Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things.
I’m told T.S. Eliot remains the most important Anglo-American poet-critic of the twentieth century. Which is curious, given how little poetry or criticism he’s written. To test this claim I’ve started reading a few of his essays on literary theory, to start: Tradition and the Individual Talent. I was also told, though not part of the movement himself, that Eliot’s writings heavily influenced the New Critics, an important theory school of the early twentieth century. The school emphasizes a book’s text over its author or audience, particularly its technical structure over its “meaning” or “purpose.” I don’t know about all that, but I do know Eliot’s essay is spectacular, and makes me excited to study him further.
The essay is in three parts, but as part three is an abstract summary, we’ll look at the first two. The crux of the entire piece is that a serious artist must study history, or his artistic heritage, in order to produce meaningful work. In the process he’ll find himself subsumed into history, where self-surrender will best allow him to complete his task.
The first part, while making safer claims than the second, is pure gold. Eliot argues that tradition is not something merely inherited, but earned through continual study. And why study history? A few reasons, the chief being that an artist cannot create something original if he does not know what came before, and art is not art if it’s not new. He cannot know what part of the past is past, and which still informs the present. He cannot know where he stands in the scheme of things. He cannot escape the judgment of history, so he must acquaint himself with the judges. And the truth of the matter is that the individual’s mind pales in comparison to the rich legacy of his culture, the (in Eliot’s case) “mind of Europe.” All very fine, but doesn’t this seem a bit harsh? Surely we can say something in defense of the “new”? Absolutely! Eliot argues this relationship is so important because it’s reciprocal. Just as the past informs the present, so must the present alter the past. In other words, once a genuine work of art enters history, it nudges, every so politely, everything that ever came before it. A meaningful creation both incorporates and defines history. In this way Eliot is celebrating both novelty and conformity. He wants artists to incorporate all that’s great in their tradition, while adding something unique to challenge it. The past needs us just as much as we need it.
Eliot’s second point is a bit more daring, and one that critics still debate. While outlining the artist and tradition relationship in the first portion, he now claims that it’s in the artist’s best interest to subsume his personality into his creation. That rather than art being a conduit for an artist-audience connection, we should instead privilege the artistic creation itself. After all, it’s neither the author’s ability to feel or think that’s unique, nor is it the reader’s ability, but the real miracle here is the poem’s mechanisms. The poetic machine—in which the artist’s life is merely a component (and not a focus)—is what creates wonder. Thus any arrogance on the part of the poet, or critic, to celebrate or attribute sublimity to the author, as being transferred to the audience, is strongly challenged. Eliot seems to be championing artifice over nature; rhetoric over truth. An artist is also seemingly subsumed into his own art, as his greatest purpose to develop the invention to its fullest potential. Likewise with the reader. It doesn’t really matter, per se, what the audience feels: it may or may not be unique or intended. The important thing is that the art itself is studied, as that’s what produces effect (or appreciation, or understanding). The artistic object inhales real world emotions/thoughts and exhales a completely new and unique experience, which cannot be accessed anywhere else in our world. Our focus should be on that wondrous device, not ourselves.
This is a powerful argument, by no means indisputable but strong enough to set the terms for further discussion. Off the bat I would challenge a number of claims in the second part, though the first is pretty tough to counter. What I love most is how Eliot manages to elevate the status of the individual while paradoxically advocating his self-effacement; one defines history and creates art (self-actualize) only if they are willing to absolve themselves of personality and emotion (in the artistic process). A mature opinion that’s tough to swallow.