Ida a Novel

by Gertrude Stein

  The crowd for a moment would be still and then without any definable cause, the swaying and pushing would begin again. The heat was intense. The noises of the street came through the widely-open windows adding to the confused hum within. To avoid the heat the lights were low but the moon shone in making strange lights and shadows through the stained windows and making that strange crowd look still more weird.

  Far away in the end of the church hardly distinguishable in the dim light stood the young preacher in his priestly robes waiting for the people to be still. At last he raised his hand and began his prayer. None could kneel in that densely packed throng and so all simply bowed their heads.

  This attitude of prayer to an observer not participating in it has always a strange fascination. The sight of all those people bowing before a power that they dimly recognize, little children, aged grandfathers and strong men all joining in that act of prayer, is peculiarly impressive. It is a solemn and a melancholy sight to the skeptic filling him with disquieting reflections on the real worth of things. What does it all mean? Why this universal bending before, what, a God of wrath, a God of love which or neither? Are we really only the victims of blind force. “Into this universe and why not knowing,

  Nor whence, like water willy-nilly flowing;

  And out of it, as Wind along the wastes,

  I know not whither, willy nilly blowing.”4

  Why?, why?, thus Hortense, her whole soul filled with longing thought and questioned, “A longing and for what,” she muttered, “I would not be as they.” What then, she did not know. She struggled with her thought, she tried to throw off the weight, the intolerable burden of solving for herself the great world-questions.

  “After all” she continued to herself dreamily Omar Khayyam is right. “The me within thee blind” “While you live drink: —for, once dead, you never shall return; Dream-life is the only life worth living.” And then with new fervor, she muttered looking at the preacher over that sea of bowed heads, “Go on, I’ll catch your ecstacy. I’ll bow my soul to the melody of your voice and yield myself to all the suggestions of the moment. Let me only be at rest and cease to wonder why, why, why. There is no answer, there shall no longer be a questioning.” Her muttering ceased and with it, the prayer came to an end. The heads were raised and again a movement began among the crowd.

  More people were forced in front of Hortense and she stepped back on to a landing.5 Behind her there were also some people but not so tightly pressed together. The girl was forced back against one of the men standing in a corner, her friends were just below her. She had not noticed this man before, she did not look at him now, but he taking advantage of the position leaned toward her rather heavily. She felt his touch. At first she was only half-aware of it, but soon she became conscious of his presence. The sensuous impressions had done their work only too well. The magic charm of a human touch was on her and she could not stir. She loathed herself but still she did not move.

  Now she became conscious that possibly her friends would notice her proximity to this fellow. Even that did not stir her. Her busy brain was active in weaving excuses. She remembered her well-known tendency to absent-mindedness. “I can tell them I was unconscious and grow indignant if they accuse me.”

  The voice of the preacher continued off in the distance but the words did not penetrate her brain. At last she became unconscious of the voice and of the crowd, she only felt the human touch and thought of the reasons she should give for her position.

  At last she noticed her aunt motioning to her. “Not yet,” she said to herself, “I won’t see her.” Then with a quick revulsion she continued fiercely, “Liar and coward, will you continue this, have you no sense of shame?” and all the while her eyes were fixed on the preacher and she looked the embodiment of intelligent interest.

  She seemed to herself, to be growing apathetic. She tried to force herself to move but she could not. She upbraided herself, she grew more violent in her thoughts and yet she did not move.

  At last one of her cousins forced her way to her, touched her arm and said that her mother wanted to go home. Hortense stepped down & together they made their way out of the crowded church.

  *

  After leaving the church they all walked on very silently for some time. A chill had crept into the air. The joy had gone out of the streets. In place of the dancing children and the careless groups of elders, there were now but the weird wavering shadows of the trees. The sky had become over-cast, all nature seemed to feel the reaction of sadness and chill after the excitement of this summer evening.

  The group began to separate slightly, Hortense walking ahead with her favorite cousin. There was an uneasy silence that she tried again and again to break, but could not. A strange feeling came over her as they walked on. She began to wonder whether she had really done this thing, whether she had yielded herself consciously or whether after all the position was accidental and she not a willing subject. The excuses that she had framed to herself in the height of the excitement had taken an abiding hold on her and had become not excuses but a reality.

  She wondered to see the process go on within herself. She tried to shake off her apathy but could not. She was only a spectator and within herself gradually began without any effort of her own, a growing conviction that after all it had been absent-mindedness. Again she tried to struggle against this process, tried to force herself to confess the truth to her companion. It was useless, the false conviction increasing, soon took possession of her entirely, she was mentally paralysed.

  Her cousin now also attempted to break the silence. At last they began to talk in rather a strained fashion. The tension was too much for Hortense, she drew the accusation down upon herself at last by asking somewhat indignantly, what the matter was. At this her cousin began telling her how pained and ashamed they all had been at seeing her so far forget herself.

  When the accusation was actually worded, all Hortense’s doubts were at an end. She became filled completely with the sense of her own guiltlessness. She grew indignant and her anger passed directly into words. “What” she said frowning, “do you think as meanly of me as that? Can you believe that I could do a thing of that sort consciously? You all are ready enough to think ill of me if you can so easily accuse me of this. Don’t you know well enough, how unconscious I am of the things about me when I get interested? You know how absent-minded I am and yet it does not seem to have occurred to you that I was unconscious of that fellow’s presence.”

  Her indignation grew stronger with its expression and she now only felt that she was innocent and wronged. Her cousin only too glad to receive her justification promised to tell the rest as soon as possible. This brought from Hortense another out-burst of wrath. “Tell them or not as you please, if you all have thought me guilty you can continue to do so for aught I care.” She continued the walk home silently, deeply angered, convinced now beyond question that she had been wronged. She felt that she was innocent, that her violation was only a hideous fantasy.

  The next morning, according to her wont Hortense lay out on the grass basking in the sun-shine. Doubts began to assail her. Was she innocent, was she guilty? Had she been willing or had she only had a delusive sense of volition and could she really not have avoided her position. She lay there looking into the depths of the blue sky wondering and struggling.

  Now the full conviction of her guilt would rush upon her and gritting her teeth muttering fiercely, she would struggle with the thought, then an apathetic feeling would succeed, and she would be certain that she had not been in the wrong.

  Her old sense of isolation began to surge over her. Again she had become one apart. Again there was something that none knew beside herself, that no one else of those about her had been guilty of. The struggle continued at intervals all that day. She was outwardly as usual. In fact she herself seemed to take very little part in the war of doubts waged so hotly within her. She felt the struggle, she heard the reasons given again and again, but she he
rself seemed to be but an apathetic spectator.

  YCAL 10.239

  Film

  Deux Soeurs Qui Ne Sont Pas Soeurs

  (1929)

  Au coin d’une rue d’un boulevard extérieur de Paris une blanchisseuse d’un certain âge avec son paquet de linge qu’elle était en train de livrer, s’arrête pour prendre dans ses mains et regarder la photo de deux caniches blancs et elle la regarde avec ardeur. Une automobile de deux places stationnait le long du trottoir. Tout à coup, deux dames en descendent et se précipitent sur la blanchisseuse en demandant à voir la photo. Elle la fait voir et les deux dames sont pleines d’admiration jusqu’au moment où une jeune femme qui est coiffée comme si elle venait d’avoir un prix au concours de beauté et après s’être égarée dans la rue, passe et à ce moment voit l’auto vide, se dépêche d’entrer et se met à pleurer. A ce moment, les deux dames entrent dans l’auto et jettent la jeune femme dehors. Elle tombe contre la blanchisseuse qui commence à la questionner, et l’auto, conduite par les deux dames part, et tout à coup la blanchisseuse voit qu’elle n’a plus sa photo. Elle voit un jeune homme et elle lui raconte tout de suite l’histoire.

  Quelques heures plus tard, devant un bureau de placement, rue du Dragon, il y a une autre blanchisseuse plus jeune avec son paquet de linge. La voiture des deux dames approche, s’arrête, et les deux dames descendent et font voir à la blanchisseuse la photo des deux caniches blancs. Elle regarde avec plaisir et excitation, mais c’est tout. Juste à ce moment la jeune femme du prix de beauté approche pousse un cri de joie et se précipite vers la voiture. Les deux dames entrent dans leur auto et, en entrant, laissent tomber un petit paquet, mais toujours elles sont en possession de la photo et elles partent précipitamment.

  Le surlendemain la première blanchisseuse est encore dans sa rue avec son paquet de linge et elle voit la jeune femme du prix de beauté approcher avec un petit paquet à la main. Et en même temps elle voit le jeune homme. Ils sont tous les trois alors ensemble et tout à coup elle passe, l’auto, avec les deux dames et il y a avec elles un vrai caniche blanc et dans la bouche du caniche est un petit paquet. Les trois sur le trottoir le regarde passer et n’y comprennent rien.

  Revue Européene 5–7 (May–July 1930): 600–601; Operas And Plays (1932; repr., Barrytown, NY: Station Hill Press, 1987), 399–400

  Film

  Two Sisters Who Are Not Sisters

  Trans. Kathleen Douglas

  Around the corner from a boulevard outside of Paris a washerwoman of a certain age with a bundle of laundry that she is busy delivering pauses to pick up a photograph of two white poodles, at which she gazes intently. A two-seater automobile is parking at the curb. All of a sudden, two ladies get out of the car and rush over to the washerwoman and ask to see the photograph. She shows them and the two ladies are full of admiration for the photo until a young woman who is made up as though she has just won a prize in a beauty pageant and then got herself lost on the street, walks by, notices the empty car, scurries into it and begins to cry. At this moment, the two ladies get back into the car and throw the young woman out. She stumbles into the washerwoman, who begins questioning her, and the car is driven off by the two ladies, and suddenly the washerwoman realizes that her photo is missing. She spots a young man and immediately begins telling him what has happened.

  A few hours later, in front of an employment agency on rue du Dragon, there is another, younger washerwoman with a bundle of laundry. The car belonging to the two ladies drives up, stops, and the two ladies get out and show the washerwoman the photo of the two white poodles. The washerwoman looks at it with pleasure and excitement, but that is all. At this very moment the beauty queen walks up, cries for joy and hurries over to the car. As the two ladies get back into their car they drop a parcel, but they still have the photo and they drive off quickly.

  Two days later, the first washerwoman is back on her street with a bundle of laundry and she notices the beauty queen walking up with a parcel in her hand. And at the same time she sees the young man. Then all three of them are together and suddenly the car drives by with the two ladies, and with them is a real live white poodle, and in the poodle’s mouth is a parcel. The washerwoman, the beauty queen and the young man watch the dog go by and they understand nothing.

  The Superstitions Of Fred Anneday, Annday, Anday

  A Novel Of Real Life

  (1934)

  A cuckoo bird is singing in a cuckoo tree, singing to me oh singing to me.

  It was many years before it happened that that song was written and sung but it did happen.

  A cuckoo bird did come and sit in a tree close by and sing, sing cuckoo to me.

  And this is the way it came to happen.

  As I say the song was written and sung many years before, before this happening.

  The song was written and sung in Italy.

  There Fred Annday was living in a villa in Fiesole. He had been born and raised in America had Fred Anday and there in America he had naturally never heard a cuckoo sing although he had heard a cuckoo clock sing.

  And when he first heard a cuckoo sing cuckoo, and that was in Germany he was convinced that it was a clock and not a bird and it took a great deal of argument to convince him that it really was a bird and that birds did sing cuckoo.

  Then a number of years afterwards in Italy and he was thinking then of one he loved and one who loved him and he did not see a cuckoo and perhaps he did not hear a cuckoo sing but he made the song, a cuckoo bird is sitting in a cuckoo tree singing to me oh singing to me.

  And then many years after in France he was thinking of how pleasant it is to be rich and he had as a matter of fact for him a fair amount of money in his pocket and all of a sudden he heard a cuckoo at a distance and he was pleased because he had money in his pocket and if you hear the first cuckoo of the season and there is money in your pocket it means that you will have money for all that year.

  And then the miracle happened. The cuckoo came and did what cuckoos never do and it came and sat in a tree right close to him and he could see it and it could see him and it gave a single loud cuckoo and flew away. And this was the beginning of something for him because from that time on he was successful and he believed in superstition yes he did.1

  Fred Anneday knew all that and he knew better than that. He knew something else about the cuckoo. The cuckoo is a bird who occupies other birds’ nests. Perhaps that is the reason he brings money and success. Because he certainly does.

  And Fred Anday knew that there was a monastery where there had been monks and the monks had been forced to leave and others who were not monks had taken their place and the neighborhood gathered around at night and made cuckoo noises around the place at night. Cuckoo they said and they meant that the cuckoo takes other birds’ nests and that is what these people had done. And so Fred Anneday’s life was based on superstition and he was right.

  What had Fred Anday done all his life.

  A novel is what you dream in your night sleep. A novel is not waking thoughts although it is written and thought with waking thoughts. But really a novel goes as dreams go in sleeping at night and some dreams are like anything and some dreams are like something and some dreams change and some dreams are quiet and some dreams are not. And some dreams are just what anyone would do only a little different always just a little different and that is what a novel is.

  And this is what a novel is.

  Fred Anneday all his life had loved not only one woman not only one thing not only managing everything, not only being troubled so that he could not sleep, not only his mother and religion, not only being the oldest and nevertheless always young enough, not only all this but all his life he had loved superstition and he was right.

  He had a great deal to do with everything. This was not only because he was one and the eldest of a very large family which he was but it was because he did have a great deal to do with anything.

  One of his friends was Brim Beauvais but he met him later later even than
when he loved the only woman whom he ever loved and who was larger and older. And he did not meet Brim Beauvais through her although he might have. It made him think of nightingales. Everything made him think of nightingales and express these thoughts.

  If any one is the youngest of seven children and likes it he does not care to hear about birth control because supposing he had not been. If one is the eldest of eight children and likes it he too does not care to hear about birth control but then any one knowing him would know what he would say if any one asked him.

  If anyone is an only child and likes it well then he is an only child and likes it as men or women, or as children. And they may or may not like birth control. There you are that is the answer and even superstition is not always necessary. But really it is. Of course really it is.

  Fred Anneday loved a woman and it made all the difference in his life not only that but that he continued to have a great deal to do with everything only it worried him less that is to say not at all and he slept well, that is after he had found that he loved this woman.

  Oh Fred Anneday how many things have happened, more than you can say. And Brim Beauvais how many things have happened to Brim Beauvais. Not so many although he thought as many did. And this goes to show how many have told how many so. And this was because Brim Beauvais did not have to count for superstition. Which is a mistake.

  Fred Annday was not tall he changed and his forehead was high. And he changed.

  Brim Beauvais was fat that is to say he grew fatter which was not fair as he had been very good looking when he was thin.

  Fred Anday loved one woman and she had had a strange thing happen. Not that he loved her for that but it was that which brought them together.