‘The emotion of art is impersonal’:

The process of depersonalization

We ended last time's discussion of Eliot's Objective Correlative theory by looking at it in the light of Shakespeare's definition of Imagination's role in the creative process. This, interestingly, was even more of an ‘obiter dictum’ than Eliot's, being thrown up in the course of the dramatic action of a play. The remarkableness of Shakespeare's insight, and foresight, is aptly described by Owen Barfield in ‘History in English Words':

“In such a passage we seem to behold him standing up, a figure of colossal stature, gazing at us over the heads of the intervening generations. He transcends the flights of time and the laborious building up of meanings and, picking up a part of the outlook of an age which is to succeed his by nearly two hundred years, gives it momentary expression before he lets it drop again.

That mystical conception which the word embodies in these lines—a conception which would make imagination the interpreter and part creator of a whole unseen world—is not found again until the Romantic Movement has begun.”

Famous definitions

It is strange that Eliot's own theory makes no mention of Imagination even though the Romantic Movement and Coleridge's famous definition preceded his by over a hundred years. In fact, as noted last time, Eliot's version makes the creative process look rather like a scientific one. Indeed, it is reminiscent of another of his pronouncements which he actually explains in scientific terms. This is found in his most famous essay, ‘Tradition and the Individual Talent'. Speaking of the ‘process of depersonalization’ whereby ‘art may be said to approach the condition of science’, he invites us to consider the role of the catalyst in chemistry and draws this analogy:

Nihal de Silva

“When the two gases (oxygen and sulphur dioxide) are mixed in the presence of a filament of platinum, they form sulphuric acid. This combination takes place only if the platinum is present; nevertheless the newly formed acid contains no trace of platinum, and the platinum itself is apparently unaffected: it has remained inert, neutral, and unchanged.

The mind of the poet is the shred of platinum. It may partly or exclusively operate upon the experience of the man himself; but, the more perfect the artist, the more completely separate in him will be the man who suffers and the mind which creates; the more perfectly will the mind digest and transmute the passions which are its material.”

Eliot goes on to speak of ‘significant emotion’, namely the ‘emotion which has its life in the poem and not in the history of the poet. The emotion of art’, he concludes, ‘is impersonal.’ The resulting concept of the impersonality of true poetry has, needless to say, been tediously overworked.

It hardly, for instance, holds good in the face of Shakespeare's sonnets, most of Wordsworth's poetry and Eliot's own ‘Four Quartets'. These surely represent the intensely personal experiences of the poets themselves as presented directly to us. The notion of impersonality seems quite inappropriate here. Yet, we cannot afford to throw out the baby with the bath-water.

Substitute the word ‘detachment’ for impersonality, and the desirability of there being a measure of detachment between the artist and his work of art will be readily acknowledged. And if truth be told such detachment is even to be found in the aforementioned works.

In these poems Wordsworth and Eliot are each, undoubtedly, ‘a man speaking to men’ in accordance with the former's idea of what a poet should be. Shakespeare, too, is obviously speaking to us as well as addressing the objects of his devotion.

Yet all three achieve that necessary degree of detachment through the imaginative use of situation and imagery. In the Sonnets the experience of unrequited devotion becomes the occasion for profound thoughts about life and death, time and permanence, love and lust, which absorb us more than the actual experience of ‘the man who suffers'.

And while ‘Tintern Abbey’ is all about Wordsworth's deepening awareness of nature's influence, nature itself becomes for us as well as for him ‘a presence that disturbs'; it is through his evocation of that presence rather than through his ‘elevated thoughts’ that we share the ‘joy’ of them, that indefinable ‘sense sublime.’

As for ‘Waste Land’, Eliot's profound meditations on time past, present and future are distanced from himself by their association with the locations that provide the titles of the four quartets, ‘Burnt Norton’ etc., and by the myriad ancillary images these engender, eg. the rose garden, the river etc.

Greater credence

Thus, even if you cannot talk about impersonality here the existence of an ‘art emotion’ is undeniable. And when we range further afield the idea of impersonality itself gains greater credence. What is personal, for instance, about Keats ‘Ode to Autumn’, Wallace Stevens’ ‘Anecdote of the Jar’ and Alfreda de Silva's ‘Stone Girl in an Indian Garden'? They seem pretty impersonal for all that they are moving or thought-provoking. And it is here that the theory of the objective correlative makes its presence felt.

It is seen to be bound up with the process of depersonalization and the production of the art emotion. Autumn becomes a symbol of the idea that ‘change is the mother of beauty'. The jar seems to embody, inter alia, the restrictive effects of the civilizing process and the philosophizing tendency. The retold legend of the stone girl is a frightening revelation of man's latent animalism. And when you look back you see that the objectivity of these poems has been achieved through a superb choice of correlatives for the subjective realities they represent.

But we must remember that Eliot spoke of the objective correlative in writing about a play, Shakespeare's ‘Hamlet'. And it is in the realms of drama and fiction that the concept takes on an even greater relevance. As we have discussed earlier a novel is not effective unless it has the feel, gives the illusion, of real life. For this purpose its social context, its characters and their relationships and its story or plot are essential. So are these essential for drama, though here context becomes less important and plot more so.

And it is these indispensable ingredients of fiction and drama that provide the ‘set of objects, situations and chains of events’ that function as objective correlatives to the subjective issues under consideration.

When these correlatives are imaginatively conceived the experience of the play or the novel moves into a dimension of impersonality; and thence into one of universality. The artist has succeeded in embodying his ideas and passions in his plot and characters, thereby transmuting them into something rich and strange.

Thus Emily Bronte's yearning for romantic love and her adoration of the earth are convincingly incorporated in the person of Cathy. And what happens to the latter in the story shows her understanding of the consequences of indulging these passions to an extreme.

It is the experience of Cathy, not of the author, that captures our imagination, and this is because of the chain of events and the situations in which Cathy moves and suffers. And in ‘The Road from Elephant Pass’ Nihal de Silva's choice of the civil war as his context and a credible escape story arising therefrom as his plot is what enables him to objectify his hatred of prejudice and his longing for brotherhood among the races.

‘Elephant Pass’ has been dismissed by some as an adventure story for schoolboys. This is because they have failed to realise that the literal adventure is the objective correlative of the greater adventure of the development of a loving relationship between two deadly enemies: and that the way this relationship develops is itself the objective correlative of how, through mutual knowledge and understanding, the rapprochement that is desired on a universal scale might be achieved. For such critics ‘a hawk’ in Pound's words, ‘is a hawk'. But their misjudgment too is a vindication of Eliot's theory!

Personal friendships

Turning to drama, Shakespeare finds in the events preceding and following the assassination of Julius Caesar an objective correlative for his thoughts about the difficulty of reconciling personal friendship and commitment to the general good when the two loyalties came into conflict; also the trauma that ensues when the high-minded soul is persuaded to adopt questionable means to achieve an ideal. ‘Julius Caesar’ is often linked with ‘Hamlet’ for its depiction of a hesitant hero, Brutus, and for its profusion of compelling speeches. Our reference to it, therefore, is is an appropriate prelude to our taking up for consideration Eliot's contention that ‘Hamlet’ is an artistic failure.