PARADE'S END

BARNIE’S BEGINNING 

Some Thoughts On Ford's Qwartet

Autumn 2012                                                                  

 

 

 

1 : SURRENDER SWEET

 

A couple of chapters in :    “I’d like to read this book again.”

Later                             :       “Even then, I could not know all its riches.”

Halfway                         :       “This is tremendous, what extraordinary control.”

Often                             :       “I cant wait to get back to reading it.”

Days after finishing        :    "How pleasant to think about its thinking.”

 

And suddenly, the voice of my Meta-Self, watching my Praising-Self:

“Those remarks are truly the zenith of every writer’s hope. Well, those and one more, invoking the comparator”

 My Praising-Self interrupted:  

“I’ve already heard myself pronounce – this is as good as War & Peace, which I can’t imagine re-reading. It’s not a new Iliad : but,  then - that’s incomparable.

  

2 : RESISTANCE

A man chases a girl until she catches him.

Unfortunately, I didn’t see this caution until me and the girl were fighting in our net. Is resistance a gift or an insult? One can’t fake resistance. Well, of course you can, but why would you: for one knows that once one is aware of resistance, there is no greater pleasure than when that rejection, somehow, is changed into attraction, even compulsion. It is as if one is suddenly filled with twice, or even three times, the volume and density of pleasure that one would have had, had the courtship been unresisted.

 For a true or proper Reader, the pursuit of books, and the acts of reading books, and the acts of talking & writing about them, are never merely intellectual: she is always aware of the rising swell of a deep undercurrent of psycho-sexual energy that sustains her identity. Even those who wouldn’t know to call it that, and would be surprised to give voice to this remark by an Oxbridge scholar : “I find libraries so erotically charged”.  They’d certainly be among the few young men and women, in any generation anywhere,  who might say: “I had rather than forty shillings I had my book of Songs and Sonnets here”  [Shakespeare : Merry Wives of Windsor : £8K today]

A young person comes into the priceless property of properness in the seven millennial community of proper-readers when she accepts the judgment, re-pronounced in every generation, that there are books she ought to read.  “I will read at least some of what I ought to” is sufficient oath to be admitted to the community. The vaunting. eternally-teen, taunt “I won’t be told, and I will read only what I want”  will induce in any true-Reader absolute pity.

When I saw Parade’s End on the tv-listings, I thought - I ought to read it first. So I taped the first episode, thinking I would. A part of me hoped it would be a short book like his The Good Soldier, which I’d read years ago. So when I saw the size of it - a quartet! – I felt defeated : for I had felt too lowered this year to plan that much effort. I allowed myself to watch the tv series now.

Very quickly, I was ravished by the film : a sense of being overwhelmed by pleasure, emotional longing & intellectual delight, but also  a shard of distress, an unbounded hate that puzzled me. I ought to read it now . I watched the first four episodes, and then re-watched them in reverse order. The pleasure and hate deepened. In my ghostly solitude, my heart had leapt at the courtship of Tietjens and Valentine : not only did it have the Biblical echo of Jacob waiting for Rachel, for seven years, and the pagan echo of Penelope waiting for her war hero for ten years, but it took me seven days reading to get to their union. Watching again the beautifully filmed scene of the night-drive through the fog, the resisted kiss in the mist, and the bitter tears by the wounded horse, I wept with relief that I wasn’t too dead to be shaken by this longing denied.  But why did I hate Sylvia so much? Wasn’t that a symptom of some kind of death?   

Without being limited to a type, Sylvia is the siren. But the actress wasn’t my type. I remember being shocked that she looked a little like my friend’s daughter: and I recalled a remark by Martin Amis – “My school-friend was blessed with looking John Lennon. Girls would go out with him just for that pretence.”  Then I was glad for her, and wondered who else saw it. Tv-Sylvia revolted me, she had a moral ugliness that was impassable. In a Seinfeld episode of pretended identity, George is unable to resist a beautiful young woman who is throwing herself at him. Only when Jerry reminds him of the truth “She’s a Nazi” , does he reject her. Is that a good limit? Ford wrote before the Nazi’s redefined evil.  

Years ago, my friends knew that I would not take a lodger who liked soaps or rap-music, even in their own room in my house. To understand the depth of this preference, one asked: “If an incredibly attractive woman was interested in taking the room, and she liked soaps & rap, what would you do? It really didn’t feel hard to say “I still wouldn’t let her in!”  

I bought the book partly to seek understanding about and relief from my now  geriatric intolerance. More hopefully, I wondered how the sublime moon-ride would be written by Ford himself.  

Predictably, a proper-essay doesn’t follow : just more asides, partly setting off from Aristotle’s elements : but I intend more than critical square-bashing.

 

3 : JAGGED TIME & SPACE

The tv film was transmitted, and I began reading the novel, almost exactly one century after the events of the story begin, Summer 1912. Perhaps because television adaptations are required to spoon-feed the restless viewer, including clear flashbacks,  it was only when I began reading the novel that I realized how much Ford wanted the reader to trust him as he leapt back and forth across the time-line. A series of actions are described, implying a certain (logical) outcome. But then he jumps over the implied but unstated outcome to a later development and starts complicating that. The earlier unstated outcome is gradually or suddenly introduced, but often without the expected narrative weight. Such devices heighten the tension, for there is always the possibility that the logical outcome will be displaced by a (ridiculous) surprise. 

Another beautifully tensioned scene is where Christopher & Valentine’s attempted reunion is repeatedly interrupted. I was reminded of those great Dostoevskian set-pieces where there is a room, tiny like Raskolnikov’s hovel (Crime & Punishment) or huge as in Stavrogina’s drawing-room (The Devils), into which one new person after another keeps arriving disrupting all possibility of understanding the gathering chaos. Being before the telephone era, his characters had actually to be there in the same physical space, even if in an a upper-room or behind a screen. In Ford’s novel, but not in the film, Valentine’s mother is present in Tietjens house – with its doorstep and its several floors filling with visitors -  as a voice held in the phone. In a magnificent piece of symbolism, she is almost telling herself that she must cut the umbilical cord.

It is only when the quartets ends that the oscillations stop. Until then, not only is the story told from various perspectives, but crucial details are omitted in earlier tellings. We realise later that our readerly satisfaction at the reunion was premature: for we are returned to the Tietjen’s house to meet new horrors.  

I know nothing of Ford’s biography, but if Ford modeled Christopher on his own brilliant mind, then he almost certainly knew what Einstein & Picasso had done to relative perspective and multi-dimensionality : and was perhaps aiming for a writerly correlate.      

 

4 : NOT FREYTAG’S TRIANGLE

4a : CHRISTOPHER : WHO COULDN’T QUITE DESUBLIMATE

Christopher Tietjens is given by several of his group the ascriptions, “the most brilliant man in England … genius… knows everything”  [pp 103,19,30] Ordinary people fantasise about such hyperbolic praise, without any sense of the burden it imposes. In our time, the ascription “the most naturally gifted player the game has seen”  has clearly caused more dismay than joy to Ronnie O' Sullivan. Paradoxically, it erases his future. Tietjens’s solution is to anchor his future dreams in the 18C. This is a symptom of a unconscious wound he can’t know. Worse still, he can’t quite anchor himself to his anchor. Like any Victorian aristocrat, given the inheritance of a classical education, he is forever tempted, despite all the daily & annual rituals of Christianity, by the headier slopes of Parnassus . The famed Duchemin breakfast is a modern symposium-feast. Alas, the tension of the two worldviews sends the poor Reverend insane. But there is a Platonic/Socratic purity in Tietjens’s refusal to subvert an established mathematical proof, even for money or position : for he has quite enough of both. He agrees to create a falsehood for which his poor friend Macmaster might take credit & benefit.     

Initially, money, even his salary, for his intellectual labours, has no necessity or meaning.  Money, cash or cheque, is of course either frozen-labour, or frozen-time, or both. In time-established, land-based hierarchies, money cannot buy immediate elevation. Macmaster might get a knighthood, by plagiarizing Tietjens’s idea, but only his great-grandchildren will, if he also gets land, be admitted to aristocracy. Social codes are not as fixed as natural laws : like magnetic-poles repel, but aristocrats can refuse to lend to their own. Certain terms are inscribed with monetary-exchange - labour, tenant, lodger – and imply the correlate owner. If Tietjens gifts rather than lends money to his co-tenant Macmaster, does that he mean he owns him or unconsciously wants to? If his brother Mark says he could only sublet to a tenant who is not equally-English, what obligation is he afraid of? Two catastrophic plot-lines are initiated by the material mystery of these questions. In a rare moment of expressed impatience rather than hauteur, Tietjens says “Ah, the lodger” to Ruggles. This wound is enough to turn the latter into Othello’s bitterly envious ensign Iago. Lady Macmaster’s growing contempt for her upstart husband becomes a suspicion of his friend’s gift, and she furthers Ruggles’s calumnies. Sibling rivalry persuades Mark of their truth. To call to duel & kill your love-rival is one thing : but to bounce his cheque for a few hours is pathetic. And yet this paper-cut is the final insult Tietjens’s father feels leaves him no family reply except suicide.

Tietjens principal pleasure before the war, and his last defence on the battlefield, is mentation : the correction of errors, literary or scientific, published or conversational, and the pursuit of correct mathematical solutions especially those predicting or prosecuting war, and prose fitting immediate experience. The poetry contest he initiates, and the skylark dispute, both on the battlefield, are the moral zenith of this strategy. His secondary bliss is for non-human nature – flowers, birds, horses, the ‘timeless’ landscape. “each knew the names of birds and grasses… all technical terms the best people must know” [p.105]  As with Hopkins , he is barely aware of the desperate, sexual displacement involved. He felt that "You seduced a young woman in order to be able to finish your talks to her". Surely every human appetite must be treated as a good end-in-itself, and not a mere means to another satisfaction. Imagine a woman saying she prefers the post-coital cigarette to the sex. Despite this, there is a moral grandeur to the care for the horse felt by both Christopher & Valentine in their magnificent wooing scene. It is almost as if they already have a child.

 If the efflorescence of sexual desire is always accompanied by a sense of prohibition, the cause is either universal psychopathology, an unresolved Oedipus complex, or local theology. Perhaps Freud was too new for Ford to use deeply : for he focused on religious wars, an old curse on his family, and a strange bastard concept – Anglican Saint. But this, like all other pre-war identities, 18C or 20C, are exposed as fragile and untenable by the monstrous vanity & venality of those aristocrats & climbers running the war. These bitter experiences release Tietjens to a different conception of money & labour, knowledge & sexuality. 

4b: SYLVIA : WHO COULDN’T QUITE SUBLIMATE

What is a woman worth – her body and the work she might do?  There is no power on earth like that of a mother’s over an infinitely, dependant child, boy or girl. But only boys grow up to know that they, like all men, will have all the other kinds of possible powers, including over the parameters of female sexuality and motherhood. Most girls grow up being told that there is only baby-work and house-work ahead. That these tasks also assume the precondition that a woman knows she is (somehow) the solution to all the puzzles of male sexuality is less often told. But it is not hard for her to fathom that men see female capital as comprised of silent physical beauty (as they define it) and a non-threatening quick-wittedness at learning and performing house-tasks, the angel of the house : and that what they are most ambivalent about is a woman’s consciousness of, let alone command of, her own sexual allure, the harlot of the hearth.  If a woman can’t have babies, or if she has servants & nannies, to do house-work and baby-work, what is she to do?

Portia, the heroine of The Merchant of Venice, might home-study law, disguise herself as a man and rescue her fiancé from ruin: but then she must put away manly things. Helen, the heroine of All’s Well That Ends Well,  might home-study medicine, cure the King, but still get rejected as a bride by a man barely a social (not academic) degree higher, because the King hasn’t yet elevated her. Shakespeare didn't dare risk doing anything but having her trick him into sex & 'win' him back.

Whatever economic or social worth there is in good women, there is little narrative worth in them. There is a roll-call of Victorian female characters, who are described as very or most beautiful in their social sphere, but who lose what little interestingness they had a moment after marriage: both to their husband and to the reader : Jane Bennett in Pride & Prejudice, Rosamond Vincy in Middlemarch, Amelia Sedley in Vanity Fair,  Gwendoline Harleth in Daniel Deronda, Cynthia Kikpatrick in Wives & Daughters. Their sexuality is disavowed. Admittedly, Elizabeth Bennett has a better range of conversation style, but she will not learn & do as Molly Gibson, or aspire heroically like Dorothea Brooke. And again their bedroom-self is denied.

Thackeray shows Becky Sharp as commanding a vibrant sexuality and linguistic & economic finesse. Though she, like Portia & Helen, still won’t be allowed a profession in which to exercise her skills, one senses that her marriage to Rawdon has enough mutual pleasure. I feel that Thackeray need not have added child cruelty to her faults of opportunism, little different from men’s. She is indifferent to but rarely vicious to their son: though these faults are bad enough.

Interestingly, there is a little cited Victorian novel that gives due weight to female sexual desire and female public intellectuality, Kingsley’s Hypatia : asking in high rhetorical style: That Pallas herself should be conquered every day by Venus Pandemos!    

We’ve seen that aristocratic men, like Tietjens, can choose, for diversion and not from economic necessity, to master a profession or State task. But gorgeous women of that strata still had fuck-all to do : well, apart from fucking or teasing all, there was also protecting their rank from uppity clever girls. Both religion and State cosseted them from the smallest effort : they could bring their maids to penitential retreats and they could buy pre-made war-effort woollens.  

Ford’s Sylvia is that rare beast in a pre-contemporary novel, a sexualized female, but (for whatever literary or didactic reason) she is too beastly, almost mono-dimensional : in the sense of being demented rather than poorly drawn. Her only social and existential capital is sexual allure, in her couture and in her relentlessly sexualized conversation and gesture. But, apart from sexual teasing, she is shown as experiencing very little actual sexual joy : her disappointments feeding a boundless capacity for malice. The tv-actress plays her superbly, and it was only when I read the book that I felt justified in hating her. Not only for the Ioagoan project to destroy her own husband’s flickering capacity for happiness, but she had sunk to the inhuman nadir, which appears there but not in the film : she contemplates corrupting her own child. She is a perfect illustration of the maxim tantum religio potuit suadere malorum : a morally flawed person made worse by their flirting only with the drama of religious belief.

(After finishing this essay, I read a judgement on her  by another adulterous Catholic, "surely the most possessed evil character in the modern novel". Graham Greene)

She, too sets a time-test, but unlike Tietjens’s suggestion of a poetry-fight as a mutual psychic bandage from war-trauma, “never think on the subject of a shock at a moment of a shock” [p.315],  hers is private, despite invoking her former priest, and yet another, almost masturbatory, fantasy about a perfect man for her brittle ego. She neither has the wifely dignity of Helen nor of Andromache nor of even Maintenon in a time of war.

Speaking of human sexuality as a subject for writers, Ibsen infamously said : “Zola goes to the sewer to wallow in it, I go to cleanse it”. All one needs to add to this typically sanctimonious bragging is that Ibsen was a gong-loving social-climber, whereas Zola defended Dreyfus. I cheered when I recently heard the great French actress Juliette Binoche say she’d preferred the daring pursuit of sexual truths of admittedly bonkers Strindberg to the safely controversial Ibsen.

Despite the Censor’s prohibition of explicit reference, medical or vernacular, to human sex parts, positions and stimulations, Ford was able more than many to communicate a sense of their profound affective correlates : why it  drives men and women almost mad with puzzlement & dismay, and occasionally takes them to a deeper &  higher union. Nowadays the writer or film-maker can say & show everything: but interestingly it is a tv programme which is Fordian in its restraint which has more thought about sexuality : Law & Order : Special Victims Unit. An episode that I saw, as I was working through Ford, offered a fictional detail that was clearly intended to have documentary force : that the Forensic Departments of several major US cities had thousands of untested rape kits. The viewer was asked not only to consider the fictional implication that hundreds of rapists were still walking free among the citizenry : but also the question – What does it mean that my city can’t and won’t find the money to pay enough lab-workers to test them? There are two broad responses to such facts : conspiracy or (tragic irony) cock-up.

Unsurprisingly, I connected this example to Ford’s satire about army supplies. If war is fighting fire with fire, then the fire-extinguisher is a necessary tool. Tietjens is commanded to obtain them, but his efforts are stymied by it would seem innocently contradictory regulations. But there is no more innocence here than in US City Hall : High Command needs but scorns its Dominion troops.

 

4c : VALENTINE : WHO LEARNED TO DO BOTH

General readers, as well as feminists, might baulk at the frequency of mostly male narratives, where a sexually confident woman is shown as doomed socially, and perhaps even to murder – as In Looking For Mr Goodbar. Psychoanalysts describe an existential doom separable from social scandal. If Freud was right, and of course he was, that human well-being was defined by attaining a balance of love and work, that is mutual, genitally expressed love, and spontaneously creative effort as well as life-supporting labour, then an idle, rich beauty was already done for.

For some, not all, landed aristocrats, there was another aristocracy, based on merit, that their capacity for intellectual pleasures wouldn’t let them deny viz ranks of scholarship. One would not scorn a Professor, one would take a Vice Chancellor’s Latin Prize Man as an equal. It had been so for men-only for six centuries of Oxbridge. So, George Eliot could only show her heroine Dorothea aching for the opportunity of purposed learning, whereas Ford was able to show the first two generations given that chance, if not yet the vote. He honourably describes the erotic charge of study, known from Plato onwards : that thrilling current ever-remembered by Valentine’s father’s female students, and of course more complexly embedded in her.

But he also shows in minute detail that except for the tiniest minority of landed aristocrats, even the highest knowledge must be sold for bread & shelter. The widow of the famed feminist pedagogue Professor Wannop must beg and bustle for writing commissions : and his daughter work as a slavey and then as gym teacher : when in a different time she too might have been an Hypatia or written Italian dictionaries like Barbara Reynolds or done neuro-research like Susan Greenfield.

The deepest joy the tv film gave me was the scene of Christopher and Valentine’s night-drive. I thought it was one of the most astonishing scenes of unconscious wooing. At first it seems ridiculously anachronistic, in the 20C to involve horses and wooden wheels : as if one was riding with Elizabeth or Tess. That it involves a certain amount of mutual provoking might also cast it as cliché. What is so lovely is how the mutual recognition of intellectual beauty, Latin as the language of love,  and even more so of moral beauty, her daring as a suffragette and his willingness to break the law to help her friend flee, transfigures their visible physical bodies, which would be diminished in any objective comparisons, Sylvie and Mark are better looking, into the perfectly desired shape. In her innocent rapture she can even say to him You are not so dreadfully ugly, really”. [p.131] As Sylvia is doomed to learn in bitterness, moral beauty does not wither. Again, the passage in the book is even better : for it has the complete love-fight over Latin grammar. It must be the most intellectual wooing scene in English literature. Stoppard didn’t dare put all that in, in case the viewer got bored. Shakespeare’s only bilingual love-scene in Henry V is frivolous and implausible by comparison, albeit good theatre. It is remarkable that Ford didn’t dumb down. I wondered if there was a CD of it read aloud.

 Ascetics are an affront to the weak-willed: what are they feeding on that they don’t need to eat like us?!  Even their relatives & friends, and especially Sylvia, could not see that for Christopher & Valentine those few fractured meetings, could sustain them for seven years & despite opposing attitudes to the war and social scandal : so, they conjectured more ordinary lusts & obligations and, in vicious envy, set forth fatal slanders.

There is a remarkable dialogue Valentine has with herself, where she wonders whether the attainment of peak physical fitness, though feeling satisfying  & clean, isn’t somehow dangerous, inimical to thinking. She doesn’t name it so, but this is an ancient fight between Hellenic and Jewish world views. Five years later, in the real world, The Football Association, terrified at the popularity of female football, persuaded tame doctors to lie about female anatomy, so that they could force insurance companies to withdraw cover and thus make their matches illegal. Ninety years after that, this summer, after GB’s women footballers performed better than the men in the Olympics, the FA & BOA said they might not send any team to Rio .  

It is very moving that Christopher accepts Valentine bringing him from his solitary compensatory 18C fantasies into a shared present reality. They will both do manual and intellectual work for money, and continue their conversation, and there will be their new baby, a real one.

 5 : THE WRITER’S RIGHT WORD

How does a writer most subtly introduce himself to the Reader as the writer of these particular words? A confident display of a variety of sentence-weights, character-apt & task-apt vocabularies, and accurately transcribed regional vernaculars, are surely assumed in proper-literature, as distinguishable from trash or the middle-brow. They are all here. But, as Stothard recently wrote one of the primary task of proper novels and criticism is to teach readers to read anew, make more effort with this book and others referred to. Some of Ford’s characters are almost forbiddingly well-read, their reading & reflection upon it, being part of their thinking-pulse eg the casual reference to Dante being a swine and the dazzling conjunction of Goethe & Rosa Luxemborg. Even, the almost stock-character of the bluff-general can say : “I have spent a great deal of time in reading”. To which comes the even more startling reply : “I know sir. You made me read Clarendon’s ‘History of the Great Rebellion’ when I was twelve.”  

But he is most present in the Latin (& German) discourses, the recall of Anglican poets, the poetry-fight, sonnet versus epic, and  the need to find the just word for each of the moment-by-moment horrors of trench life. A writer being all his/her characters, the reader knows Ford is  saying  to   him/her –  I could do the English pentameters and the Latin hexameters : and also challenging him/her.

In a hotel in Cracow , as midnight brought my birthday, I set myself to write a sonnet before I went to bed for the sleep before I visited a death-camp. It took me just under an hour.

Peter Cook’s aspiring miner laments “I never had the Latin for the judging. I didn't have sufficient to get through the rigorous judging exam” . I don’t know what percent of Ford’s first readers had sufficient Latin to judge his literary use of it : but I do know that most of them in recent decades, like me, have been as lamed as the poor miner. As I said above  I found its use in the love-drive ravishing, rather than an affront to the common reader, like moi.

Here’s a different piece of social engineering. In 1964 my state primary class went up to Big School : the boys to one designated a Technical Grammar and the girls to one next door called a Grammar School. At the latter, Valentine Wannop’s granddaughters were offered Latin, but I wasn’t!.  When I read Chandler’s remarks on his education 'If I hadn't grown up on Latin and Greek, I doubt I would know so well how to draw the line between what I call a vernacular style and what I should call an illiterate or faux naif style.” I felt even more cheated.  (Of course I could made the effort to learn later!)

There is one word which the bitter Ruggles uses to describe Tietjens to his father, and which proves to be the death-word:  “What the French called maquereau. I can’t think of the English word”  [p.490]. Ford has told us that the Grobyans lived a while in France but doesn’t translate the word for the reader. Not having sufficient French either, I had to look it up. It is slang for ‘pimp’.  But any bilingual male would know that as it literally means ‘mackerel’, the English translation would be, as Hamlet knew ‘fishmonger’! 

6 : PARADE & FAMILY TREE  

At a certain point, reading the final part, I felt I was being offered the same paragraph about the Groby Tree as a moment earlier : and I felt bored and annoyed. But only for a moment, and I thought of the similar boredom when TS Eliot’s narrator in The Wasteland keeps generating conditionals about rock and water. I knew it was my task to understand the meaning of the repetition. Another Eliotian gem, from Journey of the Magi gives us an overall perspective on the book.

There was a Birth, certainly,

We had evidence and no doubt.

What is remarkable about Ford’s quartet, set during the greatest intellectual flowering after Pericles’s Athens and the Medicis’s Florence , is the susceptibility of sophisticated, educated people to magical thinking about hidden babies. This is not Wildean farce, in which a dowager can humiliate a spinster-virgin with the line Prism, Where is that baby?! : but group hysteria, almost terror. But then monarchy and landed aristocracy depend on evidence of the right baby born to the right person at the right time. Any doubt can bring the whole edifice down. Once there is the idea of a (magically arrived) baby, sexual prowess and sexual betrayal are subordinate matters. One of the required parades Tietjens initially believed in was pretending paternity. But then, for some of his circle, his contented altruism – for he loved the boy - becomes evidence of other babies. Such seemingly wanton sexuality loses him his security clearance, as it would Turing after the next war. The Chorus of Calumny sifts all sexual permutations and ultimately the absolute horror is invoked - incest. Is Valentine Christopher’s half-sister?  More soberly, there is a documentary integrity in Ford’ s introduction of the related theme of war-babies in other ranks.  

Among the very few lacunae in this magnificently, comprehensive novel is the unmentionable tree, Darwin ’s sketch of the tree of life from the mid-19C, which had shattered the moral viability of all contingent political hierarchies that included servitude & slavery between humans. My intuition is that Ford/Tietjens would have known the grim statistics of inhuman exploitation in European colonies compiled by Casement : yet India seems to be no more than a reward for being a good/pliant war-time general. Given that Tietjens seems to hold almost to the medieval idea of the Great Chain of Being, I don’t quite understand his precise valorization of the 18C.   

Parades are also opportunities to parade medals. There is a true story told by the exceptional Baker Street London Centre code-breaker Leo Marks, that as World War Two ended, his CO asked him to choose a medal. He replied he would take no honour greater than any given to the girls on his team. Yes, he got nothing. I was reminded of this by Ford’s scene about gongs. By the Army’s own established criterion-referencing for acts of bravery, (though that formal-term is not used), Tietjens is said to deserve a medal : but his CO invoked norm-referencing, explaining that (but not why) they wanted to limit the medals : which, having a use-value as well as moral-value, might help a non-aristocrat more in the land fit for heroes.

 (I ask the reader to think about the GCSE English (not Latin) fiasco this summer : and the absence from almost all reporting of it of the central concepts of norm & criterion referencing that I use above.)  

7 : CODA  

Equal in originality to the wooing scene, is the deathbed scene that closes the epic. There is a brilliant frustration of reader expectation : after his prominence in the first three parts, we expect, and soon long, to see enter into the room again, “the dear, meal sack elephant”  Tietjens [p.674]. But Ford denies us: offering instead the silent statue of his brother, Mark.  And after the repeated valorisations of aristocracy and learning, in both ancient and modern tongues, by all the principal characters, Ford chooses for his closing words, the stricken man’s stroke breaking with his dying breath, that must soothe his sister-in-law, and the reader, a song and a line of folk wisdom recalled from his untutored nurse:

“ Never thou let thy barnie weep for thy sharp tongue to thy goodman… A good man.”   

So Tietjens doesn’t get to parade. But this Reader salutes Ford’s presence in the first ranks of Modern Classics.