Saturday, August 8, 2015

Songs Beyond The Isle Of Dogs





T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land (TWL), lines 266-295 






          The river sweats

                    Eliot’s note: “The Song of the (three) Thames-daughters begins here. From line
                    292 to 306 inclusive they speak in turn.  V. Götterdammerung, III. I: the 
                    Rhine-daughters.”

                    THE RIVER THAMES is central to this section of the poem, but see also TWL
                    173-184.  For London Bridge, see TWL 62 and 427.  For other river allusions, see 
                    TWL 4 (the Lethe), 25 (Isaiah’s river), 41 (the Congo), 77 (the Cydnus), 172 
                    (Ophelia’s river), 266 (the Rhine), 293 (the Arno) and 396 (the Ganges).

                    Eliot's Thames-daughters follow the nymphs of Edmund Spenser, Prothalamion
                    (1596) (and see also TWL 176, 183 and 184):

                    Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song...

                    There, in a meadow, by the river's side,
                    A flock of nymphs I chanced to espy,
                    All lovely daughters of the flood thereby....

                    The Thames-daughters’ song, however, is more directly derived from that of the
                    Rhinemaidens in Richard Wagner, Götterdammerung (The Twilight of the 
                    Gods, 1876, tr. Frederick Jameson, ca. 1916). The chorus lines "Weialala leia, 
                    Wallala leialala" (TWL 277-278) and the more terse “la la”(TWL 306) are Wagner’s 
                    own, and Eliot also uses gold forging (lines 282-284) and assimilates Wagner’s 
                    clipped pace and spritely tone (TWL 266-289) to contrast the song’s grimmer 
                    content.  In the opera, the nymphs take turns singing one line at a time, with some
                    of the same curse and restoration motifs of the Grail legend.  See Twilight 
                    3.1.81-92

                    From the Rhine's pure gold
                    was the ring once wrought.
                    He who craftily shaped it
                    and lost it in shame
                    laid a curse thereon
                    for time to come to doometh
                    its lord surely to death

                    ...if thou the ring wilt not yield
                    to rest for aye in the waters
                    this stream alone stayeth the curse!

          Oil and tar
          The barges drift
          With the turning tide
          Red sails
          Wide
          To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.

                    See Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness, 1 (1902)

                    The sea-reach of the Thames stretched before us like the beginning of an
                    interminable waterway. In the offing the sea and the sky were welded together
                    without a joint, and in the luminous space the tanned sails of the barges drifting
                    up with the tide seemed to stand still in red clusters of canvas sharply peaked, 
                    with gleams of varnished sprits.

          The barges wash
          Drifting logs
          Down Greenwich reach
          Past the Isle of Dogs.

                    Greenwich Reach is a straight section of the Thames south and east of the Isle of 
                    Dogs, at London’s East End just north of Greenwich. The Isle of Dogs, once an 
                    island, is now a peninsula at one of the larger meanders in the Thames River. The 
                    royal dogs of King Henry VIII, and later Queen Elizabeth I, were said to be kenneled 
                    here, although there is no record of the name being used prior to 1588, when it first 
                    appeared on a map. It is, in any case, just across the river from the erstwhile 
                    grounds of the Palace of Placentia, the royal residence where Elizabeth was born
                    in 1533 and where her Privy Council later met.  In 1597, Ben Jonson and Thomas 
                    Nashe wrote a satirical play called The Isle of Dogs, which allegedly offended the 
                    queen and crossed lines of propriety to the point that Jonson and two of his fellow 
                    actors were arrested and all copies of the play were destroyed. The matter was 
                    referred to the Privy Council, which found the actors guilty of “leude and mutynous 
                    behavior” and recommended a three month prison term and a ban on all public 
                    plays for the rest of the summer. Queen Elizabeth was generally a supportive
                    patron of London’s theater scene, but she carried out the Council’s
                    recommendations, effectively imposing a ban usually reserved for the lenten 
                    season.

                    The image of DOGS occurs only one other time in The Waste Land, when the poet
                    bids his friend to keep the dog from digging up a corpse (TWL 74), but there are
                    other seemingly related references within the poem’s principal allusions:  From
                    William Shakespeare, The Tempest, 1.2.376-402 (1611) (see TWL 26, 48, 
                    119-123, 125, 182, 192, 257 and 393) Ariel’s song refers to barking watchdogs;
                    from Ovid, Metamorphoses 3:206-312 (AD 8) (see TWL 77-81 and TWL 
                    197-198) Diana turns Actaeon into a stag to be hunted by his own dogs; from 
                    Jesus ben Sira, Alphabeta (ca.AD 700-900; tr. M. Steinschneider, 1858) (see 
                    TWL 139-161) Lilith is sent to the desert where the wild dogs dwell; and from 
                    Sophocles, Antigone 5: 79-83 (441 BC, tr. Francis Storr, 1912) (see TWL 
                    243-246) Tiresias speaks of

                    mangled warriors who have found a grave
                    I' the maw of wolf or hound

                               Weialala leia
                               Wallala leialala

          Elizabeth and Leicester

                    Eliot's note"V. Froude, Elizabeth, vol. I, ch. iv, letter of De Quadra to Philip of 
                    Spain..."  See James Anthony Froude, The Reign of Elizabeth (1911)

                    In the afternoon we were in a barge, watching the games on the river. (The 
                    queen) was alone with Lord Robert and myself on the poop, when they began to 
                    talk nonsense, and went so far that Lord Robert at last said, as I was on the spot 
                    there was no reason why they should not be married if the queen pleased.  

                    In his 1561 letter to King Philip, Spanish Ambassador Alvaro de la Quadra 
                    supported talk that Elizabeth I, known as the Virgin Queen, and Lord Robert
                    Dudley, later the Earl of Leicester, were lovers who would rendezvous at the 
                    Queen’s home in Greenwich, past the Isle of Dogs. A year earlier, Lord Robert’s 
                    first wife, Amy Robsart, had died from a fall down a flight of stairs.  The coroner 
                    officially ruled her death an accident, but rumors persisted that he had arranged for 
                    her death in order to be free to marry the Queen.  In 1564, four years after the 
                    accident the Queen appointed him Earl of Leicester, but she never did marry Lord 
                    Robert or anyone else, and Lord Robert did not remarry for eighteen years. 

          Beating oars

                    The BEATING OARS motif is presented twice in the poem, here and at TWL 420, 
                    but there are also several indirect references, first through the adapted description 
                    of Cleopatra’s chambers (see TWL 77) and then in the allusion to Philomela’s 
                    abduction (see TWL 99).

          The stern was formed
          A gilded shell
          Red and gold

                    Red and gold are the colors of the Spanish flag. In 1588, the Earl of Leicester 
                    ostensibly defended the Thames to keep the Spanish Armada from advancing 
                    towards London. 

          The brisk swell
          Rippled both shores
          Southwest wind
          Carried down stream
          The peal of bells
          White towers
                              Weialala leia
                              Wallala leialala

                    The peal of bells and white towers suggest the festive trappings of a wedding, 
                    forever out of reach for Elizabeth and Leicester; bells also characterize the Tower
                    of London and St Paul’s Cathedral, once white before taking on the dinge of time, 
                    pollution and war.  See also lines 383-384: “...towers tolling reminiscent bells.” See
                    also Walt Whitman, Memories of President Lincoln 6 (1892)

                    With the tolling tolling bells’ perpetual clang.

          “Trams and dusty trees.
          Highbury bore me.  Richmond and Kew
          Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees
          Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe.”

                    This is the first of the three Thames-daughters' songs. The three singers relate 
                    losses of virginity, each one having a different perspective. 

                    Eliot's note: "Cf. Purgatorio, V. 133: 'Ricorditi di me, che son la Pia; / Siena mi fe', 
                    disfecemi Maremma.'" This refers to Dante Alighieri, Purgatorio 5:118-136 
                    (1321, tr. Henry Wordsworth Longfellow, 1867)

                    ...Down fell the rain, and to the gullies came
                    Whate'er of it earth tolerated not;

                    And as it mingled with the mighty torrents,
                    Towards the royal river with such speed
                    It headlong rushed, that nothing held it back.

                    My frozen body near unto its outlet
                    The robust Archian found, and into Arno
                    Thrust it, and loosened from my breast the cross

                    I made of me, when agony o'ercame me;
                    It rolled me on the banks and on the bottom,
                    Then with its booty covered and begirt me.

                    ‘Ah, when thou hast returned unto the world,
                    And rested thee from thy long journeying,’
                    After the second followed the third spirit,

                    ‘Do Thou remember me who am the Pia;
                    Siena made me, unmade me Maremma
                    He knoweth it, who had encircled first,

                    Espousing me, my finger with his gem.

                   The speaker is Pia de Tolemei, wife of a thirteenth century Tuscan captain who had
                    her killed to facilitate his marriage to another woman (compare similar allegations 
                    against Lord Robert above). Pia was born to a noble family in Siena; her husband 
                    was the lord of Castel di Pietra in Maremma.  

                    See also William Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra 2.2.208 (1623)

                    ...and what they undid did.

                    In the present passage, Highbury is a working class London suburb; Kew and 
                    Richmond are communities along the River Thames in southwest London, with the 
                    Royal Botanic Gardens, commonly called Kew Gardens, situated between them. 
                    Eliot’s use of this allusion and its tie to London neighborhoods may have been 
                    initially inspired by Ezra Pound, Ode to Hugh Selwyn Mauberley (1920), an
                    autobiographical London satire with eighteen separate poems, the seventh called 
                    “Siena mi fè, disfecemi Maremma.”  


from T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land, with annotations (and other explanations)

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