The Table Talk of Ted Hughes -- a Counterblast.

Five years ago Horatio Morpurgo (HM), an aspirant writer, published an article in Areté in which, in effect, he accuses Ted Hughes of being a boor and boring in his table-talk. It left me seething at the time; on recently rereading it I feel compelled to set the record straight.

HM uses the phrase 'great man' as a sneering epithet. He says Ted 'badgered', 'brow-beat' and 'harangued' people, went 'on and on.'

I first met Ted in 1978 and had a deep shared friendship with him, his family and many of his circle. He and I remained very close until his death in 1998. I frequently stayed at Court Green and sat at innumerable tables with him, often with HM's own family. I do not recognise the man or table-talker HM purports to describe.

Ted did pursue subjects, sometimes exhaustively, but he was also endlessly engaging and made all sorts of subjects magical for others. Truthfully, few people I have known had so many interesting things to say and could say them so well. He may, for some, have had a number of what they felt were quirky views (and, let us be clear, he and I did not agree on everything - astrology, healing, some aspects of politics, 'The Boke of Sir Thomas More', the acquisition of money etc), though he almost certainly studied all his subjects more deeply than most of his listeners -- on science, for instance, he was a subscriber to the weekly New Scientist at least. A point people often do not understand about him is that he felt you have to pursue things as a believer (even when you were not one entirely), otherwise you could not get from them what you needed as an artist.

To listen to the voice that Melvyn Bragg said he would cast for God. To observe that handsome rugged head practising publicly his intense ruminations (even HM suggests 'perhaps it accounts for the amazing range of his poetic voice', though he churlishly implies that such things should be kept in the workroom). To be the beneficiary of that Shakespearean mind and that prodigious memory. To be bathed in Ted's impromptu and wonderful language, bulging with metaphors, ideas and possibilities. These were golden times in my life.

Rarely does HM even hint at what an immense privilege it was to be blessed with the company and conversation of one of the really great people of his generation. Ted was amazingly sensitive to other peoples' feelings and rarely had an ill word for anyone, remonstrating with himself when gossip ran too negatively ('No twisty thoughts'), though he loved hearing about things and people as much as anyone. He may not always have judged nuances right, but I have never known anyone so forgiving of peoples' foibles; so ready to see the good in everyone.

We are told Ted had an unhealthy interest in money. HM, then a man with limited responsibilities, has always enjoyed a private income ('My family was on his well-to-do Devon list.'). Ted, from a poor background, had two children and had to scramble for a living in a notoriously ill-paid profession, and though he ultimately did well, it was all of his own making. He knew too that whenever he made any money, as when he and Carol sold their farm or when he sold his archive, something always cropped up to siphon it off. Ted was fascinated by schemes for making money, but no more than he was fascinated by almost anything, as if they were games, but he rarely put any of his mercantile musings into action and never exploited his position as Poet Laureate - for instance he donated to charity any payments he received from national newspapers for 'laureate' poems. If he had a special interest in the rich it was for the purposes of approaching them for charitable purposes, often with and on behalf of HM's parents' own charity or the Arvon Foundation, of both of which he was the president.

Then there are the claims that he had perverse political views, was a warmonger and made use of rich neighbours to get fishing. Certainly Ted came to admire Margaret Thatcher's contribution to transforming lethargic Britain, but he was ever mindful of her apparent want of compassion and like many felt she made the mistake of clinging to power. I believe he long voted for the Green Party. Even the Archbishop of Canterbury concedes, as do most worldly-wise men, that there are morally justified and necessary wars - that does not make him a warmonger. As to his conniving to get free fishing, let us not forget that his fellow fishers got quite a kick out of having the 'Scribbler' as one of their gang and all of them admired his extraordinary skill in the sport. He might have questioned his own motives privately, but Ted was a manly man who brought magic and charisma to any circle he was in and he certainly is not the first person to have shared a passion (and fishing was his greatest hobby, one from which literature benefited enormously) with those who might otherwise not have been thought his equals; all of whom, however, it should be said, had qualities to admire beyond their riparian possessions.

HM allows a few limited concessions to Ted's credit (his love of Devon and his admiration for the royal family - which was, incidentally, based on real affection and his sense of the tribe's needs). But then, for instance, while he grudgingly acknowledges that Ted could get things 'spectacularly right', like BSE, this is immediately downplayed as HM shakes his head at Ted's 'reflex pessimism' about the dangers [of global warming] on civilisation. Now, of course, Ted's foresight on that has become accepted wisdom as, by and large, has his view about how much aid is wasted in Africa. It is somewhat ironoc that nowadays HM prides himself as a prophet on the subject of climate change, describing his own work as 'something of a beacon amidst the general murk' -- though I am informed he means this as a joke.

Another barb in the article is plainly unfair: ''You were aware of an atmosphere heavily charged with libellous accusations and pending law-suits. He always seemed just about to go to war with the whole of Fleet Street and/or Hollywood.' In a high-profile life as controversial as Ted's, with regular attacks on all sides, it is surprising that he only went to the Press Council once, when he won his case against The Independent (over its bongo party smear after Sylvia Plath's death; incidentally, such as it was, it took place in Plath's flat, not downstairs, and was not on the night of her death, but later in February after her burial in Yorkshire). He did begin legal proceedings against newspapers but only on two other occasions, and the 'Hollywood' case was in fact brought against him by someone claiming to have been maligned in a film in which he had had no direct involvement about Sylvia Plath's Bell Jar, the copyright of which he had inherited at her death, though he did not read the book until the 1980s. What would HM have had Ted do in the circumstances? The allegation that Ted sought out cheap giggles at other peoples' expense is just too low.

Who is HM and why did he write what he did? When he knew Ted he was pretty much the callow youth, one particularly diffident in company, self-absorbed, introspective and vulnerable, something he only glancingly concedes ('teasing an earnest young man'). He clearly did not appreciate Ted's occasional banter, something most of us sometimes do when faced with a taciturn teenager. HM's brother seemed to rise to it; he didn't. But it is amazing that he harboured such resentment and ill-will, for he sees it as Ted being dogmatic and bullying. In the same way that there is a tendency among biographers to drag their subjects down to their own level, so with this sort of journalism there is a danger that truth will fall victim to the reporter's own anxieties and inadequacies. I am not disputing most of the anecdotes HM recalls (I was not always there, though often enough), but rather the slant and interpretation he puts on them. He did not himself have much of a sense of humour and perhaps he cannot see it in others. He clearly does not have sufficient subtlety to allow that Ted's command of conversations could in part have reflected his (Ted's) own shyness or his desire to fill in for others. Also Ted was a seer, shaman, teacher - it was his role in life to explicate. Nor in his familial circle did HM ever have to perform the role of either chief guest or chief host, instead lurking in the shadows.

And Ted had earned his place at their family table. HM's mother and father, far from being merely 'on his well-to-do Devon list', were among Ted's closest friends, certainly in the confines of his adopted county. He unstintingly supported them and at their request headed up the admirable charity they set up and ran, discussing broad strategies and daily minute details, putting his influence and gifts at their disposal. He supported and encouraged HM's father in his writing, from its inception, and even went on one of his rare non-fishing holidays abroad with the parents, sailing up the Nile. He brought many of the most interesting writers in his wake, affording wonderful opportunities and occasions which it is disappointing to sense HM was unable to relish and benefit from (he doesn't mention them).

Perhaps this go some way towards explaining my anger at HM's ingratitude and self-serving misrepresentation. His failure not to have seen how privileged he was in having Ted in unbuttoned mode in his life but also (especially in hindsight) not to have realised even to some extent that his memory might be soured by his own youthfulness and personality are extraordinary. He was let behind the scenes and he abused it. I hope that he will come regret his betrayal of confidence and friendship.

What is as surprising is that Craig Raine published HM's maudlin piece. In his own profile of Ted (in Haydn & The Valve Trumpet: Literary Essays) Craig described Ted as 'as a natural teacher'. And while noting that Ted did not make 'small talk; it's a talk', he says it left him 'wide-eyed' and that every 'time you meet him, you learn something new'. At least Craig has the generosity of spirit to recognise that Ted 'must be judged a poet of the first rank' partly because 'as a man and as a poet...[he] doesn't just look at things, he looks into things with the relaxed raptness of a hypnotist.' Craig celebrates these qualities and the products of them both in Ted's writing and conversation and openly declares his fascination with the magic of it all. He could also appreciate Ted's sense of humour. On the other hand, Craig does like to stir the pot - maybe his decision to publish was born of this - but it was not an honourable one: the person denigrated was no longer alive to defend himself and he did not, as we have seen Craig himself acknowledges, deserve it.

Roy Davids

(For my own view of Ted see my poem 'Memories, Reflections, Gratitudes' on this website or in The Epic Poise, edited by Nick Gammage, Faber and Faber, 1999, ie. published two years before HM's article). HM's article appeared in Areté, volume 6, Autumn 2001 - this can be found on Google by putting in 'Ted Hughes Horatio Morpurgo' - third item down: Areté Magazine. The Arts Tri-Quarterly. The Table Talk...