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a man who had fallen among thieves
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a man who had fallen among thieves
lay by the roadside on his back
dressed in fifteenthrate ideas
wearing a round jeer for a hat
fate per a somewhat more than less
emancipated evening
had in return for consciousness
endowed him with a changeless grin
whereon a dozen staunch and Meal
citizens did graze at pause
then fired by hypercivic zeal
sought newer pastures or because
swaddled with a frozen brook
of pinkest vomit out of eyes
which noticed nobody he looked
as if he did not care to rise
one hand did nothing on the vest
its wideflung friend clenched weakly dirt
while the mute trouserfly confessed
a button solemnly inert.
Brushing from whom the stiffened puke
i put him all into my arms
and staggered banged with terror through
a million billion trillion stars
ee cummings
Read poems about / on: fate, friend, fire, rose, star
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E Harris (7/25/2007 6:02:00 PM)
Another evocation of more than truth...squalor-crusted beauty....
But, again....
As in his 'a clown's smirk in the skull of a baboon' [see my comment on that poem, too], cummings' most grotesque and pitiable images and/or characters always seem to me to describe our very own quintessential dry-drunk problem child, mr. prez gwb, to a tee. IMHO, this poem's every line SCREAMS him and our current situation with uncanny accuracy.
How can this be? ? Why not? Doesn't the best poetry transcend time and space? To the Greeks, the mythical Orpheus was Poet AND Prophet. Personally, I think cummings can poefy-AND PROPHESY-with the best of 'em.
And with all due respect to Gary W's most interesting analysis below, I don't think these thoughts are any more of a stretch than his are.
As for the final stanza...would that any one of us alive today could, though 'banged with terror, ' gently and deferentially transport him of the 'eyes which noticed nobody', the 'changeless grin' and the 'fifteenthrate ideas' (along with all the staunch citizens and thieves he's fallen among, pleez) to a place so wondrously far. Wouldn't that be a miraculous and matchless act of love and charity on behalf of all the citizens and denizens, the flora and the fauna, of our planet...and to the sacred memory of the innumerable souls so cavalierly betrayed into oblivion? |
Gary Witt (12/17/2006 11:38:00 AM)
Here are a few thoughts. I hope they don’t appear too random.
1. As a matter of clarification, the first line of the third stanza (“whereon a dozen staunch and Meal”) should read “whereon a dozen staunch and leal” with no stop at the end. That’s how it reads in all the printed versions I’ve seen. I don’t know what a “Meal” citizen is or why Meal should be capitalized here, especially when there’s only one other capitalized word, and it comes after a lone period. “Leal, ” on the other hand, means faithful, loyal, and true. I might add that I had a difficult time finding the correct version online. Once a mistake is made on the internet it tends to perpetuate itself.
2. The allusion to the Good Samaritan is clear, and in that context the poem vividly expresses the difficulty of helping someone in dire circumstances. One must brush aside blood, vomit, and perhaps urine and take it all into one’s arms. A daunting prospect.
3. The first time I read this, I thought the poet-narrator was an angel or other supernatural being who carried the man off to heaven. However, that interpretation is probably a bit simplistic, and not in keeping with Cummings’ intent. It smacks of deus ex machina. Besides, angels don’t stagger, banged with terror. People do that. Just as fools also rush in.
4. Some commenters have equated the man by the side of the road with Christ, who was crucified between two thieves, jeered at and forced to wear a crown of thorns (a round jeer for a hat) , and at birth lay in the manger in swaddling clothes. The position of the man is sort of a “half crucifixion” with one hand on his vest and the other “wideflung” and clutching dirt, but weakly.
This is an interesting approach, especially considering Cummings’ Unitarian upbringing. He may not ever have believed in the divinity of Jesus, and there is nothing in this poem to support the resurrection. In fact, the man looked “out of eyes/ which noticed nobody…/ as if he did not care to rise.” The man is just a man; he may be Jesus but he is not the risen Christ. In fact, given a choice, he may have declined to “rise.”
But fate, “in return for consciousness” has endowed him with a “changeless grin.” Some commenters have assumed that the “changeless grin” implies the man was drunk when he fell among thieves. Perhaps. But the poet doesn’t say whose consciousness was traded for the changeless grin. And it appears fate was the one who endowed him with that changeless grin; he doesn’t seem to have had much say in the matter. What if the changeless grin is a reference to Jesus’ deification by his disciples? That deification, in turn, was perpetuated by the church and by organized religion in general, Catholic, Protestant, what have you. Frankly I think this fits better with Cummings’ temperament. Besides, there’s no reason for or purpose in assuming that Jesus was somehow drunk and therefore fell among thieves. So perhaps the changeless grin is a combination of Jesus’ deification and church doctrine, which was a trade-off for “consciousness” or true awareness of Jesus’ teachings. Question: whose consciousness was exchanged here, the man’s or “manunkind’s? ”
If the man by the roadside is Jesus, does that make the dozen leal citizens his disciples, as some have claimed? The implication is that Jesus’ ideals were betrayed by his own followers (all of them, not just Judas) , who paused to “graze” (not merely gaze) on his changeless grin and then moved on to greener pastures or newer logic (the “because” of the last line in that stanza—“newer” seems to modify both “pastures” and “because”) . Perhaps their promotion of Jesus’ divinity was an act of betrayal, fired by hypercivic zeal—some kind of twisted social responsibility.
BTW, you don’t need to substitute the word “Meal” for “leal” to come to this conclusion. “Meal” might be viewed as a reference to the last supper, but it’s not needed for this particular analysis.
One can also conclude that the man by the roadside represents Cummings’ own acceptance of and belief in the teachings of Jesus, but not necessarily of Christianity. The references to Jesus are undeniable, but so is the fact that he has been beaten up and left by the roadside—this in an era when the church itself was strong. The poet-narrator must brush aside the vomit and carry the man (all of him) away. It seems apt to call this a personal statement of Cummings’ embrace of Jesus and his teachings, rather than of Christianity. Also, the poem seems to reflect a personal decision by Cummings, rather than some kind of attempt to start a movement or save people on a grand scale. He refrains from engaging in evangelicalism.
Then there is the last stanza, in which the poet staggers off, “banged with terror through/ a million billion trillion stars.” Embracing the teachings of Jesus is not necessarily an easy thing. It may not offer any comfort to the poet-narrator. He is still pummeled with terror as he travels through an infinite universe. It’s clear that this second “assault” is coming from the natural world, the million billion trillion stars, but it also will likely come from science (studying the stars and concluding that God does not exist) , philosophy (see discussion of the humanists, and their fifteenthrate ideas, below) , and from the character who seems to hover in the background of many of Cummings’ poems, manunkind.
The poet-narrator doesn’t really “save” the man; he merely takes the man along with him. In some respects taking him along is an added burden, but it is an action the poet-narrator is compelled to take; just as the Good Samaritan was compelled.
5. Who dressed the man in fifteenthrate ideas, and why fifteenthrate? I mean, in order to be bad or unacceptable, an idea only has to be “secondrate.” So what’s the deal with fifteenthrate? I have no final answers here, but I do have a theory. The poem was first published in 1926, prior to publication in 1933 of the Human Manifesto by Raymond Bragg, a Unitarian minister. The Manifesto contains fifteen points of belief asserted by humanists at the time, and proclaims itself to be the start of a “non-deity-based” religion. The timing is a little askew, but I wonder if the line “dressed in fifteenthrate ideas” could be in response to a debate that may have sprung up in advance of the publication of the Manifesto. Cummings would have been plugged into “matters of concern to Unitarians” as a result of his upbringing, and as a result of his devotion to his father, who died the same year the poem was published. He might have found it difficult to accept a “non-deity-based” religion, even one that tries to dress up the teachings of Jesus.
6. For further support of the premise that Cummings was not convinced of Jesus’ divinity, see his poem, “the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls.” They believe in Christ and Longfellow, both dead. For a contrary view, see the final stanza of “Jehovah buried, Satan dead, ” in which the poet says, almost prayerfully, “King Christ, this world is all aleak; / and lifepreservers there are none: / and waves which only He may walk/ Who dares to call Himself a man.” |
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