VITA Alan Brief life of a premonitory poet: 1888-1916 by dick friedman

hundred years ago, at the height of , the perclassman, earnestly composing poetry (heavy on truth and raged in northern . More than beauty) and finding a congenial group of fellow aesthetes (in- A 600,000 British and French troops became casualties try- cluding classmates and ) as an edi- ing to break the German lines, yet an American became arguably tor of the literary magazine The Harvard Monthly. as celebrated as any of them, even though his nation had not yet These years may have launched him, at least literarily, on his entered the war. A few weeks before he was killed, Alan Seeger, rendezvous with death. In Memoirs of the Harvard Dead in the War A.B. 1910—a tall, mop-haired French Foreign Legionnaire—com- Against Germany (1920), the entry for Seeger notes: “In The Advance posed an eerie, premonitory three-stanza poem. Either despite or of English Poetry in the Twentieth Century, by Professor Phelps of Yale, because of its brevity, “I Have a Rendezvous with Death” was an there is quoted a letter from Professor Robinson of Harvard tell- instant classic—the most famous American poem of a verse-filled ing of the strong impression made upon Seeger by the Irish ‘Song war. It became not only a staple of high-school English-class recita- of Fothad Canainne,’…a song which sings: ‘It is a blindness for one tions but also the favorite poem of President John F. Kennedy ’40. who makes a tryst to set aside the tryst with death.’ ” Seeger’s death wish was not lifelong. His early days were spent After graduation, Seeger aimed to become a full-time man of happily on Staten Island. When he was 10, the family began two letters—first in , then in . The market for years in Mexico, where his father had business interests; that aspiring poets was no better then than now, but in the City of country, with its exotic flora, figured in many of his later poems. Lights, Seeger “was happier than he had ever been before,” re- At Harvard, he took a while to find his footing. Recalling those called another Monthly colleague, poet John Hall Wheelock, A.B. days a decade later, in a letter from the front to an old friend, he 1908. But “he was still uncertain of himself and his aims, still wrote: “My life during those years was intellectual to the exclu- waiting for that destiny which he felt every day more clearly and sion of almost everything else. I shut myself off completely from steadfastly was somehow in preparation for him.” the life of the University. I felt no need of comradeship.” He The guns of August 1914 announced his path: was more social as an up- 23 days after the outbreak of war, Seeger en- listed in the Foreign Legion. Like many who rushed to the colors, he envisioned a brief, glorious conflict he would survive. On Octo- ber 17, from training camp at Aube, he wrote his mother: “Do not worry, for the chances are small of not returning and I think you can count on seeing me…next summer.” Soldiering proved no less Seeger’s metier than sonnetry. In the next two years he was shuttled from trench to trench, in harm’s way from German artillery and bullets, one of which “just grazed my arm, tore the sleeve of my capote and raised a lump on the bi- ceps which is still sore, but the skin was not broken and the wound was not seri- ous enough to make me leave the ranks.” In October 1915 he was mistakenly reported killed in the Battle of Champagne. All along, he was writing—poems, son- nets, a diary, and picturesque letters as well dispatches to U.S. newspapers. In spring 1916, he composed the eloquent “Ode in Memory of the American Volun-

“Rendezvous,” in a 1918 French edition of Seeger’s letters and poems 54 November - December 2016

Reprinted from Harvard Magazine. For more information, contact Harvard Magazine, Inc. at 617-495-5746 teers Fallen for France”; he was bitterly disap- pointed when he didn’t receive leave to read it in Paris on Decoration Day. On July 4, three days after the start of the Somme offensive, Seeger’s battalion was ordered to capture the village of Belloy-en-Santerre. The first wave went forward, Seeger’s reserve com- pany following. A friend and fellow legionnaire, an Egyptian named Rif Baer, chronicled his final moments. “His tall silhouette stood out on the green of the cornfield,” Baer wrote. “…His head erect, and pride in his eye, I saw him running for- ward, with bayonet fixed. Soon he disappeared and that was the last time I saw my friend.” Twelve days before, Seeger had turned 28. As is often true for artists, death was (to be blunt) a good career move for Seeger, especially after the United States entered the war. Scribner’s published a col- Unfortunately, Fussell does not mention Seeger’s “Ode in Mem- lection of his poems, and his diary. The New York Times Sunday Maga- ory,” a work of honest sentiment, historical sweep, and consider- zine ran an admiring profile. Sportswriting icon Grantland Rice able elegance. lionized him in verse in Songs of the Stalwart. Seeger had asked that weeping be tempered at his death. A year Later critics, including a fellow soldier, Paul Fussell, Ph.D. ’52, before, he wrote: “The tears for those who take part in [battle and] have been more jaundiced. In his groundbreaking The Great War …do not return should be sweetened by the sense that their death and Modern Memory, Fussell dismisses “Rendezvous,” all but label- was the death which beyond all others they would have chosen for ing it second-rate, especially beside contemporary British war themselves, that they went to it smiling and without regret.” poetry: “It is unresonant and inadequate for irony compared with

works like…[Wilfred] Owen’s ‘Exposure,’ which begins with a Contributing editor Dick Friedman ’73, a former editor and writer at Sports HUD 3567.219.2 NO. 296, HARVARD UNIVERSITY ARCHIVES travesty-echo of the first line of Keats’s ‘Ode to a Nightingale.’ ” Illustrated, covers football (see page 29) and other subjects for this magazine.

The poet as a senior at Harvard and as a French legionnaire in 1916 Harvard Magazine 55

Reprinted from Harvard Magazine. For more information, contact Harvard Magazine, Inc. at 617-495-5746