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T.S. Eliot
1888 - 1965

Serious poetry was about to be eclipsed by fiction. He provided
the stark salvation of The Waste Land
By HELEN VENDLER for Time Magazine
In 1670 Andrew Eliot left East Coker in Somerset, England, for
Boston. Two hundred and eighteen years later, his direct
descendant, Thomas Stearns Eliot — who would become the most
celebrated English-language poet of the century — was born in
St. Louis, Mo., to a businessman and a poet, Henry and Charlotte
Eliot. Although young Tom was brilliantly educated in English
and European literature and in Eastern and Western philosophy
and religion, he fled — in his mid 20s — the career in
philosophy awaiting him at Harvard, and moved to England. There
he married (disastrously), met the entrepreneurial Ezra Pound
and, while working at Lloyds Bank, brought out Prufrock and
Other Observations. Five years later, after a nervous breakdown
and a stay in a Swiss sanatorium in Lausanne, he published The
Waste Land. Modern poetry had struck its note.
Not everyone was impressed. Dorothy Wellesley, writing to W.B.
Yeats, said petulantly, "But Eliot, that man isn't modern. He
wrings the past dry and pours the juice down the throats of
those who are either too busy, or too creative to read as much
as he does." "The juice of the past" isn't a bad description of
the lifeblood of The Waste Land; but it was a past so
disarranged — with the Buddha next to St. Augustine, and Ovid
next to Wagner — that a reader felt thrust into a time machine
of disorienting simultaneity. And the poem had an unsettling
habit of saying, out of the blue, "Oed' und leer das Meer," or
something even more peculiar. It ended, in fact, with a cascade
of lines in different languages — English, Italian, Latin,
French, Sanskrit. Still, readers felt the desperate spiritual
quest behind the poem — and were seduced by the unerring
musicality of its free-verse lines.
The Waste Land was a deeply unoptimistic, un-Christian and
therefore un-American poem, prefaced by the suicidal words of
the Cumaean Sibyl, "I want to die." It is, we could say, the
first Euro-poem. In its desolation at the breakup of the
Judeo-Christian past, the poem turns for salvation to the Buddha
and his three ethical commandments: Give, Sympathize, Control.
But on the way to its ritually religious close ("Shantih,
shantih, shantih"), it films a succession of loveless or violent
or failed sexual unions — among the educated ("My nerves are bad
tonight") and the uneducated ("He, the young man carbuncular,
arrives"), and in the poet's own life ("your heart would have
responded / Gaily"). It speaks of an absent God and of a dead
father; Eliot's recently dead father had left capital outright
to the other children, but permitted his wayward son only the
interest on his portion.
It annoyed Eliot that The Waste Land was interpreted as a
prophetic statement: he referred to it (somewhat disingenuously)
as "just a piece of rhythmical grumbling." Yet World War I had
intervened between the writing of most of the poems included in
Prufrock and the composition of The Waste Land; and in a 1915
letter to Conrad Aiken, Eliot had said, "The War suffocates me."
Whether or not Eliot had written down the Armageddon of the
West, he had showed up the lightweight poetry dominating
American magazines. Nothing could have been further from either
bland escapism or Imagist stylization than the music-hall
syncopation ("O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag") and the pub
vulgarity ("What you get married for if you don't want
children") of The Waste Land. Eliot's poem went off like a bomb
in a genteel drawing-room, as he intended it to.
How could The Waste Land — and the sad poems, almost as
peculiar, that followed it (from The Hollow Men to Little
Gidding) — succeed to such an extent that by 1956 the University
of Minnesota needed to stage his lecture there in a basketball
arena? The astonishing growth of literacy between 1910 and 1940
certainly helps to explain the rise of an audience for modernist
writing. But it was an audience chiefly of fiction readers.
Fiction had claimed "real life," and in 1910 poetry was
subsisting, for the most part, on vague appeals to nature and to
God. Though from 1897 on, Edwin Arlington Robinson had been
writing his grim, intelligent poetry of American failures (Miniver
Cheevy among them), he was not a popular American poet: Joyce
Kilmer and Edgar Guest were the poets who sold.
Lovers of poetry in the pre-Modernist era had been surviving on
a thin diet of either Platonic idealism or a post-'90s
"decadence," and it was felt that barbaric and businesslike
America could not equal the sophistication of England. Eliot's
vignettes of modern life (some sardonic, some elegiac), and his
meditation on consciousness and its aridities, reclaimed for
American poetry a terrain of close observation and complex
intelligence that had seemed lost. The heartbreak under the
poised irony of Eliot's work was not lost on his audience, who
suddenly felt that in understanding Eliot, they understood
themselves.
The discontinuous and "impersonal" Eliot of course provoked
rebellion in some poets. John Berryman wrote, "Let's have
narrative, and at least one dominant personality, and no
fragmentation! In short, let us have something spectacularly NOT
The Waste Land." But other younger poets disagreed. Charles
Wright, this year's Pulitzer Prize poet, first read the Four
Quartets (Eliot's World War II poem) in the Army-base library in
Verona, Italy. "I loved the music; I loved the investigation of
the past," he says. "The sound of it was so beautiful to me."
The voice of the Quartets — meditative, grave, sorrowful, but
also dry, experienced and harsh — has been important to poets
from Wright to John Ashbery, because it allowed the
conversational tone of everyday life to enter into the
discussion of the deepest subjects.
After Eliot's unhappy marriage and separation (Vivienne Eliot
died in a mental hospital), he was baptized in the Anglican
church, and his poetry became more orthodox. Eventually, he
could no longer summon the intense concentration of heart, mind
and imagination necessary to produce significant poetry, and he
subsided into the versifier of Old Possum's Book of Practical
Cats — ironically, the work by which he is now most widely known
in the U.S., thanks to its popularization in the musical Cats.
He was a formidably intelligent critic of literature and
culture, though he did not escape — any more than we can
ourselves — the limitations and prejudices of his time and his
upbringing. He sent the stock of the 17th-century poets soaring
while arguing against the romantic notion of "self-expression"
in favor of a poetry that was severe and classical.
Eliot died in 1965. He chose to be buried in East Coker with his
ancestors, remaining the unrepentant exile whose Americanness —
his Protestant New England, his St. Louis, his Mississippi River
— can be seen better by hindsight than it could when he was
alive.
~~~<"((((((><~~~<"((((((><~~~<"((((((><~~~<"((((((><~~~<"((((((><~~~
Thomas Stearns Eliot, American-English author, was one of the
most influential poets writing in English in the 20th century,
one of the most seminal critics, an interesting playwright, and
an editor and publisher.
On Sept. 26, 1888, T. S. Eliot was born in St. Louis, Mo., a
member of the third generation of a New England family that had
come to St. Louis in 1834. Eliot's grandfather, William
Greenleaf Eliot, Unitarian minister and founder of schools, a
university, a learned society, and charities, was the family
patriarch. While carrying on a tradition of public service, the
Eliots never forgot their New England ties. T. S. Eliot claimed
that he was a child of both the Southwest and New England. In
Massachusetts he missed Missouri's dark river, cardinal birds,
and lush vegetation. In Missouri he missed the fir trees, song
sparrows, red granite shores, and blue sea of Massachusetts.
Eliot Family
Henry Ware Eliot, the father of T. S. Eliot, became chairman of
the board of a brick company and served the cultural
institutions his father had helped found, as well as others. He
married an intellectual New Englander, Charlotte Champ. After
having six children, she turned her energies to education and
legal safeguards for the young. She also wrote a biography, some
religious poems, and a dramatic poem (1926), with a preface by
her already widely respected youngest child, Thomas.
Eliot grew up within the family's tradition of service to
religion, community, and education. Years later he declared,
"Missouri and the Mississippi have made a deeper impression on
me than any part of the world." The Eliots also spent summers on
Cape Ann, Mass. These places appear in Eliot's early poetry, but
in the Four Quartets of his maturity his affection for them is
most explicit.
Education of a Poet
In St. Louis young Eliot received a classical education
privately and at Smith Academy, originally named Eliot Academy.
He composed and read the valedictory poem for his graduation in
1905. After a year at Milton Academy in Massachusetts, he went
to Harvard in 1906. He was shy, correct in dress, and
intellectually independent. He studied under such versatile men
as William James, George Santayana, Josiah Royce, and Irving
Babbitt. He discovered Dante and heard talk of reviving poetic
drama. Among such student personalities as Walter Lippmann,
Heywood Broun, Conrad Aiken, and E. E. Cummings, Eliot made a
modest impression as a contributor and editor of the Harvard
Advocate. He was quietly completing his bachelor of arts degree
in 3 years and was hard on the track of a new poetic voice. In
1908 he discovered Arthur Symons's The Symbolist Movement in
Literature, and through it the French poet Jules Laforgue. From
the example of Laforgue, other French symbolists, and late
Elizabethan dramatists, he began to develop the offhand
eloquence, the pastiches and discordant juxta-positions, the
rhythmic versatility, and the concern masked by evasive irony
and wit that would soon dominate the American-British renascence
in poetry.
Eliot's stay at Harvard to earn a master of arts in philosophy
was interrupted by a year at the Sorbonne. He returned to
Harvard in 1911 but in 1914 he went abroad again on a Harvard
fellowship to study in Germany. When World War I broke out, he
transferred to Merton College, Oxford, and studied with a
disciple of F. H. Bradley, who became the subject of Eliot's
dissertation. Ezra Pound, the young American poet, discovered
Eliot at Oxford. Though they were quite different, they shared a
devotion to learning and poetry. After Oxford, Eliot decided to
stay in England and in 1915 married a vivacious Englishwoman,
Vivienne Haigh Haigh-Wood. He taught at Highgate Junior School
for boys near London (1915-1916) and then worked for Lloyd's
Bank. While teaching, he completed his dissertation, Knowledge
and Experience in the Philosophy of F. H. Bradley. The
dissertation was accepted, but Eliot did not return to America
to defend it so as to receive his doctorate. His study of
Bradley, however, contributed to his thought and prose style.
Early Poetry
When the United States entered World War I in 1917, Eliot tried
to join the U.S. Navy but was rejected for physical reasons.
That year his first volume of verse, Prufrock and Other
Observations, appeared and almost immediately became the focus
for discussion and controversy. Eliot's abruptly varied rhythms
and his mixtures of precision and discontinuity, contemporary
references and echoes of the past, and immediate experience and
haunting leitmotifs spoke to the distraction and alienation that
World War I had intensified in Western civilization. This
quality was most effective in the ironically titled poem "The
Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," in which the Victorian
dramatic monologue is turned inward and wedded to witty
disillusion and psychic privacies to present a dilettante
character fearful of disturbing or being disturbed by anything
in the universe. Prufrock moves through a dehumanized city of
dispirited common men on an empty round of elegant but
uncommunicative chitchat. The many voices within him, speaking
in approximations of blank verse and in catchy couplets,
contribute to what Hugh Kenner, the American critic, called an
"eloquence of inadequacy."
Critic and Editor
As literary editor of the Egoist, a feminist magazine, from 1917
to 1919, Eliot began the editorial and critical careers that
would continue until his death. The back pages of the Egoist
were entrusted to a succession of young poet-editors, and here,
with the aid of Ezra Pound, the new poetry and criticism got a
hearing. Eliot was also writing anonymous reviews for the London
Times and publishing essays that announced the appearance of a
sometimes pontifical but illuminating critic. In 1919 two of his
most influential pieces appeared. "Tradition and the Individual
Talent" advocated the "depersonalization" of poetry and a
redirection of interest away from the poet's personality to the
poem, the process, and the tradition to which the poem belonged.
"Hamlet and His Problems" defined "objective correlative," a
term soon to achieve wide currency, as a particular object, act,
sequence, or situation which the poet infuses with a particular
feeling in order to be able to call it up economically by mere
mention of the thing or event. In this essay Eliot demonstrated
the need to cut through received opinion to the literary work
itself. He declared that the "primary problem" in Hamlet is not
the character but the play, because the character has to bear
the burden of an "inexpressible" emotion "in excess of the facts
as they appear."
In his early critical essays, collected as The Sacred Wood
(1920), Homage to John Dryden (1924), Selected Essays: 1917-1932
(1932), and The Use of Poetry and the Use of Criticism (1933),
Eliot pointed to the poets, critics, and cultural figures who
had been helpful to him and might assist others in adjusting
20th-century experience to literary and cultural tradition.
Eliot was drawn to precision and concreteness in language,
seeking "to purify the dialect of the tribe," as he later put
it. He called attention to thematic or musical structure for
communicating complex psychological experience, to past mergers
of thought and feeling that could counteract the modern
"dissociation of sensibility," and to the "mythical method" of
James Joyce's novel Ulysses and of his own poetry - a method
that contrasts the balance and sanity of masterpieces and the
ages that produced them with the contemporary deracination that
isolates individuals culturally and psychologically. With
learned understatement he also assessed critics from Aristotle
to his Harvard teacher Irving Babbitt. He found creative guides
in 19th-century French symbolists; the 17th-century man of
letters John Dryden and his predecessor John Donne; the Jacobean
dramatists; and beyond them Dante, a bitter exile who created a
serene masterpiece.
A rising poet and critic, Eliot made his way into elite British
circles. The Bloomsbury group led by Leonard and Virginia Woolf
welcomed him; as a somewhat British American, both conservative
and liberal leaders could accept him; and young writers on both
sides of the Atlantic offered respect and affection. When
restless Pound left London for Paris in 1920, Eliot quietly
assumed the leadership of England's young intelligentsia.
In "Gerontion" (1920) Eliot offered a shorter, less fragmented
perspective on Prufrock's unfocused world, resorting again to
the interior monologue, this time spoken by a despairing old man
who did not believe or act passionately in youth and now regrets
the spiritual waste of his life.
The Waste Land
While convalescing from exhaustion in 1921, Eliot advanced his
diagnosis of war-enervated, spiritually moribund Europe with a
draft of The Waste Land. This was to become, after publication
in 1922, the most influential and controversial poem of the
century. Eliot corresponded with Pound about the poem, and
Pound's drastic editing compressed it, no doubt unifying and
sharpening it. Eliot acknowledged Pound's help by dedicating the
poem to him in Dante's words as "il miglior fabbro," the better
maker.
In The Waste Land Eliot defines alienation and also indicates a
remedy. Voices such as Prufrock's and Gerontion's are still
heard, but Eliot's spokesman is now a mild Jeremiah, a lonely
prophet or pilgrim who seeks spiritual regeneration in person
and in thought throughout a corrupt city and across a
disoriented continent. Spring is no longer the joyous season of
renewal: "April is the cruelest month," for it calls unwilling
people to physical and spiritual regeneration, to leave off
unsacramental sex and materialistic busy-ness. Eliot had
intensified and extended the varied rhythms and montages of his
earlier interior monologues and now organized them in a
five-part structure deriving from Beethoven's late quarters.
While sordid and distracted images still abound, hopeful ones
have increased, and a greater tension exists between the two.
Social disintegration is equated with a shattered wasteland, but
the poem's central consciousness is nevertheless alert to the
possibility of recreating personal and communal wholes out of
the present and the past, of fertility rites, Christianity,
Indian philosophy, and Western literature and art: "These
fragments I have shored against my ruin."
Also in 1922 Eliot founded the Criterion, an influential little
magazine that appeared until 1939, when he discontinued its
publication. In it he stressed learning, discipline, and the
constant renewal of tradition in literature. The magazine also
reflected his growing religiousness and his devotion to the idea
of a culture stratified by class and unified by Christianity.
As author of The Waste Land and editor of the Criterion, Eliot
assumed a dominant role in literature in America and in Great
Britain. He left Lloyd's Bank in 1925 and joined Faber and
Faber, Ltd., a publisher, eventually rising to a directorship
there.
Meanwhile Eliot was crossing a divide in his career. He ended
his preoccupation with one kind of alienation in "The Hollow
Men" (1925), where the will-less subjects of the poem cluster in
a dead land, waiting like effigies for a galvanic revelation
that does not come. They comment on their lot in a spastic
chorus that includes a children's game song, a fragment of the
Lord's Prayer, and a parody of "world without end" and other
expressions from the Bible and the Book of Common Prayer.
"The Hollow Men," "Gerontion," and The Waste Land compose a
triptych that delineates the estrangement of the self in a
society fallen into secularism, with the central panel, The
Waste Land, suggesting the possibility of salvaging the self by
reconstituting culture out of its scattered parts.
Religious and Cultural Views
In 1927 Eliot became an Anglo-Catholic and a British citizen.
With the heightened social consciousness of the worldwide
economic depression, a reaction set in against his conservatism.
It grew more difficult to explain away on literary grounds the
anti-Semitic references in several of his poems. In After
Strange Gods (1934) Eliot took the literary ideas of his
"Tradition and the Individual Talent" and made them apply to
culture. He also declared that too many freethinking Jews would
be a detriment to the kind of organic Christian culture he
proposed. This work, along with The Idea of a Christian Society
(1939) and Notes toward a Definition of Culture (1948),
indicated Eliot's stand against the pluralistic society of most
Western democracies. Without a reconstruction of Christendom,
the alternative, he felt, was paganism.
With Ash Wednesday (1930), while the literary tide was flowing
Leftward, Eliot emerged as the sole orthodox Christian among
important Anglo-American poets. The title of this six-part poem
refers to the beginning of Lent, the most intense season of
penitence and self-denial in the Christian year. The poem's
central consciousness is an aging penitent closer to the convert
Eliot than his spokesman in any previous major poem. Like his
antecedents, the penitent is alienated - but from God, not from
society or nature; and following the precedents of Dante and St.
John of the Cross, the 16th-century Spanish mystic, he sets out
to draw near the divine presence. The poem is his interior
monologue narrating his progress and praying for guidance. The
tone of unbroken sincerity and passionate yearning, of anxiety
and some joy is new for Eliot. The penitent desires to abandon
ambition, his fading powers of expression, the enticements of
the world, and all that may prevent his mounting the turning
stairs toward salvation. Though his longing for the vision of
God known in childhood is not fulfilled, he progresses toward
it, and he will persist. American critic F. O. Matthiessen
remarked how Eliot with "paradoxical precision in vagueness"
used wonderfully concrete images to convey the mystery of a
spiritual experience.
In 1934 Eliot published After Strange Gods and also brought his
religious and dramatic interests together in The Rock. This
pageant mingles narrative prose with poetic dialogue and
choruses as part of a campaign to raise funds to restore
London's churches. Eliot's speakers ask for visible gathering
places, where the "Invisible Light" can do its work.
In 1935 Murder in the Cathedral, perhaps Eliot's best play, was
produced at Canterbury Cathedral. It has to do with Archbishop
Thomas Becket, who was assassinated before the altar there in
1170. Its theme is the historical competition between church and
state for the allegiance of the individual. Its poetry suggests
blank verse with deviations. Becket prepares, like the penitent
in Ash Wednesday, to accept God's will, knowing that "humanity
cannot bear much reality." After his death, the chorus, speaking
for humanity, confesses that "in life there is not time to
grieve long," even for a martyr.
Four Quartets
In 1936 Eliot concluded his Poems 1909-1935 with "Burnt Norton,"
the first of what became the Four Quartets, an extended work
that proved to be his poetic viaticum. "Burnt Norton," in which
Eliot makes vivid use of his recurring rose-garden symbolism,
grew out of a visit to a deserted Gloucestershire mansion. This
poem engendered three others, each associated with a place.
"East Coker" (1940) is set in the village of Eliot's
Massachusetts ancestors. The last two quartets appeared with the
publication of Four Quartets (1943). The third, "The Dry
Salvages," named for three small islands off the Massachusetts
coast where Eliot vacationed in his youth, draws on his American
experiences; and the fourth, "Little Gidding," derives from a
visit to the site of a religious community, now an Anglican
shrine, where the British king Charles I paused before he
surrendered and went to his death. Here Eliot asks forgiveness
for a lifetime of mistakes, which no doubt includes his possible
anti-Semitism of the years before the war. Each of the quartets
is a separate whole but related to the others. All employ the
thematic structure of music and the five movements of The Waste
Land. The theme, developed differently, is the same in each: a
penitential Eliot seeks the eternal in and through the temporal,
the still dynamic center of the turning world. One may seek or
wait in any place at any time, for God is in all places at all
times. The theme and method continue those of Ash Wednesday, but
the feeling in Four Quartets is less passionately personal, more
compassionate and reconciled. The verse is serene, poised, and
sparsely graceful.
Midway in his composition of Four Quartets, Eliot published Old
Possum's Book of Practical Cats (1939). Here Eliot the fabulist
appeared, and the humorist and wit resurfaced.
The Playwright
The Family Reunion, the first of Eliot's four plays for the
professional stage, appeared in 1939. He later observed that its
hero was a prig but its poetry the best in any of his plays.
This play, like the other three, employs the familiar
conventions of drawing-room comedy to encase religious matters.
The Family Reunion and The Cocktail Party (1940) both involve
analogs with classical Greek dramas. The Confidential Clerk
(1954) and The Elder Statesman (1959) even employ potentially
melodramatic situations, although they are not developed
popularly, for Eliot is preoccupied with individual
religiousness and the self-revelations and mutual understandings
it effects within families. In fact, The Elder Statesman, the
last and simplest of his plays, contending that true love is
beyond verbal expression, is dedicated to his second wife,
Valerie.
The most successful of these plays, The Cocktail Party, enjoyed
respectable runs and revivals in London and New York. It puts
the tension between the temporal and the eternal in more
effective dramatic terms than do the other plays. By means of
the familiar, a cocktail party, Eliot involves the audience in
the unbelievable, a modern martyrdom. He contrasts lives
oriented to the natural with that of a martyred missionary
devoted to the supernatural. At the same time he parallels a
Greek drama more subtly than he did in The Family Reunion.
Eliot's drawing-room plays, however, have only a limited appeal.
The poetry in the last three is unobtrusively effective, carried
by voices moving naturally along the hazy border between poetry
and prose. They are not so much powerful plays as suggestive
ones.
Honour and Old Age
Following World War II there were important changes in Eliot's
life and literary activities. In 1947 his first wife died.
Suffering from nervous debilities, she had been
institutionalized for years, and Eliot had visited her every
Sunday and kept his suffering and deprivation private. In 1948
he received the Nobel Prize and the British Order of Merit, and
the list of his honors continued to grow. Publishing no
important poetry after the Four Quartets, he devoted himself to
the poetic drama, the revitalization of culture, some new
criticism in On Poetry and Poets (1957), the readjustment of
earlier critical judgments, and the editing of collections of
his poetry and plays. In 1957 he married his private secretary,
Valerie Fischer, and enjoyed a felicitous marriage until he died
on Jan. 4, 1965, in London. In accordance with earlier
arrangements his ashes were deposited in St. Michael's Church,
East Coker, his ancestral village, on April 17, 1965.
Many poets and artists paid final tribute to Eliot, including
Pound: "A grand poet and brotherly friend"; W. H. Auden: "A
great poet and a great man"; Allen Tate: "Mr. Eliot was the
greatest poet in English of the 20th century"; Robert Lowell:
"He was a dear personal friend. Our American literature has had
no greater poet or critic"; Robert Penn Warren: "He is the key
figure of our century in America and England, the most powerful
single influence." Avowedly Christian in a secular age, Eliot
tried to revitalize the religious roots of Western culture. His
career recalls the versatile man of letters of the 18th century.
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