As seems to be common in the class, I have once again read a poem I don’t know by a poet I am extremely unfamiliar with. I mention this only because, generally, once read my immediate reaction is, “how could I have not heard of this before?” Certainly that’s my sentiment in regards to Robert Hayden’s Middle Passage. A text that was written in the mid-1940’s and which he revised multiple times in his career.
Looking at this poem through the lens of witness, one of the most compelling aspects are the voices not heard. The speakers in the poem include a deponent at a hearing, a former slave trader, a rebellion survivor, and an unknown narrator. Whose voices are not overtly presented, are those of the slaves themselves. Their lack of voice both (a) places their presence in the forefront and (b) conveys to the reader a component of their new life ahead [at least as perceived by others who surround them]. i.e., human beings are now speechless cargo. There’s more that I discussed in my presentation, but I’d like to use the rest of this space to briefly comment on something else.
I looked up the word deponent in the Oxford English Dictionary. The OED lists the first definition as an adjective in grammar.
Of verbs: Passive or middle in form but active in meaning: originally a term of Latin Grammar. Both form and meaning were originally reflexive (e.g. utor I serve myself, fruor I delight myself, proficiscor I put myself forward, etc.), as in the Middle Voice in Greek; as, however, in ordinary verbs the reflexive form had become a passive in Latin, these verbs were erroneously regarded as having laid aside or dropped a passive meaning, whence the name. In reality, what was laid aside, or lost sight of, was the reflexive sense.
I am intrigued by this definition in relation to this poem. I can’t help but suspect that Hayden, unlike me, knew of this primary definition and that was part of why he selected to use the term for one of the voices who speaks in part I. The complete lack of self-reflexivity of the speakers actions; one who passively watches and describes gang rape and human anguish at multiple levels creates an ironic distance and pushes the reader away from the speaker. This lack of insight was essential to the success – for lack of a better term – of the middle passage. Consequently, as mentioned in class, those who do speak are not necessarily witnesses, because they do not see.
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joolse 
fascinating, Julia! your reflection on Hayden’s use of the word “deponent” gives me so much to think about in relation to “witness” and the qualities required of a “witness.”
Poet Robert Hayden was born Asa Bundy Sheffey in 1913. He was raised by foster parents William and Sue Hayden. According to the Poetry Foundation website, he invested little time in sports activities, due to nearsightedness. In the 1930’s Hayden researched black history for the Federal Writers’ Project in Detroit. This study influenced his poetic work and focus. Other influences include W.H. Auden, under whom he studied and the poet Stephen Vincent Benet. The website also mentioned that in the 1960’s Hayden received criticism from other prominent African-Americans, for the formal attributes of his work seemed to be removed from his own racial heritage.
Middle Passage was written in the early 1940’s and revised multiple times by Hayden throughout his career. Much has been written about this poem – especially in relation to modernism. I hope to provide a few reflections after having just discovered the text.
In Jim Murphy’s article, “ ‘Here Only the Sea is Real’: Robert Hayden’s Postmodern Passages” opens with a story of Hayden attmeption to obtain a passport in order to travel to Mexico. He discovers that he was never formally adopted and identity was only established after an affidavit from his birth mother confirmed that R. Hayden and A. Sheffey were the same person. Murphy goes on to assert in his article that, “[A] ‘name’ is not a ‘self,’ but attempts to mend the disjunct between the two characterize Robert Hayden’s career-long poetic project: a self-conscious quest for a unified conception of where ‘Robert Hayden’ belongs ….”
Middle Passage is a poem in three stanzas, contains text from assorted documents that Hayden obtained, and conveys details of travel on the idle passage lus the Amistad mutiny. Multiple voices inform the narrative, and include perspectives from a former slave trader (II), the deponent (II), captain’s journals (I), rebellion survivor (III), and omniscient narrator(s).
Although the quote above refers to an overall approach to Robert Hayden as man and as poet, the phrase “[A] ‘name’ is not a ‘self’ ….” Is applicable to the poem. If we look at what names are given, what voices are presented – and which are lacking – Middle Passage may be seen to embody this idea. The Africans, the slaves, never speak directly in the piece. But the acknowledgement that they are people (‘selves’) is prevalent. The captain’s log in the first stanza describes them in human terms in spite of the purpose of the voyage and the conditions [‘rebellious’, ‘prayer for death’, ‘try to starve’, ‘crazy’]. These are human actions and attributes. Note that no names are given to the slaves.
Later in section I they are referred to as ‘cattle’ and ‘savage.’ These words hold a certain irony when it is the crew who consistently act savagely. Plus, the reader has already been made aware by this time that the omniscient narrator does not perceive the African men as ‘cattle’, even if the voice of the current speaker does. Although there are no specific names attributed to anyone in this portion, ‘Crew and Captain’ are each capitalized – thus imbuing them with authority and personhood in a way that is denied the others in the text.
In the second section, the reader is presented with a list of names of African men [“Fellatah, Mandingo, Ibo, Kru” and “King Anthracite”]. The irony in naming all of them is that only one is presented as any sort of person [although I will argue below that he is not representative of the ‘self’ as others are’]. The man portrayed is King Anthracite, who turns on those in his village – those he is meant to protect. He strips his citizens of their personhood and has his “warriors” “lead the young in coffles to [our] factories.” Thus those who were individuals are now de-personified without name. However, given how Africans are portrayed in sections I and III, they are not de-humanized. That is to say, they exist in de-humanizing conditions but didn’t suddenly “convert” into something other than a person in the narrator’s point of view (and they are not meant to be perceived differently by the reader either). [Aside: I use the word convert deliberately, as another factor in the poem is the prevalence of Christian text.]
In section III the story of the mutiny on the Amistad is conveyed. This time the reader is given the name of one African – Cinquez – who lead the effort. King Anthracite fostered the murder of his own villagers; Cinquez (a.k.a. “The Prince”) aided in the murder of white slave traders. I speculate that Cinquez represents, in a literary sense, what Murphy attributed to Hayden and his work. Cinquez is an embodiment of the meaning of the disjunct – he has both a name and a self. King Anthracite has a name but no self. Why? Because I, as reader, do not share his motivations? No. It is because the narrator has placed King Anthracite as a piece of a larger structure, a cog in an inhumane system that is maintained by his actions. Cinquez may also be in that system, but he acts from a sense of self outside of what is required of the structure – specifically he attempts to usurp the structure. Furthermore, he acts with and on behalf of others – an awareness that he is with other people (other ‘selves’).
As mentioned earlier, the captain’s log in the opening stanzas of section I describes the African passengers in terms that border on an acknowledgement of personhood. But the captain, like King Anthracite, maintained his position within a larger system. He exists in the poem in a purely functional capacity. [Note: I mean to say that he is functional as a cog and functional as a poetic device who establishes the situation and carries the story forward.]