John Milton
John Milton is the author of Paradise Lost, often considered the greatest epic poem in the English language. Eliot takes a rather contrarian view of this figure:“Milton’s poetry could only be an influence for the worse, upon any poet whatever.”
Charles Baudelaire
Baudelaire was to the poetry of his time what Johnny Rotten was to the music of his. Not really, of course, but he was poetry’s bad boy. What Eliot has to say about Baudelaire also gives great insight into how he felt about French poets in general.
Hamlet
Eliot makes a keen observation about what he calls the problem with Hamlet. (The play, not the character.) Almost as a universal rule, the longest speaking role in the history of English drama has become so complex that any criticism written about Hamlet (the character, not the play) inevitably tells the reader more about the critic than the play.
Henry James
T.S. Eliot has an often maddening peculiarity: when he is writing criticism of another writer, it often becomes a mystery that must be solved. Does he think this guy is the greatest thing since sliced bread or maybe not so much. His short overview of Henry James offers the perfect example:
“He had a mind so fine that no idea could violate it.”
Is that a compliment of the highest order or a kick to the lower regions? Read the entire essay to figure it out for yourself.
Dante
Only John Milton is afforded as much attention as Dante (The Inferno) in this collection. How he felt about Milton is another case of that ambiguous quality that makes him frustrating, but as evidenced above, it becomes pretty clear that Milton does not preside over the Eliot Hall of Fame. Dante fares better, but it takes some fairly close attention to realize it.
