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diff --git a/old/64083-h/64083-h.htm b/old/64083-h/64083-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 1faa70f..0000000 --- a/old/64083-h/64083-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5468 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" -"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> -<head> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> -<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Little Review, July 1914 (Vol. 1, No. 5), Ed. Margaret C. Anderson</title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <meta name="cover" content="images/cover.jpg" /> - <!-- TITLE="The Little Review: 1914/07 (Vol. 1, No. 5)" --> - <!-- AUTHOR="Margaret C. Anderson" --> - <!-- LANGUAGE="en" --> - <!-- PUBLISHER="Margaret C. 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vertical-align:middle; } - -@media handheld { - body { margin-left:0; margin-right:0; } - div.frontmatter { max-width:inherit; } - - div.poem-container div.poem { display:block; margin-left:2em; } - div.editorials { border:0; } - div.excerpt { font-size:1em; margin-left:2em; } - - div.ads { max-width:inherit; border:0; border-top:1px solid black; padding:0; } - div.ads .tablepoetry .col1 { max-width:inherit; } - - a.pagenum { display:none; } - a.pagenum:after { display:none; } - - span.firstchar { clear:left; float:left; } -} - -</style> -</head> - -<body> -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold;'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Little Review, July 1914 (Vol. 1, No. 5), by Margaret C. Anderson</div> -<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> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Little Review, July 1914 (Vol. 1, No. 5)</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Various</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Editor: Margaret C. Anderson</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 22, 2020 [eBook #64083]</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>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.</div> -<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE REVIEW, JULY 1914 (VOL. 1, NO. 5) ***</div> - -<div class="frontmatter chapter"> -<h1 class="title"> -<span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span> -</h1> - -<p class="subt"> -<em>Literature Drama Music Art</em> -</p> - -<p class="ed"> -<span class="line1">MARGARET C. ANDERSON</span><br /> -<span class="line2">EDITOR</span> -</p> - -<p class="issue"> -JULY, 1914 -</p> - - <div class="table"> -<table class="tocn" summary="TOC"> -<tbody> - <tr> - <td class="col1"><a href="#POEMS">Poems</a></td> - <td class="col2"><em>Charles Ashleigh</em></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="col1"><a href="#THE_RENAISSANCE_OF_PARENTHOOD">The Renaissance of Parenthood</a></td> - <td class="col2"><em>The Editor</em></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="col1"><a href="#DES_IMAGISTES">“Des Imagistes”</a></td> - <td class="col2"><em>Charles Ashleigh</em></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="col1"><a href="#OF_RUPERT_BROOKE_AND_OTHER_MATTERS">Of Rupert Brooke and Other Matters</a></td> - <td class="col2"><em>Arthur Davison Ficke</em></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="col1"><a href="#THE_NEW_LOYALTY">The New Loyalty</a></td> - <td class="col2"><em>George Burman Foster</em></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="col1"><a href="#THE_MILLINER_POEM">The Milliner (Poem)</a></td> - <td class="col2"><em>Sade Iverson</em></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="col1"><a href="#NUR_WER_DIE_SEHNSUCHT_KENNT">“Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt”</a></td> - <td class="col2"><em>Margaret C. Anderson</em></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="col1"><a href="#EDITORIALS">Editorials</a></td> - <td class="col2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="col1"><a href="#NEW_YORK_LETTER">New York Letter</a></td> - <td class="col2"><em>George Soule</em></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="col1"><a href="#DOSTOEVSKYS_NOVELS">Dostoevsky’s Novels</a></td> - <td class="col2"><em>Maurice Lazar</em></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="col1"><a href="#BOOK_DISCUSSION">Book Discussion:</a></td> - <td class="col2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr class="i"> - <td class="col1"><a href="#AN_UNREELING_REALIST">An Unreeling Realist</a></td> - <td class="col2"><em>De Witt C. Wing</em></td> - </tr> - <tr class="i"> - <td class="col1"><a href="#THE_REVOLT_OF_THE_ONCE_BORN">The Revolt of the “Once Born”</a></td> - <td class="col2"><em>Eunice Tietjens</em></td> - </tr> - <tr class="i"> - <td class="col1"><a href="#VERLAINE_AND_TOLSTOY">Verlaine and Tolstoy</a></td> - <td class="col2"><em>Alexander S. Kaun</em></td> - </tr> - <tr class="i"> - <td class="col1"><a href="#CONRADS_QUOTE">Conrad’s Quote</a></td> - <td class="col2"><em>Henry B. Sell</em></td> - </tr> - <tr class="i"> - <td class="col1"><a href="#CLARKS_FIELD">“Clark’s Field”</a></td> - <td class="col2"><em>Marguerite Swawite</em></td> - </tr> - <tr class="i"> - <td class="col1"><a href="#THE_SAVAGE_PAINTERS">The “Savage” Painters</a></td> - <td class="col2"><em>A. S. K.</em></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="col1"><a href="#SENTENCE_REVIEWS">Sentence Reviews</a></td> - <td class="col2"> </td> - </tr> -</tbody> -</table> - </div> -<p class="monthly"> -Published Monthly -</p> - - <div class="table"> - <div class="footer"> -<p class="pricel"> -25 cents a copy -</p> - -<p class="pub"> -MARGARET C. ANDERSON, Publisher<br /> -CHICAGO<br /> -Fine Arts Building -</p> - -<p class="pricer"> -$2.50 a year -</p> - - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="frontmatter chapter"> -<p class="tit"> -<a id="page-1" class="pagenum" title="1"></a> -<span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span> -</p> - - <div class="table"> - <div class="issue"> -<p class="vol"> -Vol. I -</p> - -<p class="issue"> -JULY, 1914 -</p> - -<p class="number"> -No. 5 -</p> - - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<h2 class="article1" id="POEMS"> -POEMS -</h2> - -<p class="aut"> -CHARLES ASHLEIGH -</p> - -<h3 class="section" id="BEYOND_GOOD_AND_EVIL"> -BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL -</h3> - -<p class="subt"> -(<em>A Mystery Rime for Little Children of All Ages</em>) -</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">The rain comes down and veils the hills.</p> - <p class="verse">Ah, tender rain for aching fields!</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">The hills are clothed in a mist of rain.</p> - <p class="verse">(My heart is clothed in a mist of pain.)</p> - <p class="verse">Ah, mother rain, that laves the field,</p> - <p class="verse">If I to you my poor soul yield,</p> - <p class="verse">Will you not cleanse it, soothe it, tend it,</p> - <p class="verse">Weep upon it ’til ’tis mended?</p> - <p class="verse">’Twas sweet to sow, ’tis hard to reap.</p> - <p class="verse">Come, mother rain, and lull me to sleep.</p> - <p class="verse">Lull me to sleep and wash me away,</p> - <p class="verse">Out of the realm of Night and Day,</p> - <p class="verse">Back to the bourne from whence I came,</p> - <p class="verse">Seeming alike yet not the same....</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Rain, you are more than rain to me.</p> - <p class="verse">And Lash of Pain may be a Key.</p> - <p class="verse">Ope, then, the door and tread within.</p> - <p class="verse">The double Door of Good and Sin</p> - <p class="verse">Is vanquished. Lo, with bread and wine,</p> - <p class="verse">The table’s spread! The feast is Mine!</p> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<h3 class="section" id="LOVE_IN_THE_ABYSS"> -<a id="page-2" class="pagenum" title="2"></a> -LOVE IN THE ABYSS -</h3> - -<div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Amidst the buzz of bawdy tales</p> - <p class="verse">And the laughter of drinking men,</p> - <p class="verse">I sat and laughed and shouted also.</p> - <p class="verse">Yet was I not content.</p> - <p class="verse">My seared and restless eyes, turning here and there,—</p> - <p class="verse">Like my tired soul,—</p> - <p class="verse">Seeking new joys and finding them not,—</p> - <p class="verse">How oft swept you unseeing.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Until, suddenly,—</p> - <p class="verse">And now I know not how I could have missed it,—</p> - <p class="verse">My eyes saw into yours,</p> - <p class="verse">And plumbed the deep wells of newly born desire.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Ah, dear my heart, what things your eyes did speak!</p> - <p class="verse">Not God’s own music of creation’s dawn,</p> - <p class="verse">Revealed to mystic in a holy trance,</p> - <p class="verse">Could pleasure me more sweetly.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">So dear were your lips—</p> - <p class="verse">Your lips so kind and regal red.</p> - <p class="verse">My memory of your lips I cherish</p> - <p class="verse">As a great possession ...</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Ah, flying joy,</p> - <p class="verse">Caught on the wings of Time ...</p> - <p class="verse">Tender oasis,</p> - <p class="verse">Ingemmed in a wilderness of grey!</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Kisses, kisses,—</p> - <p class="verse">Kisses upon your red lips in the black night ...</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">When, alone in the long, quiet street,</p> - <p class="verse">By the door of the tavern,</p> - <p class="verse">Shielded from sight of those within,</p> - <p class="verse">The soft rain falling on our heads like a mother’s blessing,—</p> - <p class="verse">We bartered the clinging kisses of new desire.</p> -<a id="page-3" class="pagenum" title="3"></a> - <p class="verse">And, as I held you to me,</p> - <p class="verse">The whole universe</p> - <p class="verse">Became informed of God,</p> - <p class="verse">And lay within my arms.</p> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<h3 class="section" id="JEALOUSY"> -JEALOUSY -</h3> - -<div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">You are possessed by another.</p> - <p class="verse">How I hate him!</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Hear the rational people say: “Jealousy is a primitive thing. A thing of the emotions; not of reason.”</p> - <p class="verse">Fools! You do not know scarlet desire, full-flooded!</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Ah, my dearest, Graal of my heart’s longing,</p> - <p class="verse">Your stolen kiss is fresh upon my neck.</p> - <p class="verse">My lips are full of my secret kiss upon your neck.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">You are with another, whom I hate; whom I like well for himself, but hate because he possesses you ...</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Your possessor is old and ugly;</p> - <p class="verse">He can not love you as I can.</p> - <p class="verse">I can pour out for you the scented treasures of my young love.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Dear night of hope, when you gave me the whispered promise to come to me ...</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Stealthy was I and cunning.</p> - <p class="verse">Friendly and attentive was I to your old lover (if lover he may be called, who is almost incapable of love).</p> - <p class="verse">And, all the time, I was scheming for you.</p> - <p class="verse">When the old man was away for an instant—</p> - <p class="verse">Oh, golden moment,—</p> - <p class="verse">I poured my whispered passion into your ears.</p> - <p class="verse">When he looked away, or, for a moment, was distracted, with swift undertones I declared myself to you.</p> - <p class="verse">How dear was your welcoming glance and your quickly toned assent!</p> -<a id="page-4" class="pagenum" title="4"></a> - <p class="verse">You had a face so proud.</p> - <p class="verse">So quiet and poised among the throng.</p> - <p class="verse">Yet, for once, you gave me your eyes and, in so doing, gave me your priceless body and warm, comradely soul.</p> - <p class="verse">Ah, flash of answering love that transformed your face!</p> - <p class="verse">As a jewel of my memory’s treasure-casket may it be preserved.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">When the drinking-place was closed, we walked along the dark street.</p> - <p class="verse">Do you remember?</p> - <p class="verse">We were four, luckily, and the old man was kept busy in conversation, half drunken as he was.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">And we, with our secret between us, walked behind.</p> - <p class="verse">Our hands were tight clasped in the folds of our dress.</p> - <p class="verse">Tight clasped with the clinging hand caress; you and I trying to put into our hands all the longing that was in us.</p> - <p class="verse">All the time we were apprehensive of a sudden turning of the old man or the other ...</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Then, the whispered troth, and the meeting-place appointed.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">And, then, later, boldly, so openly and audaciously it brought no suspicion,</p> - <p class="verse">Under seeming of wine-induced jollity, we kissed.</p> - <p class="verse">And they laughed; it seemed a trivial jest to them.</p> - <p class="verse">But to us it was a sacrament.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">But, best of all, my beloved, was the hurried clasping and kissing when we were alone in the dark.</p> - <p class="verse">Promise of joy to come.</p> - <p class="verse">Foretaste of the coming ecstasy.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">And then we had to part.</p> - <p class="verse">I and my unaware friend.</p> - <p class="verse">You and the old man.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">As I walked home that night,</p> - <p class="verse">How I hated him!</p> -<a id="page-5" class="pagenum" title="5"></a> - <p class="verse">How I looked up at the pale-golden moon high-hung in the purple sky, and sang in my heart your praise and cursed in my heart your possessor ...</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">But we will out-wit him.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Young I am and young are you and the Law of Life bids us mate.</p> - <p class="verse">And a whole world standing between us would be melted and destroyed by the fire of our youth’s desire.</p> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<h3 class="section" id="THE_GLORIOUS_ADVENTURE_OF_GLORIOUS_ME"> -THE GLORIOUS ADVENTURE OF GLORIOUS ME -</h3> - -<div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">I swim with the tide of life towards the new;</p> - <p class="verse2">I reach out hungered arms to flowing change.—</p> - <p class="verse">I smash the awesome totems of my kind;</p> - <p class="verse2">My smarting vision bursts its cramping range.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">A thousand voices yell within my soul;</p> - <p class="verse2">A thousand hymns are chanting in my heart.—</p> - <p class="verse2">I blast the mist of worlds and years apart;</p> - <p class="verse">I sense the blending glory of the whole.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">The sap of flowers and trees, it mounts in me.</p> - <p class="verse2">I feel the child within me cry and turn;</p> - <p class="verse2">The crimson thoughts within me writhe and burn.—</p> - <p class="verse">I stand, with craving arms high-flung, before the rimless sea.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">And every whirling, passionate star sings melodies to Me;</p> - <p class="verse2">And every bud and every leaf has sought my private ear;</p> - <p class="verse">And to the quickening soul of Me has told its mystery,</p> - <p class="verse5">As I sit in state in the heart of the world,</p> - <p class="verse5">As I proudly hug the core of the world,</p> - <p class="verse5">As I make me a boat of the whole, wide world ...</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse5">And then for new worlds steer.</p> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="article" id="THE_RENAISSANCE_OF_PARENTHOOD"> -<a id="page-6" class="pagenum" title="6"></a> -THE RENAISSANCE OF PARENTHOOD -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="aut"> -MARGARET C. ANDERSON -</p> - -<p class="first"> -<span class="firstchar">T</span><span class="postfirstchar">here</span> seems to be a kind of renaissance of motherhood in the air. -Ellen Key has just done a book with that title which has come to -us too late to be reviewed adequately in this issue; Mrs. Gasquoine -Hartley has written <em>The Age of Mother Power</em> which will be brought -out in the fall; and in Shaw’s new volume of plays (<em>Misalliance</em>, -<em>Fanny’s First Play</em> and <em>The Dark Lady of the Sonnets</em>) there is a -preface of over a hundred pages devoted to a discussion of parents and -children which says some of the most refreshing and important things -about that relationship I have ever read. -</p> - -<p> -The home, as such, is rapidly losing its old functions—perhaps it -is more accurate to say that it is changing its standards of functioning, -and that the present distress merely heralds in a wonderful new conception -of family potentiality. But a generalization of this sort can -be disputed by any family egotist, so let’s get down to particulars. It’s -all right for the enlightened of the older generation to preach violently -that the family is a humbug, as Shaw does; that the child should have -all the rights of any other human being, and that there is nothing so -futile or so stupid as to try to “control” your children. It’s not only -all right; it’s glorious! But what I’m more interested in, still being of -the age that must classify as “daughter,” is this:—what are “the children” -themselves doing about it? Have their rebellions been anything -more than complaints; have they made any real stand for liberty; have -they proved themselves worthy of the Shavian championship? -</p> - -<p> -Well—I got hold recently of a human document which answered -these questions quite in the affirmative. It was a rather startling thing -because, while it offered nothing new on the theory side of the matter, -it showed the theory in thoughtful action—which, for all the talk on -the subject, is still rare. It was a letter of some twenty pages written -by a girl to her mother at the time of a domestic climax when all the -bonds of family affection, family idealism and obligation were tending -to smother the human truth of the situation, as the girl put it. She -was in her early twenties; she had a sister two or three years younger, -and both of them had reached at least a sort of economic independence. -She had come to the conclusion, after a good many years of rebellion, -<a id="page-7" class="pagenum" title="7"></a> -that the whole fabric of their family life was wrong; and since it was -impossible to talk the thing out sensibly—because, as in all families -where the children grow up without being given the necessary revaluations, -real talk is no more possible than it is between uncongenial -strangers—she had decided to discuss it in a letter. That medium does -away with the patronage of the parents’ refusal to listen seriously:—that -“Oh, come now, what do you know about these things?” If the -child has anything interesting to say, if he puts any of his rebellion into -his writing, the chances are that the parent will read the letter through; -and the result is that he’ll know more about his child than he has -learned in all the years they’ve been trying to talk with each other and -not succeeding. I’m enthusiastic about this kind of family correspondence; -it’s good training in expression and it clears the air—jolts the -“heads” of the family into realizing that the thinking and planning are -not all on one side. I once did it myself to my father—put ten pages -of closely-written argument on his office desk (so that he’d open it -with the same impersonality given to a business communication), in -which I explained why I wanted to go away from home and learn to -<em>work</em>, and why I thought such a course was an intelligent one. The -letter accomplished what no amount of talking would have done, because -in our talk we rarely got beyond the “Oh, now, you’re just a little -excited, it will look different in the morning” stage. Father said it -was rather a shock to him because he didn’t know I had ever figured -things out to that extent; but we always understood each other better -after that. -</p> - -<p> -However—not to get lost in personalities—this is the letter the -girl showed me and which she allows me to quote from partially: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -If we are to continue living together in any sort of happiness and growth -the entire basis of our present life will have to be changed. We can do it if -we’re brave enough to do what people usually do only in books:—face the -fact squarely that our family life is and has been a failure, and set about to -remedy it. It will mean an entire change of home conditions, and these are -the terms of the new arrangement: -</p> - -<p> -When I said to you the other day that things would have to go <em>my</em> way -now, you were horrified at the conceit of it. To get to facts, there’s no conceit -in it—because my way is simply the practise of not imposing one’s will -upon other people. I made the remark merely as a common sense suggestion, -and made it out of a seriousness that is desperate. I say “desperate” because -I mean that literally: the situation isn’t a question of a mere temporary adjustment—just -some sort of superficial arrangement so that we can get on pleasantly -for a while before the next outbreak comes. The plans Betty and I -have discussed have been made in the interest of our whole future lives:—whether -<a id="page-8" class="pagenum" title="8"></a> -we’re going to submit (either by surrender or compromise or by -just drifting along and not doing anything) to an existence of bickering, nagging, -hours spent in the discussion of non-essentials, hideous lack of harmony—the -whole stupid programme we’ve watched working for years and achieving -nothing but unhappiness, folly, and a terrible “human waste.” You ask us -to continue in your way; but from at least three points of view that way has -been a failure. I ask you to adopt my way—which has not yet failed. That’s -why I say it’s not conceit, but common sense. -</p> - -<p> -My way is simply this: that we three can live together and work in peace -and harmony if this awful bugbear of Authority is dropped out of the scheme. -Each of us must go her own way; we’re all different, and there’s no reason -why one should impose her authority on the lives of the others. You say that -you should because you’re our mother. But that’s the thing I want to discuss. -</p> - -<p> -Motherhood isn’t infallibility. If a woman is a wise woman she’s a wise -mother; if she’s a foolish woman she’s a foolish mother. Because you’re our -mother doesn’t mean that you must always be right; before being a mother -you’re a human being, and any human being is likely to be wrong. To get -down to brutal facts, we think you are <em>not</em> right about the whole thing. We’ve -thought so for years, but now it’s come to the time when our thinking must be -put into action. We’re no longer children; but even as mere infants we -thought these things—without having the right to express them. What I’m -trying to do now is to express them not as a daughter, but quite impersonally -as a human being, as a mere friend, a sister, or anyone who might come to -you stating that she believed with all her soul that you were wrong, and also -stating, just as impersonally, that she wouldn’t think of modeling her line of -conduct after that pattern which appeared to her so wrong. We <em>must</em> face the -facts; if you do that squarely it doesn’t seem so bad, and you stop flinching -about it. You get to the point where you’re not afraid to face them boldly, -and then you begin to <em>construct</em>. And this is the only way to clear up the -kind of rottenness and decay that flourishes in our family life. -</p> - -<p> -It’s in the interest of this achievement that I say the thing a girl isn’t -supposed to say to her mother—namely, that Betty and I will not any longer -subscribe to the things you expect us to. The fact to face just as quickly as -possible is this: it’s the starting point. When you realize that we feel it’s a -question of doing this or laying a foundation for lives that are just <em>half</em> lives—hideous -perverted things which miss all the beauty that you can put into the -short life given you—I think you’ll see how serious we are. We’re at least -two intelligent human beings, if we’re nothing else. And why should you ask -or expect that we’ll submit to a system which to us means stupidity, misery, -pettiness—all those things which we’ve seen working out for years and which, -being at least intelligent, we want to keep away from? -</p> - -<p> -That much settled, we can continue to live together in just one way—as -three sisters or friends; the motherhood, in so far as it means authority or an -attempt to mould us to <em>your</em> way, must be eliminated. A complete new family -idealism can be built on such a basis. You will say that it’s an abnormal basis -for any mother to accept. Of course it is; but the situation is abnormal, and -the orthodox remedies aren’t applicable. -</p> - -<p> -The reason I say the situation is abnormal is this: usually when a mother -objects to her daughters’ behavior it is on some definite basis of opposing the -things they <em>do</em>—like going to too many parties or falling in love with the -wrong man. You have very little fault to find with the things we do. Your -objections are on a basis of what we <em>are</em>—or, rather, of what we <em>are not</em>: that -we are not orthodox, that we are not hypocrites, that we are not the kind of -<a id="page-9" class="pagenum" title="9"></a> -daughters the Victorians approved of. “Hypocrites” will sound paradoxical; -but you have confessed that you would rather have us lie to you than to disagree -with you; that you would rather have us be sentimental about “the way -a girl should treat her mother” than to learn how we ought to treat ourselves. -You call that being “respectful” and think that harmony is possible only under -such conditions. We call it being “insulting,” and think that it’s the one sure -way of destroying any chance of harmony. If we respect you it must be because -we think you worthy of the truth: anything else is degrading to both -sides. -</p> - -<p> -You’ll say you can’t be satisfied to live with us and not give advice and -all the other things that are part of a mother’s duty. You may give all the -advice you want to; the keynote of the new situation will be that we’ll take the -advice if we believe it’s right; if not we’ll ignore it, just as a man ignores his -friend’s advice when he feels it to be wrong. Of course the wise person -doesn’t give much advice; he simply lives his life the best way he knows how. -That’s the only bid he can make for emulation. If we tell you that we don’t -approve of the creed you have made you mustn’t be surprised if we try to -formulate one of our own. There’s no reason for us to ask you to change -just because we’re your daughters. You must do as you believe. But you -must grant us the same privilege. -</p> - -<p> -We disagree about fundamentals. If our beliefs were merely the vague, -unformed ideas of children you might try to change them. But it’s too late -now. So we can live together harmoniously only if we give up the foolish -attempts at “influencing.” -</p> - -<p> -We’re not living three generations ago. We’ve had Shaw since then, -and parents and children aren’t doing the insulting things to each other they -used to do. Among intelligent people some of the old issues can never raise -their heads again. And so, it’s for you to decide:—whether we shall build on -the new foundation together or separately. -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -It might be a play; it’s certainly rather good for reality. And -what happened? The mother refused to “accept the terms”—which is -not surprising, perhaps; and the household broke up into two establishments -with results that will disappoint the conservative who thinks -those girls should have been soundly beaten. The first wrench of it, -the girl said, reminded her of George’s parting with Marion in <em>Tono-Bungay</em>:—that -sense of belonging to each other immensely, that “profound -persuasion of irreparable error” in the midst of what seemed -profoundly right. “Nothing is simple,” Wells wrote in that connection; -“every wrong done has a certain justice in it, and every good -deed has dregs of evil.” But the girl and her mother have learned to be -friends as a result of that break, and the latter will tell you now that -it was the right thing to have done. -</p> - -<p> -The preface to <em>Misalliance</em> has such a wealth of quotable things -in it that the only way to get them appreciated is to quote. Shaw has -said much of this before, but it is all so valuable that it ought to be -shouted from the housetops: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -<a id="page-10" class="pagenum" title="10"></a> -The people against whom children are wholly unprotected are those -who devote themselves to the very mischievous and cruel sort of abortion -which is called bringing up a child in the way it should go. Now nobody -knows the way a child should go. -</p> - -<p> -What is a child? An experiment. A fresh attempt to produce the just -man made perfect: that is, to make humanity divine. And you will vitiate the -experiment if you make the slightest attempt to abort it into some fancy figure -of your own: for example, your notion of a good man or a womanly woman. -If you treat it as a little wild beast to be tamed, or as a pet to be played with, -or even as a means to save you trouble and to make money for you (and -these are our commonest ways), it may fight its way through in spite of you -and save its soul alive; for all its instincts will resist you, and possibly be -strengthened in the resistance; but if you begin with its own holiest aspirations, -and suborn them for your own purposes, then there is hardly any limit -to the mischief you may do. -</p> - -<p> -Francis Place tells us that his father always struck his children when he -found one within his reach.... Francis records the habit with bitterness, -having reason to thank his stars that his father respected the inside of -his head whilst cuffing the outside of it; and this made it easy for Francis to -do yeoman’s service to his country as that rare and admirable thing, a Free-thinker: -the only sort of thinker, I may remark, whose thoughts, and consequently -whose religious convictions, command any respect. -</p> - -<p> -Now Mr. Place, senior, would be described by many as a bad father; -and I do not contend that he was a conspicuously good one. But as compared -with the conventionally good father who deliberately imposes himself -on his son as god; who takes advantage of childish credulity and parent worship -to persuade his son that what he approves of is right and what he disapproves -of is wrong; who imposes a corresponding conduct on the child by a -system of prohibitions and penalties, rewards and eulogies, for which he -claims divine sanction; compared to this sort of abortionist and monster maker, -I say, Place appears almost as a Providence. -</p> - -<p> -A gentleman once wrote to me and said, with an obvious conviction -that he was being most reasonable and high minded, that the only thing he -beat his children for was failure in perfect obedience and perfect truthfulness. -On these attributes, he said, he must insist. As one of them is not a virtue at -all, and the other is the attribute of a god, one can imagine what the lives of -this gentleman’s children would have been if it had been possible for him to -live down to his monstrous and foolish pretensions. -</p> - -<p> -The cruelty (of beating a child) must be whitewashed by a moral excuse, -and a pretense of reluctance. It must be for the child’s good. The assailant -must say “This hurts me more than it hurts you.” There must be hypocrisy -as well as cruelty. -</p> - -<p> -The most excusable parents are those who try to correct their own faults in -their offspring. The parent who says to his child: “I am one of the successes -of the Almighty: therefore imitate me in every particular or I will have the -skin off your back” (a quite common attitude) is a much more absurd figure -than the man who, with a pipe in his mouth, thrashes his boy for smoking. -</p> - -<p> -If you must hold yourself up to your children as an object lesson (which -is not at all necessary), hold yourself up as a warning and not as an example. -But you had much better let the child’s character alone. If you once allow -yourself to regard a child as so much material for you to manufacture into any -shape that happens to suit your fancy you are defeating the experiment of the -<a id="page-11" class="pagenum" title="11"></a> -Life Force. You are assuming that the child does not know its own business, -and that you do. In this you are sure to be wrong. The child feels the -drive of the Life Force (often called the Will of God); and you cannot feel it -for him. -</p> - -<p> -Most children can be, and many are, hopelessly warped and wasted by -parents who are ignorant and silly enough to suppose that they know what a -human being ought to be, and who stick at nothing in their determination to -force their children into their moulds. -</p> - -<p> -Experienced parents, when children’s rights are preached to them, very -naturally ask whether children are to be allowed to do what they like. The best -reply is to ask whether adults are to be allowed to do what they like. The two -cases are the same. The adult who is nasty is not allowed to do what he likes: -neither can the child who likes to be nasty. There is no difference in principle -between the rights of a child and those of an adult: the difference in their -cases is one of circumstance. -</p> - -<p> -Most working folk today either send their children to day schools or -turn them out of doors. This solves the problem for the parents. It does not -solve it for the children, any more than the tethering of a goat in the field or -the chasing of an unlicensed dog in the streets solves it for the goat or the dog; -but it shows that in no class are people willing to endure the society of their -children, and consequently it is an error to believe that the family provides -children with edifying adult society, or that the family is a social unit. -</p> - -<p> -The family is in that, as in so many other respects, a humbug. Old people -and young people cannot walk at the same pace without distress and final -loss of health to one of the parties.... And since our system is nevertheless -to pack them all into the same house and pretend that they are happy, -and that this particular sort of happiness is the foundation of virtue, it is -found that in discussing family life we never speak of actual adults or actual -children, or of realities of any sort, but always of ideals such as The Home, a -Mother’s Influence, a Father’s Care, Filial Piety, Duty, Affection, Family Life, -etc., etc., which are no doubt very comforting phrases, but which beg the question -of what a home and a mother’s influence and a father’s care and so forth -really come to.... Women who cannot bear to be separated from their -pet dogs send their children to boarding school cheerfully. They may say -and even believe that in allowing their children to leave home they are sacrificing -themselves for their children’s good.... But to allege that children -are better continually away from home is to give up the whole popular -sentimental theory of the family.... -</p> - -<p> -If you compel an adult and a child to live in one another’s company -either the adult or the child will be miserable. There is nothing whatever unnatural -or wrong or shocking in this fact, and there is no harm in it if only it -be sensibly faced and provided for. The mischief that it does at present is -produced by our efforts to ignore it, or to smother it under a heap of sentimental -and false pretenses. -</p> - -<p> -The child’s rights, being clearly those of any other human being, are -summed up in the right to live.... And the rights of society over it -clearly extend to requiring it to qualify itself to live in society without wasting -other people’s time.... -</p> - -<p> -We must reconcile education with liberty. We must find out some means -of making men workers and, if need be, warriors, without making them -slaves. -</p> - -<p> -In dealing with children what is needed is not logic but sense. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-12" class="pagenum" title="12"></a> -A child should begin to assert itself early, and shift for itself more and -more not only in washing and dressing itself, but in opinions and conduct.... And -what is a tyrant? Quite simply a person who says to another -person, young or old, “You shall do as I tell you.” -</p> - -<p> -Children are extremely cruel without intending it; and in ninety-nine cases -out of a hundred the reason is that they do not conceive their elders as having -any human feeling. Serve the elders right, perhaps, for posing as superhuman! -The penalty of the imposter is not that he is found out (he very seldom is) -but that he is taken for what he pretends to be and treated as such. -</p> - -<p> -The family ideal is a humbug and a nuisance: one might as reasonably -talk of the barrack ideal, or the forecastle ideal, or any other substitution of -the machinery of social for the end of it, which must always be the fullest -and most capable life: in short, the most Godly life. -</p> - -<p> -Even apart from its insufferable pretensions, the family needs hearty -discrediting; for there is hardly any vulnerable part of it that could not be -amputated with advantage. -</p> - -<p> -Do not for a moment suppose that uncultivated people are merely indifferent -to high and noble qualities. They hate them malignantly.... -</p> - -<p> -Whether the risks to which liberty exposes us are moral or physical our -right to liberty involves the right to run them. A man who is not free to risk -his neck as an aviator or his soul as a heretic is not free at all; and the right to -liberty begins, not at the age of 21 years, but of 21 seconds. -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -You may have as much fun at Shaw’s expense as you want on -the grounds that he has never had to train a child and therefore doesn’t -know the difficulties. But if you want to laugh last don’t read this -preface or the play that follows it, because he will make a laughing-stock -or a convert of you as surely as he will prove that he is far cleverer -than you can ever hope to be. -</p> - -<p> -Shaw and Ellen Key preach practically the same doctrine about -the home; both are temperamentally incapable of Charlotte Perkins -Gilman’s programme—education outside the home: Shaw because the -school is as big a humbug as the family, and Miss Key because “even -if institutions can thus rough-plane the material that is to become a -member of society, nevertheless they cannot—if they take in the major -part of the child’s education—accomplish that which is needed first -of all if we are to lift ourselves to a higher spiritual plane in an economically -just society: they cannot deepen the emotional life.” Her insistence -is strongly upon the education of the feelings as the most -important factor in the soul-life. In her vision of the renaissance of -motherhood she begins with Nietzsche’s dictum that “a time will come -when men will think of nothing except education.” Not that any one -can be educated <em>to</em> motherliness; but that our sentimentalization of -motherhood as the ever holy, ever infallible power, must be abandoned, -<a id="page-13" class="pagenum" title="13"></a> -and a quality of intelligent mother-power cultivated by definite -courses of training which she lays out in detail. -</p> - -<p> -In view of the number of homes I know of that come legitimately -under the Shaw denunciation I feel sometimes that any socialization -of home life is more hopeful than an attempt to remodel the hopeless -conditions inside the home. Regard the parents you know—the -great mass of them outside the exceptions that encourage you to believe -spasmodically in the beauty and noble need of parenthood. If -they are not cruel or stupid or ignorant or smug or righteous or tyrannical -or dishonest or unimaginative or weak or quiet ineffectual, they -are something else just as bad. It has come to the point where a good -parent is as hard to find as an honest man. -</p> - -<p> -Very seriously, however, there is hope in the situation—there is -renaissance in the air. And it has its foundation in the sensible and -healthy (though so far only tacit) admission that it doesn’t matter so -much what your child becomes as that he shall <em>become something</em>! You -can’t do much with him, anyhow, and you may as well face it. You -can give him, during his first few years, the kind of foundation you -think will help him; and for the rest of the time you can do only one -thing that he will really need from you: you can develop your own -personality as richly as you want him to develop his. You can refuse -to worry about him—since that does neither of you any good—and -thereby save stores of energy that he may draw upon for <em>your mutual -benefit</em>. It becomes a sort of game for two, instead of the uninteresting -kind in which one player is given all the advantages. Compared with -it the old-fashioned game in which the mother sacrificed everything, -suffered everything, wore herself out trying to help her child win, looks -not only very unfair and very unnecessary, but very <em>wasteful</em>. And -have you ever noticed how the man who sentimentalizes about the -wonderful mothers we used to have—his own in particular—is the one -whose life is lived at the opposite pole of the mother’s wise direction? -</p> - -<p> -If you disagree with all this, there is still one other method by -which you may produce a child who will be a credit to himself and to -society. You may be so utterly stupid and wrong-headed that he will -rebel to the point of becoming something different. If you prefer -this course no one need worry much about your child, because he’ll -probably found a system of child education that will cause him to be -famous; and if you have a daughter, she’ll probably become a Montessori. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-14" class="pagenum" title="14"></a> -The new home is a recognition that the child is not the only factor -in society that needs educating. It assumes that no one’s education -is finished just because he’s been made a parent. It means that -we can all go on being educated together. It means the elimination of -all kinds of domestic follies—for one, the ghastly embarrassment of -growing up to discover that you’re different from the rest of your family, -and for that reason something of a criminal. It means the kind of -understanding that develops a child’s feeling instead of suppressing -it, so that he won’t be ashamed, for instance, of having such glorious -things as dreams and visions. It means artistic education: and Shaw -says that we all grow up stupid or mad to just the extent to which we -have not been artistically educated. -</p> - -<div class="filler"> -<h2 class="filler" id="THE_SWAN"> -THE SWAN -</h2> - - <div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Under the lily shadow</p> - <p class="verse">and the gold</p> - <p class="verse">and the blue and mauve</p> - <p class="verse">that the whin and the lilac</p> - <p class="verse">pour down on the water,</p> - <p class="verse">the fishes quiver.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Over the green cold leaves</p> - <p class="verse">and the rippled silver</p> - <p class="verse">and the tarnished copper</p> - <p class="verse">of its neck and beak,</p> - <p class="verse">toward the deep black water</p> - <p class="verse">beneath the arches,</p> - <p class="verse">the swan floats slowly.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Into the dark of the arch the swan floats</p> - <p class="verse">and into the black depth of my sorrow</p> - <p class="verse">it bears a white rose of flame.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza attr"> - <p class="verse"><em>F. S. Flint.</em></p> - </div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="article" id="DES_IMAGISTES"> -<a id="page-15" class="pagenum" title="15"></a> -“DES IMAGISTES” -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="aut"> -CHARLES ASHLEIGH -</p> - -<p class="first"> -<span class="firstchar">A</span> new and well born recruit has been added to the ranks of the -Insurgents. It is true he appeared before we did, but we welcome -him before he welcomes us, and thus are things evened. -<span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span>, <em>The Masses</em>, <em>Poetry</em>, <em>The International</em>—all bearers -of the sacred fire,—and now cometh <em>The Glebe</em>, heralding his approach -with the chanting of many-colored strains. And, among the -good things which <em>The Glebe</em> has put forth, is a book of portent: <em>Des -Imagistes</em>. -</p> - -<p> -The Imagistes form one of the latest schools, and it is meet that, -before we read their work, we get some idea of their doctrine. Therefore -I transcribe here some statements of representative Imagiste -poets, which I have culled from <em>Poetry</em>, <em>The Egotist</em>, and other sources. -Richard Aldington gives the following rules: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -I. Direct treatment of subject. We convey an emotion by presenting -the object and circumstance of the emotion without comment. For example, -we do not say, “O how I admire that exquisite, that beautiful, that—25 more -adjectives—woman.” But we present that woman, we make an “Image” -of her, we make the scene convey the emotion.... -</p> - -<p> -II. As few adjectives as possible. -</p> - -<p> -III. A hardness as of cut stone. No slop, no sentimentality. When -people say the Imagiste poems are “too hard” ... we know we have -done something good. -</p> - -<p> -IV. Individuality of rhythm. We make new fashions instead of cutting -our clothes on the old models. -</p> - -<p> -V. The exact word. We make quite a heavy stress on that. It is -most important. All great poetry is exact. All the dreariness of nineteenth -century poetry comes from their not quite knowing what they wanted to say -and filling up the gaps with portentous adjectives and idiotic similes. -</p> - -<p> -Here is a definition by Ezra Pound which helps us: “An Image is that -which presents an intellectual and emotional complex in an instant of time.” -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -The book, <em>Des Imagistes</em>, is an anthology, presumably of Imagist -(let us, once for all, Anglicize the French word and have done with -it) poetry. Yet, one of the foremost imagists, Richard Aldington, in -a critique of this book,—comparatively modest, owing to the fact -that his own poems formed a sumptuous fraction of the volume,—says -that five of those whose poems are there included are not true -<a id="page-16" class="pagenum" title="16"></a> -Imagists. These are Cournos, Hueffer, Upward, Joyce, and Cannell. -Mr. Aldington says he doesn’t mean that these poems are not beautiful—on -the contrary, he admires them immensely—but they are -not, “strictly speaking,” Imagist poems. -</p> - -<p> -I agree that the poems of these five men are beautiful, especially -the <em>I hear an army</em> of James Joyce and the <em>Nocturnes</em> of Skipwith -Cannell; and I also maintain that, all unconsciously, the publishers -of <em>The Glebe</em> have dealt a deadly blow to sectarian Imagism by -including these non-Imagist poems in their anthology. Because, unless -a school can prove that it alone has that unnameable wonder which -excites us to deepest emotional turmoil, and which we call poetry, -it has but little right to isolate itself or to separate its adepts from -the bulk of poets. This may sound sententious, but is, nevertheless, -true. Speak you in whatever mode or meter you will, if you arouse -me to exultation, or to horror, or to the high pitch of any feeling,—if -in me there is that responsive vibration that only true art can produce—then -are you a poet. -</p> - -<p> -Whitman does it to me. Poe does it to me. Baudelaire and -Henley do it. To all of these there is in me a response. I’m awfully -sorry, but that’s how it is. I think them all poets. -</p> - -<p> -The Imagists believe in the direct presentation of emotion, preferably -in terms of objectivity. They abhor an excess of adjectives, -and, after a satiety of the pompous Victorian stuff, I am much inclined -to sympathize with that tenet of their faith. -</p> - -<p> -I wish, however, to make clear my own position, which is the -one that most counts when I am writing. I am an anarchist in poetry: -I recognize no rules, no exclusions. -</p> - -<p> -If the expression of a certain thought, vision, or what not, requires -twenty adjectives, then let us have them. If it be better expressed -without adjectives, then let us abjure them—temporarily. -</p> - -<p> -I am myself a poet (whether performance equals desire is doubtful). -My object as a poet is to express the things which are closest -to me. This sounds banal, but is better than rhetoric; words exist -not with which to define with superclarity the poet’s function, source, -and performance. -</p> - -<p> -In the true expression of myself I might write Images which -would be worshipped for their perfection by the Imagists. A moment -after, I might gloat and wallow in the joy of my cosmic oneness -<a id="page-17" class="pagenum" title="17"></a> -(anathema to Imagists!) and, perhaps recall Whitman. The -next minute, chronicling some shadowy episode of my variegated -past, I may out-decay the decadent Baudelaire. But, this is always -poetry if, by the magic of its words and the music of its arrangement, -it speaks directly and beautifully to you, giving you that indescribable -but unmistakeable sense of liberation and soul-expansion which -comes on the contemplation of true art. -</p> - -<p> -I think I have made myself clear. There is no quarrel with the -Imagists, who have done some beautiful work, as such. But, if they -claim monopoly of inspiration or art, as some of them appear to do, -then—! Therefore, as a restricted and doctrinaire school, “a bas les -Imagistes!” But, as an envigored company of the grand army of -poets, “Vivent les Imagistes!” -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="article" id="OF_RUPERT_BROOKE_AND_OTHER_MATTERS"> -OF RUPERT BROOKE AND OTHER -MATTERS -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="aut"> -ARTHUR DAVISON FICKE -</p> - -<p class="first"> -<span class="firstchar">S</span><span class="postfirstchar">ince</span> even to poets—and poets are erroneously supposed to -sing their hearts out—there remains a certain right of privacy, I am -not sure that we do well in writing so much of their personalities and -their individual views of life. When we read a poem, we feel a -temperament behind it; but the effort to catalogue and label that mind -and its “message” is a little impertinent, and very futile. Mr. Rupert -Brooke is an excellent illustration. His fondness for this or that—whether -in landscape, food, ideas, or morals—is hardly our concern. -He deserves to be treated not as a natural-history specimen,—a peculiar -group of likes and dislikes and convictions,—but as an artist. -</p> - -<p> -Mr. Brooke has the distinction, rare for a young poet, of not -having written any bad verse, or of not having printed it. His sole -volume, <em>Poems</em> (Sidgwick and Jackson, London, 1913), manifests -in even its least notable pieces a creative spirit not allowed to run riot, -but chastened and restrained by a keen sense of the obscure laws -whose workings turn passion into a decorative pattern, and the -emotions of the blood into intelligible designs. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-18" class="pagenum" title="18"></a> -Unless one is deeply concerned with such things, one is not likely -to recognize the fundamental difference between those poets whose -work is merely a more or less interesting emotional cry, and those -nobler and more mature poets in whose work the crude elements of -emotion are subordinated to the exigencies of an artistic conception. -Only the latter have written fine poetry. The former may move -us, as a crying child may move us; but they cannot exalt us to a -peak that rises above the region of mere sympathetic response. They -can never bring us a wind of revelation, or a flame from beyond the -world. They are never the poets to whom other poets—and these -are the only final judges—turn for inspiration or for fellowship. -</p> - -<p> -For after all, there is no magic in any theme or in the emotion -behind it; what is magical lies wholly in the design, the mould, in -which the poet embodies a feeling that is probably common to all. -No thought is so profound, no intimation so subtle, that it alone suffices -as the stuff of poetry. But any thought, any intimation, if it be -justly correlated and moulded into an organic and expressive shape, -will serve to awaken echoes of a forgotten or unknown loveliness, -and pierce its way into the very soul of the listener. -</p> - -<p> -This sense of design of which I speak is not a hard, formal, conscious -thing in the mind of the poet; but rather a carefully trained -instinct, like the instinct that guides the hand of a fine draughtsman -in the drawing of a curve of unexpected beauty. There is a right -place to begin the curve, and a right place to end it; and at every -instant of its length it is swayed and governed by a sense of relation -to preceding and succeeding moments,—a sense subject to laws that -defy mathematical formulation, but are perilously definite nevertheless. -This sense of control is a rare thing to find in the work of so -young a man as Mr. Brooke. Most young writers seem to approach -their work as an unrestrained expression of themselves,—which it -should be: but they forget that, for real self-expression, the most -scrupulous mastery of the medium of expression is necessary. They -regard the writing of verse as something in the nature of a joy-ride -with an open throttle,—instead of seeing in it a piece of difficult driving, -to be achieved only by the use of every subtlety of modulated -speed and controlled steering that the mind is capable of employing. -</p> - -<p> -That Mr. Brooke needs no such warning, let the following fine -sonnet bear witness: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<h3 class="excerpt" id="SUCCESS"> -<a id="page-19" class="pagenum" title="19"></a> -SUCCESS -</h3> - - <div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">I think if you had loved me when I wanted;</p> - <p class="verse">If I’d looked up one day, and seen your eyes,</p> - <p class="verse">And found my wild sick blasphemous prayer granted,</p> - <p class="verse">And your brown face, that’s full of pity and wise,</p> - <p class="verse">Flushed suddenly; the white godhead in new fear</p> - <p class="verse">Intollerably so struggling, and so shamed;</p> - <p class="verse">Most holy and far, if you’d come all too near,</p> - <p class="verse">If earth had seen Earth’s lordliest wild limbs tamed,</p> - <p class="verse">Shaken, and trapped, and shivering, for <em>my</em> touch—</p> - <p class="verse">Myself should I have slain? or that foul you?</p> - <p class="verse">But this the strange gods, who had given so much,</p> - <p class="verse">To have seen and known you, this they might not do.</p> - <p class="verse">One last shame’s spared me, one black word’s unspoken;</p> - <p class="verse">And I’m alone; and you have not awoken.</p> - </div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -It is significant that for his sonnets Mr. Brooke frequently chooses -the Shakesperian form,—a form which, strangely, English poets have -generally for at least a century discarded in favor of the Petrarchan -model. The common feeling appears to be that the Petrarchan (a-b-b-a, -a-b-b-a, c-d-e-c-d-e or some variation on that scheme) is musical and -emotional; and that the Shakesperian (a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g) -is harsh, cold, mechanical, and incapable of subtle harmonies. The -exact reverse of this is the case. It is perhaps too much to ask the -reader to write a sequence of a hundred sonnets in each form, as a -test; but I am confident that after such an experience, he would -agree with me. The Petrarchan form is capable of only one successful -effect; a rising on the crest of a wave, whose summit is the -end of the eighth line; and a subsidence of the wave, in the course -of the last six lines. The Shakesperian form, on the other hand, is -capable of a literally infinite variety of effects: no pattern is set arbitrarily -in advance, but, as in blank verse, any pattern may be -created. The first twelve lines—which are nothing but three quatrains—can -be moulded into a contour that fits any shape or size -of thought whatsoever; and the couplet at the end—a device despised -by the ignorant—may be used either to clinch the purport -of the preceding twelve lines, or to blend with them, or startlingly to -refute them, or to serve any other end that the genius of the writer -is capable of imagining. The mere novice will like this form because -of its simple rhyme-scheme and its superficial ease of working; -the experienced amateur will prefer the Petrarchan form because, -while the more complex rhyme-scheme presents for him no difficulties, -<a id="page-20" class="pagenum" title="20"></a> -the basic inadequacies of his thought-structure are fairly well concealed -by the arbitrary sonnet-structure; but the master of imagination -and expression is likely to follow Shakespeare and the novice in -preferring the true English form, wherein he can with perfect freedom -create a subtly modulated movement that will answer to every -sway and leap of his thought. Mr. Brooke, whose sense of form is -keen, is one of those who can safely and wisely try the more interesting -and more dangerous medium. -</p> - -<p> -I have thought it worth while to talk a good deal of the sonnet -in connection with Mr. Brooke for the reason that several of his very -finest pieces are in this form. The following is one that stands a -good chance of being in the anthologies a hundred years from now: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<h3 class="excerpt" id="THE_HILL"> -THE HILL -</h3> - - <div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Breathless, we flung us on the windy hill,</p> - <p class="verse">Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.</p> - <p class="verse">You said, “Through glory and ecstasy we pass;</p> - <p class="verse">Wind, sun, and earth remain, the birds sing still,</p> - <p class="verse">When we are old, are old ...” “And when we die</p> - <p class="verse">All’s over that is ours; and life burns on</p> - <p class="verse">Through other lovers, other lips,” said I,</p> - <p class="verse">“Heart of my heart, our heaven is now, is won!”</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">“We are Earth’s best, that learnt her lesson here.</p> - <p class="verse">Life is our cry. We have kept the faith!” we said;</p> - <p class="verse">“We shall go down with unreluctant tread</p> - <p class="verse">Rose-crowned into the darkness!” ... Proud we were,</p> - <p class="verse">And laughed, that had such brave, true things to say.</p> - <p class="verse">—And then you suddenly cried, and turned away.</p> - </div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -Perhaps as magical as any of Mr. Brooke’s work is a longer poem -called <em>The Fish</em>,—a remarkable and original piece of fantasy that -makes the sub-aqueous universe vivid and real to the senses of the -reader, and opens to him a new world of imaginative experience. -Even the opening lines will serve to indicate something of the curious -trance-quality: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> - <div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">In a cool curving world he lies</p> - <p class="verse">And ripples with dark ecstasies.</p> - <p class="verse">The kind luxurious lapse and steal</p> - <p class="verse">Shapes all his universe to feel</p> - <p class="verse">And know and be; the clinging stream</p> - <p class="verse">Closes his memory, glooms his dream,</p> - <p class="verse">Who lips the roots o’ the shore, and glides</p> - <p class="verse">Superb on unreturning tides ...</p> - </div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -<a id="page-21" class="pagenum" title="21"></a> -In other of these poems, one is struck by Mr. Brooke’s passion -for ugliness. He loves to take the most hideous and base facts of -life and give them a place in his work alongside the things of beauty. -It would be hard to find anything more humorous and at the same -time more repulsive than this: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<h3 class="excerpt" id="WAGNER"> -WAGNER -</h3> - - <div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Creeps in half wanton, half asleep,</p> - <p class="verse1">One with a fat wide hairless face.</p> - <p class="verse">He likes love music that is cheap;</p> - <p class="verse1">Likes women in a crowded place;</p> - <p class="verse2">And wants to hear the noise they’re making.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">His heavy eyelids droop half-over,</p> - <p class="verse1">Great pouches swing beneath his eyes.</p> - <p class="verse">He listens, thinks himself the lover,</p> - <p class="verse1">Heaves from his stomach wheezy sighs;</p> - <p class="verse2">He likes to feel his heart’s a-breaking.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">The music swells. His gross legs quiver.</p> - <p class="verse1">His little lips are bright with slime.</p> - <p class="verse">The music swells. The women shiver,</p> - <p class="verse1">And all the while, in perfect time</p> - <p class="verse2">His pendulous stomach hangs a-shaking.</p> - </div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -Now, a passion for ugliness like this is really a revolt against -ugliness,—not the tender-skinned æsthete’s revolt, which consists in -denying ugliness and escaping into a remote dream, but the strong -man’s, the poet’s,—the revolt that is in effect a seizing of ugliness -in all its repulsiveness and giving it a reason for existence by embodying -it in a chosen pattern that is beautiful. By this method the poet -masters emotion, even unpleasant emotion, making it subservient to -a decorative design dictated by his own sense of proportion. It is -thus that he is able to endure the world of actualities, and to find it -comparable in interest with the world of his own thoughts. And by -this process he saves himself from the sharpest bite of evil. For there -is a curious consolation in transforming a spontaneous cry into a calculated -work of art. By such a process one can give, to elements -that before seemed only parts of a torturing chaos, their ordered -places in a known scheme. One can impose propitious form upon -one’s recollections, and create a little world of design-relations where -the poignancy of experience is lost in the discipline of beauty. It is -for this reason that the poet must be considered, in spite of everything, -the happiest of men. -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="article" id="THE_NEW_LOYALTY"> -<a id="page-22" class="pagenum" title="22"></a> -THE NEW LOYALTY -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="aut"> -GEORGE BURMAN FOSTER -</p> - -<p class="first"> -<span class="firstchar">B</span><span class="postfirstchar">ack</span> to the Old Greek for a starting-point! Two seeds, of the same -species, though distant in space and time, go through an identical -development. Root corresponds with root, stem with stem, -flower with flower, fruit with fruit. Something seems to control all this -change. It is not <b>mere</b> change. It is change with a plan, a purpose, a -pattern. Hence the Greek said that there must be an unchanging -type, a fixed “idea,” a spiritual, invisible norm, the “first” and “final” -cause of all this change, to which all concrete, particular plants of the -species are true. Back of the visible tangible plant must be its <em>Eidos</em>, -its eternal norm, form, idea, “species.” So with everything. An elaboration -of this conclusion gives the real unchanging, fixed eternal -world back of, underpinning, supporting this visible changing, temporal -world. -</p> - -<p> -Such a world-view as this was made more valuable and more imperative -by the break-up of the traditional morals and religion of the -Greek state. The search for the <em>meaning</em> of life was precipitated by -the disintegration of social sanctions and of the guarantees of custom. -This search was voiced in the questionings of Socrates. It was made -serious by the menacing individualism of the sophists. The outcome -was that stability, security, confidence were found in the Platonic doctrine. -Back of this ephemeral world is the real world of “ideas,” the -unchanging and eternal, upon which we may rest our minds and hearts -amid all this disappointing and desperate flux. -</p> - -<p> -Passing by the Middle Ages, which, <em>mutatis mutandis</em>, appropriated -this scheme, we pause over the significance of the Renaissance -period. Two things are uppermost in one’s mind and as one thinks of -the tumultuous beginnings of modern life which characterized the -fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries. For one thing, the -Renaissance was the culmination of a long period of absorption in -which men had been gradually working their way back, by intellectual -assimilation, towards the beginnings of the rich tradition which Church -and Empire had stored up. This period of absorption was that five -hundred years during which pagan hordes that had conquered Rome -<a id="page-23" class="pagenum" title="23"></a> -were conquered by the knowledge, faith, custom, civilization of their -victims. From the cultural standpoint the new nations were hungry, -the larder of the old civilization was replete, and hence authority on -one side and absorption on the other became natural and inevitable. -Thus, the philosophical preconceptions, the cosmological ground-principles, -the whole general attitude toward life’s problems of the whole -old world were fastened upon the mind of the young European peoples. -<em>It must not be forgotten</em> that all this was <em>aat</em> the <em>hatural</em> achievement -of the new European life and genius, but as foreign to it, as inherited -(and at first as cherished) as grandfatherly ideas are in the mind -of a child. If some day the child must shake off the old conceptions -because he hears the call of life to go forth and achieve his own inner -world, it would be only natural to expect that this young European -giant should some day struggle to cast aside his intellectual inheritance -and go forth to conquer reality for himself, in his own way, with -his own weapons. -</p> - -<p> -Well—and this is the second matter—it was just that very thing -that was happening in the early “teens” of our era. The young western -world began to look at life for itself, and a curious, astonished, -wild-eyed look it was. Europe had learned at its mother’s knee to -say: “The true world is fixed and final. Reality is static.” But looking -out now in wonderment, seeing farther than the ancient world had -ever seen, the new world said: “Ah, no! The world is not static. The -world <em>moves</em>. Things change.” -</p> - -<p> -Two well-known anecdotes are told of Galileo, which, if not -authentic, are well invented. The one tells how, in the dome at Pisa -during worship, the litany or the sermon boring him, he observed the -cathedral chandelier move by the wind and, studying its vibrations, -discovered a basic law of mechanics. The profound meaning of this -anecdote is, obviously, that God spoke to the man more effectively -through the <em>self-moving</em> pendulum than in the rigid, immobile litany -from a rigid, immobile, hieratic heart; and that, if we do not understand -such litany, and it bores us, we may still devoutly worship by -meditating upon what we can understand. -</p> - -<p> -The other narrative tells how, imprisoned, tortured inwardly by -a compulsory recantation, Galileo gathered himself together and declared: -“<em>E pu se muove</em>” (“it moves though”). Galileo never uttered -these words; but the history of the world has uttered them for him! -<a id="page-24" class="pagenum" title="24"></a> -Yes, it moves <em>itself</em>, this earth, and in its motion it knocks everything -down that is in its way. Not the earth alone moves—all that is in -the world is eternal motion! -</p> - -<p> -Man moves—in space, and time, extensively and intensively. -Truth moves, and, moving, demolishes thrones and altars. Morality -moves, making ancient good uncouth. Faith moves, the human heart -putting into it the pulse beat of its life, and there is no way to stop -this self moving Faith. -</p> - -<p> -Those old stories are not true to fact, but they are true to truth. -Galileo <em>did</em> say: “It is my opinion that the earth is very noble and -admirable by reason of so many and so different generations and alterations -which are incessantly made therein.” And Descartes joined -him: “The nature of things physical is much more easily conceived -when they are beheld coming gradually into existence, than when they -are only considered as produced at once in a finished and perfect -state.” Thus these men—and many others—voiced the changed -temper that was coming over the world,—the transfer of interest -from the permanent to the changing. -</p> - -<p> -Slowly the new attitude was adopted in many departments of -knowledge, but the facts of biology were apparently all against its -becoming a general philosophical movement. The species of plants -and animals had every appearance of being fixed and final, unchangeably -stamped once for all upon the sentient world by the Creator. Not -only so, but the wonderful adaptation of organism to environment, -of organ to organism, a marvelous and delicate complexity of teleological -adjustment, seemed to testify unanswerably to the reality of -fixed and final types, to a static underpinning for all this changing -order. -</p> - -<p> -<em>Origin of</em> Species! That was the bomb with which Charles Darwin -destroyed the last stronghold of a static world-view. “Species” -is the scholastics’ translation of the Greek <em>Eidos</em>, the fixed and final -type or idea which is first and final cause of the changing life of each -creature. Species is a synonym and epitome of fixity and finality; -it is the key-word of a static other-world reality. When Darwin said, -“<em>Origin</em> of Species,” he was cramming the conflict of the ancient wisdom -and the modern knowledge into a bursting phrase. When he -said of species what Galileo said of the earth, <em>e pu se muove</em>, he -emancipated once for all genetic and experimental ideas as an <em>organon</em> -<a id="page-25" class="pagenum" title="25"></a> -of asking questions and looking for explanations. He lifted -the biological gates which had kept back the flood of change from -inundating the old fields of fixity. -</p> - -<p> -In sum: The world of thought is slowly, painfully making a -change in its fundamental attitude toward reality such as is not made -oftener than once in several millennia: One general conception of -reality was all-controlling for 2,000 years. Then from Copernicus -to Darwin many factors in a world-subversive change were struggling -for recognition. Conceptions that had reigned in the philosophy of -nature and of knowledge for 2,000 years rested in the superiority of -the fixed and final: they rested on treating change and origin as signs -of defect and unreality. In laying hands upon the sacred ark of absolute -permanency; in treating forms that had been regarded as types -of fixity and perfection as originating and passing away, the “origin of -species” introduced a mode of thinking that in the end was bound to -transform the logic of knowledge, and hence the treatment of all our -values and verities and virtues. -</p> - -<p> -But heaven and earth and species are not all. Shall there be no -Copernicus of the moral heavens, no Galileo of the moral earth, no -Darwin of the moral life? -</p> - -<p> -Hove now Friedrich Nietzsche into sight! -</p> - -<p> -Loyalty has ever been the basic virtue, foundation of life and of -law. Naturally, in the moral world, the objects to which loyalty shall -be related will be objects that are real. But, as we have seen, in the -old world, the real was the unchangeable, the immobile, the finished, -the final, the absolute. To these, therefore, the old loyalty was directed -and dedicated. -</p> - -<p> -Comes now Friedrich Nietzsche, a man in whose name the entire -moral revolution of our time has found its most pregnant expression, -and declares war upon that old loyalty, and does so in the name of -a new culture, a new humanity. To him this loyalty is not only an -empty folly; it is more than that—a crime against life, a weakening -of human power. To him, not stationariness, but <em>self-changing</em>, is -the life task of man. He feels himself akin only to him who changes. -Every moment of life has an existence, a right, a content of its own. -No present point of time has a right to lay claim, on its own account, -to the next point. From what we now will, think, feel, no man may -presume to require us to will, think, feel the same way tomorrow. -<a id="page-26" class="pagenum" title="26"></a> -And this preaching of Nietzsche’s on the duty of change as against -the old duty to change never has found more ears to listen and more -hearts to believe than any other preaching of our time. This new -preaching is at once most influential and most dangerous. But its -very dangerousness is a most wholesome and necessary part of the -modern moral view of life. -</p> - -<p> -Is loyalty, then, something about which there is nothing to be -learned? Is there no counterfeit and caricature of loyalty? No mask -behind which men hide their indolence and complacency and thoughtlessness? -You meet a man whom you have not seen in long years, -and you say to him: “Why, you have not changed a bit, you are -precisely the same as in the old days.” Have you praised him, necessarily? -If he left you as a child, looking and speaking and thinking -and acting like a child, ought he not to have changed? Does a fruit -remain what it was as bud and blossom? Life is development—but -development is a constant <em>self-changing</em>. Development is an incessant -<em>dis</em>-loyalty to what is already there. And if man, just because -he is man, and has a will of his own and can set himself against the -law of development, should sell his life to the force of inertia—would -not that be a crime against life? And yet, even such a deed men -call loyalty! Men say that they want to be faithful to the heritage -of the fathers. Which is often enough simply to say that they mean -to store away their heritage where it will be kept from the world’s -light and air that would destroy it—but where, also, it can enter into -no human intercourse, serve no life, fulfil no end of life. This loyalty -of unchangeableness to the heritage puts the talent in a napkin, -and there can be no increase. Men say that they mean to abide faithful -to their faith unto death. Often enough this is only stubbornness -and narrowness. It requires no art and no merit to exercise such -faithfulness. All one needs to do is to close one’s eyes and ears to -what lies beyond the bounds of this faith, to forego the questionings -and uncertainties that others must pass through,—and then to send in -one’s claim to the reward and gratitude due such loyalty! Today it is -quite the thing at college commencements to spy out the men who are -models of such loyalty and to say: “Look how firm and steadfast -and rock-like they are!” But it cannot be denied that much of this -illustrious loyalty is nothing but natural or voluntary incapacity to -think more widely than others have taught them to think, or, for the -<a id="page-27" class="pagenum" title="27"></a> -matter of that, permitted them to think. Back of this bragging about -principles which are vainly declared to be unshakable, there is frequently -nothing but an ill-natured obstinacy whose so-called principles -have no other basis than the self-interest to which they are contributary. -It was this loyalty to the finished,—finished cult, finished -belief, finished customs and practices, finished religion and morality,—that -stoned the prophets and crucified Jesus. It was this kind of loyalty -that the mediaeval church imposed upon the “Faithful,” imprisoning -the conscience therein for time and for eternity. Bound by an -oath of loyalty, the priest renounced the world; the monk and nun -under monastic vows dedicated their lives to the church, their services -to “heaven.” And hence it marked an epoch when Luther called -their loyalty a sin, and went forth into the world, the home, the vocation, -the business, breaking the vows of priest and cloister. Was -such disloyalty to a sacred obligation loyalty in the sixteenth century, -and shall it be blasphemy in the twentieth? Is it not rather a -blasphemy to preach to men a loyalty which obligates them to forego -the use of their best and noblest powers, which condemns them to -spiritual standstill in the eternal progressive movement of life? -</p> - -<p> -Take some illustrations which will test insight and courage. -There is the constitution of the United States. Shall we assume -toward it the loyalty of fixedness and finality, or the loyalty of change? -No man of veneration and equipoise would favor capricious or precipitate -or superfluous change in so noble a document. But, for all -that, the experience of life made the constitution for life’s sake, and -the maker is more than the made. If our national life pass—as pass -it has—into new seas and under new stars, where life needs a change -of the constitution, then the principle which prompted the people to -frame the constitution in the first place requires them to change it -to meet the new needs of our growing and changing national life. -The superficial loyalty to the changeless letter must yield to the profound -loyalty to the ever-changing spirit. The constitution is for -the sake of the people, not the people for the sake of the constitution. -They, rather than it, are sacred. -</p> - -<p> -Similarly, there is the modern problem of marriage, the family, -and the home. Shall ours be the old loyalty that holds the customs -of the past inviolable, marriage indissoluble, the inherited patterns of -home and family unchangeable—the loyalty of fixedness and finishedness; -<a id="page-28" class="pagenum" title="28"></a> -or shall it be the loyalty of change in all these matters to meet -the changing needs and situations of our burdened and bewildered -modernity? Again, no man of sanctity and sanity and stability of -soul can favor any arbitrary radicalism that is subversive of time-honored -institutions <em>for no better reason</em> than a fleeting fancy, or the -passing of the romance of the honeymoon, or raw self-will, or an unanticipated -burden or hardship. But, for all that, the marriage institution, -like all others, is for the sake of man and not man for the sake -of the institution. It was <em>life</em> that originated our domestic ideas and -customs and conventions and codes; and if ever life, in the interest -of its well-being and progress, requires changes suited to new needs -and new days, then the “new loyalty” to life that ever changes must -replace the old loyalty to codes that never change. Codes, too, are -for the sake of life, not life for the sake of codes. No loyalty to the -letter that means disloyalty to the spirit. -</p> - -<p> -And there is the everlasting problem of education. Education -in the past had for its subject matter symbols—reading, writing, arithmetic, -grammar, rhetoric, logic, and the like. The new education has -for its subject matter realities—nature and history. The old education -taught topics or subjects; the new education teaches boys and -girls. According to the old education, knowledge precedes action; -according to the new education, action precedes knowledge. In the -old education things were done to the pupils; in the new education the -pupils do things. -</p> - -<p> -The old school teacher was a “star and dwelt apart”—that is, -his aloofness and superiority were indispensable. He taught from -above. The new school teacher is down among the students, a democrat -of democrats. The old school teacher communicated knowledge -from without; the new school teacher develops interest from within. -The old education was atomistic, the new organic. The old education -was a donation to the pupils, the new is an achievement by them. -The old education proceeded on the assumption that man is primarily -intellect; the new that he is primarily will. The old education preceded -life and fitted for it; the new education is a part of life itself. -</p> - -<p> -It is a great change. According to the old theory, there was perfection -to start with, perfection at the top. All that we needed was -to pipe it down through aqueducts so well constructed that nothing -that was in could get out, nothing that was without could get in; -<a id="page-29" class="pagenum" title="29"></a> -and thus—thus only—would the vain and empty world and life be -filled with value and verity and virtue—donation on the one side, reception -on the other. -</p> - -<p> -But the time came when men asked: if there is perfection to -start with, why start? Why paint the lily? And if there is perfection -to start with, how does there come to be imperfection? How -can imperfection come from perfection? Ugly questions, these! Soon -the world was turned upside down. -</p> - -<p> -The new theory holds that matters began very humbly and -struggled and fought their way slowly upward. Ascent from below, -not descent from above. No values or verities or virtues donated, -all achieved. Education an evolution, not a communication. -</p> - -<p> -Some business men favor the old education. Their world is one -of mechanism and authority. They think that they do not need men -with initiative, spontaneity, freedom. That is their prerogative, as -it was of the king of old. They need the mechanical, the automatic, -the impersonal in man. This fits into their world. This is what the -old education stands for. The new education unfolds and matures -personalities. Personalities make good masters but poor servants. -</p> - -<p> -Business men as a class are perhaps our best men. But the very -conditions of business economy and certainty are the impersonal, the -unfree, the mechanical. So business has warped the judgment of some -good men and led them astray on the most fundamental problem in -the history of the race. -</p> - -<p> -Were it not multiplying illustrations, the same point might be -urged as to politics. Does not party loyalty often mean personal -servility? As a matter of fact what is loyalty in one situation, or -one age, may be simple cowardice or abjectness in another. -</p> - -<p> -The upshot is that the modern man has to endure the reproach -of not thinking and feeling and judging and acting as men formerly -did—the reproach of perfidy toward the past, its solutions and its sanctities. -In consequence, it would not be a bad idea for him to cultivate -respect for the past, gratitude for its achievements, appreciation for -its unfinished tasks. Still, he should learn to accept the reproach as -praise,—recognition that, though problems remain the same, solutions -change; though sanctity abide, the objects which are sacred -change. <em>Evolutionism no longer recognizes any fact as sacred.</em> -<a id="page-30" class="pagenum" title="30"></a> -Man is inwardly working on ever farther, ever overcoming the old -and conquering ever the new—this must also be recognized. -</p> - -<p> -It is said that we ought to love the old, the finished. But is love -blind? Does it consist in advocating the point of view of one’s friend, -not because it seems true, but just because love requires it? Is loyalty -of love the faculty of adaptation with which we remodel ourselves -after the image of another? Is one disloyal in love if one affirm -one’s self against another, or if another affirm himself against one? -Surely fidelity of friendship, even of marriage, ought not to be the -grave of one’s own being. Surely loyalty should be the life and not -the death of one’s self! Surely we must all see with our own eyes, -hear with our own ears, judge with our own judgments, love with -our own hearts, for the quite plain reason that we have no others -with which we can do these things. -</p> - -<p> -And so, if we take up this great subject in a large way, as -Nietzsche has done, we see that we have all broken with the old loyalty, -and that the consummation of this breach has been life and -blessing to us. We moderns all somehow live in a disloyalty which -we have committed—imputed to us as transgression, viewed by us as -our strength and pride. We have all become unfaithful,—as children -to our parents, as pupils to our teachers, as disciples to our masters. -We felt ourselves bound to them; we loosed ourselves from -them. The paths they walked we have forsaken. In the strange untrodden -land whither our vagrant feet have wandered, we “came to -ourselves” in declaring disobedience to the laws of tradition, in breaking -loyalty to the rules of the schools. It is precisely on this account -that once again we have won spiritual life, a living art and science, -a living religion and morality. We have snapped the fetters fastened -upon us in the name of the old loyalty, and all that is great and fruitful -and constructive in the life of the modern spirit is a monument -of the disloyalty which its creators have built thereto. Nothing is -gained any longer by our screening ourselves behind this word loyalty, -and making believe that we shall not be found out! We owe it to -ourselves and we owe it to the world to confess frankly that we have -done with the old loyalty to the unchangeable and the finished, for -that is to be loyal to an unreality, <em>since there is no such thing</em>. Even -God, if he be the living God, cannot be the same yesterday, today, -and forever. But we owe it even more to ourselves and to the world -to strive for a clear position in reference to this question which is so -<a id="page-31" class="pagenum" title="31"></a> -profoundly agitating our entire moral world today. We may not -abandon the field to those who would demolish the temple of the old -goddess simply that they may celebrate upon its ruins the orgies of -their caprice and inconstancy and characterlessness. If ever there was -a doctrine whose right is easily turned into a wrong, whose truth -into an error, whose blessing into a curse, it is this Nietzschean doctrine -of the right and the duty of ceaseless change, of self-dependence, -by which we are redeemed from slavery to the past. If the old loyalty—loyalty -to the past—no longer holds men, wherewith shall they be -held? Shall they be like the weathervane blown hither and thither -by every wind of doctrine, or like the rudderless ship driven aimless -and planless over the high seas by the midnight hurricane? Better -a thousand times be tethered to the old loyalty than to be doomed to -such a life of levity and poiselessness and flightiness. -</p> - -<p> -But the new loyalty which we seek, without which we go forward -into no future, should it not be more stable and enduring and -<b>loyal</b> than the old? If a moment releases itself from what to it is past, -and validates its right as a self-dependent life to its predecessor, a -birth has transpired in man, and birth means pain. Without such -pain, man has changed his situation, but not himself. A new color -has come upon the motly manifoldness of his life—<em>he</em> has remained -the same. Trees do not have their roots in the air. Weaklings cannot -make the real change—it needs a strength that they do not have. -The strength to change really—only he has this who bears the new -loyalty in his own bosom; loyalty not to his opinion, not to his learning -and heritage, but loyalty to his <em>growth</em>, to the great eternal goal -of life, to the great sacred task which he has yet to fulfil in life. -</p> - -<p> -Loyal to ourself? Would that it might be so! But the self that -we would at first be loyal to is not <b>our</b> self at all. It is foreign wares, -loaded upon us,—first even in the nursery, slyly slipped subsequently -upon our shoulders,—foreign words, foreign worths! Loyalty to what -satiates, not the better loyalty to our hunger! We begin to live only -when we live in our hunger; our hunger is we ourselves. It is a good -satiety only if a new hunger comes from it. Loyalty to our self—this -is to keep <b>our</b> life alive in us—a young glad life, that never grows -old, because the old is ever transmuted into a new. This loyalty to -ourself,—it is to expel from every truth its error, from every boundary -<a id="page-66" class="pagenum" title="66"></a> -its limit which blocks the vision into the wide world, the blue -sky, and the distant sea. -</p> - -<p> -Loyalty to men? Would that it might be so! But such loyalty -costs so much trouble and toil. For the faithfulness that is genuine -and living, there is no law, no binding <em>I must</em>, only a glorious <em>I will</em>. -One day we shall have done with the loyalty which means master and -servant, leader and led—the loyalty of the dog that is loyalest to him -who feeds him best or beats him hardest. One day we shall understand -what the loyalty of man means—this new loyalty toward man, -in which souls meet and chime and work together, and live in each -other, yet each remains itself and true to itself. -</p> - -<p> -So, then, the law of change and of growth is the law of the new -loyalty, as the law of fixedness and finishedness and finality was of -the old. It is the duty of such new loyalty to protect itself against -the deadening force of habit and of petrifaction, to guard itself against -any obedience by which it would become disloyal to itself. Such -loyalty is too honorable to humor inertia and laziness under its banner, -too courageous to conceal cowardice behind a slave’s patience. -</p> - -<p> -But thought on our theme is usually lifted up to where the sky -keeps company with the granite and the grass, to a religious elevation. -Nor do we need stop short here. Ultimately the new loyalty -is loyalty to God, the new God, of whom something must be said -later. The God in whom all fulness dwells summons us to ever new -truths, and reveals underground wells of living water throwing its -spray aloft on life’s ferns and flowers. To be loyal to him is never -to sunder ourselves from his fulness and freshness, but to co-work -with him who is forever making all things new. -</p> - -<p> -And now I think we are at the end. The result? It is needless -to state it, but I would not shrink from the thankless task. In a word, -then, the new loyalty—in harmony with the whole great changed -view of the world and of life—is loyalty to change and becoming -rather than to finishedness and finality; to the future rather than to -the past; to ideals rather than to conventions; to freedom rather than -to authority; to personality rather than to institution; to character -rather than to respectability; to our hunger rather than to our satiety; -to the God that is to be rather than to the God that is. Thus the -loyalty abides, but the objects of loyalty change and pass. -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="article" id="THE_MILLINER_POEM"> -<a id="page-32" class="pagenum" title="32"></a> -THE MILLINER -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="aut"> -SADE IVERSON -</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">All the day long I have been sitting in my shop</p> - <p class="verse">Sewing straw on hat-shapes according to the fashion,</p> - <p class="verse">Putting lace and ribbon on according to the fashion,</p> - <p class="verse">Setting out the faces of customers according to fashion.</p> - <p class="verse">Whatever they asked for I tried to give them;</p> - <p class="verse">Over their worldly faces I put mimic flowers</p> - <p class="verse">From out my silk and velvet garden; I bade Spring come</p> - <p class="verse">To those who had seen Autumn; I coaxed faded eyes</p> - <p class="verse">To look bright and hard brows to soften.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Not once, while they were looking in the glass,</p> - <p class="verse">Did I peep over their shoulders to see myself.</p> - <p class="verse">It would have been quite unavailing for me,</p> - <p class="verse">Who have grown grey in service of other women,</p> - <p class="verse">To have used myself as any sort of a model.</p> - <p class="verse">Had I looked in the mirror I should have seen</p> - <p class="verse">Only a bleached face, long housed from sunshine,</p> - <p class="verse">A mouth quick with forced smiles, eyes greyly stagnant,</p> - <p class="verse">And over all, like a night fog creeping,</p> - <p class="verse">Something chill and obscuring and dead—</p> - <p class="verse">The miasmatic mist of the soul of the lonely.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">When night comes and the buyers are gone their ways,</p> - <p class="verse">I go into the little room behind my shop.</p> - <p class="verse">It is my home—my silent and lonely home;</p> - <p class="verse">But it has fire, it has food; there is a bed;</p> - <p class="verse">Pictures are on the walls, showing the faces</p> - <p class="verse">I kissed in girlhood. I am myself here;</p> - <p class="verse">All my forced smiles are laid away with the moline</p> - <p class="verse">And the ribbon and roses. I may do as I please.</p> - <p class="verse">If I beat with my fists on the table, no one hears;</p> - <p class="verse">If I lie in my bed, staring, staring,</p> - <p class="verse">No one can know; I shall not suffer the pity</p> - <p class="verse">Of those who, passing, see my light edge the grey curtain.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> -<a id="page-33" class="pagenum" title="33"></a> - <p class="verse">One night, long ago, merely for madness</p> - <p class="verse">I stripped myself like a dancing girl;</p> - <p class="verse">I draped myself with rose-hued silks</p> - <p class="verse">And set a crimson feather in my hair.</p> - <p class="verse">There were twists of gold lace about my arms</p> - <p class="verse">And a girdle of gold about my waist.</p> - <p class="verse">I danced before the mirror till I dropped!</p> - <p class="verse">(Outside I could hear the rain falling</p> - <p class="verse">And the wind crept in beneath my door</p> - <p class="verse">Along my worn carpet.)</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse11">I folded my finery</p> - <p class="verse">And prayed as if kneeling beside my mother.</p> - <p class="verse">Whether there was listening I cannot say.</p> - <p class="verse">There was praying! There was praying!</p> - <p class="verse">Never again shall I dance before the mirror</p> - <p class="verse">Bedizened like a dancing girl—never, my mother!</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">I have a low voice and quiet movements,</p> - <p class="verse">And early and late I study to please.</p> - <p class="verse">As long as I live I shall be adorning other women,</p> - <p class="verse">I shall be decking them for their lovers</p> - <p class="verse">And sending them upon women’s adventures.</p> - <p class="verse">But none of them shall see behind this curtain</p> - <p class="verse">Where I have my little home, where I weep</p> - <p class="verse">When I please, and beat upon the table with my fists.</p> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="article" id="NUR_WER_DIE_SEHNSUCHT_KENNT"> -<a id="page-34" class="pagenum" title="34"></a> -“NUR WER DIE SEHNSUCHT KENNT” -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="aut"> -MARGARET C. ANDERSON -</p> - -<p class="first"> -<span class="firstchar">I</span><span class="postfirstchar">n</span> one of Chicago’s big department stores of the cheaper type you -may—provided you’re something of a poet—walk straight into the -heart of a musical adventure. It is that amazing, resentful, and very -satisfying adventure of discovering genius at work, under the by no -means unique condition of being unrecognized. -</p> - -<p> -You go to one of the upper floors where the big lunch-room is. -You find a table near a platform in the center, on which sit four -musicians—a pianist, a ’cellist, a clarinet<em>ist</em> (if there is such a thing), -and a second violinist. You expect the usual clamor.... -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly you notice a fifth figure who has been sitting quietly in -the background. She comes forward with a violin in her hand, and -stands ready to play. There is something still about her—that quality -of stillness which is invariably the first thing you notice in any dynamic. -She seems not scornful of her surroundings, but quite indifferent to -them; not arrogant, but sure of power; not timid, and yet incredibly -soft and shy and serious. She is plainly foreign; she is German, looks -French, and plays like a Viennese. Or, to be exact, she merges the -German “heaviness” with the Viennese gay-sadness, and the result is a -sensuousness that is both deep and clear, with the haunting wail that -distinguishes all the music which comes from Vienna. She looks -almost like a little girl; but you would notice her any place because -of that stillness and the haunting appeal that always attaches to a -certain type of eyes and mouth—the kind which seem to say: “I -will make music for you; I will take you to a new world. I will do -it because I can dream intensely.” -</p> - -<p> -She begins to play, and you understand why you watched her. -The depth of it startles you at first—it is so big, so moving, so almost -uncanny coming from such a small person, whose hands seem -scarcely large enough to hold a violin. It is playing of the Mischa -Elman type, without his emotional extravagances and with something -that is more soul-shaking. If I were an Imagist I could find the -right word; but this music eludes me. It is sure and simple. It grips -<a id="page-35" class="pagenum" title="35"></a> -you till you don’t know whether you are listening to music or to the -urge of some hidden inner self. It is a divine thing. -</p> - -<p> -In the midst of it the waitresses rush back and forth, the patrons -eat their food with interest, only pausing to applaud when some tawdry -vaudevillian sings a particularly vulgar song. The dishes clang, -some one upsets a tray with a great crash, and at intervals there is a -tango outrage by a couple who know nothing about dancing. Underneath -it all the violin throbs its deep accompaniment. -</p> - -<p> -I wish I could make a poem of it. I have thought of taking my -poet friends there and having the thing done. But almost without -exception the poets I know don’t care for music essentially; though -why a mind keyed to the tone qualities of words should be so tone-deaf -in another medium has always been a mystery to me. And what -a poet’s opportunity here: “the boom and squeal,” and out of it music -that is as sacred as an organ meditation and as passionate as a Russian -slave song! -</p> - -<p> -However, generalizations will not serve to give any musician’s -special quality, and this one is so emphatically individual -as to make description easy. To begin with, she was concertising in -Europe as a wonder-child at the age of six. For a number of years her -playing brought forth a chorus of superlatives from the critics: “her -full blooming tone, her great taste in phrasing, economic use of the -bow, glowing passion of interpretation; her fiery temperament, remarkable -earnestness and will power, the soul, life, and emotion in -her presentations.” The verdict of a “a veritable artist soul” appeared -to be unanimous; and one man summed up with admirable insight and -simplicity: “Her chief excellence is in this: that she seeks her main -task to be an artist in the real and earnest sense of the word, and whosoever -comes to hear music does not go empty from her.” -</p> - -<p> -Friedrich Spielhagen wrote a sonnet to her, of which I have a -careful, but metrically inadequate, translation: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> - <div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Thou standst before us, a picture of wondrous charm;</p> - <p class="verse">The little violin thou holdst, in tenderess,</p> - <p class="verse">Half maidenly, half like a child in dress</p> - <p class="verse">Hast soared away from Heaven’s angel-farm</p> - <p class="verse">Toward where thy large mild eye is dreaming.</p> - </div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -And he ended it with these lines: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> - <div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> -<a id="page-36" class="pagenum" title="36"></a> - <p class="verse">Thou movest thy bow;</p> - <p class="verse">No sounds are these of nicely movéd strings,</p> - <p class="verse">No, No! Thy own sweet soul rings out and sings</p> - <p class="verse">The melodies that have with you come</p> - <p class="verse">From yon high wide-sphered home,</p> - <p class="verse">To where thy longing soul swings upward now.</p> - </div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -Our apologies to Mr. Spielhagen for that more than atrocious -twelfth line and for the other deficiencies! But the last line is particularly -keen in its photography. It has the spirit of her. -</p> - -<p> -After much touring in Europe she came to this country and -played under the same promising conditions. The critics predicted -that if she should decide to stay here she would probably out-rival our -own few noted women violinists. And then came a period of sorrow, -bereavement, hardship, and illness—and in the meantime the problem -of living. That problem becomes a real one when an artist loves life -just a bit more than her art and refuses to make that spiritual compromise -which life tries to wrest from one in the hard places. One -must live, and it takes money to do it rather than art. The romantic notion -that all genius has to do is to stand up and make itself heard is -one of the silliest notions the great public suffers from. Only the -hundredth person recognizes genius when it proclaims itself; the rest -are as blind as this department-store audience until the sign-posts have -been put up, with letters large enough to be easily read. Also, the -amount of machinery and money involved in the arrangement of concert -engagements would surprise the public as much as the true stories -of what it costs the “wealthy patron” to get his artist started toward -recognition. -</p> - -<p> -And so this particular genius will continue for a while to cast her -pearls in a lunch-room, and a few of the discerning will find her out -and thank their stars that they may hear such beauty at the small cost -of a bad club sandwich and a worse cup of coffee. -</p> - -<p> -If you go there you will be haunted by music for days afterward. -I say “haunted” because that is the only word to describe your feeling -of pursuit by melody. And I think I have discovered the reason -for it. A poet once said that the only permanent emotion we human -beings are capable of is—not love, as we like to imagine—but <em>longing</em>. -And that is what this music says to you. It is the very essence of longing—the -eternal seeking, the rapturous satisfaction, the disappointment, -<a id="page-37" class="pagenum" title="37"></a> -and the renewed quest. I have never heard such a quality of -<em>sehnsucht</em> in any music; it is almost more than you can bear. Of -course, in these surroundings, you must listen to the complete gamut -of new popular songs; but at intervals, when the managerial demand -for “noise” can be ignored for a moment, you will be rewarded by -the Thais <em>Meditation</em> or a Schutt waltz or that exquisite Saint-Saens -poem called <em>The Swan</em>—or even a Tschaikowsky song. Where does -the tone come from, you keep wondering? Not from a wooden instrument, -not from small human fingers, surely. It is tone of such -richness and depth that you sometimes have the illusion of each note -being sung twice. “It transcends music to me entirely and becomes -a matter of life—or of soul,” said a critic who listened with me the -other day. -</p> - -<p> -Through it all the artist’s earnest face is still and unchanging. -That is part of the fascination—the contrast of that tumultuous singing -and the thoughtful, dreaming face that seems to control it all. “My -violin belongs to me—yes,” she says, “but that is such a cold word. -It is part of my body. I feel it is growing on me just like my arms -and hands. I could not live without it.” If you watch her closely you -will decide that her playing is the result of an extraordinary sensitiveness -to life. If you know her, as I do, you will expand that judgment -to this one: an extraordinary strength about life; for she is both deep -and strong—qualities that are supposed to be inseparable, but which -are so rarely found together that their combination means—a great -spirit. -</p> - -<div class="filler"> -<p class="noindent"> -I am afraid I am too much of a musician not to be a romanticist. With -out music life to me would be a mistake.—<em>Nietzsche to Brandes, 1888.</em> -</p> - -<p class="tb"> - -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -All restlessness, misery, all crime, is the result of the betrayal of one’s -inner life.—<em>Will Lexington Comfort in “Midstream.”</em> -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="editorials chapter"> -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="editorials" id="EDITORIALS"> -<a id="page-38" class="pagenum" title="38"></a> -EDITORIALS -</h2> - -</div> - -<h3 class="section" id="OUR_NEW_POET"> -Our New Poet -</h3> - -<p class="first"> -<span class="firstchar">C</span><span class="postfirstchar">harles</span> Ashleigh, who makes his appearance in this issue, was born in -London twenty-five years ago. He was educated in England, Switzerland, and -Germany, and speaks French, German, and Spanish, “as well as two or three -varieties of English and American slang.” He has wandered in Europe, South -America and this country, traveling on foot through Argentine, Chile, and Peru, -and in the States as a hobo. He has been sailor, newspaper man, tramp, actor, -farm hand, railroad clerk, interpreter, and a few other things. He has written -verse, short stories, social studies, literary criticism, and lectured on his travels -as well as on sociological, literary, and dramatic subjects. Quite unlike those poets -who insist that they have no opinions on any subject—that they simply photograph -life—Mr. Ashleigh states his creed in this way: “I am interested in -Labor, literature, and many other aspects and angles of Life. Men and deeds are -to me of primary importance and books secondary.” We look for big things -from this young man. -</p> - -<h3 class="section" id="TWO_IMPORTANT_BOOKS"> -Two Important Books -</h3> - -<p class="first"> -<span class="firstchar">M</span><span class="postfirstchar">ary</span> Austin has written a study of marriage which she calls <em>Love and the -Soul Maker</em>. It appears to be about as big a thing on the subject as any -American woman has done. Will Lexington Comfort has written an autobiographical -novel which he calls <em>Midstream</em>. It tells the truth about a man’s life, -and is also a big thing. Both will be reviewed in the August issue. -</p> - -<h3 class="section" id="THE_CONGO"> -The Congo -</h3> - -<p class="first"> -<span class="firstchar">N</span><span class="postfirstchar">icholas</span> Vachel Lindsay’s new poem, <em>The Congo</em>, is to appear in <em>The -Metropolitan</em> for August. Mr. Lindsay’s opinion is that the best effect will be -got by reading it aloud. -</p> - -<h3 class="section" id="THE_BASIS_FOR_A_NEW_PAINTING"> -The Basis for a New Painting -</h3> - -<p class="first"> -<span class="firstchar">T</span><span class="postfirstchar">ruly</span> these Imagists are enchanting! The following examples are selected -from the anthology published by <em>The Glebe</em>: -</p> - - <div class="excerpt"> -<h4 class="excerpt" id="FAN-PIECE_FOR_HER_IMPERIAL_LORD"> -Fan-Piece for Her Imperial Lord -</h4> - - <div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">O fan of white silk,</p> - <p class="verse6">clear as frost on the grass-blade,</p> - <p class="verse">You also are laid aside.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza attr"> - <p class="verse">Ezra Pound.</p> - </div> - </div> - </div> -<h4 class="excerpt" id="IN_A_GARDEN"> -In A Garden -</h4> - - <div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Gushing from the mouths of stone men</p> - <p class="verse">To spread at ease under the sky</p> - <p class="verse">In granite-lipped basins,</p> - <p class="verse">Where iris dabble their feet</p> - <p class="verse">And rustle to a passing wind,</p> -<a id="page-39" class="pagenum" title="39"></a> - <p class="verse">The water fills the garden with its rushing,</p> - <p class="verse">In the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Damp smell the ferns in tunnels of stone,</p> - <p class="verse">Where trickle and splash the fountains,</p> - <p class="verse">Marble fountains, yellowed with much water.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Splashing down moss-tarnished steps</p> - <p class="verse">It falls, the water;</p> - <p class="verse">And the air is throbbing with it;</p> - <p class="verse">With its gurgling and running;</p> - <p class="verse">With its leaping, and deep, cool murmur.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">And I wished for night and you.</p> - <p class="verse">I wanted to see you in the swimming-pool,</p> - <p class="verse">White and shining in the silver-flecked water.</p> - <p class="verse">While the moon rode over the garden</p> - <p class="verse">High in the arch of night,</p> - <p class="verse">And the scent of the lilacs was heavy with stillness.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Night and the water, and you in your whiteness, bathing!</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza attr"> - <p class="verse">Amy Lowell.</p> - </div> - </div> - </div> -<h4 class="excerpt" id="AU_VIEUX_JARDIN"> -Au Vieux Jardin -</h4> - - <div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">I have sat here happy in the gardens,</p> - <p class="verse">Watching the still pool and the reeds</p> - <p class="verse">And the dark clouds</p> - <p class="verse">Which the wind of the upper air</p> - <p class="verse">Tore like the green leafy bough</p> - <p class="verse">Of the divers-hued trees of late summer;</p> - <p class="verse">But though I greatly delight</p> - <p class="verse">In these and the water lilies,</p> - <p class="verse">That which sets me nighest to weeping</p> - <p class="verse">Is the rose and white colour of the smooth flag-stones,</p> - <p class="verse">And the pale yellow grasses</p> - <p class="verse">Among them.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza attr"> - <p class="verse">Richard Aldington.</p> - </div> - </div> - </div> -<h4 class="excerpt" id="TSAI_CHIH"> -Ts’ai Chi’h -</h4> - - <div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">The petals fall in the fountain,</p> - <p class="verse5">the orange coloured rose-leaves,</p> - <p class="verse">Their ochre clings to the stone.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza attr"> - <p class="verse">Ezra Pound.</p> - </div> - </div> - </div> -<h4 class="excerpt" id="LIU_CHE"> -Liu Ch’e -</h4> - - <div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">The rustling of the silk is discontinued,</p> - <p class="verse">Dust drifts over the courtyard,</p> - <p class="verse">There is no sound of footfall, and the leaves</p> - <p class="verse">Scurry into heaps and lie still,</p> - <p class="verse">And she the rejoicer of the heart is beneath them.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">A wet leaf that clings to the threshold.</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza attr"> - <p class="verse">Ezra Pound.</p> - </div> - </div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="article" id="NEW_YORK_LETTER"> -<a id="page-40" class="pagenum" title="40"></a> -NEW YORK LETTER -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="aut"> -GEORGE SOULE -</p> - -<h3 class="section" id="GEORGE_BRANDESA_HASTY_IMPRESSION"> -GEORGE BRANDES—A HASTY IMPRESSION -</h3> - -<p class="first"> -<span class="firstchar">T</span><span class="postfirstchar">he</span> man who fought the big battle for Ibsen and Nietzsche should -have filled Madison Square Garden; as it was, the little Comedy -Theatre wasn’t large enough to hold the audience, although Scandinavian -patriotism accounted for a good deal of it. He came on the -stage with Brander Matthews, the apotheosis of the academic, and the -contrast was striking. Matthews was tall, dull, professional. Brandes, -with his keen face, alert eyes, and shock of grayish hair, was possibly -the most fully alive person in the room. He radiated interest—human -connection with anything vital. -</p> - -<p> -We were all a little sorry his subject was Shakespeare; we wanted -to hear of something modern. And when the first part of the lecture -was read, couched in scholarly but terse English, we felt cheated. It -was good criticism, and informing, but it wasn’t the sort of thing we -had expected from Brandes. Suddenly a spark shot out. (The quotation -is from memory): -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -We cannot emphasize too strongly the fact that all works of literature -which have a real effect on mankind, all works which endure hundreds of -years, find their inspiration not in books, but in life. -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -The words were pronounced with excited intensity. Soon came -another: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -We used to define the genius as the man who interprets his age; now -we know that the genius is the man who, working against his age, creates new -times. -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -Dr. Brandes broke into a lively sally at the Baconians. He spoke -of Shakespeare’s errors in scholarship. These Bacon would surely -have avoided, but of Shakespeare’s great lines Bacon could not possibly -have written one. He ended that section with something like this: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -The Baconian theory was founded by the uneducated, it was developed -by the half-educated, and it is now held solely by idiots. -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -The audience was immensely pleased at his sharp fire. -</p> - -<p> -Dr. Brandes’ epigrams sometimes sound as if he substituted wit -for wisdom. But that is because the epigrams stick and are repeated. -His method is to open with an epigram to catch the attention, to proceed -with a line of sound argument, and at the end to finish superbly -<a id="page-41" class="pagenum" title="41"></a> -with a sentence that contains his conclusions and impales his opponent -at the same time. -</p> - -<p> -With Frank Harris, Dr. Brandes was no more gentle. By parallel -quotation Harris was made to appear ridiculous. Brandes showed -that whatever in his writings is sound has been said before. This was -the end of the lecture: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -Mr. Harris says that it is possible to admire Shakespeare, but that it -is impossible to worship him. Ladies and gentlemen, I do the impossible. -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -Afterwards came a supper of the Scandinavian Society, at which -the guest of honor made a speech that looked brilliant and was lively -even as a piece of pantomime—but it was in Danish. Dr. Brandes was -beaming and unaffectedly cordial with everybody. He smilingly interrupted -one of the pompous addresses in his honor to correct a quotation -from Goethe. He proposed a toast to the charming young lady -who acted as his American manager, and said that the success of his -tour was due entirely to her. Later a consul made a highly complimentary, -but exceedingly tedious, speech. Dr. Brandes fidgeted until -he could stand it no longer, then he quickly got up, took his champagne -glass, ran over to the orator and slapped him on the shoulder, -saying, “You are a very nice man.” The rest was drowned in the toast. -</p> - -<h3 class="section" id="A_NEW_LITERATURE"> -A NEW LITERATURE -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -The other day an illustrator saw a hand-mirror in a publisher’s -office. He put the mirror against a book cover and held it at arm’s -length. “There,” he said, “is the ideal jacket for a novel. Every -woman likes to imagine herself the heroine of the book she is reading.” -But the publisher was wiser. “You are half right,” he answered. “But -she wants to be a Gibson heroine. To see her own face, without flattery, -would startle her into disapproval of the book.” -</p> - -<p> -A recent symposium in <em>The Sun</em> bore the impressive title, <em>The -Sentimentalization of Woman in American Fiction</em>. All the authors -were agreed that realism doesn’t go because of the desire of the reader -to be flattered. If she isn’t, the novel is “unpleasant,” “depressing.” -You may paint your villainess black, but, as your reader will take her -for an enemy, you must see that she is properly punished. But if your -heroine does anything unconventional, it must be of the kind that your -reader enjoys by imagination, though she wouldn’t have the courage -<a id="page-42" class="pagenum" title="42"></a> -to do it. Only you must not make the thrills so strong as to shock the -reader into self-consciousness and self-disapproval. Georg Brandes -said that our novels are written by old maids for old maids. If we -would only put into our literature the same genius and daring that we -put into our skyscrapers! -</p> - -<p> -The thing none of the authors seemed to see is that it is futile to -stop at blaming the readers. Of course the great public is comparatively -stupid. It is everywhere, it always has been and always will be. -What is a leader if he is not someone in advance of the others? And the -essential act for a leader is to lead. He can’t get a following until he -does that. Only a coward stays behind and flatters the crowd because -he is afraid they will not come after him. Perhaps they won’t follow -his particular route. But if he goes on fearlessly he has done the best -that is in him, anyway. The chances are that if he has a sincere conviction -and marches far enough in one direction they will at least -struggle along after a while. They may even follow in hordes. What -we need first is not a more intelligent public, but courageous writers. -</p> - -<p> -Naturally the matter is not simple. Your artist has to be fed and -clothed. If he is creating a new medium—as did Wagner—he even -needs large resources to produce his art. The solution used to be the -wealthy patron. The petty monarch maintained a musician or a -painter to enhance the glory of his court. The noble supported a -writer from personal pride. The monastery afforded a refuge for the -unworldly creator. It would be difficult to find a great artist before the -last century who did not have some such subsidy, unless he had means -of his own. -</p> - -<p> -Since then democracy has permeated the world. Fast presses, -advertising, and royalties have been invented. Now the public is -the writer’s patron. Music is often subsidized, to be sure, and painters -can still sell their canvases to the wealthy. But the earnings of the -writer are in strict proportion to the number of copies of his books that -can be sold. -</p> - -<p> -There is a distinct advantage in this situation. The virtue of -democracy is not the government of the majority, but the opportunity -of the minority. The minority becomes, not a defensive close corporation, -but a body of fighting visionaries. The emphasis is placed on -growth. The eternal impulse of the minority to turn itself into a -majority prevents a static age. The strongest lead, instead of the -highly born. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-43" class="pagenum" title="43"></a> -So it must be with our writers. Difficulty insures heroes. We can -discount at once the truckling commercial writers. But the others must -be deeply sincere and strong in order to exist at all. There is little -room for the dilletante. Let our young people who have something -to say recognize the situation. They must dedicate themselves to a -probable poverty. They must gird their loins and sharpen their -weapons. They must be prepared to wait years, if need be, even for -recognition. Every energy must be devoted to saying as well as may -be the thing that is in them. And so, hoping nothing, fearing nothing, -living simply, supporting themselves as best they may, but always -doing the thing that is worth while for its own sake, they may produce -a literature that has not been equalled since the world began. -</p> - -<p> -Others of us can share in this glorious undertaking. Discerning -critics must sift the true from the false. They must lay aside the twin -snobberies of praising or blaming a work because of its popularity. -They must fight eternally for the sincere. They must point out directions, -they must prize meanings above methods. They must give a -nucleus to the intelligent reading public and constantly augment it. -They must bear sturdy witness to the fact that art is not an amusement -for idle moments, but the consciousness of the race. They must show -its relation to life as well as to living. They must be predisposed in -favor of no work on account of its nationality, school or tendency. -Just as Brandes enlarged the conception of literature by showing it -as a world phenomenon, they must rid it of petty divisions in the realm -of thought. No more should such a statement as “Galsworthy is a -poet rather than a novelist” be allowed to pass as criticism. A novelist -may be a poet or a philosopher or a psychologist or a historian or a -sociologist. Any of these may combine the intrinsic abilities of any or -all of the others. He is greater for doing so. The only test of his work -is its effectiveness. A work of art is an organism, the highest product -of nature, infinitely more real, more beautiful, more potent, than any -flower. Only when we see it as such, and not as a collection of petals -and stamens, or as a member of a species, shall we know it. -</p> - -<p> -The whole problem of creating a literature, as of doing anything -else, is one of direction and power. If we blame someone else for our -deficiencies, if we stand aloof, if we bow to circumstances and are -afraid to pay for what we want, we shall of course do nothing. And -we shall not enjoy ourselves or the world much either. But if we fix -<a id="page-44" class="pagenum" title="44"></a> -on a goal that is worth a life, and set out for it with the joyous spirit -of adventurers, risking everything, enduring everything, sleeping under -the stars, staying hard and keen, we shall command the fates. What -more could we ask of the world? -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="article" id="DOSTOEVSKYS_NOVELS"> -DOSTOEVSKY’S NOVELS -</h2> - -</div> - -<p class="aut"> -MAURICE LAZAR -</p> - -<p class="book"> -<em>The Idiot</em>, <em>The Brothers Karamazov</em>, <em>Crime and Punishment</em>, etc., -translated by Constance Garnett. [The Macmillan Company, New -York.] -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -It’s not a matter of intellect or logic, it’s loving (life) with one’s inside, -with one’s stomach.... -</p> - -<p class="attr"> -—Ivan Karamazov. -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -Chiefly concerned with the fester of civilization, literature, music, -painting, all the modern forms of individual expression are elliptical -in the sense that the old æsthetic values of emotional beauty seem to -have become nullified, or else congealed, in the artist’s direct application -of his instrument to the repudiation of fixed social values or moralities; -to the expansion of life-interests. We today want more than -beauty of external form; we want the beauty of depth! -</p> - -<p> -The true artist is such primarily because of his engrossing appetite -for life, because (as Flaubert said) of the chaos in his soul. And -although Flaubert kept on chiseling words around the lives of men -and women totally devoid of inspirating individuality, his dictum has -been nobly exemplified in the life and writings of Fyodor Dostoevsky, -that great-hearted epileptic Russian of whose psychological powers -Nietzsche admittedly availed himself. -</p> - -<p> -Tolstoy was reported to have said, in conversation with a writer -for <em>Le Temps</em>, “A woman who has never suffered pain is a beast.” -He could have stretched the allegation to include the other sex, if only -by way of illusion to that intense spiritual quality in modern Russian -literature—a literature that has never been (notably) an off-shoot of, -as much as a protest against, the retrogressive structures of its respective -periods. -</p> - -<p> -This spiritual, or psychical, concern with the individual’s adjustment -to the functioning of life has been revealed to highest degree in -<a id="page-45" class="pagenum" title="45"></a> -Dostoevsky’s novels. It is also manifest in the analytical mould assumed -by the creative arts of our time. -</p> - -<p> -While Dostoevsky’s personality is separably bound up with his -work, profitable appreciation of the latter can be considerably amplified -with knowledge of the important facts of his life and the conditions -with which he struggled. I will record the more essential facts -of his life as I have gathered them, and try to explain the causes that -have made for the distinction in his work from that of all other writers. -</p> - -<p> -He was born in a charity-hospital in Moscow, in 1821. His father -was an army-surgeon, his mother a store-keeper’s daughter. I like to -think that he derived his expressive powers, or rather the nebulæ out -of which they subsequently developed, from his mother, perhaps partly -because of my theory that men of acute genius ultimately do transcend -the difference of sex in the quality of their personalities as well as in -that of their work. -</p> - -<p> -Like most imaginative youths who come into contact with fine -art, Dostoevsky was stimulated to literary expression by his study of -classical and contemporaneous European literature. He had lived -twenty-three years when he graduated from a St. Petersburg school of -military engineering. His first novel, <em>Poor Folk</em>, was published three -years later, and served to focus upon him the attention of the critics. -</p> - -<p> -In 1849 Dostoevsky was arrested, with members of a radical organization, -on governmental charges of sedition. The terrible suffering -he sustained while awaiting his execution (he was first confined in -prison for eight months) have been set forth in striking passages of his -novels, <em>The Idiot</em> and <em>Letters from a Dead House</em>. The sentence of -death was finally, and very unexpectedly, commuted to one of imprisonment -in Siberia for four years. At the expiration of this period he -served perforce as a private soldier in the Russian army for three more -years. When he was permitted to return to St. Petersburg he was -accompanied by his first wife, whom he had loved and married while -in exile. -</p> - -<p> -Dostoevsky’s interminable suffering from epileptic seizures (it -has been suggested that these fits originated in a beating administered -to him by his father when Fyodor was a boy); his poverty, and the -constant accumulation of debt; the terrific haste with which he found -it necessary to write his most profound books—all have made it natural -to him, in dwelling upon any physiological aspect of his characters, -<a id="page-46" class="pagenum" title="46"></a> -to be as unconvincing as the eremite attempting an analysis of conditions -of sex life. -</p> - -<p> -In short, Dostoevsky’s nervous disorders pervaded his “sensual -sense” of beauty—of beauty in all its manifestations. At the same -time it must be remarked that this negation of physical responsiveness -surely intensified the acuteness of his mental vision, which was otherwise -refined emotionally by the results of his imprisonment and life-long -hardships. And this also explains why Dostoevsky’s novels are -lacking so singularly in the tingle of the physical contact of his characters; -why the suffering of his men and women move us so profoundly; -why his writings are so uneven, his dialogues of such elemental -power, and his purely descriptive passages so ordinary. -</p> - -<p> -The elemental power in his dialogues is due chiefly to the vigor -of action accredited his characters. In his work is not to be found the -picturesque phrase, the adroitly-turned period, the illuminating metaphor, -the sequence of construction, the tone or shading offered by the -commingling of his objects. Dostoevsky has no style of form, his outlines -are amorphous. It is in his power of transcribing the living voice, -of recording in never-failing reflex emotionalism the lives and deeds -of his startling figures that he is supreme. -</p> - -<p> -If you have read one of his books you know much of what he -has to say. His other works are repetitions, mainly. For Dostoevsky -does not attempt to paint character, and rarely does he stop to show the -subtly-reacting influence of environment upon his men and women. -Always he is concerned with the idea of the individual’s personal adjustments -to life. Each book of his throbs with the discordant elements -that clash over the establishment of this idea; and always its -conclusions are recognized. That is why I regard Dostoevsky as an -optimist. And his emphasis on humanity’s spiritual conception of -life, no matter what the cost, grew more and more pronounced in his -later works. -</p> - -<p> -His faith in human beings is expressed in one set theme, which -can be conveniently resolved into terms of comparison: on one hand -the individual’s evasion of life’s realities by the exercise of material -(and therefore fictitious) values; and on the other hand, the frank -acceptance of life’s realities for the attainment of a proportionate spiritual -balance. -</p> - -<p> -In <em>Crime and Punishment</em>, Dr. Raskolnikov is in doubt as to the -<a id="page-47" class="pagenum" title="47"></a> -ultimate worth of this attainment, until he expiates his crime in killing -the old moneylender (I forget her name) not by confessing,—Dostoevsky -is too fine a realist for that,—but by obtaining personal solace -from the regenerating qualities of his resignation. And it is characteristic -of our writer’s method that Raskolnikov is assisted toward this -state of resignation by his love, Sonia, the prostitute, whose regard -for the murderer is based upon the confirmation evidenced in him of -the faith that has been stimulated in herself. -</p> - -<p> -Similar in thesis, though expressed in terms of minor differences, -is Dostoevsky’s last and unquestionably finest work, <em>The Brothers -Karamazov</em>. It is incomplete, actually one-third as long as he had intended -it to be. He died before he could finish the book. Nevertheless -it is compactly-formed material as the work now stands, and superior -to his other novels not because his outlines are more constrained, -his movement more co-ordinate, and the actual writing of a more intensive -quality, but because here he defines his own conception of spiritual -beauty in a distinctive fashion not to be found in his other books. -</p> - -<p> -He offers us the history of a family,—and what a family! Each -figure in this domestic (?) group embodies conflicting phases of his -great idea. Fyodor Karamazov, the father, is a sensualist of the lowest -type imaginable. His three sons are Dmitri, Ivan, and Alyosha. -There is also another (illegitimate) son, Smerdyakov, an epileptic. -</p> - -<p> -Dmitri Karamazov inherits his father’s passion for wine, women, -and song, but the son’s pursuit of this tame and conventional item is -tempered by frequent lapses, by periods of misgiving. The second son -is a materialist and a cynic. He changes his mind after a severe illness, -and his materialistic beliefs are all but supplanted by intense spiritual -curiosity. The third and youngest son is an idealist, lovable and loving. -Here again we have Dostoevsky’s discordant elements conveyed -in terms of human characterizations. The plot of the story is as formless -as life itself, for it is with life, not with plots, that Dostoevsky deals. -</p> - -<p> -Dmitri’s hatred of his father is intensified by the rivalry that -exists between the two in their common pursuit of Grushenka’s affections. -Grushenka is a woman of the demi-monde. The author, I -think, tried to draw her in lines that would reveal a physical zest of -life, as evidenced, for example, in Tolstoy’s <em>Anna Karenina</em>. His failure -to make Grushenka a convincing individual, as an individual, is -typical, for the reasons I have already advanced. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-48" class="pagenum" title="48"></a> -Development of the story shows how Dmitri’s repeatedly avowed -determination to kill his father bears fruit. The elder Karamazov is -found dead one night, with his skull crushed. Dmitri is imprisoned. -And the rest of the book, which is devoted to Dmitri’s trial, the moral -regeneration of Ivan, and the urge of life in Alyosha, approaches psychological -heights (or depths) that have not been surpassed to this day. -Small wonder that Nietzsche referred so affectionately to the “giant -spirit.” -</p> - -<p> -I have made reference to Dostoevsky’s “optimism.” A better -word for it is faith—faith of a new high order. He is the most cheerful, -sunlight-giving writer in Russian literature. “The essence of religious -feeling,” says Prince Myshkin in <em>The Idiot</em>, “does not come -under any sort of reasoning or atheism, and has nothing to do with -any crimes or misdemeanors.” -</p> - -<p> -Prince Myshkin is the central figure of the novel; he is the “idiot,” -and everybody abuses him. He is insulted and beaten, and robbed and -deceived and loved. He is the most singular figure in literature—he is -Dostoevsky himself. -</p> - -<p> -But he is not an idiot in any sense. He is so profoundly simple -and wise, and has such great faith in human beings, that he is mistaken -by the men and women of ordinary passions as a fool. While he can -be readily toyed with by women—a significant phase of the writer’s -own attitude toward the sex—Prince Myshkin is regarded by them -from a common basis of understanding. For them he holds no quality -of sex. “Perhaps you don’t know that, owing to my illness,” he says -(he too is an epileptic), “I know nothing of women.” -</p> - -<p> -It is in <em>The Idiot</em> that Dostoevsky’s women are at least life-like. -The Epanchin sisters, especially the youngest, Aglaia, are not “types” -in the usual sense, but preconceived studies. The pages devoted to -Aglaia’s love affair with Prince Myshkin are of the happiest in the -book. -</p> - -<p> -Besides the books I have already mentioned, the more important -works are <em>The Possessed</em>, in which national politics play a large part; -<em>Poor Folk</em>, the story of a poor clerk’s love for a poor woman who -eventually turns from him; and <em>Letters from a Dead House</em>. This last -is a book of personal experiences, and reveals Dostoevsky’s relations -with the criminals with whom he was imprisoned in Siberia. The mental -temper of men who disregard and break the common and social -<a id="page-49" class="pagenum" title="49"></a> -laws, is set forth with the passionate curiosity that lies behind all his -probings of the human soul. I am strongly tempted to offer quotations; -to show, in this passage or that, how deeply Dostoevsky looked into the -most extreme boundaries of human sensibilities; but on the whole -extracts from his writings would do more harm than good. His work -is so disconnected, though not in any sense detached, that extracts -could not serve here to indicate the amazing clarity of his vision. -</p> - -<p> -His books arouse a feeling of wonder that there can be so many -things in our own individual emotions with which we never before -came into contact. He moves us so profoundly because he tears his -men and women out of their morally-bound lives and makes them -confront stupendous questions—the questions of life. He plies detail -upon detail of human misery until one feels that the whole world is -reeling from him—then grows aware of the sweet white glow of Dostoevsky’s -faith, and feels that life can hold no terrors—that he is above -the petty miseries of human strife! That is why I say Dostoevsky’s -optimism is of the new high order. -</p> - -<p> -Dostoevsky purges one’s mind. He makes you conscious of the -beauty of a soul. -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="article" id="BOOK_DISCUSSION"> -BOOK DISCUSSION -</h2> - -</div> - -<h3 class="section" id="AN_UNREELING_REALIST"> -AN UNREELING REALIST -</h3> - -<p class="book"> -<em>The Titan</em>, by Theodore Dreiser -[John Lane Company, New York] -</p> - -<p class="first"> -<span class="firstchar">T</span><span class="postfirstchar">heodore</span> Dreiser possesses none of the standard qualifications -for the art of fiction writing. He is not imaginative but -inventive; he is not clever but clear; he is not excited but calm. Whatever -the flaws in his considerable body of work no fair-minded reader -may say that it is made to catch popular applause. Its tremendous -distinction is sincerity. Another characteristic which his novels exhibit -<a id="page-50" class="pagenum" title="50"></a> -is resolute purpose. Dreiser is aiming at something, and in <em>The -Titan</em>, the second book in an unfinished trilogy, he takes a long if -wobbly step toward it. Previously to the publishing of this volume -he had not even hinted at what he intended to work out. One thing -was certain: he was not a trifler; he was not trying to write best -sellers; literary success was not in his mind. He had set out seriously -and indefatigably to write, not so much what he felt and thought, -as what he saw. Some day he would try to get at the realities that lay -back of their representations. He would probably undertake to reveal -the soul of the American nation. He would pass through the -growth stages of a nation, and achieve some kind of spiritual national -life. In the last two pages of <em>The Titan</em> this guess at his purpose -receives appreciable encouragement. Moreover, it is made evident -for the first time, in these concluding paragraphs, that Dreiser’s -prosaic realism springs not only from a vague, deep idealism but a -large, hidden spirituality. For at the core of him Dreiser is a profoundly -religious person. -</p> - -<p> -Neither his style nor his stuff is far above the dead level of -mediocrity; in fact, Dreiser’s rhetoric is often inexcusably atrocious—intentionally -crude, one is tempted to assert. Obviously he is not -interested in style; he is conscious of something bigger than that revealing -itself in a huge, ugly, unfinished moving picture—a net result -symbolical of a young, raw, riotous, unsynthesized national life. -One is therefore tempted to say that Dreiser, more than any other -author, is the personification of America. He represents the composite -personality of Uncle Sam. -</p> - -<p> -After reading <em>The Financier</em> and running far into the interminable -pages of <em>The Titan</em> I felt that in the absence of cameras, kodaks, -Baedekers, and historians Dreiser would be worth while. His endless -reels of pictorial facts did not impress me as possessing sufficient -animation successfully to compete with these odd rivals, but I admired -his consistent sincerity and simplicity and felt that something -important was promised by the mere unfinishedness of his pictures. -I was sure that he did not write as one inspired, and certainly not as -one fired. And after finishing <em>The Titan</em> I felt that here was a work -having the aspects of a seriously performed duty, exacted by fidelity -to some personal theory of industrial change. I could not imagine -the author happy as an artist is happy in his creative work; he was -<a id="page-51" class="pagenum" title="51"></a> -too conscious of service to a cause. But in the last paragraph I discovered -a big, personal note which introduced an attitude that extends -beyond the borders of materialism. It presented another -Dreiser—an author who was much more than a cinematograph, -snapping superficial impressions of a vast panorama. Two years ago -I should not have attributed the following words to Theodore Dreiser: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -In a mulch of darkness is bedded the roots of endless sorrows—and of -endless joys. Canst thou fix thine eye on the morning? Be glad. And if -in the ultimate it blind thee, be glad also! Thou hast lived. -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -After laboring through arid deserts of description, this memorable -passage, fraught with recognition, satisfaction, challenge, hope, -and promise, stands out as an oasis. -</p> - -<p> -<em>The Titan</em>, by virtue of its bold, graphic strokes, loses its identity -as a tree, with sharply defined individual characters, and represents -the forest. It is more like a jungle, and the jungle is our national -life, into which the morning sun inevitably will shine. -</p> - -<p class="sign"> -—DeWitt C. Wing. -</p> - -<h3 class="section" id="THE_REVOLT_OF_THE_ONCE_BORN"> -THE REVOLT OF THE “ONCE BORN” -</h3> - -<p class="book"> -<em>Challenge</em>, by Louis Untermeyer. -[The Century Company, New York] -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -There has recently appeared a volume of verse by Louis Untermeyer -which is an excellent example of the determinedly young -and eupeptic philosophy so prevalent today—the philosophy of revolt. -The book is named <em>Challenge</em> and as challenge it must be considered. -To be sure it is rhymed, but the fact seems quite incidental. -To rhyme a polemic does not make it poetry, and one feels sure that -Mr. Untermeyer is more proud of the spiritual attitude than of the -artistry. -</p> - -<p> -The book is a revolt, but a careful perusal of its pages fails to -reveal against what it revolts. At first glance one might think it -socialistic, but it is not clearly enough visualized for that. Socialism -has at least found the enemy. Mr. Untermeyer manfully girds on -his armor and sets forth to war, shouting his challenge lustily the -while. And why, after all, be particular about having an actual enemy? -Life, with a capital L, can do duty for that, or “the scornful -<a id="page-52" class="pagenum" title="52"></a> -and untroubled skies,” or the “cold complacency of earth.” The revolt -is the point, and Mr. Untermeyer drives it home with all the -phrases of frozen impetuosity to be discovered in a very useful vocabulary. -“Athletic courage,” “eager night,” “Life’s lusty banner,” -“impetuous winds,” “raging mirth,” etc., are scattered carefully -through the pages. But unfortunately, virility—with all due respect -to the reviewer who mentioned these poems in the June number of -The Little Review—has a way of oozing out of such phrases, leaving -them empty of everything save a painful determination to be manly at -all costs. -</p> - -<p> -But though Mr. Untermeyer is not quite clear on some subjects -he is very clear on others. Several things seem to have struck him -with peculiar force—that city streets are dirty, for instance; that strife -is tonic for young blood; and that it is difficult for the human soul -to conceive of complete annihilation. These things he proclaims passionately -and challenges the world to disprove them. A little couplet -from Kipling’s <em>Jungle Book</em> suggests itself rather maliciously as the -probable attitude of the world towards this outbreak: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> - <div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">“There is none like to me!” says the Cub in the pride of his earliest kill;</p> - <p class="verse">But the Jungle is large and the Cub he is small. Let him think and be still.</p> - </div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -Seriously, however, Mr. Untermeyer’s attitude is what William -James calls the attitude of the “once born.” One feels that he thinks -in one dimension, that he does not see around his subject, nor hear -the overtones which surround every happening for a man of deep intellect. -The revolt is Walt Whitman’s magnificent revolt, which is -overpowering in a giant, cropping out in a man of very ordinary -stature, where it sits a little ridiculously. -</p> - -<p> -As philosophy much of this, printed on a neat little card, would -do splendidly to hang in a business office for the encouragement of -the employees. As poetry it is negligible. Mr. Untermeyer lacks -entirely the one gift which could redeem it—the gift of poignancy. -This lack is particularly striking in the middle section, called <em>Interludes</em>, -in which he pauses for a little from revolt. These are love songs -and lyrics, a field in which anything not perfect is no longer acceptable. -And Mr. Untermeyer’s are not perfect. His sense of rhythm -is extremely primitive and his lyrics are full of words. Only now and -then, when he forgets for a moment how manly he is, does he say -<a id="page-53" class="pagenum" title="53"></a> -anything simply enough to strike home. These lines, for instance, -from <em>Irony</em> stick: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> - <div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">There is no kind of death to kill</p> - <p class="verse">the sands that lie so meek and still ...</p> - <p class="verse">But man is great and strong and wise—</p> - <p class="verse7">And so he dies.</p> - </div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -But in the main it is unfortunate that Mr. Untermeyer, who -writes so much and so readably on the subject of poetry, should put -out so pretentious and undeveloped a volume as this is. It is inevitable -that it should affect his standing as a critic, and there seems little -doubt that his work in that field is really valuable to the cause of poetry -in America today. -</p> - -<p class="sign"> -—Eunice Tietjens. -</p> - -<h3 class="section" id="VERLAINE_AND_TOLSTOY"> -TWO BIOGRAPHIES: VERLAINE -AND TOLSTOY -</h3> - -<p class="book"> -<em>Paul Verlaine</em>, by Wilfred Thorley; <em>Tolstoy: His Life and Writings</em>, -by Edward Garnett. [Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston.] -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -When autumn is in your heart—not that of the golden delirium of -exotic agony, but bleak weeping autumn of crucifixion and dead -leaves—what dirge, what note haunts you in accompaniment to your -grief? Maddening darts from Tchaikowsky’s <em>Pathétique</em>, or <em>Weltschmerz</em>-moans -from Beethoven’s <em>Marchia Funebre</em>, or an unuttered -accord known only to your soul? Or, if you are a brother of mine, do -your lips soundlessly mutter this? -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> - <div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Les sanglots longs</p> - <p class="verse">Des violons</p> - <p class="verse2">De l’automne</p> - <p class="verse">Blessent mon coeur</p> - <p class="verse">D’une langueur</p> - <p class="verse2">Monotone.</p> - </div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -Don’t you hear the resonance of the tolling bells in Chopin’s -<em>Funeral March</em>? Your sorrow grows crescendo as you proceed, recalling -Massenet’s <em>Elégie</em>: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> - <div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> -<a id="page-54" class="pagenum" title="54"></a> - <p class="verse">Tout suffocant</p> - <p class="verse">Et blême, quand</p> - <p class="verse2">Sonne l’heure,</p> - <p class="verse">Je me souviens</p> - <p class="verse">Des jours anciens</p> - <p class="verse2">Et je pleure;</p> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse">Et je m’en vais</p> - <p class="verse">Au vent mauvais</p> - <p class="verse2">Qui m’emporte</p> - <p class="verse">Deçà, delà</p> - <p class="verse">Pareil à la</p> - <p class="verse2">Feuille morte.</p> - </div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -When I think of Paul Verlaine I invariably recall Oscar Wilde, -despite or because of the abysmal dissimilarity of the two personalities. -The sincere, ingenuous, all-loving child Paul, and the thoroughly artificial, -paradoxical Oscar; the typical Bohemian with the criminal-face -like that of Dostoevsky, and the salon-idol, the refined and gorgeous -bearer of the sun-flower. Fate had somewhat reconciled the two contrasts. -Both had been “sinners,” both were condemned by society and -imprisoned, both had “repented”—one in <em>De Profundis</em> where the -haughty humility of the self-enamored artist stirs us with its artificial -beauty; the other in the primitive-Christian—nay, Catholic—<em>Sagesse</em>: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> - <div class="poem-container"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <p class="verse"><em>Mon Dieu m’a dit: Mon fils, il faut m’aimer ....</em></p> - </div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -Some months ago in reviewing Edmond Lepelletier’s voluminous -book, (<em>Paul Verlaine: His Life and Work</em>) I remarked that the Poet of -Absinthe and Violets was still awaiting his Boswell. My view has not -changed after reading Wilfrid Thorley’s monograph on Verlaine; but -my wish for an adequate biography of the signer of <em>Romances sans -Paroles</em> has now become counterbalanced by an earnest prayer that the -memory of the poet may be saved from such indelicate manipulators -as Mr. Thorley. Why this respectable Englishman should have attempted -to treat the life of the most wayward French poet since Villon -can be explained by no other reason than that it was a case of “made to -order.” When a Velasquez is pierced by a fanatical suffragette the -whole civilized world is roused to indignation; but when an honest -philistine unceremoniously puffs his cheap smoke into the face of a -dead poet there is not a single protest against that sort of vandalism. -Fear of the editor’s blue pencil restrains me from putting my attitude -more outspokenly. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-55" class="pagenum" title="55"></a> -A conscientious compilator would have found sufficient material -for an unpretentious sketch of the life of Verlaine and for an appreciation -of his works. Lepelletier gives an amazing mass of facts and -personal reminiscences (you may ignore his naive interpretations); -Arthur Symons in <em>The Symbolist Movement in Literature</em> has a masterpiece -essay on Verlaine, not to mention a number of other French -and English writers who have given us glimpses of the imperceptible -image of the poet—writers who <em>knew what they were taking about</em>. -Mr. Thorley has made use of various sources, but in a peculiar way. -He fished out the anecdotal scraps, the piquant details, the filthy hints, -and patched up a caricature-portrait of a lewd, perverse “undesirable,” -whose poetry (I quote reluctantly) “was born solely of the genitals,” -whose “life is but the trite old story of the emotions developed at the -expense of domestic peace and civic order; of art for art’s sake made -to condone the manner of its begetting, and the trend of its appeal; -of the hushed acquiescence in emotion as a sacred thing, whatever the -quality of the impulse from which it ripens or the level of ideas on -which it feeds.” Out of the ninety-odd pages of stuff seventy-nine are -devoted to “biography” sufficiently spicy to make any toothless old -rake chuckle; the rest is given over to “criticism”—a mutilated -melange of some of the views of Symons, George Moore, and others, -flavored with the compilator’s own commonplaces. I quote from the -closing lines: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -A specious and high-sounding phrase has been invented to excuse the -perversities of imaginative genius by speaking of its achievement as a “conquest -of new realms for the spirit.” But the worth of such acquisitions depends -on the nature of the territory, and if it be, morally, a malarial swamp -conducive only to a human type found subversive in our normal world, it will -always appear to the English mind that we shall do well to forego the new -kingdom and to withhold our homage from its discoverer.... That -“nice is nasty, nasty nice,” and the creative artist the sole arbiter, must be -hotly opposed so long as a social conscience survives. -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -And this was written in Anno Domini 1914! -</p> - -<p> -A sense of fairness urges me to rehabilitate the “English mind” -by recalling a passage from Mr. Thorley’s compatriot, Arthur Symons: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -The artist, it cannot be too clearly understood, has no more part in society -than a monk in domestic life: he cannot be judged by its rules, he can -be neither praised nor blamed for his acceptance or rejection of its conventions. -Social rules are made by normal people for normal people, and the -man of genius is fundamentally abnormal. -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -<a id="page-56" class="pagenum" title="56"></a> -It is high time that this axiom became a truism and that we cease -to measure the artist with the yard-stick of conventional morality. -“L’art, mes enfants, c’est d’être absolument soi-même,” sang Verlaine, -and somewhere else he reveals a bit of that self with his usual sincerity: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -I believe, and I sin in thought as in action; I believe, and I repent in -thought, if no more. Or again, I believe, and I am a good Christian at this -moment; I believe, and I am a bad Christian the instant after. The remembrance, -the hope, the invocation of a sin delights me, with or without remorse, -sometimes under the very form of sin, and hedged with all its natural consequences.... -This delight ... it pleases us to put to paper -and publish more or less well expressed: we consign it, in short, into literary -form, forgetting all religious ideas, or not letting one of them escape us. Can -any one in good faith condemn us as poets? A hundred times no. -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -“And, indeed, I should echo, a hundred times no!” exclaims the -Englishman, Arthur Symons. -</p> - -<p> -I cannot resist the temptation of quoting the happiest definition -of Verlaine’s personality written by Charles Morice back in 1888: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -The soul of an immortal child, that is the soul of Verlaine, with all the -privileges and all the perils of so being: with the sudden despair so easily distracted, -the vivid gaieties without a cause, the excessive suspicions and the -excessive confidences, the whims so easily outwearied, the deaf and blind infatuations, -with, especially, the unceasing renewal of impressions in the incorruptible -integrity of personal vision and sensation. Years, influences, teachings, -may pass over a temperament such as this, may irritate it, may fatigue -it; transform it, never—never so much as to alter that particular unity which -consists in a dualism, in the division of forces between the longing after what -is evil and the adoration of what is good; or rather, in the antagonism of spirit -and flesh.... -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -I have not mentioned the most striking “feature” of Mr. Thorley’s -... production—the appendix. Six of Verlaine’s poems are -translated by him for the benefit of those who do not understand -French “intimately.” “To offer them to other readers, would, of -course, be an impertinence,” he modestly admits. Impertinence is not -the word for that outrage. I have experienced physical pain at the -sight of the Hunnish sacrilege committed by this well-wishing moralist. -The poet, for whom “De la musique avant toute chose; De la musique -encore et toujours!” who had pleaded, “Car nous voulons la nuance -encore, -Pas la <a id="corr-32"></a>couleur, rien que la nuance!” has been mercilessly crucified -in the form of quasi-Tennysonian, taffy-like verses. One recalls -with gratitude the careful albeit pale translations of Gertrude Hall, who -at least had the sense of æsthetic propriety in endeavoring to remain -true to the master’s meter and rhythm. -</p> - -<p class="tb"> - -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -<a id="page-57" class="pagenum" title="57"></a> -From Tolstoy’s diary in 1855: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -... a great, a stupendous idea, to the realization of which I feel -myself capable of devoting all my life. The idea is the foundation of a new -religion corresponding to the development of mankind—<em>the religion of Jesus, -but purified from dogma and mysticism; a practical religion, not promising bliss in future, -but giving happiness on earth</em>.... To work consciously -for <em>the union on earth</em> by religion.... -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -From a letter to the poet Fet in 1898: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -I am so different to things of this life that life becomes uninteresting.... -I hope you will love me though I be black. -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -From the fragment <em>There are no guilty people</em>: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -There was a time when I tried to change my position which was not in -harmony with my conscience, but the conditions created by the past, by my -family and its claims upon me, were so complicated that I did not know how -to free myself. I had not the strength. Now that I am over eighty and have -become feeble I have given up trying to free myself. Strange to say, as my -feebleness increases I realize more and more strongly the wrongfulness of my -position, and it grows more and more intolerable to me. -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -On his death-bed at the railroad station Astapovo, November, -1910: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -I am tired of this world of men. -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -Tolstoy’s failure was inevitable, for he had approached life with -the uncompromising logic of a child or a god. For fifty years he -preached his religion, and during all that time he remained splendidly -inconsistent. He opposed private property and proceeded to live on -his estate; he had denounced marriage and was a father to thirteen -children. Notwithstanding his deadly hatred for the Russian government, -he bitterly denounced the liberals and the revolutionists for their -“un-Christian” ways of fighting the enemy; but his greatest contradiction, -to the joy of the intellectual world, consisted in the victory of -the artist over the moralist as manifested in his numerous novels and -plays. -</p> - -<p> -The work of Edward Garnett is conscientious and is, to my knowledge, -the best short biography of Tolstoy. It was a happy idea to -discard the traditional portrait and use a reproduction of Kramskoy’s -painting, which dates back to the sixties, if I am not mistaken. It is -when looking at this portrait, a great piece of art in itself, that we -envisage the author of <em>War and Peace</em>. A few words from the description -of Tolstoy’s face by P. A. Terzeyeonvo: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -His face was a true peasant’s face: simple, rustic, with a broad nose, a -weather-beaten skin, and thick overhanging brows, from beneath which small, -keen, grey eyes peered sharply forth.... One instantly divines in Tolstoy -<a id="page-58" class="pagenum" title="58"></a> -a man of the highest society—with polished, unconstrained manners. -</p> - -<p> -... On the one hand an insatiable thirst for power over people, and -on the other an unconquerable ardor for inward purity and the sweetness of -meekness.... -</p> - -<p> -In this chain of seething, imperious instincts linked with delicate spiritual -organization lies the profound tragicness of Tolstoy’s personality. -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -Mr. Garnett succeeds in giving the quintessence of Tolstoy’s -works and teachings in less than a hundred pages. Like most of the -Russian’s eulogistic biographers, Mr. Garnett has not escaped the fallacy -of exaggerating the moral power that Tolstoy exercised over the -government. To say that the Czar and his ministers “dared not touch” -the outspoken anarchist and heretic “out of dread of Europe—nay, of -Russia,” is to reveal one’s ignorance of the brazen defiance displayed -by Muscovite autocrats in regard to public opinion. As the Germans -put it: “Herr Kossack, schämen Sie sich!” Tolstoy, as a matter of -fact, had helped to check the revolutionary spirit of his compatriots in -a greater degree than the tyrannic persecutions of Von-Plehve. Had -he not appealed time and again to embrace his doctrine of Non-Resistance? -Had he not denounced the revolutionists as violent prototypes -of their hangers? Could the government see any danger in a man who -wrote in <em>The Times</em> during the revolution of 1905: “To free oneself -from the government it is only necessary to abstain from participating -in it and supporting it. Our consciousness of the law of God demands -from us only one thing: moral self-perfection, i. e., the liberation of -oneself from all those weaknesses and vices which make one the slave -of governments and the participation in their crimes”? Another tragic -contradiction of the restless soul of the anarchist who, despite himself, -renders aid to the despots. -</p> - -<p class="sign"> -—Alexander S. Kaun. -</p> - -<h3 class="section" id="CONRADS_QUOTE"> -INTROSPECTION -</h3> - -<p class="book"> -<em>Chance</em>, by Joseph Conrad. -[Doubleday, Page & Company, New York.] -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -Did you ever take supper in the apartments of a dear bachelor -friend, on a night when the wind howled outside the window, and the -rain beat against the pane? And after the satisfying meal, whose -<a id="page-59" class="pagenum" title="59"></a> -perfect appointment made you forget all save the luxury of living, -did you retire to the spacious living room, and after accepting an -aromatic Havana, stretch your feet out to the crackling log fire, and -as the smoke from your cigar crawled upward listen to the philosophical -analyses of your cultured host on that marvelously simple and -profoundly complex servant and master of man, the human mind? -Of such an evening is the atmosphere of <em>Chance</em>. Not academically -deep, but deep from the standpoint of a full life and an active intelligence. -</p> - -<p> -Everyone loves to analyze his fellow creatures. Some do it well, -some do it badly, but we all do it. Conrad does it masterfully. There -doesn’t seem to be a type which holds a mystery for him. The village -pillar; the frail, ill-fated maid; the buxsom housewife; the silent -captain ashore and afloat; the opinionated, retired old gentleman; -the cynical, good-natured man of thirty-five; the flat, tintless -fraud. Into the mental realm of all these he makes expeditions long -and short. His characters live. They mingle good and bad, and, as -strong characters should, weave for themselves a charming story of -love, adventure, trial, and victory, never trite, and always surprising. -It is a tale built of character studies and garnished with odd conjective -philosophy. -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -Our new acquaintance paused, then added meditatively: -</p> - -<p> -“Queer man. As if it made any difference. Queer man.” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s certainly unwise to admit any sort of responsibility for our actions, -whose consequences we are never able to foresee,” remarked Marlow by way -of assent. -</p> - -<p> -“The consequence of his action was that I got a ship,” said the other. -“That could not do much harm,” he added with a laugh which argued a -probably unconscious contempt of general ideas. -</p> - -<p> -But Marlow was not put off. He was patient and reflective. He had -been at sea many years and I verily believe he liked sea-life because upon -the whole it is favourable to reflection. I am speaking of the now nearly -vanished sea-life under sail. To those who may be surprised at the statement -I will point out that this life secured for the mind of him who embraced -it the inestimable advantages of solitude and silence. Marlow had the habit -of pursuing general ideas in a peculiar manner, between jest and earnest. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I wouldn’t suggest,” he said, “that your namesake, Mr. Powell, -the Shipping Master, had done you much harm. Such was hardly his intention. -And even if it had been he would not have had the power. He was but -a man, and the incapacity to achieve anything distinctly good or evil is inherent -in our earthly condition. Mediocrity is our mark. And perhaps it’s just as -well, since, for the most part, we cannot be certain of the effect of our -actions.” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know about the effect,” the other stood up to Marlow manfully. -<a id="page-60" class="pagenum" title="60"></a> -“What effect did you expect anyhow? I tell you he did something -uncommonly kind.” -</p> - -<p> -“He did what he could,” Marlow retorted gently, “and on his own showing -that was not a very great deal. I cannot help thinking that there was -some malice in the way he seized the opportunity to serve you. He managed -to make you uncomfortable. You wanted to go to sea, but he jumped -on the chance of accommodating your desire with a vengeance. I am inclined -to think your cheek alarmed him. And this was an excellent occasion -to suppress you altogether. For if you accepted he was relieved of you with -every appearance of humanity, and if you made objections (after requesting -his assistance, mind you) it was open to him to drop you as a sort of impostor. -You might have had to decline that berth for some very valid -reason. From sheer necessity, perhaps. The notice was too uncommonly -short. But under the circumstances you’d have covered yourself with ignominy.” -</p> - -<p> -Our new friend knocked the ashes out of his pipe. -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -There is something about Conrad which gives a warm feeling -about the heart. A certain fineness of humor, a certain fullness of -sympathy. He never mixes his similes; they always take the same -tone and the same color. For instance: -</p> - -<div class="excerpt"> -<p class="noindent"> -I took a piece of cake and went out to bribe the Fyne dog into some -sort of self-control. His sharp, comical yapping was unbearable, like stabs -through one’s brain, and Fyne’s deeply modulated remonstrances abashed -the vivacious animal no more than the deep, patient murmur of the sea abashes -a nigger minstrel on a popular beach. Fyne was beginning to swear at him -in low, sepulchral tones when I appeared. The dog became at once wildly -demonstrative, half-strangling himself in his collar, his eyes and tongue hanging -out in the excess of his uncomprehensible affection for me. This was -before he caught sight of the cake in my hand. A series of vertical springs -high up in the air followed, and then, when he got the cake, he instantly -lost his interest in everything else. -</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent"> -No, this illustration is not of Conrad’s finest, but in a homely -way it illustrates a deep sympathy with life, which this strong worker -and writer gives in such bountiful measure in all his literature; and, -to quote an eminent writer, “Literature and Conrad are interchangeable -terms.” -</p> - -<p class="sign"> -—Henry Blackman Sell. -</p> - -<h3 class="section" id="CLARKS_FIELD"> -AN AMERICAN NOVEL -</h3> - -<p class="book"> -<em>Clark’s Field</em>, by Robert Herrick. -[Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston.] -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -It was but the other day that Mr. Herrick told us what he thought -about the American novel. Those who read the trenchant article -found not only a criticism of our machine-like fictionists and their -half-baked methods, but also a sturdy conviction that the day was -surely approaching when we should demand and receive a truer and -<a id="page-61" class="pagenum" title="61"></a> -more vital presentation of our national life in our literature. And if -Mr. Herrick, long since tagged an apostate to our national creed of -turgid optimism, believes this, we can safely trust to his cool vision and -be glad that the tide has turned. The rich human material lies ready -at hand, and the audience is fast growing intelligent and discriminating. -As yet, however, “we await the writer or writers keen enough -to perceive the opportunity, powerful enough to interest the public in -what it has been unwilling to heed, and of course endowed with sufficient -insight to comprehend our big new world.” -</p> - -<p> -Whatever may be said for our other novelists, surely not one of -them can exhibit a mingling of the powers of insight and artistry equal -to that of Robert Herrick. His work from the beginning has been an -honest and incisive attempt to interpret our life in its peculiar and -universal aspects, in spite of the clamor of the public at his tearing -away of the veils of sentimentality and prudery. The errors into -which he fell were due to the ardor of his spiritual vision, which drove -him into an impassioned taking of sides. He has emerged from that -stage into what his critics call his “old manner,” a more objective -treatment of his material. But in the process of change something -was lost—the element of flaming intensity which gave the reader a -similar capacity to feel. In this latest performance, as well as in <em>One -Woman’s Life</em>, he is always cool, clear-sighted, and admirably efficient -in the task he sets himself; but never passionate. On the contrary, -despite the pervading atmosphere of earnestness, he often assumes a -playful satiric tone, mordant but not bitter,—a method well suited to -his matter and purpose. -</p> - -<p> -<em>Clark’s Field</em> tells the story of the influence of property upon the -human beings who own it and hope to reap gold from its increasing -value. All that is left of the great Clark farm is a fifty-acre field in a -growing New England town, bequeathed jointly to the two brothers, -Edward and Samuel, the former of whom has emigrated to the West -and wholly disappeared from the ken of his relatives. So at first the -tale is of the baleful influence of expectation delayed again and again: -in the case of Samuel who cannot sell the land because of his brother’s -half-interest, and who in consequence sinks into a sodden inertia; in -his son’s disintegration into a lazy and drunken “Vet”; in his sister -Addie’s sordid and pathetic sally into life resulting in the birth of another -human being destined to taste of the fruit of their tree and to find -it, one day, very bitter. -</p> - -<p> -<a id="page-62" class="pagenum" title="62"></a> -The greater portion of the novel, then, deals with the influence of -the realized wealth upon the unformed, colorless little girl, Adelle, the -last of the Clarks. It is a masterly piece of work—the gradual development -of the pale rooming-house drudge into the silly and insolent -woman of fashion, and slowly but certainly into a human being with a -soul. Less promising stuff for a heroine neither fate nor Mr. Herrick -could have chosen; the latter delights in ample admissions throughout -the book of Adelle’s lack of beauty, brains, and charm. Yet he is always -sufficiently temperate to escape the danger of caricature. Adelle is a -convincing figure. The slow dawning upon her consciousness of the -power of money, her “magic lamp” which she need only rub to gratify -any desire, is followed by swift and constant use of the new weapon. -It brings her a fresh assurance, a few scatter-brained friends, some -stylish clothes, and, at length, a callow youth for a husband. It never -brings her contact with a real person or friendship with a stimulating -individual; nor can it save her from the failure of her marriage, nor -compensate her for the death of her little boy. -</p> - -<p> -Adelle’s story, then, turns out to be what we least expected it,—a -hopeful one. It leaves us with almost a sense of security, for is she -not one of those who can “derive good from her mistakes,” and therefore -“the safest sort of human being to raise in this garden plot of -souls”? And although we are still saddled with “that absurd code of -inheritance and property rights that the Anglo-Saxon peoples have -preserved from their ancient tribal days in the gloomy forests of -the lower Rhine,” the situation is not without hope, since it has yielded -a man of the judge’s type, in whom the beauty of a past idealism is -coupled with the freshness of a new vision of responsibility. -</p> - -<p> -To hark back to the recent article in <em>The Yale Review</em>, we believe -that Mr. Herrick himself has given us an American novel—thoroughly -American in situation, character, treatment, and even in philosophy. -We, as a people, are beginning to suspect our boastful optimism -as we become aware of the sordidness beneath the fair exterior of our -glorious civilization. And in accordance with the western temperament, -the awareness of wrong leads not to bitter cynicism but to sturdy -efforts toward amelioration. Such, then, is the spirit of <em>Clark’s Field</em>—a -hopefulness in the power of courage, and labor, and a growing -sense of social responsibility to move mounds that seem to have become -immovable mountains through a tenacious fostering of tradition. -</p> - -<p class="sign"> -—Marguerite Swawite. -</p> - -<h3 class="section" id="THE_SAVAGE_PAINTERS"> -<a id="page-63" class="pagenum" title="63"></a> -THE “SAVAGE” PAINTERS -</h3> - -<p class="book"> -<em>Cubists and Post Impressionism</em>, by Arthur Jerome Eddy. -[A. C. McClurg and Company, Chicago.] -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -An attempt to explain the new schools in art “in plain, every-day -terms.” An earnest appeal for tolerance in regard to seemingly perversive -forms. The book has a wealth of material and numerous quotations -from Picasso, Picabia, Cézanne, Matisse, and others, considerably -more interesting and instructive than Mr. Eddy’s own truisms. -Although the author repeatedly resents any accusation in his adherence -to Cubism, the reader gets the impression that the Cubistic movement -has received a more thorough and fair treatment than the other -new schools. Of the sixty-nine reproductions of Post-Impressionistic -paintings and sculpture, only five represent the Futurists. Idillon -Redon, who gave us the greater delight in last year’s International -Exhibition, is totally ignored. Among the Self-Portraits that of Matisse -is sorely missed—a work that helps greatly in understanding the quaint -painter of the Woman in Red Madras. Whether Mr. Eddy will succeed -in convincing the prejudiced conservatives is doubtful; but in those -who have appreciated the daring attempts of the new schools his book -will arouse a renewed longing for the foreign “savages” and an ardent -hope for their further invasions in our “sane and healthful” galleries. -</p> - -<h3 class="section" id="THE_SAME_BOOK_FROM_ANOTHER_STANDPOINT"> -THE SAME BOOK FROM ANOTHER STANDPOINT -</h3> - -<p class="subt"> -(With apologies to the author of <em>Tender Buttons</em>) -</p> - -<p class="subt"> -<em>Oil and Water</em> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -Enough water is plenty and more, more is almost plenty enough. -Enthusiastically hurting sad size, such size, same size slighter, same -splendor simpler, same sore sounder. Glazed glitter, eddy eddies discover -discovered discoveries, discover Mediterranean sea, large print -large. Small print small, picked plumes painters and penmen, pretty -pieces Picasso, Picabia plus Plato, Hegel, Cézanne, Kandinsky, more -plenty more, small print single sign of oil supposing shattering scatter -and scattering certainly splendidly. Suppose oil surrounded with -watery sauce, suppose spare solely inside, suppose the rest. -</p> - -<p class="sign"> -—A. S. K. -</p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="article" id="SENTENCE_REVIEWS"> -<a id="page-64" class="pagenum" title="64"></a> -SENTENCE REVIEWS -</h2> - -</div> - -<div class="sentrev"> -<p class="note"> -(Inclusion in this category does not preclude a more extended notice.) -</p> - -<p> -<em>The Return of the Prodigal</em>, by May Sinclair. [The Macmillan Company, -New York.] Eight short stories, all subtly done. <em>The Cosmopolitan</em> -proves beyond a doubt that women, or at least the thousandth woman, is capable -of a disinterested love of life and of nature. It is a big story and a very -finished one. -</p> - -<p> -<em>John Addington Symonds</em>, by Van Wyck Brooks. [Mitchell Kennerley, -New York.] A biography of rare charm and distinction in which Mr. Brooks -builds a clear picture of Symonds’s life as it is related to our day. -</p> - -<p> -<em>The Sister of the Wind</em>, and <em>Other Poems</em>, by Grace Fallow Norton. -[Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston.] Some of this will disappoint lovers -of <em>Little Gray Songs From St. Joseph’s</em>—in fact, none of the poems here has -such extraordinary poignancy. But there are many that are worth knowing. -</p> - -<p> -<em>The Continental Drama of Today</em>, by Barrett H. Clark. [Henry Holt and -Company, New York.] Invaluable to the student of continental drama. A -half dozen pages of critical analysis devoted to each of thirty modern playwrights. -</p> - -<p> -<em>Stories and Poems and Other Uncollected Writing</em>, by Bret Harte, compiled -by Charles Meeker Kozlay, with an introductory account of Harte’s early -contributions to the California press. [Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston.] -A very beautiful Riverside Press volume with photogravures. -</p> - -<p> -<em>I Should Say So</em>, by James Montgomery Flagg. [George H. Doran -Company, New York.] Yes, he is silly; but Mr. Flagg is so nicely naughty -and so naughtily human that you simply must laugh. -</p> - -<p> -<em>Broken Music</em>, by Phyllis Bottome. [Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston.] -Charming and well done. The story of a young French boy’s struggle -to create music, and his success after the tradition of a “broken heart” had -been fulfilled. -</p> - -<p> -<em>The Old Game</em>, by Samuel G. Blythe. [George H. Doran Company, -New York.] A temperance tract by a man who knows; minus sanctimoniousness -and plus a punch. -</p> - -<p> -<em>Dramatic Portaits</em>, by P. P. Howe. [Mitchell Kennerley, New York.] -One man’s opinion of the modern dramatists. A “shelf book” for occasional -reference. -</p> - -<p> -<em>Billy and Hans</em>, by W. J. Stillman. [Thomas B. Mosher, Portland, -Maine.] A charming story of the most temperamental of pets, the squirrel. A -<a id="page-65" class="pagenum" title="65"></a> -Mosher book bound in a cover dark enough to stand wear. A distinct relief -from the Alice blue and pale old rose of Mr. Mosher’s more delicate periods. -</p> - -<p> -<em>Billy</em>, by Maud Thornhill Porter. [Thomas B. Mosher, Portland, -Maine.] The true story of a canary bird. One of those little documents written -for the enjoyment of a family circle and read on winter evenings. Bright, -human, and personal. -</p> - -<p> -<em>The Social Significance of the Modern Drama</em>, by Emma Goldman. -[Richard G. Badger, Boston.] Miss Goldman discusses Ibsen, Strindberg, -Sudermann, Hauptmann, Wedekind, Maeterlinck, Rostand, Brieux, Shaw, -Galsworthy, Stanley Houghton, Githa Sowerby, Yeats, Lenox Robinson, T. G. -Murray, Tolstoy, Tchekhof, Gorki, and Andreyev, outlining the plays of each -and emphasizing their relation to the problem of modern society. She is -the interpreter here rather than the propagandist, and her interpretations are -not academic discourses. They give you the plays partly by quotation, partly -in crisp narrative, and they are not the kind of interpretations that make -the authors wish they had never written plays. Whether you like Emma -Goldman or not, you will get a more compact and comprehensive working-knowledge -of the modern drama from her book than from any other recent -compilation we know of. -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="container"> -<p class="ded"> -DEDICATED<br /> -TO THAT HISTORIC MOMENT<br /> -WHEN<br /> -THEODORE ROOSEVELT<br /> -THE GREAT AMERICAN CHANTECLIER<br /> -SHALL AWAKE<br /> -TO FIND<br /> -THE SUN HIGH IN HEAVEN<br /> -AND THAT<br /> -HE<br /> -HAD CROWED NOT -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="editorials chapter"> -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="editorials" id="A_CHANGE_OF_PRICE"> -<a id="page-67" class="pagenum" title="67"></a> -A CHANGE OF PRICE -</h2> - -</div> - -<p> -With the August issue, the sixth month of our very flourishing -life, we have decided to make one important change in <em>The Little Review</em>. -We are reducing the subscription price to $1.50 a year, and that -of single copies to 15 cents. There will be no change in size or appearance. -Those whose subscriptions have already been paid on the -former basis will be continued for another half year. -</p> - -<p> -Our reason for doing so is this: We have discovered that a great -many of the people whom we wish to reach cannot afford to pay $2.50 -a year for a magazine. It happens that we are very emphatic about -wanting these people in our audience, and we believe they are as -sincerely interested in <em>The Little Review</em> as we are stimulated by having -them among our readers. Therefore we are going to become more -accessible. -</p> - -<p> -With characteristic lack of modesty we wish also to make another -announcement. Our success so far has exceeded even our own -hopes—and it may be remembered that they were rather high. As for -our practical friends who warned us against starting a literary magazine, -even their dark prophecies of debt and a speedy demise have had -to dissolve before our statements that we have paid our bills with what -<em>The Little Review</em> has earned in its six months of existence, that we -are free of debt, that we even have money in the bank, and a subscription -list that acts like a live thing! -</p> - -<p> -But we want more! We want everyone who might like <em>The -Little Review</em> to hear about it. Therefore: -</p> - -<p> -We want interested readers to be interested to the point of bringing -in others. We want intelligent spokesmen in every city in the -country to tell people about the magazine and to get their subscriptions. -Anyone sending in three yearly subscriptions will be given a -year’s subscription free. Or he may make a commission of 33 1-3 -per cent on every subscription he gets. College girls ought to find the -field a very workable one during their summer vacations. Every ten -subscriptions will mean $5.00 to the energetic young woman who pursues -her friends with accounts of <em>The Little Review’s</em> value and charm. -</p> - -<p> -We are trying to make a magazine that is unacademic, enthusiastic, -appreciative and critical in the real sense; that seeks and -emphasizes the beauty which is truth and insists upon a larger naturalness -and a nobler seriousness in art and in life. We know there is -room for such a magazine and we ask you to help us in advertising it. -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="ads chapter"> -<p class="h1 adh"> -THE COMPLETE WORKS OF<br /> -WALT WHITMAN -</p> - -<p class="subt"> -[AUTHORIZED BY THE EXECUTORS] -</p> - -<p class="adb"> -COMPLETE LEAVES OF GRASS -</p> - -<p> -This edition contains the text and arrangement preferred by Walt Whitman. All -other editions of “Leaves of Grass” are imperfect in this respect and incomplete. -There are one hundred and six poems in “Complete Leaves of Grass” not contained -in any other edition. -</p> - -<p> -“Complete Leaves of Grass” may be had in the following styles: -</p> - -<p class="adb"> -INDIA PAPER EDITION -</p> - -<p> -Bound in full limp dark green leather; gilt edges. With photogravure frontispiece -</p> - -<p class="r adp"> -$2.50 net -</p> - -<p class="adb"> -LIBRARY EDITION -</p> - -<p> -Bound in cloth; gilt top; uncut edges. With portrait frontispiece -</p> - -<p class="r adp"> -$1.50 net -</p> - -<p class="adb"> -POPULAR EDITION -</p> - -<p> -Bound in cloth. With portrait frontispiece -</p> - -<p class="r adp"> -$1.00 net -</p> - -<p class="adb"> -POPULAR EDITION -</p> - -<p> -Bound in paper. With portrait frontispiece -</p> - -<p class="r adp"> -$0.60 net -</p> - -<p class="adb"> -COMPLETE PROSE -</p> - -<p> -This is the only complete collection of Whitman’s prose writings. It is particularly -valuable to students of the poet, as it contains much biographical and other material -not to be found elsewhere. “Complete Prose” may be had in the following styles: -</p> - -<p class="adb"> -LIBRARY EDITION -</p> - -<p> -Bound in cloth; gilt top; uncut edges. With three photogravure illustrations -</p> - -<p class="r adp"> -$1.75 net -</p> - -<p class="adb"> -POPULAR EDITION -</p> - -<p> -Bound in cloth. With photogravure frontispiece -</p> - -<p class="r adp"> -$1.25 net -</p> - -<p class="adb"> -WITH WALT WHITMAN IN CAMDEN -</p> - -<p class="ada"> -BY HORACE TRAUBEL -</p> - -<p> -“The most truthful biography in the language.” To be complete in eight volumes, -of which three are now ready. -</p> - -<p> -Large octavo, gilt tops, uncut edges, and fully illustrated -</p> - -<p class="r adp"> -$3.00 net each -</p> - -<p class="adb"> -WALT WHITMAN: A Critical Study -</p> - -<p class="ada"> -BY BASIL DE SELINCOURT -</p> - -<p> -The latest book on Whitman (April, 1914). A study of unusual penetration. -</p> - -<p> -Cloth; gilt top; uncut edges. With photogravure frontispiece -</p> - -<p class="r adp"> -$2.50 net -</p> - -<p class="u ade"> -<span class="larger">MITCHELL KENNERLEY, PUBLISHER</span><br /> -32 West 58th Street NEW YORK -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="ads chapter"> -<p class="h2 adh"> -<a id="page-68" class="pagenum" title="68"></a> -Vol. IV · PRICE 15 CENTS · No. IV -</p> - -<div class="centerpic poetry"> -<img src="images/poetry.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p class="h1 hidden adh"> -Poetry -</p> - -<p class="hidden ads"> -A Magazine of Verse -</p> - -<p class="hidden ada"> -Edited by Harriet Monroe -</p> - -<p class="h3 adh"> -JULY, 1914 -</p> - - <div class="table"> -<table class="tablepoetry" summary="Table-1"> -<tbody> - <tr class="br"> - <td class="col1">Poems to be Chanted</td> - <td class="col2">Nicholas Vachel Lindsay</td> - </tr> - <tr class="i"> - <td class="col1" colspan="2">The Fireman’s Ball—The Santa Fé Trail, A Humoresque—The Black Hawk War of the Artists.</td> - </tr> - <tr class="br"> - <td class="col1">Poems</td> - <td class="col2">Richard Butler Glaenzer</td> - </tr> - <tr class="i"> - <td class="col1" colspan="2">From a Club Window—Rodin—Star Magic.</td> - </tr> - <tr class="br"> - <td class="col1">Sitting Blind by the Sea</td> - <td class="col2">Ruth McEnery Stuart</td> - </tr> - <tr class="br"> - <td class="col1">Roumanian Poems</td> - <td class="col2">Maurice Aisen</td> - </tr> - <tr class="i"> - <td class="col1" colspan="2">We Want Land—Peasant Love Songs I-VII—The Conscript I-IV.</td> - </tr> - <tr class="br"> - <td class="col1">Comments and Reviews</td> - <td class="col2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr class="i"> - <td class="col1" colspan="2">A French Poet on Tradition—Mr. Lindsay on “Primitive Singing”—Doina—Reviews—Notes.</td> - </tr> -</tbody> -</table> - </div> -<p class="ade"> -543 Cass Street, Chicago -</p> - -<p class="adp"> -Annual Subscription $1.50 -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="ads chapter"> -<p class="h2 adh"> -<a id="page-69" class="pagenum" title="69"></a> -To Be Published August Fifteenth -</p> - - <div class="table"> -<table class="table069" summary="Table-2"> -<tbody> - <tr class="t"> - <td class="col1">THE LAY ANTHONY: A ROMANCE</td> - <td class="col2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr class="i"> - <td class="col1">By Joseph Hergsheimer</td> - <td class="col2">$1.20 net</td> - </tr> - <tr class="t"> - <td class="col1">MARY JANE’S PA: A PLAY</td> - <td class="col2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr class="i"> - <td class="col1">By Edith Ellis</td> - <td class="col2">$1.00 net</td> - </tr> - <tr class="t"> - <td class="col1">THE THEATRE OF MAX REINHARDT</td> - <td class="col2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr class="i"> - <td class="col1">By Huntly Carter. Illustrated</td> - <td class="col2">$2.50 net</td> - </tr> - <tr class="t"> - <td class="col1">GRANITE: A NOVEL</td> - <td class="col2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr class="i"> - <td class="col1">By John Trevena</td> - <td class="col2">$1.35 net</td> - </tr> - <tr class="t"> - <td class="col1">ADVENTURES WHILE PREACHING THE GOSPEL OF BEAUTY</td> - <td class="col2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr class="i"> - <td class="col1">By Nicholas Vachel Lindsay</td> - <td class="col2">$1.00 net</td> - </tr> - <tr class="t"> - <td class="col1">MYLADY’S BOOK: POEMS</td> - <td class="col2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr class="i"> - <td class="col1">By Gerald Gould</td> - <td class="col2">$1.00 net</td> - </tr> -</tbody> -</table> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="ads chapter"> -<p class="h1 adh"> -THE FORUM -</p> - -<p class="h3 adh"> -THE LEADING AMERICAN REVIEW AND MAGAZINE -</p> - -<p> -¶ There has been no question as to the place of The Forum in -American letters and its value to American life. Addressing -perhaps the most intelligent public in the world, and throughout -the world, it has opened its pages to the free discussion of all -vital topics. -</p> - -<p> -¶ The Forum has published, and will continue to publish, the -best work that can be secured, whether the author be world-famous -or entirely obscure. More and more, it will develop the -policy of diversity of interest, so that it will appeal, not only to -the expert, but to every intelligent reader. It will touch every -side of experience, and it will print the best essays and articles, -the best short stories and plays, and the most significant poetry -produced in the country today. -</p> - -<p class="u adp"> -<em>Three Months’ Trial Subscription, 50 Cents</em><br /> -<em>25 Cents a Copy</em><br /> -<em>$2.50 a Year</em> -</p> - -<p class="u ade"> -<span class="larger">MITCHELL KENNERLEY PUBLISHER</span><br /> -32 West Fifty-Eight Street New York -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="ads chapter"> -<p class="h1 adh"> -<a id="page-70" class="pagenum" title="70"></a> -<em>The Mosher Books</em> -</p> - -<p class="c"> -<em>LATEST ANNOUNCEMENTS</em> -</p> - -<p class="h3 adh"> -<em>I</em> -</p> - -<p class="adb"> -<span class="larger">Billy</span>: The True Story of a Canary Bird -</p> - -<p class="ada"> -By <span class="smallcaps">Maud Thornhill Porter</span> -</p> - -<p class="r adp"> -<em>950 copies, Fcap 8vo. $1.00 net</em> -</p> - -<p> -This pathetic little story was first issued by Mr. Mosher in a privately printed edition -of 500 copies and was practically sold out before January 1, 1913. The late Dr. Weir -Mitchell in a letter to the owner of the copyright said among other things: “Certainly -no more beautiful piece of English has been printed of late years.” And again: “May -I ask if this lady did not leave other literary products? The one you print is so unusual -in style and quality and imagination that after I read it I felt convinced there must be -other matter of like character.” -</p> - -<p class="h3 adh"> -<em>II</em> -</p> - -<p class="adb"> -<span class="larger">Billy and Hans</span>: My Squirrel Friends. A True History -</p> - -<p class="ada"> -By <span class="smallcaps">W. J. Stillman</span> -</p> - -<p class="r adp"> -<em>950 copies, Fcap 8vo. 75 cents net</em> -</p> - -<p> -Reprinted from the revised London edition of 1907 by kind permission of Mrs. W. J. -Stillman. -</p> - -<p class="h3 adh"> -<em>III</em> -</p> - -<p class="adb"> -<span class="larger">Books and the Quiet Life</span>: Being Some Pages from The Private -Papers of Henry Ryecroft -</p> - -<p class="ada"> -By <span class="smallcaps">George Gissing</span> -</p> - -<p class="r adp"> -<em>950 copies, Fcap 8vo. 75 cents net</em> -</p> - -<p> -To the lover of what may be called spiritual autobiography, perhaps no other book in -recent English literature appeals with so potent a charm as “The Private Papers of -Henry Ryecroft.” It is the highest expression of Gissing’s genius—a book that deserves -a place on the same shelf with the Journals of De Guérin and Amiel. For the -present publication, the numerous passages of the “Papers” relating to books and reading -have been brought together and given an external setting appropriate to their exquisite -literary flavor. -</p> - -<hr class="hr10" /> - -<p class="c"> -<em>Mr. Mosher also begs to state that the following new editions are now ready</em>: -</p> - -<p class="h3 adh"> -<em>I</em> -</p> - -<p class="adb"> -<span class="larger">Under a Fool’s Cap</span>: Songs -</p> - -<p class="ada"> -By <span class="smallcaps">Daniel Henry Holmes</span> -</p> - -<p class="r adp"> -<em>900 copies, Fcap 8vo, old-rose boards. $1.25 net</em> -</p> - -<p> -For an Appreciation of this book read Mr. Larned’s article in the February Century. -</p> - -<p class="h3 adh"> -<em>II</em> -</p> - -<p class="adb"> -<span class="larger">Amphora</span>: A Collection of Prose and Verse chosen by the Editor of -The Bibelot -</p> - -<p class="r adp"> -<em>925 copies, Fcap 8vo, old-style ribbed boards. $1.75 net</em> -</p> - -<p> -<em>The Forum</em> for January, in an Appreciation by Mr. Richard Le Gallienne, pays tribute -to this book in a most convincing manner. -</p> - -<p class="s c"> -<em>All books sent postpaid on receipt of price net.</em> -</p> - -<p class="ade"> -<em>THOMAS B. MOSHER</em> <em>Portland, Maine</em> -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="ads chapter"> -<p class="h1 adh"> -<a id="page-71" class="pagenum" title="71"></a> -Nancy The Joyous <em>By Edith Stow</em> -</p> - -<div class="centerpic nancy"> -<img src="images/nancy.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p class="u hidden c"> -For a Lift on the Road to Happiness<br /> -<em>read</em><br /> -Nancy the Joyous<br /> -A Novel of pure Delight -</p> - -<p class="narrow"> -“<em>Here, at the bend of the road I stop to wave, -and to play you a gay little snatch of tune on -my pipes, like any other true gypsy.</em>”—<em>Nancy.</em> -</p> - -<p> -Nancy the Joyous is a simple little story—simple and -clean and true—like a ray of sunshine in a bleak corner; -like a wind-and-rain-and-sun-bathed flower on a steep mountainside. -It is a story of sentiment, but without weak sentimentality, -without tears, a kind of “salt-of-the-earth” optimism. -</p> - -<p> -¶ Brisk with the air of the Tennessee mountains, where Nancy finds the -“true values of life,” and warm with the joy of living and loving and laughing, -here is a “character” story—a “heart interest” story—a “local color” -story of a picturesque locality—and yet a straightforward, unpretentious romance -whose charm is based on more than mere uniqueness of characters or -setting. Nancy is buoyant with life itself. Nancy is a real girl, a likable girl, -and the love she inspires in her fellow creatures of the story is a real affection -that shines outside the pages of the book and seizes hold of the heart of the -reader. -</p> - -<p> -A delightful book to read. An ideal book to give to a friend. -</p> - -<p class="s narrow"> -<em>The make-up of the book is in keeping with the story. A -frontispiece in cheerful colors of Nancy herself; each chapter -has a specially drawn initial; each cheery letter has a full-width -pictorial heading. Bound in extra cloth; decorated cover, with -ornaments in gold. Pictorial jacket in full color and gold. -12mo. $1.00 net.</em> -</p> - -<p class="ade"> -Publishers <span class="larger">Reilly & Britton</span> Chicago -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="ads chapter"> -<p class="h1 adh"> -<a id="page-72" class="pagenum" title="72"></a> -<span class="s">A new novel by</span><br /> -Robert Herrick -</p> - -<div class="centerpic herrick"> -<img src="images/herrick.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p class="adb"> -CLARK’S FIELD -</p> - -<p class="s narrow"> -“In this virile book, Mr. Herrick studies the part played -by ‘unearned increment’ in the life of a girl. A notable -contribution to American realistic fiction.” -</p> - -<p> -“Few will dispute the statement that Robert Herrick is today the most significant -of our novelists. He is always sincere, and he is always worth our while.... Clark’s -Field is packed with meaning.”—<em>New York Tribune.</em> -</p> - -<p> -“The book is one that is worth reading and worth thinking about as a study of -American life and as an extremely interesting depiction of the development of a -human soul.”—<em>New York Times.</em> -</p> - -<p class="adp"> -<em>$1.40 net. Postage extra.</em> -</p> - -<p class="s ade"> -Boston <span class="larger">HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY</span> New York -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="ads chapter"> -<div class="centerpic mason"> -<a id="page-73" class="pagenum" title="73"></a><img src="images/mason.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p> -The <b>Mason & Hamlin</b> is the highest priced -piano in the world. But spread the cost -over the long years of service which you -may confidently expect of it and your -investment is one of proved economy. -</p> - -<p> -Yet above every consideration of cost is -the supreme satisfaction of owning the -piano which is the final choice of the -world’s greatest artists. -</p> - -<p class="u ade"> -<b>Mason & Hamlin</b> Pianos are on<br /> -sale only at the warerooms of the<br /> -<span class="larger"><em><span class="underline">Cable Piano Company</span></em></span><br /> -WABASH AND JACKSON -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="ads chapter"> -<p class="h1 adh"> -<a id="page-74" class="pagenum" title="74"></a> -THE DRAMA -</p> - -<p class="ads"> -A QUARTERLY DEVOTED TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF A WIDE -AND INTELLIGENT INTEREST IN DRAMA LITERATURE -</p> - -<p class="ade"> -736 MARQUETTE BLDG., CHICAGO :: $3.00 PER YEAR, 75 CENTS PER COPY -</p> - -<p> -Recent numbers have contained the following complete plays: -</p> - - <div class="table"> -<table class="table074" summary="Table-3"> -<tbody> - <tr> - <td class="col1">Tagore’s</td> - <td class="col2">“<em>The King of the Dark Chamber</em>”</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="col1">Dormay’s</td> - <td class="col2">“<em>The Other Danger</em>”</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="col1">Giacosa’s</td> - <td class="col2">“<em>The Stronger</em>”</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="col1">Andreyev’s</td> - <td class="col2">“<em>The Pretty Sabine Woman</em>”</td> - </tr> -</tbody> -</table> - </div> -<p> -All phases of drama and of the theatre are regularly and freely discussed, important -new books are reviewed at length, and occasional news notes from -foreign art centers are printed. -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="ads chapter"> -<p class="h1 adh"> -<em>Address</em> The Little Review -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="ade"> -917 Fine Arts Building :: Chicago -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="narrow"> -We want circulation solicitors in -every city in the country. Liberal -commissions. For particulars address -William Saphier, circulation -manager, The Little Review, 917 -Fine Arts Building, Chicago. -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="adp"> -<em>Beginning in August, $1.50 a year; 15 cents a copy</em> -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="trnote chapter"> -<p class="transnote"> -Transcriber’s Notes -</p> - -<p> -Advertisements were collected at the end of the text. -</p> - -<p> -The table of contents on the title page was adjusted in order to reflect correctly the -headings in this issue of <span class="smallcaps">The Little Review</span>. -</p> - -<p> -The article THE NEW LOYALTY—in the print interrupted on -<a href="#page-31">page 31</a>—was continued on <a href="#page-66">page 66</a>. -Page 66 was therefore moved directly after page 31. -</p> - -<p> -The original spelling was mostly preserved. A few obvious typographical errors -were silently corrected. All other changes are shown here (before/after): -</p> - - - -<ul> - -<li> -... Pas la <span class="underline">coulem</span> rien que la nuance!” has been mercilessly crucified ...<br /> -... 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