Constructing Progress: “Men of Genius” in the Victorian Periodical by The_Legacy (ED) Lyrics
The concept of “progress” has repeatedly shown itself to be an inherently conflicting one. Especially during the Victorian period, the triumph of some—be they common citizens of a conquering nation or a handful of wealthy industrialists—included the necessary and hypothetically justified, by ideology, setback of others. There was (and, one might add, is) never merely one side to any event or innovation: among the cheers for railroads and telegraphs, there were the doubts of William Wordsworth; while revolutions in other parts of the world were lauded, particularly those in Italy, any uprising within Great Britain or its colonies was to be forcefully quenched. In this context, the new and popular form of the periodical played a central role in establishing or upholding conventions. Its tessellated—and tessellating—nature meant that it could assemble and juxtapose various texts in a broad demonstration of contemporary interests. Such demonstrations implicitly functioned as guidances too, for pieces of writing would gain meanings in relation not only to each other, but to illustrations, typography and intended audiences as well—among other factors. In the case of Matthew Arnold's “Men of Genius,” the title already points to two ideologically laden concepts, the significances of which can be construed via interaction with the medium it first appeared in.
The simpler of the title's nouns is “Men,” but, since it is not repeated as such, the reader is left wondering to whom it actually refers and, more importantly, why it does so. As the OED clarifies, “[m]an was considered until the 20th cent[ury] to include women by implication, though referring primarily to males.”
[Footnote: Additionally, “man” must always refer to a human being and can therefore not designate the angelic servants of the Lord in the poem. “man, n.1 (and int.).” The Oxford English Dictionary. 3rd ed. 2000. Print.]
At the mention of “Us,” though; those “who with banners unfurl'd / Fight life's many-chanc'd fight / Madly below, in the plain” (Arnold 4-6), the expression of patriotism and violence may hint at a focus on males. This entire issue of The Cornhill Magazine, in fact, is concerned with widely varying subjects (from biographies of “The Four [King] Georges” to physiology) which can all be said, stereotypically, to be chiefly of interest to men (as opposed to magazines such as The Female Spectator, appealing, as the name implies, to a different audience and therefore concentrating on distinct subject matter). Essays on adulteration and how it might be restricted scientifically, though published anonymously, reveal at least a male perspective if not a male writer, as the first one (pp. 86-96) links the practice to Adam being persuaded by “his deluded Eve” (87).
Alongside Arnold, only William Makepeace Thackeray (editor of The Cornhill Magazine) and Elizabeth Barrett Browning openly signed their contributions to this issue; when looking at how women were included in this periodical, it is indeed the latter name that draws most attention. Her “A Musical Instrument” (pp. 84-85) contains no accessible show of feminism, unlike a considerable portion of her oeuvre, but is concerned with Pan almost mockingly “Making a poet out of a man” (39). Although “man” in this case certainly includes women by implication (after all, Barrett Browning is manifesting herself as an acknowledged poet while writing these lines), it is ultimately the function of “poet” that prevails—not the double purpose of “Mother and Poet” (1861). All in all, then, it would appear that a male tradition dominates this periodical as it generally did the Victorian era; women are either independent from it, in their own publications deemed of lesser literary quality, or inscribed within it, like Barrett Browning, to be surrounded by and therefore adapted to this hierarchy. As a consequence, a reading of “Men of Genius” as centered on the bravely battling male figure (under the supervision of the greatest male figure in Western traditions, i.e. “the Lord of the world” [1]) becomes all the more likely.
What “Genius” precisely points too is more obscure, particularly since it already possesses a doubleness within the poem itself. The people who “fight / Madly below, in the plain” (5-6) are far from elevated: not only is their manner vicious, but additionally they clash with “banners unfurl'd” (4), that is to say, flags, representing invented nations headed by people instead of divine rule. Moreover, to fight “in the plain,” besides assigning an open space to the conflict where no shelter from massacre can be found and opposing parties engage each other head-on, seems to allude to another meaning of the word “plain:” common, lacking distinction—vulgar, even, and therefore strongly opposed to the sphere of Heaven. The fight being “many-chanc'd” means it is out of men's control, and thus no true “Genius” can be remarked on their behalf; if anything, they are frenzied pawns. The Lord's “own” (7) are otherwise unidentified, presumably angelic figures who can move freely between the realms of Heaven and Earth and impact the latter, falling outside the category of “Men.” They might express “Genius” on other occasions, but are in the poem portrayed as rather ineffective victims: “[b]affled, bewilder'd” (20) “prisoners” (21); “hardly shall one” (25) ever return. In light of these sacrifices made by God's “willing servants” (17), the warring men are no longer simply disregarding his will, but physically attacking it. Hence their acts distance them even further from “Genius,” through which it appears that the term is used ironically—arguably cynically, misanthropically.
However, this interpretation can be profoundly altered by taking Thackeray's “Vanitas Vanitatum” into account (pp. 59-60). As the periodical's editor, it would have been his choice to include “Men of Genius,” while his own addition can be said to elaborate on the human struggles mentioned by Arnold. “Mataiotes Mataioteton” (4) is the Greek equivalent of the poem's Latin title, meaning “Vanity of Vanities;” as it is taken from the Biblical book of Ecclesiastes, it establishes a link to religious thought as well. “Vanitas Vanitatum” presents an enumeration of superficial achievements, of deluded follies, of “how low men were, and how they rise!” (25) as well as of the opposite. It is thereby particularly straightforward in mocking human standards: what is deemed grandness and splendor by others, the speaker dubs “laughable, pathetic jumble!” (28). In such an all-enveloping degradation of human action, shaped from a verse of the Hebrew Bible, the grace of God becomes all the greater by contrast as perhaps the only asset worth living for. This could reveal an essential aspect of “Men of Genius:” the “Men” are certainly not embodying “Genius,” but the reverse may be true. If only a higher power can be genial—as “Vanitas Vanitatum” implies—then, for Arnold, God represents “Genius” and the “Men” are his instead, with “of” preceding the source or the possessor rather than that which is possessed. Yet the “Men” cannot fulfill the potential granted by being “of Genius;” they had been given the freedom to prove themselves (God and his servants initially supervised without interfering: “Too long let we them groan” [10]), but eventually plunged into severe violence—against each other, and the Lord's “own.” From this point of view, the title is not ironic but an affirmation of humankind's latent aptitude, undone by their pursuit of “Vanitas Vanitatum” and the neglect of spirituality it brings about.
Reading “Men of Genius” in relation to the issue it was published in can thus reveal its main preoccupation with men (or women adapting to male standards) while Arnold simultaneously appears to be criticizing these men's lack of moral and religious considerations, in spite of their higher potential. The (scientific) progress expressed by other works in The Cornhill Magazine is hereby cautioned to entail a spiritual sense of responsibility and virtue if it is to avoid becoming another manifestation of the “Vanity of Vanities.”
The simpler of the title's nouns is “Men,” but, since it is not repeated as such, the reader is left wondering to whom it actually refers and, more importantly, why it does so. As the OED clarifies, “[m]an was considered until the 20th cent[ury] to include women by implication, though referring primarily to males.”
[Footnote: Additionally, “man” must always refer to a human being and can therefore not designate the angelic servants of the Lord in the poem. “man, n.1 (and int.).” The Oxford English Dictionary. 3rd ed. 2000. Print.]
At the mention of “Us,” though; those “who with banners unfurl'd / Fight life's many-chanc'd fight / Madly below, in the plain” (Arnold 4-6), the expression of patriotism and violence may hint at a focus on males. This entire issue of The Cornhill Magazine, in fact, is concerned with widely varying subjects (from biographies of “The Four [King] Georges” to physiology) which can all be said, stereotypically, to be chiefly of interest to men (as opposed to magazines such as The Female Spectator, appealing, as the name implies, to a different audience and therefore concentrating on distinct subject matter). Essays on adulteration and how it might be restricted scientifically, though published anonymously, reveal at least a male perspective if not a male writer, as the first one (pp. 86-96) links the practice to Adam being persuaded by “his deluded Eve” (87).
Alongside Arnold, only William Makepeace Thackeray (editor of The Cornhill Magazine) and Elizabeth Barrett Browning openly signed their contributions to this issue; when looking at how women were included in this periodical, it is indeed the latter name that draws most attention. Her “A Musical Instrument” (pp. 84-85) contains no accessible show of feminism, unlike a considerable portion of her oeuvre, but is concerned with Pan almost mockingly “Making a poet out of a man” (39). Although “man” in this case certainly includes women by implication (after all, Barrett Browning is manifesting herself as an acknowledged poet while writing these lines), it is ultimately the function of “poet” that prevails—not the double purpose of “Mother and Poet” (1861). All in all, then, it would appear that a male tradition dominates this periodical as it generally did the Victorian era; women are either independent from it, in their own publications deemed of lesser literary quality, or inscribed within it, like Barrett Browning, to be surrounded by and therefore adapted to this hierarchy. As a consequence, a reading of “Men of Genius” as centered on the bravely battling male figure (under the supervision of the greatest male figure in Western traditions, i.e. “the Lord of the world” [1]) becomes all the more likely.
What “Genius” precisely points too is more obscure, particularly since it already possesses a doubleness within the poem itself. The people who “fight / Madly below, in the plain” (5-6) are far from elevated: not only is their manner vicious, but additionally they clash with “banners unfurl'd” (4), that is to say, flags, representing invented nations headed by people instead of divine rule. Moreover, to fight “in the plain,” besides assigning an open space to the conflict where no shelter from massacre can be found and opposing parties engage each other head-on, seems to allude to another meaning of the word “plain:” common, lacking distinction—vulgar, even, and therefore strongly opposed to the sphere of Heaven. The fight being “many-chanc'd” means it is out of men's control, and thus no true “Genius” can be remarked on their behalf; if anything, they are frenzied pawns. The Lord's “own” (7) are otherwise unidentified, presumably angelic figures who can move freely between the realms of Heaven and Earth and impact the latter, falling outside the category of “Men.” They might express “Genius” on other occasions, but are in the poem portrayed as rather ineffective victims: “[b]affled, bewilder'd” (20) “prisoners” (21); “hardly shall one” (25) ever return. In light of these sacrifices made by God's “willing servants” (17), the warring men are no longer simply disregarding his will, but physically attacking it. Hence their acts distance them even further from “Genius,” through which it appears that the term is used ironically—arguably cynically, misanthropically.
However, this interpretation can be profoundly altered by taking Thackeray's “Vanitas Vanitatum” into account (pp. 59-60). As the periodical's editor, it would have been his choice to include “Men of Genius,” while his own addition can be said to elaborate on the human struggles mentioned by Arnold. “Mataiotes Mataioteton” (4) is the Greek equivalent of the poem's Latin title, meaning “Vanity of Vanities;” as it is taken from the Biblical book of Ecclesiastes, it establishes a link to religious thought as well. “Vanitas Vanitatum” presents an enumeration of superficial achievements, of deluded follies, of “how low men were, and how they rise!” (25) as well as of the opposite. It is thereby particularly straightforward in mocking human standards: what is deemed grandness and splendor by others, the speaker dubs “laughable, pathetic jumble!” (28). In such an all-enveloping degradation of human action, shaped from a verse of the Hebrew Bible, the grace of God becomes all the greater by contrast as perhaps the only asset worth living for. This could reveal an essential aspect of “Men of Genius:” the “Men” are certainly not embodying “Genius,” but the reverse may be true. If only a higher power can be genial—as “Vanitas Vanitatum” implies—then, for Arnold, God represents “Genius” and the “Men” are his instead, with “of” preceding the source or the possessor rather than that which is possessed. Yet the “Men” cannot fulfill the potential granted by being “of Genius;” they had been given the freedom to prove themselves (God and his servants initially supervised without interfering: “Too long let we them groan” [10]), but eventually plunged into severe violence—against each other, and the Lord's “own.” From this point of view, the title is not ironic but an affirmation of humankind's latent aptitude, undone by their pursuit of “Vanitas Vanitatum” and the neglect of spirituality it brings about.
Reading “Men of Genius” in relation to the issue it was published in can thus reveal its main preoccupation with men (or women adapting to male standards) while Arnold simultaneously appears to be criticizing these men's lack of moral and religious considerations, in spite of their higher potential. The (scientific) progress expressed by other works in The Cornhill Magazine is hereby cautioned to entail a spiritual sense of responsibility and virtue if it is to avoid becoming another manifestation of the “Vanity of Vanities.”