A C T A U N I V E R S 1 T A T I S L O D Z I E N S I S FO LIA LITTER A R IA A N G LICA 6, 2003___________
Alicja Piechucka
“TH IS M U SIC CREPT BY M E U P O N TH E W A TER S”: THE M U SICA L Q UALITY OF ELIOT’S TH E W A ST E LA N D
AND FOUR Q U A R T E T S
A lm ost all attem p ts to place the w ork o f T. S. E liot in a larger intellectual context look to the poetic trad itio n . A ffinities can be lound w ith the M etaphysicals, whom he revived, with D an te, whom he regarded as C hristian E u ro p e ’s culm ination, bu t m ostly with the F ren ch sym bolists. E liot acknow ledged the im portance o f the latter to m o dern poetry and the fact th a t he was him self one o f the m ain heirs o f the sym bolist m ovem ent outside F rance. In D ecem ber 1908, while E liot was still a stu den t, he discovered in the library o f the H a rv ard U nion The Sym bolist M ovem ent in Literature (A ckroyd 24). E liot subsequently described this well-know n book by A rth u r Sym ons as one o f those which had a m ajo r influence on his oeuvre. S ym ons’ m o n o g rap h introduced E liot directly to L a torgue, R im baud and Verlaine, and indirectly to C orbière (Eliot 1947, 63, 71-73). E ventually, he was to be influenced by several o f the F rench sym bolist poets, from B audelaire to M allarm é.
O ne o f the links between the w orks o f the sym bolist poets of nineteenth- century F ran c e and the poetry o f T. S. Eliot is the m usicality of the verse. T h e eq u atio n between poetry and m usic becam e one of the tenets of sym bolism , as the m usic o f the w ords provided the elem ent of suggestiveness th a t the sym bolists were looking for. V erlaine’s A rt Poétique, w ritten in 1874 and considered to be one o f the m anifestos o f the m ovem ent, clearly expresses this p o in t o f view:
De la musique encore et toujours! Que ton vers soit la chose envolée Q u’on sent qui fuit d ’une âme en allée
M usic lacks the elem ent o f precision which w ords possess and which the sym bolists w anted to dispose o f V erlaine’s poem ends with a dism issal of everything th at does n o t possess this vague, suggestive, m usical qu ality as m ere literature. T he sym bolists w anted to d o with w ords w hat W agner had done with m usical notes. T hey regarded this as a new call, a return to the lost trad itio n o f the song, to the very h eart o f poetry.
In his celebrated m o n o g rap h on T. S. E liot entitled The Invisible Poet, H ugh K e n n er refers to The W aste L and as a poem which m igh t be said to “ap p ro ach the condition o f m usic” (198). A n o th er critic, B ernard H a rris, writes in his essay on the presence o f Shakespeare and W agner in The
W aste Land:
There is probably no end to the fruitful annotation of The W aste Land, and there, no doubt, its greatness lies. But . . . its “meaning” is approached most certainly by reference to music. (116)
If the two critics are right, and a closer ex am ination o f the poem seems to su p p o rt their claim s, one m ight perceive the m usicality, in the broadest sense o f the w ord, of E lio t’s opus m agnum as yet a n o th e r trace o f F rench sym bolism in his oeuvre, in particu lar o f the influence o f V erlaine, by far the m ost m usical o f all sym bolists. H arris also points to this F rench legacy when he accounts for why he claim s th a t The W aste L a n d needs “ to be h e a rd ” :
I say “heard” rather than “read” deliberately, since some of the early response to The Waste Land drew upon a musical sensitivity appropriate both to the state of critical comprehension about the relationship o f the arts in th at whole phase o f “ m odernism ” and to the evident musicality o f Eliot as a poet. This musicality is, of course, related to the whole system of symbolism. (106)
E liot seems to have had in m ind V erlaine’s o ft-q u o ted line “ De la m usique av an t to u te chose” w hen he w rote The W aste Land, a poem in which, as T h o m as R. Rees points ou t, m usic is one o f th e d o m in a n t images (170). Rees also refers to the five sections o f E lio t’s poem as “m o v em ents” (170), which is the m usicological term for one o f the m ain divisions in a long m usical w ork. The W aste Land as a w hole can thu s be likened to a piece of music, a symphony in five movements. Again, to quote H arris (107):
.. .it has become custom ary to describe the five sections as movements, and it has been found appropriate to extend the musical com parison invited by the later poetry back to the earliest work.
H elen G a rd n er, one o f E lio t’s m ost influential critics, speaks o f “ the sym phonic richness o f The W aste L a n d " (37) an d claim s th a t the five
m ovem ents o f the poem , along with certain stru ctu ral p attern s w ithin each m ovem ent, give it a form sim ilar to th a t o f Four Quartets, a w ork regarded as the culm ination o f E lio t’s m usicality:
As the title shows, each poem is structurally a poetic equivalent of the classical sym phonj, or quartet, or sonata, as distinct from the suite. This structure is clear when all lour poems are read, as they are intended to be, together, and is essentially the same as the structure o f The Waste Land. (36)
Like m ost o f the d o m in an t images, the m usical im agery m akes its first appearan ce in the opening m ovem ent o f the poem and continu es to ap pear at irregular intervals th ro u g h o u t the rem aining sections. T h e m usical images in The W aste L a n d are initiated by the W agner lyrics in the first m ovem ent:
Frisch weht der Wind Der Heimal zu Mein Irisch Kind
Wo weilest du? (Eliot 1961, 52)
In the second m ovem ent they assum e the form o f a ragtim e fragm ent:
O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag - (Eliot 1961, 55)
In the third m ovem ent the m usical m o tif takes on varied and co n trastin g forms:
Sweet Thames, run softly till 1 end my song,
Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long. (Eliot 1961, 58) O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter
And on her daughter
They wash their feet in soda water
Et O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole! (Eliot 1961, 59) This music crept by me upon the waters’
And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street. O City city, I can sometimes hear
Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,
The pleasant whining o f a mandoline. (Eliot 1961, 60-61)
In this m ovem ent the m usic is soft and seductive, th en vulgar and jerky, then serious and religious, then it is once m o re soft, an d finally it assum es the sentim ental w hining quality o f a m ando lin being played in a public bar, a distant echo o f Verlaine’s Mandoline, with its graceful and nostalgic air.
Les donneurs de sérénades Et les belles écouteuses
Echangent des propos fades Sous les ram ures chanteuses.
Leurs courtes vestes de soie, Leurs longues robes à queues, Leur élégance, leur joie Et leurs molles ombres bleues
Tourbillonnent dans l’extase D ’une lune rose et grise, Et la m andoline jase
Parmi les frissons de brise. (Verlaine 1985, 508)
T here is also in The W aste L a n d a m o re direct allusion to V erlaine’s poetry - a q u o ta tio n from his sonnet Parsifal.
‘Et O ces voix d ’enfants, chantant dans la coupole!’ (Verlaine 1985, 505)
which is at the sam e tim e one o f the m an y m usical references in the poem , significantly linking the concept o f m usicality and the F ren ch sym bolist who is seen as its m ain p ro p ag ato r.
In the last m ovem ent o f The W aste Land, the m usic takes on the strangeness of the setting, in keeping with the overall tone o f the final section:
A woman drew her long black hair out tight And fiddled whisper music on those strings And bats with baby faces in the violet light Whistled, and beat their wings
And crawled head downward dow n a blackened wall And upside down in air were towers
Tolling reminiscent bells, th at kept the hours
And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells. (Eliot 1961, 66)
L ater in the sam e m ovem ent, W hat the Thunder said, the speaker hears the dry grass singing and a chanted version o f London Bridge is Falling Down.
W e can thus find in The W aste L and m usical fragm ents from W a g n er’s o p era Tristan und Isolde, a ragtim e tune, a soldier’s b allad an d a nursery song, all m elted together in a collage or p o tp o u rri. B ut E liot does not m erely include m usical references in The W aste Land. T h e w hole poem is in m an y respects rem iniscent o f a m usical com position. It is, as Rees p u t it:
.. .a complex exercise in theme and variation, with the dom inant images symbolically projecting at different times the different aspects of the themes o f sterility, sexual love, and fertility or rebirth. Each image in the repetitive scheme is a them atic m otif, or fractional com ponent o f the theme: it is only a salient com ponent o f a theme which strongly implies the whole. (171)
The W aste L and is thus com posed o f a series o f intertw ined m otifs. M otifs from all three above-m entioned them es are frequently woven tog eth er in a single passage by m eans o f a technique called “ them atic fragm en tation , which consists in b reaking up individual them es into recurring com po nen ts o r m otifs (R ees 172). As Paul C hancellor pu t it in his study The M usic o f " The Waste Land":
.. .the form of The Waste Land . . . may be seen as th at of a symphonic poem in sonata form using the chief symbols as its themes, and with a declaiming voice woven with it, partly to supply related but dissonant leitmotifs. (107)
T h e m otifs o f The W aste L and can be divided in to leading and sub o rdinate, the fu nctio n o f the latter being to bring o u t and s u p p o rt the former, operating either independently o r in conjunction with them. A ccording to R ees, this m od e o f co m p o sitio n h as its genesis in th e W ag n erian “ le itm o tif’, in which “ individual m otifs are subjected to successive tra n s form atio n s in m eaning as they app ear in changing co n tex ts” (172). H ugh K e n n er also points to the influence o f W agner on Eliot in his m o n o g rap h , w here he writes:
“A master o f m iniature,” wrote Nietzsche of W agner, intuiting the method of the long Eliot poem. (198)
Rees suggests th a t because o f its m ultiplicity o f m otifs The W aste L a nd also bears a close resem blance to the com positions o f Stravinsky, a m usician whom Eliot greatly adm ired and whose work represents a m od ern elaboration on W agner’s m ethod. Rees thus com m ents on the R ussian co m p o ser’s technique in the context o f E lio t’s poem :
.. .Stravinski’s Le Sacre du Printemps, for example, utilizes large num bers of rhythmical and melodic fragments, each o f which is a thematic com ponent of the several musical themes. The mixture of diverse truncated phrases in Stravinski’s work makes it appear superficially disjointed and even chaotic; yet it is unified by the incessant interlocking repetitions of these fragments. The mingling of the most advanced dissonant harm onies with atavistic rhythms, moreover, corresponds to the mythical-anthropological configuration which underlies Eliot’s conception of the m odem waste land. (173)
E liot m ay thus be said to be endow ed w ith as distinctly a tw entieth-century sensibility as S travinsky’s, and to introduce the new and the startling into poetry in a way which is sim ilar to w hat S travinsky did in m usic.
B ernard H arris discerns a relationship between the form o f E lio t’s poem and the technique o f yet an o th er com poser, Bela B artok , in p articu lar his E -type q u a rte t form , in which the first and the fifth, th e second and the fo u rth m ovem ents are set in com plex relationship to each other, and the
third m ovem ent is b o th a pivot for and a sum m ary o f th ose re latio n sh ips. H a rris sees a parallel betw een such a m usical co m po sitio n and the stru ctu re o f The W aste Land, in which “ E liot so frequently sets b egin nings against endings th a t one is prom pted to look for ‘m e a n in g ’ at the c e n tre” (108). In H a rris’ view, The Fire Sermon, section th ree o f The W aste Land, is its culm ination, co ntain in g and expressing the essential experience o f the poem .
In his trea tm e n t o f the different them es o f The W aste Land, Eliot shows the skill o f a m odern sym phonic com poser. M an y o f the them es and m o tifs are im plied ra th e r th a n stated , b u t, ac co rd in g to B abette D eu tsch , “ th e suggested idea is in tro d u ce d , c o u n te rp o in te d , re p eated , com plicated, transposed and developed with m usicianly skill and sym phonic effect” (132). Even a p p a ren tly irrelevan t m otifs, such as fo r in stan ce the T a ro t pack, are later related to the central sym bolism o f the w ork, as the c o u rt ca rd s are tran sfo rm ed into th e ch a ra c te rs o f th e poem . Eliot also com plies with the sym phonic technique by m ak in g sure th a t each them e is treated in at least four out o f the five m ovem ents. This is a device borrowed from H ector Berlioz, whose cyclical m ode o f com position consisted in one them e, referred to as the “m o tto -th e m e ,” being com m on to all the m ovem ents o f a sym phony. E liot applies a sim ilar technique to his poem , thereby giving it a dense and coh erent th em atic stru ctu re, in which them es and im ages are used cyclically (Rees 173). As the critic Jac o b K o rg shows, every p a rt o f the poem is “connected w ith the others, no t in a conventional way, bu t by m eans o f a com plicated system o f echoes, co n trasts, parallels, and allusions” (456). Rees subscribes to this p o in t o f view, saying o f The W aste L and:
Eliot has brought unity to this poem by means o f a musicological mode of repetitions and variation, or interlocking them atic motifs, all of which relate to the central idea of m odern sterility. (177)
A ccording to B ernard H a rris, the Song o f the T h am es-d au g h ters, which closes The Fire Serm on, is a m usical culm in atio n o f this unifying technique, and is at the sam e tim e central to the experience o f The W aste L and:
There is nothing in modern poetry to equal the scale o f what is attem pted here, where the cities of Augustine, D ante, Shakespeare and the London of everyday acquaintance are reconciled. T hat they are so related is due to the power o f the music here specifically invoked. (114)
He also suggests th a t the “ evidence of E liot’s know ledge and use o f m usical form should cause us to ap p ro ach the m usic in The W aste L a n d w ith high expectation o f its im po rtan ce” (107).
H arris is thus aw are o f the extent to which E lio t’s celebrated concept o f “ the m usic o f p o e try ” is app licab le to The W aste Land. H e also sees in the m usical quality o f the poem “ the tran sfo rm atio n of hum an experience beyond the capacity o f h um an utterance to express it, for which the language o f m usic is necessary” (108). It m ay thus be claimed th a t E liot aspires alm ost to “ poésie p u re ,” to sound above sense, in his attem p t to add a purely lyrical sound effect to the poem . It seems th a t he is trying to sum m on to the re ad er’s ear the m usic itself. I he sweet T ham es runs softly till the song is done, and m usic flows thro u g h the whole poem , as though it were “creeping by us upon the w a te rs,” in the form o f either direct allusions o r structural principles which liken the com position o f the poem to th a t o f a m usical w ork. T h e references to W agner, w hich recur in the poem , sta rtin g w ith q u o ta tio n s from the libretto o f Tristan und Isolde and culm inating in the Song o f the T h am es-daugh ters m odelled on W ag ner’s R hine-dau ghters, send the reader back to the F re n c h sym bolists and the em phasis they placed on the m usicality o f the verse and the prim acy o f sound over m eaning. Eliot referred to W agner, the sym b olists’ fav o u rite co m p o ser and th e ideal o f M allarm é, w hose am bition was to achieve in poetry w hat the G erm an co m p o ser had accom plished in m usic (M a llarm é 174). In acco rd an ce w ith th e sy m bolists’ call to re tu rn to th e m usical o rigins o f p o etry , E liot developed the m usical elem ent in The W aste L an d, add in g V erlaine and M allarm é to the num ber o f F ren ch sym bolist poets w ho influenced him . H e in corp o rated into The W aste L a nd the m elody o f V erlaine’s verse and M a lla rm é ’s a tte m p t to purify and “ m u sicalise” p o etry , en dow ing his m ost celebrated w ork with a m usical qu ality which tw enty years later was to find richer and m ore varied realisatio n in Four Q u artets,, a poem which, as its very title suggests, is p a r excellence m usical.
T he year 1942 was, for several reasons, a lan d m ark in E lio t’s poetic career. It was the year in w hich he published his fa m o u s essay The M usic o f Poetry, usually considered to be a sum m ing-up o f his oeuvre. It was also the year in which, a few m o n th s after the p u blicatio n o f the aforem entioned essay, Eliot w rote L ittle Gidding, the last poem in a series entitled Four Q uartets and at the same tim e the last poem he w rote in his life. Both the essay and E lio t’s last poetic w ork, to which A. D. M oody refers as “ a m usical o rg an isation o f the m in d ’s resou rces” (1996, 180), and which, according to B ernard Bergonzi, co ntains “ a tru e m usica- lization o f th o u g h t” (M oody 1996, 167), give am ple indication o f w hat the p o et’s d eb t to the a rt o f m usic was, and, consequently, how he dealt, in theory as well as in practice, with one o f the m ain tenets o f F rench sym bolism .
In Four Q uartets the very title m akes it im possible to escape m usical associations. As A. D. M oody rem arks:
The compact title plays upon severalness and singularity: four works, and yet one work. N ot ju st four works either, but four to the power o f their four instrum ents; and still the title declares them to be a single work. Further, the title declares the w ords on the pages before us to be musical compositions, like those of H aydn or Beethoven or Bartók. W hat then are the instrum ents o f these “quartets” which are actually composed of words? And are they truly written in quartet form? Thus the title proposes its own questions and perspectives. (M oody 1996, 161)
B ernard Bergonzi m akes a sim ilar p o in t when he writes:
As the title suggests, the Quartets invoke the ideal o f musical form th at had attracted Eliot ever since he wrote the “ Preludes” and the “R hapsody on a Windy N ight” at the beginning of his career, and his 1942 lecture on “The M usic of Poetry” provides a useful background to the Quartets. Indeed, it has been suggested that Eliot had one or more specific string quartets in mind as models, and works by Beethoven and Bartók have been suggested. However this may be, the point is w orth m aking that the quartet is a more intricately organized form than the prelude or the rhapsody, and in the Quartets Eliot attem pts to stiffen and support the articulations of pure musical expression with a regular and predictable form, based on a five-fold division. (164)
A closer exam ination o f the poem itself enables the read er to see how E liot used m usic in his solution to the problem o f finding a form for the long poem . Four Q uartets w as by no m eans the first w o rk in w hich Eliot m ad e such attem pts, b u t it was doubtless the one w hich m o st closely ap p ro ach e d the condition o f m usic. T h o m as R. Rees thus sum m arises E lio t’s developm ent in this respect:
From the time of his earliest compositions Eliot has continually exploited the musical idiom as a source o f formal organization in his verse. In “ Portrait o f a Lady” and “The Love Song o f J. Alfred Prufrock,” the unity and progression o f images is based on interlocking patterns o f repeated words and symbols, which approxim ate the progression of interweaving motifs in the impressionistic music o f Debussy and Ravel. The num erous false starts and broken phrases o f Prufrock’s dialogue follow an incremental development pattern similar to Chopin’s deferred resolutions. The confused and fragm entary development of themes in The Waste Land, combined with the use o f recurrent patterns in the dom inant image-groups, reflect the fused influences of Stravinski and the W agnerian leitmotif. Finally, in the composition of the Four Quartets, E liot moulds his deepest religious feelings into a broader form at for them atic organization suggested by the sonata-allegro form of Beethoven’s string quartets. It is a form at ideally suited to the orderly and sustained development o f contrasting themes. (303)
It m ay thus be said th a t there is an analogy between the form o f Four Q uartets and th a t o f a m usical q u artet. In th e first m ov em en t o f a co n ventional q u arte t three m ain sections can be discerned: th e exposition
section, which introduces tw o contrasting them es or subjects; the developm ent section, in which these tw o them es are subjected to v ariatio ns, extensions, inversions and counterp o in t; and the recapitulation section, w here the original them es, having been resolved and transfigured in the preceding section, are restated in final form . Such a m od e o f co m po sitio n is used n o t only in q u arte ts, but also in o th er types o f m usical w orks, such as son atas, concertos, overtures and sym phonies.
I he m ain subject o f Four Q uartets is the p o e t’s search for “ th e point o f intersection o f the timeless / W ith tim e” (E liot 1990, 275-276), or, to q u o te Rees, „th ro u g h m o rtal tim e, fo r eternal reality ” (304). T h e poem presents, ac co rd in g to H elen G a rd n e r, „ a series o f m ed ita tio n s up o n existence in tim e” (44). Eliot ad a p ts this m aterial to the above-m entioned m usical form , splitting the subject into tw o opposing b u t connected them es - eternity versus tem poral m utability. In each o f th e Four Q uartets, nam ely Burnt N orton, E ast Coker, The D ry Salvages and L ittle Gidding, these tw o them es are in troduced, developed and recapitulated in such a way th a t the p o e t’s ideas are expanded and am plified from q u a rte t to q u a rte t. T h e two c o n tra stin g them es are synthesised in the idea th a t etern ity can only be perceived th ro u g h one’s experiences in the tem poral w orld (R ulew icz X C III).
Even th o u g h m ost critics agree th a t Four Q uartets can be seen as a literary a d a p ta tio n o f a m usical form , they differ in th eir analysis o f the p o em ’s structure. A ccording to H elen G a rd n er, each o f the fo u r poem s is com posed o f five m ovem ents (37). She therefore suggests th a t each poem is a separate q u a rte t, an in terp re tatio n w hich is in keeping w ith the title o f the entire w ork. Rees, on the o th er han d , proposes a different app ro ach :
.. .the reading time for all four o f E liot’s quartets is about the same as the playing time for a string quartet or short eighteenth-century symphony. The four poems o f the Quartets, moreover, correspond to the four movements of a conventional q u artet or symphony, except for the fact that the sonata-allegro form is repeated in all four of Eliot’s poems. It might be preferable, therefore, to consider the entire work as one quartet, for all of the poems are united by interlocking patterns o f dom inant images which project the two themes o f eternity and tem poral mutability. (305)
G a rd n er claims th a t each o f the m ovem ents has “ its ow n inner stru ctu re” (37). T h e first m ovem ent in each poem im m ediately suggests a m usical analogy, as “ it contains statem ent and co u nter-statem ent, o r tw o co ntrasted b u t related them es, like the first and second subjects o f a m ov em ent in strict so n ata fo rm ” (G a rd n er 37). In each poem , th e trea tm e n t o f the two subjects is slightly different. In The D ry Salvages, th e river and sea im ages stand fo r tw o different kinds o f time: the rhythm o f the m icro co sm -h um an life, and th e rh y th m o f th e m acrocosm - ete rn ity (R ulew icz, X C V I). T h e two subjects are presented successively and co n trasted . A sim ilar
tw ofold division m ay be observed in Burnt N orton, in which the co n tra st is betw een ab stra ct speculation and an experience in the g arden, the form er being a m editation on consciousness, the latter a presentation o f consciousness. In East Coker, however, the first m ovem ent falls into fo u r parts. T h e first them e o f the tim e o f the years and the seasons, the rhythm o f birth, grow th and death, is resum ed in the third p arag ra p h , and the second them e, the experience o f being outside tim e, o f tim e having stopped, is briefly restated at the close. In L ittle Gidding, which, according to G a rd n e r, is “ the m ost brilliantly m usical o f the fo u r poem s” (38), the third p a ra g ra p h develops the first tw o, weaving together phrases taken from b o th and form in g a kind o f co unterp o in t. D espite these differences, how ever, it m ight be claim ed th a t the opening m ovem ent introduces the co n trad ictio n s the poem is to reconcile.
T h e constru ctio n of the second m ovem ent is guided by a different principle: here a single subject is treated in two co n tra stin g ways. I he effect, to q u o te G a rd n er, is
.. .like that of hearing the same melody played on a different group o f instrum ents, or differently harm onised, or hearing it syncopated, or elaborated in variations, which cannot disguise the fact th a t it is the same. (38)
This analogy with the use o f different instrum en ts in the q u a rte t form is also em phasised by M oody:
.. .in quartets in sonata form the definition and the development of the themes are effected by using the distinctive characteristics of the different instrum ents. The form al structure is designed to allow the instrum ents to rem ain distinct from each other while yet perform ing together, and so to treat different themes in different ways while weaving them into “a new whole.” (M oody 1996, 163)
T he second m ovem ent opens with a highly lyric passage, which is followed by an extrem ely colloquial passage. T hus, the sam e idea is first handled by m eans o f m etaphors and sym bols, and then developed in a conversational m an ner. T his is particularly conspicuous in The D ry Salvages:
.. .the beautiful lam ent for the anonymous, the endless sum of whose lives adds up to no figure we can name, and leaves little trace but wrecks and wastage on time s ocean, hints in its last stanza where meaning can be found, and the hin t is then developed directly, at first with little m etaphor, but at the close with a full and splendid return to the original images of the river and the sea. This return to imagery in The D ry Salvages comes with wonderful power and force after the purging of our minds by the colloquial and discursive passage in which the poet has deliberately deprived him self of the assistance of imagery. It is a poetic elTect comparable to the m om ent when, after a long and difficult passage of musical development, the original melody returns with all its beauty. (G ardner 39)
As in the first m ovem ent, the relation between the tw o parts varies with the character o f each poem . H ow ever, it can generally be said th a t the first p art is sym bolic and lyrical, whereas the second p a rt is discursive, colloquial and m editative.
T h e third m ovem ent is the crux o f each q u a rte t, o u t o f which recon ciliation grows. It is devoted to the exploration o f the ideas o f the first two m ovem ents, accom panied by sudden changes in m eaning. H elen G a rd n er thus com m ents on this p art o f the poem:
At the close of these centre movements, particularly in East Coker and Little Gidding, the ear is prepared for the lyric fourth movement. The repetitive circling passage in East Coker, in particular, where we seem to be standing still, waiting for something to happen, for a rhythm to break out, reminds one of the bridge passage and leading passages between two movements which Beethoven loved. The effect o f suspense here is comparable to the sensation with which we listen to the second movement o f Beethoven’s Violin Concerto finding its way tow ards the rhythm of the R ondo. (41)
A brief lyrical m ovem ent follows the third p a rt and precedes the fifth one, w hich recapitulates the them es o f the poem and resolves the co n tradiction s o f the first m ovem ent. As in the second m ovem ent, a division in to two parts m ay be observed, though it is slighter and reversed. T h e colloquial passage com es first, and then im ages return in quick succession, w ithout any clear-cut break. T he last lines o f the fifth m ovem ent echo the beginning o f the w hole poem or use im ages from o th e r poem s, an d m a k e up a conclusion which is characterised by “ tender gravity” and “ lyric sweetness” (G a rd n er 37-42).
In a different ap p ro ach to the analogies between the stru ctu re o f Four Q uartets and th a t o f a m usical w ork, T h o m as R. Rees argues th a t since a single m ovem ent o f a m usical q u a rte t constitutes a separate, au to n o m o u s com position with its own distinctive them es and style, it is each o f the fo u r poem s rath er than each o f the five divisions within one poem th a t should be treated as a “m ovem ent” in the m usical sense o f the term . A ccording to Rees, “ like a m ovem ent in a m usical q u a rte t, each o f E lio t’s poem s contain s a full exposition, developm ent and recap itu lation o f them es” (306). T h u s w hat G a rd n e r term s a “m o v em en t” is m erely a segm ent or section w ithin the m ovem ent to Rees. H ow ever, the la tte r’s analysis o f the stru ctu re o f these “ sections” is consistent w ith G a rd n e r’s.
T he com poser G a rd n er refers to in her study o f the m usical q uality of Four Quartets is Beethoven. Rees, on the o ther h an d , claim s th a t as B eethoven selected different subjects and styles for each o f the m ovem ents w ithin his q u arte ts or sym phonies, E liot m ight be said to d e p a rt from B eethoven’s form inasm uch as m ost o f the im p o rta n t im ages interw eave and overlap from poem to poem . It is tru e th a t a different set o f leading
im ages dom inates each o f the poem s, b u t it is also tru e th a t the principal im age pattern s occur in tw o or m ore o f the poem s. T h e im age o f the g ard en , fo r instance, is fo u n d in all fo u r poem s. T h a t o f th e sea is pred o m in an t in The D ry Salvages, but ap pears also in East C oker and L ittle Gidding. T his, according to Rees, suggests an analogy w ith an o th er com poser:
Because of the recurrence of dom inant image patterns throughout the four poems, the true form o f the Four Quartets in m any respects resembles the form at o f H ector Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique, which represents an elaboration on the traditional sonata-allegro form. In addition to the regular introduction, developm ent, and recapitu lation o f themes, Berlioz introduces a motto-theme to unite all the movements o f his symphony, and owing to the recurrence of this theme in each movement, the form is called cyclical.
.. .the structural organization o f the Four Quartets bears at least as much resemblance to Berlioz’s cyclical form as it does to the form o f Beethoven’s string quartets. .. .Eliot exploits the m otto-them e device and thereby enhances the continuity o f his w ork, for all of the poems are threaded together by means of motto-images. These images, in projecting the two themes o f eternity and tem poral mutability, create a highly integrated them atic texture. (307)
W hether the stru ctu re o f Four Quartets is m o re rem iniscent o f the form o f B eethoven’s q u arte ts or o f the cyclical o rg anisation o f B erlioz’s sym phonies is open to dispute. H ow ever, w hat is m ore im p o rta n t is th a t, as Rees pu ts it, “ E lio t’s poetic dialect conform s to the dialect o f m usical disco u rse” (307). N o t only opposing them es, b u t also o pposing voices can be found in Four Quartets. E liot varies his voices like in stru m en ts used in a m usical q u a rte t, and in Burnt N orton, for exam ple, one m ay distinguish tw o voices, the lyric and the didactic. Four Quartets, how ever, lacks th e m ultiplicity of d ra m a tic voices th a t m ay be found in, for instance, The W aste Land. T he voices in E lio t’s last poem are in fact various m an ifestatio n s o f a single voice in different m oods. T hese o ppositions in voice an d them e result in tension. A gain, to q uote Rees:
Tense moments are often followed by sudden resolutions and resolutions dissolve into conflicts, with lyric smoothness alternating with the roughness o f unresolved dilemmas. This flow of tensions and resolutions resembles the changing harm onic progressions in a musical composition in which dissonances resolve into harm onies. (308)
In a w o rd , even th o u g h v a rio u s c o m m e n ta to rs m ig h t d iffe r in th e ir views o f the source o f the m usical influences in Four Q uartets, none o f them denies E lio t’s success in exploiting the m usical idiom . E lio t’s m eth o d m ig h t be com p ared w ith the w o rk o f a co m p o ser, as H elen G a rd n e r does:
The form is inspired by the com poser’s power to explore and define, by continual departures from, and returns to, very simple thematic material. The “ them atic m aterial” of the poem is not an idea or a myth, but partly certain comm on symbols. The basic symbols are the four elements, taken as the m aterial o f m ortal life . . . Burnt Norton is a poem about air . . . East Coker is a poem about earth . . . The D ry Salvages is a poem about water . . . Little Gidding is a poem about fire___(44-45)
In Four Quartets, how ever, the analogy with m usic goes m uch deeper th an a com parison o f the sections with the m ovem ents o f a q u arte t, o r th an an identification o f the fo u r elem ents as “ th em atic m a te ria l.” T he trea tm e n t o f images in the poem is conspicuously rem iniscent o f m usic, and thus rem ains in keeping with E lio t’s view th a t the m usic o f poetry is “ a m usic o f im agery as well as so u n d ” (Eliot 1976, 30). T he images reapp ear, but with co n stan t m odifications and in different contexts, and are com bined with o ther recurring im ages. Eliot does with im agery w hat is done with a phrase in m usic. T hese recu rrent im ages seem obvious and fam iliar w hen one first encounters them , but, as G a rd n er suggests:
As they recur they alter, as a phrase does when we hear it on a different instrum ent, or in another key, or when it is blended and combined with another phrase, or in some way turned round, or inverted. (48)
T h e m ore one reads Four Quartets the m ore these recurring im ages fix them selves in the m ind, and th ro u g h them and the changes in them one can understan d the alterations in the subject and its developm ent. One of the m any instances o f this is the image o f the yew-tree, w hich occurs only th ree tim es in Four Q uartets, b u t each tim e w ith g re at and differen t significance. It appears in the fo u rth m ovem ent o f Burnt Norton'.
Time and the bell have buried the day, The black cloud carries the sun away.
Will the sunflower turn to us, will the clematis Stray down, bend to us; tendril and spray Clutch and cling?
Chill
Fingers o f yew be curled
Down on us? A fter the kingfisher’s wing
Has answered light to light, and is silent, the light is still At the still point of the turning world. (Eliot 1990, 220)
In the above-quoted passage, the yew im age is suggestive o f d eath , w ith co n n o tatio n s o f th e coldness o f the grave and a vague sense o f foreboding. By co n tra st, the yew -tree as presented in the closing stan za o f The Dry Salvages gives a sense o f security:
Here the impossible union O f spheres of existence is actual, Here the past and future Are conquered, and reconciled,
Where action were otherwise movement O f that which is only moved
And has in it no source of movem ent - Driven by daemonic, chthonic
Powers. And right action is freedom From past and future also.
F or most o f us, this is the aim Never here to be realised; W ho are only undefeated Because we have gone on trying; We, content a t the last
If our tem poral reversion nourish (N ot too far from the yew-tree)
The life o f significant soil. (Eliot 1990, 278)
H ere the yew-tree becomes a sym bol o f b o th m o rtality an d im m ortality , beneath whose shade one m ay rest in peace. It stands for h arm o n y . F inally, the im age reappears a t the end o f L ittle Gidding:
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning, Every poem an epitaph. And any action
Is step to the block, to the fire, down the sea’s throat O r to an illegible stone: and th a t is where we start. We die with the dying:
See, they depart, and we go with them. We are born with the dead:
See, they return, and bring us with them.
The m om ent of the rose and the m om ent of the yew-tree Are o f equal duration. (Eliot 1990, 307)
T h e rose and the yew-tree, the u n d erstanding o f love an d the u n d ersta n d in g o f d eath are linked together. T hey are b o th equally valid an d essential to the u n d erstan ding o f life.
In the sam e way as im ages and sym bols recur, certain w ords are used again an d again, their m eaning deepened o r expanded by each fresh use. It could be claim ed th a t w hat Eliot does in Four Q uartets is to explore the m ean in g o f ce rtain w ords. T hese w ords resem ble th e im ages and sym bols in th a t they are co m m o n and obvious. O ne takes these w ords for g ra n te d w hen they first a p p e a r in the poem . H ow ev er, th ro u g h th eir recurrence in some o r all o f the q u arte ts, these app aren tly fam iliar w ords take o n new m eanings and different dim ensions are added to them . T he m o st strik in g am o n g these w ord s are “ e n d ” and “ b eg in n in g ” , which som etim es occur together, and som etim es separately. I t is a p a rt from the
w ord “ b eg in n in g ” th a t “ e n d ” ap p e ars in the o p en in g lines o f Burnt Norton'.
W hat might have been and w hat has been
Point to one end, which is always present. (Eliot 1990, 215)
H ere the m eaning o f “ e n d ” is still vague, even th ou gh it is plain th a t it stretches beyond “ last p a rt” o r “ te rm in a tio n ” . Y et, w hen the word is repeated in the fifth m ovem ent o f the first q u a rte t and is connected with “ beginning” , its sense is clarified:
.. .Only by the form, the pattern, Can words or music reach The stillness, as a Chinese jar still Moves perpetually in its stillness.
N ot the stillness o f the violin, while the note lasts, N ot that only, but the co-existence,
Or say th at the end precedes the beginning, And the end and the beginning were always there Before the beginning and after the end.
And all is always now. (Eliot 1990, 220)
T h e w ord “e n d ” now stands for “com p letio n ” , “ p u rp o se” and “ final cau se.” In Burnt N orton the focus is on the w ord “ e n d ” , an d “ beginning is m erely an addition. In East C oker it is the o th er way ro un d. I he poem is all ab o u t “ beginning” . T he poem opens w ith the w ords “ In m y beginning is m y en d ” (Eliot 1990, 243), which is an inversion o f M ary S tu a rt’s m o tto “ E n m a fin est m on com m encem ent” (Rulewicz X C IV ), and ends with the statem en t “ In m y end is m y beg in n in g ” (E liot 1990, 251), a faithful tran slatio n o f the Scottish q ueen’s precept. In bo th cases em phasis is placed on th e w ord “ beg in n in g ” . In L ittle Gidding, n o t only are the w ords reiterated m any times, but synonym s for bo th are frequently used, and are com bined with various m eanings. As in Burnt Norton, the w ords “ beginning and “ e n d ” are used to generate paradoxes:
W hat we call the beginning is often the end And to m ake an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from. (Eliot 1990, 306)
N um erous o ther w ords recur in this way in Four Q uartets, such as, for exam ple, “ p a st” , “ p resen t” and “ fu tu re” , “m o v em en t” and “ stillness’ , and also com m on prepositions, like “ before” and “ a fte r” , “ here” , “ th ere and “ now ” . T h u s n o t only sym bols and im ages, bu t also certain w ords are p art o f the p o em ’s “ them atic m ateria l.”
In Four Quartets, im ages, phrases and w ords receive m usical treatm en t, which, due to variation and turning, brings o u t hidden m eanings and differen t senses, and m akes it im possible to fix the sym bols in the poem . As H elen G a rd n e r puts it:
Here one must not hunt for meanings and precise correspondencies . . . it is better in reading poetry o f this kind to trouble too little ab o u t the “ m eaning” than to trouble too much. If there are passages whose meaning seems elusive, where we feel we “are missing the point,” we should read on, preferably aloud; for the music and the meaning arise a t “ a p o in t o f intersection,” in the changes and m ovem ent of the whole. (54)
W hen G a rd n e r suggests th a t while re ad in g Four Q ua rtets one should pay atten tio n to w hat she term s the “m usic o f m ean in g ,” which “ arises at ‘th e p o in t o f in tersec tio n ,’ w here w ord relates to w o rd , p h rase to phrase, and im age to im age” (55), she in fact refers to th e view expressed by E liot him self in his essay The M usic o f Poetry. In it, the a u th o r o f The W aste L a n d claim s th a t th e m u sic o f p o e try an d th e m u sic o f the w ord lies in the intersection o f w ords. T he w ord itself, like the n o te in m usic, has m eaning only in relation to o th er w ords. It. exists in tim e an d in usage; and since co n tex ts and usage chang e, the life o f a w ord is a continual d eath . H ow ever, w ithin a poem the w o rd ’s life is preserved and it is there stable, n o t in itself, bu t in its relations to all the o th er w ords in the poem , which in tu rn are held to their m eanin g by their relations to it. T he w ord used in a p artic u la r context is also associated with all the o th er m eanings it had in o th er contexts. T h e m usical p a tte rn o f sounds is superim posed o n to the p a tte rn o f m e anings, and the two layers becom e inseparable (E liot 1976, 25). As a result, the poetry eludes rigid classifications, and its m usic c a n n o t be clearly defined. Four Q uartets is based on this principle, and the m ean in g and value o f the poem stem from w hat A. D . M o o d y calls its “ verbal m usic” (M oody 1996, 161).
O ne m ight o f course w onder how conscious Eliot was of these analog ies w ith m usic. A lth o u g h it is possible to perceive such analogies as som ething o f a confusion o f arts, it would pro b ab ly be to o iar-fetched to claim th a t Eliot literally copies the effects o f a different m edium . It is, how ever, obvious th a t E liot, m uch like the F ren ch sym bolists, believed th a t poetry was closer to the condition o f m usic th a n to th a t of, for instance, painting or sculpture, and th a t it was a tem p o ral art ra th e r th an a spatial one (B ergonzi 182). T h e a u th o r o f P rufrock is, in any case, som eone w ho has th o u g h t a lot a b o u t the affinities betw een poetry and m usic, as this oft-quoted passage from The M usic o f Poetry shows:
I think th at a poet may gain much from the study of music: how much technical knowledge o f musical form is desirable I do not know, for 1 have not that technical knowledge myself. But I believe that the properties in which music concerns the poet m ost nearly, are the sense o f rhythm and the sense o f structure. I think th at il m ight be possible for a poet to work too closely to musical analogies: the result might be an effect o f artificiality; but I know that a poem, or a passage o f a poem, m ay tend to realize itself first as a particular rhythm before it reaches expression in words, and th at this rhythm may bring to birth the idea and the im age— (Eliot
1976, 32)
Eliot insists th a t “ the use o f recurrent them es is as n atu ra l to poetry as to m usic,” and w orks o n this assum ption th ro u g h o u t his q u arte ts, in an attem p t to show th a t “ there are possibilities o f tran sitio n s in a poem com parable to the different m ovem ents o f a sym phony o r a q u a rte t (Eliot
1976, 32).
A. D. M oody claim s th a t Four Quartets is “ dedicated to the ending o f everything hu m an and to silence” (M oody 1996, 161). H e th us seems to suggest th a t E liot attem p ts to ap p ro ach an ideal the F rench sym bolist S tép h an e M allarm é vainly pu rsu ed . O n the o th e r h a n d , M o o d y also states that:
.. .the poem breaks the absolute silence it aspires to, and breaks it with a virtuoso mastery o f verbal music. The mastery of course is directed tow ards the discovery of the spiritual sense of things. But because the spiritual sense is beyond any sense which words can make, the art has to work in a mainly negative way, creating space for “ the dum b spirit by excluding whatever is not in accord with it. (M oody 1996, 173)
A ccording to M oody, Four Quartets
...a sp ire s to an absolute beyond words and speech, but, caught “ in the form ol lim itation,” it must use words and speech to reach tow ards the silence o f the divine W ord. (M oody 1996, 179)
H e also observes that:
G etting the belter of words is of the essence of Four Quartets. Its m ajor design is to so use w ords as to make them mean what is beyond w ords— (M oody 1996, 168)
E lio t’s asp iratio n to w hat he him self term ed “m usical elab o ratio n (Eliot 1976, 33) should no t give rise to the m istaken belief th a t the au th o r of The W aste L a nd thinks the m usic o f poetry could exist independently of the content. O n the con trary, he know s this w ould lead to beautiful m usical poetry th a t m akes no sense. N evertheless, he does believe th a t “ th ere are poem s in which we are m oved by the m usic and take the sense for granted (21). In The M usic o f Poetry he writes:
It is a com m onplace to observe th at the meaning o f a poem m ay wholly escape paraphrase. It is not quite so commonplacc to observe th at the m eaning o f a poem may be som ething larger than its au th o r’s conscious purpose, and som ething rem ote from its origins. (22)
T he view expressed here by E liot is in keeping w ith H elen G a rd n e r’s opinion. G a rd n e r claim s th a t it is pointless to desperately h un t for the m eaning o f Four Q uartets and th a t the beauty o f the poem is th a t p a rt o f this m eaning is doom ed to rem ain elusive. Four Q uartets is n o t a poem “ in which one ‘finds values for x, y and z’ and then can m ake the whole work o u t” (G a rd n e r 54). In stea d , she suggests one sho uld “ find the m eaning in the reading” as:
Reading in this way we may miss detailed significances, but the whole rhythm o f the poem will not be lost, and gradually the parts will become easier for us to understand. (54)
T he “m usic of m ean in g ” (55) in Four Q uartets is therefore close to w hat the sym bolist S téphane M allarm é achieved in his poetry: a poetic vision which, th o u g h blurred and am biguous, conveys som ething tran scen den tal for which w ords hardly exist. Like M allarm é’s verse, Four Q uartets is based on suggestion and allusiveness, and thus eludes precise in terp re tatio n . It is also rem iniscent o f the F rench p o et’s w ork in th a t it is the kind o f poetry th a t aspires to possess the direct appeal o f m usic. M allarm é carried the idea o f m usical effect to an extrem e, and went to o far in his a tte m p t to purify poetry and transform it into a kind o f m usic. H is ideal was silence, a kind o f unheard m usic, an absent perfection. H e disregarded the fact th a t w ords are never devoid o f m eanings, w hich is the m ain reason why his d o ctrine failed. E liot, how ever, is aw are th a t such a m eth o d is dang ero us as it could easily lead into the false identification o f p oetry with m usic which caused the vague obscurity o f so m u ch o f M a lla rm é ’s verse. 1 he A nglo-A m erican poet is sure th a t poetry could ap p ro ach the con ditio n o f m usic w ithout sacrificing its definite core o f m eaning. E liot know s th a t he m ust n o t sacrifice either sense to sound, or sound to sense. H e sum m arises this in an essay on E zra P ound:
W ords are perhaps the hardest of all material of art: for they m ust be used to express both visual beauty and beauty of sound, as well as comm unicating a grammatical statement. (Eliot 1947, 126)
T his concern w ith w ords is also voiced in Four Q uartets itself:
W ords move, music moves
Can only die. Words, after speech, reach Into silence.
W ords strain,
Crack and sometimes break, under the burden, Under the tension, slip, slide, perish,
Decay with imprecision, will not stay in place, Will not stay still.
(Eliot 1990, 220)
In E lio t’s case, however, this strife w ith w ords is n o t a losing battle. In Four Quartets, he m anages to realise his ideal o f “ the m usic o f poetry, which, according to him, does no t only lie in the m elody o f the verse, bu t also in the m usic o f w ords, im agery and o f the w hole poetic stru c ture (E liot 1990, 24-30). H e m akes good use o f the F ren ch sym bolists legacy and inherits the regard they had for the m usical qu ality of poetry, w ithout falling into the tra p o f m aking his verse m usical at the expense o f m eaning. O n the con trary , E liot m akes m eaning w ith the m usic o f his verse.
T he m usicality o f poetry, an im p o rtan t aspect o f the sym bolists’ w ork, was m uch appreciated by Eliot. T he a u th o r o f The W aste L a nd learnt from his F rench predecessors, and created his own m usic o f w ords and images. H e applied one o f the m ain tenets o f sym bolism to m o d ern p oetry , showing the skill o f a m odern sym phonic com poser. T h e m usic o f E lio t’s poetry com prises the m elody o f the verse, b u t also the m usic o f w ords, im agery, m eaning and o f the entire poetic structure. M usic helped Eliot solve the problem o f finding a form for the long poem . But for the em phasis the F rench poets placed on m usicality, Eliot m ight no t have been able to exploit the m usical idiom w ith such m astery, giving im ages, w ords and phrases m usical trea tm e n t and providing them w ith a stru ctu ral fram ew ork resem bling th a t o f a m usical com position. M oreover, by m aking his poetry m usical E liot intensified in it the elem ent o f suggestiveness th a t was of crucial im p ortance to the sym bolists. T he F ren ch sym bolists tau g h t their A nglo-A m erican heir the a rt o f vagueness and indirectness, which surely m ade his ow n poetry herm etic and elitist enough to discourage the m ass reader, bu t at the sam e tim e co n trib u ted to the p ro fu n d ity and com plexity o f E lio t’s verse in a way th a t can h ard ly be equalled by any o th er tw entieth-century poet.
D epartm ent o f American Literature and Culture University o f Łódź
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