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Learning
to Love the Fens:
An Introduction to Romanticism,
Ecology, and Pedagogy
Bridget
Keegan, Creighton University
James C.
McKusick, University of Montana
.
. . what we
have loved,
Others
will love, and we will teach
them how
William
Wordsworth, The
Prelude, 1850 (14:
448-9)
-
As
teachers,
we always
have designs
upon our students,
whether it
is a set of
skills we
want them
to master,
a body of
content we
believe they
should assimilate,
or, in some
cases, values
that we wish
to cultivate
and nurture
in them. It
is usually
quite simple
for us to
articulate what those
designs are.
We want our
students to
write well
and to know
historical
context. And
often too,
though usually
implicitly,
we want them
to love what
we have loved. Most
of us teach
literature
because we
believe that
it has inherent
value. We
believe that
poetry matters,
that it is
relevant,
and that such
value and
relevance
is transcendent
regardless
of the immediate
material conditions
in which we
teach and
students learn.
- At
the end of The
Prelude, Wordsworth
confidently
states that
we will teach
others to
love what
we have
loved. Yet
in this
poem about
the poet's
own education
and vocational
training,
he neglects
to tell
us precisely
how to do
this. Lacking
Wordsworth's
confidence,
many of
us in literature
and humanities
departments
may often
wonder
how best
to convince
students
that literature
matters
at all—and
what's
more,
that poetry
from what
students
consider
a "remote" historical
era matters.
How effective
are we
at communicating
the value
of literature
to students,
particularly
when
students
are more
and more
likely
to understand
any subject's
value
in more
crudely
economic
terms? To
put
it more
explicitly
in terms
of the
core
issues
of this
special
number
of Romantic
Circles
Pedagogy
Commons: When
students
are
more
worried
about
getting
a
decent
job
after
graduation
(often
in
order
to
be
able
to
pay
back
loans
taken
out
to
cover
their
rapidly
rising
tuitions),
what
chance
do
teachers
have
of
convincing
them
that
an
aesthetic
engagement
with
nature,
either
directly
or
through
literature,
is
worth
their
time?
How
best
to
respond,
when
students,
along
with
Mary
Oliver,
ask: "Is
a
poem,
which
after
all
is
only
a
literary
construct
within
an
imagined
framework,
a
reasonable
way
to
understand
the
world?" (103).
-
Of
course it
is, Oliver
goes on to
reply. But why is
it? And how is
it a reasonable
way to understand
the world? In
the prospectus
for the Romantic
Circles Pedagogy
Commons Series, editor
Laura Mandell
sketches the
goals for
these online
essays and
resources—to
emphasize
not only the "what" of
our teaching,
but also the "how." Although
the essays
represented
here emphasize
and illustrate
the "how" of
improving
students'
skills at
explicating
a poem or
helping them
to understand
Romanticism's
contribution
to the history
of modern
environmentalism,
it is around
the issue
of values
that we as
editors feel
that these
essays collectively
raise their
most important
points. These
essays will
help us as
teachers to
demonstrate
that a poem
is "a
reasonable
way to understand
the world." And
they may also
help us to
teach students
to love what
we have loved.
-
The
essays in
this collection
offer varied
and complementary
approaches
to the issue
of values
in the teaching
of Romantic
poetry and
prose. Gary
Harrison,
for example,
in his course
on "Romanticism,
Nature, Ecology" engages
students in
a fundamental
interrogation
of the present
value and
relevance
of Romantic-era
texts. In
Harrison's
course, students
are encouraged
to examine "how
such literature
shapes environmental
consciousness
and action,
and how Romantic
poetry engages
urgent issues
that face
us today about
the relationship
between human
consciousness
and nature." Toni
Wein likewise
seeks to engage
her students
in a thorough
scrutiny of
personal values
from the first
day of class,
when they
receive a
homework assignment
asking them
to write a
descriptive
essay on their "sacred
place." Wein
elucidates
the underlying
purpose of
such an assignment: "I
wanted the
students to
feel doubly
immersed or
invested,
both in the
perspective
we would bring
to bear and
in the generous
enthusiasm
Romantic writers
expressed
for their
home lands."
-
While
it may be
unfashionable
or politically
tendentious
to talk about
values in
education,
we would argue
that the discussion
of values
has taken
on a greater
urgency in
the current
educational
climate in
the United
States, Canada,
and the U.K.
This is due
to the fact
that, increasingly,
the values
that universities—from
students to
the highest-level
administrators—seem
to care most
about are
primarily
economic values.
As James Engell
and Anthony
Dangerfield
argue, in
their remarkable
book Saving
Higher Education
in the Age
of Money, "The
fastest-expanding
and often
strongest
motivation
in American
higher education
is now money.
While other
aims and functions
certainly
persist, they
are increasingly
eclipsed by
the ultimate
goal of wealth
accumulation" (2).
In short,
money has
become an
end in itself
in education,
and not simply
a means to
an end. Engell
and Dangerfield's
book is an
erudite call
to action,
one that provides
an important
history and
set of recommendations
for teachers
and scholars
who wish to
protect the
values traditionally
celebrated
in education
(such as becoming
a good and
informed citizen
of the world)
against the
increasing
pressure to
measure value
in strictly
financial
terms.
-
For
those of
us in the
academy who
feel that
what David
Abram has
called the "more
than human
world" is
valuable
as more
than a resource
to be bought,
sold, harvested,
mined,
tapped,
consolidated,
ploughed
under, reclaimed,
or developed,
Engell
and Dangerfield's
book is
instructive
reading,
making a
case for
all of
those in
the humanities,
and not
simply those
teaching
and studying
environmentally,
to reclaim
the discourse
on values.
Those of
us who teach
and study
environmental
literature
are, in
some respects,
in a privileged
position
to demonstrate
the practical
as well
as more
abstract
non-financial
values
and importance
of literature.
Many of
the essays
included
in this
collection
make this
point either
implicitly
or explicitly.
In being
alert to
the environmental
dimensions
of the
texts we
teach and
study,
we are able
to show
that literature
does have
a
very clear
and direct
connection
to "the
real world"—and
that connection
is more
than nominal
or spiritual.
As Lawrence
Buell has
written
in the Preface
to his
recent manifesto, The
Future
of Environmental
Criticism, the
role of
the humanities
is crucial
to understanding
and resolving
our current
environmental
crises:
For
technological
breakthroughs,
legislative
reforms, and
paper covenants
about environmental
welfare to
take effect,
or even to
be generated
in the first
place, requires
a climate
of transformed
environmental
values, perception,
and will.
To that end,
the power
of story,
image, and
artistic performance
and the resources
of aesthetics,
ethics, and
cultural theory
are crucial.
(vi)
Buell's
book provides
a solid overview
of the history
of the many
strands of
the "movement" of
environmental
criticism
to date, and
these different
strands are
illustrated
by the various
approaches
and tactics
demonstrated
in the following
essays. Buell
concludes
by offering
a cautious "prophecy" about
where environmental
approaches
to literary
studies may
go during
the remainder
of the 21st
century. As
he rightly
notes, the
future of
environmental
criticism—and
perhaps even
the future
of the environment
writ large—depends
on our success
as teachers
of environmental
literature
and environmental
approaches
to texts.
-
All
of the essays
in this collection
are closely
engaged with
practical
aspects of
teaching environmental
literature
of the Romantic
period, and
they should
prove useful
to both new
and experienced
teachers in
a variety
of classroom
settings.
Tilar Mazzeo
examines the
implications
of teaching
Romanticism
outside the
disciplinary
boundaries
of English
studies; Timothy
Ziegenhagen
investigates
how Romantic
poetry can
be used to
frame the
contemporary
debate between
developers,
conservationists,
and preservationists;
and William
Stroup challenges
his students
to explore
what he calls
the "field
marks" of
poetry. Several
of these essays
describe innovative
ways to engage
students in
the experience
of reading
Romanticism;
thus Timothy
Brownlow seeks
to create
a more invigorating
classroom
environment
through a
restoration
of orality
and a revival
of sensuousness,
while Thomas
Hothem urges
his students
to scrutinize
the topographical
subtexts and
hidden agendas
of popular
anthologies
of Romanticism.
Scott Hess
encourages
his students
to broaden
their conception
of what "nature" means,
both in Romantic
poetry and
in their own
personal experience: "Nature,
I want to
teach them,
is not something
we simply
return to
or escape
to; it is
the total
network of
relationships
within which
we must actively
negotiate
our places,
and it includes
the human
as well as
the non-human." Both
inside and
outside of
the classroom,
teachers of
Romantic-era
environmental
literature
are finding
new ways to
engage their
students in
discovering
and responding
to real-world
environmental
issues.
-
The
question remains,
however: what
is it in particular
about teaching
Romantic-period
writers that
is essential
to the goal
of instilling
the values
of environmental
awareness
or even environmental
activism? How
can teachers
help students
to appreciate
the value
of literature
over and against—or
at least perhaps
alongside
of—the
very real
demands they
may feel to
justify their
studies and
interests
in financial
terms? To
begin to answer
that question,
one can immediately
point to the
fact that
many Romantic
writers believed,
with passion,
sincerity,
and sometimes
with righteous
self-delusion,
that words
(as much as
cold hard
cash) can
and do change
the world.
Percy Bysshe
Shelley memorably
called upon
the West Wind
to "Scatter,
as from an
unextinguished
hearth / Ashes
and sparks,
my words among
mankind!" ("Ode
to the West
Wind," lines
66-67).
-
Thus,
perhaps the
first step
might be to
remind students
about the
power of words.
All too often,
when they
first encounter
Romantic writing,
and in particular
Romantic nature
writing, students
struggle with
it because
they feel
it is "just
description"—just
so many words
piled on words.
Thus, it is
often one
of our first
aims when
we teach Romantic
nature writing
to demonstrate
that what
a poet chooses
to describe,
and how s/he
describes
it, inflects
that description
with an ethical
and political
relevance,
particularly
with respect
to environmental
ethics and
politics.
-
For
both of the
editors of
this collection,
the poetry
of John Clare
has been a
typical starting
point to help
students see
that representation,
particularly
when it is
a representation
of nature,
is never a
transparent
act. There
is often a
very important
story being
told in what
is described
and in how
it is described.
In one class,
for instance,
we might start
with one of
Clare's later
poems, "The
Fens." The
poem begins
conventionally
enough, with
the poet describing
what he sees
while "Wandering
by the rivers
edge." The
poet fondly
evokes the
play of the
waterfowl
and the movement
of willows
in a way that
students might
initially
take to be "just
description." However,
it is useful
to talk with
students about
the fact that
Clare's perspective
in the poem
is not the
typically
elevated vantage
point, looking
down over
what he describes
(as was conventional
in poetry
like that
of James Thomson,
one of Clare's
most significant
poetic precursors).
Clare here
and elsewhere
puts himself "on
the same level" as
what he describes,
and students
might be asked
to consider
to what extent
that stance
might be connected
to Clare's
social position.
They might
discuss how
such a gesture
suggests an
ethical or
political
statement
about the
relationship
between the
human and
the natural,
challenging
the more hierarchical
and anthropocentric
conceptions
common in
Clare's day.
-
However,
in teaching
this poem
in particular,
it is important
to remind
students that
Clare is representing
a wetland
environment.
Thus, there
is an entirely
practical
and literal
reason why
he doesn't "elevate" himself
in his looking
at the environment.
In the relentlessly
flat landscape
of the fens,
there simply
aren't any
hills or elevated
places from
which he could
have taken
in the scene:
But
here my fancys
moods admire
The
naked levels till they tire
Nor
een a molehill cushion meets
To
rest on when I want a seat.
(65-8)
At
this point
it is useful
to remind
students
that in Clare's
time as in
our own,
wetlands were
seen as essentially "unproductive" and
even threatening
or physically
dangerous
environments
(for instance,
causing
the "fen
ague" or
malaria
from which
both Clare
and his
family
suffered).
In fact,
Clare is
one of
the very
first
poets in
the Western
literary
tradition
to depict
wetlands
in a positive
light.
Students
may already
be aware
that the
archetypal
monsters
of English
literature,
Grendel
and his
mother,
are creatures
of the
swamps.
Likewise,
Bunyan's
Slough
of Despond
uses the
wetlands
as a site
of allegorical
moral peril.
To demonstrate
the novelty
of Clare's
description,
it is useful
to tell
students
about the
history
of wetland
drainage
in East
Anglia,
which began
on a grand
scale in
the seventeenth
century,
and also
to show
students
selections
from Arthur
Young's
writing
about the
very same
environments
that Clare
represents.
Young comments
pithily
about the
draining
and
enclosing
of the fens,
in The
Agriculture
of the County
of Lincoln (1799): "So
wild a
country
nurses up
a race
of people
as wild
as the
fen; and
thus
the morals
and eternal
welfare
of numbers
are hazarded
or ruined
for want
of an inclosure" (qtd.
in Darby,
154).
Once
drained,
reclaimed,
and redeemed,
the end
result
was "Health
improved,
morals
corrected
and the
community
enriched" (qtd
in Darby,
142).
-
For
Clare, however,
as is evident
in the second
half of "The
Fens," the
draining of
the fens for
profit prior
to enclosing
them is devastating
rather than
productive,
and thus the
poem illustrates
how economic
value has
become preeminent,
usurping all
other sets
of values,
including
those derived
from an aesthetic
engagement
with nature.
As Clare writes:
Green
paddocks have
but little
charms
With
gain the merchandise of farms
And
muse and marvel where we may
Gain
mars the landscape every day
(81-4)
Although
this landscape
is one that
challenges
the conventional
pastoral aesthetics,
it is nonetheless
still one
whose unconventional
beauty transcends
the reductive
calculus of
those seeking
only gain. From
there, it
may be possible
to engage
students more
directly in
discussing
the ways in
which poetry,
literature
and aesthetic
engagement
are still
devalued by
a society
driven even
more than
in Clare's
day by demands
for "productivity." One
might even
then talk
with students
about how
their own
education,
structured
to make them
(fiscally) "productive" individuals,
does not hold
a love of
nature in
and for itself—let
alone poetry
about such
a thing—in
very high
regard.
-
In
raising the
issue of
the place
of nature,
and of poetry
about nature,
in the present
educational
system, one
might bring
up Clare's
own relationship
to his education,
both formal
and informal.
Students
will likely
be curious
about Clare's
style and
diction (which
is more or
less apparent
depending
on which edition
of Clare's
poetry is
being used—and
students
could be
directed
to Simon
Kövesi's excellent
John
Clare website with
information
on the controversy).
It is useful
to point
out to students
that Clare's
language,
as much
as the subject
he elects
to describe,
also challenges
conventional
notions
of natural
description.
Clare's
diction reflects
his status
as a laboring-class
provincial
subject.
As students
are quick
to realize,
Clare's
experiences
as someone
who was
forced to
work the
land will
be distinct
from the
experiences
of those
who view
the landscape
simply for
pleasure. His "day
job" affects
his relationship
to nature
and how
he wrote
about nature.
One might
then ask
students
to consider
how the
demands
placed
upon them
to enter
certain
acceptable "day
jobs" affect
their
own ability
to think
about
their
place
in the
more-than-human
world
and about
their
ability
to enjoy
nature
and the
poetry
that
celebrates
it.
-
Clare's
poems can
teach us how
to love landscapes
like the fens.
If it is possible
to do so without
seeming to
be profiting
from disaster,
discussing
with students
the issue
of learning
how to love
wetlands is
something
that, in the
aftermath
of Hurricane
Katrina, would
perhaps also
show students
how Romantic
nature poetry
is connected
to the real
world, and
to their world.
Many scientists
believe that
had the wetlands
around New
Orleans been
better preserved,
they would
have served
as a protective
barrier, absorbing
the water
that ended
up flooding the
city. Recent
articles found
at news websites
for MSNBC, the
BBC,
and the Guardian make
this connection
clear.
-
However,
on the Gulf
Coast and
in Florida,
as well as
in other places
around the
country the
economically-driven
desire to
make wetland
areas or other "waste" spaces "productive" has
destroyed
important
ecosystems
(although
today it is
more likely
by turning
them into
strip malls
than into
arable fields).
How much money—how
many lives—might
have been
saved if the
long-term
value—both
economic and
aesthetic—of
the wetlands
of Louisiana
had been understood? How
many times
will we have
to be shown
the unsustainable
practice of
making calculations
based on only
short-term
monetary gains?
-
Even
in the face
of seemingly
intractable
circumstances,
Clare writes
in protest
against enclosure,
giving voice
to neglected
landscapes
and endangered
creatures.
While Clare's
poetry did
not eradicate
the greed
of the enclosers,
or halt the "progress" of
agribusiness,
his poetry
remains an
act of preservation
and positive
protest, commemorating
long-vanished
vistas and
offering a
warning to
respect the
more-than-human
world that
is still worthy
of being heard
today. His
work is a
hortatory
meditation
on the value
of nature
and of poetry
about nature.
One can thus
suggest that
Clare's poetry
is just description—description
that aspires
to a higher
level of justice,
rather than
just or merely
description.
Clare's words,
like the words
of other writers
about nature,
are explicitly
connected
to "the
real world" in
their effort
to depict
it. And these
words can
remind us
what in this
real world
should be
of real and
lasting value
to us, even
in the face
of the preponderance
of the culture
of money that
surrounds
us and our
students.
Works
Cited
Abram,
David. The
Spell of the
Sensuous. New
York:
Vintage,
1996.
Buell,
Lawrence. The
Future of Environmental
Criticism: Environmental
Crisis and Literary
Imagination. Malden,
MA: Blackwell,
2005.
Clare,
John. "The
Fens" in John
Clare: Major
Works. Eds.
Eric Robinson
and David Powell.
Oxford: Oxford
UP, 2004.
Darby,
H.C. The
Draining of
the Fens. Cambridge:
Cambridge UP,
1956.
Engell,
James and Anthony
Dangerfield. Saving
Higher Education
in the Age of
Money. Charlottesville:
University of
Virginia P,
2005.
Kövesi,
Simon. The
John Clare
Page.
20 April 2006. <http://www.johnclare.info/>
Oliver,
Mary. Rules
for the Dance:
A Handbook for
Writing and
Reading Metrical
Verse. Boston:
Houghton Mifflin,
1998.
Shelley,
Percy. "Ode
to the West
Wind," in Shelley:
Poetical Works.
Ed. Thomas Hutchinson.
London and New
York: Oxford
University Press,
1970.
Wordsworth,
William. The
Prelude. Eds.
Jonathan
Wordsworth,
M.H. Abrams
and Stephen
Gill. New
York: Norton,
1979.
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