Review: Ted Hughes The Snake in the Oak

‘Beware! Beware!’

Ted Hughes: (W. Scammell ed.) ‘The Snake in the Oak’,

Winter Pollen, Occasional Prose. London: Faber & Faber 1994

ISBN 0-571-17426-4 £8.99 Paperback

 

Reviewed by Paul Cheshire

 

(The Coleridge Bulletin  New Series No 7 (Spring 1996), pp 55-58)

 

Poets writing on poets are usually stimulating, and this previously unpublished 92 page essay on Coleridge, included in a collection of Hughes’ occasional prose, lives up to expectations. This is no cautious exposition: it is a fearless dive into Coleridge’s ‘own deepest psychological make-up’ framed in what can only be termed a psycho-mythological exegesis of the three visionary poems, ‘Kubla Khan’, ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’ and ‘Christabel’. To Hughes, poetry of any importance is essentially vatic and he speaks to us accordingly as an inheritor of the prophetic mantle from within that tradition —‘as one having authority, and not as the scribes’.

 

[56]

 

In this context it feels small-minded and scribal to point out that the essay has several inaccuracies. We are looking at deep psychological Truth after all, and what matter if it was Bartram, not Purchas, who had written about alligators rutting in the Carolinas; if Wordsworth was not the ‘eldest of five brothers’? There will be scribes enough to annotate Hughes to death. Posthumously. For now, we must drink the milk of Paradise he offers after posting a health warning to those for whom factual correctness is essential. Beware! Beware! Reading ‘The Snake in the Oak’ may be harmful to your Examination Results...

 

Hughes sees the dominant theme of English poetry as the relationship between poet and ‘the Greater Female of paganism resurgent’. Protestant Christianity, is a ‘limited cognitive system’ which represses the true creative wholeness of Nature as Great Mother, whom the poet must reach and serve if he is to fulfil his true vatic function.

 

How does this apply to Coleridge? Coleridge, according to Hughes, was of the Great Mother’s party without knowing it. He clung to his intellectual ‘Christian self’ as an escape capsule to avoid the frightening associations of his largely unconscious ‘unleavened Self’, that monstrous yet fascinating Great female whose form develops sequentially throughout the three visionary poems which Hughes puts together as a single myth in three parts.

 

First in ‘Kubla Khan’ the Great female is ambivalent: the attractive yet clearly dangerous Abyssinian maid. In ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’ she appears as ‘ the Nightmare LIFE-IN-DEATH’ who cries ‘I’ve won! I’ve won!’ Her victory is over the Mariner’s soul who in his vision of the sea snakes is then offered a redemptive glimpse of her positive attributes. However, he (and most importantly for Hughes, Coleridge himself) fails to understand the significance of this vision: his Christian conscience revives on return to shore and ‘the

 

[57]

 

Christian self in him hurriedly takes up the pen’. The final act in this drama is the enthralment of Christabel by the reptilian Geraldine. This represents the last battle in the unequal war between these two Selves that has been traced throughout the three visionary poems.

 

In the course of his essay, Hughes also illuminates Coleridge’s consistent use of a symbolic language. The oak, for example, is introduced by Hughes in the following Notebook entry on Power contrasted with Strength:

 

My strength is small in proportion to my Power— ...this important distinction, between Strength and Power - the Oak, and the tropic Annual... which grows nearly as high & spreads as large, as the Oak — but the wood, the heart of Oak is wanting.

 

The power then is his intellect whose perpetual motion Coleridge recognises to be a flight from the solidity, the heart of deeper feeling. Thus Coleridge’s absent strength comes to be allied with the ‘unleavened Self’ and we finally arrive at what Hughes calls the ‘core-like image cluster of woman/reptile/oak’ which comes to fruition when we reach Christabel. Christabel has gone out to her oak for strength, but takes home Geraldine, the disguised snake that will wreathe its poison around her heart.

 

For Hughes, the significance to Coleridge of this defeat is clear:

 

It is not merely the difficulty of fitting this vision of the triumph of the Pagan Great Goddess into a Christian conscience and way of life that sends Coleridge on his way ‘like one that hath been stunned’. It is the fact that she has triumphed. The tongue that can tell only the truth has told him that his Christian life, and the limited cognitive system that goes with it, is a lie.

 

[58]

 

Hughes’ essay is not well served by an outline presentation; there is an important distinction to be made between a bold and definite reading and a dogmatic one. We do not have to subscribe to Hughes’ (in my opinion) one-sided view of a life-affirming Great Mother (good because good-and-evil) versus Christianity as uptight repression (bad because denying wholeness) to find his insights on Coleridge valuable. We are driven back to the poems and notebooks to read them afresh and test out this reading for ourselves. This is an essay to put alongside Blake on Milton or Yeats on Shelley. Living waters indeed.