Vrai naif
Sir: 'One of the most notable things about his poetry as a whole is its signal failure to cele- brate or give any account of human love . . . poetically a sort of emotional invalidism . . . progressively obscured by an increasing por- tentousness . . . private but audible giggle not an altogether pleasant sound . . . simply a con- fession of total poetic failure ... naivety did not escape corruption . . . the Quartets themselves consist of theological and philosophical abstrac- tions piled up on an almost commonplace series of experiences . .. its content is little more pro- found than that of a rather poor sermon. It all goes to show that solemnity, mysticism and stylish piety are no substitute, in poetry, for emotional wisdom and ripeness. And Eliot may now be seen to have lacked these altogether.'
These are a few barbs from Mr Martin Seymour-Smith's onslaught on T. S. Eliot (11 April). Pontification when it reaches a certain level of arrogance has its humorous side, all the same the most apt comment seems to be a quota- tion from another poet whom, doubtless, Mr Martin Seymour-Smith would attack with equal murderous intent and suicidal achievement: 'Chuck it, Smith.'
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