A Williams Anthology A Collection of the Verse and Prose of Williams College, 1798-1910 — Context and Discussion
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The compilers of this 1910 anthology, Edwin Partridge Lehman and Julian Park, explicitly state their dual criteria for inclusion: “real literary merit” and, in some cases, “the historical interest attaching to the production.” This editorial stance shapes the reader’s encounter with the collection, particularly in the dramatic monologue “Ahasuerus,” a verse play about the Wandering Jew. The excerpt reveals a deliberate choice to foreground a character’s interior anguish through repetitive, weary diction—words like “weary,” “chill,” and “curse” accumulate to evoke a sense of eternal punishment. The compilers’ note that they “burrowed through all files of the college publications” suggests a curatorial effort to rescue student work from obscurity, yet they also acknowledge the risk of including “unworthy matter.” This tension between literary quality and historical curiosity permeates the volume.
Diction of Weariness in 'Ahasuerus'
The excerpt from “Ahasuerus” relies on a narrow lexical field to convey the protagonist’s exhaustion. Words such as “weary,” “chill,” “aged,” “heavy,” and “dreamless” recur, creating a rhythmic monotony that mirrors the character’s endless wandering. The line “I am so weary, weary of it all” exemplifies this repetition, emphasizing a spiritual and physical fatigue that the dialogue reinforces. The compilers’ inclusion of this piece, despite its uneven quality, likely stems from its dramatic ambition and its engagement with a well-known legend. The diction choices—archaic phrases like “methinks” and “doth buffet”—align with the play’s attempt at a solemn, biblical register, though they occasionally tip into melodrama. This linguistic patterning invites readers to consider how student writers of the period adapted literary conventions to express existential themes.
Dialogue as a Vehicle for Conflict
The dialogue between Ahasuerus and the monk Anselm hinges on a single, charged revelation: “I am a Jew.” This line, delivered after a pause, shifts the power dynamic. Anselm’s response—recounting his own conversion experience with a Jew who “heaped great coals of fire on my head”—uses dialogue to dramatize a moral lesson. The compilers’ selection of this scene suggests an interest in how student playwrights handled theological debate through conversational exchange. The stage directions, such as “the Jew groans to himself” and “the monk starts,” indicate a reliance on physical reaction to underscore emotional shifts. The dialogue’s formal, Latinate syntax (“Pray, let me sit beside you; all alone / My brethren left you?”) contrasts with Ahasuerus’s bitter, fragmented utterances, highlighting the tension between Christian charity and Jewish alienation.
Descriptive Framing of Setting and Atmosphere
The opening stage directions establish a stormy night: “The wind is wild, and stormy is the night.” This description serves as more than backdrop; it externalizes Ahasuerus’s inner turmoil. The compilers’ inclusion of such atmospheric details reflects a preference for Gothic or Romantic conventions common in early twentieth-century collegiate writing. The “crackling of the flames and the moaning of the wind” create a sensory contrast with the “holy peace” Anselm perceives. The editors’ note that the poetry in the anthology shows “steady advance” over seventy years suggests that descriptive passages like these were valued as markers of literary development. The setting also functions symbolically, with the “Virgin’s shrine” and the “bench” providing a static, sacred space against which the Jew’s eternal wandering is measured.
The Compilers’ Curatorial Voice
Lehman and Park’s introduction offers a rare glimpse into the editorial principles behind the anthology. They describe their process as “burrowing” through ninety volumes, a metaphor that implies both diligence and the dusty obscurity of the source material. Their admission that some pieces are included for “historical interest” rather than literary merit—citing the “Resolutions addressed to President Adams” as an example—reveals a pragmatic approach to canon formation. The compilers also note that the poetry has “made a steady advance,” particularly in the last six years, naming specific authors like Dutton and Westermann. This evaluative language positions the anthology as both a preservation effort and a claim for the college’s intellectual reputation. Readers should note that the editors’ judgments are themselves historical artifacts, reflecting early twentieth-century tastes in student writing.
Readers approaching this anthology should attend to the compilers’ framing as much as to the selections themselves. The tension between literary merit and historical curiosity—acknowledged in the introduction—shapes every page. The excerpts from “Ahasuerus” demonstrate how student writers of the period employed diction, dialogue, and description to grapple with weighty themes, even when the results are uneven. This volume rewards those who read with an eye for the evolving craft of young authors and the curatorial choices that preserve their work.
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