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What makes the poem a dramatic monologue, like “Nero” and to some extent
The Hashish-Eater, is that consists of a speech, spoken by the “I” of the poem. This
“I” is, of course, other than the poet. It is Satan who speaks, as evidenced through the title and the poem itself. The poem is evidence that the speaker is unrepentant, according to the poem’s title, Satan himself is unrepentant; so therefore the
speaker must be Satan. In giving Satan a voice, Smith allows an element of Judaeo-Christian myth a voice, with which to express concerns that reflect in part Satan’s own, and in part Smith’s. Smith thus speaks about his own concern, but at a remove, through a mouthpiece, so that his concerns become complex, and indistin-
guishable from the speaker’s. This is not to say that the expression and conclusions derived are essentially Smith’s; rather, it is an expression about concerns of Smith’s as evidenced through another. This enables us to look further, and later, at the speech itself, but first, after some conclusions about the poem as such, it is important to look at the nature and character of Satan, and how Smith allows it to develop through the poem.
By using blank verse as the metrical basis for the poem, Smith utilises a form
traditionally associated both with verse dramas and with seriousness. A notable example of this latter aspect is Milton’s Paradise Lost: again, Satan is a principal
134 THE FREEDOM OF FANTASTIC THINGS
figure in that work and the focus of several of its early books, but at greater length and level of complexity than is capable in such a short poem as Smith has written here. The first aspect, the use of blank verse in drama, highlights the dramatic aspect of the poem. It reminds us, subtly, that it is not Smith speaking, but a character, a role or mask as it were. Thus, in being a role, and being in turn Smith’s means of speaking about certain concerns, it remains nonetheless a way for Smith to dress the character’s concerns, and this duality becomes important later, when the nature and character of Satan is discussed. Overall, this duality sets up a pattern of expectation about the poem, mirrored further in the language and nature of the speech. In this manner, then, is complexity created and maintained, and the central message of the poem conveyed, especially through the nature and character of Satan.
A question must be asked: who is Satan? Left unresolved in the poem is the ex-
act nature of Satan, in relation to God and others of his ilk. He was an archangel, that is certain: the poem starts, after all, with the phrase “Lost from those archangelic thrones” (1). Yet of the angels and fellow demons nothing is mentioned. They are irrelevant, since the poem exists to create and maintain a singular opposition, of Satan and God as two polarities, of evil cast down, and goodness triumphant. Satan is, furthermore, subordinate to God. He has “will not less / Than His, but lesser
strength” (43–44), and thus what unites the two is both will and their united nature (see line 50, where he says “I, that am of essence one with His”), whereas what separates them is might. Satan is like God, in essential nature, yet “less in measure” (51).
Good and evil, as concepts, are alien to the poem. It is about power, and the power relations between the two central figures. That is what matters, fundamentally, and not moral questions. In a sense, then, this unconcern with morality makes Satan an almost Nietzschean figure, defining his role through power relations, and not
through an irrelevant and meaningless set of moralistic terms.
Yet Satan is marked by two key features. He remains unrepentant, and he re-
mains proud. Traditionally, Satan’s sin was one of pride: he set out to exalt himself above God. This manifests itself throughout the poem. He is, simply, both “majestic” and “beautiful” (6), he has an “unsubmissive brow” (45), and, finally, he is simply “Confirmed in pride” (76). We know also that Satan is unrepentant, and not just from the title and general tenor of the poem. He states explicitly in line 7 that he is “unregretful.” Yet this knowledge of his unrepetancy is largely derived from the tone, the way he speaks. In this way, then, he is content to wait, not directly rising against God, but biding his time for
That hour of consummation and of doom,
Of justice, and rebellion justified. (95–96)
In this, then, he becomes, because he is both speaker and subject, the point of reference whereby we may both assess and approach God. His speech centers
upon his position, here where “The shadows of impalpable blank deeps” (13)
Satan Speaks: “A Reading of Satan Unrepentant”
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weigh upon him, and where “Matter [is] tortured into life” (65), and his focus upon God is on his position over him. We also gain a measure of Satan’s emotions and perception of God through his language. God is, essentially, a tyrant (as seen in the use of “tyranny” in lines 16, 41 and 70, and “injustice” in line 42; line 49, also, indirectly calls him a tyrant) and despot (62), he has whims, to “rear and mar” (31), his will is “ravenous and insatiable” (34), and he is, finally, unjust, as evidenced in the final line (96). This is not the just, loving God of Christianity, but one hateful, specifically created, as it were, to be hated. As Satan hates God, so he attempts to elicit our sympathies, and tries to persuade us too to hate this figure. This use of language is interesting and leads into further considerations of language, and how the poem utilises it to help create itself.
Language is important to consider in relation to “Satan Unrepentant.” As the
language encodes and creates the context for the poem’s meaning, it embodies
facts and assumptions about the poem and the poem’s speaker. As the speaker is a fictional character, Satan, it thereby creates and attempts to validate the worldview of that fictional character. Thus, we find that the language reveals aspects of that character’s relations with the world, and with the world’s architect, God. Therefore, it is important to note how the world and God are referred to, and how these reflect in turn upon the nature and worldview of the speaker.
With regard to the world, the speaker creates a hierarchy, as it were, of exis-
tences. At one end is heaven, which is starred by the “archangelic thrones” (1).
This is the realm of the angels, and, necessarily, of God. Below this are the deeps, the darkness in which Satan is imprisoned. Between the two are the heavens, the realm of the stars. This is evinced through lines 16–17, where “star after star /
Spins endless orbits betwixt [Satan] and heaven.” In many ways, the poem is concerned with the heavens, the region between Satan and God. This is because it simultaneously remains God’s sphere, yet is made of matter. This we can clearly see where Satan says
For fain am I to hush the anguished cries
Of Substance, broken on the racks of change,
Of Matter tortured into life;
(63–65)
What is important to note here is the language employed. Substance is “bro-
ken on the racks,” it is referred to as the subject of torture, a reading reinforced by the reference to matter as tortured. Thus, in describing matter as such, the speaker employs emotive and resonant images that convey much not only about matter,
but God, who is thereby assumed to be the torturer, given the earlier identification through “God’s throne is reared of change” (37). Thus, in creating this hierarchy, the speaker, Satan, refers to each with a language at once emotive and persuasive.
The speaker creates a worldview, but one dominated by connotations, not strict
denotations, despite the oftentimes precise vocabulary.
136 THE FREEDOM OF FANTASTIC THINGS
This domination is conveyed through a number of means. There is the use of
emotion, with implied value judgements. The use of “broken on the racks” and
“tortured,” as noted earlier, is a clear indication of this. Another is the use of more general connotations. The phrase in line 12 of “ringing moons fo
r cymbals dinned afar” uses the onomatopoeic qualities of the word to help convey an image: though
“ringing” has a resonance of clarity of sound, this is compounded by the use of
“dinned,” conveying a sense of harshness and unregulated strength to create the noise. This is consonant with the overall image of God’s might, and his tyranny; he is not gentle, but hateful and harsh, and the use of “dinned” helps convey this impression concisely and with great strength. Other aspects are also utilised. Alliteration, used sparingly, has effect: “discords of the dark” (22) is a telling image, as is
“roar of ruin” in the next line. They help convey the difference between the realm of God, and that of Satan. This, the place of Satan’s exile, is marked by discord and ruin, and these qualities are highlighted and emphasised through alliterative techniques that combine with the connotative aspects of the actual words used. In
these and other ways, the poem seeks to convey an emotional state, an emotional way of looking at the chief situation. God may be dominant, but given time he may fall, and until then Satan waits, ever observant.
What the use of speech does, then, is convey a sense of the world, and the re-
lations of those aspects. The archangelic heaven is remote and of little inherent interest. What is more important is the sphere of matter, in which God is active, which “His tyranny constrains” (26). Though Satan is confined to the deeps, to the darkness and ruin, he is nonetheless ever looking outwards, toward the universe he hopes and seeks to free from change. The relationship between God and Satan is
also dwelt upon; it is integral to the poem, and crucial to a close reading of Satan’s character. Thus the importance of the phrase “with the hatred born of fear” (57): it reveals much about the relationship between the two actors, and reveals much
more about the nature of God. God hates because He fears; God is, therefore, fallible, weak, despite His overwhelming strength. And it is a sense of this weakness that helps maintain the pride and resistance of Satan. In this manner, through the judicious and telling use of language, much is conveyed. The poem establishes a basic cosmology, God and Satan, and it delineates the essentials of the relationships of the actors within that cosmology. In this way, through language, we can begin to understand and appreciate the nature of Satan, and understand and appreciate the poem itself.
“Satan Unrepentant” creates a figure of Satan that is at the same time hero and protagonist of the poem. Through the use of language, a hierarchy is established, as it were, with God at the same time greater and more evil in nature than Satan.
Thus the importance of such emotively strong terms as “tyrant,” “tyranny,” and
“injustice” within the poem in relation to God. The poem, given that it is spoken by Satan, and hence has him as the implied standard for comparison, also seeks
indirectly to lead the reader toward a sympathy with the speaker. By concentrating
Satan Speaks: “A Reading of Satan Unrepentant”
137
upon the evil nature of God, the speaker is implied to be better, almost good in comparison. The poem also conveys aspects of the cause of Satan’s plight, in the pride and unrepentant nature of the speaker. Thus the speaker’s character is explored and created, particularly through the language used and its emotive nature.
Overall, then, what this poem seeks to do is create a picture of Satan as a living, uncaricatured being. It is irrelevant whether he is good or evil, as it is irrelevant whether the poet has sympathy or a sense of identification with his figure. What is relevant is the degree to which the poem, as a dramatic monologue, expresses the nature and worldview of the character, and not of Clark Ashton Smith. This Smith has achieved, with conciseness and economy, in less than a hundred lines. In doing so, it reminds us that the principal source of our understanding should be the
poem and what it says, not the poet nor any other external source; it is the poem itself, and the reader’s competency in reading it, that determines its meaning, and it is a measure of the poet’s skill that the meaning thus conveyed is effectively, and beautifully, done. The principal aim of this essay was to produce such a piece that looked solely at the text analysed, and used that as the focus of a close (as is possible) reading, given what was wanted to be said. Thus all conclusions are drawn
from the text as read and not from reference or direct comparison to other texts.
To do so would destroy the unity of focus achieved.
Lands Forgotten or Unfound:
The Prose Poetry of Clark Ashton Smith
S. T. Joshi
The prose poem, as its name indicates, is a hybrid form that draws equally upon the distinctive qualities of verse and the distinctive qualities of prose. Because it has been practiced relatively rarely in European literature, it has proven difficult to define. William Dean Howells, in the brief essay, “The Prose Poem,” prefacing Stuart Merrill’s Pastels in Prose (1890), noted that the prose poem is “a peculiarly modern invention” but went on to say: “I do not mean that poetical prose has not always been written; it has not been so much written as prosaic poetry; but our language abounds in noble passages of it, and it will always be written as often as a lift of profound feeling gives thinking wings” (Merrill v). Howells observes that the entire Bible, especially the books of Job and Ecclesiastes, could be considered a prose poem, and states:
In fact, every strain of eloquence is a strain of poetry; every impassioned plea or oration is a poem in prose. At times, at all times, deep emotion takes on
movement and cadence, and the curious have often selected rhythmical passages
from prose authors, and given them the typographical form of poetry, to show
how men might be poets without knowing it. (Merrill v–vi)
Canonically, the prose poem as a concrete genre dates to Aloysius Bertrand’s
Gaspard de la nuit (1842), and it is fitting that Clark Ashton Smith’s leading interpreter, Donald Sidney-Fryer, has recently produced a splendid new translation of this esoteric work. Charles Baudelaire claimed direct influence from Bertrand when he wrote his Petits poèmes en prose, first published in magazines in 1861–62 and appearing posthumously in book form in 1869. That first word of Baudelaire’s title (“small,” here meaning “short”) may be the most significant; for, apparently in consonance with his great idol Edgar Allan Poe’s strictures regarding the impossibility of a long poem to create the desired “unity of effect,” Baudelaire regarded brevity as a critical element in the prose poem: its heightened language and compressed expression were evidently meant to duplicate the effect of a short lyric poem. As Francis Scarfe points out, Bertrand consciously modelled his prose poems, even in form, upon poetry:
Unlike Baudelaire’s poems or anyone else’s, Bertrand’s have their basis in conventional prosody. He equated the paragraph to the poetic strophe or stanza. He instructed his printer to arrange his text in such a way that each prose-poem was clearly divided into four, five, six or seven “alinéas ou couplets” (indentations or versi-cles) with wide spaces between them. (Baudelaire 14)
Lands Forgotten or Unfound
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I am not certain that Smith was acquainted with Bertrand’s work (although
one might infer it from his later invention of Gaspard du Nord, protagonist of
“The Colossus of Ylourgne”); but he was definitely familiar with Baudelaire’s prose poems, as translated by Arthur Symons (1905), as well as the selections from
Baudelaire’s (and many other French writers’) prose poems found in Merrill’s scin-tillating Pastels in Prose. Smith refers to both volumes in a letter of 8 April 1918 ( SU
158), but it seems evident that he had absorbed them well before this date. Smith also refers glancingly to Oscar Wilde’s prose poems ( SU 132), but neither these nor, for that matter, Baudelaire’s, can be said to have exercised any significant influence upon Smith’s own work.
The first of Smith’s prose poem
s, “The Demon, the Angel, and Beauty,” dates
to 1913, and is manifestly an outgrowth of his poetry. Indeed, Smith had, with characteristic modesty, said of his splendid poem “Nero” (written in May 1912) that
“four-fifths of it is prose” ( SU 47), suggesting that his prose poems were in some sense extensions of the free-verse odes he was writing at this time. George Sterling, reading an unidentified prose poem sent to him by Smith in November 1913, correctly noted: “It is prose in form only” ( SU 99). As early as 1916 Smith was envisioning the assembling of “a volume of fantastic prose”—but by this he does not mean the lengthy tales that would later bring him celebrity in the pulp magazines, but rather a succession of shorter works: “fables, allegories, and prose-poems” ( SU
139), a comment that leads one to conclude that Smith had, like Baudelaire, identified brevity as a central component of the prose poem. The occasion to publish his prose poems in book form did not arise until 1922, when he issued Ebony and Crystal, with its significant subtitle “Poems in Verse and Prose.” After this, it would be many years before many more of Smith’s prose poems appeared in his books: a few were included, almost as afterthoughts, in Out of Space and Time (1942) and The Abominations of Yondo (1960), but Smith chose to include none in his Selected Poems, assembled in 1944–49 and published posthumously in 1971. It required Sidney-Fryer’s posthumous assemblage of Poems in Prose (1965) for (nearly) all of Smith’s prose poems to be collected. At a later date, some unpublished prose poems were discovered in Smith’s papers, leading Marc and Susan Michaud to produce a new
volume, Nostalgia of the Unknown (1988), although whether even this constitutes a complete collection of Smith’s prose poems has yet to be determined. Indeed, Sidney-Fryer himself included “Sadastor” in Poems in Prose but then categorised it as a short story in his 1978 bibliography.