Skip to main content

Grandeur of the dooms

John Keats by William Hilton [Wikipedia]


One of the poems included in CBSE’s class 12 English literature is an extract from Keats’ Endymion. A question that has come to me again and again from students as well as teachers is: What does “the grandeur of the dooms…” mean? It is a line that has perplexed me too. I have been amused by the kind of interpretations given in the guidebooks for students. Quite many of these books interpret the word ‘dooms’ to mean the Doomsday. Look at the following answer given in one such guidebook made available online by a well-known educational establishment. 

That is very amusing considering the fact that Keats was an agnostic, if not a confirmed atheist. Keats would never accept a God who would come riding a majestic cloud on the day of the Last Judgment to apportion the good and the evil souls to Heaven and Hell. Evil is an integral part of life, Keats knew too well. No human can avoid evil any more than “a rose can avoid a blighting wind.” How do you believe in a benevolent Supreme Being who cares for his creation in a world where evil is predominant?

If Keats cared to establish a religion, its deity would have been Beauty. Didn’t he tell us that “Beauty is truth, truth beauty”? He even went to the extent of saying that we don’t need to know anything more than that. For Keats, beauty is divine. Beauty is the ultimate answer to all the mysteries and riddles of life.

The extract given in class 12 by CBSE is a paean to beauty. “A thing of beauty is a joy forever,” it begins. The first few lines describe the blessings of beauty. Beauty is a special place (bower) prepared for us by nature. It brings us peace and relaxation, good sleep and sweet dreams, good health and blissful happiness. Beauty brings us endless joy. Nothing else can do that. Not religion, not gods, let alone other ephemeral things.

In order to enjoy the blessings of beauty, we bind ourselves to the earth with a band of flowers which we “wreath” every day. There is much sadness on earth, however. All that sadness is a creation of human beings. Despondence, lack of noble people, gloom, evils that we perpetrate… We create all that sadness. And that sadness puts us on a quest for happiness!

Then the poet goes on to give us a list of things that bring happiness. All those things belong to nature. Sun, moon, daffodils, streams, trees… And finally some human-made beauty too: literature – “All lovely tales that we have heard or read”. It is here that “the grandeur of the dooms” appears.

Look at the lines:

And such too is the grandeur of the dooms

We have imagined for the mighty dead…

The ‘mighty dead’ are our past heroes about whom we weave beautiful stories in our poems and epics and other works of literature. These works of literature, along with the numerous beautiful things in nature, become “An endless fountain of immortal drink,” the fountain of joy for the questing human soul. This beauty is immortal, divine - coming from "heaven's brink". It will go on without end, without death. Nature will keep giving us beauty and generations of humans will keep writing good literature.

So what does the phrase ‘grandeur of the dooms’ mean? It means the glory of the deaths that we have imagined for our bygone heroes. That is, ‘doom’ translates as ‘death’. Our literatures have imagined the glory in the deaths of those heroes and made those deaths beautiful.

Death cannot be glorious or beautiful. But art has the power to render them majestic. “Et tu, Brute? Then fall, Caesar.” How beautiful that death is! Who but Shakespeare could have made it so beautiful? Look at Othello’s final moments with Desdemona: “Put out the light, then put out the light.” The final cry of Conrad’s Kurtz – “The horror! The horror!” – has the same sublime touch though that character was not exactly heroic.

Keats died at the beautiful age of 25. Too early for any human being to die. He had achieved remarkable success in that very short lifespan. Not as a surgeon that he had educated himself to be but as the High Priest of Beauty. Though ‘success’ came to him posthumously. In his lifetime very few people appreciated his poems. Better known poets like Byron ridiculed Keats’ poetry as onanism, intellectual masturbation.

Keats died a sad death. Can death be anything but sad? But in Keats’ case, it was the tragic premature death of a questing genius who had so much to contribute to literature. Some Shakespeare may yet be born to convert that tragedy into the “grandeur of a doom…”

Keats' tombstone
"Here lies one whose name was writ in water."

x

 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

Everything is Politics

Politics begins to contaminate everything like an epidemic when ideology dies. Death of ideology is the most glaring fault line on the rock of present Indian democracy. Before the present regime took charge of the country, political parties were driven by certain underlying ideologies though corruption was on the rise from Indira Gandhi’s time onwards. Mahatma Gandhi’s ideology was rooted in nonviolence. Nothing could shake the Mahatma’s faith in that ideal. Nehru was a staunch secularist who longed to make India a nation of rational people who will reap the abundant benefits proffered by science and technology. Even the violent left parties had the ideal of socialism to guide them. The most heartless political theory of globalisation was driven by the ideology of wealth-creation for all. When there is no ideology whatever, politics of the foulest kind begins to corrode the very soul of the nation. And that is precisely what is happening to present India. Everything is politics

The Little Girl

The Little Girl is a short story by Katherine Mansfield given in the class 9 English course of NCERT. Maggie gave an assignment to her students based on the story and one of her students, Athena Baby Sabu, presented a brilliant job. She converted the story into a delightful comic strip. Mansfield tells the story of Kezia who is the eponymous little girl. Kezia is scared of her father who wields a lot of control on the entire family. She is punished severely for an unwitting mistake which makes her even more scared of her father. Her grandmother is fond of her and is her emotional succour. The grandmother is away from home one day with Kezia's mother who is hospitalised. Kezia gets her usual nightmare and is terrified. There is no one at home to console her except her father from whom she does not expect any consolation. But the father rises to the occasion and lets the little girl sleep beside him that night. She rests her head on her father's chest and can feel his heart

Mango Trees and Cats

Appu and Dessie, two of our cats, love to sleep under the two mango trees in front of our house these days. During the daytime, that is, when the temperature threatens to brush 40 degrees Celsius. The shade beneath the mango trees remains a cool 28 degrees or so. Mango trees have this tremendous cooling effect. When I constructed the house, the area in front had no touch of greenery as you can see in the pic below.  Now the same area, which was totally arid then, looks like what's below:  Appu and Dessie find their bower in that coolness.  I wanted to have a lot of colours around my house. I tried growing all sorts of flower plants and failed rather miserably. The climate changes are beyond the plants’ tolerance levels. Moreover, all sorts of insects and pests come from nowhere and damage the plants. Crotons survive and even thrive. I haven’t given up hope with the others yet. There are a few adeniums, rhoeos, ixoras, zinnias and so on growing in the pots. They are trying their

Yesterday

With students of Carmel Margaret, are you grieving / Over Goldengrove unleaving…? It was one of my first days in the eleventh class of Carmel Public School in Kerala, the last school of my teaching career. One girl, whose name was not Margaret, was in the class looking extremely melancholy. I had noticed her for a few days. I didn’t know how to put the matter over to her. I had already told the students that a smiling face was a rule in the English class. Since Margaret didn’t comply, I chose to drag Hopkins in. I replaced the name of Margaret with the girl’s actual name, however, when I quoted the lines. Margaret is a little girl in the Hopkins poem. Looking at autumn’s falling leaves, Margaret is saddened by the fact of life’s inevitable degeneration. The leaves have to turn yellow and eventually fall. And decay. The poet tells her that she has no choice but accept certain inevitabilities of life. Sorrow is our legacy, Margaret , I said to Margaret’s alter ego in my class. Let