’~""""—u—n-I-u-I-I-I-I-I-I-u-I-I

THE OXFORD GROUP
A STUDY OF THE POETRY OF W. H. AUDEN,
STEPHEN SPENDER, C. DAY LEWIS, AND LOUIS MACNEICE

Thesis for the Degree of Ph. D.
MICHIGAN STATE UNIVERSITY
John Frederick Povey
“I964

THESIS

: IIIIII IIIIIIIIII II IIIIIIIIL

293 0063148

This is to certify that the

thesis entitled

THE OXFORD GROUP
presented by

JOHN FREDERICK POVEY

has been accepted towards fulfillment
of the requirements for

Ph. D. degree in English

#5 (4%.:

Major pr essor

(\e7

Date 25 July 1964

 

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the humane truths of man in our oiy 45 it

THE OXFORD GROUP
A STUDY OF THE POETRY OF H. H. LUDEN, STEPHEN SPENDER,
0. DAY LEWIS, AND LOUIS MAGNEICE.

By

John Frederick Povey

A THESIS

Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
Department of English

1964

Cnnpter
Forward
I. The intellectual in the
Thirties
II. The Oxford Group
III. A Iote on the Texts
IV. 3. H. Auden
V. Stephen Stender
VI. Cecil Day Lewis

VII. Louis EuoIeiee
VIII. The Contemporary View

Selected Bibliography

.

y-..
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so
(I)

FORENQRD

Years of excess have resulted in a general distrust
of the English thesis which places its emphasis on the
historical or sociolOgical aspects of writing while it
offers only meager and unilluminating comments on the
quality and value. The reaction to this type of study
is exemplified by the New Criticism with its insistence
that literature be largely separated from its historical
environment. This insistence in turn developed its Own
excess. After reading a good deal of this 'lemon squeezer'
criticism, I began to feel something of the same resentment
voiced by David Daiches:

The New Criticism has no monOpoly of poetic
perception. We resent the assumption that
they alone are really critics,all the others
being merely scholars, historians, einfluss
hunters, {Deitivists or unprincipled impres-
sionists.

Anyone investigating the poetry of the thirties must
be more aware of the historical and political background
than narrow literary criticism would admittas necessary.
The ground on which I choose to base my critical method is
indicated by F. R. Leavis in an essay in his book, The

Common Pursuit.

 

1David Daiches, Literary Essays (London, 1956), p.168.

11

If it is asked in such an enquiry whether it

is principally sociOIOgical or literary it will

be enough to answer that it represents the kind

of sociolOgical interest into which a real

literary or critical interest in literature

develops and correlatively the sociOIOgist

here will be a literary critic or nothing . . . .

This is not to suggest that a serious interest

in literature can confine itself to the intense

local analysis associated with practical criti-

cism, to the current scrutiny of words on the

page in their minute relations, their effect

as imaginary and so on; a real literary in-

terest is an intense interest in man, society

and civilization and its boundaries cannot be

drawn.2

I realize that the danger in an historical approach is
to regard literature as important chiefly for the light it
throws on social and political history. This is not my
intention in this dissertation. It is quite obvious that
the past can be interpreted through its literature as much
as its literature is to be interpreted through our fragmen-
tary knowledge of the past. But both elements must be con-
sidered. Never more than in the thirties did the poetry
grow out of the social and political circumstances, even
while the poets were themselves altering and moulding the
accepted views of contemporary history and society. The
poets both reflected and created the intellectual beliefs
of the age.
The writers whom my thesis concerns were intensely aware

of the political events, and convinced that analysis and

2r. R. Leavis, The Common Pursuit (London, 1952), p.200.

iii

legislation could control social ills. In considering
such writers therefore, a measure of what must be called
the sociolOgical approach is essential. The poetry of the
thirties was 'engaged' poetry, and I do not think the term
has to be perjorative. James T. FarreD.stresses the neces-
sity of employing such an approach in discussing these
pOets by remarking pertinently that one reason for their
relative neglect and dismissal during the last decade has
been that they do not lend themselves to a narrow critical
apprOach that does not allow consideration of their social

and historical position.

During the thirties a sociolOgical approach

was highly popular. Today, the same type of
approach is viewed with disdain and even with
alarm ... Writers who were praised in terms of
a sociOIOgical approach to literature during the
thirties are now damned and judged out of date.-9

In re-examing the work of these poets I wish to draw
upon knowledge of social and political history, and yet com-
bine such information with a close critical examination of
their writing. Illumination of the wider sociological as-
Pects of my material will reinforce literary analysis. Dr.
In Shucking insists upon this combination.

No attempt to relate literary studies with the
sociOIOgical will yield much profit, unless

informed and controlled by a real and intelli-

gent interest, a first-hand critical interest,
in literature.

James T. Farrell, Refkctions at 50 (N.Y., 1954), p.180.
Dr. L. Shucking, The Sociology of LiterarygTaste
(Ipndon, 1934), p. 4.

iv.

 

 

 

0,.

My aim is similar to that of R. M. Charques who, in
writing of the the 1920's’faced the same issues and took
his stand on the following rather general pronouncement:

The method I have adopted has been to set off
the general characteristics of post-war litera-

ture, and apparent trend of poetry ... against
the background of social and political conditions

in England.5

With historical and literary scholarship I want to demon-
strate the influence of political and econOmic events on the
Poets 0f the thirties, but I must also consider how these
LpOets created and voiced the received English view of the
:period. My intention is to interpret the age fer the better
inaderstanding of the poetry, and, more importantly, to esti-
Inate the extent to which the moral and political problems
<xf this decade extended the range and perception of the
weeiting of these poets. The writers I am considering saw
tile dangers Of Fascism and the inevitable war apparently
lxang before the politicians, and their poetry, because of
tilat, was often minatory and rhetorical.

In this thesis I wish to assert that the events Of
this time, and especially the Spanish Civil War, developed
their poetic feeling in a way that demanded an extension

of their emotional range and poetic technique. The poetry

\

5R. M. Charques, Contemporary Literature and the
Social RevolutionfiTLondon, 1922) p. IX.

that they wrote in response to the appeals to their conscience
made by events in England and in Europe in the mid-thirties
is Lsually their best work. It is, I believe, qualitatively
better in emotional strength aid poetic force than all that
they had published before this time. It is also superior
to anything that they were to write subsequently when the
urgency of events no longer spurred their spirits, and
failure depressed their idealism. I hope to show that the
pOems that they wrote in the thirties with their passionate
appeal for an honest, liberal and humanist ideolcgy are as
relevant to this age as they were thirty years ago, and
Just as capable of enlarging the moral vision by which we

must Judge political and social issues today.

vi

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

u

 

THE INTELLECTUAL IN THE THIRTIES

The decade Of the thirties was a significant watershed
in European thought. The period spanned the time during
which the new generation began to look towards a new war
rather than backwards toward the last. There was a total
division 0f sentiment between the rootless 'lOst generation'
or the twenties, and the politically committed intellectuals
exemplified by the 'Pylon Poets' of the thirties. Domestic
and international disasters had produced a profound sense
Of malaise. The Great Crash of 1929 began an economic depres-
sion so deep-rooted that On every side there was shameful
evidence of its relentless power. At home the misery of this
decade was shown in the unemployment, the hunger marches,
the soup kitchens, and the means test. AtrOphy settled on
the business life Of the country. Grass grew among the
disused collieries. In the international field the weakness
of the League of Nations, after Arnerican failure to ratify
Wilson's post-war dream, was monotonously and depressingly
exhibited. In Manchuria in 1931, in Abyssinia in 1935, in
Germany's systematic and defiant breaking of the treaties
of Versailles and Looamo, there was clear evidence that demo-
cratic liberalism and political; :. morality were everywhere in

retreat. Fascism began the militant expansion that only a

world war was to halt.

2

In Spain in 1936 there seemed to be a momentary check
to the rise of the dictatorships. A left-wing republican
government was formed which, whatever its obvious faults,
did appear to offer a genuine alternative to olig'archid;
rule. When the Franco revolt against this elected government
was so openly supported by the Fascist powers there seemed,
at last, a clear issue on which to challenge the defiant
Dover of the expanding dictatorships. As Day Lewis erte:

The struggle in Spain is part Of a conflict

going on now all over the world. I look upon

it as a battle between light and darknesi of

which only a blind man could be unaware.
Not only did the issues seem clear, they had been obvious
enough on other occasions of aggression, but now something
could be done. Recruiting international volunteers to sup—
port the hard-pressed government forces in Spain offered
Englishmen the Opportunity to take action in substantiation
of their moral beliefs. Over the remilitarization of the
Rhineland, for instance, they could condemn as much as they
wished, but their government's policy made acquiescence
unavoidable. In Spain they were offered the choice of
action. They could join the Internation Brigade and defend
European liberalism outside the suburbs of Madrid. The tone

01‘ their vague but vehement determination may be gauged from

Day Lewis's retort to Aldous Huxley, Huxley wrote a pacifist

10. Day Lewis, Authors Take Sides (London, 1937), p. 4.

3

pamphlet asking the intellectuals What Are You Going To Do
gbgnt It: Day Lewis was the spokesman who answered, 'We're
Not Gging T9 29 Nothigg'. He assumed that their decision
mattered, and that it was capable of changing political
events. If this belief in political decision distinguishes
the thirties from the twenties, it is equally the key to
the conflict of generations that makes the Angry Young
Men of the fifties, however socially aware, despise the
idealism and optimism of these posts. A spokesman of this
group, John Wain, observed very scathingly in a review,
that the thirties exhibited:

A crushing sense, now extinct, of personal

responsibility. It was the last age, cons-

ciously and feverishly the last, in which

people had the feeling, that if they only

took the trouble to Join something, get a

party card, wear a special shirt or organize

meetings and bellow slogans, they could in-

fluence the course of events. Since 1946

nobody above t e Jehovah Witness level has

thl. attitude.
The so-called 'gay twenties' tended to ignore the issues of
social Justice for a powerful, introverted frenzy, but the
circumstances of the thirties forced people's attention
back to the issues which demanded political and social
choice. The typical literature of the thirties is writing
of topical urgency. It communicates the feeling of stress

at the censciousness of imminent disaster. Certain poets

2John Wain, Review, §pgc§a§gr (March 19. 1954).

 

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’v‘

4
seemed particularly responsive to this need for political
action. YOunger poets in the early years of the thirties
found it impossible to imagine themselves standing apart
from their society. They lived under a social system
which seemed to acquiesce passively to events, as if mass
unemployment and concentration camps were irremediable acts
of Some inscrutable deity. They chOse to take sides. With
the rejection of political apathy went a refusal to toler-
ate all that is implied by an 'Art for Art's Sake' philo-
sophy. They angrily denied the whole assumption of the
bland, country. escapism or the Georgian movement 0f
the previous decade. They despised a literature that de-
sired to retreat into a sentimental versiOn of the past;
that seemed content with a rhythm and diction that was
Obsolete; with themes that were irrelevant to contemporary
issues.

To achieve a change, to make what Grierson called
'new poetry for the new world to be won by social revolu-
tion',3 they sought a.new technique to communicate their
Changed themes. Above all they desired a new and wider
audience for their verses. If they were to be the mili-

tant spokesmen for the aroused conscience of the workers

3H. Grierson, A Critical History of English Litera-
ture (London, I946), p. 563.

 

5
they assumed that they should win the proletariat as an
audience. With this in mind they attempted to introduce
the conversational style of common speech. and symbOls
taken from every day experience. These things all rein-
forced their repudiation of the artificial poeticism of
the immediate past. In reacting against the country images
of the Georgian pOets they eagerly embraced imagery derived
from the new technolOgy which, previously, had been regarded
as.non-poetic. It was this preoccupation with railways and
generators which led to their receiving the title 'Eylon
Poets'.
But the change was primarily personal and political

rather than technical. The idea of the necessity of
SOcial reform was a background to everything they wrote.
All concepts of the ivory tower spirit of poetry were re-
Jected for a committed human and humanitarian idea. The
Poet was no longer to seek isolation but participation.
MacNeice's definition of a poet makes a striking reversal
or the conventional picture of the eccentric poetic genius
With his head in the clouds.

A poet should be able-bodied, fond or talking,

a reader of newspapers, capable of pity and

laughter, informed in economics, appreciative

0f women, involved in personal relationships,

actively interested in pfilitics, susceptible
to physical impressions.

‘

4Louis MacNeice, Mbdern Poetry (London, 1938). p. 198.

 

6

This new emphasis led to a poetry in which the ideas
fed on external social events rather than on intrOspective
discovery. Emotions burned at the daily harrowing sights
that assaulted the conscience of allimen capable of being
moved by human suffering. The horrifying human misery
of the times seemed evidence that the entire capitalist
structure had broken down. Many sincere men were driven
towards the Communist Party as members, or at least as
sympathizers. The faults Of Communism were less Obvious
in the thirties when a visit to Russia was a rarity, and
the distress of capitalism only too glaringly obvious
to everyone. This is why Andre Gide's retraction of his
Communist sympathies made such an impact. After a visit
to Russia he published his Retour a l'URSS, which denounced
the«difference between the Enropean vision and the Russian
practice. But at first the Communist Party offered an
alternative to economic decay. The slump fitted into the
Orthodox Narxist diagnosis of the inevitable contradictions
which would ensure the destruction of the capitalist eco-
n0mio order. NOt only was the Communist diagnosis apparent-
ly incontrovertible, but it appeared to Offer a dynamic
alternative which the moribund democracies lacked. The
Hmddled pragmatic patching, which Was the policy cflthe
British and American governments, seemed triwally inadequate

when set against the sweeping and authoritative reforms to

7
be initiated by a victorious Communist government when
it assumed power. Besides its Offer of domestic economic
solutions, the Party could also be supported for the deci-
siveness Of its foreign policy. It seemed the only effec-
tive and systematic Opposition to Fascism available.
Only Communist discipline and organization could challenge
the dictatorial governments in EurOpe. Hence it was the
Communists who took over pOwer in the Madrid government,
the Communists who rioted to resist the growing power of
(hwald Mosley's blackshirts in England, and formed a major
center of early defiance to Hitler in Germany. The accep-
tance of their views seemed unanswerable, and even such
a mild and withdrawn figure as E. M. Forster could de-
clare, 'NO political creed except Communism offers an
intelligent man any hope'5. But again it must be stressed
that what was assumed to be Communism was not a very
accurate or practical version of its policies. Spender's
View of it may be taken as typical:
Communism or Socialism in its completed
form offers a Just world, a world in which
wealth is more equally distributed and grotes-
que accumulations of wealth by individuals is
dispersed; in which nations have no interest in
destroying each other in the manner of modern
war, because the system of competitive trade

controlled by internecige and cppOsed capitalist
interests is abolished.

5E. M. Forster, Abinger Harvest (New York, 1936), p. 74.

 

63. Spender, The Destructive Element (London, 1935),
p. 228.

‘8
looking back to this period Day Lewis Observed wryly:
We felt 'from each according to his ability,
to each according to his need‘ to be con-
cepts as inspiring a? Christ's sayings in the
Sermon On the MOunt.

One of the most revealing books which exemplified this

attitude to Communism was The Mind in Uhains which was edi-

 

ted by C. Day Lewis. In a series of essays it‘ discusses
the Communist stand on literature, education and so on.
The introduction is typical.

The Mind in Chains could never have been
written were it not for the widespread
belief of intellectual workers that the
mind is really in chains today, that these
chains have been forged by a dying social
system, that they can and must be broken,
and in the Soviet Union have been broken;
and that we can Only realize Our strength
by joining forces with the millions of
workers who have nothing to losg but their
chains and have a world to win.

 

The view of the contributors may be indicated by the state-
ments of Edward Upward and Rex Warner.

No writer can write well unless he is an
active member Of the workers movement.

If some people don't like the word marxist
we must be prepared tO say 'common sense'.

NO book written at the present time can be
good unless it is written from the harxist
or near Marxist viewpoint.
Day Lewis makes a very similar declaration even more force-

fiflly. The assumption behind the necessary revolution is

 

¥

TC. Day Lewis, The Buried Day (London, 1960), P. 208.

80. Day Lewis, Edit.) The Mind in Chains (London, 1937),
p. 17.

 

n-

 

revealing.

The writers of our generation are interested
in politics to an extent unequalled by Eng-
lish writers since the French Revolution.
They feel that the old structure Of society
is incapable of dealing satisfactorily with
the new development of life, and they are not
convinced that the necessary revolution is
the business of the politicians.9

Another very significant assertion of Communist belief
was Christopher Caudwell's Illusion and Reality. Here sup-
port.has become jargon.

All bourgeois poetry is an expression of the
movement of the bOurgeOis illusion according
as the contradiction rooted in bOurgeois eco-
nomy emerges in the course of the develOpment
of capitalism.10

Other voices swelled the chorus. Robert Graves, though

violently antagonistic to the left, is forced to accept

that

The future of English prosody depends on
the political outcome of the class warfare
now declared.ll

Herbert Read, whose Marxism was so considerably less
than orthodox, Joins the attack on the capitalist side.

Capitalism does not challenge poetry on
principle - it merely treats it with ignor-F
ance, indifference and unconsious cruelty.1d

90. Day Lewis, Revolution In Writing (London, 1935),
p. 10.

10c6 Caudwell, Illusion and Reality (London, 1937),
p. 7.

11Robert Graves, Common Asphodel (London, 1949), p.54.

12Herbert jmad, Poetgy and Anarchism (New York, 1939),
p. 23.

30
In these paeans of the new revolution it was not always

realized where such political support would direct the
creativity of the writer as an individual. Arthur
Koestler who had had considerable experience with Commu-
nist dialectics was in the best position to point out the
absurd demands made upon the writer who attempted to demon-
strate his intellectual solidarity with the prOletariat.
The official Party view was clear enough.

A member of the intelligentsia could never

become a real proletarian, but his duty was

to become as nearly one as he could. The

correct way was never to write or say, and

above all never to think, anything which

could not be understood by the dustman.13

hany writers, although generally sympathetic, had the

goal sense to avoid the more extreme strictures that follow-
ed from Lenin's dictum, 'Art must serve propaganda. Lit-
erature must be Party literature'. Others were prepared
to immolate their muse on the altar of Party orthodoxy.
Ewen if the dangers of Communist excess were perceived, it
did not follow that solution lay in an indifference to
political event. The commitment to social change had to
be made; that was inescapable. Only after that could a

Post protect, as far as poSsible, his artistic integrity

and creativity in the face of demands that he become a

13Arthur Koestler, The eod That Failed (New York,
1949), p. 49.

 

 

3.:

1Q

propagandist for the cause. Few assumed that one could
escape the obligation to support the views sympathetic
to the workers. As hacheice defines the situation of
the poet:

The writer today shOuld not be so much

the mouthpiece of the community...as its

conscience, its critical faculty, its

generous instinct.l

Kachiece's critical book Hedern Poetry is probably

the beat statement Of the moderate and reasonable commit-
ment that the poets Of his group undertook. His quali-
fications and hesitations are revealing in themselves.

It is probably true that for the production

nowadays Of major literature ... a sympathy

is required in the writer with the for es

which at the moment make for prOgress.
At the time the word 'progress' was less question—begging
than it is now. But MacKeice, for all his left-wing sym-
pathies,was trying to avoid the impasse that results from
the insistcnce that a poet must be a propagandist, to be
useful to the cause of the workers. He attempts a more
general definition.

I consider that the poet is a blend of the

entertainer and the critic or informer. He

is not a gegislator, nor yet essentially a
prophet.1

l4MacNeice p. 111.

15MacNeice p. 194.
l6macNeice p. 197.

 

 

o.

12
Later he points up the difficulty of releasing poetry from
its obligations to be propagandist by defining poetry itsélf.
For poetry is not primarily an instrument
of propaganda, or even of simple edification
but a way of exploring and unifying what can
be called in the widest sense, our moral ex-
perience.

If this seems the merest truism today it needed to be
reasserted in the thirties. Auden at this time would appear
to subscribe to this position however much the hectoring
and moralizing tone of some of his later writing demon-

strates a falling off from the principles of his own

declaration. In his introduction to The Poet's Tongue

 

Auden declares:

Poetry is not concerned with telling peeple
what to do, but with extending our knowledge
of good and evil. Perhaps making the neces-
sity for action more urgent, its nature more
clear, but only leading us to the point where
it is possible for us to make a rational and
moral choice. 8

No one felt the dilemma more acutely than Spender
because his style was totally unsuited to the didactic
tuition demanded from sympathetic poets. It was Spender,
struggling d05gedly to balance social fervor and literary
develOpment, who saw that the fundamental dichotomy was
"the problem of a liberal divided between his individual

development and his social conscience."19 Spender saw
17MacNeice p. 198.

18w. H. Auden, Edit., The Poet's Tongue (London, 1935),
p. IX.

198. Spender, Poetry Since_l9}9 (London, 1946). p. 28.

13
too thervious false premise on which poetry as propaganda
is based; unexceptionable sentiments are not in them-
selves guarantees of significant poetry. John Press
sets out this view which, if obvious, seems to denand
reiteration.
Ihe presentation of a set of dozmas held
even with complete sincerity can never be
a substitute for this fused experience in
which belief and doubt, passion and thought,
memory and desire are so clOSely blended.
The class-conscious writer is no better as
a writer for championing the proletariat
instead of the ruling class.

This is obviously true, but it did not offer quite
the solution that many poets in the thirties needed, for
they were in varying degrees involved in the social
stru;gle, domestic and international. how COuld they
ignore the desolation and threat on every side? HOw
could they avoid the dangers of such commitment to their
writing?

The Spanish War seemed to offer a solution. It
narrowed the writer's sincere but nebulous resistance
against the abuses of the social order to a single point
Of chOice. Even such a transparent hero as Hemingway's
EQObert Jordan in For Whom the Bell Tolls exhibits this

saense of significant moral decision. Such acts are now

fWIrgotten or dismissed with sneers like Somerville's:

20
JOhn Press, The Fire and the F0untain (LOndon,

1956), p. 73.

 

1%

It was part of the left wing insanity of

the period to pretend, and perhaps to
believe, that there was a struggle between
darkness and light, although it was a strug-
gle between two rival gangs of terrorists
whOse aim and methods were equally abhorrent
to British sentiment.21

In spite of such remarks it seems to me that the
poets with whom I am concerned in this essay sought to
achieve an amalgam in which poetic truth was substantiated
rather than negated by their political concern. Obviously
a great deal of inferior poetry was produced by those who
had not effected this necessary synthesis; times of crisis
always produce much hollow and meretricious writing. W. J.
Stachan, for example, introducing a collection of modern
French poetry written for the 1942 resistance movement,
remarks:

Inevitably during a war, or a time of
national crisis, what the French have
called poesie de circonstance gains an
enhanced Value. It has the tOpicality
0f much war art, tends overmuch to mere
reportage or goes to the other extreme
while free rein is given to the most
deplorable facility and most hollow
rhetoric.22

There is ample evidence of 'deplorable facility'
and 'Hollow rhetoric' in much of the writing of minor
Poets in the thirties. Nevertheless, my argument is that

the major ones whom I am considering, had just such fea-

tures sterilized out of their styles by the strength

__

21D. C. Somerville, British Politics Since 1900
(London, 1953), p. 224.

22w. J. Strachen, Appolinaire to Aragon (London.l948)
p. xv.

15
of their concern for the issues which challenged them.
Provided they were able to resist becoming propagandists,
the urgent appeal generated by the inter-war disasters
gave substance to the theme of their writing. Before
these poets became committed to the issues involved in
their time, and especially to the moral demands of the
Spanish War; before they undertook to express their
humane concern; one notices that their interest often
seems to be primarily in the surface patterns of their
writing. The technical cleverness and verbal dexterity,
the Juggling with rhythms and experiments With forms,
seem almoSt to be a separate concern as though technique
could be detached from content. The demands of the
Communist propagandists that subject be the chief con-
sideration is the opposite but equally dangerous extreme.
But when the poets are moved, as they were over the Spanish
struggle, their technique, brilliant as it remains, is
subservient to a more general poetic motive. These
Poets exhibited an increasing intensity and seriousness
as the threat of the approaching major war grew more ines—
Capable. It was remarked of Auden, but the relevence is
wider, that the Spanish Civil War wiped the ironic smile
Off his face. Such cirCumstances do not permit detached

Ewsturing. They demand a commitment that is both'political

and poetic.

16
The naive effusions of the Communist Party hacks
stupid and dishonest in their

3 eem ludicrous tod ay;

rhetorical over-simplification. But those who supported

the Left-wing case in the inter-war years, who allowed
political allegiance to support poetic compassion,

prOduced writing: that has a relevance far wider than

the issues of the social events of the thirties. They

make assertions of the continuing situation of modern

Their passionate appeal and diagnosis are both

man.
and above all, Valid in our own society

r e1 event , mov ing ,

at present.

l 7

THE OXFORD GROUP

 

By far the most significant writers who sought to
Irecord the burning social issues of the thirties were the
:so-called Oxford Group of young pOets who were all students
eat Cmford University. The major figures in this group
vvere W. H. Auden, Stephen Spender, C. Day Lewis and Louis
Iiacheice. It may be necessary now to defend the common
sissertion of their group identity since they may appear
't<3 have as many differences as similarities. It must be
eniadtted at once that they never in any self~conscious
xqeay formed a literary movement. They published no
égzroup manifesto, nor did they Join to offer any declara—

1:j_on of their poetic principles. C. Day Lewis' A Hope for

 

PKDetrz expresses an admiration for the new poetry, and

EHFaises the work Of Spender and Auden but not as a

HMXiel for others who would join a school. Spender has
Humie the slightly ingenuous disclaimer that it was not
Inrtil 1949 at a Writer's Conference in Venice that the
‘fOur were all tOgether in one room for the first time.
Nevertheless, there are several good reasons for regarding
them as poets who may legitimately be grouped for com—

parison and analysis.1

._

lRoy Campbell later gave them some group identifi-
cation when he Joined them tOgether for abuse. He
invented a composite guy Mac-Spaunday as a target
for his spleen.

p.-

n
..4

r..-

p.)

18
A significant fact that early led to these poets
‘being grouped by critical opinion was that their work
‘was first published toaether in two important new col-
Ilections edited by Michael Roberts. These volumes, the

:famous New Signatures (1932) and flew Country (1933)

 

laound the pOets tOgether in the public mind. They have
<Dccasionally been called the 'Eew Country Poets'. There
dices appear to be a definite similarity of style and theme
111 the verse in these volumes. Clearly Kichael Roberts,
art least, intended the collection to be an interpretation
211d a declaration of a new poetic mode. Eew Signatures
VVEiS not emphatically nor overtly political. Fetween the
.Enlblication of the two collections, however, Hitler came
't<3 power in Germany, and this was sufficient to move

Elcfberts to an unequivocably partisan position. The fol—

4

‘

lxawing lines are taken from his introduction to Pew

 

Signantry.2

If our sympathies turn towards rev01utionary
changes it is not because Of our pity for the
unemployed and the underpaid, but because we
see at last that our interests are theirs,
and that a system that permits exploitation
for private profit, though it may abolish
poverty, must retain in the hands of certain
men the power to threaten the masses with
starvation and dictate what men shall eat and
drink and wear and think ... It's past the
stage of sentimental pity for the poor, we're
all in the same boat.

‘

2M. ROberts, mm, New Country (London, 1933), p. 10.

 

 

 

 

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n
.. .
,\
'-
P
I:
.
D.
a
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c
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.
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....
n. .,
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-

19
The identification of the group was not, however, certainly
established by this publication. These antholOfies did not
(zontain the work of Louis Nacfieice, who was always some-
xwhat a separate and tangential figure in the group. It
(did also include the work of several other significant
J.eft-wing writers of this time, John Lehmann and Rex
Hfarner. Among other pOets represented were the Cambridge
gxoet, William Empson, and the South African, William
ifilomer, neither of whom Can be connected with the pOetry
cxf social protest in the coming decade.

A factor that led to their sense of mutual identifi-
czsation must have been he similarities of their personal
losackgrounds. Each of them came from upper-middle class
}?I‘Ofessional homes, and entered Oxford after being educated
eat. superior public schools in England. Curiously enough
'tlleir families all had 010se ties with the Church. 50th
filuien's grandfathers were ministers and the fathers of Day
Lenvis and Ncheice were clergymen. Spender's religious
diémcovery seems to have derived largely from contact with

a much loved Quaker grandmother. This is obviously only

a coincidence, but it may have shaped the moral nature of
their social vision. It also meant that in rejecting the
Political ideas of their parents they turned their backs
On the Church. Only Auden subsequently returned to its

f01d.

if)

Auden was born on 21st February, 1907. His father

was a well-known physician. His mother was devoutly

religious. These two elements, science and religion,

have since warred constantly in his nature and in his

poetry. In 1908- the family moved to Birmingham where

his father was appointed medical Officer and Professor

of Public Health at Birmingham University. he was sent

to St. Edmund's Preparatory School in 1915. {ere he met

Christopher Isherwood who remained an important friend

throughout Auden's life. Their whole relationship is

amusingly and vividly evoked in Isherwood's autobio-

graphical novel Lions and Shadows (London, 1938). In

1920 he entered Gresham's School Holt, Norfolk, where he

Chose to study on the science side. He received an Ex-

hibition to Christ Church College, Oxford in 1925,,and

remained there for ihree years until he took his degree.

Spender was somewhat younger than Auden. He was

bOrn on the 28th of February, 1909. His father was a

Journalist and lecturer of some distinction, and his

uncle, J. .A. Spender, was a prominent historian. The

maiden name of his mother was Schuster, and she had both

Ge1-"IIlan and Jewish strains in her ancestry. If the former

8W6 Spender his passion for Germany, the latter pro-

duced anxiety and guilt in the years after he left

OXfOrd. He was sent as a day student to the c0nveniently

F0-

 

 

24
situated University College School in London, where he
felt constantly overshadowed by his more brilliant elder
brOthcr, I'Cichael. He did enter foord ”but he left with-
out completing~ his degree when the Opportunities of
travel and residence in Germany proved irresista‘cly
attractive.

Day Lewis and MacIeice were both Irish; Day Lewis
was the oldest of the group. He was born in Ballintubber,
Ireland) on the 27th of April, 1904. His father was in the
clergy. Although his mother, lik Spender‘s, died when
he was young, she had traced her descent from Oliver Gold-
smith and was a minor poetess herself. Day Lewis'r'intel-
lectual brilliance showed itself when he took a scholarship
to the high-ranking English public school, Sherbourne.
Subsequently, he gained a scholarship to Nadham College,
Oxford. His attention to his academic studies wandered
somewhat under the exhilirating contacts he made at the
UniVersity, and his final exams were passed with Fourth
Class Honors - the Oxford equivalent Of a D minus. His
comment is the modest, 'It is a mystery to me why the

examiners did not fail me altOgether.'

Macbfeice's parents were both Irish and his father

Was the ETOtestant Bishop Of Down. He was born on
September 17, 1907 in Belfast. Like Day Lewis he was sent

to a renowned English School, Marlborough. FrOm there in

5 -
...

I,-

....

' v

00“

u

 

 

   

u, u
=-
A
' I
‘ u
‘-
‘ I
Q
‘\
\.i’
.
n
‘Q‘ .-

22

1926 he went up to Herton College, Oxford. He had a repu-

tation for great intellectual distinction and in his final

exam he gained the coveted 'First'.
At Oxford these poets knew each other with varying

diegrees of intimacy. Day Lewis' room mate and most influ-

eqitial friend was actually Rex Harner, the Communist novelist.
.fiunden's main confidant was Christopher Isherwood, who was

r1<>t formally at the university at all as he had been firmly

ea}:pleibd from Cambridge. Spender knew Auden but the rela-

t;fi.Qnship was 'avuncular' rather than between equals. Even

€11; Caford then, these poets were not a homo enous or tight

EEIPCNJp. One polarizing factor was the dominating figure of

iUUI1en.himself. If his acc©unt can be believed, Auden ex-

perienced surprising and dramatic conversion to the desire

'tCD ‘write poetry. At the age of sixteen he suddenly saw

hi 8 destiny.

But indecision broke off with a clear cut end
One afternoon in March at half-past three.

When walking in a ploughed field with a friend;
Kicking a little stone he turned to me

and said 'Tell me do you write pcetry?’

I never had, and said so, but I knew

That very moment what I wished to do.3

Interestingly enough the friend was Robert Medley who, with

k11s influence with the Group Theatre, later got Auden to

airtempt dramatic writing. With the intention of becoming

\
3W. H. Auden, Letters from Ireland (New York, 1937),

p. 208.

 

 

.I‘A

 

 

‘51

23

a poet Auden spent his time at Oxford studying some subjects

unexpectedly recondite for the conventional poet: psycholOQy

arm biology. His erudition and air of knowingness seemed

tLO make him famous. He appears virtually to have held

czcmrt at Oxford. Spender mentioned with some amusement

(zin retrospect) the complex conditions by which he was pre-

xreented from meeting Auden until he had been adjudged worthy

of notice.

He Observes:

Calling on Auden was serious business. One
made an aPpOintment. If one arrived early one
was liable to find the heavy outer door of his
room, called 'the oak' sported as a sign that
he was not to be disturbed. When with him one
was liable to be dismissed suddenly and told
the interview was at an end.

.Aildlen must have appeared a vital yet eccentric figure writ-

11163 in his room with his green eye-shade; with the sackcloth

Cllzrtains perpetually drawn, drinking innumerable cups of

'tiaei. He would sit in the room Observing a rotting orange

CH1. the mantelpiece. This fruit was a constant reminder to

h'l’L-In of the decline and corruption of the West. Day Lewis

I‘exzords his appearance at this period.

\

Wystan was carrying a starting pistol and wear-
ing an extraordinary black lay-reader's type of
coat, frock coat, which came half-way down to his
knees, and had been regcued by him from one of his
mother's jumble sales.

43. Spender, World Within World (London, 1951), p. 50.
50. Day Lewis, The Buried Day (London, 1960), p. 177.

2a
For many of the Oxford writers the political, if not

the poetic solution was to become involved with the

Communist Party. Rex iv'arner and another novelist from

Joined the Party as early as

the group, Edward Upy-Iard,
Al-

.15929. Day Lewis was an active member from 1933-33.

'tkicmgh.8pender's actual membership was brief (a fewyeeks

.111 1936 after which his subscription lapsed) his sympathy

was continuous even for some time after his experiences

in Spain .
After foord Auden had a year's residence in Berlin

valeere he became acquainted with the work of Bertold Brecht
Which was later to influence his attempts at: drama. Then
returned to England and became a teacher briefly in
Ialvern. Day

flea

Scotland, and later at the DOWns School,

Idenvis took a more humble preparatory school position until

earl Opening at Cheltenham.SchOOl came along. Spender passed

111.3 time rather haphazardly in Berlin in a spirited but

C:C’nfusing relationship with Isherwood that sounds exactly

J~ilie one of Isherwood's Berlin stories. Only Mac Ieice had

SLlifficient paper qualifications to be Offered a university
lectureship, first at Birmingham, later at RdfOrd College,

8.:ninor school of London University.

None of them maintained their tinching connection for

'Verw'long, and by the time war Came they had already begun

to support themselves largely by writing. Auden went on a

25
szerdes of travels to Iceland, to Spain, to China and to the
Eytates, all of which became the subjects of longer poems.
In 1939 Auden settled in the United States and began
lli.s academic perambulations during which he taught in many
ainrerican schools rather briefly. Among the best knOwn are
'tliea University of Michigan (1941), Swarthmore (1942) and
EBlrgrn hawr (1943). he became an American citizen in 1946.
Idea returned to England temporarily when he was made Brofes-
EBCDI‘ of Poetry at Oxford but he returned to live in Kew York.
I3€asiides his writing he is also now associated with the
BClfietorial band Of one of the more pretentious book clubs.
Spender, after the failure of his first marriage, was
C=Orlrzected with the foundation of the influential magazine
EESDI‘izon. During the war he served in the Emergency Fire
Service. In 1941 he married again. his second wife was

1: ataeha Litvin, a well—known pianist to whom the Collected

 

gisflggs are dedicated. His continuing association with
lgnxzounter began in 1953.
During the war Day Lewis was attached to the Ministry
‘Df‘ Information in London (1941-46). In l951 he was divorced
arki married Jill Balcon. If the Postscript to his auto-
biOgraphy can be accepted he seems to have chosen a rather
placid literary retirement in the country.
MacNeice had one visit to the States when he lectured

at Cornell in 1940, but when he returned to England the

26

:following year he joined the staff Of the British ErOad-

casting Corporation. With the exception of a year spent

131 Athens with the British Council he remained with the

BOBOC.

Besides his own highly praised writings for radio

lie did much to support the ambitiously intellectual 'Thini

ErOgram' that was undertaken to appeal to a. highbrow

:Hrinority audience. His sadly early death was annOunced

this year.

Any attempt to group these poets must clearly focus

earitirely on their earlier writing. The Oxford Group is

Cleslimited by time as well as by attitude and technique.
Lilien one looks back upon the writing of this quartet one
3-53 more apt to see difference than identity, though one is
Ineaking implicit assertions Of connection in the way one
Cfiften considers the writing of one of them.in terms Of

Jaikeness or dissimilarity with another. Certainly their

3~ater development enables one to see the individuality

Cr? their talents which any attempt to group them over-

lxooks and conceals. However, if one evaluates their styles

rlot against each other, but backwards against the

writing
<Df the previous decade, the poetry of Bridges for example,
One can clearly see the division of their writing and

ideas from those of the earlier generation. There is a

‘new use of modern imagery and the rhythms are complex and

Original. Although their writing Owed much to the technical

27
zéevolution initiated by T. 8. Eliot (the influence of
Tflie Waste Land was especially profound) they expanded
i113 forms to wider, more explicitly social and political

sarcas. Both in technique and theme they challenged the

EILacid English assumptions about what poetry ought to be.

;EWDr some, especially for Spender and Day Lewis, the pro-

133.em of reconciling their ideas with their poetic develop-

nneant caused an agonizing sense of division. Eut there

vreare issues in the thirties of sufficient moment that

EDCDetry and conscience fused into a powerful and authentic

‘T<Dice for the age. It is the examination of these moments

(>1? significance that is the reason for this dissertation.

A NOTE ON THE TEXTS
The bibliOSraphies of the four poets discussed in this

tdneasis are very complicated. So much so that in the case
cxf .Auden the subject has already received a book length
svttuiy'- ETOfessor Beach's The Making Of the Auden Canon.
.Ass Iny own selected biblio:raphic lists at the conclusion of
tkii.ss<dissertation will indicate, each of these QOets has
En1t>]_ished more than a dozen volumes of verse. Some are new
'bcualcs, others are collections culled for various purpOses
dLir‘jnng their careers. These may include provisional col-
16K31310n8, selections and reprints in various series to
reaczihdifferent parts of the book market. It is not always
easy to decide which text may be regarded as the most cer-
tELiJI and definitive. It cannot always be asserted as a
EE‘el'leral rule that either the first or the last publication
will automatically be the best version. Some Of the poetry
‘figasl first printed in small editions that have become rare.
A33 (other times poems like Auden's §2§lfl or Spender's Return
312 ‘Jienna were published in a paper form so ephemeral that
E3110ther printing must have been intended from the very first.
Itt Vvould appear perfectly legitimate in such cases to use
itkhe next publication, although a check proves that occasion-
‘illy revisions are worthy of some comment. In a similar

‘Nay Day Lewis as early as 1936 had Leonard and Virginia

2‘9
Woolf publish at their Hoaarth Press a volume of Collected
Poems. This edition does not include his earlier inconse-
quential Georgian writings Beechen Vigil and Country Comets.
It incorporated his three longer poems written from 1929-33,
Transitional Poem, From Feathers to Iron and The Magnetic

Mountain. Since this printing appears to be identical with

 

the earlier publications it may be regarded as equally de—
finitive and is readily available.

Auden's famous f_0_e_m_s_ (1930) was reprinted with some
additions in London in 1933. i'."hen published in Eew York in
1934 it was enlarged by the addition of The O ators and The
Lance of Death both of which had previously been separately
pu‘blished in England. In America the 1934 collection re-

mains the nest text from Auden's earlier poetry, though

P"!

“Ionroe Spears lists four different collections of Auden's
poG‘lzry before the controversial versions incorporated in
the standard edition of the Collected Poetry (1945) and
there have been several collections since.

The question of American publication can also add a
note of confusion. In many cases there is no difficulty
because the American edition followed the English publication
8' Year later with an exact copy. Sometimes, however, it in-

Qludes additional poems or, although it contains the same
material, it is given a different title. Auden's 1936

Volume Look Strano'er (London) becomes in its 1937 New York

3.0
gmablication On This Island, although it is identical even

Clown to the pagination. In a reverse way, when The Double

Idan was published in England it received the title New

fifear Letter. A further eXample Of the difficulty of

“t1?acing the most satisfactory text is found in the 1945
ginierican collection of C. Day Lewis. he called this
T7511 8

c3<)llection Of his 1939-43 poems Short is the Time.
treblume combines in a convenient and accurate form his
3.9238 London Collection Overtures to Death, the l943

'V'C21ume Word Over All, and a selection of poems from a

].i.nmted edition collection Poems in fiartime.

The problem would have purely technical interest if

TDEleaview of the poets themselves on the propriety and

validity of revision were acceptable, but this is not the

C3Else. When they came to make the formal collection Of their

E3Oetry that was to establish the canon, to various degrees

'tfley chose to select, alter and eliminate poems for which

'tliere were established and acceptable texts. Tieir mo-

ti‘ves for this are questionable. For this reason the

.Sbillected Poetry texts cannot be the ones used as the

ENasis for the argument which I flake in this thesis.

 

In the preface to his large 1945 volume of Collected

EEEflgfl;Auden describes the basis for his decision to select

and eliminate as well as collect. John gander calls the

result 'the mOst misleading antholoay of his own work

ever issued by a poet'. Auden claims that if the poet

3T
elimfinates 'the rubbish' and 'the good ideas which his

iluzompetence and impatience prevented from coming to

mucrfl this leaves

The pieces he has nothing against except
their lack of importance; these must inevi-
tably form the bulk Of any collection since,
were he to limit it to the fourth class alone,
to those poems for which he is honestly grate-

ful, his volume would be too depressingly
thin.l

Thule seems reasonable enough until one examines the indi-

deiual decisions with care. J. W. Eeach makes, I believe,

arl'unanswerable case which indicates that Auden's motives
fYIr improvement or deletion were not primarily poetic.
Illere seems certain evidence that Auden revised in order
tO eliminate what was, in 1945, a disagreeable reminder
Of'lxis earlier humanist and Communist beliefs. The Anglo-

<3atholic Auden seems to have attempted to remove themes
vfiiich contradicted the theoloEical convictions of his

irecent conversion, whatever effect this might have on the

“Validity of some of his earlier poems. Perhaps his most

Significant decision was to arrange the poems in the

avllOIhabetical order of their first lines. This completely

destroys the possibility of a reader discovering any se-
quential development through the accepted chronology of

the Poem's creation. Beach again asserts that this aids

Anden's decision to eliminate the embarrassment of his

earlier left-wing opinions.

\_

It is true that the other

1w. H. Auden, Preface, Collected Poetry (few York, 1945).

32

(poets with some expliceble lapses do keep to the obvious

chronologi cal order.

By discreet revision and eliminations in the
poems of the thirties, and by throwing the
poems of all periods together in a heap with-
out regard to their temporal sequence, the
author does his best to irog out the contra-
dictions and inoongruities.

Monroe Spears, while admitting that such an arrangement is

'extremely unsatisfactory' defends the arrangement on the

grounds that 'it is legitimate and useful to present poe-

try in complete separation from biOgraphy and history.‘3

I am not convinced by this argument.

Spender's introduction to his Collected Poems (New York,

1955) is longer, and on the surface, more openly explana-

tory.

tinsn

Than

His work on the collection was clearly far more
merely a gathering of the texts.

To collect and select these poems I copied

them into a large notebook, then typed them

out and tried to consider how each poem would
best take its place in a single volume. In
this way I have spent several months reconsi-
dering and re-eXperiencing Rooms I have written
over the past twenty years.

he begins his explanation for the alterations.
my sin has been to retrieve as many past mis-

takes and to make as megy improvements as possi-
ble without 'cheeting'.

The quotation marks indicate the weight that has to be set

—‘

2J. V. Beach The Making of the Auden Canon (Minneapolis,
1957). p. 245.

3Monroe K. Spears, The goetrz of W, H, Auden (New York,
1962), p. 201.

4S. Spender, Collected Poems (New York, 1955). p. XV.

e.

e

~O-w

373
on that 'cheating'. He indicates several guide lines he
has ftfllowed. He has included poems like The 3ylons
beceuise of 'an obligation to own up ... they have a slight
histmbric interest which, I feel, ought to be regresented'.
He afiimits an obligation to stick roughly to the order in
whicli the poems were written', but in practice he has
’imgusoved this order by relating it to the autobioaraphical
deveilopment behind the poetryfi I am not entirely con-
viru:ed.by the argument for this improvement, but at least
one Inay assume a rough chronoloEy in the arrangement of
texd;s. Spender insists that he has decided 'not to alter
alwastically those poems which are, I think, fairly well
knflhfin}. But there are apparently 'several less known
Doenns which have remained as it were malleable'. I am
Iloti sure how Spender can justify including the heavily
I‘CVZ'lsed Spanish War Poems under the 'malleahle' heading.
E16 continues:
_A temptation I have guarded against is the
making of more than a discreet and almost
unnoticeable minimum of technical tidyings
up. Nothing seems easier when one is older,
than to correct a rhyme or rhythm which
eluded one's youthful incompetence.
Thi v‘ V.
S is entirely proper, yet tnere are numerous occasions
where, as I demonstrate, his guard relaxes and just such
‘ a , . '
ti(Wings up' occur. Again this sh we most clearly in
Ti

~L§_§L§l1 Centre collection which I discuss in some detail

\

SS. Spender, Collected Poems (New York, 1955 , p. XV.

n.3,. \ I 5.13.... I... o. 30.: ”HAN ...!Ebouiws

r...

 

 

K}!
k 1

in the text. Spender's assertions cannot always be sup-
ported by a clOSe examination of several ooens in their

original and Collected roens form.

i

F

'oth hacleice and Day Lewis resist more effectively

L

than the other two the temptation to revise their work,

although Macheice's Preface to his COIlected Poems makes

5

several equivocal statements. There is a sl’ght conflict
between the assertion and the practice. he announces for

eXample:
While resisting the temptation to ”collect'
only what I most adaire, I have omitted cer-
tain poems which I now dislike.

lie continues:

In gregarin: this book for the :ress I have
also resisted the tenptation to make many

revisions, since I feel that after three or
four years from the date of writing, a poet

should leave not—so-well alone. fithin
that time limit I have to some extent re-
vised.7

This distinction in the poems that may receive revision
has at least preserved his earlier and war-time poems from
the alterations of hindsight. Poems from this period are
precisely those that have received the heaviest and most
detrimental re—working from Auden and Spender. This is

Of particular importance in this thesis since my argument

6L. MacKeice, Collected Poems (London, 1949) p. 7.

7Ivia.cI~Teice, p. 17 .

'2 .

“5

is based on an assertation of the significance of the poetry
as it was first conceived in the thirties.

Day Lewis comes cloaeSt to making his Collected Poems

 

a.complete and unchanged gathering of his work. His deci-
ssion to present his work unaltered is not essentially one
(bf dispassionate principle, but of regretted poetic limita—
13ion. In his Preface he remarks:

some poets can re-write and improve their early
work years later. I wish I could do so. But
the selves who wrote those poem are strangers
to me and I Carnot resume their identities or
go back into the world where they lived ... I
could no more reconstruct an old poem than I
could reassemble the self out of whom it was
constructed.0

:[f7 Day Lewis resists 'improvement' he also decides against
éalxtering the emphasis of his writing by elimination.

Where re-writing is impossible, selectiOn seems
desirable. But this involves criticism ... in
principle I think a Collected Poems should offer
everything ong has written. In practice I have
excluded ...

 

exnd he lists a few minor exclusions. As a matter of fact,
‘these include his renowned and embarrassing poem beginning,
"Why do we seeing a Red feel small."

I have described the biblioEraphic problem in some de—

tail not because I feel that this begins to constitute a

80. Day Lewis, Collected Poems (London, 1949), p.,9
90. Day Lewis, 9. 9.

 

 

v."

 

~ A

a».

 

36

study of the topic; such an investigation would be a thesis

in itself. I as indicating the basis for my choice of imme-

diate reference source for the poetry I quote in the body

of this thesis. With many poets the final form they con-

<3eive for their poem may justly be considered the conclusive

aifl.established one. The Collected Poems of these writers

czannot be taken as the most valid version of any poem. It

Inay be representative of the writer’s last thoughts and

z=evisions, but the motives and the results of such changes

nuist often be questioned. The latest version is certainly

Ilcrt always the most desirable or significant poetically.
liy’ argument, therefore, is always based on the poem in the
If<1rm in which it was first published. This presumably re-

En?esents the poet's original, considered form. It has not

S£Bemed necessary to make any general distinction in choosing
tfiie American or the English collections where the texts are
tile same. Where they have several identical versions in
Iprint, I have made a somewhat arbitrary choice between

‘the earliest one, and the volume that would be most readily
av'ailable to any reader who wishes to check my references.
FTn*example, Day Lewis' Collected Poems of 1956 is generally
accepted as the standard source for Transitional Poem.

Since it is identical with the rare 1929 original volume,

and is found in many good libraries, it would seem somewhat

Inflantic to insist on the earlier version for one's reference.

A-v
.

 

371
Where it is of special interest I have noted in the
discussion or in footnotes the nature of the revisions
Inade by these poets in their Collected Poems. I have not
(ione this rigorously since there is little point in mak-
:ing constant and detailed references to minor changes.
:Such consideration would take this thesis into areas that
vvere not strictly concerned with its central argument. If
zalterations are significant enough to lend further sup—
IDOrt to my assertion that the original form is usually
snare urgent and vital than the revision, then they are
IlCTted. EXamples Of such alterations are observed at some
lxength when I discuss Audenis §2ain, and comment on Spender's
Spanish War poems.

I have tried to select in each case biblioEraphic
IPeferences that most conveniently present the original and
emithentic contemporary version of the poems which these
lyriters published. I hope my selection combines scholarly

eXactitude with a common-sense view of availability.

K)!
(I).

3f 0 H 0 AUD E1

Auden is the most decisive and influential poet Of
‘this decade. So total and pronounced is his influence
“that the other three poets are sometimes assumed to be
asatellites round the planet of his pervasive voice.
aattracted by his multivarious skills, his sense of cer-
13ainty and intellectual control, Spender, Day Lewis and
Iéacfieice occasionally lapse into copying the confident
.Aiuien styles. Undoubtedly, for all his exasperating
Iflgiapancy and his excessive production, Auden is the major
IDCNet of this group. Even his obvious faults have a certain
eatfltractive panache. In his work can be seen most clearly
the spirit of the thirties, and the poetic decline that
Eiffifected all these poets after the 1939-45 war. Auden
13y'1mis range and technical skill extended the nature of
Ellglish poetry.
In spite of the apparent revolution the influence of

1118 verse created on others, his own poetic style seems often

61 compendium of influences that have afiected his. Checan

easily trace the impact of the early writing of T. S.

TEliot. Hevil Coghill, Auden's tutor at oxford records

the follOwing amusing and revealing anecdote:

One morning Hr. Wystan Auden, then an under-
graduate at Christ Church, blew in to Exeter
College for his tutorial hour with me saying:

39
'I have torn up all my poems.
'Indeed! fihy?’
'Zecause they were no good.
Yordsworth. :0 good nowadays.
'Jh...?'
'You oujht to rea‘ Eli
reading Eliot. I see
want to write.'1

ot. I've been
now the way I

Another significant influence was G. M. Hopkins. There

j.s clear evidence of an admiring emulation of Hopk'n ' form

He, March, you do with your movements master and
rock
With wing whirl, whale wallow, silent buddine cell.
(New Countnyg p. 214.

 

Citiese lines appear a deliberate copy. The followinj ines
Iirndicate the same influence but now assimilated. The
ESturess of the sprfing rhythm and the alliteration is clear,
‘bfllt there is less sense of parody.

Doom is dark and deeper, than any sea dingle
Upon what men it fall. (Poems, 1939, p. 43

Perhaps throufh his reading of Hopkins he learned to
emimire Anglo-Saxon verse and the Icelandic sagas. In this
(lonnection it is interesting to note that he was inordinately
iproud of the Icelandic heredity of his family. he Saxon
alliteration and sonorous tone echo in many of Auden's early

lines:

lNevil Coghill, "Sweeney Agonistes", in T. 3. Eliot,
A Symposium edit. R. March (London, 1948}, p. 82.

‘A \l
a” '1

i‘n

I
'Q
I
."e.

“:3“

v5. .‘

to

Shot answered shot, bullets screamed
Guns shook hot in hand
Fighters lay groaning on ground. (Pgems,1224), p. 67.

Or similarily:
With labelled luggage we slight at last
Joining, Joking at the Junction on the moon. (Poems,

1224), p. 155.
Large sections even of such a late poem as The Age 9; Angiety

(1946) use this ayle.

Our long convoy
Turned sway northward ss tireless gulls
Hove over water webs of brightness
end sad sound, The insensible ocean,
Miles without mind, moaned all around our

Limited laughter. (The Age of Anxiety), p. 15.

Besides these stylistic influences there are the non-
poetic studies which engorged his ”sponge-like imagination."
when Auden went up to Christ Church, Oxford in 1927, besides
literature, he studied psychology and biology. While his
poetry incorporeted these scientific interests his thought
seemed to combine the disparate theories of Freud, Groddeck
and Marx. A further unusual interest that shows in his writ-
ing is in light and comic verse and songs. Auden delighted
in.Hueio 8311 songs, the rhythm of Jazz and popular night
club lyrics. It is this interest that gave his work its air
of topicelity. Sometimes his verse comes dangerously close
to appearing as e mere patchwork of borrowed styles. Philip

Henderson talks rather rudely of Auden's "magpie mind."2

aPhilip Henderson, The 292; ang Societz (London. 1939).

p. 226.

 

O‘

u
.
.
. L
. ,
.
.
A . ‘
I
.
A ,
£-

.' I
..'y ‘
D
. a-
) e
f
I
I
O l ‘ '
I
I
t
._ .. _ |
3,5. M“
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4%
Beach suggests ”chameleon" as an apprOpriate comparison.
It is the very fertility of his imagination that creates
the sense Of bewilderment when one tries to read his work
in bulk. Beach notes the doubts created by such over-

whelming variety.

We are more imgressed as we go on with the

amazing versatility of this writer, with

the 'infinite variety' of the parts into

which he can throw himself, and the skill,

the authority, with which he puts them on.

But we do begin to wonder how it is possi-

ble for one serious poet to be so many men

and with some concern seek out the essential

man behind the actor.3

The apparently motley list of influencasabove does,

however, clearly sugtest two predominant channels in Auden's
verse. He absorbed, expanded, and sometimes vulgarized,
the technical and linguistic revolt which Eliot and
Pound had initiated against the whole ethos of Eridges
and his contemporaries. This technical change was coupled
with a similar extension of theme. More emphatically
than Eliot, Auden affirmed in his writing the contention
that all subjects were the proper concern ofpoetry. Partly
as a result of this he voiced a sharp awareness Of his
own historical and sociolOgical position. These dual
elements, the proliferation Of contemporary style and

subject, gave Auden his appearance of modernity. Sometimes,

 

3J. w. Beach, The making of the Auden Canon (hfinneapolis,
1957), p. 110.

42
however, this even became a fault, since these virtues n
serve to "date" much of his less impressive verse.

Auden's apparent first-hand familiarity with science
and the economic and political issues of his age won him
the championship of his generation. That much Of this
ap?roval was facile is obvious, and Dr. Leavis observes
with an unnecessary sneer.

There it was flattering, modern and sophisti-
cated, offering an intellectual and powerful
profundity that didn‘t challenge them to any
painful effort or discipline, and assuring them
that in wearing a modish leftishness, they
could4hold up their heads in guaranteed right-
ness.

"EOdish leftishness" is a prOblem throuyhout this
decade, but Leavis' criticism is intolerably biased. The
surface glitter is there indeed, and sometimes the brilliance
of the virtuosity merely dazzles. Yet if such shiny veneer
has been overpraised one does not restore a critical bal-
ance by condemning it for existing. In Auden’s idiomatic
colloquialisms and his es0teric experiments with private
names and symbols, it is obvious that adroitness can often
lapse into carelessness. The maddening ellipsis of what
Day Lewis called Auden's "telegraphese" is another cause

of obscurity. This obscurity sometimes arOSe, ironically

enough, from his conscious search for a language that would

 

AFA R. Leavis, The Common Enrsuit (London, 1952), p.
29 .

43
free poetry from its cliquish, "egg—head" associations.
Scarfe asserts that this style is the result of "the cheap-
ness, the slang, the easy thrills, the disrespect and the
slovenliness of a muddled age."5 But it hardly seems
possible to blame only the times,and avoid laying some
blame on Auden too.

Clearly in a collected Opus of shorter poems, which
by 1945 stretched to a.selection of 466 pages, the standard
is likely to be uneven, to say the least. Especially does
this strike the attention since his Collected Poetry is
arranged in the maddening inconsequence of the poems'
alphabetical not chronolOgical order. Yet even in his
swollen and motley collection few poems have no redeeming
verse or idea, though many must be judged as failures.

The bewildering extremes of the reader's response is well
recorded by Hoagart:
The reader who plunges directly into Auden's
work may well recoil from the variety and
force of the impressions he derives. He will
find competence and virtuosity, carelessness,
cliquishness and obscurity; interest in peOQle,
anxiety to reform and concern over the fate of
society; impersonality, clinical analysis and
drum beating; he will meet bOyishness succeed-
ing maturity, the formal laced with the idiomatic,
brilliant diagnosis succeeded by the slapstick

of a buffoon, contgolled exposition contrasting
with the slipshod.

 

5F. Scarfe, Auden and after (London, 1942), p. 38.

5a. Heggart, Auden (London, 1950),p. 13.

44
The particular failure where a brilliant diagnosis may
be followed by buffoon slapstick is a valid condemnation
of the clowning that is often Auden's undoing. It reveals
a fundamental error of taste. Consider, for example, the

parody of the old song, Frankie and Johnny. One of Auden's

 

verses is this:

Victor looked up at the sunset

As he stood there all alone

Cried, "Are you in Heaven, Father?"

But the sky said ”Address unknown." (Another Time)
p. 72.

That last line seems merely crudely silly, without its
contemporary reference adding anything to the serious issue
of God's absence. The ending of this poem finds Victor
made lunatic by his wife's infidelity; and the last line
is both absurd and even blasphemous in its context:

They tapped Victor on the shoulder,

They took him away in a.van

He sat as quiet as a lump of moss

Saying, "I am the Son of Ken." (Another Time),
p. 74.

 

In particular one has difficulty in analyzing Auden's atti-
tude to all this. The oscillations between the jeer and
the sense of compassion mesh tosether Very awkwardly. Yet
the poem simply entitled ggng seems to me an effective
example of the way in which Auden could wrench the song
jingle into sudden poetic impact. The poem attempts to
‘balance the conflicting views of love as eternal, joyous

yfflffiland the destructive threat of approaching age:

45
"Oh let not Time deceive you - - you cannot conquer Time."
The following are typical verses.
I'll love you dear, I'll love you
'Till China and Africa meet
And the river jumps into the mountain

And the salmon sing in the street. (Another Time),
p. 42.

I'll love you till the ocean

Is folded and hung up to dry

And the seven stars go squawking

Like geese about the sky.
This cheerful, brash, nursery-rhyme stuff alpears completely
trivial, but it is part of a "softening—up" process. Sud-
denly there is a sharply ironic twist which, while maintain-
ing the same jingling rhythm of the song makes a savagely

penetrating comment; the thrust the more effective for its

unexpectedness among such trivia.

O plunge your hands in the water

Plunge them up to the wrist

Stare, stare in the basin

And wonder what you've missed. (Another Time), p. 43.

0 look, look in the mirror

0 look in your distress

Life remains a blessing

Although you cannOt bless.
The flat, dry tone with its underlying bitterness records
Jumen}s shrewd observation of that time of introspection
in.the washroom. Here, for a moment, the daily humdrum
“tasks do not act as an Opiate to spiritual dissatisfaction.
Steudng pensively into the basin one is face to face with

tide reflection which returns a vision of the self's point-

lenss mess. The looking glass above the basin mirrors only

45
human distress. The superficiality of the tripping
rhythm proves to act as a device, disarming the reader
for the assault of the bleak vision of this mood. A
further verse reinforces this poetic statement. When
the contrast is made on the theme of love one has to
juxtapose the Jaunty "I'll love you till the ocean is
folded and hung up to dry" with the arid pessimism of
0 stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;

You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crOOKed heart. (Another Time),p. 43.

 

Auden repeatedly uses the adjective "crooked" to suggest
the physical deformity of the heart which has no capa-
city to love. Self id neighbour are linked in then“
crookedness, and this limitation of love receives the
effective counterpoint of scalding tears.

These verses begin to exemplify Auden's detachment;
that aspect of his verse which has often been called
"clinical". The standing-aside implied by his constant
preference for "you" and ”they" rather than ”I" sometimes
gives a sense Of objective comprehension, the perception
based on non-involvement. At other times one simply feels
the cold indifference of Auden's view, his emotion is
dispassionate to the point where it evaporates into dis-
interest. Wyndham Lewis Once sharply called him ”all
ice and wooden-faced acrobatics." Auden appears to have

songht this cold isolation, for spender reminisces about

4:7
conversations with him at Oxford.

Auden's early poetry also gives the
impression of an intellectual game --
a game to which the name clinical
detachment might be given. It is a
game of impartial objectivity to ...
all the forces that move through

hum lives.7

Thiseiement of detachment is a comnonplace in comments
about Auden, yet less regularly is a contrasting style
pointed out: a sensitive lyricism which might have develop-
ed further if his social conscience had not obliged him to
develop a rational harsh style to record his historical in-
dignation. Two examples of this inherent lyricism are com-

Paratively well-known, Song and Madrisal.
Lay your éeeping head my love
Human on my faithless arm,
Time and Fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral.
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful. (Another Time), p. 30.

 

A reading of this poem provokes1wo thoughts. First, one
perceives the unexpected tenderness of feeling which
flecks the more characteristic irony of this love poem.
Secondly, at the technical level one becomes aware of the

way this mood is reinforced by the rhythmic control. The

 

7S. Spender, fiOrld Hithin HOrld (London, 1951), p. 54.

#8
technique shows in the casual skill with which the
run-on lines and half-rhymes are used, but more signi-
ficantly and subtly in the rhythm. For example, "The
entirely beautiful" can rattle out at speed as if
under eager emotional pressure after the broken, halt-
ing rhythm of "mortal, guilty" has suggested the
hesitation at love's limitations. This poem also
records very honestly that sense of detachment that
exists in the heart of love. Ewen at the moment of
embrace the arm is ”faithless". This knowledge is not
based on the potential individual adultery; it is rather
the reminder that all loves with their implied promise
of forever can never achieve that eternal fidelity.
The time in which this promise can be kept is only "til
break of day." Love is tragically at the mercy of
change and "time and fevers burn away individual
beauty." Men unlike other animals must also suffer be-
cause they are "thoughtful children." Their self-aware-
ness and sense of the future makes them suffer the
truth that "the grave proves the child ephemeral." It
is this experience that lends the urgency in which the
poet records his anxious embrace by the breathless
rhythm of "entirely beautiful." That the lovers are
subject to time and fevers, that their love may remain

only till break of day, serves only to intensify the

4%

eager tension of this passion and in no way lessens
its significance. If the feelings are "mortafl'and
"guilty" they remain "entirely beautiful." Their love
can be total without pretending to be eternal.

A further example of Auden's lyric tenderness is
found in the equally famous Madrigal. This verse ori-
ginated as a song in Auden's script for a government

documentary film, Coal Face. The music was by Benjamin

 

Britten, who later collaborated with Auden several times.
0 lurcher loving collier black as night
Follow your love across the smokeless hill,
Your lamp is out and all the cages still.
Course for her heart and do not miss
For Sunday is soon Past and, Kate, fly nOt so fast,
For Monday COmes when none may kiss.
Be marble to his soot and to hisliack be white.
(Another Time), p. 80.
Again here the reader has an immediate appreciation of the
rhythm; the balanced lilt of the opening lines with their
alliterating "l" and the controlled hesitations of "and,
Kate, fly not so fast." Again too, there is the sensuous
mood and the overall tenderness of tone. The title in-
dicates the Elizabethan connection of the poem. One
perceives the Shakesperian pun of "course for her heart"
where the pun on "heart" allows the.hunting metaphor to
suggest love's capture. But with a typical Auden "double"

level of meaning, the pastoral tone is used as an ironic

counterpoint to conditions in the industrial areas. If

so
this contrast indicates on the one hanithe contemporary
inapprOpriateness of the pastoral love ideals, it also
suggests powerfully that the restrictions on human beings
imposed by the industrial system are more violently a re-
pudiation of natural life. In this poem the shepherd
lover is a miner, given a single day's respite while "the
lamp is out and all the cages still." He can temporarily
find a "smokeless hill" which may recall the countryside
before its sooty defacement. What will part the lovers
from this brief dalliance is the prosaic demand of MOnday
morning's pit siren announcing the start of a working week
when ”none may kiss." The last line may be perceived at the
purely sensory level; the colour contrast of soot and mar-
ble, of blackened body against fair white one. The miner's
dark body is literally sooty as the coal dust works deep
under the skin. The primary sense must be that the ugly
manual work has soiled a body that would in happier con-
ditions be marble. Marble, perhaps a little facilely, recalls
the Greek sculptures and their respect for the body's beauty.
The miner's dirtied and defiled body is a reminder of the
disregard of theaGreek concept of man's physical nobility
in the pits of Yorkshire and Wales. This brief day becomes
the only time when the sooty body Can find some temporary
identity with the marble ideal and the woman is invited to

offer him assurance that a world of marble exists amongst

54
a life of soot if she will ”to his back be white." Love,
even limited to a Sunday, is the reminder that there is
an alternative to a life of lamps and cages.
Where the verse exhibits none of this compassion
there is an ashen, sardonic tone. Thanks to the alphabeti-

cal arrangement,immediately after Langour Sleepingghead

 

one is shocked by a poem called The Ballad of Kiss Gee.
This poem uses the ballad form for a story in which satire
approaches the sadiStic. Spender rather mOderately calls
this Auden's "callous ballad." It begins in the traditional
story way.

Let me tell you a little story

About Miss Edith Gee

She lived at Cleveland Terrace
At humber eighty-three. (Another Time), p. 60.

 

Miss Gee is an unfortunate, deformed creature -

She'd a slight squint in her left eye

Her lips were thin and small

She had narrow sloping shoulders

And she had no bust at all. (Another Time), 9. 60.

 

One notices at once the absence of the slightest quality
of human sympathy. It has the same cruelty as of a child
jeering in the street. Miss Gee had her dreams of escaping
from her bedsitting room, and her "one hundred pounds a
year" to a glamourous ball at which she is the Queen Of

H

France. Her prayers that the Lord make me a good girl

please" propitiate nightly her erotic and Freudian visions

A

of a bull which "with the face of the Vicar was charging

52

with lowered horn." She develops cancer Of the womb. This
is announced by the doctor at dinner while he is "rolling
his bread into pellets." The internal growth is chosen
to make a specific reference to her failure to produce a
child; her sterile barrenness is contrasted with the eager
fertility of the tumor in her womb. The doctor's wife's
admonition "Don't be so morbid, dear" is ignored by Auden
as he continues his tale with Miss Gee in the hospital.

They took Kiss Gee to the hospital,

She lay there a total wreck,

Lay in the ward for women

With the bed clothes right up to her neck.

They laid her on the table

The students began to laugh,

And Mr. Ross the surgeon
he cut Miss Gee in half. (Another Time), 9.653.

 

This reads rather like Belloc's Cautionary Tales, but the

 

difference is that this lacks the nightmare enormity that
gives them their farcical humor. Auden presumably is not
trying to be extravagantly comic; he appears to be laughing
at the woman, and inviting the reader to Join in this urchin
glee at her misfortune. How can one explain the tone of the
last verse except as comidflW’sadistic.

They hung her from the ceiling

Yes, they hung up Miss Gee;

And a cOuple of Oxford Groupers

Carefully dissected her knee. (Another Time), p. 63.
Perhaps from the viewpoint of Auden's poetry we should be

more concerned with his total error of taste than the possibi-

lity of hisn perverse sadism.

73

A very similar tone is found in the narrative of

U]

James Honeyman that was deleted from the Collected Poems.

 

The Honeyman story (the sarcastic name pun is Obvious) des-
cribes in ballad style an earnest, plodding scientist who
has ambition without moral responsibility. He is nice, and
potentially lethal.

Said, Lewisite in its day

Tas pretty decent stuff

But under modern conditions
It's not nearly strong enough.

His tutor sipped his port,

Said, "I think it's clear

That young James Honeyman's

The most brilliant man of his year." (Another Time),
P. 164

 

Honeyman's situation is similar to the other inventor who
deplores his line of research while he continues to dev-
elop savage weapons.

The expert designing the long-range gun

To exterminate everyone under the sun

Would like to get out but could only mutter

What can I do? It’s my bread and butter. (Look,
Strangerl),
p. E7.

 

In the happy family contentment of Honeyman's suburban home
his wife, in equal ignorance, shares the ambitions of her
husband's research.

Said, "I'm looking for a gas dear,
A whiff will kill a man.

I'm aoing to find it

That 3 what I'm going to do!"

Doreen squeezed his hand and said,

"Jim, I believe in you." (Another Timex p. 164.

5%

In these lines even the tripping ballad rhythm has largely
broken down. The inevitable happens. Var is declared
and enemy bombers inexplicably carrying Honeyman's new
gas drop their bombs on his own family villa. As the
daughter chokes on the virulent new poison she cries,

Ch kiss me mother, kiss me,

And tuck me up in bed

For Daddy's invention
Is going to choke me dead. (Another Time), p. 165.

 

Auden's narrating voice is heard expostulating in the last

stanza.

Oh you can't hide in the mountain

Ch you can't drown in the sea.

And you must die and you know why

By Honeyman's N.P.C. (Another Time), Do 155.
The tone here is too crudely and unrelievedly sarcastic,
and the issues are presented in oversimplified black and
white. Auden's criticism is legitimate, it is doubly rele-
vant today, but I am not convinced that "you must die and
you know why" answers any reasonable question. The guilt
is too general and obvious. In this case one warmly
agrees with Auden's decision to exclude this poem from his
Collected Poetry.

It is possible to see these poems as an attack on the
inherent cruelty of existence,but Anden's moral neutrality

makes such.a.wdenunciation oblique at best. Beach declares,

The reader's revulsion against the
gratuitous cruelty of the poet's attitude

5s

towards suffering and insanity prevents
him from falling in wholeheartedly witl
the coméc (the clinical) view of human
nature.

There are Occasions when Auden Can use the ballad
form with entire success, when its theme is infused with
concern and indignation. In a poem abOut Jewish refugees
the traditional form is made irOnic and compassionate in
contrast with the vindictive jeer of the other examples.
Under the decisive condemnation of these lines one hears
the lilting rhythm of the blues.

The COunsul banged the table and said,
If you've got no passport you're Officially dead.
But we are still alive my dear, but we are still alive.

(Another Time), D. 85.

A

 

The comic "YOdre Officially dead” becomes a powerful
denunciation of bureaucratic indifference. Later the

song rhythm becomes more pronouncedly syncopated.
Saw a poodle in a jacket fastened with a pin
Saw a door opened and a cat let in
But they weren't German Jews my dear, but they
weren't German Jews. (another Time), 0. 85.

.-

 

Political concern has broken through the detached clinical
apprOach, and the description takes on a tone Of nightmare
hallucination that touches the imagination to the quick.
stood on a great plain in the falling snow
The thousand soldiers marched to and fro

Looking for you and me my dear, lookina for
you and me. (Another Time , p. 86.

 

 

8Beach, p. 250.

56

Such pOlitical awareness and social criticism based
on a knowledge of economic and psychOIOgical theories, were
the ideas which Auden shaped into the material of his new
poetry. Auden was more consciously aware of political ev-
ents than any other poet in his century. He seemed able to
write political verse with less strain and less damage
to his poetic style than unfortunate writers such as
Spender and Day Lewis, who found the obligation to re-
cord the social concerns of their age painfully at odds
with the instinctive lyricism of their natural poetic
voice. On Auden the mantel of the preacher-orator set
a little more easily, and did less violence to his devel-
oping style. Often indeed the themes he felt impelled
to record in his verse grave bite and ur; ency to his
fertile talent. Yhen he is successful the very savajery
of his tone gives his work its sardonic detachment which
contrasts nOtably with spender's occasional mushiness of
emotion. He was aware of the onnipresence of the poli-
tical pressures, and again and again in his verse the
history of the thirties makes an essential counterpoint
to his themes. Even when he writes poetry which appears
to have conventional subject; the political overtones of
this era are always made explicit. Two stanzas Of

A Bride in the Thirties demonstrate this juxtaposition

 

of love and history:

57

Summoned by such music from our time

Such images to audience come

As Vanity cannot dispel nor bless;

Hunger and love in their variations,

Grouped invalids watching the flight of the birds,

And single assassins,

Ten million of the desperate marching by,

Five feet, six feet, seven feet high,

Hitler and Mussolini in their wooing poses,

Churchill acknowledging the voters' greeting,

Roosevelt at the microphone, Vgn der Lubbeclaughing,

And our first meeting.

The ”music of our time" was the marching feet of the ever
more powerful emanations of man's violence and the shout-
ing adulation of the leaders who are to change the "single
assassins" into national armies. Against this advancing
disaster is set the wry asidaof their discovered love.

But if the present day historical perspective sees
the rise of the European dictatorships as the central
evil of this decade at the time,the first vital issue"
seemed to be the economic catastrophe, for the crash of
1929 had lengthened into the merciless depression which
lasted throughout the thirties. The depression caused
the immediate suffering which was in evidence everywhere
in the industrial areasoof England. The misery of the
unemployed seemed to haunt the imagination. A belief

that the economic system had totally collapsed pervaded

the decade with a sense of hopelessness. Only in Marxist

 

9This meeting incidentally was with Thomas Mann's
daughter, Erika, to whom this volume of poems is
dedicated. She later becane Auden's wife.

5'8
theory was such a phenomenon explicable and control-
lable. Like other intellectuals of this time Auden
embraced Karxism. It seemed a solution to economic
problems. fith this political system they absolved
their consciences by disassociating themselves from
their own bourgeois class which appeared indifferent
to suffering. Yet, although this was a temporary deci-
sion, it was perhaps a more serious and sincere one than
is sometimes supposed by critics today.

Not even Spender with his deep individual sensi-
tivity recorded the scene of the depression with a more
certain passion than Auden. his world constantly intru-
ded evidence of its disintegration. He describes,

Hearing of harvests rotting in the valleys,

Seeing at end Of street the barren mountains,

Rounding the corners coming suddenly on water.
(On This Island), p. 22.

 

\

Auden's accurate eye and bitter tongue 0 u;Lt in his
verse the devast‘tion society had wrought. His generation
had to live,

By silted harbor , derelict works
In strangled orchards and the silent comb

Where dogs have worried or a bird was shot.
(P091113 33), p. 87.

This sense of physical decay seemed not to reflect a mere
Keynesian depression, but the death of an industrial
society, and perhaps a nation. On another occasion he

described the same desolation:

~
w,
.1

I see barns fallinj, Iences broker
Pasture not ploujh and, weeds not wheat
The :reat hous s remain but Only half are inlab-

Eusty the 'unroon and th stable clocks stationary.
0—

some have been turned i.to ore" schools where the
diet is in the h ends 0‘ an exoeriencaimatron.

f
(Do: Fene- h the Skin), p. 12:

 

”What do you think about 3n;land, this country of ours

where nobody is well?" asks Auden, and in his famous

prOphetic lines of rhetoric he sketches the scene, echo-

in: the anxious vision of Tennyson's Lochsley Hall.

Get there if you can and see the land you were once

;rmfi'u3mm
hough roads have 31 ost var ished and expresses
never run,

Suokeless chimneys dahaged bridges, rotting wharves

and ch ked canals
Tramlines buckled, smashed trucks lyins on their
sides across the rails
Porer stations 100‘s. ed, deserted since they drew
the boiler fires
Pylons fallen or subsiding, trailing dead high
tension wires
head-gears gaunt on grass :rorn pit banks, seems

abandoned years agO. (Poems 5?),

Drop a stone and listen for its splash in p. 75.
the Cold dark below.

This is not only stagnation but regression. The ensi-

!'1 "

neered roads have almost vanished , and if the exDresse
"never run" the trans never will, for they are ”smashed
... lying on their sides acr0ss the rails." The water-
lOded mines are permanently abandoned and the dropping
Of the stone seems to sugfiest the same wo.dering tourist

trick encouraged by guides when visitors inspect some

S

6O

ancient building of ‘-known use. So much ensineering
effort to so little purp0se. The visitor scratches

his name, throws a stone and goes away musing upon

some remote folly. Destruction has turned upon itself.
The rhythm reinforces this description, its slightly
off-beat lilt acts as an ironic undertone seeming to
stress the deadness of the scene by contrasting economic
diSSOlution with its lively stress. In spite of being
so well known, these lines were firmly excised from the

Collected Poetry. 1teach, in his analysis of Auden's

 

later selection of poems for collection points to the
reason for its dismissal.

It is easy to see why in 1945 it was enemy

humber One among Auden's early DrOductions.
It is the most slam-bang fighting manifesto
in the gang war-fare between his own party

of xford radical and assorted types repre-
senting the decadent bourgeoisie.10

It was not only the economic system that attracted his
angry criticism. Like Spender, Auden observed the des-
truction that social despair brought to the industrial
population. Sadly he observes the scene.

Only the homeless and the really humbled

Seem to be sure exactly where they are

And in their misery are all assimilated. (Another T me),
p. 17.

 

 

loBeach, p. 65.

61
"The history of man" seems reduced to the dull glance
of invitation in a shOp doorway. Eercenary sex is seen
as the only way to purchase a moment's escape from the
frigidity of the heartless city. Sickened by the reali-
Zati on Auden snaps,
The behaving of man is a world of horror

A sedentary SOdom and a slick Gomorrah.
(Another Time), 9. 14,

ll

 

The adjectives ”sedentary" and ”slick" do not allow even
sin to assume any significance. Ee realizes too that the
danger is not in the major, violent sins, but in the
failure Of such nice peOple; the aimiable, hardwork n5
-Suburbanites. They adjust themselves so happily to
lives which seem to demonstrate no awareness of the
appalling limitations Of their existence. They live in

mindless ignorance of the evil that stands at the borders

(4’

of their life. These kindly, good, earnest, indus
rious peOple seem culpable for all their efforts to

understand a world remote from their honest but limited

 

virtues. The Healthy SpOt describes them. This poem

 

11 It is incidental to my discussion at this
pOint but I argue later that the sharp precision
of Auden‘s lines become Vague and diffuse in his
later verse. One example is his use of the Sodom
and Gomorrah reference again in the Age of Anxiety,
(9. 21). Note how the extension destroys the impact
achieved in his earlier lines above.
Our Zion is

A doomed Sodom dancing its heart out

To tricky dukes, a tired Gomorrah

Infatuated with her former self ...

62

was first published in the COllected Poetry so it is

 

not clear when it was written. It makes a definitely
social criticism. It is interesting to see the same
comfortable adjusters later (1944) condemned from a
specifically religious viewpoint.

Joseph and Hary pray for all

The proper and the conventional

Of whom the world approves. (For the Time Being),

p. 87.

The Healthy spot gives suburbia ironic praise.

 

They're nice - one would never dream of going over
Any contract of theirs with a magnifying
Glass, or of locking up one's letters - also
Kind and efficient - one gets what one asks for.
Just what is wrong then, that, living among them
One is constantly struck by the number of
EaPQY'marriages and unhap;y people?
They attend all the lectures on Post-War Proclems,
For they do mind, they honestly want to help; yet
As they notice the earth in their morning papers,
What sense do they make of its folly and horror
Who have never, one is convinced, felt a sudden
Desire to torture the cat or do a strip-tease
In a public place? Have they ever, one wonders,
Wanted so much to see a unicorn, even a dead one?
Probably. But they won't say so,
Ignoring by tacit consent our hunger for eternal life

that caged, rebuked, question
Occasionally let out at clambahes or
College reunions, and which the smokeroom story
Alone ironically enough stands up for.

(Collected Poetry), p. l34.

 

As a poem this is rather flat. There is a prosiness

‘ \

about the diction and awkward rhy hm that can only be

0

explained by suggesting Auden has not assimilated the
theme. his mood is slightly equivocal. The poem is

fundamentally an appeal for awareness; a reminder that

63

the homely virtues are not enou;h. is he has indicated

3
O
r
a
C)
C?”
O

earlier the avoidance Of the hnowledge of evil

acquiescence. The more penetrating and honest saw even

n

in the thirties that their freedoms and coaforts wer
purchased at the 00st of ign ring ”what violence is
done." Those "English picnics" are paid for by others'
sufferings.

And gentle do not care tolnun:
Where Poland draws her Eastern bow,
What violence is done;
KOr ask what doubtful act allows
Our freedom in this English house
Our picnics in the sun.12 (On This Island),
p. 13.

 

But in The Healthy spot his View begs the obviOus

 

question, does one have to dO a strip tease or torture
a cat in Order to understand ”Post-Mar Problems," and
the sneer in those capital letters is surely unjust.

Yet he is right to point out the dangers in the comfor-
table apathy that ignores ”our hunger for eternal life",
and amusingly shrewd to remind one that the cheerful

gatherings of men are the only outlets for people caught

in the rigorous social fetters of suburbia. That'baged,

 

12 Although Auden can literally refer to the
English houses here, it may be compared with
Spender's s‘mbolic use in '0 Young Ken, 0
Comrades", 'the houses your fathers built."

64
rebuked question" is urgent enough, but I doubt whether
it can best be explored in Auden's superior condescen-
anion. The tone is one that Auden came to exhibit too
Often,as I shall demonstrate later.

Auden saw, as did the other poets of his group,
that the new technoloay, which was suppOsed to introduce
the millenium once the capitalist follies had been cor-
rected by state planning, was itself a threat. Although
associated with the socialist cause, they realized, as
Orwell did, the implicit dangers in state control, the
destruction of the h manist virtues that they as poets
sought so anxiously to assert. The forces that best
challenged the economic despair of the thirties were
equally daiserous to the human heart. KacNeice explored

this situation in his impassioned Prayer Before Birth.

 

Auden with a sharper, more acid tone approaches the same
theme. The contrast between the titles of these two
similar poems makes a comment on the different natures
of the two poets. Hacheice's is an appeal, Auden's ex-
hibits hard sarcasm; The Unknown Citizen JS/07j31/378.
This poem concerns the citizen who finally achieves the
virtue Of becoming the ideal norm, the perfect statis-
tical average. In none of his actions or views did he
step beyond his established position of worker, consumer,

parent. He may be highly praised because he was a man

65
against whom there was no official complaint, "He
wasn't odd in his views" and ”he paid his dues".
As the virtues pile up the tone is rather unrelievedly
sarcastic. He holds "the proper opinions”, "when there
was peace he was for peace; when there was war, he
went." He is a man who precisely fits the desires of
psycholoaists, social workers and eugenicists. Clearly
the poem is built towards a rather obvious angry last
denunciation, but when it comes, although expected, it
has all the rhythmic bite of Auden at his best.

Was he free? Has he happy? The question is absurd;
Had anything been wrone we should certainly have

t.’

heard. (Another Time), p. 83.

 

The absurd uncomprehending enquiries of the bureaucrats
reverse in our mind to the only virtues worth seeking,
freedom and happiness. Both are regarded as comic devi—
ations fron the social norms of these "brave new world"

governments.

The themes of this poem and the Healthy Spot rein-

 

force each other, because if the statenents of the former
seem a little distant and exaggerated, those of the lat-
ter observe the same situation being brought about for
the best pOssible motives amongst the nicest peOQle
today. Loss of human individuality is the danger that
permeates our age, and warning notes sounded repeatedly

in the writings of these English pOets.

66

Chefurther aspect in Auien's poetry which is regularly
successful in extending the reader's perception, is his
sense of geoaraphy. He uses his knowledge to indicate
how geoEraphy and history merge to give an area its
contemporary significance. The politics are explained
in terms of the QeOQraphy. Nowhere is this technique
used more effectively than in Spain but it may be seen
in other poems. In Macao the pictorial description is
deepened by the sense of the historical perspective
that underlies the town's existence.

A weed from Catholic Europe it took root

Between the yellow mountains and the sea,
And bore these flay stone houses like a fruit,

k

And grew on China imperceptibly.

Rococco images 0f Saint and Saviour

Promise her gamblers fOrtunes when they die;

Churches besides brothels testify

That faith can pardon natural behaviour.

(Journey to a war), p. 22.

The simile of the European town planted on alien soil is
effective, especially with the associations Of Auden's
observation that in the political context this is a weed
unwanted but ineffaceable. Hong Kong, Goa and Singapore
are similar towns where Europe has tried to plant a foot-
ine on this antagonistic continent. Though they have ex-
panded they grow "imperceptibly" alien and insecure.
Europe has brought its morality, its religion and its

Sins. The 'weeds" flourish with the church and gambling.

67

Erothels stand beside the church both in ohysical
proximity and in their ”este11 spiritual juxta-

sition. Gaeblinf and brothels are the de rading
source of inCOme for all the free ports that perch
on the frin; es of this COntine 1t. There is further
ironic criticism in the word "nococc0" which describes
those fearsomely writhing blood- -s:neared Christs in
the more primitive churches. the notes that such
a figure as an idol wOuld have more appeal than the
abstract morality it re11esents. It is, in fact, this
image, not the church, that will "pronise", and so
the irony Of that promise is further developed. The
two stanzas link and one Sees hat this ChUIVCI within
its garish trappings is just as much an impermanent

weed beta een the mount: ins and the sea 5 are the

0)

commercial cities. Leither Can apQrOach beyond the
mountain where spiritual rejection by Asia' 5 unyie -din:
territory is exemplified by the geoéradhic mountain
boundary. That ran e limits Denetrati on from the sea,

.1

element doninated by the west. The laso line con-

i)
m

40'.
tains a treble barb: that the churches accept the
brothels, assuming the t the ey are ”natural”; that the

that botn church and

a.

na ural has to be >ard mned an
brothel emanate from the same alien western society.

In every aspect it is an indictment of European fOIly.

as

The scene does nOt have to be so exotic ahd frrei n

to draw ugon this geo:rapiy. In his impressive poem,
loch, stranger! Auden describes his own English coast.
The scene is a Cliff's edge presumably somewhere along
the chalk headlands of Kent or S1ssex.

Here at the small fields ending, pause

Where the chalk wall falls to the foam and its
tall ledges

Oppose the pluck

And knock of the tide

And the shingle scrambles after the sucking surf
And the gull lOdges
A moment on its sheer side. (Look, Strangeri), p. 19.

 

The technique here lends vivid immediacy to the scene.
The word "pause" standing at the end of the line com—
municates the abrupt edge as field gives place to th
sheer drOp of cliff. The onamatapoeic affect, although
rather commonplace in the style of Tennyson, is evoca-
tive. The repeated "chs" in "pluck" and "knock" suggest
the sound as the waves hammer at the eroded cliff foot.
The description is continued in the reiterated "s"
s0unds of "the shingle scrambles after the sucking
surf" which aurally reminds the ear Of the sound of the
rolling beach pebbles. After the scurrying wave nove-
ment there is the moment of stasis in the image of the
soaring dull apparently fixed in the sky, and this

silent picture is balanced by the slow syllables of

"where the gull lodges."

69

With this various and competent

ed during his early work Auden faced

issues of learned his

severe difficulty as he demonstrates,

technique develog—
the political

control with

when he later

asks, ”Can't I learn to suffer without saying; SOLlie‘bl’Lil’l:

ironic or funny about suffering?"l3

«
r14

in

('3

XJr—ssed

m

the love he had

was temporarily irrelevant to the challenge that

his generation.

We know, we know that love
Reeds
Needs

Death of the old gang.

The choice of

and yet if

how he felt that

1is occasional lyric verse

faced

more than the admiring excitement of union.

death, death of the grain,
(Poems 30), p. 66.

our death,

violence is now deliberate and inescapable,

Auden accepts this revolutionary necessity

he does not pretend to share the enthusiasm of the

young revolutionaries.

how little such violence can prove.

As a poet he sees too sadly

Jalhing home late i listened to a friend

Ta kin; excitedly Of final war

of proletariat against 901109 ~°°

Till I was angry, said I was

The mask between belief and word is in place,

sense of isolation is paramOunt:

 

13For the Time Eein: (London, 10

pleased.

(Poems KO),
9. C2.

and the

70

The blood moves also by crooked and furtive inches,

Ashe all our questions. Where is homage?

When shall justice be done? 0 who is against me?

Why am I always alone? (Letters from Iceland),
p. 25.

 

The loneliness also arises from the separation from love
that political issues apgear to force upon him. Ewen
where love lingers, circumstances have made it inexpres-
sible. In lines that make one recall his earlier apostro-
phes to his love lyinq by his faithless arm, he observes
the mutual solitude. In a similar way he accepts the
necessary guilt but records a sad tenderness.

The matter of corrupt mankind

Resistant to the dream that makes it ill,

Not by our choice but our consent: beloved pray

That love, to whom necessity is play,

Do what we must yet cannot do alone

And lay your solitude beside my own.
(Collected Poetry), 9. 45.

 

The issues raised by the phrase ”not by our choice but
our consent" were to be further developed in Auden's
later poetry where religion replaces politics as a
means of diagnosing man's ails. For the moment my con-
cern is more for the sense of lonely concern as Auden
faced contemporary Eurooe and the coming total war.

If nothing can upset but total war

The massive fancy of the heathen will

That solitude is something you can kill

If we are right to choose our suffering

And be tormented by an either-or

The right to fail that is worth fighting for.
(Collected Poetry), 9. 32.

 

71

The final war of proletariat against police may be a
subject for anger, but the issues are now clarified to
the point where something, albeit as nebulous but pre-
ciOus as "the right to fail", is now "worth fighting
for."

At this time the revolution in Spain broke out.
To Auden, as the other English poets, the issues seemed
challengingly clear. He volunteered for service, join-
ing an ambulance brigade, and while there he wrote one
of his major poems, Spain. In this poem the technique
forged by such varied and sometimes inexplicable experi-
ments in his earlier poetry was used to express a subject
so immense that the gimmicks fall way, leaving only a
superbly forged and tempered idiom. Technique was
harnessed to an impassioned sense of the significance
of the Spanish struggle. This poem, as much as any
single work, focussed and expressed the attitude of the
enraged intellectuals to the struggle in EurOpe. At no
time was auden cloSer to the Communist Party, but the
theme of this poem moves more widely than party-line
politics into an interpretation of the malaise Of the age.
The poem embraces the moods of Day Lewis' showy heroism,
Spender's powerful compassion, and Macheice's quick re-
portage and adds that intellectual comprehension which

forms Auden's own authoritative tone. History and geosraphy

72
merge in an analysis of the issues unequalled in this
time.

In Spain Auden attempts to cope with the whole back-
ground of human history, his attention widening across
past and future and focussing suddenly at the intervening
present. He exhibits his ability to hold history momen-

tarily still. As he explained in his Eirthda my Poem for

 

ChristOpher Isherwood he wanted to seize

the dangerous flood .

Of history, that never sleeps or dies
And held one moment burns the hand. (tn This Island),

 

p. 63.
History is translated into huian teins, political and
psycholOCical. Cnce the pattern has been establisha
Auden links it to Spain, seeing the fighting there as the
heart of contemporary history. The theme moves beyond
Soain to the future, but the poem ends back in 1937 with
the frighten ;n3 prospect of Munich and Eeptember, 1953 rein-
forced by the experience of the Civil War.

The first six vs' rses attempt a comoression of history,

fact and fiction, combining in ironic SGLWEI lization.
e

the
the

Yesterday all the past. The lergua e of si

Spreading to China along the trade routes;
diffusion of the counting - fr: me and
cromlech;

Yesterday the shadow reckoning in the sun.ny climates.

Yesterday the assessrnent of insurance by cards,
The divination of water; yesterday the invention
Of cart-wheels and clocks, the taming of

Horses; yesterday the bustling world of navigators.

73

Yesterday the abolition of fairies and giants;
he fortress like a motionless eagle eyeing the
valley,
The chapel built in the forest;
Yesterday the carving Of angels and alarming
gar oyles.

fa
‘IA‘

The trial of heretics among the oOlumns Of stone;
Yesterday the theolOgical feuds in the taverns
And the miraculous cure at the fountain
Yesterday the Sabbath of Hitches; but today the
struggle. (Spain), p. 7.

The invention of 'shadow reckoning in the sunny cli—

mates"

not only clearly begins the recorded history with
the kiddie East civilizations, but indicates that pre-
occupation with time which is the basis of history and

II

the theme of this poet. The idea is repeated in the

invention of cartwheels and clocks"

where time is coupled
with industry and the expanding of peoples. "The taming
of horses" led to major migrations, and this movement

was further extended by the discoveries of Rexnissance
Europe. The speed of "the bustling world of navigators"
contrasts with the earlier movements creeping slowly,
"spreading to China along the trade routes." at first
the next two stanzas appear to go back to medieval times,
but it is clear that they record another aspect of his-
tory. If the first two stanzas describe a world of
action, Of applied ideas, the second two concern religion
and morality. The legendary "fairies and giants" beloved

by the medievalist nive place to the religious symbolism

w

74
of "angels and alarming gargoyles". There is an under-
lying irony here in the contrasting pairs, reminding
us perhaps of the way Christianity accepted the myths
of the age with the good fairies becoming angels and the
wicked giants the devils. Yet the fortress on the rock
"like a motionless eagle" (Auden's renowned "hawk" sym-
bol again) represents the predatory power of military
order. It is offset by the chapel "in the forest”. The
chapel is not only away from the source of temporal
power and among the people, but draws strength from its
natural surroundings. The rise of religion was not only
a benign challenge to secular power, it brings its own
hierachic authority. Along with the beneficent "mira-
culous cures at the fountain" embracing all the Lourdes-
type inexplicable faith cures, went the persecutions as
Christianity applied its rigid orthodoxy. The new theoloSy
provoked the pointless debates of the ”theolozical feuds",
the persecution after the "Sabbath of Witches". Behind
all these stands the authority of the Inquisition and
its "trial of heretics." At this point, to remind the
reader of the swift ranging of history, auden for the
first time makes the flat assertation which is to gain
force from its ominous repetition, "But today the struggle."
Whatever history has decreed in other ages the present

duty is made clear and unqualified.

75
The next two stanzas are an evocation of the history
of the nineteenth century.
Yesterday the installation of dynamos and turbines;
The construction of railways in the colonial desert;
Yesterday the classic lecture
On the origin of ;ankind. But today the strug:le.
Yesterday the belief in the absolute value of Greek;
The fall of the curtain upon the death of the hero;
Yesterday the prayer to the sunset,
And the adoration of madmen. But today the strugile.
(5:22.211). 13. 7.
Auden compresses the development of the Industrial Revolu-
tion; "the installation of dynanos and turbines" and its

1

subsequent economic-notivated grab for Africa and the
Yiddle East-"the construction of railways in the colonial
desert." This was one element in the change of accepted
outlook caused by the pragmatic materialism of the cen-
tury. Intellectually it was only "yesterday" that ”the
classic lecture" and the acceptance of Creek was defended
as a necessary part of all education. The force of "the
adoration of madmen" is not clear, for if ever there was
an age in which this accusation could be made it was the
inter-war years far more than the past.

The aim of this summary is to develop the view of the
continuity and inevitability of history. As the traders,
supported by Christianity and developing industrialization,
led to the strugfle for colonial markets and the 19L? war,
so too this war directly initiated the rise of Fascism and

the outbreak of the fighting in Spain, which is now the

f

h

76
ocus of history.
Auden at th is point turns to the hung: in fig jures of

is time and sh ws the ar3fe throu h the views of the poet,

the scientist, and the ordinary man.

As the poet whispers, startled anon: the Jines,
Or, where he loos se waterfall singr s, 00';ngi ct, or
ILXitht
On the crag by the leaning tower:
'O my vision, 3 send me the luck of the sailor.‘

And the investigator peers through his instrunents
at the inhumm wirovince t;e virile bacillus

Ur enormous Jupiter finished:
'Eut the lives of my friends. I inquire. I in Mi .

And the poor in their firelessl _odgin§s, dropping
the shdeets
Of the evening paper: 'Our da,y is our loss. 0

show us
History the operator, the
Organizer, Time the refreshing river.‘ (Soain),p.8.

 

The poet is an anxious Keatsian fifure "among the pines"

a

sking only for "luck". The imafes are of the common

romantic nature type, but his vision nay be ominous and

i

S

t seems clear he will need his luck for the dangerous

cientist "peers through his instrument at ... the vifile

bacillus." Whether the ”virile" merely suggests the

0

presence of a killing disease or refers to germ wariare

i

s not eX'licit but his studies are "inhuman.” The

poet with his perception of human values can only ask

plaintively the unanswered Question about the total

e

ffect of these experinmnts, "But the lives of my friends

I inquire?" As always it is the poor who feel the

77

.. " .. .-. .3, . '. ‘ : . Hr." _ V . . i, “a-

greatest deprivation in their lireless lOdgian." ine
dropping Of the newspafer su fiests, in a phrase, their

indifference and boredom in the face Of world events

that threaten them, and the untidy squalor in which
they live. They pray only for "history the operator,
the organizer", for some slick, determined solution
to their frustration; a irayer which led to the other-
wise inexplicable growth of Fascism in Europe. Auden
sees the violence of nations as the result of their
peoples‘s crude demands.

And the nations combine each cry, invoking

the life

That shapes the individual belly and orders

The private nocturnal terror:

'Did you not found once the city state of the

sponge,

Raise the vast military empires of the shark

And the tiger, establish the robin's plucky

canton?' (Spain), p. 9.

There is scorn implied in the visceral demaids of the

G)
*‘5
cf.
:34
(D

belly. From such urges states are formed; eith
"vast empires of the shark and the tiger" with their
savage power, or the smaller areas of "the robin's
plucky canton." Both reflect the urge for an order
that will quell "private, nocturnal terror."

at this point there arises a classic example of
Auden's anti-climax, the failure of judgment that pro-

duces pathos; the casual writing at the most critical

moment. Life or God is asked to intervene to solve the

perplexing issues of this time.

'Intervene. C descend as a dove or
A furious papa or a mild engineer; but descend.‘

And the life, if it answers at all, replies from tre
heart
And the eyes ard the lungs, fr m the s‘ ops and
tie square es of tLe city:
'0 110, I an not the hover;
hot today, not to you. To you I'm the

'Yes-man, the bar-companion, the easily-duped;

I am.whatever you d0. I at your vow to be
Good, your humorous storr;

I am your business voice. I am your marriage.

'fihat's your propoaal? To build tn just city?
I will.

I agree. Or is it the suicide pact, the romantic
Death? ery well, I accevt, for
I am your choice, your decision. Vec I an pain.
(Spain), :2. 9.

Whatever lo;ical explanation.cmedrawsfrom the furious
Papa, and the mild en Mineer nothing can diminish the flat
foolishness Of the first impact of th -e ima;e. Under some
circumstances such a phrase could be wonderfully ironic
and absurd. one could imagine it used succes Hll in a
different context. But there is no evidence of ironic
intention here. It just seems ridiculous and ina‘Op nowari te.
But after this lapse be; ins tr e powerful rhetoric of the
middle section. Life "if it answers at all" denies that
it can or will supply the quick, ready-;nad e solution.
Human responsibility cannot be thus absolved and from

the very visceral centers from which the belly cry first

came, from "the eyes and lungs it answers that it is all

things to all men. It meets every demand from the need

 

IO

79

for the acquiescent listener to the innernost lon;in:s
of the self. "To you I'm the yes-nan, the bar companion
... I an whatever you do. I am your marriage.” This
section runs the gamut of moods, the mock—heroic irony,
the humorous, the pretentious, authority of the lee
statement, ”I an Soain. One has observed life finding
itself in every area of human need; now for this time,
it identifies itself with the Spanish struggle, and in
so doing, links all its associations with Spain. If
Life is "your choice and your decision" then so too is
Spain, for in this struggle one makes a chOice. Jhether
one believes that in again it is possible to found the
Communist utogian vision of the "just city"14 or whether
it appears nothing more than a Quixotic decision of sui-
cidal romantic heroism, makes no difference. At this
time Spain can be both of these things for like life it
offers everything. This is the nature of its call to
Europe in 1937.

The poem develops a rhythmic rhetorical lilt as Auden
announces the appeal of Spain's call to arms.

hany have heard it on remote peninsulars,

On sleepy plains, in the aberrant fishermen's

islands,
In the corrupt heart of the city;

Have heard and migrated like gulls or the seeds of
a flower.

 

14Thst Auden supplies ironic capitals to this
"Just City" concept in his COIlected Poetry
version (p. 183) is typical of the alteration
of tone he achieves by minor emendations.

 

80
They clung like burrs to the long expresses that
lurch
Through the unjust lands, through the night,
through the alpine tunnel;
They fIOated over the oceans;
They walked the passes. All presented their lives.
(Spain), 9. 10.
The men who were to form the International Erigade were
gathered from across Eurooe. Even the city's "corrupt"
heart seemed moved by this call to a crusade. The images
that mark the decision to come to this fight are ima3es
of life not of death. The gulls' migration, the movement
of the flowers' seeds (continued in the "burr" comparison)
are parts of a positive cycle of natural growth. They
suggest the same inevitability and the same fruitfulness
will motivate the soldierS' support of the cause. If the
rhetoric becomes a little artificial here; if the repeated
balance of the "through" phrases seems a contrived orator's
trick and the last clause, as sentimental as Brooke at his
weakest3I can only plead the circumstances which redeemed
the sentiment by the sacrifice. The repetitive phrases
also serve to render the repetitive clackings of the trains
over the rails, which from all directions bring men to
Spain,making it the geo:raphical as well as hisbrical
cynosure.
This geOQraphic focus that makes Spain the center of

the routes across Europe brings Auden, in the next stanza,

to express the geosraphic significance of Spain using the

81
technique that makes such an effective poem of Macao.

On that arid square, that fraament nipped off from

hot Africa, soldered so crudely to inventive Europe;
on that tableland scored by rivers,

Our thoughts have bodies. (Spain), p. 10.
In describing the physical shape of the country Auden can
demonstrate the intermediate position of Spain, linked to
africa by its Moorish connections and yet part of EurOQe.
In a developed image derived from metallurgy he calls
Spain "that fragment nipped off from hot Africa." This
visual image describes its narrowed shape to the South-
west where it appears the welders' pincers cut through
at Gibraltar. Besides COntinuing the metal—working image
in the suggestion of metal heated before being wrought,
it tells of the climatic link between Southern Spain
and the desert heat of korth Africa. This fragment is
soldered (the word extends the metal's working metaphor)
to Europe, and this is done "crudely" which produces

two levels of information. The idea of the awkward

\

botched join reminds One of the physio 1 configuration of
the jagged PyranéES which marks the dividing boundary
with France, ani reinforces our knowledge of the lack of
racial amalgam caused by the roughness Of this 30in.

The link is "to inventive Europe" and the adjective is in-

portant. At first it appears to mean only a continuation

of the theme of the historical stanzas; the spread of

European techniques and industry into Africa. Eut clearly
Auden is also thinking of the ideoloaies which EurOpe is
so fertile in creating. These invertive policies are the
Fascist and Communist creeds that surmount the crude
mountain barrier and come to Spain for theiririal in battle,
brought into the country by the men on both sides who

have "migrated like gulls." In Spain the theories are
made active and real for in Spain "our fever's menacing
shapes are precise and alive." The ”fever" of change that
rages in the blood of Europe is Auden's description of the
violence of the thirties. As a fever patient often has
hallucinations and dreams, so too these horrors of Euro-
pean international events mi ht have been thought to be
sick fancies of the diseased. how the nightmare is fact,
for what were the "fevered shapes" of apparent delusion
are no longer nebulous but "precise and alive" in Spain.

This last line was rewritten for Collects: Eoetry

 

in order to cut out two of the most crucial stanzas of the
poem. Clearly Auden felt that his response was too crude-
ly left-wing and political to suit his post-war Christian
synthesis. There seems no possible reason for the elimi-
nation Of these stanzas on poetic or stylistic grounds.
They show some of Auden's rather glib catalOEues, and the
rhetoric is a little sentimental, but these are not faults

that have bothered him unduly elsewhere. Obviously it is

83
that direct assertion Of the "peOple's army" with its

suggestion of working class communist militancy that is

to be firmly excised.

On that table-land scored by rivers,
Our thoughts have bodies; the menacins shapes of
our fever.

Are precise and alive. For the fears which made
us respond
TO the medicine ad, and the brochure of winter
cruises
Have become invading battalions;
And our faces, the institute face, the chain
store, the ruin

Are prOJecting their greed as the firing squad
and the bOmb.
Mfidrid is the heart. Cur moments of tenderness
blossom
As the ambulance and the sandbag;
Cur hours Of friendship into a people's army.
(SEC-Bin ) 9 p0 10'
In this version Auden links the issues in Spain more
clearly with the social fOllies Of the time. The pana-
ceas Of patent medicine and dream escapes on exotic
tours are both representative of the false search for
release from the Obligations of the times. The standard-
ized conformity of personality and economics, deplored

by Auden in his The Healthy Spot, is accused of being

 

the cause of the Spanish horrors of "firing squad and the
bomb". They are the resulttof the preoccupations and
disinterest that allowed the rise of Fascism in EurOpe,
for they show the consequence of putting immediate

greed before future safety. But if the greed appears

 

15These two lines had to be reworded to cover the
hiatus caused by their excision in the Collected
Poetry version.

 

A.»
'1)

 

 

84

as the firing squad, in contrast the true self-sacrifice,
”our moments of tenderness" create the other side of the
Spanish events. They demonstrate the generosity and sacri-
fice that sent Auden and Spender into the ambulance corps
in Spain,and sent Wintringham, Fox, Cornford, and Caudwell
to their deaths in "a people's army". But for bOth ex-
tremes "hadrid is the heart", the center of all feeling.

From this fighting in Spain one can perhaps see the
shape Of the future envisaged by "our fever". At this
point Auden begins to look forward as he talks of tomor-
row, beginning diffidently and anxiously with "Tomorrow,
perhaps, the future".

Tomorrow, perhaps, the future. The research on fatigue
And the movements of packers; the gradual exploring
of all the
Octaves of radiation
Tomorrow the enlarging of consciousness by diet and

breathing.

Tomorrow the rediscovery of romantic love,
The photOgraphing of ravens; all the fun under
Liberty's masterful shadow;
Tomorrow the hour Of the pageant - master and file
musician.

The beautiful roar of the chorus under the dome;
Tomorrow the exchanging of tips on the breeding Of
terriers,
The eager election of chairmen
By the sudden forest of hands. But today the struggle.16

 

16This stanza too was excised from the later version Of
of the poem. There may be some poetic justification
because it is dreary and repetitous in a weak section.
But the meeting is hardly democratic with its Open
ballot by show Of hands. It recalls a soviet, or a
controlled trade union rather than a democratic utopian
system. Auden may again have deleted a too openly
Marxist incident.

85

Tomorrow for the young, the poets exploding like

bombs,
The walks by the lake, the winter Of perfect com-
muni on;

Tomorrow the bicycle races
Through the suburbs on summer evenings: but today
he struggle.
(Spain), p. ll
As Auden's generalization had covered the past, he now

makes a series of evocative uesses about the future.

Somehow these stanzas are less successful. The vision

of domesticated utopia seems harder to sustain than the
powerful political rhetoric earlier. Berhaps it is sim-
ply that perfection alwavs seems a rather dreary and
moral prospect. There are elements in iuden's vision
which are characteristically arrogant, foreshadowing later
views. First there is the scientific developnent, ”the
research on fatigue”, an: the motivational research of
large scale economics in the packa;ing industry. IeitLer
Of these, one would imagine, would gratify hunahist Auden
as a Vision Of the future. The development Of spiritual
contrOl presumably by some form of yo:a is an experiment
that has appealed to many; Aldous Huxley for example. In
the mouth of Auden one is forced to conclude that he is
paying casual lip-service to such an idea, or that there
is an underlying irony in his vision. Such a conclusion,

although tempting would totally undermine the tone of the

rest of this poem. It is really hard to take his vision

.e..

u/-

 

(A

8.

straight. It does not even show tie heroic hag iness en-

visioned by the crude party hacks. This cuestio“ of ton—

alsO becomes more suepect in the "fun under Liberty's

erful shadow". The masterful" is a curiously author-

(.0
(1)
cf"

m
itative adjective. The raven ghotoCraohr seems totally
inexglicable, an“ the pageant master and the musician

Call to mind only a.child's festival. It is a curious list,
‘and the associations of "jun" ring stranfely. if on the
one hand the young can look forward to the resurrected
pleasures of "romantic love" and "perfect connunion",
there is also a future of bicycle races. 1 an very un-
happy about this element. It may be merely a lapse into
homey cheeriness; it sounds a good healthy proletarian
sort Of activity that would be illustrated in ”social
realism"art. Without meaning to be trivial, Auden pedaling
in a cycle race is a somewhat conic picture, and if this
is his version of a socialist future one yearns for some
capitalist decadence. This society allows the poets to
explode "like bombs" but whether this absurd simile sug-
gests an eruption of creative brilliance is hardly clear.
These stanzas seem to be Auden at his weakest, the hollow-
ness shows, and the surface confidence will not conceal
the silly emptiness of the idea. It is only a short stage
better than his earlier vision of a hygenic utopia described

in the following doEzerel lines!

S7

Xe shall build tonorrow
A new clean town

With no more sorrow
Jhere lovely geoole walk uo and down,
We shall all be stron;,

He shall all be young. (:

 

But from this boring vision of Connunist Oara’ise
Auden snaps from reveries to the sharg reminder that
"today the struggle". This shelves the question of
future society by demanding action. The last three
stanzas are a reassertion of the issues in Spain,
demonstrated with that powerful confidence that can
be so effective when nuden is involved in the situa-
tion as he never was in those bicycle races.

TOday the deliberatel7increa

se in the chances
of death,
The conscious acceotance of guilt in necessaryl7
murder;

Today the expending of powers
On the flat ephemeral oaaohlet and the boring
meeting.

Q)

TOday the makeshift consolations - the share
cigarette,
The cards in the candle-lit barn, and the
scrapilg concert,
The masculine jokes; today the
Fumbled and unsatisfactory embrace before hurting.

 

17In the revised version the increasing chances of
death are "inevitable” rather than "deliberate",
and "the necessary murder" becomes "the fact of
murder". Both of these alterations back away from
the principles of Marxist morality by substituting
more bland and acceptable wording for the overtly
Communist fact. Crwell's criticism obviously
applies better to the earlier version. Auden's
second version is anOther example of his evasion
of his original acceptance of Marxist ideas. He
does not challenge; he merely tidies up.

88
The stars are dead. The animals will not look.
We are left alone with our day, and the time is
short , and
History to the defeated

May say alas but cannot help nor pardon. (Spain),p. 12.
The first stanza here can refer to events in Spain, or
to the reactions of sympathetic intellectuals at home

"ephemeral pamphlet"

who would be busily producing the
and speaking in the ”boring meeting". But the acceptance
Of guilt seems to suggest a more personal association with
the fighting than a nominal determination to overlook some
of the more obvious atrocities of the Republican soldiers.
meell chooses to assault Auden and the other intellectuals
with an attack on this stanza which exhibits all of his
engaging passion and bias.

The (second) stanza is intended as a sort of thumb

nail sketch of a day in the life of a good party

man. In the morning a couple of political murders,

a ten-minute interlude to stifle "bourgeois remorse"

and then a hurried luncheon and a busy afternoon

and evening chalking walls and distributing leaflets.

All very edifying ... Er. Auden's brand of amoralism

is only possible if you are the kind of person who ‘8

is always somewhere else when the trigger is pulled.‘
This is unjust to Auden, who had managed, as often as Orwell,
to be "where things happen". It is also a misinterpretation
of the poem. Rather, Auden is carefully listing exactly
what the present must be if this cause is not to be the
defeated. He is managing to avoid the concern about means

and ends at this point. The next stanza shows a very clear

personal experience of the front line of this war. Auden

 

18George Orwell, Such Such were the Joys (New Yorkl.
1953, p. 184.

89

records the cheerfulness and the friendliness that so
often appear to be among the most vivid memories Of
troops in combat. The sense of brotherhood was doubly
strong in this volunteer army so international in its
recruitment. The simple soldierly sense Of comrade-
ship was found in "the shared cigarette ... the masculine
jokes." Even in the face of this temporary friendship
Auden can see no real hope. The final verse is sympath-
etic,even compassionate, but it is bitterly realistic.
"The stars are dead ... we are left alone." God has
withdrawn and man faces history which owes allegiance
to no ideals, it merely records impartially the success
of bad or good. We may deplore the downfall of Greece
or Rome; future generations may be more appalled at
the success of Fascism, but History is indifferent.
history is not a record of constant prOgress and it can-
not change any regression which it observes. If History
appears sympathetic it cannot participate, "History to
the defeated may say Alas, but cannot help or pardon."
The defeated remain the underlings no matter the right-
ness of their cause. The strong win and history cannot
release the defeated from their‘punishment.

It is interesting to observe in view of the fact that
this is the climax to the poem, that such a statement
would be anathema to orthodox Coanunist theory. It

appears to deny the principle of the historical inevitability,

of the victory of the Marxist proletariat in the class
stru;gle. History is suppOsed to be clearly on the side
of the working classes - anything but neutral.

Per haps this verse is more pessimistic in retro-

1".

id not pardon and

Li!

spect for one knows that ristory‘

"

Fascist armies were victorious. it the time the poem
stood as a warning of the need for action, but it avoids
any heroics, any illusive hoge. Auden has seen the
issues with scrugmlous detachment. But in his pOem,

\r‘

such is the dejree bi nuicn's concern for the issues,

the detachment does not suggest in any wry tie icy indif-
ference to human fate that one deplored in his earlier

ballads. Rather such a position enables him to achieve
a more comprehensive viewpoint. Auden was in Spain,
but in some sense this fact is irrelevant to his verse
Of the time in contrast to Spender's poetry on Spain.
pander had to be there to share the experience which

he recorded in his compassionate verses, auden -xtracted
from the situation the vision of history. Spender when
he praised the quality of Auden's Spain remarked:

The poem is the outstanding example of political

poetry written in the 1930s. It is a serious

attempt to conform to a political orthodoxy.

Yet the poetic lOgic of the writer's thought

brings him to a point which he obviously finds

untenable, from which he retreats maediately,
and which he has never returned to.1

 

l9stephen Spender, The Creative Element (London, 1953)
p. 150.

 

91

Some or the most perceptive criticism of this poem
is found in an essay by R. Mason. He supports my view
that besides its merits as a poem it is crucial in any
examination of Auden's poetry, and in its capacity to
focus the ideology of his decade. Mason writes:

When Auden wrote S sin in 1937. he achieved

in one considerab e utterance the stature of

an important poet with the powertn give ar-

resting artistic form to tge instinctive appre-

hension or his generation. 0

My argument is that the Spanish War was such.a signi-
ficant event that it purged away the verbosity and false
cleverness or Auden's writing, leaving only a trained,
experienced technique, harnessed to a great social con-
cern. Meaning controlled technique in a way it had too
rarely done in Luden's earlier writing. As Mason continues:

Before 1937. Auden's embittered social cons-

cience lacked adequate roots. Spain refined

away from his art the expansion and irritat-

ing wooliness. It gives swidence in every

line that his poetry was at last being inepir-

ed by the condition 8f men rather than the

condition of Auden.2
This last sentence seems to me particularly perceptive.
It is the weakness of Auden's development that soon this
new humane perception was to be ignored. In 1939 there
was the escape to America, and with it the return to the
anxious exploration of ”the state of Auden". The change

was further emphasized by his preoccupation with his

20R. Mason, "Auden” Writers of Today, D. V. Baker,
edit. (London, 1956), p. 2 .

 

92

newly discovered religious beliefs. The new spirit
re-exposed the weakness inherent in Auden's poetry;
the redundancy, technique as an end in itself, the
glibness and the avoidance of feelinfi. But none of
the doubts that one may have to express in estimating
the quality of his later poetry can alter bOth the
historical and literary impact of Spain, 193 .

Before he left for Arerica Auden wrote a number
of significant and passionate poens in which he endeavored
to warn an indifferent pOpulation of the dangers of their
myopia in the face of conteaporary history. Perhaps more
than any Other poet Auden expressed that sense of

' 1 q 71
gotterdammerung that hung line a cloud over Euroye. ne

 

had a nightmare Vision of the totality Of human emnity.

In the nirhtmare of the dark
All the dogs of Europe bark
And the living nations wait
Each sequestered in its hate.

Intellectual disgrace

Stares from every human face

And the seas of pity lie

Locked and frozen in each eye. (Another Time), p.93.

 

He translated this emotional horror into imagery {
that was personal, and even apparently trivial, and yet
his gift was that he could make this individual routine

awareness universally significant. In The witnesses for

 

example, he uses the images of cloud over garden and the
threat of rain which are in themselves very commonplace,

but he suffuses such metaphors with a sense of ominous

93

threat.

#e‘ve been watching over the garden wall

For hours

The sky is darkening like a stain;

something is 30in? to fall like rain

And it won't be flowers. (Doe Eeneath the Skin),

p.18.

That "we” should have included everybody but it refers
predominantly to the intellectuals,for so many tried to
ignore the dark sky in the passive hOpe that it would
somehow pass by if they did. Again and again Auden
attempted to strike through this shell of protective
apathy to warn.

Seehers after happiness, all who follow

The convolutions of your simple wish

It is later than you think, nearer that day

Far other than that distant afternoon

Anid the rustle of frocks and stamping feet

They gave the prizes to the ruined boys. (Poems 33),

p.o .

"It is later than you think ” is rather a truism but it
is linked with pecuharly English concerns. The proapects
for the future so pompously orated at Speech Days in the
snob schools are "far other" than was anticipated, and
the ”ruined boys" have to meet issues that contradict
their training. Those who saw the future in terms of a
search for happiness now find other prospects and ones
that, however unpleasant, are sonehow caused by this

' is a

desire. "The convolutions of your simple wish.‘
reminder of the complexity of issues. Auden makes

quite clear that the selfish desire for a personal

94

appiness is not so simple and becomes danEerous in this

:34

decade of responsibility. Again Auden links the niddle-
class environment to the international scene. Earlier I
noted the country house garden wall and then the prize-
giving at the Public School; now it is the snug sea-side
resort that is over-shadowed by approaching war.

It is tine for the destruction of error

The chairs are being broufht in from the garden

The sunaer talk stOpped on that savage coast

Before the storms, after the guests and birds.

In sanatoriums they laUthéSS; and less

Less certain of cure; and the loud nadmen

Smile now into a more terrible calm. (Poems 33),;.65.

 

here the political decisions of preparin
deliberately humanized into the preparation for the sbrms
Of winter. "The chairs are brought in fron the garden.”
The chairs becone a s? bOl Of the casual happiness an;
freedom Of the summer days and "sadder talk". Guests mi—
grate like birds, others have to face the storms that are

to come. The country, dis used with economic and social
failure, is a senatoriun and with war approaching people

are "less certain Of cure”, and ”the loud Madmen" the negle-
haniac leaders, ”smile", the raison d'etre of their regimes
is approaching. The tranquility of their calm is ”more
terrible" than the screaming and ranting of the lunatic
rages in which they had so often threatened the peace.

There is,too, a less specific assOciation here. The

world of sane men is contemplatina such madness that the

r.-
v

95
mad smile to see it, knowing they cannot equal its lunatic
folly.

The warning note comes too often for it to remain
pure and direct. Inevitably, some of Auden's less
attractive features crept in the hectoring tone and the
failure of taste: Lines such as

They're all in a funk but the daren't do a bunk.
(Orators , p. 94.

or
Drop those priggish ways forever, stop behaving
like a stone

Throw the bathpchairs right away and learn to
leave ourself alone.

(Poems :1 , p. 16.

How one would like to tell Auden to 'drop those priggish
ways forever." Here is everything that is poor in his
writing: the unpleasant gusto and the scoutmasterish
tone. The adolescent desire to shock in "leave yourself
alone" is sadly obvious. But with the same rather trip-
ping rhythm he goes on to write the following powerful
lines that seem to haunt the memory of 1938, and echo
powerfully to us today.

If we really want to live, we'd Egttgr start at once

If we don’t it doesn't matter, but wexd better start
to die. ( oems ),

De 0

"It doesn't matter" is a piece of mere bravado. As Auden

demonstrated by his action over Spain, the choice mattered

e;-

96

very greatly, and if such issues can hardly be reduced
to this absurd simplicity of alternatives, no subtlety
can alter their fundamental accuracy. A choice could
still be made=dnd it is important that Auder shOuld in-
sist on this blatant fact. He Lay perceive the complex-
ity of moral issues; he can be cynical in the face of
fuzz:r idealism, but he asserts that there is good and
bad. Hot all ideas can be blurred by the preVarications
of the theorists with their pretense at seeing all sides
of the question:

But ideas can be true, althOugh men die

And we can watch a.thousand faces nade active by

one lie
And maps can really point to places

there life is evil now;
Ranking; Dachau. (Journey to a War), p.274.

 

It was on this truth that the poets of the thirties took
their stand. It was not an argument to be discussed as
an intellectual abstraction but the insistence that cer-
tain political ideas were not just theoretically unde-
sirable but produced actual "places where life is evil
now." The abstractions of the maps do not conceal that
the horrors of Dachau do exist. The "lies" of these
regimes cannot only be challenged by an intellectual
assertion of their falsity, for each lie is supported

by "a thousand faces"; not men, one notes, just faces,

the nameless armies who lend power to the abstraction

97
called a state. Lne recalls hecneice's zombie vision of

"a lethal automaton, a thing with one face” in Erayqr

\T'l

efore Birth.

 

Auden saw this world and he saw it justly. he saw
the cowardice and indifference of the era. He saw the
contrast between the triviality and the horrors. He asks
us to remember.

T} ini: in this year what pleased th e dancers best

flen Austria died and China was forsaken,

hanihai in flames and Teruel reteken.

rel ce out her case before the world "Partout

l y de la oie". Anerica addressed

1 n | _ , H

he GBPtLl, Do you love me as I love you.
(Jouiney to a Jar), p.280.

H *1! (n:
b‘

'1

F.

The scornful tone of this is created by thejpxtaQOsifibn
of the heartbreaking and the trivial. Its anger is per-
haps ne gative, but Auden was able to make one positive
assertion of his views before he left to take up resi-
dence in the United States. It is one of his most famous
verses. Kothing could be nore revealing of Auden’s new

intellectual dishonesty than that when he came to Ofier

his Collected Poetry this crucial stanza, a dramatic

 

plea and a glorious declaration was simply drooped without
com ;ent or apolo y.

in Septenber l, 1939, the day on which the invasion
of Poland marked the beginning of Jorld Jar II, Auden

wrote the following lines:

q“. ‘ . 1 1H ”4...— . H ..a ? .lew..4JJ..ul..sh.hIAI.n‘a
... e

a.

98

All I have is a voice

To undo the folded lie

The Romantic lie in the brain

of the sensual man in the street,

Anithe lie of authority

fihOse buildings grooe the sky.

There is no such thing as the state

And no one exists alone

Hunjer allows no hoice

To the citizen or the police

fie must love oneanother or die. (Another Time),
9.100.

 

,5

This is the sunuary of a decade and the poet's final
realization that "all I have is a voice.” Tith this
voice Auden has to attack the multiple concealed lies
of his era. Perhaps one should make this assertion

1

in the past tense for Auden's degarture for America

“\

announced that he was abdicatin; from he position of

sooKesnan he had held for a decade. With the metaphor

K4
)... A
m.
,5

of "the folded lie" Ant suggests the way the lie is

concealed inside a more prepossessing exterior, and

whether his lie is the Romantic one that man is only
totally an individual, or the lie that supoorts the state's
authQDity by averring that man is onl‘r a social animal,

is irrelevant. Eoth must be equally challenged. Tiis
brings the poet to the supreme Daradox which he juxta-

pOses, "There is no such thing as the state, and no one

exists alone." We are all Dart of tn— human race but to

call this the state, to suggest that the sta

3

Jernany, has a.reality above the individuals who conoose

it and is an entity-which can denand service and sacrifice

1.1%

 

1 VM. I

(if; ..me

... It 2.4:... ...}, ......W‘

Hv

is dishonest. This is the lie Of authority. nui er
allows10 chOice” .:nd whether we interpret this as the

:ressure of populations on inai eouste resOurces in poor
COuntries, Or see it rcther in its rider meaning of all

the multiple hun;er: of Ian is irrelcvcnt ior the choice

izens and oolice which Auden uses to sug-

(D
"S
C 3
[..J.
Ct

is cl..g

_.' c. .1. .2 —..,‘ 1,, r. . .- - \i .3 ‘i . ,
vest alj.‘the IV; iiicswnrois nu. eel .unu‘";i~s i..icii chigose

q .7 I: 1" 4 A p-‘ aux-A . 7 , -.~ ~m J- “r.
nationally, both have to realiz that their urvivsl

depends on identity and unitv. fie just ”love One another
«J u
or die", and never has this declaration seemed more aggli-
able tJ:?-L3,L’1 110W.

ways “a“ Auden's val edictiOn as he left for tie States

Linton. 'qc

H.

at this crucial tine in EL: end's h storv. John Lehnsnn
indicates that Auden had i‘arrrtlr m.ade this decision when
he had visited the Unit States while returning frcn

China with Christopher Isherwood.21 But to many he appear-
ed to be fleeing from the cyclone thich he had predicted
for so long. His departure for Anerica brou ht hon. ls of
def ation from the overeru ht e.cuic of an England

QOised at the brink Of war. Auden was a coward leaving

the side d.o .rgi. Auden

(I)
I...)
(7)
CF
ct
g.»
i 1

to escape the war; he we
had written earlier:
To throw a.ra3r the key and wall: a: ay

Not abrupt exile, the n ighbors asking why,
BUt fOlIOW ; a line with left and ri ht

 

‘

ClJohn Lehmann, The a.isperi a Gallery (London, 195:)

p. 308. ’

130

‘

An altered yradient at another rate

Learns more than maps ugon the whitewashed wall

The hand gut up to ask; and makes us well

Without confession of the ill. (Poems 30), p.26.
He seems to assert here the necessity for a decisive
seoaration and it confirms that his escape was not
away from the frustration and poten ial danger of the
EurOpean War; it was a deliberate and definite decision
based on a goetic deternination, a desire to extend his
writini On the lines of his chosen ambitions. his com-

ing to Anerica was not a negative escage, but a positive
choice. He wished to free himself from the literary

set-up which his influence had done as much as anything
to create. He had anticipated this discoveryV£nen from

Iceland he had written:

For Europe is absent: this is an islsid

and therefore a refu e, where the fast

affections of its dead may he bought.
(Letters from Iceland), p.o.

 

Cyril Connolly records a conversation he had with Auden
in 1947.

He reverts always to the same argument,
that a writer needs complete anonymity,
he must break away from the Eurooean
literary hapgy family ... in an anonymous
metroland such as Lew York isolation is

a position from which one can observe and
yet not be ca15ht up.

He had talked in xactly the same manner to Macheice.

 

I- . !.. .. - .
220. ConnollW, intrOduction,norizon XVI (octoser,
1947)’p. l4.

 

101

The explanation he gave me seems reasonable
Anough, that an artist ou ht either to live
where he has roots, or where he has no roots

at all; that in England today the artist feels
essentially lonely, twisted in dying roots,
always in Opposition to a grouo: that in Anerica
he is just as lonely, but so, says Auden, is
everybOdy else. With 140 nillion lonelies
walking rOund him he need not waste time

either in conforming or rebelling.23

The old Auden wish for "clinical detaChment" is still
sought and this is thought to be no longer possible in
England. As he later remarked:

The attractiveness of America to a writer

is its Openness, the lack of tradition - in

a way it's frigatening. You are forced to

live here as everyone else will be forced to

live. There is no past, no traditions, no

roots - that is in the European sense ...

But what is happening here is happening

everywhere.2
His View makes an interesting contrast with the search in
England, by T. S. Eliot, for a tradition that his native
America lacked. But Auden sought his inspiration in
"this raw untidy continent where the commuter can't for-
get the Pioneer." Perhaps a little pontifically he writes
again of his view of the importance of America to his

writing:

More even than in Europe, here,
The choice of patterns is made clear

 

23L. MacNeice, "American Letter; Horizon I
(June, 1940), p. 464.
24Quoted by Benjamin Appel in "The Exiled Writers”
Sat. Review Of Literature, October 19, 1940.

 

102
fihich the machine imposes, what
Is possible and what is not
To what conditions we must bow
In buildinfi the Just City now. (New Year Lett;r),

 

Puttinf aside temporarily one's doabts about the
wooliness of Auden's Just City, this is an igportant
assertion of "what the machine imposes. This "machine"
is not only the technology of society, though this is
included, but the whole ideolOgies by which we live.

He live in an Americanized world, where EurOpe, Australia
and even Japan measure heir prosperity by the degree to
which they have achieved their own anxious parody of the
American style Of living. It is in Ahcrica that Auden
searches for the undiluted essence of the social issues
that must be faced and solved. hot that he expects any-
thing as facile as a solution; rather an attempt to dis-
cover the precise limits of the "conditions we must bow".
Yet at first his response to America seems to be despair,
a despair extended by the events Of the last ten years.
Immediately after his arrival he wrote in loneliness:

I sit in one of the dives

On 52nd Street

Uncertain and afraid

As the clever hopes expire
On a low dishonest decade. (Another Time), p.98.

 

This retrospection is doubly poignant, for the "clever
hopes" (the adjective has become totally ironic) which

expired on September 1, 1939, were his Own.

103

1

Soon after his arrival he took the opoortunity while

reviewing a new volume of Ellie's poetry for the iew
Republic, to defend himself azain against the attacks to
which he had been subjected in England. With a detachment
verging near indifference, he attempts his self-justification.

[This is.) not a, denial of the importance of

political action, but rather the realization

that if the writer is not to harm both others

and himself, he must consider and very nuch

more humbly and patiently than he has been

doing, what kind of person he is and what may

be his real function. Yhen the ship catches

fire it seems only natural to rush importantly

to the pumps, but perhaps one is only adding

to the general confusion and panic. To sit still

and pray seems selfish and unheroic, but it may

be the wisest and most helpful course.29
fihat a contrast and even repudiation of the attitude he pro-
pounded those few years ago when he had gone to Spain and
China. This renunciation was part of his IOss, and the
5e05raphical distance makes England seem so remote that
it ap9ears distant in time too, recalled only as a memory
of childhood; far from his present maturity.

England to me is my own tongue,
And what I did when I was young. (New Year Letter%
1:). )2:

But it is impossible to repudiate consciously heritage, and
his English origin and background remained the roots onto

which he grafted his new American experience. Constantly

 

29W. H. Auden, "Poet in Wartime” flew Republic (July 8,
04 - r: 1
l/ O), 90 J90

134

 

I can out thirk our talk in terms

Of images that I have seen,

Ard *lcland tells me what we mean. (few Year Letter)
p. 54. ’

And again:

Whenever I begin to think

About the hwman creature we

Rust nurse to sense and decency

in English area cones to mind

I see the native of my kind

As a locality I love. (flew Year letter), p. 55.
Such affection regained in spite of his decision to cut
himself from these roots, and America brought its Own
problems. Uith a direct personal tone, all the more
heart-rending since it is in such contrast to Auden's
usual air of brash self-confidence, he reveals illuminat-

ingly how his first months in the States were affecting

him

some think they're strong, some think they're smart
Like butterflies they're pulled apart,
Anerica can break your heart
You don't know all sir, you don't know all.
(Collected Poetry), 9. 203.

If butterflies sugfiest, a little romantically, the gilded

.9

transient beautv of poetrv the "pulled apart” with its
.1 J 9

description of thespoilt child tearing off the win s of

the insect in thoughtless cruelty defines the result of

11333

American anti-intellectualicn on the poet in exile. Per
he saw some similarity between his state and Voltaire's in-
dustrious cultivating of his garden. There seems an

aPJrOQriate identity in a stanza of Voltaflxaat Ferney.

135
Eoth the hum or and the sel1-b ittle ent seem relevent to

9‘ r: ‘ ' . J- -.
au1en s situatlo-.

Cajoling, SCOldin , sohenin ,
He'd lei the other chil3r an i: J .
3“ainst the irfa nous :erL -uos. (Another Tine),
r\ .‘S
L.

everest of them all,

0
3'.) l-4

 

In the la;t stanza he de escrib s Voltaire tM king in old
age Of the need for his iric ve1s es to Offer tLe solution

of rational truth.

so like a sentinel he could not sleep. The night
full of wrong
Earthquakes and executions. Soon he woul d be dead.
and still all over E1rooe stood the h orriole nurses
Itching to boil their children. only his verses
Eerhaps could stop thes: he must Co 01 woiaih .
Overhead the unconplaihirg sta“s composed their
lucid song.

(.0

’4

L):

o sentinel iuden

(D

Nothing could be closer to t;

Y" .L. V

aurOpe and the be-

H)

with his acute and horrifying vision 0
lief that "all I have is a voice.” :ut alas his withdraWal
was more fundanental,flnre of an avoidance of "earthquakes
and executions" than Voltaire's exile. Auden did not

chooae to offer his verse in an attempt to "

stou them.
Rather he preferred to renain safely out off fron the fallen
world by the protective window. He chose tne role of an
interested spectator at an aquarium; attentive but unwil-
ling to intervene.
I have watched throu»h a wind w a Jorld that
is fallen,

The satin? and malice of wen and ”beasts,
The corporate greed of cuiet ve etation,

and the homesick little obstinate sohs
of thinvs thrown into beinj.
I VOUld file‘ly IO? 6 (ife 0f drxietv) 3.31.

 

gge last sentence echoes scrOss Auden

4-, . 2, 'n r— -1 -. —~ , ~+ -~~ 4. ~ 7-
tihg when he is iolced to contetglace tLC Jest he tnce

.L 2.

But Iron 1 erica, before tie dejeneretion of his

‘ ‘1
}__J

into polysyllabic verbosity, and his beliefs into relig-
ious Hus si- t sticis 1, there was one more major Does.

A. 3 . i

It was Jew Year's Eve an aooen 17*

£11
(7‘

een away from Europe
exactly three sonths. Inevitahly there was a soient of
retrospection as he reconsidered and evaluated the decade
that had been so reflected in his writing. In what hay

be the swan-SONS of Auden the liberal Lusanist, he

wrote in Jew Year Letter, "Tonight ashranhli

 

ends."
Who, thinking of the last ten years
Does not h€CP howlin2 in his ears
The Asiatic cry of gain

The shots of executinj Spain

See stunblins throu n his outraged mind
The Abyssinian blistered blind,

The daz d uncomorehend in; stare

Of the Dsnuoian despair

The Jew wrecked in the German cell
Flat Poland frozen into hell,

The silent clumps of unenployed
Whos e arete has been destrOyed

 

And will not feel blind anger? (Sew Year Letter),
p. 26.
Here is a sumsary of the crimes ofthis lecsde:

Japan's attack on Nanchuria: the Spanish Har: the Italian

lO7
assault with mustarfi gas on the Abyssinians: sustrian
suppression; Iazi Jew-baiting and the last attack on
Poland which created hell, the international war. he-
calling these events Auden feels ”blini an er and this
should be our own response, but the adjective is s'gni-

H‘...‘

ficantly chosen. fihen one feels slini enter” J‘

the

reason and 10310 are taking seconfl place, one is com-
mitted to action. There is the clear assertion tha the
issues are no longer intellectual ones; in the face of war
one recalls Auden's assertion, "fie are conscripts to our
age / simply by being born.”

7

The agony Of :uroie's ihuefiiate past continues to

oppress his, made more painful by being linked to his
own sense of failure.

Upon each English conscience lie

mwo decades of hypocrisy,

And not a German can be proud
Of what his apathy allowed. (Lew Year Letter), 9. 26.

 

But Auden makes clear in this poem that he now sees the
cause Of events, not in the sarxist concegts Of unchal-
lengable currents of history, but in the apathetic and
acquiescent hearts of men.

The yreat Erotic on the cross

Of Science, crucified by fools

Who sit all day on Office stools

Are fairly faithful to their wives

And play for safety all their lives. (Keg Year Letter)
0. O.

‘

 

These mediocre pathetic figures are flagellated by

Auden's scorn, and yet he knows that the system does

108
much to make them so defeated. On every side he sees
the paucity of fulfillment Offered by the economic sys-
tem. If war-time boom has released the unemployed from

their enforced idleness the machine imposes” its own

ruthless discipline. The sight of ”man captured by
his liberty" is clear to every glance.

BOys trained by factories for leading

Unusual lives as nurses, feeding

helpless machines, girls married off

To typewriters, old men in love

With prices they can never get. (Jew tear Letter),

 

There is extra irony in the imagery here. Auden
associates the ideas Of nursing, marriage, love with
the actual facts: factories, typewriters and prices. In
this juxtaposition he shows the sterile falsifications
of noble impulses, distorted by the economic system.
But again Auden returns to the inescapable assertion of
individual responsibility. he condemns those on the side
of the rulers who

Protect their privileges still

And safely keep the living dead

Entombed, hilarious and fed. (Sew Year Letter),
9. 62.

 

The ruled however, complement the bosses' urge fOr

Power. These from "the wrong side or the‘Wachs" are satis-

rfied with their oppressed state for they are;

Poisoned by reasonable hate,

Are symptoms Of one common fate

All in their morning mirrors face

A member of the governed race. (fewfear Letter),
p. 02.

 

109
The class battle implied by the rulers arguing
"at cooktail parties as to which technique is most

effective in enforcing labor discipline" is reciprocated

W

by the resentment of the employed, both being driven by
the fear "Of all that has to be obeyed." BOth frouos
are also united in their individual arr05ance, their
consciousness of superiority:

But still each private citizen

Thanks Sod he's not as other men.

0 all too easily we blame

The politicians for our shame

And hired Officers Of state

For all the customs that frustrate

Our Own intention to fulfill. (Lew Year Letter),
p. 02.

 

The condemnation is clear, for events are only the
reflection Of the individual will and the pOlitical
governors are themselves the governed for they are ”impo-
tent if we decline responsibility," Auden sees that even
the most ferocious power-seekers merely gratify the yearn-
ings of the common man:

The politicians we condehn

Are nothing but our L.C.K.
The averafie of the average man

K-

Eecomes the dread Leviathal. (Kew Year Letter),

10. 63.

 

Auden had previously often su;gested the obvious
connection between the apathy of individuals and the
horrifying violence develOping in Europe, but he was

noving beyond a general admonition to act against looming

‘V

.L . . L. 1.. » 1 ° - 3» -'~«
isaster. LOfl he Chan es his standpoint

'3
L4

internation21
to assert that this evil is not only, nor even priharily,

J. ‘-

c on political EySbGL out is

}._'4

BC 011 C)

(+-
h—‘
D
‘5
m
’1
,C.
H
c}-
O

t.
C
D

In this poen it seems to he are some of the first
evidences of a viezsoint that arises frog “11 n con-
version to a strictly Christian theolo;y. Above all h;

- .L‘_- .2. . .r:- : .n _ - , 11,-. 1-, l .1. -
8352.6“ts the inherent sense 05.. L161 egt 1.2-4.011 610.61.018

through nan's act In his poen to Lreud he makes a

(1)

similar reference.

{An have: :2'.i at evil is: nfifi.g1 Ive thoujht
Le d that mist be punisiee, eat nu: ltd; of fg1t3.
I: ur 4‘ Jgent all tie tin

IL

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'3‘“ " nvr "’-— . Fh 9v.\. . "" 'L.‘ v'fi‘ -‘\ G
The left—1.1.1w ezm-ut 12s ngjflh1130blfated inch 01

his 3 tter Doetry between tLe were, arelnlnr replace; oy

a more orth ox tl1eology. As Kojqart puts it:

‘he lost strikinfi characteristic of the
onsilera ble body of work which Auden has
groluced in Anerica is that in all of it,

whether in poems, general esssgs, critical

articles, reviews or lecttres, —nd what-

ever 1118 Ostensiole subyect, lie discr sees

religious belief. his most inportant

creditors - as important as Freud or Marx

earlier - have been Kierkegaard and Lieouhr. 26

VA change of soirit which becomes predominant in his later

poetry is for shadowed here. Lines such as these that

 

lll
follow could never have been written by Auden even three
years before 1940.

How hard it is to set aside

'Terror concupischncenghci pride

Learn who and where and howxe are

The children of a modest star,

Frail, backward, clinging to the granite

Shirts of a sensible old planet. (Lew Year Letter),
9. 29.

 

fie're free to will
Ourselves to rurgatory still,
Consenting parties to our lives
To love them like attractive wives
Whom we adore but do not trust. (Xe: Year Letter),
?- 29.

 

And again,
In tine we sin

But time is sin and can forgive
Time is the life in which we live. (Jew Year Letter),

In spite of the obvious difference one nicht almost
be forgiven for muttering "Eliot?" as one reads these
lines. There is the sane repetition of theolOgical terms,
the preoccupation with sin and time, the concern with
free will and Purgatory. Of course, there is still Auden
in the jaunty "granite skirts” and the wry humor of the
simile of the attractive wives, but a clear intellectual
change has been effected. It is doubly important to note
it here in its early stage because it is a preview Of
what is to be the predominating theme of Auden's later

verse. One might compare the above quotations with, for

1' 1.1 .n j.
- ilCL.~ e“- L .-

 

bit the sane sOiritual conde.1at_o1

We would rather be ruined then changed.

fie would rather die in our dread

Than climb the cross of the moment

And let our illusions die. (Tk1e L e of Anxiety),
9. 134.

 

It wOuld not be unfair to consider hew Year Letter

 

as tr e last note in Auden' s liberalism. The course of
events has cut back into the very material of poetry it—
self and he feels only doubt:

This languafe may be useless, for

HO words Of mine can stop the war

0r measure up the relief of it
Cr its inneesu1aole grief. (Lew Year Letter), p.27.

 

Poetry is "useless" for it failure to be politically

(0

effective. And he faces the future with fear and horror.

The evil and armed draw near

The weather smells of hate

And the houses smell our fear

Death has opened his white eye

And the black hOle calls the thief

As the evil and armed draw near. (E eTin— Being),
3 OPS)t

 

U‘O

As "the evil and armed draw nea n," Auden attends to the

reform Of his soul.

u,

.A similar note of moral despair ha pervaded the

 

long poem, In Time of fiarjpublished in his 19 39 volume

 

on China,Journey to a War. In this poem the theme is
the same dismay and concern. The material exhibits the

denunciation Of conditions, but the tone is pessimistic

113
and despairing for there seen; no alternatives to the
folly.

history eXQOses its grief to our buoyant song:
The Good blace has not been; our star has warned
to birth
A race of promise that has never proved its worth.
(Journey to a War), p. 271.

 

The pre-war hope is lost in the face of universal
disaster and the despair has cut acr0ss even the tempo-
rary achievement of the past for the human race has ”never
proved its worth." This is a deliberate rever al Of the
implied praise of the Spanish Jar volunteers to the
International Brigade. how the pessimism veers back
into the past, denigrating even that achievement with
its despair. Auden sees the issues are the sane at
this point as they were ten years before. If this is
true and nothing had been achieved, muchves attemgted.

Who can estimate the effect of the efforts of those who
strove in Day Lewis' humble words, only to ”defend the bad
against the worse?" Auden seems to be ready to with-
draw from the struggle unless he can find the comfort

of an arbitrary cause that allows him to measure good
against bad in satisfying inflexibility. Thus even when,
as in the following lines, the diagnosis remains as
characteristically assured as ever, the assertion that

the issues are still the same seems to fill Auden with

an apathy from which he can express his feelings in no

more violent terms than disapcointaent.

...

114

(11:?

the 0 me.
ea sides;

881168 81::

is Jen,

the epoch of the

is

The First was the collap

T ose yawnin: magistrate

h ~ w. ’ D — v‘ e .
ocue uniioris are new,
out the campaign con-

the ruly fiunen.

Thi Great Diss??01ht'
alent
thz‘t slsve- o'rnin ’

empire

~fi
..-

SQ

asked, ”That is truth?"
(Journey to a War), p. 292.

 

Tiiat series Of capital letter

of false es>has is but

4'-“ \‘u ‘5
u all;

C’)

bored in his minor colonial a

crete. But, if "the issues

response is not. He sees tLe

and sees it characteris tics ll

history; the develogment of c

very heart of fihen

the figure of
ppointi

are

3 is su;gestive of the

"‘ 9
I‘l-
.-

lste,

.‘4.
EIAU

s vividly con-

'7
*-

the same,” clearly Auden's

sick decline of his world

y in the paffer'f‘dl driwfe Of

cience tr 9t cha lenged the

ROI 1e declined

 

v"f‘ \ . " 1': I "a -‘ n "'I Y ’ "I u'. a!“ nfl‘ .‘ " A
Loan its ruins rOse Lne glgiLlJ wisicle churcnes
gen canped like touiists unier their tremenisus
sheiows,
United cy a co; on sense of human failure.
Their c;-rt:in Ln“'rlca e only Of tge ti1eless fielis
Jhere the *ncnnr'in” Kao?inegs receives the faithful,
And tne eternal 1i Lt ;‘12re waited to devour the
doubts s.
(Journey to a fur), 9. 292.
This certain, uncLengin; aitLoriteriarisl USS destroyti by
the curiOSity Of enquirin; sinus
In whicn‘ a host of workers, famous and 0L oscsre,
.eanin: to do no more than use tLeir eyes,
'2'- 4- 12'" v x“ '3 v —‘.- r' J- a o a: -. -‘. ‘- ‘ .5 ‘ r‘ ;«‘- ... ‘ .
LOU ssila'hi -0 ‘(uulut b1.€;.r v.1.» , Jewell &¢:.3_3€-l CEllef.
(Jon; ney to 3 Ear), . 292.

 

ll

U]

4.

Eat in its clace 9 neutral uyini star,
Ihere Justice couli not vi it.

k‘J
f.)

«...: - 3. up. ., m. ~ 9 -‘ -.«L -° + - , __
Goes and evil n91e nos nGCq.€ re LT icy. orolitv 9n

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.° ,fl ., 3 J. 1 - "7 "‘ .‘ _'.'I . . .
ind neitner DELlEl nor jus

fm9u tration the more total because of tne 9p99r ent liveli-

ness by which it is motivated.

lever before was t:

e ‘ntelli erce so fe‘
The Eesrt more stunt T

o

o

l r l

9 ‘Le Lum9n fieli we

hostile to trotner 9 and feeling like 9 forest.
rney tozalkffi, p. 2Q}

The stur tei Lesrt in the fertile intelli; enc is a sL9rp

(.0

penetration into the nature of our society for tneue issue
h9ve not chsn;ed though "sone uniforn are new. LIT be-

comes only 9 brittle pointless quest for s9 isisction:

,. - ‘. ..‘ .1. ' . J ~ -i - 9.- J. a. 9.. .
4e wander o; tne eaitn 0. er“ row ted to ted
9. .- z- , - -.fi 9. ‘1 ~ - 1-
.Lil 883F011. Cl. 10‘; ; , ' i c; ? ... l‘fee ‘3' .:. #3? L146

 

They all lived in 9 moment of history w1en from all

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In Germany now loudest, 19nd “i

Where the 39 o 319i ns are liLe 9 sounoing rOstrum.
(Journey to 9 ""391'), p. 294.

 

They exist in a world where ”only the man benind the

rifle had free will." The corruption is both national an no

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~ '_; . . ”A
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(Journey to 9 mgr)

 

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fitL all tLe instrugents for Causif“ 99in.
(J0MflM?rtO 9 fer),;x 27o.

 

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Yes, we are goin‘ to suffer, not-r; the sky

Throes liLe a feverish forehead; pain is real;

The gropinf sec :rch ::‘ts suddenly reveal

The little natures t1 t will maze us cry.
(Journey tOgg'hmfl, ;u 273.

D

 

-1.
...:
r‘1
(D
Q)

In their world they ”carry terror with them ll
vurse, fixed in ”the fresent's unopened sorrow." Eut
Auden moves beyond tn‘ e mere assertior of inevitability.

Lis lines oi le uo es en indictmeit Of the very pOssibility
of a human solution.

Eotning is given we must find our law ...

We have no destiny assigned to us ...
We are articled to error ...

q

and will never be perfect.

The last lines are pessimistic and helpless. Lost
love, Oppression, error, pain, these are the lot of n9n

wno "will never be perfect." Even if this belief has to

be sanowledged Laden chooses to mske it the basis for a

117
moral passivity which will destroy the very will to

change. Concern moves its point of focus from external
event to the corruption of the inner heart. It impli-
citly suggests that the evil of political events can
only be solved in the individual soul rather than in
society. Auden moves further towards a vision of the
world and human spirit anticipated in an earlier prayer.

Not Father do prolong

Our necessary defeat.

Spare us the numbing zero hour

The desert long retreat. (Poems :1), p. 110.

One source of this abdication is the acceptance
that the only alternative to Fascism is the admission
of a purely Christian determinism. In New Year Letter,
(Page 52), he had already pointed outthe necessity of
choice. "As out of EurOpe comes a voice compelling all
to make a choice.” In.a new poem printed in Collected
Poetry Auden describes the pressure of events on the
heart and the choice that is offered. But he presents
the choice in such a way that it allows no hesitation
if one admits his antithesis.

And winds of terror force us to confess...

We are reduced to our true nakedness:

Either we serve the Unconditional,

Or some Hitlerian monster will supply

in iron convention to do evil by. (Collected Poems),

p. 120.

One's chief concern is the partial identity in the

unquestioned allegiance demanded by the Unconditional
and the Hitlerian Monster.

118
Auden’s later poens, besides demonstrating a czange
of style, continue to exhibit his change of spirit too.
As Bhilip iahv observes:
Auden neglecting his splendid {ifts as
satirist and observer of the external
world, has gone to school to Kierkegaard
and Earth only to emerge as an exponent
of stylized anxiety.
Typical of the more vicious wording of a similar attack
is Thompson's version:
Auden had surrendered to negation and
despair. He emerged in 1945 as a sort
of unauthorized literary amanuensis of
a Kierkegaardian. The courageous indi-
vidual Ilene burning in despite of a
seemingly incomprehensible and evil world,
has become an acquiescent prayer.2
Auden seems to move away from his previous human-
ism to a kind of theolOQical fascism. One hesitates
to use such a crude term which has been misused to the
point where it is virtually nothing but a form of abuse,
but there seems no better word to designate some or the
less attractive features of Auden's ideas. Even in his
earlier poetry there were certain unpleasant tones; I

am thinking of his ”scoutmasterish" bossiness, his air

Of superior k owingness and all the slick arrogance of

 

27Imege and Ideas (Kew York, 1957), p. 179.
282. P. Thompson, Out of Apathy (London, 1960),
p. 153.

 

 

119

his writlns. Juch Of this spirit is contained in the

revealingly constant repetition of images Of the hawk,

1 29

the ea’le ani the a.irr an. These symbols all su: est

superiority; their independent freedom in an environ-

ment unhindered by the earth's limitations. They are

literally above and beyond other men.

dne can select examples at rar don 1ron his eailier

poetry.

Consider this and in our time
As the hawk sees it or the helmeted airman.
(30ers 3§), p. 8 .

Overthrown nOL, in for an hour from the desert
A hawk looks down on us all; he is not in this,
Cur kindness is hid fr'm the eye of the ViVid

creature. (Cn Tlis Isle na ),
i). 3:.

One ooserves that kind less is invisible to Auden's hawk.
The hawk / leader identification LEGO; es more specific
as a theme in the folloHrin; li

From stars where hestrels hover
The leader looking over
Into the happy valley. (Boers 34),

l

o. 44.

A

 

d produced
.e Orators,
.‘e are regalcd

29 His preoccupation with the airman he
the absurd ”Airman's alphabet" in Ti
(9;. 48—51). In tweity-six verses
with such information as,

Engine -- Da rline of desL ners
1d dirty dragon
and revolvin. roarer.
Tstic}: - rivot of power
and resgond.;r to pressure
and grip for glove.

v
.10

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t;ese figures are jsinei with the plutocrats.

Engines b:;r t en throuflq the s‘1iy
And lSOthi“ if_he the very rich
and ssvmnts. (Journey to a War), p. 273.

 

1he c:llecti on becomes ominous with its connection

3".’J-

:1 1 ,1“ - J. ‘ _. .7 ‘ - x ,
Oi tne 163463, the MngvSf

U

pilot,

' 3
L1
be
rD
0
d
I..lc
O
c -
a
(+-

the plutocrats and the intellectuals. These vegu
suggestions become concrete in the repeated request

for a l

(D

: a H 1.3.: .1: Fm,» ,. .... ..° ...“.
auer, the unquestioned co nahl r, Lho will lea1

his devoted followers. 13»ects of t11s v1er seen to
have been held at bay since the political events of
the thirties so clearly dezanded a compassionate and

decisive liner alien. After his experience in Spain,
traumatic but vague, Auden S€€ds to have given up

I
.18

I-x"

the struifle to retain humane sympathy, and
natural intellectual arrogance is given free rein.
When one thinks of the compassionate liberalism that
made the thirties tolerable, the following lines are
deplorable, and no explanation of them as meaningless
song jingle can negate the very explicit subject matter
of these jigging sheltonics.

And see wliat they're at - our proletariat ...

Dyers and Bakers

And boiler- -tuoe makers

Poop and ponces

All of them dunces

Those over thirty
Ugly and dirty. (Crators), p. 94.

121

If this has any meaning it is a sneering attach itplyinr

VI

the contemptible nature of ordinary men. This is car-

,-

ried on in the repeated appeal :or a leader in the lines,

2"an O 7N11]. S “V6 ?
Who will teach us how to behave? (erators

It is possible toirace elements of this incipient
fascism in much earlier and suPQOsedly left-wing wri-
tings. It has been commented that the plot in the
famous Craters is more like a fascist coup organized by
schoolboys than a coniunist revolution. hote the odd
mixture of silliness and schoolboy toughness in the
follOwing typical instance.

.a penetrating b mbardment by obscene telephone

messages ..

Shock troops equipped with wire cutters ...

SQanner and stink bombs penetrating the houses

by
infiltration, silence all alarm clocks, screw

down the bathI‘OOLJ ”taps and remove plugs
Paper

"l
1

Q.

from the lavatories ...
All who fail to obtain 99% make the supreme
sacrifice. (Orators),
p. 72.
Now the all-powerful leader myth gets tied to a less
schoolboy view of policies. Although there is clear

irony intended in sections of Connentary beginning

 

"The state is real, the individual is wicked," it is
largely the sarcastic capitalization of the theme words
that makes us so certain Of the ironic tone Of lines
like

Leave Truth to the police and us; we know the Good;

122

He build the Perfect City time shall never alter.
(Journey to a figs), 9. 294.

 

Auden's new theoloyy would find a place for sentiments
such as these.

Auden's COnversiOn is said tO have been started by
some of the things he witnessed in Spain in 1937.
SOender says that Auden went to Spain to Offer his ser-
vices as a stretcher bearer with an aabulance unit and

returned hone after a very short visit Of which he never
1

 

spoke.30 But in his essay for “Odern Canterbury Pilgrihs,3
Auden insists that part of his shock was caused by the
sight of the churches closed by the Regublican govern—

-

ment.33 This awoke him to the disCOVery of his own
religious feeling. He was reminded that his home atmos-
phere had been strongly Anglo-Catholic and his childhood
religious memories remained fresh. Even the writers
who influenced him during his agnostic years after

Oxford, Lawrence, Freud, harx were, he insists, Christian

heresies. At this moment Of religious discovery he met

 

30Stephen Spender, florld fithin Horld, p. 247.

 

0\

31Edit. J. Pike, Eew York, 195
32Roy Campbell, incidentally, thOugh scarcely a
reliable witness, claims Auden spent his time
playing ping pong in a hotel at Xalaga.
Quoted by John hander, The Hriter and the
Commitment (Philadelphia, 1962), p. 27.

 

 

123
Charles fiillians who reinforced his feeling by a ”per—

sonal sanctity' which made Auden "ashamed of my short-

comings." This Christian conversion was also supported
by his lOss Of confidence in the efficiency of his
previous belief in liberal humanism. He charges it,
rather unfairly, for the inter-war political and social
failure.

We ass med that there was only one Outlook on

life conceivable among civilized people, liberal

humanism ... However, the liberal humanism of

the past had failed to produce the universal

peace and prosperity it had promised. Failed

even tofiprevent a Jorld War. What had it over-

looked?33
This argument outs the roots of his conversion back to
1937, and even then asserts that it is a return to re-
ligion rather than a a new discovery. 3e this as it
may, conversion as with Eliot weakened and underained
bis poetry, and in exactly the same way. Besides any
expected chanoe Of belief there is deterioration at the
technical level. His later poetry is marked by a ver-
bOsity and the lack of brilliance and significant
"bite" in his imagery. Both iuden and Eliot, once
rivalling only each other in the concrete immediacy
of their images, now write a kind of woolly meandering
as an ineffective substitute. In Auden's case consider

the innediate impact and subsequent raaifications of

meaning in such an inag found repeatedly in his earlier

 

7,, ., .. -, ...
jJnodern Canterbury rilrrims, Edit. J. rake,
Kew York, 1956.

e of his late: collections ;uncs. Ehe: ogening
stanza, which also, rather revealinrly, nagpens to be a

single couplex sentence, reads as fOllows:

Sizultm :eously as soundlerslv
Saritaleouslv, suddenly
as, at the vault of the dawn, the hind
Lates of the body fly open
To its world beyond, the ;ates 3* the hind,
The lanai. ate :21; *Leii_'ory \ :te
uvinh to, swing shut U, inst,ntane DU 11y
luell t e nocturnal rugca”e
Ci its “ebelli0us ironie, ill- iavou red,
Ill —n"turad and second- rate,
DiSC1lr3nCival, wi7GH€3 737 O3D£CT€5
33 a; historical mists lie:
Recalled from th shades to be a_m£in: 1“.e:'.n_v-,
From absence to be on display,
With Out a name or histoey I wake
Zetween_;;r.uijy and the day} (.Kni 5;, 3. ‘1

that he woke up. It is charitable to call this style
"ornamental baroque” wi
of the declension c
ornan ntal excess. If one knew less about Auden it nifht
suggest that his style was following a certain postwar
tide oi reaction t3 the realistic ina”ery o; the thirties
initiated by such roets as Dylan Thomas, aasccyne, Barker
and Laurie Lee. However, Auden very poihtedly defends
this new subtlety of )ressioi and redundancies Of

1 o 1

lan ua e in ar otler OI his later poens in which he instructs

H
[U
\fi

8 new your: goet.

Ee subtle, Various, ornauental, clever

And fio not listen to those critics ever

JhOse crude provincial gullets Cleve in books

Plain cooking made still plainer by plain coohe.
(-.‘o::_:_s_._), :3. 12.

 

I sesrch in vein in these lines for the redeeming
tone of sarcgsu. Letter tue eivice he grOifers nevus
first to have been accegtei by himself.

Perhaps I could tegin to substantiate my juigment
of the decline in Auden's later writing by a further
examination of some poems from Zones. In order to avoid
the obvious criticism that I have mase a biasseo and
unreoresentative selection I have cnOsen to discuss
three poems which follow inuedintely after one another
in his volume. If three contiguous poems all EXPOse a
similar decline in poetic force extra supgort is lent
to my argument. The three poems are entitled ilessure

Island, In Schrafft's and The Fall of Home.

 

 

The first of these reverts to some of the features
of Auden's earlier ballads though it lacks their jaunty
rhythm and bright vulgarity of tone and succeeds in being
only dreary:

Lflss Lovely, life and soul of the party,
wakes with a dreadful start,

Sure that whatever - O God - she is in for
Is about to begin,

or hearing, beyond the hushabye noises
Of sea and He, just a voice
Ask, as one might the time or a.trifle
Extra, her money and her life. (hones), p. 30.

126

The awkward rhythm and the tired cleverness of the

”her money and her life" seen to combine

. , /
renewed clicne
a poverty of technique and of meaning allowing little
merit to remain.

The next poem is entitled In Schrafft's. It begins

 

....

with a description of a woman having lunch in this Lew
York restaurant:

Having finished the Blue-pla

And reached the coffee stage,

Stirring her cup she sat,

A somewhat shageless figure

Of indeterminate age

In an undistinguished hat. (Hones), p. 31.

The tone here can best be described as tired, seen
in the indifferently vague word choice of "shageless",
"indeterminate” and "undistinguished". There is a boredom
that arises from the scene and connunicates itself through

he very format of the individual lines with their series

of end-stOpped terminations and stresses. Each line could
be a point of conclusion at the description, and each time

the poet rouses himself with a weary sigh for another

phrase-line. The theme that this poem develops is thf

3
cl-

she seems indifferent to "our globular furore, our inter-

national rout,’ these things were ”not being bothered about."

One can only ask the question as to why this shapeless

figure” is being bothered about.

 

the next poem in KOnes is The Fall of Rome which seems

to consist Of a parody of the significance of the decline

127

of Rome obtained by juxtaposing fatuous modern happenings
with a comic version of some honan activity. This creates
a dual reference Of the human relationship between these
two eras which serves to offer a COmic counterpart to
each other. There are some hints of Eliot's Sweeney
poens, but their jazzy slichness and cheerfulness is lost
and no extra quality of meaning seems to be substituted.
Stanzas such as these are typical:

Cerebrotonic Cato may

Extoll the Ancient Disciplines,

But the muscle-bound Larines

Mutini for food and pay.

Caesar's double bed is warm

As an unimportant clerk

Writes I Do LOT LIKE A” WGiK

On a pink official form. (Zones), 9. 32.
I suspect that to wrestle with such lines to tease out
some possible meaning would be supplying to the poem
ideas that it could hardly pretend to have on its own.

At the risk of belabouring the point I might merely

1

record tie opening stanzas of the next two poems in this
collection.

Music Ho begins with a double entendre.

 

lhe Emperor's favorite concubine
was in the Eunuch's pay
The Wardens of th Harches turned

Their spears the other way. (Bones), 0. 34.

L

The next poem is aptly called a Kursery Rhyme and

 

opens with the following pair of cheerful nonsense

couplets:

128

Their learned kings bent down to chat with frogs;
This was until the Battle of the Bogs.
The key that Opens is the key that rusts.

Their cheerful kings made toffee on their stoves;
This was until the Rotting of the Loaves,
The robins vanish when the ravens come. (Nones),

pe e
One notices how he revives the old forms in the music
hall rhythms of the song-like poem.

Give me a doctor partridge-plump,

Short in the leg and broad in the rump,

An endomorph with gentle hands

Who'll never make absurd demands. (Nones), p. 63.

In a later poem zogtngtes to Dr, Sheldon Auden asks

us to observe a display of trivial prowess:

 

Behold the manly mesomorph
Showing his splendid biceps off. (Hones), p. 63.

The analogy made seems rather apprOpriate for Auden's
comic posturing here. He almost seems to be demonstrating
with how little one can make a poem; such a Juggling of
trivia and vaguely comic observations. At this point I
feel like ”the loveliest girls" in the poem who declare
that they ”do not care for him much.”

But along with this technical deterioration, the sub-
stitution of an automatic habit of cleverness for real
creativity and poetic insight, goes a change of moral
standpoint. The liberal ideals of the previous decade
are discarded for a cruder if more efficient morality
based on an orthodox acceptance of the doctrine of Original

Sin, and a deterministic view about eternity. In Time

‘I

,go

‘Ohl

of War he wrote:
{en are not innocent as beasts and never can be
Hen can improve himself bit never be oeriect.
(Journey to a far), 9. 257.

 

There is a clear theolOLicwl sense in which this
pessimistic rerarh is true, but it seens that any wide
;lan Of social ref rn has to base its ameliora ion on
some sense of perfectability even as an ultincte aim.
Such a belief is the basis for all socialist ideals.
Auden's new deternination is more cleally stressed in

. I ‘1 ‘. -:'~ . [:1 F“, m . “A v“ 4 \fi INC
lines sucn as these iron :0? .Le 1ime ein :

-, ~._ 1 , _ J- ,, up .-.- ,. '1 1, - r :"v
”e nnow vely well that we are not unlucny but eVil

‘ ‘. :1 .. ‘ ‘ :4: A -. h. ..1- .‘ n ' n ‘ fl
That the dream vi a rcfi€Ct stete or no state at all
To whicn w fly for refu e is 0‘“ ppnisnment.

Let us ther::ioru be contrite but wi bhOUt anxiety,,

For powers and tiLC 33C LTZ p»-5 W.L n-rtal 1:1"
13;: Sod. (For the Time Being),p.-O.

 

Lere the Christian sense of wuilt suoercedes the

state are in t1 Joel‘sr part of ha 7W Junisbhent; an
agonizing mira e at best. There SEGLS only a gertle
concern to replace the fiery resentneit of the poe;s in
which Auden denounced the nn.land of the depression years.
The sense of hope that makes the point of indignation

has been replaced by a.sense of contritiin at man's sin.
And even when Auden writes a new love poem his appeal

is not for love but for redenption, izis concern is not

with unan passion but with divine commands.

fie my filing3 for our sins,
Sufferc1 in ea ch other's woe

130

Read in injured eyes and hands
HOw we broke divine commands

And served the Devil.
710 is passionate enough
Jhen the punishment begins?

0 my love, O my love,
For the ri ht of fire and snow
Save me from evil. (Collected Poetry), 9. 232.

 

some chanfe in viewpoint may be found sinolv in

the process Of ;rowin3 older. A39

[0

ets the poet into
the camp of the middle-aged and costs him that eafe-
ardor of youthful revolution. The zeal for reform,
SEein: the world in simplified terms as caDable Of
improvement and amelioration by edict, may be an in-
mature vision though it is compulsive and satisfyins
One might therefore expect a pathos in the realization

of a;ing. Auden, his views moving ahead of his chrono—
logy, seems only to find a sense of respite in growing
old. If he fears death there are the compensations Of
seeing the world with he blood calm and the emotions
cool. In A_walk After Dark Auden looks at the stars and
seexs a comfort in their naturity, not in their challeng-
ing infinity.

How unready to die

But already at the stage

Jhen one starts to dislike the young

I am glad those points in the shy

lay also be counted among

The creatures of middle age. (Kones), p. 71.

J‘he middle-aged are perfectly entitled to "dislike

the young"

but there is a sense of abdication in such an

assertion, a pOse, like Eliot's smug senility.

131
But the hints of the old Auden remain in this last poem
where he looks again at the last "low, dishonest decade."
The present clearly still requires the denouncing tongue
that castigated the apathy and folly of England between the
wars. The diagnosis has been made and it is as viable now
as it was at first. Auden can look glumly and angrily at
the present with its repeated permutations of past folly.

For the present stalks abroad

Like the past and its wronged again

Whimper and are ignored

And the truth cannot be hid;

Somebody chose their pain,

What needn't have happened did. (Nones), p. 71.

The last line echos the deepair and his earlier indict-
ment of policies which led so inevitably to the war. Here
Auden sounds the same note that rang in his powerful lines
of compassionate understanding, "We must love one another or
die." But now his vision of the world is jaundiced; tired
rather than diSpassionate. In his middle-aged vision the city
appears only dreary.

The clockwork Spectacle is
Impnlsive in a slightly boring
Eighteenth century way. (Nones), p. 71.

The superiority, the cultivated aridity of taste, the
blase intellectualism combine to make a distasteful tone here.
When Auden gets to his last stanza in which one searches for

’ some poetically

some comment on these "present wrongs,’
valid assertion that marked the theme in his earlier verse,

one discovers the following placid lines:

132

But the stars burn on overhead,

Unconscious of final ends,

As I walk home to bed,

Asking what judgment waits

My person, all my friends

And these United States. , (Eggggj, p. 71.

As "the present stalks abroad," Auden makes for the
safe contentment of his bed idly curious about the fate
that awaits his acquaintances and the entire country. The
remarkable thing is, of course, the peculiar placidity,
the indifference to the situation. What would once have
called forth his most powerful rhetoric causes him to share
the indifference of the distant stars. Besides this with-
drawal there is the trivial sentimentality of the bene-
diction of the last lines; a hymn-like final close made
the more obvious by being the last words in this collection
of Auden's verse.

After this there was one more recent book of poems
published in England under the title Homage to Clio. Eager-
ly one bought it, for a new volume by Auden is still poten-
tially a major poetic event. As one glanced through it
there came only a sinking of heart as one's worst fears
were too readily confirmed. The elements that characterized
figggs were equally obvious and prevalent in the newer book;
the Joyless wit, the arch cleverness, the apparent assump-
tion that his most trivial exercise is worthy of preserva-
tion for an eager posterity. These poems range from three

pages dedicated to discussing the problems and implications

of Installing_an American Kitchen in Lower Austria to the

133

motto-quality four lined Parable that runs as follows in
the manner of Ogden Nash:

The watch upon my wrist

Would soon forget that I exist,

If it were not reminded

By days when I forget to wind it. (Homage to Clio),

P037.

T the Great is a mock heroic parable of the decline of the
great hero - possibly Tamburlaine, and consists of a series
of couplets introducing a meaningless burlesque biography

of this type:

Begot like other children he
Was known among his kin as T. (Homage to Clio), p. 32.

Some Bgthtub Thoughts and a five lined History of the
Boudoir follow. After this barrel scraping most of the
rest of the Space is taken up with an Addendum of Academic
Graffig which-orange from the almost total pointlessness of
rhymes like

Louis Pasteur

So his colleagues aver,

Lived on excellent terms

With most of his germs. (Homage to Clio), p.89.
to the rare note of shrewd, slightly bitchy, wit of his
comments on Yeats:

To get the Last Poems of Yeats

You need not mug up on dates;

All the reader requires

Is some knowledge of gyres

And the sort of peeple he hates. (Homage to Clio),

p. 90.

The only other long work in this collection is an

Interlude: Dichtung an; Wahrheit which is a series of prose

observations on a poem that did not get written. It makes

134
some curious comments on love, but concludes with the
pessimistic assertions:

This poem I wished to write was to have expressed

exactly what I mean when I think of the words, I

love you, but I cannot know exactly what I mean ...

So this poem will remain unwritten. That doesn't

matter. (Homage to Clio), p. 51.

That last clause seems a rather strange observation for

a major poet to make. It is not only defeatist but seems
to accept the poetic restriction with extraordinary pla-
cidity. If the absence of a poem "doesn't matter" what
more can a critic say?

It may be that the struggle that engages Auden at
present is a more general battle that is being fought out
in the minds of intellectuals everywhere, themselves dis-
enchanted with the leftist principals that seemed so right-
eous in the thirties. Many have not taken Auden's step
into the comfortable security of the Church, but his con-
cerns and preoccupations are theirs too. As Hoggart ob-
serves of Auden's significance in this respect:

Auden is at the frontiers of this anxiety-torn world.

He is one of those who play out in themselves with

unusual and revealing clarity, struggles to which,

whether we recognize it or not, we are all committed. 34

It might be then that Auden has not so much avoided
the commitment,has perhaps indicated, as Eliot has done,
that our true preoccupation must be with Spiritual, rather

than socio-political issues. If this is true it does not

seem to me that it can be supported by his poetry. The

 

34Hoggart, p. 219.

A.

135
later anxious, fuzzy investigations are slender accomp-
lishments for the maturity of a poet whose earlier voice
was so strong and sure; so challenging in its compassion
and ardour.

Whatever doubts one has to express about his later
work, no one would attempt to deny his predominant in-
fluence on younger poets. This aSpect of Auden's signi-
ficance is stressed by Geoffrey Grigson when he evaluates
his place in a broader cultural context.

Auden has affected the kind of poems that are

written, the sounds they make, the shape they

assume. He assimilates the fashions and regur-
gitates, in the manner of Stravinsky and Picasso,
blending the pOetic cultures discrete in time

and contemporaneous in their nature, cultivates

past and present and of different languages, re-

fined and restricted and pOpular.35
His influence is dramatic indeed, yet I do not mink that
Auden has to be eXplained as one of those writers more
influential than personally significant. His quality as
a poet rests solidly on his earlier verse and especially
Poems 1930, the crucial §pain 1911 and the wry perception
of New Year Letter. When one re-reads these works and
tastes again the sharp concentration of his imagery one
can continually aver Auden's achievement and personal
quality, not as a stimulating influence but as a poet.
But too often his nature work, which should be the culmi-
nation of experience both of life and of technique fails

in both elements. In considering Auden's major writing

 

35Gr. Grigson, Poetry of the Present (London, 1949),
p. 6.

136
one is driven to talk of the past, and as the poet seems
to fade the Man of Letters takes his place. Auden is a
busy entrepreneur of letters, one the committee of a
book club, he is a pOpular and eXpensive lecturer, a
reviewer. In a manner similar to that of Spender or Day
Lewis he dissipates his remarkable talent in the sidelines
of poetry. This is not the cause, I suspect, but the
result of a slackening of the poetic impulse. Recent work
shows verbosity taking the place of his earlier sharp
precision; pessimism and apathy replacing his confident
and compassionate hOpe. Yet Auden is still a writer who
could replenish the form of his poetry. All the old
skills are there and the authentic voice sounds through
occasionally in even his later writing albeit dimly.
Surely no other poet still stands so close to the heart

of an age which needs his comprehension and awareness.

 

STEPHEN SPENDER

Although Spender based his ideas on solidarity
with the working classes his personal contacts were
even more limited than those of his three "comrades."
His intense personal diffidence precluded even the
casual meetings that might have been made at pubs or
sports events. His feeling towards the workers had to
be one of sympathy from the outside. Intellectually he
may have hated with all his heart the class barriers
that restricted him, but he could only reach across
them in compassion. His social origin, his superior
Oxford education, and his inherent shyness did not
allow him to make any natural class-free approaches
to the workers for whom he suffered. The following
section from a New Verse article by Idris Davis, a
true worker / comrade by birth, makes the kind of
arrogant and Spiteful attack which must have rein-
forced Spender's sense of division.

Auden, Allott, MacNeice and Spender - it is like
a refrain. When these pe0ple and perhaps yourself
were learning their Latin verbs in cushy places,
I had to do my job in the coal mine. Since then,
however, I have done a little Latin myself ...
But it is the Allotts and the Spenders who talk
so glibly about experience.
This is a very unfair attack, although one appreciates

the source of the indignation. One might flippantly sug-
gest that the English public school "cushy places" in

 

1Idris Davis, New VersejNo. 1, Jan. 1939, p. 30.
137

138

Orwell's description for example,2 make the coal mine
seem a restful alternative. It is simply incorrect to
suggest that Spender talks "glibly about eXperience."
Spender has major weaknesses as a poet, but they do not
stem from glibness. That charge can so much more appro-
priately be leveled at Auden. Sympathy and anger are
the basis of the writing of all these four poets, but
in Spender's case there is none of the jeering satire
and confident exposition that marked Auden's verse.

Spender is the first to admit the important influ-
ence that Auden exerted upon him. He remarks in his
autobiography:

Doubtless Auden influenced me at this time.

I absorbed many of his remarks and attitudes

which impressed me even more deeply than I was

aware of then.3
But in spite of this influence Spender's emotions were
more personal and tender, and were expressed in lyrical
writing. His sensitivity led to involvement, not detach-
ment. He sympathized as he eXposed the social disaster,
seeing its human misery. Such feeling shows in his tech-

nique too. In his poans there is rarely evidence of tricks

of vefbal dexterity; that surface complexity for its own

 

2See the horrifying description of boarding school
life in "Such Such Were the Joys." George Orwell,
A Collection of Essays (New YOrk, 1954), p. 9ff.

3Stephen Spender, World Within World (London, 1951),
p. 52.

139
sake that marred so much of the poetry of this period.
In Spite of his admission above, better than the other
two poets he resisted Auden's cynical tone which tended
to freeze any personal sentiment at source.

If his clever certainty gave Auden his essential
strength; his sardonic penetration, it warred with the
Spirit of both Day Lewis and Spender. Spender's Simpler
tenderness may be understood by noting that he was called
(not entirely with kindly intentions) "the Rupert Brooke
of the Depression." He responded with idealistic sym-
pathy; he suffered rather than analyzed.

Politically Spender felt drawn to the Communist
Party as were so many intellectuals of this time. For
a fewveeks he was even a party member. His declared
reason for breaking with the party was as much poetic
as political.4 He insisted that a poet could not create
while he was involved with such a movement.

For the poets to forsake poetic truth would

be a betrayal not only of themselves, but of

society ... I must admit that I believe the

policy of insisting on a rigid Marxist orgho-

doxy to be perhaps laudable but mistaken.

Though obvious, this is somewhat of a surprising assertion

coming from Spender when one considers his disinclination

 

4His brief membership of the Party seemed only under-
taken at the instigation of the British Communist
leader, Harry Pollit. He convinced Spender that it
was a necessary demonstration of purpose before he
set off for Spain. World Within World;pp.210-211.

5S. Spender, Forward From Liberalism (New York, 1937b
p. 186.

140
to seek the advantages of detachment, and his urge to
identify himself by a totalemotional commitment. But he
realized that party-line prOpaganda could not be called
poetry, and that his work could not develop in the strait-
jacket of Marxist dogma. His independence of outlook
made him an object of suspicion to the party. His early
play, Trial of a Judge6 was regarded as heretically
bourgeois by the Communist critics, for its questioning
of Specious arguments for the relativity of truth.

His antagonism to the restrictions of a rigid poli-
tical standpoint was strengthened because, more than any
other poet of his time, Spender was divided by the effort
to reconcile his social conscience with its demand for
commitment and his need for a personal freedom for poetic
develoPment. His intellect realized that a controlled
socialist system would offer more hope to the starving
and neglected unemployed. He also understood that such
a society by its very nature would condition poetry. This
would be especially dangerous in his own case fbr his
writing, more even than Day Lewis’ tended to the lyric
rather than the didactic.

In Spite of the lyric style, it was Spender, surpris-
ingly enough, who was responsible for the verse Pylons
whose title created the term, "The Pylon Poets" which was

a catch-phrase label for the Auden group in the thirties.

 

5s. Spender, Trial of a Judge (London, 1938).

141
Surveying the changes brought about by the continuing
industrialization of Bntain, he wrote these famous lines
reprinted reluctantly in his Collected Poems only "for
the record" with the sense of an "obligation to own up."

The secret of these hills was stone and cottage

Of that stone made,

And crumbling roads

That turned on sudden hidden villages.

Now over these small hills they have built the

concrete

That trails black wire;

Pylons, those pillars

Bare, like nude giant girls that have no secret.

(Poems), p. 57.

The change that Eliot brought into poetry has been
further extended in this and Similar poems. Eliot, especi-
ally in his earlier poetry, demonstrated that no subject
could prOperly be considered as unsuitable for poetry.
The ugliness of urban Sprawl and slum areas could prove
as fecund in poetic inSpiration as was Wordsworth's Lake
District, or Byron's Greece of an earlier era. The "damp
souls of housemaids" were as valid an emotional reality
as the ardours of any tragic heroine. The "Pylon Poets"
carried this assumption a stage further. Not only were
these subjects permissable, but they became essential;

the demonstration of a drive to embrace modernity; an

escape from the pre-1914 Georgian attitudes to poetry.7

 

7One notes how impressed Spender was with the posing
paradox of the assertion Auden made to him at the
University. "Auden insisted that the most beauti-
ful walk in Oxford was that along the canal and

past the gasworks. After this I began writing

poems containing references to gasworks, factories
and slums." World Within World, p. 92.

142

The acceptance of these themes had both a poetic and
a political baSis, for as Spender observed the surface
features dictated the nature of their contemporary
world.

The face of the landscape is a mask

Of bone and iron lines where time

Has ploughed its character. (Still Centre), p.16.

The uneXpected and indeed impressive thing about
Spender is the way in which he can couple the sensitivity
of a Romantic poet with "pylon" imagery and the modern
techniques of irregular rhythm and assonance. This combi-
nation allows Spender to write of an aeroplane in so
lyrical a fashion that one has the impression that, apart
from the subject, in tone and imagery the poem could have
been written fifty years before.

More beautiful and soft than any moth

With blurry furred antennae feeling its huge path

Through dusk. The airliner with shut off engines

Glides over the suburbs and the sleeves set trailing

To point the wind. Gently, broadly, Shzafalls

Scarcely disturbing charted currents of air.
(Poems), p. 55.

This poem, in its slightly fanciful way, is successful in
developing a mood, but the conflict between realism of sub-
ject and the instinctive poeticism of Spender's vision
can produce a conflict as absurd as,

I must have love enough to run a factory on

Or give a city power, or drive a train. (Poems),
p. 15.

Compare similarily the image from Trial of a Judge,(p.22J3

143

If there is love or any dancer's art

To restore symmetry now, it must be stronger

Than small brass wheels. Imust have cranes

To hfb stone weights or love

Powerful enough to run a country on.

The Midland Express also eXposes the false energy and
the glib ardour to which this style leans.

Muscular virtuoso!

Once again you take the centre of the stage ...

All England lies beneath you like a woman

With limbs ravished. (Still Centre), p. 47.

Here is crude rhetoric and the image shows a childish
desire to shock, but in this poem Spender records his
awareness of dependence on industrial stimuli as he
writes, "Beneath my lines I read your iron lines."

The railway subject was used again more successfully
in The EXpress. The mechanical subject is now more suc-
cessfully absorbed, the excitement and elation are more
firmly translated into effective imagery. With a rhy-
thmic emphasis owing something to Hopkins‘ "sprung rhythm"
Spender writes:

After the first powerful plain manifesto

The black statement of the pistons, without more fuss

But gliding like a queen she leaves the station ...

Beyond the town, there lies the Open country

Where, gathering Speed, she acquires mystery

The luminous self-possession of ships on ocean.

It is now she begins to sing -- at first quite low

Then loud and at last with a jazzy madness. (Poems),

p.53.

One's first response to such a poem today is likely

to be "So what?" The element of Shock and novelty which

made such verses "manifestoes" (the use of that word here

is revealing) has gone. What is left? Is this just a

144

clever description, the verbal equivalent of the music-
hall entertainer who imitates a train by making huffing
and screeching sounds with his distorted lips? There
is something in this view. It is a concert piece. But
a phrase like "she acquires mystery" gives evidence
that Spender has found some personal significance in
this scene which would not exist if this poem were merely
a cadenza. The train symbol eXpands in the poet's mind
until all the excitement of technological beauty and power
floods his vision and becomes a new aspect of the loveli-
ness for which poets have eternally searched. In lines
that clearly echo Hopkins' pervasive technique Spender
proclaims the new beauty.

Ah like a comet through flame she moves entranced

Wrapped in her music, no bird song, no, nor bough

Breaking with honey buds, shall ever equal.

(Paglia). p. 54.

Spender's confident delight in the potentialities of
this industrial develOpment is more difficult to share
in our time, when the dangers and complexities of techno-
logical progress are discussed ad nauseum in the columns
of even the most trivial journalists. It seemed in the
thirties that it might be possible for science to conquer
poverty, misery and social despair. This was the founda-
tion of the age's optimism and, paradoxically enough, the
thirties were a time of hOpe. In the face of the great-
est economic depression the world has ever seen, the

retreat of liberalism on all fronts, the rise of continental

145
dictatorships and approaching war, there seemed to be a
hope that something could and would be done. This hOpe,
however nebulous and ironically misapplied, savaithe
thirties from the apathy about the value of personal deci-
sion that marks our present decade. Their vague but
significant Optimism was the basis for the literature of
protest.

In the thirties everywhere Spender looked he saw
evidence of the misery and deSpair that the war and the
uncontrolled forces of capitalismiad brought about. His
sensitive nature reSponded intensely to the suffering of
others. In his autobiography he describes his halluci-
natory desire for painful punishment even as a child.

The following lines tell us much about the almost maso-
chistic intensity of feeling Spender brings into his
poetry.

I often regretted that there were no great causes

left to fight for; that I could not be crucified,

nor go on a crusade, nor choose to defend the

cause of St. Joan against the wicked English ...

I thirsted for great injustices ... There were

times when I regretted not having my arms extended

on a cross with rusty nails driven through my hands.

(World Within World), p. 2.
Such sensitivity may perhaps have been heightened by the
knowledge that his family had inherited both Jewish and
German strain. His later guilt in this heredity was the
more intense because his family rather significantly chose

to conceal these Jewish antecedents from him when he was

young. Even as a child there was a separateness which

146
left Spender "outside", wanting to be a part of all
that intense working-class life which his upbringing
disqualified him from knowing. In an interesting poem
of childhood impressions he writes:
My parents kept me from children who were rough,
And who threw words like stones and who were
torn clothes.

Their thighs showed through rags. They ran in
the street

And climbed cliffs and stripped by country streams.
(Poems), p. 22.

Spender's alienation originated early, with parental
training reinforcing a natural shyness of diSposition,
and a shrinking fear of the bruises caused by "words
like stones." It was this instinctive withdrawal that
he had to fight when he tried to share the eXperiences
and feelings of his comrades of the working class. He
notes the mixture of horror and admiration with which
he responded to these street urchins.

I feared more than tigers their muscles like iron

And their jerking hands and their knees tight on

my armsm

I feared the salt coarse pointing of those boys

Who copied my lisp behind me on the road. (Poems),

p. 22.

Spender's position to get their "knees tight on his
arms" is the humiliated prone posture as the triumphant
victorious boy wrestler kneels on him. To Spender school-
boy fighting becomes synonymous with this defeat. "Salt"
suggests thegphysical sense of the pain he felt as they
mimicked him, and perhaps recalls too, the taste of his

own tears running down his cheeks. There is no evidence

147
of the length of time between his eXperience and the
writing of these lines, yet the memory has seared in
and his slight impediment of Speech is remembered as a
fact that further set him apart from the casual conform-
ity of these boys. The third stanza shows this envy
of these healthy young animals,undernourished and
neglected as they undoubtably were.

They were lithe, they spgang out behind hedges

Like dogs to bark at our world. They threw

mud while I looked the other way, pretending to

smile, I longed to forgive them, yet they never

smiled. (Egggg), p. 22.

There are two eSpecially revealing features in these
lines. The dogs that "bark at our world" indicate Spender's
Shame of his middle-class background because it seemed in
some way a sham; limited and narrow, compared with the
colorful violence of working-class life. This was parti-
cularly true because he so early felt a strong sense of
reSponSibility, even guilt, that none of his relations seemed
to share. Stoically he maintained the facade "pretending
to smile", but how revealing is his observation, "I longed
to forgive them“ closely followed by "they never Smiled."
The urge to approach, to be accepted was strong, but they
would not allow him to join them bn his terms. They would
not give him the chance to act the morally superior St.
Francis part that he longed to play in his physical weak-

ness.

8"our" is amended into the less class-conscious,
more personal, "my" world in the Collected Poems.

 

l‘

148

This poem seems to me extremely important for an under-
standing of Spender'e later feelings. It shows his in-
tense sense of pity, his envy for that unthinking acceptance
of the world that can never be known by the self-conscious
intellectual. It hints too, at that faint tone of priggish
attitudinizing which arose when he tried to face the social
gulf that no conscious act of his could narrow. Suggestive-
ly he remarked in 1937, "Perhaps the revolution responds to
some need in me which I have felt since I was a child."9

His conscience would never let him withdraw from the
attempt to bridge this class barrier. His poetic sensi-
bility was employed to express the truths that demanded
utterance in the economic waste land that was all about
him. Yet sometimes this urge to enforce the economic
facts, were with his instinctive poetic sensibility even
within a single poem. When at the coast he sees the coun-
try beauty of Th3 Maggina; Zie; . He begins with direct
description:

On the chalk cliff edge struggles the final field

Of barley smutted with tares and marbled
With veins of rusted poppy as though the plough

had bled. ($331; gentrg). p. 41.
The sharp effectiveness of the simile of the bleeding

plough, and the compression gained from the unusual verbs
"smutted" and "marbled" demonstrate the development of

Spender's poetic style. These virtues are lost in diffuse
indignation as he seeks to explain the economic abuse in

 

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149
such a farm where "the wage of the labourer (is) sheeted
in sweat." 1

Here the price and the cost cross on a chart

At a point fixed on the margin of profit

Which opens out in the golden fields. £84111 Centre),

The contrived note as Spender attempts the scientific
tone of graphs and charts is in obvious contrast with the
quality of the earlier lines. Spender has to force him-
self to make the sort of cross reference that came so
easily to Auden and MacNeice. There is always a sense of
strain when he attempts to follow their pattern, which
resists his natural poetic skill.

At whatever cost to the natural development of his
poetry, he could not avoid the economic issues of the period,
for, wherever he looked his conscience was stirred by human
distresso He observed cripples "with limbs shaped like
questions", and the pictorial appropriateness of the com-
parison with the twisted legs is extended by our knowledge
that these people by their damaged existence are asking a
question of all feeling men in their society. His image
includes the social challenge he faced, and being Spender
he feels "the pulverous grief melting the bones with pity."
Auden might have avoided such a question at the personal 1
level by a Sharp and emphatic diagnosis; Spender is aware
more of the nature of his own reSponse; his theme is the
(fistress created by his discovery and the attack those ques-

tion limbs make on his conditioned assumptions. The poem

150

continues:

What I expected was

Thunder, fighting,

Long struggles with men

And climbing ...

What I had not forseen

Was the gradual day

Weakening the will

Leaking the brightness away,

The lack of good to touch

The failing of body and soul. (Poems), p.25.

This is a pessimistic poem, for clearly Spender's
discovery of the physical facts of damaged limbs has
militated against his idealistic, theoretical concepts
of social reformation.

For I had expected always

Some brightness to hold in trust,

Some final innocénpe
To save from dust. O

(fig—.33.): g. 26.
The contorted limbs question the honesty of his vision
as well as the social wrongs they suffer.

But if these are realities which attack his idealiza-
tion, their appeal to his compassion is direct and ines-
capable.

To the hanging despair of eyes in the street offer

Your making hands and your liver on skewers of pity.

(Still Centre), p. 30.
The agony of the skewered pity may seem excessively butch-

erish, but it may not be over-strong to eXpress Spender's

 

joAgain there is a revealing emendation in the
Collected Poems version. "To save" with its sug-
gestion of positive action becomes "exempt" which
is purely passive, the decision outside the hands
of the Speaker. Poems, p. 26.

151

visceral compassion. 'He sought love, knowing that the
times all but precluded its healing tenderness. When
love could be fleetingly achieved it had to be snatched
in "improbable places."

We'll tear love

Between the Slogans of comrades.

We forced love--

To grow in improbable places

Under the street doorways

The yawning railway arches. (Trial of a Judgg),
p. 55.

In a famous poem of this period Spender describes
a typical enough Scene but with a new vehemence; a des-
peration that gives it life through his knowledge and
involvement.

Moving through the silent crowd

Who stand behind dull cigarettes

These men who idle in the road,

I have a sense of falling light.

They lounge at corners of the street

And greet friends with a shrug of shoulder

And turn their empty pockets out,

The cynical gestures of the poor.

Now they've no work, like better men

Who sit atcbsks and take much pay,,

They sleep long nights and rise at ten

To watch the hours that drain away. (Poems), p. 30.

He sees the apathy that falls on the unemployed.
Even the cigarettes, which must be precious, are dull,
smoked indifferently without relishing puffs. There is
no revolutionary fervor here; perhaps even that would be
more desirable, for it would indicate the continuing
fire of human determination. "The shrug of shoulder"

and the "cynical gestures," these expose the hoflflowness

152
of industrial society more effectively than strikes and
riots. Spender can never escape from these haunting
figures, their deSpair is always with him:

In railway halls, on pavements near the traffic,

They beg, their eyes made big by empty staring

And only measuring Time, like the blank clock.

(Beams). p. 61-
He responds with an aching pity, but he remains even now,
as much the envious outsider as he was with the young
children in the road.

I'm jealous of the weeping hours

They stare through with such longing eyes,

I'm haunted by these images,

I'm haunted by their emptiness. (ngmg), p.30.
He is well-fed and comfortable, but revealingly he is
"jealous" because he can only observe, not share, their
world. It is also an interesting comment on his writing
at this time that while his spirit is haunted by the
'bmptiness" his writing iskaunted by the intrusive "images"
or industrial dislocation. '

The sense of compassion pervades all his writing, and
constantly contrasts with the satiric harshness of his
contemporaries as he declares, "I claim fulfillment in
the fact of loving." His love extends to any areas of
social neglect. For the prisoners he sees in a jail, his
feeling is only a tender love.

Their time is almost Death. The silted flow

Of years and years

Is marked by dawns
As faint as cracks on mud-flats of deSpair.

153

My pity moves amongst them like a breeze

On walls of stone

Fretting for summer leaves, or like a tune

On ears of stone. (Eggmg), p. 37.

The poem gains part of its effect by the repeated
points of comparison between the landscapes that Spender
loved so well, and the Spiritual comfort that these
prisoners are denied. Pity is the breeze or the leaves,
their imprisonment silts up the river-like flow of their
lives. With captive years ahead of them the individual
dawns both literal and Spiritual are faint, too faint to
break "the mud flats of deSpair" that continues the Silt
metaphor in its dismal denial of fruition or escape. At
last with a fierceness of rhetoric he concludes with a
fervent, .

No, no, no

It is too late for anger,

Nothing prevails

But pity for the grief they cannot feel. (Poems),

P.3 .

"Nothing prevails but pity" could become the leit-
motif of all of Spender's early writing. It echoes the
words of the admired Wilfred Owen, "The Poetry is in the
pity." Another similarity to Owen's spirit may be seen
in Spender’s repudiation of anger. As a humanist his
emotions should be inflamed by such suffering, but anger
is too easy, too inadequate a reSponse to the contemporary
scene. Owen found Sasson's apparently satisfying indig-

nation hollow as he contemplated disaster. Spender also

chooses pity before rage.

154

The image of freedom appearing as the call of the
breeze and the summer leaves is only incidental in the
previous poem, but it becomes the central aSpect of the
well-known poem An Elemgntagy Classroom in a S;um. Here
the country-side is seen as an avenue of escape that will
allow children to flee from the restrictions of their
ugly urban environment. This poem was considerably re-
vised after its first publication, but it is one of the
few poems which show an appreciable improvement in its
revision. I Speculate that the early version in a
Faber collectionlwas a premature publication. The first
printing in the Spender canon was in The 85111 gentre,
(London, 1939). In this volume the date when the individ-
ual poems were written is not indicated, but the collection
consists of shorter poems written since the 1934 edition
of nggg. The Faber version did not satisfy Spender. In
his Foreword to The Still Cantrg (p. 9) he lists certain
poems, including An Elgmentary Classrgom as ones that had
needed entire re-writing. The result is far more satis-
factory than in other instances in Th2 Still Centre where

he attempted to tidy up the poems.
First Spender describes poignantly the classroom scene:

The tall girl with her weighed down head. The-
seeming boy with the rat' 8 eyes. The stunted
unlucky heir.

 

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The Faber Book gf Mgdern Verse, Michael Roberts,
edit.’ on on, g p. O

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155
Of twisted bones, reciting a father's gnarled
disease

His lesson from his desk. (Still Centre), p.28.

The skinny girl with her stringy neck inadequately
supporting a gaunt, bony skull, and the "paper-seeming
boy," thin, white and transparently fragile, are diseased
from birth, inheriting and repeating the genetic inade-
quacies of their parents in a sequence of social neglect.
These are the raw material of the future society which
the poet now so indignantly sees condemned to this class-
room cage with "sour cream walls." That "sour" doubles
the effect of the non-descript khaki of the gloomy school
walls, and one's own disgusted reSponse to the whole
scene. On one wall is the "open-handed map awarding
the world its world."11b In this era of rickety children
and niggardly schoolboards, the map seems shamelessly
generous, ostentatiously offering the glories of the
world to the imagination, and suggesting that there are
other places where this kind of misery is not the inevi-
table concomitant.0f existence. The implication of this
map leads Spender into direct criticism of the social
system that condemns these children to the unjust con-
flict between their world and the open hands of the maps.
For them the map cannot offer any escape.

And yet for these
Children, these windows, not this world are world

 

11[The compressed paradox of this line was both
confused and over explicit in the Faber version:
"Open handed map/awarding the eXplicit world of
every name but here."

156
Where all their future's painted with a fog,

A narrow street sealed in with a lead sky.
Far, far from rivers, capes, and stars of words.

12
The child's reality is so bleak that Spender ironically
suggeststhat it would be more bearable to stunt their
imagination at source, to conceal the heartbreaking pro-
mise of alternatives that are denied them. "So blot their
maps with slums as big as doom." In the circumstances to
which they must become reconciled,

Surely Shakespeare is wicked, the map a bad example

With Ships and sun and love tempting them to steal.

For lives that slyly turn in their cramped holes

From fog to endless night?
If they are to be industrial "hands" should we let them
get a dangerous glimpse of the full status of life,
Spender asks sarcastically. It will be easier for them
and safer for society if they assume their own world is
the norm. Such a view denies any valid attitude to humane
life and Spender rather calls for action, and in lines of
impassioned rhetoric which are not dishonest for all

their trumpet flamboyance he demands that the children

be allowed an escape.

 

12Instead of this continuing significant pun on "world"
the Faber version offers the awkward, unrhythmical
inversion of the following dull sentence.

For these young lives guilty and dangerous

Is fantasy of travel.

13Again the Faber version seems remarkably weaker.
The concrete references to ships and sun were replaced
by the didactic explanation of,
Surely ShakeSpeare is wicked

To lives that wryly turn, under the structural Lie,

Towards smiles or hate?
The abstraction and capitalization of "the structural
Lie", add nothing to the bleak, concrete vision of the
children living in their cramped holes."

157

Break, 0 Break Open till they break the town

And Show the children to the fields and all their
world,

Azure on their sands, to let their tongues

Run naked into books, the white and green leaves

open.

History theirs whose language is the sun.14

This poem indicates that Spender's pity was no longer
a static thing as it had appeared when he observed the
unemployed. His was now a voice to shout this Shame:

But let the wrong cry out as raw as wounds

This time forgets and never heals, far lesstrans-

cends. (Poems), p. 61.

It is the sense Of wrong, the absence of love that tears
at Spender's emotions. He asks:

What cross draws out our arms,

Heaves up our bodies towards the wind

And hammers us between the mirrored lights? (Poems),

p. 12

He is approaching here an almost masochistic self-martyr-
dom far from Auden's confident exposition. When Spender
looks at the social decay and misery around him he feels
compassiOn so much more than easy anger. His empathy
makes him merge himself with the suffering of others:

This century chokes me under roots of night,

I suffer like history in Dark Ages, where

Truth lies in dungeon too deep for whiSper.
(Poems), p. 41.

 

14This exciting and exotic paean takes the place
Of the following original lines of pedestrian ex-
planation.
O that beauty has words and works which
break
Through coloured walls and towers. The
children stand
As in a climbing mountain train. This lesson
illustrates the world green in their many valleys
beneath: The total summer heavy with their
flowers. Still Centre, p. 29.

158

Choking he may be, but the writings of these poets were
beginning to raise the whiSper to a shout that no dungeons
could restrain. Yet as Spender "suffers like history" he
is also aware of the dangers of this feeling, perhaps
sensing his own weakness. It was Spender who pointed out
the element of masochism that underlay Owen's totality
of pity.15 The warning in the next lines must be for
himself, an assertion Of "the destructive element" in
his own self-flagellating compassion.

remember

Revenge and deSpair are prisoned in your bowels.

Life cannot pardon the ideal without scruple

The enemy Of flesh, the angel and destroyer

Creator Of self-martyrdom, serene but horrible.

(329mg). p- 43.

One way Of éscaping from this nullifying excess was
to sound a call to action demanding that others join in
forming a new society. He calls the youth demanding that
they see the urgency of rebuilding the crumbling values
which the previous generation had bequeathed their chil-
dren. With a rhetoric which has an earnest force,however
much it is based on a rather naive Communist view,he charges:

Oh young men, Oh young comrades

it is tOO late now to stay in those houses

your fathers built Where they built you to

build to breed

money on money. it is too late
to make or even count what has been made. (Poems),

p. .

 

153cc S. Spender, The Destructive Element (London, 1935)

p. 218. 'Pity is not an adequate emotion in poetry. 9
It tends to become negative, exhausting, sen-
timental, masochistic."

159

The young of this era were more than usually skepti-
cal Of the past. They had to form a new synthesis to
meet world conflict. They might have inherited the secure
world Of the Edwardian age, ("those houses your fathers
built" are symbolic as well as literal) but both had been
shattered by the war, and the subsequent economic disaster.
Elsewhere Spender repeats the theme Of this assertion:

This only what I tell;

It is too late for rare accumulation

For family pride, for beauty's filtered dusts;

I say, stamping the words with emphasis,

Drink from here energy and only energy,

As from the electric charge of a battery,

TO will this Time's change. (Poems), p. 68.

This generation must leave the areas haunted by the
past, "the: great homes where the ghosts are prisoned."
It is too late to retrieve this distant world Of the past.
They can only count on their own strength, the positive
things, certain, measurable, owing nothing to history.

Count rather these fabulous possessions

which begin with your body and your fiery soul ...

Count your eyes as jewels and your valued sex

then count the sun and the innumerable coined light

Sparkling on waves and Spangled under trees

It is too late now to stay in great houses where

ghosts are prisoned. (Poems), p. 44.

Perhaps it is only Spender's intense concern that
saves this from being another record of "the best things
in life are free." He goes on from this to demand a fresh
start based only on the unchallengeable and certain evidence
Of the senses. The lines make clear his belief that the
social system is discredited, but perhaps they also imply

that he was beginning to doubt whether another system

160
would be much more efficacious. Here he is already be-
coming divided from the realpolitik of the Marxists,
though his mission remains an idealization of their pro-
mises:
No man
Shall hunger: Man shall spend equally.
Our goal which shall compel: Man shall be man.
(Poems), p.69.
He invokes the ardour Of youth when he demands that they
advance to rebuild and sleep with friend on hill

advance to rebel and remember what you have
no ghost ever had, immured in his hall. (Poems),

p. .

One reason for the demand from change was the general
acceptance of the inadequacy and folly Of the professional
diplomats. Spender describes this world Of political
cynicism and intrigue with a newsreel technique. Using
a series Of isolated scenes he describes contemporary
events; the Reichstag for example, burned by the Nazis
themselves and used by them to justify the unconstitu-
tional assault on the German Communist Party. It is
indicative that Spender joins in the plural Of "923
Party."

the chancellor clutching his shot arm (and that

was perhaps a put up job for his own photographexxs)

the parliament their own side set afire

and then Our Party banned. (ngmg), p.49.

The underlying futility in the political manoeuver_
ing made even the most important of international (3011fԤr_

ences suspect. Even the League of Nations assembliES
Eire

reduced sadly yet accurately, to the catalogue of

b

161

motor-cycles, wires, aeroplanes, cars, trains

converging at that one town Geneva.

top hats, talking at the edge of silk-blue lake,

then the mountains. (Poems), p. 49.

The series of abortive conferences and humiliating
retractions of agreements scars the history of the
thirties. Spender asserts that this moral degeneration
between nations could be avoided by concerned and aroused
individuals. He again calls upon youth and rallies them
with the cry,

0 comrades, let not those who follow after

The beautiful generations that shall Spring from

our sides --

Let them not wonder how, after the failure of

banks

The failure Of cathedrals and the declared in-

sanity of our rulers

We lacked the Spring-like resources of the tiger.

(Poems), p. 48.

One notes here that Spender directs his attack on
the three great forces which seemed to be responsible
for the chaos and misery of this age: the banks, whose
folly over the gold-standard caused almost as much
misery as the war; the rulers, not satisfied with one
great war seemed by their policies to be courting a
second; and religion, its drive deadened by complacent
traditional ritual seeming to Offer no crusade to rouse
dissatisfied youth. Spender and the other poets asserted
the need to act and they were both the spokesmen and the
intellectual leaders of their generation. Their sense

Of personal responsibility contrasts with today's

fatalistic apathy. Spender posed the question they all

sought to answer:

Who live under the shadow Of war
What can I do that matters? (Poems), p. 311

By seeking a solution in decision they tried to
escape from historical determination; sought an alter-
native tO the constrictions of their personal world.
They wanted release from the limitations imposed by

A network of railways, money, words words words,

Meals, papers, exchanges, debates.

Cinema, wireless. (Still Centre), p. 18.

In an untitled poem Spender called this historical neces-

sity.
that line
Traced on our graphs through History, where the
Oppressor
Starves and deprives the poor. (Poems), p. 61.

This poem describes again the unemployed, but some sug-
gestive comments on Spender's own writing are included.

In railway halls, on pavements near the traffic,
They beg, their eyes made big by empty staring
And only measuring Time, like the blank clock.

No, I shall weave no tracery of pen-ornament

To make them birds upon my singing-tree:

Time merely drives these lives which do not live
As tides push rotten stuff along the shore.

---There is no consolation, no, none,

In the curving beauty of that line

Traced on our graphs through history, where the
Oppressor

Starves and deprives the poor.

Paint here no draped deSpairs, no saddening clouds

Where the soul rests, proclaims eternity.

But let the wrong cry out as raw as wounds

This Time forgets and never heals, far less transcends.
(Poems), p. 61.

163

One notes the express denial of the "tracery of
pen ornament." Poetry cannot now be satisfied with
transient prettiness. Verse now acts as the mouthpiece
for the suffering and its lines will let "the wrongs
cry out." I

EurOpean politics seemed to Show more clearly the
savage outlines Of the social power struggle. At home,
the class divisions remained muffled by the instinctive
conservatism and private charity of British customs..The
attack by troops on the workers' housing quarter in
Vienna in 1934 was one incident prior to the Spanish
Civil War, that exemplified the power struggle. It
provoked an outraged reSponse from the left-wing intel-
lectuals who were to support the government forces in
Spain two years later.

The attack was organized by Chancellor Dolfuss him-
self. In alliance with Major Fey and Prince Von Starhem-
berg, the army was directed to put down a major strike
and, at the same time smash the center of the Socialist
Opposition inside Austria by capturing and executing
its leaders. Their organization took its strength from
the Viennese proletariat district. Chancellor Dolfuss
appeared to imagine that such an attack would be a grati-
fying diSplay of loyalty to Mussolini. With a misvalua-

tion common at the time, Dolfuss thought Mussolini would

164
be an adequate counter to balance Germany's growing de-
mands for annexation. He was successful enough at least
in crushing the workers and cruelly punishing their leaders.
Hitler was sufficiently annoyed by his flirtation with
Mussolini to have him assassinated a few months later.

Here was one of the first Of many incidents where
the forces Of Oppression and reaction seemed clearly
ranged on one side against the heroic determination Of
the revolutionary socialists who resisted with freedom
andsquality as their watchword. Spender wrote his first
long poem, Vienna‘Qn.this subject; his indignations
fired to the extent Of having this poem in print by
November of 1934. As a poem it seems to demonstrate
his prOper angry concern rather than any mature poetic
achievement.

In Vienna there is a sense of strain throughout,
particularly where political orthodoxy and the conven-
tional leftish pose destroy the human insight which
Spender needed to cherish. The danger he faced always
was that political conviction would swamp and destroy his
lyric gift. But in this age there was always the comple-
mentary danger that to ignore politics and seek only to
preserve the inner flame of lyric verse would cut him
from the main source Of humanist idealism. Political
belief would give social strength to the individualism

and emotion of his Verse and save him from the equally

 

163. Spender, Vienna, (London, 1934).

165

unsatisfactory possibility that he would produce nothing
but escapist or dilettante writing. In some Of the
poems he wrote while in Spain during the war, I hope
to demonstrate that he successfully absorbed political
awareness into verse that remained poetically honest.
In Vienna the political and the poetic aSpects do not
mesh; they are juxtaposed and seem to discredit rather
than reinforce each other. The use of various styles
seems to suggest an attempt to create a synthesis that
this is not successful. As a whole the poem leans heavily
on the structure of Eliot's Waste Lahd, and the Speeches
of Auden's plays.

The poem has, as dedication, two pessimistic lines
Of Wilfred Owen. These are at least suggestive of Spender's
awakening interest in a much neglected poet who was to be
a vital spiritual, if not technical, influence on him.

They will be swift with the swiftness of the tigress
None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.

Vienna begins with lines that read like a parody Of
Eliot at his repetitious worst:

Whether the man living or the man dying
Whether this man' s dead life, or that an S l' fe dying...
(Vienna ),p 3.

It continues with some sections of social gossip in the
Waste Land manner:

How much how much did that tie cost?

How much how much do you think I lost?

What do you earn?... Well if you know Latin

You' ll comprehend these festivities, penis in
cicensem...

I know she's a bitch but quite my type. (Vienna), p.14.

166
Throughout a couple of pages of lines like these there is
the constant repetition Of
Whether the man alive, or the man dying
and,

Whether the man living or the man dying. (Vienna),
p 7.

Obviously the repetition is supposed to create a rhetorical
tension; in fact, it becomes merely tiresome.

The Eliot influence is Obvious and touches Of Auden
can be found throughout the poem. Lines like the following
show an approval of Auden's poker-faced toughness that
masks very awkwardly Spender's reSponsive expression Of
compassion.

Therefore, therefore the moulding of History

Invests truth. Murder is necessary.

A scalpel excellently reduces

Warts, rebels. Even miracles

Have been performed, as the elimination Of voices

That contradict official faces. (Eggggg), p. 22.

Such nuggets stand out the more when they are interopersed
with Spender's occasional defiant lyricism. Spender soon
learned it was not in his nature to talk as Auden did of
"the necessary murder." He learned in Spain theiagony cnn-
coaled behind the smooth.arrangements for "reducing” and
9eliminating”.

Some lines have the exotic passion of his unleashed

sensual excitement which in their Own way mark the other

extreme of Spender's writing.‘ The pedestrian prOpaganda

and the passionate lyric mark, as it were, the extreme

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194
there is no attempt to ignore or dismiss what has happened,
for honesty is more important than any desire to explain
away such.an incident. In some ways an apologetic explana-
tion would in itself be a type of condemnation, for it would
insist upon the proper norm to which this soldier failed to
measure up. In this way one would be accepting the impli-
cations of that ”tower of lies.” the poet's understanding
is clear, but his compassion is boundless. The original

version is more tender, more personally committed than

the lines in ggllegted {oetzpz1

Who grasps his world of loneliness

Sliding into empty space;

I gather all my life and pour

Out its love and comfort here.

To papulate his loneliness,

1nd to bring his ghost release,

My love and pity shall not cases

For a lifetime at least. (§ti11 gegtzg). p. 60.

There's no excuse here for excuse.

Nothing can count but love, to pour

Out its useless comfort here.

To papulate his loneliness

And to bring his ghost release

Love and pity dare not cease

For a lifetime, at the least. (0 lected ),

p. e

 

31The distinction between these two stanzas shows in
the elimination of the personal pronoun on later
reflection. In the first version he writes “;_gather"
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line makes- e corrected rhythm rather~too obviously
regular in its stress. The opening lines of the
revised form, however, seem powerful and suggestive
compared with the exploratory hesitation of the

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,1

CECIL DAY LEWIS

Cecil Day Lewis, like the other three poets I am
considering, had to face the conflict between his upper-
class birth and education, and the liberal sympathies
based on socialist theory that his conscience dictated.
He was, in fact, more dedicated to the Communist ideas
than the others, for he was a politically active meme
ber of the Party from 1933-38. But he knew that at
Oxford, where he had studied the classics with great
distinction, he had acquired "the uniformyof a class,
of a way of thinking or of not thinking." He wanted to
achieve contact with the workers, believing in the
Communist vision of an egalitarian world, yet he knew
that his own poetry, literary, cerebal, could only be
a source of bewilderment to any ”worker” who might try
to grapple with its cryptic literary form. The sense
of being cut off from.the audience for whom.this new
socialist millenium was to be created, was a source of
frustration to all these poets. This feeling was aggra-
vated by a conscious guilt; for they were not ill-educa—
ted, diseased, suffering from.nalnutrition and unemploy-
ment. These poets faced the paradox that although they
felt a sympathy for the masses, they could not express
the complexities of their own feelings in words whose

228

229

simplicity or directness could gain them the wider
audience they sought. They never did solve the prob-
lem of translating their intellectual compassion into
the cruder rhetoric of popular verse, but they did
succeed in salvaging poetry from.the slappy repetition
of earlier nineteenth century platitudes which the
Georgians had considered the appropriate voice for
English verse.

Since the poets I am considering had so much in
common they are often seen in terms of one another.
Deutsch has summed up Day Lewis as "like Spender in
his attitude, like Auden in his technique.” Like most
generalizations this one has only a grain of truth.
The lyric quality found so often in Day Lewis' verse
is more exotic and vivid than Spender's quiet tender-
ness. One can admittedly find evidence of Auden's
technical influence in same of the tricks he borrows,
but such evidence is usually the mark of an inferior
poem. In Lewis' more significant work he exhibits a
style that is totally individual. In spirit he does
seem.closer to Spender's nature. More than once in
his autobiography, The Buried Day, he records exper-
iences that exhibit the same anxious self-doubt that
possessed Spender so markedly during his early years.

Day Lewis records being made to go to school in hated

230

eccentric leggings. "For the first time in my life
I got a full taste of what it is to be an Outsider.
I have never liked the taste."1 And a little later,
“I was only eight or nine when it occurred, a sense

2 Even more signifi-

of failure had begun to set in.”
cantly he recalls seeing a boy persecuted at school;
made the butt of all teasing and torment. His con-
cern leading to a general condemnation of God and the
whole system is akin to Spender's agonized compassion.
Day Lewis at this time felt the tug of sympathy, the
urge to approach, but he did not go to the boy's aid
in any way. His failure to do so remains a prick upon
his conscience.
To have made friends with this dismally unattrac-
tive boy would have been the equivalent of kiss-
ing a leper's sores- - and I was not a saint.
But to think that God or whatever means the Good
should make room in the scheme of things for
even one such scapegoat, one example of such un-
relived, unmerited wretchedness, seemed reason
enough later for me to follow Alyosha Karamazov
and return the ticket. 3
Lewis began his career by writing poems in a
lyric but highly derivative style as early as 1925
with Beechen Vigil. He no longer chooses to make

Juvenile fancies available but they are no worse, or

 

1 0. Day Lewis, The Buried Day'(London, 1960) p. 75.

2 Ibid, p. 80.
3 Ibid, p. 116.

231

even very different, from the usual writing of a sensi-
tive, literate young man more perceptive of books than
experience. His second slender volume County: Comets
is a collection of the poems he wrote between 1925 and
1927. By 1927 he mentions in his foreword that he is
already working on his next book which.was to have the

indicative title, Transitional Poem, Country Comets

 

seems a residual collection of the last poems in his
pro-Auden style. A stanza taken at random demonstrates
the type of poetry he was writing at this time, and its
quality. It seems to be an odd compound of the influ-
ences of Shelley and Fitzgerald's translation of 2555
Khazzam.

I'll brook no comfort watering down desire
Yet I cannot think my love a document

That one hand clasp will, when the paper
is spent,

Scrawl "finis" and toss upon the fire.

(W.) p. 20.

Transitional Poem.is Day Lewis' first serious poem in
the new idims. In this poem he debates at length the
conflict which preoccupied the other posts too. He
owed one loyalty to his class and upbringing, he owed
another, often conflicting one, to his conscience and
his belief in the necessity of social reform. To be
a.Marxist was to attack the principles of his family,
but to be neutral was a spiritual impossibility. In

fact the poem.demenstrates that the stylistic transi-

232

tion has already taken place. In contrast with his
earlier rather langorous views of the English country-
side, he begins to describe with passion and accuracy
the devastation of the economic system in England in
the years immediately after the Great Strike.4 In
lines that, like Auden's, make a strange prophecy
about the slump that hit England in the early thirties,
he records the evidence of physical decay that he sees
on every side, the apparent death of a system.

And now I passed by a forbidding coast

Where ironworks rust

On each headland, goats crop the salted grass
Steam oozes out of the mud. Earth has

No promise for the proprietors. (Collected goems),
p. 52.

This scene was not an isolated one; a single demonstra-
tion of failure, but representative of a time of
political and social metamorphosis. This was not a

lull but an ending.

_‘_._

4Compare for example the description of the
”forbidding coast with his nggtrx Comets
view of England, '(p. 5).

Here is green lacquer
Spread by the willows

On glossy water,

Where the ballet of minnows
Moving together

In lithe sarabande ...

...-..

‘O 00“

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233

You above all who have come to the far end,
Victims of a run-down machine, who can bear
it no longer,

Whether in easy chairs chafing at impotence
Or against hunger, bullies and spies,
Preserving the nerve for action, the spark

of indignation,

Need fight in the dark no more, you know your
enemies

You shall be leaders when zero hour is signalled
Wielders of power and welders of a new world.

(W). p. 151.
The "new wunfidmtae idea that dominated the thirties now
seemed possible. The artisan “welders"shows which side
the poet is on. The new industrial workers will now
be triumphant because the economic collapse has exposed
the "enemies." Those who had waited now see the truth.
"In the dark no more" they are to lead the attack on
the vested interests who had oppressed them. And the
poets would be the mouth-pieces; leaders of indignant
youth.
We learn to speak for all
‘Whose hearts here are not at home.
All who march to a better time
And breed the world for which they burn.
( e To Dance), p. 7.
Day Lewis saw evidence of the coming revolution on
every side:
Towns there are choked with desperate men

Scrap iron gluts the sidings here
Iron and men they mould for war.

(W). 9-21.

He feels a sense of dismayed shame, for every scene that

catches his attention seems a degenerate contrast to

234

the beauty that England had once known. The anger is
Just as intense when he clothes it in the sarcastic
parody of the beautiful old children's carol.‘ The
rhythm and very clause structure are so close to the
well known hymn.that its words intrude on the memory
commenting on this new version of the holy scene.

The hooters are blowing,

No heed let him.take;

When baby is hungry

'Tis best not to wake.

Thy mother is crying,

Thy dad's on the dole:

Two shillings a week is

The price of a soul. ( Dan e), p.55.

In.Magic Mountain his bitter diagnosis is more

acute than the hope symbolized throughout the poem.by
the mountain itself. There is sadness and hfimiliation
behind the anger of such.lines as these:

Come for a walk in our pleasant land

We must wake up early if we want to

understand.

The length and breadth and depth of

our decay

Has corrupted our vowels and clogged

our bowels

.Impaired our breathing, eaten our

pride away. (Collected Poems), p. 151.

It is easier to mutter Auden. One observes the

commonplace tricks; the tripping rhythm, the internal
rhymes, the heavy and rhyme and the brash, cheap at-
tempt to shock in the line about the vowels and bowels
but the difference is surely on another level, it is

in the tone. Day Lewis openly cares about it. Not

235

for him.Auden's cool detachment, he knows that am
an intellectual he shares part of the blame for this
situation:
Our holy intellectuals what are they at?
Filling in hard times with literary chat

Laying down the law where no one listens.
(Collected Poetry), p. 152.

 

He is prepared to share the blame, but he knows clearly
where most of it really lies, on the heads of those
glib and incompetent politicians who offer "what seems
a bargain but in the long run will cost you your honor,
your crops and your son." In a flood of vehement
rhetoric,echoing Auden's style he attacks the whole
bunch of them:

What do they believe in these yellow

yes men

Pansies, politicians, prelates and
pressmen

Boneless wonders, unburstable bouncers
Backslappers, cheerleaders, bribed
announcers

Broadcasting the all-clear as the raiders
draw near;

Would mend a burst dam.with sticking

plaster
And hide with shocked hand the yawn of
disaster. (Collected Poetry), p. 151.

 

Poetically this is not satisfactory. The slick alli-
teration of the first four lines suggests a contrived
cleverness; a use of words for their convenient sounds
rather than their meanings:' The issue is too serious
for the tasteless humor of the "unburstable bouncers."

The metaphor of the last line is impressive though,

236

coupling the idea of the superficial social etiquette
of the concealed yawn.with the implied imminence of
the "yawning" horror that looms ahead. It suggests
well the way those in power went through the polite
social ritual of a dozen conference failures, while
behind their posturings disaster appeared.//
Auden's influence, however, permeated this decade,

and Day Lewis is as willing as any of the posts to
emulate the style of the Auden jingle. As Day Lewis

confesses,

Although I had certain half-conscious reser-
vations about him.I willingly became his
disciple where poetry was concerned. . .
all this proved so infectious that my own
verse became for a time pastiche Auden.

(The Buried Day), p. 17?.

Consider the borrowed middle rhymes and the driving
brash cockiness of the following lines:

Then don't blame me when you're up a tree,
No trains coming through and you're feel-
ing blue,

When you're left high and dry and you want
to cry

When you're in the cart and you've got a
weak heart

When you're up a pole and you can't find
your soul. (Collected Poems), p. 110.

What can one say about such stupid futilities? This
kind of hack writing could be continued indefinitely,
unrestrained by a need for meaning. There are many

other examples of this unhappy emulation. One can

237

observe the jazz rhythms of the following lines where
the lilting couplets barely make sense at all:

Make no mistake this is where you get off,

Sue with her suckling, Cyril with his cough

Bert with.a blazer and a safety razor,

Old John Braddlebwm and Terence the Toff.

(Collected Poems), p. 109.

Even when the syncOpated lines make sense there is a
vulgar hectoring tone ill becoming a lyric poet.

Fireman and farmer, father and flapper

I'm speaking to you sir, please drop

that paper;

Don't you know its poison? Have you

lost all hope?

Aren't you ashamed ma'm to be taking

dope? (Collected Poems), p. 132.

Clearly the excesses of Auden's influence had to
be resisted if Day Lewis were to develop as a poet.
He had two significant individual qualities which al-
lowed’him.to find alternatives to such extreme stylis-
tic faults and lapses of taste. These qualities were
a sense of human unity and the experience of love,
especially a deep love of England. These emotions could
be expressed with an instinctive and sometimes dazzling
lyrioisme
Lewis's affection for England lay deeper than an

easy patriotism and did not preclude his questioning
the whole accepted ethos under which he had been brought
up. From.his own experience of life at Sherbourne he

was highly suspicious of the pre-suppositions under

238

which British public schools educated a ruling colonial
elite. He doubted the present relevance of the tough
regime of cold baths, fagging and the cane which rein-
forced conformity and destroyed the natural human
being by aiming to form the narrow, minor vice of ”the
cool cad."

White hcpes of England here

Are taught to rule by learning to obey

Bend over before vested interests

Kiss the rod; salute the quarter dedk.

Here is no savage discipline

Of peregrine swooping, of fire destroying

But a civil code; no capital offender

But the cool cad. (Collected Poems), p. 132.
This is not major poetry and one questions what Auden's
famous hawk symbol (here disguised as a peregrine) is
doing, but it is honest, concerned verse. He has be-
gun to re-think the relevance of the values that he
had been forced to accept in his youth. Britain had
to face the rising power of totalitarian government
with ideas which, when not hypocritical, were ossified.
The playing fields of Eton were demonstrably not going
to win the next Waterloo. The highrmoralled intellec-
tuals were to learn that the next war would be fought

under less gallant rules:

But will it suffice
To wear a scrum.cap against the falling skies?
"Play the game"--but supposing the other
chap kicks

You'd like to have learnt some rough house
tricks.

It boils down to this, do you really want

239

to win

Or prefer the fine gesture of giving in?

Are you going to keep, or to make the rules

Die with the fighters or be dead with fools.
(Collected Poems), p. 119.

 

These deliberately conversational lines are slightly
pedestrian, but Day Lewis is seriously questioning ac-
cepted ideas, and the issue is as important today as
then. To what extent do powers that deny your values
deserve to be treated by the standards in which you
believe? Can one retain a political morality and still
compete with those who accept treachery and dishonesty
as natural tools? If you give up your morality are
you any better than those who contemptuously deny it?
Clearly Lewis is addressing the wavering moralists

and pacifists of the upper-class left. "Scrum-cap”

is a snob item.of sports equipment which further iden-
tifies his public school audience.

However much Day Lewis is forced to record the de-
cay in the landscape about him, and question the stan-
dards Britain now accepted, he looks forward always
from the decay of the present to a different future.

In From.Feathers to Iron, while observing some dis-
used.mines he expresses his hope:
But we seek a new world through old

workings
Whose hepe lies like seed in the bones

of the earth. (Collected Poems), p.76.

The poem develops to a climax of lyrical power as Lewis

240

praises the loveliness of the English countryside.
You that love England, who have an ear
for her music
The slow movement of chords in benediction
Clear arias of light thrilling over her
uplands
Over the chords of summer sustained peace-
fully.
Ceaseless the leave's counterpoint in a
west wind lively,
Blossom and river rippling loveliest
allegro. (Collected Poems), p.150.
The music metaphor does not seem.obtrusive or strained
here in spite of its lengthy development. The long,
slow syllables have a sustained lyric beauty. Here
is the other Day Lewis, a poet with an ear attuned
to grace and loveliness.

Spender had attempted to combine his instinctive
lyric style with the imagery of the materialist tech-
nology that was develOping round him, and Day Lewis
also sought for a reconciliation in the extremes of.
his nature by deriving his imagery from this contemr
porary experience. Too often the two elements re-
main defiantly separate; their only connection is in
their temporary juxtaposition in the poems I believe
the lines below demonstrate one of the failures of
this attempt. The method is to contrast the new "gas-
works" image with a conventionally poetic one. The

device here, invalidates any last element of response

the tired lyric element might produce but does not add

241

anything new in itself. Note how the reference to
"bud" is deflated by the absurd "gasometer.”
Look here the gasometer rises

And here bough swells to bud.
(Collected Poems), p.78.

 

In other verses he employs the train metaphor
which seemed to fascinate the group. As in Spender's
"Express" the attempt is made to make technology moti-
vame emotional participation. The following examples
suggest simply that Lewis assumes that if he employs
this kind of image, his poem will automatically be-
come up to date and important. Obviously however,
the mere utilization of a train metaphor does not fill
the void where there is a lack of original meaning.
Consider the following lines selected virtually at
random from.the numerous poems that use this symbol.

The tracks of love and fear
Lead back till I disappear
Into the ample terminus

From.which all trains draw out.
(Collected Poems), p.35.

 

Here is love's junction, no terminus,
He arrives at girl or boy.
Signal a clear line.

(Collected Poems). P.68.

As a train that travels underground track
Feels current flashed from far off dynamos
Our wheels whirling with impetus elsewhere
Generated we run, are ruled b rails.
(Collected Poems), p.76.

Let us be off! Our steam
Is deafening the dome

 

242

The needle in the gauge
Points to a long-banked rage.
(Collected Poems), p.111.

 

Sometimes it is car engines that appeal:

1... and then life's pistons

Pounding into their secret cylinder

Begin to tickle the most anchorite ear.
(Collected Poems) p. 25.

The following "electrical" image is probably used iron-
ically, but it is an extreme example of the problem
with which the poet was grappling.

God is an electrician

And they that worshép him.must worship him

In ampere and volt.
(Collected Poems), p. 13h,

 

It appears he was seeking to exchange his natural
sense of beauty for the shining prize of modernity and
the slick contemporary touch. His determination to
mould his lyric style into the csrebal control of Auden
is implied, I think, in the following lines. He de-
clares his need for the hard formal shape in life and,
by extension, in his verse.

It is certain we shall attain
No life till we stamp on all
Life the tetragonal

Pure symmetry of brain.
(Collected Poems), p.9.

 

5The next stanza is similar:

God is a statistician;
Offer him all the data; tell him.your dreams,
What is your lucky number?

2#3

Luckily his poetry vigorously resisted that ”tetra-
gonal” mould.

He saw that beauty did still exist but its cause
and origin had been extended. The poetic beauty was
no longer found only in the Georgian poets' country-
side, it appeared in new and unexpected places. It
was new in form, but the old rapture could still be
experienced..

Beauty breaks ground, ch in strange places
Seen after cloudburst down the boundary
water course,

In Texas a great gusher, a grain

“Elevamor in the Ukraine plain

To a new generation turns new faces.
(Collected Poems), p.92.

 

The ”new faces" were sought with a fresh excitement
and poets realised that even the apparently ugly thing
acquired its own beauty.

This glum.canal will ...

Show that beauty is

A.motion of the mind

By its own caprice

Directed or confined.

(Collected Poems). Poh9.
In the dank canals and swollen gasometers they sought
their new experience.
Many times Day Lewis avoided the ”pylon" imagery

altogether, and then his verse is flooded with a con-
ventional but shining beauty. Semetimes in his love

poems the lyricism.is calm.and cool; gently loving

244

verses such as these:

Now she is like the white tree rose
That takes a blessing from the sun;
Summer has filled her veins with light
And her warm heart is washed with neon.
(Collected Poems), p.70.

 

Or,

My love is so happy you might well say

One of Hellenes summers had lost its way

And taken shelter underneath her breast.

(Collected Poems), p.36.

Here the mood of calm love expresses itself in the
common images of roses and summer, and yet they seem
revived and appropriate; avoiding the stock response
by the sincerity of their tone and the real affec-
tion.they express.

At other times his lyrics have a sudden exotic
intensity which flares and dazzles. One finds this
in such a breathtaking phrase as ”When honeysuckle
and summer suffocate the lane." "Suffocate' suggests
the wild growth of the plants but also our breath-
less reaction to such a surfeit of beauty. Bril-
liance of color can be maintained for a whole poems
No other poet in this decade could have produced the
rhapsodic lines of‘gaple_and Sumach. It begins with
the sudden pictorial impact of "Trees spend a year of
sunsets in their pride," and then develops to the

exultant thrill of:

245

‘Your leaves drenched with the life-blood

of the year

What flamingo dawns have waved from the east

What eves have crimsoned to their toppling

crest'

To give the flame and transience you wear?

(Overture to Death), p.13.
One's first impression maybe surprise that the poet
can write these slightly extravagant lines without any
self-consciousness. The eager rhythm has a rhetorical
certainty that denies any sense of pastiche. (The "life-
blood of the year" image combining blood color with
the idea of death in the Fall of the year is not origi-
nal, but I do not know where it has been more color-
fully developed. "Flamingo" with its indication of
the delicate pink of the bird's color against the blue
sky is an evocative presentment of the first pinkness
of the rising sun and dawn skies. The sun "tepples'
as it sets in the evening and both the pink and the
crimson are combined in the flaming beauty of the trees'
autumnal colors. Perhaps there is a hint of the scar-
let crest of the cock in the use of "crest" to describe
the peak of the evening's color.,
This kind of writing seems to show a strong in-

stinctive voice of Day Lewis although one may perhaps
detect a tint of Hopkinsh lush richness. Hopkhnh’

style was already a strong influence in this decade:

it battled against the harsh precision of Eliot's

246

influence had begun to wane, when after The Waste Land
his verse had become so woolly and diffuse. These
lines are clearly a deliberate capy of Hopkins' rhythm
and alliterative style:

If anywhere, love lips, flower flaunt,

crimson of cloud crest

With flames impassioned told of the

pacing shadows....

(Overtures),p.29.

But to point out Hopkins' possible influence does not
constitute an explanation of Day Lewis' work, and his
own sense of the romantic scene is inherent through-
out much of his poetry. Even as late as the middle of
the war a poem such as Night Piece contains the same
sense of beauty in its imagery, when he describes the
lovers: '

They are laid in the grass and above

Their limbs a syringa blossoms

In brief and bridal white

Under whose arch of moonshine

The impotent is made straight.

(Overture to Death), p.5h,
The description of that "arch of moonshine," is as
lovely as those earlier “flamingo dawns," but the
words create a mood as much as a picture.) A conflict-
ing element intrudes in the last two lines with their
awkwardly suggestive phallic symbolism.
Now that the poet's vision had been freed from

the restriction of unnatural emulation he began to

247

develop a very characteristic kind of image. It
clearly owes something to the metaphysical poets
who were so highly regarded in this era. There is
that unexpected linking of two highly dissimilar and
unexpected things which form a triumphant amalgam when
the device is successful. The contrasts Day Lewis
creates combine the conventionally poetic and the
everyday thing which is unexpected in this context.
I have already indicated the false start in this style
which Lewis made in such comparisons as the gasometer
and the bough. Now the comparisons are more certain;
their effect more poetically controlled. Reality
decides the choice of the metaphor rather than the
decision to pay lip service to "pylon" tricks. Some-
times the image had a jaunty bravado, which flaunts its
unusual comparison:

Admiral earth breaks out his colours

Bright at the forepeak of the day.
(Collected Poems), p.73.

 

This is a little hearty perhaps, but its cheerfulness

is very suitable in its context and the metaphor bears

a closer examination of its contrast. "Breaks," for
example, combines the technical term for raising the
flags with the idea of day-break, and "forepeak" suggests
not only the forward mast but the first indication of

day ' s dawning .

248

In other examples the technique is more subtle.
Consider:

Dawn like a reyhound leapt the hill t0ps.
%Collected Poems), p. 116.

Here dawn is compared with the dog because of its
color, its speed and perhaps the shape of its thin
line as it first appears on the horizon. The image
is unusual but not eccentric, and after the mind,
stepped by its originality, has inspected its impli-
cations it is seen to be successful, because it alters
and extends our vision of the scene. In a similar way
the charming image of the child's game creates a new
view of a conventional sea description.

Once I watched a young ocean laugh and

shake .

With spillikins of aspen light.

(222313). 13.25.

The Victorian game I'spillikins" is a fancier ver-
sion of the American game "pick-up-sticks." The spil-
likins make a pile of slender, colored splints like
aspen needles. The ocean is young and its ripples re-
mind the poet of the giggling child trying to main-
tain a steady hand. The light reflected from these
ripples is also like the spillikins; slender shafts,
jumbled without form into a.muddle of varied colors.

At first this image may seem too cute, then it appears
colorfully appropriate.

249

The shmile in the next line is also effective.
Now the poet is observing the urban scene rather than
conventional nature. He moves,

Down wet streets gleaming like patent
leather. (Short Is The Time), p.59.

The comparison is effective in its color and texture,
but there is more, I think, hmplied. Patent leather
is cheaply glossy and highly artificial, and the poet
is making a similar assertion about the streets of
this town.
The similes extend until they include the poet's
own work. With sudden self-doubt he sees his verse as
Our words like poppies love the maturing
field
But form no harvest.
(Short Is The Time), p.67.
Here the idea of a flower beautiful, but virtually a
weed in a field which produces other useful, net merely
ornamental, crops again demonstrates that symbolic
usage which is becoming a controlled and effective fea-
ture of Day Lewis's verse.
One further example will indicate the growing com-
pression the poet is achieving. The simile has given

place to the greater compression of the metaphor.

Between cast-iron past and plastic future.

(EM) 9 Poll-80

At one level this is a clever piece of compressed his-

tory. The Industrial Revolution which created the

250

environment in which these writers lived was the era
of cast iron. In the thirties the first of the new
plastics such as celluloid were being marketed. But
the line allows two further relevent assumptions. Cast
iron is solid and permanent, admirably hard and long
lasting. Plastic is often cheap, temporary and ghm-
crack. These materials are considered as epitomizing
the values of their ages. A third assertion.maysbe
made. ‘While the past is now cast and unchangeable, the
future is plastic, softly malleable, its shape rest-
ing in the hands of those who live in this age. This
complexity of meanings underlying and reinforcing each
other is the mark of the most mature poetry.

If the single image became more surely handled
as Day Lewis' style developed, he also utilized the
long developed metaphor with increasing confidence.
I have indicated the technique earlier when I des-
cribed the music image in the poem beginning You who
love England. It is a device that the poet handles
with increasing skill, particularly when he avoids the
constant comparisons with engines and trains. One can
find an early example of this technique in Desire is a
'Witgh. This is not a very effective poem because again
Lewis takes a voice that is not his own. Influenced

probably by Eliot's experiments with the new jazz

251

rhythms he produces the following lines which could

6 That com-

well be the words for a popular hit song.
ment, I suppose, is simultaneously a praise and a
criticism of their effectiveness.

Desire is a witch

And runs against the clock

It can unstitch

The decent hem

Where space tacks on to time.

It can unlock

Pandora's provinces.7
This is a little crude, but in the development of the
metaphor of sewing through "unstitching", "hem?, and
"tacking" there is an early hint of the way in which
Day Lewis will be successful. The idea of desire un-
stitching the shrouding cover of decency and estab-
lishing its own standards of place and time is inter-
esting if not entirely convincing. More successful is

the following example of a similar device, the single

 

6He does in fact, like Auden, take a delight in the
syncopated rhythms of the night club song. Nothing
really divides the following verse from the ”ppp"lyric.

Love's my distraction,

I'd have you know.

Each little word, each fit of actions-
Love says no, love says go,

Love says wait a bit and time will show.

7Collected Poems 1%36, pg.26.
Pecul ar y enough s innocuous verse was considered

”extremely, excessively sexual." So much so that it
led to the demand for his resignation from his teach-
ing position at Sherbourne.

(The Buried Day p.197L

252

image rationally extended over a number of lines,
each adding to the effectiveness of its original
impact.

This is the interregnum of my year.

All the Spring except the leaf is here

All the Winter but the cold

Bandage of snow for the first time unrolled

Lays bear the wounds given when any fate

And most men's company could humiliate

Sterilized man. Yet still they prick
And pulse beneath the skin. (Col ted P ems),

p. .
Here the conventional idea of the white snow coming
like a bandage to cover the earth wounded by its
autumnal dying, is carried forward. The spring thaw
removes the bandage and life, only temporarily frozen,
warms and revives, feeling its tortured body as the
winter's anaesthetic wears off. The poet identifies
himself with this experience. The winter had also
made him "sterilized" but new the spring has revived
the old dismaying "wounds” that still "prick".

Day Lewis uses this development very effectively
in his love poetry too. Here the comparison is made
between the loved woman and a rock.

You, first, who ground my lust to love upon

Your gritty, humourous virginity
Then yielding to its temper suddenly

253

Proved what a Danube can be struck from stone.8
The image describes the grindstone wearing away and cut-
ting off baser material and the damaged exterior until
it polishes the beautiful heart of the gem; the spark-
ling core of love. Only the imaginative eye can see
what beauty exists within the stone before the grinding
wheel had given it lustre and polish. The woman can
recognize the potential fineness of his crude passion,
and is the means to create its refinement. ”Gritty"
continues the geological metaphor of abrasion, yet
because it hints at the slang meaning of grit, deter-
mination and integrity, we begin to see the quality of
this woman. The "humourous” is high praise, for
without that virginity could only be retained by priggish-
ness of too rigid morality. The 'rock" image continues
in the idea of nthe struck stone, and one recalls Moses
in the desert, Now the water flow is not a drinking
spring, though the idea of refreshment is present, it
is a whole gushing river of passion as huge as the

Danube. The river is not only the largest in

 

8Cgilected Poems, p. 18. A similar metaphor is
use on ano er occasion, p. 27.
Embrace and ultimate bone between I

Always have interposed
Strata undiagnosed
In love's geology.

..A

- I-
.V\ v
. l
a. .
.
I .
i x
I-
-.
...
.. L
. .
n
w t
.
...
O ..
. 1
. . .
.
A
4
.
a
.

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.
.
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f
. .
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.
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.
.
.
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.
.

254

Europe but has traditionally been associated with lovers.

One could magnify the number of examples but I think
I have offered sufficient to supgart my case that when Day
Lewis could avoid the emulation of Auden's worst stylis—
tic tricks hc could write in an original and confident
tone which links itself to an harmonious tradition of
English poetry deeper and stronger than the sometimes
facile eXperiments of the poetry of the thirties. But
even when the mature voice seems achicv,c there are
regular and repeated lapses into the very worst fatuities
of Auden's false over-heartiness; what has been aptly
called his "scoutmasterish" tone. It is usually rather
feeble and inappropriate in Auden; it is made so much
worse in Day Lewis by being so consciously affected, so
deliberately second-hand.

You'll be leaving soon and it's up to you boys

Which shall it be? You must make your choice

There's a war on you know. (Collected Poems), p. 118.
That this is false is clear since the phrase "There's a
war on" was a catch-phrase of English comedians always
worth a belly laugh.

He also employs the knowing first-names with which
Auden used to amuse the clique audience for whom he some-

times wrote.9

9Compare Auden's Orstors (p.102)
Off to tell Francis and Rex you are come
With a greeting from me and Derek my chum.
Cr,

U

Here is a voic saying Wystan, Stephen, Christo-
pher all of you - Road of your losses. (p. 81).

255

Then I'll hit the trail for that promising land
May catch up with Wystan and Rex my friend.
(Collected Poems), p. 111.

Another feature of Auden's verse was the constant
repetition of two images which became a kind of trade
mark. Theya were the airman and the eagle. Both obviously
suggest something above the world, existing in an untramel-
led environment. Obviously these images could be highly
effective though they were overworked. Day Lewis uses
them to pay absurd flattery to Auden by insisting that
10

he was both the eagle and the airman.

Look west Wystan, lone flyer, birdman, my bully boy!
...No wing room for Wystan, no joke for kestrel joy.

Gain altitude Auden, then let the base beware
Migrate chaste my kestrel, you need a change of air.
(Collected Poems), p.128.

The crudity of these lines can be measured by the lapses
in the vocabulary, and there is no evidence, alas, of self-
conscious parody or joke. Even "bully boy", and "change
of air" are tired old phrases that do not appear to be
used ironically.

So the old dangers were always near, constantly
threatening to swamp the clear natural voice with lines

and even whole poems of triviality and vulgarity. Such

problems of tone were so foreign to Day Lewis's true

 

10Compare the opening lines of Magnetic Mountain.
They exhibit again that odd amalgam of influence;
Auden and Hopkins.
Now be with you elate, unshared
My kestrel joy, 0 Hoverer in the wind.
(Collected Poems), p. 107.

256

nature as a poet that they had to be borrowed to exist
at all and they were used in his weaker moments without
being digested. What is a little disconcerting is to
find the two styles co-existing within a single long
poem, as though Day Lewis did not perceive the immediate
superiority of writing in his own idiom. He seems too
dazzled with the "patent leather" sheen of some slick
verse which he admired and emulated. He apparently be-
lieves its surface gloss was the shine of poetic signi-
ficance.

History did not allow the poet to cultivate his
garden. European politics seemed to have created a
machine that was carrying everyone to an obvious but
inescapable disaster. For once the commonplace couplets
seem to be justified by the concern; there is no room
for cleverness in the face of disaster.

And now may I ask have you made any plans?

You can't go further along these lines;

Positively this is the end of the track

It's rather late and there's no turn back.

(Collected Poems), p. 109
The poet is arguing from frustration, trying to insist
that people must meet their reSponsibilities. In the
face of the defiance of the League of Nations and the
shameful intentions of the Hoare-Laval agreement, Day
Lewis felt a sense of hopelessness. He found himself

part of a generation who could not enforce a decision or

make a choice,

257

a generation

Whose only faith is the piling of fact on fact in
the hope that

Someday a road may be built of

them and may lead

somewhere.

The slump and the international failure seemed to be

undermining their capacity for creative change, although

when Huxley had come out with his scathing attack on the

politics of the intellectuals What are You Going to do

about it?, it was Day Lewis who was

 

angry reply called We are not going

the spokesman in an

to do nothing. The

opportunity to do something was presented by the Spanish

Civil War. Suddenly a choice was possible.

11 No longer

did the committed intellectuals have to accept the rising

power of totalitarianism passively.. They could refuse to

suffer the abdications of responsibility forced upon them

by the failures of their leaders at
Now there seemed an issue which was
was clear for taking action. Spain
for a crusade that might redeem the
the land.

Day Lewis wrote only two poems

 

11In the Buried Dgy though now
emotionally he still accepts
of the diagnosis.

the conference table.
clear-cut, and a way
offered the chance

age while it liberated

Specifically about the

seeing the issues less
the general correctness

But though I doubt if any cause was ever
"righteous" enough to justify the pain, misery
and evil which war brings with it, and though

I admire the courage of
less (and no more) than
of front line soldier,

the pure pacifist no
I admire the courage

I could not myself opt

out of the human condition as to some degree

the pacifist must do.

I believe a poet should

be involved as far as his nature and circum-
stances allow it, in the main stream of human

eXperience. (P. 86).

258

Spanish war but they are both very significant. They are

The Volunteer dedicated to the International Brigade, and

 

The Ndbara which concerns a naval battle.

 

The Volunteer is a lyric describing the motives in-

 

volved in making the decision to fight in Spain. Day
Lewis appears to identify himself so closely with the
idealistic vision that caused men to join the Brigade
that it is rather regrettable to have to record that he
did not himself volunteer in Spite of the pressures of
conscience. The motives for his refusal were only those
of self-preservation.

I had a heavier weight on my conscience: the

International Brigade was formed, and I believed

that I ought to volunteer for it, but I lacked the

courage to do so. (Euried Day), p. 219.

It would be improper however, to belabour this moving
poem with the biographical facts of Lewis' own limitations.
The poem remains a deeply felt assertion of eternal moral
values. It makes a sublime credo for a generation which
is so often accused of apathy and cynicism. It has the
nobility of Rupert Brooke's war poetry, but it avoids his

(‘3
.‘fi

sentimentality. It is Brooke with Open e;es, for after 191
there could not be the same kind of instinctive idealism
and unthinking, though sincere bravado, For this generation
twenty years after, the decision had to be carefully thought
out. If the resulting daermination was to fight it would
be coolly honest and totally rational rather than fervent

and instinctive. They regretted the necessity of war but

259 .
they did not doubt its significance. In this respect,
with the possible exception of Spender, the poets avoided
the implication of Wilfred Owen's universal compassion in
the face of the were malignant pointlessness. The Spanish
War was not inexplicable, and victory for one side or the
other would make a difference. If the Republicans won
the dictators and all they stood for would be defeated.

If the Government lost then Europe too would be lost:
swamped under the rising tide of totalitarian power.
This belief, however much history has demonstrated its
craggeretion, caused them to volunteer for this war even
while they retained a profound intellectual certainty con-
cerning the pointlessness of the previous European Var.
Theycontinued to condemn the victors' failure to preserve
shy worthwhile peace. The strong pacifism amongst intel-
lectuals based on international cynicism vanished when
the Spanish Usr seemed to be caused by issues in which
they could believe more confidently than the discredited
partiotism of 1914. Because the War in Spain appeared so
clearly a battle for ideology rather then territory or
concessions, it seemed possible to fight with a clear
sense of faith; a belief that more worthwhile issues than
national prestige were at stake. They could make the assump-
tion that victory would bring some devoutly desired change.
In ghe Volunteer there is none of that pompous and

 

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260
ersatz dedication of Binyon;
or the unctuous rendering of
the sincerest declaration of
is both noble and profoundly

when the two could rarely go

none of the hymns of pride

"Lest we forget." It is
the crusading Spirit. It
honest, and this was an age

together. Cynicism and des-

gair had debunked the pretensions of idealistic sacrifice.

Soldiers had been

Tell them in
What brought

England if

caught once too often.

they ask

us to these wars

To this plateau beneath night's

Grave manifold of

stars.

It was not fraud or foolishness,

Glory, revenge or pay

We came because our Open eyes

Could see no other way.

There was no other way to keep

“'1“

These

burned briefer not less

Beyond the wasted olive

man's flickering truth alight,
stars will witness that our course

brigit.

groves

The furthest lift of land
There calls a country that was ours
And here shall be regained.

Shine to us memoried and real

Green water,

silken meads

Rivers of home refresh our path
Whom here your influence leads.

Here in

a parched and stranger place

We fight for England free

rThe
The

The fi‘st thins

U

rhythm.

one observes

good our fathers won for her
land they hOped to see.

(Overtures to Death),
p. 50.

is the quality of the

The poem uses very regular iambics but the lines

seem so natural that they appear to have an almost conver-

sational simplicity and a flexible, easy strength.

The

261
tone is throughout gentle, simple, with a quiet lyric
sincerity. The theme of these verses is the moral signi—

ficance of the decision of the soldiers of the International

t0

fight, far from their own countries, for the

O

rigade t
defense of the Spanish Republican Government. The honesty
of Day Lewis' feelings is exemplified by the almost pro-
saic avoidance of any excess poeticisms in the natural
colloquial explanation of the Opening lines. Conversation-
ally he begins, "Tell them in England if they ask.." This
slips easily into the description of the brilliance of the
stars in the rarefied air of th Spanish plateau, as the

:sddierflies looking up at "the night's grave manifold of

stars." The slow stress of these syllables, the powerful
associations occasioned by "manifold" and the solemnity
of "grave" create a hush before a moment of revelation.
This feeling is supported by the para-rhyme of "wars" and
'stars"which adds to the sense of hesitancy. Then comes
the strong rhythmic sweep of the second stanza as Day
Lewié offers his explanation. He begins with a list of
the elements which have, in the past, been the cause of a
soldier fighting.t’sncn in turn is explicitly rejected.
The soldiers in this international army did not come for
glory. After the battles of 1916 that word had little
appeal to a soldier; the glamour of war had been decisively
overwhelmed by a knowledge of its misery.i They were not

bribed b an im overished S anish government to fmmza new
P P c

army of looting mercenaries. Thsrdid not demand revenge

262

against the Fascists. Many of the battle groups from
Britain, France, U.S.A. and Canada had had no personal
contact with the Fascists at all. They came because,
observing their world from the standpoint of moral
justice, they "could see no other way." They had to
fight this Fascist ideology where it had at last shown
itself in Open battle rather than through the inner sub-
version which was so much harder to challenge. With

their "open eyes,' which were not dazzled by the thrill
of war, it seemed to them the only choice they could
make.

The third stanza is perhaps the least effective.
The rhythm becomes obtrusive. "Man's flickering truth"
sounds clicheic and is awkwardly develOped in the words
"burned briefer" which presumably must refer rather to
the soldiers" lives than mankind's truth. As if the poet
had realized the tension was weakening at this point he

chan es the tone slightly, and the next two stanzas are

more consciously lyric, moving with a serenabut stronger
lilt. {The poet begins to justify the importance of the

Spanish War even to a man such as Day Lewis himself, who

H H

felt such a firm prior patriotism for England. Spain calls
him because it now presents a double Opportunity, to re-
gain a legitimate government for Spain, and to redeem

the reputation of England whose politicians had so often

crassly temporized in its international reSpconsibilities.

26}

Victory would re-establish the idealism that Lewis be-

lieved once existed in England. England is still deeply

~_—

in his mind and the next stanza, which envisions that
England the loved, is pastorally beautiful. The repeated

' V
'm" and "3' sound seem t

k—b

create a s nse 0 country peace.

(D

O

-.

n. t

his vision includes both the "memoried a the "real."

L3
Q4

The contrast between the direct description of "green

water" and the Keatsian tone of "silken meads" indicates
the extremes, for his present vision includes the actual
memory and the romantic exagg ration.’ Bothtof-these are
precious to him, and both combine in his response to the
contrast between England and Spain. ‘As he thinks of the
"rivers of home" a yearning note arises, for he now Views
only Spain's contrasting "parched'plateau. Yet the rivers
seem also to symbolize English life, constant, steady,
refreshing; representing a truth which creates the sense

of values that brings him to this war. Paradoxically it

is his English patriotism that causes him to reject the
parochial and leads him to fight for a country other than
his own° Spain is strange to him but although the descrip-
tion makes an obvious contrast between the refreshing

.1

rivers of England and this desert plateau, the two snare

an identity of Spirit and here, paradoxically, "We fight

for England free." They are defending the ideals which
they had inherited from their fathers who had also struggled

1

for the same beliefs in England. Now the sons fight for

V

264

liberalis: and human dignity on this plateau. The history
of the last two lines is obvious. Their fathers fought
for ideals in England which they did not live to see
achieved. The volunteer now enjoying that land "they

oped to see" fix

3
cw

hts the same battle in Spain.//Thethish
to extend their own fortune to another country. They also
know that defeat here will bring about the destruction of
free England too and all that their fathers struggled for.
Their decision to fight becomes both practical and ideali-
tic. It is not only noble self-sacrifice, but also the
clearest self-interest.f There are few images in this

poem and the main one of the "flickering torch" is notable
primarily for its ineffectiveness. The tone the poet
wishes to achieve in this poem precludes the complexity

and compression which he has elsewhere achieved with his

T's

imagery. 7This lyric verse tender and restrained dfiectly
records an attitude that seems, even today when we can

look back on its failure, fine and noble. The value and
significance of their decision cannot be judged in terms

of success and failure. The International Brigade was dis—
banded, Franco remains triumphant, but their decision was
right then and looking back there is still no other that
could have been made. More than any other poem these Verses
with their tender lyricism and restrained eXplanations ex—
press the real choice that was offered to these men. When

such selfless decisions;arewade the world is anDbl d by them.

265

(0

De "onstiatins his wide technical r1n3e Day Lewi
chose as the subject of his second poem concerning tne
Span sh stru33le a lon3 narrative sea poem which in form

calls th conventional nineteenth century. It is

called The genera. Day Lewis had previously attempted

 

‘\

such a narrative in a lengthy section of h Time to Pancr

(L)

This poem concerr ed the pioneering fli3ht of Parer and
tosh to Australia, which was a heroic feat considering
the di ifchulty of he route and the shoddiness of the
3ed plane which they used, "a craft of obsolete desi3n,
a condemned D. H. 9." It is really a stran3ely unattrac-
tive and po ointless poem. It seems to have tthree levels,
the prosaic offerin3 of technical or geographic informa-
tion, clicheic similes and poeticisms, and lines of oddly
excessive rhetoric lixe a speech at Comme ncesent It
is ha.rdly worthy of nmu h detailed consideration, but I
will illustrate my jud3ments so that I can establish a
critical foundation to be3in comments on the more success-
ful poern The Na bare,

In the first place the ordinary eXplanation which
admittedly must make part of a consecutive narrative is
needless y flat. The folbwin3 may ce cons id rec typical
examples:

At Lyons the petrol pump failed again. (AT we to Dance)

Over Italy's shores
A reverse, the oil ran out. p.

p. 37.

Baghdad renewed a a prOpeller damaged in desert.

The cliches are found sometimes in actual p
sometimes in the second-hand response created by some
sections. One could not challenge the occasional common—

‘I

place phrase but here their number suggests a asual mani-

wk)

1
V

pulation of appropriate counters rather taan an original
composition. Some will perhaps appear unexceptionable

but the many individual doubts build up to make a case

’1

r land ~ood-

Q)

t demands ritical judgment. "Kissed En

CH;
0

M

ti
bye;" "we rubbed our sleepy eyes; "time hung heavy

I l o ‘ O '
on hand;" "tne panting engine;" "tne 301n3 was 300d3'
"they chafed to be off." These examples are all culled

from the first page of this poem.

Th tvle includes debaSed Hepkins in the contrived

U

(D

S

3

U" Of

0.

word pl

{'2

For no silver posh
Plane was their pigeon, no dandy dancer quick-
stenpi13 through heaven. (A Time to
DanbeT:_E.

Or,
Over, side-slipped away -- a trick for an ace, 3

race
And running duel with death. (A Time to D

m

Then there is the strained crescendo of such a line as:

.,

neir element, their lover, their angel antagonist.
(A Tire to Dance), p. 34.

T

Or the more prosaic listing of:

267

A patch, brittle as matchs tick, a bucble a lift
for a ghos t. (A Time to
Duncel} p.37.

But these features of the style are the result, as

L3
...}.
I...)

much as the cause, of the f~ ure of this poem. The failure
is not a the technical level but in the lack of control
and shape in the theme. Striving for the poetic to re—
lieve the aridity of the story bay Lewis calls a landing
"alighting on sward." The maddening and common omission
of the article presumably aims at susaestine universalitv,

_. Q 0

like the commentators in "Yesterday's Nerreel. Or he

approaches allegory with "

the powers of hell rallied
their lesions." Note the supposedly poetic inversions
of the following lines:
Feats for a hurired fli3tts, they were pr odigc l of;
a fairest
Now to tell -- hor th ey foiled death when the eng ine
failed. H Time to
De t1), p. 40.
Throu3hout there is a sense of strain and perhaps of indif-
ference, for half way throu 3h he commands his flagging pen
"Orchestrate this theme ar ti fi er poet. In ma ine the roll,

crackling percussion, quichening tempo of engine for a

0

{

start."1' Worst of all is the failure to let the bravery
appear in itself as we learn of the actions. Our noses
are too often rubbed in the hectoring assertions of

courage.

 

123 Time to Dance, p. 39.

268

(they) shirked not the odds, the deaths that lurked
A million to one on their tail. (a Tire to Dance)

1*;

p0 L+Llo

The exaggeration goes beyond the absurd in such lines as:

Till they came at last to a land whose dynasties
of sand

Had seen Alexander, Napoleon, many a stradling
invader

But never none like these. p. 37.

I have discussed this inauSpicious poem at perhaps

cessive length to indicate the failure of Lewis' handling

r4

e;

of this form before he eXperienced the Spanish fighting.

v

flit The Taber? he is more succesSful.

5.

 

This poem rather naturally recalls such battle narra-
tives of the last century as Henry Newbolt's The Revenge.

It describes an incident which is told in G. L. Steer's

*3

novel, The -ree of Gernika. The story in Steer's book

 

concerns the daring but hopeless attempt of the government

k.)

trawler "Nabara" to give battle to the rebel warship

" This poem has received high praise as a new

"Canaries.
example of an important tradition, but I find that I have
some reservations about its value, although there is much to
admire. It seems sincere and gives no impression of being

a mere pastiche, and yet it fits just a little too comfor-
tably within the structure of the conventional form. There
is little evidence of that "splitting at the seams" which
marks an art form extended to a greater validity by new
usage. Yet on the positive side there is no posing, little

of the phony under-statement of the British traditional

sea epic. There is little heroics though sometimes the

269

rhetoric is slightly over-anxious, a shade too eager.
Unlike its nineteenth centunrcounterparts this poem

does show considerable technical dexterity. The rhythm
is varied and flexible, the rhyme scheme often employs
the device of para-rhyme which Day Lewis had appropriated
from the poems of Wilfred Owen, whom he greatly admired.
Above all the difference shows in the political earnest-
ness which saves it from any Jack the Giant Killer mes—
sage. and gives point and value to the heroism which en s
in defeat. Day Lewis sees the action in terms of ideology
as well as patriotism. Satisfactory as much of the nar-
rative is, it is probably significant to note that the
best sections of this poem are found in the beginning

and the end outside the incident of the sea-fight proper.

(D

In these s ctions the poet examines the nature and mean-

ing of tne sacrifice the fishermen made in fighting till
death against such absurd odds.

The poem begins with a discussion of the importance
of freedom.
Freedom is more than a word, more than the base
. coinage
Of statesmen, the tyrant s dishonoured chegue, or
. the dreamer 8 mad
Inflated currency. (Overtures to Death), p. 41.
This is typical of Day Lewis's handling of the extended
metaphor as I have discussed earlier. Clearly freedom

is refined gold, valuable and pure,and it is contrasted

with the failure of statesmen, tyrant and dreamer to

270
utilize this currency, for by them the coinage is belittled.
The statesmen debase it, the adulteration of a coin with
an inferior metal suggests the politicians" compromises
undermining and weakening freedom. The tyrant does not
even use a base form of freedom's currency, he will use a
"cheque" which purports to be a promise to pay in the gold
of freedom, but it has already been "dishonoured;" the
double meaning is very clear. The third group are the

wild visionaries who promise so much, a utopia with the

CO

treet* paved with "gold" but their promises do not offer

Lf‘

he true currency of freedom, but a cheap and depreciating

(—f

Libstitute weakened by excessive promises and over-usage.

0

These lines seem to me effe tive and meaningful. Onzcould
search through Lewis's description of the Australian flight
without finding a single example as interesting as this.

The next verse also begins with a similar image.

I see man's heart two-edged, keen both for death and
creation.

As a sculptor rejoices, stabbing and mutilating the
stone

Into shapelier life, and the two joys make one-

So man is wrought in his hour of agony and elation

To efface the flesh to reveal the crying need of
his bone.

(Cvcrtures to Death), p. 41.

Here the image elucidates the fact that achievement in many
fields may necessitate a prior destruction. Just as the
sculptor's stone must be "stabbed" and "mutilated" to form
a more beautiful thing, so sometines man must be destroye
to achieve the fulfillment of his dream vision. The dying

C . ' 1 ‘ O
which W111 'efface the flesn" only allows the "crying need":

to be seen more clearly. At this point the description

271

of the incideit berins.

Guipuzkoa, Eizkaya and Donostia, which were on escort duty

escorting acr ss blockade;
Gehames with her cargo of nickel and refu;.-
From Bayonne tO Bilbao. (Overtures to Deeth),
2;?
Po -e

Unfort'nately they ran into fog, and had to so ahead

"threadin the weird fog maze that coiled their funnels

C)

_ I 1 o .
and bleared day's eye.’ This threw them off course and

L)

suddenly they sighted

“n isle thrown up volcanic and smoking
A slant in metal stride their path. p. 42.

This was the 10,000 ton rebel cruiser Canaries which was
taking to port a captured prize, an Estonian freighter

whicn was carrying a cargo of arms for the Republican

rovernment. There is a sudden moment of silence:

A hush, the first qualms of conflict falls on the
cruiser's burnished
Turrets, the trawler's grimyrhcks. p. 43.

The implied comparison between the naval efficiency of

"burnished" and the casual indifference of '

'grimy" stresses
the difference between these ships as they wait for action,
the'hualms" affecting the nerves and stomachs of both
crews. After this hush there is the first crash of battle.
, The sound of the first salvo skimmed the ocean

and thumped
Cane Machinaco's granite ribs; it rebounded where

A.

272

The salt-Sprayed trees grow tough from wrestling
the wind. (Overtures to
en h), p. 44.
The arid rock of the land along this sea swept coast is
well described in that last line, and clearly also is-
plies the spare toughness of these fisnerxen. At the
sound of the shellfire the refugee women, who had been

"-

inert as base of regs, a mere deck cargo" demonstrated

a total lack of stoicism and wildly stormed the bridge
of the Goldame- and forced the captain to run up the
white flag of surrender. The Canardastoo confidently
steamed over to take possession of the ship with its
valuable cargo of ore and in so doing she neglected to

guard the Estonian freighter. Then, (the rhetoric is

slightly forced) she saw the Nebara attempt to recapture

she) witnessed a bold maneuver, a move of genius
never
In naval history told.

These lines recall the failure of that earlier plane flight,

:ut tie strain is avoided when Day Lewis continues with

a brignt and picturesque metaphor taken from the Spanish

bull-afight.

gs soon flutter like banderillas,
straight

Towards the Estonian speeding, a young bull over

the spacious
And foam distraught arena. (Overtures to Death,) p.45.

Her signal fla'

The Canaries turns on her angrily her "German gunlayers

go about death's business. Business" is an assertion

of the calm professionalism of the German volunteers, but

273

there is something over-rhetorical about the phrase. The sal-

vos shatter the smaller ship.

But still they fought on into the sunless afternoon
Fought on-four guns against the best of the rebel navy.
(Overtures to Don h), p. 45.

 

Again the tone is a little too heavy. The repetition of
"fought on" is too crudely pulling out the stops. At last the
other small ships are put out of the fight and the Eabara is
left alone to challenge the cruiser, and she "cried a fresh
defiance down" although "honour was satisfie long since."

d
How begins the descriptions of the sinrle combat between

the two ships when the gallant Nabara was left in the ring

04

v . . w . . _
alone.' This 18 ee.cribed with the common out successful

d)

e—
vice of using sibillants to suegest sea movement.
istenpered sea sank to the crisis

e d
d the sea tossed and hissed in rebellious
heat. (Overtures to Death), p. 43.

g:

Although the ship is b rning fore and aft the crew decide to

fisht on. This they announce in an unsatisfactory swagger

that sounds like a parody of Drake and his bowls:

We're going to finish this game of pelota.

The heroic principles for which they fight are

Familiar to them from childhood, the shapes of
still dear

rated:

e e
fe

Mc+

i
l

mks

But dearer still to see
Those shores insured for life from the shadow of tyranny.
(Overtures to Death), p. 51.

 

Nothing could be more prOper than these sentiments but somehow
here, the awkward rhythm and that crude rhyme of "see" and
'tyranny" makes even such ideals seem slightly unnatural. The
grip here has sadly relaxed. But if the poet fails, the actual
bravery is maintained. They fought on "while the Nabara be-

neath their feet was turned to a heap of smouldering scrap-

274
iron." ‘Uhen they are finelly forced to ebandon ship

they take to the boat. They ere pursued by the cruiser's
launch end in spite of the ettempt to hold it off with
flung grenades they are overpowered while 'Nebere senk
by the stern in the hushed Centabrien See." In spite

of all the heroism the buiiy hes echieved his inevi-
teble victory.

It is et this point that Dey Lewis begins his
summing up, tying his ending to the enelysis with which
he began this poem. Firstly he makes clear thet they
had not fought wdth eny expectation of e David end
Goliath ending:

They bore no charmed life. They went
into bettle forseeing
Probable loss end they lost.
(Overtures to Death), p.52.
If they ned this realistic appraisal of the outcome why
then did they fight? Unlike the diplomats and politi-
cians they Judged acts by their integrity rather then
their expediency for,
They loved its familiar ways so well
that they preferred
In the rudeness of their heart to die
rether then surrender.
(Overtures to Death), p.52.
One notes the irony of "rudeness". To die was not e
very clever thing to do. Any retionel men who eelcu-

leted the odds would have pointed out the need for

giving up, but 'rude' meens simplicity end strength.

275

This integrity made them.make their choice more from
honesty than from wiser and more selfish calculations.
This innocent honesty brings Day Lewis to the inevi-
table comparison and condemnation of the politicians
at a dozen shameful conferences, and he cuts through
the screen of platitudes and evasions that marked the
policies of this era.

Freedom was more than a word, more than

the base coinage

Of Politicians who, hiding behind the

skirts of peace

They had all defiled, gave up that country

to rack and carnage.

For whmm, indelibly stamped with history's

contempt

Remain but to haunt the blackened shell of

their policies.

(Overtures), p.52.

"Hiding behind the skirts" reminds one of the shy child
sheltering behind its mother but in this case the '
wwman, peace, has been defiled by their policies and
one recalls the Journalist phrase, "the rape of Austria."
Combined, one has the unlovely picture of the politi-
cians using the assaulted to protect themselves. This
is the clearest possible summary of the British policy
of throwing other small countries to the German lion
to gain their own safety by a brief appeasement of its
appetite. I'Indelib].y stamped with history's contempt."
What better final Judgment can be laid upon the appeas-

ers of the 30s who disgraced every country with failure

276

and hypocrisy. Not even the recent spate of formal
histories which have attempted to evaluate these
years dispassionately, has been able to apply any
whitewash to these reputations, nor reduce the fer-
vent condemnation of the times. Their only monu-
ment is the "blackened shell" and this clearly refers
to the whole destruction caused by the war's devas-
tation of EurOpe. But "for these I have told you of,
freedom was flesh and blood," and so it was for the
poets who cried Cassandra-like in the interdwar years.

Spain supplied no solution, it only marked a
further failure for the democracies and added to the
sense of guilt that was felt by so many liberal intel-
lectuals.11 In the face of Franco's obvious success
and the debacle at Munich, Day Lewis published a new
book of poems prophetically entitled Overtures to
‘angh. The dual:meaning of "overtures" makes a pes-
simistic assertion and an accusation. In this volume
the imagery becomes more engaged, deliberately bor-

rowed from.contemporary fears. In describing fihe

 

1lIt was at this time that Day Lewis' five year meme
bership in the Communist Party came to an end with
the abruptness of a revelation. He recalls how he was
speaking at a Party rally at Queens Hall in 1938. Sud-
denly his inner voice spoke to him.saying, "It won't
do. It Just won't do." At this simple whisper Day
Lewis repudiated his years of Party service.

(The Buried Da , p.223),

 

277

color of the sky he sees it as,

Gray as the skin
Of long-imprisoned men
The sky, and holds a poisoned
thought within.
(Overtures to Death), p.1h.

 

Even in such a scene the memory is drawn to the
thought of those who remained interned in.Eur0pe.
And when he describes the spring again with charac-
teristic flair and color the images are of war.

Let the masked bafieries of spring
flash out
Prom.ridge and copse and flowers like
shrapnel burst
Along the lanes and all her landmines
, sprout.
(Time to Dancel, p.50.

 

In spite of the apparent excess of this idea I do not
find that it appears as contrived as some of his
earlier ”pylon" imagery. Here the repetition rather
seems to make a constant assertion of the reality of
this time. Everything had to be seen 1h terms of the
overwhelming fact of war. No thought and no poem
could ignore its proximity. The expectation of war
and the fear of being coerced into a treachery to his
deepest beliefs were constantly in the poet's mind,
and on every hand he saw the threats to his ideals and
the demand that he compromise. With an echo of the
old lilting songs, now the more effective for sounding

almost nostalgic, he writes:

278

They came to us with charity

They came to us with whips,

They came with chains behind their backs

And freedom on their lips.

(Overtures to Death), p.35.

Somethmes for a moment he can escape the imminence of
disaster, and he returns to the countryside of the
England that he loved. Now, however, he sees it in a:
all its beauty and finely recreates the scene in his
verse: but in the circumstances this loveliness can
no longer be a reality, to him it seems the greatest
of all illusions.

But look the old illusion still returns

Walking a field path where the succory burns

Like summer's eye, blue lustre drops of noon

And the heart follows it and freshly yearns.

(Short Is The Time), p.6h.

Nothing can kill this hope or the way the heart "freshly
yearns." Even the acceptance of his conscious knowledge
that this too is "illusion" cannot change the hope in
the heart.

If he yearned to accept this illusion, the reality
was very well understood. The destruction of war was
always near. Day Lewis describes the threat of the
power of Bombers (then only imagined).

Black as vermin, crawling in echelon

Beneath the cloud floor, the bombers come

The heavy angels carrying harm in

Their wombs that ache to be rid of death.
(Overtures to Death), p.15.

The idea of the bombers as vermin, developed through

279

the words "crawling" and "floor", dangerous but wor-
thy only of extermination is important because it is
the deepest despised vermin which will do the exter-
mination. These sky-born.monsters are ironically
called ”angels" but ones defiled by a violent preg-
nancy. This idea is made more powerful By the emo-
tional "ache” as if these inanimate things long to
destroy. It is true that the metaphor of the bombers'
womb seemed to become hackneyed almost as soon as it
was invented, but here the obviousness of the idea at
least paves the way for the develOpment of the image
in a characteristic and successful fashion. The bomb
in the womb is linked to the idea of the child yet to
be born, and the continuation of the seed image that
also ironically compares the dangerous fertility of
the growth.

This is the seed that grows for ruin,

The iron embryo conceived in fear.

Soon or late its need must be answered

In fear delivered in sshreechi fire.

(Ozertures to Death , p.15.

The "iron.embryo conceived in fear" will bring to
birth the destructive force that will destroy the
other loved human child embryo.

Choose between your child and this fatal

embryo

Shall your guilt bear arms and the children

you want

Be condemned to die by the powers you paid for

And haunt the houses you never built?
(Overtures to Death), p.15.

280

Here is the demand in that imperative "choose",
that people face "the powers you paid for." Far more
is implied here than the mere purchase of arms for
war. People have bought with their apathy the whole
ethos of appeasement which became a direct cause of
the war. "Child" and "embryo" stress the ironic choice
that is offered. They can choose the next generation
or this war. Just as the verb "paid for" serves at
both the actual cash and the symbolic level, so those
"houses you never built" have a double force. They
imply the waste of national resources on armaments
rather than the needed housing proJects, but they amm-
bolize more than this. Those houses represent secur-
ity, order, solidarity, lone recalls Spender's use
of this idea in his poem which includes the line, "It
is too late now to stay in those houses your fathers
built." The warning is very clear, but as such lines
continued to meet only indifference, Day Lewis' tone
became increasingly angry and scathing. Watching the
blank, bemused, peanut-gobbling audience at a cinema
newsreel he writes:

f Bathed in this common source you gape
incurious
At what your active hours have willed.
Sleep-walking on that silver wall the
furious

Sick shapes and pregnant fancies of your
world. (Overtures to Death), p.17,

 

281

The soporific warmth of "bathed" and the blank dull-
ness implied in "gape” set the scene. The rhyme be-
tween "incurious" and "furious" significantly stresses
the contrast here, because if the audience is indif-
ferent, the angry political truths their apathy is
permitting are violent. But the essential line is
surely the second. It drives home again the insis-
tence on personal responsibility. The newsreel tri-
vialities of "the society wedding...and old crock's
race and a politician in fishing waders" are only
emanations from the acceptance of the inherent values
of the age. A society which accepts these trivial
phantasies on the "silver wall" is already acquiescing
in its own destruction. Their "pregnant fancies” are
nightmares which will cause them to awake to a worse
reality and bring to birth only their own destruction.
That "pregnant" recalls again the image of the bomber's
womb. The response to such a warning newsreel is only
the cheerful observation of "Oh look at all the aero-
planes," and Day Lewis, with a mixture of scorn and
wry compassion can only observe:

But what are they to trouble?

These silver shadows to trouble

your womb-deep sleep.
(Overtures to Death),p.l7.

 

It is in the last two stanzas of this poem that the

poet directly asserts the obvious dangers of these

282

"silver shadows."

See the big guns rising, groping erected
To plant death in your world's soft womb.
(Overtures to Death), p.17.

 

The obvious phallic symbol of the guns is defeloped
by the metaphor of the womb and the repetition of
"womb" with so many ramifications echos like a loit-
motiv through these verses.

Are these exotics? They will grow nearer

home:

Grow nearer home and out of the dream house
stumbling

One night into the strangling air, and the
flung

Legs of children and the thunder of stone
. Niagaras tumbling
You'll know you slept too long.

(Overtures to Death), p.17;

 

The word "exotics" chides the British insular assump-
tion that these preparations for war do not concern
them. No longer can they isolate themselves either
politically, or in the false security of their "womb-
deep sleep.". "Dream house" used ironically, recalls
the intemminable rows of Jerry-built boxes with their
patches of garden, that disfigured the new arterial
roads. Now the idea of sleeping takes on an extra
force for the whold idea of those dreams of the secur-
ity of the little private house that obsessed these
years are part of an unreality, or rather a somnolent
escape from reality. They will be awoken from this

slumber by the "thunder of stone Niagaras." The

283

evidence of war will no longer be "silver shadows"

but a reality in which that "fatal embryo" destroys
the limbs of their children. This awakening will
present a reality that is more horrifying than the
worst of those fearsome "pregnant fancies." The last
line, although.minatory, is primarily pessimistic.
Obviously the poet feels that the awakening will never
be achieved by his warnings, only by the "stone Nia—
garas."

Day Lewis' pessimism was Justified. He found
himself, in the last words of this volume, in a dis-
maying world "when madmen play the piper and knaves
call the tune." In September, 1939, shortly after
the final defeat of the Spanish Republic the greater
European.war began.

During the period of the war Day Lewis published
two fairly short new volumes of poetry; Word Over All
(l9h3) and Poems l9h3-g1_(l9h9). The former contains
a few poems about the war itself and a large number
of rather weak verses which ignore it altogether. The
latter volume seems to have regret as its chief, if
unconscious, theme. Here in poem after poem, on a
variety of different subJects Day Lewis returns to ex-
amine his feelings of failure. Like the other poets

he saw in European international politics and war, the

284

destruction of all the ideals he had championed. He
writes in tones both guilty and despairing. One searches
in vain for any of the sustained confidence and maturity
that has marked some of the better poems I have consi-
dereflin this essay.

A typical example of his war poetry from.Word Over
5;; can be found in the following lines:

I watch the searchlights set the low cloud

smoking

Like acid on a metal. I start

At sirens, sweat to feel a whole town wince

And thrum, a terrified heart

Under the bomb strokes.

(Short Is The Time), p.66.

The rhythm here is awkwardly broken to my ear, far more
than can be Justified by a conscious attempt to suggest-
the sharp stress of the events, and that scientific
comparison of the acid on metal seems Just a little
calculated. It recalls the determined choice of pylon
imagery rather that the concentrated emphasis on.mean-
ing that the poet has achieved elsewhere.

At other times there is only posturing. Reveal-
ingly he again returns to the Auden note. He borrows
Auden's well-worn air-man image and applies it, this
time without symbolic overtones, to the R.A.F. pilots.
He describes their battles in the following shallow

and above all second-hand lines:

285

Speak for the air, your element, you

hunters

Who range across the ribbed and shifting sky

Speak for whatever gives you mastery-

Wings that bear out your purpose, quick

responsive

Fingers, a fi hting heart, a kestrel's eye.
Short Is The Time), p.78.

 

One can scarcely withhold a sigh when that ubiquitous
bird, the kestrel, flies by again.

It has been suggested that the geographical mag-
nitude of the 1939 war may have prevented writers from
approaching it as a subJeBt, but this seems hardly
probable. After all, one is net asking for another
‘war and Peace and there were several events which
might have called to the poet's imagination in the way
that battles of the Spanish war had done. Stalingrad,
for example, was a battle incomparably more signifi-
cant than the defense of Teruel or Huesca, yet it was
yhymned only in the pompous rhymes which are the news-
papers' concession to poetry. It seemed that the
horrors of this war bOggled the imagination, Just as
the very capacity for compassion is dried up by the
excessive appeals made upon it by the documentary
films of the atrocities. After a time one's own re-
action becomes almost as paralyzed as the feelings of
the perpetrator. The imagination cannot meet the

enormity of the event. If the elimination of 6,000,000

286

Jews was out of the reach of poetry certain inci-
dents supplied that moment of comprehension which
allowed the often inadequate feelings of compassion
and anger to explode. One such event was the dos-
truction of the Czechoslovakian village of Lidice.
The German governor, Heidrich, had been assas-
sinated there and in retaliation the Germans, with
typical thoroughness, razed the whole village and
murdered or deported the entire population. Lidice
horrified the world. Gerald Kersh, the English
novelist, whose reputation grew unfortunately in-
flated during the war years produced a tender and
burning novel on this event. Here was a subject
that also awoke the pen of Day Lewis, but his poem
is the clearest prodf that anger and indignation
are rarely the best motivation for poetry, however
righteous these emotions might be. Too often such
feelings only produce the hollow rhetoric and the
empty declamation of the following stanza.
Cry to us, murdered village, while your
grave
Aches raw on history, make us understand
What freedom asks of us. Strengthen our
hand
Against the arrogant dogmas that deprave
And have no proof but death at their command.
(Short is the Time), p.79.
The failure here is obvious. It shows in the pon-

derous tone that is supposed to be solemn and is

287

only pompous. The poem reads like a bad prayer. The
heavy rhyme suggests the hymn book at its most unc-
tuous, rather than the verse of a major poet. The
earnestness becomes an empty clang of facile emotions
like the words of a cheap orator. The appeal to our
sympathy and compassion is lost as we contemplate only
the emptiness of the tone. ‘When one seeks for a com-
parison with this phony intensity one comes to a most
significant similarity. This poem reads exactly like
the tone and style of some of the many awful poems that
were written for Spain. There is the same cheap rhe-
toric; the same assumption that the theme is in itself
sufficient to create poetry; and the same intense per-
sonal feelings masked by a shallow and empty urgency.
Crude emotionalism is masquerading as poetry. The im-
portant thing of course, is not that such a common thing
should happen, but that it should occur in Day Lewis'
verse at such a moment. Here is a poet whose verse
matured and refined over Spain, now producing the same
emotional lines that he would have condemned ad in-
adequate or insincere during the Spanish struggle.

Here to me is evidence of the relaxing grasp, the fail-
ure of the touch that had produced the powerful urgency
of The Volunteer.

Day Lewis' capacity to write poetry was not lost

288

when an incident could stimulate the emotion of per-
sonal involvement. Two war poems in particular I find
effective; both are elegies to dead soldiers, the one
simple and lyric, the other more definitely leads to
explanation and blame. They are called Reconciliation
and The Dead. The first lines of the former have a
gentle tone, very reminiscent; of Wilfred Owen's mas-
terly lyric Asleep.

All day beside the shattered tank he'd lain

Like a limp creature hacked out of its shell,

Now shrivelling on the desert's grid

Now floating above a sharp set ridge of pain.

Then came a roar, like water in his ear.

The mortal dust was laid. He seemed to be

dying
In a cool coffin of stone walls,
While memory slid towards a plunging weir.
(Short Is The Time), p.83.

The comparison of the soldier outside the protection
of his tank with a snail dying after its shell is
destroyed is fanciful but not eccentric. The tone is
so sure that our response is exactly that mixture of
horror and compassion that the poet must have wished
to convey. The developed metaphor of the water and
the desert so typical of Day Lewns at his most effec-
tive. It seems both calculated and instinctive at the
same time. The limp creature shrivelling in the des-
ert becoming dust, stands alongside the idea of the

healing refreshment of water in the words "floating,"

289

"roar like water." One recalls the significant con-
trast between the arid desert plateau and England's
streams in The Volunteer. Death becomes for this sol-
dier the "laying of the dust." That mixture of the
homely spraying of water, and the idea of burial in
being laid to rest mesh exactly, broadening our emo-
tions to include the solemnity of this deqth, with a
warm.understanding of the still important daily life
outside this heroism. The poet contemplates this
scene with that same balance of passionate commit-
ment and scrupulous detachment that Owen achieved at
his greatest.
The Time that was, the time that might
have been
Find in this shell of stone a chance to
Before they part eterna§l;f
(Short Is The Time), p.83.
In The Dead, the description seems a little less
natural. The bodies,
They lie in the Sunday street
Like effigies thrown down after a fete.
(Short Is The Time), p.82.
He develOps this idea of waste in such words as "fag-
ends', ”litter" and ”stale confetti.” The double
meaning of the adJective in the line, "The bare-faced
houses frankly yawning revulsion," is an effective

irony, but somehow the lines do not achieve a re-

sponse like that created by the powerful lines of

290

Reconciliation. The detachment that can find these
bodies as litter is not making possible a more general
emotion by escaping from sentimentality; it is rather

a means of reJecting all emotion, to play with the arid
toughness that conceals nothing but its own purpose-
lessness. But in this poem the scene is not the signi-
ficant thing, the important verse is the second in
which Day Lewis tries to explain the reason for these
pointless deaths which have left men like "effigies”

in the street.

We cannot blame the great
Alone--the mad the calculating or effete
Rulers. Whatever grotesque scuffle and
piercing
Indignant orgasm of pain took them,
' All that enforced activity of death
Did answer and compensate
Some voluntary inaction, soft option,
dream retreat.
For each man died for the sins of the
whole world;
For the ant's self-abdication, the fat
stock's patience
Are sweet goodbye to human nations.
(Short Is The Time), p.82.

 

That "sweet goodbye" sounds like the title of a cheap
crime story, but if one ignores this let-down, one
finds the old theme earnestly and powerfully restated.
The blame for this war and this particular shabby death,
cannot be transferred entirely onto the heads of the
rulers however "mad" or criminally "calculating" they

may have been. This is therresult again of ”what your

291

active hours have willed." Whether their deaths were
the ludicrous comedy of a "grotesque scuffle" or
whether the violence of the pain gave it the martyred
significance of agony, both represent the payment for
the "dream.retreat" that "womb-deep sleep" in which
these events were allowed to develop. "Voluntary in-
action, soft option," all the failures of will and
nerve of this generation have resulted in the "fete"
whether it is "Purification or All Fool's Day." The
cause is the failure to act like a human being, to
understand and to Judge. To play the part of an ani-
mal is the abdication of human duty. This may be the
attitude of the ant which remains busy and energetic
without bothering itself wdth the purpose of its in-
dustry. It may be the placid indifference of the
cow (or is there a neat double meaning in the term
stock?). The cow seems totally satisfied with daily
feeding and a routine of total inactivity. These
extremes of industry and indolence are equally I'sweet
goodbye to human nations." The Jaunty slang may be
questioned; the statement is a truth that Day Lewis
realized needed constant reiteration.

Day Lewis did however produce one very famous
war poem.at this time. Ironically and understandably

it did not concern the war directly. It was an ans-

292

wer to the constant question, "Where are the War
Poets?" Not that any honest poetry was really sought.
The poetry of a Rosenberg or an Owen would have been
nothing but an embarrassment.‘ A poet was required who
would rouse the flagging enthusiasm of those who
found it less than satisfactory that politicians had
taken only twenty years to eliminate the concept of
the "war to end wars", and create another conflict.
Day Lewis' answer to their demand was incisive and
indicting.

They who in folly or mere greed

Enslaved religion, markets, laws,

Borrow your language now and bid

Us to speak up in freedom's cause.

It is the logic of our time

No subJect for immortal verse,

That we who loved by honest dremms

Defend the bad against the worse.

(Short Is The Time), p.76.

In this poem the denunciation is angry but rigidly
controlled. It is harshly scathing, but the bitter—
ness does not destroy the tight strength of the rhythms.
The language is so direct that it scarcely needs come
ment or explanation. The meaning appeals with simple
force to anyone who knows something of the history of
the 19308. It asserts that religion, the economic
systmm and the very laws of Justice have been subor-

dinated to the expediency of the state. Whether this
destruction of liberties was caused by the "folly" of

293

the politicians, or the "mere greed“ of the industri-
alists is largely irrelevant in view of the present
conflict that resulted. Such academic debate can be
left to the historians. In answer to the appeal that
they speak up for "freedom's cause," the poets can
only point to the "logic" (the word is wryly ironic)
of their thes which has brought them to facing the
madness of this war. The poets were committed to this
war. They would fight, there was no alternative. The
poets would"defend the bad" knowing how.much worse was
the evil which they fought. But this is hardly the
kind of knowledge which creates idealism and senti-
mentality. The war becomes a dirty necessary Job,
about as romantic as clearing away garbage. The mo-
tives are clearly understood. "It's for dear life we
shall be fighting."

It's for dear life alone we shall be fighting,

The poet's living space, the love of men,

And poets must speak for the common suffering

“While history in sheets of fire is erzgng.

Dedicatory stanzas for a trans-
lation of the Georgics Horizon,II,
(Sept. l9h0) p.90-

The resentment that they would feel against being in-
volved in such a duty is aggravated when the very peo-
ple who repudiated their warnings, new demand some

laureate, martial verse glorifying the miserable re-

sults of their own folly. Appeals for self-sacrifice

294

and national service ring rather ironically when one
remembers the indifference of so many to that same
appeal from the poets when the issues were clear, and
the motives moral. The poets had wanted to live by
"Honest dreams", now they were forced into a dishonest
reality. In refusing to see this war in black and
white terms as a crusade of angel against defil they
avoided being stampeded into sentimentality and false
heroics. They used their "open eyes" and fought a-
gainst the worse as every rational man must. When
this struggle was complete the bad would in turn be
challenged and its guilt denounced, so that a new,
finer England could be created where another such de-
fence would not be needed. Suddenly Lewis' view be-
gins to change to a more despondent outlook. He sees
that this war, like the previous one, will cause only
the same hypocrisy, the same failure. He sees only a
repetition of the absurd time;

When madmen play the piper

And knaves call the tune.

(Overtures to Death), p.62.

He realizes that there is no evidence that the elu-
sive "better world" is any nearer. Much suggests
that the same misery will occur. In, "Will it be so
again?” he asks a series of questions but the tone

suggests that, for all the question form, he feels

295

pessimistic enough to regard the questions as posi-
tive statements.

Will it be so again
That the brave, the gifted are lost from view,
And empty, scheming men
Are left in peace their lunatic age to renew?
Will it be so again?

(Short Is The Time), p. 8h.

and again:
Must it be always so

That the best are chosen to fall and sleep?
(Short Is The Time), p.8h.

 

The most successful verse is the third, in which in
three lines he is able to describe and condemn the whole
inter-war years.

Will it be so again--

The Jungle code and the hypocrite gesture?

A poppy wreath for the slain

And a cut throat world for the living? that

stale imposture
Played on us once again?
(Short Is The Time), p. 8h.

These highly concentrated lines are too clear to need
much elucidation. The "Jungle code" links with the
"Cut throat," which includes both a single type of vio-
lence and the whold business ethos of unrestrained
competition and its effect. The "gesture" Joins with
"imposture," the unctuous praise of the dead while the
living are condemned to the kind of life that Day Lewis
had described so fiercely in his poems of a decade be-
fore. It seems only too likely that exactly the same

trick is going to be "played on us once again." This

296

knowledge removed the chief Justification from the
vigorous appeals from the hierachy. The intellectu-
als were at least too shrewd to have to be bitten
twice by the same dog.

The next volume of Day Lewis's verse was pub-
lished in l9h8, and was called simply £2323, The
title alone might suggest the lack of any overall
theme. The subJects are varied and the style also
shows very considerable diversity. If one seeks to
generalize about the themes of these poems one finds
three main subJects. There are poems of introspection
such as Juvenalia, The Chrysantheumum Show and N21,
Year's Eve... There is some love poetry such as the
Marriage of Two and Heart and Mind. There are a few
poems discussing the poetry of such writers as Bronte,
Hardy and Blunden. Besides these there are a few
songs and some translations.

The most obvious fact to be noticed here is the
new detachment from events. Only In The Shelter, by
its location though little else, can be said to have
any connection with external political or international
events which had been the major stimulus to Day Lewis'
earlier writing. He appears to be retreating from his
previous position into a more academically conventional
poetic world. It is indicative too, that the poems

which comment on other writers concern those whose se-

297

lection implies a taste that is growing conservative
and orthodox.

The themes in these poems appear widely diverse,
but a single idea constantly recurs in them. It is the
feeling of regret and a sense of failure. This theme
is so pervasive that it might almost be unconscious.
The guilt nags away like an exposed nerve. Again and
again this feeling occurs fleetingly in poems which
are concerned with an entirely different theme. Only
in one, significantly entitled A Failure is the whole
poem given over to an expression of this mood. Here
the idea is conveyed in a metaphor of farming which is
developed throughout the entire poem. With this meta-
phor he examines the perplexing failure of an age.

The soil was deep and the field well sited,
The seed was sound.

Average luck with the weather, one thought,
And the crOp would abound.

(Poems kg), pg.33.

In spite of the expectation there is the discovery that
the promise is belied and crop seems inexplicably
blighted.

The fruit of a year's work, a lifetime's lore,
Had ceased to grow.

(Poems E2), p033e

Neither individual "work" nor the inheritance of I'lore"
has been enough to offset the failure. The efforts of

those who preached a liberal idealism had not achieved

298

any lasting result or "crop." Day Lewis goes on to
consider the reason for the failure.
Some galloping blight
From earth's metabolism must have sprung
To ruin all;
Or perhaps his own high hopes had made
The wizened look tall.

(Poems 1943-47).(London, 19h8)
p031).

He seems to offer two explanations. Firstly, he sug-
gests that there was some deficiency inherent in the
"earth." It is not clear whether he is suggesting
something as vague as the idea that the times were a-
gainst them, or the more pessimistic view that there
is an instinctive inborn evil in man which prevents
the achievement of any utopia. Day Lewis then toys
with the depressing thought that perhaps even the evi-
dence of the first growth was an illusion. Perhaps
even the early hopeful sheets were themselves stunted
and wizened. His own idealistic Optimism.may have
seen an awaking spring in an empty fallow field. If
this were so, clearly the whole validity of the work
of these contemporary writers is also to be under-
stood as only an illusion, a trick of the vision which
was straining to see "high hopes" in the conditions
found when this decade began. This prospect would be
so shattering that Day Lewis does not even allow him-
self to consider it further. Bravely and a little too

hastily, he dismisses the whole line of argument as

299

irrelevent. Clearly the truth is rather that he fears
carrying it to its unpleasantly convincing conclusions.
But it's useless to argue the why and the
wherefore.
When a crop is so thin,

There's nothing to do but to set the teeth
And plough it in.

Poems kg), p.3h.

The tone has the false heartiness of one who is con-
cealing the intensity of his despair. With a deter-
mination based only on the degree of his disillusion
he geJects all attempts to patch and improve and de-
cides to destroy the whole lot, and hope for some more
promising crop in the future. The sudden decision to
"plough it in" clearly represents a response to all
the hopes and dreams of a decade which Day Lewis can
only see now as a time of total failure.

A Failure is the only poem in this volume that
directly breaches the issue of the results achieved
during the thirties, and it is obviously profoundly
pessimistic. Day Lewis refuses to begin to investigate
the causes for this, his short "it's useless to argue"
sweeps the whole issue under the carpet and precludes
either evaluation or post-mortem. Having read his
verse with some admiration I cannot agree he need feel
so sweepingly disgusted. The crop, far from being"so

thin" includes, on the literary side, some impressive

300

poetry. In political terms, his actions had the

effect of gradually stiffening the will to face and
fight those powers against whom the poets had given
such vehement warnings. It is pointless, however,

for me to evaluate the degree of his success; what is
obvious is Day Lewis' own intense sense of personal
failure, a feeling which I have already indicated in
much of the later poetry of Stephen Spender. This
attitude vitiated all the post-war poetry of Day Lewis.
It undermined the basis of his previous work without
substituting any principle on which he could construct
further poetry. The result of this failure of faith
can best be seen in his next long poem An Italian Visit
which I shall discuss later. First I wish to focus on
the varied expressions of disappointment and guilt
which are to be found throughout this post-war volume
of his poetry to indicate the pervasiveness of this
mood.

The primary theme amongst the general tone of
disillusion is the failure of his poetry. It is not
the politics which cause the despair, not the power
and wickedness of the dictatorships, but the empti-
ness he now detects in the heart of all his past verse.

All I have felt and sung
Seems now but the moon's fitful

Sleep on a clouded bay.
(Short Is The Time), p.70.

301

The scene of the sea-coast and the moon is convention-
ally poetio. So much so that one almost wonders if
his rejection is directed not only at the failure of
the achievement in attempting to communicate, but also
an admission that what seemed most determinedly revo-
lutionary, most anti-romantic, is nothing more than a
rehash of the old second-hand fragments.

Suddenly with a sense of shame he seems to see
his failure exposed to every eye. Again the sea-coast
scene is used. It is effective in suggesting the use-
less flotsam from a past which is now a distasteful
memory. The description communicates the mood but
there is still no evidence that allows us to begin to
understand why he feels this revulsion. This poem is
called All Gone. '

The sea drained off, my poverty's uncovered

Sand, sand, a rusted anchor, broken glass,

The listless sediment of sparkling days.
One might speculate about the personal symbolism of
that anchor and smashed glass, but the general meaning
is entirely clear here. The poet seems to find his
writing only a sedLment. He does not choose to step
writing, but he nags himself into feeling a sense of
futility. He is aware of the limitations his verse
has and claims that now he can only be an observer.
He chooses to "record" in "patience.” Here is an un-

expected attempt at detachment after the fine passion

302

of his earlier verse. It makes one think of the teme
porary, affected pose of Christopher Isherwood in I am
a Camera.12
= Today I can but record
In truth and patience
This high delirium of nations
And hold to it the reflecting fragile word.
(Short Is The Time), p.79,
What is the point of merely reflecting this "high delir-
ium"? How can this attitude be defended by such a poet
in the middle of a violent war? The calmness becomes
not restraint but abdication. The flatness and calm of
these lines indicate the defeatism in the very style,
as well as in the thought of these lines.
Later in some chatty lines he examines the group
of poets with whom his name was associated:
We who "flowered" in the thirties
Were an odd lot, sceptical, yet susceptible
Dour though enthusiastic, horizon addicts

And future fans, terribly apt to ask what
Our all-very-fine sensations were in aid of.

Pegasus (London, 1957) p.2h.
The tone of these lines is simply amazing. They seem
to constitute not only a denial of the ideals of the
thirties, but an assumption that these attitudes were

so idiosyncratic as to be laughable. How can one ex-

 

12A similar attempt at detachment occurs in the chapter
titled "The Thirties" in The Buried Day. "I do not
want either to bury the Thirties or to praise them -
only to find my way back into the self I was thenag)
p.2

”H

303

plain the ironic commas around "flowered" and the
colloquial Journalese of "odd lot", "fans" and "in
aid of." The utOpian ideals are now described as an
addiction suggesting a vice or being a "fan" with its
association with silly excess for films or sport. It
is a calculated belittlement. I do like the probably
unintentional but very appropriate pun in "horizon"
which reminds one of Cyril Connolly's influential
magazine of the same name. Alone these lines could
be explained as simply a lapse of taste, an example
of wit which is merely silly, but set along with the
other examples I am considering, they become further
evidence of a mood that must, presumably, be taken
seriously. If this is so, Day Lewis is deliberately
attacking all he believeia few years before and he
is using the same argwments which he had so scathingly
and impressively refuted when he had attacked the
sneerers in Where Are The War Poets? This mockery of
what he once believed, can only be interpreted as
another facet in the guilty repudiation he appears to
be undertaking.

Even.more remarkable is the poem The Rebuke, which
actually concludes the earlier collection‘Word Over All.
Here the style is a little less effusively hammy but

it remains inexplicably Jaunty as he considers the

304

poetry written by himself and others of the thirties.
He exclaims with lilting unconcern about "What lies
we told, what lies we told." His accusation appears
to be clear enough, but it cannot be read as an ac-
cusation. The repetition and the tone of this excla-
mation is too Jaunty to permit the condemnation to be
taken quite seriously as a Judgment. It only causes
one rather to condemn the attitude of a man who, at
this stage in his career, can so glibly and irrespon-
sibly throw away the dreams and achievements of a de-
cade without consideration or hesitation. One can
scarcely believe that he means what he says, for if
he did he could not be so unmoved and cheerful. In
a similar way, it might be argued that the poets of
this era were a little too prolific and often the pub-
lication of a collected edition has necessitated con-
siderable pruning, but can one really dismiss this oc-
casional over-fluency with this pair of lines?

The irresponsible poets sang

What came into their head.

(Short Is The Time), p.97,

Can this be a serious comment on the verse of his con-
temporaries? If it is not this, what else is it? Day
Lewis goes beyond a criticism of the writing to an as-
sault on the beliefs and principles of these men. The

ideals which many of these writers so ardently held are

305

belittled with as little consideration as he gives to
the dismissal of their writing:

We little guessed who spoke the word
0f hope and freedom high...
It was a lie, a heart felt lie.

(Short Is The Time), p.97;

 

The apparent paradox obtained by combining "Heart-felt"
and "lie" is suggestive of the intensity of his disil-
lusion.

It is never explained what has caused this sweep-
ing loss of faith, but the theme is recorded in lines
throughout this poem:

Now the years advance ...

We doubt the flame that once we knew

Heroic words sound all untrue.

(Short Is The Time), pg.97.

The last lines of the poem.have an unequalled13 bit-
terness. The "damn" seems not a colloquial affects-
tion, but the breaking point of an intolerable exas-
peration.

Who cares a damn for the truth that's grown

Exhausted haggling for its own

And speaks without desire?
(Short Is The Time), p.98.

 

13 This emotion is rather peculiarly anticipated in 1938
when in a stanza of Regency Houses Day Lewis exposes
the first stanza of disappointment.

We who in younger days,

Hoping too much, tried on

The habit of perfection,

Have learnt how it betrays

Our shrinking flesh. (Overtures to Degthg,
p.l .

306

The answer to this rhetorical question ought to be Day
Lewis and all the intellectuals like him who had fought
for truth in those long depressing years. Perhaps these
lines can be interpreted a little more hopefully, be-
cause truth, as such, is not rejected, only condemned
in that it now ”speaks without desire." This is ex-
plained as the result of the long years of "haggling"
that they have had to do for it. If one interprets
it this way, however, it tends to contradict the whole
tone of this poem which is defeated and despairing.

The cause of this change of attitude that under-
mined the whole power and spirit of Day Lewis' verse
can hardly be known. One can speculate on its origin
from the clues in some lines in his later war-time
poems. Sometimes his vision of the war is too horri-
fying and appalling to allow further social optimism.
The following two lines could be a text for George
Orwell's nightmare vision of society:

Lying awake one night he saw
Eternity stretched like a howl of pain.
(Overtures to Death), p.60.

The future suddenly ceased to present even the most
distant hope of an utOpia. It seemed only an eternal
proliferation of the agonizing present, and the de-
pressing past. He feels obligated to admit that the
ideals he accepted are too big to be realized, his

hopes are only the folly of self-delusion.

307

Destiny, History, Duty, Fortitude,

Honour, all

The words of the politicians seem

Too big or too small.

(Short Is The Time), p.75.

The capital letters underline the irony, and yet those
ideals do not cease to exist because of their abuse at
the hands of glib politicians. The actions of some
who fought with the International Brigade had restored
a great deal of force and quality to these much mis-
handled words, otherwise what is The Volunteer all
about?

Perhaps he best expresses his feeling of retreat ‘
in the whole seventh section of 0 Dreams, 0 Destination.
Here he acknowledges the limitations that he faces.

But to do this honestly is no disgrace, and is hardly
sufficient to Justify the later despair. The crucial
lines in the argument follow, None of them explain
the later condemnation of the past. They are re-
strained and sensible explanations about how to make

the best of fighting for ”the bad against the worse."

We're glad to gain the limited objective,
Knowing the war we fight in has no end.

Lost the archaic dawn wherein we started,
The appetite for wholeness: now we prize
Half-loaves, half-truths-enough for the half-
‘ hearted
The gleam snatched from corruption satisfies.
(Short Is The Time), p.6h.

Perhaps this is not so much after the idealistic visions

of the previous decade, but it is certainly a reason-

308
able adaptation to the conditions of a war.

Perhaps the changed attitude may partially be
seen as a turning away from events into the longed
for peace of a countryside whose beauty he has often
recorded, whether among the condemned mine pits of
the depression or the high plateau of Spain. During
the war while he was living in the country he was
made an officer in the newly formed Home Guard. Man-
oeuvres among the farms had a playful buccolic air.14
Thoughts of war were quickly dismissed when crops and
harvesting demanded attention. One notices in the
following poem how hastily he turns from the sub-
Jects of war to talk of the firm life around him. This
may be natural enough, but it is another facet of
Lewis' withdrawal. The poem is called Watching Post.

I talk for a while of invaders:

But soon we turn to craps-the autumnal hope

Making of cider, prizes for ewes.

He is aware of the ominous fact that ”a cold wind from

 

14His casual attitude to military training may

be seen from the amusing anecdote he records in

Egg guried Day (p. 101). His Home Guard men were
as up or heir final inspection. He ended his

review with ”On the command, Dismiss, the Company

will turn smartly to the right and move into the

Lion." From the ranks a long-suffering farmer was

heard to remark, "First bloody sensible thing
you've said tonight, Mr. Lewis."

4

309

Europe blows back the words in my teeth." Events
are threatening all the ideals he defended so ar-
dently in.his earlier writing. For the moment he
observes placidly,
I write this verse to record the men who
have watched with me
Spot who is good at darts; Squibby at repartee,
Mark and Cyril, the dead shots; Ralph with a
ploughman's gait...
(Short Is The Time), p.7h,

Many times he appears to acknowledge this changed
attitude in himself. He looks back and finds no con-
tact with the man who wrote the earlier verse. In
Juvenalia he discusses his feelings as he reads his
earlier poems. His response is indicative. He is
completely unable to recapture the spirit in which

they were written:

But gone is the breath of dawn
Clinker the dreamm it fanned.

(Poems g2), p.1u.
Yet some of the lines still move him.powerfully, and
he ceases to condemn.and finds rather that these poems
”keep faith.“ It is he, not they, that change:
Myself repudiates myself of yesterday;
But the words it lived in and cast like

a shell keep faith
With that dead self always.

(Poona 33). mm.

But he apparently wants to cancel the themes of his
poetry, for he finds that there are still

310

So many words to u-sxy

So mich hue and cry

After a whisp of flame.

( Short Is The Tire) P. 14.

 

The desoair continues and in New Year's Eve that
L ’

 

time of inevitable introspection, he looks back
only with disappointment.

We lament not one year only

Gone with its chance and change...

But all our time lost, nrofitless,
misspent. (Short Is The Time) P. 14.

 

The despair stretches beck bevond any single year
and erodes the nest. Even more directly pessmlstic
are the following lines:
What has our fumbling virtue to look back on?
How much has it passed up, mishandled, ruined.
( Short Is The Time) P. 14.
Even the virtue is 8881 as "fumbling"; incompet-
ently mismanagln; the ideals it professes, causing
its own hardships which have results as serious as
those created by vice. A later stanza in this
poem has a plaintive revival of an old theme. Like
a sad echo, the verse recalls the confident high
flying "airmen" who are low revealingly "stranded"
and the energetic image of electricity that was
often used in "pylon" days appears now in a shadow
of its old strength, as a battery fading. Both

these ima

(H

es, existing as deflated remnants of

an older virility, indicate as clearly as the

311

last clause the decline of a Vigorous poetic force.
Tonight as flyers stranded
On a mountain, the battery fading, we tap out
Into a snow-capped void our weakening
Vocations and desires.
(Short Is The Time) P.50.

With the knowledge of this increasing weakness
and the rejection of much of his past work, Day Lewis

began work on the last book which is included in his

Collected Works. It is entitled An ltalian Visit

 

 

and it was first sublished in 1753. It is an ex-
traordinary poem to come from the pen of a mature
and able poet. It consists of long beginning and
end sections which are made up of a rather prosaic:
conversation either between three peOple or nrobably

H

three personas" exemplifying the poet's divergent

views. These rar's bracket a central section which

consists of a rather dull travelogue and a series
of set pieces. These individual poems describe

Italian works of art in the styles of certain other
poets. I am not qnite sure whether these should be
called pastiche or parody. A few examples should
be sufficient to indicate the general level of the
opening pages. The triviality of the first lines
ought to be a warning of what lies ahead.

Tom: So here we are, we three, bound on a new
experience.

312

Dic:: Three persons in one man, bound for the
Eternal City.

Harry: We're not as young as we were, but Italy's
some years older. 15

Harry usually speaks lines that are exactly
like the worst failures found in Eliot's later
plays:

I have omitted to pack my Kierkraard, i"iarx and
Groddeck
My angst I can only hope they will confiscate at
the customs.
(Italian Visit) P. is.
The following lines read like a parody of sectionsof
The Cocktail Party.
Yes travel is travail, a witless

Ordeal of self-abasenent to an irreversible process.
(Italian Visit) P. 16.

 

Tom appears to be the practical one who remains def-
iantly prosaic:
1 1 1 ~ ' ‘
If he means what I thine ne means, I m not going

to loak out of the windows.
(Italian Visit) P. 16.

 

Finally, the description gets the plane off the
ground, making the process seem as conplex and daring
as launching an astronaut. Then the plane's flight
is described with something of the old Auden enth-

usiasm though this sky rhetoric has now become rather

 

15 C. Day Lewis, Italian Visit (London, 1953) p. 13.

 

313

old hat.
Bank and turn, bank and turn,
Air-treading bull, my silver Alitalia.
Ban: and turn, while the earth below
Swings. (Italian Visit) P. 29.
Under the circumstances one might be grateful he was
not travelling in such a recalcitraitly unioetic

airline as BOAC. The bull-ring metaphor which made

such a colorful flourish in The Nabara, is in this

 

poem, strained across half a page.

They arrive in Rome and his response is given
in the form of a poetic letter. The following piece
of chat begins it and is not untytical of the general
tone:

We have been here three days and Home is really--

I know, I know, it would take three life-times to
Cover the glorious jun: heap.

After some pages of sight-seeing n h concludes

(D

‘l‘T

U)
(D

with a firm dismissal and the promise of further
description:
So much for Rome
Tomorrow we shall take the bus to Flnrence.
(Italian Visit) P. 43.
In Florence he begins his series of parodies.

I supnose they are in themselves fairly competently
done, but saying this does not sufficiently to me
ewplain their presence and purpose in this poem.

The lines modelled on Yeats, for example, may rep-

resent his more irritated condemnations of Maud

314

Gonne's politics, but they are rather cruder lines
than one would wish to find in Yeat's later verse.
A political woman is an atrocious thing

Come what may she will have her fling
In flesh and blood. (Italian Visit)

hj

U1
—4
.

 

He ets much closer to the style of Dylan Thomas but

0‘}

this is not very difficult to do. Thomas's excess
invites parody and some of his more extreme verse
might well be self-parody, intentional or otherwise.
Still such Lines as these are very recognizable,
which I suppose is the criterion.

I went to school Witl a glee of dolphins

Bowlin; their hoops round the brine-tongued isles.
(Italian Visit) P. 60.

 

It is not surprising thoigh, that Day Lewis is at his
most success ul in his parody of Auden whose style
he uses, rather inappropriately, to de cribe a painting
bir Piero di Cosimo. Since he had spent a large

part of his poetic apprenticeship in fighting off

he too powerful influence of Auden on whom he leaned
in much of his earlier verse, all he had to do was
remove the restraints which taste and a developing
poetic in’ividuality had imposed on such unnatural
and excessive borrowing. The following lines exactly
catch the style of Auden at his most glibly pret-

entious.

315

When gilt-edged hopes are selling short,
Virtuo'o devalued, and the overt
Avenger rises. (Italian Visit) p. 58.

The "Swart" is a typical piece of Auden's recondite
vocabulary.

But what is the point of discussing the efficacy
or failure of these tricks? Hero is a mature work
of a man who had promised to develop an a significant
poet and the result is this trivial and derivative
work. Somewhere along the line of his development
the fire has been allowed to die out. The lyric
beauty of his descriptions and the proud truth of
2;; Volunteer have both been dissipated.

Increasingly Day Lewis has turned to other work
than poetic creation. He has translated poems from
the French. He has lectured in the universities and
given several talks on the BBO'o Third Program. He
has utilized his sensitive and refined intellect
in many worthwhile fields, but the Spark that once
‘burnod in his poetry seems to have been largely
extinguished. In 1957 he published a new volume
of poetry in England, and the reviewers pointed out
the influence of Edward Thomas, Thomas Hardy, and
George Meredith. No doubt this verse has a tranquil
charm, but the change of tone implicit when such

comparisons can be made is very obvious. is Thwaites

I.

4 K o
, w
‘ .
a ' . l e
‘ .

‘ A
‘1
(‘3‘!

.0

~‘k r‘

!

.n-

"1~

316

observe? rather oleintively,

How can one judge a tzentR tn oenturv woet who,
after h:loinj chiev: the no tic revolution of
our time, reset* in 113 prime by writin: work
’ two eminent Victorian noets?16

which is a pastiche 01
The poet "no foufht the liberal bett e of his
time 117-3 surren erev'i both. ioliiioellv and poeticslly.

He shoe re to have retreatei into the Cloisters

 

disnsy still e ist. About one third of this VJlune
is given to four long roeme ab ut Green goie; Pegafius,

Psyche, Btuoii vnw Lhilémon eni Ari1ine. These seem

rather unremarkable until suddenly Beucis is made

to disoeir:
There are mv memories? fho hes taken the memories
I store} 'ins-t these winter nights, to keep me warm?

My past 1: under snow-—seed—beos, bud-grafts,
Flowering blood, globed hours, all shrouded, erased:
There I lie, b1ried alive before my own eyes.

0 o e V . . 7‘ e '
It is ino0331ble not to detect somet1ln3 of ray Lew1s

own feelinjs in such words. Ani in the second section

 

15 A. This. te , Cos: .,
(Tokvo, 1357), P. 97.

317

of the book; the shorter, more personal poems:
this dismayed note of anxious reconsideration is
heard again. Always there is the sane question to
he asked:

Is it a second childhood,

Ho wiser than the first,
That we so rase and thirst

For some unchangeable good?
Shea d not a wise man laugh

At desires that are only orrnf
Of slackenin: flesh and blood?
(Pe"1sus) P. 50.

"The new dreams are no wiser than the first." The
old illusions, the ideals of the orevious decade stay
to haunt him and no insistence on the be1evclent
refit crowised by age c~n settle these ”cariina ghosts.
He fights against the constant renembrance that
"Betrayal is always self-betrayal." Sometimes there

1

is even exasperation at the persistence of one old
heliefs. It shows in the demand for a more coldly
efficient organization. Irritated by a tiresome
debate he has had while serving on an incompetent
committee, he inpatiently discisses its usefulness
with a View tth sh uld never have been s oken by a
man with such an essential attachment to democratic
idealism. Sven although his fiesnonse here may be
transient and trivial, not a dewonstrat on of any

real change of social nrincinle, it is still revealing

of his dif‘erent vision.

318

And I retret another afternoon wasted,

And wearily think there is something to be said

For the met1ods of the dictatorshins--I who shall
waste

Even the last droos of twilisht in self-pity.

(Pesasus) P. 26.

Actually that self-sity is not a very significant
mood in this collection. It does exist but the

nestion

,.Q
,3

1:7 reflects anxiety rather than ritv, and

is developed most fully in a poem called The Long Road.

 

As a noes it is casnal, conversational a1d very

i

remarks

D;
’...
U)
9
Q
o)
'..).
4
(D
H
d
H.
u}
go
r...J
O
.1)
d"
3
C)
' 3
L)
>13
k 1
1)
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0
re

than a toes. The nrosy renetitions easiest that

this experience was n’t quite assimilated sufficiently
to make a "oem, as if these lines were the nental
investiaiations that make the prelude to the writ-

ing of noetry rather than the finished work itself.

There was no orecise noint at which to say

I an on the wrong road. So well he knew

Where he wanted to go, he had walkei in a dream
fiever dressing he could lose his way.

Besides for such travellers it's all but true
That no to a point any road will do

As well as another -- so why not wa k

Straisht on? The thouble is after this point
There e no turning back, not even a fork;

And you never can see that ooint until

After you have passed it. And when you know
For cestiin you are lost, there's nothing to do
But so on walking your road, although

You walk in a nightmare now, not a dream.
(Peeasus) P. 2%

*

It is temntin: and probably approximately right to

equate the road with Communism. Certainly Day Lewis

319

fa ed in that night at Queen's Hall the haunted
realization that "I an on the wrong road. " Yet
it makes for some difficulties. filat can one set
from that extraordinary "any road will do" sug-
gestion? In a similar way it is very true that
Day Lewis, like other intellectuals, did not see
the danger. inherent in Communism; they perferred

to accept their own idealistic interpretations
of its dogna than the cruel evidence of Russian
domestic and international policy. But having
recognized betrayal of ideals, albeit tardily
and reluctantly, they did change direction. If
they did not have the confidence to turn back as
one wouli wish, they at least storoed 30in: along
the same track. Lewis' discovery that he had been
"walkirg in a nightnare not a dress" was a hard
realization to make. Sow, t1ou7h he may regret
the loss of the old illusionary dream he has woken
up. The onlv niqhtmare he walks in now is the one
that inflicts a sense of shame and regret. But
this is not what the poem sets, it rather pretends

1

that he still marches along the old paths.
These questions may be applied in exactly the
sane w.y to the last stanza in which he attempts

to argue what went wrong) sonewhat in the tone of

320

of the earlier ooem, Failure.

You can argue it thus or thus: either the road

Changed gradually under his feet and became

A wrong road, or else it was he who changed

And put the road wrong. He'd hesitate to blame

The traveller for a hig way's going askew;

Yet oossibly he and it became one

At a certain stage like means and ends.

For this lost traveller, all depends

On how real the road is to him--not as a mode

Of advancement or exercise—-rather, as a grain

To timber, intrinsic-real.

He can but pursue

His course and believe that, granting the road

Has right at the start, it will see him through

Their errors and turn into the riiht road again.(Peeasus) P.?8.
Again it is easy to find clear personal interpre-
tations for many lines. It is right that they should
make themselves consider if it was Communism that
chaneed, or their own falsely idealistic hopes, It
is nrooer that they should be aware that not all
the blame can be laid to the Communists. Equally
it is revealing that the debate on tiis point should
center on ends and means. If there was a single
intellectual issue which broke many from the Party
it was the realiZation that the communists would
defend any means if the ends were the expansion
of the Marxism. The belief that means condition
ends was dismissed as a bourgeois qwibble -qainst
Marxist dialectics. The last lines to be app-

liCeble at all would have to refer to the rather

sad old communists who so on without faith or belief

321

because there is nothing else they can accept.

As I sujgested earlier the poets lost faith but
they drifted rather to a political agnosticism than
continued to retain the worn out old social faith.
They had been sufficiently disabused to find Iarxism
intolerable however much thev might regret their
inahility to find an adequate substitute. The
posses ive aiiective "their is also curious since
it has no nossible antecedent anywhere in the poem.
Much remains unanswered andone rather begins to
doubt that Lewis has, or intends, an answer. As I

commented earlier the lines read like a series of

if
u)

zsitant speculations towards a poem, and may rather

~

3)

C

-e a nee ure of his own doubt and confusion in
this time of unbelief.

Last vear Day Lewis published another collect-

17

ion of poems called The sate These are gathered

 

from various places of rublication including the

less than aestheic pages of Punch and The New Yorker.

 

Nearly ialf the book does not consist of poetry
prOper at all. A long monologue for Ewdelaine

smith the suspected murderess was foe oral deliv-

erv on the radio. Another section, ghe Unexploded

 

 

17 C. Day Lewis, The Gate (Lond n, 1353).

322

Bomb was for declination at a nuclear disarmament

H
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‘4
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L.)
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U)
P.
I 1

the nearest azy of these four poets
have come to sol tical commitment recently though

it is not ing but a sin le satire. The Christmas

 

Ros

and a modern version of the le‘uien Lass were

u)

 

written for musical scores. It is not easy to
find any single theme in the brief renainder of
the book. The title T09” itself bezins with one
of the host's most exotic inajes like one of those

Le used earlier. He describes "In the foreground

clots of cream-white flowsrs." The verb is

. '
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earlier style is is the whole

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it is, dead center, ghost-amethyt-hued,
the whole together like a brooch.
‘3) P. 12.

 

The titles make a fa rly inconseouent list:

A View From an Usher hindow, 3.eeodoszrials in

 

 

hvde ParkL Circus Lion, Gettins Jarm--Gctting Cold.

 

 

No obvious theme binds these poems to; then, but
one idea, like a thread, snows repeatedlv in un-
expected nlaces among the weave. This s the same

1

note of introspective doubt that nas be urd

(D

n h

(D
n1

continually in Lewis' post-war ooetrv. It

H.

C‘
. )

found not so much in an entire ooem as in constant

323

hints and asides within poems noninally on another

subject. The beer on Edward Elsar for example,

 

w

contains the old session or England's lovely

landscahe. Day Lewis even reheatr the music-country-

1

side analogy he used earlier when he describes his

exhiflarated delight in a West country scene along
the liver Severn.

1
., ,

Cloud-shadows sweeoin: in aroesgios no the hill-
sides;
Grey muted light which, brooding on stone, tree,
. clover
And cornfield, makes their colours sing most clear--
All moods and themes of light. (The Gate) P. 51.

But even in this roem celebrating the beauty of
the anble-nroducin: Evesham Valley, one can easily

detect undertones. What on the surface oretends to

1

be a picture of an orchard in wnich the trees never
came to fruit, has very clear a sociations with the
iead blossoms of social hone which equally failed
in fruition.

Orchards are in it--the vale of Bveshan blooming:
Rainshine of orchards growing out of the past.
The sadness of remembering orchards that never bore,
Never for us bore fruit: year after year they fruited,
But all, all was premature--
fie were not ripe to father the fell beauty.
And now when I hear "orchards" I think of loss, recall
White tears of blossom streaming away ‘own-wind,
And wish the flow r could have stayed to be one

with the fruit it formed.
(The Gate) P. 500

324

The casual ”Who cares,” the studied disinterest of
”for all I know“ set the new emotional tone and
his daughter Helen's statement, ”You are so calm
you amaze me, father,” echoes something of our own
sentiments after we have read the appeals of his
poetry some twenty years before. But the poet has
withdrawn to a point where the world becomes cir-
cumscribed by his own self. He attempts only the
negative virtue that his acts should notmeke people
suffer. Perhaps he is haunted by the thought of
the tragic futility hie earnest and impassioned
advice brought to those who accepted it and died
fighting for the false dawn promised by the
battlefields of Spain. It may be this guilt, as
well as the sense of failure, that makes him write:
There's this to be said for growing old-cone loses
The itch for wholeness, the need to Justify
32;;2 maimed condition. I have lived all these

A leper beneath the skin, scrupulous always
To keep away from where I could spread infection.

(The Gatg). p. 33.
Other men found some satisfaction in escape from

, the ”itch for wholeness“, discovering the limited
success of partial achievement after the determina-
tion to reform the world by wholesale revolu-

tion. But no other poet reached the point of

325

this self-horror, such total witharawal. Regret
ani concern; that much was nroper and necessary,
but the sense of personal responsibility for such
nolitical cisaster was never seen as such a single,
individual burjen by others.

One *oem in this collection reflects swnethina
Q

of the concerns of Tne Long Road. It it called

 

Travelling Light. It is a moiernized comment noon

 

the motives of Jason's classical voyage but several
moments seen to contain just that personal relevance
which I have been indicating earlier. He begins,
"Jaturally we travelled light" and if one begins

to mak a tentative association of these travellers
with the radical roets of Englani in the thirties

a number of lines seen revealing. Consider the

following lines as a content on their necessity

l

to craft

_ 'ooial criticism onto a naturally lvric

U

.

style. "Khat our need nafl forced on us grew

second nature. "So when we resolved to sail

1

bevond shelterins bays and sirnt of land" micnt

.) . 'J
refer to the decision to break frrm the comfortable
security of their nid'le-class homes for

He iesoised the chaffering sort

Of matelot who tacks from nort

To nort, 'oirss frat isle to isle,
Intent uoon makina his oils. (The Gate)

326

One can think very readily of the
sort" of rolitician in the years c fore the war.
The moments of apnarent success are also haooily

oerceived. 5e recalls tines of decision,

I mean
Times when hori n, heart, any, sea
Dilate with abs ute ootency--
The n esent at "

The course in v
( The 3122) P.

But atainst these significant monents must be set
the times of defeat an} the need for retreichnent.

No, we can afford
To jetison flesh and blooi still less
Than keen these :ncumbrances

Which clutter ozr deck. (T e Gate) P. 24.

73* .

 

From his present position, ~'etireri from the voyagihgj
and oolitical strife he can still assert tho”jh
with vague relevance the old necessity.

When are or weakness dnn

Of travellinr li ht, there

To travel. The Gate)
But if this nevi is still pr sent, it is not
entirely creiihle to the host as he stanis towards
the eqi of llS exoarience, lamed, onlv faintlv

honeful. In the last secion c? this noem he

writes

the nearer
He annroach the harsh whirlpool --
End of our vovaging--w10se null
Grows fa ly st onjer now. Past fears,

327

Hones, joys live in these souvenirs

We‘ve hoot; but they do not onnress

Like flesh and blood our consciences.

eet's say they're given us to console

The heart for beina no longer whole.

For the loss of each wide hour-

The course in view, the wake in flower—-

Khan being rose in utmost power. (The Gate) P. 25.

ihe no et looks to a time of the "past fears, hooes
and joys and he realizes now that they do not
onhress his. do can even seek some consolation in
whole", at least there is the “eninder of the

hast when the wholi snirit of his early manhood

both political and :o tic rose in utnost power."

do subsequent reass;sshent ani self-analysis can

despair Weeks to Sestroy the dignity of the pas
decision. This roan, althoufh it is in many wa”s a
retreat frvm the confi‘ence of the nosition he once
held, hin s that for all his denial some residue
remains. This will not he admitted by his conscious
will which has accepted nolitical and siiritual
defeat. It seems unliiely that this meuoried

residue will nrove sufficient noon which to construct

any new and significant *oet'y. The incidental

1

hints scattered throughout the two most r cent

collections of his verse indicate that the Bay Lewis

328

of the thirties will not quite die, no matter how
firmly his youth's hope is exercised by the des-
nairing and defeated soul who now prefers to
recreate the verse style of his earliest pastoral

writinCr

D'

LOUIS MAGNEICE

By the casual critic, Louis MacNeice is
usually grouped for consideration with Auden,
Spender and Day Lewis, and there are obvious points
of similarity in both technique and intellectual
attitude. One can discover, as usual, the pre-
dominating influence of Auden, and like the other
three, MacNeice wrote of social events in tones of
anger and concern. Yet his view seems more balanced
than that of the others. Edwin Muir once called
his work ”The poetry of a man who is never swept
off his feet.” Because of this restraint MacHeice
saw the Spanish war more in the context of Burcpean
events. Although he felt deeply involved in the
political issues of his time, his reaction to
them was less dramatic and less emotional than the
fierce response recorded in the verse of the other
three. Even the poetry he wrote while in Spain
seems to concern the war only tangentially. In
spite of this fact, MacNeice's work stands so
centrally at the heart of the inter-war poetic
and idealistic dilemma that he cannot be ignored

329

330

in this contest. Ky comments will focu: less on
his response to the wer in Spain and more on his
eramination of the problems of a liberal conscience
in the thirties.

XacNeice's rather surprising impartiality
over Spain probably arises from his awareness of
a broader historical perspective which caused him
to regard the Anchluss, Abyssinia and later Munich,
as equa_ly significant moments at which a decision
had to be made on moral grounds. The other three
would no doubt oint out that the difference in
the case of Spain, was that action was pos*ible;
for here individual decision could lead to the
determination to fight. This was an alte native
which Was not open to a person in the other crises
of this dec fie. “ac“eice's temp rate attitude
to Spain does, however, have very important poetic

results. He would have less to retract today than

u)

manf =oets who allowed their liberal emotion. to
rule their costic sensibility. More important,

he was not "played out” by his r snonse to the
Spanish struggle. After the Spanish wan the other
three poets, inasmuch as they wrote at all, produced

work with a strongly valedictory note; heavy with

the sense of disillusion. Macweice‘s work is for

331
a continuous progression than, for example, Spender's.
He has less to regret spiritually and poetically
than the other three poets. Even MacNeice, however,
ends his poetry on a note that is both depressed
and nostalgic.

In the Preface to his Collected Poems he can

 

write that he "resists the temptation to collect
only what I most admire." This confid nt decision
contrasts pointedly with Spender's "selection" and
Auden's grotesque end unashamed "improvements."
MacNeice reserved his emotions sufficiently that he
was able to resnond to Munich and the outbreak of
the war in 1939, in a manner that is clearly derived
from his earlier writing, while other poets seemed
at this time to have reached a point of apathy and
rejection. If these poems, unlike the later work
of say Day Lewis, show little regression, they do
not,however, demonstrate develoning maturity.

I think in this essay I can demonstrate the
continuity which enabled MacNeice to escape from
the despair that engulfed the others after Spain.
Some ?f his poems written during the war and imm-
ediately afterwards seem more successful than most
of the verse written than by the other three poets.

MacNeice is able to point out the post-war failure

332

to ac:ieve the ideals which the hosts had sought in
the inter-war years. He can rare at the folly when
man cannot learn from the mistaies of history. His
poetry after 1339 does not, alas, show any signif-
icant development; rather there is the restating of
old themes in the old way. If his later poems are
sometimes successful in themselves, they do not
exhibit that growth and mature bower that one had
the rijht to expect from a noat whose nromise had
shown so brightly before he was thirty. MacNeice's
later work allows me to demonstrate again the

basic tenet of this thesis, that none of the poets
who reacted so forcibly, so nowerfully, to the
social and international crises of their times,
have developed into major noets. Their reoutations,
based on their brilliance and bromise in the
thirties have received little reinforcement from
any of their later work.

HacNeice's family and social background were,
like those of the other three, unrer middle-class.
He received the best nossible education at a renowned
nublic school, Marlborougl, and went on to Merton
College Oxford where he studied classics with
great distinction. At Oxford he first read the

noetry of Eliot and subsequently he was introduced

333

to the work and personality of W. H. Auden.

MacNeice shares with the other three poets the

guilt-ridden knowledge, that although he longs

for a social revolution to reform the injustices

and distress of English life, his own background

is part of that privileged class. Hie education

and family background have set him eternally apart

from his sympathies. In the biographical section

of his flgderg goetrx he lists his limitations:
Repression from the age of 6 - 9; inferiority complex
on grounds of physique and class consciousness;
lack of a social life until I was grown up;
late pubertyi ignorance of music; inability to
ride horses.

But at the same time none of these problems altered

his realization that he was among the elite. He

knew the traditional family position.
I was the rector's son, born to the Anglican order

Banned forever from the candles of the Irish poor.
The Chichestere knelt in marble at the end of a

transept
With ruffs about their necks, their portion sure.
Eazia_fiasssls.. p- 7.

His secure acceptance of his class wees daily narrowed
by the knowledge that there were otherswho found only
suffering in their lives. His memory of theearly years
is of constant appeals to his compassion and assaults on

hisconscience.

 

‘Louis MacNeice, Modern Poetry, (Oxford 1938), p.88.

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334

Later when he recalls the scenes in the depression
he describes the area in wxich he lived, the Black

Country of Britain.

Je lived in Birminbham through the slump-
Line your boots with a piece of naoer-
Sunlight dancing on the rubbish dumb,

On the oueues of men and the hungry chimneys.
(Autumn Journal) P. 74.

And he vividly remembers other scenes from his
childhood.

The North where I was a boy

Is still the North, veneered with the grim of Glasgow,

Thousands of men whom nobody will emnloy

Standing at the corners, coughing,

And the street children play on the wet

Pavement--hopscotch or marbles;

And each rich family boasts a sagging tennis net.

(Autumn Journal) P. 64.
He realizes he is set apart, partly by his birth,
but more by his education which was so exactly des-
igned to reinforce all the petty distinctions of
class attitudes; particularly since he studies in
the vocationally "worthless" and thus socially
snobbish field of classical studies. He feels he
must question the puroose of his learning and with
wry wit he seeks a virtue in this apparently dil-
etante area of learning.

I ought to be glad

That I studied the classics at Marlborough and
Merton,
Not everyone here having had
The nrivilsge of learning a language
That is inc ntrovertablv dead. (Autumn Journal) P. 50.

335

There is a nice irony in the use of 'privilege".

That language "incontrovertably dead” may hint at
his belief that English before the stylistic
revolution of Eliot and Auden was at least moribund.
Later his scarcasm becomes heavier as he remarks on
the strong traditionalism of English education.

One might comnare this View with Day Lewis' con-
tinuing admiration for an early classics teacher
who dismissel science with pity for those who spent
their days "making smells."

We learned that a gentlemen never misplaces his
accents,

That nobody knows h w to sneak, much less how to
write

English who has not hob—nobbed with the great

grandoarents of English,
That the boy on the Modern Side is merelv a parasite
But the classical student is bred to the nurple,
his training in svntax
Is also a training in thought
And even in morals; if called to the bar or the
barracks
He will do what he ought. (Autumn Journal) P. 50.

This is a conventional nose of the socialist convert,
and at other times with sore nersoaal honesty he
recalls his school life with a sentimental affection
which is rather enraginq. fie recalls a nostalgic

melage of,
the H. A. gown
Alohas and Betas, central heating, floor nolish
and I think of the befinninés of obher t3 ms...
ind never? reaffirms
That alarm and exhilaration of arrival:
Uhite wooden boxes, clatter of b;o:s, a smell

.II'; II! ‘5 llllllllll' l l

336

Of changing rooxs--Lifebuoy soap and muldy flannels
ind over all a bell

Eragoonin: us to dornitory anl cl ssroom.

(lutumn Journal) P. 40.

 

This dichotomy between the instimxive ffection
ani the regulation left-wing nose may be seen rep-
eatedly through the work of MacNeice, Spender and

.0

Day aewis, with a wiier referenc

4-1 ‘
than tae mere

(D

attitu‘e to their schooling. For them the choice

of a left-win: nosition and a belief in the justice
of socialism could never be the casual acceptance of
a belief instilled through fahily politics. This

is completely different, one mijht observe, from

the instinctive Labour vote of the new left—win:
writers like Alan Stillitoe and John Osborne who

are from trulv working class backgronnis. It had

to be a choice that meant rebellion and also the
rejection of so much that w-s nleasaat, if selfish.
They must have all faced the insidious voice of

the tenoter, whether it came in the O‘tsnoken
comments from the family, or from their owa mind
when indolence and self-satisfaction was temeorarily
dominant. In a similar way Auden i1 Letter to Lord
Bvron calls himself "a selfish, rink old liberal

to the last." The followin: lines suggest the

nresent temnt.tions more seluctivelv than those

337

resisted by Bunyan's pilgrim:

And now the tempter whispers "But you also

Have the slave-owners' mind

Would like to sleep on a mattress of easy profits,
To snap your fingers or a whip and find

Servants or houris ready to wince and flatter

And build with their degradation your self-esteem."
(Autumn Journal) P. l1

 

It is unconsciously revealing, that after these
evocative and tantalizing lines, MacNeice's rej-
ection is stilted and pompous. It includes these
lines of priggish moral posturing:

And I aeswer that this is largely so for habit
makes me

Thin: that victory for one imolies another's
defeat,

That freedom means the power to order.

(Autumn Journal) P. 17.

 

He escapes from his dangerous dreams with a stiff
3
does of Marxist theory; MacNeice equally establishes
with precision those same exotic temptations tran-
slated into the elegant comforts of English country
house living. It is a gracious settled world of
roses on a rusthetrellis and mulberry trees
And bacon an? ggs in a silver dish for breakfast
And all the inherited assets of bodily ease.
(Autumn Journal) P. 9.
The choice of the nouns make a particularly exact
vision of traditional British comfort.

The socialism of these intelleCtuals, however,

was not only a matter of conscience, but endeared

338
to offer an alternative to the apparent collapse
of the old social order. Besides the economic
stagnation it seemed also that their whole class
was doomed along with all its futile privileges.
Again MacNeice records this belief with a mixture
of nostalgic affection and sarcasm; that strange
dualism of emotion that afflicts those who reject
their class.
None of them can endure. for how could they,
possibly, without
The flotsam of private property, pekinese and
poloyanthus.
The good things which in the end turn to pdbon
and puss,
Without the brandy chairs and the sugar in the
silver tongs.

And the inter-ripple and resonance of years of
dinner gongs? (Pgegg). p. 17.

Again it is the nouns in these lines which are
especially evocative. One notes the slight
effectation of the sugar tongs and the social
status of the gong, usually acquired during some
stint of military or official duty in the colonial
east. let if this is seen as the foolish or greedy
indulgence of the privileged MacNeice regularly
hints at his reservations in the face of change.
The revolution that seemed inevitable would seep

away more than these trivial impediments of class.

P.

339
What will happen when our civilization, like a long
pent balloon
What will happen will happen: the whore and the balloon
Will come off best; no dreamers, they cannot lose their
dream

And are at least likely to be reinstated in the new
regime. (Zoems), p. 18.

Such knowledge made MacNeice question some of the easy opti-
mism that flowered in the verse of his more politically ortho-
dox contemporaries. He could not escape the appeals made to
his liberal conscience, but he always understood that the
human issue was deeper than even the most violent revolution
could solve. Without Spender's deep if sometimes facile
compassion; without Auden's easy assumption of arrogant
authority and Day Lewis' confident politics MacNeice had to
forge an acceptable synthesis to face a world that despised
the attitudes to which he had been reared. He sought a
future he knew that would offer no solution for his poetic
imagination. Although he was too brave to avoid accepting
the principle of the greater good for the dispossessed
through revolution, he perceived that his decision had to
be a choice between two dangerous forces. This issue was
less simple than the others appeared to have imagined.
While he saw no alternative but to Join the wave of the
future, he had moments when he regretted the past even while
he setirized it. As he honestly observed,

My sympathies are, I suppose, Left -- on paper and

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340

in the soul.
But not in my heart or my guts. On paper yes, I
would vote

Left any day, sign manifestos, answer questionnaires
Ditto my soul. My soul is all for moving towards the
classless society. But unlike Plato, what my soul

says
does not seem to go. There is a lot more to one than
soul you know-owith my heart and my guts I lament the
passing of class, property and snobbery-~I amrbOth a
money snob and a class snob.

In his verse he sought to express his new belief, always

aware that there existed the same inner struggle in his

poetry as in his life. Grigson recalls MacNeice's under-

graduate poetry in his memoirs. He describes it as having,
1 many-coloured plumage out of the tropical Jungle or

a cage in the zoc--He was a spangled acrobat performing
on silvery wires. Icicles mixed with ice cream and

lace and froth and fireworks. (The eggs; 9; Silver), p.115.

Such a style could even be a handicap for the new subjects
MacNeice wished to describe. In revealing lines in Bologna
by a 21V! fiazzgg gate, Death acts as an alter ego, warning
him of the poetic road that he must traverse. The speaker
has offered a conventionally Georgian view of the nature
of a post:

I thought a shepherd was a poeto-on his flute--

But certainly poets are sleepers,
The sleeping beauty behind the many coloured hedge.

(M) e P. 25o

 

2; Crossed The flinch (London, 1938), p. 125.

 

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341
Death suggests a different and contemporary vision
of the poet. The instinctive use of the "pylon”
train image is in itself revealing. . i
I thought he was a poet and could quote the prices
Of significant living and decent dying, and could

lay the rails level on the sleepers
To carry the powerful train of abstruse thought.

(12229.) e p0 250

MacNeice's bounded duty was to write verse that would
support this ”powerful train of abstruse thought.“
Death goes on to reprove him sternly for his neglect:
All you do is burke the other and terrible beauty,
all you do is hedge
And shirk the inevitable issue ...
Poetry you think is only the surface vanity,

The painted nails, the hips narrowed by fashion,
The hooks and eyes of words; but it is not that

only. (22221.3). p. 25.
The comparison between the transient triviality of
certain poetry and the pointless and absurd alternations
in female fashions is effectively sardonic, but this is
only negative warning that the slickly up-to-date is
sterile and impermanent. The positive instructions are
in the last two lines. MacNeice sees it his duty to
seek "the other and terrible beauty” of true poetry.
To achieve this he understands that he must face "the
inevitable issue“ which must be resolved both in his
political and his poetic life. Death again asserts the
responsibilities the poet must meet:

342
All the time is not your tear-off Jotter, you
cannot afford to scribble

So many false answers.
This escapism of yours is blasphemy...(Poems),

p. .
There are several associations involved in that “tear-
off”Jotter.“ There is the idea that casual poetry
is wrongly assumed to be eternally significant; that
past failure and experience can be casually rejected
by the poet at will. All these thoughts reinforce
the essential condemnation of the poet's attitude
to life and verse which is trivial and self-centered.
MacNeice realized if he was to write other than ”many
false answers” he would have to break away from the
social and poetic traditions which bound him to a
class and an attitude. If his social conscience
helped him to escape the complacency of his home
background, the influence of Auden did the same
for his poetry.

Auden's persuasive influence permeated this
decade and although his voice had a fresh power that
swept away much cent and mush in contemporary
poetry it had a very dangerous effect on the writing
and sensibilities of poets like MacNeioe and Day
Lewis, who were trying to find their own authentic
voices. Auden's style acted on their poetry like a

too potent drug on the body; its sudden exhilerating

34}
effects soon offset by the long-term damage done.

The danger was that in the emulation of Auden, too
often only the slick, the obvious and the crude was
borrowed. These qualities were grafted onto a
developing style that could be stunted or deformed
by such borrowing, for they contradicted so often
the natural poetic development of the younger poet.
One form that always marks Auden's influence is the
use of the music-hall Jingle. Auden often used
this device with superb rhythmic skill. In a less
subtle hand it too regularly becomes tuneful, synco-
pated doggerel; gay but meaningless. Consider the
following couplets. They are presumably aura-dist
and may owe something to the violent pictorial
fantasies of Dali, but their symbolism is designedly
non-rational and senseless.
John MacDonald found a corpse, put it under the sofa
Waited till it came to life and hit it with a poker
Sold its eyes for souvenirs, sold its blood for

whiskey
Kept its bones for dumb-bells to use when he was

(Earth Oompgls), p. 58. fifty.
One can point to the Jauntiness and the inconsequence
which makes this sound a little like Auden, but its
silliness can only be attributed to the foolishness
of the writer himself. In the same vein but now

attempting to shock with a silly crudity are the
following lines:

c
‘
9.
.' I
. .
.s
v v
v
a
e A
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l', . ,. .
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t .
A 0
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.
. I.
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v , Y .
'1

~4-

344
Mrs. Carmichael had her fifth, looked at the Job

- with repulsion
Said to the midwife "Take it way; I’m through with

overproduction." (EEELQEEQEEELE):
- p. 5 .
Such lines can produce a timer, and they can even express
a kind of rough exasperation which in the following
example has a resilient strength in its homely colloq-

uialismf

Sit on your arse for fifty years and hang your
hat on a pension.

Such instinctive social criticism, although easily making
for excess, has a certain healthy power, and it is some-
times slipped unexpectedly into lines of unexampled dog-
geral. The poem Bagpipe Music from which the above lines
about John MacDonald were taken continues in similar lines
of free-flowing drivel, until, within the following pair
of couplets, the meaning suddenly twists into a signifi-
cant social statement that achieves poetry. Consider the
eemntrast between the cheerful rhyme of the first oouplet
with the sudden seriousness and anger of the latter:
It's no go my honey-love, it's no go my poppet,
Work your hands from day to day, the winds will
blow the profit.
The glass is falling hour by hour, the glass will
fall forever,

But you break the bloody glass you won't hold up
the weather.

3Earth compels, p. 59.MacNeice had used this baro-
meter image much earlier in Glass Falling (1926).

A wet night coming, the glass is going
Down, the sun is going down.

It is interesting to see how in the later verse
the image has acquired specific political association.

 

 

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345

Here the colloquialism and the use of “bloody” seem less
of a pose, less of an affected counter to Georgian poetry,
then an honest and exasperated desire to get through to
a wider audience. It is a minor example of the attempt
make by so many other poets in the thirties to make
poetry bite and sting again; to redeem it from its fallen
state in which it existed as an annodyne for the senti-
mental and the self-satisfied. This is he true nature
of the revolution that Eliot once brought to English
poetry. The third line above is a pessimistic asser--
tion of the political events of this period. As the last
line observes, ignorance and the refusal to face the
plainest, recorded evidence is only delusion. The
truths-that the posts were warning of at this time
were as certain as the measured facts on the dial. To
dismiss such warnings as false, was as efficacious as to
destroy an instrument which offered readings one dis-
liked. Perhaps there is even the'more pessimistic
assertion that events were already beyond man's control,
having the same elemental power as natural forces.

Exactly the same contrast between proximate lines
of poetry and drivel is exhibited in MacNeice's poem,
Letter to Graham and Anna. Its beginning is simply

dreadful, none the better for being consciously bad.

346

ham and Anna frxn
this letter to N.
that town is not the
Pauli i: -ii of tonne, the
3 see without
0;

4.1
ut’l
7.9T

A

(D

Q
‘7

53.

icative of the enotiness or

('3
s.)

actually erve: to low r the reafle

anterior smile or delithte

gen for the sudden ch»n

we
’W
a

quick of true noetrv. The

H)

C

D.)

US 3303’]

rictin: an‘

which Macfieice was trying

ha Fjroun9 hai

:, temtorarily

ape into ungnown ierrit

detachment he had run away,

‘ly running

W the chin
familiar room,
*rills IIDO
cushions,
(Letter fr

If the first lin niliar

descrintion of the of routine in

last two a rear to me to show, with

compression, tr e venial rice 8 of

the vicarious efnerience of books

ueual
Elev:
seine
Revkjavik.

to

at l

for as

air

U133

Arctic Gate

mess
cook
sick

d comrrehension

a of tone, a

cat reason for

The

.... c .o ,_ w.
mafie iron fliS

net, to be
cry. To seek

h e exnlainfi,

away

TS
3“,

the

frjfl day to day,
smile

n the file,

the :11 at h
or Icelani)

S

eel
E

- . Z

/

5.
in

city

’.Je

to ach eve lezihess an:
cerebal leczery aimed at the hassles W‘min, an

e otion which is as heated as it is introvert. More
fearieme than this bric-a-brac is the onnression of

the iitsllectdal strain where all experience becomes

_ .. ,3 .. ‘ ,
an unresolvei *roolcn.

The ash shes 0" sex, tie nanic to retrieve
Sigwifica-2? fr 1 the river 0? passing neonles.
The attedet to cllnb tie ever clinbinj st:?ple.
(Letter ’r‘n Iceland) E. 35.

 

” ~ ~~H‘ " ‘\ - . "x v M: ~~ Ar‘. ... 7 fl '
Arbish or-l lhutlf DiggCoto tQa effect on a man

1

e 1 _
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nnocently

honv: he and accieveo a noint o” tenworar? sexdal

g e _ n e ' e _. _ ,
wasstv1t7. The 30rd panlc' is a further ren:lncer
of the ur/e-cv :qi ”error tion hich se‘meo to

:Sflict this deeaie. The e was so such t7 be d-ne

1' f V p! A" - 1 V .- ’.i ... q'
to rain SlimlJlCGQCB from the QVQJ-Tu31_fl; liver

becane a kind of frenzy, "hich Hacfleice sought tem-
eorarilv to escane in Iceland.

Here is a dif
flan: in the a

u

ferent rhythm, the iujjled balls
ir. (Letter from Iceland) P. 75,
The image em hasizes his sense 3? escane fr:n the
constant effort to retain the nr cartons balance of
a dozen conflicts, for in jugglins, only concentration
and activity can retain even the statue que of

hanging balls. This tvne of image is Cl ver ans

tvcical of Macfleice's qualityas a post. I shall

348

ditcu 3 this issue further later on: now I merely
wish to inflicate the may in which in MacNeices's

‘ p
I

hands the denterOdsly powerful influence of Auden s
glib rhythm and rungent colloquialisss is often
absorbed into his own authentic style: the tailure
to be seen when he merely emulates the Auden forms,
is verv obvious.

Another factor which HacLeice had to fit into
his noetic stvle Was the "pylon" imagerv of this

decade. Most noets a this time played with this

-' .' ' D h 3" ‘fi '.1 - ’N' ‘ "a
gin: o; flaSJf in—to-dateness. so often this

0‘
(1)
0

ans nothin: ‘ut a mannerism which more than any-
thinf has served to "date" the noetry of this time.
It se;med to be imagin d that the incorporation of
references to the new science would produce a "new"
Coetry nore :elevent to the changes of this decade.

. v

Macheice manajed to avoid the worst effects of tais
inagerv as he also managed to avoid an excess of the
influence of Auden. Yet he did not choose to

avoid the "machine" refe enc s and he can use the
form as crudely as anvone. There is a connarisan
which bezins An Tclosue for Christmas in which the

movement of time is seen as e worn—out machine:

The jaded calender revolved
The nuts need oil, chokes and valves. (Poems),P. 13.

349

Here the associated meanings may be usefully eXplored.
Sugar presumably suggests the false values of this
society, the trashy writing and the sentimentality.
Just as diabetes is self-extending and finally kills
the body in which it exists, so vulgarity and literary
rubbish debaae; the whole cultural body on which it
preys, to the point where it destroys the life which
it exploits. Here the unusual and modern image is
successful because it communicates a poetic meaning
which is the only Justification for any imagery.

Generally MacNeica'a imagery is far less exclu-
sively intellectual than Audcn's. It has similarity
with Day Lewis' sensory power, though this in clearly
not a case of influence in either direction. Images
of dazzling brilliance in their evoked colour are
typical of his writing. Consider the almost execs-u
ively exotic colouring of the following lines:

Indigo mottlc of purple and amber ink

Damaon whipped with cream, improbable colours of sea

And unanalyaable rhythms-fingering foam
Tracing erasing its runes, regardless

or you and mo. (Holes in the Sky), p. 23.

The colours luckily dazzle the eye, otherwise one
begins to visualize a little too distinctly the vomit-
making mixture of ink and cream and squashed fruit.
But if there is sometimes excess tharaia regularly

the powerfully controlled image of deeply satisfying

. t
a
a .

n
O
. r
D e
w
I
a

pan
.

a
r
i
g
I" I
" ‘
.
‘ .
‘,

gh

W.

350

apprOpriateness. In the line “Between March and April,
when barrows of daffodils butter the pavement,” that
unexpected verb has an assured accuracy. The scene is
perceived in the same plastic depth as in the painting
of an artist working with a palate-knive. There is

a connection of colour and form. In the next example
taken from Autumn gourgal, the colour becomes func-
tional and reflects the mood of the poet's response.

And August going out to the tin trumpets of

nasturtiums
And the Salvation Army blare of brass.

(W1. p- 9.

The novelty of the image is soon lost in our appreci-
ation of its effectiveness in conveying the harsh
brightness of high summer. The colour and shape of
the nasturtiums' horn-shaped flowers calls to mind
the brass trumpets of the Salvation Army band and its
strident colour also reminds us of the fierce hearti-
ness of the S. A. meeting. Another example of this
original imagery is found in the following lines of

London Rain:

The rain of London pimples
The ebony street with white. ,(Plant and Phantom),

f p p. 23.
MacNeice had used this image before in the lines,

After the warm days the rain comes pimpling
The paving stones with white. ( tumn Journa ),

p. e

‘0

‘v

35$
The verb "pimples" recalls the earlier example
”butters.” It has the same ingenuity which makes
its impact by being uneXpected, but then, after the
first shock, investigation confirms the apprOpriateness
of the application, as one visualizes the first
spatter marks of the rain on the dusty urban streets.
Another example is found in a poem called Sunday
Mgzning. MacNeice describes the sounds of music in
terms as unexpected as that colourful Salvation
Army comparison.

Down the road someone is practicing scales,
The notaslike little fishes vanish with a wink of

tails.
(Pgems), p. 39.

The implied pun of scales of fish and music might
be an accidental connection. But the fish tail
suggests the shape of the note on the page of music
before it becomes sound. Then as the sound floats
away it has the same quick transitory existence of
the fish briefly seen as it flicks its way in a
river. The transience and the sudden flash of beauty
are both present in this association.

Many images of this type may be found throughout
MacNeice's writing, and they combine imagination with
a powerfully developed sensory perception. There is
the visual dazzle of the following lines where the

verbs lend vital exhilaration to the sense of colour:

...-

352

Or where broom and gorse beflagged the chalkland
All the flare and gusto of the unenduring
Joys of a season. (Earth Compels), p. 9.

In another place the image suggests a tactual sensa-

tions

The sand looks like metal, feels like fur.4

The sensuous excitement of taste is explored in the
vivid image of the grape "exploding on the palate.”
The very verb, though echoing Hopkins' famous ”sloe"
image, is evidence of the vivid physical delight .

of Macxeice's senses.

A Basque
Woman cooked on charcoal-oaubergines with garlic
And there were long green grapes exploding on the
palate
And smelling of eau de cologne. (C cted came),
1). e

In the following lines the chicken/wood flesh analogy
is introduced and this image combines elements which
were separate in some of the other comparisons.
The night is damp and still,
And I hear dull blows on wood outside my window;
They are cutting down the trees on Primrose Hill
The wood is white like the roast flesh of chicken,
Each tree falling like a closing fan.
(Autumn Journal). 1). 31.
The broken white wood of the tree is compared in tex-

ture and colour , and behind this comparison must

 

4Hgles in the Sky, p. 23.

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. . '~ . ¢ ...-us - -~ “l.|»1'- c ‘.AO-ed

353

also be the idea of death as these London trees are
destroyed. In another sensory combination the poem
The Cyclist has an image that combines sound and sight.

The grass boils with grasshoppers. (H as in the Sk ),
p. e

Here the buzzing of these insects is a hiss like simmering
water, and their constant flickering movement across the
grass suggests the breaking bubbles on the surface.

Some lines from the poem entitled i n he are
particularly interesting because they demonstrate a
strange amalgam between Hpylon imagery and the use
of vivid descriptive colour.

- 0n shining lines the trams, like vast sarcophagi move

Into the sky, plum after sunset merging to duck' 3 egg

bared with mauve,

Zeppelin clouds, and Pentecost-like the cars' head-

lights bud

Out from sideroads and the traffic signals, creme
de menthe or bull's blood.

(3.22%): P0 #20

Within these four lines one finds the contemporary
reference of trams, zeppelins, cars' headlights and
traffic signals, and a vivid mixture of colour recalling
the damson and cream of 21319331. There are plum, duck-
egg, mauve, menthe and blood. The colours might be an
accurate description of the sunset, but somehow the
mixture suggested by the nouns is so unusual that it
absorbs all the attention which sahould be given to the
experiencing of the colours of the description. These

lines fail for the opposite reason that the others succeed.

 

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354
The earlier unusual images stop the attention momentarily
so that investigation of the image can take place. Then
one perceives its general application. Hereafter the
mind has been arrested by that inconsequent mixture of
items; it seems to remain bogged down in them, refusing
to budge into the generalized perception of colour that
might be the experience described.

MacNeice is not only an imagist of colour and
texture, he sometimes, though less often, employs
Auden's intellectual image. In some cases this type
of image lacks a definite reference, rather in the
manner of certain French film directors who threw
an inexplicable incident at an audience seeming to
assume that it is the duty of the viewer to supply
any symbolic reference. When MscHeice describes a
mysterious incident, as in the following lines, I
suspect he hopes the Kafka-like unexpectedness will
create a mood in the reader. I feel it conceals an
inability to produce a more definitive concrete
image to describe the experience.

And as I go out I see a windscreen wiper

In an empty car

Wiping away like made and I feel astounded
That thin s have gone so far.

(W . po 31.

When he moves closer to the typical hammer-stroke

I . I ..
v
Q n
a
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c
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f o
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I.
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. . ..

355

intellectielism of finish, we find the exciting
e, howerful and noexiect i tiot was such a
strength in Auden s ve"re. MacTeice's "f- must
cut the throat of love," has much in common with

. . 1‘ "yr , : .-. ,1
Au.ec s The Cigln

oromise fractured in the
A ‘ H , 1 1 _. 1 A 5 fl ’ e
garden. In 03th ca :8 the 013VBIHBS: momentarily
Jezzles .H‘ the is act is far greater than any

subs en; Jent rationil examination of the image can

’40

etuleih. It s the drive of the lean, spare,
wowerfwl rhetoiic that e cite s more than any Tater
oedestrioh attenot to explore the ramifications

of me

1;)

hing can exrlain. At other times the
i sect can be smol} sustained by mintel investig-

ation of the images. The followinr two lines are

avs ”id, ‘mo follow
J :h Africa' 3 of thOtht.5

Here the ca val iatro‘uct101 o associations of

 

5 This is a development of the same image used in

an earl? .oem Boris: 3 hshihe (1923).

 

Is it worth while r“*lly
To colonize an? more the already populous
Tree of knOWledge?

The later version is mor e effective b80313 e of
the association: of "Africa" and eiso becaise
the earlier usage insists on one visualizing
the ludicrous oictnre of :eoole colonizing

a tree.

O
p)
‘1
d
)4
Kl)

areas o“ knO”led:e as y t vnex loite‘. The intel -
loctial nioneer‘ lead the ”iv an” nahe nmr ”191‘“

U)
<;
(A
p.
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to
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(—4}.
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the 013 Sis averere ii”; the exclorers mtiin: way
foe tie ;ettlers. Intellectnallr the fure thinhers
frenhre thh fffi‘fl! for the applied scientists.
These as ociati 13 ievel n the idea far beyoni the
‘Tlflt o? the girst insect of this metachor.

Iith the fievelonment of tie e techniques HacNeice

'-. v, .. .1 .- ..1 ' , A , u v.1 , __‘ .9, O 9
.03:4 , at is high was to express 1e sociil beliels

H3
H4
1

that hai destcoyei the nlacie accentance o

‘

and oackgronnd. Eith Mecmeice, as
with the other poets I am considering, the ideol-
‘gical moti'ation of their writing w;s the sense of
outrase, the shared conscience in the face of the
failure of the scene ic anf social order to grant

a ran a life of even minimal dececcv. They saw,

as a continual huv liation, the human hosition when
men was dominated and fiesraoed by the forces he
shozlf have controlled for his own welfare. In

dis “oetry HacNeice states the familiar tripartite

357
grievance against contemporary society. A social
and economic order that allowed millions to remain
unemployed, and burned crops while people starved,
was an evil mockery. This order created, or at
least tolerated, ugliness, squalor and human despair.
Politically in the face of the Nazi threat there was
fatalism and a shameful evasion of responsibility
while "the glass is going down."

Perhaps at times he regretted the necessity of
facing these issues in his verse, as he had felt
some nostalgic longing for the past which he felt
he had to reject. Perhaps, like Day Lewis, the
times made him a poet with a tone he would never
have chosen had he developed as a poet twenty
years before or after. Their times made demands
upon them that only a rigorous sense of duty and
social necessity allowed them to fulfill. It is
a measure of their true status as poets, that in
embracing this undesired demand, they created
sincere and significant poetry. It is perhaps
reading a little more into MacNeice's poem Aubadg
than he intended if one regards it as a kind of
farewell to the type of poetry he might have writ-
ten. It includes a sense of contrast he must have

felt. The comparison is not only between past and

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358

present time; the one rosy and beautiful, the

other grim and forbidding: it must include the
alteration in his own life brought about when the
silver spoon of his childhood was fielded for the
search for a social justice. One noti 33 especially

the vivii senshous enjoyment of the first lines,

'\ s V I '. 1 ‘ '~I‘| A -"* "t ‘ / ’- -- . ! '.. "V , «fl
taste, tolCl Edd colour Cijablfl: an €40ltinu sense

Javinr bittei on life like a share anole
Or rlavinq it like a fish, been honey,
Having felt with finders that the sky is blue,
' e we after that to look f rward to?
he twilivnt o- the gods but a orecise dawn
w o‘ ‘ .hd newsbovs crving war.

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oz sense in ressions, sharply satisfy n3, the future

)

"sailor :1i grey does not even nrooise the cosmic
sensation of cotterdamnerunq.

Putting this pxst behind him MacNeice seeks

‘42

to record the contennorarv scene, again 331 drain,

.9

in tends varv7nj from violent anger to almost snic1dal
despair. It was above all the eternal ugliness he

saw on every side: the maCiine-nroduced soualor of
cheap goods and shoidy housing. The vision tore

at his noetic soul, and he saw its manifestation

on every side Whether in Belfast thons or Birmingham

 

 

U)

Suburbs. The shop: contain only valgar trivialitie

359

331 in the marble steres rubber “loves
031;;er, celluloi waiite? “are, filzriit
Metal Git its, cerc1ment lafinfihafies, hare
Atternts at buvable baautv. (Poemsh P.

The iescrirtion manifests an al ost “1’“l337 rev-
ulsion. 1he t 11‘s tr: cruiel* cheae or vaguelv obscene
lire thr*e rubber “loves. The last line l? sin lv

a sieer Wiich, if c:thet§cally lust, is brutal in

its irnlicatE01s.

On eeother f7 ffl”j Frivizj intv Birminjh1m,
nacfleice's vision move; from the n” ticuler to the
whole l)LFb”l s~eawl of if“) new chair‘ eirbs
Ribben irvelo “set by shecul tive 0111 ers had
fiesecratei the co ntrysifi vith a series of moclc-

/
eries of the nest-war romis: of "homes for 1eroes."o
through the suburbs houses, houses

3played outrards

Seiucinil

 

 

And 01-y a s‘r- nch 3‘rim. of the rec
c
6 This vision is reheated in the s
frfim iutumn Journal where he tel
ribbon ”»velonnca elonf the new
reads lead 13 out of London.

Alan:
Ru

the
n7 the a

l“

a.1ntlet ff i”

Y“ v}
L‘L-

Ht

Ifhere hmrr1e*Lv s h l 17
Eith amour nrenre 1n the

(Autuun1 Joiuwiil

..i

I
J

Ecrth Circuler an

th

helf-timbere d hau.

for rest

{:33

d

(0 0)

line hress

effic through
'rv hays

earth in their

crete claws;

ul lines
tl-e
rial

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360

In these houses men as in a dream pursue the
Platonic Forms

With wireless and cairn terriers and gadgets

approximating to the fickle norms

And endeavour to find God and score one over the
neighbour

By climbing tentatively upward on Jerry-built
beauty and sweated labour.

(M). Po 4‘.

All words here add to MacNeice'e disgusted condemn-
ation; ”aplayed" with its suggestion of the grotesque
and deformed, ”seducingly rigged" implying the
cheap ornamentation to lure the moat vulgar taste,
an implication confirmed by the ”half-timbered”
describing the shoddy and pointless gimmick of.
borrowing a past beauty. The whole description
reminds one of whores standing in cheap seductive-
neee along a street. The house is balanced on "Six-
inch" foundations for this inferior architecture aims
at only the most transient dwelling. Besides the K
literal short-lived quality, there is the thought
that ”racing earth" offering violent and rapid
change will as soon dispose of these shoddy houses
as the tallecioue dreams which they so inadequately
satiety. The idea is carried further for, it these
are dream houses to the advertisers, the men who
live in them exist "as in a dream."

In seeking the toys of their eocial consumption

of dogs and radio (the entertainment revolution of

r‘"

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361
the thirties) they ere asleep to the real issues
of their world. They strive only for conformity
of no ms uni these cre 13 fl Ely chenfeqble es the
,

ietest fashion in dress or a Chili's craze. The

certainty' wdlch they done} tn fine in such exist-

(I)

nce is oerheeentlv denieo because such c‘ecwrit‘

' n I

is 0117 3 Been“, eni so the? see: e03 end 'score

rm

one over the eel: hour." the ju'teoosition is

ironic because it states the obvious f1 lacy; a
true relitieus or ethical nosition cendot be found

..

in a societv .eiicetefl only t3 ere d6 arbition.

L

3;

”unweri" 3“ lies ironicellv both to the

The WOTJ
material progress. Ho wonder, in either case,

the nrosress is onlv "tentative" if the norms of
bceuty are the oh an crudity of this architecture,
eni the savage economic competition of

e i w
labour? not even nuflen s icy eer can eqiel the

3

power of H cj~ice's vehement denunciation. fiis

(

H
,u
._)
DJ
(0

eves see the decay throughout the land
densest 3 new hoetry to reflece "iiylls an? easter-
i

als" which woul? be dishonest in th

he end the Styx;
Urotit little aid the
hunchbeck

That le3t line it a errei,a. revxls ion a
d finetioi is also an intell ual one f
of the In metri7l levolution hes bee- not
but the aborte‘ r=con“.ic systen "ith ell
flQTlu.”

A o7rst tie7v o tint e313 lt: on t

wit‘

th

*tht it is

Bobs on e C7rt orte rouni the end en richs.

ling us no more idylls , no more eastosels,

53 acre eni s o? the -nglieh exrt);

The countrf 1.3 a Cvin‘lih" azpexc to the fectorv,
Swualii as a1 efterhirt1. (Autunn Journe ),‘. 70.

 

 

a core the \c' )ble ntt7c:s on hi
ce. in all i‘es there is eviience of
til? society:

Outside the delicaters a shoe tne ‘1ero
fit7 his riobons 11‘ his emot’ ioied-
c" ya. 5‘ m -

oedjes tor I n37, while with t: rned up
i's conredes blow t1 Ollgh bra3 the L0
(firth Correls),P. ‘2.

3 513111 scene is iqrcked by the word

a its meenin* of 71y, rather s

not the b tear who needs to

ushers? here. 1039 tu7ned up collere '-
hint o? innieiiete warmth en? the c‘ i e
outriie the flee] sion el contribute to
wvi h is es rleintlre as the tune the? in

dis

scene 3t recestedly

horrified visitn. In Autuin Journal

0 .0
iro"'
.l\ J- -.‘
. ..

be
h

:

nev'ilife,
"fickle

nd r y Ai
antes"

hateful berjin*;

363
a similar scene:

Beneath the standard lights the paralytic winding
His barrel organ sprays the passers by

With April music, the many ribboned hero

With half a lung or leg waits his turn to die.

(Autumn Journal), p. 72.

Even the offer of help is loaded with false values. When
approached by a do-gooder charitably collecting by "the
sale of little cardboard flags on pins," MaoNeice snarls
"Us too they sold." He denounces the whole wretched
pack with an indignation worthy of Siegfried Sassoon, but
with an intellectual Judgment that is most powerful than
Sassoon's emotional condemnations.

Us too they sold

The women and the men with many sheep.

Graft and Qgression, legal prevarication

Drove out the best of us,

Secured long life to only the sly and the dumb

To those who would not say what they really thought

But got their ends through pretended indifference

And through the sweat and blood of thralls and hacks
Cheating the poor man of their share ... (Letters from

lcglang), p. 128.

Here in a few lines is the accumulated bitterness of a
generation of those who had fought in the Great war, had
fought in vain, suffering only for the selfishness of those
at home and the dismal disillusion that awaited them at demo-
bilization. MacNeice had not experienced this betrayal
himself, but he perceived it with an acute political reali-
zation which is deeper than Sassoon's less focussed anger;
more violent than Owen's fatalistiocnmpassion. Knowing

his generation inherits this chaos and the results of past

indifference he can link his own generation with the
soldiers’ suffering and say, ”Us too they sold."7

 

iHis mood is clearly allied to 0. Day Lewis' observations

It. a.
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364

He could see no end to the crisis except an explosion of revo-

lution or war, for

given poverty,
Given two on the dole and one a cripple,
Given the false peace and the plight of England...
Given her wakeful nights trying to balance the budget
And given her ignorance of her own frailty,
What other end was coming?

Yet for the humanist with the humane sympathies of MacNeice, the
effect of this decay on people's souls was more depressing than
the abstract problems of social Justice. It is possible to
conceive a practical solution to the problem of unemployment,
and of the exploitation of labour, but how can one change the
spiritual smugness and aridity of a nation in whidh,

Most are accepters, born and bred to harness
And take things as they come. (Autumn igurgal), p. 16.

MacNeice and all the idealistic social reformers who shared

his views, wanted to rouse peOple from the apathy and dis-
interest into which, they argued, social hardship had driven
them. MacNeice's conception of life was totally an idealist
one, seeking an escape as he had said, "From the excess of

books and cushions, the high heels,” His own vision showed the
way to a life of greater significance and beauty, reJecting

the ridiculous concept of life as something measured in material

acquisition. He acorns a person

Who wants to live, i.e. wants more

Presents, Jewelry, furs, gadgets, solicitations

As if life were not

Following the curve of a planet or controlled water
But a leap in the dark, a tangent, a stray shot.

 

7 continued from previous page.
in his autobiography.

When...I first read the poems of Wilfred Owen I found myself
at home with his language and his meanings, though I had
suffered nothing of the agony from which they grew and had
been too young to feel that pity that informs them. (222

Buried DayI (New‘Xork, 1960), p. 85).

..
.0

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no

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.

365

It is this we learn after so many failures,

The building of castles in sand, of queens in

snow,

That we cannot make any corner in life or in

life's beauty,

That no river is a river that does not flow.
(Autumn Journal), pp.lO-11.

I regret that "i.e.", because it seems evidence that
this poetry is conceived as a visual form, to be
read rather than to be sounded aloud, yet the theme
itself is honest, even heroic, in its acceptance of
human limitations. Those exotic attempts to define
the brevity of life and its beauty as "the curve of
a planet" and a "tangent" seem strangely evocative.
They all have in common their indefiniteness, the
unknown of the "leap," the side-issue of the "tangent"
and the inconsequence of that "stray shot." These
lines acknowledge above all the transience of beauty,
a lack of permanency that in no way invalidates its
significance. To realize that all rivers flow, that
all castles will crumble, that all women are mortal,
is to comprehend a truism which yet has to be re-
leanned by every generation. One cannot "make a
corner in life." "To corner" is the stock-exchange
eXpression for attempting to gather together into
one control all of a single commodity. It applies
here to the attempt to bring together the material
totality of life. Also the associations of such a

366

phrase ironically underline the folly of considering
life in such materialist terms.

MacNeice was able to make this diagnosis for
himself, but his aim was wide communication. Con-
ceiving life in its consecutive beauties he could
only be horrified at the indifference and ignorance
of the mass of the pOpulation. His concern was
naturally the stronger because he could not emulate
the easy Fascist attitude which assumes that the
masses are mindless sheep awaiting the dominating
leader. MacNeice's beliefs were optimistic in that
they assumed the dignity of nan. Yet along with
the ugliness of the contemporary scene his mind was
continually affronted by the failure of men to live
up to the capacity of their natures. Too often men
seemed satisfied to wallow in an acceptance of the
dreary world they had inherited. MacNeice feels
both deSpair and anger at this knowledge. As he
describes it,

So take London today: the queues of itching

minds

Waiting for news that they do not want, for
nostrums

They only pretend to believe in; most of their
living

Is grinding mills that are not even their own.
The pigeons are luckier. (Holes ig_the Sk ,) p.63.

The picture of those "itching" minds both purient

367

and unsatisfied is deliberately unattractive. Above
all this is a description of purposelessness, the
dreary round of meaningless stimulation taking the
place of thoughtful living. Even their work has a
pointlessness. Although it occupies them a large
part of the day, it gives them no personal satisfaction
and adds nothing to their own pnuperity er well-being.
When this day's labour is done they seek only the
anodyne of escapist entertainment and self-forgetful-
ness. There is more sadness than condemnation in
MscNeice'e lines,

The eight hour day but after that the solace

Of films and football pools

Or of the gossip or cuddle, the moments of self-

glory -

Or self-indulgence, blinkers on the eyes of doubt

The blue smoke rising and the brown lace sinking
In the empty glass of stout. (A umn l),

p.10
Self-indulgence in sex or the minor gamble, the empty

pleasures of the cigarette and the glass of beer all
set as "blinkers on the eyes of doubt.” Without the
routine of minor pleasure to fill the emptiness of
non-working hours questions would intrude, demanding
why life must be without purpose and pleasure.
MacNeice and his friends aimed at suggesting a more
significant use of life than ”the gossip or cuddle.”

In the face of such massive indifference at
this level, it is hardly surprising that he would

 

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368

find some of his assertions less than efficacious.
The desire to suggest reform met uneXpected dis-
interest at the working-class level. iany reformers
have discovered the disconcerting fact that one
cannot always count upon the support of those for
whom the reform is designed; habit and indifference
prove too strong. The poet saw that in many cases
their success was nominal.

At times we are doctrinaire, at times we are

frivolous

Plastering over the cracks, a gesture making good,

But the strength of us does not comes out in us.

(£2215): p 33.

There is pessimism for he sees their efforts as only
gestures and often even frivolous ones, which only
conceal the threatening disintegration beneath the
surface of this society. But MacNeice is not really
pessimistic. If he eXperiences disappointment he
is never cynical; he never loses sight of the true
aim. It is his profound belief in the nobility of
mankind that reassures him that something can be
salvaged from this squalor and ignorance. MacNeice's
deep confidence is more positive than Spender's
forgiving compassion, more human than Auden's cool
dissection and at the end of his poem entitled
Plurality, NacNeice puts forward a personal credo as

moving and honest as any lines written in this decade.

369

It is the finest eXposition of the rationalist
position of the humanist faith. He believes that
"If man is a mere mirror of God, the gods collapse."
Man exists only in "striving towards perfection."

Man is man because he might have been a beast

And is not what he was and feels himself increased,
Man is man in as much as he is not god and yet
Hankers to see and touch the pantheon and forget
The means within the end and man is truly man

In that he would transcend and flout the human
Span:

A Species become rich by seeing things as wrong
And patching them, to which I am proud that I
belong.

fan is surely mad with discontent, he is hurled

Pv lovely hOpes or bad dreams against the world,
Raising a frail scaffold in the never-ending

flux, . .

Stubbornly when baffled fumbling the stubborn crux
And so he must continue, raiding the abyss

With aching bone and sinew, conscious of things
amiss,

Conscious of guilt and vast inadequacy and the sick
Ego and the broken past and the block that goes

too quick,

Conscious of waste of labour, conscious of Spite
and hate,

Of dissension with his neighbour, of beggars at
the gate,

But conscious also of love and the joy of things

and the power

Of going beyond and above the limits of the

lagging hour,

Conscious of sunlight, conscious of death's in-

véggling touch,

Not completely conscious but partly-and that is much.
(Plant Egg_Phantom), pp.79-80.

This is one of the most powerful and heroic declara-

tions of faith in man that I know. At first the long
twelve syllable line stumbles a little awkwardly, the

short, rather repetitive phrases fail to slide tidily

370

into the rhythmic structure, but soon the theme takes
hold and the lines end with a sinewy and powerful
rhetoric. The poet's faith is centered in man; man
as man, not as an animal or a divine soul pggg
psychologists and theologians. Man is not god and
yet he aSpires to the status of god, refusing to
accept the limitations of his nature, seeking always
to "transcend and flout the human Span." Always the
stress is on achievement without which man "might
have been a beast." Both the decision and the achieve-
ment belong to man who seeks always an unobtainable
perfection and it is partially achieved by "patching";
a word that avoids any suggestion of remaking the
world to man's better convenience, but rather shows
the sane, pragmatic approach of a rational being.
Divided between "lovely hopes" and the omnipresent
"bad dreams" he struggles against an alien and often
threatening universe. The struggle is the one thing
that is everlasting, the fight against the flux,
seeking to establish a brief assurance in Spite of
"aching bone" and the certainty that things are
"amiss." The next lines seem the core of this poem,
the rhythm develops a taut lilt and the meaning ex-

hibits that complexity of compression which marks the

371

most significant poetry.

Conscious of guilt and vast inadequacy and the sick

Ego and the broken past and the clock that goes

too quick.
These flat, blunt words recall Hamlet's similar tragic
analysis, "The pangs of despised love, the law's
delay." There is the same grappling with the essential
tragedy of man's existence. Man faces the flux
conscious of the guilt for his failure and incompe-
tence, ashamed of the past, and fearful that the end
will come before he can redeem his impotence by
further patching. But there are other eXperienceS
that conflict with this deSpair. There is love to
counter the "dissension with his neighbour." There
is joy in the moments of achievement when successful
man feels the wonder of briefly "going beyond and
above the limits." There is the sense of beauty and
fertility implied in the word "sunlight." These
lines are clearly not tragic, they are profoundly
Optimistic, yet this optimism is in no way facile.
There has been an honesty in the tragic analysis: now
comes the confident assertion of the true liberal who
sees glory in man's search for an unattainable per-
fection. There is a final ironic twist of triumph.
Man is "not completely conscious." Admit that fact,

let the sociologists, the psychologists and the

372
theologians bemoan the fallibility and weakness of
man, but MacNeice answers them with the understated
but confident assurance that man is ”partly” conscious
and this is much. It is the recognition of Just what
glory that ”partly” can incorporate that is the
triumph of hacNeice's belief. It stresses the posi-
tive greatness of man's ppotential the more powerfully
because it so openly admits the limitations. The
post here makes one Join gladly in his assertion that.
man is a species ”to which I am proud that I belong.”
MacNeice knows too that such an Optimistic view.
of man must be the basiemr a valid belief in the
possibility of social change, otherwise the attempt
t0 Promote sociallJustice cAn only be the merest
palliative. Only with such hOpe cannsn answer the
crude attacks of those who assume the inevitability
of man's failure without the omniscient leader or
some supra-human guidance. MacNeice is one of this
idealistic group and he points out the strength of the
beliefs he holds.
These are the people who know in their bones the
3382:: statesman's quiz and the false reformers'
crude
Alternatives and ultimatums. These have eyes
And can see each other's goodness do not need

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373

Being incurably human, these are the catalytics

To break the inhuman into humanity; these are

The voices whose words, whether in code or in clear,

Are to the point and can be received apart from

The buzz of jargon. (Collected Poems), p 276.
This is a plea for human love more rational and just
as intense as Auden's famous "We must love one another
or die." MacNeice sets the instinctive goodness of
intelligent men against all the "crude alternatives"
presented by the selfoappointed redeemers. Enlightened
men can find their own salvation without the whip of
the secret police, the brochures of the religious
cranks, and the politicians or the drugs of the brave
new world scientists. Their importance, however, is
not in their own solution, but that they are catalysts,
able to strengthen and carry to others their human
conviction. Their words (clearly MacNeice is now
thinking of the poets of his time) stand apart from
"the buzz of jargon" which afflicts every ear. Their
words are clear and honest and they are as fine and
relevent as they were in the nineteen thirties,
because our humanity is more wantonly abused now than
MacNeice at his most pessimistic could have conceived.

MacNeice saw clearly that the greatest threat
in his time was the dehumanisation of man. To him

uniformity and the denial of man's Spirit was a greater

threat than the temporary chaos of the economic failure

374

of these years. In one of MacNeice's most famous
poems, Prayer Before Birth, he eXplores the yearnings
of the human soul for liberation and self-fulfillment.
He speaks through the thoughts of an unborn infant.
The child understands the nature of the world into
which he is going to be born, and already he perceives
the need for consolation.
I am not yet born, console me.
I fear that the human race may with tall walls wall me,
with strong drugs dope me, with wise lies
lure me
on black racks rack me, in blood baths roll me.
(§pringboard), p.13.
The threats are the same as those in the previous poem,
violations of the human soul by drugs, lies or violence
by scientists, propagandists and secret police. Here
there is less assurance, rather an anxious appeal for
consolation. There is also the knowledge of his in-
escapable guilt, a guilt that is certain without his

own volition:

I am not yet born; forgive me
For the sins that in me the world shall commit.

The world he faces is an Oppressive one in which all
the things in it, and all the other people, seem aimed
only at destroying that single Spark which is the
essential of life, and yet will set him apart from the

conforming and satisfied mass.

375

I am not yet born; rehearse me

In the parts I must play and the cues I must take when
old men lecture me, bureaucrats hector me,
mountains frown at me, lovers laugh at me, the
white waves call me to folly and the desert calls
me to doom and the beggar refuses
my gift and my children curse me.

(W), Po 13o

Even the world and the elements implied by "waves” and
the'hesert" are antagonistic. Those who most need the
idealism which he perceives, who are "beggars” for a
life of greater significance, they will reject the truth
which he offers them, scorning the solution he has formu-
lated. With pessimistic presciencs he also knows the
next generation will also reject him. MacNeice may
be recalling his own rejection of his family background
or simply observing the common swing of the pendulum
between generations. He could not have been more
accurate as we observe the new conservatism and ortho-
doxy of youth which rejects out of hand the old-fashioned
idealism of MacNeice's generation in favor of more positive
and pragmatic dogmas. Again the unborn child begs to
escape from those who believe human beings are more or
less than man. Those who consider man an animal to be
led or exploited, and those who believe themselves
divinely inspired are both fatal threats.

I am not yet born; 0 hear me,

Let not the man who is beast or who thinks he
is God come near me.

376

The horror and fear is strong, and it is above all
caused by the possibility that these powerful forces
can reduce him to their own empty condition. The
last verse develops a rhetoric which, with confident
power, exposes the constant dangers:
I am not yet born; 0 fill me
With strength against those who would freeze my
humanity, would dragoon me into a lethal
automaton,
would make me a cog in a machine, a thing with
one face, a thing, and against all those
who would dissipate my entirety, would
blow me like thistle down hither and
thither or hither and thither

like water held in the
hands would spill me.

(Spriggboagg). p. 14.
Let them not make me a stone and let them not spill
Otherwise kill me. me.
This is an appeal for strength to resist the multiple
pressures of the society into which he will be born.
There is only one danger but it shows itself in several
guises: it is the danger that he may lose humanity and
identity. He fears shows all the threat that he may
become an automaton: a single measureable quantity
in the social sciences, a statistic to the state, a
hand to the employer, "a cog in a machine,“ anything but
a man. The'freeze" is set against the common descrip-

tions of humanity as warm with humane affection.

There is further realization that this danger to

{‘I

 

377

himself is equally a danger to all others for the
automaton is "lethal." Take away the human Spirit

and a monster is created devoid of the qualities that

d-

a tempt to control the innate destructiveness and

savagery of man. This monster is non-human, that is
why MacNeice describes it as "a thigg_with one face."
This phrase conjures up the memory of the set, empty
eXpressions of those rows of cold, undifferentiated
faces under the steel helmets of men who have only

one face; the compassionless unmoving empression of
blind obedience to a monolithic state. They have been
drilled to such eXpressionless automate that even
killing can be performed without anger, and without
compassion. The tension seems slightly dissipated

by the next two images. They both suggest inconse-
quent loss, the dispersal of thistledown and the
trickling of water, but they seem to add little to

the positive passion of the earlier lines and all those
hithers and thithers seem to suggest a certain groping.
But the last lines reiterate the essential theme and
sum up the assertion made by this poem. He chooses to
die rather than be the unfeeling stone to which so
many aSpects of contemporary life threaten to reduce

him. The ending appears a little blunt in spite of

the obvious passion of the last line, but the important

378
thing about this poem is the degree to which it is a
positive statement. The fears, so accurately deline-
ated, become warnings and the implications allow one
to see very clearly the reverse virtues that need
constant assertion in the face of assault.

His horror in this poem has appeared to be an
emotional one, but MacNeice is fundamentally an
intellectual and he perceives the obligation of those
who see the truths to proclaim them to an apathetic
population. They too accept a monotonous round of
misleading pretension; of gourmet living and etiolated
scholarship. The are prepared

to stand in queues

For entertainment, and to work at desks

To browse round the counters of dead books, to pore

On picture catalogues and Soho menus

To preen ourselves and the reinterpretation

Of the words of obsolete interpreters,
Oollate, delete, their faded lives like texts.

(Egrth Compels). P. 33.

He also sees that it is often the intellectuals who
fail to maintain the validity of truth, preferring the
pose of indifference and disinterest at the disintegra-
tion around them. Lngrily he points to the contemporary
scene:

Here where tourist values are the only

Values, where we pretend

That eating and drinking are more important than
thinking

.‘l

379

The looking at things than action and a casual friend
Than a collegue and that work is a dull convenience
Endured to provide
Money to be Spent on amusement.

(Autumn Journal), p.87.

 

There is little imagery in these lines, but how well
does MacNeice typify the foibles and poses of the
intellectuals: that strange world of cynicism and
pretence that is a pose to conceal the knowledge of
alienation from a world that casually rejects the
values that the intellectual must admire. But the
pose angers MacNeice because it is these intellec-
tuals who should lead the faceless men, who in bored
apathy become mere statistics.

There are only too many who say, 'What difference

does it make

One way or the other?

To turn the street of history will take

More than a by—election.’ (Autumn Journal), p.55.
"What difference does it make." These are the words
that have always baffled the arguments of the reformers.
The present day nuclear disarmament groups discover
precisely the same reason for indifference. But
MacNeice had a voice and a pen to beg that a choice
be made in defense of much abused and ridiculed
democracy. It is pointless to deny its cumbersome
faults, but it is even more irportant to realize its

virtues if its system is set against the totalitarian

regimes that at this time were dominating Europe.

380

Remembering that this crude and so-called obsolete
Tap-heavy, tedious parliamentary system

Is our only readyveapon to defeat

The legion s evils and the victor'e axes.

(Autumn Jgurnal), p. 55.

I do not know whether the apparent pun in "axes“ re-
called the Hitler-Mussolini "axis” is intentional,
nor whether "legions" has any specific Roman and
therefore Italian reference; these are minor issues.
Day Lewis' vague condemnation when he writes of fighting
for ”the bad against the worse“ is here reduced to
specific assertion. MacNeice was less impressed by
the Communist solution than most of his contemporaries,
seeing that Communism offered only a different dicta-
torship rather than a true solution. With a kind
of cocktail party irony of tone he begs them consider,

But before you proclaim the millenium, my dear,

Consult the barometer--

This poise is perfect but maintained

For one day only. (22£2£)9 p. 38.
This snide, bitchy comment might be remembered in the
context of Day Lewis' embarrassing line, “Why do we
seeing a Red feel small?"8 For MaoNeice the problem

was a deeper one than mere dialectics. If he seemed

to accept the inevitable fact that some measure of

 

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381

socialism was needed to overcome the misery he had
witnessed in Birmingham and Glasgow during the years
of unemployment, in such a poem as Prayer Before @1332.
and otherssimilar in subject, he exposes his doubt
that any social change can promise immediate relief
from the pressures that destroy humanity.

During the latter part of the thirties the threats
were obvious. Life appeared to be lived tensely
against the imminent threat of eXplosion as if a
time bomb were ticking away the days of their genera-
tion. Seeking an escape in human contact MacNeice
appeals,

If you were only here

Among these rocks

I should not feel the dull

That taut and ticking fear

That hides in all the clocks

And creeps inside the skull. (Eggth Compels,) p.12.
The Fascist ddictatorships were increasing in power
and defiance in EurOpe. The inevitable point of war
was coming daily nearer and MacNeice was among the
first to hear,

he nightmare noise of the scythe upon the hone

Time sharpenin his blade among the high rocks
alone. (Poems , p.103.

The strong vowels and the repeated "s" sound give a
verbal onomatopoeic background to this image. The

vision seems more intense and original than one would

382

consider possible with such a conventional figure as
Time the Reaper. Somehow that vision of the lone
figure and the calm preparation for killing makes
the impact much fiercer than a memory of the night-
shirted figure in New Year cartoons would give one
to imagine. The impending violence is already near
and death is imminent, and with a change of vieWpoint
MacNeice sees present actuality,

The face that fate hangs as a figure head

Above the truncheon or the nickelled death.

(Epgmg). p 103.

The idea of death has been tranSposed from the
allegorical figure remote in the rocks, to the "face"
that is near enough to inflict it by heating or bullet.
There is probably a more definite meaning. The asso-
ciation is with death at the hands of the Gestapo,
because, besides the obvious reference to brutality
and shooting, the "nickelled death" may be the skull
emblem which was on the front of the caps of the
secret police. In these two pairs of lines MacNeice
has embraced the idea of death as both a general threat
and an immediate danger. With deSpair he sees the
politicians "arguing for peace while zero-hour
approaches." In Postscript thIceland he writes to

w. n. Auden "who has felt the death wish too." The

383

(rhyming couplet has a jaunty defiance,

Still I drink your health before
The gun butt raps upon the door. (Earth Compels), p 10.

Again in a mood far more resigned, he writes,
Our freedom as free lances
Advances towards its end;
The earth compels, upon it
Sonnets and birds descend;

And soon my friend,
We shall have no time for dances.

(Earth Compels), p 63.

In another verse of this poem, The Sunlight gg_the
Garden, he develops the same mood of approaching
disaster with an image of intense visual beauty.

The sunlight on the garden

Hardens and grows cold,

We cannot cage the minute

Within its nets of gold,

When all is told

We cannot beg for pardon. (Earth compels), p 10.
The meaning here is incorporated in a description of
intense accuracy. The long lines of the sun's rays
are apparently static and the idea of "hardens" to
stress the lack of change is carried forward into the
word "cold." The hardening seems a kind of freezing
as the sun's power is withdrawn. The hardened beams
then remind him of bars, and the image is extended
to a cage in which one tries to hold an animal that
threatens to escape. Now it is time that is slipping
away, and the image is extended once more. It is

altered yet clearly connected visually toNthe patterns

of the sun's beams. Now the cage has become a net,

384

its light strings shaped by the sun's rays and again
suggesting the possibility of retaining time, even
while the moving sun is indicating its transience.
Then with an uneXpected twist the idea is linked
back to their own sense of guilt and doubt, and there
is the painful assertion that "We cannot beg for
pardon." The knowledge that they cannot be pardoned
is the realization of their failure and the: folly
of their times. MacNeice makes the firm assertion
of the truth that they have got to take their medi-
cine.

At this hour of the day it's no good saying

Take away this oup

Having helped to fill it ourselves it is only logic

That now we should drink it up.

(Autumn Journal), p 24.

The contrast between "take away this cup" which
recalls the Passion and has associations with Christ's
death, and the cheerful "drink it up" of a mother to
a child over nasty medicine makes a contrast of ex-
tremes which suggests the mixture of historical
pessimism and personal petulence that the poets must
have felt at this time.

But anchuris and Abyssinia were geographically

remote and conscience was less affronted by the

Rhineland occupation which broke a treaty rather than a

385
principle. It was Spain that brought the issues of
the inter-war years into the clearest focus. MacNeice
had visited Spain just before the war. In Eclogue

from Iceland he recalls the scenes his tourist eye

 

had witnessed. He describes how,

This Easter I was in Spain before the Civil War

Gobbling the trippers' treats, the local colour

Storks on Avila, the coffee- coloured waters of Honda

The comedy of bootblacks in the cafes

The legless beggars in the corridors of the trains

Dominos on marble tables. (Letters from Iceland)
(New York, l937) p 156.

This is merely the surface observation of the tourist,
and although he did notice "the scrawled hammer and
sickle" he was there as a visitor and a writer at
that, and to him at this time, "It was all COpy,
impenetrable surface, I did not look for the sneer

..9

beneath the surface. But the impression was much

less superficial than he pretends, and when he invokes
the scene again in his Autumn Journal he demonstrates
the impact that has been made.

And I remember Spain

At Easter ripe as an egg for revolt and ruin....

With writings on the walls--

Hammer and sickle, Boicot, Viva, Muerra.
(Autumn Journal), p 26.

 

9 Earth Compels, p. 31.

386

He remembers the signs of corruption and poverty on
every side which were to forment the revolt. He saw
the scene

With slovenly soldiers, nuns

And peeling posters from the last elections

Promising bread or guns

Or an amnesty or another

Order or else the old

Glory veneered and varnished

As if veneer could hold

The rotten guts and crumbled bones together

And a vulture hung in the air.

(Autumn Journal) p. 27.

MacNeice stresses two factors, the lack of order and
the threat of violence. The deliberate contrast
between bread and guns, the sarcastic weariness im-
plied by "another order" suggest rather that MacNeice
himself saw only confusion rather than sides being
drawn up for battle. This impression is emphasized
by the reference to "rotten guts and crumbled bones."
It is obvious,if superficial, to point out the contrast
between contemporary Spain and her sixteenth century
glory. Although he is aware of the symbolism of that
hovering vulture which will pick over the bones of
war-ravaged Spain, he seems to ignore the implication
of the threat. If he at the time saw only "varnish

and veneer," he was going to find such a surface view

unsatisfactory when the issues were made more clear.

 

III I
l.l lull-Ill.

{ill

‘1'

387

But, as he reiterates, he was a tourist and was pre-
pared to accept tourist values, a habit he earlier
had roundly condemned in others. So he left Spain
with no apparent commitment:

And next day we took the boat

For home, forgetting Spain, not realizing

That Spain would soon denote

Our grief, our eanperation,

Not knowing that our blunt

Ideals would find their Whetstone, that our spirit

Would find its frontier on the Spanish front

Its body in a rag-tag army. (Autumn Journal) p 29.
In these lines MacNeice now indicates the true
feeling about Spain that was held by so many idealists.
Forgetting his previous tourist views he sees its new
intense aymbolism. Spain will sharpen the "blunt
ideals" of their vision of England. All the condemna—
tions they made of England's lethargy and corruption
were now focussed on the struggle there, where
liberalism and justice seemed on trial. The frontier
of the Spirit, suggesting the limits of human advance,
the dividing line against hostile foes, was drawn up
in Spain. Along this frontier the International
Brigade was to defend EurOpean liberalism. One
notices now the calm intensity with which MacNeice
writes of the issue. In Spain, he knows that the
"ideals" are shocked by the Spanish revolt, the spirit

is moved to consider action, the "body" intercedes to

388

translate the Spirit's determination into fighting.

Later in his Autumanournal he describes the

 

fighting and praises the heroism that defended the
Republic.

For here and now the new valkyries ride
The Spanish constellations

As over the Plaza Cataluna
Orion 10113 on his side;

Droning over from Majorca
To maim or blind or kill

The bearers of the living will,
The stubborn heirs of freedom

Whose matter-of—fact faith and courage shame
Our niggling equivocations--

We who play for safety,
A safety only in name.

Whereas these peeple contain truth, whatever
Their nominal facade.

Listen: a whirr, a challenge, an aubade--
It is the cock crowing in Barcelona.

(Autumn Journal) p 92.

The events are seen here at two levels not eSpecially
convincingly contrasted. There is the level of the
battles of the gods, valkyries and constellations
suggesting cosmic struggles, and there is the more
prosaic level of that "matter-of—fact faith." The
valkyries are German but the bombers are of course
Italian. They fly from the island of Majorca, which
had been exacted from France as part of the price for
Mussolini's assistance. Somehow the rhetoric of the
middle lines although flat seems successful though

one instinctively begins by distrusting those journalist

389
phrases "the bearers of the living will" and "the
stubborn heirs of freedom." Perhaps it is because
MacNeice is so manifestly sincere that we almost accept
these phrases at his own valuation of their quality.
The short colloquial sentences may be effective simply
because one might distrust a more conscious and
successful rhetoric, and his Spare lines eXpress
faithfully the idealism that attached to the Spanish
Republican tr00ps. 1‘he last two lines are compressed
almost to the point of confusion. We are asked to
listen to a whirr. Presumably this is the noise of
the bombs or the bombers. These bombers are a challenge
to all EurOpe since they represent the military ex—
pansion of Fascism. At the same time they represent
a dawn because Spain symbolizes the beginning of what
will become a wider fight against dictators, and
Optimistically this dawn may suggest the end of their
dark powers. Or one might suggest simply that the new
aubade of this age is the droning of the approaching
bomber. This whirr also becomes a cock crowing.
The symbolism of betrayal is commonplace, though no
doubt the aubade and dawn elements are continued too.
I have struggled with this verse because it is an

important assertion of MacNeice's attitude to Spain

390
which links his feelings clearly to the ideas of the
other three poets, and yet I am aware that somehow
the whole thing just does not quite come off. There
is a deadness about it that no moral Justification
can quite revive.

Later in Autumn Journal he again describes Spain
during the war concentrating, on Barcelona which, even
more than Madrid, seemed to epitomize the heroism of
the Spanish struggle.

The shops are empty and in Barceloneta the eye-

Sockets of the houses are empty.
But still they manage to laugh
Though they have no eggs, no fish, no fruit, no
tobacco, no butter

Though they live upon lentils and sleep in the Metro,

Though the old order is gone and the golden calf
0f Catalan industry shattered;

The human values remain, purged in the fire,
And it appears that every man's desire

Is life rather than victuals ....

Here at least the soul has found its voice
Though not indeed by choice;

The cost was heavy. (Agtumn gggznal), pp.89-90.

Again one can only observe that somehow this poem

never gets off the ground. The indifference of the
rhythm and the awkward flatness of the tone lend a
heaviness to what is obviously an attempt at strained
sincerity. It is true that the long poem, Autumg Journal,
in which most of MacNeice's comments on Spain appear,

is a journal and therefore one has to eXpect a discur-
sive, colloquial, even pedestrian style, but one also

has the right to expect poetry. What is a reader to

 

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391
make of that absurd shopping-list of "victuals" in
the middle lines? Surely that cannot add any inten-
sity to the suffering. Even in the last three lines
with their vital call that "the soul has found its
voice," there is a glumness and a rhythmic deadness.
That "indeed" is as pompous as some of the worst 1914
war poetry.

Occasionally lines are rather more successful.
MacNeice repeats the image of the cock crowing again,
with greater firmness in the association:

And in the pauses of destruction

The cocks in the centre of the town crow.
The cocks crow in Barcelona
Where the clocks are few to strike the hour;
Is it the heart' s reville or the sour
Reproach of Simon Peter?
(Autumn Journal), p 90.
It seems to me that the lack of clocks, unless it
has some inexplicable symbolism, is merely a snippet
of information. But the last two lines ask the question
that was only implied in the previous usage. It may
represent the same awareness of betrayal that caused
Peter such agony, or it may be the clarion call to
rouse the democracies to action. But no answer is
offered. Rather hastily MacNeice changes the subject,
finding this, "Time for resolutions, for stock-taking."

Yet if his approach seems less incisive than that of his

contemporaries, he saw the issues with sharp accuracy.

392

Down in Europe Seville fell,
Nations germinating hell. (Poems), p 113.

The word "germinating"

is significant here, for
besides its ironically accidental hint of "German"
it asserts that Spain is a beginning. This war is
not the fruition of the EurOpean horror but a seed,
the cause of world catastrophe.

In contrast to the other poets whose work I
have considered MacNeice wrote little about Spain,
and his concern though genuine appears a little pre-
occupied. There seems no obvious eXplanation for
this fact, but it did at least permit MacNeice a
more balanced perSpective as he viewed subsequent
EurOpean events. By avoiding an emotional over-
inflation of the issues he could reSpond to those
anxious months of crisis in 1938 and 1939 with less
sense of indifference, and with the same integrity
that he had demonstrated when observing the scene
in England in the previous few years.

In 1938 during those strained summer months
before the Munich agreement he saw the hectic, hap-
hazard war preparations, of the "blackout practice
and A. R. P., the newSpaper boys driving a roaring
business." Beneath this excitement and apparent

determination he also saw the subterfuge, the anxious

393

yearning for peace at any price, the desire to "save
my skin and damn my conscience." This knowledge leads
to the following sarcastic lines:

And negotiation wins,

If you can call it winning,

And here we are--just as before-~safe in our skins;

Glory to God for Munich.

And stocks go up and wrecks

Are salved and politicians' reputations

Go up like Jack-on—the-Beafitalk; only the Czechs

Go down without fighting. (Autumn Journal), p 36.
Many people asked nothing more of the Munich conference
than that it leave them "just as before, safe,"
rather than bombed into oblivion, but as MacNeice
uses the phrase there is a heavy sarcasm directed at
those who have chosen such temporary convenience
rather than the path of moral reSponsibility. This
tone is doubly clear from the mock-pious "Glory to
God." Once the decision is made to jettison the
Czechs all appears satisfactory, stocks and reputa-
tions go up. The "salved" seems to be an abbreviated
form of "salvaged" but includes the meaning of applying
healing balm which suggests the cuts and grazes that
the politicians have suffered are only skin deep.
There is also the neat association with the fairy
story. Jack's snatching of the golden goose from

under the giant's very nose is compared with Chamberlain's

quick snatching of peace from the dictators.

394

unfortunately when these fast growing reputations
were cut down the giant did not obligingly fall with
them. The sarcastic twist at the end is typical of
MacNeice. After the pretense at shallow optimism he
turns with the bitter comment that "only the Czechs
go down."
Later with less sarcasm and more balanced con-
cern, he tries to investigate his own emotions as
he eXperiences that overwhelming sense of relief at
the unexpected escape from what appeared to be the
inevitable debacle.
Now we are back to normal, now the mind is-
Back to the even tenor of the usual day
Skidding no longer across the uneasy camber
Of the nightmare way.
We are safe though others have crashed the railings
Over the river ravine; their wheel tracks carve
the bank
But after the event all we can do is argue
And count the widening ripples where they sank.
(Autumn Journal) P 37.
The whole emotion is reduced to the violent road
accident; this metaphor is developed throughout these
lines. The potential violence of the nightmare skid
evaporates to the safe curiosity in the face of
others' disaster. There has to be a comfortable
sense of relief that they at least have avoided the

crash over the railings along the ravine where danger

was always near. The crash is over, the Czechs are

395

destroyed but for those who witnessed their destruc-
tion from the safety of England there remains only
argument; the vehement discussion of what might have
been, and finally the rather detached observation of
the scene. The "widening ripples" indicate the con-
tinuing and Spreading impact of this crash on European
events.

But the important realization that Munich brought
to MacNeice was an understanding which many of his
contemporaries had shown during the Spanish fighting,
that at some point the decision to take military
action was necessary. until the Spanish war this
generation of intellectuals had generally been rather
cynically pacifist. The memories of the follies of
the trench campaigns of the previous war were fresh;
so was the evidence of the failure of that costly
war to achieve anything. The obvious lies about.

"the war to end war,"

and the cynical failure to
create "the land fit for heroes to live in," had
created a mood of indifference and the determination
not to be sold again on such lies. MacNeice now saw
the necessity of a change of heart. In the following
lines he describes his new belief and the awkward-

ness of the rhyme seems to underline the strain in

396

finding this new position.

And we who have been brought up to think of

"Gallant Belgium"

As so much blague

Are now preparing again to essay good through evil

For the sake of Prague. (Autumn Journal), p 32..
The change of view that led them after deepising the
myth of "gallant Belgium" to consider fighting again,

this time for "gallant Prague,"

is part of an intel-
lectual revolution which these poets both eXperienced
and initiated. But that the decision is still a
little hesitant is indicated by the use of'preparing"

' neither of them very decisive or certain.

and "essay,'
There is still the understanding of the wickedness

of war; memories are not that short, and the doubts
include the speculation that even in such a cause the
chances of achieving "good through evil" are remote
and incalculable.

Other issues made calls upon his compassion. He
saw the refugees now streaming out of EurOpe and his
poem Refugees has none of the brash music-hall jingle
of Auden's poem on the same subject with its synOpated
reiteration of "But they're not German Jews my dear."
In MacNeice's poem the refugees have reached the

promised security of America. He sees them huddled

on the deck of the liner approaching New York.

397

With prune-dark eyes, thick lips, jostling each
other

These, disinterred from EurOpe, throng the deck

To watch their hope heave up in steel and concrete

Powerful but delicate as a swan's neck,

Thinking, each of them, the worst is over

And we do not want any more to be prominent or
rich,

Only to be ourselves, to be unmolested

And make ends meet-~an ideal surely which

Here if anywhere is feasible. “
(Plant and Phantom), p 64.

 

Escape is from the tomb that is EurOpe, as is clear
from the grim "disinterred" but the exchange of this
death for another hope is fraught with new difficulties.
Their new hopes must be represented in purely material
terms in the steel and concrete of docks and Manhattan
skyscrapers. There is a warning in the observation
that is more than vivid description. The hopes, like
the buildings, are powerful but also delicate and

may not offer the security they seek. They seek only
one boon, to be unacknowledged, to forget the racial
identification that has destroyed their lives in their
own countries. America, the land that has absorbed

so much deSpair and refection, surely can make this
modest yearning feasible. But America is a means

to a new life,not the ready-made solution for which

they hOpe. They must wait:

398
Till something or other turns up. Something-or-
other
Becomes an expected angel from the sky:
But do not trust the sky, the blue that looks
~so candid
Is non-committal, frigid as a harlot's eye.
Gangways--the handclasp of the land. The resurrected,
The brisk or resigned Lazaruses, who want
Another chance, go trOOping ashore, But chances

Are dubious. Fate is stingy, recalcitrant,
And officialdom greets them blankly.

(Zlant and Phantgm), p. 65.
Their hope is vague: it can only be that "something or

other turns up." In the repetition of this phrase
with the capital letters, the hope for some practi-
cal temporal assibtance becomes more remote and
exists only as the most nebulous desire for some
undefined deity to offer a little concern. This

hepe is eXpressly denied. The sky is compared to

the harlot outwardly so bright and attractive and
welcoming, but inside cold and grasping, demanding
harsh terms for every favor. The sky and God are~
non-committal at a time when so much suffering
demands moral commitment. The hint of disinterred

is continued in those resurrected "Lazaruses" but

the welcome to these liberated corpses is dubious and
stingy, and the longed for angel seems to be the
grudging customs official who paws over their luggage,

apparently resentful that it is "foreign-looking."

399

On this note the poem rather abruptly and unsatis-
fyingly ends. MacNeice, being unable to do more than
record his sympathy avoids the glib extremes of either
hope or deSpair. That "non-committal" sky remains
Just that and "stingy" fate does not deny all possi-
bility of some paucity of redemption. MacNeice's
concern has not precluded the most rigorous detach-
ment. .-

When war was declared in 1939, none of the
mature and major poets I am considering made much
attempt to translate the significance of this event
into their poetry. MacNeice wrote a few poems, only
two of which I find at all successful. In several
poems written at this time he falls back into the
stupid jingle that was such a tediously overworked
trick of this time. What can one say about verses
like these, not scribbled on the back of a menu, but
solemnly recorded in the Collected ngm§.of a con-
siderable writer.

I'm only a wartime working girl

The machine sh0p makes me deaf

I have no prOSpects after the war

And my young man is in the R. A. F.

(gpringboard,) p 27.
Even the simple jiggling rhythm breaks down in the
last line. Or consider the pointlessness of the

stupid parody sung to the old children's tune, "Nuts

in May."

400

May came up with Very lights,

May came up with duty,

May came up with a bouncing cheque,

An acid drop and a bandage. (§pringboard), p 31.

In a more conventional vein, but with greater
success, MacNeice describes the movement of the
convoy in firm, if slightly flat, description. The _
poem is called Convoy.

Together, keeping in line, slow as if hypnotized

Across the blackboard sea in sombre echelon

The food ships draw their wakes. No Euclid

could have devised
Neater means to a more essential end--
Unless the chalk breaks off, the convoy is
surprised. (Springboard), p 24.

The point of this scene is made by combining the
actual ships with the same convoy drawn on the maps
of the naval shore headquarters. The two elements
run parallel meeting in the description of black-
board sea, which besides its appropriateness to the
flat appearance and gray-black color of the North
Atlantic, describes the chart on which the convoy's
progress is plotted. Also there is the subsidiary
memory of the classroom maths of MacNeice's boyhood
recalled by the triangular shape of the widening
ship's wash. The break off has the same double
reference. The white wake of the ship abruptly

ceases, and on the H. Q,board the chalk line that

marks the ship's progress is terminated. The dual

401

levels of this idea mesh together linking event and
planning in a clever if contrived manner.

In a similar manner MacNeice deve10ps a single
image to describe the fires caused by the bombing of
London.

When our brother Fire was having his dog's day

Jumping the London streets with millions of

tin cans

Blanking at his tail, we heard some shadows say

"Give the dog a bone"---and so we gave him ours;

Night after night we watched him slaver and

crunch away

The beams of human life, the tOps of tOpless

towers. (gpringboard), p 18.
These lines from Brother Fire seem considerably less
effective, from the phony Franciscan title onwards.
The main reason for the whole metaphor seems to be
a deveIOpment from the casual use of the idiom "dog's
day." Slavering and crunching can apply to both the
burning and the dog gnawing, but I do not think that
the comparison adds much elucidation to the descrip-
tion. The paradoxical "t0ps of topless towers" may
echo Marlowe but it seems only to add to the lack of
precision.

More successful are two poems Bottleneck and

The Conscript which are both more personal. The first

 

concerns the intellectual who faces that dilemma
peculiar to his nature, that action can only be

undertaken if the most rigorous theoretical conditions

402
are met. His principles are clear.

Never to fight unless from a pure motive

And for a clear end was his unwritten rule

Who had been in books and visions to a pro-
gressive school

And dreamt of barricades, yet being observant

Knew that that was not the way things are:

This man would never make a soldier or a servant.

(Springboard), p. 28.
Here is the apex of impractical idealism for this age,
the desire for a "pure motive" that reduces the choices
to the simplicity of black and white. Not for this
arrogant intellect Day Lewis' sad but more honest
understanding that it is often necessary to "defend
the bad against the worse." Here is the mind of
the idealistic revolutionary whose visions are of
"barricades" with their dated but optimistic asso-
ciations of nineteenth century spontaneous risings.
Such foolish ideals can have no place in the fighting
now. let this intellectual discovery is not a happy
one. The direct order, that the intellectual is
often too self-conscious to feel, seems a desirable
simplicity, to be envied even while it is superiorly
despised. MacNeice watches this man at the harbor.
When I saw him last, carving the longshore mist
With an ascetic profile, he was standing
Watching the troOpship leave, he did not speak
But from his eyes there peered a furtive, foot-
sore envy

Of those who sailed away to make an opposed landing--
So calm because so young, so lethal because so meek.

(Springboagd), p. 28.

 

 

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403

The intellectual has refused such service but his
emotion is "a furtive, footsore envy." That the envy'
must be furtive is clear: such unthinking sacrifice
cannot be rationally accepted,but that "footsore"
brings a number of unusual associations. The envy
is not something fresh and Open, it is a grubby
tired thing because the emotion is resented and
shameful. The journey to this feeling of envy is
reached only after a tedious struggle along the route
assailed by every intellectual argument that can be
thrown against its irrational appeal. Then there
are the paradoxes of the last line in which the con-
trast is made between the intellectual who is neither
young nor meek, and will never share this dedication
of service. MacNeice continues to meditate on this
figure:

Where he is now I could not say; he will,

The odds are, always be non-combatant

Being too violent in his soul; to kill

Anyone but himself, yet in his mind

A crowd of odd components mutter and press

For compromise with fact, longing to be combined

Into a working whole but cannot jostle through

The permanent bottleneck of his highmindednnsss.

(§pringboard), p 28.

Again there is the paradox. The young soldiers were
"lethal because so meek," the intellectual is "too

violent...to kill." His ruthlessness is purely a

mental decision as different from actual action as

404

the world is from his vision. He knows that his

view of the world is'hot the way things are," and he
seeks an impossible synthesis of his ideals and reality.
His mind is full of "odd components" which can never
form a machine that will allow the intellectual to

act in practical ways. The "mutter and press"
5

suggest
the anxious turmoil in the mind,the jostling to form
a shape that will fit "through the permanent bottle-
neck." The phrase (which was virtually a war-time
joke) is half humorous, pointing ironically at his
failure. The awkward rhythm, suggesting the jostling
struggle, reinforces this feeling. The tone is a
little more difficult to analyze. There is some
mockery at the incapacity, some sadness and eanpera-
tion, but no single emotion. MacNeice, was enough
of an intellectual himself to know that this rather
absurd figure was one part of his own sensibility.
This analysis becomes also an explanation, for many
of his contemporaries had fallen into this trapped
pose.

With greater sympathy MacNeice describes the
young conscript, his youth setting so oddly against

his present training. He speculates on the importance

that falls onto such a youth.

405

Being so young he feels the weight of history
Like clay around his boots, he would, if he could, fly
In search of a future like a sycamore seed
But is prevented by his own Necessity,
His own yet alien, which, whatever he may plead,
To every question gives the same reply.
(§pringboard), p 30.
The effect of historical event which has called him
to this training weighs upon the young man. He dreams
of escaping to the future, and it is clear that this
implies both immediate escape into a world more
attractive than this present one of military training,
and to a future which is freed from the pressures of
history. He seeks a life that is not subjected to
the foolish decisions of past treaties which this
generation are forced to try to rectify. But the
simile for this leap into the future is the "sycamore
seed" and the implication is clear; if he can escape
from the weight of this history he might plant some
productive hOpe. This would develop into a more
positive thing than the destruction for which he is
now preparing. But the necessity which brings him
to this position is not only the "alien" pressure of
history but his own. This means more than that he is
a conscript, rather that he must accep the whole

inheritance of event that falls on everyone. To hOpe

to begin with a clean slate of history is even more

406

foolish than the intellectual's desire for the "pure
motive." For the conscript there is only one answer
whatever the question, and this, in Spite of his
pleading, demands the answer of action, reluctant and
on sufferance as it might be. This theme is reit-
erated in the next two stanzas.

Ohoiceless therefore, driven from pillar to post,

EXpiating his pedigree, fulfilling

An oracle whose returns grow less and less,

Bandied from camp to camp to practice killing

He fails even so at times to remain engrossed

And is aware, at times, of life's largesse.

From camp to camp, from Eocene to chalk,

He lives a paradox, lives in a groove

That runs dead straight to an ordained disaster

So that in two dimensions he must move

Like an automaton, yet his inward stalk

Vertically aspires and makes him his own master.

(§pringboard), p 30.

Although he is choiceless, his duty is also his own
necessity, and he must eXpiate his inheritance of
history fulfilling the doom prognosticated by the
oracles; perhaps the Casandra-like calls of the poets
of the inter-war era. Now the paradox of the first
stanza, the equal pull of history and future, is
madeeXplicit. The youth who ought to be allowed
hOpes of the future, his "sycamore seed," is like an
"inward stalk which vertically aspires." Yet such

hOpes are denied by the present fact and "stalk" and

"seed" with their suggestion of.a life force are

407

matched by the training that is making him an automa-
ton. His present route is clearly mapped; a dead
straight groove to disaster, a disaster that will
reject or destroy all the hOpes of "sycamore" fruitibng.
The conscript lives in two times and two dimensions.
One insists that he can only be present automaton,
the other encourages the idea that he might be "his
own master." MacNeice sums: up this painful contrast
that coexists in the life of this youth.

Hence, though on the flat his life has no

Promise of diminishing returns,

By feeling down and upwards he can divine

That dignity which far above him burns

In stars that yet are his and which below

Stands rooted like a dolmen in his spine.
(§p§ingboard), p 50.

 

_Although rooted by the clay around his boots he can
divine (the dual meaning here is very obvious) a
dignity which should be his; symbolized by the un-
touchable eternity of the stars. "Burns" must combine
the Sparkle of the star with the intensity of the
limitless human yearning which they here represent.
This humanity is too strong for drill and training

to destroy, too powerful for the temporary groove to
deny. It is rooted within him and all men. "Dolmen"
is a curious word, because although it means a pile
of stones which would suggest longlasting strength,

it usually marks a tomb, and one is left with this hint

408

in the last line, that although the general state-
ment is optimistic, for the individual this historical
disaster may bring death.

In this way MacNeice debated the human issues
that made the war such a disaster in its effects on
any idealistic philosophy. After the war he looked
back on his memories with the same sense of malaise
and concern. The years have slid by leaving a kind
of gap between the clear ideals of the thirties and
the muddled concern of the post-war world. He hesi-
tates, failing to find the certainty of vision that
will extract order from the multiple events. In a
poem called Newsreel he eXpresses this failure to
induce coherence.

Since Munich, what? A tangle of black film

Squirming like bait upon the floor of my mind

And scissors clicking daily. I am inclined

To pick these pictures now but will hold back

Till memory has elicited from this blind

Drama its threads of vision, the intrusions

Of value upon fact. (Springboard), p 53.

The almost incidental comparison between the length
of film and the wriggling of worms sticks in the
memory, but this is not the important aSpect. One
notes the determination to wait to allow the too great

commitment of this age to break before its eXperience

will be distilled into poetry. For some poets this

409

lapse is essential to create the detachment out of
which poetry constructs order. But commitment and
immediacy were always the essence of the writing of
the poets I am considering. Now at this crucial
political moment, the poet rather seeks withdrawal;
to step out of the stream of events. This decision
that might be unimportant or admirable in another
poet is a conscious denial of the whole line of
deveIOpment in the mouth of MacNeice. He did not wait
while memory supplied the pattern of the economic
failure of the previous decade. Now the issues
appear more complex, the certainty of the poet weakens
and retreats along a groove of history from which he
is no longer able to escape.
Even more uneXpectedly and definitely he appears
to reject the experience of the war. In a poem with
the revealingly eXplanatory title Hiatus he writes:
The years that did not count-~Civilians in the towns
Remained at the same age as in Nineteen-Thirty-Nine,
Saying last year, meaning the last of peace;
Yet eyes began to pucker, mouth to crease,
The hiatus was too packed with fears and frowns,
The would-be absent heart came forth a magnetic mine.
@235. 1.1.1. its. as). P 15
I do not think this is significant poetry in itself,
and the last line seems merely confusing, in spite

of the apparent suggestiveness of the symbolism. The

important thing is rather the attitude which finds the

410

war as "the years that did not count." MacNeice
apparently finds them a "hiatus" in his life. The
last verse is more important and equally revealing.

Yes, we wake stiff and older; eSpecially when

The schoolboys of the thirties reappear,

Fledged in the void, indubitably men,

Having kept vigil on the Unholy Mount

And found some dark and tentative things made

clear,
Some clear made dark, in the years that did not
count. (Holes ig_the Sky), p 15.

After the intervening lines of examination the re-
petition of the phrase "the years that did not count"
that brackets this poem has become increasingly
bitter. The boys who were scarcely old enough to
understand the historical inevitability of this war
were called upon to fight it and became men by doing
so. The "Mount" is obviously linked with Christ's
time of trial, but this one is an "Unholy Mount" of
war. While searching within themselves there, the
young soldiers found a clarity where previously
issues had been "dark". Perhaps this suggests the
result of the more confident action that MacNeice's
generation had avoided in their search for the "pure
motive." At the same time the war with its complexity
of moral decision and suffering darkened much of their

clear and certain faith. This comprehension and

develOpment were the product in youth, of "the years

411

that did not count."

It seems as if this consideration of the atti-
tude of a new generation and the discovery that his
contemporaries were no longer the eager vanguard of
a new revolution, caused MacNeice to look back over
the attempts he had made during the previous decade
with a sense of defeat. I have already suggested
the very dramatic way in which Day Lewis criticised
and all but repudiated the attitudes of his younger
years. MacNeice's reaction is similar though less
iconoclastic. His reSponse is more of reproof and
anxious eXplanation than condemnation. Nevertheless
it is important to see in his work at this time a
similar disappointment and dismay at the failure of
the idealism he had earlier denied himself so much to
embrace. From attacking others he turns to attack
himself. During the thirties his theme had been the
blame of others and the suffering of the peOple; now
the theme is his own failure and incompetence. His
criticism is aimed at both his ideas and his writing,
and if the result is less savagely denunciatory than
Day Lewis' similar verse, it is none the less clear
and firm.

Firstly he attempts to eXpress the difficulty

412

of the communication he is attempting.
How, yes how! To achieve in a world of flux
and bonfires
Something of art's coherence, in a world of
wind and hinges
An even approximate poise in a world of beds and
hunger
A fullness more than feeding a sieve.
(Plant and Phantom), p 87.
Here is an assertion of the difficulty of detachment
in a world of flux, and a world of appetites for sex
or food. Whether the bonfires are those of war which
destroys the traditions on which poetry survives or
refer to the actual bookburning and the political
destruction of poetry is not certain. After a half
lifetime of poetry aimed as he himself put it "raising
a frail scaffold in never-ending flux," and thirty
years of living through the complex and savage history
of the inter-war years, MacNeice begins to bemoan the
difficulty of maintaining poetic poise. It is true
that a desire to escape urban pressure sent him on
his voyage to Iceland which I discussed earlier, but
that was fifteen years before and now the concern
seems fresh and potent.
In the Elegy_For Minor Poets he is discussing a
broader aSpect of literary history, poets whose "books

are library flotsam/isome of their names--not all--

we learned at school." The poem was apparently written

413

towards the end of the war. The affectionate, slightly
whimsical tone suddenly gives place in the fifth verse
to a highly suggestive generalization which must,
calculatedly or not, be applicable to many of his
contemporaries, perhaps to himself. He is describing
those poets

Who were too carefree or careful, who were too many

Though were always few and alone, who went the pace

But ran in circles, who were lamed by fashion,

Who lived in the wrong time or the wrong place,

Who might have caught fire had only a spark

occurred,
Who knew all the words but failed to achieve the
Word. (Holes la the Sky), p 42.

If one provisionally assumes that this has some per-
sonal reference, one can see exactly the relevence of
the lines to the problems faced by Spender, Day Lewis
and MacNeice himself. "Lamed by fashion" is a pertinent
criticism of much of the trivial eXperiments into
which they were lured before finding their own true
voices. Spain must have been considered a Spark,
and yet the fire was fitful and finally petered out
without causing any poetic conflagration in the years
immediately afterwards. Their technical skill was
profound. The words that Auden used were an unmatch-
able fount of vocabulary and yet "the Word" was not

in them, except in sudden lines or verses where the

rich authentic power of poetry is seen to blaze.

414

The self-doubt appears justified to a degree
and MacNeice turns from poetic criticism to self-
criticism, seeming to find the root of failure in
his own nature as Day Lewis did. He had already felt
some sense of disaffection before the war:

Now I must make amends...

I have loved defeat and sloth,

The tawdry halo of the idle martyr;

I have thrown away the roots of will and con-

science,

Now I must look for both, ...

Soon or late the delights of self pity must pall

And the fun of cursing the wicked

World into which we were born.

(Autumn Journal), p 91.

This self-criticism is a very common mood obviously,
and the vices of sloth and the failure to act are
the usual ones to which an intellectual succumbs.
But the rather strange line about the "fun of curing
the wicked world" pokes ridicule at many of the
challenges to the social organization that were written
during the thirties. Many poems are belittled by
the suggestion that they were the result of either
self-pity or fun and MacNeice's mood stretches back
across his own works ridiculing their legitimate and
even noble indignation.

In 1953 MacNeice published a volume called
Autumn Seguel, as a sequel to his Autumn Journal of

fifteen years before. It is a rather long, discur-

sive poem which seems to lack the moments of intensity

415

and illumination that marked the original diary.
Although some sections appeared in magazines it was
primarily conceived for a radio reading.

In this poem, the themes of disconsolate dis-
covery and rejection that are found throughout his
later post-war verse, are brought together. At the
beginning, when he looks back across the decade and
a half that separates him from his earlier poem, he
announces his resentful dismissal:

Fifteen years—-and enough. Plain or pearled,
Chequered or lacquered, I do not want them again.
(Autumn Seguel), p 11.

The rejection is sufficiently profound and far
reaching that the mood stretches across both the past
and the future, to

Deaths we cannot mourn and loveless love affairs,
One waste of traffic jams, one jam of death.
(Autumn Sequel), p 43.

In the face of this mood the question he levies is
purely rhetorical, "Why should we/Still feel at times
inept, inert, afraid?" The answer is only too clear,
the future seems a torment measured against the
utopian hopes of the past,
tomorrow means
Return to London, that prosaic mould
In which our bright dreams cool. Tomorrow means

Our backward looking thoughts, snatches away
What few stray ears of corn our fancy gleans.

(Autumn Seguel), p 108.

416

MacNeice is held in a present he doubts, waiting for
a future he fears. If he hates the past for its
failure and folly at least though deSpairing he
asserts that there was some painful truth in that
decade, "a few stray ears."

Now along with the loss of hOpeS goes the loss
of youth, "the bright dreams cool" and he is forced
to see himself as he is at middle age.

Now I am long in the tooth and cannot bridle
My thrusting paunch or halt my thinning hair.

(Autumn Seguel), p 152.

At this lost moment he can only beg the new generation;

Pity us for the follies we have lost;

Pity us for our learning, who can count

In light years by the million, but not the cost
Of even a broken toy. (Autumn Sequel), p 134.

 

When his autumn diary approaches December and the
symbolic winter, there is only a frustrated and help-
less rage which is exposed as a human hate at the.
times'folly and delusion.

The news continues mad, the bigwigs trounce

Each other, Science in her armoured huts

Sharpens her claws and bides her time to pounce,

And pessimism whines and optimism abutts

On lunacy and works and days grow weary—-

Goodwill towards men my foot! I hate their guts;

Or lack of guts, corrupted by some theory.
(Autumn Seouel), p 141

The very tone here indicates just how much "works and

417

days grow weary" for MacNeice. The almost childish
petulance of the eXpletive "my foot" is matched by

the bored, ather than angry tone in the cliche, "I
hate their guts." This eXpression has come dangerously
close to the very pessimistic "whining" that he claims
to deplore.

Only for a moment does he reaffirm any of the
past position. The following lines seem just and
genuine in their assertion of the poet's spirit.

our Obiit

Cannot diaprove our skill, if we were skilled,

Our lives if we ever lived. On a grave as wide

As the world there is no need to carve or gild

An epitath; for neither time nor tide

Invalidates the lives and deaths of those

Who turned their cosmic guilt to cosmic pride.

(w 3122;), p 49.
Such lines seem honest and the hesitant "if" clauses
do not deny the positive assertion. MacNeice's gen-
eration did finally receive a grave "as wide as the
world" in a quite literal sense. Their world guilt
in the face of the frustration and defeat of the
thirties was transmuted by Spain into a wofiUipride.
The failure of their support for the Spanish Republic
does not prevent individual groups from feeling pride.

It is governments that must feel shame. But these

stanzas are only a moment in a book of some 160 pages,

418

and the overall tone is defeated. Youth and political
hope are equally denied, and the most optimistic mood
he can manage seems to be merely nostalgia. The
emotion of MacNeice at this period is virtually
identical to the tone adopted by Day Lewis in his
writing of this time. The close similarity of their
reSponses to the disappointment and doubt of the ten
years that followed the war, is indicative of the
pervading mood that their poetry both recorded and
exemplified.

In Aftermath also he eXplores the same sense of

 

disappointment:

Shuffle and cut, What was so large and one

Is now a pack of dog's eared chances-~Oh

Where is the fear that warmed us to the gun,

That moved the cock to tousle the night and crow

In gaps between the bombs.

(Holes ;g_the Sky), p 17.

At the beginning of his Collected Poems, NacNeice
offers as dedication an important new poem of intro-
Spection called 33 Hedli. He has reread with some
amazement the poems of his youth collected here;
seeing their confidence through more mature eyes.

He finds "those April answers had withered off their
Question." The question remains as powerful and

unchanging as the tree's trunk, Only the hOpeful

flush of blossom and leaf have died. He is astounded

419

by his confident youthful omniscience.

I stand here now dumbfounded by the volume

Of angry sound which pours from every turning

On those who only so lately knew the answers.
(Collected Poems), p 9.

 

Here he appears to be concerned at others' rejection
of ideals that once seemed to be "answers," but the
reference is not entirely clear until in two signifi-
cant stanzas he approaches the crux of the problem in
self-analysis.

At one time I was content if things would image

Themselves in their own dazzle, f the answers

Came quick and smooth and the great depth and
volume

Of the cold sea would wash me the chance present,

Bone or shell or message from some older

Castaway for whom there was no returning.

But now I am not content, the leaves are turning
And the gilt flaking from each private image

And all the poets I know, both younger and older,
Condemned to silence unless they divine the answers
Which our grim past has cached throughout our

present
And which are no more than groped for in this
volume. (Collected Poems), p 9.

 

The first stanza indicates the delight and satis-
faction he obtained from his early verse where the
"dazzle" of an image was its sufficient justifica-
tion. There is an implied criticism of answers which
come "quick and smooth," and the sense of tradition
appears to consist of snatching the occasional piece
of flotsam from the cold sea of the past. These

easy creations satisfied for a while but from his

420

present standpoint in the second stanza they are no
longer satisfying. "The gilt is flaking from each
private image" and the suggestion is of the thin
tawdry plating of pure gold over the base metal of
the image. The "leaves" refer back to those April
questions, besides any more general reference to
approaching age. The most definite assertion is
MacNeice's statement that "all the poets I know..

are condemned to silence unless they divine the
answers." These are hidden because of "our grim
past." This seems a direct assertion of both the
failure of the past whose images are now "flaking,"
and the impossibility of writing now, for the gen-
eration is "condemned to silence." Such a View is
totally pessimistic because it denies the possibility
of further "groping," the process that so legitimately
created the poems in this volume. He sees these
poems now as only "waifs and wraiths of image and
half-blind questions that still lack their answers."
The diffidence may be appropriate; that youth is
assertively over—confident is a truism, but the im—
portant thing is surely to continue to find the
questions worth asking, the tentative answers a valu-
able hypothesis. In these lines MacNeice sadly seems

to deny the possibility of both these things. Perhaps

421

such a feeling has no greater validity than a passing
mood, and if for MacNeice's generation there were no
answers perhaps their failure serves as a point of
beginning for other new and greater poets. This seems,
from an historical viewpoint, to have proved untrue,

and yet in the gentle sanctity of Prayer IEIMid-Passage

 

MacNeice begs for just such a result.

We were the past—-and doomed because

We were a past that never was;

Yet grant to men that they may climb

Ttis time-bound ladder out of time

And by our human organs we

Shall thus transcend humanity.
(Springboard), p 43.

 

He now can accept their failure. Perhaps their
interpretation was of "a past that never was," but
their failure carries within it the possibility for
others to transcend their own present.
With this slightly more cheerful hope MacNeice
is able to look at the poetic generation of which
he was a part, and he writes for them an epitath,
sincere and dignified in the face of much acknowledged
failure. The title is simply, Epitaph For Liberal
Poets. He begins with the question, what would they
wish the future to say of their efforts?
If in the latter
End-~which is fairly soon—-our way of life goes west,
And some shall say So What, and some What Matter,
Ready under new names to eXploit or be ex ted,
What though better unsaid, would we have istory say

Of us who walked in our sleep and died on our Quest?
(Springboard). p 39

422

The cliche of "our way of life" and the colloouial
"goes west" and "so what" indicate the attempt the
poet is making at a deliberate lightness, as if to
eliminate part of the almost tragic seriousness of
what is to come. He pretends an unconcern with
"better unsaid." But in Spite of the foolish modesty

of calling their search walking "in our sleep,"

many
have "died on our quest." Because of this sacrifice
history must take them seriously enough to make a
comment more relevent than "what matter." History
at this point does not choose to answer and MacNeice
uses the next stanza to Speculate on history's future
attitude, and eSpecially the place of their humane
idealism in the future triumph of technology.

We who always had, but never admitted, a master,

Who were eXpected---andpaid--to be ourselves,

Conditioned to think freely, how can we

Patch up our broken hearts and modes of thought

in plaster

And glorify in chromium-plated stories

Those who shall supersede us and cannot need us--

The tight-lipped technocratic Conquistadores?

(Springboard), P 39-

The force of these poets being expected and paid to
be themselves is not entirely clear, except inasmuch
as they were read by those already partially condi-
tioned to their viewpoint. The important lines are

those that eXpress, with a deliberately awkward inner

423

rhyme, the pessimistic belief that the future will
have no need for their liberal philOSOphies for
"those who supersede us...cannot need us." This new
generation, the new adventurous "Conquistadores" as
MacNeice calls them with angry sarcasm, are tight-
lipped and technocratic. They lack smiling humanity
in their world of technology which is reflected by
"chromium plated stores;" bright, shiny, grossly
modernistic. At least in MacNeice's case he talked
of "gilt" on his images: this chromium suggests all
the tinselled flashiness and aseptic valugarity of
the brave new world future. In this future their
humane idealism can have no place, and the only
reassurance that MacNeice can find is that this
cycle of neglect is not new to historyband he recalls
Catullus:

The Individual has died before; Catullus

Went down young, gave place to those who were born old

And more adaptable and were not even jealous

Of his wild life and lyrics. Though our songs

Were not so warm as his, our fate is no less cold.

(Spriggboard)» P 39.

How well MacNeice epitomises the social adjusters,
those who find their society so totally acceptable
they are “born old," arguing about a pension as soon

as they leave college and without even the imagina-

tion and grace to feel that they are giving up anything

#24
precious. They cannot even understand why, in choosing
their life, they should miss the "warm life and lyrics."
There seems some wry consolation in the fact that
these poets share the Roman fate. The last stanza,
however, is more assertive and even hOpeful.
Such silence then before us, pinned against the
Whywfieed we whine? There is no way out, the birds
Will tell us nothing more; we shall vanish first,
Yet leave behind us certain frozen words
Which some day, though not certainly, may melt
And, for a moment or two, accentuate a thirst.
(§pringboard). P 39.
MacNeice faces the realization that for a time this
poetry will be forgotten, for "there is silence
before us." But this vanishing is not the end for
something will be left behind, neglected now, but
potentially valid, "frozen words." The "frozen"
implies the temporary frigidity of their reception,
though they are poems almost "as warm as his." A
further suggestion, of course, is of refrigeration;
these words can be stored indefinitely and wait for
a time when a warmth of "birds" and "wild life" will
again give them life. As they melt the ice turns to
water, and the figure is continued in the hOpe that
this water will give a moment of refreshment to a
future to which the "tight-lipped technocrats" have
denied this spiritual irrigation. These modest lines

seem a very idealistic longing. Temporarily the poets

425

face extinction, but their dreams, their words, are
as eternal as those of Catullus, and all MacNeice
eXpects is that they may under a warmth of sympathy
"for a moment or two accentuate a: thirst." That
’hccentuate" is typical. It would have been so easy
to use "assuage" but the values of these poets do

not aim at satiating and stultifying the feelings but
at beginning their creation, for these verses are

not answers but "half-blind questions" that are as
eternal as the condition of mankind which they re-
fleet.

This poem makes a concluding point in the con-
tinuous line of MacNeice’s Spiritual deve10pment.

A sense of defeat and frustration has for a moment
lightened to a point of hOpe in the identification
with the line of other poets.

Then in 1961 after a gap, came a new slim volume
of poetry entitled Solstices. The title itself is
highly suggestive for it implies a point of stasis
before the sun changes direction. It is not clear
whether this is meant to serve as a declaration that
the poet will make a sudden change or merely the
rather lame eXplanation that conversely these are the
last poems in this style. The most obvious aSpect of

this volume is the number of stylistic and thematic

426

threads one can find that COpy and echo the earlier
work. It is a volume of retrOSpection. I can

best indicate this effect by discussing some ex-
amples.

From time to time there are faint hints of the
old interest in pylon or technical imagery. Consider
the references in the poem called Th3.flipg£.

But never a gauge nor needle

To tell us where we are going

Or when day will come.

(Louis MacNeice, Solstices) p 64.
The instruments are used to point out the poet's
failure to measure the future he faces. I have
already commented on the use of the powerful verbs
in MacNeice's lines. When he wrote one war poem
concerning the burning of London calledBrother Eigg,
the dog imagery was rather heavily handled. He
reverts to the same subject in retrOSpect in Homage
to Wren.

And the flames were whippeting, dolphining a

over the streets,

The red whale Spouting out of submerged Londinium

And Davy Jones locker burst wide Open.
(Louis MacNeice, Solstices) p 64.

 

It is clear that this burning had considerable im-
pact on his memory, but this poem is not much better
than the earlier one. The dog image lingers in

H

"whippeting" but the general theme is of the "sea

427

of fire that justifies the use of "dolphins" and
"whales." The compression created by making verbs
of "whippet" and'dolphin" looks as though it should
produce a valid metaphor but somehow there seems in-
adequate justification for their use.

In a poem called 222.2223: MacNeice reminds
one of the colorful imagery he has used in the past,
like those vivid Salvation Army nasturtiums of
Autumn Journal. However now the impact is somewhat
less satisfying.

Through a grass greenly men as trees walking

Led by their dogs, trees as torrents

Loosed by the thaw, tulips as shriek marks

(Yelps of delight) lovers as coracles

Riding the rapids: Spring as Spring

Releasing the jack-in-the-box of a fanfare.

(Solstices), p 47.

Here the images appear sudden and exciting; those
"trees as torrents" have an almost Van Gogh passion.
Yet somehow there is a sense of strain. The com—
parisons are a shade too violent, almost as if they
contain an element of hysteria. The bright, sculp-
tured tulips do give a sudden Splash of violent color
in the flower beds, but are they that dramatic?
There seems a forced shrillness in the comparison of

the flowers with the noisy "shrieks" and "yelps."

The "jack-in—the-box" is also false for Spring is

428

hardly that mechanical. It seems to me that here
there are the old methods now a little less subtly
handled, more vulgar in their over-emphasis. Maturity
which should have brought refinement has caused
MacNeice to strain after exactly that uncontrolled
excess that would often mark a youthful poet's
flashier lines.

Another aSpect found in this volume that has
rarely been a feature of MacNeice's poetry is a dull-
ness of theme. In a lengthy poem called Indoor EEEEE
he describes darts, shovehalfpenny and vingt-et-un.

An eXplanation of the rules takes up a large propor-
tion of the poem. These lines are typical:
Darts. Begin and end with a double. He places his feet
Square apart on the rubber mat. I bet I shall end
As always on double one.
Vingt—et-un.
Stay, twist or buy. Ase is eleven or one.
Not really much scope for skill. I could
play this ame in my sleep.
%Solstices), p 33.
I fail to see any worthwhile feature in lines like
these.

In my earlier discussion of Bagpipe yppig, I

pointed out the way that sometimes lines of the

silliest doggerel did have one value, they allowed

following significant lines of poetry to make a more

429

striking impact. This trick is revived in the
generally rather trivial poem YOurs Next. This
poem carries the tavern cry of "Someone has got to
pay for the round." The first verse is as flat as
the eXplanations for games above. Here he describes
the pin-ball machine.

Fruit machines and pin tables-—

Someone has got to pay for the round.

Only release the Spring, the ball

Will scurry, the coins will clatter and all

That was ill lost may well be found.
(Solstices), p 29.

 

The last verse repeats this theme but now it has
significantly deepened. Now the poet very earnestly
uses the same phrase to indicate a much wider reponsi-
bility for payment. What a man does must be paid for
and the triviality of the pin tables only serves to
reinforce the solemnity when the same terms are used
for the most significant humane concerns.

Stake and faggot and gas chamber--

Someone has got to pay for the round.

Only press the button and all

The strings will twang, the heads will fall,

And yet, whatever the drinks are downed,

Somebody has got to pay for the round.
(Solstices), 29

 

Pin tables and the gas chamber, inconsequence and
man's reSponsibility are brought together here.
The technique is one that MacNeice has used success-

fully earlier. Against that stake and gas-chamber

 

I. i. ' .b!‘

430

the paying for the round has a sinister and effective
echo, but it seems no advance on previous usage of
the same device of contrast.

There are also some parodies that are qdite
amusing. One in particular,Old Heaters Abroad,wittily
discusses the problems of teaching the examination
classics of English literature to students who can
have no personal eXperience of the associations on
which they depend. The study of this literature
exists for them, in a huge vacuum to be approached
only through ardent feats of memorization. The two
key verses which record his teaching eXperience in
India are these.

And the Skylark crying 'Bird I never!’

Routs parrakeet, hornbill, kookaburra,

While the nightingale puts on Spurs in Hampstead

To rip the guts from the decadent bulbul.

Wee sleekit courin timorous warthogl

Tirra lirra by Kabul River!

The elmtree hole is in tiny leaf but

Not for long because of the termites.

(Solstices). p 57.
These playful lines’are quite funny but one can
scarcely pretend that they make serious poetry.

Another subject that occupies MacNeice again
is his feelings about his schooling and early training.

English Public School boys never escape the effect

of these years whether their feeling towards them are

431

stickily sentimental or violently antagonistic.
In Notes for g Biography_MacNeice reconsiders the
effect of the principles ingrained at school. It is
revealing that although this poem records the accepted
pattern (the thrashings to inculcate the qualities
that will rule an empire) it is not MacNeice's own
history because he did not have to undertake a stint
of colonial service. Orwell did and his eXperiences
demonstrate the same attitude and self-analysis that
MacNeice undertakes.
Splinters under the nails, weals on the buttocks,
Schooled to service (or was it pride of class?)
He graduated at length to a land of babus and
banyans.
And fought their topsy—turvey and held the pass
And was just, so he thought; but lonely.
Until the pass was sold (Or was it redeemed?)
And he who had been so homesick, went home reluctant,
Among his own kind a stranger--and one who dreamed
Of a million strangers who fawned or looked askance
Yet kept his life worth living.
(Solstices), pp l6, 17.
The most obvious point to be made here is that there
is exactly the same emotional division that charac-
terised MacNeice's earlier poems about his family
and school. On the one hand there is the dreary repe—

tition of all the stock socialist poses. The asser-

tion, made so often, that bullying and discipline set

432

"graduates"

a boy up to employ the same when he
(the sneer is deliberate) to acting as an awesome
schoolmaster in a colonial district. The schooling,
based on class pride, has let to a world of service.
The motive significance of "babu" is about the same
as "wog". The man succeeds, in fact very well,
making the "t0psy turvey" orderly and defends those
public school values of justice. So one has to set
together the sneers of the earlier lines with the
rather resentful reSpect of the last two. Then the
colony is made independent and the administrator is
brought back a stranger to the land in which he was
educated.‘ His education has fitted him for nothing
in his own country. This again is a legitimate enough
observation, as is the questioing whether the loss
of such colonies was a sell-out or a redemption for
both colony and occupier. But this serious tOpic

is left for the remark in the last line where the
obvious pdlgohérof "life worth living" is used to
ridicule the duties he performed. The "million
strangers who fawned" is another stock left—wing
picture. MacNeice still seems ready to fall back
upon the stereotype when it fits in with the atti-

tudes he feels he should adopt.

 

FNQINLF

433

The fourth section of this poem reviews the
assumptions on which MacNeice had lived his life and
it includes some comments about his feelings over
Hiroshima. These lines are vague and brief enough,
but there is significance in the fact that of all
the liberal poets who had written about the disasters
of the thirties, only MacNeice could find it in himr
self to write a few casual lines about this bombing
with all its moral implications. The section begins
with words Spoken presumably by the same youth of the
previous section. He has found that he must question
all the established traditions and beliefs to which
he has been brought up.

And I

Could assume in my youth that the system was sound

And the world little more than one great polo

ground.

But the years they went past and I noticed a

change:

The world had grown larger and out of my range.

With the horses gone out and ideas come in,

Where we thought we had ended they bade us begin.
(Solstices), p 18.

 

I think the tripping, regular rhythm is in itself a
measure of the triviality that dominates the poem.
One notes eSpecially that repetition of subject to
maintain the brisk annapests in "but the years they
went past." The deliberate cliche'of "the system

was sound" and the snob reference to polo maintains

 

434

the orthodox left-wing tone of the previous sections.
MacNeice is approaching a serious subject in a de-
liberately light and belittling tone. The same
arguments can be used to criticize the next stanza.
That trick of the double subject is repeated and the
capital "H" of "Hour" puts sarcastic quotation marks
round the word. The only surprise is that the Lords
of Convention are no longer the conservative tradi-
tionalists, but the new power seekers who deSpise
the old imperial ideas for practical, not idealistic
reasons.
Then the Lords of Convention they rose up and Spoke:
'Your values are senile, your system is broke;
You may still talk of duty but we talk of power,
So open the atlas, for this is the Hour.’
(Solstices), p 18.
It seems at first as if this stanza would fit very
neatly into the Speech of any socialist character
who acted as the mouth~piece for left-wing theories_
in the political drama of the thirties when so many
plays were written for Special left-wing club audi-
ences. But the irony here is that it is presumably
spoken by the new powerful, monied managers who de-
spise the values of the old aristocracy as much as
they condemn the ideas of the left-wing working classes.

There is great irony here but more in the fact it-

self than in the use that MacNeice makes of it in

o.
F‘I‘fltul .A. lt . t

435

these lines. These toovrhythmic couplets prepare
the way for his comment on the use of the atomic
bomb. I have indicated their significance as being
the only comment to come from the pens of the major
liberal poets of this era. That they are indifferent
in quality is also highly indicative.
'Now follow our pointer, look, here is Japan
Where man must now make what he chooses of man,
And these towns are selected to pay for their crime—-
A milestone in history, a gravestone in time.’
When I first read the news, to my shame I was glad;
When I next read the news I thought man had
gone mad,
And every day Since the more news that I read
I too would plead guilty-~but where can I plead?
For no one will listen, however much I rage;
I am not of their temper and not of this age.
Outnumbered, outmoded, I only can pray
Common sense if not love, will still carry the day.
(Solstices), pp 18r’19.
The thought that the towns must pay for "their"
crime, allows the possessive to stand for all man-
kind, rather than the crime of their citizens, the
enemy. But if this is serious immediately comes the
cliche dredged from the politicians' Speeches "a
milestonein history." The next two lines, in which
instinctive violence and a feeling of the triumph of
victory come before the realization of man's criminal
folly, is a truthful observation, though one cannot

take it fully seriously when it iS gabbled as the

436 ‘
rhythm demands. The last verse that finally escapes
from that regular metre seems the most successful,
though presumably it is now MacNeice himself talking
through the persona of the polo player. The impor-
tant thing is that in these lines we have returned
to an attitude which MacNeice had already investi-
gated in many of the last poems in his Cpllected Pgems,
the sense of alienation and despair. He now accepts
that ”however I rage” he will not be heeded.

Perhaps he is remembering the rage with which he
wrote his passionate poems in the thirties. This
indignation he must increasingly see as wasted. The
same aptness can be seen in ”outnumbered outmoded.”
The last plaintive line is a revealing footnote to.
Audends ”We must love one another or die." Clearly
of the alternative, death in an atomic holocaust now
seems the most likely. Against such an event MacNeice
now seems to feel that ”love” is too high an ideal
to be achieved, only a little prosaic ”common-sense”
can be set against the destruction. Even at this .
moment of solemn despair the verse ends with another
of those glib little cliche/s) ”will still carry the
day." .

.This anxious despairing note that had occurred

so often in his earlier volume is found throughout

437

Solstices as he seeks some relief from the knowledge
that "all tomorrows must be faced alone." He sees
still on every side the evidence of the destruction
of the things he cherishes, the development of a
cold materialistic society.

That sameness governed by a switch

Which could epitomise our times

Where everything, not only light

But food and freedom, thought and life,

Can be Switched on just so--or off.
Yet in the face of the daily encroachments of things
on the life he seeks, he still finds amongst the in-
tellectuals the same fatuous blindness; the old re-
fusal to act; the trivialities, that had driven him
to the isolation of Iceland. In Idle Talk he criti-
cises these who shelter behind a Spate of words.

And yet we continue, frivolous, garrulous,

Plotting our chatter, planting our annuals--

jLnecdote, limerick, tittle-tattle, chestnut--

But come full circle, the leaves are green.

(Solstices), p 52.

These leaves Should "put to Shame our idle gossip,"
but it continues, for there is no solution to the
intellectuals' plight.

In this recent volume of poetry MacNeice has
taken up the old themes, he has utilized the techni-
ques of his earlier verse. In neither style nor idea

has there been any decisive change. The old questions

remain and the confidence in the answers has departed.

438

Somehow I can feel that MacNeice is not fully con-
vinced himself by his recent verse and yet there is
no obvious hint that we can eXpect different or more
significant poetry in future. The early promise has
evaporated, the eXpected maturity has not really
developed. There are now only "a few frozen words"
that remind us of the achievement of this poet.

In 1963 MacNeice published his last work. It
is a slim volume of poetry called Th3 Burning nggh'
(London, 1963). Does its title wittily suggest the
extreme hazard of his menaced poetic position? The
book itself rather sadly confirms the characteris-
tice I describe in Solstices. Perhaps the best
single word to describe this work may be taken from
the title of one of these poems, Rechauffei The
various styles lack either coherence or authority.
One poem with a title from the old round song in-
flated into French is a pointless reworking of the
nursery tune, Chateau Jackson. It begins with tire-
some inversions of the popular ditty:

Where is the Jack that built the house

That houses the folk that tilled the field
That filled the bags that brimmed the mill....

(The Burning Perch), p 16.

There are thirty-seven subsequent "that" clauses.

The poem Flower Show in contrast to the above

439
simplicity is a hideous agglomeration of repeated
polysyllables which are supposed to describe the
collected blooms on diSplay.
Squidlike, phallic or vulvar, hypnotic, idiotic,

oleanginous,
Fanged or whale-boned, wattled or budding,

brimstone or cold. (Th3 Eggnigg Perch), p. 19.

Here the reader is bludgeoned by the blows of excess
vocabulary.

Th2 gagis is partly in song form, but seems to
desire to suggest some Kafka-like symbolism of the
unknown. Hiring the fourth of the series of taxis
is recorded in these curiously inexplicable words:

As for the fourth taxi he was alone

Tra-la when he nailed it, but the cabby looked

Through him and said, ”Ican't tra-la well take

So many people, not to speak of the dog."

The rhythm of the last line disintegrates to the
point of being deliberately ludicrous. After an-
countering this poem one is regaled with an odd
appeal to a recalcitrant milkman.

Milkmen, milkman your empties

Are all to collect, do not wait

Till they Jive on the steps. (The Bu nin er h),
A longer poem is a series of stanzas each addressed
with encyclopedic comprehensiveness to a separate

tree; Willow, oak, palm and so on. The stanza on

yew may be taken as a typical example.

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440

Your health, master yew, my bones are few

And I fully admit my rent is due,

But do not be vexed I will post-date a cheque

for you.
What can one make of doggerbllike this?

Only once in this generally trivial collection
does something of the old note sound. MacNeice is
leaving London, and as he writes his Goodbye :2
London he recalls the city as it had been some
twenty years before. As he remembers that past time
he also approaches again the emotions which possessed
him in that decade.

Then came the head-shrinking war, the city

Closed in too, the people were fewer

But closer too, were back in the womb.

Nevertheless let the petals fall

Fast from the flower of cities all.

From which reborn into anti-climax

We endured much litter and apathy, hoping

The phoenix would rise, for so they promised.

Nevertheless let the petals fall

Fast from the flower of cities all.

I do not consider that this is eSpecially Signifi-
cant poetry, but the second stanza does indicate
something of the more general sense of disappointmnnt
MacNeice feels} "We endured much...hoping the phoenix
would rise." But the post-war world did nothing to

rehabilitate their hepes for a city of justice and

441

beauty. The idealists of the thirties had to face
that the promises were not going to be kept any more
than they had been in 1919. MacNeice begins to
Speculate that it may be his ideals that are no
longer relevent to a time which seem such a total
anti—climax. In a poem entitled Q££_thg_ggg, he
compares his old beliefs to the crudely pre-cut
Sizes of the ready-to-wear tailor. There has been
no attempt to remeasure the suit of ideas to fit the
changing social and political circumstances. He
observes

The same times hang on the page in the cloak-

rooms of the mind

That fitted us ten or twenty or thirty years ago.
(The Burning Perch). P 57.

That they no longer fit is sadly obvious from this
collection. But there is no evidence of any busy
tailoring going on to make a more effective beSpoke
garment.

As I write this essay the death of Louis MacNeice
has Just been announced. He was only 56. Now all
the Speculations about any possible future poetic
development are stilled. It was interesting to note
the tone of the brief obituary columns that discussed
his work. They implicitly accepted that his achieve-

ment had been in the past. The writers talked of

442
his views in the thirties, of his feeling for the

Spanish revolution, of his association with the other
three poets of this thesis. Then there is an awkward
hiatus and his work for the B.B.C. radio programs

is discussed with praise. It was almost universally
accepted that MacNeice's poetry written after the

war had declined to the point where it was almost
negligible as a poetic force in English letters.

In the essay I have tried to demonstrate the nature
of this decline, and perhaps explain partly the
reasons. That his premature death is a loss to
English letters is obvious, and yet one could not
have imagined that more valuable poetry was to come.

Solstices may have implied that his work was about

 

to enter another phase, but none of the repetitive
and thin verses in that collection promised the
beginnings of the new writing that might have been

suggested by the title, and The Burninngerch was a

 

decisive failure. One can only fear that when the
obituaries are written to the other poets, the
comments will be somewhat similar. It iS not easy
to believe that a longer life will in fact produce
further significant poetry. The last collections of

each Show a definite scraping of the barrel of the

443

old styles. There is little hint of a new embryonic
form or eXperimental style that suggests the possi-
bility of subsequent major achievement. As MacNeice
had written earlier, in a heartfelt prayer,

0 Thou, my monster, Thou my guide,

Be with me where the bluffs divide

Nor let me contemplate return

To where my backward chattels burn

In haunts of friendship and untruth

The Cities of the Plain of Youth.

(Springboard), p 43.

The distant Cities of Youth would remain the vital
part of the poetic empires of all four of these

writers.

444

THE CONTEMPORARY VIEW

The Spanish Civil War and all the other im-
passioned issues of the thirties have become only
subjects for the historian's detached examination.

In one of several recent examinations of the events
of this decade an editor comments:

Already that war seems to belong to ancient history.

The emotions it aroused are already foreign to us.

The idealism of the young who rushed to the defense

of the Republic seems suspect now; it was not at

the time. The Recruits who went into battle
singing, "Death to the Bride" seem to belong to
medieval history. Ghosts walked over Spain, and
some became palpable and some died, and still
othenschanged their Shape and assumed new dis-
guises. And sometimes the historian may wonder
how to disentangle the ghosts from the living
presences of the men who suffered through that
long and improbable agon.1
Today we are separated from the thirties by the great
World War of 1939-45. In every way this acts as a
division to the out look of generations. No longer
is it possible for the young to feel any sense of
personal involvement in the issues of that pre-war
decade. Walter Allen in a review of John Lehmann's
personal memoirs of this time felt called upon to

observe:

 

l The Civil War ig Spain, R. Payne,edit.,(New Ybrk,
1962), p. 12.

445

The young have known the real thing, how eXpect
them then to be moved by the contemplation of a
rehearsal; twenty-five bombers over Barcelona,
and such small bombs too? More and more it
appears that the real Split between generations
today reveals itself in the differing emotional
attitudes towards the Spanish Civil War.2

A young poet and critic expresses the basis of this

scorn.

No doubt the sense‘of impending disaster in the
thirties was oppressive; what actually happened
after 1939 was so much more appalling than any-
one imagined that all talk of nerves, injustice
and retribution now appears trivial...everything
Auden had to say of the Situation which led up
to the Second World War seems as little to the
purpose as was Rupert Brooke's heroism.3

That this change of attitude iS coupled with a dif-

ferent view of politics is noted by Oliver Edwards

in an article in the London Times.

For the first time for more than one hundred
years it has ceased to be fashionable, eSpecially
among the young who care about writing, to be
rebelliously left wing. So young men and women
at the universities we are told, now regard the
dons who still from force of habit angle their
writings in books and weekly papers to the left,
much as their fathers did those reactionary
tutors who fought to the last ditch for
compulsory divinity and Greek.4

 

2 W. Allen, Review of "The WliSpering Gallery," New

Statesman, June 21, 1955.

3 A. Alvarez, Stewards gprxcellence (New York, 1958),

4

p. 105.

0. Edwards, Times, March 24, 1955, p. 18.

446

It takes a poet to enunciate the ideas of an age;
and a young poet, Donald Davie,describes his reaction
to the thirties as incniplity mingled with Slight
resentment. He has known real war and the post-war
social change. Spain and the disasters of the inter-
war era seem only an irritating and fanciful pre-
occupation of his father's generation. The whole
period appears only a legend, approached, if at all,
through the school history books. Davie has written
a poem called Remembering The Thirties in which he
eXpressly attempts to explain his feelings as he
contemplates this recent but remote past.

Hearing one saga we enact the next.

We please our elders when we Sit enthralled

But then they're puzzled; and at last they're vexed

To have their youth so avidly recalled.

It dawns upon the veterans after all

That what for them were agonies, to us

Are high-brow thrillers; though historical;

And all their feats quite strictly fabulous.

This novel, written fifteen years ago

Set in my boyhood and my boyhood home

These poems about "abandoned workings" Show

Worlds more remote than Ithaca or Rome.

The Anschluss, Guernica, all the names

At which these poets thrilled or were afraid

For me mean schools and schoolmasters and games

And in the process someone is betrayed.

Ourselves perhaps. The devil for a joke

Might carve his initials on our desk

And still we'd miss the point because he Spoke
An idiom too dated, Audenesque.

M7

They played the fool, not to appear as fools

In time's long glass. A depreciating air

Disarmed, they thought, the jeers of later schools.
Yet irony itself is doctrinaire.

And, curiously, nothing now betrays

Their type to time's derision like this coy
Insistence on the quizzical, their craze
For showing Hector was a mother's boy.

A neutral tone is nowadays preferred.
And yet it may be better, if we must,

To find the stance impressive and absurd
Than not to see the hero for the dust.

For courage is the vegetable king,

The Spring of all ontologies, the weed

That beards the slag heap with its hectoring

Whose green adventure is to run to seed.
(Remembering_the Thirties), p 70.

 

This is a straightforward declaration of the
change between the generations. Not only "abandoned
workings" but even poems about them are remote as
Ithaca. The welfare State and post-war full employ-
ment have made stories of the depression, its soup
kitchens and hunger marches "though historical...

' Names such as Guernica, once the

strictly fabulous.’
rallying points of inter-war liberalism are only
recalled as words heard uncomprehendingly during
school. It is remembered as a dreary lesson com-
pared with the authentic excitements of Sports. But,
"someone is betrayed." If the generation of the

thirties blamed their fathers for Versailles and their

failure to impose a Just solution after the 1914-18

448

war, Davie's generation is Just as convinced that the
blame for the 1939-45 war can be placed squarely in
the laps of their parents, who are of Spender's age.
Fascism and unemployment are equally remote to a
generation fearing only Communism, overproduction,
and an atomic holocaust. The themes that inflamed
these poets now seem irrelevant and delusive.

The rejection of the political and social
assumptions of the poets would be enough in itself
to explain their dismissal by younger intellectuals.
Basthe political reaction has been reinforced by a
definite critical change. The devil's style is
"dated" because it is "Audenesque"; a scathing enough
judgment. It is revealing too that John Mander's
recent critical essay on Auden is rhetorically titled
"Must We Burn Auden?" His answer has a rather Specious
generosity; a qualified, "Not all of him and not all
at once."3 The moods of disinterest or occasional
wondering irritation about the ideals of the thirties
are both a cause and a result of the move towards the
political Right in England even if this is signalled
only by a tepid apathy to political issues. The Opti—

mistic voted for an egalitarian society in 1945 had

 

5 John Mander, The Writer and Commitment (Phila. 1962),
""" ' Pp 24- O.

 

449
floundered in bureaucratic stagnation by 1950. The
lost opportunity to introduce the idealistic reforms
from the thirties then led to the squalid decade of
the fifties with its ubiquitous motto "I'm all right
Jack." In the post‘war society Joining the Communist
party is no longer considered a necessary apprentice-
ship to adult life. is John Press indicates: ’
Scarcely any poets in England turn nowadays to
Communism as a source of hope, nor do they feel
the least enthusiasm for an anti-communist
crusade. For them the Soviet Union is not so
much a monstrous tyranny as a narrow, rigid,
illiberal, dull bureaucracy, remarkably effi-
cient in certain wayg, but fundamentally a
dreary civilization.
The urge t6 revolutionize society seems to have been
lost in that combination of Joyless hedonism and
pathetic defeatism exemplified by the so-called
Angry Ybung Men. The left-wing causes are sardonically
repudiated but no alternative seems very engaging.
Simone de Beavoir remarked, “La gauche a perdu sa
chaleur, 1a droite n'e rien appris.” Davie coolly
observes in the poem above "A neutral tone is nowadays
preferred." It is revealing that the title of the
John Press essay quoted above embraces recent poetry
under the comprehensive title, ”A Neutral Tone.”

But if the "neutral tone” insulates one's emotions

against the painful results of shattered idealism, such

 

5J. Press, Rule and Energy (London, 1963), p. 15.

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450

safe indifference is not the most satisfying or exciting
stimulus to the young. John Osborne uses the charac-
ter Jimmy Porter, with his bitter, self-lacerating
snarls, as the mouthpiecefbr an angry, sardonic
generation. For him there is almost nostalgic in
those remote worlds of Guernica and Jarrow. For all
their horror they permitted legitimate and passionate
indignation; luxuries denied to his generation. In
L295 gap; in Angez, the play that became the name
and focus of a movement, Osborne explains the rootless
indifference and the unfocussed cynicism with these
biting words:

I suppose people of our generation aren't able to

die for good causes any longer. We had all

that done for us in the thirties and forties when

we were still kids. There aren't any good

brave causes left. If the big bang does come

and weiall get killed off it won't be in aid

of any old fashioned Grand Design. It will be

Just for the Brave New Nothing thank you very

much.7
Day Lewis offers a measure of sympathy for this view.
He admits that the young may be right to point out
the folly and false optimism of his generation. ”The
thirties might well seem to those unborn then if
not an age of faith at least an absurdly credulous

one.” But he realizes that in spite of the delusion,

 

7J. Osborne, Logk Back in Anger, (London, 1957), p.84.

 

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451
it gave his generation a sense of purpose and opti-
mism denied to the present one. Compared to the age
of Davie and Osborne his may have been the luckier
time.

We were singularly fortunate, compared with

the young of today, in believing that some-

thing could be done about the social and

political evils confronting us. Had we seen

all avenues blocked by mushroom-shaped gpeotres

we might well have thrown in our hands.

But many found contemplation of their parts in
the history of the thirties less calmly acceptable.
Some saw it rather as a period of monstrous swindle.
Koestler explodes with bitter anger at the way he
had been deluded.

The members of the Left Book Club in Bournemouth

and the dead in the mass graves of Spain, we had

all been taken in all right by the greatest farce
the world has ever seen.
Yet in some ways Koestler's attitude is more one of
despair and frustration than of anger. The era had
seemed to offer the dawn of a new hope; the universal
order of brotherhood had appeared within their grasp.
At the beginning of the war Koestler was imprisoned

in a French internment camp surrounded by refugees

 

80. Day Lewis, The Bgzieg Day. (London, 1960), p. 208.

9;. Koestler, The Scum of the Earth,(New York, 1941),
De 19o

 

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452

from Fascist Spain and Germany. These men had been
ironically interned as the absurd result of France's
first anti-German action. Despairingly he records
his sad comprehension;

These 150tmen of the leper barracks were the

remnants of the International Brigade, once

the pride of the European revolutionary move-

ment. They had been the material for the first

experiment since the Crusades to form an army

of volunteers which would fight for a cosmo-

politan creed. But now they were rejected and

forgotten as every nation found the concentra-

tion camp the only place for their outdated

liberal idealism. 0
For many the discovery that any idealistic belief in
Communism was untenable may not have been caused by
the despicable ending to the Spanish War. The lussian-
German non-aggression pact of 1939, whatever its
motives, was a dramatic shock to the party faithful.
It was a classic example of diplomatic hypocrisy; the
compromise of principle for immediate political ad-
vantage. If unremarkable in itself, it demonstrated
that the Russian government would undertake the same
shifty manoeuvres that were assumed to be charactere
istic only of decadent capitalist governments. Tschumi
claims that it was this pact that "destroyed the myth

which had been the center of the doctrine."11

 

1OThe 393g 9; thg Eagth, p. 119.

‘13. Tschumi, Thou ht in 20th Centur En lish Poetr .
(London, 1951), p. 157.

453

But whatever the precise moment of illumination
for the individual, by the beginning of the war for
most intellectuals the realization had come that the
brotherhood of man was not going to be founded on the
exploded myth of the glorious Russian Revolution.
In the God that Failed” the great liberal writers of
the nations of Europe, including Spender from Britain,
Koestler from Hungary, Silone from Italy and Gide from
France, expressed their recantations. These ranged
ingtone from exasperated denunciation to nostalgic
longing. ind Koestler again voices the way the changed
new sentiment had led to their condemnation.

A few years ago we had been called the martyrs of

Fascist barbarism, pioneers of the fight for

civilization, defenders of liberty and what not;

the Press andtthe statesman of the west had made

rather a fuss about us, probably to drown the voice

of their own bed consc ence. Nowwe had become

the scum of the earth. 3
Poets and intellectuals, all were left a middle age
without belief, convicted of self-delusion.

The change of attitude that seems to be so obvious

now when Russian communism has been exposed for the

merciless expansionist dictatorship it is, does not

 

12The age That Failgd, R. H. Crossman, edit.,
(New ork, , assim.

13Thg Sggm 9; the Earth, p. 67.

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454

alter the validity of its appeal in the thirties.
The unchecked advance of Fascism until the reluctant
declaration of war in 1939, and the present confident
power of Franco in Spain both represent the failure
of the liberals to influence international politics,
but they do not belittle or invalidate their response
or their poetry. As Gadsen puts it,
Politically it may all be forgotten or discredited
but that does not matter since the psychological
and moral validity remain.

(K.W. Gadsen, essay "Rebels and Tire Servers"
20th Century_Nagazine, Iarch, 1957.)

 

Daniel Aaron supports this belief distinguishing very
carefully between the practical folly and the moral
validity of this decade.
We who precariously survive the sixties can regret
their inadequacies and failures, their romanticism,
their capacity for self-deception, their shrill-
ness, their selfrighteousness. It is less easy
to scorn their efforts, however blundering
and ineffective, to change the world.14
In Spain the issue seemed clear and the challenge was
taken up with the heroic and honest belief that there
was a right and a wrong and that it was possible to
choose one or the other, and then do something about
that choice. This belief in personal reSponsibility,
so strong in the thirties, is regarded as somewhat
naive today when all motives seem questionable and

morality blurred to the point where the typical reSponse

to events is an ironic shrug. Fairlie in a Spectator

 

 

14 D. Aaron, Writers 93 The Left. (New York, 1963, p 396.

455

review remarked rather smugly that "the men with
dirty hands in the inter-war years were the intellec-

tuals."15 His jibe received the following satisfying

retort from Kingsley Martin, himself one of these

intellectuals:

Mr. Fairlie and his friends live in a Welfare
tate in which their consciences are not daily
harrowed by the fact of two million unemployed.
They are able to write as they do because they
eat breakfast in the morning without the tthought
that they ought to be sharing it with families
who are trying to live on twenty-six shillings
a week. The intellectuals of the thirties were
the deeperate defenders of the liberal tradition
of the West, against those who, both in Spain _
and in Germany, denied the modest thesis that
men through the power of their own reason might
in some degree increase the measure of their own
happiness.16

The sneers are easy enough. From today's view-
point the attitude of the thirties seems at best
Quixotic, at worst dishonest and muddle-headed pos-
turing. Angus Wilson's topical pen has already
ossified them. Although his tone has a certain ambiva-
lent pity the remote extinct people exhibited in his
short story Such Darling Dodosl7 are the liberal

intellectuals who fought in Spain, deplored Munich

 

15 K. Martin, quoted in Review of "The Political Ideas
' of Herbert Laski", New Statesman,
April 1, 1950.

 

16 100. cit.

17 A. Wilson, Such Darling Dodos (London, 1956), Ragsim.

456
and tried to expose the fallacy of Britain's inter-
war policy. In another tone George Scott with a
superior impatience based on satisfied superiority
finds that

Pity for the individuals has exhausted itself,
the mass neurosis of the 30's has been exhibited
before us too often for us to find sympathy still.

(TLEE and Elacg), P0 170
And Eliot goes still further with this petulant attack

in a letter in which he declares:

For some years literature was involved with a
silly kind of political enthusiasm. Less is
heard about that now, in fact I think it is
generally the opinion that the less said about
politics the better and that a literary review
should disclose no conviction. (Catacomb).

Even those who felt strongly sympathetic at the time
seem to be swept now by historical change into such
a revaluation of their previous view that it amounts
to a repudiation. Herbert Read announces in the pre-
face to his autobiography:

These pages will make it sufficiently clear

that I consider the "no man's years“ between

the were as largely futile, spent unprofitably
by me and all my kind. It does not pretend to
know how we could have made them more positive,
the forces against us were not human but Satanic,
blind forces of economic drift, with the walls
of faith and reason turning to air behind us. 8

 

18H. Read, The Contrar Ex erienceg (London, 1963):
p. 30

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Spender in his critical re-examination of poetry,

 

The Creative Element-offers a view that is to be set
against his earlier, overtly political, vision of
literature,The Destructive Element. THe recants with

the following eXplanation.

Where I went wrong was in thinking that because
I saw a political cause where the writers whom
I was discussing saw a moral situation their
vision implied a political view. I was right
to think that politics in the deepest sense is
concerned with the moral condition of society
but wrong to think that the artist concerned
with this condition need also be concerned with
politics even by implication. The point really
is that a moral View of society can be stated
without any concern for social actions of any
kind, whereas directly politics enters in social
action and taking sides are involved.19

Cyril Connolly proclaimed his surrender when in his
editorial column he announced his own abdication.
This change of policy is based on the belief
that the homeymoon between literature and action,
once so promising, is over. (Horizon, July, 1947)
With German troops in N.A.T.O. and U. S. planes
based in Franco's Spain the political reaction is
obvious. Yet coupled with this and reinforcing it,
is a poetic change, a revision of literay beliefs and
principles. Fraser sees this division at an early stage.
Even before the outbreak of the 1937 war, various

reactions were setting in against the dominance
of Auden's group...in fact the reaction against the

 

19 S. Spender, The Creative Element (London. 1953%
p Q.

 

458

tone of 1930's poetry in the last decade was not
originally political but poetic.2O

John Press also recognizes the significant distinc—
tion that occurs in English poetry at this period, but
he sees the source of the division from a slightly
different angle,

Yet it so happens that the years 1939-41 mark

the end of an epoch in British poetry, for

reasons only partially connected with the coming

of war. (331g and Energy), p 2.

Press bases his argument on the culmination of several
unconnected circumstances; the death of Yeats, the
publication of Eliot's Quartets which virtually con-
cluded Eliot's poetry; Ezra Pound's politics and
arrest, Auden's departure for America, and the more
tangentially still, the deaths of Virginia Woolf and
James Joyce.

Be this as it might, obviously the war itself
constituted a fundamental division, Spirituelly and
poetically. The six years of war imposed a signifi-
cant social division between the characteristics of
pre and post-war poetry.

The writers who became the chief figures in this
literary reaction and the innovators of the new style =

were poets such as Dylan Thomas, Christopher Fry,

George Barker, Henry Treece and David Gascoyne,

 

20 G. S. Fraser, The Modern Writer and His World
(London, 1953), p 267.

 

#59
followed by the younger poets, Terence Tiller and
Laurie Lee. ror all their apparent dissimilarity
they exhibit, in common, a sensuous delight in words,
a kind of florid, baroque superfluity of style. This
gives a richer more ornate surface texture to their
work. They reject the spare harsh.diction of the
thirties and avoid such.a! the technical experiment
that had enlivened that decade. Some, like Gsscoyne,
even sought brief refuge in the surrealist movement.
Their subJect matter too exhibits a change towards a
more acknowledgedly "romantic“ inspiration deriving
some of its original impulse from the very influences
which the "pylon poets” had so decisively rejected.21
These poets consciously avoid both the characteristic
features and the weaknesses of the poetry of the
thirties. They reject the cclloquialisms and the
avoidance of words with "literary” associations: they
resist the tempting throb of the Jazz theories and socio-
economic anelysis. Their change of poetic ideal includes

an increasing emphasis on personal theses,.

 

W

211s this.regsrd it is interesting to see the
some assertion from the other side of the
argument. Elizabeth Ritchie writing en
essay on Romantic poetry asserts the
Romantic influence on the post-Auden poetic
generation. I. hitchie, 'Porn in Romantic

Tmrp.'. ‘ 0 no 3, ’ p. O

460

a repudiation of political engagement which seems to them
such a fallacious, pointless and essentially non-poetic
interest. A minor young poet, Derek Stanford, makes his
typical declaration on this issue:

In an age of mass production we do not intend

to churn out exact reproductions of all the

inane realities before us. Between the fulfill-

ment of the dream and the frustration of so much

drab living we have tried to see our subject

through a higher grgan than the visual eye, namely

the imagination.2

It is not possible nor desirable to exhibit a "movement“
here; it is enough to indicate a tendency which becomes
quite obvious if one examines the poems in any recent
literary magazine and then refreshes one's memory by re-
reading some of the Little Reviews like ng Writing which
are so completely typical of the style of the mid-thirties.

This general observation is clearly supported by the
editor of the recent collection of verse from which I took
the Donald Davie poem as one example. Robert Conquest,
discussing the standpoints of these young poets in his
introductory essay, writes:

If one had briefly to distinguish the poetry of

the fifties from its predecessors, I believe that

the most important general fact would be, that it

submits to no general system of theoretical con-

cepts, no agglomeration of unconscious commands.

It is empirical in its attitude to all that comes.23
The poetess Elizabeth Jennings in her collection of verse

written between 1940 and 1960 makes a similar observation

Ag

22D. Stanford, The Freedomgof Poetry (London, 1947), p. 23.

23R. Conquest’edt,flew Lines (London, 1956), p. XV.

461
about this distinction, though her emphasis is different.
She sees the period as one in which the poets sought some
alternative to the flux and chaos cf the inter-war years;
they searched for security and order after the maelstrom.

The most marked characteristic of the period... is

a sense of order, an urge to clarity, a leaning ‘

towards formal perfection. Poetry has become a

gesture of defiance, a plea for cider in a universe

of confusion and man-made chaos.2

Edwin Muir from a rather more critical viewpoint, also
observes the division and makes the comment that recent
poetry appearsin lack challenge and bite if considered
against the heartfelt rhetoric of the thirties.

Critics whose idea of poetry was formed in the

thirties regard contemporary poetry with disappoint-

ment because it is diggerent and because it is
strangely unexciting.

But the dating process goes on inexorably. Even
Hoggart who yields to no one in his critical admiration
of Auden has to admit that some of his work has already
suffered from a dating in the face of both political and
poetic change. What has been called in this context Auden's
"camphorous"whiff" is described a little petulantly by

Hoggart e

 

243.

Jennings An Anthology of flgdern Verse 1940-1960
(London, 19 15, p. .

25Edwin Muir, Images 9: Tgmsrzow (London, 1950), p. 143.

‘

 

462

New Signatures and New Country have a strong

period flavour. Both these anthiogies looked

back at from across the war years seem as dated

as the Yellow Book, and the nostalgia which the

reading of them can produce is probably similar

to that which the earlier collection induced in

our uncles. Part of the regret is for adolescence

in a period when enemies seemed conveniently well-

defined, and which had behind all the excited

denunciation a sense of "history on the move",

a sense still of progress agd that through a

fairly clear-cut struggle.2 {

On young poets today the influence of the writers I
have been discussing is probably at its minimum, partly
perhaps because so much of the change they achieved is
taken so completely for granted. With the possible excep-
tion of the revalued Auden, these posts are now in the
twilight. They have lost the admiration they received
once for their revolutinnary crusading zeal, and they
have not yet reached that turgid status which the British
public reserves for its Grand Old Men of Literature figures.
At a time between these two extremes it should be possible
to offer a critical revaluation of these posts which will
assess what they arelwhat they achieved,rather than use them
as a convenient target for misguided political or literary
abuse. Between those who see the International Brigade
and its posts as crusaders before the holy citadel27 and
those who consider them at best as misguided fools producing

doggerel of questionable or discreditable sentiments, there

 

56R. Hoggart, Auden (London, 1951). p. 40.

27As Koestler put it:
A strange historical constellation had focussed
Spain into the symbolic position of the Holy
Land, and had endowed the struggle for Madrid

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#63
is hardly likely to be any agreement; yet it is surely
possible to attempt a critical evaluation of the writing
of the period without feeling the necessity of taking
either extreme position. I hope that I have placed in a
new light the quality and significance of the radical
poetry of the thirties. The results of my analysis may
also go some way toward explaining the reason why so little
significant war poetry was written from 1939-45. The truth
seems to be that the poets had exhausted their emotional
response to the moral issues of the World war when they
had written about Spain. Spender sums up this fact from
his own experience.

If one wants to know why there was no poetry of

the last war comparable to that of the 1914-18

war, the answer is that the poetry of the war of

democracy versus fascism had already been written

by French, English.and Spanish poets during the

Spanl 3h War e 2
This knowledge makes the work of the inter-war poets even
more significant since they are not writnng of a ”rehearsal”
but about the human issues which.made World War II both
inevitable and honest. It is a realization of the continuity
of their moral position that best exposes the super-
ficiality of the dismissal usually offered by unthinking

literary critics. A typical generalization in a popular

 

57continued from previous page.
with the emotional content of the massacres for the
Holy Sepulchre. (Scum of the Earth, p. 120), Tie

28 S. Spender, The Creative Ima' net in the H ld
Dad-3 9 “on ‘ . 1

      

464

brief literary history evaluates these poets in this way:

Writers and the work of the period when sifted by

posterity will, in all probability, be valued in pro-

portion to the degree in which they looked beyond

the disturbances of their own period.29
The mathematical “in proportion to the degree” and the
assumption that the fatuous word "disturbances" is adequate
to express the crises of the inter-war years is not only
poor in itself, but ignores the whole validity of this
poetry. The point of my argument has been to indicate that
when the major work of this period does have significance
it owes its force largely to the events which provoked it,
events whose moral issues challenged all writers inescap-
ably, and that these concerns of their period areequally
of our own.

No changing political reorientations, no change in
poetic styles and techniques can damage the significance
and validity of what they felt when they wrote, nor the
capacity of this poetry to affect us, not historically, but
with immediate relevence. The moral issues that concern these
posts should preoccupy us today as much as they did thirty
years ago, for their idealistic belief in compassionate
Justice is not transient but a continuously elevating social
principle. Perhaps our present view of the mood of this era

is best indicated by the nostalgic humor of a recent New
Statesman competitor who, in a parody that sums up an epoch,

wrote: Breathes there a man with soul so dead

Who was not in the thirties a Red?

 

55W. H. Budson, A History of English Literature (London,
1955), p. 218.

 

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SELECTE BIBLIOGRAPHY

Critical Background and Method

Charques, R. M., Contemporary Literature and the
Social Revolution (LOndon, 1922).

Daiches, D. A.. Critical Approach to Literature
(London, 1956).?Essay, The Sociological
Approach).

" " Literary Essays (London, 1956).
- (The New Criticism - Some Qualifications).

Farrell, J. T., Reflections at Fifty (London, 1956).
TESsay, Sorme Observations on Lit. and
Sociology)

n ASphodcl (London 1949)-

;\ ommo
TEssay, Poetry anquolitics).

Leavis, F. R., The Comron Pursuit (London, 1952).
‘ay, Literature and Society)

rs)
[1]
(l3

1

Lehman, J., The Open Night (London, 1952).
TEssay, The Poet and the Modern Wor ld).

 

MacNeil-Dixon, W., An Apology for the Arts (London,
1955).(Essay, Poetry and National
Character).

Muir, Edwin, Essays on Literature and Society (London,
1949).(The Political View of Literature
pp.133-144).

O'Connor, W. Van, Sense and Sensibility in Modern Poetry
TChicago 195B);(Ch. VI, The Political
Emphasis).

Hideout, W. B., The Pblitlcal Novel in the U. S. 1900-ifi
(Cambridge, Mass. 1955i
(Essay, The Interrelation of Literature
and Society).

Schucking, L., The Sociology of Literary Taste (London,
19§IL

Trilling, L., The Literary Imagination (London, 1942)
TE ssay, The Sense of the Past).

-b-
(J\
kn

r r
{#1: r;

Wilson, F., The Triple Thinker (Oxford, 1958).
TEssay, The Historical Importance of Liter-
e)

Anthologies and Collections of the Period
Allot, K., Contemporary Verse (London, 1950).
Baker, D. Val., Little Reviews Anthology (London, 1940)-
Day Lewis, G., A New Anthology of Modern Verse 1920-40
(London, 1941);
Chatto Book of Modern Poetry (London, 1956).

Grigson, G., Poetry of the Present (London, 1949).

Heath-Stubbs, J., Faber Book of 20th Century Verse
(London, 19551.

Jennings, E., An Anthology of Mgdern Verse 1940-60
(London, 1961i

Lehmann, J., Poems from New Writing 1936-41 (London, 1948).
Nurphey, G., The Modern Poet (London, 1938).
Peschman, H., The Voice of Poetry 1930-50 (London, 1950).

Roberts, D. K., The Year's Poetry (Annually eSpec. 1934a
‘33)—London.

Roberts, M., New Signet res (London, 1
New Country (London, 1933L
se

 

Smith, J. A., Poems of Today (London, 1935).

Spender, 8., Poems for Spain (London, 1938).

Significant Magazines:

Left Review, edit. M. Slater 1934-38.

New Verse, Edit. G. Grigson 1933-39 (Nov. 1937 concerns
Auden).

New Writing, Edit. John Lehman 1936-45.
Wind and Rain,
Poetry, London.
Penguin Parade.

Roberts, M. "A check List of Recent English Books of Verse."
1931-36. Poctrv, XLIX Jan. 1937, p. 231-236.

f0

4'.

Memoirs and Comments of the Period.

Aaron, D., Writers on the Left (New York, 1961).

Acton, H. B., The Illusion of the Enoch (London, 1955).
Auden, W. _t ;l Letters in Red (London, 1933).
Churchill, W., The GatheringgStorm (London, 1948)'

Connolly, C., Enemies of Promise (London, 1938).

Crossman, R. H., edit3,The God that Failed (New York, 1949).
Goldring, D., The 19203 (London, 1945).

Graves, R. and Hodges, N. A., The Long Week-End
(London, 1940).

Greenwood, W., How the Other Man Lives (London, 1939).
Grigson, G., The Crest of Silver (London, 1950).
Isherwood, C., Lions and Shadows (London, 1938).
Kemp, P., Mine Were of Trouble (London, 1957).
Koestler, A., Arrow in the Blue (London, 1952).
Invisible Writing (London, 1954).
Scum of the Earth (London, 1938).
Lehmann, J., The WhiSperingGalleryy(London, 1955)'

Lewis, C. D., edit The Mind in Chains (London, 1937)-

9
Macintosh, J., The Paths that Led to War (London, 1955).
iowat, C. L., Britain Between the Wars (London, 1955).
Muggeridge, M., The Thirties (1940).

Orwell, G., Road to wigan Pier (London, 1937).

Homage to Catalonia (London, 1938)
England their England (London, 1953),

CD

Payne, 3., editv The Civil War in pain (New York, 1962).

Riding, L., edit. The Left Heresy in Literature and Life
(London, 1939).

1'1 f f)

Rust, N., Briton in Spain (London, 1939).
Symons, J., The Thirties (London, 1960).
Thomas, H., The Spanish Civil War (London, 1961).

Thompson, E. P., edit. Out of Apathy (London, 1960).

)
Thomson, G., Marxism and Poetry (London, 1945).
Trevelyan, J., Indigo Days (London, 1956).
Upward, E., Journey to the Border (London, 1938).

Warner, 3., The Wild Goose Chase (London, 1937)'

Wood, N., Communism and the British Intellectual

(New York, 1959 .

21’ . H . A ud en

 

Works

 

Poetry
Poems (London, 1930).

Poems (London, 1933; New York, 1934),

 

Orators (London, 1932)

Look! Stranger (1936),(In U. S. On This Island New York,

1937).

Letters from Iceland (with Louis MacNeice) (London, 1937),

 

Spain (London, 1937).

Journey to a War (with Chris. Isherwood) London and N. Y.
1939.

Another Time (London and New York, 1940).

 

New Year Letter (London, 1941).(In U. S. The Double Man,
N. Y. 1941.)

 

 

 

 

For the Tire Pain: (New York, 1944; London, 1945).
The Age of Anxiety (New York, 1947; London, 1948).
Nones. (London and New York, 1951)-

The Shield of Achilles (New York, 1955).
The Old Man's Road (New York, 1956).

Homage to Clio (New York and London, 1960).
Collected Poetry (New York, 1945).
Collected Shorter Poems 1930-44 (London, 1950).

Piers

The Dance of Death (London, 1935).

The Dongeneath the Skin (with C. Isherwood) London, 1935.

The Ascent of F 6 (with Isherwood)(London, 1936; New York,
1937,)

On the Frontier (with Isherwood) London, 1938.
Prose
The Enchafed Flood (New York, 1950).
Knowing_and Judging (Oxford, 1956).
The Dyer's Hand (New York, 1962).
Criticism

Beach, J° W. The Raking of the Auden Canon (Minneapolis,
19557-

Callen, E. A. An Annotated Check List of the Works of
w. H. Auden (Denver, 1958).

Hoggart, R. Auden (London, 1950; New Haven, 1951).

Scarfe, F. W. H. Auden (Monaco, 1949).

 

Spears, M. K. The Poetry of W. E. Auden (New York, 1963).

0. Day Lewis
Works
Poetry

Pe

(D

chen Vigil (London, 1925).

 

CountrxiComets (London, 1928).

Transitional Poem (London, 1929).

From Feathers to Iron (London, 1931).

The Magnetic Mountain (London, 1933).

A Time to Dance (London, 1935).

Collected Poems 1939-33, (London, 1936)o

Overtures to Death (London, 1938).) '

) Published in U. S. as

Poems in Wartime (London, 1943). ) Short is the TimeJNew
. York, 1945.

Word Over All (London, 1943).

Poems 1943-47, (London, 1948).
An Italian Visit (London, 1953),
Collected Poems 1929-54, (London, 1956).
Pegasus (London, 1957% (New York, 1958).
The Gate (London, 1963).
Play
Noah and the Waters (London, 1936).
Prose and Critical Writing
Neire Not Going To Do Nothing (Pamphlet) (London, 1935).
A Hope for Poetry (Oxford, 1934).
The Poetic Image (London, 1947).
The Poet's Task (Oxford, 1951).
The Poet's Way of Knowledge (Cambridge, 1957).

Th

(D

Buried Day, (London, 1960).
Criticism

Dymant, C. 0. Day Lewis (London, 1955).

Louis MacNeice
Works
Poetry
Blind Fireworks (London, 1929).
Poems 1935 (London, 1935) (New York, 1937).
Letters from Iceland (with N. H. Auden) (London, 1937).
The Earth Compells (London, 1938).
Autumn Journal (London, 1939, New York, 1940)-

Springboard,_Poems 1941—44 (London, 1944, New York, 1945).

1:75

Poems 1935—40 (New York, 1940).

Plant and Phantom (London, 1941).

Holes in the Sky, Poems 1944-47 (London, 1948).
Ten Burnt Offering (London, 1952).

Autumn Sequel (London, 1954).

Visitations (London, 1958).

Collected Poems 1995-1948 (London, 1949).

Solstices (New York, 1961).

 

The Burning Perch (London, 1963).
Prose

Modern Poetry (Oxford, 1938).

 

Subject in Modern Poetry), Essays and Studies (Oxford,

1937).

I Crossed the Finch (London, 1938).

 

 

Christopher Columbus (London, 1944).
The Dark Tower (London, 1947).

Out of the Picture (New York, 1938).

Stephen Spender

 

Poetry
Twenty Poems (Oxford, 1929).
Pgemg (London, 1933, New York, 1934).
Vienna (London, 1934, New York, 1935).
The Still Centre (London, 1939).

Ruins and Visions (London, 1942).

Poets of Dedication (London, 1942, and New York, 1947)-

 

Return to Vienna (New York, 1947).

'15, (London, 1949).

Poems 1950-53 (London, 1954).

Collected Poems 1928-53, (London and New York, 1955).
Plays

Trial of a Judge (London, 1938).
Prose and Critical Writings

The Destructive Element (London, 1935, Boston, 1936)-

Torward from Liberalism (Lcndon and New York, 1937).

 

‘.U.’

The new Realism (London, 1939).
The Creative Imagination in the World Todgy (London, 1940).
Life and the Poet (London, 1942).

“LerDea.

g

‘..T
. 1

*4.

tness (London, 1946)-

*3

L

Poetry Since 1939 (London, 1946)0

Reflections on our Age (London, 1948)-

 

World Within World (London and New York, 1951)-

The Creative Element (London, 1953, New York, 1954).

 

Th- Making of a Poem London, 1955).

ngaged in Writing (1958).

[1:1

The Imagination in the Modern World (Washington, D.C.,
1962).

The St uggle of the Modern (Berkeley, California).

Edited

...

Poems for Spain (London, 1939).

General Literary Criticism of the Writing of
The Period.

pi irit (London, 1958) (called
ellcnce in the U.S., New York,

Alvarez, A., The Shaping
Stewards of

1958).

Aldridge, J. W., After the Lost Generation (New York,
1951).

Baker, D. V., edit.,Writers of Today, (London, 1950).

[U (I)

 

Bateson, Envlish Poetry, A Critical Introduction (London,
1943).

Bayley, J. The Romantic Survival (London, 1953).

 

Bethell, S. L. The Literary Outlook (London, 1943).

Bowra, C. M., Background of Modern Poetry (London, 1946).

 

Brenner, R., Poetry of Our Tin e (New York, 1941).

rn Poetry and the Tradition (London,

.7

The Well-wrought Urn (London, 1947).

Brooks, 0.,

(0 2D

d
E

«)6

Bullough, G., The Trend of Modern Po tgy (London, 1949).

 

Bush, D., Science and Enqli h Poetry 1890 0-1959 (Oxford,
1950)-

Caudwell, G., Illusion and Reality (London, 1937).

Collins, A. 8., English Literature of the Twentieth
Century (London, 1951)-

Connolly, C., Enemies of Promise (London, 1939).

H T
1

“)5
£40

Condemned Play-ground 1927- 44 (London,
6).

Cowley, N., The Literary Situation (London, 1954).

Currey, R. N., Poets of the 1939—45 War (London, 1960),
deSola Pinto, V., Crisis in English Poetry(London, 1951)-
Daiches, D., Literature and Society (London, 1938)-

Poetry and the hodern‘World (Chicago, 1940)o
The Present Age after 1920 (London, 1958).

Deutsch, B,, This Modern Poetgy (London, 1938).
Poetry in Our Time (New York, 1956).

 

Drew, 3., Directions In Modern Poetry (New York, 1940).

Dobree, L., The Broken Cistern (London, 1954).

 

Durrell, L., The Key to Modern Poetry (London, 1952).

Eastman, N., The Enjoyment of Poetry (New York, 1954).

 

Evans, B. 1., English Literature Between the Wars

‘(London, 1948).

Literature and Science (London, 1954).
Fraser, G. S., The Modern Writer and his World (London,

ijign and Rhetoric (London, 1960).

Geismar, N., Writer in Crisis (London, 1947).
Heath-Stubbs, J., Images of Tomorrow (London, 1950).
Hamilton, G. R., The Tell-Tale Article (London, 1950).
Heller, E., The Hazard of Modern Poetry (London, 1951).

Henderson, P., Studies in Contemporary Attitudes (London,

195 37v

I The Poet an Society (London, 1939).

 

Hoffman, F. J., American Writing in the Post—War Decade
(New York, 1949).

Jameson, 8., The Writer's Situation (London, 1950).

 

 

 

 

Kerr, M. J., %udies in Literature and Belief (LondOn,
Leavis, F. R., 19NgizoBearings in English Poet:y (London,
Levy, R., Liter;€irg for an Age of Science (London, 1952).
Lindsay, J., Persgective for Poetry (London, 1944).

After the Thirties (London, 1956).

 

Mander, J., The Writer and Commitment (Philadelphia, 1962).

Nattiessen, F. 0., The Responsibility of the Critic
(Oxford, 1953).

McCormick, J., Cst~ctronre and Izlacinetion (London, 1950).
Moore, N.,‘Predelictions (London, 1956).

kuir, E., The Present Age (London, 1952).

 

Nicholson, N., Van end Literature (London, 1943).

O'Connor W. V., Sense and S sibility in chern Poetry,
#1 ‘ I
V

Palmer, H., Post Victorian Poetry (London, 1933).

Pottle, F. A., The Ides of Poetry (Ithaca, 1946).

 

Powell, D., Descent from Parnsss us (London, 1934).
Press, J., The Fire and the Fountain (Oxford, 1954)-

" Rule end Energy (Oxford, 1963).

 

$11

ead, H., Poetry_and Anarchy (London, 1938).
" Phases of English Poetry (London, 1950).

Hahv, P., Image and Idea (New York, 1957).

 

Rexroth, K., The New British Poets (New Haven, 1949).

 

Roberts, N., The Modern Mind (London, 1937).

Rooney, W. J. The Problem of PoetrL and Belief ’n Contem-
porary Criticism (”isnlnbton, 1949 .

Ho se nthel, H. L., The Modern Posts (New York, 1960).
ROSS! A'! Poetry lgfi5'50 (London, 1951)0

Routh, H. V.,; onzlish Literature s
entur [ (London, 194:

Savage, D. S., The Personal Principle (London, 1944).

Scarfe, P., Auden and After (London, 1942).

 

Schlaugh, N., Modern en, canigues and

? oe : Te
Iieolo; es (London,1956).

 

Scott, G., Time and Place (London, 1953).

 

Scott, James R., F ty Years c9 Prglish Litersture (London,
1 1

if
95 )

Sergeant, R., Tradition and the inking of Poetry (London,
1951):

Shapiro, K., In Defense of Ignorance (New York, 195?),

Shelton, R., The P1eti Pattern (Berkeley, 1956).
Southworth, J., Sowing the Spring (Oxford, 1940).

Stanford, D., The Freedom of Poetr* (London, 1947),

 

Stauuenn, R., Awericen Liteieture in the 90th Century
(London, 19Eg).
Strong, L. A. G., Personal Remarks (London, 1953).

 

eorgien Literary Scene 1910135

Swinnerton, F., T G
(Ltndon, 1933).

otters in the Modern World (London,

3
5
o
H)
t4

T;3te’ A0, TL;—
1r'

Thwaite, A., Contemnorernynjlish Poetry (Tokyo, 1957).

Tindqle, W. Y., Forces in No

Tschumi, R., Thought in 20th Century British Poetry
(London, 1951).

Ward, A. 3., The 19e03 (London, 1930).

Wells, H. W., New Poets from Old (London, 1QAO).

fiestlend, 3., Contemporary Literature (London, 1950).

Wilder, A., ne Spiritual Aspects of the New Poetry
-e

T1
(E w York, 1950);

Selected Critical Articles
Beech, J. W. "The Poems of Auden and the Pr ee Diathesus"

Virrinin Quarterly Review {XI (Summer, 1949% 365—383.

 

Ereybrooke, N. "W. H. Auden: The Road from harx"
America, LXXKVIII (larch 21, 1953))680-1.

rooPs, 3., "The Poetry of W. H. Auden" Nineteenth Century
CILI (Jen.1 1W1?) 30—40.

Brown, S. G. "Some Poems of Louis MacNeice" Sewdnee Review
LI (winter, 1943) 62— 72.

Cowley M. "Auden in America", New Republic CIV (April 7,
1941),473-4. .

" "S pender, Auden and After" New Reoutlic CVII

 

(Oct. 5, 1942),
" "Virtue and Virtuosity: Notes on W.H. Auden"
Poetry LXV (Jan. 1945% 202-209.
Deiches, D. "I.H. Auden: the Search for a Public"
Poetry, LIV, (June, 1939% 48-56.

Enright, D. J. 'Peluct int Admiretion: A note on Auden and

’Pilflce" ‘Esssivszzin

 

y Criticism, II (April, 1952))19o—195.
Gillett, Eric "Two Poets: Campbell and Auden", National

 

and English Review, (July, 1952))136—140.

Glicksberg, C. I. "Poetry and Karxismv, university 0

Toronto Quer erly VI (April, 1937))309-325-

 

"Poetrye nd the Social Revolution",

D? lhou: ies Revie .VII (Jan. 1938 ) 493-503.

 

Gedsen K. W. "Rebeh end Time Servers" Twentieth
9 ’

Century (March, 1957)-

Griffin, H. "3. Dialogue with w. H. Auden" Hudson
Review III (Winter, 19515 575-591.

Hauserman, H. W. "Left-Wing Poetry, a Note", En*lish
Studies XXI (Cot. 19325 203-213. I

Isherwood, C. "Some Notes on Auden's Early Poetry ,
Kew Verse 27. (Nov. 1937% 4-9. A

Jerrell, n. A. "Freud to Paul: The Stages of Auden's

 

Ideology." P rtisen Review XII (Full. 1245% 437—u57.

 

" "Changes of Attitude and Rhetoric in

Auden's Poetry," Southern Review VII (Autumn, 1941b

 

“3490

LA

3?

Lechlitner, n. "The Odyssey of Auden", Poetrv LXVI
(July, 1945),204—215.

Mmiens, D. "The Poet and the Revolution," Horizon VIII
(July, 1943))55-69. L

Reed, H. "W.H. Auden in America", New Writing end Daylight)
edit. J. Lehmnnn (London, 1945).

Roberts, M. "Aspects of English Poetry: 1032-37" Poetry
XLIL (Jen. 1937),21o-217.

Roth, R. "The SOphistication of W. H. Auden," Modern
Philology XLVIII (Feb. 1951% 193-204.

Savage, D. S. "The Poet's Perspectives," Poetry LXIV
(June, 1944).

Spee‘s, M. K. "The Dominant Symbols of Auden's Poetry,"
The Sewenee Review LIX (Sept. 1951% 392-425.

1

' . .
' "Late Auden: Satirist as Lunatic Clergymen,‘

The Sewenee Review LIX (March, 1951i 50-74.

Spender, S. "W. H. Auden and His Poetry," Atlantic ChoII
(July. 1953% 74-79.
Stauffer, D. A. "Which Side am I Supposed to Be On? The

Search For Belieis in Auden's Poetry", Vireinia

Quarterly Review XXLI (Autumn, 1945l’570-90.

 

."V ' ,0 r 7 o . “
Symons, J. 'Louls Racheice: The Artist as averyman,"

Poetry LVI (May, 1940L 86-94,

Whittridge, A. "English Poetry and the Spanish War,"

 

Delhounie Review XIX (January, 1940))456z466.
Zabel, M. D. "The Poetry of Unrest", Pootrv (May, 1937)
no-9é

”The Purposes of Stephen Spender", Poetry

XLV (Jan. 19351,2cs—213.

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