Good Things out of Nazareth
Page 35
Could you come by here on your way home? I think you would be doing violence to your trip to bypass Grand Coteau. We are right between the towns of Lafayette and Opelousas, La., deep in the real Cajun country. And such damp beauty you never saw…And if you come through Alexandria, Louisiana, I would like for you all to meet my charming sister Helen and her beautiful family of seven children…And, of course, if you do come through Mobile my Mother remembers you fondly and would love to see you again.
Love
Fr. McCown
ROBERT GIROUX TO ROBERT FITZGERALD
O’Connor’s editor and friend describes a memorial Mass. The ecumenical interfaith congregation testifies to O’Connor’s wide appeal. Giroux also notes that even in death, O’Connor is misunderstood, evident in an obituary in a national magazine. Giroux asks Fitzgerald to write an introduction to the posthumous collection of her stories, Everything That Rises Must Converge.
29 EAST 66TH ST.
NEW YORK CITY 21
[AUGUST 1964]
I am most grateful for your letter. The Mass for Flannery on August 7th at St. Patrick’s [Cathedral, New York City] was something of an occasion. The celebrant was a poet, Fr Francis Sweeney of Boston College (a friend of Tom and Valerie [Eliot]) and a great admirer of Flannery’s, who had had a letter from her only two weeks before her death. Though he had never met her, they corresponded, and she was to have participated in a writer’s conference on his campus last April. Boston priests are much more liturgically advanced than New York ones, and Fr. Sweeney spoke the Mass to the small group in the Lady Chapel and expected responses in Latin and got them, to the amazement of local monsignori who don’t yet know what dialogue is. Father wore white vestments because the Blessed Sacrament was exposed at the main altar, but as he explained white is a mourning color too, and it was truly appropriate for Flannery.
It was quite an ecumenical occasion, and about one third of those present were not Catholics and perhaps not Christians, though all were there out of love of Flannery—Catherine Carver, Eliz. McKee, Arabel Porter, Margaret Marshall, etc, etc. John Farrar came from my firm and Hal Vursell. Several Georgia people in town, Maryat Lee and Alexander [sic] Sessions [William], who could not get to the funeral (August 4th) in Milledgeville. Paul Horgan (who had taught F. at Iowa) turned up.
I’ve written Regina about the occasion, and I do believe it is one that Flannery would have been pleased with. It would not have happened as it did without Fr. Sweeney (who has good friends on the cathedral staff); if I had tried to arrange it myself, I do not believe I could have. I could not reach Caroline [Gordon] but got Percy Wood in Princeton; she was away in New England.
We have eight stories for EVERYTHING THAT RISES MUST CONVERGE, and Katy Carver tells me she saw two stories that F. wanted to add—“Judgement Day” and “Parker’s Back.” I hope there are no executor complications with the estate. I have not (understandably) heard from Regina.
Robert, would you be willing to do a preface for the book? Something personal and perhaps biographical about Flannery, as well as critical if you so elect? This should be a memorial to her. We want to bring it out in early Spring, if possible. So few people seem to have the facts straight. Did you see that irritating Time obit—“backwoods Georgia” indeed. You and Sally knew Flannery in a way that few did; she was not easy to know. Will you consider this as a formal offer from Farrar, Straus and Giroux (as we will be as of January 1st) to write the introduction? I do hope you will accept.
With all my love to you and Sally,
Yours ever,
Robert
FATHER JAMES McCOWN TO THOMAS AND LOUISE GOSSETT
Father McCown notes that O’Connor’s pithy statements just months after her death are becoming quotable. Her memorable phrases in later years have made her one of the most quoted American authors. Tom’s book also occupies a vital place in its revelations of unknown aspects of American history, as noted by Father McCown. Gossett’s tracing “race,” the “history of an idea,” had an impact on the Jesuit order’s dedication to racial justice and diversity.9
HOLY NAME OF JESUS CHURCH
6383 ST. CHARLES AVENUE
NEW ORLEANS 18, LOUISIANA
FALL, 1964
Somewhere I have your ecstatic letter written after our viaje mexicana, so my response to it will not be very sensible, since I cannot find it. However, I just wanted to write you about this and that. A half a dozen people sent me clippings about Flannery. They have been on top of my desk getting yellow. I don’t know what to do with such things. Please take what you don’t already have and throw the rest away. Also enclosed is a real nice letter of Flannery’s, possibly the last of any length that I got. I found it in a Manila folder where I had a talk I gave in Macon last year. The occasion for this letter was that talk. The Catholic women of Macon asked me to speak on “Catholic Authors,” so I asked Flannery to write me a “short paragraph” on some of her preferred ones, or to give me any other ideas she might have. Her line “If they are good they are dangerous,” ought to be immortalized. The markings on the letter were made by me, because I read this letter to the ladies, only omitting the part about her health. The Louise, dear Louise, at the bottom of p. 2 is not yourself but a colored woman who works for the O’Connors, and Shot is her husband. We had fishing worms and a dollar tip to draw us together.
Tom, I am so proud of the recognition that RACE [Race: The History of an Idea in America] is getting. It deserves every single bit of it. It fills a very real need, it seems to me…
I am going to take a day off today and ride down to Pass Christian. I love it there. I have to prune some grapevines I planted there years ago.
Love,
Fr. McCown
ROSLYN BARNES TO FATHER JAMES H. McCOWN
Roslyn Barnes is the first American to teach the fiction of both O’Connor and Percy in a Latin American university. Discussion of a crucifix also perhaps reveals the impact of the incarnationalism of O’Connor’s “The Displaced Person” and “The Artificial Nigger.”
CASELLA 1280
U. DEL NORTE
ANTOFAGASTA, CHILE
WEDNESDAY SEPT 23, 64
Dear Fr,
It was a pleasure for me to find your letter waiting when I returned here from September vacation yesterday. I visited in the South, and now it rains for the first time in 15 months—Spring is coming now. In Santiago with another girl, a new volunteer. I climbed up the mountainside outside the city to the Benedictine Monastery, my favorite place there. The view is breathtaking from the top! And the chapel of the monks is my idea of what a church should be. Very very simple, lots of windows in plain glass of different shades of gold, no statues cluttering up the place. The altar is blond wood, very plain, and Mass is offered facing the congregation. The candles are big and fat and are just set flat on the altar with no holders. The monks—most of them German—chant and afterwards give you tea and bread before the long walk back to the highway. They are friendly and have simplicity and live close to the earth. It is good to be here. You’re going to miss that kind of thing in the parish where you are, aren’t you? I’m so sorry. For someone who loves what Mexico is, your assignment is going to be hell, I guess. So’s mine. The last thing the Chileans are is simple and spontaneous.
Thank you for offering me just simple friendship. Please don’t think about whether you are giving me what I need or not. To love and be loved—what else is there to need?
I would like very much to meet your friend Walker Percy. I read The Moviegoer, and like it so much that I’m using it in a literature course of mine. He is a medical doctor, isn’t he?
I also know Mrs. O’Connor, and got a plucky note from her too…
I have a straw crucifix on my wall. I happened to look up and
see it just now—it’s from Mexico, and it’s the only crucifix I’ve seen I really like. You know the kind you find in all the marketplaces, nothing unusual. The color is gold, and I think of Christ Glorified when I see it. I don’t think one ought to go around being “resigned” to things, do you? And I remember a lovely passage from Ivon le Fort. Do you know it?
“Then I said: ‘Lord, it is a crown of suffering, let me die of it.’ But the voice spoke: ‘Know you not that suffering is immortal. I have transfigured the Infinite: Christ is risen!’ ”
Well on that cheery note I had better be on my way. Oh, it was so good to hear from you! I wish I could meet you in person. Thanks for offering to send me the books, but better not to send them yet, because I don’t know how much long I will be here, perhaps only 2–3 months more. If I should happen to come back to the States in February or March, could I stop by a few days to see you in La [Louisiana]? I’ll be broke—but might if you know some respectable sisters who have a respectable couch? Would be so glad to have your opinion on my thesis. At the moment it is in Peru, with a Mother Superior who I’m hoping will give me a job next year.10 But when she returns it, I’ll send it your way. Thanks for your interest.
Good-bye for now. Let me hear from you.
WALKER PERCY TO THOMAS MERTON
In the previous letter Barnes notes she is teaching Percy’s The Moviegoer in Latin America. The novel is gaining international readership. In January 1964 Thomas Merton writes Percy to ask if he could help arrange for the novel’s publication in France. Percy happily assents to more international exposure.
FEBRUARY 14
Dear Tom Merton—or Fr. Louis as the case may be—
I remember the “Fr. Louis” from another book you wrote—
Your letter meant much to me—I am a slow writer, easily discouraged, and depend on luck, grace, and a good word from others.
You make me want to read Julien Green [French-American novelist and playwright]—
Yes, please send me an abstract calligraphy!
No, The Moviegoer was published in Denmark, Italy, England, but not France—yes, tell the guys at Le Seuil [French publisher]!
I am reading your poetry.
ROSLYN BARNES TO FATHER JAMES McCOWN
Barnes’s formation with Msgr. Illich and her study of O’Connor enables her to understand Latin American history first as a Catholic and secondarily as an American. The historical outlook is different from the conventional, predominantly “American” perspective rooted in progressivist history. The American story looks different, as Barnes reveals, when the narrative originates in the pre-colonial appearance of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Most textbooks, instead, locate American beginnings in colonial New England.
CORREO AEREO
MONDAY NOV 17 1964
Dear Father,
How good it always is to hear from you! Would you let me read your book on Mexico? I’d love to. I liked the chapter that you sent me that time. I’m doing a—well, I wouldn’t dare call it a book yet, but maybe someday—on Our Lady of Guadalupe. I think she’s a “Displaced Person” and I want to put her back where she belongs: in her pre-hispanic theocultural setting. I think she came to fulfill the precolumbian religious concepts, which were beautiful and sound, not to replace them. So I’m studying prehispanic theology and trying to figure out as well as I can the terrific appeal which she had for people of those beliefs from the beginning. I think the idea was to sanctify the authentic, indigenous spirituality, not to make them adapt a European form of Christianity. Anyway, that’s my idea. I’m glad I don’t have a Supervisor to decide its fate. It is going to be very difficult. I don’t know if I can do it, but it’s so lovely to study the ancient ritual and beliefs. They were so beautiful, and many of them are still practiced, though usually in degenerate forms in many Indian communities. I hope Ixmiguilpan works out for you. The…never did get cultured, it seems. The Aztecs called them “barbarians.” Actually the Aztecs were far more civilized and virtuous than their Spanish conquerors. One of Cortez’ soldiers commented: We have never imagined anything like this in our wildest dreams…was bigger than…or Seville at the time and more beautiful than Venice. A good writer on pre-hispanic Mexico is Miguel (?) Leon-Portilla. Paul Westheim, too and Jacques Soustelle. All these have a certain “sympathy” that deepens their comprehension considerably. Vaillant’s book—the one you mentioned—is not really good and has some serious inaccuracies. Neither is another “popular” version, the one by von Hogan. Alfonso Caso is very good…
You know I have doubts that the Feb. trip is going to result. Unless a job turns up in the US—and that’s unlikely in the middle of the school year—I may stay on in Chile until next September. I will write my aunt about Flannery’s letters. I left them in her house with other things to keep. I had not thought of writing an article on Flannery, though it had entered my mind to do someday a criticism of her stories. It will always be one of the sorrows of my life that I never did get close to her really. With me she was extremely reticent and I didn’t know how to get her to reveal herself to me. We corresponded regularly and I was and am devoted to her. Why didn’t any real intimacy happen? I don’t know. Maybe partly the presence of Mrs. O’C. Or maybe she needed to be strong so much that she couldn’t let herself become vulnerable the way you do if you let someone come very close to you. Maybe she suffered so much it was better not to look directly at how much or let anybody else look. F. invited me to see her—and then she kept her distance. Of course, we never had a chance to talk alone for any length of time. I often wondered, and do wonder now, what exactly it was that kept us strangers to one another when we should have been so close. I never had the nerve to ask her. Did I fail her someway? I don’t know. And I don’t know how close others got to her. I wouldn’t dare do an article on her, though of the “personal type.” I have an “intuition” of her—but it’s no more than that…
Well—a biography?!—I was born and bred in Ga. along with Flannery + Brer Rabbit, a small town named Pine Mountain. I went to college in M’ville the first 4 years—that’s how I got to know F.—and then went to Iowa for grad. work. And here I am in L A [Latin America]. That’s a pretty lame excuse for a biography, I know. But you’ll just have to know me in person, Father. This is one [of] those times when words just don’t suffice! What about you? Are you from the South originally? I know you have a brother who’s a Jesuit, too. Did he once publish an article on F.? I saw one awhile back by a Robert McC. [Robert McCown, “The Education of a Prophet: A Study of Flannery O’Connor’s The Violent Bear It Away”] Is he yours?
I’m enclosing an “experiment” of mine. Please tell me what you think of it?
Thanks for the “perfume.” Consider yourself, “lightly hugged and chastely kissed!”
Con mucho cariño
Roslyn
P. S. What are the “J” and the “H” for?
* * *
Barnes notes a Maryknoll priest instructed her about a sacrament through a story by O’Connor. The same religious offered a Mass for her, perhaps the only one celebrated for O’Connor in Africa. Barnes also inquires about tension between religious who write literature and their superiors.
CORREO AEREO
THURSDAY EVENING
Dear Fr.,
You are so good to me and without ever having even so much as seen me! Do you suppose your Bishop would give me a dispensation to hug you? Anyway, consider it done by Panagra—It wasn’t perfume, but it was equivalent—equivalent and yellow and organdy. OK?…
Thank you for welcoming me to New Orleans. I hope the trip works out, but can’t tell yet, until I know more or less what my future’s going to be like after Christmas….
A Mass was offered for Flannery in Tanganyika [now Tanzania, Africa]. By the young Maryknoller who gave me my first
3 mo. of Instruction. I knew him when we were both in Writer’s [sic] Workshop at Iowa, and he used Flannery’s “The River” to teach me about the Sacrament of Baptism. An awfully nice person. His novel was coming along well. But his Superior won’t give him permission to publish it. Well, maybe someday—But it seems to me that some way ought to be provided of protecting religious from the errors and prejudices of Superiors. Look at what happened to Fr. Teilhard [de Chardin], and Sahagun [Bernardino, General History of the Things of New Spain] himself was threatened with the Inquisition for his invaluable research. I realize that all Superiors can’t be superior. There are bound to be mediocre ones. But since this is true, why can’t there be worked out some system of protection from them? Has the Pope thought of this? Of course he probably doesn’t run into such things with his Superior…
Will close now—am out of paper, news, and time. Write me when you get a chance, & take it easy on the Cuba libre’s—
affectionately,
Roslyn
Writing from Chile, Barnes notes that she is teaching O’Connor’s fiction. She is grateful for the depth of O’Connor’s friendship. O’Connor is instrumental in Barnes’s conversion and her reading a famous Jesuit. Barnes, also through O’Connor, came to understand the meaning of love. Her description illustrates Msgr. Ivan Illich’s spiritual formation had a profound impact.