The Red Badge of Courage and Selected Short Fiction.

by Stephen Crane.

INTRODUCTION.

STEPHEN CRANE SAID TO THE UNIVERSE.

I.

Sometimes, the most profound of awakenings come wrapped in the quietest of moments.

Early in April 1893, a struggling young writer embarked on a strange journey to tend to an uncomfortable task. He had been invited to an uptown party. He hoped to cultivate the patronage of its host, whose prominence in American letters was something he admired, envied, and feared. The young man's career thus far had been so unprofitable that it had brought him to the brink of starvation on several recent occasions. An endors.e.m.e.nt could reopen many of the doors to publishing venues that had been slammed in his face.

The aspirant was a curious man to look at. Although he was barely twenty-one years old, his face and body were already showing signs of wear and abuse. He stood at 5 feet 6 inches, average for a man of his day. A few years previously, during two unsuccessful semesters at two different colleges, he weighed in at a taut 125 pounds, muscular and agile enough to stand out on a college baseball team. By 1893, however, his strapped diet and unrestrained smoking had taken their toll on the body and abilities that had once attracted the serious notice of a professional baseball club. His complexion had turned sallow. His shoulders on his emaciated frame had begun to droop. Several friends detected an increasing dullness in his blue-gray eyes. Cigarettes and cigars had stained his fingers and teeth with nicotine. He coughed deeply and regularly from the habit. That, plus his poor diet would beset him with a variety of dental problems for the rest of his life. His custom of writing late into the night frequently created dark circles under his eyes during the following day. To those around him, he often looked ill.

Although he preferred a more bohemian lifestyle, especially in the clothes he wore, the young writer did try to spruce up his appearance for the party. These people inhabited a very different social circle than the one he was accustomed to. His usually disheveled hair had been hastily groomed. He did not own a suit suitable for the occasion, so he borrowed a friend's best outfit. It obviously did not fit him very well, which reinforced his uncomfortable thought that he would be very out of place at such a gathering. On a subconscious level, he feared that this opportunity fitted him as poorly as his suit did. He wanted to be a writer on his own terms; he should control his public persona, not tailor it to acquiesce to the refined expectations of a social circ.u.mstance. As much as he admired his host and needed his help, the young man had misgivings about how playing the patronage game might compromise his art.

The journey to his host's home on the south side of Central Park was a study of the contrast between the haves and the have-nots in turn-of-the-century New York City. His starting point was fraught with failure. Ever since he had moved to the city to pursue his chosen vocation, he had lived in a succession of cheap boarding houses on the East Side. Such environs had provided the backdrop for his early fiction. He particularly liked to disguise himself as a derelict in order to mingle with the denizens of the infamous Bowery district. He had recently finished Maggie: A Girl of the Streets, Maggie: A Girl of the Streets, a short novel about how poverty enslaves a woman to a prost.i.tute's life. When no publisher would touch it (one had called it too "cruel") , he sold his last bit of patrimony-some stock his late father had bequeathed to him-and used the money to have the story privately printed. In 1893 few people took note of a short novel about how poverty enslaves a woman to a prost.i.tute's life. When no publisher would touch it (one had called it too "cruel") , he sold his last bit of patrimony-some stock his late father had bequeathed to him-and used the money to have the story privately printed. In 1893 few people took note of Maggie. Maggie. Eventually, the young writer gave away a hundred copies and used the remainder as kindling. Friend and fellow writer Hamlin Garland brought the book to the host's notice. Thus, the aspirant's "calling card" had been presented. Eventually, the young writer gave away a hundred copies and used the remainder as kindling. Friend and fellow writer Hamlin Garland brought the book to the host's notice. Thus, the aspirant's "calling card" had been presented.

In contrast, at the other end of his journey on that April day, his destination was distinguished by success. The home of his host was not outlandishly opulent but tasteful and understatedly elegant, befitting his status as America's most influential man of letters. Unlike the squalor omnipresent on the East Side, this house had a pleasant panorama of a lake situated at the south entrance to Central Park. Every item modestly bespoke eminence and success. The host's novels attracted immediate interest and financial reward. Only a few years ago, he had published to much acclaim A Hazard of New Fortunes, A Hazard of New Fortunes, the most ambitious project of his career. His insights as a columnist in several stalwart literary magazines carried great weight in public opinion, which he used to promote his literary values and, with regal benevolence, to champion new writers who held similar beliefs. To the literati in America, he mattered. And the young writer wanted to matter too. the most ambitious project of his career. His insights as a columnist in several stalwart literary magazines carried great weight in public opinion, which he used to promote his literary values and, with regal benevolence, to champion new writers who held similar beliefs. To the literati in America, he mattered. And the young writer wanted to matter too.

A twentieth-century biographer unearthed an interview with a New York newspaper that detailed the host's appearance around that time. Although approximately the same height as the young writer, the host was more "stout, round, and contented looking," but this excess weight visually enhanced his aura of confidence, refinement, and sagac ity. His "iron-gray" hair and mustache were meticulously groomed. His pleasant voice hinted that he was "satisfied with his career and with the success he had made in life." The carefully tailored host greeting the awkwardly clad young guest would have made an interesting snapshot.

Despite the opportunity, despite the good wishes of his host, the young writer felt ill at ease for most of the dinner party. True, when a moment for a private conversation with his famous mentor arrived, it went well. The host later complimented the young man before his guests by p.r.o.nouncing that Maggie Maggie accomplished "things that [Mark Twain] can't." But keeping his manners and language in check before polite company greatly taxed the young man's composure. He would not feel relaxed until long after the party when he kibitzed at a back-room poker game among black New Yorkers later that night. accomplished "things that [Mark Twain] can't." But keeping his manners and language in check before polite company greatly taxed the young man's composure. He would not feel relaxed until long after the party when he kibitzed at a back-room poker game among black New Yorkers later that night.

During the course of this tedious rite of pa.s.sage in the career of a young writer, however, a wonderful event occurred in a casual moment. The host had fetched a volume of poetry. He wanted to read selections from it to his guests. The author of this book had been dead for seven years. During her life, only a few of her poems saw the light of print. Few of them had been published with her consent. After her death, her family recovered among her possessions one of the great treasures of American literature-more than 1,700 brilliant poems, a.s.sorted and neatly sewn into many small bundles. Her family decided to do something that the poet could never bring herself to do-publish them.

A first selection was issued in 1890; a second in 1891. In 1893, both series had been combined into one volume. One of the editors was the host's professional friend, Thomas Wentworth Higginson, who was himself well respected for his publishing endeavors and for his command of a black regiment during the Civil War. Thirty years previously, the poet had sent him four poems, and he had not been very encouraging then. He found them "spasmodic," "uncontrolled," and, at times, incomprehensible. Thus, his a.s.signment as her posthumous editor was not without the distaste of irony. Unable to fathom the true intent that underscored her genius, Higginson and his coeditor selected from among her safer poems for inclusion in the first volume. They manhandled many poems in their editing, replacing her idiosyncratic use of the dash with more conventional punctuation and ghost rewriting lines to create the traditional scansion and rhyme that a nineteenth-century audience expected. But despite all the ham-handedness of the editors, the publication of these poems propagated a revolution in American poetry.

The host had a pleasing voice and an ingratiating demeanor, which made him an excellent reciter. The poet had adapted the cadences of church hymns in her poetry, and so the host spoke at a rhythmic pace that his guests were very familiar with. With his devout Methodist upbringing, the young writer had heard such hymns all his life.

What poems were read that day are not known, but I think it likely that the host performed the first poem of the 1890 volume: Success is counted sweetest By those who ne'er succeed.

To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need.Not one of all the purple host Who took the flag to-day Can tell the definition, So clear, of victory,As he, defeated, dying, On whose forbidden ear The distant strains of triumph Break, agonized and clear.

The aspiring writer was astounded. He had just experienced a revela tory moment equivalent to John Keats's first reading of George Chapman's translations of the Homeric epics or Charles Baudelaire's walking into a salon and first seeing a painting by Eugene Delacroix. Both the English and the French poets did not abandon what they believed in order to embrace something new; instead, they found artistic works that crystallized their own conceptions of art. This first contact permitted them to a.n.a.lyze what they already practiced in their own poetry and to speculate why they did so. During the 1890s in America, most good writers found such a muse by encountering the work of an earlier artist. In Saint Louis, for example, another writer also struggling to find her place and voice, Kate Chopin, used the fiction of Guy de Maupa.s.sant for such a purpose.

The recitation had multiple effects upon the young writer. He em pathized with the pained failure described in the poem. More importantly, he saw aspects of his own emerging voice in the woman poet's surgical concision of language. In his recent novel about the "girl of the streets," for example, he had crafted intensely imagistic sentences: "The girl, Maggie, blossomed in a mud puddle." Inspired by the reading, the young writer soon began to compose poems of his own, rattling off a great many in a short s.p.a.ce of time: Black riders came from the sea.

There was clang and clang of spear and shield, And clash and clash of hoof and heel, Wild shouts and the wave of hair In the rush upon the wind: Thus the ride of sin.

Even in the heavily edited versions the host read that day, the young writer could hear the liberties the dead poet had taken with the hymnal form, and he would accelerate her a.s.sault against the conventions of poetry by abandoning rhyme and traditional cadences altogether. He called his efforts not poems but "lines." When he bragged that he usually had several poems configured in his mind ready to be put on paper, his friend Hamlin Garland challenged him to do so. The young writer immediately wrote out one without fumbling a word. His "lines" allowed him to distill his fatalistic notions, almost to the point of becoming epigrams regarding individual impotence: I saw a man pursuing the horizon; Round and round they sped.

I was disturbed at this; I accosted the man.

"It is futile," I said, "You can never-""You lie," he cried, And ran on.

The poems the host read that April day excited another level of response in the young writer. The woman poet had composed much of her work in an intense spurt of inspiration during the American Civil War; consequently, many of her poems were populated with images and metaphors of battle. In his desperation to earn money, the young writer had been researching and writing a new ma.n.u.script that he hoped might exploit the curiosity by the American public during the 1890s about the Civil War. He first considered turning the novel into a romantic "potboiler" so as to ensure its financial success. But the embattled insights into the human heart contained in the poems he heard that day and his own evolving artistic ambitions turned the project into something finer. The host did not realize it then, but he had given his young guest the necessary ammunition to rebel against the literary values he had championed for a lifetime.

The host was William Dean Howells, the nexus of American Realism; the poet, Emily d.i.c.kinson, the private genius of Amherst; the aspiring writer, Stephen Crane, the self-consuming literary meteor of the 1890s; and the novel, The Red Badge of Courage, The Red Badge of Courage, his most enduring and influential work. If you have made it thus far in this essay, I thank you for your patience and indulgence. In addition to recreating a brief but pregnant moment in Crane's emerging talent, I wanted to mimic (I hope not too poorly) his prose style and, in particular, one of his fictional devices. At a crucial stage in one of the drafts of his most enduring and influential work. If you have made it thus far in this essay, I thank you for your patience and indulgence. In addition to recreating a brief but pregnant moment in Crane's emerging talent, I wanted to mimic (I hope not too poorly) his prose style and, in particular, one of his fictional devices. At a crucial stage in one of the drafts of Red Badge, Red Badge, Crane went through his ma.n.u.script and greatly reduced the number of times he employed character names, instead replacing them with epithets such as "the youth"; "the tall soldier," who becomes "the spectral soldier"; and "the loud soldier," who becomes "the friend." Later, in a newspaper account, Crane faithfully reported all facts regarding his near-death experience at sea in 1897, but he subsequently avoided naming his characters in the fictional story he composed based on the incident-"The Open Boat." Instead of names, he chose to emphasize occupations and their symbolic a.s.sociations: "the captain," "the cook," "the oilman," and "the correspondent." (Only "Billy," the nickname of the oilman who was killed, was occasionally used in "The Open Boat.") Crane went through his ma.n.u.script and greatly reduced the number of times he employed character names, instead replacing them with epithets such as "the youth"; "the tall soldier," who becomes "the spectral soldier"; and "the loud soldier," who becomes "the friend." Later, in a newspaper account, Crane faithfully reported all facts regarding his near-death experience at sea in 1897, but he subsequently avoided naming his characters in the fictional story he composed based on the incident-"The Open Boat." Instead of names, he chose to emphasize occupations and their symbolic a.s.sociations: "the captain," "the cook," "the oilman," and "the correspondent." (Only "Billy," the nickname of the oilman who was killed, was occasionally used in "The Open Boat.") In these and in other stories, Crane emphasized the potential of all individual experiences to have universal implications. A "youth" struggling to find a physical, intellectual, and spiritual path through the horrors of war parallels the road every human must travel in coping with crisis. Four men in a flimsy boat on a storm-tossed ocean become metaphors for every individual scrambling to survive the whims of an uncaring universe. An aspiring writer first encountering the inspiring poetry of a misunderstood poet becomes the archetype for all artistic epiphanies.

Like most other consequential writers before him and since, young Stephen Crane was blessed with a good number of experiences and encounters that shaped and clarified his artistic path. While it is tempting for a modern reader to reduce these influences to just a manageable few, the truth of the matter is that the genius of Crane resides in his ability to blend so many different biographical experiences, philosophical and theological a.s.sumptions, previous and contemporary literary traditions and techniques, and political ideals in a deceptively simple prose style. In Red Badge, Red Badge, for instance, he has the wherewithal to juxtapose a stark account of a war incident drawn according to the precepts of Realism with a scene in which the protagonist, Henry Fleming, reverts to his animal instincts, as befits the tenets of literary Naturalism. Crane sews these two episodes with such a fine st.i.tch that readers seldom see the seams. The possibility that both disparate aesthetic perspectives can appear simultaneously valid in close textual proximity begins to reveal how complex Crane's vision of the human experience was. Everything Crane was, everything he believed, every meaningful book that he read, every indelible memory from his life, every interesting idea he had ever heard went into the construction of the novel. In the rest of this introduction, I will touch upon a number of these shaping encounters, focusing especially upon those that manifested themselves in both open and disguised ways in for instance, he has the wherewithal to juxtapose a stark account of a war incident drawn according to the precepts of Realism with a scene in which the protagonist, Henry Fleming, reverts to his animal instincts, as befits the tenets of literary Naturalism. Crane sews these two episodes with such a fine st.i.tch that readers seldom see the seams. The possibility that both disparate aesthetic perspectives can appear simultaneously valid in close textual proximity begins to reveal how complex Crane's vision of the human experience was. Everything Crane was, everything he believed, every meaningful book that he read, every indelible memory from his life, every interesting idea he had ever heard went into the construction of the novel. In the rest of this introduction, I will touch upon a number of these shaping encounters, focusing especially upon those that manifested themselves in both open and disguised ways in Red Badge, Red Badge, taking great advantage in the process of insights by the many astute academic critics Crane's work has attracted during the past eighty years. taking great advantage in the process of insights by the many astute academic critics Crane's work has attracted during the past eighty years.

II.

As one might suspect, Stephen Crane's family and childhood appear in Red Badge Red Badge in covert and private ways. He was born in a parsonage in Newark, New Jersey, on November 1, 1871. He was his forty-five-year-old mother's fourteenth child, but none of her previous four babies had survived beyond their first year. Thus, among the Crane children who survived to adulthood, Stephen became the most indulged, a circ.u.mstance encouraged by the age gap between him and his nearest older sibling. in covert and private ways. He was born in a parsonage in Newark, New Jersey, on November 1, 1871. He was his forty-five-year-old mother's fourteenth child, but none of her previous four babies had survived beyond their first year. Thus, among the Crane children who survived to adulthood, Stephen became the most indulged, a circ.u.mstance encouraged by the age gap between him and his nearest older sibling.

His father, the Reverend Jonathan Townley Crane, named his child after the first Crane to migrate to North America during the seventeenth century and also after a prominent New Jersey ancestor who had been active during the Revolutionary War. (Dr. Crane erroneously thought that the latter had signed the Declaration of Independence.) As biographer Edwin Cady has pointed out, young Stephen grew up as a "preacher's kid," a label that immediately defined his relationship with his schoolhouse peers and that definitely set up his subsequent rebellion against religious dogma. At the time of his son's birth, Dr. Crane served as the presiding elder for a group of Methodist churches in and surrounding Newark. Wanting to preach more, he gave up his adrninis trative duties and moved his family to his new clerical position in Paterson, New Jersey, by 1876. When a dispute arose over his salary, he accepted another post in Port Jervis, New York, in 1878.

When Stephen was barely eight, his father died unexpectedly from heart complications arising from a viral attack. Stephen's most vivid memories of his father were likely of him at work in his profession, sermonizing before his flock. As a young man, Dr. Crane had embraced Methodism, in part as a rebellion against his own Presbyterian heritage. He had been studying for the Presbyterian ministry at the College of New Jersey (now Princeton University) when he began to question that faith's more strident doctrines, especially the notion of infant d.a.m.nation, the belief that children who died unbaptized would be consigned to the fires of h.e.l.l. While concepts such as d.a.m.nation figured prominently in his sermons, Dr. Crane believed that G.o.d tempered His wrath with mercy and divinely discriminating judgment. He converted to Methodism because he saw it as a way to preach a more hopeful and nurturing view of G.o.d and salvation. At weekly prayer meetings his son undoubtedly heard his father stress his faith in a merciful G.o.d, one who lovingly embraced all. d.a.m.nation remained an omnipresent possibility, but Dr. Crane's G.o.d was more interested in saving than in condemning.

Stephen's mother came from a different religious tradition. Mary Helen Peck Crane was a woman capable of great kindnesses, such as the time she cared for an unwed mother despite the open misgivings of her neighbors. Nevertheless, she piously spouted the caustic Methodism long advocated by her family. The Pecks, according to Stephen Crane, produced Methodist clergymen "of the ambling-nag, saddle bag, exhorting kind." She pa.s.sionately focused upon G.o.d's function as avenger of sins committed against His name. As an adult, Stephen fondly remembered his mother's intelligence, but he often winced at the memory of her religious fervor. Given the obvious difference between the conceptions of husband and wife, Sunday suppers in the Crane household must have produced interesting and, for young Stephen, confusing debates at the table.

These competing views of G.o.d appear throughout Crane's literary efforts, often at allegorical levels in his fiction but at more conspicuous ones in his poetry: The livid lightnings flashed in the clouds; The leaden thunders crashed.

A worshipper raised his arm.

"Hearken! Hearken! The voice of G.o.d!""Not so," said a man.

"The voice of G.o.d whispers in the heart So softly That the soul pauses, Making no noise, And strives for these melodies, Distant, sighing, like faintest breath, And all the being is still to hear."

I find it interesting that here Crane placed his father's gentle perspective at the dominant position by having it respond to his mother's "brimstone." In chapter XI of Red Badge, Red Badge, Henry Fleming fears derision by the rest of his regiment for his desertion in a manner that resembles how one may fear G.o.d's punishment for sin. Later, in chapter XIII, however, Fleming receives the tender ministrations of two comrades who tend to his wound. If his desertion represents a military sin, then Wilson's actions suggest symbolic forgiveness by a G.o.d who provides for atonement. Henry Fleming fears derision by the rest of his regiment for his desertion in a manner that resembles how one may fear G.o.d's punishment for sin. Later, in chapter XIII, however, Fleming receives the tender ministrations of two comrades who tend to his wound. If his desertion represents a military sin, then Wilson's actions suggest symbolic forgiveness by a G.o.d who provides for atonement.

The complex dimensions of Crane's own religious beliefs ultimately had not two but three axes. By the time he was thirteen, Stephen began to rebel against his parents' values. The precipitating causes may have been the family dejection brought on by the death of his favorite sister, Agnes Elizabeth, in 1884 and the influence of his brother Will, who, like several of the older brothers, had functioned as a surrogate father figure for the boy since Dr. Crane's death. Will had himself experienced a rebellion, which was more a rejection of his parents' dogmatism than an embracing of any other creed in its place. Stephen's rebellion would need eight more years of intense reading and contemplation before he could articulate his personal philosophical position. Ultimately, he took the personality, the intentions, and even the presence of G.o.d out of the human equation. The principles of social Darwinism and of literary Naturalism (treated in the next section of this essay) suggested that man navigated his existence through a universe ruled by chance. Neither an avenging nor a nurturing deity intervened in daily human affairs. Man's ego is met only with nature's indifference, which Crane encapsulates in a brilliant poem: A man said to the universe: "Sir, I exist!"

"However," replied the universe, "The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation."

This is the view that dominates Crane's oeuvre. In Red Badge, Red Badge, a defiant Henry Fleming valiantly and futilely struggles to a.s.sert his presence before an indifferent universe. In "The Open Boat," the heroic response of four men to their plight means nothing to nature, as represented by the billowing waves of the sea. The shipwrecked must carefully steer their dinghy into each ominous wave to avoid capsizing; their only reward for surviving one threat is another huge swell right behind it. For Crane, existence demanded the riding out of many such waves that threaten to annihilate us. In the final a.n.a.lysis, the only being who cares for an individual's life is the individual himself. In chapter XXIV of a defiant Henry Fleming valiantly and futilely struggles to a.s.sert his presence before an indifferent universe. In "The Open Boat," the heroic response of four men to their plight means nothing to nature, as represented by the billowing waves of the sea. The shipwrecked must carefully steer their dinghy into each ominous wave to avoid capsizing; their only reward for surviving one threat is another huge swell right behind it. For Crane, existence demanded the riding out of many such waves that threaten to annihilate us. In the final a.n.a.lysis, the only being who cares for an individual's life is the individual himself. In chapter XXIV of Red Badge, Red Badge, Fleming's summary self-a.s.sessment cannot redirect civilized destiny. He cannot even communicate it to Wilson, his "friend." It must remain private because all personal epiphanies are inexorably ineffable. Ironically, Fleming and his fellow soldiers cannot discuss among themselves their shared awakening to the realities of war. Thus, Crane attests to the isolation that each man, by his very nature, must endure. Just as Crane felt alone living amid millions of inhabitants of New York City during the 1890s, so too would Fleming dwell upon his spiritual solitude amid the 200,000 Union and Confederate soldiers who fought in the Battle of Chancellorsville. Fleming's summary self-a.s.sessment cannot redirect civilized destiny. He cannot even communicate it to Wilson, his "friend." It must remain private because all personal epiphanies are inexorably ineffable. Ironically, Fleming and his fellow soldiers cannot discuss among themselves their shared awakening to the realities of war. Thus, Crane attests to the isolation that each man, by his very nature, must endure. Just as Crane felt alone living amid millions of inhabitants of New York City during the 1890s, so too would Fleming dwell upon his spiritual solitude amid the 200,000 Union and Confederate soldiers who fought in the Battle of Chancellorsville.

By age twenty, Crane's rebellion against his family's values would manifest itself in a variety of large and small ways. His father had composed religious tracts and had given sermons that advocated abstinence. By the time he was fifteen, Stephen smoked regularly, and he would soon drink excessively. Dr. Crane believed that games like baseball distracted an individual from developing a religious life. During 1891 Stephen became a star shortstop in a brief stint with the Syracuse University baseball team. Only his desire to concentrate on his writing prevented him from accepting an offer to join a professional baseball team. His father abhorred novels; more than anything else, his son wanted to be a great novelist. Eventually settling in Asbury Park, New Jersey, after her husband's death Mary Crane began to fret over the bohemian manner of her son's behavior and dress throughout his teens. She recognized his extraordinary intelligence but worried that his lack of self-discipline would channel his energies in a wrong direction. She disapproved of his youthful desire to be a writer.

In 1888 she dispatched Stephen to a military boarding school in order to curb these tendencies, but she may have had another reason. Shortly after the death of her daughter Agnes Elizabeth, Mary Crane suffered a "temporary aberration of mind." The daily tension caused by her "critical condition," as it was called in one newspaper, likely strained young Stephen's still underdeveloped ability to cope. Consequently, he was sent first to Pennington Seminary in New Jersey (where his father once served as princ.i.p.al), which quickly proved to be ineffective, and then to the Hudson River Inst.i.tute in Claverack, New York. Crane later remembered his days at the military school with fondness, even though he seemed to learn more through his own readings than through the curriculum itself: In the manner of the "blue demonstration" that Fleming complained about in Red Badge, Red Badge, Crane marched in military drills well enough to earn first a lieu-tenancy of a squad and later a student captaincy, but Claverack no longer maintained discipline to a degree that benefited its incorrigible students. At least Crane learned to play whist, a card game that he subsequently used to end an important chapter in his Civil War novel. Crane marched in military drills well enough to earn first a lieu-tenancy of a squad and later a student captaincy, but Claverack no longer maintained discipline to a degree that benefited its incorrigible students. At least Crane learned to play whist, a card game that he subsequently used to end an important chapter in his Civil War novel.

After departing Claverack, Crane spent one unsuccessful academic year at two colleges. In autumn 1890 he enrolled as a mining engineering student (obviously a concession to his mother's practicality) at Lafayette College on the eastern border of Pennsylvania. He played intramural baseball but could not make the varsity team. He joined a fraternity but then jeopardized his relationship with his frat brothers by brandishing a loaded revolver when they tried to haze him. He ab sented himself from cla.s.s so often that three of his teachers did not report a grade for him in December. As one might expect, one of these three cla.s.ses was on the Bible. Crane could quote many pa.s.sages from scripture with accuracy, but he was too immersed in his own secular rebellion to revisit his religious past. By Christmas, Lafayette's administration advised Crane not to return for the spring semester. He therefore transferred to Syracuse University at the beginning of 1891. His acceptance was likely facilitated by the circ.u.mstance that his mother's uncle, the Reverend Jesse Peck, had founded the inst.i.tution. Crane did make the varsity baseball team this time and became a very capable shortstop, but his performance in cla.s.s proved to be even more lackl.u.s.ter than it had been at Lafayette. By the end of the semester, he pa.s.sed only one course-he earned an A in English literature. Thus ended Stephen Crane's formal education.

He did learn much, however, during his one year in college. Taking advantage of both college libraries as well as the books owned by his fraternity, Delta Upsilon, he read eclectically but voraciously on his own, studying the works of writers such as Leo Tolstoy, Robert Louis Stevenson, Henry James, Edgar Allan Poe, and Rudyard Kipling. He worked as a stringer for the New York Tribune, Tribune, contributing news items about the city of Syracuse and about the college itself Several Crane scholars believe that after reporting about the poor in Syracuse, Crane probably composed the first draft of the story that painfully and eventually evolved into contributing news items about the city of Syracuse and about the college itself Several Crane scholars believe that after reporting about the poor in Syracuse, Crane probably composed the first draft of the story that painfully and eventually evolved into Maggie: A Girl of the Streets Maggie: A Girl of the Streets (1893). This early draft was doubtlessly plagued by a lack of sufficient convincing detail about the reality of poverty in America, so Crane returned to Asbury Park in 1891 in order to study firsthand tenement life in neighboring New York City. (1893). This early draft was doubtlessly plagued by a lack of sufficient convincing detail about the reality of poverty in America, so Crane returned to Asbury Park in 1891 in order to study firsthand tenement life in neighboring New York City.

For the next three years, while living in New Jersey and then in New York City itself, Crane pursued the strange existence of a writer trying to hone his talent amid squalor and a depressing lack of opportunities and encouragement. In the city, he occupied a succession of cheap quarters, sharing them with medical students, artists, and other aspirants at the impoverished end of ambitious careers. When his funds ran out, which happened often, he temporarily lived with and borrowed money from his older brothers. During this period, his ambivalent feelings about his mother intensified when she died in December 1891. Thus the anxious young man who visited W. D. Howells in April 1893 brought with him to the party all the confusion and hardship of his own frustrations as well as that of the Bowery in which he had immersed himself III.

What still fascinates is how, amid such conditions, Crane was able to informally pursue his aesthetic education and produce a novel that is one of the better summations of American sensibilities in the 1890s. His mind was, in effect, a sponge, capable of absorbing the principles of past and current literary traditions, the insights of the leading writers of the day, the beliefs held by competing philosophical schools, the dogmas held by diverse Christian sects, and the trends of political and economic thought. His artistic genius resided in his ability to knit many dissimilar and, at times, conflicting perspectives so thoroughly in a text that we pay more attention to their similarities than their differences. He paints a grim but objective portrait of war's horror in one pa.s.sage in Red Badge, Red Badge, yet when we turn the page we find ourselves immersed in Fleming's subjective reflection about that event. yet when we turn the page we find ourselves immersed in Fleming's subjective reflection about that event.

Many critics have debated over the years whether Crane was essentially a Realist, a Naturalist, or an Impressionist. I and many others contend that he was all those things and much more. For Crane, the scene or the moment dictates the artistic device the writer should employ. Novels such as Red Badge, Red Badge, then, become compendia of many aesthetic possibilities. In a Crane text, this oscillation among so many ways of looking at the world reflects what all humans must contend with in life. The religious, political, philosophical, or artistic belief that seems best to explain one moment may prove inadequate for the next. Crane's novel about the Civil War offers a chain of partially successful attempts by Henry Fleming to comprehend his environment and purpose. then, become compendia of many aesthetic possibilities. In a Crane text, this oscillation among so many ways of looking at the world reflects what all humans must contend with in life. The religious, political, philosophical, or artistic belief that seems best to explain one moment may prove inadequate for the next. Crane's novel about the Civil War offers a chain of partially successful attempts by Henry Fleming to comprehend his environment and purpose. The Red Badge of Courage The Red Badge of Courage thus not only chronicles Crane's own restless mind; it also embodies the multifaceted dilemmas with which all intellects curious about man's relationship with the universe must cope. thus not only chronicles Crane's own restless mind; it also embodies the multifaceted dilemmas with which all intellects curious about man's relationship with the universe must cope.

The dominant literary figures in the United States after the Civil War were the Realists. By the 1890s, Realism's most accomplished pract.i.tioners included Mark Twain and Henry James, but William Dean Howells had become the artistic director of the school. Through his magazine columns (the most prominent was "The Editor's Study" in Harper's Monthly), Harper's Monthly), through the example he set in his novels and short stories, and through the new writers whose work he promoted, Howells established a good number of artistic principles for the postbellum generation of American fictionalists. Above all other considerations, he stressed that writers ought to write about subjects, people, and environments with which they were wholly familiar. Realists should not impose their personal biases or philosophical, political, and ethical predispositions on the voice of a text's third-person narrator. The world should be described as if one were looking through a camera lens. The Realist should avoid presenting portraits of people who reside at the extreme ends of the human condition; those who occupy the center of American society are fitter subjects for literary art. Thus, the goal of the writer is to capture with fidelity that which typifies a society. through the example he set in his novels and short stories, and through the new writers whose work he promoted, Howells established a good number of artistic principles for the postbellum generation of American fictionalists. Above all other considerations, he stressed that writers ought to write about subjects, people, and environments with which they were wholly familiar. Realists should not impose their personal biases or philosophical, political, and ethical predispositions on the voice of a text's third-person narrator. The world should be described as if one were looking through a camera lens. The Realist should avoid presenting portraits of people who reside at the extreme ends of the human condition; those who occupy the center of American society are fitter subjects for literary art. Thus, the goal of the writer is to capture with fidelity that which typifies a society.

These and other like precepts pervaded the literary scene that Crane encountered in New York during the early 1890s. They became salient and valuable for him after he heard Hamlin Garland lecture about Howells's work and influence in Avon, New Jersey, in 1891. Crane published a newspaper piece about the talk, which attracted Garland's notice. At that time, Garland, ten years Crane's senior, was himself an emerging Realist of the local-color school. Many American local colorists, who had their aesthetic origins in Ivan Turgenev's seminal short-story collection Sportsman's Notebook, Sportsman's Notebook, published realistic fiction based upon their regional experiences, chronicling the lives and manners of the people they grew up with or lived among for a long time. Adherents to this approach included Sarah Orne Jewett, Mary Wilkins Freeman, Rose Terry Cooke, Bret Harte, and George Washington Cable. During the summer of 1891, Garland himself contributed to this collective effort to portray America region by region through publishing published realistic fiction based upon their regional experiences, chronicling the lives and manners of the people they grew up with or lived among for a long time. Adherents to this approach included Sarah Orne Jewett, Mary Wilkins Freeman, Rose Terry Cooke, Bret Harte, and George Washington Cable. During the summer of 1891, Garland himself contributed to this collective effort to portray America region by region through publishing Main-Travelled Roads, Main-Travelled Roads, a story collection based on his family's farming experiences in the Midwest. (Donna Campbell provides an excellent discussion of Crane's tenuous relationship with the local-color movement in her a story collection based on his family's farming experiences in the Midwest. (Donna Campbell provides an excellent discussion of Crane's tenuous relationship with the local-color movement in her Resisting Regionalism: Gender and Naturalism in American Fiction, Resisting Regionalism: Gender and Naturalism in American Fiction, 1885-1915; see "For Further Reading.") 1885-1915; see "For Further Reading.") When Crane began to gather materials for Red Badge Red Badge in 1893, most of his immediate resources had realistic a.s.sumptions underlying their intentions. Matthew Brady's photographs of the Civil War had recorded with graphic accuracy the ghastliness of battle. Nonfictional reminiscences and novels such as Wilbur F. Hinman's in 1893, most of his immediate resources had realistic a.s.sumptions underlying their intentions. Matthew Brady's photographs of the Civil War had recorded with graphic accuracy the ghastliness of battle. Nonfictional reminiscences and novels such as Wilbur F. Hinman's Corporal Si Klegg and His 'Pard', Corporal Si Klegg and His 'Pard', Joseph Kirkland's Joseph Kirkland's The Captain of Company The Captain of Company K, and the novel that some critics believe marks the incipient moment of American Realism, John William De Forest's K, and the novel that some critics believe marks the incipient moment of American Realism, John William De Forest's Miss Ravenel's Conversion from Succession to Loyalty, Miss Ravenel's Conversion from Succession to Loyalty, all share the desire to acquaint a civilian reader with the actualities of war and of military life. all share the desire to acquaint a civilian reader with the actualities of war and of military life.

Crane's most immediate source, however, owed its realistic intentions to another sort of discourse-history. In 1893 he borrowed from the mother of a former childhood playmate the multivolume work Battles and Leaders of the Civil War Battles and Leaders of the Civil War (1887), a compilation of a mammoth series of articles that had first appeared in (1887), a compilation of a mammoth series of articles that had first appeared in The Century The Century magazine years earlier. Here Crane found a rich vein of primary material, including essays by partic.i.p.ating Union and Confederate officers, such as Generals Darius N. Couch, Alfred Pleasonton, Oliver O. Howard, and R. E. Colston. With these accounts, Crane began to understand the facts, tactics, and strategies of the Battle of Chancellorsville that he would integrate into his story. Despite the occasional note of nostalgia or bravado, despite the defensive tone adopted by a general in explaining the misdeeds of his troops, these historical sources on the whole do comply with the empirical spirit pursued by a new generation of nineteenth-century historians. These writers presented firsthand testimony when available and a.s.sembled all known facts in their correct chronological sequence in order to ill.u.s.trate an historical event as accurately as the evidence allows. magazine years earlier. Here Crane found a rich vein of primary material, including essays by partic.i.p.ating Union and Confederate officers, such as Generals Darius N. Couch, Alfred Pleasonton, Oliver O. Howard, and R. E. Colston. With these accounts, Crane began to understand the facts, tactics, and strategies of the Battle of Chancellorsville that he would integrate into his story. Despite the occasional note of nostalgia or bravado, despite the defensive tone adopted by a general in explaining the misdeeds of his troops, these historical sources on the whole do comply with the empirical spirit pursued by a new generation of nineteenth-century historians. These writers presented firsthand testimony when available and a.s.sembled all known facts in their correct chronological sequence in order to ill.u.s.trate an historical event as accurately as the evidence allows.

For all his research in these and other historical texts, however, Crane could not compensate for his one obvious deficiency, one that challenged any claim he might make to call himself a Realist. Realists were supposed to confine their efforts to subjects they knew well and had experienced intimately. Born six years after the Civil War ended, Crane had never even seen a battle before he finished the ma.n.u.script for Red Badge. Red Badge. His mentor Howells would later chide him about this predicament, telling him that His mentor Howells would later chide him about this predicament, telling him that Maggie Maggie was more artistically successful because he based it upon what he had lived and observed directly, unlike was more artistically successful because he based it upon what he had lived and observed directly, unlike Red Badge, Red Badge, which was constructed from the observations of others and Crane's own guesses. How ironic it was, after the latter novel was published, that the reading public hailed Crane as the nascent star of American Realism. which was constructed from the observations of others and Crane's own guesses. How ironic it was, after the latter novel was published, that the reading public hailed Crane as the nascent star of American Realism.

Nevertheless, many Civil War veterans attested to the validity of Henry Fleming's experiences in and reactions to combat. However, influenced by recent Russian literature, especially the works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky, American Realism was evolving. Crane had tapped into its new wellspring-a shift in emphasis from reporting physical truth to constructing narratives that explored psychological truth. Howells's colleague Henry James had already migrated toward this new direction, which manifested itself in subtler and more complex characterizations in each successive novel he undertook. Crane's immediate inspiration may have been iconoclastic writer and newspaperman Ambrose Bierce. Using his experiences as an officer in the Union army, Bierce published a dramatic series of Civil War horror tales in a San Francisco newspaper during the 1880s and 1890s. When he collected them in book form in 1891, he also included a number of stories about violent occurrences in civilian life and t.i.tled the volume Tales of Soldiers and Civilians. Tales of Soldiers and Civilians. Bierce's premise was simple. By juxtaposing the atrocities of human experience in both war and peace, he shocked one generation out of its mistaken nostalgia about the war and another younger generation into realizing what war demands from the individual soul. If anyone wanted to comprehend the psychological essence of war, all he had to do was to observe and absorb the horror omnipresent in everyday life and then to project that vision onto a battle situation. Bierce's premise was simple. By juxtaposing the atrocities of human experience in both war and peace, he shocked one generation out of its mistaken nostalgia about the war and another younger generation into realizing what war demands from the individual soul. If anyone wanted to comprehend the psychological essence of war, all he had to do was to observe and absorb the horror omnipresent in everyday life and then to project that vision onto a battle situation.

Crane took this lesson to heart. In an extraordinary way, Red Badge Red Badge can be seen as an amalgam of his experiences in the slums of New York from 1891 to 1894. For instance, he would disguise himself as a derelict and stand in lines for bread or for a room for the night. These events show up directly in stories like "Men in the Storm," in which freezing men cannot understand why the managers of a flophouse make them wait as a snowstorm brews. In Red can be seen as an amalgam of his experiences in the slums of New York from 1891 to 1894. For instance, he would disguise himself as a derelict and stand in lines for bread or for a room for the night. These events show up directly in stories like "Men in the Storm," in which freezing men cannot understand why the managers of a flophouse make them wait as a snowstorm brews. In Red Badge, Badge, Crane transforms such psychological reactions and makes them the typical responses of Union privates who cannot comprehend the intentions of their generals. Likewise, Crane renders the conflicts over turf he saw waged in the Bowery into Henry Fleming's blood fever when his territorial instincts are aroused. The East Side of New York presented the young writer with a spectacle of the best and worst of human behavior. Crane transforms such psychological reactions and makes them the typical responses of Union privates who cannot comprehend the intentions of their generals. Likewise, Crane renders the conflicts over turf he saw waged in the Bowery into Henry Fleming's blood fever when his territorial instincts are aroused. The East Side of New York presented the young writer with a spectacle of the best and worst of human behavior.

The ultimate greatness of Red Badge Red Badge may be not only that it tells a basic truth about war; it simultaneously distills the essence of a human will responding to any sort of crisis. In doing so, Crane creates an atmosphere of war with which an audience could readily connect, more so than they could with a text produced by a combat veteran. That veteran often had a subconscious misgiving that only soldiers who had experienced war could truly appreciate his account. With the swaggering confidence of a young writer, Crane made no such a.s.sumptions and instead trusted that pain and horror were universal enough so that all civilians could empathize with the plight of the soldier. may be not only that it tells a basic truth about war; it simultaneously distills the essence of a human will responding to any sort of crisis. In doing so, Crane creates an atmosphere of war with which an audience could readily connect, more so than they could with a text produced by a combat veteran. That veteran often had a subconscious misgiving that only soldiers who had experienced war could truly appreciate his account. With the swaggering confidence of a young writer, Crane made no such a.s.sumptions and instead trusted that pain and horror were universal enough so that all civilians could empathize with the plight of the soldier.

One other tactic existed in the game plan of an American Realist. As all good literary traditions had done before it, Realism rebelled against the aesthetic values of its predecessor-in this case, Romanticism. Popularized by writers such as James Fenimore Cooper, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Walt Whitman from the 1820s to the beginning of 1861, Romanticism and its beliefs, especially its pursuit for and contemplation of the ideal, had been se verely tested by the savage realities of four b.l.o.o.d.y years of civil war. One postbellum consequence of this new national literary sensibility was that in their novels Realists often lampooned Romantic values. Oftentimes, the Realist would create an idealistic character with lofty beliefs and ambitions just so that the everyday realities of life could defeat him.

Like his Realist mentors, Crane challenged in his novel the Romantics' a.s.sumptions about war. Before his first taste of enemy gunfire, Fleming envisions war in terms of heroic struggles. Individual effort will be acknowledged and glorified in epic grandeur. The youth sees himself as a modern-day Achilles, perhaps destined to die but only after earning the accolades of his grateful comrades and cherished me morializing by his home town. Fleming soon finds out that war is a "blood-swollen G.o.d" who gobbles down human flesh, that individuals lose their ident.i.ties in the great "blue demonstration," from endless drilling to the maneuvering of hapless men toward what to them seem to be meaningless battles.

Just as he could not free himself completely from the dogmatic aspect of his mother's religion, however, Crane likewise had difficulty in rejecting all dimensions of a Romantic sensibility. Long before the age of Sigmund Freud, British and American Romantics had explored (in a nonscientific way) the psychological basis of human behavior. Above all else, they valued the human mind and the individual it defined. The self became inviolable. For all of the onslaught by war, society, and fate upon his well-being, Fleming, during each reevaluation of his place, never surrenders his ego to the indifference of the universe, even at the end of the narrative: With this conviction came a store of a.s.surance. He felt a quiet manhood, nona.s.sertive but of st.u.r.dy and strong blood. He knew that he would no more quail before his guides wherever they should point. He had been to touch the great death, and found that, after all, it was but the great death. He was a man (p. 130).

I suspect that one reason Howells disapproved of Red Badge Red Badge was that by the novel's end, all Henry Fleming had accomplished was to replace one set of antiquated Romantic values with another, more useful, conception that was still Romantic in character. Ironically, in "The Veteran," the short sequel Crane composed a year after the publication of was that by the novel's end, all Henry Fleming had accomplished was to replace one set of antiquated Romantic values with another, more useful, conception that was still Romantic in character. Ironically, in "The Veteran," the short sequel Crane composed a year after the publication of Red Badge, Red Badge, Fleming, now an old man, dies the sort of hero's death he had Romantically imagined and then abandoned as a youthful private. Fleming, now an old man, dies the sort of hero's death he had Romantically imagined and then abandoned as a youthful private.

Crane was probably more comfortable in employing devices from Romanticism's literary cousin-Gothicism. Its chief antebellum pract.i.tioner in America was Edgar Allan Poe, whose tales Crane had studied intently in his fraternity library. The 1880s and 1890s proved to be a neo-Gothic era in literature, as evidenced by the publication of works such as Robert Louis Stevenson's The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Bram Stoker's Bram Stoker's Dracula, Dracula, Oscar Wilde's Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Picture of Dorian Gray, Arthur Conan Doyle's Arthur Conan Doyle's The Hound of the Baskervilles, The Hound of the Baskervilles, and H. G. Wells's and H. G. Wells's The War of the Worlds. The War of the Worlds. American Realists of the period such as Bierce stripped Gothicism of its supernatural components and began to incorporate its other devices to depict the horror in everyday life. Ann Radcliffe, author of American Realists of the period such as Bierce stripped Gothicism of its supernatural components and began to incorporate its other devices to depict the horror in everyday life. Ann Radcliffe, author of The Mysteries of Udolpho The Mysteries of Udolpho (1794), had suggested that there were two competing impulses in Gothicism: (1) Relying upon the literary device "suspense," (1794), had suggested that there were two competing impulses in Gothicism: (1) Relying upon the literary device "suspense," terror terror aroused the intellect to a new level of awareness through dread. (2) Its opposite, aroused the intellect to a new level of awareness through dread. (2) Its opposite, horror, horror, tried to annihilate thought by confronting the intellect with a mult.i.tude of terrible events in rapid succession. tried to annihilate thought by confronting the intellect with a mult.i.tude of terrible events in rapid succession. Red Badge Red Badge fuses the two impulses. After standing his ground during the first skirmish, Fleming reacts with blind horror to the second Rebel a.s.sault, abandoning his position, his rifle, his comrades, and all of his Romantic preconceptions about war. Ultimately, however, terror does make its presence felt. Fleming dreads what his comrades might say when he returns to the regiment in chapter XIII. He remains in continual suspense about inevitable future battles, about how he will react to the next hostile encounter, and about what his place should be in such a threatening and uncaring environment. Crane combined these defining moments of horror and terror to ill.u.s.trate the violent perceptual oscillations every soldier must cope with when he is first exposed to enemy fire. fuses the two impulses. After standing his ground during the first skirmish, Fleming reacts with blind horror to the second Rebel a.s.sault, abandoning his position, his rifle, his comrades, and all of his Romantic preconceptions about war. Ultimately, however, terror does make its presence felt. Fleming dreads what his comrades might say when he returns to the regiment in chapter XIII. He remains in continual suspense about inevitable future battles, about how he will react to the next hostile encounter, and about what his place should be in such a threatening and uncaring environment. Crane combined these defining moments of horror and terror to ill.u.s.trate the violent perceptual oscillations every soldier must cope with when he is first exposed to enemy fire.

Crane departed from pristine Realist conceptions not only by retreating to past traditions like Gothicism and Romanticism; he also integrated new ideas from emerging artistic schools, which during the 1890s were beginning to question the primacy of Realism in American letters. The strongest challenger was literary Naturalism. With philosophical a.s.sumptions arising from and encouraged by the biological theories of Charles Darwin, the political theories of Karl Marx, and, at a later time, the social theories of Herbert Spencer, Naturalism as a literary choice was first embraced by French writers during the latter half of the nineteenth century. Foremost among these was emile Zola, whose novel about a Parisian prost.i.tute, Nana (1880), likely inspired Crane to begin his American counterpart, Maggie:A Girl of the Streets. Maggie:A Girl of the Streets. As a force, Naturalism did not reach American sh.o.r.es until a new generation of writers, eager to rebel against established literary values, burst upon the scene at the turn of the century-Frank Norris, Theodore Dreiser, Kate Chopin, and Jack London. As a force, Naturalism did not reach American sh.o.r.es until a new generation of writers, eager to rebel against established literary values, burst upon the scene at the turn of the century-Frank Norris, Theodore Dreiser, Kate Chopin, and Jack London.

Naturalism is similar to Realism in its striving for objectivity in narration, yet it differs from its predecessor in its philosophical a.s.sumptions. Among other principles, it interpreted man's lot determin istically Basically, it advocated that the individual is not in control of the forces that influence his or her behavior. These forces had two sources: one internal, the other external. At one extreme, millions of years of evolution have imprinted instincts in humans that manipulate our conduct. We share these subconscious desires with lower-cla.s.s mammals-s.e.xual urges, territorial impulses, the instinct to survive, etc. For example, when in chapter VII Fleming observes a squirrel flee when threatened, he equates this instinctual response with his own recent desertion under fire. For that one textual moment, nature provides him with a tentative explanation for his behavior, an example that seemingly relieves him of any responsibility.

At the other extreme, Naturalism also postulates that outside forces simultaneously govern human actions. In the great scheme of cosmic design, man becomes an isolated figure, hugely dwarfed by the environmental forces that surround him. He must travel along with society as it inexorably hurtles along a random path through time, or else he must be crushed by it.The "blue demonstration," whose metaphorical consequences change throughout the novel, limits Fleming's options time and again. For instance, after finally taking a Confederate position at an appalling human cost for both sides, Fleming's regiment is forced to abandon its hard-won gain. During the course of the final battle, the soldiers learn that their charge was just a diversion; elsewhere, the main body of Union forces had failed in its mission. When computed as part of the combined efforts of the entire Army of the Potomac, the achievements of the 304th New York and of Fleming himself mean very little. Consequently, he must follow society, as represented by the Union army, as it strategically retreats from Chancellorsville and from its c.u.mulative failure. If nothing else, Naturalist premises fit neatly into Crane's developing view of a universe indifferent to individual presences.

Also opposing strict Realism, another aesthetic trend that emerged in American letters during the 1890s was literary Impressionism, which among other traits valued the psychological makeup of the artist in his or her rendering of a subject. Thus, the perspective of the artist should occupy the center of any interpretation of the work, whether it be a painting, a poem, or a novel. The artist pinpoints and depicts a small moment pregnant with meaning. Through the eyes of a barmaid working at the Folies-Bergere, edouard Manet captures in paint an instant of ennui that speaks volumes about her life. On an Edgar Degas canvas, we witness a quiet and private moment when a ballerina perfects her position in an exercise. Crane's friend and mentor Hamlin Garland had intently studied the works and philosophy of the French Impressionists. He began to advocate that American literature ought to adopt some of their principles, which he renamed "veritism" in his 1894 book-length essay Crumbling Idols. Crumbling Idols.

In Red Badge, Red Badge, Crane's psyche figures prominently at the center of many pa.s.sages. One Impressionistic moment that is quintessentially Crane's comes during one of the 304th New York's unsuccessful advances. Through devices idiosyncratic to his prose technique, Crane dilates time itself. Throughout the battle scene, Fleming becomes the nexus of an apparent chaos of images, which are really all carefully orchestrated to recreate a terrified intellect coping with the most horrific of battle experiences. Afterward, Fleming marvels: Crane's psyche figures prominently at the center of many pa.s.sages. One Impressionistic moment that is quintessentially Crane's comes during one of the 304th New York's unsuccessful advances. Through devices idiosyncratic to his prose technique, Crane dilates time itself. Throughout the battle scene, Fleming becomes the nexus of an apparent chaos of images, which are really all carefully orchestrated to recreate a terrified intellect coping with the most horrific of battle experiences. Afterward, Fleming marvels: They turned when they arrived at their old position to regard the ground over which they had charged.The youth in this contemplation was smitten with a large astonishment. He discovered that the distances, as compared with the brilliant measurings of his mind, were trivial and ridiculous. The stolid trees, where much had taken place, seemed incredibly near. The time, too, now that he reflected, he saw to have been short. He wondered at the number of emotions and events that had been crowded into such little s.p.a.ces. Elfin thoughts must have exaggerated and enlarged everything, he said (p. 113).

Like a good Impressionist Crane had distilled the attar of a defining moment. (In Stephen Crane and Literary Impressionism, Stephen Crane and Literary Impressionism, James Nagel offers an authoritative overview of Crane's re