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Content THE COLOUR OF DOUBT :
MOVEMENT POETRY
by
E lizabeth Neece C onquest
A D issertation P re se n ted to the
FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In P artial Fulfillm ent of the
R equirem ents for th e D egree
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
, ' ( E n g li s h ) ., ■ ..
Septem ber 1982
UMI Num ber: D P23088
All rights reserved
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UNIVERSITY O F S O U T H E R N CA LIFORNIA
T H E G R A D U A T E S C H O O L
U N IV E R S IT Y PA R K
L O S A N G E L E S , C A L IF O R N IA 9 0 0 0 7 Ph • D -
e
' 83
C753
This dissertation, written by
E lizabeth Neece C onquest
under the direction of kSS..... Dissertation Com
mittee, and approved by all its members, has
been presented to and accepted by The Graduate
School, in partial fulfillment of requirements of
the degree of
D O C T O R OF P H I L O S O P H Y
J .....................
Dean
982_ _ _ _
DISSERTATION COMMITTEE
< ?
For my d a u g h te r, Helen
ii
th a t strange illu m in a tio n
That poets are always working to bring out
— The colour o f doubt.
R obert C onquest, "In th e Rhodope"
iil
TABLE OF CONTENTS
C h ap ter Page
I. MOVEMENT ATTITUDES . ........................................................... 1
II. MOVEMENT STRA TEG IES.................................................................... 33
III. DONALD DAVIE . . . . . .............................................. 95
IV. PHILIP L A R K IN .................................................................................... 127
V . THOM GUNN ......................................................................................... 152
V I. MOVEMENT INFLUENCES................................................................... 186
A SELECTED BIBLIO G RA PH Y .................................................................... 199
iv
PREFACE
What has become known as Movement p o e try em erged in th e
early 1950s as p a rt of a revulsion a g ain st M odernist experim entalism
and a rev iv al of in te re st in trad itio n al form s. Though th e poets
concerned e x h ib ited , even at th e ir clo sest, a wide v a rie ty of individual
a ttitu d e s , to n es, and even tec h n iq u e s, th e y n ev erth eless ad h ered to
p rin cip les and a ttitu d e s which set them a p a rt from much recen t
p o e try in English p o e try —principles and a ttitu d e s which th ey some
tim es sta te d in general term s, b u t n e v er p re se n te d o r analyzed in a
full o r formal fashion. One aim of th is d issertatio n is to re d re ss th e
balan ce.
T hough the Movement p o e ts, o r ra th e r some of them , have
d iverged in v ario u s ways from th e original loose agreem ent which
b ro u g h t them to g e th e r, it rem ains tru e th a t rig h t up to the p re s e n t
day th e ir work has set th e sta n d a rd for much contem porary B ritish
p o e try a n d , a t th e same tim e, h as become th e touchstone of m odern
criticism of th a t p o e try , w hether in agreem ent w ith, o r in rejection
of, Movement p rin cip le s.
A ccordingly, now th a t we are approachig o u r own fin-de-sifecle,
it seems an ap p ro p riate time to evaluate th e p o e try of the Movement,
fo r th a t p o etry is emblematic of an especially in te re stin g historical
phenom enon. From an American p e rsp e c tiv e , th e Movement may
a p p ea r somewhat an tiq u ate d , y et in an im portant sen se, th e Movement
v
poets carried on th e trad itio n of c e n tu rie s of English p o etry from
C haucer to Auden which is , a fte r all, a h eritag e th at th e American
re a d e r cannot ig n o re.
As my own m anuscript n eared completion, a fu ll-len g th treatm ent
b y Blake M orrison ( The Movement: English Poetry and Fiction of the
1950s, O xford: Oxford U. P re ss, 1980) was p u b lish ed . Although
th e re is some o v erlap , th is d issertatio n is prim arily a critical exam ina
tio n of the poetic th eo ries and p rac tic es of Movement p o e ts, while his
treatm ent is a d iscursive and larg ely h isto rical overview of Movement
p o e try an d fiction. M orrison em phasizes the common social o rig in s of
most of th e p o e ts, th e ir aw areness of th e poet-audience relatio n sh ip ,
and th e re su lta n t techniques u sed b y th e Movement w rite rs to establish
and control communication with th e re a d e r. Though he deals
ex ten siv ely with the coercive m anner in which these p o ets m anipulate
th e re a d e r, he does not form ulate a complete th eo ry of how a Movement
poem w orks.
I wish to thank P ro fesso r M arjorie P erloff for y e a rs of helpful
guidance and u n d e rsta n d in g , as well as many personal k in d n esse s;
P ro fesso r Donald G reene for his p ercep tiv e comments and su g g estio n s;
and P rofessor George B auer for actin g as my outside re a d e r.
vi
1
I . Movement A ttitu d es
It is p e rh a p s symbolic th a t New Y ear's D ay, 1950, m arked th e end
of th e lite ra ry magazine H orizon. Betw een th e day of its firs t issu e ,
C hristm as, 1939, and th e day of its dem ise, Horizon produced some ten
th o u san d pages dealing with such v aried fields as a rc h ite c tu re , p ain tin g ,
sc u lp tu re , politics, film, philosophy, econom ics, m usic, psychology,
lite ra tu re , and lite ra ry criticism . As C yril Connolly no ted , th e m agazine
went th ro u g h th re e historically im portant p h ases in its te n -y e a r h isto ry ,
se rv in g firs t as a "rallying point w here w rite rs might clear th e ir minds
and pool th e ir ex p erien ces"; la te r, "re p re se n tin g W estern L iterature.,
p a st and p re s e n t," and so c a rry in g abroad "an international hum anist
warmth and c u rio sity in th e wake of th e in v ad in g arm ies"; an d , finally,
re tre a tin g "into an aesthetic puritanism which refu sed to be misled b y
optim istic estim ates of the b en efits which would accrue to a rt from a
welfare S tate or a divided E urope, or even from th e comings and goings
of air-m inded c u ltu re d iffu sio n ists." ^ T h roughout all th re e sta g es th e
m agazine m aintained an in tern atio n al flavor; in th e same issu e one might
fin d , side by sid e , S a rtre and O rw ell, e x p re ssin g v e ry d ifferen t views
on why men w rite, or Cecil B eaton's Libyan D iary and "Philippe G erb ier's
Notebook" on th e F rench R esistance Movement, o fferin g c o n tra stin g
p e rsp ec tiv e s on how men fig h t. In all th re e stag es Horizon serv ed as
a forum for th e new w riter as well as th e e stab lish ed , the experim ental
as well as th e trad itio n al, so th a t Connolly was p e rh a p s ju stified in
2
claiming in 1955 th a t th e re were few young a rtis ts "of whom the world
2
now buzzes whose work was not encouraged in H orizon’s a rt p a g e s."
The closing of such a m agazine, coming at th e end of a gradual re tre a t
into "aesth etic p u ritan ism ," was a more significant event th an was at
first recognized, p resag in g a reaction against experim entation in a r t,
and a revival of th e trad itio n al.
D uring th e 1950s, a group of w riters who became lead ers in a re tu rn
to trad itio n al poetic form s w ere labeled b y th e p re s s as "The Movement."
A lthough th e term had originally been applied to novelists as well, it
eventually came to stan d for th e p o etry and criticism of those poets who
appeared in R obert C onquest’s anthology New Lines (1956): K ingsley
Amis, Donald D avie, D. J . E n rig h t, Thom G unn, John Holloway,
E lizabeth Je n n in g s, Philip L ark in , John Wain, and C onquest him self. All
of th ese poets had begun w riting before 1950, b u t none had established
rep u tatio n s at th e time th e anthology was p u b lish ed . D uring th e 1950s,
th ro u g h th e ir p o e try , lite ra ry criticism , an d , in some c ase s, th e ir fiction,
th e y revealed a d ista ste fo r experim ental w ritin g ; in ste a d , th e y led a
revival of in te re s t in d istin ctly trad itio n al E nglish form s.
C ritics have often e ith e r overlooked th e im portance of th e trad itio n al
in E nglish a r t, o r ridiculed th e E nglishm an's d is tru s t of a n y th in g new o r
exceptional. (N athaniel H aw thorne was not th e only one to note th a t
"T he Englishm an likes to feel th e weight of all th e p a st on his shoulders.")
E n g lan d , to a g reat e x te n t, h as always looked to o th e r co u n tries for h e r
a v a n t-g a rd e movements (in d eed , the word itse lf is borrow ed from the
F re n c h ), and often such movements have been almost en tirely w ithout
perm anent influence on th e English aesth etic tra d itio n . Such was th e
3
case in th e lite ra tu re of th e 1950s, when th e technical innovations of the
g re a t m odernists (E liot, P ound, Joyce) w ere, for th e most p a rt, attacked
and th e n ig n o red . B ritish w rite rs in th e 1950s, while concerned with
contem porary problem s, tu rn e d th e ir backs on technical experim entation;
in ste a d , th ey a rg u e d th a t m odernist techniques had p roved to be a
d e a d -e n d , and th ey looked elsew here for in sp iratio n .
A num ber of c ritic s have commented unfav o rab ly on th is a tro p h y of
th e avant-garde. S tephen S p en d er, in T he S tru g g le o f th e M odern, spoke
for them when he extolled th e v irtu e s of th e g reat ex p erim en talists, whose
laudable aim "was to c re ate a lite ra tu re which im agined m odern life as a
w hole," and complained th a t "young w riters tu rn to more limited aims
3
th an those of in v en tin g im aginatively th e whole of m odern life ." Among
th e aesth etic evils of th e tim es he cited th e ad u lteratio n of p o e try by
p ro s e :
p o e try its e lf is invaded b y th e p ro se id ea, th e reaction ag ain st
what is dism issed as a period of ’ex p erim en t'. T he reaction is
called ’consolidation’ or ’c la rity '. B ut of course behind th ese
labels is th e assum ption th a t it is possible to be clear in a period
of confusion, th a t it is possible to be trad itio n al when th e line of
trad itio n has been fragm ented, th a t it is possible to consolidate
th e 'ex p erim en ts’ of Joyce. In d eed , it may be n e ce ssa ry to do
th ese th in g s , b u t only at th e p rice of re tre a tin g into conventional
aims and a ttitu d e s in o rd e r to relieve th e poet of th e p re s s u re of
th e whole of m odern iexperience>, which broke th ro u g h th e bounds
of conventions a generation ago. . . . The m odern movement
d isin te g ra te s with th e view th a t formal p o e try is an activ ity with
limits defined by intellectual criticism . T he p rose consciousness,
for th e time b ein g , triu m p h s .4
A nother well-known c ritic , Graham H ough, p u t it more su ccin ctly ; "There
5
is no a v a n t-g a rd e ."
It should be noted that even d u rin g the m odernist period the trad itio n al
4
forms of v e rse had n e v er really died in E ngland; such poets as R obert
G raves, John B etjem an, Walter de la M are, Roy F u ller, A. E. Housman,
and o th e rs , k e p t them alive. An im portant difference betw een th ese poets
and th e poets of th e 1950s, how ever, is th a t th e form er, for th e most
p a rt, m erely ig n o red th e ex p erim en talists, while th e la tte r co n sisten tly
opposed th e experim ental mode and a rg u e d , b o th in th e ir p o etry and in
th e ir criticism , for a re tu rn to trad itio n al form s.
The Movement poets had a num ber of reaso n s fo r th e ir rejection of
M odernism. A major criticism was th a t th e M odernist p o e ts, p a rticu la rly
E liot, in The Waste L an d , and P ound, in The C a n to s, h a d , b y disjunction
of sy n tax and d elib erate o b sc u rity of m eaning, alienated re a d e rs to th e
point w here th e y simply stopped read in g p o e try . G . S . F ra se r had
w arned against th is d a n g er when he w rote:
If ev ery poet chooses to w rite in a p riv a te lan g u ag e, p o etry
g radually communicates less and l e s s i t ceases to embody tru ly
hum an ex p erien ce; and th e criticism of p o e try , incidentally,
becomes im possible. L itera tu re becomes w hat conversation would
becom e, if conversation consisted e n tire ly of o u r sittin g down at
b re a k fa st to tell each o th e r o u r last n ig h t’s dream s. E verybody
talk s and nobody lis te n s .6
Philip L arkin summed up th e Movement position on th is alienation b y
say in g : "If a poet loses his p lea su re -see k in g audience, he has lost the
only audience w orth h av in g , for which th e d u tifu l mob th a t sig n s on
7
ev ery Septem ber is no s u b s titu te ."
Closely aligned to th is fear of alienating th e re a d e r was th e feeling
th a t th e M odernist poets had also refu sed to a d d re ss them selves to th e
problem s of ev ery d ay ex isten ce. In his C lark L ectures in 1952-53,
Bonamy D obree examined re a d e r ap ath y as a function of th e poet’s failure
to deal "with g rea t u n iv ersal them es th a t touch e v ery b o d y , and th a t all
8
can g ra s p ." T his ten d en cy he blam ed, in p a rt, on th e New C ritics and
th e ir obsession with close v e rb a l an aly sis, p aired with failure to u rg e
p o ets to stick to them es which a re most real to th e re a d e r. C iting
M arianne Moore as re p re se n ta tiv e , R obert C onquest su g g e ste d th a t many
B ritish re a d e rs found contem porary American poetic experim ents "quite
e x tra o rd in a rily alien" because
th e y are not w ritten in a public voice, as v irtu a lly all E nglish
p o e try , good or b a d , I th in k , is . T hey are in ’su b tle ’ (i. e.
odd) rhythm s and form s, o ff-b eat sy n ta x , th e vehicle for oblique
allusions and a so rt of ingrow n te n ta tiv e n e ss. I am not speaking
about com plexity of illu stratio n or e ru d ite n e ss of them e--one gets
those in Y eats, E liot, o r G raves; y et th e y are still w orking for
th e intelligent general p u b lic. Even with th e com parative o b sc u r
a n tists like Dylan Thomas o r William Empson a good p a rt of the
poem 's effo rt is in estab lish in g its cred en tials in term s of general
speech. The more oblique of th e Am ericans seem often to be
doing som ething d iffe re n t--tu rn in g simple them es into a cy p h er
w ritten in more o r less invisible i n k .9
Most of th e poets of th e 1950s, and c ertain ly those of th e Movement, felt
th a t th e poet needed to a d d re ss th e problem s of th e world in which he
found him self, and to a d d re ss those problem s fo rth rig h tly and h o n estly .
A nother argum ent advanced ag ain st m odernist p o e try was th a t it left
no firm ground upon which th e house of p o e try could be b u ilt. Graham
Hough noted th a t "T he g re a t lite ra ry fig u res of th e tw en ties. . . . had
nothing to leave. T h eir revolution was one of tech n iq u e and se n sib ility ,
not a movement of th e sp irit in any profound s e n s e . T h e poetic
movement of th e tw entieth c e n tu ry , unlike th e "m assive and inescapable
fact" of th e Romantic m ovem ent, was im perm anent, e v a n e sc e n t, leaving no
"legacy of feeling and ideas" on which succeeding g enerations could
6
build. T he d isc o n tin u ity , according to D . J . E n rig h t, resu lte d from
th e fact th a t while th e seminal works of Joyce and Eliot form ed th e b e g in
ning of a movement in tech n iq u e, th ey more closely resem bled th e end of
a movement as fa r as th o u g h t and feeling w ere concerned. Joyce, for
exam ple, as a n ovelist,
was a notable technical in n o v ato r, a c re a to r; in o th er re sp e c ts he
was a d e s tro y e r, as those who attem pted to follow his tech n iq u es
have found. The same can be said of T . S. Eliot in p o e try . . . .
Joyce and Eliot are u ndoubtably m asters: th e trouble lies in th e
fact th a t th ey a ttra c te d too many read y and naive p u p ils. Once
th e m aster h as dem onstrated th e ste rility and co rru p tio n of the
world in su ch b rillian tly p e rsu asiv e im agery, th e re is little to be
gained from w atching his pupils as th e y fastidiously pick up some
fragm ent o r o th e r and rem ark on th e fact th a t it is both broken
and d ir ty . . . . T he m odern movement began with a b rillian t
blaze. U nfortunately th e flames got out of co n tro l, and e v er since
we have been warm ing o u rselv es at th e e m b e rs.
E n rig h t's criticism applies with special force to th e p o e try w ritten in
th e 1940s by th e poets of th e "New A pocalypse" and those of th e Neo-
Romantic movement th a t followed. As early as 1947, G eoffrey Grigson
had complained th a t th e se d escen d an ts of modernism had d rifted into "a
rom ance w ithout reason . . . alto g eth er self-in d u lg en t and liq u e sc e n t,"
which contained nothing b u t
frig id itie s, all of them u n tru th s to n a tu re , th e em erald blood
jum ping in th e v e in s, th e angelic c o iffu re, dew with fe e t, veins
with e a rs , sinews made of gold, cheek w ounds like lan d scap es,
w rinkles falling like snow , the ro se w eeping in th e v e in s, th e
e a rth and p lan ts on top of th e dead lion's b r e a th . . . . it is th e
ubiq u ito u s confidence of the day th a t a n y th in g , any firs t im
p re ssio n , can be crammed into form less v e rse w ithout th e self-
discipline and self-criticism which a re th e sources of form; the
so u rces of th a t composition in w hich, H enry Jam es d eclared ,
e x ists th e "p rin cip les of health and sa fe ty .
7
G rigson went on to explain how th e neo-R om antics d iffer from e a rlie r, and
b e tte r , Romantic poets such as C oleridge. The ’’new" Romantic i s .’’deca
dent" because he d ra g s "the p a st for v e rb ia g e, for w ords-out of th e ir
se ttin g , n a tu re not at all, and th e self for d iso rd erly n o n se n se ," whereas
Coleridge was "a scientifically-m inded p o e t, curious about self, th e p a s t,
and th e given n a tu re aroun d him ," who did not "craw l like a spaniel" to
14
th e charm or m ystery he m ight find in n a tu ra l phenom ena. T he p o s t
m odernist scen e, noted E ric Gillet in a lec tu re delivered on May 13, 1954,
to th e Royal Society of L ite ra tu re , was ch aracterized by "tiresom e, tu rg id
o b sc u ra tio n ," with "far too many poets who had almost no th in g to say and
15
seemed to find th e g re a te st possible difficulty in say in g it. . . ." The
Movement a ttitu d e tow ard th e legacy of Eliot and Joyce was voiced by
John Wain:
T he tw enties has been an enorm ous g ate, opening to no th in g
special. . . . O ur whole society is su ffe rin g from a sensation
v e ry much like th e one you get if you b race y o u rse lf to jump
down ten sta irs and th e n find it was only one. And th is calls
into being a special kind of intellectual n u isan ce, th e c ru sad in g
m odernist, who is p re p a re d to jump down ten ste p s even if he
has to dig a p it to do i t . ^
The Movement poets felt th a t th is so rt of p o etry was easy to "fake"
and led to a g reat deal of "charlatanism " posing as p o e try . R obert
C onquest w rote, "A part from Y eats it is difficult to th in k of any big
poetic rep u tatio n in m odern tim es which has not been based at least p a rtly
17
on a gimmick." John Wain c o n cu rred :
In th e re c e n t p a s t, it was e n o u g h --o r at any ra te , it was widely
felt to be e n o u g h --if you were "m odern"; th a t is , if you welcomed
th e new ideas with a certain enthusiasm , and with w hatever
8
d egree of m isu n d erstan d in g and clum siness. . . . The war made
genuinely co n stru ctiv e th ro u g h t im possible, a n d 'a t the same time
c re ate d a demand for an acceptable s u b s titu te ; as a re s u lt, the
fo rties w ere th e heyday of ch arlatan ism .
Movement p o e ts, and many of th e ir contem poraries as well, held th is
pro cliv ity for gimmicks responsible for th e ru in of many prom ising p o e ts,
especially Dylan Thom as, who, according to Kingsley. Amis, "w asted his
talen t and in te g rity " try in g to sa tisfy re a d e rs who "h an k er a fte r something
19
sublim er th an th in k in g ." Labeling Thomas "th e last of th e capital-P
P o e ts," D. J . E n rig h t w rote:
We are told th a t Thomas won a uniquely la rg e audience for .
p o e try . B e tte r for him had he no audience at all th an th e kind
whose adm iration no sensible man could find o th e r th an g ro tesq u e
or else im p ertin en t, th e kind who salivate aesthetically to the
sound of jargon which Thomas as a poet was u n d e r th e n ecessity
of avoiding. . . . What could he do, in th e face of th is , for he
was a sen sitiv e m an, b u t get d ru n k and tr y to sta y d ru n k ? And
of co u rse act th e b u ffo o n --fo r, as K arl Shapiro points o u t, ’all
th e lite ra ry world loves a b u ffo o n .’^0
As might be ex p ected , th e re w ere no "gimmicks" in the p o e try of
C onquest, Wain, Amis or E n rig h t. T hese p o e ts, and th e o th ers who
sh ared Movement a ttitu d e s , deliberately excluded experim ental tech n iq u es
from th e ir w ritin g . T h eir sty les were p lain, th e ir v e rse forms conven
tional, th e ir diction colloquial, th e ir u se of sym bol, m etaphor, and imagery
so restrain ed it seemed h ard ly to exist at a ll. T he situations with which
th ey dealt in th e ir poems were u n ex cep tio n al, often commonplace; th e ir
approach was re a listic , even at times jo u rn alistic. T h eir tone was self
re s tra in e d , ironic, often flavored with a touch of (usually self-deprecating)
w it. C larity was highly p riz e d ; a n y th in g judged "eccentric" highly s u s
p e c t, for th e Movement poets ascrib ed to K ingsley Amis’ dictum th a t
"S tyle, p erso n al sty le , a d istin g u ish ed s ty le , u sually tu rn s out in practice
to mean a highly id iosyncratic noise level in th e w ritin g , with p len ty of
21
rum ble and wow from im agery, symbol and. diction. . . ."
T his reaction against the experim ental poets which led to th e creation
of Movement p o e try can be p ro p erly u n d ersto o d only if seen in th e la rg e r
context of changes tak in g place in all the lite ra ry a rts of the 1950s.
William Van O 'C onnor, for in sta n c e , w rote of th e Movement p o ets:
B roadly sp eak in g , th e ir w ritings refle ct a new social o rd e r in
E ngland, and imply th a t the p erio d of M odernism, as associated
with th e w orks of Y eats, Joyce, L aw rence, E liot, A uden and
D ylan Thomas is o v er. . . . T he in te n sitie s of m odern criticism ,
and th e experim ents th a t had been c a rrie d out in p o e try and
fiction seem to have come to an e n d . D ifferent critical values
have replaced th e old ones, and d ifferen t conventions replaced
those th a t had dom inated p o etry and fiction for about th irty
y e a rs . The evidence for th is is in th e criticism , p o e try , and
fiction of C onquest, E n rig h t, and th e o th e r s .22
Many o th er c ritic s agree with O’Connor th a t th e m ajority of th e w riters of
the 1950s tu rn e d against experim ental te c h n iq u e s, not only in p o e try , b u t
in fiction and dram a as well. Raymond Williams ch aracterized th e 1950s
"as a period of re tu rn to older form s, and to specifically E nglish form s,"
adding th a t
In th e novel th e re has been as sh arp a reaction ag ain st the
m ethods of V irginia Woolf as betw een th e w ars th e re was a
rea ctio n , led b y Woolf h e rs e lf, ag ain st th e "realism " of B ennett
o r Wells. In p o e try , th e re has been som ething of a conscious
re tu rn to native trad itio n s and m odels, and th is has had its
c o u n te rp a rt in a grow ing criticism , now almost fashionable, of
th e d isin te g ra tin g effects of Eliot and P ound. In th e dram a,
th e most widely su ccessfu l p la y s --o f O sb o rn e, W esker, and
D elaney--seem to re p re se n t a re tu rn to a kind of naturalism
which reach es back beyond 1914.22
T he critical climate in the early 1950s w as, th e n , not p a rticu la rly
10
recep tiv e to experim ental w ritin g ; in 1952, for exam ple, a w rite r for the
Times L itera ry Supplem ent summed up what seemed to be th e p rev ailin g
mood w ith: "E nough--som e would say more th an e n o u g h --h a s been
24
achieved in th e way of ex p erim en t." A lite ra ry w ant-ad (pace S pender)
d u rin g th ese y e a rs m ight easily have re a d : "W anted: p a ra p h ra se s of th e
real e x p erien c e."
T he trad itio n al novel, w ith its em phasis on c h a ra c te r, p lo t, and
conventional form , re tu rn e d in full fo rce. The favored se ttin g s might
have changed from th e draw ing rooms and c o u n try houses found in th e
novels of Powell and Waugh to th e g ru b b y flats and d ingy u rb a n s u r
ro u n d in g s of those b y Amis and Wain, b u t th e sty le was again in th e
trad itio n of th e eig h teen th and n in e te e n th -c e n tu ry n o v e lists, and th e
post-V ictorians such as Wells, B e n n e tt, and B u tle r. T he "experim ents"
of Joyce w ere neglected o r re p u d ia te d . W riters su ch as K ingsley Amis,
John Wain, Allan Sillitoe, John B ra in e , and many o th e rs consciously
rejected the experim ental mode; w rite rs of more estab lish ed re p u ta tio n --
A nthony Powell, Graham G reene, Evelyn W augh, and so on--sim ply con
tin u ed to ignore it. Even those w riters who w ished to w rite in a mildly
experim ental vein felt th e p re s s u re g en erated b y th is anti-experim ental
lite ra ry clim ate. A quick com parison, for exam ple, of Iris M urdoch's
e a rlie r w orks, U nder th e Net and Escape from th e E n c h a n te r, w ith some
o f th e la te r w orks, T he Sandcastle and The B ell, show how much of what
could be considered only mildly experim ental in h e r w ork has been
elim inated. G. S. F ra se r spoke approvingly of th e "developm ent" (a
significant word choice) "from h e r firs t two n o v els, which m ight broadly
be describ ed as loosely episodic, to h e r second tw o, which m ight broadly
11
be d escrib ed as tig h tly p la tte d ; more n arro w ly , th e y might be d escrib ed
25
as o p e n -s tru c tu re and c lo s e -stru c tu re n o v els." He goes on to note that
th e element of fa n ta sy , p re s e n t in th e firs t tw o, is a b sen t from the
second two novels.
F an tasy in th e novel was not much in dem and in th e 1950s. John
Holloway o ffered th is explanation:
In th e novel, we are re v e rtin g to o u r w ell-established n in etee n th
c e n tu ry p reo c cu p a tio n s: th e details of o u r provincial and local
life; o u r elaborate and m ultiple gradations of m oney, influence,
o r pow er; and what has p e rh a p s always been intim ately linked
with th e s e , o u r p ro cesses o f sexual selection. ^6
T hese n in e te e n th -c e n tu ry preoccupations in th e novels of th e 1950s led to
realistic style and concern w ith moral and social them es. T hickly docu
mented b a ck g ro u n d s w ere much in fav o r; as H arry Hopkins pointed o u t,
"th e trad itio n al fro n tie r betw een non-fiction and fiction was losing some
of its c la rity ," a n d , v alid atin g th e change in re a d e r a ttitu d e s , "Where
27
th e differen ce was le a st, th e sales w ere often h ig h e s t."
T he novels which em erged from th e experiences of World War II were
q u ite d ifferen t in subject m atter and approach from those which came out
of th e afterm ath of th e fir s t. A fter initial in difference in th e late 1940s,
th e re w as, in th e early 1950s, a su d d en in te re s t in w ar books, an
in te re s t which began with enorm ous sales of Eric Williams' T he Wooden
H o rse , and reached its peak w ith Nicholas M onsarrat’s T he C ruel Sea.
H ow ever,
For all th e ran g e and d ep th of experience of th e w ar y e a rs th e re
was little in th is immense o u tp u t th a t stru c k d eep , o r seriously
so u g h t to reflect th e psychological realities of th e w a r. . . . th e re
was little disillusion (adm ittedly th e re had been less illu sio n ),
12
little self-exam ination, few poetic u n d e rto n e s, o r indeed u n d e r
tones of any s o rt. T h ere was n e ith e r Romanticism nor Realism ;
ju s t, fo r th e most p a r t, m atter-o f-fac t d e ta ils, m arshalled in th e
so rt of b ris k , b ree zy n a rra tiv e th a t would have commended its e lf
to th e old B oy's Own P a p e r.2* *
One reason fo r th e rejection of a n y th in g th a t sm acked of "experim ent”
in th e novel was th a t many young w rite rs felt em phasis on technical
innovation had re su lte d in novels too fa r rem oved from th e concerns of
o rd in a ry life, and had th u s d riv en away th e n o v el-read in g public.
William C ooper, in an a ttac k on th e experim ental novel (u sin g R obbe-
G rillet's T he V oyeur as w hipping b o y ), pointed out th a t most people rea d
novels fo r th e s to ry , and th a t "a notable slump in novel read in g in th is
c o u n try o ccu rred in th e th irtie s , when th e E xperim ental W riters began
to elim inate th e s to r y ,” adding th a t "th e th irtie s were th e time when
in tellig en t men in th e world of a ffa irs began to w rite off th e lite ra ry
29
world as an 'enclave' given up to playing a p riv a te gam e." He ch arg ed
th a t The V oyeur
C o O n.c e m ira te s on visual se n se-im p ressio n s, on im pressions of
th e eye alone, in fact on im pressions of an eye so alone th a t you
feel th a t th e re 's no head at th e back of i t . It couldn't be more
av an t in th e g ard e of tw enty y e a rs ago. Also, I can tell y o u , in
case you h av en 't, read i t, it co u ld n 't be more tedious and a r i d . . .
W r i t i n g E xperim ental novels is a re tre a t from w riting about
M an-in-Society b y novelists who are unable to ad ju st o r reconcile
them selves to society; it is a re tre a t into w riting about sensations
of Man-Alone by people who cannot stom ach p re se n t day in d u s
tria lise d society. ®
T he c e n tra l c h a ra c te r of a 1950s novel on th e o th er hand was u sually
someone w ith problem s sim ilar to th o se of th e o rd in ary man. T he
se ttin g s m ight sometimes be exotic, b u t th e c h a ra c te rs were q u ietly
E nglish su b u rb a n , " f la t, fu n ctio n al, and relativ ely c la ssle ss--o r at
13
least 'en d less m iddle,"' and as Hopkins n o tes, ''v e ry close to th e tru e
c e n te r of postw ar B r ita in ... .n e a rly alw ays 'fundam entally d ecen t' people,
m aking m istakes p e rh a p s, b u t e arn estly doing th e ir d u ty as th e y saw i t ,
31
and somehow coming th ro u g h in th e e n d ." T he experim ental novel
became lined in th e public m ind, fairly o r u n fa irly , with an in d ifferen ce
to " d u ty ," and hence lay open to ch arg es like th e one leveled b y C ooper:
"If we have to fig h t again against h av in g B elsens and D achaus, how much
help are we going to get from people who alread y se ttled for existence
32
itse lf being a b s u rd ity , nau sea o r nothingness?"
In ste a d , as A ngus Wilson n o ted ,
Most of th e E nglish novelists (p e rh a p s all) who have a rriv e d
since th e end of th e w ar have reflected th e dom inant, politically
d e ta ch e d , social concerns of th e com m unity. T his has led to a
rev iv al of trad itio n al n in e te e n th -c e n tu ry form s. It has told
ag ain st experim ents in tech n iq u e and ag ain st exploration of
p erso n al se n sitiv ity . I belong to th is reaction m yself and I
believe th a t it has been a valuable one th a t has rev italized and
re sto re d th e novel fo rm .33
T his was a view sh a re d by many of th e y o u n g e r novelists of th e 1950s.
John Wain (who published his firs t novel, H u rry On Down, in 1953) w rote
th a t with th e publication of U lysses th e experim ental novel had ru n its
c o u rse, and th a t since th e n " th e re has been v e ry little experim ental
novel w riting th a t strik e s one as se rio u s, o r m otivated by a n y th in g more
34
th an fad d ish n ess o r th e irrita b le search fo r new gim m icks." K ingsley
Amis (w hose Lucky Jim became an in sta n t su ccess when it came out in
1954), ag reed th a t too often esoteric tech n iq u es w ere th e only th in g s
considered to be advances in w riting:
14
The idea about experim ent b ein g th e life-blood of th e E nglish
novel is one th a t dies h a rd . ’E x p erim e n t,1 in th is c o n te x t, boils
down p re tty re g u la rly to 'o b tru d e d o d d ity ,' w hether in construction
--m ultiple view points and su c h --o r in sty le ; it is not felt th a t
a d v en tu ro u sn e ss in su b je ct-m a tte r o r a ttitu d e o r tone really
co u n ts. Shift from one scene to th e next in m id -sen ten ce, cu t
down on v e rb s o r definite a rticle s , and you a re p u ttin g y o u rse lf
rig h t up in th e fo re fro n t, at any ra te in th e eyes of th o se who
w ere re a re d on Joyce and V irginia Woolf and take a jaundiced
view of more rec en t developm ents .35
It was tim e, Amis fe lt, for th e novelist to " tu rn his gifts of o rig in a lity , of
in tra n sig e n c e , and above all of p assio n , to th e world w here we all have to
„36
liv e ."
In th e th e a tre , th e situation was sim ilar. Two k in d s of dram a co n sis
te n tly dom inated th e sta g e: rev iv als of th e classics a n d , la te r, social
dram a w ritten b y th e so-called "A ngry Y oung M en." D uring th e w ar, th e
B ritish governm ent had p ro v id ed , for th e firs t tim e, d irec t financial
su p p o rt of th e a r ts . It e sta b lish e d , in 1940, th e Council for th e E n co u r
agem ent of Music and th e A rts (CEMA), and for th is p u rp o se Parliam ent
37
a p p ro p ria te d 50,000 p o u n d s. CEMA sp o n so red entertainm ent for both
tro o p s and civilians d u rin g th e w ar, and as m ight have been ex p ected in
a time of national c risis and u n d e r th e th re a t of im pending in v asio n , th e
plays p re se n te d w ere, for th e most p a rt, B ritish to th e co re. At th e end
of th e w ar, CEMA was reo rg an ized as an in d ep en d en t body which was
allocated governm ent fu n d s and was renam ed th e A rts Council. Its p u r
p o se, by royal c h a rte r, was "to prom ote g re a te r u n d e rsta n d in g of th e
a rts ; to raise sta n d a rd s of p ra c tic e ; and to make th e a rts more accessible
38
to th e p u b lic ." D ram atic experim entation was not a goal.
In th e y e a rs following th e w ar, th e "classic" p lay , p a rtic u la rly th e
E nglish cla ssic , gained in p o p u la rity , f irs t th ro u g h th e e ffo rts of th e Old
15
V ic, and th en th ro u g h th e grow ing prom inence of th e S tra tfo rd F estiv al,
u n til "B y 1951, it could be said th a t th e n atio n ’s classics w ere becoming
39
p o p u lar, with S hakespeare and Shaw ra tin g as b e st se lle rs. ’’ T his
tre n d did not meet with u n iv ersal approval; in fa c t, K enneth T ynan com
plained th a t ’’T h ere m ust b e , one feels, som ething profoundly w rong with
a th e a tre th a t b o a sts, in S ir L aurence O livier, th e b e st acto r alive, yet
40
can tem pt him into m odern d re s s only once in tw enty y e a r s .” In any
case, O livier was not tem pted to do an y th in g more ’’experim ental" th an to
ap p ear with Vivien Leigh in S h ak esp eare's A ntony and C leopatra and
Shaw 's C aesar and C leopatra on altern a te n ig h ts fo r th e 1951 F estival of
41
B rita in , or to ap p ear in "new" (i. e. Freudian) interpretations of Hamlet.
T h ere was an ab o rtiv e effo rt to revive th e concept of poetic dram a
which Eliot had b egun some fifteen y e a rs e arlie r with M urder in th e
C a th e d ra l. T he Cocktail P a r ty , a fte r its d eb u t at th e E d in b u rg h Festival
in 1949, had a su ccessfu l ru n in London d esp ite tep id rev iew s, and th e
42
hit of th e season was C h risto p h er F ry ’s T he L ady’s Not For B u rn in g .
However, su b seq u e n t v e rse dram as b y Eliot and F ry were not well-received,
and hopes for a ren aissan ce of poetic dram a quickly dw indled. John
43
Lehmann said th a t ”it seemed to be nipped b y a k in d of f ro s t” --th e
fro s t, no d o u b t, of a critical climate extrem ely suspicious of any u nusual
u se of language . The chill is reflected in th e w ords of Edward Lude-Smith,
who arg u ed th a t su ch plays w ere "extrem ely self-in d u lg en t about la n
g uage. ..th e y pall upon one te rrib ly , so th a t one loses o n e's ta ste for
th is p a rtic u la r k in d of v e rb a l show ing o f f ,” p e rh a p s because ’’th e au th o rs
of them have been much more fascin ated b y , and much more in love w ith,
44
th e w ords th e y were u sin g th an with th e c h a r a c t e r s ....”
16
T he a v a n t-g a rd e was re p re se n te d only b y plays im ported from the
C ontinent. T he plays of th e Francophone a b s u rd is ts --J e a n G enet,
E ugene Ionesco, Samuel B eckett (now w ritin g en tirely in F ren ch )--w o n
in tern atio n al acclaim , and in 1955 B e ck e tt's Waiting for Godot was
received en th u siastically in London. H ow ever, with th e exception of
45
Harold P in te r , no E nglish p lay w rig h ts followed th e lead of the a b su rd ists.
B ritish th e a tre did tak e a "new" tu rn in a ttitu d e in th e 1950s, b u t th e
w riting rem ained grounded in realism . In M ay, 1955, John O sborners
Look B ack in A n g e r, p re se n te d at th e Royal C ourt T h re a tre , b ro u g h t a
revival of public in te re s t in contem porary B ritish dram a. C oincident with
th e u n su ccessfu l H ungarian u p risin g , and followed sh o rtly by th e Suez
c ris is , th e play quickly found an audience whose fru stra tio n s m atched
46
th a t of its p ro ta g o n ist. O sborne continued to w rite essentially re a listic ,
d isc u rsiv e p la y s, as did most E nglish p lay w rig h ts of th e 1950s. T he plays
of th e "A ngry Y oung M en," along w ith musical com edies, made up th e
g re a te r p a rt of th e London th e a tre o fferin g s .
Even th e E nglish Stage Com pany, which in tro d u ced such ta le n ts as
B rendan B ehan and Shelagh D elaney, u sed conventional form s; in fa c t, it
was th e avowed aim of th a t th r e a tre 's d ire c to r , Joan Littlew ood, who often
re-w orked classic p lay s in o rd e r to give them "new" social and political
sla n ts, to create
a t h e a t r e to which th e w orking classes would go with th e same
re g u la rity and enthusiasm as to fun palaces o r penny arcad es .
T h u s she sought to embed w ithin a fram ew ork of tech n iq u es
borrow ed from popular en tertain m en ts some lastin g m essage o r
significant c o n te n t. She w ished h e r p ro d u ctio n s to be " g ra n d ,
sim ple, p a th e tic --b u t not g en teel, not p o e tic a l."4?
17
The move tow ard a rtistic retren ch m en t which ch aracterized all th e
lite ra ry a rts in E ngland in th e 1950s was accelerated b y rap id changes
tak in g place in th e p u b lish in g field. In 1950, as E ric H om burger has
n o ted , th e bottom d ropped out of th e p o e try m ark et. S uddenly even
estab lish ed poets found it difficult to get th e ir work into p r i n t , and
y o u n g er poets had p ractically no chance at all of giving th e ir work wide
circu latio n , even in collections; th e Penguin New W riting se rie s, which
had k ep t y o u n g er w riters in th e public eye all th ro u g h th e w ar y e a rs ,
48
folded a fte r fo rty num bers in 1950. All th a t rem ained for th e young
poet was publication in pam phlets p u t out by th e M arvell P re ss or th e
F an tasy P re s s --fo u r or six poems: , p a p e r b o u n d , for one shilling.
T he demise of th e P enguin New W riting se rie s reflected in some ways
th e in d ifferen ce of th e contem porary audience to any b u t th e lowest com
mon denom inator in any lite ra ry g e n re . L iteracy ra te s in th e 1950s were
much h ig h er th a n at any time in th e h isto ry of G reat B rita in , b u t the
q u ality of th a t literacy was much in q u estio n . A Gallup Poll in 1950
showed th a t 55% of those interview ed w ere c u rre n tly rea d in g a book
("m ostly fictio n "), and th e D enby S u rv ey in d icated th a t fiction accounted
for betw een 75% and 80% of th o se books loaned b y public lib ra rie s ; it
was generally acknow ledged by c ritic s, how ever, th a t th e caliber of th is
49
fiction was d istre ssin g ly low. R ichard H oggart w rote th a t most of it
ten d ed to be "almost e n tire ly sensational and fa n ta s y -p ro d u c in g .. .re a d in g
50
cu t off from any serious su g g estio n of resp o n sib ility and comm itm ent."
His attack on th e "sh in y barbarism " of th e "can d y -flo ss world" in which
most B ritons seemed determ ined to p a rticip ate was sav ag e, b u t, in
re tro s p e c t, accu rate:
18
If th e w ork of a good contem porary w rite r is b ro u g h t to th e notice
o f most a d u lts , th e y will not only find it difficult to follow his
approach to life, b u t w ilhreadily and firm ly assum e th a t he is ,
like th e r e s t, th o u g h in some stra n g e and unam using way th ey
have not got th e han g of, ’on th e m ake’, ’ju st w riting for the
m oney*... .T olerance is eq u ated with th e lack of any sta n d a rd s
o th e r th a n those which are so trite and vague as to be almost
in c a n ta to ry and of little p ractical u se ; any defense of any value
is an in stan ce of authoritarianism and h y p o c risy . 5 3 -
T he P enguin New W riting series was eventually re s u s c ita te d , b u t for a
num ber of y e a rs Penguin p u b lish ed only ’’classic’’ w orks, b io g rap h y , and
h isto ry . Even u n d e r its a u ste rity program , th e P enguin d ire c to r, Sir
William Em rys Williams, estim ated th a t th e "Penguin public" in B ritain in
52
th e mid-1950s was only about te n p e rc en t of th e population.
It would be a m istake to make too much of th e contem porary "popular"
ta s te s in lite ra tu re in explaining th e poetic doldrum s w hich b e set w riters
in th e early 1950s, for it is im possible at any time in h isto ry to claim for
p o e try a larg e p ercen tag e of any population. A nd, among th e young
poets of th e 1950s th e re was a feeling th a t some kind of audience, however
sm all, did e x is t. When th e P .E .N . C ongress m et, in 1956, to face th e
question "How should w rite rs reach th e new re a d e rs o f th e p re se n t-d a y
w orld?", th e se young w rite rs rejected th e answ er given by th e ir e ld e rs:
53
th a t "th ey ought not to dream of tr y in g ." B ritain had un d erg o n e t r e
mendous social changes in th e y e a rs following th e w ar, and an in tellig en t
read in g p u b lic, now draw n from a w ider stratu m of so ciety , would respond
to th e rig h t k in d of p o e try . T he phenom enal su ccess o f John B etjem an's
Collected Poems seemed to confirm th e ex isten ce of su ch an audience.
Within a few weeks of p u b lic atio n , thousand^ of copies w ere sold, and th e
p u b lish e rs w ere claim ing th e re had been nothing like it since Childe
19
54
Harold h it London. Most of th e yo u n g poets agreed with E lizabeth
Je n n in g s’ explanation of B etjem an's s u c c e s s :
In th e firs t place, Betjem an w rites in th e so rt of lite ra ry forms
(m any of them Romantic o r V ictorian in o rig in ) which most people
have become fam iliar with at school. His language is e n tirely
contem porary, c e rta in ly , b u t h is form s and cadences a re p ro
foundly trad itio n al; in th is m atter, in d eed , he w rites as if E zra
P o u n d , Eliot and A uden had n e v e r e x iste d . T he second reason
for th e su ccess of B etjem an's poems is th e fact th a t th e y deal
larg ely with su b jects which are peculiarly sym pathetic even to
u n lite ra ry r e a d e r s ; th e y are much concerned w ith lo v e , l u s t ,
religion and religious d o u b t. B ut th e y also have an edge of
hum our and sa tire so th a t how ever serio u s th e poet him self may
b e , and often is , his re a d e rs n e v e r need feel too involved o r too
anxious about th e so rt of dem ands that are being made upon them. 55
Within th e la rg e r stra te g y o f retren ch m en t which c h arac terize d all th e
lite ra ry a rts in E ngland d u rin g th e early 1950s, th e re w ere specific ta c ti
cal influences on th e Movement poets im portant to an u n d e rsta n d in g of
th e ir p o e try --sp e c ific w rite rs, p a st and p re s e n t, to whom th e y acknowl
edged a lite ra ry d e b t. As in d icated e a rlie r, th e Movement p o ets were
convinced th a t The Waste Land and T he Cantos had had a d isa stro u s
influence on im pressionable y o u n g er p o e ts, an influence th e y w ere con
sciously try in g to c o u n te ra c t. A lthough Donald Davie w rote in 1954 th a t
E zra Pound ''h a s influenced me more deeply and more co n stan tly th a n any
o th e r poet of th e p re se n t c e n tu ry ," he added th a t th e g reat in n o v ato rs of
th e 1920s had "seem ed to give a u th o rity for much sh e e r incom petence and
muddle in th e E nglish p o e try of ten o r fifteen y e a rs ago, which I read as
56
a y o u th ." A lthough th e Movement poets w ere not unanim ous in acknow l
ed g in g th e so u rces of poetic influence upon them , all except Davie
pointedly b y p assed th e experim ental w riters of th e 1920s. C ertainly none
b esid es D avie felt th a t Pound had influenced them in any o th e r way th a n
20
in a determ ination to go th e opposite d irec tio n , and to u rg e ev ery o n e else
to do th e same.
Among specific early in flu en ces, John Wain acknow ledged th e w ritin g s
of William Empson; in d ee d , his early v e rs e heavily reflects Em pson's in
te re s t in th e p o e try of argum entation. D avie was in flu en ced , at le a s t
tea ch n ica lly , b y th e poets of th e eig h teen th c e n tu ry , notably th e late
A u g u sta n s, to whom, among o th e rs , he paid homage in his firs t book of
criticism , P u rity of Diction in E nglish V erse. E lizabeth Jen n in g s pointed
to Edwin Muir as an early influence ; she sh a re d w ith G unn and Holloway
affinities for some of th e se v e n te e n th -c e n tu ry E nglish p o ets; th e influence
of R obert G raves can be seen edging out A uden' in th e work of C o n q u e st,
E n rig h t and Amis, especially in m atters of tone and a ttitu d e ; L arkin
acknow ledged th a t H ardy replaced A uden and Y eats early in his w ritin g .
By d ifferen t p a th s , all th e Movement poets a rriv e d at a common
philosophical c e n te r. None of th ese w rite rs w rote p o e try th a t su b scrib ed
to any cause o r system of th o u g h t. Even E lizabeth Je n n in g s, a Roman
C atholic, excluded any h in t of dogma in h e r w ork. If dogm atic, th e ir
p o e try took th e form of sta u n ch refu sal to em brace any one system'--political,
m etaphysical, o r a esth e tic . Many c ritic s , especially those raised on th e
"commitment" th a t c h arac terize d th e p o e try of th e 1930s (a t least in th e
p opular mind) , have been im p ressed , u sually n eg ativ ely , by th is lack of
57
commitment. A num ber of Movement poets felt th e need to comment on
th is aspect of th e ir w ork, and th e y defended it stro n g ly , a sse rtin g , along
with a num ber of th e ir contem poraries, th a t th e only real commitment a
w rite r has is to his w ork. K ingsley Amis' Fabian pam phlet Socialism and
th e In te lle c tu a ls, for exam ple, is an apologia fo r his political a p a th y .
21
T his re sista n c e to "causes” can be tra c e d to a suspicion th a t "commitment"
all too often led in th e p a st to totalitarianism . T hey cited th e political
naivete of P ound, L aw rence, and Y eats, and th e su scep tab ility to closed
system s which eventually led Eliot to Anglo - C atholicism . R obert C onquest
a rg u e d th a t th e effect of to talitarian th o u g h t on a rt is "ruinous" because
it sh ifts th e c e n tra l em phasis of th e work from "reality " to a system :
"T he c h a ra c te ristic failure of to ta litaria n th o u g h t is p e rh a p s th a t th e
p a rtic u la r is tre a te d m erely as a re p re se n ta tio n of th e g e n eral, an aspect
of a 'h ig h e r', ord ain ed p ro c e s s ," a sh ift which re q u ire s "conscious self-
53
exclusion from th e bulk of contem porary th o u g h t.” He continued:
Nowadays th is cannot be avoided: in tellig en t people can only
hold a closed system of ideas w ith th e c o n scio u sn ess, o r subcon
sc io u sn ess, th a t th e world at la rg e , w here free in q u iry holds
sw ay, re g a rd s them as ridiculous and w rong, and even th a t
definite re se a rc h e x ists which makes non sen se of th em . I would
call any system of ideas which is self-consciously complete and
final (ex cep t as to details to be discovered w ithin it or b y its own
m ethods), and w hich is re g a rd e d as suitable for im position 011 th e
whole hum an ra c e , as in emotional effect to ta lita ria n .
C onquest ag reed with Thom G unn's statem ent th a t
Any good w rite r is com m itted. He is committed to h is su b ject and
he is committed to him self. B ut his su b ject is finally going to be
one th a t C haucer or S tendhal w rote about and it is not v e ry im
p o rta n t w h eth er his approach is political o r n o t . . . .We do not feel
inclined to tre a t political beliefs as g eig er co u n te rs b y which we
can m easure th e significance of ev en ts as th e y o c cu r.
The Movement poets felt committed only to those th in g s th e y felt were
p ro p e rly th e concern of a rt; th e y k ep t system s of belief o th e r th a n th ese
61
out of th e ir p o e try .
The a ttitu d e of th e Movement poets was skeptical ra th e r th a n dogmatic,
22
and th e ir aversion to system s of th o u g h t and belief stemmed not only from
th e political disillusionm ent of th e tim es, b u t from w hat has been called
th e n a tu ra l ten d en cy of th e E nglishm an: em piricism . T hough it is more
difficult to a sse ss th e influence of th e p o p u lar philosophy of th e tim e,
Logical Positivism , on even th e p o e try of C onquest and Holloway (b o th of
whom read M odern G re ats--P h ilo so p h y , P olitics, and Economics— at Oxford),
no doubt all of th e Movement poets w ere influenced b y th e in te n se interest
in q u estio n s of language and m eaning c h a ra c te ristic of th e early 1950s, at
least to th e e x te n t of being fam iliar w ith some (A . J . A yer’s L an g u ag e,
Logic and T ru th in p a rtic u la r) of th e basic te x ts . D avie, fo r exam ple,
alludes to th e "cagey" E nglishm an, "G rounded and ground in logic
62
chopping sch o o ls," in "Mr S harp in F lo ren ce."
W hether as an outgrow th of lin g u istic philosophy, o r of a more
trad itio n al E nglish belief (via B acon-H obbes-L ocke-B erkeley-H um e) th a t
all know ledge is u n c e rta in , th e Movement poets sh a red a d is tru s t of
language its e lf, a belief th a t too often language is incapable of conveying
exactly th e p o e t’s m eaning. T his suspicion, in p a r t, led to th e ir insistence
upon discipline and c la rity in lan g u ag e. T he fear th a t lan g u ag e, if not
carefully co n tro lled , may get away from th e p o e t, perm eates D avie's
P u rity of Diction in E nglish V erse as well as many of th e critical w ritings
of th e o th e r Movement p o e ts .
T he re v e re n c e most of th e se poets felt fo r George Orwell should be
view ed w ithin th is fram ew ork. All too often c ritic s have assum ed th a t th is
adm iration, which was sh a red b y many you n g w rite rs in th e 1950s and
e x p re sse d in a stream of books about O rw ell's w ork, was political in
n a tu re ; h is famed "honesty" was p erceiv ed as th e rem orse of one who had
23
"seen th e light" long b efore th e re s t of th e B ritish in tellig en tsia became
disillusioned w ith Communism. While th is may in p a rt be tr u e , the
"honesty" for which Orwell was respected b y th e Movement poets lies in
his refu sal to take th e easy way o u t, to ig n o re u n p leasan t fa c ts, or to
accept block th in k in g , in e v ery dim ension of h is a rtistic confrontation
w ith th e w orld. K ingsley Amis w rote th a t O rw ell’s main concern was "to
analyse re a lity ," and th a t in sp ite of th e m an's fa u lts,
His influence seems in esca p ab le , so th a t any intellectuals who may
subm it to having a list of th e ir h ero es w rung from them are likely
to p u t him in th e firs t two o r th re e w hatever th e ir age (w ithin
re a so n ), w hatever th e ir o th er p re fe re n c e s and--m ore oddly at
firs t sig h t--w h a te v e r th e ir political affiliations, if an y . And if
th e y have n o n e . incidentally, th is is as much O rw ell's doing as
anyone e ls e 's .
T he Movement poets valued Orwell not so much for his ta le n ts as a
n o v elist, lite ra ry c ritic , o r political th in k e r, as for his determ ination to
face up to th e facts of th e hum an condition and to tell th e tr u th about
them in a b lu n t, clear sty le . M oreover, Orwell had learn ed to relate
effectively his ex p erien ces to an audience, as th e Movement poets hoped
to do, and he d isp lay ed , th ro u g h o u t his w ritin g , a deep affection for
E nglish life, even when he most criticized i t. He lived and w rote by a
principle which coincided exactly with a major prem ise of Movement p o e ts ,
a faith in th e value of common e x iste n ce , which Orwell e x p re sse d in his
review of C yril C onnolly's The Rock Pool: "T he fact to which we have
got to cling, as to a life -b e lt, is th a t it is^ possible to be a norm al decent
64
p erso n and y e t to be fully aliv e."
O rw ell's a tte n tiv e craftsm anship and d elib erately plain sty le was adm ired
by Movement poets; colloquial and conversational, h is sty le appears simple b u t
•24
re q u ire s discipline and co n cen tratio n . John Wain w rote of O rw ell's d e d i
cation to c la rity and p recision:
The almost ob sessiv e concern with tru th fu ln e s s , which is the major
c h a ra c te ristic of his w ork, sp ra n g p a rtly from h is u p b rin g in g . .
. . and p a rtly from his p a rticip atio n in active political life. . . .
From th is came not only th e num erous th eo retical statem en ts of
th e need for c la rity and h o n esty in th e u se of la n g u a g e , b u t also
th e p ractical exam ple, in th e style in which he w rote. It was
O rw ell's aim to forge a sty le in which it would be im possible to
tell lie s--w ith o u t, at any ra te , full consciousness th a t you were
tellin g th e m .65
T h is style in d u ces in th e re a d e r critical sc ru tin y of th e rational
s tru c tu re --th e v e ry resp o n se th e Movement p o ets sought in th e ir own
w ritin g s, both p o e try and p ro se . T he opening lines of a p a ra g ra p h by
O rw ell, as Irv in g Howe has n o ted , generally have a strong th r u s t ("Dickens
is one of those w riters who a re well w orth stealing") which boldly presents
66
th e re a d e r with th e major prem ise of th e case th a t follows. T h ere is no
s u b te rfu g e , no sleight of h a n d , no rh eto rica l foliage, behind which to
conceal rese rv a tio n s or exceptions as th e p a ra g ra p h evolves. T he end is
an e arn ed climax in which th e tension th a t has accum ulated th ro u g h o u t
th e piece cannot be released in a way unacceptable to th e a le rt rational
m ind. T hese end in g s often depend on what seems at tim es like a ra th e r
shocking red u ctio n of th e p rec ed in g arg u m en t, a Sw iftian tech n iq u e with
which many of th e Movement poets w ere fam iliar, and one which th ey
ad ap ted for u se in th e ir own poem s: a sum m ary conclusion th a t in a
fre q u e n tly hum orous way p u ts th e proposition in a new and u n ex p ected
lig h t, forcing th e re a d e r once again to te s t its v a lid ity .
The Movement poets saw in O rw ell's freedom from illusion a view in
harm ony w ith th e p rev ailin g e x iste n tia l c u rre n ts of th e p e rio d , rev ealed ,
25
for exam ple, in th e lines of an early poem.:
I know , riot as in b a rre n th o u g h t
B ut w ordlessly, as th e bones know ,
What q u en ch in g of ray b ra in , w hat n u m b n ess,'
Wait in th e d a rk g rav e w here I go. 67
The ex isten tial mood of th e tim es, p a rtly filtere d th ro u g h O rw ell, was to
have a stro n g b e a rin g on th e Movement p o e ts.
Given all th e se philosophical and aesth e tic common ro o ts, it is not
su rp risin g th a t C onquest should cite O rw ell’s influence in th e "Introduction”
to New L in e s, and also (allow ing th a t ”He too h ad la p se s, b u t h e claimed
no w in g s,”) to a s s e r t, in a poem pu b lish ed la te r th a t y e a r:
Moral and m ental glaciers m elting slig h tly
B e tra y th e influence of his warm in te n t.
B ecause he ta u g h t u s what th e actual m eant gg
T he vicious w in ter g rip s its p re y less tig h tly .
An invitable consequence of th is em pirical approach to rea lity b y th e
Movement poets was an aesth etic rejection of th e basic te n e ts of Roman-
69
ticism . Amis, sp eak in g fo r th e g ro u p , criticized K eats’s re p re se n ta tiv e
Romantic a ttitu d e tow ard th e w orld:
T he re s u lts of a n early inoculation w ith K eats may p rove an
obstacle to f u r th e r lite ra ry developm ent. If K eats is to be th e
ideal p o e t, Ideal p o e try too read ily becomes a tissu e of affectionate
d escrip tio n s of nice th in g s in te rru p te d by occasional com plaints
th a t th e real world is in su fficien tly p ro d u ctiv e of th o se nice
th in g s , and if any pupil should w onder what th e dales of A rcady
have got to do w ith him , th e n th e answ er is th a t p o e try deals with
’th e world of im agination’, i .e . not w ith th e real w o rld .70
In h e re n t in Rom anticism , too, th e Movement poets fe lt, was a d en ig ratio n
of h a rd work and c raftsm an sh ip . Amis continued: ’’T he divine m essage
26
was not to be tam pered w ith; p o e try m ust come as n a tu ra lly as leaves to
th e tr e e . K eats was too in tellig en t to believe th is all th e tim e, b u t when
he re v ise d his v e rse at all th e ta s k was alw ays scam ped and he n e v e r b e-
71
came a conscientious c ra ftsm a n .1 ’
In ste a d , Movement poets adm ired th e technical in g en u ity of W. H.
A uden (who rev ised p e rh a p s too m u ch ). In th e I n tro d u c tio n to New
L in e s, C onquest w rote: ’’who can escape th a t larg e and rational talen t?
B u t in h is case it is mainiy a m atter of technical in flu en ce. T h ere is
little of th e A uden ten d en cy to tu rn a b strac tio n s into beings in th e ir own
72
r i g h t .” T he technical influence C onquest spoke of was not one of
h av in g in v en ted new form s, b u t ra th e r th a t A uden drew on given forms
(th o u g h th e y ran g e d from m usic-hall songs to A nglo-Saxon alliterativ e
v e rs e , complete w ith k e n n in g s ), u sin g any num ber of m etrical p a tte rn s ,
stan za form s , and rhym e schem es . M oreover , A uden was a poet o f ideas
(who accused Y eats of p re fe rrin g good lines to good notions) , and his
fondness for exposing deception th ro u g h pow erfully p e rsu asiv e v e rse was
sh a re d b y Movement p o e ts. Philip L arkin made note of th is in a review of
T he Shield of Achilles (in which he sees evidence of w hat he calls A uden’s
’’decline”) , say in g th a t "A u den's prim e g ift was his trem endous pow er to
convince. He had th e talen t for finding im ages, rhythm s and p h ra se s
th a t com pletely won th e re a d e r’s confidence, no m atter how little was
otherw ise conceded ; he had th e knack of w riting lines th a t seem ed to
embody th e p re c ise st ex p ressio n of th e most im portant m atter, how ever
73
u n su scep tib le to p a ra p h ra s e . ”
T he Movement poets w ere also influenced by th e w orks of William
Em pson. In h is c riticism , Empson s tre s s e d close sc ru tin y of th e w ords
27
used in a poem, em phasizing p a rtic u la rly th e in ten tio n al am biguities which
give th e poem ric h n e ss and d e p th . His own p o e try is filled with su ch in
tentional am biguities (w hat else from th e a u th o r of Seven Kinds of
A m biguity? ) , b u t it is p o e try th a t is also logical, d isc u rsiv e , and ra re ly
sym bolic. From Empson th e Movement poets d eriv ed th e ir in te re s t in
"arg u fy in g in p o e try ," which W alter Allen d e sc rib e s as "p o etry as a rg u
m ent, as logical d isc o u rse , w hich, as soon as he [Empson] m entions it,
you realize is ex actly th e so rt of p o e try he him self h as always mainly
74
w ritte n ." T h ere w as, as Wain pointed o u t, an "Empson boom" in th e
1950s , and while th e "puzzle" poem was what attracted many p oets (ev en
Wain at firs t) , th e Movement poets took in stea d from Empson th e k ey idea
of poem as arg u m en t--arg u m en t in s tru c tu ra l, ra th e r th a n polemical,
75
te rm s.
T h is, finally, is th e common and crucial fac to r which bound th ese
poets to g e th e r: th e s tru c tu ra l "argum ent" of th e ir poem s, argum ent
which grew out of, b u t ro se above, th e tim es in which th e y w ere p ro
d u ced , argum ents w hich, wliile "trad itio n al" in form , w ere w ritten along
new lines of th o u g h t.
28
N otes to C h a p te r I
^ C yril C onnolly, The Golden Horizon (New Y ork: U n iv ersity B ooks,
1955), p p . ix -x .
2
C onnolly, p . xiii.
3
S tep h en S p e n d e r, T he S tru g g le o f th e M odern (B erk eley : The
U n iv ersity of C alifornia P re s s , 1968), p . 130.
^ S p e n d e r, p p . 130-132.
5
Graham H ough, R eflections on a L ite ra ry Revolution (W ashington,
D . C .: Catholic U n iv ersity of Am erica P re s s , 1960) , p . 4.
g
G. S . F ra s e r, Post-W ar T re n d s in E nglish L ite ra tu re (T okyo: T he
H okuseido P re s s , 1950) , p . 31.
^ Philip L ark in , ’’T he P leasu re P rin c ip le ,” re v , of "A M ortal P itch," by
V ernon Scannell; "D evil, M aggot, and S o n ,” by C h risto p h er L ogue; and
"U n c ertain ties, and O th er Poem s," b y John P re s s , L isten 2, No. 3 (1957),
p . 29.
Q
Bonamy D obree, "Public T hem es," in his T he B roken C istern (London,
Cohen and W est, 1954), p . 5.
9
R obert C o n q u est, "In terc o n tin en ta l M issiles," re v . of Like a B ulw ark,
b y M arianne Moore, The S p e c ta to r, 11 O ct. 1957, p . 448.
^ H o u g h , p p . 1 1 0 - 1 1 1 .
H ough, p . 110.
12
D. J . E n rig h t, "P oetry in E ngland T o d ay ," Poets of th e lOSO’s ,
2nd. e d . (1955; r p t. Tokyo: K enkyusha L t d ., 1958), p p . 1-2.
13
G eoffrey G rigson, "How Much Me Now Y our A crobatics A m aze," in
his T he H arp of Aeolus (L ondon: G eorge R outledge and S ons, L td .,
1947), p p . 151-153.
14
G rigson, p . 153.
15
E ric G illet, "T he E nglish L ite ra ry S cene, 1954," E ssays By D ivers
H a n d s, 30 (1960) , p . 135. -
29
1 fi
John Wain, "Along th e T ig h tro p e ," in D eclaratio n , e d . Tom
M aschler (New Y ork: E. P . D u tto n , 1958), p . 77.
17
C o n q u est, "Rhyme and R eason," re v . of T he In h e rito rs : Poems
1948-1955, b y R ichard C h u rc h , T he S p e c ta to r, 5 A pril 1957, p . 456.
1 Q
Wain, "Along th e T ig h tro p e ," p . 78.
19
K ingsley Amis, "Thomas th e R hym er," re v . of A P ro sp ect of th e
S ea, b y Dylan Thom as, T he S p e c ta to r, 12 A ugust 1955, p . 227.
20
E n rig h t, "Once Below a T im e," re v . of D ylan Thom as: T he Legend
and th e P o e t, e d . b y E. W. T edlock, T he S p e c ta to r, 21 O ct. 1960, p . 607.
21
Amis, "She Was a Child and I Was a C h ild ," re v . of Lolita, by
Vladim ar N abokov, T he S p e c ta to r, 6 . Nov. 1959, p . 431.
22
William Van O 'C onnor, The New U n iv ersity Wits and th e End of
Modernism (C arbondale: S o u th ern Illinois U. P re s s , 1963), p . 148.
23
Raymond Williams, "A C hanging Social H istory of E nglish W riting,"
A udience, 8 (W inter 1961), p . 76.
24
"T he E nglish and th e Am erican N ovel," Times L itera ry Supplem ent,
29 A ug. 1952, p . 12.
26
F ra s e r, "Iris M urdoch: The S olidarity of th e N orm al," in I n te r
national L ite ra ry A nnual No. 2 , e d . John Wain (New Y ork: C riterion
B ooks, 1959), p . 38.
26
John Holloway, "T ank in th e S talls: Notes on th e 'School of A nger,'"
H udson R eview , 10 (A utum n 1957), p . 429.
27
H arry H opkins, T he New Look: A Social H istory of th e F orties and
F ifties in B ritain (B oston: H oughton M ifflin, 1964), p . 241.
OO
H opkins, p . 241.
29
William C ooper, "R eflections on Some A spects of th e E xperim ental
N ovel," in In tern a tio n al L ite ra ry A nnual No. 2, p . 33.
30
C ooper, p p . 30-33.
^ H opkins, p p . 242-243.
32
C ooper, p . 33.
33
A ngus Wilson, "T he E nglish N ovel," London M agazine, 5, No. 44
(1958), p . 32.
30
34
Wain, "Form s in C ontem porary L ite ra tu re ," in his E ssay s on L ite r
a tu re and Ideas (London: Macmillan, 1963), p . 50.
35
Amis, "F resh Winds from th e W est," re v . of five novels b y West
Indian and Indian a u th o rs , T he S p e c ta to r, 2 May 1958, p . 565.
36
Amis, "A Man on R ockall," r e v . of P in ch er M artin , b y William
G olding, T he S p e c ta to r, 9 Nov. 1956, p . 656.
37
O scar.G . B ro ck ett and R obert R . F in dlay, C e n tu ry of Innovation
(Englewood C liffs, N. J . : P ren tice-H all, 1973), p . 536.
q o
B ro ck ett and F indlay, p . 536.
39
Sheldon C heney, T he T h ea tre (London: Longm ans, G reen and
C o ., 1958), p . 567.
40
K enneth T y n an , "T h ea tre and L iv in g ," in D eclaratio n , p . 92.
41
Anne E dw ards, Vivien Leigh (New Y ork: Simon and S c h u ste r,
1977), p . 182.
49
B ro ck ett and F indlay, p . 544.
43
John Lehm ann, in T he Poet S p e a k s, ed . P e te r O rr (London:
R outledge and Kegan P aul, 1966), p . 115.
44
E dw ard L ueie-Sm ith, in T he Poet S p e a k s, p . 127.
45
E ven P in te r's plays of th is p eriod are always g ro u n d ed in o rd in ary
re a lity ; almost e v e ry th in g th a t h ap p en s in plays su ch as T he B irth d ay
P a rty (1958) lies w ithin th e realm of ev ery d ay p o ssib ility . R ealistic action
p a sse s o v er into fan ta sy o r symbolism b u t th ese moments are tre a te d as
projections of th e c h a ra c te rs ' dream s o r an x ie tie s. Not u n til T he C are
ta k e rs (1960) does P in te r m erge th e tw o.
46
Some m ight quibble at a scrib in g th is term to Jimmy P o rte r; d u rin g
one p erform ance, when K enneth Haigh was d elivering th e now famous
speech b eg in n in g "T h ere a re n 't any good, b rav e cau ses left . . . . " a t
least one member of th e audience was n early overcome with a d esire to
jump up and shout "What about Suez?" See L indsay A n d erso n 's "Get Out
and P u sh !" in D eclaration for fu rth e r d iscu ssio n .
47
B ro ck ett and F indlay , p . 621.
48
E ric H om burger, T he A rt of th e Real: P o etry in E ngland and
America (New Y ork: Rowman, 1977), p . 69.
49
R ichard H o ggart, T he U ses of L iteracy (London: C hatto and
W indus, 1957), p . 271.
31
r:n
Hoggart, p. 191.
^ H o ggart, p p . 197-99i
5?
H opkins, p . 247.
H opkins, p p . 236-37.
54
E lizabeth Je n n in g s, P o etry T oday (London: Longm ans, G reen and
C o ., 1961), p . 29.
55
Je n n in g s, P o etry T o d ay , p . 29. '
56
Donald D avie, in P oets of th e 1950's, p . 47.
57
Samuel H ynes, T he A uden G eneration (New Y ork: V iking P re s s ,
1977) d isab u ses u s of th e all too common notion th a t th e "th irtie s" poets
can be lum ped to g e th e r in th is way.
58
C o n q u est, "T he A rt of th e E nem y," E ssay s in C riticism , 7, No. 1
(1957), p . 43.
C o n q u est, "A rt of th e E nem y," p p . 43-44.
0 Q
C o n q u est, "Commitment and th e W riter," in In tern atio n al L itera ry
A nnual No. 1 , e d . John Wain (London: John C ald er, 1958), p . 15.
61
T he polemic w ritin g s of C onquest d u rin g th is p eriod appeared
u n d e r pseudonym s: th e essa y s u n d e r Jo h n , and th e n (w hen a "real"
John A rden began to p u b lish v e rse ) J . E . M. A rd en ; th e political v e rse
u n d e r T ed P a u k e r. C onquest continued th is p ractice u n til 17 May 1974,
when he p u b lish ed th e poem "Get L ost, 'G ulag A rchipelago'!" in th e Times
L itera ry Supplem ent u n d e r h is own nam e. It would be f a ir , th e n , to
a sse rt th a t his d elib erate sep aratio n of politics and a rt was th e re s u lt of
aesth etic beliefs ra th e r th a n Foreign Office protocol, for he left th e
Foreign Office in 1956.
62
D avie, "Mr S harp in F lo ren ce," A W inter T alent and O th er Poems
(London: R outledge and Kegan Paul, 1957), p . 36.
63
Amis, "The Road to A irstrip O n e," re v . of A S tu d y of George
O rw ell, b y C h risto p h e r Hollis, T he S p e c ta to r, 31 A ug. 1956, p . 292.
64
G eorge O rw ell, re v . of The Rock Pool, b y C yril Connolly, New
E nglish W eekly, 23 Ju ly 1936; r p t. in T he Collected E ssa y s, Journalism
and L e tte rs of G eorge O rw ell, ed . Sonia Orwell and Ian A ngus (New Y ork:
H arco u rt, B race and W orld, 1968), p . 226.
32
65
Wain, "O rw ell,” re v . of George O rw ell, b y L aurence B ra n d e r, T he
S p e c ta to r, 19 N o v . 1954, p . 632.
66
Irving Howe, The Decline of th e New (New Y ork: H a rc o u rt, B race
and W orld, 1970), p p . 277-278.
^ O rw ell, "Poem ," A delphi, M arch 1933; r p t . in T he C ollected Essays,
p . 118.
^ C o n q u est, "G eorge O rw ell," T he L is te n e r, 27 S ep t. 1956, p . 465.
69
O f th e Romantic p o e ts, Shelley and K eats tak e th e most ab u se from
th e Movement p o e ts; C oleridge and B y ro n , how ever, a re generally a p p re
c ia te d . C o n q u est, in fa c t, in th e In tro d u ctio n to New L in e s, re fe rs to
C oleridge's concern with sy n ta ctic and sem antic problem s as p a rt of poetic
com m unication; both G u n n 'an d C onquest hav e w ritten poems about B y ro n .
70
Amis, "T he Poet and th e D ream er," re v . of K eats, b y Sidney
C olvin, T he S p e c ta to r, 22 Nov. 1957, p . 699.
71
Amis, "T he Poet and th e D ream er," p . -699.
72
C o n q u est, In tro d . to New L ines (L ondon: Macmillan, 1956), pp..
x v ii-x v iii. ' '
^ L ark in , "No More F e v e r," re v . of T he Shield of A chilles, b y W. H.
A uden, L is te n , 2, No. 1 (1956), p p . 24-25.
74
W alter A llen, "London L ite ra ry L e tte r," New Y ork Times Book
R eview , 11 S ep t. 1963, p . 39.
75
Wain, "T h ree C ontem porary P o e ts," m his Prelim inary E ssays
(London: Macmillan, 1957), p . 159. See also C o n q u est's In tro d u ctio n to
New L in e s, w here he n o tes th a t while " th is was not an un reaso n ab le way
of le a rn in g th e firs t le s s o n --th a t p o e try n eed s an in tellectu al b ack b o n e,"
it was u n fo rtu n a te th a t "it became m erely a fashionable form ula" (p . x v i) .
33
I I . Movement S tra te g ie s
When is a movement not a movement? C ertain ly all th e poets who b e a r
th e stigm ata of "T he Movement" d eny th a t su ch a movement e x iste d , even
b rie fly . T he e d ito rs of th e collections which came to be called "Movement"
anthologies have said they never intended to b egin a m ovement. Most c ritic s
who w rite about "The Movement" v igorously deny its e x isten ce, th e n find
them selves u sin g th e lab el, o sten sib ly only as a h an d y way of abbreviating
"C onquest e t. a l . ," b u t actually w ith a clear im plication th a t th e label
d elin eates som ething real and d isc re te . T his co n trad ictio n is ev id en t in
E lizabeth Je n n in g s' P o etry T o d ay ; she w rites th a t a num ber of poets
(h e rs e lf in clu d ed ) "w ere h u stled into a g roup often v e ry much a g ain st
th e wills of th e poets them selves" and ad d s th a t v e ry little became of "th e
so-called Movement" as a m ovem ent.^- She pro ceed s th e n , in an e ssa y th a t
ru n s n e a rly a th ird of th e book, to d isc u ss T he Movement, g rad u ally
ex p an d in g its m eaning to em brace not ju s t a group of p o e ts, b u t a cohesive
body o f a rtis tic p rin c ip le s. T his schizoid a ttitu d e is a staple of c ritical
com m entary of th e tim es about th e group of p o ets who w ere re p re se n te d
in C o n q u est's anthology: th e y w e ren 't a m ovem ent, th e y had n o th in g in
common except sh a re d d islik es, n o th in g came of them as a g ro u p , and y et
anyone who h as w ritten about B ritish p o e try in th e 1950s, th e n o r now ,
u se s th e term and is unable to d iscu ss th e period w ithout i t. Furtherm ore,
while no one claims to know w hat it is , th e y all claim to be able to id en tify
a Movement poem on s ig h t.
34
T he assum ption th a t th e Movement n e v e r really e x iste d , ex cep t as a
"PR job" owes its hold on contem porary critical th o u g h t to an essay
w ritten b y Ian Hamilton fo r th e New Statesm an in 1971. In "T he Making
of th e M ovem ent," Ham ilton, who had th ro u g h th e y e a rs co n sisten tly
w ritte n u n fav o rab le review s of th e individual w orks of most of th e poets
in th e g ro u p , aw ards th e Movement a
d istin c tiv e niche in th e h isto ry of p u b lic ity --it was a ta k e -o v e r
b id and it b rillian tly su cceed ed . In d eed , b y th e time New Lines
actu ally came out . . . it had ev id en tly succeeded all too well.
Almost e v ery young u n iv e rs ity poet had become a M ovem enteer.
. . . T he ta le n tle ss had been given a v e rs e -re c ip e only slig h tly
more difficult to follow th a n th a t h an d ed out b y Tam bim uttu
fifteen y e a rs e a rlie r.
T his view of Movement w riting as fill-in -th e -b la h k s p o e try is th e one all
too often ta k e n ; in fa c t, th e c h arg e th a t New Lines b re d m indless d is
ciples sounds a g re a t deal like th e one Movement poets made a g ain st th e
m o d ern ists. Hamilton was extrem ely hostile to th e Movement p o e ts, and it
is not su rp ris in g th a t he should p re fe r to assum e th a t th e Movement was
h atch ed in th e a d v e rtisin g offices of T he S p e c ta to r. (T he same charge
has fre q u e n tly been made a g ain st Hamilton him self, b ecau se of th e p u b li
city cam paigns which accom panied th e lau n ch in g of a num ber o f poets in
his own jo u rn al, T he R eview .) What is s u rp ris in g , how ever, is th a t his
view h as come to be g en erally accepted b y c ritic s . B lake M orrison, com
m enting on th e view of th e Movement as a m ere p u b licity s tu n t, w rites:
T his is s u rp ris in g as well as w o rry in g , for th e re seems to be at
th e same time a v e ry general u n d e rsta n d in g of what is m eant by
a 'M ovement’ poem , o r to n e, o r even a ttitu d e . 'M ovem ent', in
fa c t, has b eg u n to tak e on an almost adjectival q u ality in recen t
y e a rs . We can all recognize a 'Movement' se n sib ility , and can all
invoke th e a p p ro p ria te ’ism s'--sk ep ticism , rationalism , empiricism,
35
anti-R om anticism , academ icism -cum -philistinism --w hen d escrib in g
i t. And th is seem s to weigh ag ain st th e 'co n sp iracy ' th e o ry : .-if
th e Movement was m erely a sp u r-o f-th e-m o m en t invention in 1954
why has th e sen sib ility associated with it come to be so pervasively
fe lt? 3
In d ee d , th e influence of th e Movement was and continues to be
"p erv asiv ely fe lt," y et c ritic s have as y et to rea d th e p o e try closely and
4
to account for its im pact. A ccounts of how th e Movement b eg an a re more
p len tifu l.^
In th e m id-1950s, two anthologies ap p eared which w ere to sp a rk off
one of th e most h eated lite ra ry d eb ates of th e p a st tw en ty y e a rs . D . J .
E n rig h t's Poets of th e 1950's (1955) was followed sh o rtly b y R obert
C o n q u est's anthology New Lines (1956). B oth anthologies had in common
eig h t p o ets: K ingsley Amis, R obert C o n q u est, Donald D avie, D . J .
E n rig h t, John Holloway, E lizabeth Je n n in g s, Philip L ark in , and John Wain.
C o n q u est's anthology h a d , in ad d itio n , th e work of Thom G unn; E n rig h t
la te r rem arked th a t he had not included G unn in his anthology only
b ecau se he had not at th a t time re a d any of his p o e try . U nder th e c ir
cu m stan ces, th e reaso n s for th e sim ilarity betw een th e lists of a u th o rs
was not rem arkable, and c ertain ly n o t, as some c ritic s la te r su g g e ste d ,
th e re s u lt of collusion in a move to "take over" B ritish p o e try . E n rig h t
was teach in g in Jap an when he firs t began to assem ble his anthology, and
he w rote to R obert C onquest for advice; he received a list of p o ssib ilities,
no m ore, and added some of them to his initial list of p o e ts. L ater he
6
rem ark ed : "Who else, in th a t g en eratio n , is th e re to choose?" C onquest
seemed to have felt th e same w ay. T he anthologies contain few of th e
same poems (of 140, only 13 a re to be found in each) ; n e ith e r ed ito r
36
chose th e poems on any b asis o th e r th a n p erso n al p re fe re n c e .
Yet w ith th e publication of th ese anthologies, a movement b eg an ; in
fa c t, it seems to have had its roots even e a rlie r, in an a rticle b y A nthony
H artley in T he S p ectato r title d "Poets of th e F iftie s." In th is a rtic le ,
H artley , d isc u ssin g th e w ork of Donald D avie, Thom G unn, John Wain,
K ingsley Amis, G eorge M acBeth, Philip O akes, and Philip L ark in ,
announced: "What is c e rta in is th a t, for b e tte r or for w orse, we a re now
in th e p resen c e of th e only considerable movement in E nglish p o e try since
7
th e T h irtie s ," In O cto b er, an anonym ous article en title d "In th e Move
m ent" u p p e r-c a se d th e le tte r "M" and th e a u th o r rem arked: "sig n s are
g
m ultiplying th a t su ch a th in g as a movement is , once ag ain , em erg in g ."
The au th o r salu ted "th is new Movement" for " its m etaphysical w it, its
g litte rin g in te lle ctu ality , its rich Em psonian am b ig u ities," and went on
to say:
The M ovement, as well as b ein g a n ti-p h o n e y , is an ti-w e t; s k e p
tical , r o b u s t, iro n ic , p re p a re d to be as com fortable as possible
in a w icked, comm ercial, th re a te n e d w orld which d o e sn 't look,
anyw ay, as if i t's going to be ch anged much b y a couple of h a n d
fuls of you n g E nglish w rite rs. . . . Small as it is , it is n ev erth e
less a p a rt of th e movement of th a t tid e which is pulling us
th ro u g h th e F ifties and tow ards th e S ix ties.
T h is a rticle provoked a num ber of le tte rs to th e e d ito r, b u t th e real
d eb ate did not b re a k out u n til th e em ergence of th e E n rig h t and C onquest
anthologies, which elicited num erous rev iew s, com m entaries and exchanges
of co rresp o n d en ce. Most of th e c o n tro v e rsy c e n te re d on th e New Lines
antholo gy, because of its more p a rtic u la r in tro d u c tio n , and most of th e
d e tra c to rs took th e view th a t C o n q u est's In tro d u ctio n p ro v ed th e poets
had n o th in g more in common th a n an aversion to th e same th in g s . The
37
p assag e which drew most of th e fire was th e following:
It will be seen at once th a t th e se poets doe not have as much in
common as th ey would if th e y w ere a group of d o ctrin e-sad d led
w riters form ing a definite school complete w ith program m e and
r u le s . What th ey do have in common is p e rh a p s , at its lo w est, ^
little more th a n a neg ativ e determ ination to avoid bad p rin c ip le s.
Most c ritic s glossed over C o n q u est's real p u rp o se : to draw atten tio n to
contem porary neglect of "th e p rin cip le th a t p o e try is w ritten b y and for
th e whole m an, in te lle c t, em otions, se n se s, and a ll. " ^ 1 C onquest did not
den y th e so-called "D ionysian" elem ent of p o e try , he m erely felt it should
be p a r t, ra th e r th an all, of th e poem. And though in te lle c t, long exiled,
should be re tu rn e d to its th ro n e , th e p o e try of New Lines
s u b m itiS to no g re a t system s of th eo retical c o n stru c ts nor
agglom erations of unconscious commands. It is free from both
m ystical and logical com pulsions a n d --lik e m odern p h ilo so p h y --
is em pirical in its a ttitu d e to all th a t comes. T his rev e ren c e for
th e real p erso n o r event is , in d ee d , a p a rt of th e g en eral in te l
lectual ambience (in so fa r as th a t is not blind or re tro g re s siv e )
of o u r tim e. ^2
C onquest went on to cite O rw ell, "w ith his principle of re a l, r a th e r th an
ideological, h o n e sty ," as a major influence on th e p o e try , and to rem ark
th a t, as a co n seq u en ce, th e anthology dem onstrated "a re fu sa l to abandon
a rational s tru c tu re and com prehensible lan g u ag e, even when th e v e rse is
13
most h ighly ch arg ed w ith sen su o u s o r emotional in te n t."
D espite th e em phatic q u alifiers given in th e e ssa y , most c ritic s
focused on C o n q u est's in sisten c e th a t a poem have "an in tellectu al b a ck
b o n e ," overlooking his second req u irem en t: " th e flesh of hum anity,
14
iro n y , p assio n , o r sa n ity ." Review s of th e v e rse in th e anthology
called i t , v a rio u sly , " a rid ," "d o n n ish ," and "provincial" (m uch was made
38
of th e fact th a t six of th e nine w ere u n iv e rs ity le c tu re rs , and two more
w ere lib ra ria n s in "provincial" u n iv e rs itie s ). It was also labeled "insular,"
" fla t," "tim id," "p h ilistin e ," "p a ssio n le ss," " triv ia l," "slic k ," and "self-
co n scio u s." Above all, th e New Lines poems w ere not NEW. C harles
Tomlinson com plained:
T he lack of ex p erien ce in , I th in k , all of M r. C on q u est’s p o ets is
th e ir general failure to see th in g s anew , to re g is te r any nouveau
fris s o n . . . .T h ey show a sin g u lar w ant of th e vital aw areness of
the continuum o utside them selves, o r th e m ystery bodied ov er
ag ain st them in th e c re ate d u n iv e rs e , which th e y fail to experience
w ith any d eg ree of sh a rp n e ss o r to em body w ith any in s tre s s or
sen su o u s d e p th .15
Much was made of th e Movement p o ets' fondness for w riting in " s tric t
iambic p en tam eters and in th e tig h te st of s ta n z a s , not to m ention su ch
16
ancient and extrem ely artificial form s as th e villanelle and te rz a rim a."
A ccording to H ilary C orke,
T he recipe for th is ty p e of p o e try is sim ple. Read five h u n d re d
lines of D ry d en u n til you have got th e ’noble, fra n k , and m anly’
rhythm p a t ; choose any them e more p ro p e r to critical p r o s e ;
g a rn ish w ith two chic philosophical te rm s, th re e classical
re fe re n c e s (m inor w rite rs, p lea se !) and h alf a dozen ra th e r
n a u g h ty ones; deluge in an espagnole o f T otal K now ingness, and
se rv e up in villanelle o r te rz a rim a. ^
D avid W right called it "th e policy of play in g sa fe ," a n d , n oting th a t th e
villanelle "looks difficult b u t is really v e ry easy to c o n s tru c t, especially
in w orn-out five-foot iam b s," ru sh e d out to c o n trib u te his own p o e try to
18
an avowed anti-M ovem ent anthology, M avericks.
The e d ito rs of M avericks a ttack ed th e Movement on th e g ro u n d s th a t
its poets avoided th e c e n tra l issu e of p o e try --in s p ira tio n --in favor of
c ra ft. D anny A bse w rote:
39
With th e Movement poets th e re a d e r h a rd ly e v e r receiv es th e
im pression th a t th e poem has seized th e poet and th a t a d read fu l
stru g g le has e n su ed betw een th e poem and th e p o e t, betw een th e
nam eless, am orphous, D ionysian m aterial and th e conscious, law-
a b id in g , a rtic u la tin g craftsm an .
Howard S erg ean t su g g e ste d th a t th e reaso n why th e "main preoccupation
of 'T he Movement’ is w ith tech n iq u es" was th e lack of a n y th in g "of u rg e n c y
or im portance so [sic] s a y ," and added th a t "it is p rec ise ly b ecau se th ese
p o ets have so little in common th a t it is so difficult to examine th e ir work
as a g ro u p . . . . ’T he M ovem ent,’ th e n , h as little of a positive value to
o ffer
C ritics and review ers asked in p rin t if th e re was much d ifferen ce
betw een th e poets re p re se n te d in th e two an th o lo g ies, New L ines and
M avericks, and many c o n cu rred with G. S . F ra se r th a t th e re was none:
"Most of th e v e rse in th e ’M avericks’ anthology of sev eral y e a rs ago was
21
ju s t like th e ’New L ines' v e rs e it claimed to ch allen g e."
It may seem po in tless to d isc u ss a movement when th e p o ets involved
re fu se d to co n sid er them selves a p a rt of it, when th e m ajority of c ritic s
denied its e x iste n ce , and when even th e e d ito r of th e c en tral anthology
spoofed th e idea a few m onths a fte r New Lines ap p eared :
NEW LINES: o r IT WASN'T LIKE THAT REALLY
When v e rse stood in need of im provem ent
We sat down and s ta rte d a Movement.
We fo reg a th ere d in Hull
W orking h a rd to be dull 2 2
For we su re knew w hat being in th e groove m eant.
N onetheless, some c ritic s have recognized th a t th e re was sig n ifican t
su b sta n c e and directio n to Movement p o e try , and a few have made serious
40
e ffo rts to id en tify w hat lay at th e h e a rt of th e change ta k in g place in th e
a r t. T hese c ritic s pointed th e way tow ard a more th o u g h tfu l and objective
ap p raisal of th e Movement. Serious in q u iry began w ith a recognition th a t
th e poets w ere m aking an appeal for a r e tu r n to s ta n d a rd s , to th e poetic
th re a d th a t had rem ained u n b ro k en from th e time of C haucer u n til th e
1920s. George D ekker n o ted :
I do not w ish to e x ag g erate th e c o h e siv e n e ss, m uch less the
supposed g rey uniform ity of 'th e Movement’, n o r do I mean
e n tire ly to d eny th a t it w as, among o th e r th in g s , a publicity
gimmick. B u t th e p u b lish ed statem en ts of D avie, Amis, R obert
C onquest and D. J . E n rig h t at th a t time leave no room for doubt
th a t th e y w ere consciously w orking along sim ilar lines and in
reactio n to th e e x c e sse s, real and su p p o sed , of th e B ritish poets
of th e p rec ed in g generation and th e early A nglo-A m erican
m o d e rn ists. 23
Donald D avie, in th e 1966 p o stsc rip t to th e second edition of P u rity of
D iction in E nglish V e rse , w rote:
I like to th in k th a t if th e group of u s had e v e r cohered enough
to su scrib e to a common m anifesto, it m ight have b een P u rity of
Diction in E nglish V e rse . . . . It is a g re a t p ity , I th in k , th a t
we did not acknow ledge o u r common ground in some w ay. Instead,
we w ere all m orbidly anxious not to be seen to be actin g in con
c e rt. . . . T he m erest w hiff of a rt for a r t's sa k e , and we p a
nicked , sh o u tin g . 24
As th ese comments in d ic ate , how ever, th e search for th e c e n te r of
Movement p o e try has n e v e r been c a rrie d fu rth e r th a n sporadic e ffo rts to
id en tify lin k s w ith th e p a st or c ite contem porary evils th e p o ets wished
to a tta c k . S till, th e re w as, if only for a sh o rt tim e, a genuine movement
w ith a more stable c e n te r th a n anyone realized at th e tim e. A close
exam ination of th e poems collected in New Lines rev eals two things: fir s t,
th a t th e Movement poets d id , at th e time of p u b lic atio n , have a g re a t deal
41
in common philosophically and a esth e tic ally , as well as tech n ically , and
second, th a t th e re a re indeed significant d ifferen ces betw een th e ir p o e try
and th e p o e try found in M avericks.
All of th e c h a ra c te ristic s of Movement p o e try m entioned ab o v e , both
n eg ativ e and p o sitiv e , can be subsum ed u n d e r a few sim ple head in g s once
th e y are recognized fo r what th e y are--p h ilo so p h ical and a esth etic d istil
lates of existentialism . While few of th e se poets w ere c a rd -c a rry in g
disciples of S arte and Camus (th e ir a b h o rre n ce of rig o ro u sly articu la te d
’’system s" m ilitating ag ain st any su ch alleg ia n ce ), all of them w ere pow er
fully in fluenced by th e e x isten tial am bience of th e tim es.
T he p rin cip les and a ttitu d e s of existentialism w hich found th e ir way
acro ss th e E nglish C hannel a re not as much as v arian ce with th e th eo ries
of Logical Positivism and B ritish em piricism , also a p a rt of th e ambience
of th e tim es, as m ight at firs t be assum ed. As Iris M urdoch has pointed
o u t, th e following assum ption about th e p lig h t of man in th e world might
well have come from S a rtre ; it com es, how ever, from A. J . A y e r, who
h a d , as in d icated e a rlie r, influenced th e philosophical a ttitu d e s of some
of th e Movement p o ets:
T h ere is n o th in g to be done about i t , ex cep t look at th e fa c ts,
look at them h a rd e r, look at more of them , and th e n come to a
moral decision. T hen ask in g w h eth er th e a ttitu d e th a t one has
adopted is th e rig h t a ttitu d e comes down to ask in g w hether one is
p re p a re d to sta n d b y it. T h ere can be no g u a ra n tee of c o rre c t
n e s s , b ecau se n o th in g counts as a g u a ra n te e . O r r a th e r , some
th in g may count for someone as a g u a ra n te e , b u t counting some
th in g as a g u aran tee is its e lf ta k in g up a moral s ta n d p o in t. ^
S pecifically, all th e s e poets w rite p o e try w hich re fle c ts th e basic
ex isten tial te n e t th a t man e x ists in a sta te of tension w ith th e re s t of
42
n a tu re . In d ee d , man is not only in h e re n tly se p ara ted from o th e r living
c re a tu re s and th e laws which g o v ern them , b u t in w ardly d iv id ed , his
animal self o r n a tu ra l self at odds w ith his rational m ind. In tellect yields
know ledge of d e a th , an aw areness of im perm anence, and a se n sitiv ity to
th e passage of tim e--none of which a re sh a red by o th e r liv in g th in g s o r
b y th e su b -c o rtic al man. E v en tu ally , too, even m an's animal o r emotiond
h alf is to rn b y conflicting c u rre n ts : fe a r and a n x ie ty , for exam ple, are
companion to th e h eig h ten ed aw areness of b eau ty also b ro u g h t b y know l
edge of d e a th ; h en ce, th e se poets feel th ric e divided as a perm anent
condition of life.
A nother consequence of th e possession of a n e o -c o rtex is th e capacity
to dream , to conceive of v a lu e -p a tte rn s not m anifest in n a tu re , and (to a
d eg ree) live in th e w orlds th e y p o stu la te . T he in te rn a l conflict occasioned
b y th e d isp a rity betw een th e real and th e ideal is at tim es so g re a t, and
th e g rip o f th e ideal so stro n g , th a t e ffo rts to narrow th e gap of pain
sometimes tak e s th e form of d isto rtio n of re a lity . U nity is th u s achieved,
b u t n a tu re is th e n re fra c te d th ro u g h th e prism of a "system " o f p e rc e p
tion and cognition. P reconceptions about what n a tu re will contain as th e
poet ap proaches it (bodied in su ch p e rc ep tu a l fram es as "Romanticism"
o r "C h ristia n ity " o r "tra d itio n ") become self-fu lfillin g p ro p h e sie s: th e
se ek e r finds only th o se th in g s he is p re p a re d to se e, soon losing touch
w ith much of re a lity . The poet th e n fails to come to p ro p e r term s with
26
re a lity , to , as Orwell d ire c te d , "accept it, e n d u re i t, rec o rd i t ." How
th e ideal and th e a ctu al--ea ch e sse n tia l to p o e try --m ay fru itfu lly in te r
p e n e tra te one a n o th e r, n e ith e r "tainted w ith th e o th er" is one of th e major
27
co n cern s of th e Movement p o e ts.
43
A nother e x isten tial d e riv ativ e (also not at odds with th e tra d itio n s of
B ritish empiricism and Logical Positivism ) , one which strik e s at th e h e a rt
of th e p o e t's c ra ft, is a d is tru s t of lan g u a g e, p rin cip ally in th re e respects:
( 1 ) as a p e rc e p tu a l filte r, ( 2 ) as a re p o sito ry of reco rd ed e x p erien c e,
and (3) as a mode of communication betw een m en.
As a filte r o r sc ree n betw een man and n a tu re , language is re g a rd e d
by th e se poets w ith much th e same d is tru s t as any of th e in h e rite d o r
m anufactured "system s" w ith th e ir selective modes of p ercep tio n and a
p rio ri p rin cip les of a rra n g em e n t. In p a rtic u la r, th e u se of im agery in
p o e try --a device which h ab itu ally in fu ses a hum an c o n stru c t with th e
sen su o u s q u alities of some detail from n a tu re (o r "pollinates" i t, for
exam ple)--im plies b y its v e ry u se a harm ony betw een man and n a tu re
th a t v itia te s th e prem ises of Movement p o e try .
Second, th e Movement p o ets' obsession with th e p assag e of tim e--
th e ir p a in sta k in g concern w ith a c c u ra te a p p ra isa l of m an's condition in
th e p re s e n t moment, isolated from any h isto ric al o r ideological p a tte r n s ,
and w ith holding th a t p ic tu re clear and ste a d y as th e p re s e n t slips into
th e p a st--m a k e s them u n u su ally se n sitiv e to th e fra ilty of language as a
medium for sto rin g tr u th . T he b rig h t moment fa d e s, leaving a shell of
w ords th e failing memory can fill w ith lies:
All fragm ents of th e p a s t, n e a r and f a r,
Come down to u s fram ed in a calm
No contem plations ja r;
B ut th e y g ru b it up from lapse of tim e,
A nd, could we s trip th e firm o rd e r aw ay,
What c ru d e ag itatio n s would be show n:
What aim less h a u n tin g s behind clay,
What fe v e rs behind stone? (Amis, "T he S ources of th e P a s t,"
NL, p . 51) N
44
T h ird , language is at b e st a clum sy medium of d isc o u rse . Jo h n Wain,
in th e se rie s of fo u r poems en title d "Who Speaks My L anguage?" details
at le n g th th e fru stra tio n of m an's sep aratio n from his fellows:
Did th o se who listen ed get th e m essage r ig h t,
Could th e y re p e a t th e tale when it was ended?
A h, no. It seems th e sim plest w ords take frig h t
And shape them selves anew for e v e ry e a r,
P ro te cted b y a c ra zy c o p y rig h t
From e v e r m aking th e ir in ten tio n s c le a r. (NL, p . 85)'
Movement poets tr y to make th e ir in te n tio n s unm istakably clear: th eirs
is v e ry m uch a p o e try of d irec t sta te m e n t. T hough it is not "confessional"
28
p o e try , th e "I" oh "he" of th e poem is in v ariab ly th e poet him self. The
tone of voice in th ese poems is m a tte r-o f-fa c t, ratio n al, unem otional; it
h as been called "d ry " or " a u s te re ." For exam ple, Philip L a rk in 's "B orn
Y esterd ay (fo r Sally Am is)" contains th e same so rt of wish for a new -born
as th a t in Y eats's "A P ra y e r for My D aughter"--"M ay she be g ra n te d
29
b e au ty and y e t not / B eauty to make a s tra n g e r's eye d is tr a u g h t" - -
b u t th e tone is quite d iffe re n t:
May you be o rd in a ry ;
Have like o th e r women
An av erag e of ta le n ts:
Not u g ly , not good-looking,
N othing uncustom ary
To pull you off y o u r b alan ce,
T h a t, unw orkable its e lf,
S tops all th e re s t from w orking. (NL, p . 25)
L arkin m akes h is "wish" ( ra th e r th a n " p ra y e r," a choice in itse lf sig n ifi
can t) w ithout emotional flo u rish es (Y eats b eg in s his poem: "Once more
th e storm is how ling. . . . I have walked and p ray e d for th is yo u n g child
45
an h o u r / And h e ard th e sea scream upon th e tow er” ; not u n til th e th ird
sta n z a does he begin th e p ra y e r itself) . A llusions in Movement p o e try
are s tru c tu re d so th a t 1 ) th o u g h th e y en rich m eaning, th e y are not used
30
to d irec tly convey i t ; and 2 ) th e y are o ften u sed w ith ironic in te n t.
As a re s u lt, in L ark in ’s poem th e re a re none of th e veiled classical allu
sions found in Y eat's poem ("a b a n d y -le g g ed sm ith" fo r H ep h aestu s) ,
n o th in g to p u t th e o rd in a ry re a d e r off balance and stop th e poem from
w orking in th e p rec ise m anner in ten d ed b y L ark in . As Donald Davie noted
in "Rem em bering th e T h ir tie s " : "A n e u tra l tone is now adays p re fe rre d "
(NL, p . 72).
Movement p o e try can be d istin g u ish e d , to some e x te n t, from much of
th e p o e try b ein g w ritte n at th e same tim e, by th e way th is n e u tra l tone
is c a rrie d o v er into c h a ra c te ristic treatm en t of both fig u ra tiv e language
(im ag ery , m etaphor, sym bol) and th e "m usical" com ponents of lan g u ag e,
which co n sist of th e tonal o r melodic fe a tu re s (asso n an ce, a llite ratio n ,
cacophony, and th e like) and th e tem poral o r m etrical fe a tu re s (rh y m e,
m eter, sen ten ce le n g th , and so f o r th ).
B ecause th e re is so m uch em phasis placed in Movement p o e try on
seeing th in g s c le arly , th e u se of fig u rativ e language is c arefu lly con
tro lle d . Im agery, seen th ro u g h Movement e y e s, becom es a convenient
s u b s titu te for th o u g h t; as D . J . E n rig h t noted of D ylan Thom as: "T he
ric h and b rillian t im agery in which his w ork abounds almost b lin d s th e
31
c ritic to its deficiency in in tellectu al co n v ictio n ." Once th is o c c u rs,
Donald D avie notes in A rticu late E n e rg y ,
th e tru e articu latio n [of experience] tak e s place b y magical or
dream -like associations of one image with a n o th e r; a w ord in
46
one sen ten ce reach es out to em brace an o th er two sen ten c es aw ay,
and th e relatio n sh ip th u s e stab lish ed makes th e relation of each
w ord to th e o th e rs in its sen ten ce seem th in and i l l u s o r y .
Davie goes on to point out y et an o th er p ern icio u s effect of im agery when
u sed m erely as em bellishm ent: "when co n crete im ages are crow ded upon
33
each o th e r, th e y lose th e ir c o n c re te n e ss."
A ccordingly, Movement poets see u n controlled m etaphor as a detrim ent,
ra th e r th an an aid to th in k in g , and deal with th e problem d ire c tly in
th e ir p o e try . In "A gainst Rom anticism ," Amis su g g e sts th a t it is
To please an ingrow n ta s te for an arch y
T o rrid im ages circle in th e wood
And sw eat for recognition up th e ro a d ,
Cramm ing close th e a ir w ith th e ir bookish c rie s.
And a d d s ,
B e tte r, o f c o u rse , if im ages w ere p lain ,
W arnings clearly sa id , sh ap es p u t down q u ite still
Within th e fin g e rs ’ re a c h , o r else now here. (NL, p . 45)
M etaphor’s role in deception is dealt w ith d ire c tly in John Holloway's
"E pitaph for a Man" who had "b u t one v ic e " :
T h at one was cosmic th o u g h . It took in all th e lo t.
B eing a capacity
To sa y , do, th in k , p re a c h , tr u s t in w hat was not
In e v e ry th in g . H alf-lie and lie
All ro u n d th e clock: u n til he blacked
His shadow s' shadow to a neat desig n
T h a t all and su n d ry took for a fa c t.
(Why look, as black as c h e rrie s: as w hite as w ine.)
(NL, p . 10)
Such a ttitu d e s did not mean th a t Movement p o ets elim inated fig u rativ e
lan g u ag e, m erely th a t it was carefu lly controlled fo r maximum p e rsu a siv e
47
effect (p e rsu a siv e not only in term s of arg u m en t, b u t in term s of
b e lie v a b ility , in m aking th e ex p erien ce in th e poem seem "re a l” ) . John
Wain, for exam ple, said th a t he aimed fo r "a logical raiso n d ’e tre for
34
e v e ry w ord, image and m etaphor u s e d ."
A rg u in g for "economy in m etaphor" in P u rity of D iction in E nglish
V e rs e , Davie notes th a t "sim ile, m etaphor and symbol a re all dev ices for
35
seem ing to say one th in g (B ) while really say in g an o th er (A )." L a te r,
d isc u ssin g G ray 's "Elegy- in a C o u n try C h u rc h y a rd ," he p o in ts out one of
th e d a n g e rs o f su ch o p e ra tio n s: "tre a c h e ro u s am biguity comes in w ith
3 6
th e m etap h o rs." T his seem ed one of th e d a n g ers of m etaphor in m odern
p o e try as well, and C onquest p ro b ab ly h ad in mind not only Eliot and
P ound, b u t more re c e n t p o ets as well (p a rtic u la rly th o se w rite rs of th e
late 1940s whose num ber in clu d ed D ylan Thom as) , when he spoke of "th e
d eb ilitatin g th e o ry th a t p o e try m ust be m etaphorical" in th e "Introduction"
37
to New L in e s. Sym bolism , even less specific and co n crete th a n metaphor,
was avoided even more rig o ro u sly b y Movement p o e ts.
Movement p o e try is n o t, as C harles Tomlinson n o ted , v e ry se n su o u s.
If th e lies of im agery m ust be avoided, th e n th e lies of all o th e r affective
appeals m ust also be sh u n n e d . A rich m usical co n tex t would m ilitate
ag ain st the Movement p u rp o se of k eep in g th e re a d e r a le rt to th e in d if
feren ce o r antagonism of n a tu re ; how ever skilfully th e poet m ight t r y to
limit th e effects of assonance and a llite ratio n , for exam ple, to sublim inal
su p p o rt of h is arg u m e n t, th e se devices alw ays c a rry w ith them th e
soothing im plication th a t man is tu n ed to n a tu re , th a t to follow its rhythms
and m elodies is to find tr u th .
H ence, aside from cacophony, which lay s em phasis on a lack of such
48
harm ony w ith n a tu r e , th e tonal fe a tu re s of lan g u ag e are u sed b y all th e
Movement poets w ith g re a t re s tra in t. T h ere are d ifferen c e s betw een then,
of c o u rse; E lizabeth Je n n in g s, for exam ple, p lay s a much so fte r melody
th a n John Wain. Com pare th e g rad u al opening of th e th ro a t achieved
th ro u g h assonance in th e firs t fo u r lines of h e r "Music and Words" with
th e fall into mild cacophony which ch arac terize s th e c o n tra stin g view
e x p re sse d in th e final lines of th e stan za:
No hum an sin g in g can
E x p ress its e lf w ithout
Words th a t u s u rp th e sounds
T h at p o u r fo rth from th e th ro a t.
B ut when th e m usic ends
T h ere lies w ithin o u r m inds
T h o u g h ts th a t re fu s e to fit,
T h at will not sin g o r scan
O r a lte r w hat th e y m ean. (NL, p . 3) ,
Notice also th e clev er rhythm ic c o n tra st w hich, for exam ple, in te r ru p ts
th e even flow of iam bs in th e f irs t two lines w ith th e m ild ly -jarrin g dactyl
at th e b eg in n in g of th e th ir d , w here th e th o u g h t ch an g es d irec tio n .
Compare th is w ith Jo h n Wain’s ty p ical cacophony and tru n ch e o n beat
in th is stan za from "T he U sefulness of L ight":
N ight circles p a s t. A gain
lig h t s tir s . T he su n b a n g s dow n. 4
Again th e world comes clean.
T he su n sp eak s to th e tow n. (NL, p . 88) )
T h ese two selections illu s tra te th e ran g e of sound values explored in
Movement p o e try . When th e p o e try is serio u s (d id a c tic ), th e span of
tonal change is fairly w ide. Such v a rie ty as th e se poets d isp lay in th e
ironic mode, how ever, encom passes th e angle betw een ato n ality and discord.
49
If b o th im agery and tonal values a re heavily re s tra in e d , to w hat o th e r
e x p re ssiv e re so u rc e s of language can th e poet tu rn ? O bviously all th a t
a re left are th e tem poral fe a tu re s. Small w onder, th e n , th a t so much
critical a tten tio n has been devoted to rhym e, m eter, tem po, line le n g th ,
sen ten ce le n g th , m etrical u se s of assonance and a lliteratio n , in te rn a l
rhym e, ty p o g ra p h y , and th e lik e, in Movement p o e try .
A g re a t deal of (u su ally hostile) com m entary has been g e n erate d b y
th e Movement p o e ts' p re fe re n c e for tra d itio n a l v e rse form s. C e rta in ly ,
as noted e a rlie r, th ese poets feel no need to "make it new" in term s of
form . In fa c t, it seems obvious th a t th e y d eriv e a g reat deal of p lea su re
from try in g th e ir h an d s at fam iliar technical d ev ices, a n d , f u r th e r , th a t
th e y believe th is p lea su re is sh a red b y re a d e rs who ap p reciate th e dem on
stra tio n of su ch sk ills.
More im p o rtan t, how ever, is th e fact th a t Movement p o ets see a rt as
an o rd e rin g r a th e r th a n a re g istra tio n of ex p erien c e. Im plicit in th e ir
u se of trad itio n a l form s, which make u se o f th e p red ictab le and th e
r e c u r r e n t, is a common a ttitu d e th a t th e re is a common phenom enal world
th a t may be reliab ly d e sc rib e d . T h u s Movement p o e try is not experim en
tal o r in n o v ato ry in form . It d isp lay s no m arked deviations from p r e
e x istin g modes of d isc o u rse , poetic o r n o n -p o etic. It te n d s tow ard a
s tra ig h t chronological o rd e rin g of its m aterial and o b serv es th e A risto
telian u n itie s: th e re is a clear b e g in n in g , middle and e n d . As John
P re ss o b se rv e s:
When we rea d a good poem b y F u lle r, D avie o r L arkin we feel that
th e poet m ust have planned it from s ta r t to finish w ith th e same
c a re , th e same re g a rd for p ro p o rtio n , th a t an a rc h ite c t employs
in th e d esig n of a b u ild in g . O r, to v a ry th e simile, th e ir v e rse
50
resem bles th e speech of an ad v o cate, who calculates th e w eight of
e v ery w ord, m anipulates his e p ith e ts, v a rie s his tone of voice and
pace of d e liv ery , as w ith a finely tem pered skill and lu cid ity he
moves from his exordium to his p e ro ra tio n . ^
Movement p o ets are im personal ad v o cates, th e ir im p erso n al ity achieved
not th ro u g h th e u se of p e rs o n a e , as in m odernist p o e try , b u t th ro u g h th e
u se of trad itio n a l v e rs e form s available, as th e y a re so fond of p o inting
o u t, to any poet from C h au cer’s time to th e p re s e n t. And unlike modernist
p ra c tic e , th e se form s are most em phatically not u sed for th e p u rp o se of
d raw ing th e re a d e r's atten tio n to th e ir ro o ts in e a rlie r p o e try o r of making
u se of any asso ciatio n s, p a ra lle ls, o r o v erto n es th e rhythm ic s tru c tu re
m ight evoke from th e p a s t.
Above a ll, Movement p o ets aim at p ro d u cin g in th e re a d e r not feeling
sta te s b u t in tellectu al re s p o n s e s , a n d , as Donald Davie n o te s , m eter and
39
rhym e " d e te r th e re a d e r w ho.w ants p o e try to cue him how to fe e l." The
same im pulse th a t leads Movement p o ets to tu r n th e ir backs on im agery
and p leasu rab le so u n d s makes them sh y away from soothing rh y th m s.
When th e crad le ro ck s in th e ir p o e try it is more likely to do so in th e
cause of iro n y or sa tire ra th e r th a n to waft th e re a d e r into tra n s p o rts of
d elig h t. Once ag ain , n a tu re 's b lan d ish m en ts--w h eth er m etrical o r melodic—
conceal th e tr u th of m an’s condition; th e y imply a harm ony th a t is false
and d e s tru c tiv e . H ence, th e h y p n o tic, a n a e sth e tic , and euphoric u se s of
rhym e m ust be avoided.
It follows, th e n , th a t all rhythm ic elem ents will be u sed functionally
in th e serv ice of th e poem 's prim ary rh eto rica l p u rp o se . W hether th a t
p u rp o se re q u ire s an ironic o r didactic voice, a comic o r serious face, th e
m ethod rem ains v e ry much th e sam e.
51
In his ironic voice, th e Movement poet u su ally s ta r ts w ith e ith e r a
favorable o r n e u tra l a ttitu d e tow ard th e m aterial; th e n , tow ard th e end of
th e stan za o r th o u g h t, he re v e rse s his field and d isc h arg e s th e e n erg y
of th e poem in la u g h te r. O b serv e , in th is sta n za from L ark in 's "C h urch
G oing," how th e iambic beat is used to se t up th e comic tw ist:
Once I am su re th e re 's n o th in g going on
I ste p in sid e , le ttin g th e door th u d s h u t.
A nother c h u rc h : m atting, s e a ts , and sto n e ,
And little books; spraw lings of flow ers, c u t
For S u n d ay , brow nish now; some b ra s s and s tu ff
Up at th e holy e n d ; th e small neat o rg a n ;
And a te n s e , m u sty , unignorable silence,
B rew ed God know s how long. H atless I tak e off
My cy cle-clip s in aw kw ard re v e re n c e . (NL, p . 20)
Once th e firs t line has estab lish ed th e rh y th m , th e second line fo re
shadow s th e m etrical s tra te g y of th e e n tire poem: th e soft tre a d of th e
iambs is a b ru p tly re v e rse d as th e door sh u ts w ith its th re e u n ex p ected ly
heavy a c c en ts. T he poet th e n continues iam bieally down th e c e n te r aisle,
ta k in g a full fo u r lines to low er th e g u a rd of th e re a d e r, who is now alert
to th e possibility of more of L ark in 's comic footw ork. Lines sev en and
eight th en begin to build tow ard a cacophonous and u n ste a d y stilln e ss,
se ttin g up th e la st line: th e p o e t’s genuflection tow ard th e a lta r, cast
in p e rfe c t and innocent iam bs, p ro v es to be only th e aw kw ard rem oval of
his c y cle-c lip s. C ontrol of th e mood th ro u g h ironic c o n tra st in th is poem
is larg ely th e re s u lt of sk ilfu l control of th e m eter.
In his didactic mode, th e Movement poet g en erally u se s th e m etrical
equipm ent in th e same w ay. In R obert C o n q u est's "H um anities," for
exam ple, th e poet in te r r u p ts th e beat w henever he w ants to draw
52
atten tio n to im portant id eas:
H ypnotized and told th e y 're seeing re d
When really looking a t a yellow wall
T h e ch ild ren speak o f orange seen in s te a d :
Split to su ch rainbow th ro u g h th a t v e rb a l lens
It tak e s a whole h e a r t's e ffo rt to see all
The hum an plenum as a single e n s. (NL, p . 79), .
T he firs t th re e lin e s , which m erely sta te neurological f a c t, conform
closely to th e iambic b e a t; th e more th e poem ap p ro ach es em pty v e rs e , the
h e av ier th e rhythm ic em p h asis. When th e parallel betw een th e n a tu ra l
and sem antic w orlds is rev e ale d , how ever, and v e rse yields to p o e try ,
th e even re c u rre n c e of em phasis is b ro k en b y a fo u rth line which consists
almost e n tirely of stre s s e d sy llab les. Line five so ften s th e em phasis, and
line six re tu rn s again to th e iambic b e a t.
T h ere a re , of c o u rse , an in fin ite num ber of tactical v a ria tio n s on th e
s tra te g y illu stra te d h e re , b u t th e p rin cip le in Movement p o e try rem ains
th e same th ro u g h o u t: rhythm ic devices are n e v e r u se d w ithout a
rh eto rica l p u rp o se ; song fo r its own sake does not ap p ea r in Movement
p o e try .
Given all th e se p o stu lates and th e c re ativ e s tric tu r e s p e n d en t from
th e m , one m ight conclude th a t th e lite ra ry gro u n d h as been re n d e re d so
b a rre n th a t p o e try sim ply cannot tak e ro o t. A nd, in d e e d , th e se poets do
re g a rd th e reg e n era tio n of p o e try as a h o rtic u ltu ra l e n te rp ris e commen
su ra te w ith c a stin g m u stard seed among sto n e s. N e v e rth e le ss, a tten u ated
th o u g h it may b e , a p o e try suitable to th e tim es and c o n sisten t w ith th e
ev o lutionary d esig n of B ritish p o e try , a p o e try carefu lly circum scribed
in p u rp o se and rig id ly controlled in te c h n iq u e , was developed.
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T he obligatory p u rp o se of th is p o e try , co n sisten t w ith th e g en eral
p u rp o se of all a rt in an e x iste n tia l ag e, m ust be th e exam ination of m an's
unique position in th e u n iv e rs e . T he se arc h for his id e n tity cannot be
u n d e rta k e n in a void; th e role he d isco v ers is obviously a fu nction of th e
play in w hich he finds him self. He is what he is larg e ly because of th e
relatio n sh ip he b e a rs to th e s e ttin g aro u n d him . Alien o r n o t, th a t which
e x ists o u tsid e him is th e only re a lity he can know ; flawed o r n o t, th e
m irror of n a tu re is th e o n ly one in which he can see his face.
O bviously th e scenes selected for th e search m ust be c a re fu lly circum
sc rib ed ; not e v ery lan d scap e contains th e elem ents of in te rn a l s tre s s
w hich m ight yield tru th fu l p a ra lle ls with th e hum an condition. T h erefo re
all e x tra n eo u s elem ents w ithin th e sc e n e --th o se fe a tu re s which fo ste r easy
rom antic self-d ecep tio n and those w hich o b fu sc ate , conceal, or dull th e
reflection of th e em ergent hum an tru th --m u s t be elim inated. In th e
in te re s t of a cc u ra c y , im agery m ust e ith e r be abandoned o r its o v erto n es
so carefu lly controlled th a t none point to horizons beyond o r raise curtains
on v ista s o f irre le v a n t feeling o r th o u g h t. The o b se rv e r m ust be d is
co u rag ed from b rin g in g in to play in his read in g of th e poem any co n tex t
o r fram e of re fe re n c e beyond th e one proposed by th e w rite r; his attention
m ust be held sp atially to th e fo reg ro u n d and tem porally to th e p re s e n t.
H ence, classical re fe re n c e s , h isto rical o r geographic p a ra lle ls, v iv ify in g
lin k s to companion a r ts , evocative sound and m etrical p a tte rn s -- in s h o rt,
much of th e trad itio n a l p arap h en alia of th e p o e t's c ra ft--m u st be rigorously
disciplined o r elim inated.
L anguage th u s poses special d ifficu lty for th e Movement p o e t. O b
viously a "poetic" diction is re q u ir e d ; th e lim itations of lan g u ag e detailed
54
above can be m inim ized, and th e d istan ce betw een man and nature narrow ed,
only if a mode of d isco u rse which sp eak s to th e whole m an --th e h e a rt as
well as th e m in d --is em ployed. B ut poetic lan g u ag e is , by d efin itio n ,
speech which utilizes m usical and im agistic re so u rc e s not available to
p ro se , w here th e m easure of effectiv en ess often c e n te rs in denotative
a ccu racy . When th e u se s of im agery and of sound and rhythm ic values
are heavily c u rta ile d , th e n fe tte re d w ith re se rv a tio n s and cau tio n s--w h en ,
in s h o rt, th e sta n d a rd s of p ro se begin to in tru d e upon th e d ic tio n --th e
poet fin d s him self tre a d in g a v e ry narrow p a th in d e e d . G reat em phasis
is placed on h is reso u rc e fu ln e ss in finding w ays to evoke and y e t tig h tly
control th e affective resp o n se s w ithin him self and w ithin th e re a d e r to th e
scene p re s e n te d .
It is not s u rp ris in g , th e re fo re , given so le n g th y a list of cau tio n s,
th a t a specific s tra te g y fo r th re a d in g th e needle should em erge and th a t
e v e ry Movment poem should ap p ro ach , if not e n tire ly em ulate, a model
sequence o r p ro c e d u re . Nor is it s u rp ris in g th a t th is p ro to ty p e can b e st
be d e scrib e d in th e p e d e stria n language of rh e to ric .
Thom G unn’s "On th e Move ( ’Man, you g o tta G o .')’’ is a good example
of a ’ ’m ethod’ Movement poem :
T he blue jay scu fflin g in th e b u sh e s follows
Some h id d en p u rp o se , and th e g u st of b ird s
T h at s p u rts acro ss th e field, th e w heeling swallows,
Have n e ste d in th e tre e s and u n d e rg ro w th .
S eeking th e ir in s tin c t, o r th e ir poise, o r b o th ,
One moves w ith an u n c e rta in violence
U nder th e d u st throw n b y a baffled sen se
O r th e dull th u n d e r of approxim ate w o rd s.
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On m otorcycles, up th e ro a d , th e y come:
Small, b lack , as flies h an g in g in th e h e a t, th e B oys,
Until th e d istan ce throw s them fo rth , th e ir hum
B ulges to th u n d e r held b y calf and th ig h .
In g o g g les, donned im personality,
In gleam ing jack ets tro p h ie d w ith th e d u s t,
T hey s tra p in d o u b t--b y h id in g i t , ro b u s t--
A nd alm ost h e a r a m eaning in th e ir noise.
Exact conclusion of th e ir h a rd in e ss
Has no sh ap e y e t, b u t from know n w hereabouts
T hey rid e , d irectio n w here th e ty re s p re s s .
T hey sc are a flig h t of b ird s acro ss th e fie ld :
Much th a t is n a tu ra l, to th e will m ust y ield .
Men m anufacture b o th m achine and soul,
A nd u se w hat th e y im perfectly control
To d a re a fu tu re from th e tak e n ro u te s .
It is a p a rt solution, a fte r all.
One not n e c e ssa rily discord
On e a rth ; or dammed b e ca u se, h a lf anim al,
One lack s d ire c t in s tin c t, b ecau se one w akes
Afloat on movement th a t d ivides and b re a k s.
One join,Si th e movement in a v alu eless w orld,
C hoosing i t, till, both h u rle r and th e h u rle d ,
One moves as well, alw ays to w ard , to w ard .
A m inute holds th em , who have come to g o :
T he se lf-d e fin e d , a strid e the c re ate d will
T hey b u r s t aw ay; th e tow ns th e y tra v e l th ro u g h
A re home for n e ith e r b ird n o r h o lin ess,
For b ird s and sa in ts complete th e ir p u rp o se s.
At w o rst, one is in m otion; at b e s t,
R eaching no a b so lu te , in which to r e s t ,
One is alw ays n e a re r by not k eep in g still. (N L, p p . 31-33)
"On th e Move" is v e ry m uch a c o n ta in e r fo r th e ex p ressio n of an
e n co u n ter w ith re a lity , a n e n co u n ter which h as been p o n d e re d , o r d e re d ,
and th e n ap p lied . T he n eat e ig h t-lin e sta n za s of flu en t iambic p entam eter
(rhym ing abaccddh) concluding with a s tra ig h t-fo rw a rd a sse rtio n ("O ne
is alw ays n e a re r b y not k eep in g s till." ) m akes th is th e so rt of poem th a t
William C arlos Williams felt clicked s h u t like a b o x . Like all Movement
p o e try , it is b ased on th e assum ption th a t "reality " can be found in a
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common phenom enal w orld, and th a t it can th en be com m unicated to the
re a d e r. T he ratio n al ap p ro ach to experience is m irro red in th e v e rse
form ; as Paul F ussell p o in ts o u t,
A ccentual-syllabic m eter seems to be fashionable d u rin g ages in
te re s te d in classical rh e to ric and d istin g u ish ed b y commitments
to th e sen se of hum an lim itation and o rd e r. Of all m etrical systems
possible in E n g lish , th e accen tu al-sy llab ic is th e most hostile by
n a tu re to im pulse, irre g u la rity , and u n re s tra in e d g ran d io sity .
It seems all b u t im possible to tran sm it im pressions of h y ste ria o r
th e fra n tic w ithin a s tric t accen tu al-sy llab ic v ersific atio n : a
w eighty judiciousness a p p ea rs to be th e tone most commonly
associated w ith accen tu al-sy llab ism . 40
T he poem unfolds p re d ic ta b ly , p re s e rv in g A ristotelian u n itie s, and p r e
se n ts th e re a d e r w ith a carefu lly delineated tr u th .
In doing so, "On th e Move" re p re s e n ts a d ire c t b re a k with M odernist
p o e try , and th is can be dem o n strated b y com paring it w ith a p a ssa g e
from T . S. E liot’s The Waste L and:
U nreal C ity ,
U nder th e fog of a w in ter daw n,
A crow d flowed o v er London B rid g e , so m any,
I had not th o u g h t d eath had undone so m any.
S ig h s, sh o rt and in fre q u e n t, w ere ex h aled ,
And each man fixed h is eyes before his f e e t.
Flowed up th e hill and down King William S tre e t,
To w here Saint M ary Woolnoth k e p t th e h o u rs ,
With a dead sound on th e final strik e of n in e.
T h ere I saw one I knew , and stopped him , c ry in g : "S tetson!
You who w ere w ith me in th e sh ip s at Mylae!
T h at c o rp se you p lan ted la st y e a r in y o u r g a rd e n ,
Has it b eg u n to sp ro u t? Will it bloom th is y e ar?
O r h as th e su d d en fro st d istu rb e d its bed?
Oh keep th e Dog fa r h e n c e , th a t's frien d to m en,
O r w ith his nails h e ’ll dig it up again! ^
You! h y p o c rite lecteu r! —mon sem blable--m on fre re !"
T he sequence b eg in s w ith a more o r less realistic d e scrip tio n of London
com m uters in which th e re is a subm erged analogy w ith th e In fern o (and
57
E liot's notes on th e poem cite th e rele v an t p a ssa g e s should th e re a d e r fail
to catch echoes of D ante) , b u t su d d en ly sh ifts at th e end of th e te n th
line to rem arks for which th e re are no co n tex tu al su p p o rt, and which are
intelligible only as m etaphorical a rticu la tio n s of motifs alread y in tro d u c ed
in th e b eg in n in g lines of th e poem ("A pril is th e c ru e le st m onth, b re e d in g
/ Lilacs out of th e dead lan d ") some six ty lines e a rlie r. T he poem is a
s tru c tu re o f such them es and p a ssa g es tak en from d iv erse c o n te x ts ;
m eaning a rises out of th e a b ru p t ju x ta p o sitio n s, w ithout co n n ectiv es, of
th e se frag m en ts.
T he Waste Land is ty p ical of m odernist p o e try , in which th e p o e t's
k ey o b jectiv e, as Hugo F rie d ric h n o te s, is d isso n a n c e--h is aim is to induce
s u rp ris e and amazement on th e p a rt of th e re a d e r (in c o n tr a s t, th e
42
Movement poet is in te n t upon c le a r, specific com m unication). The
sp e a k e r in T he Waste Land is dram atized (ag a in , in d irec t c o n tra s t, th e
sp e a k e r in "On th e Move” is d ire c tly a n d . im m ediately G unn) ; ra th e r th a n
th e lim iting p e rsp e c tiv e of a p erso n al voice, th e poem is p re se n te d through
th e eyes of th e blind se e r T ire s ia s , able to e n te r in to th e consciousness
o f many m inds. Hence th e in ten tio n al o b s c u rity , th e sn a tch e s from
B audelaire and W ebster, th e cancellation o f tem poral h ie ra rc h ie s and th e
u n re a l union of logically and objectively incom parable elem ents (how can
one of th e London com m uters have also been on a ship in 260 B .C .? ) .
T he poem is experim ental in form , co n ce rn e d as is all m odernist lite ra tu re
w ith th e conscious and subconscious w orkings of th e hum an m ind. It has
no real b eg in n in g , b u t p lu n g es th e re a d e r in to a stream of ex p erien ce
w ith which he m ust g rad u ally fam iliarize him self b y a p ro cess of in feren ce
and association, for th e m eaning of th e poem is conveyed in d ire c tly by
58
th e u se of sym bols, m etaphors and im ages in w hich n a tu ra l term s of com
p a riso n a re avoided.
In c o n tr a s t, th e m ethod of a Movement poem su ch as "On th e Move"
is th a t of an in d u c tiv e /d e d u c tiv e seq u en ce. In th e firs t p a rt of th e poem,
ty p ic a lly , a num ber of phenom ena in n a tu re which d isplay to th e poet a
sig n ifican t sim ilarity, o r o th e r re la tio n sh ip , a re p re s e n te d . T h ese con
s titu te th e " sc e n e ." From th e details p re s e n te d th e poet i n d u c e s a p r in
ciple (o r gains an in s ig h t, ex p erien ces a re v e la tio n , o r otherw ise achieves
an aw areness th a t can be sh ap ed into a p rin cip le) . T he p roposition is
th e n c a rrie d o v e r and applied experim entally to a sp ec ts of a w orld assumed
to be fundam entally d issim ila r--th e world of man. If th e hum an details
fit com fortably u n d e r th e b ro ad p rin cip le (w hich th e y a re more inclined
to do if th e original scene contained a hum an fig u re to give it scale) th e
d ed u ctiv e p ro ce ss is assum ed to be v alid, a n d , b y in fe re n c e , m an's
p re se n c e in th e world h as m om entary m eaning o r ju stific atio n .
A Movement poem d iffe rs also from a Romatie poem (o r one m aking
u se of Rom antic assum ptions about im agery) , w hich in rh eto rica l term s
p ro ceed s to its conclusion b y analogy. In su ch a poem, elem ents selected
from th e two w o rld s--th e world of man and th e world of n a tu re --w o u ld be
placed side by side in th e form of im ages ("My love so a rs like a b ird in
flig h t" ) . O nce th e tra je c to rie s of b ird and love are shown to be sim ilar
in a few re s p e c ts , th e y a re assum ed to be sim ilar in all re s p e c ts . H ence,
b y in fe re n c e , should th e b ird meet an untim ely d eath u n d e r th e w heels of
a m otorcycle at poem 's e n d , su ch an event would bode ill for th e fu tu re of
th e sp e a k e r's s u it. Any o th e r ex ten sio n s of th e analogy th e re a d e r m ight
wish to m ak e --g a rn e rin g m eaning in th e em pty n e s t, o r p ro b in g for o th e rs
59
in th e anatom ical re sid u e of fe a th e rs and en tra ils--w o u ld be p e rfe c tly
acceptable to th e p o e t. In a Movement poem, m eaning may o r may not be
e x p re sse d in th e form of an image flash in g a cro ss th e gap betw een man
and n a tu re , b u t im agery se c u rin g a parallel betw een man and n a tu re c a n
n o t, in th e v e ry n a tu re of th e in d u c tiv e /d e d u c tiv e p ro c e ss, be b ro u g h t
into p lay .
In G unn's poem, as in most Movement poem s, th e p ro cess begins w ith
an exam ination o f carefu lly selected and delim ited details from a scen e.
In th e firs t fo u r lines one is show n, from th e e n tire lan d scap e sp re ad out
b efo re th e p o e t, only b ird s whose activ ities d isp lay "some hidden purpose."
T he n ex t fo u r lines quick ly and carefu lly d ire c t th e re a d e r's aro u sed
in te re s t and c u rio sity about th is "p u rp o se" tow ard th e specific frame in
which th e activ ities of th e se b ird s a re to be s e e n : th e lim ited context of
a com parison w ith m an's "u n c e rta in violence" of m ovem ent. T h ese lines
also foreshadow a n d , in a clev er "d isso lv e ," p ro v id e tra n sitio n to , th e
o th e r com ponent of th e sc e n e --a group of m otorcyclists who, in th e n ex t
eig h t lin e s, echo (an d fail to echo) th e "g u st of b ird s " w ith th e ir thunder.
T he elem ents of harm ony an d th e elem ents of conflict betw een man and
n a tu re are now in p lace, and th e "principle" to be in d u ced from th is
co m p ariso n /co n trast betw een th e g race and fluency of b ird s and th e
m ovments of man tow ard p u rp o se and direction begin to em erge. T he
n e x t eig h t lines s ta te and elaborate th e p ro p o sitio n : c re a tu re s in n a tu re
tak e th e ir p u rp o se s from in s tin c t, w hereas m en, re sp o n d in g to th is faint
call only w ith m otion, m ust c re a te them selves and th e ir m eanings, m ust
"m anufacture b o th m achine and soul, / And u se w hat th e y im perfectly
control / To d a re a fu tu re from th e tak e n ro u te s ." T he rem ainder of th e
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poem co n sists of a sh ift of th e p rin cip le a cro ss th e gap betw een n a tu re
and th e specifically hum an realm and a d e d u ctiv e application of it to
elem ents of th e hum an p lig h t. E ven th e in d iv id u al stan zas move in th is
d ire c tio n , from th e specific to th e g en eral; and th e poem concludes finally
with a d ire c t statem ent b y th e poet th a t th o u g h man can n e v e r rea ch an
"a b so lu te ," as long as he rem ains in m otion, like th e b ird s , he has a
chance of m oving tow ard it.
T h at Movement poets w ere to some e x te n t aw are of th is p ro g re ssio n
can be seen in some of th e ir rem arks about th e ir p o e try . In rem ark s
p refa cin g th e ir co n trib u tio n s to D. J . E n rig h t's Poets of th e 1950’s , for
exam ple, C onquest say s th a t "p o e try can generalize th e emotional and
sen su o u s (as well as th e in tellectu al) a sp e c ts of th e scene it d e sc rib e s.
It m ust not m erely re tre a t to th e in d iv id u al o b se rv e r, b u t ra ise his
in d iv id u ality in to g en erality " ( p . 32). A nd E lizabeth Je n n in g s rem ark s;
"My aim is to g et beyond th e p u re ly p erso n al ex p erien c e. For me, p o e try
is a way of d isco v ery b u t not ju st se lf-d isco v e ry " (p . 68).
To cite th e ex isten ce of a common rh e to ric a l s tra te g y b e n ea th th e
su rfa ce of most Movement poems is not to im ply th a t th is p ro c e ss was e v e r
ad u m b rated form ally o r th a t any of th e poets was consciously aw are of
following a m ethod. C o n q u est's "A ntheor" contains th e c le a re st indication
of how fa r th e ex isten ce 6f a common p a tte rn e v e r ro se to th e level of
conscious aw areness in any of th e p o e ts’ m inds. In answ er to a q u estio n
posed e a rlie r in th e poem ("W hat can a poet do with a la n d sc a p e ? "),
C onquest p ro p o ses te n ta tiv e ly : "E x p re ss th e u n iv e rse in term s of p a rts /
C hosen to illu stra te all time and sp ace, / D educing th en beyond th o se
im ages / T he g en eral essen ce of all hum an h e a rts" (NL, p . 75). And
61
th o u g h th e poet re je c ts for a time th e p o ssib ility of a rriv in g at tr u th
th ro u g h th is in d u c tiv e /d e d u c tiv e m ethod ("T h e emblems are too c ru d e " ),
he ends w ith: "And y et each day p ro v id es its co n trib u tio n / Of vision to
c o n stru c tin g th a t solution" (NL, p . 76). It is not su rp risin g that Conquest,
who selected th e poems for New L in e s, should be a ttra c te d to p o e try
w hich ap p ro ach es re a lity in th e same was as his ow n. T he Movement
s ta te g y , th e n , is m erely th e in ev itab le re s u lt of th e in te rp la y betw een
th e philosophic prem ises from which th e p o ets p ro ceed ed and th e aesthetic
goals tow ard w hich th e y a sp ire d , both of w hich th e y fre q u e n tly discussed,
o rally and in p rin t.
A nd th e m ethod should n o t, of c o u rse , be dism issed as a p a in t-b y -th e
. a
num bers p ro c e d u re , a piece of poetic m ach in ery , a collection of tric k s by
which a 97-pound poet can become a lite ra ry C h arles A tlas. It is a d is
ciplined mode o f a p p re h e n d in g re a lity th a t, from a rh e to ric a l point of
view , is extrem ely rig o ro u s. Unlike th e rh e to ric a l p ro g ressio n of
M odernist o r Rom antic p o e try , which is su b ject to validation only at one
(fre q u e n tly subm erged) tra n s itio n --th e leap from "T hese have sim ilar
directio n" to "T h ese a re p a ra lle l" --th e Movement p a tte rn en co u rag e s,
even re q u ire s , cold s c ru tin y at th re e p o in ts: "I in d u ce th is p rin c ip le ,"
T apply th is p rin cip le in a new c o n te x t," an d "I deduce th is application
of th e p rin c ip le ."
Nor is th e p ro c e d u re , w ith its fre q u e n t ap p eals to th e re a d e r's
critical fa c u ltie s, one w hich forces e v e ry poet in to th e same mold. An
exam ination of ty p ical poems from all th e c o n trib u to rs to New Lines will
dem onstrate th a t, w ithin th e common rh e to ric a l fram e, th e re is a g re a t
deal of c re a tiv e v a rie ty in p e rsp e c tiv e .
62
Of all th e poets in th is anthology, E lizabeth Je n n in g s is most concerned
w ith .riv etin g th e re a d e r’s atten tio n to th e p rec ise d etails of th e immediate
scene w hich is th e so u rce of th e proposition o r in s ig h t. She is draw n to
c h ia ro sc u ro , and details of lig h t and sh ad e are th o se w hich most frequently
evoke th e em otionally-charged in tu itio n o r rev elatio n th a t clim axes h e r
poem s. Unlike most of th e o th e r Movement p o e ts, w ithin h e r poems them
selves she u sually pay s slig h t a tten tio n to application of th is in sig h t to
th e affairs of m en. "F lorence: D esign fo r a C ity ," while not h e r b e st
poem, well illu stra te s c h a ra c te ristic co n cern s and m akes an im portant
point about Movement p o e try in g en eral:
T ake one bow l, one valley
A ssisted b y hills to peace
A nd let th e hills hold back th e wind a little
O nly tu rn in g th e tre e s
O nly d iv id in g th e shadow s
With a simple movement of su n
A cross th e v a lley 's face.
And th e n se t c y p re ss e s u p ,
So d a rk th e y seem to contain th e ir re p e a te d shadow s
In a s tra ig h t and up w ard le a p ,
So d a rk th a t th e su n seem s to avoid them to show
How a u ste re th e y a re , s tiff, adm onishing g e stu re s
Tow ards th e c ity , y et also p ro tec tiv e
To th e deep ho u ses th a t th e su n m akes more d eep .
H ere I say th e m ind is o p en , is free d ;
A nchored only to fra ile st th o u g h ts , we are
T rium phantly su b d u e d to th e lig h t's full g la re .
It is simple th e n to be a s tr a n g e r ,
To have a mind th a t is wide
To perm it th e city to se ttle betw een o u r th o u g h ts ,
As betw een th o se h ills, and flow er and glow in sid e .
(N L, p p . 4-5)
H er concern with co n tro llin g th e re a d e r's a tte n tio n , w ith elim inating
e x tra n eo u s and d istra c tin g d e ta il, is so g re a t th a t she b e g in s w ith an
63
im perative sen ten ce v irtu a lly dem anding th a t th e re a d e r reb u ild th e city
a rc h ite c h to n ic a lly . T he re a d e r is p u t to w ork in s ta n tly , his h a n d s k e p t
b u s y , so as to elim inate th e p o ssib ility th a t h isto rical o r c u ltu ra l associa
tions w ith th is fabled city will d is ru p t th e p re s e n t moment. If you wish
to p e n e tra te th e tr u th of th is c ity , she s a y s , c le ar y o u r m ind. B rin g '
w ith you n o th in g b u t th e e y e. A tten d f irs t to th e se flow ing, fundam en
tally h o rizontal lin e s, th e n to th e se s h a rp , a b ru p t v e rtic a ls; th e se a re
all th e tr u th th e re is . T his is th e p rin c ip le : H orizontals, v e rtic a ls , lig h t
and sh ad e. A pply th is now to m an, y o u rse lf. When th e re a d e r can see
th a t a n y th in g else in th e scene is a p ro jec tio n , he is " fre e d ." "It is
simple th e n to be a s tr a n g e r ," to accept o n e's e x iste n tia l condition, to
u n d e rs ta n d th a t n a tu re has no claim on man and is in d ep en d en t of his
will. T ak in g n a tu re for w hat it is , we can find b e au ty in o u r d istan ce
from it and "perm it th e city to se ttle betw een o u r th o u g h ts ."
T his poem , like many Movement poem s, makes it point b y w hat it
does not c o n ta in . "N egative sp a c e ," th e a rc h ite c t would call it: not th e
absence of m aterial, b u t th e p resen c e of sp a ce , placed th e re by th e
view er who ex p ected to e n co u n ter a solid wall an d finds th e ghost of one
in ste a d . T he c ritic who lacks u n d e rsta n d in g --w h o h as p e rh a p s n e v e r
e n co u n tered th e void in w hich he sta n d s--w ill call th is a "nothing" poem ,
and complain b itte rly about "th in te x tu r e ," "absence of feelin g ,"
"n arro w n ess of v isio n ," o r "unw illingness to g et in v o lv e d ." He will stop
sh o rt of aw aren ess th a t h is puzzlem ent o r fru s tra tio n o r a n g er is p a rt of
th e poetic m aterial w ith which th e poet is w orking, is p a rt o f th e poem 's
m eaning: "T h at is all th e re is , b u t th a t em ptiness can make you fre e ."
T he poem th a t is not w ritten fre q u e n tly h o v e rs behind a Movement
64
poem , and th e in te rp la y betw een th e two y ield s much of its m eaning. To
some e x te n t th is reso n an ce is ev id en t in Jo h n Holloway's poem , "T he
C o n flu en ce," th o u g h th e poem is chiefly in te re s tin g for th e change o f
em phasis given th e th re e ste p s of its arg u m en tativ e seq u en ce.
He and she make an ocean
Of all com plexity:
When not th e lig h te st motion
T ro u b les th e u p p e r se a,
S tin g ra y and sq u id and decapod
Q u a rte r th e still u n c h a rte d b e d .
And when a b ree ze may ru ffle
T he w ater w hite, o r b lack ,
O r p a ssin g steam er sh u ffle
Its wake acro ss its back,
N othing at all d is tu rb s th e deep
Where th e ir blind m onsters d rift and sleep.
W isely, th e y only c ru ise
Up on th e su rfa c e h e re ,
Not in co n tin en tly u se
Plummet and b a th y s p h e re :
T he w aters m ix, th e y need not ask
R ashly what draw s them to th e ir ta s k . (NL, p . 9)>
Like E lizabeth Je n n in g s, Holloway s trip s th e fo reg ro u n d scene to its
e sse n tia ls an d in h ib its any ten d en cy on th e p a rt of th e re a d e r to tru n d le
on o r let in from th e flies any b ack d ro p o f associations o r evocations from
h is own storeroom of memory. T he minimum details of th e seascape n e c e s
s a ry to in d u ce th e pro p o sitio n th a t n a tu re h as h id d en and m ysterious
d e p th s are g iv en , and th e re a d e r is allowed no access to sen su o u s detail
th a t m ight encourage him to resp o n d w ith emotional p iro u e tte s . B ut
Holloway, in th is as in all h is poem s, is m uch less concerned th a n Jennings
w ith e ith e r of th e firs t two s te p s -- th e in d u ctio n of th e p rin cip le and its
change of v e n u e . Je n n in g s is draw n to th e sen su o u s com ponents of h e r
65
sc e n e s, and it re q u ire s an e ffo rt of th e will for h e r to red u ce th e se to
th e ir u n d e rly in g geom etrical o r anatom ical sh a p e s. It is alm ost as if she
feared b ein g blinded by th e ir s u rfa c e s. HOlloway is not th u s tem pted;
p re fe rrin g a b stra c tio n s, he ap p ro ach es a scene prim arily to seek them .
T he moment of in sig h t for Je n n in g s is fre q u e n tly e c sta tic , sometimes almost
in e x p re s s ib le ; Holloway ex p erien ces le ss emotional release as th e p ro p o si
tion em erges th a n he does sim ple in tellectu al sa tisfac tio n . His co n cern is
prim arily w ithin th e hum an ap p licatio n , in p a rtic u la r th e s tre s s e s w rought
b y th e p assag e of time on rela tio n sh ip s of love and frie n d sh ip .
T his p refe ren c e accounts fo r th e u n u su a l placem ent of th e firs t two
lin e s. In th e ty p ical Movement p a tte rn th e se two lin e s, which begin the
application of th e th e sis to m an, would be placed at th e head of th e th ird
sta n z a . S h iftin g them to th e b eg in n in g of th e poem so a s, from th e s ta r t,
to a le rt th e re a d e r to th e e v en tu al hum an rele v an c e, gives th e seascape a
u n iq u e u n d e rc u rre n t of sex u ality . T he device not only h as th e effect of
co n tro llin g th e d irectio n of d rift in th e re a d e r’s resp o n se to th e seascape
(w ith much less violence th a t Je n n in g s u se s to control th e r e a d e r ) , it
len d s ironic flavor to th e early p a rt o f th e poem, p re p a rin g th e re a d e r
for th e conclusion. T h ere is som ething fain tly baw dy about th e final four
lines th a t, consonant w ith th e "throw aw ay" ending so p o p u lar w ith
Movement p o e ts , tak e s some of th e edge of se rio u sn ess off th e b la d e .
While m any c ritic s re g a rd th is fillip of Movement p o e try w ith s c o r n ,
looking upon it as o v e rt evidence of self-conscious tim idity, th e hum or it
draw s on is a stap le of e x iste n tia l a r t. C onfronted w ith th e e x iste n tia l
double b in d , one can e ith e r weep o r la u g h ; to weep is to ris k s e lf-p ity ,
and th e Movement poets a re co n cern ed about th e ex cess of th is commodity
66
on th e contem porary m ark et. H ence, Holloway’s c o n clu sio n --th a t it is
risk y to look too deeply into th e d e p th s of hum an p a s s io n --s k irts th e edge
of hum or.
A lthough th e m any faces of Philip L ark in 's poems d u rin g th e New
Lines p erio d su g g e st so v a rie d a p e rsp e c tiv e on re a lity th a t it seems im
possible to find in them a family resem blance to one a n o th e r, let alone to
th e Movement c lan , exam ination rev e als th a t th e rh eto rica l seq u en ce estab
lish es a common bloodline; In all th e se poem s, L arkin is o b sessed w ith
th e p assag e of time and th e d ifficu lty man- e n c o u n te rs in his e ffo rts to
e stab lish a tru th fu l and ste ad y relatio n sh ip w ith th e p re s e n t sc en e . As
m ight be e x p e c te d , his a tten tio n is la rg e ly dev o ted to p e rc e p tu a l obstacles
in th e firs t ste p of th e poetic p ro c e ss , and h is h ab it of filte rin g th e scene
th ro u g h v a rio u s tim e -p e rsp e ctiv es make th is ste p seem u n u su ally complex
b y Movement s ta n d a rd s . T he rem aining ste p s a re of much less in te re s t
to L ark in . "I Rem em ber, I Rem em ber” illu s tra te s one of L a rk in 's v a ria
tio n s on th e Movement m atrix:
Coming up E ngland b y a d iffe re n t line
F or o nce, early in th e cold new y e a r,
We sto p p e d , and w atching men w ith n u m b er-p lates
S p rin t down th e platform to fam iliar g a te s,
’W hy, C o v e n try !’ I exclaim ed. 'I was b o rn h e r e .’
I lean t fa r o u t, and sq u in n ied fo r a sig n
T h at th is was still th e town th a t had been ’m ine’
So lo n g , b u t found I w asn’t even clear
Which side was w hich. From w here th o se c y c le -c ra te s
Were s ta n d in g , had we annually d e p a rte d
For all th o se family hols? . . . A w histle w ent:
T h in g s m oved. I sa t b a ck , s ta rin g at my b o o ts.
'Was t h a t , ’ my frien d sm iled, 'w here you "have y o u r ro o ts” ?’
No, only w here my childhood w a ^ u n s p e n t,
I w anted to r e to r t, ju s t w here I s ta rte d :
67
B y now I rve got th e whole place clearly c h a rte d .
O ur g a rd e n , f ir s t; w here I did not in v en t
B linding theologies of flow ers and fr u its ,
And w asn't spoken to b y an old h a t.
And h e re we have th a t splendid family
I n e v e r ra n to w hen I got d e p re sse d ,
T he boys all biceps and th e g irls all c h e s t,
T h eir comic F o rd , th e ir farm w here I could be
'R eally m yself'. I'll n e v e r show y o u , come to th a t,
T he b ra c k e n w here I n e v e r trem bling sat
D eterm ined to go th ro u g h with it; w here she
Lay b a c k , and 'all became a b u rn in g m ist'.
A nd, in th o se o ffice s, my doggerel
Was not set up in b lu n t te n -p o in t, n o r rea d
By a d istin g u ish e d cousin of th e M ayor,
Who d id n 't call and tell my fa th e r: Theve
B efove us 3 -if we c o u ld bu t se e a h e a d --
'You look as if you w ished th e place in H e ll,’
My frien d sa id , 'ju d g in g from y o u r fa c e .' 'Oh well,
I suppose i t ’s not th e p lac e's f a u lt,' I said .
'N othing, like som ething, h a p p e n s-a n y w h e re ;' (N L, p p . 22-23)
We a re p re s e n te d in th e firs t two sta n za s w ith only enough detail from
th e physical scene (p latfo rm , ru n n in g fig u re s , c y c le -c ra te s ) to limn its
p e rim e te rs. T hese few b ru s h s tro k e s are all th e poet was able to assimilate
b efore his p ercep tio n was b lo tte d out b y memory. T he rom antic im pulses
to find in th e scene a link to h is " ro o ts ," an harm onious attachm ent to th e
p h y sical w orld, and an e a sy , p le a sa n t, and co h eren t flow from his p a st
th ro u g h his p re s e n t lead him to p re s s th e scene for th in g s it cannot give
him . T he tr u th he d e riv e s , once he recognizes his ch ild ish ap p ro ach to
th e scen e, is th a t " It's not th e p lac e's fa u lt." N atu re cannot give man an
id e n tity ; th e w orld o u t th e re is going its own w ay.
T his p roposition is th e n c a rrie d o v er and given its hum an corollary in
th e form of a p re c e p t: man should not ex p ect to fin d , as time c a rrie s him
68
along, th a t th e random , c a p ricio u s, and disconnected e n c o u n te rs he has
with th e world will, in a b lin d in g fla sh , su d d en ly coalesce in a m eaningful
d e sig n , h an d in g him h is id e n tity , p lace, and p u rp o se . Man m ust c re a te
h is own id e n tity by firs t le a rn in g to see.
R ecognizing t h i s , and re sp o n d in g to it in th e th ird sta n z a o f th e
poem , th e sp e ak e r mocks him self; in th e fo u rth , fifth , and six th stan zas
he c re a te s , from sn ip p e ts of th e contem porary gothic no v el, a tra v e s ty of
th e rom antic hopes th a t h ad su rg e d in him when he firs t e n co u n tere d th e
sc en e . D raw ing one o r more false p ro p o sitio n s from th e scene to c o n tra st
(fre q u e n tly only by im plication) w ith th e tr u th em bedded th e re is a
fav o rite device of L a rk in 's and one which gives his w ork its special edge
o f iro n y .
T h u s , th e d esig n of th e poem conform s to th e Movement schem e even
th o u g h (1) th e in d u ctiv e p h a se is an illu stra tio n of how not to p e rc e iv e ,
m aking th e sto ry line of th e poem e ssen tially a p a ro d y , and (2) th e
statem ent o f th e p ro p o sitio n , fo r dram atic im pact, comes at th e end of th e
poem . In one way o r a n o th e r, alm ost all of L ark in 's poems d u rin g th is
p erio d deal w ith th e p e rc e p tu a l problem s caused b y th e p a ssa g e of tim e.
K ingsley Amis, like L ark in , is much concerned w ith th e illusions and
fan ta sies th a t m asquerade for man as re a lity . No one among th e Movement
p o e ts , how ever, is as d ed icated as Amis to slay in g th e d rag o n of Rom an
ticism w h erev er it re a rs its u g ly head in th e contem porary poetic scen e.
T he ty p ical p a tte rn of an Am is-on-Rom anticism poem, in fa c t, follows a
tig h t and v e ry sa tisfy in g scen ario b ased on th e th re e -a c t Movement
p a tt e r n :
69
Act I: E n te r th e D rag o n , lay in g w aste th e lan d scap e w ith larg e
feet and heav y b re a th .
A ct II: E n te r Amis to slay th e D rag o n , h is b a n n e r em blazoned with
th e p rin c ip le , Homo Sapiens Omnia V in c it.
Act III: T ea, d u rin g w hich Amis u rb a n e ly sum m arizes th e re s u lts of
th e a u to p sy , and applies th e p rin cip le to th e hum an realm .
"H ere is W here1 ' is a model of th is v ariatio n on th e Movement m ethod (an d
h a s th e ad v an tag e of b re v ity o v e r "A gainst R om anticism ," th e most
sa tisfy in g of Amis' mummers' p la y s ) :
HERE, where the ragged water
Is tw illed and spun over
Pebbles backed like b eetles3
Bright as beer-bottles3
Bits o f i t like snow beaten
Or milk boiling in saucepan . . .
Going well so fa r, eh?
B ut soon, I'm so rry to sa y ,
T he h e re -w h e re recipe
Will have to in tru d e its I,
Its main v e rb want3
Its this, at some ta n g e n t.
What h as th is su b ject
Got to do w ith th a t object?
Why d ra g in
All th a t w ater and stone?
Scream th e place down here3
T h e re 's nobody there.
T he c o u n try , to tow nies,
Is h a rd ly more th a n n ice,
A w indow -box, p re tty
When th e a fte rn o o n 's em pty;
When a v isito r w aits,
T he window s h u ts . (N L, p p . 47-48)
T he d ra g o n , italicized h e re in his lite ra ry c u p s , is clu b b in g th e la n d
scape to d eath w hen Amis e n te rs to skew er it in th e n e x t six lines w ith
70
one of th e most a c c u ra te th r u s ts e v e r aimed at th e neo-R om antics and
th e ir u se of n a tu re to achieve an emotional " h ig h ."
T he n ex t four lines d eftly s ta te th e them e of m an's e sse n tia l isolation
from and c o u n te rin g in d iffe ren c e to n a tu re . T he final eig h t lin e s, equating
"co u n try " with n a tu re and "tow nies" w ith men, apply th e p rin cip le to th e
hum an se ttin g and close th e window on n a tu re w ith a yaw n. O f all of th e
Movement p o e ts, Amis h as th e m ost fu n w ith th e th re e -p h a s e rh eto rica l
m ethod, especially w ith th e in d u ctiv e sc ru tin y of re a lity .
F or D . J . E n rig h t, th e void betw een man and n a tu re is a so u rce of
sp iritu a l a n g u ish r a th e r th a n la u g h te r. He u se s h is p o e try to help him
come to g rip s w ith th e know ledge of his d e a th . T he scen es to which he
is draw n in v ariab ly contain a ten sio n betw een n a tu r e 's in d iffe ren c e to
d eath and m an's o bsession w ith i t . T he poem "T he L aughing H yena, By
H okusai," illu stra te s as well th e Movement p o ets' fre q u e n t: p re fe re n c e
for dealing in th e firs t ste p of th e poetic p ro cess w ith n a tu re a t one
rem o v e --n a tu re m odulated at th e h an d s of a p a in te r o r sc u lp to r who has
p ointed th e way tow ard a u n iv e rsa l p rin cip le in his trea tm e n t of re a lity :
For him, e v e ry th in g was m olten. C ourt ladies flow in gentle
s tre a m s , ' ’
O r, g a th e rin g lo tu s , stra in sidew ays from th e ir c u rv in g b o a t,
A donkey p ra n c e s , o r a k ite dances in th e sk y , o r so a rs like
sacrificial sm oke.
All is flu x : w aters fall and leap , and b rid g e s leap and fall.
E ven his T o rto ise u n d u la te s, and his S p rin g Hat is lively as a
pool of fish .
All he e v e r saw was sea: a sea of m arble s p lin te r s --
Long b rig h t fin g e rs claw acro ss his p a g e s, fjo rd s and isla n d s and
s h a tte re d t r e e s - -
And th e L aughing .vHyena,.: cav alier of ev il, as volcanic as the rest:
E legant in a flow ered gow n, a face like a b o m b -b u rst,
F e a tu re d w ith fan g s and b u ilt about a rig id la u g h ,
E v er m oving, like a p o n d 's su rfa c e w here th e c o rp se h as s u n k .
71
B etw een th e raised talons of th e rig h t h an d r e s ts an o b jec t--
At r e s t, like a pale islan d in a sav ag e s e a --a ch ild 's h e a d ,
Immobile, a u th e n tic , to rn and b lo o d y --
T he point o f rep o se in th e p ic tu re , th e point of movement in u s .
T e rrib le en o u g h , th is dem on. Yet it is p re s e n t and p e rfe c t,
Firm as its h o rn s, c u rlin g among its th ic k and handsom e h a ir.
I find it an h o n est v is ita n t, even consoling, a fte r all
T hose sen ten tio u s phantom s, choked with ra g e and u n c e rta in ty ,
Who grim ace from contem porary p a g e s. I t , at le a s t,
Knows ex actly why it la u g h s . (NL, p p . 56-57)
T his rem arkable poem and Amis' poem above are o b v e rse sid es o f th e
same coin. B oth men confront a scene re fra c te d th ro u g h a n o th e r's e y e s,
b u t re a lity is skew ed b y th e rom antics in "H ere is W here" in a way th a t
allows Amis to rele ase th e feelings evoked in th e form of la u g h te r.
H okusai's len s c a p tu re s and contains th e lig h t in a poised and se ren c e
acceptance of th e e x iste n tia l fa c ts. A cceptance and la u g h te r are th e
yin and y a n g of Movement p o e try .
T he flow of e n e rg y in th is poem is c h a ra c te ristic of th e co n tro l and
re s tra in t d isp lay ed b y Movement p o e try at its b e s t. T he lin ear u n d u la
tio n s c a p tu re d in th e o p enin g lin es g rad u ally tig h te n ; th e edges become
sh a rp e r and more jagged as th e view er ap p ro ach es th e p o rtra it of th e
lau g h in g h y e n a . T he pow erful a rc s b u rs tin g w ith life and movement
c u rl in upon them selves w ith th e in tro d u c tio n of th e h o rrib le fig u re ,
coming to "rep o se" finally in contem plation of th e still c e n te r, d e a th . In
th e firs t h a lf of th e final line of th e second sta n z a th e poet slowly and
e ffo rtle ssly tig h te n s th e coil aro u n d th e fact o f n a tu re 's in d iffe ren c e to
d eath (in d u ctio n of th e prem ise) , m akes th e sh ift of co n tex t out of th e
p a in tin g to th e mind of th e o b se rv e r in th e silence of th e b re a k in th e
line ( tr a n s f e r of th e p re m ise ), th e n b e g in s its uncoiling as th e sen ten ce
72
co n tin u es (application of th e p re m ise ). T he final six lines tak e a side-
blow at rom antic se lf-in d u lg e n c e , b u t only as a m eans o f em phasizing th e
level gaze with which man o u g h t to contem plate th e fact of d e a th . T he
ex p erien ce of e x iste n tia l "d eath " in th is way becom es th e b eg in n in g of
life.
T he in te rp o sin g of a su rro g a te o b se rv e r betw een th e poet and th e
immediate sc e n e --fo r n eg ativ e o r sa tiric e ffe c t, as in th e Amis poem above,
o r for positive am plification, as in th e E n rig h t poem --is b u t one of th e
many devices u sed in Movement p o e try to give v a rie ty of p e rsp e c tiv e on
n a tu re . In th e sim plest p o e t/sc e n e relatio n sh ip of a Movement poem,
Thom G unn’s "On th e M ove," o r E lizabeth J e n n in g s’ "F lorence: D esign
for a C ity ," fo r exam ple, th e w rite r is him self in th e p re se n c e of th e
landscape o r n a tu ra l s e ttin g . T he poet resp o n d s d ire c tly to it in the
p re s e n t, th o u g h time may occasionally be accelerated in th e co u rse of th e
poem to o v erlay sid ereal o r seasonal ch an g es in one a n o th e r, as Jen n in g s
does when she moves th e su n a cro ss th e face of th e v alley .
In th e n ex t o rd e r of com plexity, illu stra te d b y th e Amis and E n rig h t
poem s, th e scene is d iffu sed th ro u g h th e eyes of a n o th e r p e rso n , most
fre q u e n tly a n o th e r a r t i s t , th o u g h o th e r o b s e rv e r s , su ch as th e philoso
p h e r B erk eley in Donald D avie's "T he F o u n ta in ," may be u se d .
On th e th ird level of in tric a c y , th e poet selects o r c o n stru c ts a scene
which in clu d es hum ans o r th e ir a rtifa c ts --a device w hich in tro d u c e s
dram atic ten sio n betw een p ro ta g o n ist and a n ta g o n ist, man and n a tu re .
One m ight eq u ate th is sta g e w ith A eschylus' in tro d u c tio n of th e second
acto r in G reek tra g e d y ; th e p o e t, as C h o ru s, can resp o n d to th e in te r
ch an g es betw een man and n a tu re . Thom Gunn u se s th is device in "Autumn
73
C h a p te r in a N ovel," and L ark in ’s "I R em em ber, I Remember" even has
th e su g g e stio n of a th ird a c to r.
At th e fo u rth tu rn in g of th e s ta ir , th e poets u se hum an fig u re s set
a p p a re n tly ag ain st no b ack g ro u n d of n a tu re at all. Amis’ "N octurne" is
a good exam ple; th e s tre e t c o rn e r w here th e action tak e s place is not an
a rtic u la te environm ent su rro u n d in g th e pe ople b u t a m ere b ack d ro p to
which th e y pay no re g a rd w h a tev e r. A nalysis of th is poem and o th e rs
like it re v e a ls , how ever, th a t n a tu re is p re s e n t--in th is case in th e
"anim al" b eh av io r of th e d ru n k e n sailor and th e couple m aking love in th e
d o o rw ay --an d o p e ra te s as a sig n ifican t fo rce in th e scene th ro u g h th e
people who make u p th e scen e.
Donald D avie's "W oodpigeons at R aheny" is an in te re s tin g exam ple of
th e ten sio n betw een man and n a tu re th a t can be achieved b y th e simple
device of placing a hum an fig u re in th e scene (th e th ird m ethod of d is
ta n c in g d e sc rib e d above) . It is also (re tu rn in g now to th e exam ination
of rh e to ric a l m ethod) an excellent illu stra tio n of how th e th ird ste p of
th e rh e to ric a l seq u en ce can be fo re s h o rte n e d , re q u irin g th e re a d e r to do
m uch of th e w ork in ap p ly in g th e p rin cip le to th e hum an h a b ita t--a lw a y s
w ithin th e guidelines e stab lish ed b y th e p o et:
One sim ple and effectiv e rhym e
O ver and o v e r in th e A pril lig h t;
A nd a touch of th e old time
In th e serving-m an, sto o p in g , ap ro n ed tig h t,
At th e end of th e dappled avenue
To th e easy p h ra s e , 't e r e u - te r e u ',
Mulled o v e r b y th e sleepy d o v e --
T h is was th e poem I had to w rite.
74
White wall w here th e c re e p e rs climb
Y ear a fte r y e a r on th e su n n y sid e;
A nd a to u ch of th e old time
In th e sandalled C ap u ch in 's silent strid e
O ver th e shadow s and th ro u g h th e clear
C u sh io n -so ft wooing of th e e ar
From two meadows aw ay, b y th e d o v e --
T h is was th e poem th a t was d e n ie d .
For w h eth er it was th e fr ia r 's crim e,
His lea n n e ss su d d en ly out of tu n e ;
O r a to u ch of th e old time
In th e given p h ra s e , w ith its u n so u g h t boon
O f lax autum nal atm osphere,
Seemed q u ain t and out of k eep in g h e re ,
I do not k n o w . I know th e dove
O u tsa n g me down th e a fte rn o o n . (N L, p . 70)
T he firs t s ta n z a --th e scene o f th e poem th e poet w ishes to w rite --
co n tain s all th e elem ents of a harm onious rela tio n sh ip betw een man and
n a tu re . It is s p rin g , and th e dove and th e C apuchin fria r seem to move
w ithout frictio n in th e s e ttin g .
B ut som ething about th e scene is d isc o rd a n t, and th e poet m akes
a n o th e r s ta r t in th e second sta n z a , sc ru tin iz in g th e same d etails more
closely fo r th e o v erto n e th a t p re v e n ts th e scene from coming to g e th e r and
yielding a m eaning. No new p h y sical com ponents a re in tro d u c e d , and th e
re a d e r, who e x p ec ts as he s ta r ts th e second sta n za to have h is eye e ith e r
c a rrie d o u tw ard to e n ric h in g d etail as th e scene is expanded o r c a rrie d
inw ard tow ard th e scenic c e n te r from w hich th e poet will e x tra c t his
prem ise, fin d s in ste a d th a t th e p o e t's fru s tr a te d sh a k in g of th e same
b ra n c h e s y ield s no poetic fr u it.
A th ird time th e poet c o n fro n ts th e sc en e , in tru d in g fu rth e r in to th e
poem 's space w ith h is q u e stio n . He receiv es no explanation fo r the
ato n a lity , b u t th in k s he sees w here th e tro u b le lie s --e ith e r in th e fig u re
75
of th e lean fria r o r in th e autum nal associations he him self b rin g s unw il
lingly to th e sc en e . B oth of th e s e d esig n ate man as th e false n o te; e rg o ,
man is a d isco rd in n a tu re . T he d o v e, spokesm an for th e im penetrable
m ysteries of n a tu re , o u tsin g s th e p o et.
T he la st lines of each o f th e f ir s t two stan zas a re clev erly conceived.
T hey a re foreshadow ings and prelim inary sta g e s o f th e statem ent of th e
p rin cip le ; if th e poet w ere following th e Movement seq u en ce e x a c tly , th e y
would be placed ju s t b efo re th e la st two lines of th e poem . S p littin g them
aw ay, which h as th e e ffect of m aking th e poet and his e ffo rts to w rite a
poem in te g ra l p a rts of th e scen e (as if th e C horus w ere m oving p a rt-w a y
in to th e sc e n e , as in S o p h o cles), not only gives th e poem g re a te r dramatic
su s p e n s e , b u t k eep s ch eck in g th e re a d e r’s im pulse to s u rr e n d e r to th e
b e a u ty of th e scene and focuses it on th e p o et’s f r u s tra te d e ffo rts to
b rin g clo su re to th e scene and ro u n d o ff th e in d u ctiv e p ro c e ss.
W ithout th e in cre ase in forw ard movement given b y th is device ("Will
th e poet be able to b rin g th e se th re a d s to g e th e r? ’’) th e re a d e r would not
be c a rrie d so forcefully in to th e void at th e end of th e poem . He would
not feel so s tro n g an u rg e to work his way back th ro u g h th e poem , search
in g th e p h y sical details of th e scene (in much th e same way as th e a u th o r
did) fo r an u n d e rs ta n d in g o f th e reaso n fo r th e ten sio n betw een th e human
and n a tu ra l com ponents of th e s e ttin g . And he would n o t, th e re fo re ,
ex p erien ce w hat th e poet w ished to sh a re as his "application to man" —
th a t th e re is no ratio n al explanation for man’s e x iste n tia l iso latio n , th a t
th e f r ia r ’s le a n n e ss, th e b a r r ie r of "old tim es," and th e autum nal asso cia
tions b ro u g h t to s p rin g a re not in them selves ad eq u ate rea so n s for man’s
isolation. T he isolation sim ply is . T he s tru c tu re of th e poem does not
76
allow th e re a d e r to go beyond th is p o in t; any e ffo rts to im pose e x p la n a
tio n s from philosophical system s o u tsid e th e poem are c u t off b ecau se of
th e d e lib era te p a u city of detail and absence of im agery to u se as a s p rin g
b o ard . T he poem is rem arkable fo r its economy and fo r its containm ent
of re a d e r re sp o n se .
P oets at th e c u ttin g edge of any new d e p a rtu re in form o r su b sta n c e
will alw ays expend much of th e ir c re a tiv e e n e rg y in ex p lan atio n o f or
polem ics fo r th e ir a rtis tic a p p ro a ch . R a rely , how ever, does any group of
p o ets evolve a tech n iq u e w hich perm its th e w ritin g of a poem and its
an aly sis at th e same tim e. R obert C onquest is unique in h is ab ility to
combine a v e rs e tre a tis e on p o e try w ith a poem illu s tra tin g th e th e o ry .
T h is skill is com parable to b e in g able to ju g g le and applaud o n eself at th e
same tim e. His im pulse to footnote his poem as he goes along d o e s, how
e v e r, account for th e fre q u e n t d ifficu lty th e re a d e r can e x p erien c e in
seein g th e d esig n th e p o e try sh a re s w ith th e o th e r Movement p o e ts . Of
all of C o n q u e st's poems in New L in e s, th e one w ith th e lea st shadow of
polemic p u rp o se ath w art its s tru c tu re and th e one w hich most clearly
illu stra te s his c h a ra c te ristic u se of th e rh eto rica l model he sh a re s with
* -
o th e r p o ets in th e volume is "N ear Jakbhselv,,:
D w arf willow, b ilb e r r y , b o g c o tto n ; a land of la k e s ,
And to th e n o rth a flat tra n s p a re n t ocean
T h a t s tre tc h e s to th e ic e -e a p . F or th o se millions
Of frozen to n s are alw ays som ewhere th e re ,
T hough out o f sig h t now and fa r at th e back of th e mind
In th e long hot d ay an d th e g ree n efflo rescen ce.
T he in se c ts pipe and d ro n e . T he a rtic sk y ,
A v e ry pale b lu e , com pletely b a re of cloud,
Lays down its h a u n tin g m idnight on th e tu n d ra .
T h ere is no hum an tra c e fo r h o u rs behind u s ,
And now we lie and sle ep , o r w atch th e new
77
A rtie world th a t rise s like a m ayfly
O ut of each m elting w inter and n e v e r grow s old,
B ut d ie s. N othing h ere
Is in connexion w ith th e c e n tra l p la n e t,
With th e long h isto rie s and th e hum an v isio n .
I ts im ages a re not o u rs . T his sp eed and b rig h tn e ss
A re in n o cen t of p u rp o se . And in th a t h u g e re tu rn in g
W inter th a t w aits in th e n o rth th e re is no moral
--T h e ice b e a rs no relatio n to th e a n g e r.
I lie an d liste n
To th e d eso latin g c ry of an eagle.
P e rh a p s
T his v e ry new ness and th is isolation
May s trik e some h id d en trem or in th e h e a rt
And make its rock g u sh w a ter.
My companion
S leep s, sc arc ely b re a th in g , on th e b lu e -g re e n lich en .
And a fain t u n c h an g in g rad ian ce p lay s on u s
O ut of th e whole yo u n g lan d sca p e, as I lie an d w atch for h o u rs
T he m otionless lake and th e g reb e d iv in g . (N L, p p . 80-81)
Like D avie's "W oodpigeons at R a h en y ," th is poem is an e ffo rt to b rin g
to g e th e r th e hum an and n a tu ra l com ponents of a scene in a single meaning.
Yet th e s tra te g y of th e poem , th e mood it c re a te s , and th e im pressions of
th e conclusion reach ed are v e ry d if fe re n t.
T he poem opens in th e fo reg ro u n d of th e sc en e , w ith its liv in g and
life -g iv in g elem ents, flora and w a ter. A b ru p tly th e scene is d a rk e n e d ,
how ever, b y th e rem in d er th a t frozen d eath w aits beyond th e h o rizon.
H ere, as in D avie's poem , th e poet in tru d e s , d raw in g early a tten tio n to a
p ossible hum an p a ra lle l--a relatio n sh ip betw een th e frozen w astes beyond
and " th in g s fa r at th e back of th e m in d "--fo r th e sake o f dram atic s u s
p en se and lim itation o f th e re a d e r's atten tio n to a single p a ra lle l.
In th e second sta n z a , th e fo reg ro u n d is once more b ro u g h t in to focus;
fauna and a n o th e r hum an fig u re a re a d d e d . T he p ro ce ss o f sp atial iso la
tion is co n tin u ed b y an g lin g th e cam era u pw ard to th e lim itless sk y and
78
b ackw ards along th e em pty p a th tow ard civilization.
T he sp atial isolation of living th in g s com plete, sta n z a th re e p u ts a
void of time a ro u n d them : th is moment is to have no p a s t, no fu tu re ,
only a p re c a rio u s and p o ig n an t p re s e n t. In th e middle of th is sta n z a ,
w ith th e same a b ru p tn e s s as th e em ergence of life from n o th in g n e ss in th e
tu n d ra , th e poet draw s h is in fe re n c e : th is m iniscule islan d of life , which
in clu d es th e m an, is to tally a p a rt from both th e ongoing life of n a tu re and
th e ongoing life of man as h e am asses it in h is ’’h isto rie s" and " v is io n s .’’
S tanza fo u r elab o rates and applies th e p rin cip le to m an: iike th e
p lan ts and in se c ts of th is place view ed in th e c o n tex t of th e ir b rie f d a y ,
th e two hum ans seen in th e c o n te x t of th e irs a re iso lated . T h ey a re w ith
out th e "p u rp o se" assum ed fo r th e moment to e x ist e lse w h e re . E ven death,
"in th a t h uge re tu rn in g / W inter" h as no "m oral" o r m eaning in th e lives
of any of th e isolated living th in g s ; th e a n g e r of th e gods cannot be rea d
in to them , n o r can any o th e r a ttitu d e ex cep t in d iffe re n c e .
S tanza five co n tin u es th e ap p licatio n . Unlike its ram ifications in th e
Davie poem , how ever, th e se n se of e x iste n tia l isolation invoked h e re "may
strik e some h id d en trem or in th e h e a rt / And make its ro ck g u sh w a te r."
T he moment, in all its im perm anence and lack o f connection to a n y th in g
la r g e r, h as b e a u ty th e poet cannot b e a r to sleep aw ay. T he final p ic tu re
-- th e g reb e d iv in g above a m otionless lak e --ec h o es m an’s p o stu re in th e
u n iv e rse in a ra re u se o f im a g e ry .
C onfronted w ith th is same sc e n e , Jo h n Wain, th e la s t poet in th e New
L ines a n th o lo g y , would p ro b ab ly p u t on d a rk g lasses and make tra c k s fo r
Ja k o b se lv --n o t b ecau se n a tu re b o res him , b u t b ecau se he finds its
b e a u tie s too com pelling. T h is "man on a tig h tro p e " is so su sce p tib le to
79
n a tu re ’s lu re th a t it re q u ire s an act of will to avoid le ttin g it overpow er
him. At firs t glance th e p o e try yields no evidence of any internal s tru g g le
w i t h n a t u r e 's se n su o u s appeal; th e su rfa c e seem s, in fa c t, coldly
ratio n al when not p o sitiv ely sco rn fu l of affectiv e c o n c e rn s. In tim e, how
e v e r, th e m echanism s of re p re ssio n become a p p a re n t.
"R eason fo r Not W riting O rthodox N atu re P o etry " deals more d ire c tly
th a n most of Wain’s o th e r poems w ith th is dim ension of his w ork and reveals
th e co nsequences of it in th e rh e to ric a l s tru c tu re :
T he Ja n u a ry sk y is deep and calm,
T he m ountain sp raw ls in com fort, and th e sea
S leeps in th e crook of th a t enorm ous arm .
A nd n a tu re from a simple re c ip e --
R ocks, w a ter, m ist, a su n lit w in te r's d a y --
Has brew ed a cup whose s tre n g th h as dizzied me.
So little b e a u ty is enough to p ay ;
T he h e a rt so soon yields up its sto re o f love,
A nd w here you love you cannot b re a k aw ay.
So sa g es n e v e r found it h a rd to p ro v e
Nor p ro p h e ts to d eclare in m etaphor
T h a t God and N atu re m ust be h an d in glove,
And th is becam e th e b a sis of th e ir lo re .
T hen la te r p o ets found it easy going
To give th e public w hat th e y b a rg a in e d fo r,
And like a spectacled c u ra to r show ing
T he w ares of his museum to th e crow d,
T h ey y e a rly w axed m ore eloquent and know ing
More slick , more p h o to g rap h ic, and more p ro u d :
From T en n y so n w ith notebook in h is h an d
(H is tr u th to N atu re fits him like a sh ro u d )
To m oderns who dev o u tly hym n th e la n d .
So be it: each is welcome to h is voice;
T h ey are a g e n tle , if a u se less b a n d .
80
B ut leave me free to make a s te r n e r choice;
C o n ten t, w ithout em bellishm ent, to note
How little b e a u ty b id s th e h e a rt rejoice,
How little b e a u ty catch es at th e th r o a t.
Sim ply, I love th is m ountain and th is bay
With love th a t I can n e v e r speak b y ro te ,
And w here you love you cannot b re a k aw ay. (N L, p p . 83-84)
T he rig id ly re s tra in e d f irs t te rc e t is v irtu a lly all th e a tte n tio n th a t is
paid to th e p h y sical sc en e , and its major c o m p o n en ts--th e m ountain and
th e s e a --a re im m ediately tran sm u ted in to an im plied hum an image to d ire c t
and cushion th e ir im pact. T he second te rc e t sh ifts a tte n tio n to th e
o b s e rv e r, who is almost overcom e by th e sc en e , and th e firs t two lines of
th e th ird quickly adduce th e p rin cip le : n a tu re ’s a ttra c tio n s a re too
pow erful for m an's lim ited ability to m aintain h is balance.
T his p rin cip le is th e n im m ediately applied to hum an co n cern s in th e
form of a capsule in te rp re ta tio n of th e h isto ry of rom antic p o e try whose
th e sis is sta te d at th e o u tse t: man cannot "b rea k aw ay" to be him self, to
follow his own d e stin y , u n til he b re a k s th e h y p n o tic hold o f n a tu re on
h is se n se s.
Fully th re e q u a rte rs of th e poem is devoted to th is th ir d rh e to ric a l
s te p : d em o n stratin g th a t th e easy and com forting assum ption (d eriv e d
from m an’s overw helm ing su sc e p tib ility to th e p h y sical b e a u ty of th is
w orld) th a t n a tu re is G od's book and man may find him self in its pages
h as led , from th e sag es and p ro p h e ts to th e m odern neo-R om antics, to
failu re to "b re a k aw ay," to be fre e , and to make th e " s te rn e r choice" of
allowing th e re s t of his b e in g to develop. T he p o e t’s e x iste n tia l decision
to re s is t th e m etaphors w hich b in d man emotionally to n a tu re 's p u rp o se
81
does not m ean, how ever, a to tal closing of th e city g a te s; th e second t e r
cet in d icates th a t p a rt of m an, p a rt of th e p o e t, will always resp o n d with
love to th e w orld b ey o n d .
T hese n in e poem s, selected to in d icate th e v a rie ty of individual poetic
p e rsp e c tiv e and m ethod available w ithin th e confines of th e philosophical
and aesth e tic field common to th e p o ets of New L in e s, are b y no means
fully re p re s e n ta tiv e of th e full ran g e of th e ir ta le n ts . T he lim iting p u r
pose of e sta b lish in g th a t a common rh e to ric a l m ethod e x is ts --o n e d eriv ed
from sim ilar assum ptions about m an's sta n c e in th e u n iv e rs e , th e pressures
and p o ten tials o f th e tim es, and th e a esth e tic co n seq u en ces of b o th — neoes-
sa rily im plies selection of ty p ical ra th e r th a n o u tsta n d in g poem s. Since
th e rh e to ric a l p a tte r n is common to all th e poems in th e anthology, o th e r
choices would have been acceptable b u t m ight not h av e c h arac terize d th e
in d iv id u al p o ets as well.
A dequate p ro o f of th e e x isten ce of such a th in g as "Movement" p o e try
--p o e try w hich has d istin c tiv e philosophical ro o ts, c h a ra c te ristic poetic
tech n iq u es fo r unfo ld in g its m eaning, and a unique rh e to ric a l configuration--
re q u ire s a b rie f e ffo rt to e stab lish th a t th e poetic norm fo r th e re s t of
th e ir field is sig n ific an tly d iffe re n t. M av erick s, a collection o f th e w orks
of yo u n g p o ets not in clu d ed in New L in e s, b u t w ritin g a t th e same tim e,
a p p eared in 1957. As y e t, no c ritic h as been able to d istin g u ish "Maverick"
p o e try from th a t contained in New L in e s, in clu d in g th e e d ito rs , who wrote:
As New L in e s, an anthology containing th e w ork of nine of "T he
Movement" p o e ts, h as rec en tly a p p e a re d , we feel it is an a p p ro
p ria te time to p u b lish a p arallel anthology p re s e n tin g th e w ork of
an equal num ber of poets o u tsid e "T he Movement" (all b o rn 1920
o r a fte r) to sta n d com parison w ith New L in e s. We m ust emphasise
th a t th e p o ets we have chosen fo r th is p u rp o se --D a v id W right,
82
J . C . Hall, D annie A bse, V ernon S cannell, Michael H am burger,
John Sm ith, A nthony C ro n in , W. P rice T u rn e r, and Jon S ilk in --
c an n o t, in any sen se , be re g a rd e d as an opposing "school."
Each is p u rs u in g his own line of developm ent and o u r in te n tio n is
to p re s e n t them as individual poets who a re not connected with
"T he M ovem ent," b u t whose w ork should not be overlooked on
th a t a c c o u n t.43
D espite th e e d ito r's a sse rtio n s th a t th e y had "no in te n tio n of p re s e n tin g
th e p o e ts ...a s a g ro u p in any w ay, still less as oppo sin g school," th e re
is a rem arkable d eg ree of c o n sisten cy among th e se p o ets in th e a ttitu d e
th e y tak e tow ard n a tu re and th e rh e to ric a l s tra te g y w hich in ev itab ly
follows from i t.
All of th e poets in M av erick s, w ithout ex cep tio n , assum e as a major
prem ise th a t man is alienated from n a tu re ; th is much th e y sh a re w ith th e
Movement p o e ts. T he critic a l d isag reem en ts o ccu r in th e ir m inor prem ise
-- th e neo-R om antic assum ptions th a t th e schism is u n n a tu ra l, th a t th e blame
fo r it may in one way o r a n o th e r be a ttrib u te d to m an, and th a t m an's ,
m ission in life is to find h is way back to his lost E den.
J . C. Hall, like th e o th e rs in th is an th o lo g y , re g a rd s n a tu re as G od's
book. He concludes "O H appy C ircum stance" with
Now as a man I sta n d betw een
N atu re and God to le a rn th e ir laws ,
T he effect is h e re , b u t still I seek
F a r, fa r b ack th e c a u s e .44
In "T he B u rn in g H are" he hopes th a t
. . . leg e n d a ry lore m ight still unlock
R iddles o f blin d ex p erien ce
If h e a r t, not head, could re a d th a t book
W herein th e h iero g ly p h s of time
A re s e t- -n a tu r e and b e ast and man
One in th e g re a t h erald ic rhym e. (M av erick s, p . 16)
83
In "T he C rack" he w ishes th a t
. . . th e b ro k en e a rth ,
Would s h u d d e r, creatio n close its w ound,
T he g ard en re v e rb e ra te w ith th e voice
I hid from once, now ru n to fin d . (M avericks, p . 18)
In "T he P lay g ro u n d b y th e C hurch" he se n se s hidden m eanings:
T h is is an h o u r w hen much m ight be revealed
I f cu rio u s conscience closed its daybook u p ,
As n ig h tly th e flow ers th a t blazon from th e se b ed s
C loister th e ir colors in th e p e ta l's c u p .
T hen heavenly in flu en ces c a re ss th e ir h e a d s.
So, in th e w horl of d a rk n e s s , a dream 's concealed.
(M av erick s, p . 17)
D avid W right's "A V isit to a Poet" in jail concludes th a t m an's society
is in h e re n tly c o rru p t and th a t p o e try cannot flo u rish w ithout n a tu re 's
freedom (p . 21). "Moral S to ry II" in v e rts th e sto ry of the fall of man in
th e legend of G laucus, who lo st his ro o ts in th e n a tu ra l w orld w hen he
ate of C ro n u s' fo rb id d en g ra s s ; now a god, he m ourns h is se p a ra tio n from
n a tu re (p p . 21-23). "V erses to S t. Cecilia" is a p ra y e r re q u e s tin g h e r to
"H ear, as I cannot h e ar" in th e "d iso rd e re d silence" occasioned b y his
sym bolic ( as well a s h is p h y sical) d e afn ess to n a tu re ; he concludes w ith
th e hope th a t "T he u n se en governm ent / Shall be made visible / And
unknow n m usic ra ise (p p . 23-24). "Monologue of a D eaf Man" se ek s to
"p raise out of a q u iet e a r / T he g re a t creatio n to which I owe I am / My
g rie f and my love" (p . 25).
All of V ernon S cannell's p o e try in th is collection p ro ceed s from another
fam iliar rom antic a ssu m p tio n --th e "lost innocence" of childhood. C hildren,
like anim als, live in harm ony w ith n a tu r e ; hum an society g rad u a lly corrupts
84
in n ate g o o d n ess. "Schoolroom on a Wet A fternoon" concludes:
Each child is d iscip lin ed ; ab so rb ed and still
At h is small d e sk . Yet lift th e lid and se e ,
Am idst fray e d books and p e n cils, o th e r sh a p e s:
Vicious ro p e , g larin g b lad e, th e gun cocked to k ill.
(M av erick s, p . 26)
"G unpow der Plot" ju x ta p o se s th e firew orks of childhood w ith th e real
g u n s of ad u lt w ar ( p . 28). In "T he Word of Love" he re p o rts th a t as he
grew to manhood he "somehow lost th e h ab it of lo v e ," and he re fe rs to
th e absence of h is lo st love (n a tu re , God) as "a m ortal illn ess" ( p . 29).
In "T he U n su ccessfu l Poet" Scannell p ic tu re s th e poet in h is society as
th e in ev itab le "victim of an evil age" in w hich one "can see th e b ra n c h of
tr u th succum b / To th e appalling d ry -ro t of am bition" ( p . 30).
D anny A bse, fixedly catholic, re g a rd s n a tu re as G od's roadm ap.
In d ee d , "Looking at a Map" se ts up an equation in w hich th e map and th e
co u n try it re p re s e n ts are se t in parallel w ith th e p h y sical world as a
c ru d e outline of divine tr u th (p . 34). "M aster" is a p ra y e r: "With a
white stick I walk Y our sa c re d s tre e t / fo r w hen Y our lig h ts go on th e y
make me b lin d . / L o rd , if I flee, You are n e v e r fa r behind" (p . 31).
"L e tte r to th e Tim es" is a sa tire on th e anthropom orphism of th e n o n
b eliev er who m akes n a tu re o v e r into his own image (p p . 35-36).
Michael H am b u rg er's "Man in a G arden" h as "His leg s in C roydon,
head for Eden b o u n d ," and "d ig s till his mind is b a re / Yet in its darkness
holds one m etaphor: / S ta rs in th e d a rk and out of soil a flow er!" (p . 39).
His "A fter C h ristm a s," a s a tire on man’s rejectio n of th e w orld of th e
s p ir it, sp eak s of "th e second sta te " of men and th e ir m ission to "pierce
th e ir w eekday heaven th a t h id es th e s ta r ." (p . 41).
85
Joh n Sm ith's "W alking on S tilts" p a in ts an idyll o f in n o cen t childhood
in harm ony w ith n a tu re (p . 42). "T he B irth of V e n u s," which p u ts th e
a d v en t of divine love in th e w orld in classical te rm s, a s s e rts th e prim acy
o f feeling o v e r th in k in g as a m eans o f u n d e rs ta n d in g n a tu re : "O f Heaven,
o r Hell, we n o th in g know / Save w hat th ro u g h Love we u n d e rs ta n d " (p .
45) . S m ith's "Advice to Swimmers" is a s a tire on existentialism and its
"v ast seas of d o u b t" (p . 46).
A nthony C ro n in , like V ernon S can n ell, w rites p rin cip ally of lost
innocen ce; hum an society in ev itab ly d e stro y s t r u th . In "S u rp rise " we
find in m an's w orld th a t
N othing is o rd e r now and no fo recast
Can be d ep en d ed on since w h at's declared
To be may not be so , an d .each face w ears
A false e x p re ssio n . (M av erick s, p . 48)
A gain, one of th e p rin cip al c au se s of m an’s se p ara tio n from th e tr u th of
n a tu re is la n g u a g e --" O u r happiness is easily w ronged b y sp e e c h " --b y
which man d is to rts n a tu re "In h is fe a r of in v isib le th in g s" ("W ritin g ,"
p . 50).
A n o th er who d ecries lo st innocence is W. P rice T u rn e r. "Snowman"
is an elegy fo r "all magic bled away" w hen th e child e n te rs th e adult
w orld; "P e rh a p s we m ust be b o rn again / to h e a r ," he su g g e sts ( p . 55).
Like o th e rs in th is volume who tak e th e P e te r Pan approach to grow ing up,
T u rn e r sees th e ad u lt world sym bolized in its lan g u ag e: "Words a re th e
only sym bols th a t we know . / th e y a re not valid w here we wish to go: /
th e snow m an's only idiom is snow" (p . 55). T y p ically , too, T u rn e r sees
little in ad u lt society b u t a d rift tow ard A rm ageddon; in "E v ery Man His
86
Own O racle" he w rites: "Pompeii and Hiroshim a spilled / b u t two small
fe a th e rs from y o u r fledgling w ing, / u n th in k a b le p h o e n ix , whose p y re we
build" (p . 56).
Jon S ilk in 's fav o rite "noble savage" is not th e child b u t th e fox, and
h is fav o rite m etaphor fo r hum an society is th e fox h u n t. "T he C unning
of an Age" also en d s in holocaust:
. . . th e men an d th e world
With blood o v e r th e ir h a n d s and a c u rs e on th e ir whips
A nd a h o rse on th e ir w orld and a ho rn on th e ir m inds
Went fo r a day
O ver and down th e h ill. (p . 58)
His p o e try also fe a tu re s caged b ird s as sym bols of m an's cap tiv e s p irit in
a civilization gone b e s e rk . In "T he Two Freedom s" both man and b ird
"ste p down / From th e ir c a rria g e in th e a ir / To th a t hum ble, iro n house"
a fte r h av in g "shed th a t gold / Which had p e rc h e d fo r an in s ta n t, o n .th e ir
flesh" (p . 63). In " F u rn ish e d L iv e s," Silkin say s "Each man and maiden
. . . . Should frolic and b re a th e / As dolphins on th e sty lized crow n of
th e sea" (p p . 63-64).
T his b rie f excision o f th e philosophical prem ises o f M averick p o e try
is not in te n d ed to c o n tra d ic t th e e d ito rs ’ disclaim er of in te n tio n to
anthologize an "opposing sch o o l." B u t, to coin a rom atic im age, b ird s of
a fe a th e r do flock to g e th e r. T ak in g o ff w ith th e Movement p o ets from an
assum ption of m an's isolation in th e u n iv e rs e , th e y have b een c a rrie d
along b y a d iffe re n t wind th a t is p ro b ab ly th e p re v a ilin g poetic c u rre n t
o f o u r tim e s--a k in d of g u ilt-rid d e n rom anticism which holds th a t man
cannot find his way back to n a tu re u n til he m anages to do som ething about
air pollution.
• ■ - 87
Given th is point of v iew , a p u rp o se fo r p o e try a lto g eth e r d iffe re n t
from th a t of Movement p o e try in ev itab ly r e s u lts . P o e try 's m ission is not
to id en tify man in th e co n tex t of an alien u n iv e rse o r to determ ine which
lim ited tr u th s of n a tu re apply to him; th e s e p o ets a lre ad y know who man
is - - n a tu r e 's ru n a w a y --a n d th a t p o e try 's p u rp o se is to goad him home
ag ain . T he rh e to ric a l in ten tio n is not in q u iry , b u t e v o c a tio n --th e re in
fo rcing of values assum ed to be held in common b y th e poet an d his
r e a d e r s , as in a serm o n . A ty p ical M averick poem , th e n , will contain
th e se elem ents :
1. A p ic tu re of n a tu re 's in te rn a l harm ony: "m ated sw ans" hap p ily
p a ire d in H am b u rg er's "Islan d s" (p . 38); ch ild ren "co n ten t sim ply to be"
in a p lay g ro u n d in H all's "T he P lay g ro u n d b y th e C hurch" (p . 17); or
"a fo x 's c o u n try / With moors of d re n c h in g su n lig h t and olive tre e s / And
peace h an g in g from th e b ra n c h e s in c lu s te rs of b ird s" in S ilkin's "No Land
Like It" (p . 57).
2. T he c o n tra stin g p ic tu re o f man: "What could th ey do, / T hose
te a r s , to fetch my w onder back?" in H all's "T he C rack" (p . 18); "He
liste n s: b la c k b ird s flu tin g . . . pigeons ta lk in g -- / B ut in h is e n tra ils
h e a rs a tim e-bom b tic k in g , / P lanted at b irth , set for th e m ocking h o u r"
in H am burger's "Man in a G arden" (p . 18); "Do not u p b ra id u s th a t o u r
caves are so sm all; / th e se are o u r p erso n al hells" in T u rn e r's "Jo u rn ey
of th e B an ish ed ” (p p . 53-54).
3. An in fe re n c e draw n from th e above, e x p a n d e d , re a p p lie d , e tc .:
"B lind and dum b / We sta n d in piteous w onder" in H all's "T he B u rn in g
H are" (p . 16); "I affirm th e hum an condition is th e same," / T he h e a rt
h alf b ro k en in a sh es and lie s , / B u t su sta in e d b y th e im m ensity of th e
88
divine" in W right’s "Monologue of a Deaf Man" ( p . 25); "I th o u g h t of my
own / W ings, cu t and trim m ed b y my g re y God" in S ilk in 's "T he Two
Freedom s" (p . 63).
T he implied rh e to ric a l m ethod which lu rk s beh in d M averick p o e try is
analogy: (1) T h ese two th in g s , man and n a tu re , o u g h t to be th e sam e,
(2) m anifestly th e y are n o t, and (3) man m ust c h a n g e . As in d icated
e a rlie r in th is c h a p te r, th is is not a p a rtic u la rly rig o ro u s way to e stab lish
tr u th ; only th e second elem ent a sk s for v alid atin g su p p o rt w ithin th e
confines of th e poem , and th e r e a d e r’s atten tio n is seldom draw n to th e
logical n e c e ssitie s.
Unlike Movement p o e try , which w orks out th e poetic in q u iry in a
rh e to ric a l se q u en c e - - a m ethod w hich in v ite s th e re a d e r to exam ine each
of its logical ste p s one at a time as th e y unfold--M averick p o e try seldom
follows an o rd e rly p ro g re ssio n . T he M averick poet feels no need to
su b ject th e p ro ce ss b y w hich he reach es his conclusion to ratio n al scrutiny;
he sim ply assum es th a t he h as a p act w ith th e re a d e r, going back to th e
o rig in s of p o e try , in which th e m arriage of man and n a tu re is assum ed to
be law ful and legitim ate.
As a co n seq u en ce, th e th re e elem ents d e scrib e d above seldom ap p ear
in th e o rd e r in d ic a te d , o r for th a t m atter in any o rd e r at all. E verything
te n d s to ru n to g e th e r in th e r e c ip e a n d , at th e d isc retio n of th e cook,
any in g re d ie n t may be om itted, its flavor p re s e n t b y im plication. Further,
image and symbol may be u se d w ithout inhibition b ecau se th e y a re implicit
e x p re ssio n s of th e basic analogy: anyw here you shine a lig h t in n a tu re ,
th e poet a ssu m e s, you will find som ething th a t re fle c ts a tr u th in m an’s
w o rld .
89
On th e whole, how ever, M averick u se of im agery is re s tra in e d ; th e
p o e try is sim ple, d ire c t, concise, and free of th e rococo ornam entation
c h a ra te ris tic of e a rlie r p o e try which p ro ceed ed from th e same assumptions.
In th is dim ension, M averick p o e try looks v e ry m uch like Movement poetry.
T he p o e t's sta n c e , o r a ttitu d e tow ard his m aterial, how ever, is sh a rp ly
red o len t of e a rlie r tra d itio n s and much at v arian ce w ith th a t of th e
Movement p o e t. T y p ically , th e Movement poet sim ply accep ts th e gap
betw een him self and n a tu re as one of th e im m utables and co n d u cts his
poetic in q u iry from th a t point in relativ e calm. For th e M averick p o e t,
how ever, co n fro n tatio n w ith th e void calls for an em phatic resp o n se of
some k in d . T h ey feel called upon to m ourn th e ir iso latio n , sin g nostalgia
in elegiac to n es for loss of y o u th o r in n o ce n ce , m ount an a tta c k on th e
P h ilistin es who cau sed th e im passe, p ra y for d eliv eran ce o r understanding,
o r sim ply pose nobly in pain a g ain st th e h o rizo n . Som ething h as to be
done about th e w retch ed s ta te of a ffa irs , and w h atev er it is m ust be done
s p irite d ly , even lo u d ly .
C iting any poem as "typ ical" does more d isse rv ic e to th e M averick
g roup th a n to th e Movement p o e ts. H all's "T he Is la n d ," p rin te d below,
should not be tak en as re p re se n ta tiv e of th e norm o f M averick p o e try ; it
sim ply sum s up m any of th e c h a ra c te ristic fe a tu re s o f th e ir p o e try and
makes a fin al, and im p o rtan t, point about M averick te c h n iq u e .
It almost seem ed th e y had w aited a long age
For th e w onder of o u r com ing, th e islan d b ird s ;
A nd w hen we cam e, like c h ild ren flocked aro u n d u s ,
Jo stlin g and c h a tte rin g , excited beyond w ords.
We h ad not e x p ec te d a welcome su ch as th is - -
T he cu rio u s te rn p e e rin g into o u r faces,
90
T he cerem onial bow of th e a lb a tro s s,
F ly c atch e rs sn a tc h in g o u r h a ir fo r th e ir n e s tin g -p la c e s .
T his was an alien w orld, locked out of tim e,
And we who had sailed th e re on th e sh iftin g w inds,
What could we do b u t m arvel! Such gentle b re e d s ,
So r a re and ra d ia n t c r e a tu r e s , charm ed o u r m in d s.
We th o u g h t of th e c o n tin e n ts, o r ra c k re n t hom es,
O u r c h ild ren in p iteo u s p o v e rty , th e w ars
O f h u n g e r and p rid e and pow er . . . Now it seem ed
F o rg o tten E den had opened wide its d o o rs.
*
We ste p p e d a sh o re , am azed. T h en fe rrie d o v e r,
As from an a rk , o u r c h a tte ls, a sn o rtin g band
O f c attle and ra n d y g o a ts. From th e holds
T he stow aw ay r a ts sw arm ed u p and swam to lan d .
A nd all b e g a n --th e ebony fo re s ts falling
To axe and m attock, c e n tu rie s sco rch ed away
At th e touch of tin d e r, fabulous carg o es leaving
With o u r c h ild re n 's h e rita g e , day a fte r d a y .
Were we to blam e, c au g h t in su ch fierce e n d ea v o u r,
T h at we n e v e r saw how we s tru c k creatio n dow n:
T he shim m ering b ird so n g d y in g out a t n ig h tfall
N ever to be re b o rn , g ra s s tu rn e d to stone?
Were we to blame? We did not th in k so th e n ,
B ut now we a re d riv e n out we know o u r blam e.
On d ista n t sh o re s o u r fo rtu n a te k in await u s .
Will th e y jostle to g re e t u s , how shall we hide o u r shame?
(M av erick s, p p . 18-19)
In addition to th e fe a tu re s cited a b o v e --th e in n o ce n t, loving w orld of
th e anim als set in c o n tra st to th e av aricio u s, d e stru c tiv e w orld of man;
th e clear im plication th a t th e two w orlds o u g h t to be in harm ony; and th e
p e ro ra tio n w hich u rg e s man to assum e re sp o n sib ility for e v il--th e c le ar
evocation o f th e re a d e r's religious (o r h isto ric al) m atrix im m ediately d is
tin g u ish e s th is poem from a n y th in g th a t can be found in Movement p o e try
and has an im portant effect on th e way im agery fu n ctio n s in M averick
p o e tr y .
91
T he Movement p o e t, w ere he to u se th e sam e fo reg ro u n d m aterial as
Hall, would be at g re a t p ain s to p re v e n t th e re a d e r from peopling th e
immediate scene w ith th e g h o sts of an y o rg an ized system o f th o u g h t or
body of w ork. No sh ad es of Adam and E ve, N oah, S t. F ran cis (o r D rake
o r D arw in) would walk th e sh o re s of th is isla n d . T he re a d e r would be
a sk e d , or d ire c te d , to view th e scene exactly as it is , s trip p e d of any
m ythological or h isto rical association. T he p resen c e of a biblical c o n tex t
o r b ack g ro u n d d e lib erately w akened in th e mind of th e re a d e r by th e
M averick poet tu r n s simple e v en t into p arab le w hich p ro ceed s on p arallel
hum an and divine le v e ls . Im agery stitc h e s to g e th e r th e two p a rts of th e
analogy on which th e poem re s ts rh e to ric a lly . In line th re e , fo r exam ple,
’’like ch ild ren flocked a ro u n d u s ’’- - a fig u re w hich, u n re fra c te d th ro u g h
C h ristia n ity , h as little m etaphorical fo rc e --ta k e s on co n sid ereb le imagistic
pow er w hen it is p erceiv ed in th e co n tex t of C h ris t's "S u ffe r th e little
c h ild ren to ccsne u n to m e." W ithout th e C h ristia n c o n te x t, th e fig u re
sim ply does not reach out from th e fo reg ro u n d to draw in o th e r m eanings.
If th e same line a p p eared in a Movement poem, it would not function like
an image at all.
In sum m ary, it is ev id en t th a t Movement p o e try e x is ts as a unique
p h ase of B ritish lite ra ry h is to ry , and th a t it re p re s e n ts a d istin c t
c o u n te r-c u rre n t to th e p re v a ilin g poetic tid e s which c h a ra c te riz e d th e
late 1940s and e a rly 1950s, as well as a g re a t deal of p o e try w ritte n in
th e neo-R om antic mode th ro u g h o u t th e 1950s. Movement p o e try is also
im portant as a s ta r tin g place for a d iscu ssio n of th e w ork of th o se poets
associated w ith i t, especially as re g a rd s th e p o e try of Donald D avie,
Philip L a rk in , and Thom G unn.
92
N otes to C h a p te r II
* E lizabeth J e n n in g s, P o e try T oday (L ondon: Longm ans, G reen &
C o ., 1961) , p . 9.
2
Ian Ham ilton, "T he M aking of th e M ovem ent," New S tatesm an , 23
A pril 1971, p . 571.
3
Blake M orrison, "T he M ovement: A R e -a sse ssm e n t," PN Review 4,
No. 1 (1977) , p . 26.
4
Blake M orrison's T h e Movement is th e only ex cep tio n ; see my com
m ents e a rlie r in th e "P reface" to th is d isse rta tio n .
5
For fu r th e r d iscu ssio n of th e b e g in n in g s of T he M ovem ent, see:
Thomas B la c k b u rn , "In th e F iftie s," in h is T he P rice of An Eye (L ondon:
Longm ans, G reen & C o ., 1961); William Van O 'C onnor, T he New University
Wits (C arb o n d ale: S o u th e rn Illinois U n iv ersity P re s s , 1963); John P re s s ,
"A rgum ent and In c a n ta tio n ," in his Rule and E n e rg y : T re n d s in B ritish
P o etry Since th e Second World War (L ondon: O xford U n iv ersity P re s s ,
1963), and "T he Movement and P oets of th e 1950s," in h is A Map of
M odern E nglish V erse (L ondon: O x fo rd , 1969); A nthony T hw aite, "Poetry
of th e 1950s and 1960s," in his C ontem porary E nglish P o e try , 3 rd . ed .
(L ondon: M orrison and G ibbs, 1965).
0
D. J . E n rig h t, in William Van O 'C onnor's T he New U n iv ersity W its,
p . 10.
^ A nthony H a rtle y , "P oets of th e F iftie s," T he S p e c ta to r, 27 A u gust
1954, p . 261.
^ "In th e M ovem ent," T he S p e c ta to r, 1 O ctober 1954, p . 399
^ "In th e M ovem ent," p p . 399-400.
^ R obert C o n q u est, In tro d u c tio n , New L in e s, p . x v .
^ C o n q u est, New L in e s, p . x iv .
12
C o n q u est, New Lines , p . x v .
13
C o n q u est, New L in es, p . x v .
14
C o n q u est, New L in e s, p p . x v i-x v n .
93
15
C h arles Tom linson, "T he M iddlebrow M use," re v . of New L ines ,
e d . b y R o b ert C o n q u est, E ssay s in C riticism , 7, No. 2 (1957), p . 215.
1 fi
B e rn a rd B erg o n zi, "A fter ’T he M ovem ent,'" T he L is te n e r, 24
A ugust 1961, p . 284.
17 H ilary C o rk e, "T he B ad Old S ty le ," E n c o u n te r, 4, No. 6 (1955),
p . 22. C o rk e's poems a p p e a r in New L ines I I .
18
D avid W right, "A Small G reen In se c t S h e lte rs in th e Bowels of My
Q u iv erin g T y p e w rite r," E n c o u n te r, 7, No. 4 (1956), p p . 75-76.
19
D anny A bse, In tro d u ctio n to M av erick s, e d . w ith Howard
S e r-g e a n t (L ondon: P o e try and P o v e rty , 1957) , p . 9.
20
Howard S e rg e a n t, In tro d u ctio n to M av erick s, p p . 12-14.
21
G. S . F ra s e r, "E nglish P o etry Since 1945," London M agazine, 6,
No. 11 (1959), p . 17.
22
R o b ert C o n q u est, "New L ines: o r It Wasn’t Like T h at R eally ,"
T he Month , May 1956, p . 27.
23
G eorge D e k k er, "Donald D avie: New and D iv erg en t Lines in
E nglish P o e try ," A g e n d a , 14, No. 2 (1976), p p . 47-48.
24
Donald D avie, P u rity of D iction in E nglish V e rs e , 2nd. e d . (1952;
r p t . New Y ork: Schocken B ooks, 1967), p p . 197-198.
25
Iris M urdoch, in O 'C onnor, p p . 66-67.
20
G eorge O rw ell, "In sid e th e W hale," in h is C ollected E s s a y s , p . 526.
27
Thom G unn, "A Plan of S elf-S u b jec tio n ," in New L in e s, p . 39.
All su b se q u e n t re fe re n c e s to poems in th is anthology will be in d icated
p a re n th e tic a lly w ithin th e te x t, u sin g th e a b b rev iatio n NL.
28
Even in th e p o e try of Thom G unn, sp e a k e rs who a re o ste n sib ly not
G unn (as in "M erlin in th e C ave: He S peculates W ithout a Book") are
only one rem ove from him, spokesm en for h is p a rtic u la r point of view .
90
W. B . Y e ats, "A P ra y e r for My D a u g h te r," T he Collected Poems of
W. B . Y eats (New Y ork: Macmillan, 1956), p . 185.
30
S ee, for exam ple, L a rk in 's "T oads": "A h, w ere I courageous
enough / To sh o u t stu ffy o u r pension! / B ut I know , all too well, th a t's
th e s tu ff / T h at dream s a re made on" (NL, p . 27).
31
E n rig h t, P oets of th e 1950's, p . 8. On th e same su b je c t, Amis
n o ted : "th in k in g is alw ays a no to rio u sly d ifficu lt e x e rc ise , and th e re are
alw ays inducem ents to g ivin g it u p as soon as convenient" ("T h e Day of
94
th e M oron," T he S p e c ta to r , 1 O ct. 1954, p . 408.
32
Donald D avie, A rticu late E n erg y (L ondon: R outledge an d K egan
P a u l, 1965), p . 11.
33
D avie, A rticu late E n e rg y , p . 127.
34
Jo h n Wain, in E n rig h t, P oets of th e 1950T s , p . 90.
35
Donald D avie, P u rity of D iction in E nglish V e rs e , p . 29.
36
D avie, P u rity of D ictio n , p . 204.
37
R o b ert C o n q u est, In tro d u ctio n to New L in e s, p . x ii.
88 P re s s , p . 54.
39
D avie, "T he R hetoric of E m otion," Times L ite ra ry S u p p lem en t,
29 S eptem ber 1972, p . 1143.
40
Paul F u sse ll, Poetic M eter and Poetic Form (New Y ork: Random
H ouse, 1965), p . 12. F u ssell goes on to say th a t one of th e th re e w ays
in w hich m eter can "mean" is b y v irtu e of th e way m eter c re a te s a " ritu a l
'fram e’ in w hich m eter encloses ex p erien ce like th e a rtificial b o rd e r of a
p a in tin g ; like a p ic tu re fram e, m eter rem inds th e a p p re h e n d e r u n rem it
tin g ly th a t he is not ex p erien c in g th e rea l object of th e 'im itation' (in th e
A risto telian sen se) b u t is e x p erien c in g in ste a d th a t object tra n sm u te d into
sym bolic form" (p . 14).
41 T . S . E liot, "T he Waste L a n d ," in T he Complete Poems and P lays
(New Y ork: H a rc o u rt, -Brace and C om pany, 1952), p . 39.
42
Hugo F rie d ric h , T he S tru c tu re of M odern P o e try , tr a n s . Joachim
N eugroschel (E v an sto n , Illinois: N o rth w estern U n iv ersity P re s s , 1974),
p . 4.
43
D annie A bse and Howard S e rg e a n t, M av erick s, fro n t.
44
J . C . Hall, "O H appy C ircu m stan ce," in M avericks, p . 15. All
su b se q u e n t re fe re n c e s to poems in th is anthology will be in d icated p a re n
th etica lly w ithin th e te x t.
95
I I I . Donald Davie
T he relatio n sh ip betw een th e tra d itio n a l and th e m o d e rn --th e most
sig n ifican t ten sio n in D onald D avie’s life and w o rk --h a s o ften b een an
u n easy one for him. He h as said th a t h is approach to life h as been
A u g u sta n , and th a t he h a s trie d -to im itate A u g u stan poets in his w ritings;
y et he h as also said th a t ’’E zra Pound h as in flu en ced me more deeply and
more c o n stan tly th a n any o th e r poet of th e p re s e n t c e n tu ry ." * Committed
sp iritu a lly to his n a tiv e la n d , and to its c u ltu ra l p a s t , D avie also fea rs it
and its effect on his p o e try , a fe a r voiced in th e poem "Lim ited A chieve
m en t," w h ere, in a d e scrip tio n of P iran esi which is also a s e lf-p o rtra it,
he d e sc rib e s an a rtis t "h ig h ly skilled" y e t one who "b ra n c h e s o u t, b u t
only to collapse, / Im prisoned in his own u n h a p p y k n a c k , / W hich, when
2
u n fa ilin g , fails him m ost, p e rh a p s ." T he fea r th a t h is is a w in ter talent,
o r th a t it is a ta le n t in d a n g e r of becom ing fixed in th e fro st of n ativ e
tr a d itio n s , has se n t D avie in se a rc h of m eans b y which to ex p an d his
poetic field. He h as e x p erim en ted , m oving beyond w hat he. believes to be
th e confines of Movement p o e try , m oving in deed finally to Am erica in
se a rc h o f new in sp ira tio n .
B ecause D avie d elib era tely c u ltiv a te d , in his e a rly p o e try , th e
3
s tre n g th s of th e A u g u stan p o e ts --u rb a n ity of to n e , p u rity of dictio n ,
u se of flaw lessly c o rre c t sy n ta x to convey m eaning, and s tric t m e te r--
c ritic s of his p o e try , while adm itting its tech n ical v irtu o s ity , have often
4
accu sed him o f p ro d u cin g v e rs e r a th e r th a n p o e try d u rin g th is p e rio d .
96
Calvin Bedient has written that "The ch ief effect o f Davie's attempt to be
urbane--and not only in the Arnoldian se n se, but in the root sense of
'civilized, polished, refined, w itty'--h as been a waste of his poetic abili-
5
tie s , their silen cing while lesser instrum ents are played." While admitting
that much of D avie's "verse" is "exquisite," B edient laments that "un
n ecessary limitation" which he believes allows Davie to produce poetry
"only when he has escaped from his theories--w h en he has opened the
door, quietly so as not to waken the urbane guards, and stepped out into
6
the su rp risin g world." Such a ste p , Bedient fe e ls, Davie has taken all
too infrequently; h en ce, his final assessm ent of Davie pictures a poet so
committed to pure sty le and pure art that he can be admired at best for a
lean in teg rity .
Other critics have noted a progression in D avie's w orks, a breaking
out of the "confines" of h is earlier aesthetic principles and poetic prac
tic e s. Patrick Swindon has cited D avie's "development out of the tig h t,
w itty stanzas o f his first two volum es, through his translations of
Mickiewiez and P astern ak , to the poems of E vents and Wisdoms " (1964)
7
as "startling" efforts to "go beyond formal and thematic conservatism ."
Martin Dodsworth also speaks of Events and Wisdoms as "that volume of
D avie's in which the idea of poetry as a way of knowing the world we are
g
in finds its most complete expression" U sing the poem "Tunstall Forest"
as an example, Dodsworth goes on to note that in D avie's later poetry
there is a considerable difference in poetic voice and stan ce, a change
from a tone "of enforced reasonableness" and "resigned detachment" to
one of "developing u tteran ce, one whose resp onsive poise changes from
9
one moment to another as perception itse lf sh ifts, sees further." This
97
developm ent D odsw orth, like Sw inden, a ttrib u te s in la rg e p a rt to th e
effect P a s te rn a k 's p o e try had on D avie, and he d e sc rib e s D avie a fte r th e
period of R ussian tra n s la tio n s as "a poet who has ch an g ed and grown with
th e p a ssin g of tim e, y e t w ithout abandoning w hat was tr u ly of value in
h is early w ork, its 's tr e n g th ', th e poetic u se of a p ro saic d ic tio n ." 1® As
e a rly as 1970, Donald G reene su g g e ste d th a t D avie m ight well be one of
th e few poets with th e cap acity to move into "a ’th ird p e rio d ,' in th e same
sen se th a t th e p h ra s e is o ften applied to B e e th o v e n --a clear developm ent,
in th e ir fo rties o r fiftie s , of a new , m ature s ty le , a sty le more ru g g e d
y e t more p re c ise , more rich ly v a rie d in e ffe c t, o ften colloquial in diction
and more audacious (y e t n e v e r carele ss) in syntax."'*'1
E vidence of D avie's d issa tisfac tio n w ith th e epistem ological reach of
Movement p o e try , su sta in e d and y e t c o n stra in e d b y its rig id rh eto rica l
a rm a tu re , can be found even in th e poems of New L in e s. In d e e d , th e
dynam ic d esig n at th e h e a rt of his early p o e try ta k e s th e form of a p ro b e
fo r tr u th into re a lity th a t is b lu n ted or turned aside either by the occluding
p resen c e of man w ithin th e scene o b se rv ed o r b y th e in ad eq u acies of man
as o b se rv e r and in te r p r e te r . "T he F o u n ta in ," for exam ple, b y contrasting
a ttitu d e s of th e e ig h te e n th c e n tu ry E nlightenm ent (a s in B ishop Berkeley's
u se of a fo untain as a d e sc rip tiv e model fo r hum an th o u g h t p ro ce sses)
w ith tw e n tieth c e n tu ry a ttitu d e s ("We ask of fo u n tain s only th a t th e y
p la y " ), illu s tra te s th e folly of m an's attem pt to c a p tu re tr u th in n a tu re
b y sk ew erin g its phenom ena on th e sp e a r of a lite ra ry conceit (NL, p. 65).
"A Head P ain ted b y D aniel O'Neill" concludes th a t "p erfectio n looking out
at im perfection" in th e m uddled a ffa irs of men can only r e g is te r an expres
sion "as puzzled as in sc ru ta b le " (NL', p p . 66-67). "R ejoinder to a C ritic"
98
Cp. 67) q u estio n s th e ab ility of th e m odern poet to ask any b u t minor
q u estio n s in a w orld almost com pletely c o rru p te d b y th e p resen c e of m an.
"C h e rry R ipe" (p p . 67-68) q u estio n s th e v a lid ity of th e p a in te r's tr u th
when he tre a ts n a tu ra l objects su c h a g ra p e s , w hose essen ce man has
12
o b sc u red b y co u n tless m etaphorical o v e rla y s. "Limited A chievem ent"
(p , 69) is a p o rtra it of th e a rtis t P iran esi (an d of all a r tis ts , in clu d in g
D a v ie ), tra p p e d w ithin th e p e rc e p tu a l h a b its which in ev itab ly evolve from
th e e x ercise of h is sk ills. In one way o r a n o th e r, all th e early poems
e x p re ss co n cern o v e r m an’s ability to make effectiv e u se of th e " tru th s "
conveyed to him b y th e ratio n al p ro ce sses of Movement p o e try , p o in tin g
D avie tow ard an e v e r-s h a rp e n in g aw areness th a t, for him , th e p ro b in g of
th e o u te r lan d scap e o u g h t to be su b o rd in a te to th e p ro b in g o f th e in n e r,
and th a t how ever m any b asep o in ts of v alid ated tr u th th e Movement poet
m ight be able to e sta b lish in th e w ilderness w ith h is rh eto rica l m ethod,
th e fro n tie r he is really ex p lo rin g is him self, and th a t his map m eans little
u n til th e v o y a g er know s him self.
D avie’s firs t oblique a rtis tic e n co u n ter with th e shadow y o u tlin es of
a new poetic form to em body th is change ta k e s place in "O b iter D icta"
(w ritte n not long a fte r "W oodpigeons at R aheny") , a poem opening with a
p h ra se signalling th e new line of d e p a rtu re .
T ry in g to u n d e rs ta n d m yself, I fetch
My fa th e r’s image to me. T h e re he is , augm enting
T he tr e a s u ry of h is p ru d e n c e w ith a c lu tch
O f th o se cold e g g s, G reat T ru th s --h is sc riv e n e r's hand
C onfiding apothegm s to his p ocket book.
Does mine do more th a n sn ap th e elastic band
Of rhym e about them ? In an age th a t teach es
How p e a rls of wisdom only look like e g g s,
T he tid e , a ffla tu s , still piles up on th e beaches
P earls th a t he p riz e s , sto n es th a t he re trie v e s
99
M isguidedly from p o e try 's u n d e rto w ,
D eaf to th e h a rs h re tra c tio n th a t achieves
Its s c u tte rin g b ack w ash , iro n ie s. And y e t,
R ecalling his g a rru lity , I see
T h e re 's m ethod in i t . Seem ing to fo rg et
T he point at is s u e , th e palm er tells his b e a d s,
S tru n g b y connections nonchalantly weak
Upon th e th re a d of argum ent he n eed s
To b rin g them th ro u g h his fin g e rs , ro u n d and ro u n d ,
T a stin g of g ris tle , sa v o u ry ; and he h e a rs ,
Like ru b b in g sto n e s, th e ir d ry conclusive so u n d .
Himself an a c to r (He can play th e clown) ,
He know s th e p o e t's a man of p a rts ; th e sage
Is one of th e m , b u ffo o n ery like h is o w n ,
Means to an e n d . So, if he loves th e page
T h at grow s se n te n tio u s w ith a te rs e d istin c tio n ,
Yet la p id a ry m oralists a re dumb
A bout th e p re c e p ts th a t he a cts u p o n ,
Brow n w ith tobacco from his ru le of th u m b .
'Not b re a d b u t a s to n e ! '--th e d e e p -se a fisherm en
D enounce o u r fin d in g s, fa th e r. P e b b les, b e a d s,
P ersp icio u s d ic ta , gems from E m erson,
W hatever sta n d s when all about it slid e s,
W hatever in th e oceanic w elter
P u ts p erio d to u n p u n c tu a te d tid e s ,
T h e se , th a t we lik e , th e y h a te . And a fte r a ll, for y o u ,
To tak e b u t w ith a pich of salt to tak e
T he maxims of th e sag es is th e tru e
G reat T ru th of all. To k e e p , as you would sa y ,
A se n se of p ro p o rtio n , I should p o rtio n out
T he archipelago a cro ss th e b a y ,
One islan d to so much sea. A sso rted
■ Poetic p le a su re s come in b u n d les th e n ,
S tra p p e d up b y rhym e, not o therw ise su p p o rte d ?
T u rn in g about h is v a rio u s gems to tak e
Each o th e r's lu s tre b y a tem p erate ru le ,
He walks th e g ra v e y a rd w here I have to make
Not cen to s b u t in sc rip tio n s, and a whole
T h a t's moved from in w a rd , d a n cin g . Yet I tra c e
Among his sh o re d -u p e p itap h s my own:
A rt, as he h in ts , tu r n s on a commonplace, ^
And D eath is a tu n e to dance to , c u t in sto n e .
T hese 'in cid en tal rem a rk s' on th e p ro c e sse s of poetic p e rc e p tio n ,
selectio n , assim ilation, and arran g em en t o f d ata from th e p h y sical world
100
sh a re w ith D avie's o th e r p o e try of th e p erio d th e fam iliar s tra te g y of a
p ro b e for tr u th ab o rted b y hum an in ad e q u ac y . H ere, as in su ch poems
as "T he F o u n ta in ," th e plot fe a tu re s a p a ir o f p ro ta g o n ists--o n e whose
m ission, like his fa th e r 's , is presum ed to fail, c o n tra ste d w ith th e p o e t's
m ission w hich, while p e rh a p s not com pletely su c c e ssfu l, p ro ceed s on a
more prom ising c o u rse .
T he poem 's rh e to ric a l m ethod, if allowance is made for some frag m en
tatio n in th e sc e n e , also a p p e a rs to re s t on th e fam iliar Movement sequence
of in d u ctio n of a prem ise from o b se rv atio n of n a tu ra l phenom ena, tra n s fe r
of th e prem ise to th e hum an realm , and deduction of a relevant application:
from a scene c o n sistin g of a kaleidoscope of memories of his fa th e r (h is
fa th e r w ritin g at his d e sk , w alking th e se a sh o re , re a d in g , ta lk in g , saying
h is " ro sa ry " of aphorism s, and so on) th e poet g rad u a lly w orks h is way
tow ard reco g n itio n of a p erso n al p re fe re n c e for "h a rd " philisophical id eas.
D avie ex p lain s:
It is tru e th a t I am not a poet b y n a tu re , only b y in clin atio n ; fo r
my mind moves most easily and h ap p ily among a b s tra c tio n s , it
re la te s id eas fa r more read ily th a n it re la te s e x p e rie n c e s. I have
little a p p e tite , only p ro fo u n d adm iration, for sen su o u s fu lln ess
and im m ediacy; I have not th e p o e t's need of c o n c re te n e ss . . . .
My "O b iter D icta" is a poem w hich wins th ro u g h to sen su o u s
im m ediacy, to poetic c o n c re te n e s s, b y ask in g w hat so rt of abstrac
tio n s appeal to me, and an sw erin g th a t q u estio n in th e only p o s
sible w ay, b y a co n crete fa n ta sy . In ste a d of d iscrim inating
a ttra c tiv e id eas from o th e rs le ss a ttra c tiv e (w hich is th e so rt of
o p eratio n to which my mind len d s its e lf most read ily ) , I ask in
th a t poem b y w hat c rite rio n I find some ideas more a ttra c tiv e
th a n o th e rs . I a n sw e r th a t I like id eas which are s to n y . T his
re p re s e n ts (I hope) a tru e poem won out of p rec ise ly th a t w hich
is most inimical to it, fre e play among a b stra c tio n s. ^
B ut d e sp ite D avie's sa tisfac tio n w ith th e reso lu tio n of th e v alu e-co n flict
betw een "hardness" and "so ftn e ss" in th e to p o g rap h y of th is poem , th e re
101
is a g re a t deal more poetic g e o g ra p h y h e re th a n can be m apped on su ch
sim ple co o rd in a te s; th e te rra in th ro u g h which he tra v e ls is sig n ifican tly
d iffe re n t from th e Movement stam ping g ro u n d . T his re s u lts in a c e rta in
am ount of stum bling, b u t in "O b iter D icta" Davie b eg in s th e ex p lo ratio n
of a new se t of form al p a th s to w ard poetic tr u th . In th e su b je ct m atter
o f th is poem he b ru s h e s up ag ain st what a re , for him, to tally new a e sth e
tic p rin cip le s as he b eg in s to see sto n es le ss as sym bols fo r fixed p oints
of tr u th and more as p ro d u c ts of c h an g e , and th e rig id Movement p a tte rn
b eg in s to b re a k up as th e se id eas affect h is poetic te c h n iq u e .
T he scene of th is poem is not so m uch a "cento" o r collage (to u se
D avie's own image from th e final stan za) as it is a co n n ected se rie s of
se p a ra te sc e n e s. T h at is to sa y , it is not a jigsaw puzzle w hose p ieces,
once fitte d to g e th e r b y th e poet as he ra n g e s back and fo rth o v e r th e
field , re s u lt in a com pletely in te g ra te d single d e sig n , su itab le fo r u se in
th e Movement rh e to ric a l schem e. T his poem comes close to h a v in g a
lin e ar d esig n of se p a ra te scen es (like view s from a m oving tra in ) in which
th e firs t scene is connected to th e second and th e second is connected to
th e th ir d , leav in g no n e c e ssa ry connection betw een th e firs t and th e
th ird ex cep t in th e ir c o n trib u tio n to th e p o rtra it of th e p o e t. "O b iter
D icta" comes close to b e in g a "m oving p ic tu re " (in c o n tra st to th e still
life of a ty p ical Movement poem) whose a esth e tic ram ifications fo r Davie
are to be com m ensurate w ith T h e sp is' in tro d u c tio n of th e f ir s t a c to r,
w hich gave ly ric tra g e d y fo rw ard movement and c h a ra c te r developm ent.
An exam ination of th e se q u e n c e , which may be c ru d e ly re g a rd e d as a
se rie s o f m iniature Movement poems laid end to end--poem s in w hich th e
scen es a re memories of h is f a th e r's a c tio n s, th e p rin cip le s a re h y p o th eses
102*
about th e m an's c h a ra c te r, and th e applications a re challenges to D avie's
se lf-u n d e rsta n d in g --m a y help th e clarify D avie's te c h n iq u e . Scene one
p lay s m om entarily w ith th e fanciful image of D avie's fa th e r as sto ry b o o k
m iser (in k e ep in g w ith th e su g g e stio n of chronological o rd e r in th e s e
quence) b u t th e h a rd outline of th e p ic tu re is th e real memory of his
fa th e r w ritin g in his ''commonplace" book. From th is b i-focal image of
D ickensian e c c e n tric ity , D avie draw s his p rin cip le in th e form of a question
w hich he applies to him self as re p re se n ta tiv e of m an, th e tr u th - s e e k e r .
T he need to find a sa tisfa c to ry g ro u n d fo r d istin g u ish in g th e a ctiv ities of
his fa th e r, as m id d le-b ro w , from his own as a p o e t, conditions th e choice
of scene w hich follows from th is self-exam ination. S earch in g for a
d iffe re n t view of h is fa th e r as a re s u lt of h is f irs t fo ray in to memory,
D avie co n ju res a to tally d iffe re n t im age: a seascap e in which h is b e a c h
com ber fa th e r a p p e a rs to ig n o re th e a c tiv ity of th e w a v e s--th e movement
c o n stitu tin g th e tr u th of p o e try --a n d focuses in ste a d on th e lifeless r e s i
due of sto n e s. T he idea in d u ced from th is sk e tc h , assim ilated, a lte rs
D avie's stan ce once again; a le rte d to it b y th e p o ssib ility th a t his fa th e r
may not, a fte r all, h av e been to tally in se n sitiv e to "p ro cess" as embodiment
of tr u th ("A nd y e t, recallin g his g a rru lity . . ." ) , D avie is lead to another
p ic tu re --o n e in w hich th e "connections" betw een th e b ead s m ay, th o u g h
"nonchalantly w eak ," be a h id d en elem ent in h is fa th e r's w orld, su b tly
a lte rin g th e significance o f th e fixed p o in ts b y w hich his fa th e r a p p eared
to se t his c o u rse .
With only th e dram atic silence betw een sta n z a s to e x p re ss th e risin g
excitem ent occasioned b y th is daw ning p e rs p e c tiv e on his fa th e r, and
w ithout form ally com pleting th e rh e to ric a l c irc u it, D avie tu rn s to a n o th e r
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p ic tu re , seek in g c o rro b o ratio n of his fa th e r's sly cap acity fo r in d ire c tio n ,
for concealing one p u rp o se u n d e r a n o th e r. He finds it in th e p o rtra it of
h is fa th e r in m otley, able to a p p reciate fellow a c to rs , skilled in m oving
from one side of th e proscenium a rc h to a n o th e r.
At th is ju n c tu re , it becom es e v id e n t, given th e b e n efits o f h in d sig h t,
th a t D avie’s p reo ccu p atio n w ith one dim ension of "sto n e s” or tr u th s — th eir
in h e re n t h a rd n e ss o r so ftn e ss, as a g ain st th e p a rt th e y play in p ro c e sse s
of c h a n g e —begin to dom inate th e poem, leading th e re a d e r away from
in te re s t in th e poetic m ethod (a p ro cess of d isco v ery ) im plied by his
fa th e r's b e h av io r. In o th e r w o rd s, an in h e re n t s tr e s s betw een th e two
c o n te x ts of m eaning em erging from his basic image p a tte r n - - th e h a rd n e s s /
so ftn e ss co n tex t and a se co n d a ry flu x /s tilln e ss c o n te x t— begins to su rfa c e ,
and D avie o p ts to devote m ost of his atten tio n to th e form er. At th e
b eg in n in g of th e th ird sta n z a , Davie refo cu ses h is a tte n tio n on th e sto n es
as objects in stea d o f follow ing up his own e a rlie r criticism of h is fa th e r
fo r a p p ea rin g to ig n o re th e re s tle s s n a tu ra l and hum an flux which c re a te d
them . M om entarily s e ttin g aside th e cru cial image of his fa th e r as palm er
-- a s one who u n d e rs ta n d th a t th e b ead s tak e th e ir m eaning from the strin g
in sid e th e mind of th e one p r a y in g ; th a t th e g re a t tr u th s have no inherent
objective value of th e ir own, only th e u n ique su b jectiv e value th e y assum e
as p a rt of ongoing hum an se a rc h ; th a t th e jo u rn ey man m akes th ro u g h th e
b a se -p o in ts is all th e significance th e b a se -p o in ts h av e--D av ie re tu r n s to
th e b e ac h , slip p in g back to th e p o rtra it of his fa th e r as a collector of
ov o id s, in se arc h of th e alchem ist’s to u ch sto n e b y w hich th e o ld er man
c o n v e rts '’so ft” to " h a rd ." S atisfactio n th a t his fa th e r culls g re a t tr u th s
"b u t w ith a pinch of s a l t ,” th u s chem ically aligning them w ith th e hardness
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of th e G reat T ru th s he him self co llects, leads D avie to select a father-and-
son p h o to g rap h ("T h e se th a t we lik e, th e y h a te ") in which he sees and
a c c e p ts, as he p u lls b ack to assim ilate th e m eaning in a w ryly serio-com ic
w ay, th e image of h is fa th e r in him self.
And y e t a d ifferen ce betw een them — or a hidden dimension of sim ilarity--
tu g s at h is m ind, and he co n ju res up one rem aining p ic tu re . H ere, in
th is s tro ll, th ro u g h a g ra v e y a rd (w ith all its sym bolic ram ificatio n s),
D avie almost m anages to b rin g th e two planes of m eaning to g e th e r ag ain .
He b ru sh e s a g ain st th e e sse n tia l point in h is f a th e r's b e h a v io r--th a t
g rav e sto n e s are an ex cu se fo r ta k in g a w alk, not th e objective o r end-
p ro d u c t of th e w alk, th a t th e " tu rn in g about": and not th e "tak in g -o f th e
lu stre " of th e v a rio u s gems is w hat h is fa th e r values, and th a t p sy ch ic
involvem ent, not fixed p o in ts of t r u th , m akes p o e try . B ut once again th e
re a d e r is lead q u ick ly p a s t th e concept of poetic c o n n ec te d n ess--w h ieh
would have focused h is a tte n tio n of D avie's fa th e r r a th e r th a n on th e
specific g ra v ity of h is fa th e r's p o sse ssio n s, on th e id ea of p o e try which
leads th e poet to u n d e rs ta n d him self r a th e r th a n th e phenom ena he
o b se rv e s --a n d his a tte n tio n is d ire c te d to th e value of sto n e "inscriptions"
(w hich a re a p p a re n tly more im portant th a n th e lives of th o se th e y memor
ialize) o v e r p a p e r and glue collage. T he final l i n e "A nd D eath is a tu n e
to dance to , cu t in stone" is an attem pt to reso lv e b o th h a rd n e ss v e rs u s
so ftn e ss and movement v e rs u s stilln ess in th e image p a tte r n , b u t th e
15
la tte r rem ains p a rtia lly unassim ilated. T his poem show s D avie w riting
poems w hich a re q u ite d iffe re n t from his e a rlie r w o rk ; th e in tro sp e c tiv e ,
m editative stan ce and th e non-logical s tru c tu r e seem clo ser to Romantic
"p o e try of ex p erien ce" th a n to Movement p o e try .
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A gain and again in h is w ork of th is p e rio d , D avie c o n fro n ts th e
ten sio n betw een flux and s tilln e ss, betw een th e "h a rd " and th e " s o f t,”
sometimes able to co n sid er it in iso latio n . His am bivalent a ttitu d e tow ard
th e age o f p la stic ity and flux in w hich he finds him self is most fully
e x p re sse d in a la te r book of criticism , Thom as H ardy and B ritish P o e try ,
w here D avie rem ark s:
E v e ry th in g in th e n a tu re of our age conspires in th e same d ire c tio n ;
th e u n p re c e d e n te d sp eed of change (technological in th e firs t
p lac e, dem anding moral and psychological change th e re a fte r)
compels anyone who h as even a minimal g ra sp of th e actu al to
acknow ledge th a t th e only feasible policy for him as fo r all o th e rs
m ust be flu id , p la s tic , ex p erim en tal, p ro v isio n al. Yet th e re are
people for whom th is goes a g ain st th e g ra in , who are b y tem p era
ment draw n to th e r ig id , th e h a r d , th e resistant-.
Davie sp eak s of him self, along w ith T heophile G a u tie r, E zra P o u n d , and
Thomas H a rd y , as ,rone o f th o se who h a n k e r fo r th e rig id in a w orld of
17
flu x ." T his h a n k e rin g is tre a te d in a d iffe re n t form in "For an Age of
P la s tic s ," w here D avie c o n tra s ts th e h o u ses of p rev io u s e ra s ( " ’b u ilt to
la s t,'" h a v in g "th e a ir of n o th in g left to chance / O r brilliantly provisional")
w ith th e p re -fa b ric a te d " re b u ilt P lym outh," whose ho u ses illu s tra te "how
18
a n age o f chance / Is an age of p la s tic s ." For D avie, as fo r A drian
S to k e s, m oulding and c a rv in g a re a n tith e tic a l; D avie o b se rv es th a t in T he
S tones of R im ini, S tokes w rote of c a rv in g as "th e p ro ce ss th a t im itates
th o se g rad u a l n a tu ra l fo rces th a t v iv ify o r d e stro y n a tu re b efo re o u r
19
e y e s .” Davie b rin g s to g e th e r th is id ea , and th e idea th a t c a rv in g is
analogous b o th to th e sexual act and to th e act of plow ing, in th e poem
"F or an Age of P la s tic s " :
106
T he ploughman ceased h is c a rv in g of th e hillside
A nd all th e c o u lters and th e ch isels b roke
When he was yo u n g whom we come home to b u ry ,
A man like clay in th e h a n d s o f his womenfolk.
A ploughm an c arv ed th re e h a r v e s ts , each a so n ,
Upon th e flesh of Wales . . . .
Davie en d s th e poem w ith a lam ent for th e "h a rd n e ss" which h as p a s s e d ,
b o th in th e man and in a ch an g in g E n g lan d : "so much was d u e , / He
seem ed to th in k , to w hat a man w as, once: / Som ething to bu ild w ith,
21
tak e a chisel to ." T his poem , even more fully th a n "O b iter D ic ta ," is
th e k in d of poem D avie hoped to w rite , th e "poem w hich w ins th ro u g h to
sen su o u s im m ediacy, to poetic c o n c re te n e s s ," and it b rin g s th e flux/
stilln e ss asp ect of th is se arc h more sh a rp ly in to focus.
"A C onditioned A ir," p u b lish ed in 1969, is a good illu stra tio n of how
fa r D avie was able to move in th e decade following th e publication of
"O b iter D icta" tow ard a more p erso n al poetic voice and a poetic form
22
capable of dealin g with a w orld in f lu x . Had th is poem b een w ritte n
d u rin g D avie's Movement p e rio d , it would p ro b ab ly have tak e n th e form
of an o b jectiv e, re tro sp e c tiv e account of a single e n co u n ter w ith a s ta tic ,
h ig h ly detailed sc en e . In s te a d , D avie tra c e s in th e p re s e n t te n se th e
evolution of an a ttitu d e tow ard self as it is sh ap ed b y a se rie s of flee tin g
e n c o u n te rs w ith a num ber of sc e n e s, some of which a re im aginary
p ro je c tio n s:
A wind I know blows d irt
In and out of th e town I was b o rn in ,
T he same wind blow ing th e same d irt in and o u t,
C o a l-d irt, g rit. No odorous clo u d -cleav in g
T yphoon of C rusoe g re y upon th e West
To sa tis fy y o u r h u n g e r fo r a ffla tu s ,
M asters of th e la st
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C e n tu ry , a tte n d in g
A p lain t in th e m outh of th e h e a rth , a n ig h t of
W ind. T he wind
Was a d ra u g h t in th e flue of E n g lan d . I a tte n d
How th e ele ctric m otor
G ulps and re c o v e rs and
T he image on th e telev isio n sc ree n
C o n trac ts and d iste n d s like a rep tilia n ey e,
As som ew here th e h ig h wind slap s at a pow er-line
O ut in th e c o u n try . In th e how ling quick
Of th e b u d th e b ra n c h e s su ffe r
R e ta rd atio n s m uch as you d id . I ,
B efore an em pty h e a rth
In an un fo cu sed h o u se ,
B ehind me q u ietly b la stin g
H o t-air g rille , a tte n d
T he delicate m ovem ents of
C onditioned a irs
I le a rn to lo v e, as small
As th a t is , and as prom pt
In its d isp e rse d and sh a k in g se rv ic e . My ^
Storm -w indow 's foggy p o ly th en e claps and billow s.
F undam entally, all th e scenic frag m en ts which make u p th e e n v iro n
m ent of th is poem are e ith e r p a rts of a rem em bered childhood o r p a rts of
th e p re s e n t, and th e two a re b ro u g h t to g e th e r in th e guise of a lam ent
fo r "lost in n o ce n ce ." T he poem b e g in s in th e p re s e n t, and D av ie's initial
e n c o u n te r w ith th e wind evokes memory of th e o th e r w inds c a rry in g th e
same c o a l-d u st en d lessly back and fo rth , leading to th e o b se rv atio n th a t,
in th is re g a rd at le a s t, th e w orld h as not ch an g ed . And y e t a change
h as ta k e n p la c e --if not in th e environm ental fa c ts, th e n p e rh a p s in th e
p o e t's p e rc e p tu a l v a n ta g e p o in t--a n d in th e p u rs u it of clarificatio n of
th is th o u g h t, D avie evokes a p ic tu re of childhood innocence e n g ro sse d in
th e b eg u ilin g fictions of R o b ert Louis S tev en so n which he c o n tra s ts w ith
th e d e v asta tio n b ein g w rought in th e real w orld b y th e "m asters o f th e
la st / C e n tu ry ." T he in tro d u c tio n of th e v illian s, feeding th e in satiab le
fire s o f E n g lan d 's in d u s tria l em pire, "a tten d in g " th e flames w ith p rie s tly
108
d ev o tio n , com pletes th e p rim ary p ic tu re , fo reg ro u n d and b a c k g ro u n d , and
D avie moves on to com pare it w ith th e p re s e n t.
"A tten d in g " now to a television s e t, r a th e r th a n a book, th e poet (who
is fa r more a le rt th a n th e child to th e c a u se /e ffe c t fo reg ro u n d /b ack g ro u n d
re la tio n sh ip s) glibly tra c e s th e m om entary "re ta rd a tio n " in h is life to its
environm ental so u rc e --th e w ind, w hich n ip s at all of budding life, including
dream s of e m p ire--a n d he p ro je c ts an a p p ro p ria te scene to body fo rth
th is id ea. S atisfied th a t, like C ru so e , he is a d eq u ately fo rtifie d a g ain st
th e v ic issitu d e s of n a tu re , th e poet looks ap p ro v in g ly aro u n d th e room
an d can find no o th e r v illain . With due allowance for sh a k y electrical
se rv ice and dim inished cap acity for hum an c o n ta c t, life is g o o d ; th e d u st
h as been effectiv ely filte re d and all extrem es o f te m p e ra tu re m oderated.
Yet th e h e a rth is em pty of lo v e, and life is w ithout rea l p u rp o se or
d ire c tio n . W hatever th e evils w ro u g h t by th e in d u s tria lis ts , th e y gave
E ngland m otion; th e p rice of s e c u rity , of dom inance o v e r th e id , may be
sp iritu a l an d emotional " re ta rd a tio n ." Closed o ff from all h a rs h stim uli,
fixed in time w ith only a flic k erin g telev isio n se t to rep lace th e window,
opaque w ith in su latio n , and w ith only th e "delicate m ovem ents" of th e ,
h eated a ir to rep lace th e w in d , th e poet b e g in s to co n fro n t h is isolation
and th e p o ssib ility th a t he may find th e m issing villain in him self. T he
poem e n d s , b u t th e tonal disso n an ce lin g e rs , u n re so lv e d .
B eyond th e obvious p ro g re s s m ade in th is poem in c re a tin g in th e
re a d e r a feeling of forw ard m ovem ent, th ro u g h identification with th e
sp e a k e r as he w orks his way th ro u g h his feelings to an aw aren ess of his
p re s e n t sta g n a tio n , D avie h as also rev ealed an im portant d isc o v e ry : th a t
a h ig h ly p e rso n al poetic voice is not n e ce ssa rily a p riv a te o n e . By turning
109
inw ard he h a s, iro n ically , m anaged to tu r n th e poem outw ard w ith g re a te r
e n e rg y th a n b e fo re . T he s tro n g parallels betw een his own stru g g le to
find ad eq u ate c re a tiv e p o stu re and th e s tru g g le s o f his countrym en to
find firm footing in a w orld of cataclysm ic ch an g e--eco n o m ic, social, and
p o litical--g iv e a significance to his p o e try it seldom achieved d u rin g th e
Movement p e rio d . "A C onditioned A ir" re a c h e s fa r beyond th e realm of
D avie’s p erso n al fe a rs (an d th o se of his fellow p o ets) th a t his w ork is
leading him d e ep e r and d e ep e r in to isolation and a n ae sth esia ; he fin d s
him self voicing as well th e fru s tra tio n and alienation of an e n tire g e n e ra
tion of E nglishm en com fortable n e ith e r at home n o r in exile. T he lo v e/
h ate rela tio n sh ip w ith his hom eland and h is p a s t, which b eg in s to dcxninate
D avie's p o e try in th e late 1960s as a su sta in in g te n sio n , an e n erg izin g ~
am bivalence, leads him to sp eak with a m uch more u n iv e rsa l voice th a n in
e a rlie r w ritin g .
O p e n -en d e d n ess in c re a sin g ly c h a ra c te riz e s D avie's b e st p o e try during
th is period as well. T hough a m easure of dram atic clo su re is fre q u e n tly
e v id e n t--th e r e tu r n to a sta te of sta sis in th e s p e a k e r--th e them atic
ten sio n s a re seldom re so lv e d . In o th e r w o rd s, th e sp e a k e r, at th e poem's
e n d , h as fre q u e n tly ru n h is c o u rse , e x h a u ste d th e p o ssib ilities for
fu r th e r fo rw ard m ovem ent, and a rriv e d at a still moment of contem plation;
y e t th e problem w ith w hich he h as b een s tru g g lin g is not fully p u t to.rest.
At b e st he h as achieved a m om entary accom odation w ith circum stance (in
"A C onditioned A ir," m om entary checkm ate w ith h is environm ent) and th e
re a d e r sta n d s p o ise d , w ith th e p o e t, to ta k e up th e stru g g le ag ain . Such
them atic irre so lu tio n is a common c h a ra c te ristic of m odern p o e try , and its
effe cts force th e re a d e r to draw h is own conclusions from th e seem ingly
110
irre le v a n t closing o b se rv atio n of th e clap p in g and billow ing storm window.
T he re a d e r of a Movement poem is free to disen g ag e from th e problem ,
sa tisfie d to file away th e conclusion th a t h as been h an d ed to him; th e
re a d e r of an o p e n -e n d ed poem su c h as th is one will, th e poet h o p e s, co n
tin u e to fu n d from th e poem to environm ent and b ack again long a fte r
p u ttin g th e poem dow n. T h is is th e major d ifferen ce betw een D avie's
p o e try of th is p erio d and h is Movement p o e try , which is never o p e n -e n d e d .
In su m , what D avie h a s d isco v ered b y th e end of th e 1960s is th a t
th e poetic e n c o u n te r need not be m erely a one-tim e, one-w ay ev en t viewed
in re tro s p e c t and re c o rd e d in th e tra n q u il afterglow of feelin g . It can be
a co n tin u in g se rie s of recip ro cal in te ra c tio n s , in which th e in itial hum an
application of a m eaning issu in g from th e p o e t's o b serv atio n of n a tu re
a lte rs th e s ta te of th e poet in su c h a way as to lead him to a seco n d , and
d iffe re n t, p erc ep tio n of n a tu re . T h u s a lte re d b y his firs t e n c o u n te r, he
re tu r n s to an environm ent which is now in tu r n p e rc e p tu a lly a lte re d : th e
ch an g ed poet now sees a ch anged s c e n e --e ith e r a to tally new scene o r a
new facet o f th e old one. R esponding to th e " tru th " rev ealed in th is
second sc e n e , th e poet is again a lte re d , an d th e "fu n d in g " c o n tin u es in a
25
p o eten tially en d less se q u en c e. R ecorded in th e immediacy of its ebb
and flow ( o r, actu ally , c re a tin g th e illusion th a t su ch is th e c a s e ), ra th e r
th a n re tro sp e c tiv e ly as a fully assim ilated e v e n t, th e e n co u n ter lead s to
a s trik in g ly d iffe re n t k in d of poem --one in w hich th e "co n n ected n ess"
betw een th e in d iv id u al moments in th e poem c a rrie s th e m eaning o r
sig n ific a n c e , r a th e r th a n th e in d iv id u al u n i ts , in d iv id u ally o r in su m .
T he poem is a tru e G estalt, la rg e r th a n and d iffe re n t from th e sum of th e
in d iv id u al rh e to ric a l u n its of w hich it is e sse n tia lly com posed, since it
I l l
tra c e s a g ro w th -p a tte rn in th e p o e t. In its fu llest se n se , th e poem 's
su b ject becom es th e p o e t's p ro g re s s on a voyage of se lf-d isc o v e ry , th e
p ro ce ss o f in te rio riz in g th e o u te r w orld, o r , in S a rtr e 's te rm s, a stu d y
o f man "c re a tin g him self" b y re in v e n tin g re a lity . In th e p ro c e ss, re a lity
becom es su b je ctiv e .
D avie's co n cern w ith th e poem as a voyage of se lf-d isc o v e ry is evident
in much of his w ritin g th ro u g h o u t th e 1960s and 1970s. Commenting on
th e in te re s t in g eo g rap h y th a t m arks m uch of th e p o e try of B lack Mountain
p o ets C harles O lsen and Ed D orn (a n d , as D avie h as n o te d , h is own as
2 g
well) , he o b se rv e s th a t th e y are not so much co n cern ed w ith in v e s ti
gatin g "a fixed p o in t, th e place w here ro o ts a re s u n k ," as w ith
a m oving p o in t, th e c o n tin u ally .ch a n g in g sta n d p o in t of a man who
is on th e move a c ro ss c o n tin en ts and o cean s. Thom Gunn exhorts
u s to be 'on th e move’ , b u t D o rn 's poem 'Idaho O u t' gives u s
th is man m oving, and m oving b y autom obile, from Idaho to
M ontana and back a g ain , his sta n d p o in t c h an g in g as he m oves,
y e t conditioned b y th e te rra in it moves th ro u g h and o v e r, as 27
much as by th e co n scio u sn ess which occupies th e m oving p o in t.
D avie also w rites of th e celeb ratio n of th e West th a t is found not only in
th e p o e try of D o rn , b u t th a t of Y vor W inters, and th e decision of th ese
two poets (like D avie) to live th e re , su g g e stin g th a t th e decision grew
out of th e ir fascination w ith th e h isto ry of th a t re g io n , a h isto ry "of
hum an movement" w here "th e still larg e ly em pty lan d scap es of th o se
te rrito rie s are im ages of nom adic life , an a re n a fo r hum an life in which
th e im aginative re sp o n se is still (a s it alw ays h as been) to m ove, to
28
keep m oving. "
Davie h as said th a t o ften when he w rites of a n o th e r p o e t, he is also
29
w ritin g of him self, and in th is statem ent one may find a clue both to
112
30
D avie's decison to move to th e West and to h is c o n stan t fascination w ith
th e e x p lo re rs and a d v e n tu re rs who re p la c e , to a g re a t e x te n t, th e a rtis ts
who fig u re d in his early w o rk --firs t in A S equence for F ran cis Parkm an
(w hich he h as said " re p re s e n ts my re sp o n se to N orth Am erica on .my firs t
31
v is it, from S eptem ber 1957 to A u g u st 1958"), and la te r more su c c e ss
fully in poems su ch as th e "Six E pistles to Eva H esse," " T re v e n e n ,"
"V an co u v er," an d "Commodore B a r ry ."
T h ese men seem to re p re s e n t for D avie th e q u e stin g s p ir it- -th e
im pulse w heih d riv e s men to leave th e ir hom elands, w ith w hat aids th e y
could g a th e r from th e ir h e rita g e (n a v ig a tio n a l and otherw ise w hich
parallel th e h e rita g e of skills and a ttitu d e s D avie b ro u g h t w ith him to
Am erica) , and th e n to plot th e ir own c o u rs e , still re ly in g on th o se a id s ,
b u t also on th e ir own re s o u rc e s . In his catalogue o f failed and suecessfiil
a d v e n tu re rs (w hich is w hich is sometimes h a rd to tell) a num ber come to
g rie f w hen th e y re ly too heavily on th e p re v a le n t th e o rie s and assumptions
of th e ir a g e . Cook dism em bered on th e lava sa n d s b y R o u ssea u 's "noble"
sav ag es is a vivid rem in d er for poets as well: b o th s o rts of v o y ag ers
need to be w ary o f th o se "w hose s u rv e y s , som ething less th a n g lo b al,"
fashion "m yths" b y w hich o th e rs may die (a lb e it, in th e p o e t's c a se ,
32
a rtis tic a lly ), like Cook, who "n e v e r knew w hat h it him ."
D avie's poem "In th e S to p p in g T rain " (1977) fe a tu re s th e poet as
e x p lo re r (o f s o rts ) p o n d e rin g th e "m yths" b y w hich he h as liv e d . It is
p ro b ab ly t r u e , as Michael Schm idt s u g g e s ts , th a t th is poem is cru cial to
33
D avie's developm ent as a p o e t. In it he su c ce ssfu lly reso lv es a num ber
of ten sio n s w hich ru n th ro u g h o u t his e a rlie r w o rk s, and consolidates th e
new poetic voice w hich em erged in th e late 1960s in su ch poems as "A.
113
C onditioned A ir," p u ttin g it to th e se rv ice of his e v e r-p re s e n t co n cern
with m aking d istin ctio n s betw een tru e and false p e rc e p tio n s. His im pa
tien ce w ith th e ten d e n cy of th e E nglish poet to "n u d g e and cajole and
coax his re a d e r" (a s tro n g elem ent in Movement p o e try ) h as reso lv ed
34
its e lf as well; w hile, as alw ays, D avie dem ands a g re a t deal of c arefu l
a tten tio n from th e re a d e r, he avoids m uch of th e o b sc u rity and confusion
o f m eaning th a t m ars some of his middle p o e try (some of th e poems in T he
S h ire s , fo r exam ple) and achieves in ste a d a fru itfu l am biguity. T he poem
is no lo n g er a c o n ta in e r, its top firm ly s h u t and lo c k e d --it is (th e illusion
of) an ex p erien ce unfolding sim ultaneously for Davie and for th e re a d e r.
D avie's movement away from th e closed form s of h is e a rly poems to
th e more open form o f "In th e S to p p in g T rain " re p re s e n ts a ch an g e in his
view of hum an c ap acities. D isc u ssin g , in 1972, th e p o ssib ility of "o pen”
fo rm , he w rite s :
In d e e d , one may su sp e c t th a t th e re is no call for th e "open"
form s, and really no p o ssib ility of u sin g them , so long as hum an
cap acities a re seen on a v e rtic a l scale from high to low. T he
open form s, from th e time of W hitman, who for o u r p u rp o se s in
v e n te d them and made them c u rre n t, en v isag e man as transcending
him self b y m oving o u tw ard and o n . If he is figured as transcending
him self by risin g to th e a ltitu d e of th e haw k, or of h id in g himself
b y d elv in g as deep as th e low est g allery of a mine . . . th e re is
e v e ry reaso n why poetic form s should ex h ib it u n ity , re g u la rity ,
an d re p e titio n . ^5
D avie ad d s th a t a poet m ust e a rn "th e rig h t to th e open form s which he
u se s" in th e way th a t J . H. P ry n n e does; in P ry n n e ’s p o e try , Davie
n o te s, "man sav es o r at le a st p re s e rv e s him self alw ays and only b y moving
30
p a tie n tly on and o v er th e su rfa c e of a la n d sc a p e ." Two y e a rs la te r
Davie p u b lish ed "In th e S topping T ra in ," a poem w hich o p e ra te s in
114
exactly th is w ay.
T he poem is th e culm ination of D avie's long jo u rn ey of poetic self-
d isc o v ery . It is a th o ro u g h ly inw ard-looking dram a in w hich th e rem nants
of th e th re e -p h a s e Movement m ethod can sc a rc e ly be o b se rv e d . The
"ro sa ry " image of "O b iter D icta," which e n ca p su lated a conception of
p o e try as p sy ch ic motion th ro u g h fixed p o in ts of ideational and emotional
sta b ility , and w hich D avie elab o rated and re fin e d in his jo u rn ey s along
all th e r iv e r s , v e in s, a rte ria l ro a d s, e x p lo re r's tr a ils , pieces of s trin g ,
and su rv e y o r's lines in th e p o e try w hich follow ed, culm inates h e re in a
kind of tem poral "sta tio n s of th e c ro s s ," w herein th e m editations s u p e r
cede alm ost e n tire ly th e p erc ep tio n s from which th e y nom inally sp rin g .
T he f irs t of th e te n u n its which com prise th e poem is larg e ly devoted
to c h a ra c te riz in g th e p ro ta g o n ist and a n ta g o n ist of th e poem . H e re ,
conflicting a ttitu d e s tow ard self (b o th in psychological and sociological
term s) which hav e alw ays p ro v id ed th e ten sio n in D avie’s p o e try a re
given dram atic p re se n c e b y sep aratio n into a "he" an d an " I," fellow
p a sse n g e rs on a jo u rn ey th ro u g h th e re sid u a of d isap p o in ted dream s,
th ro u g h "places / whose nam es u sed to have v ir tu e ."
*
I have got into th e slow tra in
a g ain . I made th e m istake
know ing w hat I was doing,
know ing who had to be p u n ish e d .
I know who h as to be p u n ish e d :
th e man going mad in sid e me;
w h eth er I am fleeing
from him o r to w ard s him.
T his jo u rn e y will p u n ish th e b a s ta rd :
h e'll have h is flow ering g a rd e n s
to s ta re at th ro u g h th e hot window;
115
w ords like 'la u re l’ won’t h e lp .
He a b h o rs his fellow s,
especially c h ild re n ; let th e re
not fo r p ity 's sake
be a c ry in g child in th e c a rria g e .
So m uch for p ity 's sa k e.
T he re s t for th e sake of ju stic e :
torm ent him w ith his h a tre d s
and love of fictio n s.
T he p u n ish in g slow pace
p u n ish e s also places along th e line
fo r h a v in g , some of them , Norman
o r H anoverian sto n e-w o rk :
h is old fam iliars, his
exclusive p ro p h y la c tic s.
He'll sta re his fill at th e ir
em ptiness on th is jo u rn e y .
Jonquil is a sw eet w ord.
Is it a flow ering b u sh ?
Let him h elp lessly w onder
fo r h o u rs if p e rh a p s h e 's seen it.
Has it a w hite and yellow
flow er, th e jonquil? Has it
a perfum e? Oh h is a rt could
alw ays p re te n d it h a d .
He n e v e r needed to see
not w ith h is a rt to help him .
He n e v e r needed to u se h is
n o se , ex cep t for lan g u a g e.
T orm ent him w ith h is h a tre d s ,
torm ent him w ith h is false
lo v es. T orm ent him w ith time
th a t h as disclosed th e ir falsehood.
Tim e, th e ex q u isite torm ent!
His fu tu re is a slow
and sto p p in g tra in th ro u g h p laces,^
w hose nam es u sed to hav e v irtu e .
While th e c h a ra c te r of D avie's a lte r ego becom es g en erally clear as
th e poem u n fo ld s, th e v an tag e point of th e "I" of th e poem, in affirm ative
116
ra th e r th a n n eg ativ e te rm s, is n e v e r tre a te d w ithin th e confines of th e
poem. "I's " e s s e n c e --th e a c tiv e , fre e , flex ib le, and rec ep tiv e p a rt of
D avie’s n a tu re --m u s t be e x tra p o la ted from h is criticism o f th e villain of
th e piece and from th e p e rso n a of his o th e r p o e try . T he poem is really
about th e a n ta g o n ist, b o th as th e poet D avie would like to leave beh in d
and as th e u n re g e n e ra te Colonel Blimp of m odern E ngland.
As a p o e t, "h e ” is th e sm ug aesth e te who h as dealt alw ays w ith life
at one rem ove th ro u g h a c u ltu ra l and lin g u istic filte r which h as so dimmed
h is p e rcep tio n of re a lity th a t he is slowly m oving in to m adness. His
v e rb a l hold on a ctu alities h as n e v e r been s tro n g and is loosening rap id ly
("w o rd s like ’lau re l' won’t h e lp " ), his e n c ru sta tio n of "h ates" is p ro o f
a g ain st in c u rsio n s in to th e life of o th e rs who m ight a lte r his point of view,
h is "fictions" lu re him away from re a lity , and all th e "p ro p h y lactics" o f
h is trad itio n a l p reju d ice s in su late him from contam ination by t r u th . For
all of th e se th in g s , he m ust be "p u n ish ed " by th e sp e a k e r, forced to look
at en d less re p e titio n s of h is fa ilu re s u n til th e tra in m akes its final s to p .
People (in u n it th re e ) have little re a lity for him :
*
T he man in th e sto p p in g tra in
sees them along th e highw ay
w ith a re c k le ssn e ss like b re e d in g
p a ssin g and re -p a s s in g :
d o r m obile, V auxhall, Volvo.
He is sh rie k in g sile n tly : 'R a b b its !'
He a b h o rs his fellow s.
Yet even th e m eagre a rts
o f television can
re s to re them to him som etim es,
when th e man in uniform faces
th e u n re le n tin g cam era
w ith a b ew ild erin g fierc en e ss
117
b e sid e th e b u rn t-o u t Simca. (p . 25)
O nly ra re ly does th e glass of window pane o r telev isio n len s admit a view
of h is k in sh ip w ith them . B ehind o th e r le n se s (in u n it eig h t) which
"ignite" only w hat he w ants to see or has been tra in e d to see, and w hich,
c o n se q u e n tly , "occlude" th e t r u th , he a p p e a rs m om entarily to recognize
and re g re t h is iso la tio n :
O nce I th o u g h t th a t he sk etch ed
an apologetic g e stu re
at w hat we tu rn e d away from . (p . 28)
B u t "aplogies w on't help him ," and th e tra in goes on. T rap p e d (in u n it
nine) i n a poetic "dance of w ords" which hav e long since lost th e ir capacity
to c a rry t r u th , he can visualize escape (in u n it te n ) only in term s of an
u n re a listic fa n ta sy of re b irth which he re je c ts even as he form ulates it:
*
rA sh a re d hum anity . . . ' He
pummels his tem ples. 'S u re ly ,
su re ly th a t m eans som ething?'
He knew too few in love,
too few in love.
T h at so rt of foolish b e ard
m asks an u n c e rta in m outh.
And so it p ro v ed : he took
some w eird g irl o ff to a w eird
commune, clu tch in g at y o u th .
D ear r e a d e r, th is is not
o u r c h a p , b u t a n o th e r.
C atch o u r c le an -sh av e n h ero
tied up in su ch a knot?
A cau se of so much b o th er?
He knew too few in love. (p . 29)
118
As an E nglishm an tra p p e d in outm oded assum ptions about h is co untry,
he also n eed s to be p u n ish e d for social and political v a ria n ts of th e same
sin s as th e p o e t's . U nable to re a p p ra ise his p a s t, unw illing to b re a k out
of h is se lf-a b so rp tio n in th e p re s e n t, and u n re sp o n siv e to th e challenges
of th e fu tu re , he is c a rrie d along tra c k s p re fig u re d in h is p a s t. To his
c re d it (in u n it s e v e n ) , he gave b a ttle in th e p a st "to th e fla g ra n tly
o ffered o ccasio n ," b u t now , w orn down by th e "sta n d s" h isto ry forced
him to ta k e , he h as " h a rd e n e d / h is h e a rt an d h is p e rc ep tio n s" and turned
his back on th e w orld. U nable any lo n g er to sh a re h u m an ity ’s a n g u ish ,
incapab le o f love, he w aits, m ired in g u ilt, fo r th e final s t a r t, "th e one
th a t d o e sn 't la s t."
T he th re a d of th e in te rn a l monologue (th e th ird ste p of th e Movement
rh e to ric a l m ethod, th e "application to m an") h as becom e, in th is poem , so
dom inant an o rg an iz in g p rin c ip le th a t th e e n c o u n te rs w ith th e environm ent
(th e f irs t ste p in Movement p o e try ) which presu m ab ly trig g e re d th e
rum inations a re e ith e r ig n o red o r tre a te d so casu ally th a t a d ire c t con
nection betw een o b se rv atio n and rum ination is o ften d ifficu lt to fin d .
O nly in u n it th re e , w here th e view of th e highw ay is quick ly and d ire c tly
in te rio riz e d , still re ta in s a recognizable Movement sh a p e . U nit fo u r, which
fe a tu re s th e a n ta g o n is t's e ffo rts to resp o n d to th e prom ise of s p rin g b y
prim ing him self w ith a p p ro p ria te (an d in a p p ro p ria te ) w o rd s, is more
ty p ic al; it contains only afte r-im ag e s of th e view from th e tra in which
originally in sp ire d th e p o e t's refle ctio n s:
*
W hat's all th is about flow ers?
T h ey have an im portance he c a n 't
ex p lain , o r else th e ir nam es h av e.
119
S p rin g , he s a y s , 's ti r s '. It is w hat
he h as le a rn e d to sa y , he can say
n o th in g b u t w hat he h as le a rn e d .
A nd S p rin g , he know s, m eans flow ers.
A lready he o b se rv e s th is .
Some people claim to love them .
Love th em ? Love flow ers? Love,
love . . . th e w ord is h o p eless:
g ra titu d e , m aybe, p ity .
P itifu l, th e flo w ers.
He tu r n s th a t around in h is h ead :
w hat on e a rth can it mean?
F low ers, it seem s, a re im p o rtan t.
A nd he can name them all,
id e n tify h a rd ly a n y . (p p . 25-26)
T he p h y sical o b jects seen th ro u g h th e window re ta in no v e stig e of sensuous
q u a lity ; th e y are in sta n tly tra n sm u te d into v e rb a l form , to become "a
dance of w ords" w hich "is a circlin g p ris o n ."
Nor does th e poet pay any a tten tio n to th e "sto p p in g p la c e s," th e
k n o ts o r b ead s in th e s trin g . T h ese w ould, in th e c o n te x t of Movement
p o e try , be th e still moments following clo su re at poem 's o r u n it's en d fo r
contem plation of th e poetic " tru th " b ro u g h t back from th e fo ray into
n a tu re . H ere, ex cep t for th e la st sto p , all th e moments of re s t a re
sim ply m arked w ith an a s te ris k to indicate a m issing tra n sitio n from one
line of th o u g h t to a n o th e r. No re sp o n se is e n co u rag e d ; th is is a "stopping
tr a in ," not a "sto p p e d tr a in ," and th e em phasis is on d e celleratin g motion,
not s ta s is .
One m ight ask if "In th e S topping T rain " tra c e s an e n d less jo u rn e y ,
and if th e la st section is a sa tisfa c to ry term ination of th e poem for th e
re a d e r, or m erely th e sta tio n at which D avie d isem b ark ed . By Movement
120
s ta n d a rd s th is poem leaves th e re a d e r with no s tro n g se n se of c lo su re ,
fo r th e re is no reaso n to su p p o se th a t th e c h arg e "He knew too few in
love" is th e la st one th a t "I" m ight make a g ain st th e "he" of th e poem .
H ow ever, th e re a re a num ber of them atic and formal s tru c tu r a l devices
which allow th e re a d e r to feel th a t his ex p erien ce h as e n d e d , and hence
p erceiv e th e poem as "c lo se d "--in th e sen se th a t B a rb a ra H e rrn ste in
Sm ith defines poetic c lo s u re --a s "in te g ra l: c o h e re n t, com plete, and
stab le . " ^
T hem atically, th e final line s u m m a riz e s a g re a t m any of th e fau lts
th a t "he" is c h arg ed w ith: his a b h o rre n c e of "his fellow s," h is " h a tre d s /
and love of fic tio n ." T he re p e titio n of th e leit-m otif "love" in d iffe re n t
co n te x ts ("Some people claim to love them . ./ Love them ? Love flow ers?
L ove, / love. . . ." ; "Love a n d 'p ity / seem th e lik eliest ex p la n atio n s";
"He knew too few in love, / too few in love") is ro u n d ed off in th e con
clu sio n : "He knew too few in lo v e."
T he re a d e r’s sen se of c lo su re , h o w ev er, is more fully se c u re d b y a
num ber of form al d e v ic e s . F i r s t , th e final line is ty p o g rap h ica lly se t
a p a r t- -th e only single line in th e e n tire p o e m --su g g e stin g not only th e
them atic isolation of th e p o e t, b u t a sen se of fin ality as well. S econd,
th e final line p ro v id es gram m atic reso lu tio n ; alth o u g h q u e stio n s a re asked
in m any o f th e p rev io u s se ctio n s, th is final line is th e only in sta n c e in
which th e posed q u estio n is unam bigiously an sw e red . T h e re is gram m a
tical fin ality in th e fin a l v e rb "knew "; all o f th e o th e r v e rb s in th e poem
a ttrib u tin g actions to th e "he" of th e poem a re e ith e r in sim ple p re s e n t
te n s e o r qualified in some way to in d ic a te ongoing actio n . For exam ple,
"he g a v e ," "he ro s e ," "he a p p la u d e d ," "he h a rd e n e d ," a re all p refa ce d by
121
th e w ords "Time and again" u n til th e fin al, sin g le, unqualified pro n o u n ce
m ent, sig n ifican tly in th e p a st te n s e : "He knew too few in lo v e."
T h ird , th e re is in th e la st line formal re p e titio n and sy n ta ctic p a ra l
lelism in th e ex act duplication of th e fo u rth line of th e u n it, which fo re
shadow s th e e n d , and th e p a tte rn of assonance and in te rn a l rhym e in th a t
line ("knew . . . too . . . few ") p ro v id es a cum ulative effect which
su g g e sts fin ality . F in ally , th e re is th e com plete m etrical re g u la rity of
th e final lin e , rein fo rce d b y e n tire ly m onosyllabic d ictio n , a fe a tu re found
only in lines 4, 5, 8 , and 14 o f.th is u n it. (T h e only o th e r u n it in w hich
m onosyllabic diction is u se d , also in com bination w ith iambic trim e te r, is
th e final line of u n it s e v e n , which en d s b u t does not answ er th e q u estio n
"Who know s w hen it comes to a sta n d , / and will not stop again?" and
functions as a them atic foreshadow ing to th e final stop in section te n .)
And th o u g h th e o th e r lines v a ry in syllable num ber and s tre s s d is trib u
tio n , th e m etrical norm e stab lish ed b y lines 4, 6 , 7, 8 , 11, 14, and 16 is
iambic trim e te r, and th e ten sio n s of th e re a d e r's e ffo rts to m aintain
rhythm ic c o n stan cy a fte r he h as p e rc eiv e d th is norm is relax ed only as
th e final sy llab les fall n eatly into th is p a tte r n . T his la st is an especially
effectiv e device fo r c lo su re , for se v era l re a so n s , as B a rb a ra H e rrn ste in
Smith n o tes:
F irs t, it is a re -e sta b lish m e n t of th e norm , th e most pro b ab le and
th e re fo re th e most sta b le arran g em en t of s tr e s s e s . (Its clo su ral
e ffe cts will b e s tro n g e s t, of c o u rs e , w hen th e p re d e d in g lines or
th e poem as a whole have ex h ib ited th e w idest m etrical variations.)
A lso. . . . m etrical re g u la rity may have an e x p re ssiv e effect th a t
en h an ces c lo su re ; it su g g e sts c o n tro l, a u th o rity , a n d , in b o th
se n se s, d e p en d a b ility . F inally, w hen m etrical re g u la rity is com
bined w ith m onosyllabic d ictio n , it will also su g g e st a slow ing
down of p a c e , w hich, b ecau se of th e re a d e r's innum erable e x tra -
lite ra ry e x p e rie n c e s, will be associated w ith an approaching h a lt.^ 9
122
D avie's u se of th is device effectiv ely closes h is poem , an d signals a final
"halt" ra th e r th a n a n o th e r "stop" along th e w ay.
T hough D avie moves away from th e confines of Movement p o e try , his
p o e try re ta in s m any c h a ra c te ristic s of formal v e rs e . If he h as given u p ,
in some of his la te s t poem s, some of th e a sp ec ts of tra d itio n a l form (th e
co u n tin g of syllables in a lin e , th e division of lin es in to sta n z a s, th e
re g u la r re c u rre n c e of rh y m e, and so f o r th ), he h as su b s titu te d in th o se
in sta n c e s th e id ea of g e n re as form , fo r D avie is a poet who will p ro b ab ly
n e v e r em brace com pletely th e idea of "open" form s, much le ss w rite a
poem which has no fin al, co h eren t sh a p e . F or exam ple, "In th e S to p p in g
T rain " h as th e form of a w ell-know n g e n re : th e jo u rn e y poem, of which
D an te's D ivine Comedy and E liot's "T he Love Song of J . A lfred P ru fro c k " ;
are only two of innum erable exam ples. S peakin g of his poem "M orning,"
Davie w rites o f th is concept of form :
My poem h as fo rm , and of a v e ry tra d itio n a l k in d ; b ecau se it
belongs to a tra d itio n of poems from m any c e n tu rie s in many
la n g u a g e s, any one of w hich poems could be en title d 'A D e sc rip
tion of Morning'. . . . th is so rt of k n o w led g e, aw areness o f th e
g e n re s, is som ething th a t a re a d e r m ust h a v e , an d I have e v ery
rig h t to ex p ect i t . P o e try h as alw ays fed upon its own p a st in
th is w ay, an d if it ceases to do so now , it will ch an g e into some
th in g for w hich w e'll have to find a new n a m e .40
D avie ad d s th a t "th e fu n of w ritin g in th is way . . . is in m aking some
h o ary and in nocent g e n re , like A D escription of th e M orning, accommodate
m aterial th a t seem s q u ite d iffe re n t" and th a t
If th e poem w orks as it's m eant to , b y th e end o f it th e h o ary old
g e n re h as been v in d ic a te d : it will accommodate (it has! ) th in g s
like c ra n k y m otorcars and ty p e w rite rs and u s , w ith o u r haw kings
and s p u tte rin g s and piteous little a d d ic tio n s. T h u s th e p a s t is
123
w iser and more c o m p reh en siv e, more com prehending th a n we
th o u g h t it was .
E a rlie r, D avie had show n th a t th e use of "hoary" o ld er form s could be
v in d ic ate d ; in h is "Six E p istles to Eva H esse" he ta k e s th e H u d ib rastic
c o u p le t, one of th e lea st elastic an d most dem anding of form s, and shows
ju st how much can be accomm odated w ithin them . Now, "In th e S topping
T rain " is D avie’s v indication of a n o th e r e ig h tee n th c e n tu ry form , th e
tra v e l book. B ut in ste a d of tra v e l b ein g u n d e rta k e n as a mode of
objective in q u iry , a m ethod of g a th e rin g em pirical know ledge of th e ways
of actual m en, and hence of hum an n a tu re in g e n e ra l, D avie em barks on
a q u e st fo r self-k n o w led g e. Like th e e ig h te e n th c e n tu ry tra v e l book, th e
poem is an occasion fo r moral iro n y and a device for ex p o sin g fra ilty , b u t
in th is case it is D a v ie's, r a th e r th a n m ankind’s fra iltie s , that arc ex p o sed .
Hence "In th e S topping T rain " shows D avie ex p an d in g th e old form s in
n o v e l, innovative w ays w hich d em o n strate how fa r he h a s m oved from his
e a rlie r Movement m ethod, y e t at th e same time affirm th e pow er of formal
v e rse to deal w ith co ntem porary e x p erien c e.
124
N otes to C h a p te r III
^Donald D avie, in P oets of th e 1950*8, p . 47.
o
Davie, "A Limited A ch iev em en t,T T A W inter T alent and O th e r Poems
(L ondon: R outledge and K egan P au l, 1957), p . 46.
3
In h is f ir s t book of criticism , P u rity of D iction in E nglish V e rs e ,
Davie defines good diction as a re s u lt of "m aking a selection from th e
language on reaso n ab le p rin cip le s and for a reaso n ab le p u rp o s e ," th a t
p u rp o se b e in g "to c re a te an effect on th e mind of th e re a d e r" ( p . 6 ) .
4
B la c k b u rn , p . 152.
5
C alvin B e d ie n t, "D onald D av ie," in his E ight C ontem porary P oets
(L ondon: O xford U n iv ersity P re s s , 1974), p . 25.
® B e d ie n t, p p . 25-27.
7
P a tric k S w inden, "Old L in es, New L ines: T he Movement T en Y ears
A fte r," C ritical Q u a rte rly , No. 9 (1967), p p . 355-57.
® M artin D odsw orth, "Donald D av ie," A g e n d a , 14, No. 2 (1976), p. 21.
9
D odsw orth, "Donald D av ie," p . 28.
D odsw orth, "Donald D avie," p . 28.
D onald G reen e, "A B re a k th ro u g h in to S p acio u sn ess: T he C ollected
Poems o f Donald D av ie," re v . art., Q u een 's Q u a rte rly , No. 80 (1972),
p . 609.
12
One of D avie's main co n ten tio n s in P u rity of D iction in E nglish
V erse is th a t economy in m etaphor is a poetic " s tre n g th " to w hich most
re a d e rs of m odern p o e try have been " b lin d e d ."
D avie, "O b iter D ic ta ," L is te n , 2, No. 1 (1956), p p . 7-8.
14
D avie, N otes to his C ollected Poems (New Y ork: O xford U n iv ersity
P re s s , 1972), p p . 301-02.
15
T he v e rb "cu t" p o sse sse s for D avie as fo r Pound a special m eaning:
"an adm iration for cu t sto n e , and for re la te d a rts like intaglio and th e
m aking of m edals, as th e image of a moral and c u ltu ra l p o sitiv e ." See
D avie, E zra P ound: Poet as S cu lp to r (L ondon: R outledge and K egan
P au l, 1964), p p . 126-127.
125
10
D avie, Thom as H ardy and B ritish P o e try (New Y ork: O xford
U n iv ersity P re s s , 1972), p . 173.
17
D avie, Thom as H ardy and B ritish P o e try , p . 176.
18
D avie, "F or an Age of P la stic s," in h is New and Selected Poems
(M iddletow n, C o n n ecticu t: W esleyan U. P r e s s , 1961), p . 55. His p r e f e r
ence for th e "h a rd " is also voiced in "T he 'S c u lp tu re ' of R hym e," also in
th is volum e, w here th e most c h e rish e d m aker is th e "m onum ental mason"
(p . 58).
1 9
D avie, E zra P o u n d , p . 155.
D avie, "F or an Age of P la stic s," p . 55.
21
D avie, "F or an Age of P la stic s," p . 56.
22
In an in te rv ie w w ith A. A lvarez, D avie m aintained th a t "th e blank
sh eet on which I tr y to w rite my poems is p re c ise ly th e b attlefield on
which I m aintain my id e n tity . I find it and m aintain i t ." T he Review,
No. 1 (1962) , p p . 10-25.
23
D avie, "A C onditioned A ir," in h is E ssex Poems (L ondon: Routledge
and K egan P au l, 1969); r p t . in C ollected Poem s, p p . 196-97.
24
For sim ilar trea tm e n t of th e same su b je ct see th e follow ing, also
from E ssex Poem s: "T he N orth Sea" (p . 182); "O ut of E ast A nglia" (p .
184); "Iowa" (p . 200); and "E pistle: To E n riq u e Caracciolo T rejo" (pp.
212-14). In th is la st poem , th e concluding lines could easily be applied
to D avie: "E x p atriate! th o u g h it be among / A people whose c o n stric te d
idiom / C annot em brace th e poets you th o u g h t to b rin g th em ."
25
In c re a sin g ly , as th e p eriod a d v a n c e s, D avie elides th e th re e
form al p h a ses of th e o riginal rh e to ric a l m ethod fo r added dram atic e ffe c t,
tum bling scene a fte r scene on top of one a n o th e r to accelerate th e p ace,
th e n slow ing it w ith a se rie s of rum inations s tr u n g to g e th e r.
2 6
D avie, "L andscape as Poetic F o c u s," S o u th e rn R eview , NS 4, No.
3 (1968), p p . 685-91.
27
D avie, "T he B lack M ountain P oets: C h arles Olson and E dw ard
D o rn ," in T he S u rv iv al o f P o e try , e d . M artin D odsw orth (L ondon: F ab er
and F a b e r, 1970), p p . 216-34; r p t. in T he Poet in th e Im aginary Museum,
B a rry A lp e rt, e d . (M anchester: C arcan et P re s s , 1977), p p . 182-83.
oq
D avie, "T he B lack M ountain P o e ts," p . 183.
29
See D avie, "On H obbits and In te lle c tu a ls ," E n c o u n te r, O ctober
1969, p . 87: "O ften w hen I seem to be s tu d y in g a n o th e r w rite r, i t's my
se lf I'm stu d y in g re a lly ."
126
30
His move from S ta n fo rd in 1978, to V a n d erb ilt, and his p u rc h a se
of a home in D evon, w here he now sp e n d s his sum m ers, may re fle c t a
reso lu tio n of th o se ten sio n s in h is w o rk ; t h i s , of course, is mere speculation.
31
D avie, Notes to C ollected Poem s, p . 303.
32
D avie, "Six E p istles to Eva H esse," in C ollected Poem s, p p . 272-73.
33
Michael S chm idt, "'Tim e and A gain': T he R ecent P o e try of Donald
D av ie," A g e n d a , 14, No. 2 (1976), p . 33.
34
D avie, "E nglish and A m erican in 'B rig g fla ts ,'" PN R eview , 5, No.
1 (1977), p . 19.
36
D avie, H a rd y , p . 128.
D avie, H ard y , p . 128.
37
D avie, "In th e S to p p in g T ra in ," in his In th e S to p p in g T rain and
O th e r Poems (M an ch ester: C arcan et P re s s , 1977), p p . 23-24. All
fu r th e r re fe re n c e s to th is poem a p p ea r w ithin th e te x t.
38
B a rb a ra H e rrn ste in Sm ith, Poetic C losure (C hicago: T he U n iv er
sity of Chicago P re s s , 1968), p . 2.
39
Herrnstein Sm ith, p . 160.
40
D avie, "A Com m ent," P o e try N atio n , 1, No. 1 (1973), p p . 54-55.
41
D avie, "A Com m ent," p . 56.
127
IV . Philip L arkin
Unlike o th e r Movement p o e ts Philip L ark in h as y e t to w rite a poem
about p o e try , an d he h as avoided elab o rate th eo rizin g about th e a rt in
th e belief th a t su ch activ ity is harm ful: "It is fatal to decide, intellectually,
w hat good p o e try is b ecau se you a re th e n in honour bound to tr y to
w rite i t, in ste a d of th e poems th a t only you can w rite . " 1 T he poems th a t
only L arkin can w rite are c e n te re d a ro u n d man’s h u n g e r for th e ideal and
th e im possibility of its e x iste n c e , aro u n d a conviction th a t
Life is f ir s t boredom , th e n fe a r.
W hether o r not we u se i t, it goes,
A nd leav es w hat som ething h id d en from u s ch o se,
A nd a g e , and th e n th e only end of a g e . 2
In sp ite of th is grim outlook, p e rh a p s even b ecau se i t , L arkin h as w ritte n
his poems w ith th e in te n tio n of re sc u in g h is ex p erien ces from th e void;
3
he believes th a t "th e im pulse to p re s e rv e lies at th e bottom of all a r t ,"
and view s th e act of w ritin g a poem as th e c o n stru ctio n of "a v e rb a l
device th a t would p re s e rv e th e e x p erien ce in d efin itely b y re p ro d u c in g it
4
in w hoever re a d th e poem ." T his is a view th a t d ep en d s heavily on th e
affective q u alities of p o e try , and L arkin h as c o n siste n tly cham pioned th e
rig h ts of th e re a d e r who is , for him , an e sse n tia l p a rt of th e poem , w ith
out whom "th e poem can h a rd ly be said to e x ist in a p ra c tic a l se n se at
all . . . p o e try is emotional in n a tu re and th e a tric a l in o p e ra tio n , a
5
skilled re -c re a tio n of emotion in o th e r p e o p le ."
C losely aligned to th is view o f p o e try is L ark in 's belief that the fonction
128
of a rt is, like w ork, to help u s down C em etery R oad. T he pessim ism
distilled in h is poems is p a rt of th a t h e lp , for L ark in , n o tin g th is q u ality
in th e w orks of Thomas H a rd y , sp e ak s of th e im portance of su ffe rin g or
sa d n e ss as an "in ten sely m atu rin g ex p erien ce" and sees th e "som etim es
iro n ic , sometimes b itte r b u t alw ays p a ssiv e ap p reh en sio n of su ffe rin g " as
a p o sitiv e , not a n eg ativ e q u a lity --n o t th e m echanical w orking
out of some p re -d e te rm in e d allegiance to pessim ism o r any o th e r
c o n cep t, b u t th e continual im aginative celeb ratio n of w hat is b o th
th e tr u e s t and most im portant elem ent in life, most im portan t in
th e se n se of sp iritu a l developm ent.®
T h is p a ssiv e acceptance of "th e tr ite untransferable / Truss-advertisem ent,
tru th " ("S en d No M oney," WW, p . 43) which L arkin so adm ires is also an
elem ent of O rw ell's w ork, to whose a c c e p t-e n d u re -re c o rd dictum L arkin
a d d s th e w ord "en jo y ." In fa c t, L a rk in 's p rin cip al objection to m odernism
an d th e tech n ical experim entation asso ciated with it is p a rtia lly b ecau se
m odernism does none o f th e s e . More im p o rtan t, L arkin d islik es all forms
of "m odern" a rt not b ecau se th e y a re new , "b u t b ecau se th e y a re irrespon
sible exploitations of tec h n iq u e in c o n trad ictio n of hum an life as we know
it. T h is is my e sse n tia l criticism of m odernism , w h eth er p e rp e tra te d b y
7
P a rk e r, Pound o r P icasso: it h elp s u s n e ith e r to enjoy n o r e n d u re ."
L a rk in 's commitment to hum an life as we know it is , as C alvin B edient
8
h as s u g g e s te d , th e reaso n for his p o p u la rity . His p o e try is aimed at a
g en eral re a d e rsh ip not unlike th o se he im agined re a d his jazz criticism :
"men whose firs t co ro n ary is coming like C h ristm a s; who d r i f t , loaded
h elp lessly w ith commitments and obligations and n e c e ssa ry o b se rv a n c e s,
in to th e d a rk e n in g avenues of age and in c a p a c ity , d e se rte d b y e v e ry th in g
Q
th a t once m ade life sw ee t."
129
T he poems w ritte n for su ch re a d e rs have b een hailed as th e b e st
b ein g w ritte n in E ngland to d a y , o r re p r e s e n ta tiv e , in th e ir lack of "vision"
and ex p erim en tatio n , of th e w orst a sp e c ts o f contem porary B ritish p o e try .
Sometimes th e two judgem ents a re com bined, as in Donald D avie’s a s s e s s
m ent of L arkin as "th e c e n tra l fig u re in E nglish p o e try o v er th e p a st
tw en ty y e a rs . . . . for good o r ill th e effectiv e unofficial la u re a te of
p o s t- 1945 E n g la n d ." 1®
C ritical com m entary on th e "developm ent" of L a rk in 's p o e try h as been
focused mainly upon th e m arked ch an g e s from th e overpow eringly Yeatsian
tone of L a rk in 's f irs t volume of p o e try to th e voice of th e m ature L arkin
in T he L ess D eceiv ed . 1 1 In th e In tro d u c tio n to th e second edition of The
N orth S h ip , L arkin rem em bers th a t he u se d to "lim ber up" b y re a d in g
12
Y eats. L ines like "She will co v er y o u r m outh / L est memory exclaim /
At h e r b en d in g face" (" F o rtu n e te llin g ," TN S, p . 35) o r th e re fra in "A
drum ta p s : a w in tr y drum " ("A ll catch e s a lig h t," T N S, p . 3) v e rify
L a rk in 's comm ent. C ritics have a ttrib u te d th e change of voice to L a rk in 's
13
d isco v ery of Thom as H a rd y 's w o rk s, and L ark in has spoken of it him self.
B ut since th e publication of T he Less D eceived (1954) , c ritic s b o th hostile
and frie n d ly have felt th a t there h as been sc arc ely any p e rc ep tib le change
in L a rk in 's p o e try . P a tric k Sw inden h as com plained th a t "h is u n a d v e n
tu ro u s and o b stin ate h o n e s ty , his lack of p re te n s io n , seem to hav e trapped
14
him into elegant re p e titio n o r even sile n c e ." D . J . Enright suggested that.
15
L arkin " a rriv e d all at once w here he was g o in g ." A nthony T hw aite
summed up the feeling of many c ritic s when h e a rg u e d th a t c ritic s try in g "to
sn iff out 'developm ent' . . . w ere w asting th e ir time or w ere dem onstrating
16
th a t L arkin was at no time th e ir m an."
130
While it is tru e th a t L arkin has continued to w rite poems th a t would
have been at home in New L in e s, and once said "I d o n 't th in k I want to
ch an g e; ju st to become b e tte r at w hat 1 am ," th e re have b een c ertain
17
ascertain ab le developm ents m h is p o e try . B ru ce M artin h as pointed
out some of th e d irectio n s L ark in ’s p o e try has ta k e n , su g g e stin g th a t th e
poet show s a grow ing p re fe re n c e fo r "m ore-elaborate stan zaic and sy n ta e -
18
tic p a tte rn s " (an d L arkin him self has m entioned th is) and "a stead y
19
developm ent in to realism ." Neil Powell n o tes th e rh e to ric a l p ro g ressio n
L arkin has made from th e "ch eatin g ly crisp " conclusions of th e early poems
to th e w ell-earned e n d in g s of some of th e la te r o n e s, as well as "a new
d e n sity and o b s c u rity , a m odified a ttitu d e to th e ageing of people and
20
th in g s , an a ltera tio n in th e tone o f his h u m o u r." A nd p a rtia lly because
L arkin him self hoped to e n la rg e , r a th e r th a n m erely p e rfe c t his poetic
r a n g e , he has slowly moved away from w riting s tric tly about his own
21
e x p e rie n c e s.
"T he W hitsun W eddings," w ritten in time for inclu sio n in New Lines II
(1963), is o ften cited as one o f L ark in 's b e s t, b u t it is also re p re se n ta tiv e
of c e rta in im p o rtan t tech n ical ch an g es in L a rk in 's p o e try w hich have
receiv ed less a tte n tio n . It is in clu d ed h e re in its e n tire ty not only because
each of its sta n za s co n tain s elem ents esse n tia l to an u n d e rs ta n d in g of th e
w hole, b u t b ecau se of th e m any illum inating c o n tra sts w ith th e e arlie r
L arkin poem tre a te d in C h a p te r II, "I Rem em ber, I R em em ber"--positing
th e d irectio n of L a rk in 's poetic d ev elo p m en t--an d w ith D avie's poem, "In
th e S topping T ra in ," d isc u sse d in C h a p te r III.
T h at W hitsun, I was late g e ttin g away:
Not till about
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O n e-tw en ty on th e su n lit S a tu rd a y
Did my th re e -q u a rte rs -e m p ty tra in pull o u t,
All windows dow n, all cushions h o t, all sense
O f b ein g in a h u r r y gone. We ra n
B ehind th e b ack s of h o u se s, c ro sse d a s tre e t
O f b lin d in g w in d sc ree n s, smelt th e fish -d o c k ; th en ce
T he riv e r 's level d riftin g b re a d th b e g a n ,
W here sk y and L incolnshire and w ater m eet.
All a fte rn o o n , th ro u g h th e tall h eat th a t slep t
F o r miles in la n d ,
A slow and sto p p in g c u rv e so u th w ard s we k e p t.
Wide farm s w ent b y , sh o rt-sh a d o w e d c a ttle , and
C anals w ith floatings of in d u stria l fro th ;
A h othouse flashed u n iq u ely : h ed g es dipped
And ro se : and now and th e n a smell of g ra s s
D isplaced th e re e k of b u tto n e d c a rria g e -c lo th
U ntil th e n e x t tow n, new and n o n d e sc rip t,
A pproached w ith acres of dism antled c a rs .
At f i r s t , I d id n 't notice w hat a noise
T he w eddings made
Each statio n th a t we sto p p ed a t : su n d e stro y s
T he in te re s t of w h at's h ap p en in g in th e sh ad e,
And down th e long cool platform s whoops and sk irls
I took for p o rte rs la rk in g w ith th e m ails,
And w ent on re a d in g . O nce we s ta r te d , th ro u g h ,
We p a sse d them , g rin n in g and pom aded, g irls
In p aro d ies of fash io n , heels and v e ils,
All poised irre so lu te ly , w atching u s go,
As if out on th e end of an e v en t
W aving goodbye
To som ething th a t su rv iv e d it. S tru c k , I leant
More prom ptly out n e x t tim e, more c u rio u sly ,
A nd saw it all again in d iffe re n t term s:
T he fa th e rs with b ro ad b e lts u n d e r th e ir su its
A nd seam y fo reh e ad s; m others loud and fa t;
An uncle sh o u tin g sm ut; and th e n th e perm s,
T he nylon gloves and je w e lle ry -su b s titu te s,
T he lem ons, m auves, and o liv e-o ch res th a t
M arked off th e g irls u n re a lly from th e r e s t .
Y es, from cafes
A nd b an q u et-h alls up y a rd s , and b u n tin g -d re s s e d
C o a ch -p a rty a n n e x e s, th e w e d d in g -d ay s
Were coming to an e n d . All down th e line
F re sh couples clim bed ab o ard : th e re s t stood ro u n d ;
T he la st co n fe tti and advice w ere th ro w n ,
A nd, as we m oved, each face seem ed to define
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J u s t what it saw d e p a rtin g : c h ild re n frow ned
' At som ething dull; fa th e rs had n e v e r know n
- S u c c e s s so h uge and wholly farcical;
T he women sh a re d
T he se c re t like a h a p p y fu n era l;
While g irls , g rip p in g th e ir h a n d b ag s tig h te r, sta re d
At a religious w ounding. F ree at la s t,
And loaded w ith th e sum of all th e y sa w ,
We h u rrie d to w ard s L ondon, sh u fflin g g o u ts of steam .
Now fields w ere b u ild in g -p lo ts, and p o p lars c ast
Long shadow s o v er th e major ro a d s , and for
Some fifty m in u tes, th a t in time would seem
J u s t long enough to se ttle h a ts and say
I nearly died3
A dozen m arriages got u n d e r w ay.
T h ey w atched th e lan d sca p e, s ittin g side b y side
--A n O deon w ent p a s t, a cooling to w er,
A nd someone ru n n in g up to b o w l--an d none
T h o u g h t of th e o th e rs th e y would n e v e r meet
O r how th e ir lives would all contain th is h o u r.
I th o u g h t of London sp re ad out in th e s u n ,
Its p o stal d is tric ts packed like sq u a re s of w heat:
T h ere we w ere aim ed. And as we raced a cro ss
B rig h t k n o ts of rail
P ast sta n d in g Pullm ans, walls of b lack en ed moss
Came close, and it was n e arly d o n e, th is frail
T rav ellin g coincidence; and w hat it held
Stood re a d y to be loosed w ith all th e pow er
T h at b ein g ch an g ed can give. We slowed ag ain ,
A nd as th e tig h te n e d b ra k e s took h o ld , th e re sw elled
A sen se of fallin g , like an arro w -sh o w er
S ent out of s ig h t, som ewhere becom ing ra in . (WW, p p . 21-23)
L a rk in 's in te n tio n to p u rsu e his poetic developm ent w ithin th e confines
of th e Movement rh e to ric a l schem e is im m ediately e v id en t when th e poem
is c o n tra ste d with D avie's "In th e S topping T ra in ," which moves sh a rp ly
away from th a t tra d itio n . T hough in both poems th e sp e a k e r is m oving
th ro u g h a lan d scap e on a local tra in , th e re a re a num ber of d ifferen c e s in
th e poetic m ethods u sed b y Davie and L a rk in . T he c e n te r of D avie's poem
is th e poet on a jo u rn ey into him self; L a rk in 's poem , d esp ite su b jectiv e
133
o rd e rin g of some of its d etails and a sh a rp inw ard tu r n at th e e n d , is
co n cern ed w ith m aking g en eralizatio n s a b o u t, r a th e r th a n a specific
resp o n se to , w ed d in g s. In D avie's poem only th o se frag m en ts of la n d
scape which stim ulate in tro sp e c tiv e flight a re re c o rd e d ; in L ark in 's th e
lan d scap e is sh a rp ly and realistically d e tailed , co n tin u o u s in its flow, and
c e n tra l to th e poem 's m eaning. D avie's poem gives th e im pression of being
w ritte n in th e h e at of th e moment, and its violent tw ists and tu rn s induce
s tro n g su sp e n se and an ticip atio n ; L a rk in 's poem is cool and re tro sp e c tiv e ,
and once its valence is c le a r, it u n fo ld s along p re d ic ta b le lin e s. D avie's
poem is o p e n -e n d e d , its te n sio n s c o n tin u in g beyond th e tem poral lim its of
th e poem; L a rk in 's is ro u n d ed in c lo su re , all its com ponents illum inated
when th e c irc u it is com pleted. D avie's c e n tra l fig u re sp eak s fo r a g en e
ratio n of E nglishm en; th e la rg e r c o n te x t of his tra in rid e is m odern
E n g la n d 's o d y sse y . L a rk in 's is a single voice a d d re ss in g a delim ited,
objective tr u th ; th o u g h la rg e r m eanings may b e sco red in to his W hitsun
w eekend jo u rn e y , n o th in g about th e poem e n co u rag e s th e re a d e r to read
th e trip on a political o r sociological (d e sp ite th e attem p ts of se v era l
c ritic s to do so) , and all th e e n e rg y of its "im agery” is pointed tow ard
22
in te n sify in g r a th e r th a n e x te n d in g th e m eaning.
B asically, "T he W hitsun W eddings" is an o u tw ard -lo o k in g Movement
poem which attem p ts to se c u re a tr u th from n a tu re th ro u g h a th r e e - p a r t
rh e to ric a l p ro c e d u re : in d u ctio n of a pro p o sitio n from o b se rv atio n of
n a tu ra l phenom ena ("N a tu re is co n cern ed w ith p re s e rv a tio n of the species"),
tr a n s fe r of th is p ro p o sitio n to some specific hum an c o n te x t (M an's co n cern
with in d iv id u al h a p p in e ss and se lf-fu lfillm e n t), and d ed u ctio n of a relevant
application ("However m uch man may th in k he can superim pose h is purposes
134
on th e w o rld , N atu re will have its w ay") .
A com parison of "T he W hitsun W eddings" w ith th e e a rlie r "I Remember,
I R em em ber," w hich also fe a tu re s o b se rv atio n s from a tra in , rev e als two
in te re s tin g developm ents in L a rk in 's u se of th e Movement method--techniques
w hich, when fully evolved in la te r poem s, add immeasureably to th e ric h
n e ss of L a rk in 's p o e try .
T he firs t and most obvious of th e se m odifications is th e replacem ent
of objective statem en t in th e conclusion of th e th ird ste p of th e rh e to ric a l
seq u en ce w ith a p ro jected im age. "I Rem em ber, I R em em ber," in typical
Movement fash io n , concludes w ith th e sum m ary statem en t ("N o th in g , like
som ething, h a p p en s an y w h ere") n ailing down th e poem 's ratio n al m eaning
firm ly and co n clu siv ely . Such clo su re is ad eq u ate to th e ta s k and
th o ro u g h ly in k e ep in g with th e dynam ics of L a rk in 's p o e try d u rin g th e
1950s. In th is poem , as in all his p o e try of th a t p e rio d , L a rk in 's prim ary
co n cern is with m aintaining a ste a d y and u n flin c h in g ratio n al a ttitu d e
23
to w ard re a lity , d e sp ite th e pull of affectiv e m em ory. T he r u s h of
feeling which th re a te n s to overcom e him when he firs t reco g n izes his
hom etow n, C o v e n try , he m an ag es--w ith g re a t e ffo rt--to tu r n aside and
d issip a te in savage p a ro d y and b itte r self-m o ck ery . T he conflict betw een
rea so n and emotion can be reso lv ed only b y w re stlin g feeling v e rb a lly to
th e g ro u n d , in o rd e r to form ulate an "accu rate" assessm en t in a concise
sta te m e n t. By th e time "T he W hitsun W eddings" was w ritte n , how ever,
L arkin had rela x ed his com pulsive.vigilance. Much more com fortable with
h is fee lin g s, he b eg an to accept them as p a rt of th e su b sta n c e of p o e try ,
p e rm ittin g him self to be guided b y them in th e selection and arran g em en t
o f details from th e scen e. O nce th e environm ental d etails b eg an to form
135
d esig n s conveying sig n ifican ce, ad eq u ate clo su re o f th e poems re q u ire d
h a rn e ss in g of th e affectiv e m eanings as well as th e in tellectu al o n e s ; hence
th e su b stitu tio n of an image w ith emotional valence for d r y , ratio n al
statem en t. A few of L a rk in 's e a rlie r poems end w ith su ch im ages, b u t
even in th e b e st of th e se th e y a re n e v e r left to c a rry th e w eight alone;
in s te a d , th e y a p p e a r in conjunction w ith e ith e r a rh e to ric a l q u estio n o r a
sum m arizing s ta te m e n t, as in th e ending of "D e ce p tio n s":
For you would h a rd ly care
T h at you w ere le ss d eceiv ed , out on th a t b e d ,
T han he w as, stum bling up th e b re a th le ss s ta ir
To b u rs t into fulfilm ent’s desolate a ttic . (T LD , p . 37)
In "T he W hitsun W eddings," th e d irect statem en t is ab an d o n ed . In
ste a d , th e final th re e lin es b rin g to g e th e r and re s o lv e --in th e concepts
of "fa llin g ," "arrow sh o w er," and "rain " w hich make up a complex p ro
jected im a g e --th re e affectiv e c u rre n ts evoked in th e re a d e r b y th e
environm ental o b jects and e v e n ts of th e poem. T he firs t of th e s e , th e
sex u al, is rooted sublim inally in su ch th in g s as th e s tro n g v e rtic a l in th e
scene (th e "tall h e a t," p o p lars c a stin g "long sh ad o w s," and looming
"cooling to w e rs" ), in o th e r sexual su g g e stio n s (" F re sh c o u p le s," "g o u ts
of steam ," " re a d y to be lo o se d ," "sw elled "), an d is b ro u g h t to th e surface
in th e "uncle sh o u tin g sm ut" an d in th e E lizabethan w o rd -p lay of " I
nearly died" and th e "se n se of falling" which accom panies release of
sex u al ten sio n at th e poem’s e n d . T he seco n d , th e "arro w -sh o w er / Sent
out of s ig h t," evoking fe a r of th e unknow n as Man lau n ch es him self h o p e
fu lly b u t blindly in to th e f u tu re , is bodied in th e tra in its e lf, whose d e s
tin atio n is not rev ealed u n til th e middle of th e six th sta n z a , and in such
136
in cid en tal im ages as "g irls "out on th e end of an e v en t / Waving goodbye
to som ething th a t su rv iv e d i t ," th e m ails, which somehow m ust reach th e ir
d e stin a tio n s on th e gam eboard of L ondon's p o stal d is tr ic ts , th e throw ing
of th e "last c o n fetti and a d v ic e ," and th e p e rso n " ru n n in g up to bow l."
T he th ir d , th e tran sm u tatio n of hum an "arrow s" in to N a tu re 's " ra in ,"
b eg in s in th e firs t sta n z a w ith "T he r iv e r 's level d riftin g b re a d th . . .
W here sk y and L incolnshire and w ater m eet" and in clu d es all th e "wide
fo rm s," th e "h o th o u se ," th e "hedges" and th e " g ra s s" w hich g rad u ally
give way to th e "b u ild in g p lo ts" and th e po stal d is tric ts "like sq u a re s of
w h eat." T h ese th re e th re a d s of th e term inal image a re k n o tte d into th e
concept of "b ein g c h a n g e d " --s e x u a lly , socially, s p iritu a lly --a n d re n d e re d
su b se rv ie n t to a la rg e r p u rp o se .
L ark in ’s a ttra c tio n to a scene w hich em braces c h a n g e , m utation, or
tra n s u b sta n tia tio n is th e second of th e im portant new developm ents in
poetic m ethod rev ealed in "T he W hitsun W eddings." "I R em em ber, I
Remember" b eg in s w ith a c e n tra l c h a ra c te r in a sta te of s ta s is ; he is more
o r le ss harm oniously, if minim ally, en gaged with h is en v iro n m en t. S u d
d e n ly , as th e tra in rea ch e s C o v e n try , th e environm ent u n d e rg o e s a
c h an g e , and th e poem w hich re s u lts is an explosion of re s ista n c e to th a t
c h an g e ; th e sp e a k e r, in e ffe c t, re fu s e s to ste p into m em ory. B y self-
flagellation he m aintains h is fid elity to th e p re s e n t as he know s it. T his
b asic a ttitu d e of Man tow ard en v iro n m en t, th is re sista n c e to e v ery in te r
feren ce w ith th e fu n ctio n s of th e in te lle c t, c h a ra c te riz e s all of L ark in 's
24
e a rly p o e try . Of th e two a g en ts to an actio n , Man and en v iro n m en t,
only environm ent may in itiate a poetic e v e n t, and th e action it se ts off
ta k e s th e form o f a fren zied se rie s o f e ffo rts b y th e poet to re s to re sta sis.
137
"T he W hitsun W eddings,” on th e o th e r h a n d , has ’’c h an g e ” as its
su b je ct (a s do a num ber of poems in th e volume named a fte r th a t poem:
n o tab ly "MCMXIV," "F aith H ealing," "A m b u lan ces,” "S u n n y P re s ta ty n ,"
"A fte rn o o n s," and even "An A rundel Tom b") and L ark in ’s acceptance of
it as a condition of life perm its him to explo re h is th e s is w ith d e ta c h m e n t,
s u b tle ty , and a delicate iro n y . T he poem 's c e n te r is a g rad u a l supplanting
25
of M an's p u rp o se s b y n a tu re , a su b o rn in g of love to p ro c re a tio n . T he
d is p a rity betw een th e ir p u rp o se s is foreshadow ed in th e b e g in n in g of th e
poem in th e s p e a k e r's annoyance w ith th e su n , which o v e rh e a ts h is coach
and p e rio d ic a lly --a n d p e rh a p s sym bo lically --b lin d s him. A ntagonism
betw een th e two w orlds is sh a rp e n e d slig h tly in th e second sta n z a , w here
"canals w ith floatings of in d u stria l fro th " and "acres of dism antled c ars"
c o n tra st--w ith o u t s tro n g d isso n a n c e--w ith th e b u rg eo n in g grow th of
animal and v eg etab le life. T he following sta n z a u s h e rs into th e foreground
th e couples in tra n sitio n betw een th e two realm s and draw s in c re a sin g ly
s tro n g a tten tio n to th e th in g s th a t have b e g u n to set off th e w edding
p a rtie s "u n rea lly from th e r e s t." T he m agnitude of th e change slowly
iso latin g th e new ly-m arried from th e ir hum an s e ttin g is re a d in th e faces
of th e m em bers of th e w edding p a rtie s , who can com prehend th e m utation
26
only in term s o f th e in d iv id u al dram as th e y have superimposed on reality.
At th e end of th e six th sta n z a , th e lan d scap e p re sa g e s th e su b tle c o n ta in
m ent, w ithin its narrow p ro c re a tiv e p u rp o s e s , of th o se whom N a tu re h as
ch o sen : "b ro ad farm s" give way to "b u ild in g p lo ts ," .a n d th e v e rtic a ls
and h o rizo n tals of th e e a rlie r lan d scap e b egin to c ro ss one a n o th e r, forming
a gridw ork th a t tig h te n s in to th e "p o stal d is tric ts packed like s q u a re s of
w h e at." Iso lated now from " o th e rs th e y would n e v e r m eet," c o n ta in in g --
138
and con tained b y --N a tu re ’s p u rp o se s, c a rrie d along h elp lessly on " b rig h t
k n o ts of rail" tow ard th e c e n te r of th e w eb, th e y a re finally flu n g like
arrow s in to th e fu tu re , "w ith all th e pow er / T h at b ein g changed can give."
Com pared w ith th e k in d s of ch an g es th a t D avie was m aking in his
p o e try of th is same p e rio d , th e developm ent o r change of sta te in L a rk in ’s
poem is minimal, b u t th e fact th a t it o c cu rs at all is sig n ifican t in his
poetic p ro g re s s .
"T he E x p lo sio n ," p u b lish ed n e a rly te n y e a rs la te r, illu s tra te s th e
com pression L arkin was able to achieve w ith th e two d e v ic e s --th e u se of
c h a ra c te rs in th e p ro c e ss of change (in th e s c e n e ) , and th e u se of a
p ro jected image (in th e a p p lic a tio n )--a s h e ex p lo red th e ir poetic p o te n tia l.
On th e day o f th e explosion
Shadows p ointed to w ard s th e p ith e a d :
In th e su n th e slagheap s le p t.
Down th e lane came men in p itb o o ts
C oughing o a th -e d g e d ta lk and pipe-sm oke,
S h o u ld erin g o ff th e fre sh e n e d silen ce.
One ch ased a fte r r a b b its ; lost th e m ;
Came back w ith a n e st of la rk ’s e g g s;
Showed them ; lodged them in th e g ra s s e s .
So th e y p a sse d in b e a rd s and m oleskins,
F a th e rs , b r o th e rs , nicknam es, la u g h te r,
T h ro u g h th e tall g a te s sta n d in g o p en .
At noon, th e re came a trem o r; cows
S topped chew ing fo r a second; su n ,
S carfed as in a h e a t-h a z e , dimmed.
The dead go on before us3 they
Are s i t ti n g in God's house in comfort3
W e sh a ll see them face to face —
Plain as le tte rin g in th e chapels
It was sa id , and for a second
Wives saw men o f th e explosion
139
L a rg e r th a n in life th e y m anaged--
Gold as on a coin, o r w alking
Somehow from th e su n to w ard s them ,
27
One show ing th e e g g s u n b ro k e n .
T his poem obviously h a s much in common w ith "T he W hitsun Weddings."
T he c e n tra l fig u re s , th e m in ers, a re moved th ro u g h th e arc of ultim ate
ch an g e--fro m life to d e a th --a n d th e m eaning of th e poem tu r n s on th e
c o n tra st betw een N a tu re ’s calm in d iffe ren c e to th e ev en t and Man’s
passio n ate e ffo rt to cope w ith it and give it m eaning in hum an te r m s .
L arkin d e p ic ts M an's w orld as one of shad o w s--sh ad o w s which p o in t,
in sta n za one, tow ard th e d e p th s whose d a rk n e ss he m ust tra v e l while th e
re s t of N ature sleep s in th e su n . His is also th e w orld o f so u n d ; N ature's
silence in th e face of th e q u e stio n ra ise d b y th e p re se n c e of Man is
"sh o u ld ered o ff," in sta n z a tw o, b y n e rv o u s ta lk and la u g h te r. M an's
too is th e world of movement se t a g ain st N a tu re 's stilln e ss in stanza th re e ;
Man seeks e n d le ssly , how ever small th e sp h e re p erm itted him may b e , and
w hat he b rin g s back from h is q u e st is alw ays a n o th e r statem ent of th e
m y ste ry , n e v e r w hat he so u g h t. His d e a th , when it com es, c au ses only
a "trem o r"; ongoing N atu re sc a rc e ly p a u ses to m ark his p a ssa g e .
B ut in th e ch ap els (th e hum an realm to w hich th e p ro p o sitio n co n
c e rn in g N a tu re 's in d iffe ren c e is re fe rre d and th e citadel of M an's d e te r
m ined Will to see th e world in h is own term s) d e a th is re je c te d . T he
u n iv e rs e is b ro u g h t down to hum an scale, re n d e re d in dom estic term s as
"G od's h o u se ," and M an's in te n tio n to live fo re v e r w ithin it is v igorously
a s s e rte d .
T he com pound term inal image (w hich c o n stitu te s th e "application"
140
p h a se of th e th r e e -p a rt rh e to ric a l seq u en ce in th is poem) is p ro jec te d b y
28
th e w iv es, r a th e r th a n b y L ark in as p o e t/o b s e rv e r. B y ch an g in g th e
m eaning of th e image as it evolves in th e women’s m inds, L arkin su sta in s
dram atic forw ard movement th ro u g h to th e end of th e poem (a movement
m irro red b y th e sy n ta c tic sp ill-o v e r w hich ru n s th e final sta n z a s into
o n e ). D ividing th e image in to two p h a s e s --th e firs t re p re s e n tin g th e
imm ediate re sp o n se of th e women to th e a u th o rita tiv e voice from th e pulpit,
th e second (th e o p erativ e p h ra s e o f w hich is iso lated as a single line)
m arking th e b e g in n in g of a r e tu r n to sp iritu a l so b rie ty and accep tan ce of
th e u n reso lv ed m y ste ry --g iv e s th e women dram atic life and b rin g s them
out o f th e ir p a ssiv e role as silen t m ourners in a G reek tra g e d y into th e
fo reg ro u n d of th e p ic tu re . C aptive at firs t to th e co n cep ts hum an society
has im posed on N a tu re , th e y g ra sp tra n s fig u ra tio n only in th e term s th e y
know , re n d e re d u n to C aesar on coin of th e realm o r haloed b y th e co n
v en tio n s of religious a r t. T he a fte r-im ag e , how ever, s trip p e d of sp iritu a l
s tr a in , tru ly b rin g s clo su re to th e poem . T he man p ic tu re d in th e final
line fo re v e r holds in his h a n d s a m y ste ry , u n b ro k en b y Man. N a tu re 's
g re a t fem inine c irc le , lim ned in th e poem as th e s u n , th e co in , th e e g g ,
is u n b re a c h e d b y Man and h is m asculine v e rtic a ls --th e tre e s w ith th e ir
long shadow s, th e tall g a te s, th e sh a fts of th e m ine.
T he g e n tle n e ss, com passion, and sp iritu a l poise rev ealed in th is poem
c o n tra s ts sh a rp ly w ith th e ten sio n s of L a rk in 's e a rlie st poetic c o n fro n ta
tio n s w ith d e a th . In th o se , d e a th is o ften e x p re sse d m etap h o ric ally --
"O nly one sh ip is seeking u s , a b lack - / Sailed unfam iliar" ("N ex t, Please,"
TLD, p . 20); "T h ere is an ev en in g coming in / . . . T h at lig h ts no lamps"
("G o in g ," TLD, p . 2 1 )--a n d th e poems end e ith e r on decisive b u t not
141
com pletely convincing n o tes ("in h e r wake / No w aters b re e d o r b re a k ")
o r w ith a m elodram atic flo u rish ("W hat loads my h a n d s dow n?"). T h ere
th e re s u lt is , to tu r n th e p o e t’s own w ords a g ain st him, a "costly aversion
of th e ey es from d eath " ("W ants," TLD, p . 22).
Yet m any of L a rk in 's most pow erful poem s, like "T he E xplosion," a re
e ffo rts to come to g rip s , in hum an te rm s, w ith th e ultim ate change of
s ta te , d e a th , and h is most in te re s tin g tech n ical experim ents w ithin th e
b asic Movement co n fig u ratio n have been d ev o ted to h is p erso n al s tru g g le
to accept th e in e v ita b le . "A u b ad e," f irs t p u b lish ed in late 1977, illustrates
one device L arkin h a s u se d to ad ap t th e Movement se q u en c e, w ith its
fundam entally o u tw ard o rie n ta tio n , to th is in te rio r q u e s t.
I w ork all d a y , an d get h a lf d ru n k at n ig h t.
W aking at fo u r to sou n d less d a rk , I s ta re .
In time th e c u rta in -e d g e s will grow lig h t.
Till th e n I see w h at's really alw ays th e re :
U n re stin g d e a th , a whole day n e a re r now ,
M aking all th o u g h t im possible b u t how
And w here and w hen I shall m yself d ie.
A rid in te rro g a tio n : y e t th e d re a d
Of d y in g , and b e in g d e a d ,
F lash es a fre sh to hold and h o rrify .
T he mind b lan k s at th e g la re . Not in rem orse
--T h e good not done, th e love not g iv en , time
T o rn o ff u n u s e d --n o r w retch ed ly b ecau se
An only life can ta k e so long to climb
C lear of its w rong b e g in n in g s, and may n e v e r;
B ut at th e to tal em ptiness for e v e r,
T he su re e x tin ctio n th a t we tra v e l to
A nd shall be lost in alw ays. Not to be h e re ,
Not to be an y w h ere,
A nd soon; n o th in g more te rrib le , n o th in g more tr u e .
T h is is a special way of b ein g afraid
No tric k d isp e ls. Religion u se d to t r y ,
T h at v a st m oth-eaten m usical b ro cad e
C reated to p re te n d we n e v e r die,
A nd specious s tu ff th a t sa y s No ra tio n a l being
Can fea r a thing i t w ill not f e e l 3 not seein g
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T h at th is is w hat we fe a r--n o s ig h t, no so u n d ,
No touch o r ta s te o r sm ell, n o th in g to th in k w ith,
N othing to love o r lin k w ith,
T he an ae sth etic from which none come ro u n d .
And so it s ta y s ju s t on th e edge of v ision,
A small u n fo cu sed b lu r, a sta n d in g chill
T h at slows each im pulse down to in d ecisio n .
Most th in g s may n e v e r h a p p en : th is one will,
And realisatio n of it ra g e s out
In fu rn a c e -fe a r w hen we are c au g h t w ithout
People o r d rin k . C ourage is no good:
It means not sc a rin g o th e rs . B eing b ra v e
L ets no one off th e g ra v e .
D eath is no d iffe re n t w hined at th a n w ithstood.
Slowly lig h t s tr e n g th e n s , and th e room ta k e s sh a p e .
It sta n d s plain as a w a rd ro b e, w hat we know ,
Have alw ays know n, know th a t we c a n 't e sca p e,
Yet c a n 't a cc ep t. One side will have to go.
Meanwhile telep h o n es c ro u c h , g e ttin g re a d y to rin g
In lo ck ed -u p o ffices, and all th e u n c a rin g
In tric a te re n te d w orld b eg in s to ro u se .
T he sk y is w hite as c lay , w ith no su n .
Work h as to be d o n e. 2 9
Postm en like d o c to rs go from house to house-.
"A ubade” is e sse n tia lly two poems se t in p a ra lle l, w ith much o f th e
m eaning of th e poem em erging from th e c o n tra st betw een th e two in th e ir
ability to se t out th e p o e t's feelings in communicable te rm s. T he firs t
a cts as a fram e and gives th e poem its tem poral and sp a tia l dim ensions in
th e objective w orld; it is a com plete Movement poem dealing w ith th e
phenom enon of w aking from sleep to th e b eg in n in g of a n o th e r d a y . T he
seco n d , which striv e s tow ard th e same th ree fo ld s tr a te g y , is an in te rio r
com panion of th e f ir s t; it p ro ce ed s ''u n su cc essfu lly " from an in n e r la n d
scape tow ard a term inal image sim ilarly in p arallel w ith th e f irs t poem.
T he o u te r fram e, red u c ed to its e sse n tia ls , c o n sists of th e f irs t th re e
lines of sta n z a o n e, th e firs t line of sta n z a fiv e , and th e final five lines
of th e poem. In i t , th e sp e a k e r w akes to a world w ithout sound o r lig h t.
143
Slowly th is environm ent u n d e rg o e s a change as lig h t b eg in s to give th e
room shape and m eaning. T he s p e a k e r, th e wholly in e rt ag en t o f th e two
p a rtie s to th e action in th e u n fo ld in g sc en e , th e n becom es a c tiv e , in fe rs
th e p rin cip le th a t ’’N ature re v iv e s each m o rn in g ,’’ and p ro ceed s to apply
it to him self, to in te rn alize i t. T he re s u ltin g deduction ta k e s th e form of
a p ro jected im ag e--a ’ ’r e n t e d ,” g ra y , in d iffe re n t w orld, th e s e ttin g for
a n o th e r p o in tless cycle o f w ork, d rin k , sle e p , and w aking. T h e re is life,
b u t no life -g iv in g su n ; w ork, b u t no activity b y which to grow . C aged
in offices and hom es, linked to th e w orld only by telep h o n es and th e
im personal fu n ctio n aries of so c iety , Man is c a rrie d along, p a ssiv e ly and
h e lp le ssly , on N a tu re 's m onotonous cy cles u n til it is time to d ie.
In sid e th is fram e, th e sp e a k e r w akes to an in te rio r d a rk n e ss which
co n tain s th e w aiting fig u re --a p p re h e n d e d ra th e r th a n se e n --o f " u n re s tin g
30
d eath " at h is b e d sid e . A ny e ffo rt th e poet m ight have made to p erceiv e
th e fig u re and th e scene in more c o n crete and communicable term s is
f r u s tr a te d b y th e su d d en o n set of th e "d re a d / Of dying" which "flash es
a fre sh to hold and h o rrify . / T he mind b lan k s at th e g la re ." T h ese two
p h y sical d e ta ils--th e shadow y p re se n c e o f th e fig u re of w aiting d e a th ,
o b lite ra te d as soon as a p p re h e n d e d b y a b lin d in g flash of lig h t-- a re all
th e poet is able to u se to com m unicate in tan g ib le form th e p sy ch ic p ro
g ressio n of th e scen e; each time he ap p ro ach es th e idea of d e a th --to
w hich he is h y p n o tically d ra w n --a ll th e o p e ra tio n s of reaso n a re ab o rted
b y a chaotic u p su rg e of alm ost in d escrib ab le em otion.
L ater a g ain , for exam ple, in a second approach b y th e ratio n al mind
to th e idea of d e a th , it "sta y s ju s t on th e edge of v isio n , / A small
u n fo cu sed b lu r , a sta n d in g chill / T h at slows each im pulse down to
144
in d ec isio n ." T h e n , "realisatio n of it ra g e s out / In fu rn ace fe a r," blinding
th e poet once a g ain . T hough he c lu tch e s at a b stra c tio n s, th e poet is
unable to p u t th e fig u re o r his feelings in solid, communicable te rm s. The
fig u re re p re s e n ts "em p tin ess," " s u re e x tin c tio n ," o r , m etaphorically, "the
a n ae sth etic from which none come ro u n d ," b u t by its v e ry n a tu re th e void
cannot be given co n crete form . A nd most of w hat he is able to re la te
about h is fe a r is n e g ativ e d efin itio n : th e fea r has n o th in g to do with!
rem orse or re g re t o r s e lf-p ity . It is "a special way of b ein g afraid " th a t
defies d e sc rip tio n . In s h o rt, th e only p roposition which em erges from th e
p o e t's fr u s tr a te d e ffo rt to move th e scene p a st th e point w here he becomes
in tellectu ally and em otionally sh o rt-c irc u ite d is th a t d e a th , b e in g n o th in g ,
is incom prehensible to man in e ith e r sen su o u s o r ratio n al te rm s.
F or th e re a d e r, m anipulated b y b ein g ta k e n th ro u g h th e p o e t's own
th o u g h t p ro c e sse s and b y th e sh ift from "I" to "we" in th e second sta n z a ,
an d hence stra in in g w ith him to e stab lish th e scene in com prehensible
poetic te rm s, th e p ro p o sitio n fails to m aterialize; his initial reactio n is a
feeling th a t th e poet h as been u n su c c e ssfu l in h is attem p ts to communicate.
B ut L arkin h as com m unicated ex actly as he in te n d e d : by th e time th e
re a d e r rea c h e s th e la st lines th e poet h as so skilfully re -c re a te d his own
fe a r in th e re a d e r th a t th o se fe a rs, if n ot h is v e ry view s, a p p e a r ju stifie d .
T his accom plishes m uch more th a n any "su ccessfu l" co n crete d e sc rip tio n
of d eath could hope to , for while one m ight d isp u te any su ch d ep ictio n ,
th e re is no d en y in g th e sp e a k e r's fe a r.
C a rrie d o v e r to th e c o n tex t of M an's h isto ric al e ffo rts to deal w ith th e
fea r of d e a th , th e pro p o sitio n is equally im possible to em body in a summary
im age, th o u g h th e concept " c u rta in ," evoking com parison with th e curtained
145
window in th e scene o f th e o u te r poem , h o v e rs above th e application phase
of th e poem. In c itin g th e failu re o f th e c h u rc h to hold back o r contain
th e lig h t of fe a r w ith a "m oth-eaten m usical b ro c a d e " --a fab ric fe a tu rin g
a b eg u ilin g d e sig n , im posed on plain c lo th , w hich follows only its own
in te rn a l laws of harm ony and re le v a n c e --L a rk in re a c h e s for p a rt of su ch
an im age. B ut th e in ab ility of philosophy to explain away th e fe a r of
d eath or of co u rag e to overcom e it a re n e v e r co n crete ly rea liz ed , and th e
poem is only feeb ly g ro u n d ed at th e end of its rh e to ric a l se q u e n c e .
F ru s tra te d in his se a rc h fo r c lo su re , th e re a d e r is th r u s t back in to th e
o u te r poem w ith its term inal image o f a su n le ss, re p e titio u s w orld. A gain,
th is is as L arkin in te n d e d , fo r th e poem se ts an u n su c c e ssfu l s tru g g le to
objectify th e in te rn a l w orld, to give comm unicable sen su o u s form to e ith e r
feelings o r th e o b jects of feelin g , in th e fram e of a m eaningless cycle of
daily " b irth " and "d eath " in th e objective w orld. "A ction" in e ith e r world
becom es im possible: no p ro g re s s tow ard self-know ledge is possible in th e
in n e r poem; p ro g re s s in th e o u te r poem m eans se n se le ss re p e titio n .
T his d o u b le-b in d th e s is b e a rs com parison w ith th e th e sis b eh in d th e
Medieval "m oving w h e el"--a fav o rite image in E nglish lite ra tu re from th e
Medieval p erio d to th e w ritin g s of T . S. E liot. In th is c o n cep t, Man is
p ic tu re d in h is objective w orld as tra p p e d on th e p erim eter of th e w heel,
e n d le ssly and p o in tlessly p u rs u in g his tem poral en d s in th e cycle of d a y s,
se aso n s, and y e a rs . T he only "tru e " action available to him is to b rea k
th e cycle b y d en y in g th e rea l world and th e p h y sical se lf so as to move
inw ard tow ard th e still c e n te r of p eace, G od. L a rk in 's in n e r q u e st leads
now here b u t back to th e o u te r w o rld --a w orld m ade more agonizing b y th e
in te rp la y betw een th e tw o. T h is is one of th e m eanings of th e statem ent
146
"One side will have to go" in th e final sta n z a of "A u b ad e." Man cannot
live w ithout p ain in th is life b ecau se no fru itfu l in te rre la tio n sh ip e x ists
betw een th e in n e r se lf and th e o u te r w orld.
D espite th e ex ten sio n s of poetic re a c h L arkin is able to o b tain b y such
devices as casing a Movement poem to fram e one of a d iffe re n t s o r t , th e
Movement m ethod rem ains fundam entally an tag o n istic to ex p lo ratio n of th e
p o e t’s in n e r la n d sc a p e . B asically out w ard -lo o k in g , even when momentarily
tu rn e d inw ard b y a term inal p ro jec te d im age, th e Movement poem , which
m ust b eg in with an o b se rv ed s c e n e , c re a te s an ex p ectatio n in th e re a d e r
th a t th e poet will engage with him b y m eans of a v o cab u lary ro o ted in a
re a lity th a t he and th e poet hold in common (h en ce th e "u n su c ce ssfu l"
attem p ts to d e sc rib e d e a th --a n e x p erien ce th e poet and re a d e r cannot
p o ssib ly s h a re --in co n crete te rm s ). Yet L ark in p lay s su c ce ssfu lly on ju s t
su ch ex p ectatio n s in "A u b ad e," and if th e re a d e r w ere not s tra in in g to
fulfill a p arallel betw een th e two ex p erien c es b y b rin g in g th e e n tire poem
to c lo su re , th e re s u ltin g "failu re" would have no m eaning for him w ithin
th e poem.
T hose sections of th e poem which com prise th e in n e r e x p erien c e are
almost e n tire ly a b s tra c t and as su ch a re h ig h ly d id ac tic . ' B ut unlike
L a rk in 's e a rlie r poems of statem ent, th is one is fram ed b y a c o n crete
o b se rv atio n of th e o u te r w orld, one w hich m itigates to some e x te n t th e
didacticism of th e poem. L arkin h as lea rn ed and p u t to good u se one of
th e f irs t ru le s of argum ent:, th a t th e re a d e r m ust have som ething th a t
looks like h is own e x p e rie n c e , o r one he m ight have h a d , if it is to do
m uch tow ard c h an g in g his id ea s; th a t r a th e r th a n be p rea ch e d a t, he
p re fe rs to th in k he h as found out som ething for him self.
147
L arkin u se s th is s tra te g y not only in "A u b a d e ," b u t in many of his
b e st poem s, and it is one he has o u tlin ed : "I te n d to lead th e re a d e r in
b y th e h an d v e ry g e n tly , say in g th is is th e in itial ex p erien ce o r o b jec t,
and now you see th a t it m akes me th in k of th is , th a t and th e o th e r, and
31
w ork up to a b ig fin is h --I m ean, th a t's th e so rt o f p a tte r n ." T he "big
finish" in "A ubade" is not im m ediately a p p a re n t, th e final line u n s a tis
fac to ry u n til th e re a d e r realizes th a t th e let-d o w n is in te n d e d . T he tone
of a u th o rity w ith w hich L arkin in v e s ts th e poem grow s g ra d u a lly , fostered
b y o th e r tec h n iq u e s also ty p ical of his w ork. T he freq u e n cy of absolutes
("alw ays th e r e ," "to tal em ptiness for e v e r ," " s u re e x tin c tio n ," "lost in
a lw ay s"), su p e rla tiv e s ("n o th in g more te rrib le , n o th in g more tr u e " ) , and
u n iv e rsa ls ("all s a y ," "all th o u g h t," "none come ro u n d ") culm inates in th e
re p e titio n of th e k ey w ord "know" ("w hat we know , / Have alw ays know n,
know th a t we c a n 't escap e") which echoes th e u se of th e w ord "no" nine
tim es elsew here in th e poem (along w ith tw e n ty -s ix o th e r n e g ativ e forms!) .
Such re p e titio n s, as stu d ie s of sound p a tte rn s in p o e try have demonstrated,
a re p e rsu a siv e devices which "make th e w ords come to u s w ith all th e
32
fo rce of in ev itab le v e ritie s ." T he same force is conveyed b y th e more
formal reinforcem ent of a llite ra tio n , asso n an ce, and sy n ta c tic parallelism
in p h ra s e s like "we c a n 't e sca p e, / Yet c a n 't accept" o r "n o th in g more
te rrib le , n o th in g more tr u e ."
T his s tra te g y is p a rt of L a rk in 's pow er as a p o e t. He h as said "I am
n e v e r p a rtic u la rly p leased to be told th a t my w ork is b ein g stu d ie d by
some stu d y g ro u p . B ut I am pleased when people who have rea d one of
33
my poems w rite to tell me of sim ilar e x p e rie n c e s ." Such p o e try is also
an attem pt not only to illu m in a te ex p erien ce b u t to e x p re ss tr u th s as
148
well, and L arkin h as said as m uch: "I really w ant to h it them . I w ant
re a d e rs to feel y e s , I'v e n e v e r th o u g h t of it th a t w ay, b u t th a t's how it
• „34
is ."
L arkin sees man doomed fo re v e r to th e o u te r rim of th e Medieval
w heel, ru le d b y d iu rn al im p e ra tiv e s, b u t he re fu s e s to g ra n t any heroic
s ta tu re to th e sh o u ld erin g of su ch ta s k s (we cannot im agine L arkin happy):
"w ork has to be done"; at b e st it m erely k eep s one from " h e a rin g th e
h o u rs chime" ("T o ad s R e v isite d ," WW, p . 18). Sim ilarly, h is m editations
are voiced in commonplace form s (th o u g h th e re is n o th in g commonplace
about h is daedalian u se of th o se form s) so fam iliar th a t th e re a d e r h a rd ly
notices them : "T he Explosion" ta k e s th e H iaw atha rh y th m fo r a discussion
of d e a th ; L a rk in 's m orning song (an d one im agines th a t th e p o ssib le play
on w ords did not escape th e p o e t), "A u b ad e," is h is ironic recognition of
th a t g e n re .
L arkin is a poet who h as rem ained c o n sta n t to Movement p rin cip le s
while show ing ju st how fa r th o se p rin c ip le s can be e x p a n d e d , how much
excellent p o e try can be w ritte n w ithin th o se c o n fin e s. His is a p o e try in
which th e sty le is p la in , th e form s co n v en tio n al, th e diction colloquial; a
p o e try in w hich th e u se of sym bol, m etaphor and im agery is re s tra in e d ; a
p o e try which deals w ith th e u n ex cep tio n al o r commonplace o c c u rre n c e s of
life in a re a lis tic , re s tra in e d , at tim es iro n ic m anner. Yet w h e th er or
not one accep ts L ark in ’s bleak view s, h is p o e try sa tisfie s th e most hum an
of d e sire s: to hav e th e turm oil of ex p erien ce given perm anence and
com m unicability b y h av in g b een sh a p e d .
149
N otes to C h a p te r IV
* Philip L ark in , in P oets of th e 1950fs , p . 77.
2 ’
L ark in , "D ockery and S o n ," in his T he W hitsun W eddings (L ondon:
F ab er and F a b e r, 1964), p . 16. All su b se q u e n t re fe re n c e s to poems in
th is collection will be in d icated p a re n th e tic a lly w ithin th e te x t, u sin g th e
ab b rev iatio n WW.
3
L ark in , in P oets of th e 1950’s , p . 77.
4
L ark in , in T hw aite, "T he P o etry of Philip L a rk in ," T he S u rv iv al of
P o e try : A C ontem porary S u rv e y , e d . M artin D odsw orth (L ondon: F ab er
and F a b e r, 1970), p . 47.
5
L ark in , "T he P le asu re P rin c ip le ," p . 28.
6
L ark in , "W anted: Good H ardy C ritic ," T he C ritical Q u a rte rly , 8 ,
No. 2 (1966), p . 178.
7
L ark in , In tro d u ctio n to All What Jazz (New Y ork: S t. M artin’s
P re s s , 1970), p . 17.
g
B ed ie n t, p . 71. C alling him "th e o th e r E nglish Poet L a u re a te ,"
B edient sa y s: "If L arkin is not m erely adm ired b u t lo v ed , it is p a rtially
b e ca u se, fin d in g p o e try and hum our even in s te rility , he makes it bearable:
he shows th a t it can be b o rn e w ith grace and g e n tle n e ss ."
9
L a rk in , J a z z , p . 18.
D avie, H a rd y , p . 64.
^ See especially L olette K u b y , "From th e N orth Ship to Now," An
Uncommon Poet for th e Common Man (T h e H ague: M outon, 1974), p p . 159-
67; P e te r F e rg u so n , "Philip L ark in ’s XX Poem s: T he M issing L in k ,"
A g en d a, 14, No. 3 (1976), p p . 53-65; D avid Tim m s, "T he N orth S h ip ,"
Philip L arkin (New Y ork: B arn es and Noble, 1973), p p . 22-35.
12
L ark in , In tro d u c tio n to T he N orth S h ip , 2nd. e d ., (L ondon: Faber
and F a b e r, 1966), p . 10. All su b se q u e n t re fe re n c e s to poems in th is
collection will be from th e o rig in al edition (L ondon: T he F o rtu n e P re s s ,
1945) an d will be in d icated p a re n th e tic a lly w ithin th e tex t, u sin g th e
ab b rev iatio n TNS.
13
L ark in , "Philip L arkin P ra ise s th e P o e try of Thomas H a rd y ," T he
L is te n e r, 25 (Ju ly 1968), p . 111.
150
1 4 S w inden, p . 353.
15
E n rig h t, "Down C em etery R o ad ," re v . of T he W hitsun W eddings,
b y Philip L ark in , New Statesm an (28 F e b ru a ry 1964), p . 331.
T hw aite, "T he P o e try of Philip L a rk in ," p . 45.
17
Ham ilton, "F our C o n v e rsa tio n s," London M agazine, NS 4, No. 6
(1964), p . 77.
18
T hw aite, "T he P o e try of Philip L a rk in ," p . 48. "L ark in once said
to me th a t he would like to w rite a poem w ith su ch elab o rate sta n z a s th a t
one would w ander ro u n d them as in th e aisles and sid e -ch a p els of some
g rea t c a th e d ra l."
19
Bruce M artin, Philip L arkin (B oston: T w ayne P u b lish e rs, 1978),
p p . 130-131.
20
Neil Powell, "Philip L ark in : An Uncle S houting S m u t," in his
C a rp e n te rs of L ight (M anchester: C arcanet New P re s s , 1979), p . 99.
21
L ark in , in Timms, p . 121: "What I should like to do is w rite
d iffe re n t k in d s of poem s, th a t m ight be by d iffe re n t people. Someone
once said th a t th e g re a t th in g is not to be d iffe re n t from o th e r people,
b u t to be d iffe re n t from y o u rs e lf."
99
P. R . K ing, "W ithout Illusion: T he P o etry of Philip L a rk in ," Nine
C ontem porary P oets (L ondon: M ethuen, 1979), p . 36. It is d o u b tfu l th a t
L arkin in te n d ed th is poem as "alm ost a m uted p ra y e r f o r th e continuously
rev italizin g pow er of change in society - a forw ard im petus and hope of
fulfilm ent; even if su c h fulfilm ent-rem ains 'out of s ig h t.'" In d ee d , I
would a rg u e ju st th e o p p o site.
23
L arkin sp eak s d ire c tly of th is in th e poem "W hatever H ap p en e d ?":
"At once w h atev er hap p en ed s ta r ts reced in g " ( T he L ess D eceiv ed , Hessle,
Y o rk sh ire: T he M arvell P re s s , 1954, p . 25. All su b se q u e n t re fe re n c e s
to poems in th is collection will be in d icated p a re n th e tic a lly w ithin th e te x t,
u sin g th e a b b rev iatio n TLD) , and it may account for the playfully approving
lin es "B ut o, photo g rap h y ! as no a r t is , / F aithful and d isa p p o in tin g !"
in "L ines on a Y oung L ad y 's P h o to g rap h Album" (TLD , p . 13).
24
L a rk in , in P oets o f th e 1950's, p . 77, n o tes: "My prim e re s p o n si
b ility is to th e ex p erien ce its e lf."
25
T his is a them e L arkin tr e a ts as early as 1946, in th e poem "Wedding
W ind," ( r p t . as th e firs t of XX Poem s, B e lfa st, 1951; given a title in TLD,
p . 15) and in " S p rin g ," (" V III," XX Poem s; r p t . and given a title in TLD,
p . 36). N a tu re 's in d iffe ren c e to any n eed s b u t h e r own is m entioned in a
num ber of poems in The W hitsun W eddings: th e c o u n try sid e in "MCMXIV"
is p ic tu re d as "not carin g " (p . 28); in "Talking in Bed," L arkin m entions
wind , < c lo u d s, s k y , horizon, only to observe: "None of th is cares for us." (p. 29).
151
26
T his is v e ry d iffe re n t from th e view p re s e n te d in D avie's "In th e
S topping T ra in ," w here th e sp e ak e r n e v e r sees any o th e r face th a n his
ow n, re fle c te d in th e tra in window.
27
L ark in , "T he E xplosion," in h is High Windows (L ondon: F a b e r and
F a b e r, 1974), p . 42. All su b seq u e n t re fe re n c e s to poems in th is collection
will be in d icated p a re n th e tic a lly w ithin th e te x t u sin g th e ab b rev iatio n HW .
28
T h is seem s p a rtia lly a re su lt of L ark in ’s grow ing "public" voice,
as he moves aw ay from w ritin g s tric tly about his own e x p e rie n c e s. He
had done th is e a rlie r in "F aith H ealing" (WW, p . 15), th e firs t of his poems
to deal w ith a situ atio n he had not e x p erien ced at firs t han d ("Philip
L arkin R eads an d Comments on The W hitsun W eddings," H essle, Yorkshire:
L isten R ecords , 1965) ; th e women in th a t poem a re p re c u rs o rs of th o se in
"T he E xplosion."
29
L a rk in , "A u b ad e," Times L ite ra ry S upplem ent, 23 D ecem ber 1977,
p . 1491.
30
In c o n tra st to L a rk in 's e a rlie r p ic tu rin g s of d eath in active p u rsu it
(a s in "N ext P le a se "), th e la te r poems show in ste a d an aw areness of it;
as in "E ssen tial B eauty" (WW, p . 42), w here "d y in g sm okers sen se /
W alking to w ard s them th ro u g h some d ap p led p a rk / As if on w ater th a t
un fo cu sed she / No m atch lit up n o r d ra g e v e r b ro u g h t n e a r, / Who now
sta n d s new ly clear / Sm iling, and re c o g n isin g , and going d a rk ."
31
L ark in , T he Poet S p e a k s, A rgo R ecord Com pany, 1967, reco rd
no. 8 .
32
T . W alter H e rb e rt, "Sound and S ense in S h a k e sp e a re 's S o n n e ts,"
as q u o ted in H e rrn ste in Sm ith, p . 165..
L a rk in , "S peaking of W riting: X III. Philip L a rk in ," T he T im es,
20 F e b ru a ry 1964, p . 16.
34
L ark in , in Miriam G ro ss, "A Voice For O u r T im e," T he O b s e rv e r,
9 D ecem ber 1979, p . 35.
\
152
V . Thom G unn
The whole o f Thom G un n's w ork may be view ed as a d eb ate betw een
w hat he has term ed "th e passion for definition and th e passion for flow ,"
a d eb ate risin g out of h is belief th a t man e x ists in a sta te of ten sio n not
only w ith th e re s t of n a tu re , b u t also betw een h is animal se lf and his
ratio n al m ind} T h is notion o f a divided self ru n s th ro u g h o u t his p o e try ,
from th e early w orks w hich em phasize th e ra tio n a l, and S a rtre a n notions
of will, to th e more re c e n t poems which celeb ra te m an's n a tu ra l se lf. For
G u n n , th e act of w ritin g p o e try has become p a rt of an attem pt to close the
gap betw een th e tw o, to achieve th a t balance w hich he spoke of in "To
Y vor W inters, 1955":
You keep both R ule and E n erg y in view ,
Much pow er in e a c h , most in th e balanced two:
F erocity e x istin g in th e fence ^
B uilt b y an ex ercised in tellig en ce.
Of all th e Movement p o ets Gunn h as b een th e most activ e experim enter,
b o th in h is p e rso n al life (one th in k s most n o tab ly of his experim ents with
d ru g s ) and in his poetic p ra c tic e s , p e rh a p s b ecau se he feels th a t th e two
a re in e x tric a b ly lin k ed : "W riting p o e try has in fact become a c e rta in stage
in my coping w ith th e w orld, o r in th e way I tr y to u n d e rs ta n d what
h ap p en s to me and in sid e me. P e rh a p s I could say th a t my p o e try is an
attem pt to g r a s p , w ith g ra sp m eaning b o th to ta k e hold o f in a firs t bid
3
at p o ssessio n , and also to u n d e rs ta n d ." ' . *
G unn's early attem p ts to "g ra sp " ex p erien ce c e n te re d larg ely around
153
e x iste n tia l action as a m eans of self-d e fin itio n ; th e w ord "will" a p p ea rs
again and again in his p o e try , and ’'co n tro l" is th e q u a lity most p ra ise d in
h is criticism , of th e 1950s. G unn n o tes o f th a t p erio d : "W riting p o e try
4
became th e act of an e x iste n tia list c o n q u e ro r, ex cited and a g g re ss iv e ."
His collection T he S ense of Movement (1957) re fle c ts th a t a ttitu d e : th e
"cre ate d will" is c e le b ra te d in "On th e Move" (p . 12); th e sp e a k e r in "The
N atu re o f an A ction" a s s e rts "My cau se lay in th e will" (p . 14); th e ta sk
of man in "Human C ondition" is to "Find out th e lim itation of mind and
u n iv e rse " (p . 18); r a th e r th a n "sit irre so lu te all day" one m ust "ste e l th e
will" for action in "L ines for a Book" (p . 30);;"b o o tstrap s and M arine belt"
are "rem in d ers of th e will" in "M arket at T u rk " (p . 32); th e animal n atu re
of th e boy in "T he A llegory of th e Wolf Boy" is se t loose "ag a in st th e will"
(p . 35); "th e p u re will" in "Ju lian th e A postate" ( p . 38) arid "th e d elib
e ra te hum an will" in "To Y vor W inters (p . 44) are seen as p o sitiv e v a lu e s;
th e cy clist in "T he U n settled M otorcyclist's Vision of His D eath" sum s up
th e dilemma found in all of th e se poem s: "My hum an will cannot subm it /
To n a tu re , th o u g h b ro u g h t out of it" (p . 28). So m uch is made o f will
th a t many c ritic s condem n w hat th e y see as G unn's celeb ratio n of th e
b ru ta l; Alan Bold goes so fa r as to su g g e st th a t "a fu tu re d efin itiv e
edition will be tig h tly bound in le a th e r, w ith a buckle for a c la sp , so th a t
5
re a d e rs can ap p re cia te in full its fe tish istic c h a ra c te r."
O th e r c ritic s have com plained of G unn's ten d en cy to w rite in th e
sty le s of o th e r poets (m ost n o tab ly D onne, Em pson, A u d en , th o u g h Y eats
an d Eliot are also m entioned) ; even while John M ander p ra is e d Gunn for
h av in g "b ro u g h t th e m etaphysical m anner once again w ithin h ailin g d is
tan c e o f Jo h n D onne," he ad d ed th a t G unn's major w eakness is " a c ertain
154
0
d e riv a tiv e n e ss ." In London M agazine's P o etry Symposium (1959) he was
7
hailed as "th e most v ital and comm anding poet of th is d e ca d e." Yet
Roy F u ller n o ted : "Mr Thom G unn has been rig h tly reco g n ised as perhaps
th e most co n sid erab le poet of his g en eratio n b u t it seem s to me th a t his
second book, T he S ense of M ovem ent, is larg e ly th e work of an Am erican
p o e t." ^
W hether o r not Gunn can be co n sid ered an A m erican p o e t, th e re is
no d isp u tin g th e effect his move th e th e U nited S ta te s h as had on his
p o e try . B y th e time New L ines was p u b lish e d , he h ad been living in
C alifornia for n e a rly a y e a r; he has since made San F rancisco his home.
A nthony T hw aite sp eak s o f th is move as "c ru c ia l, g iv in g him not only new
9
them es b u t a new m an n e r." T h is is a view sh a re d b y Neil Powell when
he sp eak s of G unn's attem p ts to b re a k out of "th e m athem atical lim itations
o f trad itio n a l form."'*'® Of th e m any who have n o ted G unn’s experim ents
w ith form , P . R . K ing sees G unn's p o e try developing into a mode which
11
e n acts th e d e sire d e x p e rie n c e , r a th e r th a n d e sc rib in g i t. And Clive
Wilmer also sees G u n n 's poetic developm ent m oving tow ard fre e v e rs e of
th e so rt w ritte n b y William C arlos Williams, v e rs e w hich "seem s to discover
its m eaning as it p ro c e e d s, as if th e poem is a seq u en ce of th o u g h t enacted
b efore u s , affected b y th e moment: a sense of th o u g h t (an d poem) as
.,12
p ro c e ss.?1
T he b e g in n in g of th is poetic developm ent took place in 1955 at Stanford
U n iv e rsity , w here Gunn h ad tak e n u p a w ritin g fellow ship u n d e r Y vor
W in ters. Gunn has alw ays m aintained th e n e c e ssity of le a rn in g th e c ra ft
of p o e try , a s s e rtin g th a t "We le a rn to w rite, c e rta in ly , from 'th e c o n stan t
13
im itation of g re a t m a s te rs .'" T he move to C alifornia b ro u g h t w ith it
155
e x p o su re to a whole new se t of m asters--A m erican in flu en ces w hich w ere
to have a p ro fo u n d effect on h is p o e try . G unn n o tes: "My ex p erien ce
m ust have been sim ilar, in some w ays, to th a t of an a p p re n tic e to one of
th e R enaissance p a in te rs . It was c e rta in ly th e most im poratnt sin g le y e a r
of my w ritin g life: W inters c o n stan tly en co u rag ed me to e x te n d m yself, to
14
tak e r is k s ." Almost im m ediately G unn moved beyond W inters' conception
of p o e try , which seem ed to exclude "m uch o f w hat I could not b u t con-
15
sid e r good p o e try ." H ow ever, one of th e "risk s" W inters en co u rag ed
G unn to ta k e --th e w ritin g of syllabic v e rs e --w a s im m ediately a p p a re n t in
G unn's th ird volume of p o e try : My Sad C aptains (1961) is s p lit, sig n ifi
c a n tly , in h alf.
Gunn h as spoken of th e f irs t h alf of th e volume as "th e culm ination of
my old sty le --m e tric a l, ra tio n a l, b u t m aybe s ta rtin g to get a little more
hum ane. "T he second h a lf," he a d d s , "co n sists o f a ta k in g u p of th a t
hum aner im pulse in a se rie s of syllabic poems w hich w ere som ething new
16
in my w o rk ." T he "old" sty le G unn sp e ak s of— Movement p o e try , in
fa c t--is a ratio n al act in w hich a delim ited p o rtio n of n a tu re is sc ru tin iz e d
u n til it y ield s an a p p a re n tly u n iv e rsa l pro p o sitio n about th e p ro c e sse s of
life. T he v alid ity of th is p ro p o sitio n is th e n te s te d in some hum an context.
Since th e p o e t's im m ediate, affectiv e re sp o n se s to th e scene a re likely to
ra n g e from irre le v a n t, at b e s t, to d is tra c tin g , at w o rst, su ch a poem
g en erally u nfolds in th e p a st te n s e , and th e p ro c e d u re sc re e n s out all but
th e echoes of feelin g . P o e try of th is so rt rise s out o f th e p o e t's b elief in
th e elusive n a tu re of e x p e rie n c e , o r, as G unn p u ts i t , "th e fact th a t th e
im portant and vivid Now slides im m ediately in to th e p a st" (h en ce his defi-
17
nition of p o e try as an attem pt to " g ra sp " e x p e rie n c e ). B ut su ch p o etry
156
also, b y its v e ry n a tu re , ex clu d es th e hum ane im pulse w hich G unn now
w anted to b rin g into h is p o e try .
’ ’L ig h ts among R edw ood,” f irs t p u b lish ed in M arch 1961 (E n c o u n te r,
16:3) and re p rin te d la te r th a t y e a r in My Sad C a p ta in s, rev e als an early
d issa tisfac tio n w ith Movement p ro c e d u re and contains th e em bryo of a
poetic m utation unlike any e n g e n d e re d b y his colleagues in New L in e s:
A nd th e stream s h e re , ledge to led g e ,
tak e c are of lig h t. O nly to
th e pale g ree n rib s of y o u n g fe rn s
ta n g lin g above th e c re e k 's edge
it may sometimes e sca p e, th o u g h
in quick d iffu sin g p a tte rn s .
E lsew here it h as become to n e,
p u re an d ra re fie d ; at most
a m uted dim ness colored
w ith m o ss-g re en , c h a rre d g re y , leaf-b ro w n .
Calm shadow! T hen we at last
rem em ber to look u p w ard :
c o n sta n t, to laws of size and
age th e th ic k form s h old, th o u g h gashed
th ro u g h with In d ian fire s . At once
tone is fo rg o tte n : we sta n d
and sta re --m in d le s s, d im in ish ed --
at th e ir ro sy im m anence. 18
U ntil th e la st sen ten ce of th e second sta n za (th ro u g h ’’Calm shadow!"),
which m arks th e a p p a re n t end of th e s tu d y of th e scen e, th is is v e ry
m uch a Movement poem; even th o u g h G unn has abandoned his u su al iambic
m eters for a se v en -sy lla b le lin e , th e poem is held tig h tly to g e th e r b y a
s tric t aboabe rhym e schem e, and th e scene is , as u su a l, firm ly contained
and sh ap ed by th e p ro p o sitio n . Stream s "tak e care of lig h t" --b o th in th e
sen se o f accep tin g and a b so rb in g b rig h tn e s s and of fu rth e rin g n a tu re 's
p u rp o se s b y re fle c tin g th e s u n ’s n u rtu r in g ra y s evenly to th e flora at
157
th e ir b a n k s. As G unn say s in a la te r poem , ’’S u n lig h t": "What c a p tu re s
lig h t belongs to w hat it c a p tu re s" (M, p . 44). T he b rig h tn e s s of th e
so u rce is m odulated b y th e w aters to a "tone" su itin g th e fra g ility and
v u ln e ra b ility of th e liv in g p la n ts.
And th e n th e cam era eye sw ings u p w ard ; th e p a sto ra l scene is su c
ceeded b y a n o th e r: th a t o f th e tre e s which also filte r lig h t. H ow ever,
th o u g h th e p re se n c e of th e tre e s is e sta b lish e d , w h atev er antiphonal
harm ony m ight have b eg u n to em erge d u rin g m an’s e n c o u n te r with n a tu re
is drow ned o u t: th e b ra n c h e s are "g ash ed / th ro u g h w ith Indian fire s ."
T he p roposition is in v e rte d : m an, in resp o n se to a second scene which
su cceed s to th e fo reg ro u n d of p e rc ep tio n , feels d isp lac ed , "dim inished."
In k eep in g w ith th e o v e rto n e s evoked b y "In d ian f ir e s ," he feels th r u s t
back to "m in d less," prim itive o rig in s.
While th e b asic view of th e hum an c o n d itio n --a n e x iste n tia l alienation
from n a tu re --re m a in s th e same h e re as in e a rlie r poem s, th e ground is
b e in g made re a d y fo r th e seed s of possible philosophical, and th e re b y
tec h n ic al, c h an g e . T he im portant m ethodological ch an g es foreshadow ed
h e re , exam ined in term s of th e th re e -p h a s e d esig n of Movement p o e try ,
a re th e se : f ir s t, a second scene "beyond" th e p e rc e p tu a l fo reg ro u n d
initially p re s e n te d is em erging to c o n trad ict or com plicate c e re b ra tio n in
th e poem. S econd, th e p o e t’s resp o n se to th is o th e r re a lity is becom ing
more im m ediate; he re sp o n d s "At o n c e ," b efo re he is d istan c ed from th e
scene b y ratio cin atio n . T h ird , th e new p ro p o sitio n , w h eth er o r not it
affirm s th e isolation of ratio n al man in th e u n iv e rs e , is v alid ated p rin c i
pally b y emotional a sse rtio n : th e sp e a k e r is stu n n e d , m indless, and he
feels iso la te d . T he evolving philosophical shift attendant to the p ro ce d u ral
158
ch an g es in th e trip a rtite s tru c tu re of th e poem’s "arg u m en t” may be
s ta te d as an em erging conviction on G unn’s p a rt th a t (1) b en eath or beyond
the scene p e rceiv ed b y th e ratio n al eye lu rk s a n o th e r sc en e , a n o th e r co n
te x t fram ing th e o b se rv e d d a ta , w ithin which man m ight find accommodation
to n a tu re if ( 2 ) , unlike th e sp e a k e r in th is poem , he sees and re sp o n d s at
th e same moment of contact w ith h is whole b e in g , u tilizin g a second sig h t
th a t in clu d es th e p erc ep tio n s of h is su b co n scio u s. T his c o n v ic tio n --th a t
at some h id d en level o f aw aren ess (accessib le sometimes th ro u g h d ru g s )
th e re e x ists th e p o ssib ility of tra n s ito ry b u t in te n se flashes of harm onious
accord w ith th e re s t of n a tu r e - -is one which becom es of in c re a s in g im por
tan c e to G unn, and its effects on his p o e try a re fa r-ra n g in g .
T he most notable of th e se is his sh ift from syllables to fre e v e rs e ,
for Gunn ev en tu ally found th a t "th e v irtu e s of syllables [are] in d is tin
guishable from th o se of fre e v e rs e , so one m ight as well w rite free v e rse
and tr u s t e n tire ly in th e rh y th m s r a th e r th a n p a rtly in th e num ber of
19
sy lla b le s." Such a sh ift was n e c e ssa ry for a p o e t, in te n t on ch an g in g
his ap p ro ach to th e e x te rn a l w orld, who believes th a t "rhythm ic form and
20
su b je ct m atter are locked in a p erm an en t em b race." S till, it is im por
ta n t to note th a t n e ith e r his ex p erim en ts w ith syllabics n o r his ev en tu al
move to free v e rs e have p re v e n te d G unn from w ritin g in more tra d itio n a l
m eters, a point he has o ften m ade: "I have not abandoned m eter, and in
try in g to w rite in b o th free v e rs e and m eter I th in k I am d iffe re n t from a
lot of my co n tem p o raries. . . . th e re a re th in g s I can do in th e one form
21
th a t I c a n 't do in th e o th e r, and I w ouldn't gladly re lin q u ish e ith e r."
E lsew here, he sa y s:
159
I like L aw rence's d e scrip tio n of m eter as belonging to th e p a st and
fu tu re , and fre e v e rse to th e p r e s e n t. M eter is a ttra c te d to
th o u g h t- o u t, p o n d ered su b ject m a tte r, its p assio n s te n d to be
more d u ra b le , it c u ts d e e p e r, it is more d eterm in ed . . . . And
m eter (th e iam bic lin e , especially) seem s to hav e deep affinities
with th e E nglish lan g u ag e.
Which is not to say th a t th e re a re n 't th in g s th a t free v e rse
does b e tte r . F ree v e rs e is a ttra c te d to th e su b je ct m atter of th e
p re s e n t in th a t it adm its th e u n fo rse e n , th e ephem eral, th e sp o n
tan eo u s more e a sily --th e image flo atin g in fro n t of y o u r face, th e
rhythm su d d e n ly d isc o v ere d . T h ere is a sen se o f im provisation,
of it h ap p en in g while you are re a d in g i t . 22
D u rin g th e y e a rs th a t followed publication of My Sad C a p ta in s, G unn
w rote a g re a t deal of fre e v e rs e , and in 1966 he b ro u g h t out a book w ith
his b ro th e r A n d e r; P o sitiv es c o n sists of th irty -s e v e n poem s, and th ir ty -
nine p h o to g rap h s ta k e n b y A n d e r. T he poem s, w ritte n in free v e rs e , are
in te n d e d as d ire c t comments on th e p h o to g rap h s (an d in fa c t, w ithout th e
p h o to g rap h s th e se poems lose m uch of th e ir m eaning) . A lthough th e re
a re to u ch es of th e old co n cern s ("Y outh is pow er. He know s i t , / a
23
ro u g h yo u n g animal . . . at ease in his power. For / can there be limits?"),
fo r th e most p a rt G unn has abandoned th e a g g re ssiv e ly e x iste n tia list
a ttitu d e s w hich dom inated h is e a rlie r poem s. In s te a d , he d e p ic ts , without
comm ent, o rd in a ry people in commonplace situ a tio n s, a s trid e sco o ters and
bicycles more o ften th a n m otorcycles. R a th e r th a n to u ch es of Movement
"w it," th e re a re hum orous m om ents, th o u g h a g ain , lines like "T he liv e r
and onions is o ff, / so is th e golden sponge p u d . So, / it a p p e a rs , a re
th e custom ers" (P , p . 60) depend heavily fo r th e ir effect on th e accom
p an y in g p ic tu re (in th is c a se , no s u b s titu te d title could have the eloquence
of th e p h o to g rap h of a w aitress whose e x p re ssio n ra d ia te s e x a sp e ra tio n ,
e x h au stio n and sex ap p eal, a ll - a t -o n c e ) . More im p o rtan t, how ever,
is th e fact th a t th e se poems refle ct G unn's attem pt to w rite free v e rse of
160
th e so rt w ritte n b y a poet he h ad come to adm ire: "I was consciously
borrow ing w hat I could from William C arlos Williams, try in g as it w ere to
anglicize him , to help make his o peness of form and feeling available to
24
E nglish w rite rs ."
T hat q u ality which G unn adm ires most in Williams’ p o e try is not "th e
P o u n d ia n tec h n iq u e s of frag m e n ta ry ju x ta p o sitio n , p a rtic u la rly betw een
th e p a st and th e p r e s e n t," w hich Williams u sed in P a tte rso n (G unn com
p lain s in a n o th e r e ssay th a t "A tech n iq u e of frag m e n ta ry d isco u rse" such
25
as th is p ro d u ce s most o ften "a m ass of hallucination") , b u t ra th e r
Williams' "love fo r th e e x te rn a l w orld" and h is " se a rc h fo r w ays of in c o r
p o ra tin g more of it in to h is p o e try . T his s e a rc h ," say s G unn, " is th e
preo ccu p atio n of any good w rite r," and he goes on to p ra ise Williams not
only for "th e c la rity of evocation, th e se n sitiv ity of m ovem ent, and th e
p u rity of lan g u ag e in his e ffo rts to realise sp o n ta n eity " b u t for th e
" te n d e rn e s s and g e n ero sity of feeling which m akes them [his sty listic
26
qualities] fully hum ane."
In G u n n 's w ork, th a t se arc h p ro d u ces a poem like th e follow ing:
T he mold from baked b ean s th a t
even she c a n 't eat ed g es
onto th e damp s tic k s , n e ttin g ,
b o n e s, le a v e s, slab s
of r u s t , fe lt, fe a th e rs ,
all d is in te g ra tin g to
an in fec te d com post.
T he infection in it is slow,
slig h t, d e ep , and it has c e rta in n e e d s,
for see, it re sp o n d s to w arm th.
O utside th e abandoned ho u ses
w here she slep t on old p a p e rs
she s tirs in th e s u n . (P , p . 74) .
161
T he Movement ap p ro ach would h av e been to induce a prem ise from th e
o b serv atio n of th e n a tu ra l phenom ena (th e mould re sp o n d in g to w arm th) ,
tr a n s fe r th a t prem ise to th e hum an realm (th e old woman s tir r in g in th e
s u n ) , and deduce a rele v an t a p p lica tio n , to be a s s e rte d as " t r u t h ."
In ste a d , Gunn trie s to w rite a poem rem iniscent at tim es of Williams’ "To
a Poor Old Woman" ("m unching a plum on / th e s tre e t a p a p e r b ag / of
27
them in h e r h an d ") - - a poem which h as no sym bolism , no fig u ra tiv e
la n g u a g e, no h id d en m eaning, no dram atic action (no b e g in n in g , m iddle,
en d ) , no re fe re n c e to a w orld beyond th a t w hich th e poet s e e s ; a poem
w hich has m erely d e sc rip tio n , which trie s only to c a p tu re th e p ro c e ss of
p e rc e p tio n . W ritten in th e p re s e n t te n s e , th e poem seem s at firs t glance
to accom plish th is , to m erely re c o rd th e in s ta n t of G unn's e n c o u n te r w ith
th e old woman in th e same way th a t A n d e r’s p h o to g rap h re c o rd s th a t
m om ent.
While G unn m anages, b y th e u se of im ages risin g from th e same ra d iu s
of d isco u rse draw n upon b y Williams (hom ely, e v e ry d a y o c c u rre n c e s ), to
b rin g a more hum ane elem ent in to h is poem , he is not really w ritin g poetry
sim ilar to th a t of th e A m erican p o e t. His poem is a rra n g e d in a v a rie ty
of w ays: most n otably in th e image p a tte rn (all re la te to infection and
decay) and in th e rh e to ric a l p a tte r n . B ut th e poem is not really a
Movement poem e ith e r, fo r in ste a d o f th e in d u c tiv e /d e d u c tiv e p a tte rn
ty p ical of th a t k in d of p o e try , G unn's poem p ro ceed s to its conclusion b y
analogy. Elem ents from th e w orld of man ("b ak ed b e a n s ," " n e ttin g ,"
"fe lt” ) and th e world of n a tu re ("m ould," " s tic k s ," " le a v e s ,” "fe a th e rs" )
are placed side b y side ("all d isin te g ra tin g to / a in fec te d com post"),
se c u rin g a parallel which allows th e re a d e r to e x te n d th e an alo g y , should
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he wish to do so , and to draw parallels between th e scene and, for exam ple,
th e society w hich perm its it to o c c u r. U nlike a Movement poem, how ever,
no d irec t a u th o rial comment o c c u rs.
Not all of th e p o e try G unn w rote d u rin g th is period is so d iffe re n t
from h is e a rlie r w o rk s. It is illum inating to tra c e h is evolving poetic
m ethod b y exam ining tra n sitio n a l poems w hich a re still fundam entally
"Movement" in th e ir rh e to ric a l sh ap e and form al in th e ir m etrical p a tte rn s ,
b u t which illu stra te th e se arc h for a lte rn a te ways of view ing e x p erien c e.
A com parison of th e way G unn deals w ith th e e x iste n tia list argum ent
(th a t each in d iv id u al is resp o n sib le for m aking him self what he is) in 1955
(in ’’Merlin In T he C ave: He S peculates W ithout A Book”) and again in
1967 (in ”In th e T an k ” ) p ro v id es a se n se of th e d irectio n in which G unn
was m oving. In th e early poem, th e p ic tu re of man sh ap in g his d e stin y
th ro u g h choice an d action is p re se n te d b y th e u se of a m ythical fig u re .
In th e cav e, which becom es a symbol for th e hum an condition, a b s tra c t
id eas a re p e rso n ifie d : M erlin is "held b y th e arm s of l u s t ,” a p riso n e r in
"th e absolute p riso n w here chance th r u s t me” ; while "emblems doze p e r
fect and q u iet" he n o tes th a t "all w ithin my mind / H overs com plete"
(TSOM, p . 58) . T h at hallm ark of Movement p o e try , "w it," is p re s e n t in
c le v er w ord p lay : "T he b ird is only meat fo r a u g u ry " (p . 56). T h e re is
a ric h n e ss of im agery: "And h e re th e m auve convolvus falls in , / Its
narrow stalk as fat and rich in sap / As I was ric h in lu stin g " (p . 56);
and a ric h n e ss of so u n d : in te rn a l rhym es and re p e titio n s ("H eld b y th e
arm s of lu st from lu st I pace / A bout th e dim fulfilm ent of my a rt" [p. 56]),
consonance, asso n an ce, and alliteratio n combine w ith th e rh y th m s of th e
poem (iam bic p en tam eter in one of th e most form al of E nglish sta n za forms,
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rime royal) to rein fo rce th e effect of b alan ce, b in d in g to g e th e r sound and
sen se u n til th e argum ent s trik e s th e re a d e r with th e e n e rg y of a closed
fis t.
T h ere are sim ilarities betw een th is and "In th e T a n k ," w hich is also
com posed of a n o th e r tra d itio n a l E nglish sta n z a form (th e q u a tra in ) , u sin g
a common rhym e schem e (a b a b ) , and iambic p e n ta m e ter, th o u g h irre g u la r.
T he s e ttin g is m odern, b u t th e ta n k also becom es a sym bol fo r th e hum an
co n d itio n , th o u g h it is d e sc rib e d in fa r more co n crete term s th a n is
M erlin’s cave. All we know o f th a t " te rrib le cave" is th a t th e re is a small
hole th ro u g h which th e m agician can see th e s k y , and th a t it "is em pty,
and is v e ry cold" (p . 57) ; all o th e r d e scrip tio n is re s e rv e d for M erlin's
th o u g h ts . In c o n tra s t, th o u g h we know n o th in g of th e felon, who is not
even given a nam e, n o r of th e circu m stan ces w hich b ro u g h t him to th e
cell, th e ta n k is d e sc rib e d c o n cretely :
T he cell was clean and c o rn e re d , and contained
A bow l, g re y g ritty so ap , and p a p e r tow els,
A m attre ss lum py and not o v e r-s ta in e d ,
Also a to ile t, for th e felon's b o w e ls.2* *
T h e re is no color in th e ta n k (th o u g h th e lig h ts have been "flicked off at
nine / He saw as clearly all th e re was to see: / An o rd e r w ithout colour,
b u lk , o r lin e " ), re fle c tin g a tru e o rd e r once o b sc u re d b y d etails of th e
w orld o u tsid e ("R ed w eath ered b ric k , fo u n ta in s, w iste ria ” ) . T hough th e
them es a re e x actly th e sam e, betw een
What could I do b u t s ta r t th e q u e st once more
T ow ards th e te rrib le cave in which I liv e,
T he absolute p riso n w here chance th r u s t me b efo re
I b u ilt it ro u n d me on my s tu d y floor; (TSOM, p . 58)
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and
T he jail contained a ta n k , th e ta n k contained
A b o x , a m ere su sp e n sio n , a t th e c e n te r,
W here th e re was n o th in g left to u n d e rs ta n d ,
And w here he m ust re e n te r and re e n te r (T , p . 52)
th e re is a noticeable p a rin g down of la n g u a g e.
A n other good exam ple of G unn’s p o e try in tra n sitio n is "T he Rooftop"
(1967). In th is poem, G unn u se s a basically six -sy llab le line of q u a tra in s
rhym ing abba . T hough th e poem is w ritte n in th e p re s e n t te n s e , th e
su b je ct m atter is really of an ev en t in th e p a s t, fo r it is " th o u g h t-o u t,
p o n d ered su b ject m atter" w hich fo cu sses prim arily on th e exploration of
th e re a lity b en eath a p erceiv ed scene:
White h o u ses b an k th e h ill,
F acing me w here I s it.
It should be ad eq u ate
To w atch th e g a rd e n s fill
With s u n lig h t, w ashing tre e ,
B u sh , and th e y e a r’s la st flow ers,
A nd to sit h e re fo r h o u rs ,
Becom ing w hat I s e e . ^
T he th ird sta n z a is th e most d ire c t poetic statem ent b y any Movement
poet of th e e sse n tia l lim itation of th e ir ap p ro ach and of th e scientific
m ethod from w hich it d e riv e s:
P ercep tio n gave me th is :
A whole w orld, b it b y b it.
Yet I cannot g ra sp it- -
B its, not an edifice.
T h is sta n za m arks th e b eg in n in g of an im p ressio n istic, sp ecu lativ e probing
of th e autum n scene fo r a h id d en u n ify in g p ricip le b in d in g man to th e rest
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of n a tu re :
Long w ebs float on th e a ir.
G listen in g , th e y fall and lift.
I tu rn it dow n, th e gift:
S uch frag ile lig h ts can te a r.
T he h eat fre ts e a rth a lre a d y ,
H arrow ed b y fu rio u s ro o t;
T he wireworm ta k e s his loot;
T he m idday su n is ste a d y .
P etals tu r n brow n and sp la y ;
Loose in a c e n tra l shell
S eeds w hitening d ry and swell
Which lig h t fills from d ecay .
T he firs t c lu e --th e p re se n c e in th e a ir o f th re a d s b y w hich n ew -b o rn
sp id e rs a re d isp e rse d on th e w in d --th e p o ets re je c ts; he tu r n s in ste a d to
more fam iliar and solid gro u n d a n d , m om entarily su sp e n d in g some of th e
in h ib itin g fu n ctio n s of his n e o -c o rte x , he evokes a second scene and
p ro b es th e life-cy cle of th e p lan t and its r e b ir th , out of d e ca y , th ro u g h
seed s:
R u th le ss in clean unknow ing
T he p lan t obeys its n eed ,
A nd w orks alone. T he seed
B u rs ts , b a re as bone in going,
B ouncing from ro t tow ard e a rth ,
Com pound of r o t , to w ait,
An arm oured c o n ce n tra te
C ontaining its own b ir th .
An u n se en edifice.
T he se e n , th e ta n g le s , lead
From seed to d eath to seed
T h ro u g h g reen closed p a ssa g e s.
C ontained in th is seco n d , im agined sc e n e , som ewhere beyond "th e
se e n , th e ta n g le s ," som ew here beyond th e " ru th le ss " in d iv id u al stru g g le
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for s u rv iv a l, is th e u n ify in g "u n seen e d ific e ," sen sed by his subconscious
b u t ju s t beyond th e g ra sp of his ratio n al m ind. T hough th e q u e st for
know ledge is not fully su c c e ssfu l, he r e tu r n s w ith a new p e rsp e c tiv e on
th e "g a rd e n s" of th e h o u se s, w aiting for when th e y fill w ith new life ,
p e rh a p s even w ith c h ild re n , in th e sp rin g :
T he lig h t d ra in s from th e h ill.
T he g a rd e n s r u s tle , cold,
H uddled in d a rk , and hold,
W aiting for when th e y fill.
T h u s a p arallel e x is ts , at le a s t, betw een man and p la n t, house and
"ed ifice ," and had th e poet b u t a second s ig h t, a la rg e r d esig n m ight
hav e em erged.
T he se a rc h for su ch a second s ig h t, th ro u g h th e u se of d ru g s , is a
c o n stan t them e in th e poems of Moly (1971). A gain and again G unn p ic
tu re s man u n d e rg o in g some so rt of tran sfo rm a tio n which b rin g s him in
to u ch w ith th e animal side of his n a tu re : in "R ites of P a ssa g e ," "Some
th in g is ta k in g p lace. / H orns b u d b rig h t in my h air" (M. p. 5). "Nightmare
of b easth o o d , sn o rtin g , how to w ake. / I woke. What beasthood sk in she
made me tak e?" a sk s one of C irce’s victim s in th e title poem (M, p . 6 ) .
In a m odern s e ttin g , th e d ru g d ealer of " S tre e t Song" holds out th e p ro
mise of release from th e c o n stra in ts of th e ratio n al side of m an’s n a tu re :
Join me, and I will tak e you th e re ,
Y our head will c u t out from y o u r h a ir
Into w hichever se lf you choose.
With M idday Mick man you c a n 't lo se ,
I'll get you a n y th in g you n eed .
Keys lid s a c id and speed. (M , p . 28)
B ut th e poet recognizes th a t one can lose w ith Midday Mick; in one o f
167
th e only two p ro se poems in th e volum e, "T he Color M achine," G unn notes:
"G iving him self to th e color m achine, one of u s became in v isib le" (M, p .
30
25). A fusion of b o th sid es o f n a tu re is b e s t. Such a fusion is achieved
b y s u rfe rs in "T he W ave":
T he m arbling bodies h av e become
Half w ave, h a lf m en,
G rafted it seem s b y feet of foam
Some se co n d s, th e n ,
Late as th e y c a n , th e y slice th e face
In tim ed p ro cessio n :
B alance is triu m p h in th is p lace,
T rium ph p o ssessio n . (M, p .' 18)
T he c e n ta u r poems "T om -D obbin," in Moly, a re f u r th e r exam inations
of th e se arc h for a joining of b o th halves of m an's n a tu re . Each of th e se
five poems deals w ith a se p a ra te p h a se of m an's evolution in term s of
philosophical dualism . T he mode d iffe rs from th e in d u c tiv e /d e d u c tiv e
m ethod of G unn's Movement p o e try : th e re a d e r is given few if an y clues
about th e n a tu re of th e e x te rn a l scene which in sp ire d th e in te rn a l a f te r
shocks th e poet seek s to c a p tu re in w o rd s. T he exam ination of th e scene,
th e f irs t p h ase of th e rh e to ric a l se q u e n c e of Movement p o e try , is replaced
b y exam ination of a se rie s of in te rn a l scen es in sp ire d b y , b u t no lo n g er
ratio n ally connected w ith , th e ir so u rce in th e rea l w orld. In s h o rt, th e
poet h as attem pted to s u rre n d e r th e poetic lead to h is su b co n scio u s, his
mammalian b ra in , o r w h atev er th e re is w ithin him w hich still re ta in s th e
in s tin c ts of h is animal se lf. T he D obbin h a lf of th e poet (ev o k ed by
d r u g s , o r o rg a s m ), whose vision is re fra c te d in th is poem th ro u g h th e
ey es of various p erso n ae w ithin th e poet who are lineal d e sc e n d a n ts of
D obbin, is presum ably w ritin g th e se ries of poems (ev en when he quotes
168
Tom) .
T he fir s t poem d e sc rib e s, in free v e rs e , th e am bigious o rig in s of
man’s dual n a tu re :
lig h t is in th e pupil
lum inous seed
and lig h t is in th e mind
c ro ssin g
in an in s ta n t
p assag e betw een th e two
seam less
im perceptible tra n sitio n
sk in m elting dow nw ard to hide
at th e c e n ta u r's w aist
th e re is th e one
and a t once it is also th e o th e r
fa ir fre c k le d sk in , th e blond down on it
b ein g at all p o in ts
a b e g in n in g
to th e glossy c h e stn u t brow n which
is also at all p o in ts
a b eg in n in g u pw ard (M, p . 20)
As th e ’’lum inous seed" p a sse s between "m ind" and "pupil" (s p irit and
m a tte r, sk y and e a r th , y an g and y in , and so o n ), th e half-m an, h a lf
b e ast is b o rn . One of th e chief v irtu e s o f th is so rt of free v e rs e is a
sy n ta c tic a l am biguity w hich m irro rs th e "im perceptible tra n sitio n " from
sk in to h id e . For exam ple, "cro ssin g " in line fo u r may be th e v e rb
a c tiv a tin g th e e a rlie r "Lum inous s e e d ," o r o n e, o r b o th , of th e lig h ts , o r
it may be a p a rticip le floating freely among a v a rie ty of a b sen t n o u n s. A
num ber of ideational p a tte rn s may be d isc e rn e d among th e s c a tte re d gram
m atical refle ctio n s a n d , as a co n seq u en ce, th e re a d e r w orks alongside th e
poet to p e n e tra te th e d e p th s of m eaning.
T he ch ief v irtu e of th e fragm ented th o u g h t se q u en c e, ho w ev er, is to
ev o k e, b o th in th e poet and th e re a d e r, a p e rso n a a p p ro p ria te to th e
169
m aterial. A c ertain am ount of ro le-p lay in g is e sse n tia l b o th to th e e ffo rt
to elim inate th e in te rfe rin g p re se n c e of th e p o et’s own p e rso n ality and to
th e se arc h fo r an ad eq u ate p e rsp e c tiv e on th e m aterial. In th e firs t poem,
th e image pow erfully evoked b y th e b ro k en th o u g h t p a tte rn is a p p ro p ri
ately m ythological: th e an cien t p ro p h e t in te rp re tin g th e voice from th e
flam e. T h is is T ire sias sp e a k in g , o r h is g ra n d fa th e r, and an a ir of
m y stery su rro u n d s h is u tte ra n c e s and stim ulates th e su b co n scio u s.
T he second poem sw itches a b ru p tly to a d iffe re n t voice; th e re is a
com plete ch an g e of to n e; and b o th of th e se ch an g es a re em phasized by
th e sw itch to a h ig h ly form al form . T he u se of closed co u p lets ("H ot in
his m ind, Tom w atches D obbin fu ck , / W atches, and sm iles w ith p le a su re ,
oh w hat lu ck ") im plies a d istin c t isolation, a vig o ro u s en clo su re of Tom
and D obbin in a com pact and m om entarily se lf-su ffic ie n t little w orld of
circu m scrib ed se n se and m eaning:
In coming Tom and D obbin join to o n e --
O nly a m oment, ju st as it is done:
A shock of w h iten e ss, shooting like a s ta r ,
In w hich all colors of th e spectrum a re . (M, p . 21)
F u rth e r up th e c o n jectu ral h e re d ita ry sp ira l, in th e th ird poem , th e re
is only sen satio n :
He g rin s , he p lu n g es in to o rg y . It moves about him in easy
e d d ie s, and he e n te rs th e ir m ingling and b ra n c h in g . He sp re a d s
w ith them , he is v ein ed w ith su n sh in e .
T he cobalt gleam of a peacock’s n e c k , th e c o u rse of a wind
th ro u g h g ra s s e s , d ista n t smoke frozen in th e s k y , a re ex ten sio n s
of self. (M, p . 21)
T he te rs e sty le of th is p ro se poem mimics th e d a rtin g motion o f a fish
fe rtiliz in g eg g s in shallow w ater; th e choppiness and sim plicity of th e
170
su b je c t-v e rb -o b je c t c o n stru c tio n s a re w ell-su ited to th e single-m indedness
(o r n o -m indedness) of a c e n tra l fig u re given o v e r com pletely to th e in
stin c t of s u rv iv a l. Yet some am phibian u r g e , w hich is n e ith e r a fu nction
of mind n o r of in stin c t (" n e ith e r su n n o r m oon"), ris e s w ithin him , and
he eyes th e land slowly em erging "inch b y in c h , out of th e tu rn in g
w aters" (M, p . 21).
T he evolution of th e mammal out of fish is tre a te d in th e fo u rth poem.
For th e firs t tim e, som ething o th e r th a n orgasm and conception is p re s e n t
as a moment when mind and body join: b ir th . , T he sty le h as an uncanny
resem blance to illu stra te d n a tu re le c tu re s , o r to th e captions u n d e r p ic
tu re s in th e N ational G eo g rap h ic: "T he mammal is w ith h e r y o u n g . She
is u n iq u e . / Millions o f y e a rs ago mixed h a b its gave / T h at c ris p p e r
fected o u tlin e , w ebs, f u r , beak" (M, p . 22). It is an u n ex p ected speaking
voice, th o u g h it re p e a ts th e e a rlie r m otif of se p ara tio n and union:
T he d u ck -b illed p la ty p u s lies in rip e n e ss till
T he line of h e r belly b re a k s in to a d ew .
T he brow n fu r oozes milk fo r th e y o u n g one. He,
H atched into se p a ra tio n , b eak s h is fill.
If you could see th ro u g h d a rk n e ss you could see
One b re a k in g outline th a t in clu d es th e tw o. (M, p . 22)
T he final poem en d s th e evo lu tio n ary chain on a d iffe re n t n o te. T he
act of love joins th e se p a ra te halves of se lf (th e rhym e schem e, abocba3
p arallelin g th e moment of jo in in g ), th e se p a ra te selves of lo v e rs :
R u th le ssly g e n tle, g en tly ru th le s s we move
As if th ro u g h w ater with delay in g lim b.
We circle clasp in g ro u n d an unm arked c e n te r
G radually closing i n , u n til we e n te r
T he haze to g e th e r--w h ic h is me, which him?
Selves floating in th e one flesh we a re o f. (M, p . 22)
171
While a g re a t m any in te re s tin g th in g s go on in th e se poem s, th e point
of immediate concern is th e ro g u e ’s g allery of sp e a k e rs draw n from Gunn's
o th e r se lv e s, sp e a k e rs who re le a se him from th e c o n stra in ts of th e rational
side of his n a tu re and p ro v id e him w ith th e e n tre e to h id d en rooms of his
su b co n scio u s. For some time G unn had been co n cern ed w ith th e need to
escape from p o e try w ith rea d ily identifiable a u th o rial a s s e rtio n s , fo r ways
to w rite "lum inous d isc o u rse / tellin g about / b e g in n in g s," as he say s in
32
"W restling," a poem d ed icated to R obert D uncan. In an early poem b y
G unn, even one w hich u se d th e device of a dram atized sp e a k e r, th e voice
is not v e ry much d iffe re n t from th e voice of th e poet him self. T ak e, for
exam ple, th e final sta n za o f "M erlin in th e C ave: He S peculates W ithout
a B ook":
Knowing th e end to movement I will sh rin k
From movement not for its own wilful sa k e .
--How can a man liv e, and not act or th in k ’
W ithout an end? B ut I m ust a c t,, and make
T he m eaning in each movement th a t I ta k e .
R ook, b e e , you a re th e whole and not a p a r t.
T his is an e n d , and y e t a n o th e r s ta r t. (TSOM, p . 58)
T his is a voice th a t knew th e answ er b efore it ask ed th e q u e stio n , th e
voice not of in n o cen ce, b u t of e x p erien c e; it does not q u estio n so much as
comment on e x iste n c e . It is th e voice of th e " e x iste n tia list c o n q u e ro r,
ex cited and a g g re s s iv e ," e stab lish ed b y re le n tle ss re g u la rity of rhym e and
rh y th m , which su b ju g a te s and re n d e rs lifeless th e v e ry th in g s it w ishes
to b rin g to life.
"A sn iff of th e re a l, th a t's / what I'd w ant to get / how it fe lt,"
G unn w rites in a poem called "A utobiography" (JS C , p . 61). In o rd e r to
achieve th is , Gunn felt it was n e c e ssa ry to move away from th e s trid e n t
172
tone of his early w o rk s, even if it m eant abandoning a recognizable poetic
voice of h is ow n. As early as 1968 G unn had com plained "Now adays th e
jo u rn alistic critic a l cliche about a y o u n g e r poet is to say th a t 'h e has
found h is own v o ic e ,' th e em phasis b ein g on th e fact th a t he sounds like
33
nobody e ls e ." In a more re c e n t e s s a y , he rem ark s:
I have n e v e r felt easy about th e k in d of s tre s s im plied. D istin c
tiv e n e ss can look a fte r its e lf, what I want is th e k in d of voice
th a t can sp eak about a n y th in g at all, th a t can deal w ith th e p e r
ceptions and co n cern s as th e y come u p . . . . It is not an an o n y
mous voice, b u t I hope th a t when you h e a r it you will be inclined
to liste n to what it is say in g b efo re you s ta r t n o ticin g its m an
n erism s.
T h is is th e so rt of voice th a t goes h an d in hand w ith th e fre e rh y th m s
G unn p ra ise d in th e p o e try w ritten b y G ary S n y d e r, rh y th m s " a t one
35
w ith th e p e rc e p tio n s, n e ith e r th e ir s e rv a n ts n o r th e ir m a s te rs." And
even when su ch a voice is u se d in poems of a more form al s o r t, p o e try
whose su b ject m atter is th o u g h t-o u t, su ch as th o se of Thom as H a rd y , it
is "im personal, esse n tia lly n o n -co n fessio n al. It is co n cern ed w ith its
su b ject to th e e x te n t of ex clu d in g th e sp e a k e r's p e rso n a lity , even when
his emotion is th e su b ject of th e poem (a s it o ften is ) - - f o r he sees his
36
emotion as one w hich anybo dy in his situ atio n would be able to fe e l."
T his is a view re ite ra te d in G u n n 's poem "E x p ressio n "; re a d in g th e "v e ry
poetic p o etry " of h is ju n io rs , the poet n o tes: "T h ey w rite w ith black iro n y
/ of b reak d o w n , m ental in s titu tio n , / and suicide attem p t, of w hich th e
37
ex p erien ce / does not alw ays seem f ir s t- h a n d ." L a te r, at an a r t museum,
he gazes a p p ro v in g ly a t "An 'e a rly Italian a lta r p ie c e " ':
T he sig h t q u e n c h e s, like w ater
a fte r too much b irth d a y cak e.
173
Solidly th e r e , m other and child
sta re o u tw a rd , two p a irs of m atching eyes
void of e x p re ssio n .
G unn’s ability to re n d e r an ex p erien ce w hich seem s firs t-h a n d , and
to e stab lish a re a lity "solidly th e r e ," is ev id en t in "T he B ath H ouse,"
firs t p u b lish ed in 1974. T he poem rev e als as well th e "m ature" h an d lin g
of his life-lo n g p ro c c u p a tio n --th e notion of a divided self; in th is poem,
as in so m any o th e rs , se p ara tio n an d reu n io n is a major m otif.
T he b eg in n in g of th e poem e sta b lish e s th e conditions of a d ecad en t
su rfa c e re a lity and th e w avering id e n tity of th e s p e a k e r, an d it also p r e
p a re s th e way fo r change b y m eans of h o v e rin g am biguities:
N ight
heat
th e hot b a th , b a re ly e n d u ra b le ,
clo ser th a n th a t ra n k su lp h u ro u s smell
a sh a rp -sw e e t d riftin g fume of dope.
Down from h a lf-lu c e n t roofing m oonrays slope
(b y th e p lastic filte re d g reen )
to can d leflick er below .
W ater brim s at my chin
b re a th coming slow
All ro u n d me faces bob old m en, p u b e sce n t g irls
sw eat rolls down fo reh ead s from wet c u rls
bodies locked soft in tra n c e o f h e at not say in g much
ey es em pty
O th e r se n se s b re a k in g down to touch
to u ch of skin of hot w ater on th e skin
I g ra sp my mind
squeeze open
to u ch w ithin
A nd grope
it is hazy su d d en ly
it is s tra n g e
lab o u rin g th ro u g h u n e asy change
w h eth er tow ard e c sta sy o r panic
wish I knew
no lo n g er know for c e rta in who is who
174
Am I su p p o sed to recognize
th o se b e a rd e d boys o r h e r , w ith dream ing eyes
38
T hough th e smell of dope and th e b o b b in g faces of old men and p u
b esce n t g irls e sta b lish a contem porary s e ttin g , m any of th e details in th is
firs t section a re c o n siste n t w ith a Mesozoic lan d scap e seen th ro u g h th e
eyes of a b ro n to sa u ru s on a m uggy d a y . For exam ple, "O th er sen ses
b re a k in g down to to u c h ” is sk ilfu lly c o n sisten t w ith b o th n arco tic s y n e s
th e sia and se n so ry devolution tow ard th e e a t-it-o r-ru n -fro m -it level of
su rv iv a l re sp o n se . D etails su ch as th is make th e tra n sitio n to prim ordial
b o g s, in th e second section of th e poem, accep tab le:
Not c e rta in
who I am o r w here
w eight of a d a rk e r e a rlie r air
th e body heavily b u oyant
sh e ath e d b y h eat
h a rd , alm ost, w ith it
U pw ard, from my feet
I feel rise in me a new k in d of blood
T he w ater ro u n d me th ic k en s to hot mud
S unk in it
p a ssiv e plated slow
s tre tc h in g my coils
And still I grow
and b a re ly move in y e a rs I am so g rea t
I e x ist I h a rd ly can be said to wait '
Till w aking one n ig h t I look up to see
new gods a re sh in in g o v e r me
What flu n g O rio n 's b elt a cro ss th e sk y ?
I lived th e age of rep tile s-o u t
. and I
T he actu al tra n sitio n to th e s u rre a l ju x tap o sitio n of hum an foetal
grow th an d rep tilia n evolution th a t tak e s place in th e second u n it of th e
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poem b eg in s e a rlie r in th e f ir s t, in line 23 ("lab o u rin g th ro u g h u n e asy
c h a n g e " ). T he penultim ate line of th e second u n it ("I lived th e age of
re p tile s o u t") sum s up th e p arallel lines o f b o th ontogeny and phylogeny
th a t c o n stitu te th e double spine of th is u n it. An in te re s tin g asp ec t of th e
poem at th is point is th e way in which th e re a d e r resp o n d s to d etails which
seem a t fir s t glance to fit th e a ctu alities of only one c o n te x t. For exam ple,
in th e lines "I look up to see / new gods a re sh in in g o v e r m e," th e image
seem s in itially to re fe r only to ste lla r ch an g es d u rin g th e Mesozoic e ra ,
b u t on re fle c tio n , new g o d s, in a m etaphorical se n se , also a tte n d th e
hum an fo etu s as it evolves from re p tilia n to mammalian form and b eg in s its
enlargem ent of b ra in . Sim ilarly, th e re is an am biguity of re fe re n c e in th e
way th e lin es a re d iv id ed : "p assiv e p lated slow" may r e fe r to
"w a te r," o r "m ud," o r even to th e "I" of th e poem; " s tre tc h in g my coils
on coils" may be a p a rticip le re fe rrin g to th e s p e a k e r, or th e action of
th e m u d /w ater upon him.
T he th ird u n it continues th e ex p lo ratio n of o th e r realities w ithin and
re c a p itu la te s th e fo etu s' mammalian life in th e womb:
lig h te n , dim inish
in th e d rea m , halfdream
h a lfd re am , rea lity
of flick erin g stream
b e n ea th mud
b ra n c h in g
b ra n c h in g stream s ru n th ro u g h
th ro u g h me
th e mud b re a th e s
b re a th e s me too
and bobbing in th e womb, all ro u n d me M other
I am p a rt of all th e re is no o th e r
I e x ten d into
h e r mind h e r m ountainous knees
176
re d meadows sa lty seas
b ird b o n e and p u lp , unnam ed, u n b o rn
I live
At th is point in th e poem , o v erto n es of su ch im ages as ’’b ran c h in g
stream s ru n th ro u g h / th ro u g h me / th e mud b re a th e s / b re a th e s me too"
and th a t of th e "m ountainous knees" begin to link w ith o v erto n es from th e
p rev io u s u n its su c h as "U pw ard, from my feet / I feel rise in me a new
kind of b lo o d ." By th e time th e re a d e r reach es "I am p a rt of a ll," he
becom es aw are th a t th e poet is rea ch in g back fo r an "eye" v an tag e point
not only from evolving animal life , b u t p lan t life and th e m ineral world as
well. T he poet feels h is id e n tity with all of e a rth a s, guided b y his s u b
conscious, he moves up th e lad d e r of tim e.
T he fo u rth u n it b eg in s with hum an b irth --s e v e ra n c e from th e womb
39
and n a tu re . T he s p e a k e r, p o ssessin g m ind, is " fu g itiv e ," " s e p a r a te /
and b o rn in flig h t from th e w o rld ." S eeking escape from th e m alevolence
which seems to su rro u n d him , he re tu r n s to w ater ("rem in d in g me of some
w here I have b e e n " ), echoing b aptism , a r e tu r n to th e w aters of the womb,
and th e re tu r n of mammals to th e ocean, while at th e same time p re p a rin g
th e way for a r e tu r n to " re a lity ," in th e fifth u n it, b y re d ire c tin g attention
to th e w aters of th e b a th :
I dive in
sink b en eath
w aters hid in
cool se c u rity
I cannot b re a th e
I b u r s t for oxygen
shoot u p w a rd , th e n
b re a k th ro u g h
177
a n o th e r su rfa c e
w here I meet
• • • • • • « • * •
dream ers
th e faces b o b b in g ro u n d me on th e heat
g reen m oonlight, smell of dope
th e sh in in g arm s and eyes
sta rin g w ithout s u rp ris e
In th e rem ainder of th e fifth u n it, no sooner does he em erge from th e
w aters of h is dream ("loosed so q uickly from it I am fre e ") th a n he
en c o u n te rs a su rro g a te Adam and Eve ("p u b esce n t g irl and b e a rd e d boy
close in " ) , and even as he is " tra p p e d " b y his dual n a tu re , e x p erien ces
a flash of in sig h t:
I b ra c e m yself lig h t s tro n g and clear
and u n d e rs ta n d why I came h e re
e n te rin g th e ir p u rp o se as th e y e n te r mine
I am p a rt o f all
h a n d s tak e
h a n d s te a r and tw ine
I yielded
oh , th e yield
what have I slep t?
my blood is y o u rs th e h a n d s th a t tak e accept
to rn from th e self
in which I b re a th e d and tro d
I am
I am raw meat
I am a god
T he poem en d s on th e prom ise of a re e n a c te d q u e s t; once again th e poet
will u n d e rta k e tria l and r e b ir th , draw n dow nw ard b y th e anim al, upw ard
178
b y th e god, w ithin.
All of th e fo u r poems in "T he G e y se rs," of which "T he B ath House"
is th e la s t, deal w ith th e escape from individual co n scio u sn ess, and th e
se a rc h for a lte rn a te ways of know ing. In ste a d o f th e a g g re ssiv e creatio n
of m eaning th a t filled th e early poem s, h e re G unn, b y im m ersion'in th e
b a th s and b y th e " trip " back w ard s in time and sp a ce , ap p ro ach es an alter
n ate mode of p e rc e p tio n --h e p u rg e s him self of all a sp ects of normal response
to ex p erien ce ("se n se s b re a k in g d o w n "), p a rtic u la rly th o se of reaso n ("no
lo n g er know for c e rta in who is who” ; "not c e rta in / who I am o r w here")
in o rd e r to a cq u ire tru e know ledge.
T his a lte rn a te approach to re a lity re p re s e n ts not only a dram atic
change from G unn's e a rly , M ovem ent, p o e try (in which th e re is so much
em phasis on reaso n and th e p o e t's obligation to a ratio n al re sp o n se to
e x p e rie n c e ), b u t re p re s e n ts as well th e major d ifferen ce betw een G unn's
m ature p o e try and th a t of D avie and L a rk in . For all th e su rfa c e frag m en
tatio n of th o u g h t and form , "T he B ath House" d iffe rs in k in d from th e
m ature p o e try of th e se o th e r two p o ets only in its ap p ro ach to th e se arc h
for know ledge. In o th e r a re a s he re ta in s common lin k s with them .
For exam ple, G unn, like D avie and L a rk in , n e v e r com pletely abandons
tra d itio n a l sy n ta x ; he may speak of his ad ap tatio n of William C arlos
Williams' tria d ic lin e , b u t he u se s sp a c in g , in d e n tin g , and d ro p p in g not
only to in d icate th e h e sita n t "g ro p in g " of th o u g h t, b u t for p u n ctu atio n as
40
well. C apitalization is a n o th e r k ey to sy n ta c tic a l u n its in th e poem.
F u r th e r , th e en d s of lines are u n d e rsc o re d as su ch b y th e u se of rhym e:
th o u g h th e rhym es may v a ry from full to sla n t, and even be divided by
th e ellipses w hich m ark th e se p ara tio n of u n its w ithin th e poem , "T he Bath
179
H ouse” is in co u p lets (an d a formal device, u su ally associated with heroic
couplet poem s--a trip le t--m a rk s th e tu rn in g point of th e e n tire se q u en c e,
th e b eg in n in g of th e r e tu r n to re a lity in th e fo u rth u n it of th e p oem ).
Rhyme places em phasis on sem antic as well as sound sim ilarities (an d
n o th in g could be fu r th e r from Williams' objective: to make w ords, and
th in g s , sta n d out as se p a ra te and u n iq u e ). It is possible th a t because
G unn is seek in g sy n th e sis r a th e r th a n se p a ra te n e ss, rhym e is a p p ro p ri
ate in "T he B ath H o u se.” Rhyme can induce in th e re a d e r a sta te not
unlike th a t re p re s e n te d in th e poem --a q u a si-h y p n o sis which lifts th e
re a d e r out of concern for daily and irre le v a n t problem s to focus resp o n se
on th e poetic ex p erien ce at h a n d --a n d th u s-su b c o n sc io u sly rein fo rce a
sen se of common hum anity b y rem inding th e re a d e r of th e prim itive p a st
in which life conform ed to trib a l p a tte rn s of communal work and c e le b ra
tio n . T he ris k of su ch a tech n iq u e is th a t G unn leaves him self open to
th e accusation th a t th e e x te rn a l form d ictate d much o f th e c o n te n t.
T hough th e re a re some v ital relatio n sh ip s of m eaning en g en d e re d b y th e
lin k in g of w ords in rhym e, too often no point is made b y th e u se of end
rhym e th a t is not a lre ad y fully made oth erw ise.
T his is a fau lt th a t in tru d e s into many of th e poems G unn w rites today,
especially th o se poems in trad itio n a l form s. T ypical is "T he V ictim ,” in
which a "dead p u n k lad y with th e k n ack / O f looking fierce in p in s and
black" is m u rd ered b y a rock s ta r:
Now it was w ith sh a rp th in g s he p lay ed :
N eedles and y o u , not w ith th e b a n d ,
Till som ething g re a te r th a n you planned
O pened e re c t w ithin his h a n d .
180
You sm iled. He p u sh e d it th ro u g h y o u r s h irt
Deep in y o u r b e lly , w here it h u r t. ^
You tu rn e d , and ate th e c a rp e t's d irt.
Not only is th e rep e titio n of sound in th e trip le ts fa tig u in g , b u t it p ro
duces an u n in te n d e d comic e ffe c t; th o u g h G unn su re ly does not in ten d
th e k n ifin g to be hum ourous, th e exigencies of rhym e and rhythm provoke
a guffaw , how ever in a p p ro p ria te .
T hough a ttra c te d to fre e v e rs e because he feels it in v ite s "a d iffe re n t
sty le o f e x p erien c e, im p ro v isatio n ," G unn has n e v e r b een su re th a t such
p o e try can escape th e d a n g e rs of b ein g "too re la x e d , too lack in g in con
tro llin g e n e rg y ," a conviction w hich accounts not only for th e u se of
rhym e in his syllabic and (o th erw ise) free v e rs e , b u t also for h is choice
of s tric te r form s for poems which deal with his experim ents with d ru g s ,
in o rd e r to p re v e n t th e ex p erien ce from u n ra v e lin g "like fog b efo re wind
42
in th e u n p rem ed itated movement of free v e rs e ." T h is ten sio n betw een
his passion for definition and h is passion for flow co n tin u es to inform his
w ork, and lies beh in d h is h a b it of w ritin g firs t in o n e, th e n in th e o th e r
m a n n e r.
C iting D onne's poetic experim ents as "one unm istakable m ark of his
u n sa tisfie d q u e st for c e rta in ty ," F . O. M atthiessen a rg u e s th a t "th e
value of any experim ent in a rt lies in th e len g th to which it is c a rrie d ,
w h eth er it is m erely th e b y -p ro d u c t of e rra tic o r u n d iscip lin ed fan cy , or
43
w h eth er it h as b u ilt up into a com pleted m asterw o rk ." G unn's prosodic
a d v e n tu re s have been n e ith e r u n d isc ip lin ed , n o r th e b y -p ro d u c t of fan cy ;
it seem s likely th a t he will continue to p u rsu e them as he does th e d elib
e ra te ly am bigious "m atter" of a re c e n t poem, "T he C o n v ersatio n ":
181
p in p o in tin g , id en tify in g
th e p u lse of th e m atter
to sh ap e from
th a t flick erin g life
both w hat is
and w hat m ight be
n e v e r p e rfe c tly defined
n e v e r p e rfe c t m atter
because th e w ords a re
flu e n t, are fluid
re p la c e d , d isp laced ,
o v erlap p in g like
c u rre n ts of flame o r w ater
sto p p ed at la st only
b y e x h au stio n o r ^
a rb itra ry in te rru p tio n
In th is m odern v e rsio n of a m etaphysical conceit, G unn com bines th e b e st
asp e c ts of both formal and free v e rs e , in d icatin g th e d irectio n from which
m ight come his own m asterw ork.
182
N otes to C h a p te r V
1 Thom G unn, "Thom Gunn W rites. . P o e try Book Society B ulletin,
6 8 (S p rin g 1971), n . p a g .
2
G unn, "To Y vor W inters, 1955," T he S ense of Movement (London:
F aber and F a b e r, 1957), p . 45. All su b se q u e n t re fe re n c e s to poems in
th is collection will be from th is edition and in d icated p a re n th etica lly within
th e te x t, u sin g th e ab b rev iatio n TSOM.
3
G unn, "My Life Up To Now," in Thom G unn: A B ib lio g ra p h y , ed .
Jack W. C. H agstrom and G eorge B ixby (L ondon: B ertram R ota, 1979),
p . 24.
4 G unn, "My L ife ,” p . 14.
5 ‘
Alan B old, Thom G unn and T ed H ughes (New Y ork: H arp er and
Row, 1976), p . 25.
® John M ander, "T he P o etry of Thom G u n n ," in his T he W riter and
Commitment (L ondon: S eek er and W arburg, 1961), p . 161. See also
D odsw orth, "Thom G unn: P o e try as Action and S ubm ission," in his
The S u rv iv al of P o e try , p . 195: "In th e early w orks of any p o e t, of
c o u rse , one e x p e c ts an elem ent of im itation, b u t n o t, I th in k , to th e
e x te n t to which it is p re s e n t in F ig h tin g T erm s and The Sense of Movement."
7
A. Norman J e ffa re s , "S ketch for an E x ten siv e V iew ," London
M agazine, 6 , No. 11 (1959), p . 35.
8
Roy F u lle r, "B etw een G e n era tio n s," London M agazine, 6 , No. 11
(1959), p . 20.
9
T hw aite, C ontem porary E nglish P o e try , p . 156.
Powell, "Thom G unn: A P ie rg la ss for P o e ts," C a rp e n te rs of L ig h t,
p . 46.
K ing, "T he P o e try of Thom G u n n ," Nine C ontem porary P o ets, p .
103.
12
Clive Wilmer, "D efinition and Flow: A P erso n al R eading of Thom
G u n n ," PN R eview , 5, No. 3 (1978), p . 52.
G unn, "B eat B ig D a d d y ," T he S p e c ta to r, 13 F e b ru a ry 1959, p . 234.
A m onth la te r Gunn em phasized again th e id ea of c ra ft: "learn in g th e
ru le s was a m atter of c o u rse for any poet w riting in E nglish betw een
183
C haucer and Pounds To w rite p o e try w ithout know ing, for exam ple, about
th e p ro p e r u se of ru n o v e rs u se d to be co n sid ered as im pertinent as it
would be now to apply fo r a job as a tr u c k - d r iv e r w ithout know ing how
to sh ift g e a r. It is tru e th a t b ein g able to sh ift g ears does not mean th a t
one can d riv e s tra ig h t o r th a t one has th e n e c e ssa ry stam ina to keep th e
job, b u t it is a p re re q u is ite ." "Am erican E xam ples," T he S p e c ta to r, 27
M arch 1959, p . 443.
14
G unn, "S tatem en t," P e r/S e [S ta n fo rd , C a.] , 3, No. 3 (1968), p.. 40.
^ .G u n n , "S tatem en t," p . 40.
16
G unn, "Thom G unn on Thom G u n n ," Book News (L ondon: F a r r a r ,
S tra u s and G iroux, 1972), n . p ag .
17
G unn, "H ardy and th e B allad s," A genda, 10, Nos. 2 & 3 (1972),
p . 34.
18
G unn, "L ights Among R edw ood" (L ondon, 1961; r p t . New Y ork:
F a r r a r , S tra u s and G iroux, 1973),. Moly and My Sad C a p ta in s, p . 8 6 .
All su b se q u e n t re fe re n c e s to poems in My Sad C aptains a re from th is
edition an d will be in d icated p a re n th etica lly w ithin th e te x t, u sin g th e
ab b rev iatio n MSC; su b se q u e n t re fe re n c e s to Moly by M.
19
G unn, [answ er to q u estio n n aire] A g e n d a , 10/11, N os. 4/1 (1972-73),
p . 23.
20
u G unn, "My L ife," p . 19.
21
G unn, "My L ife," p . 19.
22
G unn, [q u estio n n aire] A g en d a, p p . 23-24. L aw rences's a sse rtio n
th a t "fre e v e rs e does not have th e same n a tu re as re s tric te d v e rse " is
found in th e P reface to th e Am erican edition of his New Poems (1918) . In
th a t e ssa y , Law rence a rg u e s th a t th e re a re two k in d s of p o e try . T he
firs t is "th e p o e try of th e b eg in n in g and th e p o e try of th e e n d ," p o e try
which "is of th e n a tu re of all th a t is com plete and consum m ate," an d th e
com pleteness, finality and p erfectio n of su c h p o e try is "conveyed in e x
q u isite form ." T he second, "th e p o e try of th a t which is at h a n d : th e
immediate p r e s e n t," is one in which " th e re is no p e rfe c tio n , no consum
m ation, n o th in g fin ish ed . . . . T his is th e u n re s tfu l, u n g ra sp a b le p o e try
of th e sh e e r p re s e n t, p o e try whose v e ry perm anency lies in its w ind-like
tr a n s it. W hitman's is th e b e s t p o e try of th is k in d . W ithout b eg in n in g and
w ithout e n d , w ithout any b ase and pedim ent, it sw eeps p a st fo re v e r, like
a wind th a t is fo re v e r in p a ssa g e , and u n ch ain ab le. T he u tte ra n c e is like
a spasm , naked contact w ith all influences a t once. It does not w ant to
get an y w h ere. It ju st tak e s place" (p p . i - i x ) .
23
Gunn and A n d er G unn, P ositives (C hicago: U n iv ersity of Chicago
P re s s , 1966), p . 20. All su b seq u e n t re fe re n c e s to poems in th is collection
will be in d icated p a re n th e tic a lly w ithin th e te x ts , u sin g th e ab b rev iatio n P.
184
24
G unn, "My L ife," p . 21.
OK
G unn, "In N obody's P a n th e o n ," S h en an d o ah , 13, No. 2 (1962),
p . 34.
^ G unn, "William C arlos W illiams," E n co u n ter, 25, No. 1 (1966), p p .
71-74.
27
William C arlos Williams, "To a Poor Old Woman," S elected Poems
(New Y ork: Jam es L au g h lin , 1968), p . 67.
28
G unn, "In th e T a n k ," T ouch (C hicago: U n iv ersity o f Chicago
P re s s , 1967), p . 52. S u b seq u en t re fe re n c e s to poems in th is collection
will be in d icated p a re n th e tic a lly w ithin th e te x t, u sin g th e a b b rev iatio n T.
29
G unn, "T he R o o fto p s," T he L is te n e r, 7 S eptem ber 1967, p . 310.
30
"Much pow er in each , most to th e balanced tw o," as he says
e a rlie r in "To Y vor W inters, 1955," d iscu ssed e a rlie r.
31
T his is stro n g ly rem iniscent of D . H. L aw rence's poem "F ish ":
"Y our life a sluice of sensation along y o u r sid e s. . . . B orn b efore God
was love, / O r life knew lo v in g ." T he Complete Poems (New Y ork:
P en g u in B ooks, 1977), p p . 334-340.
32
G unn, "W restling," in h is Jack S tra w 's C astle and O th e r Poems
(New Y ork: F a rra r , S tra u s and G iroux, 1976), p . 41. All su b seq u e n t
re fe re n c e s to poems in th is collection will be in d icated p a re n th e tic a lly
w ithin th e te x t b y th e ab b rev iatio n JS C .
33
G u n n , e d ., In tro d u ctio n to Selected Poems of Fulke G reville
(C hicago: U n iv eristy o f Chicago P re s s , 1968), p p . 19-20.
34
G unn, "Thom G unn W rites. . .," P o etry Book Society B u lle tin ,
No. 90 (A utum n 1976), n . p a g .
35
G unn, R ev. of A R ange of Poem s, b y G ary S n y d e r, A genda, 4,
N os. 3 & 4 (1966) , p . 41.
O P
G unn, "H ardy and th e B a llad s," p . 42.
37
G u n n , "E x p re ssio n ," T he O xford Book of C ontem porary V e rs e , ed .
D . J . E n rig h t (O xford: O xford U n iv ersity P re s s , 1980), p . 216. B efore
rea d in g th is poem at th e P o e try Society in London on 15 Novem ber 1979,
G unn rem arked: " Ju s t as Shelley and th e 'rom ance of d e a th ’ influenced
n in e te e n th c e n tu ry p o e tr y , th e m yth of Sylvia P lath seems to be influencing
th is g en eratio n of p o e ts, not n e ce ssa rily for th e good."
38
G unn, "T he B ath H ouse," in his To th e Air (B oston: D avid R.
G odine, 1974, p p . 19-20. All su b se q u e n t re fe re n c e s to th is poem will be
in d icated p a re n th etica lly w ithin th e te x t.
185
39
B oth th is u n it, and th e one p re c e d in g i t, tre a t topics sim ilar to
th o se in ”T om -D obbin"; th e lines "I feel rise in me a new k in d of blood"
and "w aking one n ig h t I look up to see / new gods" are rem iniscent of
th e e a rlie r "And la te r som ething in him ris e s . . . . It d isco v ers d a rk ,
sh in in g ta b le s of rock th a t r is e , in ch b y in c h , out of th e tu rn in g w aters"
(M, p . 21). A lso, th e youn g p la ty p u s is "h atch ed into sep aratio n " (M,
p . 2 2 ) in m uch th e same m anner as th e sp e a k e r in th is fo u rth u n it.
40
For a d iscu ssio n of th e way w ords are laid out in Williams’ poem s,
em phasizing "th e pow er of w ords re a c h in g out tow ards o th e r w ords which
a re for th e moment a b s e n t," see J . Hillis M iller, Poets of R eality (Cam
b rid g e : H arv ard U n iv ersity P re s s , 1965), p p . 300 ff.
41
G unn, "T he V ictim ," I n q u ir y , 8 D ecem ber 1980, p . 29.
49
G unn, "My L ife," p . 22.
43
F . O. M atthiessen, T he A chievem ent of T . S. Eliot (New Y ork:
O xford U n iv ersity P re s s , 1958), p . 135.
44
G unn, "T he C o n v e rsatio n ," in h is Games of C hance (Om aha:
U n iv ersity of N ebraska P re s s , 1979), p p . 19-20.
186
V I. Movement Influences
T he Movement is of in te re s t in num erous w ays: as a s ta rtin g point
fo r d iscu ssio n of th e developm ent of its poets along d ifferin g lin es; as a
h isto ry of one of th e m any lite ra ry skirm ishes th a t have been a p a rt of
E nglish le tte rs for se v era l c e n tu rie s ; as a reflectio n o f th e tim es out of
which it em erged. B ut it is also of in te r e s t, and p e rh a p s of most im por
ta n c e , when view ed in th e co n tex t of its influence on E nglish poetic
p ra c tic e .
In 1961, com m enting on th e influence of th e Movement on contemporary
poetic p ra c tic e s in G reat B rita in , Allan Rod way w rote:
Long ago R obert F ro st rem arked of free v e rs e , ’ ’Well, I like to
play my te n n is with a n e t." What is rem arkable about th e present-
day E nglish scene is th a t p ractically e v e ry p o e t, no m atter how
"fa r o u t," seems to a g re e --a t any ra te by th e evidence of his
p ra c tic e . Since th is is th e effect of a com paratively small group
whose id eas a re d e te ste d by many of th e p o ets technically in flu -^
en ce d , th e re seem s good reaso n to exam ine it before it disappears.
B ut in stea d of d isa p p e a rin g , th e effect of Movement a ttitu d e s tow ard
poetic experim entation solidified, becom ing so widely accepted th a t Ju lian
Sym ons, review ing New L ines II in 1963, o b se rv e d :
New Lines II is not likely to be met w ith th e abuse which g ree ted
its p re d e c e ss o r, becau se so much of w hat th o se nine poets w ere
try in g to do w ith poetic la n g u a g e --to make it more co n crete , less
'p o e tic ,' more closely rela te d to su b ject m atter th a t was common
g ro u n d for most hum an b e in g s --is now tak en as a m atter of course
b y re a d e rs of p o e try . . . . When one is ask ed w hat change in
p o e try has been effected b y New Lines o r th ro u g h th e p o ets who
have c o n trib u te d to i t , th e answ er seems to me c ertain ly that th e y
have changed th e language in which it is possible to iw rite p o e try .
187
.. .T he c h a ra c te ristic v e rs e of today is low -toned, d is tru s tfu l of
extrem es a n d , it seems som etim es, of any so rt of belief.
T h is view was confirm ed by a rev iew er in th e Times L ite ra ry S u p p le m e n t;
even while com plaining th a t "th e m ajority of th e c o n trib u to rs w rite in a
sty le th a t m akes one th in k of them as m em bers of a kind of poetic common
m a rk e t," he n o ted :
Let it be said w ithout u se less recrim in atio n s, th e n , th a t th e g rea t
m ass of serio u s E nglish p o e try of th e last eight or nine y e a rs has
had a q u ite d istin c tiv e fla v o u r. . . . New Lines 2 co n tain s work
b y eig h t poets from his firs t New Lines anothology in 1956, and
six teen o th e rs . It is an extrem ely in te re s tin g , and g en u in e, s u c
c esso r to th e firs t book, inasm uch as it re fle c ts, ag ain , M r.
C o n q u est's own ta s te --a n d M r. C onquest’s ta s te is p rec ise ly for
th o se q u alities th a t most re c e n t E nglish poets have so u g h t to p u t
into th e ir w o rk .3
In th e In tro d u ctio n to New L ines I I , C onquest a rg u e d th a t even
th o u g h th e "p red ilictio n s and original p a rtisa n sh ip s" of th e poets r e p r e
se n ted w ere for th e "m odernism " of th e 1920s and 1930s, "It is only now,
with th e ad v an tag e p e rh a p s of p e rs p e c tiv e , th a t th e innovations of th a t
time a re seen to be p e rip h e ra l additions to th e main tra d itio n of E nglish
p o e tr y . " ^
C ertainly th e poems found in New Lines II su p p o rt th e e d ito r’s view s.
T he idea of p o e try as c ra ft a p p ea rs in many poem s, from G eorge MacBeth's
"T he V ictorians" ("R ich n ess of w ords, rich stonew ork: b o th arise / From
tr u th to form d e lib erately so u g h t" NL2, p . 85), to L aurence L e rn e r's "To
S chool":
I se n t my Muse to school:
T h ey ta u g h t h e r to walk s tra ig h t,
To b e a r h e r body well,
S can , and a llite ra te .
188
So p e rfe c t was h e r poise
Men tu rn e d to w atch h e r p a ss.
Skin d e ep , some said: th o se a irs
B ut fascin ate th e sig h t;
No tru e d elig h t is h e r s .
I th o u g h t, th e y m ust be rig h t.
She p lay s a flaw less p a rt:
T ru e v e rs e is from th e h e a rt.
B ut when my h e a rt was h u r t,
Too dumb to find re lie f,
She took voice till h e r a rt
Sang th e tru e shape of g rie f.
And th e unschooled who h e a rd
Loathed th e ir own b ro k en w ords. (NL2, p . 108)
Many of th e poems in New L ines II a re ’’Movement" in th e ir rh eto rical
p a tte rn s as well. C o n sid e r, fo r exam ple, th e following:
Rem em brance Day
A pposite blood re d th e blobs
Of artificial poppies count
O ur annual d ead .
T he garm ent of lam ent is worn
T h rea d b are and each medal h an g s
H eavy its sham eful h e ad .
B ugles make th e ir sad assau lt
Upon th e h e a rt and spine and th ro a t
O rd e rin g r e g re t.
T he names evoked are u su al:
P a ssch e n d ae le , Ba.paum e and Loos--
O ur cheeks a re w et.
And fum bling fo r th e rig h t resp o n se
We summon nam es more p erso n al:
N obby, F ran k and T ed .
B ut wormy y e a rs have eaten th e ir
Id e n titie s and none can m ourn
T h ese artificial d ead .
And when a tru e emotion strik e s
It s trik e s a c ru d e , u n san ctio n ed blow
Which b rin g s a h a rs h e r chill
To h e a rts th a t know th a t th e y grow old
189
And m ust grow o ld er y et before
T h at te rrib le U ntil. (NL2, p . 81)
T h is is a Movement poem com plete w ith in d u c tiv e /d e d u c tiv e sequence:
from th e "sc en e ” (th e A rm istice Day ritu a ls) th e poet deduces a p rin cip le
(ritu a l d istan c es man from th e rea lities of d eath ) which is th en applied
and valid ated (a " tr u e ," "u n sa n ctifie d " resp o n se to death is th e rem inder
of o n e's own m o rta lity ). In te re s tin g ly , "Rem em brance Day" is w ritten b y
V ernon S cannell, whose M averick p o e try , d isc u sse d e a rlie r, unfolded b y
q u ite d iffe re n t m ethods.
T h at th e Movement p o e ts , both in th e ir poems and in th e ir c ritic ism ,
had a d efin ite in flu en ce on E nglish poets in th e y e a rs following th e p u b li
cation of New L in e s, seem s obvious. One might almost a rg u e th a t th e y
had an effect n e a rly as w id esp read , if not so s ta rtlin g , as did Eliot and.
Pound on the p o ets of th e 1920s and 1930s--but w ith one major d ifferen ce.
While th e A m ericans Eliot and Pound influenced p o ets on both sides of th e
A tlantic (so much so th a t William C arlos Williams felt th a t Am erican p o e try
h as been "b e tra y e d " into th e h a n d s of th e "enem y") , th e Movement poets
5
influenced only E nglish p o e ts. As E ric H om burger n o te s, d u rin g th e
1960s, a num ber of Am erican poets (in clu d in g Lowell, B erry m an , P la th ,
Williams, O lson and Z ukofsky) w ere p u b lish ed and met with in te re s t in
E n g lan d , b u t th e in te re s t was "v e ry m uch one w ay"; he concludes:
It rem ains tru e th a t no B ritish poet since D ylan Thomas h as made
sig n ifican t im pact on Am erican ta s te . It is also tr u e , and p e rh a p s
is not u n re la te d , th a t th e re is no anthology of contem porary
B ritish p o e try w orth th e name in Am erica today.®
Not only h as th e in te re s t been one-w ay, a r if t, which can be tra c e d back
190
to th e 1950s (and p e rh a p s b ey o n d , if one c a re s to dwell on th e ram ifica
tio n s of Williams’ rem arks on T he Waste L and) , has developed to th e point
th a t m any c ritic s a rg u e today th a t Am erican and E nglish p o e try a p p ear no
lo n g er to be w ritte n , with only minor d ifferen ces of u sa g e , in a common
la n g u a g e .
In an e ssa y ("T he F ailure of a D ialogue") p u b lish ed in 1970 in The
L is te n e r, and re p rin te d la te r as "An A fterw ord for th e Am erican R eader"
to h is Thomas H ardy and B ritish P o e try , Donald D avie a ttrib u te s th is
"post-colonial backlash" to im portant d ifferen ces in to n e, and a rg u e s th a t
"th e Am erican re a d e r can ’t h e a r th e B ritish p o e t, n e ith e r his rh y th m s nor
his tone of voice, and th e B ritish re a d e r only pretends to h e a r th e rh y th m s
7
and th e tone of Am erican p o e try since William C arlos W illiams." T he
re s u ltin g "breakdow n in com m unication," Davie s u g g e s ts , ris e s out of "a
cru cial d ifferen ce betw een th e E nglish an d th e Am erican p o e t" : th e fact
th a t
T he Englishm an su p p o ses he is try in g to o p e ra te in some h ighly
specific h isto rical situ atio n , conditioned b y m anifold contingencies
(h en ce his qu alificatio n s, h is h e sita n c ie s, his damaging concessions),
w hereas th e Am erican p o e t, conditioned since th e Pilgrim F a th e rs
to th in k in uto p ian te rm s, is su re th a t he is e n actin g a dram a of
which th e issues are basically simple and p erm an en t, and will be
seen to be so once we have p e n e tra te d th ro u g h th e ir accid en tal,
h isto rical o v e rla y . ®
In a more re c e n t e ssa y , D avie re ite ra te s :
What I have been su g g e stin g , as th e firs t and perhaps pre-em inent
d ifferen ce betw een th e B ritish an d th e A m erican ex p erien ces of
p o e try at th e p re s e n t d a y , is th is : th a t th e B ritish poet and h is
B ritish re a d e r are conscious of c o n trib u tin g to a venture continuous
since at least G eoffrey C h a u ce r, w hereas th e A m erican poet and
his re a d e rs are likely to th in k th a t th e e n te rp ris e he is en gaged
191
in d a te s b a c k , for practical purposes, no fiarther th a n Emerson . . . .
Secondly (an d th is is no doubt a profound d ifferen ce betw een th e
two c u ltu re s , one th a t shows up in many sp h e re s b esid es p o e try )
th e Am erican ty p ically re g a rd s th e p a st as som ething to be s u r
p a sse d , th e B ritish as som ething to be p re s e rv e d and at b e st
equalled, c e rta in ly not tran scen d ed .®
T h is is an a ttitu d e w hich th e Am erican c ritic , M. L. R o sen th al, has
labeled th e "b u rd e n of trad itio n alism ," u n d e r which th e B ritish poet
la b o rs, ham pered b y th e need only to "make slig h t sh ifts of formal or
idiom atic nuance to gain e ffe cts th a t would seem to re q u ire greater violence
o r in v en tiv en e ss of an A m erican"; hence n u an ces "w ithin a m odest m as
te ry of th e ly ric trad itio n " o r th e "q u iet p erfectio n of a rig h tly m anaged
p o e try of se n sitiv e , w itty o b serv atio n of th e e x te rn a l w orld" are in stan ces
of im portant B ritish poetic v alu es th a t "Americans are likely to overlook.
A gain, it may be a q u estio n of hav in g an "ear" fo r B ritish p o e try , in
somewhat th e same way th a t a lis te n e r m ight or m ight not have an "ear"
for jazz (som ething at lea st fo u r--A m is, C o n q u est, L a rk in , W ain--of th e
Movement poets sh a re ) , w here tu n e s are "rag g ed " b y s u b s titu tin g several
notes for o n e, o r b y sy n co p atio n , or b y placing accen ts in u n ex p ected
p laces; th u s such devices strik e th e lis te n e r as e ith e r b rillian tly inventive
o r im possibly m onotonous. T a k e , for exam ple, th e work of L ark in , whose
u se of rhythm o ften mocks conventional su b ject m a tte r. One c ritic ,
Law rence K ram er, com plains of "D ockery and Son":
S tro n g midline p a u se s , m uted s tro n g s tre s s e s , and p e rs iste n t
enjam bm ent at p o in ts w ere th e sy n ta x o v e rrid e s th e in stin c t to
p a u se , all co n sp ire to b lu r th e m etrical in te g rity of th e v e rs e .
T he poem is in iambic p e n ta m e ter, all r ig h t, b u t it d o e sn 't sound
th a t w ay. . . . It is as if a com poser w rote a piece of music in
one k ey and th e n p a in sta k in g ly w rote it o u t, note for note th ro u g h
a maze of sh a rp s and fla ts , in a n o t h e r .^
192
K ram er views su ch p ra c tic e s as deficiencies; in the same issue of Contemporary
L ite ra tu re , B e rn a rd B ergonzi speaks a p p ro v in g ly of th e effects L arkin
g e ts from "p lay in g th e to n es of th e sp eak in g voice ag ain st his prosodic
and stanzaic s tr u c tu r e s ," and la te r he rem ark s: "I su sp ec t th a t many
Am erican re a d e rs sim ply cannot ’h e a r' L ark in , ju st as many B ritish readers
cannot tu n e into William C arlos Williams and all th e p o e try th a t stem s from
12
him ." K ram er is an Am erican c ritic , B ergonzi B ritish --a g a in , a question
of h av in g an "ear" for L ark in ’s p o etry ?
In 1973, A nthony T hw aite, w ritin g of "T he Two P o e trie s," n o ted :
We seem to have reach ed a sta te of deadlock or separatism in
p o e try w ith , on one sid e , a b elief in th e tra n s p a re n t v irtu e s of
sp o n ta n ie ty , imm ediacy, and e n e rg y rele ased b y both poet and
audience in an in sta n t flash of com m unication; a n d , on th e o th e r ,
a conviction th a t a rt has a good deal to do with s h a p e , fo rm ,
co n tro l, and th a t a good poem sh o u ld n 't rev eal all its facets and
d e p th s and reso n an ces at a single h e a rin g or re a d in g .
T hw aite fea red th a t "th is will cause a serio u s sp lit in o u r lite ra ry culture,"
14
a n d , in d e e d , more re c e n t e v en ts seen to bear out his fea rs. ; In 1980, th e
O xford U n iv ersity P re ss b ro u g h t out T he O xford Book of C ontem porary
V e rse , 1945-1980. T he anthology re fle c ts th e beliefs of th e e d ito r, D. J .
E n rig h t, who w rites: art is "an o rd e rin g of e x p e rie n c e , how ever p recario u s-
seem ing, of in te rn a l and e x te rn a l e v e n ts, w hich e n acts and in te rp re ts
d iso rd e r more firm ly and poignantly th a n a n y th in g else can do, even
15
while containing i t." O f p o e try which is spontaneous (to borrow
T hw aite's c h a ra c te riz a tio n ), E n rig h t a rg u e s:
At its b e s t D. H. L aw rence, who did it b e s t, c h arac terize d th e
g e n re as ’th e p o e try of th a t which is at h a n d ’, 'th e in su rg e n t
naked th ro b of th e in sta n t moment' w here 'th e re is no p e rfe c tio n ,
no consum m ation, n o th in g fin is h e d '. T he g en re can have its
193
su c ee sses--w e should n e v e r fo rg et th a t, as W. H. A uden p u t it,
’P a rn a ssu s h as many m ansions’- -b u t in th e main it is more
accu rately d escrib ed by an o th e r p h ra se lifted from Law rence:
'th e living plasm v ib ra te s u n s p e a k a b ly '. Such w ritin g has been
p raised for b eing g ro p in g and se m i-a rtic u la te , like u s , as though
p o e try is m erely to re p e a t and condone o u r w e ak n e sses. 16
Given such a ttitu d e s on th e p a rt of th e e d ito r, it comes as no g rea t
s u rp ris e to note th a t of th e fo rty poets re p re se n te d in th e anthology,
only eight are A m ericans (B ish o p , B erry m an , H echt, J a rre ll, Lowell,
Nem erov, Sim pson, W ilbur), and fo u r of th e se are d ead . E n rig h t includes
Am erican p o ets "not because I believe th a t contem porary A m erican p o e try
is b ig g e r and b e tte r th a n B ritish (th o u g h it does incline to b e more
ex trem e, at all ex tre m itie s) , b u t because it would have been p ainfully
17
impoverishing and th e re fo re a b su rd to exclude th em ." B ut as T heodore
Weiss p o in ts out in his review of th e anthology, E n rig h t's choice "clearly
p u ts in qu estio n th e opinion th a t Am erican p o e try is only as good," an d ,
f u r th e r , "E n rig h t's volume not only d efen d s contemporary E nglish p o e try
and th e an ti-m o d ern ist aims of th e Movement ag ain st c h a rg e s such as
provincialism , tim idity, b la n d n e ss, it is also polemical th ro u g h its exclu-
.,18
sio n s."
Weiss co n ten d s th a t Movement a ttitu d e s have re su lte d in an im pover
ishm ent of E nglish p o e try , and he in d ic ts b o th L a rk in 's T he O xford Book
of T w entieth C e n tu ry V erse and E n rig h t's more rec en t anthology. N oting
th a t both Y eats's e a rlie r anthology ( T he O xford Book of M odern V e rs e ,
1892-1935) and Lowell's Im itations w ere "fascin atin g p ro d u ctio n s of g re a t,
e x tra v a g a n t g ifts ," Weiss n o tes:
L arkin also b ro u g h t o ff an e x tra o rd in a ry fe a t. T hough he did
re p re s e n t major p o ets like Y eats and E liot, he m anaged b y way of
194
th e tw en tieth c e n tu ry to p ain t a p o rtra it of h im self--th a t is , by
way of p o ets and poems akin to his kind of w orld. One m ust be
awed b y h is an th o lo g y 's p rev ailin g air of triu m p h an t since p ro p e r
su b d u a l. How many re a d e rs lim ited to h is anthology (or Enright's)
would su sp e c t th a t th e c e n tu ry has been one of th e ric h e s t, most
ex citin g , most innovative th a t E nglish p o e try h as know n? 19
L ark in 's anthology was p u b lish ed on both sid es of th e A tlan tic, b u t
E n rig h t's seems to have finally pro v o k ed th e breakdow n of comm unication
fea red b y Thw aite and o th e rs . T he Am erican b o ard of th e O xford U niver
sity P re ss h as re fu se d to b rin g out an Am erican ed itio n .
In Love-H ate R e la tio n s, S tep h en S p en d er w rites th a t Pound and Eliot,
while re s to rin g th e u n d e rs ta n d in g of v e rs e , were te a c h e rs o f o th e r poets
r a th e r th a n ones "whose w ork th e y could, w ithout d isa stro u s effects on
th e ir own w ritin g , im itate," and so E nglish poets ev en tu ally " re tu rn e d to
th e ir tra d itio n , b u t had become able to q u estio n th e w ays in which th ey
20
w ere m aking u se of i t." A sim ilar situ atio n seem s to e x ist in E ngland
to d a y . Movement poets hav e done m uch to re s to re an ap p reciatio n for
th e trad itio n a l form s of E nglish p o e try , m aking it possible fo r E nglish
p o ets to re tu rn to th a t tra d itio n . B ut th e re is some q u estio n as to how
deeply th a t trad itio n is b ein g q u estio n ed b y th o se p o e ts. Movement
p o e try h as been a good s ta rtin g point fo r th e poets involved in th a t
g ro u p in g , b u t it seem s to have g e n erate d ju st as m any m indless disciples
as did m odernism ; th e ir w ork h as also been such th a t y o u n g e r poets c an
n o t, "w ithout d is a s tro u s e ffe cts on th e ir own w ritin g , im itate." One has
only to lea f th ro u g h th e p ag es of th e Times L ite ra ry Supplem ent (o r T he
L is te n e r, o r th e PN R eview ) to find confirm ation of su ch e ffe c ts. T ypical
is S tep h en O ldfield's a p p ro p ria te ly title d poem:
195
A Footnote
Old Sam A rk w rig h t, son of m an, who
clothes th e town in b ig -c ity c a st-o ffs,
once was big in wool: all he knew .
His emotions line up like village to u g h s
and sta lk a world h e ’s em bellished w ith
bold s tro k e s . A m istress k eep s in f u r s ,
and fakes it well to p re s e rv e his m yth
m aking screw s; like all good c a ts she p u r r s
and sc ra tc h e s in equal d o se s. Sam grows
w ith each new p re c in c t, each fine c a r- p a rk ,
o r say s he d o e s: and he alw ays know s
w hat’s b e s t for his little tow n. He’ll walk
for n o th in g behind th e b a n d , his h e a rt
is s tro n g as a fist; b u t he dream s of blood.
One d a y , some sa y , th e y ’ll fetch a c a rt
and p u t th e b u g g e r u n d e r for good.
T he influence of th e Movement (an d L arkin in p a rtic u la r) is obvious
in th is poet: th e s tric t rhym e schem e, th e diction ( ’’big in w ool,’’ ’’p u t
th e b u g g e r u n d e r" ), th e imm ediately qualified ("som e say") concluding
statem en t, th e u se of a sp e a k e r /o b se rv e r u n d iffe re n tia te d from th e p o et.
B ut w ithout th e rig o ro u s rh e to ric a l ju stificatio n ty p ical of Movement poetry
th is poem is triv ia l. If flash in ess is th e danger that adherents of modernism
c o u r t, d ra b n e ss is th e one th a t lies in th e p a th of disciples of th e
M ovem ent.
It would be u n fa ir to place th e blame fo r much of th e p o o rer p o e try
being w ritte n today in E ngland on Movement p o e ts. B ut it is h a rd to
deny th a t th e ir w orks have had a fa r g re a te r influence on contem porary
poetic p ra c tic e s th a n th e y m ight h a v e, h ad th e se poets been w ritin g in
Am erica. As R ich ard C hase n o tes:
B y com parison with Am erica E ngland is an organic and continuous
c u ltu re . What has not been su fficien tly seen is th a t Am erican
c u ltu re shows fa r more e n d u rin g c o n tra d ic tio n s and discontinuities
th a n does E nglish c u ltu re --o r if th is has been seen, its consequences
196
have not y e t been u n d e rsto o d . Am erican civilization, happily
sim ilar to E nglish in many ways and p a rtic u la rly in its political
c h a ra c te r, te n d s , in th e q u ality of its c u ltu ra l m ovem ents, to
resem ble F ren ch and R ussian civilization,, at le a st.in th e sense
th a t it shows v e ry d isp a ra te extrem es of ta s te and opinion. . . .
B ut E nglish c u ltu ra l h isto ry o ffers no such c le a r-c u t p o laritie s.
At c ertain p erio d s of its h isto ry E ngland h ad evolved an admirable
middle c u ltu re , a main body of ta s te and opinion, in to which th e
a v a n t-g a rd e , n e v e r rad ically alienated in th e firs t p lace, could
be tem porarily a b so rb e d , w ithout detrim ent to th e c u ltu ra l life of
th e n a tio n .
It may be th a t Movement p o e try will ev en tu ally be view ed b e st in ju st
su ch a c o n te x t, for it seems h a rd to d isp u te th e idea th a t E nglish p o e try
has once again re v e rte d to its trad itio n a l ro o ts. As a s ta rtin g point for
th e individual p o ets in v o lv ed , th e Movement has been of g re a t v alu e. As
a force for th e adm irable m iddle c u ltu re in to which th e a v a n t-g a rd e in
E ngland h as been tem porarily a b so rb e d , th e Movement has been effectiv e.
W hether o r not th is has been an accom plishm ent th a t is w ithout detrim ent
to th e c u ltu ra l life of th e E nglish nation rem ains a q u estio n which cannot
y et be an sw ered .
197
N otes for C h a p te r VI
1 Allan Rodw ay, "A Note on C ontem porary E nglish P o e tr y ,” T exas
Q u a rte rly , 4, No. 3 (1961), p . 6 6 .
^ Ju lian Sym ons, "Old Lines for N ew ,” T he S p e c ta to r, 16 A ug. 1963,
p . 206.
3
"New Lines o r S id elin es," re v . of New Lines I I , ed . R obert Conquest,
Times L ite ra ry S upplem ent, 6 S e p t. 1963, p . 673.
4
C o n q u est, In tro d . to New Lines II (L ondon: Macmillan, 1963), p .
x x iv . All su b se q u e n t re fe re n c e s to poems in th is anthology will be in d i
cated p a re n th etically w ithin th e te x t , u sin g th e abbreviation NL2.
5
Williams, A utobiography (New Y ork: Random H ouse, 1951), p . 174.
W riting of T he Waste L a n d , Williams rem ark s: "Eliot had tu rn e d h is back
on th e p o ssib ility of re v iv in g my w o rld . And b e in g an accom plished
c ra ftsm a n , b e tte r skilled in some w ays th a n I could e v er hope to b e , I
had to w atch him c a rry my world off with him , th e fool, to th e enem y."
0
E ric H om burger, T he A rt o f.th e R e al, p . 180.
7
D avie, H a rd y , p . 84. B y d ifferen ces in to n e, Davie means not only
differen ces "in th e p o e try its e lf, b u t also in th e ways of talk in g about it,
and p a rtic u la rly in th e p o ets' ways of talk in g about them selves as poets"
(p . 187).
8
D avie, H a rd y , p . 186.
9
D avie, "T he B ritish and th e A m erican E xperiences of P o e try ,"
C um berland P o e try R eview , 1, No. 1 (1981), p p . 3-4.
■^M. L . R osenthal, T he New P o ets: Am erican and B ritish P o e try
Since W W II (New Y ork: O xford U. P r e s s , 1967), p . 223.
Law rence K ram er, "T he Wodwo W atches th e W ater Clock: L anguage
in Postm odern B ritish and Am erican P o e try ," C ontem porary L ite ra tu re ,
18, No. 3 (1977), p p . 321-22.
12
B erg o n zi, "D avie, L ark in , and th e S tate of E n g la n d ," Contemporary
L ite ra tu re , 18, No. 3 (1977), p . 356. B ergonzi in clu d es th e c u ltu ra l
p a rtic u la ritie s o f "a c o n stan t play betw een lin g u istic re g is te rs in a m anner
c h a ra c te ristic of ed u cated b u t d e class6 E nglish speech" when he sp eak s
of elem ents of L ark in 's p o e try which Am erican re a d e rs fail to h e a r.
198
T hw aite, "T he Two P o e trie s," T he L is te n e r, 5 A pril 1973, p . 453.
14
T hw aite, "Two P o e trie s," p . 454.
15
E n rig h t, In tro d u ctio n to T he O xford Book of C ontem porary V e rse ,
1945-1980 (O xford: O xford U n iv ersity P re s s , 1980), p . x x v ii.
16
E n rig h t, In tro d . to C ontem porary V e rs e , p . x x ii.
17
E n rig h t, In tro d . to C ontem porary V e rs e , p . x ix .
18
T heodore W eiss, "P o etry from P o rlo ck ," Times L ite ra ry Supplement,
26 S e p t. 1980, p . 1059.
W eiss, p . 1060.
20
S p e n d e r, L ove-H ate R elations (New Y ork: Random H ouse, 1974),
p . 2 0 0 .
21
S tep h en O ldfield, "A F o o tn o te," Times L ite ra ry S u p p lem en t, 22
Ja n . 1982, p . 90.
22
R ichard C hase, "T he Fate of th e A v a n t-G a rd e ," in L ite ra ry
M odernism , e d . Irv in g Howe (New Y ork: F aw cett, 1967), p p . 147-48.
See also M. L. R osenthal: "T he b e st new B ritish w ork, w ith a few
c h erish ab le ex cep tio n s, involves a q u iet assim ilation of rev o lu tio n ary
ten d en cies" (T he New P o e t s , p . 210).
199
A Selected B ibliography
A bse, D an n y , and Howard S e rg e a n t, e d s . M av erick s. London: P o e try
and P o v e rty , 1957.
A llen, W alter. "London L ite ra ry L e tte r." New Y ork Times Book R eview ,
22 S e p t. 1963, p p . 39-40.
A lvarez, A. "A. A lvarez and Donald D avie: A D iscu ssio n ." T he Review,
No. 1 (1962), p p . 10-25.
Amis, K ingsley. "T he Day of th e M oron." T he S p e c ta to r, 1 O ct. 1954,
p p . 409-409.
--------------- - "F re sh Winds from th e W est." : R ev. of five novels b y West
Indian and Indian authors. T he S p e c ta to r, 2 May 1958, p p . 565-566.
-------- # Man on R ockall." R ev . of P in c h er M artin , b y William
G olding. T he S p e c ta to r, 9 Nov. 1956, p . 656.
--------------- - "T he Poet and th e D ream er." R ev . o f K e a ts, b y Sidney
C olvin. T he S p e c ta to r, 22 N ov. 1957, p p . 699-700.
--------------- - "T he Road to A irstrip O n e." R ev . of A S tu d y of G eorge
O rw ell, b y C h risto p h e r H ollis. T he S p e c ta to r, 31 A ug. 1956, p p .
292-293.
---------------- . .tShe Was a Child and i Was a c h ild ." R ev. of L olita, b y
Vladim ir N abokov. T he S p e c ta to r, 6 N ov. 1959, p p . 431-432.
--------------- - "Thom as th e R hym er." R ev . of A P ro sp ect of th e S e a , b y
D ylan T hom as. T he S p e c ta to r, 12 A ug. 1955, p p . 227-228.
B ed ien t, C alvin. E ight C ontem porary P o e ts . London: O xford U n iv ersity
P re s s , 1974.
B erg o n zi, B e rn a rd . "A fter ’T he M ovem ent.’" T he L iste n e r, 24 A ug.
1961, p p . 284-285.
--------------- - "D avie, L ark in , and th e S tate of E n g la n d ." C ontem porary
L ite ra tu re , 18, No. 3 (1977), p p . 341-360.
B la c k b u rn , Thom as. The P rice of An E y e . London: L ongm ans, G reen
and C o ., 1961.
200
B old, A lan. Thom Gunn and T ed H ughes. New Y ork: H arp er and Row,
1976.
B ro c k e tt, O scar G ., and R o b ert R . F indlay. C e n tu ry of In n o v a tio n .
Englewood C liffs, N. J . : P ren tice-H all, 1973.
C hase, R ich ard . "T he Fate of th e A v a n t-G ard e ." In L ite ra ry Modernism.
E d. Irv in g Howe. New Y ork: F aw cett, 1967.
C heney, S heldon. T he T h e a tre . London: Longm ans, G reen an d C o .,
1958.
C onnolly, C y ril. T he Golden H orizon. New Y ork: U n iv ersity B ooks,
1955.
C o n q u est, R o b e rt. "T he A rt of th e E nem y." E ssay s in C riticism , 7,
No. 1 (1957), p p . 42-55.
--------------- - "G eorge O rw ell." T he L is te n e r, 27 S e p t. 1956, p . 465.
--------------- . "Get L ost, 'G ulag A rchipelago*!" Times L ite ra ry Supplem ent,
17 May 1974, p . 526.
--------------- - "In te rc o n tin e n ta l M issiles." R ev. of Like a B u lw a rk , b y
M arianne Moore. T he S p e c ta to r, 11 O ct. 1957, p . 448.
--------------- , e d . New L in e s. London: Macmillan, 1956.
---------, ed . New Lines I I . London: Macmillan, 1963.
--------------- - "New L ines: o r It W asn't Like T h at R eally ." T he M onth,
May 1956, p . 27.
--------------- - "Rhyme and R easo n ." R ev . of T he In h e rito rs: Poems 1948-
1955, b y R ichard C h u rc h . T he S p e c ta to r, 5 A pril 1957, p . 456.
C orke, H ilary. "The B ad Old S ty le ." E n c o u n te r, 4, No. 6 (1955), p . 22.
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