1. A Problematic Poem
In honor of
St. Alphonsus Rodriguez
Laybrother of the Society of Jesus
Honour is flashed off exploit, so we say;
And those strokes once that gashed flesh or galled shield
Should tongue that time now, trumpet now that field,
And, on the fighter, forge his glorious day.
On Christ they do and on the martyr may;
But be the war within, the brand we wield
Unseen, the heroic breast not outward-steeled,
Earth bears no hurtle then from fiercest fray.
Yet God (that hews mountain and continent,
Earth, all, out; who, with trickling increment,
Veins violets and tall trees makes more and more)
Could crowd career with conquest while there went
Those years and years by of world without event
That in Majorca Alfonso watched the door.
This might not be among the best poems by Gerard Manley Hopkins, (1844-1889), which is a bit like claiming that the stars in a deep-field view of a 1% sweep of space are less numerous than those from a 2% sweep; true, yet the near-infinity of suns in the former is more than enough to astound.
In Hopkins's art, the medium is indeed the message, but the message of the medium is of vital importance as well. In this article, we will focus on the latter. The poem assumes knowledge of the life of St. Alphonsus Rodriguez, who, being a Jesuit saint, was and presumably still is, an icon of the Jesuit community, but little known among non-Catholics; we will therefore begin with a brief biography of his life.
Alfonso Rodriguez (1532-1617) was the son of a wool merchant. When his father died when Alfonso was 14, the latter took over the business, but was unsuccessful. The future saint married, at the age of 16, a peasant woman and had three children. When he became a widower with two surviving children, he began to be increasingly devout, which in his case included severe austerities. When his third child died, he sought to enter a religious order. He was not accepted by the Jesuits to be trained as a priest, since he had little education. He tried to remedy that deficit by attending a college in Barcelona, but was unsuccessful at that as well. Eventually, he was accepted by the Jesuits as a lay brother. He was soon transferred to the Jesuit college in Majorca, where he served as the doorkeeper, or hall porter, for 46 years. He was apparently frequently beset by fits of melancholy; he also believed from time to time that he was being persecuted by devils. Nevertheless, he was quite effective and beloved as he performed his humble station. It's hard to diagnosis him after four hundred years, but it seems likely that he suffered from a malady which today is called manic depressive disorder. He seems to have had cognitive limitations as well. His canonization, took place in 1887. Hopkins wrote the poem in 1888 to commemorate the saint on the first anniversary of his canonization.
Shortly after completing the poem, Hopkins wrote the following to Robert Bridges : "I ask your opinion of a sonnet written to order on the occasion of the first feast since his canonization proper of St. Alphonsus Rodriguez, a laybrother of our Order, who for 40 years acted as hall-porter to the College of Palma in Majorca; he was, it is believed, much favored by God with heavenly light and much persecuted by evil spirits."
2. A Brief Analysis of The Poem
In honor of
St. Alphonsus Rodriguez
Laybrother of the Society of Jesus
Honour is flashed off exploit, so we say;
And those strokes once that gashed flesh or galled shield
Should tongue that time now, trumpet now that field,
And, on the fighter, forge his glorious day.
On Christ they do and on the martyr may;
But be the war within, the brand we wield
Unseen, the heroic breast not outward-steeled,
Earth bears no hurtle then from fiercest fray.
Yet God (that hews mountain and continent,
Earth, all, out; who, with trickling increment,
Veins violets and tall trees makes more and more)
Could crowd career with conquest while there went
Those years and years by of world without event
That in Majorca Alfonso watched the door.
In this section, I will give a brief analysis of the poem, which is reprinted above for easy reference.
The poem informs us about something that nearly everyone ignores when young, that which a good percentage of old people realize as they age: fame isn't everything. Studies have determined that what makes us happy is the quality of our personal relationships, although there is certainly more to happiness than that.
Hopkins asserts that worldly honor is not everythng; what the world sees in public and what God sees in private are far from identical. The poet tells us that honor is certainly due to those who have done brave deeds of which the public is aware, and gives us military examples of such heroes. But what about those who have fought against battalions of their inner demons, and won--what about these unsung heroes? Hopkins tells us that honor is especially due to Christ and to martyrs, but, regarding a war within, "Earth'--that is the world, more likely than not, doesn't even notice, even though the battle that results in the victory over self might have been even fiercer than a famous general's battle over an enemy. In addition, the unknown victor of inner struggles has to fight without protection, as susceptible to the arrows of outrageous fortune as St. Sebastion was to the arrows of Roman soldiers.
In the sonnet's sextet, Hopkins asserts that God does things both large and small, and that, in His eyes, the humble victor of existential battles, a victory which enables him to lead a so-called ordinary life, deserves as much honor and praise as do military conquerors, whom the world rewards with statues and oratory.
I have discovered that Hopkins often writes, however cryptically, about himself in nearly all of his poems. I contend that Hopkins became a priest to overcome his desire for sensual enjoyment, a tendency of which he was often ashamed, probably due to its more-than-occasional homoerotic content. He fought long and hard in a battle that caused him a good deal of suffering. Another reason why Hopkins might see himself as an unsung combatant is due to the little acknowledgment he received in his lifetime, despite the immense effort he put into his art. (One editor referred to him as a "young aspirant" although he was at the time middle-aged, not far from death, and had been writing poetry--great poetry, in fact--for quite some time.)
Like all poets, Hopkins wanted to see his work published and acknowledged, but this was not to be, due to the striking originality of his art. (I shall illustrate the poet's ambition with one example; there are others. After Hopkins wrote his first great work, The Wreck of the Deutschland, he submitted it to a well-known Jesuit journal, The Month. The editor wanted to publish it at first, but eventually rejected it. One hundred years later, the journal, still in publication, apologized for having made the blunder of failing to recognize a great poem by a great poet).
Hopkins was not to enjoy a life of inner rest, at the fulcrum, as it were, of a seesaw between alternating ambition on one side and alternating humility on the other. It's as if his left brain had placed a copy of Loyola's Spiritual Exercises in his right hand, while his right brain had placed a pen in his left hand, ready to autograph an imagined edition of his famous poems. Having such an unresolved conflict inside oneself does not auger well for a happy future; Hopkins's despair at the end of his life was unfortunate, but not unexpected.
For someone like me, who finds no evidence of a God intervening in human affairs from without, the belief that God acknowledges inner victories that go unnoticed in the world is a metaphor for the spiritual enhancement inner victories provide. But what good are these triumphs if no one is aware of them and if one is not strong enough not to doubt their significance, despite the lack of affirmation from others?
In Rodriguez's case, the porter accepted his humble station and performed it well. He was a beloved doorkeeper indeed; he made everyone feel important, and did the errands which his position required--such as informing his superiors about the arrival of guests--with joy. People were amazed by his good nature, and soon were even requesting advice from this humble, uneducated man. This despite his frequent fits of depression and, perhaps, of paranoia. A victor over demons, if there ever was one.
In Hopkins's case, the results of his struggles were far less consoling. In his last poem, he writes "I wat the one rapture of an inspiration" and disparages his "lagging lines." A judgment which, to put it mildly, posterity doesn't share. He approached the end of his life on a bitter note of self-loathing, Although Hopkins believed to the very end in a God that intervenes in human affairs, yet this God never provided him with a sense of inner victory, a sense he so richly deserved.
One difference between Rodriguez and Hopkins is striking: Rodriquez was surrounded by people his entire life as a doorkeeper, people whom he helped and who admired him. Hopkins, although rather gregarious in his younger years, became increasingly isolated in Ireland, where he was a professor of classics in the last four years of his life. He was, however, a born poet, not a born teacher. He was overworked and frustrated. A sad anecdote of this time is the fact that Hopkins retired at ten p.m. nightly, just as the rest of the faculty gathered to relax and enjoy each other's company. His last years were sad indeed.
In Donizetti's opera, Anna Bolena, the besieged Anna Boleyn is asked what is important in life. "Amore et fama!" ("Love and fame"), she sings. with the highest notes on "fama!" Poor Anna was only half right.
In honor of
St. Alphonsus Rodriguez
Laybrother of the Society of Jesus
Honour is flashed off exploit, so we say;
And those strokes once that gashed flesh or galled shield
Should tongue that time now, trumpet now that field,
And, on the fighter, forge his glorious day.
On Christ they do and on the martyr may;
But be the war within, the brand we wield
Unseen, the heroic breast not outward-steeled,
Earth bears no hurtle then from fiercest fray.
Yet God (that hews mountain and continent,
Earth, all, out; who, with trickling increment,
Veins violets and tall trees makes more and more)
Could crowd career with conquest while there went
Those years and years by of world without event
That in Majorca Alfonso watched the door.
This might not be among the best poems by Gerard Manley Hopkins, (1844-1889), which is a bit like claiming that the stars in a deep-field view of a 1% sweep of space are less numerous than those from a 2% sweep; true, yet the near-infinity of suns in the former is more than enough to astound.
In Hopkins's art, the medium is indeed the message, but the message of the medium is of vital importance as well. In this article, we will focus on the latter. The poem assumes knowledge of the life of St. Alphonsus Rodriguez, who, being a Jesuit saint, was and presumably still is, an icon of the Jesuit community, but little known among non-Catholics; we will therefore begin with a brief biography of his life.
Alfonso Rodriguez (1532-1617) was the son of a wool merchant. When his father died when Alfonso was 14, the latter took over the business, but was unsuccessful. The future saint married, at the age of 16, a peasant woman and had three children. When he became a widower with two surviving children, he began to be increasingly devout, which in his case included severe austerities. When his third child died, he sought to enter a religious order. He was not accepted by the Jesuits to be trained as a priest, since he had little education. He tried to remedy that deficit by attending a college in Barcelona, but was unsuccessful at that as well. Eventually, he was accepted by the Jesuits as a lay brother. He was soon transferred to the Jesuit college in Majorca, where he served as the doorkeeper, or hall porter, for 46 years. He was apparently frequently beset by fits of melancholy; he also believed from time to time that he was being persecuted by devils. Nevertheless, he was quite effective and beloved as he performed his humble station. It's hard to diagnosis him after four hundred years, but it seems likely that he suffered from a malady which today is called manic depressive disorder. He seems to have had cognitive limitations as well. His canonization, took place in 1887. Hopkins wrote the poem in 1888 to commemorate the saint on the first anniversary of his canonization.
Shortly after completing the poem, Hopkins wrote the following to Robert Bridges : "I ask your opinion of a sonnet written to order on the occasion of the first feast since his canonization proper of St. Alphonsus Rodriguez, a laybrother of our Order, who for 40 years acted as hall-porter to the College of Palma in Majorca; he was, it is believed, much favored by God with heavenly light and much persecuted by evil spirits."
2. A Brief Analysis of The Poem
In honor of
St. Alphonsus Rodriguez
Laybrother of the Society of Jesus
Honour is flashed off exploit, so we say;
And those strokes once that gashed flesh or galled shield
Should tongue that time now, trumpet now that field,
And, on the fighter, forge his glorious day.
On Christ they do and on the martyr may;
But be the war within, the brand we wield
Unseen, the heroic breast not outward-steeled,
Earth bears no hurtle then from fiercest fray.
Yet God (that hews mountain and continent,
Earth, all, out; who, with trickling increment,
Veins violets and tall trees makes more and more)
Could crowd career with conquest while there went
Those years and years by of world without event
That in Majorca Alfonso watched the door.
In this section, I will give a brief analysis of the poem, which is reprinted above for easy reference.
The poem informs us about something that nearly everyone ignores when young, that which a good percentage of old people realize as they age: fame isn't everything. Studies have determined that what makes us happy is the quality of our personal relationships, although there is certainly more to happiness than that.
Hopkins asserts that worldly honor is not everythng; what the world sees in public and what God sees in private are far from identical. The poet tells us that honor is certainly due to those who have done brave deeds of which the public is aware, and gives us military examples of such heroes. But what about those who have fought against battalions of their inner demons, and won--what about these unsung heroes? Hopkins tells us that honor is especially due to Christ and to martyrs, but, regarding a war within, "Earth'--that is the world, more likely than not, doesn't even notice, even though the battle that results in the victory over self might have been even fiercer than a famous general's battle over an enemy. In addition, the unknown victor of inner struggles has to fight without protection, as susceptible to the arrows of outrageous fortune as St. Sebastion was to the arrows of Roman soldiers.
In the sonnet's sextet, Hopkins asserts that God does things both large and small, and that, in His eyes, the humble victor of existential battles, a victory which enables him to lead a so-called ordinary life, deserves as much honor and praise as do military conquerors, whom the world rewards with statues and oratory.
I have discovered that Hopkins often writes, however cryptically, about himself in nearly all of his poems. I contend that Hopkins became a priest to overcome his desire for sensual enjoyment, a tendency of which he was often ashamed, probably due to its more-than-occasional homoerotic content. He fought long and hard in a battle that caused him a good deal of suffering. Another reason why Hopkins might see himself as an unsung combatant is due to the little acknowledgment he received in his lifetime, despite the immense effort he put into his art. (One editor referred to him as a "young aspirant" although he was at the time middle-aged, not far from death, and had been writing poetry--great poetry, in fact--for quite some time.)
Like all poets, Hopkins wanted to see his work published and acknowledged, but this was not to be, due to the striking originality of his art. (I shall illustrate the poet's ambition with one example; there are others. After Hopkins wrote his first great work, The Wreck of the Deutschland, he submitted it to a well-known Jesuit journal, The Month. The editor wanted to publish it at first, but eventually rejected it. One hundred years later, the journal, still in publication, apologized for having made the blunder of failing to recognize a great poem by a great poet).
Hopkins was not to enjoy a life of inner rest, at the fulcrum, as it were, of a seesaw between alternating ambition on one side and alternating humility on the other. It's as if his left brain had placed a copy of Loyola's Spiritual Exercises in his right hand, while his right brain had placed a pen in his left hand, ready to autograph an imagined edition of his famous poems. Having such an unresolved conflict inside oneself does not auger well for a happy future; Hopkins's despair at the end of his life was unfortunate, but not unexpected.
For someone like me, who finds no evidence of a God intervening in human affairs from without, the belief that God acknowledges inner victories that go unnoticed in the world is a metaphor for the spiritual enhancement inner victories provide. But what good are these triumphs if no one is aware of them and if one is not strong enough not to doubt their significance, despite the lack of affirmation from others?
In Rodriguez's case, the porter accepted his humble station and performed it well. He was a beloved doorkeeper indeed; he made everyone feel important, and did the errands which his position required--such as informing his superiors about the arrival of guests--with joy. People were amazed by his good nature, and soon were even requesting advice from this humble, uneducated man. This despite his frequent fits of depression and, perhaps, of paranoia. A victor over demons, if there ever was one.
In Hopkins's case, the results of his struggles were far less consoling. In his last poem, he writes "I wat the one rapture of an inspiration" and disparages his "lagging lines." A judgment which, to put it mildly, posterity doesn't share. He approached the end of his life on a bitter note of self-loathing, Although Hopkins believed to the very end in a God that intervenes in human affairs, yet this God never provided him with a sense of inner victory, a sense he so richly deserved.
One difference between Rodriguez and Hopkins is striking: Rodriquez was surrounded by people his entire life as a doorkeeper, people whom he helped and who admired him. Hopkins, although rather gregarious in his younger years, became increasingly isolated in Ireland, where he was a professor of classics in the last four years of his life. He was, however, a born poet, not a born teacher. He was overworked and frustrated. A sad anecdote of this time is the fact that Hopkins retired at ten p.m. nightly, just as the rest of the faculty gathered to relax and enjoy each other's company. His last years were sad indeed.
In Donizetti's opera, Anna Bolena, the besieged Anna Boleyn is asked what is important in life. "Amore et fama!" ("Love and fame"), she sings. with the highest notes on "fama!" Poor Anna was only half right.
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