Poetics: Help or Hindrance to Poetry?

Smith’s work (“An Introduction to the Sanskrit Court Epic”) is based on Ratnakara’s 9th century Kashmiri Saivite mahakavya (or perhaps MAHAmahakavya at 4351 verses divided into 50 cants) “Haravijaya”, which, I was interested to learn means ‘Siva’s Victory’. Contrary to the scorn of Richard Schmidt and A.B. Keith for the work as a whole, Smith aligns himself more with the traditional Indian view, holding great esteem for the work. The central thrust of his argument seems to be somehow related to the notion that the mahakavyas are unique, worthy of being treated individually, independent of poetic theory. Smith writes (on chapter two I believe) that one of his major aims it to demonstrate that mahakavya “has its own inner logic as an art form, but this was not perceived by the poeticians, who, were above all concerned with their pet theories” (40). I am not able to track the logic of his arguement with only the excerpts presented here, but there is MUCH in these 150 some odd pages to discuss. Given space constraints, let me highlight a three areas which stood out.

My first topic of interest is why, as Smith asserts, Sanskrit poetics serves “not a help but a hindrance” for studying Sanskrit poetry? If I understand his general argument correctly, then this claim would be central to his work. Yet I am not sure I agree with it. Smith claims that scholars such as Ingalls and Warder have unduly emphasized Sanskrit poeticians, which, ironically, hinders the study of Sanskrit poetry. It seems to me that Ananadavardhana and the like we engaged, primarily, in descriptive rather than prescriptive projects. They aimed to analyze the features of art, but the prerequisites thereof. If a poem has vyanjana, it is not good, but not merely because it lacks vyanjana. All poems which are good incorporate vjanjana, so vjanjana is a symptom of the work’s aesthetics merit, not a cause thereto. With this in mind, poets don’t need to confirm to poetics in order to create poetry. Otherwise Brahma would have revealed rasa theory to VŒlm´ki, instead of allowing him to become inspired. After all, it is the poets who created and employed alamkaras, while the poeticians merely analysed and catalogued them. The same may be said of emotional response: they arise from the art, not the art theory. Indeed “the poet alone is creator in the boundless realm of poetry”, but as Smith would like to argue, the poetician becomes the legislator in this world. But why do we need to live by the laws of poetics?

Clearly poetic ornamentation does not equate poetic artistry. For example, verses such as Yogeshwara’s (50) may indeed come across as “frigid” (Ingall’s description, 51) because of their mechanical quality. This contrived, organized, logical approach may well fit into alamkara principles, but those principles are, in my opinion, more observations of the features of good poetry. Good poetry is well endowed with alamkaras, but an abundance of alamkaras does not necessitate the presence of good poetry. However, the grander issue is that ‘good poetry’ is a matter of taste. Smith happens to highly appreciate Yogeshwara’s verse. But whether or not the poem is ‘good’, it is evident that Ingall’s preocuption with analysis and technique prevents his enjoyment of the poem. He approaches it in the mode of the poetician, not that of the poet, nor that of the sensitive listener. But this is not a necessity. Smith, for example, is able to appreciate the work in its own right. Similarly, he is able to appreciate the object of this study - RatnŒkara’s “Haravijaya” - despite unfavorable western reception it has known to this point. Poetics does not necessarily need to be a hindrance to poetry. One need merely be conscious of the mode in which one aims to receive the art – as the informed critic, or as an audience. Surely audiences may be critical, but most students don’t watch movies with notepads in hand and theories in mind. We can talk about this in class.

My second point of interest, somewhat tangential, relates to notions of authorship within this tradition. Jacobi argues that much of RatnŒkara’s work is borrowed from previous authors. We have learned in looking at the discourse of poetics that Indian authors make concerted efforts to refer to, build upon, and acknowledge their predecessors. The intellectual climate appears to be on where lineage, tradition, and predecessors are greatly esteemed. Anandavardhana, for example, presents his work on aesthetics not so much as a break from the existing intellectual tradition, but as an embellishment thereof. So, I wonder to what extent poetic composition would deviate from this. Given the haziness of authorship that generally pervades the tradition (it seems next to impossible to ascertain who writes what when), I fail to see why RatnŒkara would have any anxiety about being deemed a plagiarist. The whole concept of plagiarism appears to be somewhat of an imposition. For example, as Wendy Doninger (who, by the way, happens to be my academic great grandmother!) writes in her introductory essay to her own translation of “The laws of Manu” (Penguin, 1991) “it has been estimated that between a third and a half of Manu is in the “Mahabharata”, though it is not certain which was the source and which was the borrower” (xvii). So, who is the plagiarist, Vyasa, or Manu, or both? Jacobi may very well offically qualify as a vacuum-dwelling, "originality-monger" (and no, I refuse to offer a citation for the term originality monger – who cares if it’s my idea or not??). Along these lines, Smith himself tells us (Ch 2) that the three oldest Sanskrit poeticians construct their own examples of poetry, and when they do quote versus, they neglect to attribute these versus to any particular author since “the author and his book are of too little moment to merit mention”. For some reason, this isn’t the impression I got. I was sure that much of the poetry in Abhivanagupta’s treatise was long-established, accepted, “free-floating” verse whose authorship was unknown, not undermined.

Thirdly, regarding the extensive analysis in Chapter 8, “The Gods and Goddessess”, admittedly most of it went over my head with respect to the overarching theme. I am hoping we could clarify it in class. Smith seems to be arguing that, as he states in the very onset of the chapter, “kavya often adopts a neutral attitude towards the gods” (225). But I am unclear as to what his neutrality refers to. What, exactly, would positions ‘a’ and ‘b’ be with respect to this purported neutrality towards the gods? Does he refer to whether kavya regards them as benefic versus malefic? Does he refer to the god’s fallibility versus infallibility? The first example he gives (from Kalidasa) seems to focus on the gruesomeness of Siva (splattered sculls and whatnot on p 226), but the second one emphasizes Siva’s ‘imagining’ versus his ‘perceiving. He then goes on to give poetic example emphasizing Siva’s propensity for lovemaking and his ambiguous lineage. I am not sure how these relate to his the argument in thus chapter, nor to any larger argument the book purports to uphold. Smith later describes Ratnakara’s neutrality when he reduces Siva to “colour alone” (231). He makes several references to poetic passages descriving Shiva’s poisionous neck, third eye, his affinity for dance, his role as destroyer, his acetic prowess, etc. – but even by chapter’s end, I really don’t understand Smiths’ particular employment of the term “neutrality”. Someone, please define this term for me!