T. S.
ELIOT
dubious one, it would not be strange if a man from Mars decided that
some infinitesimal hair-splitting were involved, or that Eliot, like Mil–
ton, had found darkne&> visible, for surely there is a kind of darkness
in
distinguishing between "very great" and "the very greatest."
There are other possible explanations of Eliot's attitude to Milton,
but they are all merely guesses which are easily punctured. Whatever
the explanation may be, I should like to rush
in
where scientists fear
to tread and, with complete foolhardine&>, venture to predict that
when Eliot next speaks of Milton, next month, he
will
praise him
with more sympathy and justice than he ever has before. I should say
that I have the advantage of knowing that Eliot has expre&>ed a
desire ·to lecture on Milton when he comes to America this spring.
In saying this, I do not depend wholly upon a wish to indulge
in
predictions like a weather forecaster. There is real evidence in Eliot's
recent poetry and criticism to suggest such a revision of judgment.
In "Four Quartets" there is not only a paraphrase of a famous
pa$age
in
"Samson Agonistes"-
o
dark, dark, dark. They all go into the dark.
but in addition, there are many indications that Eliot as a poet has
found himself in an emotional situation which resembles Milton's
when
he was writing "Paradise Lost," especially in the personal and
autobiographical passages. The same kind of resemblances can
be
found between certain parts of "Samson Agonistes" and certain pas–
sages in the "Four Quartets." For example, the justly famous passage
in
"Samson Agonistes,"
All is best, though we oft doubt
What the unsearchable dispose
Of highest Wisdom brings about,
And ever best found in the close.
This
seems to me to be very close
in
feeling and attitude to one of
the
finest passages in the "Four Quartets":
Sin is Behovely, but
All shall be well, and
All manner of thing shall be well
By the purification of motive
In the ground of our beseeching.
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