EDMUND BLUNDEN and IVOR GURNEY J Edmund Blunden Enli.Sted in 1914
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CHAPTER SIX EDMUND BLUNDEN AND IVOR GURNEY J Edmund Blunden enli.sted in 1914. His war poetry is hard to characterize in that like his poetry as a whole it does not have c0- hering themes, in the strict sense, so much as contexts and specific experiences. He writes of nature and war I or rather, of events within a rural pattern. Nature is made to contain war, as best it can, as the sanative framework of a:J. otherwise disrupting experience. War impinges on him in a more specific way than nature does and, to this extent, it is more deliberately examined. He sees it as a dis rupting force, not merely because it is so intrinsically, but because it interferes with his fruitful contact with nature. Nature provides that kind of assuring context that religion provides for some. In answer to Faustus's question IHow comes it, then, that thou art out of hell?' Mephistophilis replies, 'Why, this is hell, nor am lout of it.' Absence from 'the race of God' is hell and only an experience such as war could exile the poet from nature as Mephistophilis is exiled from God. Siegfried Sassoon maintained in conversation that Blunden is the surviving poet of the war most lastingly obsessed by it; a fact perhaps anticipated by Blunden himself in his epigraph to Undertones of War (1928). He quotes Bunyan: 'Yea, how they set themselves in battle-array I shall remember to my dying day.' On the other hand, Blunden had seen even before the war a haunted and fearful aspect in nature. The war intensified this awareness and made more complex the relation between war and malign nature. Leavis, in the chapter of NefP Bearing! (1932) entitled 'The Situation at the End of the First World War" writes that Tile ShepAerti, Mr BlundeR's first mature book of verse, marked him out from the crowd as a poet who, though he wrote about the country. drew neither upon The Shropshire uti nor upon the common stock of Georgian country sentiment. There was also in his poems, for all their rich rusticity, the homc-spun texture that is their warrant, a frank literary quality .... out of the traditional life of the English countryside, J. Silkin, Out of Battle © Jon Silkin’s estate 1998 Edmund Blu""," 103 especially as relived in memories of childhood, Mr Blunden was creating a world-a world in which to find refuge from adult distresses; above aU, one guessed, from memories of the war.•.• There [is] something satis fying about the dense richness of his pastoral world .... He was able to be, to some purpose, conservative in technique, and to draw upon the eighteenth century, because the immemorial rural order that is doomed was real to him. Leavis of course brings to sight not merely the relation between rurality and war. as Blunden used it, but [he relation of the rural order to urban civilization. To assess accurately the war's impact upon him and his poems, we must first establish what the country meant to him. Blunden's 'country' was the South. He was born in London in 1896, but the family moved subsequently to Yalding in Kent. Kent and Sussex are his counties, an area of few dramatic contours and a . quietness matched by that of his poems. The 'frank literary quality' that Leavis detects in his poems is perhaps related to the encroach ing urbanization, more advanced in the South than in the North. Despite the industrialization of the last hundred and fifty years, the North retains a stronger hold on the doomed rural order. Poets without Blunden's solidity tend to draw a false antithesis between urban evil and rural innocence-hath distonions-adopting a crude version of Darwinism which they invert by assening that, despite the claims of utilitarianism, the more society becomes industrialized the further it regresses. Clearly, neither this 'golden age' syndrome nor its opposite is true, since progress, if we can at all speak of it, consists in our development in human relations which technology mayor may not serve, but which in any case has no absolute or necessary connection with them. I do not mean to imply that all we associate with the rise of capitalism has not a fundamental connection with social relationships; but I do mean that our formularization of social relations, our moral beliefs, are not dependent on our technological eX'pertise. The millennium, however, is always elsewhere. Such debased and materialistic Darwinism is essentially prospective, pastoralism retrospective. And pastoralism is an earlier ruralism peopled with deities and pietistic shepherds j the society itself innocent of evil. The pre-Iapsarian state is reset to pre-date the Industrial Revolution, which pastoralism, at its most extreme, sees as both the fruit of its own evil and a punishment of future societies. Of course, neither Out of Battle pastoralism nor utilitarianism apprehends the present except as corroborative evidence for its own case, and such prejudices drastically limit a serious understanding of the present and its relation to rural life. Blunden himself identifies the problem of ruraltife in its relations with an urban society in his essay 'Country Poets) (1954): 'But to many of us the ultimate question is whether or not the tradition (of country poets) is dead .... The verse is the thing, not the circumstances of its production.) Not quite so, surely) for the circumstances of its production would be bound up with the kind of relations a man has with rural life. Seamus Heaney's first book, Death of a Naturalist (1966), makes precisely the right point in that, whereas his father's generation was connected with the land because they farmed it, he has a naturalist's concern; he is an observer of, and perhaps an inquirer into, nature, but he does not depend on it for his livelihood. His connection with it is less intimate. Blunden's difficulty as a poet, inasmuch as he is a poet of nature or uses nature as the propulsion for his feelings, lies precisely here. And this may provide an even more profound reason for the literary quality in some of his perceptions of nature. The difficulty works in two directions. It is not merely his con nection that is not vital, as a farmer's is. The audience he could count on to read his poetry was also either urban or composed mainly of people who had a 'natunlJist's' connection with nature. Even in his own youth rural society was in decay, and urban society could at best only 'see' nature. If Edward Thomas's remarks about contemporary nature verse are taken in conjunction with the verse itself, it may more clearly be seen that the customary response to nature was one of civilized euphoria, in that the pleasures of nature confirmed the agreeable notion that here at Jeast was something that gave man innocent pleasure. It was not until the middle classes and working classes had been thoroughly urbanized that the 'stripes on the tulip' were once again 'numbered'. Although the meticulous detail in Thomas's poems and some of Blunden's is perhaps in pan a result of the urbanizing process. The subject cannot even be left rhere, for one aspect ofBiunden's rurality employs not the observer but the eye of the distant urban society, as it derived its rural joy through the filter of a taste that edited its sensuous responses into some form of decorative painting before these responses could be more freshly and directly made. Thus, in 'The Gods of the Earth Beneath', written when Blunden Edmund Blunden 105 was already on the Western Front, the nature of observed detail co--exists with this stylized and partly even eighteenth...c;entury version of nature: Emmets and lizards, hollow-haunting wads, Adders and tffets, ground wasps ravenous .. •. Blunden has here woven the 'agreeable' and the melancholic grotesque together into a complex structure. And even if it is nature selected into a particular kind of picture, 'groundwasps ravenous' feels observed-despite the inversion. The creatures are not described merely. for what they can contribute to pictorial artifice, but lend verisimilitude to an image of nature, here, one djvided and ruled by seven deities, This kind of conjunction, where folklore and concrete detail fuse, occurs when a poet is thinking carefully. But the frequent appearance (in this quite early poem) of stylized passages shows how Blunden could be drawn aside by the taste of the sophisticated eye; He thins frail gold for crowns of daffodil, And inlays silver leaves for ladysmocks. With rubies in his palace underground Windowed, to let the cavern's twilight in; Of alabaster are his buttresses, Of pallid mica are his little doors •••• 'Of alabaster are ...' has the tone of a Shakespearian song articu lated, in this instance, for the purpose of inducing a belief or re sponse to the fanciful; nature has here become the ornament of the wealthy collector. On the other hand, only a sophisticated mind could take the fancy but drop the factual basis of 'Of his bones are coral made'. Blunden's fines are inlaid with a Pre-Raphaelite liking for simple colours and a decorative strangeness. The se<::tion in Blunden's Poems 1914-30 called 'War: Impacts and Delayed Actions', which is perhaps a reference to delayed shock from the experience, contains most of his war poems. Yet, describing them as 'war poems', one thinks of them as different from Sassoon's. Blunden seems to need to keep nature present, which inevitably produces some distortions. But the war is equally omnipresent, and we may see how he evaluates it by seeing how he evaluates the for him---contrasting context of nature, in three extracts from Untkrtones of War: J06 Out of Battk Was it on this visit to Etaples that some of us explored the church-a fishing-village church-and took tea comfortably in an inn? Those tendemesses ought not to come, however dimly, in my notion of Etaplcs.