Monday, 15 September 2014

Random Descents

I have been reading a lot of Wordsworth recently. I should be concentrating on his Duddon Sonnets, since it is this under-appreciated sequence that I have chosen as the primary focus for the research project I am working on at the moment, but I keep getting sidetracked. The visit to Lickey Hills had me leafing through The Prelude in pursuit of the 'spots of time' passage.

There are in our existence spots of time,
That with distinct pre-eminence retain
A renovating virtue, whence–depressed
By false opinion and contentious thought,
Or aught of heavier or more deadly weight,
In trivial occupations, and the round
Of ordinary intercourse–our minds
Are nourished and invisibly repaired;
A virtue, by which pleasure is enhanced,
That penetrates, enables us to mount,
When high, more high, and lifts us up when fallen.
 The Prelude, Book 12, ll. 208 - 218

What prompted the hunt is that I had a bit of a 'spots of time' moment myself as I wandered around the Lickey Hills. It set off a train of thought about the things I choose to record in 'field notes' and the the material that sparks off a response in poetry - the differing sources of inspiration for prose and poetry. 

Looking back over the field notes, these either take the form of straightforward reportage, or a more imaginative response written up as a semi-fictional 'derive'. Usually I choose the latter strategy if I wish to represent the place visited as an alienating environment, and the techniques of psychogeography lend themselves to representing the mundane as exotic, magical or disturbing; really it is a varient of magic realism, I think.

With poetry, often you don't feel quite so in control of the process. In some sense you are left with the impression that the poem has chosen you, rather than the other way round, it does not feel either rational or deliberate. Wordsworth's explanation is that such 'spots of time' are the result of experiencing the world at moments of high emotion or stress and the what we percieve at the time or shortly afterwards becomes in some way 'transfigured' and act later as a 'renovating virtue'. In the passage immediately following the one above he goes on to recount how after becoming lost as a boy on a wild moor, the fear the experience engendered caused his imagination to 'transfigure' the elements of the landscape:

Then, reascending the bare common saw
A naked pool that lay beneath the hills,
A beacon on the summit, and, more near
A girl, who bore a pitcher on her head,
And seemed with difficult steps to force her way
Against the blowing wind. It was, in truth,
An ordinary sight; but I should need
Colour and words that are unknown to man,
To paint the visionary dreariness
Which, while I looked all around for my lost guide,
Invested moorland waste, and naked pool,
The beacon crowning the lone eminence,
The female and her garments vexed and tossed
By the strong wind.
 ll.  248 - 261

I do not doubt that something of the sort does happen and that the places and scenes that we regard as significant may often be those that we are bonded to emotionally. But not always, sometimes vivid moments  seem to simply strike at random. Sylvia Plath captures this sense of inexplicable transformation in her poem Black Rook in Windy Weather.

...ignorant of whatever angel may choose to flare
Suddenly at my elbow. I only know that a rook
Ordering its black feathers can so shine
As to seize my senses, haul
My eyelids up, and grant

A brief respite from fear
Of total neutrality.

Unlike Wordsworth who found strength and consolation from such 'spots of time', Plath regards them as occassional interventions to relieve an existence which is otherwise mundane and meaningless:

With luck,
Trekking stubborn through this season
Of fatigue, I shall
Patch together a content

Of sorts. Miracles occur,
If you care to call those spasmodic
Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait's begun again,
The long wait for the angel,
For that rare, random descent.

Perhaps these 'spasmodic tricks of radiance' are not the result of perception, but a 'trick' of memory. In At Castle Boterel Thomas Hardy recalls an incident from the past when he and his wife had climbed the hill to the village years before. Now he climbs the hill alone, as she had recently died:

What we did as we climbed, and what we talked of
   Matters not much, nor to what it led, ―
Something that life will not be balked of
   Without rude reason till hope is dead,
         And feeling fled.
 
It filled but a minute. But was there ever
   A time of such quality, since or before,
In that hill’s story ? To one mind never,
   Though it has been climbed, foot-swift, foot-sore,
         By thousands more.
 
Primaeval rocks form the road’s steep border,
   And much have they faced there, first and last,
Of the transitory in Earth’s long order ;
   But what they record in colour and cast
         Is—that we two passed. 

What an astonishing use of hyperbole! Through all geological time the only thing that the rocks recorded were 'that we two passed' .  Through a startling assertion of solipsism, Hardy communicates the profoundity of his loss. In the final stanzas the poet reflects upon the vivid memory of his 'old love's domain' as the phantom figure of his lost love shrinks in the rain.
  
And to me, though Time’s unflinching rigour,
   In mindless rote, has ruled from sight
The substance now, one phantom figure
   Remains on the slope, as when that night
         Saw us alight.
 
I look and see it there, shrinking, shrinking,
   I look back at it amid the rain
For the very last time; for my sand is sinking,
   And I shall traverse old love’s domain
         Never again.

What links the three poems is the power of poetry to transform place, to evoke a transfigured locale. This is what 'voceti' seeks, but as Plath points out it is a 'long wait for the angel, a rare random descent'.

Friday, 12 September 2014

Political Landscapes, Benefit Street, actual streets and imaginary friends.

A beautiful summer's morning in late June - imagine you are in a glider floating high above the English countryside. it is perfectly still and almost silent, apart from distant traffic noise and the whoosh of invisible air-currents streaming across the aircraft's slender blade-like wings. Look down, what might you see? This perhaps?





Here, surely, is the modern mind-map of England, a patchwork of pasture, ploughed fields and woodland, criss-crossed by roads and railways, connecting ancient villages and market towns to the sprawling suburbia of great industrial cities. Flying back from abroad, the chequerboard of green, brown and grey is now an archetypal symbol of homecoming, much as the white cliffs of Dover were to our seafaring ancestors.

Here is a different aerial map of the same area:



Whereas the first map is a screen-shot from Google map's 'satelite view', the second is produced by Open Data Communities, an arm of the UK government's Office of National Statistics. Both show an area of Nottinghamshire around Mansfield, the northern starting point of the A38. The second map does not represent the physical landscape but a social one; it is a map of deprivation, with purple signifying poverty . 

If you ever worked in the public sector, 'Indices of Multiple Deptivation' will be familiar, but most people may not be aware of their existence or how the measures are used. The smallest political unit in English local government is a 'ward' (funny how that hospitalises the entire population). There are 32,482 wards in the country. The Office of National Statistics has ranked them using a cocktail of measures concerning health, educational attainment, crime, income and so on.  This index is used, to lapse briefly into civil service policy wonk speak, 'to target funding to the areas which most need it'. 

Mansfield, where the local economy has been devastated over recent decades by the demise of traditional industries should have benefited from targeted funding. The deprivation map shows this- a small area just southeast of Mansfield town-centre is shaded dark purple - the 50th most deprived neighbourhood in the country.. Put another way, 99.998% of wards in England are better off than these few streets in Mansfield. After a brief pang of guilt concerning 'poverty tourism', curiosity overcame my ethical qualms and I decided begin my journey down the A38 here.

What was I expecting? Something reminiscent of The Wire perhaps. I have driven through the poverty stricken southern suburbs of LA and Miami, and once managed to get lost at dusk in a run down area of Tampa. Here poverty was overt - boarded up single storey wooden houses, trashed shops, groups of young black guys just hanging-out, a few unsmashed streets lights glimmering in the dusk, on empty lots - full of "the skeleton frames of burned out Chevrolet's", as the song goes. The place oozed menace. 

By contrast, in Mansfield  deprivation is hidden. The housing is a mix of Victorian terraces and post-war council houses, a few unkempt, but  neat properties out-numbered the scruffy ones. There was litter, but no more so than in most urban areas. Some old mills looked abandoned, but others housed small businesses. The streets themselves were hardly pretty, and somewhat overshadowed by a concrete slab of an office block belonging to a BT technical unit. The area looked run-down rather than desperate. If understatement is one of our defining national traits, here, it seems we had managed to understate poverty. To mis-quote Roger Waters, "quiet deprivation is the English way".




The streets were empty when I arrived mid-morning. It was late January, clear, but chilly, hardly hanging about on  street corner weather. The more I wandered about, the more the the area's poverty did become more obvious. Not just the 'Second Hand City' warehouse, but the well signed 'Community Advice Shop' on the corner of Gladstone St which offered advice about benefits, debt management and health issues. Opposite was a place offering cash for old clothes by the kilogram. Other local businesses included two convenience stores, a takeaway, a hairdressers and a martial arts academy. The place did not seem to have a local pub. Maybe a few beers in front of the telly were all people could afford by way of socialising

I walked up the somewhat ironically named Recreation Street, skirted along the edge of  a 'green space' overlooking open countryside. There was still hardly a soul to be seen. The area mixed modernised terraces interspersed with council houses, some constructed pre-war - brick-built with a nod towards a municipal 'garden city' style - the remainder were more system-built, late 60s 'little boxes'. The place was within walking distance of the town-centre shops, yet close enough to fields for local kids to annoy nearby farmers by running riot, it was difficult for me to regard these streets as a bad place to grow up in; in fact, despite half a century having elapsed, it looked remarkably similar to the streets I grew up in.



However, though the estate felt familiar, the prospects for  people living in it had changed radically over the past 50 years. De-industrialisation has devastated towns like Mansfield, but unlike the poverty of inner cities, where concerns about immigration, policing, and multi-culturalism ensure urban social issues hit the news, the fate of impoverished English shire towns is largely ignored. Furthermore, all the dominating media narratives about poverty are urban based. 

As I wandered around the empty streets on the edge of Mansfield, Channel 4 had just broadcast the second episode of its documentary series 'Benefit Street'. Compared to the programme's instantly notorious James Turner Street in Birmingham, this area of Mansfield scored much worse in the 'Index of Deprivation' in the areas of employment, health, education and crime. 




Later, when I checked out the Channel 4 web-page for the programme it was difficult not to smile; due to the vagaries of 'ad feed' algorithms, an advert for the National Trust was juxtaposed right next to images of benefit dependency, you could hardly have imagined a better illustration of how we have simply accepted the reality of a divided Britain. 


As I walked back along Newgate Lane towards where I had parked the car, two teenage girls popped out of a terrace house across the street, they crossed the road in front of me and disappeared into a nearby newsagents. 




Startling as the Newsagent's sales pitch seems - 'Cheap Crisps, Cheap Sweets, Cheap Pop, Cheap Shop - especially sited next to a pawn-broker - the message is really just an extreme variant of  strap-lines of major supermarkets have adopted since the banking crash. Here we have a few of their recent adverts -





Monday, 9 June 2014

The River Duddon, A Series of Sonnets: Wordsworth’s Epic of Fancy - a re-reading

Wordsworth’s The River Duddon – A series of Sonnets, first published in 1820, form the opening work in the ‘third and last volume of the Author’s Miscellaneous Poems’.[1]  The book contains thirty other poems, varied in style and subject matter, including a long narrative romance, Vaudracour and Julia and a reprint of an extended prose work, A Topographical  Description of the Country of the Lakes, in the North of England.  Stewart Wilcox observes, “none of Wordsworth’s later poems has been so neglected as his sonnet cycle The River Duddon”.[2]  Though written in 1954, Wilcox’ comments remain pertinent.  Kim, writing in 2006, almost paraphrases the earlier critic,”The River Duddon has been neglected by modern readers. Only “After-thought” is regularly anthologised:  the other thirty-two sonnets have generated a surprisingly small amount of commentary”.[3] This latter point is a key to the critical history of the sonnet series. Scholars have either treated the work partially, concentrating on the more sublime sonnets which conclude the series, or they have considered specific poems within a broader discussion to reinforce a particular viewpoint, rather than critically evaluating the series in its entirety

For example, Kim, whilst recognising the issue of ‘part treatment’, nevertheless concentrates his commentary on a close reading of the final three sonnets to develop his central thesis that aesthetic considerations of Wordsworth’s ‘middle period’ cannot be de-coupled from political ones. Kim analyses the final two sonnets from what is an essentially ideological standpoint. Lines from the concluding sonnet which contrast “sovereign Thames […] / With Commerce freighted or triumphant War” with “the lowly mast” found in the Duddon’s “native stream” are regarded as a reflection of Wordsworth’s increasing nationalism evidenced in his tract on The Convention of Cintra  (1809).

Whereas Kim focusses his attention on those sonnets within the series which best support his ideological stance, Uddin Khan’s essay on the contemporary critical reception of the volume as a whole asserts how the sonnets generally reflect the volume’s overall classicising tendencies: ‘the elevated language in which the Duddon is described – “stately,” “majestic,” “lordly,” “imperial,” and “lofty,” [is] commensurate with the elegance of diction and the gracefulness of tone throughout the entire volume.’ [4] 

More general interest in the sonnet sequence by leading Wordsworth scholars has been minimal, occasionally surprisingly so. Jonathan Bate, in a pioneering work of British eco-criticism, Romantic Ecology, Wordsworth and the Environmental Tradition (1991), utilizes the prose Guide to the Lakes published in the ‘Duddon volume’ as a central plank of his re-reading of Wordsworth from a ‘green’ perspective, asserting “the poet is as much geographer as historian”.[5] In the book’s final chapter Bate explores “the magic of places” asserting “for Wordsworth, pastoral was not a myth, but a psychological necessity”.[6] Given the close parallels between the sonnet series and the portrayal in The Guide to the Lakes as a semi-idyllic “Republic of Shepherds and Agriculturalists”, then the omission of any mention of the sonnet sequence in Romantic Ecology seems surprising[7].
Similarly, Stephen Gill – author of the keynote literary biography of Wordsworth – in his essay ‘Wordsworth and The River Duddon’ concentrates on the dedicatory poem to Wordsworth’s brother, ‘To the Rev. Dr. W –‘, then comments at some length on remainder of the volume as a ’poetical miscellany’. Consideration of the sonnet series, however, is glossed over. Like Bate, an in-depth analysis of the prose Topographical Description is preferred as the primary vehicle to explore localism in the later Wordsworth.[8] In the case of Gill, the reason for his apparent neglect of the sonnets may be gleaned from his earlier biography, where he observes “The whole sequence is competent, but it concludes magnificently”.[9] Again, the ‘sublime’ final sonnet is celebrated, but the quality of the series as a whole is dismissed as merely ‘competent’.
In order to find a piece of substantial scholarship which considers the Duddon Sonnets as a whole, one has to rely on Wilcox’ essay from the 1950’s.  He makes a good case for seeing the series as a reflection of Platonic symbolism, concluding:

This emphasis on time is centrally structurally and philosophically. The stream and Stream, which partitively correspond to nature and Nature, likewise correspond to man and Man. The Platonic copies in time suggest the eternal Forms out of it.[10]

Though Wilcox asserts a thematic and philosophical coherence within the sonnet series, he achieves this by supressing consideration of the marked stylistic variations within the work. Uddim Khan summarises these ‘traditionalisms’ as “personifications, inversions, picturesque and classical elements”.[11] Often in the Duddon sonnets Wordsworth strays far from “the real language of men” which he advocated in the preface to Lyrical Ballads. Traditionalism here goes beyond questions of poetic diction; in certain poems Wordsworth adopts an overtly Augustan aesthetic, the reader familiar with Wordsworth of Tintern Abbey or The Prelude can be ‘wrong-footed’ by such interpolations. What is the poet’s intention – pastiche, Parody or apostasy?
            
In the decades following Wilcox’ paper, literary theory took a distinctly ‘ideological’ turn. Bate, in his introduction to Romantic Ecology characterises this as follows:

The 1980s witnessed something of a return to history, a move away from ahistorical formalisms, among the practitioners of literary criticism. In the area of English Romantic poetry […] the capstone of the decade’s criticism was […] by Alan Lui called Wordsworth, The Sense of History. 
The conception of ‘ideology’ and ‘history’ underlying these books are in the broad sense Marxist.[12]
Since the stylistic variations within the Duddon Sonnets -the mix of Wordsworthian romantic diction with ‘traditionalism’ - render them difficult to position ideologically, unsurprisingly they have been neglected by Marxist critics. However, the period since the 1980s also saw the emergence of post-modernism. Here the ‘neglect’ of the Duddon sonnets is less explicable. Given the series’ conscious historicism, its lapses into pastiche, and even parody of the Augustan aesthetic, for scholars interested in a dialogical rather than dialectic approach then the ‘intertextuality’ and examples of heteroglossia found within the text may have been expected to have attracted critical attention. However the work has not been considered in this light. The intention of this essay is to address this gap.

Scholarship of the past half century has concentrated on the final ‘After-thought’ sonnet and overlooked the rest of the work. This is not how the Duddon Sonnets were considered on publication. Wordsworth himself regarded the series as being capable of being interpreted as a single work. He writes, “The reader […] interested in the foregoing Sonnets which together may be considered as a Poem”.[13] This sentiment was re-iterated by Mary Wordsworth, in a letter from December 1818 she asserting that the Duddon Sonnets “all together compose one piece.”[14] Furthermore, the series was critically received in this light. In 1821 the Tory monthly, British Critic, reversing its previous antipathy towards Wordsworth, praised the series as follows:

The gem of the volume is a set of sonnets on the River Duddon, in which the poet, following the stream from its mountain source down to its mixing with the sea, seizes on all the incidents by the way that strike his attention. This is a beautiful idea: each incident has the completeness and unity essential to a sonnet while the stream is the connecting link.[15]

The remainder of this essay will examine the principles upon which the ‘set of sonnets’ were arranged creating a ‘completeness and unity’ which enabled them to be regarded as ‘altogether one piece’.  Furthermore, it will argue that the particular approach that Wordsworth took to arranging the sonnets signalled a development in his aesthetic outlook which proved instrumental in changing critical attitudes to his work in general. There is some truth in De Quincy’s later statement, “Up to 1820 the name of Wordsworth was trampled underfoot; from 1820 to 1830 it was militant; from 1830 to 1835 it has been triumphant.”[16] Towards the end of his life Wordsworth acknowledged the role the Duddon sonnets had played in popularising his work. Speaking to Dr Cairns in 1849 he noted, “My sonnets to the River Duddon have been wonderfully popular…”[17]

 In order to re-discover the Duddon sonnets as a single work I have undertaken a close, annotated reading of the series seeking to give equal consideration to each of the sonnets, rather than, as recent scholars have done, concentrating only on those which are deemed ‘successful’ or most ideologically suited to sustaining a particular critical stance.[18] This will then be considered in relation to Wordsworth’s reflections on poetic theory contained within the Preface of 1815. The preface represents a considerable development in the scope or Wordsworth’s thinking about poetry, He seeks to reconcile his radical theories regarding poetic diction found in the more famous Preface to Lyrical Ballads (1800) with notions of taste, decorum and Form inherited from Augustan verse and the Classical traditions.

The ‘re-reading’ has also been influenced by Don Peterson’s recent ‘new commentary’ on Shakespeare’s sonnets.[19] In the introduction Paterson distinguishes between two kinds of reading: secondary reading – associated with literary criticism which seeks to unpack “a poem’s multiple senses [by] the careful analysis of its deep structure”, and primary reading, which “engages with the poem directly as a piece of trustworthy human discourse”. Paterson’s approach was refreshingly simple - he read and annotated two sonnets a day “fitting them round work routine and domestic obligations, into leisure and dead time”. [20]  I simply emulated his approach annotating a sonnet a day for a month; these notes were subsequently copied into the following blog: http://imaginedelsewhere.blogspot.co.uk/

The process of ‘primary reading’ did provide an insight into the structure and shape of the whole series, but initially the results appeared ambiguous. One was aware of a simple, over-arching structure: the river rises in the mountains, “a Child of the clouds”, and “sinks' into the 'Deep” in the final sonnet. Wilcox has summarised this 'arc' succinctly:
“Keeping in mind then that the Duddon in its growth and moods not only reveals the activities of various stages of life, but also is symbolic of man's spirit as it emerges from the unknown, runs its earthly course, and merges again with the eternal , […] Wordsworth uses the river to give them coherent development.”[21]

Wilcox' anthropomorphic reading of the series is not entirely invalid, but it only applies in parts. Just as many of the sonnets undermine his vision of 'coherent development' as assert it. The series is characterised by variety, ambiguity and interpolation as much as displaying a centralising theme.

Ambiguity is signalled from the outset. Sonnet I opens in a classicising mode, alluding to a 'Horatian lyre', the spring of Bandusia, and evokes the Duddon as a Muse. Wordsworth, even in his most Epic moments, in the opening lines of The Excursion' or The Prelude, does ‘summon’ the Muse so directly. Clearly the ' epic' opening deliberately invites the reader to accept this 'native stream' as a subject suitable for treatment in 'the grand manner'. Even here there is ambiguity. The Spring of Bandusia refers to Horace's hymn to Spring - Ode III, 13. Horatian Odes belong to the lyric, rather than the epic tradition.  Wordsworth asks for the Duddon series to be seen in the same light as Horace's short, lyrical odes which were collected together into 'themed' books. However, the Duddon Sonnets is multi- faceted; an overriding narrative structure is provided by the motif of the river, but a recurrent subsidiary theme is woven throughout which addresses questions of poetic tradition, genre, and diction.

Throughout the series narrative flow is diverted by interpolations of various kinds: Sonnet VII is a parody of a Petrarchan love poem; Sonnet XXIV adopts the tone of the Augustan pastoral; Sonnet XXIV seems typically Wordsworthian  - like a snippet of The Prelude, Book II; Sonnet XXIX takes a didactic, moralising turn.  At the stage of primary reading such apparent thematic diversions can be frustrating appear inexplicable in relation to the poem's overall narrative structure.  Indeed it can be tempting to regard them as detrimental to the work's coherence and judge the series as a miscellany masquerading as a sequence. It may be that such an initial response accounts for the general critical neglect of the work.

However, this does not take into consideration that critical comment at the time of publication praised specifically the series' structure and form.  Moreover Wordsworth insisted that the sonnets should be read as a single poem. In order to understand contemporary attitudes towards the work we must re-examine the principles upon which the poems were arranged.  The remainder of the essay will attempt to do this by analysing the poem in the light of the literary theories developed in the preface to the 1815 edition of Wordsworth’s collected poems.[22] Critical responses to Wordsworth were prompted as much by the content of the prose Prefaces as the poems themselves.  As Uddim Khan points out:
“Although mixed and completely favourable reviews were not very scarce, adverse and abusive reviews were overwhelming by comparison. Ever since the 1800 Preface to the epoch-making Lyrical Ballads, Wordsworth was plunged into critical controversies surrounding his poetic theory in practice. In the Annual Review of 1808, Lucy Aitkens took issue with his theory of poetry as submitted to the Public in that Preface.”[23]
In particular, Aitkens “argued for bold sweep of wit, fancy and imagination, and richly figurative and truly poetical diction”.[24]

Though Gill, in William Wordsworth – A Life is somewhat dismissive, agreeing with the Monthly Review’s assessment of the 1815 Preface as “neither remarkable for clearness of idea nor for humility of tone”, nevertheless, it provides us with the most comprehensive account of Wordsworth’s response to Aitken, critique of his poetic theory and provides insight into his method of arranging shorter poems thematically.[25]
Wordsworth begins the Preface by listing the qualities of the poetic mind: Observation, Sensibility, Reflection, Imagination and Fancy, and Invention. He then enumerates the main forms of poetry – Epic, Lyric, Pastoral etc., and illustrates them using both classical and English examples.[26] This is neither controversial nor innovative. Where the Preface does become more interesting is in the following section where Wordsworth begins to articulate his own approach to classifying or ordering collections of poetry:  “It is deducible from the above, that poems apparently miscellaneous may with propriety be arranged either with reference to the powers of mind predominant in the production of them.”[27] The poet is keen to point out that this requires flexibility, acknowledging that most poems are multi-modal: “I wish to guard against the possibility of misleading by this classification, it is proper first to remind the Reader, that certain poems are placed according to the powers of mind, in the Author’s conception, predominant in the production of them; predominant, which implies the exertion of other faculties in less degree.”[28] Wordsworth’s awareness of differing reading strategies in this regard is interesting. He makes clear his desire to accommodate the needs of both ‘unreflecting readers’ and the more discerning by balancing engaging variety with thematic unity.

“Where there is more imagination than fancy in a poem, it is placed under the head of imagination, and vice versâ. […] The most striking characteristics of each piece, mutual illustration, variety, and proportion, have governed me throughout”[29]

The discussion of the differences between fancy and imagination which follows is crucial to understanding how Wordsworth conceived the Duddon Sonnets as ‘one poem’. He explores the modes of fancy and imagination from two standpoints. Firstly, he presents these two notions as poetic ‘meta-categories’ and differentiates between their broad subject matter - succinctly summing up the difference in the phrase” “Fancy is given to quicken and to beguile the temporal part of our nature, Imagination to incite and to support the eternal.”[30]  Thus ‘fancy’ “is as capricious as the accidents of things, and the effects are surprising, playful, ludicrous, amusing, tender, or pathetic, as the objects happen to be appositely produced or fortunately combined.” However, ‘imagination’ “is conscious of an indestructible dominion;—the Soul may fall away from it, not being able to sustain its grandeur; but, if once felt and acknowledged, by no act of any other faculty of the mind can it be relaxed, impaired, or diminished.”[31]

This fundamental difference in mode is mirrored in the way the two categories function poetically. For Wordsworth, the difference resides in how metaphor works within each category.  Following an extended analysis of the two terms in “British Synonyms discriminated, by W. Taylor” and a critique of Coleridge’s ideas from Biographia Literaria, Wordsworth illustrates the difference by way of example. [32] Commenting on Cotton’s Ode Upon Winter, metaphor is characterised by “a rapidity of detail and a profusion of fanciful comparisons, […] and a correspondent hurry of delightful feeling.” The Fancy tends towards comparisons which are simple, profuse and ephemeral.  Seldom reticent to assert his position in relation to illustrious antecedents, Wordsworth considers the function of metaphor within poems of imagination, firstly in Virgil, then in Shakespeare, before reflecting on his own ‘To The Cuckoo’. In poems of Imagination imagery may be more sparse, but more striking and enriched with multiple associations which ‘grow‘on the reader. To paraphrase this distinction in current terminology, Wordsworth suggests imaginative metaphors operate primarily through connotation whereas as ‘fanciful’ ones are more denotative.

How these theories assist us to appreciating the structure of the Duddon Series is illustrated in Appendix 1, figure 1.  Here the individual sonnets have been analysed in relation to the poetic forms and classes set out in the Preface. Each poem has then been assigned as belonging to either the category of Imagination (bold) or Fancy (italic). To assist in linking the analysis back to the original compositional order, the sonnets have been hyperlinked to the text and notes in the ‘primary reading’ blog. Admittedly such a process of ‘reverse engineering’ from theory to text is not without its limitations; the process of critical analysis will always be an approximation of the how Wordsworth’s theory and practice inter-related. Nevertheless the process is instructive. What emerges is a structure in which the pastoral mode (Idyllium) predominates, but where the Epic, utilising the recurrent motif of the river as “guide and friend”, forms an overarching narrative arc - concentrated particularly at the series’ opening and closing sections. For this reason I have termed the series, ‘An Epic of Fancy’.

In relation to Imagination and Fancy, analysis shows that there is almost an exact balance between the two modes. The resultant poem embodies the kind of poetry that Lucy Aitken called for in her critique of the Preface to Lyrical Ballads:  “a bold sweep of wit, fancy and imagination, and richly figurative and truly poetical diction.”[33] One senses Wordsworth, without abandoning his original tenets – he continued to revise and develop the unpublished Prelude throughout this period – nevertheless was responding consciously to the more negative aspects of contemporary criticism of his work.

What such structural analysis cannot reveal is the versatility of Wordsworth’s technique in achieving this, switching between Augustan ornament and more austere contemporary diction with wit and studied virtuosity. For example, Sonnet VI ‘Flowers’ adopts a deliberately ornate, Augustan voice:
               …And caught the fragrance which the sundry flowers,
               Fed by the stream with soft perpetual showers,
               Plenteously yielded to the vagrant breeze.
                                                                            (Ll. 7 – 9)              
                                                            
The language is reminiscent of the idyllic pastoralism of James Thompson’s The Seasons (1730.)[34] However, the sonnet which follows is an overt parody of such classicising tendencies:
               "Change me, some God, into that breathing rose!"
               The love-sick Stripling fancifully sighs,
               The envied flower beholding, as it lies
               On Laura's breast, in exquisite repose;
                                                             (Sonnet VII, LI. 1 – 4)

For all the Duddon Sonnets’ preoccupations with ‘traditionalism’, it would not be correct to represent the series as wholly retrospective. The poet of Tintern Abbey and Lyrical Ballads re-appears occasionally:  
                                              ….for fondly I pursued,
          Even when a child, the Streams--unheard, unseen;
          Through tangled woods, impending rocks between;
          Or, free as air, with flying inquest viewed
          The sullen reservoirs whence their bold brood--
          Pure as the morning, fretful, boisterous, keen,
          Green as the salt-sea billows, white and green--
          Poured down the hills, a choral multitude!
                                                             (Sonnet XXVI, Ll 1 – 8)

Furthermore, Wordsworth reveals his awareness of contemporary developments in natural science.  In the final lines of Sonnet XV, the poet speculates on the formation of unusual rock formations at Wellbarrow ravine:
        Was it by mortals sculptured?--weary slaves
               Of slow endeavour! or abruptly cast                                 
               Into rude shape by fire, with roaring blast
               Tempestuously let loose from central caves?
               Or fashioned by the turbulence of waves,
               Then, when o'er highest hills the Deluge passed?
                                                             (Ll. 9 – 14)

This reflects Enlightenment ideas concerning the origin of the earth known as catastrophism; it alludes to both the ‘Volcanism’ of Hutton and the ‘Neptunism’ of Buckland and Lyell; significantly, the prevailing Christian orthodoxy of ‘creationism’ is not mentioned.

               Other contemporary concerns are reflected in the sonnets ‘Open Prospect’ and ‘Sheep Washing.’ Here the ‘living landscape’ of the Duddon Valley is explored in terms which mirror the concerns of the Guide to the Lakes. Both the Guide and the sonnets offer a critique of the Picturesque. Wordsworth was acquainted with both William Gilpin and Uvedale Price, leading writers on the Picturesque. To some extent he was a proponent of the Picturesque himself. Sonnet III opens posing the question to the river Duddon “how shall I paint thee?” The answer - in the ‘viewing instructions’ as to how to observe the Duddon from Walnar Scar found in the note to Sonnet XVII; the lengthy musings on correct tree planting included in The Guide; the idealised depiction of “ruddy children” by a “Cottage rude and grey” in Sonnet V – suggest the aesthetics of the Picturesque. However Wordsworth was ambivalent towards the Picturesque; he was interested in dwelling within landscape as much its appearance – what the social anthropologist, Tim Ingold calls the ‘taskscape’.[35] This interest permeates the entire Duddon Volume: in the extended memoir of the rural pastor, Rev. Robert Walker; the sections of The Guide which concern “The Republic of Shepherds and Agriculturalists”; and in the sonnets – number VIII’s speculation about the “first tribes” of the valley, the depiction in Sonnet XIII, of the fields “clustered with barn and byre and spouting mill” and in XXIII - ‘Sheep Washing’.  Moreover, the magnificent final sonnet does not conclude with a consideration of Nature itself, but with a reflection on how man dwells within it:

        While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise,
                We Men, who in our morn of youth defied
               The elements, must vanish;--be it so!
                Enough, if something from our hands have power             
               To live, and act, and serve the future hour…
                                              (Sonnet XXXIV, Ll. 7 – 12)

               This Essay has sought to treat the Duddon Sonnets in the manner which the poet preferred– “as one poem”.[36] The work which emerges is an example of what Wordsworth termed in the Preface, “composite” form[37] The Duddon Sonnets moves between the epic and idyllic mode; it attempts to balance poems of Imagination and Fancy within a single compositional framework. This is achieved with skill, variety and invention, displaying an impressive grasp of the genre, technique and diction from differing epochs. Very few of the sonnets, for all their historicism, are simply derivative or lapse into pastiche. The work, In terms of subject matter, engages with major concerns of the day related to literary theory, aesthetics, the Picturesque and natural science.  Given these qualities it is unsurprising it was greeted on its publication with critical acclaim.

               However, these qualities of variety and stylistic ambiguity may have contributed to the work’s subsequent critical neglect. The eclecticism of the Duddon Sonnets is not amenable to analysis which seeks to place it within a particular ideology, movement or style. Critical developments in recent decades, embracing intertextuality, poly-vocalism and heteroglossia, may provide more appropriate analytical tools to study ‘awkward’ works which cut across canonical conventions. Postmodernism’s broadly dialogical approach enables us to arrive at a more nuanced view of Duddon Sonnets, re-positioning it within Wordsworth’s oeuvre and enriching our understanding of the rapidly evolving literary culture of the late Regency period.



[1] Wordsworth, William, The River Duddon: A Series of Sonnets: Vaudracour and Julia: And Other Poems, To Which is Annexed A Topographical Description of the Country of the Lakes in the North of England  (London: Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme & Brown, 1820) facsimile reprinted by Forgotten Books, 2012.
[2] Stewart C. Wilcox, ‘Wordsworth’s River Duddon Sonnets’, PMLA, Vol. 69, No. 1 (Mar. 1954). Pp. 131 – 141. Published by: Modern Language Association http://jstor.org/stable/460133 [accessed 14/04/2014]
[3] Benjamin Kim, ‘Generating a National Sublime: Wordsworth’s The River Duddon and The Guide to the Lakes’, Stud Romanticism, 45 No. 1 (Spr. 2006), The H. W. Wilson Company.
[4] Jalal Uddin Khan, ‘Publication and Reception of Wordsworth’s “The River Duddon” Volume’, Modern Language Studies, Vol 32. No. 2 (Autumn 2002). Pp. 45 – 67 http://jstor.org/stable/3252042 [accessed 15/01/2014
[5] Bate, Jonathan, Romantic Ecology, Wordsworth and the Environmental Tradition (London: Routledge, 1991) p. 85
[6] Bate, Jonathan, Ibid. p.86
[7] Wordsworth, William, op. cit. p.
[8] Stephen Gill, ‘Wordsworth and The River Duddon’, Essays in Criticism, Vol. 57, No. 1 (2007). [Downloaded from http://eic.oxfordjournals.org/ at University of Derby 15/1/2014]
[9] Gill, Stephen, William Wordsworth – A Life, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989) p. 333
[10] Wilcox, Stewart, C., op. cit. p. 141.
[11] Khan, Uddim, Jalal, op. cit. p 56.
[12] Bate, Jonathan, op. cit. p. 2
[13] Wordsworth, William, op. cit. p. 45
[14] Kim, Benjamin, op. cit. p. 51
[15] Khan, Uddim, Jalal, op. cit. p. 61.
[16] Khan, Uddim, Jalal, op. cit. p. 64.
[17] Ditto.

[19] Paterson, Don, Reading Shakespeare’s Sonnets, A New Commentary (London: Faber and Faber, 2010)
[20] Paterson, Don, ibid. pp XIV - XVI
[21] Wilcox, Stewart, C., op. cit. p. 136.
[22] Wordsworth, William, Preface to Poems 1815 (Boston: Harvard Classics, Famous Prefaces, 1909-14) available online: http://www.bartleby.com/39/38.html [accessed 13.3.2014]
[23] Khan, Uddim, Jalal, op. cit. p. 46
[24] Ditto
[25] Gill, Stephen, William Wordsworth – A Life, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989) p. 306
[26] Wordsworth, William, Preface to Poems, op. cit. paras. 2 – 9.
[27] Ibid. para. 10
[28] Ibid. para. 9

[29] Ibid. para. 9
[30] Ibid. para. 27
[31] Ibid. para. 25
[32] Ibid. paras. 11 - 27
[33] Khan, Uddim, Jalal, op. cit. p. 46
[34] Thompson, James, The Seasons, (Internet Archive available on-line at: http://archive.org/stream/seasonsbyjamest00thomgoog/seasonsbyjamest00thomgoog_djvu.txt) [accessed 17.2.2014)
[35] Robertson, Iain, and Penny Richards, eds., Studying Cultural Landscapes, (London: Arnold, 2003) p. 7
[36] Wordsworth, William, The River Duddon: A Series of Sonnets. op. cit. p. 45
[37] Wordsworth, William, Preface to Poems, op. cit. para. 8.


Appendix 1