Part 4 - The Passing of a Great Race and the Making and Marring of Americans

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Ernest Hemingway, Torrents of Spring, American literature, Novella, Hemingway's early work, Parody, Satire, Romantic relationships, Artistic ambition, Springtime setting, Midwest, Literary criticism, Hemingway's writing style, Themes in Hemingway's works, Coming-of-age, Critique of society, Cultural criticism, Midwestern characters, Influences on Hemingway, Interwar period

Episode Transcript

(00:00):
Part four, The Passing of aGreat Race and the Making and Marring of
Americans Chapter thirteen through sixteen, andauthor's final note to the reader. But
perhaps it may be objected to methat I have, against my own rules,
introduced vices and of a very blackkind into this work, to which

(00:23):
I shall answer, first, thatit is very difficult to pursue a series
of human actions and keep clear fromthem. Secondly, that the vices to
be found here are rather the accidentalconsequences of some human frailty or a foible,
than causes habitually existing in the mind. Thirdly, that they are never

(00:44):
set forth as the objects of ridiculebut detestation. Fourthly, that they are
never the principal figure at that timeon the scene. And lastly, they
never produce the intended evil. HenryFielding, Chapter three. Yoki Johnson walking
down the silent street with his armaround the little indians shoulder, the big

(01:07):
Indian walking along beside them, thecold night, the shuttered houses of the
town, the little Indian who haslost his artificial arm, the big Indian
who was also in the war,Yogi Johnson, who was in the war.
Two the three of them walking,walking, walking, Where were they
going? Where could they go?What was there left? Suddenly, under

(01:33):
a street light that had swung onits drooping wire, above a street corner,
casting its light down on the snow, the big Indian stopped walking.
No get us nowhere, he grunted, walking, No good. Let White
Chief speak? Where we go?White Chief, Yoki Johnson did not know.
Obviously, WALKI was not the solutionof their problem. Walking was all

(01:56):
right in its way. Cox's armyof men seeking work, pressing on towards
Washington. Marching men, Yogi thought, marching on and on, And where
were they getting nowhere? Yogi knewit only too well, nowhere, No
damn where at all? White Chiefspeak up? The Big Indian said,
I don't know. Yogi said,I don't know at all? Was this

(02:21):
what they had fought the war for? Was this what it was all about?
It looked like it. Yogi standingunder the street like Yogi, thinking
and wondering. The two Indians intheir mackinaw coats, one of the Indians
with an empty sleeve, all ofthem wondering. White Chief, no speak,
The Big Indian asked, No,What could Yogi say? What was

(02:45):
there to say? Red Brothers speak, asked the Indian. Speak out.
Yogi said, he looked down atthe snow. One man's as good as
another. Now, white chief,ever go to Brown's beanery, asked the
Indian, looking into Yogi's face underthe arc leg No, Yogi fell all

(03:06):
in. Was this the end ofbeanery? Well, a beanery as well
as any other place. But abeanery? Well? Why not? These
Indians knew the town. They wereex servicemen. They both had splendid war
records. He knew that himself,but a beanery. White chief come with
red brothers. The tall Indian puthis arm under Yogi's arm. The little

(03:29):
Indian fell into step forward to thebeanery. Yogi spoke quietly. He was
a white man, but he knewwhen he had enough. After all,
the white race might not always besupreme. This Moslem revolt, unrest in
the east, troubled in the west, things looked black in the south.
Now this condition of things in thenorth, where was it taking him?

(03:52):
Where did it all lead? Wouldit help him to want a woman?
Would spring ever come? Was itworthwhile? After all? The three of
them striding along the frozen streets ofPataski, going somewhere now en route,
Hoisman wrote that it would be interestingto read French. He must try it

(04:12):
some time. There was a streetin Paris named after Hoisman's right around the
corner from where Gertrude's din lived.There was a woman. Where were her
experiments? And words? Bleating her? What was at the bottom of it?
All? That? In Paris?On Paris? How far was it
to Paris? Now? Paris inthe morning, Paris in the evening,

(04:34):
Paris at night, Paris in themorning, again, Paris at noon?
Perhaps? Why not? Yogi Johnson, striding on his mind never still,
all three of them striding on together, the arms of those that had arms
linked through each other's arms, redmen and white men walking together. Something

(04:54):
had brought them together? Was itthe war? Was at fate? Was
at accident? Or was it justchance? These questions struggled with each other
and Yogi Johnson's brain. His brainwas tired. He'd been thinking too much
lately. Hans still they strode,Then abruptly they stopped. The Little Indian

(05:15):
looked up at the sign it shonein the night outside the frosted windows of
the beanery. Best Buy test,make em heap, Big Test. The
Little Indian grunted, what man's beanerygot heat, fine tea, bone steak.
The tall Indian grunted, take itfrom red brother. The Indian stood
a little uncertainly outside the door.The tall Indian turned to Yogi. White

(05:39):
Chief got dollars, Yes, I'vegot money. Yogi answered, he was
prepared to go the route. Itwas no time to turn back. Now.
The feat's on me, boys,White Chief, nature's nobleman. The
tall Indian grunted, White Chief roughdiamond. The little Indian agreed, you'd
do the same for me. Yogideprecated. After all, perhaps it was

(06:02):
true was a chance he was taking. He had taken a chance in Paris
once Steve Brody had taken a chance, Or so they said. Chances were
taken all over the world every dayin China, Chinamen were taking chances.
In Africa, Africans in Egya,Egyptians in Poland, Poles in Russia,

(06:23):
Russians in Ireland, Irish in Armenia, Armenians note, take chances. The
tall Indian grunted quietly. He hadvoiced Yogi's unspoken doubt. They were a
canny folk, these redmen, noteven in the rug game. Fred Brother
thinked not, the Indians said,his tones carried conviction to Yogi. Who

(06:45):
were these Indians? It was something. Back of all of this, they
went into the beanery author's note toread her. It was at this point
in the story, Reader, thatmister f Scott Fitzgerald came to our home
one afternoon, and, after remainingfor quite a while, suddenly sat down
in the fireplace and would not,or was it could not? Reader,
get up and let the fire burnsomething also as to keep the room warm.

(07:11):
I know, Reader, that thesethings sometimes do not show in the
story, but just the same theyare happening. And think what they mean
to chaps like you and me inthe literary game. Few should think this
part of the story is not asgood as it might have been. Remember,
Reader, that day in and dayout, all over the world,
things like this are happening. NeedI add, Reader, that I have

(07:31):
the utmost respect for mister Fitzgerald,and let anybody else attack him, and
I would be the first to springto his defense, and that includes you
too, Reader. Though I hateto speak out bluntly like this and take
the risk of breaking up a friendshipof the sort that ours has gotten to
be. P s to the reader. As I read that chapter over,

(07:54):
Reader, it doesn't seem so bad. You may like it. I hope
you will. And if you dolike it, Reader, and the rest
of the book as well, willyou tell your friends about it and try
and get them to buy the book, just as you have done. I
only get twenty cents on each bookthat is sold, and while twenty cents
is not much nowadays, still itwill mount up to a lot. If

(08:15):
two or three hundred thousand copies ofthe book are sold, they will be
two if everyone likes the book asmuch as you and I do. Reader,
and listen, Reader, I meantit when I said I would be
glad to read anything you wrote.That wasn't just talk. Bring it along
and we will go over it together. If you like, I'll rewrite bits
of it for you. I don'tmean that in any critical sort of way

(08:37):
either. There is anything you donot like in this book, just write
to mister Scribner's sons at the homeoffice. They'll change it for you,
or if you would rather, Iwill change it myself. You know what
I think of you, Reader,and you're not angry or upset about what
I said about Scott Fitzgerald either,are you? I hope not. Now
I'm going to write the next chapter. Mister Fitzgerald is gone, and mister

(09:01):
dos Passos had gone to England,And I think I can promise you that
it will be a bully chapter.At least it will be just as good
as I can write it. Weboth know how good that can be if
we read the blurbs eh Reader,Chapter fourteen. Inside the beanery. They're
all inside the beanery. Some donot see the others. Each are intent

(09:24):
on themselves. Red men are intenton red men. White men are intent
on white men or on white women. There are no red women? Are
there no squaws anymore? What hasbecome of the squaws? Have we lost
our squaws in America? Silently,through the door which she had opened,
a squaw came into the room.She was clad only in a pair of

(09:46):
worn moccasins. On her back wasa papoose. Beside her walked a husky
dog. Don't look, the drummershouted to the woman at the counter.
Here, get her out of here, the owner of the beanery shouted.
The squaw was forcibly ejected by theNegro cook. They heard her thrashing around
in the snow outside. Her huskydog was barking, My god, what

(10:09):
might that have led to? Scrips? O'Neill mopped his forehead with a napkin.
The Indians had watched with impassive faces. Yogi Johnson had been unable to
move. The waitresses had covered theirfaces with napkins or whatever was handy.
Missus Scripps had covered her eyes withthe American mercury scrips. O'Neill was feeling
faint and shaken. Something had stirredinside him, some vague primordial feeling.

(10:33):
As the squaw had come into theroom. Wonder where that squaw came from?
The drummer asked her, my squaw. The little Indians said, good
God, man, can't you clotheher? Scrips O'Neill said, in a
dumb voice. There was a noteof terror in his words. Her no
light clothes, The little Indian explainedher Woods Indian Yogi Johnson was not listening.

(10:56):
Something had broken inside of him,something had snapped. As the squaw
came into the room. He hada new feeling, a feeling he thought
had been lost, forever lost,for always lost, gone permanently. He
knew not was a mistake. Hewas all right now, by the merest
chance he had found it out.What might he not have thought of that

(11:18):
squaw had never come into the beanery? What black thoughts he had been thinking?
He had been on the verge ofsuicide, self destruction, killing himself
here in this beanery. What amistake that would have been. He knew
now what a botch he might havemade of life, killing himself. Let
spring come, now, let itcome. It couldn't come fast enough.

(11:39):
Let spring come. He was readyfor it. Listen, he said to
the two Indians, I want totell you about something that happened to me
in Paris. The two Indians leanedforward. White Chief got the floor.
The tall Indian remark, what Ithought was a very beautiful thing happened to
me in Paris. Yoki began youIndians, no Paris. Good, Well,

(12:01):
it turned out to be the ugliestthing that ever happened to me.
The Indians grunted. They knew theirParis was the first day of my leave.
I was walking along the boulevard Mahlers. A car passed me, and
a beautiful woman leaned out. Shecalled to me, and I came.
She took me to a house,a mansion rather and a distant part of

(12:22):
Paris, and there a very beautifulthing happened to me. Afterwards, someone
took me out at different door thanI had come in by. The beautiful
woman had told me that she wouldnever that she could never see me again.
I tried to get the number ofthe mansion, but it was one
of a block of mansions, alllooking the same. From then on,
all through my leave, I triedto see that beautiful lady. Once I

(12:46):
thought I saw her in the theater, it wasn't her. Another time I
caught a glimpse of what I thoughtwas her in a passing taxi and leaped
into another taxi and followed. Ilost the taxi. I was desperate.
On the next to the last nightof my leave, I was so desperate
and dull that I went with oneof those guides that guaranteed to show you

(13:07):
all of Paris. We started outand visited various places. Is this all
you've got, I asked the guide. There is a real place, but
it's very expensive. The guide said. We compromised donnah price. Finally,
and the guide took me. Itwas in an old mansion you looked through
a slit in the wall. Allaround the wall where people looking through slits,

(13:31):
There, looking through slits could beseen the uniforms of men of all
the Allied countries, and many handsomeSouth Americans in evening dress. I looked
through a slit myself for a while. Nothing happened. Then a beautiful woman
came into the room with a fineBritish officer. She took off her long
fur coat and her hat and threwthem into a chair. The officer was

(13:52):
taking off his sam brown belt.I recognized her. It was the lady
whom I've been with when that beautifulthing happened to me. Jogi Johnson looked
at his empty plate of beans.Since then, he said, I've never
wanted a woman. How I havesuffered, I cannot tell, but I've
suffered, boys, I suffered.I blamed it on the war. I

(14:13):
blamed it on France. I blamedit on the decay of morality in general.
I blamed it on the younger generation. I blamed it here, I
blamed it there. Now I amcured. Here's five dollars for you,
boys. His eyes were shining.Get more to eat, take a trip,
somewhere. This is the happiest dayof my life. He stood up
from the stool before the counter,shook the one Indian impulsively by the hand,

(14:39):
rested his hand for a minute onthe other Indian's shoulder, opened the
door of the beanery, and strodeout into the night. The two Indians
looked at one another. White Chief, heap nice fellow observed the big Indian
think him was in the war,asked the little Indian, me wonder the
big Indian sin White Chief said hebuy me knew artificial arm. The little

(15:01):
Indian grumbled, maybe you get morethan that. The big Indian said,
we wonder the little Indians said.They went uneating the other end of the
counter of the beanery. A marriagewas coming to an end. Scripps O'Neil
and his wife sat side by side. Missus Scripps knew now she couldn't hold
him. She'd tried and failed,She'd lost. She knew it was a

(15:24):
losing game. There was no holdinghim now. Mandy was talking again,
talking, talking, always talking,that interminable stream of literary gossip that was
bringing her Diana's marriage to an end. She couldn't hold him. He was
going going going away from her.Diana sitting there in misery, Scripps listening

(15:46):
to Mandy talking, Mandy talking,talking, talking, the drummer an old
friend. Now that the drummer sittingreading his Detroit news, she couldn't hold
him. She couldn't hold him,She couldn't hold him. The little Indian
got up from his stool at thebeanery counter and went over to the window.
The glass on the window was coveredwith thick, rhymy frost. The

(16:07):
little Indian breathed on the frozen windowpane, rubbed the spot bare with the
empty sleeve of his mackinac coat,and looked out into the night. Suddenly
he turned from the window and rushedout into the night. The tall Indian
watched him go, who leisurely finishedhis meal, took a toothpick, placed
it between his teeth, and thenhe too, followed his friend out into

(16:32):
the night. Chapter fifteen. Theywere alone in the beanery now, Scripts
and Mandy and Diana. Only thedrummer was with him, who was an
old friend now, but his nerveswere on edge tonight. He folded his
paper abruptly and started for the door. See you all later, he said,
Who went out into the night.It seemed the only thing to do.

(16:55):
He did it. Only three ofthem in the beanery, now,
Scripts and Mandy and Diana. Onlythose three. Mandy was talking, leaning
on the counter and talking. Scrippswith his eyes fixed on Mandy. Diana
making no pretense of listening. Nowshe knew it was over. It was
all over now, but she wouldmake one more attempt, one more last

(17:17):
gallant try. Perhaps she still couldhold him, Perhaps it had been all
just a dream. She steadied hervoice, and then she spoke, Scripts,
dear, she said. Her voiceshook a little, she steadied it.
What's on your mind? Scripps askedabruptly. While there it was that
horrid Clips speech again, Scripts,dear, wouldn't you like to come home?

(17:40):
Diana's voice quavered. There's a newMercury. She'd changed from the London
Mercury to the American Mercury just toplease Scripts. It just came. I
wish you felt like coming home.Scripts. There is a splendid thing in
this Mercury. Do come home.Scripts. I've never asked anything of you
before. Come home? Scripts,Well, won't you come home? Scripps

(18:02):
looked up Diana's heart beat faster.Perhaps he was coming, Perhaps she was
holding him, holding him, holdinghim. Do come, Scripps, Dear
Diana, sit softly. There's awonderful editorial in it by Menkin thout Chiropractors.
Scripps looked away. Won't you come, Scripps? Diana pleaded no.

(18:22):
Scripps said, I don't give adamn about Menkin any more. Diana dropped
her head. O Scripps, shesaid, O Scripps. This was the
end. She had her answer.Now she'd lost him, lost him,
lost him. It was over finished, done for. She sat crying silently.

(18:44):
Manny was talking again. Suddenly Dianastraightened up. She had one last
request to make one thing she wouldask of him, only one. He
might refuse her, he might notgrant it, but she would ask him.
Scripps, she said, what's thetrouble? Scrips turned in irritation.
Perhaps after all he was sorry forher, He wondered, Can I take

(19:07):
the bird? Scrips? Diana's voicebroke, sure, said Scripps. Why
not? Diana picked up the birdcage. The bird was asleep, perched
on one leg, as on thatnight when they had first met. What
was it? He was like ah, yes, like an old osprey,
an old old osprey from her ownlate country. She held the cage to

(19:30):
her tightly. Thank you, Scripps, she said, thank you for this
bird. Her voice broke, andnow I must be going quietly, silently,
gathering her shawl around her, clutchingthe cage with a sleeping bird and
the copy of the Mercury to herbreast. With only a backward glance,

(19:51):
a last glance at him who hadbeen her Scripts, she opened the door
of the beanery and went out intothe night. Scripps did not even see
her go. He was intent onwhat Mandy was saying. Mandy was talking
again that bird she just took out. Mandy was saying, oh, did
she take a bird out? Scriptsasked, go on with the story.

(20:12):
You used to wonder what sort ofbird that was. Mandy went on,
that's right. Scripts agreed, Well, that reminds me of a story about
Goss and the Marquis of Buque.Mandy went on, tell it, Mandy,
tell it, Scripts urged her.It seems a great friend of mine
Ford, you've heard me speak ofhim before, was in the Marquis's castle

(20:33):
during the war. His regiment wasbilleted there, and the Marquis, one
of the richest, if not therichest man in England, was serving in
Ford's regiment as a private. Fordwas sitting in the library one evening.
The library was a most extraordinary place. The walls were made of bricks of
gold set into tiles or something.I forget exactly how it was. Go

(20:56):
on, scripts urge, it doesn'tmatter anyhow. In the middle of the
wall the library was a stuffed flamingoin a glass case. They understand interior
decorating these English. Scripps said,your wife was English, wasn't she asked
Mandy from the Lake country. Scrippsanswered, go on with the story.
Well, anyway, Mandy went on. Ford was sitting there in the library

(21:18):
one evening after mess when the butlercame in and said, the Marquis of
Buqu's compliments and might he show thelibrary to a group of friends with whom
he has been dining. They usedto let him dine out, and sometimes
they let him sleep in the castle. Ford said quite, And in came
the Marquis in his private's uniform,followed by Sir Edmund Goss and professor what's

(21:40):
his name? I forget it forthe moment from Oxford. Goss stopped in
front of the stuffed flamingo in theglass case and said, what have we
here, buque so flamingo. SirEdmond the Marquis answered, that's not my
idea of a flamingo. Goss remarked, no, Gus, that's God's idea
of a flamingo. Professor. What'shis name? Said? I wish I

(22:02):
could remember his name. Don't botherscript said. His eyes were bright.
He leaned forward. Something was poundinginside of him, something he could not
control. I love you, Mandysaid, I love you. You are
my woman. The thing was poundingaway inside of him. It would not
stop. That's all right, Mandyanswered, I've known you were my man

(22:25):
for a long time. Would youlike to hear another story speaking of woman.
Go On script said, you mustnever stop, Mandy. You are
my woman now. Sure, Mandyagreed. This story is about when Knut
Hampson was a street car conductor inChicago. Go On script said, you
are my woman now, Mandy.He repeated the phrase to himself, my

(22:48):
woman, my woman, You aremy woman. She is my woman.
It is my woman, my woman. But somehow he was not satisfied.
Somewhere, how there must be somethingelse, something else, my woman.
The words were a little hollow nowinto his mind, though he tried to
thrust it out. Here came againthe monstrous picture of the squaws. She

(23:11):
strode silently into the room, thatsquaw. She did not wear clothes because
she did not like them, hardybraving the winter nights. What might not
the spring bring? Mandy was talking, Mandy talking on, and the beanery,
Mandy telling her stories. It growslate in the beanery. Mandy talks

(23:33):
on, she is his woman,now he is her man. But is
he her man? In Script's brain, that vision of the squaw, the
squaw that strode unannounced into the beanery, the squaw who had been thrown out
into the snow. Mandy talking on, telling literary reminiscences, authentic incidents.

(23:55):
They had the ring of truth.But were they enough? Scripts wondered.
He was his woman? But forhow long? Scripts, wondered Mandy talking
on in the beanery, Scripts listening, but his mind straying away, straying
away, straying away, where wasit straying out into the night, out
into the night. Chapter sixteen,Night in Pataski, long past midnight.

(24:22):
Inside the beanery, a light burning, the town asleep under the northern moon.
To the north, the tracks ofthe g R and I Railroad running
far into the north. Cold tracksstretching north toward Mackinaw City and Saint Ignace.
Cold tracks to be walking on atthis time of night. North of

(24:42):
the frozen little northern town. Acouple walking side by side on the tracks.
It is Yoki Johnson walking with thesquad. As they walk, Yoki
Johnson silently strips off his garments.One by one. He strips off his
garments and cast them besid the track. In the end, he is clad
only in a worn pair of pumpmaker's shoes. Yoki Johnson naked in the

(25:07):
moonlight, walking north beside the squah. The squaw striding along beside him.
She carries the papoose on her backin his bark cradle. Yogi attempts to
take the papoose from her. Hewould carry the papoose. The husky dog
wines and looks at Yogi Johnson's ankles. No, the squaw would carry the
papoose herself on. They stride intothe north into the northern light. Behind

(25:33):
them come two figures sharply etched inthe moonlight. It is the two Indians,
the two woods Indians. They stoopand gather up the garments. Yogi
Johnson is cast away. Occasionally theygrunt to one another, striding softly along
in the moonlight, their keen eyesdo not miss a single cast off garment.
When the last garment has been castoff, they look and see far

(25:56):
ahead of them the two figures inthe moonlight. The two Indians straighten up.
They examine the garments. White Chiefsnappy dresser. The tall Indian remarks,
holding up an initialed shirt. WhiteChief going get pretty cold, small
Indian remarks. He hands a vestto the tall Indian. The tall Indian

(26:17):
rolls all the clothing, all thecast off garments, into a bundle,
and they start back along the tracksto the town. Better keep clothes for
White Chief, or Sellum's salvation army, asked the short Indian. Better Sellum
salvation army. The tall Indian grunts, White Chief, maybe never come back,
White Chief come back all right,grunted the little Indian. Better Sellem

(26:41):
salvation army anyway, grunts the tallIndian, White Chief need new clothes anyhow,
when spring comes, they walk downthe tracks toward town. The air
seemed to soften. The Indians walkeduneasily now through the tamaracks and cedars.
Beside the railway track. The warmwind is blowing. The snow drifts are

(27:02):
melting now beside the tracks. Somethingstirs inside the two Indians, some urge,
some strange pagan disturbance. The warmwind is blowing. The tall Indian
stops, moistens his finger and holdsit up in the air. The little
Indian watches chunook. Yes, heapchunook. The tall Indian says. They

(27:23):
hurry on toward town. The moonis blurred now by clouds carried by the
warm chunook wind that is blown.Want to get in town before rush,
The tall Indian grunts, red brothers, want be well up in line.
The little Indian grunts anxiously. Nobodywork in factory now. The tall Indian
grunted, better hurry. The warmwind blows inside the Indians. Strange longings

(27:49):
were stirring. They knew what theywanted. Spring at last was coming to
the frozen little northern town. Thetwo Indians hurried along the track. The
end author's final note to the reader. Well, reader, how did you
like it? It took me tendays to write it. Has it been
worth it? There's just one placeI would like to clear up. You

(28:12):
remember back in the story where theelderly waitress Diana tells about how she lost
her mother in Paris and woke upto find herself with a French general in
the next room. I thought,perhaps you might be interested to know the
real explanation of that. What actuallyhappened was that her mother was taken violently
ill with the bubonic plague in thenight, and the doctor who was called

(28:33):
diagnosed the case and warned the authoritieswas the day the Great Exposition was to
be open, and think what acase of pubonic plague would have done for
the exposition as publicity. So theFrench authorities simply had the woman disappear.
She had died toward morning. Thegeneral, who was summoned and who then
got into bed in the same roomwhere the mother had been, always seemed

(28:56):
to us like a pretty brave man. It was one of the big stockholders
in the Exposition, though I believeanyway, reader, as a piece of
secret history, it always seemed tome like an awfully good story, and
I know you would rather have meexplained it here than drag an explanation into
the novel, where, really,after all, it has no place.

(29:17):
It is interesting to observe, though, how the French police hushed the whole
matter up, and how quickly theygot ahold of the koiffure and the cab
driver. Of course, what itshows is that when you're traveling abroad alone
or even with your mother, yousimply cannot be too careful. I hope
it is all right about bringing thisin here, but I just felt I
owed it to your reader to givesome explanation. I do not believe in

(29:41):
these protracted goodbyes any more than Ido in long engagements, so I'll just
say a simple farewell and godspeed reader, and leave you now to your own
devices. End of Part four,end of The Torrents of Spring by Ernest Hemingway