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Grace
Grace is not a state of Poetry the way we might say Texas is
a State of the Union--she is everywhere and nowhere. Yet
there is no Poem without Grace, even if the Fool in his
heart of hearts has said, "there is no Grace," and set about
diligently constructing a Work. From the Shaman-Poets
inducing trances with Soma, Sapphic "fire down the limbs"
and Homeric Bards, stirred into Song as a Sleeper loosens
into Dreams, to automatic Writing, cut-ups, chance
Operations and bop spontaneous Prose, Poetry needs Grace.
The Myth of a Poem's making is not merely Poetics but part
of the Poem, wrapped up in or accompanying it, a Story about
a man from Porlock. On such occasions, Grace reaches for its
upper limit, Inspiration: "Sing, Heavenly Muse..." Grace is
Divine Love (or Hate), an Impersonal force, Equation or
Third Eye meddling with the Poem. Grace is also Nature.
"Poetry should come as naturally as Leaves to a Tree, or not
at all," wrote Keats. Whether or not we accept or invite
such Meddling, even as three parts out of a hundred in the
Work, we are likely to hold Results up to the standard of
Grace as seeming Ease. Delight in the mastery of an Art
comes from Riddance of Effort. In this case, the more
general, Grace is an Illusion of Effortless Beauty (or any
Category the Poet desires). How does a Poet judge when the
Line falls right? When there is no more Effort to cut away.
Three percent Grace has been earned with the other
ninety-seven percent of Labor. What is to be remarked here
is not that Grace is earned, but that so much Labor aims for
Grace. Poets have crossed Deserts of writing without a drop
of Grace. Grace is the North Star by which all Poet
Navigators take their Bearings, the New Jerusalem in a
Blueprint, the Conferment a thousand Labors will not
guarantee. Grace is Opium milked by the Cultivator.
The Poem is a Gamble, with no Security--and few are the
Patrons willing to insure such a risky Venture. (Nor was
Raleigh hung for want of Grace in Art.) A common Risk,
against which none but native Genius holds Indemnity, and
which we pardon in all Beginnings, is the Workmanlike Poem.
A Work of the Will may be admirable, but for all that
Graceless. In a Society marked by Expenditure and Debt even
Genius is wont to reign in its Powers, distributing Grace
into graces. Here Grace touches on its lower limit,
Charm--and flutters about the Poem in pleasing Affects and
well placed Rhymes like so many Sylphs. (Milton calls on the
Sword, Pope on a pair of Scissors.) As Manners differ from
country to country, so do the Graces (in Greece they were
three), ranging fom the Grammatical Twist--an Awkwardness in
some countries--to the odd but successful Joke. Humor is
indeed the most prodigal Charm, bought and sold in plenty,
and much Beloved. In all such cases, Grace is Proportion, a
Sense of Fitness or Propriety. But when Society is so
Polished, Grace will likely slip the Reins to reappear
Unchaste and in the Raw, reminding us her true Nature is a
little Wild, exceeding Social Bounds. If the Romans
attempted to codify Grace, subsuming her to Decorum,
considerations of Audience and Occasion, there nevertheless
came a Catullus, loving and hating in Measures no one had
suspected could break a Heart.
In a time of Upheaval and cataclysmic Change, on the other
hand, following Wars and Revolutions, even Grace as
Inspiration is not enough. Here the Cachet of Renewal,
whether by Shock or Innovation, leads the Pack in an all-out
Chase beyond the Impersonal. Grace so spurned, deferred or
denied, as with the Romantics, works by Negatives: it
becomes a Grotesque, the Sublime or any Disproportion.
Excess longing for Grace is morbid, and can create, where
the Body is concerned, Embarassment (Keats). In the extreme
case of an Artifical Paradise, Grace turns to laudanum, the
Pains and Night Terrors of addiction. De Quincey did not
vacate Grasmere Cottage gracefully; the Books pushed him
out. Here Grace falls into Religion, a Buffeting to undo all
but the hardiest Genius, between Spleen and Ideal. Such are
the Trials of Grace. What follows can be either Grace
Transfigured, an Illumination, or Grace Reinstated, cold and
stiff as a Parnassus or Victorian Bodice.
No poet worth his salt tries for or even counts on Grace. As
in the Parable of the Labourers in the Vineyard, Grace is
free, a Gratuitous favor or Indulgence. In many cases, Grace
is a blessed Mercy. Sometimes Poetry comes to Life by dint
of an extraordinary Grace or Beatrice, is itself a Grace
redeeming Illness and forfending Death, or is continued by
some good Grace, as when Villon awaiting Execution is
pardoned by the Grace (Clemency) of the King, whose Infant
daughter happens to pass the grates of his Cell. There is a
lesser Grace in Patrons' Gifts, which are rarely Free. By
the same token, Scholarships and Awards are as likely to
bring Torment as Grace. Medieval Philosophers debated
Compatibility of Grace with Works, and the Independence (or
Freedom) of Grace--in either case there was no doubt
concerning Submission of Works to Grace. What was, and is,
more difficult, is to accept that Grace is both Free and
Necessary. No Poet expects Grace, and yet the Poet stakes
his all, laying up for the Glorious times when she comes
freely and of her own accord. Without such Appearances he,
and his Works, are forsaken. For Grace, the Troubadour tills
his Lady's Heart and Ears like a common Serf, and such Grace
is called Mercy (Merce) because without it the Poet faces
Exile, and Silence.
Having abandoned the Pole Star of Grace for magnetic North,
Critics are barred from the perils and rewards of Poetry,
just as this Star is where the Poet affixes a line dividing
Poetry from his other Works. Nevertheless, such a deviation
between True and Magnetic North leaves room for much
Wandering, much Commerce and Crossing Over, and the mutual
Curiosity of all Parties. For no Poet can in good Faith
claim to escape the Fall from Grace--the Hunger with which
Poets fall, in their Idle hours, on Introductions, Reviews,
Criticism, writings about Poetry. It is an
Indiscretion (and this Article is one) only Grace can
redeem.
Jonathan Skinner