i ^ p

f f i b A

I
Writing and art from transition m agazine 1927-1930
CONTRIBUTIONS BY

SAMUEL BECKETT
PAUL BOWLES
KAY BOYLE
GEORGES BRAQUE
ALEXANDER CALDER
HART CRANE
G IO RG IO DE CHIRICO
ANDRE GIDE
ROBERT GRAVES
ERNEST HEMINGWAY
JAMES JOYCE
C.G. JUNG
FRANZ KAFKA
PAUL KLEE
ARCHIBALD MACLEISH
MAN RAY
JOAN MIRO
PABLO PICASSO
KATHERINE ANNE PORTER
RAINER MARIA RILKE
DIEGO RIVERA
GERTRUDE STEIN
TRISTAN TZARA
WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS
AND OTHERS
■ m i , . «
f " li jf IT ) r> ’ jvjffjiStl ‘■vv
■ H H Iir ■n r ¥ \I ififl
 $ 14.95

$388

i n t r a n s it io n :
A Paris Anthology
 I K

i\ Paris
transition An
Anthology
transition: A
Paris Anthology
WRITING AND ART FROM tran sitio n MAGAZINE 1927-30

With an Introduction by Noel Riley Fitch

Contributions by
Sa m u el BECKETT, P aul BOWLES, Kay BOYLE,
G eorges BRAQUE, A lexander CALDER,
H art CRANE, G iorgio DE CHIRICO, A ndre GIDE,
R ob ert GRAVES, E rn est HEMINGWAY,
J a m es JOYCE, C. G. JUNG, F ran z KAFKA,
P aul KLEE, A rchibald M acLEISH, MAN RAY,
J o a n MIRO, P ablo PICASSO,
K atherine A nne PORTER, R ainer M aria RILKE,
D iego RIVERA, G ertrude STEIN, T r ista n TZARA,
W illiam Carlos WILLIAMS
and others

Anchor B ooks
DOUBLEDAY
NEW YO RK LONDON TORONTO SY D N E Y AUCKLAND
 An An c h o r B o o k

PUBLISHED BY DOUBLEDAY
a d iv is io n o f B a n ta m D o u b le d a y Dell P u b lis h in g G ro u p , Inc.
6 6 6 F ifth A v en u e, N ew Y ork, N.Y. 10103

An ch o r B o o k s, D o ubleday,a n d th e portrayal of an anchor

are trad em ark s of Doubleday, a division of
B antam Doubleday Dell Publishing G roup, Inc.

a l l r i g h t s r e s e r v e d . A dditional copyright inform ation

appears in th e Acknowledgm ents section, w hich co n stitu tes a
co n tin u atio n of th is notice.

T his book was created by

4 D oughty S treet
London WC1N 2PH
England

Library o f Congress C ataloging-in-Publication D ata

In Transition: a Paris anthology / w ith
an introduction by Noel Riley F itch.— 1st ed.
p. cm.
1. Literature. M odern— 2 0 th century.
I. Transition (1927)
PN6012.I46 1990 89-77184
8 2 0 .8 '0 0 9 1 2 —dc20 CIP

i s b n : 0-385-41161-8
Copyright © 1990 by Phillips & Com pany Books, Inc.

Typesetting by SX Com posing Ltd, Rayleigh, Essex, E ngland

Halftone origination by Fotographics Ltd, London/Hong Kong
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
October, 1990
FIRST ANCHOR BOOKS EDITION
 tah IjE o r (o v n :\n s
[f ] Fiction; [p ] Poetry; [n f ] Nonfiction

INTRODUCTION, by Noel Riley Fitch 11

A PARIS ANTHOLOGY 17
Notes on the Text 18

PROCLAMATION [ n f ] 19
The EDITORS : Introduction to Issue No. 1 [ n f ] 20
: Suggestions for a New Magic [ n f ] 23
Berenice ABBOTT : Poem [ p ] 25
: P ortrait of Ja m e s Joyce [p h o t o g r a p h ] 26
Richard ALDINGTON : Stairway of Pain [P] 27
Hans ARP : The Light-Shunning Paradise (Fragment) [p] 28
:Arping 29
Eugene ATGET : Shopfront [ p h o t o g r a p h ], w i t h an
Essay by B. J. Kospoth 30
Djuna BARNES : Rape and Repining [ f ] 34
Ham ilton BASSO : New O rleans Letter [n f ] 40
Sam uel BECKETT : Malacoda [ p] 43
:E n u eg II[p ] 44
: D ortm under [p] 45
Paul BOWLES : Entity [ f ] 46
: Delicate Song [p] 47
Kay BOYLE : Vacation-Time [ f ] 48
On the Run [ f ] 49
: L etter to Archibald Craig [ p] 52
: The United States
(for William Carlos Williams) [p] 54
C onstantin BRANCUSI : Photo of His Studio [photograph] 56
Georges BRAQUE : Nature Morte [ p a i n t i n g ] 57
: Nature Morte [ p a in t in g a n d collage] 58
Bob BROWN : The Readies [ n f ] 59
BRYHER : T hree Poem s 66
Alexander CALDER : Wire Sculpture 68
Erskine CALDWELL : Ju ly [ f ] 69

— 5 —
Em anuel CARNEVALI : Alm ost a Fable [ f ] 72
Malcolm COWLEY : Seven O’Clock [p] 74
: The C hestnut Trees are Dead [p] 75
: Race Between a Subway Local and the
Subway Express [ f ] 76
Archibald CRAIG : Sum m er Time [p] 79
Hart CRANE : M oment Fugue [p] 80
: The Harbor Dawn [p] 81
: Poem 82
Caresse CROSBY : The Stranger [p] 83
Harry CROSBY : A pparition [ p h o t o g r a p h ] 88
: The New Word [ n f ] 89
: Suite [ f ] 90
S tuart DAVIS : Gasoline Pump [w a t e r c o l o r ] 95
Giorgio DE CHIRICO : Painting 96
R obert DESNOS : The Dove of the Ark [p] 97
Midnight at Two O’Clock [ s i l e n t f il m s c e n a r i o ] 98
Paul ELUARD : A Dream 103
: In Company (Surrealist Text) 103
: Georges Braque [ p ] 104
Max ERNST Mer et Oiseau [f r o ttage ] 105
Serge ESSENIN : Poem 106
Andre GIDE : Roundelay of the Pom egranate [p] 107
: Food of the E arth [ f ] 111
Claire and Ivan GOLL : Poem s 113
: Poem s 115
R obert GRAVES : O Jo rro ck s, I Have Prom ised [p] 116
J u a n GRIS : Painting (from the Collection of
Miss Gertrude Stein) 118
: Still Life [ p a i n t i n g ] 119
Georg GROSS : The Little Agitator [p a i n t i n g ] 120
H.D. : Gift [p] 121
: Psyche [p] 123
E rnest HEMINGWAY : Hills Like White E lephants [f ] 125
E rnest HEMINGWAY IN FLORIDA (loaned by Sylvia Beach)
[p h o to g ra ph ] 127
Theodore D. IRWIN (New York World) : Slanguage: 19.29 [ n f ] 130
Eugene JOLAS : Acrobats [p] 133
: Express [p] 134
Jam es JOYCE : Work in Progress [Finnegans Wake] 135
: From “Anna Livia Plurabelle” 136
: T ranslation into Basic English 137

— 6 —
C.G. JUNG : Psychology and Poetry [n f ] 141
Franz KAFKA : The Sentence [f ] 143
Paul KLEE : Fish-Man Man-Eater [d r a w in g ] 151
Alfred KREYMBORG : From M a n h a tta n A nthology [p] 152
Fernand LEGER : C om position [painting] 153
Louis LOZOWICK : M achine O rnam ent [d e s i g n ] 154
Robert McALMON : E xtract from a Novel [f ] 155
Archibald MacLEISH : Signature Anonyme [p ] 160
: Poem Dedicated to the A dvancement
of Aviation . . . 161
: T ourist Death (for Sylvia Beach) [p] 162
MAN RAY : Photographic Study 163
Andre MASSON : La R encontre [pastel ] 164
J o a n MIRO : Painting 165
L, MOHOLY-NAGY : Jealo u sy [photomontage] 166
Francis PICABIA : Painting 167
Elliot PAUL : The Work of Pablo Picasso [n f ] 168
Pablo PICASSO : Charcoal Drawing (1906) 170
: P astel (1921) 171
Katherine Anne PORTER : Magic [f ] 173
Alfonso REYES : Tropics [p] 176
Laura RIDING : Sea-G host [p ] 180
: And This is Loveliness [p] 181
: In a Cafe [f ] 182
Rainer Maria RILKE : A utum n Day [p ] 184
: Rem em brance [p ] 185
: P resen tim en t [p] 186
Diego RIVERA : Mural 187
Theo RUTRA : Faula and Fiona 188
: Andre M asson 188
Philippe SOUPAULT : Poem 189
K urt SCHWITTERS : W orkm an’s Picture [collage] 190
G ertrude STEIN : D escriptions of L iterature [n f ] 191
: The Life of J u a n Gris
The Life and Death of Ju a n Gris [n f ] 194
Jo sep h STELLA : The Brooklyn Bridge (A Page of My Life) [n f ] 196
: Brooklyn Bridge [painting] 197
Lorincz SZABO : A Q uarter of an Hour Between God and
the Office [p] 200
Genevieve TAGGARD : L etter from Greenwich Village [n f ] 202

— 7 —
Yves TANGUY : Landscape [ p a in t in g ] 205
Georg TRAKL : Rosary Songs [ p ] 206
Tristan TZARA : Toto Vaga [p ] 207
I.M. VEISSENBERG : Mazel-Tof [ f ] 208
Edward WESTON : “Fragm ent” [ p h o t o g r a p h ] 211
: “Pepper” [ p h o t o g r a p h ] 212
William Carlos WILLIAMS : Im provisations [f ] 213
Louis ZUKOFSKY : Poem 216

SPECIAL SECTIONS :
WHY DO AMERICANS LIVE IN EUROPE? [ 1928] 217
R esponses from G ertrude Stein 218
Hilaire Hiler 218
Robert McAlmon 219
George Antheil 220
Kay Boyle 221
Berenice Abbott 223
Harry Crosby 223
Kathleen Cannell 225
H. Wolf Kaufman 226
IN MEMORIAM : HARRY CROSBY [1930] 228
Kay Boyle : Homage to Harry Crosby 229
Hart Crane : To the Cloud Juggler [p] 231
S tuart G ilb e rt: Harry Crosby —A Personal Note 232
Eugene Jo las : Harry Crosby and transition 235
Archibald MacLeish : Cinema of a Man [p] 237
Philippe S o u p a u lt: Harry Crosby 239
Harry Crosby : SLEEPING TOGETHER 240
FAREWELL TO transition [ 1930] 245
Eugene Jo la s : A nnouncem ent 245
Robert Sage : Farewell to transition
(A Letter to Eugene Jo las from Robert Sage) 246
Philippe S o u p a u lt: transition and France 251

The EDITORS : The P u rsu it of Happiness 252

EPILOGUE : The End of Europe, by Harry Crosby 253
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 254

— 8 —
 d e d ic a t io n :
To Kay Boyle -
and to Jerom e Gold

Read about us and marvel!

You did not live in our time - be sorry!
— Ilya E h renburg

— 9 —
 A v |U
■f
/r
( ifl i oL L z J M m ,

•|y >>c 26lling hair and for would be j(^ybells to ring sadly ringless hands.
ArCJ ^ y- The dame dowager to stay kneeled how she is as lirst mutherer
\w ith cord in coil. The two princes of the tower royal, daulphin anet
fieylin, to lie how they are without to see. The date dowager’s doif-
gerent to present wappon and about wheel without to be seen of
them. The infant^ Isabella from her coign to do obeisefoce/toward
the duilgerent as first futherer with drawn brand. Then the court
to corae\i.n.to full morning. Herein see ye fail not I
/_ — Viduj-jforkeg^j/l Ili vi rigardasj Relurnu, H '
j ^ 1-Iummels 1 That crag I Those hullocks ^VVhat hatfe you there­
fore ? I fear iest ^ye have lost ours respecting these wildy parts.
How shagsome all and beastful! What do you show on ? 1 show
because I must see before my misfortune so a -stark pointing !4-
pole^/Can V you read ttye verst legend hereon ‘?-/To the dunleary
obeljsk via rhe rock what myles knoW furlongs; to the general’s
? ; / postj/office howsands of patience^ to tne Wellington memorial half
j/ “ a! a league wrongwards / to a’ai'a’s bridge good hunter and nine to
meet her / to the point, one yecfrnan’s yard. He, he, he ! At that do
you leer 7 I leer because I must See a buntingcap of so a pinky on
the point. It is for a true glover’s greetings and many burgesses by
us uses to pink it in this way^.jDo younot have heard thalAhe queen
; / J r 'ig -tbro^d/her kingshall come tomotrow, mich.^mas? He shall >/+
li- come by jubilarian wi^h — who can don^t it ? — Wfis golden bea­
dles and
y ,-- - «*•»» his/ white elkox terriers
n i u w OHWJ1 for aa uhunting
W111C13 1U1 on'our
w u u g u littlego
u - u u i ui-ia^ ill-
gu u it /
_____ llj2 J come faxesAneynhir Mayour, our boorgomai^ter, In best bib and A y
ij Ttucker, surrounded his full cooperationland all our pueblos,//-/ (
^ TAP P it 7A l/ n m l/{r» rt ^ J^gyg q£ g O O d " j
ai* rece*+veK m n ^ p,^ng
tn n n K o
at broadstone barro^ _
. morrow onto his pompay cushion. It will gr^e piketurns on th e/ /
/V-'vLtyvi. tummlipplads and crosshurdles and doiloittnovers and vicjuvious*'e '
^j^^^Urtyrolyghics at /clarkfall forAcur fancy.-fadiesi(|~Vou do not have
P iV Heard ?fj hav6 hay6 heard
heard anvone
anyot te/l j t jesterday |Tl6’W~tme-shoul
orrow here but it i£ ftr here todav.|Well but remind
t is always tomorrow^ place.. Vn-Ctv..
rue I Is rich Mr. Pori? Iways in his siich strong health ?
you for the best, eedinoly herculeneous. One
sees bow' he is 'ot stoutlier /ha1 rraerly. One would say him
to ht>lcl/whole a litteriugtuD^ of kidlings under his aproham. Has
/ handsome Mr. Pournter always been so longwarried ? 0 jes Mr.
Pour/ te^ aniiii/ s has beenf marryingman ever\jnce so long time £ V

le ­
vs V o r ^ s
LAO-Vf Am-dL. faavrn-Ktohj

J a m e s J o y c e ’s corrections to th e fin a l p roof o f his Work in Progress

in the N ovem ber 1929 issu e o f tra n sitio n

- 10 —
 INTRODUCTION
l»v
• \ o < i H lilev
• Fi«k*li

p
* A R IS , IN T H E Y E A R S FOLLOWING T H E FIR ST W ORLD WAR A N D T H E R U SSIA N
R evolution, w as a n irre sistib le m a g n e t for creative a r tis ts of all k in d s.
A m erican s p a rtic u la rly w ere d ra w n to th e C ity of L ig h t by low p rices,
freedom of e x p re ssio n a n d b eh av io r, a n d th e free-flow ing alcohol for­
b id d e n in th e U n ited S ta te s . T hey h elp ed to m ak e P a ris th e c e n te r of
th e W estern w o rld ’s a rtis tic life, a n d c reated , in th e w o rds of A rchibald
M acLeish, "th e g re a te s t p erio d of lite ra ry a n d a rtis tic in n o v a tio n sin ce
th e R e n a is s a n c e .”
F a r from th e p ro v in cialism , c e n s o rs h ip a n d P ro h ib itio n of A m erica,
th is e x p a tria te av a n t-g a rd e flo u rish e d . S h u n n e d by large tra d itio n a l
p u b lis h e r s , th e a d v e n tu r o u s w r ite rs , a r tis ts , e d ito rs a n d w e a lth y
h a n g e rs-o n of fa sh io n a b le B o h em ia c re a te d a n u m b e r of p e rip h e ra l
p u b lis h in g h o u s e s a n d "little m a g a z in e s .” T h ese sm all p u b lic a tio n s —
m a n y p rin te d in e d itio n s of a h u n d r e d o r less —a re th e d o c u m e n ts of
record for th e e x h ila ra tin g creative a d v e n tu re o f th e T w en ties a n d
T h irtie s . T h e ir n ow -yellow ing p a g e s c o n ta in tr e a s u r e s , a n d n o n e
m ore so th a n th e m a g a z in e called tra n sitio n .
T ra n sitio n , fo u n d e d in 1927 by E u g e n e J o la s , w as d ifferen t in m a n y
w ays from o th e r sm all jo u rn a ls of lite ra tu re a n d a r t b etw een th e w ars.
It la ste d lo n g er - from 1927 to 1938, a lth o u g h it m oved to T he H ague
a n d c h a n g e d in c h a ra c te r in 1932; it w as larger, so m e tim e s c o n ta in ­
ing a s m an y a s fo u r h u n d r e d p ages; it h a d a tru ly in te rn a tio n a l p o si­
tio n —no E n g lish -la n g u a g e jo u r n a l c a rrie d m ore E u ro p e a n lite ra tu re ;
a n d its e d ito ria ls a n d m a n ife s to s re fle c ted E u ro p e a n in te lle c tu a l
m ovem ents.
M ost im p o rta n tly , tra n sitio n e a rn e d a place in lite ra ry h isto ry for
p u b lis h in g e ig h te e n s e g m e n ts o f J a m e s J o y c e ’s F in n e g a n s W a k e
(called a t th e tim e sim p ly W ork in Progress). B ecau se th is serial p u b li­
ca tio n , alon g w ith e x p la n a tio n s a n d d e fe n se s of it, a c c o u n te d for m ore
p ag es th a n a n y o th e r su b je c t, th e m ag a z in e la te r b ecam e k n o w n a s la
m a is o n d e J o y c e , or, a s th e S a tu r d a y E v e n in g Post d u b b e d it, “T he
J a m e s Joyce A d u latio n a n d In te rp re ta tio n U nion, Local 6 9 .”
L eading th is d is tin g u is h e d in te rn a tio n a l g ro u p w as a sm all te am of
e d ito rs, m o stly p ro fe ssio n a l jo u rn a lis ts , m ostly A m ericans. E u g en e
J o la s h a d b e e n th e lite ra ry c ritic a n d city e d ito r of th e P a ris e d itio n of

— 11 —
 In trod u ction

th e C hicago T rib u n e. He w as b o rn in New J e rse y in 1894, b u t h is

F ren ch fa th e r a n d G erm an m o th e r m oved th e fam ily b ack to th e ir
n ativ e L orrain e w h en he w as two y ears old, giving h im a lin g u istic
facility w h ic h o p e n e d m a n y d o o rs for tr a n s itio n ; sig n ifica n tly , he
called h is u n p u b lis h e d a u to b io g ra p h y M a n fr o m B a b e l. He w as a
h a n d so m e , ro b u s t m an , k n o w n for h is a p p re c ia tio n of alcohol a n d in ­
telligent co n v ersatio n . An avid read er a n d idealist, Jo la s w as c a u g h t
u p in D ada a n d S u rre a lis t activ ities, in psychology a n d in th e p h ilo s­
ophy of th e G erm an ro m a n tic s. Fifty of h is ow n pieces a p p eared in
th e m ag azin e b etw een 1927 a n d 1938, in a d d itio n to n u m e ro u s tr a n s ­
latio n s. Som e of th e m ore fanciful w ere sig n ed w ith h is pseu d o n y m
T heo R u tra . It w as E u g en e Jo la s, also, w ho w rote m o st of tra n sitio n 's
co n tro v ersial m an ifesto s.
Elliot P aul (a colleague from th e T rib u n e, w ho later becam e fam ous
for h is n o stalg ic w a rtim e book T h e Last T im e I S a w Paris) served a s
co-editor from th e s ta r t u n til th e sp rin g of 1928, w h en h is ch ao tic love
life d e m a n d e d m ore of h is a tte n tio n . R obert Sage (also of th e T ribune)
took over P au l’s resp o n sib ilitie s, a n d Maeve Paul, h is wife, becam e
secretary . L ater a s s is ta n t a n d c o n trib u tin g e d ito rs in clu d ed S tu a r t
G ilbert, a n E n g lish m a n w ho h a d m oved to P a ris in 1927, beco m in g a
m em b er of th e sm all Joyce circle a n d a s s is tin g w ith th e F ren ch tr a n s ­
la tio n of U lysses. A n o th e r p e rip h e ra l m e m b er of th e “s ta ff” w as H arry
C rosby, w hose in h e rite d w ealth gave h im th e m e a n s to pay entirely for
Issu e No. 14. H a riy Crosby, th e su n -m y stic as Paul called h im , w as
also a gifted w rite r a n d fo u n d e r of th e B lack S u n P ress in P aris (w hose
a u th o rs in clu d ed A rch ib ald M acLeish, Kay Boyle a n d H art C rane). His
su icid e w ith h is m istre s s in New York in 1929 w as a tra u m a tic event
in th e h isto ry of th is g ro u p , in s p irin g a large m em orial special sectio n
in th e m ag azin e a n d p e rh a p s, w ith h in d s ig h t, sym bolizing th e en d of
th e carefree era of th e T w enties. Kay Boyle, w ho h a d com e to F rance
w ith h e r F re n c h h u s b a n d (o rig in ally liv ing w ith h im in Le H avre
before e sc a p in g to Paris), w hile never officially p a rt of th e staff, w as a
fre q u e n t c o n trib u to r a n d v isito r to th e offices. E xtrem ely im p o rta n t,
b u t n o t alw ays e n o u g h ack n o w led g ed , w as J o la s ’s wife M aria, a n
A m erican from K entucky, w hom lie h a d m et w h en sh e w as a m u sic
s tu d e n t. S h e w as office m a n a g e r, c o n s u ltin g e d ito r a n d fre q u e n t
tra n sla to r.
T h e m a g a z in e ’s offices in a fourth-floor h o tel room at 40, ru e F ab ert
m ay have h a d a g ra n d view of th e esp lan ad e des Invalides, b u t th e
q u a rte rs w ere cram p ed , a n d th e p lu m b in g fixtures so c h a ra c te ristic of
F ren ch hotel ro o m s su p p o rte d b o a rd s w h ich w ere piled h ig h w ith
sta c k s of m a n u s c rip ts . "The walls of Room 16 sh o u ld be s a tu ra te d
w ith a rg u m e n ts , jo k es, d isc u ssio n s, w orries, m ockeries a n d th o se
p le a s a n t m e a n d e rin g c o n v e rsa tio n s w h ich a t college we called pea-
t a l k s ,” r e m in is c e d R o b e rt S a g e w h e n th e m a g a z in e s u s p e n d e d
p u b lic a tio n in 1930.

— 12 —
 In trod u ctio n

T ra n sitio n m ad e its first a p p e a ra n c e in A pril 1927 a s a m o n th ly

m ag azine. A fter twelve is s u e s it w as c u t b ack to fo u r tim e s a year,
sty le d a s "A n I n t e r n a t i o n a l Q u a r te r ly fo r C re a tiv e E x p e r im e n t.”
Typical early is s u e s c o n ta in e d a b o u t te n s h o rt p ro se pieces, a dozen
po em s a n d som e p a in tin g s , alo n g w ith review s a n d essay s by th e
ed ito rs. Issu e s grew in size b u t b ecam e sp o ra d ic in 1929 a n d 1930,
w h en p u b lic a tio n w as s u s p e n d e d a lto g e th e r a s th e fin an cial losses b e ­
cam e too g re a t for th e J o la s e s to b e a r a n d th e illn ess of J a m e s Joyce
h a lte d h is in s ta llm e n ts of th e W ork in Progress.
Two y e ars later, tra n sitio n w as revived by th e S erv ire P re ss of T he
H ag u e, a p p e a r in g a n n u a lly o r b i-a n n u a lly th r o u g h 1938. In th is
se c o n d in c a r n a tio n it wra s s u b title d " I n te r n a tio n a l W o rk sh o p for
O rp h ic C re a tio n ,” sig n a llin g a c h a n g e w h ic h p ro m p te d its fre q u e n t
c ritic W averley Root of th e C hicago T rib u n e P aris ed itio n to claim th a t
th e e d ito rs h a d g one "com pletely h a y w ire .” E u g e n e Jo la s, w ho w as
a g a in a t th e h elm , filled m ore a n d m ore of its p ag es w ith d re a m s, h y p ­
n o sis a n d a u to m a tic w ritin g . T h is p re s e n t collection lim its itse lf (w ith
one or two excep tio n s) to tra n sitio n 's first p h a se , Issu e s 1 th ro u g h 20,
w h ich a p p e a re d from A pril 1927 th ro u g h J u n e 1930.
To provoke th e c ritic s, E u g e n e J o la s a n d E lliot Paul ch ose to re n d e r
th e title of th e m a g a z in e w ith o u t c a p ita liz a tio n . T h e n a m e derives
from E dw in M u ir’s 1926 collection of critical essay s called T ra n sitio n
(p u b lish e d by L eo n ard a n d V irg in ia W oolfs H o g arth P ress) w h ic h ex­
p re sse d sy m p a th y for th e a r tis t in revolt a g a in s t th e p a st.
T r a n s itio n w a s a n im m e d ia te a n d c o n tro v e rs ia l s u c c e s s . As th e
m a g a z in e ’s b io g ra p h e r D ougald M cM illan h a s sa id , “For A m erica n s at
h o m e (an d for a sm a lle r n u m b e r of E n g lish in tellectu als) it cam e to
s ta n d for all th a t w as n ew in co n tem p o rary 7 w ritin g . . . . M ost people
never saw a copy b u t n o d d e d in a g re e m e n t a s b ook review pag es of
n e w sp a p e rs p ro n o u n c e d it u n in te llig ib le o r la u g h e d a s L ife m a g azin e
sa tiriz e d it in a c a rto o n a s th e q u in te s s e n c e of e x p a tria te e x tre m ism .”
T ra n sitio n sa w it a s its ta s k to d eclare w ar o n tra d itio n a l lite ra tu re
a n d h e ra ld th e so u rc e of c re a tio n in th e irra tio n a l, u n c o n s c io u s w orld
of d re a m s, calling for a new la n g u a g e to e x p ress th a t c re atio n . T h ese
s e n tim e n ts w ere in h a rm o n y w ith th e D a d a ists a n d S u rre a lis ts w hose
w o rk a p p e a re d in its p a g e s. A tw elv e-p o in t P ro c la m a tio n of 1929,
sig n e d by J o la s , E lliot Paul, H art C ra n e a n d Kay Boyle a m o n g o th e rs,
declared th a t "T he rev o lu tio n in th e E n g lish la n g u a g e is a n acco m ­
p lish e d fa c t.” H arry C rosby titled o ne of h is s h o r t tra n sitio n pieces
"T he New W ord,” w h ic h h e defined a s "th e clean p ie rc in g of a Sw ord
th ro u g h th e ro tte n c a rc a ss of th e D ic tio n a ry .”
E u g e n e J o la s k e p t a d o o r o p en to all e x p e rim e n ta l w ritin g —"We are
n o t tro u b le d b y m a n u s c r ip ts we do n o t u n d e r s t a n d ,” h e w ro te —
p a y in g t h i r t y f r a n c s p e r p r i n t e d p a g e . R e m a rk a b le to d a y is th e
n u m b e r of th e g re a t a n d th e n e a r-g re a t w hose w ork a p p e a re d in its
pages. In a d d itio n to J a m e s Joyce, is s u e s from 1927 to 1930 in clu d ed

— 13 —
 In trod u ction

w orks by S am u el B eckett, Paul Bowles, Kay Boyle, E rsk in e Caldwell,

H a rt C ra n e , R o b e rt G ra v e s, th e p o e t H .D ., E r n e s t H em in g w ay ,
A rchibald M acLeish, K ath erin e A nne P orter, L au ra R iding, G ertru d e
S te in a n d W illiam C arlos W illiam s. In T he H ague, H enry Miller, A nais
N in, W illiam S a ro y a n a n d D ylan T h o m a s w ere a m o n g o th e r s w ho
jo in e d th e im pressiv e ro ster.
E u g en e J o la s ’ know ledge of lan g u ag es b ro u g h t im p o rta n t w rite rs
from a c ro ss E u ro p e to tra n sitio n . From F rance, h e p u b lish e d A ndre
G ide (who a p p e a re d in th e first issue), T ris ta n T zara, a n d th e S u rre a l­
ists, w hose fa sc in a tio n w ith d re a m s a n d a u to m a tic w ritin g coincided
w ith h is ow n. T h ese in clu d ed P aul E lu a rd a n d R obert D esnos, w hose
h a u n tin g sile n t film sc e n a rio is rep ro d u ced in th is volum e. F rom th e
G erm an cam e p o em s by R a in e r M aria Rilke, a s h o rt sto ry by F ra n z
K afka a n d a n essay by C arl G u stav J u n g ; a n d from fu rth e r afield,
po etry by th e H u n g a ria n L orincz Szabo, th e R u ssia n Serge E sse n in
a n d th e M exican Alfonso Reyes, a n d fiction by th e Y iddish w rite r I. M.
V eissenberg.
T he lead in g a r tis ts of th e p eriod also m ade a p p e a ra n c e s in th ese
pages. T ra n sitio n sh ow ed th e la te st w o rk s by M an Ray, P icasso, Max
E r n s t, A le x a n d e r C a ld e r, P a u l Klee, B e re n ic e A b b o tt, G io rg io de
C hirico, Yves T a n g u y a n d Diego R ivera (so little kno w n a t th e tim e
th a t h e w as m ista k e n ly listed a s Piedro Rivera) a m o n g o th e rs, often
w ith ap p reciativ e essays. P h o to g ra p h s of p re-C o lu m b ian sc u lp tu re s
a n d rock-crystal sk u lls in th e B ritish M u seum ro u n d e d o u t th e u n ­
p red ictab le v isu al m ix. T he o rig in als of m an y of th ese w orks of a r t by
la te r-fa m o u s a r t i s t s hav e n o w b e e n lo st, m a k in g th e ir re c o rd in
tra n sitio n all th e m ore p recio u s.
T he m a in s ta r of tra n sitio n w as of co u rse J a m e s Joyce, w ho, th o u g h
forty-five y ears old in 1927, w as th e q u in te s s e n tia l m o d ern rev o lu tio n ­
ary a r tis t o n th e P a ris scene. It w as Sylvia B each, th e ow ner of th e
fa m o u s b o o k s h o p a n d le n d in g lib ra ry S h a k e s p e a re a n d C o m p an y
n e a r th e O deon, a n d p u b lis h e r of Jo y ce’s U lysses, w ho a rra n g e d a
m e e tin g in w h ich Joyce read from h is Wor/c in Progress to a n e n ­
th u s ia s tic sm all au d ie n c e , in c lu d in g E u g en e Jo las; Sylvia B each w as
tra n sitio n 's official d is tr ib u to r in E u ro p e, w hile F ra n ce s Steloff a t th e
G o th am Book M art in New York w as h e r c o u n te rp a rt in th e U nited
S ta te s.
All w ho have h e a rd J a m e s Joyce re a d alo u d from h is w ork have re ­
m a rk e d o n th e a lm o s t m ag ic a l effect of h is voice. J o la s sin c ere ly
believed t h a t Jo y ce w as in v e n tin g th e " u n iv e rsa l la n g u a g e ,” a n d
recognized th a t th e p resen ce of th e lead er of th e av an t-g ard e w ould
e n s u re th e m a g a z in e ’s fam e.
Joyce also n eed ed tra n sitio n a s a n o u tle t for th e "novel” w hich took
h im e ig h teen y ears to w rite. He p referred serial p u b lic a tio n for th is
new w ork, w h ich F ord M addox F o rd ’s tra n s a tla n tic review , M arian n e
M oore’s T h e D ia l, E z ra P o u n d ’s T h e E x ile a n d W y ndham L ew is’s

— 14 —
 In trod u ction

T h e E n e m y h a d alread y rejected a s u n in te llig ib le o r o bscene. P u b lica­

tio n in E u ro p e w a s also a w ay o f a v o id in g A m e ric a n a n d B ritis h
c e n so rsh ip .
T ra n sitio n ag reed to re p rin t p ieces w h ic h h a d a p p e a re d e arlier a n d
th e n c o n tin u e w ith fu r th e r in sta llm e n ts . J o la s n o t only help ed Joyce
w ith re w ritin g , rev isin g a n d e d itin g h is “n ig h t w orld" before p u b lic a ­
tio n , h e also pro v id ed a ste a d y flow of essay s e x p la in in g a n d d efen d in g
th e w ork. In 1932, w ith Jo y c e ’s b le ssin g , th e new tra n sitio n took th e
b o ld s te p o f t r a n s l a t i n g th e la s t fo u r p a g e s o f th e “A n n a L ivia
P lu r a b e lle ” s e c t i o n in t o p la i n E n g lis h . T h e J o l a s e s e v e n tu a lly
becam e th e m ajo r s u p p o rte rs a n d frie n d s of th e Jo y ce fam ily. J a m e s
Joyce re cip ro c ate d by m a k in g tra n sitio n fa m o u s a n d by in c lu d in g
in t h i s W o rk in P r o g r e s s n u m e r o u s h id d e n r e f e r e n c e s to th e
m ag azin e.
T h e sec o n d m ajo r p re se n c e a m o n g th e c o n trib u to rs w as G e rtru d e
S te in , chiefly th a n k s to th e e n th u s ia s m of E lliot Paul, w ho h a d fallen
u n d e r h e r spell a t th e ru e F le u ru s. A lth o u g h h e r w ork w as q u ite d is ­
sim ila r to Jo y c e ’s, s h e c e rta in ly sa tisfie d J o la s ’s love of c re a tio n by in ­
stin c tiv e a n d a u to m a tic p ro c e sse s. T h e egos of b o th Joyce a n d S te in
p rev en te d th e m from u n d e r s ta n d in g w hy tra n sitio n p u b lish e d th e
w o rk of th e o th e r. G e rtru d e S te in ’s w o rk a p p e a re d re g u la rly u n til
M arch 1932. A fter th e p u b lic a tio n of h e r A u to b io g ra p h y o f A lic e B.
T o k la s th e n e x t year, in w h ic h sh e claim ed th a t E lliot P aul h a d really
fo u n d ed tra n sitio n a n d th a t s h e h a d b e e n its m o st im p o rta n t c o n ­
trib u to r, sh e w as d e n o u n c e d in a sp ecial su p p le m e n t to tra n sitio n
Issu e 23, titled “T e stim o n y A g a in st G e rtru d e S te in ." M atisse, T ris ta n
T z a r a a n d G e o rg e s B r a q u e j o i n e d th e J o l a s e s in r e f u t i n g h e r
a sse rtio n s.
T h e p re se n c e of ra d ic a l th o u g h w idely diverse w rite rs like G e rtru d e
S te in , J a m e s Joyce, T ris ta n T z a ra a n d th e S u rre a lis ts led to c h arg es
th a t th e m a g a z in e w as a m in d le ss, even d a n g e ro u s, c o n sp ira cy of
a r tis ts w ith a s in is te r p u rp o se . Provocative m a n ife sto s — c o n ta in in g
in fla m m a to ry p r o n o u n c e m e n ts s u c h a s “T h e w rite r e x p re sse s. He
does n o t c o m m u n ic a te . T h e p la in re a d e r be d a m n e d " - in sp ire d tra n ­
sitio n 's r e p u ta tio n a s far o u t a n d eccen tric. O ne of th e m o st celeb rated
of th e se m a n ife sto s w as H a n d s O ff Love, w h ic h cam e to th e defense of
C h arlie C h a p lin , on tria l in th e U n ited S ta te s for re q u irin g h is wife to
perfo rm “u n n a tu r a l se x u a l a c ts." W yndham Lewis in s is te d th a t th e
m ag azin e w as p a r t of a C o m m u n is t-S u rre a lis t plo t h e a d e d by Joyce
a n d S te in (w ho h a d nev er m et e a c h o th er). Any p ro te s t of in n o ce n ce in
th e face of th e s e c h a rg e s w as g reeted by th e a c c u se rs a s fu rth e r proof
of a co n spiracy .
F ar rem oved from th e se d e b a te s, it is a s to n is h in g today to w itn e ss
th e se g ra n d old m e n a n d w o m en of lite ra tu re a n d a r t in th e ir y o u th ,
for m o st w ere in th e ir tw e n tie s w h e n th e y w rote th e s e pieces. T he u n ­
e v en n ess of so m e of th e ir c o n trib u tio n s is a s fa s c in a tin g a s th e ir

— 15 —
 In trod u ction

flash es of g e n iu s. Truly, we c a n see before o u r eyes m an y m em b ers of

th is b rillia n t g e n e ra tio n fin d in g th e ir voice.
T he w ritin g a n d a rt in tra n sitio n have survived th e decades w ith
e n o rm o u s f r e s h n e s s a n d pow er. T he F re n c h w rite r a n d p u b lis h e r
P hilippe S o u p a u lt w rote a t th e en d of th e m ag a zin e’s first p h a se , in
1930, th a t it w as in F ran ce th e “only living force, th e only review
w h ich did n o t d e sp a ir of p oetry." C ritics in th e U nited S ta te s, m e a n ­
w hile, referred to it a s “th a t irrita tin g m ix tu re of b rillian ce a n d n o n ­
s e n s e .” B u t p e rh a p s th e e p ita p h w h ich th e tra n sitio n g ro u p w ould
have w ish ed w as fo rm u lated by R o b ert Sage h im se lf in a le tte r to
E u g e n e J o la s . T r a n s itio n h e w ro te , “fired th e firs t s h o ts in th e
R evolution of th e W ord.”

— 16 —
A PARIS ANTHOLOGY

MAN R A Y
Film [d e t a i l ]

(SUMMER 1928]

— 17 —
 N O T E S
ON T ill: TEXT

All m aterial in th is anthology ap pears exactly as it was published in

transition. Where Eugene Jolas and his associate editors allowed erratic (or
erroneous) spellings and pu n ctu atio n to escape them , these have been
preserved; only obvious printers’ errors have been rectified.
Artwork, likewise, appears in its original form. Whenever possible, however,
new identical p rin ts have been located, to obtain the best reproduction
quality. The captions are the original ones, and the full titles of most of the
works are listed in the Acknowledgments section.
Issues of transition are customarily referred to by number. In the interest of
clarity, however, the pieces in this book have been identified by issue date.
Selections in this anthology have been taken from the following issues:

Issue 1 : April 1927 Issue 11 : February 1928

2 : May 1927 12 : March 1928
3 : Ju n e 1927 13 : Sum m er 1928
4 : Ju ly 1927 14 : Fall 1928
5 : A ugust 1927 15 : February 1929
6 : Septem ber 1927 16-17 : Ju n e 1929
7 : October 1927 18 : November 1929
8 : November 1927 19-20 : Ju n e 1930
9 : December 1927 21: March 1932
10 : Jan u ary 1928 24 : Ju n e 1936

— 18 —
 PROCLAMATION

PROC L.AMATION
TIRED O F TH E SPECTA CLE O F SH O RT STO R IES, N OV ELS, POEM S AND PI AYS STILL
U ND ER TH E HEG EM ON Y O F TH E BANAl W O R D , M O N O TO N O U S SYNTAX, STATIC
PSYCHOLOGY, D ESCRIPTIVE NATURALISM , A N D DESIROU S O F CRYSTALLIZING A
V IE W P O IN T . . .

W E HEREBY DECLARE THAT!

1. THE REVOLUTION IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE IS AN ACCOM­

PLISHED FACT.
2. THE IMAGINATION IN SEARCH OF A FABULOUS WORLD IS AUTO­
NOMOUS AND UNCONFINED.
(Prudence is a rich, ugly old maid courted by Incapacity . . . Blake)
3. PURE POETRY IS A LYRICAL ABSOLUTE THAT SEEKS AN A PRIORI
REALITY WITHIN OURSELVES ALONE.
(Bring out number, weight and measure in a year of dearth . . . Blake)
4. NARRATIVE IS NOT MERE ANECDOTE, BUT THE PROJECTION OF A
METAMORPHOSIS OF REALITY.
( Enough! O r Too Much! . . . Blake)
5. THE EXPRESSION OF THESE CONCEPTS CAN BE ACHIEVED ONLY
THROUGH THE RHYTHMIC “ HALLUCINATION OF THE WORD” .
(Rim baud).
6. THE LITERARY CREATOR HAS THE RIGHT TO DISINTEGRATE THE
PRIMAL MATTER OF WORDS IMPOSED ON HIM BY TEXT-BOOKS AND
DICTIONARIES.
(The road of excess leads to the palace of Wisdom . . . Blake)
7. HE HAS THE RIGHT TO USE WORDS OF HIS OWN FASHIONING
AND TO DISREGARD EXISTING GRAMMATICAL AND SYNTACTICAL
LAWS.
(The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction . . . Blake)
8. THE “LITANY OF WORDS” IS ADMITTED AS AN INDEPENDENT
UNIT.
9. WE ARE NOT CONCERNED WITH THE PROPAGATION OF
SOCIOLOGICAL IDEAS, EXCEPT TO EMANCIPATE THE CREATIVE
ELEMENTS FROM THE PRESENT IDEOLOGY.
10. TIME IS A TYRANNY TO BE ABOLISHED.
11. THE WRITER EXPRESSES. HE DOES NOT COMMUNICATE.
12. THE PLAIN READER BE DAMNED.
(Dam n braces! Bless relaxes! . . . Blake)
- Signed: k a y b o y le , w h it b u r n e t t , h a r t c r a n e , c a r e s s e cro sb y , h a rry
CROSBY, M ARTHA FOl.F.Y, STUART GILBERT, A. L. G ILLESPIE, LEIGH H O FFM A N ,
E U G EN E JO L A S , ELLIO T PA U L, D O U G LA S RIGBY, T H E O RU TRA , ROBERT SA G E,
HAROLD J . SALEN1SON, LAURENCE VAIL.

LIUNIi 1929]

— 19 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

INTRODUCTION TO
ISSUE N° 1

F ALL T H E V A L U E S C O N C E IV E D B Y T H E M IN D O F M AN T H R O U G H O U T
th e a g e s, th e a r t i s ti c h a v e p ro v e n th e m o s t e n d u r in g . P rim itiv e
p e o p le a n d th e m o s t th o r o u g h ly c iv ilized h a v e alw ay s h a d , in c o m ­
m o n , a t h i r s t fo r b e a u ty a n d a n a p p r e c ia tio n o f th e a tte m p ts of
t h e o th e r to r e c r e a te th e w o n d e r s s u g g e s te d b y n a t u r e a n d h u m a n
e x p e rie n c e . T h e ta n g ib le lin k b e tw e e n th e c e n tu r ie s is t h a t o f a r t.
It j o in s d i s t a n t c o n t i n e n t s in to a m y s te r io u s u n i t , lo n g b e fo re th e
i n h a b i t a n t s a re a w a re o f th e u n iv e r s a lity o f t h e ir im p u ls e s .
A s y e a r s h a v e p a s s e d , t r u t h s h a v e t u r n e d to folly a n d b a c k
a g a in , c o u n tl e s s tim e s . B y i n c r e a s i n g k n o w le d g e , s o r r o w h a s
s u re ly b e e n in c r e a s e d , b u t jo y also . T h e q u e s t fo r b e a u ty h a s n o t
y e t p ro v e n fu tile . It h a s b e e n c o n s is te n tly in g o o d s t a n d i n g a s a
m e a n s o f e n r ic h in g life. It h a s b e e n th e le a s t d e s tr u c tiv e o f all th e
m a jo r u rg e s .
We h e a r m u c h ta lk , n o w a d a y s , o f th e e n c r o a c h m e n t o f c o m m e r­
c ia lis m u p o n th e field o f a r t, o f th e d o m in a n c e o f th e a c q u is itiv e
s p i r i t a n d th e d w in d lin g o f th e reflectiv e o r c o n te m p la tiv e fa c u l­
tie s. T h e t h r e a t d o e s n o t s e e m g ra v e , to u s . O u r ag e d o e s n o t
a p p e a r le s s p ic tu r e s q u e , t h a n a n o th e r , n o r le ss likely to s tim u la te
a d e s ire to p e r p e tu a te it, a lo n g w ith its p re d e c e s s o rs , in te r m s of
w o rd s , p ig m e n ts a n d to n e s . T h e a r t i s t is h a r r a s s e d b y la w s , a b it,
a n d b y e c o n o m ic p r e s s u r e . T h is is h a r d ly n e w . W o rk s o f g r e a t
o rig in a lity , th e r e s u lt o f lo n g la b o r o n th e p a r t o f a s u p e r io r m in d ,
a re n o t g r a s p e d in a m o m e n t b y h a s ty , le s s e r folk. T h is is n o t
g r o u n d fo r d e s p a ir .
A rt h a s n e v e r c o n f u s e d its e lf w ith c o m m e rc e . T h e s a m e g u lf
e x is ts to d a y . It h a s a lw ay s s u r m o u n te d c h a u v in is m , g re e d a n d
v u lg a rity .
P e r h a p s , b e c a u s e A m e ric a is y o u n g , fro m th e w h ite m a n ’s
s t a n d p o in t, a n d h a s b e e n c o n s ta n tly a d a p tin g its e lf to c h a n g in g
c o n d i t i o n s , w it h o u t a s in g le t r a n q u i l d e c a d e , it h a s b e e n le s s
a ffe c te d b y lite r a tu r e , m u s ic o r p a i n ti n g t h a n a n y o th e r la n d .

— 20 —
 T he EDITORS

S u r e ly it is th e o n ly c o u n tr y , in r e c e n t c e n t u r i e s , w h ic h h a s
a c c e p te d r e a d y -m a d e c u ltu r e s fro m o th e r p e o p le s b e fo re h a v in g
d e v e lo p e d o n e c h a r a c te r is tic a lly its o w n . T h e e a rly s e ttle r s , if th e ir
a r c h ite c tu r e is in d ic a tiv e , w e re n o t in s e n s itiv e to b e a u ty , b u t th e y
d e s tro y e d o r ig n o r e d th e w e a lth o f a r t w h ic h th e I n d ia n s o ffered
th e m a n d le t th e a m a z in g m o n u m e n t s a n d re lic s o f th e M o u n d
B u ild e r s b e b r o k e n w ith p lo w s h a r e s .
L ately, A m e r ic a n s h a v e s h o w n u n m is ta k e a b le s ig n s o f a r tis tic
a w a k e n in g . P o e ts a n d n o v e lis ts h a v e c o m e fo rw a rd w ith w o rk o f
u n q u e s t i o n a b l e g e n u i n e n e s s a n d o r ig in a lity . M o re i m p o r t a n t ,
still, a s m a ll g r o u p o f in te llig e n t r e a d e r s h a s d e v e lo p ed . A s y et
th e r e is o n ly a b e g in n in g b u t it g iv es g lo rio u s p r o m is e .
It is q u ite n a t u r a l t h a t th e n e w in te r e s t in A m e ric a n lite r a tu r e
s h o u ld s ti m u l a te a c u r io u s ity a b o u t th e l ite r a tu r e o f o th e r la n d s .
L a n g u a g e s a r e b a d ly t a u g h t, in th e U n ite d S ta te s , a n d g e o g r a p h ic
is o la tio n m a k e s it s till m o re d iffic u lt to follow c o n te m p o r a n e o u s
E u r o p e a n lite r a tu r e . T r a n s l a to r s h a v e o fte n s e le c te d th e e a s ie s t o r
th e le a s t e x p e n s iv e w o r k s . C o in c id e n tly , th e g o v e r n m e n t h a s
p la c e d s u c h o b s ta c le s in th e w a y o f f r a n k e x p r e s s io n t h a t th e
w o rk o f a lm o s t e v ery c a p a b le A m e ric a n n o v e lis t h a s b e e n s u p ­
p re s s e d , in w h o le o r in p a r t . P u b lis h e r s h a v e b e c o m e fra n k ly m e r ­
c h a n t s a n d th e m a g a z in e s , w ith o n e o r tw o b r illia n t e x c e p tio n s ,
h a v e d is c a r d e d all lite r a r y p r e te n s io n s . In s p ite o f th e s e d iffic u l­
tie s , m e n h a v e c o n t i n u e d to w rite a n d to i n t e r e s t th e m s e lv e s in
b o o k s a n d p o e m s . T h e m o d e r n A m e ric a n w r ite r s , c o m p o s e rs a n d
p a i n t e r s a r e g ra d u a lly g a in in g r e c o g n itio n a b r o a d .
t r a n s i t i o n w is h e s to o ffer A m e ric a n w r ite r s a n o p p o r tu n ity to

e x p r e s s th e m s e lv e s freely, to e x p e r im e n t, if th e y a r e so m in d e d ,
a n d to av a il th e m s e lv e s o f a re a d y , a le r t a n d c ritic a l a u d ie n c e . To
th e w r ite r s o f all o t h e r c o u n tr ie s , t r a n s i t i o n e x te n d s a n in v ita tio n
to a p p e a r , s id e b y s id e , in a la n g u a g e A m e ric a n s c a n re a d a n d
u n d e r s t a n d . T h e r e s u lt s h o u ld b e m u tu a lly h e lp fu l a n d in s p ir in g .
C o n tr ib u ti o n s w ill b e w e lc o m e d fro m all s o u r c e s a n d th e fa c t t h a t
a n a u t h o r ’s n a m e is u n k n o w n w ill a s s u r e h i s m a n u s c r i p t a m o re
fa v o ra b le e x a m in a tio n .
We d o n o t h o ld w ith th e d o g m a t h a t c o n te m p o r a r y w o rk s o f a r t
c a n n o t b e e v a lu a te d . It is e a s ie r to ju d g e a c o n te m p o r a r y w o rk
b e c a u s e it a r is e s fro m s o u r c e s m o re re a d ily a n d d ire c tly u n d e r ­
s ta n d a b le . No r ig id a r t is t ic fo rm u la e w ill b e a p p lie d in s e le c tin g
th e c o n te n ts o f t r a n s i t i o n . If th e i n s p ir a ti o n is g e n u in e , th e c o n ­
c e p tio n c le a r a n d th e r e s u lt a r tis tic a lly o rg a n iz e d , in th e j u d g e ­
m e n t o f th e e d ito r s , a c o n t r i b u t i o n w ill b e a c c e p te d . O rig in a lity

— 21 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

w ill b e its b e s t r e c o m m e n d a tio n . N e ith e r v io len c e n o r s u b tle ty w ill

re p e l u s .
We b e lie v e , t h a t a l t h o u g h a r t a n d l i t e r a t u r e a r e , in m a n y
q u a r te r s , g ro w in g m o re d e fin ite ly ra c ia l a n d n a tio n a l in c o lo rin g
a n d te x tu r e , t h e ir a p p e a l is b e c o m in g d is tin c tly in te r n a tio n a l.
T h e r e a d e r is c o m in g in to h i s o w n . W h a te v e r te n d e n c ie s a p p e a r,
w e w a n t th e m to b e re fle c te d in t r a n s i t i o n if th e y h a v e re a l a r tis tic
v a lu e . T h e b u l k o f th e s p a c e w ill b e d e v o te d to s to r ie s , p la y s,
s k e tc h e s o r p o e m s . C ritic a l a r tic le s w ill b e s u b je c te d to th e s a m e
te s ts a s o th e r k in d s o f c re a tiv e w o rk . If w rite r s em p lo y lo n g e r
fo rm s t h a t c a n b e in c lu d e d in toto, e x tr a c ts w ill b e g iv en .
A t th e o u ts e t, th e e d ito r s h a v e f o u n d th e fo re m o s t w r ite r s o f all
c o u n tr ie s re a d y to c o o p e ra te in a m o s t c o u r te o u s a n d g e n e ro u s
f a s h io n , a n d w e w is h to a c k n o w le d g e t h i s w ith th a n k s . We s h o u ld
lik e to th i n k o f th e r e a d e r s a s a h o m o g e n e o u s g r o u p of frie n d s ,
u n i t e d b y a c o m m o n a p p r e c ia tio n o f t h e b e a u tifu l, — id e a lis ts o f a
s o r t, —a n d to s h a r e w ith th e m w h a t h a s s e e m e d s ig n ific a n t to u s .
The E d itors.

[APRIL 1927]

— 22 —
 T he EDITORS

SUGGESTIONS FOR A
NEW MAGIC

t r a n s it io n w il l a t t e m p t t o p r e s e n t t h e q u i n t e s s e n c e o f
th e m o d e rn s p i r i t in e v o lu tio n . It m a y b e i n te r e s tin g , th e re fo re , to
re -d e fin e s o m e o f th e c o n c e p ts t h a t s y m b o liz e t h i s s p i r i t w h ic h
b o th o n th e A m e ric a n a n d E u r o p e a n c o n t i n e n t s is s u r r o u n d e d by
a c e r ta in c o n f u s io n .
We believ e in th e id eo lo g y o f re v o lt a g a i n s t all d ilu te d a n d s y n ­
th e tic p o e try , a g a i n s t all a r ti s t i c e ffo rts t h a t fail to s u b v e r t th e
e x is tin g c o n c e p ts o f b e a u ty . O n c e a n d fo r all le t it b e s ta te d t h a t if
th e r e is a n y r e a l c h o ic e to b e m a d e , w e p r e f e r to s k y s c r a p e r
s p ir itu a lity , th e im m e n s e ly ric is m a n d m a d n e s s o f illogic.
R e a lism in A m e ric a h a s r e a c h e d it s p o in t o f s a t u r a t i o n . We a re
n o lo n g e r i n te r e s te d in th e p h o to g r a p h y o f e v e n ts , in th e m e re s il­
h o u e ttin g o f f a c ts , in th e p r e s e n t a t io n o f m is e ry , in th e a n e c d o tic
b o r e d o m o f v e rse .
We a r e n o t i n te r e s te d in d ille tta n tis m a s a m e a n s o f lite r a r y e x ­
p r e s s io n . We d e n o u n c e th e f a r c e u r s w h o s e so le c la im to c o n te m ­
p o r a r y c o n s id e r a tio n is a facile s e n s e o f liltin g r h y th m s . T h e e p ­
ig o n e s o f W h itm a n a n d h i s fo llo w e rs h a v e b e c o m e h o p e le s s ly
e n ta n g le d in s e n tim e n ta lity , e c le c tic is m , “d e lic a te p e r c e p tio n s ”.
We a re n o t in t e r e s te d in li t e r a t u r e t h a t w ilfully a t te m p ts to b e o f
th e ag e. U n le ss th e r e b e a p e r c e p tio n o f e te r n a l v a lu e s , th e r e c a n
b e n o n e w m a g ic . T h e p o in t o f d e p a r t u r e is u n i m p o r t a n t . T h e
p o e t m a y u s e th e iy t h m o f h is a g e , if h e b e so in c lin e d , a n d t h u s
tell u s , w ith a c c e le ra te d in te n s ity , th e A ra b ia n N ig h ts ’ a d v e n tu r e s
o f h is b r a in . B u t le t h im n o t fo rg e t t h a t o n ly th e d r e a m is e s s e n ­
tia l.
T h e r u s h i n g o f n e w s p r i n g s c a n b e h e a r d o n ly in sile n c e . T o b e
s u r e , few o f u s c a n h a v e P a u l V alery ’s e c s ta tic a n d fe rtile sile n c e .
T h a t is m o re o f th e s p i r i t o f p o e tiy t h a n th e r o a r o f m a c h in e s . O u t
o f it m a y c o m e fin ally a v e rtic a l u rg e .
We b eliev e t h a t th e r e is n o h o p e fo r p o e tiy u n le s s th e r e b e d i s ­
i n t e g r a t i o n f ir s t. We n e e d n e w w o r d s , n e w a b s t r a c t i o n s , n e w

— 23 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

h i e r o g l y p h i c s , n e w s y m b o ls , n e w m y t h s . T h e s e v a lu e s to b e
o rg a n ic a lly evolved a n d h o s tile to a m e re m e ta p h o ric a l c o n c e p tio n
m u s t s e e k fre e r a s s o c ia tio n . T h u s th e r e m a y b e p r o d u c e d t h a t
s u b l i m a t i o n o f th e s p i r i t w h ic h g ro w s im m in e n tly o u t o f th e
m o d e r n c o n s c io u s n e s s . B y r e - e s ta b lis h in g th e s im p lic ity of th e
w o rd , w e m a y fin d a g a in its old m a g n ific e n c e . G e r tr u d e S te in ,
J a m e s Jo y c e , H a r t C ra n e , L o u is A ra g o n . A n d re B re to n , L e o n -P a u l
F a rg u e . A u g u s t S tr a m m a n d o th e r s a re s h o w in g u s th e w ay.
We w h o live in t h is c h a o tic ag e, a re w e n o t a w a re t h a t liv in g
its e lf is a n in f e r n o ? A n d h a v in g e x p e rie n c e d it, c a n w e n o t e x p re s s
it b y s e e k in g n e w o u tle ts a n d n e w r e g io n s o f p r o b a b ility ? A re n o t
th e w o rk in g o f th e i n s t i n c t s a n d th e m y s te rie s of th e s h a d o w s
m o re b e a u tif u l t h a n th e s te r ile w o rld o f b e a u ty w e h a v e k n o w n ? It
is A r t h u r R im b a u d w h o c a p tu r e d t h i s id e a first. In h im b ro k e
fo rth sa v a g e ly in te n s if ie d th e feelin g o f th e s u b c o n s c io u s , p u r e
e m e rg e n c e o f th e i n s tin c t, c h ild -lik e a n d b r u ta l.
P e r h a p s w e a re s e e k in g G od. P e r h a p s n o t. It m a tte r s little o n e
w ay o r th e o th e r . W h a t really m a tte r s is t h a t w e a re o n th e q u e s t.
P ie ty o r s a v a g e ry h a v e b o th th e s a m e b a s e s . W ith o u t u n r e s t we
h a v e s t a g n a t io n a n d im p o te n c e .
The E d itors.

[JUNE 1927]

— 24 —
 B eren ice ABBOTT

p o E in

In Oi‘r<‘iiiri‘ Aliboll

D o n ’t d i s c u s s l i f e , p e o p l e , p r o b l e m s , d o n ’t v o i c e p o v e r t y .

[JUNE 1927]

SOME OPINIONS [1 9 2 9 ]
— A casual look at the la st num ber of Transition, th a t brilliant publication
edited by my friend Eugene Jo la s, was th e starting point for som e re­
flections on the state of contem porary poetry. So far as they are clearly for­
m ulated, I can n o t u n d erstan d the critical theories of th a t paper, nor can
any man to whom words are supposed to fulfill th eir an cient function of
corresponding in an arbitrary way to arbitrary sounds which in tu rn finally
correspond to definite concepts. That th is so rt of thing is still waiting for
its great critic is in a way unim portant; w hat m atters is to read what these
young people are doing and to determ ine if they have som ething to say and
are saying i t ..
—Alex Small in th e Chicago Tribune, Paris edition.

— 25 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

B e r e n i c e Al»l»ott
J a m e s Joyce

[SUMMER 1928]

— 26 —
 R ichard ALDINGTON

STAIRWAY OF PAII%
l>v Kielisarcl A l d i n g t o n

u n y ie ld in g
th e r e is n o w a y o u t
m o s a ic m a s k th r e a t e n s a n d la u g h s
t h a t b lo o d w a s w a s t e d
s o w e r e h is h e r s m i n e
I a l w a y s k n e w t h a t b r o u g h t th e g r a v e s t p a n g
th e r e is n o w a y o u t
w h o s a id so ? h e s a id so
no I s a id so
u p th o s e w i n d i n g s ta ir s
s o lo n g a n d te d io u s to m o u n t a lo n e
a l w a y s t h e m o s a ic m a s k
t h a t n o th in g s a y s a n d s a y s too m u c h
th e r e is n o w a y o u t
e x c e p t th e i n e v i t a b l e f i n a l p lu n g e
a n d t h a t's n o t s o o n
a n d y e t too s o o n
r o u n d a n d u p th e y w i n d
a n d up a n d ro u n d
b l i n d j e e l i n g w ith f i n g e r tip s
up a n d round
th e r e is n o w a y o u t
b u t w h y h a v e e n te r e d ?
y e s w h y h a v e e n te r e d ?
e n te r e d ? w e ll th e m a s k s a i d e n te r
s o b e a u t if u l a m a s k
I fo r g o t th e b lo o d
s o b e a u t i f u l l y s o lik e a g o d
s a i d e n te r I fo r g o t th e b lo o d
r a n s t u m b l i n g u p w a r d s too e a g e r ly
t h e n th e m a s k c h a n g e d
a n d y e s th e r e is n o w a y o u t
[FALL 1928]

— 27 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

T H E E IG H T -S H U N N IN G
PARADISE (Fra^'iiioiil)
■»v llaiiN Arp

we fire th e oracle g u n w ith th e left h a n d

we ru s tle w ith o u r cen acle leaves
we feed th e m a tu re sea-w o n d ers w ith w am pun b o n es
o ne h a s to laugh
o ne h a s to lau g h h a h a
we wipe th e a d d re s s e s from o u r lips
we b e a t o u r w ood in to c h a in s
o u r daily wood to s u s ta in o u r flesh
we sk im off th e p re c o c io u s s to n e s
one h a s to laugh
one h a s to lau g h h e h e
we w ear bagatelle sh o e s
we w rap th e a th e e th e i th e o in w ater
tu rn e d on a lath e
an d o nly th e u we leave unw rapped
we know th e fem inine a b c by h e a rt
a n n a b e rth a clara e t c
we know th a t seven is th e o p p o site of lean
an d so we lig h t a fire u n d e r th e la s t tail
th e n every th ird o n e w an ts to jo in in th re e tim es
n o r do th e o th e r two say no
no no an d n o again
one h a s to laugh
one h a s to lau g h hih i
b e c a u se we live we resem b le w atchm en
we have n o s e s to sm ell a t th e flag-poled e a se ls of love
we have e a rs to have e a rs ready to liste n
we have eyes for a m o m en t
one h a s to laugh
one h a s to laugh h o h o
we have c o u n te rm a n d e d o u r so u ls
we c u rte s y still like flesh th re e days after o u r d eath
o you heaven crying u
o you all c ru sh in g u
one h a s to weep
one h a s to weep h u h u
Translated from the German by EUGENE JOLAS.

[OCTOBER 1927]

28 —
 H ans ARP

H u ii* A i*p
Arping

H ans Arp lives in Strasbourg, where he is

constantly occupied in the curious experiments
specim ens o f which have been published in
tr a n s it io n . [October i927|

[SEPTEMBER 1027]

— 29 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

E U G E N E A T G E T
(w ill* sin E^xiii.v l»y B . J . HLo^polli)

JI a R ISIA N S P A S S IN G IN TH E S T R E E T S W E R E P U Z Z L E D A N D A L A R M E D A FEW
years ago by the strange behaviour of an old man, staggering under
the weight of a cum brous camera and tripod, who stopped before
sordid house-fronts and in obscure corners to focus h is len s on a
sh ab b y d r e s s -s u it h an gin g in front o f a sec o n d -h a n d d ea ler’s
window or a heap of tin cans and rubbish in a dirty courtyard. Near
seventy, always wearing an overcoat many siz e s too big for him,
from the long sleeves of which protruded hands bitten and burned
by p o ison ou s acids, he seem ed like a character in Balzac, intent on
the satisfaction of som e extraordinary dom inating passion. Shop­
k eep ers and oth er b ourgeois regarded him with su sp icio n , and
even the beggars and o u tc a sts with whom he fraternized were
stirred with feelin g s of co n d escen d in g pity for what th ey c o n ­
sidered h is m ental aberration. But, utterly unm oved by popular
m iscom prehension, the old man, with infinite trouble and care,
went on taking h is queer pictures and walking the streets until he
died.
Such was Eugene Atget, who has done for the Paris of our days
what the old engravers did for the Paris of the French kings and the
first revolution in fixing on their plates all its asp ects in streets and
hom es, in palaces and hovels, and it is only after h is death that we
realize the magnitude and significance of h is achievem ent.
For Eugene Atget was not a painter, nor an etcher; he was “on ly”
a photographer. It seem s singularly fitting that he should have
been nothing else, for none but a photographer can hope today to
fix for posterity the image of the modern city. Atget realised that it
was h is m ission as a photographer to replace the old engravers in
recording the Paris of h is time, for the delectation of future genera­
tio n s, and he gave h is life to h is self-im posed task ca reless of
material su c c e s s, with the result that he left behind him, assem ­
bled in a vast array of album s, the thousand plates fixing every con ­
ceivable angle of the asp ect and life of the Paris he had known.
Eugene Atget’s photographs, which I saw for the first time the

— 30 —
 E u gen e ATGET

E u g e n e A l« v <
S hopfront
 IN tr a n sitio n

other day in Berenice Abbott’s studio are an artistic revelation

q u ite apart from th eir im m en se d ocu m en tary value. S om e of
A tget’s p lates stir the im agination lik e a Daum ier etch in g or a
Lautrec lithograph; at first sight one might m istake them for re­
productions of one or the other. There is a photograph of street
m u sicians by Atget which is an absolute Daumier in technique and
conception, and one of w om en’s hats in a m o d is te ’s window might
have been drawn by Lautrec on the ston e. P ieces like this (and
there are many others among the thousands com posing Atget’s
life-work) m ust convince the m ost sceptical of the possibility of
transforming photography into a m eans of personal, artistic ex­
p ressio n . A tget was an artist, and h is album s, w hen th ey are
published, will deserve a place beside the album s of the greatest
pictorial recorders of Parisian life and m anners.
It was Atget’s ambition to make a co m p le te pictorial record of the
Paris of h is day. When he died, a year ago, over seventy years old,
he could rest satisfied that he had realized h is dream. His vast
work com prises the whole city: its architecture, its streets, its old
and historic h o u se s, its ancient sign s over crum bling doorways
and curious sh op s, the displays in its store windows, its markets
and moving crowds, the prosperous bourgeois of its boulevards
and the o u tcasts of its proletarian suburbs, even to the room s in
which they live and eat and sleep. He has a series of bourgeois
in te r io r s th at are as su g g e stiv e as a page ou t o f Flaubert or
Huysm ans, and vision s of b ro c a n te u rs and gyp sies camping on the
Paris fortifications that S teinlen would have been proud to claim
for h is own. Indeed, Atget sold many of h is photographs to painters
in search of “docum entation;” one of the first to buy was Luc-
Olivier Merson, fam ous designer of the French hundred franc note.
How many modern pictures of Paris, signed by celebrated artists,
were more or le s s directly inspired by this hum ble photographer’s
plates, will probably never be known.
Eugene Atget’s life and personality make one think of the great
Parisian artists and poets of the past. His was the sam e m isery, the
sam e seem ingly h op eless struggle against a m aterialistic world,
the sam e self-denial, invincible faith and alas! p osthum ous glory.
His, too, was, the uncom m on, existen ce that seem s inseparable
from genius. He was born at Bordeaux, and in early youth he sh ip ­
ped as a cabinboy on distant voyages. Afterwards, he was during a
great part of h is long life an actor, playing secondary roles in su b ­
urban theatres. Finding it im possible to make a living, he thought
first of learning to paint, for he knew many artists and felt the urge
to express him self pictorially; but he took up photography instead,
u sin g the cam era len s as oth ers would the brush or p en cil or

— 32 —
 E u gen e ATGET

etching needle, to fix on paper what struck h is vision. It was a

thing, so far as I know, that had never been done before; inevitably,
few people understood it.
Gazing at the fine, alm ost tragic portrait which Berenice Abbott
made of him in the la st years of h is life one seem s to se e him in-
defatigably walking the city streets, intent on perpetuating sc e n e s
on which no man before him had ever thought it worth w hile to
focus a len s. The publication of A tget’s album s, which B erenice
Abbott is aim ing to bring about, will enrich the pictorial im m ortal­
ization of Paris by a work of unparalleled variety, truth and power.

[FEBRUARY 1929]

SOME OPINIONS [1 9 2 9 ]
— Several num bers read in context perm it us a com prehensive view as to
tendency and fulfillm ent of transition which appears in Paris in English
u nder the direction of Eugene Jo la s. The m odesty with which, in the su b ­
title, th e experim ental and se a rc h in g q u alities of th is p u b lication are
em phasized, cau ses hopes for an extraordinary achievem ent. They are not
disappointed . . . W hat am azes u s a t first sight is the su rety of selection . . .
How long ago is it since the sou n d of a nam e like T ristan Tzara, tore for the
first tim e the curtain which hid from us the view into the future? Of nam es
like Lissitzky, Ray, S chw itters, G ertrude Stein? Here, too, the framework
is everything. In a bourgeois publication, made by sno b s for snobs, these
nam es would be v ie u x je u ; b u t here they are still prophetic. The philistine
d u rin g th e first m o n th s of th e w ar — la te r on he m ade it c h e a p e r —
dem anded m any ten s of th o u sa n d s of captured R ussians: the sam e appe­
tite today dem ands in every m orning new spaper, with its coffee and rolls, a
newly discovered visionary, producer or conductor. T ransition is satisfied
with the iron ration. It w ants to be w hat it indicates: a passing from one
state to an o th er . . . Why have we no reviews like th is one? Ours are alm ost
w ith o u t exception ephem eral o r dull. Nowhere th is grip w hich gath ers
w hat belongs together; now here th is charm ing fresh n ess of a good con­
science: now here th is audacity of an exquisite taste . . . How m uch have we
read about Jam es Jo y ce? We accepted him and were secretly ready to ac­
knowledge th a t we did n o t u n d erstan d him. But here S tu art G ilbert finds
the redeem ing words . . . But how could we attem pt to ren der fragm entarily
here such plenitude? . . . B ut let the reader be warned. After a few hours of
reading Transition, we apprehend in a k ind of hallucination: th at ultim ate­
ly there is nothing m ore vital, interesting, am using th an the good and the
valuable. This hallucination, of course, is ju s t as ephem eral as the one
about perpetual peace, about the future of the film, about the recurrence
of the M aecenas. But in three m onths there will be an o th er num ber of
Transition.
—Dora Sophie K eilner in Die Literarische Welt, Berlin

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 IN tr a n sitio n

RAPE AND REPINING

iv y D jd H ia lls ir n o N

Lock w indow s, b o lt doors!

Fie! W hores!

w ho ! s p r i n g a g a i n ! r a p e a g a i n ! a n d THE COCK NOT YET AT HIS

crowing! Fie, alack, ’tis Rape, yea Rape it is, an d the Hay-shock left a
’leaning! Ah, dilly, dilly, dilly, h a th T ittencote b ro u g h t forth a Girl once
again, no longer w h at she should be, b u t forever and forever of Tom or­
row, an d yet an o th e r day!
S ’bloods death! Is it right, m ’Lords? R avished an d the Cream n ot risen
in the Pan try; Ravished a n d th e W eather Fork n ot tu rn e d twice upon its
Vane. R avished an d no S ta r pricked u p o n its p o in t? Can H ounds track
h er dow n to O riginal Approval; the Law fram e her Maidenly again; the
not o ft-occurring-particular-Popish-dispensation reset her V irginal? Can
conclaves an d Hosts, Mob a n d Rabble, Stone h er back into th a t Sweet
an d Lost con d itio n ? Nay, n o r one N un going down before the down going
Candle pray h e r Neat.
A Girl is gone! a Girl is lost! A sim ple R ustic M aiden b u t Yesterday
sw ung u p o n th e P astu re Gate, w ith Knowledge now here, yet is now to­
day, no b etter th a n h e r M other, an d h e r M other’s M other before her!
Soiled! Dispoiled! Handled! Mauled! Rumpled! Rum m aged! Ransacked!
No p u re r th a n the Fish in Sea, no sw eeter th a n Bird on Wing, no cleaner
th a n B easts of E arth!
Hark! D oth th e E land crying in the Forests of the Night so tweak at
your H earts Blood, good H u sb an d m en ? H ath h eard P an th e r Howl, or
Lynx or Deer, or Fox or Owl, of su c h Deflowering? D oth any crouching,
am b u sh ed Flesh, in leash of Fur, tu rn m o aning on Clenched paw, for loss
of F ilam en t of Film ? B ew ailing w ith G rim Hackled Jow l its S easo n s
know ledge? H ath any S tag slu n k down ag ain st the Wind, loosing su ch a
difference? Nay, b u t read me arig h t, ’tis an o th er M atter this! A Girl h a th
come to M ourning, in S p rin g again. Fare forth then, w ind loud the Horn,
an d call a Spade a Spade! ’Tis Ripe tim e for it, w hen Unripe W oman falls
to Ripening! Set the Black glove by th e W hite glove, who shall say our
Ju d g e w ears not th e one or th e other, come th is tim e Nine M onths? Oh
for a digression in th a t exact duration! Come Seven, come Eleven, were
she a W anton still? D am ned she is, an d set a counting, h er Days are
num bered, an d h e r Nights are tim ed, she shall not p u t her Foot outside
of it! A Wife in Bed only, a n d all in Merrie England, and in the M onth of
May! D rab of Tittencote! (Thatched Tottencote, the Stocks tidy un d e r the
B u tter Cross!)

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 D juna BARNES

Alas! Alack! Woe is me! Rape h a s stalked abroad an d found one capable
of alteratio n . . . ’tw as ever thus! H ath the Leg draw n on the T ight Boot!
La, w hat a Wicked W akeful W aking for a Lass! T u rn backw ard, oh Time,
in thy flight! D oth Rape s it h o t am ong th e W heat; sp rin g s it u p in the
C orn? The unlaw ful, carn al knowledge of a W oman (before she w as te ac h ­
able), h as been gained, th e Lad, in th e full Legal sen se (being b u t four­
teen) incapable, b u t for all th a t a Satisfaction, a n d a Regret.
Girl, h a s t F ornicated an d becom e W anton before th y T im e? W hat Pres­
age h a d you of it? Woke you early th e M adm an’s Bell, an d h is cry of “Six
o-clock, an d all Good People to th e Brook!” Or w as your Back from the
Cradle seeking for th e Soft G rass, a n d your Neck for th e W arm A rm ? Who
told you, Hussy, to go ram p in g a t th e Bit, a n d laying ab o u t you for
T rouble? W hat th in g tak en from your F a th e r’s table tu rn e d you Belly up;
w h at Word in y our M other’s M outh set your E ars o u tw ard ? Bawd! S lat­
tern! Slut! Who gave you Rope to tu rn o n ? Slain you are of Slum ber, and
your Family Mown dow n before th a t Sw ord of Sorrow! Thy B rother weeps
am id h is diapers, a n d thy F a th e r b e h in d h is Beard! No longer h a s thy
M other Pride in th e C en tu ry old prop ocreis R e g in a e ; for th e a n n u a l ren t
paid to the Q ueen, to keep h e r in Leggings, c a n n o t m ake T ittencote
sm ack of T ittencote, a n d you gone sip p in g down to Hell!
G reat th in g s by Little are th u s b ro u g h t to D ust. F air Rome sees m en
come b u tto n in g u p h e r A ppian Way, an d a n Ass Brays over Babylon.
S tro n g N ations rise an d com e to flower u n d e r the Hee of one E m peror,
a n d are b ro u g h t low by th e Haw of th e next. And here, in th e h e a rt of ex­
cellent sm all th in g s, a C ounty over w hich no Blood h a s been shed, save
once, in a Slip of History, a Girl h a s b ro u g h t th e very R afters an d P in n a­
cles of h e r H ouse a b o u t h e r E ars, h e r one N octurnal T ear b rin g in g down
m any in the m orning.
Yet: Is it n o t a W om an’s q u ick est way of laying herself open to Legend?
For now som e say, sh e h a s W helped S ad Melancholy, a n d th a t she do ru n
a b o u t in th e N ight from Hedge to Hedge, a n d h as a look a s if th e One who
b ro u g h t h e r to G reat G rief h a d been Dead a T h o u san d years, for su ch
T hick Sorrow is given off by her, sittin g a n d stan d in g ; h er Soul sp rin g in g
from vein to vein, a H ound se n sin g a th in g n o t com m on to it, while at the
w aist a solem n silence hangs!
B ut of all th is, w h at can be said to b e tte r p urpose, th a n th a t she is
Raped, yea, H orrid Raped! Oh Beastly Stale! All the World know s no th in g
so Mad, so Daft, so Poisonous, so balm y G lut of all ill Luck! D oth n ot the
s h u d d e r of it crack th e p a in t of H istoric B eds?
E ar to th e G round, my G ossips! H ear you n o t a so u n d of it, th o u g h you
to u ch D irt a th o u sa n d m iles from Home! T his way, good Wives. Muzzles
to W indward! Is th ere n o t a S te n c h of th e m a tte r in every Breeze, blow it
E ast, West, N orth, or South! Have on, — Milling, T ram pling W rangling
m u ltitu d es. The Hare is ru n n in g an d you are well behind! She w hisks
over th e com m on, a n d you c a n n o t get scen t of her! D arted she Left or
R ight? Whom is th e m ost infallible P ointer am ong you? Mylady or h er

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S la tte rn ? ’Tis one an d the sam e, w hite Meat or dark, would you let the
Q uarry off? Lift u p your H undred Feet, an d let down your H undred, have
you not a t your Beck an d Call twice your num erical Hate, w ith w hich to
catch h er an d m ake of h er a n Exam ple? Now! Now! She falls at yonder
Ditch, an d like a Deer, tu rn s face on, weeping for Clemency. Now, have at
her!
“And how was it, my Pretty Love —Box h er Ears, the Dirty Wanton! —
an d was it com ing over th e Stile, or was it th is side of the Fence or the
o th er? How w ent he ab o u t it? Did he Lie to you. Frowsy Smelt! Said he
th a t you h ad Sweet Chops an d a W inter Eye? And you, how fared you at
th a t m om ent? Were you easily Bedabbled, or cam e you R eluctant to the
F ilthing? Backw ard looking, or leaping at th e B ait? Leaping it was, I w ar­
ra n t me, an d I’ll give my Neighbor here my second b est Rolling-Pin, and I
am not in th e Right of it! Or were you, Little Cabbage, in a state of Coma,
w herein a Man may step, th e Beggar! And find you all he would, though
now here at all Yourself. T is a Pox of a Pity th a t a W omans Wits may be as
scattered as Chaff, yet h er C hastity well enough in one place to b ring h er
to D am nation! O ut then! W hat will your M other say to this, and w hat will
you do from now on for a Life? Thou a rt less th a n a F arthing, and may be
sp en t at one Ale House. Or have you a Philosophy ready Risen for the
Deed, as some Panders, have, b u t the in s ta n t they step u p o n the stoop of
111 Fam e so th a t there be those in the M arket Place who th in k th eir Wits
are b e tte r for th e vending of th e ir Wares, th a n k s to h is Vain a n d Em pty
P rating, an d loose Rein in High Places. These several and such do shake
th e very M atrix of T ru th , an d Spaw n a th o u sa n d Lies, w hich Flood upon
u s like a Rain of S tars, b u t th o u g h m ost Gaudy Showy are no m ans Ver­
ity. Oh Fie upon you! W hat have you done, b u t m ake som e Pim pish Fel­
low a B raggart an d a N uisance in all th e S treets th a t ru n a Blind Alley.
And shall th e child. Girl or Boy, sta n d in after Years a little at the Pum p,
an d say a u g h t th a t shall C ontradict the Wry proportion of its Begetting?
T is su ch who Poison Wells, a n d m ake the Hackle rise on every Pubic
Inch, an d do split th e very Bells by w hich we tell the time!
Adder in th e G rass, Ibex on th e Peak, Fish in the Wet, Bird in the Air,
know so m eth in g of it, b u t do they w rite Books, or talk at Bedsides, or
W hisper in Galleries, or m ake the Laws? Still, Girl, su ch shall Ju d g e you,
p erchance even m ore Rigorously th a n we.
To th e Oblong Eye of th e Deer, is not your C ondition L engthened? By
the Owl is there n o t p u rch ased a Dreadful ro tu n d ity ? To the Shallow Eye
of the Fish you are b u t a little Staled, b u t to the Bossy eye of the Ox, you
may ride as High, an d D am ned as Jezebel. And w hat of the M ultitudi­
no u s Insects, an d the Infinitesim al C onclusions of th e E th e r? To the
Myriad Pupil of ihe Fly, w hat can it, b u t Manifold your G rievance? Con­
sider those yet oth ers, infirm of condition, who have Spots on the Iris, or
suffer Ja u n d ic e or Bloody Issue, would they not im pute th e ir malady to
you, saying th a t D eath settles on your Cheek, Decay Rides your Flesh?
And w hat of your own Eyes, an d you saw not the Tops of your Boots, b u t

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 D juna BARNES

the Sole? Is it not, therefore, im rative, th a t while in th e World, you con­

sider the World's Eye, a n d of how m any Facets your Crim e consists,
according to th e th in g it w alks before?
Were n ot all P hilosophies of Avoidance P enned for you? Do n ot M athe­
m atics. take th em w here you will, prove th ere is always a D eviation th a t
b rin g s dow n a Marvelously different Total, an d you h ad w ished? Has not
Science proved th a t no Bodkin takes th e R ibband b u t at will, the T hread
m akes no co n q u est of th e Needle, an d th e Needle h a s n o t a leaning to the
T h read ? Have n o t Logicians, from S enica to Plato, settled it th a t no Prop­
osition m ay come to a Head, a n d th ere be Wit for evading? Shall not a
Council of Women, su c h as we. m ake clear to you, in a S ittin g , th a t h ad
you a V ocabulary of M ovement, th e case h ad been a Riddle still, an d n ot a
certain ty ? M ust we sen d o u r Girls to School th a t they m ay learn how to
say “No” w ith fitting in to n a tio n , b o th for D ish of Porridge an d for D ish of
Love? There is a “No” w ith a “Yes” w rapped u p in it, a n d th ere is a “No”
w ith “No” enough in th e Weave, a n d we have been sorry am iss th a t o u r
Girls have n o t learned of it. Learn now a n d it is too late, Learn Yesterday,
an d To-m orrow ha d been a different daw ning. T h u s th e Bobbin F ats w ith
k n o tted T hread, an d w hen it com es to sew ing, w h at G arm ent shall be
S titch ed of it th a t shall n ot Rip in open places, an d sh am e the Leg? It is
the u n p le a sa n t N ature of M ans m in d (being w hat it is in these days) th a t
he does not, like th e A ncients, need to m agnify your deed to m ake it m ost
S tin k in g large a n d Awful!
Or p u t it th u s:
Have you not tak en th a t w hich B etter W omen have refused, an d in so
doing, been m ost u n m a n n e rly ? Is it well to G rab Sw eets th a t an H undred
G uests, at th e sam e G athering, have left u n to u c h e d , an d th u s greedily, to
Lim n th e ir S avour? You have b u t one Life, yet in one Night you have
changed the Com plexion of all N ights, th u s Pilfering from the C om m u­
nity. who have h o n o u red you as tru e coin, only to discover you C o u n ter­
feit, thereby ch an g in g a know n su m in to a su m in need of recount. Have
you not. therefore, m ade the whole of Society a Dupe, an d shall we not, for
th a t, have you in th e ju s t d ista ste we evince to the Forger? You M int w ith
your false Metal, Metal as false, so th a t from now on we m u st w atch our
C hange th a t no Lead be in it. or su c h Alloy as m ight m ake u s sadly o ut at
Pocket. You have co rru p ted th e Fabric of o u r Council by th is one brief
act; m ade of Society an u n k n o w n q u an tity , a n d th is we are not built to
bear, for th is a M an will Fury all h is Days, an d none shall com m erce w ith
you, w ith o u t first tu rn in g you over to see w here th e Die stam p s Treason!
Or p u t it th u s:
You have Stolen Tim e, su c h Time as lies Thick a b o u t Tittencote: Time
m ade sto u t by Good Wives, stitc h in g an d W ashing. B aking an d Praying.
Firm w ith H ousehold d u tie s well done w ith in th e narrow excellence of
Wedlock, paced to Monogamy, fortified w ith T em perance; m ade durable
w ith Patience. You have b e n t Tim e w ith th e Tooth of Lust, torn the Hem
of R ighteous, an d the W ind m ay e n te r a n d th e Cyclone follow.

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Or th u s:
Man is Born to Die, a n d we, w ith Fortitude, have m ade the farth est o u t­
posts of D eath a lawful Goal. B ut you, in th is W anton act, have advanced
th a t m ark, an d your Child shall, on the Day it first takes B reath, set
before th e World th e farth est point yet gained in th is m isfortune. And at
th a t H our w hen the Child cried its first Cry, will T ittencote reach a point
more d is ta n t in sorrow th a n any as yet p repaired for. As if D eath were not
Terrible enough, th is on w hich all Eyes m u st direct them selves, is a
Divided an d a B astard D eath, an d like a false M onum ent, m u st destroy,
ra th e r th a n Dignify th a t w hich it is set to Com m em orate.
T h in k you w h at th is m u st inevitably do to co rru p t a whole Body? It is
w retched enough th a t a Man m u st continually pace H imself to h is End,
tak in g M easure of h is F irst H our by folding it over u n til it touch h is Last,
like a Linen D raper th a t He m ay not be too m uch cau g h t up an d des­
poiled of his Yard, by creeping, u nw arned, u p o n its salvage; th a t the list
may not ru n u p o n him w hen he is Naked; th a t h is whole Life may not
shrivel into n a u g h t because of th e concussion of th is Last Moment.
How m u ch m ore M iserable th en , is th a t Man w ho contem plates, w ith
w hat F o rtitude he may, th e spectacle of a n o u tp o st th a t flies a n u n c ertain
E n sig n ?
Or so!
Whose Child do you H arvest? Whose F irst-B orn sp rin g s forth from your
Lap? Is he not your N eighbor’s Son h ad you clung fast to the Laws of your
C ountry? Is he not m ade Fatherless by too fast F ath erin g ? Is th is not
tu rn in g th e ju s t p roportion of G enerations B ackw ard? Does he not Ride
before h is M other, seeking h is M other? W hat N ation h as the Son first
an d th e M other second? W hat Tree sp rin g s u p before the O rchard, saying
“O rch ard , O rch ard , h ere is th e T ree!” W hat In fa n t gives B irth to its
P arents, w hat Child crawls o u t of the Cradle th a t its M other may have
w here to lay h e r H ead?
Who p la n ts th e S taff, C rook d o w n ? Who S u ck les th e W ind for a
M other? Who Combs th e Wind for a P aren t?
Who sets th e Child Backw ard u p o n th e Beast of T im e? Who m akes of
h is S o n n o Kin b u t th e T om b, no G e n e ra tio n b u t th e D ead? Nay,
B equeaths Him no Living an d no Dead, no F u tu re an d no Past. He m u st
move forw ard seeking, an d B ackw ard L am enting. He is w hirled ab out in
an U ncertainty, an d His People shall Inherit Him for a B irthright, an d His
F ath er an d His M other shall say: “We resem ble th a t hereafter w hich was
before, an d is n o t.”
Or better:
T hou a rt Witless Whey, an d should be Scourged an d Flayed, W hipped
an d Stocked, Cried again st, an d Howled over, an d sp en t quickly, th a t you
get from out o u r C ountry an d over th e border and into some Neigh­
b o u rin g Land, there to lie, u n til som e B lithering Scabby Potsherd m ends
a Stew pan w ith you, or lays you betw een Hot Iron and Hot Iron, and so
m elts you down to m ake a Cap for h is Heel. So S haken Loose, so Cut-

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 D juna BARNES

pursed, th a t th e u n c e rta in ty is o u t of you, a n d so set you back as C u rren t

Coin. So lay a b o u t you, so S cratch , Slap, Pinch, Pull, th a t you tu rn to
H onest Flesli. T h u s, to come to th e very Pip an d Core of T ru th , th ro u g h
Good W omen’s R easoning —th o u g h to th a t faculty no credence h as been
given by Philosopher or S cribe adow n th e very Ageless Ages - to m ake of a
Point no Point on w hich to Haggle, th a t indeed no Wits be sp e n t on you,
no candle b u rn e d to a Wick in A ttics an d Dens, by Grizzled B eard an d
S hiny Pate; throw Lots for you betw een us, to determ in e to w hich of u s
you shall fall, th ere tr u s t to th a t Pity w hich p a sse th H u m an U n d erstan d ­
ing - w hich God forbid we sh o u ld have h ereabouts! - a n d so m ake of you
w h at we will, now, th a t you have Filched w hat you Would. And I myself
ask no b ette r Portion th a n th a t you sh o u ld fall to me, for th e n sh o u ld all
Eyes behold th e Bone of T ru th , th e Marrow of Ju stice! For I’d have all
D estruction in you well D estroyed before th e S trik in g of a n o th e r Mid­
n ig h t Bell!”
Or thus!
It is S p rin g a g ain , Oh L ittle O ne th e W aters m elt, a n d th e E a rth
divides, a n d th e Leaves p u t forth, a n d th e H eart sin g s dilly, dilly, dilly! It
is Girls W eather, an d Boys Luck!

[DECEMBER 1927]

SOME OPINIONS [1 9 2 9 ]
— Plom er is probably the b e st novelist in South Africa today. D.H. Law­
rence in England, and Sherwood A nderson in America are the very b est
w riters produced by th o se co u n tries recently; and as to Paris, is it n eces­
sary to say th a t alm ost all th a t is good, in formal tendency, or in actual
achievem ent, as eith er painting or writing, (and there is n o t m uch) is to be
found here and th e re betw een th e covers of T ra n sitio n ? You may n o t
accept this as tru e b u t it is w hat I believe and it is upon th a t basis th a t I am
a rg u in g . . .
- Wyndham Lewis in The E nem y.

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 IN tr a n sitio n

NEW ORLEANS LETTER

l»v H a m ilt o n ISsikm >

D EAR j o l a s :
I’ve just come home and it’s pretty late. I had intended to come home
right after work and write this letter to you but I went to eat breakfast at
Gluck’s with Delos Smith and we had a long argument about New Orleans.
Smith loves New Orleans much more than I do. That’s because he’s an im­
migrant from Missouri and is impressed by the French Quarter. I'm a
native and not at all impressed by the French Quarter. In the days of its
decay, when all the houses were ramshackle and falling down —like the
one in which Sherwood Anderson used to live —I used to think it one of the
lovliest places in the world but now they’ve started to preserve it and I see
it only as another indication of the American self-consciousness that is
coming over us.
It’s all the fault of immigrants like Smith. I sometimes think of them as a
flaxon flood, coming from the north and the east and the west, from Kan­
sas, from Pennsylvania, from Iowa, Goths and V isigoths waving the
American flag. They’ve changed us.
Before they came we didn’t give a damn about anything. Life was very
simple and ordinary. We were provincial and proud of it. We lived our own.
lives and minded our own business. Other people could do as they pleased.
All that is being changed. We have been made to salute the flag. We are in
just the same position, I imagine, that Europe is in today. Only here it is a
fulfilment rather than a threat. You wouldn’t know the place anymore.
Skyscrapers have been built, streets have been paved, new lights have been
put up and the state militia has raided the gamblers. We’ve become self­
conscious, just as the rest of America is self-conscious.
Matthew Josephson, in transition no. 14, didn’t say anything about it but
I can’t rid myself of the belief that to this state of national mind, more than
anything else, can be traced the downfall of A1 Smith. I ask you, Mr. Jolas,
as one man who is proud of his country to another, could we have a man
like that meeting the Piince of Wales? Could we have him advising our
children to get their early training in the Fulton Fish Market? Could we
have Mrs. Sm ith’s picture in the London Times? The first lady of the
United States? Of course not.
Delos Smith doesn’t agree with me about New Orleans. He wouldn’t. He’s
too self-conscious him self and besides that h e’s an immigrant and a senti­
m entalist. The thing I talk about is not apparent on the surface. It is
millions of miles deep. You feel it more than you see it. And if you hadn’t

— 40 —
 H am ilton BASSO

lived here all your life you wouldn’t even feel it. Anyway, if you ever think
of coming back, come back soon. It won't be the same place in ten years.
Take my word for it.
John McClure and I talked for a long time last night. We talked about a
great many things but mostly about how disgusted we were with literature.
There is a good reason for our disgust. Everybody we know talks about
literature. Even the waiters in Gluck’s talk about literature. I went to see a
reporter who works on the paper who was arrested and put in jail for
embezzling $ 1 7 6 ,0 0 0 from a Los Angeles bank two years ago and the first
thing he did was to talk about literature. With murderers and thieves and
dope-peddlers all around him, men waiting in cells to be hung, he started
talking about literature. Jesus!
You know, when I think of a whole world going about with the smudge of
typewriter ribbon on its fingers, I become so ashamed I want to go off
somewhere and hide. I become ashamed of my own smudged fingers. I
become ashamed of the book I have written and all the books I want to
write. I become ashamed even of the thoughts I think. If I were half-way
logical I should never write another line.
Take the crowd in the French Quarter for instance —the ones who sit
around the book-shops and swap ideas. They make me feel as though I
ought to hurry home and take a bath. Possibly there is some genuine work
being done, some sincere emotion being felt, but if so I am sure it is being
done and felt in an obscure garret that nobody knows about. Now they’ve
started a magazine and a publishing company. The magazine is called The
Quarter and the publishing company is the Provincial Press. They’ve had
one decent thing in the magazine thus far. A slight poem Louis Gilmore
wrote about five years ago.
The Provincial Press has just issued its first publication, a book of poems
by John Fineran. Fineran, whom I don't know, comes under the classifica­
tion of a worthy young man. I thought his poems were exceptionally bad,
derivative from all the sweet English voices, but he does show a certain
measure of unrest and rebellion. Most of his faults, McClure says, may be
condoned because of his youth. That might be all right for Fineran but I
don’t think youth is an excuse for poor poetry. I'm still very young myself,
going through the process of feeling youth very keenly, but I think I’d
vomit if anybody said I was a promising young writer. If what I do is bad it
should be called bad. There is too damned much appreciation anyway.
We’ve got another poet here too. He is typical of the people who mess up
the French Quarter. He’s publishing his book of poems himself. The title of
his book is “ J u s i Thoughts.” Isn’t that cute? Isn’t that ju st too god­
damned cute?
You think I’m suffering from a sour stomach? Then also think of a guy
like that, who ran an “ inspirational” column in an Alabama newspaper,
leading whatever revolt there is. Think of his army sitting around before a
picture of Thornton Wilder. I don’t want to be dismal. I’m not snarling in a
com er like a dog with fleas. I'd almost give an arm to write of agony and
torment, of young men and women spitting at skyscrapers, dancing about a
bonfire of Cabell and Mencken and Sinclair Lewis.

— 41 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

There are young men and women like that. They are working in factories
and stock-yards, writing obids for newspapers and ads for ladies under­
wear. We know nothing of them as yet because they haven’t found their
voice. They are working and suffering in silence, afraid, hesitant, ashamed.
But they won’t be silent forever. There will be torches in the windows and
screams in the streets. This sort of thing can’t last forever. But give us
time. Just give us time.

Hamilton B asso.
[FEBRUARY 1929]

SOME OPINIONS [1 9 2 9 ]
I always read the m agazine transition faithfully. It is now trying to crys­
tallize its esth etic viewpoint: recently it published a proclam ation. “The
im agination in search of a fabulous world is autonom ous and unconfined” ,
is one of the th eses. Yet when I examine the products of their fabulous
world, I u n d erstan d tliese b u t too well. A m an’s dream s and fantasies are as
real as his waking life; both are an organic whole. The fantasies of the tran­
sitio n w riters are n o t au to n o m o u s. They are m ainly horror-dream s of
world catastrophe, disgust, and destruction. Their "real” world is falling
down; b u t they will confess it only in dream s . . . One does not need to
create through dream s. Reality is more m iraculous, more terrific, more
satisfying a m aterial. It is the great exciting tru th in which we all live. Time
and space were given u s to mould; this is the great art J a n e Heap dream s
about. The world is o u r w orkshop; th a t is w hat th e Social Revolution
m eans: collective arts shaping the world. It is coming fast; it will change
em pires, cities, w orkers, a rtis ts , g an g sters, children, m achines, rivers,
cows and geniuses; organize everything into new conscious fabulous art.
History up to now has been an uncontrolled animal dream . . .
- Michael Gold in the New M asses.
 Sam u el BECKETT

JJIA I^ A C O D A

b y N s iin iie l l l e o k e l l

thrice he cam e
the undertaker’s man
im passible behind h is scutal bowler

to m easure
is he n ot paid to m easure
th is incorruptible in the vestibule
this m alebranca knee-deep in the lilies
Malacoda knee-deep in the lilies
M alacoda for all the expert awe
that felts h is perineum m utes h is signal
sighing up through the heavy air
m ust it be it m ust be it m ust be
find the w eeds engage them in th e garden
hear sh e may se e sh e need not

to coffin
w ith assistant ungulata
find the w eeds engage their attention
hear sh e m ust see sh e need not

to cover
to be sure cover cover all over
your targe allow m e hold your sulphur

divine dogday glass set fair

stay Scarm ilion stay stay
lay th is H uysum on the box
m ind th e im ago it is he
hear she m ust see sh e m ust
all aboard all so u ls
half-m ast aye aye

nay

(JUNE 1936]

— 43 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

E K U E G I I

■tv NainiHi Itcckelt

world world world world

and the face grave
cloud against the evening

de morituris nihil nisi

and the face crumbling shyly

too late to darken the sky
blushing away into the evening
shuddering away like a gaffe

veronica m undi
veronica m unda
give us a wipe for the love o f J e su s

sweating like Judas

tired o f dying
tired o f policem en
feet in marmalade
perspiring profusely
heart in marmalade
sm oke more fruit
the old heart the old heart
breaking outside congress

doch I assure thee

lying on O’Connell Bridge
goggling at the tulips o f the evening
the green tulips
shining round the corner like an anthrax
shining on G uinness’s barges

the overtone the face

too late to brighten the sky
doch doch I assure thee

[JUNE 1936]

— 44 —
 Sam u el BECKETT

i» o ! e r m \m :ic
B»v NainiHi llcTkrtl

I n t h e m a g ic t h e h o m e r d u s k
past the red spire o f sanctuary
I null sh e royal hulk
hasten to the violet lamp to the thin K’in m usic
o f the bawd.
She stands before m e in the bright stall
su stain ing the jade splinters
the scarred signaculum o f purity quiet
the eyes the eyes black till the plagal east
shall resolve the long night phrase.
Then, as a scroll, folded,
and the glory o f her dissolu tion enlarged
in m e, Habbakuk, mard o f all sinners.
Schopenhauer is dead, the bawd
puts her lute away.

[JUNE 1936]

— 45 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

E N T IT Y

b y l*snul IS<m k ‘s

jf H E IN T IM A C Y O F S P IR A L S H A S B E C O M E S T O N E T O HIM. TH IS IS IN R E A L IT Y
o n ly th e la s t p r a y e r urge. A s it is, a ll th e c rim so n o f s ta m p s h a s re­
s o lv e d in to lo o p s. T h e s e f o l d u p a n d s e e k s o u n d s b e y o n d lim e
rin d s.
L et it not b e u n d e r sto o d th a t th e f r e n z i e d fin g e r s w e re h e re w is h ­
ing u s to le a v e . It w a s o n ly th a t h e w e n t a w a y a n d s h e lls retu rn ed .
A n urn o f d is g u s t c a n n o t sto p u p th e p o re s f o r th e y a re a fte r h is
c re a se s o f in te llig e n c e . Or, let u s s a y , i f o n e e n d w e re ru b b e d b lu e
a n d a ll e d g e s left g re e n w e s h o u ld h a v e a p le a s in g effect. B u t a ll
th is is u n c e rta in . O n e d o e s not f e e l th e im p e ra tiv e q u a litie s so o n
b e c a u s e b e h in d la p e ls th e re a re b u tto n s o f u n rest.
E ra d ic a te , if y o u c a n , th e a d a p ta b ility o f m y n a tu r e to jo y . It is
o u r h e rita g e , th is a b a n d o n e d cerise; — p e r h a p s th e o n ly o n e w e
h a v e left. T h e s te e l o f n o w c a n n o t b e r o u n d e d lik e letters o f th e
s y s te m in to la u g h in g h o rd e s o f m is u n d e r s ta n d in g . W e c a n n o t p e r­
m it th e s e u n flin c h in g b o n e s to p erfo rm s u c h ele g ies. T h e re m a y be
a b y s m s in o u r fin g e r s . T h e re m a y b e f a ls e h o o d s a b o u t p o n d s . L a st
w e e k o ccu rred a s tr a n g e ste p . P a ra d ise s ta lk e d , a n d s e iz in g a tro m ­
b o n e f r o m th e w a ll, s t u m b l e d . In th is w a y a ll s u c h m a r g in s
w eaken.
C a n y o u not a ll d isc o v e r h o w e n n u i w ill creep th u s ? T h e re is no
object in s u c h flig h t. M a s se s h a v e p o w e r.
A t a n y rate, I s h a ll n o t h a v e p a n te d e n tire ly b e y o n d borders o f
lim p n e s s . O ur s y c a m o r e s n e e d repose. Is it p o s s ib le th a t e v e r w e
s h a ll b e a b le to tra ce o u r r e sp o n sib ilitie s to s u c h c o m m a n d s ? We
c a n n o t ignore s u c c e s s fu lly th e ca ll o f fe a th e r s . W e m u s t h e e d s o m e ­
w h a t b ristles. A s it is, w e a re n o t e n tir e ly b e y o n d a lu m in u m fe n c e s .
T h is is th e re a so n f o r h is d ia lo g u e . T h e origin o f p o w e r is e v e r y ­
w h e re .
I f a n y s u c h e n m ity is d isc o v e re d let u s d isc a rd o u r y a w n in g .
T h e s u s c e p tib ility o f e m o tio n a lis m to u n g u a r d e d c a v e s m a y b e
r e a d ily r e a liz e d b y a ll o f us. H is s m ile s f a l l s lo w ly in to ja r s o f p o rce ­
la in . E v e n i f h is p a in p e r s is ts , a ll th e s e lo sing fo r c e s d isc o v e r th e ir
p o sitio n s.

— 46 —
 Paul BOWLES

A rubber is black. T h e eternal verities are not. In this effigy w e

m a y d iscern a long boulevard. L ea ves o js u c h ten d en c ies s h a ll im ­
p a le him . a n d h e w ill be certain to rem ain p o ise d over la v e n d e r
pebb les.
T h e im m u ta b ility o f sp h eres is constant. All a b o u t us are car­
ca sse s o j p la n e ts. W hirling co n tin u es a short w h ile. Close her ey e s
a n d fold h er h a n d s above. We are rea d y fo r th e treatise on h exa g o ­
n a l tiles.
W hen all s h a ll h a v e b een im m e rse d in brass, it w ill be e a sily
recognized. O nly th en s h a ll the grain o f the p e lt be h e ld b y f u n d a ­
m e n ta l h a n d s. T h e o n ly te n se is the fu tu r e a n d fu tility is ta k e n fo r
g ranted.
[SUMMER 1928]

DELICATE SONG
b y P a u l Ifiow los

I 1
T WAS A LONG T R IP BACK.

W hite lilie s w aved by w alls.

T he sw eat from b lu e grap es
S h on e lik e g la s s g lo b u les.
A w in d blow n str a ig h t from th e harbor
B ru sh ed th e lo n g g r a s s ca reiessly .
I su p p o se th o u g h t o f th e harbor
A nd o f how it lo o k ed w ith it s b lue w ater
A nd it s sa ilb o a ts m oving

II
B u t even th o u g h th e w ind sm elt o f th e w aves
A nd o f th e sw am p g r a ss n earer
Our th o u g h ts w ere o f th e road .

III
F lu te s are sc a rc er th e se d ays
A nd flu tis ts are u n sk ille d .
The w h ite lilie s w ere b y w alls.

[JUNE 1930]

— 47 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

V A C A T IO N -T IM E

U y K a y Ifioyle

i WAS W ALKING AROUND LIKE A NUT IN THE ST R E E T S A FTER THE TRAIN HAD
gone off, and the black was all running down my face from my eyes. I
was going like a crazy-woman from one place to another thinking that
tonight I m ust get into som ething deeper, the eyes full, the m outh full,
to be sunk in it, to wallow like a sow. What good would it do to drink if
to go hom e to that place em pty of any sound. A good deal o f your
violence is not I thought. The trouble with you is.
I w ent into one place where there was a man I knew at the bar drink­
ing and I sat talking for a long tim e to this man I knew. I was listening
to him talking with my eyes rocking in my head and when I had a lot to
drink I said I ju st sent my little girl off to the south I said. He was a
Jew ish fellow, fat like a mother, and he sat nodding his head. That's
too bad he said. Yes, I could believe very m uch in som ething I said I
could believe in som ething but what it is I cannot explain. I am seeing
that to be a believer you are to be blinded to your own satisfaction. You
cannot believe and see clear at the sam e tim e. What about your religion
I said I’ve tucked it away he said and taking som ething to drink in the
place o f it. I shall persist I said I shall persist in my belief in the spring
in spite o f the mud the eternal because o f the m oss gone soft under the
so les o f my feet I shall believe in the chicken-dirt the cow-flops the
sow ’s battle ground lousy with hoofs. I am convinced o f the impor­
tance in sm elling out the snouting out the m om ent I am at present as
sufficient as anyone w ithout a philosophy.
And am I now gentlem en we ourselves seeking to outwit the interior
to ravage the exterior I am not able to sit hom e in intellectual quiet I
am beginning to get tired o f what is sensitive unable to acclim atize I
am for the gay the biddy a great thing it is to roll hom e in the furnace of
anybody’s m outh blasting rust like wine all night and no sleep but the
brain too going hot as a black bottom.
but then the m orning gentlem en oh the morning with the long sad
face the black eyes crooked in the mirror the rouge standing up like an
army oh beauty not lovely enough or strong enough som eday I’ll give
you a piece o f my mind and it’ll be a great gift to you
I prefer the heart winging across the pillow out into the garden. How
flat the clo u d s lie on m ornings like th e se w hen I rem em ber other
m ornings other clouds riding the wind o f the last breath of do you see
the light in the window the dawn has com e over Monte Carlo isnt it too
lovely lovely and he answered me I can’t hear you the cocaine is ring­
ing too loud in my ears

— 48 —
 Kay BOYLE

were those his last words to you

no there were more
and w hich my lovely strained-eyed lady pull your gaze out o f the
mirror for five m inutes and answer the district gendarmerie. His last
words to me were harsh on es I can not b iin g m yself to repeat them here
before all th ese unm elting hearts have m elted. He said I cannot hear
you the cocain e
Did he am plify that statem ent
Yes he said that the cocaine was ringing like. She hung her head and
said she did not rem em ber. We m ust have the scen e arrange itself cher
with dawning yawning over M onte Carlo and the Sister o f Mercy draw­
ing her wet thum b along her head-dress pleats and the bags o f oxygen
deflated in the corner. What were his last words Mrs. Stick-in-the-M ud
He did not draw h im self up to h is full height as a poet he sagged in
the middle there was a bright fan o f red velvet fluttering from his
m outh and he was saying speak louder for Christ’sake the cocaine is
ringing like hell in my head
I looked into the bottom o f my glass o f and I murmured to the soft
blue clouds o f gin I too I too should have spat my way to heaven with
him
I said I am going hom e
[FALL 1928]

ON THE RUN
Irv llo y le

T H E L IT T L E A L P S W E R E B A K E D D R Y A N D T H E G R A S S O N T H E M W A V ED IN
J u n e lik e a slo w fire a lo n g th e rails. T h e se little m o u n ta in s ran in a
sharp se a in th e w in d o w s and th e sm o k e from th e e n g in e tw isted in
in stron g w h ite ro p es th ro u g h th e car. H e o p en ed h is m o u th to say
“ S t. A n d re-les-A lp es” an d w h en h e had o p e n e d it th e sm o k e cam e
in and filled it w ith b itte r n e ss. A s th e train sto p p ed a so ft p ink tide
o f p igs ro se o u t o f th e statio n -y a rd and ran in u n d er th e w h e e ls o f
th e w agon. T he c r e st o f little alp s w as b u rn in g a c r o ss th e ro o fs o f
th e tow n , w ith th e dry cru m b lin g finger o f th e c h u r c h lifted and th e
sk y gaping w h ite and h o t u p o n d ecay.
He lay dow n o n th e b ed in th e h o te l and w h en th e b o n n e cam e to
th e d o o r h e s a t up q u ic k ly a n d lit a cig a r e t. H e ta lk ed to h er,

— 49 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

sm iling, moving h is hands, with his eyes insisting that she under­
stand him. He wanted pigs* feet grilled in batter and breadcrumbs.
He insisted with his hands moving to convince her o f the natural
beauty of h is hunger. A sick man would not want pigs’ feet grilled
in batter and breadcrumbs. She answered him shaking her head
that they were not this tim e o f the year as if they sprang up like
seeds in the garden. She nodded sternly, seein g that he was dying.
“ Later,” she said, “ later...”
Get her out o f here he said I am going to cough Christ is this
where the death will get me take the cigaret and when I cough walk
around the room and sing or som ething so they w on’t hear me
The bonne cam e back to them saying that the washer-woman had
so m uch work to do that she couldn’t take in their laundry this
summer. “ Here’s your laundry back,” said the bonne, “ because
the washerwoman has so m uch work.” “What?” said he. “ What?”
The alps were closed like dry fists and the grass burned up to the
window. “ My God,” he said, ‘ w e’ll clear out o f here. Saint Andre-
les-A lpes what a hole. I’ll com e back and haunt you. I’ll eat your
heart out Saint-Andre I’ll curse and rot y o u .”
If there were a nice fine cold now to tighten up whatever it is
shaking around in me hop around the room now and sing to keep
them from hearing me a tight cold now pulling me together to say
to them
The bonne cam e back to say that the shoem aker had so m uch
work to do now that he cou ldn ’t tou ch their sh oes for them . The
m ountain-trains were scream ing like cats at the window. We’re
awfully near the railway anyway he said. If I laugh too m uch at he
said my girl you don’t understand the Irish until the sun kills me
I’ll be here none of your washwom en or your shoem akers if there
were a fine tight cold to pull me together now he said I’d get out of
here faster than the pigs hitting the dust get her out of the room he
said I’m going to cough
The bonne cam e back to say that the proprietor the woman luxu­
riously in m ourning for her entire family bereaved in the fu llness
o f m iddle-age would speak with Madame. Bereaved in the full sal­
low o f h er ch eek s bereaved and th e tom b ston es rising p olitely
polished with discreet sorrow bereaved and remem bered with bub­
bles o f jet frosted on her bosom s and m ourned under waves of
hem m ed watered crepe. I have mourned people for years and years
this is the way it is done.
She stood in the stairpit with her eyes starting out o f her you ’ll
have your bread and your butter and your coffee Madame when
y ou ’ve talked to me. “ Come in h ere,” she said. “ Finish to en ter.”
The sw eet sorrow o f the crucifix faced them the rosary hanging

— 50 —
 Kay BOYLE

like false-teeth on the bed-stead the sacred sm ile the Christ bled
with artistry in the w ell-rounded arms o f the Virgin. “ M adame,”
she said w ithout any hesitation, “your husband cannot die h ere,”
sh e said, “ we are not prepared for death .”
He sat up on the bed w hen he heard her com ing back down the
hall and he said what do you leave me for y ou ’ve been gone a
hundred years is she being rude to you? I called her a bitch he said
keep your tem per please keep it it worries me w hen you slam the
door
“ Saint-Andre,” he said into the pillow, “ I’m a sick man. I’m
afraid. This tim e I’m afraid to go o n .”
You you afraid listen here packing th e bags again th e hairy-
legged brushes pointed am poules as beautiful as earrings bottles of
ergotine and striped pajamas w e’re going on som ew here else and
have p igs’ feet grilled and cham pagne and peaches with flam es run­
ning on them th is hole dries the guts in you do you remem ber
M enton last February and everytim e you read Umbra the cabinay
flushed may the Gods speak softly o f us in days hereafter
and the very sm all sausages for breakfast at the Ruhl
Saint-Andre-les-A lpes yo u ’re a perfectly ordinary piss-pot
With a blue eye painted in the bottom o f it
Fit only to be put in a cheap room under the bed
With education refinem ent and all the delicate belly-aches
H ere’s to bigger and better p igs’ feet
Keep on keep on keep on he said maybe I’m going to bleed

[JUNE 1929]

MADE IN BOHEMIA [1927]

“A Montparnasse group headed by Elliot Paul is emitting a review
named tra n sitio n which contains contributions by almost everybody
in the Who’s Who of Montparnasse.”
Portland (Ore.) Journal.

— 51 —
 IN tra n sitio n

LETTER TO
AKCHIBALD C11tAlCi
b y l i a y H o y le

H E R E IS ONE CO U N TR Y
and no shame to it
For having a heart h ot in the bosom
or songs in the m outh humming
That servant-girls sing at their dishes
Wherever the men o f it are
Are the laughter and the sorrowing
o f their own land
And whenever a stranger speaks
it is a sad word he is saying

The rich coins sing in the hands o f them

But whether it is \I am deaf now
Or whether it is I am blinded
By the thought o f the dead
rank in m y eyes even
I am weary
for speech like new cress in the river
I am sick for a sight o f him
for when m y tears fall

II

I ask more o f this season

Than leaves seeking the ground
birds guiding the wind south
or a deerstep sw ept clean for winter

- 52 —
 Kay BOYLE

No le st things
fingers o f stars pointing
out steps on the wet grass
the moon ringing the hay-bells
the frogs crying
upon what a m outh said or rem em bered

Or the eyelids o f one town lifting

No answer
From fields struck dumb with frost
But a n ew season bloom ing
a new h isto ry o f feast-days
For a you n g man who died one autumn

III

I f I thought
this is the way I ’d be
waiting i f the door
le t him in
lock o f hair blown on the ro o m ’s face
I ’d be com bing it
back o f m y ears if I
thought h e ’d be growing up in the glass
this is the way m y legs
crossed and m y hands
ly in g
I f I thought I could
see him m ake sugars fly
up his cuffs after dinner find
potatoes h o t in the d o g s’ ears
i f I thought I could
hear the thin bark o f
his shoes on the gravel this is the way
m y eyes waiting
and m y heart crying until
I be dead with him.

[SUMMER 1*328)

53 —
 IN tra n sitio n

THE UNITED STATES

(fo r H 'illia n i ( 1a i i o ^ W illiam **)

b y K a y B o y le

J* V O T A L A N D , O R LIK E O T H E R L A N D S , WITH T R E E S COM IN G O U T A N D

the g r a s s grow ing,
Or o f w a te rs sh rivelin g in the w ind like the f a c e s o f old
wom en;
But h ow ever the body tu rn s there are d a y s w hen the blood in
the vein s even
F low s to the north s ta r s f o r w arm th like the cold blood o f a
co m p a ss,
And n igh ts w ith the birch m oon drifting cold a s M aine w ater,
A nd the p le ia d e s running like s n ip e s 'fe e t on the rivers.
But w h a tever yo u a s k e d o f it, not th e seek in g or the fin d in g o f
yo u r ow n kind
But the Indian, th e sile n t w a y s o f the old m en yo u were
askin g;
D a y s w ith th e su n worn thin a s a c o o n ’s skin , deep creek s
‘

w here sa lm o n took th e fa lls ,

Com ing to tim ber tow n s, the fro n tier, a n d to England,
To barn s w here yo u r gra n d m o th er d a n ced w ith her lovers,
w ith her you n g h eels sh inin g like w h ite a p p les in the
dark;
A skin g o f h isto ry on e E n glish m an not w atch in g his ow n
sh a d o w ,
Singing a f a ls e note, lim ping: one E n glish m an blind, naked,
hum m ing it o u t o f tune,
To g ive yo u a ta s te f o r h o rse-sh o es a n d the w h ite e y e s o f
m iners;
W hatever yo u a sk e d o f it, not the m ou n tain -kids o f oth er
cou n tries,

— 54 —
 Kay BOYLE

To ju m p through the J la m e s o f bonfires, or the g o a ts to return

fro m the hills,
Running on th eir bla ck h oojs to sn u ff the su g a r from you r
p a lm s;
Nor q u e stio n s to tick le a n d f lu tte r th e s tiff w in gs o j the g o a ts ’
e a rs
As th e y titte r to g eth e r a n d slid e th eir c o a rse e y e s in th eir
fa c e s ;
Nor to g o b ack into the h ills a n d to s e e them , the b e a s ts
stru c k dum b in th e bush,
T en tative, w ith th eir e y e s in th e d a rk n e ss like the lig h ts o f
ta ll h ou ses,
A nd th eir to n g u e s ta stin g th e s w e e t night, a n d th eir horned
tee th crunching th e th ick lea v e s o f sum m er,
Nor th e o w ls cryin g so ftly in the rain .

But to go back, to g o b ack to a n o th e r cou n try, to go b ack

A nd to s a y fro m here I ca n s e e it;
Here a n d here a le a f opening, here th e cherry-gum dripping,
H ere a str e a m broken through, here a n d here a n d here a
h orse run wild.

[SUMMER 1928]

— 55 —
 IN tra n sitio n

C 1o ii* is n itiii K i*siiicu*i

Photo o f His S tu d io
[taken by the artist]

UUNE 1929]
 G eorges BRAQUE

Geoi*0r£ Ifintqiie
N ature Morte

[JUNE 1929]

— 57 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

CneorggeN Rtrstquc
N ature Morte

[JUNE 1929]

— 58 —
 B ob BROWN

THE READIES
b y l lo l ) B n m i i

T HE WORD •READIES •SUGGESTS TO ME A MOVING TYPE SPECTACLE, READING

at the speed rate of the day with the aid of a machine, a method of enjoying
literature in a manner as up-to-date as the lively talkies. In selecting “The
Readies" as title for what I have to say about modem reading and writing I
hope to catch the reader in a receptive progressive mood, I ask him to for­
get for the moment the existing medievalism of the BOOK (God bless it, it’s
staggering on its last leg and about to fall) as a conveyor of reading matter,
I request the reader to fix his mental eye for a moment on the ever-present
future and contemplate a reading machine which will revitalize this in­
terest in the Optical Art of Writing.
In our aeroplane age radio is rushing in television, tomorrow it will be a
com m onplace. All the arts are having their faces lifted, painting (the
modems), sculpture (Brancusi), music (Antheil), architecture (zoning law),
drama (Strange Interlude), dancing (just look around you tonight) writing
(Joyce, Stein, Cummings, Hemingway, transition). Only the reading half of
Literature lags behind, stays old-fashioned, frumpish, beskirted. Present-
day reading methods are as cumbersome as they were in the time of Caxton
and Jimmy-the-Ink. Though we have advanced from Gutenberg's movable
type through the linotype and monotype to photo-composing we still con­
sult the book in its original form as the only oracular means we know for
carrying the word mystically to the eye. Writing has been bottled up in
bocks since the start. It is time to pull out the stopper.
To continue reading at today’s speed I must have a machine. A simple
reading machine which I can carry or move around and attach to any old
electric light plug and read hundred thousand word novels in ten minutes
if I want to, and I want to. A machine as handy as a portable phonograph,
typewriter or radio, compact, minute, operated by electricity, the printing
done microscopically by the new photographic process on a transparent
tough tissue roll which carries the contents o f a book and is no bigger than
a typewriter ribbon, a roll like a miniature serpentine that can be put in a
pill box. This reading film unrolls beneath a narrow magnifying glass four
or five inches long set in a reading slit, the glass brings up the otherwise
unreadable type to comfortable reading size, and the reader is rid at last of
the cumbersome book, the inconvenience of holding its bulk, turning its
pages, keeping them clean, jiggling his weary eyes back and forth in the
awkward pursuit of words from the upper left hand com er to the lower
right, all over the vast confusing reading surface of a page.

— 59 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

Extracting the dainty reading roll from its pill box container the reader
slips it smoothly into its slot in the machine, sets the speed regulator,
turns on the electric current and the whole, 100,000; 200,000; 300,000
or million words, spills out before his eyes and rolls on restfully or rest­
lessly as he wills, in one continuous line of type, its meaning accelerated
by the natural celerity of the eye and mind (which today are quicker than
the hand); one moving line of type before the eye, not blurred by the pres­
en ce o f lin es above and below as they are confusingly placed on a
columned page.
My m achine is equipped with controls so the reading record can be
turned back or shot ahead, a chapter reread or the happy ending anticipat­
ed. The magnifying glass is so set that it can be moved nearer to or farther
from the type, so the reader may browse in 6 points, 8, 10, 12, 16 or any
size that suits him. Many books remain unread today owing to the un­
suitable size of type in which they are printed. A number of readers cannot
stand the strain of small type and other intellectual prowlers are offended
by Great Primer. The reading machine allows free choice in type-point, it is
not a fixed arbitrary bound object but an adaptable carrier of flexible, flow­
ing reading matter. Master-compositors have impressed upon apprentices
for years that there is no rubber type. Well, now that the reading machine
exists with a strong glass to expand to contract the size of letters, com­
positors can’t ding on that anymore.
The machine is equipped with all modem improvements. By pressing a
button the roll slows down so an interesting part can be read leisurely, over
and over again if need be, or by speeding up, a dozen books can be
skimmed through in an afternoon without soiling the fingers or losing a
dust wrapper. Taken at high gear ordinary literature may be absorbed at the
rate of full length novels in half hours or great pieces of writing may be re­
read in half lifetimes. The underlying principle of reading remains un­
affected, merely its scope is enlarged and its latent possibilities pointed.
To save the labor of changing rolls or records, a clip of a dozen assorted
may be put in at one time and automatically fed to the machine as phono­
graph discs are changed at present. The Book of the Day or Book of the
Hour Club could sell its output in clips of a dozen ready to slip into the
reading machine. Maybe a book club called the Dozen A Day would result.
Reading by machinery will be as simple and painless as shaving with a
Schick razor and refills could be had at corner drug stores or telephone
booths from dawn to midnight.
With the present speeding up o f publishing a m achine is needed to
handle the bulk and cut down the quantity of paper, ink, binding and
manual labor wasted in getting out massive books.
The material advantages of my reading machine are obvious, paper sav­
ing by condensation and elimination of waste margin space which alone
takes up a fifth or a sixth of the bulk of the present-day book. Ink saving in
proportion, a much smaller surface needs to be covered, the magnifying
glass multiplies the ink at no additional cost, the ratio is one part ink to ten
parts magnifier. Binding will be unnecessary, paper pill boxes are produced
at a fraction of the cost of cloth cases. Manual labor will be minimized.

- 60 —
 Bob BROWN

Reading will be cheap and independent of advertising which today carries

the cost of the cheap reading matter purveyed exclusively in the interests
of the advertiser.
All that is needed to modernize reading is a little imagination and a high
powered magnifying glass. The Lord’s Prayer has been printed in type an
inch high with illuminated initials as long as your nose and bound in plush
elephantine folios; also it has been etched on the head of a pin. Personally
I should have been better pleased if Anthony Trollope had etched his three
volume classics on the head of a pin. Maybe no more trilogies will be writ­
ten when Readies are the vogue. Anyway, if they are, they may be read at
one sitting.
By photographic composition, which is rapidly taking the place of anti­
quated methods, type since 1925 has been turned out which is not read­
able without the aid of a magnifying glass. The English August-Hunter
Camera Composing Machine fired the first gun in this revolution five years
ago. Experiments with diamond tvpe, like the old Chiswick Press Shake­
speare Complete in one and miniature books o f the 64m o Clubs have
already shown what a multitude of words can be printed in a minimum of
space and yet be readable to the naked eye. Even Cicero mentioned having
seen a copy of the Iliad no bigger than a fingernail. Publishers of our day
have perfected Oxford Bibles and compressed all of the short stories of De
Maupassant into one volum e by using thin paper. Dumb, inarticulate
efforts have been made for centuries to squeeze more reading matter into
less space; but the only hint I have found of Moving Reading is in the title
of Stephen Crane’s "Black Riders,” which suggests the dash of inky words
at full gallop across the plains of pure white pages. Roger Babson recently
listed the needed invention of a Talking Book in a list of a dozen ways to
make a million. But he missed the point. What’s needed is a Bookless Book
and certainly a silent one, because reading is for the eye and the INNER
Ear. Literature is essentially Optical —not Vocal. Primarily, written words
stand distinct from spoken ones as a colorful medium of Optical Art.
Reading is intrinsically for the eye, but not necessarily for the naked
optic alone. Sight can be comfortably clothed in an enlarging lens and the
light on a moving tape-line of words may be adjusted to personal taste in
intensity and tint, so the eye may be soothed and civilized, and eventually
become ashamed of its former nakedness.
Already we are familiar with news and advertisements reeling off before
our eyes in huge illuminated letters from the tops of com er buildings, and
smaller propaganda machines tick off tales of commercial prowess before
our eyes in shop windows. All that is needed is to bring the electric street
signs down to the ground, move the show-window reading device into the
library by reducing the size of the letter photographically and refining it to
the need of an intimate, handy, rapid reading conveyor.
In New York a retired Admiral by the name of Fiske has patents on a hand
reading machine which sells for a dollar; it is used in reading microscopic
type through a lens. Admiral Fiske states: “ I find that it is entirely feasible,
by suitable photographic or other process, to reduce a two and one-half
inch column of typewritten or printed matter to a column one-quarter of

— 61 —
 IN tra n sitio n

an inch wide, so that by arranging five of such columns side by side and on
both sides of a paper tape, which need not have a width greater than one
and one-half inches, it becomes possible to present one hundred thousand
words, the length of an average book, on a tape slightly longer than forty
inches.”
Recently the company that publishes the New York telephone book,
because of the alarming increase in the ponderosity of its tomes, con­
sidered the idea of using the Fiske machine and printing its product, adver­
tisements and all, in pages three inches tall, in microscopic type. The idea
is excellent and eventually will force its way into universal acceptance
because the present bulk of phone directories can hardly be expanded un­
less rooms and booths are enlarged. The inconvenience of searching
through the massive volumes of several boroughs has brought New York to
the necessity of giving birth to an invention.
But book me no books. In the Fiske Machine we have still with us the
preposterous page and the fixity of columns. It is stationary, static, anti­
quated already before its acceptance.
The accumulating pressure of reading and writing alone will budge type
into motion, force it to flow over the column, off the page, out of the book
where it has snoozed in apathetic contentment for half a thousand years.
The only apparent change the amateur reader may bemoan is that he can­
not fall asleep as promptly before a spinning reading roll as he can over a
droning book in his lap, but again necessity may come to the rescue with a
radio attachment which will shut off the current and automatically stop
the type-flow on receipt of the first sensitive vibration of a snore.
R evolutionize reading and the R evolution of the Word is inklessly
achieved. There have been rumbling of word battles from Rabelais and
Shakespeare through the inarticulate arm-waving time of Whitman to the
deafening present. Creative writers have searched for new forms of word
communication, methods of greeting more mental and aesthetic than dogs
continue to employ so unimaginatively. Bawling creative Babes in the
Word continue the struggle to shatter the filmy caul they were bora with
and get at the rosy nourishing nipples of their mother, the Sphinx-like
Reader. Manifestos have been broadcast in all tongues in all times, dating
from the one God issued at the Tower of Babble, which carries on today in
the Unknown Tongue by which Holy Rollers commune. Maybe when we lift
our creative writing heads too high again through the unexpected outlet of
the Reading Machine God will come along and pie the type and we’ll have
to begin all over again. But until then lets be busy at our Tower.
The machine by its very existence makes a need of new words and deletes
some worn-out ones. The hackneyed typewriter key-test of “Now is the
time for all good men to come to the aid of their party” can be expressed
with more interesting optical effect "Nowtime goodmen comeaid their
party” . No educated reading eye of this age catches the little, useless con­
ventional conjunctions, articles, prefixes, suffixes, etc. unless they are
needed for emphasis. The up-to-date eye scarcely sees the “thes,” “ands” ,
“buts,” “tos” , "fors,” “fromits” , but picks out the meaty nouns and verbs
and only qualifying words so placed as to assume importance. Useless, un­

— 62 —
 B ob BROWN

important sentence-encumberers will be skipped and never moving missed

at all by the eager eye in its excitement at witnessing a type spectacle, a
READIE, performing before its Mind’s Vision and the sensitive Inner Ear.
Already there is a tendency to do away with quotes in the French fashion
and useless capital letters at the beginning o f colum ns of poetry. All
modem movements toward more effective simplicity are in the same sure
direction, even the poet laureate of word-bound England at the end of his
life has done his bit to loosen up the language. Let’s see words machine-
wise, let the useless ones drop out and the fresh Spring pansy ones pop up.
Without any whirr or splutter writing is readable at the speed of the day
— 1930 — not 1450, without being broken up by conventional columns,
confined to pages and pickled in books, a READIE runs on before the eye
continuously —on forever in-a-single-line-I-see-1450-invention-movable-
type-Gutenberg-W ynkyn-de-W orde-Jimmy-the-Caxton-though-Chinese-
centuries-before-printed-thousand-page-books-on-silk-leaves-furnished-
by-local-silk-w orm s-no-tw o-leaves-tinted-alike-printing-from -dainty-
porcelain-type-same-stuff-makes-teacups-dreams-Shakespeare-bending-
over-w orkbench-m aking-language-laboriously-bellow ing-blacksm ith-
turning-out-grotesqueries-at-forge-all-onhisown-to-keep-UP-interest-in-
jo b —S p en strea m -o f-lu sty -stea m y -b ig fisted -w o rd -m o u ld ers-flit-b y —
R a b e la is-B e n J o n so n -D a n D e fo e -S te r n e -W a ltW h itm a n -G e r tS te in-
Jim Joyce—Stephen-Crane’s-Black-Riders-Crash-by-hell-bent-for-leather
-uppercase-LOW ERCASE-both-together-chanting-valorously-Print-in-
action-at-longlast-m oveable-type-at-breakneck-gallop—Carl-Sandburg-
flashes-through-daredevil-commaless-Cossack-astride-mustang-bronco-
vocabulary-leaning-farout-into-inky-night-picking-upcarefully-placed-
phrases-with-flashing-Afric-teeth—M yself-I-see-motherfather-newscope-
Optical-W riters-running round-rims-rhythmically=Eye-Writers-writing-
endless-lines-for-reading-m achines-m ore-optical-m ental-m ore-colorful-
read ab le-th an -b ook s—sim p le-foolproof-R ead ie= M achine-conveying ■
breathless-type-to-eager-eyereaders-tickling-Inner-ears-dumping-Inner-
Ear-eyefuls-of-writer-right-before-receptive-ocular-brainportals-bringing
-closer-hugging-readerwriter-now-there-is-m ore-mental-necking-radio-
reaction-television-readievision-going-on-m ore-m oving-reading-m ore-
moving-writing.
The above is neither telegraphese nor a stab at writing modemly. It is but
a crude attempt to convey the optical continuity of reading matter as it
appears spinning past the eye out of a word-machine. It is hampered by the
connecting hyphens and columns and lacks MOTION, the one essential of
the new reading principle.
With written matter moving before the eyes new forms of expression will
develop naturally, and surely more expressive ones, at least a technical
eye-lingo of the Readie will result. They eye refreshed will ask for more,
bawl for occasional tickling eye-Bawl, even tinted paper could be used to
help along the flow of words and thoughts; and surely colored lighting
effects on the reading tape.
Useless words will go out for a long walk and never come back into the
reading language again, they will just walk out, drop out, dim out, fade

— 63 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

out —OUT. Writing will recover its earlier naivete, its Rabelaisian, Shake­
spearean charm, its art quality; our reading vocabulary will be circumcised
and circumscissiled. For the first time in the History of mental optics there
will exist a visual Literary Language sharply separated from the Speaking
Tongue. Literary language is Optical, speaking language Vocal, and the gap
between them must spread till it becomes a gulf. My reading machine will
serve as a wedge. Makers of words will be bora; fresh, vital eye-words will
wink out of dull, dismal, drooling type at startled smug readers. New
methods crave new matter; conventional word-prejudices will be automati­
cally overcome, from necessity reading-writing will spring full-blown into
being. The Revolution of the Word will be won. Reading-writing will be pro­
duced not so much for its sonorific sleep-producing qualities as for its
mental-eye-provoking pleasures.
I have lived with five hundred years of printed books and have felt the
same papyrus that Nebuchadnezzar might have touched, and all this time I
have lived in loving wonder, a great want-to-know about words, their here
and their there, their this and their that, and the most efficacious manner
of administering the written word to the patient. The monks in the begin­
ning didn’t do it so badly in their illuminated manuscripts, they retained a
little o f the healthy hieroglyphic, all Oriental books in ideogramatic
character are delights, early colophons splendid. But what have we got in
this machine age, only Bruce Rogers and waste-baskets full of glittering
comely type to make into beautifully commonplace words which can’t tell
us much more than the labored chisellings of the stone age, beautiful but
dumb books as clumsy in their way as the Rozetti Stone.
Let’s let writing out of books, give it a chance and see what it does with
its liberty. Maybe there are butterflies in the core of those cloth-cased
cocoons stacked away in libraries. Let’s let them out and have a look. With
reading words freely conveyed maybe books will become as rare as horses
after the advent of the auto, perhaps they will be maintained only for
personal pleasure or traditional show, as the gorgeously-trapped brewery
steeds of Munich.
Let’s look for literary renaissance through the Readie; a modem, mov­
ing, word spectacle. Let’s have a new reading medium in time with our day,
so that industrious delvers in the Word-Pile may be rapidly read and
quickly understood by their own generation at least.
The Readies are no more unusual than the Talkies, and not a scratch on
television. As soon as the reading machine becomes a daily necessity cer­
tainly it will be out of date. Pocket reading machines will be the vogue
then; reading matter probably will be radioed and words recorded directly
on the palpitating ether. But the endless imaginative possibilities of the
new medium need not lead us astray. The low-brows are presently revelling
in their Movies and Talkies while the almost extinct high-brow is content
to sit at home sipping his thin alphabet soup out of archaic volumes of
columns, mewling a little like a puling baby taking mush from the tip of an
awkward wooden spoon too gross for his musical rose-buddy tempera­
mental mouth.

— 64 —
 B ob BROWN

Those Mental Obfuscates who can’t make out the Readies on the dim lit­
erary horizon of the day will be the first to accept them as a commonplace
tomorrow and they will be the loudest in grumbling if anything happens to
the Readie mechanism to interrupt the eager optical word-flow as for as
much as a billimeter-augenblick.

LJUNE 1930]

LABARBE!!!
This space is subscribed by an anonym ous advocate of:

Franco-American friendship
Lafayette
n ( French ) „ 7 ,
Pure ; A . ; W omanhood
( Am erican )
( Am erican ) ,
C le a n ; „ , Manhood
( French )
Veteran’s C rusades
Law and Order
Governm ent of, by or for the people
Unmarried War M others
The S.-S. Banner
Trans-Atlantic flights (either su c c e ssfu l or u n su ccessfu l)
Etc. etc.

LABARBE!!!
[OCTOBER 1927]

— 65 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

THREE POEMS
b y B ry lie r

DIFFERENT FOCUS
I t ’s n o t y o u ,
it’s everything you were,
lights reflected from a skyscraper,
lights from revolving d isk s,
words so of th is day,
un-told, untold.

S ounds of your voice,

your brain,
your asth en ic modern head,
ears,
picking up the w ireless of the world,
transm itting it again.

S h ells inland
on the bed of a long forgotten dried up sea,
so old that they are young,
prehistoric things,
pterodactyl wings,
stride of dinosaurs in sand;
if you are brittle and dry
and needing
som ething I cannot even understand,
to be carried by the wind
from the sea,
detached and unrelated,
it is for you to decide this,
not me.

— 66 —
 BRYHER

Y> OU SAY THROUGH.

II

I answ er —
there is nothing e lse to do -
“through.”

I never loved you

as I loved the rain;
you never cared,
preferring reindeer
that range from icy water
to browze black willow
on a frozen plain.

Only your brain,

in words reflected,
w as a hum m ing bird,
parting blue leaves
that first and sudden tim e,
to no one else
m ysterious —
to me strange.

I
A F I AM A N EED L E ON A1 D
, 1 ISK ,

go t to p la y the record out,

got to go on,
whatever vo ices break across me
or what shadow s,
k n ees or sh ou lders,
silverpoint the blackness;
got to play the record out
till I break or am lifted,
I dont ch o o se the soun d I m ake,
you d on’t c h o o se the groove.

No good saying,
take a knife and cut me from the past,
If I am a needle on a disk,
I’m not the new record
nor the old silen ce.
There is now here that we join together,
now here . . .
And it’s not your job to lift me at the finish.

[JUNE 1927]

— 67 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

A k kv » n d o r C 'a l d e r
Wire Sculpture

The wire sculpture and artistic toys of

Alexander Calder, a young American imho
recently has settled in Paris, have won him
im m ediate recognition.

LJUNE 1929]

— 68 —
 E rsk in e CALDWELL

JULY
l> .y E r ^ k i u r C ' a l t i w c ' l l

W ^ I D D L E A G E D BEN HACKETT WITH CROMWELL AND JULIA WAS HAYING TO BEAT

hell w hen the th u n d e rsto rm broke on th e eastridge. Ben knew it was
com ing, because all m o rn in g th u n d e r rum bled u p an d down th e river;
b u t Ben d id n t w an t it to com e while m ost of h is firstcrophay was cocked,
an d he d id n t like it a t all. Ben w as h o t a n d Ben w as m ad, b u t th e rain
cooled him dow n a n d took som e of th e an g er out of him . Cromwell an d
J u lia d id n t like th e h eat, an d now they d id n t like th e ra in a n d th u n d e r.
Ben swore to th em soothingly ab o u t th e w eather an d they stood all right.
W hen the sto rm w as over th e hay w as too wet to draw , a n d Ben h ad to
p itch off h is load becau se th a t too w as wet. Sw earing a n d sw eating Ben
u nloaded, a n d drove Cromwell a n d J u lia across the field an d th ro u g h the
gap in th e rock wall a t th e lane. In the lane Ben filled h is pipe an d perched
h im self on the hayrack. The s u n w as out, an d it w as h o t again. B ut the
hay w as wet.
“If th e w eath er know s all a b o u t m ak in g h ay it o u g h t to have to get it in
itself, by J e s u s ,” Ben told Cromwell a n d Ju lia.
Cromwell sn o rte d som e thistledow n o u t h is nose an d J u lia sw ished h e r
h o rseh a irs in B en’s face.
While he w as g ettin g h is tobacco aglow th e team sto p t. Ben took five or
six deep su ck s w ith o u t looking up.
“Get along th e re , C rom w ell,” he u rg e d puffing. “W h at’s ailin g you,
J u lia !”
The team moved forw ard a pace a n d again halted. Ben stood u p bal­
a n c in g him self on th e rack.
“By J e s u s !” he g ru n te d m ask in g h is face.
An autom obile, unoccupied, blocked th e narrow lane.
Ben clim bed down, sw earing to Cromwell an d Ju lia. He walked aro u n d
th e au to m o b ile u n c e rta in ly , sto p t stu d y in g it. a n d w alked a ro u n d it
again. No one w as in sig h t. Going closer Ben laid h is h a n d on the door
tak in g from h is teeth th e pipe w ith h is o th er h an d .
“D am n a m an w ho’d s ta n d h is au to ab a rrin g the la n e ,” he p ronounced,
glancing aro u n d a t Cromwell a n d J u lia for confirm ation. “I guess I'll have
to p u sh th e th in g o u t th e way myself. By J e s u s , if whoever left it here was
here I’d tell h im so m eth in g he w ouldnt forget soon!”
B ut Ben co u ld n t move th e car. It creak ed a n d sq u e a k ed w hen he

— 69 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

p u sh ed an d w hen he pulled, b u t it w ouldnt move. Knocking o u t his pipe

an d w iping h is face Ben backed u p to Cromwell an d Ju lia grasping their
bridles in h is h an d s. He led h is team a ro u n d the autom obile all right.
W hen he got in th e lane b eh in d the car he sto p t h is horses and w ent
back, looking at it an d p u ttin g h is h a n d s on the doors and m udguards.
“By J e s u s !” Ben exclaim ed highp itch ed looking in the tonneau. He
pulled o u t a cream silk stocking an d a p a ir of black p a te n t leatherpum ps.
He w as too excited to say an y th in g or to do an y thing w ith the stocking
an d shoes. He looked in the driver’s seat, an d there u n d e r the steering-
wheel s a t a gallonjug of cider alm ost empty. Ben pulled the cork to smell if
it was h ard . It was. He jab b ed h is th u m b th ro u g h the handlehole and
threw the ju g in h is elbow. It was hard cid er all right, b u t there w as very
little of it left.
“By J e s u s ”, Ben sm acked h is lips, w iping them w ith h is h an d , “th a t’s
pretty good cider for a w indfall”.
He replaced the ju g u n d e r the steeringw heel. Before he screwed his
finger o u t th e handlehole h is eyes discovered a g arm ent lying on the
floor beside it. He pulled o u t th e g arm en t an d held it up before h is eyes.
It w as a p a ir of laven d ersilk d raw ers. B en sta re d op en -m o u th ed an d
wildeyed.
“By J e s u s , Cromwell,” he licked h is m u stach e lip, “w h at do you know
a b o u t th a t!”
Cromwell an d th e m are nibbled at th e roadgrass unconcerned.
Ben h a n d le d th e d raw ers a little m ore intim ately. He t u r n td th em
slowly a ro u n d looking a t all sides. T h en he looked in side. T hen he
sm elled them .
“By J e s u s , Cromwell,” he declared triu m p hantly, “th is is a w om an’s
thing, or else I’m a redheaded tadpole!”
Holding th e draw ers in h is h a n d s tenderly Ben clim bed on the hayrack
an d drove down th e lane into the road. They were nice an d soft in his
h an d s, an d they sm elled good, too.
He w ent down th e road hom ew ard th in k in g about the draw ers. They
m ade him w an t to do so m eth in g b u t he d id n t know w hat he could do.
W hen he reached Fred W illiams’ place he drew u p h is team . Fred’s wife
w as stooping over in the garden. Ben stu ft the draw ers in h is pocket.
“Nice day, today, Mrs. W illiams,” he called unsteadily. “W here’s F red?”
“Fred’s gone to tow n today,” she answ ered looking aro u n d b e n t over
h er knees.
B en’s h a n d w ent in h is pocket and felt th e lavendersilkdraw ers. Even
in h is pocket outofsight they m ade him feel like a new m an trying him self
out. He hitch ed th e team to the horserack a n d w ent in the garden where
Fred’s wife was. She was picking peas for supper. W atching h er pulling
th e long ro u n d pods an d p u ttin g them in h e r ap ron Ben strode aro u n d
h er in circles p u ttin g h is h a n d in th e pocket where the lavendersilk­
draw ers were. W alking a ro u n d h er he sp at b eh in d him every other step.
The w om an d id n t say m uch, an d Ben said n o th in g at all. He was getting

— 70 —
 E rsk in e CALDWELL

so now he could feel th e draw ers w ith o u t even p u ttin g h is h a n d in his

pocket.
W hen he w as b e h in d h e r th e next tim e Ben clutched h er a ro u n d h er
w aist w ith h is arm s a n d held to her.
“Help!” she yelled at th e top of h e r voice diving forward: "Help!”
W hen she ju m p t forw ard b o th of th em fell on the peavines tearin g them
a n d up ro o tin g them . She yelled an d fought b u t Ben w as d eterm ined, and
he held on to h e r w aist w ith all h is stre n g th . They rolled in the d irt an d
on the peavines. Ben jerk ed th e draw ers out. He got one of h er feet
th ro u g h one draw ersleg b u t he co u ld n t get th e o th er foot in. They rolled
som e m ore in the d irt tearin g u p th e peavines. Ben w as p an tin g . B ut he
couldnt get th e lavendersilkdraw ers on Fred’s wife’s o th er foot. He was
d eterm ined to p u t the draw ers on her. Presently sh e sto p t struggling and
Ben glanced aro u n d a t her. She w as s ittin g u p looking down a t him in
the dirt. B oth of th em were brow n w ith th e g arden soil, an d Ben was
sw eating th ro u g h h is m ask.
“Ben H ackett w h at are you trying to d o ? ” she sp u tte re d th ro u g h the
e a rth on h e r face.
Ben released h e r legs an d looked u p at her. He d id n t say anything. She
stood u p a n d s te p t in th e draw ersleg a n d pulled th em u p u n d e r h er dress.
T h a t w as w here he h a d been trying to p u t th em all the tim e.
Ben got u p d u stin g h is clothes. He followed h er across the garden into
the frontyard.
“Wait h e re ,” sh e told him .
He w aited, a n d w hen sh e cam e back sh e carried a b a s in of w ater an d a
towel.
“W ash the d irt off your face a n d h a n d s, Ben H ack ett,” she directed
sta n d in g over h im w earing th e lavendersilkdraw ers.
Ben did as he w as told. T hen he slap t som e m ore d irt o u t of h is tro u ­
sers.
W hen he finished cleaning him self Ben h an d e d h e r th e em ptied b asin
a n d soiled towel.
“It w as m ighty nice of you to b rin g th e towel a n d w a te r,” he th an k ed
her.
“You are halfway fit to go hom e now ,” she approved.

LJUNE 1929]

— 71 —
 IN tra n sitio n

ALMOST A FA1ILI]
l»y E m s in iic l C a r n e v a li

TA HE SUN JUMPED OUT OF THE LAKE AND THE GODDESS OF THE WATERS PULLED
at a tho u san d h orses of light. The G oddess ran on the lake leaving behind
her gold coins marvelously big and bright.
The G oddess en tered c h ild re n ’s room s and c h ild ren ’s dream s, while
they lay on their little beds like flowers th a t have been cut.
Dawn was cool in the sky and the lake was in full uniform, green and red.
The bubbles on the crest of the waves were k isse s from an angel descended
on purpose from heaven.
C hildren’s feet c a re sse d the san d th a t was m ighty around the lake.
These little children loved the lake unconsciously as they did once in the
tim es th at are past.
Thru the ch ildren’s toes the fine sand ran, like a liquid of portent and
marvel. Children were like in stru m en ts of joy. Joy th at went beyond life
and beyond death.
When the children w ent to the country they found arm ies of little daisies.
Little white daisies, pure and sweet, sim ple and sweet, joyous and sweet.
Destiny weights upon you, children, like a hawk or an eagle on a little
bird. Alas it is your fate to becom e old as it is everybody’s fate. And then
you too shall die and like persons of novels one reads about you saying: he
who wrote the book is dead and they whom he wrote about are dead too.
For death is the eternal in tru se and im portunate.
Children walked and the su n followed them slowly slowly. And at the end
of their walk death was sm iling falsely. And at the end of their walk death
awaited them . Children th at are dear die too, as well as children who are
not dear. These children I speak of are com mon children not special chil­
dren of a special tale. These com mon children wear the smile of the world,
for at tim es the world, this awful old hulk, sm iles too.
Children run about quickly enough but death is faster than they. And it
seem s im possible th a t th at old God who was in the sky should allow them
to die. But the world is sad and the world is weary, so weary as to allow chil­
dren to die while the world stan d s by sad and weary and it w atches and
says nothing, afraid of fatigue, afraid of struggle, afraid of co n trast and dis­
turbance and change of opinion, and change of habit.
My children (common, I repeat) never wake early enough to give us the
spectacle of their m eeting the dawn.
My children walked and the su n followed them slowly slowly. And their
walk has no end it is eternal and terrible.
(JUNE 1930]

— 72 —
 E m anuel CARNEVALI

CAN YOU HELP?

Emanuel Carnevali
is incurably ill, and
entirely dependent
on public charity.
Can you help to
make his suffering
more tolerable ? His
address is

T ratto ria di Porta Castello

Bazzano (Bologna)
Italie

[NOVEMBER 1929]

— 73 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

8 E V E H O ’C L O C K

b y M alc*olm C o w le y

A t S E V E N O 'C L O C K W H E N T A B L E S H A V E B E E N C L E A R E D

b r u s h e d f r e e o f c ru m b s a n d c h a irs s e t b a c k
th e d is h e s s c ra p e d a n d w a s h e d a n d p u t a w a y

a t s e v e n o ’clo ck th e w iv e s o f C herry T ree

c o m e to th e ir p o rch e s, ta k e a rocking c h a ir
a n d s w a y in r h y th m , o n e, tw o, slip p e rs ta p
s y m m e tr ic a lly , o n e . . . tw o . . . o n e . . .

T o d a y th e h o u s e w a s very h o t s h e s a id
a n d M a b e l s a id th e h o u s e w a s h o t to d a y
a n d not a c lo u d in th e s k y , b u t a s to r m y m o o n
w ith th e h o rn s tu r n e d d o w n , so m a y b e ra in w o u ld f a l l
d u rin g th e n ig h t. J u ly , th e w in d le s s m o n th
w h e n o n ly th e h o t b re a th o f g ro w in g corn
s e e p s im p e rc e p tib ly th ro u g h th e d u s k , J u ly
in th e e ig h te e n -s e v e n tie s or n in e te e n -te n
o r fifty y e a r s fr o m n o w . T h eir c h a irs c re a k on
o n e, tw o, a n d slip p e rs ta p p in g o n th e flo o r

till a t h a lf-p a s t n in e
th ere is a s o u n d o f clo sin g doors, o f bolts
sh o t, a n d th e s u d d e n g lo w o f la m p s.

In a ll th e v a lle y h o u s e s a t h a lf-p a s t n in e
s h a d o w s go cra w lin g th ro u g h th e flo w e r e d h a llw a y s
a n d g in g h a m ru stle s u p a n a rro w stair.

[SUMMER 1928]

— 74 —
 M alcolm COWLEY

THE CHESTNUT TREES

ARE DEAD
liy IVIsiIc o Imi C o w l e y

ww W E w il l m a k e o u r WAY o u t OF THE c i t y : c o m e !

It is too late now.

I k n o w a place w here b lu e g ra s s , o rc h a rd g ra ss
red clover, tim o th y a n d w hite clover
are ta n g le d in a n o rc h a rd , a n d ju n e b e rrie s
rip e n an d fall a t th e deep edge of th e w oods.

Crowds, turbines, unremembered time

it is too late now.

S in ce u n re m e m b e re d tim e th e fe rn s have grow n

kn ee-d eep , a n d m o ss u n d e r th e c h e s tn u t tre e s
h id in g th e fo o tp rin ts of sm a ll d eer. We ra n
do y o u rem em b er, tra m p lin g fe rn s to re a c h
a sp rin g th a t is s u e d from th e c h e s tn u t ro o ts
in a b rig h t s tre a m (we tra c e d it th ro u g h th e la u re l
c ro s s in g b u rn e d g ro u n d w h ere b ria rs h eld u s back
w ith th e ir s k in n y h a n d s , th e n c ra sh in g dow n a hill
h e ad lo n g to find...)

It is too late now, too late

we have lived a great while here and no moons rise
the jun eberries will be rotted on the branches
the ch estn ut trees are dead.

[JANUARY 1928]

— 75 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

RACE BETWEEN A
SUBWAY LOCAL AND THE
S i mVAV EXPRESS
Irv
• M a lc o lm C o n le •y

T“ HE DOORS ROLLED NOISILY SH U T, THEN, FOR A MOMENT, THE TWO TRAINS

stood side by side, m otionless, like p a n th e rs g athered for a leap. It was a
m om ent of depth an d calm. The platform stood em pty u n d er the electric
lights. A dozen flakes of snow, w hich had drifted in th ro u g h the ventila­
tor, h u n g briefly in the still air. From th e m en ’s toilet a solitary traveler
cam e ru sh in g w ith long strid es. He banged on a door, found a crack,
slipped h is h a n d into it, w idened the opening, squeezed through. The
g u ard cursed him indifferently. The late traveler, he wore a flat-brim m ed
S te tso n s h in in g w ith m elted snow , w ent s tu m b lin g dow n th e aisle
tow ard th e front of th e car. There was th e rum ble and squeak of wheels.
With m ajesty the E xpress rolled o u t of the F ourteenth S treet station,
eight seconds ahead of o u r Local.
Soon we recovered m ost of th e lost advantage. The E xpress is a lum ber­
ing beast, slow to sta rt, g ath erin g im m ense speed th ro u g h m om entum
only; the Local is a dog yapping a t its heels, officious, ru n n in g quickly,
tirin g quickly, less p o p u lar, vastly m ore sy m p ath etic. The d isease of
paradox affects my friends. They know th e folklore of the skyscraper, the
rom ance of th e girder, th e ballad of the p n eu m atic riveter. They despise
the crowd of those who despise th e crowd. E ach m orning they travel in
the Local, sta rin g th ro u g h th e windows to w atch its alm ost hopeless
race.
The seconds passed. O ur tra in was m arch in g step by step w ith the Ex­
press, at a h an d icap of maybe half a dozen cars. From the front platform
of the first Local car, w here we were sta n d in g a few feet from the silent
engineer, we could w atch th e seventh car of the Express: an am b u lan t
dom estic scene w ith Papa reading the m orning Tim es, Alfred yawning,
Jo sep h an d Charles sm iling tow ard Estelle, who was publicly cleaning
her fingernails. They were long an d pink; h er m outh puckered; her eyes
were b right. I w anted to pinch h e r chem ical cheeks, and m ade a forward
m o v e m e n t, im a g in in g . . . a n o p e n e d w in d o w , a p ra y e r, my a rm s
stretch ed out tow ard her, th e n torn from my shoulders by the iron posts,
sole fixities in a m oving world, p a st w hich we glided.
In th e m orning, after black coffee, th e tim e is favorable for m a th e­
m atics. I estim ated the distan ce betw een the posts as 5 feet. Since the
length of a New York city block is 260 feet, there m u st be 208 posts

— 76 —
 M alcolm COWLEY

betw een 14th a n d 18th streets. If we were traveling at the rate of 20 miles
an hour, we should p ass —1 stopped to estim ate —ab o u t six posts every
second. D istance a n d tim e are interchangeable. I tried to count the posts,
b u t they had becom e a blur, a line of shadow s m arch in g to the rear, while
the h u m of the wheels h ad clim bed to a h ig h er octave.
O ur siste r car w as m oving beside u s still, b u t we h ad gained three
windows, four . . . And now the stran g er, the m an in the flat-brim m ed
S tetson, offers to bet one dollar ag ain st three th a t we beat the Express
into the Pennsylvania S tatio n . Five dollars ag ain st ten (we have gained
a n o th e r window). Ten dollars ag a in st fifteen. It was a desperate wager,
yet we could all rem em ber in stan ces, p e rh a p s one in a h u n d red , p erhaps
one in fifty, w here th e E xpress h a d been delayed by o th er train s; where
th e Local, in spite of its h an d icap of th ree sta tio n s, h ad m arched ahead
into the T erm inal. We hope for su ch a victory today.
We gain a n o th e r window. B ehind us, in the car, a m ud in terest is
creeping over the p assen g ers. Two of th em peer th ro u g h the dirty panes.
A th in m an in black lays down h is new spaper, folds h is glasses and slips
them into h is vest; he fum bles in h is coat-pocket for an o th e r pair. A
w om an w ith a h ig h forehead an d crazy eyes w rites UP DE VALERA! in
the d u st of th e window; th e n she sta re s at the E xpress. We are gaining
continually. The car w hich carries Estelle is left behind: we gain; and.
w indow after window, we are given a p an o ram a of the train.
It is w rong to believe, as m ost of u s do. th a t one subw ay car resem bles
an o th er. T h eir personality, w hich is th a t of th e ir p assengers, changes
from end to end of the train . A dventurous people, in general, seek a place
at one of the extrem es: here also sit th e calculating: while those of little
energy, of no im ag in atio n , are co n ten t to be c ru sh ed into the center cars,
w here th ey are em balm ed u p rig h t in coffins of e te rn al glass. I have
im agined subw ays filled w ith poison gases, and every creature dead on
the train s: yet, w ith a dead h a n d on the lever, they proceed in h aste to
reach no d estin atio n . I have im agined cars in w hich sheep, monkeys,
fish, were p ack ed to g eth er. W atching th e West Side subw ay, I have
observed th a t b u sin e ss m en an d sten o g rap h ers crowd the front of the
tra in , since th e ir d e s tin a tio n is n o rth of 42d S treet; w hile th e cars
b eh in d are filled w ith g arm en t w orkers, p u sh in g , stin k in g , gesticulating,
reading the scan d als of yesterday in the only Y iddish m orning new s­
paper. We have left them far b eh in d , an d now. in h is d ark alcove, we are
w atching th e engineer of the E xpress.
I m u st have been holding my b reath ; it escapes w ith a gasp; my head is
dancing w ith noise: my h a n d trem bles a little. Beyond the E xpress I can
see a n o th e r E x p ress, a n o th e r Local, racin g like o u r tw c tra in s, b u t
tow ard a different goal.
T here is a m om ent in the race, in every tru e race, w hen destinies are
balanced, w hen the two c o n te sta n ts are side by side, a second, an in sta n t
only, w hen, th ro u g h extrem es of speed, everything grows still. Perhaps
one h e ars th e so u n d of c h u rc h bells in the valley. A little sm oke drifts in

— 77 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

the air th a t precedes a storm . A yellow light is seen —in the m idst of the
clouds; on earth , all colors are pretern atu rally clear. The storm breaks.
The th in m an in black changes h is spectacles again a n d re tu rn s to the
m orning World. A girl’s lau g h ter so u n d s above the screech of the wheels.
Suddenly I discover th a t the E xpress is m arch in g ahead.
It gains, w indow by window; it gains, an d the pan o ram a of cars is
again unrolled: the sten o g rap h ers an d office executives, the nondescripts
of th e cen ter cars, th e piled g arm en t w orkers, the half-em pty car w here
Estelle h as ju s t finished th e nails of h er left h an d . She tu rn s to the nails
of h e r rig h t, sm ilin g secretly. T he m an in th e flat-brim m ed S tetso n
b u rs ts into tears. I lean ag ain st the door, tired as the calendar. With a
sh ru g of its red tail-light, the E xpress b o u n d s northw ard, to 72d and
96th, the Harlem River w ith its tugs and barges, th e heig h ts beyond the
river, scattered a p a rtm e n t houses, schoolboys sk atin g in Van C ortland
Park, an d tow ard those final yards where E xpress an d Local are equally
disassem bled, th e ir id en tities lost, th eir cars recoupled into o th er trains.

[JANUARY 1928]

SOME OPINIONS [1 9 2 9 ]
. . . All unsuspecting in his mad whimsicality, Lewis Carroll discovered
the new tenets of writing which were to be hailed in 1929 as the ne plus
ultra of artistic creation, hailed upon the first page of the current issue of
transition as the revolution of the word. To show proper respect for their
predecessor the rebels ought certainly to acknowledge their debt and
establish Humpty Dumpty as their prophet . . . With the reader thus dis­
posed of, it remained only for these pioneers to begin their process of dis­
integrating the language, and a good deal of the resultant shambles may be
read in the present transition . . . Joyce, in his ‘Work in Progress’ has been
consistently practicing the disrupting and rebuilding of words, and Stuart
Gilbert interprets a part of this for us in old-fashioned English . . . Part of
Theo Rutra’s contribution is as close a rival to "Jabberwocky” as modern
writing can produce. Carroll would have been proud of it . . . One can
observe the phenomenon with that species of watchful curiosity which is
usually accorded a biologic sport, trusting always in the reversion of
natural law . . .
—New York Sun.

— 78 —
 A rch ibald CRAIG

SUMMER TIME
b y A iT liilia ld C r a ig

T* *>H E SE E V E N IN G S S T A Y O N LO N G
Old w o m en ta lkin g in th e d u s k
Until their voices s in k
H ard a s th e cold tea in th e cups.
Its too d u s k to write.
T h e current h a s ’nt com e on yet
W hen th e sw itc h m a k e s a hollow click
in m y fin g ers.
T h ese ev en in g s sit on m e like old clothes
T h e s w e a t ca n n o t p en etra te.
T h ey m ove slo w ly in th e street
C om ing along w ith lu n ch bags
afire w ith d a n d e lio n s.
T heir voices le a d e n a g a in st the blocks.
W hy is th e electric co m p a n y fo o le d
B e c a u se th e p a p e rs s a y lighting up tim e is 6:45?
T here are no lights in the la b u rn u m trees.

T h ey drone a ro u n d th e table
th e old w o m e n ’s voices...
"We are yo u n g ... We are young still a n d th ere’s
S u n on th e d a n d e lio n s ’’
A n d I m u st listen a n d curse
q u ietly in th e dark.

[SUMMER 1928]

— 79 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

MOMENT FUO UE
l>y H a r t C r a n e

T“ HE SYPHILITIC SELLING VIOLETS CALMLY

and d a isie s
By th e subw ay n ew s-stan d know s
how h y a cin th s

T h is A pril m orning offers

hurriedly
In b u n ch es so rted freshly
and b esto w s
On every p u rch aser
(of heaven perhaps)

H is ey es —
lik e cru tch es h u rtled in to g ra ss
F all p h an tom -su d d en (cou n tin g change
for lilies)

B eyond th e r o se s th a t no flesh can p a ss.

[FEBRUARY 1929]

PLEASING TO THE EYE [1927]

“Attractive in form —sm all, thick, with uncut leaves, a dull blue cover,
and its name lettered in silver.”
Louisville Courier Journal.

— 80 —
 H art CRANE

THE IIAKBOIt OAWN

l » v I I s i 1*1 C r a n e

B rooklyn H eights.

I n S L E E P , — A S TH O U G H A SH A D O W B L O O M E D A L O U D , —
They m eet you listen in g midway in your dream,
The long tired sou n d s, creeping in grey reefs:
Gongs in white su rp lices, pursuant wails,
Chugs, w h istles . . . sign als dispersed in veils.

And then a truck will lum ber past the wharves,

Steel clank on som e p assin g tanker deck;
Or a drunken stevedore’s howl and thud below.

And if they take your sleep away som etim es

They give it back again . . . Soft sleeves of sound
W istfully wind the d arkness, the pillowed Bay.
Som ew here out there in b lan k n ess steam

Spills into steam and wanders, w ashed away,

—Flurried by k een fifings, eddied
Among distant chim ing buoys, drifts . . . The sky,

Cool, feathery fold, su sp en d s, —distils

This wavering slum ber . . . Slowly,
Immemorially the window, the half-covered chair
Ask nothing but th is sh eath e of pallid air.

It is the hour we need not speak. Sirens

Hold u s now, stealthily weave u s into day.
Let hidden river m u sic sum m on us gradually —
Fog su rges, vague calliopes of morn . . .
 IN tr a n sitio n

While myriad snow y hands are clustering at the panes -

your hands within my hands are deeds;

my tongue upon your throat - singing
arm s close; eyes wide, undoubtful
dark
drink the dawn -
a fo re st shudders in your hair!

The window goes blond slowly. Frostily clears.

From thaumaturgic heights across the river
- Two - three bright Cyclops eyes aglitter, disk
The sun, released - aloft with cold gulls hither,

The fog leans one last m om ent on the sill.

Under the m istletoe of dreams a star,
As though to join u s at som e farther hill,
Turns in the waking w est and goes to sleep.

[JUNE 1927)

P O E M

b y IIa i*t C 1B*au«

.'‘W e t n o t t h e p il g r im s e e h im s e l f a g a in

b o u n d like th e d o zen tu rtles on th e w harf

ea ch tw iligh t, —still u nd ead , and b rine cak ed in th eir ey es,

h u g e, overturned: su c h th u n d er in th eir strain!

And c le n c h e d b eak s co u g h in g for th e su rge again!

S lagged o f th e h u rrican e, —I, ca st w ith in its flow,

co n g ea l by a ftern o o n s h ere, satin and v a c a n t . . .
You have g iv en m e th e sh ell, Satan, —th e em ber,
Carbolic, o f th e su n exp lod ed in th e sea.
Grand C aym an, W est Indies.

[APRIL 1927]

— 82 —
 C aresse CROSBY

THE NT.KAMGEK
|» y C a r e s s e C 'r o ^ b y

A
A J k SILVER BIRD AND A BIRD OF GOLD

I harnessed to my chariot o f hope

The silver bird wore bells on silver wings
The gold one yoked with filaments and strings of gold.

Myself the charioteer, with whip and lash

Urged on the upward pair
And drove the flashing team
To where a hilltop rose beyond the utmost slope.

Down-lighting there beside an emerald fire

I poured from swift hands out upon the day
A freight o f Tyrian Sapphires and a bright display
Of crimson beads —

The silver bird arose and belled soft wings,

The golden bird slipped from his golden strings.

But once my treasures spilled upon the ground

I stilled my heart, and warrior-fashion found
Against my chariot wheels of beaten bronze
Warm Sleep-
Deceiving phantom for my eyes were strung
With visions winter-cold
And from the Towers of Thenalia
Swarmed a mistral fold of sheep —

One here, one there, one everywhere

And over all soft snow and crystal sleet —

(I felt the golden feathers nearer creep)

The fire dwindled and the hill and sky

rekindled
While the snowfall, hardly falling, softly fell —
Upon the sea, and on the distant shore.

— 83 —
 IN tra n sitio n

Hail land that never was!

The air is stilled once more
and I —
*
* *

No more O Father
from your hands
The Gift of Love.
Once only and forever all of love
Was given
Crimson ribbons, damson grapes,
with tears above.
*
* *

Unavail us the tears of the heart

And the heart-beats that count
Are the shears as they swing
With the weight of the robe —

You have girt us with wool that

is shorn of the sheep
And the perilous breasts of our youth
You have folded in fleece,
O my Father
Our mouths you have stopped
with the harvested herbs of the wood,
And your tent was of flax and
of hemp were the seams of
its pattern!
*
* *
Now the far lands draw near,
Since the speed and the force of our
travel is heat,
Heat bom of the forest and hill —

Far lands drawing near!

O freshets of earth give us life for our flight
And the drip and the dole of our loins
We will leave you as wage for our thirst.
*
* *

The golden bird is sleep beneath my hand

No measured circuit
Or fixed limit planned.

- 84 —
 C aresse CROSBY

The bird of silver thrusting at my side

Is steed to mount,
And so astride
To beautiful and endless otherwheres
Away!
Below me on the plain ten lovers kneel
Above, around, about
The wheeling endless wheels

*
* *

Behind the sun a stranger hides

I will show him the sweet in the
curve of my side —
And a rhythm unsung we will sing —
*
* *

Against the sun

O my lover you stand
And I
against the sun and the hills
and the world.

Infinitesimal pause of the cycle

Swift prick of Time Past

and the mountains the sea

And my love
O my lover around me and over
and in me forever

*
* *

But forever the primary sigh of the flesh

and the womb that is caught
in the turn of the plough
O fertile device in the circle of
how and of how

O steed made of silver what hope have we now!

Sink back to the hilltop and back

to the plain
We must lie with the cattle as
others have lain.
We must yield to the rain.

— 85 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

Intentional kiss for intentional pain —

Will the Stranger still linger there

back of the Sun!
*
* *
I rise again
My feet are tangled now.
About me now the clinging
lace of hands
The hardly-heard triumphant
weak commands
of tendrils draining deep for sap —

What if the silver bird and gold

Should wait and wait and I grow old?

0 wait!
for I have been
and I have guessed
and I have seen
and I must wholly something know.

The golden bird: “Arise, and we will go.”

*
Ht *

But our linen is tinged

with the shame of our sex
and the stain of our rose
is a wound to be hid.

1 have bartered with youth

For a cycle of fears
0 my son
You are young
You are youth without years.

And I moulded you, I, in the long of a day.

In the morning with pain
In the evening with shame
And at night with a prayer —

1 have fashioned you fair?

Is it true, is it true —
Put your feet to the fields
Give your strength to your play
I am free —I am through.

— 86 —
 C aresse CROSBY

The golden wings are tremulous

and I
(while arms lean earthward)
yearn,
and we must fly —
*
* *
A drift of dust
and our shadow gone over
Erased from the fields
lost into the sun
O my bird o f gold
You are wax to flames
and your wings unmould.
Only flight remains.

How your speed is cold!

*
* *

Must it be to the heart of the sun bright through

Shall eyes see —Can I tell it is you?

0 stranger so masked by such light

If I knew —if I knew.
Your burning is dont to my flesh and O dont
1 am tortured with flame.
Your fire about and above and below me
and through me again

Whereby shall I find you

or shall I go —

And Stranger your name?

*
* *

A silver bird and a bird of gold

I harnessed to my chariot o f hope
The silver bird wore bells on silver wings
The gold one yoked with filaments and strings of gold.

And I the charioteer with word and song

Urged on the upward pair!
The moon was with us —
But the sun was yonder
Ever beyond and always otherwhere!

[NOVEMBER 1929J

— 87 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

H a r r y C ro^hj
Apparition

[JUNE 1929]

— 88 -
 Harry CROSBY

T ill: l\KH WORD

h.v l l a r r y C 1ro^liy

TA h E NEW WORD I S THE SERPEN T WHO HAS SL O U G H E D OFF H IS OLD

vocabulary.

T he New Word is th e s ta g w ho h a s rid h im self o f th e old w ood o f h is

a n tlers.

T he New Word is th e clean p ier cin g o f a Sw ord th rou gh th e rotten

ca r c a s s o f th e D iction ary, th e D w arf sta n d in g on th e sh o u ld ers of th e
G ian t (D ictionary) w ho s e e s furth er in to th e F utu re than th e g ia n t h im ­
se lf, th e P an th er in th e J u n g le o f D iction ary w ho p o u n ces u pon and
d evou rs all tim id and fa cile w ord s, th e New Word is a D iam ond Wind
b low in g o u t th e C obw ebs o f the P a st.

T he New Word is a d ire ct stim u la n t upon th e senses^ a fr e sh n e ss of

v isio n , an in n er s e n sa tio n , th e egg from w hich oth er w ords sh a ll be
p rod u ced , a h erald o f revolt, th e new tree th r u stin g above th e dreary
cou rt-yard o f No C hange, a jew el u pon th e b rea st o f T im e, th e Eve th a t
sta n d s n ak ed b efore u s, th e ch allen ge flu n g in th e face o f an unad­
ven tu rou s p u b lic, th e rew ard o f th e d iscoverer, th e com p an ion of th e
p ro p h et, th e sim p lic ity o f th e u ne tp e cted , th e gird er b rid ge tow ards a
sp len d id future *th e trem en d o u s co n cen tra tio n an d in tern a l stren g th of
a J o y ce, th e d efian ce o f law s.

[JUNE 1929]

PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED [1927]

“The pictures look to the vulgar eye like the other crazy m odernist
stuff.”
New York Sun.

— 89 —
 IN tra n sitio n

SUITE
b v llsa rry C r o x b y

A e r o n s iu ticK

PROCESSION TO THE HILL OF MONTMARTRE (WHERE STAND THE FAMOUS

windm ills) in the m idst of w hich is a large Balloon, m ounted on w heels
and drawn by two donkeys. Behind com es a m onkey standing on its
hind legs, in clerical garb, and a donkey both of them with trousers on,
and looking happy. At the back is the personification of Fire on a
cloud, holding a scroll in her hand on w hich are depicted two B alloons.
The Balloon is in mid-air and is encircled by m onkeys and donkeys
waiting for the A scent. A blind Man leaves the scen e saying, I can see
nothing. The Balloon is rising from the platform, in front of which is an
enorm ous crowd of spectators. The Balloon has ascended into the
atm osphere. The Balloon m oves off in a horizontal direction. The Bal­
loon has disappeared into space. An Explosion is heard. The Balloon
has Exploded. The Balloon is on the ground and Peasants are attack­
ing it with pitchforks. Landscape with cottage and hay barn and old
white timber inn with thatched roof, m en seated drinking, to left a
farm-girl feeding pigs, waggoner with h is h orses at watertrough. The
inn stands on the banks of the river behind spreading trees. A cow is
drinking. The Virgin seated by the Tree. The Virgin with the Rabbits.
Saint George with the Dragon. The C ircum cision in the Stable. The
Betrothal of the Virgin. The Wondrous Hog. The Brood Mares. The tiled
buildings of the mill are seen on the further bank of the river. In fore­
ground to right two wom en w ashing cloth es. In centre soldiers firing.
To left spectators with the American Flag above in various attitudes of
alarm. A vixen sits on the ledge of the bank and look s toward five cubs,
a sixth cub peers out of a hole in the bank. Enter the Blind Man. Enter
an Aardvark. Enter a man with a knife left hand raised to his face
(female figure partly nude floating in the air beside him). He is followed
by a young woman plucking a fowl. Her hair is in curls sh e has pearls
round her neck and sh e is wearing an erm ine cloak with jew els. Enter
a young peasant girl carrying basket rejecting the advances of a young
man in uniform (female figure partly nude floating in the air beside
him) Enter m other and child (the child has pyelitis). Enter Elsa de

— 90 —
 Harry CROSBY

Brabant. Enter an Augur observing Birds. Enter a Flying Fox. Enter a

Stork and a Pelican. Enter a Black Hawk. Enter a Red Swan. Enter
Santa Claus with a portion of caviar. Enter Tilden. Enter Walter Hagen
in a knitgrip knicker (no b u ck les to buckle). Enter the Tenth Plague of
Egypt. Enter the Madonna o f the Sleeping Cars. Enter Anna Livia Plura-
belle. Enter La Mere Gerard. Enter La Vieille aux L oques. Enter La Mar-
chande de Moutarde. Enter the Red D ress. Enter two girls one com bing
her hair. Oh! Why! - I d on ’t know about loving him very m uch. Enter
Daniel Webster. Thank God! I - I also - am an American! Enter Christ
and the Woman of Samaria. Enter the Man in the Moon. Enter Cham­
pagne Charley. Enter the Monkey in clerical garb (female figure partly
nude floating in the air beside him) fur cap coat with fur cuffs reading
aloud a book of com m on prayer. Come Holy G host our so u ls inspire.
Lightening flashing in the background. Enter old red man with red h el­
m et on h is head. Enter old bearded man in a high fur cap with closed
eyes. Enter an Animal of No Importance. Enter a Virgin m aking much
of tim e. Enter Renoir (female figure partly nude floating in the air
beside him) If w om en had no breasts I would not have painted them.
Enter H. D. wrapped in a palim psest. Enter a w elldressed man in every­
day attire arm in arm with a F ollies Girl in a m odish three-color one-
piece club-striped com bination travelo sw im -suit. I’ve sim ply nothing
to wear. Enter Prufrock in a Rock Fleece Overcoat. Enter M iss Everis. I
am five m onths pregnant. The other day I felt a pain in my abdomen.
Enter Steve D onoghue. Enter Kefalin w inner of the Grand Prix. Enter
an Onanist. Enter a M asochist. Enter Europe’s G reatest Lover. Enter
Antony and Cleopatra. Enter the Harvard Track Team. Enter Standard
Oil Bearer right hand holding gloves left grasping staff of standard, so
safe so sure so easy to handle. Enter Porphyria’s Lover. Enter Mr. and
Mrs. Lingam with an attendant behind. Enter a Jury of Annoyance.
Enter Sportsm an holding up a hare in h is right hand. Enter a Feudal
Ladye am orous to be know n. Enter a Knight Errant. Enter T. Noorder-
quartier (halitoxio) Enter N icolas Alfan de Ribera Marquis de Villan-
neva de la s T orres de D u g n es d ’A lcala G rands d ’E sp agn e. E nter
Lindberg with a Lion-Tamer. Enter Vandals and V isigoths. Enter the
Pancake-W oman reading aloud What Every Girl Should Know. Enter
Jo sep h telling his Dream s. Enter B lasu s de Manfre, the Waterspouter.
E nter Rom an Youth Sw allow ing S to n e s (burst o f applause from a
London whore w ho appears standing betw een a lion and a unicorn).
Enter an ignorant Physician. Enter a Fair Lady in Revolt. Enter Mr. Guy
Holt with a flair for civilized fiction. Enter a Magician. Enter a Fawn
dressed up as a Girl. Enter Q ueens in Hyacinth. Enter Jam aica God of
Rum. Enter His E xcellency Kno Sung Tao holding a ja r (black idol) in
both hands. Enter the D onkey Am bassador holding a lem on in both
hands, very rare in th is undivided state. Enter a Pederast holding a lip­
stick in both hands. Enter J oh n Paul J o n e s supported by an officer of
th e law w h ite cravat h a t and sw o rd in rig h t h a n d . E n ter Marie

— 91 —
 IN tra n sitio n

A ntoinette powdered hair lace silk com bination pyjamas. Enter Shep­
h e r d e sse s pursued by Illu striou s A m ericans. Enter M iss A tlantic
Monthly. Brekete ex Kotex Kotex pursued by the Earl of Fitzdotterel’s
E ld est Son. I reflect with pleasure on the s u c c e s s with w hich the
British undertakers have prospered this last sum m er. Enter the Ghost
of Hamlet. Enter a Temple Boy, Enter Alpha and Omega. Enter the Soul
killed by the Explosion. Enter Rimbaud. Enter Van Gogh. Enter Amon
Ra. Enter the Star of the East. Enter the Stars. Enter the Y oungest
Princess. Enter the Queen of Peking, Enter the Moon. Enter Death
stabbed in the Back. There is a Circle in the Centre. Enter the Grey
Princess. Enter the Cramoisy Queen. Enter the Mad Queen. Enter the
Sun.
The Blind Man leaves the scen e, saying, I can see nothing.

Tlie Nun

^ I^ H E N 1 LOOK INTO THE SUN 1 SUN-LOVER SUN-W ORSHIPPER SU N -SEE K E R

when I look into the Sun (sunne son n e so leil sol) what is it in the Sun I
deify!
His m adness : h is incorruptibility h is central intensity and fire : his
perm anency of heat : h is candle-power (fifteen hundred and seventy-
five billions of b illions 1,575,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000) : his
age and duration : his dangerousness to man as seen by the effects
(heatstroke, in so la tio n , therm ic fever, siria sis) he som etim es pro­
duces upon the nervous system : the healing virtues of his rays (re­
stores youthful vigor and vitality is the source of health and energy,
oblivionizes ninety per cen t of all hum an aches and pains) : h is purity
(he can penetrate into unclean places brothels privies prisons and not
be polluted by th e m ): h is magnitude (400 tim es as large as the m o o n ):
his weight two octillion s of ton s or 746 tim es as heavy as the com bined
w eights of all the p la n e ts): his brilliance (5300 tim es brighter than the
dazzling radiance of incan descent m e ta l): h is distance from the earth
as determ ined by the equation of light, the con stan t of abberation, the
parallectic inequality of the m oon (an aviator flying from the earth to
the sun would require 175 years to make the journey) : his probable
union in a single m ass with the earth in the far-distant p a s t : the prob­
ability that in som e rem ote future he will begin to grow colder (there is
a turning point in the life of every star) : h is allotropic variations : his
orbital m otion : h is course through the zodiac : his m otion among the
stars : h is path along the ecliptic : his winged disk : h is chariot : his
diameter and d im en sions : h is depth and density, h is rotation : his
contraction : h is daily appearance and disappearance : his image tat­
tooed upon my back : h is image formed in my mind : the colors of his

— 92 —
 Harry CROSBY

spectrum as exam ined with special photographic plates, with a spec-

troheliograph, with an altazim uth, with a pyrheliom eter, with an ac-
tionom eter, with the bolom eter, the radiom ocrom eter, the interfero­
m eter : h is uninhabitability : the festivals held in h is honor : the horses
sacrificed in h is honor : the o b elisk s dedicated in h is honor : the
verses recited in h is honor : the dances danced by the Red Indians in
his honor : the m ask s worn by the A ztecs in his honor : the self-torture
endured by the Incas in h is honor : h is im portance to the life of the
earth, cut off h is rays for even a sin gle m onth and the earth would die :
h is im portance to the life of the so u l, cut off his rays for even a single
hour and the so u l would die : h is disturbing influence on the m otions
of the m oon : h is attraction for V enus : h is turbulence during a Transit
of V enus : h is contacts with V enus (internal and external) : h is cosm i-
cal significance : h is splendor and strength as sym bolised by the sem i­
nal energy of the ox : h is gold-fingered q u ietn ess in late Autum n : his
w h iten ess in the D esert : h is cold red n ess in Winter : h is dark and
sin ister appearance before a Storm : h is solid rotundity : h is definite­
n e ss of form : h is p o liten ess in stopping for J o sh u a : h is fascination for
Icarus : h is im portance to the A ncient M ariner: h is m o m en tou sn ess to
the P r o p h et: h is affiliation with H eliogabalus who married him to the
m oon : h is mad influence over A knaton : the reproductions of him by
Van Gogh : the reproductions of him on old co in s, on the American
twenty-dollar gold piece, on the ja ck ets of jo ck ey s, on soap advertise­
m ents, in old w oodcuts, on kindergarten blackboards, on the sign s of
old taverns : h is trem endous influence on religions (among the Vedic
Indians, am ong the A n cien t P ersia n s, am ong the A n cien t G reeks,
among the ind igenou s A m ericans, am ong the A ncient Rom ans, among
the Babylonians and A ssyrians, am ong the A ncient Egyptians, among
the H indoos am ong the J a p a n e s e ): the tem ples erected to h is glory (in
particular the great sun-tem ple of Baalbek) : his power of consum ing
so u ls : h is u nconcealed love for sun-dials (true as the dial to the s u n ) :
the height he attains at the meridian : h is family of asteroids : the
occurrence of h is nam e in ornithology, w itn ess the sun-bittern (eury-
pyga helias) : am ong the vertebrates, w itn ess the su n-fish or basking
shark : in horticulture w itn ess the tournesol, the heliotrope, the su n ­
flower (helianthus annus) the marigold and the so lsa ec e (from the
word solseq u iu m —sun-follow ing) : h is light —an uninterrupted con ­
tinuance of gradation from the burning su n sh in e of a tropical noon to
the pale lu m in osity that throws no shadow : h is faculae and flocculi :
his pederastic friendship with the Man in the Moon : the sm alln ess of
the target he offers to a m eteorite (soul) arrowing toward him from in­
finity : the different behaviour of h is spectral lin es w hich are believed
to originate at different levels and the relative Doppler displacem ents
of the sam e spectral lin es as given by h is receding and avancing lim bs :
h is im portance in the Nebular H ypothesis : h is personification in the
form of a mirror in Japan : in the form of Ra in Egypt : his halos,

— 93 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

rainbows and m irages : h is eclip ses, in particular the great Egyptian

E clipse of May 17 1882 : his naked n ess : his red effrontery : his hot-
tem p ered in to le r a n c e : h is a ttraction for th e earth (equal to the
breaking strain of a steel rod three thousand m iles in diameter) : his
temperature (if he were to com e as near as the m oon, the solid earth
would m elt like wax) his reflection in the eyes of a girl (perihelion and
aphelion) h is m ountains of flame which thrust upward into infinity :
the fantastic shap es of h is eruptive prom inences (solar-lizards sun-
dogs sharp crim son in c o lo r ): h is brilliant sp ik es or je ts, cyclon es and
geysers vertical filam ents and colum ns of liquid flame : the cyclonic
m otion of h is sp o ts : h is volcanic r e stle ssn e ss : his contortions : his
velocity of three or four hundred m iles an hour : h is coronoidal d is­
charges : h is cyclonic protuberances, whirling fire sp ou ts, fiery flam es
and furious com m otions : h is tunnel-shaped vortices : h is equatorial
acceleration : h is telluric storm s : h is vibrations : h is acrobatics among
the clo u d s : h is great display of su n -sp o ts : h is m agnetic storm s
(during which the com pass-needle is alm ost wild with ex citem en t): his
prom inences that have been se e n to rise in a few m inutes to elevations
of two and three hundred thousand m iles : h is frenzy of turm oil : his
periodic exp losion s : h is m adness in a lover’s heart.

[FEBRUARY 1929]

SOME OPINIONS [1 9 2 9 ]
— I find the Proclamation much the most unintelligible piece of writing in
the volume (which includes Gertrude Stein and A. Lincoln Gillespie Jr.)
and I wish that admirable writer, Hart Crane, whose name appears among
the signatories, had taken the Proclaiming in hand. Only one thing to me is
clear: after proclaiming their absolute independence of dictionaries and
grammars, and their faith in a fabulous world, nine-tenths of the writers re­
sume their normal regard for the reader and their unconquerable high-
school standard; the remaining tenth immediately become the absolute
dependents of James Joyce. This imitativeness is deplorable . . .
Peter Monro Jack in Manuscripts.

— 94 —
 S tu a rt DAVIS

& lu s trt D im s
G asoline P um p

[FALL 1928J

— 95 —
 IN tra n sitio n

tie C l i i r i c o
P a in ti n g
Giorgio de Chirico is of Sicilian origin, although he has m ade Paris his
headquarters for several years. He was born in Athens in 1888. His works
began to appear in various exhibitions about 1910, but his career was
interrupted by the war. during which time he served fo r Italy, im ay 19291

[JANUARY 1928]

— 96 —
 R obert DESNO S

THE DOVE OF THE ARK

l>.V l E o b e r ! l h ks i i » K

C u r sed

B e th e father o f th e wife
o f th e b la c k sm ith w h o forged th e iron o f th e h a tch et
w ith w h ich th e w o o d -cu tter h ew ed dow n th e oak
in w h ich s o m e o n e carved th e bed
w here th e great-grandfather w as en gen d ered
o f th e m an w h o drove th e w agon
in w h ich y o u r m o th er
m et y o u r father!

[APRIL 1927]

L A B A R B E !!!
This space is subscribed by an anonym ous advocate of:

The last interpreter of the ideas of Paul Valery.

The next to the la st interpreter of the ideas of Paul Valery.
The last interpreter of the la st interpreter of the ideas of Paul
Valery.
The next to the la st interpreter of the last interpreter of the
ideas o f Paul Valery.
The last interpreter o f the next to the last interpreter of the
ideas of Paul Valery.
The next to the la st interpreter o f the next to the la st interpreter
of the ideas of Paul Valery.

LA B A R B E !!!

[DECEMBER 1927]

— 97 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

MIDNIGHT AT TWO
O’CLOCK
A l l E x p e r i m e n t in M o d e r n M a g i c

b y R o ll e r ! D e s n o s

[Silent Film Scenario]

1. A villa in the country. View of the country. Hills, fields, woods.
A river. A bridge over th is river.
2. The occu p an ts o f the villa. A m an (35 years old) and h is m istress.
3. They walk out of the villa. The road.
4. Arrival at the station. Arrival of the train.
5. The person they cam e to m eet. A m an, rather young (28 years
old). G etting off the train. S h ak in g hand s.
6. Towards the villa.
7. The garden. All three around a table laden w ith glasses and
bottles.
8. The lover goes out.
9. Exchange of k isse s betw een the w om an and the new arrival.
10. T he n ex t m orn in g. D eparture o f th e three characters on a
fish ing expedition.
11. The bridge seen at the begin ning. All three are fishing.
12. The w om an and the young m an are bored: “W e a re g o in g f o r a
stro ll. ”
13. The lover keeps on fishing. The cork in the current.
14. The stroll of the w om an and the young m an. K isses up till the
m om ent w hen they near the bridge hid den by brushw ood.
15. The lover tries to disengage h is line w h ich is caught in the
w eeds.
16. He leans towards the parapet. Leans over still further and falls.
17. Circles in the water.
18. At the top of a hill a p easan t w ho saw the fall. He runs.
19. Arrival of the two other characters at the bridge. They call their
com panion. They lean on the parapet: circles in the water.
20. The su n . D izzin ess of the two strollers. White circles dance
around them .
21. The fishin g line in the current, down the river.
22. Arrival of the peasant. E xplanations.
23. Circles in the water.
24. A barge. A ttem pts at recovery w ith a boat-hook.

— 98
 R obert DESNO S

25. The b an k of the river, dow nstream . The body of a drowned m an

at the foot of a tree.
26. Evening. The w om an and her y ou n g lover pensive at a window.
27. The round se ttin g su n .
28. K isses.
29. Their eyes in the foreground. The round pupils.
30. Night. The lighted lam p. The circle of light on the ceiling. The
circle m ade by the lam p-shade on the floor.
31. Separation to go to bed.
32. Night. The b ig round m oon seen through the w indow of the
bedroom s.
33. The next day. B reakfast. The round plates. The round table
m ats.
34. The lovers look at each other in silence.
35. Circles in the water.
36. The round knob of the door tu rn s slowly. The door opens. The
two lovers w atch it open. Nobody com es in.
3 7 . T h rou gh th e door can be se e n the road alon g w h ich there
p a sses a little boy playing w ith h is hoop, and a cart w ith large w heels
(in the foreground).
38. Circles in the water.
39. One even ing at bedtim e.
40. The lover sleep in g in h is bed.
41. The w om an sleep in g in her bed.
42. Dream of the lover. The place V endom e. q uite deserted, where
he is w alking, th en the Place de la Concorde.
43. T hen the Tour Eiffel. First pale then very clear vision of the “Big
W heel” in th e background.
44. T hen the Place des V ictoires.
45. The w om an ’s dream: S h e is ju m p in g th rou gh a su c ce ssio n of
paper-covered hoops. S h e finds h erself in a deserted church.
46. The priest is officiating, the h o st in h is hand, ju st about to be
elevated.
47. The h o st increases in size out of all proportion as he holds it.
48. A halo appears b eh in d the head of the priest w ho takes on the
conventional appearance of a sain t.
49. Fear of the w om an w ho leaves the church.
50. A beggar at the C hurch door. S h e gives him two p ennies.
51. The beggar drops h is hat out of w h ich falls a m ultitude of coins,
a real torrent, before w h ich the w om an flees.
52. S h e arrives at the Place des V ictoires. M eeting w ith her lover.
53. As they are about to em brace, the torrent of p en n ies appears
from the rue V ide-G ousset.
54. It sub m erges the Place.

— 99 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

55. The lover in a torrent w hich carries him off. He lands on a

narrow beach. As he is about to rise the water seizes him again. Im­
pression of drow ning. A wakening.
56. The w om an under a m ass of coins, in a cellar. O ppression.
Awakening.
57. Calm n ig h t outside. The round m oon.
58. The staircase of the villa. The landing of the third and top floor.
The lovers have their room s on the second floor.
59. Appearance of a ball the size of a croquet ball.
60. The ball goes down the stairs, step by step, slowly.
61. The ball p a sses the landing of the floor where the two lovers are
sleeping.
62. It keeps on going down.
63. A w akening of the m an. He listen s. He gets up.
64. The ball w hich has reached the ground floor goes out the door.
65. It gets lost in the garden.
66. The m an on the stairs, th en on the first floor. He looks about,
opens the doors. N othing.
67. The w om an leaves her room. ‘‘W h a t is th e m a tte r? I th o u g h t I
h e a r d a n o ise — I too. ”
68. The next day. B oth seated in the garden. A round balloon in the
sky over their heads.
69. T hen ten n is players at the side of the garden. A stray ball falls
on the table.
70. U n easin ess.
71. Walk out in the country.
72. In a clearing, croquet players.
73. On the road the cart w ith the big w heels (in the foreground):
the little boy w ith the hoop.
74. Further on, a worker in a field. J u st as they p ass, he stops
plou ghin g and digs in the earth. The two walkers w atch him . He u n ­
covers a can n on ball, the vestige of a former war.
75. R eturn, both thoughtful.
76. At hom e. The cat.
77. The w om an w an ts to caress it. Suddenly the cat turns into a
ball. Ciy of the w om an, the m an turns around. Fright.
78. Slowly the ball becom es a cat again.
79. He. He caresses the cat w h ich rubs a gain st h is legs.
80. Night.
81. Sam e as 58.
82. Sam e as 59.
83. Sam e as 60.
84. He aw akens, listen s, rises and goes out w ith an electric lamp in
h is hand.

100 —
 R obert DESNO S

85. He m eets the w om an on the landing.

86. The ball co n tin u es on down.
87. He tu rn s the light on the step . The ball rolls down lighted up.
88. Fright of the two lovers on the stairs.
89. The next day at lunch.
90. The door-knob.
91. It tu rn s. T he door o p en s. T he two lu n c h in g togeth er turn
about.
92. E ntrance of the ball.
93. The two heroes rise, kn ock in g over a chair.
94. The ball tu rn s around them , th en leaves.
95 to 112. R epetition of 8 9 to 9 4 , w ith only a few differences in
detail, each tim e on a different day. The ball lingers more and more.
113 to 116. S am e as 8 9 , 9 0 , 91, 92.
117. The two characters do not even rise now. They are as though
petrified.
118. The ball ju m p s on the table.
119. The ball approaches the plates w h ich are em ptied.
120. The follow ing days. The ball n ow h a s its place set at the table.
The food placed before it disappears. The ball h a s grown bigger. It is
like a foot-ball.
121. T hrough the w indow . Foot-ball players. A spherical balloon in
the sky. A belfry w ith its clock.
122. The m an throw s h is napkin on the floor, and w ith hard kicks
se n d s the ball throu gh the w indow .
123. The ball qu ite tiny on the road. It rolls along. It p a sses a grade
crossin g, a village, a wood, a village, fields, a forest, the toll-gate of
Paris. It rolls across the streets in the Place de la B astille, Place Ven-
dom e, Place des V ictoires, Place de la Concorde, from the Trocadero
to the Tour Eiffel, w ith o u t apparently b ein g noticed, it leaves Paris,
the country, the sea: the ball rolls on the waves: boats, an island. The
ball rolls along the beach and sto p s in a luxuriant and equatorial
forest.
124. The couple in the villa, delivered from their night-m are.
125. The ball in the forest. It absorbs birds w h ich graze again st it,
little sn ak es, rabbits etc. It grow s in size becom es as big as a drum ,
th en a b a ss drum , th en a h o u se. S o o n it absorbs w hole trees.
126. The couple in the villa. It is w inter. The trees bare. Snow on
the ground.
127. One night: th e villa. The round m oon.
128. The forest of the ball.
129. The ball starts to move.
130. It retraces exactly, in the opp osite direction, the road it cam e
on, only at n igh t. Its en orm ou s b u t alm ost im m aterial m ass passes

— 101 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

over the sea , th en th ro u g h Paris: th en the country. It ca sts an

im m ense shadow a gain st the sky.
131. The villa.
132. The ball at the top of a hill dom inatin g the villa.
133. The villa.
134. The ball rolls down the hill.
135. It arrives at the hou se.
136. J u s t as it arrives at the h ou se, everything, ball and h ou se, d is­
appears, as th ou gh swallowed up.
137. The round m oon.
138. Dawn. In place of the h o u se a vast funnel.
139. Arrival of two gendarm es. They look at the funnel, sig n s of
asto n ish m en t.
140. A little later, p ea sa n ts,? A ston ish m ent.
141. N ight, the m oon.
142. Daytim e, a round balloon in the sky. A little boy plays w ith a
hoop along the road. Croquet players. A cart; (the w heels in the fore­
ground).
143 to 154. N ight, the m oon. S u ccessio n of day and n igh t on the
deserted funnel (each tim e the m oon grow s slim m er until it becom es
a slender crescent).
155. One m orning. A utom obilists stop.
156. A shepherd.
157. Q uestion by the autom ob ilists. S ign of ignorance from the
shepherd.
158. The little boy w ith the hoop.
159. The sphere in the sky.
160. Circles in the water.
161. The sphere in the sky.

N ote. - Each tim e that the ball appears, the orchestra plays, “L a
C a rm a g n o le". The rest of the tim e traditional m oving-picture m usic.
No artistic m u sic, m oving picture m usic.

Translated fro m the French by MARIA JOLAS.

[FALL 1928]

— 102 —
 Paul ELUARD

A DREAM
bvl®sfi«l Elu»g*<l

I M E E T H E R O N T H E S ID E W A L K O F A D E S E R T E D P A R I S S T R E E T . T H E S K Y
o f an in d e fin ite c o lo r g iv e s m e th e fe e lin g o f g reat p h y sic a l
liberty. I do n o t s e e th e face o f th e w om an w h o is th e co lo r o f th e
h our, b u t I find great p lea su re in n o t tak in g m y e y e s from th e
p lace w h ere s h e is . S o m eh o w I se e m to be p a ssin g th rou gh th e
four s e a s o n s . A t th e en d o f a lo n g m om en t, th e w om an slo w ly
u n tie s th e k n o ts o f th e m u lti-co lo red rib bon s s h e h a s on h er
b r e a sts and body. T h en appears h er face, w h ite and hard a s
m arble.
Translated from the French by EUGENE JOLAS.
[MAY 1927]

IN COMPANY
( § u r r e a liK t T e x t)

b y P a u l E ln a r d

l DO NOT MOURN — BUT M ERELY B EC A U SE MOURNING IS AN INSUFFICIENT

form of d e s p a ir —th e tim e w h en I w as s u s p ic io u s , o r still h oped to have
an e n em y to v a n q u ish , so m e d e n t to m ak e in h u m a n n a tu re , o r som e
sac red h idin g p lace. S u sp ic io n w as th e n still th e sto p , th e delectable
s u b s ta n tia tio n o f th e finite. A th re a d draw n by a sw allow w hich, o p e n ­
w inged, form s th e p o in t o f th e arrow , a n d d is to rts th e ap p e aran ce of
m an a s well a s h is reality . T he w ind will n o t go w here m an w an ts it to
go. L uckily. T h e se are th e fro n tie rs of e rro r, h e re are th e blind w ho do

— 103 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

n o t w an t to p u t th e ir feet w here th e step is m issin g , h ere are th e m ute

w ho th in k w ith w ords, h e re are th e deaf w ho bid th e w orld’s n o ise s
grow silen t.
The tire d lim bs, m y w ord, do n o t se p a ra te easily. T heir ig norance of
so litu d e p rev en ts th e m from giving th em selv es up to crafty individual
ex p erien ces of am u sin g p h y siq u e, c ru m b s of th e g re at re st, so m any
m in u te b u r s ts of la u g h te r of th e w ista ria s an d aca cias in th e settin g .
The sp rin g of v irtu e is n o t dried up. Large b eau tifu l eyes th a t are
wide o pen serve still for th e c o n te m p la tio n of in d u s trio u s h a n d s th a t
have never d o n e evil a n d th a t are b ored an d bore everyone else. The
low est rec k o n in g c lo se s th e s e eyes each day. T hey favor sleep only to
plunge la te r o n in to th e co n te m p la tio n of in d u s trio u s h a n d s th a t have
never d o n e evil an d are b o red an d bore everyone else. Odi ous trade!
All th is lives: th is p a tie n t in s e c t body, th is loving bird body, th is loyal
m am m ifero u s body, a n d th is lean an d vain body of th e b e a s t of my
child h o o d , all th is lives. Only its h ead h a s died. I h ad to kill it. My face
u n d e rs ta n d s m e n o longer. A nd th e re are n o o th e rs.
Translated from the French by EUGENE JOLAS.
[MAY 1927]

GEORGES IBRAQUE
b y l* s in l E 1 i b «i a *(1

/ k BIRD FLIES AWAY,

It th ro w s off th e clo u d s lik e a u s e le s s veil,
It nev er feared the light,
E n clo sed in its flight,
It nev er h ad a shadow .
H arvest s h e lls b ro k e n by th e su n .
All th e leaves in th e w oods say yes,
They only know how to say yes,
E ach q u e stio n , e a c h answ er,
A nd th e dew flows in th e d e p th s of th is yes.
A m an w ith so ft eyes d e sc rib e s th e sk y of love.
He g a th e rs its w onders
Like leaves in a wood,
Like b ird s in th e ir w ings,
A nd m en in th e ir slu m b er.
Translated from the French by EUGENE JOLAS.
[MAY 1927]

— 104 —
 Max ERNST

M a x E rn ^ l
M er et O iseau

The exhibition of the works of Max Ernsi. at the

Van Leer galleries, has already proven to be an event
of highest importance. Many of those who had
taken the Surrealistes too lightly have been
brought to a realization of their error, [m ay 1927]

[APRIL 1927]

— 105 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

POEM
b y N orge E s e n i n

TA h e n t h e m o o n w il l s w im a n d s w i m ,
Letting the oars fall into the lake;
And R ussia will always live like this,
Dancing and w eeping at the gate.

Translated from the Russian by GUSTA ZIMBALIST AND EUGENE JOLAS.

(JUNE 1927]

MOST MAGAZINES
ARE W ORTHLESS
A MONTH AFTER
THEIR APPEARANCE

T R A N S I T I O N IS T H E
ONE R E V I E W WH O S E
BACK NUMBERS INCREASE
CONTINUALLY IN VALUE
[FALL 1928]

— 106 —
 A ndre GIDE

ROUNDELAY OF THE
POMEC KANATE
l» v I ih Ib t G id r

% S h O U L D Y OU S E E K Y E T A LO N G W HILE
T h e im p o s s ib le h a p p in e s s o f th e s o u l,
- J o y s o f th e fle s h a n d jo y s o f th e s e n s e s
May a n o th e r c o n d e m n y o u , if h e lik e s ,
B itte r jo y s o f th e fle s h a n d th e s e n s e s —
May h e c o n d e m n y o u —I d a re n o t.

—T o b e s u r e , I a d m ire y o u , D id ie r, fe rv e n t p h ilo s o p h e r,
If fa ith in y o u r t h o u g h t le a d s y o u to b e lie v e
T h a t n o th in g is p re fe ra b le to th e jo y o f th e s p irit.
B u t n o t in a ll s p ir its c a n th e r e b e s u c h lo v es.

To b e s u r e , I love th e m , to o ,
M o rtal q u a k in g s o f m y s o u l,
J o y s o f th e h e a r t, jo y s o f th e s p i r i t -
B u t it is o f y o u , p le a s u r e s , I s in g .

J o y s o f th e fle s h , te n d e r a s g r a s s ,
C h a rm in g a s th e h e d g e flo w e rs
M ow n o r w ith e r e d s o o n e r th a n th e m e a d o w g r a s s ,
O r th e s a d s p ir a e t h a t s h e d s its le a v e s w h e n to u c h e d .

S ig h t - th e m o s t d i s tr e s s in g o f o u r s e n s e s . . .
E v e ry th in g we c a n n o t to u c h g rie v e s u s ;
T h e s p ir it s e iz e s m o re e a s ily th e th o u g h t
T h a n o u r h a n d t h a t w h ic h o u r e y e s c o v et.
—O! m a y y o u o n ly d e s ir e th in g s y o u c a n to u c h —
N a th a n ie l, a n d s e e k n o t a m o re p e r f e c t p o s s e s s io n .
T h e s w e e te s t jo y s o f m y s e n s e s
Have b e e n q u e n c h e d t h i r s t s .

T o b e s u r e , th e m is t a t s u n - u p o n th e p la in s is lovely —
A n d lovely th e s u n —

— 107 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

Lovely u n d e r o u r b a re fe e t is th e d a m p e a r th ,
A n d th e s a n d m a d e w e t b y th e se a ;
Lovely w as th e w a te r o f s p r in g s w h e n w e w a n te d to b a th e ;
Lovely it w a s to k is s th e u n k n o w n lip s to u c h e d by m in e
in th e s h a d o w . . .

B u t o f fr u its —o f fr u its - N a th a n ie l, w h a t s h a ll I s a y ?

—O! t h a t y o u h av e n o t k n o w n th e m ,
N a th a n ie l, d riv e s m e to d e s p a ir . . .
, . . T h e ir p u lp w a s d e lic io u s a n d ju ic y ,
S av o ry a s b le e d in g fle s h ,
R ed a s b lo o d tr ic k lin g fro m a w o u n d .
. . . T h e s e , N a th a n ie l, d id n o t re q u ire a s p e c ia l th ir s t;
T h e y w ere s e rv e d in g o ld e n b a s k e ts ;
A t firs t, in c o m p a ra b ly flat, th e ir ta s te w as s ic k e n in g ,
U n lik e t h a t o f a n y o th e r f r u it o n e a rth ;
It re c a lle d th e t a s te o f o v e r-rip e In d ia n p e a rs ,
A n d th e p u lp s e e m e d life le s s ;
It le ft a b itte r a fte r - ta s te in th e m o u th ,
W h ic h o n ly th e e a tin g o f a n o th e r o n e w o u ld h e al;
Its th r ill h a rd ly la s te d lo n g e r
T h a n th e m o m e n t o f ta s tin g th e ju ic e ;
A n d th e n ic e r t h a t m o m e n t s e e m e d ,
T h e fla tte r a n d m o re n a u s e a tin g b e c a m e th e a fte r-ta s te .
Q u ic k ly th e b a s k e t w a s e m p tie d . . .
A n d w e le ft th e la s t o n e th e r e in
R a th e r th a n d iv id e it.

A las! N a th a n ie l, w h o c a n s a y o f o u r lip s
W h a t m a d e th e m b u r n s o b itte rly ?
No w a te r c o u ld w a s h th e m —
T h e d e s ir e fo r t h e s e fr u its to r tu r e d o u r v ery s o u ls .

F o r th r e e d a y s, o n o u r w a lk s , we s o u g h t th e m ;
T h e ir s e a s o n w as over.
W h ere s h a ll w e fin d , N a th a n ie l, in o u r w a n d e rin g s ,
New fr u its to give u s o th e r d e s ir e s ?
T h e re a re th o s e w e s h a ll e a t o n te r r a c e s ,
B efo re th e s e a a n d th e s u n s e t.
T h e re a re th o s e p re s e rv e d in s u g a re d g la z e
W ith a d ro p o f b ra n d y in s id e .

— 108 —
 A ndre GIDE

T h e re a re th o s e to b e p ic k e d fro m th e tr e e s
Of p riv a te g a r d e n s w ith w a lls a ro u n d ,
W h ic h o n e e a ts in th e s h a d e d u r in g th e tro p ic a l s e a s o n .
We w ill a rr a n g e little ta b le s —
T h e f r u its w ill fall a b o u t u s ,
W h en w e s h a k e th e b r a n c h e s ,
A n d th e to rp id flie s w ill w a k e .
T h e fa lle n f r u its w ill b e g a th e r e d in to b o w ls,
A n d e v en th e ir fra g ra n c e w ill b e e n o u g h to e n c h a n t u s . . .

T h e re a re th o s e th e r in d o f w h ic h s t a i n s th e lip s
a n d w h ic h w e e a t o n ly w h e n we a re v ery th ir s ty .
We fo u n d th e m a lo n g s a n d y ro a d s ;
T h e y g le a m e d th r o u g h th e th o r n y fo liag e
W h ic h to re o u r h a n d s w h e n w e tr ie d to p lu c k th e m ;
A n d o u r t h i r s t w a s h a rd ly q u e n c h e d .
T h e re a re th o s e fro m w h ic h je llie s a re m a d e ,
M erely by le ttin g th e m c o o k in th e s u n .
T h e re a re th o s e th e fle s h o f w h ic h , in s p ite o f w in te r, r e m a in s s o u r;
O u r te e th a re o n e d g e , w h e n w e b ite in to th e m .
T h e re a re th o s e th e fle s h o f w h ic h , e v e n in s u m m e r,
s e e m s a lw a y s c o ld .
We e a t th e m , s q u a tte d o n r u s h - m a ts ,
In little in n s .
T h e re a re th o s e th e m e m o ry o f w h ic h e q u a ls a th ir s t,
W h e n w e c a n fin d th e m n o lo n g e r.

N a th a n ie l, s h a ll I s p e a k to y o u o f p o m e g r a n a te s ?
T h e y w ere s o ld fo r a few p e n n ie s , a t th a t O rie n ta l fair,
U p o n re e d c r a te s in w h ic h th e y h a d tu m b le d a b o u t.
We sa w s o m e o f th e m ro ll fa r in to th e d u s t,
A n d n a k e d c h ild r e n g a th e r th e m .
- T h e ir ju ic e is b itte r - s w e e t lik e t h a t o f u n r ip e r a s p b e r r ie s .

T h e ir b lo s s o m s a re lik e w ax,
H aving th e c o lo r o f th e fru it.
G u a rd e d tr e a s u r e , h iv e -lik e s e c tio n s ,

A b u n d a n c e o f sa v o r,
P e n ta g o n a l a r c h ite c tu r e .
T h e r in d b u r s t s , th e s e e d s fall -
S e e d s o f b lo o d in a z u r e c u p s ;
A n d o th e r s , d ro p s o f go ld , m d is h e s o f e n a m e le d b ro n z e .

— 109 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

Now s in g o f th e fig, S im ia n e ,
B e c a u s e its lo v es a re h id d e n .
I s in g o f th e fig, s h e sa id ,
A n d its b e a u tifu l h id d e n lo v es.
Its b lo o m in g is d e e p ly e n fo ld e d .
Fig! S e c r e t ro o m w h e re n u p tia ls a re h eld :
No p e rfu m e c a r r ie s th e ir ta le o u ts id e .
S in c e n o n e o f it e s c a p e s ,
All th e fra g ra n c e b e c o m e s s u c c u le n c e a n d sa v o r.
F lo w er w ith o u t b e a u ty ; f r u it o f d e lig h ts ;
F ru it w h ic h is o n ly its r ip e n e d b lo s s o m .

I h av e s u n g th e fig, s h e sa id .
Now s in g a ll th e flo w e rs . . .

T h e a c id w ild p lu m o f th e h e d g e s ,
W h ich th e c o ld s n o w s w e e te n s .
T h e m e d la r e a te n o n ly w h e n r o tte n ;
A n d th e c h e s t n u t, th e c o lo r o f d e a d le a v e s,
W h ich we s e t to b u r s t b e fo re th e fire.

(Authorized translation fro m the French by EUGENE JOLAS.)

[APRIL 1927]

SOME OPINIONS [1 9 2 9 ]
—Forem ost in leading . . . th e present-day effort to re-make the English
language is the periodical called transition (Paris), Don’t accuse us of a
blunder; th e lower case is elevated and capitals, as may be observed in
m uch m odern poetry, are left moldering in th eir cases . . .
- The Literary Digest in "Lewis Carroll Redivivus.”

— 110 —
 A ndre GIDE

FOOD OF THE EARTH

I pv A n d i ^ 4 O i d < k

N
X N a t h a n ie l , i s h a l l talk t o y o u a b o u t w a it in g .
I h av e se e n th e p la in w a it a fte r su m m e r; w a it for a b it of ra in . T he
d u s t of th e ro a d h a d b eco m e too lig h t a n d e a c h b r e a th of a ir w h irre d
it u p w a rd . It w as n o t even a d e sire an y m o re; it w as a n a p p re h e n sio n .
T h e e a r th w a s c ra c k in g w ith d ry n e s s , b e tte r to w elcom e th e w ater.
T h e sm ell o f th e flow ers o n th e h e a th e r b ecam e w elln igh u n b e a ra b le .
E v e ry th in g sw o o n ed b e n e a th th e s u n . E very a fte rn o o n we re ste d on
th e te rra c e sh e lte re d so m e w h a t from th e e x tra o rd in a ry b rillian c e of
th e day. T h a t w as th e tim e , w h e n th e c o n e tre e s, c h a rg e d w ith pollen,
s tir th e ir b r a n c h e s lig h tly in o rd e r to s c a tte r th e ir f ru itfu ln e s s far a n d
n e a r. T h e sk y h a d b eco m e s to rm y a n d all n a tu r e w as w a itin g . T he
m o m e n t w as too o p p re ssin g ly so le m n , for all th e b ird s h a d becom e
m u te . T h e re ro se from th e e a r th s u c h a flam in g b r e a th th a t one
a lm o s t fa in te d , a n d th e p o lle n o f th e fir-tre e s c a m e like a g o ld en
sm o k e from th e b ra n c h e s . - T h e n it ra in e d .
I have se e n th e sk y tre m b le w ith w a itin g for d aw n . O ne by o ne th e
s ta r s w e n t o u t. T h e m ead o w s w ere flooded w ith dew; th e a ir h a d only
icy c a re sse s. It seem ed for so m e tim e t h a t life dim ly o u tlin e d w an te d
to lin g e r for sleep, a n d m y h e a d , still tire d , b ecam e filled w ith to rp o r. I
w alked to th e edge o f th e w ood; I s a t dow n; ea c h b e a s t took u p its
w o rk once m o re, a n d its jo y in th e c e rta in ty th a t th e d ay w ould com e,
a n d th e m y ste ry of life b e g a n to s tir a g a in in every in d e n ta tio n of th e
leaves. - T h e n cam e th e day.

I have also se e n o th e r d a w n s —I hav e se e n th e w a itin g for n ig h t.

N a th a n ie l, m a y every a c t o f w a itin g in yo u b e n o t even a d esire —b u t

sim p ly a d is p o s itio n for w elco m in g it. —A w ait ev e ry th in g th a t com es
to you —b u t d e sire only th a t w h ic h co m es to y o u —Do n o t d e sire a n y ­
th in g save w h a t you h av e . . . U n d e rs ta n d th a t a t e a c h m o m e n t of th e
d ay you m ay p o s s e s s G od in h is to tality . — May y o u r d esire be love,
a n d y o u r p o s s e s s io n a m o u ro u s . . . for w h a t is a d e sire th a t is n o t
efficacio u s?

— Ill —
 IN tra n sitio n

Really, N ath an iel, you p o sse ss G od a n d you h a d n o t n o tice d it! —To

p o sse ss G od is to see h im ; b u t o ne does n o t look a t h im . D id you n ot,
alo n g a n y p a th , B alaam , see God, w h en y o u r a s s sto p p e d before h im ?
—b e c a u se you, you im a g in e d h im differently. — B u t, N ath an iel, it is
only G od o ne c a n n o t w a it for. —To w ait for God, N ath an iel, m e a n s
n o t to u n d e r s ta n d th a t you alread y p o sse ss h im . —Do n o t d is tin g u is h
God from h a p p in e s s a n d p u t all y o u r h a p p in e s s in to th e m o m en t.

I have c a rrie d all m y b e lo n g in g s in m e, like th e w om en of th e pale

O rie n t w h o c a rry th e ir e n tir e f o rtu n e w ith th e m . At every little
m o m e n t of m y life I have b e e n able to feel in m e th e to ta lity of m y
belo n g in g s. It w as n o t by th e a c c u m u la tio n of m a n y special th in g s,
b u t m erely by w o rs h ip p in g th e m . I h av e c o n s ta n tly k e p t all m y
b elo n g in g s w ith in m y pow er.

Look a t th e ev en in g a s if th e day w ere to die th e re ;

A nd a t th e m o rn in g , a s if ev ery th in g w ere b e in g b o rn th ere.
M a y y o u r v isio n b e n e w a t e v e ry m o m e n t.
T he w ise m a n is h e w h o m e v ery th in g a s to n is h e s .

All th e fatig u e of y o u r h e a d , N ath an iel, com es from th e div ersity of

y o u r goods. You do n o t even k n o w w h ich one a m o n g a ll o th ers you
p refer a n d you do n o t u n d e r s ta n d th a t th e only good is life. T he
sm a lle st m o m e n t of life is s tro n g e r th a n d e a th , a n d d e n ie s it. D ea th
is only th e fu rlo u g h for a n o th e r life —so th a t e v ery th in g m ay be c ease­
lessly ren ew ed —so th a t n o form of life r e ta in th a t lo nger th a n it n eed s
to say th is. H appy th e m o m e n t, w h e n y o u r w o rd echoes. All th e re st of
th e tim e, lis te n —b u t w h e n you sp e a k , do n o t liste n anym ore.

You m u s t b u r n all b o o k s in you, N ath an iel.

[NOVEMBER 1927]

SOME OPINIONS [1 9 2 9 ]
—transition, the official organ of revolt in America today . . .
—Horace Gregory in the New York Sun.

— 112 —
 Claire and Ivan GOLL

P O E M S

l i v C l s i i i T siimI I v a n Ch o II

Ivan to Claire

OME TIMES MY DEAD HEART CRIES IN THE NIGHT

L ike an old p r e s s th a t creak s

A nd reca lls th e tim e of th e p in k cherry-trees
An old n eed to com p lain
T o w rite your nam e on a p a ssin g cloud
T o lo o k a t a m eadow w h ose w illow s you on ce sa n g
S o m etim es s t ill I op en my eyes
B eh in d m yopic b lin d s
L ike b un galow s for rent by th e se a
T he ow ner o f w h ich is unknow n

Claire to Ivan

I am afraid w hen you sle ep

When you p u t o u t th e se a rc h -lig h t o f you r eyes
I fear th e en d o f th e w orld
When you are n o t on w atch
L a st n ig h t I d rank th e m oon from your h and
You gave m e th e n octu rn al w ind
In sm all d o se s
T o calm my fever
B u t now th a t you travel am ong th e sta r s
I trem b le in th e ou ter hall
A ll m y te a r s in my sa tch el
A nd th e p h oto o f your h eart
A nd a n ose-gay o f w ithered sm ile s
A nd I fear stella r ca tastrop h y.

Ivan to Claire

3 9 d egrees
A carnaval o f fever an d sc a rle t
B u r sts in your h ead ,
A w ild fe a s t g o e s on th ere,

— 113 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

Flam ing sh ad ow s k is s you,

The drunken g o d s carry you off
Tow ards th e m ou n tain s o f death!
A nd I, in my p riso n o f flesh ,
S u fferin g from norm al h ealth
In th e cold o f every day
C aptive b eh in d th e b ars o f rain
I a tten d your orgy
Like a poor m an before a m ystery b ooth
H is fee t su n k in th e m ire

Claire to Ivan

T ear me in to a th o u sa n d p ie c e s,
Royal tig e r o f my heart!
M utilate my sm ile,
W rench from me c r ie s greater th an my body,
P lan t in p lace o f my red h air
The w hite h air o f sorrow ,
Make my feet grow old
A s th ry w ait for you in vain ,
A nd w aste all my te a r s in an hour:
I can only lic k your hand.
Translated from the French by EUGENE JOLAS.

[JUNE 1930]

SOME OPINIONS [1 9 2 9 ]
The revolution of the English word having been accom plished, th a t revo­
lution is now proclaim ed. The proclam ation appears in the spring-sum m er
num ber of th at generally unintelligible periodical called Transition. Its u n ­
intelligibility is th e re s u lt of in te n tio n n o t accident. The proclam ation
appears in a type format suggesting the chorus of trum pets in «Aida» ju s t
before the conquering Rhadam es appears on the scene. Hear ye, hear ye!
. . . It will be observed th a t the proclam ation against gram m ar and syntax is
gram m atically correct and th a t the signers of the proclam ation continue to
be designated by conventional nam es - two of the signers have middle
initials —instead of by esoteric num bers.
—Harry Salpeter in the New York World.

— 114 —
 Claire and Ivan GOLL

P O E M S

h v Clstiire a n d I v a n G o l l

Ivan to Claire

CV ome back;

I shall invent a fifth seaso n for u s alone,

Where th e oysters will have wings,
Where the birds will sing Stravinsky,
And th e golden hesperides
Will ripen to fig-trees.

I shall change all th e calendars,

T hat lack th e dates of your vanished trysts,
And on th e m aps of Europe
I shall efface the roads of your flights.

Come back:
The world will be born again,
The com pass will have a new North:
Your heart.

Claire to Ivan

M
* W » A Y W EEDS GROW UNDER YOUR STEPS;
May the p oisonous saffron p u rsu e you,
May hem lock border th e roads
Of your slumber!

I am preparing a celestial aperitif for you:

The strychnine of my thoughts,
And my tears —drops of belladonna.

Soon I shall wait no longer for the night

To sob like the owl.
Translated fro m the French by MADELEINE REID.

[JANUARY 1928]

— 115 —
 IN tra n sitio n

O JORKOCK8, IHAVE
PROMISED
|>y K o b o r t b r a v o s

% S p R U N G OF NO WORTHIER PARENTAGE OF SUN

In F ebruary, an d fire-side an d th e snow
S tre a k e d o n th e n o rth sid e of each wall an d hedge,
A nd b re a k fa st, late, in bed, and a tall puppy
R e stle ss for s tic k s to fetch an d tu s s le over,
A nd J o r r o c k s baw ling from th e lib rary shelf,
A nd th e a c c u m u la tio n of n ew sp ap ers
A nd th e day-after-judgem ent-day to face —
T his poem (only w ell-bred on o n e side,
F a th e r a grum , m o th e r a lady’s maid)
A sked for a sty le, a place in lite ra tu re .
So, sin c e th e m o rn in g h a d been w holly sp o ilt
By s u n , by snow , b re a k fa st in bed, th e puppy,
By lite ra tu re , a h e a d a c h e an d th e ir h ead ach es;
T hrow ing aw ay th e r e s t of my bad day
I gave it style, le t it be lite ra tu re
Only too well, a n d le t it talk itse lf
A nd m e to b oredom , le t it draw lu n c h o u t
From o ne o ’clock to th re e w ith n u ts and sm o k in g
W hile it w en t talk in g on, w ith im agery,
Why it w as w h at it w as, a n d h ad no b reeding
B ut w aste th in g s an d th e am b itio n to be real;
A nd flattered m e w ith puppy g ratitu d e.
I le t it m iss th e o n e tra in back to tow n
A nd sta y to tea and su p p e r an d a bed
A nd even b ed -in -b reak fast th e n ex t m orning.
More th a n k s .
T he p en alty of au th o rsh ip ;
Forced h o sp itality , an im p o ten ce
E xpecting a n im p o ssib le re tu rn
Not only from th e plainly stu p id c h an ce
B ut from im p o ssib le c a d d ish n e ss, no less.
I an sw ered leading q u e s tio n s a b o u t Poe
A nd let it p h o to g rap h m e in th e snow
A nd gave it a sig n ed copy of itse lf

— 116 —
 R obert GRAVES

A nd “th e n u rs e ry m oney-box is o n th e shelf,

How k in d o f you to give th e m ea c h a p en n y .”

O J o r r o c k s I have p ro m ise d
To serve th e e to th e end,
To e n te rta in y o u n g In d ian s,
T he p u p ils of m y friend,
To e n te rta in E to n ia n s
A nd for th e ir sa k e com bine
The w it of T. S. E liot,
The g race of G ertru d e S tein .
Be th o u forever n e a r me
To h a s te n o r co n tro l,
T h o u L iterary S u p p lem en t,
T h o u G u ard ian of m y so u l.
I sh a ll n o t fear th e b a ttle
W hile th o u a rt by m y side
Nor w an d er from th e pathw ay
If th o u s h a lt be m y guide.
A m en.

[OCTOBER 1927]

SOME OPINIONS [1 9 2 9 ]
—Very personal, although eclectic, Transition a sse rts itself more and more
. . . as the exchange pa r excellence between France-Europe-America.
- Regis M ichaud in L itterature A m ericaine, Kra, Paris.

— 117 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

•Jnstn C*i*iK
Painting
From the collection of Miss Gertrude Stein

[MAY 1927]

— 118 -
 Ju a n GRIS

«lus«n Gri^
Still Life

LJULY 1927]

— 119 —
 IN tra n sitio n

G e « rj» ’ C r o s s
The Little Agitator

[JUNE 1930]

— 120 —
 H. D.

CJ1FT
b y H .l> .

lA K D E N T
yet chill and formal,
how I ache
to tem pt a ch isle
as a sculptor, take
th is one,
replacing th is and th is and th is
for som e defect
of point, of blade, of hilt;

in answ er to my thw arted fingers, make

as from the clear edge of som e glacier-drift,
a slim am phora,
a m ost graciou s vase;

instead of ranging
from your shoulders' straigh t
clear line, u n in terru pted stretch
of snow , w ith light
of som e daw n-cloud on it,
I’d calm my h an d s
ag a in st th is p riceless th ing,
ch isle it, circum scribe
set pattern, form al-wise,
in set w ith stiff aca n th u s leaves and bays;

and w here som e boulder

sh elves out in som e place
w here ice curves back
like sea-w aves w ith the crest
of each green ripple
frozen marble w ise,

— 121 —
 IN tra n sitio n

under that rock that holds

the first swift k iss
of the sp rin g-su n ’s w hite, incand escen t breath,
I’d seek
you flowers:
(ah flowers
that sweetly fall and rest
softly and sm oothly
on an icy bed,
the cyclam en w hite and red,
how sw eet, how fiery,
lovers could only know,
bled in som e ice of fire,
or fire of snow);

so I m igh t set
about the Parian throat,
delicate tendrils
of the scented h ost,
sligh t fronds
w ith irridescent shell-like grace,
sm ooth like the alabaster,
thin and rare.

[JULY 1927]

SOME OPINIONS [1 9 2 9 ]
- The Spring-Sum m er num ber of T ransition prints one piece taken from
the New York World th a t will prove highly illum inating to those who wish
to tran slate W alter W in ch ell. . . T ransition has at least performed a public
service in printing som e of the newer o b scurantism s th at have at least
more vitality than those invented by Jam es Joyce.
—New York Tim es

— 122 —
 H. D.

P S Y C H E

U \ 1 1 .1 1 .

“L ove drove her to Hell ”

C ^ y t h e r a ’s p e a r l w e r e d i m ,
had I not w on from him
th is ruby, cu t of fire;
my quivering lam p were dark,
b u t for its spark to light
the alabaster w h ite shell
w ith h is life and power.

The pearl were cold and dark

had I not w on the spark
of love’s in ten sest flame;
m en sp eak in g nam e no nam e
to tell the King I hold,
lord not of lands nor gold.

His k iss no p oets tell;

Persephone in hell
m igh t b est describe h is look,
and yet th e flowers sh e lost,
lilies and myrtle tossed
by A etna’s fire-scarred rim,
were n o th in g to the few
iris and sin gle blue
violets my starved h an d s took
w h en he invited me
to taste eternity.

You cou n t your lover fair,

your bride or your bride-groom ,
yet you w ould sh u n the room
where their en ch an tm en ts are;
if I could prove how I

— 123 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

m e t e c s ta s y y o u ’d c h o o se
th e v ery b e g g a r ’s ro d ,
w ith p o e ts s in g o r die.

If I c o u ld s in g t h i s god,
P e rs e p h o n e in Hell
w o u ld lift h e r q u iv e r in g lid s
a n d sm ile , th e m y s te rie s h id ,
e s c a p in g all th e y e a rs
a lik e b o t h p r ie s t a n d cy n ic
w o u ld s m ilin g ly p rev ail;
d e a d m e n w o u ld s t a r t a n d m ove
to w a rd m e to le a r n o f love.

(JULY 1927]

SOME OPINIONS [1 9 2 9 ]
— I have ju s t joined the ran k s of the "tran sitio n ” group. I think I m ust go
to Paris and climb aboard the band-wagon which the editors of the in­
surgen t periodical “tra n sitio n ” have started on its way . . . It seem s th at
Eugene Jo la s and Elliot Paul and all the other m em bers of the Jam es Joyce
Adulation and Interpretation Union, Local 69, have decided th at the re­
vered Joyce is not sufficient unto himself. Let Joyce be unconfined, is the
slogan of the new m ovement, with the resu lt th a t n ot only does the p resent
num ber of “tran sitio n ” overflow with disintegrated and newly synthesized
words from le sse r Joyces, but it also contains a proclam ation which en ­
deavours to state explicitly and with appropriate pomp the tenets of the
latest revolution in the English language . . .
—William Sloskin in the New York Eve. Post.

— 124 —
 E rn est HEMINGWAY

>IILL§LIKE WHITE
ELEPHANTS
Uy E r n e s t H e iiii n » w a y

ih lE H ILLS A C R O S S T H E VALLEY O F T H E E B R O W E R E LON G A N D W H IT E . ON

th is side there w as no sh ad e a n d no trees a n d the sta tio n was betw een
two lines of rails in th e su n . Close ag ain st th e side of th e sta tio n there
w as the w arm shadow of th e b u ild in g a n d a c u rta in m ade of strin g s of
bam boo beads h u n g across th e open door in to th e b a r to keep o u t flies.
The A m erican an d th e girl w ith him s a t a t a table in th e shade o utside the
building. It w as very h o t an d the E xpress from Barcelona would come in
forty m in u tes. It stopped at th is ju n c tio n for two m in u te s an d w ent on to
Madrid.
“W hat shou ld we d rin k ? ” th e girl asked. S he h a d tak en off h e r h a t and
p u t it on the table.
“It’s p retty h o t.” th e m a n said.
“Let’s d rin k b e e r.”
“Dos cervezas,” th e m an said in to th e c u rtain .
“Big o n e s? ” a w om an asked from th e doorway.
“Yes. Two big o n es.”
The w om an b ro u g h t two glasses of beer an d two felt pads. She p u t the
felt p ad s a n d th e beer glasses on th e table a n d looked at the m an an d the
girl. The girl w as looking off at th e line of hills. They were w hite in the
s u n a n d the co u n try w as brow n a n d dry.
“They look like w hite e le p h a n ts,” she said.
“I’ve never seen o n e,” th e m a n d ra n k h is beer.
“No you w ouldn’t hav e.”
“I m ig h t have,” th e m a n said. " J u s t because you say I w ouldn’t have
d oesn’t prove a n y th in g .”
The girl looked a t th e bead c u rta in . “They’ve p ain ted so m ething on it,”
she said. “W hat does it say ?”
“Anis del Toro. It’s a d rin k .”
“Could we try it? ”
The m an called “L isten” th ro u g h th e cu rtain . The w om an cam e out
from the bar.
“Four reales.”
“We w ant two Anis del T oro.”
“W ith w a te r? ”
“Do you w an t it w ith w a te r? ”

— 125 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

“I d o n ’t know ,” th e girl said. “Is it good w ith w a te r? ”

“It’s all rig h t.”
“You w ant them w ith w a te r? ” asked the woman.
“Yes, w ith w ater.”
“It tastes like licorice,” the girl said.
“T h a t’s th e way w ith everything.”
“Yes,” said the girl. “Everything tastes of licorice. Especially all the
th in g s you’ve w aited so long for like a b sin th e .”
“Oh cu t it o u t.”
“You sta rte d it.” the girl said. “I w as being am used. I w as having a fine
tim e.”
“Well let’s try a n d have a fine tim e.”
“All right. I w as trying. I said th e m o u n tain s looked like w hite ele­
p h a n ts. W asn’t th a t b rig h t? ”
“T h at w as b rig h t.”
“I w anted to try th is new d rink. T h a t’s all we do, isn ’t it? Look a t things
and try new d rin k s.”
“I guess so .”
The girl looked across at the hills.
“They’re lovely hills,” she said. “They d ont really look like w hite ele­
p h a n ts. I ju s t m ean t th e colouring of th eir sk in th ro u g h the tree s.”
“S hould we have an o th e r d rin k ? ”
“All rig h t.”
The w arm w ind blew th e bead c u rta in ag ain st the table.
“The beer’s nice a n d cool,” th e m an said.
“It’s lovely,” the girl said.
“It’s really an awfully sim ple o p eratio n ,” th e m an said. "It’s not really an
operation at all.”
The girl looked a t the g round the table legs rested on.
“I know you w ouldn’t m ind it, Jig. It’s really n o t anything. It’s ju s t to let
the air in .”
The girl did not say anything.
“I’ll go w ith you an d I’ll stay w ith you all th e tim e. They ju s t let the air in
and th e n it’s all perfectly n a tu ra l.”
“T hen w hat will we do afterw ard s?”
“We’ll be fine afterw ards. J u s t like we were before.”
“W hat m akes you th in k so ? ”
“T h a t’s the only th in g th a t b o th ers us. It’s the only th in g th a t’s m ade
u s u n h a p p y .”
The girl looked at the bead c u rta in , p u t h er h a n d o ut an d took hold of
two of th e strin g s of beads.
“And you th in k th e n we’ll be all rig h t an d be h appv.”
“I know we will. You d o n t have to be afraid. I’ve know n lots of people
th a t have done it.”
“So have I,” said the girl. “And afterw ards they were all so h appy.”
“Well,” the m an said, “If you d o n t w ant to you dont have to. I w ouldn’t
E rn est HEMINGWAY

[FALL 1928]

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 IN tr a n sitio n

have you do it if you d id n ’t w ant to. B ut I know it’s perfectly sim ple.”
“And you really w ant to ? ”
“I th in k it’s th e b est th in g to do. But I d ont w ant you to do it if you dont
really w ant to .”
“And if I do it you’ll be h appy a n d th in g s will be like they were and you’ll
love m e ? ”
“I love you now. You know I love you.”
“I know. B ut if I do it th e n it will be nice again if I say th in g s are like
w hite elephants an d you’ll like it? ”
“I’ll love it. I love it now b u t I ju s t c a n ’t th in k ab out it. You know how I
get w hen I w orry.”
“If I do it you w on’t ever w orry?”
“I w on’t w orry ab o u t th a t because it’s perfectly sim ple.”
“T hen I’ll do it. Because I d o n 't care about m e.”
“W hat do you m e a n .”
“I d o n ’t care ab o u t m e.”
“Well I care ab o u t you.”
“Oh yes. B ut I d o n ’t care ab o u t me. And I’ll do it and th e n everything
will be fine."
“I d o n t w ant you to do it if you feel th a t w ay.”
The girl stood u p a n d walked to the end of th e statio n . Across on the
o ther side were fields of grain an d trees along th e b an k s of the Ebro. Far
away beyond th e river were m o u n tain s. The shadow of a cloud moved
across the field of grain an d she saw th e river th ro u g h th e trees.
“And we could have all th is ,” sh e said. “And we could have everything
and every day we m ake it m ore im possible.”
"What did you say ?”
“I said we could have everything.”
“We can have everything.”
“No we c a n ’t .”
“We can have th e whole w orld.”
“No we c a n ’t .”
“We can go everywhere.”
"No we c a n ’t. It is n ’t ours anym ore.”
“It’s o u rs .”
“No it isn 't. And once they take it away you never get it b ack .”
“B ut they haven’t tak en it aw ay.”
“We’ll w ait an d see.”
“Come on back in the sh a d e ,” he said. “You m u s tn ’t feel th a t way.”
“I d o n t feel any w ay,” th e girl said. “I ju s t know th in g s.”
“I dont w ant you to do an y th in g th a t you d o n ’t w ant to do —”
“Nor th a t is n ’t good for m e,” she said. “I know. Could we have a n o th er
b eer?”
“All right. B ut you’ve got to realize —”
“I realize,” th e girl said. “C an’t we maybe stop talk in g ?”
They sa t down a t the table and th e girl looked across at the hills on the

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 E rn est HEMINGWAY

dry side of the valley an d th e m an looked a t h er a n d at th e table.

“You’ve got to realize," he said, “th a t I d o n ’t w an t you to do it if you
d o n ’t w ant to. I’m perfectly willing to go th ro u g h w ith it if it m eans any­
th in g to you."
“D oesn’t it m ean an y th in g to you? We could get along."
“Of course it does. B ut I d o n ’t w an t anybody b u t you. I d o n ’t w ant
anyone else. And I know it’s perfectly sim ple.”
“Yes you know it’s perfectly sim ple."
“It’s all rig h t for you to say th a t b u t I do know it."
“Would you do so m eth in g for m e n o w ?”
“I’d do an y th in g for you."
“W ould you p le a se p le a se p le a se p le a se p lease p lease please sto p
talking?"
He did n o t say a n y th in g b u t looked a t th e bags ag a in st the wall of the
statio n . T here were labels on th em from all th e hotels where they had
stopped.
“B ut I d o n ’t w an t you to ,” he said, “I d o n ’t care a n y th in g ab out it."
“I’ll scream ," th e girl said.
The w om an cam e o u t th ro u g h th e c u rta in s w ith two glasses of beer
a n d p u t them dow n on th e dam p felt pads. “The tra in comes in five
m in u te s,” sh e said.
“W hat did sh e sa y ? ” asked th e girl.
“T h a t the tra in is com ing in five m in u te s .”
The girl sm iled b rightly a t th e w om an to th a n k her.
“I’d b e tte r take th e bags over to the o th er side of the s ta tio n ,” the m an
said. She sm iled a t him .
“All right. T hen come back an d we’ll finish the b eer.”
He picked u p th e two heavy b ags an d carried th em a ro u n d the statio n
to the o th e r tracks. He looked u p th e track s b u t could not see the train.
Com ing back he w alked th ro u g h th e b a r room w here people w aiting for
th e tra in were d rin k in g . He d ra n k a n Anis a t th e b a r a n d looked a t the
people. T hey w ere all w a itin g rea so n a b ly for th e tra in . He w ent o u t
th ro u g h the bead c u rta in . She w as s ittin g a t th e table an d sm iled at him .
“Do you feel b e tte r? ” he asked.
“I feel fine,” sh e said. “T h ere’s n o th in g w rong w ith me. I feel fine.”

[AUGUST 1927]

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 IN tr a n sitio n

S L A N G U A G E : 1 0 3 0

iD T h e o d o r e I>. I r w i n

H lia l fh e y n ie a n
1. On the up-and-up. 1. In good faith; above-board; true.
2. To lay an egg. 2. Collapse; flounder; ruined.
3. Kiss-off. 3. Dism issal; farewell.
4. Horse-opera. 4. W estern m otion picture.
5. To click. 5. Im press favorably; up to the mark.
6. To lam. 6. R etreat hastily; escape.
7. Puddle-jumper. 7. Automobile.
8. Flesh and blood angel. 8. Damsel who clicks; beauteous
maiden of charm .
9. Wowser. 9. Blue-nose reformer.
10. To frigidaire. 10. T reat coldly; snub.
11. To take it on the heel and toe. 11. Depart.
12. Sham , Sham os. 12. Officer of the law.
13. To m ake whoopee. 13. Applied to all varieties of
unbridled revelry usually
containing joyous ingredients of
wine, women and warbling; vide
“Garbo-Gilberting.”
14. In a spot. 14. Any dangerous or perplexing
situation.
15. Ticker-and-tape worm. 15. Wall S treet broker; any one who
plays the m arket.
16. Flicker. 16. Motion picture.
17. Spanish guitar. 17. Cigar.
18. Shellacked. 18. Intoxicated condition.
19. Lallygagger. 19. Swain who lingers in the vestibule.
20. To ankle. 20. Walk, a m b le .'
21. To wham. 21. Strike forcibly; land knockout
blow; sm ash.
22. To get the magoo. 22. Specifically to receive a custard
pie in the face; generally, bad luck.
23. To tear a herring. 23. To dine.
24. Gabbies, squaw kies, 24. Talking m otion pictures.
25. To be Chicago’d. 25. D espatched via m achine gun or
autom atic; any prem editated form
of m urder.
26. Welded, sealed. 26. Married.
27. To shelve. 27. Desert; relinquish; renounce.
28. Daisy roots. 28. Feet.
29. To m ake snooty. 29. Exclusive, snobbish whoopee.
30. Tidy unit. 30. See “flesh-and-blood angel.”
31. To angel. 31. To secretly sponsor; (noun), silent
financial backer of an enterprise;
often is “sugar daddy.”

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 T h eod ore D. IRWIN

32. Shive. 32. Knife, particularly stiletto.

33. Gargo-Gilberting. 33. Indulging in am orous pursuits;
ardently enam ored couple
m inding th eir own b u siness.
34. Biggie. 34. Bigwig; personage of im portance
and influence; celebrity.
35. Clothesline. 35. Local gossip.
36. Hoofer. 36. Professional dancer.
37. To have a yen. 37. To yearn.
38. H ustler. 38. Racketeer; professional criminal;
also applied to a lady of the
evening.
39. Everything is copesetty. 39. O. K.; settled.
40. To scram . 40. See “to lam .”
41. Snappy piece of work. 41. See "tidy u n it.”
42. Tag. 42. Name.
43. To curdle. 43. See “to lay an egg.”
44. Ironsides. 44. C orseted m aiden.
45. Sugar daddy. 45. G entlem an liberal with the shekels;
patron sa in t of “m erry m agdalens.”
46. Weeping willow. 46. Pillow.
47. To tail. 47. W atch closely; follow; spy upon.
48. W ind-sucker. 48. Braggart.
49. Racket. 49. Particular kind of fraud or
robbery; any shady pursuit.
50. Night bom ber. 50. Individual, particularly aviator,
who sleeps in daytime and visits
guzzle grottos at night.
51. G., grand. 51. T housand, usually applied to
“sugar.”
52. Merry magdalen. 52. Lady of the chorus or whoopee
parlor.
53. To gag. 53. To achieve a bon mot; (noun)
witticism; affectation; anything
hum orous or fictitious; un u su al
situ atio n in a flicker.
54. Bennie. 54. Overcoat.
55. Ja ck ie Horner. 55. Corner.
56. Pan. 56. Physiognomy.
57. Egg-harbour. 57. Free dance.
58. Handcuff. 58. Engagem ent ring.
59. To flop. 59. Sit; lie down; sleep.
60. Yard. 60. Dollar.
61. A ir-bisectors. 61. High-kicking hoofers.
62. Big yes-and-no m an. 62. Executive; head of firm.
63. To be w ashed up with. 63. Sever relations.
64. Heap. 64. Any m achine; see
“puddle-jum per.”
65. To be tak en for a ride. 65. See “Chicago’d.”
66. Palooka. 6 6 . F o u r t h - r a t e p u g i lis t ; o n e o f lo w
rep u te.
67. Rock. 67. Diamond.
68. Platter. 68. Gram ophone record.
69. C hunk of lead. 69. Lass, usually with nutcracker
face, who disapproves of Garbo-
Gilberting.
70. The stem , Mazda belt. 70. Tim es Square and vicinity.
71. Scanties. 71. U n d e r w e a r , p a r t ic u la r ly
f e m in in e .

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 IN tr a n sitio n

72. Annie Oakley. 72. See "copesetty.”

73. Tilted. 73. Drastically changed; upset.
74. Moped. 74. Vanished.
75. Rats and mice. 75. Dice.
76. Sonk. 76. Collapse heavily.
77. Biscuit. 77. Flapper who pets.
78. Canned heat. 78. That which produces the
"shellacked” or “snooted;” also
known as "giggle water.”
79. Smoke eater. 79. Lady who sm okes to excess.
80. To gat-up. 80. To hold up a person or place
with gun.
81. To reef. 81. Steal; pick a pocket.
82. Twist. 82. Girl.
83. Fakealoo. 83. Fictitious story; yarn intended to
deceive.
84. Rag. 84. Newspaper; also see “chunk of
lead.”
85. False alarm. 85. Divorced woman.
86. Juicer. 86. Electrician.
87. Bell polisher. 87. See “lallygagger.”
88. Wire. 88. Pickpocket.
89. Hypos. 89. Drug addicts.
90. To bum p off. 90. See “taken for a ride.”
91. Cellar sm eller. 91. Free drinker; also a Prohibition
officer.
92. To tin-ear. 92. To listen; pay attention.
93. Dukes. 93. Hands.
94. Nifties. 94. W itticisms; see “gag.”
95. Rap. 95. Any so rt of betrayal or
indiscretion; nod, greet.
96. To bach. 96. Live in bachelor quarters.
97. Wally. 97. W ell-dressed man.
98. Stem s. 98. See “daisy-roots.”
99. Finish ace-deuce. 99. To fall; defeated; arrive last.
100. To go into the gauze. 100. Rendered unconscious via
receipt of a wham.
T h eo d o re D. Irwin in th e NEW YORK WORLD.

[JUNE 1929]

— 132 —
 E ugene JOLAS

ACROBATS
b y E u g e n e »lolsis

JU G G L E L IT A N IE S FO R LIG H T.
Your h a n d s tig h ten over w hite m agic.
You fling ou r lo n g in g s in to th e air.
P roudly y o u sw a y o n tra p ezes.

Your m u s c le s a c h e fan atic ad o ra tio n s.

On lith e fe e t y o u d a n ce a H osa n n a h .
You grow rigid in stig m a tic tortu res.
You die cru elly in pyram ids.

T here is a re su r r e c tio n y o u await.

D rum s b ea t th e daw n o f an oak fo rest.
April b lo s s o m s w ith foam in ou r h ea rts —
We are p lo u g h in g rain-ravished a cres.

[AUGUST 1927]

SOME OPINIONS [1 9 2 9 ]
— The double Spring-Sum m er num ber of transition, the m agazine which
refuses to pay any resp ect to capital letters, contains in the foreground of
its co n tents a contribution from the pen of Theo Rutra. We quote it in full,
and after you have read it, call in the doctor . . .
—Baltim ore (Md.) Sun.

— 133 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

E X P R E S S

l»v E u g e n e J o l a s

^ W h e e l s s c r e a m in f e v e r e d c r a s h o f s p e e d .
We h u n g er for eternity;
We sm u g g le g o ld en s in s in su it-c a se s;
We have s n e e r s h id d en in ou r p o ck ets;
O villages! O lan gu id sm o k e over gables!
We trem ble w ith lo n g in g for your d u sk .

H iss, lo co m o tiv e, y o u r rh yth m s o f silver . . .

We droop in n igh tm ares.
M echanical p u p p ets, w e w ait for salvation s;
B eh in d u s lie s d a r k n e ss o f furnace to w n s,
A nd lep ro u s fa ces greed y after sun;
Our p u ls e s roar lik e p is to n s .

T he roads w ind in and o u t through stran ge m ou n tain s;

N erves b eat tim e w ith dream s;
V alleys m ake u s giddy w ith rotting ro ses;
L u xu riou s fo r e sts sin g th eir green lau gh ter —
We feel d ru n k en o n lo n e ly trails and w e sin g
S o n g s a b o u t ou r m ise r ie s.
M em ories co m e w ith sh im m er o f org ies.
W om en sta n d in flam es.
N ight sp rea d s film s o f g ia n t cities;
B ut lu m in o u s la n d sc a p e s rise to our flight;
G arlands flu tter in w in d s o f longing.
We en ter th e ultim ate sta tio n flooded in light.

[AUGUST 1927]

— 134 —
 J a m es JOYCE

W O K K 11% P R O G R E S S
[F 'in »e «'sin * U a k o j

b v Jso m eK J o je o

M .H E L A S T F O U R P A G E S O F AN N A LIVIA P L U R A B E L L E , B Y J A M E S JO Y C E ,
have here been put into Basic English, the International Lan­
guage of 850 words in which everything may be said. Their
purpose is to give the simple sense o j the Gramophone Record
made by Mr. Joyce, who has himself taken part in the attempt;
and the reader will see that it has generally been possible to
keep almost the same rhythms.
In places the sense o j the story has been changed a little, but
this is because the writer took the view that it was more im­
portant to get these effects of rhythm than to give the nearest
Basic Word every time. Where names of rivers have been used
simply for their sound they are put into the Basic story with­
out any change, and underlined. Words from Latin and other
languages are given in the same way.
The normal process o f putting complex ideas by men of
letters into Basic English is through the use of foot-notes,
wherever there would be any doubt as to the sense of the
simpler account. But Mr. Joyce was of opinion that a com­
parison of the two languages would be of greater interest if the
Basic English were printed without the additions necessary to
make the sense more complete. In this way the simplest and
most com plex languages o f man are placed side by side.
- C. K. Ogden.

[MARCH 1932]

— 135 —
 ORIGINAL TEXT

ELL, YOU KNOW OR DO N ’T YOU KENNET OR HAVEN’T I TOLD YOU EVERY

sto ry h a s an en d an d th a t’s th e he and th e sh e of it. L ook, look, th e
d u sk is grow ing. F ie lu h r? Filou! W hat age is a t? It sa o n is late. ’Tis
e n d le ss now sin c e I o r an y o n e la s t saw W a te rh o u se ’s clock. They took
it a su n d e r, I h e a rd th e m say. W hen will th e y re a sse m b le it? O, my back,
my b ack , m y back! I’d w an t to go to A ch es-les-P ains. W ring o u t th e
clo th es! W ring in th e dew! G odavari vert th e show ers! A nd g ra n t of Thy
grace. A m an. Will we sp re a d th e m h ere now ? Ay, we will. S pread on
y o u r b a n k an d I’ll sp re a d m ine o n m ine. It’s w h at I’m doing. Spread! It’s
c h u rn in g chill. D er w en t is risin g . I’ll lay a few sto n e s on th e h o ste l
sh e e ts . A m an an d h is brid e em b raced betw een th em . E lse I’d have
sp rin k le d an d folded th e m only. A nd I’ll tie m y b u tc h e r’s ap ro n here.
It’s s u e ty yet. T he stro lle rs will p a s s it by. Six sh ifts, te n k e rc h iefs,
n in e to hold to th e fire an d th is for th e code, th e co n v e n t n a p k in s
twelve, o ne b ab y ’s shaw l. W here are all h e r c h ild er now ? In kingdom e
gone o r pow er to com e o r gloria be to th e m fa rth e r? Allalivial, allallu-
vial! Som e h ere, m ore no m ore, m ore again lo s t to th e stra n g e r I’ve
h eard tell th a t sam e b ro o c h of th e S h a n n o n s w as m arried in to a fam ily
in S p ain . A nd all th e D u n d e rs de D u n n e s in M a rk la n d ’s V ineland
beyond B re n d a n ’s h e rrin g pool ta k e s n u m b e r n in e in y a n g se e ’s h a ts.
And o ne of Biddy’s b e a d s w en t bobbing till sh e ro u n d ed up la s t hister-
eve w ith a m arigold an d a co b b le r’s can d le in a side stra in of a m ain
d rain of a m a n z in a h u rrie s off B ach elo r’s W alk. B ut all th a t’s left to th e
la s t of th e M eaghere in th e loop of th e y e a rs prefixed an d betw een is
one k n e e b u c k le an d two h o o k s in th e front. Do you tell m e th a t now ? I
do in tro th . A nd d id n ’t you h e a r it a deluge of tim e s? You deed, you
deed! I need , I need! It’s th a t irraw addvng I’ve s tu c k in my aa rs. It all
b u t h u s h e th th e le th e s t so u n d . O ronoko! W hat’s y o u r tro u b le ? Is th a t
th e g re a t F in n le a d e r h im se lf in h is jo a k im o n o o n h is s ta tu e riding th e
high h o rs e th e re fo re h e n g ist? F a th e r of O tters, it is him self! Y onne
there! Is it th a t? On F allareen C om m on? Y ou’re th in k in g of A stley’s
A m p h ith eay ter w here th e bobby re s tra in e d you m aking su g a rstu c k
p o u ts to th e g h o stw h ite h o rse of th e P ep p ers. Throw th e cobw ebs from
y o u r eyes, w om an, an d sp re a d y o u r w ashing p roper. It’s well 1 know
y o u r s o rt of slop. Ireland s o b e r is Ireland stiff. Y our p ray ers. W ere you
lifting y o u r elbow, tell u s, glazy c h e e k s, in Conw ay’s C arrig acu rra c a n ­
te e n ? W as I w hat, h o b b led y h ip s? A m n’t I u p sin c e th e dam p daw n w ith
C orrig an ’s p u lse an d varico se vein s, so ak in g an d bleach in g bo iler rags,
and sw eatin g cold, a widow lik e m e, for to d eck m y te n n is cham p io n
so n , th e lau n d ry m an w ith th e lav en d er fla n n e ls? You w on y o u r lim ­
popo lim p fron th e h u s k y h u s s a r s w hen C ollars an d Cuffs w as h e ir to
th e tow n an d y o u r s lu r gave th e s tin k to Carlow. Holy S cam an d er, I saw
it again! Near th e g olden falls. Icis on us! S e in ts of light! There! S ubdue
y o u r n o ise , you p o o r creatu re! W hat is it b u t a b la ck b u rry grow th or
th e dw yergray a s s th e m four old codgers ow ns. Are you m eanam Tar-
pey and L yons an d G regory? I m ean now, th a n k all, th e four of them ,

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 BASIC ENGLISH

w■ W e l l a r e y o u c o n s c io u s , o r h a v e n t y o u k n o w l e d g e , o r h a v e n t i s a id
it, th a t every story h a s an en d in g a n d th a t’s the he a n d th e she of it. Look,
look, the dark is com ing. My b ra n c h e s h ig h are tak in g root. And my cold
se a t’s gone grey. "Viel Uhr? Filou! W hat tim e is it? It’s getting late.
How far th e day w hen I or anyone last saw W aterhouse’s clock! They
took it to pieces, so they said. W hen will they p u t it togeth er ag ain ? O, my
back, my back, my back! I would go th e n to Aix-les-Pains. Ping pong!
T h a t’s the bell for S ach selau te —And C oncepta de S p iritu —Pang! Take
the w ater o u t of your cloths! O ut w ith th e old, a n d in the new! G odavari
keep off the rains! And give u s support! So be. Will we p u t them here
now ? Yes, we will. Flip! P u t o u t yours on your side th ere an d here I’ll do
the sam e. Flap! It’s w h at I’m doing. Place! It’s tu rn in g cold. The w ind gets
high. I’ll p u t som e sto n es on th e hotel linen. B ut th a t it cam e from a m ar­
ried bed it w ould be w atered a n d folded only. And I’ll p u t my m e atm an ’s
garm en t here. T h ere’s fat on it still. The road boys will all go past. Six
u n d e rg a rm e n ts, ten face cloths, n in e to p u t by th e fire, an d th is for the
cold, th e c h u rc h h o u se s is te rs ’ lin en s twelve, one baby’s overall.
M other Jo se p h m ig h t give it away, sh e said. Whose h e a d ? O ther ways?
Deo G ratias! W here now is all h e r family, say? In th e lan d of the dead or
power to come or th e ir g reat nam e for ever an d ever? All have livings! All
is well! Som e here, m ore no m ore, m ore again in a stra n g e land. They say
th a t sam e girl of th e S h a n n o n s w as m arried into a family in Spain. And
all the D und ers de D u n n es in M arkland’s W ineland, the o th er side of the
w ater, take n u m b e r n in e in A m erican h a ts. And th a t threaded ball so
loved by Biddy w ent ju m p in g till it cam e to rest by religion’s order yester­
day n ig h t w ith a w axlight a n d a flower of gold in a side b ran ch of a wide
d ra in of a m a n ’s-friend-in-need off B achelor’s Walk. B ut all there is now
for th e last of th e M eaghers in th e ro u n d of th e years before an d betw een
is one k n ee-o rn am en t a n d two hooks in the front. Do you say th a t now ?
Truly I do. May E a rth give peace to th e ir h e a rts an d m inds. U ssa, Ulla,
we’re all of u s sh ad es. Why, h av en ’t they said it a n u m b e r of tim es, over
an d over, again a n d ag ain ? They did, they did. I’ve need. I’ve need! It's
th a t soft m aterial I’ve p u t in my ears. It alm ost m akes the least so u n d
quiet. Oronoko! W hat’s your tro u b le? Is th a t great F in n the ruler him self
in h is coat-of-war on th e h ig h sto n e h orse th ere before H engist? F ath er of
W aters, it is him self! Over there! Is it th a t? On F allareen C om m on?
You’ve Astley’s th e a tre now in your head, w here you were m aking your
su g ar-stick m o u th s a t poor D eath-w hite, th e h o rse of th e Peppers, till
police p u t a top to your doings. Take th a t sp id er’s m ist off from your eyes,
w om an, an d p u t o u t your w ash in g squarely. I’ve h a d enough to do w ith
your so rt of cheap work. Flap! Ireland dry is Ireland stiff. May yours be
helped, Mary, for you’re fullest am ong wom en, b u t th e w eight is w ith me!
Alas! It seem ed so! M adame Angot! Were you lifting your glass then, say
Mrs. Redface, in Conway’s beerh o u se a t C arrig acu rra? Was I w hat, loose-
in-the-back? Flop! Your tail w alk’s G raeco-Rom an b u t your back p arts
are o u t of th e stra ig h t. H aven’t I been u p from th e wet early m orning,
M artha Mary Alacoque, w ith C orrigan’s trouble an d my blood-vessels
thick, my wheel-rod sm ash ed , Alice J a n e at h er last, an d my dog w ith one
eye two tim es overturned, w etting engine cloths an d m ak ing them w hite,
now h eated by tu rn s a n d th e n again cold, I a w om an w hose m an is no
more, th a t my sp o rtin g son m ay go w ell-dressed, th e w ash erm an w ith the

— 137 —
 ORIGINAL TEXT

and the roar of them , that draves that stray in the m ist and old Johnny
Mac Dougal along with them . Is that the Poolbeg flasher beyant or a
flreboat coasting nigh the K ishtna or a glow I behold within a hedge or
my Garry com e back from the Indes? Wait till the honeying of the lune,
love! Die eve, little eve, die! We see that wonder in your eye. We’ll m eet
again, w e’ll part once more. The sp ot I’ll seek if the hour you’ll find. My
chart sh in es high where the blue m ilk’s upset. Forgivemequick, I’m
going! And you, pluck your watch, forgetm enot. My sigh ts are swim ­
ming thicker on me by the shadow s to th is place. I’ll sow hom e slowly
now by own way, moyvalley way. Tow will I too, rathmine.
Ah, but sh e was the queer old sk eow sh a anyhow, Anna Livia, trinket-
toes. And sure he was the quare old buntz too, Dear Dirty Dumpling,
foostherfather of fingalls and dotthergills. Gammer and gaffer w e’re all
their gangsters. Hadn’t he seven dams to wive him ? And every dam had
her seven crutches. And every crutch had its seven h u es. And each hue
had a differing cry. Sudds, for me and supper for you and the doctor’s
bill for J oe John. Before! Before! He married h is m arkets, cheap by
foul, I know, like any Etrurian Catholic Heathen, in their pinky lim ony
creamy birnies and their tu rk iss indienne m auves. But at m ilkidm ass
who was the sp o u se? Then all that was was fair. In Elvenland? Teem s
of tim es and happy returns. The sam e anew. Ordovico or viricordo.
Anna was, Livia is, Plurabelle’s to be. Northm en’s thing made south-
folk’s place but howm ulty plurators made eachone in person? Latin
me that, my trinity scholard, out of eure sanscreed into oure eryan.
Hircus Civis Eblanensisl He had buckgoat paps on him, soft on es for
orphans. Ho, Lord! Twins of his bosom . Lord save us! And ho! Hey?
What all m en. Hot? His tittering daughters of. Whawk?
Can’t hear with the waters of. The chittering waters of. Flittering
bats, fleldm ice bawk talk. Ho! Are you not gone ahom e? What Tom
Malone? Can’t hear with bawk of bats, all the liffeying waters of. Ho,
talk save us! My foos w on’t m oos. I feel as old as yonder elm. A tale told
of Shaun or Shem ? All Livia’s daughtersons. Dark hawks hear us.
Night! Night! My ho head halls. I feel as heavy as yonder stone. Tell me
of J o h n or Shaun? Who were Shem and Shaun the living s o n s or
daughters of? Night now! Tell me, tell me, tell me, elm! Night night! Tell
me tale of stem or ston e. B eside the rivering waters of, hitherand-
thithering waters of. Night!(1)
(to be continued.)
(1) This piece concludes Part I. of James Joyce’s new work. The opening pages of Part III.
will appear in the next number of transition.

[NOVEMBER 1927]

— 138 —
 BASIC ENGLISH

blue-grey tro u se rs? You got your stra n g e walk from the arm y diseased
w hen the Duke of C larence h a d the ru n of th e tow n a n d ‘tw as you gave
the smell to Carlow. Am I seeing rig h t? Yes, I saw it again! Near the gold
falls! My blood is ice! Form s of light! See there!
Keep down your noise, you foolish woman! W hat is it b u t a black-beriy
grow th or th a t grey long-ears th e old four are ow ners of. Are you talking of
Tarpey an d Lyons an d Gregory? I am saying now, please all, the four of
them , an d th e cry of them , th a t sen d s th a t go-in-the-m ist an d old Jo h n n y
Mac Dougal am ong them .
Is th a t the Poolbeg light-house over there, far, far, or a steam er sailing
n e a r the Kish sa n d s or a fire I see in the underg ro w th or my G arry come
back from In d ies? Do not go till th e m oon is u p love. S h e’s dead, little
Eve, little Eve s h e ’s dead. We see th a t stra n g e look in y our eye. A m eeting
again, a n d th e n a p artin g . I’ll give th e place; let th e h o u r be yours. My
m ap is on h ig h w here th e blue m ilk’s moving. Q uick, let me go. I’m going!
So long! And you, take your w atch, th e m em ory flower. By n ig h t your
g u iding sta r. So safe to jo u rn e y ’s end! W hat I see gets feebler am ong these
shades.
I’ll go slowly now by my way, to Moyvalley. And so will I, to R athm ines.
Ah. b u t sh e w as a stra n g e little old w om an, anyhow, A nna Livia, w ith
drops from h e r toes. And D ear D irty D ublin, he, on my word, w as a
stran g e fat old fath er to h is D anes light a n d dark, th e female a n d male.
Old girl a n d old boy, th e ir serv an ts are we. H adn’t he h is seven wom en
of pleasu re? And every w om an h e r seven sticks. And every stick its seven
colours. And every colour a different cry. W ashing for me, a good meal for
you a n d the c h e m ist’s acco u n t for Jo e Jo h n . Before! Before! His m arkets
were m arried, th e cheap w ith th e bad, like E tru ria n Catholics of h ated re­
ligion in th e ir light reds, light oranges, light yellows, light greens, and
th e re st of th e seven th e ra in gives.
B ut in th e a n im a ls’ tim e, w here w as th e w om an? T hen all th a t was was
good. Land th a t is n o t? A n u m b e r of tim es, com ing happily back. The
sam e a n d new. Vico’s order b u t n a tu ra l, free. A nna w as. Livia is, Plura-
belle’s 10 be. O ur Norwegian T hing-seat w as w here Suffolk S treet is, b u t
w hat n u m b e r of places will m ake th in g s in to p e rso n s? P ut th a t into
Latin, my T rin ity m an, o u t of y our S a n sc rit into o u r Aryan. Hircus Civis
E b la n e n s is ! He w as k in d as a she-goat, to young w ith o u t m others. O,
Laws! Soft m ilk b ags two. O, Laws! O. Laws! Hey! W hat, all m en ? W hat?
His lau g h in g d a u g h te rs of. W hat?
No so u n d b u t th e w aters of. The d an cin g w aters of. W inged th in g s in
flight, field-rats louder th a n talk. Ho! Are you not gone, ho! W hat Tom
M alone? No so u n d b u t th e noise of th ese th in g s, the Liffey a n d all its
w aters of. Ho, talk safe keep us! T h ere’s no m oving th is my foot. 1 seem as
old as th a t tree over there. A story of S h a u n or S hem b u t w here? All
Livia’s d au g h te rs an d sons. D ark b ird s are hearing. Night! Night! My old
h e a d ’s bent. My w eight is like th a t sto n e you see. W hat m ay the J o h n
S h a u n story be? Or w ho were S hem a n d S h a u n th e living sons and
d au g h te rs of? N ight now! Say it, say it, tree! N ight night! The story say of
stem or stone. By th e side of th e river w aters of, th is way an d th a t way
w aters of. Night!

[MARCH 1932]

— 139 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

Several weeks of ill health have seriously handi­

capped Mr. Joyce in the exacting process of putting
Book Three of his new work in its expanded and
perfected form. Since he is so painstaking in his
writing he has preferred to wait one more month
before submitting the text for publication. The
editors have gladly accorded him another month of
rest and feel confident that the readers of transition,
understanding the situation, will ungrudgingly
postpone a little longer their enjoyment of the
ensuing portions of this marvelous literary achie­
vement.

(JANUARY 1928]

— 140 —
 c. G. JUNG

PSYCHOLOGY W O
POETRY
[E xtra ct)

|»y tT,CT. J u i i ^

I t IS IN C O N T E ST A B L Y C E R T A IN T H A T PSY C H O L O G Y — A S T H E S C IE N C E
o f p sy c h ic p r o c e s s e s — m ay be b rou gh t in to relation w ith th e
sc ie n c e o f literatu re. T he so u l is th e m oth er and th e recep ta cle
o f all th e s c ie n c e s as w ell as o f every w ork o f art. T he s c ie n c e o f
th e so u l sh o u ld th u s be ab le to d em o n stra te and exp lain th e
p sy ch o lo g ic a l stru ctu re o f th e work o f art o n th e o n e h an d and
th e p sy c h o lo g ic a l p o stu la te s o f th e a rtistic-creative m an o n th e
o th er. T h e se tw o ta sk s are o f a rad ically d ifferen t nature: in th e
first c a se it is a q u e stio n o f an *’in te n tio n a lly ” form ed p rod uct
o f co m p lica te d p sy c h ic a c tiv itie s, in th e se c o n d c a se , h ow ever,
it c o n c e r n s th e p sy c h ic apparatus itse lf. In th e first ca se also,
th e o b ject o f p sy c h o lo g ic a l a n a ly sis and in terp retation is th e
firm ly c ir c u m sc r ib e d , c o n c r e te w ork o f art, w h er ea s in th e
se c o n d , it is th e liv in g -crea tiv e m an in th e m o st in d ivid u al form
o f h is u n iq u e p erso n a lity . A lth o u g h b o th o b jects are in th e m o st
in tim a te rela tio n and are c o n n e c te d in in d isso lu b le reciprocal
a ctio n , it is im p o ssib le for o n e to exp lain th e oth er. To be su re,
w e m ay draw c o n c lu s io n s from o n e to th e oth er, b u t th e se c o n ­
c lu s io n s are n ev er c o n v in c in g . E ven a t b est, th e y are and re­
m a in p r o b a b ilitie s, or fe lic it o u s appergus. G o e th e ’s s p e c ia l
re la tio n to h is m o th e r g iv e s u s in d e e d a g lim p se , w h en w e
e x a m in e F a u s t ’s e x c la m a t io n : “ T h e m o t h e r s , m o t h e r s , it
so u n d s so str a n g e .” B ut w e do n o t su c c e e d in d isco v erin g ju s t
h o w a F a u s t c a n e m e r g e th r o u g h th e c o n n e c t io n w ith th e
m o th e r , a lth o u g h d o w n d e e p w e s u r m is e th a t in th e m an
G oeth e th is re la tio n sh ip so m e h o w existed . Nor can we, reverse­
ly, in a n y w ay r e c o g n iz e , or d e d u c e c o n c lu s iv e ly from th e
N ib elu n g en rin g th e fa ct th at W agner w as in c lin ed tow ards fe m i­
n in e “ tr a n sv e stitism ” , alb eit h ere, to o , sec ret p ath s lead from
th e h ero ic e le m e n t o f th e N ib elu n g en to th e m orbidly fem in in e
in th e m an W agner.
T he p rese n t sta te o f p sy ch o lo g ic a l s c ie n c e w h ich —b e it said

— 141 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

in p a ssin g —is th e y o u n g e st o f all sc ie n c e s, in n o w ay p erm its u s

to esta b lish strict ca u sa l a sso c ia tio n s in th is region w h ich , as a
s c ie n c e , it o u g h t to do. P sy ch o lo g y gives u s p o sitiv e ca u sa lities
o n ly in th e region o f th e sem i-p sy c h o lo g ica l in stin c ts and re­
flex es. B ut w h ere th e real life o f th e so u l b eg in s, i.e . in th e co m ­
p lex, w e m u st be sa tisfied w ith pain tin g vast ca n v a ses o f ev e n ts,
and co lo rfu l p ictu res o f th e strange and su p er-h u m an ly in g e ­
n io u s tis s u e s , and w e c a n n o t d esign ate ev en a sin g le p ro ce ss as
“ n e c e ssa r y ” . If th is w ere n o t th e ca se , and if p sy ch o lo g y cou ld
sh o w p o s itiv e c a u s a litie s in th e w ork o f art an d in a rtistic
crea tio n , th e w h o le s c ie n c e o f art w ou ld be deprived o f its own
g ro u n d an d b e c o m e m erely a s p e c ia l b ra n ch o f p sy c h o lo g y .
A lth ou gh p sy ch o lo g y sh o u ld n ever give up its claim to explore
and esta b lish th e ca u sa lity o f com p licated p r o c e sse s, w ith o u t
r e n o u n c in g its e lf, it ca n n ev er a tta in th e fu lfillm e n t o f th is
claim , b e c a u se th e irrational-creative, w h ich sta n d s o u t m o st
d is tin c tly in art, w o u ld u ltim a te ly m o c k at all r a tio n a liz in g
effo rts. A ll ordinary ex p ressio n m ay be exp lain ed cau sally, b ut
creative ex p ressio n , w h ich is th e ab so lu te contrary o f ordinary
ex p ressio n , w ill be forever h id d en from h u m an k now ledge. We
m ay c o n tin u e to d escrib e it, and se n s e it, b u t in ap pearance
o n ly, and w e w ill n ever u n d erstan d it. T he sc ie n c e o f art and
p sy ch o lo g y w ill be d ep en d en t o n e u p on th e oth er, and th e prin ­
cip le o f th e o n e w ill n o t n egate th at o f th e oth er. T he p rinciple
o f p sy ch o lo g y d em an d s th e ap pearance o f th e given p sy ch ic e le ­
m en t a s b ein g d ed u cib le, th e p rin cip le o f th e s c ie n c e o f art
d em an d s th e co n sid era tio n o f th e p sy ch ic as so m e th in g really
ex iste n t, w h eth er it be a q u e stio n o f th e work o f art or o f th e
a r t is t h im s e lf . B o th p r in c ip le s a re v a lid in s p it e o f t h e ir
relativity.
Translated fro m the German by EUGENE JOLAS.

[JUNE 1930]

— 142 —
 F ran z KAFKA

THE SGMTENCE
Uy F r s in z K a fk s i

I t W AS BEFORE NOON ON a SUNDAY IN a M OST LOVELY SPR IN G. GEORGE

B en d em an n , a y o u n g b u s in e s s m a n , w as sittin g in h is private room on
th e first floor of o n e of th o s e low, lig h tly b u ilt h o u s e s , s tru n g along a
river in a row, an d d ifferen t from o n e a n o th e r in h e ig h t an d co lo r only.
He h a d j u s t fin ish e d a le tte r to a frien d of h is y o u th w ho w as now
ab ro ad , h ad se a le d it w ith playful s lo w n e ss an d th e n gazed from th e
w indow , h is elbow on h is d e sk , - o u t over th e river, th e bridge an d th e
su m m its on th e o th e r b a n k w ith th e ir frail green .
He th o u g h t of how h is frie n d , d is c o n te n te d w ith h is p ro g re s s a t
h om e, h ad ta k e n refuge in R u ss ia y e a rs ago. Now h e c a rrie d on a b u s i­
n e s s in St. P e te rsb u rg , w hich h a d b eg u n u n d e r e x c e lle n t a u sp ic e s, b u t
for so m e tim e h a d b een facing d ifficu lties, acco rd in g to th e co m p lain ts
h e m ade d u rin g h is v isits w h ich b ecam e ra re r an d ra re r. T h u s u s e ­
le ssly h e w o rk ed h im s e lf to d e a th ab ro ad . His stra n g e full b ea rd hid
b u t sc a n tily h is face w ell-know n from ch ild h o o d days, a n d h is yellow
com plexion se e m e d to p o in t to a p ro g ressiv e illn e ss. A ccording to h is
sto ry he h a d n o real c o n n e c tio n w ith th e colo n y of h is c o u n try m en
th e re , a n d h a rd ly an y so c ia l c o n ta c t w ith native fam ilies. T herefore he
h ad a d ju ste d h is life d efin itely to a b a tc h e lo r’s e x iste n c e.
W hat c o u ld o n e w rite to s u c h a m an , w ho h ad obviously gone to seed,
for w hom o n e c o u ld feel so rry b u t w hom co u ld n o t h e lp ? S h o u ld one
p e rh a p s advise h im to co m e h o m e, to begin h is life h e re over again, to
re su m e all th e old friendly re la tio n s , —sim p ly to have co n fid en ce in th e
aid of h is frie n d s? B u t th a t m e a n t n o th in g m ore th a n tellin g h im a t th e
sam e tim e, —th e m o re h u rtin g ly th e m o re d elicately it w as said, —th a t
h is a tte m p ts h e re to fo re h a d failed, th a t h e s h o u ld re lin q u ish th em ,
th a t h e s h o u ld r e tu rn a n d le t h im se lf be s ta re d a t as o n e w ho h ad com e
b ack to stay, th a t h e w as an old ch ild a n d w ould sim p ly have to follow
th e su c c e s s fu l frie n d s w ho h a d re m a in e d a t hom e. A nd w as it c erta in
th a t all th e tro u b le to w hich o n e w ould have to p u t h im w ould b ea r
fru it? P e rh a p s n o b o d y w ould even su c c e e d in g ettin g him to com e —he
h im se lf h a d sa id th a t h e c o u ld n o lo n g e r u n d e rs ta n d c o n d itio n s a t
h o m e —an d so h e w ould in sp ite of every th in g rem ain in h is alien sta te ,
e m b ittere d by th e c o u n s e ls given him , an d se p a ra te d from h is friends
still m ore. B u t if h e really sh o u ld follow th e advice an d be c ru sh e d

— 143 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

h ere, if h e sh o u ld n o t be able to a d ju s t h im self, w ith h is frien d s n o r

w ith o u t them ; w ould it n o t be b e tte r for him if he stay ed abroad, th e
way h e w as? For co u ld o n e u n d e r s u c h c irc u m sta n c e s a ssu m e th a t
actu ally he w ould g et along?
For th e s e re a s o n s o ne co u ld n o t, if one w ere really willing to keep up
any c o rre sp o n d a n c e, le t him know of d e ta ils s u c h as o ne w ould ex­
plain to th e m o s t d is ta n t a c q u a in ta n ce . T he friend h a d b een a b se n t
from ho m e th re e y e a rs, an d ex plained th is very u n sa tisfa c to rily by th e
u n c e rta in ty of th e p o litic a l c o n d itio n s in R u ssia , w h ich w ould n o t
a d m it even th e b rie fe s t a b s e n c e of a sm a ll b u s in e s s m a n , w hile a
h u n d re d th o u s a n d R u ssia n s w ere riding q u ietly a ro u n d th e w orld.
B u t in th e c o u rs e of th e s e th r e e y e a rs a g re a t m an y th in g s h ad
chan g ed for G eorge. To be s u re , h is friend h a d h e a rd of th e d e a th of
G eorge’s m o th er, w hich h ad o c c u re d a b o u t two y ea rs ago, an d sin ce
w hich G eorge h a d lived w ith h is old father; th e friend had ex p ressed
h is c o n d o le n c e s in a le tte r of s u c h c o ld n e ss th a t it seem ed to be ex­
p lain ed only by th e fact th a t s u c h an o c c u re n c e in th e o u tsid e w orld
w as sim ply in conceivable. G eorge h a d p lu n g ed in to h is b u s in e s s sin ce
th e n w ith m u ch m ore energy. P e rh a p s h is fa th er h ad p revented real
activity on h is p a rt w hile h is m o th e r w as alive, by in sistin g solely up o n
a s s e r tin g h is view s. P e rh a p s h is fa th e r h a d b ec o m e m ore r e tic e n t
sin c e h is m o th e r’s d e a th , a lth o u g h h e w as still active in th e b u sin e ss;
p e rh a p s —an d th is seem ed m ore p robable —a few felicito u s a ccid e n ts
had played a m u ch m ore im p o rta n t role; a t an y rate, b u s in e s s h ad been
flo u rish in g th e s e two p a s t y ears m o st u n ex p ectedly. They h ad h ad to
doub le th e p e rso n n e l; th e e a rn in g s w ere five tim es m ore th a n form erly
an d fu rth e r p ro g re ss seem ed likely.
B ut h is frien d h ad n o idea of th is ch ange. In th e old days, th e la st
tim e p e rh a p s in th a t le tte r of co n d o len ce, he h ad w anted to p ersu a d e
G eorge to em ig rate to R u ssia an d h a d ex p atiated on th e p ro sp e c ts th a t
ex isted for G eorge’s b u s in e s s in St. P e te rsb u rg . His frien d ’s earn in g s
w ere sm all co m p ared w ith th e e x p an sio n of G eorge’s b u s in e s s now.
B ut G eorge w as n o t in c lin e d to w rite h is friend ab o u t h is com m ercial
s u c c e s s e s , an d now, a fte r all th a t h ad gone before, it w ould really have
lo ok ed stra n g e .
T h u s G eorge lim ited h im se lf to w riting h is friend ab o u t u n im p o rta n t
h a p p e n in g s , a s th e y a c c u m u la te in th e m em ory, w hile o n e m u s e s
a b o u t th e m on a q u ie t S unday. He h a d no o th e r de sire th a n to leave u n ­
d istu rb e d th e im p re ssio n of h is hom etow n w hich h is friend h ad d e­
veloped in th is long interval, an d w hich h e su re ly found to h is liking.
T h en it h ap p e n e d th a t in th re e le tte rs, follow ing o ne a n o th e r a t long
in terv als, George h ad n o tified h is friend of th e eng ag em en t of som e
m an to a g irl, eq u a lly u n k n o w n , u n til th e frien d , e n tire ly a g a in s t
G eorge’s in te n tio n s , h a d b eg u n to g et in te re s te d in th is curio sity .
B ut George p referred w riting him a b o u t s u c h th in g s, ra th e r th a n
ad m ittin g th a t h e h im se lf h a d becom e engaged a m o n th ago to M iss

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Frieda B randenfeld, a girl from a w ell-to-do family. O ften he d isc u sse d

th is friend w ith h e r a s well a s th e sp ecial re la tio n sh ip th e y m ain ta in ed
by c o rre sp o n d e n c e . “I s u p p o se h e w o n t com e to o u r w edding th e n ,”
sh e h ad said , “an d still I have a rig h t to know all y o u r frie n d s.”
“I d o n t w an t to d istu rb h im ,” G eorge h a d replied, “d o n t m isu n d e r­
s ta n d m e, h e pro b ab ly w ould com e, a t le a s t I th in k so , b u t he w ould feel
forced to it an d w ould be h u rt, p e rh a p s he w ould even envy m e, and
th e n go b ack alo n e, c e rta in ly d is s a tisfie d an d in cap ab le of g etting rid
of th is d issa tis fa c tio n . A lone —do y o u know w h at th a t m e a n s ? ” —
“Yes, b u t m ay h e n o t h e a r of o u r w edding in so m e o th e r w ay?”
“T h at, of c o u rs e , I c a n ’t p rev en t, b u t it is im probable, c o n sid e rin g h is
m ode of living.”
“If you have s u c h frien d s, G eorge, you s h o u ld n ever have becom e e n ­
gaged.” “Well, w e’re b o th re sp o n s ib le for th at; b u t I w ould n o t have it
o th erw ise even now .”
A nd s in c e s h e , th e n , b r e a th in g h e a v ily u n d e r h is k i s s e s , h a d
objected: “It really h u r ts m e,” h e th o u g h t it u n avoidable to w rite h is
friend everything.
“T h a t’s th e way I am , an d h e will have to ta k e m e th a t way,” h e said to
him self, “I c a n ’t carve a h u m a n bein g o u t of m y self th a t p e rh a p s w ould
be m ore su ita b le for frie n d sh ip th a n I am .”
A nd, in fact, h e h a d a n n o u n c e d h is e n g ag em en t in th e long le tte r to
h is frie n d h e w as w ritin g th is S u n d a y a fte rn o o n , in th e follow ing
w ords: “T he b e s t new s I have saved for th e la st. I have becom e engaged
to M iss F ried a B ran d en feld , a girl from a w ell-to-do fam ily th a t se ttle d
h e re long a fte r y o u r d e p a rtu re , a n d th a t y o u p robably will n o t know , for
th a t re a so n . I h o p e to have an o p p o rtu n ity to tell you m ore a b o u t my
fiancee; I will only say to d ay th a t I am very hap p y a n d th a t th e only
c h an g e in o u r re la tio n s is th a t you will have in ste a d of a very ord in ary
friend, a really h ap p y o ne. A nd th e n you will have in m y fiancee, who
w ish e s m e to se n d h e r re g a rd s an d w ho will h e rs e lf w rite you so o n , a
sin c e re friend, w hich is n o t w ith o u t im p o rta n c e for a b ach elo r. I know
m any th in g s p re v e n t y o u from v isitin g u s. B u t d o n t y ou th in k th a t o u r
w edding m ig h t offer th e rig h t o p p o rtu n ity to th ro w all th e im p ed im en ts
over b o ard ? B u t h ow ever th a t m ay be, p le a se a c t w ith o u t tak in g u s into
c o n sid e ra tio n , j u s t a s you see fit.”
W ith th is le tte r in h is h a n d , G eorge s a t a t h is d e sk a long tim e, h is
face tu r n e d to th e w in d o w . S m ilin g a b s e n t-m in d e d ly , h e h a rd ly
an sw ered an a c q u a in ta n c e w ho p a s s e d by an d g reeted him from th e
stre e t.
At la s t h e p u t th e le tte r in h is p o c k e t an d c ro ssin g th e room w ent
th ro u g h a little hallw ay in to h is fa th e r’s room in w hich h e h ad n o t been
for m o n th s. T h ere w as n ev er any real n e c e s sity for h is going th ere , for
h e saw h is fa th e r d u rin g b u s in e s s h o u rs every day. T hey ate lu n c h to ­
g e th e r in a b o ard in g h o u s e , a lth o u g h th e y h ad d in n e r sep arately . T hen
b o th s a t for a little w hile, in th e co m m o n living-room , each w ith his

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new sp ap er, u n le s s G eorge, w hich h ap p en ed m o st frequently, w ent to

see a friend or, a s now , visited h is fiancee.
George w as a s to n is h e d to see how d ark h is fa th e r’s room w as th is
su n n y foren o o n . S tran g e, th a t th e high wall risin g beyond th e sm all
c o u rty ard sh o u ld th ro w s u c h a shadow . His fa th e r w as sittin g a t th e
w indow in a c o rn e r w hich w as d eco rated w ith diverse so u v e n irs of h is
m o th er, an d h e w as read in g th e n ew sp ap er w hich h e h eld sidew ise in
fro n t of h is eyes, w ith w hich o p e ra tio n h e a tte m p te d to co m p e n sa te h is
feeble ey esig h t. On th e table th e re w ere th e re m ain s of b rea k fast, of
w hich he evidently h ad n o t e a te n m uch.
“Ah, G eorge,” said h is fa th e r w alking to w ard s him a t th e sam e tim e.
His heavy b ath -ro b e o p en ed w hile h e w as w alking, th e e n d s flu ttered
ab o u t him . “My fa th e r is still a g ia n t,” th o u g h t G eorge to him self.
“It’s really u n b earab ly d ark h e re ,” he said aloud.
“Yes, it’s really d a rk ,” h is fa th e r replied.
“Did you c lo se th e w indow ?”
“I’d ra th e r have it lik e th is .”
“It’s q u ite w arm o u tsid e ,” said G eorge, a s if adding an epilogue. He
s a t dow n.
His fa th e r to o k th e b re a k fa st d is h e s aw ay a n d placed th em on a box.
“I sim ply w anted to tell y o u ,” G eorge c o n tin u e d , w hile observing
a b s e n t-m in d e d ly th e m o tio n s o f th e old m a n , “ th a t I fin ally did
a n n o u n c e m y e n g ag em en t to St. P e te rsb u rg .” He took th e le tte r from
h is p o ck et, an d le t it w an d er b ack again.
“To St. P e te rsb u rg ,” a sk e d th e father.
“Why, to m y frien d ,” G eorge said , looking for h is fa th e r’s eyes. —“In
b u s in e s s h e ’s en tirely differen t,” h e th o u g h t to him self, “The way he
s its h ere, h is arm s c ro sse d over h is broad c h e s t.”
“Yes, to y o u r frien d ,” h is fa th e r said em phatically.
“You know , fath er, I first in te n d e d n o t to tell him an y th in g a b o u t my
engag em en t. F or re a s o n s of c o n sid e ra tio n sim ply. He is a difficult m an.
I said to m yself, he m ay find o u t a b o u t my eng ag em en t from o th e r
s o u rc e s , a lth o u g h th a t is h a rd ly p ro b a b le , c o n s id e rin g h is so lita ry
m ode of living —I c a n n o t p rev en t it, anyw ay —b u t he sh o u ld n o t find it
o u t th ro u g h m e.”
“A nd now you have ch an g ed y o u r m ind a g a in ? ” h is fa th e r ask e d ,
p u ttin g th e large n e w sp ap er on th e window sill and up o n th e p a p er h is
g la sse s w hich he covered w ith h is h an d .
“Yes, I th o u g h t it over again. If h e is a good friend, I said to m yself, my
happy e n g ag em en t will be h a p p in e s s for him . A nd th erefo re I no longer
h e sita te d to s e n d him th e a n n o u n c e m e n t. B u t before m ailing th e le t­
ter, I w anted to tell you a b o u t it.”
“G eorge,” h is fa th e r said, p ulling h is to o th le s s m o u th ap art, “now
listen! You have com e to m e w ith th is affair to ta lk it over. T h at is
d o u b tle ss to y o u r cred it. B ut it is n o th in g , le s s th a n no th in g , if you
now do n o t tell m e th e w hole tru th . I do n o t w ant to s tir up th in g s th a t

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do n o t belong h ere. S in ce th e d e a th of o u r d e a r m o th e r ce rta in d is­

agreeable th in g s have h ap p e n e d . M any th in g s e sc a p e m e in b u sin e ss,
p e rh a p s no a tte m p t is m ade to h id e it from m e - I do n o t w ant to
a s s u m e now th a t it is bein g h id d e n from m e —I am no lo n g er stro n g
e n o u g h , m y m em o ry fa ils m e. I n o lo n g e r have c o n tro l over m any
th in g s. T h a t is first of all th e ru n n in g dow n of n a tu re , a n d seco n d ly th e
d e a th of y o u r m o th e r h a s affected m e m u c h m ore th a n you. - B ut sin c e
we h a p p en to be d is c u s s in g th is le tte r, I m u s t beg you, George, n o t to
deceive m e. It is a sm all m a tte r, n o t w o rth a b re a th , so d o n t deceive me.
Have you really a frien d in St. P e te rs b u rg ? ”
G eorge g ot up, e m b a rra sse d . “L e t’s leave m y frien d s alone. A th o u ­
sa n d frien d s c a n n o t rep lace m y fath er. You know w h at I th in k ? You do
n o t ta k e en o u g h care of y o u rself. B u t old age d e m a n d s its rig h ts. You
are in d isp e n sa b le for m e in b u s in e s s , you know th a t well enough; b u t
if b u s in e s s s h o u ld th r e a te n y o u r h e a lth , I s h o u ld p re fe r clo sin g it
tom orrow . T h is c a n ’t go on. We s h a ll have to in tro d u c e a new m ode of
living for you. B u t so m e th in g fu n d a m e n ta l. You s it h e re in th e d a rk ­
n e s s , w hile y o u c o u ld have a n ice lig h t in th e living-room . At b re a k fa st
you sim ply n ib b le a bit, in ste a d o f n o u ris h in g y o u rse lf th o ro u g h ly . You
s it h e re, w ith th e w indow s clo sed , a n d th e a ir w ould be so good for you.
No, Father! I will g et th e d o cto r, an d we will follow h is advice. We sh all
exchange ro o m s —you m u s t ta k e th e fro n t room , a n d I will stay h ere. It
will n o t be a c h an g e for you, every th in g will be m oved over th ere . B ut
w e’ll do th a t in d u e tim e, you m ig h t lie dow n now a bit, you n eed a b so ­
lu te re st. I’ll h e lp y o u u n d re s s , y o u ’ll se e I can do it. Or p e rh a p s you
w ould p refer m oving to th e fro n t ro o m a t on ce. T h en for th e tim e being
you m ig h t lie dow n in m y bed. T h a t’s a good id ea.”
G eorge w as sta n d in g b e sid e h is fath er, w ho le t h is h ead w ith th e
scraggly w hite h a ir sin k to h is c h e st.
“G eorge,” h is fa th e r sa id softly, w ith o u t em o tio n .
G eorge k n e lt dow n a t o n ce b e sid e h is fath er; h e saw th e p u p ils in th e
tire d face of h is fath er, over-large in th e c o rn e rs of h is eyes, sta rin g a t
him .
“You have n o frien d in S t. P e te rsb u rg . You have alw ays b een a p rac ti­
cal jo k e r, even w ith m e. W hy sh o u ld y o u have a friend th e re , of all
p la c e s? I c a n n o t believe it.”
“T h in k for a m in u te , fa th e r,” sa id G eorge, lifting h is fa th e r from th e
a rm -c h air an d ta k in g off h is b a th ro b e . T he old m an seem ed very w eak.
“It’s a lm o st th re e y e a rs ago th a t m y frien d w as h e re for a visit. I can
still re m e m b e r th a t y o u did n o t care m u c h for h im . At le a s t on two
o c c a sio n s I d en ied him before you, a lth o u g h he w as sittin g w ith m e in
m y room , for I co u ld easily u n d e rs ta n d y o u r a v ersio n to him . My friend
h a s c e rta in p e c u lia ritie s. B u t th e n a t o th e r tim es you got along w ith
him very well. I w as so p ro u d th a t tim e th a t you w ere listen in g to him;
you no d d ed an d a s k e d q u e s tio n s . If you th in k a b o u t it, you will su rely
rem em b er it. He to ld in c re d ib le s to rie s a b o u t th e R u ssia n R evolution,

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for in sta n c e , how h e d u rin g a b u s in e s s trip in Kiev h e saw a rio t and a

p rie s t o n a b alcony who c u t in to th e palm of h is h a n d a wide crucifix of
blood, raisin g h is h a n d in an appeal to th e crow d. I re m em b er you y o u r­
se lf rep eatin g th is sto ry from tim e to tim e.”
In th e m ean tim e G eorge h ad su c c e e d e d in g etting h is fath e r to sit
dow n again and h e began to ta k e off h is draw ers and h is so c k s. At th e
sig h t of th e n o t p artic u la rly clean un d erw ear, h e blam ed h im self for
having n eg lected h is fath er. It certain ly s h o u ld have b een h is d uty to
w atch over h is fa th e r’s lau n d ry . He h ad n o t y e t talk ed w ith h is fiancee
a b o u t h is fa th e r’s fu tu re, b u t sile n tly th e y h ad p re su p p o se d th a t h is
fath er w ould rem ain in th e old h om e. B u t now he decided briefly and
decisively to ta k e h is fa th e r along w ith him in to h is fu tu re h o u se h o ld .
It m ig h t be th a t s u c h care w ould com e too late.
He carried h is fa th e r in h is arm s to th e bed. A fearful feeling w as in
him , a s h e began to n o tice how d u rin g th e few ste p s to th e bed h is
fa th e r w as playing w ith th e w atch -ch ain on h is c h e st. He could n o t at
once p u t him to bed, he clu n g so firm ly to th e w atch-chain.
B ut h ard ly w as he in bed, w hen everything seem ed all right. He drew
up th e covers him self. He did n o t look up a t George w ith u n friendly
eyes.
“Of c o u rse you rem em b er him , fath er d o n ’t y o u ? ” a sk e d George,
nodding enco u rag in g ly to w ard s him .
“Am I covered up n o w ?” a sk e d h is fath er, as if h e did n o t know
w h e th e r o r n o t h is feet w ere sufficiently covered.
“So y o u ’re b eg in n in g to like it in bed a lre a d y ?” said George, p u ttin g
th e cover c lo se r a ro u n d him .
“Am I well covered u p ? ,” a sk e d h is fath er on ce m ore, seem in g m o st
attentively to aw ait a reply.
“J u s t be q u iet, y o u ’re well covered.”
“No!” h is fa th e r cried, h u rlin g th e an sw e r a g a in st th e q u e stio n . He
threw th e cover off so h ard th a t it unfolded an d sto o d for a m o m en t
e re c t in bed. Only o ne h a n d h e h eld lightly a g a in st th e ceiling. “You
w anted to cover m e up, I know , m y chap p ie, b u t I’m n o t y et covered up.
And even if it is my la s t s tre n g th , it’s en o u g h for you, too m uch for you.
Of c o u rse , I know y o u r friend. He w ould be a so n a ccording to my h eart.
For th a t re a so n you deceived him all th e s e years. Why o th erw ise?
D on’t you th in k I w ept a b o u t h im ? T h a t’s w hy you lock y o u rself in y o u r
office, nobody m u s t d istu rb you, th e b o ss is b u sy —only th a t you may
w rite y o u r false le tte rs to R u ssia. B ut fo rtu n a tely nobody w arned th e
fa th e r to find o u t ab o u t h is so n . T he way you th o u g h t j u s t now you had
co n q u ered m e, so th a t you could flop dow n on m e w ith o u t my stirrin g .
And th e n m y H onorable S on d ecid es to g et m arried!”
George lo o k ed up a t th e terrifying p ictu re of h is father. The friend in
St. P e te rsb u rg , w hom h is fa th e r k new su d d e n ly so well, captivated h is
im agination, a s never before. He saw him lo s t in im m en se R u ssia. He
saw him a t th e d o o r of th e em pty b u s in e s s w hich had been looted. He

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saw h im sta n d in g am id th e d e b ris of th e sh elv es, th e s h re d s of th e m er­

c h a n d ise , th e falling g as-flx tu res. W hy h a d h e gone so far away?
“B ut look a t m e!” h is fa th e r called, a n d G eorge ran , a lm o st w ith o u t
th in k in g , to th e bed. b u t sto p p e d o n th e way.
“B ecau se s h e ra ise d h e r s k ir ts ,” h is fa th e r began to say in a flu te­
like voice. “B ecau se s h e ra ise d h e r s k irts , th e tro llo p .” and in o rd e r to
p ic tu re it, h e ra ise d h is s h ir t so h ig h th a t th e s c a r from h is w ar days
c o u ld be se e n o n h is u p p e r th ig h . “B e c a u se sh e ra ise d h e r s k irts like
th is , like th is , lik e th is , th e re fo re you w en t to h er, an d in o rd e r to
sa tisfy y o u rs e lf w ith h e r w ith o u t bein g d istu rb e d , you have d ish o n o re d
y o u r m o th e r’s m em o ry b etra y e d y o u r friend, an d p u t y o u r fa th e r in
bed, so th a t he c a n n o t m ove. B u t he still can move, o r c a n ’t h e ? ”
And h e sto o d c le a r a n d th re w h is legs in to th e air. He w as lu m in o u s
w ith c u n n in g .
G eorge w as sta n d in g in a c o rn e r a s far a s p o ssib le away from his
fath er. Som e tim e ago h e h a d d ecid ed to o bserve everything very a c c u ­
rately, so th a t h e m ig h t n o t be s u rp ris e d in a ro u n d a b o u t way, from
b e h in d o r from above. Now h e re m e m b e red again h is long forgotten d e­
cisio n a n d forgot it, a s o n e d raw s a little th re a d th ro u g h th e eye of a
needle.
“B ut y o u r frien d is n e v e rth e le s s n o t b e tra y e d ,” h is fa th e r cried, and
h is index finger b o b b in g to an d fro affirm ed it. “I have b een h is re p re ­
se n ta tiv e h e re .”
“Y ou’re jo k in g ,” G eorge w as u n a b le to refrain from saying th is b u t
reco g n ized h is m ista k e , a n d b it h is to n g u e , a lth o u g h too late —h is eyes
rigid —so th a t h e b e n t w ith pain.
“Yes, of c o u rs e , I am jo k in g ! A jo k e! E x cellen t word! W hat o th e r c o n ­
s o la tio n did a n old w idow ed fa th e r hav e? L ook —an d for th e m o m en t of
th e reply be still m y living so n . W hat w as th e re left for m e, in my back
room , p e rse c u te d by u n fa ith fu l em p lo y ees, old to th e very b o n e s? A nd
my s o n ra ce d ju b ila n tly th ro u g h th e w orld, c o n c lu d e d b u s in e s s affairs
w hich I h a d p rep ared , s to o d o n h is h e a d w ith joy, a n d avoided h is
fa th e r w ith th e en ig m atic face of a m an of h o n o r. D on’t you th in k I
loved y o u ? I, from w hom you c a m e ? ”
“Now h e is going to b e n d forw ard,” th o u g h t George “if h e sh o u ld fall
an d c ru s h h is h e a d .” T h ese w ords h is s e d th ro u g h h is brain.
His fa th e r b e n t forw ard, b u t did n o t fall. S ince G eorge, c o n tra ry to h is
e x p e c ta tio n s, did n o t com e n e a re r, h e ro se again.
“S tay w here you are, I d o n ’t n e e d you! You th in k you still have th e
s tre n g th to com e h e re a n d you h o ld b ack , m erely b e c a u se you are so
m inded. B u t y o u are m is ta k e n . I am still m u c h th e stro n g e r. A lone p e r­
h a p s I m ig h t have h a d to draw b ack , b u t y o u r m o th e r h a s now given me
h e r stre n g th ; I kn o w all a b o u t y o u r friend; th e lis t o f y o u r c u sto m e rs is
in my p o c k e t.”
“T h ere are p o c k e ts even in h is s h ir t” said G eorge, th in k in g th is
w ould b rin g h is fa th e r to h is s e n s e s . He th o u g h t th is o n ly for a

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m om en t, for alw ays he forgot everything.

“J u s t stic k to y o u r fiancee an d be co n d e sc e n d in g to m e. I will sw eep
h e r away from you, you will never know how .”
G eorge m ade a grim ace, as if he did n o t believe it. His fa th er m erely
nod d ed tow ard s G eorge’s co rn e r, affirm ing th e tru th of h is sta te m e n t.
“You really a m u se d m e w hen you a sk e d m e if you sh o u ld w rite y o u r
friend a b o u t y o u r e n g ag em en t. Why, he k n o w s everything, you fool, he
k no w s everything, I w rote him , b e c a u se you forgot to ta k e my w riting
m aterial away from m e. T h a t’s w hy he h a s n o t b een b ack for y ears, he
k no w s every th in g a h u n d re d tim es b e tte r th a n you yourself. Y our
le tte rs he c ru s h e s , u n re a d , in h is left h an d , w hile holding my le tte rs in
h is rig h t h a n d to read th e m .”
E n th u sia stic a lly he sw ung h is arm over h is head. “He k now s every­
th in g a th o u s a n d tim es b e tte r,” h e called.
“T en th o u s a n d tim e s ” sa id G eorge, to s n e e r a t h is fath er, b u t th e
w ords h ad a deadly s e rio u s s o u n d even in h is m o u th .
“F or y e a rs I have b een w aiting for you to com e w ith th is q u e stio n . Do
you th in k th a t an y th in g else in te re s ts m e? Do you th in k th a t I am re ad ­
ing n e w s p a p e rs ? T h e re ,” a n d h e th re w th e page of a p ap er, w hich
som ehow h a d b een c arried to th e bed, in G eorge’s directio n , an old
n e w sp ap er w ith a n am e w ith w hich G eorge w as unfam iliar.
“How long you h e s ita te d before becom ing m atu re. Y our m o th e r h ad
to die, s h e co u ld n o t ex p erien ce th a t day of joy, y o u r friend is p erish in g
in h is R u ssia , th re e y e a rs ago h e w as as yellow as d eath , an d I, j u s t see,
how th in g s are w ith m e. H aven’t you eyes to s e e ? ”
“So you sp ied on m e ? ” sa id George.
Pitifully h is father: “You p robably w anted to say th a t so o n e r? Now
it’s n o t th e th in g to say .”
A nd louder: “Now you know w h at w as going on o u tsid e yourself.
Before you only k new a b o u t yourself. You really w ere an in n o c e n t
child, b u t in reality, diabolical! - L isten: I now co n d em n you to d eath
by drow ning.”
George felt h im se lf c h a se d o u t of th e room ; in h is e ars rang th e blow
w ith w hich h is fa th e r h ad c ra s h e d o n to th e bed. W hile on th e sta irs,
over th e s te p s of w hich h e raced a s over a n oblique plane, he stu m b led
a g a in st th e clean in g w om an w ho w as a b o u t to go u p s ta irs to arran g e
th e ro o m s after th e n ig h t. “Good L ord,” s h e called, an d covered h e r
face w ith h e r ap ro n . B ut h e w as already gone. He ju m p e d o u t of th e
doorw ay, s o m e th in g drove h im a c ro s s th e s tr e e tc a r tra c k s to th e
w ater. A lready he h ad h o ld of th e p arap et, like a h u n g ry m an clu tc h in g
h is food. He sw ung over it, being an ex cellen t a th le te. C lutching th e
railing w ith w eak en in g h a n d s, h e saw a n o m n ib u s w hich w ould b reak
h is fall m o st easily, cried softly: “D ear p aren ts! Yes, I have alw ays loved
y ou ,” an d le t h im se lf go dow n.
At th a t m o m e n t a very heavy traffic w as c ro ssin g th e bridge.
Translated from the German, a n d adapted, by EUGENE JOLAS.
[FEBRUARY 1928]

— 150 —
 Paul KLEE

P a u l k k 'O
F ish-M an : M an-E ater

[NOVEMBER 1929]

— 151 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

F I t O M «M AXHA i r i X
\X V H l> IA H * Y »
l»yA lfnil lirevinhoi*!;

W hore. M is a n t h r o p e .

l E f V ER Y B O D Y T* H IS FELLOW
u sed h er w as alw ays
a s e a r th g o d d a m n in g th in g s
b e fo re fro m th e c ra d le
a n d no w to th e so d .
D e a th A n d d o u b tle s s
knocks if h e
a t th e d o o r. s h o u ld w ak e u p a g a in
h e ’ll b e g in
g o d d a m n in g G od.

[NOVEMBER 1927]

- READ IN . . . AMERICA [1927]

“G ertru d e S tein , living in F rance, h a s ap p aren tly forgotten E n g lish —a t
le a s t th e k in d of E n g lish th is review er s p e a k s .”
Detroit News.

— 152 —
 F ernand LEGER

IV i-iis tm ! L e « t* r
C om position

[JUNE 1930]

— 153 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

L o u i s L o z o ^ v ic k
M achine O rnam ent

[FEBRUARY 1929]

— 154 —
 R obert McALMON

EXT ItACT FROM A KOVEL

hy K o lic ii flc A liiio n

t S i T T l N G NEAR A TURN IN THE LEVEE OLD MAN W OODS TALKED TO N l. “ l TELL

you th e flood’s going to break th a t dam . Them college engineers w on’t
stop it w ith rocks, or none of th e ir w orked-out-on-paper ideas. Besides
they d id n ’t s ta rt piling rock soon en ough to have a b a n k sufficiently
stro n g w hen th e w aters h it th e levee.”
Ni believed Woods rig h t, sim ply because of an in stin c t of inevitability in
him , ra th e r th a n th ro u g h belief in th e old m a n ’s ju d g m en t. The flood
w ould be a n econom ic fatality for som e in th e valley, b rin g in g its loss of
cotton crops. Futile, however, as th e a tte m p t to forestall the fatality, th is
w as the way to do, to go on w orking doggedly, expecting the best and
accepting w h at happened.
It w as S atu rd ay . Ni w as an x io u s to be in town as he knew th a t the
negroes h ad th ro w n a b arbecu e d u rin g th e day, an d th ere w as to be a
negro dance on. He in ten d ed to go to it even if Paul o r th e Lym ans did not
go. Driving back to th e tow n th e s u n w as still clear; th e day w as m istless,
b u t oncom ing evening b ro u g h t a b rig h te r b rig h tn e ss as Ni’s conscious­
n ess becam e less aw are th a t h e a t w as cau sin g in ten se b rooding in the in ­
finity of sky. The red glow gleam ing th ro u g h th e opaque clarity was less
viciously h o t. Ni fo u n d Paul E llen th o rp e a n d th e two Lym ans a t th e
sh ack . P a u ls’ eyes w ere b lo o d sh o t from w eeks of w ork in m osquito-
ridden. oven-hot, sw am ps.
“Hell, Ni, we h av en ’t h a d m u ch talk th is sum m er, have we? Clarence
says you’re on y our heels to be E ast. I’ll give you letters to my b rother, and
friends there, even if n o th in g m u ch com es th ro u g h letters of in tro d u c­
tion, generally.
“At least I'll know som ebody there, th a t way. B ut I’ll get on som ehow .”
“W hen E lih u cam e b ack from th e arm y he stayed in New York. I h ad my
b ro th e r take h im a ro u n d , b u t he got afraid an d cam e back w ith o u t
sp en d in g two weeks to locate a job in th e E ast. T h a t’s no way to get
a h e a d ,” Paul said.
“I know. Too m uch m other, an d sister, in both Clarence’s and E lihu’s life.
B ut look at Elihu. His looks w on’t let him be taken seriously, and nobody
goes in for locating diam ond-in-the-rough m en if they can ’t blow their own
w histle. He’d only end u p as a n employe. E lihu h a s n ’t executive stuff
in him . A good cotton crop m ight m ake Clarence and Elihu well off here.’

— 155 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

“Dam n my h e a lth ,” E llenthorpe protested. “I was lined up w ith the

Subw ay com pany in New York, b u t ju s t as I was well u n d e r way the stra in
got me. It’s the h eat here I object to, an d the lack of com panionship. A
m an stag n ates w ith no stim u lu s.”
“Hey, if you guys w ant a show er b a th before dinner, you’d b e tter s ta rt,”
Elihu called from the shack, w here he was drying him self w ith a none-
too-clean towel. “And th a t bum , Ni, h ad b e tte r fix u s u p a high class meal.
Grill the steak brow n tonight, Ni.”
In tim e the meal w as on the san d , an d the m en chewed at a juicy steak.
Clarence ate quickly, to lean b ack an d jabber. "Well Ni, old-tim er, you’ll be
gone in the fall. You know, I could m ake a job for you a t our office w hen
Paul’s out of the valley. It’s hell here in the w inter time; lonely; and you’re
a talkative beezer.”
“Lay off th e k id ,” E lihu brooded. “Ni a in ’t a hick yet like you and me,
b u t h e ’d get to be one dow n here. I’ll m iss h is cooking, b u t hell, the chink
will have u s back over h is greasy slop-jar.”
“Send me books an d m agazines to Im perial Valley. I’ll be busy w ith the
new engineering p a rtn e rsh ip , b u t I w ant to know w h a t’s going o n ,” Paul
E llenthorpe said.
“You’re a soft bird, Paul,” Clarence said. “I’ll bet th e re’s a girl back E ast
more th a n it’s books you’re m issing. Hell, E lihu, you an d m e’ll jo in the El
Dorado club even if th e politics they talk there drive a guy blotto. They
have a good nigger cook.”
Paul chuckled. “Dat boy am som e exalted personage, Ah say. It seem s
he took religion on the astral plane some tim e back. He a in ’t ju s t com m on
folk. He serv es good food, b u t if an y o n e re g is te rs a kick, he looks
spiritually w ounded an d retires to the k itch en to take u p com m union
w ith the loftier so u ls.”
“Have som e m ore beer, P au l,” Clarence invited. “W hat do you th in k
you’ll do back E ast, Ni? Jo u rn a lism m ebbe?”
“D on’t ask m e,” Ni answ ered. “I h ate n ew spaper work; I detest advertis­
ing: b u t —I’ll try anything, an d w on’t stick it long. There are enough in
my family leading settled lives. I’d as soon be a hobo as n o t.”
“Bosh, w hat does all the intellectual life am o u n t to ? ” Clarence said.
“You d o n ’t get m ore kick out of life. You m ight as well give up. Suppose
you get headed for som eth in g an d a w ar b reak s out, or you get h it by a
tru c k .”
“Who’s talking ab o u t intellectual life?” Ni said irately. "All I w ant is to
move aro u n d an d keep in terested, and I haven’t a private income. I’m
ready to take it, or leave it, as regards an y th in g in life. B ut I’d p ass out
w ith boredom in th is valley. C otton crops d o n ’t inspire me, an d to hell
w ith w hether the flood b reak s the dam , except for Paul’s sak e.”
“D on't begin th in k in g n o th in g m atters at y our age, Ni,” Paul advised.
“It is n ’t the th in k in g , it’s th e feeling th a t n o th in g m atters th a t is de­
structive. Besides th a t so rt of th in g h ap p en s inside one. We d o n ’t decide
how we th in k or feel, m uch. My capacity for keeping discontented is

— 156 —
 R obert McALMON

helped w ith all th e tem p eram en tal p arp h e rn a lia necessary. May be th at
m eans I th in k th in g s can, do, m a tte r.”
"I know how you feel, Ni. It’s hell," Paul answ ered. "You’re still randy.
Not th a t I’ve lost my sex either, b u t I u sed to pace th e streets th in k in g
I’d do a n y th in g . T he fear of in fectio n got m e th ro u g h . I c o u ld n ’t be
p ro m is c u o u s . A nd, a m a n g e ts em o tio n ally involved w ith g irls of
h is own class. W here w ould I be now if I h a d been c a u g h t by m a r­
riage? I h ad a nice tim e in Italy an d France th o u g h for a year, before the
w ar.”
"Hell." Ni jerk ed out, “C an ’t a n A m erican find an y th in g in Am erica? It’s
rot loo th a t th e E u ro p ean co u n tries know so well how to live. I know an
Italian w ho w rites m e crazier letters th a n I’d ever w rite, and the French
young w riters have been knocked in th e belly as h a rd as anyone.”
'Til jog over tow n,” E lihu Lyman broke in. "If you guys settle whatever
you’re talking abo u t, sen d me a wire. Anyone going across the cotton
fields w ith m e? We m ight as well jo in th e b o n eheads in the village and
talk irrigation politics."
Soon th e four w ent across the cotton field. On th e edge of town they
p assed cam ps of people w ho h ad already beg u n to drift into the valley as
cotton pickers, or in an tic ip a tio n of a few days well paid w ork if the flood
broke the levee banks. Ni left th e o th ers to investigate the rem ains of the
negro barbecue. No negroes were a b o u t b u t th e re m n a n ts of food, cante-
loupe h u sk s, chicken bones, corn fritters, a n d half em pty beer bottles,
were strew n a b o u t w here the cen tral fire h a d been.
Ni w ent to th e dance hall. Som e old m am m ies an d greyheaded males,
were s ittin g a ro u n d c h a tte rin g a n d w heezing w ith lau g h ter as they joked.
“W heee-he-he-eough, M istah P rentice, s h u a h , d id n ’t you’all know dat
w hiskey wuz tea. W heee-he-he-ho-oooh, I n ear b u rst. You’all is crazy ef
you tin k Sol M arston is g ib b in ’way any ob h is liquor. Dat boy got religion
all right, b u t ’e sh o a h laks h is d rin k to hisself.”
Ni stood at th e door w atch in g th e glistening, beam ing, black faces,
extra greasy from food gorging at th e barbecue.
“Howdy honey," an old n egress w ho did Ni’s lau n d ry called to him . “I
done save you a chicken lak ah sez ah would, b u t honey, ah s h u a h had to
do battle foah it".
“G reat Lula, b u t I knew you would. You su re do know w hat food was
m ean t for," Ni answ ered, a n d w ent to J o e ’s for a drin k , as dancing would
not begin am ong th e negroes for a while. W hen he retu rn ed , reckless im ­
pulsiveness w as on him . The so u n d of m usic excited him . The dance hall
w as alive w ith gay young b ucks, an d m aidens dressed grandly for the
occasion. The older people at first sa t aro u n d , sm iling wistfully out of
th e ir sh in in g black faces. As they tapped th e ir feet a n d shrugged th eir
shoulders, however, they lost th e ir w istfulness, an d forgot th eir years,
a n d soon were d an cin g vehem ently. Ni stood in th e doorway. No other
w hite m en were about, an d b u t one or two M exicans who had come only
to look on. An In d ian girl, w ith a flabby, early m atronized body, w atched

— 157 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

the proceedings w ith curious apathy. Ni discovered she lived w ith one of
the negro m en.
In th e o rch estra a violinist swayed and rocked and shouted like a dog
howling a t the moon. A p ia n ist bounced on the piano stool, doing jig
steps w ith h is feet as he played. A d ru m m er banged m adly at h is bass and
snare drum s. Now a n d th e n he grabbed a potato w histle to m ake sh riek ­
ing, yodeling, calliope noises. Negro laug h ter a n d c h a tter flowed, volup­
tu o u s tim bred, th ro u g h th e evening air. After w atching a tim e Ni found
the flesh odour in the room, as of bee-hives, oppressive to him . He d id n ’t
w ant to sta n d w atching w hen he could not be a p a rt of the proceedings.
As he started back to J o e ’s, to join Harry Gallego for a last d rink, he heard
a voice say, “Evening honey, is youah lonely? Ah’s rig h t down good com ­
pany m ahself.”
Ni looked at th e speaker, a young half-breed negress he h ad seen about
town. She was not of th e com m unity negroes. He th o u g h t she was a girl
im ported by th e one w hite re sta u ra n t keeper in town, and if so, she
served as p ro stitu te a good portio n of the u n-m ated male population. He
laughed, looking at h er dubiously. She w as slender, full bosom ed, and
hot w ith anim al m agnetism .
“Doan youah w ant com pany. Ah’s lonely m ahself, and ah doan w ant to
go in w ith them no-count niggers. Ah’s creole, from New O rleans.” Her
voice was p ersuading. Ni w anted to talk to her, to hear h er soothingly
mellow voice talk on, to h e a r h e r laughter.
“No, I have to go o n ,” he told her, th in k in g , however, it would have been
d ifferent were th e tow n n o t so sm all an d gossipy, a n d th e prejudice
ag ain st negroes so in ten se in the town.
The w ater h ad risen twelve inches d u rin g th e n ight, and already during
the last four days every ran ch er in the valley who could get away was
working on the levee. G unnysacks were filled w ith san d and piled along
the b an k s to re stra in the flood w aters. D uring rest periods Ni heard
ran ch ers com plaining because th is or th a t ran ch er w as not doing his
sh are of work. “He w on’t have any crop to work on if the flood breaks.
This is a com m unity m atter, b u t you can tru s t him to let somebody else
do h is civic w ork.”
O ther m en boasted th a t they h a d n ’t slept for 24 or 36 hours. Every­
where was great disregard for ordinary routines. Everywhere were m en
pum ped full of excited c o nsciousness of th e ir own necessity in th is crisis.
When one rested, he was tak in g h is first rest, and h ad to ru sh back at
once to direct Indians, or M exicans, or o th er ranchers. There was not a
m an on th e job w ho did not know th a t if th e flood was controlled, it would
be because of h is advice, an d th a t if the llood broke, it w as because som e­
one had failed to follow h is directions.
Back from th e levee b an k s stood a huge thatch-roofed shack w hich had
been speedily erected to serve as kitchen. The grounds about the place
had b egun to be soggy w ith w ater com ing u p from u n d e rn e a th because of
flood w ater p ressure. Not fifty feet from th e k itchen the horses were
 R obert McALMON

h itch ed an d fed, an d th e odor of am m oniacal m an u re perm eated the air.

The cooks were a horribly dirty, one-arm ed Mexican; an old Scotchm an
w ith a cross dog disposition, the so rt of m an vicious-tem pered from
isolated living a n d h a rd sh ip s; a n d a ssista n ts; w aiters, k itchen boys, and
volunteer helpers. All cu rsed a n d reviled each other, cu rsed the m en at
w ork for th eir ap p etites, th e location for its u n clean n ess, the m anage­
m ent of the W ater com pany for lack of p rep aratio n for su c h em ergencies,
an d su ch eq u ip m en t as th ere w as as inadequate. Flies were ab out every
pot, pan, a n d d ish of food; flies congregated in m illions from stin k pools
an d m an u re piles. N either th e M exican or Scotch cook b o thered to w ash
th eir h a n d s after excretion. Som e m en w ould not eat th e food, at first;
o th ers ate on indifferently, saying, “T his a in ’t no tim e to be delicate.”
T hrough day a n d n ig h t, au to s, tru ck s, w agons, cam e an d w ent w ith
loads of m en, of cem ent lime, of g u n n y sacks. The h eat sweltered. The
flood w aters p u t steam in g h u m id ity in to th e a ir so th a t it w as stifling to
breathe. Heat a n d h u m id ity w rith ed a n d coiled a b o u t m en and horses;
h o rses dropped in th e ir h a rn e ss. Men felt sick at stom ach, an d rested in
w h at shade th ere was. B ut th e w ater w as still rising.
Ni h a d n ot h a d m ore th a n four h o u rs sleep o u t of tw enty-four for three
days. He h ad to ru s h from gang to gang, seeing th a t g u n n y sacks an d m en
were w orking w here co n d itio n s looked m ost dangerous.
At noon next day th e crisis seem ed bye. R anchers departed, and all
gangs w orked in a desultory m an n er. Ni s a t m u n ch in g a sandw ich a t an
in tersection of th e levee channel. Down th e levee som e tw enty M exicans
w orked w ith o u t energy. S uddenly a s h o u tin g arose. It increased to ex­
citem ent. Ni ju m p e d up. A m om ent later he h eard th e ru sh of w ater. The
levee h a d b u rs t. At first th e w ater seeped th ro u g h , b u t once the small
break occurred th e ru s h of w ater sw ept away m asses of the bank. There
w as no stoppin g it now, a n d cotton fields, stockfarm s, ra n c h houses, an d
roadways w ould be knee deep in w ater. Only the p assin g of flood season
w ould p e rm it the rep air of th e levee b an k s. Ni got in to a boat an d rowed
into the backw ater to circle a ro u n d w here th e tw enty M exican m en were
tra p p e d 011 th e levee. A fter h o t row ing u n d e r cottonw ood b ru s h , he
reached th e m en. They were calm now, a n d sm oked indifferently, seem ­
ingly at ease because th e flood w aters h a d m ade a decision for them . The
w ork of piling rock a n d san d b ag s w as over for the sum m er, w hich p u t
them o u t of a job, b u t th a t w as for tom orrow ’s thin k in g .
The next day m en were sta n d in g a b o u t tow n d iscu ssin g the flood,
b o astin g of w ork they’d done, each one giving h is reason why the th in g
a n d happened , a n d w ould n o t have h ap p en ed IF.

[AUGUST 1927]

— 159 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

SIGNATURE A^OMl flG

l>yAi*c‘liifntl«l iflsiel^eiKli

A s FOR MYSELF
My n am e is helved to th is iron

I w as a s tra n g e r in all th e lan d s of th e e a rth

I h a d no hom e in th e la n d s w here th e rain falls

Nor a tow n w here th e s tr e e t dogs k new me

The s o u n d of m y feet in th e road o r th e sm ell of my sh o e s

I w as of d o u b tfu l blood
I w as b o rn of th e race of th e G aels in th e o u tla n d

(It is a tro u b lin g th in g

To rem em b er th e sin g in g of rivers you have n o t heard)

My b ro th e r’s grave is over th e n o rth w ater

In th e sa n d w here th e y fought

The grave of my so n is m ade over th e w ater

T here in th e g reen k n o ll is h e laid

I do n o t know th e lan d w here my grave will be

T his craft is a h a rd craft I follow

I have no sk ill in th e new to n g u e I w as b o rn to

N everthless I can n o t be still

You th a t pity
L abor d one in p ain a t n ig h t an d in b itte rn e s s

T h in k if you read th e s e w ords in a b e tte r tim e

Of th e sh a p e of my m o u th form ing th e difficult le tte rs

[APRIL 1927]

— 160 —
 A rch ib ald MacLEISH

POEM DEDICATED TO
THE ADVANCEMENT OE
AVIATION...
I»yAitiiiliiild

B UT t h a t ’s a l l d i f f e r e n t n o w . t h e y ' v e g o t i t f i x e d .
T h ey give th e p riz es to A u th e n tic A rtists.
T h ey p u t n o C olley C ibbers in th e ir lists.
T h ey k n ow th e H om ers an d th e H acks apart.
(You te ll th e w ork s o f H om er b y th e blurbs)
T h ey k n ow th e b u m o n e s from th e Edna F erbers
A nd M iss M illay’s Own w ork from w h a t’s n o t h ers.
T h ey n ev er g et th e sa lt an d su gar m ixed —

T h ey k n ow to o m u c h . A nd w h en a ll’s d on e and said,

W hen all th e lad y n o v e lis ts and n ea t
S h e -p o e ts are (if w orm s still be) w orm ’s m eat
And n a m e s in m a g a zin es, i.e ., are dead.
No u n k n o w n kid w ill g et th e ir lau rel stem .
By Yee! T h ey ’ll h a v e n o K ea tses crow din g them !

[SEPTEMBER 1927]

SOME OPINIONS [1 9 2 9 ]
the revolution o f the word according to transition
weary parisians and expatriots tu rn so u r on the king’s english and set
o ut to reform it to th eir needs and who cares.
—from a page-review by G eorges Currie in the Brooklyn Eagle

— 161 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

TOURIST DEATH
(foi* N y lv ia l l e a c l i )
b y A r e l i i b a l d M a e L e i s li

^ PROMISED YOU T H ESE DAYS AND AN UNDERSTANDING

Of lig h t in th e tw ig s after su n fall

D o you a sk to d escen d
A t dawn in a new w orld w ith w et on th e p avem en ts
A nd a yaw ning ca t and th e fresh odor o f dew
A nd red geran iu m s u nd er th e sta tio n w indow s
A nd d oors w ide and b room s and th e s h e e ts on th e ra ilin g
A nd a w h istlin g b oy and th e su n lik e sh ella c on th e stre et

D o you a sk to em bark a t n ig h t a t th e th ird hour

S lid in g away in th e dark an d th e sa ils o f th e fisHiermea
S la ck in th e lig h t o f th e la n tern s and b lack se a s
A nd th e tid e g o in g down an d th e sp la sh and drip o f th e haw ser

Do y ou a sk so m eth in g to h app en a s sp rin g d o es

In a n ig h t in a sm all tim e and n o th in g th e S iun<s ag a in

Life is n eith e r a p riz e b o x nor a term in u s

L ife is a ha.fr th a t h a s fitte d th e p alm s o f m any
Dark a s th e helved oak
w ith sw eat b itter
Brow ned b y n um erous h an d s
D eath is th e r e st o f it
D eath is th e sam e b o n e s and th e tr e e s nearer
D eath is a se r io u s th in g lik e th e loam sm ell
Of th e plow ed earth in th e fall
D eath is here
N ot in an oth er p lace n ot am ong stran gers
D eath is u nd er th e m oon here and th e rain

I p rom ise you old siguis and a recogn ition

Of su n in th e se e th in g g r a ss and th e w in d ’s risin g

Do you a sk m ore
Do you a sk to travel forever
[FEBRUARY 1929)

— 162 —
 MAN RAY

M a il K a y
Photographic S tu d y
Man R ay is an American who has lived in Paris
several years, doing painting, sculpture and
photography. Within the past year, he has
evolved an abstract moving picture which m ay
be an important developm ent in
cinematographic art. i j u n e 19271

[FEBRUARY 1929]

— 163 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

A m l r e fliiMMHi
La R encontre

[JUNE 1930]

— 164 —
J o a n MIRO

•J o a n IVliro
P ainting

[DECEMBER 1927]

— 165 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

L . llu lio ly -i\ a ^ y

J e a lo u sy
L. Moholy-Nagy lives in Berlin. He is also a
member of the B auhaus of Dessau.

[FEBRUARY 1929]

166 —
F ra n cis PICABIA

r r a iic i^ P ic a h ia
P ainting
 IN tr a n sitio n

THE WORK OF PABLO

PICASSO
b y E l l i o t P stn l

^ H E R E LU C T A N C E OF SE N SIT IV E O B S E R V E R S TO P A S S J U D G E M E N T S U PO N
th eir co n tem p o ra ries, and e sp e c ia lly to sta te rather o b viou s tru th s
w h ich are tacitly a ccep ted am on g th e m se lv e s, m a k es it appear in
after years as if each ep o ch had m isu n d e r sto o d its e lf m ore co m ­
p letely than w as actu a lly th e c a se . D uring th e p a st tw en ty years,
th e j u s t reveren ce w h ich F rench d om in a tio n o f p ainting had in ­
sp ired for d eca d es h a s m ade c ritics all th e m ore tim id ab ou t giving
P ic a s s o h is full due.
No a rtist, even before th e d ays o f th e cam era, had for h is ob ject
th e m ere rep resen ta tio n o f o b jects. T he problem o f sp a ce and the
in ter-rela tio n s o f its d iv isio n s w as dim ly in th e m in d s o f G iotto and
h is co n tem p o ra ries. How lo n g th e early Italian p ain ters felt the in ­
tegrity and c o n tin u ity o f lin e s before it w as d efin itely sta ted that
th ey w ere n o t prim arily th e o u tlin e s o f tan gib le a rticles it is now
im p o ssib le to say. It is e n o u g h th a t p rin cip les o f co m p o sitio n have
developed , th a t id ea s o f p ersp ectiv e have expanded as sc ie n c e h as
p ro g ressed , th a t co lo r and lig h t have c o m e to be u n d ersto o d a s on e
and th e sa m e th in g.
T he tw en tieth cen tu ry op en ed w ith su c h a w ealth o f tradition and
inform ation th a t p ro g ress in pain tin g w as d ifficu lt to exp ect. A s
so o n a s P ic a ss o began w orking in h is M ontm artre stu d io , an eager
y o u n g Sp an iard w ith in fin ite g o o d -n a tu re and e n th u s ia s m , h is
natural g ifts w ere reco g n ized . It w as ack n o w led ged th at h e cou ld
draw m arvellou sly w ell, th a t he had p rofound hum an in sig h t in to
character and th a t h is o u tlo o k w as fresh and sig n ifican t.
He began by im proving u p on T o u lou se-L au trec, s in c e h e w as
su rrou n d ed by th e typ es th e latter had caricatured. B u t P ic a s s o ’s
early p a in tin g s w ere d ia b o lic a l, w h ere T o u lo u se -L a u tr e c ’s w ere
m erely g ro tesq u e. The in s tin c t for grow th, for co n tin u a l renew al o f
h is in sp ira tio n w as s o stro n g in P ic a sso that h is first su p p orters
d eserted him at o n c e . R elieved o f th e burden o f th eir e n d o rsem en t,
P ic a s s o h a s n ev er faltered . He s e e m s to have tu rn ed from th e
m a sters n e a r e st h im in p o in t o f tim e and travelled right back to the

— 168 —
 E llio t PAUL

primitive so u rces, failing at no point to learn the vital lesso n .

From Gauguin, P ica sso derived support for h is love of the exotic.
In the early “C ubist” land scap es the influence of Cezanne is b est
discerned. The linear perfection of Ingres, Daum ier’s integrity of
form, El Greco’s distortion for em ph asis, B otticelli’s radiance were
in turn exam ined, revered and appropriated by P icasso.
It is only th o se who fear for their individuality and doubt their
originality who sh u n in flu en ces. P icasso treated the work of all his
m asters as if it had been left unfinished, or perhaps he ch o se the
m asters w h ose principles were capable of further application.
His im patience with the then existing con ven tion s of painting is
evidenced in the first reproduction in th is num ber, which dates
about 1905. He had not relinquished Daum ier’s m ethod of building
forward from the background, but in the hands and the v esse l he
burst all previous restraint. Three years later, in the secon d paint­
ing, it will be see n that he has modified the scale of the head and
the body in order to harm onize their lin es and that the im plied con ­
tinuation of the principal lin es influence the background.
Having reached that point of departure, it is not strange nor illog­
ical that, in studying a given se t of objects, P ica sso ’s vigorous im­
agination sh ould se e the con tin u ation s of their planes and curved
surfaces. As the space he created becam e th u s anim ated, it was
natural that the o u tlin es sh ould dim inish in im portance and that
he sh ould ch o se h is own color scale instead of feeling bound by
the haphazard tin ts of nature. The third reproduction is from the
m ost pronounced Cubistic period. The figure of the m odel alm ost
disappears and the intersectin g planes su ggested by its surfaces
b ecom e visible and balanced three-dim ensionally.

There is nothing unreal about the parts of the figures in geom etry
b ooks w hich are indicated by dotted lin es. P o u ssin felt the sam e
aversion for dead space on a canvas, however plausibly excused by
its su p p osed representation of the sky, the earth, the sea, or the
floor of a room, or even the b osom of a lady. The French m aster in ­
troduced objects arbitrarily into the vacant sp aces, and h is array of
articles is certain ly, from a rational p oin t of view, more in c o n ­
gruous than P ica sso ’s array of planes.
Having liberated h im self from representation or com m ent, P icas­
s o ’s adventurous spirit was free to organize the en tities he had
created. No device the prim itives or c la ssic ists had u sed to beautify
or amplify their paintings was lo st upon him, but he has been able
to put their d iscoveries to a purer u se than they did, sin ce he felt

— 169 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

P a lilo P ic a s s o
1906

[SUMMER 1928]
 P ablo PICASSO

P a h l o PicuwMO
1921
AJriend once sait to Pablo Picasso, “Since you
can draw so beautifully, who do you spend your
time m aking these queer things?"
"That's the reason," replied Picasso.

[SUMMER 1928]

— 171 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

no obligation to identify the shapes he used, nor to apologize for

h is en th u siasm under the cloak of m ysticism .
For a time, P icasso was carried away by h is own discoveries but
he soon decided that mere com plication of detail was as bad for
Cubism as it was for illustrative drawing. From that tim e on, he has
striven for sim plicity until in 1927, as illustrated by the cover de­
sign, h is austerity is alm ost equal to that of Euclid. But a com ­
parison of the cover design with the painting of the boy and the jug
d isc lo se s subtle and unm istakable qualities in com m on.
The drawing of the two nude figures, the fourth of the reproduc­
tio n s , w as prelim in ary to th e period in w h ich he p ain ted th e
fam ous “Rose Nude” and if placed beside one of h is Toulouse-
Lautrec caricatures sh ow s an indefinable m astery of relationships
which later has becom e one of the m ost baffling and significant fac­
tors of h is art. The next painting, finished in 1921, com bines this
quality with the selected C ubistic technique, warmth w ithout se n ­
tim entality, sim plicity w ithout ob viou sn ess. The last sk etch is an
am azing display of virtu osity, in w hich the e sse n tia l lin e s and
rhythms of two boxers are captured in one instant of lightning
draftsm anship.
To underestim ate P ica sso ’s scope is to m isunderstand h is art,
which is the life-blood of the art of our epoch. His work has gained
as its elem en ts of suprise have ceased to bewilder us. What seem ed
at first m ost strange, appears in two short decades to be m ost in­
evitable. He has, as Gertrude Stein has remarked, organized the
esth etic world as Napoleon organized the political world of h is day,
and with an effect quite as permanent.

[SUMMER 1928]

— 172 —
 K atherine A nne PORTER

M A G IC

l»v K a l l i c r i u c A n n e P o r t e r

A » D M A D A M E B L A N C H A R D , B E L IE V E T H A T I AM HAPPY T O B E H E R E W ITH YOU

an d your family because it is so serene, everything, a n d before th is I
worked for a long tim e in a fancy ho u se - maybe you d o n ’t know w h at is a
fancy h o u s e ? N a tu ra lly . . . everyone m u s t have h e a rd so m e tim e or
an o th er. Well M adam e I w ork always w here there is w ork to be had. and
so in th is place I w orked very h a rd an d saw a lot of th in gs, th in g s you
w ouldn’t believe, an d I w ouldn’t th in k of telling you, only maybe it will
rest you while I b ru s h your h a ir. . . You'll excuse me too b u t I couldn’t
help h ea rin g you say to th e la u n d re ss maybe som eone h ad bew itched
your linens, they fall away so fast in th e w ash: Well, th ere w as a girl there
in th a t house, a poor th in g , th in , b u t po p u lar w ith all th e m en who
called, an d you u n d e rs ta n d sh e could n o t get along w ith the w om an who
ra n th e house. They quarrelled, th e m adam cheated h er on h er checks:
you know, th e girl got a check, a b ra ss one, every tim e, a n d at the w eek’s
end she gave th ese b ack to th e m adam , yes, I th in k th a t w as the way. and
got h er percentage, a very sm all little of h e r earnings: it is a b u sin e ss you
see like any o th er —an d th e m adam u sed to p reten d th e girl h ad given
back only so m any checks, you see, an d really she h a d given m any more:
b u t after they were o u t of h e r h a n d s, w h at could sh e do? So she would
say, I will get o u t of th is place, an d cu rse a n d cry th en . The m adam would
h it h e r over th e head. She always h it people over th e head w ith bottles, it
w as the way she fought, my good heavens M adame B lanchard, w hat
noise there w ould be som etim es w ith a girl ru n n in g raving dow nstairs,
an d the m adam pulling h e r back by th e h a ir an d sm a sh in g a bottle on
h e r forehead.
It w as nearly always a b o u t th e money, th e girls got in debt so. and if
they w ished to go they could n o t w ith o u t paying every sou m arque. The
m adam h ad full u n d e rsta n d in g w ith the police, th e girl m u st come back
w ith them or go to th e jails. Well, they always came back w ith the police­
m en or a n o th e r k in d of m an friend of th e m adam : sh e could m ake m en
w ork for h er too, b u t sh e p aid th em very well for all, let me tell you: and so
the girls stayed u n less they were sick: If so, if they got too sick, she sen t
them away again.
M adame B lanchard said, You are pulling a little here, and eased a
stra n d of hair: an d th e n w h at?

— 173 —
 IN tra n sitio n

Pardon —b u t th is girl, there was a tru e h atred between h er and the

m adam , she would say, I m ake m ore m oney th a n any body else in the
house, and every week were scenes. So at last she said one m orning, I
will leave th is place, an d she took o u t forty dollars from u n d er h er pillow
an d said, Here’s your money! The m adam began th e n to sh o u t Where
did you get all th a t, you — ? And accused h er of robbing the m en who
came to visit her. The girl said keep your h a n d s off or I’ll b rain you:
an d at th a t th e m adam took hold of h e r shoulders, and began to lift
her knee an d kick th is girl m ost terribly in th e stom ach, and even in
her m ost secret place, M adame B lanchard, an d th en she beat her in the
face w ith a bottle, an d the girl fell into h er room where I was m aking
clean: I helped h er to th e bed, an d she sa t there holding h er sides w ith
her head h an g in g down, an d w hen she got u p again there was blood
everywhere she h ad sat. So th e n th e m adam cam e in again an d scream ­
ed, Now you can get o u t, you are no good for me any m ore: I d o n ’t
repeat all, you u n d e rsta n d it is too m uch. B ut she took all the money she
could find, an d a t the door she gave the girl a great p u sh in the back
w ith h er knee, so th a t she fell again in th e street, and th en got up and
went away w ith th e dress barely on her.
After th is th e m en who knew th is girl kept saying, where is N inette?
And they kept ask in g this, so th a t the m adam could n o t say any longer, I
p u t h e r o u t because sh e is a thief. No she began to see she was w rong to
send th is N inette away, an d th en she said, She will be back in a few days.
And now M adame B lanchard, if you w ish to hear, I come to the strange
part, the th in g recalled to me w hen you said your linens were bew itched.
For the cook in th a t place was a w om an, colored like myself, like myself
w ith m uch French blood ju s t the sam e, like myself living always am ong
people w ho worked spells. B ut she h ad a very h a rd heart, she helped the
m adam in everything, she liked to w atch all th a t happened, and she gave
away tales on the girls. The m adam tru ste d h er above everything, and she
said, Well, w here can I find th a t slu t? because she h ad gone altogether
o ut of B asin street before the m adam began to ask of the police to bring
h er again. Well the cook said, 1 know a ch arm th a t w orks here in New
Orleans, colored w om en do it to b rin g back th eir men: in seven days
they come again very happy to stay and they cannot say why. It is a
New O rleans charm for sure, for certain, they say it does not work even
across the river. . . And th e n they did it ju s t as the cook said. They took
the cham ber pot of th is girls from u n d e r h er bed, and in it they mixed
w ith w ater an d m ilk all the relics of h er they found there: the h a ir from
h er b ru sh , an d the face powder from the box, and even little b its of her
nails they found ab o u t the edges of the carpet w here she sa t by h a b it to
cu t h er finger an d toe nails: a n d they dipped th e sheets w ith her blood
into th e w ater, an d all the tim e th e cook said som ething over it in a low
voice: I could not h ear all, b u t at last she said to the m adam , Now spit in
it: and th e m adam spat: an d the cook said. W hen she comes back she will
be the d irt u n d e r your feet.

— 174 —
 K atherine A nne PORTER

M adame B lanchard closed h e r perfum e bottle w ith a th in click: Yes,

a n d th e n ?
T hen in seven n ig h ts the girl cam e back an d she looked very sick, b u t
happy to be there. One of th e m en said, Welcome hom e, Ninette! and
w hen she sta rte d to speak to the m adam , the m adam said, S h u t up and
get u p sta irs an d dress yourself. So N inette, th is girl, sh e said. I’ll be down
in ju s t a m inu te. And after th a t she lived th ere quietly.

[SUMMER 1928]

NOTICE
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[NOVEMBER 1927]

^ 175 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

TROPICS
b y A lfo n s o K c y c s

T
M h e v ic in ity o f t h e s e a h a s b e e n a b o l i s h e d :
It is enough to kn ow th at our sh ou lders p r o te c t us;
th a t there is a huge green w indow
through which we m a y plunge f o r a swim .

It is not Cuba, where the s e a d iss o lv e s the soul.

It is not Cuba —th a t never s a w Gauguin,
th a t never s a w P ic a ss o —
where negroes cloth ed in yellow a n d green
roam a b o u t the dyke, betw een two lights,
a n d where the va n q u ish e d e y e s
d isse m b le their th o u gh ts no longer.

It is not Cuba - th a t never heard Stravinski

o rc h e stra te the s o u n d s o f m arim b a s a n d guiros
a t the burial o f P a p a Montero,
th a t p o m p o u s ra sc a l with his sw inging cane.

It is not Cuba —where the colonial y a n k e e

f ig h t s the h e a t by sipping c ra cked ice
on the terraces o f the houses;
- where police disinfect
the sting o f the la st m osqu itoes
th a t hum in s p a n is h still.
It is not Cuba —where the s e a is s o clear
th a t one m a y still s e e the wreck of the Maine,
a n d where a rebel leader
d y e s white the afternoon air,
fa n n in g in his rocker,
wearily smiling, the fra g r a n c e
o f c o c o a nuts a n d m a n g o e s fr o m the c u s to m s house.

— 176 —
 A lfonso REYES

No: here the e a rth trium phs a n d c o m m a n d s

— it c a lm s the s h a r k s a t its feet;
a n d b e tw e en the cliffs, la st v e stig e s o f A tlantis,
the s p o n g e s o f p o is o n o u s a lg a e
tain t the d istan ce, where the s e a h a n g s in the air
with a g reen g a ll like violet.
It is enough to know th a t our sh o u ld ers p r o te c t us:
the c ity o p e n s to the c o a s t
only its se rvice doors.

In the w e a r in e ss o f the w h a rv e s
the s te v e d o r e s are no sailors:
th ey carry under the brim o f their h a ts
a su n o f the fie ld s:
m en color o f man,
s w e a t m a k e s y o u kin to the donkey
—a n d y o u b a la n c e y o u r to rso e s
with the weight o f civilian p isto ls.

Heron Proal, h a n d s j o in e d a n d e y e s lowered,

c arries the holy word to the people;
a n d the s a s h e s o f the sh irt-sle e ve d officers
hold the overflowing o f their bellies
w ith a sp a rklin g row o f bullets.

The s h a d o w o f birds
d a n c e s upon the ill-sw ept sq u a re s.
There is a noise o f w ings on the high towers.

The b e s t m urderer in the country,

old a n d hungry, tells o f his p r o w e ss.
A m a n f r o m Juchitlan, s la v e e n ch ain ed
to the burden upon w h ich he rests,
s e e k s a n d ca tc h e s, with his b a re fo o t,
the c ig a r w h ich the s i e s t a dream
h a d let f a l l f r o m his mouth.

The c a p ta in s who have s e e n s o much,

enjoy, in silence,

— 177 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

the m int drinks in the d o o r w a y s ;

an d all the s to r m s o j the Can ary Islands;
a n d Cap Vert with its m otley lighthouses;
a n d the China ink o j the Yellow Sea;
a n d the Red S e a g lim p s e d afar
—once clejt by the J e w is h p r o p h e t’s rod;
a n d the Rio Negro whereJloat
the c a ra ve ls o f sku lls o f th ose e le p h a n ts
th a t helped along the Deluge with their trunks;
an d the Sulphur S e a
- where the horsem en perished, m en a n d goods;
a n d th a t o f A zo g u e th a t g iv e s teeth of gold
to the M alayan p ira te crews,
— all this is revived in the sm ell o f s u g a r alcohol,
and, wearing the thin blue, three-striped caps,
they leave the c a p tu re d butterflies,
while whirling clou ds o f sm o k e f l o a t up
f r o m p ip e s with cherry s te m s.

The vicinity o f the s e a is abolished.

The errant y elp o f b r a s s a n d wood-winds
rides around in a street-car.
It is enough to kn ow th a t our sh ou lders p r o te c t us.

(A huge green w indow behind us . . . )

the alcohol o f the s u n p a in ts with su g a r
the crumbling w alls o f the houses.
( . . . through which we plunge f o r a swim.)

H oney o f s w e a t akin to the donkey;

a n d men color o f men
contrive new l a w s ,

in the m idst o f the s q u a r e s

where bird-shadow s roam.

And I herald the a tta c k on the volcan oes

by th ose who h ave their shou lders to the sea:
when the e a te rs o f in sec ts
will drive the lo cu sts a w a y with their fee t,

— 178 —
 A lfon so REYES

—and within the silence of the capitals,

we will hear the coming of sandalled Joot-Jalls,
and the thunder of Mexican flutes.
Vera Cruz, 1 9 2 5 .
Translated from the M exican by the MARQUISE D’ELBfiE.

[FALL 1928]

CUT-OUTS FOR THE KIDDIES [1 9 2 7 ]

“F eelin g it o u r d uty to read b oth (M iss S te in ’s Elucidation a s originally

p rin ted and corrected v ersio n ), w e did s o , th en w e c u t up th e su p p le ­
m en t and th e m ag a zin e in to little p ie c e s, and p a sted th em in a n o th er
order. T h is failed to m ak e an y s e n s e eith er, so w e n ex t c u t up th e two
v e r s io n s again, p a ste d th em on typew riter paper, and, sta n d in g at th e
fo o t o f a tall stairw ay, threw th e m w ith all ou r m ight. We th e n co lle c te d
th em in th e order in w h ich th e y lan d ed , b ut still th e w ord s, w h ile th ey
w ere all very n ic e w ord s, d id n ’t m ak e s e n s e , s o w e gave it u p .”
Boston Transcript.

— 179 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

SEA-GHOST
b y l^ a iira R id in g '

A G H O ST R O SE W H EN TH E W AVES R O SE ,
When the waves sank stood colum nw ise
And broken: archaic is
The spirituality o f sea,
Water haunted by an imagination
Like water previously.

More ghost when no ghost,

When the waves explain
Eye to the eye . . .

Three dolphins made the day legendary,

And the ventriloquist gulls,
Their three-elem ent voice and angularity.
But on e natural ghost at sea
Outranks the legends,
Ages the m emory with restlessn ess,
The volcanic mind long cool in water and man
Except at night, w hen the sea is feverish
And a warm drizzle assails the eye
With the inhabitants of the sh oreless
Prem onition o f earth and water,
Day and night, man and ghost.

[JUNE 1927]

— 180 —
 L aura RIDING

AND THIS IN
LOVELINESS
h v L :iiu * a R i f l i n g

n
i ^ E C A U S E T H E A R M S , E Y E S , S T A N D IN G G R A C E
And other praisew orthies
P lease other arms and eyes and graces,
This is not beauty in them ,
It is a stupidness.
Beauty is a kind word.

Each part know s what it is,

And th is is truthfulness.
Each part know s what it does,
And th is is goodness.
Each part alone is stupid,
And th is is lovelin ess.

But beauty flatters like a germ,

Turns to a rich n ess,
Sw ells up th e lim bs,
Puffs out th e faces,
In fects the m ouths with m ajesty
And looking-glass grim aces,
Spreads like dropsy
Am ong praise w orthies,
Betraying stu p id n ess
To its stupidities,
Beauty to kindness,
Words, beauties.

[DECEMBER 1927]

— 181 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

IN A CAFE
b y L a u r a H id in g

TA HIS IS THE SEC O N D TIME I HAVE SE E N THAT GIRL H E R E . WHAT M AKES ME SUSP1-
ciou s is that her m anner has not changed. From her ears I should say sh e
is Polish. If th is is so, is it not dangerous to drink coffee here? D oes
anyone else think of this I wonder? Yet why should I be su sp icio u s? And
why should her m anner not remain unchanged? She has probably been
cold, unhappy, u n su ccessfu l or sim ply not alive ever sin ce I saw her last.
Quite sentim entally I w ish her su c c e ss. The man who is m aking sk etch es
from pictures in the Art Magazine may find her little P olish ears not re­
pulsive. For good luck I turn away and do not look at her again. I, who am
neither primitive nor genteel, like this place b ecau se it h as brown curtains
of a shade I do not like. Everything, even my position, which is not against
the wall, is unsatisfactory and pleasing: the men com ing too hurriedly, the
women too com fortably from the lavatories, which are in an u nn ecessarily
prom inent p osition — all this is disgusting: it puts me in a sordid good-
humour. This attitude I find to be the only way in which I can defy my own
intelligence. Otherwise I should becom e barbaric and be a modern artist
and intelligently mind everything, or I should becom e civilized and be a
Christian S cien tist and intelligently mind nothing. Plainly the only prob­
lem is to avoid that love of lo st identity which drives so m any clever people
to hold difficult points of view —by difficult I mean big and obviously re­
ligious points of view which absorb their personality. I for one am resolved
to mind or not mind only to the degree where my point of view is no larger
than m yself. I thu s have a great number of points of view no larger than the
fingers of my hand and which I can treat as I treat the fingers of my hand, to
hold my cup, to tap the table for me and fold them selves away w hen I do not
w ish to think. If I fold them away now, then I am sitting here all this time
(without ordering a secon d cup) b ecau se other people go on sitting here,
not b ecau se I am thinking. It is all indeed, I admit rather horrible. But if I
remain a person instead of becom ing a point of view, I have no contact with
horror. If I becom e a point of view, I becom e a force and am brought into
direct contact with horror, another force. As well se t one plague of cats
lo o se upon another and expect peace of it. As a force I have power, as a per­
son virtue. All forces eventually com m it su icide with their power, w hile vir­
tue in a person m erely gives him a sm all though con stant pain from being
con tinu ously touched, looked at, m entally handled; a pain by which he
learns to recognize him self. Poem s, being more like p ersons, probably

— 182 —
 Laura RIDING

only squirm every tim e they are read and wrap them selves round more
tightly. Pictures and p ieces of m usic, being more like forces, are so o n worn
out by the power that h olds them together. To me pictures and m usic are
always like stories told backwards; or lik e th is I read in the newspaper: “Up
to the la st sh e retained all her facu lties and w as able to sign ch e c k s.”
It is certainly tim e for me to go and yet I do not in the least feel like going.
I have been through certain in tim acies and sm all talk with everything here,
w hen I go out I shall have to begin all over again in the street, in addition to
wondering how many people are being run over behind me; w hen I get
hom e I sh all turn on the light and say to m yself how glad I am it is winter,
with no m oths to kill. And I shall look behind the curtain where my cloth es
hang and think that I have done th is ever sin ce the hom ocidal red-haired
boy confided h is fear to m e and I was sorry for him and went to h is room
and did it for him . And my first look round will be a W uthering-Heights
look; after that I sh all settle down to work and forget about m yself.
I am w ell aware that we form, all together, one m onster. But I refuse to
giggle and I refuse to be frightened and I refuse to be fierce. Nor will I feed
or be fed on. I will sim ply think of other thin gs. I will go now. Let them
stare. I am w ell though eccentricly dressed.

[OCTOBER 1927]

GOOD VALUE [1927]

“C o n ta in s 182 p a g e s.”
Samuel Dashiell.New York Evening Post.

— 183 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

AUTUMM DAY
b y R a i n e r M a r ia R i l k e

- o r d : it is t im e , su m m er w as very g r e a t .
Lay th y sh ad ow on th e su n n y h o u rs
and on th e field s le t lo o s e th y w in d s.

C om m and th e la s t fru its to ripen,

give th em still tw o so u th er ly d ays,
p r e ss th em to fu lfilm en t and h u n t
th e la st s w e e tn e s s to th e h eavy w ine,

Who still h a s n o h o u se , b u ild s n o m ore,

w ho still a lo n e, w ill lo n g rem ain so ,
w ill w ake, read, w rite lon g le tter s,
and in th e la n e s w ill here and there
u n se ttle d w ander, a s th e le a v es are driven.
Translated from the German by
ZORA PUTNAM WILKINS.

| SEPTEMBER 1927]

— 184 —
 R ainer M aria RILKE

RENEMBRAWCE
liy K s iiiie r U lsiria Itilkc*

A , D Y O U A W A IT , A W A IT T H E O N E T H IN G
yo u r life w ith o u t en d to augm ent;
th e m ighty, th e m arvelou s,
th e a w ak en in g o f s to n e s ,
d ep th s tu rn ed b ack to y ou .

D u sk falls o n th e b o o k c a s e s ,
th e v o lu m e s in gold and brown;
and y o u th in k o f la n d s traveled over,
o f p ictu r es, o f th e garm en ts,
o f w om en lo s t o n c e m ore

A nd all at o n c e y o u know : T h at w as it.

You ra ise y o u rse lf, and b efore yo u stan d
from a lo n g departed year
a n g u ish and dread and prayer.
Translated fro m the German by
ZORA PUTNAM WILKINS.

[SEPTEMBER 1927]

— 185 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

PRE SEIVFIHENT
I): I t iiin e r t la r is i K iik e

^ A M L IK E A P E N N A N T F R O M A F A R E N C IR C L E D .
I foreb od e th e d estin ed w inds; I m u st live th em
w h ile n o th in g dow n b elow h as y e t b egu n to stir;
th e d oors are still c lo sin g softly: in th e c h im n e y s th ere is quiet;
n o t y et do w in dow s q uiver and still th e d u st lie s h eavy.
A lready I k now th e storm : I am stirred lik e th e sea.
I stretch and strain , fall back again,
and h url m y se lf up, and am all a lo n e
in th e great storm .
Translated fro m the German by ZORA PUTNAM WILKINS.

[SEPTEMBER 1927]

— 186 —
 D iego RIVERA

R iv e r a
M ural

IFrom the follow ing issue:] The nam e of the

Mexican painter Rivera w as given in the last
num ber of transition as Piedro Rivera. His nam e
is Diego Rivera.

[FEBRUARY 1929 J

— 187 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

PAULA A \l> FLOMA

b v T l i e o K ia lr a

HE LILYGUSHES RING AND TING THE BILBELS IN THE IVILLEY. LILOOLS

sa rt slingslong'dang unto th e c lish o f su n . The p ool d ries m u st. The mor-

rowlei loors in th e m eaves. The sard in ew u n gs flir flar and m eere. A
flish fla sh flin g h o o h a o s and h a a s. Long sh ill th e m elloh oolooloos. The
ramgomane clan k s ju n g lin g flig h t. The eleg o a t m ick m eck s and cro o ls. A
ra b otick ringr&ngs th e stam . A p lu to cr a ss w ith th ro a t o f ste e l. Then
woor o f m ea d o w ca lif s rou t. The h ed gek in g g loo s. And m atem aids click
for d artalays.

[JUNE 1929]

w m c i: m a s s o n
l>_vTIh'DItulra

T HE LOORABALBOLI GLIDES THROUGH THE ALGROVES SUDDENLY TURNING

upon itse lf. T here is a sp ira l sp a tter o f silver. A th u n d erb elt lie s in
w hite. The rolls drum down th e h id d en m alvin es, w here th e g u llin g h a les
flap finw in gs casu ally. The fea th ers of th e sa lib r i g lin t in th e m arlite.
T h en th e loorabalbolii sin g s: “O p u p p e ts o f th e e r e m ite s, th e w eed-
m aid s fever love. S en d O ctob us to sh ores o f clay; th iev e y o u n g lin g s ou t
o f sh ea v es o f ic e .” A nd trou tro o ts d ance. T here is a b lish . A w onderlope
w hirs through th e floom .

[FEBRUARY 1929]

— 188 —
 P h ilip p e SOUPAULT

P(»EM
l»v l*liili|»|>«‘ S o n p a u l l

my th irst is too big

I stop and wait
for the light
Paradise paradise paradise

(Authorized translation fro m the French by EUGENE JOLAS.)

[APRIL 1927]

SOME OPINIONS [1 9 2 9 ]
- T ransition is the m ost representative m agazine of m odern tendencies
in the English language today . . . —B ernard Fay in L a Revue Hebdomadaire

— 189 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

K i i r l N c im il lerju
W orkm an's Picture
Kurt Schwitters is a German living in Hannover, who conceived independently
the idea of using materials other than pigments fo rfla t compositions in color.
During the past several weeks he has been engaged solely in answering
m essages of congratulation he received on his fortieth birthday.

(JUNE 1927]

— 190 —
 G ertrude STEIN

l)ENC ltll*TIO.\N OF
LITERATURE
lrv C iie rlriu le N lr iii

BO O K W HICH SH O W S THAT T H E N E X T A N D B E S T IS T O B E FO UN D OUT

w h e n th e re is p le a s u re in th e re a so n .
For th is re a so n .
A b o o k in w h ic h by n e a rly all of it finally a n d a n o b s tru c tio n it is
p la n n e d a s u n ifie d a n d n e a rly a d is tin c tio n . To be d is tin g u is h e d is
w h a t is d e sire d .
A b o o k w h e re in p a r t th e re is a d e s c rip tio n of th e ir a ttitu d e a n d
th e ir w ish e s a n d th e ir w ays.
A b o o k w h ic h s e ttle s m o re n e a rly th a n h a s ever b e e n yet d o n e th e
a d v a n ta g e s of follow ing la te r w h ere th e y have fo u n d th a t th ey m u s t
go­
A b o o k w h e re n e a rly e v e ry th in g is p re p a re d .
A b o o k w h ic h sh o w s th a t a s it is n e a rly equally b e s t to say so, as
th ey say a n d sa y so.
A b o o k w h ic h m a k e s a m e n tio n of all th e tim e s th a t even th ey
reco g n ize a s im p o rta n t.
A book w h ic h follow ing th e sto ry th e sto ry sh o w s th a t p e rso n s in ­
c u rrin g b lam e a n d p ra is e m a k e n o r e tu r n for h o sp ita lity .
A b o o k w h ic h a d m its th a t all t h a t h a s b e e n fo u n d to b e looked for is
of im p o rta n c e to p laces.
A b o o k w h ic h m a n a g e s to im p re s s it u p o n th e y o u n g th a t th o se
w ho op p o se th e m follow th e m a n d follow th em .
A b o o k n a tu ra lly ex p la in s w h a t h a s b e e n th e r e s u lt of in v e stig a tio n .
A b o o k th a t m a rk s th e m a n n e r in w h ic h lo n g er a n d s h o rte r p ro p o r­
tio n a te ly sh o w m e a su re .
A b o o k w h ic h m a k e s n o m is ta k e in d e s c rib in g th e life of th o se w ho
c a n be h a p p y .
T he n e x t b o o k to a p p e a r is th e o n e in w h ic h m o re e m p h a s is will be
given to n u m b e r s of th e m .
A b o o k w h ic h w h e n y o u o p e n it a t t r a c t s a tte n tio n by th e u n ­
d o u b te d d e n ia l of p h o to g ra p h y a s a n a rt.
A b o o k w h ic h re m in d s itse lf t h a t h a v in g h a d a c u sto m it only n e ed s
m ore of it a n d m ore-

— 191 —
 IN tra n sitio n

A book w h ic h c a n n o t im b u e a n y one w ith a n y d esire except th e one

w h ic h m a k e s c h a n g e s com e later.
A b o o k e x p la in in g w hy m o re of th e m feel a s th e y do.
A b ook w h ic h a ttr a c ts a tte n tio n .
A b o o k w h ic h is th e first book in w h ic h so m e o ne h a s b e e n telling
w hy o n one sid e r a th e r th a n o n th e o th e r th e re is a ten d en cy to
s h o rte n s h o rte n w h a t. S h o rte n m ore.
A b ook w h ic h p la n s h o m e s for a n y of th e m .
A b ook a b o o k telling w hy w h e n a t once a n d a t once.
A b o o k tellin g w hy w h e n sa id th a t, s h e a n sw e re d it a s if it w ere th e
sam e.
A b ook w h ic h tells w hy colonies have n early a s m a n y u s e s a s they
are to have now .
A b o o k w h ic h m a k e s n o d iffe re n c e b e tw e e n o n e je w e le r a n d
a n o th e r.
A b o o k w h ic h m e n tio n s all th e people w ho have h a d in d iv id u al
ch a n c e s to com e a g a in .
A b ook in tr a n s la tio n a b o u t eggs a n d b u tte r.
A book w h ic h h a s g re a t p le a su re in d e sc rib in g w h e th e r a n y fu rth e r
a tte n tio n is to be given to h o m e s w h ere h o m e s have to be h o m es.
A b o o k h a s b e e n carefully p re p a re d a lto g e th er.
A b o o k a n d d e p o site d a s well.
A b ook d e sc rib in g fish in g exactly.
A book d e sc rib in g six a n d six a n d six.
A b o o k d e sc rib in g six a n d six a n d six seventy-tw o.
A b o o k d e sc rib in g E d ith a n d M aiy a n d flav ouring fire.
A book d e sc rib in g a s a m a n all of th e sa m e ages all of th e sa m e ages
a n d n early th e sam e.
A book d e sc rib in g h e s ita tio n a s exem plified in p len ty of ways.
A b o o k w h ic h c h a n c e s to be th e o n e u n iv e rsa lly d e s c rib e d a s
energ etic.
A b o o k w h ic h m a k e s n o m ista k e s e ith e r in d e sc rip tio n or in d e p a r­
tu re o r in f u r th e r a rra n g e m e n ts .
A b o o k w h ic h h a s m ad e all w ho re a d it th in k of th e h o p e th e y have
th a t so m e tim e th e y will hav e fairly n early all of it a t once.
A b ook in w h ic h th e re is n o c o m p la in t m ad e of forest fires a n d
w ater.
A b o o k m o re th a n ever n eed ed .
A b ook m ad e to o rd e r a n d th e only th in g th a t w as forg o tten in
o rd e rin g w as w h a t n o o n e o bjects to. C an it easily be u n d e rsto o d .
It c a n a n d will.
A b o o k w h ic h p laces th e in te re s t in th o se s itu a tio n s w h ic h have
s o m e th in g to do w ith reco llectio n s a n d w ith r e tu rn s .
A b ook w ith m o re re sp e c t for all w ho have to h e a r a n d have h e a rd a

— 192 —
 G ertrude STEIN

b ook w ith m ore re s p e c t for all w h o h av e h e a rd it.

A book m o re th a n ever read .
A b ook by a n d by.
A book n o t n early so m u c h b e tte r th a n ever.
A b ook a n d fo u rte e n . T h e in flu e n c e of th is b o o k is s u c h th a t no one
h a s h a d m o re th a n th is o p p o rtu n ity .
A b ook of d a te s a n d fears.
A b o o k m o re th a n ever a d e s c rip tio n of h a p p in e s s a n d a s you were.
A book w h ic h m a k e s th e e n d com e j u s t a s so o n a s it is in te n d e d .
A book w h ic h a s k s q u e s tio n s o f every one.
A b o o k fairly c e rta in of h a v in g a d m ire rs w h e n a t once th e re are
a d m ire rs of it.
A b o o k w h ic h sh o w s t h a t a g re e a b le n e ss c a n b e a fe a tu re of it all.
A book w h ic h m a k e s a play of d a u g h te r a n d d a u g h te rs .
A b o o k w h ic h h a s c h a r a c te r a n d sh o w s th a t n o one n ee d deceive
th e m se lv es a s to th e s e n d in g of gifts.
A b o o k w h ic h h a s a d e s c rip tio n of th e selectio n a n d p la cin g of
c h a irs a s a n e le m e n t in V ien n ese a n d A m erican life.
A b o o k w h ic h s ta n d a r d iz e s r e q u e s ts a n d a n n o u n c e m e n ts .
A book w h ic h u rg e s a n d re a so n a b ly so th e a ttr a c tio n of so m e for
o th e rs.
A b o o k in w h ic h th e re is n o m e n tio n of ad v a n ta g e s.
A b o o k a tta c h in g im p o rta n c e to e n g lish a n d fre n c h n a m e s.
A bo o k w h ic h h a s to b e carefully re a d in o rd e r to b e u n d e rs to o d a n d
so th a t th e illu sio n o f s u m m e r a n d s u m m e r a n d s u m m e r a n d s u m ­
m e r does n o t re m a in d eceiving. So m u c h so.
A book n arro w ly placed o n th e s h e lf a n d o ften ad d e d . A dded to th a t.
A b o o k of a d d re s s e s in v e n te d for th e sa k e of th em selv es.
A b o o k a n d a b o o k sto re . A b o o k for th e m . Will th e y be in it.

[SUMMER 1928]

SOME OPINIONS [1 9 2 9 ]
. . . that irritating hodgepodge of genius and nonsense . . . transition . . .
Lewis Gannett in the New York Herald-Tribune.

- 193 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

THE LIFE OE «HJAN GRIN

THE EIEE AND DEATH OE
•HJAN GRIS
b y O e i i r n d o N te in

u a n G r is w a s o n e o f t h e y o u n g e r c h i l d r e n o f a w e l l t o d o
m erchant of Madrid. The earliest picture he has of him self is at about
five years o f age d ressed in a little lace d ress standing b esid e h is
m other who was very sw eet and pleasantly maternal looking. When he
was about seven years old h is father failed in b u sin ess honourably and
the family fell upon very hard tim es but in one way and another two
so n s and a daughter lived to grow up well educated and on the whole
prosperous. Juan w ent to the sch ool of engineering at Madrid and
w hen about sev en teen cam e to Paris to study. He te lls delightful
stories of h is father and Spanish ways w hich strangely enough he
never liked. He had very early a very great attraction and love for french
culture. French culture has always seduced me he was fond of saying.
It sed u ces me and then I am seduced over again. He used to tell how
Spaniards love not to resist tem ptation. In order to please them the
better cla ss m erchants su ch as his father would always have to leave
many little things about everything else being packages carefully tied
up and in the back on sh elves. He used to dwell upon the lack of trust
and com radeship in Spanish life. Each one is a general or does not
fight and if he d oes not fight each one is a general. No one that is no
Spaniard can help any one because no one no Spaniard can help any
one. And th is being so and it is so Juan Gris was a brother and com ­
rade to every one being one as no one ever had been one. That is the
proportion. One to any one num ber of m illions. That is any proportion.
Juan Gris w as that on e. French culture w as alw ays a sed u ctio n .
Bracque who was su ch a one was always a seduction seducing french
culture seducing again and again. J o sette equable intelligent faithful
spon tan eou s delicate courageous delightful forethoughtful, the sch ool
of F aintainebleau delicate deliberate m easured and free all th ese
things seduced. I am seduced and then I am seduced over again he was
fond of saying. He had h is own Spanish gift of intimacy. We were in­
timate. Juan knew what he did. In the beginning he did all sorts of
things he u sed to draw for hum ourous illustrated papers he had a child
a boy named George he lived about he was not young and enthusiastic.
The first serious exhibition of h is pictures was at the Galerie Kahn-
weiler rue Vignon in 1914. As a Spaniard he knew cubism and had

— 194 —
 G ertrude STEIN

stepped through into it. He had stepped through it. There was beside
this perfection. To have it show n you. Then came the war and d eser­
tion. There was little aid. Four years partly illn ess m uch perfection and
rejoining beauty and perfection and then at the end there cam e a defi­
nite creation of som ething. This is what is to be m easured. He made
som ething that is to be m easured. And that is that som ething.
Therein Juan Gris is n ot anything but more than anything. He made
that thing. He made the thing. He made a thing to be m easured.
Later having done it he could be sorry it was not why they liked it.
And so he made it very well loving and he made it with plainly playing.
And he liked a knife and all but reasonably. This is what is made to be
and he then did som e stage setting. We liked it but nobody else could
see that som eth ing is everything. It is everything if it is what is it.
Nobody can ask about m easuring. Unfortunately. Juan could go on
living. No one can say that Henry Kahnweiler can be left out of him. I re­
member he said “Kahnweiler g o es on but no one buys anything and I
said it to him and he sm iled so gently and said I was everything.” This
is the history of Juan Gris.

[JULY 1927]

POPULAR APPEAL [1927]

“H op elessly m uddled and un intelligible.”
New York Times.

— 195 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

T ill: BROOKLYN BRIDGE

(A o f l l y L ife )

b y J o s e p h W lolla

D U R IN G T H E L A S T Y E A R S O F T H E W A R I W E N T T O L IV E I N B R O O K L Y N , IN
the m ost forlorn region o f the oceanic tragic city, in Williamsburg,
near the bridge.
Brooklyn gave me a sen se o f liberation. The vast view of her sky, in
opposition to the narrow one o f NEW YORK, was a relief —and at night,
in her solitude, I used to find, intact, the green freedom of my own self.
It was the tim e w hen I was awakening in my work an echo of the
o c e a n ic p o ly p h o n y (n ever heard b efore) e x p ressed by th e ste e ly
orchestra o f m odem constructions: the tim e when, in rivalry to the
new elevation in superior spheres as em bodied by the skyscrapers and
the new fearless audacity in soaring above the abyss o f the bridges, I
was planning to u se all my fire to forge with a gigantic art illim ited and
far rem oved from the insignificant frivolities o f easel pictures, pro­
ceeding severely upon a m athem atic precision o f intent, anim ated only
by essen tial elem ents.
War was raging with no end to it —so it seem ed. There was a sen se of
awe, o f terror w eighing on everything — obscuring people and objects
alike.
Opposite my studio a huge factory —its black walls scarred with red
stigm as o f m ysterious b attles — was tow ering w ith the gloom o f a
prison. At night fires gave to innum erable windows m enacing blazing
looks o f dem ons — w hile at other tim es vivid blue-green lights rang
sharply in harm ony with the radiant yellow -green alertness o f cats en-
jew elling the obscurity around.
S m oke, p erp etu a lly a risin g, p erp etu a lly rem inded o f war. One
moved, breathed in an atm osphere o f DRAMA —the im pending drama
of POE’S tales.
My artistic faculties were lashed to exasperation o f production. I felt
urged by a force to m ould a com pact plasticity, lucid as crystal, that
would reflect —with im passibility —the m assive density, luridly accen ­
tuated by lightning, o f the raging storm, in rivalry of POE’S granitic,
fiery transparency revealing the swirling horrors o f the Maelstrom.
With anxiety I began to unfold all the poignant deep resonant colors,
in quest o f the chrom atic language that would be the exact eloquence
o f ste e ly a rch itectu res — in q u est o f phrases that w ould have the

— 196 —
J o se p h STELLA

•JoKC|»ll N le llil
B rooklyn Bridge

[JUNE 1929)

— 197 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

greatest vitriolic penetration to bite with lasting unmercifulness of

engravings.
Meanwhile the verse of Walt Whitman - soaring above as a white
aeroplane of Help - was leading the sails of my Art through the blue
vastity of Phantasy, while the fluid telegraph wires, trembling around,
as if expecting to propagate a new musical message, like aerial guides —
leading to Immensity, were keeping me awake with an insatiable thirst
for new adventures.
I seized the object into which I could unburden all the knowledge
springing from my present experience —“THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE.”
For years I had been waiting for the joy of being capable to leap up to
this subject - for BROOKLYN BRIDGE had become an ever growing
obsession ever since I had come to America.
Seen for the first time, as a weird metallic Apparition under a metal­
lic sky, out of proportion with the winged lightness of its arch, traced
for the conjunction of WORLDS, supported by the massive dark towers
dominating the surrounding tumult of the surging skyscrapers with
their gothic majesty sealed in the purity of their arches, the cables, like
divine messages from above, transmitted to the vibrating coils, cutting
and dividing into innumerable musical spaces the nude immensity of
the sky, it impressed me as the shrine containing all the efforts of the
new civilization of AMERICA - the eloquent meeting point of all forces
arising in a superb assertion of their powers, in APOTHEOSIS.
To render limitless the space on which to enact my emotions, I chose
the mysterious depth of night —and to strengthen the effective acidity
of the various prisms composing my Drama, I employed the silvery
alarm rung by the electric light.
Many nights I stood on the bridge —and in the middle alone —lost —a
defenceless prey to the surrounding swarming darkness —crushed by
the mountainous black impenetrability of the skyscrapers —here and
there lights resembling suspended falls of astral bodies or fantastic
splendors of remote rites —shaken by the underground tumult of the
trains in perpetual motion, like the blood in the arteries —at times,
ringing as alarm in a tempest, the shrill sulphurous voice of the trolley
wires — now and then strange moanings of appeal from tug boats,
guessed more than seen, through the infernal recesses below —I felt
deeply moved, as if on the threshold of a new religion or in the
presence of a new DIVINITY.
The work proceeded rapid and intense with no effort.
At the end, brusquely, a new light broke over me, metamorphosing
aspects and visions of things. Unexpectedly, from the sudden unfold­
ing of the blue distances of my youth in Italy, a great clarity announced
PEACE —proclaimed the luminous dawn of A NEW ERA.
Upon the recomposed calm of my soul a radiant promise quivered
and a vision —indistinct but familiar —began to appear. The clarity be­
came more and more intense, turning into rose. The vision spread all

— 198 —
 J o se p h STELLA

the largeness of Her wings, and with the velocity of the first rays of the
arising Sun, rushed toward me as a rainbow of trembling smiles of re­
surrected friendship.

A n d o n e clea r m o r n in g o f A p ril I fo u n d m y s e lf in th e m id s t o f jo y o u s
sin g in g a n d d e lic io u s s c e n t - th e sin g in g a n d th e s c e n t o f birds and
flow ers rea d y to celeb ra te th e b a p tism o f m y n e w art, th e birds and th e
flow ers alrea d y e n je w e llin g th e te n d e r foliage o f th e n ew -b o rn tree o f
m y h o p e s — “T h e Tree o f M y L ife. ”

[JUNE 1929]

TRANSITION
Will appear each month
EDITED BY

EUGENE JOLAS and ELLIOT PAUL

Manuscripts and all correspondence tould be addressed
to « T R A N S I T I O N », *0 rue Fabert, '.Paris, VII*

SUBSCRIPTION'S
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The physical aspect and adm inistrative machinery o f «TRANSITION #

are purposely modest in order to insure its regular appearance. The edi­
tors desire th a t its appeal shall rcmult from the quality of its contenta
and will concentrate th eir efforts in th a t direction particularly, It will
greatly facilitate distribution if reader* wiahing to rec^ve the magatine
subscribe prom ptly and directly through the Paris office.

[APRIL 1927]

— 199 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

A QUARTER OF AN HOUR
RETWEEN COD AND THE
OFFICE
li.V L o r i n c z N zsilio

^ S l e sse d be th o u , lovely
morning that pour
your warm wave into my face;
when I step over
my sad threshold: oh!
the peace o f God
lies behind m e already,
be blessed still,
lovely quarter o f an hour,
when the rumbling street-cars
hurl me to th e city,
the m ills, the boring offices,
the fetid prisons
o f the cowardly day,
when through the sou ls and through the windows
sh in es the oblique light!
Now
I belong to m yself, furtively I receive
into my rejuvenated eyes
the warmth o f gentle life,
the bright stockings of hastening girls,
the gipsy desires o f m isery
chained to m oney,
and I em brace my brothers running with me
in the street-cars that are hurled
to the city o f m oney,
accursed prisons
o f the inquisitor-day,
and dreaming with m e o f all the beauty
and weeping with every joy,
for th is is th e last farewell to life
this m om ent before the office,
in the sun-sprinkled street, this m om ent,
 L orin cz SZABO

revolt o f my rested sen ses,

daily hope for liberty,
unique and holy quarter o f an hour
betw een God and th e office.

B lessed be thou, lovely

trip in the street-car,
golden m orning,
for having really stayed by me,
and joyou sly
accept the salute o f th ose about to die.

Translated fro m the H ungarian by L. GARA and M. LARGEAUD.

[SEPTEMBER 1927]

FEARLESS IN ITS ATTACKS [1927]

“O nslought and ravage upon the E nglish language.”

S aturday Review o f Literature.

— 201 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

LETTER FROH
GREENWICH VILLAGE
b y G e n « ie v e

M ^ IG H T H S T R E E T , F R O M T H E 6 T H A V E N U E E L ., T O T H E S L IC K R E M O D E L L E D
Brevoort always seem s to be especially New York. Som etim es when
passing the newspaper stand under the El stairs near the cigar store, I
experience the vague inclination to gather up the whole display of cur­
rent stuff —to, see, perhaps, if by doing so I can really get at what is
happening in the world. Most of us com e to New York because of an
o b se ssio n to find out, I su p pose, —after trying all the transcendental
recipes . . . (all the world’s in your own back-yard, etc.) Well, I walk from
6th to 5th, and that’s an end to it.
6th is more chaos than ever —add to trucks, trolleys and the sm ash ­
ing, El pipes and tim bers and construction h uts, and then add steam -
sh o v e ls. B en ea th the w oo d en p lan k in g is a raw cavern, a Grand
Canyon, —a net work of more scaffolds, a few electric light bulbs. Out
of the enorm ous dark, negroes climb in clay-covered rubber boots.
There’s a nice new sky-scraper hotel at the other end of the block —
1 Fifth Ave, Seen from Macdougal, the effect of the proud thing is nice
and theatrical. Macdougal lo o k s like the centre street in a little French
town . . . the life of the b est skyscraper is only twenty years. J u st now
this our tower still has Xs on all the w indows, Xs like tick-tack-toe
marks. Nice custom . To keep a workman from plunging him self or
som eth in g e ls e , through a su p p o sed e m p tin ess. Som e contractors
make circles, but Xs are m uch nicer.
Aside from this, a few other things are happening in New York. There
is a fine m ovie called Su n rise, directed by Murnow, u sin g all the
m ovie c o n v e n tio n s w ith d e lic io u s s e r io u s n e s s . Then th ere is an
O’Keefe show . . .
Stieglitz says som ething about crem ating the pictures when he and
O’Keefe die . . . Mr. Gorham M unson is giving a course on Prose Style at
the New School For Social Research, and h is cla ss is publishing a
magazine called The Figure in the Carpet. Mr. Orage has also been
giving a course in writing . . . all literature brilliantly laid out with m ea­
suring rods, like the Eternal City in the Book of Revelations. As if it
had been finished long ago. As if the fertility of America m ight not jog­
gle or transform the values a little. Max Rheinhardt plays to papered
h ou ses; the Irish players fall flat. The Guild does the le sse r O’Neil

— 202 —
 G enevieve TAGGARD

su m p tu o u sly . R o b ert F ro st te lls u s th a t h e is w riting plays. Now th a t is

new s a n d good new s. T he New P lay w rig h t’s T h eatre h a s p ro d u ced four
plays, in a n ex p e rim e n ta l fa sh io n th a t d eserv es p ra ise . B ut th e ir plays
u n d o all th e ex cellen ce of th e p ro d u c tio n . D os P a s s o s h a s m ade th e
s e ts , an d th e y have b een th e s tro n g e s t e le m e n t in th e th e a tre . The
P layw rights ex cite m y in te r e s t u n til I se e w ith ea c h p ro d u c tio n th e ir
c o n v e n tio n a litie s a n d th e ir lim ita tio n s re ite ra ted . Mr B e rtran d R u ssell
h a s b e en le c tu rin g h e re o n th in g s lik e, W hy R u ssia h a s Failed an d th e
C o m p an io n ate M arriage. B u t if you w an t platform a r tis ts , D arrow is
m ore a m u sin g . He k n o w s h u m a n n a tu re , w h ereas Mr R u sse ll h a s j u s t
b een d iscov erin g it sin c e th e w ar, having devoted h im se lf before th a t
tim e to m a th e m a tic s a n d p h ilo so p h y . P eople k eep com ing to te a s h a k ­
ing a copy of T h e E n e m y , b u t a fte r th e y go you re a d y o u r own copy
again a n d d isco v er all over again th a t th e h a rd h ittin g Mr. Tory Lewis
b oils dow n sh o rtly to a very sm all s u b s ta n c e . H is a n ti-a rty a tte m p ts are
to be ap p lau d ed . B u t th e m an is sc a tte r-b ra in e d in th e extrem e, an d ill
inform ed (w hich w o n ’t do for an y o n e w ho m a k e s s u c h a p o in t of in ­
te llig e n c e ). A good C o m m u n is t c o u ld m a k e a m o n k e y of h im very
easily. T he s tra n g e th in g is th a t h e h u n g e rs for C o m m u n ist d o c trin e .
Only b eing th a t s ta tic th in g , an E n g lish m a n , h e c a n ’t b e a r th e labels.
A nd h e offers u s —th in k of it —a fte r all th e o n s la u g h ts o n th e shallow
m inded, th e e m o tio n a l m in d ed - sy m p a th y w ith th e C atholic revival,
an d th is recip e for in te rn a tio n a l re la tio n s: th e w hite ra c e s an d th e
black ra c e s s h o u ld be p o lite to o n e a n o th e r. L ike S a n d in o we say. Say
it w ith b u lle ts.
T h e re ’s a fine R u s s ia n In d u s tr ia l sh o w j u s t o p e n in g , a n d a m a r­
v e lo u s M exican sh o w a t th e A rt C e n te r. W hich b rin g s u s to L atin
A m erica. Diego Rivera w en t th ro u g h New York on h is way to R u ssia,
a n d for o ne day w as ru s h e d from W ey’s G allery to th e M etropolitan
M useum , to Mr P a c h ’s to th e Daily W o r k e r ... an d eventually, to a
d in n e r for T h eo d o re D reiser, a lso e n ro u te . W ith th is difference, Diego
w as going th ird , of c o u rs e , an d D re ise r w as going first. A lso, of c o u rse,
D re ise r d id n ’t k n o w w ho th is big guy in th e flan n el s h ir t w ith th e great
lau g h in g face lik e a lu s c io u s m u ral w as. B ut h e felt som ebody in th e
room . T he b lu e D re ise ria n eyes k e p t going dow n th e table to size up
th e new co m er. Well, th e two of th e m w en t off o n th e sam e boat, first
a n d th ird —very n ice, th a t w as, —a n d if you will, perfectly fitting.
T he Rivera draw ings have b een h a rd to see. Now a t la s t th e fam ous
m u ra ls th a t s ta n d on th e w alls of th e M inistery of E d u c a tio n in Mexico
City will be re p ro d u c e d in a b o o k th a t will be p u b lish e d n e x t fall by Har-
c o u rt B race, w ith, I am told, a very a c u te preface by E rn e stin e E vans.
T here is talk of a p ro d u c tio n of a b allet, e n title d H.P. by C arlos Chavez
for w hich Rivera h a s d o n e so m e d e lic io u s s k e tc h e s . . . tro p ical fru its,
A m erican M arines an d G erm anic m erm aid s, all in term in g led . Chavez
is th e m u sic a l s e n s a tio n of th e y ear. His m u sic h a s th e p erfect energy
a n d th e p e rfe c t c la rity o f a c o m p o s e r o f th e firs t im p o rta n c e . His

— 203 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

playing of h is re c en tly w ritte n P ian o S o n a ta a t th e first C opland =

S e ss io n s C o n cert of C o n tem p o rary M usic, w as w onderful an d bew il­
d erin g . T he la s t m o v e m e n t in a m ig h ty ja z z tem p o is a s to n is h in g .
B esid es H.P., Chavez h a s w ritten two b a lle ts on A stec th e m e s, an d
s h o rte r p ieces w hich are being speedily in clu d ed in c o n c e rt program s
h e re an d in P aris. A aron C opland, w riting in th e New R epublic says:
“It (his m usic) exem plifies th e com plete overthrow of n in e te e n th
c e n tu ry G erm anic id eals w hich ty ran ized over m u sic for m ore th a n a
h u n d re d y ears. It p ro p o u n d s no p ro b lem s, no m etap h y sic s. C havez’
m u sic is e x trao rd in arily h ealth y , it is clear an d clean so u n d in g , w ith­
o u t sh ad o w s o r so ftn e ss. H ere is a b so lu te m u sic if ever th e re w as any.”
P u t it th is way: 192V w as th e y e a r in w hich HIM by E.E. C um m ings
w as p u b lish e d , a n d 1928 will be th e y e a r in w hich it is p ro d u c e d .
People have n o t q u ite y et d isco v ered th is way of p u ttin g it, b u t le t u s
g et it s tra ig h t, in an ex trav ag an t m a n n e r of sp e a k in g . I w ould ra th e r see
Him p ro d u ced th a n any play I have ever read. T he only a c to rs I know
who have en o u g h fin e sse to do it are th e C h in ese in a sto c k com pany
o n H o u sto n stre e t. As lu c k will have it, C um m ings in h a b its a n o th e r
language; it is being p ro d u c e d by th e P rovincetow n in M arch.
T h a t’s a b o u t all th e in te lle c tu a l c u rre n ts . . . Oh, I beg y o u r pardon,
W itter B ynner h a s w ritte n a p arody o n th e P re s id e n t’s D aughter, in th e
m a n n e r of F ran k ie an d J o h n n y , beginning:
N annie an d W arren w ere lovers . . .
P.S. Tim e p a s se s. T he X’s have b e e n w ash ed off 1 Fifth Ave. D reiser
cam e ho m e from R u ssia, an d w rote an ex cellen t s e rie s of a rtic le s ab o u t
h is trip . (P lease W yndam L ew is, d o n ’t sa y th a t b e c a u s e I m e n tio n
D reise r a n d R u ssia, a n d T ra n sitio n p rin ts th is le tte r th a t th e p lo t you
sup er-d isco v ered is su p e r-th ic k e n in g .) A nd w h at is even m ore in te re s t­
ing, H im h a s b een p ro d u ced , a n d Mr W olcott h a s m ade a n in n y of him ­
self, along w ith a few o th e r g en tlem en . T he P rovincetow n h a s g o tten
o u t a little p am p h let, p rin te d by th a t p rin ter-an g el, Mr Sam Ja c o b s,
w hich I e n c lo se to th e e d ito rs of T ra n sitio n . Did you ever ru n a c ro ss
th e p re s s n o tic e s o n th e first Ib sen plays w hich Shaw re p rin te d in h is
Q u in te sse n c e ? How like, how like. The p ro d u ctio n w as excellent, I
th o u g h t. T h e girl w ho p lay ed Me h a d th e sim p le gravity, th e slow
ch ild ish feeling of th e lin e s. J o h n s to n e , w ho played th e title-role w as
very bad a t it, an d sin c e th e pace an d to n e of th e C um m ings lin es
crea te th e m ood of th e play, I th in k h is la c k s h ad m ore to do w ith th e
critical c o ld n e ss th a n an y o n e h a s s u sp e c te d . As a w hole H im plays
superbly; th e a u th o r w as q u ite rig h t in th in k in g it co u ld play o n B road­
way. It co u ld —given a few ch a n g e s in B roadw ay, p erh ap s. S tra n g e
In terlu d e, (som e o ne h a s called it Interlew d), an d H im are th e only re ­
c e n t plays w hich have th e fa sc in a tio n of w riting a b o u t th e m odern
h e a rt an d m ind. O’Neil after everything is sa id an d done, h a s w ritten
stu p id ly an d am b itio u sly . C um m ings, in every se g m e n t of h is play h a s
th e to n e, th e s tru c tu re , th e an g les a n d e m p h a sis th a t m ake o u r tim e.
[SUMMER 1928]

— 204 —
 Yves TANGUY

I v o n rliin$*uv
L a n d sc a p e
Among the Surrealiste group, Yves Tanguy has achieved distinction within
the pa st J ew months. He is 27 years old, and French. A year and a h a lf ago
he began to paint, without instruction. . . . im ay 19271

[SEPTEMBER 1927]

— 205 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

ROSAltt SONGS
b y G e o r g Tk*akl

___ 1. TO THE NURSE

W h e r e v e r y o u g o t h e r e is a u t u m n a n d e v e n in g .

Blue deer th a t steps b en eath th e trees,

Lonely pool a t eventide.

Softly so u n d s the flight of th e birds.

The sad n ess of your brows.
And your little smile.

God h as curved y our eyelids.

S tars seek a t n ight, o Child of Holy Friday,
The arch of your brow.

—^ 2. N ea r n ess of death

THE EVENING WALKING INTO THE DARK VILLAGES OF CHILDHOOD,

The pool u n d e r the willow trees
Fills w ith pestilential sig h s of sad n ess.

O th e forest th a t softly lowers its brow n eyes,

While o u t of the bony h a n d s of th e lonely m an
S ink s the purple of h is ecstatic days.

O the n e a rn e ss of death. Let u s pray.

In th is n ig h t there will be unloosed on languid cu sh io n s
Yellow w ith incense the slender lim bs of lovers.

3 . A m en

^ D e c o m p o s it io n g l id e s t h r o u g h t h e w o r m -e a t e n r o o m ;
Shadow s on yellow wall-paper; in d ark m irrors there vaults
The ivoiy sad n ess ot o u r h an d s.
Brown pearls trickle th ro u g h the dead fingers,
in the silence
An angel’s blue poppy-eyes are opened.

Blue is also the evening;

The h o u r of ou r dying, Azrael’s shadow ,
T hat d ark en s a little brow n garden.
(Translatedfrom the German by EUGENE JOLAS.)

[APRIL 1927)

— 206 —
 T rista n TZARA

TOTO VACiA
b y Ti'iKisin T z a r a

p ou k a tea h a ere
k a ta n g i te k iv i kaouaea
kivi hom a it te to u
k aou aea
ka ta n g i te m oho kh ia v h itik ia
m oho kaouaea
takou tak ap ou
ka ta n g i te tik e k aouea
ka ta n g i te tik e h ih i e
h ah a e
tik e p ip i e
ta ta e
he p ok o anahe a p itia
to tik o k o tik o k o ha
ko te here
heare i te h ara ha
tik o k c ko te here
h a ko te tim a ta
ko te ta o u ra te ran gi e*ko te tik o pohue
k aou aea e-k o te attan ga a m ata
e-te a ita n g a a te h oe-m anuko
m e kave k ivh ea III.
k aou aea
ko aou k o aou
h i t a ou e
a-ko te tak e
m ake to te h anga
ta k e no to u
h i t a ou e
tou rou k i tour oak?
e h aou
p an ek e p an ek e
to ia
o io i te to k i
k aouaea
to ia ake te ta k e
takitaknna
ta k e no to u
ia
h e tik aok ao
II. h e tarah o
k o ia rim ou h a ere he pararera
k aou aea ke ke ke ke
to ta r a h a ere he parera
kaouaea ke ke ke ke

(JUNE 1030)

— 2 07 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

NAZEL-TOF
b y l . f l . ^ e i« M ‘n b c ‘r g

TA HE SMALL TOWN IS ROARING, FOR THE RABBI IS SINKING RAPIDLY. AND FROM THE
first it is evident th at the doors of heaven are closing.
H eartrending cries, mingled, are carried by the air. In the doorways of
stores, salesw om en with pale faces stand weeping, and tu rn quiet and in­
tense glances to th e end of the street, over there. Chave Gittel, who sells
pots and pans, ru n s excitedly along, h er face flushed. She m eets another
woman, says som ething avidly, waves h er hands.
And Hirshl, th e teacher, hurries, with his thin stringy neck pulled out,
hands in his back pocket, sharp elbows sticking out like the wings of a
goose ab o u t to fly. A sm all schoolboy, w ith tiny feet and red flaming
cheeks, ru n s after him.
“To the bes-ham idrach! To the bes-ham idrach!”
The bes-ham idrach is overcrowded. Teachers and pupils from all the
schools have been poured together into one m ass.
A Jew with a red sa sh tied around him stan d s before the sh rine with o ut­
stretch ed hands, praying. In a whining voice he says the Tfila Lem osha,
line after line, and the crowd repeats it so heartily and with such sorrow
and disturbance th a t the children stand with open m ouths and staring
eyes . . . There near the wall, a m an hides his face in the psalm book with a
b itter sigh, raises his eyes to the ceiling, closes them again, and rem ains
so, m otionless and with his neck outstretched, like Isaac before the offer­
ing. They all are praying, repeating prayers, and the rabbi’s nam e has been
applied in p rayers over and over again, h is in itials beginning the se n ­
tences. The crowd prays, on and on.
*
* *

In the rabbi’s yard they tram ple one another. Plain people, cobblers,
tailors, - stand with fixed gaze. Young chasidim walk around in circles,
th eir dangling sash e s tripping th eir feet, scarcely speaking to one another.
The te a c h e rs and pup ils re tu rn from the b es-ham idrach. The teach ers
stand in a separate group, looking at each other, chatting quietly among
them selves. School children, playful, simple youngsters, climb the fence
around the rabbi’s garden. They crawl over the ice-house roof and stretch
out lengthw ise and crossw ise upon it. All th eir faces are turned toward the
rabbi’s windows. The sexton and m em bers of the household run in and

— 208 —
 I. M. VEISSENBERG

out, confused. Young m en get u n d er th e ir feet. When one of them is asked

w hat is new, he extends his hands, sighs and h u rries away. Under the
piazza roof, a large crowd of women stand, pushed into the corner, m aking
faces and holding th eir aprons ready to cry.
Suddenly from th e h o u se com es a h u stle and bustle. The crowd moves.
The doctor tells them to pray to the Lord! Som eone sh o u ts from the win­
dow. The crowd rem ain s stupified. and th e women get loose, cutting
through the m en who give way for them . The women run with a yell into the
street. There more women jo in them . On th e way to the m arket place, the
women are divided into two groups, one running to the synagogue, the
oth er to the cem etery.
In the m arketplace the m en tu rn around like lo st silen t sheep until a
worse bulletin is brought. The crowd rem ains frozen and trem bling lips
whisper:
B lessed Be Thy judgem ent!
B lessed Be Thy judgem ent!
*
* *

Now the crowd is left with nothing, w ithout hope, w ithout consolation.
J u s t one, —to express sorrow for the rabbi’s wife and o rphans, and to count
them . The gathering moved to one side, abandoned itself to God’s leading
and to his ju d g em en t they took for love.
The sexton is already running to the p o st office with long w ritten tele­
gram s. The windows of the room in which th e rabbi was lying flame up red­
dishly and a th in cold rain drops from th e leaden sky, drops upon the body
as the parts of the body curl up and sh rin k . Women p u t up th eir collars and
huddle th eir heads into th e ir shou ld ers. T eachers huddle into the large red
shaw ls around th e ir n ecks, and th eir faces grow darker, bluer and more
su n k en . Lips and eyes trem ble.
Then at night chasidim begin to drive in from th e surrounding sm all
tow ns and tow ard m orning th ere is a com m otion, the stre ets get no rest
from cabs and carriages. At d in n er tim e all th e sto res are closed and the
whole crowd gathers in the rabbi’s yard.
A cry is heard at th e door. Open! Open! The coffin appears and the whole
crowd moves.
They go into th e bes-ham idrach to pray for th e dead. It becom es crowded.
No room for a pin. They stan d , heads over heads. Men and women together,
and over the tables and altar, everywhere, it is full and black. The burning
light of the hanging chandeliers throw s o u t heat. All the faces grow red, are
covered with sw eat, and th e air is suffocating, h o t and muggy. The coffin is
p u t b efo re th e s h r in e , a n d th e c h a s id im c a tc h o n e a n o th e r by th e
shoulders, th e ir eyes reaching o u t of th eir heads. They hang in the air, one
on top of the other, scram bled together. Then it is quiet, and everybody’s
eyes are concen trated on the center. Soon a th in sm all voice is heard, “Too
great a penance you take, Lord, for o u r sins! You tore away our king of the
torah and, m ore th an th at, you took away the tongs w ithout which we can
do nothing . . . ”

— 209 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

And again it becom es quiet amid the women and girls, with kerchiefs on
their heads covering half th eir eyes.
The coffin is moved, and the crowd begins to pack through the doors and
the windows pushed open.
The street is already blocked. A chain of chasidim occupies one side and
the crowd accom panying the coffin stretch es like a long belt with th o u ­
sands of faces. All th e way, prayers are said, and the son and heir follows at
the head, resting his forehead on the coffin, his face hidden.
In the cem etery, am ong the trees, the grave is already prepared and the
final coffin is ready. During th e burial they p u t the rabbi into the open
grave and salute him with a m azel-tof and the whole crowd tu rn s toward
the son. “Mazel-tof, rabbi! Mazel-tof!”
*
* *

The grave is covered. The new rabbi says a prayer for the dead.
And a consolation, a new hope begins to blossom . Faces lighten again
and in the eyes a new light begins to dawn. Everyone gathers around the
rabbi, to see how godliness has reposed upon his pale face.
In the cem etery it is quiet. The trees shake softly, as if in prayer.

T ra n sla ted fro m the Yiddish, and adapted, by SOFIA HIMMEL.

[JANUARY 1928]

HAS A PUNCH [1927]

“I m u s t ad m it th a t th is sam p le leaves m e w obbling.”

Brentano’s Book Chat.

— 210 —
Edw ard WESTON

£ ccu
£
Oj
B
k»
IS k

[JUNE 1930]

— 211 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

I i i

|]<hvsir<l W o slo n
“Pepper"
Edward Weston is an American photographer
living in Carmel, Cal.

UUNE 1930]

— 212 —
 W illiam C arlos WILLIAMS

IMPROVISATIONS
b y Willisim C a r l o s W i l l i a m s

THAT POEM JAY JAY

T . H A T D A Y T H A T T H E J A Y S P A S S E D U S IN A T A X I A T T H E E T O I L E A N D T H E Y
w aved th eir h a n d s and sm ile d and h e b lu sh e d c rim so n w e to o k
d in n e r a t S e e v e e s or w h e n fir st E, ap p ea red after fiftee n y ea rs
a b se n c e and I w ish e d for a civ ilized w orld it w as lik e th e day B ill
B an s su lk e d , tw ice h e su lk e d , o n c e at C hateau Thierry n o t w h en
th e sm art y o u n g A m erican r u sh e d up to u s at th e table in th e h o te l
and w an ted to tak e u s for a to u r o f th e b attlefield for ten d ollars b u t
b e c a u se S u s ie w as lik e s h e g e ts w h en s h e w a n ts to sin g b u t s h e
w a sn ’t th a t w ay th a t tim e b u t it w as b e c a u s e o f th e brandy B ill had
h e is n ’t a b it French h e is an A m erican s o h e d id n ’t roar or a n yth in g
lik e w h en w e w ere b rin gin g th e m u stard b ack from D ijon w ay up on
th e se v e n th floor rue V ichy h er m o th er w as o n th e fire e sc a p e at
se v e n a. m . w h en th e taxi p u lled up and all th e n eig h b o rs stu c k
th eir h ea d s o u t o f th e w in d o w s and s h e had o n a bright red even in g
wrap th e old driver, h e w as old , and h e in s is te d o n talk in g and s h e
w as A m erican s o s h e sto p p e d and lis te n e d h e sa id a h c ’e s t b e a u
V am our, w h en I w as y o u n g h e sa id I to o ca m e h o m e w ith th e su n
but if h e had k n o w n h e w ou ld n o t have b e e n s o fatherly b e c a u se
sim p le k in d n e s s is lo s t o n A m erica n s w h o — all over P aris dif­
feren tly from th e P a r isia n s b u t s h e w as able to lis te n b e c a u se sh e
k n o w s w h at a laboratory P aris is for d is s o c ia tio n s o n e is sp lit and
th e p articles fly to Iceland and B u e n o s A yres if y o u o n ly KNEW
w hat th a t d o e s to m e fev erish ly at a turn o f h is h ea d low is h igh - is
to lea n from a cry sta l ste m at c h e s s sla p j e s u s o n th e back and
PROVE w hy Man Ray ca n n ever tak e off p h o to , NEVER, th erefore
p h otograp h y is an art b u t c o u ld YOU sta n d o n a table drunk and
o n e by o n e ta k e off y o u r s to c k in g s at b ala n ce and le t you r tan n ed
le g s flam e by th e ch a m p a g n e darkly s o ft and low by p n eu m atiq u e
all th e su rfa ce o f th e cath ed ral a n g e ls sp lit off by th e flam es o f war
s o th a t d ev ils and a n g e ls are in d istin g u is h a b le b u t sla p him rudely
on th e b ack and h is d e lic a c y is at o n c e apparent after all, J a k e,

— 213 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

aren ’t w e all a little bit th a t way so ft and low , M engelberg h old in g

th e o rch estra in h is arm s lik e L in coln did th e baby and rocking
th em w h ile th ey p u k e and screa m , so ft and low , a great m oth er sh e
said bu t we have to carry ou r m en and fool th em , n u r se th em take
th em tak e th em b etw een our b rea sts and sle e p away th e day on a
new sp ap er o n th e g ra ss and th a t is w hy G ertrudes P ic a s s o s , th e
blue and grey period lo o k s o w ell b e c a u se th e y have s u c h narrow
fram es and th ey are s o c lo s e to g eth er in a row that it lo o k s lik e th e
bottom o f a great d eco ra tio n th a t w ou ld be pretty if th e top did n o t
exten d th rou gh th e c e ilin g and is s o lo s t in th e c lo u d s Van der B ile
trem b lin g-sim p ly-togeth er th e n ew p la c e s to u ch and m ake it w hat
s h e is, and do y o u m ean to sa y th e s e are all lo s t w om en , in a row
n ak ed before him at s o m u ch a p iece P aris is n o t lik e th at now b u t
th e sca lp is y ello w j u s t the w ay s h e rubbed th e lo tio n on it.

WELLROUNDEDTHIGHS
It is th e pad th a t p r o te c ts th e a d o le sc e n c e , in su la tin g it a g a in st
th e injury o f k n o w led g e and s o perm ittin g th e stren g th for k n o w ­
led ge to grow, rather th an th e q u ite bare wire on w h ich th e colored
sw a llo w s sa t, th e very sm a ll egg buried in th e th ick roaring wom b
th at rid es th e e le p h a n t and tu rn s th ree so m e r sa u lts a s if J o c k e y
J o e S lo a n did a sn a p p y jig a ct b etw een w h a t’s h is nam e, th e fellow
th at to o k N ijin sk y ’s p la ce, did th at elb ow trick SALADE and the
scrap ed off even in g in th e B o is p iece. P oor N ijin sk y w ith a w ife and
D iaglieff, o n e driving him to reh ea rsa ls and th e o th er dragging him
h om e and b oth in love and n o e n d to it w ith th e drill drill drill. He
tried to m anage h im s e lf b u t th e E n g lish a s s d id n ’t g et him h is
b o o ts o n tim e s o h e had to go in sa n e d ia m etrically o p p o site a s if
the E dinb orou gh R eview s h o u ld sa y so m e th in g u n certain it’s the
th u n d e r th a t h o ld s th e lig h tn in g a s m u ch a s to say: w h en th e
m a c h in e s c r a p e s a n d s c r e a m s ca rry in g th e a d v e r tis e m e n ts o f
la d ies h o s e around th e curve, th ere is a m a ch in e im p lied th at a c c i­
d en tly carries th e train and its o c c u p a n ts along. W ithout the roar
to in su la te th e p etty pim p le o f th eir c o m p r eh en sio n there w ould
n o t be a ground in w h ich th e MASS co u ld a ccu m u la te, THUS c o n ­
v ersely th e E sse n tia lity o f th e b latant and p erfectly stu p id e x c r e s­
c e n c e lik e th e N ew Y ork J o u r n a l is m e c h a n ic a lly s o u n d an d
m orally effective - and th e w h o le m a ss is k n it, gen eratin g th e gam e
of football - w ith its o rgan ized c h e e r s. B aseb all is so m e th in g e lse
th e ball bein g harder, sm a ller, different in co lo r and yo u h it it w ith
a stic k , th at is a lth o u g h Babe Ruth m ay sh in e for a s e a s o n there
w ill alw ays be a stro n g party o p p o sed to him as a factor detrim ental
to th e sp irit o f th e gam e w h ich is sile n t, sa tu rn in e, c lo s e to the
p rin cip les o f p h y sic s and lyric poetry.

— 214 —
 W illiam C arlos WILLIAMS

THE DEAD GROW

T he m o s t strik in g a n a c h r o n ism in N.Y. is o f c o u r se th e M etropol­

itan M useum o f art w ith a sla b by clever P aul to able J o h n at the
right o f th e e n tra n ce, badly w orded, w here S ton eb rid ge o f Hartford
put a w eig h t in th e b a la n ce w h en h e w as s ic k o f th e ton o f stu ff h e
had lifted and th e w o r st is th a t it s p ills over o n th e tall-b u ild in gs
b u t it d o e s n ’t do it e n o u g h , lik e th e rotten S to c k E xch an ge lik e a
dirty face w ith o u t P allas A th e n a s in it and th e T elep h o n e b u ild in g
and th at crappy stu ff - b u t th e b ro n ze ta b le ts by M anny a ren ’t so
bad b u t n o b o d y ever s e e s th em th a n k g o o d n e s s it w ould clip o n e
ball if th e y did and th a t’s w hat I m ean, th ere i s n ’t a m ore p o ten t
a n a ch ro n ism in th e city th an th e m u se u m - it is right b e c a u se it’s
deadly, th e d etail o f th e o rn a m en ts and p la tes and v a se s even o n e
or tw o p ic tu r e s, th e B u rm ese jew elry, th e y ’re th e e s s e n c e o f th e
q u ie tn e s s , it’s th a t th a t fork s th e n o is e o u t o f its h o le b u t if it
w eren ’t for th e roar th ere w o u ld n ’t be an y m u se u m b e c a u se the
price o f ex ch a n g e d e p e n d s n o t s o m u ch on th e sp iritu a l v a lu es b u t
on th e fat w h ich h a s j u s t th is to do w ith art th a t it c o lle c ts every­
th in g th a t is c a s t o ff by th e dead and p u ts it o n lik e th e p e s c h e c a n i,
y o u k n ow , T h en ew rich , th e fellow w h o j u s t h a s w ritten a n ovel,
w ith o u t k n o w in g th a t L eonardo in v en ted th e to ile t-se a t - y o u s e e
th e p o e t’s dau gh ter all n ic e and ripe, a s Ken s a y s , is n o is y around
th e k n e e s , th a t’s w h a t g iv es h er th e p ull, K iki in sp ite o f h er n o ise
is m ade o f q u ie tn e s s b u t th e roar is full o f pulp in to w h ich n erves
and s in e w s grow a th is and th a t anti-roar, is, valuable a s it is to
so m e th in g or o th er lik e th e h isto r y o f Ireland or U ly s s e s , a c o m ­
p en d iu m , very d a n g ero u s to grow th. It is q u ite stark in its g e n tle ­
n e s s , it w a n ts to — n e e d s to have a k in d o f starvation on w h ich to
thrive and s o m ak e th e k in d o f flabby sh a n k d e v o te e s and co n d o m s
th a t J o h n en jo y ed w h en h e w as tired - it is a m o n u m en t to J o h n ’s
fatigue w h en h e felt th e lead lo o s e in h is p en cil, a s Pop u se d to say,
S o it’s d a n g ero u s and th a t’s w h y we have p ro h ib ition , w e d o n ’t
n eed a lc o h o l, WE DON’T NEED ALCOHOL, w e have all th e n o ise we
w ant b u t even poverty can m ak e n o ise e n o u g h to be heard in th o se
p la c e s I’d lik e to s e e a n y o n e h e heard b e c a u se h e w as p oor here —
here w e are NOT ALONE, w e ’re e n c lo s e d TOGETHER.
We d o n ’t k n o w th e r e is n o th in g b e c a u s e th e e s s e n t ia l n o is e
w o n ’t le t u s hear it w h isp ered s o w e d o n ’t n e e d to play c h e s s but
th ere w here th e oil is bu rn t o u t th e e m p tin e s s is b ein g felt by the
m u sc le —s o w e grow and th e y atrophy: th ey tried to m ake a n o ise
w ith th e war bu t it w as a very s illy d ec e p tio n , all we had to do w as to
k n ow th e y c o u ld n ’t m ake a n o is e and there it w as.

[SUMMER 1928]

— 215 —
 IN tra n sitio n

P O E M

by LouiN Zukof^ky

O CK TA ILS w h en p a s s e d t u r n s t ile s ,
a n d s ig n s o f h a v in g d r o p p e d
“a d s 9’
c o in s
fla s h in g , t h e y ’v e s p r in t e d u p
lig h t's w a te r fa lls ,
w h ere o n t h e a ir (ele v a te 1)
B acchae w a v es fla s h — a n d o u t —
a m o n g e le c tr ic lig h t s
le a p
w ill sw arm t h e c r o w d s s ig n a lin g — lig h t s b elo w
s tr e a m e r s o f t h e lig h te d

sk yscrap ers

n o r tr ip p in g
o v er u n d e r b r u sh

b u t u pon p avem en t

a n d n o t w ith th y r s u s
s h a ll th e y p r ic k

th e b o d y o f th e ir lo v e s
b u t w a is t t o w a is t

la u g h o u t in g yre —
a n n o u n c e d th e n u p o n s t a i r s ,

n o t u p o n h ills ,
w ill b e t h e ir flig h t

[FEBRUARY 1929]

— 216 —
 WHY DO AMERICANS LIVE IN EUROPE?

WHY DO AMERICANS
LIVE IN EUROPE?
[Fall 1 9 2 8 ]

Transition h a s a s k e d a n u m b e r o f A m erica n s living in E urope to

w rite b rief stories o f th e m se lv e s — their autobio graphies o f the
m in d , se lf-e x a m in a tio n s, c o n fe ssio n s, conceived fr o m the s ta n d ­
p o in t o f d era cin a tio n .
T h e fo llo w in g q u estio n s w ere a sk e d :
1. — W hy do yo u prefer to live o u tsid e A m erica?
2. — How do yo u e n v isa g e th e sp iritu a l fu tu r e o f A m erica in the
fa c e o f a d y in g E urope a n d in th e f a c e o f a R u ssia th a t is adopting
th e A m erica n econom ic vision?
3. — W h a t is yo u r fe e lin g a b o u t th e revolutionary spirit o f your
a g e , a s e x p r e s s e d , f o r in s ta n c e , in s u c h m o v e m e n ts a s c o m ­
m u n ism , su rrea lism , a n a rc h ism ?
4. — W h a t p a rticu la r vision do yo u h a v e o f y o u rse lf in relation to
tw e n tie th cen tu ry reality?
 IN tr a n sitio n

G ertrude ST E M

TA hE UNITED STATES IS JUST NOW THE OLDEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD, THERE
always is an oldest country and she is it, it is she who is the m other of the
tw entieth century civilisation. She began to feel h erself as it ju s t sifter the
Civil War. And so it is a country the right age to have been born in and the
wrong age to live in.
She is the m other of m odern civilisation and one wants to have been
born in the country th a t has attained and live in the countries th at are
attaining or going to be attaining. This is perfectly natural if you only look
at facts as they are. America is now early Victorian very early Victorian, she
is a rich and well nourished hom e b u t not a place to work. Your paren t’s
hom e is never a place to work it is a nice place to be brought up in. Later on
there will be place enough to get away from hom e in the United States, it is
beginning, th en there will be creators who live at home. A country this the
o ld e st and th e re fo re th e m o st im p o rta n t co u n try in th e w orld qu ite
naturally produces the creators, and so naturally it is I an American who
was and is thinking in writing was born in America and lives in Paris. This
has been and probably will be the history of th e world. That it is always
going to be like th at m akes the m onotony and variety of life th at and th at
we are after all all of us ourselves.

H ilaire HILER

ww V HEN ALBRECHT DURER WAS ASKED BY LETTER WHY HE REMAINED SO LONG IN

Venice he replied "B ecause here I am considered a gentlem an; at hom e a
loafer” . The accu m u latio n of th e com bined th o u g h t waves of m illions
apathetic or hostile towards any form of creative graphic or plastic ex­
p ression showing the slig h test originality, naturally affects the m ental life
of a creative a rtist living in su ch an atm osphere.
In America there are no facilities for the enjoym ent of leisure or appara­
tu se s for reflection.
Considerable tim e m u st be wasted in self justification both verbally and
introspectively and many questio n s settled which are otherw heres taken
for granted.
The spiritual future of America appears too rem ote to allow of predic­
tions of any value at the p resen t m om ent.
My feeling about the revolutionary spirit of my age is pessim istic in the
extreme.
I feel th at a painter occupies a place of real unim portance in an age such
as ours. So unim portant is the whole field of visual aesthetics th at it is left
as unw orthy of the attention of any first rate m inds as a refuge for m orons,
unbalanced neurotics, and dull nonentities.

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 WHY DO AMERICANS LIVE IN EUROPE?

R obert MeALMON

N RESPONSE TO YOUR QUESTIONNAIRE: IN GENERAL YOU ASSUME MUCH TO BE

true th a t is yet in th e controversial stage; yet to be proved by history. We,
deracinated ones, if we are deracinated, may not all have come to Europe
impelled by som e motive of th e h eart and mind. I came, intending to return,
or to travel m uch. I felt in America th a t E urope was finished, decayed, war-
and time-worn out. There it seem ed th a t in Europe the sen se of futility
would be too enveloping. However there is th e ro t of ripe fruit, and there is
the blight and decay of green fruit.
1 .1 prefer Europe, if you m ean France, to America because there is less
interference with private life here. There is interference, b u t to a foreigner,
there is a fanciful freedom and grace of life n o t obtainable elsew here. From
various Frenchm en I gather th a t th ese statem en ts do n o t apply to French
citizens in a strong sen se. It may be well to live in foreign countries; and to
be definitely “deracinated.” In th a t case the deficiencies of the land which
accidentally gave u s birth need d isturb u s no m ore th an the legal, social,
and hum an, infringm ents on o u r ‘rig h ts’ b other us elsew here. If by Europe
you m ean England, Italy, or Germany, I th in k Am erica an exciting, stim ­
ulating, im aginative, co u n try w ith th e fresh im agination of y outh and
ignorance.
2. Is E urope dying, and is R u ssia adopting th e A m erican econom ic
vision? R ussia is a big and raw and primitive country with a m ixture of
m any races. Before the war was the world accepting the German state-
controlled standard of life? It’s a quick judgm ent to m ake on R ussia. And if
Europe is dying, h er various co u n tries seem obstinately to cling to their
convictions and rights. There seem s not to be the breath of fatalism , sh a t­
tered morale, or acquiescence, th a t goes with approaching death. By the
few hundred years tim e th a t Europe is dead what may n ot have happened
in America?
As to A m erica's spiritual future, th a t is too involved a question to dis­
cu ss, as religion, sentim entality, idealism , are so generally confused with
an understan d in g of the word spiritual. Sensually A m ericans appear se n ti­
m ental ra th e r th an aware, and childishly incapable of facing facts th at
France has faced for generations. England in this asp ect may be decayed,
as English people are aware, b u t ‘d eco ro u s’ to an extent th a t is unhealthy,
publicly, whatever they are privately. As far as A m erica’s or E urope’s future
then, I visualize it as for th e individual who does not look to a m ass move­
m ent w hich lets him flow in its c u rre n t on to victory. Possibly w riters and
artists in America will stop scolding ab o u t the state of society in th eir own
country, once enough have becom e deracinated so th a t it is realized th at
all countries have th eir defects. Then art may ensue.
3 . 1 don’t feel th a t my age h as a revolutionary spirit, artistically, or politi­
cally. The D eclaration of Independence, a real revolution, took place som e­
tim e back. Im pressionism , futurism , cubism , and ab strac t art-ism s, were
all pre-war concepts, and there does not appear on the horizon any new

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 IN tr a n sitio n

originative forces. B eneath the coerced acceptance of the m achine age I

sen se fear and caution, reaction, and sentim entality which is worse than
decay. Com munism is the natural, tem porary outcom e of the dem ocratic
concept, and reaction against it may at any tim e force an aristocrat-politi­
cal theory, and th a t won’t be new or revolutionary. Surrealism may be like
Dada, nothing. At least the w orks of various su r-realists are unlike enough
to furnish no clue, and Isadore D ucasse and Rimbaud, preceded sur-real-
ism, utilized m etaphysics, ab stractions, dark n ess and m adness and death,
with perhaps greater force intellectually and em otionally, leaving aside the
hysteria and com m otion. A narchism is tem peram ental and our generation
did not invent the tem peram ent. On the oth er hand our generation seem s
cowed and ready to conform, to subm it or to run away. What it is they are
conforming none of them , th at is, us, know; not even the sixty year old
peace conference gatherers.
4. My vision of m yself in relation to 20th century reality is one of rem ain­
ing myself, or hoping to. If th a t is im possible, what bad luck. By the time
M enckens, P ounds, E nem ies, and S ur-realists give their m essages on what
is w rong an d w hat s h o u ld be d one, T ra n sitio n com es along w ith a
questionnaire. In any case, answ ers are contradictory, chaotic, and in­
effectual w ith th e wall of lo st so u ls seeking a platform or expressing
personal bias and frustration. I w ouldn’t dare m ount one of the platforms
in a rocky sea. Bad as it may be I’ll do my own swimming. As to cosm ic re­
lationship, is there no God and is n ’t war hell, and there is the peace pact.
May you, however, have answ ers from beings with more interpretive zeal.

G eorge ANTHEIL

w ■ HEN I RECEIVED YOUR LETTER ADDRESSED TO EXILES, I WAS ASTONISHED TO

think th a t I was probably an exile, b u t it is undoubtedly true. The time flies
to advantage in Europe, w hereas m uch of it is w asted in America explain­
ing battles th a t have been won years ago. My Polish origin m eans th a t I love
the ground upon which I was born, New Jersey, with a love th a t it is diffi­
cult to explain, or understand.
N evertheless m usically it is absolutely im possible to live in America.
I am a m usician, a com poser, and th is type of artist needs vast organiza­
tions su ch as opera com panies and sym phony o rchestras to write for to
produce his works. It is not as sim ple or as inexpensive as printing a book,
for example.
A young com poser has absolutely no future in America, because, even if
he attain s the very peak of em inence, he cannot hope to m ake a livelihood,
w hereas in Europe he stan d s a chance of making anywhere from a decent
three livelihood (after the early years of struggle) to even the accum ulation
of a fortune. This is because of the hundred first class operas in Europe
which give perform ances every night in the season, a liberal am ount of
them being fairly m odern. B ut America has only two first class operas, and
it is seldom indeed th a t they give a really m odern opera.

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 WHY DO AMERICANS LIVE IN EUROPE?

Moreover a young m an casts h is lot with th a t which is ascending, not

decending. Europe is upon the ascent. Since the war forty new operas have
appeared in Germany alone, while in th e United States no new first class
opera com panies have appeared. Moreover instead of the three sym phony
o rch estras th a t New York City had seven years ago, it now only has one.
C ontrast th is with the four sym phony o rch estras th a t Paris boasts. Con­
sider also the lavishness with which vast su m s of m oney are throw n to old
virtuosi; th e absolute refusal to spend a penny upon any com poser who
can be called a com poser, or who is even rem otely recognized in other
countries.
I have every hope th a t th is condition in America will change, b ut I do not
see how they can build two h undred operas overnight, or train the public to
hear them , and as th is will take som e little time, I prefer to stay in Europe
in the m eantim e, and learn how to write operas by actually hearing my own
sym phonies and operas for existing organizations. I tru s t th a t th is will be
no spot on my so far sta in le ss A m ericanism for th e New-York: 1928 group,
b u t sim ply a very practical econom ic standpoint.
I th ink th a t answ ers your first, second, and fourth question. As to num ­
ber three . . . I am em phatically for w hat I have seen of the surrealistic
painters and w riters. E ternal revolution, and eternal change . . . som e day I
may even tu rn traito r to th ese . . . b u t th a t day has n o t yet come, and those
who again tu rn to say th a t youthful Paris is wrong, will again live to see the
day w hen they will rue th eir words. The old fools never learn.

Kay BOYLE

wW WRITING FOR AN AUDIENCE IT IS NECESSARY TO DECIDE WHETHER OR NOT

explanations are necessary. They are n o t necessary. Neither hum an, in­
tellectual, m etaphysical or scientific. Explanations m urder like a knife the
perception. E xplanations are th e lie m aking it possible to accept the truth.
If I, let u s say, am seeking to live an absolute revolt against superiorities
which even th e m ost re stle ss abuse b u t do n o t question, a dissection of my
peculiar ho n o r is beside th e point. Explanations are invented as the apol­
ogy for the action; invariably a collection of words as im portant as a lace
h andkerchief in a slaughter-house.
Any froth th a t blew around th e Winged Victory, Greek contem poraneous
froth explaining, can n o t p u t a head on the woman today. It was an act and
not an explanation which removed the head, and to th a t the blood re­
sponds, perm itting no outraging of it, while the explanation says no more
than this: my own se n se s, experiences, appetites, my contem poraries have
confused me let me explain m yself.
For this I have tu rn ed Indian, in an attem pt to catch the sound of my
own kind. B ut the hoofs galloped in an o th er direction. For this I turned
A merican to u n d erstan d , b u t there were no A m ericans speaking for them ­
selves. As a class they speak for a situation. Beginning with the com posite

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 IN tr a n sitio n

figure of th e A m erican in te lle c tu a l e x p re sse d for th e m om ent in Mr.

Matthew Jo sep h so n , and ending with the Unknown Soldier, each citizen
functions with pride in the American conspiracy against the individual.
Do you object to a white bath every morning before breakfast? No, I like a
white bath every m orning before breakfast. But I say th a t it is a white bath
every morning before breakfast and it is nothing more than one way of get­
ting clean water into a receptacle w ithout spilling a drop. T hanks to the
efficacy of plumbing. But get into it with a literature in your head and get
out of it clean to write the literature. To me there is in America no con­
viction which q uestions the value of inventions th at p rotect the flesh from
everything except the im portance of being cared for.
The m echanics of America have afforded its intellectuals the opportunity
to find words for what som ebody else did. They preach, b ut they do not pre­
dict, for it has already historically taken place. They invent a lyrical ex­
planation for form, and form h as none w hatsoever m ystic-outline following
necessarily the stru ctu re of action and not of evasion.
(I do not speak here of tho se a rtists who have subjected invention and
hence given it an o th er value. Steiglitz, Antheil, Sheeler, Man Ray, would, as
individuals, have brought im portance to any m atter.)
In France this identical leeching upon a situ ation exists in the Surreal-
istes. They, too, depend upon bew ilderm ent and ignorance in the m inds of
their audience for th eir su ccess. They are livelier than the American Com­
posites and they have an h onor for they leech upon a situation created by
other artists —possibly the Academie Frangaise —b u t at least by m en who
make u se of the sam e medium. The A mericans, with a bastardly recogni­
tion for a thing stronger and better-equipped for life than them selves, are
explaining a situation which h as forgotten them . The American artist is no
product of Am erica’s zeal, b u t he is one of those who has chosen to get o ut­
side it. Some of them leave the background and accept sim pler conditions:
Ezra Pound of the first. And the question is still to be answered: to what
can one retu rn ?
Americans I would perm it to serve me, to conduct me rapidly and com­
petently wherever I was going, b u t not for one m om ent to im pose their
achievem ents upon w hat is going on in my h eart and in my soul. I am too
proud and too young to need the grandeur of physical America which one
accepts only at the price of one’s own dignity. I am making a voyage into
poverty because I am too proud to find n ourishm ent in a situation th at is
more successful than myself.
Cling, gentlem en, to the skyscraper by toe-finger-eyelash, b ut do not
come to Europe. Here nothing is done for you. You m u st write your own
literature, you m u st walk up and down stairs, and you m u st drink like
gentlem en.

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 WHY DO AMERICANS LIVE IN EUROPE?

B eren ice ABBOTT

TA O TRY TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS SEEMS ONLY TO SINK ONE MORE AND MORE
into a maze of com plexities, im possible to answ er. However, I do not prefer
to live outside America indefinitely. To live in Europe —in flight —as a so lu ­
tion can not satisfy. All th is talk of deracination in th is particular post-war
exodus seem s greatly overestim ated. The very complex n atu re of America
is, if possible, b etter understo o d from a distance th an at close range. The
extent of o ne’s A m ericanism is put to a severe test, and th a t extent denotes
the depth of the a rtis t’s capacity. W hat is m ore Irish than Joyce, more
Spanish than Cervantes? To learn from Europe by affiliation-im itation and
n ot by co n tra st is negation. A m erica’s a rtists m u st evolve from a civi­
lization new -revolutionary in sh o rt, vastly different. The m aterial at hand
for artists should be lim itless if they have the stren g th and vision to ad ju st
them selves to a rapidly changing civilization, with or w ithout the indi­
viduals, consciously or not, its very youthful energy will carry it on. In
tim e, th a t dynam ic m om entum is bound to produce artistically and o ther­
wise and when it h as quieted down, becom e refined, it is in danger of !
becom ing aesth etic. A sp iritual future b uilt on a m aterial b asis may be very
great even if it is n o t the custom .
But why worry about th e future? W hat about th e engineers, the archi­
tects, A ntheil, th e com ic movies, “G entlem en prefer B londes”? What about
our S cientists, in fact? Why Surrealism , for in stan ce? Microbes! (question
num ber three) the biggest m ovem ents are n o t nam ed . . .

H arry CROSBY
i

1X7
11 HY DO YOU PREFER TO LIVE OUTSIDE AM ERICA?
I prefer to live outside America
(1) because in America the s ta r s were all suffocated inside
(2) because I do n o t w ish to devote m yself to perpetual hypocrisy
(3) because outside Am erica there is nothing to rem ind me of my child­
hood
(4) because I prefer perihelion to aphelion
(5) because I love flagons of wine
(6) because I am an enem y of society and here I can h u n t with other
enem ies of society
(7) because I w ant to be in a t the death (of Europe)
(8) because I like tu m u lts and ch ances b etter th an security
(9) because I prefer tran sitio n al orgasm s to atlantic m onthlies
(10) because I am not coprophagous
(11) b ecau se I w ould ra th e r be an eagle gath erin g su n th a n a spider
gathering poison.

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 IN tr a n sitio n

(12) because by living outside of America New York can still rem ain for
me the City of a T housand and One Nights
(13) because the Rivers of Suicide are more inviting th an the Prairies of
Prosperity
(14) because I prefer explosions to whim perings

II

How do you envisage the spiritual future of America in the face of a dying
Europe and in the face of a R ussia th a t is adopting the American econom ic
vision?
In the pagan unafraidness of a Girl
and because she is unafraid
C haste
and because she is co n stan t to h er
desires
C haste

b ut th e men are afraid and

self-righteous
and disordered in th eir m inds
and weak
and su n less
and dry as eu n u ch s

III

W hat is your feeling about the revolutionary spirit of your age, as ex­
p ressed , for in sta n c e , in su c h m ovem ents as com m unism , su rrealism ,
anarchism ?
The re v o lu tio n a ry s p irit of o u r age (as e x p re sse d by co m m unism ,
surrealism , anarchism , m adness) is a hot firebrand th ru st into the dark
lantern of the world.
In Nine Decades
a SUN shall be born.

IV

What particular vision do you have of yourself in relation to tw entieth

century reality?
In relation to tw entieth century reality and by reality I m ean the real
under-the-surface reality of our age I have the vision of myself as a spoke in
the wheel of th is reality moving

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 WHY DO AMERICANS LIVE IN EUROPE?

away from W eakness

toward S trength
away from Civilized S ordidness
toward B arbaric Splendor
away from W him perings
toward Explosions
away from A shes
toward Fire
away from Malted Milk
toward Straight Gin
away from Sham e
toward N akedness
away from F urnished Souls
toward Forged Souls
away from C anaries
toward Lions
away from M esquinerie
toward M adness
away from Plural
toward Singular
away from Moon
toward Sun. •

K ath leen CANNELL

l D O N O T P R E F E R TO LIV E O U T S ID E A M E R IC A . I W O U LD P R E F E R TO LIV E IN A M E R IC A
if I could m ake enough m oney to do so. It happens th a t I have lived more
than half of my life in Europe. During the war I sp e n t a num ber of years in
New York, where I had not been since the age of seven. In spite of the fact
th at I never made enough m oney to be even reasonably com fortable there, I
have never been so m uch alive as at th a t period. I find the American life and
clim ate stim ulating. A m ericans in E urope are apt to go soft.
I am too self-centered to answ er your second q uestion. The only spiritual
fu tu re w hich p reo ccu p ies me is my own and it leaves me no tim e for
prophecy.
I was at one tim e an ardent and ra th e r active Com m unist. I have since
becom e convinced of th e vanity of m ovem ents, preferring to tu rn my good
old American in stin c t for reform upon the only p erson over whom I have
any control —myself.
I love living in th e tw entieth century. It is full of everything th a t has ever
been in th e world and of som e new things. People who pine for o ther ages
would have pined wherever they lived. To wail against your age is a con­
fession of w eakness.

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 IN tr a n sitio n

H. Wolf KAUFMAN

^ P R E F E R TO LIVE O U T S ID E O F A M E R IC A C H IE F L Y B E C A U S E I O N C E H AD M ON EY
enough to leave America with and the desire to leave America at the sam e
tim e. It was a coincidence and I took advantage o f it. There has never been a
coincidence sin ce. I have never had both the desire to go back and the
m oney to go back with at the sam e time.
I first conceived the notion of leaving America b ecau se I was disatisfied
with existing con d itions. I didn’t like the grade of b ooks the b ooksh ops
were selling. I bought a copy of Frank Harris, after saving my m oney for six
w eeks, and the bookdealer w ho sold me the book was arrested by a big­
eared nitwit who stood around and watched the transaction. But what
made me more angry than ever was that the jan itress of my apartment
h ou se, or to put it more exactly the janitress of the apartment h o u se in
which I rented a two room back apartment, objected to my sitting on the
front door step s and waiting for my wife to com e hom e w hen I had lo st the
key to the door. It w asn ’t dignified, sh e said, it didn’t look nice and the
other people in the building com plained.
S ince I have com e to know Paris I have becom e le s s irritable. I d on ’t like
the sou nd of the French language, I don’t lik e the R ussian taxi-drivers, I
would like to have som e good American coffee at the sam e tim e that I eat
my m eat, and I w ould lik e the new spaper for w hich I work to pay me
enough to enable me to go to con certs when the notion strik es me. But I
have com e to the con clu sion that there would be ju st as many irritable
things in Berlin, or Vienna, or M oscow, or Hong Kong. Which d o esn ’t mean
that I don’t intend to go to som e of th ose places. I do. If, of course, I ever
want to go and have the m oney to go with at the sam e time.
I am not particularly en th u siastic about America in any m anner, shape
or form. But I do have the feeling —Lord know s why —that the “spiritual
future of America” is worth watching as it evolves. And I think R ussia is
worth watching. A little later than America, though. England is stagnant.
The b est that England seem s to be capable of is the inane cleverism of
A lduous H uxley and the n ot-so-clever stu p id ities o f W yndham Lew is.
France has all the leeway in the world. Therefore the French are inclined to
lean back and take things easy. France is a country of French. England is a
country of E nglish. Spain is a country of Spaniards. Therein lies their
greatest w eak n esses.
I hate to u se the word “m elting-pot”. But the American is a com bination
of half a dozen nationalities. After the ingredients get well mixed up I think
som e sort of result m ust burst forth. The first definite American result
thu s far has been a sort of dynam o-like powder blast. That is only a first re­
sult. It isn ’t enough. Som ething e lse is com ing. A couple of years ago, way
down on Hudson street, I saw a little circulating library in a confectionery
shop. The b est sellers there were D reisers’s An American Tragedy and
Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises. The owner told me that m ost of his
cu stom ers wanted to read the books but later inevitably told him they were
“rotten”. N evertheless, they read them . I may be a h o p eless optim ist. I
 WHY DO AMERICANS LIVE IN EUROPE?

can n ot help feeling that if they read good b ooks long enough, w hether they
understand them or not, w hether they lik e them or not, so o n er or later a
bit of understanding will burst through. I cannot help feeling that if they
buy good pictures long enough b ecau se they have the m oney and think it’s
the proper thing to do, soon er or later they will learn to d istin gu ish be­
tween red and purple.
The critics brayed in their u su al nearsighted fashion after listen in g to
George A ntheil in Carnegie Hall. But they ranted all over the front pages of
the new spapers. The goddam fools didn’t realise that what they were say­
ing, in effect, was, "Here is im portant stuff that we d on ’t lik e.” Otherwise,
why pay so m uch attention to it?
No, I think America will som e day sprout forth. If you m ix blue and yellow
you get neither color for som e tim e. Then, after m ixing long enough, you
may get a beautiful green. Give ’em tim e. Here’s how. But —h ere’s how from
across the ocean.
 IN tr a n sitio n

IN MEMOKIAM:
H A R R Y C lt O S K V
[June 1 9 3 0 ]

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 In M em oriam : HARRY CROSBY

HOMAGE TO
HARRY CRONKV
l»y l i i i y U » y le

. . . W hile deep w ith in our h e a rts s h a ll sm o u ld e r

S tra n g e f ir e gro w in g yo u n g n ot older.
(Harry Crosby)

T* 0 B E LIVING N O W , T O B E LIVING, A LIVE A N D FULL O F T H E T H IN G , T O B E L IE V E

in th e su n , th e m oon, or th e sta rs, or in w hatever is your belief, an d to
w rite of th ese th in g s w ith an alertn ess sh a rp as a blade a n d as relentless,
is a challenge th a t is a solem n privilege of the young. In any generation
there are b u t few grave enough to acknowledge th is responsibility. In
ours, H arry Crosby s ta n d s singularly alone.
Maybe it w ould be a good th in g if h isto ry were never set down. It im ­
poses a tra d itio n of sta n d a rd s th a t h a s to do w ith th e experiences of
o th er people an d it m akes criticism a literary rig h t in stea d of a lonely
deliberation of th e h eart. It p u ts a ju d g m e n t u p o n m an before he is con­
ceived even, a n d ju d g m e n t on th e life he h as n o t b eg u n to live. And if a
m an w rite dow n h is poetry a n d h is life, they are doom ed before they are
w ritten by th e poetry an d th e lives th a t have been done before.
B ut there sh o u ld be no confusion, no questio n , in ju d g in g th e w ork of
a young m an w ho took h is tim e an d h is contem poraries to h eart. W ith all
the nobility of h is belief in them , a n d all the courage of h is d eterm in atio n
to m ake h is life a te sta m e n t of s te rn a n d u n co m p ro m ising beauty, he
w rote h is poem s an d w rote h is diary in w ords th a t never faltered in th e ir
p u rs u it of h is own am enable soul.
The re su lts are: one of the few im p o rta n t diaries ever p rinted; som e of
th e finest a n d m ost m oving d escrip tio n s of foreign places, of w eather, of
tim es of day; th e speech of a young m an w ho w as so ab sorbed in the d is­
play of life th a t he h a d n o tim e n o r in clin atio n for cynicism or for slander.
Add to th is som e of th e m ost delightful love poem s of o u r tim e, a n d a
lively sense of h u m o u r.
A page of h is diary, w ritten one April first goes as follows:

‘The ramparts, and the sun is strong and lizards are basking in the crannies of
the wall and I look down from the battlements over the new city and upon the steep
grassy slope a girl is digging up dandelions while a dirty-faced tot (“a totty in her
courses”) clings tenaciously to her skirts hampering her labors. Red slippers and
black stockings and the glint of a knife in the Sun and a herd of goats and a brush­
wood fire and the watching of her shadow and the mediaevalness of the ramparts
and the strong interior feeling and Carcassone perhaps the outward symbol of the
soul.’

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 IN tr a n sitio n

And in one of h is books of poem s there is a poem:

‘I have invited our little seamstress to take her thread and needle and sew our
two mouths together. I have asked the village blacksmith to forge golden chains to
tie our ankles together . . . I have arranged with the coiffeur for your hair to grow
into mine and my hair to be made to grow into yours . . . but though we hunt for
him all night and though we hear various reports of his existence we can never
find the young wizard who is able so they say to graft the soul of a young girl to the
soul of her lover so that not even the sharp scissors of the Fates can ever sever
them apart.’

There w as no one w ho ever lived more con sisten tly in the th in g that
w as hap pen ing then. And w ith th at the courage to m eet w hatever he
had ch osen , w ith no co n sisten cy except the co n sisten cy of h is own
choice, and always the courage to m atch it, His heart w as open like a
door, so open that there w as a crowd g ettin g into it. And w ith h is
m ind it w as the sam e way. His protection w as not in closing h im self
up w hen he found he w as invaded, but in retreat. Retreat from know ­
ing too m uch, from too m any books, from too m uch of life. If he
crossed the sea, it w as never a stretch he looked u pon as w ide rolling
water, b u t every drop of it stu n g in him becau se he did not know how
to keep th in g s ou tsid e him self; every rotting bit of wreck in it w as
heaped on h is ow n so u l, and every w h ale w as h is ow n sp ortin g,
sp ou tin g youn g adventure. If he w ent into retreat, into h is own soul
he w ould go, trailing th is clattering, jangling u niverse w ith him , th is
erm ine-trim m ed, th is m oth-eaten, th is w ine velvet, the crown jew els
on h is forehead, the crown of thorns in h is hand, into retreat, but
never into escape. E ither they w ould get out and leave him , the young
boy m aking h is ow n choice, or they would stay inside. B ut other than
th is there w as no m iddle way.
‘. . . th en if ever com e (he wrote)
Days w hich w eigh upon the heart,
Lead m e quietly away
Lead me quietly apart.’
 In M em oriam: HARRY CROSBY

TO THE CLOUD JUGGLER

by H a rt C rane

In Memoriam: Harry Crosby

W H A T YOU M AY C L U S T E R
We hold in vision only, asking trace
•
ROUND TH E K N E ES O F SPA CE

Of districts where cliff, sea and palm advance

The falling wonder o f a rainbow's trance.

Your light lifts w hiteness into virgin azure . . .

Disclose your lips, O Sun, nor long demure
With snore of thunder, crowding us to bleed
The green preemption of the deep seaweed.

You, the rum-giver to that slide-by-night, -­

The m oon’s best lover, —guide us by a sleight
Of quarts to faithfuls —surely smuggled home —
As you raise temples fresh from basking foam.

Expose vaunted validities that yawn

Past pleasantries . . . Assert the ripened dawn
As you have yielded balcony and room,
Or tempests —in a silver, floating plume.

Wrap us and lift us; drop us then, returned

Like water, undestroyed, —like mist, unbum ed . . .
But do not claim a friend like him again.
Whose arrow must have pierced you beyond pain.
 IN tr a n sitio n

HARRY CROSBY
A Pcki'M»nal N o lo

by G ilb e r t

E T U S S U P P O S E ,” M O N TA IG N E H A S W R IT T E N , " T H A T A P L A N K IS F IX E D B E T W E E N
the twin towers of Notre Dame Cathedral, quite wide enough for a man to
walk along it; however great may be our philosophical wisdom, however
stau n ch our courage, they will not em bolden u s to walk th at plank as
securely as we should, were it resting on the ground.” The m ere thought of
th at dizzy walk in air between the skyey tow ers, above Our Lady’s pinna­
cles, was enough, a later w riter tells us, to m ake som e of M ontaigne’s read­
ers blanch and sw eat with fear. And yet how jauntily you and I parade th at
selfsam e plank when it is laid o u t on the pavem ent of norm al experience,
little plainm en who rarely lift eyes above the shop windows and studiously
avert our gaze from the in sisten ce of the sun!
Harry Crosby could stroll th a t dizzy, aerial plank as easily, as carefree, as
though he were walking down a garden alley of his country home; n ot that,
through defect of im agination, he ignored the danger, b ut because he knew
and welcomed it. If he ever felt a qualm of vertigo, it was, I imagine, when he
tried to walk the plank laid o u t on terraJirm a, th a t safe and sensible prom ­
enade of whimpering "hollow m en”. He feared the terre a terre, the normal,
as m ost of us fear celestial heights.
Seeing Harry Crosby for the first time, one was at once im pressed by the
lithe, faunal elegance of his poise, b u t m ost of all, perhaps, by the curious
rem oteness of his gaze. In th e Parisian sa lo n where we first m et he seem ed
out of place, unseeing, as though his eyes, by som e trick of long-sighted­
ness or a queer Roentgen quality of their own, were watching som e aerial
pageant a c ro ss th e walls, o u t in th e blue beyond. S uch aloofness was
alm ost d isconcerting at first; "a difficult m an,” one thought, "and perhaps
an arrogant m an,” and turned for solace to the Marie Laurencin flowers,
pink and blue petals of artificial light glimmering from the wall. But, when
one spoke to him, there was nothing aloof, nothing of arrogance, in Harry
Crosby. An expert in the conversational vol plane, he could descend with­
out the least gesture of condescension from his eyrie and talk lightheart­
edly of the latest recipe for cocktails and the dilative influence of limp
P arisian ice on their gay Gordon h earts, or of his la test trouvaille in New
York ‘slanguage’.
I never heard him speak ill, or harshly, of any individual —and th at is to
say much; his only enem ies were Mrs Grundy and Mr Bowdler, legendary
types. He never refused a service to a friend or even an acquaintance, and

— 232 —
 In M em oriam : HARRY CROSBY

his generosity was unbounded, w hether it was a case of paying the fine of
som e reveller whom th e local police had seq u estrated or of salving a poet
on the rocks.
Clearest, perhaps, of my m em ories of Harry Crosby is an interm inable
autom obile drive from a c o u n try village w here I was staying, to Saint-
Dizier, w here transition is printed. Sum m er was ending and from vine­
yards stripped of a record grape-harvest (the wine of 1929 will yet be talked
of when you and I are dead) w raiths of night m ist were creeping to blur the
pale French roads. Crosby's chauffeur, a dream er and an incurable collec­
tor of contraventions, seem ed unable to find his way; we were lo st tim e and
tim e again and Saint-D izier seem ed a mirage on a m oonlit horizon. Yet
there, we knew, transition's galley-pages were im patiently awaiting correc­
tion, and we were all ra th e r cold and very hungry. Villages on the way
seem ed as dead as if th e w ar had trav ersed th em . B enighted p e a sa n ts
grunted m isleading counsel. Crosby, seated beside the chauffeur, was con­
tent. To have lo st th e way - th a t was, I th in k , to him the b est hors d'ceuvre
for the belated dinner, still far away, th e spice of th e adventure. Any fool
can find his way, a poet alone know s how to lose it. Our h o ste ss had
p ressed on u s a road-m ap w hen we were leaving. The w riter of th ese lines —
more sham e to him! —in sisted on stopping to exam ine the map (like “any
fool”) by th e light of th e headlam ps. We had brought the wrong map\ Harry
Crosby laughed, like a m ischievous child who h as tak en (as they say in
France) th e key of th e fields and is playing tru a n t. P rese n tly a rabbit
flashed grey a cro ss th e road, right u n d er o u r w heels. D espite dem urs from
ravenous m a te ria lists, C rosby sto p p ed th e car and we had to spen d a
q u arter of an hungry h o u r or m ore exam ining th e road, and the edges of the
forest w hich it ribboned, to discover the w ounded anim al. The cruelty of
leaving it to a lingering death was, to Crosby, inconceivable.
Jo u rn e y ’s end at last, and, after a hurried meal, we installed ourselves in
a neighbouring cafe where, with th e aid of “little g la sses” of fin e cham ­
pagne, we se t about th e inky rite of proof-correction. Harry Crosby in his
aviator’s overalls (he had intended to take a flying lesso n th a t m orning
near Paris b u t fog had, to his great disappointem ent, prevented it) created
som ething of a sen satio n in the sleepy little town. Under the drastic in-
vigilation of transition’s Editor. Mr Jo la s, a posse of proof-readers hu n ted
down the inverted m, th e bisected w, furtive m isalliances of the lower case
and neologies tw isted into solecism s. Crosby and I, to whom our Editor
allotted th e sam e pages, had a little c o n te st as to who would ‘sp o t’ the
greater num ber of m isprints; amour propre was saved, for we ended in a
dead h eat —a flattering re su lt (for me), for Crosby had the airm an’s eye for
typographical m isfires. (I believe th a t my detection, at a first reading, of the
unique p rin te r’s erro r in his book of poem s, Transit of Venus, prom ptly en ­
sured me a welcome place in h is esteem!) D espite th e superficial chaos of
his writing he was an extrem ely careful artist; he brought to his work the
vigilance and atten tio n to detail w hich won for him his pilot’s certificate
after an exceptionally brief series of flights u n d er ‘dual control’.
A nother m em ory of Harry Crosby, my last. He has ju s t returned from the
aviation field and is snugly ensconced in an enorm ous bed with a bulky

— 233 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

Shakespearian concordance propped on his knees. He has ju s t looked up

the references to “bed” in the w orks of his favourite poet, and is chuckling
over them .
“To bed, to bed: sleep kill tho se pretty eyes!”
“My bosom as a bed shall lodge th ee.”
“Madam, u n d ress you now and come to bed.”
“You were b est to go to bed and dream again.”
“A banished woman from my Harry’s bed.”
“To bed, to bed! T here's knocking at the gate: come, come, come come!”
S h ak esp eare, the E lizab eth an s, had an inevitable appeal for Crosby.
Those were spacious tim es before the world had been straitw aistcoated
with cables, iron roads and airlines. “Life ran very high in those days.”
Sonnets, Sea-Ventures, the “art of surfeit” . . . “Hot herringpies,” as we
read in Ulysses, “green mugs of sack honeysauces, sugar of roses, m arch­
pane, gooseberried pigeons, ringocandies. Sir W alter Raleigh, when they
arrested him had half a million francs on his back including a pair of fancy
stays.” That was a world of gentlem en-poet-adventurers, made for Harry
Crosby and his company, followers of the westward sun.
But now the earth has no m ystery left, no undiscovered country to ex­
plore, no perilous seas of fairyland. We have, no doubt, the air - but, for all
his airm an sh ip , th e pilot m u st m ake h is goal of som e know n sp o t of
charted earth. A bare three hundred years ago and Crosby would have been
in his elem ent,

A gallant knight
Singing a song.
In quest of Eldorado.

All th at is ended. In a m ere decade the rich, energetic man of to-day can
enjoy, or anyhow sam ple, all th a t th is little old world of ours has to offer of
diverting and exotic. “And behold all is vanity and vexation of spirit.” There
rem ain, of course, vast unexplored territories of the mind, dream -cities to
visit, cloud-capped palaces to explore; but the high-priests of m adness
and m o d ern ity have b lo ck ed th e way w ith th e ir dop es and d e n ia ls —
No Thoroughfare: Sens (le bon sens) Interdit —till only one virgin adven­
ture (if ‘adventure’ th a t can be called which is inevitable in life: an end)
seem s left, the final, futile plunge “down th e Valley of the Shadow” to

the undiscover’d country from whose bourn

no traveller returns . . .
 In M emoriam: HARRY CROSBY

HARRY CKONBT AND

TRAIVSITIOl%
by E u gen e J o Isim

I F E E L T H E R E IS N O T H IN G I C A N A D D T O S T U A R T G IL B E R T ’S M O V IN G A R T IC L E :
Harry Crosby, a p e rso n a l note. The qu alities h e describes th ere of a com ­
rade in life a n d letters were generously revealed to all those to whom
H ariy Crosby gave h is friendship. I w an t ra th e r to speak of h im in his
capacity as a friend of transition, w hich, while involving necessarily o u r
personal friendship, nevertheless goes far beyond th a t.
In the sp rin g of 1928 I received th e following letter from H arry Crosby:
“I have in h e rite d a little money, a n d if you approve, I would like to send
you $100 (strictly anonym ous) for you to send to th e poet w ho in your
ju d g m e n t h a s w riten th e b est poem in th e first twelve n u m b ers of tra n si­
tion. B ut for God’s sake, d o n ’t m ake a prize o u t of it. Instead of going to
som e fathead o rg an isatio n , I sh o u ld like th is sm all a m o u n t to go to som e­
one w ho will sp en d it on cocktails an d books ra th e r th a n on ch u rch
sociables an d lem onade. It you accept th is, please forget it as quick as
possible.”
T his ch arm in g a n d quixotic offer cam e a t a tim e, w hen the coffers of
transition —th a n k s to censors a n d o th e r su ch c re tin s —were som ew hat
depleted, an d it enabled u s to pay prom ptly a few w riters w ho needed the
money.
A year p assed by d u rin g w hich tim e H arry Crosby se n t me som e m a n u ­
scrip ts —always w ith th e m odest sug g estio n to destroy them if I did not
like them , an d invariably accom panied by som e H einesque ap h o rism s
an d encou rag in g notes w ith regard to th e offensive transition w as th e n
carrying on.
In th e sp rin g of 1929 I w as faced w ith th e problem of g ettin g a certain
a m o u n t of o u tsid e fin an cial help. H arry C rosby’s resp o n se w as im ­
m ediate, a n d in view of th e unavoidable depletion of my editoral ra n k s at
th a t tim e, he seem ed th e obvious person, by v irtu e of h is keen u n d e r­
sta n d in g a n d fervor for transition's aim s, to jo in u s. His collaboration
was, u p till th e end, generous, co m prehending an d u n stin te d , a n d full of
th a t h u m a n ch arm th a t all those felt w ho cam e n e a r him .
He w as a m ystic of th e sun-m ythos. T his was n o t a literary caprice on
h is p art, h is very being w as involved in it, he felt the planetary con­
cussions, th e fire-god w as p rim ordial in h is soul. T his ch th o n ia n faith
colored h is creative w ritings. His sp irit w as still ferm enting a t the tim e of
 IN tr a n sitio n

h is death. He w as still groping, and we w ho w atched h is evolution noted

w ith s a tis fa c tio n th a t h e w as rapidly g a in in g m ore d is c ip lin e and
m astery over h is in stru m ent. Fate cruelly w renched the lyre from h is
hand at a m om ent, w hen the creative spirit w as b urnin g b righ test in
him .
With h is death I feel that not only tra n s itio n , but the entire American
revolutionary m inority has lost one of its sta u n ch est and m ost p rom ising
m em bers.
A Requiem for Harry Crosby!

— 236 —
 In M emoriam : HARRY CROSBY

CINEMA OF A MAN
liy A it S*ib s il <1 ^1 s ic I jc U I i

In M e m o r ia m : H a rry C ro sb y

T
A H E E A R T H I S B R IG H T T H R O U G H T H E B O U G H S O F T H E M O O N
like a dead planet
It is silent it has no sound the sun is on it
It shines in the dark like a white stone in a
deep meadow
It is round above it is flattened under with shadow
*
* *

He sits in the rue St. Jacques at the iron table

It is dusk it is growing cold the roof stone glitters
on the gable
The iaxies turn in the rue du Pot de Fer
The gas jets brighten one by one behind the windows
of the stair
*
* *

This is his face the chin long the eyes looking

*
* *

Now he sits on the porch of the Villa Serbelloni

He is eating white bread and brown honey
The sun is hot on the lake there are boats rowing
It is spring the rhododendrons are out the wind
is blowing
*
* *

Above Bordeaux by the canal

His shadow passes on the evening wall
His legs are crooked at the knee he has one shoulder
His arms are long he vanishes among the shadows
of the alder
 IN tr a n sitio n

He wakes in the Grand Hotel V ieijahreszeiten

It is dawn the carts go by the curtains w hiten
He sees her yellow hair sh e has neither father nor m other
Her name is Ann sh e has had him now and before
another
*
* *

This is h is face in the light o f the full m oon

His skin is white and grey like the skin o f a quadroon
His head is raised to the sky h e stands staring
His m outh is still h is face is still h is eyes are staring
*
* *

He walks w ith Ernest in the streets in Saragossa

They are drunk their m ouths are hard they say que cosa
They say the cruel words they hurt each other
Their elbow s touch their shoulders touch their feet
go on and on together
*
* *

Now h e is by the sea at St-Tropez

The p ines roar in the wind it is hot it is noonday
He is naked he swim s in the blue under the sea water
His lim bs are drowned in the dapple o f sun like
the lim bs o f the se a ’s daughter
*
* *

Now he is in Chicago he is sleeping

The footstep p asses on the stone the roofs are dripping
The door is closed the w alls are dark the shadows deepen
His head is m otion less upon his arm h is hand is open
*
* *

Those are the cranes above the Karun River

They fly across the night their wings go over
They cross Orion and the south star o f the Wain
A wave has broken In the sea beyond the coast o f Spain

— 2 38 —
 In M emoriam : HARRY CROSBY

HARRY CROSRY
l»a
v l*liilif»|»ckN o u p iiu ll

K SAW HARRY CROSBY ONCE IN MY LIFE. He WAS RUNNING AROUND IN A

circle and p ro p o sin g a th o u sa n d s o lu tio n s w h ich h e ab an d on ed
w ith a p rom p titu d e h e did n o t w an t to h id e. H is great m ista k e,
in m y e stim a tio n , w as th a t h e a ccep ted b ein g a victim w ith o u t
p ro test.
T h e w orld in h is h a n d s w a s n o th in g b u t a b all h e s e t re­
volving. B u t h e, to o , revolved arou n d th at ball.
T he y ea rs p a s s e d and h is circ le narrow ed. F rien d sh ip , love,
p o etry b eca m e w ords. D eath rem ain ed th e o n ly reality.

— 239 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

SLGEPIMCi TOGETHER
by Hsirry Croxby

th e se d rea m s fo r C a resse
“J e r m o n s le s y e u x p o u r voir"

FOR A PROTECTION

i S E E P A R T O F YOU R F A C E P A R T O F YOU R M OU TH M OVING IN S A L U T A T IO N M AKING

am ends for the light wind th a t unravels your hair. I realize th at the snow­
ball I am bringing to you for a plaything is inadequate. There is for back­
ground a white colonnade a mere incident in th e m easure of the dream
which is brought to a close by your turning into a heavy silk fabric which I
wind around me as a protection against the cold wind which no doubt
made itself felt in my dream because all our bedclothes had fallen off
during the night.

WHITE SLIPPER

A
A W H IT E A E R O P L A N E W H IT E R TH A N T H E W O RD Y E S F A L L S L IK E A S L IP P E R FR OM
the sky. You come dancing over the silver th o rn s of the lawn and by hold­
ing up the corners of your rose-and-white sk irt you catch the white slipper
which I kick down to you from the su n .

WHITE CLOVER

T * H E R E IS A CLA IRV OY A NCE O F W H IT E C L O V E R , A CO M IN G TO W A R D S M E O F T H E

white star-fish of your feet, an aeolus of drapery. Your hand on the knob of
the door is the tim idity of the new moon, your hair over your shoulders a
cataract of unloosened stars, your slender arm s the white sails you lift to
the m ast of my neck. Not even the silk in ess of newdrawn milk can compare
to your skin, not even the cool curves of am phora can com pare to the cool
curves of your b reasts, not even the epithalam ium ic gestures of an Iseult
can com pare to your queenliness. Your ears are the littlest birds for the
arrows of my voice, your lap the innocent resting place for the hands of my
desire. And as you sit nude and shy on the edge of our bed I w onder at the
miracle of the opening of your eyes.

— 240 —
 In M emoriam: HARRY CROSBY

SAFETY-PIN

A
A A u d a c io u s ly y o u p u t o n t h e h a t b e lo n g in g t o t h e la d y a n d w a lk w ith m e
down the ab ru p t declivity to the sea. A large body of w ater confronts us
whereon is no ship w herein is no fish (so we are told by the skeleton of the
fisherm an) so th at we are spared th e anxiety of sh a rk s. You are preparing
to u n d ress and are taking off your rings preparatory to putting them in the
co n ch -sh ell w hich I hold up to you. You are having difficulties w ith a
safety-pin while I rem ain an appreciative spectator. We are interrupted by
the four winds w histling to gether over the burial of th e dead b u t though we
searched up and down th e beach we found no corpse and we were forced or
rath er you were forced to retu rn to the problem of th e safety-pin which re­
fused to open for th e sim ple reason th a t your fingers were inadequate to
the occasion.

HUMAN FLESH AND GOLDEN APPLES

l^ lK E T H E H O R S E S O F D IO M E D E S I AM B E IN G N O U R IS H E D W IT H HUM AN F L E S H
while you are eating th e golden apples of the H esperides. I suppose they
are the apples of the H esperides for they are so very big and gold. There is a
clean sou n d of gravel being raked. The shadow s u n d er your eyes are blue
as incense. Your voice is the d ista n t crying of night-birds, your body is the
long white neck of the peacock as sh e com es down th e gravel path. Your
m outh is an acre of desire so m uch as may be k issed in a day, our love the
putting to gether of p arts of an equation, so th a t when they knocked on the
door at nine o ’clock I could n o t believe th a t you were in the country and I
alone in a hotel in New York forced to take co nsolation in the bottle of
white rum th a t I bought la st night from th e elevator boy.

I BREAK WETH THE P A S T

N A H O T O F F IC E B U ILD IN G A MAN IS D IC TA TIN G A L E T T E R T O A B R IG H T -E Y E D

stenograp h er who h as ju s t graduated from the College of Progress. Dear
Madam I regret to inform you th a t your sw ans have sleeping sick n ess, b ut I
am far away in th e country w andering acro ss th e golf links your bright-
colored scarf around my neck. I can n o t seem to find you. I look into every
bunker. I ask th e caddy with the g luttonous face. I call o ut loud to the
birds. I keep rem em bering how good-looking you are with your bedroom
eyes and your new-moon ears. I begin to run. It is growing late for the red
wolf of the su n has alm ost disappeared into his cavern of night. I run over
the wooden bridge. I break with th e p a st and race into the future over the
far end of th e links feeling m yself fly through th e air tow ards two se n sa ­
tions of light w hich tu rn o u t to be your eyes. When I wake up I am as tired
as a m arathon run n er.

— 241 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

GOLDEN SPOON

VJB . O U R B O D Y IS T H E G O L D E N S P O O N BY M EA N S O F W H IC H 1 E A T YOUR S O U L . I D O N OT
seek to find the explanation for th is curious sensation which is more
visual than tactile. But I am afraid of the arm y of silver spoons m arshaled
in array und er th eir com m ander-in-chief Silver Fork who is about to give
the comm and to m arch against the golden spoon which I hold desperately
in my m outh.

AUNT AGATHA

L E G S H O U L D B E M O R E T H A N A L E G YOU SA ID AND I A G R E E D . T H E R E A R E
caterpillars underfoot you said and I agreed for I could feel my bare feet
squashing a liquid som ething. The secret of love is to be anim alistic you
said and I agreed for I like p anthers. But when you said let us go to call on
A unt Agatha I tied you face downward ac ro ss a chair, tu rn ed up your
clothes with the u tm o st precision and was ju s t on the point of lashing you
with a silver sw itch w hen th e re was a sh rie k of lau g h ter as th e Gay
D uchess and Elsa de B rabent b u rst into the room to tell u s th at th eir niece
Little Lady Lightfoot had been expelled from school for having been caught
in the act of kissing the Yellow Dwarf. Here the dream ended for I felt you
pressing knowingly into my arm s and I realized th a t it m ust be long after
seven to judge by the position of the su n as reflected in the twin m irrors of
your eyes.

IT IS SNOWING

W E A R E P R E P A R IN G O U R S E L V E S F O R T H E H O R R O R S O F W A R BY V IE W IN G AN
autopsy. A trained n u rse depressingly capable sits by a stove reading aloud
from the M adonna of the Sleeping Cars while you in sist on telling me th at
for three years the chorus girls have not come to Touggourt. There is a tu r­
moil of passionate red except for my hands w hich are two drifts of white
snow lying upon the cool shells of your breasts. It is snowing and there are
people in galoshes and when we wake up it is snowing and there is the
sound of the m en shovelling th e snow off th e sidewalks. It is one of those
cold grey days when the wise thing for us do is to go to sleep again like
bears in the wintertim e.

WHITE AEROPLANES IN FLIGHT

W E A R E FLY ING . B E L O W U S T H E LA N D IS A S H E E T O F N O T E P A P E R S C R A W L E D O V E R
by the words of roads and rivers. A cem etery is a game of chess. A ploughed
field is an a c c o rd e o n . B lack h a y ric k s a re cro w s. We are on e of an

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 In M em oriam: HARRY CROSBY

astonishin g pack of white aeroplanes a million m illion in num ber filling

the sky with a myriad white points of light hunting after the red fox of the
su n . We lose him am ong th e clouds. We find him again. But he eludes us
and burrow s o u t of sight into th e blue tu n n el of th e sea and you and I are
confronted by the u n p leasan t problem of having to alight in the Place Ven-
dome because we m u st cash a cheque at the bank before we can take a
room at th e Ritz. We awake to a bang. It is the femme de cham bre closing
the windows of o u r room while N arcisse is barking to be let out.

MIRACULOUS M ESSAGE

dH AM IN A PARLOR CAR. I AM IN A DINING CAR. 1 AM IN A SLEEPING CAR. 1 HAVE THE

upper berth so th a t I can n o t look o u t th e window b u t I have the apprehen­
sive feeling of things happening in the dark outside. A bearded creature
carrying a telegram in h is m outh as a dog often carries a new spaper is try­
ing to get on th e train. I know in advance it is for me believing what I cannot
prove. I feel th a t I am indivisible with th e telegram b u t I am n ot able to put
my hand through th e steel side of th e car. I have already decided to hide it
un d er the roof of my tongue w hen I am sleepily aware of a body stirring in
my arm s and of th e u tte r u se le ssn e ss of th e telegram which could n ot pos­
sibly contain su ch a m iraculous m essage as your “Are you awake Dear.”

EMBRACE ME YOU SAID

^ D m BRACE ME YOU SAID BUT MY ARMS WERE RIVETED TO THE MOST EXACTING OF
walls, em brace me you said b u t my m outh was sealed with the huge hot
fruit of red wax, em brace me you said b u t my eyes were seared by the sever­
ities of two th o u san d w inters —em brace me you said in su c h a low and
feline voice th a t my eyes began to open like frightened sh u tte rs, in su ch a
low and feline voice th a t my m outh becam e u nsealed like red ice in a bowl
of fire, in su c h a low and feline voice th a t my chains dropped like silver
needles to the floor and my arm s were free to encircle the white satin
nudity of your voice w hich I tore into th in strip s of m usic to store away in
my heart w hose d esert had been threaten ed with vast arm ies of female
laborers m arching down d u sty roads strew n with th e prickly leaves of the
cactus plant.

A PROGRESS UPWARD

o CCURING AT RARE INTERVALS IS A DREAM OF FAIRY-TALE LIGHTNESS MORE

swift th an the flight of tennis-balls. This dream c o n sists of a progress
upward tow ards a light m etallic fire (sweet-sm elling as a sun-ray) which
p ours like honey into a m inute orifice rigidly exact whose organ of hearing
is adjusted to th e harm ony of your hands.

— 2 43 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

WHITE FIRE

YA O U R T H R O A T IN MY D R EA M IS A S E N SA T IO N O F L IG H T S O B R IG H T S O S U D D E N TH A T
I am dom inated by the image of white fire far beyond the m om ent of or­
dinary awakening.

REVIRGINATE

A
ii -m S W IF T M ETA LL IC M O N S T E R W ITH E Y E S M O R E P R E C IO U S TH A N D IA M O N D S R IC H IN
the secrets of su n and wind w hirs with the whizzing sound of an arrow into
the direct centre of my dream from which you tu rn sleepily with w hat is the
m atter what is the m atter until we both fall asleep again u nder you grey
squirrel coat which I pull over our heads for it is b itter cold.

ANIMAL MAGNETISM

A ll T H E S A IL O R S A R E L A U G H IN G . IT IS C O N T A G IO U S . A L L T H E W H O R E S A R E
yawning. It is contagious. And all night long we wear ourselves out trying
to laugh and yawn at one and the sam e time.

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 FAREWELL TO tr a n sitio n

FAREWELL TO
TRANSITION
[June 1 9 3 0 ]

ANNOUNCEM ENT

W
T ^ T I T H T H IS NUMBER I BR IN G TO A C L O SE T H E D IR E C T IO N O F T R A N S IT IO N
over a period of three years. I am now suspending the m agazine in ­
definitely, as I can no longer afford the expenditure of tim e and
labor necessary to its preparation.
The transition al period of literature appears to be drawing to a
close. B ut our experim ental action, I feel sure, will con stitu te an im ­
pulsion, and a b a sis on which to construct for som e tim e to come.
I take th is opportunity of exp ressin g my gratitude to th ose who,
a t one tim e or another, have been friend s and collab orators of
tra n sitio n , e s p e c ia lly : th e la te H arry C rosby, S tu a r t G ilb ert,
Matthew Josep h son, E lliot Paul, Robert Sage, Sylvia Beach, Sonia
Himmel, Maria Jolas, and Maive Sage.

EUGENE JO LAS.

— 245 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

FAREWELL. TO
transition
A L e t t e r to E u g e n e J o l a s fr o m
Rol»ckr t S a « e

London, 20 March 1930.

A ^ e a r g e n e :—
The knowledge that transition has come to the end leaves me with a feeling
of sadness. My unavoidable activities outside of Paris these past m onths have
deprived me of the closer association with you and the magazine that I once
enjoyed: they have kept me too, I realize with regret, from materializing the
various compositions which in optimistic moments I had hoped to write and
send to you. But throughout my other occupations transition and its battles
have been frequently in my thoughts, and it was always pleasant to know that
the magazine existed and that a new num ber would be appearing sooner or
later.
Now that transition is to be discontinued there will be a decided void. It is
true th at num erous other periodicals of a literary or radical natu re are
appearing both in Europe and the United States, but none of them seem (I am
naturally som ewhat p artisan) to have the scope, freedom or unified aim
which made transition unique. That the concentrated tangible expression of
transition's fight has ceased and that there will be no Number 21 and Number
22 and Number 23 to anticipate m eans that another appreciable dose of spice
will be lacking from an ideologico-literary m enu which at present is not over­
laden with courses for exacting palates.
Yet a superb collection of souvenirs, both personal and literary, remains.
40, rue Fabert is an historic address for me, as it m ust be for you and several
others. I shall always remember that little fourth floor room with its single
window looking out on the Esplanade des Invalides and the dim vision of
Sacre-Coeur on the hill across the city. And I shall remember the just-visible
clock on the Gare des Invalides —sometimes a diabolic rem inder of luncheon
dates being missed, sometimes a convenient alibi for an aperitif at the comer
bistrot, the Metro, Chez Francis or Ferarri's. The walls of Room 16 should be
saturated with argum ents, jokes, discussions, worries, mockeries and those
pleasant m eandering conversations which at college we called pea-talks. I
always preferred the talks en famille, but how many people managed to break
through the inefficient consigne downstairs to tap hesitantly at the door of
‘the business and editorial offices’ of transition! Delightful people and im­
possible people, who always stayed on and on (totally disorganizing the u n ­
pleasant but necessary task of completing the business details) until they
were rallied by the irresistible suggestion of, ‘How about a little drink down
on the corner?'

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 FAREWELL TO tr a n sitio n

I recall, especially during the sum m er of 1928, the ritual of opening the
m orning mail, invariably rich with am usem ents and doubly so when a mail
boat had arrived from New York the previous day. There were the unbeliev­
ably bad m anuscripts from am ericans who interpreted modernism as an u n ­
systematic garbling of words and from englishmen who apparently thought
em ancipation m eant the spilling of the n astiest th o u g h ts left over from
puberty. There were threatening unpoetic letters dem anding w hether transi­
tion were going to publish th at poem sent a year ago —yes or no!! There were
those precious newspaper clippings which, with few exceptions, ran true to
form —prelim inary sneers at the Joyce-Stein contributions (the nam es, for
some reason, were always linked together), the inevitable wisecrack about the
small ‘t’ in transition and the naive speculations about the magazine being
composed on the terraces of M ontparnasse cafes. And then, in magnificent
contrast, the occasional appearance of an excellent m anuscript from some
person completely unknown.
It am uses me, too, to remember the freak results of publishing some of the
m an uscripts subm itted. There was a certain sh o rt story w hich was so
victoriacrossish in its servantgirl philosophy, so pom pously sentim ental
in its style, such a complete burlesque of w hat a good short story should
be th at you could not resist publishing it. The author was overjoyed at its
acceptance and, as far as we ever knew, no reader of transition ever found
any objections to it. Then there were a num ber of stories which were on
the border, which were finally accepted w ith misgivings —and which were
immediately selected by the reviewers as the only worthwhile things in their
respective num bers.
No one, apparently, discovered the ultra-assininity of an essay published in
the first num ber as a test of the reader’s discrim ination, and I fear th at few
noticed the quite remarkable m erits of the finest things which transition
published during its three years of existence.
It sometimes seems, curious th at even people of some intelligence cannot
get beyond the lazy habit of accepting readymade classifications for all phe­
nom ena which come to their attention. To the end transition rem ained for
the colum nists of the United States and for many others a m anifestation of
M ontparnasse. The more I have lived in Paris the less certain I have been as to
the exact definition of th at m ysterious and derogatory word M ontparnasse. It
may mean the cafes in the vicinity of the Carrefour Raspail, or it may mean
the M ontparnasse quarter (which comprises probably a thousand times as
many hum ble french working people as it does artists, near-artists or pseudo­
artists), or it may mean a more or less definite social atm osphere of affecta­
tion, drunkenness, freakishness, unmorality, perversity (or perversion, if you
prefer) and degeneration. In any case, however the word be interpreted, there
is little actual application to transition. No one directly concerned with the
publication of the magazine has ever been an habitue of the M ontparnasse
cafes, a resident of the district or a contributor to the atmosphere. But,
because am erican reviewers like to think of M ontparnasse as the ‘a rtists’
colony’ and because they never took the trouble to u n derstand transition's
rather simple aims, they persisted in putting transition and M ontparnasse
together, ju st as they persisted in finding an inexistent relationship between

— 247 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

Gertrude Stein’s everlasting strumm ing on a single key and Jam es Joyce’s
rich cosmic symphony.
But 1 am going astray. I am, as you know, sentim ental, and I should like to
evoke just one or two more of the many souvenirs before dropping the sub­
ject. Our promenades together through Paris, those stim ulating impromptu
strolls about the Boulevards, the Champs-de-Mars quarter, the Place de
l’Alma and the alley-streets between the Place Saint-German-des-Pres and the
Place Saint-Michel will always be happy memories, but I do not wish to speak
of them now for I hope that the day will soon come when I may return to Paris
and we shall be able to resume these walks - not forgetting an occasional
Pernod or biere allemande en route. Unfortunately, however, I suppose, I am
destined never to go with you again to that charming little town in the Haute-
Marne, Saint-Dizier, where transition p assed through the m ysteries of a
french printing plant. My memories of Saint-Dizier nevertheless are vivid
ones - the station restaurant with its superb old dry Vouvray which we speed­
ily exhausted, the amiable waitress who served the cobwebby bottles while
they lasted, the abominable m onument to the morts de la guerre, the thin
canal and its locks where the barges descended in a seasick manner before
continuing toward Paris, and the cheerful holly tree in the postoffice park.
And that cold room where we corrected proof throughout the day except for
the intervals of consultation with the suspecting Father Christmas. And then
those evenings in the Cafe du Commerce whose buxom patronne was proud
of the english she had picked up during the war but regretfully confessed that
she could not keep pace with transition , and whose patron, fresh back from
‘la chasse’, was afraid to talk to you in german when there were customers
about but became generous to a quite unfrenchlike degree with a bottle of
Courvoisier (to his wife's dismay) as the evening wore on. And those eerie
walks through the deserted and shadow-haunted town when even the cafes
had closed their doors . . .
Inextricably associated with the recollections of my first days with transi­
tion and my first visits to Saint-Dizier is the shadow of Elliot Paul, rotund and
bewhiskered and as m ischievous as a Katzenjammer Kid. It is pleasant to re­
member those ridiculous games of croquet at Colombey-les-Deux-Eglises and
the expert cheating that took place as we thumped the balls over the knobby
ground in back of your home. But above all I shall always remember that
peculiarly perfect summ er evening when we all went out into the field beside
the ‘croquet grounds' and Paul's accordeon pum ped out everything from
Nearer My God to Thee and The Trail o j the Lonesome Pine to russian folk
dances and George Antheil, while we sat on the grass and watched the sun
spurt deep colors into the sky beyond the rambling Haute-Marne hills . . .
But these things are only an atom of the experiences that have rolled out of
the transition cornucopia. The magazine brought many people together, for
better or for worse. More than one fine friendship developed, num erous
valuable acquaintships were made. That sensibilities were occasionally tram­
pled and a few vivid enm ities produced was, I suppose, an inevitable by­
product. People who are interested in writing have, or are supposed to have,
ideas: frequently, however, they are not devoid of stubborn instincts. And in­
dividuals thus dually equipped are apt to clash in the manner of strange

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 FAREWELL TO tr a n sitio n

bulldogs. There were the lady geniuses (should it be geniae?) who shrieked
their loves and h ates in p rin t and a few males who tried for vengeance
through dubious methods. Personalities sometimes intruded where objective
ideology was more appropriate. But most of the sparks cooled with a few
m onths of perspective and there was little perm anent damage done.
The only betrayal sufficiently sham eless to rem ain unforgiven seems to me
to be th at of Harold Salemson, the industrious young literary man about
town. The lurid and distorted series of articles which he sold to an american
newspaper syndicate should certainly blackball him forever in Paris. Taking
Harry Crosby's suicide as a starting point, he wrote, as you know, a garbled
‘cross-section of life in the am erican art colony of Paris' which resembled the
‘findings’ of a cub reporter from Kalamazoo who had come to Paris to ‘in­
vestigate conditions’. In this series, which is doubly ghastly in its capital­
ization of the Crosby tragedy, the reader is presented a confused picture in
which Crosby and a vague sensation-seeking ‘cult,’ Jam es Joyce, transition,
M ontparnasse (inevitably), the Q uat'z’Arts ball, Gertrude Stein, drugs, drink,
Link Gillespie, etc., etc. all appear to be somehow involved in a wild and
degenerate communal orgy. Hot stuff for the folks back home to marvel over
with their Sunday m orning pancakes, b u t utterly false in its correlations and
malicious in its implications. The other quarrels and m isunderstanding are
lost in the m ultitudinous pleasant tangents of transition, b u t such a traitor­
ous peddling of gossip and inaccuracy m ust rem ain a dirty blotch on the
records.
Three of transition's contributors have died, - Howard Weeks, a Detroit
newspaper m an who m ight have become a fine writer had it not been for pro­
hib itio n ; B aro n n ess E lsa F reitag von Loringhoven, w hose eccentrically
vicious talent was far from negligible, and Harry Crosby. Although 1 had
always ju st-m issed m eeting Crosby I experienced a sh arp shock when I
bought a two-day-old Paris newspaper in Budapest one m orning and read of
his suicide. It was the sort of thing th at p u ts ice in one’s blood. To me it
seemed a terrible mistake, for life promised more to him th an to most of us
and his true core of poetic talent would surely have crystalized had he perse­
vered. Yet I know b u t little of his life and none of us can judge the solutions
others adopt for their own problems. The affair was, of course, sensational­
ized and provided ample m aterial for such obscene articles as those which
Salemson readily sold; it gave ground for m uch sm ug moralizing and in­
dignant ranting about the life which is supposed to be lived by the ‘american
art colony in Paris.’ From w hat little I have heard I believe it was true that
Crosby was eager to taste all the sensations life could offer him; and, having
the means, he did so. Well, why not? Such an am bition may not appeal to you
or to me, b u t what is there against someone else trying to achieve it? The
attainm ent requires the courage and fixity of purpose which, bent in other
directions, produce great poets, great scientists, great businessm en. It seems
to me that Crosby's course was more admirable than a sanely mediocre avoid­
ance of all sensation and danger.
It would be futile to make these comm ents and rem iniscences of the past
three years more th an a skeleton, and of transition itself I shall speak even
more briefly, for I know th at you, who are so vastly closer to its life, are well

— 249 —
 IN tr a n sitio n

aware of its successes and failures. Yet, in sum m arizing its achievements,
your last letter omits many of the factors which reinforced the magazine’s
central aims, transition created a trem endous advance focus on the new work
of Jam es Joyce and inspired the illuminating series of essays written about
that work before its completion, it pioneered in presenting english tran s­
lations of Fargue, Benn, Perse, Kafka, Ribem ont-Dessaignes, Soupault,
Breton, several of the Soviet authors and other im portant european writers,
it introduced into english the more valuable elem ents of surrealism e, it
started the process of destroying the hum drum realism and stylistic banality
which have so long characterized american fiction, and as you emphasize, it
fired the first shots in the revolution of the word, related the primitive m ental­
ity to the reality of the presentday and brought forward the dream magic of
m an’s mind. It accomplished these things and many others. It was for a long
time the only possible outlet for writers whose conception or form was u n ­
orthodox. I am sure th at you would be the first to adm it that, in welcoming
experimentation, transition sometimes printed m anuscripts of small value.
But better to have encouraged the man who tried to break away from the
wornout conventional and failed than to have adm itted only the man who
succeeded in fabricating stories according to pattern. I cannot help b ut
believe th at transition was a trem endous inspiration to all those interested in
the progress of modern literature and in its being moulded into a vehicule
more in touch with the times. And this was a service which formed a splendid
raison d’etre. Through it transition m ust be given its place as an influence on
american literature in a period which may accurately be called transitional.
I had intended to outline at some length my reasons for believing that tran­
sition should go ju st a bit farther, b u t at the last moment I have decided to re­
frain. Perhaps after all it is better for transition to become silent while the
ideas proposed are still fresh than to continue, and risk becoming repetitious
and monotonous. In any case it is useless to regret: better to be thankful that
transition has existed, with its discoveries, its battles, its controversies, its
ideas and its superb work in revivifying literature. Although my name trailing
along on the reverse of the title page has not meant m uch in the past few
issues I have been content to see it there for sentim ental reasons. Life for me
has been pleasanter since 1927 because of transition’s existence, and I feel
certain that many others can honestly say the same thing. Possibly I am u n ­
justifiably prejudiced, but I suspect that after the twenty num bers of transi­
tion american literature will be a little different ju st as all literature has been a
little different since the publication of Ulysses.
I wish you the best of luck for the final num ber, which, because I know
nothing of the contents, I await with even more eagerness than usual. There
is so m uch more that I should like to say, but I am counting on your coming
to London as soon as you have corrected the last page of proof. And I know an
excellent pub where we can talk over the rest.
A lw ays yourfriend,
BOB.
 FAREWELL TO tr a n sitio n

TRANSITION AND
FRANCE
■»v V N iilip p e N o iip s m li

T THE M O M E N T W H E N E U G E N E J O L A S H A S D E C ID E D T O S U S P E N D T H E
publication o f tra n sitio n , it does n ot seem to m e unim portant to look
back and exam ine the role played by th is review.
At a tim e w hen we stood in France before the collapse o f all poetic
values, w hen th o se m ost qualified to consider poetry had becom e dis­
couraged, and w hen, for reasons that seem to m e superfluous to en u ­
m erate h ere, th o s e sa m e p e r so n s tu rn ed th eir a tte n tio n in o th er
directions, tra n sitio n represented the only living force, the only review
w hich did not despair o f poetry, and th us authorized the poets to con ­
tinue their work-
Let m e cite only on e exam ple o f the co n seq u en ces o f tra n sitio n 's
existence, to wit, the R e v o lu tio n o f th e Word, w hich Jo la s proposed
not only to our activity, but still m ore to our spirit. The question at
stake here was n ot — as it always was in the case o f the ignom inious
M arinetti’s futurism —a gam e in w hich only the form was considered,
but rather a project for an en ten te betw een action and poetry. In 1927,
1 9 2 8 , and 1 9 2 9 we could not accept m ore or le ss w itty speculations,
attem pts at a play on words, or sim ple attem pts o f a more or less moral­
ising nature, tra n sitio n , therefore, at that period, was a geom etric link.
It was th e only “ direction” on e could have taken w ithout risking
defeat from the very beginning.
At the present tim e we should, therefore, feel le ss regret at the dis­
appearance o f a review w hich has reached its goal. It can die in peace,
the direction has been suggested, the im pulse has been given.

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 IN tr a n sitio n

THE PURSUIT OF
HAPPINESS

A s W A S T O B E E X P E C T E D , T R A N S IT IO N H A S A F F O R D E D U N IT E D S T A T E S
o fficials, a n d th e ir u n d e r s tu d ie s in th e v a rio u s c o m m o n w e a lth s ,
c o n tin u o u s o p p o r tu n itie s to d isp la y th e ir m a u d lin in s tin c ts .
No. 3 w a s fo u n d b y M r. F u lle r, m a n a g e r of th e O ld C o rn e r B o o k
S to re o f B o s to n , a rs e w ip e r to th e la te J . F ra n k C h a se , a n d p a tro n
s a in t o f th e b o o k review p a g e s o f th e B o s to n H e ra ld a n d th e B o s to n
T r a n s c r ip t “ to c o n ta in m a te ria l in v io la tio n o f th e M a s s a c h u s e tts
law .”
No. 4 w as tu r n e d b a c k b y th e P h ila d e lp h ia c u s to m s o ffic ials o n
th e g ro u n d t h a t it w a s c o p y rig h te d m a te ria l.
No. 5 w a s h e ld u p n e e d le s s ly a n d w ith o u t ju s tif ic a tio n fo r w e e k s
by th e p o r t a u th o r itie s o f New Y ork.
No. 6 h a s b e e n c o n fis c a te d b y th e s a m e g e n tle m e n a n d re fu s e d
a d m is s io n o n th e g ro u n d t h a t it c o n ta in e d o b s c e n e m a tte r.
N e e d le s s to sa y , th e e d ito r s o f tr a n s itio n , b e in g m o re th a n s ix ­
te e n y e a rs o f age a n d o f s o u n d m in d , h av e n o r e s p e c t w h a te v e r fo r
th e law , a n d c e rta in ly n o n e fo r th e u n d e r p a id a n d sc a n t-w itte d crew
th e c itiz e n s o f th e U n ite d S ta te s h ire to a n n o y th e m . O c c a sio n a lly
it m ay b e n e c e s s a r y to p r in t a few e x tra c o p ie s in o rd e r to c ir c u m ­
v e n t th e m , b u t o u r s u b s c r ib e r s w ill b e s e rv e d a n d th e b o o k s to r e s
w ill b e s u p p lie d .
Y et th e s p e c ta c le is lu d ic r o u s . T h e g e n e ra l law s o f th e U n ited
S ta te s a re fra m e d b y c r o o k s , if m o n e y is involved, a n d b y b ig o ts , if
it is a c a s e o f m o ra ls . T h e y a re v o te d in to e ffe c t b y n in c o m p o o p s in
e x c h a n g e fo r lo c a l b rid g e s , p o s t o ffices, o r ev en F o u rth o f J u ly
s e a ts u p o n rev iew in g s ta n d s . T h e y a re e n fo rc e d by th e d e lin q u e n t
re la tiv e s a n d frie n d s o f th e m e n w ho p a s s e d th e m , e x c e p t in c a s e s
w h e re th e y m ig h t in c o n v e n ie n c e th e m e n w h o d ra fte d th e m .
T h e re w o u ld b e little o b je c tio n to th is q u e e r g a m e if its p a rtic i­
p a n ts w ere c o u r te o u s e n o u g h n o t to in te rfe re w ith th o s e w h o p re ­
fe r s im p le r a m u s e m e n ts , tr a n s itio n is c o m p ile d a n d p rin te d e a c h
m o n th b e c a u s e th e e d ito r s lik e to s p e n d th e ir tim e th a t w ay, a n d it
is s e n t to a g ro u p o f p e o p le w h o a re a s m u c h e n title d to sp e c ia l

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 EPILOGUE

c o n s id e r a t io n in th e w ay o f r e a d in g m a tte r a s are d o c to r s or
e n g in e er s.
S in c e th e n ew sp a p er w riters from c o a s t to c o a s t have d eclared
t r a n s itio n to be u tte r ly u n in te llig ib le , and h ave proved c o n c lu ­
siv e ly from th eir c o m m e n ts th a t it w a s, in fact, q u ite m e a n in g le ss
to th em , any c la im th a t th e m a g a zin e is lik e ly to corrupt th e m orals
o f A m erican y o u th s e e m s far fetch ed .
N aturally, w e sh a ll c o n tin u e to print w h atever w e th in k b e st, but
in a sm u c h a s th e a u th o r itie s and c e n s o r s have ta k en to reading ou r
product, w e w ish to inform th em th a t w e have had sp e c ia l b u tto n ­
h o le s se w e d in to o u r co a t-ta ils w ith red, w h ite and b lu e th read s
and th a t w e sh a ll h en c e fo r th w ear th erein , for th e b en efit o f any
and all w ho h o ld o ffice, b e it h igh or low , w ith in th e gift o f the
A m erican p eo p le, a sm a ll sprig o f m istle to e .

THE EDITO RS.

[NOVEMBER 1927]

EPILOGUE

THE END OE EUROPE

hy H a r r y C rosb v

T * HE SHATTERED HULL OF A ROWBOAT STUCK IN THE SAND, A FIRE OF

driftw ood, a b o ttle o f b la ck w ine, b la ck b e e tle s, th e w eird cry o f
se a g u lls lo s t in th e fog, th e so u n d o f th e tide creep in g in over th e
w et sa n d s, th e to m b sto n e in th e ee l-g r a ss b eh in d th e d u n e s.

[JUNE 1920)

2 53 —
 A e k iH m lo d g in e iifK

The publishers, and Phillips & Company Books, would like to thank the following
people who helped in the making of this transition anthology:

W illia m C. A g e e C o n sta n c e K een e

G o rd o n B a ld w in E lin o r L a n g er
E d o a rd o B e n s i B . L e rm a n (G alerie L ou ise Leiris)
J a n e t B o w c o tt N in a L o b a n o v -R o s to v s k y
K ay B o y le L y n n M a c R itc h ie
S te p h e n F. B r e im e r M ic h a e l M u lca y
R o g er B u ll A d a m P h illip s
J o h n C a ld er D avid P h illip s
D ia n a C o lle c o t t T e r e n c e P itts
A m y C onger R o y R u b in s t e in
V irg in ia A . C r e e d e n S h e ila R yan
M erry A . F o r e s ta D avid S ta n g
E liz a b e th F rie d m a n n J o h n S te w a r t
J e r o m e G old M arcia T ie d e
M argaret H a rm a n P a m e la T od d
N a o m i H o ffm a n L u c ie n T r eilla rd
P a tr ic ia , C o u n t e s s J e l l ic o e K e lle y J e a n e Y o u n g e r
B e t s y a n d T in a J o la s
Proofreaders: S im o n e M au ger
A n n a P o w e ll
M ary S c o t t

Exhaustive efforts have been made to contact all contributors whose work has
been included in this book, their agents or heirs. Phillips & Company Books
would be extremely grateful for information leading to those whom we have not
been able to find. To those who have given permission for their work to appear in
this anthology, our renewed appreciation:

Poetry and Photograph by B e r e n i c e a b b o t t : © Berenice Abbott/Commerce

Graphics Ltd, Inc.
Poetry by r i c h a r d a l d i n g t o n : © Madame Catherine Guillaume
Comment by g e o r g e a n t h e i l : By permission of the Antheil Estate
Poetry by h a n s a r p : © 1963 by Verlags AG Die Arche, Zurich:
Arping by h a n s a r p : Copyright 1990 a r s n .y . / a d a g p
Poetry by s a m u e l b e c k e t t : Reprinted by permission of Grove Weidenfeld. © 1977 by
Samuel Beckett

— 254 —
 A ckn ow led gm en ts

Fiction and poetry by p a u l b o w l e s : Copyright © 1928, 1930 by Paul Bowles. By

permission of William Morris Agency, Inc.
Fiction, poetry and comments by kay b o y l e : Copyright © 1990 by Kay Boyle. By
permission of Watkins/Loomis Agency, Inc.
Photograph by c o n s t a n t in b r a n c u s i : Copyright 1990 a r s n . y . / a d a g p . Courtesy
Musee National d’Ari Moderne, Paris
Paintings by g e o r g e s b r a q u e : Copyright 1990 a r s n . y . / a d a g p . Courtesy Galerie
Louise Leiris, Paris
Poetry by b r y h e r : By permission of Perdita Schaffner
Wire Sculpture by a l e x a n d e r c a l d e r : Copyright 1990 a r s n .y . / a d a g p . Courtesy
Peter A. Juley & Son Collection, National Museum of American Art, Smithsonian
Institution
Fiction by e r s k i n e c a l d w e l l : By permission of the Estate of Erskine Caldwell
Poetry and liciion by m a l c o lm c o w l e y : By permission of Robert Cowley
Poetry by h a r t c r a n e : From The Collected Poems of Hart Crane. Copyright© 1933,
1958, 1966 by Liveright Publishing Corporation. Reprinted by permission of W.W.
Norton & Company, Inc.
Photograph by h a r r y c r o s b y : Courtesy Special Collections, Morris Library, South­
ern Illinois University, Carbondale.
Painting by s t u a r t d a m s : Collection of Betty and Milton Green, Birmingham,
Michigan. © d a c s 1990. Photo by © Geoffrey Clements, Courtesy Stuart Davis
Catalogue Raisonne, New York
Painting by g io r g io d e c h ir ic o : © d a c s 1990
Writing by r o b e r t d e s n o s : Poem from Domaine Public (1953), © Editions
Gallimard; Scenario by permission of Dr. Michel Fraenkel
Lines from “The Sons of Our Sons” by ilya e h r e n b u r g [Epigraph]: Translated by
Babette Deutsch, included in A Treasury of Russian Verse, edited by Avrahm
Yarmolinsky
Writing by paul e l u a r d : “A Dream” and “In Company,” from Bibliotheque de la
Pleiade, Vol. 1; “Georges Braque,” from Capitate de la Douleur. © Editions
Gallimard
Frottage by m a x e r n s t : Copyright 1990 a r s n .y . / s p a d e m
Poetry and fiction by a n d r e g i d e : © Editions Gallimard
Poetry by r o b e r t g r a v e s : By permission of A.P. Watt Limited on behalf of The
Executors of the Estate of Robert Graves
Paintings by j u a n g r i s : Copyright 1990 a r s n . y . / s p a d e m . Courtesy Galerie Louise
Leiris, Paris
Painting by g e o r g g r o s s : The Demagogue by Georg Grosz, © d a c s 1990. Courtesy
Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam
Poetry by H.D.: From H.D.: Collected Poems 1912-1944. Copyright © by the Estate
of Hilda Doolittle. Reprinted by permission of New Directions Publishing Corpora­
tion. U.S. and Canadian Rights
Fiction by e r n e s t h e m in g w a y : Reprinted with permission of Charles Scribner’s
Sons, an imprint of Macmillan Publishing Company from Men Without Women by
Ernest Hemingway. Copyright 1927 by Charles Scribner’s Sons, renewal copyright
© 1955 by Ernest Hemingway. Photograph of e r n e s t h e m in g w a y : Courtesy Sylvia
Beach Papers. Princeton University Library.
Poetry and other writings by e u g e n e j o l a s and t h e o r u t r a : By permission of Betsy
and Tina Jolas
Text by j a m e s j o y c e : From f in n ig a n s w a k e by James Joyce. Copyright 1939 by
James Joyce, renewed © 1967 by George Joyce and Lucia Joyce. Reprinted by per­
mission of Viking Penguin, a division of Penguin Books USA Inc.

— 255 —
 A cknow ledgm ents

Fiction by f r a n z k a f k a : From t h e c o m p l e t e s t o r i e s by Franz Kafka. Copyright ©

1971 by Schocken Books. Inc. Reprinted by permission of Schocken Books,
published by Pantheon Books, a Division of Random House, Inc.
Line drawing by p a u l k l e e : Copyright 1989 a r s n . y . / c o s m o p r e s s
Painting by f e r n a n d l e g e r : Copyright 1990 a r s n . y . / s p a d e m . Courtesy Musee
National d’Art Modeme, Paris
Fiction by r o b e r t m c a l m o n : Copyright © 1990. By permission of Watkins/Loomis
Agency, Inc.
Poetry by a r c h i b a l d m a c l e i s h : Copyright © 1927, 1928, 1930, 1962 by Archibald
MacLeish. From New & C ollected Poems, 1917-1976. Copyright © 1976 by
Houghton Mifflin Company. Boston
Photographs by m a n r a y : Copyright 1990 a r s n . y . / a d a g p . Courtesy Jerome Gold
(Man Ray Trust) and Lucien Treillard, Paris
Pastel by a n d r e m a s s o n : Copyright 1990 a r s n . y . / s p a d e m . Courtesy Galerie Louise
Leiris, Paris
Painting by j o a n m i r O: The C arbide Lamp, 1922-23. Oil on canvas, 15x18"
(38.1x45.7 cm). Collection, The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Purchase. Copy­
right 1990 ARS N.Y. / ADAGP
Essay by e l l i o t p a u l : By permission of the Estate of Elliot Paul
Painting by f r a n c i s p i c a b i a : Copyright 1990 a r s n . y . / a d a g p / s p a d e m
Charcoal and pastel by p a b l o p i c a s s o : Copyright 1990 a r s n . y . / s p a d e m . Courtesy
Galerie Louise Leiris, Paris
Fiction by k a t h e r i n e a n n e p o r t e r : “Magic” from Flowering J u d a s an d Other
Stories [and containing the author’s corrections made subsequent to publication in
transition] copyright 1930 and renewed 1958 by Katherine Anne Porter, reprinted
by permission of Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, Inc. and Isabel Bayley, Literary Trus­
tee for the Estate of Katherine Anne Porter
Poetry and fiction by l a u r a r i d i n g : Reprinted by permission of the author, Laura
Riding Jackson: “I give full permission and approval to the selection chosen for the
appearance of writings of mine in a transition collection, with justification felt
despite the difference between the date of this publication and the date of my
authorship of the selections. I have found in the passing of years a to-me notable
consistency between successive stages of my modes of thought and composition."
Poetry by r a i n e r m a r ia r i l k e : By permission of Insel Verlag, Frankfurt am Main
Painting by k u r t s c h w i t t e r s : Copyright 1989 a r s n . y . / c o s m o p r e s s . Courtesy
Statens Konstmuseer, Sweden
Poem and comments by p h i l i p p e s o u p a u l t : By permission of the author
Writing by g e r t r u d e s t e i n : By permission of the Estate of Gertrude Stein
Painting by j o s e p h s t e l l a : The Voice oj'the City of New York Interpreted, 1920-22:
The Bridge. Collection of The Newark Museum, Newark, New Jersey. Purchase
1937, Felix Fuld Bequest Fund
Painting by y v e s t a n g u y : Copyright 1990 a r s n . y . / s p a d e m
Poetry by t r i s t a n t z a r a : Copyright © Editions Flammarion
Photographs by e d w a r d w e s t o n : © 1981 The Arizona Board of Regents, Center for
Creative Photography. “Fragment,” Courtesy San Francisco Museum of Modern
Art, Albert M. Bender Collection, Bequest of Albert M. Bender, 41.2993. “Pepper,”
Courtesy Center for Creative Photography
Fiction by w il l ia m o a r l o s w i l l i a m s : transition, 1928. Reprinted by permission of
New Directions Publishing Corporation., Agents.
Poetry by l o u i s z u k o f s k y : Reprinted by permission of Paul Zukofsky

on th e en d pa pers: Original advertisements from the pages of transition, 1927-1930

DESIGNER: DAVID FORDHAM

— 256 —
l it e r a t u r e U .S . $14.95
CANADA $16.95

In 1927, in Paris, Eugene Jolas founded an English-language m aga­

zine destined to become one of the liveliest, most controversial, and
artistically important journals of the twentieth century. Dedicated to
the introduction and support of new and experimental artistic and
literary forms, transition was marked by its truly international
perspective as well as the ferocity of its manifestos and editorial
opinion. Its most notable endeavor, and one that helped earn the
magazine a firm place in literary history, was the publication of
eighteen segments of James Joyce's Finnegans Wake (at the time,
called simply Work in Progress).
In transition: A Paris Anthology brings together for the first time a
stunning collection of pieces drawn from the magazine's first and
most influential years, 1927-30. These early pieces by Beckett, Paul
Bowles, Kay Boyle, Braque, Calder, Hart Crane, G id e , Robert
Graves, Hemingway, Joyce, Jung, Kafka, Klee, Archibald Mac-
Leish, Man Ray, Miro, Picasso, Katherine Anne Porter, Rilke, Diego
Rivera, Gertrude Stein, and William Carlos W illiams, among many
others, still hold an enormous freshness and power. Intellectually
and visually compelling, In transition is a magnificent compen­
dium— the list of contributors a veritable who's who of this century's
greatest artistic and literary talent.

Cover photo: ©1990 a r s n .y ./a d a g p .

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