{"numero_id": "bm-bmtnaay-1922-01", "volume": "bmtnaay_1922_01", "ocr_sha256": "aa467b3869b312376b2bcf7fb88668561cfce6ee4894ec48f0142343c2fc9eba", "source_tei": "https://github.com/Princeton-CDH/bluemountain-transcriptions/blob/main/periodicals/bmtnaay/issues/1922_01/bmtnaay_1922_01.tei.xml", "source_mets": "https://github.com/pulibrary/BlueMountain/blob/main/metadata/periodicals/bmtnaay/issues/1922_01/bmtnaay_1922_01.mets.xml", "url_numero": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01", "articles": [{"article_id": "bm-bmtnaay-1922-01-c001", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaay_1922_01#c001", "volume": "bmtnaay_1922_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "n. p.", "page_fin": "n. p.", "image_debut": 2, "image_fin": 2, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.2.1", "titre_corps": "IDENTITY CARDS", "titre_sommaire": "IDENTITY CARDS", "signature_source": "", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "n. p.", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.2", "debut_caractere": 466, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1647, "texte": "IDENTITY CARDS\nLouis Aragon; A youthful student of medicine who served in the\nwar. Poet, novelist, critic, co-director of Litterateur\nand associate editor of Aventure, the two organs\nof the youngest French generation in letters.\nWill Bray: He has covered at prodigious speed an enormous\namount of literary territory during his nineteen\nyears. He has lived alternately in America and in\nFrance and writes in both languages.\nMalcolm Cowley: A contributor of poetry and essays to a number\nof publications, including the Dial, the Little\nReview, the N. Y. Evening Post Literary Review.\nHe graduated from Harvard not long ago and is\nliving in Montpellier, France, at present.\nMatthew Josephson: A recent graduate of Columbia University and a\nresident of Paris. He has been published by\nPoetry: A Magazine of Verse. Lately, he joined\nthe staff of Aventure. A helpful counselor at the\nmeetings in Paris which planned Secession.\nTristan Tzara: His cry, „Dada\", has travelled around the world\nfrom the Cafe Voltaire, Zurich in 1916. A Rou-\nmanian who writes in French. He is author of\nLa Premiere Aventure Celeste de Mr Antipyrine,\nVingt-Cinq Poemes and Calendrier cinema du\ncoeur abstrait."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaay-1922-01-c002", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaay_1922_01#c002", "volume": "bmtnaay_1922_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "1", "page_fin": "3", "image_debut": 3, "image_fin": 5, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.2.2", "titre_corps": "DAY COACH", "titre_sommaire": "DAY COACH", "signature_source": "MALCOLM COWLEY", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "1", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.3", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1099, "texte": "DAY COACH\n\nI\nTickets PLEASE\nsaid the conductor, and Benjamin settled back\ninto his seat, and by this action wrapped\nsolitude about hipi like a cloak.\nStrangers brushed past him\ndown the aisle, soiling only\nthe fringes of his mantel;\nhis eyes had turned\nto watch the hills that so proceeded like awkward\nvast dancers across his eyes;\nto watch the moving\nmist of his breath as it crept along the pane.\nII\nHe says to himself\n— it is the placing\nof the foot upon the step deposited by the porter:\nit is the leisurely\nprocession with baggage up a red plush aisle:\nout of such gestures there grows\nthe act of travel.\nJohnstown, Pittsburgh: these cities\nescape the grasp of the hand\nthese cities are pimpled on hills;\nManhattan is corseted briefly about with waters.\nYou climb into a train, give a tip, open a paper, light a\ncigar, and the landscape\njerks unevenly past.\nYour knees straighten\nautomatically at Pittsburgh; a porter\ntakes the luggage, saying rapidly\n— this way to a taxi, Boss,\nthis way to a taxi,\nand the hills and fields of Pennsylvania quiver\nbehind you vaguely, the landscape of a dream."}, {"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "2", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.4", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1432, "texte": "III\nAs the other train passed he looked through the\nplate glass of the dining car — the other — and saw\na fork suspended in the air and before it had finished\nits journey he was peering into a smoking car with a\nsilver haze and four men playing cards over a suitcase\nclamped to their knees. A world, a veritable world, as\nseen beneath the microscope. A world in an envelope\nsealed with the red tail light that proceeded gravely\npast him up the track. A world sealed out of his world\nand living for thirty-five seconds of his life.\nIV\nThe lights of the train proceed\ntransversely across the water;\nacross the water strides\nthe shadow of the engineer;\nthe square barred windows move across the water\nas if they marked a prison that exists\nnever between four walls, but only moves\ncontinually across a world of waters.\nV\nHis head drooped lower gradually; he dreamed\nof the locomotive that boldly had deserted\nthe comfortable assurance of steel rails;\nit turned and leaped\nlike a beast hunted along the wooded slope.\nBMMMP\nover logs, over stones and among\nthe trees that leaned away from it as it passed,\nand all the time the engineer bending out of his cab\nand saying\n— The four fourteen will be on time at Youngsville\nthe four fourteen will be on time WON'T it, Bill.\nAnd the trees, reassured, lean back to their posts again.\nVI\nTime is marked not by hours but by cities; we are\none station before Altoona, one station beyond Altoona;"}, {"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "3", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.5", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1277, "texte": "CRESSON: change cars for Luckett, Munster and all\npoints on the line that runs tortuously back into a\nboyhood, with the burden of a day dropping like ripe\nfruit at every revolution of the driving wheel, with a\nyear lost between each of the rickety stations: Beulah\nRoad, Ebensburg, Nant-y-glo; gather your luggage and\nmove it towards the door. BIG BEND.\nVII\n0 voyagers, with you\n1 have moved like a firefly over the waters;\nwith you I was spit\nlike a cherry seed from the puckered lips of the tunnel.\nCome: let us join our hands,\ndance\nring around the rosy, farmer in the dell\naround this clucking locomotive. Come!\nAnd out of the red cabooses huddled in the yards,\nout of the engine cabs and roundhouses\nwill stream out silently to meet us\nthese others.\nCome!\nVIII\nOut of the group at the station, no form detached itself\nto meet him; the circle of their backs\nwas a wall against him. He waited\nuntil the checkerboard lights of the train had shown\nphantasmally along the shale of the cut and vanished.\nHe buttoned his coat and stumbled into the darkness,\nthe darkness proceeded along with him until\nhe picked it up and wrapped it about his shoulders,\nbending his shoulders under the weight of the darkness,\nhe stumbled away with his burden of bushes and hills.\n\nMALCOLM COWLEY"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaay-1922-01-c003", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaay_1922_01#c003", "volume": "bmtnaay_1922_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "4", "page_fin": "7", "image_debut": 6, "image_fin": 9, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.2.3", "titre_corps": "BOTTLE FOUND AT SEA", "titre_sommaire": "BOTTLE FOUND AT SEA", "signature_source": "LOUIS ARAGON", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "4", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.6", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2129, "texte": "BOTTLE FOUND AT SEA\n\nLost as I am by the edge of this profound lake in\nwhich is mirrored an unknown sky, shall I ever attain\nthe linking of my existence with the human centuries\nwhose faint trail seems scarcely to penetrate these\nregions? Even the sense of time is forgotten: whether\nI go toward yesterday or tomorrow, there is no way\nof knowing. And these words suggest nothing more,\nsince it is impossible to tell whether the ages have\nbeen arrested forever or whether their flight has been\nhastened with the uniformly accelerated rapidity of a\nbody approaching the sun. If only I had a watch with\nme to end this uncertainty. A diffuse light reigns\neternally over this world and the sun that is of space\nas well as of time has deserted this immutable firmament.\nThe lovely liquid expanse which composes my horizon\nrounds out toward the west and receives at the north-\nwest a stream that flows from the north. As far as I\ncan ascertain with the aid of my compass, its direction\nseems to be north-northeast by south-southwest. But\nhow to measure its extent? I have made the circum-\nference of the lake several times without arriving at\neven the haziest idea as to the year or minute of the\nlength of the voyage. At first glance I had estimated\nthe circumference to be a hundred miles. Later con-\njectures brought this figure up from a hundred to a\nhundred and fifty or a hundred and sixty miles. The\nactual span must be somewhere between these two\nnumbers. Nor can the time that I place at the disposal\nof this investigation serve as a yard-stick: it comprises\nanything from a few sparse thoughts to a desert of\nennui and vexation. The beatings of my pulse inform\nme no better, their irregularities born no doubt of\nthe helplessness in which 1 find myself to appraise\nequivalents amid such astounding phenomena. The\nvegetation in its development follows no habitual or\nlogical order of growth. There are trees here which\ngrow downward, flowers that give forth leaves, buds\nthat the wind carries off to make a carpet for me.\n* Fragment from Telamaque, a novel to be published this\nspring-. Translated from the French by Will Bray."}, {"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "5", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.7", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2190, "texte": "Certain plants remain invariable; others seem as ephe-\nmeral as my regard. Suddenly I feel myself ageing- as\nI lift my eyelids. I should certainly make a poor\nhour-glass.\nHow I could have blundered about in time; I still\nwonder at this. I had accepted with real pleasure an\ninvitation to go to Normandy and stay at the villa of a\nfriend, Celeste P , . . married recently. Paris was\nthinning out, and the thought of spending a few days\nby the sea-shore where the air was so pure and re-\nfreshing with the nip of salt, was by no means\nunpleasant to me. It had been a superb day. The sun\nbrimmed over in the fields. The dust invaded the\nrailroad coaches, but nearing the sea we scented its\ndelicious tang and it went right to our hearts. Getting\noff the train, I looked about me and saw that the sky\nwas sky-blue. Celeste advanced toward me with her\nhand outstretched. Suddenly a fit of abstraction seized\nme, I thought of other things: once you have thought\nof other things, you are done for. Impossible to get\nback to the point of departure, and following the\nthread I reached some desert region at some indeter-\nmined epoch of the universe. At first I did not under-\nstand what was happening to me. I said to myself:\n„This cannot last\". Now 1 do not even know whether\nit does last.\nI have come to believe that in the temporal impasse\ninto which I have strayed there is no soul that lives.\nOnly a companion in misfortune could help me to\nregain life. Together we could reconstitute time. Sim-\nply a matter of comparison. Alone, I lose grip on\nmyself in wrestling with my identity: if I remained the\nsame from one minute to another how could I experience\nthe transformation announced by this movement of the\nclock-hand? 1 end by losing all track of the continuity\nof my thought. For in the most general sense all is\nlogical to me in solitude, and, writing as I am for\nchance salvagers, for blind savages, or for the deaf\ntides that carry my bottle, I can scarcely trust that the\nlanguage I use will ever be understood by any man\nother than myself. Why, it is impossible for me to\nread it over: I am only intelligible to myself in flashes.\nMy sheet of paper all at once becomes perfectly blank"}, {"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "6", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.8", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2264, "texte": "again, or covered with ideas I have never had. The\nwords themselves come invested in strange masks, or\nbare and different from each other. Bursted balloons.\nPastimes, pleasures, leisure, salt of life, all seem strange\ncustoms, rites devised to hasten death along. Fire is\nwhat I find most mysterious of all. The novel I kept\nin my pocket during the entire journey has remained\nthere and I reassemble in it my only memories of\nhuman life. Preposterous existence bounded only by\nthe most elementary of questions. I take, for instance,\nfrom my book, the character called George, hotelkeeper.\nHow the emblems of all the trades balance themselves\nunhappily in the blue city of the vision. This horrible\nlimitation, the branch of holly which the man fixed\nabove his door one morning condemned him to be\nnothing but an innkeeper for all eternity. Is it not true\nthat in books sudden illuminations flash between the\nconventional characters one longs to resemble? The\nchoice between two destinies is tragically lost in the\ndisordered movements of the heart. A very beautiful\nwoman, two or three singular exaltations, a moment of\nperfect happiness, the entire life of a citizen .of the\nworld reduces itself to a few metaphors more wretched\nand vulgar than a carpenter's shop: the split up wood\nhardly arouses any enthusiasm. Through staring into\nspace for a long time there grows in my breast the\nimage of the red and blue infinite in which life pulses\nat a given speed. Adjust yourself any way you please:\nto regard the universe, or to interrogate your heart;\nit cannot be done without fatigue. All ends with a red\nlamp balanced against the wind, and later, the horses\nhaving delivered the parcel, trotting briskly along the\npavement of the suburbs.\nSun of cries without reason, mad plants, the earth\nflees we know not where and we press the tablets of\nphysical law against our vest-pockets with little\ncommendatory smiles. With what great ingenuity we\nbind for ourselves with ribbon-formulae a bouquet of\nmarguerites and of roses, the functions of space and\ntime yielding indulgently to our will! In the meantime\nI am quite beautifully lost in duration, and my move-\nments are restricted from just here to there. But I feel\nmore and more, I almost said with every day, the"}, {"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "7", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.9", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1079, "texte": "elements of my consciousness rotting- and melting.\nI have only to give utterance to a few more of such\nnotions and it is all over with my chances of getting\nback to the land of clocks. And yet, it is the gradual\ndisintegration of my personality that I have the strongest\nmisgivings about. Since I am alone I cannot go mad.\nThe sponges of silence, the crystals of vacuum, where\nwas I amongst them? I hurry on, bicyclist lost after\nthe departure of the rear wheel, maintaining myself\nmiraculously by one perpetual revolution. Equilibrium\ndenotes nothing but unstable position, or habitual\ndifficulty, if you will. Yes, crawling fear has its little\nday of terror. I choke now and then through forgetting\nto breathe at regular intervals. Sensuousness in this\nbrothel-world! Best not to think of it. The geometrical\nprogression of lust is not conceived as apart from all\ncontinuity. The four operations, very nice to talk about.\nFly in sticky-paper, inkwell of clouds, who will give\nme back the fancy-cake with an Eiffel Tower relief,\nthe City of Light, as it is called.\n\nLOUIS ARAGON"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaay-1922-01-c004", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaay_1922_01#c004", "volume": "bmtnaay_1922_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "8", "page_fin": "8", "image_debut": 10, "image_fin": 10, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.2.4", "titre_corps": "PERIPATETICS", "titre_sommaire": "PERIPATETICS", "signature_source": "MATTHEW JOSEPHSON", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 10, "page_imprimee": "8", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.10", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1675, "texte": "PERIPATETICS\nMATTHEW JOSEPHSON\n1\nDo not sway thus from side to side thin young\nwoman with one breast the left, crushing a book against\nthis. I, utterly curious shall walk behind thee monster.\nIt will, doubtless, take many quibbling miles before I\nhave gulped thee, whole, into my system. Let us walk\na little further and all will be very simple.\n2\nIf I, you, the mussels, the oysters, the ham, the\nlobster, the artichoke, should all yawn and agree that\nit were time to get up and march across the tables\nform a procession and crawl thoughtfully into the\nstreet order sunlight a flourish an electric baton a zebra\nin advance an elephant supporting the rear — would\nthey then disagree with us? would they be willing to\nconsider another point of view and lay it before us\nreasonably ?\n3\nReturning at evening to my dear door in the\ncourtyard my knees trembling with exhaustion, here\nwhere no flowers have begun burgeoning, nothing\ncommenced clasping my senses (I am about yearning\nfor the brown old streets again with the high walls\nI have just left: the Street of the Honest Burgher, the\nStreet of the Wooden Sword, the Street of the Four\nDaugthers as well as that of the Four Winds where\nI promenaded modifying my conceptions to conform\nwith just and mild skepticisms), I am now burning to\ntest my knowledge of the way in their evening aspect\n(could the method fail?) when the peaceful nunneries\nof the grilled windows would pose new and arresting\nriddles; thence to return to my door with my pausing\nand reflective key to consider it all again and turn or\nturn the key.\nJ A &\n4\nI shall not grow bald; whatsoever,\nI shall hang on to my hair by the hair.\n* Dedicated to G. B. M."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaay-1922-01-c005", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaay_1922_01#c005", "volume": "bmtnaay_1922_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "9", "page_fin": "13", "image_debut": 11, "image_fin": 15, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.2.5", "titre_corps": "APOLLINAIRE: OR LET US BE TROUBADOURS", "titre_sommaire": "APOLLINAIRE: OR LET US BE TROUBADOURS", "signature_source": "WILL BRAY", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "9", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.11", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2065, "texte": "APOLLINAIRE: OR LET US BE\nTROUBADOURS\n\nOne of the first illusions to be rejected upon con-\ntact with European letters in the flesh is that the\npresent generation consists of exthausted and disenchant-\ned young- men. Nothing could have been more\nunfounded. There is far more danger, I am told, of\nthe present American generation exhausting itself in\nattempting to dent the stupidity of its art-patrons, its\ncensors, its inarticulate loosebrained prophets.\nThey are not exhausted, these young men who have\nsurvived 1914—1918. Witness the excellent morale of\nthe writers of the avant-garde in France who, in iso-\nlation from the rest of their countrymen, have com-\npletely forgotten the war. Talented, extravagant,\nintolerant, fun-loving, these young writers whether of\nDada affiliations or not have broken with the direct\nline of French literature. The fifty or sixty crowned\npoets of the pre-war era from Mallarme to Paul Fort,\nall of whom de Gourmont treats with such encyclo-\npaedic precision, and some of whom Amy Lowell\nintroduced belatedly and inaccurately to the American\npublic, — these have all been immolated. There is a\nbrisk inclination to forget the silver age of twenty\nyears or so preceding the war which was dominated\nby such sterile traditions as those of de Regnier,\nBarres, Moreas, Anatole France, de Gourmont.\nIn the main line from the tendencies of yesterday\nfalls the group dominated by Andre Gide and associa-\nted with the Nouvelle Revue Francaise. In its most\ncharacteristic contributors, Andre Salmon, Jean Girau-\ndoux, Paul Morand, there is a certain penchant for\nmockery, a certain cleverness at the comedy of manners.\nBut in none of these writers has there been a clean\nbreak with the artistic conceptions of the foregoing era.\nInasmuch as the majority of French writers are still\nreiterating the a little frozen beauties of the Symbo-\nlists or the vers-libre universitaire of Laforgue there\nis very little to hope for. One meets with a great\nmany names in the throng of reviews and books pub-\nlished and commented upon every day. They are"}, {"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "10", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.12", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2232, "texte": "blurred with indistinctness in the recollection of them.\nThey scarcely ruffle the surface. The similarity of one\npersonality to another is significant, their divergences\nunimportant.\nThe age has been at the mercy of the small tal-\nents and the war has scarcely sifted them into big or\nlittle ones. What is worse, it has even placed false\nstress on the mysticism of Peguy and Claudel, or\nshifted attention to the raucous insincere „modernism\"\nof Jean Cocteau. This last gentleman, a Maecenas of\nthe arts, an idol of the boulevards, a rastoquere, whose\npoetry has the taste of bran and leaves a perfect blank\nin the brain, — this person has been presented by\nindiscriminate American interpreters as the last word... of\nParis.\nIn the turbulent „advance guard\" of letters there\nis, however, something to be reckoned with. One meets\nan unexpected sincerity, a desperate willingness to go\nto any lengths of violence in opposing the old regime.\nThe young men who operated „Litterature\" for two\nyears, Louis Aragon, Philippe Soupault, Andre Breton\nare certainly youthful as individuals and as a group\nor „movement\" (in this nation of groups) and what\nthey have done has not altogether assumed permanent\nvalue. But one takes much hope from their quick in-\ntelligence, their sensibility, their vigorous and fun-loving\ndisposition. They are inventive to an extreme degree\nand are utterly without blague or snobbery. They are\nbent frankly on unbounded adventures and experiments\nwith modern phenomena. They have been stimulated\nby Rimbaud and Lautreamont, who demonstrated, for\ninstance, that although nature had always been painted\nas a static landscape in literature it could be render-\ned in subjective motion or in any of a thousand states.\nThe Apollinaire strain is in these writers. One of\nthe last things that Guillaume Apollinaire wrote con-\ncerned the field which was left to the poets of this age.\nApollinaire, arch-intransigeant and forerunner of almost\neverything of importance, I fear, that will take place\nin the literature of the next generation, urged the poets\nof this time to be at least as daring as the mechanical\nwizards who exploited the airplane, wireless telegraphy,\nchemistry, the submarine, the cinema, the phonograph,"}, {"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "11", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.13", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2174, "texte": "what-not. The innovations of the past generation, have\nbeen astounding-. The recent conquests of man over\nnature have in many cases realized the fables of an-\ncient times. It is for the modern poet to create the\nmyths and fables which are to be realized in suc-\nceeding ages.\n„Is there nothing new under the sun ?\" asks Apolli-\nnaire. „Nothing — for the sun, perhaps. But for man —\neverything!\" The poet is to stop at nothing in his\nquest for novelty of shape and material; he is to take\nadvantage of the possibilities for infinite combinations,\nthe new equipment afforded by the cinema, phonograph,\ndictaphone, airplane, wireless. What he creates out\nof these new conditions, these new instruments, or the\nre-percussions which these things have had on our life,\nwill be the material the folk-elements, if you will, of\nthe myths and fables for the future.\nTouching definitely on the form or technique of\npoetry Apollinaire regards vers libre as only a fraction\nof the possible contributions to the media of poetry.\nThere is an infinite amount of discovery to be made, he\nsuggests, with alliteration, with assonance, with typo-\ngraphical arrangements such as give new visual and\nauditory sensations to the reader.\nHas anything more immediate been offered with\nreference to the ways and means of modern art than\nthese enunciations of Apollinaire? He goes even\nfarther than the suggestions I have quoted. There is\nthe forecast of possibly some poet or super-artist, who\nlike a modern orchestra conductor will have at his\nbaton a hundred or a thousand different instruments,\nor sciences, or mechanisms. This enormous army of\nsymphony (as I have always dreamed it, at least) would\nfill a prodigious amphitheatre, against which the Grosses\nSchauspielhaus of Berlin would shrink in the comparison.\nThe audience of course would be one man, on\nthe stage . . .\nWe shall not discuss these bewildering possibilities\nfor the moment. It suffices that proceeding with the\nconception of a modern folk-lore we are justified in\ntraversing all the ramifications of modern man, all the\nfar flung discordant exigencies of the present spectacle,\nwhether they be in an office building of New York,"}, {"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "12", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.14", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2270, "texte": "in the grand hall of the Aquitania on the Atlantic, or\nin an airplane volplaning felicitously down on Warsaw.\nThe literature of Louis Aragon, Andre Breton, Paul\nEluard, Philippe Soupault, Tristan Tzar a is an exhilarating\nrecord. Tzara's poems are as naturally expressive of the\nbeauty of this age as Herrick's are of the 17 th Century.\nWith an utterly simple and unaffected touch they employ\nall the instruments of the time, the streetcar, the bill-\nposter, the automobile, the incandescent light, etc. The\npoems are not modern because they indicate: „I was\nriding in the tramway\" (instead of a diligence), but\nbecause the tramway gets into the very rhythm, form\nand texture of the poems.\nIn the prose of Louis Aragon there is the speed and\nvividness of the motion picture, a constant and uproarious\ndialectic, and a volume and richness that is quite\ndistinguished after so much thin and lucid French prose.\nThe humor is not of human foibles so much as of\nsmoothly functioning swiftly moving modern devices.\nThe influences of the up-to-date detective and the\nAmerican cinema are strongly evident. There are marvel-\nous American films whose characters, out of all the\nsincerity of the director's heart, make the most pre-\nposterous, imbecilic and imaginative gestures. There is\nmuch of this terrifying beauty in Aragon's stories.\nLes Champs Magnetiques, which Andre Breton and\nPhilippe Soupault wrote in collaboration is another com-\nmanding book of prose. It rejects plot as completely\nas Joyce's Ulysses does, but goes even farther in\ndisavowing even such a precise and inchoate verisimilitude\nas Joyce employs. The book achieves an upheaval of\nmethods. Take a single sentence or a paragraph and\nit is, alone, rich-and-beautiful, but means nothing without\nits context. For the writers instead of attempting to\nexpress human drama by definite words or phrases\nindicating so many incidents or details, work for an\neffect of growth in their theme by a large continued\nrhythm. The prose changes its blend and intensity of\nlight, spatters its broken tracts of conversation or cogita-\ntion, gathering a large momentum through the succession\nof chapters rather than sentences. This is simply another\ncase of literature coming abreast of modern painting\nor sculpture or music."}, {"page_pdf": 15, "page_imprimee": "13", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.15", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1683, "texte": "The poems of Paul Eluard in Exemples, with their\nbright hardness and their artfully chosen typographical\nappearances suggest curious and tortured movements\na little beyond the reverberations of the words. They\nare dominated by a piercing humor which is however\nquite unlike Aragon's or Jarry's.\nThe conviction strengthens here and there among\nthe extreme young who are jealous of their liberty that\nthe modern folk-lore of which Apollinaire spoke is\ntaking shape. These young writers are of considerable\ningenuity and charm. Their work seems clean; they are\nnot tangled up in messy Parnassian paraphernalia; they\ndo not fumble with the old cliches. These observations\nare the basis for my initial assertion that France is not\nexhausted. Nor is Europe, in that case. One feels curiously\nas if a great developing movement, a momentous front-\ndrive were getting under way.\nOn the other hand, the conviction comes that Ameri-\ncans need play no subservient part in this movement.\nIt is no occasion for aping European or Parisian tenden-\ncies. Quite the reverse, Europe is being Americanized.\nAmerican institutions, inventions, the very local conditions\nof the United States are being duplicated, are being „put\nover\" daily in Europe. One has only to visit Berlin, for in-\nstance, in 1922 to witness this phenomenon.The complexion\nof the life of the United States has been transformed so\nrapidly and so daringly that its writers and artists are\nrendered a strategic advantage. They need only react\nfaithfully and imaginatively to the brilliant minutiae of\nher daily existence in the big cities, in the great\nindustrial regions, athwart her marvelous and young\nmechanical forces.\n\nWILL BRAY"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaay-1922-01-c006", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaay_1922_01#c006", "volume": "bmtnaay_1922_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "14", "page_fin": "14", "image_debut": 16, "image_fin": 16, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.2.6", "titre_corps": "instant note brother", "titre_sommaire": "instant note brother", "signature_source": "TRISTAN TZARA", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "14", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.16", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 707, "texte": "TRISTAN TZARA\ninstant note brother\nnothing- rises nothing1 descends\nno horizontal movement\nhe arises\nnothing stirs neither being nor non —\nbeing nor the idea nor the prisoner\nchained nor the tramway\nhe hears nothing other than himself\nunderstands nothing other than the\nchairs the stone the cold the water . . .\nknows to pass through solid\nmatter\nhaving no more need of eyes he\nthrows them away in the street\nlast burst of blood in the\ndusk\nlast flourish\nhe tears out his tongue — flame\ntransfixed by a star\nquieted\nautumn dead like a leaf\nof red palm\nand reabsorbs that which he denied\nand dissolves the project in the other\nhemisphere second season of\nexistence\nas the nails and the hairs\ncross and return"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaay-1922-01-c007", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaay_1922_01#c007", "volume": "bmtnaay_1922_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "15", "page_fin": "19", "image_debut": 17, "image_fin": 21, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.2.7", "titre_corps": "A BOW TO THE ADVENTUROUS", "titre_sommaire": "A BOW TO THE ADVENTUROUS", "signature_source": "G. B. M", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "15", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.17", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2138, "texte": "A BOW TO THE ADVENTUROUS\n\nWhat is the attitude of the critic toward the range\nof subject matter suitable for literature? What is the\nattitude of other literary artists toward the same?\nIsidore Ducasse does not directly raise these ques-\ntions in the curious preface to his lost Poesies, but\nthey constitute the chief protuberances in my reflec-\ntions upon his emphatic assertions. Here was a youth,\nborn in 1850 and dead in 1870, author of the Chants\nde Maldoror, a legend about himself, and Poesies, who\nbased his violent reaction against the poetry of his\ncentury purely upon its subject matter. „Je remplace\nla melancolie par le courage, le doute par la certitude,\nle desespoir par l'espoir, la mechanete par le bien, les\nplaintes par le devoir, le scepticisme par la foi, les\nsophismes par la froideur du calme et l'orgueil par la\nmodestie.\" With a dauntless courage, he denounces\nChateaubriand, Senancourt, Jean-Jaques Rousseau, Anne\nRadcliffe, Edgar Allan Poe, Mathurin, Gautier, Leconte,\nGoethe. Sainte-Beuve, Lamartine, Lermontoff, Victor\nHugo, Mickiewicz, de Musset, Byron, Baudelaire and\nFlaubert. „Grands-Tetes-Molles,\" he dubs them. „Si\nvous etes malheureux, il ne faut pas le dire au lecteur.\nGardez cela pour vous.\" There is no discussion of the\nmanner in which these writers employed their subject\nmatter nor of the esthetic states they may produce.\nThey chose subject matter the temperament of Ducasse\ndetested. He erected his prejudices into general dog-\nmatisms and declared that, therefore, their poetry\nwould not endure. Lately, the Dadaists, partly through\nsome affinity with his views on subject matter, have\nhoisted Ducasse from his obscurity.\nThe case of Ducasse gives, I think, a frequent\nanswer to our second question. A poet or a novelist\nof specialized gifts seeks for subject matter which will\nwork like an explosive in him. Much leaves him cold,\nbut here and there he finds materials which heat him\ninto expression. Sorrow forces one poet to tearful\nexpression, praise of a beneficent god another to\njoyful affirmatives; that which a naturalistic novelist\nleaves out fires an idealistic narrator. Each, if he"}, {"page_pdf": 18, "page_imprimee": "16", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.18", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2221, "texte": "knows what he is about, cultivates jealously his own\npropensities: each narrows the field to his own\ntemperament and then digs as deeply as he can:\neach, unless he happens also to be a critic, is tempted\nto say that the subject matter which appeals to him\nis the best and even the only subject matter for the\nart he practices. We cannot quarrel with him.\nBut the answer to the first question is the reverse\nof this. The critic works after the fact. The catholic\nspirit, which has surveyed the staggering diversity of\nliterature vertically through the ages and horizontally\nacross the nations, which has noted the quality of\nsurprize which attaches to esthetic production, which\nis in touch with the astonishing experiments of modern\nwriters, which has experienced good states of mind\nfrom absolutely contradictory subject matter, can make\nonly one answer. The range of subject matter suitable\nfor literature is unlimited. In art as in love, so de\nGourmont said, everything is possible. To put restric-\ntions on the range of subject matter is to be guilty\nof provincialism both of time and of place.\nBeing human, the critic has his prejudices, of course.\nI, for example, am more interested by the psychological\nhesitations of the characters in a Henry James novel\nthan I am by the slow thinking of the hill-folk in\nKnut Hamsum's Growth of the Soil. But that does not\nprevent the perception that Hamsum has fitted his\ndiction to his dynamic realities, set his effects into\nrelief and balance, and otherwise forced his rude ma-\nrerials into a significant esthetic organization. From\nthat I can extract enjoyment although in a more\nmoderate degree than if I had been of a temperament\nmore responsive to his subject matter. The primary\ntask of a critic is to make allowances for his preju-\ndices, to examine the relation between a writer and\nhis dynamic reality (subject matter), and to ascertain\nthe quality of the state of mind induced by the pre-\ncipitate of this relationship. Catholicity may be a vice\nfor a poet or fiction writer: it is always a virtue for\nthe critic.\nOne poem of this number, In A Cafe by the pre-\ncocious Will Bray, serves admirably to knot this dis-\ncussion into an example. Although the Bible refers"}, {"page_pdf": 19, "page_imprimee": "17", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.19", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2207, "texte": "to the bodily necessity he has so cleverly understated\nand Rabelais, Cervantes, Mark Twain (in ~1601\"),\nHuysmans and Apollinaire have made varying- use of\nit, Bray invades subject matter that most people and\nmost poets would condemn as unsuitable for literature.\nYet Bray saw a certain humorous significance in the\noccasion which he conveys to us by rhythms, invent-\niveness and adroit evasions. We can perceive his loyalty\nto his stimulus, note the manner in which this loyalty\nhas been made concrete, and experience an esthetic\nsatisfaction from the solution of his problem.\nIn sum, criticism says to the other arts: Use any\nsubject you wish. My concern is in the state of mind\nyou create with it.\nAnother poem printed here, that by Tristan Tzara,\nwill assist in developing this conclusion. (I do not, at\npresent, vouch for the bulk of Tzara's activities but\nhe has written several indubitable poems.) In this poem,\nTzara contrives an abstract* organization. He departs\naltogether from conventional coherent intelligible sub-\nject material and gives us instead a controlled series\nof physical sensations. The effect is as unalloyed with\nintellectual and extra-esthetic reactions as those of\nmusic or cubist painting. Yet it cannot be defined in\nterms of musical or painting criticism nor very well\nby literary criticism since that is lamentably weak in\nits own esthetic vocabulary. Tzara s word arrangement\napproaches mathematics. (There is some reason for\nbelieving that the ecstasy arising from the solving of\na complicated mathematical problem is very much akin\nto the esthetic emotion.) What he does here is, by\nmeans of words, to make a pattern of sharp arrest,\ndead calm, rising motion, developed calm, progress,\nspreading out, contraction and final collapse that\nleaves us physically satisfied. And emotionally satisfied.\nHis is an abstractness as devoid of idea-emotions as\nmusic or painting can be but still belonging very\ndefinitely to words.\nSatisfying as this is, it nevertheless causes speculation\nupon the depth, solidity and interior organization of\n* Abstract, like romantic and realistic, is an indicative finger\nfor certain readily perceived phenomena, but not a precise de-\nfining term."}, {"page_pdf": 20, "page_imprimee": "18", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.20", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2314, "texte": "writing. It brings us to a consideration of the esthetic\npower of a writer's material. The writer s material?\nIs it words filed as clean of all their connotations and\nideational meanings as a curve or a spread of color is?\nOr is it precisely those connotations and meanings,\nthose idea-emotions, that are the writer's material?\nThe sign or the things for which the sign stands?\nTzara is headed towards a sign esthetic. His poetry is\na challenge to further research in the esthetic nature of\nwords. My tentative belief, however, is that there are\nvery restricted walls for an art based on signs and that\nthe proper materials are those things which they\nsymbolize. Abstract painting does all the essential things\nthat representative painting, if it is of value, does. Both\nare good for the same reason. But abstract literature,\nto date, falls short of representative literature because\nit has not yet conquered a literary third dimension,\ncannot expand very far into an interior organization.\nThat is, I conceive the psychological, social, idea-\nemotional, interpretative, etc., values of an organized\npiece of writing to be the only means a novelist, let\nus say, has to give a feeling of documentary solidity.\nThey can be detached from his design, but, if he uses\nthem as an artist, they serve to weight and energize\nhis scheme. Let us note, then, that there are certain\ngrandly serious elements of life and certain very trivial\nconstituents. This means that the power of subject\nmatter varies and leads to another tentative conclusion.\nThe more documentary solidity a writer can give his\nwork provided he can control surfaces proportioned to\nthis interior development, the deeper and fuller response\nhe can create.\nWith more certainty it may be said that there is a\nshifting importance attached to the multitudinous subjects\nwhich writers use and that there come periods when\neven the grandly serious things are of less importance\nfor literary production than the minor facets of life.\nThis is, in part, due to the operation of a law of fatigue\nupon esthetic emotion. Certain subject matter, let us\nsay doubt, melancholy, speculation upon insolubles,\nexploited again and again in an era, gradually loses its\npotency and calls forth weaker and weaker replies.\nIt is necessary to turn to other materials, courage and"}, {"page_pdf": 21, "page_imprimee": "19", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.21", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1523, "texte": "certitude, minor moods perhaps, to evoke fresh strong\nresponses. These assume for a time greater potency\nthan their mighty predecessors. The literary history of\nFrance from 1830 to 1922 is replete with examples of\nreactions of this sort, the last being the present brilliant\nactivities of Messieurs Aragon, Breton, Eluard, Soupault,\net al. The exhaustion of certain literary forms, as, for\ninstance, the Flaubertian novel-form seems to be exhausted\ntoday also shifts the importance of subject matter.\nExperiment and discovery of new methods can\noften be conducted better if what the writer has to\nsay is not so overwhelmingly urgent that he must say\nit at all cost. The presentation rather than the matter\nmust be his urgency and his attention is more efficiently\nspent upon that if it is less distracted by the subject\nmatter. This reduces to the simple statement: in some\nperiods what a writer says is of supreme importance\nto the esthetic emotion, in others the evasion of the\ngrandly serious is the most provocative.\nSecession exists for those writers who are preoccupied\nwith researches for new forms. It hopes that there is\nready for it an American public which has advanced\nbeyond the fiction and poetry of Sinclair Lewis and\nSherwood Anderson and the criticism of Paul Rosen-\nfeld and Louis Untermeyer.\nInterested readers may look up an important origin\nand a general program for Secession in an essay by\nMalcolm Cowley entitled „This Youngest Generation\nN. Y. Evening Post Literary Review, oct. 18, 1921.\n\nG. B. M."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaay-1922-01-c008", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaay_1922_01#c008", "volume": "bmtnaay_1922_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "20", "page_fin": "21", "image_debut": 22, "image_fin": 23, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.2.8", "titre_corps": "UNPUBLISHED FRAGMENT FROM MR. AA THE ANTIPHILOSOPHER", "titre_sommaire": "UNPUBLISHED FRAGMENT FROM MR. AA THE ANTIPHILOSOPHER", "signature_source": "TRISTAN TZARA", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 22, "page_imprimee": "20", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.22", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2049, "texte": "UNPUBLISHED FRAGMENT FROM MR. AA\nTHE ANTIPHILOSOPHER\n\nWhen the eyes transcend their orbit the cravat of\nthe branches strangles the English foliage dressed in\nhigh silk hat white gloves and patent leather slippers\nof ardent chlorophyl. What said my friend you do not\nbelieve in the existence of parallels even though they\nprolong and renew themselves. The finale of symphony\nis hard the music cannot end without cutting up the\nfragments of beauty into yet smaller pieces and be-\nginning over again. It is too bad said he again we\nshall never know whether it is the wind that bends\nthe blade of grass or the blade of grass that bends\nthe wind. Put the grass in some place where there is\nno wind — i believe in neither common sense nor\nparadox. My plane has no wind no grass it has no\nplace it has no flies. Live without reaction without\nmoods without false tempests. My plane loves ennui and\nthe uncertain colors and the bisexual paths my plane\nresembles all other planes and its men all other men\ngood God there is no happiness anywhere life passes\nas it passes the only happiness is to know ennui the\npoet-insects shut themselves up in their towers of choco-\nlate on the mountain of Zarathustra they are the gen-\niuses who with their secretaries go into town twice a\nday to telephone to the printer and measure by the\nscale of animal pride the results of their compromises.\nMy dear Tzara let us have done with the purity and\nthe impurity of the mind and the Parisian temperament\nthe Academy and Spain as well as all the Spanish\ndead living anarchists or Indians indeed all such flip-\npancies cold and cynical as exist or do not exist in\ncoarse brains functioning like stomachs. The amassing\nbrain — bah 'tis nothing but a crab that stayed behind\nin the chowder and made believe he was an emperor.\nIt was a brave chowder with brass music and travel-\npictures.\nHow do you do what already very well rescussitate\nin the wind no matter where how are you says my\nfriend iam very well thank you do you want\na light he says the ruffled bird might pass as an"}, {"page_pdf": 23, "page_imprimee": "21", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.23", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 234, "texte": "eyebrow for the dusk expiring of so much beautiful\nmusic said he how are you what already iam\nvery well thank you rescussitate in the wind any-\nwhere how are you says my friend iam very\nwell do you want a light says he.\n\nTRISTAN TZARA"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaay-1922-01-c009", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaay_1922_01#c009", "volume": "bmtnaay_1922_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "21", "page_fin": "21", "image_debut": 23, "image_fin": 23, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.2.9", "titre_corps": "IN A CAFÉ", "titre_sommaire": "IN A CAFÉ", "signature_source": "WILL BRAY", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 23, "page_imprimee": "21", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.23", "debut_caractere": 277, "fin_caractere_exclue": 700, "texte": "IN A CAFÉ\nWILL BRAY\nHe — You are a sweet girl\nand I shall throw you into the river\nyou are a sweet girl\nand I shall buy you narcissi\nyou are a sweet girl\nand I shall give you wormwood\nyou are a sweet girl\nand I shall chew your ear\nyou are a sweet girl\nand I shall leave you for a moment\nShe — I am going to leave you for a moment\nHe 1 am sroiner to leave You for a moment\nleave YOU\nleave YOU\na moment\n#\na moment\noh well\noh!"}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaay-1922-01-c010", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaay_1922_01#c010", "volume": "bmtnaay_1922_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "22", "page_fin": "24", "image_debut": 24, "image_fin": 26, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.2.10", "titre_corps": "EXPOSÉ No. 1", "titre_sommaire": "EXPOSÉ No. 1", "signature_source": "G. B. M", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 24, "page_imprimee": "22", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.24", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1993, "texte": "EXPOSÉ No. 1\n\nThe Dial is, I suppose, generally considered to be\nAmerica's leading magazine of literary expression. One\ncritic has even called it the recognized organ of the\nyoung generation! True, there is not much competition\nfor these honors, and the career of the Little Review\nhas been sufficiently obscure for the reclame brought\nby size, money, circulation and famous names to over-\nshadow it in public esteem. What, then, is our „leader\"\nlike?\nIt boasts: „We have freed ourselves from commer-\ncialism and manifestos, from schoolmen and little\nschools, from a little nationalism and a snobbish cos-\nmopolitanism\". That is, it has freed itself from a fixed\npoint for judging, the absence of which for morality\nPascal found so lamentable, but which happily exists\nfor art. It has liberated itself from a definite direction.\nIt feels no obligation to homogeneity. Naturally, its\nchief effect is one of diffuseness. It is late Victorian,\nYellow Book, philosophic, naturalistic, professorial,\ndadaistic, traditional, experimental, wise, silly, inter-\nnational and nationalistically concerned in a developing\nliterature. It prints Anatole France, Thomas Hardy,\nSantayana, Yeats, Beerbohm, Sherwood Anderson,\nPierre Loving (!), professorial articles on German\nliterature and Thomas Moore, Kenneth Burke, E. E.\nCummings, James Oppenheim, Mina Loy, Ezra Pound,\nJean Cocteau, D. H. Lawrence and an article on\nHigher Education in China! A stringent catholicity is\nadmirable, but where is the reconciliation here? With\nthis array of irreconcilables, it is no wonder a copy\nof the Dial gives the impression of splitting apart in\none's hand.\nAs an intellectual cable across the Atlantic, the\nDial has informed America that Remy de Gourmont\nhas lived and died. The news of Guillaume Apollinaire\nis still * untransmitted.\nIt features a wallowing ox of a stylist who retails\neach month acres of vague impressionistic excrement\non music, painting, and books. Still, his uncouth attempts\n* February, 1922."}, {"page_pdf": 25, "page_imprimee": "23", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.25", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 2273, "texte": "at new sentence rhythms, word coinage, and telling\ninversions give more hilarity than pain. But this soft\nplace next to Marianne Moore!\nThe final seal has been stamped by the announcement\nthat the 1921 Dial Award has been bestowed upon Sher-\nwood Anderson. It was stated that „the award will go to a\nyoung American writer, one of our contributors, in\nrecognition of his service to American letters ... to\nbe given annually to one who has already accomplished\na service, yet has not completed his work . . . intended\nfor encouragement and opportunity\" for leisure, 1 infer.\nIt went to a man forty-five years old and by no means\nin a seriously impecunious position. Inasmuch as the\nroyalties from six books and frequent payments from\nseveral magazines eager for his work have, of late\nyears, enabled him to support a family, devote all his\ntime to writing, and take a summer's trip to Europe.\nAn established writer, in short. The approach to arti-\nculateness of this author I have traced in detail in an\nessay now floating around somewhere in America. Let\nme extract a few points without supporting them again.\n1. The impulse which produced Windy Mac Pherson's\nSon and Marching Men was thin. Anderson, inßrentano's\ntrade paper, spring of 1921, declares they were written\nfrom an emulative desire worked up by reading other\nnovels. 2. I agree with his preface statement to Miid-\nAmerican Chants that he can do .nothing as yet „but\nmutter and feel our way toward the promise of song\".\n3. The key-sentence to Winesburg, Ohio is „One\nshudders at the meaninglessness of life while at the\nsame instant and if the people of the town are his\npeople, one loves life so intensely that tears come into\nthe eyes\". This translates into „I have nothing to\noppose to the meaninglessness of life but a sentimental\nattachment for my fellow townsmen\". 4. Anderson has\nno control of diction, not even the elementary man-\nagement of sentence mechanics that syntax can give.\nThere are many examples. Witness one from Poor White.\n„Standing on a high cliff and with a grove of trees\nat his back, the stars seemed to have all gathered in\nthe eastern sky\". 5. Anderson's formula for writing is\na psychological, not an esthetic one. Vide Brentano's\ntrade paper, spring of 1921. 6. He correctly regrets"}, {"page_pdf": 26, "page_imprimee": "24", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.26", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1641, "texte": "in the Triumph of the Egg, „I have a wonderful story\nto tell, but I know no way to tell it\", since his diction,\nconstruction, characters, ideas, and emotions are in a\nmost hopeless sprawl. He is, literally, a monotonous\npilgrim on the road from nowhere into nothing. In\neverything in writing that the generation under twenty-\nfive values, he is incomplete.\n„ . . . what makes us understand the rack and the\nwheel is the assurance from our friends that if we\ndropped everything modern we should have a great\nmagazine. Possibly they are right. We will not say\nthat in that case we should have a great dead\nmagazine; but we are certain that we should be doing\nhalf our job and no more\". — The Dial The Dial\ncondescends to include certain young writers, some of\nwhom are both very promising and desperately\nimpecunious. Motives of safety, shall we say since its\neditors have repudiated commercialism, lead it to\ninsulate them by the cooling remains of pre-war\nliterature and to assign its award to a man with an\ninfluential public.\nIt would be less compromising to go one way or\nthe other. Stay on dry land like the Atlantic Monthly\nor leap headfirst into the contemporary stream. If you\nwish a good swim, take off your life-belt!\nI should not like to see the Dial annihilated, but\nI should enjoy seeing its pretences abandoned. Vulga-\nrization is a legitimate business. Some large,American\npublisher might well bring out the Dial as Emile Paul\nFreres publishes Les Ecrits Nouveaux. That would be\na frank undertaking.\nThe existence of this Yale - Review -in- a - Harvard -\nblazer is one of the bitter necessities calling for Secession.\n\nG. B. M."}]}, {"article_id": "bm-bmtnaay-1922-01-c011", "article_bluemountain": "bmtnaay_1922_01#c011", "volume": "bmtnaay_1922_01", "ocr_source": "OCR Blue Mountain (ALTO), transcription TEI : lignes lb/@facs", "texte_sans_correction": true, "page_debut": "[25]", "page_fin": "[26]", "image_debut": 27, "image_fin": 28, "pages_selon": "pagination imprimée relevée dans le METS Blue Mountain (ORDERLABEL) ; [n] = page sans folio restituée", "url_article": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.2.11", "titre_corps": "AN OLD SONG TO NEW MUSIC", "titre_sommaire": "AN OLD SONG TO NEW MUSIC", "signature_source": "Isidore Ducasse (Comte De Lautrémont", "controle": "bornes données par la structure logique METS/ALTO de Blue Mountain (blocs ALTO de chaque constituant)", "pages": [{"page_pdf": 27, "page_imprimee": "[25]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.27", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 1538, "texte": "AN OLD SONG TO NEW MUSIC\n\nThe Director pledges his energies for at least two\nyears to the continuance of Secession. Beyond a two\nyear span, observation shows, the vitality of most re-\nviews is lowered and their contribution, accomplished,\nbecomes repetitious and unnecessary. Secession will\ntake care to avoid moribundity.\nSecession is taking advantage of low printing costs\nin the Central Powers. This means that, whereas most\nmagazines of the arts in America must appeal for thou-\nsands of dollars in order to attain to any size or\ndistribution, Secession can equal them by the expen-\nditure of a few hundreds.\nThis fact affords the sophisticated, regardless of\nthe size of the bank accounts in their names, an unu-\nsual opportunity to resume the honored role of literary\npatron — at present neglected by a leisure class with-\nout the knowledge of enjoying their leisure.\nBy the gift of only five dollars (more, if you like)\ntowards the expenses of each of six successive numbers,\nyou may become a Patron of Secession. Patronage\ngifts are payable upon notice from the Treasurer a\nshort time in advance of the publication of each num-\nber. Patrons receive two subscriptions, invitations to\nSecession soirees, and whatever other special privileges\nwe can give them. A sufficient amount of patronage\nwill produce a larger, more handsome Secession, print-\ned ten times a year. It will enable us to make moder-\nate payment for manuscripts.\nEnthusiasts are invited to address Peter K. Hurwitz,\nTreasurer, 1361 — 46 Street, Brooklyn, New York."}, {"page_pdf": 28, "page_imprimee": "[26]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.28", "debut_caractere": 0, "fin_caractere_exclue": 109, "texte": "Je ne permets a personne, pas meme a Elohim de\ndouter de ma sincerite.\n\nIsidore Ducasse\n(Comte De Lautrémont)"}]}], "pages_ocr_originales": [{"page_pdf": 1, "page_imprimee": "couv. 1", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.1", "texte": "SECESSION\nNUMBER ONE\nVIENNA\nTWENTY CENTS"}, {"page_pdf": 2, "page_imprimee": "n. p.", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.2", "texte": "DIRECTOR: GORHAM MUNSON\nTemporary editorial office : Hotel Zenit, Vienna, Austria\nBusiness office : Peter K. Hurwitz, Treasurer, 1361 - 46 Street, Brooklyn,\nNew York\nAddress all correspondence, editorial and business, to Peter K. Hurwitz,\nTreasurer, 1361 - 46 Street, Brooklyn, New York\nPRICE OF THIS NUMBER\n20 cents in America 2 francs 50 in France 1 shilling- in England\nSubscriptions, $ 1.00, 12 francs, or 5 shillings for six numbers\nB\nNUMBER ONE SPRING 1922\n%\n\nIDENTITY CARDS\nLouis Aragon; A youthful student of medicine who served in the\nwar. Poet, novelist, critic, co-director of Litterateur\nand associate editor of Aventure, the two organs\nof the youngest French generation in letters.\nWill Bray: He has covered at prodigious speed an enormous\namount of literary territory during his nineteen\nyears. He has lived alternately in America and in\nFrance and writes in both languages.\nMalcolm Cowley: A contributor of poetry and essays to a number\nof publications, including the Dial, the Little\nReview, the N. Y. Evening Post Literary Review.\nHe graduated from Harvard not long ago and is\nliving in Montpellier, France, at present.\nMatthew Josephson: A recent graduate of Columbia University and a\nresident of Paris. He has been published by\nPoetry: A Magazine of Verse. Lately, he joined\nthe staff of Aventure. A helpful counselor at the\nmeetings in Paris which planned Secession.\nTristan Tzara: His cry, „Dada\", has travelled around the world\nfrom the Cafe Voltaire, Zurich in 1916. A Rou-\nmanian who writes in French. He is author of\nLa Premiere Aventure Celeste de Mr Antipyrine,\nVingt-Cinq Poemes and Calendrier cinema du\ncoeur abstrait."}, {"page_pdf": 3, "page_imprimee": "1", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.3", "texte": "DAY COACH\n\nI\nTickets PLEASE\nsaid the conductor, and Benjamin settled back\ninto his seat, and by this action wrapped\nsolitude about hipi like a cloak.\nStrangers brushed past him\ndown the aisle, soiling only\nthe fringes of his mantel;\nhis eyes had turned\nto watch the hills that so proceeded like awkward\nvast dancers across his eyes;\nto watch the moving\nmist of his breath as it crept along the pane.\nII\nHe says to himself\n— it is the placing\nof the foot upon the step deposited by the porter:\nit is the leisurely\nprocession with baggage up a red plush aisle:\nout of such gestures there grows\nthe act of travel.\nJohnstown, Pittsburgh: these cities\nescape the grasp of the hand\nthese cities are pimpled on hills;\nManhattan is corseted briefly about with waters.\nYou climb into a train, give a tip, open a paper, light a\ncigar, and the landscape\njerks unevenly past.\nYour knees straighten\nautomatically at Pittsburgh; a porter\ntakes the luggage, saying rapidly\n— this way to a taxi, Boss,\nthis way to a taxi,\nand the hills and fields of Pennsylvania quiver\nbehind you vaguely, the landscape of a dream."}, {"page_pdf": 4, "page_imprimee": "2", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.4", "texte": "III\nAs the other train passed he looked through the\nplate glass of the dining car — the other — and saw\na fork suspended in the air and before it had finished\nits journey he was peering into a smoking car with a\nsilver haze and four men playing cards over a suitcase\nclamped to their knees. A world, a veritable world, as\nseen beneath the microscope. A world in an envelope\nsealed with the red tail light that proceeded gravely\npast him up the track. A world sealed out of his world\nand living for thirty-five seconds of his life.\nIV\nThe lights of the train proceed\ntransversely across the water;\nacross the water strides\nthe shadow of the engineer;\nthe square barred windows move across the water\nas if they marked a prison that exists\nnever between four walls, but only moves\ncontinually across a world of waters.\nV\nHis head drooped lower gradually; he dreamed\nof the locomotive that boldly had deserted\nthe comfortable assurance of steel rails;\nit turned and leaped\nlike a beast hunted along the wooded slope.\nBMMMP\nover logs, over stones and among\nthe trees that leaned away from it as it passed,\nand all the time the engineer bending out of his cab\nand saying\n— The four fourteen will be on time at Youngsville\nthe four fourteen will be on time WON'T it, Bill.\nAnd the trees, reassured, lean back to their posts again.\nVI\nTime is marked not by hours but by cities; we are\none station before Altoona, one station beyond Altoona;"}, {"page_pdf": 5, "page_imprimee": "3", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.5", "texte": "CRESSON: change cars for Luckett, Munster and all\npoints on the line that runs tortuously back into a\nboyhood, with the burden of a day dropping like ripe\nfruit at every revolution of the driving wheel, with a\nyear lost between each of the rickety stations: Beulah\nRoad, Ebensburg, Nant-y-glo; gather your luggage and\nmove it towards the door. BIG BEND.\nVII\n0 voyagers, with you\n1 have moved like a firefly over the waters;\nwith you I was spit\nlike a cherry seed from the puckered lips of the tunnel.\nCome: let us join our hands,\ndance\nring around the rosy, farmer in the dell\naround this clucking locomotive. Come!\nAnd out of the red cabooses huddled in the yards,\nout of the engine cabs and roundhouses\nwill stream out silently to meet us\nthese others.\nCome!\nVIII\nOut of the group at the station, no form detached itself\nto meet him; the circle of their backs\nwas a wall against him. He waited\nuntil the checkerboard lights of the train had shown\nphantasmally along the shale of the cut and vanished.\nHe buttoned his coat and stumbled into the darkness,\nthe darkness proceeded along with him until\nhe picked it up and wrapped it about his shoulders,\nbending his shoulders under the weight of the darkness,\nhe stumbled away with his burden of bushes and hills.\n\nMALCOLM COWLEY"}, {"page_pdf": 6, "page_imprimee": "4", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.6", "texte": "BOTTLE FOUND AT SEA\n\nLost as I am by the edge of this profound lake in\nwhich is mirrored an unknown sky, shall I ever attain\nthe linking of my existence with the human centuries\nwhose faint trail seems scarcely to penetrate these\nregions? Even the sense of time is forgotten: whether\nI go toward yesterday or tomorrow, there is no way\nof knowing. And these words suggest nothing more,\nsince it is impossible to tell whether the ages have\nbeen arrested forever or whether their flight has been\nhastened with the uniformly accelerated rapidity of a\nbody approaching the sun. If only I had a watch with\nme to end this uncertainty. A diffuse light reigns\neternally over this world and the sun that is of space\nas well as of time has deserted this immutable firmament.\nThe lovely liquid expanse which composes my horizon\nrounds out toward the west and receives at the north-\nwest a stream that flows from the north. As far as I\ncan ascertain with the aid of my compass, its direction\nseems to be north-northeast by south-southwest. But\nhow to measure its extent? I have made the circum-\nference of the lake several times without arriving at\neven the haziest idea as to the year or minute of the\nlength of the voyage. At first glance I had estimated\nthe circumference to be a hundred miles. Later con-\njectures brought this figure up from a hundred to a\nhundred and fifty or a hundred and sixty miles. The\nactual span must be somewhere between these two\nnumbers. Nor can the time that I place at the disposal\nof this investigation serve as a yard-stick: it comprises\nanything from a few sparse thoughts to a desert of\nennui and vexation. The beatings of my pulse inform\nme no better, their irregularities born no doubt of\nthe helplessness in which 1 find myself to appraise\nequivalents amid such astounding phenomena. The\nvegetation in its development follows no habitual or\nlogical order of growth. There are trees here which\ngrow downward, flowers that give forth leaves, buds\nthat the wind carries off to make a carpet for me.\n* Fragment from Telamaque, a novel to be published this\nspring-. Translated from the French by Will Bray."}, {"page_pdf": 7, "page_imprimee": "5", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.7", "texte": "Certain plants remain invariable; others seem as ephe-\nmeral as my regard. Suddenly I feel myself ageing- as\nI lift my eyelids. I should certainly make a poor\nhour-glass.\nHow I could have blundered about in time; I still\nwonder at this. I had accepted with real pleasure an\ninvitation to go to Normandy and stay at the villa of a\nfriend, Celeste P , . . married recently. Paris was\nthinning out, and the thought of spending a few days\nby the sea-shore where the air was so pure and re-\nfreshing with the nip of salt, was by no means\nunpleasant to me. It had been a superb day. The sun\nbrimmed over in the fields. The dust invaded the\nrailroad coaches, but nearing the sea we scented its\ndelicious tang and it went right to our hearts. Getting\noff the train, I looked about me and saw that the sky\nwas sky-blue. Celeste advanced toward me with her\nhand outstretched. Suddenly a fit of abstraction seized\nme, I thought of other things: once you have thought\nof other things, you are done for. Impossible to get\nback to the point of departure, and following the\nthread I reached some desert region at some indeter-\nmined epoch of the universe. At first I did not under-\nstand what was happening to me. I said to myself:\n„This cannot last\". Now 1 do not even know whether\nit does last.\nI have come to believe that in the temporal impasse\ninto which I have strayed there is no soul that lives.\nOnly a companion in misfortune could help me to\nregain life. Together we could reconstitute time. Sim-\nply a matter of comparison. Alone, I lose grip on\nmyself in wrestling with my identity: if I remained the\nsame from one minute to another how could I experience\nthe transformation announced by this movement of the\nclock-hand? 1 end by losing all track of the continuity\nof my thought. For in the most general sense all is\nlogical to me in solitude, and, writing as I am for\nchance salvagers, for blind savages, or for the deaf\ntides that carry my bottle, I can scarcely trust that the\nlanguage I use will ever be understood by any man\nother than myself. Why, it is impossible for me to\nread it over: I am only intelligible to myself in flashes.\nMy sheet of paper all at once becomes perfectly blank"}, {"page_pdf": 8, "page_imprimee": "6", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.8", "texte": "again, or covered with ideas I have never had. The\nwords themselves come invested in strange masks, or\nbare and different from each other. Bursted balloons.\nPastimes, pleasures, leisure, salt of life, all seem strange\ncustoms, rites devised to hasten death along. Fire is\nwhat I find most mysterious of all. The novel I kept\nin my pocket during the entire journey has remained\nthere and I reassemble in it my only memories of\nhuman life. Preposterous existence bounded only by\nthe most elementary of questions. I take, for instance,\nfrom my book, the character called George, hotelkeeper.\nHow the emblems of all the trades balance themselves\nunhappily in the blue city of the vision. This horrible\nlimitation, the branch of holly which the man fixed\nabove his door one morning condemned him to be\nnothing but an innkeeper for all eternity. Is it not true\nthat in books sudden illuminations flash between the\nconventional characters one longs to resemble? The\nchoice between two destinies is tragically lost in the\ndisordered movements of the heart. A very beautiful\nwoman, two or three singular exaltations, a moment of\nperfect happiness, the entire life of a citizen .of the\nworld reduces itself to a few metaphors more wretched\nand vulgar than a carpenter's shop: the split up wood\nhardly arouses any enthusiasm. Through staring into\nspace for a long time there grows in my breast the\nimage of the red and blue infinite in which life pulses\nat a given speed. Adjust yourself any way you please:\nto regard the universe, or to interrogate your heart;\nit cannot be done without fatigue. All ends with a red\nlamp balanced against the wind, and later, the horses\nhaving delivered the parcel, trotting briskly along the\npavement of the suburbs.\nSun of cries without reason, mad plants, the earth\nflees we know not where and we press the tablets of\nphysical law against our vest-pockets with little\ncommendatory smiles. With what great ingenuity we\nbind for ourselves with ribbon-formulae a bouquet of\nmarguerites and of roses, the functions of space and\ntime yielding indulgently to our will! In the meantime\nI am quite beautifully lost in duration, and my move-\nments are restricted from just here to there. But I feel\nmore and more, I almost said with every day, the"}, {"page_pdf": 9, "page_imprimee": "7", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.9", "texte": "elements of my consciousness rotting- and melting.\nI have only to give utterance to a few more of such\nnotions and it is all over with my chances of getting\nback to the land of clocks. And yet, it is the gradual\ndisintegration of my personality that I have the strongest\nmisgivings about. Since I am alone I cannot go mad.\nThe sponges of silence, the crystals of vacuum, where\nwas I amongst them? I hurry on, bicyclist lost after\nthe departure of the rear wheel, maintaining myself\nmiraculously by one perpetual revolution. Equilibrium\ndenotes nothing but unstable position, or habitual\ndifficulty, if you will. Yes, crawling fear has its little\nday of terror. I choke now and then through forgetting\nto breathe at regular intervals. Sensuousness in this\nbrothel-world! Best not to think of it. The geometrical\nprogression of lust is not conceived as apart from all\ncontinuity. The four operations, very nice to talk about.\nFly in sticky-paper, inkwell of clouds, who will give\nme back the fancy-cake with an Eiffel Tower relief,\nthe City of Light, as it is called.\n\nLOUIS ARAGON"}, {"page_pdf": 10, "page_imprimee": "8", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.10", "texte": "PERIPATETICS\nMATTHEW JOSEPHSON\n1\nDo not sway thus from side to side thin young\nwoman with one breast the left, crushing a book against\nthis. I, utterly curious shall walk behind thee monster.\nIt will, doubtless, take many quibbling miles before I\nhave gulped thee, whole, into my system. Let us walk\na little further and all will be very simple.\n2\nIf I, you, the mussels, the oysters, the ham, the\nlobster, the artichoke, should all yawn and agree that\nit were time to get up and march across the tables\nform a procession and crawl thoughtfully into the\nstreet order sunlight a flourish an electric baton a zebra\nin advance an elephant supporting the rear — would\nthey then disagree with us? would they be willing to\nconsider another point of view and lay it before us\nreasonably ?\n3\nReturning at evening to my dear door in the\ncourtyard my knees trembling with exhaustion, here\nwhere no flowers have begun burgeoning, nothing\ncommenced clasping my senses (I am about yearning\nfor the brown old streets again with the high walls\nI have just left: the Street of the Honest Burgher, the\nStreet of the Wooden Sword, the Street of the Four\nDaugthers as well as that of the Four Winds where\nI promenaded modifying my conceptions to conform\nwith just and mild skepticisms), I am now burning to\ntest my knowledge of the way in their evening aspect\n(could the method fail?) when the peaceful nunneries\nof the grilled windows would pose new and arresting\nriddles; thence to return to my door with my pausing\nand reflective key to consider it all again and turn or\nturn the key.\nJ A &\n4\nI shall not grow bald; whatsoever,\nI shall hang on to my hair by the hair.\n* Dedicated to G. B. M."}, {"page_pdf": 11, "page_imprimee": "9", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.11", "texte": "APOLLINAIRE: OR LET US BE\nTROUBADOURS\n\nOne of the first illusions to be rejected upon con-\ntact with European letters in the flesh is that the\npresent generation consists of exthausted and disenchant-\ned young- men. Nothing could have been more\nunfounded. There is far more danger, I am told, of\nthe present American generation exhausting itself in\nattempting to dent the stupidity of its art-patrons, its\ncensors, its inarticulate loosebrained prophets.\nThey are not exhausted, these young men who have\nsurvived 1914—1918. Witness the excellent morale of\nthe writers of the avant-garde in France who, in iso-\nlation from the rest of their countrymen, have com-\npletely forgotten the war. Talented, extravagant,\nintolerant, fun-loving, these young writers whether of\nDada affiliations or not have broken with the direct\nline of French literature. The fifty or sixty crowned\npoets of the pre-war era from Mallarme to Paul Fort,\nall of whom de Gourmont treats with such encyclo-\npaedic precision, and some of whom Amy Lowell\nintroduced belatedly and inaccurately to the American\npublic, — these have all been immolated. There is a\nbrisk inclination to forget the silver age of twenty\nyears or so preceding the war which was dominated\nby such sterile traditions as those of de Regnier,\nBarres, Moreas, Anatole France, de Gourmont.\nIn the main line from the tendencies of yesterday\nfalls the group dominated by Andre Gide and associa-\nted with the Nouvelle Revue Francaise. In its most\ncharacteristic contributors, Andre Salmon, Jean Girau-\ndoux, Paul Morand, there is a certain penchant for\nmockery, a certain cleverness at the comedy of manners.\nBut in none of these writers has there been a clean\nbreak with the artistic conceptions of the foregoing era.\nInasmuch as the majority of French writers are still\nreiterating the a little frozen beauties of the Symbo-\nlists or the vers-libre universitaire of Laforgue there\nis very little to hope for. One meets with a great\nmany names in the throng of reviews and books pub-\nlished and commented upon every day. They are"}, {"page_pdf": 12, "page_imprimee": "10", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.12", "texte": "blurred with indistinctness in the recollection of them.\nThey scarcely ruffle the surface. The similarity of one\npersonality to another is significant, their divergences\nunimportant.\nThe age has been at the mercy of the small tal-\nents and the war has scarcely sifted them into big or\nlittle ones. What is worse, it has even placed false\nstress on the mysticism of Peguy and Claudel, or\nshifted attention to the raucous insincere „modernism\"\nof Jean Cocteau. This last gentleman, a Maecenas of\nthe arts, an idol of the boulevards, a rastoquere, whose\npoetry has the taste of bran and leaves a perfect blank\nin the brain, — this person has been presented by\nindiscriminate American interpreters as the last word... of\nParis.\nIn the turbulent „advance guard\" of letters there\nis, however, something to be reckoned with. One meets\nan unexpected sincerity, a desperate willingness to go\nto any lengths of violence in opposing the old regime.\nThe young men who operated „Litterature\" for two\nyears, Louis Aragon, Philippe Soupault, Andre Breton\nare certainly youthful as individuals and as a group\nor „movement\" (in this nation of groups) and what\nthey have done has not altogether assumed permanent\nvalue. But one takes much hope from their quick in-\ntelligence, their sensibility, their vigorous and fun-loving\ndisposition. They are inventive to an extreme degree\nand are utterly without blague or snobbery. They are\nbent frankly on unbounded adventures and experiments\nwith modern phenomena. They have been stimulated\nby Rimbaud and Lautreamont, who demonstrated, for\ninstance, that although nature had always been painted\nas a static landscape in literature it could be render-\ned in subjective motion or in any of a thousand states.\nThe Apollinaire strain is in these writers. One of\nthe last things that Guillaume Apollinaire wrote con-\ncerned the field which was left to the poets of this age.\nApollinaire, arch-intransigeant and forerunner of almost\neverything of importance, I fear, that will take place\nin the literature of the next generation, urged the poets\nof this time to be at least as daring as the mechanical\nwizards who exploited the airplane, wireless telegraphy,\nchemistry, the submarine, the cinema, the phonograph,"}, {"page_pdf": 13, "page_imprimee": "11", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.13", "texte": "what-not. The innovations of the past generation, have\nbeen astounding-. The recent conquests of man over\nnature have in many cases realized the fables of an-\ncient times. It is for the modern poet to create the\nmyths and fables which are to be realized in suc-\nceeding ages.\n„Is there nothing new under the sun ?\" asks Apolli-\nnaire. „Nothing — for the sun, perhaps. But for man —\neverything!\" The poet is to stop at nothing in his\nquest for novelty of shape and material; he is to take\nadvantage of the possibilities for infinite combinations,\nthe new equipment afforded by the cinema, phonograph,\ndictaphone, airplane, wireless. What he creates out\nof these new conditions, these new instruments, or the\nre-percussions which these things have had on our life,\nwill be the material the folk-elements, if you will, of\nthe myths and fables for the future.\nTouching definitely on the form or technique of\npoetry Apollinaire regards vers libre as only a fraction\nof the possible contributions to the media of poetry.\nThere is an infinite amount of discovery to be made, he\nsuggests, with alliteration, with assonance, with typo-\ngraphical arrangements such as give new visual and\nauditory sensations to the reader.\nHas anything more immediate been offered with\nreference to the ways and means of modern art than\nthese enunciations of Apollinaire? He goes even\nfarther than the suggestions I have quoted. There is\nthe forecast of possibly some poet or super-artist, who\nlike a modern orchestra conductor will have at his\nbaton a hundred or a thousand different instruments,\nor sciences, or mechanisms. This enormous army of\nsymphony (as I have always dreamed it, at least) would\nfill a prodigious amphitheatre, against which the Grosses\nSchauspielhaus of Berlin would shrink in the comparison.\nThe audience of course would be one man, on\nthe stage . . .\nWe shall not discuss these bewildering possibilities\nfor the moment. It suffices that proceeding with the\nconception of a modern folk-lore we are justified in\ntraversing all the ramifications of modern man, all the\nfar flung discordant exigencies of the present spectacle,\nwhether they be in an office building of New York,"}, {"page_pdf": 14, "page_imprimee": "12", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.14", "texte": "in the grand hall of the Aquitania on the Atlantic, or\nin an airplane volplaning felicitously down on Warsaw.\nThe literature of Louis Aragon, Andre Breton, Paul\nEluard, Philippe Soupault, Tristan Tzar a is an exhilarating\nrecord. Tzara's poems are as naturally expressive of the\nbeauty of this age as Herrick's are of the 17 th Century.\nWith an utterly simple and unaffected touch they employ\nall the instruments of the time, the streetcar, the bill-\nposter, the automobile, the incandescent light, etc. The\npoems are not modern because they indicate: „I was\nriding in the tramway\" (instead of a diligence), but\nbecause the tramway gets into the very rhythm, form\nand texture of the poems.\nIn the prose of Louis Aragon there is the speed and\nvividness of the motion picture, a constant and uproarious\ndialectic, and a volume and richness that is quite\ndistinguished after so much thin and lucid French prose.\nThe humor is not of human foibles so much as of\nsmoothly functioning swiftly moving modern devices.\nThe influences of the up-to-date detective and the\nAmerican cinema are strongly evident. There are marvel-\nous American films whose characters, out of all the\nsincerity of the director's heart, make the most pre-\nposterous, imbecilic and imaginative gestures. There is\nmuch of this terrifying beauty in Aragon's stories.\nLes Champs Magnetiques, which Andre Breton and\nPhilippe Soupault wrote in collaboration is another com-\nmanding book of prose. It rejects plot as completely\nas Joyce's Ulysses does, but goes even farther in\ndisavowing even such a precise and inchoate verisimilitude\nas Joyce employs. The book achieves an upheaval of\nmethods. Take a single sentence or a paragraph and\nit is, alone, rich-and-beautiful, but means nothing without\nits context. For the writers instead of attempting to\nexpress human drama by definite words or phrases\nindicating so many incidents or details, work for an\neffect of growth in their theme by a large continued\nrhythm. The prose changes its blend and intensity of\nlight, spatters its broken tracts of conversation or cogita-\ntion, gathering a large momentum through the succession\nof chapters rather than sentences. This is simply another\ncase of literature coming abreast of modern painting\nor sculpture or music."}, {"page_pdf": 15, "page_imprimee": "13", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.15", "texte": "The poems of Paul Eluard in Exemples, with their\nbright hardness and their artfully chosen typographical\nappearances suggest curious and tortured movements\na little beyond the reverberations of the words. They\nare dominated by a piercing humor which is however\nquite unlike Aragon's or Jarry's.\nThe conviction strengthens here and there among\nthe extreme young who are jealous of their liberty that\nthe modern folk-lore of which Apollinaire spoke is\ntaking shape. These young writers are of considerable\ningenuity and charm. Their work seems clean; they are\nnot tangled up in messy Parnassian paraphernalia; they\ndo not fumble with the old cliches. These observations\nare the basis for my initial assertion that France is not\nexhausted. Nor is Europe, in that case. One feels curiously\nas if a great developing movement, a momentous front-\ndrive were getting under way.\nOn the other hand, the conviction comes that Ameri-\ncans need play no subservient part in this movement.\nIt is no occasion for aping European or Parisian tenden-\ncies. Quite the reverse, Europe is being Americanized.\nAmerican institutions, inventions, the very local conditions\nof the United States are being duplicated, are being „put\nover\" daily in Europe. One has only to visit Berlin, for in-\nstance, in 1922 to witness this phenomenon.The complexion\nof the life of the United States has been transformed so\nrapidly and so daringly that its writers and artists are\nrendered a strategic advantage. They need only react\nfaithfully and imaginatively to the brilliant minutiae of\nher daily existence in the big cities, in the great\nindustrial regions, athwart her marvelous and young\nmechanical forces.\n\nWILL BRAY"}, {"page_pdf": 16, "page_imprimee": "14", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.16", "texte": "TRISTAN TZARA\ninstant note brother\nnothing- rises nothing1 descends\nno horizontal movement\nhe arises\nnothing stirs neither being nor non —\nbeing nor the idea nor the prisoner\nchained nor the tramway\nhe hears nothing other than himself\nunderstands nothing other than the\nchairs the stone the cold the water . . .\nknows to pass through solid\nmatter\nhaving no more need of eyes he\nthrows them away in the street\nlast burst of blood in the\ndusk\nlast flourish\nhe tears out his tongue — flame\ntransfixed by a star\nquieted\nautumn dead like a leaf\nof red palm\nand reabsorbs that which he denied\nand dissolves the project in the other\nhemisphere second season of\nexistence\nas the nails and the hairs\ncross and return\n\nTranslated from the French by Will Bray"}, {"page_pdf": 17, "page_imprimee": "15", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.17", "texte": "A BOW TO THE ADVENTUROUS\n\nWhat is the attitude of the critic toward the range\nof subject matter suitable for literature? What is the\nattitude of other literary artists toward the same?\nIsidore Ducasse does not directly raise these ques-\ntions in the curious preface to his lost Poesies, but\nthey constitute the chief protuberances in my reflec-\ntions upon his emphatic assertions. Here was a youth,\nborn in 1850 and dead in 1870, author of the Chants\nde Maldoror, a legend about himself, and Poesies, who\nbased his violent reaction against the poetry of his\ncentury purely upon its subject matter. „Je remplace\nla melancolie par le courage, le doute par la certitude,\nle desespoir par l'espoir, la mechanete par le bien, les\nplaintes par le devoir, le scepticisme par la foi, les\nsophismes par la froideur du calme et l'orgueil par la\nmodestie.\" With a dauntless courage, he denounces\nChateaubriand, Senancourt, Jean-Jaques Rousseau, Anne\nRadcliffe, Edgar Allan Poe, Mathurin, Gautier, Leconte,\nGoethe. Sainte-Beuve, Lamartine, Lermontoff, Victor\nHugo, Mickiewicz, de Musset, Byron, Baudelaire and\nFlaubert. „Grands-Tetes-Molles,\" he dubs them. „Si\nvous etes malheureux, il ne faut pas le dire au lecteur.\nGardez cela pour vous.\" There is no discussion of the\nmanner in which these writers employed their subject\nmatter nor of the esthetic states they may produce.\nThey chose subject matter the temperament of Ducasse\ndetested. He erected his prejudices into general dog-\nmatisms and declared that, therefore, their poetry\nwould not endure. Lately, the Dadaists, partly through\nsome affinity with his views on subject matter, have\nhoisted Ducasse from his obscurity.\nThe case of Ducasse gives, I think, a frequent\nanswer to our second question. A poet or a novelist\nof specialized gifts seeks for subject matter which will\nwork like an explosive in him. Much leaves him cold,\nbut here and there he finds materials which heat him\ninto expression. Sorrow forces one poet to tearful\nexpression, praise of a beneficent god another to\njoyful affirmatives; that which a naturalistic novelist\nleaves out fires an idealistic narrator. Each, if he"}, {"page_pdf": 18, "page_imprimee": "16", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.18", "texte": "knows what he is about, cultivates jealously his own\npropensities: each narrows the field to his own\ntemperament and then digs as deeply as he can:\neach, unless he happens also to be a critic, is tempted\nto say that the subject matter which appeals to him\nis the best and even the only subject matter for the\nart he practices. We cannot quarrel with him.\nBut the answer to the first question is the reverse\nof this. The critic works after the fact. The catholic\nspirit, which has surveyed the staggering diversity of\nliterature vertically through the ages and horizontally\nacross the nations, which has noted the quality of\nsurprize which attaches to esthetic production, which\nis in touch with the astonishing experiments of modern\nwriters, which has experienced good states of mind\nfrom absolutely contradictory subject matter, can make\nonly one answer. The range of subject matter suitable\nfor literature is unlimited. In art as in love, so de\nGourmont said, everything is possible. To put restric-\ntions on the range of subject matter is to be guilty\nof provincialism both of time and of place.\nBeing human, the critic has his prejudices, of course.\nI, for example, am more interested by the psychological\nhesitations of the characters in a Henry James novel\nthan I am by the slow thinking of the hill-folk in\nKnut Hamsum's Growth of the Soil. But that does not\nprevent the perception that Hamsum has fitted his\ndiction to his dynamic realities, set his effects into\nrelief and balance, and otherwise forced his rude ma-\nrerials into a significant esthetic organization. From\nthat I can extract enjoyment although in a more\nmoderate degree than if I had been of a temperament\nmore responsive to his subject matter. The primary\ntask of a critic is to make allowances for his preju-\ndices, to examine the relation between a writer and\nhis dynamic reality (subject matter), and to ascertain\nthe quality of the state of mind induced by the pre-\ncipitate of this relationship. Catholicity may be a vice\nfor a poet or fiction writer: it is always a virtue for\nthe critic.\nOne poem of this number, In A Cafe by the pre-\ncocious Will Bray, serves admirably to knot this dis-\ncussion into an example. Although the Bible refers"}, {"page_pdf": 19, "page_imprimee": "17", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.19", "texte": "to the bodily necessity he has so cleverly understated\nand Rabelais, Cervantes, Mark Twain (in ~1601\"),\nHuysmans and Apollinaire have made varying- use of\nit, Bray invades subject matter that most people and\nmost poets would condemn as unsuitable for literature.\nYet Bray saw a certain humorous significance in the\noccasion which he conveys to us by rhythms, invent-\niveness and adroit evasions. We can perceive his loyalty\nto his stimulus, note the manner in which this loyalty\nhas been made concrete, and experience an esthetic\nsatisfaction from the solution of his problem.\nIn sum, criticism says to the other arts: Use any\nsubject you wish. My concern is in the state of mind\nyou create with it.\nAnother poem printed here, that by Tristan Tzara,\nwill assist in developing this conclusion. (I do not, at\npresent, vouch for the bulk of Tzara's activities but\nhe has written several indubitable poems.) In this poem,\nTzara contrives an abstract* organization. He departs\naltogether from conventional coherent intelligible sub-\nject material and gives us instead a controlled series\nof physical sensations. The effect is as unalloyed with\nintellectual and extra-esthetic reactions as those of\nmusic or cubist painting. Yet it cannot be defined in\nterms of musical or painting criticism nor very well\nby literary criticism since that is lamentably weak in\nits own esthetic vocabulary. Tzara s word arrangement\napproaches mathematics. (There is some reason for\nbelieving that the ecstasy arising from the solving of\na complicated mathematical problem is very much akin\nto the esthetic emotion.) What he does here is, by\nmeans of words, to make a pattern of sharp arrest,\ndead calm, rising motion, developed calm, progress,\nspreading out, contraction and final collapse that\nleaves us physically satisfied. And emotionally satisfied.\nHis is an abstractness as devoid of idea-emotions as\nmusic or painting can be but still belonging very\ndefinitely to words.\nSatisfying as this is, it nevertheless causes speculation\nupon the depth, solidity and interior organization of\n* Abstract, like romantic and realistic, is an indicative finger\nfor certain readily perceived phenomena, but not a precise de-\nfining term."}, {"page_pdf": 20, "page_imprimee": "18", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.20", "texte": "writing. It brings us to a consideration of the esthetic\npower of a writer's material. The writer s material?\nIs it words filed as clean of all their connotations and\nideational meanings as a curve or a spread of color is?\nOr is it precisely those connotations and meanings,\nthose idea-emotions, that are the writer's material?\nThe sign or the things for which the sign stands?\nTzara is headed towards a sign esthetic. His poetry is\na challenge to further research in the esthetic nature of\nwords. My tentative belief, however, is that there are\nvery restricted walls for an art based on signs and that\nthe proper materials are those things which they\nsymbolize. Abstract painting does all the essential things\nthat representative painting, if it is of value, does. Both\nare good for the same reason. But abstract literature,\nto date, falls short of representative literature because\nit has not yet conquered a literary third dimension,\ncannot expand very far into an interior organization.\nThat is, I conceive the psychological, social, idea-\nemotional, interpretative, etc., values of an organized\npiece of writing to be the only means a novelist, let\nus say, has to give a feeling of documentary solidity.\nThey can be detached from his design, but, if he uses\nthem as an artist, they serve to weight and energize\nhis scheme. Let us note, then, that there are certain\ngrandly serious elements of life and certain very trivial\nconstituents. This means that the power of subject\nmatter varies and leads to another tentative conclusion.\nThe more documentary solidity a writer can give his\nwork provided he can control surfaces proportioned to\nthis interior development, the deeper and fuller response\nhe can create.\nWith more certainty it may be said that there is a\nshifting importance attached to the multitudinous subjects\nwhich writers use and that there come periods when\neven the grandly serious things are of less importance\nfor literary production than the minor facets of life.\nThis is, in part, due to the operation of a law of fatigue\nupon esthetic emotion. Certain subject matter, let us\nsay doubt, melancholy, speculation upon insolubles,\nexploited again and again in an era, gradually loses its\npotency and calls forth weaker and weaker replies.\nIt is necessary to turn to other materials, courage and"}, {"page_pdf": 21, "page_imprimee": "19", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.21", "texte": "certitude, minor moods perhaps, to evoke fresh strong\nresponses. These assume for a time greater potency\nthan their mighty predecessors. The literary history of\nFrance from 1830 to 1922 is replete with examples of\nreactions of this sort, the last being the present brilliant\nactivities of Messieurs Aragon, Breton, Eluard, Soupault,\net al. The exhaustion of certain literary forms, as, for\ninstance, the Flaubertian novel-form seems to be exhausted\ntoday also shifts the importance of subject matter.\nExperiment and discovery of new methods can\noften be conducted better if what the writer has to\nsay is not so overwhelmingly urgent that he must say\nit at all cost. The presentation rather than the matter\nmust be his urgency and his attention is more efficiently\nspent upon that if it is less distracted by the subject\nmatter. This reduces to the simple statement: in some\nperiods what a writer says is of supreme importance\nto the esthetic emotion, in others the evasion of the\ngrandly serious is the most provocative.\nSecession exists for those writers who are preoccupied\nwith researches for new forms. It hopes that there is\nready for it an American public which has advanced\nbeyond the fiction and poetry of Sinclair Lewis and\nSherwood Anderson and the criticism of Paul Rosen-\nfeld and Louis Untermeyer.\nInterested readers may look up an important origin\nand a general program for Secession in an essay by\nMalcolm Cowley entitled „This Youngest Generation\nN. Y. Evening Post Literary Review, oct. 18, 1921.\n\nG. B. M."}, {"page_pdf": 22, "page_imprimee": "20", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.22", "texte": "UNPUBLISHED FRAGMENT FROM MR. AA\nTHE ANTIPHILOSOPHER\n\nWhen the eyes transcend their orbit the cravat of\nthe branches strangles the English foliage dressed in\nhigh silk hat white gloves and patent leather slippers\nof ardent chlorophyl. What said my friend you do not\nbelieve in the existence of parallels even though they\nprolong and renew themselves. The finale of symphony\nis hard the music cannot end without cutting up the\nfragments of beauty into yet smaller pieces and be-\nginning over again. It is too bad said he again we\nshall never know whether it is the wind that bends\nthe blade of grass or the blade of grass that bends\nthe wind. Put the grass in some place where there is\nno wind — i believe in neither common sense nor\nparadox. My plane has no wind no grass it has no\nplace it has no flies. Live without reaction without\nmoods without false tempests. My plane loves ennui and\nthe uncertain colors and the bisexual paths my plane\nresembles all other planes and its men all other men\ngood God there is no happiness anywhere life passes\nas it passes the only happiness is to know ennui the\npoet-insects shut themselves up in their towers of choco-\nlate on the mountain of Zarathustra they are the gen-\niuses who with their secretaries go into town twice a\nday to telephone to the printer and measure by the\nscale of animal pride the results of their compromises.\nMy dear Tzara let us have done with the purity and\nthe impurity of the mind and the Parisian temperament\nthe Academy and Spain as well as all the Spanish\ndead living anarchists or Indians indeed all such flip-\npancies cold and cynical as exist or do not exist in\ncoarse brains functioning like stomachs. The amassing\nbrain — bah 'tis nothing but a crab that stayed behind\nin the chowder and made believe he was an emperor.\nIt was a brave chowder with brass music and travel-\npictures.\nHow do you do what already very well rescussitate\nin the wind no matter where how are you says my\nfriend iam very well thank you do you want\na light he says the ruffled bird might pass as an"}, {"page_pdf": 23, "page_imprimee": "21", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.23", "texte": "eyebrow for the dusk expiring of so much beautiful\nmusic said he how are you what already iam\nvery well thank you rescussitate in the wind any-\nwhere how are you says my friend iam very\nwell do you want a light says he.\n\nTRISTAN TZARA\n\nTranslated from the French by Will Bray\n\nIN A CAFÉ\nWILL BRAY\nHe — You are a sweet girl\nand I shall throw you into the river\nyou are a sweet girl\nand I shall buy you narcissi\nyou are a sweet girl\nand I shall give you wormwood\nyou are a sweet girl\nand I shall chew your ear\nyou are a sweet girl\nand I shall leave you for a moment\nShe — I am going to leave you for a moment\nHe 1 am sroiner to leave You for a moment\nleave YOU\nleave YOU\na moment\n#\na moment\noh well\noh!"}, {"page_pdf": 24, "page_imprimee": "22", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.24", "texte": "EXPOSÉ No. 1\n\nThe Dial is, I suppose, generally considered to be\nAmerica's leading magazine of literary expression. One\ncritic has even called it the recognized organ of the\nyoung generation! True, there is not much competition\nfor these honors, and the career of the Little Review\nhas been sufficiently obscure for the reclame brought\nby size, money, circulation and famous names to over-\nshadow it in public esteem. What, then, is our „leader\"\nlike?\nIt boasts: „We have freed ourselves from commer-\ncialism and manifestos, from schoolmen and little\nschools, from a little nationalism and a snobbish cos-\nmopolitanism\". That is, it has freed itself from a fixed\npoint for judging, the absence of which for morality\nPascal found so lamentable, but which happily exists\nfor art. It has liberated itself from a definite direction.\nIt feels no obligation to homogeneity. Naturally, its\nchief effect is one of diffuseness. It is late Victorian,\nYellow Book, philosophic, naturalistic, professorial,\ndadaistic, traditional, experimental, wise, silly, inter-\nnational and nationalistically concerned in a developing\nliterature. It prints Anatole France, Thomas Hardy,\nSantayana, Yeats, Beerbohm, Sherwood Anderson,\nPierre Loving (!), professorial articles on German\nliterature and Thomas Moore, Kenneth Burke, E. E.\nCummings, James Oppenheim, Mina Loy, Ezra Pound,\nJean Cocteau, D. H. Lawrence and an article on\nHigher Education in China! A stringent catholicity is\nadmirable, but where is the reconciliation here? With\nthis array of irreconcilables, it is no wonder a copy\nof the Dial gives the impression of splitting apart in\none's hand.\nAs an intellectual cable across the Atlantic, the\nDial has informed America that Remy de Gourmont\nhas lived and died. The news of Guillaume Apollinaire\nis still * untransmitted.\nIt features a wallowing ox of a stylist who retails\neach month acres of vague impressionistic excrement\non music, painting, and books. Still, his uncouth attempts\n* February, 1922."}, {"page_pdf": 25, "page_imprimee": "23", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.25", "texte": "at new sentence rhythms, word coinage, and telling\ninversions give more hilarity than pain. But this soft\nplace next to Marianne Moore!\nThe final seal has been stamped by the announcement\nthat the 1921 Dial Award has been bestowed upon Sher-\nwood Anderson. It was stated that „the award will go to a\nyoung American writer, one of our contributors, in\nrecognition of his service to American letters ... to\nbe given annually to one who has already accomplished\na service, yet has not completed his work . . . intended\nfor encouragement and opportunity\" for leisure, 1 infer.\nIt went to a man forty-five years old and by no means\nin a seriously impecunious position. Inasmuch as the\nroyalties from six books and frequent payments from\nseveral magazines eager for his work have, of late\nyears, enabled him to support a family, devote all his\ntime to writing, and take a summer's trip to Europe.\nAn established writer, in short. The approach to arti-\nculateness of this author I have traced in detail in an\nessay now floating around somewhere in America. Let\nme extract a few points without supporting them again.\n1. The impulse which produced Windy Mac Pherson's\nSon and Marching Men was thin. Anderson, inßrentano's\ntrade paper, spring of 1921, declares they were written\nfrom an emulative desire worked up by reading other\nnovels. 2. I agree with his preface statement to Miid-\nAmerican Chants that he can do .nothing as yet „but\nmutter and feel our way toward the promise of song\".\n3. The key-sentence to Winesburg, Ohio is „One\nshudders at the meaninglessness of life while at the\nsame instant and if the people of the town are his\npeople, one loves life so intensely that tears come into\nthe eyes\". This translates into „I have nothing to\noppose to the meaninglessness of life but a sentimental\nattachment for my fellow townsmen\". 4. Anderson has\nno control of diction, not even the elementary man-\nagement of sentence mechanics that syntax can give.\nThere are many examples. Witness one from Poor White.\n„Standing on a high cliff and with a grove of trees\nat his back, the stars seemed to have all gathered in\nthe eastern sky\". 5. Anderson's formula for writing is\na psychological, not an esthetic one. Vide Brentano's\ntrade paper, spring of 1921. 6. He correctly regrets"}, {"page_pdf": 26, "page_imprimee": "24", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.26", "texte": "in the Triumph of the Egg, „I have a wonderful story\nto tell, but I know no way to tell it\", since his diction,\nconstruction, characters, ideas, and emotions are in a\nmost hopeless sprawl. He is, literally, a monotonous\npilgrim on the road from nowhere into nothing. In\neverything in writing that the generation under twenty-\nfive values, he is incomplete.\n„ . . . what makes us understand the rack and the\nwheel is the assurance from our friends that if we\ndropped everything modern we should have a great\nmagazine. Possibly they are right. We will not say\nthat in that case we should have a great dead\nmagazine; but we are certain that we should be doing\nhalf our job and no more\". — The Dial The Dial\ncondescends to include certain young writers, some of\nwhom are both very promising and desperately\nimpecunious. Motives of safety, shall we say since its\neditors have repudiated commercialism, lead it to\ninsulate them by the cooling remains of pre-war\nliterature and to assign its award to a man with an\ninfluential public.\nIt would be less compromising to go one way or\nthe other. Stay on dry land like the Atlantic Monthly\nor leap headfirst into the contemporary stream. If you\nwish a good swim, take off your life-belt!\nI should not like to see the Dial annihilated, but\nI should enjoy seeing its pretences abandoned. Vulga-\nrization is a legitimate business. Some large,American\npublisher might well bring out the Dial as Emile Paul\nFreres publishes Les Ecrits Nouveaux. That would be\na frank undertaking.\nThe existence of this Yale - Review -in- a - Harvard -\nblazer is one of the bitter necessities calling for Secession.\n\nG. B. M."}, {"page_pdf": 27, "page_imprimee": "[25]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.27", "texte": "AN OLD SONG TO NEW MUSIC\n\nThe Director pledges his energies for at least two\nyears to the continuance of Secession. Beyond a two\nyear span, observation shows, the vitality of most re-\nviews is lowered and their contribution, accomplished,\nbecomes repetitious and unnecessary. Secession will\ntake care to avoid moribundity.\nSecession is taking advantage of low printing costs\nin the Central Powers. This means that, whereas most\nmagazines of the arts in America must appeal for thou-\nsands of dollars in order to attain to any size or\ndistribution, Secession can equal them by the expen-\nditure of a few hundreds.\nThis fact affords the sophisticated, regardless of\nthe size of the bank accounts in their names, an unu-\nsual opportunity to resume the honored role of literary\npatron — at present neglected by a leisure class with-\nout the knowledge of enjoying their leisure.\nBy the gift of only five dollars (more, if you like)\ntowards the expenses of each of six successive numbers,\nyou may become a Patron of Secession. Patronage\ngifts are payable upon notice from the Treasurer a\nshort time in advance of the publication of each num-\nber. Patrons receive two subscriptions, invitations to\nSecession soirees, and whatever other special privileges\nwe can give them. A sufficient amount of patronage\nwill produce a larger, more handsome Secession, print-\ned ten times a year. It will enable us to make moder-\nate payment for manuscripts.\nEnthusiasts are invited to address Peter K. Hurwitz,\nTreasurer, 1361 — 46 Street, Brooklyn, New York."}, {"page_pdf": 28, "page_imprimee": "[26]", "url_page": "https://bluemountain.princeton.edu/bluemtn/?a=d&d=bmtnaay1922-01.1.28", "texte": "Je ne permets a personne, pas meme a Elohim de\ndouter de ma sincerite.\n\nIsidore Ducasse\n(Comte De Lautrémont)\n\nPrinted by Julius Lichtner, Vienna VIII."}]}