W H Auden's handwritten copy of 'Musee des Beaux Arts', public domain, courtesy of The Library of Congress.

A Formalistic Approach to W H Auden's 'Musee des Beaux Arts' Of course "objective" criticism is an absolute which like a wrapped parcel of water can be easily conceived but hardly realized. However, as in the scientific method, one can adhere to the "law of parsimony" which encompasses the notion of setting up general principles to piece together estranged facts. Once this ordering principle is conceptualized, it can be used in setting up a theory, or, if one is dealing with a poem, a central theme. This is the approach many critics have found enlightening, whether it be Aristotle, whose organizing principle was plot in tragedy, or T.S. Eliot, who employed tradition as a backdrop (criterion) for art. Again, it is through such an ontological approach that the specific facts are beaded and the theme clearly evoked. Indeed, it will be seen that this method is a fairly workable machine for discovering the design of W.H. Auden's "Musee des Beaux Arts." The most basic and, hence, the most easily accessible means of helping one discover "what a poem is all about" is meter. Clearly, Auden uses this tool to set up rhythm, but in which rhythm is employed to hint at the central principle of the poem (which then leads to the theme). Notice that the meter is, for the first two and a half lines, in the anapestic foot, which traditionally is a fairly refined, stately meter. In fact, such a meter renders dignity to the words "Old Masters" which, indeed, they do demand. Working with the rhythm itself, however, we immediately discover that a heavy stress is placed on the words "suffering" and "Old Masters." From the start, then, we are literally forced to realize that the poem will speak of suffering *and* of art. Also apparent is the fact that a strict rhythmic pattern is abruptly broken at the word 'human' (and with the heavy accent on it also). Beyond the word 'human', the classical structure of the poem weakens and a startling contrast is achieved. We learn at this point that we are dealing with human suffering which implies disorder and chaos as opposed to the strict order previously associated with the "Old Masters." The contrast is great; immediately rhythm no longer adheres to traditional rules (such as Aristotle's statement that epic poetry is the "poetry which imitates in hexameters"), but rather compliments the mood and images of the poem: "how it takes place (suffering) while "someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along." Here, one must literally drag himself through such a slow and long passage to achieve this sense of apathy and "dullness." Enumerated thus far, we have only distinguished a vague outline, and something more than meter must be supplied to clear and focus this picture, namely syntax and the words themselves are the other tools necessary for the task. Not only is the word 'suffering' at the beginning of the poem but emphasis is placed also on the "Old Masters" simply because of its position at the end of the sentence. The visual effects of capital letters and the colon reinforce this "respect" for the Old Masters. However, one next alights on the word 'it', and, indeed, through this word suffering is made to become commonplace and "nondescript": "how well they understood *its* human position...how *it* takes place...." Clearly, a new dimension has been added to the concept of suffering. The idea of "commonplace" suffering is now immediately reinforced by the "while someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along" line. Actions here are kept on the same plane or level by the coordinating conjunctions. Emphasis on any one action is, then, literally impossible--the idea of 'dullness' is clearly on more plausible ground. We have so far conveniently avoided the middle section of stanza one. If viewed closely enough at this point, however, one can immediately discover that a common denominator is at work here, namely the ordering principle is made apparent. Indeed, it is the method of contrast which is the central force of the poem--and whereas a contrasting meter was played forth at the start of the poem to evoke this idea, word-play and images are now emphasized: "the *aged* are...*passionately* waiting for the *miraculous birth.* Aged people are usually never described as passionate--and yet although death is near, it is through this very death that a new birth is realized. In a sense, then, death is, for the aged, birth. However, to youth, this miraculous birth is actually death (notice the past tense of the verb 'did'). Describing death by the word 'it' also beautifully allows one to gain insight into the children's view of mortality, namely death is hardly understandable and barely existent to them. A break ensues here, as emphasized by the colon, and we are back to the "Old Masters": "They never forget that even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course anyhow in a corner." While mentioning martyrdom as taking place in a corner, an even stronger contrast is achieved--we can no longer doubt what the poem's theme is. Auden is not only preparing us for Icarus' suffering which takes place in a corner, but he is also actually separating us, the reader, from this martyrdom which must remain in isolation. Indeed, the tragedy of human suffering is its very isolation which makes explicit the even greater tragedy of general lack of communication in the world. The last lines of stanza one sum up the idea of contrast, for they employ it as such to the greatest extent. Grave, dreadful martyrdom (the heavily stressed words) are pitilessly offset by the rather bland words, "untidy spot." The shock of combining animals with human words ("innocent behind") would normally never be used in such a dramatic poem. Clearly, stanza one employs the principle of contrast as begun with meter and ending with stark, repelling images. Importantly, however, something else besides the isolation of suffering (as we found through the mechanical tools of contrasting meter and imagery which in themselves enforce the idea of isolation) is at work here. It seems quite apparent that the last three lines of part one carry the principle of contrast and chaos to its absurdity. Now after we have been mercilessly thrust through 'untidy', ambiguous stanza one, we are again offset in the second part by the high degree of order and clarity so opposite to the beginning. Even the words "for instance" act as a focusing lens to zero in on the ambiguities of all that went on before. Immediately, we are told that suffering will be described but *in terms of Art* (or the 'Old Masters'). There are no "its" or "someones" or "doggy lives." Instead, there are clear, concise yet appropriately poetic, dramatic images at play here: "white legs"; "green water"; "expensive, delicate ship." We are even told explicitly of the repelled human condition which "turns away quite leisurely from the disaster." The image of such a startling contrast between suffering and apathetic complacency is made clear and concrete by Brueghel's Icarus--and beautifully poetic: "the expensive delicate ship that must have seen something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky, had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on." Indeed, suffering as described in Life (its human condition) is, then, chaotic, "untidy' and repulsive (as exemplified by such images as "innocnet behind" and "doggy life"). Art, however, enforces order in the idea of suffering and carries it forward with clarity and poetic beauty. In fact, the theme of the poem concerns itself not only with suffering but also with the transcending powers of Art over Life. We cannot lose sight of the fact, however, that the theme of "Musee des Beaux Arts" is displayed with the discovery of the force of contrast as the organizing principle. Again, it cannot be too greatly emphasized that such a principle is founded solely through formalistic methods, namely meter, syntax and imagery. copyright F R Hall

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 Landscape with the Fall of Icarus - Pieter Brueghel the Elder

Royal Museum of Fine Arts of Belgium, Brussels Rue du Musee 9