Landmarks of American Literature PDF

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avavar. of .vericav iteratvre

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CON1LN1S

1. 1IL BLGINNINGS Ol AMLRICAN LI1LRA1URL
,
1o . !aterfror by \illiam Cullen Bryant , 1
rom !aaev by I. D. 1horeau , 18
2. NA1IANILL IA\1IORNL , 23
rom 1be caret etter , 32
3. ILRMAN MLLVILLL , 36
rom Mob, Dic , 43
4. LDGAR ALLAN POL , 49
rom 1be Rarev , 59
rom 1be a of tbe ov.e of |.ber , 62
5. \AL1 \II1MAN , 66
rom ovg of M,.ef , 1
6. MARK 1\AIN , 5
rom 1be .arevtvre. of vceberr, ivv , 83
. LMIL\ DICKINSON , 88
]. - 1be Cra.. .o itte ba. to ao ,93
]. 111 - 1bi. i. v, etter to tbe !ora,94
]. 12 - ecav.e cova vot .top for Deatb ,94
8. JACK LONDON , 96
rom 1be Ca of tbe !ia ,104
9. \ILLIAM lAULKNLR , 109
rom 1be ovva ava tbe vr, , 118
10.JOIN S1LINBLCK , 123
rom Of Mice ava Mev , 131
11.JLROML DAVID SALINGLR , 13
rom or .ve - ritb ore ava qvaor, 142
GLNLRAL BIBLIOGRAPI\ , 14

Cristina NICOLAL
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1HL BLGINNINGS OI AMLRICAN LI1LRA1URL

American literature diers rom all the other major
literary traditions in the world by its three characteristics: it
is essentially a modern, recent and international literature`
,Ruland 1991:3,. Iaing no ancient roots, as long as the pre-
Columbian ciilizations presented little interest or the
Luropean colonists, the origin o American literature lies at
the intersection between a generous land and the settlers
bearing a Renaissance Luropean culture. At the same time,
this literature was later built upon the myths brought by the
settlers rom Lurope and the myths they learned or built on
this new land.

Pba.e. iv tbe rovtiov of .vericav iteratvre
1. In the fir.t pba.e o its eolution, American literature
was neither American, since it belonged to the immigrants
rom Lngland, nor literature proper, but rather a mixture o
trael accounts and religious writings ,see igbigbt. 190: 5,.

1.1. 1rare .ccovvt.
1he trael accounts oten described the new territory
with exaggerations, either positie or negatie, most o them
with the purpose o attracting dissatisied inhabitants o the
Old \orld ,see Spiller 195: 15-16,. Among the writers o
such trael accounts, mention may be made o \illiam
Bradord who, in his history Of P,vovtb Pavtatiov, insisted on
the unriendly welcome proided or the colonists on the ship
Maylower` in 1620 by the American wilderness. On the

Cristina NICOLAL
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other hand, Captain John Smith, in his De.criptiov of êr
vgava, suggests that the same American wilderness oered
a ariety o natural resources or the colonists. \ith lrancis
Iigginson, New Lngland starts to be seen as a better world
than Lngland ,in his work êr vgava`. Pavtatiov,.

1.2. Reigiov. !ritivg.
1he religious writings at the beginnings o American
literature bore the sign o Puritanism, a new religion which
was initiated by the Lnglish immigrants. Settling on America`s
northern seacoast called New Lngland, the Lnglish settlers
wished to practise their religion reely, that is either to reorm
,puriy`, the Church o Lngland or to hae an entirely new
church. Massachusetts is known as the main residence o the
Puritans, whose ideas originated in the reorm promoted by
the lrench Protestant John Calin ,1509-1564,. According to
them, human beings were basically eil and nothing could be
done about it. Many human beings would be condemned to
go to hell and only a ew, the elect, would go to heaen.
Puritanism stressed the ideas o hard work, thrit, piety and
sobriety ,see igbigbt. 190:6,. 1he main Puritan writer was
Cotton Mather whose more than 350 works proed he was
an adocate o the Puritan ideal o hard work. Iis Magvaia
Cbri.ti .vericava ,102, represents a portrait gallery o Puritan
ministers, magistrates, and goernors in which the ounding
athers are idealized to appear as the chosen people. But the
Puritan writings consisted mainly o poetry because the
Puritans belieed that iction ought not to be read as it was
not true. Anne Bradstreet, or example, militated or a
rejection o worldly riches in aour o gaining the house o
Ieaen. Michael \igglesworth, in his amous poem 1be Da,


9

of Doov, described the day o judgment when most people
would be sent to hell and only the elect would go to heaen.
1he inest 1
th
century American erse belonged to Ldward
1aylor ,1645-129,, whose poetry was only discoered in the
20
th
century because he did not publish any line during his
lietime. Most o his poetry is a mental exercise to prepare
him or the duties o a minister and is illed with iid
imagery:
Oh! that my Ieart, thy Golden Iarp might bee
\ell tun`d by Glorious Grace, that e`ry string
Screw`d to the highest pitch, might unto thee
All Praises wrapt in sweetest Musik bring.
I praise thee, Lord, and better praise thee would
I what I had, my heart might eer hold.` ,1be perievce,
1he last deender o Puritanism was Jonathan
Ldwards ,103-158,, who tried to bring reason to the
Puritan dogmas by putting the most adanced psychological
knowledge o his day to the serice o theology. In his
Per.ova ârratire he tells how he discoered the innate
sinulness o the mortals and the satisaction o submitting to
God`s will. As a minister, he tried to arouse his parishioners
to a realization o their sins by writing sermons such as ivver.
iv tbe ava. of av .vgr, Coa whose passion and beauty o
orm hae neer been equaled. Jonathan Ldwards built a
philosophical system that marked the beginning o American
philosophy but at the same time encouraged a tragic sense o
guilt and agony which oerlie the peace o submission to
God`s will.

2. 1he .ecova pba.e in the eolution o American
literature is marked by pure literature written by American-

Cristina NICOLAL
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born writers on American subjects. It is the phase when some
enduring American myths were created and it starts towards
the end o the 1
th
century.

2.1. ev;aviv raviv ;1010)
Benjamin lranklin was a irst representatie o this
phase. Born in Boston in a poor amily o seenteen children,
he became amous as a statesman, scientist and author. Iis
work ranges rom inormal sermons on hard work, thrit and
other Puritan alues to urbane essays, most o which were
included in a popular periodical or calendar called Poor
Richard`s Almanac` printed by lranklin himsel. 1he almanac
contained many popular sayings such as God helps them
that help themseles` or Laziness traels so slowly that
poerty soon oertakes it.` Iis writing is clear, graceul and
witty, the style o the Lnglish periodical essayists, Joseph
Addison and Richard Steele.
lranklin`s most amous work is his .vtobiograpb,. It
tells the story o the poor boy`s rise to a high position.
lranklin shows a lot o modesty in telling his story by
omitting some o the honours he receied during his lie and
insisting on some o his errors and misdeeds. Viewing himsel
with objectiity, lranklin oers his lie story as an example to
the others, a positie lesson about how one can lead a useul
lie. In other words, the .vtobiograpb, is a book on the art o
sel-improement ,see igbigbt. 190:13, Spiller 195: 22-24,.

2.2. !a.bivgtov rrivg ;11:)
\ashington Iring creates a antasy world which deals
with the colonial past o the New \orld as well as with the
past o some oreign lands, such as Spain at the time o the


11

Moors. As concerns the ormer subject o his works, Iring
maniested a particular interest in the Dutch culture o
colonial New \ork, publishing a i.tor, of êr Yor frov tbe
egivvivg of tbe !ora to tbe va of tbe Dvtcb D,va.t,, b, Dieraricb
Kvicerbocer, a mock-serious history which was to become a
irst sample o American humour. 1he Dutch were as thrity
as the Puritans rom Massachusetts and they also belieed in
working hard and saing eery cent possible. \et, his most
amous short story, Rip rav !ive, published in 1be etcb
oo, has as main hero a Dutchman who is the complete
opposite o this ideal. \hen hunting, the lazy illager, Rip
an \inkle, meets some gnomes who make him drink
something that puts him to sleep. On awakening he inds his
illage greatly changed because now it is part o the United
States, the new nation ormed as a result o the Reolutionary
\ar o Independence ,15-183,, while beore he ell asleep,
it was under the British rule. 1hrough his works, Iring
contributed to the creation o American mythology ,see
igbigbt. 190:253, Spiller 195: 33-3,.

2.. ]ave. evivore Cooper ;11:1)
James lenimore Cooper imposed two igures to the
American mythology: the daring rontiersman and the bold
Indian. Iis exciting stories o the American rontier helped
create that part o American mythology most popular today:
the story o the cowboy and the winning o the American
\est. Iis eatber.tocivg erie., which includes his amous 1be
a.t of tbe Mobicav., is centred upon the lie o Natty Bumppo,
a rontiersman hero whose actions were shaped by the orest
in which he lied. Although the stories graitate around
bloody conlicts, the ighting is always intermingled with

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passages describing the quiet beauty o nature. Iis work
bears two main inluences: the epic account o historical and
legendary characters echoes the works o \alter Scott and
other romantic writers, while his pictorial imagination which
can be guessed in the art o counterpointing descriptions o
conlicts and iolence with scenes o orest beauty mirrors
Cooper`s particular interest in painting ,see igbigbt. 190:3,
Spiller 195: 40-44,.

2.1. Pbiip reveav ;1:212)
One o the irst poets o the new nation was Philip
lreneau who wrote in an elaborate language which was
indebted to his Lnglish models. Iis poems deal with
American subjects such as the short poems: Ov tbe vigratiov
to .verica, 1be vaiav vr,ivg Crovva, 1o tbe Mevor, of tbe rare
.vericav.. Ie was much interested in the uture o his
country and was an ardent supporter o the American cause
during the Reolutionary \ar ,see igbigbt. 190:49,.

2.:. !iiav Cvev r,avt ;111)
I lreneau is considered America`s irst great
nationalist poet, \illiam Cullen Bryant ,184-188, is
America`s irst naturalist poet. Ie turned to nature as a
source o poetic inspiration:
1o him who in the loe o Nature holds
Communion with her isible orms, she speaks
A arious language.`
Iis most amous nature poem, 1bavatop.i. ,the word
comes rom Greek and means iew o death`, deelops a
iew o death which sharply breaks rom the Puritan attitude
toward man`s inal destiny. I the Puritans saw death as a


13

preliminary to an ater-lie, Bryant treats death as part o
nature, the destiny o us all, the great equalizer:
. 1hou shalt lie down
\ith patriarchs o the inant world, with kings,
1he powerul o the earth, the wise, the good,
lair orms, and hoary seers o ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre.`
Ie takes comort not rom the expectation o an
ater-lie but rom the large company o human beings who
hae gone beore and who will ollow to the great tomb o
man`. Bryant adds that man should lie in such a way that he
will not be araid to die.
In other lyrics, lighter in tone, Bryant combined his
loe o nature with the belie in a God who guides man`s
destiny both in lie and in death. Many o his poems hae
themes typical o the 19
th
century American erse such as the
spiritual core o nature, the idealization o country lie as
opposed to city lie, loe lyrics, amous eents in American
history ,see Spiller 195: 3-39,.

3. 1he tbira pba.e in the eolution o American
literature can be identiied as a lourishment o the literary
creation in the new American state. Literature acquires now a
status o its own encouraging originality and appealing to the
newly created American myths. 1his third phase started in
the 19
th
century and is still in ull deelopment nowadays.

.1. 1rav.cevaevtai.v
1ranscendentalism was the Unitarian aith which
deeloped in the 1830`s and 1840`s promoted by some
enthusiasts gathered around Ralph \aldo Lmerson. 1he

Cristina NICOLAL
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initiator o this aith was \illiam Lllery Channing who
reolted, in his essay 1be Mora .rgvvevt .gaiv.t Carivi.v
,1820, against Calinism and Puritanism. Iis argument was
simple: the doctrines o man`s sinulness and o God`s
arbitrary grace are inconsistent with a aith in God`s goodness
and equity. 1he new belie proposed by Channing stated that
man should only rely on his own mind because the highest
aculties gien by God were conscience, the sense o right,
the power o perceiing moral distinctions`. 1he
construction o this belie was much inluenced by the new
German and Lnglish Romantic ideas. It laid the oundations
or the doctrine o reedom o the will ,see Spiller 195: 46-
4,.

.1.1. Rapb !aao ver.ov ;1012)
Ralph \aldo Lmerson proessed the 1ranscen-
dentalist ideas o sel-reliance, the moral sense, the exact
correspondence between natural law and moral law. In his
]ovrva, he describes his preparations or becoming a minister.
Iis sermons tried to reconcile Unitarianism with his
passionate desire or complete personal integrity. Iis arious
readings combined with some amily tragedies coninced him
to resign his pastorate and sail or Lurope. Ater one year
spent in Lurope, he came back to rebuild his lie. Ie started
to write his main work, âtvre ,1836,, in order to express his
new conictions. Iis doctrine stated that the inner, or moral,
or diinely inspired law o lie as perceied by the intuition is
paralleled, point or point, by the outer law o nature with its
multiorm reelations as perceied by the senses.` 1he prose-
poem âtvre echoes the rhetoric o the pulpit which
Lmerson was so amiliar with. 1hus, the pattern opens with


15

an initial establishment o a rapport with an unseen audience,
usually in a paragraph recalling a amiliar human experience.
1hen ollows a paragraph or two o generalizations to attract
the attention. linally the persuasie accent is laid by the series
o dictum ,statement,, argument and illustration. An example
o argumentatie style can be ound in the ollowing
ragment:
1he world proceeds rom the same spirit as the body
o man. It is a remoter and inerior incarnation o God, a
projection o God in the unconscious. But it diers rom the
body in one important respect. It is not, like that, now
subjected to the human will. Its serene order is iniolable by
us. It is thereore, to us, the present expositor o the diine
mind. It is a ixed point whereby we may measure our
departure. As we degenerate, the contrast between us and our
house is more eident. \e are as much strangers in nature as
we are aliens rom God.`
As a poet, Lmerson was a rebel writing thoughtul and
symbolic erse. lor him, poetry is moral, not didactic as it
was or Bryant. 1he poet studies and receies wisdom, but
does not teach it. Although he took inspiration rom the
British metaphysical poets ,Donne, Ierbert,, and rom the
Lnglish romantic poet Coleridge, he pleaded or originality o
idea and thought gien by the poet`s personal experience ,see
Spiller 195: 4-56,

.1.2. evr, Daria 1boreav ;1112)
Another member o the 1ranscendentalists` group was
Ienry Daid 1horeau. In the irst pages o his ]ovrva, he
emphasizes the necessity o being alone. Ie was amiliar with
oriental writings and belies but his interest was not only in

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abstract concepts but also in applying them in eeryday lie.
1hat is why, in order to experiment the doctrine o sel-
reliance, he built himsel a hut on the shore o \alden Pond,
in Concord, Massachusetts and ollowed the seasons once
with nature. 1his particular lie experiment which ollows the
model o Robinson Crusoe`s experience on the desert island,
is described in his amous work !aaev ,1854,. 1he reader is
inited to spend the cycle o seasons as deliberately as
Nature`, to sow and harest, to listen to the ice crack on the
pond o a winter night. Only by this close contact with nature
can man comprehend what is sublime and noble in each
present moment. 1he book combines real incidents,
presented with the help o circumstantial detail ,as in Deoe`s
book, with social and philosophical digressions and the
narratie imperceptibly rises to an exalted inal chapter o
realized ideals:
1he lie in us is like the water in the rier. It may rise
this year higher than man has eer known it, and lood the
parched uplands, een this may be the eentul year, which
will drown all our muskrates. It was not always dry land
where we dwell. I see ar inland the banks which the stream
anciently washed beore science began to record its reshets.`
As compared to the other 1ranscendentalists,
1horeau had wit proed by the aphorisms which reminded
his readers o Benjamin lranklin: Museums are the
catacombs o nature` or A man is rich in proportion to the
number o things he can let alone.` ,see Spiller 195: 56-60,.


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1o A Waterfrowl
William Cullen Bryant

\hither, midst alling dew,
\hile glow the heaens with the last steps o day,
lar, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue
1hy solitary way

Vainly the owler`s eye
Might mark thy distant light to do thee wrong,
As, darkly seen against the crimson sky,
1hy igure loats along.

Seek`st thou the plashy brink
O weedy lake, or marge o rier wide,
Or where the rocking billows rise and sink
On the chaed ocean-side

1here is a Power whose care
1eaches thy way along that pathless coast -
1he desert and illimitable air -
Lone wandering, but not lost.

All day thy wings hae anned,
At that ar height, the cold, thin atmosphere,
\et stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,
1hough the dark night is near.

And soon that toil shall end,
Soon shalt thou ind a summer home, and rest,

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And scream among thy ellows, reeds shall bend,
Soon oèr thy sheltered nest.

1hou`rt gone, the abyss o heaen
Iath swallowed up thy orm, yet, on my heart
Deeply has sunk the lesson thou hast gien,
And shall not soon depart.

Ie who, rom zone to zone,
Guides through the boundless sky thy certain light,
In the long way that I must tread alone,
\ill lead my steps aright.

from Walden (J8S4) by H. D. 1horeau
Chapter 7. 1he Bean-Iield

Meanwhile my beans, the length o whose rows, added
together, was seen miles already planted, were impatient to
be hoed, or the earliest had grown considerably beore the
latest were in the ground, indeed they were not easily to be
put o. \hat was the meaning o this so steady and sel-
respecting, this small Ierculean labor, I knew not. I came to
loe my rows, my beans, though so many more than I wanted.
1hey attached me to the earth, and so I got strength like
Antaeus. But why should I raise them Only Ieaen knows.
1his was my curious labor all summer - to make this portion
o the earth's surace, which had yielded only cinqueoil,
blackberries, johnswort, and the like, beore, sweet wild ruits
and pleasant lowers, produce instead this pulse. \hat shall I


19

learn o beans or beans o me I cherish them, I hoe them,
early and late I hae an eye to them, and this is my day's work.
It is a ine broad lea to look on. My auxiliaries are the dews
and rains which water this dry soil, and what ertility is in the
soil itsel, which or the most part is lean and eete. My
enemies are worms, cool days, and most o all woodchucks.
1he last hae nibbled or me a quarter o an acre clean. But
what right had I to oust johnswort and the rest, and break up
their ancient herb garden Soon, howeer, the remaining
beans will be too tough or them, and go orward to meet
new oes.
\hen I was our years old, as I well remember, I was
brought rom Boston to this my natie town, through these
ery woods and this ield, to the pond. It is one o the oldest
scenes stamped on my memory. And now to-night my lute
has waked the echoes oer that ery water. 1he pines still
stand here older than I, or, i some hae allen, I hae cooked
my supper with their stumps, and a new growth is rising all
around, preparing another aspect or new inant eyes. Almost
the same johnswort springs rom the same perennial root in
this pasture, and een I hae at length helped to clothe that
abulous landscape o my inant dreams, and one o the
results o my presence and inluence is seen in these bean
leaes, corn blades, and potato ines.
I planted about two acres and a hal o upland, and as
it was only about iteen years since the land was cleared, and
I mysel had got out two or three cords o stumps, I did not
gie it any manure, but in the course o the summer it
appeared by the arrowheads which I turned up in hoeing, that
an extinct nation had anciently dwelt here and planted corn
and beans ere white men came to clear the land, and so, to

Cristina NICOLAL
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some extent, had exhausted the soil or this ery crop.
Beore yet any woodchuck or squirrel had run across
the road, or the sun had got aboe the shrub oaks, while all
the dew was on, though the armers warned me against it - I
would adise you to do all your work i possible while the
dew is on - I began to leel the ranks o haughty weeds in
my bean-ield and throw dust upon their heads. Larly in the
morning I worked bareooted, dabbling like a plastic artist in
the dewy and crumbling sand, but later in the day the sun
blistered my eet. 1here the sun lighted me to hoe beans,
pacing slowly backward and orward oer that yellow graelly
upland, between the long green rows, iteen rods, the one
end terminating in a shrub oak copse where I could rest in
the shade, the other in a blackberry ield where the green
berries deepened their tints by the time I had made another
bout. Remoing the weeds, putting resh soil about the bean
stems, and encouraging this weed which I had sown, making
the yellow soil express its summer thought in bean leaes and
blossoms rather than in wormwood and piper and millet
grass, making the earth say beans instead o grass - this was
my daily work. As I had little aid rom horses or cattle, or
hired men or boys, or improed implements o husbandry, I
was much slower, and became much more intimate with my
beans than usual. But labor o the hands, een when pursued
to the erge o drudgery, is perhaps neer the worst orm o
idleness. It has a constant and imperishable moral, and to the
scholar it yields a classic result. A ery agricola laboriosus was
I to traellers bound westward through Lincoln and \ayland
to nobody knows where, they sitting at their ease in gigs, with
elbows on knees, and reins loosely hanging in estoons, I the
home-staying, laborious natie o the soil. But soon my


21

homestead was out o their sight and thought. It was the only
open and cultiated ield or a great distance on either side o
the road, so they made the most o it, and sometimes the man
in the ield heard more o traellers' gossip and comment
than was meant or his ear: Beans so late! peas so late!` -
or I continued to plant when others had begun to hoe - the
ministerial husbandman had not uspected it. Corn, my boy,
or odder, corn or odder.` Does he lie there` asks the
black bonnet o the gray coat, and the hard-eatured armer
reins up his grateul dobbin to inquire what you are doing
where he sees no manure in the urrow, and recommends a
little chip dirt, or any little waste stu, or it may be ashes or
plaster. But here were two acres and a hal o urrows, and
only a hoe or cart and two hands to draw it - there being an
aersion to other carts and horses - and chip dirt ar away.
lellow traellers as they rattled by compared it aloud with the
ields which they had passed, so that I came to know how I
stood in the agricultural world. 1his was one ield not in Mr.
Coleman's report. And, by the way, who estimates the alue
o the crop which nature yields in the still wilder ields
unimproed by man 1he crop o Lnglish hay is careully
weighed, the moisture calculated, the silicates and the potash,
but in all dells and pond-holes in the woods and pastures and
swamps grows a rich and arious crop only unreaped by man.
Mine was, as it were, the connecting link between wild and
cultiated ields, as some states are ciilized, and others hal-
ciilized, and others saage or barbarous, so my ield was,
though not in a bad sense, a hal-cultiated ield. 1hey were
beans cheerully returning to their wild and primitie state
that I cultiated, and my hoe played the Rans des Vaches or
them.

Cristina NICOLAL
22

Near at hand, upon the topmost spray o a birch, sings
the brown thrasher - or red mais, as some loe to call him -
all the morning, glad o your society, that would ind out
another armer's ield i yours were not here. \hile you are
planting the seed, he cries - Drop it, drop it - coer it up,
coer it up - pull it up, pull it up, pull it up.` But this was not
corn, and so it was sae rom such enemies as he. \ou may
wonder what his rigmarole, his amateur Paganini peror-
mances on one string or on twenty, hae to do with your
planting, and yet preer it to leached ashes or plaster. It was a
cheap sort o top dressing in which I had entire aith.


23

NA1HANILL HAW1HORNL
,1804-1864,

1. iobibiograpbica ôte.
Born in Salem, Massachusetts, Nathaniel Iawthorne
came rom a amily that had been amous in the early days o
the colony. Ie attended Bowdoin College where he was a
classmate o Longellow ,the author o 1be ovg of iaratba, a
poem based on American Indian legends, published in 1855,
and o \illiam lranklin Pierce, the 14
th
president o the
United States, whose biography he published in 1852.
Ater graduating he isolated himsel in a dismal
chamber` under the eaes o his mother`s house or 12 years
and made his literary apprenticeship. Ie read a lot o books
on the history o New Lngland as well as the Lnglish noels
o the eighteenth century ,especially lielding, Richardson and
Smollett,. Ie also became amiliar with the German and
Lnglish Romantic literature. 1he ruit o his isolation was the
publication, in 183, o a collection o antastic tales, 1rice
1oa 1ae.. Later he worked at the Boston customs house
which inspired him in writing the introduction to 1be caret
etter. Ie traelled a lot to Lngland, Italy and lrance.
1he list o his literary creations starts with av.bar: .
1ae published anonymously in 1828. 1he 1rice1oa 1ae.
,183, was the irst work published under his real name and
was ollowed by Mo..e. frov av Oa Mav.e ,1846,. 1be caret
etter was published in 1850, and one year later he wrote 1be
ov.e of tbe erev Cabe. and 1be vor vage. In 1852 he
published 1be itbeaae Rovavce and 1be ife of raviv Pierce

Cristina NICOLAL
24

and, beore he died, 1be Marbe avv ,1860, and Ovr Oa ove
,1863,.
In his literary work as a whole, Nathaniel Iawthorne
inestigated good and eil as well as moral responsibility rom
a Puritan perspectie. Ie did not ignore 1ranscendentalism
either, the moement promoted by Ralph \aldo Lmerson
and Ienry Daid 1horeau. Starting rom the problem o guilt
and sin conronted with Puritan rigours, Iawthorne
inestigates the human heart in its deepest recesses and
concludes that the essence o wrong lies in man`s isolation
rom mankind.
Iawthorne also wrote under the inluence o the
Romantic moement which becomes obious in his choice o
the romance instead o the realistic noel. As he deines it in
the preace to 1be ov.e of tbe erev Cabe., the proince o the
romance is situated somewhere between the real world and
airyland, where the Actual and the Imaginary may meet, and
each imbue itsel with the nature o the other.` I the noelist
is limited to the probable and ordinary course o man`s
experience`, the romancer tries to create a territory midway
between priate thought and the objectie world. In the
preace to 1be Marbe avv the requisites` o the romance
are enumerated: distance in space and time and a shadowy
certainty ,see Brooks 193:459,.

2. 1be caret etter
2.1. Pot
1he inest example o romance is 1be caret etter,
considered America`s irst undoubtedly great noel` ,Ruland
1991:144,. Published in 1850, this noel begins with an
introduction, 1he Custom Iouse`, a rame in which the


25

author tells the reader about the letter A which he ound on a
woman`s piece o clothing while working at the customs o
Salem. 1his introduction plays the part o distancing deice,
placing a screen between the reader and the intensity o
action. But in spite o this and o other historical acts, 1be
caret etter is not a historical noel: at the end o the
seenteenth century, the Puritans introduced a law against
adultery by which the adulterer,adulteress was whipped and
compelled to wear the letter A ,rom adulterer ,
adulteress`,, moreoer, some characters in the book are
historical igures - Goernor Bellingham, Goernor
\inthrop, Reerend \ilson, Mrs. Iibbins ,see Perez
1981:66,.
1he subject o the book is represented by the moral
and psychological results o sin, but it can also be read in a
classical key as a Christian tragedy, the action being structured
on the pattern o the theme o the lall, or as a Greek tragedy,
whose tragic heroine deies man-made laws and reaches the
status o a hero through her tragic law that at last both
destroys and ennobles her.
Iawthorne`s main concern is with the protagonists,
the guilty triangle made up o Iester Prynne, Arthur
Dimmesdale and Roger Chillingworth. Iester, an Lnglish-
born woman, is married to Roger Chillingworth, an
impassioned man o science. \hen she arries to Boston,
where Roger sent her to wait or his arrial, she has an aair
with a priest, Arthur Dimmesdale, out o which is born a girl
named Pearl. Iester is punished to bear the letter A, rom
adultery`, on her clothes, as a sign o her sin. \hen the girl
is born, Iester`s husband comes to Boston too. Ie realizes
his wie`s sin but, guessing who was the man she had an aair

Cristina NICOLAL
26

with, he decides to punish Dimmesdale by sureying his
suering o being unable to coness. In the end, Dimmesdale
conesses and dies on the scaold. Chillingworth also passes
away, while Iester turns back to lie in her house and Pearl
will marry and lie happily in Lurope.

2.2. .va,.i.
In point o content and composition the noel is
structured in ie moements ,see Brooks 193:446-451,. 1he
irst moement is deeloped in the irst our chapters o the
book and represents a sort o exposition in which the
characters are presented. 1he second moement o the noel
,Chapter 4 to Chapter 12, has a more narratie and analytical
aspect. It describes the lie Iester leads in her moral isolation
as well as the relation between Dimmesdale and
Chillingworth.
1he third moement o the noel deelops rom
Chapter 13 to Chapter 1. Iester tries to persuade
Chillingworth to hae mercy on his ictim but the latter
reuses. 1hen, snatching the letter A rom her bosom, she
proposes Dimmesdale to lee rom America with her and
seek a new lie.
1he ourth moement o the noel ,Chapter 18 -
Chapter 20, presents Pearl`s reaction when seeing her mother
without the letter A on her bosom: she simply denies Iester`s
identity. Iester`s gesture also stirs up Dimmesdale`s energy:
he rushes homeward and his sympathy or the sinners turns
into a desire to entrap them in their own moral corruption.
1he last moement o the noel ,Chapter 21 -
Chapter 24, reaches its climax in the scene o Dimmesdale`s
public conession. 1hrough this conession, Dimmesdale


27

escapes both rom Chillingworth ,who had been the symbol
o his inner torment, and rom Iester ,the image o nature,
lesh, sexuality, woman as the unclean one,.
1be caret etter is built upon a set o contrasts. In the
beginning o the story, the moment when Iester steps orth
rom the jail to ace public shame, there is a deep contrast
between the sad colored garments` o the men and the wild
rose bush blooming at the door o the jail. 1his contrast is
the irst indicator o the thematic tension. 1he next contrast
lies in the act that the women waiting at the jail, who, as
women, should naturally` exhibit more sympathy and
understanding or Iester`s ate, are more saage than the
men in their condemnation, that is, there is a contrast
between their natural role and their social role. An obious
contrast is represented by the scarlet A that appears on
Iester`s bosom, it is embroidered in gold thread with a
gorgeous luxuriance o ancy` thus representing an object o
beauty, while socially it is the badge o inamy. 1his set o
contrasts leads, in act, to another and deeper paradox which
consists in the act that the act o sin is presented as the
source o deeper understanding and moral eolution ,see
Brooks 193:446,.
In point o composition, the scaold is crucial or the
whole conception o the noel, which is structured with
complete symmetry around the three scaold scenes. In the
irst scene ,Chapter 2,, Iester stands on the scaold which
thus appears as the place o public shame: it isolates her rom
the hostile Puritan community, her suering being increased
by the presence in the crowd o her secret loer and o her
husband. 1hen, in the middle o the noel ,Chapter 12, the
great scene o Dimmesdale`s midnight igil` has the same

Cristina NICOLAL
28

setting. 1his chapter marks the climax o the action, when
Dimmesdale, unable to endure the consciousness o his guilt,
climbs the scaold at midnight and shrieks. \et, Dimmesdale
gies up the idea o conessing and implicitly asking or help,
realizing that no power can help him. 1he other key
characters are also present in this second scaold scene, too:
Iester and Pearl join Dimmesdale on the scaold and
Chillingworth spies them at a distance. 1he denouement with
Dimmesdale`s death also happens on the scaold ,Chapter
23, which becomes the place o his public conession.
1hereore the scaold represents the central image and
symbol o the noel, a place or agony and ision, but also a
place o physical and moral torment, i not o redemption.
1he characters o the noel are complex and well
deined. Iester Prynne represents the romantic iew. 1he sin
she commits is passion, she does not consider that she has
wronged her husband, so much older than hersel and whom
she married without loe. According to her own morality, she
has committed no sin and she neer repents. Ier remorses
are caused by her realizing that she has been the instrument
o Dimmesdale`s ruin.
Iester is ull o energy and this makes her stronger
than either o the men. She ollows her own course o
suering, rom the shame and desperation at the beginning to
a strong acceptance o her suering and retribution. Ier guilt
is absoled through her public suering and her good deeds.
By enduring and transcending suering she gains in dignity
and awareness o social responsibility ,see Perez 1981:6,.
Arthur`s morality is dierent rom hers, he struggles
against himsel, between loyalty to a theology o perection
and the consciousness o his own guilt. Ie cannot conceie


29

o being a minister i he is a sinner like the rest. Arthur is
inally redeemed because o his suering which has made him
a truly tragic igure. In the end he accepts the responsibility o
atherhood and thus the responsibility or his share o guilt.
Chillingworth, although the wronged husband, is the
source o the others` tragedy. Ie is presented as a Doctor
laustus who has sold his soul to the deil and uses science to
harm the man he most hates.
1he characters` names are symbolical. Pearl` is a
Biblical allusion to St Matthew`s pearl o great price` and
suggests the incomparable alue o the hope o heaen.
Iester` is the modern orm o the Old 1estament Lsther`,
a character gited with beauty, strength and dignity.
Courageous and loyal, the Biblical Lsther deends the weak
and oppressed people o the Jews. 1he weak` people
deended by Iester are her own kind, i. e. the weaker sex.
1he name Arthur` contains a reerence, both descriptie
and ironic, to King Arthur as symbolical o a man deoted to
a high ideal, Dimmesdale` deries rom dim` ,suggesting
weakness, darkness, and dale` ,alley - a metaphor o the
heart, reerring to the darkness o the character`s heart.
Chillingworth` is also made up o two words: chill`
reerring to the cold intellect that commits a cold sin, and
worth`, the merits he had once, when he was a worthy man,
decent and sel-controlled ,see \aggoner 191:145,.
Another matter that has incited critics when analysing
this noel is whether it pertains to allegory or symbolism.
Richard Chase ,198:81, makes a clearcut distinction between
pure allegory and symbolic literature. Pure allegory inoles
the existence o two ixed discourses, a language o static
signs and a set o generally accepted truths to which they

Cristina NICOLAL
30

reer, symbolic or symbolistic literature is seen as a response
to disagreements about the truth, its purpose being to create
and discoer truth. By proing the laws o making one
precise choice between the two literary terms that can be
applied to 1be caret etter, Richard Chase creates a iew o
his own by combining allegory and symbolism, which seems
to us too as the best choice in discussing this noel. 1he main
iews seen by Chase as hal truths` belong to amous
Iawthorne critics: \or \inters calls 1be caret etter pure
allegory` by assigning what he considered generally agreed
upon truths to the three main characters: Iester represents
the repentant sinner, Dimmesdale - the hal-repentant sinner
and Chillingworth - the unrepentant sinner. Ironically
enough, the best argument to demonstrate that 1be caret
etter is not pure allegory can be ound in \or \inters` book
and it pertains to literary technique, being called the ormula
o alternatie possibilities`. Iawthorne resorts to this
technique in order to transcend the accepted allegorical
meaning o his symbols by oering more characters`
interpretations o the same symbol.
In his critical study on Iawthorne, Iyatt \aggoner
comprehensiely presents in the chapter deoted to 1be
caret etter ,see \aggoner 191:126-159, the symbols o the
book along with some ranges o meanings. According to him,
the most numerous images in the book are those o colour,
light and shade, with the opposition red , black perailing.
But while black is associated with eil in all cases, red has
ambiguous connotations: it suggests moral eil ,the colour o
the letter is red,, but also moral good ,Pearl is dressed in red,.
Light can also be ambialent, with sunlight suggesting truth
and health and the light o meteors suggesting alsity. 1he


31

light images are tightly connected with the portraits o the
characters ,while Dimmesdale and Iester are built as
combinations o dark and light, Chillingworth is seen only in
dark shades, as well as with the three scaold scenes ,in the
irst and last scaold scenes the sunlight reeals sin, while in
the middle scaold scene the alse light o the meteor
achiees no reelation,. 1he lower and weed imagery can be
ound under two orms: unnatural lowers and weeds
suggesting moral eil and being associated with Chillingworth,
the Puritans and partially with Iester and natural lowers ,the
rose, associated with natural good ,Pearl,. Iester is also
associated with normal lowers, while Dimmesdale with no
natural growing thing at all. 1he heart images occur rather
requently in this book, either properly ,Dimmesdale`s gesture
o putting his hand oer his heart, or suggestiely: heart as a
grae, chamber, hearth, orest, the place where the deil can
best set his mark.
1his irst American noel neer ceases to incite new
interpretations and, in spite o its placement in an old-
ashioned Puritanical Boston, 1be caret etter aims at
uniersality by its dwelling on such general human issues as
the perception o sin, man`s isolation rom the world and its
consequence - alienation, but also a true understanding o
religion.

Cristina NICOLAL
32

Irom 1he Scarlet Letter (J8S0)
Chapter XII, 1he Minister's Vigil

\alking in the shadow o a dream, as it were, and
perhaps actually under the inluence o a species o
somnambulism, Mr. Dimmesdale reached the spot where,
now so long since, Iester Prynne had lied through her irst
hours o public ignominy. 1he same platorm or scaold,
black and weather-stained with the storm or sunshine o
seen long years, and oot-worn, too, with the tread o many
culprits who had since ascended it, remained standing
beneath the balcony o the meeting-house. 1he minister went
up the steps.

It was an obscure night in early May. An unwearied
pall o cloud muled the whole expanse o sky rom zenith
to horizon. I the same multitude which had stood as eye-
witnesses while Iester Prynne sustained her punishment
could now hae been summoned orth, they would hae
discerned no ace aboe the platorm nor hardly the outline
o a human shape, in the dark grey o the midnight. But the
town was all asleep. 1here was no peril o discoery. 1he
minister might stand there, i it so pleased him, until morning
should redden in the east, without other risk than that the
dank and chill night air would creep into his rame, and
stien his joints with rheumatism, and clog his throat with
catarrh and cough, thereby derauding the expectant audience
o tomorrow's prayer and sermon. No eye could see him,
sae that eer-wakeul one which had seen him in his closet,
wielding the bloody scourge.

\hy, then, had he come hither \as it but the
mockery o penitence A mockery, indeed, but in which his


33

soul triled with itsel! A mockery at which angels blushed
and wept, while iends rejoiced with jeering laughter! Ie had
been drien hither by the impulse o that Remorse which
dogged him eerywhere, and whose own sister and closely
linked companion was that Cowardice which inariably drew
him back, with her tremulous gripe, just when the other
impulse had hurried him to the erge o a disclosure. Poor,
miserable man! \hat right had inirmity like his to burden
itsel with crime Crime is or the iron-nered, who hae
their choice either to endure it, or, i it press too hard, to
exert their ierce and saage strength or a good purpose, and
ling it o at once! 1his eeble and most sensitie o spirits
could do neither, yet continually did one thing or another,
which intertwined, in the same inextricable knot, the agony o
heaen-deying guilt and ain repentance.

And thus, while standing on the scaold, in this ain
show o expiation, Mr. Dimmesdale was oercome with a
great horror o mind, as i the unierse were gazing at a
scarlet token on his naked breast, right oer his heart. On that
spot, in ery truth, there was, and there had long been, the
gnawing and poisonous tooth o bodily pain. \ithout any
eort o his will, or power to restrain himsel, he shrieked
aloud: an outcry that went pealing through the night, and was
beaten back rom one house to another, and reerberated
rom the hills in the background, as i a company o deils,
detecting so much misery and terror in it, had made a
plaything o the sound, and were bandying it to and ro.
It is done!` muttered the minister, coering his ace
with his hands. 1he whole town will awake and hurry orth,
and ind me here!` But it was not so. 1he shriek had perhaps
sounded with a ar greater power, to his own startled ears,

Cristina NICOLAL
34

than it actually possessed. 1he town did not awake, or, i it
did, the drowsy slumberers mistook the cry either or
something rightul in a dream, or or the noise o witches,
whose oices, at that period, were oten heard to pass oer
the settlements or lonely cottages, as they rode with Satan
through the air. 1he clergyman, thereore, hearing no
symptoms o disturbance, uncoered his eyes and looked
about him. At one o the chamber-windows o Goernor
Bellingham's mansion, which stood at some distance, on the
line o another street, he beheld the appearance o the old
magistrate himsel with a lamp in his hand a white night-cap
on his head, and a long white gown eneloping his igure. Ie
looked like a ghost eoked unseasonably rom the grae. 1he
cry had eidently startled him. At another window o the
same house, moreoer appeared old Mistress Iibbins, the
Goernor's sister, also with a lamp, which een thus ar o
reealed the expression o her sour and discontented ace.
She thrust orth her head rom the lattice, and looked
anxiously upward. Beyond the shadow o a doubt, this
enerable witch-lady had heard Mr. Dimmesdale's outcry, and
interpreted it, with its multitudinous echoes and
reerberations, as the clamouros the iends and night-hags,
with whom she was well-known to make excursions in the
orest.
Detecting the gleam o Goernor Bellingham's lamp,
the old lady quickly extinguished her own, and anished.
Possibly, she went up among the clouds. 1he minister saw
nothing urther o her motions. 1he magistrate, ater a wary
obseration o the darkness - into which, neertheless, he
could see but little urther than he might into a mill-stone -
retired rom the window.


35

1he minister grew comparatiely calm. Iis eyes,
howeer, were soon greeted by a little glimmering light,
which, at irst a long way o was approaching up the street. It
threw a gleam o recognition, on here a post, and there a
garden ence, and here a latticed window-pane, and there a
pump, with its ull trough o water, and here again an arched
door o oak, with an iron knocker, and a rough log or the
door-step. 1he Reerend Mr. Dimmesdale noted all these
minute particulars, een while irmly coninced that the
doom o his existence was stealing onward, in the ootsteps
which he now heard, and that the gleam o the lantern would
all upon him in a ew moments more, and reeal his long-
hidden secret. As the light drew nearer, be beheld, within its
illuminated circle, his brother clergyman - or, to speak more
accurately, his proessional ather, as well as highly alued
riend - the Reerend Mr. \ilson, who, as Mr. Dimmesdale
now conjectured, had been praying at the bedside o some
dying man. And so he had. 1he good old minister came
reshly rom the death-chamber o Goernor \inthrop, who
had passed rom earth to heaen within that ery hour. And
now surrounded, like the saint-like personage o older times,
with a radiant halo, that gloriied him amid this gloomy night
o sin - as i the departed Goernor had let him an
inheritance o his glory, or as i he had caught upon himsel
the distant shine o the celestial city, while looking
thitherward to see the triumphant pilgrim pass within its gates
- now, in short, good lather \ilson was moing homeward,
aiding his ootsteps with a lighted lantern! 1he glimmer o
this luminary suggested the aboe conceits to Mr.
Dimmesdale, who smiled - nay, almost laughed at them -
and then wondered i he was going mad.

Cristina NICOLAL
36

HLRMAN MLLVILLL
,1819 - 1891,

Born in New \ork City, in a well-to-do amily,
Ierman Melille was the son o a merchant. Ater his ather`s
death in 1832, Melille let school and was largely an
autodidact, doing extensie reading rom Shakespeare, the
Bible, 1
th
century meditatie writers, such as Sir 1. Browne,
as well as numerous historical, anthropological and technical
works. Ie sailed as a boy` on a ship to Lierpool in 1839. In
1841 he shipped on a whaler or the South Seas, only to join
the US Nay 18 months later. 1hree years later he let the
Nay and embarked himsel on a writing career.
Iis irst work, 1,pee or a Peep at Po,ve.iav ife ,1846,,
an adenture sea story, enjoyed immediate success, just like
Ovoo. . ârratire of .arevtvre. iv ovtb ea. published one
year later. Ie urther wrote an allegorical romance, Marai ava
a 1o,age 1bitber ,1849, and two realistic sea stories, Reabvrv -
i. ir.t 1o,age ,1849, and !bite ]acet or tbe !ora iv a Mav
of!ar ,1850,. In 1851 he published his masterpiece Mob,
Dic or 1be !bae. Other three books ollowed: Pierre, or tbe
.vbigvitie. ,1852,, .rae Potter. i. ift, Year. of ie ,1855,
and 1be Covfiaevce Mav. i. Ma.qveraae ,185,. Ie also wrote
noelletes ,the most amous being i, vaa, aior - 1924,
and poetry ,such as the olume Care - 186,.
Melille joined in his works the two main sources o
American romance: the pastoral nostalgia and the Calinist
drama o the mind in its search or good and eil` ,Perez


37

1981:8,. I at irst he was attracted by the transcendentalist
doctrine, whose main tendency was to stress the bright side,
later on he realized that such a one-sided iew led to a gap
between mind and heart, that is to a supericial inestigation
o the human condition. Lie did hae its bright side but it
could also be tragic and the tragedy o lie, in his own
opinion, was the broken balance between mind and heart.
A major theme o his works is the theme o surial.
1he characters who succeed in inding a way to lie in a dark
world are people who ind harmony and balance between
their minds and their hearts. In connection to this is the
theme o the oyage, seen as representing a means to help the
character in his struggle or surial. 1he theme o the oyage
also implies a person`s initiation into the harsh realities o lie,
a baptism into the reality o lie` ,Mob, Dic,. 1his theme
should also be perceied in terms o a loss o innocence, a
ortunate` all rom innocence to experience. Another
theme that appears in his works is the opposition between
ciilization and the primitie world, the latter inoling a lie
o reedom, reedom rom ciilization and rom the dogmas
o Christianity. Other themes are expressed by the moti o
the ship as a microcosm o society, while eil is regarded as
haing both indiidual and institutional roots. Melille`s
characters are placed in exceptional situations, in unusual
settings or exotic lands where their physical being is put to a
seere test o surial and their good or bad moral being is
the ery condition o that surial. Melille elaborated an
original method o cunningly linked analogies` using symbol
to transcend the gap between essence and appearance.

Cristina NICOLAL
38

2. Mob, Dic or 1be !bae
2.1.Pot
Mob, Dic or 1be !bae was irst published in London
in 1851, being censored or some o its political and moral
content. One month later came the American publication o
the noel which was poorly receied by critics and readers
being considered a weird, mystical and impossible tale. Its
sin` was that o surpassing the book o adenture` label o
Melille`s preious works and o gaining a prophetic eature.
1he story o the oyage o the whaling ship Peqvoa is
drawn, at least partially, rom the experiences o its author
while a sailor and a harpooner on whaling ships beore
settling in New Lngland as a writer. 1he title character o
Moby Dick was inspired by an article in Kvicerbocer Magaive
in May 1839 entitled Mocha Dick: or the \hite \hale o
the Paciic.` 1he article described the capture o a giant
sperm whale, legendary among whalers or its icious attacks
on ships. 1he whale was named as such ater the Mocha
Islands, the area where the whale was commonly sighted,
while Dick` was used simply because it was a common male
name. 1he origin o the Moby` o the noel's title has neer
been conclusiely determined.
1his great epic romance deelops the theme o the
search, irst o all under the orm o a realistic sea-oyage.
1he narrator o the story, Ishmael, describes the oyage o a
whaler, the Peqvoa, rom Nantucket down the coast o South
America, around the Cape o Good Iope, and up through
the China Seas o the North Paciic. 1he oyage is a
reengeul hunt or one particular whale, the great Moby
Dick, which embodies or Ahab, the mono-maniacal captain
o the ship, the ultimate mystery. 1he whale is eentually


39

ound and, ater a three-day chase, the Peqvoa is destroyed
and sunk by the injured whale, all the crew dying except or
Ishmael. At a deeper leel, it deals with the pursuit o the
ungraspable phantom o lie`, the attempt to seek the mystery
which lies at the heart o human experience.

2.2. .va,.i.
1he 135 chapters o Mob, Dic can be diided in three
stages, as Brooks, Lewis et al. ,193: 820, suggest. 1he irst
stage ,Chapter 1 to Chapter 42, lays stress upon the mystery
and the inescapable challenge o the unknown. Ishmael, the
irst-person narrator o the story, is introduced to us, thus
sering or introducing the theme o the quest ,see Brooks
193: 820-824,.
Ahab, the captain o the Peqvoa, is also presented in
this irst stage ,Chapter 28,. Ie appears as an extraordinary
man who reuses to accept the human limitations and
introduces the theme o courage, a courage which surpasses
the braery o the other men on the ship. Iis courage lies in
his being capable o acing not only physical danger but also
spiritual terrors. Ie also represents the theme o suering
and unexplained grie. It was not only a eeling o loss that
sent him to the sea ater Moby Dick had bitten o his leg,
but also one o spite turned into irrational hatred because his
ego had been wounded. Ie is a most contradictory
personality and his determinate, unsurrendable willulness`
associates him with Milton`s Satan whereas the cruciixion in
his ace` ,that is the sign o the cross on his ace, associates
him with Jesus.
1his irst stage deotes two chapters to Moby Dick
himsel ,Chapters 41 and 42,, which appears as a symbol

Cristina NICOLAL
40

whose arious interpretations depend on the onlooker. lor
Ahab it represents all that maddens and torments, all that
stirs up the lees o things, all the truth with malice in it, all
that cracks the sinews and cakes the brain, all the subtle
demonisms o lie and thought, all eil`. Ater his irst
meeting with the whale ,when he loses his leg,, Ahab ocuses
upon the whale all the general rage and hate elt by his
whole race rom Adam down`. lor Starbuck, the second
mate o the Peqvoa, the whale has a great intelligence, but it is
nothing but a dumb beast`. In Chapter 42 the whiteness o
the whale is seen as representing the demonism o the
world`. 1o Ishmael, whiteness means heartlessness,
emptiness o the unierse, suggesting sheer nothingness and a
total oid o meaning.
In the second stage o the noel ,Chaper 43 to
Chapter 106,, Melille describes almost eery aspect o lie
aboard a whaling essel. Other ships are encountered,
messages are exchanged. 1here are soliloquies, dialogues,
minor adentures ,see Brooks 193: 824,.
1he third stage ,Chapter 10 to Chapter 135, presents
Ahab, with his new iory leg cared, preparing or the inal
battle with the whale. In Chapter 119 Ahab addresses the
spirit o ire, introducing the principle o authority. Ahab is
the ery image o authority through his total command o the
ship and o its crew. Ie also appears as bearer o the
American theme, the assertion o the democratic belie in the
independence and sel-reliability o the single person, o
unending resistance to any orm o non-human repression.
On a higher leel o interpretation, the scene is a mythical
one describing the relation between man and the unierse.


41

As the action moes to its climax, Ahab assumes a
greater stature and shows greater courage and determination.
But it is a stature beyond the limits o mortal men, it
surpasses the boundaries o logic and reason, and its eect is
catastrophic. \hen the chase is oer, Ahab inds his death
helplessly tied to the back o the white whale. 1he Peqvoa is
splintered and sunk and the members o the crew drowned,
except or Ishmael. Ishmael returns to land both chastened
and restored, now willing to lie within the limits o human
possibilities ,see Brooks 193: 824-825,.
Although structurally the noel is a heterogeneous
combination o mythic patterns, olklore themes, ritual
actions, accurate descriptions, encompassing both the real
and the marelous, one can howeer distinguish a number o
major themes o uniersal appeal. One o them reers to
blasphemy, Ahab appearing as a blasphemous character in his
quest or the whale. 1his blasphemy takes two orms: the irst
type o blasphemy is bvbri. ,Ahab thinks himsel the equal o
God,, the second - a rejection o God in aour o the
alliance with the deil. Another theme is the contrast between
ciilized and pagan society. 1he relationship between the
cannibal Queequeg and Ishmael ,who are subjected, at the
beginning o the book, to a symbolic marriage ritual which
unites them in an indestructible riendship all along the
oyage, illustrates the contrast between ciilized, speciically
Christian societies, and unciilized, pagan societies, mostly in
aour o the latter.
Another important theme o the book is related to
nature which can punish the man who deies its power. Sea,
the most important element o nature in the book, is equally
its all-encompassing symbol` ,Perez 1981: 83,. It is the

Cristina NICOLAL
42

Great Deouring Mother o eerything, promising and
treacherous, tender and destructie` ,Perez 1981: 83,.
As Daniel Ioman ,193: 235-236, suggests, Ahab
and his men are attracted to sea apparently or dierent
reasons, but essentially the same. It is the same story o
Narcissus as a seeker, a sollipsist and a sel-loer. 1his myth is
reenacted by the introduction o the doubloon ,the coin
nailed to the mast by Ahab as a reward or Moby Dick,,
which is examined by each member o the crew. \hat each
o them sees in the doubloon is the same phantom o lie`,
but they read it according to their own nature. lor example,
Starbuck, a true Christian, sees the 1rinity in the coin ,so or
him aith is the meaning o lie,, wheareas llask, a greedy
man, sees it as a coin being worth a certain sum o money.
Ahab sees nothing but his own image in the doubloon: three
peaks as proud as Lucier, the irm tower that is Ahab, the
courageous, the undaunted and ictorious owl, that, too, is
Ahab, all are Ahab`` ,see Ioman 193: 254-255,.
Ahab`s name has Biblical echoes, denoting a Biblical
engeul king, but the character is also linked with culture
heroes or gods such as Perseus, Iercules, Prometheus, Anti-
Christ. Ie acts as a sorcerer and Satan, perorming a black
ritual o baptizing his harpoon. Ie is a worshipper o ire
seen as symbol o death ,i associated to the ire o lightning,
not to the lie-giing sun-ire,.
Primarily a symbol o nature, the whale has ambiguous
interpretations, synthesized by Chase ,198: 110-111,. Its
contradictoriness is speciic to nature: it is benign and
maleolent, nourishing and destructie . massie, brutal,
monolithic but at the same time protean, erotically beautiul
. ininitely ariable, . unpredictable and mindless,.


43

controlled by certain laws.` ,Chase 198: 110,. Its whiteness
is equally ambiguous: it suggests death and corruption .,
irginal purity, innocence and youth` ,Chase 198: 111,. It is
the colour containing all colour as it also signiies a tabva
ra.a which may be imaginatiely endowed with signiicance
according to the desire or obsession o him who beholds it.`
,Chase 198: 111,
Ioman analyses the Biblical myth o Jonah in
connection to Mob, Dic, stating that only Ishmael can
reenact the entire myth, or the others, to each is gien his
own portion o Jonah`s suering, wisdom and glory.`
,Ioman 193: 236,.
1he archetypal elements present in the book are either
characters ,the Outcast, represented by Ishmael, the Deil
ligure or the brute orce o nature - Moby Dick and the
Rebel - Ahab, or situations ,the quest, the journey,. 1he
language combines Shakespearean rhetoric, journalese,
\ankee rontier talk, Biblical solemnity and astonishing poetic
resonance. Occasional humour is combined with the sublime,
the tragic and the grotesque to create a great American
mythical masterpiece.

Irom Moby Dick (J8SJ)
Chapter Iorty-One, Moby Dick

One o the wild suggestings reerred to, as at last
coming to be linked with the \hite \hale in the minds o
the superstitiously inclined, was the unearthly conceit that
Moby Dick was ubiquitous, that he had actually been
encountered in opposite latitudes at one and the same instant

Cristina NICOLAL
44

o time.

Nor, credulous as such minds must hae been, was
this conceit altogether without some aint show o
superstitious probability. lor as the secrets o the currents in
the seas hae neer yet been diulged, een to the most
erudite research, so the hidden ways o the Sperm \hale
when beneath the surace remain, in great part,
unaccountable to his pursuers, and rom time to time hae
originated the most curious and contradictory speculations
regarding them, especially concerning the mystic modes
whereby, ater sounding to a great depth, transports himsel
with such ast switness to the most widely distant points.

It is a thing well known to both American and Lnglish
whaleships, and as well a thing placed upon authoritatie
record years ago by Scoresby, that some whales hae been
captured ar north in the Paciic, in whose bodies hae been
ound the barbs o harpoons darted in the Greenland seas.
Nor is it to be gainsaid, that in some o these instances it has
been declared that the interal o time between the two
assaults could not hae exceeded ery many days. Ience, by
inerence, it has been belieed by some whalemen, that the
Nor' \est Passage, so long a problem to man, was neer a
problem to the whale. So that here, in the real liing
experience o liing men, the prodigies related in old times o
the inland Strello mountain in Portugal ,near whose top there
was said to be a lake in which the wrecks o ships loated up
to the surace,, and that still more wonderul story o the
Arethusa ountain near Syracuse ,whose waters were belieed
to hae come rom the Ioly Land by an underground
passage,, these abulous narrations are almost ully equalled
by the realities o the whaleman.


45

lorced into amiliarity, then, with such prodigies as
these, and knowing that ater repeated, intrepid assaults, the
\hite \hale had escaped alie, it cannot be much matter o
surprise that some whalemen should go still urther in their
superstitions, declaring Moby Dick not only ubiquitous, but
immortal ,or immortality is but ubiquity in time,, that though
groes o spears should be planted in his lanks, he would still
swim away unharmed, or i indeed he should eer be made to
spout thick blood, such a sight would be but a ghastly
deception, or again in unensanguined billows hundreds o
leagues away, his unsullied jet would once more be seen.

But een stripped o these supernatural surmisings,
there was enough in the earthly make and incontestable
character o the monster to strike the imagination with
unwonted power. lor, it was not so much his uncommon
bulk that so much distinguished him rom other Sperm
\hales, but, as was elsewhere thrown out - a peculiar
snow-white wrinkled orehead and a high, pyramidical white
hump. 1hese were his prominent eatures, the tokens
whereby, een in the limitless, uncharted seas, be reealed his
identity, at a long distance, to those who knew him.

1he rest o his body was so streaked, and spotted,
and marbled with the same shrouded hue, that, in the end, he
had gained his distinctie appellation o the \hite \hale, a
name, indeed, literally justiied by his iid aspect, when seen
gliding at high noon through a dark blue sea, leaing a
milky-way wake o creamy oam, all spangled with golden
gleamings.

Nor was it his unwonted magnitude, nor his
remarkable hue, nor yet his deormed lower jaw, that so
much inested the whale with natural terror, as that

Cristina NICOLAL
46

unexampled, intelligent malignity which, according to speciic
accounts, he had oer and oer again einced in his assaults.
More than all, his treacherous retreats struck more o dismay
than perhaps aught else. lor, when swimming beore his
exulting pursuers, with eery apparent symptom o alarm, he
had seeral times been known to turn round suddenly, and,
bearing down upon them, either stae their boats to splinters,
or drie them back in consternation to their ship.

Already seeral atalities had attended his chase. But
though similar disasters, howeer little bruited ashore, were
by no means unusual in the ishery, yet, in most instances,
such seemed the \hite \hale's inernal aorethought o
erocity, that eery dismembering or death that he caused,
was not wholly regarded as haing been inlicted by an
unintelligent agent.

Judge, then, to what pitches o inlamed, distracted
ury the minds o his more desperate hunters were impelled,
when amid the chips o chewed beats, and the sinking limbs
o torn comrades, they swam out o the white curds o the
whale's direul wrath into the serene, exasperating sunlight,
that smiled on, as i at a birth or a bridal.

Iis three boats stoe around him, and oars and men
both whirling in the eddies, one captain, seizing the line-knie
rom his broken prow, had dashed at the whale, as an
Arkansas duellist at his oe, blindly seeking with a six inch
blade to reach the athom-deep lie o the whale. 1hat captain
was Ahab. And then it was, that suddenly sweeping his
sickle-shaped lower jaw beneath him, Moby Dick had reaped
away Ahab's leg, as mower a blade o grass in the ield. No
turbaned 1urk, no hired Venetian or Malay, could hae smote
him with more seeming malice. Small reason was there to


47

doubt, then, that eer since that almost atal encounter, Ahab
had cherished a wild indictieness against the whale, all the
more ell or that in his rantic morbidness he at last came to
identiy with him, not only all his bodily woes, but all his
intellectual and spiritual exasperations. 1he \hite \hale
swam beore him as the monomaniac incarnation o all those
malicious agencies which some deep men eel eating in them,
ill they are let liing on with hal a heart and hal a lung.
1hat intangible malignity which has been rom the beginning,
to whose dominion een the modern Christians ascribe
one-hal o the worlds, which the ancient Ophites o the east
reerenced in their statue deil, Ahab did not all down and
worship it like them, but deliriously transerring its idea to the
abhorred \hite \hale, pitted himsel, all mutilated, against it.
All that most maddens and torments, all that stirs up the lees
o things, all truth with malice in it, all that cracks the sinews
and cakes the brain, the subtle demonisms o lie and
thought, all eil, to crazy Ahab, were isibly personiied, and
made practically assailable in Moby Dick. Ie piled upon the
whale's white hump the sum o all the general rage and hate
elt by his whole race rom Adam down, and then, as i his
chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart's shell upon it.
|.[
But be all this as it may, certain it is, that with the mad
secret o his unabated rage bolted up and keyed in him,
Ahab had purposely sailed upon the present oyage with the
one only and all-engrossing object o hunting the \hite
\hale. Iad any one o his old acquaintances on shore but
hal dreamed o what was lurking in him then, how soon
would their aghast and righteous souls hae wrenched the
ship rom such a iendish man! 1hey were bent on

Cristina NICOLAL
48

proitable cruises, the proit to be counted down in dollars
rom the mint. Ie was intent on an, audacious, immitigable,
and supernatural reenge.
Iere, then, was this grey-headed, ungodly old man,
chasing with curses a Job's whale round the world, at the
head o a crew, too, chiely made no o mongrel renegades,
and castaways, and cannibals-morally eneebled also, by the
incompetence o mere unaided irtue or right-mindedness
in Starbuck, the inulnerable jollity o indierence and
recklessness in Stubb, and the perading mediocrity in llask.
Such a crew, so oicered, seemed specially picked and
packed by some inernal atality to help him to his
monomaniac reenge. Iow it was that they so aboundingly
responded to the old man's ire -by what eil magic their
souls were possessed, that at times his hate seemed almost
theirs, the \hite \hale as much their insuerable oe as
his, bow all this came to be - what the \hite \hale was to
them, or how to their unconscious understandings, also, in
some dim, unsuspected way, he might hae seemed the
gliding great demon o the seas o lie, - all this to explain,
would be to die deeper than Ishmael can go. 1he
subterranean miner that works in us all, how can one tell
whither leads his shat by the eer shiting, muled sound
o his pick \ho does not eel the irresistible arm drag
\hat ski in tow o a seenty-our can stand still lor one,
I gae mysel up to the abandonment o the time and the
place, but while yet all a-rush to encounter the whale, could
see naught in that brute but the deadliest ill.


49

LDGAR ALLAN POL
,1809-1849,

Ldgar Allan Poe was born in Boston in 1809. Ie was
the son o two itinerant actors. Ie was deserted by his ather
soon ater his birth, and his mother died. So he was adopted
by the Allan amily and went abroad with them, to Lngland
and Scotland. Iis adoptie mother elt a sick loe or him
this causing repeated arguments with his adoptie ather. Ie
broke rom his amily and moed to Baltimore, marrying
Virginia Clemm, his cousin. Iaing a period o deep poerty,
he started to publish short stories and lie on writing. 1hen,
in Philadelphia, he lied the period o his greatest
accomplishments, where he was the editor o, or associated
with, vrtov`. Cevtevav`. Magaive, Crabav`. Magaive, 1be
atvraa, Mv.evv. Ie became well-known in literary circles as
a result o the itality o his critical articles, the publication o
poems and short stories. In 1844 Poe moed to New \ork
and his constant apprehension about Virginia`s ineitable
premature death increased his eccentricities: he had
occasional escapes by alcohol, his critical articles increased
the number o his enemies, he had some indiscreet ,though
innocent, relations with some literary ladies. All these made
Poe`s reputation suer a lot. 1hen, in 184, Virginia died, and
ater two years, Ldgar was ound unconscious on the streets
o Baltimore and died in delirium ater our days.
Iis literary debut was marked in 182 by 1averave
ava Otber Poev. or poetry and in 1832 by ie short stories

Cristina NICOLAL
50

published in atvraa, Covrier or prose. Iis tales deal with
pseudoscience, terror, and antastic elements and are grouped
partially in 1ae. of tbe Crote.qve ava .rabe.qve ,1840,. Among
the most amous are 1be Coa vg, 1be a of tbe ov.e of
|.ber, and 1be 1e1ae eart. A striking characteristic o his
poems is their melodicity which is the result o many
rewritings and o great eorts in making the choice o the
right word. Poe is amous all oer the world or the poem 1be
Rarev, but some other poems are also representatie or his
work: .vvabe ee, evore, .rafe, aoraao, to eev.
Not only did Poe excel in prose and poetry but he also
ormulated his poetic creed in accurate critical articles, such
as 1be Pbio.opb, of Covpo.itiov. Poe inluenced the course o
creatie writing and criticism by emphasizing the art that
appeals simultaneously to reason and to emotion and by
insisiting that the work o art is not a ragment o the author`s
lie, nor an adjunct to some didactic purpose, but an object
created or the cause o beauty. 1his creatie act, according to
Poe, inoles the utmost concentration and unity, together
with the most scrupulous use o words.
In the article 1be Pbio.opb, of Covpo.itiov he states that
beauty, not truth, is the end o art admitting that his poetic
principle is aspiration or supernal beauty. Ie also gies a
kind o recipe or creating a poem: a poem should be a
short, rhythmical creation o beauty`, it should not be
didactic, it should make the ideal beautiul and eleate the
soul, it should be melancholic in its beauty and should hae a
beautiul woman as its best object. All the requirements
concerning the nature o poetry ocused on the eects
created by the indiidual poem: its totality o impression.`
As or prose, the key-words in writing tales are unity o


51

eect`, this meaning that eery element in a tale ,nature,
elements o the interior, space and time, characters, elements
o style, conerges to the gradual creation o the same eect
which is to be elt by the reader at the climactic point o the
tale ,see Perez 1981:356-35,.
Poe`s iews on literary theory had a strong impact on
many writers to come. Iis emphasis on unity, breity and
emotional response becomes one o the critical oundations
or the modern concern or the short lyric poem, modern
poetic theory ,Gautier, Pound, Lliot, proides a single
resonance to his principle. 1he idea that the poem is
suicient in itsel lies at the root o the art or art`s sake`
moement, late 19
th
century in lrance, where it inluenced
the Parnassians as well as in Lngland. In the 20
th
century, it
was taken oer by American writers under the name o
autotelic art ,see Perez 1981:35,.
Poe`s poetry is not large in amount or wide in range
but excellent in quality` ,Perez 1981:358,. Ie was both skilul
in point o metrics and careul in reising his poems. Lach
poem was conceied and phrased so as to produce a single
impression. In his poems, the usual element is sadness allied
to beauty. 1he strong emotion is induced in a number o
poems by the death o a beloed woman, sweetheart or wie.
Actually, Poe considered this as the most appropriate theme
or a poem thus giing a poem beauty in theme. 1o the
beauty in theme he added beauty in expression by three
deices: using a peculiar poetic ocabulary, making the sound
answer to the sense, employing repeated words, phrases,
sounds until the recurrence became a marked characteristic o
all his metrical compositions. 1he beautiul names o his
woman characters ,Lenore, Annabel Lee, add to the

Cristina NICOLAL
52

singleness o sensory eects that he sought. Poe stands out as
a creator o moods by the use o internal and external rhyme,
regular rhythm, careully chosen sounds, onomatopoeia,
suggestiely ague descriptions ,see Perez 1981:358,. Iis
poems combine classical, Romantic, Gothic and Symbolist
elements.

2. Poetr,
2.1. 1be Rarev
1be Rarev is Poe`s most amous poem. It reiterates
Poe`s aourite theme o grie occasioned by the death o a
beautiul woman, here by the name o Lenore. It also
presents the distinctie theme o despair at the denial o
personal immortality. 1he choice o the raen is thought to
hae been inspired by the raen Grip in arvab, Rvage by
Charles Dickens. Dickens's bird has many words and comic
turns, including the popping o a champagne cork, but Poe
elt that Dickens did not make enough o the bird's dramatic
qualities. Some eects were also borrowed rom Mrs.
Browning`s aa, Ceraaive`. Covrt.bip.
1he technique in building this poem is described by
the poet himsel in 1be Pbio.opb, of Covpo.itiov. 1he amiliar
theme o mourning or the death o a loer is skilully applied.
Poe looks or a peculiar eect and each element is meant to
conerge towards achieing it. 1he choice o the raen was
motiated by the need or a non-reasoning creature, capable
o speech`. 1he raen becomes a symbol o the character`s
dark doubts and rustrated longing. 1he choice o a rerain
that should seem natural ,Neermore`, is explained through
sound symbolism: the association o the two sounds o and r
suggests sadness and melancholy. 1he obsessie repetition o


53

this word leads to the mounting torture o the loer, who
asks three dierent questions and is bluntly gien the same
answer each time. Iis irst question is i he shall ind peace in
orgetulness, the second, i there`s peace in uture and the
last one, which is the most painul, i he will ind Lenore in
Ieaen. 1he man knows the answer beorehand, yet he
cannot keep rom asking the question. 1his is one o the
most proound impulses o human nature which proes the
pererse nature o man.
Poe claimed he irst wrote the stanza containing the
inal appeal to the raen, ramed as the climax o the poem,
because all the other stanzas had to be eebler in intensity o
emotion. Ioweer, the inal two stanzas are as eectie as
this one. Moreoer, it is in the inal stanza that the raen is
established as emblem o Mournul and Neerending
Remembrance`.
1he seenteenth stanza is no longer an appeal, but a
deiance, so it can be considered as a climax o action: Get
thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! ,
Leae no black plume as a token o that lie thy soul hath
spoken! , Leae my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust aboe
my door! , 1ake thy beak rom out my heart, and take thy
orm rom o my door!`. 1he last stanza lits the poem into
a climax o eeling.
Although the bird seems a hallucination, it is in act
real ,this is not to say that the narrator does not hallucinate at
all, though,, with real black eathers and a real croaking o the
single word, Neermore.` Raens can be taught to speak
and its use o language, alliteration, internal rhymes, and
archaic ocabulary, enhances the Gothic tenor o the piece.
1he basic meter o the poem is trochaic octameter`, that is,

Cristina NICOLAL
54

lines o 8 trochees ,pairs o syllables, the irst with strong
stress, the second with weak,. All 18 erses hae the same
orm, as the narrator's night terrors increase.

. Pro.e
1he best o Poe`s creatie work demands to be taken
symbolically. Its roots are in his desire to aoid the mundane,
to break through the conention o rontiers, o
consciousness, into the eleating excitement o the Soul`.
1he poetry and the prose are linked not only by recurrent
images and themes but also by the stages o consciousness
when the real world slipped away and the mind ound itsel
acing the horror o its own loneliness and loss.
In his reiew o Iawthorne`s 1rice1oa 1ae., Poe
presents his theoretical ideas about the tale. As a work o art,
the tale represents a stimulus which sets up a response to the
reader so that the reader might react in certain ways in
sympathy with a character in the story. 1hus a chain is
created: the incidents presented in the narratie cause the
character to hae certain emotions and the reader experiences
similar emotions. \hen the character`s reaction changes, so
does the reaction o the reader.
On the other hand, Poe insists on the unity o eect
which should be achieed in any tale: the writer should hae
in mind a single eect o the tale and all the incidents,
characters, settings should be subordinated to reaching this
eect. Like the poem, a successul tale should be short, that is
it should be read at one sitting without interruption o the
narratie thread, so that the reader may grasp the single eect
o the tale in its totality. Poe`s brie tale |.[ lies upon the
tension o the conlict, the complexity o interrelationships


55

and the rapid eolution towards the climactic end that must
carry a great weight o meaning` ,Perez 1981: 340,. In point
o language, Poe suggests that a tale-maker should necessarily
make use o an intensely iguratie language based on
metaphor, allegory and symbolism, on igures that imply a
transer o meaning asnd insure great suggestie power`
,Perez 1981: 340,.
Poe`s stories mostly pertain to the realm o
romanticism as they inestigate such problems as the
relations o the soul to the body, the dierence between
trance and death, the eelings o the ater lie, hypnotism,
insanity, crime, remorse` ,Perez 1981:341,. 1he tales he
published in the two-olume edition o 1ae. of tbe Crote.qve
ava .rabe.qve can be diided into: tales o terror, tales o
beauty in colour and rhythm and tales o ratiocination. 1he
tales o horror were written under the inluence o Gothicism
and the single eect they intended was a powerul eeling o
terror and horror. \e can include into this category 1be a
of tbe ov.e of |.ber, . De.cevt ivto tbe Mae.trv ,describing the
adentures o a isherman who escapes the whirpool,, igeia
,the tale about a beautiul woman who dies, but inally
manages to return back rom the grae,, 1be ac Cat and
1be Ca. of .vovtiaao ,both tales treating the theme o
reenge,. 1he tales o beauty in colour and rhythm include
baaor, eovora, 1be Ma.qve of tbe Rea Deatb while the tales o
ratiocination ,i.e. reasoning, exact thinking,, which are
centered on soling a mystery with the help o sheer logical
deduction, include 1be Coa vg ,a story about a buried
treasure whose discoery depends on a cipher, and 1be
M,.ter, of Marie Rogt.
All o Poe`s most memorable characters withdraw

Cristina NICOLAL
56

rom lie in its conentional aspects into heaily draped
rooms with artiicial lighting, as in his own description o the
ideal room in the short story 1be Pbio.opb, of vrvitvre. 1here
they cultiate a lie o their own, so distinct and cut apart
rom the world that they lose all touch with reality. In this
condition they can deelop an acuteness o sense and also an
almost mystical perception o the world. Unlike Iawthorne`s
characters, Poe`s outsiders lose their sanity and oten their
lies as a result o expanded consciousness ,see Brooks
193:160,.
Many o Poe`s characters are obsessed with a ear o
death. Some o them strie to come back rom the tomb,
others are terriied o being buried alie or in act are buried
alie like Berenice, or like Madeline in 1be a of tbe ov.e of
|.ber. 1he two obsessions are actually the same: the horror o
retaining consciousness in a world that is dead, the ear o
liing on in thought while still tied to one`s own rotting
body` ,Brooks 193:359-360,. Some critics ,such as Allen
1ate in his essay Ovr Cov.iv, Mr. Poe, speak o dehumanized
characters when reerring to Poe, because or his characters
the body is a mere machine: it is eectiely cut o rom the
consciousness which lies within, but aspires to lie beyond
the body. 1he sensibility tries to cut itsel loose rom the
lesh: it reuses to be reconciled to the lesh and its mortal
ate` As a consequence, they insist on liing with an intensity
that has no relation to the limitations imposed by the
biological and physical laws ,Brooks 193:360,.
Poe`s typical heroines are usually alicted with
mysterious diseases. 1hey isibly waste away beore their
loers` eyes. |.[ 1hey are not dying o spiritual anemia but
rather o an intensity that drains the body o its energy`


57

,Brooks 193:360,. Both the heroines` loers or husbands
and the heroines themseles are aware that they are wasting
away, but the process cannot be halted. 1he heroines are not
content to die, een though the loe they shared with their
partners seemed to be pure contemplation o each other.
Ater death they turn into ampires who return rom the
tomb, like lady Madeline, Ligeia, or Morella ,see Brooks
193:360,.

.1. 1be a of tbe ov.e of |.ber
Perhaps the best artistic application o Poe`s theory o
the tale can be ound in 1be a of tbe ov.e of |.ber. 1his
story is built on two narratie threads: one o them deals with
the emotions o the aected` character ,the character with
whom the reader is supposed to sympathize, - that is the
narrator o the story - while the other thread lists the
incidents which produce the eect. At the beginning o the
tale, the narrator, the I` o the story, is disturbed by a sense
o insuerable gloom`, yet he has the strength to stand aside
with detachment and attempt to discoer the cause o his
eelings. As the story unolds, his uneasiness turns into ear
and this ear grows while his detachment decreases. In the
end o the story, when the walls o the house all down, he
lees aghast` and his brain reels`. 1he incidents o the story
are likely to stimulate a eeling o mounting terror: the strange
appearance o the house and o the nature surrounding it, the
appearance and actions o the mad inhabitant o the house,
Roderick Usher, the strange burial o his sister Madeline and
her return to lie and inally the dissolution o the house.
1hese two narratie threads are also supported by the weird
identiications which appear all along the story: the

Cristina NICOLAL
58

identiication between the house and its inmates, between
Roderick and Madeline ,they can een be regarded as the two
acets o one single person,, between works o art and actual
happenings ,the story o Lthelred read towards the end o the
tale, and een the madness o Usher and the momentary
madness o the narrator ,see Perez 1981:343-344,.
1he description o the house as well as o its inmates
suggests uniersal decay and imminent collapse. 1he house,
both a physical structure and a symbol o the Usher amily, is
set in a wasteland o gray sedges` and decayed trees` and
wrapped in a strange apor, with ungi coering the walls and
a barely perceptible issure . extending rom the roo . in
ront` and making its way down the wall in a zig-zag
direction`. Roderick and Madeline are the ictims o some
strange diseases and both seem to approach dissolution. 1he
climax o the story, seen as a catastrophe, comprises the
return o the prematurely entombed sister in order to
conront her brother as well as the collpase o the house itsel,
alling oer the dead bodies o its inhabitants. 1he symbolism
in 1be a of tbe ov.e of |.ber is almost perect, with the
analogies which are woen upon a series o causes and eects
,see Buranelli 1966: 105,.
1he central character in 1be a of tbe ov.e of |.ber,
Roderick Usher, has approached that accute sensitiity in
which Beauty can be perceied in its ideal orms. But at the
same time with his mystical transcendence deelops his
madness and his inability to bear the conentional ingredients
o reality. Usher`s malady is described as a amily eil` and
because the Usher line is without collateral issue, his
deterioration is the deterioration o a amily, o a house, and
perhaps o a culture as well. \hether Usher`s accute


59

sensitiity is a product o madness or madness the result o
extreme cultiation o the senses matters less than the
realization that the two states merge in Poe into a single
image o terror. Usher`s crisis is two-old. 1here is a split in
his own personality and there is also a total disruption o his
relationship with the world outside himsel. 1he result
resembles the conclusion drawn by Kirkegaard when deining
the concept o dread: dread is an alien power which lays hold
o an indiidual and yet one can not tear onesel away nor has
a will to do so because one ears but what one ears one
desires.
Ldgar Allan Poe seems to be the most widely read o
all nineteenth-century American authors, but his popularity is
not due to his being considered a landmark in literary history.
Ie is read because neer beore and rarely since had any
author, Luropean or American, so wholly and impressiely
captured the horror that is o the soul and the hideous depths
that lie beneath the quotidian existence and consciousness o
man` ,vtroavctiov to Poe 1953:xi,.

Irom 1he Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and
weary,
Oer many a quaint and curious olume o orgotten lore,
\hile I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a
tapping,
As o some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
'1is some isitor,` I muttered, tapping at my chamber

Cristina NICOLAL
60

door-
Only this, and nothing more.`

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the
loor.
Lagerly I wished the morrow,- ainly I had sought to borrow
lrom my books surcease o sorrow - sorrow or the lost
Lenore-
lor the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name
Lenore-
Nameless here or eermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling o each purple curtain
1hrilled me - illed me with antastic terrors neer elt
beore,
So that now, to still the beating o my heart, I stood repeating,
'1is some isitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late isitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,-
1his it is, and nothing more.

Presently my soul grew stronger, hesitating then no longer,
Sir,` said I, or Madam, truly your orgieness I implore,
But the act is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so aintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber
door,
1hat I scarce was sure I heard you`- here I opened wide the
door,
Darkness there, and nothing more.


61

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there
wondering, earing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals eer dared to dream
beore,
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gae no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Lenore!`
1his I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
Lenore!
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than beore.
Surely,` said I, surely that is something at my window
lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore,-
'1is the wind and nothing more.`

Open here I lung the shutter, when, with many a lirt and
lutter,
In there stepped a stately raen o the saintly days o yore,
Not the least obeisance made he, not a minute stopped or
stayed he,
But, with mien o lord or lady, perched aboe my chamber
door-
Perched upon a bust o Pallas just aboe my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Cristina NICOLAL
62

from1he Iall of the House of Usher
ov covr e.t vv vtb .v.pevav ;
itot qvov e tovcbe i re.ovve.. ,de Branger,

During the whole o a dull, dark, and soundless day in
the autumn o the year, when the clouds hung oppressiely
low in the heaens, I had been passing alone, on horseback,
through a singularly dreary tract o country, and at length
ound mysel, as the shades o the eening drew on, within
iew o the melancholy Iouse o Usher. I know not how it
was - but, with the irst glimpse o the building, a sense o
insuerable gloom peraded my spirit. I say insuerable, or
the eeling was unrelieed by any o that hal-pleasurable,
because poetic, sentiment, with which the mind usually
receies een the sternest natural images o the desolate or
terrible. I looked upon the scene beore me - upon the mere
house, and the simple landscape eatures o the domain -
upon the bleak walls - upon the acant eye-like windows -
upon a ew rank sedges - and upon a ew white trunks o
decayed trees - with an utter depression o soul which I can
compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the
ater-dream o the reeller upon opium - the bitter lapse into
eeryday lie - the hideous dropping o o the eil. 1here
was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening o the heart - an
unredeemed dreariness o thought which no goading o the
imagination could torture into aught o the sublime. \hat
was it - I paused to think - what was it that so unnered me
in the contemplation o the Iouse o Usher It was a mystery
all insoluble, nor could I grapple with the shadowy ancies
that crowded upon me as I pondered. I was orced to all
back upon the unsatisactory conclusion, that while, beyond


63

doubt, there are combinations o ery simple natural objects
which hae the power o thus aecting us, still the analysis o
this power lies among considerations beyond our depth. It
was possible, I relected, that a mere dierent arrangement o
the particulars o the scene, o the details o the picture,
would be suicient to modiy, or perhaps to annihilate its
capacity or sorrowul impression, and, acting upon this idea,
I reined my horse to the precipitous brink o a black and lurid
tarn that lay in unruled lustre by the dwelling, and gazed
down - but with a shudder een more thrilling than beore -
upon the remodelled and inerted images o the gray sedge,
and the ghastly tree-stems, and the acant and eye-like
windows.
Neertheless, in this mansion o gloom I now
proposed to mysel a sojourn o some weeks. Its proprietor,
Roderick Usher, had been one o my boon companions in
boyhood, but many years had elapsed since our last meeting.
A letter, howeer, had lately reached me in a distant part o
the country - a letter rom him - which, in its wildly
importunate nature, had admitted o no other than a personal
reply. 1he ms. gae eidence o nerous agitation. 1he writer
spoke o acute bodily illness - o a mental disorder which
oppressed him - and o an earnest desire to see me, as his
best, and indeed his only personal riend, with a iew o
attempting, by the cheerulness o my society, some
alleiation o his malady. It was the manner in which all this,
and much more, was said - it was the apparent heart that
went with his request - which allowed me no room or
hesitation, and I accordingly obeyed orthwith what I still
considered a ery singular summons.
Although, as boys, we had been een intimate

Cristina NICOLAL
64

associates, yet I really knew little o my riend. Iis resere
had been always excessie and habitual. I was aware, howeer,
that his ery ancient amily had been noted, time out o mind,
or a peculiar sensibility o temperament, displaying itsel,
through long ages, in many works o exalted art, and
maniested, o late, in repeated deeds o muniicent yet
unobtrusie charity, as well as in a passionate deotion to the
intricacies, perhaps een more than to the orthodox and
easily recognisable beauties, o musical science. I had learned,
too, the ery remarkable act, that the stem o the Usher race,
all time-honored as it was, had put orth, at no period, any
enduring branch, in other words, that the entire amily lay in
the direct line o descent, and had always, with ery triling
and ery temporary ariation, so lain. It was this deiciency, I
considered, while running oer in thought the perect keeping
o the character o the premises with the accredited character
o the people, and while speculating upon the possible
inluence which the one, in the long lapse o centuries, might
hae exercised upon the other - it was this deiciency,
perhaps, o collateral issue, and the consequent undeiating
transmission, rom sire to son, o the patrimony with the
name, which had, at length, so identiied the two as to merge
the original title o the estate in the quaint and equiocal
appellation o the Iouse o Usher` - an appellation which
seemed to include, in the minds o the peasantry who used it,
both the amily and the amily mansion.
I hae said that the sole eect o my somewhat
childish experiment - that o looking down within the tarn -
had been to deepen the irst singular impression. 1here can
be no doubt that the consciousness o the rapid increase o
my superstition - or why should I not so term it - sered


65

mainly to accelerate the increase itsel. Such, I hae long
known, is the paradoxical law o all sentiments haing terror
as a basis. And it might hae been or this reason only, that,
when I again uplited my eyes to the house itsel, rom its
image in the pool, there grew in my mind a strange ancy - a
ancy so ridiculous, indeed, that I but mention it to show the
iid orce o the sensations which oppressed me. I had so
worked upon my imagination as really to beliee that about
the whole mansion and domain there hung an atmosphere
peculiar to themseles and their immediate icinity - an
atmosphere which had no ainity with the air o heaen, but
which had reeked up rom the decayed trees, and the gray
wall, and the silent tarn - a pestilent and mystic apor, dull,
sluggish, aintly discernible, and leaden-hued.

Cristina NICOLAL
66

WAL1 WHI1MAN
,1819 - 1892,

\alt \hitman was born in Long Island in a Quaker
amily. As a young man, \alter \hitman decided to earn his
liing by being a printer. Ie was the editor o arious
newspapers in Brooklyn and New \ork. During these years
he noticed lie around him and deeloped his own
philosophy. Ie greatly enjoyed the big city o New \ork,
with its crowded streets and masses o people. As he wrote
later, the tides o humanity were streams o neer ailing,
liing poems.`
Late in the 1840`s and in the early 1850`s, he
experienced a kind o mystical reelation which released his
ull creatie powers. 1his experience changed his way o
thinking, eeling and writing, this change being obious in his
book, eare. of Cra.. ,1855, irst edition,. 1here was a silence
in writing between 1858 and 1859 which was attributed by
some o his biographers to a homosexual loe aair that
brought him a eeling o guilt and despair.
\hitman was deeply aected by the American Ciil
\ar ,1861-1865, and, starting with 1862 he sered in arious
hospitals and army camps as a male nurse. 1he poems o this
period are gathered in a olume called Drvv 1ap. ,1865,.
In his last years another change took place in
\hitman. Ie deeloped new themes in his poetry: idealism,
nationalism, internationalism and the theme o death and
immortality. Iis writing became more thoughtul and serene.


67

1he interdependence o men illed his thinking and is
especially relected in the poem Pa..age to vaia. Death is seen
here as a total plan o lie. 1his poem presents hope or the
renewing o the human race by uniting the spiritual wisdom
o the east with the materialism o the west. It is a call or the
physical, intellectual and spiritual unity o all nations o the
world.
1he poems collected in eare. of Cra.. are ery
dierent rom \hitman`s earlier poems. Rhyme has
disappeared and the rhythm is not in the old tradition. 1he
poet talks about lie as he knew it using the simple idiomatic
language o the people. \hen the book was irst published,
literary critics did not like it at all and many people laughed at
the queer type o poetry. 1oday readers see that it
demonstrates the birth o \hitman`s poetic powers and a
new way o writing poetry. eare. of Cra.. traces the lie o a
man, the maturing o a young nation, the passing o a man
rom youth to old age. Seeral inluences were at work to
produce this new \hitman. Ie himsel belieed that he had
matured and that his poetry relected the experiences o his
36 years.
In addition, his wide reading in the Bible and
Shakespeare aected the organization and rhythm o his
poetry. lrom the American writers 1horeau and Lmerson, he
adopted the ree erse. lrom Lmerson he adopted the ideas
o the need or the Americans to be independent and sel-
suicient, to do their own thinking and to be democratic.
1wo amous poems by \hitman can be ound in the
olume Drvv 1ap., both o them haing as central igure
president Abraham Lincoln: Captaiv, M, Captaiv and !bev
iac. a.t iv tbe Door,ara oovà. 1hey both speak about the

Cristina NICOLAL
68

death o the president whom \hitman admired ery much.
1he memory o lilacs in bloom at the time o the president`s
death went into \hitman`s elegy to Lincoln. 1he latter poem
is considered to be one o the greatest poems about Lincoln
in the American literature.

2. ovg of M,.ef
ovg of M,.ef is a long poem diided into 52 sections
whose title reminds one o Lmerson`s indiidualism and
personalism. It is an autobiographical piece o poetry in
which \hitman tells how he, as an indiidual man, became a
poet, and a poet who, as in Lmerson`s deinition, eentually
takes to himsel the attributes and unctions o the old
outmoded diinities` ,Brooks 193: 935,. In orm, it is said to
be the modern and Romantic ersion o the epic mode.
1his poem is oten considered the most thoroughly
democratic poem eer written. In it, \hitman proclaims
without reseration the alue o eery indiidual and
identiies himsel with eery and each possible human
creature. Ie also asserts the equality o all human creatures
by bringing together within the same poetic breath a
prostitute and a president, a peddler and the crew o a ishing
boat. ovg of M,.ef gies the impression o relecting the
personal loe and concern o the poet or all mankind. It
moes rom interest in the present to the more ultimate
matters o lie, death, eternity and god. \hitman imagines
himsel speaking through the poem or all Americans, as he
says:
I celebrate mysel and sing mysel
And what I shall assume you shall assume


69

lor eery atom belonging to me as good belongs to
you.`
ovg of M,.ef intends to be an act o liberation, a
poem which so works upon its readers as to emancipate
them` rom prejudices, inherited attitudes and drowsiness o
spirit. 1he liberating purpose is also relected in the technical
reedom: reedom o rhyme and rhythm, lexibility o line
length and structure o stanzas ,see Brooks 193:936,.
1he democratic moti o raternity appears or
\hitman under the orm o an all-embracing compassion -
the lie without sympathy is a death-in-lie. Ie is the one with
the wounded slae, with the thiees and dwars, with the
wretched o the earth: I am a man, I suer`d, I was there.`,
because according to \hitman, the binding orce o the
creation is loe. All his poetry, when it engages suering and
grie, always moes towards healing, towards usion o the
opposites, all these being achieed both by sentiment and by
technique.
1he great poet is, or \alt \hitman, a great democrat
because he has a special kind o perception, o looking at
things in a unique way. Ie is a seer,` \hitman says in the
Preface to eare. of Cra.., or the world`s eye`, as Lmerson
said in âtvre. 1o act as the eyesight o mankind means to
exercise the aculty o miraculous perception, o seeing the
extraordinary in the here-and-now.
Another aspect o \hitman`s ision in ovg of M,.ef is
his igorous contempt or the sentimental piety o his days:
I think I could turn and lie with animals, they are so
placid and sel-contained,
I stand and look at them long and long.
1hey do not sweat and whine about their condition,

Cristina NICOLAL
70

1hey do not lie awake in the dark and weep or their
sins,
1hey do not make me sick discussing their duty to
God.`
Although ovg of M,.ef is a poem o lie and day,
there are also moments o death and darkness in it. 1he
emerging poet suers spasms o doubt and anxiety, een o
panic, until ,in section 38, he eels himsel stunned and then
cruciied` ,Brooks 193:938,.
1he poem can be diided in three parts. 1he irst part,
rom section 1 to section 1, describes the process by which a
particular man became a poet. In the second part appear the
human aspects o the poet ,section 18 to section 32, while
the third section represents the apotheosis o the poem, the
moment when the poet assumes his godlike quality. But the
poetic experience described in this poem can be interpreted
in archetypal terms as the mystical experience o a shaman`
o the Asian tribes. 1he poet in ovg of M,.ef, as well as a
shaman, is a healer, a director o souls, a mystic and a
isionary, he is also a specialist in ecstasy. Iis departure rom
his body and mystical journey through the cosmic regions is
recounted in detail in section 33. 1here are seen stages o
mysticism which are represented in ovg of M,.ef ,as
suggested by Lelyn Underhill in her study M,.tici.v, London:
Methuen & Co., Ltd. 1926.,: I. Sections 1-5 - Lntry into the
mystical state, II. Sections 6-16 - Awakening o the sel, III.
Sections 1-32 - Puriication o sel, IV. Sections 33-3 -
illumination and the dark night o the soul, V. Sections 38-43
- Union ,aith and loe,, VI. Sections 44-49 - Union
,perception,, VII. Sections 50-52 - Lmergence rom the
mystical state.


71

By his relationship to America and the Americans by
means o their language, by his liberating the language rom
the prosodic and syntactic strictures as well as his method o
accumulating details, alternating perspecties, \alt \hitman
became the most powerul poetic presence in his centuries.
Moreoer, he announced the twentieth century poetry with
his ree erse and open orms: the symbolists, and the
imagists, the experimentalists and the Beats ,see Perez
1981:388,.

Irom Song of Myself

1
I celebrate mysel, and sing mysel,
And what I assume you shall assume,
lor eery atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loae and inite my soul,
I lean and loae at my ease obsering a spear o summer grass.

My tongue, eery atom o my blood, orm'd rom this soil,
this air,
Born here o parents born here rom parents the same, and
their parents the same,
I, now thirty-seen years old in perect health begin,
Ioping to cease not till death.

Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while suiced at what they are, but neer

Cristina NICOLAL
72

orgotten,
I harbor or good or bad, I permit to speak at eery hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.

2
Iouses and rooms are ull or perumes, the sheles are
crowded with perumes,
I breathe the ragrance mysel and know it and like it,
1he distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.

1he atmosphere is not a perume, it has no taste o the
distillation, it is odorless,
It is or my mouth oreer, I am in loe with it,
I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised
and naked,
I am mad or it to be in contact with me.
1he smoke o my own breath,
Lchoes, ripples, buzze`d whispers, loe-root, silk-thread,
crotch and ine,
My respiration and inspiration, the beating o my heart, the
passing o blood and air through my lungs,
1he sni o green leaes and dry leaes, and o the shore and
dark-color'd sea-rocks, and o hay in the barn,
1he sound o the belch'd words' o my oice loos'd to the
eddies o the wind
A ew light kisses, a ew embraces, a reaching around o arms,
1he play o shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs
wag,
1he delight alone or in the rush o the streets, or along the
ields and hill-sides


73

1he eeling o health, the ull-noon trill, the song o me rising
rom bed and meeting the sun.

Iae you reckon'd a thousand acres much hae you
reckon'd the earth much
Iae you practis'd so long to learn to read
Iae you elt so proud to get at the meaning o poems

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the
origin o all poems,
\ou shall possess the good o the earth and sun, ,there are
millions o suns let,,
\ou shall on longer take things at second or third hand, nor
look through the eyes o the dead, nor eed on the specters in
books,
\ou shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things
rom me,
\ou shall listen to all sides and ilter them rom your sel.

32
I think I could turn and lie with animals, they are so placid
and sel-contain`d,
I stand and look at them long and long.

1hey do not sweat and whine about their condition,
1hey do not lie awake in the dark and weep or their sins,
1hey do not make me sick discussing their duty to God,
Not one is dissatisied, not one is demented with the mania
o owning things,
Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lied

Cristina NICOLAL
74

thousands o years ago,
Not one is respectable or unhappy oer the whole earth.

So they show their relations to me and I accept them,
1hey bring me tokens o mysel, they eince them plainly in
their possession.

I wonder where they get these tokens,
Did I pass that way huge times ago and negligently drop
them

Mysel moing orward then and now and oreer,
Gathering and showing more always and with elocity,
Ininite and omnigenous, and the like o these among them,
Not too exclusie toward the reachers o my remembrancers,
Picking out here one that I loe, and now go with him on
brotherly terms.

A gigantic beauty o a stallion, resh and responsie to my
caresses,
Iead high in the orehead, wide between the ears,
Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground,
Lyes ull o sparkling wickedness, cars inely cut, lexibly
moing.

Iis nostrils dilate as my heels embrace him,
Iis well-built limbs tremble with pleasure as we race around
and return.
I but use you a minute, then I resign you, stallion,
\hy do you need your paces when I mysel out-gallop them
Len as I sand or sit passing aster than you.


75

MARK 1WAIN
,1835 - 1910,

Mark 1wain, the pseudonym o Samuel Langhorne
Clemens, was born in a small rier town, llorida, in the state
o Missouri. Iis parents, who were proud o their Southern
origin, hoped to improe their liing conditions and moed
to another town, Iannibal, when Samuel was 4. 1his town
was a mixture o Southern traditional lie and rough rontier
lie. 1he ew black slaes that lied in it worked mostly as
household serants because the arms were too small to be
worked on by slaes. 1his mixed liestyle inluenced many o
1wain`s literary works.
As a child, Samuel Clemens was the typical bad boy
who hated school, started to smoke when he was 9 and
headed a band o pranksters. Actually, he sered as a source
o inspiration or his own hero, 1om Sawyer. Soon ater his
ather`s death, he let school or good at the age o 12. Ater
working in a printer`s shop and at avviba ]ovrva, he went
away wandering or some years between New \ork,
Philadelphia, \ashington and Iowa. Ie inally suceeded in
ulilling his boyhood dream o becoming a rier pilot, but
the beginning o the Ciil \ar ,1861-1865, preented him
rom going on practising this job. Ie enrolled as a
Conederate soldier but soon deserted the military orce and
led to Virginia where he became a reporter and a humorist.
It was in 1863 that he adopted the pseudonym Mark 1wain,
which was a term borrowed rom rier piloting and reerred

Cristina NICOLAL
76

to the sae naigating conditions.
Mark 1wain`s literary creation can be diided in two
periods ,see Perez 1981: 89-90,. 1he irst one started in 186
when he published 1be Ceebratea ]vvpivg rog ava Otber
etcbe. - a collection o sketches conceied in a journalistic
style and spiced with olk humour. Iis next work, published
in 1869 and entitled 1be vvocevt. .broaa, consisted o a series
o trael letters. Although poorly receied by the critics, it
sold well and he was asked by the same publishing company
to write another book. So he published Rovgbivg t in 182, a
documentation about the mining epoch that ollowed ater
the Gold Rush. 1his noel marks the end o 1wain`s irst
period o creation, a period characterized by optimistic ideas
mirrored in his tendency to lay stress on the superiority o the
American way o lie.
1he second literary creation bears the inluence o
post-Ciil \ar period. 1wain presents the corruption which
characterizes the new-born American republic thus proing
his disappointment with the ailure o democratic ideals. All
the noels written ater 182 belong to this period o creation.
1hus, in 183 he published 1be Ciaea .ge, a book written in
collaboration with Charles Dudley \arner. 1his book
realistically presented the early 19
th
century as an age o
corruption and exploitation with ery little concern or the
public welare.
1wain`s enduring popularity is mainly due to his three
masterpieces: the two noels o childhood 1be .arevtvre. of
1ov ar,er ,186, and 1be .arevtvre. of vceberr, ivv ,1885,
as well as 1be Privce ava tbe Pavper ,1882,. 1he noel 1be
.arevtvre. of 1ov ar,er ,186, presents the lie o the
American proince, with its Puritanic atmosphere, ull o


77

bigotry and conentionalism. 1he two protagonists o this
noel, 1om, an orphan brought up by his aunt, and Iuck, the
son o a drunkard, share the same instinct or reedom and
the same rich and bold imagination. 1he book has an
autobiographical nature which may account or its nostalgic
ision o the past. 1be Privce ava tbe Pavper belongs to the
category o historical noels, but satire and airy tale also
contribute in creating its atmosphere. 1he noel criticizes the
16
th
century Lnglish monarchy whose ulgar display o
wealth contrasts with the misery o ordinary people. On the
other hand, the author praises the intelligence and honour o
the simple man.
Another well-known historical noel written by Mark
1wain, published in 1889, is . Covvecticvt Yavee iv Kivg
.rtbvr`. Covrt. Iere he replaces the usual romantic attitude
which idealized the Middle Ages with a comical attitude. 1he
satire o this book has a double target: on the one hand, it
criticizes the mediaeal world, on the other hand, it aims at
reealing the laws o his contemporary Anglo-American
society.

2. 1be .arevtvre. of vceberr, ivv
2.1.Pot
1he book which ranks Mark 1wain among the top
representaties o world literature is undoubtedly 1be
.arevtvre. of vceberr, ivv. Conceied as a companion
olume to 1be .arevtvre. of 1ov ar,er, this book presents a
series o boyish adentures which take place in the adult
world. 1his second book about childhood breaks up with the
romantic approach o the irst. Moreoer, it tends to gie a
more true-to-lie picture o the American realities o the pre-

Cristina NICOLAL
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Ciil \ar period. 1he hero o the book, Iuckleberry linn,
ater all his adentures with 1om described in the irst book,
seems to hae come to terms with the respectul society o St.
Petersburg ,a ictitious town resembling Iannibal,. Liing at
\idow Douglas` place, he surprisingly appears to obey the
rigid rules o spelling, soap and prayers. Iis quiet lie changes
with the return o his drunken ather, Pap, who threatens his
lie. Ie takes reuge on Jackson`s Island where he meets Jim,
Miss \atson`s black slae, who ran away when inding out
his master intended to sell him.
Realizing the island was not sae against slae-catchers,
the two go by rat on the Mississippi rier heading towards
Cairo, Illinois, a state were slaery was abolished. But they
miss this town in the og and the rat is eentually sunk by a
steamboat. 1hey hae a narrow escape but are separated.
Iuck lies or a while at the Grangerords, then rejoins Jim
and, ater a dialogue` with his own conscience`, decides to
sae him at last. Going on the rier again, they pass through
another series o adentures which reeal the cruelty and
irrationality o society. linally, Jim is betrayed by two
agabonds, King and Duke, whom they hae beriended. Jim
is held captie at the Phelps amily, kin o 1om Sawyer. \ith
the help o 1om himsel, Iuck succeeds in saing Jim. In the
end, Jim inds out he was reed by Mrs \atson on her
deathbed and Iuck is taken by the Phelps to be ciilized, but
he is thinking o escape to the Indian country.

2.2 .va,.i.
Besides its ocus on the narratie itsel, the book also
has a psychological action` ,Brooks 193:125,. 1hus it
describes the changes that the heroes undergo under the


79

impact o eents. I at the beginning, Iuck looks down on
Jim and speaks disdainully to him, calling him Miss
\atson`s big nigger`, his attitude gradually changes. Ie
becomes more riendly and een oercomes his prejudices
and admits the black slae`s moral integrity and dignity. 1he
climax o Iuck`s moral change is presented in Chapter 31,
when Iuck`s conscience` dictates that he should write to
Miss \atson and turn Jim oer to her. Ater he has written
the letter, he eels cleansed, reormed`, saed rom the
danger o hell. But when seeing Jim on the rat as a real
human whose aection or him is total, his good` intentions
ail. In a moment o unconscious irony, he bursts out: All
right, I`ll go to hell` and tears up the letter. linally, Iuck
accepts Jim as a standard or his own way o thinking ,see
Brooks 193: 1281,.
1he moral eolution o Iuck is paralleled by his
growing up. A irst step towards his passage to adulthood
happens when he realizes that good and eil interere in
society and cannot be ound in isolated orms: society is a
mixture and so is the human being ,see Brooks 193: 1281,.
Another step in Iuck`s growing up is marked by his
realization that the problem o eil also lies within his own
soul and the eolution o his relation with Jim shows the way
in which he decides to sole the problem: by looking or
good and humanity beyond the conentions which he has
been taught to respect. lrom a more philosophical
perspectie, this gradual change undergone by Iuck
represents a rejection o the conentions ruling the existing
society in aour o a utopian social order.
Built on the moti o the journey, the book structurally
belongs to the picaresque kind o noel. 1hus it is made up

Cristina NICOLAL
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o some disjointed episodes united by the presence o the
main hero who moes rom one place to another. \et, 1wain
introduces some new elements in the traditional picaresque
narratie. On the one hand, his narratie presents an
exposition, a deelopment with a climax, and a denouement,
which impose a gradual increase o the reader`s expectation
and interest. On the other hand, 1wain modiies this
structure by placing another uniying hero in the book - the
rier Mississippi which acquires a orce o his own. As Lionel
1rilling suggests in his Introduction` to 1be .arevtvre. ,1948,,
the rier appears as the symbol o a great moral idea. It
represents reedom and honesty and is opposed to the shore
which signiies the bondage o society with its inherent
cruelty, anity, selishness and hypocrisy. So the rier
proides a structural as well as thematic continuity to the
noel. 1he episode with the rat being sunk by a steamboat
and with Iuck and Jim diing into the rier in order to
escape can be regarded as a baptism that rees them . into
the new lie` ,Brooks 193: 126,.
Besides its opposition to the land, the rier also
teaches Iuck a eeling o awe beore the unierse: It was
kind o solemn, driting down the big, still rier - looking up
at the stars, and we didn`t eer eel like talking loud, and it
warn`t oten we laughed.` Little by little, the Mississippi
becomes a rier-god, as Lionel 1rilling as well as 1. S. Lliot
argue, a god whom one is to obey and sere. Iuck seres this
god and turns to it wheneer he eels the need o recoering
his physical or moral powers. As a deity, the rier is beyond
any good or eil, but he disseminates good in those who
worship him and makes them ollow strict ethical norms. At
the same time, the rier is, just like any diinity, a boundless


81

power and a source o danger which maniests the real sense
and power o nature in contrast to ciilization and lie in
society.
In this noel, Iuck plays a double role: he is a man o
action and at the same time the narrator through whom the
noelist ilters most o his own thoughts. Gien the immature
age o the narrator ,about thirteen or ourteen,, with its
inherent naiety and innocence, 1wain has the opportunity to
express his own opinions under the orm o an adolescent`s
commentary. 1hus the author is partially absoled rom the
responsibility o his satirical-critical attitude. As a social
outsider, Iuck regards with resere the persons integrated in
society and their ways o liing. Presented as a nae and
extremely earnest character, Iuck totally lacks humour. \et,
1wain achiees some comic eects by presenting Iuck`s
simplicity and immobile ace when telling humorous things,
showing he is totally unaware o the eects o his words. 1his
is called deadpan` deice, a literary conention much used in
the Southwest traditional humour. An example appears in
Chapter 18 when Iuck goes back to church to etch the
songbook that Sophia Grangerord has orgotten there.
\hen he arries, he catches sight o some pigs lying down in
the church and draws an apparently innocent and serious
comparison: I you notice, most olks din`t go to church
only when theyè got to, but a hog is dierent.` According
to this humorous deice, the author as well as the reader
apparently see more than Iuck, the narrator. But in spite o
his diminished knowing power, Iuck coninces the reader by
his deep morality and his proound humanitarianism which
enable him to orgie een the eil-doers, King and Duke,
and to look on them with compassion ,see Perez 1981: 94-95,.

Cristina NICOLAL
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1he narratie technique o this noel distinguishes it
rom other noels o its time. \hen retelling his story in the
irst person, Iuck always addresses a listener who is
physically present. 1his presence is indicated by the
numerous you know` and you see` and is established rom
the ery beginning o the noel by its irst sentence: \ou
don`t know about me, without you hae read a book by the
name o 1be .arevtvre. of 1ov ar,er`. 1he narratie imitates
the oral-telling situation, another eature which is also
common to the Southwest traditional humour ,see Perez
1981: 96-9,.
1he language o this noel is made up o dierent
types o regional speech along the Mississippi: colloquial
language, slang, dialects. 1he language also seres to delineate
the characters. Iuck speaks ernacular` ,the language o the
ordinary people,, which, according to the Southwest
traditional humour, designates the respectie speaker`s social
opposition to the Northeast speaker. 1wain means to break
up with this tradition by presenting Iuck as an indiidual
who goes beyond these language conentions and gains his
own integrity no matter what social group he belongs to.
1hus, although belonging to the Southwest by his use o the
ernacular`, Iuck turns out to share Northeastern
abolitionist ideas. 1he noel hardly has any trace o literary
language, mostly relected in nature descriptions o particular
reshness, such as the description o dawn on the rier: Not
a sound anywhere - perectly still - just like the whole world
was asleep, only sometimes the bull-rogs a-cluttering, maybe.
1he irst thing to see, looking away oer the water, was a kind
o dull line - that was the woods on tòther side - you
couldn`t make nothing else out, then a pale place in the sky,


83

then more paleness, spreading around, then the rier sotened
up, away o, and warn`t black any more, but gray.`
,vceberr, ivv, ,see Brooks 193:12,.
1he noel 1be .arevtvre. of vceberr, ivv imposes a
new trend in American literature by the use o oral-telling
technique, nae narrator and deadpan humour. 1ogether
with 1be .arevtvre. of 1ov ar,er, it introduces a new type o
noels which relate childhood adentures and are deoted to
both children and adult readership.

Irom 1he Adventures of Huckleberry Iinn (J88S)
Chapter XXXI

Set her loose, Jim! we're all right now!`
But there warn't no answer, and nobody come out o
the wigwam. Jim was gone! I set up a shout - and then
another - and then another one, and run this way and that in
the woods, whooping and screeching, but it warn't no use -
old Jim was gone. 1hen I set down and cried, I couldn't help
it. But I couldn't set still long. Pretty soon I went out on the
road, trying to think what I better do, and I run across a boy
walking, and asked him i he'd seen a strange nigger dressed
so and so, and he says:
\es.`
\hereabouts` says I.
Down to Silas Phelps' place, two mile below here.
Ie's a runaway nigger, and they'e got him. \as you looking
or him`
\ou bet I ain't! I run across him in the woods about

Cristina NICOLAL
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an hour or two ago, and he said i I hollered he'd cut my
liers out -- and told me to lay down and stay where I was,
and I done it. Been there eer since, aeard to come out.`
\ell,` he says, you needn't be aeard no more,
becuz they'e got him. Ie run o 'm down South, som'ers.`
It's a good job they got him.`
\ell, I recov! 1here's two hunderd dollars reward on
him. It's like picking up money out'n the road.`
\es, it is -- and I could a had it i I'd been big
enough, I see him lIRS1. \ho nailed him`
It was an old ellow - a stranger - and he sold out his
chance in him or orty dollars, becuz he's got to go up the
rier and can't wait. 1hink o' that, now! \ou bet I'a wait, i it
was seen year.`
1hat's me, eery time,` says I. But maybe his chance
ain't worth no more than that, i he'll sell it so cheap. Maybe
there's something ain't straight about it.`
But it IS, though - straight as a string. I see the
handbill mysel. It tells all about him, to a dot - paints him
like a picture, and tells the plantation he's rum, below
Newreav.. No-sirree-bob, they ain't no trouble 'bout tbat
speculation, you bet you. Say, gimme a chaw tobacker, won't
ye`
I didn't hae none, so he let. I went to the rat, and
set down in the wigwam to think. But I couldn't come to
nothing. I thought till I wore my head sore, but I couldn't see
no way out o the trouble. Ater all this long journey, and
ater all we'd done or them scoundrels, here it was all come
to nothing, eerything all busted up and ruined, because they
could hae the heart to sere Jim such a trick as that, and


85

make him a slae again all his lie, and amongst strangers, too,
or orty dirty dollars.
Once I said to mysel it would be a thousand times
better or Jim to be a slae at home where his amily was, as
long as he'd got to be a slae, and so I'd better write a letter to
1om Sawyer and tell him to tell Miss \atson where he was.
But I soon gie up that notion or two things: she'd be mad
and disgusted at his rascality and ungrateulness or leaing
her, and so she'd sell him straight down the rier again, and i
she didn't, eerybody naturally despises an ungrateul nigger,
and they'd make Jim eel it all the time, and so he'd eel
ornery and disgraced. And then think o ve! It would get all
around that Iuck linn helped a nigger to get his reedom,
and i I was eer to see anybody rom that town again I'd be
ready to get down and lick his boots or shame. 1hat's just
the way: a person does a low-down thing, and then he don't
want to take no consequences o it. 1hinks as long as he can
hide, it ain't no disgrace. 1hat was my ix exactly. 1he more I
studied about this the more my conscience went to grinding
me, and the more wicked and low-down and ornery I got to
eeling. And at last, when it hit me all o a sudden that here
was the plain hand o Proidence slapping me in the ace and
letting me know my wickedness was being watched all the
time rom up there in heaen, whilst I was stealing a poor old
woman's nigger that hadn't eer done me no harm, and now
was showing me there's One that's always on the lookout,
and ain't a-going to allow no such miserable doings to go only
just so ur and no urther, I most dropped in my tracks I was
so scared. \ell, I tried the best I could to kinder soten it up
somehow or mysel by saying I was brung up wicked, and so
I warn't so much to blame, but something inside o me kept

Cristina NICOLAL
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saying, 1here was the Sunday-school, you could a gone to it,
and i you'd a done it they'd a learnt you there that people
that acts as I'd been acting about that nigger goes to
eerlasting ire.`
It made me shier. And I about made up my mind to
pray, and see i I couldn't try to quit being the kind o a boy I
was and be better. So I kneeled down. But the words
wouldn't come. \hy wouldn't they It warn't no use to try
and hide it rom Iim. Nor rom ve, neither. I knowed ery
well why they wouldn't come. It was because my heart warn't
right, it was because I warn't square, it was because I was
playing double. I was letting ov to gie up sin, but away inside
o me I was holding on to the biggest one o all. I was trying
to make my mouth .a, I would do the right thing and the
clean thing, and go and write to that nigger's owner and tell
where he was, but deep down in me I knowed it was a lie, and
Ie knowed it. \ou can't pray a lie -- I ound that out.
So I was ull o trouble, ull as I could be, and didn't
know what to do. At last I had an idea, and I says, I'll go and
write the letter -- and then see i I can pray. \hy, it was
astonishing, the way I elt as light as a eather right straight
o, and my troubles all gone. So I got a piece o paper and a
pencil, all glad and excited, and set down and wrote:
Mi.. !at.ov, ,ovr rvvara, vigger ]iv i. aorv bere tro vie
beor Pie.rie, ava Mr. Pbep. ba. got biv ava be ri gire
biv vp for tbe rerara if ,ov .eva. vc ivv.
I elt good and all washed clean o sin or the irst
time I had eer elt so in my lie, and I knowed I could pray
now. But I didn't do it straight o, but laid the paper down
and set there thinking - thinking how good it was all this
happened so, and how near I come to being lost and going to


87

hell. And went on thinking. And got to thinking oer our trip
down the rier, and I see Jim beore me all the time: in the
day and in the night-time, sometimes moonlight, sometimes
storms, and we a-loating along, talking and singing and
laughing. But somehow I couldn't seem to strike no places to
harden me against him, but only the other kind. I'd see him
standing my watch on top o his'n, 'stead o calling me, so I
could go on sleeping, and see him how glad he was when I
come back out o the og, and when I come to him again in
the swamp, up there where the eud was, and such-like times,
and would always call me honey, and pet me and do
eerything he could think o or me, and how good he always
was, and at last I struck the time I saed him by telling he
men we had small-pox aboard, and he was so grateul, and
said I was the best riend old Jim eer had in the world, and
the ov, one he's got now.

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LMILY DICKINSON
,1830 - 1886,

Lmily Dickinson was born in 1830 in Amherst,
Massachusetts and spent her entire lie in the Dickinson
amily home there. She attended Amherst Academy and the
Mount Iolyoke lemale Seminary. Occasionally she went to
Springield and to Boston. In 1854 she spent three weeks in
\ashington and two more in Philadelphia.
It was in her natie town and home, howeer, that she
experienced the greatness, richness, beauty and terror o the
amiliar and the near-at-hand. 1he miracles were to be ound
in common insects and small animals, in eeryday rituals. As
she had a poor sight, she was rather isolated rom people.
Ier experience o human nature was oered by the
riendships she cultiated. 1he closest riends o Dickinson
were part o the amily circle: her sister Lainia, her brother
Austin, her sister-in-law, Susan ,whom she was painully
betrayed by,. Other close riendships deeloped by means o
correspondence.
1he aection or her riends was so strong that it
exhausted them and it seems her loe concentrated on one
beloed riend at a time. She died in 1886 ater some years in
which she could hardly bear to be in the presence o anyone
except a member o her amily.
Lmily Dickinson published only eight poems during
her lietime, one een without her consent. Ater her death, it
was her sister who discoered hundreds o poems thrown in


89

bureau drawers and had them published. 1he irst collection
o poems was published in 1890 edited by M. L. 1odd and 1.
\. Iigginson ,one o her penriends,. A complete collection,
including ariants o reading and comparisons o all the
manuscripts was edited by her biographer, 1homas I.
Johnson in 1955.
Since 1890, Lmily Dickinson has become a point o
interest or many critics who tried to decipher the mysterious
and odd lines o the poet. Some critics claimed that her
poetry was rather unusual or the period, considering her
innoatie in the sense o anticipating the modernist iews.
Dickinson possessed an acute awareness o sensory
experience and psychological actualities, and the discoeries
she made in these areas were expressed with rankness
Dickinson was inluenced by the Romantic iew o
the poet as a hero and shared the Romantic concern with the
relation between consciousness and nature. Ier poems hae
similarities with the seenteenth century Lnglish metaphysical
poets. Like John Donne`s, her poems exhibit a sharp
intellectual wit presenting the permanent argument with
nature and diinity. Ier concern is not or religious truth but
or personal relation to the world, probably the hidden
motie or writing. In orm, she borrowed rom the
metaphysical poets the interplay o dierse ocabularies, the
prousion o paradox, ambiguity and irony and the capacity to
uniy seeral types o meanings into a single metaphor ,see
Perez 1981:389,.
Ier poems ary in themes and approach but are
gien unity by a continuity o deices and resources as well as
by the ambiguity o her religious attitude. She was irst a
religious poet who saw her work as the embodiment o her

Cristina NICOLAL
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own unique religious and poetic ision, a ision quickened
and troubled by a sense o guilt, a consciousness o |...[ her
unredeemed yet perhaps not unredeemable soul` ,Brooks
193:1231,. 1he common rituals o the church made their
way in her poetry ,sermons, marriages, unerals, where they
became metaphors o spiritual experience. Len the structure
o many poems is a modiied structure o the Protestant
hymn structure because, or Dickinson, poetry was her mode
o prayer ,see Brooks 193:1231-1232,.
Although she inherited the Puritan disdain or this
world` ,Brooks 193:1233, as opposed to the expectations o
the lie hereater, she realized that, as a poet, she was bound
to the things o this world. It was within them that she must
search or the miraculous, although they must presere their
integrity. She was also aware o the act that her poems
cannot compete with the heaenly spectacle. Moreoer, she
was committed, as a poet, to aoiding that competition ,see
Brooks 193:1233,.

2. Poetr,
1he subjects o her poems are loe, death, nature,
immortality, beauty. 1he images employed in the lines are
kinesthetic, highly concentrated, and intensely charged with
eeling. Ier greatest lyrics are on the theme o death, which is
personiied as a monarch, a lord, or a kindly but irresistible
loer. Ioweer, her moods ary widely, rom melancholy to
exuberance, grie to joy, despair to spiritual intoxication.
1he style o Dickinson is easily recognizable. It seems
that language is itsel one o the subjects o her poems, as
long as the indiidual is seen as a point where seeral
discourses meet rather than an autonomous sel ,see Kirkby


91

1993: 19-41,. 1he syntax o the poems is ar rom respecting
the traditional Lnglish sentence order, but the apparent chaos
seems to ollow closely a Latin practice whose principles
appear in arious grammar books. Moreoer, her poems
present a isual oddity gien by her particular system o
dashes and capitalizations. She anticipated the modern
concept o melody in poetry by assonance, dissonance, and
o-rhyme. She also discoered beore the twentieth-century
poets, that ellipsis o thought and erbal ambiguity are ital
or a poem ,see Brooks 193:1234,.
Since her poems were published mostly ater her death
and were not really prepared or publication ,some critics
een claim they were uninished,, they also lacked a title.
1homas Johnson decided to count them and gie each o
them a number as a title, in other collections, the title is
simply the irst line.

2.1. ]. ;1be Cra.. .o itte ba. to ao)
In the poem ]. ;1be Cra.. .o itte ba. to ao) appear
seeral o Lmily`s heraldic marks: butterly, bee, music, pearl,
dew, odor. 1he major symbol is the grass, a symbol largely
used by other American poets such as \hitman and
Sandburg. 1he attitude o eny` towards the immutable
sinless` passiity o natural elements is, as it also was with
John Donne, ery common with the poetess and it is openly
reealed in the last line o the poem ,I wish I were a Iay`,,
which also marks the ego-presence or the irst time in the
poem. 1he poem has peculiar combinations o words and
images: impressie metaphors ,Sphere o simple Green`,,
extended personiications ,the grass holds the Sunshine in
its lap`, is ine as a Duchess`,, aourite association o

Cristina NICOLAL
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domestic` words and attributes taken rom an abstract
sphere ,Soereign Barns`, ,see Perez 1981:392-393,.

2.2. ]. 111 ;1bi. i. v, etter to tbe !ora)
1he poem ]. 111 ;1bi. i. v, etter to tbe !ora) relects
the act that or Lmily Dickinson, who lied the lie o a
hermit, letters became her aourite medium o
communication. She speaks about her concept o seclusion,
the letter being the symbol o detachment, o indirect relation
with the enironment. Distance is ery important to
Dickinson. On the other hand, her letter to the \orld`
seems to be a message by which she might reeal her
intuitions and epiphanies ,the simple News that Nature
told`, to her sweet Countrymen`. 1his audience is asked, in
the last line o the poem, to judge tenderly, - o Me`. In
point o prosody, this poem illustrates one o Dickinson`s
aourite types o rhyme: the marks o the poetic ego are
linked by rhyme to the names o her aourite abstractions
e.g me` - Majesty`. On the other hand, it is also by means
o prosody ,rhyme, to be more speciic, that she connects
two opposed realms: the one o abstraction and the one o
lie as perceied by the senses: is` - Analysis` ,]. ,.

2.. ]. 12 ;ecav.e cova vot .top for Deatb)
1he poem ]. 12 ;ecav.e cova vot .top for Deatb) is
centred upon two abstractions, mortality and eternity, which
associate into a clear image. Death is seen as a gentleman who
takes a lady or a drie, their ride objectiying the terror o
death. 1he poem contains reerences to her natie landscape.
Based on the common moti o the journey, the poem
unolds a journey in space as well as a journey in time, rom


93

childhood towards old age: \e passed the School, where
Children stroe , At Recess - in the Ring - , \e passed the
lields o Gazing Grain - , \e passed the Setting Sun -`.
1he metaphor o the carriage and the metaphor o the house-
tomb are ery suggestie o the poet`s attitude towards death
as part o the natural rhythm, o nature`s cyclical grace.
Lmily Dickinson`s poetry relects the modern and
contemporary inolement with the shiting psychic state,
and with the theme o identity, especially |.[ the ear o the
loss o identity.` ,Brooks 193:1220,

J. 333
(1he Grass so little has to do)

1he Grass so little has to do -
A Sphere o simple Green
\ith only Butterlies to brood
And Bees to entertain -

And stir all day to pretty 1unes
1he Breezes etch along -
And hold the Sunshine in its lap
And blow to eerything -

And thread the Dews, all night, like Pearls -
And make itsel so ine
A Duchess were too common
lor such a noticing -

Cristina NICOLAL
94

And een when it dies - to pass
In Odors so diine -
Like Lowly spices, lain to sleep -
Or Spikenards, perishing -

And then, in Soereign Barns to dwell -
And dream the Days away,
1he Grass so little has to do
I wish I were a Iay -

J. 44J
(1his is my letter to the World)

1his is my letter to the \orld
1hat neer wrote to Me -
1he simple News that Nature told -
\ith tender Majesty

Ier Message is committed
1o Iands I cannot see -
lor loe o Ier - Sweet - countrymen -
Judge tenderly - o Me

J. 7J2
(Because I could not stop for Death)

Because I could not stop or Death -
Ie kindly stopped or me -
1he Carriage held but just Ourseles -
And Immortality.


95

\e slowly droe - Ie knew no haste
And I had put away
My labour and my leisure too,
lor Iis Ciility -

\e passed the School, where Children stroe
At Recess - in the Ring -
\e passed the lields o Gazing Grain -
\e passed the Setting Sun -

Or rather - Ie passed Us -
1he Dews drew quiering and chill -
lor only Gossamer, my Gown -
My 1ippet - only 1ulle -

\e paused beore a Iouse that seemed
A Swelling o the Ground -
1he Roo was scarcely isible -
1he Cornice - in the Ground -

Since then - tis Centuries - and yet
leels shorter than the Day
I irst surmised the Iorses` Ieads
\ere toward Lternity -

Cristina NICOLAL
96

JACK LONDON
,186-1916,

A San lranciscan by birth, John London was the
bastard o an astrologer named \. I. Chaney, who, although
a charlatan, was a man o great intellectual power. Iis
eccentric mother, a spiritualist, later married a man named
London who gae his name to the boy. Jack London`s
childhood was marked by poerty, spiritualist sances and the
tough lie o San lrancisco Bay. Ie attended or a short time
Oakland Iigh School and then the Uniersity o Caliornia at
Berkeley, yet most o his education was a sel-made one.
Until the age o 21, he had already changed arious jobs
among which those o a hand on a sailing oyage to Japan
and a prospector in the Klondike gold rush. Iis prodigious
reading includes scientists and philosophers ,Spencer, Darwin,
Nietzsche, Marx, Lngels, Iuxley,, realistic writers ,llaubert,
Zola, and Lnglish and American literature ,Conrad, Iardy,
Kipling, Melille,.
Jack London`s literary career was launched by the
collection o stories entitled 1be ov of tbe !of ,1900,. Iis
second book, 1be Ca of tbe !ia ,1903, made him rich. But
publishing books didn`t preent him rom leading an
adenturous lie. Ie was a reporter o the Russo-Japanese
\ar, later on, he lied in the slums o London to study the
degradation o a great city ,the result o this adenture was
the noel 1be Peope of tbe .b,.., 1902,, sailed around the
world in a sel-made yacht to make propaganda or the


97

socialist reolution ,in 1905 he became a member o the
American Socialist Party,, ran or mayor o Oakland twice,
created a model ranch in Sonoma County. \et, little by little,
his strong constitution was destoyed by alcohol, debts and
illness and he is supposed to hae committed suicide in 1916.
A ery proliic writer, Jack London wrote about 50
books o iction, drama and essays. Iis most widely read
noels are his Alsaka stories: 1be Ca of tbe !ia ,1903,, !bite
avg ,1906, and vrvivg Da,igbt ,1910,. Other works include
the noel 1be ea!of ,1904,, the collection o short stories
1be Roaa, the semi-autobiographical noel Martiv aev ,1909,,
a trael book 1be Crvi.e of tbe var ,1911, and 1be !ar of tbe
Ca..e. ,1906, - a collection o articles and lectures on
socialism.
Although considered a minor prose writer by some
critics ,or example, Cleanth Brooks et. al. only deote him 2
1,2 pages in their 290-page .vericav iteratvre - tbe Maer.
ava tbe Maivg,, mostly because his works are ery easy to
read and appeal to readers o all countries and ages, he was
celebrated by others or his temperate Naturalism, mythical
and arious literary inluences. Ie expresses in his works his
own iew on lie, on the indiidual and on his chances in lie.
1he themes he most aours are man`s ight with nature,
usually conceied as a ight or surial, as well as man`s ight
or social justice.
Jack London`s conception on lie has deeloped under
the inluence o Spencer`s eolutionism and o Marx`s
doctrine. lrom Spencer, he borrowed the belie in the leading
role o heredity and o the surrounding enironment in
moulding the character o the indiidual. 1he principle o
the surial o the ittest`, oten mirrored in the eolution

Cristina NICOLAL
98

o his heroes, is another idea due to his readings in Spencer.
On the other hand, the Marxist doctrine accounts or his
progressie ideas in the problems o society and politics, such
as the necessity o the reolutions, the class warare, the
conidence in the triumph o the working class oer the
capitalists. Moreoer, his Darwinian ideas that the strongest
and the ittest must necessarily win the ight while the
weakest are let no chances to succeed echo Nietzsche`s
doctrine o tbe .vpervav which he seems to hae adopted
when creating his powerul and ruthless heroes destined to
dominate the weak ,see Perez 1981: 121-122,.
Larle Labor, one o London`s supporters, deotes an
essay to his dog stories` ,see 1aernier-Courbin 1983: 114-
130,, including in this category the ollowing three works:
tara, 1be Ca of tbe !ia and !bite avg. Although these
stories ocus on the eolution o some canine protagonists,
they are not only some books or children. 1hus, Labor
considers 1be Ca of tbe !ia, the greatest o these works ,and
o London`s whole creation, as most critics agree, as a
mythic romance`, a story o initiation, while !bite avg is
seen as a sociological able` ,1aernier-Courbin 1983: 115,.

2. 1be Ca of tbe !ia
2.1. Pot
I the title hero o the short story tara is a dog who,
being continually tortured by his master, becomes the
incarnation o eil and inally kills his master, Buck, the dog
hero o 1be Ca of tbe !ia, eoles rom a usual dog to the
mythical Ghost Dog. Kidnapped rom his good Caliornian
master, Judge Miller, Buck is subjected to an excessiely
iolent treatment by Red Sweater. 1aken to Northland, he


99

meets his companions or the journey to come and realizes
that lie is ery cruel, because it means ight or surial: the
most riendly o the dogs, Curly, is knocked down and then
ripped o by a husky. But Buck resists and soon he
challenges Spitz or the leadership o the team and wins. In
their journey in the North, the new masters o the dogs,
Charles, Mercedes, his wie and her brother Ial, oerwork,
stare and beat the dogs. One day, Ial beats Buck nearly to
death and leaes him there. 1he caraan moes on without
him and disappears into the thawing ice o \ukon Rier.
Rescued by John 1hornton, Buck wins back his
strength and his deotion or his rescuer grows. Iis loe or
the new master is proed by his winning a thousand-dollar
wager or him by moing a hal-ton sled a hundred yards.
\ith this money, 1hornton and Buck go towards the Last in
search o a long lost mine. \hen they reach their destination,
1hornton and his party are killed by the saage \eehats and
only Buck suries to inally turn into the Immortal Ghost
Dog o Northland.

2.2 .va,.i.
1his mythical romance describes the mythical hero`s
progress rom the ciilized world through the natural and
beyond to the supernatural world.` ,1aernier-Courbin 1983:
119,. 1his Myth o the Iero deelops upon the moti o the
journey, a journey o sel-discoery and initiation. 1he
journey deelops both in space, with Southland being
associated to positie alues ,loe, and Northland - to
negatie ones ,iolence, hatred, ,as suggested by \atson
1983: 43, and in time, rom real time to timelessness.
Larle Labor groups the seen chapters o the noel in

Cristina NICOLAL
100

our moements ,see 1aernier-Courbin 1983: 119-123,. 1he
irst moement ,Chapter 1 to Chapter 3, presents the irst
phase o initiation o the hero: he learns the tough lesson o
surial and his moral alues change in a world where stealing
means suriing. In the second moement ,Chapter 4 to
Chapter 5, the mythical hero, now a leader, must conirm his
diinity by death ,a symbolical one physically represented as
the sound beating he gets rom Ial,. 1he third moement
,Chapter 6, introduces John 1hornton, the typical helper who
aids the hero to reach his goal. It is the lesson o loe that
this good man teaches Buck. But loe is only a bond or the
mythical hero who is released o it in the last moement o
the noel ,Chapter , when he inally acquires his wholly
diine eatures by its turning into the Immortal Ghost Dog:
|And when[ the long winter nights come on and the woles
ollow their meat into the lower alleys . a great gloriously
coated wol, like, and yet unlike, all other woles . may be
seen running at the head o the pack through the pale
moonlight or glimmering borealis, leaping gigantic aboe his
ellows, his great throat abellow as he sings a song o the
younger world, which is the song o the pack.`
\ith roots in a ghost dog story in Alaskan olklore,
1be Ca of tbe !ia combines arious literary inluences, listed
and illustrated at large by Charles \atson ,1983:33-52,.
Among them, mention may be made o the animal stories o
Rudyard Kipling ,]vvge oo - 1894,, Mob, Dic ,rom which
he preseres some o the negatie symbols o whiteness -
death, cold, negatie eelings,, 1be .arevtvre. of vceberr,
ivv ,the perennial American dream o escape and reedom
associated with the world o nature,. 1he initiation rites
present in the book can be explained with the help o lrazer`s


101

1be Coaev ovgb and lreud`s 1otev ava 1aboo: the ritual
sacriice |which appears in the scene o Buck`s battle with
Spitz[ reenacts the primal patricide, in which a son, cast out
o the horde by his ather, returns at the head o a band o
brothers to kill the ather and usurp the leadership` ,\atson
1983: 4,.

. !bite avg
1he other dog story mentioned aboe, !bite avg, can
be considered the opposite o 1be Ca of tbe !ia i one takes
into account that it describes the progress o the title hero
rom wilderness towards total integration in society. lrom his
irst master, the Indian Gray Beaer, \hite lang, part wol,
part husky, learns obedience, loyalty, discipline o work and
rom a worshipper o wilderness he becomes a worshipper o
man. Bartered by the Indian or some whisky, \hite lang
sees another ace o his new god. Iis new master, Beauty`
Smith, proes a real monster who punishes him by training
him to kill other animals. Iis match proes to be only the
bulldog who almost kills him. Saed by \eedon Scott, a
white ciilized man, \hite lang inally integrates in society
becoming the emblem o the traditional riendship between
dog and man.
Beyond its story o initiation, ollowing the traditional
pattern o ordeal, transormation and inal integration in
society, !bite avg is also a naturalistic noel, in which the
characters are presented as the products o their
enironment: Beauty Smith had not created himsel, and no
blame was to be attached to him. Ie had come into the world
with a twisted body and a brute intelligence. 1his had
constituted the clay o him, and it had not been kindly

Cristina NICOLAL
102

moulded by the world.` \hite lang stands or a cluster o
contrasting alues which may be organized under the general
rubric o the 1ame`: comprised herein are Lie, Loe,
Compassion, Reason, Order, Justice, Ciilization` ,1aernier-
Courbin 1983: 125,.
Drawing a parallel between !bite avg and 1be Ca of
tbe !ia, Charles \atson also suggests that the ormer bears
the trace o Plato`s philosophy. \hite lang`s experience o
breaking through the wall o the world` echoes Plato`s
allegory o the cae, while his inal selless loe is a ersion o
Plato`s ideal o Goodness.

1. 1be ea!of
Another noel written by Jack London, 1be ea!of,
is a irst-person narratie o Iumphrey Van \eyden, a critic
brought up in the intellectual circles o San lranciso, who
describes his journey on a erryboat crossing San lrancisco
Bay. 1he erryboat sinks in the og and Iumphrey is saed by
\ol Larsen, the captain o the Cbo.t, a sealing ship heading
towards Japan. 1he weak and coward Iumphrey grows to
admire the sadistic powerul \ol Larsen. 1he relationship
between the two opposed men will result in a change on both
sides: \ol Larsen plunges in extensie reading and becomes
a ery pessimistic thinker with suicidal tendencies, while
Iumphrey builds and cultiates his strength, a condition or
surial on this ship. In the end, the two reach a climax o
conlict with the arrial on board o the ship o Maud
Brewster, a beautiul young woman who had been
shipwrecked. She rouses the latent manhood in Iumphrey,
but Larsen also eels attracted to her and tries to rape her.
Iumphrey and Maud sae their relationship by escaping on


103

an island, but later on, Larsen is shipwrecked on the same
island. Blind and weak, Larsen is now deeated in the
competition o strength by Iumphrey who succeeds in
raising their masts o the Cbo.t back into their place, thus
inally proing his manhood. 1he book ends with
Iumphrey`s exultation and Larsen`s death.
1be ea!of is centred on the theme o ataism,
speciic to the naturalistic writers, according to which
ciilization is but a erneer which, when stripped away,
permits man`s reersion to his intrinsically saage nature`
,\atson 1983: 59,. Some Gothic romance characteristics can
also be identiied in this noel, among which the presence o
a hero-illain, \ol Larsen, who endangers the lie and irtue
o a ulnerable young lady, Maud Brewster, or the description
o Iumphrey`s irst night on the Cbo.t, with the wind
sounding with a muled roar` and an endless creaking`
seeming to surround him ,see \atson 1983 64-65,. \ol
Larsen can also encourage laustian readings o the book,
through his egotism and deilish eatures, but his
indecisieness, melancholy and acillation between the pains
o lie and the uncertainties o death also make him a
Iamletian igure.
Jack London remains in the history o American
literature as a writer who turned naturalism into a romantic
popular and populist celebration - away rom a philosophy o
despair or ironic ictimization toward a celebration o will
and italism.` ,Ruland 1991: 244,.

Cristina NICOLAL
104

Irom 1he Call of the Wild
Chapter VI Ior the Love of a Man

\hen John 1hornton roze his eet in the preious
December his partners had made him comortable and let
him to get well, going on themseles up the rier to get out a
rat o saw-logs or Dawson. Ie was still limping slightly at
the time he rescued Buck, but with the continued warm
weather een the slight limp let him. And here, lying by the
rier bank through the long spring days, watching the running
water, listening lazily to the songs o birds and the hum o
nature, Buck slowly won back his strength.
A rest comes ery good ater one has traelled three
thousand miles, and it must be conessed that Buck waxed
lazy as his wounds healed, his muscles swelled out, and the
lesh came back to coer his bones. lor that matter, they
were all loaing, - Buck, John 1hornton, and Skeet and Nig, -
waiting or the rat to come that was to carry them down to
Dawson. Skeet was a little Irish setter who early made riends
with Buck, who, in a dying condition, was unable to resent
her irst adances. She had the doctor trait which some dogs
possess, and as a mother cat washes her kittens, so she
washed and cleansed Buck's wounds. Regularly, each morning
ater he had inished his breakast, she perormed her sel-
appointed task, till he came to look or her ministrations as
much as he did or 1hornton's. Nig, equally riendly, though
less demonstratie, was a huge black dog, hal bloodhound
and hal deerhound, with eyes that laughed and a boundless
good nature.
1o Buck's surprise these dogs maniested no jealousy
toward him. 1hey seemed to share the kindliness and


105

largeness o John 1hornton. As Buck grew stronger they
enticed him into all sorts o ridiculous games, in which
1hornton himsel could not orbear to join, and in this
ashion Buck romped through his conalescence and into a
new existence. Loe, genuine passionate loe, was his or the
irst time. 1his he had neer experienced at Judge Miller's
down in the sun-kissed Santa Clara Valley. \ith the Judge's
sons, hunting and tramping, it had been a working
partnership, with the Judge's grandsons, a sort o pompous
guardianship, and with the Judge himsel, a stately and
digniied riendship. But loe that was eerish and burning,
that was adoration, that was madness, it had taken John
1hornton to arouse.
1his man had saed his lie, which was something, but,
urther, he was the ideal master. Other men saw to the
welare o their dogs rom a sense o duty and business
expediency, he saw to the welare o his as i they were his
own children, because he could not help it. And he saw
urther. Ie neer orgot a kindly greeting or a cheering word,
and to sit down or a long talk with them ,gas` he called it,
was as much his delight as theirs. Ie had a way o taking
Buck's head roughly between his hands, and resting his own
head upon Buck's, o shaking him back and orth, the while
calling him ill names that to Buck were loe names. Buck
knew no greater joy than that rough embrace and the sound
o murmured oaths, and at each jerk back and orth it eemed
that his heart would be shaken out o his body so great was
its ecstasy. And when, released, he sprang to his eet, his
mouth laughing, his eyes eloquent, his throat ibrant with
unuttered sound, and in that ashion remained without
moement, John 1hornton would reerently exclaim, God!

Cristina NICOLAL
106

you can all but speak!`
Buck had a trick o loe expression that was akin to
hurt. Ie would oten seize 1hornton's hand in his mouth and
close so iercely that the lesh bore the impress o his teeth
or some time aterward. And as Buck understood the oaths
to be loe words, so the man understood this eigned bite or
a caress.
lor the most part, howeer, Buck's loe was
expressed in adoration. \hile he went wild with happiness
when 1hornton touched him or spoke to him, he did not
seek these tokens. Unlike Skeet, who was wont to shoe her
nose under 1hornton's hand and nudge and nudge till petted,
or Nig, who would stalk up and rest his great head on
1hornton's knee, Buck was content to adore at a distance.
Ie would lie by the hour, eager, alert, at 1hornton's eet,
looking up into his ace, dwelling upon it, studying it,
ollowing with keenest interest each leeting expression, eery
moement or change o eature. Or, as chance might hae it,
he would lie arther away, to the side or rear, watching the
outlines o the man and the occasional moements o his
body. And oten, such was the communion in which they
lied, the strength o Buck's gaze would draw John
1hornton's head around, and he would return the gaze,
without speech, his heart shining out o his eyes as Buck's
heart shone out.
lor a long time ater his rescue, Buck did not like
1hornton to get out o his sight. lrom the moment he let
the tent to when he entered it again, Buck would ollow at his
heels. Iis transient masters since he had come into the
Northland had bred in him a ear that no master could be
permanent. Ie was araid that 1hornton would pass out o


107

his lie as Perrault and lrancois and the Scotch hal-breed
had passed out. Len in the night, in his dreams, he was
haunted by this ear. At such times he would shake o sleep
and creep through the chill to the lap o the tent, where he
would stand and listen to the sound o his master's breathing.
But in spite o this great loe he bore John 1hornton,
which seemed to bespeak the sot ciilizing inluence, the
strain o the primitie, which the Northland had aroused in
him, remained alie and actie. laithulness and deotion,
things born o ire and roo, were his, yet he retained his
wildness and wiliness. Ie was a thing o the wild, come in
rom the wild to sit by John 1hornton's ire, rather than a dog
o the sot Southland stamped with the marks o generations
o ciilization. Because o his ery great loe, he could not
steal rom this man, but rom any other man, in any other
camp, he did not hesitate an instant, while the cunning with
which he stole enabled him to escape detection.
Iis ace and body were scored by the teeth o many
dogs, and he ought as iercely as eer and more shrewdly.
Skeet and Nig were too good-natured or quarrelling,--besides,
they belonged to John 1hornton, but the strange dog, no
matter what the breed or alor, switly acknowledged Buck's
supremacy or ound himsel struggling or lie with a terrible
antagonist. And Buck was merciless. Ie had learned well the
law o club and ang, and he neer orewent an adantage or
drew back rom a oe he had started on the way to Death. Ie
had lessoned rom Spitz, and rom the chie ighting dogs o
the police and mail, and knew there was no middle course.
Ie must master or be mastered, while to show mercy was a
weakness. Mercy did not exist in the primordial lie. It was
misunderstood or ear, and such misunderstandings made

Cristina NICOLAL
108

or death. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten, was the law, and
this mandate, down out o the depths o 1ime, he obeyed.
Ie was older than the days he had seen and the
breaths he had drawn. Ie linked the past with the present,
and the eternity behind him throbbed through him in a
mighty rhythm to which he swayed as the tides and seasons
swayed. Ie sat by John 1hornton's ire, a broad-breasted
dog, white-anged and long-urred, but behind him were the
shades o all anner o dogs, hal-woles and wild woles,
urgent and rompting, tasting the saor o the meat he ate,
thirsting or the water he drank, scenting the wind with him,
listening with him and telling him the sounds made by the
wild lie in the orest, dictating his moods, directing his
actions, lying down to sleep with him when he lay down, and
dreaming with him and beyond him and becoming
themseles the stu o his dreams.
So peremptorily did these shades beckon him, that
each day mankind and the claims o mankind slipped arther
rom him. Deep in the orest a call was sounding, and as
oten as he heard this call, mysteriously thrilling and luring, he
elt compelled to turn his back upon the ire and the beaten
earth around it, and to plunge into the orest, and on and on,
he knew not where or why, nor did he wonder where or why,
the call sounding imperiously, deep in the orest. But as
oten as he gained the sot unbroken earth and the green
shade, the loe or John 1hornton drew him back to the ire
again.


109

WILLIAM IAULKNLR
,189 - 1962,

\illiam laulkner was the son o Murray lalkner who
was to become the business manager o the Uniersity o
Mississippi. During \orld \ar I, he joined the Canadian
Royal llying Corps and ater the war, laulkner came back to
Oxord and attended the Uniersity o Mississippi. As a
student, he wrote or the school papers and magazines but he
also had the reputation o an eccentric.
In 1925 laulkner stayed in New Orleans or a ew
months and did a lot o writing. 1here he met the noelist
Sherwood Anderson, whose book !ive.bvrg, Obio was a pillar
o American Modernism. Later on, laulkner traelled to
Lurope, but only to return shortly ater to Oxord and to
continue to write. Iis writings began to sell well and so he
son aorded to purchase a large mansion in Oxord, where
he lied and wrote in seclusion. In 1950, he was awarded the
Nobel Prize or Literature and was a writer-in-residence at
the Uniersity o Virginia. Ie returned to Oxord in June o
1962 and died o a heart attack on the morning o July 6 o
that year.
In 1924 his irst book o poetry, 1be Marbe avv, was
published, but it was critically banned and had ew buyers.
Iis riendship with Anderson inspired him to start writing
noels, and his irst noel, oaier.` Pa,, was published in 1926
and was critically accepted although it sold ew copies.
laulkner wrote our more noels between 1926 and 1931:

Cristina NICOLAL
110

Mo.qvitoe. ,192,, artori. ,1929,, 1be ovva ava tbe vr, ,1929,,
and .. a, D,ivg ,1930,, but none o them sold well. linally,
in 1931, avctvar, was published and became inancially
successul. Between this time and the 1940`s, laulkner wrote
seen more noels, including his amous igbt iv .vgv.t
,1932, and .b.aov, .b.aov! ,1936,. 1owards the end o his
lie, he published 1be vope. 1riog,, including 1be avet
,1940,, 1be 1orv ,195, and 1be Mav.iov ,1959,.
laulkner created the myth o \oknapatawpha County,
a cosmos o my own` as he called it. Behind its ictitious
name, this country has a reerent in his Mississippi home
,Laayette County, with Jeerson as its center town ,a
ictional ersion o the real Oxord,. \oknapatawpha
becomes the embodiment o the South itsel with its
traditional respect o the aristocratic alues and culture as well
as with its cult or the land on which the people are totally
dependent. Besides the Southern myth o the past aristocracy,
which represents an ideal way o lie based on manners,
culture, ceremony, there is also a powerul eeling o guilt
caused by the sin o slaery which haunts the South. Once
with the deeat o the South in the Ciil \ar, the myth o the
South takes the orm o a nostalgic and sentimental eocation
o the glamour o the past. laulkner`s \oknapatawpha stories
describe the lie o this region oer a long period ,1820-1940,,
dealing with the legend o the settling o the South ,on land
seized rom the Indians, by aristocrats such as Sartoris or new
materialistic men such as 1homas Sutpen. 1hese single-
minded men lie only to carry out a certain design` and their
ailure in doing so is accounted or as a mistake in the
respectie design: their lie is based on guilt ,slaery,, on their
reusal to consider the Negro as a human being. Llizabeth


111

Kerr deotes her book, Yovapatarpba. avver`. itte
Po.tage tavp of âtire oi, to a detailed analysis o the
mythical land created by laulkner with all its physical and
sociological distinctie eatures.
Although related to the traditional American romance,
laulkner`s noels belong mainly to the 20
th
century
experimental noel. 1he main deice used in his books is the
stream o consciousness technique which helps him to
emphasize the complexity o his characters and to achiee a
deep psychological realism. Iis characters are at the same
time narrators who report their actions and their thoughts,
memories and impressions. 1hereore, the ocus is on
physical action and on the psychological background o it.
1he presence o the author is almost totally erased, because
he allows his characters to speak, act, think and remember.
Based on the interior monologue, the noels hae a
dislocated, ragmentary action and a disrupted chronology
which can be explained in terms o his concept o time as a
permanent mingling o the past and the present ,see Perez
1981: 15,.

2. 1be ovva ava tbe vr,
Considered by some critics laulkner`s best noel, 1be
ovva ava tbe vr, relates in a stream-o-consciousness
manner the degeneration and the all o the Compson amily.
Diided in our sections, the noel actually contains one story
presented our dierent times in our dierent ways, each
section being told through the mind o a dierent character.
1he narratie is oten interrupted by lashbacks and sudden
shits in time but the inal result contributes to the creation o
a multiple perspectie o the eents. 1he actual time o the

Cristina NICOLAL
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action is Laster Day 1928 but the span o the noel coers
the period between Damuddy`s death in 1898 and the
present` time and much o the action takes place in 1910.
1he title o the noel is borrowed rom Macbeth`s
speech about lie`s utility: Lie is a tale , 1old by an idiot,
ull o sound and ury , Signiying nothing.` ,Macbetb, .ct 1,
ceve 1,. I the three sections o the noel seem to be written
in keeping with this pessimistic and nihilistic tone, the ourth
section introduces a more optimistic note.
1he irst section o the noel belongs to Benjy, the
Compsons` idiot son, and explores a world o simple
sensations and eelings since Benjy`s mind is quite eeble.
Unconscious o time, he lies in a perpetual present and
thereore the past and the present continually mingle in his
mind. Iis monologue is dominated by two sets o related
episodes: his 33
rd
anniersary in 1928 and the day o
grandmother`s death and uneral, when the children play by a
stream. Iis primitie responses to sensory stimuli is
completed by his possessing a mysterious insight, particularly
concerning his sister, Caddy ,he knows the meaning o the
perume Caddy uses, he can sense her loss o irginity,. Benjy
symbolizes loe, simple and inarticulate but o an extreme
intensity, but at the same time he can be considered an image
o diine innocence ,see Perez 1981:18-19,.
1he second section ilters the eents through
Quentin`s consciousness. Benjy`s brother, Quentin, is a
sensitie and melancholy introert man whose mental lie
deals only with the past, the obsessie past when Caddy was
seduced by Dalton Ames. Ie loes his sister as much as
Benjy, but in a more complex way. 1o a certain extent, this
loe embodies Quentin`s passion or the idea o honour and


113

purity which he associates with Caddy. Being unable either to
annihilate or to ulill the principles o his code o honour,
Quentin escapes into the reliing o another time, the time o
their happy childhood together. Iis idealism echoes the
Southern Puritan idealization o woman and emphasis on
honour. Quentin`s section contains seeral layers o time
which are intermingled: the details o his Iarard lie on the
day o his suicide as well as his recollection o preious eents.
During his Iarard days, he meditates on his amily whom
he inds totally unsatisactory: his ather has declined and
started to drink, his hypochondriac and selish mother has
neer shown any real loe or her children ,except or Jason,
and Caddy leads a promiscuous lie. Iis obsession with the
past and rejection o the uture ends up in his attempt to kill
time by committing suicide, thus making time stop at one
moment - the moment o happiness when he was together
with Caddy ,see Perez 1981:19-180,.
1he third section o the noel presents a totally
dierent iew o lie and eents iltered through Jason`s
consciousness. A successul businessman, cold-hearted and
brutal, Jason is the head o the Compsons ater the ather`s
death. Ie looks only to uture and is the slae o money,
haing destroyed all emotional bonds. Iis section, as
opposed to the irst two, is dominated by hatred: Jason places
any kind o relationship on a commercial basis and he is so
selish that he depries his own niece, Quentin ,Caddy`s
daughter,, o her money. 1hus he appears as the illain in the
noel, whose preparations or the uture proe deceptie in
the end, when Quentin leaes home ,see Perez 1981:180-181,.
1he last section o the noel, mostly ocused on
Dilsey, traces the eents o Laster Sunday: Dilsey taking

Cristina NICOLAL
114

Benjy to the Negro church, the serice, their return. Dilsey is
the only character with a true amily tradition and a simple
aith in god. Loyal to the amily she seres, haing more
compassion and understanding than her own mistress, she is
a woman o stoic endurance, charity and good sense ,see
Perez 1981:181, ,see also \arren 1966: 9-121,.

. .. a, D,ivg
1his noel also deals with the clashes within a amily,
but here the story is centered around one single eent: the
journey o the Bundrens rom their \oknapatawpha arm to
Jeerson to carry out Addie Bundren`s dying wish to be
buried there. In spite o the obstacles ,a looded rier, a
wagon accident, a ire,, the amily`s promise to the dead
mother is inally ulilled. 1he story was considered a saga ,by
Donald Ieines, or an odyssey ,by Cleanth Brooks,, the
action becoming heroic and horriying, although the heroic
mingles with the grotesque or the comic.
1hough the ather and children seem only to hae in
mind the ulillment o Addie`s wish, the interior monologues
o each also reeal their secret moties. 1he selish husband,
Anse, is eager to go to town or a set o store-bought teeth,
while the daughter, Dewey Dell, hopes to ind there a drug to
sole the problem o her illegitimate pregnancy. 1he two
opposed brothers, Darl, the loeless child but the most
articulate o the amily, and Jewel, the beloed son who is the
ruit o Addie`s adulterous relationship with the reerend
\hitield, are also tempted by the idea o seeing the town.
Addie, the dying mother, proes to be the source o
the amily`s strength as well o its tension. Ier permanent
eeling o isolation and estrangement, her lack o aith in


115

words and her total belie in deeds has led to a loss o
communication with the people around ,see Perez 1981: 182-
184,.

1. .b.aov, .b.aov!
Integrating in laulkner`s main thematic concern, the
destruction o the South, this book reeals the destructie
power o clinging to a terrible past. \ith his ascinating
project o telling the Sutpen legacy through multiple narrators,
laulkner shows how history can be radically dierent
depending on who is telling the story.
.b.aov, .b.aov! is the story o a legend and the
people who tell it oer and oer again. In September 1909,
20-year-old Quentin Compson goes to his hometown o
Jeerson to isit Rosa Coldield, an older woman who makes
him listen to her ersion o the legend o 1homas Sutpen.
1hat same night, Quentin goes oer the story again with his
ather, Mr. Compson, who tells the story rom a dierent
perspectie. lie months later, when he goes to Iarard, he
reinents the story with his roommate, Shree McCannon.
In 1833, 1homas Sutpen came to Jeerson and built,
without any help but his own superhuman will, an enormous
mansion on 100 acres swindled rom an Indian tribe. \ith a
band o oreign slaes and a lrench architect, he raises the
house and cultiates a plantation, Sutpen`s Iundred`. One
o the richest single planters in the county, he marries Lllen
Coldield ,Rosa's elder sister, and has a son and daughter,
Ienry and Judith. 1he two children grow up with priilege
yet the knowledge that the town resents and despises their
ather. Ienry goes to the Uniersity o Mississippi in 1859,
and beriends a student named Charles Bon. Ie brings Bon

Cristina NICOLAL
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home or Christmas and holidays, and soon it is assumed that
Bon will marry Judith. But Sutpen recognizes in Bon his own
son - the son he abandoned when he repudiated his irst
wie, discoering she had black blood. Ie ollows Bon to
New Orleans to be sure o this act, then tells Ienry that they
cannot be married because Bon is actually Judith's hal-
brother.
Ienry reuses to beliee his ather and will not
abandon his riend, trying to conince himsel that Charles
Bon and Judith can be married een i it means incest. \et,
the inormation his ather tells him about Charles haing
black blood repulses Ienry in such a way that he shoots
Charles Bon as they walk up to the gates o Sutpen's
Iundred`. 1hen he disappears. Sutpen returns home ater
the war to a ruined dynasty and a deastated plantation.
Determined to start oer again, he irst tries to marry Rosa
Coldield, then takes up with Milly, the 15-year-old
granddaughter o a poor white squatter on his property.
Increasingly impoerished and alcoholic, Sutpen insults Milly
because their child proes to be a girl. lurious, her
grandather kills Sutpen that ery day in 1869. 1he story o
the amily ends with Ienry`s death and his house being
destroyed by a ire. No one remains o Sutpen's dynasty but
Jim Bond, a mentally-impaired man o mixed blood.
1he noel graitates around themes related to the
South. One such theme is the racial problem, central o the
house` o Sutpen and the house` o the South ,see \arren
1966: 251-21,. It is racial prejudice what made Ienry Sutpen
kill Charles Bon ,his crime reenacting the Biblical story o
Absalom who kills his hal-brother or the honour o his
sister,. laulkner leaes room or some ambiguity as to


117

whether or not Charles Bon actually had black blood, thereby
making it clear that the een the suggestion o black blood is
enough to put someone in the South beyond the pale in a
horribly destructie way.
1he ery structure o the book is woen with the
thread o memory. Lach character tells the Sutpen legend
rom his or her own memory, exercising selectie memory.
Both Miss Rosa and Mr. Compson omit important details
rom their stories and the implication is that Quentin does as
well. Memory plays an important role in the plotline o the
book as well: 1homas Sutpen`s memories o Charles Bon stir
him to ollow the young man back to New Orleans and make
crucial discoeries, Miss Rosa has lied her whole lie
obsessed by memories, and Quentin is attempting to escape
his own memories by leeing to the North and to Iarard.
1he history o the South, and especially o the Ciil
\ar, can also be seen as a theme o the noel, although what
laulkner intends to present is rather an emotional history o
the South leaing aside real dates and acts. Quentin is asked,
oer and oer again by Northerners at Iarard, about the
South. \hat's it like there.` \hen his roommate Shree
asks him to talk about the South, Quentin responds by telling
him the story o the Sutpen legend as he knows it. And in
telling this story, Quentin exhibits all the ambialence, loe,
and hatred towards the region that most Southerners hae. It
is also important that Quentin tells the story o Sutpen,
unknowingly, as a metaphor or the South and its post-Ciil
\ar history and memory.
1he theme o the haunted house is also present in this
noel. 1he original title or this book was Dar ov.e,
symbolizing both the work's Gothic roots and its depiction o

Cristina NICOLAL
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the dark house` o the South. Sutpen's haunted house on
Sutpen's Iundred is a metaphor or the South and all o the
sins that it is responsible or, including slaery and the
repudiation o the black sons` o the South. Just as Sutpen's
haunted house ell because it ailed to reconcile the black
sons with the white, the South, too, ell or the same reason
,see \arren 1966:15-203,.
laulkner`s steady aesthetic ision` ,Spiller 195: 220,
encouraged him to write some powerul noels reealing the
truth about the Southern prejudices and traditions. In his
exploration o human nature, which is always deep and
releant, laulkner moes towards myth, he discoers the
symbolic in the actual. As he himsel stated in his Nobel Prize
speech, his purpose was to deal with the old erities and
truths o the heart |.[ loe and honour and pity and pride
and compassion and sacriice`, the problems o the human
heart in conlict with itsel.`

from 1he Sound and the Iury
Section I. April Seventh, J928

Now, just listen at you.` Luster said. Ie just starts
like that. Ie been at it all morning. Cause it his birthday, I
reckon.`
Iow old he.`
Ie thirty-three.` Luster said. 1hirty-three this
morning.`
\ou mean, he been three years old thirty years.`
I going by what mammy say.` Luster said. I dont
know. \e going to hae thirty-three candles on a cake,


119

anyway. Little cake. \ont hardly hold them. Iush up. Come
on back here.` Ie came and caught my arm. \ou old
loony.` he said. \ou want me to whip you.`
I bet you will.`
I is done it. Iush, now.` Luster said. Aint I told you
you cant go up there. 1hey`ll knock your head clean o with
one o them balls. Come on, here.` Ie pulled me back. Sit
down.` I sat down and he took o my shoes and rolled up
my trousers. Now, git in that water and play and see can you
stop that slobbering and moaning.`
I hushed and got in the water ava Ro.v. cave ava .aia
to cove to .vpper ava Caaa, .aia,
t`. vot .vpper tive ,et. `v vot goivg.
She was wet. \e were playing in the branch and
Caddy squatted down and got her dress wet and Versh said,
\our mommer going to whip you or getting your
dress wet.`
She`s not going to do any such thing.` Caddy said.
Iow do you know.` Quentin said.
1hat`s all right how I know.` Caddy said. Iow do
you know.`
She said she was` Quentin said. Besides, I`m older
than you.`
I`m seen years old.` Caddy said, I guess I know.`
I`m older than that.` Quentin said. I go to school.
Don`t I, Versh.`
I`m going to school next year.` Caddy said, \hen it
comes. Aint I, Versh.`
\ou know she whip you when you get your dress
wet.` Versh said.
It`s not wet.` Caddy said. She stood up in the water

Cristina NICOLAL
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and looked at her dress. I`ll take it o.` she said. 1hen it`ll
dry.`
I bet you wont.` Quentin said.
I bet I will.` Caddy said.
I bet you better not.` Quentin said.
Caddy came to Versh and me and turned her back.
Unbutton it, Versh.` she said.
Don`t you do it, Versh.` Quentin said.
1aint none o my dress.` Versh said.
\ou unbutton it, Versh.` Caddy said, Or I`ll tell
Dilsey what you did yesterday.` So Versh unbuttoned it.
\ou just take your dress o.` Quentin said. Caddy
took her dress o and threw it on the bank. 1hen she didn`t
hae on anything but her bodice and drawers, and Quentin
slapped her and she slipped and ell down in the water. \hen
she got up she began to splash water on Quentin, and
Quentin splashed water on Caddy. Some o it splashed on
Versh and me and Versh picked me up and put me on the
bank. Ie said he was going to tell on Caddy and Quentin,
and then Quentin and Caddy began to splash water at Versh.
Ie got behind a bush.
I`m going to tell mammy on you all.` Versh said.
Quentin climbed up the bank and tried to catch Versh,
but Versh ran away and Quentin couldn`t. \hen Quentin
came back Versh stopped and hollered that he was going to
tell. Caddy told him that i he wouldn`t tell, they`d let him
come back. So Versh said he wouldn`t, and they let him.
Now I guess you`re satisied.` Quentin said, \e`ll
both get whipped now.`
I dont care.` Caddy said. I`ll run away.`
\es you will.` Quentin said.


121

I`ll run away and neer come back.` Caddy said. I
began to cry. Caddy turned around and said Iush.` So I
hushed. 1hen they played in the branch. Jason was playing
too. Ie was by himsel urther down the branch. Versh came
around the bush and lited me down into the water again.
Caddy was all wet and muddy behind, and I started to cry and
she came and squatted in the water.
Iush now.` she said. I`m not going to run away.`
So I hushed. Caddy smelled like trees in the rain. |.[
Iush.` he said, Shhhhhhhh.`
But I could smell it. 1.P. pulled me up and he put on
my clothes ast.
Iush, Benjy.` he said. \e going down to our
house. \ou want to go down to our house, where lrony is.
Iush. Shhhhh.`
Ie laced my shoes and put my cap on and we went
out. 1here was a light in the hall. Across the hall we could
hear Mother.
Shhhhhhh, Benjy.` 1. P. said, \e`ll be out in a
minute.`
A door opened and I could smell it more than eer,
and a head came out. It wasn`t lather. lather was sick there.
Can you take him out o the house.`
1hat`s where we going.` 1. P. said. Dilsey came up
the stairs.
Iush.` she said, Iush. 1ake him down home, 1. P.
lrony ixing him a bed. \ou all look ater him, now. Iush,
Benjy. Go on with 1. P.`
She went where we could hear Mother.
Better keep him there.` It wasn`t lather. Ie shut the
door, but I could still smell it.

Cristina NICOLAL
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\e went down stairs. 1he stairs went down into the
dark and 1. P. took my hand, and we went out the door, out
o the dark. Dan was sitting in the back yard, howling.
Ie smell it.` 1. P. said. Is that the way you ound it
out.`
\e went down the steps, where our shadows were.
I orgot your coat.` 1. P. said. Our shadows moed,
but Dan`s shadow didn`t moe except to howl when he did.
I cant take you down home, bellering like you is.` 1.
P. said. \ou was bad enough beore you got that bullrog
oice. Come on.`
\e went along the brick walk, with our shadows. 1he
pig pen smelled like pigs. 1he cow stood in the lot, chewing
at us. Dan howled.
\ou going to wake the whole town up.` 1. P. said.
Cant you hush.`
\e saw lancy, eating by the branch. 1he moon
shone on the water when we got there.
Naw, sir.` 1. P. said, 1his to close. \e cant stop
here. Come on. Now, just look at you. Got your whole leg
wet. Come on, here.` Dan howled.
1he ditch came up out o the buzzing grass. 1he
bones rounded out o the black ines.
Now.` 1. P. said. Beller your head o i you want
to. \ou got the whole night and a twenty acre pasture to
beller in.`
1. P. lay down in the ditch and I sat down, watching
the bones where the buzzards ate Nancy, lapping black and
slow and heay out o the ditch.


123

JOHN S1LINBLCK
,1902 - 1968,

John Steinbeck was born in Salinas, Caliornia in 1902
and attended Stanord Uniersity intermittently between 1920
and 1926. Ie did not graduate rom Stanord, but instead
chose to support himsel through manual labour while
writing. Iis experiences among the working classes in
Caliornia lent authenticity to his depiction o the lies o the
workers who are the central characters o his most important
noels. Steinbeck spent much o his lie in Monterey County,
which later was the setting o some o his iction.
Ater the best-selling success o 1be Crape. of !ratb,
Steinbeck went to Mexico to collect marine lie with the
reelance biologist Ldward l. Ricketts. During \orld \ar II,
he sered as a war correspondent, also writing goernment
propaganda pieces. Steinbeck receied the Nobel Prize or
literature in 1962, and died in New \ork City in 1968.
Steinbeck's irst noel, Cvp of Coa was published in
1929, and was ollowed three years later by 1be Pa.tvre. of
earev and, in 1933, 1o a Coa |vvorv. Ioweer, these irst
three noels were unsuccessul both critically and
commercially.
Steinbeck had his irst success with 1ortia at in
1935, a story o Mexican-Americans told with gentle humor.
Neertheless, his subsequent noel, v Dvbiov. atte ,1936,,
was marked by an unrelenting grimness. 1his noel is a
classic account o a strike by agricultural laborers and a pair

Cristina NICOLAL
124

o Marxist labour organizers who engineer it, and is the irst
Steinbeck noel to encompass the striking social commentary
o his most notable work.
Steinbeck was much acclaimed or the noella Of Mice
ava Mev ,193,, a tragic story about the strange, complex
bond between two migrant laborers. Iis crowning
achieement, 1be Crape. of !ratb, won Steinbeck a Pulitzer
Prize, a National Book Award and was also adapted into a
classic ilm directed by John lord. 1he noel describes the
migration o a dispossessed amily rom the Oklahoma Dust
Bowl to Caliornia and critiques their subsequent exploitation
by a ruthless system o agricultural economics.
Ie and the biologist Ldward l. Ricketts collaborated
in writing ea of Corte ,1941, - a study o the auna o the
Gul o Caliornia. During \orld \ar II, Steinbeck wrote
some eectie pieces o goernment propaganda, among
them 1be Moov . Dorv ,1942, - a noel about Norwegians
under the Nazis. \ith the end o the war and the moe rom
the Great Depression to economic prosperity, Steinbeck's
work sotened somewhat. \hile containing the elements o
social criticism that marked his earlier work, the three noels
Steinbeck published immediately ollowing the war, Cavver,
Ror ,1945,, 1be Pear and 1be v. ,both 194, were more
sentimental and relaxed in approach.
Steinbeck also contributed to seeral screenplays. Ie
wrote the original stories or seeral ilms, including ifeboat
,1944,, directed by Alred Iitchcock, and . Meaa for evv,,
and wrote the screenplay or Llia Kazan's 1ira Zapata! - a
biographical ilm about Lmiliano Zapata, the Mexican
peasant who rose to the presidency.


125

Steinbeck's later writings were comparatiely slight
works o entertainment and journalism, but he did make
conscientious attempts to reassert his stature as a major
noelist: vrvivg rigbt ,1950,, a.t of aev ,1952,, and 1be
!ivter of Ovr Di.covtevt ,1961,. None o these works equaled
the critical reputation o his earlier noels.
Steinbeck's reputation depends mostly on the
naturalistic noels with proletarian themes he wrote during
the Depression. It is in these works that Steinbeck is most
eectie in his building o rich symbolic structures and his
attempts at coneying the archetypal qualities o his
characters.

2. Of Mice ava Mev
2.1. Pot
1he title o the noel, Of Mice ava Mev, relates the
story to a poem by Robert Burns in which we are told that
1he best laid schemes o`mice and men,Gang at a-gley`.
1he experience o the mouse whose nest is brutally disrupted
by the ploughman is enlarged to man himsel, the story being
an illustration o human plight which does not dier rom the
plight o animals.
1he noel takes place during the Great Depression,
beside the Salinas Rier near Soledad, Caliornia, and is
centred on the strange bond between two migrant workers,
Lennie Small ,a mentally deicient yet docile man, and
George Milton ,a small man with deined eatures,. Lennie
likes to touch small animals as well as sot things, but
unortunately this pleasure o his is atal or those objects.
George is his protector, the person who tries to preent him
rom making atal mistakes but ails to do it in the end. 1he

Cristina NICOLAL
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two o them share a dream about haing a house o their own
with rabbits to be patted and animals to be ed. Ater haing
been sent away rom another arm because o Lennie, they
are employed at another arm here, in Soledad. At irst they
seem to integrate in the new community, and ind other
persons eager to join their dream. But one day Lennie repeats
the mistake he had made beore and kills the armer`s wie
while caressing her hair with too much aection and
intensity. Chased by eerybody or his crime, Lennie takes
reuge on the banks o the rier. George comes to this
preiously settled place o meeting in case something wrong
happens and, while telling him again about their dream, kills
him gently beore the chasers` arrial.

2.2. .va,.i.
Loneliness and riendship are two basic themes o this
vorea and they are tightly connected with the third one, that
o the American dream. Both themes are marked by a sense
o tragic and they also echo the cce.ia.te.` oice when it tells
the adantages o companionship`: I obsered yet another
example o meaninglessness in our world. 1his is the case o
a man who is all alone, without a child or a brother, yet who
works hard to gain as much wealth as he can`.
1he dichotomy loneliness,riendship enacts the
opposition between the real and the ideal. \hat Steinbeck
describes in Of Mice ava Mev is a world o loners - the
migrant workers going rom one place to another to work the
land, hae no place o their own and this eer-changing lie
seem to preent them rom making true riends. Slim, the
jerkline skinner at the ranch, tries to ind an explanation or
this generalised loneliness o the people he sees all around


127

eery day, Maybe eer`body in the whole damn world is
scared o each other.` Another reason or loneliness is
experienced by Crooks, only because he is a Negro he isn`t
allowed to play cards with the white workers or to lie in the
bunkhouse with them. Ie has a separate room and nobody to
talk to. Ie conesses to Lennie that, I I say something, why
it`s just a nigger saying it.`
Some o the workers on the ranch gie way to the
need o talking to strangers about their loneliness. One o
them, Candy, an old, crippled man, is the swamper at the
ranch and he proes himsel a rather passie man, irtually
unable to take any independent action. Ie has ound
riendship in keeping a dog he has raised since a puppy. But
the dog is old and stinks and Carlson decides to shoot it.
Candy does not resist and remains alone, thus enisaging his
own ate as a repetition o the dog`s. Ie is let only one
chance which he desperately takes: that o oering Lennie
and George money in order to go on a piece o land together,
thus sharing their dream o reedom, independence ,although
in this way Candy becomes dependent on the two, and sel-
reliance.
1he Negro worker, Crooks, who is the stable buck on
the ranch, is won oer by Lennie`s innocence and naiety and
tells him how important it is or a man to hae another guy to
talk to. A similar ision o riendship as a mixture o
conession and communication ,just the talking`, haunts
Curley`s wie: Ain`t I got a right to talk to nobody` she asks
Lennie when he deensiely tries to put an end to their
conersation or ear George should ind out and neer allow
him to tend rabbits`.
1he theme o riendship is incarnated by the ideal

Cristina NICOLAL
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relationship o George and Lennie. 1hey orm a whole, they
cannot exist one without the other, they complete each other.
\ith his small appearance, slender arms and restless eyes`,
George represents the mind, reasonable and practical, while
Lennie, huge, broad-shouldered, with large pale eyes`
represents the body, the instinctuality. 1heir lie can only be
lied together, with the mind guiding the body in its eery act.
1hey are necessary to one another because only together will
they gain the strength to oercome the hardships o lie. 1his
was so clearly expressed by the cce.ia.te. in the erses 1wo
can accomplish more than twice as much as one` or I one
person alls, the other can reach out and help.`
In this relationship, George is the one who cares or
Lennie, his childhood mentally disabled riend, and assumes a
dominant role, acting as an oertired and oerworked parent.
Because Lennie tends to inole George in diicult
situations, the latter must be responsible, leel-headed and
ready to deal with any tragedy that may arise. Despite the
problems that Lennie causes George, he stays with his
simple-minded riend as a buet against loneliness and he
retains a palpable hope that the two will eentually leae the
aimless lie o a migrant worker to lie a normal existence. In
turn, Lennie is simple and docile, obsessed with plain sensory
pleasures, particularly tactile ones. Ie inds great joy in
touching sot things, whether a cotton dress or a sot puppy.
Although Lennie is inherently innocent, he is still capable o
great iolence, because he lacks the capacity o controlling
himsel and has a great protectie instinct. Lennie is almost
entirely incapable o making decisions by himsel and
depends on George or action ,see lrench 195:8-90,.


129

1he unseen thread that keeps the two bound together
is strengthened by the dream they share: to earn enough
money to buy a small arm where Lennie, ixated on his
single obsession, can tend rabbits. Despite George`s doubts
,he admits to himsel, i I was alone, I could lie so easy`,
they could not possibly separate because that would destroy
their dream. \hat makes their dream alie is its re-telling
oer and oer again, with new details added eery time it is
repeated in order to make it more palpable and attainable.
1he arm on which they will cultiate alala then harest the
land exists only as long as it is talked about.
1his dream magnetically attracts Candy, who is willing
to share it when he remains alone ater his dog`s death.
Crooks himsel, although skeptical at the beginning because
he has witnessed countless men all under the same silly spell,
cannot help asking Lennie i he can hae a patch o garden
on their arm, too.
1he dream shared by all these people is a ersion o
the American dream: eeryone dreams o being one`s own
master, o not depending on anybody else, o haing the
reedom to decide upon one`s lie. Another ersion o it is
expressed by Curley`s wie who hoped to become a moie
star at Iollywood beore marrying Curley. In act, her
marriage shows her resignation at being robbed o her dream.
\hat these dreams hae in common is the idea o ree wish,
sel-reliance and contentment, and, tragically, their
impossibility to eer come true. Lennie`s death destroys
eerything thus proing that such paradise is not to be ound
in this world. 1he Biblical theme o the lost paradise and o
its continual search lies at the basis o this theme ,see Dais
192:63-69,.

Cristina NICOLAL
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1hese lonely workers` doom apparently extends upon
the only true riendship to be ound in the book. It is to be
noticed that, despite their wish to ind an ideal riendship, to
be part o a brotherhood, these loners hae a pererse
tendency to destroy whateer signs o it they ind around.
Lersince they reach the arm and ask to be hired, George
and Lennie`s traelling together is regarded with much doubt.
1he boss admits, I neer saw one guy take so much trouble
or another guy` and immediately inds an explanation that
its his pattern o thinking, I just like to know what your
interest is.` Slim, who seems more understanding o human
nature, shows the same surprise. Ain`t many guys trael
around together`, but his explanation belongs to a more
analytical mind, keeping to psychology: it seems that people
are scared o each other. 1he loneliest worker, Crooks,
isolated by the dierent colour o his skin, reacts the most
cruelly. \hen Lennie shares him his dream, Crooks takes
pleasure in torturing him. Ie criticizes his dream as well as
his dependence on George. Moreoer, he almost reduces
Lennie to tears when suggesting him to imagine that
something bad happened to George. 1his negatie reaction to
the palpable signs o a dream they all hae makes those
people seem stronger and the idea Steinbeck points out here
is that the most isible type o strength, the one that is used
to oppress others, is born in act o weakness.
linally this world proes too harsh to sustain an ideal,
brotherly relationship. Lennie and George, who come close
to achieing this ideal, are orced to separate tragically. 1he
two crimes in the end are presented in such a way as to seem
innocent. Gien the oer-sentimentalized tone o the noel,
the reader`s attention is distracted rom the usual immoral


131

interpretations o a crime. Lennie`s extenuating circumstances
would be his lack o judgement, while George`s punishment
would be commuted i the deence insisted on his careul,
almost initiating ritual o gently sticking the gun to his
ictim`s head while bewitching him with the magic dream
they used to share. By ignoring to endow the two acts o
iolence with any immoral quality, Steinbeck bends towards
more pagan interpretations according to which Lennie would
become the animal sacriiced on the altar o a cruel God, as
cruel as the one we may ind in the Old 1estament. In act,
these two acts are regarded as amoral because the magic o
that dream, o the brotherhood o men that they all imagine
as perect, seems een to exclude the idea o a God they
should thank or i they should, by any chance, see it come
true in the end.
1he conclusion o the book is that eerything is in
ain and the good things in lie are not intended to last. \e
can only catch a glimpse o them and eentually they ade
away. 1he need or communication, or mutual conessing,
or sharing common dreams is a condition or man to surie
but, paradoxically, true riendship may demand immoral acts.

Irom Of Mice and Men

A ew miles south o Soledad, the Salinas Rier drops
in close to the hill-side bank and runs deep and green. 1he
water is warm too, or it has slipped twinkling oer the yellow
sand, in the sunlight beore reaching the narrow pool. On
one side o the rier the golden oothill slopes cure up to the
strong and rocky Gabilan mountains, but on the alley side

Cristina NICOLAL
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the water is lined with trees - willows resh and green with
eery spring, carrying in their lower lea junctures the debris
o the winter's looding, and sycamores with mottled, white,
recumbent limbs and branches that arch oer the pool. On
the sandy bank under the trees the leaes lie deep and so crisp
that a lizard makes a great skittering i he runs among them.
Rabbits come out o the brush to sit on the sand in the
eening, and the damp lats are coered with the night tracks
o 'coons, and with the spread pads o dogs rom the ranches,
and with the split-wedge tracks o deer that come to drink in
the dark.
1here is a path through the willows and among the
sycamores, a path beaten hard by boys coming down rom
the ranches to swim in the deep pool, and beaten hard by
tramps who come wearily down rom the highway in the
eening to jungle up near water. In ront o the low
horizontal limb o a giant sycamore there is an ash-pile made
by many ires, the limb is worn smooth by men who hae sat
on it.
Lening o a hot day started the little wind to moing
among the leaes. 1he shade climbed up the hills toward the
top. On the sand-banks the rabbits sat as quietly as little grey,
sculptured stones. And then rom the direction o the state
highway came the sound o ootsteps on crisp sycamore
leaes. 1he rabbits hurried noiselessly or coer. A stilted
heron laboured up into the air and pounded down rier. lor
a moment the place was lieless, and then two men emerged
rom the path and came into the opening by the green pool.
1hey had walked in single ile down the path, and een in the
open one stayed behind the other. Both were dressed in
denim trousers, and in denim coats with brass buttons. Both


133

wore black, shapeless hats and both carried tight blanket rolls
slung oer their shoulders. 1he irst man was small and quick,
dark o ace, with restless eyes and sharp, strong eatures.
Lery part o him was deined: small, strong hands, slender
arms, a thin and bony nose. Behind him walked his opposite,
a huge man, shapeless o ace, with large, pale eyes, with wide,
sloping shoulders, and he walked heaily, dragging his eet a
little, the way a bear drags his paws. Iis arms did not swing at
his sides, but hung loosely and only moed because the heay
hands were pendula. |.[
1he little eening breeze blew oer the clearing and
the leaes rustled and the wind waes lowed up the green
pool. And the shouts o men sounded again, this time much
closer than beore.
George took o his hat. Ie said shakily: '1ake o you
hat, Lennie. 1he air eels ine.'
Lennie remoed his hat dutiully and laid it on the
ground in ront o him. 1he shadow in the alley was bluer,
and the eening came ast. On the wind the sound o
crashing in the brush came to them.
Lennie said: '1ell how it's gonna be.'
George had been listening to the distant sounds. lor a
moment was business-like. 'Look acrost the rier, Lennie, an`
I'll tell you so you can almost see it.'
Lennie turned his head and looked o across the pool
and up the darkening slopes o the Gabilans. '\e gonna get a
little place,' George began. Ie reached in his side pocket and
brought out Carbon's Luger, he snapped o the saety, and
the hand and gun lay on the ground behind Lennie`s back. Ie
looked at the back o Lennie`s head, at the place where the
spine and skull were joined.

Cristina NICOLAL
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A man's oice called rom up the rier, and another
man answered.
'Go on,' said Lennie.
George raised the gun and his hand shook, and he
dropped his hand to the ground again,
'Go on,' said Lennie. 'Iow's it gonna be. \e gonna
get a little place.'
'\e'll hae a cow,' said George, 'An' we'll hae maybe
a pig an' chickens... an' down the lat we`ll hae a... little piece
alala . . .,
'lor the rabbits,' Lennie shouted.
'lor the rabbits,' George repeated.
'And I get to tend the rabbits.'
'An' you get to tend the rabbits.'
Lennie giggled with happiness. 'An' lie on the atta
the lan'.'
'\es.'
Lennie turned his head.
'No, Lennie. Look down there acrost the rier, like
you can almost see the place.'
Lennie obeyed him. George looked down at the gun.
1here were crashing ootsteps in the brush now.
George turned and looked toward them.
'Go on, George. \hen we gonna do it'
'Gonna do it soon.'
'Me an' you.'
'\ou ... an` me. Ler`body gonna be nice to you. Ain`t
gonna be no more trouble. Nobody gonna hurt nobody nor
steal rom em.'
Lennie said: 'I thought you was mad at me, George.'
'No,' said George. 'No, Lennie. I ain't mad. I neer


135

been mad, an' I ain't now. 1hat's a thing I want ya to know!`
1he oices came close now. George raised the gun
and listened to the oices.
Lennie begged: 'Le`s do it now. Le's get that place
now!
'Sure, right now. I gotta. \e gotta.'
And George raised the gun and steadied it, and he
brought the muzzle o it close to the back o Lennie`s head.
1he hand shook iolently, but his ace set and his hand
steadied. Ie pulled the trigger. 1he crash o the shot rolled
up the hills and rolled down again. Lennie jarred, and then
settled slowly orward to the sand, and he lay without
quiering.
George shiered and looked at the gun, and then he
threw it rom him, back up on the bank, near the pile o old
ashes.
1he brush seemed illed with cries and with the sound
o running eet. Slim's oice shouted: 'George. \here you at,
George,
But George sat stily on the bank and looked at his
right hand that had thrown the gun away. 1he group burst
into the clearing, and Curley was ahead. Ie saw Lennie lying
on the sand. 'Got him, by God.' Ie went oer and looked
down at Lennie, and then he looked back at George. 'Right in
the back o the head,' he said sotly.
Slim came directly to George and sat down beside him,
sat ery close to him. 'Neer you mind,' said Slim. 'A guy got
to sometimes.'
But Carlson was standing oer George. 'Iow`d you do
it` he asked.
'I just done it,' George said tiredly.

Cristina NICOLAL
136

'Did he hae my gun`
'\eah. Ie had your gun.'
'An' you got it away rom him and you took it an` you
killed him'
'\eah. 1ha's how.' George`s oice was almost a
whisper. Ie looked steadily at his right hand that had held
the gun.
Slim twitched George's elbow. 'Come on, George. Me
an' you`ll go in an' get a drink.'
George let himsel be helped to his eet. \ah, a drink.'
Slim said: \ou hadda, George. I swear you hadda.
Come on with me.' Ie led George into the entrance o the
trail and up toward the highway.
Curley and Carlson looked ater them. And Carlson
said:
'Now what the hell ya suppose is eatin' them two
guys'


137

JLROML D SALINGLR
,1919-,

Born in New \ork City in 1919, Jerome Daid
Salinger is the son o a Jewish ather and a Christian mother.
Ater brie periods o attending both N\U and Columbia
Uniersity, Salinger deoted himsel to writing, and by 1940
he had published seeral short stories in periodicals. Ater
returning rom serice in the U. S. Army in 1946, or \orld
\ar II, Salinger continued his writing career or 1he New
\orker` magazine. Some o his most notable stories include
his irst story or 1he New \orker` entitled . Perfect Da, for
avavafi.b ,1948, - the tale o the suicide o a despairing war
eteran and or .ve - ritb ore ava qvaor ,1950, - which
describes a U.S. soldier's encounter with two British children.
Between 1940 and 1948, Salinger published thirty-ie short
stories in arious publications, including the Saturday
Lening Post`, Story`, and Colliers` and, rom 1948 until
1965, 1he New \orker`.
In 1951 he published his masterpiece, 1be Catcber iv tbe
R,e, ollowed by îve torie. ,1953, - a selection o his best
literary work, and ravv, ava Zooe, ,1961, - which draws
rom two earlier stories in 1he New \orker`. In 1963 he
published seeral o his short stories as a noel, Rai.e tbe igb
Roof eav, Carpevter. ava e,vovr: .v vtroavctiov. Iis relatiely
small literary output as well as his reclusie habits since that
time hae made Salinger the subject o a great deal o
notoriety.

Cristina NICOLAL
138

Since 1953, Salinger has resided in Cornish, New
Iampshire, and claims that he continues to write in his
reclusion. Ie reuses to gie interiews or to deal with the
press, thereore personal inormation about him is limited.

2.1be Catcber iv tbe R,e
2.1. Pot
Iis major critical and popular recognition was
receied or 1be Catcber iv tbe R,e ,1951,, the story o Iolden
Caulield, a rebellious boarding school student who attempts
to run away rom the adult world that he inds phony.`
Salinger's only noel drew rom characters he had already
created in two short stories published in 1945 and 1946, 1bi.
avaricb a. ô Ma,ovvai.e and v Cra,. 1he latter story is
an alternate take on seeral o the chapters in 1be Catcber iv tbe
R,e.
1he noel has an episodic structure. Iolden Caulield
runs o rom Penny Prep in Pennsylania and starts out on
the terrible journey to his house in New \ork, where he must
ace his parents ater his latest expulsions. Along his journey,
Iolden has a series o encounters either with people he
knows ,ex-school mates or school riends, an old girl riend,
ormer teachers, or with people whom he has neer met
beore ,a stripper, two nuns, a prostitute,. All these people
cause arious reactions in Iolden. On the train, he meets the
mother o one o his classmates and lies to reassure her o
her illusions about her sensitie` son. 1he girl who isits
him in the hotel room makes him eel depressed. Iis old
school riends, Sally Iayes and Carl Luce, are unable to
understand his wish to run away and all he can do is quarrel
with them. Iis ormer Lnglish teacher, Mr Antolini, rightens


139

him when Iolden awakes to ind him patting him perersely
on his head. 1he only pleasant experience he has is the
conersation with two nuns whom he gies, on a sudden
impulse, a charitable donation.
1he person who makes Iolden eel relaxed and
cheerul is his sister Phoebe. She is the one who challenges
him to name something he likes, thus making him realize he
wants to be a catcher in the rye`, to keep the kids rom alling
oer some crazy cli`. Phoebe instinctiely understands that
Iolden is unhappy and is determined to run away with him.
1hey meet near the Metropolitan Museum, isit the Zoo then
go to the carousel. As she rides round and on the carousel,
Iolden makes up his mind to go home, to quit running. And
in the middle o the drenching rain, as he watches Phoebe go
around in her endless circle on the carousel, he begins to eel
so damn happy, i you want to know the truth, I don`t know
why. It was just that she looked so damn vice, the way she
kept going round and round, in her blue coat and all .`
In a brie epilogue ,Chapter 26,, Iolden gies a
summary account o the end o his week-end as a runaway.
Ie goes back to his parents and is sent to a psychiatric
hospital where he is recoering rom an illness, probably a
mental breakdown.

2.2. .va,.i.
1be Catcber iv tbe R,e can be included into the ancient
tradition o the quest. 1he theme o quest and initiation is
treated at large in Grunwald ,1962: 195-21,, placing Iolden
in the same series o heroes with Stephen Dedalus and
Iuckleberry linn. Iolden`s quest is o dierent kinds, being
irst o all a quest to presere an innocence that is in danger

Cristina NICOLAL
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o perishing - the innocence o childhood. Another quest
ocuses towards the spotless innocence o a sel that is
horriied at being contaminated in its ordinary inolements
o lie. Iolden is also in search o and ideal and o
communication.
As compared to Iuck linn and Quentin Compson,
Iolden is engaged in two types o quests at once: he needs to
go home and he also needs to leae it. Iolden seeks Virtue
second to Loe, he wants to be good, being drien towards
loe o his ellows, towards charity. Iis adentures are the
stages o his initiation into manhood, but Iolden is actually
rightened by a rontier code o masculinity. Like other
American heroes, Iolden is a wanderer, because to be good
he has to be a bad boy irst.
Salinger transposes the old tradition o quest and
initiation into contemporary terms. 1he phoniness` o
society orces Iolden Caulield to leae it, but he is seeking
nothing but stability and loe. Iolden`s quest takes him
outside society, yet the Ioly Grail he seeks is the world and is
ull o loe. 1o be a catcher in the rye` in this world can only
be achieed at the price o leaing it. Iolden`s journey is
more than a moement through space - it is a moement,
also, rom innocence to knowledge, rom sel-ignorance to
sel-awareness, rom isolation to inolement.
1he language used by Iolden Caulield, the sixteen
year-old narrator o the book, renders the inormal speech o
an intelligent, educated Northeastern American adolescent
,according to Donald Costello in .vericav peecb, October
1959,. On the other hand, his repetitie and poor ocabulary
reeals a typical adolescent whose mental and moral
eolution is at the beginning. 1hree major habits can be


141

distinguished in Iolden`s speech which make it both typical
and indiidual. 1he irst one, and all` ,meaning or
something`, or anything`, has no real linguistic unction but
makes the expression and thought seem loose. 1hese words
oten signiy that Iolden knows there is more that could be
said about the issue but he is not going to bother going into
it. A second speech habit is represented by the sentence I
really did it, it really was` ,meaning I really mean it, it really
does`, and it shows that Iolden, liing in a phony world,
eels compelled to reinorce his sincerity and truthulness,
being at the same time araid not to slip into phoniness
himsel. 1he third speech habit, i you want to know the
truth` reeals Iolden`s skepticism. 1hese three phrases
become part o Iolden himsel ,see Perez 1981:25-26,.
Another problem related to Iolden`s language is that
o ulgarity and obscenity, treated at large by Lundquist
,199:3-68,. 1he typical inormal schoolboy ernacular is
typically ulgar, but Iolden`s sensitiity preents him rom
using the most strongly orbidden terms. Moreoer, he neer
uses ulgarity in a phony way, that is to help him be one o
the boys`. 1he ulgar words he uses include goddam` ,to
express an emotional eeling toward an object e.g. goddam
hunting`,, or Chrissake` ,in strong emotional situations,,
hell`, bastard`.
Belonging to the post-war generation o American
authors, Salinger presents a typical American hero who is
both a rebel and a ictim, an actor and a suerer. 1he ailure
o reconciling the indiidual with the society - the uniying
assumption o post-war iction - permeates Salinger`s prose
which is still subject o iid critical debates.

Cristina NICOLAL
142

from Ior Lsme with Love and Squalor

\hile I was still on my irst cup o tea, the young lady
I had been watching and listening to in the choir came into
the tearoom. Ier hair was soaking wet, and the rims o both
ears were showing. She was with a ery small boy,
unmistakably her brother, whose cap she remoed by liting it
o his head with two ingers, as i it were a laboratory
specimen. Bringing up the rear was an eicient-looking
woman in a limp elt hat - presumably their goerness. 1he
choir member, taking o her coat as she walked across the
loor, made the table selection - a good one, rom my point
o iew, as it was just eight or ten eet directly in ront o me.
She and the goerness sat down. 1he small boy, who was
about ie, wasn't ready to sit down yet. Ie slid out o and
discarded his reeer, then, with the deadpan expression o a
born heller, he methodically went about annoying his
goerness by pushing in and pulling out his chair seeral
times, watching her ace. 1he goerness, keeping her oice
down, gae him two or three orders to sit down and, in eect,
stop the monkey business, but it was only when his sister
spoke to him that he came around and applied the small o
his back to his chair seat. Ie immediately picked up his
napkin and put it on his head. Iis sister remoed it, opened it,
and spread it out on his lap.
About the time their tea was brought, the choir
member caught me staring oer at her party. She stared back
at me, with those house-counting eyes o hers, then, abruptly,
gae me a small, qualiied smile. It was oddly radiant, as
certain small, qualiied smiles sometimes are. I smiled back,
much less radiantly, keeping my upper lip down oer a coal-


143

black G.I. temporary illing showing between two o my ront
teeth. 1he next thing I knew, the young lady was standing,
with eniable poise, beside my table. She was wearing a tartan
dress - a Campbell tartan, I beliee. It seemed to me to be a
wonderul dress or a ery young girl to be wearing on a rainy,
rainy day. I thought Americans despised tea,` she said.
It wasn't the obseration o a smart aleck but that o a
truth-loer or a statistics-loer. I replied that some o us
neer drank anything but tea. I asked her i she'd care to join
me.
1hank you,` she said. Perhaps or just a raction o
a moment.`
I got up and drew a chair or her, the one opposite me,
and she sat down on the orward quarter o it, keeping her
spine easily and beautiully straight. I went back - almost
hurried back - to my own chair, more than willing to hold
up my end o a conersation. \hen I was seated, I couldn't
think o anything to say, though. I smiled again, still keeping
my coal-black illing under concealment. I remarked that it
was certainly a terrible day out.
\es, quite,` said my guest, in the clear, unmistakable
oice o a small-talk detester. She placed her ingers lat on
the table edge, like someone at a seance, then, almost
instantly, closed her hands - her nails were bitten down to
the quick. She was wearing a wristwatch, a military-looking
one that looked rather like a naigator's chronograph. Its ace
was much too large or her slender wrist. \ou were at choir
practice,` she said matter-o-actly. I saw you.`
I said I certainly had been, and that I had heard her
oice singing separately rom the others. I said I thought she
had a ery ine oice.

Cristina NICOLAL
144

She nodded. I know. I'm going to be a proessional
singer.`
Really Opera`
Ieaens, no. I'm going to sing jazz on the radio and
make heaps o money. 1hen, when I'm thirty, I shall retire
and lie on a ranch in Ohio.` She touched the top o her
soaking-wet head with the lat o her hand. Do you know
Ohio` she asked.
I said I'd been through it on the train a ew times but
that I didn't really know it. I oered her a piece o cinnamon
toast.
No, thank you,` she said. I eat like a bird, actually.`
I bit into a piece o toast mysel, and commented that there's
some mighty rough country around Ohio. I know. An
American I met told me. \ou're the eleenth American I'e
met.`
Ier goerness was now urgently signalling her to
return to her own table - in eect, to stop bothering the man.
My guest, howeer, calmly moed her chair an inch or two so
that her back broke all possible urther communication with
the home table. \ou go to that secret Intelligence school on
the hill, don't you` she inquired coolly.
As security-minded as the next one, I replied that I
was isiting Deonshire or my health.
Really,` she said, I wasn't quite bom yesterday, you
know.`
I said I'd bet she hadn't been, at that. I drank my tea
or a moment. I was getting a trile posture - conscious and I
sat up somewhat straighter in my seat.
\ou seem quite intelligent or an American,` my
guest mused.


145

I told her that was a pretty snobbish thing to say, i
you thought about it at all, and that I hoped it was unworthy
o her.
She blushed - automatically conerring on me the
social poise I'd been missing. \ell. Most o the Americans
I'e seen act like animals. 1hey're oreer punching one
another about, and insulting eeryone, and -\ou know what
one o them did`
I shook my head.
One o them threw an empty whiskey bottle through
my aunt's window. lortunately, the window was open. But
does that sound ery intelligent to you`
It didn't especially, but I didn't say so. I said that many
soldiers, all oer the world, were a long way rom home, and
that ew o them had had many real adantages in lie. I said
I'd thought that most people could igure that out or
themseles.
Possibly,` said my guest, without coniction. She
raised her hand to her wet head again, picked at a ew limp
ilaments o blond hair, trying to coer her exposed ear rims.
My hair is soaking wet,` she said. I look a right.` She
looked oer at me. I hae quite way hair when it's dry.`
I can see that, I can see you hae.`
Not actually curly, but quite way,` she said. Are
you married`
I said I was.
She nodded. Are you ery deeply in loe with your
wie Or am I being too personal`
I said that when she was, I'd speak up.
She put her hands and wrists arther orward on the
table, and I remember wanting to do something about that

Cristina NICOLAL
146

enormous-aced wristwatch she was wearing - perhaps
suggest that she try wearing it around her waist.
Usually, I'm not terribly gregarious,` she said, and
looked oer at me to see i I knew the meaning o the word. I
didn't gie her a sign, though, one way or the other. I purely
came oer because I thought you looked extremely lonely.
\ou hae an extremely sensitie ace.`
I said she was right, that I had been eeling lonely, and
that I was ery glad she'd come oer.
I'm training mysel to be more compassionate. My
aunt says I'm a terribly cold person,` she said and elt the top
o her head again. I lie with my aunt. She's an extremely
kind person. Since the death o my mother, she's done
eerything within her power to make Charles and me eel
adjusted.`
I'm glad.`
Mother was an extremely intelligent person. Quite
sensuous, in many ways.` She looked at me with a kind o
resh acuteness. Do you ind me terribly cold`
I told her absolutely not -ery much to the contrary, in
act. I told her my name and asked or hers. She hesitated.
My irst name is Lsme. I don't think I shall tell you my ull
name, or the moment. I hae a title and you may just be
impressed by titles. Americans are, you know.`
I said I didn't think I would be, but that it might be a
good idea, at that, to hold on to the title or a while.


147

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