H.D., Feminism, and the Modern Spiritualist Experience

Sanna Melin Schyllert H.D., Feminism, and the Modern Spiritualist Experience H.D.’s interest in spiritualism is intimately described in The Sword Went Out to Sea (2007) (hereafter referred to as Sword) and Majic Ring (2009), two semi-autobiographical accounts, told by H.D.’s alter ego, Delia Alton. The books describe the narrator's attendance at séances as well as visions of her past lives. Through the creation of a fictional world that allows dichotomies to be overcome and women’s voices to be heard, H.D. uses these two novels to present a way of working through both the emotional turmoil of otherworldly experiences and the mental strain brought on by war. In this paper, I aim to show how H.D.’s texts bring forward spiritualism as a route to female emancipation and self-realisation. In order to do this, I will look specifically at two of H.D.’s narratological tools that emerge in the novels. Firstly, the use of repetition will be considered, both as a way of highlighting certain episodes and as a device for re-writing the story (or stories) continuously. Secondly, shifts between first and third person narration will be looked at, as the mode of narration in Majic Ring and Sword changes at intervals. The narrative voice, which belongs to Delia, takes on both first and third person narration. Further on, it will be argued that this is a way for Delia to move out of herself and feel part of a greater context and historical continuity. The novels, written in 1946-47 and 1943-44 respectively, are filled with events and persons that have real counterparts in the life of H.D.; the author herself even wrote a ‘key’ in a letter to Norman Holmes Pearson in which she identified the characters in Sword (Sword xliii). As there are clear parallels between the texts and H.D.’s life, much of the previous scholarship on these books has focussed on their autobiographical elements. A few points will be brought up to highlight this dimension, but this paper will mainly focus on the portrayal of Delia’s visions and communication with spirits, which means that the works will primarily be considered as fiction here. As has already been mentioned, there is a repetitive element in both books. As Delia tries to describe her experiences, she continually re-tells certain parts of the story. The repeated stories are not always rendered in exactly the same words from one time to the next; in fact, they can even be conflicting versions of the same event. The narrator herself seems to be dealing with an undefined number of variants or different interpretations of the story that she is telling. In Majic Ring, Delia recollects a 1920 boat trip in the Mediterranean, on which she remembers seeing a school of dolphins. Her companions, however, later remark that there were no dolphins around at the time. Delia asks herself: '[W]here had I been in clock-time, while I was standing, with no suspicion on my own part, out-of-clock-time, watching those heraldic dolphins?' (Majic Ring 99) She cannot tell for sure, but suspects that she has travelled briefly to 1 Sanna Melin Schyllert some other plane of existence or another point in time, where she has seen the dolphins before. These animals, moreover, are described as 'heraldic' because of their alleged symbolic connection with the Oracle of Delphi. That connection suggests that the event of seeing the dolphins is not connected with the story of being on a boat trip in 1920, but might in actual fact belong to another historical time and place, that of archaic Greece. It is not only events that are repeated, but words and phrases as well. There are frequent signposts in the text, consisting of a word or phrase previously used, which tell the reader that the narrative has returned to a specific event. Viewed from the reader’s perspective, it seems as though repetition of certain words or sentences is necessary to convey the spiritualist experience accurately. The texts are dense and frequently jump from one time and place to another; the repetitions are therefore needed to bring a sense of continuity to the reader. Naturally, the repeated words and sentences also come to be read as imparting a special significance to the story. For instance, Ben Manisi’s comments ‘Inspiration was crucified’ and ‘This is you speaking, Delia’ return again and again, as does his exhortation to Delia from the spirits to ‘finish up some Indian work’ (Majic Ring 118; 119; 120). These repeated statements function as much needed signposts for the reader. But these repetitions do not only send signals to the reader; they bear significance for the writer as well, as we will see later on. Delia not only blurs the boundaries between different versions of a story, or those between stories that are different altogether, but she also appears to be unsure of the border between dream and reality. Some of her experiences appear on both planes and do not seem less real to her in dreams than they are when she is awake. This evokes an age-old philosophical problem, exemplified by the story of the Chinese thinker Zhuangzi, who, after dreaming that he was a butterfly, pondered whether he was actually a butterfly dreaming he was a man or vice versa. Delia never seems to bother, however, with these sorts of riddles; it does not matter if what we call reality is the dream or not. This can be seen for instance in a section of Sword (Wintersleep), which recounts an event that happens first in a dream and then in reality, with some minor changes in detail: I am the same person that I was in the dream. The room is the same in all particulars, except that the French windows are wide open and the lilac is fresh-gathered from the garden, or brought up before breakfast, from the market. (...) The first time I saw the room empty was in a dream, and the second time was when I went in, this morning after breakfast. (Sword 108) 2 Sanna Melin Schyllert Delia's focus on this seemingly everyday event of walking into a room is due to the table that has been placed in it, a table that carries significance for her through its former owner William Morris, its decoration on the top that consists of 'a series of star-patterns' (Sword 108), and its usefulness when contacting the spirit world. The dream and reality are not differentiated in any other way than the two details mentioned: the French windows and the lilacs. She comments on the fact that her dream has been realised in a waking state, and goes on to say that the event confirms her belief in the after-life: 'The dream (...) re-stated the possibility of life continuing along normal lines in sleep and so, we may affirm, by the same laws of being, after death.' (Sword 108) In other words, it is of no importance for Delia to distinguish between dream and reality, because they are both part of her life and notion of what reality is. For Delia, dreams and the after-life may take place on another plane of existence, but they are just as real as anything that goes on in the here and now. As history exists as a part of reality, but at another point on the time-axis, dreams and life after death are also real, even though we are removed from them in a normal, waking state. Delia’s replication of dream events in the physical world is another form of repetition going on in these texts. If the writing (or narrating) of these texts is viewed as a purifying or healing exercise for the writer (or narrator), as has been previously suggested by scholars regarding Sword, then repetition plays a different role.1 The repeated writing of a certain word or sentence can be a way to work through the experiences of a particular event, or perhaps a tool through which the writer tries to find the deeper psychological implications of her expression. H.D., having engaged in ‘writing cures’ before the war, believed that Sword was a beneficial way for her to reconstruct her own personal story (Robinson 345).2 It is evident, then, that the believed healing process of writing is one reason why this text was produced at all. Delia’s cure is also embedded in the text of Sword, as the narrative moves from the cause of her illness through a healing procession of past lives. Lord Howell’s letters indicate decreasing interest in Delia’s psychic work, and he gives her the definitive brush-off on the final occasion when they meet to have tea at Delia’s. She interprets his words as meaning that she is a ‘being of a lower order’ (Sword 32), although he explicitly says that she is not. He does imply, however, that her relayed messages from the beyond must be false. Delia questions whether there is a link of some kind between Howell’s snub and her nervous breakdown at the end of the war. In the very first pages of Sword, she reflects on this issue: ‘His last letter had or 1 It is suggested by the editors of Sword in its introduction (Sword xv) that the writing of the text should be considered a healing process for H.D. However, Lheisa Dustin argues in her 2012 article that H.D.’s recovery was impeded by her writing. 2 This is also brought up in, among other works, Dustin 396, Henke 164, and Nyberg 150f. 3 Sanna Melin Schyllert had not precipitated my illness.’ (Sword 6) There is an obvious parallel in H.D.’s life, as she repeatedly contacted Lord Hugh Dowding, a lauded Air Chief Marshal of the RAF and fellow spiritualist, to discuss her mediumistic concerns. It is believed that Dowding’s lack of response to H.D. was a contributing factor to her nervous breakdown in 1946, together with the trauma of living in London during the war years (Robinson 340-2). Delia’s need for Lord Howell’s approval can be read as leading to her subsequent descent into incoherence, mirroring H.D.’s collapse around the time when Sword was written. Delia’s cure, then, consists of her meeting or assuming the shape of a number of historical or mythical female personas, among others, the Oracle at Delphi and Queen Elizabeth I. Delia takes control through the representation of roles imbued with great power, both those of spiritual and political leaders. Making the protagonist assume a role of authority affords her the confidence and legitimacy that she has been denied in the 20th century setting. As has been pointed out earlier, the narrative frequently sways between first and third person narration. This of course leads to insecurity in the reader as to who is really telling the story, but it also creates space for the narrator. In both Majic Ring and Sword, the first person narrator, the ‘I’, refers to herself in the third person as ‘she’ or ‘Delia’. Instances of this can be found in countless places in both texts (for example Majic Ring 3-4, 13, 15, 18-27, 113; Sword 151, 173-5), particularly in the first part of Majic Ring where the séances with Ben Manisi are recounted. The ‘she’ and ‘I’ of the novels cannot always be separated and defined, which allows the narrator to move seamlessly between the subjective and objective positions. The shifts in narrative voice also provide the narrator with more freedom to move in and out of various personas and characters. Through this mode of narration, it is made clear that Delia is not just a figure in London in the 1940s, but also an aristocrat in medieval France, a young actor in Elizabethan England and a queen consort in ancient Rome, to mention but a few. Sometimes the narrative ‘I’ follows these personas and sometimes they are described in the third person; as before, the narrator can drift between being subject and object. Both Majic Ring and Sword draw upon an anthropological theory, popular in the 19th and early 20th century, which states that archaic civilisations were matriarchal, that is, ruled by women. These women were often believed to be female high priestesses, who claimed control of their respective societies through religious power.3 As Delia Alton engages with beings such as the earth goddess Ida, the Cretan serpent-goddess and the North American water-spirit Minne-ha-ha, she makes it clear that these figures of female power were much more powerful 3 See for example the works of J.J. Bachofen. 4 Sanna Melin Schyllert in the distant past than they are now. Majic Ring explains the exclusion of female spiritual powers by stating that there are two kinds of wisdom, and that the world is not balanced between them in our age: 'The soul is split. (...) The wisdom of Aristotle, Hippocrates, Euclid still lived in the new West, after the wisdom of Delphi and the tripod of the Pythian were a myth.' We are told that science and spirituality, the two parts of the collective human soul, are unequivocally separated in contemporary Western society. The narrator's prophecy is that '[t]he soul (...) must come together again or the human race is doomed.' (Majic Ring 154) Having encountered certain reservations regarding her own spiritualist activities, it is hardly any wonder that H.D. lets her mouthpiece point to the necessity of combining knowledge of the physical with knowledge of the spiritual. As Elizabeth Anderson comments in a review from 2010, ‘Majic Ring argues that science and mysticism need not be estranged, and that their harmony is crucial for addressing the problems of a world at war.’ (‘Majic Ring’ 302) H.D. herself refers to this knowledge as ‘the Great Mother’s store of wisdom’ (qtd. in Majic Ring xxxviii). This suggests that she uses the idea of an ancient, mystical matriarchy to assign power to herself and her occult practices. Her Moravian heritage also plays a part here, as its foundational beliefs include a feminine Holy Spirit and women’s right to preach. Clearly, religion and female power were closely intertwined in H.D.’s mind. The most obvious symbol of power in the novels, though less obviously a symbol of spirituality, is Queen Elizabeth I. She is only fleetingly depicted and appears ambiguous and indefinite in character. She is, however, directly compared to two legendary Greek queens: Hecuba and Clytemnestra (Sword 205). This is unsurprising, as the books are heavily laden with Greek myth, but it can also point to an explanation of the Queen's indefinable persona. For example, Clytemnestra is both described as passive and powerful, depending on the source; in some versions of her legend, she is more active in the plotting against and murder of her husband, whereas in others, she is portrayed as more of a victim. This sort of contradiction brought on by conflicting versions of the story is of course true of many ancient myths, and it is also true of the story in both Sword and Majic Ring. Incidents are told and retold with slight variations that become bigger variations the more times the tale is told. The same story is conveyed in both books, but it is endlessly varied, as the narrative mode is endlessly varied. H.D.'s experimentation with retold narrative in Sword and Majic Ring may be indicative of the thinking behind her re-telling of Helen of Troy's story in the long poem Helen in Egypt, written in the 1950s. In order to create a feminist version of Helen's legend, H.D. re-wrote the tale, originally told by Homer, and thereby gave Helen a voice of her own. In writing and rewriting the story of Delia Alton, a spiritualist writer living in war-torn London, H.D. made 5 Sanna Melin Schyllert Delia into a successful medium and prophetess bearing important messages for future generations. As the narrator, her mobility between variations of personas and storylines is used to show both that she is able to wield power over her own narrative, and that her power is gained and lost dynamically as she moves between being the narrative’s subject and object. In conclusion, Majic Ring and Sword are expressions of a desire to find a new way for modernity, one in which women and spirituality have acquired a higher, more respectable status in society and culture. Through the multifaceted voices of Delia Alton and her alter egos, H.D. makes the point that the human race is in need of a renewed sense of being, which is located between the polarised opposites that have influenced Western society for so long. Male and female, body and spirit, science and religion, are dichotomies that must be transcended in order for the world to move into the new, modern era. 6 Sanna Melin Schyllert Works Cited Anderson, Elizabeth. "Majic Ring. By H.D. (writing As Delia Alton). Edited By Demetres P. Tryphonopoulos. The Mystery. By H.D. Edited By Jane Augustine." Literature & Theology 24.3 (2010): 301–304. Bachofen, J.J. Myth, Religion and Mother Right. Selected Writings. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1967. Doolittle, Hilda. The Sword Went Out to Sea: (Synthesis of a Dream), by Delia Alton. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2007. ---. Majic Ring. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2009. Dustin, Lheisa. ‘"Now It Will Soon Be Over": Apocalyptic Redemption in The Sword Went Out to Sea.’ Genre 45, no. 3 (2012): 395-422. Henke, Suzette A. ‘Modernism and trauma’ in Linett, Maren Tova. The Cambridge Companion to Modernist Women Writers. Cambridge: Cambridge University, 2010. Nyberg, Lennart. Bodies of Poems: Graphic Poetics in a Historical Perspective. Bern: Peter Lang, 2009. Robinson, Janice S. H.D.: The Life and Work of an American Poet. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1982. 7