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-<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Little Review, March 1916 (Vol. 3, No. 1), by Various</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, March 1916 (Vol. 3, No. 1)</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: February 22, 2022 [eBook #67467]</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, MARCH 1916 (VOL. 3, NO. 1) ***</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">
-MARCH 1916
-</p>
-
- <div class="table">
-<table class="tocn" summary="">
-<tbody>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#CHEAP">Cheap</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>Helen Hoyt</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#ARTANDANARCHISM">Art and Anarchism</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>Margaret C. Anderson</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#GROTESQUES">Stravinsky’s “Grotesques”</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>Amy Lowell</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#VIBRANTLIFE">Vibrant Life</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>Sherwood Anderson</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#DONTSFORCRITICS">Don’ts for Critics</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>Alice Corbin Henderson</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#POEMS">Poems</a>:</td>
- <td class="col2"><em>Jeanne D’Orge</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr class="i">
- <td class="col1"><a href="#THECUP">The Cup</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr class="i">
- <td class="col1"><a href="#THESTRANGER">The Stranger</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr class="i">
- <td class="col1"><a href="#THEKISS">The Kiss</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr class="i">
- <td class="col1"><a href="#THEINTERPRETER">The Interpreter</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr class="i">
- <td class="col1"><a href="#THESEALEDPACKAGE">The Sealed Package</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr class="i">
- <td class="col1"><a href="#MEMORIES">Memories</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#THERUSSIANBALLET">The Russian Ballet</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>Charles Zwaska</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#EDITORIALS">Editorials</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#PROPAGANDA">Propaganda</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#POEMS2">Poems</a>:</td>
- <td class="col2"><em>Richard Aldington</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr class="i">
- <td class="col1"><a href="#BLOOMSBURYSQUARE">Bloomsbury Square</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr class="i">
- <td class="col1"><a href="#EPIGRAM">Epigram</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#LOLLIPOPVENDERS">Lollipop Venders</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>Lupo de Braila</em></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#VERSLIBRE">Vers Libre Prize Contest</a></td>
- <td class="col2">&nbsp;</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="col1"><a href="#ANEILLYONS">A. Neil Lyons</a></td>
- <td class="col2"><em>Allan Ross Macdougall</em></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. III
-</p>
-
-<p class="issue">
-MARCH, 1916
-</p>
-
-<p class="number">
-NO. 1
-</p>
-
- </div>
- </div>
-<p class="cop">
-Copyright, 1916, by Margaret C. Anderson
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<h2 class="article1" id="CHEAP">
-Cheap
-</h2>
-
-<p class="aut">
-HELEN HOYT
-</p>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">After all, what does a man amount to?</p>
- <p class="verse">It only takes some twenty—thirty—years or so</p>
- <p class="verse">To make a man, with everything complete.</p>
- <p class="verse">Longer, it is true, than growing cabbages</p>
- <p class="verse">Or currant bushes, or a cow,—</p>
- <p class="verse">Or a fair-sized hog;</p>
- <p class="verse">But not so very long, and there’s always time.</p>
- <p class="verse">When breeding’s good we get them fast enough....</p>
- <p class="verse">Merely a matter of waiting till they grow....</p>
- <p class="verse">Some food and clothes must be supplied—</p>
- <p class="verse">And shelter—and all that—</p>
- <p class="verse">But it’s surprising (in fact, without statistics,</p>
- <p class="verse">A person would scarcely believe it possible)</p>
- <p class="verse">How very little a man can live upon</p>
- <p class="verse">From birth until he reaches the enlisting age.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">For first he has to be born, of course,</p>
- <p class="verse">And that takes time,—makes us some trouble too—</p>
- <p class="verse">But it’s a simple matter on the whole,</p>
- <p class="verse">And not expensive: not at all expensive:</p>
- <p class="verse">You see, the women are the ones that attend to this</p>
- <p class="verse">And they work cheap.</p>
- <p class="verse">They <em>pour</em> men from their bodies.</p>
- <p class="verse">Always pleased to undertake affairs of this sort,</p>
- <p class="verse">Women are,—O, most delighted. It’s their way.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
-<a id="page-2" class="pagenum" title="2"></a>
- <p class="verse">Willing and lavish: it doesn’t cost them much.</p>
- <p class="verse">They only have to give some flesh and bone</p>
- <p class="verse">And blood; and perhaps, one might say,</p>
- <p class="verse">A scrap of soul, to make the creature go;</p>
- <p class="verse">But these things nature furnishes;</p>
- <p class="verse">They’re free and plenty:</p>
- <p class="verse">And after a man’s once started, he’s not long growing;</p>
- <p class="verse">There’s always a generation on the way:</p>
- <p class="verse">More than we want, sometimes, or there is room for.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">Lord, how they swarm! In the cities like flies.</p>
- <p class="verse">If only horses were so plentiful!</p>
- <p class="verse">If only horses could be foddered so lightly</p>
- <p class="verse">And bedded so many to a stall as men!</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">Certainly, men are less of a bother</p>
- <p class="verse">And also, think what men do for you that a horse can’t.</p>
- <p class="verse">You cannot teach a horse to hold a gun.</p>
- <p class="verse">A horse can’t shoot or burn or pillage or murder well in the least.</p>
- <p class="verse">And too, a man has this convenient feature,</p>
- <p class="verse">That you can make him go without whip or lash.</p>
- <p class="verse">You only have to charm him the right way.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">Other animals you charm by dazzling radiance:</p>
- <p class="verse">With men it’s always colors and bright sounds</p>
- <p class="verse">(Slogans and bands and banners are the best).</p>
- <p class="verse">Why, you can play upon them with the beat of drums</p>
- <p class="verse">Till they are got to an energy and fury fine as a bull’s</p>
- <p class="verse">How they will fight for you then!</p>
- <p class="verse">Tigers and wolves and wild-cats</p>
- <p class="verse">(Considering differences in weight and bulks of meat)</p>
- <p class="verse">Wouldn’t fight fiercer or longer or more willingly.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">You never could train a horse to be so clever.</p>
- <p class="verse">And therefore it’s curious, when you think of it,</p>
- <p class="verse">That horses should come so much more dear than men.</p>
- <p class="verse">To be sure, there isn’t the cheap source of supply</p>
- <p class="verse">Or the same over-stock as in the case of men:</p>
- <p class="verse">A horse is harder to raise and more expense—</p>
- <p class="verse">More trouble; more of a responsibility:</p>
- <p class="verse">But nevertheless, allowing for all this,</p>
- <p class="verse">It still is curious, that difference in value....</p>
- <p class="verse">Now isn’t it?</p>
- <p class="verse">Rather?</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="ARTANDANARCHISM">
-<a id="page-3" class="pagenum" title="3"></a>
-Art and Anarchism
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="aut">
-MARGARET C. ANDERSON
-</p>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">W</span><span class="postfirstchar">hen</span> “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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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 <em>Experience</em>, 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.”
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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:
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-What things do you need in order to live? Food, clothing, shelter.
-What things <em>must</em> you have to get life out of the process of living? Love,
-work, recreation. All right.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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
-<a id="page-4" class="pagenum" title="4"></a>
-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. <em>Then why doesn’t government do it?</em>
-Heaven knows you’ve got all the government you can very well use and
-you pay too much for everything.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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 <em>you</em> are so crazy about the government?
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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: <em>re-creation</em>.
-That means the time and the leisure to invite your soul. You’ve got government:
-have you got either time or leisure?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The government can bring you a letter from some one you love. But
-why must even that be done with graft?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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
-<a id="page-5" class="pagenum" title="5"></a>
-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: <em>Why aren’t they dealt with?</em> 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 <em>treat-ment</em>, not <em>govern-ment</em>?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.”
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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:
-</p>
-
-<p>
-If you think that love and freedom ought to go together the government
-can put you in prison.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-Why are you so crazy about the government?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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 <em>use</em> your temper as well as your nice moods?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<a id="page-6" class="pagenum" title="6"></a>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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!
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-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!
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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!
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-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.
-</p>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="GROTESQUES">
-<a id="page-7" class="pagenum" title="7"></a>
-Stravinsky’s Three Pieces, “Grotesques,”
-for String Quartets<a class="fnote" href="#footnote-1" id="fnote-1">[1]</a>
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="aut">
-AMY LOWELL
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="FIRSTMOVEMENT">
-First Movement
-</h3>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">Thin-voiced, nasal pipes</p>
- <p class="verse">Drawing sound out and out</p>
- <p class="verse">Until it is a screeching thread,</p>
- <p class="verse">Sharp and cutting, sharp and cutting,</p>
- <p class="verse">It hurts.</p>
- <p class="verse">Whee-e-e!</p>
- <p class="verse">Bump! Bump! Tong-ti-bump!</p>
- <p class="verse">There are drums here,</p>
- <p class="verse">Banging,</p>
- <p class="verse">And wooden shoes beating the round, grey stones</p>
- <p class="verse">Of the market-place.</p>
- <p class="verse">Whee-e-e!</p>
- <p class="verse">Sabots slapping the worn, old stones,</p>
- <p class="verse">And a shaking and cracking of dancing bones,</p>
- <p class="verse">Clumsy and hard they are,</p>
- <p class="verse">And uneven,</p>
- <p class="verse">Losing half a beat</p>
- <p class="verse">Because the stones are slippery.</p>
- <p class="verse">Bump-e-ty-tong! Whee-e-e! Tong!</p>
- <p class="verse">The thin Spring leaves</p>
- <p class="verse">Shake to the banging of shoes.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
-<a id="page-8" class="pagenum" title="8"></a>
- <p class="verse">Shoes beat, slap,</p>
- <p class="verse">Shuffle, rap,</p>
- <p class="verse">And the nasal pipes squeal with their pig’s voices,</p>
- <p class="verse">Little pig’s voices</p>
- <p class="verse">Weaving among the dancers,</p>
- <p class="verse">A fine, white thread</p>
- <p class="verse">Linking up the dancers.</p>
- <p class="verse">Bang! Bump! Tong!</p>
- <p class="verse">Petticoats,</p>
- <p class="verse">Stockings,</p>
- <p class="verse">Sabots,</p>
- <p class="verse">Delirium flapping its thigh-bones;</p>
- <p class="verse">Red, blue, yellow,</p>
- <p class="verse">Drunkenness steaming in colours;</p>
- <p class="verse">Red, yellow, blue,</p>
- <p class="verse">Colours and flesh weaving together,</p>
- <p class="verse">In and out, with the dance,</p>
- <p class="verse">Coarse stuffs and hot flesh weaving together.</p>
- <p class="verse">Pig’s cries white and tenuous,</p>
- <p class="verse">White and painful,</p>
- <p class="verse">White and—</p>
- <p class="verse">Bump!</p>
- <p class="verse">Tong!</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="SECONDMOVEMENT">
-Second Movement
-</h3>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">Pale violin music whiffs across the moon,</p>
- <p class="verse">A pale smoke of violin music blows over the moon,</p>
- <p class="verse">Cherry petals fall and flutter,</p>
- <p class="verse">And the white Pierrot,</p>
- <p class="verse">Wreathed in the smoke of the violins,</p>
- <p class="verse">Splashed with cherry petals falling, falling,</p>
- <p class="verse">Claws a grave for himself in the fresh earth</p>
- <p class="verse">With his finger-nails.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="THIRDMOVEMENT">
-Third Movement
-</h3>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">An organ growls in the heavy roof-groins of a church,</p>
- <p class="verse">It wheezes and coughs.</p>
- <p class="verse">The nave is blue with incense,</p>
- <p class="verse">Writhing, twisting,</p>
- <p class="verse">Snaking over the heads of the chanting priests.</p>
-<a id="page-9" class="pagenum" title="9"></a>
- <p class="verse3"><em>Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine</em>;</p>
- <p class="verse">The priests whine their bastard Latin</p>
- <p class="verse">And the censers swing and click.</p>
- <p class="verse">The priests walk endlessly</p>
- <p class="verse">Round and round,</p>
- <p class="verse">Droning their Latin</p>
- <p class="verse">Off the key.</p>
- <p class="verse">The organ crashes out in a flaring chord,</p>
- <p class="verse">And the priests hitch their chant up half a tone.</p>
- <p class="verse5"><em>Dies illa, dies irae,</em></p>
- <p class="verse5"><em>Calamitatis et miseriae,</em></p>
- <p class="verse5"><em>Dies magna et amara valde.</em></p>
- <p class="verse">A wind rattles the leaded windows.</p>
- <p class="verse">The little pear-shaped candle-flames leap and flutter,</p>
- <p class="verse5"><em>Dies illa, dies irae</em>,</p>
- <p class="verse">The swaying smoke drifts over the altar,</p>
- <p class="verse5"><em>Calamitatis et miseriae</em>,</p>
- <p class="verse">The shuffling priests sprinkle holy water,</p>
- <p class="verse5"><em>Dies magna et amara valde</em>.</p>
- <p class="verse">And there is a stark stillness in the midst of them</p>
- <p class="verse">Stretched upon a bier.</p>
- <p class="verse">His ears are stone to the organ,</p>
- <p class="verse">His eyes are flint to the candles,</p>
- <p class="verse">His body is ice to the water.</p>
- <p class="verse">Chant, priests,</p>
- <p class="verse">Whine, shuffle, genuflect,</p>
- <p class="verse">He will always be as rigid as he is now</p>
- <p class="verse">Until he crumbles away in a dust heap.</p>
- <p class="verse5"><em>Lacrymosa dies illa,</em></p>
- <p class="verse5"><em>Qua resurget ex favilla</em></p>
- <p class="verse5"><em>Judicandus homo reus.</em></p>
- <p class="verse">Above the grey pillars, the roof is in darkness.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="footnote" />
-
-<p class="footnote">
-<a class="footnote" href="#fnote-1" id="footnote-1">[1]</a> 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.
-</p>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="VIBRANTLIFE">
-<a id="page-10" class="pagenum" title="10"></a>
-Vibrant Life
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="aut">
-SHERWOOD ANDERSON
-</p>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">H</span><span class="postfirstchar">e</span> 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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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 <a id="corr-3"></a>books and magazines.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-“You were in love with him, eh?” he asked presently.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The woman said nothing. She sat under a lamp with her legs
-crossed. The lamplight fell upon her shapely shoulders.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-“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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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
-<a id="page-11" class="pagenum" title="11"></a>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-“I saw one once when I was a boy,” he said, pointing with his finger
-at the stallion.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-He approached and stood over her.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-“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.”
-</p>
-
-<p>
-“We are like that,” he added, leaning over her. “The men of our
-family have that vibrant, conquering life in us.”
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-“No, no!—Think! Remember!” she whispered.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="DONTSFORCRITICS">
-<a id="page-12" class="pagenum" title="12"></a>
-Don’ts for Critics<a class="fnote" href="#footnote-2" id="fnote-2">[2]</a>
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="subt">
-(<em>Apropos of recent criticisms of Imagism, vers libre, and modern
-poetry generally.</em>)
-</p>
-
-<p class="aut">
-ALICE CORBIN HENDERSON
-</p>
-
-<div class="hang">
-<p>
-Don’t confuse vers libre and Imagism. The two are not identical. One
-pertains to verse, the other to vision.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t attempt to “place” Imagism until you know what it is.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t substitute irritability for judgement.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t be a demagogue.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t try to speak the last word—you can’t.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t be dishonest with yourself. Analyze your own inhibitions.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t believe that beauty is conventionality, or that the classic poets chose
-only “nice” subjects.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t forget that the age that produced the cathedrals produced also the
-grotesques.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t be afraid to expand.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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
-“<em>pure</em>” 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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t squirm when a poet is a satirist. We need the keen vision. Not all
-pessimism is unhealthy, and not all optimism healthy.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t think that Spoon River is more sordid than Athens, Greece, or Athens,
-Georgia, than Sparta or Troy, or—the Lake Shore Drive.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t think that the poet must always <em>copy</em> 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
-<a id="page-13" class="pagenum" title="13"></a>
-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!
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t condemn the work of a man whose books you have not read. Unfortunately
-there are no civil service examinations for critics.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t think that competition is unhealthy for the poet, or that his poetry
-suffers thereby.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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 <a id="corr-4"></a>prepared!
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t wait until a poet is dead before you discover him.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t gnash your teeth and expect the public to take it as a sign of force
-and insight.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t forget that prosody is derived from poetry, not poetry from prosody.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t substitute vituperation for the “critique raisonné”—almost an unknown
-quantity in this country.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t look first at the publisher’s imprint.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t cling to convictions that you fear to have upset.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<a id="page-14" class="pagenum" title="14"></a>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t try to establish even a distant kinship between poetry and ethics.
-The relation is illicit.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t tell the poet what he must, or must not, write about—he doesn’t
-hear you.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t be tedious.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t expect a poet to punch a time-clock, or record only the emotions of
-his fellow townspeople.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t limit a poet to primary emotions, or find decadence in a refinement
-that may exceed your own.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t fancy that brutality is strength, or delicacy weakness.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t fancy that the poem that gives up its meaning quickest gives most,
-or lives longest.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t make the mistake of believing that vers libre is easier to write than
-rhymed metrical verse—or the reverse.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Don’t reverence only dead poets or be certain that the dead poets would
-think just as you do about contemporary poets.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="footnote" />
-
-<p class="footnote">
-<a class="footnote" href="#fnote-2" id="footnote-2">[2]</a> See <a href="#page-23">page 23</a>.
-</p>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="POEMS">
-<a id="page-15" class="pagenum" title="15"></a>
-Poems<a class="fnote" href="#footnote-3" id="fnote-3">[3]</a>
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="aut">
-JEANNE D’ORGE
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="THECUP">
-The Cup
-</h3>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">My body is no more clay</p>
- <p class="verse2">But rapture—touched and golden:</p>
- <p class="verse2">The Cup—the Cup</p>
- <p class="verse">From which my lover drinks</p>
- <p class="verse2">And drinking makes immortal.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="THESTRANGER">
-The Stranger
-</h3>
-
-<p class="subt">
-(<em>Eleven years</em>)
-</p>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">Oh you spoil everything!</p>
- <p class="verse">I am glad you are only my teacher—</p>
- <p class="verse">My mother would know better:</p>
- <p class="verse">She would not make me treat my friend badly as you do;</p>
- <p class="verse">She would let me go to the Park and ride on the Merry-go-round with him;</p>
- <p class="verse">Even if he is a sailor and a stranger he is grown-up and kind:</p>
- <p class="verse">What harm can he do me? Would he beat me? Would he run away with me in his sloop? Would he murder me?</p>
- <p class="verse">You shake your head and say nothing!</p>
- <p class="verse">You have nothing to say—</p>
- <p class="verse">And now you have spoiled everything.</p>
- <p class="verse">You scared me so that when he came as he promised I edged away and hid my face and almost cried—</p>
- <p class="verse">He couldn’t understand and of course he was hurt and went away</p>
- <p class="verse">And I never shall see him again—</p>
- <p class="verse">It is all spoiled.</p>
- <p class="verse">And you spoiled it—by saying nothing—nothing—</p>
- <p class="verse">You never say anything—</p>
- <p class="verse">You never speak a true word.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="THEKISS">
-<a id="page-16" class="pagenum" title="16"></a>
-The Kiss
-</h3>
-
-<p class="subt">
-(<em>Fifteen years</em>)
-</p>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">I shut my eyes and remember</p>
- <p class="verse3">He kissed me,</p>
- <p class="verse">My playmate suddenly kissed me</p>
- <p class="verse3">Again and again—</p>
- <p class="verse">Now I remember all I knew long ago....</p>
- <p class="verse3">And more.</p>
- <p class="verse">Kisses take your breath, stab to the heart with sweetest, strangest pain;</p>
- <p class="verse">Oh, you can grow faint under their sweetness—</p>
- <p class="verse">What will the Bridal night be....</p>
- <p class="verse">A rush through terror and fire and death</p>
- <p class="verse3">Into swift heaven.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="THEINTERPRETER">
-The Interpreter
-</h3>
-
-<p class="subt">
-(<em>Sixteen years</em>)
-</p>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">I wish there were Someone</p>
- <p class="verse">Who would hear confession:</p>
- <p class="verse">Not a priest—I do not want to be told of my sins;</p>
- <p class="verse">Not a mother—I do not want to give sorrow;</p>
- <p class="verse">Not a friend—she would not know enough;</p>
- <p class="verse">Not a lover—he would be too partial;</p>
- <p class="verse">Not God—he is far away;</p>
- <p class="verse">But Someone that should be friend, lover, mother, priest, God all in one</p>
- <p class="verse">And a Stranger besides—who would not condemn nor interfere,</p>
- <p class="verse">Who when everything is said from beginning to end</p>
- <p class="verse">Would show the reason of it all</p>
- <p class="verse">And tell you to go ahead</p>
- <p class="verse">And work it out your own way.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="THESEALEDPACKAGE">
-<a id="page-17" class="pagenum" title="17"></a>
-The Sealed Package
-</h3>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-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.”
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Here is the signature of the man who caused it all, and the letter he
-wrote when he knew the terrible truth.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-It includes a perfunctory offer of marriage which I was too proud to
-accept.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Here is the paper from the registry office recording the birth of a male
-child:—mother unmarried—father’s name withheld.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The rest is misery in black and white.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Seal up the package.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-If I look at it too long I am likely to go blind with rage at my own
-weakness.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-I am likely to go mad and pull down upon me the pillars of society.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-I am likely to go mad and destroy the world—
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Seal up the package—hide it away—
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Forget—forget.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The incident is closed.
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="MEMORIES">
-<a id="page-18" class="pagenum" title="18"></a>
-Memories
-</h3>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">The Beauty and the Doom of that last day—</p>
- <p class="verse">No heart was in me but an empty gaping wound</p>
- <p class="verse">That reddened all the hours.</p>
- <p class="verse">We were afraid to speak: to look: to touch—</p>
- <p class="verse">At dusk within the house a dog barked wildly</p>
- <p class="verse">And at that—I heard a voice—a wizard’s voice</p>
- <p class="verse1">That gave me back my heart.</p>
- <p class="verse">You spoke—and words were wands that touched and changed</p>
- <p class="verse1">Passion to glory—thistles into palms</p>
- <p class="verse1">You even made the silly barking of a dog</p>
- <p class="verse1">Eternal in mine ears.</p>
- <p class="verse">So now the mangiest pup that howls about the world</p>
- <p class="verse1">Has voice and power and magic</p>
- <p class="verse1">To rend my heart in twain</p>
- <p class="verse">Or bid it rise and forth again.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="footnote" />
-
-<p class="footnote">
-<a class="footnote" href="#fnote-3" id="footnote-3">[3]</a> See <a href="#page-24">page 24</a>.
-</p>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="THERUSSIANBALLET">
-The Russian Ballet:
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="subt">
-It Sojourns in a Strange Land
-</p>
-
-<p class="aut">
-CHARLES ZWASKA
-</p>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">W</span><span class="postfirstchar">e</span> 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 <em>do</em>
-you want?” they question. I should answer <em>The Faun</em> 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.
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<span class="smallcaps">L’Oiseau de Feu.</span>—The setting an irritating green: scroll-work gates in
-the background. Mere finical, petty child’s scribbling in its conventionalized
-<a id="page-19" class="pagenum" title="19"></a>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<span class="smallcaps">Schéhérazade.</span>—“Barbaric” they say—yes, it’s a harem scene, you know.
-But broad and daring as Bakst’s color is it’s not <em>very</em> far from the <em>usual</em>
-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 <em>one</em> 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
-<em>Prince Igor</em>. Seeing these two ballets on the same bill emphasizes this
-persistent failing. He, as the Desired One and the Desiring in <em>Schéhérazade</em>,
-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.
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<span class="smallcaps">Carnaval.</span>—A deep blue background—a background that <em>backs</em>. 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 <em>Carnaval</em>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<a id="page-20" class="pagenum" title="20"></a>
-<span class="smallcaps">Les Sylphides.</span>—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
-<em>Chopiniana</em> 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.
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<span class="smallcaps">Prince Igor.</span>—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?
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<span class="smallcaps">L’Après Midi d’un Faune.</span>—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 <em>the</em>
-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,
-<em>dwelling</em> 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, <em>art</em>—and
-you of course, living as you do amongst the fleshpots and the Market
-<a id="page-21" class="pagenum" title="21"></a>
-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.”
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<span class="smallcaps">Le Spectre de la Rose.</span>—Fragmentary concession to those who
-“loved” <em>Les Sylphides</em> and, botanically speaking, a “shoot” from that ballet
-and the (unpresented here) <em>Papillons</em> of Schumann. Necessary, no doubt,
-to remind us of our ballet history and, like historical data, necessary but
-uninteresting. Bakst’s bedroom setting <em>does</em> justify the presenting of this,
-however.
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<span class="smallcaps">Soleil de Nuit.</span>—M. Leonide Massine—<em>Youth!</em> If you were present
-at creation’s turmoil perhaps <em>les Bergers</em> would always have been delightful
-and <em>les Paysannes</em> always happy and colorful—and, of course, we would
-have had many more serious and glorious Bouffons! The <em>purity</em> of this
-ballet—color, music (Rimsky-Korsakov), dancing and pantomime—is
-astounding, and beautiful!
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<span class="smallcaps">Cleopatre.</span>—<em>I</em> 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!
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<span class="smallcaps">Petrouchka.</span>—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
-<a id="page-22" class="pagenum" title="22"></a>
-appearance of his spirit. All these episodes are <em>music</em>. Here one gets
-the ingenious use of an orchestra, extraordinary combinations of instruments.
-Carpenter attempted this, you remember, in his <em>Perambulator</em>. Igor
-Stravinsky has accomplished it. He with Leon Bakst, is the most important
-figure of the Russian Triumph. They worked together to achieve
-<em>Pétrouchka</em>.
-</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p class="noindent">
-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 <em>Schéhérazade</em>. 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 <em>movement</em>—for entry into life. And <em>Cleopatre</em>!
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In a strange land; so strangely treated! That prophets might be understood
-in another land their priests distort them that barbarians may comprehend!
-</p>
-
-<div class="editorials chapter">
-<a id="page-23" class="pagenum" title="23"></a>
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="editorials" id="EDITORIALS">
-Editorials
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="THEESSENTIALTHING">
-<em>THE ESSENTIAL THING.</em>
-</h3>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="smallcaps"><span class="firstchar">T</span><span class="postfirstchar">he</span> Little Review</span> 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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-“... 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....
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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....
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="DONTS2">
-“<em>DON’TS FOR CRITICS.</em>”
-</h3>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">I</span> 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.
-<a id="page-24" class="pagenum" title="24"></a>
-Aldis had confessed left her unmoved. Miss Monroe “explained”
-the miracle of such poetry as H. D’s <em>Oread</em> 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 <em>in the look of the words</em>, 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.”
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="ATRIBUTE">
-<em>A TRIBUTE.</em>
-</h3>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">J</span><span class="postfirstchar">eanne</span> 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 <em>Sealed Package</em>.
-The poems she has in the present number are part of a series
-called <em>The Torch</em>, 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.
-</p>
-
-<p class="sign">
-M. B.
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="editorials chapter">
-<a id="page-25" class="pagenum" title="25"></a>
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="editorials" id="PROPAGANDA">
-Propaganda
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="BIRTHCONTROL">
-<em>BIRTH CONTROL</em>
-</h3>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">M</span><span class="postfirstchar">argaret</span> 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 <em>notifies the police</em> 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!
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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,
-<a id="page-26" class="pagenum" title="26"></a>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="THEBEAUTIFULGESTURE">
-“<em>THE BEAUTIFUL GESTURE</em>”
-</h3>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">W</span><span class="postfirstchar">hy</span> do you object to Jean Crones’ reasoning? I reprint his
-second letter, transposed into English:
-</p>
-
- <div class="excerpt">
-<p class="noindent">
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
- </div>
-<h3 class="section" id="MOTORBUSSESONCHICAGOBOULEVARDS">
-<em>MOTOR BUSSES ON CHICAGO BOULEVARDS.</em>
-</h3>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">T</span><span class="postfirstchar">here</span> 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 <em>only</em> 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
-<a id="page-27" class="pagenum" title="27"></a>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.”
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="filler">
-<p class="noindent">
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p class="sign">
-—<em>Arthur Symons.</em>
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="POEMS2">
-<a id="page-28" class="pagenum" title="28"></a>
-Poems
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="aut">
-RICHARD ALDINGTON
-</p>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="BLOOMSBURYSQUARE">
-Bloomsbury Square
-</h3>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">I walk round Bloomsbury Square.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">Bright sky over Bloomsbury Square;</p>
- <p class="verse">Bright fluttering leaves</p>
- <p class="verse">Between the sober houses.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">I carry my morning letters,</p>
- <p class="verse">Some telling of lives spoiled and cramped,</p>
- <p class="verse">Some telling of lives hopeful and gay,</p>
- <p class="verse">Some full of yearning for London</p>
- <p class="verse">And our wider life.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">In Bloomsbury Square</p>
- <p class="verse">The worms of a little moth</p>
- <p class="verse">Are spinning their Cocoons,</p>
- <p class="verse">Weaving them out of bright yellow silk</p>
- <p class="verse">And bits of plane bark</p>
- <p class="verse">Into strong, comfortable houses.</p>
- <p class="verse">But hundreds of them</p>
- <p class="verse">Have wandered on to the iron fence</p>
- <p class="verse">And go wearily wandering,</p>
- <p class="verse">Spending a little silk here</p>
- <p class="verse">And a little silk there,</p>
- <p class="verse">And at last dropping dead from weariness....</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">“Our wider life”—</p>
- <p class="verse">That is our wider life:</p>
- <p class="verse">To wander like blind worms</p>
- <p class="verse">Spending our fine useless golden silk</p>
- <p class="verse">And at last dropping dead from weariness.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">Blue sky over Bloomsbury Square;</p>
- <p class="verse">Bright fluttering leaves</p>
- <p class="verse">Between the sober houses.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<h3 class="section" id="EPIGRAM">
-<a id="page-29" class="pagenum" title="29"></a>
-Epigram
-</h3>
-
-<div class="poem-container">
- <div class="poem">
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">Rain rings break on the pool</p>
- <p class="verse">And white rain drips from the reeds</p>
- <p class="verse">Which shake and murmur and bend;</p>
- <p class="verse">The wind-tossed wistaria falls.</p>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <p class="verse">The red-beaked water fowl</p>
- <p class="verse">Cower beneath the lily leaves;</p>
- <p class="verse">And a grey bee, stunned by the storm,</p>
- <p class="verse">Clings to my sleeve.</p>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="LOLLIPOPVENDERS">
-Lollipop Venders
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="aut">
-LUPO DE BRAILA
-</p>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar"><span class="prefirstchar">“</span>M</span><span class="postfirstchar">isfit</span> 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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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
-<a id="page-30" class="pagenum" title="30"></a>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The first one I encounter is <em>An October Afternoon</em> 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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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 <em>The Barn
-Yard</em>. 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 <em>Art in
-the Back Yard</em> 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:—<em>A Summer Dream</em>. 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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Next I visit <em>Sunshine Alley</em>, 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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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 <em>The Beach Road, Belvedere, California</em>,
-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—<em>The Golden Hills of California</em>.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<a id="page-31" class="pagenum" title="31"></a>
-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?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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 <em>Autumn Afternoon</em>. I
-also like his daring composition in <em>Under Chinese Tower, Munich</em>. Pauline
-Palmer’s work is full of broadly-painted sunshine, though the foliage
-in some of her trees seems too heavy and shapeless.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Next in merit I think comes Marie Lokke, whose yellow sail in <em>The
-Old Pier</em> takes the wind out of many a neighbor. Hermann More’s <em>A
-Summer Afternoon</em>, is a good example of clear feeling and clean color. I
-also like Mr. Kraft’s delicate <em>Silver Mist</em> and <em>An Autumn Afternoon</em>, and
-Mr. Ingerles’s, <em>The Fascinating Ozarks</em>.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Mr. Werner’s mannerism is too monotonous.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-<a id="page-32" class="pagenum" title="32"></a>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<div class="editorials chapter">
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="editorials" id="VERSLIBRE">
-A Vers Libre Prize Contest
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">T</span><span class="postfirstchar">hrough</span> the generosity of a friend, <span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span>
-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 <span class="smallcaps">The Little
-Review</span> with keen appreciation and a growing admiration for the
-poetic form known as <em>vers libre</em>.”
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The conditions are as follows:
-</p>
-
- <div class="linespace">
-<p>
-Contributions must be received by April 15th.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-They must not be longer than twenty-five lines.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-They must be sent anonymously with stamps for return.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The name and address of the author must be fixed to the
-manuscript in a sealed envelope.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-It should be borne in mind that free verse is wanted—verse
-having beauty of rhythm, not merely prose separated into lines.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-There will be three judges, the appointing of whom has been
-left to the editor of <span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span>. (Their names will be
-given in the next issue, as we are hurrying this announcement to
-press without having had time to consult anyone.)
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.”
-</p>
-
-<p>
-As there will probably be a large number of poems to read,
-we suggest that contributors adhere closely to the conditions of
-the contest.
-</p>
-
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="ANEILLYONS">
-<a id="page-33" class="pagenum" title="33"></a>
-A. Neil Lyons
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="book">
-(<em>John Lane Company, New York</em>)
-</p>
-
-<p class="first">
-<span class="firstchar">A</span> 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?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In the smallest trunk there were back numbers of <em>Punch</em>. 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 <em>Punch</em> and start to copy the easiest drawings I could find.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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....
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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 <em>Cottage Pie</em> and <em>Moby Lane</em>.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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:
-</p>
-
-<div class="excerpt narrow">
-<p class="noindent">
-“She was forty years old
-at a venture. She had lots
-of mouth and a salmon-coloured
-face and a pretence
-<a id="page-34" class="pagenum" title="34"></a>
-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.”
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-Don’t you recognize the same swift, sure lines?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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’:
-</p>
-
-<div class="excerpt narrow">
-<p class="noindent">
-“Mrs. Godge, who was
-lately the mother of twin
-babies, is now the mother
-of memories.”
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-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”:
-</p>
-
-<div class="excerpt narrow">
-<p class="noindent">
-“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 <span class="smallcaps">ALL</span> 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——
-</p>
-
-<p>
-“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
-<a id="page-35" class="pagenum" title="35"></a>
-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.”
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Oh, but you must read them all yourself. Will you, if I give you the
-names of the various volumes? Here they are, then: <em>Arthur’s</em>, <em>Sixpenny
-Pieces</em>, <em>Cottage Pie</em>, <em>Clara</em>, <em>Simple Simon</em>, <em>Moby Lane</em>.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-John Lane, he of the Bodley Head Publishing Company, who gave
-the world <em>The Yellow Book</em>, the works of Anatole France and Stephen
-Leacock, is the publisher.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-I wait expectantly your showers of gratitude!
-</p>
-
-<p class="sign">
-—<em>Allan Ross Macdougall.</em>
-</p>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<h2 class="article" id="THEREADERCRITIC">
-<a id="page-36" class="pagenum" title="36"></a>
-The Reader Critic
-</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="letters">
-<h3 class="section" id="ANARCHY">
-<em>ANARCHY</em>
-</h3>
-
-<p class="from">
-<em>Alice Groff, Philadelphia</em>:
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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 <em>archists</em> 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 <em>self</em>-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 <em>archists</em> who wish to impose their <em>own</em>
-social ideals upon the social order in place of those that already prevail.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Now the only way in which such a social ego can develop such power is by obtaining
-control of <em>the means of living</em>,—food, clothing, shelter, and the natural and financial
-resources back of these means; and this control can be obtained only by <em>archists</em>,—<em>dominationists</em>,—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 <em>by force</em>,—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 <em>they</em> consider the only social evil, not realizing that the evil is not in law,
-per se, but in the <em>kind</em> 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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-From this it may be seen that by whatever name we may call ourselves,—monarchists,
-democrats, anarchists,—we are really <em>archists</em> 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!”
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p class="from">
-<a id="page-37" class="pagenum" title="37"></a>
-<em>Anonymous</em>:
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Do you know of any one who plays the piano as Casals plays the ’cello?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
- <div class="note">
-<p>
-<em>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.</em>
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<em>Isn’t there a good deal of similarity between Casals’ playing of the ’cello and
-Bauer’s playing of the piano?</em>
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<em>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.</em>
-</p>
-
- </div>
-<p class="from">
-<em>Alice Groff, Philadelphia</em>:
-</p>
-
-<p>
-“Spirit can do” absolutely <em>nothing</em>, 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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Why waste time pelting with idle words the social egos that have such control,
-instead of going to work to <em>wrench</em> it from them, <em>even with war</em>?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-As to Ben Hecht, his power of expression is wonderful. His writing is literature
-par excellence, but it lacks a <em>soul</em>. 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
-<a id="page-38" class="pagenum" title="38"></a>
-fly in the sickening syrup of <em>laissez faire</em>, 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 <em>The Egoist</em>, showing up anarchy for all that it is worth.
-</p>
-
-<p class="from">
-<em>Edgcumb Pinchon, Los Angeles</em>:
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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——
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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——?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Do you remember Whitman’s “lithe, fierce girls?” Such are the flame-tongues of
-Revolution—the priestesses of social passion.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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!
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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?
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The enclosed is because you, like Margaret Sanger, belong to the new revolution—the
-thoroughbred thing compact of esprit, audacity, faith, and elan.
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="ads chapter">
- <div class="fl w40">
-<p class="h2 adb">
-<em>Socialism
-and War</em>
-</p>
-
-<p class="ada">
-By <span class="smallcaps">Louis B. Boudin</span>
-</p>
-
-<p class="ads">
-Author of
-<em>Theoretical System of Karl
-Marx</em>, “<em>Government by Judiciary</em>”,
-<em>etc.</em>
-</p>
-
-<p class="adp">
-Price, $1.10 Postpaid
-</p>
-
-<p class="u ade">
-NEW REVIEW<br />
-PUBLISHING ASS’N<br />
-256 Broadway<br />
-New York City
-</p>
-
- </div>
-<p class="c">
-<em>A STUDY OF THE GREAT WAR
-OF IMPERIALISM.</em>
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The whole world is interested in
-the attitude and conclusions of
-the Socialists.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p class="cb vspace">
-&nbsp;
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="ads chapter">
-<p class="h1 adh">
-POETRY BOOKSHOP CHAPBOOKS
-</p>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p class="c">
-READY DECEMBER 1ST.
-</p>
-
- <div class="hang">
-<p>
-<span class="larger"><b>IMAGES.</b> By RICHARD ALDINGTON. 8d net (postage
-1d).</span>
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<span class="larger"><b>CADENCES.</b> By F. S. FLINT. 8d net (postage 1d).</span>
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>ANTWERP.</b> By FORD MADOX HUEFFER. Decorated by WYNDHAM
-LEWIS. 3d net (postage 1d).
-</p>
-
-<p>
-<b>CHILDREN OF LOVE.</b> By HAROLD MONRO. 6d net (postage
-1d). Second Impression.
-</p>
-
- </div>
-<hr />
-
-<p class="ade">
-THE POETRY BOOKSHOP
-35 Devonshire St., Theobalds Rd., London, W. C.
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="ads chapter">
-<a id="page-39" class="pagenum" title="39"></a>
-<div class="centerpic bent fl">
-<img src="images/bent.jpg" alt="" /></div>
-
-<p class="h1 adh">
-<span class="smallcaps">Piano Triumphant</span>
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The artistic outgrowth
-of forty-five years of
-constant improvement—a
-piano conceived to
-better all that has
-proven best in others.
-</p>
-
-<p class="h2 adh">
-GEO. P. BENT GRAND
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Could you but compare it
-with all others, artistically it
-must be your choice. Each
-day proves this more true.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Geo. P. Bent Grand, Style
-“A”—a small Grand, built
-for the home—your home.
-</p>
-
-<p class="h2 adh">
-<span class="smallcaps">Geo. P. Bent Company</span>
-</p>
-
-<p class="u c">
-Manufacturers of Artistic Pianos<br />
-Retailers of Victrolas<br />
-<span class="larger">214 South Wabash Avenue, Chicago</span>
-</p>
-
-<p class="cb vspace">
-&nbsp;
-</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="ads chapter">
-<a id="page-40" class="pagenum" title="40"></a>
- <div class="box">
-<p class="h1 adh">
-Harold Bauer
-</p>
-
-<p class="c">
-and the Mason &amp; Hamlin Tension Resonator
-</p>
-
-<div class="centerpic mason fl">
-<img src="images/mason.jpg" alt="" /></div>
-
-<p>
-Having achieved in the Mason &amp; 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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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 &amp;
-Hamlin Tension Resonator.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Harold Bauer was the first artist to use a Mason &amp;
-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.
-</p>
-
-<p class="ade">
-CABLE PIANO COMPANY,
-Wabash &amp; Jackson.
-</p>
-
-<p class="cb vscpace">
-&nbsp;
-</p>
-
- </div>
- <div class="box">
-<p class="h2 adh">
-A LITTLE EDITORIAL
-</p>
-
-<p class="ada">
-By Jessie Quitman
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Books are not articles of merchandise. They are the projected
-materialization of the human spirit.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The hands of congenial souls alone must touch them.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The spirits of books shrivel and droop in department stores
-and shops.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Miss Cabaniss of the Venetian Library does not sell or loan
-books.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-She shares them with you.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In her salon in the Venetian Building she may be found most
-any hour of the day.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-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.
-</p>
-
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<div class="ads chapter">
-<a id="page-41" class="pagenum" title="41"></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 (Les Aubes).</b> 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 (“Les Tenailles”).</b> 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-42" class="pagenum" title="42"></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.
-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-43" class="pagenum" title="43"></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
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-THE<br />
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