PrufrockPenelope wrote:When T S Elliot wrote:- I have measured out my life in coffee spoons: We all know what he meant.... We didn't say, 'How many coffee spoons'? or, 'Well, what was the exact cubic capacity of the coffee spoons?' We tell ourselves stories....to help us to understand the question.. What are we doing here? The stories are not scientific......because science is asking a different question? Note the question mark. I'm not intending to intrude on a debate which is somewhat above my head. Well....more than somewhat......but I'm doing my best for the proletariat
Hi Penelope, , I would like to come back to this comment of yours from 26 Feb.
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, the source of the coffee spoon line, is one of my favourite poems. There has got to be a deep irony in there somewhere that
Eliot castigated Milton as one whose sensuousness had been "withered by book-learning" and claimed that Milton's poetry '"could only be an influence for the worse" and yet both share deep fascination for time and cosmology. As well, it is a fair question if Eliot can really be seen as more sensual than Milton in hindsight.
Prufrock starts with an epigraph from Dante’s
Inferno, with considerable Miltonic resonance with its mythic narrative starting in Hell.
If I thought my answer were given to anyone who would ever return to the world, this flame would stand still without moving any further. But since never from this abyss has anyone ever returned alive, if what I hear is true, without fear of infamy I answer you.
The “answer” given in the poem, intended for those who understand eternity, seems to be a contrast between the ordinary and the real understanding of time. Eliot first describes ordinary time, admittedly with a nod to Hesiod:
There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea. ... In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. For I have known them all already, known them all:— Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
This ordinary time describes a world characterised by the banality of gossip. In condemning such shallow views, rather like Milton’s characterisation of fallen human life, Eliot asks "Do I dare disturb the universe? and then points toward real time:
Would it have been worth while, To have bitten off the matter with a smile, To have squeezed the universe into a ball To roll it toward some overwhelming question, To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead, Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”— ... I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.
This sense of “rolling the universe into a ball” reminds me of what I am doing here, looking at the whole of the solar system through long time. Lazarus, in the interpretation of Tom Harpur, signifies Osiris, Egyptian God of the Dead, with his cyclic sense of time that is quite foreign to the modern linear mentality. The extreme sadness of modernity, etherised on the table, shows through in the sense that Eliot is so removed from eternity that the magical sirens who should be expected to entice him could not be bothered.
Rather, the magical mermaids are preoccupied by natural cycles:
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black.