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Viva voce : the oral and rhetorical power of quotation in The cantos of Ezra Pound Tayler, Anne Hamilton 1991

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VIVA VOCE: T H E O R A L A N D R H E T O R I C A L POWER OF Q U O T A T I O N I N THE CANTOS OF E Z R A P O U N D by ANNE HAMILTON TAYLER B A (Hon), The University of British Columbia A THESIS S U B M I T T E D I N P A R T I A L F U L F I L L M E N T OF T H E R E Q U I R E M E N T S FOR T H E D E G R E E OF D O C T O R OF PHILOSOPHY in T H E F A C U L T Y OF G R A D U A T E STUDIES Department of English  We accept this thesis as conforming to the required standard  T H E UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH C O L U M B I A August 1991 ® Anne Hamilton Tayler,  1991  In  presenting this  degree at the  thesis  in  University  of  partial  fulfilment  British Columbia,  of  the  requirements  of  department  this thesis for scholarly or  by  his  or  her  an  permission for extensive  purposes may be granted by the  representatives.  It  is  understood  head of my  that  publication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed without permission.  Department of  E - M C L I Sy\  The University of British Columbia Vancouver, Canada Date  DE-6 (2/88)  3 O • I * • °[ i  advanced  I agree that the Library shall make it  freely available for reference and study. I further agree that copying  for  copying  or  my written  ABSTRACT  This study of Ezra Pound's Cantos considers quotations in the poem which are clearly marked as such, not for their content, nor for the relationship between new and old contexts, but for the oral qualities of the quoted material, and for the rhetorical effects of the fact of quotation itself. After cataloguing the principal means by which quotation is marked, the thesis assesses the notion (most clearly formulated by Walter Benjamin) that the great power of quotation lies in its interruptive power rather than in its value as authority in argument (Chapter 3). Such interruptive power, drawing attention as it does to the multiplicity of voices available in the text, reinforces our sense of The Cantos as an oral text. This chapter and the one following — which traces the connections between The Cantos and oral traditions and traditional techniques — suggests that the neglect of the oral qualities of quotation has led critics to consider the poem as deeply and irretrievably fragmented. Situating The  Cantos in relation to other oral works shows not only the ways in which Pound draws on the tension between the aural and the visual elements of the poem and of language (speech and song in contrast to the written) but also the pervasive omnipresence of the heard: the play of ear against eye is a play of melopceia against phanopceia, and the text of The Cantos is most fruitfully to be seen as a score for the speaking voice. Such orality enables Pound to draw directly upon the resources and techniques of the classical rhetorical tradition, thereby enabling him in quoting the words of others to lend their words the authority of his own voice. The poem thus achieves a strong  ii  sense of a multiplicity of voices and effects unified by the presence of the poet himself, without compromising Pound's conviction (shared with Yeats and Williams and others of his contemporaries) that rhetoric is utterly to be distinguished from poetry, and kept separate from it.  iii  T A B L E O F CONTENTS  Abstract  ii  Acknowledgements  v i i  Abbreviations  v :  CHAPTER 1  Drinking the Tone of Things  CHAPTER 2  Conscious Quotation  18  CHAPTER 3  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  39  CHAPTER 4  Cicadas and the Live Phrase  71  CHAPTER 5  Melopoeia, Bars & Rhythm  125  CHAPTER 6  Voices of Persuasion  176  Works Cited  1  211  iv  ABBREVIATIONS  A B C of Reading  ABCR  "Affirmations — As for Imagisme"  "Affirmations"  Ezra Pound and Music  EPM  Ezra Pound: Selected Prose 1909-1965  SP  Guide to Kulchur  GK  "How to Read"  "Read"  I Gather the Limbs of Osiris  Osiris  "The Jefferson-Adams Letters as a Shrine and a Monument"  "J-A Letters"  Literary Essays of Ezra Pound  LE  Make It New  MIN  "Marianne Moore and Mina Loy"  "Moore & Loy"  A Memoir of Gaudier-Brzeska  GB  "The Prose Tradition in Verse"  "Prose Tradition"  "Remy de Gourmont"  "de Gourmont"  Selected Letters of Ezra Pound 1907-1941  Letters  "The Serious Artist"  "Artist"  "Translators of Greek:  Early Translators of Homer"  "Translators" "Vers Libre"  "Vers Libre and Arnold Dolmetsch"  A l l references to the Cantos are given in square brackets, with the canto number first, the page number second, [2/6] for example. v  Because the physical appearance of quotations in The Cantos often affects the reading, utterance and interpretation of the material, I have tried to present quotations from the poem in ways that reflect, as closely as possible, the original text. To present the material in a standardized traditional form would distort the text and would not adequately demonstrate the effects of the original. Therefore, selections from The Cantos quoted in this text include unusual line and word spacings, a variety of font styles and sizes, unusual punctuation, abbreviations, graphics, ideograms and hieroglyphics.  vi  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This dissertation could not have been completed without the support, tolerance and encouragement of my daughters, Cindy and Wendy, not to mention their many large and small sacrifices over the years, many of them, I'm sure, insufficiently noticed. I owe, too, a great deal to friends and family who have put up with my occasionally erratic-seeming behaviour, and who provided all sorts of general assistance and encouragement, especially Marion Bringhurst, Elizabeth Tayler, Alan Hunt, Janne Hicklin, Paul Read, Skeeter Verlaine-Wright and Patrick Royle. Robert Bringhurst has been especially helpful with Greek translations and other matters of "the heart's law." Thanks also goes to Miles Morton, Jennifer Hunt, and Christine Fortier, for their extraordinary and highly practical help in the summer of 1991. And I must not neglect the "fire" crew, who came out in the middle of the night during the 1991 Heckel H i l l forest fire, to evacuate the dissertation and the computer first, me and my other belongings second.  I am grateful for funding from the P . E . O Sisterhood, and for Graduate Fellowships from the University of British Columbia, which made it possible for me to undertake graduate studies in the early 1980s. Yukon College graciously allowed me a reduced work load, for three months in 1991, making it possible to finish this dissertation.  The staff at the Yukon College Library and U B C extension services have all gone far beyond the call of duty helping me to obtain copies of books and articles not  vii  normally available in the Yukon, and in some cases scarce and unusual anywhere. Datapac and fax machines helped in the process, but the people at either end were always extremely helpful and cheerful. And finally, I owe very special thanks to my thesis supervisor, Dr. Peter A . Quartermain. From start to finish, his encouragement, unfailing good cheer, and long-distance assistance with locating texts, have been the inspiration to keep going, especially when the task seemed unreasonable or impossible, given the distance and isolation.  viii  CHAPTER ONE Drinking the Tone of Things  Grave incessu, drinking the tone of things, And the old voice lifts itself weaving an endless sentence. [7/24]  1  Drinking the Tone of Things  When I first set out, several years ago, to investigate the use of quotation in The Cantos, it was in reaction to the visual markings of quotation on the page, the visual interference going on almost incessantly throughout the poem. As Jacob Korg observes, "Even the parts of the poem that are not wholesale borrowings are filled with shorter quotations" ("Collage" 98). The quoted material is often clearly and variously marked — by traditional punctuation marks and speech predicators, as well as a wide range of other grammatical and graphemic features, and verbal cues. Frequently, there is also some reference to the source. Instinctively I felt that there must be a pattern in those various markings, and I wanted, I thought, to map that pattern, to describe it and see how it connected to the substance of the poem. So I set about the laborious task of noting and annotating marked quotation in the text. Three journals later, it became clear that nearly all of my annotations dealt with sound, with the oral qualities of the texts. The patterns that emerged were in my ear, not on the page, and not in the punctuation, the speech predicators, or the references to speech. Which is not to say that the visual features had no patterns; rather, they reinforce the sense of voice, framing visually what the inner or imaginary ear was already responding to, echoes, rough rhymes, repetition, etc.  Because Pound says so much about the sounds and rhythms of voice — particularly about the natural voice of the live man speaking, and the various tonal  2  Drinking the Tone of Things  and rhythmic qualities of syllables — it is essential to attend Pound's own words on the matter. The issue of live voice appears in his letters, his essays, his poems — everything he wrote, regardless of subject, be it poetry, economics, music or history. In general terms, Pound favoured the view that history is preserved and transmitted through the oral tradition: "the heart's law transmitted viva voce from master to pupil, memorized and talked back and forth as mutual control of invariable modus of action" (Confucius 97). This is a belief paralleled in a proverb of some Athapaskan people in northern Canada: to reach the heart, a thing must go in through the ear.  1  This is an approach to storytelling, poetry and history that involves the body, the living presence of voice and ear. Listener and teller share a dependency on voice and audition.  On the occasion of the publication of Ulysses, Ezra Pound praised James Joyce's ability to speak with many voices, and to convey the atmosphere of place and event: Joyce speaks if not with the tongues of men and angels, at least with a many-tongued and multiple language, of small boys, street preachers, of genteel and ungenteel, of bowsers and undertakers, of Gertie McDowell and M r Deasey . . . . the atmosphere of the Gerty-Nausika episode with its echoes of vesper service is certainly 'conveyed, and conveyed with a certitude and efficiency that neither James nor Proust have excelled. ("Paris Letter" quoted in Pound/Joyce 196) 1  A similar multiplicity of voices emerges in The Cantos, largely through the many  3  Drinking the Tone of Things  quotations that appear throughout the poem. Like the voices in Ulysses, the voices in Pound's quotations have that power to convey an atmosphere, the tone of things. Indeed, for Pound, one of the greatest values of language is found in its non-semantic qualities, which generate communication of an essentially emotional nature, melopceia, which can in turn work with semantic qualities to "charge" words "over and above their plain meaning" ("Read," LE 25).  Quotations have attracted more critical and scholarly attention than perhaps any other feature of The Cantos of Ezra Pound. Given their extent and variety in the poem, this is understandable: they appear in virtually every Canto. Ubiquitous and prominent, quotations provoke and demand attention. Yet much of the critical attention begins and ends with the identification of sources or the analysis of what the quotations actually say. There are annotated indices, such as Carroll F. Terrell's A Companion to the Cantos of Ezra Pound (1980 and 1984), itself an offshoot of The Annotated Index to the Cantos of Ezra Pound by John Hamilton Edwards and William W . Vasse (1957), and a regular feature in Paideuma that deals with factual material, "The Explicator." Thematic concerns are of primary importance for these critics; orality, music and speech patterns are incidental to their explanations. There also are a number of articles and books that identify sources for quoted material, such as Frederick Sander's John Adams Speaking: Pound's Sources for the Adams' Cantos  4  Drinking the Tone of Things  (1975). In some cases, the focus is on reviewing what information the quotations add to the text, usually in an effort to explain historical and philosophical backgrounds, or to expose supposed intentions, perhaps even to determine Pound's reading habits — Andrew J. Kappel's article, for example, "The Reading and Writing of a Modern Paradiso: Ezra Pound and the Books of Paradise" (1981). Kappel examines the books that Pound had access to, during the writing of the Rock-Drill and Thrones sections of The Cantos; he argues that the books effectively were his environment, and conversely that the books are reflected in those Cantos. The emphasis in these works is on the information in the quotations, and/or information about the sources, with a secondary interest in what that information reveals about Pound's relationship to the world.  On the other hand, references to quotation often are secondary or incidental to some other discussion, as in the major critical works on Pound — including Hugh Kenner's The Pound Era (1971), Leon Surette's Light from Eleusis (1979), George Dekker's Sailing after Knowledge (1963), Herbert N . Schneidau's Ezra Pound: The Image and the Real (1969), Ronald Bush's Genesis of Ezra Pound's Cantos (1976), Michael Bernstein's Tale of the Tribe (1990), and Jean-Michel Rabatd's Language, Sexuality and Ideology in Ezra Pound's Cantos (1986). These critics discuss  5  Drinking the Tone of Things  quotation, with respect to either the content or the form, as it relates to some other theory of The Cantos, rather than dealing with quotation in and of itself.  Yet in spite of the many works that address quotation in some manner, the criticism dealing with quotations The Cantos is the least resolved of any area of scholarship relating to Pound's work. The great difficulty critics have found in dealing with the volume and variety of quoted material in the poem has of course lessened as more and more research is done; nevertheless, critics still neglect the rhetorical issues raised by Pound's extensive use of quotation, in favour of thematizing their readings of the text. Such a view is, in turn, complicated by the attention that many critics pay to the question of whether or not The Cantos is a long poem or not, and whether the work is actually a collection/sequence/series of disparate smaller works. A good deal of attention has been paid, therefore, to the unrelatedness and fragmentary nature of the quotations, with critics suggesting that unity is precluded, prevented or obscured by the disruptive qualities of some portions and features of the text, usually involving quotation.  In considering the effects of quotation on overall form, the primary focus has been on the fragmentary nature of the text (Dekker, Surette, Davie, Bush, for example). Some critics have focussed on the various things that Pound did with the  6  Drinking the Tone of Things  material that he borrowed (altering texts, transliteration, etc.), to show how those practices cause fragmentation or prevent wholeness. Leon Surette, in A Light from Eleusis, works on the assumption that "Pound's epic is more a collection of poetry than a single coherent poem" (Preface vii). George Dekker, concerned with the "intelligibility" and/or the "incomprehensibility" of the poem, would prefer to single out several of what he considers "better" cantos, for "special attention." He thinks it "vastly more important to isolate the cantos or parts of the cantos which are fairly complete poetic wholes: for the best of these will survive . . . " (126).  Sometimes,  the work is simply termed a great failure as a long poem.  A few critics have taken the opposite tack and considered quotation as a device contributing to a unified whole (Davis, Rabate\ Bernstein).  Arguments of this sort  usually rely heavily on features of the text as text, as opposed to the poem as voiced — repetitions of content, such as recurrent themes, for example — rather than the qualities of voice or speech, such as the repetitions of sound. Pound's remarks about fugue, for instance, have sent a number of critics scurrying for ways to map The Cantos as fugue with respect to themes, or ways to prove the term inappropriate. In some instances, the remark has directed critics away from ear and towards the more tangible, or more easily identified, structures of the poem. The echo of dee-liberation [43/215] in REE-sponsibility [43/216 and 43/218], for example, represents part of a  7  Drinking the Tone of Things  structural pattern of thought, but one that is initiated by sounds, in this case with the prolonged vowel sounds, and recognized through the echo in the ear. Thus Kay Davis's discussion of Ring Composition, relies on the features of the text as a written document, in which the linearity of the spoken performance is clearly at odds with the recursive — that is, re-cursive, or re-written and re-read ("Ideogram and Ring Composition" in Fugue and Fresco 41-59). Indeed, her discussion of The Cantos is remarkable for its neglect of the oral and aural qualities of Pound's work. Which is to say, it is a literate view of an oral issue.  Little of the discussion centered on quotations deals thoroughly with voices and sounds — orality — or with the rhetorical power of quotations. Few critics have looked closely at the oral qualities of quoted material in The Cantos, and few have linked those qualities to Pound's many references and reflections about qualities of voice and sound. Many critics do touch briefly on oral aspects of the quotations, but often they treat the subject as an afterthought or aside, or a corollary to some other point, and from a literate perspective. The only critic who has dealt with the issue to any degree is Max Nanny, who considers both the dimensions and the roots of the oral in The Cantos, basing his investigations on the oral traditions of both Greece and ancient Israel ("Oral Roots of Ezra Pound's Methods of Quotations and Abbreviation" 1979 and "Oral Dimensions in Ezra Pound" 1977). His investigations stop short of  8  Drinking the Tone of Things  an examination of the actual sounds of the text. Also, he shifts his focus from the Greek to the Rabbinic traditions, and then later to Menippean satire ("Ezra Pound and the Menippean Tradition" 1982), without providing a thorough overview of the whole oral process, and without considering more modern oral conditions. Having determined the existence of oral roots, and oral dimensions, it remains to consider how orality works in the text.  Pound's interest in orality is evident throughout his writings and throughout his life — witness his comments about the voices in Ulysses. For most of his life, he advocated the natural phrase, the language of speech, the rhythm of the speaking voice: the live man speaking. Referring to a draft of The Cantos, he used the phrase "I am speaking about." And he began his radio broadcasts, "Ezra Pound Speaking." Dead voices held no appeal. Words must "come to life in audition." The extent of Pound's concern for the viva voce is evident in many of his writings — essays, letters and poems are full of comments about the sound of speech, the sound of the speaking voice. He comments on everything from vowel duration, to intentional pauses, to pitch, to natural phrasing, natural rhythm, shaggy rhymes and more. That concern would at times override his interest in original sources or particular meaning: he deliberately introduced errors, misattributed quotations, and urged poets to study language for its sound, for its sound exclusive of meaning. For understanding  9  Drinking the Tone of Things  rhythm, he recommends the following: Let the candidate fill his mind with the finest cadences he can discover, preferably in a foreign language, so that the meaning of the words may be less likely to divert his attention from the movement; e.g., Saxon charms, Hebridean Folk Songs, the verse of Dante and the lyrics of Shakespeare — if he can dissociate the vocabulary from the cadence. (LE 5) For Pound, the sound of language is meaning — meaning on a more visceral level than can occur with semantics, the direct and intimate communication, ideogrammic, without interference of the analytical mind. Play of sound and image before play of meaning: melopma.  Freud taught us to pay attention to the aside, the seemingly casual utterance, as did novelists like Henry James. Pound's own asides and seemingly casual utterances about quotations therefore have importance and relevance.  And while Pound's  remarks about the sounds of language and the nature of speech are often included in discussions focussed on other aspects of The Cantos, the information is usually considered only as it relates to those other interests: (language and sexuality; economics; epic; intertextuality; explanation for semi-phonetic transcriptions, etc.). There is no serious or thorough examination of his views of viva voce in relation to his major work. And no study situating his views in context with other theories about oral literature. While Max Nanny's work comes closest, it does not take into account  10  Drinking the Tone of Things  modern theories of oral literature and discourse; nor does it deal with the textual features of quotation, and the effects those features have; and finally, it does not include the specific relationships between quotations and orality.  The question of quotation in The Cantos begins with the first Canto, even though this particular quotational situation and the presentation of the quoted material in this Canto are both relatively simple. In later Cantos, the quoted material and the markings that signal quotation are more various and often more pronounced. With the introduction of Chinese ideograms and Greek text, the material becomes increasingly difficult to interpret, and sometimes difficult even to utter. The visual effect can be bewildering, as Jean-Michel Rabat^ points out: Pound wished to burrow to the heart of a vortex of energies . . . . Hence the 'Make It New' motto applies to politics and to literature, to cultural economy and to economic thought. That is why The Cantos, the logbook of an evershifting exploration, the depository of knowledge and techniques gleaned among Homeric heroes and Confucian emperors, presents such a formidable obstacle to our reading-habits; the sight of the blocks of quotations culled from obscure textbooks and heaped rather haphazardly on the page to form a superb erratic chaos is at times utterly bewildering. (107) For many, the heaping of quotations is chaotic, and represents fragmentary accumulation, rather than epic or long poem. The process is often considered obfuscatory, confusing, or unintelligible — "debris . . . murkier chaos, an ever more  11  Drinking the Tone of Things  tangled web . . . snarled imprecations" (Davie, Poet as Sculptor 126). While many critics sought some order in the tangled web, others, like Reed Dasenbrock, abandoned the question of order and would have readers "glory in the chaos," for example (193).  For other critics, however, Pound's approach results in an epic: It is his development, his variation, his selection which constitutes his magic. He is an adapter, an arranger, eventually a commentator. Occasionally the result is extraordinary, achieving effects not present in the original source at all. His epic is intended to be a combination of everything he considers worth borrowing from the storehouse of the past; it might aptly be called an epic writer's epic. (Earle Davis 28) In this school of thought, Pound's epic would serve as a foundation and root source for the epics of other poets, in the same way that Homer's epic has provided subsequent generations of poets, including Pound, with the foundations for epics of their own. The net effect, of course, is quite different, since Homer's epic is woven of a series of related strands out of more-or-less one culture, whereas Pound's is woven out of the strands of many cultures, with the various strands brought into and leaving the braid at different points, and still remaining connected to their original sources.  12  Drinking the Tone of Things  Given the storehouse and logbook effects of quotation in The Cantos, it is not surprising that so many readers and critics go source-hunting: . . . the desire to go source-hunting, even with the somewhat perverse motivation of checking his poem against possible or necessary errors of transcription, is one of the most fundamental critical responses induced by the text. The problems of reference appear as the major issue, posing the twin problematic of the 'credit' which can be given to Pound and his text, and of the historical relevance of his Cantos. (Rabat6 106) Indirect speech and the naming of sources are just two of the features which encourage this activity. Yet source-hunting was not necessarily what Pound had in mind. Jean Michel Rabat6 suggests that Pound "wished to burrow to the heart of the vortex of energies, through which to promote the constant renewal of the idioms, values, and visions of the gods he advocates in his critical writings" (107). In this regard, Pound's quotation practices stand in contrast to Joyce's: "according to one quip, he wanted to keep the universities busy for more than 300 years" (RabatS 107). Pound wanted to get the contents of the British Museum, at least the "few simple truths" to be found there, into the folklore of common people, into the common tongue (SCIA 6), rather than to send the reader into the stacks of books which clearly could never be read in one lifetime (GK 53-54).  While Pound's use of quotation relies on what Emerson calls "our debt to  13  Drinking the Tone of Things  tradition," he does not use quotation in traditional ways. His quotations do not stand merely as evidence from other and past sources. He wanted The Cantos to be inclusive; in 1917, he described it in a letter to James Joyce, as "an endless poem, of no known category. Phanopoeia or something or other, all about everything" (quoted in Pound/Joyce 102). It was essential, therefore, that it be possible for the things of the immediate world to enter the poem — especially, for example in the Pisan Cantos — "It had to be a form that wouldn't exclude something merely because it didn't fit" (Hall 38). The juxtaposition and layering of quotations throughout The Cantos, 2  generates a great deal of play and echo among the quoted texts, their sources, and the new contexts. There is, for example, what Pound calls "extreme condensation" in some of the quotations; '"Mine eyes have (given as mi-hine eyes hev refers to the 1  Battle Hymn of the Republic as heard from the Loud speaker" ("Note to Base Censor," qtd. in Hall 36). In such cases, quotations work as structural and rhetorical devices. Pound also "seems more interested in establishing a sense of the actual presence of what he is quoting than in emphasizing its relevance to his opinions" (Korg, "Collage" 98). And one of the strongest elements of that actual presence is voice.  While the problems of sources may distract readers and perhaps turn their attention away from the sounds of the quotations, the text continually draws attention  14  Drinking the Tone of Things  to their oral qualities. Rabate" suggests that "One cannot help being impressed by the strange self-abnegation of a poet who limits his role to the oral impersonation of some characters mentioned in American history" (107). While Rabate" recognizes the oral element involved, he is wrong, I think, about the rest; for the process is neither limiting nor is it mere impersonation. The voices in The Cantos are not impersonations, they simply are the voices — "consisting in res non verba" [82/525], the thing itself. Pound defines epic as "a poem including history," and not, for example, as a poem reporting history or containing historical reports; he also speaks variously of presenting "slabs" or "chunks" of history. For Pound, the act of remembrance takes priority over the original subject: "remember that I have remembered" [80/506]. In other words, for Pound, the iteration is the action and the thing. Pound is often quoted as describing The Cantos as "a long poem containing history." Scholars have responded variously to that remark, suggesting that the poem erases, distorts, presents, and so on. Often one vital point is overlooked: The Cantos may "contain" history, but they also, and more importantly, contain the voices of history: "Sagetrieb, or the / oral tradition" [89/597]. The force and immediacy of the many voices, of live man speaking, dominate throughout the poem.  The play of sound throughout crosses languages, dialects, texts, graphics, hieroglyphics and ideograms. In some instances, as Marjorie Perloff suggests, the  15  Drinking the Tone of Things  lines "do not convey information, rather, they take certain facts and present them from different linguistic perspectives . . . as if to undercut their historicity" (Indeterminacy 183). At the same time, there are structural rhythms that link together different parts of The Cantos. In those sorts of rhythms the "characteristic patterns, problems, and phenomenology appear as a kind of impromptu grammar of particulars" (Kramer 23). It is such a grammar of particulars that underlies the echoes of voices from one canto to another. The voices are distinguished and recognized by their rhythms, and by their natural phrasing, their patterns of rest.  With voices out of memory, out of history, Pound's quotations provoke utterance, demand audition, generate ideological and aural echoes, and function as melopoda, communicating on a level beneath and beyond semantics — "beyond the precisions of the intellect" (LE 53) — where the musical qualities of the text of the speaker/author appeal directly to the emotions of the person listening/reading. The speaking voice is the force that counters the deadness of the British Museum, and the force that can pass on the "heart's law."  16  Drinking the Tone of Things  1. Trinh T. Minh-ha says that in women's stories, speech comes from the belly. See "Grandma's Story" in Blasted Allegories: An Anthology of Writings by Contemporary Artists. 2. In an explanatory note to the censor at the Pisa Detention Camp, "Note to Base Censor," Pound explains this inclusiveness, as it applies to the Pisan Cantos: The form of the poem and main progress is conditioned by its own inner shape, but the life of the D . T . C . passing OUTSIDE the scheme cannot but impinge, or break into the main flow. (qtd. in Hall 36)  17  CHAPTER TWO Conscious Quotation The introduction to any ordered discourse is composed of conscious or unconscious quotation. For 2,500 years Europe has been quoting Aristotle, wittingly or unwittingly. In China every dynasty that lasted as long as three centuries was based on the Ta Hsueh or 'Great Learning' of Confucius and had a group of Confucians behind it. The Master Kung collected the Odes and the historical documents of the ancient kings, which he considered instruments worthy of preservation. (SP 306)  18  Conscious Quotation  Quotation, for the purposes of this dissertation, includes material that in The Cantos is clearly identified as such, in that it is marked by one means or another as taken from other sources. That is to say, material which gives "some indication that one is giving the words of another" — material that is visibly marked as quotation 1  by punctuation, arrangement, orthography, typography, speech predicators, changes in language or dialect, changes in voice or syntax, direct and indirect references to speech, and/or references to the quoting process. Material thus marked in The Cantos may include real and actual quotation; inexact or adapted quotations; translated quotations; transliterated texts; or imaginary quotation and dialogue. Whether or not the text is a true quotation, in the traditional sense, is not important. What is important is whether or not Pound treats it and marks it as quotation, so that a reader responds to it as such.  Quotation is ubiquitous in The Cantos, pervasive and various, appearing in virtually every canto. The range of quoted materials and their sources is extremely varied throughout the poem, including both written and oral sources, many different languages and cultures, and many historical periods. Equally various are the means by which Pound marks quotations. This chapter identifies, characterizes and comments upon the more prevalent forms Pound uses to mark and/or frame quoted material. Some of the marking features stand alone to signal quotation; others work  19  Conscious  Quotation  only in combination with other features, and still others serve to strengthen the effects created by more obvious markers, and to underscore the presence of quotation, and the force of the quotation process.  Pound uses double quotation marks very frequently throughout The Cantos. They are used in the modern style — at the beginning and end of a quoted passage — and also in the neoclassical fashion: at the beginning of each line in a series, as well as the beginning and end of the passage. Both styles of double quotation marks occur with material borrowed from written and oral sources, as well as dialogue and other forms of direct speech.  Some of the materials marked with modern double quotes are  borrowed from ancient written texts: "Et omniforis" [5/17], for example, or "Si pulvis nullus," said Ovid, / "Erit, nullum tamen excute" [7/24]. Others from proverbs and mottos:  "Nec Spe Nec Metu" [3/12]. Also from other poets:  "Winter and Summer I sing of her grace, As the rose is fair, so fair is her face, Both Summer and Winter I sing of her, The snow makyth me to remember her."  [6/23]  These lines, adapted from a poem by Sordello, are clearly set off from the surrounding text, by indentation and line spacing, and yet they still are framed by quotation marks. In such examples, the quotation marks emphatically announce the quotational process and set the quoted text apart from surrounding material.  20  Conscious Quotation  Double quotation marks set in the modern style also occur with material taken from letters, including letters in the Malatesta postbag and the Adams-Jefferson correspondence:  "The revolution," said M r Adams, "Took place in the minds of the  people" [32/157], or "I speak of the Grand Duke of Tuscany (T.J. to J . A . '77) somewhat avaricious in his nature...crowns lying dead in his coffers,...application perhaps from Dr. Franklin wd. be prudent to sound well before hand...." [33/161] And also the intelligent conversation of others: It was all done by conversation, possibly because one repeats the point when conversing: "Vienna contains a mixture of races." wd. I stay and be Budd-ha? "They are accustomed to having an Emperor. They must have Something to worship. (1927)" [38/189] Finally there are the invective and invocational cries of real and mythological figures: "Slut!" "Bitch" [8/28]; and "Peace! / Borso..., Borso!" [20/95], for example.  The neoclassical style of double quotation marks was adopted in the sixteenth century, soon after inverted commas were first used. That method of marking quotation became very popular throughout much of Europe, especially in Great Britain, but fell out of fashion in the late eighteenth century. Given that this form is no longer in common practice, the appearance of these marks attracts attention to passages marked this way. The effect is particularly noticeable because the marks are  21  Conscious Quotation  usually aligned along the left hand margin, and often occur for several lines in a row. Written documents, for example: Orsini, Count Pitigliano, on the 17th of November: "Siggy, darlint, wd. you not stop making war on "insensible objects, such as trees and domestic vines, that have "no means to hit back... but if you will hire yourself out to a "commune (Siena) which you ought rather to rule than "serve..." which with Trachulo's damn'd epistle... [10/42]  "Tant las fotei com auzirets "Cen e quatre vingt et veit vetz..."  [6/21]  The same pattern is used with some dialogue: And I cried in hurried speech: "Elpenor, how art thou come to this dark coast? "Cam'st thou afoot, outstripping seamen?" [1/4]  And Tommy Baymont said to Steff one day: "You think we run it, lemme tell you, "We bought a coalmine, I mean the mortgage fell in, "And you'd a' thought we could run it. "Well I had to go down there meself, and the manager "Said: "Run it, of course we can run it, "We can't sell the damn coal." [19/86]  This particular style of marking quotation is very insistent, hammering home the mere presence of quotation. And while it also draws attention to the extent and variety of quoted material, above all, it points to the process of quoting.  22  Conscious Quotation  Pound also uses single quotation marks, though less frequently than double ones. In some instances they work in the same manner as the double quotes, as just one more way to frame borrowed material and dialogue: Revolution said M r Adams 'took place in the minds of the people in the fifteen years before Lexington', [50/246] 1  'Greeks!' sez John Marmaduke 'a couple of art tricks! 'What else? never could set up a N A T I O N ! ' 'Wouldn't convert me, dwn't H A V E me converted, [46/232]  On the other hand, single quotes often occur in conjunction with double quotes, signalling quotation within quotation: "Que la lauzeta mover," for example, a line from a poem by Bernart de Ventadour, is a quotation within a quotation, marked by single quotation marks within double ones: "Save in my absence, Madame. 'Que la lauzeta mover' "Send word I ask you to Eblis you have seen that maker  [6/22]  Quotation within quotation is also marked in the opposite manner, with double quotation marks inside the single marks: 'Said "I know I didn't ask you, your father sent you here "to be trained. I know what I'd feel. "send my son to England and have him come back a christian! "what wd. I feel?'" Suburban garden Said Abdul Baha: "I said "let us speak of religion.' [46/232]  23  Conscious Quotation  Similarly, in an imaginary dialogue, single quotation marks are combined with double ones: "At this moment a servant knocks. 'Sir, '"dinner is on the table.' '"Ham and chickens?' 'Ham!' ' " A n d must I break the chain of my thoughts to '"go down and gnaw a morsel of damned hog's arse? '"Put aside your ham; I will dine tomorrow;' [31/155-6] There is additional visible quotation immediately before and after this passage, including passages marked with both modern and neo-classical double quotation marks. Nevertheless, or perhaps as a result, the multiple quote marks stand out, and draw attention to the various voices involved. As a result, the sense of quotation is overwhelming.  Other punctuation marks — such as dashes, colons and ellipses — also appear as markers for quotation. Most often they appear in conjunction with other features — quotation marks, extra line spacing, typography or verbal cues, for example — and serve to reinforce the framing effects of those markers: That Alessandro was negroid. And Malatesta Sigismund: Frater tamquam Et compater carissime: tergo [8/28] Here the colon combines with a line break and a shift to italics. Because the introductory words immediately before the colon include a name, a speech predicator  24  Conscious Quotation  is implied, and the dialogue of dramatic form rather than narrative. In other cases, the marking is even more obvious; the colon appears with a line break and double quotes: And of Kublai: "I have told you of that emperor's city in detail  [18/80].  Dashes appear and function in similar ways: — thus Messire Polo; prison at Genoa — "Of the Emperor." [18/80] — "You sit stiller" said Kokka "if whenever you move something jangles."  [74/433]  In each case, the colons and dashes alone would not necessarily signify quotation. However, when they appear with punctuation, or with speech predicators, and/or references to the quoting process, both colons and dashes emphasize the separation between quoted and other material, and contribute to an overall awareness of the quotation process.  This framing is especially obvious when the other features include  quotation marks.  And finally, ellipses. In Canto 31, a canto that opens with the motto "Tempus loquendi / Tempus tacendi," a canto full of quotation, ellipses appears frequently in the middle, beginning and end of quoted passages. Speech and silence, or sound and interlude. As framing for quoted material, they appear alone and also in conjunction  25  Conscious Quotation  with quotation marks: for our model, the Maison Quarree of Nismes.....  [31/154]  "...gone over it with all the foremen and engineers. And "about the silver for the small medal..." [9/39] "..this was the state of things in 1785..." (Mr Jefferson.)  [31/156]  As is the case with dashes and colons, ellipses alone do not signal quotation. They contribute indirectly to the framing of quoted material when they appear in conjunction with other features that obviously indicate that a particular text is quoted — including quotation marks, speech predicators, phrases that attribute sources, and so on. Because they often appear at the beginning or end of the line, they are quite visible. Also, Pound often uses more than the traditional three or four periods, which again makes them more noticeable.  Another feature that has the effect of underscoring the sense of quotation is arrangement. Many of the quotations in The Cantos are indented, and/or arranged so that there is visible space before or after the text. This type of arrangement again draws attention to the separation between one type of text and another, and emphasizes any differences between the two texts. For example, with a passage from J.P. Migne's Patrologiae Cursus Completus, the text begins on a new line and is very  26  Conscious Quotation  noticeably indented. In addition, the last line of introductory text before the quotation is quite short, considerably shorter than the other three lines of introduction, which emphasizes the line break and the subsequent indentation: Habdimelich made peace with the 2nd Justinian . . . contra Zubir and burnt his home and his idols with their idolator, sed susciperent, we are getting to the crux of one matter Anno sexto imperii sui Justinianus (the second) pacem, quam ad Habdimelich habuit, ex amentia dissolvit, et omnem Cypriorum insulam, et populum irrationabiliter voluit transmigrare, et characterem qui missus fuerat ab Habdimelich, eum noviter visus esset . . . et his auditis Habdimelich satanice stimulatus rogabat ne pax solveretur, sed susciperent mo-  [96/658]  The passage concludes with more prominent space: norum incisionem in suis nummis. Verum dato pondere auri ait: Nullum Romanis damnum efficitur, ex eo quod Arabes nova cuderent ... Quod et factum est, et misit Habdimelich ad aedificandum templum Muchan, et voluit auferre columnas... — col. 1060, The Deacon, Migne's Patrologia.  In fact this item, with that bit from the Eparch's edict which was still there for Kemal in our time, P A N T A ' R E I , said DuBellay translating, the base shall we say, and the slide of Bysantium,  [96/658]  The ellipses and interrupted line, along with the attributive note, are made all the more obvious as a result of the extra line space before the other text resumes, with  27  Conscious Quotation  "In fact this item." Moreover, all the features all combine with the indentation to set off and frame the quoted material.  Sometimes line spacing creates a visible separation between a series of quoted texts: ..met by agreement, about the close of the sessionPatrick Henry, Frank Lee and your father, Henry Lee and consult..measures circumstances of times seemed to call for... produce some channel of correspondence...this was in '73. Jefferson to D . Carr of St. Peter human reason, human conscience, though I believe that there are such things.... A tiel leis....en ancien scripture, and this they have translated Holy Scripture...  M r Adams.  M r Jefferson  and they continue this error. "Bonaparte...knowing nothing of commerce.... ...or paupers, who are about one fifth of the whole... (on the state of England in 1814).  [31/156]  Such spacing clearly marks the start of each quoted passage, and underscores shifts from one speaker to another, one voice to another. Those transitions are further emphasized by phrases that identify the original sources of the texts, following each passage, and the parenthetical comment at the end of the sequence.  28  2  Conscious Quotation  At one extreme, unusual spacing serves almost as interference between traditional quotation markers and the quoted text: Guiding her with oar caught over gunwale, saying: " There, in the forest of marble, " the stone trees — out of water — " the arbours of stone — marble leaf, over leaf,  [17/78]  In this passage, the separation between quotation marks and text sharply emphasizes both the marks and the indented text. And again, the form directs attention to the process of quotation. One form is layered over another here, indentations within the quotations, and at the same time steel, leaves, beaks and prows crossing one another, set against one another:  "ply over ply" [17/78]. The arrangement of quoted material,  through the use of line, word and letter spacing, is perhaps the feature that varies the most from one example to another.  Quoted material is also marked by orthography. There are numerous shifts to the Greek alphabet, Chinese ideograms, and hieroglyphs. Such shifts sometimes suggest quotation, even in the absence of other quotation markers, insofar as the texts are so obviously different, so foreign, in relation to the surrounding material. The most common shift is to Greek: and the phoenix n ponennTri pi ouc C/xvouc ai>T<J> a<5eiv as do swans for those having ear. [94/637]  29  Conscious Quotation  More obvious orthographic shifts, however, occur with Chinese ideograms: by the Kingdom of  as mentioned in Rollin,  [94/633]  And also, with hieroglyphs:  thus saith  "$£("^"40  [93/631]  While the appearance of this sort of passage may in itself suggest quotation, in many instances there is additional evidence in the words and/or punctuation — such as "having ear," "mentioned" and "saith."  Just as obvious as ideograms and hieroglyphs are the graphic representations of signs. The lines representing the edges of the signs, for obvious reasons, isolate and point dramatically to the texts within those drawn borders. They suggest quotation not just of words, but of words in situ. In one instance, a sign is quoted, with frame and even hanging wire visible:  30  Conscious Quotation  And then they go to the Calpe (Lyceo)  NO MEMBER OF T H E MILITARY OF W H A T E V E R R A N K IS P E R M I T T E D W I T H I N T H E W A L L S O F THIS C L U B [22/103]  In another example, the words are marked by double quotation marks and framed by a triangle; in this instance, the quoted material consists of a text originally set on a pyramid:  These words I read on a pyramid, written in English and Hebrew.  [34/171]  The triangle obviously suggests the pyramid and adds emphasis to a message already made emphatic by capitalization. Moreoever, the double quotation marks appearing inside the triangle make it impossible to ignore the fact that this particular message is quoted.  31  Conscious Quotation  The final graphemic feature that contributes to the marking of quotation is typography. Changes in fonts generally serve to complement the effects of the other features that mark quotation. Italics alone, for example, do not clearly signal quotation, although they may suggest or emphasize it. For example, That Alessandro was negroid. And Malatesta Sigismund: Frater tamquam Et compater carissime: tergo [8/28] Here the italics, together with the arrangement of the words and the colon, serve to make the text of Sigismundo's letter appear separate and distinct. In other situations, italics simply occur with the non-English words: That is, the day they said: "Drusiana is to marry Count Giacomo..." (Piccinino) un sorriso malizioso. Drusiana, another of Franco Sforza's; [10/43] For some readers, the italics here may suggest quotation, or even quotation within quotation, but not necessarily.  In such situations, italics may simply underscore the  fact that the material is in a language other than English, the primary language of the poem.  In a similar fashion, capital letters usually function in conjunction with other marking features to identify quotation. They appear in a number of situations, often within quoted texts, in ways which help to emphasize the quoted material or the  32  Conscious Quotation  quotation process, rather than actually framing or announcing the process. Et:  INTEREA PRO GRADIBUS BASILICAE S. PIETRI EX ARIDA MATERIA INGENS PYRA EXTRUITUR IN CUJUS SUMMMITATE IMAGO SIGISMUNDI COLLOCATUR HOMINIS LINEAMENTA, ET VESTIMENTI MODUM ADEO PROPRIE REDDEMS. UT VERA MAGIS PERSONA, [10/43]  3  This passage is thirteen lines long, and is marked before and after by a full line of ellipses. A t the end of the passage, in italics (upper and lower case), the sources are given, complete with page numbers: Com. Pio II, Liv. VII, p. 85 Yriarte, p. 288. The capitalization has the effect of setting the material apart from the surrounding text, much more than just the ellipses and the italicized notes would.  Capital letters also occur frequently in single words and names, especially in the Chinese Cantos. For example: " T A I T S O N G " [54/286] or " A G A I N S T Europe and Xtianity" [60/330]. In these examples, there is emphasis, but not necessarily quotation. It is when they appear in conjunction with other quotation markers that they draw attention to the quotation process and contribute to the framing or marking effects.  33  Conscious Quotation  The visual cues mentioned are not the only textual features that frame and mark quotation. In many places, there are verbal and linguistic features that achieve similar effects. The most obvious such features are speech predicators, such as "said." Speech predicators appear very frequently throughout The Cantos, as verbs of utterance and song, as well as those of listening and reading. Those predicators appear in their usual forms as well as abbreviated forms ("sd", for example), and sometimes other languages. Quotations throughout The Cantos are identified as uttered and/or heard, with utterance and audition having equal value in the quotation process. In addition, the original speaker, original text or original situation are often identified explicitly, often implicitly. In some cases, explicit reference is made to the quotation process: the phrase "End quote," for example, appears several times as an aside in Canto 86.  The appearance of different languages, while not necessarily giving a clear signal for quotation, can increase a general awareness of quotation and contribute to a general sense of quotation. When quotations are presented in different languages, along with unusual or extra line and word spacings, quotational punctuation, or speech predicators, the language changes emphasize the effects of the other markers. Sometimes the substance of quotations in other languages is not readily accessible for a reader; the form of those passages, however, is recognizable. Indeed, in quotations  34  Conscious Quotation  involving languages other than English, the quotation markers may be the only features that a reader can recognize, and the quotation process the only immediately comprehensible aspect of the text.  In addition to other languages, quotations in The Cantos often involve different dialects of English, presented in semi-phonetic form. Such passages function quite differently from those in languages other than English. The semi-phonetic texts nearly always represent or signal quotation and/or dialogue, whether accompanied by other quotation markers or not. Most often, such passages also involve unusual arrangement and spacing, syllabic hyphenation, and various punctuation marks that signal quotation: By the side of the summit, and he said: "I have broken the horn, bigod, I have "Broke the best ivory, l'olofans." And he said:  [20/91]  In this case, along with the semi-phonetic representation there is indentation, quotation marks, and the speech predicator "said." A more obvious example occurs in Canto 77: and ceased with a rumpus of glassware (unbreakable as it proved) and with the enquiry: W O T I Z Z A C O M I N ' ? " I ' l l tell you wot izza comin' Sochy-lism is a-comin'  [77/464]  The hyphenation in this passage separates some of the syllables, emphasizing the  35  Conscious Quotation  semi-phonetic qualities of the lines, and thus pointing to speech. In addition, the line spacing and quotation marks frame the quoted text. Such spacing and hyphenation is taken to an extreme in some cases: & Suvitch a century plus 20 years later: "d- d- d- dina- mite! sssi si d-ddinamite!  [94/633]  Transcriptions like this might seem like little more than textual oddities were it not for the fact that they invariably occur in conjunction with quotation, and particularly in conjunction with clearly marked quotation.  The final verbal characteristic of the text that contributes to the marking of quotation is the indirect reference to sources, speech and/or the quotation process itself. This kind of reference sometimes involves simple mention of voices or speech, "murmur of old men's voices" [2/6], for example. Such references are not necessarily directed at the speakers of the quoted material, rather at the voices attendant on the substance or nature of that material. They may also involve some sort of dialogue with the original speaker of the words, as with the direct addresses to Divus and Browning in the first two cantos:  "Lie quiet Divus" [1/5] and "Hang it all,  Robert Browning" [2/6]. On the other hand, these references may involve an appeal or address to a character in the source text, or to a character belonging to the  36  Conscious Quotation  situation of the original text. For example, Cadmus: "Hear me. Cadmus of Golden Prows!" [4/13].  The quoted material addressed in this study will not include all quotation in The Cantos. Quoted material that is not marked as quotation, for example, will not be discussed. In such examples the quotation process is invisible or unrecognizable, even if the text is familiar and thus obviously borrowed. Such material would necessarily be dealt with in a study of quotation sources, or a study of the substance of quotations in The Cantos.*  On the other hand, some material that is not actually  quotation may be included because it is marked as such. The fact that it is not true quotation (that is, the words are fictional or altered, for example), is not at issue; what counts is that it appears and functions as quotation. The same applies to some of the dialogue, which may or may not actually be quoted.  37  Conscious Quotation  1.  The OED offers this definition: Quote: to copy out or repeat (a passage, statement, etc.) from a book, document, speech, etc., with some indication that one is giving the words of another (unless this would otherwise be known); to write down, to make a note or record of, to set down, mention in writing (obs); to bring forward, adduce, allege, cite as an instance of or as being something.  2. Those attributive phrases are aligned with the right margin, suggestive of a signature on a letter, which adds to the space around the text. 3. This passage is actually set in small caps, which cannot be reproduced exactly in this document. This fact does not affect the basic points made. The visual impact is perhaps slightly less than it would be if regular caps were used, but only slightly. 4. For example, the work of Carroll F . Terrell, A Companion to the Cantos of Ezra Pound (1980 & 1984), and of Frederick Sanders, John Adams Speaking: Pound's Sources for the Adams' Cantos (1975).  38  CHAPTER THREE Vortices and Transcendent Forces  A quotation is not an excerpt. A quotation is a cicada. It is part of its nature never to quiet down. Once having got hold of the air, it does not release it. (Mandelstam 7)  39  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  "To quote a text involves the interruption of its context" says Walter Benjamin, in his discussion of "quotable gestures," in "What is Epic Theater?" (151). This may seem a simple observation, but Benjamin was interested in more than superficial characteristics; he was concerned with the structural elements and rhetorical function of quotation: . . . interruption is one of the fundamental devices of all structuring. It goes beyond the sphere of art. To give only one example, it is the basis of quotation. ("Epic Theater" 151) Benjamin looked at quotation as a force in the text and a structural device, not merely as a quality of content and text. Indeed, he is one of the few twentieth-century critics to look seriously at the modern function of quotation.  At the heart of Benjamin's approach lies his belief that, in Hannah Arendt's words, "the break in tradition and loss of authority which occurred in his lifetime were irreparable" ("Introduction," Illuminations 38). Hannah Arendt suggests that Benjamin had discovered . . . that the transmissibility of the past had been replaced by its citability and that in place of its authority there had arisen a strange power to settle down, piecemeal, in the present and to deprive it of 'peace of mind,' the mindless peace of complacency. ("Introduction" 38) In these terms, quotation no longer serves to preserve or enshrine the past, or to lend authority to the present. Instead, it functions with the force "to cleanse, to tear out of  40  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  context, to destroy" (Schriften II 192, qtd. by Arendt, "Introduction" 39). A similar view is shared by Jacques Derrida: "a written sign carries with it a force that breaks with its context" ("Signature Event Context" 182).  That breaking force makes quotation possible, makes it possible to take a statement out of "the collectivity of presences organizing the moment of its inscription"; and at the same time the process also imbues quotation with certain powers: Every sign, linguistic or non-linguistic, spoken or written . . . in a small or large unit, can be cited, put between quotation marks; in so doing it can break with every given context, engendering an infinity of new contexts in a manner which is absolutely illimitable. ("Signature Event Context" 182) Like Benjamin, Derrida sees that breaking or interruptive force as a fundamental element of structure. He suggests that one can "recognize other possibilities" in a particular text "by inscribing it or grafting it onto other chains." Which is to say, he sees in the "force de rupture" something which is "not an accidental predicate but the very structure of the written text" ("Signature Event Context" 182). This force is not restricted to written signs, and occurs in oral traditions as well. For the Igbo people of Nigeria, for example, quoting has an extremely important role in their daily life. In a study of their "quoting behaviour," Joyce Penfield points out that the behaviour involves "third party intrusion" (18).  Her study relies heavily on the earlier work of  41  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  Jan Mukafovsky, whose comments about quotation resemble those of Benjamin; he suggests that "quotes stand out in the 'context' and also merge with it" and that quoting involves a "foreign subject" intruding into the context, "third-party intrusion" (Penfield 17).  In a long study of quotation, Antoine Compagnon investigates the function of quotation in much the same terms: "Lorsque je cite, j'excise, je mutile, je preleve" (17). For Compagnon, "la citation: elle n'a pas de sens hors de la force qui l'agit, qui la saisit, l'exploite et l'incorpore" (38). Benjamin went even further, declaring that quotations do more than just break or mutilate, that they have the power and force to act upon the new text, upon the audience: in his own works, they "are like robbers by the roadside who make an armed attack and relieve an idler of his convictions" (Schriften I 571; qtd. by Arendt, "Introduction" 38).  In Benjamin's terms, quotations are not simply used or accumulated by the borrower, and their role in a new context is not a subordinate one. Quotation, he says, "summons the word by its name, wrenches it destructively from its context, but precisely thereby calls it back to its origin" (One Way Street 286).  They possess  force of their own and have an interactive rather than supportive relationship with the surrounding text. Benjamin's view of quotation is summarized by Hannah Arendt, in  42  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  her introduction to Illuminations: In this form of "thought fragments," quotations have the double task of interrupting the flow of the presentation with "transcendent force" (Schriften I, 142-143) and at the same time of concentrating within themselves that which is presented. (39; emphasis added) For Benjamin, it is that "transcendent force" combined with the ability to concentrate the things presented that makes quotation interruptive. Similar views about the contrary forces of destruction and creation are found in Pound's work, but he places those forces in history. "We find," he suggests, "two forces in history: one that divides, shatters, and kills, and one that contemplates the unity of the mystery" ("Visiting Card," SP 306).  For Pound, unifying or concentrating forces involve condensation. Not only does he adopt Bunting's description of poetry as "dichten = condensare," using the equation for the final chapter heading in Section One of ABC of Reading (1934), but he also reiterates and translates the expression in " A Visiting Card" (1942). The sentiment appears again in Guide to Kulchur (1938), in both the opening and closing sections. He titles the final chapter "Condensare" and quotes a comment by T . E . Hulme — because he "should like to conserve [it]" — " A l l a man ever thought would go onto a half sheet of notepaper. The rest is application and elaboration" (quoted in GK 369).  1  Guide to Kulchur opens with a statement about condensare, a passage  43  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  quoted and translated from The Analects — Said the Philosopher: You think that I have learned a great deal, and kept the whole of it in my memory? Sse replied with respect: Of course. Isn't that so? It is not so. I have reduced it all to one principle. (GK 15) In addition, the notion of "condensare" is evident in Pound's three principles for poetry, the second of which urges the poet to "use absolutely no word that does not contribute to the presentation" ("Retrospect," LE 3).  2  Pound's insistence on the  concentration of ideas is reflected even in his own comments about Cantos 52 to 71: "Nobody can summarize what is already condensed to the absolute limit" (letter to Laughlin, 1940; qtd. in Stock 480).  3  Examples of "condensare" fill The Cantos, and in many instances they involve quoted material. Abbreviations evoke whole words; fragments of texts call to mind whole texts; titles suggest complete works; and names allude to the lives of certain figures, particular places and/or entire stories. For example: sd implies said; "Omnia" calls to mind "Omnia quae sunt lumina sunt," while the first word of Pindar's Olympian Ode — "Anaxiforminges" — suggests the whole; and Helen (along with all the variants) invokes the entire story of the Trojan War. A l l the ideas that are condensed point back out to various sources and associations; the text may be reduced to the absolute limit, the reading is not.  44  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  The interrupting nature of quotation is even more evident throughout The Cantos than the element of concentration. Donald Davie points out that Pound "leaves the original documents to stand out as foreign objects embedded in the poem" (125). He cites Pound's translation of Cavalcanti's "Donna mi pregha" as an example, suggesting that it is "lodged in the center of the Cantos, a hard nugget of foreign matter" (140). And indeed it is not difficult to find many other examples of objects lodged in the poem — letters, poems, conversations, historical texts, music, and songs. Quotations can remain as foreign objects in part because the quoted materials often appear in their original form, as Jacob Korg explains: He takes pains to preserve (or, in a trompe-l'oeil reversal, to imitate) the details and peculiarities of his originals, a practice which accounts for such oddities as dates, abbreviations, foreign phrases, fractions and other typographical devices not normally found in poetry. ("Collage" 98) Such practices ensure that quotations do not blend into the surrounding text.  Instead  the forms attract attention to the quoted material, and can be distracting or even frustrating for the reader. Max Nanny points out: One of the most characteristic aspects of his method of quotation is his habit of rendering someone's authentic words (frequently in pseudo-phonetic transcription) or of copying a text in the original language . . . [an] irritating if not infuriating habit. ("Oral Roots" 381) That "infuriating habit," together with the habit of preserving "peculiarities of the originals," accounts for many of the interruptive qualities of quotation in The Cantos.  45  Vortices and Transcendent  Forces  However, there are often additional features not found in the original form of the quoted text, which set off or mark the quoted material in its new context. The various features work in combination to draw attention to the boundaries or seams between quoted material and context, also to the foreign nature of the object cited and so embedded in the poem.  The combined forces of destruction/interruption and creation/concentration emerge frequently in The Cantos, particularly with quoted passages, and the results are often complex and multi-dimensional. The wrenching/collision of the "Nekuia" in Canto I, for example, involves not only the original Greek and Pound's twentiethcentury summons — "Lie quiet Divus . . . out of Homer", but also Georgius Dartona's version — "cypri munimenta sortita est" — and Andreas Divus' translation — "In officina Wecheli, 1538" — as well as the anglo-saxon alliterative rhythms and split lines of The Seafarer — "Heavy with weeping, and winds from sternward." On one hand, the focus is on Odysseus' journey to the land of the dead, the origins of the quoted material, and certain elements of that journey are 'concentrated' in the passage; on the other hand, the various voices interrupt and wrench that tale again and again, from the original and various subsequent contexts.  For Benjamin, the meeting and tension that occur between context and origin  46  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  constitute the essential force of quotation: "In quotation the two realms — of origin and destruction — justify themselves before language. And conversely, only where they interpenetrate — in quotation — is language consummated" ("Karl Kraus" 286). Benjamin's uses the language of sexuality — interpenetrate (durchdringen) and consummated (vollendei) — giving to language in general, particularly to quotation, a visceral force. A s with the consummations in the sexuality of flowers, insects and animals, there is in this language a force with which something is destroyed and something created, in the same moment. Something akin to the energy of the oak knotted in the acorn. Hence the sense that Benjamin's own quotations are roadside robbers, stealing the convictions of idle readers. In this quotation process, words manifest their power, separating from their original situations and so destroying the original contexts. The process is on one hand destructive, tearing apart the original piece; yet, pointing towards the original, the process also regenerates the text, provoking new perceptions. Only when both these things occur is language consummated, realized (vollendei). In other words, consummation in Benjamin's terms cannot occur with the simple presentation of new text: it requires that the creative force occur in conjunction with the force that destroys, robs and collides.  These concepts of language consummated, concentrated, and interrupted resemble in some respects Pound's notions of image and vortex. Vortex, so crucial to  47  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  the sculpture of Gaudier-Brzeska, the art of Wyndham Lewis, the imagism of Pound, H . D . and Aldington, is defined by Pound, in Blast 1, as the "point of maximum energy" (153). Vortex "purges" those external scenes or actions that are seized by emotion, purges them "of all save the essential or dominant or dramatic qualities" ("Affirmations," SP 375). than an idea . . .  Image, as Pound defined it for imagist poetry, "is more  [it is] a vortex or cluster of fused ideas and is endowed with  energy" ("Affirmations," SP 375).  Thus Benjamin and Pound share a desire for  language to concentrate, to contain and release energy, and to renew. For Benjamin that occurs in quotation, for Pound in image and vortex, which in turn involve ideogram, word and sound. In a letter to Katue Kitasono: "At any rate, I need ideogram. I mean I need it in and for my own job, but I also need sound and phonetics" (1940, Letters 347).  At least part of the reason that the forces of quotation are so obvious in The Cantos rests in the visibility of quoted material and of the quotation process. As outlined in Chapter 2, quotations throughout The Cantos are marked by a variety of visual cues, including the unusual arrangement of quoted material on the page; changes in orthography, diction or language; traditional and unusual punctuation marks; speech predicators; graphics, ideograms and hieroglyphics; phrases that indirectly attribute quoted words to a particular speaker or author; explicit and  48  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  indirect references to the quotation process; and indirect references to citation or speech. For Antoine Compagnon, such visible quotation follows in a very old tradition of cutting and pasting: "citer, c'est repeter la geste archaique du decoupercoller"  . . . l'experience originelle du papier, avant que celui-ci ne soit la surface d'inscription de la lettre, le support du texte manuscrit ou imprimd, un mode de la signification et de la communication linguistique. (34)  And for Hugh Kenner, Pound's treatment of quoted material simply is collage. Describing a passage from Canto 3 that is full of quotation, he says simply, "This is collage, another cubist strategy" (Era 143).  Collage indeed. According to Heinrich F. Plett, in "The Poetics of Quotation," As there is a multiplication of quotations, so there is also a multiplication of contexts. The structural result of this procedure can be termed collage. (70) Indeed, The Cantos are peppered with unusual line and word spacings, syllabic hyphenation, changes in font styles and sizes, graphics, ideograms, hieroglyphics, abbreviations — all features that visually draw attention to those foreign objects embedded in the text. And as several critics have observed, this approach to quotation has its roots in part in the collage techniques of the visual arts. Even for a reader who is only minimally aware of the quotation process, or for a reader unaware  49  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  of the sources of the quoted material, the physical appearance of the material throughout The Cantos suggests collage.  The final lines of the first published draft of Canto 1 reveal Pound's awareness of the drive to use the visual arts, instead of (or as well as) music, as a source and basis for the shaping of verse: The new world about us: Barred lights, great flares, new form, Picasso or Lewis, If for a year man write to paint, and not to music (Poetry June 1917: 121) At the same time, however, he was defining both melopoeia and phanopoeia, urging the imagist poet to write in the sequence of the musical phrase, and not to the rhythm of the metronome. Still there is a lot of evidence, as Marjorie Perloff points out, to demonstrate "the enormous general influence of collage in the graphic and verbal arts and to the effect of Marinetti's style on Pound's prosody" (Indeterminacy 72). What visual artists of the period were doing with physical objects of the real world, setting them in and against their personal images, Pound would do with excerpts from documents and fragments of conversations, both real and imaginary. And the effects are similar in both media.  The aspects of collage that are the most significant for quotation are the presence of foreign object and the collision that occurs between such objects and the  50  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  host piece. Describing the "foreign object" in visual collage, Picasso says, "This displaced object has entered a universe for which it was not made, and where it retains, in measure, its strangeness" (quoted in Gilot & Lake 77). Max Ernst describes the collage process as "the fortuitous encounter upon a non-suitable plane of two mutually distant realities" (21).  4  And according to Marcel Jean, "unexpected  juxtaposition between objects which are in themselves banal" makes collage (40).  For  written texts, on the other hand, Compagnon says that "le citation est un corps Stranger" (31).  But collage produces more than emphasis on strangeness or fortuitous  encounters; for it generates what Georges Hugnet calls "unexpected, arbitrary beauty," and what William C . Seitz calls "a disquieting beauty."  5  Korg explores these various theories of collage in his essay, "The Dialogic Nature of Collage in The Cantos." He begins by summarizing and synthesizing the various definitions, and by identifying "the definitive feature of collage" as the "introduction of some element of the external world into a work of art" ("Collage" 96). He uses Canto 89 as an example: . . . the text is interrupted by the half-line "Obit Picabia 2 Dec. '53." . . . inserted in bare, notational language, as though the fact speaks for itself. Appearing where it does, in the middle of a passage dealing with some of the economic and political problems of nineteenth-century America, it protrudes abruptly through the fabric of discursive language, generating the sort of collision which is the essence of collage. ("Collage" 100)  51  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  The obituary notice is one of those elements of the external world, and its introduction in a form that is suggestive of the original is what generates a collision. It is when quotations have such force, when they act as eruptions of raw reality, that they become something more than objects borrowed or used by the author of the new context. In Benjamin's terms, they become roadside robbers, and move with transcendent force. Korg also takes the argument one step further, claiming that quotations "resist integration": The literary equivalent of the painter's collage is, of course, quotation — not conventional quotation, but the kind that presents itself as an interpolation, interrupting the text, even conflicting with the writer's purpose, as if it were an eruption of raw reality. ("Collage" 96) Consequently, quotations create "the impression that they stand in opposition to their contexts — projecting the jarring, grotesque, arbitrary quality of the collage" ("Collage" 98). In  donnee in a  The Cantos, quotations regularly create this sense of the  donnee.  As jarring and grotesque objects, interpolating and fragmentary quotations do more than simply stand in opposition to the rest of the text. Their force is not only that of the  donnee, the borrowed object. Rather, this type of "interpolated collage  element," Korg argues, "is not felt as a noun, an illustration of a theme, or a subject of comment, but as a verb, projecting meanings peculiar to itself, making predications  52  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  of its own" ("Collage" 106). In the same vein, linguists like Roland Barthes have been developing theories of language that address the dynamic process and not just static objects: "Words are no longer mistaken for instruments, they shoot forth like projections, explosions, vibrations, machineries, flavours" sense that quotations  (Legon 20). It is in this  "present themselves as fragments of the outside world" and  interrupt "with transcendent force" — they  resist, conflict, project, erupt; and  "generate [a] sort of collision."  If taken as "transcendent force," making predications and concentrating "within themselves that which is presented," quotations can then also function as Pound's vortex: a "point of maximum energy" overall notions of poetry:  (Blast 1 153). Vortex is essential to Pound's  melopceia, "wherein the words are charged, over and above  their plain meaning"; phanopceia, "a casting of images upon the visual imagination"; and  logopceia, "that dance of the intellect among words" which . . . employs words not only for their direct meaning, but take count in a special way of habits of usage, of the context we expect to find with the word, its usual concomitants, of its known acceptances, and of ironical play. ("Read," LE 25)  This concern for the habits of usage, context and known acceptances of words is especially significant considering the extent and manner in which Pound quotes  throughout The Cantos.  53  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  Giving due consideration to melopceia, phanopoeia and logopoeia, quotations in The  Cantos  work much in the way that Pound would have the vortex/image in poetry: It is the presentation of such a "complex" instantaneously which gives that sense of sudden liberation; that sense of freedom from time limits and space limits; that sense of sudden growth, which we experience in the presence of the greatest works of art. ("Retrospect," LE 4)  Insofar as quotations in  The  Cantos  concentrate ideas, and at the same time point in  many directions, they function very much as a vortex/image complexes.  Moreover,  they honour and yet challenge the voices of those quoted.  When there is as much quotation as there is in  The  Cantos,  indeed when  quotation is ubiquitous in a text — with borrowings from both oral and written texts, real and fictional; accurate and deliberately altered; quotations within quotations — there is constant play of quoted texts, collision, roadside robbers, and frequent eruptions of raw reality, instantaneous complexes.  Above all, where the quoted  material in the poem is clearly marked and visible, quotations point repeatedly and emphatically to the power and the orality of the living voices.  In some instances, the interruptive force of quotation is such that the narrator of the Cantos addresses the author directly: — "Lie quiet Divus" [1/5], "Hang it all, Robert Browning" [2/6]. In the first example, the reference is to a text that is a  54  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  fragment of the outside world, in two respects: first, the quotation comes from the Latin  Odyssey of Andrea Divus; secondly, as Pound himself explains, the book was  itself a sort of found fragment, "picked from the Paris quais" ("Early Translators,"  LE 259). So both the quoted material and the physical book were objets trouvis. 6  And the text of that particular found object is far more than simple fragment,  donnee.  The direct addresses to Divus and Browning, authors of the quoted material, add to the text a sense of live voice, of actual authorial presence, and also generate a sense of conflict between that original author and the narrator of the material in the new context.  But there is even more to this particular quotation. Pound translated Divus' Latin not simply into English, but into a form of English that uses the words of modern English, along with the alliterative and rhythmic qualities of the Old English poem,  The Seafarer. In this context, there could be several reasons for telling Divus  to lie quiet. He might protest this treatment of his work, an ironic twist as Divus was in his turn translating Homer. Or his voice and/or spirit could intrude into the new version, in spite of the differences in both the form and the language used. Or perhaps it is just reassurance, letting Divus know that his name and his work will be preserved in this new form by virtue of the quotation process. Whatever the case,  55  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  this type of exchange involves strong intertextual interference between the various sources quoted and the text which the quotation interrupts.  In terms of modern theories of intertextuality, all aspects of the force or collision of Pound's quotational process involve "interference of codes." Heinrich F. Plett explains that interference of codes occurs with quotations when they differ in form from their contexts in any one of a variety of ways: when quotation and context . . . differ with regard to language, dialect, sociolect, register, spelling, prosody, etc. In these cases we speak of interlingual, diatopic, diastratic, diatypic, graphemic, prosodical, etc. interference. ("Poetics of Quotation" 71) Quotations and their contexts differ in these various regards throughout  The Cantos,  with the various features drawing attention to quoted materials and to the varying qualities of strangeness, displacement, foreign-ness. Indeed, Plett even uses quotations in  The Cantos as examples: "Codal interferences of the interlingual and  graphemic kinds are often employed in Ezra Pound's  Cantos, where quotations from  foreign literatures are rendered in the characters of their original languages, e.g. in Greek letters or Chinese ideograms" ("Poetics of Quotation" 71). And examples of the other kinds of interference are also plentiful. In Canto 1, "we are made to realize," as Victor L i points out, that the text is "a translation of a translation, that is to say, a displacement inscribed in a series of textual displacements. Process and  56  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  intertextuality are thus closely related" ("Rhetoric of Presence" 297).  The forms of  interference outlined by Plett are reinforced or emphasized when the surrounding text points to those differences, and/or comments explicitly on the process that creates those differences (such as, translation).  The interruptive qualities of quotation, or the degree of interference generated by a quotation, are determined in large part by the form in which a given quotation is presented. That is, the form of a quotation can either attract attention to its otherness, and emphasize the interruption, or can downplay those qualities that distinguish quotation, and minimize any interruptive effects. Essentially, the more visible a quotation, the more it will seem like fragment or "foreign object," and the greater the sense of interruption. Throughout  The Cantos, the many varied forms of  quotations, most of which involve visual/textual markings, tend to make them highly visible, and to emphasize the process of interruption.  The sense of interruption, or an "interference of codes," is created and/or emphasized by or through the presentation of quotations, through quotational markers and the visual appearance of quoted material: 1.  arrangement of material on the page (indentation, line spacing, etc.);  2.  various traditional and unusual punctuation markings (not just quotation marks);  57  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  3.  orthography (Greek, Chinese);  4.  changes in language or diction;  5.  typography (changes in font sizes and typefaces);  6.  attributive phrases, speech predicators and/or performative verbs;  7.  oblique references to speech;  8.  direct reference to the quotation process;  9.  shifts in content, tone, and/or voice; and  10.  differences in prosody.  These various markers all contribute to a sense of otherness and of interruption. Some of these features can work individually; others work collectively and indeed would be scarcely noticeable were it not for a combination of features. As Plett explains, "markers which indicate the occurrence of quotations within the text . . . are of a deictic nature, for they make visible the seams between quotation and context" ("Poetics of Quotation" 71). Such markers point to the process of quotation, the act of employing or introducing quoted material, as well as to the quoted material itself. The more visible the seams, the more interruptive force there is in a quotation.  One of the earliest examples of jarring, interruptive interpolation occurs in the second Canto: And the wave runs in the beach-groove: "Eleanor, eXivavc, and eA.e7rToAic!" And poor old Homer blind, blind, as a bat, Ear, ear for the sea-surge, murmur of old men's voices:  58  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  "Let her go back to the ships, Back among Grecian faces, lest evil come on our own, Evil and further evil, and a curse cursed on our children, Moves, yes she moves like a goddess And has the face of a god and the voice of Schoeney's daughters, And doom goes with her in walking, Let her go back to the ships, back among Grecian voices." [2/6] The interruptive nature of this quotation is emphasized first through the arrangement and form of the quoted material on the page. The line break immediately before the quotation, along with the quotation marks and other punctuation, can all be considered explicit markers. They draw attention to the quoted material, and to the fact that the material is quoted. First, after "beach-groove" — And the wave runs in the beach-groove: "Eleanor, eAevaoc and eA.e7rroA.1c!" and then after "men's voices" — Ear, ear for the sea-surge, murmur of old men's voices: "Let her go back to the ships, The quotation marks work, in combination with the line breaks and the introductory colons, to "make visible the seams between quotation and context" (Plett, "Poetics of Quotation" 71). And in this respect, the marks generate and stress rather than disguise the interference of "frame" and "inset," and increase the sense of interruption.  59  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  In the first line of the quotation, shifts in language and orthography cause what Plett calls interlingual and graphemic interference. This interference is caused by the simple shift from the English name, to its Greek variations. That interference in turn draws attention not only to the quoted material, to frame and inset, but also to "habits of usage," for Eleanor is juxtaposed with e A l v a u c [Helenaus], which means "shipdestroying"; and eA.e7rroA.ic [Heleptolis], which means "city-destroying." These puns on Helen's name, from Aeschylus' Agamemnon, act as fragments of the outside world, retaining their strangeness.  Which in turn enforces the sense that the quotation  is interpolation, "jarring" and resisting integration.  On a less obvious level, the passage contains several oblique references to speech — in the lines that introduce some of the quoted material as well as within the quoted material: "murmur of old men's voices," "a curse cursed on," "voice of Schoeney's daughters," and "back among Grecian voices." These four phrases all suggest the words of others, and imply speech and/or quotation. As implicit markers, these phrases do not necessarily generate interference, but they do reinforce the interference created by other markers, and they also point to the multiplicity of the voices involved.  Finally, shifts in tone, voice and prosody that occur in the passage generate  60  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  forms of interference that Plett labels diastratic and prosodical. Again these shifts emphasize the differences between quoted material and the surrounding text. The first shift: And the wave runs in the beach-groove: "Eleanor, [Helenaus] and [Heleptolis]!" The voice moves from descriptive to invocation, and to exclamation. At the same time, tone and sound qualities change, from the conversational English, to the interlingual play on Helen's name. The pace of the first line is relatively fast and smooth, compared to the second line, where the punctuation along with the Greek words and orthography result in a slower pace. Similar shifts in the pacing occur in lines 13 and 14: Ear, ear for the sea-surge, murmur of old men's voices "Let her go back to the ships, Here the voice shifts from descriptive to direct imperative. In addition, the tone and sound quality shifts, from the sliding and repetitive laterals, nasals, long vowels and fricatives, to the choppy stopped consonants. In the first line, the sounds of the long "e" [e] and the "ur" [AT] are each repeated three times; " m " [m] three times, "s" [s] five times, and "r" [r] five times. Altogether there are nine fricatives, six laterals, and four nasals, but only one stop, all of which contribute to the flowing, gliding sound qualities of the line.  61  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  In contrast, in the second line, there are no long "e" [e] sounds and only one "ur" [AT] sound; only two laterals and three fricatives, and no nasals. However, there are six stops and one aspirated " h " , involving two consonant clusters, all of which necessitate some hesitation. For example, in "Let her" and "back to" there is necessarily some breath between the words, between "t" [t] and " h " [*h] and between the "k" [k] and "t" [t]. In the first pair, the " h " must be aspirated, so that the words do not elide and lose meaning. In the second, the consonant cluster necessitates a slight aural hyphenation to ensure that the words are understood. These qualities of sound contribute to a relatively choppy line. Such prosodical interference would be less perceptible were it not for the more obvious forms of interference discussed earlier. Given the context, however, it helps to underscore the otherness or foreignness of the embedded quotation.  Another example of interruption and interpolation occurs in Canto 4: And by the curved, carved foot of the couch, claw-foot and lion head, an old man seated Speaking in the low drone...: Ityn! Et ter flebiliter, Ityn, Ityn! And she went to the window and cast her down, " A l l the while, the while, swallows crying: Ityn! "It is Cabestan's heart in the dish." "It is Cabestan's heart in the dish? "No other taste shall change this." [4/13]  62  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  As with the first example, the interruptive nature of this quotation is emphasized first by the arrangement and form of the quoted material on the page. Explicit markers include a line break immediately before the quotation, various indentations, a change in the language, particular alignment of the lines, quotation marks, other punctuation, and references to speech.  The line immediately preceding the quoted material ends with ellipses and a colon — an unusual combination — Speaking in the low drone... : The next line, the first of quoted material, is very widely indented, nearly centered in fact, while the second line is set back at the left margin. At the same time, the lines involve a change in language, to Latin: Ityn! Et ter flebiliter, Ityn, Ityn! These features set off the beginning of the quoted material sharply. The ellipses alone might not be particularly interruptive; but, taken together with the colon, and followed by the deep indentation of the next line, they make those "seams between quotation and context" very visible. Once again, the interference between frame and inset is stressed. In the second part of the quoted material, "Ityn" is the only word set at the left  63  Vortices and Transcendent  Forces  margin, while four lines, all punctuated with quotation marks, are indented equally: And she went to the window and cast her down, " A l l the while, the while, swallows crying: Ityn! "It is Cabestan's heart in the dish." "It is Cabestan's heart in the dish? "No other taste shall change this." [4/13] Physical arrangement and punctuation again form visible seams between context and quotation, and help the quoted material to resist integration.  At the same time, prosody, tone and voice add the final elements of interruption, with diastratic and prosodical interference.  In prosody, rhythm moves  from "the curved, carved foot" to " A l l the while, the while" to "It is Cabestan's heart in the dish" — from the slow, punctuated consonantal sounds and clusters of "curved, carved foot," to the repeated laterals, glides of "all the while, the while" to the rhythmic, rhyming final lines "It is Cabestan's heart in the dish . . . No other taste shall change this." Meanwhile, the voice shifts from relatively formal descriptive phrases — And by the curved, carved foot of the couch, claw-foot and lion head, an old man seated Speaking in the low drone... : to an invocatory, exclamatory cry — Ityn! Et ter flebiliter, Ityn, Ityn!  64  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  Immediately following that cry, the voice shifts again, to a narrative statement, "And she went to the window and cast her down," followed by the repetitive, alliterative cry " A l l the while, the while, swallows crying." Finally the voice shifts to the declarative and interrogative voice, in a series of three repetitive statements: "It is Cabestan's heart in the dish." "It is Cabestan's heart in the dish? "No other taste shall change this." These lines too are alliterative and repetitive: the repeated sounds "it" [it], "is" [iz], "in" [in], "st" [st], echo "Itys" and "Ityn," the name of the murdered child; while the "1" [1], " w " [w], and " i " p] sounds evoke the name and cry of the bird, of the rape victim — the swallow, Philomela. This transition occurs in conjunction with the shifts from the surrounding context into the quoted material, and from the myth of Procne and Tereus, to the ancient Celtic legend of Guillems de Cabestanh; from the anguished cry of Procne, turned swallow, mourning both the rape of her sister and the death of her son; to the damning call of Philomela, turned nightingale, who is said to call out the name of Itys; and finally to the refrain for Cabestan.  During the course of these lines, the pace shifts along with the voice. The opening lines are slowed by the diction and the punctuation: And by the curved, carved foot of the couch, claw-foot and lion head, an old man seated Speaking in the low drone... :  65  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  The first line is slowed by a mid-line comma and consonant clusters in "curved^ carved foot." The clusters keep the words from running together; moreover, since the comma occurs in the midst of one of the clusters, the breath or hesitation between those two words is prolonged. The pace remains slow in the second line, as a result of another mid-line comma and the diction. There two compound adjectives, each of which involves a slight breath or aspiration between the first and second semantic units — "claw-foot" and "lion head." The hyphen in "claw-foot" ensures that the adjective is not run together as it might be if it were presented as clawfoot. And in "lion head" the " h " ['h] is aspirated rather than silent, preventing the words from elliding into [ll/aied].  The pace picks up slightly with the conversational phrase, "speaking in the low drone," as there are no consonant clusters, or mid-line punctuation, and many of the words run together courtesy of end or initial vowels. Some slowing occurs with "speaking i n " and "low drone," since both phrases involve slight breath between the words. That slight hesitation occurs partly because of the similarity of sounds — [in] and [in], [5] and [on]; the breath is needed to ensure the separation of each semantic unit for comprehension. With the start of the quoted material, the pace slows down again. That slowing occurs partly as a result of the shift to Latin, and the repetition of the word "Ityn":  66  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  Ityn! Et ter flebiliter, Ityn, Ityn! In addition, the pace of the second line is slowed significantly by two consonant clusters and two mid-line commas. The aspiration and hesitation or rest prompted by these features prevents any quick or elided reading of these lines. A similar pattern occurs in the next two lines, with the pace of the quoted text noticeably slower than that of the introductory line: And she went to the window and cast her down," " A l l the while, the while, swallows crying:" The first of these lines flows relatively quickly, partly because most of the vowels are short, and partly because several pairs of words run together; the second line, in contrast, is interrupted by two mid-line commas, and slowed by consonant clusters, several long vowels that are prolonged by sonorants, and repetition of the phrase "the while." In the final lines of this passage, the pace picks up once again. "It is Cabestan's heart in the dish." "It is Cabestan's heart in the dish? "No other taste shall change this." The first two lines are the same, except for the slight qualitative and quantitative differences caused by the question mark. The last line is slightly shorter, yet has roughly the same quantitative length. In other words, the last line has only seven  67  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  syllables (compared to nine in the previous two lines), but several of those syllables have slightly longer duration.  The long vowels of " N o " and "taste", for example, have slightly longer duration that the short vowels of "it" and "-bes-". The difference in stresses also affects the duration of syllables. The first two lines, for example, end with an anapest, "in the dish"; in contrast, the last line ends with three spondees III  " / —  — "shall change  this." The stress pattern combines with the elision to allow the final three syllables of the first two lines to move much more quickly than the last three syllables of the final line. Moreover, the repetition of the lines, along with the recurrence of several sounds in the final line, makes the rhythm of the final lines strong and pronounced. A l l these features emphasize the separation or seaming between these lines of quoted material and the surrounding text, pointing again to the differences and to the sense of interruption.  Inasmuch as quotation is interruption, it is a fundamental device of all structuring, in terms set forth by Benjamin, Derrida, Barthes and others. At the same time, inasmuch as it is vortex, in terms set out by Pound, Fenellosa and the imagist/vortex movement, it works as points of maximum energy. Consequently, quotation can also be considered a basic structural element of  68  The Cantos.  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  Interruption through quotation is one of the features that makes incidents in The  Cantos come alive, that creates "an eyewitness effect" (Quinn, "Metamorphoses" 81). The structural aspects of quotation are heightened by the oral qualities, how it works for ear. The poem and the quotations are highly visual, and yet perhaps the strongest appeal of the text is to the ear.  69  Vortices and Transcendent Forces  1. The terms "dichten" and "condensare" (and variations) appear in several places in Pound's work, including Guide to Kulchur and several of his essays. In " A Visiting Card" he offers this explanation, by way of definition: "The German word Dichtung means 'poetry'. The verb dichten—condensare" (SP 327). By using "Condensare" for the title on the final passage in the final passage of Guide to Kulchur (369), Pound acknowledges his debt to Hulme and at the same time demonstrates the significance of the idea in his work. 2. He reiterates this idea later in the same essay: "use no superfluous word, no adjective which does not reveal something" ("Retrospect," LE 4). 3. This comment was made in a letter to James Laughlin, February 1940, in response to the suggestion that he should add a preface. He also described those Cantos, in the same letter, as "a N E W thing" and "plain narrative with chronological sequence" (qtd. in Stock 480). 4.  Also quoted in Seitz,  5.  Quoted in Seitz (40).  Dada,  6.  Surrrealism  Art  of Assemblage  44.  Hugnet's remark is quoted in Alfred H . Barr, Jr.,  Fantastic  (45).  In the essay, "Early Translators of Homer," Pound explains: I picked from the Paris quais a latin version of the Odyssey by Andreas Divus Justinopolitanus . . . [and] lost a Latin Iliads for the economy of four francs, these coins being at that time scarcer with me than they ever should be with any man of my tastes and abilities. (LE259)  70  Art,  CHAPTER FOUR  Cicadas and the Live Phrase  "There must be some other way for a human being to make use of that vast cultural heritage." (GK 53-54) "To have gathered from the air a live tradition" "The cicadas continue uninterrupted."  71  [29/143]  [81/522]  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  Many of the features of quotation that make it function as interruption, that generate an interference of codes, also draw attention to the oral qualities of the material — to its spokenness, to the fact that it is speech. Although Pound wrote often about the importance of live speech, very little of the voluminous criticism about  The Cantos considers this element extensively or in serious critical fashion. In  his brief memoir of Pound, Bill McNaughton, for example, suggests that "Anyone who wants to know what Ezra Pound's conversation was like should read ("Pound: A Brief Memoir" 323).  The Cantos"  While this sort of remark acknowledges  conversation, and its relationship to Pound's work, there is little development from there, particularly with respect to oral forms. This is an unfortunate lack given his concern for intelligent conversation, and his abiding interest in things oral — stress, duration, rhythm.  Pound believed that poetry should "come to life in audition" — "one must 'hear' it in one way or another" ("French Poets," MIN 188).  This statement should also be  considered in light of Pound's interest in the visual — for example, his remarks, already mentioned, about writing to paint for a year ("Three Cantos: I" 121); or his interest in the works of Gaudier-Brzeska, Brancusi, Picabia and Wyndham Lewis; or his fascination with ideograms. Direct treatment of the thing, and at the same time audition. Not surprisingly, the appearance of quotations in The Cantos sometimes  72  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  helps to create a sense of that live speech, injecting life into the text and evoking the presence of the speaker.  As Victor L i observes,  The ritual act of giving blood to ghosts so that they may speak parallels the verbal transfusion given by Pound's translation of the "Nekuia" or "Book of the Dead," the most ancient text in the Odyssey, so that we may understand anew its message. ("Rhetoric of Presence" 297) And apparently Pound's practice of reading and retelling conversations had just that effect of "giving blood to ghosts."  He had a habit of trying out passages while they  were in composition, reciting them before visitors, impromptu audiences, and also a habit of chanting his work, even when alone, with "a kind of chant that sometimes went on for hours, interrupted and picked up again" (de Rachewiltz 46).  1  David Gordon, describing one recital in an interview with Carroll F . Terrell, says that Pound, in the process of re-iterating the text or conversation, would be once again in the situation — "again being," for example, "with cummings at a cafe in Paris among a group of dadaist-surrealist-vorticist artists and writers" ("Meeting E . P . " 352). In that instance, "the incredibly penetrating and sensitive manner in which E P was interpreting and reexpressing the remarks" would create a very powerful sense of living speech: . . . an exact moment in world literary history was not simply vie vecu, but was supremely alive, formative, creating in that moment. It seemed to fit exactly with Peter Goullart's description of Na Khi ceremonies that Pound was so interested in at that time,  73  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  in which a ghost would speak through the voice of a living man. It made your hair rise to hear him bring back the dead. ("Meeting E . P . " 352) Giving blood to ghosts and old texts does more than enable readers to have new understanding — for in evoking  viva voce,  the live man speaking, the process  separates quotations from their original contexts, and at the same time brings them together. Roland Barthes suggests that such ghosts inhabit all voices in a text: "Alongside each utterance, one might say that off-stage voices can be heard: they are the codes; in their interweaving, these voices . . . de-originate the utterance" (S/Z 21). Like Benjamin, Barthes discusses language in terms of its various forces, as agent rather than tool. In blood-fused quotations, the collision of old and new, voice and context, represents yet another aspect of the "double task" attributed to quotation by Walter Benjamin — interruption and concentration.  The importance of the connections between speech (or quotation) and image is evident throughout Pound's works. In his article, "Vorticism" (1914), Pound says that "the image is itself the speech . . . the word beyond formulated language" (GB 88). The following year (1915), he went a step further, suggesting that images and the verbal expressions of image could be strengthened with music, particularly with rhythm: When an energy or emotion "presents an image," this may find  74  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  adequate expression in words. It is very probably a waste of energy to express it in any more tangible medium. The verbal expression of the image may be reinforced by a suitable or cognate rhythm-form and by timbre-form. ("Affirmations," SP 376) In other words, the aural overtones or resonance of the words, and/or their rhythmic units, may strengthen and contribute to an image expressed verbally with suitable rhythm. Furthermore, as Kay Davis points out, "When Pound uses John Adams' words or a quotation from Dante, he is using voice as if it were an image. . . . Both imagery and voice are in this sense an attempt to present the res, the thing itself (63). Jacob Korg points out that "quotations from other texts and records of conversations may be considered objective realities, like material things" ("Collage" 96). While this is process where the quotations present the res or act as objective realities, it does not involve physical objects or the people — "material" and "thing" do not necessarily involve the concrete. Rather, the process involves the atmosphere of moment, the particular emotions, for example, of a given situation or event — the quality of the moment that makes it memorable at all.  Such presentation of things themselves takes us back to collage, and to fragments of the external world protruding or erupting from the work. Where part or all of a physical object might appear in a painting or sculpture, the rhythmical and tonal qualities of an original voice would appear in the poem, bringing with them the  75  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  emotional qualities and atmosphere of the moment. In the absence of particular interpretations or explanations, those qualities of voice are left for the audience to deal with directly. The narrators present those things, and may even provide information about how the text sounds — the pronunciation or syllabic stress of particular words, for instance; but they do not mediate the text. This process of presenting pieces of the real verbal world can roughly approximate the kind of situation that occurs in an oral situation. The listener in any given exchange will not necessarily understand every aspect of a performance or conversation. In those instances, the words operate without particular content, on some other level. For example, with direct verbal exchange . . . we original whether spoken. In  are always confronted with the original words, with the language, whether we understand the language or not, we are given a simultaneous translation of the words ("Oral Roots" 381)  The Cantos, this particular situation occurs frequently, sometimes with translations  following, but usually with little regard for whether or not the audience will understand the language. Paramount is the sense of the presence of the speaker, of the voice itself. The text (that is, the content) comes second, literally sometimes, with translations, transliterations, and other explanations. This is only one of the many senses in which the image itself is the speech.  76  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  The clusters of ideas, fused with energy, that are central to the theories of imagism and vorticism occur often in quotations in  The  Cantos.  Context and  quotation, voice and setting, often stand juxtaposed as the abbreviated elements of an ideogram. At the same time, those elements involve consummations in Benjamin's terms. A n interpenetration of the realms of origin and destruction occurs whenever reiteration destroys the fabric that ties the quotation to its original context, and also enforces the retained strangeness of the original text. Retained strangeness of originals can result both from a cluster of ideas within the quoted material and from the use of a language or dialect that would be natural for the speakers in the original situations. These conditions also contribute to a sense of the live man speaking. In turn, the quality of  viva  voce  makes consummation or vortex seem all the more  immediate, and consequently more powerful.  The live man speaking is especially important for Pound, insofar as he engages in intelligent conversation — the spoken word, with a play of thought. Firstly it contains and presents the culture of a time and place: "The culture of an age is what you can pick up and/or get in touch with, by talk with the most intelligent men of the period" (GK 217).  Secondly, it is a major component of literature: "The better part  of literature is to a great extent made up of 'intelligent' conversation" ("Leaving Out Economics" 331).  Along similar lines, Yeats apparently told Pound that "nothing  77  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  affects these people except our conversation" ("Prose Tradition," LE 371). And Pound quotes this statement in Canto 83.  2  If culture and the better part of literature  depend on the verbal exchange that takes place between intelligent people, then the oral tradition would clearly take precedence over the stacked records in the British Museum.  One of the best summaries of Pound's view of oral transmission appears in his translation of Chu Hsi's Preface, in  The Unwobbling Pivot: "The spirit of this work  comes from the door of Confucius, the heart's law transmitted to pupil, memorized and talked back and forth" (97). is critically revealing: "transmitted  viva voce from master  Pound's choice of words here  viva voce" and "talked back and forth." Voice,  live, involving the active trading or exchange of ideas. This notion also applies to the art of poetry, to the extent that intelligent verbal exchange would be the aim of poetry: We have spent our strength in trying to pave the way for a new sort of poetic art — it is not a new sort but an old sort . . . To write poetry that can be carried as communication between intelligent men. (qtd. in Nanny, "Oral Dimensions" 23) The same point is echoed in  The Cantos: for example, "It was all done by  conversation" [38/189]; "old Ford's conversation was better, / consisting in res non  verba" [82/525]; and, "this is not vanity . . . To have gathered from the air a live  78  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  tradition" [81/522]. And Pound lived this argument, contributing to that live tradition through his radio broadcasts, beginning and ending nearly every speech with the phrase "Ezra Pound speaking."  3  The presence of intelligent conversation as a crucial element or a generating force in literature is only one half of the equation. The other half stipulates that the conversation, in literature, must be convincing and authentic — that it express what Pound refers to as "the heart's law," and that the words be unquestionably natural for a live man  speaking. Pound admired Homer for his "authenticity of conversation" or  "authentic cadence of speech," for instance ("Early Translators," LE 250). He also believed that his own translation of The Analects would achieve "its moderate aim if it gives the flavour of laconism and the sense of the live man speaking" ("Note to  This New Version," The Analects 194).  Authenticity was similarly important in the classical traditions, although more so in the oral traditions of Rabbinic Judaism than in the world of Aristotle or Cicero. The hellenized West developed the art of invention, which involves incorporating and/or recreating the ideas and statements of others, and putting one's own mark on the borrowed material. The speaker in this system gains recognition for the ability to alter effectively the work of others. In ancient Israel, on the other hand, the aim was  79  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  to preserve the original words: " A person's views were conveyed  in his own words.  Authentic statements contained the authority and power. . ." (Gerhardsson 130). Recognition and credibility would depend on a speaker's ability to accurately reiterate and attribute the words of others.  Authenticity of voice is also important for the poet, according to Pound. But in Pound's terms, that authenticity is important for creating a sense of the original speaker, rather than exact re-iteration of the text. In his essay on Remy de Gourmont, he says that this task is a two-pronged challenge for poets:  "The first  difficulty in a modern poem is to give a feeling of the reality of the speaker, the second, given the reality of the speaker, to gain any degree of poignancy in one's utterance" ("de Gourmont," SP 418).  He goes on to say that "you must begin in a  normal, natural tone of voice." In Pound's view, de Gourmont had mastered both of these difficulties, and thus "solved two of the thorniest questions" related to "poetry  of our own time. To demonstrate the point, Pound lists phrases that exemplify the "conversational, ironic, natural tone of the writing" in de Gourmont's prose sonnets ("de Gourmont," SP 418).  Essentially, the reality of the speaker is more important to  Pound than other aspects of traditional poetics.  80  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  The presence of the speaker and her/his situation take priority even over the substance of the material quoted. As Jacob Korg observes, Pound "often seems more interested in establishing a sense of the actual presence of what he is quoting than in emphasizing its relevance to his opinions" ("Collage" 98). Pound's concern for the "actual presence" of the original, Victor L i observes, is demonstrated in part by his tendency to present passages as "anchored in a definite time and place" — "not only through the use of such deictic markers as 'that,' 'those,' 'there' but also through a fidelity to details ('that year,' 'twenty yards o f f ) and a display of local 'colour' ('Dogana,' 'gondola,' 'Buccentoro,' 'Stretti,' 'Morosini')" ( L i , "Presence" 305). This anchoring helps "to verify the actual presence and authority of the narrating T " ("Presence" 305).  It also helps to create a sense of the situation when the original  words were uttered. A similar view of presence is offered by Derrida: . . . context includes a certain "present" of the inscription, the presence of the writer to what he has written, the entire environment and the horizon of his experience, and above all the intention, the wanting-to-say-what-he-means, which animates his inscription at a given moment. ("Signature" 182) Derrida's "present" of the writer and of inscription parallels Pound's notions of live man speaking, actual presence, and the reality of the speaker.  This concern for the presence of the speaker has a parallel in the ancient Rabbinic oral traditions, where there was great care and reverence given to the  81  "ipsissima  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  verba of each authority" such that the words of the masters "were quoted — together with the name of the one who had uttered them" (Gerhardsson 130-31). In this tradition it was extremely important to convey the views of a particular person in their own words: "Authentic statements contained the authority and power of the one who uttered them." For Pound, the authority of the original voice is far less important than its melopoetic power; and that power rests not just in the original text, but in the transmission of a complete sense of the speakers and their situations. This concern moves Pound closer to the oral tradition. A Zuni storyteller, for example, will devote a large portion of a story-performance to quoting the words of the characters, rather than giving third-person reports of actions and scenes. And according to Tedlock, "Even when he does not change his voice qualities for these quotations, they contribute to the appearance of reality through their immediacy" (167). Getting the voices  right is thus important both in terms of what the characters  would say and with respect to how they would say it. Dell Hymes illustrates that point with a story about a translation of a short poem out of the Ojibwa tradition, "Chant to the Fire-Fly" (39-41). The literary translation ignores all aspects of the original voice, presenting the poem in the voice and form of another tradition; the results are understandably bad. Even a rough ethnographic translation  sounds better.  Pound drives to present the original qualities of voices, and to make the voices audible.  82  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  Equally important for the "reality of the speaker" are the aural qualities and cadences of language. As mentioned earlier, Pound urged writers to focus on cadences, over and above meaning: Let the candidate fill his mind with the finest cadences he can discover, preferably in a foreign language, so that the meaning of the words may be less likely to divert his attention from the movement; e.g. Saxon charms, Hebridean Folk Songs, the verse of Dante, and the lyrics of Shakespeare — if he can dissociate the vocabulary from the cadence. Let him dissect the lyrics of Goethe coldly into their component sound values, syllables long and short, stressed and unstressed, into vowels and consonants. ("Retrospect," LE 5) The poet should thus give preference to "sound values" before semantic meaning, the presence of the speaker before the meaning of what he might say.  4  Pound was  interested in a poetics that depended on the musical phrase rather than the metronome, on speech and prose rather than traditional poetic language. He decried what he called "book speech," joining Yeats, and others, in moving away from a tradition in which book language was intended to be very different from the spoken, and where — in the worst situations (from their perspective) — people "loved the speech of books and proposed to make daily speech copy it"; those people "had, presumably, the conviction that the speech of life and of poetry should be the same," and would speak  as they wrote ("Johnson," LE 362). For Pound, people with such convictions were "quixotic." And for the "sort of precision now sought" (in 1915), Pound explains that poets would take quite the opposite approach, aiming to write  83  as they spoke, and  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  striving for "natural speech" or "the language as spoken" — "We desire the words of poetry to follow the natural order. We would write nothing that we might not say actually in life — under emotion" ("Johnson," LE 362).  5  Given Pound's various declarations regarding the importance of conversation, it is not surprising that some critics have attempted to describe or analyze The Cantos in terms of "talk." At one extreme is Allen Tate's view, which reduces The Cantos to "talk, talk, talk; not by anyone in particular to anyone else in particular . . . just rambling talk" ("Pound" 67). It is only surprising that more critics have not focussed on this issue. The difficulty with this kind of analysis is that it treats the quoted texts as idle chatter, or background noise, rather than intelligent conversation, and in turn minimizes the formal aspects of conversation and the quotation process. Indeed, Tate ends up describing The Cantos as "a cunningly devised imitation of casual conversation" ("Pound" 67), an approach which distorts the notion of intelligent conversation, and seems to ignore Pound's own declaration: "It is our generation's job to hammer a few simple truths into the human consciousness . . . in the common tongue . . . into the PEOPLE . . . into folklore, into men's proverbs" (SCAI 6). "Simple truths" which must go "into the common tongue" and "folklore," not into the reading room of the British Museum, require particular listeners, and they imply particular people talking. Conversation under these circumstances would not be  84  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  casual.  For all oral traditions, ancient to the present, stories, proverbs, songs and  poems have acted to preseve the culture. In some of those traditions, conversation is often quite formal, particularly in cases where the forms of storytelling and conversation overlap or interweave. The Quiche" people, for example, have a tradition of "telling a story without leaving the thread of a conversation hopelessly far behind" (Tedlock 14). For other peoples, where the formal characteristics of conversation and storytelling are markedly different, the performer and audience all work together to set up the formal framing for the storytelling act.  As James A . Notopoulos points out, "the poet is the incarnate book of oral peoples" ("Mnemosyne" 69). Those incarnate books clearly existed in classical Greece: as Eric Havelock points out, "Before Homer's day, the Greek cultural 'book' had been stored in the oral memory"; and " A l l human civilizations rely on a sort of cultural 'book,' that is the capacity to put information in storage in order to reuse it" ("Preface" v ) .  6  This tradition represents a more effective system than the  British Museum, from Pound's perspective, since the material is continually presented to the people, and since the poet cannot simply keep accumulating, but must be always selecting the most important or relevant details. As Max Nanny observes,  The Cantos "constitute a kind of poetry that is deeply indebted to the oral poetry of the past" ("Oral Dimensions" 16). The relationship between  85  The Cantos and oral  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  tradition extends beyond that debt to the past. In an unpublished letter to Ronald Duncan, Pound makes a case for the modern oral tradition: "There ought, of course, to exist an oral tradition. I dare say there does" (qtd. in Nanny, "Oral Dimensions" 20). The oral tradition, therefore, is something to be cultivated in the present, and not relegated to the ancient past.  Attendant upon the belief that literature "is to a great extent made up of 'intelligent' conversation," is the notion that written texts should be effective in oral terms. Jean-Michel Rabatd suggests this was the concern of a poet who "had not yet hit upon the availability of radio broadcasts" (87); Pound needed a way to convey his ideas with more force than the written text would allow. In this situation, "an author needs to inject life into the written text, "the author as 'speaker' must add his voice to the latent force or energy of the gramma or written sign" (Rabat£ 87). Voice in the text is something Pound spoke of often; one of the most interesting comments is about Remy de Gourmont's Litanies de la Rose: It is not a poem to lie on the page, it must come to life in audition, or in the finer audition which one may have in imagining sound. One must 'hear' it, in one way or another." ("French Poets" 1918, MIN 188) Two decades later, in A Guide to Kulchur (1938) he says that "The written line stands on paper or parchment or, if good enough, even in the oral tradition" (171). Pound  86  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  valued both authors and texts that were rooted in the oral tradition. In a letter to T.S. Eliot, in February 1940, he praised Frobenius, in comparison with Frazer, for his attention to the oral tradition: "Frazer worked largely from documents. Frob. went to  things, memories still in the spoken tradition, etc. His students had to see and be  able to draw objects"  (Letters 336). From Pound's perspective, Frobenius dealt with  the actual things, even if they were  in memory, because they were kept alive and  immediate by the oral tradition.  In his discussions of Homer, de Gourmont, and Yeats, Pound comments on what they have done with sound, how they have presented the sounds of ocean, song, speaking voice, and so on. The same concerns surface in comments about his own work. In his translation of the "Preface" of  The Unwobbling Pivot, Pound says that  "the spirit of this work comes from . . . the heart's law transmitted  viva voce from  master to pupil" (97).  Confucio: studio  And in the Italian text, in the introduction to  integrale: " C i ha lasciato i l testamento . . . una tradizione orale, venerata dai discepoli" (qtd. in Davenport, "Pound and Frobenius" 40).  7  Pound is dealing, in  each of these instances, with written texts, yet his concern is with the oral, and living speech. In this respect, intelligent conversation is the stuff of the British Museum that people are actually making use of. Ellmann suggests that "History itself must speak from the pages of  The Cantos," and that "While he cuts and pastes his  87  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  documents, Pound conserves their idiom, for the lessons of history can only be induced from a sufficient 'phalanx of particulars'" (245). Ellmann overlooks the importance of voice in this process.  It is voice that will distinguish one lesson from  another, one particular from another, and conversely, it is voice that will link them together.  Pound's commitment to and interest in the oral tradition extends to much more than just issues of audition or the spoken tradition in general. He was intrigued with the specific features of the oral tradition that make it effective:  the particular tellings  or versions of a tale; the verbal form, from morpheme to phoneme; and the original context, or original situation for employing the material — what Alan Dundes, an American folklorist, calls "text," "texture" and "context" respectively. According to Dundes,  text is translatable, while texture is not; and context can be reported or  represented, but not translated ("Texture" 255-6).  In a 1920 essay, "Early Translators of Homer" (19), Pound discusses these same features, using different terms: Of Homer two qualities remain untranslated: the magnificent onomatopoeia, as of the rush of the waves on the sea-beach and their recession in: 7rapa 6 i v a 7roA.1xpA.oi a/Joi o SaAaaanc. untranslated and untranslatable; and secondly, the authentic cadence of speech; the absolute conviction that the words used, let  88  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  us say by Achilles to the 'dog-faced' chicken-hearted Agamemnon, are in the actual swing of words spoken. This quality of actual speaking is not untranslatable. (LE 250) These translatable and untranslatable aspects of poetic texts, the aural texture and authentic cadence, held greater interest and significance for Pound than the more traditional matters of authority and content.  In " A Visiting Card," Pound says that "Only spoken poetry and unwritten music are composed without any material basis, nor do they become 'materialised'" (SP 307). Given Pound's attitude to materialized things, and of course to usury, this comment isolates the oral poetic tradition and unwritten music as well above other forms. Moreover, Pound was clearly aware of the links between contemporary oral forms and  The Cantos. In a letter to his father in 1924, Pound compared Cantos 18  and 19 to radio: "As to Cantos 18-19, there ain't no key. Simplest parallel I can give is radio where you tell who is talking by the noise they make" (Nov. 29 1924, Paige Collection). This comment is relevant not only for the two cantos under discussion, but also for the entire work. It is voice that brings the particulars to life, makes them immediate, and the quality or sound of the voices is one of the major characteristics that distinguishes the type-characters, and others. As Chaim Perelman points out, "for many people, speech is the most characteristic manifestation of the person" (317). The thread of continuity in intelligent conversation runs through  89  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  recurring voices, or voice-character-types.  The recurrences of the characters and  their voices generates a sense of the universal character represented and also links together various events and episodes that those characters appear in. In the Zuni tradition, and others, a narrator frequently presents different characters with voices of different pitch and texture, such as high, whining, rough or rasping (Tedlock). Such qualities of voice add to the vividness and immediacy of the telling and also create patterns of sound that establish connections or echoes between characters or episodes.  Allen Tate's reduction of  The Cantos to "casual conversation" and "rambling  talk" leads him to the conclusion that the form of such a piece cannot be defined — "this form by virtue of its simplicity remains inviolable to critical terms: even now it cannot be technically described" ("Pound" 67). However, Pound's own words clearly indicate that he relied heavily on the many forms inherent in the oral tradition — from the complex structures of the Homeric epic, to those of early Greek rhetoricians, to more modern examples of north European epics, to parliamentary debate, to all forms of song, to contemporary forms of oral communication, such as radio, and even to forms of conversation.  8  Pound's abiding interest in the oral tradition was, in part, a reaction against written language: "What's the use of writing?" he once asked in a letter to Floyd  90  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  Dell (1910, "Two Early Letters" 117).  Pound often expressed his frustration and  dissatisfaction with written language and forms, as well as with the sheer volume of extant literature. In an early poem, "The Eyes," he lamented the mass of printed material: Free us, for we perish In this ever-flowing monotony Of ugly print marks, black Upon white parchment (Personae 35) But Pound wanted to do more than just "save eye effort"  9  (Letters 332). His concern  with the sheer volume of written matter went far beyond its monotony, its ugly excess. He wanted to find some way to make use of the extensive and valuable resources to be found in books.  In A Guide to Kulchur he reflects on the problem, his attention focussed on the British Museum, perhaps one of the strongest symbols of the print culture: About thirty years ago, seated on one of the very hard, very slippery, thoroughly uncomfortable chairs of the British Museum main reading room, with a pile of large books at my right hand and a pile of somewhat smaller ones at my left hand, I lifted my eyes to the tiers of volumes and false doors covered with imitation book-backs which surround that focus of learning. Calculating the eye-strain and the number of pages per day that a man could read, with deduction for say at least 5% of one man's time for reflection, I decided against it. There must be some other way for a human being to make use of that vast cultural heritage. (53-54) Linked to the desire to make good use of cultural heritage is a firm belief that  91  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  knowledge may be important, but understanding is crucial. Knowledge "weighs as nothing against understanding, and there is not the least use or need of retaining it in the form of dead catalogues once you understand process" (GK 53). Faced with the dilemma of volume versus understanding, and after reading the works of Leo Frobenius, Pound turned to a concept of tribal knowledge, sagetrieb. He called The  Cantos "the tale of the tribe" (GK 194).  In 1929, he suggested that he would devise "a portable substitute for the British Museum . . . were it possible" ("Read," LE 16). But immediately following that sentence, he admitted that "It isn't."  Nevertheless, it seems he never gave up that  basic aspiration. Describing his approach to Guide to Kulchur, he says "I am to write this new Vade Mecum without opening other volumes, I am to put down so far as possible only what has resisted the erosion of time and forgetfulness" (GK 33). Gists and piths. This is a process well suited to an oral tradition, and quite contrary to the practices of, say, modern historians. He takes the same approach into poetry, and in 1935 summarized his poet's task this way: It is our generation's job to hammer a few simple truths into the human consciousness . . . certain facts must stand in the common tongue. These root facts must go into the PEOPLE, they must go into the everlasting repository, the MIND of the people. They must go into folklore, into men's proverbs. (SCAI6) Indeed, this "job" resembles the task of the early epic poet, who created "a body of  92  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  invisible writing imprinted upon the brain of the community" (Havelock 141).  That  body of writing would be "a compendium of matters to be memorized, of tradition to be maintained, of paideia to be transmitted" (Havelock 49). Hugh Kenner suggests that Pound continued to pursue the goal of a portable substitute, in spite of the difficulties: "the impulse endured; the  Cantos fit into one volume" (Era 320).  Pound's drive to create the paideuma is unfortunately and necessarily at odds with the world in which he was trying to do it. The British Museum was already a selection of materials, and a highly biased one at that. Even greater obstacles were Pound's upbringing, training, expectations, and cultural heritage.  His intellectual  arrogance and anti-semitism, for example, would both handicap his efforts to provide knowledge that would lead to understanding. What Pound leaves out has equal though different value to what he includes. His selectivity, and the problems it generates, are in many respects manageable or acceptable only in an oral tradition. And whatever his motivation, clearly Pound had a greater concern for the "earwitness" than for accurate reporting, for "the live man speaking" and "the actual presence of what he is quoting" instead of "its relevance to his opinions" (Korg 98).  The oral tradition has several essential characteristics, all of which are clearly evident throughout  The Cantos. Those characteristics are identified and explored by,  93  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  among many others, Eric A . Havelock in Preface  to Plato', Albert B. Lord, in Singer  of Tales; and Milman Parry in The Making of Homeric Verse. According to Havelock, the "familiar formulaic devices of oral technique" include "the ring form, the repetition with speakers changed, and similar devices which at bottom utilize the principle of the echo" (136). Lord's more detailed list includes: formulaic expression; standardization of themes; epithetic identification (for disambiguation); generation of ceremonial characters; formulary, ceremonial appropriation of history; cultivation of praise and vituperation; and copiousness.  Formulaic expression, one of the most common features of all oral traditions, is defined by Parry as "a group of words which is regularly employed under the same metrical conditions to express a given essential idea"  (Singer 30).  10  Such expressions  are not limited to poetic works, but are also used for many prosaic purposes, including history and administration, for example. Havelock points out that in Homeric times "all [people] alike were trained to respond to formulaic directives — a military order, let us say, or a local tax assessment — in which the epic style was imitated or echoed" (140). Formulaic expressions thus appear in directives, procedures, genealogies, diplomatic messages, etc.  On one level, formulaic expressions often encapsulate essential ideas or act as  94  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  catchphrases to signal certain events, stories, etc. But they also function in structural terms: they fill "the space between the bucolic diaeresis and the end of the line, between the penthemimeral caesura . . . or the hephthemimeral caesura and the end of the line, or between the beginning of the line and these caesurae" (Parry 9). They work as rhythmic or musical material, to sustain the structure, rather (or more) than as content.  While formulaic expressions are primarily mnemonic, they are also a reflection of a way of thinking, or the patterns of thought of a particular people: "The formulaic style characteristic of oral composition represented not merely certain verbal and metrical habits but also a cast of thought, or mental condition" (Havelock, "Preface" x). That is to say, "oral cultures not only express themselves in formulas but also think in formulas" and thoughts are "processed for retrieval in various ways, or, in other words, fixed, formulaic, stereotyped" (Ong, "Talking Drums" 417-8). Thus formulaic expressions can serve as nodes or anchors that draw together and represent groups of ideas; they also make it possible to mnemonically structure complex thoughts.  Recurring references to "ply over ply," for example, identify not just one item or situation, but a universal concept that applies to both the natural world and to  95  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  philosophy. In this respect, they resemble the ideogram, which for Pound represented a way of thinking, or "the method of science."  Ideograms also involve drawing  together and representing ideas. Pound described the construction of an ideogram as . . . very much the kind of thing a biologist does (in a very much more complicated way) when he gets together a few hundred or thousand slides, and picks out what is necessary for his general statement. Something that fits the case, that applies in all of the cases. (ABCR 22) Thus the Chinese ideogram for red, comprising the abbreviated pictures of rose, cherry, iron rust and flamingo, "is based on something everyone K N O W S " (ABCR 22). Each abbreviated image fits the case, and in turn the condition of red-ness applies to each one. At the same time, there is in fact a cluster of images.  The clusters of images/ideas so essential to the processes of thought and communication in ideogrammic method are perhaps the closest written equivalent to the concept of formulaic expression in oral traditions. Rabat6 describes one way in which Pound uses the process:  "He maps out first of all the interaction of forces  dominating the current ideological fray, then uses the ideogrammic method as a way of controlling writing through his voice, and of disseminating his voice through writing" (87).  And as mentioned earlier, in quotations Pound "is using voice as if it  were an image" (Kay Davis 63). For both formulaic expression and ideogrammic method, the components together point to features that apply in all cases, and yet also  96  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  direct attention to some features that are particular to individual cases. Thus we comprehend not one red, but the available range of reds and some of the particular objects which manifest those various reds.  Formulaic expressions can also generate Benjamin's transcendent force, Pound's vortex or "cluster of fused ideas": It is in the presentation of such a "complex" instantaneously which gives that sense of sudden liberation; that sense of freedom from time limits and space limits; that sense of sudden growth which we experience in the presence of the greatest works of art ("Retrospect," LEA). Here again, the clusters of ideas work as ideogrammic method — in fact, they work because of their ideogrammic qualities. Abbreviated language pictures of several different things or people play against one another to express a core idea — So-chu churning and Tyro, Ityn and Cabestan, gods afloat in azure air, light raining, and so on. In  Guide to Kulchur, Pound presents one such ideogrammic complex, explicitly:  "These disjunct paragraphs belong together, Gaudier, Great Bass, Leibniz, Erigena, are parts of one ideogram, they are not merely separate subjects" (75).  From the pictures of Ityn and Cabestan together, we understand not only the central concepts of metamorphosis and betrayal, but also the range and diversity of the metamorphoses and betrayals involved — the kind of metamorphosis linked to  97  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  rape (for victim and avenger), and the kind of revenge for betrayal where part or all of the desired one is cooked and served to the violator of trust — along with the associated individuals and specific incidents. The central concepts in each cluster of ideas, or the features that apply in all the cases, are among the "simple truths" that Pound refers to, among the "certain facts" that "must stand in the common tongue . . . . must go into the everlasting repository . . . . into folklore, into men's proverbs"  (SCAI6).  Formulaic expressions occur throughout The Cantos, on a variety of levels. For example: And poor old Homer blind, blind, as a bat Ear, ear for the sea-surge, murmur of old men's voices  [2/6]  poor old Homer blind, blind as a bat, Ear, ear for the sea-surge; rattle of old men's voices.  [7/24]  The second passage echoes the first aurally, except for the word "rattle," but is rearranged differently on the page, perhaps similar to the way in which a voice would alter the phrases in the process of reiterating the text. The characteristics that make these words so recognizable the second time they appear, I believe, are largely aural — exact repetition of phrases; repetition of individual words within phrases — "blind,  98  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  blind" and "ear, ear"; combined with the alliterative qualities of some of the phrases, "blind, blind as a bat" and "ear, ear for the sea-surge."  At the same time, changes to line breaks and punctuation affect pacing, rhythm, stress and emphasis. With one comma, the phrase unit "blind, as a bat/Ear" changes to "blind as a bat." Also, in addition, the line break occurs in a different location, isolating the phrase, and underscores the change. The change in wording, from "murmur" to "rattle," affects the rhyme or echo, changing it from [dr] to [at]. This new rhyme, combined with a line break before "rattle," shifts the emphasis from "sea-surge" to "bat" and "rattle." These features do not necessarily change the general meaning, but they do shift the locus of meaning. To use Alan Dundes' terms, text — phonemes and morphemes — does not change, but texture and context do.  Another expression that occurs far more often is the cluster of words around "in the arena," which appears in one form or another in at least six cantos: And we sit here . . . there in the arena . . .  [4/16]  And we sit here. I have sat here For forty four thousand years, [11/50] And we sit here under the wall, Arena romana, Diocletian's, les gradins  99  [12/53]  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  And another day or evening toward sundown by the arena (les gradins) [29/145] So we sat there by the arena, outside, Thiy and i l decaduto  [78/481]  where there are also the scant remains of an arena and le Musee de Cluny Arena or is it a teatro romano? [80/505] In these examples, the two phrases "we sit here" and "in the arena" occur in whole, or in part, with just enough of the phrases and/or other attendant verbal cues to evoke that image of sitting in the arena. The final three references move further away, from  "by the arena" to "scant remains of an arena." And the final reference is undermined with the question "or is it a teatro romano?" The later references work partly because they call to mind the earlier ones, and draw attention to the relative positions of "we" to the "arena." The phrase accumulates new meaning with each appearance.  11  This kind of formulaic expression functions on one level much like Homeric formulaic expressions; but, because it occurs in written language, it also operates on a variety of levels not possible in the oral tradition. For example, different perspectives of the arena are introduced in the third and fourth appearances of the phrase — "we  sit here in the arena" then "we sit here under the wall, arena romana" and then "we sat there by the arena." Shifts from " i n " to "under" to "by" could work in an oral tradition, provided the phrases were uttered relatively close together, and provided the  100  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  surrounding text reinforced the significance of the shift. However, more subtle shifts, from "sit" to "sat" and from "here" to "there," for example, or the significance of the addition of "romana," might go virtually unnoticed in a spoken text. In other words, the elements of the passage that rely on visualization remain directly linked to the oral tradition. A s Havelock points out, "As long as oral discourse retains the need of visualization it could not properly be said to indulge in abstraction" (188). And those portions of the formulaic expression that depend on abstract concepts are linked directly to the written tradition.  The different views of the arena, along with the final reflective question, work like those few "necessary" slides picked out from hundreds put together by a biologist (ABCR 22), or like the different abbreviated pictures in an ideogram; as such they are indicative of reflective or analytical thought of the sort that depends on written language. From Havelock's perspective, "Once rid of the need to preserve experience vividly, the composer was freer to reorganise it reflectively" (189). Consequently, formulaic expressions based on the oral tradition, when adapted to the written, can function in many more varied forms.  One specialized form of formulaic expression warrants separate consideration — epithetic identification (for disambiguation). Typical of such epithetic identification is  101  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  "the white man who made the tempest in Baluba" [38/189], Pound's catch-name for Frobenius. In the oral tradition, this practice is used especially for identifying significant characters.  Throughout the Malatesta Cantos, for example, Pound uses  epithetic identification for a variety of characters "Old Bladder" (Aeneas Sylvius), "old Wattle-wattle" (Francesco Sforza), "Old Pills" (Ugolino de'Pili), "that gay bird Peiro della Bella," "lame N o w y " (Novello, Sigismundo's brother), "fatty Barbo" (Pietro Barbo), "that nick-nosed s.o.b. Feddy Urbino" (Federicho d'Orbino). Many of the epithets refer to physical and psychological characteristics of the various individuals. But all the epithets, even those based on physical characteristics, call attention to some aspect of the person's life or behaviour, revealing what the person does and how he acts. Most of the epithets work to suggest the whole of the person's life, like key-words or catch-words. Gerhardsson suggests that when "concise memory-texts become more numerous, and it becomes necessary to have a brief reference system for many of them . . . they are therefore given a name, a title, a heading . . . a further summary of what is already a concise summary, in the form of key-words or catchwords" (Gerhardsson 143).  Walter J. Ong points out that when you reduce the number of signs used in communication — as from the oral to written, or oral to drum — then you need more disambiguation. In other words, what tone of voice and non-verbal sounds can  102  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  convey, written language cannot; and what particular words can convey, their equivalent drum tones cannot.  12  Consequently, when a name or nickname is used as  a sign to represent that person and, in turn, particular qualities or conditions associated with that person — Feddy, for example, to suggest abusive rule, and so on — the identifying epithet is needed to ensure that the name prompts the right associations — "nick-nosed s.o.b.," in the case of Federicho d'Orbino. The same process occurs in Homer, with wise Nestor, faithful Penelope, and so on.  Next to formulaic expression, the most common and obvious feature of oral traditions is the standardization of themes.  Oral noetics "organizes thoughts around a  controlled set of themes, more or less central to the human lifeworld" (Ong, "Talking Drums" 419).  Those themes are usually limited, and according to Havelock they  reflect "a state of mind that deals with becoming rather than being, and with the many rather than the one, and with the visible rather than with the invisible and thinkable" (189). Havelock also suggested "that it was increasing alphabetization which opened the way to experiments in abstraction" (189). Pound works both realms, employing the techniques of the oral poet, and taking advantage of the opportunities of the written word.  While the oral poet would generally be limited to themes of birth, death,  103  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  celebration, struggle, in real and visible terms, Pound, in contrast, can also deal with abstractions and concepts that are complex or layered in ways not suited to the oral tradition, "ply over ply," such as the different views of the arena, usury, and the value of the Renaissance man. For example, while the oral poet would record/report the doings of the Renaissance man, Pound can analyze and reflect on the value of being a Renaissance man.  The issue of standardized or recurring themes in  The Cantos has been dealt with  extensively, by Kenner, Davenport, Quinn, Yeats, Pound himself, and many others.  The Cantos, according to Yeats, has "two themes, the descent into Hades from Homer, a Metamorphosis from Ovid, and mixed with these medieval or modern historical characters"  (A Vision 4-5). This remark appears in a much-quoted essay in  which Yeats gives readers some unfortunate directions related to the significance of fugue for the structure of The Cantos. And while Pound quarrelled fiercely with Yeats' explanation of fugue, he did not challenge the comment on themes.  13  In a  1927 letter to his father, Pound himself refers to fugue, in particular to "subject and response and counter subject": Have I ever given you outline of main scheme ::: or whatever it is? I. Rather like, or unlike subject and response and counter subject in fugue. A . A . Live man goes down into world of Dead  104  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  C. B. The "repeat in history" B. C . The "magic moment" or moment of metamorphosis, bust thru from quotidien into "divine or permanent world." Gods, etc.  {Letters 210)  Pound says "rather like, or  unlike" (emphasis added) and then identifies parts of a  fugue (not the whole thing). His interest in fugue, it seems to me, follows what the form will allow, not what it will contain. The way in which Pound describes that moment of metamorphosis, as bursting from one world into another, strongly resembles descriptions of how the donnee will work in collage — eruptions of reality.  In that same letter, Pound explains his concept of "subject rhyme" in  The Cantos:  Various things keep cropping up in the poem. The original world of gods; the Trojan War, Helen on the wall of Troy with the old men fed up with the whole show and suggesting she be sent back to Greece . . . . Elvira on wall or Toro (subject-rhyme with Helen on Wall). (Utters 210) Pound may describe these "various things" that "keep cropping up" in literary and musical terms; nevertheless, they work essentially in the same way as the recurrent themes of oral literature. Many critics have speculated as to the source of Pound's term, and yet overlook or downplay the fact that the process is a very old one, tracing back to the formulaic expressions and standardized themes of ancient oral traditions.  14  105  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  In a further effort to explain the process of fugue, as it applied to themes, Yeats details Pound's effort to describe the approach: He has scribbled on the back of an envelope certain sets of letters that represent emotions or archetypal events — I cannot find any adequate definition — A B C D and them J K L M , and then each set of letters repeated, and then A B C D inverted and this repeated, and then a new element X Y X , then certain letters that never recur and then all sorts of combinations of X Y Z and J K L M and A B C D and D C B A and all set whirling together (Yeats,  A Packet 3).  It is clear from Pound's own work, and Yeats' report, that Pound not only worked in a tradition of standardized themes, but did so consciously and with great deliberation. What is particularly significant for  The Cantos, is just how those themes recur in The  Cantos, yet that has not been as thoroughly dealt with, particularly with respect to oral qualities. It is in that process that the relation of the oral tradition to ideogrammic method is again reinforced, and the orality of the text underscored.  Pound himself used the analogy of fugue, but not in the strict prescriptive fashion that Yeats applied the concept. In 1937, he wrote to John Lackay Brown, "Take a fugue: theme, response, contrasujet. structure"  Not that I mean to make an exact analogy of  (Letters 294). A few years later, according to his daughter, he said that  "You know how a fugue of Bach is composed, one instrument comes in and the others repeat the theme" (de Rachewiltz 259).  106  Keeping in mind Pound's caution  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  against exact analogy, it is possible to see the repetition of themes in terms of fugue and in terms of oral tradition.  For example, in Cantos 4 and 74, similar clusters of ideas appear, in ideogrammic fashion, presenting standardized themes: No wind is the king's wind. Let every cow keep her calf. "This wind is held in gauze curtains . . . " No wind is the king's . . . The camel drivers sit in the turn of the stairs Look down on Ecbatan of plotted streets, "Danae! Danae! What wind is the king's?" Smoke hangs on the stream, The peach-trees shed bright leaves in the water,  [4/16]  To build the city of Dioce whose terraces are the colour of stars. The suave eyes, quiet, not scornful, rain also is of the process What you depart from is not the way and olive tree blown white in the wind washed in the Kiang and Han what whiteness will you add to this whiteness, what candor? "the great periplum brings in the stars to our shore."  [74/425]  In these passages, the themes of the plotted city of Ecbatan, the golden rain of Danae, the flow or Taoist process of wind and rain, do not simply recur, rather they reappear in similar juxtaposition to one another, in keeping with an ideogrammic method. Each element of the cluster contributes something to the others. 107  References  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  to Danae shed new light on an understanding of male and female winds, which in turn informs the myths of female deities of the earth and male deities of the sky. Similar exchanges occur between "rain also is of the process" and "the great periplum." At the same time, the oral qualities of both these passages are accentuated by punctuation and linguistic features. There are quotation marks, questions, and invocations — for example, "Danae! Danae! / What wind is the king's?" There is also alliteration and repetition — "what whiteness will you add to this whiteness" — emphasizing the sounds of the line. A l l these features contribute to a sense of the  viva voce, so that as the themes recur, they recur in and through the live man speaking.  Type characters, or ceremonial characters, another feature of the oral tradition, are also evident in  The Cantos. Again, this allows the poet or orator to gather a  cluster of ideas or beliefs around a particular point, in this case a person. One reference to clever Odysseus calls to mind not just the idea of cleverness, but the many clever deeds and actions of Odysseus, along with their results and implications. Moreover, Odysseus is linked in a variety of ways with other heroic figures in The  Cantos, including the Cid, Kung, Roland, and others. D . S. Carne-Ross observes that "all related characters can merge, or meet, into one another" ("The Cantos as Epic" 139).  108  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  That some of the characters are "types" is emphasized through subject rhymes. Helen, who brings love and death to Greece and Troy, who inspires both art/creation and destruction, is rhymed with Eleanor of Aquitaine, who brings the similar things to England and France. Itys, who is killed by his violated mother, Procne, and served on a platter to his betraying father, is rhymed with Cabestan, killed by his betrayed master, Ramon of Rossillon, with his heart served on a platter to his deceiving lover, Seremonda, wife of Ramon. In such instances, the individuals portrayed become types, or — as we shall see — ceremonial characters.  Given their actions, and the  consequences of those actions, the characters come to represent certain emotions and values, so that not even epithets are needed. As Sister Bernetta Quinn points out, the "archetypes fall into three major classes: heroes, heroines, and enemies (male or female) of the life of value" ("Metamorphoses" 71). The heroes include "both good rulers of their people and artists of integrity." The heroines include "women whose flesh enshrined a gleam of the eternal beauty." The villains include those "who reap the evil gains of usury" ("Metamorphoses" 71).  Agamemnon, one of the enemies according to Quinn, appears several times, usually indirectly. Each reference tells us something of the man and his actions. A n early reference, "Dog-eye!!" [5/19], is Achilles' unflattering epithet for Agamemnon. This line is echoed later, in Canto 82:  109  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  "On the Atreides' r o o f "like a dog...and a good job EMOS H O S I S . . . X E P O S hac dextera mortus dead by this hand  [82/523]  The first two lines refer to the watchman guarding the place, and the third to the murder of Agamemnon by his wife ("my husband [dead by my right] hand"). The strife of the house of Atreus is then compared to that of the Malatestas: And, in Este's house, Parisina Paid For this tribe paid always, and the house Called also Atreides', [8/32] And the blame for this situation is laid squarely on the head of Agamemnon: Agamemnon killed that stag, against hunting rites.  [89/602]  When he killed Diana's sacred stag, and sacrificed Iphigenia, Agamemnon became a father of war, and responsible for all the grief that would later befall his house. His brutal death, in his own bath at the hands of his wife, is later rhymed with the equally brutal death of Constans, who likewise "got bumped off in his bath / in Siracusa." [96/652], but by his servants. Like Agamemnon, he brought great afflictions onto his own people, and like Agamemnon died at the hands of his victims.  In contrast to Agamemnon, Guillaume, the Duke of Aquitaine and Seventh Count of Poitou, was one of the "artists of integrity." He was also an inventor, one "who found a new process" in Pound's terms.  15  His contribution as an inventor and artist  110  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  is introduced in Canto 8: "And Poictiers, you know, Guillaume Poictiers, had brought the song up out of Spain" [8/32]. In a similar vein, a distant sort of echo, the value of the architecture in his village is mentioned in Canto 90 — "to the room in Poitiers where one can stand / casting no shadow" [90/605].  16  While Guillaume may have demonstrated integrity in his art, he  did not do the same in his dealings with money and women. The less appealing aspects of Guillaume's character are revealed in Canto 6: And that Guillaume sold out his ground rents (Seventh of Poitiers, Ninth of Aquitain). "Tant las fotei com auzirets "Cen e quatre vingt et veit vetz..." [6/21] Interestingly enough, we meet the personal side of this man before we learn of his artistic endeavours. And the speaking voice of this character reveals an individual who is perhaps less likeable than the "enemy" Agamemnon, at least on a personal level, pointing to the extreme difficulty inherent in dealing with characters whose public contributions are at odds with their personal approaches to living.  The final reference to Guillaume, in Canto 105, serves to establish the time period that the other characters in the section belong to: Athelstan on occasion distributed, Ethelbald exempted from taxes, Egbert left local laws, consuetudines  111  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  "And we bjJayzus reject your damn bishops." Paschal to Anselm. At this time was Guillaume de Poictiers,  [105/749-50]  Here Guillaume is also linked to other inventors, Ethelbald, Paschal, and Egbert, though these men were inventors in government, not art. Guillaume's artistic actions establish a sense of the man, and along with the links to other figures, others of his ceremonial "type."  Other heroic and villainous figures appear far more frequently — for example, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Kung and Han. The appearances of these characters work in essentially the same way as the characters described above, with the details of their lives and actions contributing to a sense of the individual, and the links to other similar historical figures establishing what type of hero or villain they are.  The fifth characteristic of oral traditions, identified by Lord and Parry, is the formulary appropriation of history. Walter J. Ong points out that Whereas highly developed writing and print cultures tend to appropriate the past analytically when they verbalize it, oral cultures tend to appropriate the past ceremonially, which is to say in stylized, formulary fashion . . . around the action of individuals. ("Talking Drums" 421) 17  Ong's observation follows Havelock's: "The psychology of oral memorisation and oral record required the content of what is memorised to be a set of doings. This in  112  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  turn presupposes actors or agents" (171). Havelock went on to point out that the "agents must be conspicuous and political people. Hence they become heroes" (171). Heroes, villains, or artists, in the case of  Indeed, history in The  The Cantos.  Cantos is composed of significant events and people, with  individuals linked to their actions and to other similar events, rather than a strict chronology and/or analysis of events and their causes; in this sort of history, association takes priority over chronology. For example, in the opening lines of Canto 9, there are many specific years, but no actual dates are given: One year floods rose, One year they fought in the snows, One year hail fell, breaking the trees and walls. Down here in the marsh they trapped him in one year, And he stood in the water up to his neck to keep the hounds off him, And he floundered about in the marsh and came in after three days, That was Astorre Manfredi of Faenza who worked the ambush and set the dogs off to find him, In the marsh, down here under Mantua, And he fought in Fano, in a street fight, and that was nearly the end of him; And the emperor came down and knighted us,  [1440] [1444] [1442]  [1430s] [9/34]  [1433]  The sequence here is not the strict chronology of written history, but the associative, semi-chronological order of oral narrative.  113  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  As Walter J. Ong points out, the storytellers in an oral tradition must have supreme skill in handling episodic techniques, for they do not handle full chronological sequences of stories. Indeed, the performer in an oral culture would be puzzled or surprised even by the suggestion that such treatment could be possible. Ong reports that "In modern Zaire . . . Candi Rureke, when asked to narrate all the stories of the Nyanga hero, was astonished . . . never, he protested, had anyone performed all the Mwindo episodes in sequence" (146).  18  Certainly Pound would  sympathize with this reaction, even though he would be unfamiliar with the particular culture; indeed, he says that "We do N O T know the past in chronological sequence . . . we know what we know by ripples and spirals eddying out from us and from our own time" (GK 60). In this sense, Pound was not striving for accurate dating. In fact, he sometimes quite deliberately included erroneous information. For example, when Bunting was typing up Pound's drafts of the Jefferson Cantos, he noticed that there were errors in the dates; he made numerous corrections, only to have Pound change them back to their original and incorrect form.  19  Sagetrieb, passing on the  tradition, was important; exact years were not. And in some cases, exact dates and facts might detract from the essential character of an event.  Pound moves through the repeat in history, from hero/heroine to another, from villain to villain — Helen to Eleanor, Churchill to Metevsky — from one  114  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  event/situation to another — Actaeon's death in the jaws of his hounds to Peire Vidal's similar death, from a young lizard at Pisa poised to strike a midge to the war poised over London — as the young lizard extends his leopard spots along the grass-blade seeking the green midge half an ant-size the Serpentine will look just the same the gulls be as neat on the pond the sunken garden unchanged God knows what else is left of our London my London, your London and if her green elegance remains on this side of my rain ditch puss lizard will lunch on some other T-bone [80/516] and and and and  In this passage, there is a subtle interweaving of the things situated at the prison camp ditch and the conditions of war-torn London. Hugh Witemeyer describes it as an  "a/b/a layering of the passage" ("Pound and the Cantos" 231), which involves association and affirmation. In this process, the prison becomes garden, or vice versa, and the destruction in London parallels the stand-off between midge and lizard.  20  Pound acknowledges the practice of the repeat in history in a 1937 letter to John Lackay Brown, "There is at start, descent to the shades, metamorphoses, parallel (Vidal/Acteon)" (Letters 294). These recurrences and echoes work in the same way as formulaic expressions, epithets, standardized themes and type characters, and they  115  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  work as ideogram. In addition, the manner in which Pound presents historical events affects their character, turning fact into ceremonial feature. Just one phrase can turn historical fact into ceremonial history. For Victor L i , those ceremonial features are the 'Tabulation of memory." He suggests that the single qualifying phrase "or there may have been," in Canto 3, alters what seems like facts, and "transforms reminiscence from the recall of facts to the fabulation of memory, from the reportorial 'I was there' to the storyteller's 'Once upon a time'" ("Presence" 306). Just another way of shifting to ceremonial feature — but, in this case, through the storyteller's form.  The practice of cultivating praise and vituperation is the sixth feature that Lord and Parry attribute to oral literature. The suggestion is that wherever there is human interaction, there is struggle, and ultimately, blame and/or praise. Throughout The  Cantos, whenever heroes/heroines or villains appear, blame or vituperation is evident in the descriptions or dialogue, and even in epithets. Examples of cultivating praise range from comments about action and courage — "They've got a bigger army, / but there are more men in this camp" [10/47] — to remarks about quality of a person's conversation — "Oils, beasts, grasses, petrifactions, birds, incrustations, / Dr. Mitchell's conversation was various  " [34/165] — and to leadership qualities —  "better gift can no man make to a nation / than the sense of Kung fu Tseu" [76/454].  116  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  Instances of vituperation in  The Cantos usually include remarks about a person's  appearance — "pot-scraping little runt Andreas / Benzi," [10/44] — or disparaging remarks about character, especially suggestions that an individual is untrustworthy — "the said swindling / Cardinal" [9/36], "That was false and crafty of heart / a tough tongue that flowed with deceit" [53/273].  Finally, the oral tradition is characterized by copiousness. While  The Cantos  may be in one volume, it certainly possesses copiousness; and, as with oral literature, the poem exhibits a different economy of language, which is to say the copiousness is functional. In some respects, Pound's belief about intelligent conversation poses an interesting dilemma for imagism: the natural laws of spoken discourse, wherein repetition and reiteration occur constantly, are in some respects contrary to the movement that has, at its core, a credo of "direct treatment" and "use absolutely no word that does not contribute to the presentation" ("Retrospect," LE 3). However, even in the oral tradition, brevity and directness are considered basic principles, for rhetoric, teaching or entertainment; in Greek, Asian and Rabbinic oral traditions, conciseness is strongly advocated. Brevity operates as a caveat on copiousness. Repetition and expansion are used on an as-needed basis, with the understanding that brevity is equally important.  117  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  Confucius, for example, says "Get the meaning across and then STOP" 107).  (Analects  And in the Rabbinic tradition, verbal condensation was developed to the utmost  limits, to a level of "key-words or catch-words" (Gerhardsson 143). Those key words were either decisive or introductory words, words that would act as clear signals for the audience. And Pound observes that "Dante was content to cite the first lines of certain  canzoni"  (SCAI  63).  21  The presence of conversation in literature thus  involves a different economy of language, one where certain kinds of repetition and reiteration are essential and not excess, and where different forms of abbreviation or mnemonic shorthand are required.  A l l of these oral features work together in the text of  The Cantos.  and recapitulate, we can review two passages already mentioned: And the wave runs in the beach-grove: "Eleanor, eA,evauc and eA.e7TToA.ic!" And poor old Homer blind, blind, as a bat, Ear, ear for the sea-surge, murmur of old men's voices: "Let her go back to the ships, Back among Grecian faces, lest evil come on our own, Evil and further evil, and a curse cursed on our children, Moves, yes she moves like a goddess And has the face of a god and the voice of Schoeney's daughters, And doom goes with her in walking, Let her go back to the ships, back among Grecian voices." [2/6]  118  To summarize  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  And by the curved, carved foot of the couch, claw-foot and lion head, an old man seated Speaking in the low drone... : Ityn! Et ter flebiliter, Ityn, Ityn! And she went to the window and cast her down, " A l l the while, the while, swallows crying: Ityn! "It is Cabestan's heart in the dish." "It is Cabestan's heart in the dish? "No other taste shall change this." [4/13]  These two passages contain most of the features identified by Lord and Parry: formulaic expression ("Let her go back", "Grecian faces" and "Grecian voices," "heart in the dish"); standardized themes (the respective betrayals of Helen and Itys); epithetic identification ("poor old Homer blind"); ceremonial characters (Helen, Eleanor, Itys and Cabestan); ceremonial history (back to the ships); praise and vituperation ("Eleanor,  ektvavc, and e\kirrok\c,\" and "a curse cursed");  copiousness (in the many repetitions).  And there's more. A sense of orality or speech is evoked by the text and the aural texture of quoted passages. Arrangement and punctuation, for example, draw attention to the presence of other voices in the text. Exclamation points reflect a quality of voice, not visual text, and indentations help measure the utterances. addition, the reference to ears and speech underscore a sense of  In  viva voce — and in  fact, the quoted passage about Helen and Eleanor is bracketed either side by the word  119  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  "voices." Repetition of words and sounds, Greek variations that play on Helen's name, and a shift to Latin, all provoke utterance — these lines "must come to life in audition, or in the finer audition which one may have in imagining sound" ("French Poets," MIN 188). This is no mere dialogue, no simple sequence of quotations, things in a two-dimensional flat sense of concept juxtaposed with other concepts, but dialogue and quotation in the sense of voices with live phrases conversing.  120  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  1. According to Pound's daughter, the chanting was impossible to imitate, almost inhuman: No words: sounds bordering on ventriloquism, as though some alien power were rumbling in the cave of his chest in a language other than human; then it moved up to his head and tone became nasal, metallic (de Rachelwiltz 46-47). 2. Pound attributes the attitude collectively to Shelley, Yeats and Swinburne in "The Prose Tradition in Verse" (1914; LE 371-77), but later assigns the comment solely to Yeats, in the Pisan Cantos. 3. See "Ezra Doob (1978). 4.  Pound Speaking": Radio Speeches of World War II Edited by Leonar  For a discussion of sound values and cadence, see Chapter 6.  5. Emerson, Thoreau and Lowell all shared Pound's interest in the differences between oral and written discourse. Thoroeau placed greater value on the written, considering it more mature, more significant. Unfortunately, he treats the subject with extremely sexist language and attitudes. Nevertheless, the underlying point is of interest: There is a memorable interval between the spoken and the written language, the language heard and the language read. The one is commonly transitory, a sound, a tongue, a dialect merely, almost brutish, and we learn it unconsciously, like the brutes, of our mothers. The other is the maturity and experience of that; if that is our mother tongue, this is our father tongue, a reserved and select expression, too significant to the heard by the ear, which we must be born again in order to speak. ("Reading," Walden 354) 6.  Havelock goes on to point out that Between Homer and Plato, the method of storage began to alter, as the information became alphabetised, and correspondingly the eye supplanted the ear as chief organ employed for this purpose. The complete results of literacy did not supervene in Greece until the ushering in of the  121  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  Hellenistic age, when conceptual thought achieved as it were fluency and its vocabulary became more or less standardised. Plato, living in the midst of this revolution, announced it an became its prophet. ("Preface" v) There has been a good deal of other discussion about oral versus literate traditions. In "The Consequences of Literacy," for example, Jack Goody and Ian Watt argue that literacy "prevents the individual from participating fully in the total cultural tradition to anything like the extent possible in non-literate society" (Literacy and Traditional Societies 56). 7.  "He has left a testament . . . an oral tradition, venerated by disciples."  8. Pound did not, however, turn to the different but equally complex forms of poetry and rhetoric of the aboriginal peoples of North and South America. He in fact held a very patronizing view of the "savages," preferring those cultures that he thought were at their peak. Ironically, many of the actual techniques that he practised are evident in the arts of aboriginal peoples, and some of them are at least as complex, and I would suggest more complex, than the oral traditions that Pound did rely on. This is simply another of Pound's idiosyncratic "blind spots."  9.  First published in A Lume Spento in 1908.  10. In The Making of Homeric Verse, Parry expresses another aspect of the formulaic expression: These expressions are of different metrical length according to the ideas they are made to express; that is, according to the nature of the words necessary for the expression of these ideas. (9) 11. The various references to sitting in the arena also call to mind the opening line of Canto 3 — "I sat on the Dogana's steps" [3/11]. Although the seat was humble, what Pound earlier called "the Dogana's vulgarest curb" (cf Terrell, 8) — the view of the Grand Canal and the buildings around St. Mark's was spectacular; it was an arena of sorts, and a place where "Gods float in the azure air" [3/11]. There are also numerous other instances where "sitting in" or the word "arena" alone echo this sequence, and the original occurrence.  122  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  12.  Ong explains: To say "moon" the drummer does not simply strike the tones for the Lokele word for moon, songe ( . . ), for two high tones could mean many things besides moon . . . he strikes the tones for the stereotyped phrase meaning "moon look toward the earth" ( • • . - . . . . ) . The tones of "look toward the earth," also are ambiguous, limit and are limited by the tones of the "moon." ("Talking Drums" 415)  13. In a letter to John Lackay Brown (1937), Pound comments: "If Yeats knew a fugue from a frog, he might have transmitted what I told him in some way that would have helped rather than obfuscated his readers. M a h ! ! ! " (Letters 293). 14. The suggestion has been made that the term "subject-rhyme" came from Louis Agassiz and the Doctrine of Correspondences, or from Emerson (Ian F . Bell, "Pound, Emerson" 237-239). Other suggestions include Gaudier-Brzeska (and his various theories of relation), or the works of Arnaut Daniel. Davis summarizes many of these speculations. 15.  From ABC of Reading: When you start searching for 'pure elements' in literature you will find that literature has been created by the following classes of persons: 1. Inventors. Men who found a new process, or whose extant work gives us the first known example of a process. 2. The Master. Men who combined a number of such processes, and who used them as well as, or better than, the inventors. [and so on] (39).  16. The village is grouped with Rome, Autun and Benevento — all religious sees — in Canto 100. 17. The earliest greek historian whose work has come down to us, Herodotus, bridges the oral tradition of history and the written. On the one hand, he would report several versions of the same event, leaving the reader to choose among them. He also presents very good  123  Cicadas & the Live Phrase  portrayals of character. On the other, he wrote reflectively of the causes of historical events — weather, geography or the love of a woman. 18. Ong cites Biebuyck and Mateene (1971, 14). When Rureke did actually undertake the performance, the daily effort "tired Rureke both psychologically and physically, and after the twelve days he was totally exhausted" (146). 19.  This story was told by Bunting to Peter Quartermain.  20. Witemeyer actually suggests that the destruction turns into "a green thought in a green shade" ("Pound and the Cantos 'Ply over P l y " ' 231). I don't agree; the situation for midge and lizard, on their scale, lacks the pastoral qualities necessary for green thoughts in green shades. 21. Pound also says that the "convenience of printing allows us to make things easier by giving an entire poem" (SCAI 63).  124  CHAPTER FIVE Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  "an art of pure sound bound in through an art of arbitrary and conventional symbols" (Osiris, SP 33)  125  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  Viva  voce  and the reality of the speaker in  various notions of  The  rely heavily on Pound's  Cantos  In "How to Read" (1929), he defines  melopoeia.  melopoeia  as a  process "wherein the words are charged, over and above their plain meaning, with some musical property, which directs the bearing or trend of that meaning" (LE 25). Later, in ABC  of Reading  (1934), he describes it as a process of "inducing emotional  correlations by the sound and rhythm of the speech" (63). poetry " that Pound identifies in "How to Read," 1  melopoeia  1  Of the "three 'kinds of is defined first, before the  poetry that throws or casts "images upon the visual imagination"  (phanopceia),  and  before the poetry that generates and involves a "dance of intellect among words" ("Read," L £ 2 6 ) .  (logopma)  Melopoeia  2  is an element that does not translate — "It is practically impossible,"  Pound says, "to transfer or translate it from one language to another, save perhaps by divine accident, and for half a line at a time" ("Read," L E 25). That is to say, you cannot translate the natural phrase of one language directly into that of another and still retain the musical properties or absolute rhythm of the original, except perhaps "by divine accident." Those qualities that do not translate are, in Dundes' terms, texture.  3  On the other hand,  "melopoeia  can be appreciated by a foreigner with a  sensitive ear, even though he be ignorant of the language in which the poem is written" ("Read," L E 25). Thus a sensitive English reader could, without translating,  126  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  appreciate the musical properties of the natural phrase in the poetry of Remy de Gourmont or Cavalcanti, for example.  The significance of  melopoeia  4  rests in its role for music and thought — with the  way in which the musical property of a word will direct "the trend" of its meaning: . . . a force tending often to lull, or to distract the reader from the exact sense of the language. It is poetry on the borders of music and music is perhaps the bridge between consciousness and the unthinking sentient or even the insentient universe. ("Read," LE 26) 5  Since music has a direct appeal to emotion, by inference the musical properties of language would also have that appeal, and thus affect meaning to some degree. Melopoeia,  in these terms, is "poetry which moves by its music" ("Moore,"  SP  424).  Pound examines the relationships of poetry and music, poets and musicians, in a number of essays, particularly / and sections of  Guide  to Kulchur.  Gather  the Limbs  of Osiris,  Treatise  on  Harmony,  Indeed, his interest in the subject manifests itself  in virtually everything he wrote about poetry or music, and in his poetry. In "I Gather the Limbs of Osiris," he admits to "squandering a good deal of time and concentration on the question of the relation of poetry and music" (LE 36). First and foremost, he firmly believed that poets must work in/with music: . . . in Greece and in Provence the poetry attained its highest  127  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  rhythmic and metrical brilliance at times when the arts of verse and music were most closely knit together, when each thing done by the poet had some definite musical urge or necessity bound up within it. ("Tradition," LE 91) In contrast, poetry that goes too far from music is monotonous, lifeless:  "poetry  withers and 'dries out' when it leaves music" ("Vers Libre," LE 437).  What's  6  more, "poets who are not interested in music are, or become, bad poets" ("Vers Libre," L E 4 3 7 ) .  Pound's theories of poetry and music apply both to the composition and to the reading or performance of poetry. As early as 1911, he referred to poetry as "orchestration."  In 1918, in his essay, "Vers Libre and Arnold Dolmetsch," he  defines poetry as "a composition of words set to music" (LE 437).  This statement  echoes an earlier one, in a 1914 essay, where he attributes the definition to Dante — "Dante has defined a poem as a composition of words set to music" ("Prose Tradition," LE 376).  He also suggests that "We all of us compose verse to some sort  of a tune, and if the 'song' is to be sung we may as well compose to a 'musician's' tune straight away"  (Osiris, SP 37). In " A Retrospect," Pound goes even further,  arguing that a poet should "behave as a musician, a good musician, when dealing with that phase of your art which has exact parallels in music. The same laws govern, and you are bound by no others" ("Retrospect," LE 6). This statement suggests an  128  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  attitude to language which values sound above semantics (without a complete dismissal of semantics). The search for "le mot juste" would therefore focus not only on definition and usage, but also on sound. He criticized Wordsworth, for example, for paying too much attention to "the ordinary word," to the point where "he never found time to think about le mot juste" (LE 373).  Sympathetic to Plato's statement that "peXoc, is the accord of rhythm and words and music (i.e., varied pitch)" (Osiris, SP 36), Pound explored how the theory would actually apply to poetry, without limiting working artists with excessive or restrictive rules. In the tradition of Aristotle, and Dante after, Pound set out to catalogue "the simplest and briefest set of rules on which we may assume that intelligent musicians and poets alike agreed," or to enumerate things that made former artists successful: First, that the words of a song sung should be intelligible. Second, that the words should not be unreasonably distorted. Third, that the rhythm of poetry should not be unreasonably ruined by the musician setting it to music. (Osiris, SP 36) The verb "sung" here includes the utterance of poetry, not just the singing of songs. Also, Pound accepts that music and/or rhythm added to a poem will distort the words or the "speech-melody" to some degree, and that some distortion is aesthetically pleasing.  7  On the other hand, some poetry contains such strong natural rhythms that  adding music would be a disservice, or perhaps even impossible.  129  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  Pound provided some guidelines for the musician, with respect to the governing laws for music and poetry, for "the perfect song," giving the poet some indication of what it means to behave as a musician. The "perfect song occurs when the poetic rhythm is in itself interesting," he suggests, and also . . . when the musician augments, illumines it, without breaking away from, or at least without going too far from, the dominant cadences and accents of the words, when the ligatures illustrate the verbal qualities, and when the little descants and prolongations fall in with the main movements of the poem. ("Music: Stroesco, Violinists" 136) As for poets, who are approaching the problem from the other end of the song, Pound wants them to listen very carefully to language with respect to its musical qualities, particularly rhythm, and to use the ear to ensure that the rhythm does not interfere with the words themselves, but instead complements them.  Pound's interest in the musical qualities of language, while requiring great attention to detail and to individual units of sound, did not treat particular units of language in isolation. Instead, he dealt with sounds constantly in relation to other sounds or in relation to silence.  In a comparison of the "musicianship" of Pound and  Joyce, Murray Schafer describes Joyce's interest in "isolated sounds" — "He was interested in the tinkle of words. He was like Helmholtz listening to his tuning fork. His gift was for charging individual words with an expansive power to hang on belllike in the auditive memory" (18).  Pound, on the other hand, attended the ordered  130  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  cacophony and fugue-form of conversation, with sounds and ideas continually overlapping and echoing. Arnaut Daniel, in Pound's view, was a great composer because of his particularly attentive ear, and his "precision of observation" (Osiris, SP 27). Moreover, according to Pound, the very finest of the lyric periods were marked by an "intense hunger for a strict accord" between words, rhythm and music (Osiris, SP 27). The ear thus enables and empowers the poet in the process of composition.  While the poet composing may be Pound's primary concern, when it comes to music in poetry, his interest and advice extend also to the reader or performer who brings the text to life, through hearing and utterance. "Prosody and melody are attained by the listening ear," he observes in the penultimate paragraph of ABC of Reading. This is like the approach of an oral tradition — as in the old folk saying: three apples fell from heaven — one for the storyteller, one for the one who listened, and one for the one who heard. From Pound's perspective, reader, performer and critic alike — those who tell, who listen and who hear — all necessarily deal with audition, with ear. In such a context, the poem on the page works as a score or a script that allows someone other than the composer to perform and to hear the work. Just as he said, the poetry of Remy de Gourmont "must come to life in audition, or in the finer audition which one may have in imagining sound" ("French Poets," MIN  131  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  188).  The value of hearing and listening applies even to criticism: " A l l that the  critic can do for the reader or audience or spectator is to focus his gaze or audition" ("Retrospect," LE 13). And that audition must not leave music. Hence Pound criticizes modern poetry readings for "oratorical recitation," declaring that "Poetry must be read as music and not as oratory" ("Vers Libre," LE 437).  8  When audition  and music are not present, the matter is no longer poetry.  In "The Prose Tradition in Verse," Pound identifies what he called "wordmusic, " and provides some insight into what it means to be reading poetry as music: . . . since Dante's day . . . 'music' and 'poetry' have drifted apart, and we have had a third thing which is called 'word music'. I mean we have poems which are read or even, in a fashion, intoned, and are 'musical' in some sort of complete or inclusive sense that makes it impossible or inadvisable to 'set them to music' I mean obviously such poems as the First Chorus of 'Atlanta' or many of M r . Yeats' lyrics. ("Prose Tradition," LE 376) One has only to listen to an old recording of Yeats reciting "The Lake Isle of Innisfree," to hear the haunting incantation of the old man, hear him intoning the poem, stretching the tight vowel sounds of the long [f]'s in "I will arise," and holding open the deep [<5] vowel and diphthong sounds in "go now," to get a true sense of what Pound means by these statements.  The intoned lines of Yeats would be a poetry of musical phrase, and not  132  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  something set to the metronome; it depends on syllabic qualities and duration, not on stress patterns. Pound offers a further explanation of his concepts of music in poetry in "Approach to Paris . . . VII": The art of music which still remains to the poet is that of rhythm, and of a sort of melody dependent on the order and arrangement of varied vowel and consonantal sounds. The rhythm is a matter of duration and individual sounds of stress, and the matter of 'word melody' depends largely on the fitness of this duration and stress to the sounds wherewith it is connected. (New Age 16 Oct. 1913, 13:25 728) This "art of music," involving rhythm and word melody, requires particular attention to the finest details of language, including all aspects of the sound of language and the voice of the speaker. It requires careful listening — in order for the composer to fully understand the fitness of stress and duration for the sounds of the individual syllables and words, and in turn, for the audience to apprehend the word-melody.  Pound himself understood the different musical qualities of different instruments, as Murray Schafer points out: In one of the poet's earliest poems there is a line, And viol strings that outsing kings which reproduces precisely the silver resonance of the viol string under the bow. A viol is not a violin or a cello, and Pound knew it. He listened. (3) His ability to listen and understand qualities of sound in this way extended also to the  133  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  instrument of the human voice, and to the various tonal and rhythmic possibilities of intonation, dialect, and language. Moreover, Pound understood that people have varying abilities for listening and hearing: "some people can hear and scan 'by quantity, and more can do so 'by stress,' and fewer still feel rhythm by what I would 1  call inner form of the line"  (Osiris, SP 38). By way of explanation, Pound suggests  that in a line such as ' " N e l mezzo del cammin di nostra vita... Some people will find the movement repeated in — 'Eyes, dreams, lips and the night goes.' And some will find it in — 'If you fall off the roof you'll break your ankle.' Some people will read it as if it were exactly the same 'shape' as the line which follows it — ' M i ritrovai per una selva oscura'. (Osiris, SP 38) Even to begin to understand the point Pound is trying to make here, some utterance and audition are necessary. repeated" until you  You cannot consider what he means by "movement  hear the various lines one after the other, until your ear attends  each of the patterns of sound in juxtaposition with one another.  The process of equating or comparing one sound quality with another, one rhythm with another, is as subjective and variable for language as it would be for colour. In "I Gather the Limbs of Osiris," Pound asks, "Can we have a more definite criterion of rhythm than we have of colour? Do any of us really see or hear in the same register?"  (Osiris, SP 38). Yet, at the same time, there are common features,  134  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  like the common elements which allow the four abbreviated images of the Chinese ideogram for red to function effectively together to convey the idea of R E D . Given the subjectivity of the ear and the variability of the voice, the poet must begin with elements of language that are commonly understood, the arbitrary signs (as the arbitrary symbols by which red is understood in the ideogram), while at the same time paying attention to the many ways of uttering and hearing those arbitrary signs (as the shades of red that vary from one symbol to another, and even from one specimen to another, from cherry to cherry).  In Arnaut Daniel, for example, Pound found a poet who took advantage of the great variability of the voice, and "discriminated between rhyme and rhyme." Daniel, Pound observes, understood that "the beauty to be gotten from a similarity of lineterminations depends not upon their multiplicity, but upon their action the one upon the other; not upon frequency, but upon the manner of sequence and combination"  (Osiris, SP 26). The arbitrary sign is essential, but what allows anything at all to happen is the variability and potential of the voice. Daniel thus achieved a kind of sound echo that Pound called "polyphonic rhyme," something beyond simple repetition with arbitrary signs. This kind of rhyme is not polyphonic in traditional terms; that is, it is not strictly speaking several voices rhyming at the same time. Rather, it is a rhyming that involves many different voices, and consequently many  135  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  different qualities of voice, so that one word is uttered variously yet still rhymes slightly, or several different words that normally would not rhyme are presented so that they do rhyme, even if roughly. According to Murray Schafer, Pound "learned the aesthetic of sound" from Daniel: . . . clear sounds (I'aura amara), opaque sounds (sols sui qui sai lo sobrafan quem son), tintinnabulations (cadahus en son us); and the effects to which shaggy rhymes (lets, bees, mutz) might be put by muddying the anticipated sound to produce echo or antiphony. (9) It is the subjectivity of the ear which allows things like "shaggy rhymes" and "opaque sounds" to work. In this respect, subjectivity of ear and variability of voice should not be ignored in composition; however, it is still important for the poet to base his choices on the appropriateness of sound and rhythm for the particular meaning of a word.  To determine the fitness of duration and stress, Pound explains that the poet must listen with care to the speaking voice, to "longer and shorter, heavier and lighter syllables, and the varying qualities of sound inseparable from the words of his speech" (ABCR 199). The syllable, Charles Olson suggests, "is the king pin of versification" for Pound; they are "what rules and holds together the lines, the larger form of a poem" (53). According to Pound, the poet should "pay some attention to the sequence, or scale, of vowels in the line, and of the vowels terminating the group  136  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  of lines in a series"  (ABCR  206).  This kind of attention is a far cry from the sort that  produces traditional end rhyme in English poetry — night-light-sight and so on. Instead it is the kind of attention you find in H . D . ' s poem "Heat" — "rend open the heat" — or in the opening lines of the Pisan Cantos — "The enormous tragedy of the dream in the peasant's / bent shoulders" [74/425]. Indeed, Pound was sufficiently interested in the length and weight of vowels, that he had his own vowels measured by French phonetician Abbe" J.P. Rousselot.  9  Pound also directs the poet to consider two factors that affect the duration and weight of syllables: "original weights and durations" and "weights and durations that seem naturally imposed on them by the other syllable groups around them" 199).  (ABCR  Which is to say, Pound expected the poet who behaved as a good musician to  consider not only the sounds of syllables in isolation and in their original form, but also to consider how the qualities of one syllable would affect the syllables before and/or after — just as a musician or composer would take into account the effects of one note/chord on those before and after. Applied to a discussion of the poetry of Rabindranath Tagore and Remy de Gourmont, these various notions of duration and stress/weight are related even more closely to music . . . the length of the syllables is considered, and the musical time of the bars is even. [Tagore's] measures are more interesting than any now being used in Europe, except those of certain of the most  137  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  advanced French writers, as, for instance, the arrangements of sound in Remy de Gourmont's Fleurs de Jadis or his Litanies de la Rose. ("Rabindranath Tagore" 571, qtd. in Sieburth 32) The concern is the same, but the vocabulary has shifted to include more musical terms. Duration and stress, measures and bars: arrangements of sound, the musical phrase.  Pound's own careful treatment of musical time and measures can be seen in his translations of Arnaut Daniel's canzoni, which Murray Schafer describes as "matchless for the sound, the way they reproduce the notes of the original" (9). Schafer also points out that, in addition to an aesthetics of sound, Pound learned a good deal about rhythm from Daniel, including "the difference of legato phrasing and stacatto, and all that lies between" along with the "function and effectiveness of rests" (9). He moved away from the metronome, in any strict sense, in favour of what he called "musical phrase," the natural rhythms of a language, choosing to derive rather than impose rhythms in verse. And although Pound did develop a strong interest in instruments that would measure sound, such as metronomes and phonoscopes, for example, it seems he treated them simply as tools for measuring and representing the original sounds, and not as devices to be used for establishing absolute control.  10  138  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  For Pound, word-melody and the musical phrase exist in the natural language of speech, and not in the formalized or stylized language of traditional poetry. Regular metre, as Pound observes, can be applied to or implanted in any text: . . . there is no form of platitude which cannot be turned into iambic pentameter without labour. It is not difficult, if one has learned to count up to ten, to begin a new line on each eleventh syllable or to whack each alternate syllable with an ictus. ("Prose Tradition" L E 3 7 6 ) 11  Such poetic form would carry no emotional energy, however. And Pound shared the concern of Rihaku (Li Po), that poets often "couldn't get any underlying rhythm into their  vers libre, that they got 'bubbles not waves'" ("Affirmations," SP 375), which is  to say no motion, no impulse — none of the force that would charge language over and above plain meaning. With true emotional energy, with patterned energy, "the 'thing' builds up a rhythm more beautiful than that of set metres, or more real, more a part of the emotion of the 'thing,' more germane, intimate, interpretative than the measure of regular accentual verse" ("Retrospect," LE 12). This rhythm would provide "at once a psychological and objective correlative of emotions and shade of emotion transcending both exegesis and vocabulary" (Kenner,  Poetry 115).  The natural language to be used in poetry, according to Pound, would possess the natural rhythm of the speaker, an inherently rhythmic inner form, or (in other terms) absolute rhythm:  139  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  . . . you begin with the yeowl and the bark, and you develop into the dance and into music, and into music with words, and finally into words with music, and finally into words with a vague adumbration of music, words suggestive of music, or words in a rhythm that preserves some accurate trait of the emotive impression, or of the sheer character of the fostering or parental emotion. ("Serious Artist," LE 51) The progression from yeowl to music to words suggestive of music represents the vital link between speech and music. It is the musical properties, rhythm and sonority, of a word which contain and convey the character of the "yeowl," the emotional and insentient traits. In the terms of Pound's concept of melopoeia, these are the things which induce "emotional correlations." A "man's rhythm," in this respect, "must be interpretative . . . in the end, his own, uncounterfeiting, uncounterfeitable."  This rhythm, together with the juxtaposition of words, generates  an energy that radiates through the text, the energy of the vortex.  Pound wanted the poet to study language without focussing on meaning because the musical qualities of language communicate on a more direct level with the audience, in the way that instrumental music does. The qualities of sound not directly linked with semantics or acting as semantic units can function strictly as sound — as note, rhythmic stress, or rest. Pound's interest in music and language was more complex than that. James Winn points out that "he progressed from the chordal, separate sonorities of Imagism to the intersecting melodic and contrapuntal lines of  140  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  The Cantos" (334). Pound insisted on a "strong lateral or horizontal motion" in music and in poetry  (Treatise 80). This principle does not preclude chordal moments,  but when they do occur, they function as emphatic punctuation in otherwise linear text. Winn suggests that Pound's work is like twelve tone music, "relentlessly linear," and that it "recovers true polyphony from the chordal mists of Impressionism" (335).  This horizontal motion works quite clearly with the various so-called themes in the poem, but on a subtler level with the phrases that echo for the ear — half light, ply over ply, and in the arena, for example. The notion of fugue, that Pound applies to ideogram, to Gaudier-Brzeska's sculpture, to Bach, and to  The Cantos, functions  on the level of text and also on the level of texture, voice. In other words, the idea of "arena" does not work as fugue just because the concept reappears; an echo of the words, working as direct communication in a musical sense  (melopoeia), marks the  contra-sujet, response, and so on. On a smaller scale, the same process occurs with single words, like Eleanor — Helenous — Helenoptolis, or beach-groove to Helenaus [2/6], also with Helenaus to a much later occurrence of "hymnous" [94/637].  If "the verse is made to speak," as Pound suggests, then the internal or inherent rhythms would be so appropriate and powerful that it would be virtually impossible to  141  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  set the text to any other (external) music: it may have in it that sort of rhythm which not only makes music unnecessary, but which is repulsive to it; or it may have a rhythm which can, by some further mastery, be translated into a music subtler than either poetry or music would have separately attained.  (Osiris, SP 37)  Yeats, for example, "brought in the sound of keening and the skirl of the Irish ballads" ("Later Yeats," LE 378).  In his own effort to develop a rhythm that "makes  music unnecessary," and to "preserve some accurate trait . . . of the fostering or parental emotion," Pound frequently introduces quotations that provoke utterance of a musical rather than oratorical nature and at the same time evoke a sense of the  viva  voce, with the speech rhythms of his characters.  Provoking utterance of the syllables and words, and awakening the ear, the text of  The Cantos functions like a musical or theatrical score, and to some degree has the  appearance of one. The recreation or evocation of the original situation, whether real or imaginary — results in what Korg calls "a sense of the actual presence of what he is quoting" and in a sense of the speech. As indicated earlier, Pound takes "pains to preserve . . . the details and peculiarities of his originals, a practice which accounts for such oddities as dates, abbreviations, foreign phrases, fractions and other typographical devices not normally found in poetry" (Korg, "Collage" 98).  Other  devices as well contribute to the process, including Pound's semi-phonetic spellings,  142  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  various abbreviations, Chinese ideograms, and representations of non-verbal expressions.  In some cases, the "details and peculiarities of his originals" draw attention to the aural qualities of the material that Pound quotes — even when the originals were written texts. Those peculiarities also convey information about how the quoted material may/should be read — loudly, with pauses, rhythmically, brokenly, in a particular slang dialect, etc. Sometimes there is also information about pronunciation, syllabic emphasis, or the duration of particular syllables. In sum, they provoke, invoke and evoke the various senses of the live man speaking: they "come to life in audition, or in the finer audition which one may have in imagining sound. One must 'hear' it, in one way or another" ("French Poets," MIN 188). Pound is tackling the same problem that faces ethnographers, mythographers and other scholars working to collect and preserve works of the oral traditions. When attempting to record and represent oral texts, there is a need for "sketching in at least the larger dimensions of the variability of voice" (Tedlock 9). Poetics has not provided models for the task. As Denis Tedlock points out: It is not just that phenomena of contouring, timing and amplitude have somehow been overlooked and present a new domain for decipherment, but that they have always resisted reduction to particulate units of the kind that can be ordered with a closed code. (9)  143  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  The difficulty is obvious: with oral literature,  "shades  of meaning are infinite,  whereas the deciphering eye allows no shadings" (Tedlock 9).  12  Specific information about how to read the text is conveyed by arrangement, syntax, orthography, typography, punctuation, diction, language, and spelling. These are the same physical features that make quotation highly visible and create a sense of interruption. But beyond interruption, they serve as reading "score." The term score is appropriate in this context, inasmuch as Pound shared Antheil's concern for using exact and unambiguous representation of "the printed shapes of music" to convey their "living sound in performance" (Schafer 474).  Indeed Pound defines the art of  music as "knowing what note you want; how long you want it held; and how long one is to wait for the next note, and in making the correct sign for these durations" ("Varia," EPM 292).  The task is not easy when it comes to poetry intended for the  ear. Tedlock suggests that we are more likely to obtain "good scansion," if "we give up the scansion of our literature teacher for the 'good timing' of our drama teacher, replacing readable measure with music teacher.  audible measure" (7). Or in Pound's terms, of our  13  In Pound's view, therefore, it is possible for composers and poets to represent sounds in written form and to provide precise information about how sounds should  144  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  be performed and/or heard. Pound credits both Stravinksy and Antheil with such careful notation: "Stravinsky's merit lies largely in taking hard bits of rhythm and noting them with great care. Antheil continues this . . . " (qtd. in Schafer 474). Antheil was quite conscious of this practice, and in editorial remarks about Le  Testament, he suggests that his notation is extremely precise, leaving no room for interpretation: As the opera is written in such a manner so that nothing at all is left to the singer, the editor would be obliged if the singer would not let the least bit of temperament in the least affect in the least the correct singing of this opera, which is written as it sounds! (qtd. in Schafer 474) On the one hand, this attitude suggests that performers are expected to slavishly follow the score. At the same time, however, a great performer would still be able to bring his own interpretation to the work, without being excessively restricted by the notation. Correct signs would not preclude creative interpretation: "Even with the best devices there will be enough left to the feel of the great interpreter" ("Varia," EPM  292).  Scoring a piece carefully is necessary to ensure that there is adequate information for good interpretation, for "the possibility of performable translation" (Tedlock 13). This score should make it possible for the reader to understand the text and the  145  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  performer to present the piece, not exactly, but with some real understanding of sound, rhythm and meaning: . . . lots of mediocre music is badly graphed, and a great deal is mediocre B E C A U S E the bad graphing indicates very loose conception on the part of the composer. (GK 198) This notion of bad graphing applies equally to music and to poetry. For example, the use of the upper case may suggest that a particular word or phrase should be uttered more loudly than the surrounding text. In Canto 4, for example, this line: " A N A X I F O R M I N G E S ! Aurunculeia!" [4/13]. Capital letters and exclamation marks create a sense not only of the force of the thought, but also the force and volume of the voiced cry. That Pound intended to suggest volume through typography is explicitly demonstrated in one of his musical reviews, written under the name William Atheling: To sing (sic) " O had I a HELL-met and doublet and hose"; to repeat this with increasing volume, such as cannot be rendered by any capital letters at our disposal, must be regarded as purely comic by any vigilant listener, (qtd. in Schafer 59) 14  In addition, the appearance of the two Greek words in Roman orthography almost makes utterance necessary — the visual characteristics of the Greek do little, especially for the reader who does not understand Greek. The Roman versions may even bring a sense of relief, insofar as the reader without Greek can at least attempt to iterate the words, and get a sense of their aural relationship to the surrounding text.  146  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  With these two exclaimed words, it is not so much an issue of m e a n i n g or appearance (as with the Chinese ideograms, for example), as it is an issue of sound. Even the reader who is familiar with the Greek still must deal with or interpret the capitalization and the exclamation points. Consequently, this particular presentation provokes utterance or audition, utterance that is at least partly directed by the appearance of the text. In Tedlock's terms, it is "open" text, rather than closed, and directs without being definitive.  Invocations, whether or not they contain quoted material, exemplify how the text can direct the reading. And there are many invocative phrases throughout The  Cantos'. Hear me. Cadmus of Golden Prows!  [4/13]  Saffron sandal so petals the narrow foot: Hymenaeus l o ! Hymen, lo Hymenase! Aurunculeia! [4/15] (O Mercury god of thieves, your caduceus is now used by the american army as witness this packing case) [77/471] singing: O sweet and lovely o Lady be good" [74/439]  147  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  In the Name of Omnipotent God and the Glorious Virgin our Advocate to the Gd Duke's honour and exaltation the Most Serene, Tuscanissimo Nostra Signore ZAGREUS! IOZAGREUS!  [43/215]  [17/76]  Invocations such as these, like H . D . ' s poem, " O Wind," evoke a sense of voice; they imply both live voice and listener — be they gods in the air, dead poets, signores or ladies. They are often brief, containing little more than a name and an interjectory word " O , " possibly a descriptive phrase. The phrases are fragmentary and do not flow in narrative line; rather they create a sense of the short impassioned cry, and of voice. Although not necessarily quotation themselves, many of the invocations include some quoted material (real or imaginary), or introduce quoted text.  There are also several examples of chants or incantation, where the style again evokes a strong sense of the live man speaking. Most notable is the well known Usury Canto:  With Usura With usura hath no man a house of good stone each block cut smooth and well fitting that design might cover their face, with usura hath no man a painted paradise on his church wall  harpes et luz  or where virgin receiveth message and halo projects from incision,  148  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  with usura seeth no man Gonazaga his heirs and his concubines no picture is made to endure nor to live with but it is made to sell and sell quickly with usura, sin against nature, is thy bread ever more of stale rags is thy bread dry as paper, with no mountain wheat, no strong flour with usura the line grows thick with usura is no clear demarcation and no man can find site for his dwelling. Stonecutter is kept from his stone weaver is kept from his loom WITH USURA wool comes not to market sheep bringeth no gain with usura usura is a murrain, usura [45/229] A sense of the chanting or incanting voice derives in part from the patterns of repetition — "with usura" occurring at the beginning of lines, and the inverted syntax that follows that phrase. Most of the verb forms are archaic, which emphasizes the inverted syntax and sets the piece in another time. Several other phrases recur, including "is thy bread" and "is kept from." These repetitions add to the sense of formulaic repetition that is so essential to incantation.  Towards the middle of the Canto, the phrase "with usura" appears more frequently, including one instance where it appears alone on one line, in capital letters. There is something of a climax at the mid-point, where the phrase "with  149  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  usura" appears at the end of the line, instead of the beginning, and immediately after the word "usura" appears at both the beginning and the end of the line: sheep bringeth no gain with usura usura is a murrain, usura Repetition of the word usura continues throughout the rest of the poem, but in new combinations: in "came not by usura", "not by usura" and "usura [+ action verb]". The Canto ends with a phrase that appears only once:  "at behest of usura." The  repetition of words, phrases and syntactic structures all contribute to a strong sense of rhythm. In the Usury Canto, the rhythm is well suited for incantation and chanting; Sieburth suggests that such passages have "liturgical resonance" (34). Sieburth also points out that the rhythmic pattern of incantation becomes "a rhythmic signature of sorts for Pound; variations on it course through the Cantos, often surfacing at moments of highest emotional tension" (34). Similar effects occur in the Compleynt Canto [30/147-49] and in Cantos 36 [177-80] and 90 [605-609], and in some sections of the Pisan Cantos.  There is an equally strong sense of  viva voce in the many conversational  questions and interrupted dialogue that occur throughout  The Cantos. To cite just a  few examples: To the effect: Did he think the campaign was a joy-ride?  150  [9/35]  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  "Could you", wrote M r . Jefferson, "Find me a gardener Who can play the french horn? [21/97] After the peace of Tilsit, where cd. I go but Spain?"  [34/165]  'You mean instead of collectin' taxes.' That office? Didja see the Decennio? [46/231]  'Cut it! you bastard' said Lin-Yun 'Do you take my neck for a whetstone?'  [55/290]  (made in Ragusa) and: what art do you handle? "The best" and the moderns? "Oh, nothing modern  [74/448  "Hey, Snag, wot are the books ov th'bibl'" "name'em, etc. "Latin? I studied latin." [76/454] In these examples, there is a strong sense of the actual presence of speaker and listener. We know not only what Jefferson and Lin-Yun thought or believed, but also how they sounded — their dialect, phrasing, patterns of breath, and speech rhythms. The way their words are presented directs the way in which they are read and/or heard. Question marks and exclamation points, for example, provide information about tone and emphasis, perhaps even volume. In addition, spelling determines some of the pronunciation, generating a sense of that natural language of speech that  151  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  Pound aimed for, rather than the more carefully enunciated expression of more formal written language — "collectin" and "didja" rather than collecting or did you, "books 1  ov th'bibl'" instead of "books of the bible," for example.  Phonetic transcriptions of quotations in different dialects are one of the best examples of text evoking a sense of live speech and serving as reading score. In some examples, it is helpful, perhaps even necessary, to sound out expressions in order to determine the actual words. With some abbreviated written forms — cud, wd., 2 Dec. '53 — for example, the only way to read them is with articulation; whether the reading is done silently or aloud, it is the ear and/or mind's ear working; that is, it is the ear more than the eye that makes sense of them. Take these examples: "c'mon, small fry," sd/the smaller black lad to the larger. "Just playin'" ante mortem no scortum [76/455]  A n ' the fuzzy bloke sez (legs no pants ever wd. fit) 'If that is so, any government worth a damn can pay dividents?' [46/231] The eye scans the line, but it is the ear and not the eye that decodes the information needed to make full sense of the text, that turns "sd" into said, "wd" into would.  152  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  In other cases, audition is needed in order to identify particular words, to understand inflections, and/or to sort out the rhythm. Take, for example, these passages: Waal haow is it you're over here, right off the And how can yew be here?  Champz Elyza? [19/84]  "Gard, yeh bloudy 'angman! It's me".  [28/133]  "You know for seex mon's of my life "Effery night when I go to bett, I say to myself:  [20/90]  'You Christers wanna have foot on two boats an when them boats pulls apart you will d/n well git a wettin" said a court mandarin  [61/336]  "Ef my bull-dog" said M r Bishop to a co-detenuto "had a face like yours, hang'd if I wouldn't shave his arse and make him walk backwards."  "an' moh religions", said Lightfoot "thanna dawg is got hairs on its back".  [89/596]  [100/716]  In some of the words in these lines, the duration of syllables is lengthened — vowel sounds are simply prolonged, or are stretched and changed into diphthongs — "waal", "haow", "dawg", and "bloudy", for example. In other instances, the opposite occurs  153  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  and syllables are foreshortened, contracted — "an' moh", "playin", "hang'd" and '"angman" — or one word is elided into another — "c'mon", "thanna", "wanna".  Sometimes the spelling of a word alters its pronunciation: voiced consonants are changed into unvoiced ones, for example — "dividents", "effery", "bett"; vowels become tighter or looser: If [if] becomes "Ef" [efj; get [get] becomes "git" [git]; you [yii] becomes "yeh" [ye]. Or a vowel sound is altered with the addition of a consonant — in "arse" the a has shifted from [a] to [au], in "Gard" it has shifted from [a] to [au]; and in "Champz" from [a] to [a] or [o]. Variant spellings do not always alter pronunciation: "Thet kan speak E N G L I S H ? " [28/136]. The word "kan" will sound scarcely any different than "can". However, the reading and iteration processes are altered slightly by the change, with the sense that some effort must go into the pronunciation.  The various changes to spelling affect not only sound but also rhythm. In "Waal haow is it you're over here . . . " for example, the elongated diphthongs — "aal" and "aow" — turn simple monosyllabic words into drawling polysyllabic words. And in the next line — "And how can yew be here?" — a similar lengthening occurs with "yew." This second question is essentially the same as the first, but the rewording and variation in syllabic duration cause the emphasis to shift from "haow" and  154  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  "Champz Elyza?" to "yew" and "here?" In contrast, the question, "any government worth a damn can pay dividents?" is made all the more abrupt or clipped by the unvoiced final t. This one letter also prompts a rise in pitch that is needed for the question, which might otherwise go unnoticed, given the syntax.  A sense of abruptness also occurs in "Effery night when I go to bett, I say to myself," as a result of the unvoiced/and t in "effery" and "bett." Those two sounds provoke aspiration that their voiced counterparts, v and d, would not, resulting in a clipped or choppy rhythm and sound in the line. These clipped sounds contrast sharply with the various lengthened syllables in the surrounding lines — "seex" and "no/gandres" for example. These particular variant spellings reflect some of the speech habits of people speaking English as a second language, using, for example, the phonetic rules of their original language.  Variant spellings can also point to patterns of sound. The pattern of sound moving between the [e] of "effery", "bett", "self and the [i] in "night" and "I" — "Effery night when I go to bett, I say to myself:" [20/90] — repeats and varies in surrounding lines: "And he said, Noigandres! NOIgandres!" and "Noigandres, eh, noz'gandres." Similarly, in "you will d/n well git a wettin' said a court mandarin," the use of "git" draws attention to an assonance of [i], in wz7/-gz>wetti/t'-mandarin, as  155  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  a counterpart for the [e] in whe«-uV/n-we//-wertin'.  In addition, in the sequence of  vowel sounds, there is progression from the looser [e] to the tighter [i], a more difficult progression than from tight to loose vowels. In "you will d/n well git," the [i] in "git" thwarts expectations on two levels: first, in the shift to the pronounced slang dialect; and second, in the shift up to [i].  Inasmuch as the vowel sounds move in a direction that is generally more difficult and perhaps less expected (loose to tight), they create a roughness in sound, emphasizing the shaggy rhymes of "will" and "well-", "git" and "-tin". Such progression is related to the quality of the sounds, or in Burke's terms it is "qualitative progression" — . . . the presence of one quality prepares us for the introduction of another . . . . In T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land, the step from "Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight" to "Good night ladies, good night" is a qualitative progression. . . . We are prepared less to demand a certain qualitative progression than to recognize its rightness after the event. We are put into a state of mind which another state of mind can appropriately follow. (Counter-Statement 124-5) Expectation of this sort occurs with musical notes, in the form of tone-leading: "certain notes played in sequence call for other notes, for a 'resolution'." The same sort of expectation can arise in speech, with sequences of vowels sounds. If such expectations are thwarted, you get the kind of effect that occurs in "you will d/n well gitawettin."  156  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  While spelling sometimes makes audition necessary for identifying words, and for apprehending the rhythm, other typographical devices make audition necessary for apprehending the tone or particular texture of the material. Capital letters or italics used for one syllable in a word, for example, or for a full word in the middle of a sentence that is otherwise set in lower-case roman type, conveys information not just about meaning, but also about syllabic or word stress, volume, emphasis, about the particular tone of the syllable or word, and the rhythm of the sentence or line. Capitalization and italics thus play a role in the rhythm and sound of lines: And he said: Noigandres! NOIgandres! "You know for seex mon's of my life "Effery night when I go to bett, I say to myself: "Noigandres, eh, /w/gandres, "Now what the D E F F I L can that mean!"  [20/89-90]  The utterance of the syllable "noi" changes significantly with each appearance, for several reasons. First, in each case the syllable preceding the word is different — "said", "-dres", "-self and "eh." Secondly there are exclamation marks after the first two occurrences, and commas after the other two. Add to that the typographic emphasis, and the changes are much greater. Capitalization of NOI occurs in the second instance of the word, along with the exclamation marks, and italics are used in the fourth and last instance. The italics point to emphasis and to foreigness, more than to volume (partly because capitals were used in the previous example).  157  Thus  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  there is, it seems, a shift from exclamation to reflection, and volume is saved for "DEFFIL."  The most obvious example of capitalization suggesting volume is in Canto 86: "On these occasions  HE talks."  [86/568]  Line breaks and spacing before and after the word " H E " emphasize the size of the type, and isolate the word. Visual and aural space both contribute to a sense of increased volume.  15  In some situations capitalization affects syllabic stress and pronunciation as much or more than volume: in the city or wheresoever R E E sponsibility quocunque aiunde [43/217] The capitalization and spelling of the prefix of "responsibility" suggest greater than usual volume and duration for that one syllable. These effects are emphasized by the hyphen and line break. Incidentally, the remainder of the word (which is of latinate origin) ends up after the hyphen on a line with latin text. The same hyphenation and capitalization occurs a page later, but with "sponsibility" on a line by itself. These  158  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  two occurrences also echo a similar hyphenation near the beginning of the canto, "most ample dee-liberation" [43/215]. In this case, the prefix is not capitalized, and the word is not interrupted by a line break. Still the later appearance of " R E E - " reminds us of that earlier example.  Spelling and hyphenation also work in concert to affect to the rhythm of lines: "Jeen-jah! Jeen-jah!" squawked Mohamed, "O-ah, geef heem sax-pence." [22/103] Once again the duration of syllables is lengthened by spelling — gin- to "jeen-", gerto "jah-",  give to "geef and him to "heem." The hyphens work as slight hesitation  or breath, as musical rest, with that breath a fundamental rhythmic element of the repeated cry. At the same time, exclamation marks and the verb "squawked" convey a sense of the tone or quality of the voice. The net effect in this passage is something like a street cryer, crying out, prolonging and separating syllables, so that the rhythm and sound attract the buyer, not the word or its meaning. Like the musical cry of "I Scream," that used to call children into the streets in the summer. No matter how distorted, the sound signals, and not the words.  159  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  This kind of typographic information about the sounds of particular passages, or scoring for the reading voice, appears throughout the Cantos, even for some nonverbal sounds: 'Mn-YAWWH!!!' said the left front ox, suddenly, ' p n A W H ! ' as they tied on his red front band, St George, two hokey-pokey stands and the unicorn 'Nicchio! Nicch-iO-nd!!'  [43/216-7]  The two utterances of the ox are not semantic units, but both have what appears and sounds like the same base, " - A W H , " and the verb "said" suggests speech. The first phrase begins with a nasal consonant, and is hyphenated into two syllables, with the second one prolonged to " - Y A W W H " and followed by three exclamation marks, suggesting a loud, long and emphatic groan. The second sound begins with a labial stop, involving forced and interrupted air; it is shorter but more forceful, perhaps an expression of disgust at the indignity of the red band. In both cases, the typography conveys information about how to utter the sounds, sounds for which there are only approximate equivalents in the English language ("aw" and "ah" for example). The same thing that happens with the ox's noises occurs with the name in the final line, "Nicchio! Nicch-iO-nd!!" The capital " O " has a direct impact on the sound and rhythm of the name, affecting how it is uttered rather than any particular semantic feature.  160  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  Ellipses often suggest information about the sound or pace of certain phrases: Borah: "Eh . . . e . . . N o , I . . . eh . . . can't say that e . . . exactly."  [89/592]  In these lines, the ellipses reflect the speaker's hesitation, interrupting and disrupting his words, even his syllables. In other cases, ellipses can orchestrate the rhythm of syllables and words: Tin.,  fan... terie K O H loni-ale"  [28/137]  Working as musical rest, ellipses control the pace of the word "infanterie" for the ear, as the three hyphens do in "coloniale."  In the second word, however, two of the  hyphens occur with line breaks, as well as extensive spacing, and even some capitalization. The initial syllable of the word is not only capitalized, but also presented in a variant spelling. These features all work together to direct the audition of the words, to give the ear information about the sound and the silences of the phrases — "the spaces in speech" (Schneidau, "Wisdom Past Metaphor" 24).  The final syllables — "i-ale" — present an additional possibility. They appear on one line, with no capitals or other features to suggest volume or emphasis;  yet there  is a hyphen. This hyphen ensures separation of the syllables, which would normally slide together. However, it may also suggest a drop in pitch and volume, given that "i-ale" is at the end of the word, and is located below and to the right of the rest of  161  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  the syllables.  That possibility is reinforced by a progression of vowel sounds  in the word — from a tight high vowel, to a more relaxed lower one. Pound mentions this sort of drop in a review of Le Manage of Figaro: The English libretto lost the magnificent line of the Italian, the complete tragedy of the fall of voice in: E come sei pallida E tacit E mor-ta. ("Music: Le Mariage de Figaro" 64) The drop in "mor-ta" is conveyed by a hyphen, and suggests a way of reading "i-ale." Assuming that the bits of rhythm have been noted with care, and that the text has been written "as it sounds," then the appearance of "KOH-/lon-/i-ale" conveys a considerable amount of information about both the sound, duration and rhythm of the word and/or the individual syllables.  Taking these practices even further, Pound sometimes explicitly indicates that a particular representation of a word is to be pronounced in a particular way: "The country is overbrained" said the hungarian nobleman in 1923.  Kosouth (Ku'shoot) used, I understand  To sit in a cafe" — all done by conversation —  [37/189]  Readers are not left on their own to invent pronunciations, or to skip over the name without uttering it; rather they are prompted with information about the sound and duration of the vowel sounds, and information about aspiration and hesitation between syllables. The phonetic aside forces a recursive reading, and also provokes utterance  162  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  and/or the attendance of the ear — for anything at all to occur in the dance of intellect  (logopceia), for it to come alive or make sense, the one form must play against the other in the ear.  There are similar asides about the tone and pronunciation of words. In Canto 77, for example, there is this line: "there is nothing, italics  nothing, they will not do"  [77/464]. The aside informs the eye how to utter the word "nothing," for the benefit of the ear, an instruction that would not be necessary for a text intended only for the eye, a text that was merely written. In another example, there are explicit external instructions on pronunciation: Ciudad de los Angeles. That g sounded as h.  [89/598]  The directive sends eye and ear back to sound the word, Angeles. Understanding comes through the audition, not visualization. And where the ear cannot understand, as with "This country is really supposed to be on the eve of a X T Z B K 4 9 H T , " there is an aside, explaining why the text is unintelligible to the ear:  "(parts of this letter in  cypher)" (31/154). Such passages serve as reminders that to read is to translate the visual into the aural, to bring the printed page to life for the inner ear. The asides interrupt the reading flow, and in some respects distance the reader from the text, with the reminder that one is reading. Yet at the next turn, through the necessary  163  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  audition, the reader is drawn closer again to the text, but to the melopoeia rather than the logopoeia.  In many Cantos, Chinese Ideograms or Greek words that are not accessible for most English speaking readers appear with translations, transliterations or roman equivalents: Knowing less than drugged beasts, phtheggometha thasson (pQeyywfxeQa 6aaaov [47/236]  as on the T a n g tub: Renew  hsin renew Plus the luminous eye [93/629]  The form manageable for the reading ear, even if not comprehensible, enables the visual counterpart to work. Korg suggests that explanatory texts "drain the original forms of their semantic effect, making them shapes rather than words" ("Collage"  164  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  100).  A t the same time, however, they direct the reader back to the ear, and work  like the many different forms of keywords and catchwords in oral literature.  Finally, in Canto 86, Pound repeatedly uses the phrase "end quote" after quoted material. Two examples: "ne inutile quiescas."  end quote  [86/567]  "in eleven days we will go into Sui, prepare your provisions." end quote.  [86/568]  This is the kind of thing that we must do in oral situations to let the listener know that the quoted material is finished. And it is something that Pound did often in his radio broadcasts.  This is yet another example of written text directing the oral, and all  creating a sense of actual presence, of live man speaking.  With all of Pound's quotations, in shifts from one language to another, one dialect to another, from asides or introductory material to quoted material, the various changes in sound or rhythm patterns function as musical forms — like counterpoint. Such patterns may also occur without the more audible and visible signals. They may, for example, involve shifts from formal to informal, written to spoken language, or one speaker to another. Where they occur, the patterns create or resemble musical forms.  165  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  In Canto 8, for example, with the quoted letters of Sigismundo, counterpoint occurs in the rhythm, between introductory and signatory material and the body of the letter. The preliminary and opening material: Frater tamquam Et compater carissime: tergo ...hanni de ..dicis ...entia  [8/28]  Final paragraph of the letter and signatory material: For I mean to give him good treatment So that he may come to live the rest Of his life in my lands — Unless you put him off it — And for this I mean to make due provision, So that he can work as he likes, Or waste his time as he likes (affdtigandose per suo piacere o no non gli manchera la provixione mai) never lacking provision. SIGIMUNDUS P A N D O L P H U S D E M A L A T E S T I S In campo Mus. Domini Venetorum die 7 aprilis 1449 contra Cremonam and because the aforesaid most illustrious Duke of Milan Is content and wills that the aforesaid Lord Sigismundo Go into the service of the most magnificent commune of the Florentines [8/29] While this is a letter, the tone is conversational and the speaking voice shines through much of the main text. The rhythms of that speaking voice — "So that he can work as he likes," — contrast sharply with the rhythms of the dictatorial voice in the  166  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  signature lines — "In campo Mus. Domini Venetorum di 7" — and the formal, legalistic voice in the lines following the signature — "Is content and wills that the aforesaid Lord Sigismundo."  In Cantos 18-19, the voices shift constantly, and as Pound says "you tell who is talking by the noise they make."  16  Integral to the "noise they make" is the rhythm  of their speech. Each of the many voices has its own distinctive rhythm. For example, ole man Comley Never cherr terbakker! Hrwwkke tth! Never cherr terbakker! Joe I dressed in the costume, used to like the cafes, A l l of us settin' there on the ground Dr Wymans "It was marrvelous... Gallipoli... Secret. Turks knew nothing about it. Second Baronet Thass a funny lookin' buk" said the Baronet " W u . . . W u . . . wot you goin'eh to do with ah... "...ah read-it?" Juvenatus "Matter is the lightest of all things, "Chaff, rolled into balls, tossed, whirled in the aether "Undoubtedly crushed by the weight, "Light also proceeds from the eye;  167  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  It is not just a matter of dialect, of vocabulary. Repetition, diction, syntax, rhyme — phonetic representation of the ole man Comley's tobacco spit, and his twice-said adage;  17  the fragments of the doctor; and the stuttering of the Second Baronet, for  example: word melody and each one's own uncounterfeitable rhythm. If you deleted the names, each character would still be recognizable, as would the shifts from one voice to another — "The cicadas continue uninterrupted" [29/143], but the sound and the rhythm of their voices vary.  For some quotations, on the other hand, rhythms of the quoted material echo and/or blend with those of the context. Canto 20, for example: Sound slender, quasi tinnula, Ligur' aoide: Si no'us vei, Domna don plus mi cal, Negus vezer mon bel pensar no val." Between the two almond trees flowering, The viel held close to his side; And another: s'adora". "Possum ego naturae non meminisse tuae!" Qui son Properzio ed Ovidio. The boughs are not more fresh where the almond shoots take their March green. [20/89] Even through the changes in language, the rhythm established by "Sound slender, quasi tinnula" carries throughout the canto.  Or the Adams Cantos. Pound describes Jefferson and Adams as "a still workable  168  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  dynamo, left us from the real period." In the "series of letters exchanged . . . during the decade of reconciliation after their disagreements" ("Jefferson-Adams," SP 147), the alternating voices easily blur together. The blurring occurs because of their similarities: both wrote "excellent prose," could "give a serious answer to a serious question," and had national minds ("Jefferson-Adams," SP 147). It is a not a matter of having similar thoughts, but of approaching "intelligent conversation" in similar ways. Adams to Jefferson:  "You and I ought not to die before we have explained  ourselves to each other" (15 July 1813; "Jefferson-Adams," SP 158). Although what they inquire about differs, the way of exploring is similar, hence the echos in their voices.  As mentioned earlier, quotations also serve as interludes or structured rest, as they do in song and in conversation. Kenner comments on these interludes: "The pause in time resembles a disjunction in space: a line having been arrested before its direction grows obvious, the intent eye is confronted by a sudden node, unforeseeable, a new structure, new directions" (Era 13). In addition to that space of new possibilities, such structured rest introduces space in which something else can occur: musical rest where the soloist can take a breath or change grips in a concerto; idle chatter where the speaker can shape another, or a new, idea. Schafer suggests that Pound "learned the function and effectiveness of rests" from Arnaut Daniel (9).  169  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  The important point here is that Pound understood rests, as he understood that a viol is not a violin.  In his essay on "Vers Libre," Pound calls such rests "excellent grace." He quotes Rousseau with respect to musical pauses, in a discussion of the "terms of the sister arts . . . [that] have a direct bearing on poetry, or at least on versification" —  "the thing to be done, is but only to make a kind of Cessation, or standing still. . . in  due place an excellent grace" (Maitre de Musique et de Viole 1687; qtd. in "Vers  Libre," LE 438).  Also, Pound comments on the use and value of such rest, or what  he calls musical "holiday" — Song demands now and again passages of pure sound, of notes free from the bonds of speech, and good lyric masters have given the musicians this holiday with stray nonsense lines or with "Hallelujah" and Alba" and "Hey-nonny-nonny," asking in return that the rest of their words be left in statu. (Osiris, SP 39) Rest of this sort serves to separate and frame the words that are to "be left in statu," or to allow breath and resolution, after or in the midst of difficult passages.  Pound  also like ideograms because they contain silence. And this silence is like the silence of the pause before a note played on a harpsichord, letting breath in so that the note will gain the appearance of greater volume, stress. Also the silence that raises expectations, anticipation.  170  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  Silence of the holiday variety, or bits pure sound, occurs frequently in The  Cantos. To cite just a few examples: — repeated invocation, O Lynx keep watch on my fire.  [79/489]  O Lynx, keep the edge on my cider  [79/491]  — a repeated title, " L a Donna" said Nicoletti  "la donna,  la donna!"  [74/427]  — phrases that function like refrains,  Lawes and Jenkyns guard thy rest Dolmetsch ever be thy guest, [81/519] Dionisio et Eleutherio. Dionisio et Eleutherio  [95/647]  — and phrases that suggest songs, Oh to be in England ... Down, Derry-down /  [80/514] [83/536]  In all these cases, meaning is secondary to the sound, to the musical rest. In some cases, when a word or phrase is repeated often, the sound gradually acquires more  171  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  significance, with each appearance, while the meaning changes or fades: for example, words like donna, Ityn, and lynx. This is the opposite process to that which occurs with single words that suggest entire texts or philosophies, such as "omnia."  These examples point to the visual nature of Pound's text. Again and again it is the visual features which mark quotation, draw attention to quoted material and its sources. Yet those same visual features continually speak to the ear, provoking utterance, requiring audition. If there is a tendency to repeat certain images, certain "type" characters, certain phrases, there is also a tendency to repeat the patterns used for marking quotation. At both levels of form and content,  The Cantos contain what  Havelock calls "the acoustic pattern of echo and response characteristic of purely a oral poem" (296).  172  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  1. In an earlier essay, "Marianne Moore and Mina Loy" (1918) Pound defines melopoeia as "poetry which moves by its music, whether it be a music in the words or an aptitude for, or suggestion of, accompanying music" (SP 424). Here too it is the first item on his list. However, in ABC of Reading, melopoeia is listed second, after phanopoeia (63). 2. Each of these "kinds of poetry" represents one way to "charge language with meaning to the utmost degree" (ABCR 63). 3.  See Chapter 4 for explanation of Dundes' theory of text, texture and context.  4. Phanopoeia can be translated "almost, or wholly, intact." Logopoeia, on the other hand, "does not translate; though the attitude of mind it expresses may pass through a paraphrase. Or one might say, you can not translate it 'locally,' but having determined the original author's state of mind, you may or may not be able to find a derivative or an equivalent" ("Read," LE 25). 5. Pound pointedly acknowledged that, after twenty-seven years of work on the subject, he did not "yet know half there is to know about melopoeia" ("Read," LE 27). 6. Pound was very critical of the "the divorce" of poetry and music; he argued that the separation "had been to the advantage of neither, and that melodic invention declined simultaneously and progressively with their divergence. The rhythms of poetry grew stupider, and they in turn affected or infected the musicians who set poems to music" ("George Antheil"; qtd. in Schafer 256). 7. Arguably, this distortion is part of the process of charging the language with meaning to the utmost degree, part of the emotional energy in the word that makes melopoeia move. 8.  For Pound, reading the thing as rhetoric would be unacceptable, degenerate: There is the slighter 'technique of manner, a thing reducible almost to rules, a matter of 'j's' and 'd's', of order and sequence, a thing attenuable, a thing verging off until it degenerates into rhetoric. (Osiris, SP 34) 1  173  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  9. Schafer credits Stephen Adams for drawing his attention to this incident (Note 21, 475). Rousselot had invented an instrument called a phonoscope for measuring vowel quantities. Rousselot's work is described in Principes de phone'tique experimentale Volum I & II (Paris 1897 & 1908). 10. See Schafer's Note 21, 475, where he mentions Pound's "strange about-face from an early mistrust in the metronome and all such mechanistic devices to his later fanatical respect for such instruments." Schafer goes on to suggest that Pound's reverence for such matters faded, at least by Canto 77. He came to distrust the reliance on mechanical devices as substitutes for human apperception. 11. Pound also points out that ". . . it is of course much easier to make something which looks like 'verse' by reason of having a given number of syllables, or even of accents, per line, than for him to invent a music or rhythm structure. Hence the prevalence of 'regular' metric" ("Prose Tradition," LE 376). 12. Tedlock astutely observes that "Where linguists once saw alphabetic literacy as a code in need of economization, mythographers who seek to make performable scripts must see a poverty of expressive means" (9). 13. Indeed, Pound remarks on the different requirements for reading texts and performance scripts: " A reading version might omit various things which would be of true service only if the English were actually to be sung on a stage, or changed to the movements of the choric dance or procession" ("Early Translators," LE 272). The reference here is to Aeschylus'  Agamemnon. 14.  Ethnographers and mythographers also use capitalization to represent volume.  15.  See also the similar arrangement of text on page 565, Canto 86.  16. "As to Cantos 18-19, there ain't no key. Simplest parallel I can give is radio where you tell who is talking by the noise they make" (Nov. 29 1924, Paige Collection at Yale University).  174  Bars, Rhythm Units & Melopoeia  17. In " A Visiting Card," Pound comments on a phonetic representation by L . Zukofsky: "In his tour de force L . Zukofsky gives a phonetic representation of an American chewing chewing-gum" ("Henry James," LE 325). See also the preface to Active Anthology.  175  C H A P T E R SIX  Voices of Persuasion  Both measure the specifics and grasp the sensations and experiences behind the laying-down of those particulars, to invoke the original experience, the originating state of mind, It is the difference between an exhaustive list of particulars and a schematic performing a number of exhaustive lists of particulars (which permits to anyone their filling-in). The power of persuasion, the power of giving the experience does not come from the photographic, the documentary, the 'accounting.' (Davies and Piombino, "The Indeterminate Interval: From History to Blur" 33)  176  Voices of Persuasion  It should be clear, given their interruptive and oral qualities, that quotations in  The Cantos operate with extraordinary rhetorical force. It is hardly surprising, in light of their sheer diversity as sketched so far, that the wealth of rhetorical effects and resources in  The Cantos cannot be exhaustively or definitively catalogued and  described. Such a catalogue is in any case of limited value. In this chapter, I do not propose to attempt a full sketch so much as to outline the major rhetorical devices in order to demonstrate their effects. Pound makes use of traditional resources and converts them to his own end, as in the use of quotation as (and not as) authority, thus affording a play between two seeming contraries, paralleling the play of eye and ear, orality and literacy, which runs through form of  The Cantos. It is this sort of play — a  logopceia, melopoeia, phanopoeia — which is the source of the great energy o  the poem.  The appeal to authority is a traditional function of quotation, one that can be traced back as far as the art of rhetoric itself. In fact, it is often the only function of quotation that rhetoricians and critics address. Classical rhetoric texts say relatively little about how quotation affects an audience, or how it works as invention, for example, compared with other devices, such as examples and enthymemes. The more traditional rhetoricians generally express greater concern for the practice of  imitatio  than with actual quotation. Antoine Compagnon makes this observation: " L a  177  Voices of Persuasion  rhdtorique ancienne, un £tat stable de la citation, depuis Aristote jusqu'a Quintilien, quand lui est reconnue une valeur dialectique ou logique. L'entreglose s'y d£tache sur fond de la  mimesis,  et de la condamnation de celle-ci par Platon" (11).  Most  rhetoricians, however, use quotation a great deal in their own works, usually as evidence and example. Moreover, they do advise how and when a speaker should employ quotation in an appeal to authority, and specify what types of authors to turn to for that authority.  1  In using quotations as appeal to authority, an author would be seeking to endow her/his own character or text with those values generally associated with the original speaker and text — credibility or wisdom, for example. In this situation, the speakers who quote borrow more than just text and source — they borrow the original speakers to improve their own ethos and strengthen their argument — a way of acquiring respect and power by association. The identity of a source is vital because of the potential impact it can have on the value of the material quoted and that of the person quoting it. Original sources are acknowledged explicitly, therefore, unless they are so obvious as to be unnecessary.  This relatively straightforward kind of appeal to authority dates back at least to ancient Greece, and the first written records of rhetoric. Aristotle comments on such  178  Voices of Persuasion  authoritative sources in his discussion of non-artistic proofs. He identifies two classes of witnesses, "(1) ancient [time honored, venerable], and (2) recent [viva voce]": By ancient witnesses are meant the poets and other men of note whose judgements are on record. Thus the Athenians cited the testimony of Homer in regard to Salamis. . . . Recent witnesses are [first] any notable persons who have pronounced judgement on some matter; their judgements are useful to those who are contending about the same issues. Thus Eubulus quoted in the law-court, against Chares, the saying of Plato . . . with regard to Archibius. (Rhetoric 1.15, 82-83) Aristotle's preference was for the ancient witness. "Most credible of all," he explains, "are the ancient witnesses, since there is no possibility of corrupting them" (1.15, 82-83). Longinus, on the other hand, turns to the ancients only as imaginary critical audience — "imagine, if only in play, that we have to give an account of our literary stewardship to these giants as our judges and witnesses" (23). Whether ancient or recent, supporting or judgmental, they must be persons "of note" — the key to their effectiveness and value is their public image. And the worth of the words depends on the estimated value of the character credited with uttering them in the original or some previous situation.  The same attitude is evident in the ancient oral tradition of Israel. Birger Gerhardsson explains that "Authentic statements contained the authority and power of the one who uttered them," and as a result the "reverence and care for the  179  ipsissima  Voices of Persuasion  verba of each authority remains unaltered . . . the views of the old masters; their words were quoted — together with the name of the one who had uttered them" (Gerhardsson 130-131). These theories of quotation in the Rabbinic tradition run parallel to those of the ancient Greek, at least with respect to appeals to authority. These beliefs about quotation and authority persisted in rhetorical theory and were later adopted by literary critics.  In nineteenth-century rhetoric, the subject comes up in the work of British rhetorician, Richard Whately. Whately adopts a classical view of the witness, but adds a cautionary note, advising the orator against using such witnesses if they will appear as "excess of proof (Whately, Elements Pt. I, Ch III, §8). On the contrary, Ralph Waldo Emerson believes that every society is deeply indebted to its past in a variety of ways — "a vast mental indebtedness" he calls it — and that "the highest statement of new philosophy complacently caps itself with some prophetic maxim from the oldest learning" ("Quotation and Originality" 171).  Edmund Burke also  takes a traditional approach: "He that borrows the aid of an equal understanding, doubles his own; he that uses that of a superior elevates his own to the stature of that he contemplates" (quoted by Emerson, "Quotation & Originality" 170). reputation and status of the source are critical factors.  180  Again the  Voices of Persuasion  Similar attitudes to quotation and authority are found in the practices of people with living oral traditions. In an oral culture, a quotation's link to an expert is its most important feature. The expert may be a particular individual or a universal/ collective figure — unnamed elders from previous generations perhaps. According to the Igbo of Africa, for example, "the proverb gives credence to what you are saying; it is quoting the experts" (quoted by Penfield, 3). Penfield explains that "Authoritativeness is bestowed on the quote by virtue of its association with the highly respected authorities of the community, the 'experts'" (8). In the end, how much authority a given quote will acquire, and how effective or strong the effects will be, are both "determined more by the association with experts than with any other property of the quote" (8).  In twentieth century Western rhetoric, the appeal to authority becomes an appeal to experts. Chaim Perelman, for example, says that the "normal role" of quotation is "backing up a statement with the weight of authority" (177). But he does not link that weight of authority to persons of note. Edward P.J. Corbett does make such a connection, but instead of petitioning persons of note, he identifies persons with expertise: We tend to grant more credence to the testimony of experts than to the testimony of amateurs; we place more faith in the opinions of those who pronounce on matters connected with their field of knowledge than in the opinions of those  181  Voices of Persuasion  speaking outside their field of competence. Rhetoric  (Classical  138)  In its most extreme form, such testimony manifests in the advertising industry, where famous figures testify to the quality of given products. As Corbett says, "the persuasive force of a testimonial" could derive solely "from the esteem we have for the person or the achievements of the one offering the recommendation" Rhetoric  139).  (Classical  For this kind of appeal to authority, actual quotation has been  replaced by the video tape, but the underlying process is essentially the same — a variation on L i ' s "actual presence."  And the message may be overshadowed by the  notable person's presence, so that the actual substance of a text has little or no effect on the audience.  Quotations that function as appeal to authority are used when speakers wish to establish their own ethos, to demonstrate to the audience their own credibility, expertise or knowledge; or when they need to distance themselves from words that are difficult or critical. For example, in cases where a speaker must list her/his own virtues, or when she/he must criticize someone who could in turn bring harm. Quotation can thus be a protective or depersonalizing device. According to Aristotle, therefore, quotation should be used when a speaker runs the risk of seeming arrogant, combative, or simply unkind. He urges the speaker to "put into the mouth of a third  182  Voices of Persuasion  person" any comments that "if you say them of yourself, will bring you dislike, or will be tedious, or will arouse contradiction; and things which, if you say them of another, will make you appear abusive or ill-bred" (Rhetoric 3.17, 236-7).  2  The  identity of that third person is crucial: a respected witness in such cases would help to create a positive and credible ethos for the speaker; but if the witness is not a person of note, the words will have little or no impact.  Again, this approach to quotation and authority is found in living oral cultures. In a 1971 study of proverbs, Jan Mukafovsky says that proverbs are often used as quotes "to indicate something the speaker for whatever reason does not wish to say directly" (quoted in Penfield 3). Perelman points out that, irrespective of his wishes . . . a speaker runs the risk that the hearer will regard him as intimately connected with his speech" (317). A speaker can use quotation, provided it is very clearly marked, to change such perceptions of her/his relationship to the text. Depersonalization, for example, allows a speaker to deliver a message indirectly and impersonally; it "allows the speaker to bring out a very sensitive matter in a non-definite or abstract manner" (Penfield 5). Penfield shows how proverbs are used to depersonalize in the Igbo tradition, for correcting inappropriate behaviour and to "insult an addressee in front of others" (5). Using quoted proverbs in this way protects both speaker and addressee — the speaker from retaliation, and the addressee from shame, for example. Thus an  183  Voices of Persuasion  elder can point out an error to a member of the group, without making a direct accusation, and can avoid an interpersonal conflict.  Pound's own works echo this perspective:  "I believe that Greek myth arose  when someone having passed through delightful psychic experience tried to communicate to others and found it necessary to screen himself from persecution" ("Psychology and the Troubadours" 43-44). This seems to me a particularly interesting and revealing comment, especially the words "necessary to screen himself." Pound had several opportunities to revise this essay (and he was an inveterate reviser), but he chose to let it stand. His use of the word "screen" calls to mind Kenneth Burke's theory of terministic screens. The screens in Pound's situation, however, would deflect the audience away from the speaker, and depersonalize the communication somewhat — to protect the speaker; whereas Burke's terministic screens would reflect (and reveal) the speaker and reality to the audience, yet at the same time act as a "selection" and therefore a "deflection" of reality.  3  Burke's screens are inherent in all words, which enables language to  function on both private and universal levels. To relate one of those psychic experiences would involve communicating on a universal level, and yet require some screening of the personal with the selection of terms that deflect the audience away from the private experience.  In other terms or situations, masque.  184  Voices of Persuasion  For most of the traditional ways of using quotation as "appeal to authority," the identity of the source voice is paramount, and the substance or content of the quotation secondary. Other features of the quoted material — linguistic and musical for example — and the actual quotation process, remain incidental in such a system. As a consequence, Pound's use of quotation stands in sharp contrast to more traditional approaches.  For example, his borrowing practices are not based on the  traditional appeal to the authority of the original author. In fact, he says that "the men from whom Dante borrowed are remembered as much for the fact that he did borrow as for their own compositions. At the same time he gave of his own" ("Serious Artist," LE 49).  The act of quotation thus gave authority to those sources,  instead of acquiring it from them. And while Pound's use of quotation may rely to some extent (perhaps indirectly) on traditional notions of appeal to authority, often that appeal is reversed or redirected, with the text of a quote appealing to the authority of the quotation process, or the original source appealing to the authority of the borrower and/or the new context.  In other words, in some instances, certain  material is preserved by virtue of the fact that it has been quoted at all; in addition, the text and/or the author acquire some authority that they did not previously have.  Walter Benjamin also considers the possibilities of a new relationship between quotation and authority. He points out that the actual process of quotation "contains  185  Voices of Persuasion  the hope that something from this period will survive for no other reason than that it was torn out of it" (quoted in Arendt, "Introduction" 39). In this approach, the material cited acquires value simply because it has been torn out of the very same situation that, in other circumstances, would have possessed and awarded value. Similarly, Derrida believed that the "force de rupture" inherent in language makes it possible to extract texts and move them into new contexts, or to graft them "onto other chains" ("Signature Event Context" 182). Those grafted texts would acquire something from the new contexts, would gain some colour or shape from the new chains. Emerson suggests a similar but more organic process, and gives a description of how the action or process of quotation can determine or lend authority: . . . every talker helps a story in repeating it, until, at last, from the slenderest filament of fact a good fable is constructed, — the same growth befalls mythology: the legend is tossed from believer to poet, from poet to believer, every body adding a grace or dropping a fault or rounding the form, until it gets an ideal truth. ("Quotation and Originality" 173) Once again, it is neither the original speaker nor the borrower that adds grace to the quotation or generates "an ideal truth," but the process of tossing the thing from believer to poet, and on. Authority lies within the quotation, at the center of whatever idea is being passed on, and in the process of quotation itself.  The act of quotation can work both ways, or in both directions, in Emerson's  186  Voices of Persuasion  terms, affecting both the original and the new contexts of the material. He argues that "in far the greater number of cases the transaction is honorable to both" ("Quotation and Originality" 180), which suggests that the act of quoting will lend authority to borrower and lender in the same moment: This vast mental indebtedness has every variety that pecuniary debt has, — every variety of merit. The capitalist of either kind is as hungry to lend as the consumer to borrow; and the transaction no more indicates intellectual turpitude in the borrower than the simple fact of debt involves bankruptcy. On the contrary, in far the greater number of cases the transaction is honourable to both. ("Quotation and Originality" 180) The effects of the "transaction" on both the borrower and the original source, involve the preservation or revision of information, the juxtaposition of ideas, and so on. Also, in such transactions, the appeals to authority could be directed at either current or original texts, or at any of the possible old and new contexts.  4  In addition to altering the nature of the appeal to authority, the kind of quotation that occurs in  The Cantos undermines or destroys authority in some instances. These  effects are similar to those caused by quotation in general, according to Walter Benjamin. In place of its authority, quotation has acquired "a strange power to settle down, piecemeal, in the present and to deprive it of 'peace of mind,' the mindless peace of complacency" (Arendt, "Introduction" 38). The ability to "deprive" a new context of peace of mind is a powerful and often dramatic force; as we have seen,  187  Voices of Persuasion  Benjamin describes quotations in his own works as "like robbers by the roadside who make an armed attack and relieve an idler of his convictions"  (Schriften  I, 571).  Quotations that act like armed and dangerous roadside thieves are a far cry from the quotations that would "elevate" a text or speaker to the level of the source. too quotations in  The  Cantos.  So  In Pound's quotations, the quoted material has  authority in and unto itself; any appeals for authority are directed to the text itself, to the new context, or to the reader. Instead of serving as accumulated evidence to support a claim or to validate a person, quotations challenge the audience directly, for example, and engage the audience in determining the relationship of the quotation to the surrounding text, or even provoke a reader to utterance.  Pound also quotes for the significance of the actual text — either its substance or its music. Earle Davis explains that Pound's "epic is intended to be a combination of everything he considers worth borrowing from the storehouse of the past" (28). But Pound's interest in that borrowing lies in the actual thing, res, rather than the reputations of authors. He is interested too in the presence of the speaker, and the force of voice,  viva  voce.  5  As mentioned earlier, traditional views of quotation  generally do not focus on either of these concerns.  Aristotle's notion of "recent  witnesses" does partially address the issue of live voice, as Lane Cooper's translation  188  Voices of Persuasion  note suggests: "As for witnesses, they fall into two classes (1) ancient [time honored, venerable], and (2) recent [viva voce]" (Rhetoric 1.15, 82); however, that definition deals with the immediacy and presence of a speaker in abstract terms, not with such physical or tangible details as dialect or duration of syllables.  In addition to the variations worked on the traditional appeal to authority, Pound's use of quotation acts as inventio. One of the more important classical credos of rhetoric, inventio was included as one of the five essential aspects of rhetoric: invention, arrangement, style, delivery and memory. Virtually every major rhetorician throughout the centuries discusses invention, in one form or another — as invention of new ideas, as development or discovery of argument, as originality of thought, and so on.  Cicero says essentially that an orator should begin with invention, "first to find out what he should say" (De lnventione I, xxxii). invention cannot be discussed without arrangement:  For Quintilian, on another hand, "it is not sufficient for those who  are erecting a building merely to collect stone and timber and other building materials, but skilled masons are required to arrange and place them, so in speaking" (Institutio Oratoria VII, i). Whether tied to arrangement or not, invention has always been a critical factor for the rhetorician. Without it there would be nothing to  189  Voices of Persuasion  arrange, nothing to memorize, nothing to deliver. Definitions of invention range from more limited ones, based only on finding information, as in Cicero's case, to broader terms that involve finding and developing material, as well as ensuring that material is treated in innovative ways. Rhetoricians of the Renaissance, such as Geoffrey of Vinsauf, pursued that aim of treating the old in new ways, urging speakers to be a "physician and give to the old a new vigour. Do not let the word reside on its native soil — such residence dishonours it" (43).  The view of inventio as a process of taking the old and transforming into something new is the approach to invention that emerges in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.  "Old and new make the warp and woof of every moment,"  Emerson says, and "There is no thread that is not a twist of these two strands" ("Quotation and Originality" 171).  This view is not simply a matter of juxtaposition,  but one in which the old generates the new: The old forest is decomposed for the composition of the new forest. The old animals have given their bodies to the earth to furnish through chemistry the forming race. . . . So it is in thought. Our knowledge is the amassed thought and experience of innumerable minds. . . . our country, customs, laws, our ambitions, and our notions of fit and fair — all these we never made, we found them ready-made; we but quote them. ("Quotation and Originality" 190) Invention here occurs in and through the decomposition or decay of the old.  6  In her  summary of Benjamin's approach, Hannah Arendt presents a similar view, and  190  Voices of Persuasion  suggests that "the process of decay is at the same time a process of crystallization" ("Introduction" 51). In the process of decomposition, decay, or grafting, the past regenerates or is changed into something new. Emerson says that this occurs because of the clear dominance of the present:  "We cannot overstate our debt to the Past, but  the moment has the supreme claim. The Past is for us; but the sole terms on which it can become ours are its subordination to the Present" ("Quotation and Originality" 194).  Subordination of this kind is somewhat similar to the process of cleansing and  purification that is postulated by Walter Benjamin: "Only the man who questions the present discovers strength in the quotation: not to preserve but to purify" (One Way Street 287).  7  As indicated earlier, Benjamin's purification process is not always a passive one, for he also views it as something that serves "to cleanse, to tear out of context, to destroy" (Schriften II, 192). To save a word or phrase, he says, quotation "wrenches it destructively from its context" (One Way Street 286).  Benjamin also  produced a study of German tragedy that comprises a collection of quotations. Hannah Arendt describes the collection and explains that The main work consisted in tearing fragments out of their context and arranging them afresh in such a way that they illustrated one another and were able to prove their raison d'etre in a free-floating state, as it were. It definitely was a sort of surrealist montage. ("Introduction" 47)  191  Voices of Persuasion  This approach to tradition, to sources, involved "drilling rather than excavating" as an investigative process {Briefe I 329), and necessarily involved various kinds of transformations.  Derrida explores this idea from a slightly different perspective in his discussion of quotation and written syntagma: . . . by virtue of its essential iterability, a written syntagma can always be detached from the chain in which it is inserted. . . . One can perhaps come to recognize other possibilities in it by inscribing it or grafting it onto other chains. No context can entirely enclose it. ("Signature Event Context" 182) This theory depends on individual quotations remaining distinct units of language, like bricks, waiting to be inserted into the next construction; those units seemingly could remain detached from any process of change. Grafting or inserting quoted material in this way would lack the transformation or revision, the decaying effects of time and sea-change, implicitly and explicitly involved in Benjamin's beliefs and Pound's credo. The only changes would be externally effected, through juxtaposition, arrangement, re-combination. According to Victor L i , however, the "essential iterability" of language has one other effect — it creates with, or in, every quotation or translation "an alterity, a difference that is also a dispersion or extension of the original meaning" ("Rhetoric of Presence" 299).  192  The acknowledgement that there  Voices of Persuasion  will be "extension of the original meaning" takes Derrida's view of quotation closer again to Benjamin's and Pound's. Also to Emerson's. As any piece of language is passed along in the quotation process, it changes shape: "from poet to believer, every body adding a grace or dropping a fault or rounding the form, until it gets an ideal truth ("Quotation and Originality" 173).  From passing the thing along, adding and dropping features, to re-vision and reaudition: a process that involves finding a familiar text in a different context. As R.P. Blackmur describes, "The recognition is not limited . . . to what was already known," he argues, because "there is a perception of something previously unknown, something new which is a result of the combination of the words, something which is literally an access of knowledge" (Form and Value 184).  The new context allows  new presentation and provokes new perception, with the possibility of discovering new things. A similar argument is found in discussions of quotation in music. For example, in Donald Jay Grout's brief discussion of Stockhausen's use of borrowed material: The intention in every instance is, in Stockhausen's words, "not to interpret, but to hear familiar, old, performed musical material with new ears, to penetrate and transform it with a musical consciousness of today." This represents a quite new mode of relating music of the present to that of the past. (748) Once again, there is a clear sense that there will be interpenetration, transformation,  193  Voices of Persuasion  and intertextual exchange — between the quotation and its various contexts, original and new. This process involves re-vision and transformation, not just grafting or setting things into a different chain.  These views of invention approach Pound's credo of "MAKE IT NEW." This 8  phrase is not exclusively Pound's, rather his re-presentation of Confucius, from The Great Digest. His translation goes: AS THE SUN MAKES IT NEW DAY BY DAY MAKE IT NEW YET AGAIN MAKE IT NEW (Great Digest 36) Pound's concern is not for the creation of some entirely new thing, but for making new the thing already known — he uses the deictic "it", "make IT new". For Pound, the process of making it new involves both regeneration and metamorphosis. In Canto 53, for example, the reference is to Emperor Ch'eng T'ang and the Shang Dynasty, and the "resurgence of a good ruler and dynasty out of bad times" which is "a regenerative and ethical metamorphosis with civic implications" (Gordon, "Sources of Canto LIU" 130). Also, Pound valued those authors who "actually invented something, or who are the 'first-known examples' of the process" ("How to Read," LE 27), rather than authors who simply accumulate information, imitate styles or pursue superficial fashions. The greatest achievement of all would be to gather the things of other great authors and to invent new things out of that resource. Speaking  194  Voices of Persuasion  of the energy required in image or vortex, Pound argued that "a great energy has, of necessity, its many attendant inventions." And "the vorticist," he says, "maintains that the 'organizing' or creative-inventive faculty is the thing that matters" ("Prose Tradition," LE 377).  As invention, quotation can work in much the same way as ideogram, fugue, or sculptural fugue-form. The juxtaposition of quotation, with original context, new situation, and voice, all lead to hearing and seeing both the old and the new, and to a transformation of the old. Common or similar features in each aspect of the quotation concentrate the meaning, while the differences direct attention out in other directions. In this sense, synaesthesia is inextricably tied to the process of invention that occurs in the quotations of  The  Cantos.  The result of transforming and making things new,  there is invariably simultaneous perception, or a harmony of different impulses, even subject rhyme. Herbert Schneidau sets this into the context of symbolist poetry: "suggestiveness, synaesthesia, emotional reverberation, and association are of course familiar devices of Symbolist poetics" ("Pound and Yeats" 225).  Such reverberation  also characterizes collage: "extraordinarily equivocal vibration between reality and the illusion inherent in a collage" (Janis & Blesh 23). This parallel represents one of the ways in which quotation is the literary equivalent of collage. Korg suggests that "The characteristically modern 'equivocal vibration' is most noticeable at those points  195  Voices of Persuasion  in The Cantos where interpolations that resist integration appear" ("Collage" 102). Thus at those points where the sense of jarring, collision and interruption are the greatest, the reverberation and other effects of synaesthesia will be the strongest.  Synaesthesia is also one of the processes at work in Benjamin's concept of the consummation of language. Only in quotation, where "the two realms — of origin and destruction — interpenetrate. . . . is language consummated" (One Way Street 286).  This is a synaesthesia involving the thing itself, its origin and the new context,  a process that "wrenches it destructively from its context, but precisely thereby calls it back to its origin" (One Way Street 286). Likewise, the alterity that comes out of the iterability of language, "a difference that is also a dispersion or extension of the original meaning" ("Rhetoric of Presence" 299) involves not only invention but also synaesthesia. Original meaning and the extension of that meaning work together, in the same moment.  There are so many varied quotations that work as synaesthesia in The Cantos that the many different and seemingly unrelated things often provoke criticism or causes confusion among readers. Herman Meyer tackles this very problem, but only as it applies to the European novel. He concludes that it represents a "degeneration of quotation" —  196  Voices of Persuasion  . . . bits and pieces of great literature, now grown meaningless, are mixed in a mad maelstrom with all conceivable linguistic tatters that roar into his consciousness from the tumult of metropolitan civilization: the catchy tags of advertising and songs, popular hits, and silly nursery rhymes. ("Poetics of Quotation" 20) Meyer is describing Franz Biberkopf, in Alfred Doblin's Berlin Alexanderplatz; he could just as easily be describing the narrators of Pound or Joyce. For Meyer, this "maelstrom" either "tolls the death knell of the art of quotation" or "stands, with Joyce's Ulysses, at the beginning of a new development" ("Poetics of Quotation" 20). He does not pursue the possibilities of such a new development.  Most critics faced with such a barrage of quotation either search for a governing or logical structure to manage the information, or try to identify or trace all the pieces; they virtually ignore the fact that the pattern reflects a way of thinking, as does the ideogram. That Meyer sees the quoted bits as "grown meaningless," for instance, suggests that he did not really consider the process as indicative of a way of thinking. Many critics looking at The Cantos had the same problem. Leon Surette treats The Cantos as a collection, rather than "a single coherent poem" (vii), and George Dekker considers only some of the cantos to be "fairly complete poetic wholes" (203), but not the entire work. And Donald Davie calls the quotations "blocks of dusty historical debris" (Poet as Sculptor 126), then suggests that those  197  Voices of Persuasion  passage will make turn reading into "resentful laboring." Critics like Surette, Dekker and Davie treat quotation as one of the features that cause The Cantos to lack unity or coherence, that make it a "colossal failure." They tend to focus not on the process of quotation, but on the product, an unfortunate choice given Pound's devotion to process in every form.  Not all critics ignore the process aspects of quotation. Ronald Bush deals with ways of thinking, at least in part, when he comments on Pound's discovery, in Henry James, of "a prose style whose involutions and participial constructions permitted the energies of perception to be absorbed into drama" (176). More important for Pound was Aeschylean drama, where "he discovered classical authority for a syntax even more 'obscure' than James's — a syntax designed to connect grammatically disparate but related facets of racial memory" (Bush 176).  Rabatd certainly acknowledges  quotation as process, and sees the ideogrammic method as a means of focussing and at the same time disseminating the voice (87).  Perloff goes considerably further,  suggesting that, through such things as Pound's quotations, the text will provoke ideas: "In their very indeterminacy of their sound, their imagery and their narration, they challenge us, once again, to take up ideas" (Indeterminacy 338). way of knowing.  198  This implies a  Voices of Persuasion  Pound himself clearly aimed for synaesthesia; he sought it in the works of others, and wanted poets to achieve it in their work. In " A Visiting Card" he says simply, "In our intellectual life — or 'struggle', if you prefer it — we need facts that illuminate like a flash of lightning, and authors who set their subjects in a steady light" (SP 327).  He also argued the need for "something more or less like electricity  or radio-activity, a force transfusing, welding, and unifying" ("Serious Artist," LE 49).  Quotations work like that lightning flash or electricity, while at the same time,  as Hugh Kenner suggests, the "tensile" or "idiosyncratic" energy of the poem "pulsates" between quotations throughout the poem. This energy belongs with Fenollosa's "vivid verbs." He points out that "Relations are more real than the things which they relate. The forces which produce the branch-angles of an oak lay potent in the acorn" (Fenollosa 22).  The similarity of the various energies and forces at play leads Kenner to compare the process to patterns of energy in nature, using Buckminster Fuller's description: Therefore when nature has very large tasks to do, such as cohering the solar system or the universe, she . . . has compression operating in little remotely positioned islands, as high energy concentrations, such as the earth and other planets, . . . while cohering the whole system by comprehensive tension: — compression islands in a non-simultaneous universe  199  Voices of Persuasion  of tension. (Fuller in World Design Science Decade as quoted by Kenner in Era 168) Applied to The Cantos, that cohering energy would involve a series of islands of concentrated thinking, linked by pulsating energy; the coherence would rest in that connecting energy, not in the similarity or relationships of the properties of individual islands — not in the subjects of quotations, but in the process of quoting. And for synaesthesia in the quotations throughout The Cantos involves reverberations of all kinds — visual (Chinese ideograms, pyramids, graphics, hieroglyphs, etc.), semantic (subject rhymes, type characters), and aural qualities (shaggy rhymes, incantation and other recurrent rhythms). Vortex, image, high energy concentrations, flashes of lighting, gods afloat in the azure air, the arena, and the oak in the acorn: Pound lived the process. There may be no better explanation than Kenner's story of the single pip: On the second of May, 1945, Ezra Pound, coming down the salita, he thought for the last time, a pirated reprint from Shanghai of Legge's Confucius in one of his coat pockets and a dictionary of ideograms in the other, two men with Tommy-guns flanking him, stopped to pick up one pip. It was all he expected to take with him from Italy (if he lived to go). Looked at endwise, it had a cat face; Gaudier would have read it so, and remembered the Vortex of Egypt. The tree's red flower before it opens being covered with a sort of cap, it is named eucalyptus, well-hidden. Like himself, it had come to Italy from halfway round the world. (Era 172)  200  Voices of Persuasion  Synaesthesia, inventio and the appeal to authority all incorporate one additional rhetorical device: synecdoche, the technique of using a part to suggest the whole, species for genus, material for the thing made, and so on. A number of the textual features that are so characteristic of the oral tradition, also function in rhetorical terms as synecdoche — particularly formulaic expressions, epithets and catchwords (see Chapter 5). If passing a thing along, from poet to believer again and again in cyclic invention, would generate an ideal truth for Emerson, synecdoche would lead to truth for both Benjamin and Pound. Arendt points out that "For Benjamin to quote is to name, and naming rather than speaking, the word rather than the sentence, brings truth to light" ("Introduction" 49). And for Pound, there are the gists and piths aimed for in imagistic poetry, where there are to be no superfluous words, "absolutely no word that does not contribute to the presentation" ("Retrospect," LE 3). Yet at the same time, the words that are used should convey culture and history, should put those "few simple truths" into human consciousness and folklore. In Kenner's words, "To grasp a handful of sand is to grasp all that; men's knowing is a synecdoche, so are men's poems; attend to the bits, they cohere" (Era 475).  As gists and piths, quoted material directs attention to the various things that it directly represents and also to other related or associated material. Single words and short phrases especially work as synecdoche. The epithet "Dog-eye!!" suggests  201  Voices of Persuasion  Agamemnon, and Achilles' description of him, as well as the relationship between the two men, and also the parallel relationships of Allessandro and Lorenzo Medici. Likewise, "Anaxiforminges" points to Pindar, "Caine attendra" to Dante, to Caine, the Inferno and the 9th circle of hell. And "Omnia" in one canto points to "omnia quae sunt lumina sunt" in another, with the latter a synecdoche itself, for an entire philosophy. Pound comments on condensation in a letter to the Base Censor at the Pisa Detention Camp: "There is also an extreme condensation in the quotations, for example 'Mine eyes have' (given as mi-hine eyes hev refers to the Battle Hymn of the Republic as heard from the loud speaker. . . . " (quoted in Hall, "Ezra Pound" 36). The same principle is at work in Ulysses, as Joyce claimed that "if I can get to the heart of Dublin I can get to the heart of all the cities of the world. In the particular is contained the universal" (qtd. in Noon 60). Simple truths to be pounded into folklore.  Working both as formulaic expression and as synecdoche, the many keywordand catchphrase- quotations achieve one of the tasks set out for quotation by Benjamin, namely the task of "concentrating within themselves that which is presented" (Arendt, "Introduction" 39). They are like the pearls of knowledge that, according to Benjamin, simply wait to be found; they '"suffer a sea-change' and survive in new crystallized forms that remain immune to the elements, as though they  202  Voices of Persuasion  waited only for the pearl diver who will one day come down to them and bring them up into the world of the living" (Arendt, "Introduction" 51).  9  Synecdoche or the  search for those pearls represents one limit of exploration for a poet determined to reduce the British Museum to an accessible and usable form. It culminates in sections of the Cantos, such as Cantos 52 to 71, where, as Pound says "Nobody can summarize what is already condensed to the absolute limit" (quoted in Stock, Life 480).  The rest of the story of the eucalyptus seed, finally, takes us from  synaesthesia to synecdoche: The pip he dropped into his pocket was synecdoche for his dearest landscape, and for the Greek language, where its name has the same root as Calypso, Odysseus' protector. In Pisa he put it where prowling cats could not get at it, and wrote '. . . eucalyptus that is for memory. He has it yet, a kernel, a memory, a word, an exotic great-rooted blossomer's Gestalt-seed. (Era 172) 1  The various rhetorical functions of quotation mentioned so far all connect directly and indirectly to ethos and pathos, the areas of rhetorical study that deal with the character of speaker and the disposition of the audience, along with the relationships that develop between the two. The Cantos have had a complicated and difficult ride with audiences, in large measure, I think, because most readers have been unaware and/or inattentive to the importance of viva voce, to the critical significance of the ear, and the fact that the text is score.  203  Voices of Persuasion  The live man speaking in The Cantos is crucial to the ethos of narrator and speaking characters.  This is not simply a question of the viewpoint of a narrator or  speaker for the poem, and the necessary biases attendant on narrative voice, for the voices change too often in the poem to create an overall sense of that. Perhaps that is one of the features of the work that disquiets readers. For the changes in voice often are discernible from the way that a given speaker sounds, and not always by way of external introduction. On the other hand, there are very clearly several groups of speakers, all sharing a similar kind of ethos, and they become progressively easier to recognize as the poem progresses.  Pound's heroes, for example — Jefferson's  concern for a gardener-musician in relation to Sigismundo's for the Veronese marble. Their words, quoted, reveal much about their characters, "facts indicative of personality" rather than the "public eye wash" (No. 669, Paige Collection). How they talk, about themselves and others, reveals more. Their patterns of speech — diction, phrasing and rhythm — still more. Their actions, often reported by others, and sometimes quoted, tell the rest. Pound's heroes often, incidentally, make an effort to use language before resorting to violence, an interesting characteristic in light of Chaim Perelman's claim that discourse can and should replace violence.  Quotations throughout The Cantos moderate distance between text and audience, speaker and audience. Whether considered in terms of the seams or frames as  204  Voices of Persuasion  defined by Plett, or the terministic screens of Burke, the features that mark quotation also serve to manage distance. In some instances, the effect is greater distance, as when the material is depersonalized, put into the form of proverbs, with unidentified ancients as source; or when the quotes involve the recorded texts of ancients. On the other hand, invocations bring the audience closer to the moment — with the first invocatory word, usually an imperative or direct address, the audience is brought into the situation. Letters, the Malatesta post-bag or the Adam-Jefferson correspondence, also bring a reader closer, but with that special underlying sense of distance, that accompanies the act of hearing or reading material without permission, surreptitiously, as if through a keyhole. Similarly, quotations that involve semiphonetic transcriptions draw the reader right into the text, making utterance and/or audition necessary, as immediate as you can get without the actual speaker present. The continual effort to evoke a sense of that "actual presence" contributes to a constant sense of ethos, "drinking the tone of things."  At the same time as they are building the ethos of speakers, quotations also direct the audiences attitudes and angle of perception with regards to the text.  The  Cantos are full of brief often elliptical directions and suggestions for responding to the text. "Hang it all, Robert Browning,/ there can be but the one 'Sordello'" tells the audience something about the ethos of the speaker, but also guides them in a  205  Voices of Persuasion  particular direction with respect to the text. Once again, it is a selection of reality, in Burke's system of terministic screens, with the words selecting particular pieces, and deflecting others. Pathos is important for another reason; according to Frobenius, "It is not what a man says, but the part of it which his auditor considers important, that measures the quantity of his communication" (quoted in GK 59)  Perhaps the strongest aspect of The Cantos in terms of pathos is the ability of the text to engage the reader — through visual elements, or by provoking utterance, for example — even when text itself not comprehensible in the usual terms. Korg suggests, for example, that "there is a sense in which the proper reader of the ideograms in The Cantos is one who does not understand Chinese" ("Collage" 100). This reader does not deal with them as semantic units, but as visual objects, "as if they were elements in a collage" ("Collage" 100). The ideograms can work in this way partly because transliterations or other explanations often appear with them, because the meaning does not have to come from them. In addition, the semiphonetic representations of dialect do not convey meaning, but information about sound. Such visual and aural features thus provide points of access to the text.  Chaim Perelman posits a theory of basic points of commonality, in which participants in a discourse seek the lowest common denominators of understanding.  206  Voices of Persuasion  Where no such points can be found, discourse cannot occur. Common understandings, according to Perelman, reside in small capsule units of man's expressed thought, namely, in such things as maxims, cliches and gnomes. Quotations in The Cantos work much in the way that Perelman's basic commonalities do. The activity of quoting is universally recognized, even if the texts quoted are not. As mentioned before, in some instances, the only thing that the audience may recognize are the features that mark or signal the process of quotation. The lowest common denominator in this instance is the simple fact that this is recognizably quotation, that the process, the gesture or the speech-act, is understood, even if the text is not.  The recurrence of recognizable forms of the quotation process is a rhetorical device which occurs not only in the twentieth-century material that Chaim Perelman is concerned with: the same pattern appears in a wide range of oral traditions. In a discussion of quotation practices in Aguaruna, Mildred Larsen points out that the frequency and location of quotations vary throughout narratives, in a variety of patterns (60-69). For example, quotations may occur with increasing frequency towards the climax of the narrative. In other cases, speech predicators occur at the beginning of sentences until the climax of a story, where they appear at the middle or end of the sentences.  207  Voices of Persuasion  More complex patterns involving various recurring forms of quotation occur in  The Cantos — patterns that are possible, I believe, because Pound depends so heavily on the oral tradition while composing in written form. Winn suggests that in the process of reading and re-reading  The Cantos, we "begin to hear the 'long lines' of  thought, argument, and design which cross each other in every canto" (336). Winn compares Pound's practices to Joyce's, suggesting that Joyce's are chordal, since he combines words, such as words from two languages, whereas Pound would roughly rhyme them (336). Joyce's approach isolates sounds, creates internal play and limits certain kinds of possibilities; while Pound's approach directs the ear recursively, and outward, or in Winn's terms, laterally. It is worth remembering that Joyce devoted "Oxen of the Sun" to careful imitation of rhetorical styles over the centuries, presenting entirely different kinds of content through those earlier styles. And in spite of the completely different subject matter, the styles are unarguably marked with the stylistic stamp of the original text. Pound certainly does not undertake such a systematic exercise, but the voices nevertheless very clearly reflect the character type and the languages of the episode that they appear in, along with the truth that they speak. And in that regard, it is, in Pound's own terms, only the listener that is intermittent.  10  208  Voices of Persuasion  1.  Aristotle, Cicero, Longinus, Quintilian, and others.  2.  Aristotle then lists several speakers who use this method, including Isocrates (in and Antidosis), Archilochus (in his satire), and Sophocles (in Antigone). Haemon, for example, uses the words of others to express "Such words as would offend thine ear. . ." (Rhetoric 3.17,237). Philippus  3.  Burke explains terministic screens as follows: . . . even if any given terminology is a reflection of reality, by its very nature as a terminology it must be a selection of reality; and to this extent it must function also as a deflection of reality (Symbolic Action 45).  4. It is interesting to note here that Pound suggested that "only spoken poetry and unwritten music are composed without any material basis, nor do they become 'materialized' (SP 307). 5.  See Chapter 5.  6. Emerson also suggests that there is a great deal of such invention, and therefore very little thought that is original: "This extreme economy argues a very small capital of invention" (171). He goes so far as to suggest that "there is no pure originality" (170). 7. Benjamin makes this observation in his essay about Karl Kraus. As mentioned elsewhere, in the Introduction to Walter Benjamin's Illuminations, Hannah Arendt comments that, for Benjamin, the "modern function of quotation . . . was born out of the despair of the present and the desire to destroy it" (39). 8.  Canto 53: on his bath tub  wrote M A K E IT N E W Day by day make it new  209  [265/53].  Voices of Persuasion  The accompanying ideograms are hsin, jih, jih, and hsin. They mean "make new, day by day, make new" (Terrell 53:43, 205). 9. For discussion of synecdoche in Native oral traditions, see Dennis Tedlock, Dell Hymes, Jan Mukafovsky, and Karl Kroeber. 10. Phrasing is based on a statement by John Cage, quoted in Perloff: "Music, he said was continuous: only listening is intermittent." The comment is about Thoreau, and was made at a performance that included slide projection of images based on Thoreau's drawings (336).  210  W O R K S CITED  The Mirror and the Lamp: Romantic Theory and the Critical Theory. 1953. 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