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diff --git a/old/67467-0.txt b/old/67467-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 426603b..0000000 --- a/old/67467-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3079 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Little Review, March 1916 (Vol. 3, -No. 1), by Various - -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, March 1916 (Vol. 3, No. 1) - -Author: Various - -Editor: Margaret C. Anderson - -Release Date: February 22, 2022 [eBook #67467] - -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, MARCH 1916 -(VOL. 3, NO. 1) *** - - - - - - THE LITTLE REVIEW - - - Literature Drama Music Art - - MARGARET C. ANDERSON - EDITOR - - MARCH 1916 - - Cheap Helen Hoyt - Art and Anarchism Margaret C. Anderson - Stravinsky’s “Grotesques” Amy Lowell - Vibrant Life Sherwood Anderson - Don’ts for Critics Alice Corbin Henderson - Poems: Jeanne D’Orge - The Cup - The Stranger - The Kiss - The Interpreter - The Sealed Package - Memories - The Russian Ballet Charles Zwaska - Editorials - Propaganda - Poems: Richard Aldington - Bloomsbury Square - Epigram - Lollipop Venders Lupo de Braila - Vers Libre Prize Contest - A. Neil Lyons Allan Ross Macdougall - 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. III - - MARCH, 1916 - - NO. 1 - - Copyright, 1916, by Margaret C. Anderson - - - - - Cheap - - - HELEN HOYT - - After all, what does a man amount to? - It only takes some twenty—thirty—years or so - To make a man, with everything complete. - Longer, it is true, than growing cabbages - Or currant bushes, or a cow,— - Or a fair-sized hog; - But not so very long, and there’s always time. - When breeding’s good we get them fast enough.... - Merely a matter of waiting till they grow.... - Some food and clothes must be supplied— - And shelter—and all that— - But it’s surprising (in fact, without statistics, - A person would scarcely believe it possible) - How very little a man can live upon - From birth until he reaches the enlisting age. - - For first he has to be born, of course, - And that takes time,—makes us some trouble too— - But it’s a simple matter on the whole, - And not expensive: not at all expensive: - You see, the women are the ones that attend to this - And they work cheap. - They _pour_ men from their bodies. - Always pleased to undertake affairs of this sort, - Women are,—O, most delighted. It’s their way. - - Willing and lavish: it doesn’t cost them much. - They only have to give some flesh and bone - And blood; and perhaps, one might say, - A scrap of soul, to make the creature go; - But these things nature furnishes; - They’re free and plenty: - And after a man’s once started, he’s not long growing; - There’s always a generation on the way: - More than we want, sometimes, or there is room for. - - Lord, how they swarm! In the cities like flies. - If only horses were so plentiful! - If only horses could be foddered so lightly - And bedded so many to a stall as men! - - Certainly, men are less of a bother - And also, think what men do for you that a horse can’t. - You cannot teach a horse to hold a gun. - A horse can’t shoot or burn or pillage or murder well in the least. - And too, a man has this convenient feature, - That you can make him go without whip or lash. - You only have to charm him the right way. - - Other animals you charm by dazzling radiance: - With men it’s always colors and bright sounds - (Slogans and bands and banners are the best). - Why, you can play upon them with the beat of drums - Till they are got to an energy and fury fine as a bull’s - How they will fight for you then! - Tigers and wolves and wild-cats - (Considering differences in weight and bulks of meat) - Wouldn’t fight fiercer or longer or more willingly. - - You never could train a horse to be so clever. - And therefore it’s curious, when you think of it, - That horses should come so much more dear than men. - To be sure, there isn’t the cheap source of supply - Or the same over-stock as in the case of men: - A horse is harder to raise and more expense— - More trouble; more of a responsibility: - But nevertheless, allowing for all this, - It still is curious, that difference in value.... - Now isn’t it? - Rather? - - - - - Art and Anarchism - - - MARGARET C. ANDERSON - -When “they” ask you what anarchism is, and you scuffle around for the -most convincing definition, why don’t you merely ask instead: “What is -art?” Because anarchism and art are in the world for exactly the same -kind of reason. - -An anarchist is a person who realizes the gulf that lies between -government and life; an artist is a person who realizes the gulf that -lies between life and love. The former knows that he can never get from -the government what he really needs for life; the latter knows that he -can never get from life the love he really dreams of. - -Now there is only one class of people—among the very rich or the very -poor or the very middling—that doesn’t know about these things. It is -the uneducated class. It is composed of housewives, business men, -church-goers, family egoists, club women, politicians, detectives, -debutantes, drummers, Christian Scientists, policemen, demagogues, -social climbers, ministers who recommend plays like _Experience_, etc., -etc. It even includes some who may be educated—journalists, professors, -philanthropists, patriots, “artistic” people, sentimentalists, cowards, -and the insane. It is the great middle-class mind of America. It is the -kind of mind that either doesn’t think at all or that thinks like this: -“Without the violence and the plotting there would be nothing left of -anarchism but a dead theory. Without the romance of it anarchism would -be nothing but a theory which will not work and never can until nature -has evolved something very different out of man. It is cops and robbers, -hare and hounds, Ivanhoe and E. Phillips Oppenheim all acted out in -life. It is not really dangerous to society, but only to some members of -it, because unless every one is against it there is no fun in it.” - -There is no fun talking about anarchism to people who understand it. But -it would be great fun to make the middle-class mind understand it. This -is the way I should go about it: - - * * * * * - -What things do you need in order to live? Food, clothing, shelter. What -things _must_ you have to get life out of the process of living? Love, -work, recreation. All right. - -Does the government give you the first three things? Not at all. It -isn’t the government or law or anything of that sort that gives you food -or clothes. It’s the efficient organization between those who produce -these things and those who sell them to you. And it isn’t government -that keeps that organization efficient. It’s the brains of those who -work in it. You will say that government exists to prevent that -organization from charging you too much for food and clothes. _Then why -doesn’t government do it?_ Heaven knows you’ve got all the government -you can very well use and you pay too much for everything. - -Does the government give you a house? If you happen to be an ambassador -or something like that. Not if you happen to be a mail man. Maybe some -one leaves you a house—which means that he once bought it or stole it or -had it left to him. You can do any of these three things yourself. Or -you can go without, as nearly every one else does. Sometimes the -government helps you to steal one—but not you of the middle-class. What -I want to know is why _you_ are so crazy about the government? - - * * * * * - -Now, about work. What do you call work?—spending eight hours a day in an -office to help make somebody’s business a success, and incidentally to -earn the money for your bread and butter? But that’s a third of the time -you’re given on earth. Another third has to be spent in sleep, and the -last third in eating your dinner, “spending the evening,” getting -undressed, getting dressed, eating your breakfast, and catching your -train. I call that slavery. Work is something over which you can toil -twenty-four hours a day if you feel like it, because if you don’t your -life will have no meaning. It’s like art. What has the government to do -with your work? About as much as it had to do with Marconi’s brain when -he was conceiving his wireless. - -What do you call recreation?—lounging in hotel lobbies, gossiping over -tea tables, going to the movies? All right. But what has the government -got to do with it? Or do you call it walking, riding, reading, lying in -the sun? The government doesn’t give you good legs or a motor car or -books or a stretch of beach to lie on. But it can keep some of the best -books away from you and close up the bathing beaches on the hottest -October day. Maybe you call recreation what it really means: -_re-creation_. That means the time and the leisure to invite your soul. -You’ve got government: have you got either time or leisure? - -And as for love.... You love some one who loves you, and the world is -good. Or you love some one who doesn’t love you and the world is hell. -Or you love and love and can find no one to love. Or you love and cannot -give, or love and cannot take, or maybe you cannot love at all. And -where is the government all this time? - -The government can bring you a letter from some one you love. But why -must even that be done with graft? - -Some one assaults a woman in a dark alley, you say, and where would we -be without the government? What has that to do with love, first? Now -clear up your minds: have you ever imagined why these things happen? -Because some people are vicious, you say. But every one is vicious—every -one who has life in him. You are: only you can take it out on your wife -or on whatever prostitutes you can afford, or in eating large dinners, -or in joy rides, in vulgar parties, in the movies, in luxury, in fads, -in art, even in religion. It just depends upon your type. The point is -that you have your outlets and the other wretch hasn’t. And second, -since these things are always happening and you have plenty of chances -to see how the government deals with them, the only sensible question -left for you to ask is: _Why aren’t they dealt with?_ You’ve got -government and you’ve got crime on the increase. May it be that you will -ever see this: that the thing needs _treat-ment_, not _govern-ment_? - -But if you’re talking about love.... In love you will act just like a -cave man or an Athenian or an early Christian or an Elizabethan or a -modern, like a satyr or a traveling salesman or an artist—it depends -upon your type. Governments may come and go, may change or cease to be, -and nothing remains forever except “your type.” - -But it’s just here that your government has its functions. It can do -various things. And since the value of your life depends upon the -intensity with which you love something or somebody, you might as well -recognize what your government can do for you in this regard: - -If you think that love and freedom ought to go together the government -can put you in prison. - -If you marry out of respect for the government, and grow to hate each -other, the government won’t give you a divorce out of respect for you. - -If you marry as a concession to the government, because you don’t want -to ruin your business or have your wife insulted, the government will -divorce you—and on the concession basis: but you pay for both the -concessions. - -If you believe that love is love, whether it brings you children or not, -you may be happy and prosperous, but you will not be safe. The -government can put your physician in prison. - -If you’re very poor or very ill, and ought not have children, the -government can keep information for prevention away from you; and it can -put any one who tries to give you that information in prison. - -If you should die from an abortion—and you surely will die if you -contract blood-poisoning; and you surely will do that if you must be -treated in secrecy and without skill—the government can hang your -physician. - - * * * * * - -Why are you so crazy about the government? - -Why do you want to govern anything or anybody?—even your own temper? -Nietzsche said not to preserve yourself but to discharge yourself! Why -not _use_ your temper as well as your nice moods? - -Why do you want to govern your child? To give him character? But who -ever told you that life is for the making of character? Even if it were, -you can’t give your child character. He can get it by going through a -great deal. But if you govern him successfully he won’t go through a -great deal. He will just be something that is like something else. He -won’t be himself. - -Why do you want to govern human nature? Because you want people to be -good instead of bad? But how can you tell when they’re good and when -they’re bad? Suppose you all agree that Jean Crones did a very bad -thing? If you knew Jean Crones you should probably all see at once that -he is a very good man—if he exists at all. Clear up your thinking! - - * * * * * - -Who ever told you that an anarchist wants to change human nature? Who -ever told you that an anarchist’s ideal could never be attained until -human nature had improved? Human nature will never “improve.” It doesn’t -matter much whether you have a good nature or a bad one. It’s your -thinking that counts. Clean out your minds! - -If you believe these things—no, that is not enough: if you live them—you -are an anarchist. You can be one right now. You needn’t wait for a -change in human nature, for the millennium, or for the permission of -your family. Just be one! - -You have seen that “the blind, heavy, stupid thing we call government” -can not give you a happy childhood. It cannot educate you or make you an -interesting person. It cannot give you work, art, love, or life—or death -if you think it is better to die. - - * * * * * - -And finally when you see that you can never get all the love you -imagined from life; that you are trapped, really, and must find a way -out; when you see that here where there is nothing is the way out, and -that the wonder of life begins here—when you see all this you will be an -artist, and your love that is “left over” will find its music or its -words. - - - - - Stravinsky’s Three Pieces, “Grotesques,” for String Quartets[1] - - - AMY LOWELL - - - First Movement - - Thin-voiced, nasal pipes - Drawing sound out and out - Until it is a screeching thread, - Sharp and cutting, sharp and cutting, - It hurts. - Whee-e-e! - Bump! Bump! Tong-ti-bump! - There are drums here, - Banging, - And wooden shoes beating the round, grey stones - Of the market-place. - Whee-e-e! - Sabots slapping the worn, old stones, - And a shaking and cracking of dancing bones, - Clumsy and hard they are, - And uneven, - Losing half a beat - Because the stones are slippery. - Bump-e-ty-tong! Whee-e-e! Tong! - The thin Spring leaves - Shake to the banging of shoes. - - Shoes beat, slap, - Shuffle, rap, - And the nasal pipes squeal with their pig’s voices, - Little pig’s voices - Weaving among the dancers, - A fine, white thread - Linking up the dancers. - Bang! Bump! Tong! - Petticoats, - Stockings, - Sabots, - Delirium flapping its thigh-bones; - Red, blue, yellow, - Drunkenness steaming in colours; - Red, yellow, blue, - Colours and flesh weaving together, - In and out, with the dance, - Coarse stuffs and hot flesh weaving together. - Pig’s cries white and tenuous, - White and painful, - White and— - Bump! - Tong! - - - Second Movement - - Pale violin music whiffs across the moon, - A pale smoke of violin music blows over the moon, - Cherry petals fall and flutter, - And the white Pierrot, - Wreathed in the smoke of the violins, - Splashed with cherry petals falling, falling, - Claws a grave for himself in the fresh earth - With his finger-nails. - - - Third Movement - - An organ growls in the heavy roof-groins of a church, - It wheezes and coughs. - The nave is blue with incense, - Writhing, twisting, - Snaking over the heads of the chanting priests. - _Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine_; - The priests whine their bastard Latin - And the censers swing and click. - The priests walk endlessly - Round and round, - Droning their Latin - Off the key. - The organ crashes out in a flaring chord, - And the priests hitch their chant up half a tone. - _Dies illa, dies irae,_ - _Calamitatis et miseriae,_ - _Dies magna et amara valde._ - A wind rattles the leaded windows. - The little pear-shaped candle-flames leap and flutter, - _Dies illa, dies irae_, - The swaying smoke drifts over the altar, - _Calamitatis et miseriae_, - The shuffling priests sprinkle holy water, - _Dies magna et amara valde_. - And there is a stark stillness in the midst of them - Stretched upon a bier. - His ears are stone to the organ, - His eyes are flint to the candles, - His body is ice to the water. - Chant, priests, - Whine, shuffle, genuflect, - He will always be as rigid as he is now - Until he crumbles away in a dust heap. - _Lacrymosa dies illa,_ - _Qua resurget ex favilla_ - _Judicandus homo reus._ - Above the grey pillars, the roof is in darkness. - ----------- - - [1] This Quartet was played from the manuscript by the Flonzaley - Quartet during their season of 1915 and 1916. The poem is based - upon the programme which M. Stravinsky appended to his piece, and - is an attempt to reproduce the sound and movement of the music as - far as is possible in another medium. - - - - - Vibrant Life - - - SHERWOOD ANDERSON - -He was a man of forty-five, vigorous and straight of body. About his -jaws was a slight heaviness, but his eyes were quiet. In his young -manhood he had been involved in a scandal that had made him a marked man -in the community. He had deserted his wife and children and had run away -with a serious, dark-skinned young girl, the daughter of a Methodist -minister. - -After a few years he had come back into the community and had opened a -law office. The social ostracism set up against him and his wife had in -reality turned out to their advantage. He had worked fiercely and the -dark-skinned girl had worked fiercely. At forty-five he had risen to -wealth and to a commanding position before the bar of his state, and his -wife, now a surgeon, had a fast-growing reputation for ability. - -It was night and he sat in a room with the dead body of his younger -brother, who had gone the road he had traveled in his twenties. The -brother, a huge good-natured fellow, had been caught and shot in the -home of a married woman. - -In the room with the lawyer sat a woman. She was a nurse, in charge of -the children of his second wife, a magnificent blonde creature with -white teeth. They sat beside a table, spread with books and magazines. - -The woman who sat with the lawyer in the room with the dead man, was, -like himself, flush with life. He remembered, with a start, that she had -been introduced into the house by the boy who was dead. He began to -couple them in his mind and talked about it. - -“You were in love with him, eh?” he asked presently. - -The woman said nothing. She sat under a lamp with her legs crossed. The -lamplight fell upon her shapely shoulders. - -The lawyer, getting out of his chair, walked up and down the room. He -thought of his wife, the woman he loved, asleep upstairs, and of the -price they had paid for their devotion to each other. - -“It is barbarous, this old custom of sitting up with the dead,” he said, -and, going to another part of the house, returned with a bottle of wine -and two glasses. - -With the wine before them the lawyer and the woman sat looking at each -other. They stared boldly into each other’s eyes, each concerned with -his own thoughts. A clock ticked loudly and the woman moved uneasily. By -an open window the wind stirred a white curtain and tossed it back and -forth above the coffin, black and ominous. He began thinking of the -years of hard, unremittent labor and of the pleasures he had missed. -Before his eyes danced visions of white-clad dinner tables, with men and -bare-shouldered women sitting about. Again he walked up and down the -room. - -Upon the table lay a magazine, devoted to farm life, and upon the cover -was a scene in a barn yard. A groom was leading a magnificent stallion -out at the door of a red barn. - -Pointing his finger at the picture, the lawyer began to talk. A new -quality came into his voice. His hand played nervously up and down the -table. There was a gentle swishing sound of the blown curtain across the -top of the coffin. - -“I saw one once when I was a boy,” he said, pointing with his finger at -the stallion. - -He approached and stood over her. - -“It was a wonderful sight,” he said, looking down at her. “I have never -forgotten it. The great animal was all life, vibrant, magnificent life. -Its feet scarcely touched the ground.” - -“We are like that,” he added, leaning over her. “The men of our family -have that vibrant, conquering life in us.” - -The woman arose from the chair and moved toward the darkened corner -where the coffin stood. He followed slowly. When they had gone thus -across the room she put up her hand and plead with him. - -“No, no!—Think! Remember!” she whispered. - -With a low laugh he sprang at her. She dodged quickly. Both of them had -become silent. Among the chairs and tables they went, swiftly, silently, -the pursuer and the pursued. - -Into a corner of the room she got, where she could no longer elude him. -Near her sat the long coffin, its ends resting on black stands made for -the purpose. They struggled, and then as they stood breathless with hot -startled faces, there was a crash, the sound of broken glass and the -dead body of his brother with its staring eyes rolled, from the fallen -coffin, out upon the floor. - - - - - Don’ts for Critics[2] - - - (_Apropos of recent criticisms of Imagism, vers libre, and modern - poetry generally._) - - ALICE CORBIN HENDERSON - -Don’t confuse vers libre and Imagism. The two are not identical. One -pertains to verse, the other to vision. - -Don’t attempt to “place” Imagism until you know what it is. - -Don’t substitute irritability for judgement. - -Don’t attempt to establish absolutes—positive or negative—by precedents -of a half or a quarter of a century, or a mere decade ago. - -Don’t be a demagogue. - -Don’t try to speak the last word—you can’t. - -Don’t be dishonest with yourself. Analyze your own inhibitions. - -Don’t believe that beauty is conventionality, or that the classic poets -chose only “nice” subjects. - -Don’t forget that the age that produced the cathedrals produced also the -grotesques. - -Don’t be afraid to expand. - -Don’t deny the poet his folly, or expect him to appear always pompously -on stilts. Think of the poets who have fun in their make-up, and you -think of some of the greatest—Shakespeare, Chaucer, Villon,—(by no means -excepting Lewis Carroll, whose Jabberwock is almost “_pure_” poetry and -the poetic prototype of much excellent modern painting.) Don’t relax -your own appreciation of humor to the soft, easy level of the -newspapers. - -Don’t squirm when a poet is a satirist. We need the keen vision. Not all -pessimism is unhealthy, and not all optimism healthy. - -Don’t think that Spoon River is more sordid than Athens, Greece, or -Athens, Georgia, than Sparta or Troy, or—the Lake Shore Drive. - -Don’t think that the poet must always _copy_ something or somebody, and -that something usually of a recent date. Correspondences, to be -valuable, must be genuine and of the spirit, rather than of the -letter.—When Mr. Powys brackets the names of Chaucer and Edgar -Lee Masters, he is illuminating. When Mr. Hervey or Mr. -Willard-Huntington-Wright discover each a different one of Mr. Masters’ -copybooks, and publish their discoveries, the absurdity is manifest. -Picture Mr. Masters sitting with Robinson’s book in one hand, and -somebody’s Small Town in the other, inditing Spoon River with his teeth! - -Don’t expect a poet to repeat himself indefinitely, however much you may -admire his earlier work. You may appreciate his later work in time. - -Don’t condemn the work of a man whose books you have not read. -Unfortunately there are no civil service examinations for critics. - -Don’t think that competition is unhealthy for the poet, or that his -poetry suffers thereby. - -Don’t be confident, as Mr. Arthur J. Eddy said at the “Poetry” dinner, -that no good thing is ever lost. Ask Mr. Eddy, who is a lawyer, to prove -that no good thing is ever lost. - -Don’t expect poets to refrain from writing about one another—even in -praise. If you don’t enjoy the feast, don’t eat it. When the poets tear -one another to pieces, don’t you enjoy it? But if, like most critics of -poetry, you are a poet also, take warning. Be prepared! - -Don’t wait until a poet is dead before you discover him. - -Don’t gnash your teeth and expect the public to take it as a sign of -force and insight. - -Don’t forget that prosody is derived from poetry, not poetry from -prosody. - -Don’t waste your time trying to squeeze exceptions into the rule. -Remember that exceptions in poetry, as in music, are the variations that -give life. - -Don’t measure English poetry by English poetic standards alone. Consider -the sources of English poetry, and don’t begin with Chaucer, or stop -with Tennyson. - -Don’t think that English or American poetry may not assimilate as much -new beauty and richness from foreign sources in the future as it has in -the past. - -Don’t consider rhyme as the be-all and end-all of poetry. Rhyme is -sometimes as beautiful as the reflection of trees in water; it is -sometimes as monotonous as a stitch in time. - -Don’t substitute vituperation for the “critique raisonné”—almost an -unknown quantity in this country. - -Don’t look first at the publisher’s imprint. - -Don’t cling to convictions that you fear to have upset. - -Don’t, because you fail to share the convictions of a fellow critic, -think that he is a bigger fool than you are—unless you can prove it. - -Don’t imagine that printing a poem as prose makes it prose. A musical -masterpiece may be distorted by unrhythmic playing, yet the composer’s -rhythm remains intact in the score. - -Don’t object to conceptions in poetry that you might find striking and -powerful in bronze or plaster. “The Hog Butcher of the World” is one -picturesque attitude of Chicago.... Is the truth unbearable? One may -still love Chicago in spite of its dirty face. - -Don’t try to establish even a distant kinship between poetry and ethics. -The relation is illicit. - -Don’t tell the poet what he must, or must not, write about—he doesn’t -hear you. - -Don’t be tedious. - -Don’t take ten times as much space as the poet to prove that he is a bad -poet. Your sin against the public is more grievous, and your art less, -than his. - -Don’t make up your review from the publisher’s advance notice. The poet -might like to know what you think about his work—not what he told the -publisher to tell you. - -Don’t expect a poet to punch a time-clock, or record only the emotions -of his fellow townspeople. - -Don’t limit a poet to primary emotions, or find decadence in a -refinement that may exceed your own. - -Don’t fancy that brutality is strength, or delicacy weakness. - -Don’t fancy that the poem that gives up its meaning quickest gives most, -or lives longest. - -Don’t make the mistake of believing that vers libre is easier to write -than rhymed metrical verse—or the reverse. - -Don’t think because you say a thing, it is so. Your venture is as -uncertain as the poet’s. Authority, unless bestowed by the Mayor, is the -gift of time; and then not unassailable. - -Don’t reverence only dead poets or be certain that the dead poets would -think just as you do about contemporary poets. - -Don’t discard the past for the future, or the future for the past. We -learn about the earth from the telescope, and about the stars from the -microscope. - -DON’T be as negative as this list, or sit on the fence. It is better to -be on the wrong side than to straddle. - ----------- - - [2] See page 23. - - - - - Poems[3] - - - JEANNE D’ORGE - - - The Cup - - My body is no more clay - But rapture—touched and golden: - The Cup—the Cup - From which my lover drinks - And drinking makes immortal. - - - The Stranger - - (_Eleven years_) - - Oh you spoil everything! - I am glad you are only my teacher— - My mother would know better: - She would not make me treat my friend badly as you do; - She would let me go to the Park and ride on the Merry-go-round with him; - Even if he is a sailor and a stranger he is grown-up and kind: - What harm can he do me? Would he beat me? Would he run away with me in - his sloop? Would he murder me? - You shake your head and say nothing! - You have nothing to say— - And now you have spoiled everything. - You scared me so that when he came as he promised I edged away and hid - my face and almost cried— - He couldn’t understand and of course he was hurt and went away - And I never shall see him again— - It is all spoiled. - And you spoiled it—by saying nothing—nothing— - You never say anything— - You never speak a true word. - - - The Kiss - - (_Fifteen years_) - - I shut my eyes and remember - He kissed me, - My playmate suddenly kissed me - Again and again— - Now I remember all I knew long ago.... - And more. - Kisses take your breath, stab to the heart with sweetest, strangest - pain; - Oh, you can grow faint under their sweetness— - What will the Bridal night be.... - A rush through terror and fire and death - Into swift heaven. - - - The Interpreter - - (_Sixteen years_) - - I wish there were Someone - Who would hear confession: - Not a priest—I do not want to be told of my sins; - Not a mother—I do not want to give sorrow; - Not a friend—she would not know enough; - Not a lover—he would be too partial; - Not God—he is far away; - But Someone that should be friend, lover, mother, priest, God all in one - And a Stranger besides—who would not condemn nor interfere, - Who when everything is said from beginning to end - Would show the reason of it all - And tell you to go ahead - And work it out your own way. - - - The Sealed Package - -I will make it all into a package and put a heavy seal upon it, and -label it “To be destroyed unopened when I am dead.” - -These nine black months. These memories that must be cut away—like a -cancer from the breast but without anaesthetics to deaden the pain. Cut -away altogether lest they threaten life and reputation and the honor of -the family. - -Here is the signature of the man who caused it all, and the letter he -wrote when he knew the terrible truth. - -It includes a perfunctory offer of marriage which I was too proud to -accept. - -It also proves that I was virgin when he seduced me and protests that -had he believed in my virtue he never would have touched me. - -Here is the paper from the registry office recording the birth of a male -child:—mother unmarried—father’s name withheld. - -Here is the receipt for money paid on the adoption of a nameless child, -and the promise in my own handwriting to the woman who adopted -him:—never to make any further claims upon him—a resignation of all the -rights of motherhood. - -The rest is misery in black and white. - -A diary of stoic days and nights when even dreams were wet with tears. -An account of a secret sojourn in a strange city—veiled walks in -twilight streets—skulking in corners—lies—deceit—trickery—truckling to -convention. The copy of a prayer from Thomas-à-Kempis, and on the -opposite page a character sketch of the drunken and facetious landlady -in whose house the child was born. - -Seal up the package. - -If I look at it too long I am likely to go blind with rage at my own -weakness. - -I am likely to go mad and pull down upon me the pillars of society. - -I am likely to go mad and destroy the world— - -Seal up the package—hide it away— - -Forget—forget. - -The incident is closed. - - - Memories - - The Beauty and the Doom of that last day— - No heart was in me but an empty gaping wound - That reddened all the hours. - We were afraid to speak: to look: to touch— - At dusk within the house a dog barked wildly - And at that—I heard a voice—a wizard’s voice - That gave me back my heart. - You spoke—and words were wands that touched and changed - Passion to glory—thistles into palms - You even made the silly barking of a dog - Eternal in mine ears. - So now the mangiest pup that howls about the world - Has voice and power and magic - To rend my heart in twain - Or bid it rise and forth again. - ----------- - - [3] See page 24. - - - - - The Russian Ballet: - - - It Sojourns in a Strange Land - - CHARLES ZWASKA - -We were disappointed—and we had no right to be. Authorities say this -organization brings the music of the nineteenth century to its logical -conclusion. Logical—see? Authorities are always that. So let’s be -logical and philosophical and reason that what belongs to the nineteenth -has no place this far into the twentieth century. Granted. “Well, then, -what _do_ you want?” they question. I should answer _The Faun_ or -something beyond this, finding its manner and inspiration in this -form—interpretive, impressionistic, compressed, emotional. Of all the -Ballets presented by Diaghileff’s Ballet Russe that is, to me, the most -indicative of what the future is to be, so far as ballet and ballet -music is concerned. We’ve had Isadora Duncan, and Jacques Dalcrose has -been at work. Following are some impressions. - - * * * * * - -L’OISEAU DE FEU.—The setting an irritating green: scroll-work gates in -the background. Mere finical, petty child’s scribbling in its -conventionalized balancing. The characters and their work about on the -same level. Bakst costumed them, but the strength of the Hunter’s garb -is not carried into his action—he’s a most unvirile huntsman. And the -finale! a coronation: quite the proper climax for this. Rather -interesting though to have curtain fall on the incoming procession. The -music—Stravinsky’s—fascinating. - - * * * * * - -SCHÉHÉRAZADE.—“Barbaric” they say—yes, it’s a harem scene, you know. But -broad and daring as Bakst’s color is it’s not _very_ far from the -_usual_ harem scene. The lighting was not as good as it should have -been. A serious offense, for the shadows interfered with the action -several times; but they aided the bizarreness of the kaleidoscopic whirl -at the height of the “barbarities.” This is known as “good ensemble -work”—good, yes, but unusual? No longer so. They say there are no -“principals” in this very modern ballet, but it seems that _one_ person -gets the “principal parts”—I refer to Bolm. Right here I’d like to -quarrel with his work—he is “principaled” too often to escape notice. -His Le Negre was lithe, one necessity of the role, but it was nothing -else! His supposedly ecstatic whirls would break annoyingly. A tiny -dressed-up monkey. The end of his leap to Zobeide’s couch was most -ungraceful, awkward. These same broken whirls, leaps, and evident -stumblings—they seemed nothing else—appeared in _Prince Igor_. Seeing -these two ballets on the same bill emphasizes this persistent failing. -He, as the Desired One and the Desiring in _Schéhérazade_, made the -infatuation rather absurd, inhuman. The Grand Eunuch, strange to say, -was the human one—his wavering and final surrender of his duty to the -caresses of the females! As a whole: all the passion, all the “lust,” -superbly expressed human-ness—“barbaric,” perhaps, but human. - - * * * * * - -CARNAVAL.—A deep blue background—a background that _backs_. Two settees, -weak spots they seemed. But nevertheless, against and into this blue -came Pierrot, Schumann music, and Colombine. Pierrot seemed grotesque, -absurd—lovers usually do. Excellent pantomime, then other lovers come -upon the scene. Pierrot steps out of the picture into the dark outer -stage, his white and spots of springtime green lying in a heap in the -center. The lovers maneuver. After their not vain pursuits, momentary, -yet so poignant, Colombine returns to a most itching, subtle, ecstatic -melody—and with her is Arlequin!! The knave! see the curve of his back -and the curve of his thighs and legs! Pierrot must be in on this! and -_Carnaval_ proceeds. Arlequin is now and then out of the picture posing -on the frame, the dark fore-stage, looking on: and in such moments we -have all—everything for our eyes, our ears and our hearts: color, -movement, sound, in themselves emotions but also emotions of hearts that -are seeking. - - * * * * * - -LES SYLPHIDES.—Genee. In what years was she at her height? And how many -generations preceded her as exponents of her particular form of the -Dance? I dare say “in those days” when the “people wanted” such things -they wanted them well done. “People” still want it, but evidently not -done well. The background—Belasco!—well, never mind that. The -_Chopiniana_ that Rabinoff’s Russians did had at least finesse; this one -has terrible ragged edges. Even the solo works, waltzes, and prelude -seemed chosen with little taste—the presenting of the thing at all was -offensive taste. - - * * * * * - -PRINCE IGOR.—The red of the tents not “barbaric,” the paganism of the -costumes a trifle faded, and the leaps of the warriors (Bolm, the “chief -warrior,” you remember) not convincing. The mob, or “ensemble,” if you -must, properly wild and abandoned. The music is the kind that you beat -time to with your feet, you know—primitive I think they call it. Well, -the “very moderns” failed us again—do you see? - - * * * * * - -L’APRÈS MIDI D’UN FAUNE.—Green. Some how I was expecting purple, the -hazy opaque purple of a woodland when the sun enters it from one side; -and still I think that purple would have fitted the Debussy music and -the mood of the faun,—a mood, of course dependent on the music. But it -was green, with rather weak spots of red. This scene framed by a Greek -border of pale and dark blue and white. In front of this frame, looking -into the picture at the languid, piping faun, moved nymphs. They seemed -part of the border—a decoration from an urn or from the walls of some -temple. The faun leaves his knoll and moves into the decorative sphere -of the maidens. Beautiful movement, repressed, conventionalized. A scarf -is left by one of the maidens; they have all left the faun. He has -nothing but this to remember them by. Returning to his mossy rock he -possesses the scarf. No lover more delicately held the body of his love -or with more reverence knelt toward her. The curtain lowers here—the -faun is left to dream. “Now, look here, my friends,” as _the_ Lecturer -would say, stamping across the stage; “away with all this nonsense and -hypocrisy, this clatter about ‘indecent,’ ‘revolting,’ ‘vicious,’ -‘offensive,’ ‘decadent,’ and such blabber! Admit that your life, you -critics, living for art as you pretend to, is made up of just such -things—in fact if you were honest you’d admit your entire life is -wholly, first and last, rooted, aye, _dwelling_ on just this episode, -and yet you cry aloud unto the heavens ‘indecent,’ ‘revolting,’ -‘offensive’ when it is beautifully simple and much more perfectly -presented before you than you’ll ever experience it yourself. And as for -the substitution of the scarf, well, the psychology of the incident is -perfect and the whole thing is heightened by art, my friends, _art_—and -you of course, living as you do amongst the fleshpots and the Market -Place and knowing not of the Groves of Dionysius and the Temples on the -hillsides at Athens—can’t see it. Well. The gods have pity on you and -may you be shown joy in the hereafter—God knows your chastity will keep -you from it here.” - - * * * * * - -LE SPECTRE DE LA ROSE.—Fragmentary concession to those who “loved” _Les -Sylphides_ and, botanically speaking, a “shoot” from that ballet and the -(unpresented here) _Papillons_ of Schumann. Necessary, no doubt, to -remind us of our ballet history and, like historical data, necessary but -uninteresting. Bakst’s bedroom setting _does_ justify the presenting of -this, however. - - * * * * * - -SOLEIL DE NUIT.—M. Leonide Massine—_Youth!_ If you were present at -creation’s turmoil perhaps _les Bergers_ would always have been -delightful and _les Paysannes_ always happy and colorful—and, of course, -we would have had many more serious and glorious Bouffons! The _purity_ -of this ballet—color, music (Rimsky-Korsakov), dancing and pantomime—is -astounding, and beautiful! - - * * * * * - -CLEOPATRE.—_I_ have been to Egypt! All ages have known Cleopatra—her -evil and magnificence; and none will forget that she had slaves. No age -since hers can know of her allurements and the grandeur of her reign of -the souls of two of her slaves as the Russians have shown them to ours! -A temple in Egypt: of pillars once believed eternal, along the then -sacred Nile. Amoun, one of her slaves, loving and loved by another, -Ta-or, craves the caresses of the great Cleopatra! He succeeds: they are -granted midst colorful revels, music made by Assyrians and dancing by -dancers from Greece. The moment is too short ... he pays for it with his -life. The revelers leave, and none in their indifference so cold as the -Queen herself. In the thickness of a red evening, the hall deserted, one -heart still beats. Ta-or grieves over her lost love—alone. I have been -to Egypt ... learned the ways of women—and the world! - - * * * * * - -PETROUCHKA.—Primary things: red, blue, yellow; love, hate, jealousy; -people and artists. All told together in a ballet whose dramatic -unification finds its remarkable inspiration in the music. No doubt -Stravinsky’s most important music for the stage. Pétrouchka, eternal -paradox of beauty encased in ugliness. His jealousy of the Moor, who -also loves the Ballerine, is the ballet, and the music. Foremost the -music! Pétrouchka, in whirling frenzy alone with night and the stars; -the Ballerine haunting him with piercing notes blown from a silver horn; -his discovery of the Moor with his love; and the mannekins entering into -the public square, halting the folk-music of the peasants and squires; -Pétrouchka’s death in the snow and the appearance of his spirit. All -these episodes are _music_. Here one gets the ingenious use of an -orchestra, extraordinary combinations of instruments. Carpenter -attempted this, you remember, in his _Perambulator_. Igor Stravinsky has -accomplished it. He with Leon Bakst, is the most important figure of the -Russian Triumph. They worked together to achieve _Pétrouchka_. - - * * * * * - -The agonizing lack of an audience excuses Diaghileff in laying aside a -completely perfect matinee program in favor of one that would attract -modern children with their innocent parents, but, artistically, there is -no justification of this bowing to the “public” and to “morals” in the -reasoning that moved them to tone down the color of the slaves in -_Schéhérazade_. The contrast was needed: black was in the color plan, -especially for Le Negre. This makes us suspicious that the other uneven -and faulty spots were caused by just such managerial schemings. Seeing -some the second and third times strengthened these suspicions! The -journalistically “notorious faun” on its third performance (a matinee) -moved less lithely and, that there be no “effrontery of good taste,” -posed stupidly, stiffly, while the tense vibrating music panted for -_movement_—for entry into life. And _Cleopatre_! Much as it was -Americanized by being “less sensuous, etc.,” the second performance -descended to mere Grand Opera pageantry, or nearer, to a Grand Opera -Gala Performance vaudeville. The actual center of interest, the Queen’s -couch, was draped by a still, unamourous—yet Decency and the Parents’ -League be praised!—unoffensive lover. - -In a strange land; so strangely treated! That prophets might be -understood in another land their priests distort them that barbarians -may comprehend! - - - - - Editorials - - - _THE ESSENTIAL THING._ - -THE LITTLE REVIEW is a magazine of Art and Revolution. If you ask me -which it believes in most I shall have to say—Art. Because there is no -real revolution unless it is born of the same spirit which produces real -art. - -A man like Bill Haywood doesn’t agree with this. “Why do you ask why -some one doesn’t start the revolution?” he says; “don’t you see that -we’re in the midst of a revolution now?” No, I don’t see it. I see -evolution at work in labor—not revolution. But I see something more than -evolution at work in the arts—music, painting, poetry. - -“... to obtain victory over man and circumstance there is no other way -but that of feeding one’s own exaltation and magnifying one’s own dream -of beauty or of power.” You can argue that D’Annunzio, who said this, is -neither a very great man nor a very great artist. Nevertheless it is -what Beethoven did; and it is what Jeanne d’Arc did.... It is what Bill -Haywood does; but it is not what most labor leaders do, or what most -radicals do. It is not what the laborers themselves do. How horrible it -is to realize that when a man is slaving for his very life he can not be -selective in what he does, that he has no dream left to magnify, and yet -that he must have or perish.... - -This is why I would go to hear John Cowper Powys even if he spoke in -such a benighted place as the Hebrew Institute. Boycotts are important, -but they will not help a revolution as a dream will. Mr. Powys will help -you to find both an exaltation and a dream.... - - - “_DON’TS FOR CRITICS._” - -I went to a meeting of the Friday Club the other day, where Mary Aldis -was to read a very good paper which she called “A Passionate Inquiry -into Imagism.” After she had finished, Harriet Monroe rose to defend the -poetry of H. D.—poetry which Mrs. Aldis had confessed left her unmoved. -Miss Monroe “explained” the miracle of such poetry as H. D’s _Oread_ so -that even those who don’t “get” these things ought to have understood. -And still—what is the use? I am convinced that the secret and the beauty -of the Imagists lies somehow _in the look of the words_, and that if you -have only a feeling for the sounds of words you will never love Imagism. -Witter Bynner, who was also there, made an amusing little speech about -how the Imagists substitute color for sound, sensation for emotion, and -concentrate upon technique instead of upon that for which technique is -intended. And then Alice Corbin Henderson had the last word. “After all -the discussion about Imagism I am surprised to find that no one really -seems to know what it is!... When Mrs. Aldis told me the title of her -paper I said that what I should like would be a dispassionate inquiry. -She said she didn’t think that possible—apparently it isn’t; but as I -was thinking over the many heated criticisms of Imagism and modern -poetry that have appeared lately, I began to make a list of Don’ts for -the critics.” (They are printed on another page). “Of course, if the -critics can’t find out what Imagism is there isn’t any need telling -them; though it might be well to point out again that it isn’t a matter -of technique: it is a matter of vision.” - - - _A TRIBUTE._ - -Jeanne D’Orge, who makes her first appearance in print in the present -issue, has the semblance of a fountain laced with colored flames.... But -you dip a hand in the laced water and—it is chilled and edged. There is -a defiant, battered God with many swords beneath her casual flow of -words—a God that sometimes suddenly cries out, as at the end of her -_Sealed Package_. The poems she has in the present number are part of a -series called _The Torch_, in which with sledge-hammer, burning -accurateness she paints the emotions of a woman, from childhood to -womanhood—a woman who is an utter wistful-lipped pagan. - - M. B. - - - - - Propaganda - - - _BIRTH CONTROL_ - -Margaret Sanger’s case has been dismissed, “because she is not a -disorderly person”—and what has been gained for the issue of birth -control? Nothing, except perhaps a little education through publicity; -and that appears to be very little when you reflect what has just -happened to young Dr. Long, now lying in jail in Chicago because of an -abortion which resulted in the death of his wife. Think of a society -that dares to meddle in people’s lives to the extent of making them face -death rather than face a scandal. Think of a doctor (the cad by the name -of Goldstine, I believe) who _notifies the police_ as the proper agents -to deal with such a tragedy. Think of a public which makes it a crime -for these operations to be performed intelligently and without danger of -blood poisoning. Think of physicians who will not fight for their right -to do this. And think of splendid Dr. Haiselden! - -Margaret Sanger has been “forgiven” by the government, but the statutes -regarding family limitation remain the same. Any unfortunate unknown can -be whisked into jail for propagating birth control, just as usual. Mrs. -Sanger didn’t even demand redress for her husband, who spent a month in -prison. Surely he was entitled to a dismissal on the same grounds—more -entitled to it, even in the eyes of the law: he had never circulated the -pamphlets or in any way agitated for birth control. He is an artist, not -a propagandist. But he served his sentence, and nothing was done or is -being done about it. Mrs. Sanger means to go on with her work. What does -the government mean to do about it? - -Emma Goldman is about to stand trial for the same “offense.” In her case -there will be no “influential” women rushing back and forth to -Washington to interview the President in her behalf. I only wish there -would be. It would insure her freedom for the next year, and it would be -so amusing to figure out on what grounds the Good Presbyterian could -effect the release of the Arch Anarchist. But Emma Goldman will fight -her case alone, and on its merits. If she does not succeed in effecting -a revision of the penal code regarding the whole matter of birth control -she will spend the next year in prison, I understand. You can all help -by sending your protests to Magistrate Simms and also by giving your -support to Dr. Long and Dr. Haiselden or any other person who gets -involved in these laws of the dark ages. - - - “_THE BEAUTIFUL GESTURE_” - -Why do you object to Jean Crones’ reasoning? I reprint his second -letter, transposed into English: - - Why did I do it? While in Europe millions of Christians are - slaughtering each other in the most bloody massacre, and in this - free country thousands of men and women are tramping the streets - without food and shelter, and at the same time the church holds - dinners that cost $15 a cover, beginning with Beluga caviar and - champagne—the money which was beggared from poor working men and - women, the money which the blood of poor workers has run for. - - These conditions are a scandal. This is the failure of - Christianity—an insult to honesty and a challenge to humanity. - Let the church answer my charges toward the world and I shall - stand for the charges made against me. - - - _MOTOR BUSSES ON CHICAGO BOULEVARDS._ - -There is really a definite plan on foot for this miracle. A Motor Bus -Company has been formed, and the necessary certificates from the State -Public Utilities Commission secured. Its plan is to operate from the -south end of Jackson Park to the north end of the city limits. People -who haven’t limousines, who can’t afford taxis, and who can’t possibly -walk the whole distance of the parks, will be able to drive through the -beautiful parts of the city—the _only_ beautiful parts, it is necessary -to add. For ten cents they can have an astounding romance. They can sit -on top of an omnibus, under the sun or the stars, and watch Lake -Michigan stretching out to the other side of the world. That is, they -can do this if the Park Commissioners decide to allow them. - -Some of these commissioners raise the objection that motor busses will -add seriously to the traffic congestion. That is true, but how is the -thing managed in New York? Fifth Avenue is narrower than Michigan, and -it is always more crowded. Other commissioners object to the wear and -tear on the boulevards which have not been constructed for such heavy -traffic. But the Chicago Motor Bus Company “has agreed to pay the -Lincoln Park Commissioners $1,300 a year for each mile of their route -and the South Park Commissioners $1,000 a year per mile.” - -The thing that really halts the plan at present is the attitude of a -couple of private citizens who complain to the South Park Board that -motor busses will destroy the beauty of the boulevards! You know the -type of mind whose thinking runs in such channels? The type that doesn’t -give a hang who pays the taxes which maintain the boulevards; the type -that is fond of talking about democracy and what great things we do for -the foreigner in America. - - - Of the men who rhyme, so large a number are cursed with suburban - comforts. A villa and books never made a poet; they do but tend - to the building up of the respectable virtues; and for the - respectable virtues poetry has but the slightest use. To roam in - the sun and air with vagabonds, to haunt the strange corners of - cities, to know all the useless and improper, and amusing people - who are alone very much worth knowing; to live, as well as to - observe life; or, to be shut up in hospital, drawn out of the - rapid current of life into a sordid and exasperating inaction; to - wait, for a time, in the ante-room of death; it is such things as - these that make for poetry. - - —_Arthur Symons._ - - - - - Poems - - - RICHARD ALDINGTON - - - Bloomsbury Square - - I walk round Bloomsbury Square. - - Bright sky over Bloomsbury Square; - Bright fluttering leaves - Between the sober houses. - - I carry my morning letters, - Some telling of lives spoiled and cramped, - Some telling of lives hopeful and gay, - Some full of yearning for London - And our wider life. - - In Bloomsbury Square - The worms of a little moth - Are spinning their Cocoons, - Weaving them out of bright yellow silk - And bits of plane bark - Into strong, comfortable houses. - But hundreds of them - Have wandered on to the iron fence - And go wearily wandering, - Spending a little silk here - And a little silk there, - And at last dropping dead from weariness.... - - “Our wider life”— - That is our wider life: - To wander like blind worms - Spending our fine useless golden silk - And at last dropping dead from weariness. - - Blue sky over Bloomsbury Square; - Bright fluttering leaves - Between the sober houses. - - - Epigram - - Rain rings break on the pool - And white rain drips from the reeds - Which shake and murmur and bend; - The wind-tossed wistaria falls. - - The red-beaked water fowl - Cower beneath the lily leaves; - And a grey bee, stunned by the storm, - Clings to my sleeve. - - - - - Lollipop Venders - - - LUPO DE BRAILA - -“Misfit clothing”—I saw these words this morning on a small shop sign -and they kept dancing before my eyes. Misfit clothing. In vain all my -attempts to concentrate on the object of my visit to the Art Institute. - -I sat down to search my brain for the cause of this phenomenon, and I -soon recalled another such visit I once made under similar difficulties. - -It was at the San Francisco Exposition. I discovered by chance the -so-called Annex of the Fine Arts Building, a stable-like structure in -comparison to the main building. It housed the Norwegian, Hungarian, and -Spanish exhibits—by the way, almost the only ones worth seeing. At that -time another vision kept me from seeing the exhibit for some moments. It -seemed as if some short bald men danced along green velvet walls, each -one plucking his heart beats with gusto and, after arranging them in a -queer design on a crystal glass plate, offering them to the stars and -children. - -This recollection cleared the air and I realized that surroundings have -a strong effect on me. I have come to enjoy the result of the finest -faculty we possess, our imagination. I have come to admire the result of -a year’s work of our Chicago Artists. - -Three hundred and twenty-one paintings, says my catalog; and in order to -simplify matters I decide to look at some of the most popular names -first—names usually found on the juries. - -Artists, according to Rodin, are different from other mortals because -they love their work. Let us see: Adam Emory Albright, Alfred Juergens, -Lucie Hartrath, John F. Stacey, and Dahlgreen. Each one of them has -between three and seven paintings. With all that canvas they must have -sailed on the most enchanting seas, and surely have brought back a -holiday for our eyes and hearts. - -The first one I encounter is _An October Afternoon_ by Mr. Alfred -Juergens; visions of little coral trees with hanging heads against a -faint green dream sky, embroidered brown leaves in the foreground and -cool blue hills like thoughtless sighs in the background, appear on the -catalog page. But see what Mr. Juergens has done with this subject. I -can scarcely believe my eyes. A mushroom dog in front of some formless -and lifeless trees; amateur composition, thoughtless technique, and -dirty color. And Mr. Juergens has a steady job on the jury. I wonder -what is his reason for painting: he certainly does not love his work. -Something suddenly interferes with my thoughts on this subject: it is -the jingling of coin in a visitor’s pocket. I look around and find -number 174 by the same gentleman, and it reminds me of a cat walking on -the keyboard of a stringless piano. - -They say this is the best exhibition of the Chicago Artists. If it is, -Mr. Juergens has done nothing to make it good. He has six such things on -the walls. - -Mr. Albright, a painter of children playing in the open, has seven -pictures in the exhibit, five of them on one wall. One is called _The -Barn Yard_. The name reminds me of the reproduction of a painting by -Malchevski I saw in a Polish library a few days ago. It was called _Art -in the Back Yard_ and showed a little satyr playing a flute for a little -girl and a few turkeys. There was romance in the fence boards, and -marvelously clean colors; it shouted life and joy. Mr. Albright’s -old-maid’s conception of childhood made me feel sad. His shapeless hens, -his flattened children on the wall, weak composition, dirty colors, and -no sign of life in the whole thing, or feeling of out-of-door air. -Almost disgusted, I look further:—_A Summer Dream_. I look for the dream -and find it in the fact that the biggest of the boys has borrowed his -older brother’s head, and the painting is full of some dirty yellow -color. A horrible dream. I wish Mr. Albright as well as Mr. Juergens -would at least clean their pallets if they can not change their -conception of things. - -Next I visit _Sunshine Alley_, by Lucie Hartrath. It is the alley of -poverty of ideas and bad color. Miss Hartrath evidently wants to paint -what she sees, but she does not happen to see anything startling. She, -too, has six such things on the walls. - -The mediocre work of John F. Stacey and Anna L. Stacey really deserves -no attention. Especially bad is the portrait of John by Anna (there is -little love expressed in it) and _The Beach Road, Belvedere, -California_, by John, takes the prize for being the poorest painting in -the exhibition. John F. has only one painting that looks as if it were -made by a man who loves his work—_The Golden Hills of California_. - -Next comes a man I dislike to place among the lollipop venders—he being -a very nice quiet and honest man; but why does Mr. Dahlgreen paint? - -Now, when I come to Messrs. Griffith and Irvine, I find their anaemic -work quite good in comparison to the work I have seen until now. Of -course, I did not expect paintings with as wide a scope as the work of -the Zubiaure Brothers, Zuologa, Edward Munch, Hodler, Welti, Malchevski, -Franz, Stuck, Fritz Erler, Putz, Elie Reppin, etc., to say nothing of -the latest developments of modern art and ideals—I mean the disciples of -Cezane, Matisse, Van Gogh, Gauguin, etc.—because Chicago is still a -frontier town. All the latest improvements plus the Art Institute cannot -change its real character: a frontier town with frontier town ideals. In -this case, all criticism being comparative, I did not look for the -highest standard. Had I done so, three words might have been my -comprehensive criticism. As it is, all I expected was clear feeling, -clean color, good design, and a certain amount of delicacy in handling. -This has been fulfilled only in a measure by Mr. Bartlett, whose -strength and individuality places him at the head of the landscape -painters exhibiting. He reminds me very much of Trubner, especially his -_Autumn Afternoon_. I also like his daring composition in _Under Chinese -Tower, Munich_. Pauline Palmer’s work is full of broadly-painted -sunshine, though the foliage in some of her trees seems too heavy and -shapeless. - -Next in merit I think comes Marie Lokke, whose yellow sail in _The Old -Pier_ takes the wind out of many a neighbor. Hermann More’s _A Summer -Afternoon_, is a good example of clear feeling and clean color. I also -like Mr. Kraft’s delicate _Silver Mist_ and _An Autumn Afternoon_, and -Mr. Ingerles’s, _The Fascinating Ozarks_. - -There is also a class of painters who can best be described as able and -honest. At the head of these artists stands Mr. Peyraud and Edward B. -Butler. There are also Frank V. Dudley, H. Leon Roecker, Edgar S. -Cameron, J. H. Carlsen, Lawton Parker, Charles Francis Brown, A. H. -Schmidt, William Wendt, Alfred Jansson, Alson Clark, Karl A. Buehr, -Grace Ravlin, Edgar Payne and the following portrait painters: our own -Franz Hals, Mr. Christian Abrahamsen, Oscar Gross, Gordon Stevensen, -Cecil Clark Davis and Arvid Nieholm. - -Mr. Werner’s mannerism is too monotonous. - -Mr. Ufers and Mr. Higgins have taken yellow ochre into the open and made -good use of it. I have taken these two men separately because both have -done good work and I expect much improvement in the near future. Their -work at present looks too much like illustrations. Miss Dorothy Loeb is -the only one who has a real sense of rhythm in line. - -The Chicago Society of Artists, which runs this exhibition every year, -seems to be controlled at present by a number of men who have inherited -a long-discarded weak imitation of a technique once used by Segantini. -They have excluded almost everything that showed some originality and -feeling, but have accepted and hung a few very poor and meaningless -things, so that they may shine by contrast. However, it seems to me they -are at the end of the rope. The public refuses to buy the dope and their -best men have sent in nothing to this show. I refer to Clarkson, -Reynolds, Betts, Oliver Dennet Grover, Henderson, Rittman; and Lawton -Parker has only one little canvas. - - - - - A Vers Libre Prize Contest - - -Through the generosity of a friend, THE LITTLE REVIEW is enabled to -offer an unusual prize for poetry—possibly the first prize extended to -free verse. The giver is “interested in all experiments, and has -followed the poetry published in THE LITTLE REVIEW with keen -appreciation and a growing admiration for the poetic form known as _vers -libre_.” - -The conditions are as follows: - -Contributions must be received by April 15th. - -They must not be longer than twenty-five lines. - -They must be sent anonymously with stamps for return. - -The name and address of the author must be fixed to the manuscript in a -sealed envelope. - -It should be borne in mind that free verse is wanted—verse having beauty -of rhythm, not merely prose separated into lines. - -There will be three judges, the appointing of whom has been left to the -editor of THE LITTLE REVIEW. (Their names will be given in the next -issue, as we are hurrying this announcement to press without having had -time to consult anyone.) - -There will be two prizes of $25 each. They are offered not as a first -and second prize, but for “the two best short poems in free verse form.” - -As there will probably be a large number of poems to read, we suggest -that contributors adhere closely to the conditions of the contest. - - - - - A. Neil Lyons - - - (_John Lane Company, New York_) - -A roomy garret with a wee dirty window in the sloping roof. Some trunks -with old fine clothes and older musty books—books of hymns and sermons, -most of them were. Broken limp chairs. A fire that would not “draw.” -Bits of worn carpets on the floor. A smelly oil lamp on one of the -trunks. Such was the place of my solitary confinement, for rebellion, at -least once a week. I admit to having even deliberately whistled and -danced a highland fling on dreary Sundays in order to provoke my -God-fearing, Sabbath-respecting elders to send me to the garret! How -could they, unsuspecting, unimaginative Olympians, know that it was one -of the places where I had real joy? - -In the smallest trunk there were back numbers of _Punch_. Pencils and -paper were there also. When the steps sounded no more on the stairs, and -I had stopped my stage crying, I would take out my drawing materials and -an issue of _Punch_ and start to copy the easiest drawings I could find. - -Among the artists there was none that I liked better than Phil May. His -sense of the comic and his economy of line appealed to me and my lack of -ability to draw. His Cockney folk gave me more pleasure than any of the -staid humans I knew. He.... - -But I forget myself. I started out to write of Neil Lyons.... All the -words I have spun for the prelude are merely to say that during my -re-reading of the work of Neil Lyons in the past few months I have been -struck again and again by its likeness to the drawings of Phil May: the -same joy, the same delight was there in the reading as there was in the -contemplation of the drawings. - -Now, this likeness not only existed in the handling of the subject, but -also in the choice thereof. The Cockney men, women and children that -Phil May has drawn Neil Lyons has written about. The pictures of the -peasantry that May has left are alike in line and spirit to those Lyons -has drawn verbally in _Cottage Pie_ and _Moby Lane_. - -If you know Phil May’s work think of one of his drawings of a fat -middle-aged woman, and then listen to this drawing of another, by Neil -Lyons: - - “She was forty years old at a venture. She had lots of mouth and - a salmon-coloured face and a pretence of a nose and small watery - eyes. All these amenities were built up on a triple foundation of - chin, which was matched by an exceeding amplitude of bosom and - waist.” - -Don’t you recognize the same swift, sure lines? - -But I must get away from this parallel. Never at his best is the artist -as great as the writer. There is no line or collection of lines in May’s -work to match this in Lyons’: - - “Mrs. Godge, who was lately the mother of twin babies, is now the - mother of memories.” - -That sentence is only a shadow of the quiet poignancy of the tale that -follows it. Oh, the wonder of the man who can see every side of the -common people and set them down with such verve, such relish, such keen -poignancy and hilarious joy! Let me quote from the story of blind Unity -Pike, “the wanton”: - - “I imagine poor old Unity at this period of her life as having - been a little, fresh, dark-haired maiden of Quaker habit. I know - she must have been beautiful because ALL young things are - beautiful. I imagine this poor bound soul in the dark with its - toil and its thoughts—half-formed thoughts, half-formed memories, - half-formed wishes. Nothing real about her or within her save the - darkness. And I can imagine how it was, therefore, that—— - - “Yes! They found Jack Munsey in her cottage. They found him in - the night. And so, in the name of Christ, whose name they give to - all their wickedness—that Christ, who forgave a woman that was - not blind for sins beside which this sin of Unity’s was pure and - white—in the name of this God, I say, they seized her sightless, - wondering soul and threw it, a sacrifice, to those bloody wolves - they call their virtue.” - -I would fain go on quoting, showing you the wit of this man, gentle, and -on occasion barbed and stinging: his humor, kindly, of the soil; his -great jollity and high good spirits. I would indeed like to introduce -you to “Clara,” the hussy, who is fat and motherly and with a heart and -mind unbounded. I would like to take you to “Arthur’s,” the midnight -coffee-stall where you would meet with street-walkers and soldiers, -scavengers and tramps and hear from the lips of a gutter snipe one of -the most perfect and touching love tales ever told. - -Oh, but you must read them all yourself. Will you, if I give you the -names of the various volumes? Here they are, then: _Arthur’s_, _Sixpenny -Pieces_, _Cottage Pie_, _Clara_, _Simple Simon_, _Moby Lane_. - -John Lane, he of the Bodley Head Publishing Company, who gave the world -_The Yellow Book_, the works of Anatole France and Stephen Leacock, is -the publisher. - -I wait expectantly your showers of gratitude! - - —_Allan Ross Macdougall._ - - - - - The Reader Critic - - - _ANARCHY_ - -_Alice Groff, Philadelphia_: - -Anarchy is scientifically a reductio ad absurdum and those who claim to -be anarchists are self-deceivers,—minds that cannot complete a circuit -of reason. There is no place in reason for anarchy, hence there is not -and cannot be an anarchist on a basis of reason. All who call themselves -so are either _archists_ of the most rabid sort or helpless flies in the -sticky syrup of laissez faire. The only professed anarchists that make -any impression upon the world are of three kinds: either they are -spirits of revolt of the most bitterly, materialistically tyrannical -sort; or they are those who suffer with the oppressed and strive -individually to set them free, even to the point of _self_-martyrdom; or -they are sentimentalists who maunder maudlinly on about love and justice -and yet do absolutely nothing to bring about the love of justice or the -justice of love, either in their preaching or their practice. But none -of these are really anarchists, they are only varieties of _archists_ -who wish to impose their _own_ social ideals upon the social order in -place of those that already prevail. - -The whole story of social evolution in a nutshell is as follows: every -phase of the social order at any stage of social evolution is maintained -by a social ego or group sufficiently powerful to dominate the rest of -the surrounding social body,—and this phase can be changed only by -revolution—bloodless or otherwise,—on the part of a new social ego -desiring this change and developing power to establish and maintain it. - -Now the only way in which such a social ego can develop such power is by -obtaining control of _the means of living_,—food, clothing, shelter, and -the natural and financial resources back of these means; and this -control can be obtained only by _archists_,—_dominationists_,—organized -into a social ego or group that is a unit on any special social ideal. -Rebellions come and rebellions go, but the only rebellion that ever -reaches successful revolution is made by a social ego powerful enough to -get control of the necessities of life _by force_,—force material, -intellectual, or psychic. This disposes forever of the professed -repudiation of force by the philosophical anarchists, so-called. As for -the poetic anarchists, who draw moving pictures of the beautiful time to -come, when humanity will voluntarily organize to abolish all man-made -law (which _they_ consider the only social evil, not realizing that the -evil is not in law, per se, but in the _kind_ of law), and who look to -“Mother Nature” for social guidance,—these will wait and look till the -crack of doom, in vain. For “Mother Nature” is an old-wife of incredible -stupidity, socially considered, and must needs be pulled up by the hair -of her head at every whip-stitch, by her ever-evolving offspring, in -order that they may transform her social stupidity into scientific -truth. Social evolution depends entirely upon the discovery of such -scientific truth and its application to the social order, and such -application can be made only step by step through a social ego powerful -enough to compel such application. - -From this it may be seen that by whatever name we may call -ourselves,—monarchists, democrats, anarchists,—we are really _archists_ -striving to impose our ideals as social egos upon the social order, and -succeeding—only when we can get control of the means of living—in -dominating the rest of the social body with them,—until a new social ego -gets the power to cry “The king is dead! Long live the king!” - -It, of course, goes without saying that no social dominance has ever -been entirely wise or beneficent, and that until very recently in social -history there has been no knowledge of sociological scientific truth to -speak of upon which to base social domination. But the hope of the world -lies in the ever-progressing discovery of such truth, and in its -application to the social order by ever-evolving social egos that will -more and more base their social ideals upon such truth, gradually -dominating the whole social order with ideals so based. - -_Anonymous_: - -After having read your “A Deeper Music” in the February issue I wondered -whether you had ever heard Mr. de Pachmann play the piano. There is -nothing in the world like it—nothing more wonderful. I am not speaking -of an ebony Mason and Hamlin alone on a stage, but of any piano at all, -with that madman bending his head over the keys of it. - -I feel sure that had you heard him you would have included him in your -article and would not have put words into Bauer’s mouth. You would have -known that it is possible to play the piano very badly and play it more -beautifully than any one else; both of these in one afternoon. The -design of sound! But he, too, is becoming passé like Paderewski. But -there is little likelihood of a type arising from these two. - -Do you know of any one who plays the piano as Casals plays the ’cello? - -Have you looked at any of Scriabine’s later piano pieces? I wonder if he -expresses any of the moods which you prophesy will be caught by some new -composer. I knew a boy in Petrograd who went to the conservatory every -day with a volume of Scriabine and one of Bach under his arm. We called -him the “Scriabine chap.” He probably has had thirty-second quavers -punched into him by a German machine gun, for I am sure he couldn’t or -didn’t dare be as loyal to both Nicholas and Wilhelm as he was to -Scriabine and Johann S. B. - -_Yes, I have heard Pachmann many times, and he was always wonderful. I -meant, of course, to put him in the article, but at the last minute he -slipped my mind ... perhaps because I was trying to write of a “deeper” -music, and since Pachmann is “master of the small essential thing and -master of absolutely nothing else” he doesn’t quite come into the realm -of the new vision of the piano._ - -_Isn’t there a good deal of similarity between Casals’ playing of the -’cello and Bauer’s playing of the piano?_ - -_Scriabine’s later piano things have something of what I meant, and do -you remember the piano parts of “Prometheus?” Stravinsky, too—you know -how he uses the piano in “Pétrouchka.” But the new vision is beyond -these—something more rich and shattering.... I can’t say it. Let’s just -wait and see.—The Editor._ - -_Alice Groff, Philadelphia_: - -“Spirit can do” absolutely _nothing_, without body. Social spirit can do -absolutely nothing without the means of life for the body. The social -ego that would “start the revolution” must aim first to get control of -the means of living—food, clothing, shelter, and the resources, natural -and economic, back of these. Revolutions succeed only when they get such -control; if they do not get it they are soap bubbles blown by a little -child. - -Why waste time pelting with idle words the social egos that have such -control, instead of going to work to _wrench_ it from them, _even with -war_? - -The social ego that has such control “can do anything.” It can stop war -with a turn of its hand and establish in its stead world-wide service, -kindness, brotherhood, peace, joy and beauty. And there is nothing else -in the universe that can do this. - -It is for lack of a social ego having such control and that unity in -establishing the above-mentioned principles in the social order, alone, -that “men continue to support institutions they no longer believe in, -that women continue to live with men they no longer love, that youth -continues to submit to age it no longer respects,” and it is the only -agency that can help one to be free when one wants to be free or make -one a personality instead of a nonentity. - -All that you say about a “deeper music” is true, though I would say a -more winged music—(I would not dare use to you the word spiritual)—or a -subtler music, or something of that sort; but all that you deprecate in -music, by critical suggestion, is also true and necessary, -scientifically and fundamentally, without which your deeper or higher or -subtler or more winged or more spiritual music would be nothing but soap -bubbles without plenty of soapy water to make them out of. I am one of -those who can appreciate this deeper music—but I know also that it -cannot be created ex-nihilo. - -As to Ben Hecht, his power of expression is wonderful. His writing is -literature par excellence, but it lacks a _soul_. If in his meticulous -analyses of life he could suggest the vision of the swallowing up of the -macrocosm in the macrocosm—could suggest what humanity as a whole could -do to wipe out the evils that feed upon the individual—he might be -god-like. But like all of the rest of you he is a dead fly in the -sickening syrup of _laissez faire_, at the mercy of Mother Nature. Now -it isn’t worth while for you to resent this. Go to work and read what I -have been able to get out of _The Egoist_, showing up anarchy for all -that it is worth. - -_Edgcumb Pinchon, Los Angeles_: - -Glad to see you get into trouble—you have the Flame! May it flash on our -universal dullness and faithlessness as the sun on sword blades—— - -Do you remember Maupassant’s story: An exhausted French regiment—ten -miles to go—the men mutinous, disgruntled; a broken-down carriage by the -road-side—horses and driver gone—a mother and her daughter forlorn in -the carriage, needing assistance to the next town. The snow is deep, -their slippers are thin and they are fashionably—and uselessly—garbed. -The soldiers make a sedan chair of the carriage poles, and fighting -among themselves for the honor of bearing a hand at the poles they -finish the march with spirit and bravado——? - -Do you remember Whitman’s “lithe, fierce girls?” Such are the -flame-tongues of Revolution—the priestesses of social passion. - -If Woman only knew her power to work white magic with banality and stir -up the hero-poet in man! But we who have dragged her by the hair for ten -thousand years must continue to drag her enfeebled body and spirit with -us for penalty—even as we are praying her to touch us to Fire! - -When you say that all we need at this hour is a few great spiritual -leaders—you are tremendously right. And shall not one of those be some -“lithe fierce girl” who knows how to wake the militant social troubadour -in man? - -The enclosed is because you, like Margaret Sanger, belong to the new -revolution—the thoroughbred thing compact of esprit, audacity, faith, -and elan. - - - _Socialism and War_ - - By LOUIS B. BOUDIN - - Author of _Theoretical System of Karl Marx_, - “_Government by Judiciary_”, _etc._ - - Price, $1.10 Postpaid - - NEW REVIEW - PUBLISHING ASS’N - 256 Broadway - New York City - - _A STUDY OF THE GREAT WAR OF IMPERIALISM._ - - Organized Socialism collapsed in the European crisis; but - Socialist thought is providing us with an authentic, realistic - interpretation of the causes and consequences of the Great War. - - The whole world is interested in the attitude and conclusions of - the Socialists. - - Mr. Boudin’s book deals with the prime cause of the - war—Imperialism. He makes us understand the underlying forces of - this world-drama. Mr. Boudin indicates that Imperialism is the - political expression of a change in the economics of Capitalism; - that Imperialism is motivated upon the export of capital, - principally in the form of iron and steel as “means of - production” in undeveloped countries. - - All phases of the war are covered, including the “cultural” and - “racial”. The historian, the economist and the sociologist unite - in a volume of the utmost interest and importance. - - - - - POETRY BOOKSHOP CHAPBOOKS - - READY DECEMBER 1ST. - - IMAGES. By RICHARD ALDINGTON. 8d net (postage 1d). - - CADENCES. By F. S. FLINT. 8d net (postage 1d). - - ANTWERP. By FORD MADOX HUEFFER. Decorated by WYNDHAM LEWIS. 3d - net (postage 1d). - - CHILDREN OF LOVE. By HAROLD MONRO. 6d net (postage 1d). Second - Impression. - - THE POETRY BOOKSHOP - 35 Devonshire St., Theobalds Rd., London, W. C. - - - - - PIANO TRIUMPHANT - - The artistic outgrowth of forty-five years of constant - improvement—a piano conceived to better all that has proven best - in others. - - - GEO. P. BENT GRAND - - Could you but compare it with all others, artistically it must be - your choice. Each day proves this more true. - - Geo. P. Bent Grand, Style “A”—a small Grand, built for the - home—your home. - - - GEO. P. BENT COMPANY - - Manufacturers of Artistic Pianos - Retailers of Victrolas - 214 South Wabash Avenue, Chicago - - - - - Harold Bauer - - and the Mason & Hamlin Tension Resonator - - Having achieved in the Mason & Hamlin, the most beautiful piano - tone the world has ever known, its makers, many years ago, set - before themselves the problem of maintaining for all time, that - which they had created. - - A system of highly tempered steel rods, running from various - points of the grand piano rim to a common center, was evolved and - termed the Mason & Hamlin Tension Resonator. - - This construction, which is to be found in no other piano, - because patented, is the only known method of permanently - preventing deterioration of tone quality through the otherwise - inevitable flattening of the sounding-board. - - Harold Bauer was the first artist to use a Mason & Hamlin Tension - Resonator Piano in public. In the fifteen years which have - followed that epoch making event there have been but few really - great artists who have not enthusiastically endorsed this great - master’s final choice. - - CABLE PIANO COMPANY, - Wabash & Jackson. - - - - - A LITTLE EDITORIAL - - By Jessie Quitman - - Books are not articles of merchandise. They are the projected - materialization of the human spirit. - - The hands of congenial souls alone must touch them. - - The spirits of books shrivel and droop in department stores and - shops. - - Miss Cabaniss of the Venetian Library does not sell or loan - books. - - She shares them with you. - - In her salon in the Venetian Building she may be found most any - hour of the day. - - There also will be found the intellectual artistocracy of - Chicago. After converse, any book may be taken home, in assurance - and without fear, for it has been touched by no unholy hands. - - - BUY YOUR BOOKS HERE - - 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. - - POETRY AND DRAMA - - 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. - - THE MAN WHO MARRIED A DUMB WIFE. By Anatole France. Translated by - Curtis Hidden Page. Illustrated. Founded on the plot of an old - but lost play mentioned by Rabelais. Send 85c. - - THE GARDENER. By Rabindranath Tagore. The famous collection of - lyrics of love and life by the Nobel Prizeman. Send $1.35. - - DOME OF MANY-COLORED GLASS. New Ed. of the Poems of Amy Lowell. - Send $1.35. - - SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY. By Edgar Lee Masters. 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K, 142 West 23rd St., New York - “You Can Get Any Book on Any Subject” - - - - - THE - SEXUAL - QUESTION - - Heretofore sold by subscription, only to physicians. Now offered - to the public. Written in plain terms. Former price $5.50. _Now - sent prepaid for $1.60._ This is the revised and enlarged - Marshall English translation. Send check, money order or stamps. - - - Ignorance Is the Great Curse! - - 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. - - Stupid, pernicious prudery long has blinded us to sexual truth. - Science was slow in entering this vital field. In recent years - commercialists eyeing profits have unloaded many unscientific and - dangerous sex books. Now the world’s great scientific minds are - dealing with this subject upon which human happiness often - depends. No longer is the subject tabooed among intelligent - people. - - We take pleasure in offering to the American public, the work of - one of the world’s greatest authorities upon the question of - sexual life. He is August Forel, M.D., Ph.D., LL.D., of Zurich, - Switzerland. His book will open your eyes to yourself and explain - many mysteries. You will be better for this knowledge. - - Every _professional man and woman_, those dealing with social, - medical, criminal, legal, religious and educational matters will - find this book of immediate value. Nurses, police officials, - heads of public institutions, writers, judges, clergymen and - teachers are urged to get this book at once. - - The subject is treated from every point of view. The chapter on - “love and other irradiations of the sexual appetite” is a - profound exposition of sex emotions—Contraceptive means - discussed—Degeneracy exposed—A guide to all in domestic - relations—A great book by a great man. - - GOTHAM BOOK SOCIETY, DEPT. 564. - _General dealers in books, sent on mail order._ - 142 W. 23d St., New York City. - - In answering this advertisement mention THE LITTLE REVIEW. - - - - - THE EGOIST - - - An Individualist Review - - Subscribe to THE EGOIST and hear what you will get: - - Editorials containing the most notable creative and critical - philosophic matter appearing in England today. - - Some of the newest and best experimental English and American - poetry. - - A page of current French poetry. - - Reviews of only those books which are worth praise. - - News of modern music, of new painting, of French literary and - artistic life. - - A series of translations of Greek and Latin poetry and prose, - done by young modern poets (began September 1st, 1915). - - PUBLISHED MONTHLY - - Price—Fifteen cents a number - Yearly subscription, One Dollar Sixty Cents - - Buy some of the back numbers. They are literature, not - journalism. - - OAKLEY HOUSE, BLOOMSBURY STREET, LONDON, W. C. - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes - - -Advertisements were collected at the end of the text. - -The table of contents on the title page was adjusted in order to reflect -correctly the headings in this issue of THE LITTLE REVIEW. - -The original spelling was mostly preserved. A few obvious typographical -errors were silently corrected. All other changes are shown here -(before/after): - - [p. 10]: - ... white teeth. They sat beside a table, spread with book and - magazines. ... - ... white teeth. They sat beside a table, spread with books and - magazines. ... - - [p. 13]: - ... critics of poetry, you are a poet also, take warning. Be - Prepared! ... - ... critics of poetry, you are a poet also, take warning. 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