Cummings, E E - The Enormous Room

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THE

ENORMOUS ROOM

E. E. CUMMINGS

BY BONI AND LIVERIGHT, INC.

1922

CONTENTS

FW FOREWORD

I. I BEGIN A PILGRIMAGE

II. EN ROUTE

III. A PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

IV. LE NOUVEAU

V. A GROUP OF PORTRAITS

VI. APOLLYON

VII. AN APPROACH TO THE DELECTABLE

MOUNTAINS

VIII. THE WANDERER

IX. ZOO-LOO

X. SURPLICE

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XI. JEAN LE NÈGRE

XII. THREE WISE MEN

XIII. I SAY GOOD-BYE TO LA MISÈRE

FOREWORD

'FOR THIS MY SON WAS DEAD,

AND IS ALIVE AGAIN;

HE WAS LOST AND IS FOUND.'

He was lost by the Norton-Harjes Ambulance Corps. He was officially dead as a result of official

misinformation.

He was entombed by the French Government.

It took the better part of three months to find him and bring him back to life with the help of powerful

and willing friends on both sides of the Atlantic. The following documents tell the story.

1104 IRVING STREET,

CAMBRIDGE,

December 8, 1917

President Woodrow Wilson,

White House, '

Washington, D.C.

MR. PRESIDENT:

It seems criminal to ask for a single moment of your time. But I am strongly advised that it

would be more criminal to delay any longer calling to your attention a crime against

American citizenship in which the French Government has persisted for many weeks---in

spite of constant appeals made to the American Minister at Paris; and in spite of subsequent

action taken by the State Department at Washington, on the initiative of my friend Hon.

-----.

The victims are two American ambulance drivers,

Edward Estlin Cummings of Cambridge, Mass., and W. S. B.

More than two months ago these young men were arrested, subjected to many indignities,

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dragged across France like criminals, and closely confined in a Concentration Camp at La

Ferté Macé; where according to latest advices they still remain,---awaiting the final action of

the Minister of the Interior upon the findings of a Commission which passed upon their

cases as long ago as October 17.

Against Cummings both private and official advices from Paris state that there is no charge

whatever. He has been subjected to this outrageous treatment solely because of his intimate

friendship with young B----, whose sole crime is,---so far as can be learned,---that certain

letters to friends in America were misinterpreted by an over-zealous French censor.

It only adds to the indignity and irony of the situation to say that young Cummings is an

enthusiastic lover of France, and so loyal to the friends he has made among the French

soldiers, that even while suffering in health from his unjust confinement, be excuses the

ingratitude of the country he has risked his life to serve, by calling attention to the

atmosphere of intense suspicion and distrust that has naturally resulted from the painful

experience which France has had with foreign emissaries.

Be assured, Mr. President, that I have waited long---it seems like ages---and have exhausted

all other available help before venturing to trouble you.

1. After many weeks of vain effort to secure effective action by the American Ambassador

at Paris, Richard Norton of the Norton-Harjes Ambulance Corps, to which the boys

belonged, was completely discouraged, and advised me to seek help here.

2. The efforts of the State Department at Washington resulted as follows:

i. A cable from Paris saying there was no charge against Cummings and

intimating that he would speedily be released.

ii. A little later a second cable advising that Edward Estlin Cummings had

sailed on the Antilles and was reported lost.

iii. A week later a third cable correcting this cruel error, and saying the

Embassy was renewing efforts to locate Cummings---apparently still ignorant

even of the place of his confinement.

After such painful and baffling experiences, I turn to you,---burdened though I know you to

be, in this world crisis, with the weightiest task ever laid upon any man.

But I have another reason for asking this favour. I do not speak for my son alone; or for him

and his friend alone. My son has a mother,---as brave and patriotic as any mother who ever

dedicated an only son to a great cause. The mothers of our boys in France have rights as

well as the boys themselves.

My boy's mother had a right to be protected from the weeks of horrible anxiety and suspense

caused by the inexplicable arrest and imprisonment of her son. My boy's mother had a right

to be spared the supreme agony caused by a blundering cable from Paris saying that he had

been drowned by a submarine. (An error which Mr. Norton subsequently cabled that he had

discovered six weeks before.) My boy's mother and all American mothers have a right to be

protected against all needless anxiety and sorrow.

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Pardon me, Mr. President, but if I were president and your son were suffering such

prolonged injustice at the hands of France; and your son's mother had been needlessly kept

in Hell as many weeks as my boy's mother has,---I would do something to make American

citizenship as sacred in the eyes of Frenchmen as Roman citizenship was in the eyes of the

ancient world. Then it was enough to ask the question, 'Is it lawful to scourge a man that is a

Roman, and uncondemned?' Now, in France, it seems lawful to treat like a condemned

criminal a man that is an American, uncondemned and admittedly innocent!

Very respectfully,

EDWARD CUMMINGS

This letter was received at the White House. 'Whether, it was received with sympathy or with silent

disapproval, is still a mystery. A Washington official, a friend in need and a friend indeed in these trying

experiences, took the precaution to have it delivered by messenger. Otherwise, fear that it had been 'lost

in the mail' would have added another twinge of uncertainty to the prolonged and exquisite tortures

inflicted upon parents by alternations of misinformation and official silence. Doubtless the official

stethoscope was on the heart of the world just then; and perhaps it was too much to expect that even a

post-card would be wasted on private heart-aches.

In any event this letter told where to look for the missing boys,---something the French Government

either could not or would not disclose, in spite of constant pressure by the American Embassy at Paris

and constant efforts by my friend Richard Norton, who was head of the Norton-Harjes Ambulance

organization from which they had been abducted.

Release soon followed, as narrated in the following letter to Major --- of the Staff of the judge Advocate

General in Paris.

February 20, 1921.

MY DEAR MR.------

Your letter of January 30th, which I had been waiting for with great interest ever since I

received your cable, arrived this morning. My son arrived in New York on January 1st. He

was in bad shape physically as a result of his imprisonment: very much under weight,

suffering from a bad skin infection which he had acquired at the concentration camp.

However, in view of the extraordinary facilities which the detention camp offered for

acquiring dangerous diseases, he is certainly to be congratulated on having escaped with one

of the least harmful. The medical treatment at the camp was quite in keeping with the

general standards of sanitation there; with the result that it was not until he began to receive

competent surgical treatment after his release and on board ship that there was much chance

of improvement. A month of competent medical treatment here seems to have got rid of this

painful reminder of official hospitality. He is, at present, visiting friends in New York. If he

were here, I am sure he would join with me and with his mother in thanking you for the

interest you have taken and the efforts you have made.

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W. S. B.. is, I am happy to say, expected in New York this week by the S.S. Niagara. News

of his release and subsequently of his departure came by cable. What you say about the

nervous strain under which he was living, as an explanation of the letters to which the

authorities objected, is entirely borne out by first-hand information. The kind of badgering

which the youth received was enough to upset a less sensitive temperament. It speaks

volumes for the character of his environment that such treatment aroused the resentment of

only one of his companions,, and that even this manifestation of normal human sympathy

was regarded as 'suspicious.' If you are right in characterizing B----'s condition as more or

less hysterical, what shall we say of the conditions which made possible the treatment which

he and his friend received? I am glad B----- wrote the very sensible and manly letter to the

Embassy, which you mention.

After I have had an opportunity to converse with him, I shall be in better position to reach a

conclusion in regard to certain matters about which I will not now express an opinion.

I would only add that I do not in the least share your complacency in regard to the treatment

which my son received. The very fact that, as you say, no charges were made and that he

was detained on suspicion for many weeks after the Commission passed on his case and

reported to the Minister of the Interior that he ought to be released, leads me to a conclusion

exactly opposite to that which you express. It seems to me impossible to believe that any

well-ordered Government would fail to acknowledge such action to have been unreasonable.

Moreover, 'detention on suspicion' was a small part of what actually took place. To take a

single illustration, you will recall that after many weeks' persistent effort to secure

information, the Embassy was still kept so much in the dark about the facts, that it cabled

the report that my son had embarked on The Antilles and was reported lost. And when

convinced of that error, the Embassy cabled that it was renewing efforts to locate my son.

Up to that moment, it would appear that the authorities had not even condescended to tell

the United States Embassy where this innocent American citizen was confined; so that a

mistaken report of his death was regarded as an adequate explanation of his disappearance.

If I had accepted this report and taken no further action, it is by no means certain that he

would not be dead by this time.

I am free to say, that in my opinion no self-respecting Government could allow one of its

own citizens, against whom there has been no accusation brought, to be subjected to such

prolonged indignities and injuries by a friendly Government without vigorous remonstrance.

I regard it as a patriotic duty, as well as a matter of personal self-respect, to do what I can to

see. that such remonstrance is made. I still think too highly both of my own Government and

of the Government of France to believe that such an untoward incident will fail to receive

the serious attention it deserves. If I am wrong, and American citizens must expect to suffer

such indignities and injuries at the hands of other Governments without any effort at

remonstrance and redress by their own Government, I believe the public ought to know the

humiliating truth. It will make interesting reading. It remains for my son to determine what

action he will take.

I am glad to know your son is returning. I am looking forward with great pleasure to

conversing with him.

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I cannot adequately express my gratitude to you and to other friends for the sympathy and

assistance I have received. If any expenses have been incurred on my behalf or on behalf of

my son, I beg you to give me the pleasure of reimbursing you. At best, I must always remain

your debtor.

With best wishes,

Sincerely yours,

EDWARD CUMMINGS

I yield to no one in enthusiasm for the cause of France. Her cause was our cause and the cause of

civilization.; and the tragedy is that it took us so long to find it out. I would gladly have risked my life for

her, as my son risked his and would have risked it again had not the departure of his regiment overseas

been stopped by the Armistice.

France was beset with enemies within as well as without. Some of the 'suspects' were members of her

official household. Her Minister of Interior was thrown into prison. She was distracted with fear. Her

existence was at stake. Under such circumstances excesses were sure to be committed. But it is precisely

at such times that American citizens most need and are most entitled to the protection of their own

Government.

EDWARD CUMMINGS

Chapter One

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THE ENORMOUS ROOM

I BEGIN A PILGRIMAGE

'WE had succeeded, my friend B. and I, in dispensing with almost three of our six months' engagement as

Conducteurs Volontaires, Section Sanitaire Vingt-et-Un,. Ambulance Norton Harjes, Croix Rouge

Américaine, and at the Moment which subsequent experience served to capitalize had just finished the

unlovely job of cleaning and greasing (nettoyer is the proper word) the own private flivver of the chef de

section, a gentleman by the convenient name of Mr. A. To borrow a characteristic cadence from Our

Great President: the lively satisfaction which we might be suspected of having derived from the

accomplishment of a task so important in the saving of civilization from the clutches of Prussian tyranny

was in some degree inhibited, unhappily, by a complete absence of cordial relations between the man

whom fate had placed over us and ourselves. Or, to use the vulgar American idiom, B. and I and Mr. A.

didn't get on well. We were in fundamental disagreement as to the attitude which we, Americans, should

uphold toward the poilus in whose behalf we had volunteered assistance, Mr. A. maintaining 'you boys

want to keep away from those dirty Frenchmen' and 'we're here to show those bastards how they do

things in America,' to which we answered by seizing every opportunity for fraternization. Inasmuch as

eight dirty Frenchmen were attached to the section in various capacities (cook, provisioner, chauffeur,

mechanician, etc.), and the section itself was affiliated with a branch of the French army, fraternization

was easy. Now when he saw that we had not the slightest intention of adopting his ideals, Mr. A.

(together with the sous-lieutenant who acted as his translator---for the chef's knowledge of the French

language, obtained during several years' heroic service, consisted for the most part in 'Sar var,' 'Sar

marche,' 'Deet donk moan vieux') confined his efforts to denying us the privilege of acting as

conducteurs, on the ground that our personal appearance was a disgrace to the section. In this, I am

bound to say, Mr. A. was but sustaining the tradition conceived originally by his predecessor, a Mr. P., a

Harvard man, who until his departure from Vingt-et-Un succeeded in making life absolutely miserable

for B. and myself. Before leaving this painful subject I beg to state that, at least as far as I was concerned,

the tradition had a firm foundation in my own predisposition for uncouthness plus what Le Matin (if we

remember correctly) cleverly nicknamed La Boue Héroïque.

Having accomplished the nettoyage (at which we were by this time adepts, thanks to Mr. A.'s habit of

detailing us to wash any car which its driver and aide might consider too dirty a task for their own hands)

we proceeded in search of a little water for personal use. B. speedily finished his ablutions. I was

strolling carelessly and solo from the cook-wagon toward one of the two tents---which protestingly

housed some forty huddling Americans by night---holding in my hand an historic morceau de chocolat,

when a spic not to say span gentleman in a suspiciously quiet French uniform allowed himself to be

driven up to the bureau by two neat soldiers with tin derbies, in a Renault whose painful cleanliness

shamed my recent efforts. This must be a general at least, I thought, regretting the extremely undress

character of my uniform, which uniform consisted of overalls and a cigarette.

Having furtively watched the gentleman alight and receive a ceremonious welcome from the chef and the

aforesaid French lieutenant who accompanied the section for translatory reasons, I hastily betook myself

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to one of the tents, where I found B. engaged in dragging all his belongings into a central pile of

frightening proportions. He was surrounded by a group of fellow-heroes who hailed my coming with

considerable enthusiasm. 'Your bunky's leaving,' said somebody. 'Going to Paris,' volunteered a man,

who had been trying for three months to get there. 'Prison, you mean,' remarked a confirmed optimist

whose disposition had felt the effects of the French climate.

Albeit confused by the eloquence of B.'s unalterable silence, I immediately associated his present

predicament with the advent of the mysterious stranger, and forthwith dashed forth bent on demanding

from one of the tin-derbies the high identity and sacred mission of this personage. I knew that with the

exception of ourselves every one in the section bad been given his permission de sept jours---even two

men who had arrived later than we and whose turn should subsequently have come after ours. I also

knew that at the headquarters of the Ambulance, 7 rue François premier, se trouvait Monsieur Norton,

thesupreme head of the Norton Harjes fraternity, who had known my father in other days. Putting two

and two together I decided that this potentate had sent an emissary to Mr. A. to demand an explanation of

the various and sundry insults and indignities to which I and my friend had been subjected, and more

particularly to secure our long-delayed per-mission. Accordingly I was in high spirits as I rushed toward

the bureau.

I didn't have to go far. The mysterious one, in conversation with monsieur le sous-lieutenant, met me

halfway. I caught the words: 'And Cummings [the first and last time that my name was correctly

pronounced by a Frenchman], where is he?'

'Present,' I said, giving a salute to which neither of them paid the slightest attention.

'Ah yes,' impenetrably remarked the mysterious one in positively sanitary English. 'You shall put all your

baggage in the car, at once'---then, to tin-derby-the-first, who appeared in an occult manner at his

master's elbow'Allez avec lui, chercher ses affaires, de suite.'

My affaires were mostly in the vicinity of the cuisine, where lodged the cuisinier, mécanicien, menuisier,

etc, who had made room for me (some ten days since) on their own initiative, thus saving me the

humiliation of sleeping with nineteen Americans in a tent which was always two-thirds full of mud.

Thither I led the tin-derby, who scrutinized everything with surprising interest. I threw mes affaires

hastily together (including some minor accessories which I was going to leave behind; but which the t-d

bade me include) and emerged with a duffle-bag under one arm and a bed-roll under the other, to

encounter my excellent friends the dirty Frenchmen aforesaid. They all popped out together from one

door, looking rather astonished. Something by way of explanation as well as farewell was most certainly

required, so I made a speech in my best French:

'Gentlemen, friends, comrades---I am going away immediately and shall be guillotined to-morrow,'

---'Oh hardly guillotined I should say,' remarked t-d, in a voice which froze my marrow--- despite my

high spirits; while the cook and carpenter gaped audibly and the mechanician clutched a hopelessly

smashed carburetter for support.

One of the section's voitures, a F.I.A.T., was standing ready. General Nemo sternly forbade me to

approach the Renault (in which B.'s baggage was already deposited) and waved me into the F.I.A.T. bed,

bed-roll and all; whereupon t-d leaped in and seated himself opposite me in a position of perfect

unrelaxation which, despite my aforesaid exultation at quitting the section in general and Mr. A. in

particular, impressed me as being almost menacing. Through the front window I saw my friend drive

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away with t-d number 2 and Nemo; then, having waved hasty farewell to all les Américains that I

knew---3 in number---and having exchanged affectionate greetings with Mr. A. (who admitted he was

very sorry indeed to lose us), I experienced the jolt of the clutch---and we were off in pursuit.

'Whatever may have been the forebodings inspired by t-d number 1's attitude, they were completely

annihilated by the thrilling joy which I experienced on losing sight of the accursed section and its asinine

inhabitants---by the indisputable and authentic thrill of going somewhere and nowhere under the

miraculous auspices of some one and no one---of being yanked from the putrescent banalities of an

official non-existence into a high and clear adventure, by a deus ex machina in a grey-blue uniform and a

couple of tin-derbies. I whistled and sang and cried to my vis-à-vis: 'By the way, who is yonder

distinguished gentleman who has been so good as to take my friend and me on this little

promenade?'---to which, between lurches of the groaning F.I.A.T., t-d replied awesomely, clutching at

the window for the benefit of his equilibrium: 'Monsieur le Ministre de Sûreté de Noyon.'

Not in the least realizing what this might mean, I grinned. A responsive grin, visiting informally the tired

cheeks of my confrère, ended by frankly connecting his worthy and enormous ears which were squeezed

into oblivion by the oversize casque. My eyes, jumping from those cars, lit on that helmet and noticed for

the first time an emblem, a sort of flowering little explosion, or hair-switch rampant. It seemed to me

very jovial and a little absurd.

'We're on our way to Noyon, then?'

T-d shrugged his shoulders.

Here the driver's hat blew off. I beard him swear, and saw the hat sailing in our wake. I jumped to my

feet as the F.I.A.T. came to a sudden stop, and started for the ground---then checked my flight in mid-air

and landed on the seat, completely astonished. T-d's revolver, which had hopped from its holster at my

first move, slid back into its nest. The owner of the revolver was muttering something rather

disagreeable. The driver (being an American of Vingt-et-Un) was backing up instead of retrieving his cap

in person. My mind felt as if it had been thrown suddenly from fourth into reverse. I pondered and said

nothing.

On again---faster, to make up for lost time. On the correct assumption that t-d does not understand

English, the driver passes the time of day through the minute window:

'For Christ's sake, Cummings, what's up?'

'You got me,' I said, laughing at the delicate naïveté of the question.

'Did y' do something to get pinched?'

'Probably,' I answered importantly and vaguely, feeling a new dignity.

'Well, if you didn't, maybe B---- did.'

"Maybe,' I countered, trying not to appear enthusiastic. As a matter of fact I was never so excited and

proud. I was, to be sure, a criminal! Well, well, thank God that settled one question for good and all---no

more section sanitaire for me! No more Mr. A. and his daily lectures on cleanliness, deportment, etc. In

spite of myself I started to sing. The driver interrupted:

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'I heard you asking the tin lid something in French. Whadhesay?'

'Said that gink in the Renault is the head cop of Noyon,' I answered at random.

'GOOD-NIGHT. Maybe we'd better ring off, or you'll get in wrong with'---he indicated t-d with a wave

of his head that communicated itself to the car in a magnificent skid; and t-d's derby rang out as the skid

pitched t-d the length of the F.I.A.T.

'You rang the bell then,' I commended-then to t-d: 'Nice car for the wounded to ride in,' I politely

observed. T-d answered nothing....

Noyon.

'We drive straight up to something which looks unpleasantly like a feudal dungeon. The driver is now

told to be somewhere at a certain time, and meanwhile to eat with the Head Cop, who may be found just

around the corner---(I am doing the translating for --and, oh yes; it seems that the Head Cop has

particularly requested the pleasure of this distinguished American's company at déjeuner.

'Does he mean me?' the driver asked innocently.

'Sure,' I told him.

Nothing is said of B. or me.

Now, cautiously, t-d first and I a slow next, we descend. The F.I.A.T. rumbles off, with the distinguished

one's backward-glaring head poked out a yard more or less, and that distinguished face so completely

surrendered to mystification as to cause a large laugh on my part.

'Vous avez faim?'

It was the erstwhile-ferocious speaking. A criminal, I remembered, is somebody against whom

everything he says and does is very cleverly made use of. After weighing the matter in my mind for some

moments I decided at all cost to tell the truth, and replied:

'I could eat an elephant.'

Hereupon t-d led me to the Kitchen Itself, set me to eat upon a stool, and admonished the cook in a fierce

voice:

'Give this great criminal something to eat in the name of the French Republic!'

And for the first time in three months I tasted Food.

T-d seated himself beside me, opened a huge jack-knife, and fell to, after first removing his tin-derby and

loosening his belt.

One of the pleasantest memories connected with that irrevocable meal is of a large, gentle, strong woman

who entered in a hurry, and seeing me cried out:

'What is it?'

'It's an American, my mother,' t-d answered through fried potatoes.

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