Den moderna konstens sanning

1.

Vad som klassas som en dröm eller något fantastiskt av den ena behöver på intet vis uppfattas som detsamma av den andra. Drömmars innehåll, liksom det vakna tillståndets erfarenheter, må fungera som stoff för att jämföra olika personers drömmar, av vilka skäl detta än görs. Att däremot diskutera drömmens upplevelse, mening eller funktion kommer an på drömmens form, och som omedveten upplevelse som först i efterhand kan utsättas för spekulation och reflexion, för att förstås, är drömmen att likna vid ett oförmedlat konstverk. Konst är som bekant också det kanske sista område vilket ända in i våra dagar har berett vetenskaplig systematisering ett motstånd. Detta må låta trivialt, men med tanke på Freuds relativt framgångsrika försök att övervinna motståndet bör man vara tydlig med vad man menar när man talar om drömmar i någon mer anspråksfull mening.

  Även efter att ha uteslutit Freud från diskussioner om relationen mellan drömmar och konstverk kvarstår ett flertal frågetecken angående vad som kan tolkas som drömlikt; här måste rätt och slätt göras bruk av endast en personlig erfarenhet av drömmens natur – vilket ju även var hur den gode Freud delvis gick tillväga – medan objektiva aspekter av det hela måste minimeras. Det väsentliga för en kortare analys av hur en dröm gestaltas, snarare än hur den i själva verket behandlas, kommer helt an på tolkningen, åtminstone så som detta ter sig i Kafkas Das Schloss. Vad jag försöker skilja mellan här är mer explicita, självrefererande/-reflekterande narrativa ansatser att involvera en diskurs om drömmen (även om denna kan vara mer eller mindre subtil i de modernistiska romaner som här diskuteras) från en mer oförmedlad illustration av en dröm. Att det sistnämnda är relevant för Kafka handlar om en mängd faktorer kopplade till (möjliga) drömmar och särskilt då en gripbar drömmens form, så långt en sådan går att imitera litterärt.[1] Det finns givetvis ett otal exempel på forskare som pekar på det absurda hos Kafka, vilket dock har olika funktioner när man talar med olika litteraturkritiska skolor, något jag ska försöka undvika att göra här. Att den absurda aspekten går att koppla till drömmen tycks i vilket fall klart, och det är kanske just denna aspekt av drömmen som är möjlig att framställa litterärt på ett troget sätt (helt och hållet, förstås, avhängigt den personliga drömmens karaktär).

  På ett mer översiktligt plan är det drömrelaterade i Das Schloss särskilt tydligt i K:s fruktlösa strävanden; detta hör man ofta är något karaktäristiskt för mångas drömmar, att man strävar efter ett mål på olika nivåer. Det kan röra en mer långsiktig ambition i form av drömmar om en frustrerad karriär eller misslyckade försök av annan art, men det kan också handla om en mer direkt känsla av låsning – för vilken tyskans Schloss också är talande –, att inte komma ifrån en specifik plats och den medföljande känslan av att inte kunna röra sig (själv brukade jag ha en återkommande dröm om att i hukad ställning inte kunna sträcka på mig). Att själva slottet i romanen i sig fungerar som tydlig symbol för denna känsla bör vidare styrka ett drömperspektiv på romanen, för inte bara kommer K. aldrig fram till sitt mål från vilket han är utelåst (ausgeschlossen), på samma sätt som han är innelåst i byn; slottet som byggnad gör, när han vid andra anblick faktiskt kan urskilja det, honom besviken, vilket också här på fler än en nivå talar inte för ett slott utan för ett luftslott (Luftschloss). Att dagdrömmeri är synonymt med att bygga luftslott tycks här ha överförts på den omedvetna, passiva drömmen i vilken allt fungerar som luftslott, men hos Kafka gestaltas det således på ett mer långtgående vis som antyder en kritisk inställning till verkligheten.[2] Som en parentes verkar (Luft)slott och drömmars affinitet även framträda i Strindbergs Ett drömspel, med ”det växande slottet”, i vilket ju också bl.a. en rad tjänstemän får representera mänsklighetens situation.

  Som ett specifikt scenario som kan tjäna som exempel på K:s upplevelse, som en tillhörande en dröm, kan man titta på det som inträffar i början av romanen där han träder in i bondstugan i vilken något slags tvättdag äger rum. Beskrivningen av själva rummet och de figurer som ockuperar det är den av en på en gång vacker och beklämmande ”tavla”, medan händelseförloppet i episoden framstår som något om inte absurt så åtminstone underligt. För läsaren som utifrån har möjlighet att betrakta scenariot är det hela framförallt högst humoristiskt, emedan det oförståeliga K. upplever hos de karaktärer han här möter, i sin objektivitet för läsaren snarare blir löjligt; helt plötsligt och utan förklaring blir han bokstavligen utkörd ur rummet, dessutom till dessa karaktärers stora och högljudda förtjusning: ”Gubben tyckte att någonting var roligt i detta och klappade händerna. Också tvätterskan skrattade till bland barnen som plötsligt började larma som om de varit tokiga.” (25) Ska detta läsas som en dröm är det definitivt en ond sådan, men en som alltså skapar en tydlig distans till läsaren i och med Kafkas just nyktra språk och berättarteknik, vilken Richard Sheppard påpekar sker ”above K.’s head”. Den avsaknad av reflexion eller begriplighet som drömmar ofta karaktäriserar är en del av K:s upplevda värld, som i all sin absurdhet blir komisk att utifrån beskåda. K:s obehag, oförståelse och alienation blir särskilt effektfull i den interaktion eller kanske snarare bristen på denna, som uppstår när en flock bönder i tystnad stirrar på honom, något som också ekar av en för Kafka typisk paranoia. Hans båda medhjälpare är härutöver som hämtade ur någon saga som man som barn kände något slags skräckblandad förtjusning inför.

  Medan Das Schloss ger upphov till detta slags behandling av dröm, ur den aspekten där den utifrån kan beskådas i dess brist på begripliga sammanhang, så finns det åtskilliga andra sätt att istället försätta sig i drömmars mekanism och litterärt försöka återskapa dem. I The Waves kan detta skönjas hos de sex olika medvetandena, vilka egentligen kanske ska ses som ett enskilt medvetandes olika sätt att inta verkligheten. Här är sinnesintryck sannolikt en viktig faktor, i den mån man i en dröm är bunden till enbart sådana. Visserligen måste det sägas att man i en dröm är förmögen till en viss typ av reflexion – än en gång kan en dröm inte reduceras till en entydig företeelse utan varierar både för den enskilde personen och definitivt mellan olika personer – då man finner sig själv tänka i den pågående drömmen, men trots det kan man inte undfly den association som där försiggår. I det vakna tillståndet stannar association i medvetandet och låter den yttre verkligheten bestå s.a.s. i sig själv, medan man i drömmen endast har medvetandet att tillgå, vilket där i och med associationen kastar en mellan olika verkligheter. Att det är sinnesintryck det då handlar om verkar därmed motsägelsefullt med tanke på bristen på en verklighet som ger upphov till sådana, men i drömmen är dessa som om de vore sinnesintryck, d.v.s. utan ett självmedvetet reflekterande av dessa. I drömmen smälter associationer och sinnesintryck samman till ett slags helt, alltjämt skiftande mellan olika delar av det. I The Waves ställs frågan av olika medvetanden vilket jag de tillhör, eftersom de tycks flyta in i varandra, och vad gäller sinnesintrycken verkar dessa vara bundna till drömmens snabbt skiftande lagar. Ena stunden ser en karaktär någonting i det nuvarande ögonblicket, tätt följt av att en annan karaktär ser eller upplever något helt annat, också det här och nu, och så vidare. Detta är vad som ofta händer i en dröm; verkligheten skiftar ständigt, men stannar alltid i ett nu. En viktig del av uppfattningen om vem man är handlar om tid, eftersom ett jag delvis uppstår i relation till vem man har varit och vem man tror, vill, hoppas eller anteciperar att man ska bli; eftersom tid i den självmedvetna bemärkelse den framträder i det vakna tillståndet i drömmen saknas, blir där jagen ständigt skiftande, synvinklarna flyter in i varandra och de olika verkligheterna varierar. Med detta perspektiv på The Waves kan medvetandet alltså ändå ses som ett medvetande, fast i en dröm och följande dess lagar.[3] Tilläggas bör dock att romanen är mer komplex än så, och innehåller åtskilliga exempel på ett självrefererande inte narrativ men reflexioner angående jagets mekanismer, men de i presens ständigt skiftande medvetandena torde delvis kunna illustrera drömmens natur. Utöver dessa sex ”aspekter av ett medvetande” är ju romanen till sin form på ett annat sätt drömsk, vad gäller de återkommande interludierna. Woolfs arv i den romantiska poesin, kanske särskilt i form av Shelley, blir i dessa tämligen framträdande. Den romantiska poesins sätt att illustrera drömmar i form av dess mer vackra, bildkonstrelaterade innehåll är ju ett nu närmast banalt sätt att koppla samman dröm och dikt, vilket dock mest kommer an på traditionssammanhang och tidsanda. Hur Kafka möjligen såg på drömmen hade att göra med hans särskilda mörka upplevelse av världen; hur Woolf såg på den behöver ingalunda ha någon som helst koppling till den förra.

  Det dionysiska synsättet på konst som Nietzsche inledningsvis hade en passion för var intressant även för Proust. Men i anslutning till det apolliniska sägs: ”Min vän, just det är diktarns sätt / att han kan tyda drömmen rätt. / Ty mänskans sannaste natur / i drömmen anas, liksom hur /all diktkonst och poeteri / är bara sanndrömstyderi.”[4] Nietzsches citering av Hans Sachs ord gäller alltså uppfattning om konst under denna tid som den tedde sig i diktande, medan det dionysiska i musiken var omfamnad och hörnmärkt i Wagners operor, vilka dock var ett återkommande intresse för Proust.[5] För Proust är det metaestetiska – en avsevärd del av A la recherche är som en enda stor poetik – i de öppna diskurserna om litterärt skapande av enorm vikt, men dessas fokus på minnets och tidens faktorer för skapandet knyter också an till drömmen på flera sätt. Hur man i minnet svävar iväg efter ett sinnesintryck av en hagtornsbuske, en flod, ett promenadstråk eller en madeleinekaka, för att där fullkomligt upptas av andra tider och verkligheter, är ett intresse för drömmen som övergår i en imitation av den, i form av dagdröm och fantasi. Det är dock inte tal om några luftslott som i diskussionen om Kafka, då själva tänkandet och sökandet efter minnet hos Proust så ofta medföljs av tankens metaaspekt och glider över i filosofiska strävanden. Spaningen hos Proust är delvis en spaning efter lagar, minnets och tidens lagar. Dagdrömmandet hos Proust är ständigt kopplat till diktandet, där diktandet är ett om tänkande och tänkandet ett om diktande, vilka ofta tillsammans strävar efter något slags sammanförande. Deleuze beskriver det väl när han talar om Prousts verk som ett slags maskin, som ständigt utsätts för en kraft som ständigt manar, nästan tvingar, författaren till uttrycket, mycket som kommer an på associationism och de minnets lagar som alltså Proust både utsätts för och samtidigt försöker beskriva. På så sätt är det som om drömmen, i form av imitation i dagdröm, integreras och återupplivas i A la recherche; att enligt drömmens lagar kastas mellan olika verkligheter är något som här eftersöks, att på sätt och vis söka bli ett med det skrivna verket.

2.

Vad Proust gjorde, eller försökte göra, i A la recherche, är minst sagt ett kännetecken för den modernistiska romanen. Man började tvivla på rena berättelser, och ifrågasatte ständigt själva berättandets möjligheter, litteraturens möjligheter. Ett ytterst träffande exempel på ska man säga utsattheten för detta fenomen – för det är genomsyrat utifrån och inifrån, i skrivandet och utifrån i synen på det, av ambivalens – är en uppsats av Blanchot, ”From Anguish to Language”.[6] Här försöker litteraturkritikern skriva om omöjligheten att skriva utan att ständigt glida över i skrivandets problem, och hamnar helt och hållet därför själv i problemet. Helt klart är Blanchot påverkad av Proust, men det tycks som att det fanns Proust, och så fanns det efter Proust. För Proust kan inte sägas låta sig fullkomligt upplösas av skrivandets problem eller dess upplösning; det är sant att tecken på svårigheterna är tydliga även hos honom, men han ”övervinner” dem på ett helt annat sätt än senare modernistiska författare lyckades göra, som istället snarare gladeligen dukar under för det självmedvetna berättandets negativitet. Proust skrev ändå en roman, och kunde låta den i verket behandlade estetiska filosofin emellanåt vila, för att lyckas måla sammansatta romanfigurer. Han ”lyckades” alltså i någon mån, hur ”avslutat-oavslutat”, som Blanchot kallar hans verk, romanen än må vara, med att integrera självmedvetandets tidsliga problematik i berättandet med diktverkets så att säga objektiva del. För Blanchot som i egenskap av litteraturkritiker skriver om skrivande blir problemet förståeligt nog ett annat, och den pessimism och den ”ångest” han talar om, det intet som ständigt tränger sig på hos honom, var också efter Proust.

  Detta sätt att hantera berättandet kommer an inte bara på själva det skrivna språkets speglande i sig själv; detta är en stor del av fenomenet, men i försöket att berätta något uppstår också medvetenhet om själva berättandet. Ska man därför som Kafka skapa en så stark distans till sitt verk att den förefaller ironisk, eller ska man som Beckett göra narrativet så genomskinligt att det till slut blir meningslöst? Det vet jag inte. Men det tycks som att utvecklingslinjen efter Proust eskalerade mot det senare. Tiden hos Proust blev så problematisk i och med att han, som ovan diskuterades, försökte göra den till ett här och nu (i en viss mening) genom att som Poulet menar juxtapositionera minnets återskapade bilder, och på så vis skapa ett slags vägg med tavlor bredvid varandra; denna metod kan ses som att skapa ett rum utan tid, men frågan är om han lyckas med just detta. I drömmen är man nedsänkt i ett rum utan tid, och låter det förbli så, eftersom medvetandet där inte aktivt har något att säga till om. Annorlunda blir det ju i det vakna tillståndet, där man ständigt måste orientera sig enligt förflutet, nutid och framtid. Å andra sidan är A la recherche på många sätt som just en tavla, innehållande flera tavlor. Kanske kan man överväga om det inte är så att Proust faktiskt på sätt och vis löser tidens problem, genom att han ser på det hela som att Tid är Minne; tid är hjärnans förmåga att bevara bilder från sinnesintryck, vilka därmed bildar ett förflutet och i sin tur skapar antecipering. Vad gäller nuet är just denna mellanposition ofta den mest problematiska. Oavsett hur man själv vill se på saken verkar det rimligt att Proust såg det sålunda. Tid är där minne, och minne är återskapande av det förflutna, och ägnar man det hela ett sådant utrymme Proust gjorde, kanske det är möjligt att återskapa alla dessa flydda bilder. Att det sedan utgör en större komplikation att se det som att man återvinner det förflutna, när man egentligen måste rekonstruera det utifrån ett medvetande som ser saker annorlunda är det gjorde när det förflutna var nutid, verkar vara det författare som Beckett och Blanchott antyder i deras negativa utformning av texten.

  Woolfs sätt att behandla tid i The Waves kan in kontrast ses som en lyckad lösning på den tidsliga problematiken. Berättandet är i hennes verk ersatt av inre monologer, som Dorrit Cohn också menar är av varierande slag, av vilka den dramatiska monologen, bl.a. använd i Robert Brownings poesi, är ett. Eftersom dessa monologer är framförda konsekvent i nuets form, blir de associativa flödena inte plågade av tidens problem för ett berättande på samma sätt som hos Proust. Detta givetvis med undantaget att medvetandena i sig, d.v.s. det innehållsliga i The Waves, dryftar problemen med berättande och tid, men romanens egen form, samlande dessa medvetanden och deras innehåll i ett flöde som ständigt befinner sig i nutid, lyckas således behålla något slags enhetlighet. Kanske kan man påstå att tid i själva verket just i och med nuet och omedelbarheten i framställningen försvinner, om man ser nutid som den dialektiska nollpunkten i tid: tid är förflutet och framtid, i medvetandet, medan ett nu så att säga ”bara är”. Detta går att hävda i och med avsaknaden av berättande i någon mer konventionell mening, i och med att det här inte berättas någon historia. Det stämmer därutöver också med tanke på det inte finns någon tydlig negativitet, humor eller ironi i lika hög grad som hos både Kafka och Beckett, men framförallt som hos Robert Musil.

  I den första delen av Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften fungerar ironi praktiskt taget som själva formen. Ironin som konstnärlig form har utförligt förklarats hos Friedrich Schlegel och behandlades senare i Hegels estetik, där den är en del av ett slags jagets ständigt negativa determinerande. När den därefter användes i Adornos estetiska teori som ett hörnmärke för modernistiska verk framträder den med tydlighet i de exempel Adorno använder för att illustrera mekanismen, av vilka Becketts verk sätter fingret på det. Men också hos Musil är den tydlig, om än inte på ett lika snabbt skiftande sätt som hos Beckett. Hos Beckett sker narrativets självnegerande i en rasande fart, som i Molloy, medan detta slags ironi i Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften I har ett långsammare samspel med berättandet. Musil låter det framställda, idéinnehållet, byggas upp i långa utvikningar och skapar först ett sken av allvar i det framställda, bara för att avsluta det hela i en antiklimatiskt, abrupt fras som tar udden av det hela, som t.ex. ”’Dumt’, tänkte Ulrich”.[7] I Musils roman är tidens faktor inte framtonande, men ingalunda irrelevant. Den bär samma slags subtila relevans som den gör i Das Schloss, i det avseende att ingenting händer även om det verkar som att det gör det; det är som personerna i Fredrik Lindströms Vad gör alla superokända människor hela dagarna? som ständigt går runt och väntar på bättre tider. Parallellaktionen kan liknas vid både slottet hos Kafka och personen Molloy hos Beckett; det handlar om något som ska uppfyllas eller nås men som aldrig kommer till kritan, delvis p.g.a. att själva berättandet hindrar detta från att ske. Det är krasst sagt mycket snack och liten verkstad, emedan ”snacket” i många modernistiska romaner är av större vikt än händelserna, för att inte tala om målet. Liksom A la recherche är avslutat-oavslutat är också Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften det. Musils roman slutar med att Ulrich till slut börjar skriva vad som sannolikt är vad vi som läsare nyss avslutat, vilket är det precisa och mer otvetydiga fallet i Prousts verk. Detta sker även på liknande sätt i Molloy, och meningen med detta estetiska drag kan diskuteras, men i enlighet med den negativa drivkraften i romaner som dessa kanske det är rimligt att anföra Nietzsches eviga återkomst av det sanna som något högst uppgivet, som Eric Heller gör i sin diskussion om Kafka.[8] Oavsett hur det förhåller sig med att knyta samman en romans slut med dess början, är det tydligt att både detta och det faktum att man på olika sätt experimenterar med tiden hör samman med en brytning med traditionella litterära framställningar.

  Att skildra en tid som spänner över flera år, eller ens över några månader, tycks på många sätt vara svårare än att skildra loppet av en dag. Som i Ulysses, verkar det uppenbart att om det är medvetandet som är det som ska skildras så är det definitivt en fördel att begränsa vad som sker i detta till en kortare tidsperiod. Tänker man sig själv hur många sidor det krävs för att transkribera (om detta nu var möjligt, för att undvika svårigheterna med självrelaterat berättande) allt som pågår i ens medvetande under tjugofyra timmar, är Ulysses omfattning helt rimlig. Med allt vad svårigheterna innebär med att fånga medvetandet litterärt på ett autentiskt sätt, så verkar det ändå, om det är något slags realism man är ute efter, som något man kan göra med större framgång än vad som är fallet med en historisk roman. Vad gäller frågan om vad som är realistisk litteratur, kan man fråga sig hur pass realistisk socialrealism är, som Lukács länge hade en förkärlek till. I Ästhetische Theorie avfärdar Adorno socialrealismens anspråk på att framställa världen som den är, och påminner om att Lukács till slut var tvungen att erkänna Kafkas verk som realistiska. För att behålla diskussionen på ett plan relevant för formen på 1900-talsromanen, handlar det hela om att verkligheten blir framställd på ett genuinare sätt om framställningen är negativ; försöker man greppa tid och efterlikna den på ett mer positivistiskt sätt faller detta tillbaka på sig själv, medan man om man redan från start låter medvetandets verkningar i framställningen negera verket uppnår något mer ”verklighetstroget”. Tid finns endast i medvetandet, och att hypostasera den som följdriktig historia utanför en själv visar sig ofta senare vara i behov av korrigering. Att i formen skapa ett spel, medvetet, där berättandet måste säga emot sig själv, gjordes i romanform på ett exemplariskt sätt i Molloy, och det är därför föga förvånande att Becketts verk för Adorno utgör essensen av modernistisk konst.[9]

3.

De experimentella dragen i litteratur, redan i föregående uppgifter berörda, är i Becketts Molloy mer än bara drag. Becketts litteratur och dramatik är konstnärliga experiment, men inte, som tidigare nämndes, enbart för experimentets skull. Impulsen att experimentera snarare än att förlita sig på etablerade ramar vad gäller både form och innehåll har mycket att göra med det s.k. moderna tillståndet överlag. Inom diskurser för modernitet talas det ibland om en modernitetens självförståelse, sådan den tedde sig särskild på filosofins område, men i modernistisk konst tycks denna självförståelse, självmedvetenhet och självkritik också överföras på själva konstens form; detta skapar ett slags andra gradens spegelbild för den moderna människans transparens och märks tydligast i just ett slags negativ uppfattning om konst och verklighet. Det är m.a.o. lika mycket den externa verkligheten och de impulser de skapar hos den experimenterande konstnären, som den framställning som brukas för att spegla den verkligheten som här är intressant. Som jag var inne på tidigare, märks detta slags negation delvis hos Musil, i form av skenbart djupa narrativ som byggs upp endast för att sluta tvärt i ord som neutraliserar eller klipper av seriositeten i texten, vilket ger upphov till en genomgående ironi i texten som gör att man sällan vet vad som är allvar eller inte. I Dostojevskijs Anteckningar från källarhålet finns detta experimentella drag att beskåda på ett mer omedelbart sätt; dels syns detta genomgående i den inre monologen som förs, som Cohn poängterar dessutom skapar ambiguitet i fråga om huruvida det är tal eller skrift,[10] men de ständiga brytningarna i slutet av flera stycken är här också mycket explicita: ”Äsch! Det spelar ju egentligen ingen som helst roll om jag flyttar eller ej.”[11]

  Dessa brytningar i narrativet dras till sin spets i Molloy och pågår i ett långt snabbare tempo än i de båda sistnämnda romanerna. Frasen ”I don’t know” medföljer ett otal resonemang och frågor; vad som än tänks av Molloy möts ständigt av ett tvivel, en osäkerhet eller en negation; han vet inte om det som pågår omkring honom är som det verkar, han är osäker på både andras och sin egen identitet (namn undviks ofta att etableras, och får därför alternativ), han vet praktiskt taget inte om han vet något alls. Negationerna märks tydligt i formen, men som hos t.ex. Woolf flyter de även över i innehållet: ”For to know nothing is nothing, not to want to know anything likewise, but to be beyond knowing anything, to know you are beyond knowing anything, that is when peace enters in, to the soul of the incurious seeker.” (86) Texten kryllar av inten och kansken, av en ständig vägran att etablera något över huvud taget. Dessutom är karaktären Molloy präglad av en impotens som symboliseras i hans ”stiff leg”, och hans situation är en i vilken han vandrar omkring i en ”skog”, som han menar att han gärna stannar i, där hans huvudsyssla är att suga på stenar. I ett avsnitt resonerar Molloy in i absurdum om hur han ska strukturera flera ”sucking stones” i sina olika fickor (94), vilket också är utmärkande för att låta berättandet eller monologen få följa sitt eget flux under skrivande stund, som för att imitera medvetandets oupphörliga flöde. Råkar texten på ställen där något externt tycks vara i behov av beskrivning, menar berättaren att det antingen inte alls är nödvändigt, eller så skjuter han upp det narrativet snubblar över, som för att först bli klar med pågående tankegång: ”The house where Lousse lived. Must I describe it? I don’t think so. I won’t, that’s all I know, for the moment. Perhaps later on, if I get to know it.” (46) Det är här alltså allt annat än en Balzacsk realism som är i verkan, något som handlar om modernismens inställning till begreppet verklighet.

  Att det är ”metalitteratur” det är fråga om hos Beckett vore en underdrift. Utvecklingen tycks även på många sätt vara en ökning av detta slags transparens i moderna texter; med ett visst godtycke kan man skönja en tendens, från Proust, via Joyce, till Beckett, där konstverket blir mer och mer medvetet om sig självt och där snubblandet över den egna texten (faux pas) på flera sätt bejakas, ehuru bejakandet fungerar som en negativ estetik. För att ta ett steg till och peka på samtidslitteratur är intertextualiteten mellan Beckett och Paul Auster snudd på övertydlig. Likheterna mellan Molloy och The New York Trilogy är iögonfallande särskilt vad gäller greppet att använda detektivromanliknande drag för själva undersökningen av verkligheten och identiteter, med stor tonvikt på språket som absolut förmedlare av dessa; därför är språket i sig så viktigt formmässigt i denna typ av litteratur. Detta går igen i även den mer rena filosofiska tankegången särskilt hos Blanchot men också hos Derrida. ”From Anguish to Language”, och tillbaka, är beskrivande för texten i Molloy rent formmässigt, men även det cirkulära som jag tidigare var inne på är också detta en del av romanen, men så konsekvent är Beckett i sitt negerande av narrativet att inte ens här låter sig en cirkel slutas. Del två av romanen inleds i monologen, som förs av ”agenten” som ska finna Molloy (vilket han förstås inte gör), med orden ”It is midnight. The rain is beating on the windows”. (124) Slutet på denna monolog som också ”avslutar” romanen ser ut som följande: ”Then I went back into the house and wrote, It is midnight. The rain is beating on the windows.” Men den sista raden i boken lyder: “It was not midnight. It was not raining.” (241) (Min kursiv)

 Vad Beckett gör i sin litteratur och dramatik är Inget, varför han ofta sammanförs med Sartre och andra existentialister. Men kanske är det på ett annat sätt möjligt att hantera intighet i litteratur som konstverk än i litteratur som ren diskurs med tanke på att de filosofiska utredningarna om varat och intet lätt förlorar något i och med bristen på just ironi. Upplevelsen att verkligheten är en negation av en själv eller vice versa får en annan effekt som litterär framställning än som filosofisk diskurs. Praktiserandet av negativitet gentemot ett berättande jag och gentemot narrativet blir i Molloy en tydlig illustration av konsekvent ironi, en ironi som behandlas på ett annorlunda, kanske mer underliggande, sätt hos t.ex. Musil. Det är inte ”Jag” hos Beckett, det är ”icke-Jag” – det onämnbara; det är svårigheten och ambivalensen i att använda ett förstapersonsnarrativ som här demonstreras (vilket kanske också var anledningen till att Kafka senare ersatte detta med tredjepersonsnarrativet i Das Schloss). Reids jämförande studie om Proust och Beckett uppmärksammar därför med rätta de mer utstuderade formerna av litterär ironi i anslutning till dessa författare.

  Andra drag i Molloy som kan kallas experimentella är de profana. Dessa blir intressanta framförallt i anslutning till frågan om realismens olika aspekter. Det säger väl nästan sig självt att i en profan värld är dess spegelbild i profan konst realistisk? Riktigt så enkelt är det dock inte, d.v.s. att det endast kommer an på en värld historiskt utvecklad från heligt till profant. Beckett var influerad av Dante, och redan Dante var på sitt sätt realistisk. Det finns en intressant diskussion om detta i Erich Auerbachs Mimesis, där han kallar Dantes realism för figural. Fin och djuplodad som den diskussionen är, nöjer jag mig här med att påpeka att det är Dantes tämligen vågade profana inslag i den annars så fromma värld han beskriver som är viktiga i detta avseende. Min poäng är att medan de obscena dragen i Becketts Molloy (de är många och högst explicita) kanske kan tolkas som experimentella, är det snarare så att dessa utgör det realistiska. Något Freud rätteligen ägnade sig åt var åtminstone att visa på de obsceniteter som förmodligen tämligen ofta pågår i envars medvetande, och eftersom Molloy består av inre monologer torde detta vara en trogen spegel för medvetandet. Det experimentella i Becketts verk är i denna kontext alltså snarare lika pedantiskt i att efterlikna vad som försiggår i ett medvetande som Balzacs försök att avbilda ett smutsigt parisiskt pensionat. Den modernistiska konsten handlar därmed inte om att ”fly verkligheten för konsten”, utan kanske snarare att fly konsten för verkligheten, och därigenom skapa en verklighetstrogen konst.

Eftersom Adorno har formulerat sig på ett så träffande sätt angående Becketts litteratur och dess negativa prägel, och angående modern estetik överlag, kan det vara belysande att citera ett par av dessa formuleringar. I Ästhetische Theorie skriver Adorno om Slutspel: ”Endgame is neither a play about the atom bomb nor is it contentless; the determinate negation of its content [Inhalt] becomes its formal principle and the negation of content altogether.”[12] Just att innehållet ständigt ger en impuls till att i formen motsäga det gäller i lika hög grad för Molloy, och är samtidigt ett bra exempel på hur den omdiskuterade frågan angående form och innehåll här fungerar som både konst och teori på samma gång i verkets transparens. Diskussionen om modernistiska 1900-talsromaner har i denna text genomgående handlat om verkens negativitet och hur denna fungerar i framställningen, om än i gradskillnader. Vill man se detta som något slags princip sätter följande resonemang huvudet på spiken: ”Art is not a replica any more than it is knowledge of an object […] On the contrary, art reaches toward reality, only to recoil at the actual touch of it.”[13]

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[1] Med hänsyn till det andra nämnda sättet att involvera drömmar i en text, tycks det att gestalta en dröm, d.v.s. att försätta sig i drömmen och låta dess verkningar överföras i narrativets mekanik, som något ytterst svårt. Vad som är intressant med Kafka, något ofta poängterat av t.ex. Adorno, är den nyktra distans till texten som berättaren intar, vilket också nämns av Sheppard i hans studie om Der Schloss som något som skapar effekten av ett slags total frånvaro av berättaren. Detta står i viss konstrast till flera av de andra romanerna i kursen, vilka begagnar de karaktäristiska metaestetiska eller självrelaterade narrativen. Ett för mig tydligt kännetecken hos en dröm är ju det faktum att de är omedvetna och saknar all form av självreflexivt förstånd, omdöme, struktur etc., vilket innebär en svåröverkomlig paradox när det gäller att följa detta, kalla det bergsonska, flödet litterärt; om inte annat är detta som mest uppenbart i det skrivna språkets hinder för något slags genuint flöde av upplevelse så som de ter sig i drömmar. Kanske är det detta som försiggår i Ulysses, där Joyce gladeligen s.a.s. stannar vid språket. 

[2] I Ästhetische Theorie kan Adornos tankar om Kafka sammankopplas med drömmen på så vis att det i ett kapitalistiskt samhälle för dem med kritiska ögon sker ett slags inverterad dialektik, där Kafkas insekter och slott eller andra mer eller mindre fantastiska skildringar inte är blott en metafor eller allegori för verkligheten, utan i själva verket blir verkligheten. Eftersom verkligheten med denna syn på den redan är absurd eller falsk, en dröm, är Kafkas verk snarare ett slags realism, eller dubbelironi, om man så vill. Samhället, så som det i enlighet med detta skulle ha sett ut i Kafkas och Adornos ögon, var (är) på det vis det skildras i Der Schloss, med allt vad byråkrati och maktapparater innebär; med samma resonemang är insekten i Der Vervandlung mer än bara en ”poetisk” bild för antisemitism eller eventuellt för hur människan överlag i särskilda fall upplever sig själv. Realism är ett tämligen ”relativt” begrepp.

[3] Detta var också Musil intresserad av. Hos honom förekommer tankegången att ett jag inte är något fast, utan fungerar som något slags helt bestående av olika funktioner, ständigt flytande. Det är mycket p.g.a. detta som det i Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften finns en underliggande kritik av att fastställa personligheter. Moosbrugger kan läsas som en skildring av ett slags ”drömsk” figur.

[4] Friedrich Nietzsche, Tragedins födelse, s. 22 f.

[5] En diskussion om Nietzsches begreppspar blir i uppgiften överflödig, men det är värt att här nämna att Nietzsche också nämner att de båda på ett dialektiskt vis ”periodiskt försonas”. Med tanke på den kritik Nietzsche själv också senare riktade mot sin egen text, är det rimligt att det Nietzsche menar är rus och dröm på intet sätt är något hållbart, eftersom drömmar definitivt bär drag av rus. Därför är det också lätt att se att modernismen inte såg på dröm och konst på detta fixa vis; hos Proust kan de väl sägas på många sätt flyta samman.

[6] Maurice Blanchot, Faux Pas, s. 1-16.

[7] Robert Musil, Mannen utan egenskaper, s. 131.

[8] Det här är ändå inte helt självklart. T.ex. hade Kafka av mycket att döma mer gemensamt med Kierkegaard än med Nietzsche, vars temperament verkar avlägset från Kafkas typ av ”nykterhet”. Å andra sidan kanske idén är lättare att sammanföra med Becketts verk. Det verkar svårt att avgöra, men en evig återkomst av det samma kan uppfattas lika mycket som något positivt som något meningslöst, kanske särskilt beroende på vilken tid man talar om. Under första hälften av 1900-talet var det när allt kommer omkring säkert en uppfattning kopplad till det sistnämnda.

[9] Det är dock Becketts dramatik som genomgående används av Adorno för att illustrera hur hans teori i denna är satt i full verkan. Blotta titlarna I väntan på Godot, Spel och Slutspel säger mycket om det ovan diskuterade.

[10] Tvetydigheterna i denna text är avsiktliga vad gäller det mesta, och spelar ständigt med en läsare som inte ens denna för berättaren existerar, utan som mest är postulerad för att ”berättelsen” överhuvudtaget ska kunna vara för någon. Monolog, tanke, berättelse och skrift har hos Dostojevskij dessutom ett mycket tydlig självrelaterande och negerande inslag, och driver frågan om innehållets allvar långt.

[11] Dostojevskij, Anteckningar från källarhålet, s. 12. Jmf Ulrichs: ”Det spelar inte den ringaste roll i denna härva av krafter!” (Mannen utan egenskaper, s. 14.)

[12] Adorno, Aesthetic Theory, s. 325.

[13] Ibid., s. 366.

In Perfect Harmony - A dialectical study of Robert Browning’s “Abt Vogler”

Introduction

Now I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah[1]

A view of the world that is based on opposites could be one that has existed a very long time in human thought. The most common and clear example of this would probably be the notion of good and evil or right and wrong, which seems to have been the basics for much theology and ethics during human history. The largest religion in the world, Christianity, has most certainly had great impact on subsequent intellectual concerns and philosophy that deal with dividing the world into different opposites.[2] Of course, before Christianity there have been numerous other ways of reflecting on the world we live in, all of which have not necessarily any apparent indications of this view. One need only to look at the way the ancient Greeks saw the world, to see that there are differences between their polytheistic views and the Christian belief in God, the devil, angels and demons. On the other hand, it should be fairly well-known in what degree the ancient Greeks have influenced western philosophy, which is to say that there is no unambiguous and clear cut way of pointing to a world seen as based on opposites. Rather, the case is probably that a dialectical view of the world to a certain degree is something that is universal in human thought, and something that is, if not impossible, then perhaps futile to seek an origin for.

     Another fact that makes the nature of dialectics worth considering as an all including philosophy of sorts is the number of different ways we speak about it. The list of terms denoting the concept can be made long; dualism, dichotomy, binary oppositions, polarity, contradiction, ambiguity, antagonism and paradox, are all ways of describing the relation between opposites, either functioning as opposing or interacting with each other.

One of the main issues in this essay is to explore how dialectics can make balance and unity possible. For there is a difference between dialectic relations and the former terms describing opposites; where, for example, paradox often denotes an impossibility for opposites to interact, a dialectical view of seemingly contradictory issues implies a possible unity between them.

     The concept of dialectics, then, is something that can be made more or less visible in much western philosophy and theory, but it was not until the nineteenth century that it was made more explicit and elaborated on, in the philosophy of Hegel. [3] In Hegel’s theories, the interaction between opposites works systematically in a triad, referred to as thesis-antithesis-synthesis,[4] which is to say that a whole is made up of its unifying opposites. This philosophical system, then, can be made applicable to numerous different fields where contradictions seem fruitful to explore, which sometimes make meanings deeper and more complex.

     One of the most interesting fields where this method can be applied is that of literary theory, and, perhaps, poetry especially. Studies with this kind of approach are nowadays probably fairly common, partly due to an influential school of criticism known as New Criticism.[5] While their focus is on poetry and internal close reading of it, another school that is sometimes perceived as an opponent to them nonetheless also works dialectically, namely Marxism.[6] The philosophy of structuralism in its various forms and its various objects of study is also more or less concerned with meanings in the world, created through different parts marking entities or wholes. However, the dialectical method usually ascribed to Hegel, called Hegelian dialectics, is the one that will be used in this essay.

     A poem that is most compatible with a method like this, a poem that even indicates the actual use of the method itself, is Victorian poet Robert Browning’s “Abt Vogler”, which is part of his collection of dramatic monologues published in 1864, called Dramatis Personae.[7] Although for my own part I find the indications of the poem’s dealings with dialectics well worth a study, the research on “Abt Vogler” seems oddly neglected in favour of his other poems. Furthermore, a majority of the studies on Browning’s poetry appears to have a clear focus on his use of dramatic monologue, which is understandable enough, seeing Browning is often regarded as the leading figure of this genre. The interests in these studies, though, does not lie so much in the poems’ dialectical structures, but rather in the implications of using historical persons as speakers in a poem, in order for the poet to distance himself from subjectivity in the search for objective representations.[8]

     One of these is a noticeable study on Browning’s dramatic monologues, taking a similar interest in his use of dialectics as this essay. It is the work of Browning scholar W. David Shaw, aptly titled The Dialectical Temper – The Rhetorical Art of Robert Browning.[9] In the dawning of the idea to investigate these issues in “Abt Vogler”, I was unaware of the extensive study by Shaw, which really is quite exhaustive on the matter. However, this need not undermine my own study, since the aim of Shaw’s book is to explore Browning’s path from subjective poet to an objective one, which his successively improving skills of dialectical thought are argued to have been the means of.[10] Furthermore, the interest in “Abt Vogler” is here, too, comparably lesser than in the numerous other poems. Thus, Shaw’s research should, on the contrary, be seen as an important verifier for this kind of analysis, which partly intends to show that the poem is quite a hallmark for what Shaw saw as pervasive for Browning’s poetry overall, his dialectical temper.

     The fundamental theoretical assumption of this essay, then, is that Browning’s poem contains important indications of a certain kind of dialectics, one that appears to have the ambition to create balance between opposites in a Hegelian manner. In this aspect, the fact that the poem uses music as its main theme is significant because the nature of music could suggest just these kinds of interactions, something this essay aims to clarify.

     These are the main reasons for using the poem as an expression for the philosophical idea of trying to bring opposites together into a unity. Regarding possible textual influences, these will not to any larger extent be relevant to the study, since its aim is not to show where Browning got his ideas from. It would, however, by all means, be interesting to investigate such a connection, since there are grounds for assuming that Browning, who in some degree involved philosophical perspectives in his poetry, could have been influenced by Hegel. Both the specific dates of the two texts, and the major work of W. David Shaw taking the dialectical approach to his poetry, would perhaps suffice to motivate such a study.[11]

     Even so, this essay will rather concentrate on disclosing a possible meaning of “Abt Vogler” using the Hegelian dialectics, which indeed involves enough issues to be dealt with. For there is no easy way of translating the poem into harmonious dialectics; the poem itself suggests doubt and ambiguity on this matter, and Hegel’s own system is, as indeed most philosophies, not comfortably acceptable. Indeed, the work to be used in this essay, Hegel’s The Phenomenology of Spirit, has been considered quite a difficult text.[12] Consequently, this study will direct questions to the texts asking whether it is possible to find solutions of the kind the poem implies.

     A major aim in this essay is to show that the poem “Abt Vogler” could suggest that the whole, unity and harmony always is momentary, which is something that makes the speaker of the poem see the futility about it all. Alongside this important issue, which is dealt with in order to show how the poem handles the dialectic thought, the poem’s use of the musical theme will be explained in terms of its function as a sort of analogue to this same thought. These issues will be treated with the purpose of unveiling a possible meaning of the poem as a whole.

Analysis

When two gases previously mentioned are mixed in the presence of a filament of platinum, they form sulphurous acid. This combination takes place only if the platinum is present; nevertheless the newly formed acid contains no trace of platinum, and the platinum itself is apparently unaffected; has remained inert, neutral, and unchanged.[13]

Eliot’s analogy of a catalyst to poetry suggests that a dialectical system can be found in very diverse areas, and in the analysis, the analogy to music will be shown to be equally coherent.

     The analysis of Browning’s “Abt Vogler” will be made in two stages, starting with an interpreting investigation of each stanza and their respective general content and meaning.

In that way, a perception of the poem’s themes may help to understand the underlying dialectics working through it. The next step is intended to disclose the dialectics of the poem, using the available material by Hegel and Shaw, together with some other resources that might make this feature more comprehensible. This stage’s initial steps will be made using a method at least similar to close reading, in that stanza-by-stanza chronologically will be scrutinized in terms of poetic features, rhetorical techniques and imagery, and their dialectical properties respectively.

     As a final stage of the analysis, a subsequent discussion will treat certain issues that may require more attention. This second stage will also function as a wider interpretation of the poem in its entirety, and is intended to show the significance of its use of dialectics.  

1.

Interpreting “Abt Vogler”

Abt Vogler was a German organist, whose actual name was George Joseph Vogler (1749-1814).[14] The “Abt”, or “Abbé”, means that the musician had taken holy orders, hence the speaker's ability to combine the subject of music with that of religion, of which the importance for the analysis will be shown. In his days, Vogler was compared to Beethoven for his gift of extemporizing, and in the poem, Vogler does exactly this, which triggers his religious and philosophical contemplations.

   The first stanza introduces and anticipates the speaker's thought on musical composition, and more importantly an improvising one, as analogous and in one way or another bound to occurrences and laws with religious overtones. The speaker opens the monologue by comparing music to architecture, and sees the structure as something “brave”, probably because of the extemporizing, making the composition an unpredictable and uncertain one. He then views his music as something divine, using a biblical theme as a simile, where King Solomon summons angels and demons to build him a palace. What is important about this simile is the way the speaker perceives his touching a key on the organ as something as powerful as Solomon's power over all living things,[15] a divine power enabling him by uttering the name of God to bring life on earth instantly into sight.

     The comparison to architecture is in the second stanza addressing one of the main issues of the poem, that of music's inability to be immortalized: “Would it might tarry like his, the beautiful building of mine” (II. 9). (From another point of view, music might have the upper hand over visual and literary art, which will be discussed later on.) In the next line, the speaker sees the making of a chord as “keys in a crowd pressed and importuned to raise!” (II. 10), in which “raise” suggests music to raise his “building” up, since the compared architecture is divine, to heaven. The elaboration on the nature of tones and chords then continues with Vogler seeing each key with religious qualities and connotations, in which the one plunging down to hell marks the bass tone of the chord, as well as the metaphorical foundation of a building: “Burrow awhile and build, broad on the roots of things, /Then up again swim into sight, having based me my palace well, /Founded it, fearless of flame, flat on the nether springs.” (II. 14–16.) Here the building of a chord is still fancied as something immortal, hence the imagery of architecture. Along with that, the speaker intensifies the religious qualities of the chord, seeing the bass tone, or the minor key as a part defying the flames of hell.

     In the third stanza, Vogler sees the unfolding piece of music as a palace whose walls are of gold, but “as transparent as glass” (III. 19.) The walls of gold could have multiple meanings, of which one might be that a chord or a musical piece, of the kind being extemporized by Vogler, is so intense and beautiful that it is compared to gold. However, the walls of gold being as transparent as glass is an obvious paradox, which is probably used to illustrate music’s dialectical properties; that behind this beautiful whole there is the working of each part that constitutes it.

     As the improvised composition reaches its peak of beauty, as a sort of crescendo – or, which is still a possible parallel through the poem, the system of the chord, which here ought to mark the high tone of it, thus completing it – the speaker feels “the pride of [his] soul […] in sight.” (III. 24.) At this moment, the height of the emotions created from the music makes the musician pause, as it seems, to philosophize about the truth or essence of things.

     In the following two stanzas, this single moment that occurs from the music fills Vogler with such overwhelming thoughts that the world seems to stand still. Time stops, distance vanishes, or they rather cease to exist; in this moment, both the earthly laws and those of the universe lose their powers. This, the speaker sees as the one time all things can unite and become one: “the emulous heaven yearned down, made effort to reach the earth, / As the earth had done her best, in my passion, to scale the sky” (IV. 27–28.) While he started playing on his organ, the speaker imagined his tones being like all creatures on earth, living as well as those condemned, brought into sight, and in the divine moment of perfection, he sees all things as brought to one: “Or else the wonderful Dead who have passed through the body and gone, / But were back once more to breathe in an old world worth their new” (V. 37–38.) The “wonderful Dead” might suggest that being dead saves one from a world incapable of unity or balance, but in this perfected, united world, they can now return to the living. For there is in this world no past, nor any future; the origins of all beings and beings yet to exist are all in this moment brought together into a timeless kind of existence.[16]

     In this perfect moment, Vogler considers the fact that it is music that has made it possible, and distinguishes music from the other forms of art which he believes lack this ability. If he were to paint this revelation, it would be a mere picture to look at and not something to be experienced. It is also worth noting the formulation he uses here, “had I painted the whole” (VI. 43.), which could be yet another indication of the dialectic notion; this “whole” needs to consist of, as it were, all things brought together for its shape. This, surely, is a valuation of the arts, either in the words of a musician or in the words of Browning himself. Even though biographical aspects are more or less irrelevant for the analysis, it might be interesting to consider a slight shift of voice in this stanza. Browning takes in “Abt Vogler” a step forward as a speaker himself in a dramatic monologue, as opposed to many other of these, which he through historic characters used to obtain objectivity.[17] Thus, one might infer from this a valuation of Browning’s that music would be the one true form of art capable of conveying this miraculous feeling. Moreover, since the poem’s pervading idea of music’s potential is conveyed through poetry, whether or not Browning shares Vogler’s point of view, an ironic feature of the poem can be noted in that it can only depict this miracle, but neither experience it nor create it: “Had I written the same, made verse–still, effect proceeds from cause, / Ye know why the forms are fair, ye hear how the tale is told; / It is all triumphant art, but art in obedience to laws” (VI. 45–7.) This could suggest that Vogler sees the arts of painting and poetry not having the extemporizing quality music has, hence his claim that they are arts ruled by laws.

     One needs to look at these lines more carefully, though, since it would not make a lot of sense that one can improvise musical compositions, but not paintings or poems. A painting can more than well be something improvised, which is clear when considering the process of making modernist art. The same surely goes for poetry written after the nineteenth century, one need only throw a quick glance at modernist poets such as T.S. Eliot to see that laws did not pervade his style. But the speaker, living the greater part of his life in the eighteenth century where the arts seldom bore experimental signs, would on the other hand, of course not know this fact. At the time of writing the poem, even Browning would not have been very familiar with art of this kind, which calls for another reading of the passage.

     Inferring that art and poetry in Vogler’s time followed certain rules, that perhaps came with the influence of the enlightenment period, these arts may have been viewed by him as fixed, conventional forms, hence the “obedience to laws”. Although music certainly, as in all major eras, also was shaped according to the fashion of the time, according to Vogler it still has the property of creating itself, so to speak, without interference of any rules. This, however, would only be the case of the act of extemporizing, since; again, music indeed is based on rules. 

     However, the line “in obedience to laws” would still suggest something more, considering the second half of the poem. So far, the analysis should have made clear that the speaker glorifies music as an art having divine qualities, something that laws in the wider sense of the word does not seem to fully control. However, after these wondrous implications of music, Vogler brings into the discussion the ineffable name, now uttered, and somehow reminds himself of the futility of reaching a finishing whole, this unification of all things.

     The second half of the poem indeed indicates a break in the speaker’s tone, as stanza VII starts with the words “But here is the finger of God” (VII. 49.) It appears as though Vogler now realizes that even though music may fill a passionate, faithful soul with some kind of Prometheus like notions, there is behind it still God who created it all: “Existent behind all laws, that made them and, lo, they are!” (VII. 50.) Most importantly, the poem’s depiction of a short moment of epiphany, here turns to the reflections of such a moment being lost, although the speaker ends stanza VII by summing up the wonderful chord, whose feeling still lingers on: “That out of three sounds he frame (man), not a fourth sound, but a star.” (VII. 52.) Hence, Vogler ends his reflections of the divine moment by comparing the complex whole of a musical chord to the creation of a star, but realizes that his medium too, in the end, is subjected to God’s laws.

     In stanza VIII, Vogler in a tone of disappointment now accepts the moment being gone, and finally sees the problem of the musical medium, as opposed to those of art and poetry, as being reliant on short moments of emotions emerging as quickly as they disappear. In the time of the monologue, Vogler of course did not have the possibility to record his music, which by comparison the two other forms of art have always had.[18] This puts the poem in an interesting light, reading it as a twentieth century reader for whom music is something that indeed can be immortalized. Moreover, since this must have distinguished music from the other, recordable arts, the divine parables and the powerful emotions Vogler is describing in the poem could give a reader a sense of a more rational understanding of it. However, since this is not something either poetry in general would gain much from or something this essay will advocate, it will be left as a mere indication of the cause of powerful emotions towards music. (Furthermore, this does not undermine the feelings music stirs in some of us even in today’s world of mass produced and over-accessible products of music, but can, ironically, indeed be of as divine quality to us as it was to Vogler, perhaps because of the secular world we live in.)

     In the last lines of stanza VIII, the speaker acknowledges the powerful moment never to come again, in which he expresses his troubles of letting go, of this as well as of his “same self, same love, same God” (VIII. 64.) Vogler, “who must be saved” from this state, then turns his questioning of the state of the world to God, realizing that in the end only there can the answer be found. The speaker somehow implies that the only way of being saved from his state is by change, which he of course fears since it will distance him further from the perfect state, from the whole. However, since God is in the speaker’s eyes “ever the same”, changes made by him will not really be changes at all, and in this stanza, IX, his “brave” faith in music is retransferred to his faith in God.

     The problem of good and evil, which the poem from this analysis’ perspective is trying to solve dialectically, is an issue that Vogler considers now that the magical moment of music is gone. There is a sign of doubt in the speaker’s voice when realizing the divine signs of unity are only temporarily visible through music, but it lasts only a short while, since he can find comfort in his being a musician. Hence, Vogler should have no doubts about God or the good, having witnessed it through his organ, which might be viewed as a kind instrument for this, working only through the musician. The suggested value put in music may also be clearer in the end of the poem.

     Thus, Vogler convinces himself of God’s omnipotence to make good in the world, although still in a melancholy tone because of the lost moment. As the musician who has taken Holy orders, Vogler might be viewed as an individual who is struggling with his faith, since his practice of music seems to bring him more peace than his somewhat faltering religious beliefs. Nonetheless, a tone of optimism pervades stanzas IX–XI before the important last one, in that Vogler spurs his beliefs through music, saying, “The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound” (IX. 70.) In the following two stanzas, this attitude is increased, as Vogler regards human action as “music sent up to God by the lover and the bard” (X. 79.) When considering the meaning of stanzas IX and X, it seems possible that the speaker leaves earthly qualities behind, since they are there in obedience to laws, but which musicians and poets can make divine through music.

     In stanza XI, this might be clear enough, as Vogler makes use of a dialectical thought in which it seems that the evil has temporal, earthly properties, and its counterpart, the divine good, lies within music. Before the last stanza, he then comforts himself in knowing the truth, this secret truth about it all, as it seems, that only musicians have been granted: “But God has a few of us whom he whispers in the ear; / The rest may reason and welcome: ‘t is we musicians know.”

     The poem ends with a stanza that seems to indicate a kind of reconciliation for Vogler. After his wuthering experience and his subsequent ease of mind, he drops from the high major chords of the revelation to the minor ones on earth. This last metaphorical retreat back to common life, so to speak, is foremost interesting from the dialectical point of view, which the next step of the analysis will treat. In a wider interpretation of the musician/theologian’s ending contemplations, his settling for the “C Major of this life”, plausibly means that his great thoughts weigh too heavy on him, thus his need for a neutral, quiet life.

Hegelian dialectics and “Abt Vogler”

“Abt Vogler” indeed has a lot to say about dialectics; in fact, it almost seems as though the poem sums up the concept and its problems in twelve stanzas, using music as a symbol of the philosophy. Of course, how consistently Hegelian or other forms of dialectics can be applied to or drawn from the poem is a question of interpretation. This analysis, though, will show how such an interpretation can allow the poem to be a striking example of the dialectical approach Browning has been said to have in much of the rhetoric of his dramatic monologues.

     As suggested earlier, the first stanza has importance because of its similes, but here even single phrases indicate the dialectical idea. In comparing his music to architecture, Vogler emphasizes music as something to be seen as an entity, a whole with building parts: “Would that the structure brave, the manifold music I build” (I. 1.) His music is a manifold structure, which he as a musician with obvious theoretical knowledge can view as both a whole and as a composition of separated parts working together to create that whole. To realize the relevance of Hegelian dialectics to the poem, this first sign of it would call for an explanation from the originator of it. In The Phenomenology of Spirit, Hegel applies his system of thought to a variety of fields of which most concern psychology and religion, but it can easily be used on subject matters remote from those; one might say that it is really applicable to anything. These are Hegel’s thoughts on the dialectic nature of a salt container:

This salt is a simple Here and at the same time manifold: it is white, and also pungent, also cubical in shape, also of a specific weight, and so on. All these many properties exist in a simple Here, where they interpenetrate each other. None of these has a different Here from the others; each is everywhere in the same Here where the others are. And at the same time, without being divided by different Heres, they do not affect each other in their interpenetration; its being white does not effect or alter the cubical shape it has, and neither affects its tart taste, and so on: on the contrary, since each is simple relation to self, it leaves the others alone and is related to these merely by being also along with them, a relation of mere indifference. This “Also” is thus the pure universal itself, the “medium”, the “Thinghood” keeping them together.[19] 

Finding a comprehensible section in The Phenomenology of Spirit that would help to cast light on the present matter is not easy. Hegel’s way of laying down his system on 366 pages can be perceived as quite lengthy and abstract, not to say the least repetitive, but opinions about Hegel’s pedagogical qualities aside, the above quote about the nature of a container of salt will here function as analogous to the nature of music. Even though Hegel does not make use of any consistent term regarding the “whole”, what he means by “Here” carries the same meaning. In stanza II, the speaker says about the keys of his organ: “Ah, one and all, how they helped, would dispart now and now combine” (II. 11), that is, as Hegel describes the constituting properties of the salt container, so too are the keys at work in forming a chord.

     When Vogler starts playing, he is suddenly brought into a, one might say, state of holy trance, in which he compares himself to King Solomon who summons all of earth’s creatures to build him a palace. In this building of the palace, all these “adverse” beings come together to fulfil the will of the King, but the will is really the will of God: “Should rush into sight at once as he named the ineffable Name”. Since Solomon is said to have had the power to do these miracles in the name of God, this is what would bring all the antagonistic beings together seeing that He symbolizes love and is the ultimate whole. Thus, the “Armies of angels that soar” and the “legions of demons that lurk”, as well as “Man, brute, reptile, fly” are able for a moment to come together.

     The simile of the building of a palace continues in stanza II and III, as Vogler continues his divine extemporizing, and his imagination creates pictures like “And one would bury his brow with a blind plunge down to hell […] /having based me my palace well, / Founded it, fearless of flame, flat on the nether springs.” (II. 13–16.) Following the dialectical interpretation, the speaker views what would most likely be the bass key of a chord, but equally plausible the minor chords of his whole piece. In the following stanza, the higher keys of the chord then marks the completion of it or, again, the chords in major is bringing the piece to a complete whole: “Raising my rampired walls of gold as transparent as glass, eager to do and die, yield each his place to the rest: / For higher still and higher […] / Up, the pinnacled glory reached, and the pride of my soul was in sight.” (III. 19–24.) The transparent gold walls could suggest Vogler’s chords, being beautiful sounds yet containing several parts that are willing “to do and die” and  function as part in the whole. This part is very much in coherence with what Hegel says:

If the many determinate properties were utterly indifferent to each other, and were entirely related to themselves alone, they would not be determinate; for they are so, merely in so far as they are distinguished and related to others and their opposites. In view of thus [sic] opposition, however, they cannot exist together in the bare and simple unity of their “medium”, which unity is just as essential to them as negation. The process of distinguishing them, so far as it does not leave them indifferent, but effectually excludes, negates one from another, thus falls outside this simple “medium”. And this, consequently, is not merely an “also”, an unity indifferent to what is in it, but a “one” as well, an excluding repelling unity.[20]

What Hegel is saying, is partly, as in the first quote, that a “Here” or a “Thing”, an entity, consists of a number of properties, of “alsos”, that do not affect each other but that do make up the thing. He then says that the unity, which is the nature of the thing, can have properties in opposition to each other, but that this really is what makes the thing a unity, a “one”.

    This is somewhat difficult to grasp, but in connection to lines from the poem concerned, it would make sense in that both a chord played on an organ as well as a multitude of them in a composition of music function in either of these manners, “eager to do and die, yield each his place to the rest”. The keys of a chord do not per se affect each other, since the combining of e.g. the keys A, E and C# make up the chord A Major as “one” sound, but neither of the keys make the other sound different. Hence, a musical chord would be coherent with the first description of “thinghood”, whereas one might use the other quote to explain a whole piece of music, where minor and major chords as opposites repel each other, played simultaneously, but forming “one” complete whole when viewed as a piece of music. The latter matter, then, is also applicable to the adverse beings, earthly and divine, coming together in the “ineffable Name”, which may be interpreted as the perfection that makes the whole possible and which is here by Vogler made an analogue to his temporary perfection of a music piece.  

     Thus, Hegel has two initial and different ways of seeing the nature of the whole, but he concludes the system by adding a third, unifying way of seeing it; so, even the structure of his argument could be said to mirror the system itself, making dialectics so consistent that he explains it meta-dialectically. Having considered the two matters side by side, he concludes:

The sensuous universality, the immediate unity of positive being and negative exclusion, is only then a property, when oneness and pure universality are evolved from it and distinguished from one another, and when that sensuous universality combines these with one another. Only after this relation of the unity to those pure essential moments is effected, is the “Thing” complete.[21]

It would appear, then, that the parts and the wholes come in degrees, and that parts can be wholes in themselves and vice versa. Even so, a “thing” according to Hegel has a possibility to be fully complete “Only after this relation of the unity to those pure essential moments is effected, is the “Thing” complete” (my italics). With slight risk of making the interpretation and coherence between the texts somewhat complacent, it is, however, hard to ignore the fact that Hegel sees the completion of a thing possible only after these moments, which would make the importance of the short moment of revelation Vogler is having more obvious and clear. This will conclude the help of Hegel’s dialectics for the analysis, having extracted from his work what should be the core of his thought in accordance with present issues.

2.

Religion and art

To return, then, to the speaker’s thoughts in the moment which is now at its climax, he imagines “the emulous heaven yearned down, made effort to reach the earth, / As the earth had done her best, in my passion, to scale the sky” (IV. 27–28.) The moment has now reached its height, where even heaven and earth, timely and divine can unite, and this seems possible due to the feeling of time having stopped. “Meteor-moons, balls of blaze: and they did not pale nor pine, / For earth had attained to heaven, there was no more near nor far.” (IV. 31–32.) As noted earlier, this is a part of the poem, continuing in stanza V, which marks the peak of the revelation because of this breaking down of all laws, save but the divine ones. Time not only stops, but there is no longer even the perception of time; “Presences plain in the place; or, fresh from the Protoplast” (V. 34.) Past, present and future have become one, and the celestial bodies stop their movements.

     As W. David Shaw remarks about these stanzas, Vogler’s images are of a pure sacramental kind, and the celestial bodies work as metaphors for the human soul; in which the loss of the past or the yearning for the future is no longer possible, for there is only now and “here”.[22] Another indication of time and distance ceasing to exist is, as noted before, the line about the “wonderful Dead” coming back to life, which is to say that all that has ever been, including birth and death, and all that will ever come to pass are brought together in this single moment. Vogler explicitly also utters this in the words “What never had been, was now; what was, as it shall be anon; / And what is, – shall I say, matched both? for I was made perfect too.” (V. 39–40.)  

     An issue that calls for attention at this point of the analysis is one Shaw’s book is concerned with, one that directs his way of viewing Browning’s poetry overall. Shaw sees Browning’s work as successively turning from subjective work, which he places in a first stage called “Rhetoric at the aesthetic stage”; over to an incomplete interaction between subjective and objective poetry in “Rhetoric at the ethical stage”; finally to move towards the completing stage of the process that he calls “Rhetoric at the religious stage”. With this method, Shaw, like Hegel, does an analysis in three steps that in itself works dialectically, and his aim is to show how Browning in his last stage of development reaches a full religious awareness. Viewing Browning aside from his dialectical qualities as an ultimately “imaginative religious thinker”, Shaw states that “the religious monologues present the greatest challenge to Browning’s dialectical art of forcing his personae and the reader from the lower aesthetic and ethical stages onto a level of spiritual awareness that commands their own assent.”[23] As this is the goal for the religious poet, so is it the goal for Vogler to reach Heaven, the end of a “dialectical pilgrimage” as Shaw calls it.[24] The point in this is that if man reaches the goal of his dialectical journey, which is what Vogler feels he is about to do, then the journey would be over, “When eternity confirms the conception of an hour.” (X. 76.)

     Whereas the point for Shaw in this is that “Abt Vogler” is a poem that places itself at the bridge to the religious state, but does not fulfil his criteria as the speaker still dwells too much in both the aesthetic and ethical reigns, the importance for present analysis is that of “the moment”. Yet, Shaw’s argument is relevant to the dialectical pervasiveness in “Abt Vogler” as a poem on its own, since whether or not this experienced moment can in fact be extended to eternity, either as poetic depiction or in reality, it is not possible for Vogler. Shaw’s main reason for Vogler’s subsequent loss of the moment is the musical analogy,[25] which in the poem Vogler uses as the means for attaining the whole, the unity, Heaven on earth. I will leave Shaw’s reasoning about this here, partly since his approach is a wider one and partly since there is more to say about the importance of the moment in relation to music as this analysis moves towards the end of the poem.

     Still mesmerized by his revelation, the speaker pauses in stanza VI to contemplate about what exactly it is about music that has this effect, as opposed to art and poetry. As already discussed, it is clear that Vogler distinguishes music from the other forms of art because of the extemporizing quality of it, the “process so wonder-worth”, but here he seems to contradict himself, or rather there would seem to be a feeling of ambivalence towards the arts. In the opening lines of the poem, we noticed that Vogler compares music to architecture, which needs some attention, since buildings, like paintings and poetry, are more or less “immortalized” when finished. Thus, it would not at first seem consistent with his artistic preferences, were it not for the certain value put in architecture in this context.

     In Tennyson’s poem “Gareth and Lynette”, there are indications of music and architecture having been viewed as sharing mythical qualities, “For an ye heard a music, like enow / They are building still, seeing the city is built / To music, therefore never built at all, / And therefore built forever.”[26] And in Selections from the Poems and Plays of Robert Browning, the editor in the commentary of “Abt Vogler” emphasizes this same mythical union:

There are also more ancient accounts of this union of music and architecture. Amphion, King of Thebes, played on his lyre till the stones moved of their own accord into the wall he was building. When King Laomedan built the walls of Troy, Apollo’s lyre did similar service to that of Amphion in Thebes.[27]

Thus, it would seem likely that this is what Vogler has in mind when connecting the art and craft, and he still views painting and poetry as “art in obedience to laws”, which he, at this point, does not feel music is.

     However, the fact remains, as Vogler himself is aware of, that he is not building a divine palace, but is in the act of playing a breathtaking piece of music, that nonetheless gives him a sense of divinity as the composition appears to arise from beyond humanity and laws. In stanza VIII, the poem reaches a crucial moment that could help to explain the importance of music and the dialectical message in the poem. Realizing the laws of the world, following his thoughts about other art forms in the preceding stanza, Vogler now places his divine music in consideration to divinity itself. The line “But here is the finger of God” marks the height of Vogler’s experience, and makes the claim of music being a form of art analogous to God Himself. Vogler sees the practising of music as something making man able to function as mouthpiece for God, or as an art with the ability to show Heaven, if only for a short moment. For as Shaw argues, the dialectical journey will end in Heaven, but as long as Vogler dwells in his praise for art he will not make it there. This part, however, surely says something else than what Shaw regarding Vogler’s issues is saying, i.e. that this journey towards the unity of all things needs to start in the aesthetical stage, through the ethical to finally end in the religious. The fact that Vogler really has the insight to Heaven, on earth, has disclosed for him the revelation of dialectic final truth. He finds “That out of three sounds he frame, not a fourth sound, but a star”, which is to say that even if this does not mean his ascent to Heaven, he has in his way experienced it even on earth.

     One major aim in this essay is to show that the poem could suggest that the whole, unity and harmony always is momentary, which is something that truly makes people seeking it see the futility about it all, hence the poem’s second half, imbued with disappointment and melancholy.

     The whole poem can be interpreted as a depiction of the priest who doubts, and therefore turns to an earthly medium to find the truth and meaning which he cannot find in the bible or in prayer. Stanza VIII shows Vogler feeling this disappointment over harmony being something never to linger or ending man’s search for completion. He “must be saved”, and despite his doubt, as a priest he does not want to, cannot, fail his faith in God. For even though he is certain of the impossibility of unity as eternal on earth, he nonetheless does not know whether or not eternal unity is possible after the passing of the soul. As a priest, his belief of course should be enough, but since Vogler seems to turn to his organ rather than to God, or has at least done so up until now, he is clearly ambivalent. Nevertheless, the second half of the poem suggests Vogler’s return to the priest’s role as seeing life on earth as subordinate to the afterlife, and the eternal and harmonious whole must exist in God and God only.

     What can never stay the same on earth and what cannot be eternally good here, must be found in Heaven, “Therefore to whom turn I but to thee, the ineffable Name?” (IX. 65.) The tone of the poem has now changed, but the dialectical thought has not, which becomes clear when the dualism of good and evil is now considered from the pure religious aspect. In above-mentioned commentary on “Abt Vogler”, Edward Berdoe actually turns to Hegel in his comment, and seems to suggest him as an allusion in the poem:   

There shall never be one lost good. Whatever of good has existed must always exist. Evil, being self-destructive, finally “is null, is naught.” This is the Hegelian doctrine. Walt Whitman said on reading Hegel, “Roaming in thought over the Universe I saw the little that is Good steadily hastening towards immortality. And the vast all that is called Evil I saw hastening to merge itself and become lost and dead.” [28]

A thought similar to Whitman’s reflection could be found in the poem: ”The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound; / What was good shall be good, with, for evil so much more; / On earth the broken arcs; in the heaven, a perfect round.” (IX. 70–72.) The analogy between music and Christian dialectics is here apparent, especially in that the earlier reasoning about a chord is repeated in the thought of good and evil. The tones “of our scale” mean nothing in themselves; they need the others to create the meaningful whole, as do evil and good, respectively losing their meaning alone. Silence and evil are for Vogler concepts that strengthen his conviction of the possible whole, even if it is attainable only in heaven. That is, since on earth only the temporary glimpse of it all is possible and unities otherwise are separated, Vogler feels that in heaven there must be the eternal whole, “a perfect round”.

     In stanza X, it seems as though such positive concepts as beauty, power and good will in heaven will not be distinguishable, since everything there has merged into one perfect whole, thus the “walls of gold as transparent as glass” will in heaven be solid gold. However, while still on earth, Vogler imagines that different forms of good are there meant to be sent up to God, to join the one good existence, and the medium for this is still music and it is the musician’s job to do so. Thus, Vogler still clings on to his art as the one thing on earth that can convey the good.

     The idea that life on earth is meant as a mere confirmation of eternal life in heaven is further suggested in stanza XI, where Vogler’s contemplations seem to suggest that he is trying hard to convince himself of this. Why this would be the case, rather than the tone being one of pure conviction is indicated by the melancholy tone that also ends the poem. What Vogler feels in the end, then, is ambivalence towards the gift of realizing the heaven-earth dialectics. Stanza XI is underlining what seems to be Shaw’s main point on “Abt Vogler” concerning the succession towards the religious stage; that Vogler cannot let go of his art substitute for religion, even though he seems to be aware of this, which would be the reason for the dejected tone. What “we musicians know” is the dialectic truth about all things, and the reason for this knowledge lies within music itself, “Why else was the pause prolonged but that singing might issue thence? / Why rushed the discords in but that harmony should be prized?” (XI. 83–84.)

     “Abt Vogler’s” ending stanza depicts the speaker’s descent from the heights his holy music has taken him to, down to his plain place on earth, which is symbolized by the C Major chord. His revelation now seems to him overwhelming; the truth he has touched appears to have brought if not sorrow then at least an obvious melancholy upon him. This ending stanza could perhaps be interpreted as reconciliation of the poem’s conflicting issues. However, when considering Vogler’s preceding holy moment of unity this does not seem likely. It should here rather be read as a resort to a greyscale, not to a whole; “All we have willed or hoped or dreamed of good shall exist; / Not its semblance, but itself; no beauty, nor good, nor power” (X. 73–74.) The “semblance” is the C Major chord; it is the compromise that still separates its constituents and counterparts, thus being a kind of deceptive whole. 

     However, feeling that his discovery is too much to bear, Vogler needs this compromise to carry on, and while he still holds the truth, he must nonetheless let go and descend to common life. Having God whispering in one’s ear seems to a divided man like Vogler to be more than he can handle, thus the exclusive role of the insightful musician here becomes somewhat ironic, and suggests that “the C Major of this life” is more comfortable than “the secret chord that pleased the Lord”.

The moment of harmony

Robert Browning’s poem “Abt Vogler” has in the preceding interpretation been treated from a dialectical point of view, since it bears significant indications of being a poem whishing to convey just such a view of the world. W. David Shaw seems to have a similar view, although his analysis of the poem is just part of a larger investigation of Browning as an overall dialectical poet.

     However, Shaw argues that the dialectic goal cannot be reached in “Abt Vogler”, since Vogler is an aesthete or a moralist. According to Shaw, “An aesthete may achieve immediacy, but he can seldom express or prolong it” and “The union the sage is seeking comes only at the religious stage”.[29] Shaw nevertheless feels that Vogler succeeds in conveying to others the momentary revelation he is having, which seems to put Vogler somewhere at the bridge to the religious stage.[30]

     Even though Shaw has a point in his argument, that stuck with earthly mediums and thoughts, one cannot reach divine union, one may still ask why? If the dialectic goal is attainable only in Heaven, then the seeker would have to ascend to Heaven, that is, his life will have to end. And as someone no longer alive, how can that person convey the end of the search for unity? This is the obvious irony of reaching a dialectic whole, since it would seem as though one has to die in order to attain it.

     With the extent of my own analysis in mind, and its implied delimitations, Shaw’s full work of Browning as a dialectical poet will have to be neglected, but the consideration of the irony or paradox in dialectics can be treated even so. The significance of the remarks about the moment made earlier will in this chapter be clarified. The point I am trying to make is that the momentary experience depicted in the poem may just as well be interpreted as the very thing making the whole possible, as opposed to the afterlife being the only possibility. That the poem is a Victorian one might also be relevant, since this era involved new, secular views of the world and, with these, religious doubt, which obviously is what the speaker as divided by art and religion – that is to say, which of them he praises the most – is suffering from.

     On the moment in “Abt Vogler”, Shaw concludes,

The action of the last five stanzas of the poem takes place at the ethical stage, where the moral reflection of the sage reminds us that no revelation in human terms is complete. The ethical man can confront the mystery only on the plane of rational imagination. Since no human subject can grasp the total truth, the seer’s revelation can be only momentary.[31]

Thus, Shaw’s argument is that knowledge of the truth or whole can be only momentary because human beings are unable to “grasp the total truth”. Leaving aspects of Shaw’s religious stage aside, then, one may wonder if the “truth”, here interpreted as union or the whole, can ever be something other than momentary? Is not the search for unity on earth always futile? This is something “Abt Vogler” seems to suggest, considering the sort of quasi unity Vogler at last resorts to, i.e. “The C Major of this life”.

     Taking the argument further, that according to Vogler there can be only temporary unities between earthly matters, the interpretation of the full poem as a suggestion of dialectic futility might be clearer and sounder. In The Phenomenology of Spirit, Hegel discusses the matter of time in relation to dialectics, and draws upon a quite common philosophical issue regarding the “impossibility” of a now, which is what Vogler seems to be troubled with. That is, that the moment a “now” is referred to is at the same time the moment it ceases to be this “now”; it becomes another “now”. However, Hegel’s view seems to be that the “nows” and “heres” in the end indeed are a multitude, which together makes up “universality”.[32] Thus, Hegel manages to see a kind of whole even when considering this matter, which Vogler apparently fails to do. If this is true, i.e. if I have interpreted Hegel correctly, it would suggest that the whole might be present everywhere, even – or perhaps especially – on earth.

     This might cast some light on Vogler as a melancholy seeker of the truth, the whole and completion, who only experiences the futility of that search. For surely the speaker is not happy, even though a short feeling of joy passes through him in his temporary notion of unity. In stanzas IX and X, one can sense the feeling of a sort of unhealthy self-comfort, because of his discovery of the dialectical failure on earth. “The high that proved too high, the heroic for earth too hard, / The passion that left the ground to lose itself in the sky, / Are music sent up to God by the lover and the bard” (X. 77–78.) However, Vogler’s doubt seems in the end not only to concern a solution on earth, since the poem does not really end in his rejoicing in Heaven’s possible harmony. Thus, it is as though Vogler will not find peace in his beliefs, either the earthly or the religious, which might have to do with what Shaw argues about his failures, that he is stuck in his art.

     This does make sense, but for Vogler it is not perhaps mere failure, but the ironic downfall of knowing the truth. For him, his art is not necessarily the thing that keeps him from the truth about harmony; on the contrary, music has made him realize it, “The rest may reason and welcome: ‘t is we musicians know.” (XI. 88.) Music discloses for Vogler the whole, and makes him a part of it, and even though temporary, it is the closest one can get to completion.

     Nothing on earth, then, is permanent, and whether or not it is in the afterlife, one cannot know. As mentioned above, a point of interest is that the poem can be seen as a good example of the Victorian temper, suggesting a great deal of doubt in a world of science and the uncertainty of man’s place and role on earth, and especially what lies beyond. Other poems like Tennyson’s In Memoriam comes to mind when tracing this attitude elsewhere in Victorian poetry, and in “Abt Vogler” a search for a solution is suggested through a dialectical approach and a resort to art, which in the end yet leaves the seeker dejected. Vogler might in the end not be saved by either holy music or faith, but will in the resting-place in “The C Major of this life […] try to sleep” (XII. 96.), perhaps because of his conflicting position as musician and priest. Still, a poem like “Abt Vogler” can be interpreted as a praise for music, which with its quality as dialectic analogue can carry the message about life’s contradictions being able to dissolve, and its opposites to unite, if even just for a short moment.

Summary

This essay has dealt with how the philosophical idea of Hegelian dialectics works in Robert Browning’s poem “Abt Vogler”. Applying this philosophy to the poem has been something this study has tried to legitimize, and by showing the similarities of these two texts, the applicability has been shown to be fruitful. Also W. David Shaw’s thoughts on Browning’s dialectical attitude in his poetry have helped to increase the importance of considering the poem in this way. Uncovering these features of the poem has created a coherent picture of its conflicting issues, in a way that could imply their balance or unity.

     Unity from current dialectical point of view has been put forth as perhaps the most substantial issue of the poem. Stressing the issue of unity, suggested by the poem’s speaker as something possible only temporarily has been done to scrutinize the nature of the dialectic thought in the poem, and to explain the feelings Vogler is conveying. The issue has also been treated as a sort of answer to the question of whether unity or “the whole” could ever be attainable. Although Hegel’s own philosophy sometimes seems to suggest that this is possible, or rather, that harmony is all around us, the poem’s message has been interpreted as neglecting such a thought.

     Shaw’s view of the poem has been compared to my own to nuance the possible interpretations of it, as his analysis although dialectical has functioned as a part of a wider study of Browning’s dialectical temper. However, Shaw has also pointed out the significance of harmony or unity being possible only temporarily, which has strengthened the main argument of this essay.

     The reason for involving music in the study as a rather extensive argument for my conclusions has been, beyond the obvious one of the poem’s thematic use of it, to view music as a symbol or metaphor for dialectics. By doing this, the conclusion about unity and harmony is also clarified, as the speaker of the poem finds these moments in his music rather than in religious circumstances. Shaw implies in his analysis of “Abt Vogler” that the speaker is unable to reach the harmony he is seeking because of his lingering in art, in what he calls “the aesthetic stage”. Contrary to this, the point I have tried to make is rather that this really is where he can find it. The implications of this, furthermore, although a subject only briefly referred to in the study, could be that turning from religion to art was a situation in which people could find themselves in the particular era the poem was written in, the Victorian.

    As a contrast to Abt Vogler’s melancholy conclusions, as interpreted in this essay, another of Browning’s dialectical figures may tell about a less conflicting approach towards the eternal whole:

Grow old along with me!

The best is yet to be,

The last of life, for which the first was made:

Our times are in His hand

Who saith “A whole I planned,

Youth shows but half; trust God: see all nor be afraid!”[33]

Bibliography

Printed material

Browning, Robert, “Abt Vogler”, “Rabbi Ben Ezra”, Robert Browning’s Poetry: authoritative texts, criticism, ed. Loucks, James F., Stauffer, Andrew M., 2nd ed., (New York 2007)

Eliot, T.S., “Tradition and the Individual Talent II”, The Norton Anthology of English Literature. Seventh Edition. Volume 2, (New York 1993)

Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich, The Phenomenology of Spirit (The Phenomenology of Mind), transl. J. B. Baillie, Digireads.com Publishing, (2009)

Shaw, W. David, The Dialectical Temper: The Rhetorical Art of Robert Browning, (New York 1968)

Electronic material

Berdoe, E, Selections from the Poems and Plays of Robert Browning, ed. Reynolds, M. (2009), Project Gutenberg, http://www.gutenberg.org/files/28041/28041-h/28041-h.htm, 20 May 2010

Cohen, Leonard, Hallelujah, http://www.leonardcohen.com/music.cgi?album_id=9&song_id=5,

25 May 2010

“Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich”, Encyclopædia Britannica. Encyclopædia Britannica Online. Encyclopædia Britannica, Web. 20 May 2010, http://www04.sub.su.se:2381/eb/article-9108411

“Marxism”, Encyclopædia Britannica. Encyclopædia Britannica Online. Encyclopædia Britannica, Web. 20 May 2010, http://www04.sub.su.se:2381/eb/article-35143

Reynolds, M, Selections from the Poems and Plays of Robert Browning, ed. Reynolds, M. (2009), Project Gutenberg, http://www.gutenberg.org/files/28041/28041-h/28041-h.htm, 20 May 2010

“Solomon”, Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solomon, 20 May 2010

“Sound Recording”, Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sound_recording, 20 May 2010

Tennyson, Alfred Lord, “Gareth and Lynette”, Idylls of the King, Project Gutenberg, http://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/610/pg610.html, 24 September 2010.

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[1] Cohen, Leonard, Hallelujah, http://www.leonardcohen.com/music.cgi?album_id=9&song_id=5

[2] Notably Christian dualism.

[3] Hegel’s The Phenomenology of Spirit (The Phenomenology of Mind) was published in 1807, and although following other philosophers’ ideas, the specific dialectic system he developed is here what is alluded to.

[4] “Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich.” Encyclopædia Britannica. Encyclopædia Britannica Online. Encyclopædia Britannica, Web. 20 May 2010, http://www04.sub.su.se:2381/eb/article-9108411.

[5] Referring to its method of working with oppositions within a poem to treat it as a complex whole.

[6] “Marxism.” Encyclopædia Britannica. Encyclopædia Britannica Online. Encyclopædia Britannica, Web. 20 May 2010, http://www04.sub.su.se:2381/eb/article-35143. The point of interest here is that Marxist literary theory, as studying literature with external means, is a school officially owing ideas to Hegel.

[7] Robert Browning’s Poetry: authoritative texts, criticism, ed. Loucks, James F., Stauffer, Andrew M., 2nd ed., (New York 2007).

[8] See note 11.The dialectical approach to Browning's poetry is, however, visible in some texts about other of his poems. For example, Isobel Armstrong's essay about “Caliban on Setebos”, in Robert Browning’s Poetry: authoritative texts, criticism.

[9] Shaw, W. David, The Dialectical Temper: The Rhetorical Art of Robert Browning (New York 1968).

[10] Ibid.

[11]A point of interest, however, is that Shaw’s reference to philosophy concerning dialectics is to that of Søren Kierkegaard.

[12] Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich, The Phenomenology of Spirit (The Phenomenology of Mind), transl. J. B. Baillie, Digireads.com Publishing (2009).                         

[13] Eliot, T.S., “Tradition and the Individual Talent II”, The Norton Anthology of English Literature. Seventh Edition. Volume 2 (New York 1993), p. 2395-2401.

[14] Robert Browning’s Poetry: authoritative texts, criticism, ed. Loucks, James F., Stauffer, Andrew M., 2nd ed. (New York 2007), p. 283. References to the poem from here on will be made within brackets.

[15] Solomon – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solomon  

[17] Shaw, p. 140.

[18] As opposed to paintings and poems, which are recorded when created, music could not be captured in the same way at the time. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sound_recording) 

[19] Hegel, p. 57.

[20] Hegel, p. 57.

[21] Ibid., p. 57 f.

[22] Shaw, p. 141.

[23] Ibid., p. 164.

[24] Ibid., p. 144.

[25] Ibid., p. 145.

[26] Tennyson, Alfred Lord, “Gareth and Lynette”, Idylls of the King, E-book from Project Gutenberg. http://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/610/pg610.html, 24 September 2010.

[27] Reynolds, M, Selections from the Poems and Plays of Robert Browning, ed. Reynolds, M. (2009), note 57, p. 421. http://www.gutenberg.org/files/28041/28041-h/28041-h.htm#Page_421, 20 May 2010.

[28] Berdoe, E, quoted from Reynolds, M. (2009), note 69, p. 421, http://www.gutenberg.org/files/28041/28041-h/28041-h.htm#Page_421, 20 May 2010.

[29] Shaw, p. 140.

[30] Ibid.

[31] Shaw, p. 141.

[32] Hegel, p. 50 ff.

[33] Browning, Robert, “Rabbi Ben Ezra”, Robert Browning’s Poetry: authoritative texts, criticism, ed. Loucks, James F., Stauffer, Andrew M., 2nd ed. (New York 2007), p. 286-292.