<<

15

The nation between utopia and art: canonizing as the

‘national ’ of

Vassiliki Dimoula

Perhaps the most controversial element in the work of Dionysios Solomos, the

’ of Greece, is his . My aim in what follows will be to discuss a contrastive relationship between the utopian element in Solomos’s national and his canonization as the ‘national poet’ of Greece. The tension between Solomos’s work and its reception has recently been discussed by Giorgos Veloudis from the point of view of the appropriation of Solomos for the needs of Greek ‘national ideology’ (Veloudis 2004). By contrast, my own focus here will be on the ideologization of the aesthetic dimension of

Solomos’s work in the course of his canonization as the leading figure of

Greek national literature. Although I will not discuss the poet’s reception in any detail, my points of reference will be Iakovos Polylas and .

The social‑imaginary institution of the nation is by definition ideological; it constitutes ‘a social reality whose very existence implies the non‑knowledge of its participants as to its essence’ (Žižek 1995, 2, cited in

Gourgouris 1996, 26). In order to justify my discussion of it as a ‘utopia’ in the poetic work of Solomos, I will refer to the transcendental poetics of his time, Dimoula as well as to modern theorizations of utopia, with particular emphasis on the notion of ‘negative utopianism’ suggested by Theodor Adorno.1

Veloudis, in his recent book (2004), provides a detailed account of

Solomos’s appropriation by Greek ‘national ideology’, which was based on a politically motivated distortion of his work.2 The ‘nationalization’ of Solomos in the course of his multifaceted reception obscured the initial, historically very specific grounds of his canonization as ‘the national poet’ of Greece by the Heptanesians. The first to describe Solomos as ‘the national poet’ – as well as the first to use this phrase in Greek – was Iakovos Polylas in chapters XI and XVIII of his Prolegomena to his posthumous edition of Solomos’s work in

1 As a social‑imaginary institution, the nation is impossible to fix as a positive entity. However, it does register a topographic desire. Its topos has been defined by some scholars as ‘heterotopia’ – in Michel Foucault’s sense of an effectively enacted utopia (Foucault 1986, 24; Leontis 1989, 43; Gourgouris

1996, 46). My use of the term ‘utopia’ instead of ‘heterotopia’ is not intended to deny the nation’s spatial grounding, but to allude to a different theoretical corpus, from Bloch to Adorno and Jameson, which proves more suitable for my purposes in this essay.

2 Indeed, Solomos’s name is cited in connexions as diverse as the

‘national’ wars of 1897 and 1922 and the Greek ‘language question’ (Veloudis

2004, 94, 216).

2 Dimoula

1859 (Veloudis 2004, 81). For Polylas, ‘national poetry’ was by no means restricted to a narrow patriotic sense, but depended on the combination of the national preoccupations of the work with its aesthetic quality (Veloudis 2004,

81, 147). In this sense, it coincided with ‘Romantic’ poetry, defined as a

‘modern’, ‘urban’, ‘national’ literature, which supported the creation of the new, national states in Europe during the first decades of the nineteenth century (Veloudis 2004, 300‑1). Polylas’s emphasis on ‘truth’ as essential to the national, on the genius of the individual poet, and on the vision of a better

Greek world in the future, is suggestive of the distinctive position of the

Heptanesians on the newly formed concepts of ‘national poetry’ and ‘national poet’.3

Despite the distance that separates the Heptanesians from overtly political misappropriations of Solomos, whether later or contemporary,

Veloudis sees in the ‘interpretive’ interventions of Polylas in the poet’s oeuvre

3 See Solomos 1961, for the poet’s statement that ‘the nation must learn to consider national what is true’ (26). Polylas also writes about the ‘true

Greece’ in ‘’ (29). See also Veloudis 2004, 151‑2, for

Solomos’s endorsement of the views of the Heptanesians on ‘national poetry’.

The utopian in Solomos in the sense given to this notion here is realised exclusively at the level of verse and not at the level of the overt statements of the poet about his poetry.

3 Dimoula the beginning of his integration into ‘national ideology’ (Veloudis 2004, 104,

108). From my point of view, I believe that the main ideological gesture of the

Heptanesians is located in their emphasis on the aesthetic, the individual, the visionary; in what follows I shall draw attention to the difference between this ideology and the utopian in Solomos’s ‘national’ late work.

Polylas’s emphasis on the aesthetic dimension of the newly‑formed notion of ‘national poetry’ places his Prolegomena at the beginning of the appropriation of Solomos’s work within the frame of an ‘aesthetic nationalism’.4 This appropriation would be completed at the end of the nineteenth century by the second major figure in Greek ‘national literature’ to play a key role in Solomos’s canonization, Kostis Palamas. Apart from some texts of a panegyrical character, which directly aimed at the integration of the poet into ‘national ideology’ (Veloudis 2004, 84), Palamas gradually prioritized the aesthetic dimension of Solomos’s work. This started as a justified move away from the patriotic, but resulted in a neglect of the national altogether and a failure to acknowledge its centrality for Solomos.

The characterization of ‘The Cretan’ as the ‘most musical embodiment of the

4 The Prolegomena have interestingly been paralleled with the genre of

Bildungsroman by Lambropoulos 1988, 16. On ‘aesthetic nationalism’, see

Redfield 1999, 60. In an earlier book (1996), Redfield discusses the

Bildungsroman in connection with the problematic of aesthetics and ideology.

4 Dimoula most dream‑like mysticism’, and of the last period of Solomos’s work in its entirety as that of ‘metaphysical creation’ are a misunderstanding of the real significance of the aesthetic in Solomos as an enabling condition of the utopian within the national (Palamas 1981, 46, 58). Indeed, Palamas characteristically rejects what is, from this point of view, the most crucial aspect of Solomos’s aesthetics: fragmentariness.5 His insistence on the

‘eloquent effusions of lyricism’ in Solomos’s late poetry is also telling for his intention to ground the national upon the lyrical space of aesthetic abstraction, itself based on an impressionistic identification of the lyric as the genre most unbound from history (Palamas 1981, 43). The question has been raised whether a lyric poet can also be a ‘national poet’ (Tziovas 1999, 164). In fact, it seems that lyric abstraction is no less essential than epic grandeur for the canonization of a poet as ‘national’.6

The utopian element in Solomos’s late poetry emerges clearly through a comparison with his early work. The different realization of the national in

5 See his disapproval of the disjecta membra (λείψανα) of the poet’s oeuvre (Palamas 1981, 106) and the discussion of this issue by Angelatos

(2000, 73‑191).

6 See MacPfail on the canonization of Whitman as ‘the lyric poet of an epic consciousness’ (2002, 137).

5 Dimoula the different stages of Solomos’s poetic career is suggestive of the evolution of his poetics.

The ‘’ (1823) and the ‘Ode on the Death of

(1824) engage with contemporary events in a largely documentary way, in order to serve the cause of the War of Independence.7 The revivalist aspiration of the ancient Greek past is the main ideologeme evoked in support of the

‘national cause’ in these poems. If Solomos’s early work has a utopian potential, this is only to the extent that all ideological and, more specifically, national poetry does. As Fredric Jameson puts it, the ‘simultaneously ideological and Utopian character of the national phenomenon’ offers a central example of the fact that every ideological gesture participates in a dialectic between ideology and utopia, to the extent that it involves an effort to attain universalizing (Jameson 1981, 289, 271‑290).

In contrast, the late poetry of Solomos resists ideology at a formal level.

Its utopian potential consists in the indirectness of its engagement with the national. However, to describe this indirectness through the aestheticizing discourse which marks the rhetoric of Polylas, Solomos’s posthumous editor, is to narrow down its utopian dynamic and reduce it to what has been criticized as the ‘aesthetic ideology’ of high Romantic poetics. ‘Aesthetic

7 For Solomos’s ‘conversion’ to the ‘national cause’ by Spyridon

Trikoupis in early 1823, see Veloudis 2004, 73.

6 Dimoula ideology’ serves bourgeois hegemony precisely as an escape from the socio‑ political to the aesthetic realm (De Man 1996). My suggestion will be that the utopian in Solomos relies on specific formal qualities of his poetry, which resist the ‘aesthetic ideology’ implied in the discourse of the Heptanesians or

Palamas devoted to his work. In support of this suggestion, I will allude to

Adorno as the thinker who, par excellence, and from within a Marxist vocabulary, made the case for the aesthetic against aestheticization and

‘aesthetic ideology’.8

The utopian in Solomos’s poems that I will discuss here also differs radically from the emphasis on the future that tended to be stressed by the

Heptanesians. This emphasis is, it is true, by no means absent from Solomos’s poetry, even the late poetry. It appears, for instance, in the fragment which was later given by Polylas the title ‘The Eastern War’ (1854): ‘The fourth one – look – seems to the eye to be, but is not’ (Solomos 1961, 261). As Veloudis suggests, for all its indirectness, this line refers to the vision of a better Greek world in the future (Veloudis 2004, 106). He identifies Solomos’s interest in the future in general as the ‘ideological kernel’ of ‘previous, contemporary and later utopianism’ and connects it with the ‘utopian and mysticist ideologemes’ formulated in Giuseppe Mazzini’s manifesto I doveri dell’uomo of

8 On the rehabilitation of the aesthetic as distinct from ‘aestheticization’ by the Frankfurt School, see Kaufman (2000, 683).

7 Dimoula

1841 (Veloudis 2004, 105, 128‑9). From my point of view, I would argue that there is also in Solomos a utopian dimension which differs from the ideological utopianism described by Veloudis and depends precisely on the renunciation of any positive expression of hope for the future.

Adorno criticized the explicitness of hope and belief in its realization as

‘positive utopia’ and opposed to it his own notion of ‘negative utopia’, which refers to the possibility of art negatively to register freedom or ‘aura’.9 As he writes in the Aesthetic Theory, if the relationship between art and utopia is not mediated by negativity, if utopia becomes the object of art, then art betrays utopia:

at the centre of contemporary antinomies is that art must be and wants

to be utopia […] yet at the same time art may not be utopia in order not

to betray it by providing semblance and consolation. […] A

cryptogram of the new is the image of collapse; only by virtue of the

absolute negativity of collapse does art enunciate the unspeakable:

utopia (Adorno 1997, 41).

9 On Adorno’s critique of what he reads as ‘concrete utopia’ in the work of Ernst Bloch, see Jimenez 1986, 192.

8 Dimoula

Moreover, according to Adorno’s celebrated essay ‘On lyric poetry and society’ (1957), lyric poetry is a privileged site of negative utopia. ‘Lyric formalism’ is analysed by Adorno not as an escape from the sociopolitical, but as the only possible way of investigating the ‘new’, or the ‘not yet’ grasped, feature of what is emergent in the social.10

The connection of the utopian element with the figure of the negative originated in early German Romantic poetics, which exercised a pervasive influence over Solomos’s late work. Mark Grunert directly relates what he calls Romantic ‘utopianism’ or ‘messianism’ with the figure of the negative and argues that from Schlegel to Hegel and Benjamin to Adorno the negative as a primal figure of dialectical thinking is at the heart of the utopian programme of modernity (Grunert 1995, 47). The Romantic ‘kingdom of god’ or ‘absolute’ is not a vague hope for the future, but is part of the transcendental consciousness, and thus inextricably linked with the infinite process of poetic self‑reflection (Grunert 1995, 70). In poetry the absolute is only temporarily and imperfectly represented; it does not appear as a finished content. For Friedrich Schlegel this absolute is the ‘highest good’ which coincides with an ideal political order (Grunert 1995, 99). For Solomos, it is

10 For poetry’s indirect engagement with the social through language, see

Adorno 2000, 218. For the connection of this indirectness with the utopian ‘not yet’, see Kaufman 2004, 355.

9 Dimoula arguably the nation. The case of Hölderlin, for whom the ‘higher unity’ in poetry was the site of both the national and the religious, could be evoked as a closer parallel than Schlegel in support of this suggestion.11

The line from ‘The Eastern War’ (1854) quoted above admittedly differs from Solomos’s early work in that it does not refer directly to the contemporary event of the Crimean war (1853‑1856). It does not explicitly name Greece either (Veloudis 2004, 106). Yet it does not achieve the negative dynamic of the utopian, because it comes too close to a statement about the utopian, to a gnomic‑like displacement of hope for Greece as a better world of the future.

The much discussed image of the tree in ‘Carmen Seculare’ (1849) offers a more representative example of lyric poetry’s negative and critical relationship with reality. The reception of this poem is divided. Polylas interpreted it as a depiction of the ‘present state of the Greek nation and its future’ (Solomos 1961, 362). Some modern scholars, on the other hand, have rejected Polylas’s focus on the nation in favour of the mystical aspect of the

11 On Hölderlin, see Gaier 1986‑7, 30‑33, 52. As Veloudis indicates, there is no attested influence of Hölderlin on Solomos (1989, 223). However, the two share an indirect and complex engagement with the ‘national’ and a parallel reading would shed light on this vexed issue in Solomos. Due to limited space, I here limit myself only to some allusions to this parallel.

10 Dimoula poem.12 The discussion of the utopian aspect of the national in Solomos is arguably a way out of the dilemma. The problem with Polylas’s interpretation is not so much that he misses the mystical aspect of the poem – the national for Solomos was programmatically a priority – but that it makes it say what it deliberately abstains from saying. Drafted at the time of the European risings of 1848, ‘Carmen Seculare’ includes explicit references neither to contemporary socio‑political reality, nor to any future.13 In order to allude to both, Solomos invented in this poem a figurative idiom which was innovative in literature and broke with previous forms of political poetry.

It is on the grounds of this innovation that the poem offers the formal means of prefiguring the ‘new’ and shapes the emotional and intellectual preconditions for understanding it. As a literary representation, the image of the tree sets the place of ‘figurability’ which introduces the possibility of future theoretical constructions, but has nothing of their systematicity and

12 See especially Papazoglou (1995, 94), who argues for Solomos’s

‘mystical patriotism’ here.

13 Veloudis refers to the poem’s connotative engagement with reality, but does not connect it with the problematic of the utopian developed here (2004,

108).

11 Dimoula ideological closure.14 By contrast, the different discourse of Polylas’s commentary narrows down the utopian potential of this figuration, inseparable to poetry’s formal means, by ‘conceptualizing’ it as ‘the future of

Greece’.

The implied equivalence between the religious and the national is moreover inherent in the utopian character of the latter, as the convergence of the political with the absolute in early Romantic poetics, mentioned earlier, suggests. Besides ‘Carmen Seculare’, the connection of the religious and the national is evident throughout the ‘The Free Besieged’. The dream of the women in the second draft is an allusion to the community of the nation, but at the same time echoes the vision of of life described in Ezekiel 47

(1‑12):

And one said: It seemed to me that all of us, men and women, children

and old people were rivers, some small, some large and were flowing

among bright places, and dark places, in gullies, over cliffs, up and

down, and afterwards we arrived together at the sea with a great rush,

14 At this point I also draw on Louis Marin’s foundational work (1984,

163). See also the discussion by Wegner (2002, 38).

12 Dimoula

and in the sea our waters kept their sweetness […] (Solomos 2000, 25‑6,

draft II, fragment 7).15

Throughout the poem the most inclusively utopian vision available,

Christianity, is intertwined with the ‘national cause’. Christian connotations colour the whole treatment of the in the poem. They are repeatedly paralleled with ‘martyrs’ (draft II, fragments 4 and 13) and presented as the successors of the Israelites, the chosen people of God in the . The Palm

Sunday symbolism together with the symbolism of 25 March as the day of the

Annunciation runs through ‘The Free Besieged’ (see draft III, fragment 1), as

15 On Jameson’s Marxist reading, this figuration of collectivity, prefiguring the ultimate utopian collectivity, would be virtually synonymous with the utopian moment in the aesthetic realm. Jameson’s powerful gesture of rehabilitating totality, in the sense of collective human desire, at the heart of utopia is formulated in an often open antagonism to Adorno’s negative utopianism (see Pizer 1993). As will be suggested below, reading Solomos in the light of Adorno suggests that fragmentariness undermines the definite character of any figuration embedded in images. Certainly, the alternative reading remains possible: to read figurations of the ultimate collectivity as the missed chance to put an end to fragmentariness, as the potential solution to fragmentariness in the unconscious of the text.

13 Dimoula does the idea of the resurrection (draft II, fragment 44). Ernst Bloch theorized the religious space as a privileged site of the utopian impulse and refashioned it as a space for the vision of a society potentially realised in and through the historical process (Raulet 1976, 71‑85; Moylan 1997; Levitas 1990, 97). In ‘The

Free Besieged’ the nation becomes this space where religious hope has been re‑territorialized after it had abandoned the field of ‘orthodox’ faith (cf. Politis

2005, 256‑9). This makes it a utopian site par excellence.

It should be noted, however, that the dynamic of Solomos’s late work depends on the fact that this utopian society of the nation is never actually realised. The equivalence between the national and the religious preserves its revolutionary potential on condition that it relies on the formal means of poetry and is not explicitly stated. This equivalence, as is implied by Solomos throughout the second and third drafts of ‘The Free Besieged’, is not to be confused with the well‑known programmatic declaration in Solomos’s prose

‘Thoughts’, where the use of ‘national organs’ is called upon to embody the

‘transcendental depth’ of the Idea, and nationality becomes the means through which ‘metaphysics becomes physics’ (Solomos 1999, 31). What is expressed here is the philosophical idealist concept of art as the means of reconciliation of the infinite with the finite – which for Solomos takes the more specific form of the embodiment of the absolute in the national.

In opposition to this maxim of identity between word and thing, art and Idea, subject and object, Solomos’s fragmentary late poetry testifies to

14 Dimoula what Adorno called the principle of ‘non‑identity’ between the binaries just mentioned (Adorno, 1973, 5). It is on these grounds also that it joins the utopianism of Romantic transcendental poetics. It is utopian because the absolute coincides with the national not within the work, but outside it; both are equally absent from the work itself, which may infinitely evoke but never reach them. Seen in this light, the unfinished character of Solomos’s late work can be read as the basic condition for the utopian character of the nation in his poetry of this period. The representation of the nation in Solomos, like that of the absolute in early Romantic transcendental poetics, takes place at the level of the reflexive structure of the work of art; it is not a finished content or a realised presence. Ideology is most effectively resisted in the horizon opened up by the non‑identity of the self‑reflective work with itself, where a process is mobilized in which heterotopia and utopia alternate.

Throughout Solomos’s work, Greece is evoked as the ‘Other’, that cannot be contained within the work. As a utopian homeland, Greece is registered negatively, through the impossibility of ever being named. At the beginning of the third draft of ‘The Free Besieged’, the poet confronts a deified Greece, who is addressed as ‘Goddess’ and ‘Mother’, against a symbolic landscape of ‘leaves of Resurrection’, ‘Palm‑branches’ (in allusion to the ritual celebration of Palm Sunday), and addresses her:

But, Goddess, I cannot hear your voice,

15 Dimoula

And am I to offer it straight away to the Hellenic world?

(Solomos 2000, 47).

The emphasis on the ‘secret mystery’ (Solomos 2000, 47), or ‘rite’, in the same passage, as well as the endless reworking of ‘The Free Besieged’, together suggest a negative answer to the hope for directness expressed in the question. In a similar scene, but against a different landscape, Hölderlin had met the deified ‘priestess’ Germania, ‘hidden in the woods and flowering poppies’, and expressed the same idea of speaking a ‘truth’ while leaving it

‘unspoken’:

Now threefold circumscribe it,

Yet unuttered also, just as you found it,

Innocent virgin, let it remain (‘Germania’, in Hölderlin 2004,

497).

With Nationhood turned into a divinity, the fusion of the national and the religious resurfaces here in direct relationship with the problematic of unutterability (cf. Philipsen 2002, 358‑360). In Solomos, this pattern is nowhere more successfully implied than in the ‘negative simile’ in ‘The

Cretan’ (Solomos 2000, 7‑8; cf. Mackridge 1984‑5, 198‑9). To place Greece safely at the site of the ineffable deliberately left empty by the poem would

16 Dimoula certainly short‑circuit the negative dialectic of the figure and thus destroy the utopian as the place of Otherness. The inverse gesture is however legitimate: in the context of Solomos’s programmatically national late poetry, this

‘negative simile’ strongly suggests that, although the site of the ineffable might not coincide with the nation, the nation does in his work represent a site of the ineffable.

Solomos’s nationalism – if it may be called that – was as elusive as we might expect from one who steadily moved away from the documentary in favour of the utopian. It is no wonder that its exact nature was often missed in the history of his reception, and that indeed still remains a contested element in the making of modern Greece. The question which may be raised as a conclusion regards this paradox of a figure so consistently misunderstood and so unanimously recognized as the ‘national poet’. A glance back to Palamas encourages the suggestion that it was precisely at the crossroads between his complex poetic idiosyncrasy and its misunderstanding by later critics that

Solomos came to be canonized.

In the ‘Introduction’ to the Maraslis edition, Palamas deplored the state of affairs in Greece, according to which Solomos was merely the poet of the national anthem, and respect for his name resembled a ‘duty’, one which seemed to be based on a ‘law that one is scared of disobeying, or a social contract, that […] you are obliged to observe’ (Palamas 1981,104). However,

17 Dimoula the differences between Palamas and Solomos in terms of aesthetics complicated his programme of making amends for this situation and establishing respect for Solomos on purely poetic grounds. The difficulty is manifest when Palamas compares Solomos with Kalvos and Valaoritis. It then becomes evident that he cannot justify placing Solomos first; for Palamas,

Solomos is precisely the equal of Kalvos and Valaoritis, except that he is ‘more equal’: Valaoritis is a poet ‘similarly supreme’ (όμοια κορυφαίος) to Solomos; the latter nevertheless stands at the summit alone (στέκεται στην κορυφή

ασυντρόφιαστος) (Palamas 1981,133). Kalvos is emphatically the equal of

Solomos (ισοβαρής και ισότιμος), with the difference that in comparison he proves imperceptibly (αδιόρατ[α]) inferior (Palamas 1981, 154‑5).

Seen in this light, Palamas’s continuing preoccupation with Solomos begins to resemble an ungrounded, duty‑like obedience to a ‘law’, a charge which he himself had laid at the door of those who cared only about

Solomos’s patriotism. Paradoxically, this fact is immediately connected with the continuing appeal of Solomos as the ‘national poet’, to which Palamas himself largely contributed. If the concept of the ‘national poet’ still exercises some attraction today, this is to the extent that it still has the enjoyment proper to an ‘ideological form’, whose function is based on obedience to a constitutively nonsensical and unfounded ‘law’ (see Žižek 1995, 36‑7, 82‑4).

Read out of context, Palamas’s reference to Solomos as ‘the Poet without any qualification or ornament’ (Palamas 1981,105) comes close to explaining the

18 Dimoula function of Solomos as the ‘national poet’. Solomos is the Poet, a ‘pure signifier’ that gives unity to the ideological field of nationality, not because it symbolizes something, but because, as a signifier with a purely structural, performative function, it resists symbolization.16 If Solomos wins out against his poetic rivals, principally Kalvos and Valaoritis, as the national poet of

Greece, this is not because he is ‘more national’ but because he has always been read as ‘not simply’ national; not because he symbolizes more aspects of the nation, but because he gives little support to symbolization.

16 My discussion here is based on Žižek’s analysis of the ‘rigid designator’ (1995, 95‑100).

19 Dimoula

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