The Philomela Myth in Eliot's "The Waste Land"


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		The Philomela Myth in Eliot's "The Waste Land"
			8 April 1999

	Myths have often been the focus of a work of literature, either as the focus or the basis of a piece. T. S. Eliot used myths in a most extraordinary fashion, interweaving various myths as both small pieces of a larger puzzle and as a frame for that puzzle. Each myth mentioned or alluded to in "The Waste Land" adds to the overall picture, yet none typify the poem as much as the myth of Philomela. This myth is worthy to carry the weight of the poem's heavy themes, as it is has a dark nature of its own. In the myth, Philomela is raped by her sister's husband Tereus. Philomela's sister Procne discovers this, but Tereus ensures her silence by severing her tongue. Philomela finds her sister Procne, and the two take revenge by serving Tereus his slain son Itys. As Tereus attempts to slay the sisters, the gods intervene, turning all three into birds. (Graves 165-7). This story is echoed throughout "The Waste Land." While the complex and intricate poem can hardly be explained by examining only one of its components, this myth can be seen as an allegory for the overarching themes of the poem, including sex as only a lustful act, regeneration of things dead, and emptiness of feeling.

	Philomela's myth acts as an anchor for the recurring idea of procreation without producing any actual progeny. Eliot's poem immediately concerns itself with April, the month of births and rebirths. But Eliot's April is a bit different. It is "the cruellest month," set in a "dead land" (Eliot 60: l. 1). Likewise, the story of Philomela revolves around the traditional act of creation. According to Robert Graves, Philomela was raped by her sister's husband Tereus. This is the central action in the myth; had Tereus not committed this violent act, the rest of the story would not have taken place. It is the same with "The Waste Land." In this poem, the modern world has lost its ability to create new things. The world where new things grow and innovative ideas flourish has been violated by a most destructive force: stagnation. In all things, the act of re-creation is the most important action of any living creature. The instinct for survival of a species or a race should be paramount to any other. Yet the land in the poem is devoid of this instinct and this desire, just as Tereus' action is devoid of any purpose, save his own gratification. The world in Eliot's poem has stopped re-creating. This can be seen throughout the poem but is most concentrated in the scenes where the usually passionate act of sex is turned into a shadow of its normal use. The pairs of lovers presented in the poem are not concerned with generating offspring. Indeed, one speaker admits to using pills to abort an unwanted child (Eliot 76: l. 159). By conjuring up images of the ill-reputed Cannon Street Hotel (Eliot 79: l. 213) and the Metropole (Eliot 79: l. 214), sex takes on a sinful, lustful quality, making it like Tereus' sex act : empty of love and meaning. The narrator Tiresias tells of a couple involved in an encounter that "requires no response,/ And makes a welcome of indifference" (Eliot 81: ll. 241-2). In only the next stanza, Eliot revisits this theme with another act of sex, this time eliciting a response, albeit a negative one. This listlessness concerning procreation is not unique to the human characters in the poem. Though the poem is set in a land that was once able to produce gardens (Eliot 86: l. 323), the land is now dry. There is no thought of producing when even surviving is out of the question. There is no need, no desire. Like Tereus, Eliot's land is not motivated to procreate.


	Like so many modernist works, Eliot's poem does not stop with this recognition of stagnation. He also toys with the idea that the waste land could change. The last section of the poem hints that change might be imminent as "a damp gust/ Bringing rain" (Eliot 89: ll. 393-4) approaches the dry, cracked land. Throughout the poem, Eliot acknowledges that new things are created from dead things, as new civilizations have been built on old civilizations. The potential for this dead land can be found in line 338: "If there were only water amongst the rock" (Eliot 86). Once again, this theme can be traced to the myth of Philomela. In the first direct reference to the myth, Eliot even takes care to use the word "change" (Eliot 74: l. 100). The gods in the myth destroy the humanity of Philomela, Procne, and Tereus, turning them into beasts of the sky. Out of the rape, imprisonment, murder, and cannibalism of their situation, three birds are created: the nightingale, swallow, and hawk. In the myth, it takes the power of the gods to complete the metamorphosis; in the waste land, water is needed. The waste land, despite its decrepit and seeming pointless existence, still has potential to change. It appears as though Eliot thinks that this change will come about by discarding the superstitious religions of tarot cards and astrology and instead relying on a Christ-like god (Eliot 87: ll. 359-65). Eliot offers advice to the sinking world of the waste land through the teachings of the Hindu gods. "Datta" (Eliot 89: l. 401), "dayadhvam" (Eliot 89: l. 411), and "damyata" (Eliot 90: l. 418) appear like a mantra instructing the waste land to give, sympathize, and have self-control. Like the characters in the myth, the waste land does not have to perish for its misdeeds; rather, it can be renewed and regenerated.

	The waste land, however, is not regenerated or in the process of regenerating by the end of the poem. It is a world of potential, but still a world empty of emotion. Instead of wails of despair at the impending destruction of a world that will not regenerate, the pervading sound in this netherworld is silence. Here, the myth of Philomela is more than apt as a vehicle to illustrate this. In the myth, Procne is physically divorced from her instrument of speech. Later, as a swallow, she is once again without a tongue. The inhabitants of the waste land have also lost the ability to voice their concerns, desires, and joys. For them, the inability stems from an indifference to their plight. This indifference is paraded through the poem. For instance, the three maidens at the Thames suffer from boredom (Eliot 83: l. 293) and have lost the capacity to feel resentment (Eliot 83: l. 299), respectively. One goes so far to say, "I can connect/ Nothing with nothing/My people humble people who expect/ Nothing" (Eliot 83: ll. 301-5). The speakers at the end of the second section of the poem are utterly emotionless as they say their goodnights (Eliot 77: ll. 170-1). This world is indeed without emotion. It is this emotionless state that gives rise to the all-encompassing silence of the place: "the heart of light, the silence" (Eliot 70: l. 41) "....after the frosty silence in the gardens" (Eliot 86: l. 323)"....the jungle crouched, humped in silence" (Eliot 89: l. 398). It is not until the thunder comes with the promise of life-giving rain that the silence and indifference, is broken.

	Philomela's tragic story echoes the miserable plight of the waste land itself. By succumbing to indifference, the land has castrated itself, impeding its ability to regenerate. The activities of sitting back, caring little, and saying nothing are not the motions of living. The waste land is not a living world. Like Philomela, Eliot's world has suffered a great violation; like Procne, it has lost its ability to even communicate this loss. And like the gods, Eliot's wasteland has the ability to transform its more self-destructive parts. The myth of Philomela does not sum up the story presented in "The Waste Land," but it provides a conceptual lens that helps decipher the resounding themes within the poem.

	Works Cited

	Eliot, T. S. "The Waste Land." Collected Poems. New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Company, 1936. 67-98.

	Graves, Robert. The Greek Myths. London: Penguin, 1955.

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