PARTISAN REVIEW
101
humble. He had a trick a lot of writers have, I think I have it my–
self,
of disappearing into the woodwork. The rest of the company
was acting agreeable; the rough-coated animal world. How inflections
do deceive. How much of what I say could be termed avoiding issues,
when it's capillary rage sieved off from a wound.
But momentarily I had distance. And the assemblage that night
seemed cheerful. Conversation flowed in little groups. A buff-colored
hurricane lamp had been brought in to light the table; and down
with writers' gloom. And more, to that whiff of rustic elegance, of
pewter bowls and Liberty Bell glass, to the unspoken and hibernate
calm - had been added the tranquilizing and invisible presence of
some offstage person or personages, the lurid angels of success boiling
up their magic potions. I don't mean on Broadway, or in Hollywood,
but in those far-fetched and philosophical caves of secret cause and
reason, where excitement and the ingredients of public taste are
savagely stirred and brewed, to whet the majority of emotions, and
in
what kitchens of the ordinary, that delicious
pot au feu;
and I
think
that was underneath it, the old conglomerates, and the sense
of evil power and the beauties of the system,along with a genuine
commonality of the artist's profession, and whatever it was, there
were continuous cordial outbursts, dredged-up prolific talk; and
the bubble and glow of corresponding interests.
Meanwhile, our prime Celebrity sat, eating his food in that
abject, gentleman's silence.
I don't know how the conversation started. A middle-aged
Yale poet I will call O'Leary, seated at the elbow of the Author,
was attempting a compliment. I half-listened and I didn't, such
things travel by osmosis. I knew the poet, who looked like a rosy–
cheeked country parson. His work was dour and trim. But that's
neither here nor there. In himself, he was unworldly, good-natured.
Mixed with others, he might become something else. But flattery, in
this
case, was not self-seeking. O'Leary was presuming to fill a gap,
bringing up an anecdote to show how famous, practical and witty
was the man at his side. The details had been picked up from some–
where, I didn't learn the source.
But it seemed that last month the Author, in deep freeze
in–
cognito, had visited a midwest college town. When stepping out of
\is
car, he had been instantly recognized by a young college girl.
