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American Literature
"In The Waste Land," says Magny, "we are in the bleak even
time before the Incarnation, before the unique, exceptional event
took place, that which, moreover the cards are unable to predict,
because it is outside Time."2 This I would contest. The theological
objection is that we are not in the bleak, even time before the In-
carnation-and neither, in a sense, were the Hebrew prophets, whose
influence is, I think, paramount in Eliot's poem. Certainly the
cards could not predict the event, but the prophets could and did
predict it as part of the total action of God in history which they
proclaimed. Furthermore, the Incarnation is not only "outside
Time," but also inside Time and "in the fullness of Time." Therein
lies the paradox of the event. To conduct the argument at the level
of literary allusion, when Eliot talks of the Rock, we are reminded
of the Rock of Israel, the God of the prophets. When he speaks of
the Hanged Man, we are reminded of Christ. If ever these names
had validity and meaning in the past, they have validity and mean-
'Claude E. Magny, "A Double Note on T. S. Eliot and James Joyce," trans. Sonia
Brownell, in T. S. Eliot: Symposium, comp. Richard March and Tambimuttu (Chicago,
1949), pp. 213, 215-
'Magny, p. 214.
ing now and always, and their meaning becomes part of the poem.
To assume that such allusions are ironic because Adonis and Osiris
figure in the same poem may well be as erroneous in Eliot's case
as in the case of Milton or the prophet Jeremiah, who also utilized
the myth and language of the fertility cults-in honor to the God
of Israel.
The Yahwehist prophets harnessed the attributes of the fertility
gods to the God of history: it was Yahweh who made the seasons
and sent the rain and the drought. But Yahweh's purpose and per-
sonality are primarily to be seen in the dialectic of history; events
in time provide the clue to reality, meaning, and identity. With
respect to Mr. Magny, I suggest that this Judeo-Christian perspec-
tive in Time prevails also in Eliot's poem. The people in his
wasteland suffer drought and winter as in the wasteland of the
fertility cults, but the extent of their despair is that, having lost
sight of the purpose behind their history, they have lost identity and
the basis for hope. Their history lies in fragments around them-
Athens, Rome, Phoenicia, Mylae, and the London of Elizabeth.
They can connect nothing with nothing. But if only they could
reconstruct the pattern where all these fragments fit, Time and
Life and Death would no longer appall.
One puts Eliot and Jeremiah side by side to read of two waste-
lands, or perhaps they are the same: Europe in the twentieth cen-
tury and Judah in the seventh century B.C. There is the same
degeneration, described in terms of drought and the failure of
vegetation and other vicissitudes of nature. Both speak of agony
and alienation, of political instability and the deterioration of
morality. There is the same authentic note of doom. Both speak
of the yearning of their age to be united to its proper good, but
the prophet affirms a deliverance that will come, and Eliot-so it
is said-knows that deliverance has not come and will not come.
The prophet proclaims that this time when God appears absent is
in fact the time when he is actively exercising his judgment, win-
nowing, purging, and burning, in order to reclaim his people at
last and restore his Creation. Can we assume that the desolation and
destruction in Eliot's wasteland are unconnected with judgment?
And would not the process of judgment ultimately imply a vindi-
cation of the purpose behind Creation?
I propose to treat Eliot's poem as a reworking of the themes of
II
Not only have the rains been withheld, but the wells and fountains
are poisoned. How can this be, when the Lord God of Israel is
the fountain of living water, the author of rain and dew and fruit-
fulness? The fountain does not run dry, but the people,
they have forsaken me,
the fountain of living waters,
and hewed out cisterns for themselves,
broken cisterns,
that can hold no water. (Jer. 2:I3)
'The biblical text used throughout is that of the Revised Standard Version.
Side by side with the image of the wasteland run the images of
the vine and of the unfaithful wife:
Yet God, the loving husband, persistently calls back the wife who
has forfeited her right to his house.
One can use these three images to phrase in three different ways
the prophet's assertion about Israel's relationship to God:
At first God married Israel, a loving wife; in her perversity she
became a harlot and adulteress. Therefore, God will divorce her,
and after her chastening she shall be restored by God as his bride.4
At first God planted Israel a choice vine; in her perversity she
grew to be a wild vine. Therefore, God will rip her out, and after
her chastening she shall again be planted a choice vine.5
At first God made Israel a fruitful and well-watered land; m
I See also Jer. 12:7, 13:26, 31:4.
5See also Jer. 8:13, 12:10, 31:5.
III
The allusions are at once apparent. What indeed is the root that
clutches and the branch that grows from stony rubbish but the
Servant of God described by Deutero-Isaiah:
For he grew up before him like a young plant,
and like a root out of dry ground.... (Is. 53:2)
And what is he but the Righteous Branch (Jer. 23:5) which would
be raised up out of David? Or he might be designated as "Son of
man," a title which belongs, in one sense, to any man. It was used
by Ezekiel for his own designation as God's prophet and by the
author of the Book of Daniel as the name of the divine hero of
the apocalypse, and Christ then took it as his own peculiar title.
Jer. 22:28-30.
"Jer. 17:25, 23:5, 33:15.
Yet what rock will hide men in safety, unless the Lord himself,
who is "a shelter from the storm and a shade from the heat" (Is.
25:4); "an everlasting rock" (Is. 26:4); "the Rock of your refuge"
(Is. 17:IO). If the passage in Eliot's poem appears on the face of
it more ominous than reassuring, there is the same ambivalent tone
in the prophetic sources. In Jeremiah, God is enemy as well as
saviour. So here in Isaiah: he is a"rock of stumbling" as well as the
rock of refuge. The "LoRD of hosts .. . let him be your dread. And he
will become a sanctuary, and a stone of offence, and a rock of stum-
bling to both houses of Israel, a trap and a snare to the inhabitants
of Jerusalem" (Is. 8:13-I4). The ambivalence in the prophet's atti-
tude comes from his knowledge that God alone controls the destiny
of Israel: it is he who condemns and he who delivers from con-
demnation. If the people would only recognize the author of their
misfortune, they would find at the same time their source of confi-
dence and rescue. May it not be that this applies in Eliot's waste-
land also ?
One is led at this point to identify the "something different from
either / Your shadow at morning striding behind you / Or your
shadow at evening rising to meet you" (that is, to take a hint from
the cadence that suggests Eccles. I2, "something to alter one's per-
spective from one's sense of self-sufficiency in youth, and one's sense
of futility in old age"). The "something different" must surely be
the fear of the Lord on the part of man, the reverence for the
Creator on the part of the creature whom he has made from a
"handful of dust." ("I will show you something different,... I
will show you fear in a handful of dust.") The placing of this
phrase, "handful of dust," in the passage from the poem puts it
in line with "stony rubbish," "a heap of broken images," and "dry
stone." These in turn recall the phrases used by the prophets to
describe the arid spiritual soil of God's people Israel, given over to
exploitation and idolatry: "the heap of ruins of your idols," "wilder-
The river does not often appear in the prophetic literature con-
cerned with the fate of the City of David, but Ezekiel, envisioning
the restoration of Israel and the holiness of the people reclaimed by
God, has the new city built around the temple; the River of Life,
issuing from below the threshold of the temple, flows from Jeru-
salem toward the east.
And wherever the river goes every living creature which swarms will
live, and there will be very many fish.... And on the banks, on both sides
Does not Eliot describe the same city standing under the same con-
demnation, since "the river's tent is broken"? Its inhabitants, too,
seem to have departed, and the last possibility of love has fled. Have
they all gone into exile where they sit by the waters of Babylon
and weep for their lovelessness and their separation from the thing
they would have loved?
my children have gone from me....
For the shepherds [i.e., kings] are stupid,
and do not inquire of the LoRD;
therefore they have not prospered,
and all their flock is scattered. (Jer. I0:20-2I)
Later still, in "What the Thunder Said," we have the city's vio-
lent destruction before the "hooded hordes swarming," or, as it
might be, Jeremiah's "nation from the north."
"' Grover Smith, Jr. in T. S. Eliot's Poetry and Plays (Chicago, 1956), p. 90, has
noted that the symbolism of fire Eliot owes not only to Buddha and St. Augustine, but
also to the Hebrew prophets. He cites Amos:
"I overthrew some of you,
as when God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah,
and you were as a brand plucked out of the burning;
yet you did not return to me,"
says the LORD. (Amos 4:11)
The passage in Amos is only one of very many prophetic oracles that proclaim the burning
of the city as a chastisement of Israel for her waywardness. See, for example, in Jeremiah
4:4, I5:I4, 17:4, 17:27, 21:10, 21:12, 21:14, 32:29, 34:2, 34:22, 37:8, 38:23.
Mr. Smith, somewhat misleadingly, places his citation in a discussion of asceticism,
whereas there is no such connotation in the words of the prophet; but one is apt to mis-
read the biblical allusions if one regards the poem as primarily a reworking of the myth
of the fertility cults.
though the Lord of hosts will reign at that time in his glory.
And bats with baby faces in the violet light
Whistled, and beat their wings...
And upside down in air were towers
Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours
And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted
wells....
valley of the dead bodies and the ashes ... shall be sacred to the
Lord" (Jer. 31:40). The hint in Jeremiah about the sacred valley
of the dead bodies is expanded in a passage of Ezekiel:
[He] set me down in the midst of the valley; it was full of bones....
and lo, they were very dry. And he said to me, "Son of man, can these
bones live? ... Prophesy to these bones....Thus says the LoRD GOD to
these bones: Behold, I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall
live...." (Ezek. 37:1-5)
Iv
After the land and the city there remain for consideration the
personae of the poem, the same three whom we encounter again
and again in various roles and disguises: the Woman, the Fisher-
King, and the Deliverer. Here is the Woman first as a German
aristocrat ("I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter");
as Madam Sosostris, famous clairvoyante, "known to be the wisest
woman in Europe, / With a wicked pack of cards," known, in short,
for one of the false prophets and diviners who were the abomina-
tion of Jeremiah's Jerusalem. ("For thus says the Lord of hosts....
Do not let your prophets and your diviners who are among you
deceive you," Jer. 29:8; cf. 27:9). Eliot plays the trick on her that
the Hebraic author played on Balaam, making her speak more
wisely than she knows: "Fear death by water" and "I do not find
the Hanged Man." Later on the Woman is a Cleopatra manquc,
the voluptuousness of that queen become metallic, her liveliness de-
generated to neurosis:
The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Glowed on the marble, where the glass
Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines
From which a golden Cupidon peeped out....
In the Lord's vineyard, which was Israel, there was no fruitful vine
left, nor is there a fruitful vine in this modern wasteland unless
artificially wrought; no love is left, and its place is ironically sup-
plied by a golden cupidon. Jeremiah's image of the harlot is not
far away:
Alas, she is too elegant and well-brought up for that, whereas the
Thames maiden copulates habitually and wearily by the river where
Elizabeth and Leicester once beat oars. There is the typist who
surrenders perfunctorily to perfunctory embraces. Like the harlot
Israel, but in her own way, she has found lovers who are her ene-
mies and despise her (Jer. 4:30, 12:7).
This passage recalls not only the vicissitudes of kings and princes
in The Tempest but the prophecies of Jeremiah against the profit-
less dynasty of Israel. Because those prophecies in turn recall the
Messianic prophecies of the Righteous Branch of David, we are
justified in seeing an element of hope in the last words that we have
from the Fisher-King. Whereas previously he had had no expecta-
tions, and his people were humble people who expected nothing,
now:
Shall I at least set my lands in order? ...
These fragments I have shored against my ruins....
His promise, too, appears to have come to nothing. The one who
might have delivered us from death is himself dead, and we die
with him-for two wretched days.
Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
If there were only water amongst the rock
Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit
There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain
But toiling in the place of torment we have the illusion (is it?) that
there is another walking beside us. We are three children in the
fire, and there is someone else, a fourth. ("Did we not cast three
men bound into the fire? ... I see four men loose, walking in the
midst of the fire, and they are not hurt; and the appearance of the
fourth is like a son of the gods," Dan. 3:24-25.) Or we are two
disciples walking to Emmaus, bereft of all hope because Jesus is
crucified, and yet perplexed by the rumor of the empty tomb-
when Jesus himself draws near and walks with us, "gliding wrapt
in a brown mantle, hooded," because as yet our eyes are kept from
recognizing him.
Nor will we recognize him until we have understood the mean-
ing of it all: that the fire and drought signified all the time not
God's absence but his active judgment; that they were to destroy
but also to refine and purify (foco che gli affina); that Death was
not the end but the prelude to Resurrection. In the Gospel of
Luke it is this same Journey to Emmaus where the meaning of
man's distress and the action of God's providence finally become
clear to the disciples who have walked with Jesus.
"O foolish men, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have
spoken! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things
and enter into his glory?" And beginning with Moses and all the
prophets, he interpreted to them in all the scriptures the things concerning
himself. (Luke 24:25-27)
Only so can the writers of the New Testament describe the de-
liverance that God had wrought in Christ-it was the same deliver-
ance of which "all the prophets" had spoken. The Crucifixion was
the strange means by which the people living in spiritual desolation
had been reunited with the source of life. Conscious of the fact
that they stand in a long cultural and literary tradition, the New
Testament writers rework the material of the old prophecies until
they have built up an elaborate structure of quotation and allusion.
Eliot, standing in the same tradition some centuries later, builds
his poem in similar fashion, appealing to the record of the Old
Testament and the New. After his recasting of the Crucifixion
scene and his reference to the Journey to Emmaus have been given
full weight, one can hardly doubt that his meaning is substantially
the same. Like the writers of the Old Testament and the New, he
is insisting that God is our Deliverer. It is the same wasteland and
drought, the same fire and thunder (dry sterile thunder as it seemed
in those first two harrowing days, but thunder that actually brought
the rain long awaited), the same "day of the great slaughter, when
the towers fall" and the reconciliation is effected between God and
man.
If more evidence were needed, one could follow up the refer-
ences at the end of the poem. Consider this description by Isaiah of
Israel's present unseaworthiness:
Your tackle hangs loose;
it cannot hold the mast firm in its place,
or keep the sail spread out. (Is. 33:23)
and the promise held out by Jeremiah for the latter days:
I will give them a heart to know that I am the Lo"u; and they shall be
my people and I will be their God, for they shall return to me with their
whole heart. (Jer. 24:7)
The "day" in question is the Day of the Lord, the Yom Yahweh,
the day of judgment and vindication, of calamity and glory. It is
Eliot's long winter's day, through morning, noon, and evening,
when the rain finally falls upon the parched land.