t is not until quite recently that Clough’s work has resurfaced, finally escaping the narrow confines of the Victorian ideals
of poetry and appreciated according to its originality, wit and comedy. “Clough’s realism and skepticism, recognition of ambivalence, strain of irony and ridicule, bitter sarcasm, exploration of doubt, frustration and despair” completely went against the grain of Victorian poetics, which was “strongly prejudiced against literature that was negative or depressing.” The ending to Amours de Voyage, in which the lovers remain separate and their affections unrequited, would have been shocking to a Victorian mind. In Amours de Voyage, Clough employs comedy as a means to mock the traditional ideals of heroism, love and art, focusing instead on the ordinary and realistic aspects of life, making this one of the masterpieces of modern poetry.
These contrasts are established immediately at the very beginning of the poem. The
prologue is written in the style of an epic in heroic meter, and the theme is highly romantic. The author is reminiscing upon a lost paradise, “a land wherein gods of the old time wandered” (3). However, we discover that what follows after is a set of letters, and the previous tone of the prologue is undercut by Claude’s “clever disparagement of Rome.” The heroic meter continues, but is now juxtaposed with a contemporary theme that transforms the style to one that is extremely tongue-in-cheek, and no doubt shocking to the Victorian audience who saw such treatment of the classical form as appalling, not to mention the trashing of the birthplace of the classical tradition. At the end of the first epistle, Claude remarks that although Rome is better than London simply because it is in another location so that he can separate himself from his past, he finds himself turning once again to what is most familiar, his old friend Vernon. This proves indeed, the truth in the prologue, that “whithersoever we turn, still is the same narrow crib” and we can quite safely surmise it was the same hand who wrote both the elegy in the prologue as well as the controversial and pretentious letter that follows. Even though Claude has dubbed “rubbishy” as the word which would “most exactly suit Rome,” we see that this is partly just a pose of the bored
intellectual. Despite his clever quips, and plays on old sayings, Claude’s earnest verse reveals that he secretly aspires to reach the heights of the classic epic poetry, something that he continues to do throughout the entire poem. By using the hexameters to satirize Claude, Clough mocks the hero, giving a contrast between the image he wants to convey and the real person beneath.
The first canto casts doubt upon the first of a series of classical ideals that is to be examined throughout the poem, that of art and religion, and establishes the depth of Claude’s sensitivity to both what is around him as well as the values that society expects him to carry within. His depth is contrasted with Georgina’s shallowness, who is “delighted of course with St. Peter’s” ad thinks Rome is a “wonderful place” (55-6) simply because that’s what is commonly accepted. Her preoccupation with the inane, the A.s and W., as well as George’s mustachios heightens our awareness of the fact that Claude is, in fact, very clever. Through the Trevellyns, Clough reveals the arrogance and snobbishness within Claude’s character. He classes them as bankers, scornfully noting that the “taint of the shop” still clings onto them as they count every penny in restaurants and mocks their “threadbare-genteel relations” (131) and Mrs. Trevellyn’s attempts at talking about intellectual subjects with her “slightly mercantile accent.” His arrogance almost becomes unbearable when he asks Eustace “whether the horrible pleasure of pleasing inferior people is contemptible” and what redeems him is that despite this onslaught of criticism it is clear that he does not really care all that much about the answer. He openly admit that he enjoys their company, is “glad to be liked, and like in return very kindly” and is even able to step back, chastise and mock himself for being “just like Iago” running away with himself in fantastic height, in coxcomb exaltation” (144-5) in abusing “those most worthy people” (135). As Yale notes, it is this fusion of “affectation and prejudice with intelligence” within Claude, that is “one of the poem’s most brilliant achievements.”
The first canto is set up so that Claude can give a thorough reevaluation of Roman art and religion. Clough ironically uses the backdrop of Rome, the focal point of faith in Europe, to allow Claude to examine the Christian tradition. His barely contained anger at the “vile, tyrannous Spaniards” who “fanaticized Europe” (107), and his disgust of the “pseudo-learning and lies, confessional-boxes and postures” of Catholicism reveals the more passionate side of his nature, and is juxtaposed with the cool intellectualism that frequently masks what lies beneath. The setting of the poem in Rome during 1849 also allows Clough to use the Roman republic fighting against the French forces as a backdrop for Claude to continue in his questioning of societal values, setting up contrasts between love and war, the soldier and the intellectual.