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Winter 1968 The aC rroll Quarterly, vol. 22, no. 2 John Carroll University

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Carroll Quarterly, a literary magazine produced by an undergraduate staff and written by the students, alumni, and faculty of John Carroll University, Univer­ sity Heights, Ohio. •' 196 by the Carroll Quarterly. All CQ rights reserved to authors. Volume 22 Winter, 196 umber 2

Editor-in-Chief RODERICK PORTEH

Assistant Editor WILLIAM DeLO G

Managing Editor JAMES L. :lvlcCHYSTAL Literary Editor PAUL E. HELTZEL

Poetry Editor MICHAEL PELLEGRI II

Art Editor GEORGE ~~IERCER

Copy Editor PATRICK \V. PEN OCK

General Editor GEORGE MACKEY

Circulation Manager KURT L. SHELLE 1BEH.GER

Associate Editor PAUL MYSLENSKI CHRISTOPHER SCI-IRAFF

Honorary Associate Editor HICHARD W. CLA CEY

Senior Contributing Editor JAMES F. i\lcCO !NELL JH..

Contributing Editors DENNIS M. FOGARTY GREGORY SCHOE JAMES I. O'CONNOR

Editorial Assistants RICHAH.D CLARK RICHARD TAYLOR JANET MO T\VIELEH

Faculty Advisor DAVID M. LaGUAH.DIA Contents

IT CRIES FOR MUSIC Joseph T. Cotter 5 TO PENELOPE P. E. H. 8 HOW MA Y BOYHOOD DAYS I PASSED WITH BOOKS G. L. Bronooe ...... 9 PIIOTOGRAPHS Paul C. Bailey- Gates . 10 PHOTOGRAPH Frank Poole 11 THE OWL AND THE HAWK, OH VAlUATIONS 0 A THEME OF IMPOSITION Robert A. Englert 12 MY LORD IS FULL OF DELIGHT Alice Keating 14 GOOD- ATURED CRITICS, DE 1ATURED CRITICS, A D JUDICIAL CRITICS Arther S. T race Jr . . 15 THERE WILL BE CHILDRE Michael Pellegrini ...... 20 APRIL IS OT THE CRUELLEST MO TH ]ames L . Bourke Jr...... 21 I THE CREE -SHROUD SEA ]ames L . Bourke ]r...... ·············· 22 SO NET: TO CHARLE1 E W alter Onk 23 PROBLEM: 1968 Dougald B. MacEachen 24 iA I MODER FICTIO : A REVIEW Roderick Porter ...... 25 UNTITLED William Butala ...... ············ ··· ···················· ···················· ················ 28 A PERSO AL A1 D PSYCHOLOGICAL BIOGRAPHY OF THE E 1PRESS ALEXANDRA fames F. McConnell Jr...... 29 MOO ]ames L. Bourke Jr...... ·············· 38 Here & There: speaks in soft tones of Lowelrs the View from No. 11, D.S. observation that "the dead don't say anything to the living." If it were It is with deep regret that we note another person, if it were not Anne the departure of two Quarterly S xton speaking, one would be em­ editors. Literary Editor Paul E. barrassed by the frankness of her Heltzel, completing his studies at the poetry, and the frankness of those University this month, is going on words she spoke to so many be­ to graduate studies. Poetry Editor wild red admirers here at Carroll. }.lichael Pellegrini, whose studies are taking him to Loyola College in At a time when poetry is silent, Rome for the spring semester, will Anne Sexton has given it a voice, one be on a leave of absence. The that can be enjoyed for its clear and Quarterly thanks both editors for intense beauty. their contributions to the success of • the publication. We are certain they A View of Values ... both deserve some sort of purple The problem of the end of litera­ heart for having to deal for so long ture is a part of any discussion of the (both are three-year staff members) value of a writer's work. J\Iulk Raj with an irrascible Editor and con­ Anand's novels, according to an essay tributors who were occasionally late by Encrlish professor Dr. largaret contributing. Berry entitled Mulk Raj Anand: the o persons have as yet been ap­ Man and the ovelist, are finally pointed to fill the vacancies. valuable for the witness they give of India's • agonizing attempt to break out H er poetry has an elegant wit, a of massive stagnation and create tension, and a great looming, if a society in which men and sometimes disturbing, talent behind women are free and equal, in it. She is skilled in her craft, but her which they can, therefore, live hold is not simply the splendid verbal dynamically and creatively ... mastery of her poetry. It is the force (for) the testimony they give of of a public, as well as a personal, a g neration of Indians familiar sense of the drama of her life. with the best and the worst of Anne Sexton is a beautiful woman. the West and with the b est and A fuller Anne Bancroft, she reads the worst of India . . . (for) the with a warm, almost wooden voice. evidence they afford of the And her reading was, perhaps, the modern educated Indian's strug­ most enjoyable ever pre ented by the gle to identify him elf and his Contemporary Poets Series. country in the context of modern Mrs. Sexton was a student of world society and to find roots Robert Lovvell at Boston University. that yet live in a mouldering In a relatively short time, she has heritage ... (and for) the search become th e most honored woman they pursue for a . . . principle poet in the United States. Without of unity ... which Anand knows stooping to the categorical, it is suf­ as blwkli. ficient to say that she concerns her­ This brief review will consider the self with love and death, with this value of the values in Mulk H.aj world a its victim would see it, and Anand's work as novelist.

-3- An ori ginal definition of what con­ As Dr. Berry ju tly criticizes, ),titutes excell ence in a novel is of­ Anand' doctrinaire aesthetic is stulti­ fered hy Dr. Berry: fying and misplaces the emphasi of A good novel present intercstin~ his efforts. We are not altogether and beli vahle human beings in certain that a writer cannot disregard reaction with their environment how men will understand his work so as to S11ggcst ri chly and in­ on ce the pol iti cal import of it has tensely the 1111 ivcrsal experiences disappeared. This is, again, the prob­ of man. lem of the uniH'r a] in lit erature. This definition tH111ircs that the end of the literary form of the no,·cl he 'I hC're is one other aspect of lo "suggest richly and intense!\' the .\ nand·s work that, as it were. tran­ universal experi ences of man.'; The StC'nds the difficulty of his too clo ·ely classical norm, th at literature's end t~ ing his no,·cls to this time and this is to c!Piight and to inform and placC'; and that is the search for the instruct hy imitating P.:ature, is per­ priiJc;ple of unity, or bhakti. Bhakti haps implied here; we arc not certain. H' ry closely resembles Christian love However, th e valu es of Anand's - charily - as Dr. Berry points out. novels fall short in three areas of the (ll is interesting th at Anand rejected norm of the definition posited in C hris ti anity, for the resembl ance as the essay. If a novel offers witne s a philosophical concept between of a country' stru ggle to break free charity and bhakti is incredible.) In of massive stagnation and create a presenting this search, Anand at­ free society, or testimony of a genera­ tempts to portray a wholeness in man tion of persons familiar with the be t that comprehends his goodness and of two worlds, as well as the worst his evil, hi personal development of two worlds, or evidence of a strug­ and his love for all men, his constant gle for a na tional identity, th en that problem of revivifying the necessary novel docs not suggest richly and forms and institutions that relate to intensely the universal experience of his life. H ere Anand approaches a man. \ V c may he accused of too universal problem - one that would narrowly limiting the scope of the h? familiar to St. Thomas Aquinas, universa l xpcri enccs of man, but Su· Isaac Tewton, l\Iulk Raj Anand, love, hate, 11assion disaust agony and presumably any future man; and ' b ' ) ),ea rching for knowledge and h·uth, familiar as well (and this is signifi­ good, and evil seem to us to provide cant) to almost any other man living the wides t possible range of experi­ now. D cpcndmg on how well Anand ence in which to ground good litera­ rc ·olves the problems of this search ture. .Insofar as the experiences of for bhakti, and th e abilities h can \n:md's novels arc primarily under­ bring to bear as a writer, Anand's standable in terms of a particu Jar work may survive as - if not great - ti me or place, or with a specific then certain ly good literatur . Tran­ poht1cal or sociological problem, their scendin g th e first three of th e four genuinene ·s as great literature fails, va lu es, Dr. Berry concludes, will and th ey arc doomed to be no more probably he too great a task, even than character pieces of a particular for the skill and talent of ;\Iulk Haj time in the rich panorama and history Anand. of literature. - Roderick PoTter

-4- "KENl\'EDY IS DEAD.'' The exhilarated proclamation c:amc two weeks before the event in Los Angeles. The assured prophet w:1s George Meany, perhaps gazing into the funhousc mirror of his own ego, perhaps mistaking the fl abby and toothless rcfl ction for the militant gho. t of the John L. Lewis of the \Vilkie campaign. No more vatic utterances were to be heard this year from the grave of the American labor movement. ~lr . :\lcany, who is said to be proud of ncv r having conduct d a strike, was las t seen limping in the Humphrey parade to miraculOIIS d feat. The prophet, who has some of the old-fashioned political grace and Irish charm of .Mayor Daley, spoke with th e deadly literalism of the D elphic oracle. Not only are two bea rers of the Kennedy image violently dead, but the image itself seems to have been in advertentl y des troyed as a real fa ctor in American life. During the fall campaign "illiam cranton r ported from a fact-finding mission made for Ri chard 'ixon, who is nothing if not open­ minded about public images, that Europeans were repelled by the "crude and incr dible" John on, that they could not buy the current model of ixo n. \,Yh at they wanted, with pathetic and desperate nostalgia in a time when mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, a time of riots and political murder, was John F . Kennedy, whom they considered "civilized and cultured -almost like a European." The deadly realiti es of the new age of dullncs · make clear to Am ricans how fanciful, bow foreign is the noti on of a revival of th e qualities which Europeans associate with John Kennedy or even the special kind of passionate commitment manifest in the last days of Hobert Kennedy. The irrelevance of either Kennedy image to th e new day, when justi ce i · to be viewed as "incidental to law and order," is cs tabli heel in th e fact that either sacred name could be invoked, according to need, by th e candidates - not only by Humphrey and ' ixon, but even George \Vallacc. Th usc of the Kennedy icon had become as meaningless and as unscrupulous as waving a fl ag. But, in a year of extensive flag-b urning, its usc in th e campaign docs sugg st the value of the Kennedy im age, at least in the mincls of politicians, as a substitute symbol of unification, perhaps as an anesthetic for the violent impulses of desperate minorities, or as an antidote for the ill iberal pattern of the nationality vote or the mindless disengagement of the ?\cw Left or the rowdy disenchantment of those who think of themselves as American Youth or the bootsh·ap mythology by which newly ·'aHluent"' suburbanites and blue coll ar bigots attempt to xpungc th e economic and social sham of their own pas t. -5·- One almost forgotten element of the pristine Kennedy image before Dallas came to life again in the brief journalistic interlude, the royal masque of the maniage of Jacqueline Kennedy to an archetypal figure who seemed, in the eyes of an expectcdly puritan and disturbingly pruri nt audience, to be a classic Greek translation of Bunyan's Sir Having Greedy of Vanity Fair. It all came back. In a season wh n "a rough beast, its hour come at last," slouched out of Yorba Linda toward the \Vhite IIou e, it all came back to public consciousness - days and nights as remote as Versailles or the Cafe Hoyal. The thousand days of Kennedy high comedy: the drama of good manners and understated self-mockery; the fete champetre at ~ I ount Vernon, a triumph of elegance and DDT; the busy swimming pool at Hickory Hill; Leonard Bernstein weeping like a Restoration gallant at the presence of Pablo Casals in a refurbished White H ouse once hallowed by the command performances of Fred vVaring and Tommy the Cork; art, cu isine, and good tailoring; happy press ccnferences and boating mishaps; the unabashed pride in "having had a good war" and the charmed peace and poverty workers on the lawn; Caroline's pony and the first lady hurtling from a hesitant horse over a hunt-club fence. The Kennedy co medy of manners was an all too temporary tri umph over the normal American preference for the more deeply rooted, more native comedy of humors, whi ch is now back on the road: frontier boorishness now updated into a political and academic tacti c, programmed responses now turned into policy, and the neub·alis t social pallor of corporate types moving, with carefully unregional accents, from defros ted meatloaf to the expense­ account splurge. High comedy is as remote as Camelot. The ex tent to which th e relevance of the Kennedy image has been shattered by th e nu mbing consequences of two p e>in tl ess acts of th e p ublic violence of ou r ti me is suggested when one exami.ncs what Kennedy admirers in 1963 thought the image was. An essay written fo r th e Quarterly after Dall as saw the im age as a calculated one, consciously projected at least to the degree th at any public personali ty is. On th e other hand, the Kennedy image was seen, in the context of th e time, as a courageous challenge to the images whi ch had worked for politicians in an earlier decade of dullness - "cloyin g togetherness, amiable mediocrity, and simplistic belligerence." These had been especiall y effecti ve in a political period dominated by old men on executive pension and yo ung fogies tryin g to get a piece of the sa me corporate and country-clu b action. The three phrases, so patronizingly repudiated in the thousand days, have, it is now clear, taken new wing and in 1968 have come home to the public-relations roost. "Cloying togeth erness, amiable mediocrity, and simplistic belligerence" seem, with some updating, a summary of the cam­ paign styles of the surviving candidates of 1968 - D emocratic, Hcpublican, and American Sl ob. In the homey gaucheri e of this electi on year we saw the aged Democratic device of convenient togeth erne s fo r strange bedfellows become brutal and shrill ; we saw the old Republica n nostrum of Coolidge mediocrity become a permanent in tant replay of organized ball oons and drill majorettes moved to pubertal frenzy to shield the faceless candidate from

-6- public questions. Even the \\ allace crowd, remaining generall y loyal to the old American simplicities, reduced the crudity of unaba heel hatred and social terror to a special language. For the Kennedy image it has been a rough, although not altogether destructive, fi ve years. The firs t open and shattering blow, a distinguished from the polysyllabic niping of William Buckley and the magpie scholarship of Victory Lasky, came in the sad comedy of errors incidental to the publica­ tion of Willi am :\1anches ter's book. H owever, until the long day's journey between St. Patrick's and Arl ington Cemetery, a large public nurtured a comforting anticipation of an updated Camelot - less social and aesthetic, but even more lively and athletic. The paradox ical measure of our half­ conscious expectation that this was a comforting but impossible dream was the tragic acceptance, by practically everyone who cared, of the inevitability, by one bizarre and graceless means or another, of Robert Kennedy's destruction. So, on a bright W ednesday morning we settled down to TV for a new production of an old show, laying in an adequate supply of snacks and feeli ng more than sli ghtly uneasy about not being shocked into the wordless grief of the first time. The media (a word that has become ugly and sin gular in the five years) went into rehearsed doomsday with a clown mayor, show-biz anecdotalists, Irish poets, and appreciati ve profess ional reviews of the music and ritual. The old Kennedy hands showed for the last time, in a not unnoted parody of the Cuban crisis , th eir unmatched skill at coalescing to improvise splendor and to provide occasions for national catharsis. \\ e each have a number of scenes we can never fo rget and do not want to forget. It was a national happening that worked. The Camelot image was a fus ion of what Robert Frost call ed Hm·vard and Irish. It is hardly remembered now tl1at ilie mos t important fact about Jolm Kennedy before the ixon debates was that he was not only a Roman Cailiolic, but Irish; indeed, one Indiana evangelist after a quiet encounter in a courtl1ouse conidor pictured him as an "Irish roughneck," presumably Studs Lani gan in a Brooks-Brothers suit. On the otl1 er hand, Mr. ixon, who in blood is equally Irish, suffered by his resemblance to everyone's idea of a YMCA secretary addressing the good fellows of a men's bible class. In any case, 1960 was probably the las t year that the American People of God felt ilie need to be on their best ecclesias tical behavior before a Protestant majority. What Frost meant, of course, was tl1e alliance in an individual of ilie Boston line of paternalisticall y rutl1less Irish "leaders" and the Boston Brahmin sense of the political vocation of the beautiful rich. Mayor Daley's archaic and ponderous cuteness, in packing galleri es for his own acclaim and in smoiliering ilie belligerent aftermath of the Kennedy tribute at tl1 e 1968 convention by staging a hurried ceremony for iartin Luther King, has, I think, des troyed whatever atb:activeness tl1e Irish-mafi a side of the Kennedy image ever had. The jowls of complacency, brutality, and stupidity can no longer be concealed from even tl1e mos t sentimental. The Brahmin side remains as something we properly miss . It was invoked

-7- with some success by Edward Kennedy to win back some of the ethnic and blue collar voters who had been prepared to vote their prejudices. The two dead Kcnnedys aimed, in ewman's won.ls, "at raising the intellectual tone of society, at cultivating the public mind, at purifying the national taste, at supplying true principles to popular enthusiasm and fixed aims to popular aspiration, at giving enlargement and sobriety to the ideas of the age, at facilitating the exercise of political power, and refining the intercourse of private life." In terms of government the Brahmin side means the presence in national power of educated gentlemen to dominate and control the servile operatives - the blinkered technicians, the social engineers, t.l1 e glorified cops, the economic seers, the payroll mecters, and the military tradesmen. In 1963 that seemed to many of us what we were about to lose. 'vVe had no idea how great the loss or even the memory was to be in five succeeding years of verbal and military overkill. Perhaps Robert Kennedy's peculiar portion of the Kennedy image is closer to the memory and aspiration of a new time. By birth he ranked " ' ith the most noble, but unto the poor Among mankind he was in service bound, As by some tic invisible, oaths professed To a religious order. Man he loved As man; and, to the mean and obscure, And all the homely in their hom ly works, Transferred a courtesy which had no air Of condescension; but did rather seem A passion and a gallantry .. . - JOSEPH T. COTTER

•

To Penelope

Who? Me? Lo ue you? You're a frog. I am a toad I am told. The Kierkegaarclian leap? - P.E.H.

-8- How Many Boyhood Days I Passed V{7ith Bool~s

How many hmjlwod days I passed u;ith books To drea m th e cold away, u;lwt pageantry Of captured damsels hid in castle-nooks Waiting for Lancelot to set them free; How many storied seas I sa iled to fl ee Tl1 e quiet, fri endless hours, to isles of treasure; Those tales are now, like fallen leave , debris, Y et manlwod's sweet, for bu a rose I measure The fl eeting hours of life, and from it reap my pleasure. Though greater priced are pearls encased in gold, Though ri cher hues of red a rubu shows, Though Persian silks a brighter sheen unfold, What other gift so simplu ca n disclose A looer's heart as will a ingle rose? Yet scarcely is it prized before it fades: All dreams are such; this blood-red blossom blows A moment in the wind with green stalk blades, And while it breathes, no sweeter scent the air pemades.

- G. L. BH.A CAE

-9- PHOTOGHAPHS by Paul C. Bailey- Gates

- 10 - PI-IOTOGRAPH by Frank Poole

- 11 - T'he Owl and the Haw!?-> 01' Variations on a T'heme of Imposition

In Birddom all is harmony in caste: Between the wren and eagle is a uast And all-inclusice pitch which Wisdom made. Nor does the tcren attempt to flu tchere she'll invade The sky the eagle calls his own. Nor will The eagle deign to dine or soar or fill His solitary crag with twitting wrens. "Each to each," they say, andmoks and hens And geese and clucks and claws and jays and owls Respect the universal laws for fowls. Not so old Hawk, who says to Owl, "Poor thing, Why can't you be like me and hang on wing Out-st1·etched: a spider in a sun-spun web? I fly alone, a solitary reb! Ancli can see! So clear in morning air Through ememld eyes that far is near, ancllair Of weasel, fox, or hare is crystal-clear; And nothing needs but fold, and fall, and hear The scream of air, the cold and crystal air Against my eye. "And what do you but sit and stare Ancl say 'Whoo-hoo,' and turn yam head And blink and blink, and never would get feel Unless some clum y mouse comes stumbling by? If you could learn to climb your tree, you'd never need to fly!"

- 12- Owl blinked, and cried, "flo-lwm," and finally said, "You critici::;e the u;ayi turn mu head, ~Iy face, my eyes, my wice, are all too tame. Y ou'd like for me to see li fe as a game ·where savoir fa irc and joic de vivre are all. I've played that game, and nothing seems so small To me as owl who deems it tcise to do The things peculiar to a hawk: fly through The sky in sun-time, l;lind his eyes in glare I-I e was not meant to see, and then is bare To er.;e ry gawking stare. Ilumility lias its limits, fri end. I am not fr ee To go without a catch. If I should fail, The owlets starve. And so I must curtail An appetite I must confess I lost Vlhen first I tasted weasel and 1 tossed My cookies all over the tree. Rabbit Is stringy, and I don't have the habit Of hunting iust for spoTt. A mouse is nice And tender, easy to digest, no vice Engenders; yet I I hink it will suffice. As foT my eyes, 1 see enough to make M e glad that I'm an owl; and if you take Offense because that's not enough for you, R em ember that I've no desiTe, in few, To change one wit tu-whoo. E1wugh for m e If you'll remain a hawk eternally, And look, and look, for that you cannot see. But if some clay the clouds should block youT view, Of if the woods here fonn a wall for you, Come sit with m e upon this ancient tree, And see with me the little that I see."

-ROBERT A. E GLERT

-13- My Lord Is l,'ull of Delight*

Our babies tumble Fretfully In the country of his arms. My Lord invites me To laugh, Yet his eyes Mark the hour of truth. The gentian cries Blueness. In the paling evening, My Lord calls me To be - And covered with soft sleepiness, W e lie down in the breathing wincls.

-ALICE KEATI G

*from tl1e Chinese Shih ching (Book of Songs)

- 14- Good-Natured Critics) D enatzl1·ed Critics) and Judicial Critics

ISTORIANS of modern criti­ natured critic , d natured critics, and H cism tend to classify modern judicial critics. Briefly, the good­ critics into various categories ac­ natured critic is concerned primarily cording to thei1· special int rests in to call attention to the strengths and literature. Thus we have historical excellences of the work he is writing critics, biographical critics, social about and to share his enthusiasm for critics, Marxist critics, formalist them with the r ader. He is a good­ critics, Freudian critics, anthropologi­ natured critic primarily because he cal critics, textual critics, and o on. doc n't write about works he doesn't Such categories indeed give us a like, or if he does, he tend to write good notion of the variety of ap­ only about the part · he likes of th e proaches which modern critics have works he doesn't like. H e is roughly offered up to the study of literature, equivalent to tl1 c "appreciative" critic and in many ways they suggest an except that he tends to appreciate advance over the far less sophisti­ only works which arc already widely cated methods of European critics appreciated. writing in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In fact, modern The denatured critic, on the otl1cr critics have become so sophisticated hand, is concerned primarily not with in their various approaches that we th e su·engths and excellences of the tend to assume that we cannot learn work - or with the weakne ses either much from these older critics. - but rath er with an attempt to ex­ plain what tl1 e work is about, either I would like to suggest, however, by referring it to its historical or that there is a good deal that modern social or literary milieu or to its critics can learn from the practical author's life or mind or spirit, or he critics of the past, and to suggest, in may simply be interested in giving fact, that modern criticism, despite its an explication or exegesis of the apparent vitality, has been seriously work, pointing out the relationship of weakened from the failure to learn the various parts, tryi ng to tlu·ow from them. In order to do so, I would some light on the obscurity of the like to propose a new and simpler language or th e thought or explaining category of practical critics which whatever else seems to need explain­ would consist of tlu·ee sorts: good- ing. H e is a d natured critic because

Editor's note: "Good-natmed Critics, Denatured Critics, and judicial Critics" is part of a book entitled The FutuTe of Literature being written by Arther S. Trace Jr., Ph.D., Professor of English at John Carroll University.

-15- he is not interested primarily in such observations are usually irrele­ whether the work is any good or not, vant to what he is doing. And the i.e., in the human value of the work, judicial critic regularly makes use of though he tends to assume that it is his learning to explain a work which good, especially if it was written by he is judging and from time to time an established writer. The denatured shares his enjoyment of the work critic aims chiefly to establish certain with the reader, just as the good­ more or less verifiable facts relating natured critics do. None the less, in one way or another to the work, these categories remain surprisingly fa cts which may or may not clarify distinct, and almost all practical its meaning. critics can be pretty well categorized The judicial critic writes about a in this fashion. work not primarily witl1 the idea of But the e distinctions take on their sharing his enthusiasms for the beau­ greatest significance only in the light tics of the work or primarily of ex­ of the history of practical criticism plaining what it means in relation to as it developed in Europe and Ameri­ the author's time or life or mind, or ca, and it is only in the light of the what it means even without relation history of practical criticism that the to these considerations, but rather specific character of modern criticism with the aim of determining how can he fully understood. good or how bad the work is and why. Ilc regards it as his most In a sense Thomas Rymer may be solemn obligation as a critic to point said to be the fatl1 er of practical criticism, for he was the first to make out where the author erred as well a standard practice of examining as where he did well because he literary works systematically and in thinks that in so doing he can offer a corrective to the art of the author detail, and he did much to spark tl1e practical criticism of such critics as and to the taste of the reader, such as the good-natured and denatured critic Jeremy Collier, Charles Gildon, Elkanah Settle, and John Dennis. do not do. He also calls attention to Their analytical criticism in tum led the worthy works of unrecognized to that of Joseph Addison, Leonard writers as well as to the unworthiness of the works of writers who have \Velstcd, George Sewell, William been unduly praised. The judicial Duff, James Upton, Joseph and critic i like the real estate appraiser Thomas \Varton, Samuel Johnson, and other eighteenth century English who examines a piece of property not merely to admire it or to measure it, analytical critics. The e critics and but to appraise it. others like them on the continent e tahlished once and for all the wide­ 'ow, obviously, there is some over­ spread practice of examining literary lapping of these categories, because works in detail, both in Europe and the goocl -natur d critic usually feels later in America, a practice which that he has to do some explaining accounts for perhaps upwards of before he can do much appreciating, ninety per cent of the literary criti­ though he rarely does any depreci­ cism being written today. ating; similarly, the denatured critic To w virtually all of the important from time to time ventures his opin­ practical critics writing in England in ion as to whether what the author the later seventeenth centmy and has written is good or bad, though much of tl1e eighteenth century, both

- 16 - in England and on the continent, finall y, he himself points ou t that "no were judicial critics rather than good­ English author of any note has com­ natured or denatured critics, i.e., they mended o many English Poets as I thought of their functi on primaril y as have. I shall give a list of sonw of calling attention to both the beauties them: Shakcspcar, Ben Johnson, and the faults of literary works with :'-.1 il ton, Butler, Hoscommon, Denham, a view to indicating to authors and \ Va ll r, Dryden, \Vyclw rl ey, tway, readers alike what should be avoid d Ethercge, haclwcll , Crown <'. Con­ and what emulated. greve, and Phillips." The judicial critic who perhap D ennis's criticism belong of our e best epitomizes the judicial spirit of to the beauties-and-faults school of literary criticism is John D ennis. criticism which grew oul of neo­ Dennis wa · not only the first pro­ clas ical critical practice. But between fessional critic to make a living as a the li me of th e publica tion of Thomas criti c but he was almost universall y Hymer's Tragedies Of The La t Age regarded as the greatest literary critic Considered in 1678 and about 1740, of his time. by which time Dennis was d ad, nco­ Th re can be no mistaking Dennis's classical critics, parti ularly in Eng­ view of the fun cti on of the literary land, tended to cmpha izc th e fa ults critic. The critic, says Dennis, "de­ of th e literary works in questio n and signs to detect and disgrace E rrour, to pay somewhat less attenti on lo the to disclose and honour Truth; he beautie . During th e course of the designs th e Advancement of a noble eighteenth century, however, more Art; and by it the int res t and glory and more attention was paid lo the of his native country, which d pencls beauties of literary work and less in no small mea ure upon the flour­ and less allcntion lo their faults, so ishing of the arts." Probably no critic th at even Samuel Johnson's insist nee has worked harder or more zealously upon pointing out the faults of to "detect and disgrace Errour" than indi vidual poems in the ·pirit of Dennis himself, for he was convinced a truly judicial crilici. m may seem that "Poets would grow Negligent if reacti onary. the Critic has not a stri ct eye on th eir This gradual decline of judicial i\liscarriages." criticism was due largely lo the j ohn D ennis may be thought of as advent of th e idea of the natural a watchdog of poetry. H e carefully goocln e ·s of man, as opposed to the guarded the Temple of Poetry against tradit io nal Christi an view th at man th e untalented who sought admission, is by nature morall y corrupt at birth and whil e it i true th at he occa­ or the much later Cah inistic view sionall y bit th e leg of a few poets tha t man is totall y depraved at h irth. who actually lived there (Pope in Th literary theory which evolved particular was bitten regularly and from this new look at man's moral badly) and licked th e hand of a few nature tended to place more empha­ th at did not, he by and large did his sis upon ori ginal geniu rath er than job well. To the charge that he was upon ori gin al sin. Since this new view an ill-natured critic, D ennis pointed of man held th at his emotions were out th at "it is the most reasonable both good and trust\ orthy, the r - thing in the world to distinguish good lease of th e poet's emotions through writers by discomaging bad." And literature was considered more cer-

-17- tain to produce great literature than ary critics writing today, for the more the poet's efforts to understand his modem criticism one reads the more emotions. Thus th e critic's function one is forced to the truth of the c:ame more and more to be to admire observation by Stanley H yman in his the originality and genius of original book The Armed Vision that "evalu a­ geniuses and less and less to consider tion . . . has largely atrophied in the whether the poets were really either serious criticism of our time." (p. 4) ori ginal or geniuses. And so the era The spiri t of good-natured criticism of the good-natured critic wa born. has indeed won the day. The spirit of good-natured criticism But, the good-natured critic was today is perhaps most accurately also joined some thirty or forty years stated in a little book by Helen ago by the denatmed critic. The rise Gardner entitl d The Business Of of denatured criticism is a complex Criticism. A hint of her position is in phenomenon. It stems in part from her observation that "the rudiment of the fact that as the doctrine of self­ criticism is not so much the power to expression came more and more to distinguish any good poem from any dominate literary th eory and practice bad poem, as the power to respond th e authors felt less and less respon­ to a good poem and to he able to sible to th eir audience, and found elucidate its signifi cance, beauty, and themsck cs fr ee to express themselves meanin g in terms which arc valid for in in creasingly obscurantist and even oth er readers." (p. 4) unintelligible ways; so that by th e In another place :\l iss Gardner ea rly decades of th e present century ex plicitly repudiates the idea that much poetry and so me fiction had li terary critics "should keep a strict become "difficult" indeed. Thus, the eve over the Miscarriages of our critics had to spend more and more Au thors," as Thomas Rymer put it, of th eir energies trying to understand or that they should "detect and dis­ and explain what the work was grace E rrour" as John D ennis put it. about, and many of them died before ''Criti cs," she says, "are wise to leave they understood well enough what it alone those works whi ch they feel a was about to wri te any good-natured ca ll to defl ate." (p. 6) In still another criticism about it or to find out place in the first chapter of this little whether what they had spent so hook Miss Gardner refers to an alle­ much ti me on was any good or not. gory by Samuel Johnson in whi ch Certainly, they almost never con­ L iterary Criticism bears the scep tre cluded th at tl1 e li terary work was whi ch was given her by Jus ti ce and bad on the grounds that they could the torch which was manufactured not understand it. by Labor and lighted by Truth. But other factors besides the in­ Applyin g this all egory to herself Miss creased "difficulty" in modern litera­ Gardner states fl atl y, "[ do not feel ture contributed to the rise of the any call to wield the sceptre." (p. 14. denatured critic. In addition, a whole Itali cs Miss Gardner's) group of specialists with primarily :Vliss Gardner is not, of course, ex tra-literary interes ts were let loose speaking offi ciall y for anyo ne but to plu nder literature fo r its secret her elf, but it would appear that she meanings. These included sociolo­ is speaking unofficially for a vast gists, psychologists, psychoanalyists, majority of the most influential liter- biographers, philologists, historians,

-18- anthropologist , and so on, whose all the emphasis upon understanding, work more or less i commonly re­ we are in danger of slipping from garded as literary criticism, even understanding to mere explanation though most of it represents de­ If we overempha izc enjoyment, natured criticism in its purest form, we will tend to fall into the ubjec­ i.e., it is purely scholarly inquiry tive and imprcssioni tic . . . Thirty­ rather than genuinely critical inquiry. five years ago, it se ms to have been Thus, virtually all the literary the latter type of critici m, the im­ critics writing today appear to be pre sionistic, that had caused us either good-natured critics - includ­ annoyance ... Today it seems to me ing even the ew Critics, who, that we need to be more on guard despite their remarkable talents, have against the purely explanatory." (On for the mo t part carried on the spirit Poetry and Poets, p. 131) Generally of the good-natured critics of the last speaking, Eliot i himself a pretty century-or denatured critics. Stanley good-natured critic, but there is much Hyman seems to be quite right in to suggest that he may be right in also observing in The Armed Vision thinking that the denatured critic that Yvor ' Vinters is virtually the have replaced the good-natured only critic today who is keeping critics as th dominant force in mod­ cvalnaton in criticism ali ve, even ern criticism. though he treats ' Vinters' criticism This triumph of good-natured and very unkindly indeed. For who denatured criticism over judicial criti­ among our most influential critics, cism raises some crucial questions apart from " ' inters, can be said to about the nature and function of be writing truly judicial criticism? literary criticism generally and of Cleanthe Brooks? Al len Tate? Ken­ modern criticism in particular. Among neth Burke? R. P. Blackmur or them arc the fo llowincr: Is either criti­ William Empson or John Crowe cism or literature losing anything by Ran om? Edmund ' Vi lson, Lionel the fact that our most serious critics Trilling, H erbert Reed, or John generally avoid criticizing? Does the Livingston Lowes? Maud Bodkin, general demis of the genuinely judi­ Leslie Fiedler, or Caroline Spurgeon? cial critic have any effect upon the Others? It should be remembered too health of modern literature, i.e., does that a critic does not become a judi­ bad literary practice beget bad liter­ cial critic merely by interrupting his ary practi ce? Is it better for the good-natured or denatured criticism literary critic to break the sceptre, to write against some novel or play and if so, can he still bear the torch or poem that he doesn't like. Genu­ to use the figure Miss Helen Gardne;. inely judicial criticism stems from a refers to? Is the super-abundanc of particular habit of mind and a dif­ good-natured and denatured critics ferent understanding of the function sapping the vitality of mod rn literary criticism? Are good-natured of criticism than these critics appear critics performing only part of their to have. functions as critics? Ought we to H ow fully literary criticism is now make a much sharper distinction in the hands of our good-natured and between pure scholarship and genu­ denatured critics is suggested by an ine criticism than we are making now? observation of T. S. E liot where he However one ans'vvers these ques­ says: "If in literary criticism we place tions one may yet say that if judicial

- 19 - critics like D <'n nis and Johnson- and walk in through the front door in \\'int rs- are the watchdogs of Lady hroad daylight, where Lady Poetry Poetry, ther<' is much to suggest that remains inside defenseless, fearing for Lhe typical modern critic today is Lady h r life and with only her poodle dog Poetry's poodle dog, who lets pass to comfort her. The occa ional yap of the true inhabitants and the inter­ the poodle is hardly enough to scare lopers alike• into the T<'mple of the intruders away. Poetry, and who spends rnosl of hi· time Lm ning o\·cr his mistress and 1f Thomas Rymer and John D ennis cuddling warmly in her lap, and thus were living in our time, they would leaves the temple door unguarded. feel impelled to write a book a month i\ncl yet there is mt1 ch to suggest too in order merely to identify the that in the past forty or fifty years modern literary monstrosities which the Temple of Poetry is more than our modem critics are busy either ever before being besieged h y sinister praising or explaining or ignoring. and dangerous intruders; that some Ours is indeed an age of poodle-dog criticism. have been climbing in through the windows at night, and some often - ARTHER S. TRACE JR. • There Tif7 ill B e Child1-en

There w ill be children, Under the night lamps, Laughing in the cool air Of a closing summer. The first leaves will be Upon the street, Brown at the veined tips, But gTeen with air still Moist w ith the juice of life. And in every embrace OuT passions will Quiver, and Shake, and Reveal the underside Of ouT existence, And our leaves upon The street Will be caught in a Cold waft, and gone, T hey will fly out Of our clark, (mel Solid arms. - ;vnCHAEL PELLEGRI I

- 20 - April Is Not the Cruellest A1 onth

April is not the cruellest month. It is ovember when the wind sucks the blood fr om the veins of leaves, hurls them earthward to burn and tum to mulch for some future fertile season. Now this is no season to sow a child. Wombs Cl're dry and dusty like fi elds cra cked and fun·owed fot lack of watet. o. Better to wait for April; ovember is no fri end to the new.

-JAMES L. BOURKE JR.

-21- In the Green-shroud Sea

In the green-shroud sea the great ship rolls, sways with her mainmast burden. It is Budd, the foretopman, makes her roll so, makes the world roll so - when goodness hangs from a tree somewhere in nowhere and all eyes turned, while the ship rolls, the world rolls, upward where suspended, hangs and sways in vertigo, all of us, on a tree, somewhere in nowhere, waiting to be cut clown and buried with a hiss, in forgetfulness.

-JAMES L. BOURKE JR.

- 22 - Sonnet: to Cha1-lene

The murmured bree::.e reminding me you'm near To spark the embers glowing out the pain Upon a crusted hea rth of wrinkled fear Just winks and brings th e dri :::,zle of the min. And if the crystal wind has eyes to see Beyond the mirror face that I must wear, I cannot keep the wind from knowing me, My true reflection hid behind a stare. While you as quick as fire can comprehend Why raindTOps gla:::,e my cheeks with magic grace, It's only gratefulness 1 own to spend When laughing celebrations w e embrace. A crumbled wall became the Sculptor's mud; Two artists traced eternity in blood.

-WALTER 0 TK

-23- Problem: 1968

How to wear His fa cial hair Makes him despair. A beard, moustache, sideburns, H e tried them all, combined, by tums. None seemed just right; 1'. one pleased his sight. II e wished his fa ce Of hair Was bare.

- DOUGALD B. MacEACHE

- 24 - ""1 an zn Modern ~'iction: a R eview

Man In Modern Fiction: Some view of man" must be, Fuller con­ Minority Opinions On ContemporaTy tinues, if not a thesi , then at least a American Fiction, by Edmund Fuller, premise, "whether declared or tacit, 171 pp., Random House (1958). A ... con cious or unconscious ... " (7) discussion of current American fiction This premi e is the author's vi w in light of the great traditions of of the moral nature of man, of which literatme with a view to the value of views Fuller can find basically only literatuTe as a valid and potent form three. The first, labell ed the Judeo­ of human expression. Chri tian-Hellenic h·adition, is em­ bodied in the "literature from the * * H ebrews and Homer down to the DMU D FULLER is a critic early part of the present century ... " E obviously disturbed about some­ (7 -8) and is grounded firmly upon thing amiss in current fiction. He is th e "tacit or declared premise that also sceptical of the general willing­ there is a God," (8) with all the ness of the majority of other critics ramifications att ndant on man - as and writers to accept the solution to creature, free-willed, morally re­ the literary malaise which he suggests sponsible, and intelligent; a in a they have stumbled into. At stake, relationship to that God. In this view, Fuller's book implies, is the value man is a unique person, inherently and the future of literature as a valid imperfect, with immense possibilities and potent form of human ex'})ression. for redemption and reconciliation with God. This creature is never "All fiction," Fuller writes, "is a wholly determined in any one tate comment upon th e life and nature of or condition. "Man is not portray d man - though not necessarily con­ as either good or bad, but as both sciously so . It cannot help being such good and bad." (10) inasmuch as varying concepts and projections of the nature of man are A second view of the moral nature the subject of all literature. The of man, which has profoundly af­ writer cannot be wholly coherent, as fected modern literature, is ba eel on artist, unless he possesses a wholly the romantic h·adition of i\IA coherent view of man to inform, illu­ (Full er's emphasis). Man is here a minate, and integrate his work." being who is "biologically accidental, (Man in Modern Fiction, p. 7. Here­ self-sufficient, self-perfectible, moral­ inafter, all uch "footnotes" will be ly answerable only to his social con­ accompanied with only the number h·acts." (10-11) In some instances in of the page from Man in Modern this view, man a sumes the stature Fiction.) At the root of this "coherent of God.

-25- Finally there is a corollary view Fuller stands solidly and \\'ith which which is in effect the reverse of the he proposes to arrest the literary "fiction of :\IA r." This is the view malaise of much of modern fiction. of man as a "biological accident, The \\'Orth of a writer as writer is inadequate, aimless, meaningless, iso­ determined by his own attitudes on lated, inherently evil, . . . morally man's moral nature and the particular answerable to no one, clasped in the sympathies or antipathies he de­ vise of determinism ... " (ll) Fuller \'elops in his characters. contends that the writ r who ac­ The larger part of Alan in M odern cepted the view of :\1A:\ as inherent­ Fiction i an analysis of peculiarities ly good - frustrated increasingly by of modern fiction in the light of the the obvious evil in that ~IA0J 's world belief of modern writers about man's and person - could see no other way moral nature. The "new compa sion" out of his dilemma but by rch·eating (which borders on the ludicrous and to the opposite extreme; hence the would become for F uller downright corollary view. silly except for the seriousness of its Fuller asserts that the great "con­ moral consequences) simply equates tinuing, immemorial theme of the a person's degradation with compas­ writ r ... (is) the explorations of his sion. Thus there emerges the "genial own nah1rc." (64) Depending on his rapist, the jolly slasher, the fun-loving view of the moral nature of man, dope pusher." (33) Compassion, in which can be more or less cate­ the traditional view of man as ap­ gorized by adherence to one of the plied to literature, is "discernment of above-mentioned views, the writer the gap between the man that is and will produce good or "un-good" the potential man that was ... (and literature, with the possibility of requires) a large and generous view mediocre writing b ing encompassed of life and a eli tinct standard of by various degrees of acceptance of values." (34) one of the views of man's moral nature, and the use and q uality of a In somevvhat the same manner particular wiiter's technical skill . modern fiction has lost its willingness to express a given set of values, and To become a discerning critic, and prefers rather to let "popular tastes" to be able to judge literature a dictate values, without regard for basically good or "un-good" becomes their real worth. The problem of the for F uller to accept the traditional writer today "is not the impersonal Jucleo-C hristian-H cllenic view of the one of absence of values, but is the moral nature of man, and to evaluate everlasting private one of acceptance a particular work in the light of that or rejection, of tl1e choice of values." view as expressed or represented by (50-51) Today's writer - hampered the author. The presentation of the by h is inabiL ty to see Lfe in a full full, total, and richly experienced life sense, cannot make a decision. For of man, with all its subtlety and simplicity, plurality and oneness, F uller tl1e question for the modern good and evil, is the highest achieve­ writer is "H ow can I, the writer, ment of the artist as writer of fi ction, express a particular set of values? If and is only possible within the struc­ all men are totally, really good, then tures of the h·aditional view of man's there is no need to express one. If moral nature, behind which Edmund all men are totally evil, tl1en obviously

- 26 - the values I derive arc inclcvant Concomitantly, e'\ual disorder he­ and evil." comes incrcasinglv more in order. \ Yoman is a "n,: el for male usc." The next problem for Fuller is the loss of imagination in imaginative (121) Fuller objects to this in litera­ ture; his quarrel, he ·ays, is "not writing, seen in the increasing u e of clinical terms and other to suffice against portraying the disorder - it for words to express a fu ll er view of i · against fai ling to recognize the life. If the artist's view of life is not disorder for what it is and fai ling to so fully open as the traditional Judeo ­ ha\·e some vision . . . of a proper state for m:m's sexuality." (121) "A Christian-Ilellcnic one would allow, writ r" Full t>r savs, "who himself his vocabulary shrinks because many words express relati ons and aspects, holds 'this concept: or who can see and subtl eti es of relations and aspects, and portray no other, may be able to of life that simply do not exist for the accomplish va riou things, hut he will never be able to paint for u the writer of l\ IA 1 or his corollary. T he view of animal man necessaril y re­ living portrait of a woman, or to duces the possibiliti es of experi ence project a true and tot·d union he­ in the human life. T here i.; still ex, tween a man and his mate.·· (12 1) but where can th ere be love? T here I< ull er sp nels a brief essay on is still brutali ty, hut where can there Joyce and objects to his concept _o f be jus tice? There is still evil , but total inner communication and 1ts where can there be hop e? T here is lack of communicatio n to any other sti ll calcul ating and self-centered per on. T his lack of commun ication reason, but where can th ere be faith? is for Fuller the prostitution of the A h ighpoint of the book is the genre. discussion of the modern degradation F inall v F ullcr demonstrates criti­ of woman in litera ture. Sex has been cism go;1 c bad in the \ Vhytc rev iew reduced from its fullest importance. of the novel Caine i\lutiny. H erman "Sex, in fulfillment, is not fun , but is \ Vo uk's mos t lasting achievement, ecsta tic, a condition of exultation and F uller suggests, in this novel is his pleasure at the threshold of pain, so totall y human - omplex in tha t they that conversely sex without a true arc both good and evil - characters, un ion of fulfillment can be a t the ex pressin g within themselves (as least a desolation and at the worst an Quecg docs) the human p aradox agony and ang ui sh." (129) And again: which a] o ser\'CS as the human "There are two great facet of ex in conditio n - the presence in man of th e life of man. It is both unitive and both good and evil , and his lifelong procreati ve - a nd it is these things struggle to act in a phys ical world in above and beyond anything else that a moral order. \ Vithout the realiza­ ca n be made of it." ( 117) Since the ti on and acceptance of that, man only modern writer in many cases will not dcliiC1es hi mself and, fo r F uller, pro­ accept this (how can he?) woman duces "ungood," tha t is, downright becomes in effect nothing else but an bad, literature. object of purely phys ical gratification and the "cult of the brothel" develops. - HODERICK POHTER

-27- Untitled

She bumed uery near to the edge of my eye with a glitter that challenged stars and the gold of her laughter startled the darkness and dancing she thrilled tl1 e dwnb sky till the shadow that slept deep by a lash stiTred from its musing and blushed l1 er away.

- \\'lLLIAM BUTALA

- 2& - A PeTsonal and Psych ological Bioc,Taphy of the l ~n~pr ess Alexandra

Introduction The fall of Imperial Hussia was a titanic drama in which the incli\'idual des tinies of thousands of men all played thcir part. Yet in making allowances for the impersonal flow of historic forces, in counting the contributions made by ministers, peasants and revolutionari es, it still remains essential to undcr­ stand th character and motivation of the central figures. To the Empress Alexandra Fedorovna this und rstanding has never been given. - Hobert K. Massie

I. THE EARLY YEARS her buoyant smile appeared I ss frc­ 1872-190--! q uentl y. Craving affecti on and inti­ macy, she held back, and it was only Childhood at small , intimate family gatherin crs A LIX Vi ctori a H elena Louise th at she managed to unwind. Beatrice, Princess of H esse­ The English backcrround and train­ Darmstadt, was born on June 6, 1872 ing she received at \\ indsor were to in the ancient Rhineland ity of remain with her long aft er she had Darmstadt. H er mother, Princess seen England for the last time. Alice, th e youngest of Queen Vi c­ (Edward, Duke of Windsor relates in toria's nine children, died in 1878 at A King's Story that th e Imperi al the age of thirty-five. family made its last state vi it to Princess Alix went to England to England in August 1909 for Hegatta live with her grandmother after her \Veek on th e Isle of Wight. They were mother's death. But for the six-year­ th e guests of King Edward VIl and old child the loss of her mother had his wife, Queen Alexandra, the sister a shattering effect. A shell of aloof­ of Dowacrcr Empr ss ::-.r aric Fcclo­ ness formed over her emotions, and rovna. It was at th e Hcgatta th at he

Editor's note: This study of the Empres Alexandra was selected to be read at th e Ohio Regional Conference of Phi Alpha Theta, National Honor Society for History, in \iVilberforce, Ohio, on April 20, 1968, and has been chosen as the representative paper from John Carroll University to be read at the National Conference of Phi Alpha Th ta in lew York City, December 28, 29, and 30, 1968. The Inh·oduction and all quotations in the text not otherwise marked (except for a page reference) are from the major souTce for the paper, Nicholas and Alexandra, an. Intimate Account of the Last of th e Romanovs and the Fall of Imperial Russia, by Robert K. Massie. All other footnotes have been incorporated into the tex t. A bibliography will be provided to anyone adchessing a reques t to the Editor.

-29- met his Hussian cousin for the fir t Kicholas would cYcn remotely con­ and only time.) Alix considered Eng­ sider, Alexander III and ~ l arie re­ lish her native tongue and always luctantly agreed that he should be spoke and wrote to the Emperor in allowed to propose." (p. 28) English. (Though their correspond­ Alix's chief oppo ition to the match ence was in English, when the Soviet was reli~ious. She could not renounce government released the letters they her deep Lutheran faith without the had been translated into Russian. conviction that Orthodoxy was the Therefore, our version of the J m­ true religion. \ Vith the encourage­ perial correspondence is a re-transla­ ment of her sister Ella (Elizabeth), tion of the Hussian into English.) She who had voluntarily converted when even, at times, thought and spoke of she married Serge, and the con­ herself as an Englishwoman. sultations of Father Yanishev, the icholas Tsar's personal confessor, she satis­ fied the deepest instincts of her Alix first traveled to Hussia when nature and ace ptcd both Orthodoxy she was twelve. She witnessed the and :\icholas's proposal. marriage of her older sister, E liza­ beth, to the Grand D uke S rgc, On November 1, 1894 Alexander younger brother of Tsar Alexander III died at the Livadia Palace in the HI. Crimea. Alix had been in Hussia ninety-six hours when her fiance She immediately caught th e eye of suddenly became Autocrat of All the the young Tsarevich 1 icholas, who Russias, the absolute ruler of one­ one cia y tried to give her a small sixth of the world. She spoke Russian brooch as a symbol of his affection. with difficulty and had no concep­ The shy, young princess, hovvcver, tion of the interminable Imperial blushingly refused his token of Court etiquette. 'Nhile Marie F edo­ esteem. rovna had had seventeen years in \Vithin the next several years, the which to prepare for her acsession to two met quite often on their various the throne, young Prine ss Alix had travels across Europe. It was in the less than four clays. spring of 1 94, however, at the But if Alix was not prepared marriage of Alix's older brother, the to become E mpress, neither was Grand Duke Ernest, that the romance icholas ready to take the reins of really blossomed, under the careful government. The Grand D uke Alex­ direction of that grand old match­ ander remarked in Once a Grand maker, Queen Victoria. Duke that the twenty-six-year-old Though the Tsar was somewhat Tsar, when he saw him once, cried: displeased with the affair and hoped "Sandro, what am I going to do? it would pass, he became alarmed \ Vhat is going to happen to me, to dming the summer about his own you, to Xenia (his sister and Alex­ de teriora ting physical condition. ander's wife), to Alix, to mother, to \ Vhilc nothing could be done about all of Hussia? I am not prepared to the Tsarevich's lack of political ex­ be a t ar. I never wanted to become perience, the Tsar felt that Ni cholas one. I know nothing of the bu iness could at least gain from the stabi­ of ruling. I have no idea of even how lizi ng benefit of marriage. Since to talk to the ministers." "Princess Alix was the only girl Alexander's funeral was held in St.

- 30 - Peter burg in th e middle of :'\ovem­ kill ed in a stampede to receive bcr. The new Grand Duchess Alex­ sou\'enirs of th e coronation. Once andra F derovna rode in a separate again th e simple ma ses took the carriage behind th e res t of the fa mily disaster as an omen of an unhappy during the procession. As she passed, reign. the sil nt crowd strain ed to se the Back in St. Peter ·burg aft er th e yo ung Empress-to-be. 'baking their Coronation and the tate \'isit of th e heads, old women crossed themselves royal family, what should ha\'e been and murmured darkly, "She has come to us behind a coffin ." a brilliant ocial season at the co urt collapsed because of Alexandra's The week after th e fun eral, on devotion to her fami ly and dislike of Tovember 26, Nicholas and Alex­ court society. andra were married in the " 'inter Grand Duke Alexand r recalled Palace by the Aletropolitan of St. that the Empress mad several small P tersburg. Following the ceremony, error wh il e attempting to master the the you ng couple went directly to intricate court etiquette. Insie; nifica nt the Anitchkov Palace, where a few as th ey were these rrors \\'Cre l<\ nta­ cl ays later Alexandra wrote her sister, mount to formidable crime in th e Prin cess Vi ctoria of Battenhurg: "I eyes of St. Peter burg society. This cannot yet realize that 1 am married, frightened the yo ung cmprcs:> and she livi ng here wi th others, it seems like became re erved in her treatment of being on a visit. " others. And, as if in a \'icious circle, compariso ns then arose between th e The Coronation and Life in fri endlin ess of the Dowa ger Empre.;s St. Petersburg and the "snobbi h coolness'' of the The offi cial period of mo urning for young Tsari tsa. Alexander III las ted twelve months, and the coronati on of the new Tsar Alexandra, in turn, wrote, "Peters­ and his E mpr ss was scheduled for burg is a rotten town, not one atom fay 1896, when the snows had Russian." And slowly a rift reall y did melted and the Neva once again develop between i\ Iarie and her emptied into th e Gulf of F inland. daught r-in-law. In co urt protocol, a dowager empress took precedence The coronati on, however, did not over an empress, so that at pub li c take place in St. Petersburg, but ceremonies Marie walked on the arm rather in the ancient, histori c capital of her son while Alexandra foll owed of Moscow. The Imperial fa mily, behind escorted by one of th e grand which now incl uded the Grand dukes. Likewise, in anoth er incid ent, Duchess Olga icolaievna, entered ,\Iarie hesitated to give up some of the city on May 25. The fo llowing the Imperial jewels whi ch were con­ day Nicholas crowned h imself, as sidered the property of th e reigning was customary, and his wife in the empress, ca using a brief, but bitter, Ouspensky Cathedral inside the fa mily fight. Kremlin in a glittering fi ve-hour In the same manner, in th e earl y ceremony. years of his reign, 1 icholas was The coronation festivities, however, guided chiefl y by his moth er's advice. were marred by the tragedy in the Later, as Alix began to resent this, Khodynka Meadow outside Moscow Marie's influence with the Tsar di­ where hundreds of peasants were minished, and eventuall y she was al-

-31 - most completely cut off from her son. boy. "Hidden from public view, At the same time that she should veiled in rumor, working from with­ haY<' been breaking down th e barriers in , this unseen tragedy \\'Ou ld change that ex isted between the court and the history of Russia and the world." herself, Alexandra was recmrently (p. 114) pregnant - first with Olga in 189.5, ~ot until six weeks after his birth and th ereafter with Tatiana in 1897, was Al exi s's hemophilia even dis­ ~ I arie in 1 99, and Anastasia in 1901. covered. At that time, th e Tsar noted H er few feeble attempts at fri end­ in his diary: "Alix and I have been ship were, in any event, rebuffed by very much worried. A hemorrhage the ladies of St. Petersburg. One began this morning without the notable flop recounted by Anna slightes t cause from the navel of our Vyrubova, the Empress's best friend, small Alexis. It las ted with but a few tell s of Alexandra's desire to fo rm a interruptions until evening. We had sewing society whose purpose wou ld to call the surgeon Fedorov who at be fo r each member to mak three seven o'clock applied a bandage. The garments a year fo r th e poor. The child was remarkably quiet and even society, once it got started, d id not merry but it was a dreadful thing to las t long. Vyrubova, writing in M em­ have to li ve through such anxiety." oirs of the Russian Court, noted, "The Alexa ndra and H emophilia idea was too foreign to the soil. " In eli cussing the blight of hemo­ II. ALE XIS - 1904-1912 phil ia, the real personali ty of Alex­ Alexis and Hemophilia andra comes through clearl y. She was not an ogre or a wench as her I T might well be said that the col­ enemies, both contemporary and lapse of Imperial Russia began on present, are wont to d scribe her. She August 12, 1904 with the birth of th e was rath er th e mo ther of a desper­ Tsarev ich Alexis, rather than on th e ately sick child, who because of her more popular el ate of October 30, devotion became, as th e Grand 1905 when the Imperi al Manifesto Duchess Olga Al exandrovna said, was issued calling the first Duma. "the most maligned Homanov of From tl1 e time her son was born, us all. " th e central concern of Al exandra's H emophilia was introduced into life was her fi ght against hemophilia. the majority of European royal This fi ght, with its consequent .intro­ houses by Queen Vi ctoria, who at d uction of Rasputin, led directl y to her death was "Granny" or "Great­ th e mismanagement of Russ ia's war granny" to half of Europe's ruling effort in \ Vo rld vVa r I, and, th ere­ families. She herself was often heard fore, was responsibl e for the coll apse to moan, "Our poor family seems of tsari sm in March 1917. persecuted by this awfnl disease, the It is worth noting that th e birth of worst I know." a son and heir, a b irth so long W hil e it is possible th at Nicholas await ed and so wildly hailed, should was aware of th e hemophilia present prove to be a mortal blow for I m­ in the H ouse of H anover, and th ere­ perial Hu ssia. For Hu ssia was toppled fore the H ouse of \iVincl sor, it i · un­ not so much by th e socialists, with likely that he gave much th ought to th eir strikes and bombs, as it was by the iss ue prior to his marriage to this tiny defect in the body of a small Alexandra. Dr. J. B. S. H aldane, who

-32- has made a tudy of the disea e in disc11ssed, and therefore onl y among Europe'· royal families, beli ves that members of the family can solace be if court physicians mentioned the found . As :\lassie points out while possibility of hemophilia to the discussing i\1 icholas's role in the engag d couple it probably went family tragedy: " To man ever was unheeded. On the other hand, he gentler or more compassionate to his concludes that "if a distingui heel wife, or spent more time with his doctor outside court ci rcle· had affli cted son. However this last desired to warn icholas of the H.u sian tsar may be judged as a dangerous character of his approach­ monarch, his behavior as a hu band ing marriage, I do not believe he and father was something which would have been able to do it, cith r shone nobly apart." (p. 154) directly or in columns of the press. Kings are carefully protected against Besides her husband, Alexandra disagreeable realities .... " had her one intimate friend, Anna Vyrubova, with whom she shared Only recently have p ychologists every ache ancl pain, physical and begun to treat hemophilia, with its psychological. But her friendship consequent effects on hemophiliacs with Anna, like all the rest of the and their fami lies, as a subject within Lmpr<'ss' · actions in Hussia, led only th eir legitimate area of study. H. K. to hard feelings. Anna's simpli city :1\I as ·ie, whose son is a hemophiliac, and homeliness plainly ou traged St. relates th at th e maternal instinct to Petersburg society. Grand duchesses fight is immediately apparent when of the Imperial blood who wer' never a mother is told of her son's disease. invited to the palace were livid when Somehow, somewhere th e physician they thought of "dumpy Vyrubova" or th e cure will turn up. Slowly, sitting night after night, week after greeted with disillusion after disillu­ week, in th e intimate circle of the sion, medical hope disintegrate , Imperi al family. leavin g th e will to fi ght nothing but emoti on on which to feed. During th ose times when th e Tsarcvich was well everything went mother with even th e slightest along smoothly at th e Al exander religious training turns instantly to Palace in Tsarskoe Selo. Indeed, her faith in God and miracles when Pierre Gill iard, in Thi-rt een Years at she or a loved one is faced with an the Russian Court, remarks, "every­ incurable eli case. There is no religion one and everything seemed bathed hcttcr sui ted for this mystica I fa ith in sunshine." But when an accident than Hussian Orthodoxy. \ Vith its occurred and the bleeding began the icons, censors, and heavily bearded horror of the old disease once again clergy chanting mys terious Greek enveloped the palace and its family. prayers, combining with Alexandra's :t\o one could describe th e scene fervent and absolute faith in their more vividly than Gilliard, who was power, the stage was set for the ar­ Alexis's French tutor: rival of a miracle or a miracleworker. One morning I found the :\Ieanwhile, the res t of the world moth er at her son's bedside. He seemed coldly indifferent to the had had a very bad ni ght. Dr. mother and her afflicted son. Only Derevenko was anxious as the among members of the family or close hemorrhage had not stopped and friends can th e disease be frankly h is temperature was rising. The

-33- inflammation had spread and the of Borodino, which the Ru ians con­ pain was worse than the day sider the beginning of the end of before. The Tsarevich lay in l\' apoleon. bed, groaning piteously. His Following the celebrations at Bora­ head re ted on his mother's arm dina, the fam il y moved on to their and his small , deadly white face Polish hunting lodge at Bialowieza was unrecognizable. At times the and Spala. \\'bi le at Bialowieza, groans ceased and he murmured Alexis b gan going for boat excur­ the one word, "'Mummy." H is sions each morning while his father mother kissed him on th e hair, and si ters rode through the immense forehead, and eyes as if th e fo res ts. On one of these outings the touch of her lips would revive Tsarevich fe ll whil e leaping into the him. Think of the torture of that boat and ground a gunwhale into his moth er, an impotent witness of left thigh. her son's martyrdom in those Dr. Botkin, Alexis's physician, hours - a mother who knew fou nd some slight swelling and sent th at she herself was th e ca use of his young pati ent to bed for rest and those sufferings, th at she had recovery lest ometh in g more seri ous transmitted th e terrible disease develop. again st which hu ma n science After two weeks at Bialowieza, the was powerl ess. low I under­ fa mily pro eeded on to Spala. There stood the secret tragedy of her th e riding and hunting continued, life. How easy it was to recon­ and Alex is recovered quite satis­ struct th e stages of that long factoril y from his fall. The E mpress, Calvary. seeing th e improv ment, decided Tormented as she was by this Alexis needed so me fresh air and, feelin g of guilt at bein g th e cause of th erefore, ordered her carriage on the all her son's agony, Al exandra deter­ afternoon of October 4. \ iV hen they mined that, if she could not give had traveled a few miles the hemor­ Alex is health, at least she could rhagin g suddenly began, brought on preserve his inheritance. She was not by the jostling coach, and continued by nature opposed to parliamentary at an alarming rate. Alexandra im­ institutions, having grown up in Eng­ mediately ordered the driver to tum land under th e most constitutional of around and head back for the hunt­ monarchs. But when illness stmck ing lodge. she steeled her will and resolved to offset Alexis's physical handicaps There followed what Anna Vyru­ with th e mighty, undiminished splen­ bova called "an experi ence in horror." dor of the autocracy destined one day Every movement of the bouncing carriage worsened the pain until to be his. Alexis was nearly unconscious with III. HASPUTlN - 1912-1917 th e torture, while his mother ap­ The Incident at Spala proached the brink of hysteria. the early fall of 1912 the Im­ Doctors rushed in from St. Peters­ I perial family began an extended burg, but to no avail ; the bleeding tour of lhe western parts of the continued unabated. "The days be­ empire. The primary purpose of the tween the sixth and the tenth were trip was to celebrate the one­ the worse," the Tsar wrote his mother. hundredth anniversary of the Battle "The poor darling suffered intensely,

-34- the pains came in spa ms and re­ Thus Dr. Fedorov may have per­ curred every quarter of an hour. His formed some unknown, life-saving high temperature made him delirious treatment on Alexi that evening. \Ve night and day; and he would sit up shall never know ..More importantly, in bed and every movement brought however, Alexandra never knew, and the pain on again." he therefore ascribed the cure to Rasputin. Meanwhile, almos t unbeli evably, life continued as usual at Spala. In H enceforth, his place at court was their strict devotion to secrecy the secure, and until his death on Decem­ family refused to admit the illness to ber 27, 1916, Rasputin would n ver anyone. Spala was by fa1· th e classic want for anything nor fear any man example of the tragedy of their in Russia. He, in the truest sense of double life. the words, became "Autocrat of All the Russias." Eventually, however, Russia had to be prepared for the almost certain 1912-1915 death of the H eir. The gravity, In th e years followin g Spala, though not th e nature, of the illness Rasputin wi elded great influence at was disclosed, and th e nation was Tsarskoe Selo. But his influence was plunged into prayer. At length Alex­ indirect, reaching the Empress andra bowed to Anna Vyrubova's through Anna Vyrubova rather than wi shes and permitted her to telegraph in direct confrontations. Though Rasputin on th e tenth asking for his Alexandra placed no stock in the prayers. H e immediately cabled back: tales of the "holy man's" lecherous "God has seen your tears and heard life in St. Petersburg, she did feel your prayers. Do not grieve. The that it would be improper for him to Little One will not die. Do not allow become too intimate with the Im­ the doctors to bother him too much." perial Court. Therefore, Rasputin's The following morning the bleed­ visits to Tsarskoe were usually con­ ing stopped, Alex is's temperature fined to Anna's small cottage a few broke, and though he would con­ hundred yards from the Alexander valesce for more than a year, the Pabce. crisis had passed. The Tsarevich was During this period between Spala alive. and Sarajevo, however, all was fairly The effect was electric. Rasputin, peaceful in Hussia. The Tsarcvich th e Siberian monk, who had met the continued his satisfactory recovery, family only once long ago, had ic: holas had his Dumas seemingly miraculously saved th e life of the under control, and the four grand H eir. duchesses were rapidly approaching womanhood. In 1913 the dynasty and No medi cal explanation has ever all of Huss ia celebrated the three­ been given for the cure at Spala . Dr. hundredth anniversary of Romanov F edorov, the Tsar's physician, had rule in huge fes tivals all over the thought of trying "something" radical co untry. the night the telegram arrived. Vlheth cr he actually did try some­ August 1914 brought the First thing extraordinary when all was lost " "oriel \Var and an unparalled rise is unknown, for he refused ever again in patriotism among all the classes. to comment on the issue. The Imperi al family made a tri-

-35- umphal entry into St. Petersburg, most deadly effect. :\icholas re~ubrly \\'hich :\ icholas renamed the more deferred to Ale,andra's judgment on SLn ic Pctrogracl. The French amhas­ her choices. "And it was her choice !>aclor, ~Iauri ce Paleologuc, watching of ministers, proposed by Hasputin, from his embassy window, later re­ beseechingly pre ·sed on and 1111\\·isely called: "To those thousands on their endorsed by th e absentee Tsar, which knees at that moment the Tsar was lost the Tsar hi throne." (pp. 3 !2-3-t3) really th e Autocrat, th e mi litary, Hasputin had no real political goals poLlica l ami religious director of his in mind, no designs fo r power; he people, the absolute master of th eir simply wished to maintain th e status bodies and souls." quo - to li ve, unhindered, his "free­ The Tsar's cousin, the Grand Duke wheelin [j, dissolute life." (p. 3 12 ) H e 1\'ic:holas, was named Commander-in­ knew very well who his enemies in Chief of th e Hussian armies, and he power were, and he used all possible led them admirably. But as the war influence on Alexandra to have th em dragged on through its first winter dismissed. 'icholas developed th e notion th at a Througho11t her letters to 1 icholas, true tsar belonged at the front lead­ Al exandra writes, "Gregory earnes tly ing his troops to victory as in d ays of begs ... " or "I must give you a old. In Augttst 1915 he made his message from our Friend." The ex­ decision and left for Stavka, the tent of Hasputin's influence is proha­ headquarters of the Hussian western bly never more apparent than it is front. This decision, more th an the in November 1915 when Alexandra war itself, caused th e fall of Imperial wrote: "H e begs you to order that Russia. one should advance near Hi ga, say · Nicholas at the Front it is necessary, oth erwise th e Germans Alexandra had endorsed th e Tsar's will settl e down so firmly through all decision to ass ume command of th e the winter that it will cost endless army, and wrote him when he left: bloodshed and tro11bl e to make th em '·God anointed you at your corona­ move .. . . tion, he placed you where you stand Thus, the ultimate stage is reached. and you have done your duty, he Hasputin, the peasant preacher from sure, q uitc sure of th at. . . . Our Siberia, commands the army, appoints Friend's prayers ari se cl ay and night and dismisses ministers, and provides for you to H eaven and God will hear the direct li nk hch,·een God and th e them .... It is the beginning of th e Romanov fami ly. great glory of your reign .. . . " \Vith this kind of si t11 a ti on ex ist ing Once Ticholas was at the front in Russia at a time of graves t national guiding th e military, Al exandra, as danger it i · not hard to sec why, or regent, began guiding th e political how, a revolution developed. By functions of the government at home. D ecember 1916 the economy had Inexperienced as she was, it is no collapsed, th e army was in shambles, wonder that at first the Empress communications and transportation restrained herself and left much of were at a standstill, and the au tocracy the decision making to the ministers. was crumbling. On the twenty­ It was with th e ministers, the real seventh of the month, Prince Felix administrators of the nation, however, Yus oupov, aided by the Grand Duke that Rasputin managed to have his Dmitry and Vladimir Purishkevich, a

-36- member of the Duma, attempted the EPILOGUE murder of Rasputin and dumped his The Empress Alexandra certainly still-breathing body into the eva is one of history's mo l complex Hiver. But even the a sassination of figmcs. She should not be used, how­ Rasputin could not stem the course ever, a. a psychological guinea pig. of Lhe national avalanche. ln her cm·ironmcnt, he reacted to personal tragedy .in the only way she IV. THE FALL OF THE HO SE knew. An instinctive turn to religion and God, when medical sources OF ROMAI\'OV - 1917-191 f.tilecl her, led her into th e clutches Abdication of a devious peasant monk, who, with her unknowing approval, developed By March 1917 the Tsar' writ into a Samson and pulled her own had effectively ceased to run. house down upon her. Governm nt throughout the Empire, From the vantage point of fifty on a national level, disintegrated, to years, the fall of Imperial Hussia is be followed only by the disintegra­ lamentable. \Ve can asily ee that tion of the Empire itself. On Thurs­ Imperial autocracy was replaced by day, March 15 at 3:00 p.m. in hi an autocracy far les noble and a railway car at Pskov, Nicholas signed thousand times more malignant. And his instrument of abdication. That yet, the collapse of the Homanov evening he noted in his diary: ·'For family was hailed in America and the sake of Hussia, and to keep the the \Vest, while their dealhs were armies in the field, I decided to take scarcely noticed, and certainly never this step. . . . All around me I see mourned. As Sir Winston Churchill treason, cowardice and deceit." noted so eloquently in The Birth of The Empress first learned of the Britain: "\Vhat claim hm·e we to abdication from the Grand Duke vaunt a superior civilization . . . ? Paul, the Tsar's uncle, and refused to \Ve are sunk in a barbarism all the believe it. Later that evening, the deeper because it is tolerated by sixteenth, Count Benckendorff, Min­ moral lethargy and covered with a ister of the Imperial Court, confinncd veneer of scientific conveniences ... " the news to her. She received it And again, in The 7ew ·world: "In calmly, but, he writes in Last Days our own time we have seen an Em­ at Tsarkoe Selo, "as we went out, I press slaughtered in a ceJiar without saw that she sat clown at the table any marked reaction upon the collec­ and burst into tears." tive mind of civilization." So it was then, and so it remains 1 icholas arrived back at the Alex­ ander Palace on March 22 and there, today during this fiftieth anniv rsary sobbing like a little boy, join d Alex­ of Lhe Hussian Revolution. anclra, never to leave her again. - JAMES F. J\lcCO TNELL JR.

- 37- Moon

In fayette by fowlers mill they came one by one - the plumber man, T ex, the clerk, Old Braun Baggy and Arky to discuss things, the conversation, fillin with didya hears and I knewed it all th e times and then in he strolls blocking out the sun like a giant moon and the sawdust skittered cross the floor, from the wind outside and he shuts the door and just stands th ere, shivering he was most of the time he was standin, and sniffin like he was sick or something and then he up and sits clown on number three, Old Braun Baggy's stool, and orders a bottle of somethin or other nobody ever heard of and ChesteT wipes off the clusty bottle of whatever it was ancl]?lunks it down with a glass ancl mumbles a price, a dollar it was, and then the moon, that's what they called him after it was over, he goes ·into his pocket, fray ed they were and big like a carpenter or something like that, and pulls out a bill or two, not lmge mind ya, but enough to cover it ancl he starts to drinking slowly and it got real quiet, oh Arky cleared his throat once or twice and if Old Braun Baggy's eyes

-38 - could have talked they would have said plenty as he look at his stool, I mean a man's stool is his specially if he's been sitting there eleven years and he wa a touch confused, not uppity mind ya, but confused so he just sat, ancl the plumber ticked the edge of his matches and Che ter had him another beer rea l quick and T ex kine/a shuffled to the Juke box hummin a so rt of nothing tune, but tl1 en his tclwle life wa like a shuffle u;ell-timed lmt awkward mosta the time so no one 111ade a big fuss but just then the clerk makes a scraping noise with his foot, rubs his double chin and sighs a, "Well, I'll be damned" and Chester starts to make a stoppin motion w ith his hands and the clerk well he calms down a bit and the m oon just keeps starin straight ah ead but st ill sniffin 011cl snuffin not lookin nowhere and Braun Baggy starts his rockin motion like when he wants to make som e important point, clears his throat and picks up old T ex's nothin tune and then the plumber makes a gathering motion ancl Chester ambles clown-wind and joins the rest and pretty soon T ex shuffles on back ancl they is all talkin low and looking this away and that away and the moon just keeps clrinkin real slow and starin

-39-