Gregory Buchanan 23 March 2015 The Complex
Duality of Romantic Selfhood
The Romantic self can be understood by
examining its successive phases of desire and loss. In its most fragmented
state, the Romantic self desires wholeness, despite existing in complete
self-alienation, as though it were composed of two or more parts. Through
self-determination, the Romantic self unifies, only to produce an interior
dualism between the moral categories of good and evil that it unsuccessfully
attempts to resolve with natural reasoning. The Romantic self cannot resolve
this dualism, which is critical to its moral character and larger identity,
because it relies on a self-determined moral standard.
Despite having achieved what it
previously desired, complete selfhood, the Romantic self must lose its
self-determination in order to acquire standards sufficient to make moral
choices normatively instead of naturally. Embracing higher principles of moral
judgment allows the Romantic self to resolve its interior dualism and aspire to
higher selfhood, a desire it may never realize. Our second course objective
states that American Romanticism exposes complimentary dimensions of American
identity, and in so far as the Romantic self is American, it is worthwhile to
examine its resolution of exterior and interior dualisms within the larger
patterns of its desires and losses. Instead of revealing whether American
culture is more materialistic or idealistic, sensual or spiritual, the Romantic
self challenges the basis of these dichotomies by posing natural, intuitive
morality against higher, normative morality. Successive cycles of desire and
loss reveal the progress of the Romantic self, which spirals upward instead of
progressing linearly. By tracing the Romantic self in several course texts
through its self-determined unification, natural reasoning about morality,
renunciation of self-determination, and aspirations for higher self-hood, we
understand the complexity of American identity, and identify points at which
Romanticism relates to later literary schools.
The Romantic self recognizes the broadest
dualism in which it participates, a complete bifurcation of self, and responds
by choosing to unify itself through self-determination, a decision that
resembles the commitment to self-possession that appears in Realism. Although
the Romantic self can appear so thoroughly outside of itself as to literally
exist in two states--a material condition--it retains the moral agency to exert
itself to choose unity, a condition of psychological wholeness, resolving the
dualism. Jonathan Edwards' "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" employs the
Puritan doctrine of original sin, which teaches that unregenerate people exist
in a "fallen" state of alienation from God and the noetic power of true
humanity. Although Puritans traditionally believe that people cannot regenerate
themselves by an exercise of self-will, Edwards seems to believe that his
audience has some agency to at least initiate the beginnings of change, of
self-reconciliation: "Now God stands ready to pity you; this is a day of mercy;
you may cry now with some encouragement of obtaining mercy" (30). Similarly, in
Henry David Thoreau's "Resistance to Civil Government," the Romantic self is
separated into corporeal and mental parts when it serves the state: "The mass of
men serve the state thus, not as men mainly, but as machines, with their bodies"
(6). The unthinking bodies are alienated from their minds, as much as Edward's
unregenerate are alienated from their true humanity, but like Edwards, Thoreau
asserts that the Romantic self can overcome this unprofitable dual existence. To
do so, it must become unified, a "life" consisting of body and mind, united in
its commitment to "be a counter-friction to stop the machine" (15). Both Edwards
and Thoreau believe that the Romantic self, though alienated by sinful nature or
mechanistic service, has the moral agency to can transcend its dualistic
existence and achieve unity through self-initiated effort.
Although the Romantic self may overcome the
dualism of exterior and interior selves by positively choosing interior self,
spiritual life, thoughtful existence, or personal unity, this choice may not
necessarily be self-affirming, a possibility that hints at the later portrayals
of self in Realist texts. In Edgar Allan Poe's "William Wilson," William claims
that he used his agency to achieve complete selfhood, and that despite wishing
he were "the slave of circumstances beyond human control," he describes how he
actively confronted and murdered what appeared to be a duplicate of himself,
which was in actually a fragment of himself. After the murder, William finds
that he has achieved a dark unity of self, which instead of affirming the self,
kills it: "...in my death, see by this image, which is thine own, how utterly
thou hast murdered thyself" (57). This resolution is characteristic of the dark
Romantics, whose conception of the self is inherently pessimistic. The man
climbing Jacob's Ladder in Denise Levertov's "The Jacob's Ladder" seems to have
also resolved the exterior and interior dualism of his self. Through
concentration on the painful process of ascension, the man maintains self-unity
as the ignores the fact that "Wings brush past him" (19). Unlike his angelic
fellow-travelers, the man "must scrape his knees" (17) and suffer pain common to
human but not angelic nature. His behavior is not Romantic. Instead of observing
the angels and desiring to progress as easily as they do, he remains focused,
presumably facing downward, on his hands and knees, as he slowly and carefully
ascends. He is wholly self-possessed, always cognizant of his psychological
interiority, but it is likely the pain of scraped knees and the fear of falling
off the ladder that keeps him so, attributes more common in the texts of
Realists than Romantics.
Even if the Romantic self achieves unity
through self-determination, it encounters interiorized dualism between the
categories of good and evil, which its moral agency may resolve naturally
instead of normatively, anticipating the morality later found in Naturalist
texts. Poe's William does struggle to resolve the dualism between his exterior
and interior selves, but before and after this is done, he is completely
unified, although the second unification is in death. The duplicate William does
not appear until the original William arrives at Dr. Bransby's school, and he is
integrated into the original William when he is murdered at Di Broglio's party.
Before William attends Dr. Bransby's school, he is "self-willed, addicted to the
wildest caprices, and a prey to the most ungovernable passions" (3). His parents
try to restrain him, but he overcomes their efforts, and is left to "the
guidance of my own will" (3). This will is entirely evil, but it is
self-consciously so, suggesting a knowledge of good, as well. William does not
resolve his interior dualism between good and evil normatively because he does
not weigh the categories morally. Instead, he does evil because it is pleasant
and because he "fully inherited the family character," a claim of biological
determinism which Naturalists following Emile Zola would recognize. Thoreau
observes that after the Romantic self unites its body and mind, its
non-conformity to the state may be problematic: "This is hard. This makes it
impossible for a man to live honestly, and at the same time comfortably, in
outward respects" (21). The Romantic self is likely to reject non-compliance for
the sake of comfort, a natural resolution in response to social pressure. Social
determinism informs characters in the work of Naturalists, especially James
Farrell's Studs Lonigan, whose
eponymous protagonist also experiences dualistic interior impulses that he
resolves naturally.
Some texts suggest that the Romantic self,
despite its aspiration to a higher, possibly heavenly, normative standard, never
ceases to naturally resolve the interior dualism between good and evil. Edwards
describes the interior state of unregenerate congregants as entirely governed by
evil: "There are those corrupt principles, in reigning power in them, and in
full possession of them, that are seeds of hell fire" (13). No matter the extent
to which congregants "keep up a form of religion" (25), they cannot invent for
themselves a normative standard with which to resolve the dualism. Only God's
standard is sufficient. The man struggling to ascend in Levertov's poem also
finds himself in opposition to a standard that seems to have divine approbation.
While angels "spring / down from one step to the next" (13-14), the man is
climbing upward. His motion is in opposition to the divine and may be motivated
by pride instead of piety. The juxtaposition of the human and divine in opposite
directions, "Wings brush past him" (19), suggests contrast that may imply
interior conflict. No matter how far the man ascends, presumably closer to God,
he cannot internalize the standard that he is approaching externally. It is the
poem, an outward account of his progress, that ascends (20), which celebrates
the physical triumph of the man, without comment on his spiritual condition.
As Edwards suggests, the man would do well to humble himself if he hopes
to find God's normative standard within.
Ultimately, the Romantic self can only treat
the interior dualism between good and evil normatively by relinquishing its
self-determination and submitting to impersonal, abstract principles that reveal
a higher standard of individuality, and are later questioned by Modernists.
After revealing the comfort and fear that motivate most citizens to remain in
service to the state, Thoreau claims that in order to have true understanding,
citizens must trace "the stream of truth" upward "toward its fountainhead,"
which surpasses the Bible and the Constitution (42). These principles are beyond
the cultural standards with which people are familiar. To some extent they are
impersonal, and to seek them, one must surrender one's capacity to choose the
texts one will endorse unequivocally. This mitigation of personal freedom is
somewhat opposed to Romanticism, but nevertheless, apparently necessary for the
Romantic self. Thoreau also maintains that the individual legitimizes the state
through its superior power: "There will never be a really free and enlightened
State until the State comes to recognize the individual as a higher and
independent power, from which all its own power and authority are derived" (44).
In order for the Romantic self to achieve the individuality Thoreau describes,
it must be able to normatively resolve its own dualism between good and evil.
Only if the Romantic self is not hindered by personal preference, fear, and
comfort will it be able to do so. The necessity of renunciation is clearer in
Edwards' sermon, which insists that only those who have "passed under a great
change of heart, by the mighty power of the Spirit of God" (25) will be capable
of resolving the dualism between good and evil normatively. Modernist authors
such as Virginia Woolf later question the supposed elevation of the principles
Thoreau and Edwards advocate. In Mrs. Dalloway, for example, the protagonist
spends her day engaged in activities that reflect past events in her life, never
questioning whether the standards with which she previously judged were
sufficiently normative.
Whether the Romantic self adopts the higher
principles necessary for normative resolution is sometimes difficult to
determine, but texts always suggest that adoption is possible, sometimes even
hinting that a higher selfhood is attainable. In Poe's "William Wilson," the
duplicate William mostly appears to interfere with the original William's
misbehavior, crossing his path only to "frustrate those schemes, or to disturb
those actions, which, if fully carried out, might have resulted in bitter
mischief" (46). The duplicate William's appearances are the manifestation of a
higher order of living, which the original William might have possessed, had he
been able to judge normatively between good and evil. Since the original William
lacks normative principles, the duplicate William appears as an external self
that literally embodies them. Duplicate William impedes original William because
he is "fulfilling a duty" (40); he does not enjoy interfering with original
William, but he feels that he must because of the higher principles to which he
adheres. By murdering his duplicate, William robs himself of the possibility of
improvement, of higher selfhood,
and in doing so, the depraved life he enjoys also perishes: "Yet, henceforward
art thou also dead--dead to the World, to Heaven, and to hope!" (57). This death
is an extinction of life and of possibility for better life. The man struggling
to ascend in Levertov's poem is also confronted with the possibility of adopting
higher principles. In the first stanza of the poem, the ladder appears "of stone
/ A rosy stone that takes / a glowing tone of softness" (6-8). Although the
stone appears rosy and soft, this is illusory: the gray light of the sky, which
affects the perception of the man, cause the ladder to appear other than it is.
In reality, the ladder is "A stairway of sharp / angles, solidly built" (11-12).
Had the man not relied on his human perception, he might have been informed of
the true constitution of the ladder, which is superior itself in terms of
geometrical principles. The man's faulty perception is what causes his ascension
to be difficult; had he been governed by normative standards, perhaps he would
have had an easier journey.
The Romantic self may possibly ascend to
higher selfhood if the interior dualism between good and evil is resolved
normatively; however, selecting higher principles with which to resolve it is
controversial, as Modernism demonstrates. If the Romantic self can treat the
moral category of good normatively, ascension to higher selfhood seems possible.
The man ascending Jacob's ladder in Levertov's poem has a purpose for doing so,
which is not explained. Although his search for spiritual elevation is presented
in Biblical terms, his progress stands in stark opposition to the chariots of
fire in which Elijah ascended, or the mysterious but complete translation of
Enoch. The physical environment in which the man struggles may indicate interior
conflict: "the sky is a doubtful, / a doubting night gray" (9-10). This
"doubting" in the sky likely corresponds to doubt in the mind of the man, since
correspondence between exterior and interior states is common in Romanticism.
Ultimately the "poem ascends" (20), suggesting that at least the narrative of
the man's journey achieves recognition. The constitution of the stairway, "rosy
stone" (7), can be read optimistically, and although angels are able to ascend
more speedily than the man, his consistent progress also seems to become more
sure with time: "The cut stone / consoles his groping feet" (18-19). Overall it
seems that the man struggling toward higher selfhood is able to proceed, even if
slowly and painfully. Understanding the interior principle that motivates his
progress remains difficult, but this challenge may suggest the insights of
literary movements subsequent to Romanticism, especially those of Modernism,
which also challenge the apparently solid, stony ground of traditional normative
standards.
By following the Romantic self
through its self-determined unification, natural reasoning about morality,
renunciation of self-determination, and aspirations for higher self-hood, we
understand the complexity of American identity, and identify points at which
Romanticism relates to Realism, Naturalism, and Modernism. The negative aspects
of selfhood described in Levertov's "The Jacob's Ladder" resemble those that
might be found in the comprehensive psychological profiles of Henry James.
Similarly, the suggestions of biological determinism used to explain the
misbehavior of William in Poe's "William Wilson" and unregenerate persons in
Edwards' "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" are comparable to arguments for
social difference made by the Naturalists Emile Zola and Frank Norris. Finally,
the higher principles or normative standards that the Romantic self seeks to
resolve the interior dualism between good and evil seem similar to the targets
of Modernist criticism in several works. A fundamental premise of Modernism is
distrust in the apparently sound principles of traditional morality, so it is
especially interesting to observe this intersection between Romantic and
Modernist thought, as each at least admit the search for truer, or more
authentic means of moral judgment.
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