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T. S. EliotA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
The drinking of tea is a recurring motif, mentioned in all three parts of the poem. The tradition of afternoon tea may be more associated with England, but it was also a standard part of the social day in early 20th-century American culture, especially in wealthy households whose residents’ did not work for a living. Formal teas, often in the home, were hosted by society ladies and mainly attended by other women. This is what the lady in the poem does; she refers to “serving tea to friends” (Line 68) and implies that is a long-standing ritual of her homosocial relationships. The fact that she serves the young man tea and that she couches what she wants from him in the euphemism “friendship” (Line 26) purposefully blurs the boundaries between the different kinds of connections she can form. The afternoon tea ritual may also reveal a class element in the poem. The lady is likely richer and better established than the young man; possibly, one of the many reasons he feels uncomfortable is that he comes from a lower class or is simply much lower on the social ladder. It is notable that when he imagines escaping from her, he pictures reading stories from the popular press, as well as “the comics and the sporting page” (Line 72)—a far cry, no doubt, from the type of reading favored by the lady.
Musical imagery is a recurring motif. It is introduced in Part 1, with the lady’s comments about Chopin’s Preludes; the speaker picks up on this reference with positive images of violins and cornets heard from a distance. The imagery reappears in Line 31, but this time it is filtered through the speaker’s agitated state of mind as “cracked cornets” (Line 31) and then takes a full-on dissonant character:
Inside my brain a dull tom-tom begins
Absurdly hammering a prelude of its own,
Capricious monotone
That is at least one definite ‘false note’ (Lines 32-35).
Music thus becomes a symbol of an oppressive rather than harmonious state of mind. The “false note” is also a nice characterization of the speaker’s strained politeness throughout his interactions with the lady.
Music imagery returns in Part 2, also strongly associated with the speaker’s perspective; he compares the lady’s voice to “the insistent out-of-tune / Of a broken violin on an August afternoon” (Lines 56-57). Clearly, the young man has no patience for her insinuations that they grow closer. Later in Part 2, the mellifluous music of Chopin, which leaves the speaker cold, is implicitly contrasted with the music from a “mechanical and tired” (Line 79) street piano, which “Reiterates some worn-out common song” (Line 80). Despite the barrage of negative adjectives, that piano still has an insidious power to convey some unstated emotion that disturbs the young man.
In the final appearance of the music motif, the lady’s favorite Chopin piano pieces return to the speaker’s mind; this time he links them to a vision of the lady’s death: The music is “successful with a ‘dying fall’” (Line 122). Her death might, he thinks, leave her with an advantage over him—she would be gone but he would still be left to sort out his own troubled feelings.
The word “smile” occurs several times in the poem and is emblematic of the dissembling of the speaker. A smile normally indicates pleasure, friendliness, and enjoyment, as well as acknowledgement and validation of the other person, but in this case the opposite is true. He may wear an outward smile, but this is at a polite cover for boredom, discomfort, and his unwillingness to succumb to her implied seduction. After the lady points out that youth “smiles at situations which it cannot see” (Line 49), the speaker tells us that in response, “I smile, of course” (Line 50), appearing to indicate his assent to what she says, but likely merely covering up what he might really feel. In Part 2, the young man smiles again after the lady comments about his approaching departure: “My smile falls heavily among the bric-à-brac” (Line 92)—it is as if he knows that his smile is not giving the best impression. A few lines later, after more remarks from the lady that likely make him feel awkward, he reveals how disconnected his facial expression is from what he is really feeling: “I feel like one who smiles, and turning shall remark / Suddenly, his expression in a glass” (Lines 99-100). Seeing himself smiling in the mirror is a surprise because he does not have the feelings that normally accompany a smile.
By T. S. Eliot