on Brighton beach, he had listened continually to the waves. That is not in itself unusual for a child: before Paul was (in either sense) conceived, Emily Shore was taken to the seaside at the age of twelve and found it fascinating:
|
| | None of us have ever seen the sea before, and therefore I at least was much delighted with it. It is a great pleasure to me to sit on the sands and watch the boats. I think it is also extremely amusing to watch a wave rolling on, gradually increasing in bulk, and at last breaking into foam. 8
|
We could not, even in this slightly archaic sense, use the word "amusing" to describe Paul's obsession with the waves; he uses them simply as a trigger for his morbid fantasy: "'I want to know what it says,' he answered, looking steadily in her face. 'The sea, Floy, what is it that it keeps on saying?"' (chapter 8). Whereas Emily stared intently at the wave that so interested her, Paul stares at his sister, thinking only of his question. And in the end, of course, he learns the answer.
|
| | Whereto answering, the sea, Delaying not, hurrying not, Whisper'd me through the night, and very plainly before daybreak, Lisp'd to me the low and delicious word death, And again death, death, death, death, Hissing melodious, neither like the bird nor like my arous'd child's heart, But edging near as privately for me rustling at my feet, Creeping thence steadily up to my ears and laving me softly all over, Death, death, death, death, death. 9
|
Whitman's poem is almost contemporary with Dombey and Son, and its effect is both like and unlike Paul's death. Suppose we inserted those repetitions into Dickens's prose: "What were the wild waves saying? Death, death, death, death, death." We could hardly resist the temptation to read them with a weary sigh (Yes, yes, I see ), not with the soothing restfulness they carry in the poem. Only in a lyric poem, where we are offered a single consciousness unsullied by other voices, can the lulling rhythm produce this kind of auto-hypnosis, this Romantic death wish. In the novel there are other consciousnesses besides Paul, and the reader stands outside looking on: this eliminates the hypnosis and enables the pathos. Pity is only possible when we are detached from the pathetic object.
|
|