Geoffrey Hill's Expostulations on the Volcano and the Poetic.

The one quality that I share with the immortal William Cobbett is that I'm not in the least bothered by inconsistency. I think it's important for people to change their minds and this is why I preface most of the writing here with a 'provisional' and 'tentative' disclaimer. I have to report that whilst sunbathing this afternoon (newly discovered pastime), I started on the above sequence with the intention of paying it some attention instead of my previous dive-by reading.

A couple of years ago I went on at some length about how irredeemably bad the Oraclau collection was because its rhymes were both forced and wrong-footed. In fact I thought it was so bad that it shouldn't have been published, even though Hill has a line somewhere vowing to make his readers wince. I'd now like to retract this and confess my prior knee-jerk and unwarranted prejudice.

Up until now, I thought that Sir Geoffrey and I agreed on one fundamental point: the teaching of creative writing is a Very Bad Thing indeed. I now discover that we may agree on the Poetry problem. More than ever I have to state that what follows is exceptionally tentative and subjective and heavily influenced by my tendency to over-read when someone appears to agree with me.

A central plank of the Bebrowed position re the Poem is that it has for centuries been far too poetic, far too in love with its own lyrical flow. I've made this argument before and no doubt will do so again but today's speculation is whether Hill might (approximately) agree.

I have several items of evidence, each with specific flaws but, like a good conspiracy theorist, this isn't going to get in my way. I have to admit that I've only just started to pay attention to Expostulation having previously flicked through it, alighting on poems that caught my eye. This was a mistake, I should have remembered that it isn't helpful to read Hill in a piecemeal way. I've now started at the beginning and have noticed that 'themes' keep recurring and being expanded upon. One of these is the nature of The Poem. This is the end of the seventh poem in the sequence:

In stark of which, demand stands shiftless. Words
Render us callous the fuller they ring;
Stagger the more clankingly untowards;
Hauled to finesse in all manner of wrong:

Which is how change finds for us, long-lost one.
Oratory is pleading but not pledge;
Such haphazard closures of misfortune
Played by commandment on mechanic stage.

There are several things that I want to pull out from this. The first is this fuller ringing that render us callous. Words that ring in this way might be read as overly ornate or used for effect rather than content. It would therefore seem that this is a reasonable piece of evidence until we start to wonder about who 'us' might be. As with The Triumph of Love's view of poetry as a "sad and angry consolation" it is unclear whether this refers to the readers or the poets, or both. With regard to this passage I'm currently voting for the poets because the poetic bag of tricks can be used with great cynicism and more than a little dishonesty, I believe that this 'fits' better with the finessing of all manner of wrong.

The second verse's assertion about oratory is another, perhaps more tenuous, piece of evidence that I'd like to rely on. The pleading / pledging juxtaposition is worth some thought. I'm currently reading this to indicate that 'strong' poetry involves the commitment of the self to something, almost a formal commitment whereas the oratorical flummery that makes up most of The Poem is an act of persuasion rather than a statement of fealty.

My third piece of evidence is one of the sequences two dedications, it is Kate Lechmere's 1914 observation of Pound reading aloud: "Such a voice seemed to clown verse rather than read it". Now, clowning has been a strong element in much of Hill's work since The Triumph of Love and my re-consideration of the Oraclau sequence is because it may be an extended clowning with a more serious purpose. This may be to undermine the poetic and the tricks that it has by producing bad poems with even worse rhymes. Incidentally, I think it might be urgently essential to get the clown back into The Poem.

The other more general observation is that the Ludo collection of "Epigrams and Colophons to the Day Books" is, in part, 'about' playing and playfulness. There may or may not be an intentional connection between clowning and playing but I'm going to take it that there is. The clown in Western culture embodies both playful glee and a deep melancholy, presenting both of these for our entertainment. Hill's admiration for and usage of mid 20th century British comedy is perhaps also 'about' this dichotomy with comics popularly depicted as tragic figures- Frankie Howerd, Peter Sellers, etc etc.

The playful clown is also the improvising clown, the figure who plays for the sake of playing without any clear idea of objectives, a bit like the making of a poem.

My penultimate item is this from the end of Poem 9:

Justice is song where song is primitive 
As with poetics. Elsewhere more complex
Denouements, if folly can stay alive;
Innocence, if machination strum lax.

I'm not going to dive into the Hillian syntax of the last two lines but simply point to the observation that justice is song where The Poem is primitive i.e. before it got carried away with itself. There's also something here about the honesty of the primitive poem. Isn't there? I think I also need to point to the Justice / Innocence equation which seems to be a running thread through the later work but the addition of surviving folly into the mix is new to me.

My final link comes from Hill's introduction to his Annunciations which was published in the Penguin Book of Contemporary Verse from 1962:

I want to believe in: that poetry makes its world from the known world; that it has a transcendence; that it is something other than the conspicuous consumption (the banquet) that it seems to be.

What I say in the section is, I think, that I don't believe in the Word. The fact that I make the poem at all means that I still believe in words.

So, a degree of consistency, if I'm correct, going back over fifty years. I hope that the above has established a hint, if nothing more, of a sincere attempt to upturn at least part of the status quo, to make us wince (as he says elsewhere) in order to push us out of inertia, dumb acceptance, complacency. I find that I' also in total agreement with the principle of clowning the poem as a way of subverting the current malaise. I do however need to have another look at Oraclau.