108
PARTISAN R.EVIEW
both look down: he wants to say sOl11ething to me, I want
to
say something
to
him .... H e once said, " It is nice th;1t yo u work and write poems, but los–
ing your nights, that's not heal thy." And I was upset: I can only wri te poems
wi th a hangover. ... 1 wrote, " I like Jews for their perversi ty is one of revol t,
crime and sin; ideali sm begins with the first uprising of the angels , human–
ity with the institution of hell, life with the l11urder of Cain, and poetry
wi th the discovery of Satan ." If my (Hher were to read this, he would praise
my work, but would cri ticize the ideas, and yet all of
III
y poetry of pleasure
rebels against work.
For eighteen years a terrible thought crept. When was it that I first took
notice of it? I suppose it was some years ago when I suddenly awoke in my
bed and squeezed my eyes shut in fi'ont of my father who had come to
wake me. He left immediately , and I suspected that he had found me out.
He began to watch me more carefu ll y since. Five years ago, I came home
drunk and threw up the wine. My father said sternly, "Th is I forbid you,
for it is not nice and it is harmful for you." Four years ago, in grammar
school, I lit a cigarette in the street. My (Hher, displeased, said "You smoke
and moreover you are spitefu l; and smoking is unhealthy, spite is a sign of
malice and stupidity." So again he spoiled my
fLII1.
Three years ago my
mother dismissed a maid on my account and my father did not speak
to
me
for a week. He saw me in the company of a coquette and pretended not to
see me. I did not want to see him. If he had said but one word of displea–
sure in the street, it would have been easier, I would have felt happier and
more relaxed. Gut his si lence spoi led the fun. At home he reprimanded me
very seriously and peacefully (wh il e I was sti ll trembling fi-oll1 her kisses):
"That is not a woman for you; she wi ll corrupt you." The latter offended
me. \)i sheartened, I turned away and thought: Why does he say anything
to
me when everything he says is a reaction to my nature, my ideals, my incli–
nations, and my nature is the opposition to all his advice, beliefs and wishes
.. .. One time I slapped a schoolmate who had spoken ill of a young lady_
My father kindly sa id (while my pall11 still itched):"lt is nice of you to
defend the honor of those who deserve it; but slapp ing someone is never
honorable, for it humiliates both the slapper and the slapped." And again I
turned away in anger, thinking: I defended a lady's honor only in order
to
slap the fellow, and in this too he has to spoi l my fun. Too often my fat her
went for walks with me and talked, but I walked and talked li stless ly; but I
had to conform to his will because he never said "you have
to."
And he
would speak so kindly that it was difficult for l11e to contradict; he stated hi s
beliefs so humbly that I could not dare to refute. Sometimes he would invite
me for a beer, but already after the third glass he would say "enough," while
I would have enjoyed on ly those that would follow. I drank the first few
on ly to please him, and would on ly end up displeased with him.
