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Heap of Images: 1 October 1993
Mythology in Eliot’s “Burial of the Dead”
T S Eliot’s sources for his poem “The Wasteland” are many and diverse, but he is able to bring
them together into a unified and coherent whole which carries themes throughout the entire
poem. Written as a reaction to World War I, “The Wasteland” is a poem not merely of
desolation, but of hope and renewal. The war was such a shock to the world, Eliot seems to fear,
it has become sterile and thoughtless. That sterility could mean the loss of myth, the loss of
unifying theme. Reading this poem and many of Eliot’s others, one is able to understand Eliot’s
use of myth as a device to integrate modern society with the ancient world. The Christian myth,
carried from the Bible to Dante to the Golden Bough, weighs heavily in Eliot’s work, but so do
more occult interests such as the tarot and Greek mythology. Eliot alludes to these and many
other sources in attempt to suggest the mode of salvation for a wartorn society, a society which
may have lost its faith in the mythos of earlier days. “The Wasteland” is a call for revitalization,
for resuscitation of the modern world. Each of the poem’s four sections deal with a separate
topic, a separate theme, but the one section perhaps most crucial to acquainting the reader with
Eliot’s intentions and perspective is the first, “The Burial of the Dead.” A careful investigation of
“The Burial of the Dead” reveals that through many references to myths and other sources, Eliot
establishes fertility out of sterility as this sect
ion’s unifying theme.
perceptions of spring. Often seen as a time of glorious blooming and benevolent renewal, spring
generally is a favorite season of poets, authors, and mythmakers. His is not the idyllic
negating an image or seeking its antithesis. For Eliot, spring is still a season of “breeding lilacs”
(12) but he alters the understanding of the season. “April is the cruellest month” because it
“mixes memory and desire.” People recovering from a great calamity such as a war will
remember earlier, better times, and instill in them a desire for regression or stagnation, not
progress. A society in such a state is often deadened or desolate as a result of its suffering and,
likes Hamlet, finds solace in extending their mourning. If we understand Eliot’s contemporaries
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as sullen and lifeless, we can imagine their aversion to “stirring [their] dull roots with spring
rain” (34).
connotes sterility and death. Sinter seems almost a permanent month, where people are content
Eliot’s Wasteland, the citizens find further solace in the winter, as they are able to escape their
sorrow in the “forgetful snow” (6). Eliot sees a need for a resurrection of life in this community,
a positive gain from the disaster which has crippled and sterilized it.
He suggests a summertime cure for wasteland blues in his discussion of the frolicking
Bavarian duchess, Marie. Marie’s renewal through nature and community refers to centuries of
myth in which alienation from nature proves the undoing of a hero and in which communitas is
often the most potent force. Marie finds pleasure in the Hofgarten park and the Starnberger lake
as she “went on in the sunlight” (10), which suggests a reestablishment of a bond with nature
after the destruction by the war. Marie is among the first to escape the malaise which afflicts
others of the Wasteland. While others are burdened with memory and desire, Marie travels to
and sleds in the mountains, because “there you feel free” (18). Because war is the most intense
conflict between one man and another, we see Marie as further patching the wounds of the war
by communicating with other people. Her playing at the archduke’s also can be understood as
a repentance for the war, or a recognition of moving forward, after the assassination of the arch
duke Franz Ferdinand which was in many ways responsible for the death of so many thousands.
After Marie has led the drive to renewal, as a sort of missionary, it is necessary for others
discover “what branches grow / Out of this stony rubbish” (1920). This line recalls many forms
of the Phoenix tales, of heroes returning from the dead, of the tree of life. It is a fitting precedent
to Eliot’s declaration to the “Son of man” who knows “only a heap of broken images” (2022)
which make up his fragmented identity in the twentieth century. The modern man, Eliot
suggests, is not whole; he has forgotten the myth which preceded him. He is unfamiliar with the
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cycles of the human mind as represented in its mythology, and is therefore not only alienated
from his contemporary man, but also from his ancestors. “The Wasteland” is therefore
instructive in two significant ways. First, Eliot asks his audience to look to its history for
patterns and assistance. Second, Eliot’s own poem alludes constantly to other mythologies,
other literatures. He is the exemplary mode of his own literary philosophy.
figures, resurrected from the crucifixion of World War I. Some critics have noted the line also
refers to the book of Ezekiel in the Bible. The Bible for Eliot seems to be the great source of
cultural mythology, and when coupled with Frazier’s The Golden Bough, turns the Wasteland into
a myth unto its own, and Eliot is its prophet. As God tells Ezekiel told, “Stand upon thy feet,
and I will speak unto thee,” (Ez. 2:1), so does Eliot demand of his readers to rise above the rubble
and develop. Eliot recalls the final end of society, but suggests that if they remain among the
heap of broken images, they will become “a handful of dust.” He wishes so much more, and
hope that this vision, this “fear” will inspire them towards fertile minds.
From this image of death, Eliot develops notions of resurrection. His discussion of the
Hyacinth girl refers back in part to the “breeding lilacs” in his opening stanza. The flowers grow
in the spring after the “forgetful snow” melts away and a new rain falls. “Hyacinth” also refers
to an ancient Greek god of fertility whose blood grew into a new flower. Likewise, Eliot appears
to hope the blood of the soldiers killed in the war will blossom into some positive end.
Eliot moves from the men of the stony rubbish who could not guess at the future to
“famous clairvoyante” Madame Sosostris, whose name, Eliot notes, was unconsciously culled
from a Huxley novel. This is curious because it fits in with Frazier’s and Eliot’s notion of an
unconscious memory, images from which travel from a broad, ancient mind to the subconscious
of every man. Sosostris’ “wicked pack of cards” (45) suggests the rise from the rubble, as “your
card,” the card of Eliot’s contemporaries, is that of the Phoenician Sailor who, like the Fisher
King, critics say, was sacrificed for the sake of regeneration in the spring. The Phoenician Sailor,
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like a British or American sailor killed during the war, is a necessary loss for fertility, a purgative
means.
Also among the cards is “Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks” (49) who may represent
one of the three Fates or could also be a corruption of “Bellona,” the Roman goddess of war.
This suggests Eliot’s uncertainty in the future, and some of his apprehension, as does the card
which depicts “the Wheel” (51). It is important that Eliot does not use Madame Sosostris to
outline his definite vision of the future. Instead, he leaves the tarot with the uncertainty and
mysticism it deserves, almost linking it more to the past than to the future. His mention of the
“man with three staves” to Eliot is reminiscent of Weston’s Fisher King, while the wheel of
fortune recalls the cyclical, but always inexact, classical method of prophesy. Furthermore, Eliot
notes, the Hanged Man is akin to Frazier’s Hanged God who, too, was sacrificed for fertile ends.
Eliot shifts into his contemporary society with his discussion of the “crowds of people,
walking round in a ring” (56). Mentioned in the Sosostris stanza, next to tarot cards and hanged
gods, they imply a ritual dance or ceremony, but Eliot then uses them to build his segue into the
final stanza of “The Burial of the Dead.” If we interpret the section as loosely chronological, we
see the most recent citizens, the latest additions to the mythology, are the somewhat unwilling
members of “the crowed [that] flowed over London bridge,” i.e. Eliot’s contemporaries.
Entrapped in some kind of purgatory, they are directed by the ringing of the church bells and
unnatural sighs, “short and infrequent” (65), Eliot writes with a nod to Dante. This prepares him
to transform centuries of Fisher King mythology into a more contemporary, “That corpse you
planted last year in your garden, / Has it begun to sprout?” Eliot cannot answer this question,
he is no Madame Sosostris, but he does seem to hope the Wheel of Fortune will turn, that the
corpse of World War I will sprout. 1626 words
Sources
Grimal, Pierre. Dictionary of Classical Mythology. (New York, 1991)
Southam, B.C. A Guide to the Selected Poem of T.S. Eliot. (New York, 1968)
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