PERSONA AND TONE
PERSONA
ORIGIN OF THE TERM
The
term derives
from the Latin word persōna, meaning “mask.” It reached Literature from the
Analytical Psychology of Carl Gustav Jung (the Swiss psychoanalyst and founder of Analytical
Psychology). Jung uses ‘persona’ in contrast to ‘anima’, which, according to
him, represents the real nature of a person.
‘Persona’ is the mask that hides ‘anima’, real nature. It is a
“façade presented to satisfy the demands of a situation or environment” and
does not represent the real personality of the individual. Daryl Sharp’s Jung
Lexicon defines persona as a “functional complex” that “comes into
existence for reasons of adaptation or personal convenience”.
In
Literary Studies, ‘persona’ was used in the beginning to mean a mask worn by
actors to indicate the role they played. This mask was at once a protective
covering and an asset when mixing with other people. In lyric poetry, the
narrator is the persona. There is a general tendency to equate the narrator
with the poet. Nothing could be further from the truth. The
poet may adopt the voice of another gender, race, species, or material object.
As the narrator, he/she may
assume a perspective entirely different from his/her own. But in the poem, he/she
will appear as the implied speaker, the ‘I’.
The mutually incompatible relationship that often exists between the narrator and
the poet may be well- illustrated by a close analysis of the poem Porphyria's Lover by Robert Browning. In
this darkly Gothic poem, the I is possibly a psychopath (Terry Eagleton).
The narrator describes how coolly he decides to strangle his trusting partner
when she has become mine, mine.
He nonchalantly declares:
I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In
one long yellow string I wound
Three
times her little throat around,
And strangled her.
The
‘off-handedness’ of that thing to do,
‘as though the speaker might equally well have chosen to trim his moustache, is
especially chilling’ (Eagleton). The speaker is confident that she felt no
pain. He opened her eyelids and saw not a
stain in her blue eyes. He untightened the plait of hair and saw
that her cheek was blush with his kisses.
I propped her head up as before,
Only,
this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops
upon it still:
……………………………………………………
And thus we sit
together now,
And all night long
we have not stirred,
He sat with the dead woman 'all night long',
And
yet God has not said a word!
The narrator expected God to punish him for the gruesome deed he
committed. He is disappointed that God has not said or done anything. He has
deliberately tempted God, but God has remained silent.
The poem poses complex challenges for the reader—chief among them being the
identity of the narrator. We know that Porphyria is the name of the murdered
woman. Hence her lover—I— must be a male speaker. But there is nothing in the
poem that suggests so. It is a hypothesis
we bring to the piece to make sense of it, says Eagleton. The ‘I’
might as well be a woman, but Browning was a Victorian, and a Victorian poet
writing about lesbian love is unthinkable. In a lighter tone, Eagleton
concludes that the only thing we can understand from textual evidence is that
the ‘I’ of the poem is not a giraffe simply because giraffes do not wind people’s hair three times around their
throats and strangle them.
Eagleton’s attempt here
is to draw our attention to the complexities involved in things we take for
granted. Identifying the persona of a poem is a task beset
with many problems. It is so even for the native speakers of the language. The
reader’s failure to detect the identity will result in a misreading or
an inadequate reading of the work, as Wilfred L. Guerin points out in A
Handbook of Critical Approaches. The gravity of the challenge is felt
more in lyric poetry than in any other genre.
Guerin
cites the example of Andrea del Sarto,
another poem by Browning. The reader must realize that “Andrea is addressing a
woman and that they are among the paintings at a certain time of day.
Consequently, it is even more important to know what Andrea feels about his
inadequacy as a painter and as a man….” Andrea is in the twilight of his career
and his marriage. His wife, Lucrezia, seems more attached to her ‘cousin’ (probably
her lover). She owes him
gambling debts. The weary Andrea gives her money and promises to sell his
paintings to settle her debts. She goes away with her ‘cousin’ while he sits
quietly dreaming of Heaven. “It is a quiet poem, the musings of a defeated man.
Both in language and form, it is modest and calm”.
This simple comprehension of the poem must pose no
challenge to the reader. But poems are complex, and in Browning, we must always
expect the unexpected. The ‘modest and calm’ surface of the poem is deceptive.
It says many things about Andrea but says a lot more about Browning. Readers
cannot afford to overlook the autobiographical elements when discussing the narrative
voice in a Work.
Andrea seems to
represent the insecurities of Browning. Readers must remember that Browning did
not enjoy public success till late in his career. Many critics considered
his wife, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, the far greater poet. It was so at the
time of the publication of Men and Women. Though their
marriage prospered on mutual respect and support, it is still possible that
Browning might have felt, as Andrea does, that domestic life and the presence
of his wife weakened his art. The persona is Andrea, whose insecurities stem
from his uxoriousness, the sin of Adam. "That Browning’s anxieties
found a prototype in Andrea’s may be accidental, yet bearing in mind the
analogy will certainly augment the aesthetic charm of the poem."(Guerin)
Hence,
the reader or listener must examine the situation, structure, descriptive
details, figurative language, and rhythms to determine the speaker’s identity.
TONE
DEFINITION
Eagleton defines
tone as the sound, pitch, pace, and intensity of a poem expressing a
particular emotion and it involves modulation of the voice
expressing a particular mood or feeling (How to Read a Poem). Since
signs and emotions intersect in tone, it may be “arch, abrupt, dandyish,
lugubrious, rakish, obsequious, urbane, exhilarated, imperious* and so
on” according to Eagleton. However, students of poetry should be wary of
reaching hasty conclusions about the tone of a poem because there is a chance
of misinterpreting the tone when randomly assigned to particular words that are
toneless in themselves.
[*Arch = naughty, playful. Dandyish=
someone excessively concerned
about his/her clothes and appearance. Lugubrious=gloomy,
sad. Rakish=corrupt, debased.
Obsequious = fawning, submissive. Urbane= polite or polished in manner].
Tone reveals the poet’s attitude towards the
subject/audience.
- The tone in satire is ironic. It may be one of protest or moral indignation in an anti-war
poem. In an elegy, the tone may be of regret or melancholy, and in a limerick, * the tone maybe playful or humorous. [Given
below is an example. Many such limericks are available online ]
*There's this subject called chemistry
how it works is
a total mystery
it is an atom
says my madam
but all I see is
my misery
- The tone in a poem may not be static but dynamic. It may go on changing as the poem progresses—for example, Milton’s Lycidas.
[In the opening lines, the tone is one of
bitterness at the untimely demise of Edward King, the Lycidas. The poem assumes
a calm air when the poet recalls the pastoral life at Cambridge. But resentment (at the death of Lycidas and
the fruitless profession of serving the Muses) surfaces again. Feelings of
anger and aggression against the rampant corruption in the Church follow.
Towards the finale, peace and serenity return as the poet comes to terms with
the death of Lycidas. The poem ends in a note of acceptance at the thought of
eternal happiness for Lycidas in heaven. The tone shifts to one of hope for a
new beginning].
The tone in a poem
is a reliable indicator of the attitudes of the poet/persona towards the
subject. It may express the overall mood of the poem. Sometimes it helps to
harness the emotional response of the reader to the subject matter. Nothing can
exemplify the cynicism of Donne better than the tone in Go and Catch a
Falling Star.
At the beginning of
the poem, Donne lists a series of impossibilities like catching a falling star,
getting a child from mandrake root, telling where all past years are, finding
out who cleft the devil’s foot, etc. The suggestion is that all these
impossibilities may become possibilities, but finding a faithful woman will
always remain impossible. The poet assures the listener that even if he (the
latter) rides ten thousand days and nights, he will return to
report: Nowhere / Lives a woman true and fair.
The last stanza
takes us to an ironic climax seldom equalled in its brazen cynicism and
misogyny.
If thou find’st one, let me know,
Such a pilgrimage were sweet;
Yet do not, I would not go,
Though at next door we might meet;
Though she were true, when you met her,
And last, till you write your letter,
Yet she
Will
be
False, ere I come, to two, or three.
The tone of the poem is light and
frivolous. The poem endorses the patriarchal values of Elizabethan society. [Let
us not forget the oft-quoted, 'Frailty thy name is woman’ [Hamlet] and Petruchio’s references to his wife as “my goods, my
chattels . . . my ox, my ass, my anything” in The Taming of the Shrew]. The
poem validates the misogynistic belief that all women (or all beautiful women, anyway) are
unfaithful and should not be trusted.
One of the main
difficulties that confront us when reading poetry is the ambivalent tone in
some poems. The ambivalence arises (perhaps) when the fears and suspicions in the poet’s mind get
reflected in the poem. A typical example of ambivalence is Robert Frost’s The
Road Not Taken.
Almost every
well-educated person is familiar with the poem. (In
fact, so familiar that the poem has become a cliché). Just the same, it is America’s most widely
misread poem, as The Paris Review notes. The poem is
highly deceptive, the best example in all of (the)
American poetry of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, as Frank Lentricchia points out.
Two roads
diverged in a yellow wood,
And
sorry I could not travel both
And
be one traveller, long I stood
And
looked down one as far as I could
To
where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then
took the other, as just as fair,
And
having perhaps the better claim,
Because
it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though
as for that the passing there
Had
worn them really about the same,
And
both that morning equally lay
In
leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh,
I kept the first for another day!
Yet
knowing how way leads on to way,
I
doubted if I should ever come back.
I
shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere
ages and ages hence:
Two
roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I
took the one less travelled by,
And
that has made all the difference.
People
experience acute discomfort from their timidity when the situation requires a
decision to be made—a proverbial Hamletian dilemma ('To be or not to be, that's the question').
The persona is not sure whether his/her decision was wrong, right, or neither.
The confusion in the mind of the persona makes the tone ambiguous. It is hard
to say whether it is melancholic/jubilant.
The issue will
never be resolved because it is human nature to reflect on past decisions and
wonder whether one has taken the right decision or not. As Shelley writes:
We look before and after,
And pine for what is not:
These lectures on poetry contain seven topics:
i. Metrics,
ii. Persona and tone,
iii. Rhythm,
iv. Sonnet,
v. Stanza,
vi. How to read poetry, and
vii. Appreciation of poetry.
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