This part of the final stanza, line 427, brings us back to the reference to London Bridge in I. Burial of the Dead. However, while this line describes the destruction of the bridge, playfully alluding to the childhood rhyme and song. Line 61, an allusion back to Dante’s Inferno, reads, “A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, I had not thought death had undone so many.” Considering that this second line about the London Bridge comes chronologically later, Eliot creates a history of the Bridge, which relates to his pessimistic view of human nature and future. While once, the London Bridge was a symbol of human growth and innovation, now, it has fallen, either due to parts of WW1 or our own self-destruction. In the larger context of TWL, this line seems to tie it down to a negative ending, or at least incompleteness of the story, since London Bridge falls, along with the Fisher King’s “arid plain” that he still attempts to fish in.

Separately, I also find it interesting that the Fisher King relates back to Buddhism and Hinduism, kind of tying the ends as well. Eliot, having studied both religions, understands the Fish allusions as multicultural, which leave it open to interpretation by the reader depending on their own knowledge.

Ganga, a Hindu goddess for which the Ganges River is named after, opens this stanza, preceding the descriptions of “'Datta, dayadhvam, damyata' (Give, sympathise, control), which are similarly borrowed from a Principal Upanishad of Hinduism, in Brihadaranyaka–Upanishad. This reference to the Ganges is another addition to the long line of water sources mentioned in TWL, such as the Thames or the Mediterranean seas. Here, however, the water is paired with other personified parts of nature, including the Himavant for the Himalaya Mountains. Other non-named objects include waiting leaves, a “jungle crouched and humped,” and a thunder that speaks. Prior to this passage, Eliot’s descriptions of nature have mainly stayed out of personification, such as lines 345-360 which describe nature as it is. Thus, I view the personification in this passage as a reflection of Eliot’s study of Sanskrit/Indian philosophy, which breathes more life into things in nature.

This stanza focuses on this undefined third person trailing a pair of two, a reference to the hallucinations that an Antarctic expedition experienced. On that expedition, as detailed by Sir Ernest Henry Shackelton, members of the team, affected by the harsh weather conditions of the tundra, mistakenly believed there was an extra person on the team. In TWL, however, this extra person is not described as one with the piar, but instead with a sense of malice and mystery, described as “Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded, I do not know whether a man or a woman.” This reminded me of the descriptions of vampires in Stoker’s Dracula, as the gliding motion of the third individual resembles the supernatural smoothness and speed that vampires possess. Furthermore, the pair described by this stanza is Eliot and the reader, “you” and “I.” This is a bit haunting, especially with the final line being “But who is that on the other side of you?” Eliot toys with the reader, making them question their own surroundings, even by these small few lines.

This line reminds me of an earlier line in TWL, which was 308, when Eliot references the Buddha’s Fire Sermon, and writes “burning burning burning burning.” Physically, the two lines have similar repetition styles. In terms of their place in the poem, however, the significance that I see is the differing natural phenomena of fire and water. The Fire Sermon seeks to explain what the sensation of enlightenment and inner peace can feel, after letting go of all physical sensations. The water heater is dripping as part of the “water-dripping song” from Turdus aonalaschkae pallasii, which is a hermit-thrush in Quebec. This reference is a little practical for Eliot, considering his past attachment to works of literary or anthropological significance. In the footnote, Eliot quotes Chapman’s writing that “Its notes are not remarkable for variety or volume, but in purity and sweetness of tone and exquisite modulation they are unequaled.” The sheer language of this quote brings me back to Buddhism, for the specific words of purity, sweetness, tone, and modulation all construct a very peaceful and zen atmosphere. In this way, fire and water somehow connect, with both of them bringing humans inner peace.

Following the earlier prediction and warning from Madame Sosostris for the reader to “fear death by water” (56), part IV of TWL is actually titled “Death by Water,” and details the death of a man named Phlebas. The death itself is reflective of the tarot card’s meaning of rebirth and cyclical time, and the connection between humanity and Nature as a greater power. As Phlebas dies in the water, Eliot writes that “As he rose and fell He passed the stages of his age and youth Entering the whirlpool.” (320) This quote itself has a physical cyclicality with the tides and waves of the water, but also mentions stages of time that Phlebas has explained. However, the conversation between Eliot and the reader continues, as Phlebas is supposed to be a mirror image of the reader: “Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.” (321) Eliot here asserts his belief that humankind are all destined to the same life and death, under the domain of Nature or God, a higher power. On top of this, Pound’s insistence for Phlebas to be included in the final version of TWL strikes as significant, as part IV is far shorter than the others, but perhaps due to its simplicity and focus on one single story, hits the reader harder. To me, this is the most concise part of TWL, and also the most nostalgic or spiritual.

In a footnote to the ending of this TWL section, Eliot says that “The collocation of these two representatives of eastern and western asceticism, as the culmination of this part of the poem, is not an accident.” Seems a little weird that Eliot himself is spelling out exactly what he’s doing, considering the type of purposefully vague explanations he’s previously given, such as the first footnote that is purposefully confusing. However, I do appreciate his embracing of Asian tradition, considering his past attachment to mostly Ancient Greek and French/English stories. Specifically, he is looking at the Buddha’s “The Fire Sermon,” which he parallels with the “Sermon on the Mount” from the Bible. Strangely enough, throughout “The Fire Sermon” the word “burning” itself is not shown, at least in the excerpt that we read. This is in contrast with TWL, where Eliot writes “burning burning burning burning” and later, as the final line 311, just “burning.” I suppose that Eliot’s trying to contextualize the physical pain and passion of detachment of the five senses, which Buddha explains are liberation.

Compared with everything before this stanza, Eliot is most explicitly referring to London in these few lines. He refers back to Baudelaire with the phrase “Unreal City,” but instead of “Under the brown fog of a winter dawn” it becomes “Under the brown fog of a winter noon.” I think that this small change also shifts the main focus of the stanza, as while the first stanza is influenced by the natural surroundings of London and the Thames, this second stanza is much more focused on the human construction of London, mentioning the Cannon Street Hotel and the Metropole. Perhaps Eliot believes that dawn is the time for human reflection within nature, and noon is the busy rush hour for working class London. Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant, is described as “Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants.” Eliot’s footnote explains that currants are like tickets (?) for freight and cargo to London, and Mr. Eugenides, who sells them, is a connection back to Madame Sosostris. He is the one-eyed merchant, and as the earlier description around line 50 reminds us, his card is that of burdens “carried on his back,” so it seems that Mr. Eugenides is confined to his job, like Prometheus and Tityus?

Paul Verlaine’s “Parsifal” is another extension of Eliot’s references to Grail legends, and after reading Isabel’s annotation from last year, I agree that the main issue at hand here is the idea of innocence. As Isabel says, Parsifal is able to retrieve a Holy object because of his innocence, but the natural inclination towards intimacy poses difficulty, in the face of young maidens posing as seductresses. This connects back to earlier in II. The Game of Chess, in which many women including Cleopatra and Dido, are known for their physical beauty, which entrances men and gives them more power. Isabel also connects these enticing women from II with the nymphs at the start of III. The Fire Sermon. With that, she poses the question “we need to question their presence by the Thames--are they seductresses? Prostitutes?” These nymphs by the Thames are contextualized by rapid industrialism and WWI aftermath in London, so I answer to Isabel: neither. Eliot repeats the phrase, “The nymphs are departed,” twice, once after describing the loss of nature, and second after the loss of human markings within the Thames. I think this gets at Eliot’s idea of humanity existing as less than the world, some form of determinism, and that our impact on the world is truly, not that much. Nymphs are beings of natural power in our world, and their departure marks the loss of this natural world as it was created. This eventually connects with the line from Verlaine, “O those children’s voices singing in the dome!” These children are singing in joy at Parsifal’s usage of the Holy object that brings back good into the world, so I think that Eliot is examining the cyclical repeated departure and arrival of the natural world, as forced by humans.

The title of this section of TWL, “The Game of Chess” is from Thomas Middleton's 1624 satirical play “A Game at Chess.” The title of the section is featured in line 137, as Eliot writes that an undefined “we” “shall play a game of chess.” Middleton uses chess as more than the superficial notion of statecraft, but also of assault and intimacy. This connects to Eliot’s previous references to sexual assault, in Baudelaire’s Fleurs du Mal with a prostitute, Ovid’s Philomena in the Aenid, and the depiction of a dead woman in the earlier section of TWL. This continues throughout lines 140-150, where Eliot seems to paint a picture of domestic abuse or at least marriage issues, with Lil, who is asked, “What do you get married for if you don’t want children?” In the historical annotations, Rahul focuses on the story of Dido's sacrifice by Jupiter and Venus, and how this parallels chess. Rahul wrote, "[Dido's sacrifice] bears a striking resemblance to chess, which places extreme emphasis on the strategy of sacrificing and abandoning pieces to reach an end goal." I agree with this interpretation, which makes Dido one of the chess pieces on the board.

Overall, by tracing this story of women, it becomes more apparent that Eliot is trying to tie together these different stories of abuse and mistreatment of women in one narrative, possibly equating living as a woman to playing a game of chess. It seems like an uphill battle, though, against societal norms that are skewed against them either speaking out or creating change. The only ways they’re able to challenge the standard are through committing evil, like Philomena, or through men, (Cleopatra?)

There is also a very specific parallel between TWL, Les Fleurs du Mal, and Antony and Cleopatra in the specific mention of perfume as a characteristic of womanhood but also a window into an individual’s personality. In TWL, the unnamed woman has “strange synthetic perfumes,” which further deepens the reader’s curiosity about her background, which is also tainted with a negative perception due to the following line of “troubled, confused, And drowned the sense in odours.” Shakespeare’s characterization of Cleopatra’s vast power and wealth is closer to our mundane perception of perfume, that “Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them.” This seems to be a confirmation of Cleopatra’s continued femininity even within her grat military and political power, as perfume signifies some want of romantic attraction. Baudelaire’s martyred woman has a much more deadly perfume, as “In the midst of perfume flasks … That trail in sumptuous folds, In a warm room where, as in a hothouse, The air is dangerous, fatal.” Similar to Eliot, Baudelaire uses what normally is characterized as positive femininity to describe a viper-like poison, in which this woman’s femininity through perfume is actually a lethal weapon. These three writers all approach the sense of smell in different ways to highlight specific characteristics of individuals in pretty subtle ways.

Within the sources that Eliot references from line 77-100, the opening of the second section “A Game of Chess,” there is a continuous theme of ostentatious wealth and royalty that majorly differs from the previous grim depictions of urban London. Drawing on the stories of Cleopatra, queen of Egypt, Baudelaire’s “A Martyred Woman,” and Dido, queen of Carthage in the Aeneid. These three prominent women share extreme physical beauty and also material wealth, which Eliot consolidates into this mysterious depiction of some unknown woman. The first line, “The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,” is drawn from Shakespeare’s description of the Egyptian queen, and in the context of the section being labeled “A Game of Chess,” sort of puts Cleopatra as equal to the queen on a chessboard. While the King is arguably most important as his capture equals loss, the queen in chess is able to move the most freely and is the most capable, which Eliot references by painting the picture of a mysterious woman on a throne, described to be of marble and glass (both possibly used to make elaborate chess sets). Thus, Eliot’s opening few lines of the section delve into the question of who holds power in society, both material and political, and if it goes hand in hand with feminine beauty.

Here Eliot references Baudelaire, a French poet, who explored themes of human living in industrialized Paris, similar to Eliot's London. However, in comparison with Eliot's grim title of The Waste Land, Baudelaire sets up a paradox within the title of his work, Les Fleures du Mal, or the Flowers of Evil. Florals and vegetation are normally connected to vitality and beauty, and Baudelaire’s characterization of evil in flowers goes against this positive outlook, but also shows his grim belief in evil human nature, which is somewhat shared by Eliot. This is most clearly seen in Eliot’s borrowing of Baudelaire’s preface, “—Hypocrite lecteur,—mon semblable,— mon frère!” This preface accuses the reader of being a hypocrite, but also admits that Baudelaire himself is a hypocrite as well, and that the reader and Baudelaire have a type of brotherhood. Of course, in post-French Revolution France the idea of brotherhood has more political implications, as seen by the phrase “Liberté, égalité, fraternité!” However, what is important is that Baudelaire is asserting that all of mankind are equally flawed in nature, and that we all are hypocrites and guilty.

To this, Eliot seems to agree, by taking the quote whole. Eliot also references this type of evil human nature through his quoting of both Dante’s Inferno and The Tempest. The Tempest is a story of human cunning and bloody revenge, and a description of humans governed by pursuit of power. Inferno depicts a version of Hell, and the final line of the Baudelaire excerpt, “And my soul tossed, and tossed, an outworn wreck, Mastless, upon a monstrous, shoreless sea,” mirrors Eliot’s Dante reference. Eliot’s multiple references all circle back on each other, to overcome the initial impression of an overwhelming number of sources. Truly, these references pull together Eliot’s cohesive perspective on humanity, which, seen through these few sources, appears to be very negative. This is best summed up by Gerad de Nerval’s phrase, “Oh mortal sorrow!” Perhaps to all these aforementioned authors, to be human is to feel the obligatory negative emotions of life, that simply make humanity what it is. Eliot’s description of The Waste Land is thus his reflection on his mortal life so far, and that of others that he has viewed in London.

Madame Sosostris in TWL is named after Sesostris, the Sorceress of Ecbatana, in Aldous Huxley's novel Chrome Yellow. Similar to TWL, Huxley's satirical construction of the novel seeks to capture the essence of the time period, the early 20th century after WW1. This is similar to TWL in terms of the 1921 vs 1922 publish date, and that both Huxley and Eliot were seriously influenced by the destruction in Europe. by drawing an ensemble of seemingly random characters together and having them interact throughout the novel. This is a little resemblant of cinema, with ensemble cast movies, where the story jumps from character to character. This rhythm is also seen in TWL, in which Eliot hops from one allusion to the next, one character to the next. This syncopation also does connect to jazz, as we previously examined in class.

In addition, Huxley’s Sesostris also connects to the Ecclesiastes and Sybil, previously referenced by Eliot. Ecclesiastes explains predetermination of the world by God, and Sesostris is similarly only able to explain her predictions of the world, but cannot change the events. When Sesostris is consulted by the young girl in the white muslin, she says, “This is what the fates have written.” If anything, Sesostris and the Sybil of Cumae are certainly meant to be supernatural in their sight in the future, but are still trapped as mortals in the greater structure of the world, under God or another higher power. In TWL, this would illustrate Eliot’s depiction of the world as humans being subservient to nature, and no matter what, unable to break the hierarchy. In this sense, Eliot himself is arguing the case for religion and specifically God as the creator.

This line is footnoted to Ecclesiastes 12 from the Old Testament, of which this excerpt I find most important: "Also when they shall be afraid of that which is high, and fears shall be in the way, and the almond tree shall flourish, and the grasshopper shall be a burden, and desire shall fail." The direct connections between these quotes include the parallel imagery of a dead tree giving no shelter the almond tree flourishing, the cricket with no relief, and the grasshopper being a burden. Both of these parallels are found in the natural world and focus on painting an image in the reader's mind but also demonstrating larger truths to the world. They remind me of some Ancient Chinese philosophy that I read prep year and in my own time, especially that of Zhuangzi who writes on the happiness of fish. The larger truth that I think Eliot has picked out of Ecclesiastes is meaning in human life is predetermined by higher power, and we must be grateful for the life that is laid out in front of us. Later in Ecclesiastes 12, it is written that "Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man." By borrowing from the same chapter of the book, Eliot perhaps agrees with this idea, and The Waste Land thus looks at the world through this lens of predetermined life. Man is a part of the created world, and we must act within our given limitations.

After reading the original epigraph of TWL, I think that Eliot's Waste Land is concerned with the state of human beings and death. (this is adding on to the physical destruction of WW1 on Europe) Specifically, he looks at the involvement of mental illness and death. In Heart of Darkness, while Hurtz is right at the edge of death, Marlow asks, “Did he live his life again in every detail of desire, temptation, and surrender during that supreme moment of complete knowledge?" Hurtz does die from ill health, but Marlow is questioning the circumstances under which Hurtz lived, in terms of his mental guarding of secrets. In contrast, no actual death is involved in the actual epigraph of the Sybil of Cumae, but the Sybil says that "I want to die." This is mainly due to her curse of eternal life without eternal youth, but possibly explains that the beauty of human life is its death, or at least end. The connection between the two is the idea of death being the final conclusion to human life, and a possible avenue to finding peace from the past life. 

One thought I have that might be a bit of a stretch is Eliot seeing himself in the Sybil of Cumae. Like we spoke about last class, Eliot is one of the sole people who can, through writing TWL, connect this many works of literature and culture from various societies over the span of history. While the reader gets to see these connections that Eliot lays out in TWL, perhaps Eliot feels that he is the only person with the full view of the world through these connections, kind of like the Sybil who sees further into history and the future than anyone else. Both Eliot and the Sybil would be unable to fully share their vast knowledge, and thus feel trapped by the curse of wisdom. 

Also - Eliot compliments Ezra Pound, an Imagist poet and his friend/editor, with "il miglior fabbrio." I looked it up, and apparently, Pound was the person who actually convinced Eliot to switch the epigraph from that of Conrad to Ovid. Possibly significant.  

Considering that my MacLeish project focused on themes of politics and philosophy in culture that directly influenced British and American authors, I think it's reasonable that Eliot, too, was a creation of the society that shaped him. He himself writes in this note that "The Golden Bough influenced [his] generation profoundly," and I believe that The Waste Land as a title is a description of the bleak society he sees around him. While he is influenced by the physical realities of Europe post WW1, I think that Eliot is digging deeper into the metaphysical perception of human life. At the heart of our perception of society, he argues, is culture, which is composed of both religion and science. Clearly, culture is conflicting between societies and also ever-changing, which is why Eliot brings in so many allusions to figments of cultures that collectively paint the picture of society as The Waste Land. I believe what the culmination of these clashing allusions may suggest is that Eliot understands mankind's adaptation of pseudoscience in religion and myth to explain the world, but believes they all paint an overly harmonious picture. In truth, the world is The Waste Land, but fallen ideas from past history.

As an example - the idea of an immortality elixir or Holy Grail are found in all areas of society - these are sometimes dismissed as a figment of alchemy or religion, but at their heart show the human yearn for some sort of enlightenment or final goal to life. Le Morte D’Arthur is just one example of this journey, and although Galahad does find the Grail and get his happy ending, the title The Waste Land suggests that this success is not as happy as it seems. In From Ritual to Romance, the idea of TWL is directly referenced as "land becomes Waste" or "left the land Waste." Failure and the creation of a Waste Land are built into the myth of the Grail, and Eliot may believe that the failure that creates all disaster is inevitable.

Plus, wow that science, centuries later, has largely dismissed the possibility of any of these magical solutions, Eliot is referencing this impossibility as what causes pessimism and bleakness in society. What used to be a beacon of human hope and enlightenment is now dismissed as fiction, and Eliot reads into the loss of old ideals. This is similar to the religions and myths referenced in The Golden Bough.