vol6-no1

TRI -QUARTERLY VOLUME

6

NUMBER

ONE

70¢

NORTHWESTERN

UNIVERSITY

FALL.

1963

Richard W. Leopold The President and Foreign Policy: The Two Roosevelts

3

Daniel Johnson

The Vast Land Russell Warren

10

Nystrom

Poems

.......

15

...........................

17

.

Herbert Comess

Photographs

Barry G. Brissman The Death THE TRI-QUARTERLY is a magazine de­ voted to fiction, poetry, and articles of

They Are in Love

27

Homecoming

28

Poems

30

Gary T. Cole They Found The Yellow, Sloping Rock

re­

turned. Except by invitation, contributors are limited to persons who have some con­ nection with the University. Copyright, 1963,

by Northwestern University. All rights

22

Malcolm S. McCollum

addressed to THE TRI-QUARTERLY, care of the Northwestern University Press, 1840 Sheridan Roael, Evanston, illinois. Contribu­ tions unaccompanied by a self-addressed en­ and return postage will not be

......

Linda 0' Riordan

general interest, published in the fall, winter, and spring quarters at Northwestern Univer­ sity, Evanston, Illinois. Subcription rates: $2.00 yearly within the United States; $2.15, Canada; $2.25, foreign. Single copies will be sold locally for $.70. Contributions, cor­ respondence, and subscriptions should be

velope

.

.

32

Beverly Fields

re­

The Poetry of Anne Sexton

served.

38

Views expressed in the articles published are those of the authors and are not those of the editors.

necessarily

Tri-Quarter ly

Since this issue of THE TRI-QUARTERLY contains stories by three of our undergrad­ uate editors. I should like to make clear that the decision to print the work of student editors is wholly mine, not theirs. The under­ graduates whom I invite to serve as editors are students who are known to me as able writers, and the invitation is made with some expectation that they will be contri­ butors to the magazine.

E.H.

NORTHWESTERN Volume 6

UNIVERSITY

FALL

Number One

EDITORIAL BOARD: The editor is EDWARD B. HUNGERFORD. Senior members of the advisory board are Dean JAMES H. MC­ BURNEY of the School of Speech, Dr. WIlLlAM B. WARTMAN of the School of Medicine, Mr. ROBERT P. ARMSTRONG, Director of the Northwestern University Press, and Mr. JAMES M. BARKER of the Board of Trustees.

UNDERGRADUATE EDITORS: LINDA

BARRY G.

BRISSMAN, GARY T. COLE,

O'RIORDAN, and FRED W. STEFFEN.

THE

TRI-QUARTERLY is distributed by Northwestern Uni­ versity Press, and is under the business management of the Press. Design, layout, and production are by the University Publications Office.

Art Editor is Lauretta Akkeron. except that of Barry Brissman.

Photograpns by Herb Comess

THE PRESIDENT AND FOREIGN POLI[Y: THE TWO ROOSEVELTS

By Richard W. Leopold The

problem to which I address myself in this

paper is the limits of the powers of the president in foreign affairs. It is a timely topic. Once again, so frequently in the past, the executive and legislative branches disagree as to the precise steps to take for coping with danger from abroad.

as

Once again, we face the risk of divided counsels and even a deadlock in the decision-making proc­ ess.

Once again,

dent

we see

the possibility of a presi­

act against his own being compelled judgment. We must again ask who controls or makes foreign policy in the United States.

It is impossible in a short essay to make a complete analysis of this problem, and it is pre­ to

mature for a historian to concentrate on the most recent occupants of the White House. Hence I have chosen to illustrate the topic by examing the record of two men on whom we have some

perspective, Theodore Roosevelt and Franklin D. Roosevelt. There are several reasons for select­

ing this pair, quite apart from their popular ap­ peal. The two Roosevelts have much in common.

Both were fascinating individuals, wide-ranging in their interests and far-reaching in their influ­ ence. Both were acute observers of the world both were vigorous exponents of presi­ dential powers. Both have been accused of usurp-

scene;

Fall, 1963

ing the prerogatives of Congress and of trampling upon

the

Constitution.

Both

contributed

to

the

growth of American foreign policy and to the office of the presidency. Each had a sense of history. Each has been subjected to changing tides of historical opinion.

No one questions that the framers of the .Con­ stitution intended to make the president 'the cen­ tral figure in foreign policy. To the delegates who met at Philadelphia in 1787 one lesson of the preceding years was clear: the new government must have an executive. And perhaps the most compelling argument for the presidency was the need to handle external affairs

more

efficiently;

for from 1775 to 1789 foreign

policy was made by a unicameral legislature, working first through a committee and then through a secretary. Hence the new Constitution assigned four categories of power to the president. It said explicitly that he would communicate with foreign nations, ne­ gotiate and ratify treaties, and act as command­ er-in-chief of the armed forces. It implied, rather than stated explicitly, that he would formulate and initiate foreign policy.

It is clear that the founding fathers did not wish to give the president complete control over foreign policy. They were too addicted to theories 3

on the separation of powers and too mindful of the tyranny of some colonial governors to leave the executive unchecked. Hence they required the

Senate to confirm all appointments to diplomatic posts and to consent, by a two-thirds majority, to all treaties. Most important of all, they gave to Congress as a whole the power of the purse and the power to declare war. This division in the management of external affairs between the ex­

ecutive

and

legislative branches was, in the Corwin, "an invitation to struggle for the privilege of directing American foreign policy." That struggle has characterized much of our history.

That struggle can take many forms. It is enough here to mention three. One is over treat­ ies, where the president proposes but the Senate disposes. Given our party system it is relatively easy for a minority of one third plus one to block a treaty. A second point of friction is the over­ lapping of the power of the president as com­ mander-in-chief and the prerogative of Congress to declare war. By deploying men, ships, and planes, the executive can precipitate hostilities and thus deprive the legislature of its most cher­ ished right. The third area of conflict is in for­ mulating policy. Although the president normally takes the initiative, Congress may at any moment hobble him by launching investigations that dis­ rupt his negotiations, adopting resolutions that condemn his course, or passing laws that narrow his jurisdiction.

I have pictured the worst. Most policies have been formulated by the executive, as the origins of isolationism, neutrality, the Monroe Doctrine, words

of

Edward S.

This article, first delivered in ledure form 28, 1963, in the Alumni Fund series, is

on

February slightly

now

altered for inclusion, at the invitation of the editor, in The Tri-Quarterly.

policy. He was educated at Princeton

(B.A., '33) and Harvard (Ph.D., '38). He taught at Har­ vard from 1937 to 1948 with a World War 1/ interval of four years

as

the

open

door

before

Yet

attest.

Roosevelt took

As to treaties, most have been approved, yet deadlock over the Versailles settlement in

the

1919-1920

caused

conduct of a

fear

to

many

foreign policy

and

paralysis in the some

advocate

to

change in the treaty-making process. Most wars

begun with a

have

vote

by Congress, yet

outset of the air age Franklin Roosevelt

at the

was

ac­

cused of waging undeclared war in the Atlantic and of provoking Japan to strike first so as to

present Congress with a fait accompli. Today, in the

thermonuclear age, we cannot expect the Senate and House to debate the issue of war dur­

ing the fifteen minutes that

know

we

an

inter­

continental ballistic missile is in flight. Of course, under

any

system of government

we

must

dis­

tinguish between the formal grant of power and the

way

in

which

it

is

Common

used.

sense,

compromise, and individual leadership all enter in, and it is precisely on that last point that the record of the two Roosevelts is instructive.

Let

turn to the first Roosevelt. What

image conjure up? What mark did he leave on the presidency? What contribution did he make to foreign policy? I think of his boundless energy, his inquisitive mind, his voracious reading, his extensive friendships, his cosmopolitan outlook. us

does he

Richard W. Leopold came to Northwestern in 1948 and is presently the William Smith Mason Professor of American History, teaching primarily in the field of American foreign

only four years office, a Repub­ Theodore lican chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee threatened impeachment of a Demo­ cratic president if he refused, as it was alleged he would refuse, to carry out a joint resolution di­ recting him to recognize the so-called rebel gov­ ernment in Cuba. Twenty years later Woodrow Wilson publicly warned that he could not conduct delicate negotiations with Germany over the sub­ marine if Congress adopted, as it seemed about to adopt, certain resolutions. In 1916 Wilson re­ peated what men as diverse as Thomas Jefferson, Alexander Hamilton, and John Marshall had said earlier: in foreign affairs the republic can speak with but one voice, and that voice must be the voice of the president. Who speaks for the re­ public today on Cuba, Russia and China? and

Lieutenant in the U.S. Naval Reserve,

To

be

sure,

he

was

an

incurable

romantic

in

many things and a captive of late-Victorian stand­

ards of

morality. His ideas

on

war

sound ridicu­

aHached to the Office of Naval History. He is a member of the learned societies in his field, serves on The Ad­

lous today, and no modern politician would talk of standing at Armageddon and battling for the

visory CommiHee on Naval History for the Navy Depart­ ment, on The Advisory Committee on Foreign Relations,

Lord when he referred to

a

publication of the State Department, and

visory Committe His

on

the

Papers

The Ad­

of Woodrow Wilson.

books include Robert Dale Owen, A Biography, 1940, Elihu Root and the Conservative Tradition, 1954, The Growth of American A History, 1962; and he is

Foreign Policy, now revising for book form his Albert Shaw Lectures in Diplomatic History, given

in

April, 1963, at The Johns Hopkins Uni­

versity.

a

presidential nominat­

ing convention. It is easy to poke fun at Roose­ when as velt, and he could laugh at himself -

Elihu Root said: "The

I most admire about

thing Theodore, is your discovery of the Ten Com­ mandments," or when Finley Peter Dunne sug­ gested that Roosevelt's book on his exploits in the War with Spain be entitled Alone in Cuba. Yet he is still very much with us today and I am not thinking only of President Kennedy's fifty-mile hikes (an idea first suggested by TR) or of Mrs. Kennedy's televised tour in which the names of you,

-

NORTHWESTERN

TRI-QUARTERLY

J ames Monroe and Theodore Roosevelt stood out as renovators of the White House (and Monroe

had

more

reason

to

refurbish

after

the

British

got through with Washington in 1814).

As president, Roosevelt understood the potential of the office. to

Power and

responsibility,

he Iiked

assert, must go hand in hand. The executive

only those prerogatives which the Constitution explicitly grants to him but also those which it does not specifically assign to the legislature. Where Wilson later regarded himself as a prime minister whose function was to guide must

employ

not

through Congress

a

positive program, Roosevelt

himself

a

commander-in-chief.

saw

as

"In

a

nies, to build an American-owned interoceanic canal, to demand a favored status in liberated Cuba, to promote the open door in China. The main steps that he took in his first term choose the Panama route, to benefit

to

were

from

(though timely rebellion against instigate) Colombia on the Isthmus, to force a favorable not

a

settlement of

a

long-standing boundary dispute

with Canada, to persuade Germany and England to end a blockade of Venezuela, and to add a

corollary to the Monroe Doctrine. Some of these developments would have occurred if McKinley had lived; others had a flavor distinctly Roose­ veltian.

crisis," he wrote in 1913, "the duty of a leader is to lead and not to take refuge behind the gener­

made

ally timid wisdom of a multitude of councillors."

Roosevelt did lead, but he also drew upon the

until he had been elected in his own right in 1904.

advice of strong men like Root and Taft who were

The occasion

anything but timid. Through skillful publicity and

Korea

a

laudable cultivation of the press Roosevelt fo­ attention on the executive. Through a

cused

voluminous

correspondence with eminent citizens

and abroad, with his envoys overseas, and even with heads of state or government in at home

Europe he kept himself superbly informed. He a mobile president, and he was the first to leave the country while in office. One technique he overlooked, and probably he never forgave Wilson for reviving it. That was to deliver in person his messages to Congress, a practice dor­

was

mant since Jefferson discarded it in 1801.

As president, Roosevelt also understood the en­ larged role the republic must play in world

affairs.

Where

Grover

Cleveland

had

resisted

It was

on

his

the larger world stage that Roosevelt novel contribution to American

most

foreign policy, and the opportunity did not come

and

was

the Russo-Japanese War over and the Franco-German

Manchuria

rivalry over Morocco. In both episodes he sought promote peace because he felt a major war in any quarter of the globe could imperil American security. This notion is commonplace today; not so in 1905. When Japan attacked Port Arthur in 1904 without declaring war, Roosevelt's sym­ pathy, like that of his countrymen, lay with the Japanese. Since 1900 Russia had been the chief threat to the open door in China, whereas Japan had long been considered a protege of the United States. But when Japan's uninterrupted victories revealed the appalling weakness of the Tsar's forces in East Asia, the President feared that the balance of power there would disappear. He counted upon an equipose to uphold American in­ to

accepted invitations from both good offices to bring

stubbornly the trend toward great-power status and William McKinley had chosen reluctantly the

terests. Hence he

path of empire, Roosevelt faced the twentieth century with a bold excitement. Speaking in 1903, he said: "We have no choice, we the people of the United States, as to whether or not we shall play a great part in the world. That has been determined for us by fate, by the march of events.

All that we can decide is whether we shall play it well or ill." Roosevelt sought stability and order in his day not by paper agreements and sweeping pledges but by an equipoise of power.

More fully than most presidents, he comprehend­ ed and preached the need of correlating foreign policy and military strength. He never faltered

about

an

pleas,

Roosevelt showed a completely opposite at­

in his adherence to civilian supremacy, but he knew at first hand and respected the fighting force and the men in uniform.

The first Roosevelt did not alter markedly the basic guidelines of foreign policy. At the outset he moved cautiously. He was an accidental president

and, remembering the difficulties of others who had inherited the office Tyler, Johnson, and Arthur he promised to carry out McKinley's -

-

POlicies. He endorsed several far-reaching deci­ sions of his predecessor: to retain overseas colo-

Fall, 1963

belligerents

in 1905 to use his

end to hostilities. In

responding to such

titude from that of President Cleveland ten years

earlier

when

China

and

Japan

were

at

war.

Cleveland took the position that the conflict then raging in the Orient touched no vital interest of the United States. Thus where the peace

was

Sino-Japanese

written at Shimonoseki in 1895 under

Russian, German, and French pressure, the Rus­ peace was signed at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, in 1905 under American auspices at the request of the belligerents.

so-J apanese

Roosevelt's role in resolving the Moroccan

con­

troversy, which threatened to drag the rival alli­ into a general war, was not so Many factors were at work. But the important thing is that he was willing to venture into the forbidden arena of European power poli­ tics. He helped organize a conference at Alge­ ciras, sent American delegates, and authorized them to sign a treaty in 1906. Because of criti­ cism at home Secretary Root had to justify this attendance as protection of American trade, while the Senate appended a reservation which disance

systems

decisive.

5

claimed any intention to depart from the policy of isolationism.

An

earlier

generation of historians accused stumbling in ignorance into world

Roosevelt of

politics. Today 's verdict is

favorable.

more

Al­

though no statesmen at the time grasped all the forces

good

at

as

work, Roosevelt's perception was as anyone's, and he achieved what he set

out to do. Nor did he overestimate what he

might accomplish. Writing to the ambassador in Eng­ land in August 1905, he said: "In all these matters where I

am

asked to interfere between two for­

eign nations, all I

can

do is this.

If there is

a

chance to prevent trouble by preventing simple misunderstanding, or by myself taking the first

step

...

when it has become a matter of punctilio

with the two parties

then I am entirely willing glad to see if I can be of any value in preventing the misunderstanding from becoming acute to the danger point. If, however, there is a genuine conflict of interest which has made each party resolute to carry its point even at the cost of war, there is no use in my interfering." This ...

and

would not

seem

ambitious

very

or

effective to­

day, but in 1905 it was unprecedented. It was also enough to win Roosevelt the Nobel Peace Prize.

policies of isolationism and recognize that war or threat of

to abandon

men

the

neutrality war anywhere in the world was their concern, to join a concert of free peoples designed to keep the peace, and to agree to defend the independ­ ence and territory of any member under attack.

Wilson had failed, but in failing he left his mark on American foreign policy. The United States could never again remain indifferent: what had been the exception under Theodore Roosevelt -

to

became the rule under Wilson's successors.

Presidential procedures had also changed be­ tween 1909 and 1933. Wilson had not

only left the

country for an extended period (over seven months less a three-week return visit) but also negotiated directly with heads of government. The Great saw the beginning of the practice where foreign rulers or leaders visit Washington for ceremonial or diplomatic reasons. The interim wit­

War

nessed too the advent of radio. If that medium of mass

communication had been available in 1919

and if Wilson had chosen to

use

it rather than

exhausting transcontinental speak­ the which led to a paralyzing stroke ing tour outcome of the League fight might have been different. Finally, there had been the inevitable reaction in Congress to Wilson's broad use of presi­ embark on

an

-

-

Although Roosevelt clashed frequently with Congress on matters of policy, he aroused rela­ tively little conflict over prerogative. He was criticized for sending as delegates to Algeciras men who had not been confirmed by the Senate

dential powers in wartime, and even in 1933 the relations between the White House and Capitol

for

and talents well suited to exploit the potential of the presidency. Even more than Al Smith, he was

that purpose,

but

most

of the

critics

were

opposed to participation in any case. He did stir up protest when, as commander-in-chief, he sent the battle fleet on a practice drill from the At­ lantic to the Pacific and then kept the vessels going around the world; but the success of the feat quickly silenced objectors. The bitterest has­ sle came when he attempted to establish a cus­ toms receivership in the Dominican Republic by an executive agreement rather than by a treaty; and even when he backed down, the Senate re­ fused for two years to sanction his action. There

why this disharmony over prerogative remained in a minor key. The Re­ publicans had large majorities in both houses and were reasonably united. After 1905 Secretary were

several

reasons

Hill

Happy Warrior. Sanguine and gay, he was instinctively a leader. Despite his privileged upbringing, he had the common touch. He coined phrases that inspired his fellow men. He could say "My friends" in ten different ways. A superb speaker with a mellifluous voice, he developed the

the medium of radio with effective fireside chats.

A skilled actor with gave the when he

press

But most of

He not

under Madison and Polk and

as

there would be

Roosevelt, for it is during crises such as these men faced that presi­ Franklin

most likely to stretch their powers and countervailing force.

Now we must turn to the second Roosevelt, who entered the White House twenty-four years

dents

are

set off

after

a

his

Much had

distant

cousin

happened

and

6

also

He

traveled

constantly

conference

and

endeared himself to

cor­

excoriated him.

newspapers

with the heads

of other

states

or

govern­

Roosevelt, he understood the need to correlate foreign policy with military capability. He, too, loved the sea and the ships that sailed it. Most important of all, he viewed the presidency as a place to exercise both political and moral leadership.

On new

foreign relations. Under the stress of the Great War Woodrow Wilson had challenged his country-

still.

ments. Like the first

it.

left

of

enjoyed personal diplomacy, corresponding only with his own ambassadors abroad but

respect to

namesake

in the interim in

stood

respondents whose

there had been

and

flair for the dramatic, he moving forward even

a

impression

through the land, perhaps to 'compensate for his inability to walk unaided. He revolutionized the

as

under Wilson

by experience of the battle

influenced

Versailles Treaty.

Franklin D. Roosevelt possessed a temperament

all, there was no major crisis

Root handled the Senate with skill.

were

over the

taking office, Roosevelt did not institute a foreign policy. His immediate goals

deal in

differed little from those of the Hoover adminis­ tration. Although the depression was

NORTH WESTERN

global in its

TRI -QU ARTERL Y

ramifications, he concentrated on domestic prob­ lems and gave priority to relief, recovery, and reform. The world, of course, did not stand still he tried

as

to

build

America.

new

a

first

His

years saw the collapse of the Versailles settlement

the

and

compromise between

American

tradi­

tional principles and Wilsonian precepts. So spec­ at home

tacular were Roosevelt's initial triumphs that we forget his many setbacks abroad.

In

July 1933 the World Economic Conference broke up in failure, partly because he refused to stabil­ ize the dollar. In June 1934 the World Disarma­ ment Conference reached

a

deadlock because

no

one could reconcile Germany's demand for re­ armament with France's insistence on security.

revealing were his defeats on Capitol Hill where the Democrats enjoyed large majorities in both houses. In May 1933 he lost his bid for a dis­ criminatory arms embargo designed to discour­ age revolution and aggression. In January 1935 he More

beaten

was

on

the

World

Court

Protocol.

In

1935

he signed a neutrality law he did August not like. With many of his staunchest supporters on

domestic

matters

disagreeing with him

on

foreign affairs, Roosevelt shrank from showdowns.

Certainly he cannot be accused in these years of exceeding his constitutional authority or stretch­ ing the limits of the presidency in foreign affairs.

The

real

controversy

over

whether

Franklin

Roosevelt usurped the powers of Congress in for­ eign policy began as Europe careened toward war.

The President

to awaken the

was

appalled by his inability he

to the

people dangers which, felt, beset them. "It's a terrible thing," he said later, "to look over your shoulder when you are and to find no one there." He did trying to lead try to secure a change in the existing neutrality laws, a change which would allow the executive discretion in applying the arms embargo, a dis­ cretion that might be used against the aggressors.

Though he had wanted this discretion since 1933, and had sought it openly and by constitutional -

means, he was unsuccessful. Then the outbreak of war in September 1939 persuaded Congress to

give him half a loaf.

criticized. This

was the Destroyers-Bases Agree­ September 1940 by which the United States transferred to Britain fifty overage and de­ commissioned destroyers in exchange for ninety­ nine year leases on six Caribbean sites, suitable for naval and air bases, and the outright gift of

of

two additional

facilities

the method used,

an

executive agreement instead

Why?

of a treaty. The Senate had been bypassed.

Not

because he feared

published defeat

-

publicity Not

immediately.

-

the text he

because

was

feared

he could have mustered a two-thirds ma­

jority eventually. Rather he feared delay, a long debate during which Germany might invade Eng­ land. The tempo of war had quickened; the air age had made obsolete the leisurely processes established in 1787. Modern planes, Roosevelt had warned four months earlier, had eliminated oceans

as

defensive

moats;

bombers

modern

could hit the United States from Greenland in

a

six-hour flight.

The

Lend-Lease

Act

of

March

1941

was

the

unprecedented response to what Roosevelt believed were unprecedented dangers.

next

step in

an

Note the word "Act." Lend-Lease

was

a

law,

a

statute passed by Congress. It may have been un­

neutral; by nineteenth century standards it was.

It may have been unwise; I do not think it was.

It may have delegated extraordinary powers to the president, and it did. But it was not usurpa­ tion by the executive. It was openly debated after full hearings in both houses; it was passed by substantial majorities. It conformed to the demo­ cratic process and was flawed only by premature that assurances, implied rather than explicit, American warships would not be needed to in­ sure the safe delivery of Lend-Lease goods.

We

come now

diplomacy

war

Germany on

to the climax of Roosevelt's pre­

-

the undeclared naval

with

war

in the Atlantic and the Japanese attack Did the President

Pearl Harbor.

exceed his

powers? Did he so maneuver the situation that he robbed Congress of the right to decide whether should

war

his

be declared?

There is

much

about

in the Atlantic that may be criticized, if you agree with his basic as­ as I do

course

even

-

-

sumption that American security required that Lend-Lease goods reach England. On occasion he was not candid, even devious. He seemed afraid to tell the

people bluntly what must be done. In Secretary of War Stimson, a Re­ publican who had served the first Roosevelt, Taft, and Hoover, later expressed the opinion that in 1941 Theodore would have done a better job than Franklin.

"TR's advantage," Stimson said in "his was natural boldness, his firm convic­ 1947, tion that where he led, men would follow

this connection

With the fall of France Roosevelt took the first of several steps for which he has been severely ment

for the neutrals. What bothered many citizens was

in

Bermuda

and

New­

foundland. Little fault could be found with the provisions. They amounted to the most advanta­ geous acquisition for defense since the purchase of Louisiana. To be sure, the agreement was not consonant with traditional neutrality, but after the

.

Franklin Roosevelt

was

.

.

not made that way. With

unequalled political skill he could pave the way for any given specific step, but in so doing he was likely to tie his own hands for the future, using honeyed and consoling words that would return to plague him later."

On

September 11, 1941, Roosevelt ordered all

Nazi invasion of Holland most Americans realized

American warships to "shoot on sight" any Axis naval vessel encountered in waters which the

that traditional concepts afforded

United States deemed essential to its

Fall, 1963

no

protection

defense-

7

roughly the western half of the Atlantic. Five days later he put into effect an order, frequently canceled and long delayed, permitting belliger­ ent and neutral merchant craft to join convoys destined for Iceland and escorted by the Ameri­ can navy.

Both steps were taken publicly, but without congressional consent. Since the President

acting commander-in-chief, such consent required, though he might have been wise

was

as

not

was

to seek it. A month later Roosevelt did ask Con­ to

gress

repeal certain outdated clauses in the

neutrality laws, and by a close vote (close be­ cause of extraneous issues) that body went far­ ther

than

he

had

concessions

which

beyond

he

not

could

go

to

avoid war and there was a deadline beyond which

Japanese would not talk lest the season for amphibious operations pass. One can legitimately argue that a more flexible American policy might I do not have postponed the clash with Japan think anything could have eliminated it but that is not the same as saying that the president usurped the powers of Congress and insured war by compelling Japan to fire the first shot.

Roosevelt has also been charged with exceed­ ing his authority by promising England and the the

-

-

Netherlands to

come

to their aid

in event of

a

requested. Paradoxically, in late 1941 Congress and the people would have op­ posed a flat declaration of war against Germany,

Japanese attack in Asia. This assurance the Presi­

sizable majority favored a course that at moment could precipitate full-scale hostil­

possibly affect Japanese policy. He was, to be sure, worried lest Japan weaken Hitler's foes by

ities. This confusion persisted until Japan struck in the Pacific.

invading Malaya and the East Indies. His mili­ tary advisers told him that a Japanese conquest of parts of Southeast Asia would imperil our own security. The dilemma was what to do if Japan did so invade without attacking American soil.

That was a tough one. On November 28 the Presi­ dent and his cabinet agreed that he must go before Congress and request authority to use force to defend certain non-American territory.

He planned to do so on December 8 or 9. Ob­ viously he never had to go because the attack on Pearl and the Philippines removed the necessity.

But here Roosevelt recognized the limits of his power and was ready to request Congress to sup­ plement them. This was not usurpation.

The question of blame for the military disaster at Pearl Harbor does not properly belong in a dis­ cussion of the powers of the president in foreign

yet

a

any

The events leading to Pearl Harbor matic and

military

were

diplo­

in character and thus, consti­

tutionally, the concern of the executive. The deployment of ships and planes was the responsi­ bility of the commander-in-chief; the dialogue with Tokyo to resolve Japanese-American differ­ fell to "the chief organ of the nation in its external relations." There was more secrecy sur­

ences

rounding developments in the Pacific than in the Atlantic, but then publicity is not customary dur­ ing tense diplomatic negotiations or frantic mili­ tary preparations. Certainly Congress could not be given the intercepts of secret Japanese dis­ patches which we were able to read after break­ ing the diplomatic code. The legislature could have acted, if it had wished, on perhaps the most decisive move in the long drama the freezing -

of

Japanese beginnings embargo. This step was taken by an executive order, but it was done openly and dealt with something within congressional jurisdiction. There was, however, no protest on Capitol Hill where a "get tough with Japan policy" was more popular than in the White House or the War and Navy Departments. assets

and the

of

an

oil

Roosevelt has often been accused of wanting to enter the

through the backdoor of with provoking Japan to

European is charged strike first (thus insuring united support at home) by presenting her with impossible demands. This premise and this charge I believe are false.

Roosevelt had no desire to enlarge the war. His main aim was to help England contain and de­ feat Germany. America was unready to fight a two-front war. His military chiefs in November 1941 were begging for time, beseeching him to avoid a showdown, at least until April 1942 when they would have enough flying fortresses in the Philippines to make those islands safe from a Japanese invasion, or so they thought. The Presi­ Asia.

dent

8

war

He

concurred,

but

he

also

knew

there

were

dent consistently refused to give, at least down to December 6

when

any

such promise

affairs; but since it continues I

versy,

shall

Americans,

offer

a

few

it seems to me,

to

could not

arouse

contro­

Few

observations.

save

those under fire,

showed to best advantage in that tragedy. The was universal. At every level, from the

failure

White House to the bor

entrance,

and

errors

destroyer patrolling the har­

there

judged by the same those who lead

us

were

mistaken

judgments

of omission.

were

Not everyone was later standards, but sympathy for

made the scapegoats must not charges that a military

to accept their

defeat was staged in order to escape from a diplo­ matic impasse. Similarly, the refusal of officials in Washington to assume some of the blame must not

cause

us

to

conclude

spicable plot to hide.

that they

There

was

had

no

a

treason

de­ in

high quarters in 1941, there is no unsolved mys­ tery of Pearl Harbor. The true explanation of the debacle lies in the realm of human frailty; and since no O'1e saw the portent clearly at the time, it behooves a later generation not to be omnis­ cient after the event.

Once the United States faced

a

powers.

was

at war,

Roosevelt

problems regarding his In time of crisis presidents have always different set of

NORTHWESTERN

TRI-QUARTERLY

than so more none authority Lincoln and Wilson. The commander-in-chief acts differently in war than in peace. The line be­ tween military and diplomatic aims diminishes.

Thus Roosevelt resorted to greater secrecy. He consulted Congress less. He relied more on the Joint Chiefs of Staff than on the State Department, more on personal emissaries like Harry Hopkins than on regularly accredited ministers. Often,

stretched

their

-

associated

ideas

Amendment

was

did

Bricker

with

not

objectives, notably ments and were

a

the

Bricker

proposed

another. I believe it is well that

but

prevail; a

curb

on

of

some

executive

his

agree­

reduction of secrecy in government, response to the events

understandable

an

of 1941 to 1945.

I like to think Bricker and his associates did not

prevail because we know deep down inside that

unwise. The air age made today we would diplomacy

the United States cannot afford to hobble the pow­

call it summit diplomacy; and here the advantage offset the disadvantages. The precarious nature of

from the air age to the nuclear age to the thermo­

fighting forced him to make far-reaching de­ cisions that could not be publicized. Stresses with­ in the anti-Axis coalition compelled him to make

pand they have. There was Truman's heartrend­ ing decision in August 1945 to drop the first atomic bomb. There was his courageous and prompt de­ cision in June 1950 to repel the North Korean invader. Yet what began as a police action that did not, at first, seem to require a formal declara­ tion of war escalated into a bloody and frustrating conflict. And just as I think Truman was wise to respond as he did initially, I think he was unwise not' to seek, later, a legislative endorsement of

not

always, this

was

possible personal

-

the

broad agreements that affected the future peace.

It was impossible to debate on Capitol Hill the the wisdom

meaning of unconditional surrender,

of cross-channel invasion, and the need for Rus­ sian participation against Japan. We often forget that

the

much

conferences

criticized

at

Casa­

Quebec, Tehran, and Yalta were con­ cerned primarily with winning the war. One may rightly argue that Roosevelt became too preoccu­ pied with immediate, as against long-range goals; but it is not likely that close collaboration with Congress would have produced a different result.

In the one area where legislative support was es­ sential- membership in a postwar international the President proceeded with full organization to inform publicty Congress and educate the in a that Wilson had never done in people way 1917 and 1918. The result was overwhelming sup­

blanca,

-

port for adherence.

Some lessons

can

be learned from Roosevelt's

wartime actions. There is

no

more

difficult dip­

lomacy than the diplomacy of a coalition,

as

we

realize all too well today. The end of war is not victory on the battlefield. The fog of war en­

velops statesmen as well as generals. At several key points Roosevelt was the victim of faulty

intelligence.

On

some

occasions he carried

sec­

recy to unnecessary extremes. This was particu­ larly true at Yalta. A man with too much auth­

ority tends to lose humility and patience. Roose­ velt's

handling of sensitive Charles de Gaulle, his callousness toward a solution of the Polish question,

his

shek

China's postwar boundaries all suggest

on

willingness

to

act for

Chiang Kai­

that power demeans, if it does not actually cor­ rupt. A parallel could be drawn with Wilson who, at the end of his career, seemed to lose his politi­ cal touch and his knack of conciliation.

Perhaps might have manifested the same tendency if, at the end of his administration, he had faced a comparable crisis.

With the passing of Franklin Roosevelt an in­ evitable reaction against the powers of the president set in. The Twenty-Second Amendment

the first

Roosevelt

was one manifestation. The cluster of

Fall, 1963

ill-digested

ers

of the

president in foreign policy. As we pass

nuclear age, those powers must

what

he

had

done.

He

could

expand. And ex­

have

gotten

one

easily.

Congress has been loath, of course, to surrender its prerogatives and accept a lesser role in foreign policymaking. It tried, unsuccessfully, to alter Truman's strategy of fighting a limited war and of simultaneously stationing more divisions in Europe. Its opposition has made recognition of Communist China a political impossibility. The more tactful and soothing Eisenhower recognized this fact when in 1955 and 1957 he

sought prior congressional approval for any military move he might have to make in the Formosa Strait or the Middle East. Yet when a revolution in Iraq in July 1958 compelled him to act within hours, he merely told the leaders on Capitol Hill that the marines would land in Lebanon. And when Iraq's withdrawal from the Baghdad Pact threatened the existence of a shaky Middle East alliance, which Dulles had consistently refused to join, the Secretary then joined indirectly by concluding defensive agreements with Turkey, Iran, and Pakistan. And he did so by executive agreements, not by a treaty.

But we have gotten well beyond the two Roose­ velts

and what their

careers

tell

us

about

limits of the powers of the president in affairs. I would like to conclude with

the

foreign an

apt

quotation from one or both of those facile phrase­ makers; but in this case the appropriate senti­ ment was coined by a less gifted speaker and writer from Independence, Missouri. On the desk of Harry Truman in the White House there long stood a little white card describing the vast au­ thority of the presidency in four awesome words awesome in a day when all we hold dear can be -

destroyed THE

BUCK

in

minutes.

STOPS

Those

four

words

were:

HERE.

9

By Daniel Johnson

THE

AND parody (pare-di) n. (pl.parodies (-diz», (F'r.parodie ; L.parodia; Gr.paroidia, counter song para-, beside & oide, song), 1. literary or musical composition imitating the characteristic style of some other work or of a writer or composer. but treating a serious subject in a

And the grade report gives no solace, the instruc­

nonsensical manner, as in ridicule. 2. a poor or weak imitation. v. t. (parodied (-dtd). parodying), to make a SYN. see caricature. parody of.

There is shadow under this multi-colored rock

,

-

For Hannah

Lyons

qui n'aime pas T. S. Eliot

assistance,

Only (Come in under the shadow of this multi-colored rock), And I will show you something different from either Or your pinmate at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of paper forms. 30

INDIVIDUAL June is the cruelest month, breeding

degrees

no

Your pinmate at morning striding behind you

I. THE BURIAL OF THE

Bachelors'

tor

And the dry professor no sound of excitement.

out of the dead campus, mix-

Plenus rimarum sum, hac atque mac effl,uo "You gave me Shakespeare first a year ago;

"They called me the Shakespeare girl."

ing Commencement and job-seeking, stirring

-Yet when we came back, late, from Shake-

Dull brains with summer anxiety.

speare Garden, Your cheeks glowing, and your hair mussed, I

Winter quarter kept us warm, covering The University in forgetful snow, feeding

could not

Student life with dry lectures.

Summer

surprised

us,

coming

Stop, and my advances failed, I was neither over

Deering

Meadow With

a

shower of rain;

we

stopped in the Speech

Annex

And went

on

10

sunlight, into the Grill,

in

we

were

freshmen,

staying

at

the

dean's, My master's, he took me out in his Rolls-Royce, And I was impressed. He said, Zelda, Zelda, hold on tight. And off we went.

In Lake Forest, there you feel important.

I study, much of the night, and go to Daytona Beach in the winter.

What

are

averages

the students that clutch,

what grade

10

she, Is your card, the undergraduate on probation,

(Those are F's that were his C's. Look!)

Here is Ann-Margret, the Girl of Hollywood, 50

Here is the man with three A's, and here the

20

And here is the introverted teacher, and this

blue-books, where fluorescent

Which is blank, is some system by which he

You cannot say, or guess, for you know only

graded

staff, With a wicked pack of I.B.M. cards. Here, said

BMOC

grow

lamps flicker

Is known to be the most gung ho woman on the

The girls of B-flicks.

Out of this archaic system? Son of alum, A heap of

Miss Yearly, famous Director of Women's Has an infallible memory and

Je ne crois pas qu'elle est une vierge. when

40

Looking toward the lake fill, the money.

Quel noir.

Housing,

And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.

And

Satisfied nor dissatisfied, and I knew not why,

card, grades exams, NORTHWESTERN

TRI-QUARTERLY

The

Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find

metamorphosis

of

Pledges, by the

barbarous Greek Life

The Coach hanged in effigy. Fear death by

So

registration.

F'Illed all the house with rebellious ideas

Thank you. If you see dear Miss Campusquecn.

And still she demanded, and still the campus

Tell her I bring the beer myself:

100

rudely forced; yet there the individual

I see crowds of students, walking along the luke.

pursues,

"Join Join" to dirty ears.

One must be so careful these days.

60

Unreal University, Under the constant jack-hammering of

And other withered stumps of college life Were told upon the walls; verbose actives

Leaned there, leaning, speaking the room full.

construction workers, A crowd flowed across Sheridan Road, so many,

Footsteps stumbled on the carpeted stair.

Under the lamplight, under the brush, her hair Dangled in frizzy ends Clumped into knots, then would be angrily

I had not thought drinking had hung over so many.

Sighs, long and frequent, were exhaled,

washed.

And each man fixed his eyes on a sweater.

Flowed past Scott Hall and down University

110

"My nerves are shot tonight. Yes, shot. Stick around.

Place, To where the Alpha Chi's kept the hours

muffled sound on the final stroke of two.

With There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying: a

"Say something. Why don't you ever say anything. Huh? "What are you thinking about? About sex?

Again?

"Beret!

70

"You who were with me in Phys. G! "That brown-nosing you did last quarter in U.H.

"I always know what you're thinking about. Sex." I think we are in Fisk parking lot

304,

Where the freshmen girls lose their virginity.

"Has it paid off? Will it raise your grade?

"Or did the final exam shoot you down?

"What's that noise?"

"Oh keep the monitor far hence, that's friend

A cop checking the lot.

"What the hell's that noise? What's the cop

to no student,

"Or with his eyes he'll catch you cheating again!

doing?"

Looking again looking.

"You! professeur!-mon ami,-mon frere!"

120

"Do" ,

II. A GAME OF CHEST

'You hear anything? Do you see anything?

Don't you

The Chair she sat in, like a hardwood box,

remember

Deadened the gluteus maximus, where the coffee

"Anything?'

cup

,

I remember

Balanced on a saucer marked with small chips On which a reddish lipstick stain glared out

Those are F's that were his C's.

80

(Another hidden on the other side of the cup)

"Are you whapped, or not? Isn't there anything on

your mind?"

Doubled the danger of getting trench mouth

But

Reflecting unsanitary conditions in the kitchen as

Come O-o-o-n-n Baby, Let's Do the Twist­

Her trembling lips rose to meet it,

It's so swingin'

From a face made-up with expensive cosmetics;

So life-givin'

In containers of metal and paper

"Now what do I do? What do I do?

Uncovered, bubbled her strange poorly-mixed

"Hell, I'll rush out as I am, and walk the street "With my skirt off, like this. What are we going

sodas, Pepsi, phosphates, or secret Coke gastric, barfy And drowned the stomach in carbonation; stirred by the milk That lay in waxed cartons, these assisted -

In fattening the overweight co-ed,

Flung their effects onto bathroom scales,

Disturbing the pattern of eating habits.

Large wall-to-wall carpets fed with dirt Burned with cigarette stubs, framed by the pastel walls,

On which hung mirrors for self-indulgence.

Above the antique mantel was displayed As though anyone gave a damn

Fall, 1963

130

to do tomorrow?

"What do we always do?"

A hot bath at seven.

90

And if it rains, a closed car at And we'll playa game of chest,

eight.

Pressing hot bods and waiting for that damn cop with his flashlight.

When Judy's pinmate got de-pledged, I saidI didn't kid

around, I told her straight,

140

COME ON, LET'S GO, GRILL'S CLOSED Now that your father's coming out to see you,

shape up, He'll want to know what you did with that money he gave you

11

To buy books with. He did, I heard about it.

You spent it all, Judy, better get some

The pounding of jack-hammers, and the fact of

$3.90 an hour making them grin.

books,

He said, damn it, I can't afford

any more.

And I sure can't lend you any, I

said, and

A maintenance man tramped across the lake-fill dirt

think of your poor father, He's been with that company

Dragging his snow shovel behind him

twenty years,

While I was busy trying to figure out the Liberal

he's hard up,

Arts Bulletin

And if you don't explain about the

money, there's

others will, I said.

Is that so, she said. That's 150 right, I said.

Then I'll know who told him, she said, and gave me

a

dirty look.

On a winter afternoon round behind Deering 190

Library Thinking about my quarter on pro And about the quarter before that.

White bodies naked in the back seats of cars

COME ON, LET'S GO, GRILL'S CLOSED

And crap shooting over in Garrett,

If you don't like it you can lump it, I said.

Shaken only by the dean's approach, year to year.

Others can find ways if you can't.

But behind me from time to time I hear

But if

The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring

Daddy nobody wised him up.

You ought to be ashamed, I said, to be so selfish.

(And her only nineteen.)

I can't help it, she said, getting ticked-off, It's my childhood rearing, my parents' fault, she cuts you

off, it won't be because

said.

(She's done this five times already, and nearly got caught last quarter.)

My analyst explained it to me; but I couldn't

160

Students to parking lots in the spring.

Oh the moon shone bright on parking spaces

And

on

frenzied chases

200

They leave the cop with scattered traces Et 0 ces voix d'etudumt», chantant chaque mai!

Study Study Study Join join join join join join So rudely forc'd.

Ross Barnett

grasp it all.

You are a nurd, I said.

Unreal University

Well, if your father keeps bugging you, what the hell, I said,

Under the constant jack-hammering of

What did you come to school for if you don't know

Mr.

how to handle money?

COME ON, LET'S GO, GRILL'S CLOSED

Well, that weekend Daddy showed up, they got

smashed, And the two of them forgot all about money

-

COME ON, LET'S GO, GRILL'S CLOSED COME ON, LET'S GO, GRILL'S CLOSED See 'ya Bill. 'Nite Bob. 'Nite Sue. 'Nite.

Ciao. Ciao. 'Nite. 'Nite.

constructionmen

Lotsabucks, the Evanston merchant Cleanshaven, with a pocket full of twenties T.t.s. Evanston: shaking my hand, Asked me in colloquial English To luncheon at the Orrington Followed by a sales pitch about obtaining new student customers.

170

At the purple hour, after the bells Have rung to end classes for the day, when the student waits

'Nite, guys, 'nite, babes, 'nite, 'nite.

Like the old man's car throbbing waiting, I class prophet, though nearsighted, throbbing

III. THE SNOW JOB

between two girls,

Young man with hands seeking breasts, can see

The lake's pier is broken: the last remnants of Are eroded and washed away. The wind

At the purple hour, the strives

Crosses the barren campus, cold. The students are

Dormward, and brings the student home from

beach

home for the holidays.

The lake bears no beer cans, lecture notes, Used condoms, Daily Northwesterns, cigarette butts Or other testimony of summer nights. The

students are home for the holidays.

And their enemies, the members of the 180

-

Behind Tech I sat down and cursed

...

evening hour that 220

classes, faculty typist home at quitting time, clears her breakfast, lights Her gas range, and lays out food in Corning Ware Out of the window perilously spread Her underthings dry in the sun's last rays, On the hide-a-bed are piled (at night her stereo) Stockings, girdle, Mad Magazines, chewing gum.

I class prophet, young man with eager hands Saw this bit, and imagined the restThe

Erode away, damn it, till I finish my bitching.

faculty At home, are grading final exams.

I too waited for the expected guest.

Erode away, damn it, till I finish my bitching,

He, the young student horny, arrives,

Erode away, damn it, I'm almost through.

A short cat in Speech, with hungry eyes,

But behind

12

me

I hear the construction workers

210

Some wiseass who thinks he's sharp

NORTHWESTERN

TRI-QUARTERLY

On the floor of some eat's Cadillac."

Like some of those longhair drama majors.

His timing is great, he figures,

"My feet are at Allison, and my tradition

She's through eating, she's bored and easy,

Under my feet. After the affair

Tries to slip a hand into her dress

He laughed. He promised 'a new position.'

Which he does, though inaccurately.

I made no comment. What did I care?"

"With Indiana Sands.

Hot and bothered, he tries her;

240

Fumbling hands are not discouraged; His maleness requires a response,

300

I can get

Nothing for nothing.

And makes the most of the offering.

The terrible cost of filled-in lands.

(And I class prophet have been there Right on this same hide-a-bed ;

My adviser satisfies people who expect Nothing."

I who have sat outside deans' offices

go go

And walked among the independents.)

Lays one last kiss on her, And stumbles down the apartment stairs She turns and looks a moment in the glass, Quite aware of her departed lover; Her brain allows one thought to pass; "Well I finally did it: I'm sorry it's over."

When a faculty typist resorts to students and Paces about her room again, alone, She smooths her hair with trembling hand, And calls his house mother on the phone.

To Columbus then we came

Fighting fighting fighting fighting

...

o Coach You won that game

250

o Coach You won

310

fighting IV. DEATH BY REGISTRATION Melvin the Music Major, registered on time,

Forgot the time schedule, and the schedule cards And the books and fees.

"This jazz drifted by me upon the gutters"

Pre-registration

And along the sidewalk, up Foster Street.

Closed his courses in minutes. As he passed the

o University university, I can sometimes hear Inside a public bar on Howard Street,

guards 260

The swinging sound of a juke-box

He counted his class cards once again

Entering the check-out area.

And a chugging and a mugging from within

Grad or Undergr ad

Where seniors drink at midnight: where the walls

o you who stand in line and wind your watch,

Of Talbott's hold

Remember Melvin, who was once eager and on

320

time as you.

Unexpected knotty pine varnished and old.

The lake floats

V. WHAT THE W.e.T.U. SAID

Fish and bugs The barges carry

After the spotlights white on surprised faces

Rock to the lake-fill

After the snowball fights in the streets

White sails

270

Still

At Lee Street, look odd on tugs.

The shouting and the jeering

Dormitory and apartment and renewal

The barges carry

Of sirens of police cars around familiar corners

Tons of rock

He who was shouting is now running

Down Clark Street beach

We who were shouting are now leering

Past the U.H. clock.

Though from a distance

Wildcats go

330

Here is no beer but only Pepsi

Wildcats win

Pepsi and no beer and the asphalt street

Miller and Doney

Beating doors

After the panty raids in freshman places

280

The asphalt street winding between the buildings

Their sterns were formed

Which are buildings of Pepsi without beer

In cushioned chairs

If there were beer we should stop and drink

Purple and white

Amongst the Pepsi one cannot stop or think

Their thinning hair

The town is dry and teetotallers are in the city

council

Repulsed the whores Ticker tape

If there were only beer amongst the Pepsi

Counted out loud

Lousy building full of aldermen who will not vote Here they always get my goat 340 There is not even action in the buildings But long boring speeches without results There is not even democracy in the buildings But pale stupid faces grin and smile From doors of expensive houses

The advance of shares

Ivory towers Wildcats go Wildcats win

"El trains and elm trees.

Chicago bore me. Madison and Fond du Lac Undid me. In Madison I raised my knees

Fall, 1963

290

If there

were

beer

13

And no Pepsi

The student body waited, sitting anxiously.

If there were Pepsi

Then

And also beer

DRY

And beer

Dry: what have we gained?

My friend, shaking my 1.0. card The awful daring of a moment's rebellion

A six-pack A barrel among the Pepsi

spoke the W.C.T.U.

400

If there were the sound of beer only

Which is short-lived and never effective

Not the W.C.T.U.

By this, and this only, we have existed

And church choirs singing

Which is not to be found in our commencement

But sound of beer from a tap

invitations

Where the student sings in the taverns

Or in year books censored by the beneficent

Slurp chug slurp chug chug chug chug

administration

But there is no beer Who's the clown who

Or in dresser drawers opened by the house maid

always walks with you? 360

In our vacated rooms

410

When I'm around, there's only you and I together

DRY

But when I see you from a distance

Drier: I have heard the counselor

There's always this clown walking with you

Turn and go in the corridor and turn and go

Talking dressed in a brown suit, tweed I don't know whether an SAE or a Sigma Nu So who's that clown who always walks with you?

-

Thinking of the counselor, each confirms a room Only at nightfall, aethereal rumours DRY

Hammer of handsome wages

Driest: The old ladies responded

Who are those book-toting broads swarming

stumbling on cracked

sidewalks

only

Revive for a moment a broken Regulation

What is that noise coming from the lake

From endless doors,

once

We think of the counselor, each in his room

370

Ringed by the frat men only What is the university over the buildings Student unions and humor magazines and riots in the purple air Losing influence

Gaily, to the speaker expert with word and 420 logic The auditorium was quiet, your soul would have responded Angrily, when challenged, opposing mightily Their controlling hands I sat upon the shore

Reading, with the lifeless campus behind me

Minnesota Iowa Purdue

Shall I at least set my courses in order?

Michigan Wisconsin

Pearson Hall is falling down falling down

Unreal

falling down Fata viam inveniunt

A co-ed drew her long black hair out tight

o Willie Willie

And played folk music on those strings

What if the homecoming queen is a lesbian!

And cats with bearded faces in the purple 380 light and had their Listened, flings And walked head uplifted down a well-lit street And back in the dorms were showers

430

These facts I have stored in my notebook.

Why then damn it all. The student senate is mad again.

Dry. Drier. Driest.

Shut up shut up shut up

Dripping familiar leaks, that kept up for hours And voices singing out of empty Teem machines and exhausted candy vendors.

In this dismal hole among the buildings

NOTES ON THE VAST LAND

In the faint moonlight, the church choir is singing

Over on south campus, about the chapel There is the new chapel, only the icon's home.

It has no purpose, and it's ugly besides, Rich alums can harm everyone.

Only a liberal stood on the corner Hear me hear me hear In a show of spirit. Then an Evanston cop

Bringing a warrant Courage was punished, and the apathetic students

Waited for graduation, while the discontented ones

Gathered together, over in the Hut.

14

390

Not only the title, but the plan and a good deal of the incidental symbolism of the parody were suggested

by T. S. Eliot's The Waste Land (1922), the precursor of modern symbolic poetry, and one of the most power­ ful and magnificent poetic works ever created. Indeed, so deeply am I indebted, Mr. Eliot's poem will

elucidate

the

than

notes

of the parody much better and I recommend it (apart from the great interest of the poem itself) to any who think such elucidation of the parody worth the trouble.

The subject matter of the parody was chosen because of its relevancy to my present situation and, of course, that of Miss Hannah Linda Loretta Lyons, to whom it is dedicated. Although some may find reason to object to my bastardizations as well as my often (not really) unjustified pricks at the great helium-filled balloon of my

difficulties can

do;

university administration, injury

was

NORTHWESTERN

not

my

purpose.

TRI-QUARTERLY

I am not retracting anything, but there are places in the work where distortion served my purposes much more readily than real situations would have.

I. The Burial of the Individual 31. Terence, Eunuchus, 1, ii. 25.

I leak on every side."

"I

am

full uf cracks,

49. One of many names appearing in university prop­ aganda which is associated with the Great Ameri­ can Dream Dump in southern California.

68. A phenomenon which I have often observed first­ hand.

74. Cf. any of several species of large, flesh-eating lizards of Africa, southern Asia, and Australia: so called from the notion that they warn of the presence of crocodiles (lecturers).

II. A Game of Chest 98. Some do.

100.

Actually, this

process is and good manners.

ness

characterized

by polite­

115. A prevalent myth (?)

138. Cf.

the game of chest

in

Johnson's Guide

to

En­

Lightened Living.

III. The Snow Job 186. Estimated.

191. Winter quarter, 1960-61.

202. Cf. May Sing.

209. Cf. manager, Grabdo Dept. Store 211. Thanks to students.

218. Class prophet, to my knowledge, is not an official student office at N.U. 257. Overheard in the No Exit Cafe.

264. An excellent pub on Paulina St. Try the ribs.

V. What the W.C.T.U. Said 358. Cf.

Talbott's, Hamilton's, The Candlelight, and others, esp. Wednesday and Friday nights.

402. 'Dry, drier, driest.' The fable of the meaning of Evanston is found in the liquor stores of Skokie.

428. Virgil, Aeneid, III, 395. "The Fates find a way."

434. Shut up. Repeated, as here, a formal ending to this parody.

;· : f·-·

Russell Warren

Nystrom

-

His

"The Vast Land" made

campus circles.

He

was

a

considerable stir in

invited to read it in several

classes and copies of the manuscript have been in de­ mand. The close parody of Eliot's "The WaSte Land" be­ comes, ingeniously, a satire on the various levels of

collegiate life.

THE BURNING CRIME

Red, orange and yellow sun spots Burn still into my shuttered eyes

After graduating from DePauw University in 1959, where he studied

psychology and sociology, Russell Warren Nystrom worked for two years in a psychiatric ward of local hospital in order to fulfill as a conscientious an alternative Service obligation. He is mar­ ried, has three children, and has been taking courses in

a

Faricy Award for poetry at Northwestern, and is now editing new novels published in paperback by Novel Books, Inc. in Chicago.

After attending high school in Evanston, where he was born, he ;oined the U.S. Navy and had two years of duty af/oat. He served on an ammunition ship and a tanker, touching at ports in Cuba, Scotland, England, France, Portugal, and Spain, and at Mediterranean a ports in Italy, Sicily, Sardinia, Greece and Turkey good deal of traveling. His freshman year was at Ken­ dal/ College, where he was named a member of Phi Theta Kappa, the National Junior College Scholastic Honorary Society.

POEMS

/

,.

Daniel F. Johnson, L.A. '63, was co-winner of this year's

Though I am in a cluttered closet Full of dinner jackets and moth balls With my head upon a rubber boot That jabs its buckle into my neck.

-

ob;ector

Yet I dare not scratch or stretch for fear

-

literature in Northwestern's Evening Divisions.

Of tumbling off this pillow altogether On to the dusty wood floor so far away.

I can not remember if the door is locked or

I'M TERRIBLY SORRY

If I am some fallen suit of winter underwear.

Under what marker that I have not seen

I have forgotten all the cotton summer clothes

Lies my dream in her disfigured reality

And can remember only these drab

Her slender innocence called me from among the cattle

Into this foreign land where I am lost and alone

Fall, 1963

heavy wools That hang long as my long covered hours that

Drape over this precarious and stuffy vigil Imposed on me for my naked search into that sun.

15

REBUTTAL

AND ON THE SEVENTH DAY

Go away in the woods somewhere gone away Like Thoreau or like that Babbitt

On the seventh day the factory rests

Near by an empty warehouse

You'll come back to me.

And a lonely stranded box car

Go away in the woods somewhere

While the dust of six days settles slowly.

gone away

I have plenty of frightened shoes

There are no people to color

Scraping off their dirt on me.

The cyclone tan and grey stillness; There are no people except the three

Clean still the green somewhere gone away

You'll sell it all for

Who

on

the

seventh

day inherit the discarded

world.

Butchered meat and secret waste.

Though he is in the somewhere gone away You'll come back to nest in

And the old man is the old man

Whom all have seen and smelled And given a dime to make him go away

Mother's sweating fat hand.

From all the driving plastic days before.

A DREAM FROM THE MEADOW

And the fat old woman has an old fat woman's

Flowered and faded kerchief covering her head

From

And her eyes are bland and staring

Where I know not came

Into a far preoccupation of tired vacancy.

A delicate yellow bird

Yet the boy would shuffle if he walked at all

Singing

Because his feet are lonely for the unknown sea

Light

And his eyes are ever watching

She manifest in song

For the stray cat that he does not miss,

And in her harmony Color

Three parenthetical forms in a tableau

Alone

Listening to the slowing of the dust They are always the same, the same three On an empty waiting seventh day street.

She winged towards me

Completing this solitude of

And still. And still again the remnant stench

Form

Of the factory fills the hollow warehouse

With

THE FATHERLAND LET FALLOW what regret that dwells beneath the earth unspent ghosts that sense the grass's new lush to common maturity

and orange fluttering wind

mild and useless desire to house

WAITING IN A CLOSET ON A SLOW SUNDAY

the pregnant blossom's turning that smells eventually of brown nuts

a

The stranded traveler until yet another day.

Search search search search searching I am the stuffed full man

then disappears undercover to be the new ghost

I have just eaten Shakespeare and Freud

of Spring unrealized

Nor were they polite at table

my name continues new but oh my miserable eyes

We are the stuffed full men

that see too little not to hunger

Now with tight belly I play hide and seek

and see too much not to sleep

With my children who never find

AN OCCASION FOR NEARNESS

It travels from an ancient depth up through the root searching for the small pore

that flowers into one pregnant scent forcing song to open the throat of a waiting bird that startles up an insect fly from its dark habit

and calls the worm to open the earth hole into fertility as

16

my eyes open wet through the happy slime of this

slippery joy.

NORTHWESTERN

TRI-QUARTERLY

BY HERBERT COMESS

photographs

Herbert Comess came to Northwestern in 1959 as Staff

Photographer and his work has contributed substantially to The Tri-Quarterly. For this issue the editors invited him to show some of his independent work, and the pictures on

these pages are the ones which he has chosen. He

presents them without titles

lieves that

a

photograph

or

comments since he be­

should stand

as

a

separate

statement. His favorite examples have not always been of University scenes or persons.

A native Chicagoan, he enlisted in the Air Force and served for four years as Information Specialist attached to t'he

wing which had dropped the first atomic bomb and which, at the time of his service, kept its live atomic

bombs in a building next to his office. The journal which he edited was called The Atomic Blast.

He

was

a

philosophy major at Roosevelt University a civilian photo­

(B.A. '55), after graduation became

grapher for scientic research for the U.S. Government, worked in New York on magazine photography (ad­ vertising), and was later aHached to the Commercial Division of United Press International.

Fall, 1963

17

18

NORTHWESTERN

TRI-QUARTERLY

Fall, 1963

19

20

Fall, 1963

21

by Barry G. Brissman

THE DEATH Barry G. Brissman, whose liThe Pond" appeared in the

I.

spring issue of this magazine, holds the J. Scott Clark

Scholarship, awarded for literary merit. He is interested in problems of style and craftsmanship. In the story below the shift in narrative person after the twenty

year

time gap is unorthodox but, as he explained to his class­ mates, lithe immediate intensity of the first person seemed right for the way I wanted to make Jonathan return after

so many years./I Brissman is a senior in the College of Liberal Arts, ma­

joring in English and serving as an undergraduate editor of The Tri-Quarterly. His home is in

Naperville, Illinois.

.

.

and

.

forkful of

Lloyd was

way and land

leaned

on

in the

stall;

at intervals

a

would appear out of the door­ the back of the spreader. Boris

manure on

the tractor wheel

were the same

smoking cigars that

short stubby shape as himself.

"Nope, you're wrong," Boris said. "If ya' want people to remember you, slap 'em in the face.

Yup, slap 'em in the face, and then ya' can bet they'll remember ya'."

The spreader was full and Lloyd came out of the stall shaking his head and looking at the floor as he walked. "Me, I'll get along with folks.

Ya' ain't never dead long as someone remembers and thinks kindly my brother al'us said that."

The thin figure limped to the tractor and climbed on clumsily. Jonathan slid the doors open; amid the roar of the engine echoing off the walls the -

rig slowly passed out into the light

snow, Lloyd perched atop the tractor like a sparrow. A minute

later he was dead.

Somehow they all knew that eventually it would

happen. In the first month he'd come to work he'd the four fingers off of his left hand while trimming firewood with a power saw. And he limped because once he'd turned his back on the bull. And there were all the little things. Lloyd himself always said he was unlucky never com­ cut

-

plained about it, just mentioned it ruefully from time to time and he never understood why.

-

But

the

rest

of

them

understood

and

weren't

surprised when it finally happened that winter.

The tractor slid into the ditch and turned over and crushed his chest.

They forgot about it pretty quick, but in the back of the mind it lingered, especially for those who'd been there and

seen

him all crushed out of shape

under that tractor.

said,

the

words

Mostly it was what he had having barely died on his lips

before he himself

was

dead:

"Ya'

NORTHWESTERN

ain't

never

TRI-QUARTERLY

long as someone remembers and thinks kindly." In the back of the mind it lingered. dead

lip and bruised "Had

and

.

Jeanie

after

him;

beside

was

"What happened to you?"

eye.

he asked. little trouble,"

a

Arly said.

"Looks like."

till'

spring rain the scent of sweet clover carne to him the sweet as she was, as delicate and as

"Yeah, I was walking home passing in front of Toby's just as Bill Larson was coming out, and

clover that she always called her favorite smell.

They walked along the dirt road that ran through the fields. Behind them the clump of farm build­

I

deep

and

loomed

trees

indistinct

in

the

dusk;

ings lights twinkled along the highway in the distance.

It was their third year, and feeling her small hand in his, hearing her voice beside him, Jona­ that

knew

than

pretty

soon,

when

got the

he

money, he would ask her. They walked slowly; the dirt road was soft underfoot.

"What about your brothers?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Jonathan said. "When Arly graduates from high school this spring I suppose he'll stay here and help me do the farming. Pa can't ever work again with his heart like it is.

Arly and I will take over the farm eventually,

of

him

I

Jonathan shook his head. "He

cared for

never

month and he'll have to tell

make

us

then,

sure. Pa always says Ben good farmer. I think Pa's

a

"

right.

Jeanie lifted her eyes from the road and looked up at him. "You didn't used to

well the year just before he left, did you?

Mavbe it's just as well he won't be working

with you." awful

was

Jonathan

wild,"

said.

"He

then her voice

came

silence, and small and thin, hesitating.

"Sometimes it's not so bad to be wild." Jonathan

nothing, but

stopped walking he something to tell you," she said. She bit her lip. "I think we should go out with other people." when

she

turned to her and waited.

Silence for else that you

"No,

"I have

moment, then: "Is there

a

someone

"

was

well, I

guess

sorry

and,

_

beer

can

I

told

_

I

lost

"Now what you gonna' do, Jonathan? He

was

drunk." But Jonathan kept walking and Arly fol­ lowed him, climbed into the pick-up beside him.

Jonathan

drove

of the

out

yard fast and Arly

started again. "I don't think you ought to make a thing of it, because he was drunk, after all, and I mean, it ain't his fault, "Whose fault is it, yours?"

really."

make allowances. It ain't that I'm afraid of him."

"I know you ain't

afraid, but he's thirty years

old, and he ought'a know better. If he's drunk, he got himself that way."

"Well, I wouldn't make an enemy over it," Arly said slowly. "Seems we'd do best to forget it; he'd do

the same, I think." kept his eyes on the road.

Jonathan

"I

don't

forgive him; it don't work that way."

They parked in front of the bank and got out.

Jonathan was not much bigger than Arly about an inch taller, a little wider. "But he was harder

one

all.

two

was

years

older.

Larson's

car

was

parked in front of Toby's. Larson was lean­

ing on the fender. A beer can was in _his hand.

It happened fast. Jonathan said, "Larson!" (the man turning and looking at him dumbly, Jonathan nodding toward Arly) "You cut my brother up like that?"

Larson set his beer

the

car

and

can

down

on

the hood of

straightened up his hulking body.

But before he

else, really. It's just I'm not sure.

hit

"Oh." He tried to smile, put both hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. "Okay," he said.

His voice was a whisper. "I understand." was

still

"Yeah," he said. "He bumped _"

...

The love part."

That

fight

"C'mon," he said.

and he

had any time for farming."

For a moment there was only

no

a

_

never

said

the

picked

Jonathan dropped his wrench in the dirt and

get along with Ben

too

"Ben

knocked

he

stood up, wiping the grease off his hands with a rag. He started walking towards the pick-up.

gets

when he's decided for never

and

So

"No. Nobodys, I suppose. Maybe I'll be drunk and do things and I'll want folks to

the farm. I don't think he'd be interested. He

will

him

hand.

sometime

"Oh. And Ben?"

a

his

mostly."

I suppose."

back in

into

bumped

out

They turned around and walked

him

right

hard

arm;

in

the

could finish Jonathan hit the left

face.

He

hung

relaxed

swung at

him,

with

the

his

side.

As Larson staggered back against the car Jona­ than hit him again, then turned away and walked back to the

pick-up without watching him slump

back to the farm and Jonathan drove her back

to the pavement.

to

People were on the street as there always were quitting time. They were standing talking, or walking along casually, or getting out of cars and going into the drugstore to buy the paper,

town.

Even

along the road the warm wind whipping through the window brought the scent of sweet clover

.

.

.

strong and clean.

and Arly was late getting home from school.

Jonathan, working by the shop putting new cut­ ters on the mower sickle, looked up when Arly walked

over

Fall, 1963

to

him, and he

saw

Arly''« bloody

about

or

into the

grocery

store

for

a

quart of milk

.

happened fast and not many of them noticed. Jonathan and Arly got into the pick-up and drove off, the engine whining its metallic But

it

23

whine

they turned into the stream of traffic highway, heading into the sun.

as

the

on

..

and Ben

home after two years; it was morning in June. He looked strap­ was

early Sunday ping in his uniform

he

as

came

smiling

up

the

front walk and leaned over and kissed Ma. There

something very human about Ben, some­ thing winning. Everyone felt it.

That morning he went to church with Ma. He'd traveled all night and the uniform was a little

was

rumpled, but he insisted, and he went to church the way he always used to. Jonathan couldn't go because there were sixty acres of alfalfa to be Ma

cut.

disappointed that

was

his

brothers

own

couldn't at least go to church with Ben and give thanks on the day he came home safe from the

Army. So Arly went along to help keep the peace.

Arly always kept the peace.

For about

a

week Ben just loafed,

helped in the

fields when he felt like it, slept when he felt like it. And he drove around and talked to the neigh­

bors, leaning on a fencepost or a truck or a trac­ tor, telling about women and guns, how he hated the guns and loved the women. "Who wants to be

fighting when

you

can

be

loving,

anyway?"­

that's what he always said, even before he went away to the Army. And now he was confirmed in the

opinion.

He didn't

care

much for the

Army,

that's what he said. And he told about the not

en

with

fondness, Ben

ture.

talked the

braggadocio, kind of

a

rather with

sensuousness

told

everything

men

listened and

as

a

that

wom­

a

kind

of

was

his

na­

When

he

joke.

in everything that he found beautiful and clean was in the scent of

-

and good. But most of all she

planted amongst the al­ just east of the house. It drifted through the sultry days and was carried on the evening breeze, intoxicat­ ing. Somehow he felt that, whatever happened, she would always be the same Jeanie, changeless the sweet clover. It

was

falfa, and there was

a

as

June passed. It

evening right after supper by the gas tanks filling his tractor. Ben came across the lawn and through the hedge and out to him, dressed in white pants and a light blue shirt open at the collar. He put his hand

You met her?"

"No. 1 saw Jeanie in the drugstore the other day, though. And she's real nice. And beautiful; not like 1 remembered."

"I guess 1 told you about

laughed.

Ben pulled

days straight he helped them

and

beat digging trenches with a shovel. And then he'd heave a hay bale up to Arly who was stand­

a

ing

bed; that

load

was

off

tiers

the

high eight signal for Jonathan,

the

wagon a

game

they played. He'd holler for Ben to stand back and watch a man do it, and then he would heave Ben

and

thin

too, working started looking for a job in the city. It was a fif­ teen mile drive each way, and he spent the day Then

the

wore

back at night. But he didn't find that suited. And there was a blond that

there and

came

anything began keeping him out till three and four in the morning, so he didn't get started the following day until nearly noon.

Jonathan got the first cutting of alfalfa in that month, and he plowed up a twenty acre piece of summer

fallow that hadn't been done in the fall.

Working alone far out in the fields he thought of Jeanie.

He

saw

her

in the cold

ings, in the black earth flowing

brilliant before the

share, in the hawk turning slowly in

24

chunk of dried mud off the tire

a

grinned. "I don't think you have to worry, brother," he said. "She still loves you. Give her little time and she'll show it."

Jonathan looked hard at the warm sincerity in the upturned face. "I hope you're right, Ben." "You bet I'm right. Hey. Remember that time in high school Freddy Dunn made a crack about and you laid into him and got your ears

her

pinned back?"

bale.

a

that," Jonathan said.

"Yeah. She asked about you."

"Oh ?"

hay. Sometimes he'd straighten up and look across the flat land and say how this work sure

the

the fender and looked up at Jona­

on

"Why don't you come in to town with me tonight? It's the Fourth of July, you know.

Should be big doings."

The mosquitoes were coming out; Jonathan brushed his neck with his hand. "I really gotta' get the rest of that little piece up north baled.

It's dry tonight, so it should go pretty good. Be­ sides, 1 don't feel much like going out. Ask Arly."

Ben's upturned face was blurred in the half­ light as he spoke. "He's got a date, so he's tak­ ing the pick-up by himself; hope his girl isn't fussy about what she rides in."

Jonathan grinned. "She's not. She's real nice.

haul

on

was

was

than.

talking and the loafing wore thin, Finally and he began to spend more time working in the For several

the land.

and Jonathan

the

field.

whole field of it

a

morn­

plow­ sky

blue

"Yeah. And then you laid into Freddy Dunn and broke his nose, and old Mr. Jackson called up Pa and lectured him that his boys were the most

violent

he'd

seen

and

uncontrollable

and

everything else."

Ben looked at his watch. "Well, let's go. Run in the house and grab a shower; 1 don't want to wait all night for ya'."

"Not tonight."

"For

Pete's

and

sake.

Any

other

night

you

don't

the Fourth of July you decide to work, work late. Snap out of it."

Jonathan gas

cap

on

pulled the hose

back

on.

"What

out and screwed the

d'you plan

on

doing

tonight?" he asked.

NORTHWESTERN

TRI-QUARTERLY

shrugged, letting his hand slip from the fender and putting both hands in his pockets.

"Just pick up something and have a little fun Ben

with her, I suppose."

"You trusting to liquor or charm tonight?"

"Well, if charm don't work,

I

that'll knock the virtue out of

a

got

stuff

some

school

Sunday

teacher. Three bottles of it, in fact. Come along and I'll show you how an expert heats up cold

country girls."

Jonathan smiled and dropped to the dirt on the other side of the tractor. "Not tonight," he said.

And he walked to the front end and put a hand the crank.

on

.

"All right," Ben said, "but I think it would do you good." He turned and walked off across the yard, his white pants ness

into the darkness

far

off

sounds,

in

the

he moved away. From came a series of popping

town

the first

rubbing shadowy white­

as

firecrackers.

Jonathan whirled

the crank; the engine roared.

The field took longer than he'd figured. Long after the fireworks from the town had ceased

blazing and popping and spraying silver in the sky he was still gr.nding along in the darkness,

"

God's

sake, Jonathan, for God's sake don't And then Jonathan was standing over him, he kill. was to The back of the knowing going hook thudded dully on the crown of Ben's head, and Ben stopped trying to crawl away. The hook ...

went up once more and came down hard on the

temple.

Jonathan stood up,

the

baler

the

where

windrow

of

hay

ears

in the sudden silence when he shut off the

rang

engine

and started

across

the

yard

in the direction of

the

When

he

got

to

house.

the

he

hedge

remembered he'd kept in the cow with the cut leg, and he turned back, his boots crunching

softly in the dirt as he headed toward the barn some hay. The moon was down out of sight in the west already, and the build­ ings, the gas tanks, the hedge, the trees were all a single hazy shadow. He liked it that way, dark and quiet, like sleeping. The ladder was just inside the door; as he stepped inside he flicked on the aisle lights and the mow light to throw down

simultaneously,

and put his hand

on

moment before

-

and there

was

as

more

from

an

than the

horror. When he dropped the hook soundlessly into

the hay her face went into her hands. He heard the sobbing as he stumbled down the ladder and out

ran

of the barn.

He was running through the warm night, through the fields, toward nowhere really, but toward the tracks in the distance where the freight trains passed, he thought. There were tears in his eyes, and he ran insensible through the dark­ ness. Only the smell of liquor and sweet clover lingered in his brain. And he ran and ran and ran

...

II.

was

swallowed up. And then finally the last foot of windrow had disappeared and it was eleven o'clock and Jonathan went home. His

a

strange kind of horror in her face, awful realization

the headlights making a streak down the field and the light on the fender shining backwards at

and for

he turned away he looked at her. He was close to her now and he smelled the liquor on her breath above everything else. There was a

the ladder

and climbed.

Jeanie and Ben were there. For a fraction of instant he was just startled, and then came

an

It was

a

little after five when I left the city; the

lights were just going off; the sky was be­ ginning to tum pink in the east. Once I was on the road it was as if I were leaving it all behind forever, like awakening from a dream and re­ turning to life. Knowing that in two weeks I would be back again didn't change the feeling.

The glass door bearing my name on the twenty­ third floor of the General Foundry and Manufac­ turing Building; the silent, thick-carpeted apart­ ment with daily maid service they were for­ street

-

gotten. That existence didn't matter, just had

as

it

mattered. I wanted to go home again. a long time since that summer night I had

never

It was

hopped a freight and disappeared from the val­ ley, and now there were things that needed find­ ing out. But mostly I wanted to feel the pain again, because the pain was better than nothing, and for twenty years I had felt nothing.

It was

August. The driving was north and west,

the realization, like ice water sluicing over his heart and contracting it. Their white bodies

two lane

highway all the way. Coffee at ten in a

glared beneath the dim bulb high overhead, and

cafe.

Miles

he

suddenly it was six o'clock and the sun was

saw

the

them

ladder.

fragrance of the

stepped

off

then

over

the

coming into the last stretch of sky and I was turn­

clover and alfalfa.

Two

ing off of the highway. The old dirt road was graveled now, and as I turned onto it I could see

he

the

empty bottles lay alongside of where they lay.

Ben was on his side now, looking at him. They were

fear

both looking at him, annoyance and a little in Ben's eyes, and only horror in hers.

A bale

hook hung

the top of the ladder.

Jonathan took it in his hand and moved toward them. Ben started to scramble and shouted, "For

Fall, 1963

on

shop, and lunch at a roadside heat-shimmering pavement. And

had

smelled sweet

of

liquor

almost before

He

small town coffee

in the distance the cluster of trees and the roofs of the barns peeking through them. A big drain­

ditch cut its

way through the half section, passing just south of the farm. It hadn't been

age

there before. So

even

the land itself

changed­

slowly, but it changed.

25

Sunlight slanted greenly over the made the man on the tractor a black

fields

and

spot against

the expanse of a flat world. He was cultivating rows of soybeans. I stopped at the side of

long

the road and walked through the ditch and into the field. The bean plants were high and bushy, wouldn't need cultivating any more after I

this, thought. I waited at the end of the row, working a soybean stem in my teeth, listening to the pop­ ping of the engine grow louder. When he got next to me he stopped and idled down, and I saw shock write itself across his face. Abruptly he shut off the tractor. As the silence swept in around us he muttered, "Jonathan!"

I let the stem fall from my lips. "Hello, Arly. I thought it might be you; I hoped it would be; so

I

stopped." a long time," he said slowly. time," I agreed. "The folks, how

spoke slowly: "And your oldest is Ben's."

"Ben's son," he said, "and my son. He's twen­ ty now. We were married twenty years ago."

"And you married a woman with another man's

heard. There

"He "I

my brother."

murdered

"We

are

my brother," I said. different," he said. And whenever he

spoke Arly

was

been

boy.

as

a

gentleness, the

The sounds of the

mourning dove

a

say

anything about

same

as

he had

evening began to drift to us on the highline wire and about it?"

-

was

no

way to

shock

and

passed

he

"How

are

you,

but

I

hadn't

hear."

became

Jonathan?

You

was

one

you

-

-

never

easy.

look

a

just going in," he said. "The work is

pretty much

caught up. Crop looks real good this good last year."

"This used to be alfalfa, didn't it?" I looked was

toward the farm. "And up there where the wheat

now.

She's my wife. She has her life.

"No," I said. "No,

" ...

I wouldn't."

"I'm

sorry it has to be this way," "that we can't talk longer, and all."

like

back to the farm."

said. But that was a long time ago. She has

family

You wouldn't want her to

He

you're doin' okay." He nodded toward my Lin­ coln parked up on the road.

"Can't complain," I said. "And you. You work­ ing late these days? It's after six. You always used to be the first

slowly. "At first there times, well, when I think she thought about a kind of sadness about her though she

were

leaned forward and clasped his arms around the top part of the steering wheel, looking down at

year,

was

crickets in the grass of the ditch. "Does she ever are

"N 0," he said. "I guess not. Pa died the year after you left, Ma the year after that."

"I

"

child.

"No." He shook his head

"Both dead; you didn't know?"

I shook my head. "I guessed,

me.

They all treated everybody, even her

me.

town and

I

they?"

The

dirt, the

family; all except for me, because I guess I loved her just from hearing you talk about her. She's been a fine wife, all a man could ask."

-

"It's been "A long

pregnant and she needed her like

he

said,

"Who do the kids' look like?" I asked.

Arly scratched his whiskered chin. "The oldest looks like Ben and the other boy like her; I guess the girl takes after me. That's what they say."

"Ben's son and your son," I said. "And you have a boy and a girl." Arly was looking at me intently. I went on half to myself, knowing he al­ ready understood what I was saying. "So Ben isn't the

one

that's dead. And

even

now

I don't

regret, because it had to be that way, I suppose, because that's the way I am. I don't regret;

is, east of the house, what happened to the alfalfa

mostly just envy you, and Ben too. Is there still

and sweet clover?"

talk about

Arly shrugged.

"No

more

cattle,

no

more

hay.

I sold the herd ten years back. Come to think, I don't believe I've seen a sprig of sweet clover in

the

whole

"I and I

valley

suppose

grinned

I

said,

at him.

He grinned back. and a girl."

"And three kids.

Two boys

a

salesman

or

something."

Arly didn't answer but looked away across the fields. And then he looked back to me, speaking gently, deliberately: "There is something you don't know," he said. "Jeanie is my wife."

I only stared

blankly, feeling my pulse beating

my temples, feeling my hands go cold. And then I realized he was still talking; I heard his at

voice coming soft to my

26

ears:

" ...

Don't make them. It's

They've all forgotten about you."

"It's getting late," I said. "You better get home. She'll be waiting dinner for you."

I walked back to my

and she was

and drove away slow­

car

ly; the warm night air breezed through the open windows.

"I'd like to meet them," I said. "I mean, just for a minute if I followed you into the yard and you said I was

nize you and remember. over.

this

year." you're married by now,"

it, about the murder?"

Arly always spoke softly: "Go away from here, Jonathan. There are too many people to recog­

And

over

and

over

his last words

re­

peated themselves to me: "They've all forgotten about you." In the rear view mirror I could see Arly's tractor pulling up onto the road far be­ hind

me.

corner I turned in order to go past the farm. I drove by it slowly and looked in through the trees and saw the familiar white buildings.

At the

A light was burning in the house, and

I

thought for

sweet

else's

a

moment

I

clover, very faintly, field, far away.

as

I

passed

smelled the odor of as

NORTHWESTERN

from

someone

TRI-QUARTERLY

They are in Love

by Linda O�Riordan The two squibs below amused their author's classmates, and The T ri­ Quarterly now prints them to add to its accumulating comment on col­

legiate life.

Linda

O'Riordan, whose "Hyer

T esiker Ederim"

appeared in last an issue, English ma­ in the of Liberal Arts, College jor scholarship chairman of Pi Beta Phi, winter's

is

winner of the National

League of

American

Award

Penwomen

member

of

at

the

Northwestern, Symposium Committee, and an un­ a

dergraduate editor of this

maga­

zine.

T HE SOCIAL chairman stands up and taps her against her water glass. "There will be a candle in the living room after dinner," she says.

Shrill squeals follow her announcement. The girls try to guess who will blowout the candle. Joyce said that she and Henry had an argument last week. Maybe it was just a cover-up, so no one would suspect her. Dianne and Billy have been going together for only two weeks. A lavalier maybe, but not a pin. It's indecent to get pinned unless you've been going out with someone at least three weeks. After all, a pin is a permanent tie. When two people get pinned, you know spoon

they're in love. girls crowd upstairs and form the circle. Someone turns out the lights and the house mother starts the candle around the circle.

girls

sing

pair of hands

the

as

candle

a

doesn't fool

from

one

to blowout the

can­

moves

to the next.

Peggy O'Connor pretends dle. She is

senior, anyone.

soon

to be

engaged, but she

Everyone knows the

first

time around doesn't mean anything. The candle has to make the circle twice for a pinning and three

times for an engagement. The one who blows it out is the lucky one with the cracker-jax

prize of

a

in love.

Fall, 1963

pin

or

on

candle

starts

a

ring. She's the

one

who

is

on

its

stretch and twist;

second

time

the second

around.

row

stands

tiptoe to see who the mighty exhaler is going

to be.

"You'll love him, forever and ever, You'll al­ be

ways

his

.

permeates the

."

.

room

The

song's

sentimentality

like the odor from

a

bottle

of cheap perfume.

Someone blows out the candle. and

Stubby

are

pinned.

Judy

is

It's

JUdy. She

mobbed.

She

cries and can't get the pin on. It's too high, now too low. She doesn't want help. There, that'll have to do.

While the girls

After dinner the

The

The Necks

are

mobbing Judy, the. house­

mother turns the lights

on and goes to her room.

As she leaves the living room, she rubs her thumb

along the gold ring on her left hand. She closes the door behind her.

"Judy, when's your serenade?"

"Oh,

not

for

at

least

a

month.

The

brothers

wait until they're sure it's the real thing."

The questions continue, so do the squeals.

Everyone is delighted that Judy and Stubby are in love. Judy has the pin to prove it.

Judy and Stubby are seen everywhere together.

They look at each other adoringly. Her buzzer rings four times every day. She buys him cute 27

contemporary that

she

cards

loves

him.

for

no

They

other

reason

have

their

than

serenade

and everyone knows their love is the kind that

lasts.

May comes and they celebrate their two month anniversary. Judy has just met Stubby's parents.

They think Judy is nice. She thinks they are nice, too, but she does not like the way Stubby's father slurps when he drinks his soup. But she is in love with Stubby, so she will overlook his father's also

faults.

Then

Judy notices

slurps his

Stubby so

that

soup, but Judy is in she will correct his faults.

Stubby

love

with

Now Judy's eyes only shine most of the time.

She and Stubby are still in love, but now it is a mature, a realistic love. Once they even dis­ cussed their religious differences. Judy decided

she will convert someday.

Judy is nominated for sweetheart of Stubby's fraternity. She isn't chosen, but she says she doesn't mind because Stubby still loves her and that is all that matters anyway. Judy and Stubby still going to be married a year from June. year from June seems a long way off to Judy. She wishes the time would go quickly, are

A

because she does not want to wait that long to become Mrs. Stubby. She realizes, however, that if the time goes quickly, Spring Quarter will

goodbye for most of the summer. They write every day and see each other three times for a week each time. Then Judy goes back to schooJ and Stubby goes into the service. They have a weekend together before he leaves. Judy still has his pin. The ring will come at Christmas and the wedding in June. Before their final good-bye, they decide to date other peopJe while they are apart. They still love each other, of course, but Judy doesn't think it's fair to keep Stubby from dating, and Stubby certainly dislikes the thought of depriving Judy of some fun. Each one would be quite willing to stay home every night, but neither thinks it would be fair to ask the other to.

one

Back at school, Judy wears the pin during rush week, then puts it in her top drawer. She'd hate to lose it. She writes Stubby every day. A week or so after school starts, Judy meets Hugh in one of

her

Political

friends.

The

following Monday,

be

The girls

but she loves

Stubby, so she will endure it some­

how. A year from June seems very far away.

Stubby graduates, and Judy and Stubby

AT

say

LAST Homecoming is over. The decorations

have been taken

down, and the last

remnants of

crepe paper

put in the trash. The trash is gone,

and

the

so

are

alumni.

All

that

remain

are

bleary-eyed students, worn out from trying to in­ ject spirit into something meaningless.

For the alumni, Homecoming lasts three days and three days of saccharine superlatives heavy drinking, three days of "Remember when?"

For the students, however, the three days set aside for enthusiasm only terminate a long period of useless activity.

-

28

become

Stubby comes to see Judy for a weekend. Judy

makes

There is also next year. Judy long hates the idea of having to face next year alone,

They

realizes she cannot stand the way he slurps soup.

She gives his pin back. Judy and Hugh are still

be over, Stubby will graduate, and they'll be apart for the summer. She'll miss him. It will summer.

courses.

-

soon

a

Science

friends. Hugh and Judy date as friends. Judy writes Stubby every other day. Hugh gets friend­ lier. Judy writes Stubby once a week.

an

the

Social

Chairman

announcement. There will be

shriek

a

candle.

they crowd upstairs to the living room. They sing reverently as the candle goes around the circle. Judy blows it out. Judy and Hugh are pinned. They will be married a year from June. They are in love. as

In my dormitory, the useless activity usually begins about three weeks before the official weekend, when the house president opens nomi­

nations for

Homecoming Boat-building

chairman.

We

always elect the Boat chairman, because this is an office of responsibility. and because no one ever

volunteers. Who would want

an

office of

re­

sponsibility which involves work, especially work without glory?

The election is always lively, for each girl hur­ ries to put up someone, so that she herself won't nominated. When the president is satisfied

be

NORTH WESTERN

TRI -QU ARTERL Y

that no scapegoat has been overlooked, she closes

tion to have

the nominations and calls for the vote.

same

ing

must

be by

patibility girl caught

secret

among the

another

would be disastrous. lows

the

The vot­

ballot to maintain

(,Olll­

dormitory residents. If om' voting for her, the results cheering always fol­

Loud

announcement

of the

results.

election

An outsider might mistake this roar of enthusi­ asm for an expression of all-out support for the

Academics side

and midterms

Homecoming

time. What

a

activities

and

It's too bad

at

the

well-rounded school we have! are

working side by

that the students

aren't

also

working side by side.

The

Homecoming advocates proclaim that this time which develops unity and comradeship.

They maintain that working together for a com­ is

a

Actually, girl cheering madly because she has escaped the office for

mon goal brings people closer together and es­ tablishes rapport among the workers. If any of this mythical rapport would result, it would have

another year.

The newly-elected chairman acknowledges the applause with a grimace of delight. She makes

to develop the night before the parade, the time when everyone realizes that nothing is done. All the residents enthusiastically trudge downstairs

her first announcement.

to get the work

new

chairman.

each

is

"Immediately

after the

house meeting, there will be an ideas meeting down in the living room. It won't take more than fifteen minutes," she promises, knowing that it will take at least a half an hour just to persuade

people

to

come.

At the meeting, the girls must first contrive an elaborate pun to use as the title of the float. It does

over

with.

Forced and distaste­

ful

laboring does wonders for rapport. Perhaps the rapport is not so important after all. Perhaps the emphasis should be placed on individual sac­ rifice for the common good. Yes, the sense of self-sacrifice is just the thing for the self-appoint­ ed martyrs. They love it.

The work continues all night. Practiced sighs

not matter that the pun has little connection with

of weariness puncture the friendless silence. The

the

sun

for its

Homecoming theme, primary purpose "snow the judges out of their minds."

Creating a pun is easy in comparison with the

is to

next

task, designing the float. It is quite difficult put on the platform. Boys, of

to decide what to

course, can always create mechanical wonders with flashing eyes, wagging tails, and the like.

For

girls, the situation is not so simple. If some­ one in the dormitory happens to be pinned to a mechanical-minded genius who either is willing to explain mechanics to forty feeble-minded fe­ males, or better still, construct the entire float himself, girls, too, can have a mechanical won­ der. Unless the dorm is access to one

of these prize

be content with ures

so

that look

an

fortunate

as

to have

pin-mates, girls must stationary fig­

assortment of

stupid or deformed, or both.

After the committee has contrived the pun and

pigeonholed the pin-mate, the batallion of ele­ mentary education majors takes over. They write the float

building instructions in simplified some reason, girls find it impossible to understand the processes involved in building a float and to follow any directions accurately, even those written by elementary education ma­ jors. Yet these same girls never seem to have trouble with complicated knitting patterns. It must be that float-building skill is not considered form. For

to

be part of the feminine image.

Once the

preliminary preparations

are

com­

plete, the work begins in earnest. Each girl con­

scientiously

takes it upon herself to leave the work for everyone else to do. This united effort accounts for the air of enthusiasm permeating the dormitory. Spirited phrases drift down the

halls, phrases such as, "Aw,

I can't work

now.

I've got a midterm tomorrow." Obviously this is a lame excuse, for everyone knows it's a tradi-

Fall, 1963

comes

up.

"You

guys." A whining voice interrupts the festive work. "You guys, what am I going to do?

I've got classes this hair last

morning and I didn't roll my

night."

"Cut the classes,

stupid."

"But you know how old people who cut."

man

Blankley is about

"You don't really believe all that garbage do you? He's only trying to scare you. Just feed him

a

ence.

bunch of bull and he won't know the differ­ So what if you cut

important don't

show

a

class!

What's

anyhow?

It'll

sure

with

float

tonight. Where's

a

look

bad

more

if

we

your

spirit, anyhow?"

"Okay, okay. I'm cutting it. I'm cutting it." product of tender loving care nears com­ pletion as the parade time approaches. The girls step back and look at their night's work proudly.

The

"Well, thank God that thing's finished."

After completing the float, they have just enough time to change their clothes before they

plunge into the succession of Homecoming festivi­ They oooh properly at the parade. They cheer properly at the game. They get properly drunk at the parties. They have proper hang­ overs the next morning. They follow the example set by the alumni; the alumni try to keep up with the students; and before anyone realizes it, over. is Homecoming ties.

The

float

has

been

dismantled.

committee has finished its

job.

The

clean-up

The alumni have

Homecoming is really over. Just look Yes, look around, and you'll see that

left.

around. the

results of all the

and the hard trash

can

work

than in

a

preparation, the planning

are

more

trophy

often found

in

a

case.

29

-"�'�. 'rx�1

"

,

,

Malcolm S. McCollum

Malcom S. McCollum

was

YOU AND I

born in Evanston, went to

school there, and now lives in Wilmette. At Northwest­

he is a senior majoring in English. In his freshman year he was named to Phi Eta Sigma (Freshman Men's

ern

Scholastic Honorary Society). He has worked in a book a pet shop, plays the piano, trumpet, and saxo­ phone, and writes poems, two of which appeared in the spring issue of The Tri-Quarterly.

store,

Outside our kitchen, the autumn rain;

Inside, ourselves being lazy; Both places, Saturday morning: You were working one of those

Puzzles, damn silly things,

Poking your lower lip out When you got stuck.

BUG ESCHATOLOGY 2 bugs today:

a

gnat,

I was reading, I said.

smashed casually at

Mostly, I was watching The leaves falling under the rain,

level of my murderous eye

-

Wearing myoid blue sweatshirt And smoking too much:

that's perjurous,

The rain its silver self, and my feet

however, for the eye was bland (and that's a lie, it was surprised to see death in the hand of me), was bland, I say, before it registered the gore of gnat-life on my hand a gnat who can't demand a cause, now, for his death, a gnat void of gnat-breath;

Propped up on the windowsill.

You probably had caught me Looking foolish at some thought You were grinning at me

-

Once when I turned my head your way:

All morning we were separate

-

And together and comfortable.

I think we made love That afternoon;

maybe not.

2 bugs: the second, small, exuberant in crawl upon my bathroom floor, a

bug small as the core

A

of joy, crossing, bug-style,

BEAT, 4 BEAN SONNET

Lima beans are nearly green,

and valleys of dark grout,

Not round or square, but oval:

backing, shunting without pattern but for bug whim,

A lima bean is never seen

rumination, pricking

Smooth lima beans in succotash -

sharp as any knife that primal thorn, his life.

Inflated like a buoy I am, then, great with joy.

-

Were I an architect" contracted to erect

church, this, for the all: one wall; another wall.

To further great elation

Complement corn's flavor: The yellow corn caught in the dish Returns the unsought favor.

(To the lima beans.)

Lima beans, inside their jackets,

Are all stuffed full of vitamins:

One lima bean will cure your rickets; A meal of them will cure your sins.

a

this, for all decoration: on one wall, God Is Love; on

(Lima beans.)

Attempting to be novel.

mindless of my too grim with point as sticking

4

FOR CARNIVORES

the white plateaus of tile

same

4-SQUARE,

(0, lima beans.)

Yes, lima beans are lima beans Are good for you. Or so it seems.

(To lima beans.)

one, God Is Not Love.

Between, above, around

this, space; beneath it, ground.

30

NORTHWESTERN

TRI-QUARTERLY

SOME OF-IF, PRISON BLUES Your fever's hot;

Green tree, green tree, Stone and stone.

I think you've caught Psychosis.

Long time, long time.

You'd best go see

Bird's hollow bone.

A specialist;

I can't find where your nose is.

1. Oh if I had

A second head

I'd think three times as easy.

4. 0 pellet, pill, And powder-man, Did you forget your snowbird?

I'd find a girl To love

He ate an egg

me true

And long and fat and greasy.

Two days ago,

And if I had

It roosted like a cowbird.

No eyes to speak

It wasn't yellow,

I'd go a lot less crazy.

The bitch I've got now,

It was blue.

It didn't taste like bluebird.

She's a peach,

If you don't have

She's

Some wings for me,

shanky-mean, and lazy.

I think I'll be a no-bird.

2. Oh if I had

A high fine horse

5. Oh if I had

I'd ride upon the pompous.

A window,

I'd slant my cap

I'd want a doorway soon.

Down on my eyes

Good thing

And gaucho up a rumpus.

I've got no window.

But I'll not have

I'll sing a little tune:

A little horse, Oh did you ever

I'd rather ride a grampus And deep six

Hear it thunder

Seven manatees

When the clock said it was noon?

Down on a writ mandampus.

Did you ever, Ever wonder

3. Please send an ounce

How much man was in the moon?

Of mercury So I can diagnose.

Green tree, green tree,

Bend over, world,

Stone and stone.

Put out your tongue,

Long time, long time.

And take off all your clothes.

Bird's hollow bone.

Home

It's very grave,

SMALL ENTERPRISE Husband at work,

Just a man, come

His return each year

Children at school,

With a jaunty bell

Is unexpected.

Her breakfast dishes

To sharpen knives

It would be no wonder

To do or shirk,

And figure the sum

Should he disappear:

The wife, no fool

Of what's ill and well

A man unprotected

For dreams or wishes,

With the waiting wives.

Goes easily under

(N ot even should They be of Spring,

The wheels of the cart

Just a scissors-grinder,

That carries his gear

No more or less,

which, while it's sweet

Work an old device:

Come to remind her

And mainly good,

Their turnings start

Of a good surprise:

Has a brash ring

The bell's career

The fragile success

And muddy feet)

Of breaking the ice.

Of small enterprise.

Is given pause In her routine

The wife at her sink

Of wash and rinse

As if some sign

To give applause

Had made her think

Holds a smile suspended,

To an unseen, Unromantic prince

Fall, 1963

-

-

Something had ended, Something malign.

31

Rock of ason

stood

on

the bank of the brown Obion

and watched Rev. Forbes dunk his younger sister into

the

crawling, muddy water and heard the congregation singing, their hands clasped in front of them Be of Sin (Mason heard his own voice) the double cure, Save from wrath and make me pure too slow, they always sing too slow and the dozen or so people standing waist deep in the water started for the bank with Rev. Forbes wading in front, his arms stretched out and the Holy Light of Salvation shining on his face and long hair with Mason at the same time wiping the sweat away and thinking about the water in his eyes and Rev.

Forbes' strong, hard

hand on the top of his head and the

same

somber

faces staring out from the red bank in the name of the Father and Mason went down into the

murky water blup and out slosh and of the Son blup the swirling quiet slosh and the Holy Ghost blup using the same water to baptize that John Pearl set his catfish lines in after ya shinny out on a tree hanging over the water, ya dip this here three-pronged hook into the chicken blood out

and

and

let'er down

easy,

then

allow

ya

line

slowly so's it'll drift down the river a'ways

bang!

And

behold

Thee

on

Thy

throne,

Ages, cleft

for me,

let

me

hide

myself

in Thee.

Mason picked his way through the people, head­

ing down

to

where his

Ma

funeral home fan and Pa up

fanning with a holding his Bible

was

was

tight to his chest. He turned

to look hard

at

Mason.

"You'd

do

best

to

stay close

to

your

folks,

boy. No good for ya to go traipsin' off into the woods. Better to stay where the Lord and me can keep ya out of trouble.

"Yes, Pa."

again wiped at the sweat with his sleeve studied the ground. Ma took Jo-Kay's hand

Mason and

by the other as she stepped onto the bank, the water running in brown stripes and Mason took her

down the folds of her skirt.

"Well, Jo-Kay, now you're a proper church lady," Ma said wiping Jo-Kay's face with a cloth.

"Thar's no need to pamper the young'un to death

a'cause

she's

Pa's hand went to

in

the

hand

of

the

Lord."

Jo-Kay's shoulder. "And we'll

'spect ya to act like a decent Christian person ought to. All this fussin' 'round would set "Brothers," Rev. Forbes said to the congrega­ tion, "we have witnessed a holy and beautiful thing here this afternoon and one which I hope "

•

...

I

•

•

5 i ; � r' "Y'.'"

•

NORTHWESTERN

TRI-QUARTERLY

1.\

will encourage all of you to carry the word of Jesus with you today and everyday. We see be­

the proof of God's love for his children when we look on the bright faces of those who

fore

us

have

accepted the Lord Jesus

Christ

as

their

Saviour and been baptized. For only ye who be­ lieve and are baptized may enter into the king­ dom of

"

Rev. Forbes continued his sermon for some ten at

which time

he

asked

if

summer

a

heat

Rev.

Forbes

leaned

back,

shuffied

at

the

people.

and

the

people

he stared

cloud;

uneasily

intimidated

personal

power of the fear of the man stand­ the

by

ing before them.

"Me and some other of the Elders of the church

of the

any

'round

comes

and their name is called."

Gobbler King raised his hand to shade his eyes from the sun, which had just come from behind

words and their

...

minutes

Day of Judgement

stone when the

•

speak.

have had a talk as to what ought to be done 'bout

"Yes, Brother Gobbler?"

Mason's Pa stepped to the front of the group, a

this. We have decided that much of this trouble

brothers

scowl "I

on

of

the

church

moved

were

to

his face.

jest like to

time to try

to

say that

set

all here need this

we

ourselves

back

on

the

right

path of the Lord. 'Tuther day when I was in town, I

seen

several womenfolks

of

our

own

Corinth

Church dressed up with fancy red and yeller gee­ gaws and

flowery things. I reckon we all know that these new-fangled notions may be alright for citified folks, but here in New Sidonia we don't take to it. Struttin' 'round like ladies of the world, apin' them magazine pictures, is not the way to God's Salvation and those that take to

this

new

pack of

nonsense

that's

lot

a

of

going around

will find theirselves in the lake of fire and brim-

is sproutin' from Mr. Niward, the school teacher from the New Methodist Church, the other side of Sharon.

It's plain in my mind and the other Elders too that the young folks is bein' erupted

by science teachin'

and such. Now

ideas

are

never

know if he's in the

of the

some

beginnin' to take holt of some of the older folks who ought to know better. The Devil moves in strange forms, Brothers. Ya even

room

same

with ya. If

stop this kind of thing from bein' the damnation of us all, it's high time we put a stop to it right now. The other Elders and me, com­ we want

to

mencin'

Monday,

are

stoppin'

our

children from

goin' to this school and we aim to see if we can't get this school teacher's place retook by some­ body that's a God fearing person. Far as my own Mason goes, he don't need no more schoolin' any­ how, but. the younger children haft to be learned to read the Bible and such.

and Rev.

keep

your

teacher

By Gary T. Cole

Forbes is

can

Elders and

me

the rest of you will all home 'til another school

sure

children be

The

got."

"Amen," voices said in the group.

"Amen, Brother Gobbler," said Rev. Forbes stepping next to him and facing the people. "To­ night the Elders and I are going down to talk with Mr. Niward about his leaving the school.

It's not right to have a Methodist teaching Bap­ tist children anyway."

That evening after the hot ride home in the wagon, Pa saddled up the mare and rode off to­ ward the church through the still evening to the

meet

After

he

passed

out

of

sight

the wooden

bridge across the bottom, Ma­ son stopped splitting firewood, drew a bucket of water from the well, and set it on the porch. His over

•

others.

mother

was

iron pots

inside the kitchen

scrubbing

used for

cooking dinner.

"Ma," Mason called through the

"can

I

black­

screen

door,

speak with you?"

Mason."

"Why surely,

Mason entered the darkened kitchen and sat at

the table waiting for her to finish. She hung the

on

wall, dried her hands

on

her

apron,

a

pot and

brought a kerosene lamp from the tub to the ta­ ble.

She

turned

the

wick

wrinkled

throat

and

hands,

shadows of the

room

were

brightening

her

down.

The

smaller and less

men-

up,

and

sat

•

acing

Fall, 1963

now.

33

"I know what you're thinking, Mason, but it ain't no use to fret yerself about it. Your Pa has decided that the school teacher is troublesome

could

and

seemed

like hours.

gun

and

he's got the church all fixed up to get rid a thing that can stop him so do best to jest stay clear of him." you'd so

of him. Ther' ain't

"But

Ma, that ain't fair. You know yourself a good man. Besides, it ain't just that. It's him saying I've had enough school­ in'. Most other boys are gain' on farther than six grades nowadays. If he let me go just two more that Mr. Niward is

'til I'm

sixteen."

squirrel hunting early in the morning. see

now

even

John Pearl sittin' the

patiently watching

tree

up

a

And

would

tumblin'

down. Then Mason would draw water while John it and picked the buck shot out, squirrel stuck between the two fingers of his

Pearl skinned

the

left hand. He'd cut the middle three off with when he

axe

was

little and Mason

amazed that John Pearl could

an

always do anything with was

"But I missed two years anyway with one sickand another and

"It ain't

or

"You know he

those two Pa

won't, Mason." "

ness

...

no

use, Mason."

"He let John Pearl go 'til the eighth grade."

"Mason, don't talk 'bout John Pearl. You know

was

another. Mason had often wished to go huntin' again, but he was afraid Pa would catch up with

him. Pa said huntin' and fishin'

your Pa don't like you to speak of him. Your Pa thinks it was book learnin' that led John Pearl

to do when the work and Bible

to leave the

be

line

family

and

never

so

much

as

write

quite

they never seemed to

over.

face. She took Mason by the shoulders affection­

ately.

"Mason, please do what your Pa says and don't make him mad. You know how he is when he's

good boy, for your Ma's sake." quietly thinking about John Pearl while his mother wiped her eyes and went out on the porch. The mention of John Pearl always troubled Mason. He was the finest brother a boy mad. Be Mason

you'd best lock up the hen house.

There's been faxes snoopin' 'round here at night.

I seen their tracks."

"Mason,

stopped oddly, looking at the shadows of the darkening room, a sudden whiteness in her

a

sat

could have and yet two

summers

ago he

packed

up and left one day while Mason was at school, and was never heard from since. The last two years had been awful lonesome with

talk to.

there

But since John Pearl left,

something reading was over. was

" ...

Ma

to

snap that

come

fingers that Mason could do with five. always mad at John Pearl and whopped him awful sometimes, but John Pearl would do what he wanted anyway by trickin' Pa some way

years

a

a

branches for what

finally, he'd

squirrel

Mason under

and

only Jo-Kay

It wasn't like when John Pearl

they'd

go

giggin'

frogs

at

was

night

or

"Yes, Ma," Mason called Mason

dropped

the

out to the

wooden

latch

on

porch. the

al­

ready sleeping chickens and stood for a few mo­ ments watching the cattle stand, absently chew­ ing their cuds as a light haze moved in at the departure of the setting sun. Crickets had set up a rhythmic scraping and a bob-white called her brood in somewhere in the milo field. The

mos­

quitoes were whirling around Mason in the faint light of the black-blue sky and he fanned his straw hat at them and hurried to the house.

J o-Kay and Mason read the

chapters of the Bi­

ble that Pa had assigned for that day, the kero­ sene

lamp on the one side and a small fire in the

Gary T. Cole was born in Chicago, took his first two years of college at Navy Pier, and is now a senior at Northwestern in the College of Liberal Arts, maioring he in English. Writing and music divide his interest has studied piano a good many years. He intends to -

teach but will work for a time in the outside world before

going to graduate school. Vacations he has worked for the Post Office, taken fishing trips into the deep woods

of Ontario, and has spent a number of summers on a a locale which has been farm in Western Tennessee -

reflected in his stories. Cole is an undergraduate editor of the Tri-Quarterly.

NORTHWESTERN

TRI-QUARTERLY

The subject seemed closed

in her rocker shell­

fireplace on the other. Ma sat dinner. Then she ing peas for the next day's before sending Jo-Kay and sewed Mason's shirt and the dovp (l'lI­ attic Mason up the ladder to the

and P'I

lay under the heavy yellow Opal had made for him, and

Mason

Aunt

the

as

clouds rolled over the low hills outside the attic window, blotting out the bright half-moon and

thought about what his pa must be say­ ing to the people. The Methodists wouldn't have the gumption to stand up against the Elders and stars, he

knew

They

Pa.

Pa's

temper too well.

Gobbler

feared in Weakly County.

King Mason remembered how Pa used to take him and John Pearl with him when he'd go loggin' a

was

name

Beech Ridge after the crops was in and how he'd beaten a man down with a loggin' chain and would have killed him if the other

back up

on

men

hadn't

bered

John

stopped Pearl

him.

out

in

Mason

also

of

back

remem­

the

house

sweatin' and bitin' his lip while Pa hit him on the a willow switch. Pa said a boy needed given the rod to help him stay on the path

back with to be

ought gone? knows

lucky though, because of be­

ing sick so much, Pa had never beat him up as

as

he did John Pearl. But then John Pearl

had stood up to P a more than Mason ever could.

The sound of a horse coming across the wooden

bridge and up the road brought Mason out of his

Mason

sewing.

to

get Mr.

to

Ma

leave.

Niward

to

"Don't

you

asked.

think

we

and find out where John Pearl has

try

After

all, he

is

our

son

heaven

and

" ...

ing.

"I

thought 1 told ya neva' to speak to me of boy agin! He's gone, that's all. He run off and left his Ma and Pa to go to the city some­

that

wheres in search of the Devil. Thar ain't no way find him

to

noway."

"Mason misses him

so."

sight better off with John Pearl gone. Why, he was a 'gettin' jest like him 'afore he left. I'm glad John Pearl 'is gone. He weren't no count anyway with his fingers gone. Couldn't plow worth a-" "Why, he made out right good, I thought."

Pa glared menacingly at Ma, who quickly stopped her defense.

"Mason is

a

"I'll have no

Mason had been

lit his pipe laid his

Pa

as

Gobbler stood up quickly and Ma stopped talk­

of the Lord.

much

might do

"Gobbler?" comforter

her

resumed

cheek against the floor and tried to imagine what

ther beds. his

Ma

more

talk of John Pearl. Mason's

forgot him, folks 'round here has mostly forgot.

There ain't no need to look for him. John Pearl is

gone for good."

Pa leaned toward

fireplace and knocked

the

pipe against the red clay brick. The ash and tiny bits of unburnt tobacco fell into the mouth of

his

drowsiness. Then the creaking of the barn door and the screen door slamming downstairs and

the fire. Mason, interested in what his Ma and Pa

mumbling up through the pine board floor. Mason lay still and listened, but couldn't hear the words. He waited, then pulled the comforter back, crept to the hole in the floor,

effort to

his

Pa's

voice

raised the trap door an inch or two. thar's goin' to be trouble I'm sure," his Pa's voice said. "Seems as if Mr. Niward don't

around head

git along jest fine."

"Well maybe it's jest as well, Gobbler," Ma said. "He ain't really a bad man. It's jest that

talkin'

done.

womenfolk

to

know

what's

to

be

getting too heavy for Mason to gently raised it up and leaned it against the wall. Peering down through the soft, yellow light, he could see his Pa sitting facing the fireplace, his Ma still in the rocker holding so

was

he

mending in her lap, but staring at Pa in a strange way.

"You won't be plannin' any kind of-" some

"What we're plannin' isn't your worry. We aim to

git

this feller

Fall, 1963

out

of Sidonia

and that's

all."

trying

down

get the

to

from

there."

ladder.

cn

there, Mason? Look at me.

Eavesdroppin'? yer Ma and Pa? Speak up,

Eavesdroppin' boy.

to

talk,

"

come

in

as

his

tried

Pa's

"Tell

Mason

tight

but

the

words

wouldn't

he looked into the orange fire mirrored eyes.

me

ya

warn't

sin 1 didn't believe

The lid

asked.

floor

ya doin' there?

were

"

hold

Pa

the

on

"What'er ya doin' r say what

Mason

with

Mason?"

Mason climbed down the

he's -"

"That'll be enough, woman. This is matter for the Elders of the church and we don't need

from

courage to answer.

"I seen ya, boy. Come

Methodists as Baptists in that school and that him Methodists

up

pipe on the mantel and turned enough to see Mason pull his the dimly lit room.

Mason kneeled

...

New

quickly

"That you,

"

and them

Pa laid his

on.

and

rightly see why he should leave jest 'cause we Baptists want him to. He says thar 's jest as many

saying, had leaned over a little more in an see and hear everything that was going

were

eavesdroppin'. That's a ya'd do to yer Pa and Ma."

his Ma

saw

standing, the mending held

in her white-knuckled hands.

"Why, the boy pro'bly only wanted a drink of Isn't that right, Mason?" or somethin'.

water

"Be quiet, Tess. Let the boy speak for hisself."

Mason tried to

yellow light

push through the haze of the grab something, anything for an

to

excuse.

"Yeah, Pa.

1

wanted

to

git

a

drink."

35

"It weren't bad enough. Now ya lied to me too, out to the back of the house."

John

"Oh, Gobbler. Don't..

er's

boy. Step

The boy's been sick

so _"

"Bein'

sick

ain't

no

for

excuse

sinnin'.

The

rible

ruckus. Things got especially bad when Pearl started seein' the Methodist preach­ daughter. Your Pa seen 'em together one

day up by Hop-Inn. After that I knew your broth­ er wouldn't last here much longer. If you'll jest do as your Pa says, why then there won't be no more gettin mad lind whippin' and we can "Go way and leave me be, Ma. I don't want to

boy's got to be set right. If you can't set a boy straight in the path of the Lord, why then he might as well not even be in the Lord's sight.

Step out back, boy."

Mason pushed through the screen door and stumbled through the black clouds of night to the pole fence along back. He laid his arms over

talk

it and waited and shook all

hesitated for

taken him out back Pearl there about to

so

Pa had

never

seen

John

times he knew

what

was

before,

many

over.

but he had

'

"

...

It

or

listen."

was

the

a

Mason

statement

had

moment, then took the lamp and

climbed back down the

door

as

ladder, closing the trap­

she went. Now all that rain

happen.

direct

most

made to either of his parents, and he said it without any visible change in his expression. Ma ever

was

left

flickers

occasional

and

was

the

of

thought he could see him, waving for him to waving to run Mason follow, away. squinted his eyes to it and see better. was John Pearl. He'd Yes, try told he'd him Mason take always away with him when the time came and they'd be happy, but

pounding light­ ning. Mason decided he would leave home in the morning after his Pa started working in the field.

Mason slept lightly through the rain and the throbbing of the welts on his back. At last, the clanking sounds of breakfast brought him to con­ sciousness. He pulled his pants on and peered out into the grey drizzle at the early morning. He

hurt

could hear his Pa's voice and then the screen door

Mason looked

ravine and for John

Pearl

then

he'd

Mason

an

the black fields toward the

across a

moment to

left

without

awful lot, not

a

word.

even

That

had

tellin' him. But he

Mason

raised his

arms

off the

fence, only

hear his Pa's steps behind him and feel his

to

rough

that John Pearl

table.

"Pa

Mason turned his head around to fire

ange

was

still in his

Pa's

see

the

or­

eyes.

"Quiet, boy," his Pa said as he lifted Mason's nightshirt up.

yelled at the first whack of the willow switch and again at the second, but then they blended together and he could only bite his lip Mason

and

sweat.

was

back in the featherbed

was

salving the

cuts.

and

It had begun to rain

and lightning dimmed the kerosene lamp as the glare flashed through the window. There was the steady hum of falling drops as they struck the

tarpaper roof and slid toward the ground. Ma had been talking right along, but Mason only now

began " ...

get

to

understand what she

was

saying.

your Pa has calmed down now so you jest rest and tomorrow things'Il look a lot You

jest made him

a

whole lot madder

than he was when ya started screaming for John Pearl to across

come

and

morn­

she looked at his back. "Most

of the swellin's gone down. Your Pa said to come and help him clean out the barn when ya finished your breakfast. Look's

day.

as

if it's fixin' to rain all

"

While his

Ma talked

Mason

shoved

some

bis­

cuits into his pockets and then ate the eggs on his

plate.

know, Mason, it was just

a

day like this

when John Pearl left. It rained all day that day."

"Yes, Ma. I remember."

"Your Pa and him had almost that

night

before.

I

believe

come

your

Pa

to blows was

John Pearl was leavin'. Your brother had

a

glad tem­

per 'most like your Pa's."

Mason climbed back up to the attic, tied his in a bundle, and fastened them with a

belt. Then he put his slicker on and waited for a chance to sneak out. When he heard his mother go out on the back

porch he slipped down the ladder ravine, keeping the

and then headed toward the

shed between him and the barn as far as he could.

only the whack­

The ground was soft and gave a little under each step. He hurried along at a trot until he got to the trees and brush that bordered the ravine

run

ing and the orange fire would focus in his mind.

"Ya know I never told ya this before, but it was

pro'bly for the better that John Pearl left when he did. He was gittin' big enough to fight back at Pa and I was afraid they were gonna git in a ter36

you feel this

out

git ya and trying to

the field."

Mason tried to remember, but

as

clothes

some

better.

in'?" Ma asked

"You

And then he

Ma

pile. Then he climbed down the ladder to was cleaning the dishes off the

where his mother

"Mornin', Mason. How do

I.

_

things he thought he might need on top of

some

hand push him back across the cedar pole. As Mason looked out at the black field, he could see gone.

his Pa heading out for on. Mason got some of

his clothes laid out one on top of the other and put the

was

see

the barn with his slicker

back now to take him away.

was

slamming and could

both sides. He pushed through the thick black­ berry bushes until he came to the edge of the ravine where the ground dropped sharply down about thirty feet to a small creek not half filling on

NORTHWESTERN

TRI-QUARTERLY

bed.

of the rocky creek

the bottom

About

fifty

huge beech tree which had

yards ahead lay a fallen over, spanning

the

forty feet

ac-ross

tho

Even

he said this, words

as

look for him."

ravine.

It began to rain

harder

even

as

Mason reuclu-d

to the tree. Big Beech Tree was the only place road. the out to cross the ravine without going John Pearl and Mason had often tried to find

another

way,

but

never

had.

slide

could

You

were

in his head

like burning spears thrust into his consciousness. (" John Pearl is gone for good. Ain't no need to into

"Ya Pa and him

were

gonna

good.")

The

fire

orange

Mason's

in

was

undercut a ledge of limestone which now rose out over the creek bed. It was raining so hard now

feel her pulling at his shoulder. He thrust

cross

one slope, hoping to be able ledge and get out of the rain.

Once on the bottom of the bed he picked his way across the shallow creek in a line almost directly underneath the log. Mason climbed over one last, large, yellow rock which sloped in under the ledge and ducked under the wet limestone into a

He slid down the

to crawl under the

dark

which went down and into the bank.

cave

lay on his side resting his cheek on his arm and wondering how he could go about finding John Pearl. Maybe he had gone to Memphis or maybe to Nashville. It was hard to guess which.

Mason moved his head slightly and felt flannel He

brush his face. He felt with his hand the sleeve

of

a shirt and then something hard in it. After fumbling with the buckle of the pack, he finally

managed to pull a box of matches from within it.

He struck

a

match and

saw

the smashed skull of

his

breath

gasps. Ma

was

coming in short, whistling there, but Mason didn't hear or

into

over

of the stalls

one

death and hid him in the ravine. He killed him 'cause he wouldn't listen to him."

"Mason.

Oh,

Mason,

what

have

"I

Ma.

I

with

my

seen,

broken

skull.

seen

only got two fingers "But Mason

flannel

shirt

and

blue

overalls

on although the clothes were in tatters.

Mason noticed the brown boots much like his own.

The skeleton

bones of

were

what

and

little

once

saw

a

man.

Another

match

It

was

John

bones before

him. Then he bowed his head against the sandy earth and cried.

In

a

some

white bone almost seemed to

move

in the flicker­

ing light. Mason saw that the skull was smashed across

the forehead. A thin crack the

head.

He

stared

ran

toward the

blankly

at

the

shadows moving back and forth under that ledge as

his hand."

" ...

git away, Ma. The Elders won't be­ got to run away now. I'll run away to where John Pearl was gonna go."

"I got to

lieve

I

me.

Ma

inside the stall now and Mason turned

was

ran

across

the black soil,

got to run from the Elders. They're just like Pa," he kept saying to himself as he started across Big Beech Tree.

"I

hands

see

out

the

effort to

an

rock with

Waiting on that

in

-

just

as

its

balance

himself

and

Far below he could

sharp cleft.

it had waited for John Pearl

other wet night.

Awareness came to him.

His feet slipped off the log and fell head-first, edge of the rock. He

his skull striking the jagged

few minutes he regained his senses, pulled dry grass together, and lit it. The chalky,

back of

his He's

looked down at the ravine.

only a thumb Pearl, and the

at the

him.

and

match burned Mason's fingers. He lit another and

another, staring in disbelief

It's

done?"

eyes

Half way across, the trunk narrowed. Mason felt his feet slip on the wet bark. He held his

the left hand with

finger.

on

you

own

the

although fully apart, they still held the semblance

was

then Mason

reclined and

was

there.

down

He's

back along the ravine.

red

and didn't hear the

ning across the lot, screaming for Mason to stop.

"He killed John Pearl, Ma. He beat him to

His

a

cart­

doors open. Mason raised the gun and shot him about an inch behind the left ear. Ma was run­

back into the rain and

skeleton still had

a

ridge into the gun, pushed through the house, and ran through the lot to the barn.

Mason hesitated only a second to push off the safety on the rifle before pulling the grey, rotting doors apart about a foot. Pa was pitching hay

a man.

shaking hand dropped the match and he dropped two more before lighting another. The

he

across the creek and up the bank and then out onto the muddy field. He reached the

house,

the slippery log.

as

eyes

scrambled out

down this side to the creek, but the other bank had was impossible to climb because the creek

that Mason decided to wait before trying to

git

terrible ruckus." "John Pearl is gone for

II

the fire burned down. As it went out the wind

blew the wet spray of rain against the back of his neck and Mason clutched the black, sandy soil in his hands.

under the sloping, yellow ledge to Pearl, his blood trickling across his fore­ head and dropping to the black, sandy soil.

Everyone knew it was dangerous to try to walk across Big Beech Tree when it was raining.

Forbes sprinkled soil on the caskets Rev. ("Ashes to ashes") the congregation singing ("Dust to dust"), their hands clasped in front of rolled down

John

them

-

myself

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide in Thee."

"That's why ya didn't come back for me, John Pearl. Who done this to ya?"

Fall, 1963

37

The Poetry of Anne Sexton Anne Sexton

was

born November 9, 1928, in New­

There

are

no

new

in

hell, but the old

toughen

up new visitors

seasons

ton, MassachuseHs, and grew up in Wellesley, where she aHended local schools. She has been married for fifteen years and has two daughters Linda, nine, and

ones

from time to time

who

are

Joyce, seven. She began writing five

than like Milton's; her images clarify rather than

-

poetry has appeared

in

anthologies. Houghton

Mimin

two volumes of her work

years ago. Her

periodicals and Company has published

numerous

-

To Bedlam and Part

Way

Bock and All My Pretty Ones. In 1958-59 she won the Audience poetry prize and in 1959 she held the Robert Frost

Fellowship

awarded

a

grant

at as

Breadloaf,

Vermont.

She

veil the ineffable.

the climate of

more

like Dante's

"The Moss

of His Skin," for example, is ostensibly a dramatic monologue, its voice started by a quotation from an article in a psychoanalytic journal. The quotation appears as epigraph to the poem:

was

awarded the first American

traveling literary fellowship of the Academy of Arts and Letters for a year's

residence

at

the American

Academy in Rome. When Poetry sent her a biographical form to fill out, she wrote under the heading of education "none" and under the heading of occupation she wrote "home­ body."

Young girls next

Arabia

were

often

dead

buried

alive

as

-

-

sonal fantasy: ·It was only important to smile and hold still, to lie down beside him and to rest awhile, to be folded up together if we were silk,

to sink from the eyes of mother and not to talk.

The black room took us like a cave or a mouth or an indoor belly.

I held my breath and daddy was there,

biography. Because her work is difficult, the biographi­ cal approach to the poems has been a temptation; but while there are elements of autobiography in it, the poetry cannot always be interpreted in this way. It seems more profitable to credit her with a degree of relationships among the individual poems. What follows is intended to direct readers to the poems as poems rather than as memoirs.

in

But the form of the poem the dramatic mono­ is a metaphor that reveals naked a per­ logue

The poetry of Anne Sexton expresses a number of symbolic themes which have been read as literal auto­

esthetic distance and to consider some of the recurrent

to their

fathers, apparently sacrifice to the goddesses of the tribes.

as

38

verse

descent. Anne Sexton's hell is

assistant scholar to the Radcliffe

Institute for Independent Study during 1961-62, and she won the Poetry prize in 1962. This year she was

themes that create

able to describe in

•

All quotations from the poetry of Anne Sexton, with the ex­ ception of "Consorting With Angels," which appeared in the CarLeton Miscellany, ©Spring. 1963, are taken as indicated in the text from To Bedlam and Part Way Back (© Hough­ ton Mifflin 1960) and An My Pretty Ones (© Houghton Mif­ flin 1962). with the permission of the poet and of Houghton Mifflin Company.

NORTHWESTERN

TRI-QUARTERLY

the need to hide from the sisters and from Allah, since

these

all

mothe-r,

th«

censors

refer

whom

against

psychologically

to

after

all

the

sin

is

cumrn itted:

...

My sisters

will never know that I fall

(Jut of myself and pretend that Allah will not see ..

It may be

no

than coincidence that "The

more

Moss of His Skin"

occurs

almost at dead center

published volume, To Bed­ Way Back; but it is possible to look

of Anne Sexton's first lam and Part

and

before

large

after

discourse

it

of

to

radiant

elements

The

this book.

in

the

metaphorical

of the dramatic monologue makes four more poems, of which one, "Where I Live in This

use

Honorable House of the Laurel a

double-entendre

pastoral, erotic

Beverly Fields

of

lament

Tree," speaks in

both

for

the

cold

poetry, and for the that results from refusing court­

the death-in-life of

paralysis

ship that is divine or otherwise tabu:

his thumbs, his fat skull, his teeth, his hair growing like a field or a shawl.

I lay by the moss of his skin until it grew strange. My sisters will never know that I fall out of myself and pretend that Allah will not see how I hold my daddy like an old stone tree.

The liebestod

experience here is given

more

straightforwardly than even Antigone's;

none

of

its elements

sin,

or

is

in

doubt

-

the

of

sense

tabu, that requires the grave as the most secret as punishment is directly produced sin grave figures that establish annihilation (black), privacy (cave), (mouth), and the complex female need not only to share

bed and also in the four

the father with the mother but also to share the

Beverly Fields is an instructor in the English Department.

mother with the father (an indoor belly).

Like all her poems, this one doubles its strength and

clarity through

rhyme except

at

the

reach

a

daddy,

with its extra

climax

sound.

end,

There

is

almost

where

see

and

intensified

by

syllable

the

no

tree

intervening

that contributes to

the syncopation of the last. two lines. The poem proceeds to this final syncopation from its begin­ ning jump-rope rhythms, expressive of childhood, and

through

a

meter

that

is

struck

almost

ex­

elusively with two beats to a line, expressive of this secret and disastrous coupling. Where three

beats Occur in

a line the mother is to be found, extra yet necessary presence: "to sink from the eyes of mother"; her presence is implied

an

strongly

also in the trimeter lines that

Fall, 1963

recognize

A native

Chicagoan, she has two degrees from North­ (B.A., '39, M.A., '58). She

was appointed a teaching fellow at Northwestern in 1958, taught for two years at Lake Forest College, traveled in Europe, and returned to Northwestern in 1962 to teach and study for a Ph.D. degree, writing her dissertation on Cole­ ridge. Married in 1940, she and her husband (who is a lawyer and business man) make their home in Evanston.

They have two daughters in college, one at North­

western

western, the other at Smith.

Mrs. Fields' article

on

the poetry of Anne Sexton is

the thirteenth upon living American poets, written for The Tri-Quarterly at the invitation of the editor. The first ten of these Poets in

were

reprinted in

1962 in book

form,

Progress, by the Northwestern Press.

39

The air

.

The doctors are enamel. They want to know

rings for you, for that astonishing rite

the facts. They guess about the man who left me,

of my breathing tent undone within your light.

I only know how this untimely lust has tossed

pendulum soul, going the way men go and leave you full of child. But our case history stays blank. All I did was let you grow. some

flesh at the wind forever and moved my fears toward the intimate Rome of the myth we crossed.

You gave me honor too soon, Apollo.

Now we are here for all the ward to see.

I am a shelter of lies.

Should I learn to speak again, ur hopeless in such sanity will I touch some face I recognize?

There is no one left who understands how I wait here in my wooden legs and 0

.

..

my green green hands.

The decision is made at

The tree of the father literally imprisons her here, in an ancient and durable symbol; and in another she is imprisoned in poetry, the shibboleth

sense

that promises to open the gates of the dead.

But

natural

Wall," with the na rcotic repetitiveness of a bal­ lad, its refrain the voices of the living, about poets and about the locks on the gates of the dead that prevent the poets from deep truth:

really reaching the

as

last,

as

involuntary and

when

I burst empty

..

of you, letting you learn how the air is so.

dead voice chants in another monologue,

a

"Portrait of an Old Woman on the College Tavern

act

an

.

me.

the doctors return to scold I speak. It is you my silence harms.

I should have known; I should have told them something to write down. My voice alarms none." I hold my throat. "Name of father you and name you bastard in my arms.

-

And now that's that. There is nothing more that I can say or lose.

Others have traded life before

I only said

and could not speak. I tighten to refuse

how I want to be there and I

your owlmg eyes, my fragile visitor.

would sing my songs with the liars

I touch your cheeks, like flowers. You bruise against me. We unlearn. I am a shore rocking you off. You break from me. I choose

and my lies with all the singers.

And I WOUld, and I would but it's my hair in the hair wreath, my cup pinned to the tavern wall,

your only way, my small inheritor and hand you off, trembling the selves we lose.

my dusty face they sing beneath.

Poets are sitting in my kitchen.

Go child, who is my sin and nothing more.

As in Donne, the dead voice asks a question whose

is made impossible by another question:

answer

Why do these poets lie?

Why do children get children and Did you hear what it said?

I only said how I want to be there,

Oh, down at the tavern where the prophets are singing

not Anne Sexton has had

an illegiti­ interpretation that amuses her.

Such error is not merely simple-minded, how­ ever; it is a response to the poet's trick of in­ vesting the experience of the other with her own emotional realities. What is primary in the poem is of course the experience of childbirth with its essential pain of separation; but here again, as

mate

or

child

-

an

around their round table

in many of her poems, there is

until they are still.

The undramatic sotto

Poetry is a lying art undertaken perhaps in a witch's "kitchen," not only because of the nature of the poet, who is always aware of the lie behind the truth, but also because the city of the dead, the buried life, is closed, and because even the dead would lie if they could.

withold, is the con­ of the fourth dramatic monologue in this cern volume. The "Unknown Girl in the Maternity Ward" speaks to her illegitimate infant, six days To lie

or

not, to publish

a

ever,

lyrical

note

thrusts up

as

the

girl tells

.

is

much;

surely and

it

out

is

a

of

character;

direction

it

asso­

Goethe: It is the courage to make a clean breast of it in face of every question that makes the philo­

sopher. He must be like Sophocles's Oedipus, who, seeking enlightenment concerning his terrible fate, pursues his indefatigable enquiry, even when he divines that appalling horror awaits him in the But most of us carry in our heart the Jocasta who begs Oedipus for God's sake not to

toward

This is knows the

too

undra­

pulse that beats sotto voce beneath the monologue where it is not difficult to detect the poet pinned sprawling to the wall: matic

double-entendre.

ciatively to the long poem, "The Double Image," and to "For John, Who Begs Me Not to Enquire Further"; and its expresses precisely the problem that is called attention to in the epigraph to To Bedlam and Part Way Back. The epigraph is a quotation from a letter of Schopenhauer to

inquire further

Your lips are animals; you are fed

with love. At first hunger is not wrong.

This

a

appears to refer

answer.

the infant that .

voce

or

old. From the dramatic surface of the poem, how­

40

This is the poem that has led some to speculate whether

an

text of the

.

afterthought, of

course,

in the

con­

volume; but it puts neatly the tension

that motivates all the poems. A small composi­ tion history may be illuminating. After Anne Sex­ ton had written the long poem "The Double Im­ age" she showed it to her teacher John Holmes,

NORTHWESTERN

TRI-QUARTERLY

who

angry and dismayed to find her reveal­ much of herself in her verse and attempted

was

ing prevent her publishing it. Her so

to

"For

was

John,

Who Begs

Further";

but

censorship

appears

even

here, to

Me in

be the

answer

Not to

to him

Enquire

her

rebuttal.

his

voice

of her

OWIl

The poem begins in explanation, and the attempted liberation of her

inner Jocasta.

justification;

of clarifying the difficulty by means of the metaphors of childbirth and mythology. Equiva­ lence between childbirth and poem-making is by manner

no

and

a

the

of my own selfish death

outstared me.

And if I tried to give you something else, something outside of myself, you would not know that the worst of anyone

be, finally,

"beach of assault"

accident of hope.

that

The movement away from solipsism, the only possibility for a poet who works from the specific to the

general, who does not stop at the moment lyrical narcissism, begins the middle of the

it was glass, an inverted bowl.

It is a small thing to rage in your own bowl.

At first it was private.

my

in

war,

brother,

and the voice says my small Johnny

brother, almost ten." But whose voice tells the truth? The poem's? Or Anne Sexton's, telling an interviewer "something to write down" that she did not have a brother who was killed during the -

can

your kitchen.

and outer

The witch's kitchen again. But the poem ends with a return to the lyrical moment, enlarged, however, by the experience of reaching out, so that the final declarative sentence is twice quali­ fied: There ought to be something special for someone in this kind of hope.

my kitchen, your kitchen,

"My face, your face," J ocasta's face;

it is the of "my own selfish death" that sees more than one face in "the cracked mirror"­ awareness

cracked to reflect both sides of the overwhelming

question whether or not to inquire, whether or not "Unknown

inquiry.

Girl

in

one.

The

double-entendre in

"Un­

known Girl," made in alternate rhyme to express its internal debate, and in "Where I Live in This

Honorable

House

Fall, 1963

of

the

Laurel

old as Saint John of Asia and

as new as Rimbaud Anne Sexton. Her synesthetic figures radiate most frequently from the sense of hearing. In "Music Swims Back to Me," where the synesthe­

or as

Tree,"

Wait Mister. Which way is home?

They turned the light out and the dark is moving in the corner.

There are no sign posts in this room, four ladies, over eighty, in diapers everyone of them.

La la la, Oh music swims back to me and I can feel the tune they played the night they left me in this private institution on a hill.

It is loss of the self that you feel here; and in an attempt to find it, the persona is impelled toward

pathetic fallacy:

the

Maternity Ward," Anne Sexton makes her decision, but it difficult

major literary device for attaining and ex­ pressing vision, in this sense, is synesthesia, as

...

my face, your face.

to express the results of

reality.

One

sia is at its simplest, she presents the Proustian notion that "the song remembers more than 1." The sense of vertigo and of loss is heavy:

This is something I would never find in a lovelier place, my dear, although your fear is anyone's fear, like an invisible veil between us all and sometimes in private,

the

apprehend the nature of both the self and the

other, separately as well as together, the kind of ego mobility that can slide freely between inner

Then it was more than myself; it was you, or your house

a

was

The answer is irrelevant. The infernal journey requires what can probably be called vision, a state of heightened or intensified perception that

I tapped my own head;

is

"He

war?

poem:

Like

poet; and it was Vergil, after all, who invented Just how

Not that it was beautiful,

or

so

metaphor of the golden bough. personally Anne Sexton pursues her fearful inquiry, however, is a matter of more con­ jecture than most of her readers are likely to understand. Where the lyric leaves off and the dramatic monologues takes up is frequently not clear. "For Johnny Pole on the Forgotten Beach," for example, looks like a lyric: its refrain, "Johnny, your dream moves summers/inside my mind," separates two sections of the poem that are concerned respectively with Johnny on the beach of a resort summer and with Johnny on a

verse:

but that, in the end, there was a certain sense of order there; something worth learning in the narrow diary of my mind, in the commonplaces of the asylum where the cracked mirror

can

Tennyson both felt such fear,

did Frost and Eliot; Plato was impelled to exclude poets from his ideal republic, himself

of free

of

new, and neither is the fear of annihila­

the tre«. Keats and

Oedipus from her J ocasta is reinforced by means

an

means

tion in poetry that is expressed in the metaphor of

is

her

Imagine it. A radio playing and everyone here was crazy.

I liked it and danced in a circle.

Music pours over the sense and in a funny way music sees more than I. I mean it remembers better;

41

remembers the first night here.

It was the strangled cold of November; even the stars were strapped in the sky.

"Stars

phorical paralysis of "Where 1 Live in This Hon­ orable House of the Laurel Tree" makes plain.

strapped in the sky" conveys of course the sense of restraint -literal, physical restraint "in this private institution"; vision here operates to merge the self consolingly with elements of the external world. The result, how­ ever, is not consoling, but suggests that the per­ .

.

.

The courtship, and the response to it, is one of the most vivid infernal events in the volume: Oh see the naughty clown and the wild parade while love love love grew rings around me.

This was the sound where it began;

-

and the stars

sona

house,

so

from

the

are

fellow inmates in

that the poem

breath pounding up to see the flying man breast out

our

prison­ by implication,

moves,

a

toward

the boarded sky and climb the air.

I remember the color of music

across

immediate, lyrical larger statement about the nature of the universe.

Like the stars, the persona is strapped in, but paradoxically, since she remarks the lack of sign moment

a

posts as if she were able to move like "the dark" itself: They lock me in this chair at eight a.m. and there are no signs to tell the way, just the radio beating to itself

a

circle

even

"Music Swims Back to Me"

Today the circus poster scabbing off the concrete wall and the children have forgotten if they knew at all.

Father, do you remember?

Only the sound remains, the distant thump of the good elephants,

"This

whose

flying man

the

on

an

color

erotic

at

the

synesthetic, was

means -

still

the sound where it began" becomes

lover,

equation

with

the

place­ and then

remember

of the

father

a

is

flying firmly

the

man, es­

off

ing man" and which makes the bells the father in liquid consonants and murmuring alliteration

.sca�bing -

divine

visual- "1

-

wo�ding Circus

of the

to Me," the persona "was not afraid" that is terrifying in context, since it is

or

perception be­

music becomes

as

tablished at the conclusion, which reverts to the image of "the bells" that "trembled for the fly­

"concrete

a

phrase

perfectly

deal clear that there is in both situations a great of is fear vertigo, the to fear: in "Music Swims" and loss of self; in "The Bells" the restraint the father's courtship, which is tabu, fear is the metaand which also produces restraint, as

42

as

the boarded sky"

across

to this moment of climax that the

referred to ironically as the hurt place in "Music Swims Back as wall." Here,

of

the father take

color of music." The

off" poster that is "scabbing

a

"breast out

afterward

paradise,

which is

to

that the undifferentiated,

comes

narcissism here, only the knowl­

made evident by

seen

point where the two have only one breath: "our breath pounding up to see"; and it is preparatory

and were instant to explain the three rings of danger.

is

is

with

I, laughing,

nature

and even the need for the mother

timidly expressed in a verb

or hermaphroditic, object, left over from childhood, is only vaguely indicated, as it is in dreams.

The excitement and suspense (and fear) shared

lifted to your high shoulder or small at the rough legs of strangers, was not afraid.

You held my hand

edge of the serpent

-

is

love

trembled for the flying man.

in

-

so

the voice of the ancient lions and how the bells

no

that for chil­

be

trapeze artist

is

awareness

has to be toned down in order

experience acceptable to the adult world. Thus sin becomes only "naughty" in this poem, and is fur­ thermore projected onto the other, the clown; and the "three rings of danger" which clearly refer to "love love/ love" which "grew rings around me" can be simply the literal circus rings. The divine lover, identified in "Where 1 Live" as Apollo, is here reduced to the childlike "flying man" another instance of substituting one im­ here it is a matter of displacing for another: age the divine, or tabu, attribute of the father onto the to

becomes "three rings of danger":

There is

rough legs of strangers"; the reason behind

dren

though there is irony in the lost circle of dancing confidence where she may have felt preserved like the Old Testament prophets in a circle of flames or like anyone in any magic circle anywhere.

Another ironic paradise lost is evoked in "The Bells," where again sound stirs the memory and where the circle in

way,

the understatement is the

Mister?

lost here too,

"The Moss of His Skin," which, by has a kind of tactile association with

in

plain

"the

and was not afraid.

is

experience that were seen

ments of the liebestod

the

more

Paradise

The word choice is designed to understate the ele­ so

and the song that remembers

than I. Oh la la la, this music swims back to me.

The night I came I danced in

and how forever all the trembling bells of you were mine.

that evoke the

sense

of touch: "all the trembling

bells of you/ were mine."

The bells

recur

in "Said the Poet to the Ana-

lyst" : My business is words. Words are like labels, or coins, or better, like swarming bees.

I confess I am only broken by the sources of things; as

if words were counted like dead bees in the attic,

NORTH WESTERN

TRI -QU ARTERL Y

their

from

unbuckled wings.

eyes

yellow

and

the door and count us at the frozen gates

their dry

of dinner. The shibboleth is spoken .

I must always forget how one word IS a bl t pick until I have got to manner out

another,

eo.

an�ther, have said

something I might

and we move to gravy in our smock

of smiles. We chew in rows, our plates scratch and whine like chalk

...

but did not.

in school. There are no knives

Bu� .for Instance, when I can write my praise for a nickel ma�hine, that one night in Nevada: telling how the magic

jackpot ..

the believing money.

preoccupations

ther

-

after

truth and the fa­

-

the persona, together that admit does "1/ flatly nothing," saying

here

come

like a

a

fatal woman; and it leads chilling anticlimaxes in

series of

the poem. Following the Dantean image of the dead who do not know they are in hell, an image

But if you should say this is something It IS not, then I grow weak, remembering how my hands felt funny and ridiculous and crowded with all

Two major

or

to the first of

screen. .

Again the bee is an alternate image, a second thought, chosen perhaps because it can sting like words

three bells out, over the lucky

came clacking

for cutting your throat.

I

Your business is watching my words. admit nothing. I work with my best,

when

expressed in sexual terms, the "laughing bee on a stalk" suggests pollination, but this expectation is sharply defeated in the next stanza by the qualifying words, "of death," until you recognize that what is given here is another form of the liebestod. If there is any doubt that this "summer dispelled "while

admission in her memory of "how my hands felt funny/and ridiculous and crowded with all/ the believing money." The admission

hotel" is really hell itself, it is they unlock/the door and count

appears to be that the money is the father's since it is the result of hitting the jackpot with

this

make

an

lo�e,

"three bells." The technique of substitution is at again here, in the displacement of the at­

work

titude of "believing," in the sense of

"credulous," from the persona to the money itself, a displace­ ment that

to

operates

strengthen the association

of the money with the father's love by suggesting that this literal paternal love believed itself in­ The

nocent. sona

displacement also permits the per­ credulousness, to

to draw back from her own

disavow it, as if to say that she had known all along what the analyst had said about her nar­ rative, "that this is something it is not."

The first stanza of the poem prepares the way for the second, in the admission that "Words are like labels / or coins" and in the afterthought that

a

better simile i� "bees" which have been

"unbuckled" from everything that gave them life in general

and

from

their

seeing

eyes

in

par­

ticular. There is life behind words too, or sepa­ which the words cannot always see; and in the stanza there is the knowl­

rate from them

'second

edge that there

is

life behind

or

separate from

things and events, life that words, things, events, "pick out" or "manner." The lirriitations of poetry here are almost as strong as they are in "Portrait of an Old Woman on the can only

College

Tavern Wall."

The image of the bees recalls the first poem in this volume

"You

Doctor Martin," where

is refe;red to

tal hospital

as a

a

men­

"summer hotel":

but

gates";

at the frozen

us

again

an

anticlimax

time to insist

on

the

is

presented,

ordinariness

of

hell:

the "frozen

gates" open only to "dinner." Juxta­ with the childhood reference to "school," posed the statement that "There

are

no

knives" is not

surprising until you get to the coda: "for cutting your throat."

images from childhood pattern through

Various

this poem: besides "chalk" and "school" there is "our smock," and in a subsequent stanza the persona

here,"

remarks, "What large children we are/

in the

same way that she later observes in "Music Swims Back to Me" that there are in

the

with her "four

room

ladies, over eighty'; in

diapers everyone of them." The mood of infantile regression

among

the

patients

is

conveyed

not

only through such explicit images, however; the

rhyme scheme is designed to resemble the repe­ tition of the abc's.

To Bedlam and Part Way Back is not wholly separated from Anne Sexton's second volume, All My Pretty Ones. For one thing, both the title and the epigraph to the second volume celebrate mourning; and part two of To Bedlam and Part Way Back, consisting of "For John, Who Begs Me Not to Enquire Further," "The Double Im­ age," and "The Division of Parts," is a kind of bridge, between the controlling theme of the first volume as expressed in its epigraph and in "For John" and the controlling theme of the second

volume,

as

set out

in its

epigraph,

a

quotation

from a letter of Franz Kafka to Oskar Pollak: the books we need are the kind that act upon like a misfortune, that make us suffer like the death of someone we love more than ourselves, that makes us feel as though we were on the verge of suicide, or lost in a forest remote from all human habitation a book should serve as the ax for the frozen sea within us. ...

You Doctor Martin, walk from to madness. Late August, I speed through the antiseptic tunnel where the moving dead still talk of pushing their bones against the thrust of cure. And I am queen of this summer hotel or the laughing bee on a stalk

breakfast

of death. We stand in broken lines and wait while they unlock

Fall, 1963

us

-

In the

apologia

first of

volume, immediately following the John, Who Begs Me Not to

"For

43

Enquire Further," mourning begins freely with "The Double Image," a long poem in five sections which

they

attempts to get behind words to the life Addressed to her second

represent.

ter, Joyce, who is

now

these

seven,

daugh­

stanzas

set

out the essential counters for the grave game of

being a woman. The fearful inquiry that has been in

conducted

the

volume

this

to

up

point

now

but also to the double

part is

whose other

woman

her daughter. The mother's portrait is A cave of a mirror

placed on the south wall; matching smile, matching contour.

And you resembled me; unacquainted with my face, you wore it.

image is really a triple image, made

The double

have appeared thus far and turns the whole flood

and the daughter; up of the persona, the mother, the end of the at visible becomes the triptych

of

poem:

picks up the vague suggestions of the mother that its

light

The

her.

upon

like

reads

poem

a

title, "The Double Image," is ostensibly concerned with a pair of portraits one of the persona, hanging in the family home its

personal history;

-

the other of her mother: In north light, my smile is held in place, the shadow marks my bone.

What could I have been dreaming as I sat there, all of me waiting in the eyes, the zone

The

I.

It is the mother who is being

mourned here; the

poem is written after her death: I

and

mother

remember

my

mother

again,

ror," and in All My Pretty Ones there is ends

which

Housewife"

"The

a

poem

A woman is her mother.

but for the self

as

well, that self "who chose two

times/ to kill myself." John Holmes's angry cism of this poem before publication may

criti­

which

does

to

response

the

narcissism

have

imagery break through, not only in the for but also in the form of this strange mourning foresees she death the self. In advance of her own like a dry / it in the mother's "cheeks wilting mirror

mocking mirror." It is

psychically

dead

Montefeltro

that

her.

no

poem

can

In

one

and no

a

who

...

believed

da

could

return

from

hell

sense

makes

she is right, the

descent

seen

your

head.

of course, with

someone

Image" refers not only

the cave of the mirror,

that double woman who stares

The

my

belly and

filled

your

bassinet, an

old debt I must assume.

feelings for the infant daugher, for in the one thing. And for another, it brings up, a that woman, penultimate line, the possibility like Leda, whose belly is flooded by a divine

this

else's

lover,

may

be responsible for unanticipated dis­

asters.

The same kind of truth, historical or not, creates two statements

On the first of September she looked at me and said I gave her cancer.

They carved her sweet hills out and still I couldn't answer.

On the other peak of the liebestod triangle is the mother, the "overthrown/ love" of an earlier stanza

in two

senses:

gether the mother "overthrown"

to the two

about the mother:

and

also

usurped,

the

by

the

ambiguity brings

to­

"first image" or first love, subsequent love for the father, as

mother

"overthrown"

also-ran,

as

discard,

by

the persona in

as

rivalry

for the father. The sense of victory over the moth­ still un­ er is expressed also in another poem,

collected, called "Consorting With Angels": NORTHWESTERN

44

me.

to

angels spoke

Ugly

leak like a broken faucet; if doom had flooded as

own.

to

at herself,

if she were Guido

say that he has

"The Double

as

like

one

damnation and not his

portraits,

above

mother to the

mourning then is not only for the mother,

since

had said your nickname

the mew ling months when you first came; until a fever rattled in your throat and I moved like a pantomime

This sounds like the truth the Greeks knew; it rattles the chain that binds the feelings for the

That's the main thing.

judge

..

.

the

with

statement that

to

the

I heard them say, was mine. They tattled like green witches in my head, letting doom

But the object of mourning is not so simple as mir­ that; the mother is after all "my mocking

my

immediately valid

blame,

somewhere in greater Boston, dying.

orchid;

more

first suicide attempt:

.

in

charge of narcissism while it tells

is the account of the circumstances that led to

.

before we chose our foreknown separate ways.

been

perhaps be­

"believing" confession that intends

a

only half the truth. Much

The artist caught us at the turning; smiled in our canvas home

The

other

the

of

endings

the

to be its weakest part,

to disarm the

we

called

it is

cause

In south light, her smile is held in place, her cheeks wilting like a dry orchid; my mocking mirror, my overthrown

me

unlike

ending,

poems, seems

the foxes' snare.

love, my first image

house

And this was my worst guilt; you could not cure me. nor soothe it. I made you to find

of the smile, the young face,

You call

I didn't want a boy,

...

only a girl, already loved, already loud in the of herself. We named you Joy. I, who was never quite sure about being a girl. needed another life, another image to remind me.

TRI-QUARTERLY

where, in a context of Easter imagery,

There were still men who sat at my table,

of Parts"

circled around the bowl I offered up.

The bowl was filled with purple grapes and the flies hovered in for the scent and even my father came with his white bone.

the persona .

It is this kind of knowledge that makes her say Given the remark that "a is

her

mother"

and

the

admission

as

in

"For John"

looks

like

an

elaboration of what appear to be the essentially "The Double

undramatic conflicts that underlie

Image.

"

.

.

she

acknowledges herself to be

one third of your daughters counting my bounty or I am a queen alone ...

to

Joyce that "I made you to find me," it is fairly clear that "The Double Image" repeats the ten­ sion in "For John," but in a new way. Now there are again two faces, and the "mocking mirror" of "The Double Image" is like the "cracked mirror" of "For John"; it reflects two aspects of the persona, but this time they are the persona as mother and as daughter. Seen in the light of this poem, the tension between the inner Oedipus and the inner Jocasta

that

I ha ve cast my lot and am one third thief of you,

"I couldn't answer." woman

announces

in the parlor still, eating the bread and honey.

Here again is the bee, although it is submerged "honey"; and again it

in the choice of the word

is

alternate

an

choice,

second

a

thought,

it

as

in "You, Doctor Martin," in "Music Swims Back to Me," and in "Said the Poet to the Ana­ was

lyst," so that it seems to be the result of further attempts to get behind words to life. What feelings the persona has that "Not for their own demerits, but for mine" her dead lie dead, appear to refer an awareness of this role of "queen alone,"

to

This poem clarifies the volume's controlling theme, which is the hesitation between the truth and the lie; it is always the mother who is the

wherever

she

whether

in

"a laughing bee upon

like

The bread and honey ever

kills

a

are

stalk/ of death." poisonous because who­ a

rival must die.

"The Double

All My Pretty Ones begins with the first knowl­ edge brought back from the descent into hell, in a

Moss of His

poem called "The Truth the Dead

censor,

may

appear,

Image," in "For John," in "The Skin," or in the reference to J ocasta in the epigraph.

But the poem also looks forward, in its mourn­ ing, to the theme of the second volume; and the anticipation reaches a crescendo in the last poem in To Bedlam and Part Way Back. Called "The Division of Parts," this poem continues to mourn, but from beneath a surface of feeling failure that recalls the erotic paralysis of "Where I Live in This Honorable House of the Laurel Tree." Un­ like Hamlet, who probably

protested

too much as

he leaped into Ophelia's grave, the persona here acknowledges her material inheritance with dis­

comfort and proclaims that Time, that rearranger of estates, equips ...

me

with your garments, but not with grief.

And yet the title of the second volume is All the quotation from Macbeth

My Pretty Ones,

amplified on the title page into the fuller speech of Macduff:

Know," which

recalls "Dover Beach." It is headed by

a

dedica­

tion: For my mother, born March 1902, died March 1959 and my father, born February 1900, died June 1959.

Like the concluding poem of To Bedlam and Part

Way Back, it is ostensibly what

it

seizes

instead

of

a

refusal to mourn;

grief is

the

day

of

physical love: Gone, I say and walk from church, refusing the stiff procession to the grave, letting the dead ride alone in the hearse.

It is June. I am tired of being brave.

We drive to the Cape. I cultivate

myself where the sun gutters from the sky, where the sea swings in like an iron gate and we touch. In another country people die.

My darling, the wind falls in like stones from the whitehearted water and when we touch enter touch entirely. No one's alone.

we

Men kill for this, or for as much.

And what of the dead? They lie without shoes

All my pretty ones?

Did you say all? 0 hell-kite! All?

What! all my pretty chickens and their dam At one fell swoop?

I cannot but remember such things were,

in their stone boats. They are more like stone than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.

...

That were most precious to me.

What is not reproduced on the title page is Mac­ duff's conclusion that ...

Sinful Macduff,

They were all struck for thee. Naught that I am, Not for their own demerits, but for mine, Fell slaughter on their souls, a

conclusion that very likely impels the defensive

protestations of lack of sentiment in "The Division

Fall, 1963

But here again responsibility for death, although it is explicitly denied, is implicit in the line "In another country people die"; the overtones that

Browning, Eliot, and Hemingway have given to the fairly neutral Marlowe original of this notion ring loud in the poem, especially as the line follows immediately another literary allusion­ the simile of the "iron gate," which refers direct­ ly to Marvell's "iron gates of life" in "To His Coy Mistress," another poem about the value of love in the face of death. As in Marvell, however, 45

the overriding emphasis is on the confrontation of death, which alone gives love whatever value it has. The elements of the Liebestod experience are shifted about here; death is now not effect but

absolute at the

sibility: Sleeping in fever, I am unfit to know just who you are: hung up like a pig on exhibit,

cause.

"The

Truth

the

Dead

Know"

the delicate wrists,

is

nothingness, annihilation, refusal "to be blessed"; and it is repeated in several poems in AU My Pretty Ones.

The short poem

the beard drooling with vinegar; hooked to your own weight, jolting toward death under your nameplate.

"Young" ends

The second crucifixion, "In the Deep Museum,"

the crickets ticked together and I, in my brand new body, which was not a woman's yet, told the stars my questions and thought God could really see the heat and the painted light, as

is

in

which

extreme

suf­

lungs gagging for air, die there for the sin of anyone, my sour mouth giving up the ghost?

addressed

Image,"

Cold and queer, I sting with life. I lied.

Yes I lied. Or else in some damned cowardice my body would not give me up. I touch fine cloths with my hands and my cheeks are cold.

If this is hell, then hell could not be much, neither as special nor as ugly as I was told.

away that,

to

anything further: .

of

My God, my God, what queer corner am I in?

Didn't I die, blood running down the post,

Joyce, which also fastens onto the day, in lieu of

.

resurrection, nature

Surely my body is done? Surely I died?

And yet, I know I'm here. What place is this?

I promise you love. Time will not take

.

beginning with the first

imminent

fering is emphasized:

We laugh and we touch.

Double

of

again the commonplace

And "The Fortress," a long poem addressed to the poet's elder daughter, Linda, observes that

"The

dramatic monologue,

a

awareness

elbows, knees, dreams, good night.

echoing

time that it denies its pos­

same

I say today believed

Put

in itself, or else it fell.

beside

"You, Doctor Martin," this poem brilliantly the poetic possibility that the metaphors of the madhouse and the crucifix­ ion are interchangeable representations of hell; and put beside "The Double Image," it demon­ illustrates

Today, my small child, Joyce, love your self's self where it lives.

There is no special God to refer to.

"From the Garden" expresses the same theme, simply, like Wordsworth's "The Tables Turned":

strates

the

Come, my beloved, consider the lilies.

We are of little faith.

We talk too much.

same

Written

house where white clouds

Longing for miracle, the and asks,

decorate the muddy halls.

Oh, put away your good words

observes four

Oh God,

your words like stones!

Come here! Come here!

although I am very sad,

Come eat my pleasant fruits.

attempts in All My Pretty

Ones to get beyond the day to a robust religious experience, but they all end either by emphasiz­ Rouault

persona

nuns

and your bad words. Spit out

a

in "Letter

grown rough and wrinkled with incurable age.

Let us consider the view:

as

My Pretty Ones,

Ferry While Crossing Long Island

or

without nurses or clocks.

ing,

a

without miracles or rage unusual hope,

growing there like yachts, slowly steering their petals

several

on

root.

The sea is the face of Mary,

the lilies open in such a field,

are

resurrec­

Sound,"

Put your mouthful of words away

There

emotional

In part five of All

and come with me to watch

a

also that abortive suicide and

tion are imaginative experiences that spring from

painting does, the terrible

or­

dinariness of Christ's suffering on the cross, or by invoking a daydream miracle so fanciful as to

deny entirely the possibility of mystery. Part two of this volume has its own epigraph:

could you please let these four nuns loosen from their leather boots and their wooden chairs to rise out over this greasy deck, out over this iron rail, nodding their pink heads to one side, flying four abreast in the old-fashioned side stroke; each mouth open and round,

breathing together fish do, singing without sound. as

If Christ I want no pallid humanitarianism be not God, I want none of him; I will hack -

my way through existence alone

And

.

Guardini.

improbably, the nuns sail forth as in a two­

dimensional pre-Renaissance Italian painting and

They call back to us Two

crucifixions

appear

in

this

first, "For God While Sleeping,"

is

section. a

The

lament in

which the first stanza expresses nostalgia for the

46

from the gauzy edge of paradise,

good news, good news The only real miracle in the poetry, however,

NORTH WESTERN

TRI -QU ARTERL Y

Only the tree has quietness in it; quiet as the crucifix, pounded out years ago

immortality of parents, their re­ incarnation in the spirit and flesh of their offspring.

is the Christ-like

gives its title to the volume, "All My Pretty Ones," and is addressed to the dead

In

poem that

a

father, the

persona

observes:

like a handmade shoe.

these poems is

I hold a five-year diary that my mother kept for three years, telling all she does not say

deed, in

Mother, father, and aborted child pay super­

a

stanza

where it is referred to in

outweighed by

an

what

Just yesterday,

short poem called "Ghosts"; and in "Old Dwarf Heart" the mother and father a

twenty-eight men aboard a damaged radar tower foundered down seventy mi es off the coast.

Immediately their hearts slammed shut.

The storm would not cough them up.

Today they are whispering over Sonar.

Small voice, what do you say?

Aside from going down, the awful wrench, the pulleys and hooks and the black tongue What are your headquarters?

Are they kind?

again. The epigraph to this poem is a a quotation from Hender­

tribute to Saul Bellow, the Rain King:

son

ancient place, older and truer

anticlimax that is heavily goes before it:

of wine?

appear

an

than any "gauzy edge of paradise." And the pos­ sibility of paradise is made to appear weak in­

of your alcoholic tendency. You overslept, she writes. My God, father, each Christmas day with your blood, will I drink down your glass

natural visits in

pain is in that simile; the inferno of

Predestined

True. All too true. I have never been at home in

life. All my decay has taken place upon a child.

..

Recalling the erotic paralysis of "Where I Live in This Honorable House of the Laurel Tree," the first stanza picks up the same theme and begins amplification:

in "Where I Live in This Honorable House of the

When I lie down to love, old dwarf heart shakes her head.

we re­ Laurel Tree," "quiet as the crucifix" turn here to the cold pastoral, the death-in-life -

Like an imbecile she was born old.

Her eyes wobble as thirty-one thick folds of skin open to glare at me on my flickering bed.

She knows the decay we're made of.

of

"thirty-one thick folds" refer not only to the ob­ vious erotic image but also to the age of this persistent child who, At her best is all red muscle, humming in and out, cajoled by time. Where I go, she goes. ..

·

..

poetry-,

reference to

on

ago/

like

a

antiquity both suggest poetry

as

a

the College Tavern Wall" and in "For John Begs Me not to Enquire Further."

'

The poem

ends,

as

the volume

does, with

an­

other double-entendre that expresses, as it does in "In the Deep Museum," both nostalgia for and denial of absolute love:

Dearest, where are your letters?

Old ornament, old naked fist, if I put on seventy coats I could not

even

you

The mailman is an impostor.

He is actually my grandfather.

He floats far off in the storm with his nicotine mustache and a bagful of nickels.

His legs stumble through baskets of eyelashes.

Like all the dead he picks up his disguise, shakes it off and slowly pulls down the shade, fading out like an old movie.

Now he is gone

cover

...

mother, father, I'm made of.

The last poem in All My Pretty Ones is written in the form of a journal addressed to "Dearest"; it begins with a reference to the dead: It is snowing, grotesquely snowing, upon the small faces of the dead. gone for

Those dear loudmouths buried side by side like little wrens.

'

over

a

you are gone.

But he belongs to me like lost baggage.

as

year,

Appropriately, this final poem picks up the major themes of the volume: mourning, the attempt to reach consolation

through religion and through

love, and the mystery of family relationships that are

years

Who

poem: ..

out

kind of Yeatsean continuum, a witch's kitchen like the kitchens in "Portrait of an Old Woman

Reincarnation is explicitly given at the end of the

·

"pounded

handmade shoe." The reference to craft and the

"Old Dwarf Heart" is the buried self, the recal­ citrant child upon whom decay has taken place;

·

The tree, however, is not only doom as repre­ sented by the ancestor; it is also poetry, as it was

as

durable

as

a

life after

death, their

con­

sequences in the individual felt as the effect of doom or of contagion. The first volume is echoed

here too,

as

it has been in many other

places;

the "stone tree" of "The Moss of His Skin" ap­ pears here compared to a crucifix:

Fall, 1963

So much for hope; but fear remains. Older than the mother and the

father, the ancestor here is "actually my grandfather"; and if he has carried off with him the promise of "a bagful of nickels" (to feed the slot machine with the hope of ringing up three

bells?), he has

not been able to break

the chain of contagion that binds the generations.

The luggage may be lost, but the persona still holds the check; and hanging around her neck are

all the keys.

47