Reading Response 3

“A poet is the most unpoetical of any thing in existence, because he has no identity—he is continually in for—and filling some other Body”. This profound statement by John Keats, a romantic poet and author of “Isabella, or the Pot of Basil”, sets before the reader a conflict and a truth: the conflict of the statement lies inside individual perspectives, while the truth falls inside ones own experience. This statement tests black, white and grey areas and unlocks a great philosophical debate of its own. The statement is also the opening sentence for E. Douka Kabitoglou’s analasis article Adapting Philosophy to Literature: the Case of John Keats, in which Kabitoglou does exactly that. His article covers a number of related topics, such as the understanding of poetical identity, a philosophy that follows the same line of thought as Keats’s infamous statement. Kabitoglou drives the reader to delve into the significance of identity, its great exception to poem authors, and whether the losing of oneself in one’s poetry is a cost-benefit analysis for the ages: lose one’s identity in return for the “understanding” and “knowledge” that comes with taking on the identity of pure beauty? If this isn’t already a Philosophical-fest Kabitoglou pursues the relation of beauty and truth through conflicted greats like Plato, Aristole, Milton and Coleridge. “what is systematic beauty?” “Can what is ugly be true?” and “what are we supposed to learn from beauty?” are just are a few of the questions the dissections of the former poets imposed on Keats yield. In some ways, it all is greatly relatable to this blog, and Isabella in particular. Keats’s intentions of making the tragedy of Isabella out to be a teachable, beautiful tale, as well as the identity of a poet are two examples. The Headless Boyfriend is about Isabella, but the Keats’s “truth” is more worthwhile than the more obvious tragedy.

            One of the interesting points that came to me during my reading of Adapting Philosophy to Literature: the Case of John Keats struck me when I came across the poet’s arguments on Beauty, its relationship to truth, and the understanding that comes with beauty and truth combined. In particular it made me think about the tragedy of Isabella and what Keats really intended for the poem to be. In the article, Kobitoglou follows the poets’ musings. Its agonizing. Kobitoglou makes his analysis by examining multiple poets’ perspectives on this subject, from multiple different angles. To sum up the section, John Keats himself makes a crucial point in the form of prose:

“ ‘where the doth nightingale doth sing/ not a senseless, traced thing, / but divine melodious truth; / philosophic numbers smooth.’”

My interpretation of it is that the singing of the bird, even though it is not scripted or a direct attempt of the bird to make joyous noise, is beautiful. The beauty of the singing might be unintentional, but that does not make it senseless. This spontaneous, beautiful song from a seemingly unimportant piece of nature is evidence enough to Keats that there is real Beauty, and that beauty is truth, and therefore by listening to the song of the bird, we can speculate and maybe understand. What’s more, Keats (much like Plato and Aristole) comes to the conclusion that systems and machinations of man are insufficient to explain truth. Rather, Keats, Kibotoglou, Plato, and Shaftsburry explain beauty as the “voice” of the universe:

“ ‘ the truth of the universe speaks, as it were, through the phenomenon of beauty; it is no longer inaccessible, but requires a means of ecpression, a language in which the meaning of this truth, its real logos, is first completely revealed’”.

 This ultimum, of course, leads to questions of the beauty of intellectual power, the reason for beauty in systematic phenomenon, and the learning points of purity, which you can all read for yourselves in the article which you can read here. However, we have reached the point that so strikes me in regards to Isabella. In a way, it strikes me that all this(explanations of beauty, truth, and learning) reverses the entire story of Isabella, or the Pot of Basil. The story of a young maiden and lad in love, separated by social distinction, cleaved from each other by jealous cruelty, only to find that their love is strong enough to bloom as a shrine to that one love from beyond the grave, leaving one dead girl to waste away from absence of a pure, innocent love, cannot be, by the poets understanding of love, be a tragedy! In complete opposite the poem can be beauty, and therefore truth, and therefore it provides an understanding to us through understanding the meanings and symbolism of the poem.

               

           

Prose Poem: Say

If you know it say nothing; know nothing its conversation.

For aimless you are in nebulous space, swinging, turning, or hanging on thread, cast about or swallowed up—depending on the space you’re in. Is that adventure?

What you’ve always dreamed of is nor near nor close and yet is its whispering reality is as far as the sectioned distance between hands on grand wall clocks will let it be, and your feet name the color of path.

A plan. A plan is all we’ve got and yet plans are abstract—the rules don’t play by the rules because life was mapped in neon colored puzzle pieces on our rubiks cube.

We’re we’ll go, what we will do, will we love it (we better, it’s a lot of money), and why? – are terrible questions we ask ourselves in this garden of sound and song, of rocks and grinding stones, of our fleeting creations of mind that our beautiful summer and spring escaped to but we ourselves can’t follow for long.

 On this eve of traditional leaving we don’t doubt we can do it—because, oh no, we can do it—we’ve been building ourselves in our respective gyms with you.

We grasp thorned barbells with white knuckles and grunt out the crunches, we trip up the rose-red stairs to repetitive beats.

We’ve sat in study halls sunlit with great lights illuminating concrete blocks that build those gyms, their grey and sometimes gold handles holding us close for when the grand wall clock peals.

And we wonder, as we await to let go these chains and ropes that restrain to colder, more ground-level floor, why we grip so tight to that same chain and rope.

In the end it’s only me. Standing in front of the airlock door. The windows so fogged over like cotton balls against a fishtank the outside cannot look in.

I am getting out. Plans blow like paper napkins off me, the schematics, the plots, the order, all down a vacuum that taught me—what did it teach me?—gone. It doesn’t matter when I am mapped out inside my pulsating head, and discover the spear stuck firmly on a printed map icon:

I know who I am.

If I know it I say nothing; I know nothing its conversation.

Wordsworthians on Wordsworth

I recently devoted a fair amount of time to reading a fellow students’ blog: Wordsworthians. Focused on the life, works, and philosophy of the Romantic poet William Wordsworth, Wordsworthians Blog is chocked full of Wordsworth history and writing. The actual guy was a bit of a poet-obsessive; Wordsworth’s The Prelude (an autobiographical poem that took over fifty years of writing and revision) went on to rival other epics like Paradise Lost. If that doesn’t get you interested in the works of Mr. Wordsworth, the man’s philosophy and perspective in the Romantic era is certainly worth checking out.

            I enjoyed the blog’s overall look and theme. While creating a blog dedicated to a single author might seem easier, than, say, forming a blog from one poem, covering William Wordsworth’s works and importance is a bit of a chore. Wordsworthians Blog did a good job in their research and detail. The blog’s overall look is pretty simple. There is a well-designed heading and easy-to-read posts unencumbered by graphics. As a matter of fact the only thing lacking on the blog is graphics; there are few videos, pictures, and links.

            One of the most interesting things about the blog, I found, was Wordsworth’s religion. Although I had been in a class last year that widely covered romanticism and its byproduct transcendentalism and all associated authors, it was most interesting to learn again how and why Wordsworth found nature to be his religion. According to Wordsworth, there is “something special about nature”, that “To commune with the fields and waters, the woodlands and the hills, is to commune, according to our modern and northern ideas, with the visible manifestations of the 'Wisdom and Spirit of the Universe ".  His beliefs were probably shared among many romantic poets, but what struck me is that Wordsworth actually gained a large following in leading this idea. His followers were called “Wordsworthians”; it would seem then that this blog is very aptly named.

            This blog’s importance lies in its reflections on Wordsworth’s poetry, his philosophy, and his history. It delves into some of the characteristics of what romanticism was at the time, and is very thorough in its research. I would recommend this blog to anyone who is interested in Romanticism and that era; William Wordsworth I believe was a core Romantic Poet.

Why Basil?

In John Keat’s Isabella, or The Pot of Basil, Isabella, famously beautiful girl of wealthy family falls madly in love with a common laborer named Lorenzo. The two lovers hate being away from the other, and so passionate is their love that Isabella falls ill without Lorenzo’s love. Lorenzo and Isabella experience blissful days of love until Isabella’s older brothers, being cruel and angered at their sister for loving a common peasant, secretly kill Lorenzo and bury him in the forest. The brothers tell Isabella that Lorenzo has left for regions unknown, but Isabella meets her lover in a dream and there discovers the cause of his absence. Isabella finds Lorenzo’s corpse in the forest, but cannot take her (very dead) lover with her. She resolves instead to cut off Lorenzo’s head and take it with her. Once home, Isabella’s still-passionate love for Lorenzo dictates that he be with her always, and so:

“she wrapp’d it up; and for its tomb did choose

A garden-pot, wherin she laid it by

And cover’d it with mould, and o’er it set

Sweet Basil, which her tears kept ever wet.”

            …the rest of the story is well known. I wondered, though, why Isabella chooses to bury her lover’s head in a flower pot, and then, of all the plants that a wealthy family in Spain could possibly have, choose to anoint her lover with “Sweet Basil”. Why not roses, the classic romantic flower of love, or some other flower of passion? What about a cactus? What symbolism does a smelly, funny tasting herb-bush have growing out of Lorenzo’s head in Keat’s epic passion-filled poem?

            Basil, as it turns out, possesses not only a spicy clove-like aroma, great taste, powerful seasoning, and the delicacy of Italian cuisine, but also a symbolic footing in lore and legend. Originally from Asia, Ocimum Basilicum was revered by many religions for having magical properties. A sacred herb in the hindu religion, a hindu must be buried with a basil leaf on his head in order to get to heaven. In addition, basil in India is called “Tulasi”, named after a Hindu goddess who remained faithful to her husband straight to her death. Tulasi is a goddess of faithfulness and is supposed to keep women from becoming widows. Thus, basil became a symbol of love and eternal life. Basil also found its niche in Greek mythology, being associated with Aphrodite and other love goddesses. This Greek connection played out into roman culture, where it symbolized love and is thought to attract husbands to wives. Young maidens in Italy will wear a sprig of basil in their hair or place a pot of basil in their window to profess their availability to young men. And finally, a direct hit from Sicily: Basil is associated with love and death in Sicilian folklore when it sprouts from the head of (who else but) Isabetta of Messina’s slain lover.

            Basil continues to branch out into numerous different meanings, symbolisms, and uses across Hindu, Christian, and pagan religions, representing anything from love and life, wealth and death, stimulant and intoxicant, to polar opposite associations like hatred and scorpions, Basil has a great importance in Isabella, or the Pot of Basil. It’s not so much of a random plant covering Lorenzo after all.

Check out Article Alley’s “Basil for Everything” for more on Basil’s history and importance.

Also check out the below links, I used them for reference.

1. http://homecooking.about.com/od/foodlore/a/basillore.htm
2. http://www.basilguide.com/history-of-basil.cfm
3. http://nepspeed82.blogspot.com/2007/04/basil-as-aphrodisiac.html

Isabella or The Pot of Basil: Influence on society and why its not very popular today

Isabella, or, the Pot of Basil is narrative poem by John Keats about the love obsession of Isabella, a young beautiful girl of a wealthy family who falls in love with Lorenzo, a trade servant. Staged in the middle ages, the poem follows the growing love between Lorenzo and Isabella, and the growing danger that their love brings. With social status at such extreme opposites, the two lovers keep their love secret in order to avoid the wrath of Isabella’s family, who plan to marry off Isabella to “some high noble and his olive trees”. Although the last sections of the poem finds Lorenzo, Isabella, and her evil brothers all at different ends of a great tragedy, Isabella and Lorenzo’s dangerous and passionate romance have been a popular subject for romanticism art and have influenced several great painters in a number of different styles. The most noted painters on the topic of Isabella are Millais, Hunt, Waterhouse, and Alexander.

           

           John Everett Millais (1829-1896) painted Lorenzo and Isabella, an episode depicting Lorenzo (in pink) and Isabella early on in the poem, eating a dinner. Millais used symbolism to convey the future story that plays out in Keat’s poem; For example, Lorenzo is giving Isabella a blood orange, symbolizing his future death. The brother across from Isabella is cruelly kicking the dog at Isabella’s side, which makes him a clear antagonist. Millais was a poet, artist, and critic and more can be read about him and his Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood on this site.

William Holeman Hunt’s(1827-1910) painting Isabella and the Pot of Basil is further along in the poem. The painting depicts Isabella in a nightgown, surrounded by light and colorful house decorations, cradling the pot of basil. Like Millais, Hunt was a poet, artist, and critic in the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood and filled his paintings with symbolism and detail. In the painting, red roses next to the pot symbolize the love of Lorenzo and Isabella while a skull ebbed in the pot symbolize Lorenzo’s undignified end. Isabella wears a white nightgown, symbolizing her purity of heart (or maybe that’s the only color nightgown she had?).

Does Hunt’s Isabella look a bit heavy for a broken-hearted lover wasting away for want of Lorenzo? If you thought so, here’s the reason: Hunt was a realist and preferred painting real-to-life. At the time, the only model he had was his wife, and she was pregnant with their son. Thus, pregnant, pining Isabella mourns life away in Hunt’s painting.

            John William Waterhouse (1849-1917) portrayed his version of Isabella more dreary and loyal to the “pining Isabella” description of Keat’s poem. A pale Isabella clutches the earthen pot stiffly, looking just as woeful and inanimate as her surroundings. The dark colors of the painting bring out the despondent feel of the work. Waterhouse was also part of the PRB group and shared the group’s philosophy on artwork.

John White Alexander(1856-1915)  also recreated Isabella and the Pot of Basil. Alexander’s style is the least symbolic but does not lose detail, portraying Isabella alone in the dark with her pot of basil. Of all the works on this topic, Alexander’s Isabella portrays the tragedy darkest. Alexander was not among the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, instead starting out as a cartoonist for newspapers.

Although Isabella, or the Pot of Basil stirred up some activity in art, it apparently did not achieve great influence points in music or make any great ballads. As far as society and culture goes, very few obvious, straight-from-John-Keats materials exsist today. There are a few works that have sprung from romantic roots and have some characteristics of Isabella's story, but not many are really trully drawn from Keat's Isabella. I imagine that the reason there are fewer poems, stories, songs, and movies illustrating a theme like Isabella is because the concept wouldn't sell well, or at least not as well with a love-obsessed maiden who simply withers away than a vengful heroine who blazes 9mm 's at every enemy she sees. Or if it doesn't sell well, it’s simply not a pleasant topic. Isabella and Lorenzo, while a classic story of forbidden love, takes a very unpleasant turn once Isabella grabs a knife. And while the thought of Isabella’s eternal devotion to her dead Lorenzo is quite the romantic theme for any romanticist or transcendentalist, Isabella stops getting pity at a certain point. If John Keats where around today, he could have made much more money if Isabella threw down her basil pot and started carrying a sword. Uma Thurman could be Isabella, and we could have Kill Bill 3.   

Obsessive Isabella

On my first reading of “Isabella, or, The Pot of Basil”, I found the story to be the regular Romantic-style poem: full of good, evil, strong symbolism, extreme emotions, life and death, ever-sacred nature, and the ever-powerful Love. “Isabella” is a history of the love between Isabella and Lorenzo, and how their love escalades to become a supernatural force in the lovers lives. I interpreted the story of Isabella and Lorenzo’s love to be a parable of how a good obsession slowly became corrupt and thus a bad thing to the lovers. For example, in the beginning of the poem its evident Isabella and Lorenzo strongly love each other. Lines like

“but her full shape would all his seeing fill;

And his continual voice was pleasanter

  To her, than noise of trees or hidden rill;”

In section 2 illustrates that the two lovers thought often of each other. Isabella in particular loves Lorenzo so much that it begins to become a bad thing. Throughout the rest of the poem the two become so strongly attached that lack of seeing each other leads to sickness. Isabella becomes ill without Lorenzo :

“until sweet isabella’s untouched cheek

Fell sick within the rose’s just domain,

Fell thin as a young mother’s…(seeking to cool infants pain)”

But on Lorenzo’s return:

“Love! Thou art leading me from wintry cold,

Lady! Thou leadest me to summer clime,”

…  and the two fall into greater love and Isabella is all better again. However, Love has just gained a negative side for Isabella. Their obsession with the other even turns the attention of Isabella’s older brothers and they kill Lorenzo out of cruelty for their sister. Being the only living lover, Isabella sorrowfully awaits the return of Lorenzo, and over time Isabella “by gradual decay from beauty fell” and becomes pale and sickly. Isabella’s discovery of Lorenzo’s corpse cues the final turn of Love from good to bad; instead of mourning and returning to her life to recover, Isabella returns with her lover’s head in a pot of basil, which she obsesses over day and night and waters with her tears. When even that is taken from her, Isabella’s love obsession finally destroys her: she withers away, to “die a death too lone and incomplete, now they have ta’en away her basil sweet”. The last appearance of Isabella in the poem finds her “asking for her lost basil amorously”. At this point Isabella is insane for want of love and so dies.

            In this way I see the poem “Isabella” as a parable of how a good obsession slowly turned and became a bad thing. Check out the song “Isabella” by Natake. The lyrics to the song are the last two sections of the poem set to haunting music that very well illustrates the emotions of Isabella after her basil pot is taken from her. The video exemplifies a different perspective and feel of the tragedy of Isabella and Lorenzo.

O Melancholy, turn thine eyes away!
O Music, Music, breathe despondingly!
O Echo, Echo, on some other day,
From isles Lethean, sigh to us - O sigh!
Spirits of grief, sing not your «Well-a-way!»
For Isabel, sweet Isabel, will die;
Will die a death too lone and incomplete,
Now they have taen away her Basil sweet.


And so she pined, and so she died forlorn,
Imploring for her Basil to the last.
No heart was there in Florence but did mourn
In pity of her love, so overcast.
And a sad ditty of this story born
From mouth to mouth through all the country passd:
Still is the burthen sung - O cruelty,
To steal my Basil-pot away from me!