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    FITZGERALD: The Spire and the Gargoyle & Other Tales: Including Babes in the Woods, Sentiment—and the Use of Rouge & The Pierian Springs and the Last Straw
    FITZGERALD: The Spire and the Gargoyle & Other Tales: Including Babes in the Woods, Sentiment—and the Use of Rouge & The Pierian Springs and the Last Straw
    FITZGERALD: The Spire and the Gargoyle & Other Tales: Including Babes in the Woods, Sentiment—and the Use of Rouge & The Pierian Springs and the Last Straw
    Ebook66 pages56 minutes

    FITZGERALD: The Spire and the Gargoyle & Other Tales: Including Babes in the Woods, Sentiment—and the Use of Rouge & The Pierian Springs and the Last Straw

    By F. Scott Fitzgerald

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    F. Scott Fitzgerald neglected his studies at school and college because he was occupied with his literary apprenticeship. At Princeton he wrote abundantly for The Nassau Literary Magazine. His stories improved steadily, with the last two, "Sentiment-And the Use of Rouge" (June 1917) and "The Pierian Springs and the Last Straw" (October 1917) achieving mature treatment of love and sexual force.
    Table of Contents: The Spire and the Gargoyle Babes in the Woods, Sentiment—and the Use of Rouge, The Pierian Springs and the Last Straw.
    Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald (1896–1940) was an American novelist and short-story writer. He is ranked among the great American writers of the 20th cent. Fitzgerald is widely considered the literary spokesman of the "jazz age"—the decade of the 1920s. Part of the interest of his work derives from the fact that the mad, gin-drinking, morally and spiritually bankrupt men and women he wrote about led lives that closely resembled his own.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMusaicum Books
    Release dateOct 6, 2017
    ISBN9788027218837
    FITZGERALD: The Spire and the Gargoyle & Other Tales: Including Babes in the Woods, Sentiment—and the Use of Rouge & The Pierian Springs and the Last Straw
    Author

    F. Scott Fitzgerald

    F. Scott Fitzgerald (1896–1940) is regarded as one of the greatest American authors of the 20th century. His short stories and novels are set in the American ‘Jazz Age’ of the Roaring Twenties and include This Side of Paradise, The Beautiful and Damned, Tender Is the Night, The Great Gatsby, The Last Tycoon, and Tales of the Jazz Age.

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      Book preview

      FITZGERALD - F. Scott Fitzgerald

      The Spire and the Gargoyle.

      Nassau Literary Magazine (February 1917)

      Table of Contents

      I.

      II.

      III.

      I.

      The night mist fell. From beyond the moon it rolled, clustered about the spires and towers, and then settled below them so that the dreaming peaks seemed still in lofty aspiration toward the stars. Figures that dotted the daytime like ants now brushed along as ghosts in and out of the night. Even the buildings seemed infinitely more mysterious as they loomed suddenly out of the darkness, outlined each by a hundred faint squares of yellow light. Indefinitely from somewhere a bell boomed the quarter hour and one of the squares of light in an east campus recitation hall was blotted out for an instant as a figure emerged. It paused and resolved itself into a boy who stretched his arms wearily, and advancing threw himself down full length on the damp grass by the sun-dial. The cool bathed his eyes and helped to force away the tiresome picture of what he had just left, a picture that, in the two strenuous weeks of examinations now just over, had become indelibly impressed upon his memory—a room with the air fairly vibrating with nervous tension, silent with presence of twenty boys working desperately against time, searching every corner of tired brains for words and figures which seemed forever lost. The boy out on the grass opened his eyes and looked back at the three pale blurs which marked the windows of the examination room. Again he heard:

      There will be fifteen minutes more allowed for this examination. There had followed silence broken by the snapping of verifying watches and the sharp frantic race of pencils. One by one the seats had been left vacant and the little preceptor with the tired look had piled the booklets higher. Then the boy had left the room to the music of three last scratching pencils.

      In his case it all depended on this examination. If he passed it he would become a sophomore the following fall; if he failed, it meant that his college days faded out with the last splendors of June. Fifty cut recitations in his first wild term had made necessary the extra course of which he had just taken the examination. Winter muses, unacademic and cloistered by Forty-second Street and Broadway, had stolen hours from the dreary stretches of February and March. Later, time had crept insidiously through the lazy April afternoons and seemed so intangible in the long Spring twilights. So June found him unprepared. Evening after evening the senior singing, drifting over the campus and up to his window, drew his mind for an instant to the unconscious poetry of it and he, goading on his spoiled and over-indulged faculties, bent to the revengeful books again. Through the careless shell that covered his undergraduate consciousness had broken a deep and almost reverent liking for the gray walls and gothic peaks and all they symbolized in the store of the ages of antiquity.

      In view of his window a tower sprang upward, grew into a spire, yearning higher till its uppermost end was half invisible against the morning skies. The transiency and relative unimportance of the campus figures except as holders of a sort of apostolic succession had first impressed themselves on him in contrast with this spire. In a lecture or in an article or in conversation, he had learned that Gothic architecture with its upward trend was peculiarly adapted to colleges, and the symbolism of this idea had become personal to him. Once he had associated the beauty of the campus night with the parades and singing crowds that streamed through it, but in the last month the more silent stretches of sward and the quiet halls with an occasional late-burning scholastic light held his imagination with a stronger grasp—and this tower in full view of his window became the symbol of his perception. There was something terribly pure in the slope of the chaste stone, something which led and directed and called. To him the spire became an ideal. He had suddenly begun trying desperately to stay in college.

      Well, it’s over, he whispered aloud to himself, wetting his hands in the damp, and running them through his hair. All over.

      He felt an enormous sense of relief. The last pledge had been duly indited in the last book, and his destiny lay no longer in his own hands, but in those of the little preceptor, whoever he was: the boy had never seen him before—and the face,—he looked like one of the gargoyles that nested in dozens of niches in some of the buildings. His glasses, his eyes, or his mouth gave a certain grotesque upward slant to his whole cast of feature,

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