Sri Aurobindo
Letters on Poetry and Art
SABCL - Volume 27
Part 2. On His Own and Others’ Poetry
Section 1. On His Poetry and Poetic Method
On Savitri
Comments on Specific Lines and Passages of the Poem [3]
Now as to the double adjectives — well, man alive, your
proposed emendations are an admirable exposition of the art of bringing a line
down the steps till my poor “slow miraculous” above-mind line meant to give or
begin the concrete portrayal of an act of some hidden Godhead finally becomes a
mere metaphor thrown out from its more facile mint by a brilliantly imaginative
poetic intelligence. First of all, you shift my “dimly” out of the way and
transfer it to something to which it does not inwardly belong, make it an
epithet of the gesture or an adverb qualifying its epithet instead of something
that qualifies the atmosphere in which the act of the godhead takes place. That
is a preliminary havoc which destroys what is very important to the action, its
atmosphere. I never intended the gesture to be dim, it is a luminous gesture,
but forcing its way through the black quietude it comes dimly. Then again the
bald phrase “a gesture came” without anything to psychicise it becomes simply
something that “happened”, “came” being a poetic equivalent for “happened”
instead of the expression of the slow coming of the gesture. The words “slow”
and “dimly” assure this sense of motion and this concreteness to the word’s
sense here. Remove one or both whether entirely or elsewhere and you ruin the
vision and change altogether its character. That is at least what happens wholly
in your penultimate version and as for the last
the “came” gets another meaning and one feels that somebody very slowly decided
to let out the gesture from himself and it was quite a miracle that it came out
at all! “Dimly miraculous” means what precisely or what “miraculously dim” — it
was miraculous that it managed to be so dim or there was something vaguely
miraculous about it after all? No doubt they try to mean something else — but
these interpretations lurk in their way and trip them over. The only thing that
can stand is the first version which is no doubt fine poetry, but the trouble is
that it does not give the effect I wanted to give, the effect which is necessary
for the dawn’s inner significance. Moreover what becomes of the slow lingering
rhythm of my line which is absolutely indispensable?
Do not forget that the Savitri is an experiment in mystic poetry, spiritual poetry cast into a symbolic figure. Done on this scale, it is really a new attempt and cannot be hampered by old ideas of technique except when they are assimilable. Least of all by standards proper to a mere intellectual and abstract poetry which makes “reason and taste” the supreme arbiters, aims at a harmonised poetic-intellectual balanced expression of the sense, elegance in language, a sober and subtle use of imaginative decoration, a restrained emotive element etc. The attempt at mystic spiritual poetry of the kind I am at demands above all a spiritual objectivity, an intense psycho-physical concreteness. I do not know what you mean exactly here by “obvious” and “subtle”. According to certain canons epithets should be used sparingly, free use of them is rhetorical, an “obvious” device, a crowding of images is bad taste, there should be a subtlety of art not displayed but severely concealed — summa ars est celare artem. Very good for a certain standard of poetry, not so good or not good at all for others. Shakespeare kicks over these traces at every step, Aeschylus freely and frequently, Milton whenever he chooses. Such lines as
In hideous ruin and combustion down
or
Wilt thou upon the high
and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy’s eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge
(note two double adjectives in three lines in the last) — are not subtle or restrained, or careful to conceal their elements of powerful technique, they show rather a vivid richness or vehemence, forcing language to its utmost power of expression. That has to be done still more in this kind of mystic poetry. I cannot bring out the spiritual objectivity if I have to be miserly about epithets, images, or deny myself the use of all available resources of sound significance.
The double epithets are indispensable here and in the
exact order in which they are arranged by me. You say the rich burdened movement
can be secured by other means, but a rich burdened movement of any kind is not
my primary object, it is desirable only because it is needed to express the
spirit of the action here; and the double epithets are wanted because they are
the best, not only one way of securing it. The “gesture” must be “slow
miraculous” — if it is merely miraculous or merely slow that does not create a
picture of the thing as it is, but of something quite abstract and ordinary or
concrete but ordinary — it is the combination that renders the exact nature of
the mystic movement, with the “dimly came” supporting it, so that “gesture” is
not here a metaphor, but a thing actually done. Equally a pale light or an
enchanted light may be very pretty, but it is only the combination that renders
the luminosity which is that of the hand acting tentatively in the darkness.
That darkness itself is described as a quietude, which gives it a subjective
spiritual character and brings out the thing symbolised, but the double epithet
“inert black” gives it the needed concreteness so that the quietude ceases to be
something abstract and becomes something concrete, objective, but still
spiritually subjective. I might go on, but that is enough. Every word must be
the right word, with the right atmosphere, the right relation to all the other
words, just as every sound in its place and the whole sound together must bring
out the imponderable significance which is
beyond verbal expression. One can’t chop and change about on the principle that
it is sufficient if the same mental sense or part of it is given with some
poetical beauty or power. One can only change if the change brings out more
perfectly the thing behind that is seeking for expression — brings out in full
objectivity and also in the full mystic sense. If I can do that, well, other
considerations have to take a back seat or seek their satisfaction elsewhere.
31 October 1936