1
Images of Confinement
Proust, Dream of Fair to Middling Women
There is no evidence that Beckett read Platoâs Republic, instead picking up most of his knowledge of Ancient Greek philosophy from secondary sources. But while on his formative tour of German art galleries in 1936â7, he did see a dramatization of the legend in which Gyges becomes invisible by using a magic ring, discussed by Glaucon in the Republic (359c6â360c5).1 Responding to Friedrich Hebbelâs Gyges und sein Ring (1856) in a diary entry of 12 January 1937, Beckett stated his belief in âthe universal antithesis between the individual & collectiveâ (qtd in Nixon 2011: 53).2 This idea of a fundamental separation between self and world was a key concept for Beckett, expressed in deeply spatialized language in his early writing. In his review-cum-aesthetic manifesto âRecent Irish Poetryâ (1934), Beckett uses the image of a physical gap to outline the distance between the world and the artist aware of âthe new thing that has happened, or the old thing that has happened againâ, namely the breakdown of the relation between subject and object:
The artist who is aware of this may state the space that intervenes between him and the world of objects; he may state it as no-manâs-land, Hellespont or vacuum, according as he happens to be feeling resentful, nostalgic or merely depressed. (Dis: 70)
Beckett would spend most of his writing career trying to articulate this gap. Whether outlining the âantithesisâ between individual and collective or the âno-manâs-landâ of artistic alienation, images of confinement were central to his early aesthetics.
Uhlmann has compared Beckettâs use of philosophical concepts to the way in which he used paintersâ images in his work: âImages can pass between literary and philosophical discourse, no doubt being transformed in the process of translation, but also carrying with them something in common, a translatable component which inheres in the image which is put into circulationâ (2006: 3). Beckett drew on images of closed space when formulating key aesthetic positions on literature, philosophy, painting and music, all of which served as testing grounds in which he explored the âuniversal antithesisâ between the perceiving subject and the perceived world. It is with this multi-generic formation in mind that I have chosen in my chapter title the term âimageâ, which incorporates metaphor while also emphasizing the spatio-visual aspects of Beckettâs early aesthetic development. Uhlmannâs conceptual source MichĂšle Le DĆuff demonstrates how philosophers use images to veil parts of their systems of thought that take them to the edge of logic: âthe image, far from being a more or less pedagogical âillustrationâ of an abstract thesis contained elsewhere in the system, is always the mark of a tension, a signification incompatible with the rest of the workâ (Le DĆuff 2002: 93). In his use of closed space, confinement would become much more than just an image in Beckettâs work. But images of confinement were key to the way he created tension between what is presented and what lies beyond.
John Pilling has remarked that Beckettâs early poetry is marked by âinwardnessâ, with Beckett regularly using a first-person voice that deliberately excludes the reader with its range of references (2004: 5). As the speaker of the poem âCasket of Pralinen for a Daughter of a Dissipated Mandarinâ (1931) would put it, somewhat understatedly, Beckettâs early writing âwas perhaps inclined to be just a shade too self-consciousâ (CPSB: 33). The early fictional figures are as damned-up as their over-educated author, who stated that he had âenough âbutin verbalâ [âverbal bootyâ] to strangle anything Iâm likely to want to sayâ (SB to TM, 8 November 1931, LSB I: 93, 95). Alongside the hermeneutic enclosure created by Beckettâs erudite references, there is a strong focus on alienation from the outside world which is frequently described using images of confinement in his early fiction. From the âcaged resentmentâ of the protagonist of his debut short story âAssumptionâ (1929) onwards, Beckettâs characters are repeatedly portrayed as being trapped within themselves (CSP: 4). This self-confinement of Beckettâs early protagonists is part of a focus on alienation which he developed not only through his writing but also through his reading, his listening to music and his viewing of artworks in the 1930s.
Beckettâs veil
A key metaphor in Beckettâs writing during this period is that of a veil which cuts the subject off from reality. In a much-quoted letter of 1937, Beckett wrote in German to publisher Axel Kaun:
It is indeed getting more and more difficult, even pointless, for me to write in formal English. And more and more my language appears to me like a veil which one has to tear apart in order to get to those things (or the nothingness) lying behind it. (SB to Kaun, 9 July 1937, LSB I: 518)
Beckettâs image of language as a veil is indebted to the philosophy of Arthur Schopenhauer, whose own highly figurative style has made him extremely popular among literary writers. Beckett was attracted to read the philosopher while composing his monograph on Proust in 1930 and returned to his writing later in his career, finding that Schopenhauer could be read âlike a poet, with an entire indifference to the apriori forms of verificationâ (SB to TM, 21 September 1937, LSB I: 550). Schopenhauer was a rich source of philosophical images for Beckett.3 In The World as Will and Representation, Schopenhauer uses the Buddhist concept of the âveil of mÄyÄâ to describe the selfâs alienation from the outside world. This veil obstructs the self from seeing the thing-in-itself by clothing it in the âprincipium individuationisâ of appearance, through which time, space and causality divide a unitary reality into individuated representation (Schopenhauer 2010: 280). In an August 1936 entry in his âClare Streetâ Notebook, Beckett echoes this, writing of a âveil of hopeâ which can be momentarily torn apart so that âthe liberated eyes can see their world, as it is, as it must be. Alas, it does not last long, the revelation quickly passes, the eyes can only bear such pitiless light for a short while, the membrane of hope grows again and one returns to the world of phenomenaâ (qtd and trans. in Nixon 2011: 170; emphasis in original). In Schopenhauerâs philosophy, the body is the one object in the world of ideas that can also be experienced subjectively, giving us a means of accessing the blind, desiring will by escaping the categories of thought. For Beckett, language â specifically formal English â performs a similarly obstructive function as Schopenhauerâs principle of individuation with regard to the something, or nothing, that lurks behind it.
If the formal register of his mother tongue functioned as a deceptive veil, then it is perhaps no surprise that in Beckettâs texts, the incapacity of words to express reality leads often to gaps in the form of silence. This is a pervasive concern in his work: from the opening line of âAssumptionâ â â[h]e could have shouted and could notâ â to the main protagonist of Murphy â whose âsilenceâ is âone of [his] highest attributesâ â to his last dramatic fragment, the unpublished âEndhörspielâ (written c. 1987â8), comprising a brief dialogue between Silence and Voice (CSP: 3; Mu: 103).4 Beckettâs attempts in the 1930s to articulate what the narrator of Dream of Fair to Middling Women (written 1931â2; published 1992) calls an âaesthetic of inaudibilitiesâ frequently reference the use of silence in the music of Ludwig van Beethoven (D: 141). For instance, he complained about the shortcomings of an edition of Paul Ăluardâs poetry translated into English in which he had been involved: âno attempt seems to have been made to translate the pauses. Like Beethoven played strictly to timeâ (SB to TM, 17 July 1936, LSB I: 359). The narrator of âDing-Dongâ (1934) tells us that Dreamâs central protagonist Belacqua Shuah âlived a Beethoven pause, he said, whatever he meant by thatâ (MPTK: 32). In Dream, a spatial analysis of Beethovenâs music follows Belacquaâs fantasy of writing a book which would be experienced âbetween the phrases, in the silence, communicated by the intervals, not the terms, of the statementâ (D: 137):
I think of his earlier compositions where into the body of the musical statement he incorporates a punctuation of dehiscence, flottements, the coherence gone to pieces, the continuity bitched to hell because the units of continuity have abdicated their unity, they have gone multiple, they fall apart, the notes fly about, a blizzard of electrons; and then vespertine compositions eaten away with terrible silences, [âŠ] pitted with dire stroms of silence, in which has been engulfed the hysteria that he used to let speak up, pipe up, for itself. (D: 138â9)
Beckettâs use of silence has its hermeneutic equivalent in the physical gaps that appear in his work, both at a textual level and in the minimalist stage spaces he created.
In his 1937 letter to Kaun, Beckett again uses spatial imagery when writing about Beethoven. He asks:
Is there any reason why that terrifyingly arbitrary materiality of the word surface should not be dissolved, as for example the sound surface of Beethovenâs Seventh Symphony is devoured by huge black pauses, so that for pages on end we cannot perceive it as other than a dizzying path of sounds connecting unfathomable chasms of silence? (LSB I: 518â19)
Beckett wanted his own work to perform a similar function with regard to language. Language then could become a screen which would create an impression of there being âsomething or nothingâ beyond it. Here, the veil is something to be broken through, rather than removed:
To drill one hole after another into it until that which lurks behind, be it something or nothing, starts seeping through â I cannot imagine a higher goal for todayâs writer. (LSB I: 518)
This idea of a veil covering the âsomething or nothingâ beyond it would become crucial in Beckettâs theatre work, which allowed him to test out in different spatial formulations the ways in which confinement can produce new relations between the work and the world.
Proustâs âimprisoned microcosmâ
As well as thinking of the âsound surfaceâ of music as a material screen which composers like Beethoven could puncture, allowing for an articulation of seeming nothingness through the framing of silence within a particular aural context, Beckett also wrote about music itself as a means of breaking through what he terms in Proust the âscreenâ of habit, which âspare[s] its victim the spectacle of realityâ (PTD: 21). This again echoes Schopenhauerâs veil while also drawing on the exalted place of music in the German philosopherâs aesthetics. For Schopenhauer, music âstands completely apart from all the others [other art forms]â and beyond the individuating principle of appearance governed by time, space and causality. As it is âwholly independent of the appearing worldâ, music is able to get behind this veil and access âthe inner essence, the in-itself of all appearance, the will itselfâ (Schopenhauer 2010: 283, 285, 289). Beckettâs definition of music in Proust as âthe Idea itselfâ (PTD: 92), which momentarily transcends the suffering endured by the physical body but still exists within time, is a modified version of the aesthetics of Schopenhauer, who states âunlike the other arts, music is in no way a copy of the Ideas; instead, it is a copy of the will itself, whose objecthood the Ideas are as wellâ (Schopenhauer 2010: 285; emphasis in original). Aside from this misreading â or intentional modification â of Schopenhauerâs philosophy, what is interesting about Proust is that it quite baldly lays out an essentialist version of being. Given that his work is so dominated by incompletion and fragmentation, it might seem strange to come across Beckett writing about getting at âthe essence of ourselvesâ through involuntary memory (PTD: 31). However, in much of Beckettâs aesthetic writing, there is a tension between the system described and the practice evident in his work.
In spite of opening Proust with a declaration of intent to follow the French authorâs refusal to fashion his âcreaturesâ according to âspatial scalesâ and focus instead on the âdouble-headed monster of damnation and salvation â Timeâ, Beckett continually returns to metaphors of spatial restriction throughout the text (PTD: 12, 11). In this his first published monograph, Beckett is already conceiving of the alienated subject in terms of confinement. He compares Proustâs narrator Marcelâs inability to accommodate himself to the unfamiliar surroundings of a strange hotel room to âthe tortured body of [French cardinal] La Balue in his cage, where he could neither stand upright nor sit downâ (PTD: 24).5 The âspacious annexe of mental alienationâ from which âProust hoisted his worldâ foreshadows the monadic selves of Beckettâs later prose (PTD: 32). Proustâs characters, according to Beckett, are âhermeticâ and the only way for the writer to approach reality is through the imposition of solitary confinement within the âimprisoned microcosmâ of experience stored within the self (PTD: 74):
The artistic tendency is not expansive, but a contraction. And art is the apotheosis of solitude. There is no communication because there are no vehicles of communication. [âŠ] Either we speak and act for ourselves â in which case speech and action are distorted and emptied of their meaning by an intelligence that is not ours, or else we speak and act for others â in which case we speak and act a lie. (PTD: 64)
This leads Beckett to his quietist aesthetic manifesto: âThe only fertile research is excavatory, immersive, a contraction of the spirit, a descentâ (PTD: 65). â[I]f I may add this nux vomica to an apĂ©ritif of metaphorsâ, he begs of his reader, âthe heart of the cauliflower or the ideal core of the onion would represent a more appropriate tribute to the labours of poetical excavation than the crown of bayâ (PTD: 29). In the years following the publication of Proust, contraction within the self became a byword for Beckett when referring to his own artistic creation. In 1937, he sent a letter to his friend Thomas MacGreevy in which he describes writing poetry as âthe frail sense of beginning life behind the eyesâ (SB to TM, 16 February 1937, LSB I: 447). In 1932, he wrote of good poetry as that which goes âinto the burrow of the âprivate lifeââ and praised âwhat I find in Homer & Dante & Racine & sometimes Rimbaud, the integrity of the eyelids coming down before the brain knows of grit in the windâ (SB to TM, 18 October 1932, LSB I: 134â5). In writing his first novel, Dream of Fair to Middling Women, Beckett would burrow into his own private life as well as the lives of those around him.
Dreamâs âwombtombâ
The self-confinement in Beckettâs early prose and poetry follows directly from the incommensurability outlined in his aesthetic writing between the subject and the world of objects. ...