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T.S. Eliot's use of the philosophy of time in his poetry d'Easum, Lille 1969

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T. S. ELIOT'S USE OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF TIME IN HIS POETRY by L i l l e d'Easum B.A., University of B r i t i s h Columbia, 1955 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF Master of Arts i n the Department of ENGLISH We accept t h i s thesis as conforming to the required standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA A p r i l , 1969 In p r e s e n t i n g t h i s t h e s i s i n p a r t i a l f u l f i l m e n t o f the r e q u i r e m e n t s f o r an advanced degree a t the U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h C o lumbia, I a g r e e t h a t t h e L i b r a r y s h a l l make i t f r e e l y a v a i l a b l e f o r r e f e r e n c e and s t u d y . I f u r t h e r agree t h a p e r m i s s i o n f o r e x t e n s i v e c o p y i n g o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r s c h o l a r l y p u rposes may be g r a n t e d by the Head o f my Department o r by h i s r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s . I t i s u n d e r s t o o d t h a t c o p y i n g o r p u b l i c a t i o n o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r f i n a n c i a l g a i n s h a l l not be a l l o w e d w i t h o u t my w r i t t e n p e r m i s s i o n . Department o f The U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h Columbia Vancouver 8, Canada ABSTRACT T . S. E l i o t ' s concern w i t h the p h i l o s o p h y of t ime i s evidenced f r o m h i s e a r l i e s t p o e t r y . I t i s p a r t of the development of h i s whole phi losophy; of l i f e : h i s engagement w i t h r e a l i t y , h i s concept of c o n s c i o u s n e s s , the f u n c t i o n o f h i s t o r y and myth i n h i s l i f e , and h i s concept of "something b e y o n d " , a harmony f o r which he i s s t r i v i n g . A l t h o u g h E l i o t was a s e r i o u s s tudent of p h i l o s o p h y , h i s poe t ry i s not p h i l o s o p h i c a l i n the sense t h a t he i s r e c o r d i n g a l r e a d y f o r m u l a t e d i d e a s . The poetry , i s i t s e l f p a r t of the p r o c e s s , the working out and r e a l i z a t i o n of h i s p h i l o s o p h y , E l i o t ' s concept of t ime i n c l u d e s two streams which e x i s t s i m u l t a n e o u s l y , and which i n t e r s e c t a t s i g n i f i c a n t moments. These a r e t ime t e m p o r a l , i n which man must l i v e h i s l i f e i n the changing phenomenal w o r l d , and the T i m e l e s s , noumenal w o r l d which he encounters i n these s i g n i f i c a n t moments. He may l i v e i n phenomenal t ime i n e i t h e r of two ways, w i t h o u t hope o r p u r p o s e , so t h a t he i s " t i m e - r i d d e n " , o r he can l i v e i n t ime t e l e o l o g i c a l l y , s t r i v i n g f o r the under -s tanding of the d e s i g n i n t o which he must f i t i n order t o a c h i e v e the harmony of the s t i l l p o i n t a t the i n t e r s e c t i o n of t ime and the T i m e l e s s . The harmony toward which he i s s t r i v -i n g i n h i s d i a l e c t i c s t r u g g l e i n t ime i s complete wholeness of p e r s o n a l i t y and s p i r i t u a l t ranscendence . 2 E l i o t ' s p h i l o s o p h y of t ime and consc iousness develops i n t h r e e s t a g e s . In The Waste Land p e r i o d , i n which man i s t i m e - r i d d e n and u n c o n s c i o u s , he i s unable t o confront t ime and c r e a t e h i s own be ing by r e c o n c i l i n g h i s present w i t h h i s pas t or " o t h e r " . I n Ash Wednesday he sees h i s o ther f o r the f i r s t t ime through the L a d y , the "anima" o r p r i m o r d i a l image of h i s own u n c o n s c i o u s . She b r i n g s him hope and energy , and plunges him i n t o the d i a l e c t i c s t r u g g l e i n t e l e o l o g i c a l t i m e . Marina and the c h i l d h o o d memories of h i s "Landscape" poems g i v e more " h i n t s and guesses" and images f o r moments of " p a r t i a l e c s t a s y " . In Four % i a r t e t s he r e c o n c i l e s a l l the o p p o s i t i o n s i n h i s l i f e and poe t ry t o a c h i e v e the harmony of the t ranscendent s t i l l p o i n t . E l i o t ' s medium f o r the progress through t ime and the development of consc iousness i s a s e r i e s of p r o t a g o n i s t s through which the poet c a s t s o f f masks of the s e l f , s u r r e n d e r -i n g h i m s e l f as he i s a t the moment t o something more v a l u a b l e . P a r a l l e l t o the p o e t ' s s t r u g g l e i n t ime t o ach ieve the s p i r i t u a l harmony of the A b s o l u t e , i s h i s s t r u g g l e i n p o e t r y t o get the b e t t e r of words . The c o n f l i c t w i t h words , h i s " r a i d on the i n a r t i c u l a t e " , i s h i s s t r u g g l e i n t ime t o f i n d new ways t o express changing concepts a n d , u l t i m a t e l y t o p r e -sent i n p o e t r y those " f r o n t i e r s of consc iousness beyond which words f a i l though meanings e x i s t " . The techniques which he uses t o ach ieve these aims a r e the c o n t i n u i t y and growing s i g n i f i c a n c e of h i s images, h i s symbolism and h i s " m y t h i c a l method", the c o n t r a s t i n g of the s t e r i l i t y of contemporary l i f e 3 w i t h the l i v i n g myth of e a r l i e r t i roes . F i n a l l y , I b e l i e v e t h a t E l i o t ' s achievement i n Four % t a r t e t s i s not n e c e s s a r i l y the e x p r e s s i o n of C h r i s t i a n dogma, but t h a t h i s s t r i v i n g i n t ime f o r the harmony of the A b s o l u t e of the T i m e l e s s , and i t s r e a l i z a t i o n i n p o e t r y , i s an a r t i s t i c c r e a t i o n which i s h i s own p r i v a t e myth. S u p e r v i s o r TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter Page I . PHILOSOPHY IN POETRY . 1 I I . THE WASTE LAND PERIOD 8 I I I . THE ASH WEDNESDAY PERIOD 24 I V . THE FOUR (QUARTETS PERIOD 48 V . TIME AS TECHNIQUE 85 FOOTNOTES 95 SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY 101 CHAPTER I PHILOSOPHY IN POETRY In his 1920 a r t i c l e on Dante, T. S. E l i o t says that, "the effort of the philosopher proper, the man who i s trying to deal with ideas themselves, and the effort of the poet who may be trying to realize the ideas, cannot be carried on at the same time."/1" Eliot believes that the original form of the philosophy cannot be poetic, but that poetry can be penetrated by a philosophic idea after the idea has reached the point of immediate acceptance, when i t has become almost a biological modification, that i s , when i t has become organi-cally integrated in his whole personality, physical, mental, emotional. When a poet has absorbed a philosophy into his being, with the mutations and colorings which his individual intellect and emotions make inevitable, then he can make i t truly his own by "realizing" i t in poetry. As D. E. S. Maxwell says, "E l i o t i s speaking to the mind in terms of the senses." 2 E l i o t does not deal with philosophic ideas as a matter of argument: he does not explain doctrine nor attempt to con-vert the reader. He does communicate something of what he feels in apprehending his ideas. In his poetry, he expresses the emotional equivalent of thought. He converts the experi-ence of states of being into words, into "the complete consort dancing together" ( L i t t l e Giddinq. V, 223). 3 With words, Eliot creates a b r i l l i a n t texture of tone and image. With imagery derived from tradition and from his own experience he achieves an "easy commerce of the old and 4 the new." With sequence,.repetition and interchange of image and motif he creates his world of experience. With lines like Whisper of running streams, and summer lightning. The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry, The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony Of death and birth. (East Coker, III, 29-33) he sets up echoes which vibrate in mind and emotion, and which can only be called "poetry'' - not theology, not philosophy, but poetry. In his 1929 essay on Dante El i o t says, M I t i s a test (a positive test, I do not assert that i t i s always valid nega-t i v e l y ) , that genuine poetry can communicate before i t i s understood.' This test stands up for most of Eliot's poetry. Furthermore, i f we mean by "understanding" the a b i l i t y to give a prose paraphrase, then complete understanding i s beyond our reach. Nor i s such an understanding desirable. As Northrop Frye says: We are always wrong, in the context of criticism, when we say "this poem means l i t e r a l l y " - and then give a prose paraphrase of i t . A l l paraphrases abstract a secondary or outward meaning. Understanding a poem l i t e r a l l y means under-standing the whole of i t , as a poem, and as i t stands. Such understanding begins in a complete surrender of the mind and senses to the impact of the work as a whole, and proceeds through the effort to unite the symbols toward a simultaneous perception of the unity of the structure." 3 O n l y when eur minds can respond t o the poem as a whole can we apprehend i t s meaning. A c t u a l l y , w i t h E l i o t , t h i s concept must be extended t o the whole corpus of h i s p o e t r y , because i t i s o n l y when we can respond t o h i s poe t ry as a whole , t h a t we can a c h i e v e a v i s i o n of i t s meaning i n terms of h i s p h i l o s o p h y of t i m e . The c l i m a x of E l i o t ' s achievement i n r e a l i z i n g h i s p h i l o s o p h y of t ime i n poet ry i s reached i n Four  Q u a r t e t s , of which R i c h a r d Lea has s t a t e d : " N o t h i n g g r e a t e r has ever been w r i t t e n i n the E n g l i s h l a n g u a g e . " ^ E l i o t remarked of Shakespeare t h a t he "was occupied w i t h the s t r u g g l e - which a l o n e c o n s t i t u t e s l i f e f o r a poet -t o transmute h i s p e r s o n a l and. p r i v a t e agonies i n t o something r i c h and s t r a n g e , something u n i v e r s a l and i m p e r s o n a l . " I n t h i s essay I s h a l l attempt t o show how E l i o t t u r n s h i s s t r u g g l e toward a p h i l o s o p h y of t ime i n t o poet ry w h i c h , l i k e S h a k e s p e a r e ' s , i s u n i v e r s a l and i m p e r s o n a l . E l i o t ' s concept of t ime i n c l u d e s two streams which e x i s t s i m u l t a n e o u s l y , and which i n t e r s e c t a t s i g n i f i c a n t moments. The theme of t ime and e t e r n i t y i s interwoven i n the f a b r i c of b i s thought and p o e t r y * A n d , as we must respond t o h i s poems as p a r t of an o r g a n i c and d e v e l o p i n g w h o l e , so a l s o we must understand h i s p h i l o s o p h y of t ime i n r e l a t i o n t o the development of h i s whole p h i l o s o p h y of l i f e : h i s engagement w i t h r e a l i t y ; h i s moments o f " c o n s c i o u s n e s s " ; the f u n c t i o n o f memory, of h i s t o r y and of myth i n h i s l i f e ; and h i s concept 4 of "something beyond", that something toward which he i s forever striving. When he was sixteen he wrote a poem about time and space which shows his early interest in the mysteries of time and eternity. If Time and Space, as Sages say, Are things which cannot be, The sun which does not feel decay No greater i s than we. So why, Love, should we ever pray To liv e a century? The butterfly that lives a day Has lived eternity.9 In a variant version entitled "Song", published in the Harvard Advocate (June 1907), the last four lines of the stanza were changed to: But let us liv e while yet we may* While love and l i f e are free, For time i s time, and runs away, Though sages disagree.1° The young poet now seems less concerned with the phenomenal nature of time than with i t s Marvellian aspect. Although at f i r s t reading the concept of time in Eliot's poetry may seem ambiguous, and his expression of i t seems to subsume the ideas, modes and imagery of many philoso-phies, including those of the Bhaqavad-Gita. of Heraclitus, Henri Bergson and F. Bradley, his concept of time i s actually teleological. In his philosophy he i s striving toward a purpose, a f i n a l cause, an "end" which already exists, 5 has e x i s t e d a p r i o r i . f rom the " b e g i n n i n g " , above and beyond the p u r e l y phenomenal, w a i t i n g f o r him t o f i n d h i s p l a c e i n the d e s i g n o r " p a t t e r n " . I n t h a t the end i s a l r e a d y t h e r e , beyond mere human nature and phenomenal t i m e , E l i o t ' s t r a n -s c e n d e n t a l i s m d i f f e r s f rom t h a t of Emerson and Thoreau, and t h e r o m a n t i c i s m of Goethe and C o l e r i d g e , which p l a c e the source of s p i r i t u a l energy w i t h i n the i n d i v i d u a l s e l f , a t t r i b u t i n g u n l i m i t e d p o t e n t i a l t o the human mind and s p i r i t . F o r the romant ics God o r the t r a n s c e n d e n t a l i s p o t e n t i a l i n man: f o r E l i o t i t i s something beyond, an end toward which man must s t r i v e . F o r E l i o t t ime i n c l u d e s two a s p e c t s : t i m e , or the t e m p o r a l , moving i n the phenomenal w o r l d ; and the T i m e l e s s , o r E t e r n i t y , t ranscendent and A b s o l u t e . The two aspects of t ime e x i s t s i m u l t a n e o u s l y . I n the phenomenal w o r l d t ime may be s a i d t o move h o r i z o n t a l l y on a lower l e v e l , i n space . The noumenal T i m e l e s s w o r l d i s a lways p r e s e n t , on a h i g h e r l e v e l , a v a i l a b l e t o man i n t ranscendent moments: . . . t r a n s e c t i n g , b i s e c t i n g the w o r l d of t i m e , a moment i n t ime but not l i k e a moment of t ime . . . . (Choruses f rom The Rock . V I l j H and so may be thought of as the s t i l l p o i n t , and v e r t i c a l . The s t i l l p o i n t , the p o i n t of i n t e r s e c t i o n between t ime and the T i m e l e s s , between movement and s t i l l n e s s , i s the "never and a lways" o f t i m e , the "unmoved mover" of space . I n t ime the s t i l l p o i n t i s the " e t e r n a l p r e s e n t " , o u t s i d e the c y c l e 6 of p a s t , present and f u t u r e . I n space i t i s the mathemati-c a l l y "pure p o i n t " , e x i s t i n g i n the centre of a r e v o l v i n g w h e e l , not p a r t of i t s movement but expressed i n r e l a t i o n t o i t s movement. P a r a l l e l t o the r e l a t i o n s h i p between t ime and the T i m e l e s s i s the r e l a t i o n s h i p between the phenomenal, o r the w o r l d of n a t u r e , and the noumenal, o r the w o r l d of the s p i r i t . Man must l i v e h i s l i f e phenomenally i n t ime and space . But he can do t h i s i n one of two ways: wi thout purpose or hope, p a s s i v e l y l i k e the shadowy " h o l l o w men" or " t w i t t e r i n g " l i k e the a i m l e s s men of the Waste L a n d ; o r he can l i v e i n t ime t e l e o l o g i c a l l y , s t r i v i n g f o r the u n d e r s t a n d i n g , the Word of the s t i l l p o i n t . F o r E l i o t the concept of l i v i n g i n t ime t e l e o l o g i -c a l l y i n c l u d e s a l s o h i s concept of human consc iousness and r e a l i t y . F o r t h i s concept he i s w i t h o u t doubt i n d e b t e d t o the p h i l o s o p h y of F . H . B r a d l e y , e s p e c i a l l y t o B r a d l e y ' s 12 Appearance and R e a l i t y . B r a d l e y sees r e a l i t y not as the o b j e c t s , the t r e e s , r o c k s , a n i m a l s , b i r d s , p e o p l e , machines and events w i t h which he comes i n contac t i n the phenomenal w o r l d , but as the r e l a t i o n between the s e l f and the n o n - s e l f ( the o b j e c t s and events i n h i s e n v i r o n m e n t ) , o r the impres -s i o n which the exper ience of these o b j e c t s and events makes upon the i n t e r p r e t i n g c o n s c i o u s n e s s . B r a d l e y c a l l s these 1*3 i m p r e s s i o n s " f i n i t e c e n t r e s " of e x p e r i e n c e , and E l i o t 14 t r a n s l a t e s the term i n t o "immediate e x p e r i e n c e " . 7 F o r B r a d l e y and E l i o t these f i n i t e c e ntres change every i n s t a n t and each new f i n i t e c e n t r e marks a new o r i e n t a -t i o n of s e l f and n o n - s e l f . S i n c e these i n c l u d e not only the present s e l f and n o n - s e l f , but elements o f the p a s t , o r "other", as w e l l as seeds of the f u t u r e , they must be l o c a t e d i n time. And, f o r both B r a d l e y and E l i o t , these f i n i t e c e n t r e s are t e l e o l o g i c a l because they are always reachi n g f o r , indeed are a l r e a d y a p a r t o f , the A b s o l u t e . E l i o t b e l i e v e s t h a t modern technology has reduced man t o the s t a t u s of an " o b j e c t " , d r i f t i n g a i m l e s s l y through l i f e . F o r such a man, time i s on l y an agent of decay. He i s "t i m e - r i d d e n " . To l i v e i n time t e l e o l o g i c a l l y , man must c r e a t e and a f f i r m h i s being i n every moment. In moments of e s p e c i a l i n s i g h t , o r consciousness, he achieves the f u l l measure of h i s b e i n g . He i s i n touch w i t h r e a l i t y , o r the T i m e l e s s , which i s symbolized by the s t i l l p o i n t of the t u r n i n g world. E l i o t was a s e r i o u s student of p h i l o s o p h y , and h i s concept of time i s based i n h i s s t u d i e s of such p h i l o s o p h e r s as H e r a c l i t u s , A r i s t o t l e , P l a t o , S t . Augustine, Kant, B r a d l e y , W i l l i a m James and Bergson. But the p o i n t of t h i s essay i s to show how E l i o t r e a l i z e d h i s experience of time i n h i s p o e t r y . 8 CHAPTER II THE WASTE LAND PERIOD I f we think of E l i o t ' s poetry i n terms of Dante's Divine Comedy. we can equate his three approaches to time and his three stages i n the development of consciousness to the Inferno, the Purgatorio. and the Paradiso. His early poetry, i n which man i s "time-ridden", i s p a r a l l e l to Dante's Inferno; the Ash Wednesday period, with i t s "hints and guesses", to the Purgatorio; and the Four Quartets. with i t s c o n c i l i a t i o n , to the Paradiso. E l i o t ' s medium f o r the progress through the three stages of time and consciousness i s h i s series of more or less personal protagonists. These may be compared to Yeats' a n t i -masks or Pound's personae. which Pound describes as the "casting o f f [of] . . . complete masks of the s e l f i n each p o e m . T h u s the poet avoids the sentimentality, "the turning loose of emotion", which invests the poetry of the poet who writes of his own emotions. Again we draw a p a r a l l e l to the Divine Comedy. In h i s 1920 essay on Dante E l i o t asserts that "no emotion i s contemplated by Dante purely for i t s e l f . The emotion of the person, or the emotion with which our attitude appropriately invests the person,; i s never l o s t or diminished, i s always preserved e n t i r e , but i s modified by the p o s i t i o n -assigned to the person i n the eternal scheme, i s colored by the atmosphere of that person's residence i n one of the three 2 worlds." 9 Each of these protagonists i s an objective c o r r e l a t i v e f o r a state of mind, or consciousness, and to present them E l i o t experiments with the techniques of i n t e r i o r monologue and stream-of-consciousness. But h i s use of the word "consciousness'' i n d i f f e r e n t contexts causes some semantic d i f f i c u l t i e s . We must keep i n mind that f o r E l i o t there are stages of consciousness, which f o r some, develop i n time. In The Waste Land, period he uses the word with approximately the same meaning as that of William James, who was a professor at Harvard while E l i o t was reading philosophy there. James, who coined the term "stream-of-consciousness", sees conscious-ness as a "sensibly continuous", always changing state of mind, which i s active, s e l e c t i v e , interested, but a purely phenomenal experience, i n which i n t e r e s t and w i l l are primary.^ Some of the protagonists i n E l i o t ' s early poetry express t h i s interest and w i l l i h moments of yearning, l i k e Prufrock when he hears the mermaids singing. Others, l i k e Sweeney, are not conscious at a l l . In the Ash Wednesday period the protagonist becomes aware of a higher consciousness, but i s s t i l l too weak to con-front time t e l e o l o g i c a l l y . In the Four % i a r t e t s stage, "to be conscious i s not to be i n time", so that consciousness becomes transcendent, and part of the Timeless. In E l i o t ' s poetry up to 1925, which may be, c a l l e d the Inferno or Waste Land period, man ex i s t s i n phenomenal time without hope or purpose, unable to confront time or to create h i s own being. Prufrock, his f i r s t r e a l protagonist, i s 10 obsessed with, but u t t e r l y defeated by, time. For Prufrock there w i l l be time For the yellow smoke that s l i d e s along the street • * • To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet • • • . . . f o r a l l the works and days of hands That l i f t and drop a question on your plate. . . . f o r a hundred indecisions And f o r a hundred visions and r e v i s i o n s . . . . to turn back and descend the s t a i r . For decisions and revisions which a minute w i l l reverse. Prufrock asks himself "Do I dare / Disturb the universe?" But he does not dare. For, although he has "known them a l l already, known them a l l " , he i s incapable of redeeming his past. He cannot use his past to create his being i n the struggle between his past and his present consciousness. Prufrock i s aware of time, but he i s unable to cope with i t , so he i s crushed by i t . He has had the experience but missed the meaning. He has "heard the mermaids singing, each to each", but says, with a touch of bathos, "I do not think that they w i l l sing to me." His being i s s t i l l - b o r n , smothered by the 11 phenomenological aspect of time, and he i s l i t t l e better than an automaton, as he mechanically measures out his l i f e "with coffee spoons". In "Preludes" we f i n d the protagonist caught i n the c o n f l i c t between the private world of his consciousness and the d i f f e r e n t forms of phenomenal time - winter evening, smoky days, six o'clock - i n his Boston environment of sordid streets and furnished rooms. The morning comes to consciousness Of f a i n t stale smells of beer From the sawdust-trampled street With i t s muddy feet that press To early coffee-stands. E l i o t f e e l s that there i s a natural resonance between every emotion and i t s object. The poems of t h i s early period are an expression of the struggle of a developing conscious-ness to become one with h i s non-being, with h i s environment, both time and space. But E l i o t i s not so much expressing a preconceived idea or emotion, as he i s trying to r e a l i z e , or give r e a l i t y to the new state of consciousness i n his poetry. One cannot f a i l to grasp the i n t e n s i t y of the c o n f l i c t i n such l i n e s as: His soul stretched t i g h t across the skies That fade behind a c i t y block Or trampled by i n s i s t e n t feet At four or f i v e or six o'clock. Mechanical time, the time of the clock, non-human, and the time of human habit, so enervating, intrude again and again, 12 crushing h i s being. The momentary yearning f o r something s i g n i f i c a n t creeps i n t o the poem i n the "notion of some i n f i n i t e l y gentle / I n f i n i t e l y suffering thing." But the moment passes. The sardonic denial of being moved follows with "Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh". In "Rhapsody on a Windy Night", i t i s "Twelve o'clock" and "Midnight shakes the memory" - memory, the voice of his past - but he can neither understand nor redeem i t , so that i t only "throws up high and dry / A crowd of twisted things", and, as always, time i s the v i c t o r with "The l a s t twist of the knife " . In these early poems E l i o t often uses streets as his objective c o r r e l a t i v e f o r the passing of time. Prufrock wanders d i f f i d e n t l y i n Streets that follow l i k e a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question... In the sordid streets of Boston consciousness i s concerned with "stale smells of beer" and "sparrows i n gutters", and the passer-by with muddy s k i r t s wears "An aimless smile that hovers i n the a i r " . But t h i s aimlessness, or lack of teleo-l o g i c a l time, i s not confined to the down-at-heel streets. In the more genteel streets, when "evening quickens f a i n t l y i n the street, / Wakening the appetites of l i f e i n some", i t brings only the s t e r i l i t y of the Boston Evening Transcript 13 and the epigrams of Rochefoucauld, These people e x i s t i n a s u p e r f i c i a l world, insensible to both physical and s p i r i t u a l l i f e , waiting f o r l i f e to pass them by. Aunt Helen and her parrot had already succumbed to time, but "The dresden clock continued t i c k i n g on the mantel-piece". Among the decayed streets of Venice, Burbank perceives that "The smoky candle end of time / Declines". Meditating on "Time's ruins," he sees St. Mark's l i o n s , symbol of the arrogant grandeur of Venice and asks, Who clipped the l i o n ' s wings And f l e a ' d h i s rump and pared his n a i l s ? In Venice time has been only a destructive element. The Waste Land i s the sort of poem which must be read and re-read to be f u l l y or even p a r t i a l l y grasped. Not only must i t be re-read i f i t i s to give a v i s i o n of the whole from i t s parts, but i t must be re-read f o r i t s place i n the stream of poetry which ends with Four^Quartets. Most of the c r i t i c s of the age i n which the poem appeared saw i t as an expression of the Zeitgeist, or s p i r i t of the time, the disillusionment of t h e i r generation. E l i o t denied that he had intended i t as such and, i n the l i g h t of h i s l a t e r poetry, we can see that i t was more than the expression of the d i s i l l u s i o n of the " l o s t generation". I t manifests the universal longing f o r wholeness and order. I f the Waste Land i s H e l l , then the seeds of the marriage of Heaven and H e l l are buried i n i t s darkest depths of despair. In the fragments and broken images 14 we f i n d the longing for wholeness; i n the chaos of events and times, the longing f o r form and order. Unless one thinks i n terms of time, the f u l l s i g n i f i -cance of time i n the poem escapes notice and, as f a r as I know, has escaped notice. But time appears i n The Waste Land i n myriad shapes and forms. The f i r s t word of the poem i s " A p r i l " . A p r i l i s the c r u e l l e s t month. • « • Summer surprised us. • • • I read, much of the night, and go south i n the winter. .' . • . . . a closed car at four. • • • . . . a weekend at the Metropole. In the l i n e s "But at my back i n a cold b l a s t I hear / The r a t t l e of the bones", Marvell's "winged chariot" leads no longer to "vast Eternity" but only to the " r a t t l e of the bones, the chuckle spread from ear to ear", or to a grinning s k u l l . The poem i s a complex, a chaos of peoples, places and times. The chaos r e f l e c t s the confusion i n the l i f e and minds of the time. We should remember that the period i n which the poem was written, the post-World-War-I period, was one of cataclysmic upheaval i n Western thought. The basic concepts 15 of time and space, matter and energy, reality and conscious-ness, the very meaning and worth of l i f e i t s e l f were being exploded, and often there was nothing to take their place. It was a time of confusion and anqustia. Eliot's 1921 art i c l e on the metaphysical poets gives some clues to what he was trying to do in the poem. _He says that MOur c i v i l i z a -tion comprehends great variety and complexity, and this variety and complexity, playing upon a refined sensibility, must produce various complex resul t s . " 4 He says that the poets of the seventeenth century had this kind of sensibility which could devour any kind of experience, and he quotes Samuel Johnson's remark that in metaphysical poetry the most heterogeneous ideas are yoked by violence together. In The Waste Land E l i o t i s engaged, as the metaphysical poets were, in yoking together the heterogeneous ideas of many peoples in many times. In the chaos of the Waste Land present, past, and future are simultaneous, lacking purpose or form or order. A l l the people are united in Tiresias, that lonely prophet "throbbing between two lives"; (And I Tiresias have foresuffered a l l Enacted on this same divan or bed; I who have sat by Thebes below the wall And walked below the lowest of the dead.) Although the poem, like a Greek tragedy, has but one stage - post-World-War-I London, the Unreal City, E l i o t extends the themes in both space and time. Among the chorus 16 of v o i c e s a r e not only the v o i c e of T i r e s i a s , but a l s o the v o i c e s of London and of B a u d e l a i r e ' s P a r i s , and v o i c e s from Germany, R u s s i a , L i t h u a n i a , A u s t r i a , Jerusalem, Athens and A l e x a n d r i a ; and of o t h e r times: the times of E l i z a b e t h , Dante, C l e o p a t r a , S a i n t Augustine and Buddha. P r o j e c t e d through the consciousness of the p r o t a g o n i s t wandering through the Waste Land of both time and space i n a s o r t of "cosmic homeless-ness"V the theme has u n i v e r s a l v a l i d i t y . The f a c t t h a t the p r o t a g o n i s t i s moving i n a chaos of time and space suggests t h a t he i s seeking form and o r d e r i n time, though as yet he has n e i t h e r the understanding of h i s "end" nor the hope of a t t a i n i n g i t . What has always been c l e a r i n The Waste Land i s t h a t , as A. G. George.says, i t i s "imbued through and through w i t h the f e a r o f m o r t a l i t y ; the t r a g i c sense of l i f e which s p r i n g s from an o b s e s s i o n w i t h the f e a r of death and the l o n g i n g f o r p e r s o n a l i m m o r t a l i t y . " Time r e p r e s e n t s the i n e x o r a b l e march towards death, "the r a t t l e o f the bones". The bar-tender's i n s i s t e n t "HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME" i s a s i n i s t e r warning of the i n e v i t a b i l i t y of death f o r the s o r d i d c h a r a c t e r s i n the bar; the "Good n i g h t , l a d i e s , good n i g h t , sweet l a d i e s , good n i g h t , good n i g h t " suggests the t r a g i c death of O p h e l i a . The c o n j u n c t i o n of these two scenes c o n t r a s t s not only the s o r d i d and the t r a g i c , but a l s o the p r e s e n t and the p a s t , the p e r s o n a l and the h i s t o r i c a l . As E r i c Thompson p o i n t s out, "the p r o t a g o n i s t i s caught i n a present t h a t i s i n the g r i p of the p a s t , and the past keeps e r u p t i n g i n t o the present, demanding acknowledgment and acceptance of am entity which i s always now. One of the techniques which E l i o t uses to emphasize the time element and to keep h i s actions simultaneous i s his use of tenses. He states that " A p r i l i s the c r u e l l e s t month", then, almost immediately he moves into the past tense with "Winter kept us warm" and "Summer surprised us". Marie and the sled are i n the past tense, "Down we went", but then, i n the mountains, "you f e e l free" i s i n the present, as i s "I read, much of the night, and go south i n the winter". Even more s i g n i f i c a n t i s the change of tense as E l i o t r e c a l l s . • • Philomel, by the barbarous king So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale F i l l e d a l l the desert with i n v i o l a b l e voice And s t i l l she c r i e d , and s t i l l the world pursues, "Jug Jug" to d i r t y ears. Change of tense from past to present - f o r s t i l l the world partakes of her rape. The people of the Waste Land p e r s i s t i n the errors of the past, yet f a i l to p r o f i t by the wisdom of the past. So, although they know that the imperatives of the Upanishads are "Give...Sympathize...Control", they lack the w i l l to act, to confront time. The "Shantih shantih shantih" i s simply repeated without a period. I t goes on and on, without an "end". They cannot redeem time. This i s the psychic agony of the Waste Land and of twentieth-century man. 18 In The Waste Land E l i o t uses history as a dimension of his perception of time. Like Pound and Yeats, he i s a poet of h i s t o r y . In The Waste Land we perceive the co-existence of a l l peoples and discover meaning through the experience of the mingling of times. Since E l i o t i s search-ing f o r a Golden Age, one i n which man i s v i t a l , i n t u i t i v e and creative, he often contrasts the human consciousness of his own age to that of the past, i n e i t h e r history or myth, usually to the detriment of the present. In a "Game of Chess" he contrasts the passion of Cleopatra and Dido with the neurotic nervousness of the modern woman of culture, incapable of passion, and with the sex l i f e of the Cockney wife, sordid and vulgar. In "The F i r e Sermon" he contrasts the i d e a l love of Spenser's "Prothalamion" to the passion-less a f f a i r of the t y p i s t and the casual sex adventures of the Thames maidens. Writing of E l i o t ' s use of history and myth i n The Waste Land, Georges C a t t u i says: A mere name i s enough to set his imagination f l y i n g over the centuries. By a kind of sympathetic magic the poet penetrates the heart of "the other", he is_ the other, the protagonist, the deceased, bridging at w i l l the distance between centuries, taking possession of a dead world, breath-ing the atmosphere of the past and then emerging i n time regained . . . . I t i s not surprising that, i n order to escape from the shame of time and the tyranny of space, E l i o t has i d e n t i f i e d the soul's l i b e r a t i o n with the access to the apocalyptic world . . . . The boredom, the ennui he describes i s the moral sickness of mankind, out of harmony with himself, of poor humanity vegetating s u l l e n l y with passive resignation on i t s doomed pastures.7 19 But as f a r back as 1915, i n "Mr. Apollinax", E l i o t was using people from myth and history to give richness or contrast to characters i n the modern scene, and to give meaning to the present. Mr. Apollinax himself i s situated i n the present. But he i s a composite fig u r e who might include the aura of Apollo, bearing l i g h t , poetry and proph-ecy; of Apollinarus, fourth-century bishop of Laodicea, who propounded the theory that C h r i s t possessed the Logos i n place of the human mind, and possibly of his own contemporary, Guillaume A p o l l i n a i r e , the French poet who was a leader i n that r e s t l e s s period of technical innovation i n which E l i o t began seriously writing poetry. In "Mr. Apollinax", a s a t i r e on the i n t e l l e c t u a l who l i v e s by ideas alone, E l i o t presents his protagonist, i n a s u r r e a l i s t passage, as a "head": I looked f o r the head of Mr. Apollinax r o l l i n g under a chair Or grinning over a screen With seaweed i n his ha i r . I heard the beat of centaur 1s hoofs over the hard t u r f As his dry and passionate talk devoured the afternoon. This complex l i t t l e poem i s one of the f i r s t i n which E l i o t used h i s "mythical method" to throw l i g h t on the present by juxtaposing i t with the past. As E l i o t himself says, he, l i k e Joyce, uses the mythical method to c o n t r o l , order, and give "shape and significance to the immense panorama which i s contemporary h i s t o r y . " 8 20 In "Gerontion" the protagonist o b j e c t i f i e s the history of the "decayed house"of Western Europe i n i t s secular and commercial period, " B l i s t e r e d i n B r u s s e l l s , patched i n London". Gerontion has neither the v i t a l i t y of the Greeks f i g h t i n g f o r t h e i r l i v e s at the "hot gates" of Thermopylae, nor the vigor of the "warm r a i n " of the "new" t r o p i c a l countries of A f r i c a and A s i a . Gerontion knows about the infant Jesus and the Incarnation, "The word within the word, unable to speak a word". They "excite the membrane", the brain, but the "sense has cooled". C h r i s t l i v e d i n the phenomenal world and experi-enced R e a l i t y through his passion and s a c r i f i c e , but Gerontion can only r a t i o n a l i z e about r e a l i t y . He recognizes the perspec-t i v e of history with i t s "cunning passages and contrived corridors" but i t i s "memory only, reconsidered passion". The tenants of his decayed house are now c o l d l y i n t e l l e c t u a l , lacking emotional and s p i r i t u a l v i t a l i t y . They are "Thoughts of a dry brain i n a dry season". They are moving i n time, but without purpose, unable to make use of h i s t o r y , or the Incarna-t i o n , to redeem time. E l i o t emphasizes the s t e r i l i t y of modern man by con-t r a s t i n g his two characters, Prufrock and Sweeney, who have become the prototypes of the l i t e r a r y d i l e t t a n t e and the modern anti-hero, to v i t a l characters drawn from myth and history. Prufrock, i n h i b i t e d , sexually impotent and paralyzed by s e l f -consciousness, says "Noi I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be". Rather he i s Lazarus, "come from the dead / Come back to t e l l you a l l . I s h a l l t e l l you a l l - -". But of course 21 he does not, he cannot. His very words dis s i p a t e into nothingness. Sweeney, on the other hand, i s the a n t i t h e s i s of consciousness. He i s simply a b i o l o g i c a l organism, coarse, ape-like and sexually vulgar. He i s unconscious of time or of the need to confront i t . He could never suffer f o r his passion as Ariadne or Philomel or Agamemnon did. His sexual encounters, casual and b e s t i a l , are confined to a whore house where, with "Gesture of orang-outang [he] / Rises from the sheets i n steam". Sweeney i s E l i o t ' s i r o n i c denial of Emerson's thesis that h i s t o r y i s the "lengthened shadow" of a man. Emerson "had not seen the silhouette / Of Sweeney straddled i n the sun". E l i o t believes that one of the functions of imagina-t i o n i s t o fuse the primitive with the c i v i l i z e d . Since the Consciousness of primitive man i s expressed i n myth, E l i o t often uses myth to fuse or contrast the present with the past. In h i s "London Letter" he remarked that The Golden Bough could be read i n two ways: as "a c o l l e c t i o n of entertaining myths, or as a revelation of that vanished mind of which our mind i s a continuation."^ The main theme of The Waste Land i s the s t e r i l i t y , emotional and s p i r i t u a l , of man i n twentieth-century society. The poet emphasizes t h i s " l i v i n g death" by contrasting i t with the s a c r i f i c i a l death of myth, which brings f o r t h new l i f e . He uses modern London, with echoes of Dante's Inferno and Baudelaire's "fourmillante cite'" f o r the Unreal C i t y , his 22 objective correlative for the horrendous effect on the sensi-tive mind of the breakdown in Western c i v i l i z a t i o n after World War I, contrasting i t with the v i t a l i t y which i s implicit in the f e r t i l i t y renewal rites of the ancient myths, which El i o t had found in Jessie P. Weston's From Ritual to Romance and Si r James G. Frazer's Golden Bough. As Maud Bodkin says, the poem achieves a translation of the primordial image into the language of the present through i t s gathering into simultaneity of impression, images from the remote past with incidents and phrases of the everyday present.^"0 The Waste Land, a "heap of broken images", i s a land inhabited by "crowds of people walking in a ring", motion without purpose. A l l the cosmic processes are reversed; the natural cycle of birth, growth, sex and death are perverted. In their place we have abortion, the planting of corpses, the sterile sexuality of the typist, and the living dead, the "crowd that flowed over London Bridge". Tiresias, "the old man with wrinkled dugs", unites man and woman, time and space, in one terrible metaphor: the Unreal Gity on the Thames-Acheron. The people, "withered stumps of time", are "clutching" nervously at sensation instead of meaningful experience. They lack the w i l l to confront time and to create their own beings. The people of The Hollow Men are suffering from the same psychic agony. Their actions are reduced to the status of r i t u a l , the refuge of those who lack the i n i t i a t i v e to act on their own. Since they cannot confront time, they act and react as helpless automatons. They try to pray but the 23 p a r a l y z i n g "shadow" f a l l s between the concept ion and r e a l i z a -t i o n of every i m p u l s e , every response . The r e c u r r e n t images of s t e r i l i t y , the a b s t r a c t i o n s and the weak rhythms which E l i o t u s e s , e s p e c i a l l y i n P a r t V of t h e poem, f i n a l l y d i s s o l v e i n t o the r i t u a l and metre of a nursery rhyme - s i g n i f y i n g r e g r e s s i o n i n t ime - t o c h i l d h o o d . As i n The Waste L a n d , t ime and space are fused o r con-f u s e d . The r e l i g i o u s r i t u a l of the pas t i s p a r o d i e d by the c h i l d r e n ' s r i t u a l , "Here we go round the p r i c k l y p e a r " . And again E l i o t uses c o n t r a s t : the i m p l i c a t i o n of the " h o r r o r " of Hear t of Darkness i n the e p i g r a p h , and the v i o l e n c e of Guy Fawkes are c o n t r a s t e d w i t h the whimpering nothingness of the h o l l o w men. The h o l l o w men are not l o s t v i o l e n t s o u l s , but merely : Shape w i t h o u t f o r m , shade w i t h o u t c o l o u r , P a r a l y s e d f o r c e , ges ture w i t h o u t mot ion. They are rendered impotent by the Shadow from the deep uncon-s c i o u s of t h e i r a n c e s t r a l p a s t , the p e r s o n i f i c a t i o n of the n e g a t i o n i n t h e i r be ings of a l l the t h i n g s i n t h e i r l i v e s which they have not dared t o l i v e . These are the l i v i n g dead of the Waste L a n d , E l i o t ' s I n f e r n o , w o r l d w i t h o u t purpose or hope, whose t i m e - r i d d e n v i c t i m s l a c k the w i l l t o c o n f r o n t t i m e , and so are i n c a p a b l e of coming t o terms w i t h t h e i r p a s t , o r o f c r e a t i n g t h e i r own b e i n g s . 24 CHAPTER III THE ASH WEDNESDAY PERIOD During the five years which intervened between "The Hollow Men" and the publication of Ash Wednesday, a change of great depth took place in the consciousness of the poet and in his poetry, and Ash Wednesday i s the expression of that change. It i s the beginning of a c r i s i s of indecision, of a "time of tension between dying and birth". As this poem i s the turning point in his l i f e and poetry, so Part III of the poem, "Al som de 1'escalina",'1' at the top of the stairs, i s the turning point of the poem. It i s the beginning of his Purgatorio, and the beginning of his understanding of the significance of time. At the f i r s t turning of the second stair I turned and saw below The same shape twisted on the banister Under the vapour in the fe t i d a i r Struggling with the devil of the stairs who wears The deceitful face of hope and despair. For the f i r s t time the protagonist looks back in time and sees his "other self", his self as i t was in the past, the self which i s in conflict with his present consciousness, but which becomes part of i t . He i s aware that he must create his own being out of his "other" and i t s experience in time. 2 In Part I, "Perch 1io non spero d i tornar gia mal" the protagonist i s s t i l l i n the Waste Land of despair, 25 r e p e a t i n g over and over Because I do not hope t o t u r n a g a i n Because I do not hope Because I do not hope t o t u r n . . . . A l t h o u g h C a v a i c a n t i ' s l o v e i s f o r h i s l a d y , E l i o t no doubt t h i n k s o f h i s sensual l o v e as s y m b o l i z i n g d i v i n e l o v e , as D a n t e ' s l o v e f o r B e a t r i c e t u r n s t o d i v i n e L o v e , so t h a t the " t u r n i n g " i s both sensua l and s p i r i t u a l . But the p r o t a g o n i s t i s i n d e s p a i r because b o t h h i s sensual and h i s s p i r i t u a l f a c u l t i e s are i n c a p a c i t a t e d by t ime t e m p o r a l . Because I know t h a t t ime i s a lways t ime And p l a c e i s a lways p l a c e And what i s a c t u a l i s a c t u a l f o r on ly one t ime And o n l y f o r one p l a c e . I f t h e r e i s o n l y one t ime and one p l a c e , then there i s no p a s t , t ime i s not redeemable, and the p r o t a g o n i s t , a t t h i s s t a g e , i s l i v i n g i n phenomenal t ime w i t h o u t purpose o r hope. P a r t I I of Ash Wednesday i n t r o d u c e s the f i r s t p o s i t i v e gl impse of hope, the f i r s t sugges t ion of h i s awareness of the depth of h i s own c o n s c i o u s n e s s , when the p r o t a g o n i s t s a l u t e s the l a d y . T h i s l a d y i s not o n l y the l a d y who, by way of Dante , appears on t h r e e p l a n e s , g a t h e r i n g d i v i n i t y . On another l e v e l she i s what C a r l Jung c a l l s the " a n i m a " , the archetype o r the p r i m o r d i a l image, which i s the p e r s o n i f i c a t i o n of h i s own deep u n c o n s c i o u s ; of the e x p e r i e n c e o f not o n l y h i s own p a s t , but t h a t of h i s a n c e s t r a l memories. F . W. M a r t i n g i v e s some i n -3 s i g h t i n t o t h i s p r i m o r d i a l image. I n h i s Experiment i n Depth 26 he shows how J u n g , foynbee and E l i o t , each i n h i s own way, has used what E l i o t c a l l s the m y t h i c a l method, the e x p l o r a -t i o n of those symbols , v i s i o n s and f i x e d i d e a s w h i c h , a c t i n g p o w e r f u l l y f rom the unconscious d e p t h s , enable man t o f i n d new e n e r g i e s , new v a l u e s and new a i m s . I n A Study of H i s t o r y Toynbee uses the phrase " w i t h d r a w a l and r e t u r n " , ^ h i s hypothe-s i s be ing t h a t when c i v i l i z a t i o n comes t o a " t ime of t r o u b l e " such as we are now i n , i n d i v i d u a l s here and there t u r n f rom the o u t e r w o r l d of s o c i a l and p o l i t i c a l chaos t o the i n n e r w o r l d of the psyche. There they come upon a v i s i o n of a new way of l i f e a n d , r e t u r n i n g t o the o u t e r w o r l d , form the nucleus of a " c r e a t i v e m i n o r i t y " , through which t h a t c i v i l i z a -t i o n may f i n d r e n e w a l . M a r t i n says t h a t as Toynbee d e r i v e d h i s h y p o t h e s i s f rom h i s r e a d i n g of u n i v e r s a l h i s t o r y , and Jung was approaching the w i t h d r a w a l - a n d - r e t u r n process f rom the depths of the i n d i v i d u a l psyche , E l i o t was"making the experiment and e x p r e s s i n g i t i n the g r e a t e s t poetry of the a g e . " ^ M a r t i n e x p l a i n s t h a t behind t h e p e r s o n a l unconscious which each of us accumulates i n the course o f h i s l i f e t i m e , t h e r e i s the "deep unconsc ious" d e r i v e d f rom the unconscious of our a n c e s t o r s i n past ages> subs tan-t i a l l y s i m i l a r i n a l l p e o p l e , f rom which come - among o ther t h i n g s - the fundamental d r i v e s which we share w i t h the a n i m a l s : the i n s t i n c t f o r s e l f - p r e s e r v a t i o n , the s e x - u r g e , the w i l l - t o - p o w e r , e t c . I n human be ings these i n s t i n c t u a l d r i v e s encounter no l e s s p o w e r f u l moral and s p i r i t u a l f o r c e s . 27 Although the origin and nature of these forces i s a subject of dispute, on the essential outcome there i s substantial agreement. Man i s a creature torn between opposites, ever-lastingly caught in some insoluble problem, propelled to and fro, forward and back, by currents lying far below the surface of the consciousness. In Ash Wednesday this deep unconscious i s present in the person of the Lady, the anima or primordial image of the protagonist, who brings him hope and new energy. The Lady of silences personifies and releases the deep unconscious of the protagonist and forges a link with his ancestral past. At the same time, she shows him the possibility of light: Because of the goodness of this Lady And because of her loveliness, and because She honours the Virgin in meditation, We shine with brightness. And she plunges him into the struggle, which must take place in Time, the "tension between dying and birth", the tension between the opposites: Lady of silences Calm and distressed Torn and most whole Rose of memory Rose of forgetfulness Exhausted and life-giving Worried and reposeful Journey to no end Conclusion of a l l that Is inconclusible Speech without word and Word of no speech Grace to the Mother For the Garden Where a l l love ends. 28 But where e a r t h l y l o v e ends , d i v i n e Love b e g i n s , and the t e n s i o n between the o p p o s i t e s must cont inue i n t i m e . T h i s d i a l e c t i c , o r s t r u g g l e between two opposing f o r c e s - i n t e l l e c t u a l , moral o r s p i r i t u a l - i s b a s i c i n both E a s t e r n and Western t h o u g h t , and d i a l e c t i c and paradox have become an i n t e g r a l p a r t of contemporary thought and l i t e r a t u r e . There i s ample evidence t h a t E l i o t was deeply i n f l u e n c e d by the works of H e r a c l i t u s , the f i f t h - c e n t u r y B . C . Greek p h i l o s o p h e r , ^ both by h i s concept of t ime and by h i s d i a l e c t i c thought . I n h i s theory of t i m e , which was one of the f i r s t r e -c o r d e d , he thought of t ime as f l u x or a cont inuous s u c c e s s i o n of i n e v i t a b l e changes. I n h i s Fragment 91 he says t h a t " A man cannot step t w i c e i n the same r i v e r . " That i s , both man and r i v e r w i l l have changed, w i l l have become " o t h e r " . We can h a r d l y d i s c e r n a d i f f e r e n c e i n t h e i r concepts of t i m e , except t h a t i n H e r a c l i t u s ' f l u x , a l t h o u g h there i s " r e p o s e " , he does not mention a s t i l l p o i n t , o r transcendence o f t i m e . However, what E l i o t d e r i v e s f rom H e r a c l i t u s i s not so much h i s p h i l o s o -phy of t ime as h i s imagery and the t e n s i o n of h i s paradoxes . I n h i s Fragment 8 H e r a c l i t u s says "That which i s i n o p p o s i t i o n i s i n c o n c e r t , and from t h i n g s t h a t d i f f e r comes the b e a u t i f u l " ; and a g a i n , i n Fragment 5 1 : "Harmony c o n s i s t s of opposing t e n -s i o n , l i k e t h a t of the bow and the l y r e . " I t i s the Lady of s i l e n c e s who p r e c i p i t a t e s the p r o t a g o -n i s t i n t o the d i a l e c t i c s t r u g g l e i n t i m e . Some o l d o p p o s i t i o n s , i m p l i e d i n e a r l i e r poems, a r e now made e x p l i c i t . The s t r u g g l e 29 for wholeness which was implied in the broken images and columns of the Waste Land period becomes explicit in the opposition, "Torn and whole". The f u t i l e memory which throws up a crowd of twisted things or stir s dull roots i s revived in Ash Wednesday as the Rose of memory, capable of redeeming time, opposed to the Rose of forgetfulness. The dead tree and dry stone of the Waste Land are revived in the desert, to be opposed by the garden, "The desert in the garden and the garden in the desert", the garden which w i l l appear again and again, gathering depth and significance with each appearance. The Lady initiates the opposition between the word and the Word in her Lady-of-silence passage, "Speech without word and / Word without speech". The opposition i s picked up again in the incantation at the beginning of Part V, which, after the hesitation at the end of Part IV, thrusts the protagonist irrevocably into the intense struggle which must take place in time. If the lost word i s lost, i f the spent word i s spent If the unheard, unspoken Word i s unspoken, unheard; S t i l l i s the unspoken word, the Word unheard, The word without a word, the Word within The world and for the world; The word i s "heard*? in time, in the "twittering world" of the Waste Land. It i s the "lost" word belonging to lost experi-ence, and so i t i s lost in time unredeemed. The Word, which i s the Logos, the Word of God, the Absolute, belongs to the 30 t r a n s c e n d e n t a l w o r l d of the s t i l l p o i n t a t the i n t e r s e c t i o n of Time and the T i m e l e s s . L i k e the Lady of s i l e n c e s , i t i s e l o q u e n t , but unheard. I t i s t h e r e , "now and a l w a y s " , above and beyond T ime , " the l i g h t t h a t shone i n the d a r k n e s s " , w a i t i n g f o r the moment of t ranscendence . ' The p r o t a g o n i s t i s committed t o the s t r u g g l e between the word and the Word, and the i n t e n s i t y of h i s s t r i v i n g v i b r a t e s i n the p o e t ' s i n c a n t a t o r y verse w i t h i t s r e p e t i -t i o n s and s i n g i n g r i m e s : A g a i n s t the Word the u n s t i l l e d w o r l d s t i l l w h i r l e d About the centre of the s i l e n t w o r d . But he i s not y e t ready f o r the moment of t ranscendence . He cannot y e t redeem t i m e . The word cannot " r e s o u n d " ; " t h e r e i s not enough s i l e n c e " : The r i g h t t ime and the r i g h t p l a c e are not here No p l a c e f o r grace f o r those who a v o i d the face No t ime t o r e j o i c e f o r those who walk w i t h n o i s e and deny the v o i c e . The word " l o v e " , which w i l l e v e n t u a l l y become " L o v e " i n the f i n a l s e c t i o n of Four % i a r t e t s . i s mentioned f o r the f i r s t t ime i n the L a d y - o f - s i l e n c e passage, and i s mentioned not once , but f o u r t i m e s . T h i s i s e a r t h l y l o v e , not y e t become L o v e , o r d i v i n e L o v e . I t i s by submiss ion t o d i v i n e Love i n the moment of t ranscendence , t h a t the p r o t a g o n i s t draws past and f u t u r e i n t o the e t e r n a l Now of the s t i l l p o i n t , where they a r e t ransformed i n meaning and a c t . T h i s i s how he redeems t i m e . Love i s the q u a l i t y which g i v e s 31 the g lowing i n t e n s i t y , the f e e l i n g s and emotions whieh p e r -meate the o therwise c o l d l y i n t e l l e c t u a l and s p i r i t u a l " i l l u m i n a t i o n " of the s t i l l p o i n t a t the i n t e r s e c t i o n o f Time and the T i m e l e s s * That the Lady i s the bearer or p e r s o n i f i c a t i o n of l o v e i s c l e a r . But the k i n d of l o v e , and her r e l a t i o n t o i t i s extremely c o m p l i c a t e d . Undoubtedly i t owes much t o Dante and h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h B e a t r i c e . Whereas the r e l i g i o n of l o v e of the P r o v e n c a l amour c o u r t o i s becomes a lmost a parody of d i v i n e l o v e , D a n t e , i n e f f e c t , r everses the process and makes h i s e r o t i c l o v e f o r B e a t r i c e the ins t rument o f d i v i n e l o v e , and i n h i s P a r a d i s o . she becomes h i s guide t o s p i r i t u a l l o v e . S o , i n Ash Wednesday E l i o t 1 s Lady appears f i r s t as an a c t u a l woman, changing g r a d u a l l y t o Mary , the ins t rument of d i v i n e l o v e . I n a study of E l i o t ' s poe t ry Genesius Jones p o i n t s out t h a t E l i o t employs three a s p e c t s o f l o v e , f o r which Jones uses 7 the Greek names of E r o s , Agape and C h a r i s . Eros i s the aspect of l o v e i n which the f e e l i n g s have an e r o t i c base , a l t h o u g h they i n c l u d e emotions o ther than p u r e l y s e n s u a l ones. Agape i n c l u d e s the f e e l i n g s of l o v e which have t h e i r base i n a sense of communal o r b r o t h e r l y s h a r i n g , symbol ized by the E u c h a r i s t , o r f o o d - s h a r i n g r i t u a l , but not separate f rom the o ther a s p e c t s of l o v e , so t h a t Agape i s , as i t were , the p o i n t of i n t e r s e c -t i o n between Time and the T i m e l e s s . C h a r i s i s d i v i n e l o v e , and i s , of c o u r s e , m y s t i c a l and t ranscendent . I t i s symbol ized 32 i n E l i o t 1 s poetry by l i g h t and sound i n the a i r , by l i g h t through water, and by restoring water. E l i o t puts the matter c l e a r l y i n his paraphrase of Dante's Paradiso. XXXIII, 96: Our gaze i s submarine, pur eyes look upward And see the l i g h t that fractures through unquiet water We see the l i g h t , but see not whence i t comes.8 In the Waste Land period we f i n d perversions of a l l these loves, as the s t e r i l e love a f f a i r of the t y p i s t , the "taking of toast and tea", and the t w i l i g h t of the Thames-Acheron. The Lady of Ash Wednesday, appearing f i r s t as an actual woman, l i k e Beatrice, gives a glimpse of the l i g h t and then withdraws. But her appearance has given the protagonist a v i s i o n of his own unconscious, of his ancestral past, and a hint of his inheritance. Ih Part IV, a f t e r the v i t a l "turning" on the second s t a i r , a f t e r the duration of "the years that walk between", bearing Away the f i d d l e s and the f l u t e s , restoring One who moves i n the time between sleep and waking the Lady, no longer an actual woman, nor yet quite d i v i n e , reappears, wearing "White l i g h t folded, sheathed about her folded". Here, indeed i s the promise of salvation, and the command to redeem time follows: The new years walk, restoring Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem The time. Redeem The unread v i s i o n i n the higher dream 33 E l i o t may have found his phrase "redeeming time" i n the Scriptures, to which he often goes fo r ideas and images. We f i n d t h i s passage i n Ephesians, V:15-17: See that ye walk circumspectly, not as f o o l s , but as wise, Redeeming the time, because the days are e v i l . Wherefore be ye not unwise, but understanding what the w i l l of _the Lord i s . Both redeeming time and understanding are essentials of E l i o t ' s solution of the problem of time. The protagonist has "had the experience but missed the meaning". Now he must begin to redeem time, the "unread v i s i o n " of his past. In Part VI he i s "wavering between p r o f i t and l o s s " , between time wasted and time redeemed: This i s the time of tension between dying and b i r t h The place of solitude where three dreams cross. The three dreams could be the three aspects of time i n which man creates his being: his present being, h i s "other" or past being, and the future being f o r which he i s preparing. They could also be the three aspects of love: sensual, communal and divine, the three aspects now united i n the Lady, "Blessed s i s t e r , holy mother, s p i r i t of the fountain, s p i r i t of the garden". She i s the p e r s o n i f i c a t i o n of h i s deep unconscious, where he creates his being; she i s his l i g h t , the source of his i l l u m i n a t i o n , his understanding of his past, and his promise of salvation. He begs her not to desert him i n his d i f f i c u l t struggle to redeem time: "Suffer me not to be 34 separated". The protagonist has looked back on his past being: he has looked forward to glimpse the mystical s t i l l point. He has committed himself to t e l e o l o g i c a l time, to struggling toward the l i g h t . This i s his Purgatorio. But his s p i r i t i s s t i l l weak, and so, f a l l i n g i n t o the way of the weak, he ends with the r i t u a l response: "And l e t my cry come unto thee". The image f o r passing time which E l i o t uses at t h i s c r u c i a l point of his changing consciousness i s the s t a i r . "At the f i r s t turning of the second s t a i r " the protagonist looks back i n time to see his "other" s e l f . The ascent of the s t a i r s i s his mode of r e a l i z i n g the "higher dream". This "turning" on the s t a i r s i s also the turning point i n his quest f o r the s t i l l point of the turning world. I t i s his f i r s t step toward the Absolute, the f i r s t time that movement on the s t a i r s has symbolized movement forward i n time toward consciousness. In h i s early poems E l i o t used the s t a i r s as a path of retreat from r e a l i t y , as i n "Port r a i t of a Lady". Mounting the s t a i r s to take his leave of the older "lady" on the October night, the young protagonist " f e e l s a s l i g h t sensa-t i o n of being i l l at ease" at having dared so l i t t l e . I mount the s t a i r s and turn the handle of the door And f e e l as i f I had mounted on my hands and knees. Prufrock uses the s t a i r s as a delaying t a c t i c so that there w i l l be time "To wonder, 'Do I dare? 1 / Time to turn back 35 and descend t h e s t a i r " . I n The Waste Land t h e f o o t s t e p s t h a t " s h u f f l e d on t h e s t a i r " l e d t o a woman t o o n e u r o t i c f o r a v i t a l s e x u a l e x p e r i e n c e ; a n d , a f t e r h i s s t e r i l e e n c o u n t e r w i t h t h e t y p i s t , h e r l o v e r "gropes h i s way, f i n d i n g t h e s t a i r s u n l i t " . The " l a d i e s " o f t h e s e poems l a c k t h e promise o f " l i g h t " g i v e n by t h e Lady o f A s h Wednesday; t h e y l a c k t h e e n e r g i z i n g f o r c e o f t h e deep u n c o n s c i o u s which she p e r s o n i f i e s , and w h i c h l i n k s t h e p r o t a g o n i s t w i t h h i s a n c e s t r a l p a s t . And so t h e movement on t h e s t a i r s l e a d s nowhere. A l t h o u g h t h e s t a i r s i n t h e s e poems a r e a c t u a l s t a i r s , t h e y a c cumulate t h e s y m b o l i c c o n n o t a t i o n o f f a i l u r e , o f t h e f u t i l i t y o f t h e v i c t i m s o f t i m e t e m p o r a l . I n t h e I n f e r n o o f t h e Waste Land t h e y become symbols o f no movement o r o f r e g r e s s i o n i n t i m e . Not u n t i l A s h Wednesday does t h e movement on t h e s t a i r s become m e a n i n g f u l and p u r p o s e f u l i n t e l e o l o g i c a l Time. Here t h e s t a i r s s y m b o l i z e t h e p r o g r e s s f rom t h e complete p a s s i v i t y o f t h e h o l l o w men t o t h e " t u r n i n g " toward a v i s i o n o f red e m p t i o n . These a r e t h e s t a i r s o f P u r g a t o r i o ; t h e i r a s c e n t i s t h e mode o f r e a l i z i n g h i g h e r l o v e and u n d e r s t a n d i n g . The image i s c o n s i s t e n t w i t h t h e s t a i r s of Dante's P u r g a t o r i o . The "second s t a i r " c o u l d be t h e second o f t h e t h r e e s t e p s w h i c h Dante and V i r g i l ascended t o t h e gate o f P u r g a t o r i o , t h e b l a c k - p u r p l e s t e p o f rugged s t o n e , which s t o o d f o r s i n , and w h i c h l e d t o t h e t h i r d s t e p o f p o r p h y r y , t h e s t e p g o f atonement. I t i s c o n s i s t e n t a l s o w i t h t h e t e n s t e p s o f th e s i x t e e n t h - c e n t u r y S p a n i s h m y s t i c , San Ju a n de l a C r u z , 36 in his "dark night of the soul".1*** In describing the nature of the dark night, or rather two dark nights, the one sensual and the other s p i r i t u a l , during which the soul passes through privation and purgation to reach the high state of perfection which i s union with the Divine Essence, San Juan likens the ascent to the ladder of St. Bernard. He c a l l s i t the ladder of Love and describes each of the steps by which the soul ascends. In Ash Wednesday the ascent has only begun. The "strength beyond hope and despair / Climbing the t h i r d s t a i r " suggests San Juan's t h i r d step which "causes the soul to struggle, and gives i t fervour so that i t f a i l s n o t " . ^ The protagonist knows that he i s s t i l l unworthy, "can speak the word only". He i s s t i l l i n Purgatorio, i n the time between dying and b i r t h . A f t e r the f i r s t i n s i g h t into his past and i t s promise of redemption i n Ash Wednesday, comes the quiet r e f l e c t i o n , the action and reaction of the A r i e l Poems. Composed at about the same time as Ash Wednesday, they express the same struggle, i n a lower key, and in e v i t a b l y they use some of the same images. As Elizabeth Drew says, A l l four of the poems embody d i f f e r e n t aspects of the experi-ence of r e b i r t h , of the discovery of a new focus of existence. They are a l l visionary impersonal dramatizations of states of f e e l i n g within the 'dream-crossed t w i l i g h t between b i r t h and dying', the 'time of tension between dying and birth'.12 The A r i e l Poems begin with the halting rhythms of "Journey of the Magi": 37 A l l t h i s was a long time ago, I remember, And I would do i t again, but set down This set down This: were we led a l l that way f o r B i r t h or death? The protagonist, immersed i n time, now t e l e o l o g i c a l , i s suffering " b i t t e r agony" t r y i n g to unravel the puzzle of b i r t h and death. The B i r t h of Jesus marks the death of the "old dispensations"; his Death marks the b i r t h of new l i f e . In A Song f o r Simeon we f i n d "Light upon l i g h t , mounting the saints' s t a i r " . The s t a i r i s the symbol of Simeon's awareness of Salvation through Jesus, the "Infant, the s t i l l unspeaking and unspoken Word". Although Simeon dies before the C r u c i f i x i o n , he utters h i s nunc d i m i t t i s : Let thy servant depart [in peace] Having seen thy salvation. In "Animula" the " l i t t l e soul" struggles under the "heavy burden of the growing soul", but, although he i s f o r the moment Irresolute and s e l f i s h , misshapen, lame Unable to fare forward or re t r e a t , Fearing the warm r e a l i t y , the offered good, he i s aware of the "offered good", he knows that he must "fare forward", and he ends with a prayer "for us now at the hour of our b i r t h " - not at the hour of our death, but of our b i r t h . The offered good, which appeared f i r s t i n the anima of Ash Wednesday, reappears i n a new form i n the person of Marina. 38 The Lady of Ash Wednesday, whether human or d i v i n e , i s always d i s t a n t , above and beyond, shining but nevertheless, remote* But Marina, the miraculously recovered young daughter of the protagonist, i s tender and intimate, body of his body, soul of his soul. Death becomes "unsubstantial", i t i s reduced by a wind A breath of pine, and the woodsong fog By t h i s grace dissolved i n place. Marina, the pe r s o n i f i c a t i o n of t h i s "grace", dissolves the l i v e s devoid of meaning, "meaning death". She i s "This form, t h i s face, t h i s l i f e / Living to l i v e i n a world of time beyond me". Marina,gives him a glimpse of E t e r n i t y . She i s a sudden promise of v i t a l l i f e , a moment of hope, and the f i r s t moment of exquisite joy. In "Marina" E l i o t introduces an image f o r t h i s joy i n "Whispers of small laughter between leaves and hurrying feet"; and he picks i t up again i n "New Hampshire": Children's voices i n the orchard Between the blossom- and the f r u i t - t i m e . It i s an image of great beauty and promise, one of the poet's "hints and guesses" at the r e a l i z a t i o n of the " l o s t experi-ence" i n time, and the apprehension of higher r e a l i t y which w i l l be achieved i n Four ^Quartets. 39 The p e r s p e c t i v e of t ime through h i s t o r y , which began i n the Waste Land p e r i o d , c o n t i n u e s throughout the P u r g a t o r i o p e r i o d . " Journey of the Magi" i s a p i e c e of h i s t o r y . I n s p i t e of i t s tone of understatement , i t i s the r e p o r t of an impor tant event i n h i s t o r y - the I n c a r n a t i o n - which gave a hew r e l i g i o n t o the West as w e l l as a base f o r our measurement of t i m e . I n the " C o r i o l a n " poems E l i o t uses the p e r s p e c t i v e of h i s t o r y t o express the t e n s i o n s between the deep unconscious or pas t of the i n d i v i d u a l and the demands of h i s contemporary s o c i e t y . A s G o r i o l a n u s endured the c o n f l i c t i n a n c i e n t Rome, so A r t h u r Edward G y r i l P a r k e r must endure i t i n t w e n t i e t h -c e n t u r y E n g l a n d . And a l t h o u g h C o r i o l a n u s , o r the " n a t u r a l w a k e f u l l i f e " o f h i s Ego , p e r c e i v e s h i s s o c i e t y i n terms of h o r s e s ' h e e l s , e a g l e s , t e m p l e s , and v i r g i n s b e a r i n g u r n s , and G y r i l p e r c e i v e s h i s i n terms of p r o j e c t i l e s , mines and f u s e s , P u b l i c Works and Committees, b o t h a r e seeking f o r something beyond. They a r e s t r i v i n g f o r t h a t something which l i e s deep i n the u n c o n s c i o u s , which r e p r e s e n t s t h e i r pas t and g i v e s meaning t o t h e i r b e i n g , and which i s p e r s o n i f i e d i n the a r c h e -t y p a l f i g u r e of the h e r o . "Here they come. I s he coming?" And he comes; but what he r e p r e s e n t s , what they are s e e k i n g , t h e deep u n c o n s c i o u s , i s s t i l l " h i d d e n " . O h idden under the d o v e ' s w i n g , h idden i n the t u r t l e ' s b r e a s t , Under the palmtree a t noon, under the r u n n i n g water A t the s t i l l p o i n t of the t u r n i n g w o r l d . O h i d d e n . 40 This i s the f i r s t time that E l i o t has used the term " s t i l l point of the turning world" i n h i s poetry, and here i t unites the consciousness of two h i s t o r i c a l eras. In spite of the h i s t o r i c a l and semantic gap between the two young men, the Roman p a t r i c i a n and the contemporary plebeian are united by the same c o n f l i c t between inner and outer necessity. As Garl Jung has said: Consciousness and the unconscious do not make a whole when either i s suppressed or damaged by the other . . . . Both are aspects of l i f e . Let consciousness defend i t s reason and i t s s e l f - p r o t e c t i v e ways, and l e t the chaotic l i f e of the unconscious be given a f a i r chance to have i t s own way, as much of i t as we can stand. This means at once open c o n f l i c t and open collaboration. Yet paradoxically t h i s i s presumably what human l i f e should be, the unbreakable whole, the individual.13 Norman O. Brown, whose concepts are based on the psychology of Freud rather than that of Jung, and who locates our unconscious i n "dream time", says that "The cave of dreams and the cave of the dead are the same. Ghosts are dreams and dreams are ghosts: shades, umbrae. Sleep i s regressive; i n dreaming we return to dream time - the age of heroes and ancestors."•*"4 So the juxta-p o s i t i o n of Coriolanus and C y r i l may have deeper connotations than those imposed by contrast only. Perhaps Coriolanus i s , or at least represents, the deep unconscious of C y r i l . The way of history continues throughout The Rock. In f a c t , i n the seventh chorus E l i o t summarizes the history of the world from i t s creation to the godlessness of the present day. 41 In the beginning God created the world. Waste and void. Waste and void. And darkness was upon the face of the deep. Men worshipped snakes or trees or d e v i l s rather than nothing, "crying f o r l i f e beyond l i f e , f o r ecstasy not of the f l e s h " , 4 u n t i l , at the predetermined moment, A moment not out of time, but i n time, i n what we c a l l h i s t o r y : transecting, bisecting the world of time, a moment i n time but not l i k e a moment of time, gave the "meaning" so that men must proceed " i n the l i g h t of the word". But then something happened which had never happened before: Men have l e f t God not f o r other gods, they say, but f o r no god; and t h i s has never happened before, and we l i v e i n an age which "advances progressively backwards". For E l i o t the way of hist o r y i s moving i n the phenomenal world i n time temporal, and redeeming time by c o n c i l i a t i o n through understanding the pattern of history. For "most of us" t h i s i s the way, and "we are only undefeated because we have gone on tr y i n g " to understand our past and the past of our c u l -ture, or hi s t o r y . But f o r E l i o t there i s another way - the way of the saint. For the sa i n t , who i s always i n touch with E t e r n i t y , there i s the way of transcendence, the noumenal way, leading d i r e c t l y to the Et e r n a l , "Light upon l i g h t , mounting the saints' s t a i r " . 42 In Murder i n the Cathedral. Thomas a Kempis i s a figure i n h i s t o r y and the events recorded are part of history, but i n the end Thomas' way becomes the way of the saint. He chooses to "Fare forward to the end", to seek "the way of martyrdom", i n "the action which i s suffering" and "suffering action". In t h i s play E l i o t emphasizes the action and suffering i n time which i s necessary to achieve the consciousness of the s t i l l point, and he continues to develop images f o r these moments of consciousness. He picks up the s t a i r image again i n a speech of the fourth Tempter, who alone knows that what Thomas desires i s the death of a martyr and "glory a f t e r death". Your thoughts have more power than kings to compel you. You have also thought sometimes i n your prayers, Sometimes hesitating at the angles of the s t a i r s The hesitating at the angles of the s t a i r s i s a moment of consciousness f o r Thomas. As the p r i e s t s are waiting f o r Thomas to appear, the t h i r d p r i e s t says: For good or i l l , l e t the wheel turn. The wheel has been s t i l l , these seven years, and no good. For i l l or good l e t the wheel turn. The action and suffering of Thomas are i n the turning of the wheel, or the turning of the world, i n time. His s a c r i f i c e , i n which he becomes one with Jesus, the Word, i s h i s s t i l l point of the turning world. 43 In h i s f i r s t speech, defending the "immodest and babbling women", Thomas says: They speak better than they know and beyond your understanding. They know and do not know, what i t i s to su f f e r . They know and do not know, that action i s suffering And suffering i s action. Neither does the agent suffer Nor the patient a c t . But both are fixed In eternal a c t i o n , an eternal patience To which a l l must consent that i t may be w i l l e d And that a l l must suffe r that they may w i l l i t , That the pattern may subsist, f o r the pattern i s the action And the suffering, that the wheel may turn and s t i l l Be forever s t i l l . 1 5 This s i g n i f i c a n t passage not only emphasizes the idea that one must suffer i n time i n the turning world i n order to achieve the c o n c i l i a t i o n of the s t i l l point, but the i n t e n s i t y of the d i a l e c t i c struggle i s increased by the double meanings of the words: "suffer", "patience" and " s t i l l " , and by the paradoxical "They know and they do not know". However, the operative word i n the passage i s "pattern". I t i s i n the pattern of timeless moments that the c o n c i l i a t i o n of the s t i l l point i s achieved, and i t i s i n the pattern which the poet makes of his words, that he w i l l achieve the f i n a l c o n c i l i a t i o n i n Four>%>artets. The pattern suggests also the necessity f o r i t s comple-t i o n , f o r wholeness. Throughout h i s l i f e and work E l i o t i s s t r i v i n g f o r the wholeness of the i n d i v i d u a l personality. The need i s implied i n the "broken" images of the Waste Land period. The need i s not only f o r s p i r i t u a l wholeness, but f o r a completely integrated personality, which includes (since man must l i v e i n time as f l e s h and blood), his r e l a t i o n to the 4 4 phenomenal world, and his sensual perception. That E l i o t himself possessed unusually acute perception i s evident from the images of his e a r l i e s t poems, from the "yellow fog that rubs i t s back upon the window-panes" and " f a i n t stale smell of beer" to the "shaft of sunlight, wild thyme unseen, or winter l i g h t n i n g " of Four Quartets. The difference i s that the f i r s t images are only sensual, whereas the l a t e r ones become s p i r i t u a l as w e l l . In his struggle i n time E l i o t , l i k e the metaphysical poets whom he admired, has managed to reconcile the sensual with the s p i r i t u a l . The idea of a whole and integrated personality achieved by the c o n c i l i a t i o n of opposing forces i s not a new one. Not only was i t basic i n the philosophy of Heraclitus and other Western thinkers, but i t was inherent i n the early philosophy and r e l i g i o n of the Orient. I t has been expressed i n a dream image which came from China by way of India and Persia to the Western world, and which C a r l Jung c a l l s a mandala. the 16 Sanskrit word f o r a magic c i r c l e . I t has turned up i n every c u l t u r a l region, often as a sun image, usually as a symbol f o r a psychic experience. Plato uses the wheel or c i r c l e as the symbol fo r time and motion (the moving image of eternity) and the s t i l l centre as the symbol f o r God, the Unmoved Mover. To the image of the s t i l l point of the turning wheel, Plotinus attached the pattern of divine ecstasy as the escape from the temporal to the Time-l e s s , which i s s i m i l a r to the pattern used by E l i o t i n Four  Quartets. 45 Another source of the wheel symbol i s the Bhaqavad-G i t a , which emerged from the t r a d i t i o n s and r e l i g i o u s l i f e of ancient India, and which influenced E l i o t very deeply. The f i r s t of the four fundamental doctrines of the Gita i s that the phenomenal world of matter and of i n d i v i d u a l i z e d consciousness - the world of things and animals and men and even gods - i s the manifestation of a divine ground within which a l l p a r t i a l r e a l i t i e s have t h e i r being, and apart from which they would be non-existent.^ The symbol of the wheel i s used to i l l u s t r a t e the dualism of t h e i r philosophical system. The movement of the circumference of the wheel, Samsara, i s Kala or Time i n the material or sensuous world; the s t i l l centre, Brahman, author of the Universe, the Unmoved Mover, i s the Timeless, the s p i r i t u a l , the Absolute. In t h e i r treatment of both time and the wholeness of person-a l i t y , Krishna (speaking i n the Gita) and E l i o t use a s i m i l a r pattern, a t e l e o l o g i c a l pattern. Both Krishna and E l i o t f e e l that man i s impelled by the energizing force of his enteleehy towards the apprehension of Oneness i n the Absolute, symbolized by the s t i l l centre of the turning world. The design of the mandala dream image combines the element of c i r c u l a r rotation (movement i n time), some element of fourness or quaternity, and the all-important centre, often within the design of a rose or l o t u s . The c i r c l e suggests the wholeness of being, and the centre, the 46 point at which the resolution of opposites occurs, makes the wholeness possible. However, as we know, E l i o t does not l i m i t his a l l u s i o n s to one source or even two, but p i l e s image upon image, adding the richness of each, to create i n an instant of time, a per-ception which i s loaded with as much wealth as the reader, depending on his own wealth of reading and of experience, i s capable of grasping. Some of E l i o t ' s images are derived from his own personal experience, and i n his search f o r the r e a l among temporal u n r e a l i t i e s , he seems to be reaching f o r a "condition of complete s i m p l i c i t y " . Like the poetry of Blake, E l i o t ' s poems pass through a stage of experience i n time and reach toward a ''higher innocence". During t h i s period E l i o t had v i s i t e d ( a f t e r an absence of twenty years), the scenes of his childhood i n the United States, and many of the joyous images which he uses i n the Landscape poems and l a t e r i n Four Quartets to symbolize moments of consciousness, images of children's voices, hidden laughter, apple-trees and b i r d s , seem to be derived from childhood memories. The poems of the Ash Wednesday period were written during the t h i r t i e s , when most of the philosophers and poets of the Western world were looking f o r solutions to the chaos of t h e i r Waste Land on the s o c i a l and p o l i t i c a l plane i n the phenomenal world of time. E l i o t was searching on a d i f f e r e n t plane, the plane of the Eternal and the Absolute> f o r his solution. 47 His protagonist has been given a glimpse of l i g h t , a promise of something beyond, and a v i s i o n of his own unconscious to give him new energies to pursue his quest. He has been given a purpose f o r h i s movement i n time, and plunged into the d i a l e c t i c struggle i n time with the command to "fare forward" and to "redeem time". This i s h i s Purgatorio. He i s s t i l l struggling i n a time of tension "between dying and b i r t h " , "wavering between p r o f i t and l o s s " . 48 CHAPTER IV THE FOUR QUARTETS PERIOD Burnt Norton, the f i r s t of E l i o t ' s Four Quartets, i s the beginning of what may be c a l l e d his Paradiso period. However, Four Quartets i s not a description of h i s Paradiso, but a working out of the pattern, the c o n c i l i a t i o n of a l l the oppositions which must occur i f the Absolute of Eternity i s to be achieved. Burnt Norton i s an announcement of the poet's s p i r i t u a l quest. He introduces or r e i t e r a t e s the themes and images which w i l l appear i n the subsequent Quartets. and which w i l l complete the design of his search i n time f o r E t e r n i t y . E l i o t ' s philosophy of time resembles i n many ways that of the French philosopher, Henri Bergson, but E l i o t ' s debt to Bergson i s tenuous and complicated. Although he attended some Bergson lectures i n Paris i n 1911, he denies the i n f l u -ence of Bergson on h i s own thinking, and c r i t i c i z e s the concept of "creative e v o l u t i o n " . 1 Yet E l i o t ' s debt to Bergson, both d i r e c t l y and through T. E. Hulme, cannot be denied. Consider, f o r example, Bergson's d e f i n i t i o n of "duration": Duration i s not merely one instant replacing another; i f i t were, there would never be anything but the present - no prolonging of the past into the a c t u a l , no evolution, no concrete duration. Duration i s the continuous progress of the past which gnaws into the future and which swells as i t advances.2 49 This concept appears again and again both i n E l i o t ' s prose and i n his poetry. In h i s essay "Tradition and the Individual Talent", which was f i r s t published i n The Egoist i n 1919, he wrote that "the conscious present i s an awareness of the past i n a way and to an extent which the past's awareness of i t -s e l f cannot show", and he i n s i s t e d that the poet must develop the consciousness of the past and continue to develop t h i s consciousness by "a continual surrender of himself as he i s at the moment to something which i s more valuable". This sounds remarkably l i k e Bergson's creative evolution. And the f i r s t three l i n e s of Burnt Norton sound remarkably l i k e Bergson's duration: Time present and time past Are both present i n time future, And time future contained i n time past. In the opening passages of Burnt Norton E l i o t presents three aspects of time. The time present, past and future of the f i r s t three l i n e s represent duration i n the natural world, the time without purpose of the people of the Waste Land, or t e l e o l o g i c a l time. The second aspect, time e t e r n a l l y present, i s E t e r n i t y , and the t h i r d , what might have been, only a p o s s i b i l i t y . But the f i r s t and t h i r d meet i n the second, which i s the only a c t u a l i t y : What might have been and what has been Point to one end, which i s always present. 50 Morris Weitz interprets t h i s passage as saying that what might have been i s no d i f f e r e n t from the temporal, and that past, present, future and p o s s i b i l i t y a l l point to one end which i s the Eternal or the Timeless. He says that "This notion of the Eternal or ultimate r e a l i t y being immanent i n the fl u x as the Logos which anyone can discern, but which only a few do discern, c l a r i f i e s most of Burnt Norton."^ For these few, who are l i v i n g i n time t e l e o l o g i c a l l y , To be conscious i s not to be i n time But only i n time can the moment i n the rose-garden The moment i n the arbour where the r a i n beat, The moment i n the draughty church at smokefall Be remembered; involved with past and future. Only through time i s time conquered. But time past and time future "Allow but l i t t l e consciousness", and the people of the Waste Land, merely passing time i n a "place of d i s a f f e c t i o n " , do not experience even t h i s " l i t t l e consciousness". They l i v e i n a "dim l i g h t : neither daylight . . . suggesting permanence . . . Nor darkness to purify the soul", a dim l i g h t which i s Only a f l i c k e r Over strained time-ridden faces Distracted from d i s t r a c t i o n by d i s t r a c t i o n And the poet ends Burnt Norton on a pessimistic note: Ridiculous the sad waste time Stretching before and a f t e r . A f t e r generalizing about time i n the opening passages of the poem, E l i o t revives the theme of memory from his 51 e a r l y poems. F o o t f a l l s e c h o i n t h e memory Down t h e p a s s a g e w h i c h we d i d n o t t a k e T o w a r d s t h e d o o r we n e v e r o p e n e d I n t o t h e r o s e - g a r d e n . He i s a p p r o a c h i n g memory, h i s p r e s e n t i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f h i s p a s t , q u e s t i o n i n g l y , " t o what p u r p o s e . . . I do n o t know". I n t h e w o r l d o f t h e W a s t e L a n d , memory i s c o n f u s i n g a n d f r u i t l e s s . M e n t i o n e d f i r s t i n " R h a p s o d y on a W i n d y N i g h t " , memory i s c o n t r o l l e d b y m e c h a n i c a l t i m e , m e a s u r e d by s t r e e t l a m p s . T w e l v e o ' c l o c k A l o n g t h e r e a c h e s o f t h e s t r e e t H e l d i n a l u n a r s y n t h e s i s W h i s p e r i n g l u n a r i n c a n t a t i o n s D i s s o l v e t h e f l o o r s o f memory A n d a l l i t s c l e a r r e l a t i o n s . B o u n d b y h i s a l i e n e n v i r o n m e n t , h e r e r e p r e s e n t e d b y a most u n f r i e n d l y moon, t h e p r o t a g o n i s t c a n n o t g r a s p h i s r e l a t i o n -s h i p w i t h h i s p a s t , o r o t h e r . H i s memory i s d i s s o l v e d . M i d n i g h t s h a k e s t h e memory A s a madman s h a k e s a d e a d g e r a n i u m . H i s m emories a n d h i s p a s t a r e u s e l e s s ; he h a s h a d t h e e x p e r i -e n c e b u t m i s s e d t h e m e a n i n g . H i s memories a r e l i k e a p a i n t i n g o f M a r c C h a g a l l , a mass o f u n r e l a t e d i m a g e s . He c a n n o t d i s -c o v e r t h e r e a l among t h e t e m p o r a l u n r e a l i t i e s . I n The Waste  L a n d t h e p r o t a g o n i s t s p o k e o f "memory a n d d e s i r e " a s a s o r t o f v a g u e n o s t a l g i a f o r s o m e t h i n g he c o u l d n o t g r a s p . I n t h e 52 Purgatorial world of Ash Wednesday he f i r s t discovers that he can recapture his past at "the f i r s t turning of the second s t a i r " . In Burnt Norton he poses the question of memory and how to discover the meaning of his past. Although the protago-n i s t does not take the passage towards the door he never opened, he knows that the rose-garden i s there. Although he does not know to what purpose he should "disturb the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves", he wants to t r y . Other echoes Inhabit the garden. S h a l l We follow? Quick, said the b i r d , f i n d them Round the corner. Through the f i r s t gate, Into our f i r s t world, s h a l l we follow The deception of the thrush? I t i s natural that f o r innocent and v i t a l memories the poet should go to the " f i r s t world" of his childhood memories, such as the "Children's voices i n the orchard". The hints and guesses of t h i s Purgatorial phase w i l l become the r e a l i t i e s of the Paradisal phase. The s t i l l r i v e r of " V i r g i n i a " w i l l become the r i v e r of Dry Salvages. A l l the birds of "Cape Ann" are united i n the thrush of Burnt Norton and the urgency of the "quick" i s s t i l l there. The "deception" of the thrush i s that these quick looks into our f i r s t world are only hints and guesses - as yet. Although f o o t f a l l s echo i n the memory, and memory i s activated i n time, i t does not yet open the door into the rose-garden. This memory i s i m p l i c i t i n the temporal f l u x , 53 but does not transcend time. E l i o t makes a cl e a r d i s t i n c t i o n between ordinary memory and consciousness. Consciousness occurs only when memory i s conceived with understanding, when i t f i t s into the t o t a l design of the entelechy. E l i o t ' s concept of memory resembles that of Bergson. Memory becomes a storehouse of experiences, of r i c h a l t e r n a -t i v e s which present themselves f o r each new situation which a r i s e s , so that the variety of responses to the new sit u a t i o n depends upon the individual's wealth of memories and upon his conscious choice from his storehouse of memories. His choice i s a voluntary act, and the co r r e l a t i o n of his voluntary choice of memory with the present s i t u a t i o n creates his present state of consciousness. For Marcel Proust, the great novelist of time, t h i s choice i s not possible. Proust believes that " I t i s a labour i n vain to attempt to recapture our own past. The past i s hidden somewhere outside the realm, beyond the reach of, the i n t e l l e c t , i n some material object ( i n the sensa-t i o n which that material object w i l l give us) which we do not suspect. And as f o r that object, i t depends on chance whether we come upon i t or not before we ourselves must die." Proust's c l a s s i c example i s the pet i t e madeleine soaked i n a spoonful of tea, which i n v o l u n t a r i l y starts a whole t r a i n of memories. E l i o t , l i k e Bergson, believes that the choice of memory i s voluntary. In f a c t i t i s an act of w i l l power, necessary to understanding and salvation: to restore the "fading l i g h t " of 54 h i s memories and transfigure them, by new understanding, to the "heart of l i g h t " . However, the memory thus activated i s not permanent, but only a moment of i n s i g h t , a glimpse into the s t i l l point. Memory i s the vehicle of duration, the recapture of experience, not as i t was i n the moment of perception, but as i t has been rel a t e d to the present state of consciousness. Should the same experience be activated i n the future, the memory w i l l include the modification of further experience, so that "each venture i s a new beginning". However, i f memory i s to be f r u i t f u l , i t must f i t into the pattern of the entelechy or end, i n E l i o t ' s case the c o n c i l i a t i o n of the s t i l l point. In Burnt Norton, E l i o t introduces the four elements of Heraclitus: a i r , earth, water and f i r e , the elements of the phenomenal world i n which time must unfold. The b i r d c a l l s through the "vibrant a i r " ; the pool i s made of "dry concrete", or earth; i t i s f i l l e d with "water out of sunlight", or f i r e . In Burnt Norton the emphasis i s on a i r : the vibrant a i r of the garden, the emptiness of the pool, the cold wind that blows before and a f t e r , the faded a i r of London, the draughty church. The a i r corresponds to the processes of thought, abstractions f o r the v i t a l i t y of the rose-garden or the s t e r i l i t y of the London Waste Land. The poet places man i n the organic world to which he i s b i o l o g i c a l l y chained i n time, i n the "enchain-ment of past and future / Woven i n the weakness of the changing body% and i n which he must work out his salvation. E l i o t repeats the idea from Murder i n the Cathedral that "Human kind cannot bear very much r e a l i t y " , o r i g i n a l l y derived 55 from the words of Prince Arjuna, overcome by the glory of Krishna i n the incarnation of the Brahman. To E l i o t , as to Arjuna, the union with the "Atman", or the divin e , constitutes the only r e a l i t y or consciousness. When he says that time past and time future allow but l i t t l e consciousness, and that to be conscious i s not to be i n time, he i s saying that con-sciousness and. r e a l i t y are moments of insight i n t o E t e r n i t y . He presents " l o s t time" i n a "place of d i s a f f e c t i o n " , reminiscent of the Waste Land, i n a descent in t o the darkness of the London Underground with i t s Men and b i t s of paper, whirled by the cold wind That blows before and a f t e r time, Wind i n and out of unwholesome lungs Time before and a f t e r . The darkness of the Underground i s not the dark night of San Juan which p u r i f i e s the soul, but only a f l i c k e r over the strained, time-ridden faces i n time l o s t . He presents the poet's struggle with words, which move, "only i n time", and which s t r a i n , crack and sometimes break, under the burden. The poet knows that only by the pattern which they form i n time Can words or music reach The s t i l l n e s s , as a Chinese j a r s t i l l Moves perpetually i n i t s s t i l l n e s s . With t h i s possible echo of Wallace Stevens' " j a r i n Tennessee", E l i o t i s saying that only a r t can impose a pattern on words and conquer time. And, since words and music move i n time, 56 "The d e t a i l of the pattern i s movement". To become the Word, words must move i n a pattern of time. He speaks of love as unmoving, the "unmoved mover" of A r i s t o t l e , and of Brahman, "Author of t h i s world, unmoved and moving". This i s the love, f i r s t presented by the Lady of Ash Wednesday, which w i l l become the divine love of L i t t l e  Gidding. In Burnt Norton E l i o t revives and enriches such images as the rose-garden, water out of sunlight, and the s t i l l point of the turning world, and creates some new ones, l i k e " g a r l i c and sapphires i n the mud" and the "Kingfisher's wing". He presents the materials out of which his Paradiso w i l l be created. They are s t i l l uncreated, they must endure the struggle i n time before they can be integrated, but the poet i s aware of t h e i r existence and of t h e i r promise. * n The Family Reunion, published i n 1939, a f t e r the publication of Burnt Norton and just before East Coker, E l i o t develops some of his ideas about time. Again we f i n d Bergson's concept of duration i n the words of the Chorus: And what i s spoken remains i n the room, waiting f o r the future to hear i t . And whatever happens began i n the past, and presses hard on the future. More s t r i k i n g i s E l i o t ' s adaption i n the play of Bergson's (and Hulme's) concept of three kinds of time re l a t e d to three l e v e l s of awareness.^ Hulme describes these as time belonging 5 7 to 1} the inorganic world of mathematics and physical science, which may be c a l l e d mechanical time, 2) the organic world of biology and psychology, and 3) the world of e t h i c a l and r e l i g i o u s values. Hulme suggests that i f we place these three regions i n a f l a t c i r c u l a r plane with (3) at the Centre point (the centre of the mandala or the s t i l l p o i n t ) , then the centre and the outer region (1), have an absolute character while the intermediate region (2), the equivalent of Bergson's eUan v i t a l or E l i o t ' s t e l e o l o g i c a l time, i s e s s e n t i a l l y r e l a t i v e , and changing. We f i n d these three l e v e l s of time and awareness exemplified i n The Family Reunion. Amy l i v e s i n mechanical time, a f r a i d that "the clock w i l l stop i n the dark". She measures time i n "events", ignores r e a l change i n family r e l a t i o n s h i p s , and i n the ind i v i d u a l consciousness. She t r i e s to manipulate her children as i f they were mechanical objects. She imagines that she can stop time by ignoring i t , turning i t o f f , "Nothing has changed. I have seen to that." The members of the family represent varying degrees of awareness, or rather unawareness, i n the mechanical world, and, as the Chorus, at the end of Part I, they u t t e r one of the most bleak and h o r r i f i c passages of E l i o t ' s writings: I am a f r a i d of a l l that has happened, and a l l that i s to come; Of the things to come that s i t at the door, as i f they had been there always. And the past i s about to happen, and the future was long since se t t l e d . 58 And the wings of the future darken the past, the beak and claws have desecrated History. Shamed The f i r s t cry i n the bedroom, the noise i n the nursery, mutilated The family album, rendered ludicrous The tenants* dinner, the family p i c n i c on the moors. Have torn The roof from the house, or perhaps i t was never there. The b i r d s i t s on the broken chimney. I am a f r a i d . Agatha and Mary, and perhaps Downing, belong to the intermediate region. They are sensitive to psychological changes and know that events are swallowed up i n the f l u x of changing states of consciousness. Agatha knows that Harry w i l l have changed. The man who returns w i l l have to meet The boy who l e f t . Round the stables, In the coach-house, i n the orchard, In the plantation, down the corridor That led to the nursery, round the corner Of the new wing, he w i l l have to face him -And i t w i l l not be a very j o l l y corner. And Harry knows. He knows that his present includes the past, h i s own and h i s family's, and he i s haunted by i t i n the form of the Eumenides. He knows that he i s part of a pattern, but asks, "What i s the design?" He does not know what his past i s u n t i l Agatha t e l l s him. Agatha also assumes b r i e f l y the function of the Lady and gives him a "moment of c l a r i t y " , a glimpse of the s t i l l point. I only looked through the l i t t l e door When the sun was shining i n the rose-garden And heard i n the distance t i n y voices And then a black raven flew over. When he understands his past the Eumenides lose t h e i r t e r r o r and become "bright angels" and Harry moves int o the t h i r d region of time and awareness. He can assume hi s parents' g u i l t as well as his own and make expiation f o r both. The clock stops i n the dark f o r Amy, and the family are l e f t i n "a cloud of unknowing", or of knowing the wrong things, i n t h e i r world of mechanical time. Agatha and Mary are s t i l l i n t h e i r "neutral t e r r i t o r y - between two worlds". For Harry "danger and safety have a new meaning". He has had the experience and now he knows the meaning. He has redeemed time. In broad terms E l i o t i s i n accord with Bergson's d e f i n i t i o n of duration and his theory of organic time but d i f f e r s on the r e l a t i v e value of change and permanence. Bergson finds h i s elan v i t a l , h i s unceasing l i f e force, which i s h i s equivalent of God, i n man himself, and he sees time and change as always being creative. E l i o t looks to something beyond space and time f o r h i s creator, and, on the r e l a t i v e values of change and permanence, he says: . . . we are s t i l l over-valuing the changing, and under-valuing the permanent. The permanent has come to mean paralysis and death . . . . One of the consequences, as i t seems to me, of our f a i l u r e to grasp the proper r e l a t i o n of the Eternal and the Transient i s the over-estimation of our own time . . . . The notion of a past age or c i v i l i z a t i o n being great i n i t s e l f , precious i n the eyes of God, because i t succeeded i n adjusting the d e l i c a t e r e l a t i o n of the Eternal and the Transient, i s completely a l i e n to us. 8 60 In East Coker E l i o t continues his s p i r i t u a l quest, hi s search f o r the Absolute through Time. Whereas Burnt  Norton emphasizes a i r , and the abstract processes of thought, East Coker deals with the more concrete earth, the time of seasons, generation i n the home of his ancestors, and a sense of community, or agape. In The Family Reunion his concern was with the immediate'family, but i n East Coker E l i o t extends t h i s concern i n time, to include his ancestral f o r -bears and h i s own organic generation. Old stone to new b u i l d i n g , old timber to new f i r e s , Old f i r e s to ashes, and ashes to the earth Which i s already f l e s h , f u r and faeces, Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and l e a f . The poet cannot escape the time cycle of the natural world of h i s ancestor, S i r Thomas El y o t , nor the h i s t o r i c a l setting of the past which begot him. In A f t e r Strange Gods E l i o t modified the view he had expressed e a r l i e r i n the essay "Tradition and the Individual 9 Talent", that l i t e r a t u r e derives from l i t e r a t u r e . He says that he can no longer treat t r a d i t i o n as a purely l i t e r a r y problem. He now includes "the long struggle of adaption between man and h i s environment, which has brought out the best q u a l i t i e s of both: i n which the landscape has been moulded by numerous generations of one race, and i n which the landscape i n turn has modified the race to i t s own character".^ G The poet r e a l i z e s that his being includes not only the whole past of his own organic l i f e , but that also of his family, the 61 fusion of t h e i r p h y s i o l o g i c a l , b i o l o g i c a l and psychological rhythms and the struggle with the land and the seasons out of which they were generated. Keeping time, Keeping the rhythm i n t h e i r dancing As i n t h e i r l i v i n g i n the seasons The time of seasons and the constellations The time of milking and the time of harvest The time of the coupling of man and woman And that of the beasts. He i s part of the cosmic cycle of time and space and of season and earth. He must discover h i s place i n the pattern and create h i s own being out of the struggle i n the cosmic cycle. He asks: What i s the l a t e November doing With the disturbance of the spring And creatures of the summer heat, And snowdrops writhing under feet And hollyhocks that aim too high Red i n t o gray and tumble down Late roses f i l l e d with early snow? The chaos and tensions of t h i s temporal pattern w i l l be resolved i n the "zero summer" of L i t t l e Giddinq. but the poet knows now that there i s only a l i m i t e d value i n the knowledge derived from experience, that the pattern imposed by experi-ence alone i s a f a l s e one, For the pattern i s new i n every moment And every moment i s a new and shocking Valuation of a l l we have been. This creation of a new being and a new r e a l i t y i n every moment resembles Bergson's creative evolution but d i f f e r s i n i t s "end". 62 Bergson's c r e a t i v i t y has p o t e n t i a l i t y but no end. It i s open. E l i o t ' s c r e a t i v i t y i s l i k e that of Bradley, who posits that an end i s e s s e n t i a l to being, that searching without an end, we never f i n d anything more than r e l a t i o n s . In Bradley's f i n i t e centre of experience a new s e l f or being and a new r e a l i t y i s created, and i t i s new i n every moment, but since the series of these f i n i t e centres comes together i n the Absolute, t h e i r special characters must dissolve i n what tran-11 scends them. Because the c r e a t i v i t y of Bradley and E l i o t i s t e l e o l o g i c a l , they are s t r i v i n g towards an end which has been there always, "now and always", above and beyond, since the beginning. E l i o t introduces East Coker with the paradoxical state-ment of He r a c l i t u s , "In my beginning i s my end" (Fr. 103). The depth of meaning i n t h i s statement depends, as many of E l i o t ' s statements do, on the double meaning of "end". The end which i s i n t h i s beginning i s that toward which he i s s t r i v i n g i n time; i t i s h i s aim, or h i s entelechy. At the end of the poem, he reverses the opening sentence and says: "In my end i s my beginning". Here h i s end can mean the end of his phenomenal being, his death, which i s the beginning of a new s p i r i t u a l l i f e , or, on another l e v e l , his end, or goal, could be the beginning of transcendence into the Absolute, not just f o r a moment, but f o r E t e r n i t y . "In my end i s my beginning". But when was his beginning? The poet knows that beyond the past of his own family, his past 63 includes the whole of creation. Beyond the time of t h e i r " l i v i n g i n l i v i n g seasons", beyond the time of "Eating and drinking. Dung and death", Dawn points, and another day Prepares f o r heat and silence. Gut at sea the dawn wind Wrinkles and s l i d e s . I am here Or there, or elsewhere. In my beginning. And beyond the experience of "old men", We must be s t i l l and s t i l l moving Into another intensity For further union, a deeper communion Through the dark cold and the empty desolation The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters Of the p e t r e l and the porpoise. In my end i s my beginning. This i s a poem about generation i n time, but that i s not a l l . In Section III the poet revives the s t e r i l e darkness of the Waste Land, the darkness that o b l i t e r a t e s i n s i g h t , i n words which are reminiscent of Samson Agonistes: O dark dark dark. They a l l go into the dark, The vacant i n t e r s t e l l a r spaces, the vacant into the vacant, a darkness i n which the sense i s cold and " l o s t the motive of ac t i o n " , i n the world of phenomenal time. But from t h i s dark-ness of despair the poet does draw a moment of in s i g h t , and he c r i e s out "Be s t i l l , my soul": I said to my soul, be s t i l l , and l e t the dark come upon you Which s h a l l be the darkness of God. 64 And the s t e r i l e darkness i s transformed into the darkness of San Juan de l a Gruz, h i s dark night of the soul, the way of negation, "wherein there i s no ecstasy". The poet must enter into the dark struggle i n time to work out the oppositions of l i f e ' s paradoxes. In order to possess what you do not possess You must go by the way of dispossession. In order to a r r i v e at what you are not You must go through the way i n which you are not. Only when, out of the s t r i f e of these oppositions, he has created harmony, w i l l he achieve his end, which i s his beginning. Burnt Norton was the beginning of the poet's s p i r i t u a l quest, the b i r t h of h i s conception of the quest, symbolized by a i r . East Coker came down to earth and to the generation of his organic and s p i r i t u a l being i n "what has been". In Dry  Salvages the poet passes through agony and s t r i f e i n time, and death by water which leads to r e b i r t h , to "dying into l i f e " . In Dry Salvages there i s no f i r e , but only the reviving water and the struggle which leads to the "crowned knot of f i r e " and the redemption of L i t t l e Giddinq. In East Coker the poet was concerned with his past and the past of his ancestors. In Dry Salvages his concern i s extended in t o cosmic time, and he delves deeper into his being, into his unconscious, which he approaches by way of myth. Modern historians and anthropologists view myth as the symbolic representation of man's innermost desires and motives. 65 Ernst Cassirer defines myth as primitive f i g u r a t i o n s , i n which the inner processes f i n d t h e i r consummation and resolve the tensions generated by t h e i r subjective impulses. These subjective processes are represented i n d e f i n i t i v e objective forms and figures. Cassirer says that a l l mental processes f a i l to grasp r e a l i t y i t s e l f and, i n order to represent i t , to hold i t at a l l , man i s driven to the use of 12 symbols. Poets l i k e E l i o t use myth as a method of symbolic representation to escape the l i m i t a t i o n s of l i t e r a l meaning, and to express thoughts and f e e l i n g s too deep f o r expression i n discursive language, as well as to control the form of t h e i r work. The r i v e r , "the strong brown god", symbolizes the poet's unconscious, and i t s movement through time. The open-ing passage of the poem i s a metaphor f o r an almost Freudian concept of the primordial p r i n c i p l e of l i f e , or f o r the Jungian unconscious. The deep unconscious i s " s u l l e n , untamed and i n t r a c t a b l e " , but "Patient to some degree", i n that i t can usually be repressed, kept i n check by the exigencies of c i v i l i z a t i o n , by the "builders of bridges". At i t s f r o n t i e r s i s the threshold of consciousness, where i t i s untrustworthy. And, although i t seems to be under the control of the "dwellers i n c i t i e s " , i t i s always there, implacable, Keeping his seasons and rages, destroyer, reminder Of what men choose to forget. Unhonoured, unpropitiated By worshippers of the machine, but waiting, watching and waiting. 66 As the r i v e r i s within us, the sea i s a l l about us. The r i v e r contains the movement of the i n d i v i d u a l i n time, and the sea i s both i n f i n i t y and et e r n i t y , the receptacle of a l l creation and a l l time. I f the r i v e r i s time temporal, then the sea i s et e r n i t y , both the beginning and the end of the cosmic cyc l e , and, as history determines r e a l i t y , the sea a f f e c t s the land, or experience i n time, "the beaches where i t tosses / Its hints of e a r l i e r and other creation". It i s the " s a l t on the b r i a r rose" and the "fog i n the f i r trees". The sea has "Many gods and many voices"; i n fact i t has a l l the gods and a l l the voices, now and always. There i s no end, but addition: the t r a i l i n g consequence of further days and hours. The r i v e r flowing into the sea marks the death by which each moment lapses i n t o the past, in t o cosmic chaos. The r i v e r measures the flow of human time, but on the sea the t o l l i n g b e l l Measures time, not our time, rung by the unhurried Ground swell, a time Older than the time of chronometers. Both the r i v e r within us, our i n d i v i d u a l experience i n time, and the sea around us, the accumulation of experience i n time, e x i s t as forces of chaos, without order and without pattern. The only hope f o r an end to the "voiceless wailing", the " d r i f t i n g sea and the d r i f t i n g wreckage" i s the "hardly, barely prayable / Prayer of the one Annunciation" of the b e l l . 67 When time stops and time i s never ending And the ground swell, that i s and was from the beginning, Clangs The b e l l . The b e l l announces the unprayable prayer of the "calamitous annunciation", the physical death and decay of those f o r whom the temporal i s the ultimate; the " l a s t annunciation", or l a s t Judgment; and the hardly, barely prayable prayer of the "one Annunciation", Incarnation. "The hint h a l f guessed, the g i f t half understood, i s Incarnation." The rose-garden, the leaves f u l l of children, the unheard music hidden i n the shrubbery, the shaft of sunlight, The wild thyme unseen, or the winter lightning Or the w a t e r f a l l , or music heard so deeply That i t i s not heard at a l l , these are the hints and guesses of the " g i f t h a l f understood -Incarnation". Nature takes on the look of the supernatural at the in t e r s e c t i o n of Time and the Timeless. Incarnation gives time i t s place i n history and i n E t e r n i t y , when the word w i l l become the Word and love w i l l become Love: Here the impossible union Of spheres of existence i s actual, Here the past and future Are conquered, and reconciled. Most c r i t i c s take f o r granted that the Incarnation i s that of Jesus, and that consequently Four^Quartets i s a C h r i s t i a n poem. But t h i s i s not necessarily so. As i n C h r i s t i a n philosophy the Incarnation of Jesus bisected h i s t o r y , 68 brought the temporal and Eternal together, and changed the conditions of temporal experience, giving i t a pattern and a new meaning, so the Incarnation of Krishna d i d the same f o r Indian philosophy. It seems to me that i n Dry Salvages. E l i o t i s thinking more i n terms of the Bhaaavad-Gita than i n terms of the Scriptures. He not only mentions Krishna twice, but several of h i s al l u s i o n s and phrases come from the Bhaqavad-Gita: the "unattached devotion which might pass f o r devotionless" (p. 42); Krishna's command to Arjuna to "fare forward" and not to think of the " f r u i t s of action" (p. 62); the "sudden il l u m i n a t i o n " which gives meaning to experience (p. 54); and the "time of death i n every moment" (p. 44). The " r i g h t action" which i s freedom from past and future i s the equivalent of the "dharma" of Krishna's r i g h t action i n a l l f i e l d s of l i f e . I must agree with B. N. Chaturvedi, who writes that i t i s doubtful whether E l i o t would have been able to a t t a i n to the s p i r i t u a l i n s i g h t embodied i n Four Quartets., 13 i f he had not made a study of the Indian Scriptures. E l i o t himself said that the two years he spent i n the study of Eastern philosophy had l e f t him " i n a state of enlightened m y s t i f i c a t i o n " , 1 4 and i n his 1929 essay on Dante, he spoke of the Bhagavad-Gita as "the next greatest philosophical poem to 15 the Divine Comedy within my experience." The depth of his s p i r i t u a l involvement i n h i s poetry doubtlessly owes much to the transcendental search beyond the phenomenal, and beyond l o g i c , f o r the Absolute, which he found i n the Upanishads and 69 the Bhagavad-Gita. The f a b r i c of his thought and of his expression has an indefinable q u a l i t y which might be traced to h i s steeping himself i n Eastern thought and mysticism. The r e c o n c i l i a t i o n at the point of i n t e r s e c t i o n between Time and the Timeless comes to man i n d i f f e r e n t ways. To the shadow men of the Waste Land, i t comes not at a l l . For the Saint i t i s "something given and taken i n a l i f e t i m e ' s death i n love". This i s the r e l i g i o u s way of transcendence, the way of Thomas a Becket. But f o r "most of us", committed to time, not only our own, but the time of our forbears, of history, of myth, of a l l creation, we are only undefeated because "we have gone on t r y i n g " . Nourished by hints and guesses, we r e j e c t nothing, but s t r i v e f o r understanding to show us our place i n the pattern of history so that we can "fare forward" i n t e l e o l o g i c a l time. For us the meaning of the past, whether i t be the mythical past of our unconscious or the f a c t u a l past of h i s t o r y , must be constantly revived. This i s the " f i g h t to recover what has been l o s t / And found again and again", the "temporal reversion" which nourishes the " l i f e of s i g n i f i c a n t s o i l " . This i s the h i s t o r i c way of con-c i l i a t i o n , of redeeming time. H i s t o r i c a l thinking, "Trying to unweave, unwind, unravel / And piece together the past and the future", i s one of the themes as well as one of the methods which E l i o t uses i n Four Quartets. H i s t o r i c a l thinking adds another dimension to his poetry, f o r his past includes not only the past of his 7G own c o n s c i o u s n e s s , b u t a l s o t h e p a s t o f h i s whole c u l t u r e and t r a d i t i o n . H i s p o e t r y i t s e l f i s a h i s t o r y o f t h e human con-s c i o u s n e s s o f h i s age. As t h e i n d i v i d u a l c o n s c i o u s n e s s must redeem l o s t t ime i n memory i n o r d e r t o u n d e r s t a n d i t and c r e a t e i t s new b e i n g i n e v e r y moment, so man must a l s o r e c a l l and u n d e r s t a n d h i s t o r y , t h e p a s t o f h i s c u l t u r e , i n o r d e r t o a c h i e v e t h e e n t e l e c h y o r end o f t h e c o l l e c t i v e c o n s c i o u s n e s s . He must a c c e p t h i s t o r y w i t h a l l i t s consequences, i t s power o f development and i t s t e l e o l o g i c a l c e r t a i n t i e s . One way o f r e c o r d i n g h i s t o r y i s t h e a r t i s t i c r e - c r e a t i o n of t h e p a s t i n t h e f o r m o f l i t e r a t u r e , i n myth, drama, o r p o e t r y . As Toynbee has s a i d o f t h e I l i a d , anyone who b e g i n s r e a d i n g i t a s h i s t o r y w i l l f i n d i t f u l l o f p o e t r y , and anyone 16 who b e g i n s r e a d i n g i t a s p o e t r y w i l l f i n d i t f u l l o f h i s t o r y . T h i s statement i s t r u e a l s o o f F o u r Q u a r t e t s , i n d e e d o f most of E l i o t ' s p o e t r y . I n h i s e s s a y " T r a d i t i o n and t h e I n d i v i d u a l T a l e n t " E l i o t s a y s : . . . t h e h i s t o r i c a l sense i n v o l v e s a p e r c e p t i o n , n o t o n l y o f t h e p a s t n e s s o f t h e p a s t , b u t o f i t s p r e s e n c e ; t h e h i s t o r i c a l sense compels a man t o w r i t e n o t merely w i t h h i s own genera-t i o n i n h i s bones, b u t w i t h a f e e l i n g t h a t t h e whole o f t h e l i t e r a t u r e o f Europe f r o m Homer and w i t h i n i t t h e whole o f t h e l i t e r a t u r e o f h i s own c o u n t r y has a s i m u l t a n e o u s e x i s t e n c e and composes a s i m u l t a n e o u s o r d e r . T h i s h i s t o r i c a l s e n s e , which i s a sense o f t h e t i m e l e s s as w e l l as, o f t h e t e m p o r a l and o f t h e t i m e l e s s and t h e t e m p o r a l t o g e t h e r , i s what makes a w r i t e r t r a d i t i o n a l . 1 7 E l i o t "himself wrote w i t h t h e f e e l i n g o f H e r a c l i t u s , t h e Bha g a v a d - G i t a and t h e U p a n i s h a d s . D a n t e , L a n c e l o t Andrewes, 71 Bradley, and of war-time England i n his bones. In L i t t l e  Gidding (1942), he wrote: Here, the int e r s e c t i o n of the timeless moment Is England and nowhere. Never and always. In one sweep the poet apprehends a l l time, reconciling h i s t o r y , continuity, e t e r n i t y . As Cassirer says, "A thousand 18 connections are forged i n one stroke' 1. I t i s i n L i t t l e Gidding that E l i o t resolves the tensions of history and myth, as well as a l l the other c o n f l i c t s i n his l i f e and i n his poetry: time into the timeless;.;the elements: a i r , earth, water and f i r e into the "crowned knot of f i r e " ; the chaos of the seasons into "Zero summer"; memory into the redemption of time; love into Love; and words into the Word. L i t t l e Gidding i s the in-gathering and fusion of a l l E l i o t ' s themes. He re-states a l l the p o l a r i t i e s of his d i a l e c t i c , resolves them, and weaves them into a harmonious whole, which becomes his own private myth. In L i t t l e Gidding he says that "History may be s e r v i -tude", or "History may be freedom". I f we do not use history to nourish the " l i f e of the s i g n i f i c a n t s o i l " , then we are acted upon by time; we are the victims of history. But i f we recapture the past, through "the rending pain of re-enactment", i f we understand i t and f i n d our place i n the\design, then we can command the w i l l to act, which i s freedom, "for history i s a pattern of timeless moments". We need not r e c a l l a l l of hist o r y , but only the timeless moments i n which the human 72 consc iousness has c o n f r o n t e d the f o r c e s of t ime and c r e a t e d i t s own being by " r i g h t a c t i o n " . We s h a l l not cease f rom e x p l o r a t i o n And the end of a l l our e x p l o r i n g W i l l be t o a r r i v e where we s t a r t e d And know the p l a c e f o r the f i r s t t i m e . We had the exper ience but missed the meaning, but now we "know the p l a c e f o r the f i r s t t i m e " . T h i s i s the way of h i s t o r y , the redeeming of t ime by unders tanding the p a t t e r n . As a p o s t s c r i p t t o E l i o t ' s use of h i s t o r y we c o u l d add Genesius Jones ' o b s e r v a t i o n t h a t h i s " p e r s p e c t i v e of h i s t o r y " has a profound e f f e c t on the way we use words . He uses the semantic gap, or d i f f e r e n c e i n words , t o g i v e the f e e l i n g of 1 9 the d i f f e r e n c e i n h i s t o r i c a l p e r i o d s . The o r g a n i c c o n n e c t i o n between the present of E l i o t and the past of h i s ances tors i s made by such passages a s : Two and t w o , necessarye c o n i u n c t i o n , H o l d i n g each o ther by the hand or arm Which betokeneth Concorde. And i n L i t t l e G i d d i n q terms l i k e " t i m e ' s covenant" and the " s p i r i t unappeased and p e r e g r i n e " forge l i n k s w i t h b i b l i c a l and medieval t i m e s . I n h i s essay "The Music of P o e t r y " E l i o t says t h a t a t c e r t a i n moments "a word can be made t o i n s i n u a t e the 20 whole h i s t o r y of l a n g u a g e " , and t h i s i s what he h i m s e l f does w i t h the way he uses words i n t i m e . A d i s c u s s i o n of h i s t o r y i n e v i t a b l y subsumes the subject of memory, the r e c a p t u r e of t ime i n the i n d i v i d u a l mind. 73 In L i t t l e Gidding E l i o t expresses the ultimate function of memory: This i s the use of memory: For l i b e r a t i o n - not less of love but expanding Gf love beyond desire, and so l i b e r a t i o n From the future as well as the past. The closer man gets to his goal of the s t i l l point and the resolution of a l l his c o n f l i c t s i n understanding and harmony, the f r e e r he i s of the bonds of time temporal, u n t i l f i n a l l y he achieves perfect integration and l i b e r a t i o n i n Et e r n i t y . In the opening passage of L i t t l e Gidding the poet presents a configuration which i s a preview of the f i n a l harmony: Midwinter spring i s i t s own season Sempiternal though sodden towards sundown, Suspended i n time, between pole and t r o p i c . The chaos of the seasons which we found i n the A p r i l of The  Waste Land and the " l a t e November" of East Coker with i t s "disturbance of the spring", becomes integrated i n a sort of ges t a l t . a sudden i l l u m i n a t i o n which i s more than the summation of i t s parts. I t has the glowing i n t e n s i t y of the s t i l l point, which i s always there, waiting, at the interse c t i o n of Time and the Timeless, the configuration which i s a promise of the end toward which we are s t r i v i n g . The "midwinter spring" i s not bound by "time's covenant". It s i n t e n s i t y derives from the resolution of the paradoxical 74 oppositions of "f r o s t and f i r e ' 1 , the b r i e f sun that "flames the i c e " , the "windless cold that i s the heart's heat", "the glare that i s blindness", the "pentecostal f i r e i n the dark time of year". The paradoxical imagery may have been suggested by Heraclitus' Fragment 67: God i s day-night, winter-summer, war-peace, satiety-famine, But he changes l i k e f i r e which, when i t mingles with the smoke Of incense, i s named according to each man's pleasure. In L i t t l e Giddinq a l l these paradoxes are compressed into the tra n s i t o r y blossom Of snow, a blossom more sudden Than that of summer, neither budding nor fading, Not i n the scheme of generation. The essence, as well as the pattern of the configuration are i n "the summer, the unimaginable / Zero summer". In e a r l i e r poems E l i o t uses the abstract terms " r e a l i t y " and "consciousness". He does not define them i n discursive terms, but says that mankind cannot bear very much r e a l i t y and that to be conscious i s not to be i n time* For E l i o t r e a l i t y or consciousness i s to be i n touch with E t e r n i t y . In L i t t l e Giddinq the terms disappear, but r e a l i t y and consciousness are 21 s t i l l there. They have become concrete, "concrete universals" i n which a l l oppositions are resolved into a concrete object, which i s a harmonious whole, a fusion of a l l aspects of experi-ence, including time, yet transcending them. So, i n L i t t l e Giddinq. we f i n d r e a l i t y and consciousness transmuted into 75 "midwinter spring", into the "voice of the hidden w a t e r f a l l " , and the "children i n the apple tree", Not known, because not looked f o r But heard, half heard, i n the s t i l l n e s s Between two waves of the sea. E l i o t recognizes a d i s t i n c t i o n between the words which men use i n the changing, phenomenal world of time, and the Logos, or Word of God i n the unseen world of the s p i r i t . "Logos" i s the Greek word f o r the Law, the expression of reason and order i n words or things: i t i s a l l i n t e l l i g e n c e , the source of a l l that i s good. One of the epigraphs of Burnt Norton, and one which applies to the whole poem, Four  Quartets, i s Heraclitus' Fragment 2: But although the Law i s universal, the majority l i v e as i f they had understanding peculiar to themselves. In C h r i s t i a n philosophy the Logos i s i d e n t i f i e d with the creative word of Jesus. In h i s "song", Simeon speaks of the newly born Jesus as "the in f a n t , the s t i l l unspeaking and unspoken word". In the purposeless world of The Waste Land the word i s merely the instrument of man's aimless twittering i n time. In "The Hollow Men" i t i s the meaningless whisper of t h e i r dry voices. Only i n Ash Wednesday i s the word drawn into the d i a l e c t i c struggle, Speech without wor<l and Word of no speech. 76 But, although the Word i s there, waiting i n the "unread v i s i o n of a higher dream", the protagonist must humbly confess, Lord, I am not worthy Lord, I am not worthy but speak the word only. And, although, f o r the f i r s t time, "the l i g h t shone i n the darkness and / Against the Word", The u n s t i l l e d world s t i l l whirled About the centre of the s i l e n t Word. In the unconscious world of "Sweeney Agonistes" we f i n d a reversion i n the conversation of Doris, Dusty and Sweeney. Sweeney remarks succinctly: I gotta use words when I talk to you But i f you understand or i f you dont That's nothing to me and nothing to you We a l l gotta do what we gotta do The word i s present i n the perspective of hi s t o r y i n the time of Coriolanus and i n the time of Edward C y r i l Parker, but the Word i s s t i l l hidden "under the dove's wing, hidden i n the t u r t l e ' s breast", u n t i l the predetermined time, the moment i n time which gave the meaning, Then i t seemed as i f men must proceed from l i g h t to l i g h t , i n the l i g h t of the Word. In Four^Quartets the Word appears i n the epigraph, but then i t i s absorbed into the struggle and f i n a l l y made concrete 77 i n the " f i r e beyond the language of the l i v i n g " , the f i r e which devours and harmonizes a l l the elements of the d i a l e c t i c c o n f l i c t . P a r a l l e l t o the s t r u g g l e between words and the Word i n the s p i r i t u a l w o r l d , i s t h e p o e t ' s ^ i n t o l e r a b l e w r e s t l e w i t h words and meanings" i n h i s own phenomenal w o r l d of t i m e . One of the themes of Four Q u a r t e t s , indeed the theme of many contemporary p o e t s , i s poe t ry i t s e l f , and the p o e t ' s use of words. F o r E l i o t the c o n f l i c t of words i s p a r t of the s t r u g g l e i n t e l e o l o g i c a l t ime t o ach ieve the s t i l l p o i n t by unders tand-i n g the word . I t i s the p o e t ' s q u e s t , h i s need t o g i v e order t o speech, h i s " r a i d on the i n a r t i c u l a t e " , and h i s at tempt t o present i n poetry those " f r o n t i e r s of consc iousness beyond 22 which words f a i l though meanings e x i s t " , and which cannot be communicated i n d i s c u r s i v e language . E l i o t has an i n n a t e d i s t r u s t of p u r e l y r a t i o n a l speech and knowledge, " t h e wisdom of o l d men" and " l a s t y e a r ' s l a n g u a g e " . He makes a c l e a r d i s t i n c t i o n between wisdom, knowledge, and the i n f o r m a t i o n communicated by words . I n the f i r s t Chorus of The Rock he a s k s : Where i s the l i f e we have l o s t i n l i v i n g ? Where i s the wisdom we have l o s t i n knowledge? Where i s the knowledge we have l o s t i n i n f o r m a t i o n ? I n Four Q u a r t e t s the p o e t ' s movement through t ime i s f u s e d w i t h h i s s t r u g g l e w i t h words , and he d e a l s w i t h the c o n f l i c t i n P a r t V of each poem. I n Burnt Norton he reminds 78 us t h a t words and music a r e t e m p o r a l : "Words move, music moves O n l y i n t i m e " . B u t , a l t h o u g h t h e poet has a v i s i o n o f t h e p a t t e r n by which a r t conquers t i m e , o f t h e s t i l l n e s s , "as o f a C h i n e s e j a r s t i l l " , he cannot c o n t r o l t h e words. Words s t r a i n , C r a ck and sometimes b r e a k , under t h e b u r d e n , Under t h e t e n s i o n , s l i p , s l i d e , p e r i s h , Decay w i t h i m p r e c i s i o n , w i l l n o t s t a y i n p l a c e , W i l l n o t s t a y s t i l l . I n E a s t Coker he a t t e m p t s t o g a i n p e r s p e c t i v e i n h i s t o r y by u s i n g t h e words of h i s a n c e s t o r , but he f i n d s t h a t t h e s e no l o n g e r s e r v e . That was a way o f p u t t i n g i t - n o t v e r y s a t i s f a c t o r y : A p e r i p h r a s t i c study i n a worn-out p o e t i c a l f a s h i o n , L e a v i n g one s t i l l w i t h t h e i n t o l e r a b l e w r e s t l e W i t h words and meanings. He must not be d e c e i v e d by t h e " q u i e t - v o i c e d e l d e r s " f o r t h e s e d a n c e r s " a r e a l l gone under t h e h i l l " and t h e poet i s s t i l l " t r y i n g t o l e a r n t o use words". Because t h e poet i s l i v i n g i n phenomenal t i m e , he must change, and e v e r y change i n v o l v e s a l s o a change i n t h e way he u s e s words, and e v e r y attempt I s a w h o l l y new s t a r t , and a d i f f e r e n t k i n d o f f a i l u r e Because one has o n l y l e a r n t t o get t h e b e t t e r o f words F o r t h e t h i n g one no l o n g e r has t o s a y , o r t h e way i n w h i c h One i s no l o n g e r d i s p o s e d t o say i t . I n Dry S a l v a g e s E l i o t e x p l o r e s man's a t t e m p t t o a p p r e -hend t h e m y s t e r i e s o f l i f e , t o d e r i v e comfort and g u i d a n c e , 79 and even to control l i f e with the ancient practice of word magic: To communicate with Mars, converse with s p i r i t s , To report the behaviour of the sea monster, Describe the horoscope, haruspicate or scry, Observe disease i n signatures, evoke Biography from the wrinkles of the palm And tragedy from f i n g e r s . In L i t t l e Giddinq E l i o t i s attempting to present his concept of the s t i l l point, the integration of h i s b e l i e f s both as man and poet, a concept so complex that i t cannot be expressed i n discursive language, but only presented i n the paradoxical and symbolic terms which he uses. Whether E l i o t e n t i r e l y succeeds only he can know, but his poem Four (Quartets not only served to "purify the d i a l e c t of the t r i b e " and urge the mind to " a f t e r s i g h t and fo r e s i g h t " , but i t also "set a crown" on his " l i f e t i m e ' s e f f o r t " . Is i t possible that t h i s poem has set a new standard of precision i n the English language, a standard best described i n hi s own words: And every phrase And sentence that i s ri g h t (where every word i s at home, Taking i t s place to support the others, The word neither d i f f i d e n t nor ostentatious, An easy commerce of the old and new, The common word exact without v u l g a r i t y , The formal word precise but not pedantic, The complete consort dancing together) Every Dhrase and every sentence i s an end and a beginning, Every poem an epitaph. In his a r t i c l e on E l i o t ' s l a t e r poetry, F. R. Leavis said that to have gone seriously into the poetry of E l i o t i s to have had 80 a quickening insight into the nature of thought and language; a d i s c i p l i n e of i n t e l l i g e n c e and s e n s i b i l i t y calculated to promote, i f any could, r e a l v i t a l i t y and precision of thought, 23 an education, i n t e l l e c t u a l , emotional, moral. Although E l i o t does not t a l k very much about love i n his poetry, i t i s the "unfamiliar name" which gives the glowing int e n s i t y to the words of h i s l a t e r poems. Symbolized by music, by water, by l i g h t through water, Love i s the qua l i t y which turns the f i n a l understanding of Four Quartets into a radiant experience. I t i s the unheard music i n the shrubbery, the leaves f u l l of children, the voice of the hidden w a t e r f a l l . The word "love", appearing f i r s t i n the purgatorial Ash  Wednesday i s transformed by the Lady from sensual to divine Love. Marina i s the essence of Love, both f i l i a l and divin e , who leads her father from the despair of time temporal to the v i s i o n of E t e r n i t y . The words "love" or "Love", i n t h e i r r e l a t i o n to time, occur i n the l a s t movement i n each of the four Quartets. In Burnt Norton the poet speaks of Love as "unmoving / Timeless, and undesiring". He sees Love as the unmoved mover, akin to A r i s t o t l e ' s " f i r s t mover", the divine mind which ceaselessly causes a c t i v i t y by the Love which i t in s p i r e s ; and to Brahman, described i n the Bhagavad-Gita as "Author of t h i s world, unmoved and moving". 2 4 In East Coker he says that Love i s most nearly i t s e l f When here and now cease to matter. 81 The c l o s e r we come to the s t i l l point, to E t e r n i t y , the less alloyed with desire and earthly attachments, the more under-standing and divine, Love becomes, u n t i l we take the "Way of the Saint 1 1, which i s Divine Love. In Dry Salvages E l i o t describes Love as the way of the Saint, and contrasts i t to the way of most of us: But to apprehend The point of i n t e r s e c t i o n of the timeless With time, i s an occupation of the saint -No .occupation e i t h e r , but something given And taken, i n a l i f e t i m e ' s death i n love, Ardour and selflessness and self-surrender. In L i t t l e Gidding E l i o t mentions love twice. In the short, l y r i c a l fourth movement, love i s s t i l l involved i n the struggle i n time temporal. E l i o t equates love and Love with the f i r e s of l u s t and the Pentecostal, f i r e s of Divine Love: The only hope, or else despair Lies i n the choice of pyre or pyre -To be redeemed from f i r e by f i r e . Who then devised the torment? Love. Love i s the unfamiliar Name Behind the hands that wove The i n t o l e r a b l e s h i r t of flame Which human power cannot remove We only l i v e , only suspire Consumed by e i t h e r f i r e or f i r e . As F. G. Matthiessen says i n an a r t i c l e on the Quartets. " A l l we have i s the terms of our choice, the f i r e of our destructive l u s t s , or the inscrutable, t e r r i b l e f i r e of Divine 25 Love". 82 In the f i n a l movement of the Quartets, the resolution of the oppositions of a l l h i s themes, E l i o t divides the two strophes by an unpunctuated l i n e which comes from The Cloud  of Unknowing. written by an unknown fourteenth-century mystic: "With the drawing of t h i s Love and the voice of t h i s C a l l i n g " . 2 ^ The poet i s drawing together "the voice of t h i s C a l l i n g " , h i s own poetry, which i s his attempt to achieve his own s t i l l point, and the Divine Love, the "white l i g h t moving", which u n i f i e s and illumines his words. The two epigraphs of Heraclitus are evidence that Four^Quartets i s an expression of E l i o t ' s search i n time f o r harmony through the struggle of opposites. Heraclitus expressed t h i s struggle i n the continual c o n f l i c t and i n t e r -change, the continual becoming, between the four elements of the pre-Socratic Greeks: a i r , earth, water and f i r e . F i r e was the primary substance; the other three elements were con-stantly changing transformations of f i r e , held together by the tension which divided them, so that t h e i r unity materialized i n the " e v e r - l i v i n g F i r e " : F i r e l i v e s i n the death of earth, and a i r l i v e s i n the death of f i r e ; water l i v e s i n the death of a i r , earth i n that of water (Fr. 76) Heraclitus saw F i r e as the agent of Zeus (Fr. 32), and of the Divine Law (Fr. 33), so that a l l the elements, subsumed II i n F i r e , are part of the unity of the Logos, i n an i n v i s i b l e harmony", which Heraclitus says " i s better than the v i s i b l e " (Fr. 54). To Heraclitus, opposites were not d i f f e r e n t things, 83 but the opposite sides of the same thing or process. "The way up and down i s one and the same" (Fr. 60}, and "Disease makes health pleasant and good, hunger s a t i s f a c t i o n , weariness r e s t " (Fr. I l l ) . So E l i o t sees "our only health" as "the disease". He believes that a l l l i f e i s one, so that he does not sepa-rate good from e v i l , movement from s t i l l n e s s , l i f e from death, beginning from end, or time from e t e r n i t y . The tension which divides them also holds them together i n "hidden attunement". They are harmonized i n moments of " p a r t i a l ecstasy", and Four Quartets i s the poet's attempt to fuse these moments into the s t i l l point of the turning world at the int e r s e c t i o n of Time and the Timeless, which i s E t e r n i t y . As we have seen, E l i o t uses the four elements of Heraclitus as symbols i n the s p i r i t u a l struggle f o r wholeness, emphasizing each element i n one of the Quartets. In the opening l y r i c of the second movement of L i t t l e Giddinq. he shows that everything l i v e s i n the death of something e l s e , i n a process of "dying i n t o l i f e " . In the f i r s t stanza he says, "The death of hope and despair / This i s the death of a i r " , symbolizing the death of r a t i o n a l thought, opposed to f i r e , the s p i r i t . In the second stanza, "Dead water and dead sand" are "contending f o r the upper hand", and "This i s the death of earth", or organic l i f e . And f i n a l l y Water and f i r e succeed The town, the pasture and the weed. Water and f i r e deride The s a c r i f i c e that we denied. 84 Water and f i r e s h a l l rot The marred foundations we forgot, Of sanctuary and choir. This i s the death of water and f i r e . So the cycle begins a l l over again, seeking new oppositions and new u n i t i e s . For E l i o t the d i s s o l u t i o n and resolution of the elements of Heraclitus i n f i r e , i s p a r a l l e l to the resolution of a l l the oppositions i n h i s own s p i r i t u a l quest. F i n a l l y , with the c o n c i l i a t i o n of a l l oppositions at the i n t e r s e c t i o n of Time and the Timeless, at the s t i l l centre, A l l s h a l l be well and A l l manner of thing s h a l l be wel l . The poet fuses the t e r r i f y i n g i n t e n s i t y of Dante's "unfathomed 27 blaze... bound by love", San Juan's Love "engulfed i n the 28 f i r e ever flaming upward", and the "knot of burning Love" 29 of The Cloud of Unknowing with his own struggle toward the all-consuming F i r e of Divine Love - the Absolute, the Timeless, and " A l l manner of thing s h a l l be well". When the tongues of flame are in-folded Into the crowned knot of f i r e And the f i r e and the rose are one. 85 CHAPTER V TIME AS TECHNIQUE One of Louis Zukofsky's "Five Statements of Poetry" i s that without poetry, l i f e would have l i t t l e present. He sees poetry as the present of the past, and says that to write poems i s not enough i f they do not keep the l i f e that i s gone. E l i o t uses the philosophy of time, the "keeping of the l i f e that i s gone", as one of the major themes of his poetry. He also uses time as a technique. In Burnt Norton he says, Words move, music moves Only i n time. But f o r E l i o t the fa c t that music and poetry are temporal a r t s , that words and musical notes unfold i n time, i s not enough. They must move within a pattern. Only by the form, the pattern, can art conquer time, can words and music reach the S t i l l n e s s , as a Chinese j a r s t i l l Moves i n i t s s t i l l n e s s . So, p a r a l l e l to h i s attempt to complete the pattern of his s p i r i t u a l quest or journey i n time, i s the poet's attempt to create a matching pattern out of the words he uses i n his poetry. This quest, a l s o , i s a journey; i t involves movement i n time: 86 The d e t a i l of the pattern i s movement As i n the figure of the s t a i r s . The figure on the s t a i r s i n Ash Wednesday i s "turning'' to look back i n time at his other s e l f , keeping the l i f e that i s gone, so that he may move into the future with understanding. So, the poet must do the same with his words. They must move in time with purpose and harmony within the pattern. In East Coker. written i n 1940, he says: So here I am, i n the middle way, having had twenty years -Twenty years largely wasted, the years of 1 1entre deux guerres Trying to learn to use words, arid every attempt Is a wholly new s t a r t , and a d i f f e r e n t kind of f a i l u r e Because one has only learnt to get the better of words For the thing one no longer has to say, or the way i n which One i s no longer disposed to say i t . What the poet has to say, and the words with which he has to say i t , must move i n time, and they must move, l i k e the notes of music, within the confines of the pattern. We see t h i s movement of theme, and of words, i n the works of E l i o t , between The Waste Land and the Four^Quartets. As William B l i s s e t t says, "Poetry, l i k e other things of t h i s world, e x i s t s i n the flow of time, and f a l l s under i t s law of corruption and death". 2 To express the corruption and death of the time-ridden world of the Waste Land, E l i o t moves away from the musical rhythms of t r a d i t i o n a l English poetry to the rhythms of contemporary c o l l o q u i a l speech, i n which "Dissonance, even cacophony, has i t s place",3 to the "Shrieking voices / Scolding, mocking, or merely chattering" (Burnt Norton V. 53-54) 87 The music of p o e t r y , w h i c h , as E l i o t says i n the same e s s a y , must be l a t e n t i n the common speech of i t s t ime and i n 4 the common speech of the p o e t ' s p l a c e , begins t o reappear i n " the l o s t l i l a c and the l o s t sea v o i c e s " of Ash Wednesday, and i n " the woodthrush c a l l i n g through the f o g " of " M a r i n a " . The music o f c h i l d h o o d memories echoes i n the notes of the b i r d s i n the "Landscape" poems, and i n the Choruses from The Rock h i s music takes on the tones of C h a r i s i n " the l i g h t t h a t f r a c t u r e s through unquie t w a t e r " . With the c o n c i l i a t i o n of Time and the T imeless i n Four % i a r t e t s . a l l the notes are gathered together i n a musica l c o m p o s i t i o n i n which the burden of each q u a r t e t sounds s e p a r a t e l y and a l s o sounds i n concert w i t h the burden of the o ther t h r e e q u a r t e t s . As E l i o t says i n "The Music of P o e t r y " , The music o f a word i s , so to speak, a t a p o i n t of i n t e r -s e c t i o n : i t a r i s e s f rom i t s r e l a t i o n f i r s t to the words immediate ly preceding and f o l l o w i n g i t , and i n d e f i n i t e l y t o the r e s t of i t s c o n t e x t ; and from another r e l a t i o n , t h a t of i t s immediate meaning i n t h a t context t o a l l the o ther mean-ings which i t had i n o t h e r c o n t e x t s , t o i t s g r e a t e r or l e s s weal th of a s s o c i a t i o n .5 The same p r i n c i p l e a p p l i e s t o r e c u r r e n t sounds, symbols , images, and even themes. I n the same a r t i c l e E l i o t says t h a t the use of r e c u r r e n t themes i s as n a t u r a l to poet ry as t o music ; t h a t there are p o s s i b i l i t i e s f o r verse which bear some analogy t o the development of a theme by d i f f e r e n t groups of i n s t r u m e n t s ; t h a t t h e r e are p o s s i b i l i t i e s of t r a n s i t i o n s i n a poem comparable t o the d i f f e r e n t movements of a symphony or a 8 8 q u a r t e t ; and t h a t there are p o s s i b i l i t i e s of c o n t r a p u n t a l 6 arrangement of s u b j e c t - m a t t e r . T h i s i s , of c o u r s e , the p r i n c i p l e which operates i n the s t r u c t u r e of Four Q u a r t e t s . As Leonard l inger says i n h i s a r t i c l e , " T . S . _ E l i o t ' s Images of A w a r e n e s s " , i n t h e i r con-t i n u i t y and r e l a t e d n e s s , E l i o t ' s images, themes and concepts 7 become, " c a t e g o r i e s of r e f e r e n c e " . An example of E l i o t ' s use of a r e c u r r e n t image i s the movement of h i s rose -garden through t e l e o l o g i c a l t ime and through h i s p o e t r y . I t changes and takes on new s i g n i f i c a n c e w i t h each new movement i n t i m e . I t probably began as an a c t u a l garden f requented by the poet i n h i s c h i l d h o o d . Repeated memories t ransformed i t i n t o the symbol of c h i l d h o o d innocence and j o y , a symbol of f e r t i l i t y amid barrenness . I n an essay on p o e t i c imagery E l i o t wrote : Only a p a r t of an a u t h o r ' s imagery comes f rom h i s r e a d i n g . I t comes f rom the whole of h i s s e n s i t i v e l i f e s i n c e e a r l y c h i l d h o o d . Why, f o r a l l of u s , out of a l l t h a t we have h e a r d , seen, f e l t , i n a l i f e t i m e , do c e r t a i n images r e c u r , charged w i t h e m o t i o n , r a t h e r than o thers? The song of one b i r d , the l e a p of one f i s h , a t a p a r t i c u l a r p l a c e and t i m e , the scent of one f l o w e r , an o l d woman on a German mountain p a t h , s i x r u f f i a n s seen through an open window p l a y i n g cards a t n i g h t a t a s m a l l French r a i l w a y j u n c t i o n where there was a water -m i l l : such memories may have symbol ic v a l u e , but of what we cannot t e l l , f o r they come t o r e p r e s e n t the depths of f e e l i n g i n t o which we cannot p e e r .8 I n Ash Wednesday the f e r t i l i t y of the garden i s i n t e n s i -f i e d by c o n t r a s t i n g " the f r u i t of the gourd" w i t h " t h e p o s t e r i t y of the d e s e r t " . In h i s "Landscape" poems he r e c a l l s C h i l d r e n ' s v o i c e s i n the orchard Between the b lossom- and f r u i t - t i m e , 89. and the memory of the garden of h i s childhood grows "strong / Beyond the bone", u n t i l i t touches him to the very "quick", and the double meaning of the word "quick" enriches the garden image with i t s urgency, and introduces the birds i n t o the garden: O quick quick quick, quick hear the song-sparrow, Swamp-sparrow, fox-sparrow, vesper-sparrow At dawn and dusk. Follow the dance Of the goldfinch at noon.... Follow the f l i g h t Of the dancing arrow, the purple martin. The f l i g h t of the b i r d s , the ancient symbol of time passing, gives temporality to the garden. The garden has accumulated the innocence of childhood, the joy of children's voices, the urgency and the promise of the quickness of the b i r d s . When the poet begins his s p i r i t u a l quest i n Burnt  Norton, and says that "Other echoes / Inhabit the garden", the echoes are a l l we need. We already know that garden, with a l l that i t promises. But we must not f a l l under the "deception of the thrush", f o r i t i s s t i l l only a promise, a moment of " p a r t i a l ecstasy", an "intimation of immortality". In The Family Reunion, when Harry speaks of "a door that opens at the end of a corridor", we know that the door opens into the garden, the garden which becomes e x p l i c i t l a t e r i n "I ran to meet you i n the rose-garden". In the f i n a l passage of L i t t l e Gidding the poet does not mention the garden, but we know that i t i s there, i n a l l i t s innocence and sweetness, i n "a condition of complete s i m p l i c i t y " where "the f i r e and the rose are one". 9 0 The " f i r e " image also moves i n time, taking on new significance at every move. The poet uses the same image i n d i f f e r e n t contexts and i n d i f f e r e n t times, and i n t h i s way solves the problem which Harry posits i n The Family Reunion: To be l i v i n g on several planes at once Though one cannot speak with several voices. The f i r e of Buddha's "dry flame of l u s t " and of the burning of St. Augustine's "cauldron of unholy loves" i n "The F i r e Sermon" are contrasted with the ring of Dante's r e f i n i n g f i r e . In the incident of the bombing r a i d i n L i t t l e Gidding. an episode i n a p a r t i c u l a r moment of time, the " f l i c k e r i n g tongue" of the "dark dove" becomes the f i r e of destruction. The Pentecostal dove descending with i t s "flame of incandescent t e r r o r " brings the saving F i r e of the Love of the Holy Ghost. The image of f i r e now bears a l l the meanings which the poet has unfolded i n time: the f i r e of l u s t , of destruction, of p u r i f i c a t i o n , and the all-consuming f i r e of Love, so that a l l the f i r e s become one, and the poet can speak with several voices at once. By the time E l i o t wrote Four Quartets. he had accumulated and developed a complete code of images and symbols. E l i o t r e a l i z e s that the ultimate problem of modern man i s that of " l o s t unity". Man i s alone i n the universe, i s o l a t e d i n both time and space, a l l his human relationships disrupted. E l i o t solves t h i s problem i n his l i f e and i n his poetry with the same technique. He goes to the past f o r his solution. The heroine of Brian Moore's new novel, struggling 91 against i n s a n i t y , i s disturbed by suddenly forgetting her name*. In school she has amended Rene" Descarte's proposition, "Coqito. ergo sum" to "Memento, ergo sum": I remember, there-fore I am. When she cannot remember her name or her past, Mary Dunne doubts her own existence.^ E l i o t , however, goes f a r beyond Mary Dunne's reasoning. He knows that to create his own being, he must know and accept h i s past, not only the immediate; past of h i s own memory, but also the past of his ancestral memories. He explores the myth of Heraclitus, of Buddha, of Krishna, of Jesus C h r i s t , of Dante and of h i s own English ancestors; the memories of his own childhood i n America, and h i s own deep unconscious. With the energy of his entelechy he u n i f i e s them and thus i s able to create his own being, and a new s p i r i t u a l dimension, which he expresses i n his own private myth, a myth which i s a l i v i n g force, and which moves him to a c t i o n . As P. W. Martin says, men need the l i v i n g myth as surely as they need bread. Bread sustains l i f e , but myth gives point to l i f e . * 0 As we have seen, E l i o t uses the mythical method i n his poetry. By contrasting the emptiness of contemporary l i f e with the l i v i n g myth of e a r l i e r times, he c o n c i l i a t e s the oppositions of Time and E t e r n i t y . The s t i l l point i s the symbol of the ener-gising force of the entelechy. Just as the poet, struggling i n time, achieves the wholeness of his personality, so, i n h i s struggle i n time, "to f get the better of words", he completes the pattern of h i s poetry, with every word "at home". As his move-ment through time i s on two l e v e l s , Time and the Timeless, so 92 i n Four Quartets, beyond the l e v e l of philosophy and meaning i s the l e v e l of emotional and s p i r i t u a l r e a l i t y . As the d i a l e c t i c oppositions operate i n the consciousness of the poet, so they are echoed i n the counterpoint and antiphony i n the structure of his poems: the statements and counterstatements; reverses and contrasts i n tension and freedom, and of c o l l o q u i a l and l y r i c a l . E l i o t ' s poetic technique conforms uniquely with his own d e f i n i t i o n of what he c a l l s the "auditory imagination", the f e e l i n g f o r s y l l a b l e and rhythm, penetrating f a r below the conscious l e v e l s of thought and f e e l i n g , invigorating every word; sinking to the most primitive and forgotten, returning to the o r i g i n and bringing something back, seeking the beginning and the e n d. 1 1 E l i o t ' s death on January 4, 1965, was followed by numerous a r t i c l e s about his influence and h i s poetry. A state-ment made by Brand Blanshard, which was published i n the E l i o t memorial number of the Yale Review, should not go unanswered. Blanshard asserts: "The chief f a i l u r e of his l i f e was that he never found anything that would l i f t men up as h i s e a r l i e r writing had flattened them. He was not a humanist; he had no great hopes of the human race i f l e f t to i t s natural sorry s e l f . He espoused royalism and c l a s s i c i s m , but these are peripheral a i d s , not central gospels. What of t r a d i t i o n a l f a i t h ? This, i n the end, was what he settled f o r . I t was man's l a s t , best hope; and i n Four '•Quartets, i n the choruses of The Rock, and i n 93 C h r i s t i a n i t y and Culture he pleaded i t s cause earnestly.... 12 I am a f r a i d that i t did not come o f f . " Blanshard's error i s i n pinning E l i o t and his poetry down i n time - to the C h r i s t i a n era. I t i s true that E l i o t declared i n 1928 that he was an Anglican. It i s true h i s t o r i -c a l l y that the Incarnation of Jesus C h r i s t gave the time of Western man i t s place i n Eternity. But E l i o t ' s philosophy of time absorbs not only the time of Western man, but the time of the pre-Socratic philosophers and the Oriental philosophers as w e l l , the l a t t e r symbolized by the incarnation of Krishna. Denis Donoghue points out that Murder i n the Cathedral (written i n 1935), may be considered a work of piety before i t i s a work of a r t . By contrast Four Quartets i s a work of a r t , which, having s a t i s f i e d a r t i s t i c c r i t e r i a , i s therefore seen 13 to be also an act of piety. Comparing the two works, we may concede that Murder i n the Cathedral has more C h r i s t i a n dogma than Four Quartets, but that Four Quartets has greater inten-s i t y and beauty, and we may ask, with Richard Lea, "Is i t possible that the l e v e l reached i n Four Quartets i s beyond 14 C h r i s t i a n i t y ? " C e r t a i n l y Four Quartets i s not s p e c i f i c a l l y the doctrine of Jesus C h r i s t , nor of Buddha, nor Krishna. It may include some of the philosophy of these, and of other voices and other times, but the poet has fused them into his own philosophy of time, and created h i s own private myth. Aldous Huxley has said that to the mystics who are generally regarded as the best of t h e i r kind ultimate r e a l i t y does not appear under the aspect of the l o c a l d i v i n i t i e s . 9 4 I t appears as a s p i r i t u a l r e a l i t y so f a r beyond the p a r t i c u l a r 15 form of personality, that nothing can be predicted of i t . Four 'Quartets i s the expression of the poet's s p i r i t u a l r e a l i t y , the achievement of h i s s t i l l point, h i s Absolute. I t i s h i s discovery i n time of the Absolute of E t e r n i t y , and i t s r e a l i z a t i o n i n poetry, i n a r t i s t i c creation. In an a r t i c l e about time i n the novels of Lawrence D u r r e l l , Alan Warren Friedman said that, except i n the heraldic world of a r t i s t i c creation, the Absolute does not e x i s t , that i t i s possible only i n myth.^ E l i o t appears to agree with Friedman's state-ment. In h i s thesis on the philosophy of Bradley he said that "the Absolute responds only to an imaginary demand of thought 17 and s a t i s f i e s only an imaginary demand f o r f e e l i n g " . To s a t i s f y t h i s demand f o r an Absolute, E l i o t worked out his philosophy of Time and the Timeless, h i s own private myth, i n the poetry which culminated i n Four Quartets. 95 FOOTNOTES Chapter I 1"Dante", The Sacred Wood: Essays on Poetry and C r i t i c i s m (New York: Methuen, 1920), pT~Io"2. ^The Poetry of T. S. E l i o t (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1952J, p. 180. 3Four ^Quartets (London: Faber and Faber, 1959). A l l references to the poems of Four Quartets are to t h i s text. 4The phrase i s E l i o t ' s . L i t t l e Gidding. V, 220. 5Selected Essays: 1917-1932 (London: Faber and Faber, 1932), p. 238. 6Anatomv of C r i t i c i s m (New York: Atheneum, 1966), p. 77. 7"T. S. E l i o t ' s Four Quartets". The Adelphi. XXI:4 (July-September 1945), 186. 8"Poetry and Philosophy", Selected Prose. ed. by John Hayward (London: Faber and Faber, 1953), p. 55. 9 T . S. E l i o t , Poems Written i n Early Youth (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1967), p. 9. This i s the f i r s t of two stanzas. According to a note attached to the poem i t i s printed from the o r i g i n a l holograph, now i n possession of King's College, Cambridge, and which i s the e a r l i e s t surviving poetical ms. by E l i o t . There i s no t i t l e . The verso i s super-scribed: " E l i o t / January 24, 1905". Below i n red ink i s the c r e d i t mark "A" i n the hand of Mr. Roger Conant Hatch, his English master at Smith Academy. The poem was f i r s t printed with the t i t l e "A L y r i c " i n Smith Academy Record ( A p r i l 1905). IQPoems Written i n E a r l y Youth, p. 10. l l T . S. E l i o t , Collected Poems: 1909-1935 (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1936), p. 199. A l l the poems of E l i o t quoted i n t h i s essay with the exception of Four Quartets, are i n t h i s text. l 2Appearanee and R e a l i t y : A Metaphysical Essay (London: Swan, Sonnenschien, 1897j^ E l i o F read t h i s book while doing graduate work i n philosophy at Harvard, and began work on his t h e s i s . Knowledge and Experience i n the Philosophy of F. H. Bradley. HeTxnished i t inTondon i n 1 9 1 6 , submitting i t 96 i n p a r t i a l f u l f i l m e n t f o r h i s degree of Doctor of Philosophy at Harvard. It was o f f i c i a l l y approved and f i l e d i n the Houghton Library. Faber and Faber published the thesis i n 1964, but discovered that some pages were missing. The content of these pages seems to be included i n two a r t i c l e s which E l i o t published i n The Monist i n 1916, and the a r t i c l e s : "The Development of Leibniz' Monadism" and "Leibniz' Monads and Bradley *s F i n i t e Centres", were published as Appendix I and II of the book. E l i o t ' s 1927 a r t i c l e on Bradley i s published i n his Selected Essays, pp. 406-417. ^Appearance and R e a l i t y , p. 226. l^Knowledge and Experience. p. 204. Chapter I I x " V o r t i c i s m " , Fort n i g h t l y Review. XCVI (September 1914), 464. 2j_he Sacred Wood, p. 167. ^Psychology: B r i e f e r Course (New York: C o l l i e r s , 1962). James began h i s P r i n c i p l e s of Psychology, a landmark of modern psychology, i n 1878, ten years before Bergson published his f i r s t work, and published i t i n 1890. A few years l a t e r he condensed t h i s monumental work into the one-volume Psychology: B r i e f e r Course. 4 S e l e c t e d Essays, p. 289. ^T. S. E l i o t : His Mind and His A r t (London: As i a Publishing House, 1962J7 P« 36. ^T. Sj. E l i o t : The Metaphysical Perspective (Carbondale: Southern I l l i n o i s Press, 1963/, p. 146. E l i o t , trans, by C l a i r e Pace and Jean Stewart (New York: Funk and Wagnalls, 1966), p. 55. 8"Ulysses, Order, and Myth", The D i a l . LXXV (November 1923), 483. 9The D i a l . LXXX I (September 1921), 453. 1 Q A r c h e t v p a l Patterns i n Poetry: Psychological Studies  of Imagination (London: Oxford University Press, 1934J7 p. 308. 97 Chapter I I I xDante A l i g h i e r i , Purgatorio. XXVI:145-7, Tutte l e Opere (London: Oxford University Press, 1904), p. 91. 2 "Because I never hope to return again". The quota-t i o n i s from a poem by Guido Cavalcanti, who, languishing i n e x i l e , has no hope of ever returning to his lady. ^Experiment i n Depth: A Study of the Work of Jung. E l i o t and Tovnbee (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1955). ^Arnold J . Toynbee, A Study of History. Abridgement by D. C. Somervell of vols.~~I-VI (London: Oxford University Press, 1947), p. 217. 5 M a r t i n , Experiment i n Depth, p. v. &There are various translations of Heraclitus with as many numberings of the fragments. E l i o t used the Diels German tr a n s l a t i o n . I have used Kathleen Freeman's The Pre-Socratic  Philosophers, a complete t r a n s l a t i o n of Herman Diels* Fragmente  der Vorsokratiker (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1962^ ^Approach to the Purpose: A Study of the Poetry of T. S. E l i o t (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1964), p. 88. SQuoted by Jones, p. 89. 9Purgatorio. IX, 97-98, The Portable Dante, ed. by Paolo Milano (New York: Viking, 1947) > p. 233. IQNoche pscura del alma. Obras completes (Mexico, D.F.: E d i t o r i a l Seneca, 1942), pp. 544-552. l^Obras completas. p. 546. Translation mine. 1 2 J . S. E l i o t : The Design of his Poetry (New York: Scribner Ts,"~1949), p. 118. Integration of the Personality, trans, by Stanley M. Dell:, (London: Kegan Paul, 1948), p. 27. 1 4Love's Body (New York: Random House, 1966), p. 46. 1 5 C o l l e c t e d Plays (London: Faber and Faber, 1962), p. 17. A l l references to the Plays are to t h i s text. 98 •^Modern Man i n Search of a Soul, trans, by W. S. D e l l and Cary E. Baynes TNew York: Harcourt, Brace, 1962), p . 188. •*-7Bhaqavad-Gita: The Song of God, trans, by Swami Prabhavanda and Christopher Isherwood, with an Introduction by Aldous Huxley (New York: Mentor, 1951), p . 13. Chapter IV ^London Letter", The D i a l . LXXI (September 1921), 455. ^Creative Evolution, trans, by Arthur Mitchell (London: Macmillan, 1914), p . 5. 3The Sacred Wood, p . 52. 4"T. S. E l i o t : Time as a Mode of Salvation", Sewanee  Review. LX (1952), 56. 5Swann's Way, trans, by C. K. Scott Moncrieff (Harmondsworth, England: Penguin, 1957), p . 55. ^Bhagavad-Gita. p . 95. ^T. E. Hulme, Speculations: Essays on Humanism and the  Philosophy of A r t , ed. by Herbert Read (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1924), pp. 5-6. 8"A Commentary", C r i t e r i o n . XII (October 1932), 74-75. The Sacred Wood, pp. 47-59. 1 0 A f t e r Strange Gods (London: Faber and Faber, 1934), P. 17. •^Appearance and R e a l i t y , p . 342. •^Language and Myth, trans, by Susanne Langer (New York: Harper, 1946), p . 88. •L3"The Indian Background i n E l i o t ' s Poetry", English. XV:90 (Autumn 1965), 223. 1 4 A f t e r Strange Gods, p . 43. 1 5 S e l e c t e d Essays, p . 258. 99 1 6 A Study of History, p. 44. 1 7The Sacred Wood, p. 49. •^Language and Myth, p. 27. •^Approach to the Purpose, p. 149. 20 Selected Prose, ed. by John Hayward (London: Faber and Faber, 1953), p. 60. ^ T h e term i s Hegel's. John Crowe Ransom applies i t to poetry i n h i s a r t i c l e , "The concrete universal: Observa-tions on the Understanding of Poetry", Poems and Essays (New York: Knopf, 1955), pp. 159-185. 2 2"The Music of Poetry", Selected Prose, p. 57. 2 3 S c r u t i n v . XI:1 (Summer 1942), 71. 9 4 ^Bhaga vad-Gita. p. 95. 2 5Kenvon Review. V:2 (Spring 1943), 175. 2 6 E d i t e d from the B r i t i s h Museum MS. Harl. 674 by Evelyn Underbill (London: John M. Watkins, 1912), p. 61. 2 7 P a r a d i s o . XXXIII, 85-86. 2 8 0 b r a s Completas. p. 552. 2 9 C l o u d of Unknowing. p. 16. Chapter V ^-Kulchur. 11:4 (Winter 1961), 75. 2"The Argument of T. S. E l i o t 1 s Four Quartets". Toronto University Quarterly. XV:2 (January 1956), 125. 3"The Music of Poetry", Selected Prose, p. 59. 4Selected Prose, p. 58. 100 5 Selected Prose. p. 60. 6 I b i d . . p. 67. 7Sewanee Review. LXXIV :1 (January-March 1966), 197. 8The Use of Poetry and the Use of C r i t i c i s m (London: Faber and Faber, 1933), p. 148. q I Am Mary Dunne (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1968), p7 3. ^Experiment i n Depth. p. 5 . ^ S e l e c t e d Prose. p. 94. 1 2 Y a l e Review. LIV : 4 (June 1965), 639. 1 3The Third Voice: Modern B r i t i s h and American Verse  Drama (Princeton University Press, 1959), p. 93. 1 4The Adelphi. XXI :4 (July-September 1945), 187. 1 5Ends and Means (Chatto and Windus, 1957), p. 289. 1 6 « A iKey' to Lawrence D u r r e l l " , Wisconsin Studies i n  Contemporary L i t e r a t u r e . V I I I . l (Winter 1967), 39. l O l SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY I. Works by T. S. E l i o t : A f t e r Strange Gods: A Primer of Modern Heresy. London: Faber and Faber, 1934. "A Commentary". C r i t e r i o n . XII:46 (October 1932), 73-79. Collected Plays. London: Faber and Faber, 1962. Collected Poems: 1909-1935. New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1936. "The Development of Leibniz's Monadism". The Monist. XXVI-.4 (October 1916), 534-556. Four Quartets. London: Faber and Faber, 1959. Knowledge and Experience i n the Philosophy of F. H. Bradley. London: Faber and Faber, 1964. "Leibniz's Monads and Bradley's F i n i t e Centres". The  Monist. XXVI:4 (October 1916), 566-576. "London Letter". The D i a l . LXXI (September 1921), 453-456. Poems Written i n Early Youth. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1967. The Sacred Wood: Essays on Poetry and C r i t i c i s m . London: Methuen, 1920. Selected Essays. London: Faber and Faber, 1932. Selected Prose, ed. by John Hayward. London: Faber and Faber, 1953. "Ulysses, Order and Myth". The D i a l . LXXV:6 (November 1923), 480-483. The Use of Poetry and the Use of C r i t i c i s m . London: Faber and Faber, 1933. 102 I I . Other Works Cited: Bergson, Henri. Creative Evolution, trans, by Arthur M i t c h e l l . London: Macmillan, 1914. Bhagavad-Gita: The Song of God, trans, by Swami Prabhavananda and Christopher Isherwood, with an Introduction by Aldous Huxley. New York: Mentor, 1951. Blanshard, Brand. " E l i o t i n Memory". Yale Review. LIV:4 (June 1965), 635-640. B l i s s e t t , William. "The Argument of T. S. E l i o t ' s Four '^Quartets". Toronto University Quarterly. XV:2 (January 1946), 115-126. Bodkin, Maud. Archetypal Patterns: Psychological Studies i n Imagination. London: Oxford University Press, 1934. Bradley, F. H. Appearance and Reality: A Metaphysical  Essay. London: Swan, Sonnenschein, 1897. Brown, Norman O. Love's Body. New York: Random House, 1966. Cassirer, Ernst. Language and Myth, trans, by Susanne K. Langer. New York: Harper, 1946. Cattaui, Georges. T. S. E l i o t , trans, by C l a i r e Pace and Jean Stewart. New York: Funk and Wagnalls, 1966. Chaturvedi, B. N. "The Indian Background of E l i o t ' s Poetry". English. XV:90 (Autumn 1965), 220-223. The Cloud of Unknowing. Edited from the B r i t i s h Museum MS. Harl. 674, with an Introduction by Evelyn U n d e r h i l l . London: John M. Watkins, 1912. Dante A l i g h i e r i . Tutte l e Qpere. London: Oxford Univer-s i t y Press, 1904." The Portable Dante. ed. with an Introduction by Paolo Milano. New York: Viking, 1947. Donoghue, Denis. The Third Voice: Modern English and American Verse Drama. Princeton: Princeton Univer-s i t y Press, 1959. 103 Drew, Elizabeth. T. S. E l i o t : The Design of His Poetry. New York: Scribner's, 1949. Friedman, Alan Warren. "A 'Key1 to Lawrence D u r r e l l " . Wisconsin Studies i n Contemporary L i t e r a t u r e . VII:1 (Winter 1967), 31-42. Frye, Northrop. Anatomy of C r i t i c i s m : Four Essays. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957. George, A. G. T. S. E l i o t : His Mind and A r t . London: Asia Publishing House, 1962. Heraclitus. Translation by Kathleen Freeman of Herman Diels ' Fragmente der Vorsokratiker. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1962. Hulme, T. E. Speculations: Essays on Humanism and the  Philosophy of A r t , ed. by Herbert Read. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1924. Huxley, Aldous. Ends and Means. London: Chatto and Windus, 1957. James, William. Psychology; B r i e f e r Course. New York: C o l l i e r , 1962. Jones, Genesius. Approach to the Purpose: A Study of the  Poetry of T. S. E l i o t . London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1964. Jung, C a r l . The Integration of the Personality, trans, by Stanley M. D e l l . London: Kegan Paul, [1948J. . Modern Man i n Search of a Soul, trans, by W. S. D e l l and Gary F. Baynes."- New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1964. Lea, Richard. "T. S. E l i o t ' s Four Quartets". The Adelphi. XXI:4 (July-September 1945J7~186-187. Leavis, F. R. " E l i o t ' s Later Poetry". Scrutiny. XI:1 (Summer 1942), 60-71. Martin, F. W. Experiment i n Depth: A Study of Jung. E l i o t  and Toynbee. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1955. Matthiessen, F. 0. " E l i o t ' s 'Quartets". Kenvon Review. V:2 (Spring 1943), 161-178. Maxwell, D. E. S. The Poetry of T. S. E l i o t . Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1952. 104 Moore, Brian. I Am Mary Dunne. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1968. Pound, Ezra. "Vorticism". Fortnightly Review. XCVI (September 1914), 461-471. Proust, Marcel. Swann1s Way. trans, by C. K. Scott Moncrieff. Harmondsworth, England: Penguin, 1957. Ransom, John Crowe. Poems and Essays. New York: Knopf, 1955. San Juan de l a Cruz. Obras Completas. Mexico, D.F.: Laberinto, E d i t o r i a l Seneca, 1942. Thompson, E r i c . T. S. E l i o t : The Metaphysical Perspective. (With a Preface By Harry T. Moore). Carbondale: Southern I l l i n o i s University Press, 1963. Toynbee, Arnold J . A Study of History. (An abridgement of v o l s . I-VI by"~b. C. Somervell). London: Oxford University Press, 1947. Unger, Leonard. MT. S. E l i o t ' s Images of Awareness". Sewanee Review (Special T. S. E l i o t i s s u e ) , LXXIV:1 (January-March 1966), 197-224. Weitz, Morris. "T. S. E l i o t : Time as a Mode of Salvation". Sewanee Review. LX (1952), 48-64. Zukofsky, Louis. "Five Statements f o r Poetry". Kulchur. 11:4 (Winter 1961), 75. 

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