The Yale Literary Magazine (Vol. LXXXVIII, No. 3, December 1922)

In Short

This volume serves as a time capsule for the collegiate mind in 1922, functioning as both a literary journal and a mirror of its era’s social atmosphere. Through a collection of essays, sonnets, and book reviews, it documents the struggles of young men attempting to reconcile their inherited traditions with a rapidly changing, disillusioned world. By preserving the earnest, often paradoxical thoughts of students standing on the precipice of adulthood, the magazine remains a poignant record of the search for meaning in a period marked by modernism and post-Great War uncertainty.

The Story

The magazine begins with a call for intellectual awakening. In the opening "Leader," F. O. Matthiessen critiques his fellow students for existing in a state of intellectual drift, arguing that they rely on hollow traditions and half-truths rather than engaging with a personal, examined philosophy. He posits that the modern undergraduate is too distracted by the "business of becoming" to ever truly arrive at a stable identity, and he urges his peers to move beyond superficial skepticism toward a genuine, albeit difficult, spiritual self-realization.

The middle section shifts from this philosophical inquiry to the emotional and artistic expressions of the students themselves. The poetry, particularly the sequences by Russell W. Davenport and Maxwell E. Foster, explores the tension between romantic idealization and the cold reality of human imperfection. These poems are filled with the imagery of "ashes," "ghosts," and "winters," reflecting a profound sense of loss and the struggle to find beauty in a world that feels increasingly fragmented. The speakers in these pieces are not merely writing about love; they are questioning the very foundation of their attachments and the possibility of finding anything permanent in a life that seems designed for transience.

The arc continues through a series of "Book Reviews" that provide a lens for understanding the students' wider literary landscape. These reviews act as a bridge between the undergraduates and the wider world of letters. The students engage with the works of D. H. Lawrence, G. K. Chesterton, and the correspondence of James Fenimore Cooper, using these authors as foils for their own emerging ideologies. They criticize Lawrence for his lack of "reality" while simultaneously admiring his physical portraiture, and they praise Chesterton for his ability to handle "paradoxes" in a way that challenges their own provincial views of American life.

The volume concludes with the "Editor’s Babel," a satirical and fragmented summary of the publication’s own existence. Here, the pretense of formal inquiry collapses into a playful, self-aware acknowledgment of the "chaos" inherent in their efforts to be "punditical." The ending is not a resolution, but a candid admission of the internal contradictions of the student-editor’s life. They realize that despite their attempts to analyze the universe, they remain firmly rooted in the specific, commercial, and often humorous reality of Yale in 1922, surrounded by advertisements for tailors, motor cars, and jewelry, ending on a note of youthful, self-deprecating irony.

How It Unfolds

The call to consciousness The issue opens with a direct challenge to the student body, condemning the habit of living life on the surface and taking institutional traditions for granted. It argues that a failure to develop a coherent philosophy leaves the student vulnerable to the emptiness of modern life.

The emotional landscape The poetry section provides a deep dive into the internal lives of the contributors, where the themes of unrequited love and the agony of silence are explored through classical and celestial metaphors. The verses attempt to reconcile the "fragile" nature of human connection with the crushing weight of time and the "shattering" of youthful expectations.

The critical evaluation The editors turn their gaze outward, reviewing contemporary authors to define their own stance on modernism and religion. They grapple with the tension between a decaying church and a desire for authentic faith, using these reviews to test their own intellectual mettle.

The descent into irony The final section acknowledges the absurdity of the students' academic posturing. By labeling their efforts as "Babel" and "Chaos," the editors step back from their own seriousness, acknowledging that the desire to be an intellectual authority sits uncomfortably alongside the reality of being a student.

The People

F. O. Matthiessen emerges as the primary intellectual voice, an earnest seeker who wants his peers to discard their complacency and confront the necessity of a "scheme of life." He is a man of high ideals, frustrated by the "drab and unreal" nature of organized religion and the perceived shallowness of his classmates.

Russell W. Davenport and Maxwell E. Foster function as the emotional protagonists of the volume. Through their sonnets, they reveal themselves to be young men haunted by the "ghosts" of the past and the silence of their female muses. They are deeply sensitive to the "rotting flesh" of human existence but desperate to believe in an "immortal" beauty, ultimately positioning themselves as tragic figures who find solace only in the act of artistic creation.

The "Dark Priest," found in the poem by K. A. Campbell, acts as a symbolic mentor figure. He is a man of contradictions—holding authority over his students while concealing his own tears and loneliness. He represents the duality the students are grappling with: the requirement to be a teacher and a guide, while secretly harboring the same existential dread that plagues the younger generation.

In Its Own Voice

"We have not the slightest conception of what we believe."

Matthiessen identifies the central void in his contemporaries' lives during his opening analysis of the student condition.

"And Life is done: The race throughout this long bewildering maze is quickly run."

R. C. Bates captures the pervasive sense of fatalism that colors the students' reflections on their own limited time.

"A woman will not have it otherwise."

Davenport, in his exploration of the Dante-Beatrice dynamic, observes the inevitable role women play in the construction of a man’s heaven.

What It's Really About

At its core, this volume is an investigation into the possibility of personal integrity in a disenchanted age. It asks whether it is possible to hold onto a "spiritual" life when the traditional structures—like the church or the university—have lost their vitality. The contributors are preoccupied with the conflict between "self-surrender" and "individuality," searching for a way to be both human and heroic. The text is a map of the transition from the idealism of the nineteenth century to the fractured, self-conscious modernism of the 1920s. It is fundamentally about the discomfort of being "in between"—in between adolescence and adulthood, and in between a dying set of values and a world that has yet to define its own.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the atmosphere of early 20th-century academia will find this book deeply rewarding. It offers a rare, unfiltered look at the "lost generation" while they were still in the classroom, before they became the figures we read about in textbooks. There is a palpable tension between the formal, elevated language of the sonnets and the sudden, jarring reality of the advertisements for "tailors to college men" and "sanitary soda fountains." This contrast creates a fascinating, almost cinematic portrait of a specific time and place.

Modern readers might find the earnestness of the prose somewhat challenging or even naive, and the period-specific attitudes toward religion and gender are very much of their time. However, the emotional honesty of the poetry and the intellectual rigor of the "Leader" are timeless. It feels like reading a diary that has been polished for publication; you are witnessing a group of young men trying to articulate the "hoary and cold and wise" truth of their own fleeting existence. What stays with you is the sense of longing—the realization that these students were using literature to build a rampart against the uncertainty of the future, a project that is as relevant today as it was in 1922.