Une analyse du roman “Le dernier jour d’un condamné » de Victor Hugo

Le roman de Victor Hugo, Le dernier jour d’un condamné, a été publié en 1829, de façon anonyme. Le livre est un compte d’un prisonnier qu’est condamné à mort. Quand le roman a été publié, la discussion sur la question de l’abolition de la peine de mort était établie en France. La parution du roman de Victor Hugo a suscité des réations positives, qui ont reconnu sa valeur dans la campagne abolitionniste. Mais la plupart des réactions étaient négatives et des nombreux articles publiés condamnaient le contenu et la form du roman. Selon Hamilton Sonja (2001, p. 76,77), un article du “Jornal des Débats, du 26 février 1829 qualifie son roman de ‘odieux’, ‘effroyable’, ‘terrifiant’ et rempli de ‘gratuites horreurs’”. C’est dans ce scenario que Victor Hugo a jugé nécessaire publir un préface en presentant la motivation moral et politique de son roman. Le préface a été publié en 1832. Ce préface adresse la peine de mort et toutes les hideuses conséquences, physiques et psychologiques,  de cette conviction. L’écrivain fait allusion à l’objectif du livre. Il dit:

Ce qu’il [l’auteur] a eu dessein de faire, ce qu’il voudrait que la postérité vit dans son oeuvre, si jamais elle s’occupe de si peu, ce n’est pas la défense spéciale, et toujours facile, et toujours transitoire, de tel ou tel criminel choisi, de tel ou tel accusé d’élection; c’est la plaidoirie générale et permanente pour tous les accusés présents et à venir; c’est le grand point de droit de l’humanité allégué et plaidé à toute voix devant la société, que est la grande cour de cassation (…) (HUGO, 1832, préface)

Alors, nous pouvons comprendre que l’auteur rapproche fortement l’existence même de la peine de mort. Il parle des révolutions qu’ont eu lieu pour essayer d’abolir cette espèce de punition, mas sans succès à cette époque-là. L’auteur croit vraiment que la peine de mort n’est pas la solution pour les problèmes du pays et il croit que les mêmes délinquants qui meurent sur l’échafaud pourraient avoir être bonnes personnes s'ils avions eu des différents conditions de vie et des meilleures opportunités. Encore, dans le préface nous pouvons lire:

(…) pauvres diables, que la faim pousse au vol, et le vol au reste; enfants déshérités d’une société marâtre, que la maison de force prend à douze ans, le bagne à dix-huit, l’échafaud à quarante; infortunés qu’avec une école et un atelier vous auriez pu rendre bons, moraux, utiles, et dont vous ne savez que faire, les versant, comme un fardeau inutile, tantôt dans la rouge fourmilière de Toulon, tantôt dans le muet enclos de Clamart, leur retranchant la vie après leur avoir ôté la liberté (…) (HUGO, 1832, préface)

Pour l’auteur, la société ne doit pas “punir pour se venger”. Il explique que, quand une personne est condamné à mort, il n’y a plus l’opportunité de “améliorer” ou récupérer cette personne. Alors, la peine de mort porte l'idée de la vengeance que, pour l’écrivain n’a pas aucun sens, parce que, il dit, la société “doit corriger pour améliorer”, en offrant l’espérance et les conditions pour transformer la réalité.

Le préface, alors, défend l’abolition de la peine de mort en défendant l'attitude de  l'auteur qui a publié le livre. Il nous montre les nombreux changements que la société à vu et vécu pendant son histoire. Alors, il n’y a pas besoin d’avoir peur du changement. L’écrivain justifie son argumentation en disant: “La civilisation n’est autre chose qu’une série de transformations successives.” Et il finit le préface avec une espèce de prophétie, ou même, l’expression d’une envie ou d'un rêve:

On versera le baume et l’huile où l’on appliquait le fer et le feu. On traitera par la charité ce mal qu’on traitait par la colère. Ce sera simple et sublime. La croix substituée au gibet. Voilà tout. (HUGO, 1832, préface).

Après le préface, nous avons les dialogues d’une pièce de théâtre. Les personnages parlent d’un “nouveau roman”, dont le “titre seul” fait mal aux nerfs de qui l’entend. Il est intéressant de noter que, à la fin des dialogues, deux de ces personnages parlent d’un pourvoi que a été rejeté pour eux. Peut être que ce pourvoir était d’un condamné à mort comme le personnage du roman.

Dans le dialogue, "le gros monsieur” demande au “monsieur maigre”: “que faites-vous de cet homme dont nous avons rejeté le pourvoi, depuis trois semaines?” (p. 37). Comme ils viennent de parler de la peine de mort, nous pouvons croire qu’ils parlent d’un homme qu’a essayé de changer son arrêt: la peine de mort. Le monsieur maigre ne montre pas aucun intérêt ou préoccupation à propos de la question demandé pour son ami. Il dit seulement “Ah! un peu de patience! Je suis congé ici. Laissez-moi respirer. À mon retour. Si cela tarde trop pourtant, j’écrirai à mon substitut…” (p. 37). Ce petit dialogue est une illustration de l’idée présenté au préface, de que les vies qui sont perdues à l’échafaud ne sont pas vu comme des vies précieuses. Comme s'il n’y avait pas besoin de se préoccuper avec elles. L’écrivain voulait montrer que, à cette époque, les personnes ne pensaient pas à la question de la peine de mort comme une question que méritait une réflexion ou un changement.

Après la pièce de théâtre, le condamné commence son rapport. Il commence en racontant son angoisse. L’idée de son arrêt ne sortie pas de sa tête:

Maintenant je suis captif. Mon corps est aux fers dans un cachot, mon esprit est en prison dans une idée. Une horrible, une sanglante, une incapable idée! Je n’ai plus qu’une pensée, qu’une conviction, qu’une certitude: condamné à mort! (HUGO, 2000, p.40).

Dans ce paragraphe, il établit la duplicité de ses impressions et, conséquemment, la duplicité qui va guider son discours. Il décrive sa souffrance physique, la dynamique du space et du temps. Mais, il ne se détient pas seulement sur l’aspect physique ou palpable de son malheur. Il expose la face intouchable de sa disgrâce: la souffrance intérieure que son arrêt lui a imposé. Alors, il faut lire Le dernier jour d’un condamné en prenant ces deux aspects de la description que l’écrivain propose.

Quand le condamné décrive le cachot, les prisons dans lesquelles il est coincé, les chemins qu’il va et les scènes qu’il témoin quand il est transporté, la façon dont les gardes traitent les prisonniers, ses sensations physiques, quand il parle de ces choses, nous avons une vision de la dynamique spatial de l’histoire: les faits que ont lieu dans le space.

La voiture noire me transporta ici, dans ce hideux Bicêtre. Vu de loin, et édifice a quelque majesté. Il se déroule à l’horizon, au front d’une colline, et à distance garde quelque chose de son ancienne splendeur, un air de château de roi. Mais à mesure que vous approchez, le palais devient masure. (…) on dirait que les murs ont une lèpre. Plus de vitres, plus de glaces aux fenêtres; mais de massifs barreaux de fer entre-croisés, auxquels se colle ça et là quelque hâve figure d’un galérien ou d’un fou. (HUGO, 2010, p.48).

Nous pouvons noter, aussi, que le condamné pursuit une ligne temporal sur son comte.  Cette ligne temporal nous transmet l’impression que nous sommes en regardant un film. Il y a une caractéristique immédiate dans le discours du condamné. C’est vrai qu’il raconte des choses qu’ont eu lieu dans le passé, quelques fois. Il se souvient, par exemple, du jour en que il a connu son arrêt, de l’occasion en que les condamnés au travail forçai étaient transportés à la bagne et il décrive souvent les choses qu’arrivent avant du moment qu’il commence à écrire.

Il y avait trois jours que mon procès était entamé; (…) On m’avait ramené sur la paille de mon cachot, et j’étais tombé sur-le-champ dans un sommeil profond, dans un sommeil d’oubli (…) J’étais encore au plus profond de ce profond sommeil lorsqu’on vint me réveiller. (…) Je me levai; mes dents claquaient, mes mains tremblaient (…) Alors il se fit un grand silence. J’étais parvenu à ma place. Au moment où le tumulte cessa dans la foule, il cessa aussi dans mes idées. Je compris tout à coup clairement ce que je n’avais fait qu’entrevoir confusément jusqu’alors, que le moment décisif était venu, et que j’étais là pour entendre ma sentence. (HUGO, 2010, p.41).

C'extrait ici, spécialement la phrase détachée, illustre la simultanéité des deux aspects de la narration: la face physique (ou spatial-temporal) et la face sentimental (ou intérieure) de l’expérience du condamné et, conséquemment,  de son discours.

Il y a, comme nous avons dit, la narration des faits qu’ont arrivé dans le passé. Cependant, le lecteur a l’impression de que le condamné transcrire des choses et des actions qu’il témoin au même temps qu’elles arrivent. En effet, il utilise fréquemment le temps présent pour raconter ses actions et les actions des autres personnes: “Il me semble qu’on monte l’escalier…”. Quand le lecteur lise cette phrase, par exemple, avec laquelle le condamné quitte son histoire, il a l’impression de que les papiers ont étés prises de la main de l’écrivain, presque au moment de sa mort.

Il y a aussi, la face intérieure du discours du condamné. Toutes les choses qu’arrivent autour de lui causent des effets dans sa réalité psychique. Alors, nous avons la description des sensations, des volontés, des peurs, de l’angoisse et des espoirs (même si déçus) du condamné. Comme nous avons vu, il commence son discours en exposant sa souffrance mentale: il est toujours hanté par la conscience de qu’il sera mort, de qu’il est condamné à mort.

Voilà cinq semaines que j’habite avec cette pensée, toujours seul avec elle, toujours glacé de sa présence, toujours courbé sous son poids! (…) Quoi que je fasse, elle est toujours là, cette pensée infernale, comme un spectre de plomb à mes côtés, seule et jalouse, chassant toute distraction, face à face avec moi misérable (…) (HUGO, 2010, p.39).

De cette façon, le condamné associe les faits concrets à les réactions intérieures qu’ils causent dans sa réalité physique et émotionnelle. Par exemple, quand il décrive le départ des forçats il raconte la succession de détails d’une façon objectif, mais quand il arrive à la fin de la narration de l’événement, il ne peut pas être objectif, parce que la scène qu’il regarde lui étonne et lui affecte beaucoup.

J'étais demeuré à la fenêtre, immobile, perclus, paralysé. Mais quand je vis les cinq cordons s’avancer, se ruer vers moi avec des paroles d’une infernale cordialité; quand j’entends le tumultueux fracas de leurs chaînes, de leurs clameurs, de leurs pas, au pied du mur, il me sembla que cette nuée de démons escaladait ma misérable cellule/ je poussai un cri, je me jetai sur la porte d’une violence à la briser (…) Puis il me sembla entendre de plus près encore les effrayantes voix des forçats. Je crus voir leurs têtes hideuses paraître déjà au bord de ma fenêtre, je poussai un second cri d’angoisse, et je tombai évanoui. (HUGO, 2010, p.70,71).

Le dernier jour d’un condamné n’est pas un roman facile de lire pour les personnes sensibles. Il est un livre difficile justement en raison de la duplicité du discours du narrateur: au même temps qu’il raconte les faits qu’il viv, il décrive sa réalité psychique. Il est vraiment difficile de participer des conflits psychiques d’autres personnes. Dans le cas du livre en question, le lecteur entre dans la réalité mentale d’une personne qu’a perdu tous ses espoirs, qui ne peu voire que la certitude de la mort.

Alors, Le dernier jour d’un condamné se montre comme un livre profonde qui demande une posture responsable et mature de ses lecteurs. Cependant, c’est un livre magnifique pour sa capacité de présenter un problème que ne fait pas part de la réalité de la plus part de les pays, mais qui provoque une réflexion sur d’autres questions actuelles que sont toujours vues comme définies, mais qui demandent beaucoup de réflexion et de discussion, de la même façon que la peine de mort à demandé un procès de révision profonde et problématique dans le passé. C’est pour ça que le livre en question se montre magnifique, pour présenter la nécessité et la possibilité du changement.

Références Bibliographiques

HUGO, Victor. Le dernier jour d’un condamné. Paris, Folio: 2015.

HUGO, Victor. Le dernier jour d’un condamné. Quebec, La Bibliothèque électronique du Québec. Collection “À tous les vents”.s/d. Volume 141: version 1.0. Préface (p. 5-48). Disponible en: < http://beq.ebooksgratuits.com/vents/hugo-claude.pdf>

HAMILTON, Sonja. Fantôme littéraire de Hugo : les lendemains du Dernier jour d’un condamné. Paroles gelées. California, v. 19 (2), p. 76-86, 2001. Disponible en: < http://escholarship.org/uc/item/64h4x7sm#page-2>

La parole de la nuit dans "La Rue Cases-Nègres", de Joseph Zobel

  La littérature des Antilles est complemment differente de tout ce que j’ai eu l’opportunité de lire dans ma vie. Je suis particulièrement touchée par des romans (ou récits) et aussi par les oeuvres de critique littéraire. Et je croix que ce que m’a étonné le plus c’est justement la simplicité du discours qui touche profondément la sensibilité du lecteur. Nous sommes entrés dans une réalité historique très complexe et très douleureuse et, en même temps, nous avons connu l’incroyable capacité de l’être humain de se réfaire, de se mettre debout même devant des absurdités de la colonisation et de l’esclavage.

Joseph Zobel, l’auteur de « La Rue Cases-Nègres », est a mon avis, l’un des auteurs que j’ai lu qui a transmis les plus étonnantes images de la plantation, des familles des travailleurs, enfin de la situation générale que les mulâtres vivaient pendant cette période. Il a montré la condition pénible dans laquelle les femmes restaient, toujours absorbées par les soucis des enfants. Il a aussi présenté cette réalité misérable par les yeax d’un enfant et ce point de vue c’est magnifique, parce qu’il contient  quelque chose de cette opacité de dont nous parle Glissant. Alors, pour le gamin, il y a des choses qu’il ne comprend pas en vérité, il y a beaucoup de choses qu’il ne peu pas comprendre. Mais, même quand il ne comprend pas ces choses, il dit qu’il les « sent cruellemente »[1]. C’est ce qu’il dit quand il est mis « en pénitence ». Il a dû entendre de nouveau toute l’histoire de sa grand-mère, de sa mère et de loi-même. Une histoire tragique, remplie de tous les types de violences, humiliations et misères. Il ne comprend pas, mais il sent. 

Glissant, en parlant du « chaos-monde », nous a dit qu’un des problèmes de l’Ocident c’est justement la notion, ou la nécessité de compréhension. Cette avidité pour comprendre des choses (des cultures, des concepts, des personnes...) est l’origine du désir de dominer, d’accaparer et, de cette façon, il croit que la colonisation est un des produits de cet élan de « comprendre » toutes les choses. Glissant nous montre que l’Occident a perdu « la sensibilité à l’opaque »[2] (p. 127). Quand une personne perd la « sensibilité à l’opaque » elle en vient à chercher la transparence et elle n’accept  rien qu’elle ne puisse comprendre et quand elle pense qu’elle a compris elle décide que l’autre (sa culture, son monde) est inférieur et qu’il faut le dominer.

Mais, la question de l’opacité est encore plus profonde. Nous avons vu que la littérature créole est « la parole  de la nuit ». La nuit est la place par excellence de l’opacité. Alors, dans « La Rue Cases Nègres », l’enfant commence son récit en parlant du moment quand sa grand-mère arrive de la plantation. Le garçon aime se moment, quand il est libre pour jouer avec ses amis, et la nuit porte quelque chose de mystérieux qui fascine. Il dit : « ... la nuit est aussi une chose merveilleuse quand on y allume des flammes et qu’on chante » (p.14). La parole de la nuit était remplie des chansons, des histoires qui parlaient d’une origine presque perdue, d’une identité massacrée par l’esclavage et la colonisation. Bertène Juminer, en parlant de la parole de la nuit, dit que

La parole de nuit poursuivra son oeuvre de désaliénation, de réintegration, grâce au noyau familial qui nous fera entrer, dès notre plus tendre enfance, dans une sorte d’université uxorilocale, animée par un corps professoral du troisième âge, ayant pour tout viatique sa mémoire et son expérience de la souffrance.[3] (JUMINER, 1990, p. 139)

Alors, pour Juminer, c’est dans l’expérience de l’oralité du partage de la parole de nuit, que le peuple antillais va trouver sa désaliénation, sa réintégration. Par désaliénation nous pouvons comprendre la fuire de ce processus d’éclairement. C’est la sensibilité et non la comphéhension qui va révéler l’identité perdue. Ralph Ludwig explique que, la rupture entre l’oralité et l’écriture est la rupture entre l’individu et la société, parce que

L’écriture commence son récit  permet certes d’étendre la mémoire d’un peuple à l’infini, mais le rapport entre cette mémoire et la société se perd, personne n’ayant accès à la totalité de la mémoire écrite d’un peuple.[4] (LUDWIG, 1990, p. 16).

            De cette façon, la littérature des auteurs créoles comme Joseph Zobel est tellement importante parce que ce sont des oeuvres écrits, mais qui portent l’oralité dans le contenu, les choix lexicaux, le « rythme de la narration » (p. 18), comme nous le montre Ludwig. En prenant la fonction de griot, ou de conteur, les auteurs antillais transmettent une « histoire paraléle », selon Juminer, une historie « issue de la nuit des temps, mais tout aussi fragile, car tributoire de la seule oralité, alimentée par sa propre récitation »[5] (JUMINER, 1990, p. 148).

            Il est possible d’affirmer que l’Occident, avec ses tentatives d’éclairement et de comprehénsion a échoué dans sa réponse aux questions existencielles auxquelles nous faisons face aujourd’hui. Peut-être que les réponses se trouvent dans l’opacité de la nuit. 

Lorena Brandizzi

16/05/2016

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[1] ZOBEL, Joseph. La rue Cases-Nègres. Paris : Présence Africaine, 1974.

[2] GLISSANT, Édouard. Le chaos-monde, loral et l’écrit. In : Ecrire la ‘parole de nuit’ – La nouvelle littérature antillaise (Paris, Gallimard, coll. ‘Folio Essais’, nº 239, 1990, 192p.), pp. 111-130.

[3] LUDWIG, Ralph. Ecrire la parole de nuit. In : Ecrire la ‘parole de nuit’ – La nouvelle littérature antillaise (Paris, Gallimard, coll. ‘Folio Essais’, nº 239, 1990, 192p.), pp. 13-25.

[4] LUDWIG, Ralph. « Ecrire la parole de nuit », art. cit. p. 16

[5] JUMINER, Bertène. La parole de nuit. In : Ecrire la ‘parole de nuit’ – La nouvelle littérature antillaise (Paris, Gallimard, coll. ‘Folio Essais’, nº 239, 1990, 192p.), pp. 131-150.

Análise do Poema "Redenção", de Antero de Quental

 

Redenção

Vozes do mar, das árvores, do vento!

Quando às vezes, n’um sonho doloroso,

Me embala o vosso canto poderoso,

Eu julgo igual ao meu vosso tormento...

Verbo crepuscular e íntimo alento

Das cousas mudas; salmo misterioso;

Não serás tu, queixume vaporoso,

O suspiro do Mundo e o seu lamento?

Um espírito habita a imensidade:

Uma ânsia cruel de liberdade

Agita e abala as formas fugitivas.

E eu compreendo a vossa língua estranha,

Vozes do mar, da selva, da montanha...

Almas irmãs da minha, almas cativas!

                                    Antero de Quental

            A poesia, por mais subjetiva que se presuma ser, revela contradições que pertencem ao mundo objetivo. Adorno ensina que o teor social da lírica advém daquilo que há nela de espontâneo. A própria materialidade do poema já revela contradições significativas. O poema em análise apresenta-se sob a forma de um soneto, uma forma recorrente, clássica. O conteúdo de Redenção, no entanto, não é clássico: é tipicamente moderno. Os versos decassílabos apresentam rimas consoantes, interpoladas no primeiro e no segundo quarteto. Os dois primeiros versos de cada terceto rimam entre si e há uma rima final entre os dois tercetos. Apesar de toda essa técnica, de todo esse controle que se revela no trabalho de metrificação dos versos (a maioria deles é de versos heróicos, acentuados na 6^a e na 10^a sílabas), o conteúdo do poema revela um espírito irrequieto, atormentado, às portas do descontrole.

            Observa-se o fenômeno da coliteração já na primeira estrofe, onde se percebe a alternância simétrica entre as consoantes |z| e |s|. Esse fenômeno se repete nos três primeiros versos do poema. A aparição reiterada do fonema sonoro, o |z|, cria a impressão do zum zum zum característico do encontro de muitas vozes. Na segunda estrofe percebe-se a aliteração do fonema surdo |s| no início da segunda palavra dos terceiro e quarto versos, passando a impressão sonora típica de um suspiro.

            Na terceira estrofe do poema há coliteração das consoantes |p| e |b| em “espírito” e “habita” e das consoantes |t| e |d| em “habita” e “imensidade”. Percebe-se que há uma espécie de rima interna em que se dá a homofonia vocálica do “i” e do “a”, com diversidade nas consoantes labiais, no primeiro caso, e dentais no segundo. Entretanto essa divergência consonantal é suave, pois trata-se apenas da presença ou ausência de sonoridade. Ao iniciar a terceira estrofe com este efeito, o poeta cria um estranhamento, ou melhor, um despertar no leitor. Esse estranhamento já estava sendo preparado desde o início da segunda estrofe. O leitor, ao iniciar a leitura do poema, é de certa forma embalado pelos fonemas aspirados abundantes na primeira estrofe. Na segunda estrofe, já são introduzidos, em maior número, alguns fonemas oclusivos (|p|, |t|) que começam a quebrar aquele efeito aveludado proposto anteriormente, entretanto, não há um contraste forte, não há coliteração. O primeiro terceto cria um choque ao iniciar-se com o embate dos fonemas surdos e sonoros em um único verso. Com efeito, é nesse terceto que o eu-lírico põe de lado, por alguns instantes, o lamento da natureza, para tratar do seu desejo de liberdade, um desejo que se materializa em gestos abruptos, em atentados de fuga. Os próprios verbos que finalizam o terceto encarnam a natureza abrupta do desejo de liberdade: uma ânsia que agita e abala. Não se trata mais de um canto que embala ou de um queixume que se materializa em forma de suspiro, mas o que o poeta passa a narrar é o ímpeto fugitivo que se percebe sob a ânsia de liberdade que aproxima a natureza e o homem, que torne a alma da natureza irmã da alma humana, assim como o tormento, na primeira estrofe, igualava, por assim dizer, homem e natureza. A última estrofe apresenta de forma reiterada fonemas nasais que dão a impressão de continuidade: depois de passado o baque, o choque dos movimentos que agitam e abalam as formas fugitivas, o eu-lírico pode enfim “compreender”, e essa compreensão é dialógica. Ele pode enfim compreender a irmandade entre a sua alma e a alma das vozes que vem cantando, uma irmandade que se perdeu ao longo do processo civilizatório.

            Toda essa dinâmica interna ao poema deve-se à natureza da própria arte. A arte se apresenta como uma promessa de reencontro do homem com a natureza, pois o trabalho artístico (a poesia, “poier”, o fazer poético) não se submete a fins pragmáticos. O homem, inicialmente, transformava a natureza por meio do trabalho e, dessa forma, se transformava a si mesmo. Ele passou a dominar a natureza por intermédio do trabalho, mas foi também por meio do trabalho que o homem pode se libertar gradativamente, mas não completamente, da dependência das condições naturais do seu ambiente. No entanto, com o advento da modernidade (e principalmente do capitalismo) o trabalho se transformou em um meio de dominação do próprio homem e perdeu o seu caráter libertador: o trabalho moderno é, por assim dizer, um trabalho que escraviza. Entretanto, ainda há um trabalho que liberta: o fazer poético.

            O trabalho é responsável pelo desligamento do homem da natureza, assim como a linguagem: apenas o ser humano é dotado de linguagem (não entraremos na questão da comunicação animal por tratar-se de um fenômeno diverso do da linguagem humana, uma linguagem caracteristicamente verbal). Dessa forma, a linguagem assim como o trabalho é um elemento que faz a mediação entre o homem e a natureza. A “identificação do homem com a natureza” citada por Adorno^[1] (2003, p.70) só é possível mediante a mediação. Retomando a questão da arte como uma promessa de retorno à natureza, percebemos que o fazer poético, o trabalho artístico, confere ao homem o poder de humanizar a natureza. A ruptura entre o homem e a natureza deveu-se justamente a um afastamento entre o humano e o natural. O homem é dotado de humanidade, de uma natureza humana (por mais paradoxal que tal expressão possa parecer dentro do contexto da discussão). A natureza, por sua vez, não é humana, é selvagem, deve ser dominada. Ao humanizar a natureza, o eu-lírico faz o caminho de volta, e esse é o único caminho que está disponível, pois não lhe é possível “desumanizar-se”; para tanto teria de abrir mão da linguagem, o que impossibilitaria o fazer poético. Dessa forma, o poeta (não se trata da Antero de Quental, mas do poeta enquanto ofício, do sujeito poético representando um sujeito coletivo) escolhe trilhar o único caminho que lhe foi granjeado em busca do retorno à natureza, ele opta por buscar a promessa que a arte lhe fez, uma promessa de reconciliação.

            É o que se percebe em Redenção, quando o eu-lírico dota de voz o mar, as árvores e o vento. A humanização da natureza se dá de forma gradativa ao longo do poema. No início a natureza é dotada de voz, um elemento humano, mas que, em última análise, pode ser entendido como um elemento puramente fisiológico. No entanto, essa voz se transmuta em canto, um canto que pode embalar o sono atormentado do eu-lírico. Apesar de ser também uma capacidade humana, a de cantar (os pássaros também cantam, mas a definição do canto é algo humano, pois se não fosse a racionalidade humana o canto dos pássaros seria puro som), pode-se dizer que ainda se trata de uma habilidade fisiológica, física. Porém, o que dizer do fato de a natureza possuir (“vosso”) tormento? A partir desse ponto, a natureza passa a ser dotada de características tipicamente humanas, do campo das emoções e, mais à frente, do campo das volições: ela passa a ter vontade. Na segunda estrofe, a natureza é apresentada como capaz de lamentar-se, de queixar-se de seu tormento por meio de suspiros. A partir da terceira estrofe ela não apenas queixa-se passivamente, ela deseja, ela “anseia” libertar-se e essa ânsia é cruel e violenta, tão violenta que agita e abala “as formas fugitivas”. É a partir dessa constatação, dessa “quase visão”, que o eu-lírico passa a compreender a linguagem do mar, das árvores que habitam as selvas, do vento que preenche a montanha; ele compreende que a identidade entre o homem e a natureza deve-se justamente àquilo que os separou, eis a contradição maior: deve-se à dominação. Eis que agora ambos são cativos, cativos de um processo irreversível, o processo de dominação da natureza pelo homem, do homem pelo homem e, em um futuro próximo (se nos for possível sugerir tão escatológico cenário), uma dominação do homem pela natureza.

            É nesse ponto que se percebe que há uma armadilha na promessa a que nos referimos anteriormente, a promessa da arte de uma reconciliação entre o homem e a natureza. Essa armadilha estava já sugerida na primeira estrofe do poema, quando o eu-lírico delimita o espaço de seu poema: o canto que ouve, ele o ouve em sonho. A reconciliação não é possível, assim como não era possível para Portugal retomar o seu lugar de glória dentro do cenário europeu. Tão irreversível quanto o processo de dominação da natureza pelo homem é o capitalismo. Portugal não poderia reconciliar-se com os seus anos de ouro, não poderia retomar o seu lugar de prestígio na Europa, pois o seu papel dentro da mesma modernidade que trouxe o capitalismo era um papel subalterno, o papel de periferia. O atraso de Portugal era a sua forma de participar da modernidade capitalista, uma modernidade que traz como característica a desintegração, a degradação, por mais que a globalização pareça justamente o contrário. A poesia se mostra como o espaço por excelência para a expressão de todas essas contradições, de toda essa tensão. Por tal motivo é que Adorno sugere que o fundamento de toda lírica individual seja “uma corrente subterrânea coletiva” (2003, p.77)^[2]. Por mais subjetivo que pareça ser o poema, por mais alienado que ele venha a se mostrar, diante de uma leitura que se recuse a ser superficial ou ingênua, ele revelará um conjunto de contradições, toda aquela tensão para a qual não havia espaço no calor dos movimentos sociais.

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^[1] ADORNO, Theodor W. “Palestra sobre lírica e sociedade” in Notas de literatura I. São Paulo: Duas Cidades / Editora 34, 2003.

^[2] Idem

A Review on Anthony Burgess’ "English Literature: A Survey for Students"

                        

        

Anthony Burgess, in his English Literature – a Survey for Students, starts his “journey” talking about science and arts. He explains that the original purpose of scientists, their first task, was, is and will ever be, to be curious and to go far beyond the answers they found: to try to find the “truth about the truth” (p. 2). Truth is a value, as beauty is. While scientists seek truth, artists deal with beauty. These two values represent two different ways of examining the world. The primary task of an artist is to create something beautiful and the purpose of what he creates is just to be beautiful. This sense of beauty must arouse in the observer a static excitement, the excitement of a discovery: the discovery of a pattern, of order in life. The pleasure we experience through a work of art results from the acknowledgement of connections between aspects of life that didn’t existed before, or that we weren’t able to discern. Burgess explains that this is the “highest kind of artistic experience” (p. 5). There’s another kind of artistic pleasure which derives from the artist’s ability to express our own feelings, helping us to separate them from ourselves. In a work of art these feelings are part of a pattern and, because of that sense of unity, those emotions appear as necessary.

            Literature uses words to achieve that task and writers usually make use of connotation to reach our innermost emotions. To Burgess, poetry is “the highest form of literature” (p. 6) and the one which exploit the most the use of connotation. At this point, it appears to be important to highlight some aspects of the author’s discourse. Saying that poetry is the highest form of literature is to establish a certain kind of rank between the different literary genres. Literature consists of different ways of using language, but they all get together to form that unified artistic expression we call Literature. It seems to me that one cannot determine which one of these “uses of words” is the highest one, because this definition would be always stained with personal preferences and, therefore, with subjectivity. But, returning to Burgess’ point, he makes clear that the poet’s use of words is so “free” that he can create different associations and different meanings, sometimes simultaneously, through the use of ambiguity. This is also possible to the writer of prose, but the poet, to Burgess, has a differential: he is able to exploit sound and melody and to convey meaning trough them. Because of this, the author affirms that poetry should be considered the most literary branch of literature, that is, because it exploits to the full the possibilities of words, being those the “raw material” (p. 7) of literature.

            Burgess goes back to the Greeks to remind us of the three kinds of poetry that existed them: lyrical poetry, which relied solely on the potentialities of words; dramatic poetry, which made use other artifices as plot and characters, for example; and epical poetry, by means of which the poet could tell a tale, what demanded the ability to narrate, to construct a story with a beginning, a middle and an end, and to do that, the writer couldn’t rely just on the power of words. Burgess explains that epic has become our novel. Movies and plays replaced dramatic poems. Lyrical poetry remained as the only real expression of poetry, to the author. But the way Burgess talks about poetry passes the idea that this branch of literature is so moribund to the point that he even foresees a future without poetry. For me, that’s not real. There are a great amount of good poets nowadays and a great deal of people who admire their work. It is also possible to say that the work of many poets of the past is being read and admired for centuries. Poetry is alive and it will never die: as long as men exist, poetry will never cease to be produced and “consumed”.

            Burgess tells us that his book will deal with drama, novel and poetry produced in English, inside the British Isles. He starts his journey explaining that English literature is strongly influenced by the geography and the climate of England. He affirms that English literature reflects the awareness of the English society concerning the four seasons of the year. The peculiar climate of England and its geography produced a conservative people, but it didn’t prevented the raising of “rebels and eccentrics” (p. 12) like Shelley, Byron and Blake. In the contrary: precisely because of that conservativeness they became rebels.

            Burgess describes the English as a society which loves justice, but hates laws and, partly because of that, seems to be a mad society. The hatred for laws is reflected on literature when we see that English writers don’t like to follow rules and, sometimes, even dare to create new words to fulfill their purposes. Yet, talking about English literature requires a deep knowledge of the English Language and because of that, Burgess tells us about the “historical phases” of English.

            Old English seems to be a totally different language when compared to Modern English, but they two are “English” itself. Burgess makes it clear that he will provide the reader with the knowledge of what kind of literature was produced in Old English and that his main concern is Modern English literature (despite that warning, he brings to us a very rich material dealing with Old English literature). According to the author, Modern English starts when poetry and prose become more understandable, more recognizable as English as we know it nowadays. However, before that, there was a “phase of transition” (p. 13) in which language starts to move forward the English we speak: this phase was Middle English. Burgess highlights that language changes in two dimensions, time and space, and that’s why different variations of English lived together during Middle English, some totally foreign to us and others already somewhat modern. That variation in space is responsible for the different kinds of English spoken in England, for example, the different dialects. Some of these dialects are established as the more important at a certain moment. In England, the more important dialect is the Standard English, or King’s, or Queen’s English. It’s interesting to notice that the establishment of a standard dialect is something modern. During Middle English all dialects lived together and literature was produced in all of them.

            Anthony Burgess presents us an overview on English literature and starts talking about the Angles and the Saxons, peoples which migrated from the north of Europe escaping from what he calls “barbarous and ruthless hordes” (p. 15), the same who were partly responsible for the falling of the Roman Empire. The Angle and the Saxons settled in Britain and drove the British (people who lived there before) west. They were not Christian; their gods were old Germanic deities. But they were civilized in the sense that they had their laws, government and even literature, which they brought with them to England. Burgess elucidates the fact that this literature was recorded when England was, again, Christianized by Irish evangelists and it was discovered only at the time of Reformation. This literature was passed orally from generation to generation in verse and almost entirely anonymously. Later on, it was written down by monks in the monasteries.

            Beowulf is the oldest poem written in English and it is a warrior’s story. It’s interesting to highlight what Burgess points out about this poem. He says that it’s “in no way a crude and primitive composition” (p. 18). Beowulf was not written in England, it was brought there by the Anglo-Saxons, that is, it was produced by some other barbarous or pagan people. It proves that it is not possible to say, for sure, that these peoples were uncivilized or that they had a poor, undeveloped culture, as we are told by some documentaries and Hollywood movies. The poem is well constructed and rich in its images and language, proving to be a “product of an advanced pagan civilization” (p. 18). Beowulf, and most of the literature written in Old English, was written in head-rhyme and reflected the strength of the language itself. Another interesting fact that the author brings to light is that Old English writers usually had to use uncommon names or to make up new words to be able to create poems using read-rhyme. Burgess also mentions The Seafarer and The Wanderer as other examples of poems in Old English and suggests that the melancholy of these writings could be due to the heaviness of Old English, among other factors.

            The author explains that Northumbrian dialect was used to write poetry in the ninth century but that changed when the Danes invaded England and sacked Northumbria. Wessex was, now, “England’s cultural center” (p. 21). Alfred, the Great, King of Wessex, was responsible for many great deeds, among them, for defeating the Danes in 878 and for improving the state of education in England. He himself was a good prose writer, what he demonstrated through his translations from Latin. Burgess finishes his overview on the Anglo-Saxons explaining that much of the history of that period, especially from the ninth century to 1154, is known through the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, written in Old English prose, but already showing signs of the transition towards Middle English.

            Burgess moves on and tells us about the Normans, a gay people whose language was quite different form that of the Anglo-Saxons, reflecting all the lightness and joy of its speakers. Under the leadership of William, the Conqueror, the Normans took over the country. After a period of adaptation between the culture of the south and that one of the north, brought by the Normans, the literature produced reflected the color of Old French literature, with its light melody and its end-rhyme patterns.

            Something very interesting in Burgess’ text is that he presents us very useful information about the history of the English language. At this point of his “journey” he explains that, at first, the Normans couldn’t speak English and the English weren’t able to speak Norman French. So, they started to use Latin to communicate and that’s why songs and histories in Latin were produced during this period. These histories brought to light English and European mythology. We can find Greek gods in writings produced from this time on and Burgess points out that, around this time, the myth of Arthur was revived and established for ever in English culture. Returning to the issue of language, English prevailed but it came out from this cultural and linguistic clash full of changes, especially vocabulary borrowings from Norman French and, surprisingly, from Latin. And that’s how we can see Old English becoming Middle English.

            Before introducing us Geoffrey Chaucer, Burgess mentions some writers who “pave[d] the way for the first great English poet” (p. 26). What seems important to highlight is that Chaucer’s writings reflected the future, as Burgess explains, with its regular rhyme-patterns, color, wit and French stanza, whilst those other writers from the fourteenth century addressed the past, writing with head-rhyme about religious themes in a formless style. Burgess then reveals some biographical data about Chaucer and explains that, although having become a well educated and cultivated man, he decided to write in the East Midland dialect of English, the one that was actually spoken in London, facing some difficulties because there wasn’t an established literature to consult. So he had to “create English”. In The Canterbury Tales, he uses language to draw real people and to describe a vivid portrait of life. The English he uses is quite modern when compared to the previous poets. The tales are told by different characters who illustrate, with their different discourses and philosophies, the society of that period. They are in a pilgrimage to Canterbury and they meet in the Tabard of Harry Bailey who offers a free soup to the one who would tell the best tale. We don’t know who the “champion” is because Chaucer dies before finishing The Canterbury Tales.

            Chaucer also wrote Troilus and Criseyde and Burgess affirms that this was “the first full length piece of English literature” (p. 34). English changed substantially after Chaucer and pronunciation changes made his works seem to lack rhythm. Because of that Chaucer was regarded as a “crude author”. Burgess mentions some Scottish writers who maintained Chaucer’s ‘style’. Skelton, was a great Scottish writer from the 15^th century who had a different and strange style for his time. He wrote short lines, with simple words and a loose rhyme-pattern. A different kind of poetry mentioned by Burgess is the ballad, which was a kind of oral, anonymous poem characteristic of the border between England and Scotland. The Oxford Book of English contains many ballads from the fifteenth century and even from earlier times.

            Regarding prose, the author explains how a commercial concern made a man contribute to the establishment of a standard dialect: William Caxton (1421-91) was responsible for the first pressed writings in England and he decided to print his writings in prose using the English he spoke. He was interested in selling books, so he wanted to be understood for as many readers as possible. He also printed Sir Thomas Mallory’s Morte d’Arthur in 1484, a work of a “clear and dignified” (p.38) prose. Burgess highlights an intriguing aspect of this literature that emerges in Modern Age: the fact that the first great book printed looks back to the past, to mythology, rather than to the future. This constant mentioning to past, present and future shows that Burgess regards literature as a universal and atemporal phenomenon and this conception enriches his survey and our understanding about English literature.

            The author makes a brief stop to talk about the importance of the Bible to English literature. He shows how it was difficult to translate the Bible during Middle Age, as the Catholic Church prohibited it. The Protestantism arose this idea that the Bible should be read by every man and in their vernacular tongues. After many translations (which frequently resulted in the death of the translators), King James I reunited forty-seven illustrated translators to produce an official translation of the Bible: King James Version (1611). Burgess explains that through all this process, English was influenced by Old Hebrew poetry.

            Turning to English drama, we learn that the first plays weren’t actually plays, but a kind of religious ritual based on mimetic faculty, sympathetic magic, beliefs in gods and fear of starvation. These rituals represented the four seasons and the results people believed the changes between them (represented as fights between seasons) brought to their lives: what happened in dramatic representation must happen in reality, through sympathetic magic. These representations had a plot, action, a climax and a happy ending: it was drama. Burgess reminds us that Greek drama was close to religion also. It aimed to show the moral relation between gods and men. Through tragedies we see men facing destruction as a payment for their sins or for the faults in their character. This dramatized punishment purges the spectator’s feelings, teaching men how to deal with their instincts.

            In Shakespearean drama we can see a huge difference: Shakespearean heroes do have a choice and if they fall, their fall is not a result of a god’s act or a punishment, but an offspring of the hero’s own faults of character. They are able to correct themselves. These differences illustrate the differences between fate and free will: as Burgess highlights, “free will suggests ‘activity’, submitting to fate implies ‘passivity’” (p. 50). But during Middle Age, English drama at least in its beginnings, was closely linked to religion. Drama was used to teach those people who couldn’t read or fully understand the sermons. It’s important to notice that religious drama was introduced to England by the Normans and as the plays become more sophisticated, a process of secularization began. The plays started to be performed in the streets by non-religious actors and these Miracles Plays, as Burgess defines them, came to be regarded as a kind of entertainment. These  anonymous plays were performed during the feast of Corpus Christi, since 1311, organized by trade-guilds.

            Some plays began to explore the comic potentialities of Biblical incidents and, this way, drama separated, even more, from its original religious nature. After these guild dramas, a tradition of professional plays dealing with secular subjects started. The morality plays represented a moral lesson by means of allegory: abstract ideas were personified. Some examples of morality plays mentioned by Burgess are Everyman, The World and the Child and Youth, the later deal with the acquisition of wisdom which reforms vice. These plays were performed by professional companies. This process evolves until drama arrives at Shakespeare, when moral themes will be presented through the representation of personal conflicts and not as “a mere illustration of a religious doctrine” (p. 59) (that’s quite enlightening the way Burgess reveals the peculiarity of Shakespearean drama, comparing the way it treats and represents human nature to the way Greek drama used to represent it). In the end of the fifteenth century, professional companies started to perform the plays in the middle of a feast or an official event, as an interlude, sometimes inside castles as an aristocratic entertainment, not anonymously anymore. But, at the streets, remained a “rather crude morality play” (p. 59). The aristocratic play set the path to Elizabethan drama, a new era in English literature.

            Anthony Burgess presents us a deep view into the history of Old and Middle English literature. He doesn’t give the reader an over detailed survey, and maybe that’s what keep the reading pleasant and enjoyable. The author focuses on meaningful information, providing us with a general view about the issue. As we highlighted before, at certain moments he seems to adopt a radical position concerning poetry “versus” prose, but it enriched his text in the way that it shows his personal opinion about this question without jeopardizing the informational value of his survey. The first chapter of English Literature – A Survey for Students, those which deal with Old and Middle English literature are a valuable source of study for those who are interested in a rich and concise overview on this somewhat mysterious phase of English Literature and the information provided is quite valuable to understand Modern English literature in the sense that it reveals the fountain from which our modern writers have been drinking.

REFERÊNCIA

BURGESS, Anthony. English Literature - A Survey for Students. London: Longman,1974.