Romanticism: A State of the Union

Inspired by the President’s State of the Union address, I have decided to offer you, my Romantic brethren, a review of the state of Romantic studies. Despite our brooding Byronic ways, our Union is getting stronger. The house of cards may indeed have fallen, but our field is not languishing on the marble steps. Moneta will come!

::obligatory applause break::

The 2010 NASSR Conference in Vancouver, British Colombia took the idea of “Romantic Mediations” as its theme. Participants were encouraged to submit proposals that explored communication technologies and print culture. As the call for papers makes clear, “The era that saw the invention of semaphore, telegraphy, the continuous-feed press, and the difference engine, the Romantic in all its senses might be characterized as a period of significant experimentation in media and ideas of mediations” (NASSR). While many papers engaged with new inventions and their effects on Romantic era works – I heard an excellent paper regarding the influence semaphore had on theatrical gesturing practices – others utilized the concepts and language of media and mediation in order to offer new and perhaps more precise ways of engaging with and understanding key Romantic writers and texts.

The issues and concerns of last year’s NASSR conference are also being addressed by McGill University’s ongoing collaborative endeavor “Interacting with Print: Cultural Practices of Intermediality 1700-1900.” Founded in 2005, the interdisciplinary and interinstitutional research group headed by Susan Dalton, Andrew Piper, Tom Mole and others sets out to investigate “how people interacted with printed matter, how they used print media to interact with other people and how printed texts and images interacted within complex media ecologies.” The group focuses on the relations and interactions between various media. In order to more accurately, in its terms, “situate” print, the collaborative group sets out to debunk three prevalent scholarly “myths”: that print displaced other media, that print equals letterpress or engraving, and that print culture is national culture. In the online manifesto for “Interacting with Print,” the group claims that their “research activities will provide a more specific understanding of print’s place in the production, dissemination and reception of culture in a period that saw the development of mass media.” Print, as this quotation makes clear, was only one of many mediums for producing and disseminating culture and oftentimes incorporated other forms of media such as printed images.

Together, the conference and working research group speak to a set of issues being addressed by current critics of the Romantic period. Many scholars, including myself, have asked why this interest in media and mediation is emerging at the present moment. I believe that the answer, at least in part, lies in the new descriptions and definitions of the Romantic period and Romanticism offered by thinkers like Walter Ong and Friedrich Kittler. In his 1982 work Orality and Literacy, Ong claims that the Romantic desire for “autonomous utterance” is facilitated by print and speaks to the “alliance of the Romantic movement with technology” (158). That is, print mediates the Romantic desire for interiority and individuality. According to Ong, there is a clear correlation between the mediums of Romantic art, in this instance print, and the prevalent artistic ideology of the period. Relying on and citing Ong’s work with notable frequency, John David Black’s recent book The Politics of Enchantment: Romanticism, Media, and Cultural Studies labels Romanticism as one of the effects of print: “Coming some three centuries after the invention of the mechanical press, romanticism was the mature cultural expression of the cumulative effects of Gutenberg’s breakthrough” (134). This quotation makes Romanticism the result of the proliferation of print that started with Gutenberg’s press.

Similarly to Ong, Kittler’s landmark work Discourse Networks 1800/1900, published in 1985 in the original German and translated into English in 1990, draws attention to the relationship between media and Romanticism. Especially important to Kittler’s text is Foucault’s essay “Maurice Blanchot: The Thought from Outside.” In this early work, Foucault develops what David Wellbery calls “a lexicon of exteriority” (xii). The French thinker sets out to distinguish between language itself and “the apparatuses of power, storage, transmission, training, reproduction, and so forth that make up the conditions of factual discursive occurrences” (Wellbery xii). Like Foucault before him, Kittler’s work situates what is said or written in a secondary position and instead focuses on these “apparatuses.” His decision to title his 1987 follow up work Gramophone, Film, and Typewriter further underscores the important role communication and storage apparatuses play in his thinking. For Kittler, scholars are always dealing with media, with the technological possibilities of any given epoch because it is through the media of a given moment that “something like “poetry” or “literature” can take shape” (Wellbery xiii). As Thomas Streeter points out, Kittler “suggests that one should understand romanticism, not as a collection of texts or a historical period, but as a way of organizing discourse through practices of writing, reading, and relating” (777). Streeter and other critics, however, also feel that Kittler’s work often places too much emphasis on technologies and, at times, veers towards techno-determinism. Yet, these criticisms aside, the German thinker’s influence over contemporary literary studies in general as well as Romantic criticism is undeniable.

Clifford Siskin and William Warner’s collection of essays, This Is Enlightenment, elaborates upon the ideas present in Discourse Networks as well as Gramophone, Film, and Typewriter. The two critics argue that every history constructed by literary scholars has its benefits but a history of what they term “mediation” has the potential to “clarify both the singularity of each local event and what those events have in common” (11). They “use “mediation” here in its broadest sense as shorthand for the work done by tools, by what we now call “media” of every kind – everything that intervenes, enables, supplements, or is simply in between” (4). In this passage we can begin to see the similarities to Ong, Foucault, and Kittler’s focus on the technologies and “apparatuses” of given historical moments. Siskin and Warner, who were the keynote speakers at the NASSR conference referred to at the start of this post, show that “mediation was always necessary but the forms of mediation differ over time” and therefore there exists “a history of mediation” (9). Under this new framework, the Enlightenment becomes “an event in the history of mediation” (1). The Enlightenment was facilitated by a historically specific set of forms of mediation such as print, reading, writing, and other associational and relational practices.

Naturally, redefining the Enlightenment in such a manner leaves critics of the Romantic and Victorian eras asking what place in the new history their own periods hold. Siskin and Warner address this question in their 2011 article in The European Romantic Review, “If this is Enlightenment, Then What Is Romanticism?” According to the article, “Enlightenment is an event, Romanticism is an eventuality, and Victorianism is a variation” (290). The forms of mediation do not change or proliferate in equal measure. That is, some moments, in this instance the Enlightenment, have both a greater variety and number of forms of mediation than others. The claim that Romanticism can be seen as an “eventuality” also reflects John David Black’s claim that Romanticism is the “mature cultural” result of the Gutenberg press.

If the “apparatuses” of storage, transmission, communication, etc. are worthwhile objects of inquiry and if the Enlightenment is an event in the history of mediation, then how is the current scholar of the Romantic period to engage with and comment upon a work or a collection of works? Or, as John Richetti asks in his review of the This Is Enlightenment collection, “How would foregrounding mediation change the kinds and areas of inquiry in our own epoch?”

Yours in Romanticism,

R. A. Sessler

Coleridge, Plotinus, and the Materials of Poetry

This post examines the scholarly implications of the unique circulation history of Coleridge’s Kubla Khan. Specifically, this post asks what is lost when we privilege the material history of poetry? What role should the recitation history of a work like Kubla Khan play in our readings of the poem? What does the act of recitation represent to Coleridge himself?

In Biographia Literaria, Coleridge relies upon Plotinus to describe the labor of the philosopher. Addressing the concept of philosophical creation, Coleridge quotes from Plotinus’s Third Ennead, “My contemplation creates what is contemplated, as the geometricians draw figures as they contemplate. But it is not in drawing figures but in contemplating that the lines of the forms are settled” (144). Coleridge agrees with Plotinus’s claim that “contemplation” gives rise to “the lines of the forms.” The lines exist in the mind of the geometrician before they are put onto paper. The paper, for Plotinus as well as for Coleridge, becomes simply the means through which the contemplation of the geometrician can have material existence. The excerpt that Coleridge chooses speaks to Plotinus’s concept of the hypostases, or stages of emanation. In The Enneads, Plotinus describes a central, unified divinity called the One that emanates outward to become part of all things in existence. However, some things are closer to and more intimately connected with the One. The human soul, for example, is much closer to the One than material objects. In fact, according to Plotinus, material things are at the greatest possible distance from the One. Yet, all art must exist in something. The sculptor, painter, and poet all must rely upon material in order to express what they contemplate. Plotinus’s Fifth Ennead provides a context for better understanding what the transformation of an immaterial speech act to a printed text means for Coleridge.

At the start of The Fifth Ennead, Plotinus describes the current condition of humanity.The philosopher asks, “What can it be that has brought the souls to forget the father, God, andthough members of the Divine and entirely of that world, to ignore at once themselves and It?’ (Mackenna 1). Despite the fact that human souls are “members of the Divine,” humanity has forgotten its own divinity as well as the source of that divinity, God. Plotinus argues that exertion of “self – will” leads human souls away from “the Divine” (Mackenna 1). It is this distance from the source of all divinity that hinders the development of individual souls: “ A child wrenched young from home and brought up during many years at a distance will fail in knowledge of its father and of itself: the souls, in the same way, no longer discern either the divinity or their own nature” (Mackenna 1). Souls fail to develop properly because they do not recognize their own worth. Rather than admiring their own inherent divinity, souls “misplace their respect, honouring everything more than themselves” (Mackenna 1). Plotinus believes that the soul must study itself in order to once more recognize its connection to the One. Plotinus posits that the One is “all things and no one of them; the source of all things is not all things; all things are its possession – running back, so to speak, to it – or, more correctly, not yet so, they will be” (Mackenna 16). The One is the source and owner of all things. It does not belong to or have the characteristics of anything in the world but everything in the world exhibits, to a greater or lesser degree, some aspects of the One. According to Plotinus, the soul who wishes to regain the honor of her rank will begin “running back” to its divine source, back to the One.

The philosopher goes on to argue that there are three initial hypostases or stages that proceed outward from the One. The first, and therefore the closest to the One, is the “Divine Intellect” (Mackenna 16). Plotinus locates the “Divine Intellect” not in the sensory of material world, but in “what Plato calls the Interior Man,” or the soul (Mackenna 14). For Plotinus, the intellectual part of the soul remains pure: “The reasoning phase of the soul, needing no bodily organ for its thinking but maintaining, in purity, its distinctive Act that its thought may be uncontaminated – this we cannot err in placing, separate and not mingled into body, within the first Intellectual” (Mackenna 14). In this passage, there is a clear division between the sensory world and the pure realm of “the first Intellectual.” “The reasoning phase of the soul” needs “no bodily organ for its thinking” because the One has already bestowed upon it, in the words of M.H. Abrams, the “totality of the fixed Platonic forms” (Abrams 147). The forms are, for Plotinus, the “permanent Right” that guides that “reasoning in our soul” (Mackenna 14). The Soul, the second hypostasis, springs from the Divine Intellect: “The Soul arises as the idea and act of the motionless Intellectual – Principle” (Mackenna 16). The Soul “takes fullness by looking at its source,” namely the Intellectual – Principle or Divine Intellect. Abrams rightly points out that, “These hypostases descend along a scale of ever increasing “remoteness” from the One” (147). That is, the divine intellect directly springs from the One and the Soul in turn springs from the Divine Intellect.

The material universe is the third and most remote stage. While there are many issues that Plotinus’s discussion of material raises, I want to focus on the relationship between art and the material that it occupies. Plotinus sets out to understand the ways that the objects produced by intellectual labor can guide individuals back to the One. At the start of On the Intellectual Beauty, the Eighth Tractate of The Fifth Ennead, the philosopher imagines an individual moving through the three hypostases to return to the One: “It concerns us, then, to try to see and say, for ourselves and as far as such matters may be told, how the Beauty of the divine Intellect and of the Intellectual Cosmos may be revealed to contemplation” (174). Through the “contemplation of art,” progress through the hypostases is possible. Plotinus seeks to separate the idea behind a piece of art from the materials that it manifests itself in. According to the philosopher, a sculpture is not beautiful because of the stone that it is made out of but “in virtue of the Form or Idea introduced by” it (174). Although the artist must use materials, the “Idea or Form” that these materials express makes the art objects potentially beneficial. Yet, it is important to recognize that the idea that leads to the creation of art belongs to a higher hypostasis: “Then again every prime cause must be, within itself, more powerful than its effects can be: the musical does not derive from an unmusical source but from music; and so the art exhibited in the material work derives from an art yet higher” (175). A musical derives from music and a poem derives from poetry. The ideal form or idea of each type of art belongs to and resides with the One.

Plotinus’s desire to draw a distinction between objects of art and the ideas behind them becomes more evident as On the Intellectual Beauty progresses. The immaterial idea of a work of art is more beautiful than any embodiment of it: “Now we can surely not believe that, while the made thing and the Idea thus impressed upon Matter are beautiful, yet the Idea not so alloyed but resting still with the creator – the Idea primal, immaterial, firmly a unity – is not Beauty” (176). In this passage, Plotinus emphasizes the action of an artist. While the “Idea” itself rests “still with the creator,” artists must labor to make their materials manifest their Idea. The “primal” and “immaterial” Idea is not beautiful; it is serene and resting “Beauty.” Ultimately, Plotinus concludes that “One way, only, remains: all things must exist in something else” (180). He then attempts to make all matter the result of an Idea. The material world emerges as “an Idea – the lowest – all this universe is Idea and there is nothing that is not Idea” (180). Although the material world is “the lowest” expression of a form or idea, it still has potential. For Plotinus, material that is sculpted, painted, or written on has the capacity to help wayward souls rediscover their value and connection to the One.

Plotinus’s hypostases and thoughts regarding artistic material provide us with a context for interpreting the recitation history of Kubla Khan. Commenting on the attraction to the reciter, Coleridge writes in his Biographia, “For this is really a species of animal magnetism, in which the enkindling reciter, by perpetual comment of looks and tones, lends his own will and apprehensive faculty to his editors. They live for a time within the dilated sphere of his intellectual being” (283). According to the OED, enkindle means “to cause a flame, to blaze up.” The phrase “enkindling reciter,” then, invites two principal readings. First, the reciter becomes the source, the catalyst that is able to ignite feelings of sympathy in his/her audience. Second, and more important, the reciter is a consuming force. Through recitation, the material object of the poem is consumed and becomes an immaterial speech act. The “enkindling reciter” also utilizes his “looks and tones” in order to perpetually “comment” on the words he/she is speaking and further engage his/her audience. The shift from material object to spoken, “enkindling” performance enables the reciter to lend “his own will and apprehensive faculty to his editors.” The auditory editor is able to become part of the expanded “sphere” of the poet/reciter’s “intellectual being.” Instead of the artist conveying meaning to a passive audience, Coleridge’s framework suggests that artist and auditory editors, at least temporarily, inhabit the same intellectual space. In the context of Plotinus, this shared space means the reciter and the listener contemplate the idea behind the poem together.

The live recitation and publication of Kubla Khan, therefore, result in very different experiences for the audience as well as for Coleridge himself. The “enkindling reciter” consumes the manuscript materials of poetry and turns them into an immaterial speech act. From 1798 to 1816, Coleridge himself functioned as the vehicle through which the poem circulated. The physical presence of the reciter in the room allows for lively discourse and, according to Coleridge, the sharing of intellectual space. In the context of Plotinus, Coleridge and his audience are able to discuss and contemplate the idea or form behind the poem together. The transformation from immaterial recitation to published text exposes the problems inherent in artistic materials. The “lantern of typography” reduces the poem to mere letters on a page. While the recitation of the poem brings “heaven and Elysian bowers” to Lamb, contemporary readers confront what they believe to be “nonsense.” Also, when he recites his work, Coleridge occupies a higher hypostasis. The poet does not rely upon the materials of art and is able to use his “looks and tones” to help guide his audiences to the idea behind his poetry. In other words, there is one less layer of mediation to overcome on the journey back to the divine One. By not relying on the materials of poetic creation, Coleridge’s Kubla Khan can remain “a miracle of rare device.”

Works Cited

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor. Biographia Literaria or Biographical Sketches of My Literary Life and Opinions. Ed. George Watson. New York: Dutton, 1962.

______. Coleridge’s Poetry and Prose. Eds Nicholas Halmi, Paul Magnuson, and Raimonda Modiano. New York: Norton, 2004.

Plotinus. The Divine Mind, Being the Treatises of the Fifth Ennead. Trans. Stephen  Mackenna. Boston: The Medici Society, 1926.

_______. “The Fifth Ennead: Eighth Tractate On the Intellectual Beauty.” The Norton Anthology  of Theory and Criticism. Eds. William E. Cain, Laurie A. Finke, Barbara Johnson, John McGowan, and Jeffrey Williams. New York: Norton, 2001. 171-185.

R. A. Sessler

Audio Recording of the Publication Event

Hello,

In case you were not able to make it to our publication panel with Bill Germano and Cliff Siskin, we have uploaded an audio recording of the event. The initial few minutes are a bit difficult to hear but hang in there – it gets much clearer right when our two speakers take over!

Click Here: Publication Panel

Introducing MediaThread

This term I’ve been visiting Mark Phillipson’s Multimedia Blake, a senior English seminar at Columbia University. As its title suggests, the course offers a non-traditional approach to William Blake’s poetry through an in-depth analysis of his written texts as much as his images. Phillipson uses MediaThread in the class, an innovative software program created by Columbia’s Center for New Media Teaching and Learning (CCNMTL) that facilitates such an examination of Blake’s multimedia production.

As the Center’s website indicates, the software “connects to a variety of image and video collections (such as YouTube, Flickr, library databases, and course libraries), enabling users to lift items out of these collections and into an analysis environment. In MediaThread, items can then be clipped, annotated, organized, and embedded into essays and other written analysis” (http://ccnmtl.columbia.edu/mediathread).

I believe the above description does more than justice to represent this fascinating tool; it brings new meaning to engaged academic communities by redefining online classroom technology. Based on my observations, the program works very well not only for its seminar purposes but also, I dare say, for new possibilities in Blakean Studies. Its zooming and “lifting out” capabilities of the minutest of details (from each digitized image) lend to fruitful observations and discussion that a view of the printed image could hardly reproduce. Through the use of digitized images from the wonderful blakearchive.org, MediaThread allows for a side-by-side analysis, for instance, of Blake’s representations of females, Los, Urizen, or even his peculiar trees. Students can also scrutinize the many versions of Blake’s images—including his varying use of color, shading, strokes, and other remarkable details.

Programs like Blackboard, Sakai, or other related course technology certainly have their merit by offering pre or post-classroom intellectual exchange, but these conversations are usually limited to written textual analysis. MediaThread enables the simultaneous analysis of text and multimedia. It allows classroom participants new entryways into a work’s material conditions, permitting the potential reframing of its production and reception history. It also prompts several questions about current forms of access to literary works—including new ways of reading and analyzing a text. With this software, students could conceivably examine other digitized images of, say, original manuscripts or rare (first) print editions. And if such a program can revolutionize the classroom, why would it (or something like it) not eventually change the sphere or direction of literary scholarship or even the broader digital humanities? The possibilities seem very exciting.

Because of its promising features , we are hoping to ask Mark Phillipson or any other member of Columbia’s team to give a presentation on MediaThread to our NYU English Department faculty and graduate students. We will provide our followers with updates about this potential event in the near future.

-Omar F. Miranda