Laura Fosmire
March 1, 2011
ENG 362: Studies in Modern/Contemporary Literatures
Bill Johnsen
Essay I: T.S. Eliot’s “Gerontion”
T.S. Eliot has always been one of my favorite poets. Although I was first introduced to him through his silliest and most whimsical poetry (Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats), I quickly developed a deep respect for his ability to explore and elaborate on the darkest issues of human existence -- topics such as death, sexuality and conflict. His greatest example of this, certainly, is The Waste Land. However, I found in our anthology another poem that, for a period, Eliot was considering using a preface to The Waste Land -- Gerontion. Much like his widely-considered epic, Gerontion contemplates the same topics of war and religion from the perspective of an old man, reflecting both upon the horrors of war, its relationship with religion, and his own involvement in both.
The poem reads strongly as a reflection on World War I. The poem was published in 1920 -- only two years after the end of the war. This was clearly an influential event in Eliot's life, and his musings and contemplations on the war read clearly through his poem. It begins in the middle of the first stanza most clearly with the mentions of several locations that were significant in the war: Antwerp, the location of the siege in 1914, the fall of Brussels and the Zeppelin air raids on London. Eliot mentions all three locations in relation to “the jew” -- the perceived owner of his house, who “squats on the window sill.” Although World War II brought about the Holocaust and the infamous genocide of the Jewish people, the “jew hunt” and antisemitism had already begun and was in part triggered by the first World War. Eliot writes his “jew” as injured in part by all of these locational events -- born in Antwerp and thus born amid war, “blistered” by the battles in Brussels and ultimately “patched and peeled” by the air raids in London.
Eliot continues his war metaphors by the creation of fictional characters intended to personify countries involved. In line 23, there is a mention of a Mr. Silvero, followed by the names of other characters: Hakagawa, Madame de Tornquist and Fräulein von Kulp. Each name has an ethnic distinction that, to me, reads as very much intentional -- each of the countries 'represented' by these character names were major players in the first world war. Eliot personifies Italy with his Mr. Silvero, Japan with Hakagawa, and France and Germany with the Madame and Fräulein, respectively.
Also significant are the actions that Eliot’s nation-characters are doing. We have Mr. Silvero, “With caressing hands, at Limoges / Who walked all night in the next room;” Admittedly, things become cryptic and difficult to understand for me with much of this poem. Eliot was a complicated poet. Limoges is a city in France that is famous for its porcelain, which does shed some light on Silvero’s “caressing hands” (one must indeed handle porcelain with a caressing delicacy). Eliot appears to be suggesting some movement of Italy throughout the night, or a restlessness, although the exact ties of this to World War I remain unclear.
Regrettably, the other nation-characters and their actions do not grow any clearer. Hakagawa bows in a traditional Japanese greeting or otherwise respectful recognitions to the “Titians”. Titian was a famous Italian painter. My initial reading, however, mistook “Titian” for the more common “Titan” -- I assumed Mr. Hakagawa was bowing to Titans, powerful figures within Greek mythology. The mistake, I believe, is something Eliot anticipated and did intentionally to manipulate his reader. Hakagawa may be bowing in a room full of famous paintings -- but he might also be bowing to the shadows of a race of beings more powerful than himself. Madame de Tornquist, another fictional name with no apparent historical reference, is shifting candles in a dark room -- reminiscent, perhaps, of a gypsy about to prepare a seance or some other ritual. And finally is the young Fräulein von Kulp, who, turning in the hall with a hand on the door, appears to be just about to leave. Is Germany on the brink of leaving -- or perhaps fleeing -- at the end of the World War? Or as she turns her head and looks back, is Eliot predicting that Germany will think about staging another return? And as his nation-characters move about the house, our elderly narrator insists, “I have no ghosts, / An old man in a draughty house / Under a windy knob.” These nation-characters are not only fictional to us, the reader -- they are fictional even to the narrator, mere figments of his imagination, brought to life and personified within his musings and reflections upon World War I.
Eliot also employs a powerful religious metaphor that plays off the reflection on war and suggests at a relationship between the two. He begins by quoting the biblical account of Matthew, 12:38 -- “We would see a sign from thee”, or as Eliot quotes “We would see a sign!” Eliot is encouraging his reader to recognize that this is a direct quote, not merely an allusion. Quoting something as well-known as the Bible is not a mere grasping at symbolic straws. Eliot knows this is something his reader is likely to pick up on and does intentionally, to later play into the same religious overtones that permeate the rest of the poem.
Just a few short lines later comes this: "Came Christ the tiger / In depraved May, dogwood and chestnut, flowering judas, / To be eaten, to be divided, to be drunk / Among whispers;" Is Eliot saying that "Christ the tiger" is "to be eaten ... divided ... drunk" by these characters? The religious imagery is appropriate -- the body of Christ, as represented by bread and wine, is traditionally eaten and drunk in worship of Him. But what is Eliot saying -- Christ "the tiger" putting himself up as a sacrifice for consumption by these countries immersed in war? This reading suggests a religious fervor associated with war -- God sending his only son, a second time, to sacrifice himself for the salvation of humanity.
But why is Christ depicted as a tiger? In Eastern mythology, the tiger is frequently depicted as the king of beasts. In Christian mythology (in approaching religion from an objective standpoint, it is only fair to say that all religions are mythologies), Jesus Christ is called the king of kings. But in Western mythology, we traditionally know the lion as the king of beasts. Eliot's decision to depict Christ as a tiger, instead of a lion, is thus intentional and meant to represent something else, as well. Perhaps he was aware that, in imperial China, the tiger was a personification of war. Or perhaps it was Eliot's method of intentionally blending Western Christianity with Eastern mythology. In a way, Eliot was arguing for the truly global nature of war -- World War I was, indeed, a war that spread to all corners of the globe in some fashion or other.
Eliot returns later to his religious metaphor of the tiger. Later in the poem, the second to last stanza opens with the lines: “The tiger springs in the new year. Us he devours.” Where Christ had previously offered Himself up as sacrifice for the sins of the nations during the war, Eliot now realizes the bloody truth and consequence that war provides. Christ returns, now a full-blooded tiger, to devour in turn those who participated in the war and participated in the bloodshed. This dramatic turn of events among religion and its relationship to war carries over a single stanza. And no wonder: In that stanza, Eliot -- through his elderly narrator -- truly begins to dig deeply into the consequences of war. “Think / Neither fear nor courage saves us. Unnatural vices / Are fathered by our herosim. Virtues / Are forced upon us by our impudent crimes. / These tears are shaken from the wrath-bearing tree.” Such key words as “heroisim”, “fear” and “courage” are certainly applicable to war. And these musings on the creation of sin out of good intentions, the “unnatural vices” of killing the enemy, “fathered by our heroism” and desire to serve our country, speak as if fresh off the tongue of a jaded and shaken war veteran.
Overall, Gerontion is a difficult poem to grapple with. Upon the first few readings, very little can be established and the overall meaning nearly impossible to find. This is not unusual of how Eliot works. But given the time and patience, the reader can recognize certain patterns within Eliot’s poetry. Names are significant. Places are significant. Quotes and things that look just a little too well put together are significant. All of these clues can help the reader determine Eliot’s underlying message -- which, as it continues to slowly unravel before the reader’s eyes, becomes only deeper and more complex. Eliot carries an incredible ability to express a world of meaning in just a few short stanzas. Unfortunately, he does so with complex layers of symbolism and vague, misty allusions over which he leaves the reader to puzzle. By placing the poem in historical context and paying close attention specific names and places, I was able to come to the conclusion that Eliot had written a dark reflection upon the brutality of World War I, as expressed by his elderly narrator who had most likely lived through the terrifying ordeal.