The Stylistic Legacy of Religious Literature in Pär Lagerkvist's Poetry
[In the following essay, Brantly explores the religious influences on Lagerkvist's poetry.]
The question of literary influence is a popular but problematic topic within literary studies. Any given literary work is the product of numerous outside influences, the tracing of which is an impossible task of questionable utility. Frederik Böök has described these outside influences upon a poet's labours as, ‘Råmaterialet, hvilket af diktaren präglas med hans egna upplefvelser och formas efter hans eget väsen; en lyrisk dikt kan trots otaliga “förebilder” vara i högsta måtto originell.’1 Indeed, a frequently encountered danger in influence studies is that once connections with eminent literary models have been drawn, the original element in a given work may be easily overshadowed and neglected. A further complication in the question of influence consists of the fact that models can be used by an author both consciously and unconsciously. Unconscious influences tend to be much more elusive. Yet another pitfall in studies of influence is that a given motif or technique can have several possible sources, and one is not always able to identify with certainty the actual source.
With regard to the problem of influence, alongside the question, ‘What is the source of influence?’ resides the ancillary question ‘How has the source exerted its influence?’ It is this latter query which is the central interest of the study at hand. That Pär Lagerkvist's authorship was strongly influenced by religious literature is not a great discovery, but a known fact. Lagerkvist has written of his childhood:
Jag har haft den lyckan och förmånen att få växa upp i ett hem där litteraturen inte blott var något fullkomligt okänt men också något som av religiösa skäl trots obekantskpen därmed hatades som någonting direkt syndigt och en motbjudande flärd. I hemmet fanns inte andra böcker än Bibeln, psalmboken och Arndts postilla. Jag kan gott ännu minnas hur de stod på en liten hylla i köket och säkert ligger så ännu idag, utan att ha fått några ovärdiga grannar.2
Lagerkvist's earliest exposure to literature of any kind was to the above mentioned religious works. Lagerkvist not only knew them, but knew them well. Since this paper primarily deals with the stylistics of poetry, however, we will leave aside consideration of Arndt's postilla.
There is a procedure in biology which entails injecting a readily visible dye into a living organism, and by observing the progress of the dye through the system, a biologist can gain some insight into how that system functions. In order to explore the question of how literary models are incorporated into Pär Lagerkvist's poetry, an analagous technique will be employed in this study, the Bible and the Swedish psalm book serving as ‘a readily visible dye’. In other words, by following the traces of a well-known and easily identifiable literary influence through Lagerkvist's poetry, perhaps some insight into the workings of his literary method may be gained.
The Bible and the Swedish psalm book are particularly well suited to serve as tracing elements in Lagerkvist's poetry because of their primacy of influence. We have Lagerkvist's own testimony to the fact that both these religious works began exerting their influence quite strongly upon him at an early point in his life. With regard to the Bible in particular, this circumstance plus the ancience of the text itself considerably lessens the confusion brought about by a multiplicity of possible sources. Furthermore, the characteristic ‘bibelspråk’ makes biblical allusions relatively easy to identify. The Swedish psalm book is useful in this stylistic investigation of Lagerkvist's poetry in that the psalms are poetry written in the Swedish language for which Lagerkvist had a great deal of admiration. As a student in the gymnasium, Lagerkvist wrote his student paper on the Swedish psalm book. With regard to J. O. Wallin's revision of the psalm book, Lagerkvist writes of the psalmist's talents as a poet in superlatives:
Redan formen hos detta röjde den gudangivne skaldens förmåga att finna språkets välljud. Knappast aldrig förr hade det svenska språket format sig villigt och smidigt till den skönaste fulländing. Och innehållet var ej längre dogmatiska lärosatser utan tro, övertygelse och hänförelse.3
All things considered, the poetry of the psalms could be expected to exert a considerable influence on Lagerkvist's own efforts as a poet.
In addition to these factors, it is also important to consider that Lagerkvist could reasonably expect his contemporary audience to be fairly well acquainted with both the Bible and the Swedish psalm book. Thus, when Lagerkvist attempted to achieve a given effect, he could have counted on a good part of his contemporary audience being sensitive even to subtle rhythmic and symbolic allusions to these two sources. In her extensive study of young Pär Lagerkvist's aesthetic theory, Urpu-Liisa Karahka has pointed out Lagerkvist's interest in literary allusions as a stylistic technique.4 That Lagerkvist should wish to refer extensively to these religious sources is supported by their intimate connection to one of the central themes in Lagerkvist's authorship: How is modern man to fill the vacuum left by the departure of a belief in God?
To begin a stylistic study of Pär Lagerkvist's poetry, perhaps it is best to follow the example of both Sten Malmström and Sven Linnér by citing some of Lagerkvist's own words on the subject of style:
Det fulländade diktvärket är en inträssant, rikt skiftande komposition av stämningar och tankar som ständigt bryts mot varandra, åskådliggjorda jenom en mångfald olika stilistiska grepp och olika sätt att se, i ett språk, än melodiskt välljudande, än skrovligt, orytmiskt och abrupt, än yppigt, pompöst, än av den största enkelhet—ja, än medvetet överlastat med smycken.5
The terms ‘välljud’ and ‘enkelhet’ call to mind the poems of the Swedish psalm book. An examination of Lagerkvist's poetry reveals a plentitude of contrast and dissonance, and a favourite means of achieving this effect appears to be the juxtaposition of familiar and sonorous stylistic formulas from the psalms with startling, disharmonic elements.
For example, let us consider some stanzas from Lagerkvist's poem, ‘Nu vänder mor sitt bibelblad’:
Nu vänder mor sitt bibelbad
och följer skriften rad för rad,
där Herrens gärning träder fram
så dunkel, allvarsam.
Men när hans ord syns alltför stort
och alltför väldigt det han gjort,
då sitter hon i skymningen
och finner frid i den.
Då sitter hon men handen kvar
på dunkla ord, men uppenbar
syns henne världen runt omkring,
dess alla ting.
/ … /
Så satt måhända vid sin Bok
inunder stjärnehimlens dok
så mången gång ock Herrens själv.
Allsmäktig Herren själv.
Med väldigt finger pekar han
på ord som ingen fatta kan,
och djupt i mörkren tränger ner
hans blick som allting ser.
Men när hans visdom syns för stor,
då sitter han som du nu, mor,
så mild och god i skymningen
och vilar ut i den. / … /(6)
The scene described in the first half of the poem is one from Lagerkvist's own childhood. The portrait of Christian piety is painted in a simple iambic meter similar to that which appears in the majority of Swedish psalms. The meter of Lagerkvist's poem, however, is not entirely regular. Throughout the poem, the number of iambs in the final line of each stanza varies from two to three to four. This sort of meter results in a shade of hesitation after each stanza, which reinforces the hesitation of both the mother and God over the obscurities of divine wisdom.
The Swedish psalms, of course, are meant to have quite the opposite effect. The contrast between Lagerkvist's poem and the psalms may be seen more clearly by comparing a stanza from Psalm 450:
Väl den, som följer Jesu röst
Och hafver i hans ord sin tröst,
Till hans förtjänst sin tro och lit
Och öfver dygd med kristligt nit.(7)
The text of this particular psalm stanza, with its firm faith in the Bible's words, forms an ironic contrast to Lagerkvist's poem. The unbroken iambic quadrameter of this psalm has a lulling effect, and it urges upon the reader an unquestioning faith in divine wisdom. Lagerkvist's poem, on the other hand, incorporates hesitation into both meter and text. Lagerkvist's rather blasphemous suggestion that God Himself cannot understand His own ways produces an all the more disturbing effect on the reader familiar with the Swedish psalms, because of the psalmic echoes in the poem. ‘Nu vänder mor sitt bibelblad’ is a reaction against the Christian practice of turning to the Holy texts for solace in the face of the world's realities.
In the short poem, ‘Dig rörde aldrig mörkret’, one can also detect psalmic reminiscences in the meter language, and symbolism:
Dig rörde aldrig mörkret,
fast livet sorg dig gav,
fast ibland djupa skuggor
du stod vid öppnad grav,
fast du i smärta prövats,
fastän du led som vi
—men omkring dig var ljuset
som ej får mörker bli.
(p. 88)
The vocabulary of this poem is the vocabulary of martyrdom that appears in the psalms describing Christ's crucifixion. A pertinent comparison can be drawn between this poem and Psalm 91, ‘Ditt hufvud, Jesu böjes’. One stanza of this psalm reads as follows:
Ej solen mera sprider
Det ljus, af Gud hon fick.
En jord, där Jesus lider,
Ar icke värd dess blick,
Dock midt i mörkrets dimma
En nådesol går opp,
Då Jesu sista timma
Förnyar världens hopp.
The meter of this stanza is identical to that of Lagerkvist's poem. As in Lagerkvist's poem light prevails over darkness despite suffering. On the whole, the key words of Lagerkvist's poem are common catchwords of the crucifixion psalms, eg ‘grav’, ‘luset’, ‘mörkret’ (Tack dig, som grafvens mörka port / Har ljus med din begrafning gjort; Psalm 99), ‘smärta’ (Besinna, att det och är du, / Som ökat Jesu smärta; Psalm 82), and ‘led’ (Ty efter han, / Sann Gud och man, / Led det han ej förtjänte; Psalm 98).
The ‘du’ of Lagerkvist's poem is most likely a reference to simple, trusting, God-fearing people like Lagerkvist's mother. However, the ‘du’ of this poem is set apart from the rest of mankind referred to by a collective ‘vi’. The central figure of the poem is imbued with both the qualities of a Christ figure, and as implied by the line, ‘du stod vid öppnad grav’, is associated with the Madonna. Yet in the midst of these strong psalmic formulas, Lagerkvist strikes a note of dissonance. The dissonant effect is caused by the single phrase: ‘fastän du led som vi’. The innovation of this line can perhaps be more easily seen by comparing a more traditional line referring to the suffering of a martyr from Psalm 77: ‘Då Du led för mig dödstraffet’. In other words, had Lagerkvist intended to write a traditional treatment of martyrdom, he should have written: ‘fastän du led för oss’. Clearly, such was never Lagerkvist's intention. In Lagerkvist's poem, mankind is suffering as well as the martyred figure, and in a way, mankind's suffering is even more dismal. The central figure of Lagerkvist's poem possesses an immunity to darkness not shared by the rest of mankind. Thus, the divine light surrounding the central figure of the poem, whether caused by an unquestioning faith in God or actual divinity, is an advantage denied the majority. In the case of ‘Dig rörde aldrig mörkret’, the psalmic formulas are so strong that they almost drown out the dissonant note in the poem. As in the psalms, the reader's attention is drawn toward the suffering of the Christ figure, so that he may not notice the allusion to his own. All of mankind is suffering, but without the consolation of divine grace. Stylistically, this poem can be described as an adaptation of psalmic formulas in praise of Christian faith within which a single phrase distances modern man from this virtue.
The Bible and the Swedish psalm book have exerted their most substantial effect on the language of Lagerkvist's poetry. In his study, ‘Om ordbruk och komposition i Pär Lagerkvists Ångest’, Sten Malmström has already observed: ‘Det vore åtskilligt att säga om ord och uttryck i Ångest med klang av bibel och psalmbok, alltifrån ordet “arvedel” i diktsamlingens första rad till ordet “rum” såsom det brukas i samlingens sista dikter / … /’8 Words and phrases that Malmström gives as examples include ‘alena’, ‘mull’, ‘mitt kött’, ‘örter’, ‘bemänga’, ‘bittida om morgonen’, ‘ängder’, ‘dagens kvalm’, ‘de stunder som stånda’, ‘träda in’, and ‘stjärneskrud’. Rather than compiling a list of Biblical phrases in Lagerkvist's poetry, which would indeed be lengthy, it is more interesting to make a closer examination of these terms, comparing Lagerkvist's usage of them with their original Biblical context.
A good vehicle for this exercise is the well-known poem, ‘Ångest, ångest är min arvedel’:
Ångest, ångest är min arvedel,
min strupes sår,
mitt hjärtas skri i världen.
Nu styvnar löddrig sky
i nattens grova hand,
nu stiga skogarna
och stela höjder
så kargt mot himmelens
förkrympta valv.
Hur hårt är allt,
hur stelnat, svart och stilla!
Jag famlar kring i detta dunkla rum,
jag känner klippans vassa kant mot mina fingrar,
jag river mina uppåtsträckta händer
till blods mot molnens frusna trasor.
Ack, mina naglar sliter jag från fingrarna,
mina händer river jag såriga, ömma
mot berg och mörknad skog,
mot himlens svarta järn
och mot den kalla jorden!
Ångest, ångest är min arvedel,
min strupes sår,
mitt hjärtas skri i världen.
(pp. 7-8)
The soothing regular meter of the Swedish psalms is conspicuously absent in this poem. There is nothing soothing about the poem; it is a deep cry of anguish. ‘Ångest, ångest är min arvedel’ is not an obviously religious poem; in fact, any mention of God is deliberately avoided. We see ‘nattens grova hand’, not the hand of God. Nevertheless, certain phrases with a biblical background add to the desperate atmosphere. Suggestively, most of these phrases seem to be concentrated in the Book of Job and the songs of lamentation in the Psalter. The despair of ‘Ångest, ångest är min arvedel’ is commensurate with that of Job whose psychic pain is attended by physical suffering. This poem of Lagerkvist's is in its own way a modern lamentation.
In his despair, Job questions, ‘Men hwad gifwer mig Gud till löna ofwan efter; och hwad arfwendel den Allsmäktige af höjdene?’ (Job 31:2)9 Furthermore, Elifas describes the lot of the impious: ‘Ångest och nöd förskräcka honom, och slå honom ned.’ (Job 15:24) In these two quotations from Job we have two of the poem's key words in their biblical contexts. Although Elifas insists that a legacy of anguish is a punishment meted out by God to the impious, the case of Job shows that God's motives are not that simple, but are in fact impenetrable to mere mortals. ‘Min strupes sår / mitt hjärtas skri i världen’ is reminiscent of Job's words, ‘Jag will tala i mins hjertas ångest’, and further from the Psalter, ‘Jag hafwer ropat mig tröttan, min hals är hes, synen förgås mig; att jag så länge måste bida efter min Gud.’ (Job 7:11, Psalms 69:4) Another means of beseeching God's aid is to reach out one's hands: ‘HERre, jag åkallar dig dagliga; jag uträcker mina händer till dig.’ (Psalms 88:10) But as for the voice in Lagerkvist's poem, ‘Jag river mina uppåtsträckta händer.’. The poet's imploring gestures are met with physical pain and steely unresponsiveness. Job also speaks of men whom God has deprived of guidance and the capacity to understand, ‘De famla i mörkret utan ljus’ and the connection to ‘Jag famlar kring i detta dunkla rum’ seems clear. (Job 12:25) These terms and gestures, ‘ångest’, ‘arvedel’, ‘uppåtsträckta händer’, ‘famla kring’, are expressive in and of themselves; however, for a reader immersed in Bible terminology they possess further implications beyond their face value. Such is also the case of the word ‘klippa’ in the line, ‘Jag känner klippans vassa kant mot mina fingrar’. In the Old Testament, God is often addressed as ‘min klippa’, eg ‘Ty du äst min klippa och min borg’ (Psalms 31:3) and ‘Jag säger till Gud, min klippa: Hwi hafwer du förgätit mig?’ (Psalms 42:10). In Lagerkvist's poem, instead of the rock being a symbol of strength and refuge, it becomes a forbidding obstacle. As a further extrapolation, God is not a comfort, but a source of anguish.
Yet despite these numerous biblical associations, it is not necessary to interpret ‘Ångest, ångest är min arvedel’ as a religious poem. Erik Hörnström has suggested two further points of view based on familiar echoes in the poem. Hörnström notes the similarity between ‘Ångest, ångest är min arvedel’ and the first line of a poem by Erik Axel Karlfeldt: ‘Längtan heter min arvedel’. Thus, proposes Hörnström, ‘Det förefaller, som om Lagerkvists dikt skulle vara skriven i ansluting till och motsättning mot Karlfeldts kända romantiska poem.’10 Furthermore, Hörnström points out a rhythmic similarity between, ‘Ångest, ångest är min arvedel / Min strupes sår, mitt hjärtas skri i världen’, and these lines from a Heidenstam poem: ‘Sverige, Sverige, Sverige, fosterland, / Vår längtans bygd, vårt hem på jorden.’ On the basis of this similarity, he remarks, ‘Därmed är avståndet markerat till den nationella hemkänslan, som Lagerkvist vid denna tid stod främmande för.’11 In addition to these points of view, Kjell Espmark has presented a persuasive case for the influence of Baudelaire on the above cited poem: ‘Med Ångest intar Pär Lagerkvist en viktig plats i den stora baudelaireska tradition som siktar till att ge det inre livet sinnlig gestalt.’12 Espmark suggests that features of Lagerkvist's ‘ångestsceneri’ may have been inspired by Lagerkvist's reading of Baudelaire. That Lagerkvist would have been capable of consciously incorporating all of these many allusions into this one poem is difficult to accept. For this reason, it seems more likely that Lagerkvist's choice of biblical terms was in large part unconscious. When Lagerkvist sought to evoke images of anguish, the vocabulary of Job and the songs of lamentation in the Psalter may have simply suggested itself to him.
There are also certain symbols that are common enough in literature, but draw attention to themselves because of their relatively high usage in both Lagerkvist's poetry and religious literature. In this case the usage of these symbols in religious literature forms an illuminating backdrop to Lagerkvist's innovative use of these old symbols. For example, the two most common anatomical features in both the Swedish psalm book and Lagerkvist's poetry, particularly the collection Ångest, are the heart and the hand. In the psalm book, the heart is the seat of emotion and Christian belief. A typical line in the psalm book reads: ‘Mitt hjärta lyftad är till dig.’ (Psalm 422) A well-known Lagerkvist poem begins with an almost similar line, ‘Jag bär mitt hjärta i min hand’, but the traditional interpretation of this line is negated by the next statement, ‘det ligger så stilla’. (p. 11) The startling effect is also supported by the rhythm. ‘Jag bär mitt hjärta i min hand’ is written in the lilting iambic quadrameter one finds in many psalms; however, the subsequent ‘det ligger så stilla’ is virtually a monotone. The relatively meaningless religious cliché of a lifted heart abruptly becomes the grotesque image of a heart lying outside of the chest. The spiritual seat of Christian belief becomes an earthy human organ that has ceased functioning.
When the hand appears in the Swedish psalm book, it is most often in the context of divine intervention and organisation, eg ‘Allt hvila under Herrens hand’ (Psalm 436), or ‘Och ledas troget vid din hand / Hem till mitt rätta fadersland!’ (Psalm 432) Contrariwise, Lagerkvist writes the following:
Lilla hand, som ej är min,
vems är du i världen vida?
Jag fann dig i mörkret. Du är inte min.
Men jag hör en människa kvida.
(p. 14)
In Lagerkvist's poem, the disembodied hand lies in the darkness. There is no order or security, only confusion, misery, and two people who seek what solace they can from each other. Or in another poem, ‘Full av ångest jag skulle bland mänskorna gå, / alltid med din hand kring strupen.’ (p. 10) Life's hand does not safely guide the poet; it grabs him by the throat. Both the heart and the hand are symbols with a religious tradition behind them. Lagerkvist takes these symbols from the spiritual realm, and drags them down to the brutally earthly.
An example of religious symbolism that Lagerkvist seems to have made his own, however, is the practice of viewing the day as a microcosm of an entire lifetime, and less often of viewing the seasons of the year as the course of a life. Psalm 90:6 speaks of, ‘Det der bittida blomstras, och snart wisnar, och på aftonen afhugget warder, och förtorkas.’ In the morning, life is fresh and young, but in the evening, old, tired, and on the threshold of death. In the section ‘Lifvets korthet och dödens visshet’ in the Swedish psalm book, this motif becomes quite redundant:
Dagen som i skymning skrider,
Går för mig ej upp igen:
herre blif mig när! Det lider
Snart, ack, snart till aftonen.
(Psalm 451)
This same theme emerges early in Lagerkvist's authorship, as in for example, ‘Det är vackrast när det skymmer’. Through a very detailed analysis of the poem, Sven Linnèr has established that “‘Det är vackrast när det skymmer’ kan betraktas som en dödsberedelse, (Vandringen utan spår innebär ju att “gå bort”, at dö.) Dess symboliska handling, rimligen helt omedveten för författaren, är att acceptera döden utan skräck.”13 The time of day in the poem seen from the perspective of religious symbolism confirms this conclusion. This theme of evening identified with approaching death appears most strongly in Lagerkvist's final poetry collection, appropriately named Aftonland. Ingrid Schöier has conducted an extensive and very thorough study of this collection in which she among other things explores the themes of aging and death, as well as examines the numerous biblical references woven throughout Aftonland.14
One of the central symbols in Lagerkvist's authorship is the dichotomy of dark versus light, symbolism which is certainly prevalent in religious literature as well. Lagerkvist's use of dark/light symbolism is so extensive and complicated it would be inaccurate to suggest that Lagerkvist adopted the use of that symbolism as he found it in the Bible. The terms light and dark in both the Bible and Lagerkvist's poetry are used to express simultaneously vague and complicated concepts. Their meaning can change drastically within different contexts. The prevalence of dark/light symbolism in both religious texts and Lagerkvist's poetry is more a symptom of the use of the same literary technique. These symbols appeal to the feelings instead of the intellect; they evoke sensations and resist definition. As an example, darkness is used in the Book of Job variously as an expression for or of: sorrow (Mitt ansikte är mörkt wordet för sorg skull, Job 17:7), evil (Jag wänte det goda, och det onda kom: jag wänte ljuset, och mörkret kom, Job 30:26), oblivion (Han skall fördrifwen warda ifrå ljusena i mörkret; och af jordene bortkastad warda, Job 18:18), ignorance (Att de famla i mörkret utan ljus; och förwillar de såsom de druckna, Job 12:25), and death (Hafwa dödsens dörar någon tid uplåtit sig för dig; eller hafwer du sett dörarna åt mörkret? Job 38:17).
Perhaps the basic difference between Lagerkvist's use of dark/light symbolism and the Bible's is that in Lagerkvist's poetry, darkness is not always undesired, and it seems to be man's natural element:
Jag är trött, så trött i mörkret,
segnad ned på trygga jorden,
Vad är ljuvt och gott som mörkret,
vad barmhärtigt såsom jorden.
(p. 70)
Light characterizes the spiritual, and dark the earthly. Man, of course, is a creature of the earth, but is born with a longing for the light: ‘I mörker föddes livet / … / Till ljuset längtade det blinda livet, som till sin mor.’ (p. 134) Man's being seems to be a mixture of both dark and light, with the dark side tending to be dominant:
O stilla sång ur själens katakomber,
där död och mörker råder
sedan länge.
O under neri djupet, ibland gravar.
Ej ifrån ljusa trakter
sången hoppfullt stiger,
ej ifrån sommarängar i ditt väsens rike,
men ur de djup där vilar allt det döda.
Uppståndelse! Vad ljuvligt namn att höra.
Uppståndelse! Ur graven sången stiger
med nyfödd tro,
född i ditt väsens mörker,
i det förgångnas, i det dödas boning.
O liv och död, av okänd makt förenta,
i dolda djup,
i själens segerstillhet.
(p. 141)
The song of resurrection rises from the dark side of man's nature, the side closest to death that seeks some sort of solace. The dark component of man's being suffers and contemplates; whereas, the light portions are untroubled and unreflective. The darker side of being is in greater need of the comforting doctrines of religion.
In the Bible, God and Christ are symbolized by light. As it is written in the Book of John regarding the coming of Christ: ‘Och ljuset lyser i mörkret; och mörkret hafwer det icke begripit / … / Det war det sanna Ljuset, hwilket uplyser alla menniskor, som komma i werlden. I werldene war det, och igenom det är werlden gjord; och werlden kände det icke.’ (John 1:5, 9-10) Judging from his poetry, Lagerkvist seems to be discontent with the darkness' inability to comprehend the light. At the same time that man yearns from darkness to light, the divine light of religious belief is something that few humans can reach. The unfulfilled yearning for belief, for God, is a source of frustration and anguish for the poet. There also exists, of course, the possibility that one is longing for something that does not exist:
Du kommer från dina drömmars land,
från öppna vidder och himmelsbrand.
—Jag är en mämmiskoklyftans son.
Ar Härifrån.
/ … /
Min broder
Räck mig din brodershand.
Jag tror på mörkret,
på människoland.
(p. 101)
The themes of longing, frustrated longing, anguish, and resignation to the earthly shift and flow through Lagerkvist's poetry, often eloquently expressed by the interplay of light and dark.
Though the light of religious belief tends to stay exasperatingly out of the poet's reach, the light of human love is much more accessible:
Det goda, varma skenet
som dina ögon har—
är det din själ som brinner
med sådan låga klar?
Hur kan förklarad brinna
en sådan eld som din,
och som i ljusa salar
till dig jag träda in?
Det goda, varma skenet,
är det av kärlek tänt,
den kärlek som är hjärtats
och som jag aldrig känt?
(pp. 87-88)
This poem is a song of praise written in simple iambic meter, using typical psalmic vocabulary like ‘sjal’, ‘kärlek’, ‘i ljusa salar till dig jag träder in’; however, this poem is written in praise of human love, not divine love as in Psalm 219:
Gud, fullkomlighetens källa
Du, som idel kärlek är
Och kan ensam tillfredställa
Själens trängtande begär!
Quite to the contrary, in Lagerkvist's poetry this divine love remains generally out of reach and agitates rather than assuages the soul's longing. The light of human love, however, can be lit upon the earth; it is a touch of the spiritual within reach of mankind's physical being.
Having examined some means by which religious literature exerts its influence over Lagerkvist's poetry, I would like to concentrate upon two poems from the collection Kaos, ‘Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’ and ‘Nu löser solen sitt blonda hår’. The section in which these poems appear is entitled ‘I stället för tro.’ To begin with, this title implies that the poems within the collection constitute a reaction to the secure religious belief of Lagerkvist's childhood home, or rather to the loss of it. In his book, Troende utan tro, Alf Ahlberg has written of Lagerkvist and his contemporaries: ‘De gamla kristna trosformelerna och symbolerna har för många och förmodligen ett växande antal människor förlorat sin kraft och mening och tillfredsställer inte längre deras religiösa behov. Men just därför har uppstått ett tomrum och därmed ett slags “horror vacui” …’15 In an effort to fill this vacuum, Pär Lagerkvist has retained some of the old Christian symbols and formulas, and artistically rejuvenated them, but has replaced the absent belief with his own ‘religious atheism’. Thorkild Bjørnvig has written of Lagerkvist, ‘Han skaber undertiden Billeder for Troen, der er kraftigere end de Troende i Dag selv kan skabe.’16
The text of ‘Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’ reads as follows:
Lyft dig på blodiga vingar,
gamle rättfärdige gud,
du som världar betvingar,
du alla himlars gud.
Lyft dig ur blodiga redet,
där du din tanke tänkt,
den enda, den stora och starka,
den du åt oss har skänkt.
Herre, vi tänka som trälar
det du tänkte som gud,
Hör du vårt skri i natten,
till dig, till dig för det bud.
Bryt dig på dånande vingar
väg genom mörkrets hav.
Djupast här nere du finna
skall vår blodiga grav.
Se vårt blodiga rede,
där vi nu kämpat till slut.
Tanken vi kunde ej fatta
och tänkte den likväl ut.
Kampens och livets tanke,
blodets mäktiga röst
blev blott ett vrål i natten
ur söndersargade bröst.
Alltför stort var det stora,
vi gjorde det grovt och smått.
Men den längtan som drev oss i döden
var av ditt eget mått.
Se vårt rede som klibbar
fast vår dödströtta kropp.
Inga vingar oss lyfta
till dig, o herre, opp.
Inga vingar oss lyfta,
du måste komma till oss.
Fjärran och dold är din klyfta,
fjärran och dold för oss.
The rhythm is regular, the vocabulary simple, and the impact intense. Lagerkvist achieves this intensity through his vivid imagery and through the repetition of key phrases. The topography of the poem entails two bloody nests separated by a sea of darkness. High above and out of reach lies the nest of an all powerful god; far below lies the nest of a powerless mankind.
Erik Hörnström has observed that since this poem was published in 1919, the anguished cry in the text was probably inspired by the carnage of World War I. Hörnström also suggests that the god addressed in the poem is ‘den Gamla testamentets Gud, som Lagerkvist i barnaåren gjorde bekantskap med i morföräldrarnas hem.’17 This observation is borne out by the means in which God is addressed in Lagerkvist's poem, ‘gamle rättfärdige gud.’ God is referred to as ‘rättfärdighets Gud’ often in the Old Testament. For example, Psalms 4:2, ‘Hör mig, när jag ropar, mine rättfärdighets Gud; du som tröster mig i ångest: war mig nådelig, och hör mina bön.’ Indeed, if one reads in the Psalter, one soon notices that the voice of Lagerkvist's poem is not the first to cry out in suffering and demand the intervention of God.
In writing ‘Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’, Lagerkvist seems to have emulated the Old Testament genre of the song of lamentation. The best example of this genre is Psalm 88, ‘en Bönepsalm, som innehåller en jämmerlig och bedröfwelig klagan’. There are several parallels between Lagerkvist's poem and this particular psalm. Both the voice in Lagerkvist's poem and the psalmist of Psalm 88 describe their suffering in similar terms. The psalmist complains: ‘Jag ligger ibland de döda öfwergifwen såsom de slagne, de i grafwene ligga: å hwilka du intet mera tänker, och de ifrån dine hand afskide äro. Du hafwer lagt mig i gropene neder uti mörkret och i djupet.’ (Psalms 88:6-7) Correspondingly, in ‘Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’:
Bryt dig på dånande vingar
väg genom mörkrets hav.
Djupast här nere du finna
skall vår blodiga grav.
Se vårt blodiga rede,
där vi nu kämpat till slut.
Like his Old Testament counterpart, the voice in Lagerkvist's poem describes his condition as abandoned amidst carnage in a deep, dark grave. These images evoke an impression of deep anguish. As the previous discussion of light/dark imagery should suggest, in Lagerkvist's own language the poet finds himself on earth at evidently one of mankind's ‘darkest’ hours.
Both the psalmist and the voice in Lagerkvist's poem would like to extricate themselves from this plight, but they lack the power. As it says in the psalm: ‘Jag ligger fången, och kan icke utkomma.’ (Psalms 88:9) Similarly, Lagerkvist writes: ‘Se vårt rede som klibbar / fast vår dödströtta kropp. / Inga vingar oss lyfta / till dig, o herre, opp.’ The Old Testament psalmist and Lagerkvist's poetic voice share a feeling of powerlessness and frustration that leads to desperation. Both the poem and the psalm address themselves to God, and ask for His intervention for release from the misery. In the words of the psalmist: ‘HERre Gud min Frälsare, jag ropar dag och natt in för dig. Lät mina bön komma in för dig: böj din öron till mitt ropande.’ (Psalms 88:2-3) In Lagerkvist's poem it becomes: ‘Hör du vårt skri i natten, / till dig, till dig för det bud.’ In ‘Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’, the call has intensified in desperation from a cry to a scream. However, neither the voice in Lagerkvist's poem or the psalmist find reprieve or solace from God despite their prayers. The psalmist questions: ‘Hwi förkastar du, HERre, mina själ? Och förskyler ditt ansikte för mig?’ (Psalms 88:15) The counterpart in Lagerkvist's poem reads: ‘Fjärran och dold är din klyfta, / fjärran och dold för oss.’ Both the psalmist and the voice in Lagerkvist's poem are confronted with a hidden God. This theme of the hidden God has been identified by Gunnel Malmström as one of the main motifs in Lagerkvist's authorship.18
Thus the parallels between these two lamentations seem quite distinct. Lagerkvist seems to have adopted the Old Testament formula of calling for divine intervention when the situation seems most dire. Yet, in ways, some quite subtle, Lagerkvist has varied from the Old Testament formula grounded in an unshaken belief in God. The psalmist despite his devastation, never questions that God could save him from his situation if He willed it so. The desperation of Lagerkvist's poetic voice had driven him to the brink of doubt, but that chasm, the thought that there is no source of rescue, is the most frightening prospect of all. Thure Stenström has noticed that it is a feature of Lagerkvist's authorship that the knowledge that God does not exist ‘utlöser den stora trånaden, den stora saknaden, den mest brinnande bönen.’19 The urgency of the voice in Lagerkvist's poem has most likely been caused by the suspicion that there will be no divine intervention forthcoming.
In his analysis of ‘Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’, Hörnström suggests that the poem be seen in the context of ‘underkastelsen och ödmjukheten’.20 When Sven Linnèr takes up the poem in Livsförsoning och idyll, he writes that to this intepretation of Hörnström's ‘önskar jag icke att tillägga någonting.’21 The qualities of humility and submission are certainly present in Psalm 88, and because of its strong formulaic similarity to the psalm, it is easy to read Lagerkvist's poem with these attitudes in mind. Yet these qualities are to an extent automatic by-products of the biblical formulas incorporated into the poem. When one focuses upon the points of variation between ‘Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’ and Psalm 88, one is able to detect hints of accusation and anger on the part of Lagerkvist as well.
To begin with, Psalm 88 is a personal song of lamentation and the psalmist speaks in the first person singular ‘jag’. The voice in Lagerkvist's poem uses the first person plural ‘vi’. Lagerkvist's poem complains of God's neglect of all mankind, not of a single individual as in Psalm 88. The psalmist accounts for his miserable situation by assuming that he has somehow incurred the wrath of God: ‘Jag är elände och wanmäktig, att jag so bortkastad är: jag lider ditt förskräckande, så att jag fullnär förtwiflar.’ (Psalms 88:16) In Lagerkvist's poem, man's desperate situation has been caused by the inherent inadequacy of mankind. Self-effacement and the admission of mankind's manifold failings in itself is a common religious formula which in Lagerkvist's poem generates the ‘humility’ that Hörnström detected in the poem. Yet, there is also the hint of accusation that God has expected too much from the feeble creatures he created; thus, the fault for man's plight does not rest entirely upon man's shoulders: ‘Alltför stort var det stora, / vi gjorde det grovt och smått. / Men den längtan som drev oss i döden / var av ditt eget mått.’ God has endowed man with divine aspirations, but not the means to fulfill them. As evidenced by Lagerkvist's poem, the combination is disastrous.
Another point of variance lies in the central symbol of Lagerkvist's poem, ‘blodiga vingar’. Hörnström has written of blood as a symbol in Lagerkvist's works: ‘Blodet innehåller livet, är symbol för livet, är livet.’22 Linnèr summarizes the significance of blood as ‘den fysiska och den psykiska kraften i människan.’23 Of course, blood can represent power and life only as long as it remains coursing through the veins. In ‘Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’, the blood has been spilled across the landscape of the poem, and mankind is wearied to the point of death. Far from a source of strength, the spilled blood becomes a sticky mire from which man cannot extricate himself. Also, it is important to note that the blood from this carnage has spattered upon God Himself. The blood that drips from the wings of God can be interpreted as a tacit indictment of God's complicity in bringing about the slaughter surrounding mankind: ‘Lyft dig ur blodiga redet, / där du din tanke tänkt, / den enda, den stora och starka, / den du åt oss har skänkt.’ The ‘great thought’ bequeathed to man by God was the instrument of man's undoing. For an ironic comparison, it is interesting to note in what context the wings of God appear in the Old Testament: ‘Huru dyr är din godhet, Gud, att menniskors barn tröst hawfer under dina wingars skugga.’ (Psalms 36:6) It does not appear that mankind in Lagerkvist's poem has found much of a refuge under God's wings.
As Hörnström observed, the God in ‘Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’ is most closely identified with the Old Testament Jehova, capable of creating horrors as well as miracles. Yet, even if Jehova might punish an individual sinner, He is not indifferent to the rest of mankind. In Lagerkvist's poem, God has hidden himself from the entire world. This seems to be not so much a case of punishment as one of criminal neglect. From this point of view, it is possible to read the epithet ‘gamle rättfärdige gud’ with a note of disdain behind it. The justice in the carnage wreaked in Lagerkvist's poem is not obvious, and if it exists as a part of ‘God's greater plan’, then it is cruel to let mankind destroy itself in ignorance of that justice. The poet's loss of respect for this ‘gamle rättfärdige gud’ corresponds to the loss of capitals in his form of address, ie ‘o herre’ versus the ‘HERre’ of Karl XII's Bibel.
Since the Old Testament, man has cried out to be shown the meaning of God's ways, and an answer to this call has been vouchsafed only a handful of prophets and visionaries. The rest of mankind has had to resign itself humbly to perpetual incomprehension; however, the voice in Lagerkvist's poem is not content with being left in ignorance. An example of the former naive resignation can be found in the Swedish psalm ‘Den signade dag’:
Ack, saliga dag, ej uppenbar
För världens fåfängliga trälar!
Du strålar så skön, du lyser så klar
För fromma och menlösa själar,
För enfaldens öga och oskuldens tro
Nu och förutan all ände!
Inherent in this stanza is the simple belief that even if we cannot understand God's ways, God is just and will take care of believers. The voice of Lagerkvist's poem likewise admits the inferiority of man, ‘Herre, vi tänka som trälar / det du tänkte som gud,’ but as was mentioned previously, this is merely a religious formula. The voice in ‘Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’ does not share the faith that God rewards goodness and punishes evil. Lagerkvist's poem does not admit that mankind is deserving of punishment, for the race has only acted in accordance with the way it was created. The contrast between the despair in Lagerkvist's poem and the religious optimism in the above cited psalm is striking. Indeed the juxtaposition of the two makes the simple belief in the psalm seem extremely naive in the face of life's grim reality.
There is another note of striking contrast between ‘Den signade dag’ and ‘Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’:
Men såsom en fågel mot himmelens höjd
Sig lyfter på lediga vingar,
Han lofvar sin Gud, är glad och förnöjd,
När han öfver jorden sig svingar:
Så lyfter sig själen i hjärtelig fröjd
Till himlen med lofsång och böner.
Lagerkvist's answer to this bit of optimism is: ‘Inga vingar oss lyfta, / du måste komma till oss. / Fjärran och dold är din klyfta, / fjärran och dold för oss.’ ‘Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’ is far from a song of praise. Spiritual placebos like that administered in ‘Den signade dag’ no longer have an effect in the face of the slaughter in ‘Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’. The opiate has worn off and the ‘vrål i natten ur söndersarade bröst’ may be heard. Mankind has no spiritual wings with which to reach God; it is mired in its own blood, held fast in the material world.
From this point of view, I find it difficult to detect the submission that Hörnström read into the poem. ‘Du måste komma till oss’ has a demanding note behind it. The voice in Lagerkvist's poem does not accept the fate of man as a punishment deserved by man, but rather it seems like a catastrophe God allowed to occur through His neglect. The only solution to man's plight seems divine intervention. Yet behind the demand for the return of God's attention lies the frightening possibility that God may have given up on us and left us to destroy ourselves.
The poem ‘Nu löser solen sitt blonda hår’ directly follows ‘Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’ in the poetry collection. The landscape of ‘Nu löser solen sitt blonda hår’ is as beautiful as the one in ‘Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’ is grim:
Nu löser solen sitt blonda hår
i den första gryningens timma
och breder det ut över markens vår
där tusende blommor glimma.
Hon väter det tankfull i svalkande dagg,
i blommornas fuktiga gömmen,
hon lossar det varligt från rosornas tagg,
men tveksamt, förströdd, som i drömmen.
Hon låter det smeka skog och äng,
hon låter det fara för vinden.
Nu smeker det barnen i deras säng
och de gamla på skrovliga kinden.
Men hennes tanke är borta från allt;
vad kan denna glädje väl båta?
Hon drömmar bland stjärnor som tusenfalt
förstora det levandes gåta.
Hon löser sitt hår och breder det ut
i morgonens saliga timma;
och drömmer bland världar som gått förut
och nya som längtande glimma.
In ‘Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’, mankind was forced into despair and doubt from the agony caused by the brutal realities of life. This sort of reaction was predicted by Satan in the Book of Job: ‘Men räck ut dina hand, och kom wid hans ben och kött, det gäller, han skall wälsigna dig i ansiktet.’ (Job 2:5) Yet in ‘Nu löser solen sitt blonda hår’, nature is at its best, but doubt is still present. In fact, it is expressed much more clearly than in the previous poem.
‘Nu löser solen sitt blonda hår’ is best viewed against the background of the religious literary tradition surrounding the theme of nature's rebirth. This motif is prevalent within the morning psalms of the Swedish psalm book, including ‘Den signade dag’ which has already been discussed in connection with ‘Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’. The themes of springtime and nature's rejuvenation also dominated the nature depictions of the Reformation, and Lars Wivallius' ‘Klage-Wijsa, Ófwer thenn Torra och kalla Wåhr’ is an excellent example of the genre. Typically, ‘Våren och sommaren skildras som pånyttfödelsens, blomstringens och glädjens tid, och i kontrast härtill franställes vintern som bristens, tvångets, dvalans, lidandets och sorgens tid.’24 Placing this opposition in the context of Christian symbolism, the coming of spring is connected with Christ's resurrection: ‘Gudens födelse och uppståndelse är triumfen över kaosmakterna och hans död är deras tillfälliga herravälde.’25 It is indeed fruitful to include a comparison of Wivallius' poem in an analysis of ‘Nu löser solen sitt blonda hår’ because the two poems seem to have been influenced by basically the same sources. Wivallius' poem draws heavily upon references in the Psalter, and it was also written to be sung to the melody of ‘Den signade dag’. A direct influence from Wivallius' poem upon Lagerkvist's is not at all impossible. In fact, there are some distinct parallels between the two poems that make the comparison all the more noteworthy.
We can begin the examination with a comparison of three stanzas, one from each of the poems in question, with an eye to thematic and even rhythmic similarities: The psalm book,
Den signade dag, den signade tid
Hvar morgon jag månde betänka,
Då nådenes sol, så härlig och blid,
Rann upp för all världen att blänka
Och herdarna hörde
Guds änglar i skyn,
Som sjöngo, att dagen var kommen!
Wivallius,
Een torr och kall Wåhr, gör Sommaren kort,
Och Wintrens föda fördrifwer,
Gudh hielpe som råår, sij Wåren går bort,
Och lijten Glädie oss gifwer,
Sool warma, förbarma,
Hoos Wädret tort,
Nu Kölden Sommaren rifwer.(26)
and Lagerkvist,
Nu löser solen sitt blonda hår
i den första gryningens timma
och breder det ut över markens vår
där tusende blommor glimma.
The meters of these poems are certainly not identical, but they share certain metrical features which cause a rhythmic resemblance between ‘Nu löser solen sitt blonda hår’ and the initial four lines in the stanzas of ‘Den signade dag’ and ‘Klage-Wijsa’. The meters of each of these poems consist of a variable mixture and iambs and anapests. A line of four stressed syllables composed of iambs and at least one or two anapests alternates with a line of three stressed syllables composed of iambs and at least one or two anapests. Each poem also alternates masculine and feminine rhymes. These features which are more noticeable than the number of unstressed syllables bring about the impression of similarity.
The texts of the above cited stanzas contain points of thematic comparison as well. Each refers to the arrival of the sun. Within religious literature, the arrival of the sun in the morning, or of good weather in the spring is often given as a proof of the attention and favour that God is bestowing upon mankind. As is maintained in the psalm ‘Morgonrodnan mig skall väcka’:
Samma sol, som fordomtimma
Ófver Edens lunder brann;
För hvars strålar nattens dimma
Från en nyfödd jord försvann:
Si, hon lika härlig brinner,
Lika mild hon oss påminner,
Att men samma nåd och makt
Herren på sitt verk ger akt.
In ‘Den signade dag’, the arrival of the sun is treated as a metaphor for the coming of Christ. In ‘Klage-Wijsa’, the delay in the arrival of warm weather is seen as a sign of God's disfavour. However, the case with ‘Nu löser solen sitt blonda hår’ is quite different. The poem takes place ‘i morgonens saliga timma’, blessed because it is the hour usually associated with God's favour and man's salvation. The season is early spring, the time of year that traditionally proves God's beneficence. As the poem progresses in its lulling rhythm with its beautiful imagery, the reader might come to expect a song of praise and a reaffirmation of God's mercy. For this reason, a dissonance arises with the lines:
men tveksamt, förströdd, som i drömmen
/ … /
Men hennes tanke är borta från allt;
vad kan denna glädje väl båta?
Hon drömmer bland stjärnor som tusenfalt
förstora det levandes gåta.
The traditional ‘proofs’ of God's grace are stripped of their significance.
With a few broad and simple strokes, Lagerkvist is able to evoke visions of the typical reformation spring landscape that Wivallius' poem describes in relative detail. In the first two stanzas, Lagerkvist writes of dew-dampened flowers. Throughout the poem, but particularly in the initial stanzas of ‘Klage-Wijsa’, Wivallius somewhat repetitiously dwells upon the need for dew and rain, and his concern for the young flowers: ‘Godt Maije-Regn giff, lät dugga tätt neer, / Lät warm Dagg Örterna fuchta, / Oss Torckan bortdrijff, lät Frostet ey meer / The späda Blomsteren tuchta.’ This request of course is addressed to God who ‘Den himmeln med skyr betäcker, och gifwer regn på jordena; den gräs på bergen wära låter.’ (Psalms 147:8) Next, Lagerkvist writes of the sun's hair: ‘Hon låter det smeka skog och äng, / hon låter det fara för vinden.’ Again, Wivallius shows a comparatively repetitious concern for plants and agriculture: ‘Lät Skogen stå grän, lät Jorden få Frucht, / See till at intet oss trängier, / Lät flächta een skön, och härligh een Lucht, / Aff Skogar, Åkrar, och Ángier.’ Again to cite the Psalter: ‘Du låter gräs wära för boskapen och säd menniskomen till nytto; att du skal låta komma bröd utaf jordene.’ (Psalms 104:14) Lagerkvist's final reference to the earthly landscape is ‘Nu smeker det barnen i deras säng / och de gamla på skrovliga kinden.’ In referring to old and young, Lagerkvist includes all categories of mankind. Wivallius also refers to ‘Folck stora coh små’, but in addition gives special attention to individual classes and professions of people. As it is written in the Bible: ‘Lofwer HERren på jordene / … / I konungar på jordene och all folk; Förstar, och alle domare på jordene. Ynglingar och jungfruar: de gamle med de unga.’ (Psalms 148:7, 11-12) Thus, not only does Lagerkvist's poem take place at what is timewise the peak of blessedness in religious symbolism, ie early spring at dawn, but the landscape is littered with traditional signs of God's bounty. Nevertheless, there is nothing reassuring about the scene.
In the Old Testament, the powers of nature are administered by an omniscient God whose attentions are focused upon the earth, Wivallius alternately addresses God and the sun, confusing them at times. God in the poem sends good or bad weather to reward or punish mankind. The sun, ‘tu fattigh mans Wän’, orbits around the earth. In Lagerkvist's poem, there is no God, but a distinctly anthropomorphic sun whose hair happens to fall upon the earth as she is dreaming among the billions of her sister stars. One of the main differences between the deities of the Old Testament and Wivallius' poem, and the sun in Lagerkvist's poem can be summed up by the change in the meaning of the verb ‘att låta’. In both the Bible and ‘Klage-Wijsa’, ‘att låta’ is used in the sense of ‘to cause’ with the distinct suggestion of intention and volition behind it, ie ‘Du låter gräs wära för boskapen och säd menniskomen till nytto’, or ‘Lät skogen stå grön, lät jorden få frukt’. Yet, in Lagerkvist's poem, when as the sun is loosening her hair, ‘Hon låter det smeka skog och äng, / hon låter det fara för vinden’, ‘att låta’ is used in the sense of ‘to let’ or ‘to allow’ with the distinct sense of absentmindedness behind it.
In Lagerkvist's poem, Wivallius' prayer formula ‘Lät …’ is answered; however, the glorious day pictured in ‘Nu löser solen sitt blonda hår’ is not a reward sent to man by a divine being, but an accident, resulting from the laws of astronomy and physics.
The universe in Lagerkvist's poem is radically different from that of the Bible, the Swedish psalm book, or ‘Klage-Wijsa’ in that man is no longer at the centre of it. Lagerkvist's universe is Copernican rather than Ptolemic. Ptolemy's idea that the earth is the centre of the universe has been a tenacious one, particularly in religious literature. Vestiges of Ptolemy's view of the universe can still be found in modern language in terms like ‘sunrise’ and ‘sunset’. The sun does not rise; the earth turns. Also, in religious literature, stars are mostly considered as decorative points of light in the sky and certainly not as the astronomer's supernovas which in size might exceed the mass of the sun by several times. It is this type of star ‘som tusenfalt / förstora det levandes gåta’. When the full implications of the Copernican system are accepted, then mankind is demoted from the focal point of the universe to a race of insignificant beings infesting a minor planet.
Peter Hallberg has conducted a thorough study of the star symbolism in Pär Lagerkvist's poetry. Hallberg interprets the high frequency of the star symbolism in Lagerkvist's poems as a symptom of idealism: ‘Stjärnhimlen har traditionellt en stark ställning i mer eller mindre idealistisk poesi som symbol för det översinnliga, för en bättre och beständigare tillvaro än vår jordiska.’27 What Hallberg seems to have overlooked in his study is that Lagerkvist's attitude towards his central symbols vacillates, a symptom of his vacillating belief in a better existence than the earthly. As was observed earlier, the themes of longing, frustrated longing, anguish, and resignation to the earthly shift and alternate throughout Lagerkvist's poetic production. Stars fulfil the idealistic function ascribed to them by Hallberg where Lagerkvist is in his longing through anguish phases. However, in his mood of resignation to the earthly, stars become stripped of their idealistic value and are presented in their astronomical reality. Such is the case in ‘Nu löser solen sitt blonda hår.’ Using traditional religious formulas, Lagerkvist paints an idyllic landscape which loses its usual comforting potential when set against the background of an infinitely large universe.
Throughout Pär Lagerkvist's poetic works, one may easily find numerous stylistic formulas borrowed from religious literature including meter, language, symbolism, and literary gestures such as self-effacement before God or calling for God's attention. Lagerkvist has also adopted the biblical practice of using vague and complicated symbolism which addresses itself to feelings and defies precise definition. Some of Lagerkvist's poems appear to emulate religious genres such as the song of lament, the song of praise, and the song of nature's rebirth. Yet, Lagerkvist's use of these religious literary formulas far from parrots their use in the religious texts. These motifs and techniques are removed from works of unquestioning faith in God and placed in a new context of doubt and vacillating belief. The traditional religious elements are played against dissonant or contrastive modern devices. The religious formulas are often stripped of their spiritual significance, and placed in the material world.
Notes
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Fredrik Böök, ‘Rytmiska påverkningar’, Svenska studier i litteraturvetenskap (Stockholm, 1913), p. 439.
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Elin Lagerkvist, ed. Pär Lagerkvist Antecknat: Ur efterlämnade dagböcker och anteckningar (Stockholm: Bonniers, 1977), p. 11.
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From Pär Lagerkvist's student paper on the Swedish psalm book preserved in the Lagerkvist archives of Kungliga Biblioteket in Stockholm.
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Urpu-Liisa Karahka, Jaget och ismerna: Studier i Pär Lagerkvists estetiska teori och lyriska praktik t.o.m. 1916 (Stockholm: Bo Cavefors Bokförlag, 1978), p. 128.
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Pär Lagerkvist, Ordkonst och bildkonst: Om modärn skönlitteraturs dekadens. Om den modärna konstens vitalitet (Stockholm, 1913), p. 40. Cited by Sten Malmström, Stil och vers i svensk 1900-talspoesi (Stockholm: Norstedts, 1971), p. 104; and Sven Linnèr, Pär Lagerkvists livstro (Stockholm: Bonniers, 1961), p. 32.
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Pär Lagerkvist, Dikter (Stockholm: Bonniers, 1965), p. 56. All further references to this work will appear in the text.
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Den svenska psalmboken (Stockholm: Svenska Kyrkans Diakonistyrelses Bokförlag, 1913). References to this work will appear in the text.
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Malmström, p. 107.
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All biblical citations are taken from Karl XII's Bible. Chapter and verse references will appear in the text.
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Erik Hörnström, ‘Lagerkvist: Ångest, ångest är min arvedel’, Lyrisk tidsspegel, ed. Carl-Erik af Geijerstam, et al. (Lund: Gleerups, 1948), p. 6.
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Ibid., p. 61.
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Kjell Espmark, Själen i bild: En huvudlinje i modern svensk poesi (Stockholm: P. A. Norstedt & Söners Förlag, 1977), p. 54.
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Sven Linnèr, ‘En dödsberedelse’, Svenska diktanalyser, ed. Magnus von Platen (Stockholm: Prisma, 1967), p. 147.
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Ingrid Schöier, Som i Aftonland: Studier kring temata, motiv och metod i Pär Lagerkvists sista diktsamling (Stockholm, 1981), pp. 155-165.
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Alf Ahlberg, Troende utan tro: Religiösa sökare i vår tid (Stockholm: Natur och Kultur, 1966), p. 111.
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Thorkild Bjørnvig, ‘Pär Lagerkvist og den religiøse ateisme’, Heretica, 5, No. 1 (1952), p. 34.
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Hörnström, ‘Lagerkvist: Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’, Lyrisk tidsspegel, p. 67.
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Gunnel Malmström, Menneskehjertets verden: Hovedmotiv i Pär Lagerkvists diktning (Oslo: Gyldendal Norsk Forlag, 1970), pp. 179-227.
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Thure Stenström, ‘Guds död—ett motiv hos några svenska lyriker’, Norsk litteraer årbok (Oslo, 1975), p. 18.
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Hörnström, ‘Lagerkvist: Lyft dig på blodiga vingar’, p. 67.
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Sven Linnèr, Livsförsoning och idyll: En studie i rikssvensk litteratur 1915-1925 (Uppsala, 1954), p. 16.
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Erik Hörnström, Pär Lagerkvist från den röda tiden till det eviga leendet (Stockholm: Bonniers, 1946), p. 114.
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Linnèr, Livsförsoning och idyll, p. 17.
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Matti Mörtberg, ‘Naturens pånyttfödelse: En studie i reformations-tidens visor och i Wivallius' vårskildringar’, Forum theologicum, 11 (1954), p. 43.
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Ibid., p. 50.
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Lars Wivallius, ‘Klage-Wijsa, Öfwer thenna Torra och kalla Wåhr’, Sveriges litteratur, vol. II, ed. Carl Ivar Ståhle et al. (Stockholm: Bonniers, 1965).
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Peter Hallberg, ‘Stjärnsymboliken i Pär Lagerkvist lyrik: Ett stycke svensk idealism’, Göteborgsstudier i litteraturhistoria tillägnade Sverker Ek (Göteborg: Wettergren & Kerbers, 1954), p. 352.
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