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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
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+status under the laws that apply to them.
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #67209 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67209)
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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Little Review, January-February
-1916 (Vol. 2, No. 10), by Margaret C. Anderson
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: The Little Review, January-February 1916 (Vol. 2, No. 10)
-
-Author: Various
-
-Editor: Margaret C. Anderson
-
-Release Date: January 21, 2022 [eBook #67209]
-
-Language: English
-
-Produced by: Jens Sadowski and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
- at http://www.pgdp.net. This book was produced from images
- made available by the Modernist Journal Project, Brown and
- Tulsa Universities.
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE REVIEW,
-JANUARY-FEBRUARY 1916 (VOL. 2, NO. 10) ***
-
-
-
-
-
- THE LITTLE REVIEW
-
-
- Literature Drama Music Art
-
- MARGARET C. ANDERSON
- EDITOR
-
- JANUARY-FEBRUARY, 1916
-
- Poems: H. D.
- Late Spring
- Night
- A Deeper Music Margaret C. Anderson
- Blue-Prints: Harriet Dean
- Debutante
- The Pillar
- The Pathos of Proximity Alexander S. Kaun
- Solitude David O’Neil
- The Novelist Sherwood Anderson
- Asperities: Mitchell Dawson
- Threat
- In Passing
- Teresa
- Amy Lowell’s Book F. S. Flint
- The Picnic Marjory Seiffert
- Editorials and Announcements
- “American Art” “The Critic”
- Photography C. A. Z.
- Book Discussion
- The Reader Critic
-
- Published Monthly
-
- 15 cents a copy
-
- MARGARET C. ANDERSON, Publisher
- Fine Arts Building
- CHICAGO
-
- $1.50 a year
-
- Entered as second-class matter at Postoffice, Chicago
-
-
-
-
- THE LITTLE REVIEW
-
-
- Vol. II
-
- JANUARY-FEBRUARY, 1916
-
- No. 10
-
- Copyright, 1916, by Margaret C. Anderson
-
-
-
-
- Poems
-
-
- H. D.
-
-
- Late Spring
-
- We can not weather all this gold
- Nor stand under the gold from elm-trees
- And the re-coated sallows.
- We can not hold our heads erect
- Under this golden dust.
-
- We can not stand
- Where enclosures for the fruit
- Drop hot—radiant—slight petals
- From each branch.
-
- We can not see:
- The dog-wood breaks—white—
- The pear-tree has caught—
- The apple is a red blaze—
- The peach has already withered its own leaves—
- The wild plum-tree is alight.
-
-
- Night
-
- The night has cut each from each
- And curled the petals back from the stalk
- And under it in crisp rows:
-
- Under at an unfaltering pace,
- Under till the rinds break,
- Back till each bent leaf
- Is parted from its stalk:
-
- Under at a grave pace,
- Under till the leaves are bent
- Back till they drop upon the earth,
- Back till they are all broken.
-
- O night,
- You take the petals of the roses in your hand,
- But leave the stark core of the rose
- To perish on the branch.
-
-
-
-
- A Deeper Music
-
-
- MARGARET C. ANDERSON
-
-A piano, alone on a stage; shadowed light around and above it; ivory and
-ebony moving out of the shadow; and the silence that hangs there before
-the musician plays. There is nothing like it in the world,—nothing more
-wonderful....
-
- * * * * *
-
-There are “revolutions” going on in all the arts. The revolution in
-poetry is coming in for a lot of discussion, so that even the layman is
-conscious of it. His feeling about it is that some effeminate beings
-called Imagists are trying to emasculate the noble art of poetry. But
-the thing is happening right under his nose and he is careful to keep
-posted, in order to be able to defend his favorite theory. As for the
-stage, he knows that Gordon Craig and Rhinehart have been using screens
-instead of marble pillars painted against red velvet curtains. In
-painting he knows all about the cubists and futurists; he even knows
-that the donkey’s tail story was something of a joke. In sculpture he
-has heard of an unreasonable reaction from Rodin, and he has probably
-seen Brzeska’s head of Ezra Pound. In the ballet he has a rather clear
-idea of why the old classical form wouldn’t serve; perhaps because the
-Russians have demonstrated so clearly what it was they could do with the
-new form. In opera he thinks very little is happening. He is right.
-
-But the slowest revolution of all—and the most interesting—is that which
-is just beginning in the art of the piano. It is the slowest because it
-is not the public alone that is bound to the old form. The masters
-themselves have not visioned toward a need that would make a new form
-inevitable. The need is—a deeper music. And it is the most interesting
-because the convention that has bound the piano,—virtuosity,—is a more
-worthy convention than that which has restricted any of the other arts.
-
-There is a universe of the arts in the piano. But it is not a universe
-now. It is a stunt. The piano has been used for stunts for years and
-years and years. It will go on being used that way for years. Well, I am
-the last one to deprecate the art of these stunts. I think they are
-beautiful—some of them. I think they have their place. But they have
-served it too well. I love them more than I love all the opals and
-rubies and sapphires and emeralds and topaz and amethyst and pearl a
-jeweller can dip his fingers into and spread out for your dazzled
-senses. But I love poetry more than jewels. And I love music more than
-poetry. In the music of the piano you get the best illustration that
-music is a thing beginning and ending in itself, a thing not of story or
-image but of sound, a thing that must be understood quite simply in its
-own terms,—as Hiram Kelly Moderwell puts it, a thing that must be heard
-and not seen. And in the revolution that is beginning you get this first
-pure principle combined with another; that the music of the piano must
-reach to the passion of life. This is quite different from saying that
-music must be a dramatization of human life. It is merely saying that
-ballet dancing could never have produced an Isadora Duncan.
-
-I imagine that Harold Bauer must have said something of this sort to
-himself. He has certainly said it on the piano. His attitude toward the
-piano has this sort of prophecy in it. It is a matter of the beauty of
-sound. The methods of approach of all the “masters” have been the same.
-They have imposed something upon the piano. But Bauer has approached the
-handling of the piano as Debussy approached composition—or Schönberg.
-
-When Schönberg wrote that “the alleged tones believed to be foreign to
-harmony do not exist; they are merely tones foreign to our accepted
-harmonic system”, and that “tonality is not a hard and fast compulsion
-directing the course of music but a concept which makes it possible for
-us to give our ideas the requisite aspect of compactness”, he was saying
-practically what Bauer has suggested about the touching of the piano:
-that virtuosity is only a means to an end, that the springs of the art
-have been drying up, and that until the musician can _hear_ better he is
-not worthy of the sounds the piano has to give him. You can’t play César
-Franck with the same hands you use for Liszt. You must change your hands
-into different “feelers”. The piano will give you the quality of almost
-every instrument. It is as though Bauer had said: “They call this an
-instrument of percussion. They have laid down its limitation. But I
-doubt very much whether it will stay within that limitation. I suspect
-it does not stop there but goes on into a realm where sound is of
-infinite development.” That is why you hear an organ when he plays César
-Franck; that is why you realize how the Imagists have worked when he
-plays Debussy; that is why you get a sense of painting in all his music.
-Bauer puts on the sound like paint. He knows, as Romain Rolland has
-said, that every art tends to become a universe in itself; that music
-becomes painting and poetry, that painting becomes music, etc. And Bauer
-is not a genius. He has merely suggested what will happen to the piano,
-and paved the way for an openness of mind about it. He has made a good
-many people gossip of how his scales won’t compare with those of the
-other great ones; but he has made a good many more suspect that there
-has been something lacking in the ultimatums of the piano athletes. He
-has done many simple and dynamic things to bring the piano into its own.
-
-But the full achievement of this will go beyond what has been heard yet
-anywhere; and the man who does it will be scorned as the greatest fool
-or madman of his time before it is fully understood. It doesn’t matter.
-The thing will happen—I hardly know how. I hardly even know words with
-which to tell what it will be like. It can only be told on the piano.
-
-In his _Spiritual Adventures_ Arthur Symons has a story of a musician
-who says more true things about the piano than I have ever found
-anywhere else. One of them is this: “Most modern music is a beggar for
-pity. The musician tries to show us how he has suffered and how hopeless
-he is. He sets his toothache and his heartache to music, putting those
-sufferings into the music without remembering that sounds have their own
-agonies which alone they can express in a perfect manner.” This is where
-the “lions and panthers of the piano” have failed most: they have not
-loved the sounds enough. They have not allowed each sound its full life.
-This is the real reason why the piano has stopped short of itself. They
-might almost as well have played bells. You can strike bells which will
-bring out any number of tunes, loud or soft, with every possible variety
-of phrasing. _But your interest will be in the tune rather than in the
-sound._ You can’t limit the piano to the tunes that can be played upon
-it. You don’t treat a violin that way, nor an organ. And of course you
-can register a piano almost as fully as an organ with the “stops” that
-are in the ends of your fingers. How fascinating it is, and how
-wonderful!
-
-But most piano recitals are like recitations—or some sort of performance
-on a school platform. Their beauty ends with the beauty of style,
-phrasing, finish, tone, taste. It is diction rather than music. It is
-science. Busoni is not a prophet; he is an orchestra. Hofmann loves
-style more than he does sound. Godowsky loves patterns more than sound.
-Gabrilowitsch loves delicate sounds intensely, but has no feeling for
-the sounds of great chords. Zeisler loves rhythm more than sound. And so
-on. Paderewski loves the piano. He is genius, pure and simple—though of
-course there is nothing less pure or simple. He may do what he
-likes—break sounds into bits, crack them like nuts. It doesn’t matter.
-He never fails to communicate a mood to the instrument—the mood of his
-personal equation. And that is art. “Przybyszewski playing Chopin”—that
-would also be art. What have the excellent piano concerts you hear to do
-with art, with inspiration? Piano playing is certainly something to be
-surpassed. Music is the thing! And that means ecstasy, madness,
-divinity,—the beauty upon which all the ends of the world are come. The
-design of sound.... Each sound that comes out of the piano is something
-alive....
-
- * * * * *
-
-And now for the interesting part.
-
-When I talk of the “new music”—which will be different from Debussy and
-Schönberg and all the rest of them—I am not talking of how far beyond
-the limits of known harmony, or the anarchy which disregards any
-harmonic system, we shall go. Undoubtedly, as far as all that is
-concerned, “some day some one will dig down to the roots and turn up
-music as it is before it is tamed to the scale.” This seems to me a
-settled fact. But I am much more interested in the piano itself and the
-deliverer who is to set it free from the lie which has grown up around
-it and make it vibrate to a truer color. It is all in the plane of
-vibration, I believe. It will come about in three ways: through the
-mechanical development of the piano, through a new type of music, and
-chiefly through the new type of pianist.
-
-You will have your Mason and Hamlin—(this is not advertising; it is
-merely a conviction)—you will have that great dark-winged-victory
-standing alone on a stage; you will care a great deal about the color of
-the light around and above it—the tones of the walls within which your
-beautiful sounds are to live; you will touch that ivory and ebony—oh,
-there are no words! You will _see_ those sounds against the color....
-
-You may write a program for your audience—something like this:
-
- I believe the right technical approach is simply a different are
- the most beautiful there are anywhere in the world—more beautiful
- than the wind in trees or the moan in the sea or the silence that
- is heard on deserts;
-
- I believe that these sounds live only by a certain magic of
- invocation. There are no rules for them—unless perhaps you want
- to read Bergson.
-
- I believe the right technical approach is simply a different kind
- of friendship—or love affair—with each sound.
-
- I believe that tone goes way beyond the range between pianissimo
- and fortissimo, between legato and staccato, etc. Tone is
- radiance, eagerness, light, darkness, devastation, something that
- melts, something that cries and burns, something that shatters.
-
- I do not believe in playing “programs”—ending with a blaze of
- Liszt. I couldn’t play the _Campanella_ to save my life, but I
- don’t see that it matters.
-
- I do not believe in “program” music—beginning with Bach (now that
- the public has learned to applaud him) and ending with Liszt. I
- couldn’t play the _Campenella_ to save my life, but I don’t see
- that it matters.
-
- I do not believe in nature music—babbling brooks and warbling
- birds. I believe in nature mood, just as I do in the mood of all
- great phenomena.
-
- The music I have made will be sometimes merely the curve of a
- mood—like the curve of line in Watts’s _Orpheus and Eurydice_; or
- merely the design of a color or a scent. But always it will keep
- close to two fundamentals: that “hard gemlike flame” and the
- rhythm of sex.
-
-All this will come under the classification of those things which are so
-worth knowing that they can never be taught. It will belong to that
-individual who can say the new word—his own word. It will make the piano
-something we have scarcely dreamed of. It will make up an art that has
-nothing to do with the four walls of a room. It could not be set to
-“Questions and Answers” in _The Ladies’ Home Journal_. It will have
-little to do with accomplishment, but everything to do with that which
-is of all things the highest manifestation of life.
-
-
-
-
- Blue-Prints
-
-
- HARRIET DEAN
-
-
- Debutante
-
-You are a faded shawl about the shoulders of your mother. A puff of wind
-catches at your fluttering edge to jerk you away. But she draws you
-close, growing cold in the warm young breeze. She holds you with her
-shiny round pin, as all young ones are clasped to old by round things
-grown shiny with age.
-
-In your wistful tired eyes I see the trembling of her shawl as she
-breathes.
-
-
- The Pillar
-
- When your house grows too close for you,
- When the ceilings lower themselves, crushing you,
- There on the porch I shall wait,
- Outside your house.
- You shall lean against my straightness,
- And let night surge over you.
-
-
-
-
- The Pathos of Proximity[1]
-
-
- ALEXANDER S. KAUN
-
- [1] _The Works of Oscar Wilde in 13 volumes. Ravenna edition. New
- York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons._
-
-Pull down the shades. Turn out the lights. So. We do not want loud
-electricity. We shall have a jewelled light. For I am rich to-night.
-Come, let us recline on Bagdad cushions and Teheran rugs (“Only savages
-sit”, Mme. Zinovyeva, the Russian Lesbian, told us), and I shall scatter
-over the fantastic patterns jewels and stones. How softly they illumine
-the thick dark—these varicolored glowflies, these streams of wine,
-emerald wine, and amethyst wine, and wine of topazes “yellow as the eyes
-of tigers, and topazes pink as the eyes of a wood pigeon, and green
-topazes that are as the eyes of cats”, and wine of opals “that burn
-always with an icelike flame”, and wine of onyxes that are like “the
-eyeballs of a dead woman”, and wine streams of sapphires and chrysolites
-and rubies and turquoises and ambers and pearls.... I am rich to-night,
-and we shall bathe our eyes in quivering rainbows, and our fingers shall
-wander lightly through dimly-jewelled ripples, stirring up old visions,
-exotic unhuman faces, enchanting monsters, dancing rhythmic words,
-fantastic moonlit thoughts.
-
- What songless tongueless ghost of sin crept through the
- curtains of the night?
-
-“In exquisite raiment, and to the delicate sound of flutes, the sins of
-the world are passing in dumb show before us. Things that we have dimly
-dreamed of are suddenly made real. Things of which we have never dreamed
-are gradually revealed.”
-
- Lift up your large black satin eyes which are like cushions
- where one sinks!
- Fawn at my feet, fantastic Sphinx, and sing me all your memories!
-
-A symphony of memories. A life as brilliant and as swift as a meteor. A
-life of no shadows. Sun and flowers. A continuous rainbow. An Apollonian
-race over iridescent rose-and-azure-clouds. A sudden plunge over hideous
-precipice. The song broken. Yet the chord vibrates.
-
-Uneasiness. The moon filters through the stained embrasure.
-
- Regardez la lune ... On dirait une femme qui sort d’un tombeau.
- Elle ressemble à une femme morte. On dirait qu’elle cherche des
- mortes.
-
- ... Elle ressemble à une petite princesse qui porte un voile
- jaune, et des pieds d’argent. Elle ressemble à une princesse qui
- a des petites colombes blanches.... On dirait qu’elle danse.
-
- ... On dirait une femme hystérique, une femme hystérique qui va
- cherchant des amants partout. Elle est nue aussi. Elle est toute
- nue. Les nuages cherchent à la vêtir, mais elle ne veut pas. Elle
- chancelle à travers les nuages comme une femme ivre....
-
- ... Cachez la lune! Cachez les étoiles!
-
-No, it is not the moon that causes the uneasiness. It is that Egyptian
-scarabæus in lapis lazuli that bedims the scattered jewels and enveils
-me in sadness. An image beckons to me out of the ultramarine glimmer, an
-image of a king, a lord, possessor of a golden tongue and of a
-scintillating mind, yet an image repulsive in its carnal vulgarity, its
-dull inexpressive eyes, its fat jowl, its unreserved mouth. On a stout,
-democratic finger guffaws the scarabæus.
-
- * * * * *
-
-Lights! Turn on the lights.
-
-I have been sybariticizing with thirteen beautiful little volumes of
-Oscar Wilde, recently published by G. P. Putnam’s Sons. It is a useful,
-although often painful, ordeal—ventilating the store-room of your old
-gods. There was a time when I worshipped Wilde unqualifiedly. As a
-freshman I wrote a pathetic paper in which I demanded the canonization
-of the author of _De Profundis_. Alas, I have come to discern spots on
-the sun.
-
-As a decorative artist Wilde has no flaws. The perfect design applied in
-his multifarious productions makes one compare him to the titans of the
-High Renaissance: Nihil tetigit quod non ornavit. The graceful form
-justifies even his obvious moral-fairy-tales, even his unoriginal,
-Keats-esque and Poe-esque poems. It is for the style that we accept his
-_De Profundis_, that insincerest attempt for sincerity. But Wilde strove
-for more than mere external artistic effect. In his critical essays he
-lifted the critic to the heights of co- and re-creation, and instructed
-him to demand from a work of art eternal values. “The critic rejects
-those obvious modes of art that have but one message to deliver and
-having delivered it become dumb and sterile, and seeks rather for such
-modes as suggest reveries and moods and by their imaginative beauty make
-all interpretations true and no interpretation final.” We, his disciples
-in aesthetic valuations, come to our master with his own criterion, and
-find him on more than one occasion grievously wanting in the
-requirements that he had set up for the artist. He either has no message
-to deliver, as in his clever plays, or he delivers his message in such
-an outspoken way that no field is left for suggestion or imaginative
-interpretation. He had transgressed Mallarmé’s maxim—“To name is to
-kill; to suggest is to create” not only in _The Ballad of Reading Gaol_,
-the work that belongs to the crushed, semi-penitent Wilde; he committed
-this unpardonable sin in his masterpiece, _Salomé_! That wonderful
-harmonious ghastliness, woven out of moods and motives, surcharged with
-suggestive tragedy and fatalism, suddenly breaks into a criminal
-vulgarity through the introduction of a “real” dead head, which drives
-away illusion and atmosphere, and strikes your nostrils with the odor of
-theatrical grease paint.
-
-The rehabilitation of Oscar Wilde was imposed upon the Anglo-Saxon world
-by the continent, especially by Germany, the expropriator of English
-geniuses, where the production of Wilde’s plays has rivalled in
-frequency those of Shakespeare. I know of a German pundit who chose as a
-topic for his doctor’s dissertations “The Influence of Pater on Oscar
-Wilde”. But continental depreciation is as fast as Anglo-Saxon
-appreciation is slow. Neue Zeiten, neue Vögel; neue Vögel, neue Lieder.
-European literature in recent decades has had more meteors than stars.
-Wilde’s flash is rapidly vanishing. You may call me a Cassandra, but I
-venture a prophecy that soon Wilde will find his peaceful place in
-American colleges alongside with Austen, Eliot, Meredith, etc.
-
-_Salomé_ will always remain one of the world’s great symphonies,—a
-symphony in which the motive of doom rends your soul from the first
-sound to the last. _Poems in Prose_ will never lose their charm as
-ivory-carved bits of ideal conversation—the art in which Wilde was
-supreme, the art that is almost unknown in this country where it is
-substituted by talk. His other works are doomed to be time’s victims.
-Not because they are worthless, but for the reason of their
-adaptability. One must be a prophet, a Nietzsche, who hurls his seeds
-over many generations, in order to endure. Wilde was aware of this
-danger, and he wished to be misunderstood, but he lacked the profundity
-for such a merit. He did not mirror his age; but he had realized the
-potentialities of his age, had popularized them to such a degree that
-they have become the possession of the crowd. We are not any longer
-dazzled by the clever witticisms in his _Plays_; they have become almost
-commonplace. Even the graceful, radiating _Intentions_ appear to us
-somewhat obvious. Why?—It is the pathos of proximity! Wilde’s paradoxes,
-_mots_, theories, have proven so appropriate, adaptable, and digestible
-for our age, that it took only one decade to absorb them into our blood
-and marrow. Cleverism for the sake of cleverism has come to be an
-epidemic in our days; cleverists find Wilde an inexhaustible source for
-parasitic exploitation. Our Hunekers (and under this appellative I have
-in mind the legions of our omniscient boulevardiers-critics) don a
-Wildesque robe, and have little trouble in passing as genuine before the
-good-natured public. Unfortunately the constitution of the Hunekers is
-too weak to absorb Wilde’s big truths; they prefer the digestible chaff.
-
-Adaptability spells forgetability. Crime and punishment.
-
-
-
-
- Solitude
-
-
- DAVID O’NEIL
-
- Youth!
- If there be madness
- In your soul,
- Go to the mountain solitudes
- Where you can grow up
- To your madness.
-
-
-
-
- The Novelist
-
-
- SHERWOOD ANDERSON
-
-The novelist is about to begin the writing of a novel. For a year he
-will be at the task and what a year he will have! He is going to write
-the story of Virginia Borden, daughter of Fan Borden, a Missouri river
-raftsman. There in his little room he sits, a small, hunched-up figure
-with a pencil in his hand. He has never learned to run a type-writer and
-so he will write the words slowly and painfully, one after another on
-the white paper.
-
-What a multitude of words! For hours he will sit perfectly still,
-writing madly and throwing the sheets about. That is a happy time. The
-madness has possession of him. People will come in at the door and sit
-about, talking and laughing. Sometimes he jumps out of his chair and
-walks up and down. He lights and relights his pipe. Overcome with
-weariness he goes forth to walk. When he walks he carries a heavy
-walking stick and goes muttering along.
-
-The novelist tries to shake off his madness but he does not succeed. In
-a store he buys cheap writing tablets and, sitting on a stone near where
-some men are building a house, begins again to write. He talks aloud and
-occasionally fingers a lock of hair that falls down over his eyes. He
-lets his pipe go out and relights it nervously.
-
-Days pass. It is raining and again the novelist works in his room. After
-a long evening he throws all he has written away.
-
-What is the secret of the madness of the writer? He is a small man and
-has a torn ear. A part of his ear has been carried away by the explosion
-of a gun. Above the ear there is a spot, as large as a child’s hand,
-where no hair grows.
-
-The novelist is a clerk in a store in Wabash Avenue in Chicago. When he
-was a quite young man he began to clerk in the store and for a time
-promised to be successful. He sold goods, and there was something in his
-smile that won its way into all hearts. How he liked the people who came
-into the store and how the people liked him!
-
-In the store now the novelist does not promise to be successful. There
-is a kind of conspiracy in the store. Although he tries earnestly he
-continues to make mistakes and all of his fellows conspire to forgive
-and conceal his mistakes. Sometimes when he has muddled things badly
-they are impatient and the manager of the store, a huge, fat fellow with
-thin grey hair, takes him into a room and begins to scold.
-
-The two men sit by a window and look down into Wabash Avenue. It is
-snowing and people hurry along with bowed heads. So much do the novelist
-and the fat grey-haired man like each other that the scolding does not
-last. They begin to talk and the hours pass. Presently it is time to
-close the store for the night and the two go down a flight of stairs to
-the street.
-
-On the corner stand the novelist and the store-manager, still talking.
-Presently they go together to dine. The manager of the store looks at
-his watch and it is eight o’clock. He remembers a dinner engagement with
-his wife and hurries away. On the street car he blames himself for his
-carelessness. “I should not have tried to reprimand the fellow,” he
-says, and laughs.
-
-It is night and the novelist works in his room. The night is cold and he
-opens a window. There is, in his closet, a torn woolen jacket given him
-by a friend, and he wraps the jacket about him. It has stopped snowing
-and the stars are in the sky.
-
-The talk with the store-manager has inflamed the mind of the novelist.
-Again he writes furiously. What he is now writing will not fit into the
-life-story of Virginia Borden but, for the moment, he thinks that it
-will and he is happy. Tomorrow he will throw all away, but that will not
-destroy his happiness.
-
-Who is this Virginia Borden of whom the novelist writes and why does he
-write of her? He does not know that he will get money for his story and
-he is growing old. What a foolish affair. Presently there may be a new
-manager in the store and the novelist will lose his place. Once in a
-while he thinks of that and then he smiles.
-
-The novelist is not to be won from his purpose. Virginia Borden is a
-woman who lived in Chicago. The novelist has seen and talked with her.
-Like the store-manager she forgot herself talking to him. She forgot the
-torn ear and the bald spot where no hair grew and the skin was snow
-white. To talk with the novelist was like talking aloud to herself. It
-was delightful. For a year she knew him and then went away to live with
-a brother in Colorado where she was thrown from a horse and killed.
-
-When she lived in Chicago many people knew Virginia Borden. They saw her
-going here and there in the streets. Once she was married to a man who
-was leader of an orchestra in a theater but the marriage was not a
-success. Nothing that Virginia Borden did in the city was successful.
-
-The novelist is to write the life-story of Virginia Borden. As he begins
-the task a great humbleness comes over him. Tears come into his eyes. He
-is afraid and trembles.
-
-In the woman who talked and talked with him the novelist has seen many
-strange, beautiful, unexpected little turns of mind. He knows that in
-Virginia Borden there was spirit that, but for the muddle of life, might
-have become a great flame.
-
-It is the dream of the novelist that he will make men understand the
-spirit of the woman they saw in the streets. He wants to tell the
-store-manager of her and the little wiry man who has a desk next to his
-own. In the Wabash Avenue store there is a woman who sits on a high
-stool with her back to the novelist. He wants to tell her of Virginia
-Borden, to make her see the reality of the woman who failed, to make all
-see that such a woman once lived and went about among the women of
-Chicago.
-
-As the novelist writes events grow in his mind. His mind is forever
-active and he is continually making up stories about himself. As the
-Virginia Borden whom men saw was a caricature of the Virginia Borden who
-lived in the mind of the novelist, so he knows that he is himself but a
-shadow of something very real.
-
-And so the novelist puts himself into the book. In the book he is a
-large, square-shouldered man with tiny eyes. He is one who came to
-Chicago from a village in Poland and was leader of an orchestra in a
-theatre. As the orchestra leader the novelist married Virginia Borden
-and lived in a house with her.
-
-You see the novelist wants to explain himself also. He is a lover and so
-vividly does he love that he has the courage to love even himself. And
-so it is the lover that sits writing and the madness of the writer is
-the madness of the lover. As he writes he is making love. Surely all can
-understand that!
-
- Because sexual love is the most useful and common type of
- excitement we are apt to think it necessary to life, when the
- truth is that it is excitement itself which is life’s
- essential.—_Rebecca West._
-
-
-
-
- Asperities
-
-
- MITCHELL DAWSON
-
-
- Threat
-
- If you should come into my cave
- Bringing molded beads of sunlight
- For offering—
- I would trample your beads
- And crush you
- With that great bone of darkness
- Which I have gnawed for years
- And which has left me
- Meagre as a gnarled root.
-
-
- In Passing
-
- One moment—
- Your friend
- Has squeezed great drops from you
- Upon his palette;
- With your color he has wrought—
- Masterpieces, you say?
- But the empty tube
- Grown flat in his hand,
- Will he hold it or pick up another,
- Your friend—
-
-
- Teresa
-
- Do you remember Antonino—
- Swift-winged, green in the sun?
- Into the snap-dragon throat of desire
- Flew Antonino.
- Snap!...
- The skeleton of Antonino has made
- A good husband, a good provider.
-
-
-
-
- Amy Lowell’s New Book
-
-
- F. S. FLINT
-
-Amy Lowell has sent me her book, _Six French Poets_,[2] who are: Emile
-Verhaeren, Albert Samain, Remy de Gourmont, Henri de Régnier, Francis
-Jammes, and Paul Fort; and it occurs to me that I must be her severest
-critic—are we not rivals? When, in the summer of 1914, before the war
-was dreamed of, she told me over her dinner-table of her intention to
-write this book and of the names of the poets she had chosen, I objected
-to Samain. Samain, I said, was exquisite, but not important; and he
-could only be read a few pages at a time without weariness. Stuart
-Merrill and Francis Vielé-Griffin, I went on, are both more considerable
-poets; and both are Americans; and since you insist on including Remy de
-Gourmont as one of your poets, you might increase your number to seven,
-in many ways an appropriate number where poets are concerned; and so on.
-But she only motioned the waiter to fill my glass with champagne; and
-what can a man do against such argument and such a will? And now, even
-if I wished to damn her book (I do not), she will have already heaped
-coals of fire upon my head in her preface, where she says kind things
-about me because I happened to mention the names of one or two books to
-her, information she did not really need.
-
- [2] _Six French Poets, by Amy Lowell. New York: Macmillan
- Company._
-
-Miss Lowell states that she has “made no attempt at an exhaustive
-critical analysis of the various works” of her poets. “Rather, I have
-tried to suggest certain things which appear to the trained poet while
-reading them. The pages and pages of hair-splitting criticism turned out
-by erudite gentlemen for their own amusement has been no part of my
-scheme. But I think the student, the poet seeking new inspiration, the
-reader endeavoring to understand another poetic idiom, will find what
-they need to set them on their way.” That is so: this book contains six
-causeries in which Miss Lowell tells you why she loves these poets, and
-what she loves about them, interrupting her talk every now and then to
-read some poem to you which illustrates her meaning, introducing every
-now and then a fragment of biography to correspond with the stage of the
-poet’s work to which she has brought you, or stopping every now and then
-to pick out rare phrases and rare music of words for your especial
-delight. No one, I suppose, will have listened to Miss Lowell’s causerie
-in so happy a setting as the sitting-room on the third floor of a hotel
-in Piccadilly in which she talked to us in the August of 1914. Through
-the long French window open in the corner could be seen the length of
-Piccadilly, its great electric globes, its shining roadway, and, on the
-left, the tops of the trees of Green Park, dark grey in the moonlight;
-the noise of the motorbusses and of the taxis reached us in a muted
-murmur, and at the corner of the park opposite, beneath a street lamp,
-stood a newsboy, whose headlines we strained our eyes from time to time
-to catch. It was in this tenseness created by the expectation of news
-that Miss Lowell read Paul Fort and Henri de Régnier to us (she reads
-French beautifully); and it is the emotion of those evenings, more than
-anything else, that her book brings back to me. This is not criticism, I
-know; but I am a critic displumed. I have quoted Miss Lowell’s statement
-of her aims; let me now give my impression of what she has done. You can
-take up her book, and read it from beginning to end without weariness or
-boredom; you will be continually interested, continually delighted,
-continually moved. Miss Lowell’s method of quoting whole poems and long
-poems as well as detached and beautiful fragments has filled her book
-with an emotional content that almost makes me afraid to open it; the
-fear of too much beauty. And, finally, she has flattered the sense of
-personal superiority in us all by allowing little slips to remain where
-we may find them, and preen ourselves on our cleverness. When you have
-absorbed all these sensations, you will have come to Appendix A, which
-is 140 pages of the finest translations into English that exist of the
-six poets in question, or, it might truly be said, of the French poets
-of the symbolist generation. In these translations, Miss Lowell has
-rarely been tempted away from prose, and you have only to compare her
-work with the work of other translators to be immediately aware of how
-much she has gained by her prudence, her artistry had better be said.
-That Miss Lowell had all the equipment for a task of this kind, her own
-two books of poems left no doubt at all. In them you will find the same
-delight in beautiful word and phrase which has undoubtedly led her to
-modern French poetry as to a friendly country, and to the achievement in
-these translations. If she had done nothing more than just publish
-these, she would have earned our gratitude; but she offers them to you
-as the least of her book (as an appendix!) after you have been amused,
-interested, instructed and moved. I can conceive of no greater
-pleasure—my pleasure in the book is of a different kind—than that of the
-lover of poetry who reads in Miss Lowell’s book about modern French
-poetry for the first time; it must be like falling into El Dorado. I
-should add that the book contains an excellent signed photograph of each
-poet.
-
-
-
-
- The Picnic
-
-
- MARJORIE SEIFFERT
-
- Here they come in pairs, carrying baskets,
- Pale clerks with brilliant neckties and cheap serge suits
- Steering girls by the arm, clerks too,
- Pretty and slim and smart
- Even to yellow kid boots, laced up behind.
-
- They take the electric cars far into the country;
- They descend, gaily chattering, at the Amusement Park.
- Under the trees they eat the lunch they have carried—
- Potato salad and boiled sausages, cream puffs, pretzels, warm beer.
-
- They ride in the roller-coaster, two in a seat—
- Glorious danger, warm delicious proximity!
- The unaccustomed beer floods their veins like heady wine,
- And smothered youth awakens with shrill screams of joy.
-
- The sun sets, and evening is drowned in electric lights;
- Arm in arm they wander under the trees
- Everywhere meeting others wandering arm in arm
- In the same wistful wonder, seeking they know not what.
- They have left the park and the crowds, the stars shine out,
- A river runs at their feet, behind them a leafy copse,
- Away on the other shore the fields of grain
- Lie sleeping peacefully in the starlight.
- Tonight the world is theirs, a legacy
- From those who lived familiar friends with river, field and forest—
- Their forebears—
- Through the night the same earth-magic moves them
- That swayed those ancient ones, long dead—
- And these, too, lean and drink,
- Drink deeply from the river, the flowing river of life.
-
- Slowly they return to the crowds and the brilliant lights,
- Dazzled they look aside, silently climb on the cars—
- They cling to the swaying straps, weary, inert, confused.
- The lurching car makes halt, they are thrown in each other’s arms,—
- Alien and unmoved they sway apart again,—
- The car moves on through the fields and suburbs back to the town.
-
- They leave the car in pairs, the picnic baskets
- Rattling dismally plate and spoon and jar.
- Each clerk takes his girl to her lodgings in awkward silence,
- Indeed their eyes have not met since by the river
- Those wondrous moments
- Linked them to earth and night, not to each other.
- They look askance,—“Good-night”—the front door closed.
- They do not meet again except by chance.
-
-
-
-
- Editorials and Announcements
-
-
- _Wanted: Some Imaginative Reason_
-
-“Nietzsche was an individualist, a hater of the State and of the
-Prussians, a sick man, a great artist in words to be read with delight
-and—your tongue in your cheek.” This is from John Galsworthy’s “Second
-Thoughts on this War” in the January _Scribner’s_. And so it goes on: he
-identifies Nietzsche with the new German philosophy (which the poor man
-would have hated as he did Prussianism), he talks of the Will to Power
-and the Will to Love as two forces at opposite poles (quite in the
-manner of the Chestertons), and he derides Shaw’s clear-headed
-understanding that there is no real struggle of ideals involved in the
-war as the statement of a brilliant intellect with “no flair, no
-feelers, none of that instinctive perception of the essence and
-atmosphere of things which is a so much surer guide than reason.” These
-things are heart-breaking. If the artists can not understand the
-prophets of their time why should we expect the masses to do so?
-
-
- _“Homo Sapiens” Is Obscene!_
-
-Anthony Comstock’s successor, John Sumner, has arrested Alfred Knopf for
-publishing Przybyszewski’s _Homo Sapiens_. It was suggested that
-magistrate Simms read the book before passing judgment. The assistant
-district attorney protested that “no such cruel punishment be imposed on
-the court”; but Mr. Simms promised to try it.
-
- * * * * *
-
-_P. S._ Since writing the above something has happened which my brain
-still refuses to believe. I have just been told that Mr. Knopf has
-pleaded “guilty” to this asinine charge, in order to avoid the expense
-and the publicity, and that _Homo Sapiens_ will no longer be circulated
-in this country. If it is true it is the most inexcusably ridiculous
-thing that has happened for many months. It is incredible!
-
-
- “_The World’s Worst Failure_”
-
-Read Rebecca West’s brilliant articles in _The New Republic_.
-
-
- _Margaret Sanger and the Issue of Birth Control_
-
-Nothing makes me so positively ill as the average radical. The average
-conservative is a ghastly figure, but at least he is true to type. The
-average radical is a person who professes to believe something that he
-does not believe. If he did, he would be in trouble. No one gets into
-more involuntary trouble than the splendid fools who think they can do
-quite simply what they believe in, and who proceed to do it.
-
-Margaret Sanger’s trial is set for the twenty-fourth of this month. She
-is under three indictments, based on twelve articles, eleven of which
-are for _printing the words_—“prevention of conception.” It is these
-words which are regarded as “lewd, lascivious, and obscene.”
-
-Many “radicals” have advised Mrs. Sanger that the wisest thing to do is
-to plead guilty to this “obscenity” charge and to throw herself upon the
-mercy of the court—which would mean that she could get off with a light
-sentence or a small fine. And what would become of her object, which has
-been to remove the term “prevention of conception” from this section of
-the penal code, where it has been labelled as filthy, vile, and obscene?
-No revolution has ever been started by evasion. No one wants Margaret
-Sanger to be a martyr. _The point is that every one must see to it that
-she is not made a martyr._ There is no other way out of these issues.
-You can’t really believe in a thing without knowing that some time you
-will have to fight for it. Margaret Sanger is taking the stand that her
-type always takes—just because it is the type that insists on believing
-hard. _We_ should do all the rest. If you will wire your protest to the
-District Attorney, office of U. S. Marshal, Post Office Building, New
-York City, it will help. You may write Margaret Sanger, or send
-contributions to her, care of Ethel Byrne, 26 Post Avenue, New York
-City. Please, please do it!
-
-
- _The Russian Literature Group_
-
-The introductory lecture, which took place January 14 and was rather
-well attended, will be followed by a series of talks on characteristic
-features in Russian literature. The pivots of the discussion will be
-Pushkin, Lermontov, Gogol, Turgenev, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, and the
-moderns. Mr. Kaun presents the point of view of a Russian, not that of a
-foreign student.
-
-The next lecture will be Friday, February 11, at 8:30 P. M., in room
-612, Fine Arts Building.
-
-
-
-
- American Art
-
-
- (An Indefinite Comment)
-
-I report, without regret, my inability to present a definite article
-about the Annual Exhibit of American Painters and Sculptors. Not that
-the exhibit is vague—American art is a definite thing: travelling
-collections, annual exhibits, “friends” and organizations have made it
-so. But visit after visit left me without words. The feelings I did have
-were alternately those of amusement, anger, disgust, indifference, mild
-excitement, and most of the time: “Oh well, what’s the use?”
-
-In this exhibit the only thrills or “artiste emotions”—such as one
-demands of art—were very minor notes and immediately they were
-felt—thump! (Register amazement and then anger.) You come across
-something good: its neighbors and surroundings deaden its appeal. Thus,
-Massonovich’s _Moon-Dark_—poet’s magic! But alas! it is the only
-landscape in the exhibit. Next to it is Oliver D. Grover’s Italian
-platitude, near it a Redfield—“blast” his “school” of landscapes,
-please, someone! Peyraud, Stacey, Butler—oh, what emptiness! The Inness
-Room cuts into the exhibit separating two rooms from the rest of the
-galleries. Passing through it one is reminded of the Inness
-tradition—how it has been ignored! Or at least how his spirit has been
-ignored. Monet, Renoir, Manet, and some other modern French are hanging
-elsewhere in the Institute; and then there is Whistler; and again recall
-Inness; Massonovich, on you rests the perpetuation, not of “American
-Landscape” but of that spirit we shall always be searching for in
-landscapes, if landscapes we must have. One parting remark about
-landscapes. Hayley Lever comes in for some praise and much scolding. He
-has a good color sense, but strength and virility in composition seem to
-be lacking. Recall what Jerome Blum has done and you will understand why
-this half-way person ought to be jolted.
-
-And the portraits. One of Katherine Dudley’s
-decorative-German-poster-“Every Week” cover-design-women, is now the
-property of the “Friends”—“American Art as it was in the early part of
-the twentieth century”. Yes, indeed, to represent it clearly to
-posterity you must include at least one of the numerous society
-dilettantes. However, Gordon Stevenson, Blows, Henri, and Davey as
-portrait painters are worth watching.
-
-And the rest of the show? Most of the exhibitors have been represented
-for years. Their pictures are all so familiar. Many of the paintings
-have appeared year after year. Birge Harrison has a rather atmospheric
-beach scene; Beal, Albright, Dougherty, Hassam, Sargent, Mary Cassatt,
-Symons, Ballin, Weir, Schofield. All are familiar and recognised in the
-Market Place. These people are standing still. I imagine they are old:
-grey without magnificence. And being haunted by the truth of that
-lingering statement that there is no such thing as an old _artist_—why,
-dare we say that they are _not_ artists?
-
-Sculptor? There is none.
-
-American Art?—To the Annual Exhibit, Ladies and Gentlemen, for a
-definite demonstration!
-
- “The Critic.”
-
-
-
-
- Photography
-
-
-“My, isn’t that real! Just as it really is! My dear, haven’t you often
-seen Grant Park just like that?—a little changed, of course.”... She who
-had spoken was considered not a high-brow but just a good normal
-cultured woman. Not being a fanatic about art, or anything else, for
-that matter, she knew absolutely what she was talking about. The thing
-she was talking about was a painting of Grant Park by Frank C. Peyraud
-looking east from the top of some Michigan Boulevard office building....
-It was indeed “real.” Peyraud’s one-man exhibit at the Art Institute
-shows him up for what he is—an imitator without imagination, a
-reproducer, a copyist of nature in her most obvious moods. Not an artist
-or a creator his landscapes are all “real,” “true-to-life” and they are
-all enjoyed.... The Public knows where the originals are and the
-association and comparison gives them pleasure and the artist fame....
-
- * * * * *
-
-“Oh, _how_ clever, and can’t you just hear the policemen, and the
-buggy-wheels and the bark of the dogs and the grind-organ! Oh, its just
-wonderful what they can do in music and with an orchestra. I _would_
-like to hear that played again!” A woman speaks—not the one referred to
-above but one who holds the same position in her set towards music as
-her friend towards “art” in her circle.... Of course, she can appreciate
-music, when it is so natural and real.... Carpenter is to be
-congratulated: the percussions are given a splendid and unusual chance
-to show their versatility—it is they, it seems to me, and they alone who
-benefit by this splendid display of music.
-
-“My dear, I just love Stevenson and you know, my dear, those places in
-his novels are _so_ real—you can just see them so plainly. Of course,
-I’ve never been in Scotland or England or France or, my dear, even in
-New York but really Stevenson is so descriptive, his stories are _so_
-gripping it really is as good as traveling. And I have a lovely new
-book,[3] just out with beautiful pictures and awfully dear binding,
-showing how the places Stevenson describes actually exist! You know this
-book amounts to a liberal education—it’s just the same as going abroad.
-I just adore places and scenes and travel in books—don’t you? And
-Stevenson,” she ended with a sigh, “is _so_ romantic.” Which reminds me
-of a line of the Intolerable Wilde’s in a letter from Reading—“I see
-that romantic surroundings are the worst surroundings possible for
-romantic writers.” ... “And, my dear, it brings Art so close to everyday
-life, does it not?—to have artists portray for us our everyday
-surroundings and show us how nice they are.”
-
- [3] _On the Trail of Stevenson by Clayton Hamilton._ _New York:
- Doubleday, Page and Company._
-
-Long, long ago one Woman spoke to an Artist—will her type _never_ become
-extinct?
-
-“But, Mr. Turner” (Artist; contemporary of John Ruskin) “I never saw
-such colors in a sky in all my life.”
-
-“My dear madam,” he returned, “don’t you wish you had?”
-
- —C. A. Z.
-
-
-
-
- Book Discussion
-
-
- A Brilliant Enemy
-
- _Modern Painting, by Willard Huntington Wright. New York: John
- Lane Company._
-
-It is a hard book. None of Clive Bell’s sunny cynicism, none of
-Kandinsky’s colorful musicalness; surely nothing in common with the
-watery ecstacies of our official Chicago modernist, Arthur Jerome Eddy.
-While reading the voluminous book I experienced an uneasy, an uncertain
-feeling in regard to the author: to hate him, or just to dislike him?
-Let me confess that when I turned over the last page I lowered my head
-in respect for a brilliant enemy.
-
-It is a hard book, brothers-dilettanti. It gives us a merciless
-thrashing, we who love without being able to state why and wherefore. We
-are ordered to go to school, children, to study chemistry and color, to
-approach a work of art as scientifically equipped as a surgeon venturing
-to operate on a human body. As a reward we are promised the bliss of
-unadulterated aesthetic emotion. Ah, that aesthetic emotion! For a time
-we believed that it was possible to grasp that slippery “blue bird” by
-following Clive Bell’s maxim on the significance of form. Alas, this
-theory is obsolete. Color itself should become form, proclaims Mr.
-Wright, and he quotes the manifesto of his beloved Synchromists: “In our
-painting color becomes the generating function. Painting being the art
-of color, any quality of a picture not expressed by color is not
-painting!”
-
-With a sigh of relief we reach the chapter on Synchromism. All art up to
-the year 1912 has been nothing but preliminary experimentation. In
-Rubens were consummated the aims of the old painters (beginning with the
-fifteenth century; the Primitives are dismissed as not deserving
-consideration)—organization and composition. The new cycle opens in the
-nineteenth century with Turner, Constable, and Delacroix, who experiment
-in naturalism. Manet introduces thematic freedom—not more. The
-Impressionists and Neo-Impressionists close the second, naturalistic,
-cycle, having enriched art with laborious investigations into the
-secrets of color in relation to light. All these have been but
-precursors forging weapons for the third and _last_ (!) cycle—the final
-purification of painting. Synchromism, of course. Of this last cycle
-Cezanne was—hear, Messieurs and Mesdames Questioners—the primitive!
-Still Cezanne and Matisse and Picasso ignored color as a generator of
-form, until two Americans, MacDonald-Wright and Russell, rent asunder
-the ultimate veil from purity and truth, and the new and final deity
-emanated from their canvasses, the unsurpassable Synchromism.
-
-There is so much truth in Mr. Wright’s statements, particularly in his
-negative statements, that we may disregard his fanatic credo. Who will
-deny that painting has been “a bastard art—an agglomeration of
-literature, religion, photography, and decoration”? Who will not approve
-of the efforts of modern painters to eliminate all extraneous
-considerations and make painting as pure an art as music? But why
-dogmatize again and anew? Why reduce creative art to scientific
-formulae, to mathematical calculations, to Procrustean standards? Why
-ridicule those who paint _comme l’oiseau chante_? Why belittle Kandinsky
-for his too-subjective symphonies? Why be so hard, Mr. Wright, so
-finite, so sententious, so encyclical? Why not have a little sense of
-humor, pray?
-
-
- Gorky’s Memories
-
- _My Childhood, by Maxim Gorky. New York: The Century Company._
-
-That Gorky is deteriorating has become a truism. Exaggerated as the
-importance of his early works has been, one could not deny their
-freshness, elementary adroitness, soulfulness. But the god-fire was soon
-exhausted in the none-too-deep spirit of the tramp-poet. He gave us the
-few good songs he knew about the life of the has-beens, and then went
-hoarse. The public, Hauptmann’s Huhn, is not irresponsible for Gorky’s
-false notes. Compel the canary to imitate the nightingale and the poor
-bird will lose her short, simple, pretty twitter, and rend her little
-heart with shrill ejaculations. I have in mind Gorky’s later dramas and
-stories.
-
-The book before me makes me think that Gorky has come to recognize his
-fallacy in attempting to treat subjects alien to his inherent capacity.
-At any rate in this case he is free from pretentiousness. His childhood
-memories are related simply, realistically, sans philosophizing, sans
-allegorizing. It is left for the reader to deduce the “moral” from the
-sordid panorama that is revealed before him, that malodorous dunghill
-swarming with human beings, whose crawling and writhing is called life.
-The book should have been much shorter; the super-abundance of details
-makes it Dreiserian or Bennetian.
-
-And here I should like to touch upon a sore which reviewers customarily
-do not discuss, for fear of _mauvais ton_. Why are the English
-translations so careless and comical? The book in question is full of
-such glaring errors, such nonsensical misunderstandings, such atrocious
-ignorance, that it has made me pull my hair in despair of solving the
-dilemma whether I should laugh at the comicalness or whether I should
-rage at the impertinence. I am quite sure that the translator (his name
-is not revealed) knows as much Russian as Percy Pinkerton, the crucifier
-of Artzibashev; he mutilated Gorky from a German translation, I suspect.
-The book has another jolly feature—illustrations. They are reproductions
-from popular Russian paintings, with inscriptions that are supposed to
-illustrate the text. The naive forgery is too crude and unskilful to
-mislead even the unsuspecting reader. Will the publishers ever acquire
-respect for the printed word?
-
-
- Instruction
-
- _The Greatest of Literary Problems, by James Phinney Baxter.
- Boston: Houghton Mifflin._
-
-Have you the sense of humor to guess which is the Problem? Shakespeare
-or Bacon! About seven hundred gigantic pages on this vital question,
-with illustrations and data. Are you curious to know who wins? I shall
-not tell. Why should the reader be spared the reviewer’s agony in wading
-through the bewildering labyrinth of speculations and arguments till he
-reaches ... the same point that he started from. Bon voyage!
-
-
- Instruction Plus
-
- _Tales from Old Japanese Dramas, by Asataro Miyamori. New York:
- G. P. Putnam’s Sons._
-
- _Some Musicians of Former Days, by Romain Rolland. New York:
- Henry Holland Company._
-
-These books, like the preceding one, are intended to be instructive;
-they attain their purpose, however, thanks to gracefulness of style and
-fascination of subject. Mr. Miyamori has condensed the plots of the most
-famous _joruri_—the epical dramas of the Yeddo period, which are to this
-day chanted in Japanese theatres. It is an exotic atmosphere of oriental
-fairyland, tapestries of childlike love and naive passion, of smiling
-bloody tragedies and blissful harakiris. When lovers are prevented from
-being married they do not employ the cumbersome process of elopment, but
-transport themselves into the other world by committing _shinju_ or
-double suicide. The author tells us that Metizahormach shinju dramas
-have had such powerful influence on the audiences that there have been
-numerous instances of lovers performing that delicious suicide after
-leaving the theatre. I fear that for the occidental reader the dramas
-will not prove as convincing—alas.
-
-After _Musicians of To-Day_ the last book of Rolland has little appeal.
-Journalistic notes, interesting information, brilliant suggestions—and
-we look in vain for the profound spirit of the old Romain.
-
-
- Hospitable Mr. Braithwaite
-
- _Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1915, by William Stanley
- Braithwaite. New York: Gomme and Marshall._
-
-Mr. Braithwaite has chosen the guests for his house party with kindly
-catholicity. Amy Lowell, John Gould Fletcher, and H. D. sit
-uncomfortably in his New England parlor eyeing one another furtively.
-Clement Wood clowns in a corner. Vachel Lindsay before the mantel-piece
-declaims to James Oppenheim and Louis Untermeyer, who listen with an air
-of importance. Edgar Lee Masters sits on the _corpus juris_ and
-meditates upon the beauties of silence. Sara Teasedale dances in the
-hallway. Harriet Monroe reclines on a porch chair, listening to the
-rain. A crowd in the library recreate themselves by reading from a set
-of British Poets. Percy MacKaye gloomily reads the war news to a group
-in the dining-room, while little Arvia, his daughter, lisps happily to
-herself. And alone in the kitchen is Robert Frost roasting chestnuts.
-
-Who will say that Mr. Braithwaite could have better performed the duties
-of host? Did he omit any of the “older established names”? And did he
-not make a special Cook’s tour to far off islands (not shown in the
-atlas of the _Boston Transcript_ office) for the purpose of bringing
-home with him certain “new discoveries”?
-
-Mr. Braithwaite pats his guests admiringly upon the back and regrets
-that there are other excellent poets for whom he has no accommodations.
-Ezra Pound, Richard Aldington, T. S. Eliot, D. H. Lawrence, Maxwell
-Bodenheim, perhaps he will invite you next time. Is it not a pleasant
-anticipation?
-
-
- Empty Souls
-
- _The Later Life, by Louis Couperus. New York: Dodd, Mead and
- Company._
-
-This is the second part of the tetralogy of “Small Souls” which began to
-appear in English last year. The slowly-developing epic is pregnant with
-promises, but, oh how slowly the skein unrolls. We are still in the
-midst of Dutch bourgeoisie, dull, stony-faced, petty, filthy; again the
-incessant rain, ever-cloudy skies, bicycle rides, large dinner-parties
-at Mama’s. Small souls. Last year I asked the question whether in
-depicting Dutch life Couperus could not find a single big soul, one
-interesting individual. This second book gives us pale glimmers of
-potentialities, very pale indeed. The big man is big only relatively; he
-has been in America, worked in factories, and is now ... lecturing on
-peace.
-
-The book introduces a feature that may interest the sexologist: frequent
-passionate love among near kinsmen. Two sisters are in love with their
-brothers. A romance between uncle and niece. The heroes and heroines are
-awakened to love for the most part at the dangerous age of forty. I
-recall that Przybyszewski presents in two of his works love between
-brother and sister. Shall we say that ideal sex-relationship requires
-the closest kinship of body and spirit? In the Pole’s lovers the force
-driving them together is the harmonious coincidence of two morbidly
-developed intellects with a common craving for beauty and fullness. In
-Couperus we face mutual yearning of small, pale, empty souls. But I am
-not interested in sex-problems, not yet.
-
- K.
-
-
- Two Points of View
-
- _Violette of Pere Lachaise, by Anna Strunsky Walling. New York:
- Frederic A. Stokes._
-
-A gigantic background—the eternal graves and trees and monuments of the
-old Paris cemetery. The rest is fudge. A mouse born out of the bowels of
-a mountain. Nauseating feminine sentimentalism. Boring talk, talk, talk.
-
- K.
-
-The reviewer above is absolutely mistaken about Mrs. Walling’s book, I
-believe. It is the story of one of those human beings—rare people—who
-live inner lives of extraordinary intensity. It is radiantly absorbing,
-to me.
-
- M. C. A.
-
-
-
-
- The Reader Critic
-
-
-_The Editor_:
-
-_We have had cancellations, congratulations, and a lot of indignant
-letters about Ben Hecht’s “Dregs.” I print two of them below. As it
-happens, these stories are among the best things_ THE LITTLE REVIEW _has
-printed. With the exception of some of the poetry and two stories of
-Sherwood Anderson’s, they may be listed as the only “literature” we have
-published. Some one has compared them to Gorky. But this is not a very
-accurate judgment. As a reviewer pointed out in the November issue,
-Gorky could feel his stories, could imagine them deeply, but he could
-never quite tell them. The supreme virtue of Ben Hecht’s “Dregs” is that
-he could tell them. That is the art. Of course I have nothing to say to
-those people who deplore Mr. Hecht’s subject matter and urge me to use
-some moral judgment in selecting things for_ THE LITTLE REVIEW. _There
-is no such thing as moral judgment in literature. There should be no
-such thing in life, but unfortunately_—
-
-_A Sorrowful Friend_:
-
-THE LITTLE REVIEW: _Literature, Drama, Music, Art_. Which of these four
-shrines did you intend to desecrate in offering Ben Hecht’s “Dregs”? Or
-have you added an “unwritten” class to your list, comprehensive enough
-to include such bold portrayals of viciousness and filth, of
-licentiousness and lust, as these three degenerate—manifestations!
-
-LITTLE REVIEW—how _could_ you do it? You who have hitherto held so
-bravely to the tenets of beauty and truth in thought and expression,
-held to them courageously through storms of adverse criticism, consent
-to print descriptions of the bestial abnormalities of the scum of
-mankind! If _you_, who profess to look to a higher, better realization
-of life, consent to crawl in the gutter with the vermin, what can we
-expect of the lesser publications?
-
-You have polluted an edition of your magazine; it is true that flames
-will destroy the manuscript, but what of the hideous memory that
-remains? Take heed—LITTLE REVIEW; remember that cleanliness is akin to
-godliness and—look to your soul!
-
-_Florence Kiper Frank, Chicago_:
-
-May I call your attention to the fact that Mr. Edward J. O’Brien, in his
-annual review of the year’s fiction, not only lists all the stories
-printed in THE LITTLE REVIEW during 1915 among those possessing
-“distinction,” but double-asterisks (verb) the three sketches of Ben
-Hecht’s published under the title “Dregs.” This in the chaste and
-genealogical Boston Evening Transcript! And, following to the best of my
-ability Mr. O’Brien’s rather vague reference to and nebulous listings of
-the stories to be published in his anthology, _The Best Stories of 1915
-and Year Book of American Fiction_, I can but come to the startled
-conclusion that Ben Hecht’s three stories are all to be reprinted in the
-estimable collection. Good for Ben Hecht, THE LITTLE REVIEW, and Mr.
-O’Brien’s catholicity of judgment! Some of us there are who like to have
-our opinions backed and bolstered by authority. And what more august
-authority than the printed word of Boston. Some of us—but of course not
-your insurgents. Perhaps Mr. Hecht will resent congratulations. I tender
-them, nevertheless—with apologies. Good stuff, Ben Hecht! Do us
-some—more of them.
-
-_Sada Cowan, New York_:
-
-I’m truly grateful to your reviewer who found my play, _The State
-Forbids_, “negative as literature.” If he had found it bad architecture
-or mediocre sculpture I should have been less pleased.
-
-Play making, to my mind, is not a form of literature (even though its
-medium chances to be words) but it is an art of spacing ... focusing ...
-building. Structure upon structure! Foundation. Ornament. Design. An art
-as distinct from other forms of word utility as color medium is from
-plastic art. Drama is related to literature only in so far as all arts
-are inter-related. No more than this. By drama I mean, of course, plays
-intended (at least in the writer’s mind) for production. These alone are
-plays. For one reason or another they may never reach the boards, but
-they must have lived in the writer’s fantasy as things produced. _Desk
-drawer dramas_ are not plays.
-
-I believe that the hope of the modern drama lies in the artist who can
-learn to look upon himself as a builder ... a _maker_ and not a writer
-of plays.
-
-And so again I thank your critic whose charity has made me feel that I
-am on the road which leads to “Somewhere.” Even though at the end of my
-journey I may not yet have reached the first mile stone.
-
-_Virginia York, Washington, D. C._:
-
-It is published in windy Chicago, THE LITTLE REVIEW. Claimed by
-management, editors and its readers to be the very, very last, last word
-in prose and poetry; it is sold at fifteen cents a copy. Normal-minded,
-healthy folk will find it cheap at that price, because normal-minded,
-healthy folk will find in it fifteen laughs for fifteen cents, despite
-the fact that it is entirely a serious publication.
-
-Years ago an editor sent me to the government hospital for the insane
-just outside Washington, to interview a certain man. As I passed into
-the building an elderly gentleman of profoundly respectful manner
-presented me with a neatly-bound pamphlet which he said he had written,
-edited and illustrated entirely by himself. Examining it later, the
-cover-page proved to be a mass of meaningless, whirling lines labeled in
-carefully printed letters, “The Croucher At The Door.” The reading
-matter was wholly unintelligible.
-
-A poet-friend has given me the October number of THE LITTLE REVIEW. The
-vers libre poetry in the small magazine might easily be called “The
-Croucher At The Door” for all the sense to be made of it. In fear and
-trembling that my own unworthy brain might finally have addled,
-relatives and friends were invited to peruse the contents of the volume.
-I thank heaven they could make nothing of it.
-
-One contribution entitled _Cafe Sketches_, by Arthur Davison Ficke, is
-herewith reprinted for the benefit of readers of this page who are
-denied access, and accompanying the laugh, to THE LITTLE REVIEW. Mr.
-Ficke, after telling in the first verse that he is in a cafe, surrounded
-by a “cortege of seven waiters,” mourning for a “boundlessly curious
-lady,” recites in mournful meanderings:
-
- Presently persons will come out
- And shake legs.
- I do not want legs shaken.
- I want immortal souls shaken unreasonably.
- I want to see dawn spilled across the blackness
- Like a scrambled egg on the skillet;
- I want miracles, wonders.
- Tidings out of deeps I do not know ...
- But I have a horrible suspicion
- That neither you
- Nor your esteemed consort
- Nor I myself
- Can ever provide these simple things
- For which I am so patiently waiting.
-
- Base people!
- How I dislike you!
-
-Maybe you think this is funny, but certainly it is not intended to be.
-Seriousness, thick, black, dense seriousness is the keynote of THE
-LITTLE REVIEW. This is vers libre with a vengeance. “Persons will come
-out and shake legs. I do not want legs shaken.” Here we have the spirit
-of the dance! It is quite evident Mr. Ficke does not wish joy to be
-unconfined.
-
-There have been many descriptions of dawn, probably none so unique as
-“the dawn spilled across the blackness like a scrambled egg on the
-skillet.” The second verse is short and to the point, but it is much to
-be thankful for both in point of length and the statement that we are
-abhorred.
-
-In order to restore our thoughts to something sane, to take away from us
-the taste of such gibberish, consider for a moment the following eight
-lines by Harriet Howe, recently published in THE LITERARY DIGEST.
-Comparison between the two authors is utterly impossible, totally
-unnecessary:
-
-
- SUNSET AFTER RAIN
-
- The cradle of the valley
- Is filled with floating mist,
- The summits of the mountains
- Are veiled in amethyst.
-
- The trees spread grateful branches
- Above a smiling sod,
- For thirsting slaked, for hunger fed,
- All things are praising God.
-
-_Huntly Carter, London_:
-
-The letter by C. Smith of Chicago, in the October issue of THE LITTLE
-REVIEW, is so phenomenally stupid and so intellectually dishonest that
-it is almost beneath notice. If I consent to notice it, I do so in order
-to warn Smithsonian understudies that they will be severely dealt with
-if they attempt to repeat Smith’s brazen offence of writing to a
-significant journal and coolly suggesting that a single and relatively
-unimportant wrong attribution is to be regarded as a fair and honest
-sample of the whole subject matter of an article occupying several pages
-and mainly devoted to a metaphysical explanation of the origin and
-nature of poetry. Furthermore, suggesting that I am applying to a poet
-(Browning) a rigid test of poetry, seeking to prove his words poetically
-good or bad by my poetical experience, when as a matter of fact I am
-offering certain words, some of which are wrongly attributed to
-Browning, as indisputable evidence that in venting the emotions
-versifiers find descriptive figures efficacious.
-
-No doubt some of the words flaunted by Smith are wrongly attributed to
-Browning. They are so wrongly attributed that anyone can see they are
-wrongly attributed. And any “sane, intelligent and decently responsible
-man” (to use Smith’s yellow press tautology) would have given me an
-opportunity of saying they are wrongly attributed before venturing to
-put on silly airs of hypercriticism. Then he would have learnt that the
-first and third line of the quotation belong oddly enough, to another
-piece of poetry, and have got mixed up with Browning’s stuff in some
-unaccountable way. I have not the least idea how the mix took place. All
-I know is that my article was finished off in great haste to catch the
-mail. It was sent in handscript and not typescript. And there was no
-time to send me a proof; otherwise the quotation would certainly have
-been corrected, and the many errors which now appear in my article would
-have disappeared. I feel I am justified in saying it was not my
-intention to send the words which have crept into print by the discovery
-that I have actually written down Browning’s very words. Here is
-Browning:
-
- And the sun looked over the mountain’s rim:
- And straight was a path of gold for him,
- And the need of a world of men for me.
-
-The first line of the verse is missing. The three lines however serve
-the purpose of my comparison. I had also set down these lines by
-Browning:
-
- One lyric woman in her crocus vest,
- Woven of sea-wools.
-
-I intended to include this with my quotations. For here in my view is a
-figure as original and precisely felicitous as anything the Imagists
-have given us.
-
-That this dragging in of some wrongly attributed words—so obviously
-wrong as to deceive no one—for the sole purpose of discrediting an
-important article is dishonest, is clear from the fact that Smith does
-not drag in any other quotation from the many given, nor produce any
-other evidence whatsoever in support of his contention that my article
-is inept and careless throughout. In fact he has nothing more damaging
-to offer than his own fatuous statement that he happens “to consider my
-article an ill-digested congeries of vague views”; which, when one comes
-to examine it is found to contain a baseless assertion and a clear
-admission that my article is above and beyond Smith’s head.
-
-As to the silliness of Smith’s letter, this may be judged from the
-following: Smith begins with the generalization that magazines die
-“whose pages are as a rule careless, inconsidered and inept” (note the
-repetition and consequent lack of thoroughness). The publications of the
-capitalist press answer this description. The news sheets, for instance,
-are rotten with carelessness, inconsideredness and ineptness. They would
-be rottener if they could. Yet they do not die. On the contrary they
-sell by the million. If so, then THE LITTLE REVIEW should sell by the
-million. But Smith says it will die. And Smith is a careful,
-serviceable, and accurate man.
-
-By way of comparison Smith relieves himself of this matchless
-composition. “Your magazine will die,—as a steam engine would grow
-useless in which no direction towards any cylinder was given to the
-indubitable forces generated in the boiler.” What is the precise meaning
-of this bombastic twaddle? In homely words, it means that a steam engine
-is (not “would grow”) useless when the steam power developed in its
-boiler is not utilised in any cylinder. Anyone who examines this analogy
-will agree with me that Smith is a careful, serviceable, and accurate
-man.
-
-From the general Smith comes to the particular and quotes what he is
-pleased to call an example of my “ineptitude and carelessness” as an
-example of the general “ineptitude and carelessness” of THE LITTLE
-REVIEW. Without knowing anything as to the circumstances under which the
-wrongly attributed words found their way into print, without stopping to
-inquire to what extent I contributed to the mistake, and upon no other
-evidence whatsoever than the said wrongly attributed words, he proceeds
-to saddle me with the astounding intention “to obliterate all sense of
-accuracy, all love of clear and rational communication, all fidelity to
-honest statement, and all interest in truth” (which makes four ways of
-uttering the same inverifiable statement).
-
-Finally Smith challenges the editor of THE LITTLE REVIEW to print his
-ghastly ineptitude. She has taken the short way and done so. It serves
-Smith right.
-
-_M. Silverman, Chicago_:
-
-Your last issue is a failure—with two exceptions, Miss Goldman’s article
-on “Preparedness” and Mr. Hecht’s letter. Both of them are human,
-understandable, and sincere. They shout—but do not roar. All the others
-are ostentatious, plebeian, and lack artistic restraint. They are not
-beautiful. They _holler_ and produce a sense of heaviness and
-overexertion. Sympathy and politeness are apparently the cardinal
-virtues of the highly esteemed editor. Hence this “democratic” hash.
-
-To be more specific: Your editorial, “Toward Revolution,” is the acme of
-nonsense. I tried to take you seriously but I couldn’t. It is
-pamphletory, and should have no place in THE LITTLE REVIEW.
-
-“The Ecstasy of Pain” is a stage hurricane, and, to paraphrase Mr.
-Goldbeck, it is like Chicago: vast, but not impressive. It lacks
-artistic touch and symmetrical wholeness. The fourth paragraph is
-excellent. The rest was unnecessary. The fragmentary mind of Mr. Kaun is
-phosphorescent, produces tiny sparks which are soon lost in the
-darkness. Higher mathematics is the best remedy for Mr. Kaun’s mind.
-
-“The Spring Recital” is a bore. The author of _The “Genius”_ seems to
-have a mania for torturing the innocent public. I read “The Spring
-Recital” twice, yes twice; and when I got through with it I felt
-extremely uncomfortable. I don’t understand it and it doesn’t mean
-anything to me. I challenge anyone to explain to me: What does this
-piece of “dramatic” “quatch” mean?
-
-All the other articles—well, they are harmless.
-
-_Woods Dargan, Darlington, S. C._:
-
-I enclose a check for $1.50, and ask that you enter my name for one
-year’s subscription—that is, if you will let one of the rabble creep in.
-Frankly, I know no more about art (with a capital A or otherwise) than a
-rabbit. I don’t even know what an “Imagist” is! And for the life of me I
-cannot understand why the temperamental, fussy gentleman named Alexander
-S. Kaun should not use a singular verb with a singular noun, just like
-ordinary people. But when he says, as he does in the first line of the
-fourth paragraph of his article, “the dearer a person or a thing _are_
-to me, etc.,” I know there must be intellectual purpose in it, some
-esoteric effect that gets to the cultured few but passes over my head;
-so I bow before the unknown beauty of it, thinking, “Odd, but no doubt
-it’s all right.”
-
-Also, to my untutored mind, the frequent use of profanity in an
-everyday, conversational way in two or three of the articles is amusing,
-and makes me wonder. It reminds me of the days when I first took up the
-art, and used to feel a shudder of delight when I ripped out a good,
-mouth-filling, “Damn it all to hell!” Perhaps it has lost its charm for
-me as a literary ornament because I swear so much myself, just as a
-matter of habit without deriving the oldtime pleasure from it.
-
-Other places where these boys put it all over me are in music and
-Russians. It is one of my secret sorrows that I know I know nothing
-about music. I like it, but it never occurs to me to fade away and fill
-an early grave if I hear somebody’s nocturne murdered—that is, if I know
-it is being murdered, which is highly unlikely. And as to the Russians,
-old Dostoevsky is my limit so far, but I’m game, and am going in for all
-the others,—the more gloomy and morbid the better.
-
-Then, there’s this Mr. Theodore Dreiser. As we say in this neck of the
-woods, in our uncouth manner, “He must be a bear-cat.” (By the way, I’d
-give a lot to know what “demiurge” means in the sense in which it is
-applied to him. Mr. Masters used it in _The New York Times_ some weeks
-ago, and now I find it again in Mr. Powys’ appreciation. I don’t know
-what they mean.) Well, I’ve had his book, _The “Genius,”_ for sometime,
-and mean to read it all as soon as I can get round to it. Perhaps I’ll
-know what “demiurge” means then—but I doubt it.
-
-For all that I have said I would not have you think that I am wholly
-lacking in soul. I have some things in common with these fellows, for I
-have no religion or morals, and I enjoy getting drunk, riotously,
-gloriously drunk, once or twice a year.
-
-And now, after telling you at more length than any decent person should
-what has puzzled me in your Review, permit me to say what I like. The
-first part of your own contribution, “Life Itself,” strikes me as the
-real thing. I understand all that, being a common person. For the last
-part, as I’ve said, I know nothing of art, and life doesn’t mean those
-things to me, naturally. But I like it. I can, after a fashion, see how
-it _might_ mean them. The review of Dreiser by Mr. Powys that I have
-mentioned already is good writing and good sense. How true it is, I am
-not yet in a position to guess. Then, Mr. Edgar Masters always writes
-vividly, deeply. I am glad to add “So We Grew Together” to what I know
-of his stuff. It is almost as good a portrait and short story as some of
-the best of the Anthology.
-
-That fellow Ben Hecht can write. Personally, I have a sort of leaning
-toward the dregs, but, as a general thing, I don’t know that there’s
-much use in writing about them just so. But he’s certainly good. He can
-write. I never heard of him before, but I shall look out for him in
-future.
-
-For the sake of what I find good I’m willing to put up with what I fail
-to grasp, and so I look forward to much pleasure and instruction from
-THE LITTLE REVIEW. Luck to it. As long as you, Miss Lowell, Mr. Masters,
-and Mr. Hecht contribute, so long will it be cheap at any price. And,
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- _The January-February Issue_
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- POETRY AND DRAMA
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- SEVEN SHORT PLAYS. By Lady Gregory. Contains the following plays
- by the woman who holds one of the three places of most importance
- in the modern Celtic movement, and is chiefly responsible for the
- Irish theatrical development of recent years: “Spreading the
- News,” “Hyacinth Halvey,” “The Rising of the Moon,” “The
- Jackdaw,” “The Workhouse Ward,” “The Traveling Man,” “The Gaol
- Gate,” together with music for songs in the plays and explanatory
- notes. Send $1.60.
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- THE MAN WHO MARRIED A DUMB WIFE. By Anatole France. Translated by
- Curtis Hidden Page. Illustrated. Founded on the plot of an old
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- THE GARDENER. By Rabindranath Tagore. The famous collection of
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- DOME OF MANY-COLORED GLASS. New Ed. of the Poems of Amy Lowell.
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- SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY. By Edgar Lee Masters. Send $1.35.
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- DREAMS AND DUST. A book of lyrics, ballads and other verse forms
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- SOME IMAGIST POETS. An Anthology. The best recent work of Richard
- Aldington, “H. D.,” John Gould, Fletcher, F. S. Flint, D. H.
- Lawrence and Amy Lowell. 83c, postpaid.
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- THE WAGES OF WAR. By J. Wiegand and Wilhelm Scharrelman. A play
- in three acts, dedicated to the Friends of Peace. Life in Russia
- during Russo-Japanese War. Translated by Amelia Von Ende. Send
- 95c.
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- THE DAWN (Les Aubes). A symbolic war play, by Emile Verhaeren,
- the poet of the Belgians. The author approaches life through the
- feelings and passions. Send $1.10.
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- CHILD OF THE AMAZONS, and other Poems by Max Eastman. “Mr.
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- poet of beautiful form and feeling.”—Wm. Marion Reedy. Send
- $1.10.
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- THE POET IN THE DESERT. By Charles Erskine Scott Wood. A series
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- Nature, Life and all phases of Revolutionary Thought. Octavo gray
- boards. Send $1.10.
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- CHALLENGE. By Louis Untermeyer. “No other contemporary poet has
- more independently and imperiously voiced the dominant thought of
- the times.”—Philadelphia North American. Send $1.10.
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- ARROWS IN THE GALE. By Arturo Giovannitti, introduction by Helen
- Keller. This book contains the thrilling poem “The Cage.” Send
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- SONGS FOR THE NEW AGE. By James Oppenheim. “A rousing volume,
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- AND PIPPA DANCES. By Gerhart Hauptmann. A mystical tale of the
- glassworks, in four acts. Translated by Mary Harned. Send 95c.
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- AGNES BERNAUER. By Frederick Hebbel. A tragedy in five acts. Life
- in Germany in 15th century. Translated by Loueen Pattie. Send
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- IN CHAINS (“Les Tenailles”). By Paul Hervieu. In three acts. A
- powerful arraignment of “Marriage a La Mode.” Translated by
- Ysidor Asckenasy. Send 95c.
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- SONGS OF LOVE AND REBELLION. Covington Hall’s best and finest
- poems on Revolution, Love and Miscellaneous Visions. Send 56c.
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- RENAISSANCE. By Holger Drachman. A melodrama. Dealing with studio
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- THE MADMAN DIVINE. By Jose Echegaray. Prose drama in four acts.
- Translated by Elizabeth Howard West. Send 95c.
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- TO THE STARS. By Leonid Andreyieff. Four acts. A glimpse of young
- Russia in the throes of the Revolution. Time: The Present.
- Translated by Dr. A. Goudiss. Send 95c.
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- PHANTASMS. By Roberto Bracco. A drama in four acts, translated by
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- THE HIDDEN SPRING. By Roberto Bracco. A drama in four acts,
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- THE DRAMA LEAGUE SERIES. A series of modern plays, published for
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- THE THIEF. By Henry Bernstein. (Just Out).
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- A FALSE SAINT. By Francois de Curel.
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- THE TRAIL OF THE TORCH. By Paul Hervieu.
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- MY LADY’S DRESS. By Edward Knoblauch.
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- A WOMAN’S WAY. By Thompson Buchanan.
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- THE APOSTLE. By Paul Hyacinthe Loyson.
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- DRAMATIC WORKS, VOLUME VI. By Gerhart Hauptmann. The sixth
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- THE DAWN (Les Aubes). A symbolic war play, by Emile Verhaeren,
- the poet of the Belgians. “The author approaches life through the
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- strenuousness of his people.” Send $1.10.
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- THE GREEK COMMONWEALTH. By Alfred A. Zimmern. Send $3.00.
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- EURIPIDES: “Hippolytus,” “Bacchae,” Aristophanes’ “Frogs.”
- Translated by Gilbert Murray. Send $1.75.
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- THE TROJAN WOMEN. Translated by Gilbert Murray. Send 85c.
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- ANCIENT GREEK LITERATURE. By Gilbert Murray. Send $2.10.
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- EURIPIDES AND HIS AGE. By Gilbert Murray. Send 75c.
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- VAGRANT MEMORIES. By William Winter. Illustrated. The famous
- dramatic critic tells of his associations with the drama for two
- generations. Send $3.25.
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- THE NEARING CASE. By Lightner Witmer. A complete account of the
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- THE ART OF THE MOVING PICTURE. By Vachel Lindsay. Send $1.60.
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- GLIMPSES OF THE COSMOS. A Mental Autobiography. By Lester F.
- Ward. Vol. IV. The fourth in the series of eight volumes which
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- EVERYMAN’S ENCYCLOPEDIA is the cure for inefficiency. It is the
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- Three Other Styles of Binding. Mail your order today.
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- NIETZSCHE. By Dr. Georg Brandes, the discoverer of Nietzsche.
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- WAR AND CULTURE. By John Cowper Powys. Send 70c.
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- SHATTUCK’S PARLIAMENTARY ANSWERS. By Harriette R. Shattuck.
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- FORTY THOUSAND QUOTATIONS. By Charles Noel Douglas. These 40,000
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- THE CRY FOR JUSTICE. An anthology of the literature of social
- protest, edited by Upton Sinclair. Introduction by Jack London.
- “The work is world-literature, as well as the Gospel of a
- universal humanism.” Contains the writings of philosophers,
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- MY CHILDHOOD. By Maxim Gorky. The autobiography of the famous
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- net, postage 10 cents. (Ready Oct. 14).
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- AFFIRMATIONS. By Havelock Ellis. A discussion of some of the
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- suggested by, literature. The subjects of the five studies are
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- LITERATURE
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- COMPLETE WORKS. Maurice Maeterlinck. The Essays, 10 vols., per
- vol., net $1.75. The Plays, 8 vols., per vol., net $1.50. Poems,
- 1 vol., net $1.50. Volumes sold separately. In uniform style, 19
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- INTERPRETATIONS OF LITERATURE. By Lafcadio Hearn. A remarkable
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- this book. Send $6.50.
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- BERNARD SHAW: A Critical Study. By P. P. Howe. Send $2.15.
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- W. B. YEATS: A Critical Study. By Forest Reid. Send $2.15.
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- DEAD SOULS. Nikolai Gogol’s great humorous classic translated
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- ENJOYMENT OF POETRY. By Max Eastman. “His book is a masterpiece,”
- says J. B. Kerfoot in Life. By mail, $1.35.
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- THE PATH OF GLORY. By Anatole France. Illustrated. 8vo. Cloth. An
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- $2.75.
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- THE TURMOIL. By Booth Tarkington. A beautiful story of young love
- and modern business. Send $1.45.
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- SET OF SIX. By Joseph Conrad. Short stories. Scribner. Send
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- AN ANARCHIST WOMAN. By H. Hapgood. This extraordinary novel
- points out the nature, the value and also the tragic limitations
- of the social rebel. Published at $1.25 net; our price, 60c.,
- postage paid.
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- THE HARBOR. By Ernest Poole. A novel of remarkable power and
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- MAXIM GORKY. Twenty-six and One and other stories from the
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- paid.
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- SANINE. By Artzibashef. The sensational Russian novel now
- obtainable in English. Send $1.45.
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- A FAR COUNTRY. Winston Churchill’s new novel is another realistic
- and faithful picture of contemporary American life, and more
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- BOON—THE MIND OF THE RACE. Was it written by H. G. Wells? He now
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- delight you. Send $1.45.
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- NEVER TOLD TALES. Presents in the form of fiction, in language
- which is simplicity itself, the disastrous results of sexual
- ignorance. The book is epoch-making; it has reached the ninth
- edition. It should be read by everyone, physician and layman,
- especially those contemplating marriage. Cloth. Send $1.10.
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- PAN’S GARDEN. By Algernon Blackwood. Send $1.60.
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- THE CROCK OF GOLD. By James Stephens. Send $1.60.
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- THE INVISIBLE EVENT. By J. D. Beresford. Jacob Stahl, writer and
- weakling, splendidly finds himself in the love of a superb woman.
- Send $1.45. The Jacob Stahl trilogy: “The Early History of Jacob
- Stahl,” “A Candidate for Truth,” “The Invisible Event.” Three
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- OSCAR WILDE’S WORKS. Ravenna edition. Red limp leather. Sold
- separately. The books are: The Picture of Dorian Gray, Lord
- Arthur Saville’s Crime, and the Portrait of Mr. W. H., The
- Duchess of Padua, Poems (including “The Sphinx,” “The Ballad of
- Reading Gaol,” and Uncollected Pieces), Lady Windermere’s Fan, A
- Woman of No Importance, An Ideal Husband, The Importance of Being
- Earnest, A House of Pomegranates, Intentions, De Profundis and
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- Renaissance,” “London Models,” “Poems in Prose”), Salome, La
- Sainte Courtisane. Send $1.35 for each book.
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- THE RAT-PIT. By Patrick MacGill. A novel by the navvy-poet who
- sprang suddenly into attention with his “Children of the Dead
- End.” This story is mainly about a boarding house in Glasgow
- called “The Rat-Pit,” and the very poor who are its frequenters.
- Send $1.35.
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- THE AMETHYST RING. By Anatole France. Translated by B. Drillien.
- $1.85 postpaid.
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- CRAINQUEBILLE. By Anatole France. Translated by Winifred Stevens.
- The story of a costermonger who is turned from a dull-witted and
- inoffensive creature by the hounding of the police and the too
- rigorous measures of the law into a desperado. Send $1.85.
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- VIOLETTE OF PERE LACHAISE. By Anna Strunsky Walling. Records the
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- THE “GENIUS.” By Theodore Dreiser. Send $1.60.
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- JERUSALEM. By Selma Lagerlof. Translated by Velma Swanston. The
- scene is a little Swedish village whose inhabitants are bound in
- age-old custom and are asleep in their narrow provincial life.
- The story tells of their awakening, of the tremendous social and
- religious upheaval that takes place among them, and of the
- heights of self-sacrifice to which they mount. Send $1.45.
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- BREAKING-POINT. By Michael Artzibashef. A comprehensive picture
- of modern Russian life by the author of “Sanine.” Send $1.35.
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- RUSSIAN SILHOUETTES. By Anton Tchekoff. Translated by Marian
- Fell. Stories which reveal the Russian mind, nature and
- civilization. Send $1.47.
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- THE FREELANDS. By John Galsworthy. Gives a large and vivid
- presentation of English life under the stress of modern social
- conflict, centering upon a romance of boy-and-girl love—that
- theme in which Galsworthy excels all his contemporaries. Send
- $1.45.
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- FIDELITY. Susan Glaspell’s greatest novel. The author calls it
- “The story of a woman’s love—of what that love impels her to
- do—what it makes of her.” Send $1.45.
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- WOOD AND STONE. By John Cowper Powys. An Epoch Making Novel. Send
- $1.60.
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- RED FLEECE. By Will Levington Comfort. A story of the Russian
- revolutionists and the proletariat in general in the Great War,
- and how they risk execution by preaching peace even in the
- trenches. Exciting, understanding, and everlastingly true; for
- Comfort himself is soldier and revolutionist as well as artist.
- He is our American Artsibacheff; one of the very few American
- masters of the “new fiction.” Send $1.35.
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- THE STAR ROVER. By Jack London. Frontispiece in colors by Jay
- Hambidge. A man unjustly accused of murder is sentenced to
- imprisonment and finally sent to execution, but proves the
- supremacy of mind over matter by succeeding, after long practice,
- in loosing his spirit from his body and sending it on long quests
- through the universe, finally cheating the gallows in this way.
- Send $1.60.
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- THE RESEARCH MAGNIFICENT. By H. G. Wells. Tells the story of the
- life of one man, with its many complications with the lives of
- others, both men and women of varied station, and his wanderings
- over many parts of the globe in his search for the best and
- noblest kind of life. $1.60, postpaid.
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- SEXOLOGY
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- Here is the great sex book of the day: Forel’s THE SEXUAL
- QUESTION. A scientific, psychological, hygienic, legal and
- sociological work for the cultured classes. By Europe’s foremost
- nerve specialist. Chapter on “love and other irradiations of the
- sexual appetite” a profound revelation of human emotions.
- Degeneracy exposed. Birth control discussed. Should be in the
- hands of all dealing with domestic relations. Medical edition
- $5.50. Same book, cheaper binding, now $1.60.
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- Painful childbirth in this age of scientific progress is
- unnecessary. THE TRUTH ABOUT TWILIGHT SLEEP, by Hanna Rion (Mrs.
- Ver Beck), is a message to mothers by an American mother,
- presenting with authority and deep human interest the impartial
- and conclusive evidence of a personal investigation of the
- Freiburg method of painless childbirth. Send $1.62.
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- FREUD’S THEORIES OF THE NEUROSES. By Dr. E. Hitschmann. A brief
- and clear summary of Freud’s theories. Price, $2.
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- PLAIN FACTS ABOUT A GREAT EVIL. By Christobel Pankhurst. One of
- the strongest and frankest books ever written, depicting the
- dangers of promiscuity in men. This book was once suppressed by
- Anthony Comstock. Send (paper) 60c, (cloth) $1.10.
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- SEXUAL LIFE OF WOMAN. By Dr. E. Heinrich Kisch (Prague). An
- epitome of the subject. Sold only to physicians, jurists,
- clergymen and educators. Send $5.50.
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- KRAFFT-EBING’S PSYCHOPATHIA SEXUALIS. Only authorized English
- translation of 12th German Edition. By F. J. Rebman. Sold only to
- physicians, jurists, clergymen and educators. Price, $4.35.
- Special thin paper edition, $1.60.
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- THE SMALL FAMILY SYSTEM: IS IT IMMORAL OR INJURIOUS? By Dr. C. V.
- Drysdale. The question of birth control cannot be intelligently
- discussed without knowledge of the facts and figures herein
- contained. $1.10, postpaid.
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- MAN AND WOMAN. By Dr. Havelock Ellis, the foremost authority on
- sexual characteristics. A new (5th) edition. Send $1.60.
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- answered. Send $1.05.
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- WHAT EVERY GIRL SHOULD KNOW. By Margaret Sanger. Send 55 cents.
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- THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS. By Dr. C. Jung. A concise statement
- of the present aspects of the psychoanalytic hypotheses. Price,
- $1.50.
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- SELECTED PAPERS ON HYSTERIA AND OTHER PSYCHONEUROSES. By Prof. S.
- Freud, M.D. A selection of some of the more important of Freud’s
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- THREE CONTRIBUTIONS TO SEXUAL THEORY. By John C. Van Dyke. Fully
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- THREE CONTRIBUTIONS TO SEXUAL THEORY. By Prof. Sigmund Freud. The
- psychology of psycho-sexual development. Price, $2.
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- FUNCTIONAL PERIODICITY. An experimental study of the mental and
- motor abilities of women during menstruation by Leta Stetter
- Hollingworth. Cloth, $1.15. Paper, 85c.
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- ART
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- MICHAEL ANGELO. By Romain Rolland. Twenty-two full-page
- illustrations. A critical and illuminating exposition of the
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- INTERIOR DECORATION: ITS PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE. By Frank Alvah
- Parsons. Illustrated. $3.25, postpaid.
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- THE BARBIZON PAINTERS. By Arthur Hoeber. One hundred
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- school. $1.90, postpaid.
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- THE BOOK OF MUSICAL KNOWLEDGE. By Arthur Elson. Illustrated.
- Gives in outline a general musical education, the evolution and
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- Transcriber’s Notes
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-There is obviously some text missing after the first line of the
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-beautiful ...” (in “A Deeper Music”). This had to be left uncorrected.
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-<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Little Review, January-February 1916 (Vol. 2, No. 10), by Margaret C. Anderson</p>
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
-at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
-are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
-country where you are located before using this eBook.
-</div>
-
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Little Review, January-February 1916 (Vol. 2, No. 10)</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Various</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Editor: Margaret C. Anderson</p>
-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 21, 2022 [eBook #67209]</p>
-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p>
- <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Jens Sadowski and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. This book was produced from images made available by the Modernist Journal Project, Brown and Tulsa Universities.</p>
-<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE REVIEW, JANUARY-FEBRUARY 1916 (VOL. 2, NO. 10) ***</div>
-
-<div class="frontmatter chapter">
-<h1 class="title">
-<span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span>
-</h1>
-
-<p class="subt">
-<em>Literature</em> <em>Drama</em> <em>Music</em> <em>Art</em>
-</p>
-
-<p class="ed">
-<span class="line1">MARGARET C. ANDERSON</span><br />
-<span class="line2">EDITOR</span>
-</p>
-
-<p class="issue">
-JANUARY-FEBRUARY, 1916
-</p>
-
- <div class="table">
-<table class="tocn" summary="">
-<tbody>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#POEMS">Poems:</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>H. D.</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr class="i">
- <td class="col1"><a href="#LATESPRING">Late Spring</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr class="i">
- <td class="col1"><a href="#NIGHT">Night</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#ADEEPERMUSIC">A Deeper Music</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>Margaret C. Anderson</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#BLUEPRINTS">Blue-Prints:</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>Harriet Dean</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr class="i">
- <td class="col1"><a href="#DEBUTANTE">Debutante</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr class="i">
- <td class="col1"><a href="#THEPILLAR">The Pillar</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#THEPATHOSOFPROXIMITY">The Pathos of Proximity</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>Alexander S. Kaun</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#SOLITUDE">Solitude</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>David O’Neil</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#THENOVELIST">The Novelist</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>Sherwood Anderson</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#ASPERITIES">Asperities:</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>Mitchell Dawson</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr class="i">
- <td class="col1"><a href="#THREAT">Threat</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr class="i">
- <td class="col1"><a href="#INPASSING">In Passing</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr class="i">
- <td class="col1"><a href="#TERESA">Teresa</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#AMYLOWELLSBOOK">Amy Lowell’s Book</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>F. S. Flint</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#THEPICNIC">The Picnic</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>Marjory Seiffert</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#EDITORIALSANDANNOUNCEMENTS">Editorials and Announcements</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#AMERICANART">“American Art”</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>“The Critic”</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#PHOTOGRAPHY">Photography</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>C. A. Z.</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#BOOKDISCUSSION">Book Discussion</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#THEREADERCRITIC">The Reader Critic</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
-</tbody>
-</table>
- </div>
-<p class="monthly">
-Published Monthly
-</p>
-
- <div class="table">
- <div class="footer">
-<p class="pricel">
-15 cents a copy
-</p>
-
-<p class="pub">
-MARGARET C. ANDERSON, Publisher<br />
-Fine Arts Building<br />
-CHICAGO
-</p>
-
-<p class="pricer">
-$1.50 a year
-</p>
-
- </div>
- </div>
-<p class="postoffice">
-Entered as second-class matter at Postoffice, Chicago
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="frontmatter chapter">
-<a id="page-1" class="pagenum" title="1"></a>
-<p class="tit">
-<span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span>
-</p>
-
- <div class="table">
- <div class="issue">
-<p class="vol">
-Vol. II
-</p>
-
-<p class="issue">
-JANUARY-FEBRUARY, 1916
-</p>
-
-<p class="number">
-No. 10
-</p>
-
- </div>
- </div>
-<p class="cop">
-Copyright, 1916, by Margaret C. Anderson
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<h2 class="article1" id="POEMS">
-Poems
-</h2>
-
-<p class="aut">
-H. D.
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="LATESPRING">
-Late Spring
-</h3>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">We can not weather all this gold</p>
- <p class="verse">Nor stand under the gold from elm-trees</p>
- <p class="verse">And the re-coated sallows.</p>
- <p class="verse">We can not hold our heads erect</p>
- <p class="verse">Under this golden dust.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">We can not stand</p>
- <p class="verse">Where enclosures for the fruit</p>
- <p class="verse">Drop hot—radiant—slight petals</p>
- <p class="verse">From each branch.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">We can not see:</p>
- <p class="verse">The dog-wood breaks—white—</p>
- <p class="verse">The pear-tree has caught—</p>
- <p class="verse">The apple is a red blaze—</p>
- <p class="verse">The peach has already withered its own leaves—</p>
- <p class="verse">The wild plum-tree is alight.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="NIGHT">
-<a id="page-2" class="pagenum" title="2"></a>
-Night
-</h3>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">The night has cut each from each</p>
- <p class="verse">And curled the petals back from the stalk</p>
- <p class="verse">And under it in crisp rows:</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">Under at an unfaltering pace,</p>
- <p class="verse">Under till the rinds break,</p>
- <p class="verse">Back till each bent leaf</p>
- <p class="verse">Is parted from its stalk:</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">Under at a grave pace,</p>
- <p class="verse">Under till the leaves are bent</p>
- <p class="verse">Back till they drop upon the earth,</p>
- <p class="verse">Back till they are all broken.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">O night,</p>
- <p class="verse">You take the petals of the roses in your hand,</p>
- <p class="verse">But leave the stark core of the rose</p>
- <p class="verse">To perish on the branch.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="ADEEPERMUSIC">
-<a id="page-3" class="pagenum" title="3"></a>
-A Deeper Music
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="aut">
-<span class="smallcaps">Margaret C. Anderson</span>
-</p>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">A</span> piano, alone on a stage; shadowed light around and above it; ivory
-and ebony moving out of the shadow; and the silence that hangs
-there before the musician plays. There is nothing like it in the world,—nothing
-more wonderful....
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-There are “revolutions” going on in all the arts. The revolution in
-poetry is coming in for a lot of discussion, so that even the layman is conscious
-of it. His feeling about it is that some effeminate beings called
-Imagists are trying to emasculate the noble art of poetry. But the thing
-is happening right under his nose and he is careful to keep posted, in order
-to be able to defend his favorite theory. As for the stage, he knows that
-Gordon Craig and Rhinehart have been using screens instead of marble
-pillars painted against red velvet curtains. In painting he knows all about
-the cubists and futurists; he even knows that the donkey’s tail story was
-something of a joke. In sculpture he has heard of an unreasonable reaction
-from Rodin, and he has probably seen Brzeska’s head of Ezra Pound. In
-the ballet he has a rather clear idea of why the old classical form wouldn’t
-serve; perhaps because the Russians have demonstrated so clearly what
-it was they could do with the new form. In opera he thinks very little is
-happening. He is right.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-But the slowest revolution of all—and the most interesting—is that
-which is just beginning in the art of the piano. It is the slowest because
-it is not the public alone that is bound to the old form. The masters themselves
-have not visioned toward a need that would make a new form inevitable.
-The need is—a deeper music. And it is the most interesting because
-the convention that has bound the piano,—virtuosity,—is a more worthy
-convention than that which has restricted any of the other arts.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-There is a universe of the arts in the piano. But it is not a universe
-now. It is a stunt. The piano has been used for stunts for years and
-years and years. It will go on being used that way for years. Well, I am
-the last one to deprecate the art of these stunts. I think they are beautiful—some
-of them. I think they have their place. But they have served it
-too well. I love them more than I love all the opals and rubies and sapphires
-and emeralds and topaz and amethyst and pearl a jeweller can dip his fingers
-into and spread out for your dazzled senses. But I love poetry more than
-jewels. And I love music more than poetry. In the music of the piano you
-get the best illustration that music is a thing beginning and ending in itself,
-a thing not of story or image but of sound, a thing that must be understood
-quite simply in its own terms,—as Hiram Kelly Moderwell puts it, a thing
-<a id="page-4" class="pagenum" title="4"></a>
-that must be heard and not seen. And in the revolution that is beginning
-you get this first pure principle combined with another; that the music of
-the piano must reach to the passion of life. This is quite different from
-saying that music must be a dramatization of human life. It is merely saying
-that ballet dancing could never have produced an Isadora Duncan.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-I imagine that Harold Bauer must have said something of this sort to
-himself. He has certainly said it on the piano. His attitude toward the
-piano has this sort of prophecy in it. It is a matter of the beauty of sound.
-The methods of approach of all the “masters” have been the same. They
-have imposed something upon the piano. But Bauer has approached the
-handling of the piano as Debussy approached composition—or Schönberg.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-When Schönberg wrote that “the alleged tones believed to be foreign
-to harmony do not exist; they are merely tones foreign to our accepted
-harmonic system”, and that “tonality is not a hard and fast compulsion
-directing the course of music but a concept which makes it possible for us
-to give our ideas the requisite aspect of compactness”, he was saying practically
-what Bauer has suggested about the touching of the piano: that
-virtuosity is only a means to an end, that the springs of the art have been
-drying up, and that until the musician can <em>hear</em> better he is not worthy of
-the sounds the piano has to give him. You can’t play César Franck with the
-same hands you use for Liszt. You must change your hands into different
-“feelers”. The piano will give you the quality of almost every instrument.
-It is as though Bauer had said: “They call this an instrument of percussion.
-They have laid down its limitation. But I doubt very much whether it will
-stay within that limitation. I suspect it does not stop there but goes on
-into a realm where sound is of infinite development.” That is why you
-hear an organ when he plays César Franck; that is why you realize how
-the Imagists have worked when he plays Debussy; that is why you
-get a sense of painting in all his music. Bauer puts on the sound like paint.
-He knows, as Romain Rolland has said, that every art tends to become a
-universe in itself; that music becomes painting and poetry, that painting
-becomes music, etc. And Bauer is not a genius. He has merely suggested
-what will happen to the piano, and paved the way for an openness of mind
-about it. He has made a good many people gossip of how his scales won’t
-compare with those of the other great ones; but he has made a good many
-more suspect that there has been something lacking in the ultimatums of
-the piano athletes. He has done many simple and dynamic things to bring
-the piano into its own.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-But the full achievement of this will go beyond what has been heard
-yet anywhere; and the man who does it will be scorned as the greatest fool
-or madman of his time before it is fully understood. It doesn’t matter.
-The thing will happen—I hardly know how. I hardly even know words
-with which to tell what it will be like. It can only be told on the piano.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In his <em>Spiritual Adventures</em> Arthur Symons has a story of a musician
-who says more true things about the piano than I have ever found anywhere
-<a id="page-5" class="pagenum" title="5"></a>
-else. One of them is this: “Most modern music is a beggar for
-pity. The musician tries to show us how he has suffered and how hopeless
-he is. He sets his toothache and his heartache to music, putting those sufferings
-into the music without remembering that sounds have their own
-agonies which alone they can express in a perfect manner.” This is where
-the “lions and panthers of the piano” have failed most: they have not
-loved the sounds enough. They have not allowed each sound its full life.
-This is the real reason why the piano has stopped short of itself. They
-might almost as well have played bells. You can strike bells which will
-bring out any number of tunes, loud or soft, with every possible variety
-of phrasing. <em>But your interest will be in the tune rather than in the sound.</em>
-You can’t limit the piano to the tunes that can be played upon it. You
-don’t treat a violin that way, nor an organ. And of course you can register
-a piano almost as fully as an organ with the “stops” that are in the ends
-of your fingers. How fascinating it is, and how wonderful!
-</p>
-
-<p>
-But most piano recitals are like recitations—or some sort of performance
-on a school platform. Their beauty ends with the beauty of style, phrasing,
-finish, tone, taste. It is diction rather than music. It is science.
-Busoni is not a prophet; he is an orchestra. Hofmann loves style more
-than he does sound. Godowsky loves patterns more than sound. Gabrilowitsch
-loves delicate sounds intensely, but has no feeling for the sounds of
-great chords. Zeisler loves rhythm more than sound. And so on. Paderewski
-loves the piano. He is genius, pure and simple—though of course
-there is nothing less pure or simple. He may do what he likes—break sounds
-into bits, crack them like nuts. It doesn’t matter. He never fails to communicate
-a mood to the instrument—the mood of his personal equation. And
-that is art. “Przybyszewski playing Chopin”—that would also be art.
-What have the excellent piano concerts you hear to do with art, with inspiration?
-Piano playing is certainly something to be surpassed. Music is the
-thing! And that means ecstasy, madness, divinity,—the beauty upon which
-all the ends of the world are come. The design of sound.... Each
-sound that comes out of the piano is something alive....
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-And now for the interesting part.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-When I talk of the “new music”—which will be different from Debussy
-and Schönberg and all the rest of them—I am not talking of how far beyond
-the limits of known harmony, or the anarchy which disregards any harmonic
-system, we shall go. Undoubtedly, as far as all that is concerned,
-“some day some one will dig down to the roots and turn up music as it is
-before it is tamed to the scale.” This seems to me a settled fact. But I
-am much more interested in the piano itself and the deliverer who is to set
-it free from the lie which has grown up around it and make it vibrate to a
-truer color. It is all in the plane of vibration, I believe. It will come about
-in three ways: through the mechanical development of the piano, through
-a new type of music, and chiefly through the new type of pianist.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<a id="page-6" class="pagenum" title="6"></a>
-You will have your Mason and Hamlin—(this is not advertising; it
-is merely a conviction)—you will have that great dark-winged-victory standing
-alone on a stage; you will care a great deal about the color of the light
-around and above it—the tones of the walls within which your beautiful
-sounds are to live; you will touch that ivory and ebony—oh, there are no
-words! You will <em>see</em> those sounds against the color....
-</p>
-
-<p>
-You may write a program for your audience—something like this:
-</p>
-
-<div class="excerpt">
-<p class="noindent">
-I believe the right technical approach is simply a different<a id="missing"></a>
-are the most beautiful there are anywhere in the world—more
-beautiful than the wind in trees or the moan in the sea or the
-silence that is heard on deserts;
-</p>
-
-<p>
-I believe that these sounds live only by a certain magic of
-invocation. There are no rules for them—unless perhaps you
-want to read Bergson.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-I believe the right technical approach is simply a different
-kind of friendship—or love affair—with each sound.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-I believe that tone goes way beyond the range between pianissimo
-and fortissimo, between legato and staccato, etc. Tone
-is radiance, eagerness, light, darkness, devastation, something
-that melts, something that cries and burns, something that shatters.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-I do not believe in playing “programs”—ending with a
-blaze of Liszt. I couldn’t play the <em>Campanella</em> to save my life,
-but I don’t see that it matters.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-I do not believe in “program” music—beginning with Bach
-(now that the public has learned to applaud him) and ending
-with Liszt. I couldn’t play the <em>Campenella</em> to save my life, but
-I don’t see that it matters.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-I do not believe in nature music—babbling brooks and
-warbling birds. I believe in nature mood, just as I do in the
-mood of all great phenomena.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The music I have made will be sometimes merely the curve
-of a mood—like the curve of line in Watts’s <em>Orpheus and Eurydice</em>;
-or merely the design of a color or a scent. But always it
-will keep close to two fundamentals: that “hard gemlike flame”
-and the rhythm of sex.
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-All this will come under the classification of those things which are
-so worth knowing that they can never be taught. It will belong to that
-individual who can say the new word—his own word. It will make the
-piano something we have scarcely dreamed of. It will make up an art that
-has nothing to do with the four walls of a room. It could not be set to
-“Questions and Answers” in <em>The Ladies’ Home Journal</em>. It will have little
-to do with accomplishment, but everything to do with that which is of all
-things the highest manifestation of life.
-</p>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="BLUEPRINTS">
-<a id="page-7" class="pagenum" title="7"></a>
-Blue-Prints
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="aut">
-<span class="smallcaps">Harriet Dean</span>
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="DEBUTANTE">
-Debutante
-</h3>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">Y</span><span class="postfirstchar">ou</span> are a faded shawl about the shoulders of your mother. A puff
-of wind catches at your fluttering edge to jerk you away. But she draws
-you close, growing cold in the warm young breeze. She holds you with
-her shiny round pin, as all young ones are clasped to old by round things
-grown shiny with age.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In your wistful tired eyes I see the trembling of her shawl as she
-breathes.
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="THEPILLAR">
-The Pillar
-</h3>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">When your house grows too close for you,</p>
- <p class="verse">When the ceilings lower themselves, crushing you,</p>
- <p class="verse">There on the porch I shall wait,</p>
- <p class="verse">Outside your house.</p>
- <p class="verse">You shall lean against my straightness,</p>
- <p class="verse">And let night surge over you.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="THEPATHOSOFPROXIMITY">
-<a id="page-8" class="pagenum" title="8"></a>
-The Pathos of Proximity<a class="fnote" href="#footnote-1" id="fnote-1">[1]</a>
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="aut">
-<span class="smallcaps">Alexander S. Kaun</span>
-</p>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">P</span><span class="postfirstchar">ull</span> down the shades. Turn out the lights. So. We do not want
-loud electricity. We shall have a jewelled light. For I am rich to-night.
-Come, let us recline on Bagdad cushions and Teheran rugs (“Only
-savages sit”, Mme. Zinovyeva, the Russian Lesbian, told us), and I shall
-scatter over the fantastic patterns jewels and stones. How softly they
-illumine the thick dark—these varicolored glowflies, these streams of wine,
-emerald wine, and amethyst wine, and wine of topazes “yellow as the eyes
-of tigers, and topazes pink as the eyes of a wood pigeon, and green topazes
-that are as the eyes of cats”, and wine of opals “that burn always with an
-icelike flame”, and wine of onyxes that are like “the eyeballs of a dead
-woman”, and wine streams of sapphires and chrysolites and rubies and
-turquoises and ambers and pearls.... I am rich to-night, and we shall
-bathe our eyes in quivering rainbows, and our fingers shall wander lightly
-through dimly-jewelled ripples, stirring up old visions, exotic unhuman
-faces, enchanting monsters, dancing rhythmic words, fantastic moonlit
-thoughts.
-</p>
-
-<div class="excerpt">
- <div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">What songless tongueless ghost of sin crept through the curtains of the night?</p>
- </div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-“In exquisite raiment, and to the delicate sound of flutes, the sins of
-the world are passing in dumb show before us. Things that we have dimly
-dreamed of are suddenly made real. Things of which we have never
-dreamed are gradually revealed.”
-</p>
-
-<div class="excerpt">
- <div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">Lift up your large black satin eyes which are like cushions where one sinks!</p>
- <p class="verse">Fawn at my feet, fantastic Sphinx, and sing me all your memories!</p>
- </div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-A symphony of memories. A life as brilliant and as swift as a meteor.
-A life of no shadows. Sun and flowers. A continuous rainbow. An
-Apollonian race over iridescent rose-and-azure-clouds. A sudden plunge
-over hideous precipice. The song broken. Yet the chord vibrates.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Uneasiness. The moon filters through the stained embrasure.
-</p>
-
-<div class="excerpt" lang="fr">
-<a id="page-9" class="pagenum" title="9"></a>
-<p class="noindent">
-Regardez la lune ... On dirait une femme qui
-sort d’un tombeau. Elle ressemble à une femme morte.
-On dirait qu’elle cherche des mortes.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-... Elle ressemble à une petite princesse qui
-porte un voile jaune, et des pieds d’argent. Elle ressemble
-à une princesse qui a des petites colombes blanches....
-On dirait qu’elle danse.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-... On dirait une femme hystérique, une
-femme hystérique qui va cherchant des amants partout.
-Elle est nue aussi. Elle est toute nue. Les nuages
-cherchent à la vêtir, mais elle ne veut pas. Elle chancelle
-à travers les nuages comme une femme ivre....
-</p>
-
-<p>
-... Cachez la lune! Cachez les étoiles!
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-No, it is not the moon that causes the uneasiness. It is that Egyptian
-scarabæus in lapis lazuli that bedims the scattered jewels and enveils me
-in sadness. An image beckons to me out of the ultramarine glimmer, an
-image of a king, a lord, possessor of a golden tongue and of a scintillating
-mind, yet an image repulsive in its carnal vulgarity, its dull inexpressive
-eyes, its fat jowl, its unreserved mouth. On a stout, democratic finger
-guffaws the scarabæus.
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-Lights! Turn on the lights.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-I have been sybariticizing with thirteen beautiful little volumes of
-Oscar Wilde, recently published by G. P. Putnam’s Sons. It is a useful,
-although often painful, ordeal—ventilating the store-room of your old gods.
-There was a time when I worshipped Wilde unqualifiedly. As a freshman
-I wrote a pathetic paper in which I demanded the canonization of the
-author of <em>De Profundis</em>. Alas, I have come to discern spots on the sun.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-As a decorative artist Wilde has no flaws. The perfect design applied
-in his multifarious productions makes one compare him to the titans of
-the High Renaissance: Nihil tetigit quod non ornavit. The graceful form
-justifies even his obvious moral-fairy-tales, even his unoriginal, Keats-esque
-and Poe-esque poems. It is for the style that we accept his <em>De Profundis</em>,
-that insincerest attempt for sincerity. But Wilde strove for more than
-mere external artistic effect. In his critical essays he lifted the critic to
-the heights of co- and re-creation, and instructed him to demand from a
-work of art eternal values. “The critic rejects those obvious modes of art
-that have but one message to deliver and having delivered it become dumb
-and sterile, and seeks rather for such modes as suggest reveries and moods
-and by their imaginative beauty make all interpretations true and no interpretation
-final.” We, his disciples in aesthetic valuations, come to our
-<a id="page-10" class="pagenum" title="10"></a>
-master with his own criterion, and find him on more than one occasion
-grievously wanting in the requirements that he had set up for the artist.
-He either has no message to deliver, as in his clever plays, or he delivers
-his message in such an outspoken way that no field is left for suggestion
-or imaginative interpretation. He had transgressed Mallarmé’s maxim—“To
-name is to kill; to suggest is to create” not only in <em>The Ballad of Reading
-Gaol</em>, the work that belongs to the crushed, semi-penitent Wilde; he
-committed this unpardonable sin in his masterpiece, <em>Salomé</em>! That wonderful
-harmonious ghastliness, woven out of moods and motives, surcharged
-with suggestive tragedy and fatalism, suddenly breaks into a criminal vulgarity
-through the introduction of a “real” dead head, which drives away
-illusion and atmosphere, and strikes your nostrils with the odor of theatrical
-grease paint.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The rehabilitation of Oscar Wilde was imposed upon the Anglo-Saxon
-world by the continent, especially by Germany, the expropriator of English
-geniuses, where the production of Wilde’s plays has rivalled in frequency
-those of Shakespeare. I know of a German pundit who chose as
-a topic for his doctor’s dissertations “The Influence of Pater on Oscar
-Wilde”. But continental depreciation is as fast as Anglo-Saxon appreciation
-is slow. Neue Zeiten, neue Vögel; neue Vögel, neue Lieder. European
-literature in recent decades has had more meteors than stars. Wilde’s
-flash is rapidly vanishing. You may call me a Cassandra, but I venture a
-prophecy that soon Wilde will find his peaceful place in American colleges
-alongside with Austen, Eliot, Meredith, etc.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<em>Salomé</em> will always remain one of the world’s great symphonies,—a
-symphony in which the motive of doom rends your soul from the first
-sound to the last. <em>Poems in Prose</em> will never lose their charm as ivory-carved
-bits of ideal conversation—the art in which Wilde was supreme,
-the art that is almost unknown in this country where it is substituted by
-talk. His other works are doomed to be time’s victims. Not because they
-are worthless, but for the reason of their adaptability. One must be a
-prophet, a Nietzsche, who hurls his seeds over many generations, in order
-to endure. Wilde was aware of this danger, and he wished to be misunderstood,
-but he lacked the profundity for such a merit. He did not
-mirror his age; but he had realized the potentialities of his age, had popularized
-them to such a degree that they have become the possession of the
-crowd. We are not any longer dazzled by the clever witticisms in his <em>Plays</em>;
-they have become almost commonplace. Even the graceful, radiating <em>Intentions</em>
-appear to us somewhat obvious. Why?—It is the pathos of proximity!
-Wilde’s paradoxes, <em>mots</em>, theories, have proven so appropriate, adaptable,
-and digestible for our age, that it took only one decade to absorb
-them into our blood and marrow. Cleverism for the sake of cleverism has
-come to be an epidemic in our days; cleverists find Wilde an inexhaustible
-source for parasitic exploitation. Our Hunekers (and under this appellative
-<a id="page-11" class="pagenum" title="11"></a>
-I have in mind the legions of our omniscient boulevardiers-critics) don
-a Wildesque robe, and have little trouble in passing as genuine before the
-good-natured public. Unfortunately the constitution of the Hunekers is
-too weak to absorb Wilde’s big truths; they prefer the digestible chaff.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Adaptability spells forgetability. Crime and punishment.
-</p>
-
-<hr class="footnote" />
-
-<p class="footnote">
-<a class="footnote" href="#fnote-1" id="footnote-1">[1]</a> <em>The Works of Oscar Wilde in 13 volumes. Ravenna edition. New
-York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons.</em>
-</p>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="SOLITUDE">
-Solitude
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="aut">
-<span class="smallcaps">David O’Neil</span>
-</p>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">Youth!</p>
- <p class="verse">If there be madness</p>
- <p class="verse">In your soul,</p>
- <p class="verse">Go to the mountain solitudes</p>
- <p class="verse">Where you can grow up</p>
- <p class="verse">To your madness.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="THENOVELIST">
-<a id="page-12" class="pagenum" title="12"></a>
-The Novelist
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="aut">
-<span class="smallcaps">Sherwood Anderson</span>
-</p>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">T</span><span class="postfirstchar">he</span> novelist is about to begin the writing of a novel. For a year he
-will be at the task and what a year he will have! He is going to
-write the story of Virginia Borden, daughter of Fan Borden, a Missouri
-river raftsman. There in his little room he sits, a small, hunched-up figure
-with a pencil in his hand. He has never learned to run a type-writer and
-so he will write the words slowly and painfully, one after another on the
-white paper.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-What a multitude of words! For hours he will sit perfectly still,
-writing madly and throwing the sheets about. That is a happy time. The
-madness has possession of him. People will come in at the door and sit
-about, talking and laughing. Sometimes he jumps out of his chair and
-walks up and down. He lights and relights his pipe. Overcome with
-weariness he goes forth to walk. When he walks he carries a heavy
-walking stick and goes muttering along.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The novelist tries to shake off his madness but he does not succeed.
-In a store he buys cheap writing tablets and, sitting on a stone near where
-some men are building a house, begins again to write. He talks aloud
-and occasionally fingers a lock of hair that falls down over his eyes. He
-lets his pipe go out and relights it nervously.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Days pass. It is raining and again the novelist works in his room.
-After a long evening he throws all he has written away.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-What is the secret of the madness of the writer? He is a small man
-and has a torn ear. A part of his ear has been carried away by the
-explosion of a gun. Above the ear there is a spot, as large as a child’s
-hand, where no hair grows.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The novelist is a clerk in a store in Wabash Avenue in Chicago. When
-he was a quite young man he began to clerk in the store and for a time
-promised to be successful. He sold goods, and there was something in his
-smile that won its way into all hearts. How he liked the people who came
-into the store and how the people liked him!
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In the store now the novelist does not promise to be successful. There
-is a kind of conspiracy in the store. Although he tries earnestly he continues
-to make mistakes and all of his fellows conspire to forgive and
-conceal his mistakes. Sometimes when he has muddled things badly they
-are impatient and the manager of the store, a huge, fat fellow with thin
-grey hair, takes him into a room and begins to scold.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The two men sit by a window and look down into Wabash Avenue.
-It is snowing and people hurry along with bowed heads. So much do the
-<a id="page-13" class="pagenum" title="13"></a>
-novelist and the fat grey-haired man like each other that the scolding
-does not last. They begin to talk and the hours pass. Presently it is
-time to close the store for the night and the two go down a flight of
-stairs to the street.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-On the corner <a id="corr-3"></a>stand the novelist and the store-manager, still talking.
-Presently they go together to dine. The manager of the store looks at
-his watch and it is eight o’clock. He remembers a dinner engagement
-with his wife and hurries away. On the street car he blames himself for
-his carelessness. “I should not have tried to reprimand the fellow,” he
-says, and laughs.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-It is night and the novelist works in his room. The night is cold
-and he opens a window. There is, in his closet, a torn woolen jacket given
-him by a friend, and he wraps the jacket about him. It has stopped snowing
-and the stars are in the sky.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The talk with the store-manager has inflamed the mind of the novelist.
-Again he writes furiously. What he is now writing will not fit into the
-life-story of Virginia Borden but, for the moment, he thinks that it will
-and he is happy. Tomorrow he will throw all away, but that will not
-destroy his happiness.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Who is this Virginia Borden of whom the novelist writes and why
-does he write of her? He does not know that he will get money for his
-story and he is growing old. What a foolish affair. Presently there
-may be a new manager in the store and the novelist will lose his place.
-Once in a while he thinks of that and then he smiles.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The novelist is not to be won from his purpose. Virginia Borden
-is a woman who lived in Chicago. The novelist has seen and talked with
-her. Like the store-manager she forgot herself talking to him. She
-forgot the torn ear and the bald spot where no hair grew and the skin
-was snow white. To talk with the novelist was like talking aloud to herself.
-It was delightful. For a year she knew him and then went away
-to live with a brother in Colorado where she was thrown from a horse
-and killed.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-When she lived in Chicago many people knew Virginia Borden. They
-saw her going here and there in the streets. Once she was married to a
-man who was leader of an orchestra in a theater but the marriage was not
-a success. Nothing that Virginia Borden did in the city was successful.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The novelist is to write the life-story of Virginia Borden. As he
-begins the task a great humbleness comes over him. Tears come into his
-eyes. He is afraid and trembles.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In the woman who talked and talked with him the novelist has seen
-many strange, beautiful, unexpected little turns of mind. He knows that
-in Virginia Borden there was spirit that, but for the muddle of life, might
-have become a great flame.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-It is the dream of the novelist that he will make men understand the
-<a id="page-14" class="pagenum" title="14"></a>
-spirit of the woman they saw in the streets. He wants to tell the store-manager
-of her and the little wiry man who has a desk next to his own.
-In the Wabash Avenue store there is a woman who sits on a high stool with
-her back to the novelist. He wants to tell her of Virginia Borden, to make
-her see the reality of the woman who failed, to make all see that such a
-woman once lived and went about among the women of Chicago.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-As the novelist writes events grow in his mind. His mind is forever
-active and he is continually making up stories about himself. As the
-Virginia Borden whom men saw was a caricature of the Virginia Borden
-who lived in the mind of the novelist, so he knows that he is himself but
-a shadow of something very real.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-And so the novelist puts himself into the book. In the book he is
-a large, square-shouldered man with tiny eyes. He is one who came to
-Chicago from a village in Poland and was leader of an orchestra in a
-theatre. As the orchestra leader the novelist married Virginia Borden
-and lived in a house with her.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-You see the novelist wants to explain himself also. He is a lover
-and so vividly does he love that he has the courage to love even himself.
-And so it is the lover that sits writing and the madness of the writer is
-the madness of the lover. As he writes he is making love. Surely all
-can understand that!
-</p>
-
-<div class="filler">
-<p class="noindent">
-Because sexual love is the most useful and
-common type of excitement we are apt to think
-it necessary to life, when the truth is that it is
-excitement itself which is life’s essential.—<em>Rebecca
-West.</em>
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="ASPERITIES">
-<a id="page-15" class="pagenum" title="15"></a>
-Asperities
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="aut">
-<span class="smallcaps">Mitchell Dawson</span>
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="THREAT">
-Threat
-</h3>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">If you should come into my cave</p>
- <p class="verse">Bringing molded beads of sunlight</p>
- <p class="verse">For offering—</p>
- <p class="verse">I would trample your beads</p>
- <p class="verse">And crush you</p>
- <p class="verse">With that great bone of darkness</p>
- <p class="verse">Which I have gnawed for years</p>
- <p class="verse">And which has left me</p>
- <p class="verse">Meagre as a gnarled root.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="INPASSING">
-In Passing
-</h3>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">One moment—</p>
- <p class="verse">Your friend</p>
- <p class="verse">Has squeezed great drops from you</p>
- <p class="verse">Upon his palette;</p>
- <p class="verse">With your color he has wrought—</p>
- <p class="verse">Masterpieces, you say?</p>
- <p class="verse">But the empty tube</p>
- <p class="verse">Grown flat in his hand,</p>
- <p class="verse">Will he hold it or pick up another,</p>
- <p class="verse">Your friend—</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="TERESA">
-Teresa
-</h3>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">Do you remember Antonino—</p>
- <p class="verse">Swift-winged, green in the sun?</p>
- <p class="verse">Into the snap-dragon throat of desire</p>
- <p class="verse">Flew Antonino.</p>
- <p class="verse">Snap!...</p>
- <p class="verse">The skeleton of Antonino has made</p>
- <p class="verse">A good husband, a good provider.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="AMYLOWELLSBOOK">
-<a id="page-16" class="pagenum" title="16"></a>
-Amy Lowell’s New Book
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="aut">
-<span class="smallcaps">F. S. Flint</span>
-</p>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">A</span><span class="postfirstchar">my</span> Lowell has sent me her book, <em>Six French Poets</em>,<a class="fnote" href="#footnote-2" id="fnote-2">[2]</a> who are:
-Emile Verhaeren, Albert Samain, Remy de Gourmont, Henri de
-Régnier, Francis Jammes, and Paul Fort; and it occurs to me that I must be
-her severest critic—are we not rivals? When, in the summer of 1914, before
-the war was dreamed of, she told me over her dinner-table of her intention to
-write this book and of the names of the poets she had chosen, I objected to
-Samain. Samain, I said, was exquisite, but not important; and he could
-only be read a few pages at a time without weariness. Stuart Merrill and
-Francis Vielé-Griffin, I went on, are both more considerable poets; and
-both are Americans; and since you insist on including Remy de Gourmont
-as one of your poets, you might increase your number to seven, in many
-ways an appropriate number where poets are concerned; and so on. But
-she only motioned the waiter to fill my glass with champagne; and what
-can a man do against such argument and such a will? And now, even if
-I wished to damn her book (I do not), she will have already heaped coals
-of fire upon my head in her preface, where she says kind things about me
-because I happened to mention the names of one or two books to her,
-information she did not really need.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Miss Lowell states that she has “made no attempt at an exhaustive
-critical analysis of the various works” of her poets. “Rather, I have tried
-to suggest certain things which appear to the trained poet while reading
-them. The pages and pages of hair-splitting criticism turned out by erudite
-gentlemen for their own amusement has been no part of my scheme. But
-I think the student, the poet seeking new inspiration, the reader endeavoring
-to understand another poetic idiom, will find what they need to set
-them on their way.” That is so: this book contains six causeries in which
-Miss Lowell tells you why she loves these poets, and what she loves about
-them, interrupting her talk every now and then to read some poem to you
-which illustrates her meaning, introducing every now and then a fragment
-of biography to correspond with the stage of the poet’s work to which she
-has brought you, or stopping every now and then to pick out rare phrases
-and rare music of words for your especial delight. No one, I suppose, will
-have listened to Miss Lowell’s causerie in so happy a setting as the sitting-room
-<a id="page-17" class="pagenum" title="17"></a>
-on the third floor of a hotel in Piccadilly in which she talked to us
-in the August of 1914. Through the long French window open in the
-corner could be seen the length of Piccadilly, its great electric globes, its
-shining roadway, and, on the left, the tops of the trees of Green Park,
-dark grey in the moonlight; the noise of the motorbusses and of the taxis
-reached us in a muted murmur, and at the corner of the park opposite,
-beneath a street lamp, stood a newsboy, whose headlines we strained our
-eyes from time to time to catch. It was in this tenseness created by the
-expectation of news that Miss Lowell read Paul Fort and Henri de Régnier
-to us (she reads French beautifully); and it is the emotion of those evenings,
-more than anything else, that her book brings back to me. This
-is not criticism, I know; but I am a critic displumed. I have quoted Miss
-Lowell’s statement of her aims; let me now give my impression of what
-she has done. You can take up her book, and read it from beginning to
-end without weariness or boredom; you will be continually interested,
-continually delighted, continually moved. Miss Lowell’s method of quoting
-whole poems and long poems as well as detached and beautiful fragments
-has filled her book with an emotional content that almost makes me afraid
-to open it; the fear of too much beauty. And, finally, she has flattered the
-sense of personal superiority in us all by allowing little slips to remain
-where we may find them, and preen ourselves on our cleverness. When
-you have absorbed all these sensations, you will have come to Appendix
-A, which is 140 pages of the finest translations into English that exist of
-the six poets in question, or, it might truly be said, of the French poets
-of the symbolist generation. In these translations, Miss Lowell has rarely
-been tempted away from prose, and you have only to compare her work
-with the work of other translators to be immediately aware of how much
-she has gained by her prudence, her artistry had better be said. That
-Miss Lowell had all the equipment for a task of this kind, her own two
-books of poems left no doubt at all. In them you will find the same delight
-in beautiful word and phrase which has undoubtedly led her to modern
-French poetry as to a friendly country, and to the achievement in these
-translations. If she had done nothing more than just publish these, she
-would have earned our gratitude; but she offers them to you as the least
-of her book (as an appendix!) after you have been amused, interested,
-instructed and moved. I can conceive of no greater pleasure—my pleasure
-in the book is of a different kind—than that of the lover of poetry who
-reads in Miss Lowell’s book about modern French poetry for the first time;
-it must be like falling into El Dorado. I should add that the book contains
-an excellent signed photograph of each poet.
-</p>
-
-<hr class="footnote" />
-
-<p class="footnote">
-<a class="footnote" href="#fnote-2" id="footnote-2">[2]</a> <em>Six French Poets, by Amy Lowell. New York: Macmillan Company.</em>
-</p>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="THEPICNIC">
-<a id="page-18" class="pagenum" title="18"></a>
-The Picnic
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="aut">
-<span class="smallcaps">Marjorie Seiffert</span>
-</p>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse2">Here they come in pairs, carrying baskets,</p>
- <p class="verse">Pale clerks with brilliant neckties and cheap serge suits</p>
- <p class="verse">Steering girls by the arm, clerks too,</p>
- <p class="verse">Pretty and slim and smart</p>
- <p class="verse">Even to yellow kid boots, laced up behind.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse2">They take the electric cars far into the country;</p>
- <p class="verse">They descend, gaily chattering, at the Amusement Park.</p>
- <p class="verse">Under the trees they eat the lunch they have carried—</p>
- <p class="verse">Potato salad and boiled sausages, cream puffs, pretzels, warm beer.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">They ride in the roller-coaster, two in a seat—</p>
- <p class="verse">Glorious danger, warm delicious proximity!</p>
- <p class="verse">The unaccustomed beer floods their veins like heady wine,</p>
- <p class="verse">And smothered youth awakens with shrill screams of joy.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse2">The sun sets, and evening is drowned in electric lights;</p>
- <p class="verse">Arm in arm they wander under the trees</p>
- <p class="verse">Everywhere meeting others wandering arm in arm</p>
- <p class="verse">In the same wistful wonder, seeking they know not what.</p>
- <p class="verse">They have left the park and the crowds, the stars shine out,</p>
- <p class="verse">A river runs at their feet, behind them a leafy copse,</p>
- <p class="verse">Away on the other shore the fields of grain</p>
- <p class="verse">Lie sleeping peacefully in the starlight.</p>
- <p class="verse">Tonight the world is theirs, a legacy</p>
- <p class="verse">From those who lived familiar friends with river, field and forest—</p>
- <p class="verse">Their forebears—</p>
- <p class="verse">Through the night the same earth-magic moves them</p>
- <p class="verse">That swayed those ancient ones, long dead—</p>
- <p class="verse">And these, too, lean and drink,</p>
- <p class="verse">Drink deeply from the river, the flowing river of life.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
-<a id="page-19" class="pagenum" title="19"></a>
- <p class="verse2">Slowly they return to the crowds and the brilliant lights,</p>
- <p class="verse">Dazzled they look aside, silently climb on the cars—</p>
- <p class="verse">They cling to the swaying straps, weary, inert, confused.</p>
- <p class="verse">The lurching car makes halt, they are thrown in each other’s arms,—</p>
- <p class="verse">Alien and unmoved they sway apart again,—</p>
- <p class="verse">The car moves on through the fields and suburbs back to the town.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse2">They leave the car in pairs, the picnic baskets</p>
- <p class="verse">Rattling dismally plate and spoon and jar.</p>
- <p class="verse">Each clerk takes his girl to her lodgings in awkward silence,</p>
- <p class="verse">Indeed their eyes have not met since by the river</p>
- <p class="verse">Those wondrous moments</p>
- <p class="verse">Linked them to earth and night, not to each other.</p>
- <p class="verse">They look askance,—“Good-night”—the front door closed.</p>
- <p class="verse">They do not meet again except by chance.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="editorials chapter">
-<a id="page-20" class="pagenum" title="20"></a>
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="editorials" id="EDITORIALSANDANNOUNCEMENTS">
-Editorials and Announcements
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="WANTEDSOMEIMAGINATIVEREASON">
-<em>Wanted: Some Imaginative Reason</em>
-</h3>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar"><span class="prefirstchar">“</span>N</span><span class="postfirstchar">ietzsche</span> was an individualist, a hater of the State and of
-the Prussians, a sick man, a great artist in words to be read
-with delight and—your tongue in your cheek.” This is from John
-Galsworthy’s “Second Thoughts on this War” in the January <em>Scribner’s</em>.
-And so it goes on: he identifies Nietzsche with the new
-German philosophy (which the poor man would have hated as he
-did Prussianism), he talks of the Will to Power and the Will to
-Love as two forces at opposite poles (quite in the manner of the
-Chestertons), and he derides Shaw’s clear-headed understanding
-that there is no real struggle of ideals involved in the war as the
-statement of a brilliant intellect with “no flair, no feelers, none of
-that instinctive perception of the essence and atmosphere of things
-which is a so much surer guide than reason.” These things are
-heart-breaking. If the artists can not understand the prophets of
-their time why should we expect the masses to do so?
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="HOMOSAPIENSISOBSCENE">
-<em>“Homo Sapiens” Is Obscene!</em>
-</h3>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">A</span><span class="postfirstchar">nthony</span> Comstock’s successor, John Sumner, has arrested
-Alfred Knopf for publishing Przybyszewski’s <em>Homo
-Sapiens</em>. It was suggested that magistrate Simms read the book
-before passing judgment. The assistant district attorney protested
-that “no such cruel punishment be imposed on the court”; but Mr.
-Simms promised to try it.
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<em>P. S.</em> Since writing the above something has happened which
-my brain still refuses to believe. I have just been told that Mr.
-Knopf has pleaded “guilty” to this asinine charge, in order to avoid
-the expense and the publicity, and that <em>Homo Sapiens</em> will no longer
-be circulated in this country. If it is true it is the most inexcusably
-ridiculous thing that has happened for many months. It is incredible!
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="THEWORLDSWORSTFAILURE">
-“<em>The World’s Worst Failure</em>”
-</h3>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">R</span><span class="postfirstchar">ead</span> Rebecca West’s brilliant articles in <em>The New
-Republic</em>.
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="MARGARETSANGERANDTHEISSUEOFBIRTHCONTROL">
-<a id="page-21" class="pagenum" title="21"></a>
-<em>Margaret Sanger and the Issue of Birth Control</em>
-</h3>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">N</span><span class="postfirstchar">othing</span> makes me so positively ill as the average radical.
-The average conservative is a ghastly figure, but at least he
-is true to type. The average radical is a person who professes to
-believe something that he does not believe. If he did, he would be
-in trouble. No one gets into more involuntary trouble than the
-splendid fools who think they can do quite simply what they believe
-in, and who proceed to do it.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Margaret Sanger’s trial is set for the twenty-fourth of this
-month. She is under three indictments, based on twelve articles,
-eleven of which are for <em>printing the words</em>—“prevention of conception.”
-It is these words which are regarded as “lewd, lascivious,
-and obscene.”
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Many “radicals” have advised Mrs. Sanger that the wisest thing
-to do is to plead guilty to this “obscenity” charge and to throw
-herself upon the mercy of the court—which would mean that she
-could get off with a light sentence or a small fine. And what would
-become of her object, which has been to remove the term “prevention
-of conception” from this section of the penal code, where it
-has been labelled as filthy, vile, and obscene? No revolution has
-ever been started by evasion. No one wants Margaret Sanger to
-be a martyr. <em>The point is that every one must see to it that she is
-not made a martyr.</em> There is no other way out of these issues. You
-can’t really believe in a thing without knowing that some time
-you will have to fight for it. Margaret Sanger is taking the stand
-that her type always takes—just because it is the type that insists
-on believing hard. <em>We</em> should do all the rest. If you will wire
-your protest to the District Attorney, office of U. S. Marshal, Post
-Office Building, New York City, it will help. You may write Margaret
-Sanger, or send contributions to her, care of Ethel Byrne,
-26 Post Avenue, New York City. Please, please do it!
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="THERUSSIANLITERATUREGROUP">
-<em>The Russian Literature Group</em>
-</h3>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">T</span><span class="postfirstchar">he</span> introductory lecture, which took place January 14 and was
-rather well attended, will be followed by a series of talks on
-characteristic features in Russian literature. The pivots of the discussion
-will be Pushkin, Lermontov, Gogol, Turgenev, Dostoevsky,
-Tolstoy, and the moderns. Mr. Kaun presents the point of view of
-a Russian, not that of a foreign student.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The next lecture will be Friday, February 11, at 8:30 P. M.,
-in room 612, Fine Arts Building.
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="AMERICANART">
-<a id="page-22" class="pagenum" title="22"></a>
-American Art
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="subt">
-(An Indefinite Comment)
-</p>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">I</span> report, without regret, my inability to present a definite article about
-the Annual Exhibit of American Painters and Sculptors. Not that the
-exhibit is vague—American art is a definite thing: travelling collections,
-annual exhibits, “friends” and organizations have made it so. But visit
-after visit left me without words. The feelings I did have were alternately
-those of amusement, anger, disgust, indifference, mild excitement, and most
-of the time: “Oh well, what’s the use?”
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In this exhibit the only thrills or “artiste emotions”—such as one
-demands of art—were very minor notes and immediately they were felt—thump!
-(Register amazement and then anger.) You come across something
-good: its neighbors and surroundings deaden its appeal. Thus,
-Massonovich’s <em>Moon-Dark</em>—poet’s magic! But alas! it is the only landscape
-in the exhibit. Next to it is Oliver D. Grover’s Italian platitude,
-near it a Redfield—“blast” his “school” of landscapes, please, someone!
-Peyraud, Stacey, Butler—oh, what emptiness! The Inness Room cuts into
-the exhibit separating two rooms from the rest of the galleries. Passing
-through it one is reminded of the Inness tradition—how it has been ignored!
-Or at least how his spirit has been ignored. Monet, Renoir, Manet, and
-some other modern French are hanging elsewhere in the Institute; and
-then there is Whistler; and again recall Inness; Massonovich, on you rests
-the perpetuation, not of “American Landscape” but of that spirit we shall
-always be searching for in landscapes, if landscapes we must have. One
-parting remark about landscapes. Hayley Lever comes in for some praise
-and much scolding. He has a good color sense, but strength and virility
-in composition seem to be lacking. Recall what Jerome Blum has done
-and you will understand why this half-way person ought to be jolted.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-And the portraits. One of Katherine Dudley’s decorative-German-poster-“Every
-Week” cover-design-women, is now the property of the
-“Friends”—“American Art as it was in the early part of the twentieth century”.
-Yes, indeed, to represent it clearly to posterity you must include
-at least one of the numerous society dilettantes. However, Gordon Stevenson,
-Blows, Henri, and Davey as portrait painters are worth watching.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-And the rest of the show? Most of the exhibitors have been represented
-for years. Their pictures are all so familiar. Many of the paintings
-have appeared year after year. Birge Harrison has a rather atmospheric
-beach scene; Beal, Albright, Dougherty, Hassam, Sargent, Mary Cassatt,
-<a id="page-23" class="pagenum" title="23"></a>
-Symons, Ballin, Weir, Schofield. All are familiar and recognised in the
-Market Place. These people are standing still. I imagine they are old:
-grey without magnificence. And being haunted by the truth of that lingering
-statement that there is no such thing as an old <em>artist</em>—why, dare we
-say that they are <em>not</em> artists?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Sculptor? There is none.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-American Art?—To the Annual Exhibit, Ladies and Gentlemen, for
-a definite demonstration!
-</p>
-
-<p class="sign">
-“The Critic.”
-</p>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="PHOTOGRAPHY">
-Photography
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar"><span class="prefirstchar">“</span>M</span><span class="postfirstchar">y,</span> isn’t that real! Just as it really is! My dear, haven’t you often
-seen Grant Park just like that?—a little changed, of course.”... She
-who had spoken was considered not a high-brow but just a good normal
-cultured woman. Not being a fanatic about art, or anything else, for
-that matter, she knew absolutely what she was talking about. The thing
-she was talking about was a painting of Grant Park by Frank C. Peyraud
-looking east from the top of some Michigan Boulevard office building....
-It was indeed “real.” Peyraud’s one-man exhibit at the Art Institute
-shows him up for what he is—an imitator without imagination, a reproducer,
-a copyist of nature in her most obvious moods. Not an artist or a
-creator his landscapes are all “real,” “true-to-life” and they are all enjoyed....
-The Public knows where the originals are and the association
-and comparison gives them pleasure and the artist fame....
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-“Oh, <em>how</em> clever, and can’t you just hear the policemen, and the buggy-wheels
-and the bark of the dogs and the grind-organ! Oh, its just wonderful
-what they can do in music and with an orchestra. I <em>would</em> like to
-hear that played again!” A woman speaks—not the one referred to above
-but one who holds the same position in her set towards music as her
-friend towards “art” in her circle.... Of course, she can appreciate
-music, when it is so natural and real.... Carpenter is to be congratulated:
-the percussions are given a splendid and unusual chance to show
-their versatility—it is they, it seems to me, and they alone who benefit by
-this splendid display of music.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<a id="page-24" class="pagenum" title="24"></a>
-“My dear, I just love Stevenson and you know, my dear, those places
-in his novels are <em>so</em> real—you can just see them so plainly. Of course,
-I’ve never been in Scotland or England or France or, my dear, even in
-New York but really Stevenson is so descriptive, his stories are <em>so</em> gripping
-it really is as good as traveling. And I have a lovely new book,<a class="fnote" href="#footnote-3" id="fnote-3">[3]</a> just out
-with beautiful pictures and awfully dear binding, showing how the places
-Stevenson describes actually exist! You know this book amounts to a
-liberal education—it’s just the same as going abroad. I just adore places
-and scenes and travel in books—don’t you? And Stevenson,” she ended
-with a sigh, “is <em>so</em> romantic.” Which reminds me of a line of the Intolerable
-Wilde’s in a letter from Reading—“I see that romantic surroundings
-are the worst surroundings possible for romantic writers.” ... “And,
-my dear, it brings Art so close to everyday life, does it not?—to have
-artists portray for us our everyday surroundings and show us how nice
-they are.”
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Long, long ago one Woman spoke to an Artist—will her type <em>never</em>
-become extinct?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-“But, Mr. Turner” (Artist; contemporary of John Ruskin) “I never
-saw such colors in a sky in all my life.”
-</p>
-
-<p>
-“My dear madam,” he returned, “don’t you wish you had?”
-</p>
-
-<p class="sign">
-—C. A. Z.
-</p>
-
-<hr class="footnote" />
-
-<p class="footnote">
-<a class="footnote" href="#fnote-3" id="footnote-3">[3]</a> <em>On the Trail of Stevenson by Clayton Hamilton.</em> <em>New York: Doubleday,
-Page and Company.</em>
-</p>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="BOOKDISCUSSION">
-<a id="page-25" class="pagenum" title="25"></a>
-Book Discussion
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="ABRILLIANTENEMY">
-A Brilliant Enemy
-</h3>
-
-<p class="book">
-<em>Modern Painting, by Willard Huntington Wright.
-New York: John Lane Company.</em>
-</p>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">I</span><span class="postfirstchar">t</span> is a hard book. None of Clive Bell’s sunny cynicism, none of
-Kandinsky’s colorful musicalness; surely nothing in common with the
-watery ecstacies of our official Chicago modernist, Arthur Jerome Eddy.
-While reading the voluminous book I experienced an uneasy, an uncertain
-feeling in regard to the author: to hate him, or just to dislike him? Let
-me confess that when I turned over the last page I lowered my head in
-respect for a brilliant enemy.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-It is a hard book, brothers-dilettanti. It gives us a merciless thrashing,
-we who love without being able to state why and wherefore. We are
-ordered to go to school, children, to study chemistry and color, to approach
-a work of art as scientifically equipped as a surgeon venturing to operate
-on a human body. As a reward we are promised the bliss of unadulterated
-aesthetic emotion. Ah, that aesthetic emotion! For a time we believed
-that it was possible to grasp that slippery “blue bird” by following Clive
-Bell’s maxim on the significance of form. Alas, this theory is obsolete.
-Color itself should become form, proclaims Mr. Wright, and he quotes the
-manifesto of his beloved Synchromists: “In our painting color becomes
-the generating function. Painting being the art of color, any quality of
-a picture not expressed by color is not painting!”
-</p>
-
-<p>
-With a sigh of relief we reach the chapter on Synchromism. All art
-up to the year 1912 has been nothing but preliminary experimentation. In
-Rubens were consummated the aims of the old painters (beginning with
-the fifteenth century; the Primitives are dismissed as not deserving consideration)—organization
-and composition. The new cycle opens in the
-nineteenth century with Turner, Constable, and Delacroix, who experiment
-in naturalism. Manet introduces thematic freedom—not more. The
-Impressionists and Neo-Impressionists close the second, naturalistic, cycle,
-having enriched art with laborious investigations into the secrets of color
-in relation to light. All these have been but precursors forging weapons
-for the third and <em>last</em> (!) cycle—the final purification of painting. Synchromism,
-of course. Of this last cycle Cezanne was—hear, Messieurs and
-<a id="page-26" class="pagenum" title="26"></a>
-Mesdames Questioners—the primitive! Still Cezanne and Matisse and
-Picasso ignored color as a generator of form, until two Americans, MacDonald-Wright
-and Russell, rent asunder the ultimate veil from purity
-and truth, and the new and final deity emanated from their canvasses, the
-unsurpassable Synchromism.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-There is so much truth in Mr. Wright’s statements, particularly in his
-negative statements, that we may disregard his fanatic credo. Who will
-deny that painting has been “a bastard art—an agglomeration of literature,
-religion, photography, and decoration”? Who will not approve of the
-efforts of modern painters to eliminate all extraneous considerations and
-make painting as pure an art as music? But why dogmatize again and
-anew? Why reduce creative art to scientific formulae, to mathematical
-calculations, to Procrustean standards? Why ridicule those who paint
-<em>comme l’oiseau chante</em>? Why belittle Kandinsky for his too-subjective
-symphonies? Why be so hard, Mr. Wright, so finite, so sententious, so
-encyclical? Why not have a little sense of humor, pray?
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="GORKYSMEMORIES">
-Gorky’s Memories
-</h3>
-
-<p class="book">
-<em>My Childhood, by Maxim Gorky.
-New York: The Century Company.</em>
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-That Gorky is deteriorating has become a truism. Exaggerated as
-the importance of his early works has been, one could not deny their
-freshness, elementary adroitness, soulfulness. But the god-fire was soon
-exhausted in the none-too-deep spirit of the tramp-poet. He gave us the
-few good songs he knew about the life of the has-beens, and then went
-hoarse. The public, Hauptmann’s Huhn, is not irresponsible for Gorky’s
-false notes. Compel the canary to imitate the nightingale and the poor
-bird will lose her short, simple, pretty twitter, and rend her little heart
-with shrill ejaculations. I have in mind Gorky’s later dramas and stories.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The book before me makes me think that Gorky has come to recognize
-his fallacy in attempting to treat subjects alien to his inherent capacity. At
-any rate in this case he is free from pretentiousness. His childhood memories
-are related simply, realistically, sans philosophizing, sans allegorizing.
-It is left for the reader to deduce the “moral” from the sordid panorama
-that is revealed before him, that malodorous dunghill swarming with human
-beings, whose crawling and writhing is called life. The book should have
-been much shorter; the super-abundance of details makes it Dreiserian or
-Bennetian.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<a id="page-27" class="pagenum" title="27"></a>
-And here I should like to touch upon a sore which reviewers customarily
-do not discuss, for fear of <em>mauvais ton</em>. Why are the English translations
-so careless and comical? The book in question is full of such glaring
-errors, such nonsensical misunderstandings, such atrocious ignorance, that
-it has made me pull my hair in despair of solving the dilemma whether I
-should laugh at the comicalness or whether I should rage at the impertinence.
-I am quite sure that the translator (his name is not revealed) knows
-as much Russian as Percy Pinkerton, the crucifier of Artzibashev; he mutilated
-Gorky from a German translation, I suspect. The book has another
-jolly feature—illustrations. They are reproductions from popular Russian
-paintings, with inscriptions that are supposed to illustrate the text. The
-naive forgery is too crude and unskilful to mislead even the unsuspecting
-reader. Will the publishers ever acquire respect for the printed word?
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="INSTRUCTION">
-Instruction
-</h3>
-
-<p class="book">
-<em>The Greatest of Literary Problems, by James Phinney Baxter.
-Boston: Houghton Mifflin.</em>
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-Have you the sense of humor to guess which is the Problem? Shakespeare
-or Bacon! About seven hundred gigantic pages on this vital question,
-with illustrations and data. Are you curious to know who wins? I
-shall not tell. Why should the reader be spared the reviewer’s agony in
-wading through the bewildering labyrinth of speculations and arguments
-till he reaches ... the same point that he started from. Bon voyage!
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="INSTRUCTIONPLUS">
-Instruction Plus
-</h3>
-
-<p class="book">
-<em>Tales from Old Japanese Dramas, by Asataro Miyamori.
-New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons.</em>
-</p>
-
-<p class="book">
-<em>Some Musicians of Former Days, by Romain Rolland.
-New York: Henry Holland Company.</em>
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-These books, like the preceding one, are intended to be instructive;
-they attain their purpose, however, thanks to gracefulness of style and
-fascination of subject. Mr. Miyamori has condensed the plots of the most
-famous <em>joruri</em>—the epical dramas of the Yeddo period, which are to this
-day chanted in Japanese theatres. It is an exotic atmosphere of oriental
-fairyland, tapestries of childlike love and naive passion, of smiling bloody
-tragedies and blissful harakiris. When lovers are prevented from being
-<a id="page-28" class="pagenum" title="28"></a>
-married they do not employ the cumbersome process of elopment, but
-transport themselves into the other world by committing <em>shinju</em> or double
-suicide. The author tells us that Metizahormach shinju dramas have had
-such powerful influence on the audiences that there have been numerous
-instances of lovers performing that delicious suicide after leaving the
-theatre. I fear that for the occidental reader the dramas will not prove
-as convincing—alas.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-After <em>Musicians of To-Day</em> the last book of Rolland has little appeal.
-Journalistic notes, interesting information, brilliant suggestions—and we
-look in vain for the profound spirit of the old Romain.
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="HOSPITABLEMRBRAITHWAITE">
-Hospitable Mr. Braithwaite
-</h3>
-
-<p class="book">
-<em>Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1915, by William Stanley Braithwaite.
-New York: Gomme and Marshall.</em>
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-Mr. Braithwaite has chosen the guests for his house party with kindly
-catholicity. Amy Lowell, John Gould Fletcher, and H. D. sit uncomfortably
-in his New England parlor eyeing one another furtively. Clement
-Wood clowns in a corner. Vachel Lindsay before the mantel-piece declaims
-to James Oppenheim and Louis Untermeyer, who listen with an air of
-importance. Edgar Lee Masters sits on the <em>corpus juris</em> and meditates
-upon the beauties of silence. Sara Teasedale dances in the hallway. Harriet
-Monroe reclines on a porch chair, listening to the rain. A crowd in
-the library recreate themselves by reading from a set of British Poets.
-Percy MacKaye gloomily reads the war news to a group in the dining-room,
-while little Arvia, his daughter, lisps happily to herself. And alone
-in the kitchen is Robert Frost roasting chestnuts.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Who will say that Mr. Braithwaite could have better performed the
-duties of host? Did he omit any of the “older established names”? And
-did he not make a special Cook’s tour to far off islands (not shown in the
-atlas of the <em>Boston Transcript</em> office) for the purpose of bringing home
-with him certain “new discoveries”?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Mr. Braithwaite pats his guests admiringly upon the back and regrets
-that there are other excellent poets for whom he has no accommodations.
-Ezra Pound, Richard Aldington, T. S. Eliot, D. H. Lawrence, Maxwell
-Bodenheim, perhaps he will invite you next time. Is it not a pleasant
-anticipation?
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="EMPTYSOULS">
-<a id="page-29" class="pagenum" title="29"></a>
-Empty Souls
-</h3>
-
-<p class="book">
-<em>The Later Life, by Louis Couperus.
-New York: Dodd, Mead and Company.</em>
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-This is the second part of the tetralogy of “Small Souls” which began
-to appear in English last year. The slowly-developing epic is pregnant
-with promises, but, oh how slowly the skein unrolls. We are still in the
-midst of Dutch bourgeoisie, dull, stony-faced, petty, filthy; again the
-incessant rain, ever-cloudy skies, bicycle rides, large dinner-parties at
-Mama’s. Small souls. Last year I asked the question whether in depicting
-Dutch life Couperus could not find a single big soul, one interesting individual.
-This second book gives us pale glimmers of potentialities, very
-pale indeed. The big man is big only relatively; he has been in America,
-worked in factories, and is now ... lecturing on peace.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The book introduces a feature that may interest the sexologist: frequent
-passionate love among near kinsmen. Two sisters are in love with
-their brothers. A romance between uncle and niece. The heroes and
-heroines are awakened to love for the most part at the dangerous age of
-forty. I recall that Przybyszewski presents in two of his works love between
-brother and sister. Shall we say that ideal sex-relationship requires
-the closest kinship of body and spirit? In the Pole’s lovers the force driving
-them together is the harmonious coincidence of two morbidly developed intellects
-with a common craving for beauty and fullness. In Couperus we
-face mutual yearning of small, pale, empty souls. But I am not interested
-in sex-problems, not yet.
-</p>
-
-<p class="sign">
-K.
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="TWOPOINTSOFVIEW">
-Two Points of View
-</h3>
-
-<p class="book">
-<em>Violette of Pere Lachaise, by Anna Strunsky Walling.
-New York: Frederic A. Stokes.</em>
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-A gigantic background—the eternal graves and trees and monuments
-of the old Paris cemetery. The rest is fudge. A mouse born out of the
-bowels of a mountain. Nauseating feminine sentimentalism. Boring talk,
-talk, talk.
-</p>
-
-<p class="sign">
-K.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The reviewer above is absolutely mistaken about Mrs. Walling’s book,
-I believe. It is the story of one of those human beings—rare people—who
-live inner lives of extraordinary intensity. It is radiantly absorbing, to me.
-</p>
-
-<p class="sign">
-M. C. A.
-</p>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="THEREADERCRITIC">
-<a id="page-30" class="pagenum" title="30"></a>
-The Reader Critic
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="letters">
-<p class="from">
-<em>The Editor</em>:
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<em>We have had cancellations, congratulations, and a lot of indignant letters
-about Ben Hecht’s “Dregs.” I print two of them below. As it happens,
-these stories are among the best things</em> <span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span> <em>has printed.
-With the exception of some of the poetry and two stories of Sherwood
-Anderson’s, they may be listed as the only “literature” we have published.
-Some one has compared them to Gorky. But this is not a very accurate
-judgment. As a reviewer pointed out in the November issue, Gorky could
-feel his stories, could imagine them deeply, but he could never quite tell
-them. The supreme virtue of Ben Hecht’s “Dregs” is that he could tell
-them. That is the art. Of course I have nothing to say to those people
-who deplore Mr. Hecht’s subject matter and urge me to use some moral
-judgment in selecting things for</em> <span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span>. <em>There is no such
-thing as moral judgment in literature. There should be no such thing in
-life, but unfortunately</em>—
-</p>
-
-<p class="from">
-<em>A Sorrowful Friend</em>:
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span>: <em>Literature, Drama, Music, Art</em>. Which of these four shrines
-did you intend to desecrate in offering Ben Hecht’s “Dregs”? Or have you added an
-“unwritten” class to your list, comprehensive enough to include such bold portrayals
-of viciousness and filth, of licentiousness and lust, as these three degenerate—manifestations!
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<span class="smallcaps">Little Review</span>—how <em>could</em> you do it? You who have hitherto held so bravely to
-the tenets of beauty and truth in thought and expression, held to them courageously
-through storms of adverse criticism, consent to print descriptions of the bestial abnormalities
-of the scum of mankind! If <em>you</em>, who profess to look to a higher, better
-realization of life, consent to crawl in the gutter with the vermin, what can we expect
-of the lesser publications?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-You have polluted an edition of your magazine; it is true that flames will destroy
-the manuscript, but what of the hideous memory that remains? Take heed—<span class="smallcaps">Little
-Review</span>; remember that cleanliness is akin to godliness and—look to your soul!
-</p>
-
-<p class="from">
-<em>Florence Kiper Frank, Chicago</em>:
-</p>
-
-<p>
-May I call your attention to the fact that Mr. Edward J. O’Brien, in his annual
-review of the year’s fiction, not only lists all the stories printed in <span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span>
-during 1915 among those possessing “distinction,” but double-asterisks (verb) the
-three sketches of Ben Hecht’s published under the title “Dregs.” This in the chaste
-and genealogical Boston Evening Transcript! And, following to the best of my
-ability Mr. O’Brien’s rather vague reference to and nebulous listings of the stories
-to be published in his anthology, <em>The Best Stories of 1915 and Year Book of American
-Fiction</em>, I can but come to the startled conclusion that Ben Hecht’s three stories are
-all to be reprinted in the estimable collection. Good for Ben Hecht, <span class="smallcaps">The Little
-Review</span>, and Mr. O’Brien’s catholicity of judgment! Some of us there are who like
-to have our opinions backed and bolstered by authority. And what more august
-authority than the printed word of Boston. Some of us—but of course not your
-insurgents. Perhaps Mr. Hecht will resent congratulations. I tender them, nevertheless—with
-apologies. Good stuff, Ben Hecht! Do us some—more of them.
-</p>
-
-<p class="from">
-<a id="page-31" class="pagenum" title="31"></a>
-<em>Sada Cowan, New York</em>:
-</p>
-
-<p>
-I’m truly grateful to your reviewer who found my play, <em>The State Forbids</em>, “negative
-as literature.” If he had found it bad architecture or mediocre sculpture I
-should have been less pleased.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Play making, to my mind, is not a form of literature (even though its medium
-chances to be words) but it is an art of spacing ... focusing ... building. Structure
-upon structure! Foundation. Ornament. Design. An art as distinct from other
-forms of word utility as color medium is from plastic art. Drama is related to literature
-only in so far as all arts are inter-related. No more than this. By drama I
-mean, of course, plays intended (at least in the writer’s mind) for production. These
-alone are plays. For one reason or another they may never reach the boards, but
-they must have lived in the writer’s fantasy as things produced. <em>Desk drawer dramas</em>
-are not plays.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-I believe that the hope of the modern drama lies in the artist who can learn to
-look upon himself as a builder ... a <em>maker</em> and not a writer of plays.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-And so again I thank your critic whose charity has made me feel that I am on
-the road which leads to “Somewhere.” Even though at the end of my journey I
-may not yet have reached the first mile stone.
-</p>
-
-<p class="from">
-<em>Virginia York, Washington, D. C.</em>:
-</p>
-
-<p>
-It is published in windy Chicago, <span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span>. Claimed by management,
-editors and its readers to be the very, very last, last word in prose and poetry; it is
-sold at fifteen cents a copy. Normal-minded, healthy folk will find it cheap at that
-price, because normal-minded, healthy folk will find in it fifteen laughs for fifteen cents,
-despite the fact that it is entirely a serious publication.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Years ago an editor sent me to the government hospital for the insane just outside
-Washington, to interview a certain man. As I passed into the building an elderly
-gentleman of profoundly respectful manner presented me with a neatly-bound pamphlet
-which he said he had written, edited and illustrated entirely by himself. Examining
-it later, the cover-page proved to be a mass of meaningless, whirling lines labeled in
-carefully printed letters, “The Croucher At The Door.” The reading matter was
-wholly unintelligible.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-A poet-friend has given me the October number of <span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span>. The
-vers libre poetry in the small magazine might easily be called “The Croucher At The
-Door” for all the sense to be made of it. In fear and trembling that my own unworthy
-brain might finally have addled, relatives and friends were invited to peruse
-the contents of the volume. I thank heaven they could make nothing of it.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-One contribution entitled <em>Cafe Sketches</em>, by Arthur Davison Ficke, is herewith reprinted
-for the benefit of readers of this page who are denied access, and accompanying
-the laugh, to <span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span>. Mr. Ficke, after telling in the first verse
-that he is in a cafe, surrounded by a “cortege of seven waiters,” mourning for a
-“boundlessly curious lady,” recites in mournful meanderings:
-</p>
-
- <div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse2">Presently persons will come out</p>
- <p class="verse">And shake legs.</p>
- <p class="verse">I do not want legs shaken.</p>
- <p class="verse">I want immortal souls shaken unreasonably.</p>
- <p class="verse">I want to see dawn spilled across the blackness</p>
- <p class="verse">Like a scrambled egg on the skillet;</p>
- <p class="verse">I want miracles, wonders.</p>
- <p class="verse">Tidings out of deeps I do not know ...</p>
- <p class="verse">But I have a horrible suspicion</p>
- <p class="verse">That neither you</p>
-<a id="page-32" class="pagenum" title="32"></a>
- <p class="verse">Nor your esteemed consort</p>
- <p class="verse">Nor I myself</p>
- <p class="verse">Can ever provide these simple things</p>
- <p class="verse">For which I am so patiently waiting.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse2">Base people!</p>
- <p class="verse">How I dislike you!</p>
- </div>
- </div>
- </div>
-<p class="noindent">
-Maybe you think this is funny, but certainly it is not intended to be. Seriousness,
-thick, black, dense seriousness is the keynote of <span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span>. This is vers
-libre with a vengeance. “Persons will come out and shake legs. I do not want legs
-shaken.” Here we have the spirit of the dance! It is quite evident Mr. Ficke does
-not wish joy to be unconfined.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-There have been many descriptions of dawn, probably none so unique as “the
-dawn spilled across the blackness like a scrambled egg on the skillet.” The second
-verse is short and to the point, but it is much to be thankful for both in point of
-length and the statement that we are abhorred.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In order to restore our thoughts to something sane, to take away from us the
-taste of such gibberish, consider for a moment the following eight lines by Harriet
-Howe, recently published in <span class="smallcaps">The Literary Digest</span>. Comparison between the two
-authors is utterly impossible, totally unnecessary:
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="SUNSETAFTERRAIN">
-SUNSET AFTER RAIN
-</h3>
-
- <div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">The cradle of the valley</p>
- <p class="verse2">Is filled with floating mist,</p>
- <p class="verse">The summits of the mountains</p>
- <p class="verse2">Are veiled in amethyst.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">The trees spread grateful branches</p>
- <p class="verse2">Above a smiling sod,</p>
- <p class="verse">For thirsting slaked, for hunger fed,</p>
- <p class="verse2">All things are praising God.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
- </div>
-<p class="from">
-<em>Huntly Carter, London</em>:
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The letter by C. Smith of Chicago, in the October issue of <span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span>,
-is so phenomenally stupid and so intellectually dishonest that it is almost beneath
-notice. If I consent to notice it, I do so in order to warn Smithsonian understudies
-that they will be severely dealt with if they attempt to repeat Smith’s brazen offence
-of writing to a significant journal and coolly suggesting that a single and relatively
-unimportant wrong attribution is to be regarded as a fair and honest sample of the
-whole subject matter of an article occupying several pages and mainly devoted to a
-metaphysical explanation of the origin and nature of poetry. Furthermore, suggesting
-that I am applying to a poet (Browning) a rigid test of poetry, seeking to prove
-his words poetically good or bad by my poetical experience, when as a matter of
-fact I am offering certain words, some of which are wrongly attributed to Browning,
-as indisputable evidence that in venting the emotions versifiers find descriptive figures
-efficacious.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-No doubt some of the words flaunted by Smith are wrongly attributed to Browning.
-They are so wrongly attributed that anyone can see they are wrongly attributed.
-And any “sane, intelligent and decently responsible man” (to use Smith’s yellow press
-tautology) would have given me an opportunity of saying they are wrongly attributed
-before venturing to put on silly airs of hypercriticism. Then he would have learnt
-that the first and third line of the quotation belong oddly enough, to another piece of
-<a id="page-33" class="pagenum" title="33"></a>
-poetry, and have got mixed up with Browning’s stuff in some unaccountable way. I
-have not the least idea how the mix took place. All I know is that my article was
-finished off in great haste to catch the mail. It was sent in handscript and not typescript.
-And there was no time to send me a proof; otherwise the quotation would
-certainly have been corrected, and the many errors which now appear in my article
-would have disappeared. I feel I am justified in saying it was not my intention to send
-the words which have crept into print by the discovery that I have actually written
-down Browning’s very words. Here is Browning:
-</p>
-
- <div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">And the sun looked over the mountain’s rim:</p>
- <p class="verse">And straight was a path of gold for him,</p>
- <p class="verse">And the need of a world of men for me.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
- </div>
-<p class="noindent">
-The first line of the verse is missing. The three lines however serve the purpose of
-my comparison. I had also set down these lines by Browning:
-</p>
-
- <div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">One lyric woman in her crocus vest,</p>
- <p class="verse">Woven of sea-wools.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
- </div>
-<p class="noindent">
-I intended to include this with my quotations. For here in my view is a figure
-as original and precisely felicitous as anything the Imagists have given us.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-That this dragging in of some wrongly attributed words—so obviously wrong
-as to deceive no one—for the sole purpose of discrediting an important article is dishonest,
-is clear from the fact that Smith does not drag in any other quotation from
-the many given, nor produce any other evidence whatsoever in support of his contention
-that my article is inept and careless throughout. In fact he has nothing more
-damaging to offer than his own fatuous statement that he happens “to consider my
-article an ill-digested congeries of vague views”; which, when one comes to examine
-it is found to contain a baseless assertion and a clear admission that my article is
-above and beyond Smith’s head.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-As to the silliness of Smith’s letter, this may be judged from the following:
-Smith begins with the generalization that magazines die “whose pages are as a rule
-careless, inconsidered and inept” (note the repetition and consequent lack of thoroughness).
-The publications of the capitalist press answer this description. The news
-sheets, for instance, are rotten with carelessness, inconsideredness and ineptness. They
-would be rottener if they could. Yet they do not die. On the contrary they sell by
-the million. If so, then <span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span> should sell by the million. But Smith
-says it will die. And Smith is a careful, serviceable, and accurate man.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-By way of comparison Smith relieves himself of this matchless composition.
-“Your magazine will die,—as a steam engine would grow useless in which no direction
-towards any cylinder was given to the indubitable forces generated in the boiler.”
-What is the precise meaning of this bombastic twaddle? In homely words, it means
-that a steam engine is (not “would grow”) useless when the steam power developed in
-its boiler is not utilised in any cylinder. Anyone who examines this analogy will
-agree with me that Smith is a careful, serviceable, and accurate man.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-From the general Smith comes to the particular and quotes what he is pleased to
-call an example of my “ineptitude and carelessness” as an example of the general “ineptitude
-and carelessness” of <span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span>. Without knowing anything as to
-the circumstances under which the wrongly attributed words found their way into
-print, without stopping to inquire to what extent I contributed to the mistake, and
-upon no other evidence whatsoever than the said wrongly attributed words, he proceeds
-to saddle me with the astounding intention “to obliterate all sense of accuracy,
-all love of clear and rational communication, all fidelity to honest statement, and all
-interest in truth” (which makes four ways of uttering the same inverifiable statement).
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Finally Smith challenges the editor of <span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span> to print his ghastly
-ineptitude. She has taken the short way and done so. It serves Smith right.
-</p>
-
-<p class="from">
-<a id="page-34" class="pagenum" title="34"></a>
-<em>M. Silverman, Chicago</em>:
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Your last issue is a failure—with two exceptions, Miss Goldman’s article on
-“Preparedness” and Mr. Hecht’s letter. Both of them are human, understandable,
-and sincere. They shout—but do not roar. All the others are ostentatious, plebeian,
-and lack artistic restraint. They are not beautiful. They <em>holler</em> and produce a sense
-of heaviness and overexertion. Sympathy and politeness are apparently the cardinal
-virtues of the highly esteemed editor. Hence this “democratic” hash.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-To be more specific: Your editorial, “Toward Revolution,” is the acme of nonsense.
-I tried to take you seriously but I couldn’t. It is pamphletory, and should
-have no place in <span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span>.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-“The Ecstasy of Pain” is a stage hurricane, and, to paraphrase Mr. Goldbeck, it
-is like Chicago: vast, but not impressive. It lacks artistic touch and symmetrical
-wholeness. The fourth paragraph is excellent. The rest was unnecessary. The
-fragmentary mind of Mr. Kaun is phosphorescent, produces tiny sparks which are
-soon lost in the darkness. Higher mathematics is the best remedy for Mr. Kaun’s
-mind.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-“The Spring Recital” is a bore. The author of <em>The “Genius”</em> seems to have a
-mania for torturing the innocent public. I read “The Spring Recital” twice, yes
-twice; and when I got through with it I felt extremely uncomfortable. I don’t understand
-it and it doesn’t mean anything to me. I challenge anyone to explain to me:
-What does this piece of “dramatic” “quatch” mean?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-All the other articles—well, they are harmless.
-</p>
-
-<p class="from">
-<em>Woods Dargan, Darlington, S. C.</em>:
-</p>
-
-<p>
-I enclose a check for $1.50, and ask that you enter my name for one year’s subscription—that
-is, if you will let one of the rabble creep in. Frankly, I know no more
-about art (with a capital A or otherwise) than a rabbit. I don’t even know what
-an “Imagist” is! And for the life of me I cannot understand why the temperamental,
-fussy gentleman named Alexander S. Kaun should not use a singular verb with a
-singular noun, just like ordinary people. But when he says, as he does in the first
-line of the fourth paragraph of his article, “the dearer a person or a thing <em>are</em> to me,
-etc.,” I know there must be intellectual purpose in it, some esoteric effect that gets
-to the cultured few but passes over my head; so I bow before the unknown beauty
-of it, thinking, “Odd, but no doubt it’s all right.”
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Also, to my untutored mind, the frequent use of profanity in an everyday, conversational
-way in two or three of the articles is amusing, and makes me wonder.
-It reminds me of the days when I first took up the art, and used to feel a shudder of
-delight when I ripped out a good, mouth-filling, “Damn it all to hell!” Perhaps it has
-lost its charm for me as a literary ornament because I swear so much myself, just as
-a matter of habit without deriving the oldtime pleasure from it.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Other places where these boys put it all over me are in music and Russians. It
-is one of my secret sorrows that I know I know nothing about music. I like it, but
-it never occurs to me to fade away and fill an early grave if I hear somebody’s nocturne
-murdered—that is, if I know it is being murdered, which is highly unlikely. And
-as to the Russians, old Dostoevsky is my limit so far, but I’m game, and am going
-in for all the others,—the more gloomy and morbid the better.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Then, there’s this Mr. Theodore Dreiser. As we say in this neck of the woods,
-in our uncouth manner, “He must be a bear-cat.” (By the way, I’d give a lot to know
-what “demiurge” means in the sense in which it is applied to him. Mr. Masters used it
-in <em>The New York Times</em> some weeks ago, and now I find it again in Mr. Powys’
-appreciation. I don’t know what they mean.) Well, I’ve had his book, <em>The “Genius,”</em>
-for sometime, and mean to read it all as soon as I can get round to it. Perhaps I’ll
-know what “demiurge” means then—but I doubt it.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<a id="page-35" class="pagenum" title="35"></a>
-For all that I have said I would not have you think that I am wholly lacking in
-soul. I have some things in common with these fellows, for I have no religion or
-morals, and I enjoy getting drunk, riotously, gloriously drunk, once or twice a year.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-And now, after telling you at more length than any decent person should what
-has puzzled me in your Review, permit me to say what I like. The first part of your
-own contribution, “Life Itself,” strikes me as the real thing. I understand all that,
-being a common person. For the last part, as I’ve said, I know nothing of art, and
-life doesn’t mean those things to me, naturally. But I like it. I can, after a fashion,
-see how it <em>might</em> mean them. The review of Dreiser by Mr. Powys that I have mentioned
-already is good writing and good sense. How true it is, I am not yet in a position
-to guess. Then, Mr. Edgar Masters always writes vividly, deeply. I am glad to
-add “So We Grew Together” to what I know of his stuff. It is almost as good a
-portrait and short story as some of the best of the Anthology.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-That fellow Ben Hecht can write. Personally, I have a sort of leaning toward
-the dregs, but, as a general thing, I don’t know that there’s much use in writing
-about them just so. But he’s certainly good. He can write. I never heard of him
-before, but I shall look out for him in future.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-For the sake of what I find good I’m willing to put up with what I fail to grasp,
-and so I look forward to much pleasure and instruction from <span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span>.
-Luck to it. As long as you, Miss Lowell, Mr. Masters, and Mr. Hecht contribute,
-so long will it be cheap at any price. And, who knows? I may yet learn from my
-friend Mr. Kaun the hidden beauties of a singular subject with a plural verb.
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="filler">
-<h2 class="filler" id="THEJANUARYFEBRUARYISSUE">
-<em>The January-February Issue</em>
-</h2>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-On account of having no funds during January
-we have been forced to combine the two
-issues. Subscriptions will be extended accordingly.
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="ads chapter">
-<p class="h1 adh">
-FINE ARTS THEATRE
-</p>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p class="h3 u adh">
-For TWO WEEKS, Beginning<br />
-January 17, 1916
-</p>
-
-<p class="h2 u adh">
-THE CHICAGO PLAYERS<br />
-with<br />
-MME. BORGNY HAMMER
-</p>
-
-<p class="u c">
-Evenings (Except Wednesdays and Thursdays)<br />
-and Saturday Matinees
-</p>
-
-<p class="h3 u adh">
-“AGNETE”<br />
-by<br />
-AMALIE SKRAM<br />
-(First Time in English)
-</p>
-
-<p class="u c">
-Wednesday and Thursday Evenings<br />
-and Special Matinees
-</p>
-
-<p class="c">
-JANUARY 20, 21, 26 and 27
-</p>
-
-<p class="h3 u adh">
-“THERESE RAQUIN”<br />
-by<br />
-EMILE ZOLA
-</p>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p class="b c">
-<span class="larger">FINE ARTS THEATRE</span>
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="ads chapter">
-<a id="page-36" class="pagenum" title="36"></a>
- <div class="box">
-<p class="h1 adh">
-BLACKSTONE HOTEL
-</p>
-
-<p class="c">
-French Room
-</p>
-
-<p class="narrow">
-Eight talks on Literature, Art and the Drama on
-successive Saturday afternoons at half-past three, during
-the entire months of January and February, beginning
-January the eighth.
-</p>
-
-<p class="c">
-Lecturer
-</p>
-
-<p class="h2 adh">
-JESSE QUITMAN
-</p>
-
- <div class="table">
-<table class="table036" summary="">
-<tbody>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1">Saturday, January</td>
- <td class="col2">29th,</td>
- <td class="col3">3:30—Subject to be announced.</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1">Saturday, February</td>
- <td class="col2">5th,</td>
- <td class="col3">3:30—Subject to be announced.</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1">Saturday, February</td>
- <td class="col2">12th,</td>
- <td class="col3">3:30—Subject to be announced.</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1">Saturday, February</td>
- <td class="col2">19th,</td>
- <td class="col3">3:30—Subject to be announced.</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1">Saturday, February</td>
- <td class="col2">26th,</td>
- <td class="col3">3:30—Subject to be announced.</td>
- </tr>
-</tbody>
-</table>
- </div>
-<p class="b c">
-<span class="larger">An Invitation Cordially Extended</span>
-</p>
-
-<p class="c">
-No Door Fee
-</p>
-
- </div>
- <div class="box">
-<p class="h2 adh">
-Free Coal to Those Who Can’t<br />
-Afford to Buy It
-</p>
-
- <div class="s">
-<p>
-Nobody is going to be cold this winter if the Consumers Company can help it. We even
-want those who can’t afford to pay for coal now, to use Consumers coal, because at some time
-in the future their circumstances may change; they may be able to pay for coal then and if they
-once use Consumers coal they will never use any other. In any event we want them to keep warm.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-You can call it either charity or advertising, it makes no difference to us as long as we
-accomplish the results we are after, but we will give 50 pounds of coal free every day, as we
-have for the past three winters, on presentation at any of our yards listed below of our coal
-certificates which may be had from any Physician, Minister, Priest, Rabbi, Newspaper, the Salvation
-Army, the Volunteers of America, Associated Charities, the Visiting Nurses Association, any
-Woman’s Club or Charitable Organization. And we give it freely without any fuss or foolishness.
-</p>
-
- </div>
-<p>
-Last year we distributed 70,720 fifty-pound lots of Consumers coal. You may
-call them advertising samples or charity just as you choose. In either event we <em>know</em>
-that we kept <em>70,720 families warm</em>. This is our Christmas offering and in this manner
-<em>we propose to make Christmas last all winter</em>. If we profit by it later—when
-these good folks are in position to become <em>paying</em> customers, you won’t care, will you?
-We think not.
-</p>
-
-<p class="c">
-Consumers Company
-</p>
-
-<p class="r">
-FRED W. UPHAM, President.
-</p>
-
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="ads chapter">
-<a id="page-37" class="pagenum" title="37"></a>
- <div class="box">
-<p class="h2 adh">
-BUY YOUR BOOKS HERE
-</p>
-
-<p>
-If you wish to assist The Little Review without cost to yourself you may
-order books—any book—from the Gotham Book Society and The Little
-Review will be benefitted by the sales. By this method The Little Review
-hopes to help solve a sometimes perplexing business problem—whether the
-book you want is listed here or not the Gotham will supply your needs.
-Price the same, or in many instances much less, than were you to order
-direct from the publisher. All books are exactly as advertised. Send P. O.
-Money Order, check, draft or postage stamps. Order direct from the
-Gotham Book Society, 142 W. 23rd St., N. Y., Dept. K. Don’t fail to
-mention Department K. Here are some suggestions of the books the
-Gotham Book Society is selling at publishers’ prices. All prices cover
-postage charges.
-</p>
-
- </div>
-<p class="h4 adh">
-POETRY AND DRAMA
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>SEVEN SHORT PLAYS.</b> By Lady Gregory. Contains
-the following plays by the woman who holds
-one of the three places of most importance in the
-modern Celtic movement, and is chiefly responsible for
-the Irish theatrical development of recent years:
-“Spreading the News,” “Hyacinth Halvey,” “The Rising
-of the Moon,” “The Jackdaw,” “The Workhouse
-Ward,” “The Traveling Man,” “The Gaol Gate,” together
-with music for songs in the plays and explanatory
-notes. Send $1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE MAN WHO MARRIED A DUMB WIFE.</b> By
-Anatole France. Translated by Curtis Hidden Page.
-Illustrated. Founded on the plot of an old but lost
-play mentioned by Rabelais. Send 85c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE GARDENER.</b> By Rabindranath Tagore. The
-famous collection of lyrics of love and life by the Nobel
-Prizeman. Send $1.35.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>DOME OF MANY-COLORED GLASS.</b> New Ed. of
-the Poems of Amy Lowell. Send $1.35.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY.</b> By Edgar Lee Masters.
-Send $1.35.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>DREAMS AND DUST.</b> A book of lyrics, ballads and
-other verse forms in which the major key is that of
-cheerfulness. Send $1.28.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>SOME IMAGIST POETS.</b> An Anthology. The best
-recent work of Richard Aldington, “H. D.,” John Gould,
-Fletcher, F. S. Flint, D. H. Lawrence and Amy Lowell.
-83c, postpaid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE WAGES OF WAR.</b> By J. Wiegand and Wilhelm
-Scharrelman. A play in three acts, dedicated to
-the Friends of Peace. Life in Russia during Russo-Japanese
-War. Translated by Amelia Von Ende.
-Send 95c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE DAWN</b> (Les Aubes). A symbolic war play, by
-Emile Verhaeren, the poet of the Belgians. The author
-approaches life through the feelings and passions. Send
-$1.10.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>CHILD OF THE AMAZONS</b>, and other Poems by
-Max Eastman. “Mr. Eastman has the gift of the singing
-line.”—Vida D. Scudder. “A poet of beautiful
-form and feeling.”—Wm. Marion Reedy. Send $1.10.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE POET IN THE DESERT.</b> By Charles Erskine
-Scott Wood. A series of rebel poems from the Great
-American Desert, dealing with Nature, Life and all
-phases of Revolutionary Thought. Octavo gray boards.
-Send $1.10.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>CHALLENGE.</b> By Louis Untermeyer. “No other
-contemporary poet has more independently and imperiously
-voiced the dominant thought of the times.”—Philadelphia
-North American. Send $1.10.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>ARROWS IN THE GALE.</b> By Arturo Giovannitti,
-introduction by Helen Keller. This book contains the
-thrilling poem “The Cage.” Send $1.10.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>SONGS FOR THE NEW AGE.</b> By James Oppenheim.
-“A rousing volume, full of vehement protest and splendor.”
-Beautifully bound. Send $1.35.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>AND PIPPA DANCES.</b> By Gerhart Hauptmann. A
-mystical tale of the glassworks, in four acts. Translated
-by Mary Harned. Send 95c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>AGNES BERNAUER.</b> By Frederick Hebbel. A
-tragedy in five acts. Life in Germany in 15th century.
-Translated by Loueen Pattie. Send 95c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>IN CHAINS</b> (“Les Tenailles”). By Paul Hervieu.
-In three acts. A powerful arraignment of “Marriage a
-La Mode.” Translated by Ysidor Asckenasy. Send 95c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>SONGS OF LOVE AND REBELLION.</b> Covington
-Hall’s best and finest poems on Revolution, Love and
-Miscellaneous Visions. Send 56c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>RENAISSANCE.</b> By Holger Drachman. A melodrama.
-Dealing with studio life in Venice, 16th century.
-Translated by Lee M. Hollander. Send 95c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE MADMAN DIVINE.</b> By Jose Echegaray. Prose
-drama in four acts. Translated by Elizabeth Howard
-West. Send 95c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>TO THE STARS.</b> By Leonid Andreyieff. Four acts. A
-glimpse of young Russia in the throes of the Revolution.
-Time: The Present. Translated by Dr. A.
-Goudiss. Send 95c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>PHANTASMS.</b> By Roberto Bracco. A drama in four
-acts, translated by Dirce St. Cyr. Send 95c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE HIDDEN SPRING.</b> By Roberto Bracco. A
-drama in four acts, translated by Dirce St. Cyr. Send
-95c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE DRAMA LEAGUE SERIES.</b> A series of modern
-plays, published for the Drama League of America.
-Attractively bound.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<a id="page-38" class="pagenum" title="38"></a>
-<b>THE THIEF.</b> By Henry Bernstein. (Just Out).
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>A FALSE SAINT.</b> By Francois de Curel.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE TRAIL OF THE TORCH.</b> By Paul Hervieu.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>MY LADY’S DRESS.</b> By Edward Knoblauch.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>A WOMAN’S WAY.</b> By Thompson Buchanan.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE APOSTLE.</b> By Paul Hyacinthe Loyson.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Each of the above books 82c, postpaid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>DRAMATIC WORKS, VOLUME VI.</b> By Gerhart
-Hauptmann. The sixth volume, containing three of
-Hauptmann’s later plays. Send $1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE DAWN (Les Aubes).</b> A symbolic war play, by
-Emile Verhaeren, the poet of the Belgians. “The
-author approaches life through the feelings and passions.
-His dramas express the vitality and strenuousness of
-his people.” Send $1.10.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE GREEK COMMONWEALTH.</b> By Alfred A.
-Zimmern. Send $3.00.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>EURIPIDES</b>: “Hippolytus,” “Bacchae,” Aristophanes’
-“Frogs.” Translated by Gilbert Murray. Send $1.75.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE TROJAN WOMEN.</b> Translated by Gilbert Murray.
-Send 85c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>MEDEA.</b> Translated by Gilbert Murray. Send 85c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>ELECTRA.</b> Translated by Gilbert Murray. Send 85c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>ANCIENT GREEK LITERATURE.</b> By Gilbert Murray.
-Send $2.10.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>EURIPIDES AND HIS AGE.</b> By Gilbert Murray.
-Send 75c.
-</p>
-
-<p class="h4 adh">
-GENERAL
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>VAGRANT MEMORIES</b>. By William Winter. Illustrated.
-The famous dramatic critic tells of his associations with the
-drama for two generations. Send $3.25.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE NEARING CASE.</b> By Lightner Witmer. A complete
-account of the dismissal of Professor Nearing from the
-University of Pennsylvania, containing the indictment, the
-evidence, the arguments, the summing up and all the important
-papers in the case, with some indication of its importance
-to the question of free speech. 60c postpaid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE ART OF THE MOVING PICTURE.</b> By Vachel Lindsay.
-Send $1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>WRITING AND SELLING A PLAY.</b> By Fanny Cannon.
-A practical book by a woman who is herself an actress, a
-playwright, a professional reader and critic of play manuscripts,
-and has also staged and directed plays. Send $1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>GLIMPSES OF THE COSMOS.</b> A Mental Autobiography.
-By Lester F. Ward. Vol. IV. The fourth in the series
-of eight volumes which will contain the collected essays
-of Dr. Ward. Send $2.65.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>EVERYMAN’S ENCYCLOPEDIA</b> is the cure for inefficiency.
-It is the handiest and cheapest form of modern collected
-knowledge, and should be in every classroom, every office,
-every home. <b>Twelve volumes in box. Cloth.</b> Send $6.00.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Three Other Styles of Binding. Mail your order today.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>NIETZSCHE.</b> By Dr. Georg Brandes, the discoverer
-of Nietzsche. Send $1.25.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>WAR AND CULTURE.</b> By John Cowper Powys. Send 70c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>SHATTUCK’S PARLIAMENTARY ANSWERS.</b> By Harriette
-R. Shattuck. Alphabetically arranged for all questions
-likely to arise in Women’s organizations. 16mo. Cloth.
-67c postpaid. Flexible Leather Edition. Full Gilt Edges.
-Net $1.10 postpaid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>EAT AND GROW THIN.</b> By Vance Thompson. A collection
-of the hitherto unpublished Mahdah menus and recipes for
-which Americans have been paying fifty-guinea fees to
-fashionable physicians in order to escape the tragedy of
-growing fat. Cloth. Send $1.10.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>FORTY THOUSAND QUOTATIONS.</b> By Charles Noel
-Douglas. These 40,000 prose and poetical quotations are
-selected from standard authors of ancient and modern times,
-are classified according to subject, fill 2,000 pages, and are
-provided with a thumb index. $3.15, postpaid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE CRY FOR JUSTICE.</b> An anthology of the literature
-of social protest, edited by Upton Sinclair. Introduction
-by Jack London. “The work is world-literature, as
-well as the Gospel of a universal humanism.” Contains the
-writings of philosophers, poets, novelists, social reformers,
-selected from twenty-five languages, covering a period of five
-thousand years. Inspiring to every thinking man and woman;
-a handbook of reference to all students of social conditions.
-955 pages, including 32 illustrations. <b>Cloth Binding</b>, vellum
-cloth, price very low for so large a book. Send $2.00.
-<b>Three-quarter Leather Binding</b>, a handsome and durable
-library style, specially suitable for presentation. Send $3.50.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>MY CHILDHOOD.</b> By Maxim Gorky. The autobiography
-of the famous Russian novelist up to his seventeenth year.
-An astounding human document and an explanation (perhaps
-unconscious) of the Russian national character. Frontispiece
-portrait. 8vo. 308 pages. $2.00 net, postage 10 cents.
-(Ready Oct. 14).
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>AFFIRMATIONS.</b> By Havelock Ellis. A discussion of
-some of the fundamental questions of life and morality as
-expressed in, or suggested by, literature. The subjects of the
-five studies are Nietzsche, Zola, Huysmans, Casanova and St.
-Francis of Assisi. Send $1.87.
-</p>
-
-<p class="h4 adh">
-LITERATURE
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>COMPLETE WORKS.</b> Maurice Maeterlinck. The Essays,
-10 vols., per vol., net $1.75. The Plays, 8 vols., per vol.,
-net $1.50. Poems, 1 vol., net $1.50. Volumes sold separately.
-In uniform style, 19 volumes. Limp green leather, flexible
-cover, thin paper, gilt top, 12mo. Postage added.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>INTERPRETATIONS OF LITERATURE.</b> By Lafcadio
-Hearn. A remarkable work. Lafcadio Hearn became as
-nearly Japanese as an Occidental can become. English literature
-is interpreted from a new angle in this book. Send
-$6.50.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>BERNARD SHAW: A Critical Study.</b> By P. P. Howe.
-Send $2.15.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>MAURICE MAETERLINCK: A Critical Study.</b> By Una
-Taylor. 8vo. Send $2.15.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>W. B. YEATS: A Critical Study.</b> By Forest Reid. Send
-$2.15.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>DEAD SOULS.</b> Nikolai Gogol’s great humorous classic
-translated from the Russian. Send $1.25.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>ENJOYMENT OF POETRY.</b> By Max Eastman. “His
-book is a masterpiece,” says J. B. Kerfoot in Life.
-By mail, $1.35.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE PATH OF GLORY.</b> By Anatole France. Illustrated.
-8vo. Cloth. An English edition of a remarkable
-book that M. Anatole France has written to be sold for the
-benefit of disabled soldiers. The original French is printed
-alongside the English translation. Send $1.35.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE PILLAR OF FIRE</b>: A Profane Baccalaureate. By
-Seymour Deming. Takes up and treats with satire and with
-logical analysis such questions as, What is a college education?
-What is a college man? What is the aristocracy of
-intellect?—searching pitilessly into and through the whole
-question of collegiate training for life. Send $1.10.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>IVORY APES AND PEACOCKS.</b> By James Huneker. A
-collection of essays in Mr. Huneker’s well-known brilliant
-style, of which some are critical discussions upon the work
-and personality of Conrad, Whitman, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky,
-and the younger Russians, while others deal with music,
-art, and social topics. The title is borrowed from the
-manifest of Solomon’s ship trading with Tarshish. Send
-$1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>INTERPRETATIONS OF ENGLISH LITERATURE.</b> By
-Lafcadio Hearn. Two volumes. Mr. Hearn, who was at
-once a scholar, a genius, and a master of English style,
-interprets in this volume the literature of which he was a
-student, its masterpieces, and its masters, for the benefit,
-originally, of the race of his adoption. $6.50, postpaid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>IDEALS AND REALITIES IN RUSSIAN LITERATURE.</b>
-By Prince Kropotkin. Send $1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>VISIONS AND REVISIONS.</b> By John Cowper Powys. A
-Book of Literary Devotions. Send $2.10.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>SIX FRENCH POETS.</b> By Amy Lowell. First English
-book to contain a minute and careful study of Verhaeren,
-Albert Samain, Remy de Gourmont, Henri de Régnier, Francis
-Jammes and Paul Fort. Send $2.75.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>LANDMARKS IN RUSSIAN LITERATURE.</b> By Maurice
-Baring. Intimate studies of Tolstoi, Turgenev, Gogol, Chekov,
-Dostoevsky. Send $2.00.
-</p>
-
-<p class="h4 adh">
-<a id="page-39" class="pagenum" title="39"></a>
-FICTION
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE TURMOIL.</b> By Booth Tarkington. A beautiful story
-of young love and modern business. Send $1.45.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>SET OF SIX.</b> By Joseph Conrad. Short stories. Scribner.
-Send $1.50.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>AN ANARCHIST WOMAN.</b> By H. Hapgood. This extraordinary
-novel points out the nature, the value and also
-the tragic limitations of the social rebel. Published at
-$1.25 net; our price, 60c., postage paid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE HARBOR.</b> By Ernest Poole. A novel of remarkable
-power and vision in which are depicted the great changes
-taking place in American life, business and ideals. Send
-$1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>MAXIM GORKY.</b> Twenty-six and One and other stories
-from the Vagabond Series. Published at $1.25; our price
-60c., postage paid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>SANINE.</b> By Artzibashef. The sensational Russian novel
-now obtainable in English. Send $1.45.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>A FAR COUNTRY.</b> Winston Churchill’s new novel is
-another realistic and faithful picture of contemporary American
-life, and more daring than “The Inside of the Cup.” Send
-$1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>BOON—THE MIND OF THE RACE.</b> Was it written
-by H. G. Wells? He now admits it may have been. It
-contains an “ambiguous introduction” by him. Anyhow it’s
-a rollicking set of stories, written to delight you. Send $1.45.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>NEVER TOLD TALES.</b> Presents in the form of fiction,
-in language which is simplicity itself, the disastrous results
-of sexual ignorance. The book is epoch-making; it has
-reached the ninth edition. It should be read by everyone,
-physician and layman, especially those contemplating marriage.
-Cloth. Send $1.10.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>PAN’S GARDEN.</b> By Algernon Blackwood. Send $1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE CROCK OF GOLD.</b> By James Stephens. Send $1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE INVISIBLE EVENT.</b> By J. D. Beresford. Jacob
-Stahl, writer and weakling, splendidly finds himself in the
-love of a superb woman. Send $1.45. The Jacob Stahl
-trilogy: “The Early History of Jacob Stahl,” “A Candidate
-for Truth,” “The Invisible Event.” Three volumes, boxed.
-Send $2.75.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>OSCAR WILDE’S WORKS.</b> Ravenna edition. Red limp
-leather. Sold separately. The books are: The Picture of
-Dorian Gray, Lord Arthur Saville’s Crime, and the Portrait
-of Mr. W. H., The Duchess of Padua, Poems (including
-“The Sphinx,” “The Ballad of Reading Gaol,” and Uncollected
-Pieces), Lady Windermere’s Fan, A Woman of No
-Importance, An Ideal Husband, The Importance of Being
-Earnest, A House of Pomegranates, Intentions, De Profundis
-and Prison Letters, Essays (“Historical Criticism,” “English
-Renaissance,” “London Models,” “Poems in Prose”), Salome,
-La Sainte Courtisane. Send $1.35 for each book.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE RAT-PIT.</b> By Patrick MacGill. A novel by the
-navvy-poet who sprang suddenly into attention with his
-“Children of the Dead End.” This story is mainly about a
-boarding house in Glasgow called “The Rat-Pit,” and the
-very poor who are its frequenters. Send $1.35.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE AMETHYST RING.</b> By Anatole France. Translated
-by B. Drillien. $1.85 postpaid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>CRAINQUEBILLE.</b> By Anatole France. Translated by
-Winifred Stevens. The story of a costermonger who is
-turned from a dull-witted and inoffensive creature by the
-hounding of the police and the too rigorous measures of the
-law into a desperado. Send $1.85.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>VIOLETTE OF PERE LACHAISE.</b> By Anna Strunsky
-Walling. Records the spiritual development of a gifted
-young woman who becomes an actress and devotes herself
-to the social revolution. Send $1.10.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE “GENIUS.”</b> By Theodore Dreiser. Send $1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>JERUSALEM.</b> By Selma Lagerlof. Translated by Velma
-Swanston. The scene is a little Swedish village whose inhabitants
-are bound in age-old custom and are asleep in
-their narrow provincial life. The story tells of their awakening,
-of the tremendous social and religious upheaval that
-takes place among them, and of the heights of self-sacrifice
-to which they mount. Send $1.45.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>BREAKING-POINT.</b> By Michael Artzibashef. A comprehensive
-picture of modern Russian life by the author of
-“Sanine.” Send $1.35.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>RUSSIAN SILHOUETTES.</b> By Anton Tchekoff. Translated
-by Marian Fell. Stories which reveal the Russian
-mind, nature and civilization. Send $1.47.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE FREELANDS.</b> By John Galsworthy. Gives a large
-and vivid presentation of English life under the stress of
-modern social conflict, centering upon a romance of boy-and-girl
-love—that theme in which Galsworthy excels all
-his contemporaries. Send $1.45.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>FIDELITY.</b> Susan Glaspell’s greatest novel. The author
-calls it “The story of a woman’s love—of what that love
-impels her to do—what it makes of her.” Send $1.45.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>WOOD AND STONE.</b> By John Cowper Powys. An Epoch
-Making Novel. Send $1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>RED FLEECE.</b> By Will Levington Comfort. A story of the
-Russian revolutionists and the proletariat in general in the
-Great War, and how they risk execution by preaching peace
-even in the trenches. Exciting, understanding, and everlastingly
-true; for Comfort himself is soldier and revolutionist as
-well as artist. He is our American Artsibacheff; one of
-the very few American masters of the “new fiction.” Send
-$1.35.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE STAR ROVER.</b> By Jack London. Frontispiece in
-colors by Jay Hambidge. A man unjustly accused of murder
-is sentenced to imprisonment and finally sent to execution,
-but proves the supremacy of mind over matter by succeeding,
-after long practice, in loosing his spirit from his
-body and sending it on long quests through the universe,
-finally cheating the gallows in this way. Send $1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE RESEARCH MAGNIFICENT.</b> By H. G. Wells. Tells
-the story of the life of one man, with its many complications
-with the lives of others, both men and women of varied
-station, and his wanderings over many parts of the globe in
-his search for the best and noblest kind of life. $1.60,
-postpaid.
-</p>
-
-<p class="h4 adh">
-SEXOLOGY
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Here is the great sex book of the day: Forel’s <b>THE
-SEXUAL QUESTION</b>. A scientific, psychological, hygienic,
-legal and sociological work for the cultured classes. By
-Europe’s foremost nerve specialist. Chapter on “love and
-other irradiations of the sexual appetite” a profound revelation
-of human emotions. Degeneracy exposed. Birth control
-discussed. Should be in the hands of all dealing with
-domestic relations. Medical edition $5.50. Same book,
-cheaper binding, now $1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Painful childbirth in this age of scientific progress is unnecessary.
-<b>THE TRUTH ABOUT TWILIGHT SLEEP</b>, by
-Hanna Rion (Mrs. Ver Beck), is a message to mothers by
-an American mother, presenting with authority and deep
-human interest the impartial and conclusive evidence of a
-personal investigation of the Freiburg method of painless
-childbirth. Send $1.62.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>FREUD’S THEORIES OF THE NEUROSES.</b> By Dr. E.
-Hitschmann. A brief and clear summary of Freud’s theories.
-Price, $2.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>PLAIN FACTS ABOUT A GREAT EVIL.</b> By Christobel
-Pankhurst. One of the strongest and frankest books ever
-written, depicting the dangers of promiscuity in men. This
-book was once suppressed by Anthony Comstock. Send
-(paper) 60c, (cloth) $1.10.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>SEXUAL LIFE OF WOMAN.</b> By Dr. E. Heinrich Kisch
-(Prague). An epitome of the subject. Sold only to physicians,
-jurists, clergymen and educators. Send $5.50.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>KRAFFT-EBING’S PSYCHOPATHIA SEXUALIS.</b> Only
-authorized English translation of 12th German Edition. By
-F. J. Rebman. Sold only to physicians, jurists, clergymen
-and educators. Price, $4.35. Special thin paper edition,
-$1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE SMALL FAMILY SYSTEM: IS IT IMMORAL OR
-INJURIOUS?</b> By Dr. C. V. Drysdale. The question of
-birth control cannot be intelligently discussed without knowledge
-of the facts and figures herein contained. $1.10, postpaid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>MAN AND WOMAN.</b> By Dr. Havelock Ellis, the foremost
-authority on sexual characteristics. A new (5th) edition.
-Send $1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-A new book by Dr. Robinson: <b>THE LIMITATION OF
-OFFSPRING BY THE PREVENTION OF PREGNANCY</b>.
-The enormous benefits of the practice to individuals, society
-and the race pointed out and all objections answered. Send
-$1.05.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>WHAT EVERY GIRL SHOULD KNOW.</b> By Margaret
-Sanger. Send 55 cents.
-</p>
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-<p>
-<b>WHAT EVERY MOTHER SHOULD KNOW.</b> By Margaret
-Sanger. Send 30 cents.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS.</b> By Dr. C. Jung.
-A concise statement of the present aspects of the psychoanalytic
-hypotheses. Price, $1.50.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<a id="page-40" class="pagenum" title="40"></a>
-<b>SELECTED PAPERS ON HYSTERIA AND OTHER
-PSYCHONEUROSES.</b> By Prof. S. Freud, M.D. A selection
-of some of the more important of Freud’s writings.
-Send $2.50.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THREE CONTRIBUTIONS TO SEXUAL THEORY.</b> By
-John C. Van Dyke. Fully illustrated. New edition revised
-and rewritten. Send $1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THREE CONTRIBUTIONS TO SEXUAL THEORY.</b> By
-Prof. Sigmund Freud. The psychology of psycho-sexual
-development. Price, $2.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>FUNCTIONAL PERIODICITY.</b> An experimental study of
-the mental and motor abilities of women during menstruation
-by Leta Stetter Hollingworth. Cloth, $1.15. Paper, 85c.
-</p>
-
-<p class="h4 adh">
-ART
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>MICHAEL ANGELO.</b> By Romain Rolland. Twenty-two
-full-page illustrations. A critical and illuminating exposition
-of the genius of Michael Angelo. $2.65, postpaid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>INTERIOR DECORATION: ITS PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE.</b>
-By Frank Alvah Parsons. Illustrated. $3.25, postpaid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE BARBIZON PAINTERS.</b> By Arthur Hoeber. One
-hundred illustrations in sepia, reproducing characteristic work
-of the school. $1.90, postpaid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE BOOK OF MUSICAL KNOWLEDGE.</b> By Arthur
-Elson. Illustrated. Gives in outline a general musical education,
-the evolution and history of music, the lives and
-works of the great composers, the various musical forms and
-their analysis, the instruments and their use, and several
-special topics. $3.75, postpaid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>MODERN PAINTING: ITS TENDENCY AND MEANING.</b>
-By Willard Huntington Wright, author of “What Nietzsche
-Taught,” etc. Four color plates and 24 illustrations. “Modern
-Painting” gives—for the first time in any language—a
-clear, compact review of all the important activities of
-modern art which began with Delacroix and ended only with
-the war. Send $2.75.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE ROMANCE OF LEONARDO DA VINCI.</b> By A. J.
-Anderson. Photogravure frontispiece and 16 illustrations in
-half-tone. Sets forth the great artist as a man so profoundly
-interested in and closely allied with every movement
-of his age that he might be called an incarnation of the
-Renaissance. $3.95, postpaid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE COLOUR OF PARIS.</b> By Lucien Descaves. Large
-8vo. New edition, with 60 illustrations printed in four
-colors from paintings by the Japanese artist, Yoshio Markino.
-By the members of the Academy Goncourt under the general
-editorship of M. Lucien Descaves. Send $3.30.
-</p>
-
-<p class="h4 adh">
-SCIENCE AND SOCIOLOGY
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>CAUSES AND CURES OF CRIME.</b> A popular study of
-criminology from the bio-social viewpoint. By Thomas Speed
-Mosby, former Pardon Attorney, State of Missouri, member
-American Institute of Criminal Law and Criminology, etc.
-356 pages, with 100 original illustrations. Price, $2.15,
-postpaid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE PSYCHOLOGY OF RELAXATION.</b> By G. T. W.
-Patrick. A notable and unusually interesting volume explaining
-the importance of sports, laughter, profanity, the
-use of alcohol and even war as furnishing needed relaxation
-to the higher nerve centres. Send 88c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>PSYCHOLOGY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS.</b> By Dr. C. G.
-Jung, of the University of Zurich. Translated by Beatrice
-M. Hinkle, M.D., of the Neurological Department of Cornell
-University and the New York Post-Graduate Medical
-School. This remarkable work does for psychology what the
-theory of evolution did for biology; and promises an equally
-profound change in the thought of mankind. A very important
-book. Large 8vo. Send $4.40.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>SOCIALIZED GERMANY.</b> By Frederic C. Howe, author
-of “The Modern City and Its Problems,” etc., etc.; Commissioner
-of Immigration at the Port of New York. “The real
-peril to the other powers of western civilization lies in the
-fact that Germany is more intelligently organized than the
-rest of the world.” This book is a frank attempt to explain
-this efficiency. $1.00, postpaid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>SCIENTIFIC INVENTIONS OF TODAY.</b> Illustrated. By
-T. W. Corbin. The modern uses of explosives, electricity,
-and the most interesting kinds of chemicals are revealed to
-young and old. Send $1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE HUNTING WASPS.</b> By J. Henri Fabre. 12mo.
-Bound in uniform style with the other books by the same
-author. In the same exquisite vein as “The Life of the
-Spider,” “The Life of the Fly,” etc. Send $1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>SCHOOLS OF TOMORROW.</b> By John Dewey and Evelyn
-Dewey. Illustrated. A study of a number of the schools
-of this country which are using advanced methods of experimenting
-with new ideas in the teaching and management
-of children. The practical methods are described and the
-spirit which informs them is analyzed and discussed. Send
-$1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE RHYTHM OF LIFE.</b> By Charles Brodie Patterson.
-A discussion of harmony in music and color, and its influence
-on thought and character. $1.60, postpaid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE FAITHFUL.</b> By John Masefield. A three-act tragedy
-founded on a famous legend of Japan. $1.35, postpaid.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>INCOME.</b> By Scott Nearing. An economic value is created
-amounting to, say, $100. What part of that is returned
-to the laborer, what part to the manager, what part
-to the property owner? This problem the author discusses
-in detail, after which the other issues to which it leads
-are presented. Send $1.25.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE STOIC PHILOSOPHY.</b> By Gilbert Murray. An
-account of the greatest system of organized thought that the
-mind of man had built up in the Graeco-Roman world
-before the coming of Christianity. Dr. Murray exercises his
-rare faculty for making himself clear and interesting.
-Send 82c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>A MESSAGE TO THE MIDDLE CLASS.</b> By Seymour
-Deming. A clarion call so radical that it may well provoke
-a great tumult of discussion and quicken a deep and perhaps
-sinister impulse to act. Send 60c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>DRIFT AND MASTERY.</b> An attempt to diagnose the current
-unrest. By Walter Lippmann. Send $1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>FIRST AND LAST THINGS.</b> By H. G. Wells. A confession
-of Faith and a Rule of Life. Send $1.60.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>THE SOCIALISTS AND THE WAR.</b> By William English
-Walling. No Socialist can adequately discuss the war without
-the knowledge that this remarkable new book holds.
-512 pages. Complete documentary statement of the position
-of the Socialists of all countries. Send $1.50.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>DREAMS AND MYTHS.</b> By Dr. Karl Abraham. A lucid
-presentation of Freud’s theory of dreams. A study in comparative
-mythology from the standpoint of dream psychology.
-Price, $1.25.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>WHAT WOMEN WANT.</b> By Beatrice Forbes-Robertson
-Hale. $1.35 net; postage, 10c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>ARE WOMEN PEOPLE?</b> A collection of clever woman suffrage
-verses. The best since Mrs. Gilman. Geo. H. Doran
-Co. Send 75c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>HOW IT FEELS TO BE THE HUSBAND OF A SUFFRAGETTE.</b>
-By “Him.” Illustrated by Mary Wilson Preston.
-Send 60c.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>ON DREAMS.</b> By Prof. Sigmund Freud. Authorized
-English translation by Dr. M. D. Eder. Introduction by
-Prof. W. Leslie Mackenzie. This classic now obtainable for
-$1.10.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>MODERN WOMEN.</b> By Gustav Kobbe. Terse, pithy,
-highly dramatic studies in the overwrought feminism of the
-day. A clever book. Send $1.10.
-</p>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p class="u ade">
-<span class="larger">GOTHAM BOOK SOCIETY</span><br />
-Marlen E. Pew, Gen. Mgr., Dept. K, 142 West 23rd St., New York<br />
-“You Can Get Any Book on Any Subject”
-</p>
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-</div>
-
-<div class="ads chapter">
-<a id="page-41" class="pagenum" title="41"></a>
- <div class="box">
-<p class="h2 adh">
-THE BLAST
-</p>
-
-<p>
-These days of great struggles urgently demand a militant labor voice to aid
-the workers in their battles.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<em>The Blast</em> will be such a voice. A revolutionary labor weekly, edited by
-ALEXANDER BERKMAN.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The time has come to gather together, so to speak, the scattered forces of
-discontent and help them find definite expression.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-I am planning to have for <em>The Blast</em> regular correspondences from the
-various industrial centers of America, Europe and Australia. I hold that one
-of the most important things in the publication of a revolutionary weekly is to
-keep the rebels throughout the world in closer touch with each other and informed
-of the labor and revolutionary situation in the different countries. It
-helps to stimulate the spirit of solidarity and encourage activity.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The other departments of <em>The Blast</em> will be: a strong anti-militarism and
-anti-preparedness column; a page dealing with the vital, social and economic
-questions; a “Chain Gang” department, containing news from Labor’s prisoners
-of war—on trial and in prison—stories of prison life, etc.; a column devoted to
-the discussion of special labor questions and general human problems; a Children’s
-Department, with the view of ultimately establishing a circle of Ferrer
-Schools throughout the country.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-First issue of <em>The Blast</em>, January 15th, 1916.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The life of the paper and the success of its work will depend upon <em>your</em>
-interest and co-operation.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Send subscriptions or contributions to <em>The Blast</em>, Box 661, San Francisco.
-</p>
-
- </div>
- <div class="box">
-<p class="h1 adh">
-<span class="underline">REVOLT</span>
-</p>
-
-<p class="c">
-<em>The stormy petrel of the revolutionary movement.</em>
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Men and women active in the combat for emancipation will supply news
-from the firing line. Some of our best writers and artists promised their co-operation.
-</p>
-
-<p class="ade">
-HIPPOLYTE HAVEL, Editor. ROBERT MINOR, Cartoonist.
-</p>
-
-<p class="h3 adh">
-<em>ADVISORY BOARD</em>:
-</p>
-
-<p class="u c">
-Leonard D. Abbott<br />
-Elizabeth Gurley Flynn<br />
-Alexander Berkman<br />
-Harry Kelly<br />
-Margaret H. Sanger
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Are you interested in our efforts? If so send in your subscription or contribution.
-No funds are behind our undertaking.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Mail your subscription or contribution to the
-</p>
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-<p class="ade">
-<em>REVOLT</em>, 30 Lexington Ave., New York, N. Y.
-</p>
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-<p class="adp">
-One Year 1.00 Six Months 50 cents Three Months 25 cents
-</p>
-
- </div>
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-<div class="ads chapter">
-<a id="page-42" class="pagenum" title="42"></a>
-<div class="centerpic poetry fl">
-<img src="images/poetry.jpg" alt="" /></div>
-
- <div class="hidden">
-<p class="h1 adh">
-Poetry
-</p>
-
-<p class="h3 adh">
-A Magazine of Verse
-</p>
-
- </div>
-<p class="u fr b c">
-543 Cass Street<br />
-Chicago
-</p>
-
-<p class="cb">
-<span class="smallcaps">Padraic Colum</span>, the distinguished Irish poet and lecturer, says: “POETRY
-is the best magazine, by far, in the English language. We have nothing in
-England or Ireland to compare with it.”
-</p>
-
-<p>
-William Marion Reedy, Editor of the St. Louis <em>Mirror</em>, says: “POETRY
-has been responsible for the Renaissance in that art. You have done a great
-service to the children of light in this country.”
-</p>
-
-<p>
-CAN YOU AFFORD TO DO WITHOUT SO IMPORTANT A MAGAZINE?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-POETRY publishes the best verse now being written in English, and its
-prose section contains brief articles on subjects connected with the art, also reviews
-of the new verse.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-POETRY has introduced more new poets of importance than all the other
-American magazines combined, besides publishing the work of poets already distinguished.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-THE ONLY MAGAZINE DEVOTED EXCLUSIVELY TO THIS ART.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-SUBSCRIBE AT ONCE. A subscription to POETRY is the best way of
-paying interest on your huge debt to the great poets of the past. It encourages
-living poets to do for the future what dead poets have done for modern civilization,
-for you.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-One year—12 numbers—U. S. A., $1.50; Canada, $1.65; foreign, $1.75
-(7 shillings).
-</p>
-
-<hr />
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-<p class="u ade">
-POETRY<br />
-543 Cass Street, Chicago.
-</p>
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-<p class="u">
-Send POETRY for one year ($1.50 enclosed) beginning .........<br />
-.......................................................... to<br />
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-<div class="ads chapter">
-<a id="page-43" class="pagenum" title="43"></a>
- <div class="box">
-<p>
-<span class="larger">You should know that in the February number of “THE
-DRAMA” there will be published for the first time in English a
-play by Artzibashef. It is a war drama which has stimulated thinking
-people in Russia to think some more. A penetrating study of
-Eugene Walter as the leader of dramatic realism in America and
-a scintillating essay on the folly of theatrical advertising are two of
-other articles which combine to make the February issue invaluable
-to people who are interested not only in drama but in life.</span>
-</p>
-
-<p class="hang">
-We should like to announce that we have on sale back numbers of “The Drama”
-with the following plays in them: Galdos’ <em>Electra</em>, Bjornson’s <em>Leonarda</em>,
-Becque’s <em>The Crown</em>, Hebbel’s <em>Herod and Marriamne</em>, Schnitzler’s <em>Light-O’-Love</em>,
-Heijerman’s <em>The Good Hope</em>, Freytag’s <em>The Journalists</em>, Giacosa’s
-<em>The Stronger</em>, Donnay’s <em>The Other Danger</em>, Gillette’s <em>Electricity</em>, Andreyev’s
-<em>The Pretty Sabine Women</em>, Goldoni’s <em>The Squabbles of Chioggia</em>, Capus’
-<em>The Adventurer</em>, and Augier’s <em>The Marriage of Olympe</em>.
-</p>
-
-<p class="hang">
-These plays can be obtained by the sending of seventy-five cents to the office of
-The Drama Quarterly, 736 Marquette Bldg., Chicago.
-</p>
-
- </div>
- <div class="box">
-<p>
-In entering upon its third year, THE MISCELLANY
-feels that it has found a place in “the order of things.”
-A specimen copy will be sent to readers of THE LITTLE
-REVIEW. Issued quarterly; one dollar per year.
-</p>
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-<p class="u ade">
-<span class="larger"><b>THE MISCELLANY</b></span><br />
-17 Board of Trade Building, Kansas City, Missouri.
-</p>
-
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-</div>
-
-<div class="ads chapter">
-<a id="page-44" class="pagenum" title="44"></a>
-<p class="h3 adh">
-We do with Talking Machines what Ford did with Autos
-</p>
-
-<p class="h1 u adh">
-<span class="underline">YOU ASK</span> <span class="larger">WHY</span> THIS<br />
-BEAUTIFUL, <span class="underline">LARGE SIZE</span><br />
-<span class="musigraph fr"><img src="images/musigraph.jpg" alt="" /></span>
-TALKING MACHINE<br />
-SELLS FOR ONLY<br />
-<span class="larger">$10</span>
-</p>
-
-<p class="cb vspace">
-&nbsp;
-</p>
-
- <div class="box w40 fr s">
-<p>
-Size 15¾ inches at base: 8½ high. Ask for
-oak or mahogany finish. Nickel plated,
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-Edison, Victor, Columbia and other disc
-records, 10 and 12 inches. Worm gear
-motor. Threaded winding shaft. Plays 2
-ten-inch records with one winding—Tone
-controlling door. Neat and solidly made.
-</p>
-
- </div>
-<p>
-If you have never been willing to spend
-$25 for a talking machine this is your chance.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The MUSIGRAPH is as large, good-looking,
-right-sounding as machines selling for $25.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-How do we do it? Here’s the answer: Gigantic
-profits have been made from $25 machines because of
-patent right monopoly. Millions have gone for advertising
-$25 machines, and these millions came back
-from the public. The attempt is to make $25 the standard price. It’s too much.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The trust price game is broken. Here is a machine which gives perfect satisfaction
-(guaranteed) for only <b>$10</b>. It will fill your home with dancing, good music, fun and happiness.
-<b>Money back if it isn’t as represented.</b> MUSIGRAPHS are selling by the
-thousands. People who can afford it buy showy autos, but common-sense people gladly ride
-Fords—both get over the ground. Same way with talking machines, only the MUSIGRAPH
-looks and works like the high-priced instruments.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>WHAT BETTER CHRISTMAS GIFT CAN YOU THINK OF? Musigraphs
-play any standard disc record, high-priced or even the little five and
-ten cent records. Hurry your order to make sure of Christmas delivery.</b>
-</p>
-
-<p>
-We are advertising these big bargain machines through our customers—one MUSIGRAPH
-in use sells a <b>dozen more</b>.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-One cash payment is our plan. So to-day, <b>to insure Christmas delivery</b>, send $10,
-by P. O. money order, check, draft, express order or postage stamps. All we ask is that you
-tell your neighbors how to get a MUSIGRAPH for only $10.
-</p>
-
- <div class="box w40 fl s">
-<p class="h3 adh">
-GUARANTEE.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-This machine is as represented, both as to
-materials and workmanship, for a period of
-one year. If the MUSIGRAPH is not as
-represented send it back immediately and
-</p>
-
-<p class="c">
-<b>Get your money back.</b>
-</p>
-
- </div>
-<p class="u ade">
-Address <span class="larger"><b>MUSIGRAPH</b></span>, Dept. K<br />
-Distributors Advertising Service (Inc.)<br />
-<b>142 West 23rd Street, New York City</b>
-</p>
-
-<p class="cb vspace">
-&nbsp;
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="ads chapter">
-<a id="page-45" class="pagenum" title="45"></a>
-<p class="u h1 adb">
-THE<br />
-SEXUAL<br />
-QUESTION
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Heretofore sold by subscription, only to physicians. Now offered to the public.
-Written in plain terms. Former price $5.50. <em>Now sent prepaid for $1.60.</em> This
-is the revised and enlarged Marshall English translation. Send check, money
-order or stamps.
-</p>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p class="h2 adh">
-Ignorance Is the Great Curse!
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Do you know, for instance, the scientific difference between love and passion?
-Human life is full of hideous exhibits of wretchedness due to ignorance of sexual
-normality.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Stupid, pernicious prudery long has blinded us to sexual truth. Science was
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