Criticism
Perkins is a professor of American and English literature and film. In this essay, she examines Jonson's craftsmanship and the way he reworked borrowed material in the poem.
In "Jonson's Poetry, Prose and Criticism," J. B. Bamborough writes that while Jonson placed a high value on poetry, he regarded it as "essentially an Art, rather than as the expression of personality or a way of conveying a unique perception of Truth. Skill was the quality most inescapably demanded of the poet." Bamborough says that Jonson makes this point when he writes "For to Nature, Exercise. Imitation, and Studie, Art must be added, to make all these perfect." Jonson's neoclassical position states that writing well necessitates first mastering the subject and then examining how other writers have expressed it. Thus, according to Bamborough, "Originality and Inspiration, as the Romantics understood them, do not, or need not, enter into this."
Jonson's policy of studying other writers' work led him to incorporate some of that work into his own. G. A. E. Parfitt, in "The Nature of Translation in Ben Jonson's Poetry," notes that Jonson's practice of borrowing material from other sources and incorporating it into his own work was "not theoretically a departure from ordinary renaissance principles: it conformed to standard educational doctrine and, viewed broadly, it is an activity similar to that of many other authors of the period." Parfitt states that "only in Jonson does the use of classical material seem a natural and essential aspect of the poet's creativity." He adds that this use appears "to have become a central habit of his mind when that mind was at its most creative." Jonson's creative reworking of borrowed materials is well illustrated in the evolution of his poem "Song: To Celia."
In his study of Jonson, John Addington Symonds comments that Jonson's "wholesale and indiscriminate translation[s]" of other writers' work was "managed with admirable freedom" as Jonson made the work his own. Symonds notes, "This kind of looting from classical treasuries of wit and wisdom was accounted no robbery in that age" and was, in fact, praised by Jonson's contemporaries. Symonds quotes John Dryden, who, while admitting that there were "few serious thoughts which are new" in Jonson's poetry, praises the poet's willingness "to give place to the classics in all things." Dryden claims that Jonson "invades authors like a monarch; and what would be theft in other poets is only victory in him."
Bamborough quotes Jonson's comments on the assimilation process: those who study "the best authors" will discover "somewhat of them in themselves, and in the expression of their minds, even when they feele it not, be able to utter something like theirs, which hath an Authoritie above their owne." Parfitt concludes that Jonson's "familiarity with 'the best authors' made the dividing line between original and borrowed material disappear stylistically." In "Song: To Celia," Jonson crafts a poem that "utter[s] something" from one of these authors, but he makes it uniquely his own.
Scholars have agreed that Jonson used certain letters of Philostratos, a philosopher of the third century A.D., as the source material for "Song: To Celia." Parfitt argues that in the poem, Jonson "takes over the bantering tone of the original and something of Philostratos's ingenuity but shows no sign of subservience to his material." Jonson retains but fine-tunes the classical style of the original, as expressed in the poem's economy, carefully structured statement, and sense of harmony.
J. Gwyn Griffiths, in her article on Philostratos's letters, cites translations from the excerpts that Jonson borrowed for "Song: To Celia." The first stanza of...
(This entire section contains 1540 words.)
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the poem is a reworking of two letters, numbered XXXII and XXXIII. In the first letter, Philostratos writes "I, as soon as I see thee, am thirsty, and stand unwilling to drink, though holding the cup; I do not lift the cup to my lips, but I know that I am drinking thee." In the second letter, he writes
Drink to me only with thine eyes, which even Zeus tasted, and then procured for himself a handsome cup-bearer. Or if thou wilt, do not rashly use up the wine, but pour in some water only, and putting the cup to thy lips, fill it with kisses, and so give it to the needy. For no one is so unloving as to desire the gift of Dionysos after the vines of Aphrodite.
Jonson takes the first phrase of the second letter, along with some of the ideas of both, and crafts a self-contained unit in the first stanza of his poem. Here Jonson presents a much clearer and more lyrical depiction of the situation: the speaker's request to his lady that she give him an expression of her love. In the letter, the speaker dilutes his main focus by including the figures of Zeus, a "handsome" cup bearer, Dionysos, and Aphrodite. Jonson instead keeps our attention on the speaker's request, which expresses his own feelings for his lady. He evokes the name of only one god and only in a passing reference to the god's nectar, employing it as a clever expression of his lady's charms.
Jonson also establishes a clear structure that is absent in the letters. Marshall Van Deusen, in his article on the poem for Essays in Criticism, points out the logical connection between the statements in the first stanza. He notes that "as the lady's kiss in the cup satisfied physical thirst better than wine, so her nectar should satisfy the thirst of the soul better than Jove's drink could."
The relationship between the speaker and thirst is not made clear in the first letter, when he declares that he becomes thirsty when he sees his lady. It is also not evident how the essence of the lady appears in the cup. The second letter adds some clarification, but together the two pieces are disjointed. Jonson elucidates the connection between lady and cup in the first four lines of the poem and extends the image into the next four, where the speaker uses it to offer a high compliment to his lady.
Jonson's speaker asserts a calm assurance in his monologue to his lady through his sparse, precise imagery and avoidance of elevated language. Bamborough places Jonson alongside Sidney and other writers who insisted on "'dignifying the vernacular' [everyday speech] by 'purifying' it, freeing it from obscurity, rusticity, clumsiness and affectation, whether this last took the form of . . . importation from ancient or modern languages." Jonson, Bamborough insists, believed that English should be "transformed into an expressive and worthy literary language by revealing its true genius, not by divorcing it from the actual speech of men."
The poem moves between the abstract and the concrete, smoothly integrating in the first stanza the dominant images of eyes, wine, kisses, and the act of drinking into an expression of the speaker's love for his lady. The harmonious interplay of the imagery is reinforced with the musicality of the lyric in its alliteration and structured rhyme scheme. Energy is generated through the rhythm of the lines as well as the exactness of the imagery, aided by Jonson's use of active verbs like "drink," "rise," "sup," and "breathe."
The poem's short length and tight structure provide an appropriate venue for intimate thoughts; single, simple ideas; and extended metaphors. The second stanza complements the first with its extension of the focus on the lady's extraordinary powers. In the first, she transforms kisses into nectar, and, in the second, she transfers her essence to a rosy wreath, granting it immortality.
In the second stanza, Jonson translates Philostratos's Letters II and XLVI. In the first letter, the speaker writes, "I have sent thee a wreath of roses, not so much honouring thee, though that too was my intent, as bestowing a favour upon the roses themselves, that they might not be withered." In the second, he writes, "If thou wouldst gratify thy lover, send back the remnants of the roses, no longer smelling of themselves only, but also of thee."
The speaker includes a clumsy contradiction in the last line of the second letter when he insists that the roses no longer smell of themselves alone but "also" of thee. "Also" should have been "only" if the intention was to declare that the lady transformed the roses. Jonson makes that intention clear in his last stanza and reveals how the transformation is made. The second stanza focuses on the lady's power over nature, much in the same way that the first suggested her power over her lover. In the first, she quenches her lover's "thirst"; in the second, she grants immortality to the wreath through her breath, which is not identified in the letter. This more active connection between lady and wreath suggests a heightening of her power; it also adds to the harmonious structure of the lyric.
An examination of the development of "Song: To Celia" centers on the poet as craftsman, providing evidence to support Jonson's reputation as a master of his art. In this carefully designed lyric, Jonson has wedded a classical sensibility with his unique voice, producing one of the finest love poems of the age.
Source: Wendy Perkins, Critical Essay on "Song: To Celia," in Poetry for Students, Thomson Gale, 2006.
