Poems of the Week: Satire
So far we have considered mostly lyric forms, particularly the sonnet, but verse is used for many purposes--narrative, didactic, and satiric. Perhaps in this political season we should consider social and political satire, both in the broadest and in its stricter sense.
Even used in the broadest sense, satire is not comic parody or even mere raillery. Satire has a serious purpose--to hold up to ridicule the foibles and follies of the time and to cause the reader to use the satire as a mirror in which to glimpse his own foolishness. I am not, at least at this time, to bore you by tracing the history of Satire back to Juvenal, Horace, Lucilius, and their Greek inspirations (though the Romans did quite rightly claim the genre as wholly their own). Let us instead go to a satiric poem that is not really a satire in the strict sense.
This is Lady Psyche's song, from Gilbert's Princess Ida, in which she expounds both Darwinism and feminism. When E.C. Kopff and I once attended a performance in Boulder, the program advised us that the work was only being performed as an historical artifact because they were committed to producing all the works of Gilbert and Sullivan. Under no circumstances was anyone to find it funny. I fear we both laughed so hard we almost got ejected.
A Lady fair, of lineage high,
Was loved by an Ape, in the days gone by.
The Maid was radiant as the sun,
The Ape was a most unsightly one –
So it would not do –
His scheme fell through,
For the Maid, when his love took formal shape,
Expressed such terror
At his monstrous error,
That he stammered an apology and made his ’scape,
The picture of a disconcerted Ape.
With a view to rise in the social scale,
He shaved his bristles and he docked his tail,
He grew mustachios, and he took his tub,
And he paid a guinea to a toilet club –
But it would not do,
The scheme fell through –
For the Maid was Beauty’s fairest Queen,
With golden tresses,
Like a real princess’s,
While the Ape, despite his razor keen,
Was the apiest Ape that ever was seen!
He bought white ties, and he bought dress suits,
He crammed his feet into bright tight boots –
And to start in life on a brand-new plan,
He christened himself Darwinian Man!
But it would not do,
The scheme fell through –
For the Maiden fair, whom the monkey craved,
Was a radiant Being,
With brain far-seeing –
While Darwinian Man, though well-behaved,2
At best is only a monkey shaved!
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Satire I suspect stems from our human proclivity--reflective of both the divine and conversely reflective as well of human deficiency--toward being desirous of seeing or holding in mind, One thing. However, instead of seeing for example two sides, One coin; rather in our generally deficient investigation of the coin, we tend to focus on one side or the other, heads -or- tails i.e. half of the picture as if the whole or that One thing we prefer to see. This leaves knowledge of the whole or the two sides, One coin-unaffected. Though our generally half-witted perception of the whole or the 'one' thing keeps us perennially, if not perpetually in a state of imbalance, and off balance-ripe for any and all satire. So, will this general human condition ever improve? Well if you're a satirist, let's hope not. But for the sake of argument lets say it did [vaunted progress] and we all were generally walking around in a state of approximate balance. Ah, [remember-?-] the divine satirist(s) in the sky, mischievously or mysteriously desirous of hastening our return, elevation or elimination would prod or nudge us, drop a wee bit of their subtlely potent pixie dust and off balance for a while once again, we'd be assisting satirists in the making of their living. We are always the monkey in the middle if we're wise enough to know it, and select as preference said location. Otherwise we're one of those monkies way out on a limb like the well groomed simian in the above poem who apparently sees his one thing. But please restrain your mirth as the politically correct today not only see but sadly also enforce Their one thing. Fortunately though [shhh!] it does at least leave knowledge unaffected.
Basic question: what is the difference between satire and irony? I remember hearing that Waugh said he was not a satirist, and that true satire, today, was impossible. I believe he was referring to the fact that today people are so inclined to believe the most absurd things that they cannot see the point of the satire at all (i.e. they cannot see their own foolishness in the mirror). I heard that Waugh considered himself, instead, an ironic writer. Having recently finished "Black Mischief" I confess I have no idea why it would be considered ironic and not satirical.
With regard to Gilbert & Sullivan - I am completely and entirely unfamiliar with their work. Is there any recommendation on where to start? Any good versions available on home video (I don't get out much - so hard to find a good baby-sitter)? To reveal how poor my knowledge is, I didn't even know they were satirists until a recent comment on Dr. Fleming's Daily Mail Blog.
Mr. Cornell I don't know the answer to your question invented by Waugh in putting the hat of critic on with regard to his own work, if indeed it is in fact a real question. Just because we/he can ask a question doesn't necessarily mean it's real. So I too await Dr. Fleming's considered reply. I would like to suggest a difference between paradox and irony. Paradox being an apparent contradiction which is eternally true and thus knowledge; while irony being part and parcel of a knowably ephemeral situation or context usually due to apparent deficiency in human perception is thus confined to the level of image, not knowledge except in being knowledgeable about this difference. Also in rereading my post above re: satire the plural of monkey is 'monkeys' and not 'monkies' as I had misspelled it. Sorry if I misled any readers who subsequently went on to spell it incorrectly; I realize being part simian-monkey see, monkey do.
I've found & listened to the song on YouTube. Is it normally the case that the words are written first & then the music composed? I think this is how many operas are put together, or at least the ones with which I'm familiar. It just seems odd to me - I know I'm not savvy on all the mechanics of poetry, but song lyrics seem to play by their own rules.
For example, as written above it makes a nice poem, but when sung the 4th line of each stanza is repeated, which obviously doesn't work when just reading it. And, on the last line, when sung, it comes across as "At best is only a Mooonkey shaved." Naturally, I did not read it that way on my own.
It works both ways; I'm not complaining. Just curious about how it all comes together. My brain accepts the fact that lyrics are poetry, but I'm still working to comprehend it. I mean, I make up fake lyrics to songs all the time (when an opera song is stuck in my head and I don't know the words and don't speak Italian, I have no other recouse but to make up the words - humming an aria just isn't satisfying). I know the words I use have to follow the rhythm/meter/rhyme of the song, but it seems that, like above, when you look at the words alone they can have a somewhat different meter/rhythm.
Does the poet get some idea of the meter from the composer first? Does the composer key off the rhythm in the poetry to write the music?
As far as the actual satire goes - it seems like I know many women, especially in politics today, who could sing the song with a straight face. Also, it brought to mind Turandot - although Puccini's not-so-funny princess goes the step beyond simply condescending to chopping off heads. Actually, it seems like I know many women, . . . er, I'd better just stop there.
I think we are getting distracted.
First off, words like satire and irony have actual meanings that are quite distinct from the slovenly misuse to which they are subjected by NPR announcers or college English teachers. Irony is not a genre but a manner of speaking about things, usually by saying one thing and meaning another, often with a self-deprecating tone. By the way, things are not ironic, only utterances. Thus it is ridiculous to say such things as, "It is ironic that the President chose December 7 as the date on which to praise the Japanese." What would be ironic is to praise the president for his eloquence and ability to think on his feet.
As I said in my opening remarks, satire is used both in a broad and a narrow sense, though to understand the broad it is probably necessary to have some grasp of the narrow. To subject a person or set of mores to satire is to describe and analyze in a way that brings both laughter and often outrage.
True satire is a specific literary form developed by Roman writers. A good introduction is Dryden's essay on satire written, as I recall, to introduce his translations of Roman satirists. The first master of the genre is said to be Quintilius, though of his work we have only fragments. The Roman satirists who have survived are, principally, Horace, Persius, and Juvenal. Horace is distinguished for his light and self-deprecating humor, Juvenal for his majestic tone and savage indignation.
Satires can be quite dramatic, employing both narrative and dialogue. These elements contribute to their enduring success. On the other hand, the humor is often so topical that it requires footnotes. Pope brilliantly imitated Horace's satires and updated all the references, but Pope's references are now as obscure as Horace's.
Since I do not want to get bogged down in detailed analysis, I'm going to post a link to Dryden's translation of a Juvenal satire and then a brilliant paraphrase by Dr.Johnson.
In the meantime, let me make a small point on songs. There is no rule. Sometimes the same man writes words and lyrics (Thomas Campion), sometimes lyrics are set to music are arranged by a composer who never met the writer (e.g. Beethoven and Burns), sometimes we don't know, as in Robert Johnson's setting of Shakespeare. In the case of Gilbert and Sullivan, we have pretty detailed knowledge. Gilbert wrote the text and gave it to Sullivan who composed music. They often conferred about problems and even after a first performance, they continued tinkering in rehearsals to get it right. The protraction of the first syllable of "monkey" is not significant, just a means of putting the song over.
One of the more interesting aspects of this question has to do with ambiguous rhythmic patterns. Take the song from the Tempest
Where the bee sucks, there suck I
On a cowslip's bell I lie
There I couch when owls do cry
On a bat's back I do fly
After summer merrily.
One could read this as purely trochaic, but then one might still be bothered by the fact that lines two and four begin with a weak/unstressed syllable. Hearing the Johnson melody, you find this is strongly emphasized as a structural element in the song. Did WS intend it? I think he did, since he was intimately involved in producing the plays.
Dr. Fleming,
It saddens me that the press of events has kept me occupied thinking of and writing about other things, when you have been presenting such a feast of poetry, and gifting us with your illuminating remarks thereon. I would so much have liked to contemplate the Petrarch sonnet. But I'm in there, reading what I can, and I thank you.