The Chapel of the Wind

T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land (TWL), lines 386-395






          In this decayed hole among the mountains
          In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
          Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel

                    See Jessie L. Weston, From Ritual to Romance 13 (1920):

                    Students of the Grail romances will remember that in many of the 
                    versions the hero--sometimes it is a heroine--meets with a strange and 
                    terrifying adventure in a mysterious Chapel, an adventure which, we 
                    are given to understand, is fraught with extreme peril to life. The 
                    details vary: sometimes there is a Dead Body laid on the altar; 
                    sometimes a Black Hand extinguishes the tapers; there are strange 
                    and threatening voices, and the general impression is that this is an 
                    adventure in which supernatural, and evil, forces are engaged.  Such 
                    an adventure befalls Gawain on his way to the Grail Castle. He is 
                    overtaken by a terrible storm, and coming to a Chapel, standing at a 
                    crossways in the middle of a forest, enters for shelter. The altar is bare, 
                    with no cloth, or covering, nothing is thereon but a great golden 
                    candlestick with a tall taper burning within it. Behind the altar is a 
                    window, and as Gawain looks a Hand, black and hideous, comes 
                    through the window, and extinguishes the taper, while a voice makes 
                    lamentation loud and dire, beneath which the very building rocks. 
                    Gawain's horse shies for terror, and the knight, making the sign of the 
                    Cross, rides out of the Chapel, to find the storm abated, and the great 
                    wind fallen. Thereafter the night was calm and clear.

          There is the empty chapel, only the wind's home.

                    See the “wind under the door” at TWL 118.

          It has no windows, and the door swings,
          Dry bones can harm no one.

                    THE CHAPEL PERILOUS in this passage is empty and windowless; 
                    likewise the bones, not yet brought to life (see TWL 186), are dry and 
                    harmless. The chapel remains the wind’s home, however, and the 
                    scene quickly changes: the door swings, a damp gust brings rain (see 
                    TWL 394-395) and what was once a dry, sterile thunder (see TWL 342) 
                    will become full of meaning (see TWL 399 and following).  Compare 
                    the chapel of Eliot, Little Gidding (1943):  

                    ...If you came this way,
                    Taking any route, starting from anywhere,
                    At any time or at any season,
                    It would always be the same: you would have to put off
                    Sense and notion.  You are not here to verify,
                    Instruct yourself, or inform curiosity
                    Or carry report.  You are here to kneel
                    Where prayer has been valid.  And prayer is more
                    Than an order of words, the conscious occupation
                    Of the praying mind, or the sound of the voice praying...

          Only a cock stood on the rooftree
          Co co rico    co co rico

                    Co co rico is the rooster’s cry in French, the language of Leman (see 
                    TWL182) and, demotically, of Mr. Eugenides (see TWL 212). See 
                    also Matthew 26: 31-35, 69-75: 

                    Then saith Jesus unto them, All ye shall be offended because of me 
                    this night: for it is written, I will smite the shepherd, and the sheep of 
                    the flock shall be scattered abroad. But after I am risen again, I will 
                    go before you into Galilee. Peter answered and said unto him, Though 
                    all men shall be offended because of thee, yet will I never be offended. 
                    Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, That this night, before the 
                    cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice. Peter said unto him, Though I 
                    should die with thee, yet will I not deny thee. ...Now Peter sat without 
                    in the palace: and a damsel came unto him, saying, Thou also wast 
                    with Jesus of Galilee. But he denied before them all, saying, I know not 
                    what thou sayest. And when he was gone out into the porch, another 
                    maid saw him, and said unto them that were there, This fellow was also 
                    with Jesus of Nazareth. And again he denied with an oath, I do not know 
                    the man. And after a while came unto him they that stood by, and said to 
                    Peter, Surely thou also art one of them; for thy speech betrayeth thee. 
                    Then began he to curse and to swear, saying, I know not the man. And 
                    immediately the cock crew. And Peter remembered the word of Jesus, 
                    which said unto him, Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice. 
                    And he went out, and wept bitterly.  

                    THE CROWING COCK also occurs in Shakespeare, The Tempest, 
                    1.2.385-387:

                    ARIEL

                    Hark, hark! I hear
                    The strain of strutting chanticleer
                    Cry, Cock a diddle dow

                    and in Shakespeare, Hamlet, 1.1.156, as the ghost of Hamlet’s father, 
                    just about to speak, suddenly departs at dawn):

                    MARCELLUS

                    It faded on the crowing of the cock.

          In a flash of lightning.  Then a damp gust
          Bringing rain

                    See Joseph Conrad, An Outcast of the Islands 4.5 (1896):

                    Then the heavy air round him was pierced by a sharp gust of wind, 
                    bringing with it the fresh, damp feel of the falling rain...


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