281 CHRONICLESnScott Fitzgerald, Edna Millay, EugenenO’Neill, probably Hemingway when wenknow it.” He went on to remark that itnwould take “a combination of psychologist,nsociologist, literary historian andncritic, as well as an expert in alcoholism,nto try to explain why.”nIn Manic Power: Robert Lowell andnHis Circle, Jeffrey Meyers combines allnof these skills to add the latest soberingnchapter to what I have called thenunbroken line of Romantic verse that,nin glorifying emotion as such, reachesnan extremity in madness. Meyers, anprofessor of English at the Universitynof Colorado, here presents a concise,nsharply delineated composite biographynof four tragic post-World War IInAmerican poets — Robert Lowell,nRandall Jarrell, John Berryman, andnTheodore Roethke. A final chapternnarrates the story of Sylvia Plath, thensuicide-poet who knew them or theirnwork and who preceded them in death.nWithout flinching from the anarchy ofntheir disordered personal lives and thensuffering they caused their relatives andnfriends, Meyers contends thatnmental illness seemed tonstimulate their creative genius,nfor the constant anxiety, terrornand sense of doom intensifiednisolation and introspection,nheightened the intellectualndefiance of the social outcastnwho questions and challengesnconventional ideas aboutnmorality, and encouraged thenpoet to control the potentiallyndangerous element in hisncharacter through the order andnform of art.nTheir verse reflects, in short, a manicnpower.nPlato of course suspected the poet’snrhapsody of being a derangement of thenmind itself But implicit in his criticismnwas the view that the rhapsodic inspirationnof the poet is a transient madness innwhich reason is temporarily eclipsed bynthe numinous afflatus of the god. Butnwith the modern poets whom JeffreynMeyers has brilliantly analyzed, we arenfaced with a prolonged or recurrentnmadness not of divine origin. Lowell,nBerryman, Jarrell, and Roethke werenpoets who. Professor Meyers tells us,nhad ineffectual or absent fathers, strong,nseductive, or even monstrous mothersnwho “devoured their sons, unwillingnsexual substitutes for their fathers, withnan overwhelming passion.” As he recountsnit, “The poets’ serious problemsnwith their parents led to tempestuousnmarriages, which were characterized byninfidelity, alcoholism, violence andnmental breakdowns. . . . The lack of anfather and presence of an oppressivenmother not only contributed to theirnemotional instability, but led them tonmistreat their wives in order to vindicatentheir fathers and punish their mothers.”nIt is Meyers’ view that all four ofnthese poets were trapped in an identicalnpattern of eccentricities that faded intonand out of violence and insanity. Roethkenhad his first breakdown in 1935 atnthe age of 27; Berryman in 1939 at thenage of 25; Lowell in 1949 at the age ofn32. All were hospitalized for mentalnillness; shock treatment was common.nJarrell, on being released from a psychiatricnward after a failed suicide attempt,nran out onto a highway in 1965 andnthrew himself in front of an automobile.nIn 1972 Berryman, like his own father,nalso committed suicide—by jumpingnoff a bridge in Minneapolis. (Auden isnsaid to have been the source of anmalicious tale to the effect that Berrymannleft a suicide note for Lowellnsaying “Your move, Cal.” But Lowellnand Roethke died of heart attacks undeniablynconnected to their alcoholismnand manic frenzy.)nUnder ordinary circumstances, itnwould take some digging into the biographicalnarchive to document the mentalnillness of these poets. ProfessornMeyers in fact gives us the result of thisnkind of research. But these poets —nrejecting Eliot’s call for impersonality innverse — incorporated their experiencenof madness right into the poetry theynwrote: they bled directly onto the page.nAnd herein, I am afraid, lies a large partnof their morbid appeal. We go to theirnpowerful poems as people rush to thenscene of an automobile accident—fornthe chill, the ghastly thrill, of seeing thenbodies strewn about and bleeding.nIn a brilliant reformulation that cutsnright through the cant of much apologeticndefense of the Lowell circle. ProfessornMeyers remarks that “The literarynmanifestation of the mental illnessnof Lowell, Berryman and Roethkencame to be known as confessional poetry.”nThe same is true of Jarrell, whonwas only “more covert in the expressionnof his psychological depression.” In thisnnnjudgment Meyers is perfectly on target.nAll four exposed their childhood unhappiness,nrage at parents, marital chaos,nand mental derangement, in their poetry,nwith a thrilling candor. Lowell, thenmost distinguished of the four poets andnthe acknowledged leader of the group,nled the way, excoriating his parents innLife Studies, exposing the conjugalnstrife he created for his long-sufferingnwife Elizabeth Hardwick, and confessingnin “Skunk Hour” that “My mind’snnot right.” According to Meyers, Lowelln”dominated his friends by an overwhelmingnforce of will and led them tondisaster and destruction” and encouragedn”the impulses that fed the crackupnverse of his students, Anne Sextonnand Sylvia Plath, and led directly tontheir suicides.” This is a harsh judgment,none which refuses to romanticizenthe Lowell circle as they romanticizednthemselves, but it is based on thendocumented facts of their jealous andnimitative interrelationships.nSylvia Plath, for example, acclaimednLife Studies as an “intense breakthroughninto very serious, verynpersonal, emotional experience whichnI feel has been partiy taboo. RobertnLowell’s poems about his experiencenin a mental hospital, for example, interestednme very much” — as well theynmight have, since she had already triednand failed to commit suicide, an experiencenshe then recounted in The BellnJar and several poems. Lowell’s revelationnof what she called his “nakednpsyche” became the model fornBerryman’s Dream Songs, Jarrell’sn”Thinking of the Lost World,” Plath’sn”Daddy,” and Roethke’s “My Papa’snWaltz” — all intimate self-exposures ofndamaged sensibilities.nAs Meyers skeptically notes, bothnBerryman and Lowell believed thatn”madness gave the poet a kind ofnvisionary power and put him in touchnwith deeper truths that were beyondnthe reach of ordinary men.” EvennRoethke, in “In a Dark Time,” exaltednthe demented state: “What’s madnessnbut nobility of soul / At odds withncircumstance?” With this viewpoint itnis no wonder that Roethke tried toninduce attacks of madness by thenRimbaudian trick of deranging his ownnsenses. On one occasion he went intonthe woods, deliberately started dancingnin circles, stripped off his clothes, andnwent into a frenzy. He claimed ton