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How To Do Things With Poems Performativi
How To Do Things With Poems Performativi
MARIA BOLETSI
The theory of the performative – in its initial version by J.L. Austin and in its poststructuralist revi-
sions – allows us to explore speech acts within C.P. Cavafy’s poem as well as how his poems themselves
can function as performatives. Performativity in these poems functions along four interrelated planes of
performance, all of which are central to Cavafy’s poetry: the erotic, the theatrical/public, the historical,
and the linguistic. Recurring instances of “infelicitous” performatives in Cavafy’s poems, especially unkept
promises, reveal the critical and creative potential of this infelicity. The repeated failures and communi-
cative gaps in the poems nevertheless work towards a notion of a felicitous poetic event, in which failure is
transformed into a critical act and a motivating force for practices of constant revaluation.
1 For all quotations from Cavafy’s poems in this article I will be using the translations by Edmund
Keeley and Philip Sherrard.
arcadia Band 41 (2006) Heft 2 DOI 10.1515/ARCA.2006.025
Art, which promises to fulfill his desire to act and live, “completing life” in this
way.
These two states marked Cavafy’s life and poetry. “Outside his poems,” to
quote a famous statement by George Seferis, “Cavafy does not exist” (Seferis
362, my translation). Cavafy led a rather passive life, caught up in the dull routine
of a middle-class bureaucrat with a sexually deviant private life, which he had to
hide and, as the years went by, give up and hold on to only as a memory. In the
words of Marguerite Yourcenar, his existence was “limited to the routine of of-
fice and café, library and low tavern, confined in space to a monotonous itiner-
ary through one city, extraordinarily free in time” (Yourcenar 3). Being a Greek
homosexual poet in Alexandria (Egypt) and having spent many years of his
childhood in England and Istanbul, are facts that also marked his complex posi-
tion in-between worlds and the impossibility of fitting completely in any of
them. Between Europe and Africa, between the (upper) middle – class circles
and the lower classes he came in contact with in cafés and infamous taverns, be-
tween conventions and socially forbidden desires, between the private and the
public, appearances and suppressed thoughts, Cavafy was feeling more and more
trapped, as the walls that he describes in his poem were getting thicker and
higher, closing him off from the world. The more the walls were isolating him,
the more he was submitting to Art, an art “almost imperceptibly completing
life,” if not replacing it. His poetry was more than a pastime or a side activity; it
was also more than a way of recording experiences, thoughts and memories or
representing his worldview. In it he wished to find a power greater than that of
representation or description: the power to act and create. As if to make up for
the suspension of action in his life, he turned to poetry and tried to live and act
through it. A poem such as “I’ve brought to Art” suggests the performative
power he wished for his poetry, a power that would transform poetic language
into action and even resurrect or give life to figures of the imagination.
The potential that Cavafy saw in (poetic) language in the beginning of the
20th century, namely to act rather than just describe, state or represent, has pre-
occupied theorists and philosophers, especially since J.L. Austin introduced his
speech act theory (also known as the theory of the performative) in the 1950s.2
In the following, I will read a number of Cavafian poems inspired by the theo-
retical possibilities that this theory has opened up. That Cavafy himself saw a
performative force in poetry provides an additional interest to the critical explo-
ration of his poems through the lense of speech act theory.
In Austin’s terminology, as it is laid out in How to Do Things With Words, a “per-
formative” or “speech act” is an utterance that does what it says, that constitutes
2 Austin introduced his speech act theory in a series of lectures at Harvard in the 1950s, but his
lectures were only posthumously published in 1962 with the title How to Do Things with Words. In
his theory the terms “speech act” and “performative” are being used interchangeably.
3 This double way of studying speech acts in literature is also taken up by J. Hillis Miller (1).
4 It is worth mentioning here that the definition of some of the terms of the speech act theory
does not remain stable throughout Austin’s book. The definition of the performative itself
broadens unexpectedly towards the end of the book, when Austin reaches the conclusion that
constative utterances are also performatives of a certain kind, performing actions of stating,
affirming, describing etc. Austin’s own act of modifying his theory while writing it is a perfect
example of an attitude that views theory not as a sacred object, but as something that needs to be
renewed and informed or even replaced when proven inadequate in practice. This example of
theoretical flexibility and open-mindedness invites readers of Austin’s theory to use it as a tool,
not an end in itself.
5 The term “perlocutionary act” in Austin refers to the production of effects on the interlocutor
(surprising, convincing, misleading, deceiving etc.).
6 Also in the original sense of the word “hypocrisy,” as play-acting.
The study of performativity in Cavafy’s poetry through these four strands will
lead me to the final question of whether and, if so, how the failures and com-
municative gaps in this poetry nevertheless work towards poetic events that are
felicitous. My definition of “felicitous” in this case will be poetry that still has
something to say in the present and can have an effect on contemporary culture;
poetry that turns failure into a critical act and transforms it into a motivating
force for practices of constant revaluation.
The question of intentionality takes center stage in the theory of the per-
formative. In a certain sense, Austin’s theory seems to break with intention. The
felicity of a speech act is more dependent on social conventions than on the
inner intention of the speaker.7 At the same time, however, Austin’s theory pre-
supposes a pre-determined, willing, intentional subject that is the originating
source of the speech act and is responsible for both the act and its perlocution-
ary effects. Intention remains thus a central axis in Austin’s account. Let us not
forget that literature is excluded from his theory, because literary speech acts are
not “serious,” thus not uttered with the intention of being taken seriously.
In Cavafian poetry the issue of intention cannot be bypassed. In the erotic
poems in particular, there is often a discrepancy between intention and action,
when a character is acting against his intentions. Out of this clash between inten-
tion and action emerges the speech act of promise, usually in the form of a com-
mitment or pledge to oneself. In “He swears” (O) the character in the
poem pledges to start a better life. His pledge, however, is broken by the seduc-
tive power of another promise: that of the night and of its sensual pleasures:
But when night comes with its own counsel,
its own compromises and prospects –
when night comes with its own power
of a body that needs and demands,
he returns, lost, to the same fatal pleasure.
The word translated by Keeley and Sherrard as “prospects” is the Greek word
for “promises.” The promise of the erotic act, which at the same time appears as
a demand and need of the body, takes over the moral intentions of the mind. In
the poem, the conflict between intention and action is played out on a battlefield
delineated by the split between the mental and the physical, the mind and the
body. The repetitious nature of the pledge (“he swears every now and then to begin
7 Thus, when a person says “I promise” s/he has performed the act, even if s/he did not intend to
keep the promise.
a better life,” my emphasis) intensifies the sense of the character’s inner struggle
and underscores the repeated failure (the infelicity) of his pledge. The first four
verses in the Greek original are cut in two8, with a gap left between them on the
page, which suggests the split of the self between a pledge made in language and
a body that “demands.” The force of the erotic seems stronger than the force of
the linguistic performance. These two are in fact placed here in opposing camps.
In “Of the Jews (A.D. 50)” [T E
(50 . .)] the voice of an uniden-
tified narrator in the first two verses introduces Ianthis: “Painter and poet,
runner, discus-thrower, / beautiful as Endymion: Ianthis son of Anthony.” Fol-
lowing this typically Hellenic portrait of a man, the third verse, reveals his Jewish
descent: “From a family on close terms with the Synagogue.” After this some-
what contradictory introduction, the narrator quotes a statement made by Ian-
this himself:
“My most valuable days are those
when I give up the pursuit of sensuous beauty,
when I desert the elegant and severe cult of Hellenism
...........................................
and become the man I would want to remain forever:
son of the Jews, the holy Jews.”
His statement is an attempt to (re)define his cultural identity and his sense of be-
longing. At the same time, despite its constative character, it could also be read as
a statement of intention or a promise: a promise to give up Hellenism and the
pursuit of sensual pleasure, and dedicate himself to Judaism. Right afterwards,
the narrator appears again to repeat part of Ianthis’s words. This second citation
of Ianthis’s words encourages a free interpretation of the kind of speech act Ian-
this utters, because the verb of the primary sentence is omitted: “A most fervent
declaration on his part: ‘ … to remain forever / a son of the Jews, the Holy
Jews.’” The reader is thus invited to replace the verb “I would want (to remain)”
with “I promise (to remain).” The next verses come as the confirmation of what
the reader may have suspected, the failure of the promise: “But he didn’t remain
anything of the kind. / The Hedonism and Art of Alexandria / kept him as their
dedicated son.” The illocutionary force of Ianthis’s statement, which would,
as he had hoped, constitute him as a Jew, is neutralized by the narrator’s initial
and closing verses, which emphasize “Hellenism” and “Hedonism” as stronger
forces. Placed at the beginning and the end of the poem, the narrator’s utter-
ances close off and eventually silence the character’s performative. The char-
acter’s inner struggle and the infelicity of his self-declaratory speech act are due
to the incompatibility of two co-existing cultural codes, Judaism and Hellenism,
and the character’s wish to eliminate the one in favor of the other.
There are more poems where the urge to follow the body’s erotic desire
proves to be stronger than the subject’s resolutions and promises to himself. In
“He had planned to read” (2H
) the intention stated in the title
is very soon given up. The poem, like many others in Cavafy, underscores the in-
compatibility of the act of studying or writing poetry (linguistic acts) with the
(homosexual) erotic act: “He’s completely devoted to books- / but he’s twenty
three, and very good looking” (my emphasis). And thus Eros wins him and the
books stay on the shelves.
Other characters appear determined to combine study with sensual pleasure,
like the character in “Dangerous thoughts” (T
), who is convinced
that he can give in to his erotic desires and at the same time recover at will his
“ascetic spirit as it was before.” However, the title of the poem indicates the nar-
row ground on which the character’s statement rests, and becomes the poet’s
own speech act of warning that such combinations are dangerous and bound to
fail. In “Understanding” (N «) the opposition between poetry and (erotic)
action is correlated with age, with the erotic act being reserved for one’s youth,
and poetry for an old man’s reflection and contemplation. Once more, during
the poetic subject’s days of youth, his intentions and resolutions to refrain from
the erotic act fail here repeatedly: “And my resolutions to hold back, to change, /
lasted two weeks at the most.”9
The suggestion in some of these poems that action and language (language as
study or poetry writing) are incompatible, could lead to the conclusion that Ca-
vafian poetry privileges a constative view of language, limited to description or
representation of “real” action. There are more poems that seem to propagate
such a view. In “Comes to rest” (N
) an erotic vision from the poet’s
youth “comes to rest in this poetry” after twenty-six years. In “When they come
alive” (2O
) the poet, in what appears to be a self-address, urges
himself to hold on to his visions: “Try to keep them, poet, / those erotic visions
of yours, / […] put them, half-hidden, in your lines.” Poetry appears to be a stor-
age place for memories, or a net to capture visions that would otherwise escape.
But does the poet merely wish to record these visions and memories? If that is
the case, why is it that the poetic voice is so uncertain and anxious about the suc-
cess of this “recording”? This anxiety is often betrayed by the use of per-
formative instead of constative language: In “When they come alive” the speech
act of urging or ordering is expressed by means of the imperative (“try to keep
them …” my emphasis). The title of the former poem, “Comes to rest,” could
also be translated differently from the Greek original (“N ”), as an order:
9 The repetitive nature of the resolutions (and their failure) is suggested in the Greek original by
the tense of the verb “last” (“
”), indicating a repeated or continuous action in the
past.
10 The title is repeated in the body of the poem as a secondary sentence “ …” (“came
to stay …”). However, that should not be binding for our interpretation of the title. Therefore, the
title (“N ”) could be a secondary sentence, dependent on the (omitted and implied) verb
“” [“(comes) to stay”], but it could also be an independent, primary sentence, expressing an
urge or order, as in: “I urge/order this vision to rest in this poetry.” According to the first inter-
pretation, we have a constative use of language, and according to the second, a performative use.
The poetic subject in many of Cavafy’s poems wishes to find himself in words, or
to let words shape him. The relation of the poet to his art is not one of subordi-
nation of object to subject, but one of mutual influence.
The performative force that the subject invests in poetic utterances, as well as
his willingness to give in to acts of poetry, work against the assumption that in
the poems a fully formed subject possesses a pre-existing intentional state. The
vulnerable, divided characters, who break their promises almost at the same mo-
ment they utter them, whose speech acts are contrasted with their inner feelings,
and whose public and private performances are so often contradictory, lack clear
intentions. Contrary to Austin’s belief in an intentional subject at the origin of
speech acts, poetic performatives in most of the poems that I have so far exam-
ined are not generated by an already formed, unified subject that has full au-
thority over them, but are part of the process of subject formation. The subject
is both their producer and their effect.
Austin excluded literature from his theory on the grounds that literary language
is hollow and void, and that literary performatives thus constitute a non-serious
use of language (there is, for example, no serious intention to kill somebody
when an actor threatens to do so on stage).11 But is this hollowness and lack of
seriousness an exclusive attribute of literary language?
In “Alexandrian Kings” (A
«) Cleopatra’s children are
being proclaimed kings in front of a huge crowd of Alexandrians. The ceremony
is a big theatrical performance, a “festival” as Cavafy calls it, without seriousness:
only three years before the defeat of Antonius in Actium, the children are being
appointed kings of areas, some of which have not yet been conquered (Bien 29).
The speeches and proclamations during the ceremony are thus fake and hollow,
and Cleopatra’s children, in their luxurious outfits, figure as tragic actors in a
play. It is remarkable that the crowd in Alexandria knows, but still decides to take
part in the celebration, through a willing suspension of disbelief, similar to that
of the reader of a novel or the spectator of a play:
and the Alexandrians thronged to the festival
full of enthusiasm, and shouted acclamations
in Greek, and Egyptian, and some in Hebrew,
charmed by the lovely spectacle –
11 “A performative utterance will, for example, be in a peculiar way hollow or void if said by an actor
on the stage, or introduced in a poem, or spoken in a soliloquy […] Language in such circum-
stances is in special ways – intelligibly – used not seriously, but in ways parasitic upon its normal
use […] All this we are excluding at present from consideration. Our performative utterances,
felicitous or not, are to be understood as issued in ordinary circumstances” (Austin 22).
Cavafy stresses the reference to the “Greek language” by virtue of repeating the
phrase, as well as by placing it in italics the second time. The reference to the
Greek language as “the vehicle of fame” sounds somewhat ironic, considering
that its superficiality has just been disclosed to the reader through the switching
of the names of victor and defeated in the same proclamation. Just as the repeti-
tion of the same proclamation but with a different name (Octavius) in the poem
exposes the hollowness and arbitrariness of political discourse, the repetition of
the “Greek language,” the second time characterized as “the vehicle of fame,” in-
cites the reader to act in a way similar to that of the town’s citizens: the reader
thus keeps the same phrase in mind, but is inclined to replace the word “fame”
with a word such as “pretense,” “lies” or “fake.” I would argue that this active
participation of the reader is also encouraged by the words “et cetera, et cetera”
in the end: the reader is thereby invited to fill in the gaps, to take part in an end-
less series of repetitions and alterations in language.
According to Judith Butler, linguistic performatives draw their power from
being repeated in a social context. These repetitions normally consolidate con-
ventions by making them appear natural, the way things have always been. Some-
times, however, repetitions introduce slight alterations, which manage to under-
mine conventions and expose the constructedness of the linguistic system
(Butler, 1–23). This is the case with this poem: by inviting the reader to perform
a critical repetition, which would expose the constructedness and emptiness of
the “Greek language” or of language in general, it ironically comments on – and
thus weakens – the performative that proclaims Octavius as the glorious victor.
The hypocrisy and hollowness of public/political discourse is thematized in
other poems as well. In “Julian in Nicomedia” (O I
« N
) Jul-
ian publicly reads passages from the Holy Scriptures in order to conceal his Hel-
lenic ideals and to convince the people of his Christian piety. “From the school
of the renowned philosopher” (A )
has a main character who lacks a stable system of moral beliefs, and considers re-
turning to politics if no other profession works out for him, by invoking “the
traditions of his family, / duty toward the country / and other resonant banalities of
that kind” (my emphasis).
As these poems suggest, public or political discourse is being employed in
order to deceive others and conceal a certain reality. However, regardless of their
actual hollowness, the performatives of this discourse can still be deemed felici-
tous in society when they are convincing and taken seriously in the historical
scene of their utterance. Sometimes they can be considered felicitous even with-
out having to convince others of their seriousness: in “Alexandrian Kings” the
crowd is not deceived, as it is aware of the hollowness of the proclamations made
during the ceremony. Despite this awareness, the performative is still felicitous
in a certain way, because the people choose to go along with the rules of the rit-
ual. The aesthetic part of the public performance is what saves the performatives
of public discourse:
But the day was warm and poetic,
the sky a pale blue,
the Alexandrian Gymnasium
a complete artistic triumph,
the courtiers wonderfully sumptuous,
Kaisarion all grace and beauty
Successful as they might have been when performed in their historical scene of
utterance, public performatives are stripped of their perlocutionary force and
“misfire” when performed as poetic utterances in the poems12, because it is here,
in literary language, that their hollowness is exposed. It is rather ironic that
poetic language, by definition “non-serious” according to Austin, becomes in
12 By referring to performatives as performed in their historical scene of utterance I take the historical not
as an objective account of the past, but as filtered through Cavafy’s imagination and his concep-
tion of history (regardless of whether the scenes are pseudo-historical or refer to actual historical
events). In this case, their felicity depends on the audience and social conventions within the his-
torical universe that the poet has set up. On the other hand, when taken as poetic performatives,
performing within the totality of the poem, their felicity depends on the reader and the socio-cultural
conventions of the here and now of every reading.
Cavafy the vehicle that reveals the non-seriousness and hollowness of political
and public discourse, a discourse based on the presupposition of its seriousness.
In a reversal of Austin’s distinction between serious and non-serious discourse,
poetic language in Cavafy becomes more “serious” than “serious” language use:
it communicates the truth hidden behind public discourse and constitutes a lin-
guistic site more genuine than public, official or political discourse.
In Cavafy the public and the private domain form a strong opposition: what is
public has a taste of fakeness and theatricality, while the private domain is where
the masks are removed and the real face of individuals or the true nature of
things appear. Of course, as I have shown in the previous part, the private is an
inherently unstable site in itself: a battlefield between intention and action, the
mental and the corporeal. However, whenever it is opposed to the public, the
private always appears as a more truthful site, despite its internal contradictions.
At the same time, the instability of both the private and the public is highly in-
terconnected: the deceptive nature and artificiality of the public domain makes it
vulnerable to a constant threat of exposure, while the private, a shelter and a hid-
ing-place for the “vulnerable places”13 of the individual, is always in danger of
being unveiled and “contaminated” by becoming part of the public sphere.
Aimilianos Monai, in the poem bearing his name as its title (A
« M,
A
«, 628–655 ..), wishes to construct “an excellent suit of armor,”
“out of talk, appearance and manners,” the tools for a respectable public per-
formance according to the decorum. This suit will hide and protect the private
places of his soul from those who would wish to penetrate them. In another
poem, “The prince from Western Libya” (H !« "«), the cen-
tral figure assumes a fake public image – that of a “man of few words” with a
Greek appearance and manners – in order to hide his triviality and lack of edu-
cation. Having so many words “bottled up inside him,” he suffers greatly under
his disguise, just as so many other Cavafian characters. In “Priest at the Sera-
peion” (I« #
), the Christian son of a pagan priest can only
mourn in private for the death of his father, because his father’s religion is con-
demned by dominant Christianity. Moreover, we already saw in many of Cavafy’s
erotic poems how characters are torn by having to keep their homoerotic desires
strictly private, while assuming a different face in public.
The fictionalization and at the same time failure of the performatives of public
discourse, which lose their perlocutionary force vis-à-vis the reader as their
hollowness is exposed through poetic discourse, reveal the critical potential of
the poetic performative. It is due to these failures in the poems that the limits,
the constructedness, even the irrationality of social conventions are exposed.
Through their repetition within a social context, performatives work towards the
consolidation of the dominant ideology, by creating the effect that they are natu-
ral instead of culturally produced (Slinn 69). When these peformatives are fic-
tionalized and then flouted, the conventions and norms that they support are
denaturalized and destabilized as well. Cavafy’s poetry – as well as his life – was
to a great extent nourished by the tragic effects of conventions that restrict the
individual and generate an irreconcilable opposition between the private and the
public. Without this opposition his poetry would not have been the same. But at
the same time, by flouting the performatives of public discourse, his poems
underscore the irrational in this dichotomy and implicitly envision a merging of
the two opposites in a society without masks and pretense.
Many of the poems I have so far examined unveil public and social life as a
theatrical stage, full of performances, for which individuals are often forced
to wear masks. Failing to carry out one’s public performance could actually have
a positive value, since it would require the courage to confront the social with-
out the pretentious protective shield of conventions. In “King Dimitrios”
(O B
« !«), the hero is characterized as “a noble soul,” because
he had the courage to dispose of his royal outfit together with his role as a king
when the “play” was over:
When the Macedonians deserted him
and showed they preferred Pyrrhos,
King Dimitrios (a noble soul) didn’t behave
– so they said –
at all like a king.
He took off his golden robes,
threw away his purple buskins,
and quickly dressing himself
in simple clothes, he slipped out –
just like an actor who,
the play over,
changes his costume and goes away.
His act, viewed by the historian Plutarch (Cavafy’s source for the incident) as an
act of cowardice, is in Cavafy’s poem revaluated and endowed with dignity.14 Fail-
ing, learning how to fail and accepting failure, is in Cavafy more dignified than
succeeding, despite its tragic taste.
The role of history in Cavafy’s poetry has been extensively discussed by critics.
Cavafy’s special relation to history is epitomized in his own statement: “I am a
historical poet; I could never write a novel or a play, but I feel 125 voices in me
14 Cavafy gives a quote from Plutarch at the beginning of the poem: “Not like a king but an actor he
put on a gray cloak instead of his royal one and secretly went away.”
15 I will be using the term “historical poems” as an inclusive term for all poems that are situated in a
historical past, regardless of their (lack of) correspondence to real historical events or figures.
Pseudo- and semi-historical poems are thus also discussed here under the same category, be-
cause I believe that the distinction into purely historical, pseudo-historical etc. poems, which
many critics follow, imposes artificial distinctions, which obscure the hybridization of discourses
that is a crucial feature of these poems.
16 Needless to say, there are many differences between these discourses, but, as the poems suggest,
not of a fundamental nature.
17 Bhabha uses the term in relation to the authority of colonial discourse. The historical discourse
that Cavafy’s language mimics and subverts is also an authoritative discourse, closely connected
to and often dictated by the project of colonialism.
negative omens. The failure to take the warning seriously eventually leads to
Caesar’s and Mithridatis’ assassination.
It is quite ironic that the infelicity of speech acts often becomes a generating
force in history: wars are fought because a promise was not kept, emperors mur-
dered because they ignored a warning. In this way, the poems point to human
suffering, pain and even death as the tragic outcomes of infelicitous speech acts
and, in final analysis, of the inability of people to build a stable intersubjective so-
cial context that can ensure successful communication.
The social context in Cavafy’s poems is hardly ever homogeneous. In fact,
competing, mutually threatening and mutually cancelling social or religious sys-
tems within the same society are often accountable for the infelicity of per-
formatives. In “Kleitos’ illness” (H
K) the old servant that
brought Kleitos (a Christian) up, resorts to an idol she used to worship in her
youth, in order to pray for Kleitos’ life. However, her prayer is destined to fail,
because – as the narrating voice informs us – “the black demon couldn’t care
less / whether a Christian gets well or not.” This last remark is not really meant
to bring out the foolishness in the old woman; it rather exposes the ludicrous
nature of religious conventions, which are not based on some objective religious
truth or a God that exists beyond these conventions: prayers and rituals are
simply speech acts that are felicitous only within a specific set of conventions,
and invalid outside of this system. In “Julian seeing contempt” King Julian’s
attempts to establish a “new religious system” (a form of paganism) to replace
Christianity are met with strong resistance and contempt by his people. The
speech acts of his new religious law are not effective, because they collide with an
apparently stronger set of religious conventions in that historical moment.
The co-existence of Christian, Jewish and pagan elements in the hybrid so-
cieties of the poems often results in a communicative gap, which makes the fel-
icity of speech acts highly uncertain. Whereas Austin always presupposes that a
stable social context provides a set of conditions for “happy” performatives, Ca-
vafy’s poems show us that in history such stable and homogeneous contexts are
very hard to find.
Communication does not fail only within a single social context (synchroni-
cally), but also when a dialogue is attempted between different historical con-
texts (diachronically). Cavafy stages such encounters in his poems by pulling ut-
terances out of their original context and making them function in another one.
A speech act that is successfully performed in a certain historical moment, is
often blatantly flouted when uttered within another one. Through these “experi-
ments” readers can watch how the perlocutionary force of utterances changes as
they travel through time.
“In the year 200 B.C.” (#
200 . .) is such an experiment. The narrator in
the poem starts by citing Alexander the Great’s inscription on the Persian treas-
ures that he sent to Athens in 334 B.C.: “Alexander, son of Philip, and the Greeks
except the Lacedaimonians …” The narrator then reflects on this quote by first
trying to reconstruct the Lacedaimonians’ point of view:
We can very well imagine
how completely indifferent the Spartans would have been
to this inscription. “Except the Lacedaimonians” –
naturally. The Spartans weren’t to be led
and ordered around
like precious servants. Besides,
they wouldn’t have thought a pan-Hellenic expedition
without a Spartan king in command
was to be taken seriously.
Of course, then, “except the Lacedaimonians.”
That’s certainly one point of view.
Quite understandable. He then goes on in celebrational and glorified tones to
praise Alexander’s conquests and the birth of “the great new Hellenic world,”
which emerged out of these conquests:
And from this marvellous pan-Hellenic expedition,
triumphant, brilliant in every way,
celebrated on all sides, glorified,
incomparable, we emerged:
the great new Hellenic world.
We the Alexandrians, the Antiochians,
the Selefkians, and the countless
other Greeks of Egypt and Syria,
and those in Media and Persia, and all the rest:
with our far-flung supremacy,
our flexible policy of judicious integration,
and our Common Greek Language
which we carried as far as Bactria, as far as the Indians.
How can one talk about Lacedaimonians now!
At first sight, the poem unravels as a dithyrambic account of a Greek, inspired by
Alexander’s spreading of the Greek culture to the ends of the world. However,
the title with its chronology (200 B.C.) situates the narrator in a particular histo-
rical context, which envelops the whole poem and ends up subverting and un-
dermining its nationalist message. As we read in the notes to the poems added by
George Savvidis, “The title […] situates the point of view of the poem at an op-
timum moment of the decline of Hellenism: some 130 years after Alexander’s
victories and three years before the battle of Cynoscephalae, when Philip V […],
the last of the Macedonian Philips, was crushingly defeated by the Romans” (Ca-
vafy 240).18
18 Savvidis’s notes to the poems, which offer clarifications regarding the historical context, the
characters etc. in the poems, are translated by Keeley and Sherrard and added as an appendix to
the volume of the Collected Poems.
In the omen of the title, an informed reader who is knowledgeable about the
context of 200 B.C. already sees the specter of the imminent future – the decline
and fall of the world that Alexander built – cast upon the Hellenic world in the
year 200 B.C. From a present viewpoint, the title thus ironically turns the nar-
rator’s dithyramb into a hollow and quite ridiculous nationalist sermon. A lament
about the imminent collapse of the Hellenic world would be more in place in this
context. Alexander’s inscription, which is cited in the poem, also loses its force
as it is re-contextualized. The contempt and disgrace that the inscription was
meant to bring to the Spartans, is transferred to the triumphant successors
of Alexander in 200 B.C., who are soon to lose their power. For the reader today,
the narrator’s final exclamation – “How can one talk about Lacedaimonians
now!” – acquires an ironic undertone, as the reader is invited to replace “Lace-
daimonians” with “the great new Hellenic world,” which is soon to be shattered
and eventually forgotten. The title therefore deprives the narrator’s speech of its
perlocutionary force vis-à-vis the reader and turns it into an infelicitous per-
formative. At the same time, it gives the reader an active role, by suggesting that
this poem, and every poem, is not an ahistorical utterance with an eternal, un-
changing value, but a performative, which has a different uptake according to the
context of its utterance.
In “If actually dead” (E
) the first and largest part of the poem is a
contemplation on the possible fate of Apollonios of Tyana (“the Sage” who lived
in the first century A.D.) after his disappearance. The narrator of this part refers
to different rumors about his fate, but focuses more on the assertion that he may
still be alive and that “transfigured, he moves among us / unrecognized.” The
narrator ends by declaring that he believes in the return of the Sage, with a state-
ment that has the certainty of a prophecy: “But he will come again / as he was,
teaching the ways of truth; and then of course / he’ll bring back the worship of
our gods / and our elegant Hellenic rites.” The whole first part is enclosed in
quotation marks, which suggest that it is cited by another narrative agent. The
second part, without quotation marks, situates the first part in a historical con-
text and introduces the speaker who made the statement of the first part: “These
were the musings of one of the few pagans, / one of the very few still left”; It was
the time “when Justin the Elder / reigned in total piety, / and Alexandria, a godly
city, / detested pitiful idolators.” In this context of thriving Christianity, with the
speaker of the first part being one of the “detested pitiful idolators,” readers are
forced to rethink their reading of the first part. The final prophetic statement of
the first part, which could have been credible or convincing in an earlier time,
loses its power. The same words, once they have been situated in time, sound like
the nonsensical ramblings of an eccentric. The performative utterance of the
first part misfires.
In other poems, poetic utterances are not explicitly recontextualized, but it is
left to the reader to perform this act. In “Alexander Jannaios and Alexandra”
(A
« I
«,
A
) there is no indication as to who the
poem’s narrator is. The use of the present tense leads to the assumption that the
person narrating is contemporary to the events he recounts. The speaker uses a
highly optimistic and celebrational tone to talk about the coming to power of
Alexander Jannaios and his wife, Jewish monarchs, whose reign marks a period
of Jewish autonomy. The speaker is clearly content and excited, for now “all sub-
servience to the haughty monarchs / of Antioch is over.” Nothing seems to
threaten the power of these new monarchs, who are about to open a new glori-
ous chapter in Jewish history. However, the notes to the poems by the editor
again inform us otherwise: the period of the Jewish autonomy was merely an in-
terval of 80 years between the periods of the Greek and the Roman domination
(Cavafy 238). The narrator, unaware of the short future of the Jewish autonomy,
ends his utterance full of hope and pride: “The work begun by the great Judas
Maccabaios / and his four celebrated brothers / has indeed been concluded bril-
liantly, / concluded in the most striking way.” The reader, however, knows –
thanks to the editor. The narrator’s utterance, with its tragic irony, has a bitter
taste, when read from the perspective of a learned reader.
There are more poems in which Cavafy plays with contexts and perspectives.
By historicizing utterances and then inciting the reader to position these utter-
ances in different contexts – including the reader’s own – the poems suggest that
utterances, historical, poetic, or of any kind, do not have an inherent, universal
and eternal meaning. The poems thematize the repetitive and citational nature of
utterances, the performative force of which changes in their travels through con-
texts.
This version of performativity is closer to Derrida’s and Butler’s conception
of the performative as based on repetition. Derrida’s version of the performative
stresses not the uniqueness and the here-and-now of an utterance, but its ci-
tational nature. The power of the performative is based on its iterability – on the
fact that it is constantly repeated and consequently standardized and conven-
tionalized. But a repetition is never identical and always involves alteration. Ac-
cording to Butler, the repetition of performatives sustains and consolidates the
system and its discourse, but at the same time opens the possibility for change,
critique and intervention.19
Cavafy’s poems explore the possibilities of critique through repetition, ci-
tation and alteration. According to Anne Hartman, poems that point out their
derivative or citational nature to a greater degree, or expose the constructedness
of the discourses they cite, make us more aware of their “status as performance
or repetition” (283). Cavafy’s poems do not only perform a critique of other dis-
courses (as that of history) by citing and subverting them, but by underscoring
19 These views on performativity are laid out in Derrida’s “Signature, Event, Context” and in
Butler’s “Introduction” to Bodies That Matter.
the iterability and performativity of the poetic utterance, they willingly offer
themselves to a constant revaluation and critique. They subject themselves to
endless performances in new contexts and readings. Even more, by showing that
the same utterance can be felicitous in one context and infelicitous in another,
the poems expose their own vulnerability to failure, a vulnerability that is at the
same time their power. Language is fragile; there is no guarantee for the felicity
of linguistic utterances. They have to perform time and again for many audiences
and when they fail to convince they should leave the stage, like King Dimitrios,
when his role as a king is over. At the same time, utterances that are in a certain
moment obsolete or lacking perlocutionary force, can always be called back on
stage and give a felicitous performance in another context.
Cavafy’s poems, with their self-reflexive performativity, invite a more active
and critical view upon poetry as a dynamic cultural form. The poetic mixing of
discourses and contexts, and the interaction or collision of different social/re-
ligious systems and conventions, and of people from different worlds and eras,
turn his poetry into a testing ground for discourses, norms and conventions.
All the performances that we have so far examined – the erotic, the public, the
historical – come together in the language of poetry, which every time promises
to execute these performances. Cavafy’s poetry is instilled with the promise of
language to act and create, thereby providing an antidote to the things that the
poet could not do and experience in real life. At the same time, the frequent fail-
ure of performatives in the poems indicates that language cannot always keep its
promise.
I believe that the failure of language to keep its promise of creation and to
substantiate the linguistic categories that it constructs is vividly manifest in one
of Cavafy’s most famous poems, “Waiting for the Barbarians” (P
« 2
« B
«). The poem is staged in a decadent city, not historically defined
but resembling Rome. It is structured as a dialogue between two interlocutors:
one poses a series of questions and another one answers them. The questions
concern the commotion and preparations that the whole city seems to be mak-
ing, the reason for which the first speaker wishes to know. The answer to all the
questions is the same, repeated again and again: “Because the barbarians are
coming today.” We – and the first speaker – are therefore informed that every-
one (the senators, the emperor, the consuls, the praetors and the orators) is pre-
paring to receive the barbarians, who are coming to take over the city. The rather
paradoxical enthusiasm of the people is followed by utter disappointment, or
even despair, when the barbarians do not come by the end of the day.
A never-ending promise,
or how to make felicitous poems out of infelicitous performatives
Despite the frequent failure of language to keep its promises in the poems of Ca-
vafy, the felicity of Cavafy’s poetry is not dependent on the successful realization
of promises, but on the perpetuation of the promise itself. Cavafian poetry may
be full of infelicitous speech acts, unsuccessful plans, unresolved (discursive)
conflicts, but it is the promise of language – not its success – that becomes its real
driving force. According to one of the most quoted Cavafian poems, “Ithaca,” it
is the journey that matters, not the arrival to our destination. In a similar way,
promises are journeys that may or may not reach their destination by being real-
ized. It is in fact the act of missing (mis-keeping) promises that perpetuates the
act of promising, as the failure of a promise engenders new promises and antici-
pations and prevents closure.
Felman argues that promises are constituted by the act of failing (missing), be-
cause they always miss the present (a promise always refers to a future act) by
leading towards an anticipation of the future: the anticipation of the act of con-
cluding (32). In literary language, I suggest, the perpetuation of promising entails
the perpetuation of two other acts as well: the act of writing literature, because the
poet does not give up striving towards a language that can act and create, but also
the act of reading, because the end of the pleasure of reading that would coincide
with the fulfillment of the promise of language, is constantly deferred to a future
moment. It also perpetuates the act of interpreting by readers or critics, because
meaning is never fully present, as poems anticipate their future interpretations.
In doing so, the poetic language in Cavafy, even when it deals with moments in
the past, is always pointing towards a future moment. It is this move towards the
future through the act of promising that sustains the activity of Cavafy’s poems
against closure. The only promise that his poetry is sure to keep is that it will
continue to promise.
The infelicity of promises and other performatives within the poems does
not entail the failure of Cavafy’s poems as performatives. On the contrary: the
shocking experience of being confronted with failed performatives, broken
promises and communicative gaps has much stronger perlocutionary effects on
the reader than the effects of felicitous acts. Failure is almost always accompa-
nied by a questioning of the conditions that led to it and thus leaves open the
possibility of critique. Nothing is being questioned when everything seems to be
successful. It is only when the reader starts reflecting on the reasons for failures
in the poems that their critical force is revealed. Failure in Cavafy becomes a dy-
namic form of critique, because it unveils situations that would otherwise remain
buried under the cover of success: it exposes the hollowness and constructed-
ness of discourses that would have never been questioned if no (linguistic) fail-
ure or weakness had been involved; it suggests that there is something wrong in
the ways we communicate and act, and manages to place the contexts of failed
communicative acts under scrutiny.
By acting out failure, the poems risk their own felicity as performatives, be-
cause they, too, as cultural objects, are subject to repetition and failure. But at the
same time, this repetition of their performance in the act of reading keeps them
critically active in the present and constantly calls for the reader’s involvement.
Fortunately, with all their failed performatives, Cavafy’s poems still offer a totally
convincing performance today.
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