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diff --git a/old/65960-0.txt b/old/65960-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 506bf1b..0000000 --- a/old/65960-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3728 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Little Review, March 1915 (Vol. 2, -No. 1), by Margaret C. Anderson - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Little Review, March 1915 (Vol. 2, No. 1) - -Editor: Margaret C. Anderson - -Release Date: July 30, 2021 [eBook #65960] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Jens Sadowski and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net. This book was produced from images - made available by the Modernist Journal Project, Brown and - Tulsa Universities, modjourn.org. - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE REVIEW, MARCH 1915 -(VOL. 2, NO. 1) *** - - - - - - THE LITTLE REVIEW - - - _Literature_ _Drama_ _Music_ _Art_ - - MARGARET C. ANDERSON - EDITOR - - MARCH, 1915 - - Two Poems Fritz Schnack - For the New Animal in America Will Levington Comfort - Maurice Browne and The Little Theatre John Cowper Powys - Winter’s Pride George Soule - Two Points of View: - Mrs. Ellis’s Gift to Chicago Mary Adams Stearns - Mrs. Ellis’s Failure Margaret C. Anderson - The Acrobat Eloise Briton - A Young American Poet Richard Aldington - Editorials and Announcements - Ten Grotesques Arthur Davison Ficke - A New Standard of Art Criticism Huntley Carter - My Friend, the Incurable Alexander S. Kaun - New York Letter George Soule - “Alice in Wonderland” - Samaroff and Claussen Herman Schuchert - Book Discussion - The Reader Critic - - Published Monthly - - 15 cents a copy - - MARGARET C. ANDERSON, Publisher - Fine Arts Building - CHICAGO - - $1.50 a year - - Entered as second-class matter at Postoffice, Chicago - - - - - THE LITTLE REVIEW - - - Vol. II - - MARCH, 1915 - - No. 1 - - Copyright, 1915, by Margaret C. Anderson - - - - - Two Poems - - - FRITZ SCHNACK - - (_Translated from the German by William Saphier_) - - - BLOOMING SUNLIGHT - - Sharp rips the plow - And roots the day into the opened field, - And kneads the light and splendor of the world - Into the conquered darkness. - - In summer, between close rows - Of waving blades, grow flowers - Blooming buried sunlight. - - - EVENING GIFT - - Spread like the palm of a hand - Lies at bottom the evening, gold and red. - Every man may take as much as he likes - Of its beauty, up to the farthest hilltops, - As if it were wine and bread - Handed out to feed hungry souls - And to fill with light the thirsty. - - I stroll alone on gentle roads into the splendor - Bathing my face in a thousand rosy waves; - Far away like smoke from a black stack lies my pain. - I know it, yet I wander. - We may, like expectant children, be blessed. - - - - - For the New Animal in America - - - WILL LEVINGTON COMFORT - -My enemy has written a book.[1] - -This is not man-to-man enmity, but there need be no quibble about it. -For seventeen years I have studied T. R. as representative of that -America which has consistently betrayed the finer aspirations of our -people, shamed the real workman, bewildered the young in millions with -noise and show and shine, and unerringly dimmed for the many the -approaches to the Real. He stands today for armament, against all that -the New Spirit has shown us out of the bleeding heart of the world, -against the plain fact of the war as the quickener of spiritual life, -and against every dream that was ever born in the human breast out of -the loss of the love of self. - -You will say, “But why this study of T. R. now? Surely he has received -his _Thumbs-down_ even from the crowd, and with a unanimity seldom -accorded a public man still in the flesh.” ... I am not so sure. I wish -I could be sure that his latest message would be shut from the -receptivity of this land, as a door upon an evil draught. - -We have managed to clump along with bunglers through the recent -dropsical years of peace, but there was never such a need as now for a -man of vision and power at the forefront of our affairs. These States -since August have committed atrocities of short-sightedness and triumphs -of selfishness—enough to complicate us for future years. The partisan -and the militarist have already made our neutrality unclean. I would -like to be sure that their strongest influence has already been -encountered. - -On our southern borders is war, and our northern border is black with -distrust and the British point of view. From Vancouver to Halifax, the -voice of this hour is, “If Roosevelt were only in the chair at -Washington——” The ensuing part of the “if” covers the present issues -from Mexico to Belgium, and the trouble is that Canada knows from -England what she is wishing us; at least, in part, the venom and -abomination of the saying. To judge from the Press of the States there -are still many who would incite afresh the animal efficiency of our -country, and who range themselves in the background with this master of -the low vibration, calling upon us to answer Europe with a similar -desolation. - -... How many times have you heard it said, “This T. R. is in the -comprehension of the crowd.” This is true. The saddest conviction ever -forced into the mind of genius of any age is the opaqueness of the -surface which the crowd presents to light or loveliness of any kind. And -T. R. is in the comprehension of the bleakest generation which this -country has ever known; nor will there ever be another like it, for we -are at the end of the night. That which is about to break is either dawn -or doom. - -T. R. is still searching for the crowd through the endless folds of its -obliquity. Who shall say that these folds are not endless; that he may -not turn over still another fateful, if momentary allegiance, from the -bowels of our materialism? - -Enough that he is the voice to-day of the Prussian factor in America, a -voice from the throat of the militarists—that curious solution of beef, -iron and wine, from which—as Thou seest the Oise and the Aisne and the -Vistula flow red—oh, Lord, deliver us! - -I hold the conviction that if the militarists ever get in full cry after -this country, we shall lose our Peace and our personality. This is an -hour to stand by, and it is only in such an hour that I would venture to -study a party through the character of its loudest voice. For seventeen -years I have watched T. R. stand for the physical and the obvious. There -has been more noise about his name in America than about any other, and -yet he has never risen to a single great moment. And steadily he has -mounted higher in the consciousness of T. R. Many of us thought that the -crisis was reached, when for a day (a little before the last -presidential nominations) the ego broke within him, and those close at -hand saw a deranged creature.... A troop of us camped beside him in -Tampa, and followed the Rough Riders afield above Santiago. Perhaps he -has a certain animal courage—the cheapest utility of the nations—but -there is no moral quality to the courage of a man who would permit -himself to be cast into popular approval on a fake.... There was a -reunion two years afterward of those same Rough Riders in Oklahoma. T. -R. was there, campaigning on the shoulders of McKinley, much as Dr. Cook -did. On the way down through Kansas for two days, we heard him on the -back platform of the private coach, at every station where two or three -would gather together—pouring the most terrific physical energy into -political bickerings and half-truths, the same at each station—until we -drew the press table as far as possible forward, and bore the oppressive -heat with shut windows rather than that repeated clamor of words. He -would come in conqueringly, the black coat damp with sweat.... I -remember the ruffian exhibition with the cattle—steer-torturing, the -brand, the snap of bone, the tightened noose, thud of poor beasts to the -ground—all in a frame for him—the hat with the pinned-back brim, waving -over all.... - -No other man has been so mighty to keep the pestiferousness of America -alive in the minds of medieval Europe. As our representative citizen, he -has romped our yankeeisms and cutenesses from Queenstown to Port Said -and around. And so it has been for seventeen years since that Tampan -camp, from party to group, from fame to notoriety, from brute-shooting -and affidavits, to cocktails and new African rivers furnished with sworn -statements, from woman’s suffrage back to bayonetism,—always in the -sweat and heft of flesh, unvaryingly the animal man. - -They say that if a child is bred and born right, his earlier years -passed in hands that start him straight—such a child will return to the -beauty of his inception, if time and the world are permitted to work -sufficient misery upon him; misery being the great corrective. These -States of America were bred of a fair dream and born of a singular -beauty. The hope of the world today is that as a nation, we restore the -old dream, the old inspiration; not a turning back, for that is against -the law, but turning to a finer dimension of that old passion which made -us a refuge and a brotherhood. - -There has been fine living virtue in two recent actions of this -government—two bits of high behavior. Through one of these, it seemed -that a shaft of light poured down from the fatherland of the future—if -day is ahead and not doom. I refer to the return of the Boxer indemnity -to China.... It was like a fine moment in a busy life, and there was -poetry in the answer from old Mother China.... There are men who love -these States well enough to hate her many moments of unworthiness. The -other figment of true national character is the determination of the -part of Washington to keep her promise to Colombia.... I perceived that -T. R. has risen against that, even since his book setting forth the -needs of a new predatory impetus for our national life.... To anyone who -asks a law to go by, for the good of the country and the rectitude of -self, I would say, “Take the side that this man does not, and it will be -impossible for you to lose.” - - [1] _America and the World-War, by Theodore Roosevelt._ [_Charles - Scribner’s Sons, New York._] - - - - - Maurice Browne and The Little Theatre - - - JOHN COWPER POWYS - -Sick of war and discussion of war; sick of “first and last things” and -discussion of them; deafened by the raucous howling of the preachers, -and dumb before the fathomless stupidity of the mob, one may totter into -the cool quietness of The Little Theatre just as Heine, scarcely a -century ago, escaped from the madness of the crowd, and in that gallery -on the Seine fell at the feet of the armless Goddess! And she smiles at -us too—poor unknown strangers—just as she smiled at that famous -Wanderer; and though “she has no arms to help,” it is enough if for a -little while one can rest at her feet and forget “the voices of hate.” -It was by the incantation she has never been known to resist that she -was drawn here; to rest, after her long pilgrimage: for here she has -found the altar they had lost the secret of building, and the incense -they had forgotten how to burn! O the heavenly quietness of this place, -and the absence, even round about the purlieus of it, of the voices that -grate and jar and harrow and murder! - -Favete Linguis! Keep the holy silence, good stranger; till thou knowest -completely on what ground thou standest. “Numen inest!” There is Deity -in this sanctuary. Do the children of Gath howl with laughter, and the -daughters of Askalon shake with spleen, that one should speak of Deity -in the Fine Arts Building, and of Altars on Michigan Avenue? Let them -put out their tongues—let them spit forth their venom—the stone which -they have rejected has already become the head-stone of the temple of -the Future! - -Visit other so-called “Little Theatres,” my friends, and you will -understand why the Uranian had to make so long a journey. For there is -none like this. They are either—those others—too gaudy and “artistic”; -or they are too shoddy, ramshackle, littered, patchy and “bohemian.” -This is the place; the place where one can draw large even breaths; the -place where one can cool one’s fever; the place where one can drink, as -Shelley says, “of deep and liquid rest, forgetful of all ill.” - -And it matters not what they are “playing,” this gracious company of Our -Lady’s Servants, or whose liturgical “Use” they honor with their -acceptance. Many are such “hours,” such “offices.” It makes no -difference. One Gregorian Harmony brings them into the circle of One -Rhythm. Many and diverse are the offerings they offer up to that great -Goddess. Some are wanton and capricious, some grave and solemn, some -foreign and exotic, some native-born and natural, some from the -market-places of this very city, some from the far-off land of the -Goddess’s own engendering; some light as gossamer-seed, from no land at -all, but from the kingdom of airy nothings, sans habitation, sans name, -sans purpose! - -Yes, whatever the words of the “local breviary” we persuade them to -adopt to their music, the effect of it upon the listeners is the same. -“Razed out” at last are those “written troubles”; “cleansed” at last, of -“that perilous stuff,” is the poor “stuff’d bosom”! - -Chicago’s Little Theatre is the real “Alsatia”—the authentic -“Arcanum”—the true “Hesperidean Grove”! And do you ask how it rose, -“like an eschalation,” into being—what hands built it—what genius, what -magic, still sustains it? What, do you suppose, questioner at the gate, -worked this miracle? What, do you surmise, wrought this spell? Have you -really no inkling, in this sphere of the raising of Altars, how such -things are done? - -Only in one way! There is only one kind of occult adventure—Goethe tells -us that—by means of which these Euphorions of Beauty grow into life! -There must be the creative spirit of Man, giving the thing “Form”; and -the creative spirit of Woman, giving the thing “Color.” Thus we -understand. Thus we unravel the mystery. Thus we learn how the -impossible happens! Look, inquisitive Stranger, at the Inscription over -the entrance to this enchanted retreat. Read the names written upon the -door. Do you catch the trick of it now—do you glimpse the clue? _Two_ -names are there—our Faust’s and our Helen’s—and behind those two names -lurk the creative genius that _wills_, and the creative genius that -gives color to what is _willed_. Thus the miracle is accomplished. And -behold—Euphorion! For English “Maurice” and American “Nelly” have that -inestimable bond, between the links of which alone can the true -Parnassian Hyacinths put forth their “hushed, cool-rooted flowers” for -the delight of gods and men;—I mean agreement of “opinion,” with -diversity of “temperament.” - -The supremely happy “chance” of the coming together of these two—why not -believe the legend that gives to the very Land of the Muses the spell -that achieved it?—resulted in nothing less than that indescribable -synthesis of Man’s Intellect and Woman’s Instinct which is the desire of -the ages! So ought human beings to be united. So ought their poor mortal -“love,” radiating from Zenith to Nadir, to provoke the return of Saturn, -the unbinding of Prometheus, the Vita Nuova for which we all pine! - -It is in fact the presence of our “New Helen” as the guiding, balancing, -mellowing, sweetening influence, in this enterprise, which has enabled -the austere “Formula” of the Founder to take to itself flesh and blood. -For the director of the Little Theatre of Chicago is no Dilettante—no -Petit-Maître of a pompous coterie—no bric-à-brac Virtuoso. Stern and -high and cold is his Ideal; clear and clean-cut the lines that limit it! -To reproduce in the heart of the great mad City—the City of the -“Middle-West”—the City of America—that Rhythm and Harmony which Plato -felt as the secret of the ultimate spheres, is not such a thing worthy -of the gift of a man’s life? - -And it is nothing less than a man’s life, and a woman’s too, which is -being given for this. For such temples are not built without the -shedding of blood. Those who have ears to hear let them hear! As the -wise Lady says, who comes from the Isle of the Saints, “The Bridge to -the World’s Future hides within its arches the bodies of the World’s -First-Born!” It is not for any “strayed reveller,” however sensitive to -what he has seen, to give the word of Initiation to these devoted ones’ -long-labored Mystery. Maurice Browne’s methods may be seen, and the -passionate irritability of his over-tasked nerves may be teased and rung -upon; but the high invisible walls of the Citadel he is raising—the -“topless towers” of his Ilium—are not for the searching of the profane. -And yet a modest guess may be hazarded as to where, in our horizon, -those towers will grow. They will grow, as all true classical ramparts -have grown, protecting us from the hordes of vulgarity, out of the -ground and soil of inveterate tradition. They will not grow to the tune -of the idealization that spurns “reality,” they will grow to the tune of -the idealization that sifts, selects, winnows, purifies, and heightens -“reality.” They will not be built, they are not being built, according -to the fierce fanaticism of any particular School or Cult or Pass-word. -The sub-soil of their tradition has been watered by no tears but those -of Humanity, and will be sown with no harvest but the harvest of -Humanity. If they are more Greek, or more Hebraic, than anything else, -that is only because to the Greeks and the Jews rather than to the rest -it has been allowed to sweep the unessential absolutely aside and return -with clear-eyed innocence to the main facts. Maurice Browne is not the -slave of Euripides—though, by God! some might think so—nor is he the -slave of the Bible. It is only that he knows too well—too well for his -peace and the peace of his friends!—that only from the depths of that -one tragic fountain—the naked human heart, my friends—spring the little -opal-tinted bubbles that reflect the World! - -What has been revealed to our modern Faust in those queer “absences from -the Body,”—what has been revealed to him in those hours, when his nerves -find us so hard to bear—what “the Mothers” have really whispered to -him—who were bold enough even to guess? But this much a poor Satyr of -the Outer Court may without impertinence divine. For Maurice Browne the -whole world resolves itself into an act of worship. The thing worshiped -we know nothing of, save in the eternal rhythm of life; and the “other -worshippers” we know nothing of, save in the music which responds to -that rhythm; but the whole drama—down the long desperate -centuries—resolves itself into nothing less than an attempt to attune to -reciprocity those two cadences—the voice of the Unknown World-Priest, -intoning through the ages, and the voice of the innumerable generations -answering! Have I been able in the remotest degree to indicate why to -the good sneering philistines who mock at all this and ask “what is a -Little Theatre but—a Little Theatre”? there may come some day a somewhat -ghastly awakening, a somewhat damning remorse? In that hour—in that -“Judgment”—happy will those citizens of Chicago be who have prepared the -way, and not laid themselves down in the way, of the builders of the -Abbey of Thelema! - -What The Little Theatre is doing is nothing less than a restoration to -the worship of the Eternal Gods of an Institution which has been -bastardized, perverted and profaned! Think what the Drama in our days -has become! Think what “buyers and sellers” have set up their “tables” -in the Lord’s House! The Theatre, in our generation, is no more that -sacred stage where Life is purged and winnowed and heightened; and -where, out of the Tragedy and Comedy of it, clear triumphant music is -made audible. Poetic Drama is extinct. And yet can Life be said to be -even approximately mimicked by anything less than poetry? _Emotions_ we -have enough of and to spare—emotions and sensations! But these are not -poetry. These are but the heavy, raw, crude, chemical protoplasm of -poetry. Thus the only plays of our time which are beautiful and -successful and true to the life-instinct are _Farces_. Farces need not -be poetical. They represent the kicking up of satyr-heels round the -outer circle of the Dionysian grove. They represent the insurgent -rebellion of the humorous mob against all law or rule. And as such they -are admirable. As such they have their place. Indeed they are all that -is left of admirable in our modern Theatre. They are our only -contribution to this world-old act of worship—the contribution of -beautifully kicking up our heels! Putting aside Wagner and Strauss and -half-a-dozen Latin Opera-Makers, what has our stage got which really -answers to the religious exigency of which I am speaking? Nothing but -Farce, nothing but Satyr-heels! Devoted revivals of Gilbert and Sullivan -restore to us our youth once in a long season and _Fanny’s First Play_ -and _Pygmalion_ hit our tired heathen fancy. But for the rest—! -Hyperborean morbidities technically adjusted to bourgeois drawing-rooms -with snow-avalanches muttering at the window, are indeed enough to make -unlaid troublesome ghosts of the great psychological names of Ibsen and -Strindberg. But psychology, whether it dissect the old Bourgeois Family -or the New Feminist Lure, is, after all, only a transitory analysis of -ephemeral situations. It does not spring from what, in the relations -between Man and Woman, is eternal and unchangeable. It does not turn -into dramatic poetry the long cry of our common fate. The pathological -“macabrism” of Ibsen and Strindberg dissolves like mephitic scum when -the eternal constellations, under which Job and David and Sophocles -wrote, mount up through the deep hushed air. Mr. Browne has an artist’s -and an Irishman’s passion for Synge—but he knows better than we could -tell him that gaelic Mythology is not classical Mythology and gaelic -poetry is not Universal poetry. And so we return to the one old Path—the -one undying Tradition. We _literally_ return to it. For, after all their -lovely and alluring experiments in a hundred directions, the great work -of The Little Theatre—until Mr. Browne writes his own epoch-making -Poetic Play—is, as we all confess, the revival of Euripides. It is here -and only here that The Little Theatre of Chicago rouses itself, through -every nerve and vein of its corporate body, to grand and undistracted -reciprocity. And here we are in the presence of a true Renaissance: a -Renaissance as authentic and deep as that which the fifteenth century -stumbled upon. The truth of what I am saying will be sealed, for the few -who understand this “open secret,” by the fact of the instinctive -preference displayed, not only by the director but by the whole company, -for _The Trojan Women_, over the less universal, the less classical, the -more modern _Medea_. - -No one who has a real insight into what Poetic Drama means—Poetic Drama -the highest of all human Arts—can hesitate for a moment as to where The -Little Theatre rises to a permanent and tradition-making height. It -rises to such a height in its performance of _The Trojan Women_. And it -does so because here and here alone, by reason of the universal nature -of the subject—nothing less in fact than the incarnation of World’s -Sorrow—every member of the company is touched and attuned and compelled -and transfigured to the same ultimate Pity. - -It is not only of “Ilion” we think, it is not only for “Ilion” we weep, -in those world-deep choruses; we weep for all the sons and daughters of -men, doomed by the same doom, who “must endure”—with Argive Helen—“their -going hence, even as their coming hither.” The magical Irish “plummet” -of Synge does not, cannot, sound much depth;—and before the bowed -figures of those world-mourners, carved as if by the chisel of Pheidias, -our pathological Hyperborean Phantoms go squeaking, bat-like, to -oblivion. - -When, in the future, Poetic Drama once more attains the position to -which the self-preservative instincts of humanity entitle it, it will be -recognized for what it is—the true religious focussing of man’s -permanent protest against Fate—lifted above the dust of all ephemeral -questioning. It will then be seen that in Poetic Drama, rather than in -the noblest sacraments of Religion, the race must find its orchestral -unity, the rhythm of its natural and Tragic breathing. And when this is -seen, and the history of the thing written, The Chicago Little Theatre, -its directors and its company, will receive (too late, as always, for -personal relief) their delayed appreciation. - -It would be unjust, in any such tentative anticipation of Time’s verdict -as these pages suggest, to praise Maurice Browne at the expense of those -who so wonderfully work with him. We may have our European blood, our -European Formalism; but, after all, our stage is an American stage, our -company an American company. In estimating the actual contribution of -individual members of the company, to the Idea behind it, it were wise -to be cautious and discreet. Any praise of a particular performer must -needs fall a little discordantly when a certain impersonal rhythmic -orchestration is the note of the whole matter. No such faux-pas is -risked in the mention of three names. This “Chicago Renaissance” in -which Maurice Browne plays the part of the golden-mouthed Mirandola hath -also its young Angelo, “seeking the soul” of light and form and color. -The work that has been done is so much, after all, a matter of technical -inspiration, that to omit the name of Raymond Johnson from its annals -were to write the history of Florence without alluding to Michele. -Chicago may indeed regard itself, for all its chaotic tumult, as the -Tuscan City of America; for nowhere else is so pure a flame, of -single-hearted devotion to Beauty, burning on this side of the Atlantic! -And with the name of Raymond Johnson, the artist of the company, it is -necessary to link that of Edward Moseman, its greater actor. It is -strange that it should have been left to a wandering European—and yet -perhaps not strange!—to make audible the prediction, which all -discerning dramatic critics must inevitably be making in their hearts, -that in not so very many years Mr. Moseman will be recognized, from -shore to shore, as the most interesting and most personally-arresting -player that this country has produced since Booth. - -That a genius of his peculiarly _idiosyncratic_ type should have been -magnetized—against his will—into the “formalism” of the One Tradition, -is about as good an evidence as could be found of the power and -conviction of Maurice Browne’s impersonal Ideal! - -The third name I may be allowed to mention, without impertinent -intrusion into orchestral harmonies, is the name of Miss Vera White. I -am not now referring to Miss White’s untiring constructive labor upon -what one might call “the architectural scaffolding” of The Little -Theatre’s productions. I am referring to her personal genius as an -actress. Nothing more natural, nothing more _inevitable_, nothing more -winning and seductive, than this gentle actress’s rendering of the -wronged mother in Mrs. Ellis’s Cornish Play could be possibly imagined. -And the same enchanting qualities of direct self-effacing emotion will -no doubt be even more irresistible when, in a classic role, she comes to -play the Nurse in Medea. Of Ellen Van Volkenburg’s own acting in this -classic Renaissance which she is helping her husband to summon from “the -vasty deep,” I cannot speak; for I have only seen her in those charming -“genre” plays where she loves, mischievously enough, to transform -herself, like a witch-fairy, into every mortal kind of dream-person! But -I know enough of her to know at least one aspect of her October-shadowy -moods, which will make us tremble before her Medea! - -Well! The Euphorion—the child of this encounter of Past and Present has -yet to grow his full wings. He is still a “Ge-Uranic,” a Child-Angel. -But those who have had the fortune of being present at the scene of his -high engendering will never forget their privilege. “It is a long way” -to the shores of Troas from the shores of our Chicago Lake; but for one -wanderer at least the great goddess of the Gallery of the Louvre has not -worked her spells in vain. Still, with the Elizabethan, we can cry aloud -to her through the mists of many journeyings: “Her lips suck forth my -soul. See where it flies.” - - - - - Winter’s Pride - - - GEORGE SOULE - - Intolerant wind, cold, swift over the sand, - An icy-silver sun upon the sea, - Back-spraying plumes of molten white - Wind-lifted from the curling breakers’ tips - That proudly charge the shore with steady roll - And crisping plunge, - The soft advance of foam— - Its million breaking bubbles, - Its elfin rush and tingle; - - A thousand gulls awing, - Startled to dipping flight and curving glide, - Their flashing arabesques against the sun - Twisting a thousand beauties never still - Until they rest, fearless, lifted and falling - Upon the surging surf; - - And you and I - Striding the flat, resilient sand, - Seeking the distance tirelessly, - Our faces burning, - Our speech of silence made, - In equal freedom joined perfectly, - And our uplifted spirits - Plumed like the waves, exulting with the gulls; - - These things are potent - To cleanse us through the years - And to redeem - All dull and sluggard hours; - These things are proof - Of all bright beauty, all swift ecstacy. - - - - - Two Points of View - - - Mrs. Ellis’s Gift to Chicago - - MARY ADAMS STEARNS - -Love, eugenics, marriage, are not three questions, but merely different -aspects of the one great sex problem, which, according to Mrs. Havelock -Ellis, must be solved within the hearts and souls of men and women and -not by the acts of any legislative body. Those who braved the wind and -the rain to hear this well known writer and thinker talk about “Sex and -Eugenics” were filled with sharp expectancy as she stepped forward to -speak—a short woman about fifty years old, with iron gray hair cut close -to her head, piercing blue eyes, eloquent hands and a low voice, -wonderfully modulated and seemingly as tireless as her poised, vigorous -body; yet expectation seldom fulfills the bright dreams it dangles -before our eyes. We let ourselves be carried away with enthusiasm, and -then are hurt because our visions lack fulfillment. Some expected too -much. - -Chicago has welcomed Mrs. Ellis warmly, yet within this cordiality there -have been hidden germs of fear, unreasonable hopes, slavish admiration, -mental indifference and misunderstanding—it is always so. She is without -question in the foremost ranks of women thinkers, and behind her, trying -more or less sincerely to gain an understanding of the great truths that -she teaches and upholds, are hordes of women—curious, broad-minded, -bigoted, desperate, frightened, sane thinkers, and sentimentalists; -women who are economic slaves and others who are financially -independent. What does Mrs. Ellis mean to each one of them? What -message, if any, has she brought? Has she added anything vital and new -to our store of sex and eugenic knowledge which is already burdened with -much mediocre and even valueless information? - -Nothing but death could have kept me away from her lecture in Orchestra -Hall February 4th—to which after considerable unnecessary hesitation men -were admitted. Although I knew that I was approaching a burning bush I -felt it was doomed to be hidden in a cloud of misapprehension, -disappointment, and disapproval, and I walked gingerly with my mind open -and unprejudiced and alert. I was fully as eager to catch the atmosphere -of the audience, to fathom the thoughts of the thousand odd brains that -listened, as I was to see and hear Mrs. Ellis herself. - -The lecture was an event. The dignity, the lack of sensationalism, the -quiet earnestness of what was said revealed a force at work in the world -as steady and inevitable as the glacier’s erosion of the Swiss hills. -Yet this quality of Mrs. Ellis’s mind is shown in all she writes and is -shared by all who read her pages. _Her great gift to Chicago was her -personality._ It gleamed through every word she spoke and blazed into a -pure white flame, that seemed by its very intensity to create a new -heaven and a new earth where love shall rise Phoenix-like from the ashes -of souls and bodies consumed by a misunderstood and misused passion. - -There were well-known and influential women who stayed away from the -lecture because they were afraid—afraid of the truth. Because in their -blindness they could not see behind the cheap sensationalism of certain -newspapers and understand the spiritual purity for which Mrs. Ellis has -always stood. Yet their absence showed them not so much cowards as women -incapable of reaching the great white lights of life. - -Then there were women who came to the lecture expecting to be shocked; -and they went away disappointed. There were women who came laughing and -gossiping; and they went away still laughing and wondering what all the -fuss was about anyway. They could not see anything extraordinary; it was -all rather commonplace and not altogether new. - -And a few came quietly, knowing that they were to contact a great -earnest and wonderful personality; who above all her broad wisdom stands -for the highest ideals that humanity knows—a little woman with a big -mind. These went away thoughtfully, and were satisfied, for they -understood. - -They felt as well as did Mrs. Ellis herself what could and what could -not be said on a public platform to a gathering of more than a thousand -prejudiced and in some cases antagonistic listeners. They had in their -minds, as of course she had also, knowledge of the many scientific -volumes that her husband has written. Those familiar with Havelock Ellis -were better prepared to listen than the others. They were grounded in -the facts and science of sex which has never been disclosed as he has -done it, and those who have read his pages know that in them he is the -complete scientist, weighing, comparing, crediting, and discrediting the -facts that have come to him. In no way are his sex studies -propagandic—they are a tremendous reservoir of static power. It has been -for his wife and co-worker, she of independent mind and high purpose, to -take all this vast collection of scientific information in her small -hands, crush out the sordidness, the misery, the heart-sickening -perversions and distortions of human lives and holding up the bright -ideals, fling them out to her listeners in phrases burning with hope for -both men and women and faith that true love will make everything whole. - -She did not pose as a righter of personal grievances or a solver of -private woes. The individual was lost in the group; details were -submerged in generalities; isolated examples made way for guiding -principles. When Mrs. Ellis said “We must improve our knowledge if we -would improve our morals” and that there can be no guide to right living -except that which comes from within, she gave us the key to happiness. - -If one might guess, she is a little impatient with laws and quite out of -sympathy with those who, knowing but little themselves, try to bind -others by rules and regulations which often defeat the very ends for -which they were made. “What we want is more eugenics by education, and -less eugenics by legislation” she cried; and what she implied many times -was that when we come to regard sex love as one of the greatest -manifestations of the soul—not one of the offensive expressions of the -body—then and then only shall we have eugenic babies and happy men and -women. - -Mrs. Ellis referred to the sex function as a “great spiritual -enterprise” and said that only through the conflict of ideals can -progress be made. With “courage, sanity, and cleanliness” in our hearts -we must “cease to regard sex as mere animalism,” and must “forge passion -into power.” “The sex function is divine fire,” it is “as much an affair -of the soul as of the body” and “it is no more disgraceful to function -on the sex plane than on the hunger plane or on the thirst plane.” She -sees that only in the economic independence of women can sex relations -be righted—love and money must be completely divorced. Any form of -barter, whether lawfully within marriage or unlawfully outside of -marriage, is fatal to the free giving of love. Sex love must exist only -where there is affinity—never where there is question of possession. -Only by being economically free can a woman raise herself above the rank -of a prostitute. - -Mrs. Ellis spoke of our changing ideals; that what is normal for the ape -is gross for the average man and woman, and that what has been accepted -as inevitable by ordinary men and women will be utterly intolerable to -the super men and women of the near future. “The woman of the future -will be the high priestess of sense, not the victim of sensuality as she -now is.” “She will learn to love beautifully and live joyfully.” She -referred to the way our bodies have sunk into disrepute ever since Greek -times until to the Puritans everything was impure and emphasized the -fact that “our bodies and our souls are not enemies, but mates.” - -Mrs. Ellis could not in a lecture of this sort have touched upon special -sexual situations. She was raising the standards of purity, right -living, and sanity; she was creating ideals, she was destroying -sordidness, she was upholding the sanctity of knowledge and holiness of -a love that is free to give or withhold. She was showing women their -weakness and pointing out where men have been tyrannical; she was -creating a divine dissatisfaction in every soul that heard her. She was -the angel fearing to tread where legislative and police fools rush in -and slash about with the sword of reform. - -“Create in us clean hearts and our bodies will take care of themselves,” -seemed to be her prayer. She showed the goals of happiness and right -living; revealed that her own life had proved these things and found -them good. Those who went away disappointed were those who expected her -to lay down rules and say “This shall you do and that, but not the other -thing.” But that is not Mrs. Ellis’s way. She shows us what it is -possible to do, but she distinctly leaves it to every individual to find -his or her own way, unhampered by law, and free to make mistakes if -unavoidable. She points out that some of the world’s greatest geniuses -have been neurotics, as Oscar Wilde, Michael Angelo, Chopin, Rosa -Bonheur, Nietszche. We must make our own paths by looking within, not -trusting to man-made laws and customs. - -Those who found the lecture vague and unsatisfactory must increase their -knowledge, not expect a woman to tell in thirty-five minutes all she has -learned in thirty-five years. Was it not enough for her to confess that -we must engage in the sex relation with a “fine passionateness and -spiritual deviltry”? Was it not enough for her to set up the ideal that -the sex function is the “great spiritual enterprise”? Was it not enough -for her to set before men and women the highest ideals that the human -mind had yet conceived? And was it not enough to look at and to listen -to a woman who knows whereof she speaks and who has lived all that she -teaches? - -She has found her way through the same clouds of prejudice and prudery -that surround us, and to us of Chicago she has given the great privilege -of sharing with her what she called the proudest moment of her life and -of listening to what, for the first time in her life, she could freely -say. Those looking for cheap sensations will not find them in Mrs. -Ellis. Those trying to limit human action by passing laws will receive -no help from her words. Those hampered by conventions and shackled by -fear of the truth must be born again into the beauty and holiness of -every side of human life before they can even see the heights whereon -Mrs. Ellis stands. Let those who would find happiness for themselves and -a happy issue out of the sufferings of the men and women and children -and unborn babes, look into their own hearts and bravely face what is -there. - -Women have always run away from anything sexual as unwomanly. She must -face her own nature; she must learn that to most women “the sex impulse -is the hunger of her soul”; she must study men and find a way to raise -them from the errors into which they have fallen. She must cease to be a -prude, and learn to be brave, patient, wise; she must study, read and -think. Nothing is unwomanly save dishonesty, and until women are honest -enough and fearless enough to face what is within themselves, neither -Mrs. Ellis nor anyone else can help them. Mrs. Ellis is a leader, not a -driver, and because she has found life good she is an inspiration which -no woman can afford to disregard. - - - Mrs. Ellis’s Failure - - MARGARET C. ANDERSON - -There was one great fault to be found with Mrs. Ellis’s lecture: it was -not illuminating. It might have failed in any number of other ways and -still have been a real contribution; but it should not have dared to -fall short in that respect, because Mrs. Ellis came forward in the role -of one who has a message and because she chose a subject upon which one -must have a message or not talk at all. What Mrs. Ellis did is the kind -of thing against which our generation has its deepest grudge, and it -constitutes a very special case of what we mean when we talk so heatedly -about Truth. We mean nothing startling by that:—simply that quality -which some one has had the good sense to call “releasing.” - -A few days before the lecture Mrs. Ellis said that she might as well -call her talk anything except merely “Sex and Eugenics,” because she -meant to discuss love, spiritually, sex abnormalities, and many other -matters. “I have read all my husband’s manuscripts before they were -published and I know he has never told anything but the truth about -sex,” she said. “I have waited some thirty years to talk about these -things, and I shall tell the truth as I know it, if I am sent to jail or -put out of Chicago for it.” On another occasion she said that she meant -to talk of those people who, through perverted or inverted -sexual tendencies, faced the problem of having to turn their -abnormality—perhaps their gift of genius, if we understood these things -better—into creative channels. Because of all this it was only natural -to expect a message from Mrs. Ellis. - -But what actually happened was this: Dr. W. A. Evans opened the meeting -by reading a short paper on Havelock Ellis—a paper full of pompous -phrases and of real interest in its utter lack of thought. He gave some -biographical data which everyone knew, told the dates of Mr. Ellis’s -various publications, repeated the chapter titles of one of his less -important works, and really said nothing at all. Then Mrs. Ellis read a -paper which her husband had written especially for the occasion—the most -uninteresting thing that wonderful man has ever written, I am sure. It -had a lot of abstractions about masculinism and feminism, and really -said nothing at all. (I use the word “nothing” on a basis of Ideas.) -Then Mrs. Ellis read her own paper, which was beautifully written and -charmingly delivered, and which said nothing at all. She said in brief -that there should be no war between body and soul, and that Oscar Wilde -should have been understood rather than sent to jail. These things are -not ideas; they are common sense. They are all quite simply recognized -by thinking people; and most of Mrs. Ellis’s audience was composed of -thinking people who wanted her individual philosophy on these matters. -They were not asking her for art but for thought—not for expression but -for meaning. Her failure was of the sort of which prophets are never -guilty. - -Of course, Mrs. Ellis may not wish to be considered a prophet or a -philosopher. Then there should not have been so much talk of offering a -completely new view of sex. She may regard herself as a poet, an -interpreter. Very well; then she should have given a substantial vision -of a future state when love in all its aspects is valued and understood. -Mrs. Ellis cannot be blamed for the sensational stories in the paper. -Her suggestion that men be admitted to the lecture because they need -education in this field as much as women need it, was made simply and -without any thought of sensation. Everybody knows what the press will -make of such material as that. And everybody knows how an organization -managed exclusively by women is likely to be twisted into silly, -sentimental, or malicious issues. But Mrs. Ellis _can_ be blamed for -that attitude which promises more than it has to give, and very -seriously blamed for that spirit which hints that there may be cause for -shame where there is no cause. There has been something altogether too -suggestive of “Did my lecture shock you?” in Mrs. Ellis’s attitude. -These things are not _shocking_; they are beautiful or terrible, -according as they are understood or misrepresented, but so long as the -truth about them is faced squarely they should carry no hint of shock. -The only test of an “emerged personality” is its arrival at a point -where it is not shocked by anything human beings may do or be. You may -be deeply moved or terribly hurt, but you are not merely offended or -embarrassed or startled. All that brings things down to such a little -scale. I don’t know just why, but Mrs. Ellis’s attitude has reminded me -of the man who advised me not to read Havelock Ellis’s volumes on the -psychology of sex, because after such an experience I could never -respect human beings again. If he had been ignorant or puritanical his -remark wouldn’t have mattered; but he was a rather well-known sexologist -and he believed those books to be very valuable! What he meant was that -it is “so disillusioning” to know the truth. If Mrs. Ellis were that -sort of person these things I object to wouldn’t matter in the least. As -it is, they matter hugely. Her failure to assume that knowledge is too -important a thing to concern itself with people’s pruderies is on a par -with the man’s failure to recognize that truth is never disastrous. - -Nearly all the people in Orchestra Hall that night had read Ellis and -Carpenter and Weininger and other scientists, and they expected to hear -how far Mrs. Ellis’s personal views coincided or disagreed with these -authorities. But she had no intention of such elucidation, it seems. She -didn’t say what she thought about free love, free divorce, social -motherhood, birth-control, the sex “morality” of the future, or any of -these things. On the other side of the question, in her reference to -intermediate types, she didn’t mention homosexuality; she had nothing to -say about the differences between perversion and inversion, nor did she -even hint at Carpenter’s social efforts in behalf of the homosexualist. -What does Mrs. Ellis think about Weininger’s statement that intermediate -sexual forms are “normal, not pathological phenomena, in all classes of -organisms, and their appearance is no proof of physical decadence?” Does -she agree with him, in his reference to the idea that inversion is an -acquired character and one that has superseded normal sexual impulses, -when he says, “It might equally be sought to prove that the sexual -inclination of a normal man for a normal woman was an unnatural, -acquired habit. In the abstract there is no difference between the -normal and the inverted type. In my view all organisms have both -homosexuality and heterosexuality.... In spite of all present-day clamor -about the existence of different rights for different individualities, -there is only one law that governs mankind just as there is only one -logic and not several logics. It is in opposition to that law as well as -to the theory of punishment according to which the legal offense, not -the moral offense, is punished, that we forbid the homosexualist to -carry on his practices whilst we allow the heterosexualist full play, so -long as both avoid open scandal. Speaking from the standpoint of a purer -state of humanity and of a criminal law untainted by the pedagogic idea -of punishment as a deterrent, the only logical and rational method of -treatment for sexual inverts would be to allow them to seek and obtain -what they require where they can, that is to say, among other inverts.” -It is not enough to repeat that Shakespeare and Michael Angelo and -Alexander The Great and Rosa Bonheur and Sappho were intermediates: how -is this science of the future to meet these issues? They move into the -realm of the world’s sublime tragedies when one reads the manifesto of a -community of such people in Germany:—“The rays of sunshine in the night -of our existence are so rare that we are responsive and deeply grateful -for the least movement, for every single voice that speaks in our favor -in the forum of mankind.” Mrs. Ellis may have thought her audience -entirely too unsophisticated, too untutored in these matters, to admit -of specific treatment. But that is all the greater reason to talk -plainly. When you reflect how difficult it is for the mass to become -educated about sex it becomes rather appalling. It is worth your life to -get Havelock Ellis’s six volumes from a bookstore or a library. You can -only do it with a doctor’s certificate or something of that sort. Even -if you ask for Weininger you are taken behind locked doors, forced to -swear that you want it out of no “morbid curiosity,” that you will keep -it only a week, and above all that you won’t let anyone else read it. Of -course, it is practically impossible to do work of this sort under the -auspices of women’s medical leagues or similar organizations. But Mrs. -Ellis had dared the impossible. I can’t help comparing her with another -woman whose lecture on such a subject would be big, brave, beautiful.... -I am criticised for having too much about this other woman in THE LITTLE -REVIEW; so “not to mention any names,” as the story goes, I will merely -say that Emma Goldman could never fail in this way. - -It is not a question of what could or could not be said on a public -platform; it is a question of what _should_ be said. If the findings of -science are not to be made accessible, we must all find ourselves in the -position of Rousseau when he said that the renascence of the arts and -sciences had not ennobled morals. Isn’t that almost as true now as then? -A week ago, as I write, a young man named Roswell Smith was hanged in -Chicago for having strangled a four-year-old girl. He had no -recollection of the murder, and his father’s testimony brought out the -fact that the boy had always been epileptic. Since he must die for his -“crime”—oh, the heart-breaking tragedy of his quiet acceptance of that -hellish law!—Smith begged that he be allowed to die under the knife, so -that at least humanity might benefit by an examination of his brain. -But, no—he must be _hanged_: Justice must be done, the public wrath -appeased, the penalty held up to other criminals, prevention enforced -again by methods which don’t prevent! The governor, unwilling to risk -public indignation, salved his conscience by the testimony of one -alienist who pronounced Smith “sane.” And so the boy paid the penalty, -to the accompaniment of Psalms and readings from the Word—the “_Light_ -of the world!” ... And sixty people watched the murder and not a voice -was raised in protest. Think of it!—or rather don’t think of it unless -you are willing to lose your mind with horror and shame. - -How far have we _advanced_ when things like this can still happen among -us? With us love is just as punishable as murder or robbery. Mrs. Ellis -knows the workings of our courts; she knows of boys and girls, men and -women, tortured or crucified every day _for their love_—because it is -not expressed according to conventional morality. All this was part of -her responsibility on February 4th; and this is why I say she failed. - - - - - The Acrobat - - - ELOISE BRITON - - Poised like a panther on a bough - He swings and leaps. - His taut body flashes clear, - And in a long blue arc cuts the hushed air - Tense as a cry. - The keen, sharp wind of Death - Blows after like his shadow, and I feel - A strange beast stir in me. - I almost wish - That which I cannot think, - A scream, a falling body ... - A new thrill! - - But he shoots onward, arms outstretched - To clutch at life as it speeds past. - His hands grip vise-like; - With a wrench - That half uproots his fingers, he has caught, - And airily - He twists about the bar - And comes to rest. - - Sidewise he sits, and carelessly - High up among the winds, - His taut body - Grown lax and restful. - He smiles— - As a vain child, pleased with himself, he smiles, - While our applause comes up - Like incense. - He breathes a moment deeply. - Then again the supple form grows tense, - All wire, all vibrant, - Poised for one tingling breath - Before another flight. - - I watch him - And a quick desire comes over me - Of those slim hips, - Those long! clean! slender limbs - That stand for health, and for the sheer - Keen beauty of the body. - I desire him. - And I desire the spirit of the man, - The bodily fearlessness, - The reckless courage in a swaddled age. - I desire him. - How lithe and firm would be the child - Of such a man.... - - - - - A Young American Poet - - - RICHARD ALDINGTON - -It is the defect of English, and in a lesser degree of American, -criticism that such criticisms as are not merely commercial are -doctrinaire. The critic, that is to say, comes to judge a work of art -not with an open mind but with a whole horde of prejudices, ignorances, -and eruditions which he terms “critical standards.” “A work of art,” you -can hear him say, “must be this, must be that, must be the other,” when -indeed a work of art may well be no such thing. Just now the cry is all -for “modernity,” for lyrical outbursts in praise of machinery, of -locomotion, and of violence. And the “critics” obediently fill their -minds with these prejudices until at length you discover them solemnly -declaring that a work of art has no value except it treat of machinery, -of locomotion or of kindred subjects! I have yet to find the critic who -approaches his job in the right spirit; who asks himself first, What has -the artist attempted to do?, and then, Has he succeeded? The commercial -critic is of course the more reprehensible; the doctrinaire critic is -nevertheless a serious menace to that liberty of the arts of which one -cannot be too jealous. In England especially the doctrinaire critic -reigns. Yesterday it was all Nietzsche; then Bergson; now there is a -wild fight between a dozen “isms,” combats between traditional imbeciles -and revolutionary imbeciles. So that one spends half one’s time becoming -an “ist” and the rest of the time in getting rid of the title. - -The neglect of the poems of the young American poet—H. D.—who is the -subject of this article, is due, I think to the following facts. The -author, who apparently possesses a great degree of self-criticism, -produces a very small bulk of work and most of it is lost in magazines; -such work as attained publicity was judged, before being read, from its -surroundings; the work being original, seemed obscure and wantonly -destructive of classic English models (you must remember that there are -very, very few people in England who have the faintest idea of what is -meant by vers libre); the use of initials rather frightened people; and -the author had no friends among the professional critics. - -Now America has this advantage over most European countries that its -inhabitants are mostly willing to accept a fresh view of things. The -lack of a “tradition” has advantages as well as disadvantages. An -American author, then, is less likely to see things in a conventional -way, and is less likely to be deterred from any novel and personal -method of expression. (For in 1911, when H. D. began to write the poems -I am considering, vers libre was practically unheard of outside France.) - -If I were asked to define the chief quality of H. D.’s work I should -say: “I can only explain it by a paradox; it is a kind of accurate -mystery.” And I should go on to quote the ballad of Sir Patric Spens in -which from a cloudy, vague, obscure atmosphere, where nothing is -precise, where there is no “story,” no obvious relation between the -ideas, certain objects stand out very sharply and clearly with a very -keen effect, objects like “the bluid-red wine,” “the braid letter,” the -young moon in the old moon’s arms, and the ladies with “their fans intil -their hands.” And then I should go on to say that this “accurate -mystery” came from the author’s brooding over—not locomotives and -machinery—but little corners of gardens, a bit of a stream in some -Pennsylvanian meadow, from memories of afternoons along the New Jersey -coast, or of a bowl of flowers. Curious, mysterious, rather obscure sort -of broodings with startling and very accurate renderings of detail. And -then I should explain the author’s use of Hellenic terms and of the -rough unaccented metres of Attic choruses and Melic lyrics—like those -fragments of Alcaeus and Ibycus and Erinna—by pointing out that it is in -those poems—the choruses in the Bacchae, for example—that this -particular kind of brooding over nature found its best expression. - -Let me quote a portion of a poem to illustrate these qualities: the -quality which I have called “accurate mystery,” the quality of brooding -over nature and the quality of spontaneous kinship with certain aspects -of Hellenic poetry. I take it that, if one liked to be specifically -modern the poem could be called “Wind on the New Jersey Coast.” But the -author’s innate sense of mystery, of aloofness, just like that of the -anonymous author of Sir Patric Spens, makes her place the action in some -vague, distant place and time. Though it be contrary to current opinion -I hold that the poem gains by this. - - - HERMES OF THE WAYS - - The hard sand breaks, - And the grains of it are clear as wine. - - Far off over the leagues of it, - The wind, - Playing on the wide shore, - Piles little ridges, - And the great waves break over it. - - But more than the many-foamed ways - Of the sea, - I know him - Of the triple path-ways, - Hermes, - Who awaiteth. - - Dubious, - Facing three ways, - Welcoming wayfarers, - He whom the sea-orchard shelters from the west, - From the east - Weathers sea-wind; - Fronts the great dunes. - - Wind rushes - Over the dunes, - And the coarse, salt-crusted grass - Answers. - - Heu, - It whips round my ankles!—etc., etc. - -I am not willing to have that poem read quickly and cursorarily, as one -reads a column of newspaper print. It must be read with some of the -close, intense attention with which it was written. Each word and phrase -were most carefully considered and arranged. The reader must remember -that the object of such writing is not to convey information but to -create in the reader a mood, an emotion, a sense of atmosphere. Mr. -Yeats is right when he complains that newspapers have spoiled our sense -of poetry; we expect poetry to tell us some piece of news, and indeed -poetry has no news to tell anyone. Its object is simply to arouse an -emotion, and no emotion is ever aroused in a person who skims through a -piece of poetry as he skims through a journal. - -When I read that poem I have evoked in me a picture—like a picture of -Courbet or Boudin—of a white sea roaring on to yellow sands under a -bright sky, with the wind sweeping and whistling in the dunes. And I -have a feeling that it is a magic sort of picture, of somewhere a great -way off, where it would not surprise me to find the image of a god at -the cross-roads, with the offerings of simple people about the pedestal. -And at the same time I always remember bathing from some sand-dunes near -Rye, in Sussex, on a very windy afternoon, when the sand blinded me and -the sharp grass cut my ankles as I ran down to the water. - -I cannot, of course, tell what sort of an effect such writing has on -other people. It may be that I am especially sensitive to it. But let me -quote another of the author’s poems, conveying a totally different mood. - - - SITALKAS - - Thou art come at length - More beautiful than any cool god - In a chamber under Lycia’s far coast, - Than any high god who touches us not - Here in the seeded grass. - Aye, than Argestes, - Scattering the broken leaves. - -If you ask me to say precisely what that “means” I could only explain it -in this way. When I read that poem I experience the emotions I should -expect to receive if I were lying in a sunny meadow on some hot late -September afternoon—somewhere far inland, where there would be a great -silence broken very gently by the rustle of the heavy headed grass and -by the stir of falling beech leaves—somewhere so far inland, somewhere -so hot, that it would come as a shock of delighted surprise to think of -a “cool god in a chamber under Lycia’s far coast.” It does not annoy me -that I have never been to Lycia, that I have no more idea who Sitalkas -and Argestes were than who Sir Patric Spens was; it is all one; I get my -impression just the same, which, I take it, is what the author aimed at. -And indeed the odd unknown names give it a very agreeable sense of -mystery and of aloofness. - -Such are some of the qualities of the work of the young American who -hides her identity under the initials H. D. I believe her work is quite -unknown in America, though, before the war, I remember seeing some -comment on it in a French literary paper. It was in another French -review that a critic complained that this author was not interested in -aeroplanes and factory chimneys. Somehow I feel quite coldly about -factory chimneys when I read sudden intense outbursts of poetry like -those I have quoted and like this: - - The light of her face falls from its flower - As a hyacinth, - Hidden in a far valley, - Perishes upon burnt grass. - - - - - Editorials and Announcements - - - _On Criticism_ - -There is something particularly delightful to me in reviewing John -Cowper Powys’s book, _Visions and Revisions_, in THE LITTLE REVIEW. For -Mr. Powys, though quite unconscious of it, was one of the main -inspirations behind the coming-to-be of this magazine. Two years ago we -heard him lecture on Pater and Arnold and came from that rite -determined, if possible, to reflect something of his attitude, his -critical appreciation, in a magazine. I remember the thrill of it very -vividly: “_That is criticism!_” we said. And so I am going to let Mr. -Powys speak for us by quoting almost the entire preface from his new -volume with its critical essays on Rabelais, Dante, Shakespeare, El -Greco, Milton, Lamb, Arnold, Shelley, Keats, Nietzsche, Hardy, -Dostoevsky, Poe, and others. I am sure that, as THE LITTLE REVIEW’S -godfather, he will not mind being quoted so at length: - -“Most books of critical essays take upon themselves with unpardonable -effrontery, to weigh and judge from their own petty suburban pedestal, -the great Shadows they review. It is an insolence! How should Professor -This, or Doctor That, whose furthest adventures of ‘dangerous living’ -have been squalid philanderings with their neighbors’ wives, bring an -Ethical Synthesis to bear that shall put Shakespeare and Hardy, Milton -and Rabelais, into appropriate niches? - -“Every critic has a right to his own Aesthetic Principles, to his own -Ethical Convictions; but when it comes to applying these in tiresome, -pedantic agitation, to Edgar Allan Poe and Charles Lamb, we must beg -leave to cry off! What we want is not the formulating of new Critical -Standards, and the dragging in of the great masters before our last -miserable Theory of Art. What we want is an honest, downright and quite -_personal_ articulation, as to how these great things in literature -really hit us when they find us for the moment natural and off our -guard—when they find us as men and women, and not as ethical -gramophones.... - -“There is an absurd notion going about, among those half-educated people -who frequent Ethical Platforms, that Literary Criticism must be -‘constructive.’ O that word ‘constructive’! How, in the name of the -mystery of genius, can criticism be anything else than an idolatry, a -worship, a metamorphosis, a love affair! The pathetic mistake these -people make is to fancy that the great artists only lived and wrote in -order to buttress up such poor wretches as they are upon the particular -little, thin, cardboard platform which is at present their moral -security and refuge. - -“No one has a right to be a critic whose mind cannot, with Protean -receptivity, take first one form and then another, as the great Spells, -one by one, are thrown and withdrawn. - -“Who wants to know what Professor So-and-So’s view of life may be? We -want to use Professor So-and-so as a Mirror, as a Medium, as a -Go-Between, as a Sensitive Plate, so that we may once more get the -thrill of contact with this or that dead Spirit. He must keep his -temperament, our Critic; his peculiar angle of receptivity, his capacity -for personal reaction. But it is the reaction of his own natural nerves -that we require, not the pallid, second-hand reaction of his tedious, -formulated opinions. Why cannot he see that, as a natural man, -physiologically, nervously, temperamentally, pathologically different -from other men, he is an interesting spectacle, as he comes under the -influence first of one great artist and then another, while as a silly, -little, preaching school-master, he is only a blot upon the -world-mirror!... - -“It is because so many of us are so limited in our capacity for -‘variable reaction’ that there are so few good critics. But we are all, -I think, more multiple-souled than we care to admit. It is our foolish -pride of consistency, our absurd desire to be ‘constructive’ that makes -us so dull. A critic need not necessarily approach the world from the -‘pluralistic’ angle; but there must be something of such ‘pluralism’ in -his natural temper, or the writers he can respond to will be very few! - -“Let it be plainly understood. It is impossible to respond to a great -genius half way. It must be all or nothing. If you lack the courage, or -the variability, to _go all the way_ with very different masters, and to -let your constructive consistency take care of itself, you may become, -perhaps, an admirable moralist; you will never be a Clairvoyant critic. -All this having been admitted, it still remains that one has a right to -draw out from the great writers one loves certain universal aesthetic -tests, with which to discriminate between modern productions. - -“But even such tests are personal and relative. They are not to be -foisted on one’s readers as anything ‘ex cathedra’. One such test is the -test of what has been called ‘the grand style’—that grand style against -which, as Arnold says, the peculiar vulgarity of our race beats in vain! -I do not suppose I shall be accused of perverting my devotion to the -‘grand style’ into an academic ‘narrow way,’ through which I would force -every writer I approach. Some most winning and irresistible artists -never come near it. - -“And yet—what a thing it is! And with what relief do we return to it, -after the ‘wallowings’ and ‘rhapsodies,’ the agitations and -prostitutions, of those who have it not. - -“And what are the elements, the qualities, that go to make up this -‘grand style’? - -“Let me first approach the matter negatively. There are certain things -that _cannot_—because of something essentially ephemeral in them—be -dealt with in the grand style. - -“Such are, for instance, our modern controversies about the problem of -Sex. We may be Feminists or Anti-Feminists—what you will—and we may be -able to throw interesting light on these complicated relations, but we -cannot write of them, either in prose or poetry, in the grand style, -because the whole discussion is ephemeral; because, with all its -gravity, it is irrelevant to the things that ultimately matter! - -“Such, to take another example, are our elaborate arguments about the -interpretation, ethical or otherwise, of Christian Doctrine. We can be -very entertaining, very moral, very eloquent, very subtle, in this -particular sphere; but we cannot deal with it in the ‘great style,’ -because the permanent issues that really count lie out of reach of such -discussion and remain unaffected by it. - -“Let me make myself quite clear. Hector and Andromache can talk to one -another of their love, of their eternal parting, of their child, and -they can do this in the great style; but if they fell into dispute over -the particular sex conventions that existed in their age, they might be -attractive still, but they would not be uttering words in the ‘great -style’.... - -“The test is always that of Permanence, and of immemorial human -association. It is, at bottom, nothing but human association that makes -the great style what it is. Things that have, for centuries upon -centuries, been associated with human pleasures, human sorrows, and the -great recurrent dramatic moments of our lives, can be expressed in this -style; and only such things. The great style is a sort of organic, -self-evolving work of art, to which the innumerable units of the great -human family have all put their hands. That is why so large a portion of -what is written in the great style is anonymous—like Homer and much of -the Bible and certain old ballads and songs. It is for this reason that -Walter Pater is right when he says that the important thing in Religion -is the Ceremony, the Litany, the Ritual, the Liturgical Chants, and not -the Creeds or the Commandments, or discussion upon Creed or -Commandment.... Why, of all the religious books in the world, have ‘the -Psalms of David,’ whether in Hebrew or Latin or English, touched men’s -souls and melted and consoled them? They are not philosophical. They are -not logical. They are not argumentative. They are not moral. And yet -they break our hearts with their beauty and appeal! - -“It is the same with certain well-known _words_. Is it understood, for -instance, why the word ‘Sword’ is always poetical and in ‘the grand -style,’ while the word ‘Zeppelin’ or ‘Submarine’ or ‘Gatling gun’ or -‘Howitzer’ can only be introduced by Free Versifiers, who let the ‘grand -style’ go to the Devil? The word ‘Sword,’ like the word ‘Plough,’ has -gathered about it the human associations of innumerable centuries, and -it is impossible to utter it without feeling something of their pressure -and their strain. The very existence of the ‘grand style’ is a protest -against any false views of ‘progress’ and ‘evolution.’ Man may alleviate -his lot in a thousand directions; he may build up one Utopia after -another; but the grand style will remain; will remain as the ultimate -expression of those aspects of his life that _cannot change_—while he -remains Man.... - -“There are a certain number of solitary spirits moving among us who have -a way of troubling us by their aloofness from our controversies, our -disputes, our arguments, our ‘great problems.’ We call them Epicures, -Pagans, Heathen, Egoists, Hedonists, and Virtuosos. And yet not one of -these words exactly fits them. What they are really doing is living in -the atmosphere and the temper of ‘the grand style’—and that is why they -are so irritating and so provocative! To them the most important thing -in the world is to realize to the fullest limit of their consciousness -what it means to be born a Man. The actual drama of our mortal -existence, reduced to the simplest terms, is not enough to occupy their -consciousness and their passion. In this sphere—in the sphere of the -‘inevitable things’ of human life—everything becomes to them a -sacrament. Not a Symbol—be it noted—but a Sacrament! The food they eat; -the wine they drink; their waking and sleeping; the hesitancies and -reluctancies of their devotions; the swift anger of their recoils and -retreats; their long loyalties; their savage reversions; their sudden -‘lashings out’; their hate and their love and their affection; the -simplicities of these everlasting moods are in all of us—become, every -one of them, matters of sacramental efficiency. To regard each day, as -it dawns, as a ‘last day,’ and to make of its sunrise, of its noon, of -its sun-setting, a rhythmic antiphony to the eternal gods—this is to -live in the spirit of the ‘grand style.’ It has nothing to do with -‘right’ or ‘wrong.’ Saints may practise it, and sometimes do. Sinners -often practise it. The whole thing consists in growing vividly conscious -of those moods and events which are permanent and human, as compared -with those other moods and events which are transitory and unimportant. - -“When a man or woman experiences desire, lust, hate, jealousy, devotion, -admiration, passion, they are victims of the eternal forces, that can -speak, if they will, in ‘the great style.’ When a man or woman ‘argues’ -or ‘explains’ or ‘moralizes’ or ‘preaches,’ they are the victims of -accidental dust-storms, which rise from futility and return to vanity. -That is why Rhetoric, as Rhetoric, can never be in the great style. That -is why certain great revolutionary Anarchists, those who have the genius -to express in words their heroic defiance of ‘the something rotten in -Denmark,’ move us more, and assume a grander outline, than the equally -admirable, and possibly more practical, arguments of the Scientific -Socialists. It is the eternal appeal we want, to what is basic and -primitive and undying in our tempestuous human nature! - -“The grand style announces and commands. It weeps and it pleads. It -utters oracles and it wrestles with angels. It never apologizes; it -never rationalizes; and it never explains. That is why the great -ineffable passages in the supreme masters take us by the throat and -strike us dumb. Deep calls unto Deep in them, and our heart listens and -is silent. To ‘do good scientific thinking’ in the cause of humanity has -its well-earned reward; but the gods ‘throw incense’ on a different -temper. The ‘fine issues’ that reach them, in their remoteness and -disdain, are the ‘fine issues’ of an antagonist worthy of their own -swift wrath, their own swift vengeance, and their own swift love.... - -“Beauty! That is what we all, even the grossest of us, in our heart of -hearts is seeking. Lust seeks it; Love creates it; the miracle of Faith -finds it—but nothing less, neither truth nor wisdom nor morality nor -knowledge, neither progress nor reaction, can quench the thirst we -feel.” - - - _A Benefit Recital_ - -The sonata recital of Josephine Gerwing and Carol Robinson on March 7 is -to be a benefit for THE LITTLE REVIEW. Our gratitude is so deep that we -can’t even begin to express it. But you will not be so interested in our -gratitude as in our taste: we know both these musicians and we know that -whoever comes to them for _music_ will not go away empty. It will be -beautiful. The program is on page 59. Tickets are on sale at 917 Fine -Arts Building. - - - _More Nietzsche_ - -Dr. Foster’s series of Nietzsche articles will be continued in the next -issue. - - - - - Ten Grotesques - - - ARTHUR DAVISON FICKE - - - I. WHY WOMEN HATE ARTISTS - - Thanks, belovèd; here’s your pay. - Now get you quickly out of the way. - For there are many more things to do; - And all my pictures can’t image you. - - - II. THE PRUDENT LOVER - - I dreamed a song of a wild, wild love - And purposed to follow her flying hair, - Singing my music, through vale and grove, - Till dusk met the hills—and I clasped her there. - - But—mumbling ancient I have become!— - I sang two staves, and then gave o’er; - And carried my song with prudence home; - And nailed it as motto above my door. - - Now, the angels in heaven will crown me with bays; - And give me a golden trumpet to blow - When at last I die, full of virtuous days ... - But my wild, wild love—will she ever know? - - - III. A POETRY-PARTY - - Fronting a Dear Child and an Infamy - You sat; and watched, with dusk-on-the-mountain eyes, - The marching river of the beer go by, - Alert in vain for a band-crash of surprise. - I also! Dawn, that in respectful way - Entered a-liveried, could no lightnings rouse - For which I watched; the calling-card of day - Flushed with no guilt your Hebridean brows. - Wherefore the Infamy and I went down - Into a street of windows high and blind. - His face, his tongue, his words, his soul, were brown. - But from a window lofty and left behind, - Like a silver trumpet over the gutter-dirt, - You waved!—(I know not what; perhaps a shirt.) - - - IV. PORTRAIT OF A SPIRITUALLY DISTURBED GENTLEMAN - - O piece of garbage rotting on a rug,— - To what a final ending hast thou come! - Art thou predestined fodder of a bug? - Shalt thou no more behold thy Dresden home? - When green disintegration works its last - Ruin, and all thy atoms writhe and start, - Shall no frilled-paper memories from the past - Drift spectral down the gravy of thy heart? - Can the cold grease from off the dirty plate - Make thee forget the ice-box of thy prime, - And soon, among the refuse-cans, thy fate - Blot out the gay fork-music of old time? - Ah well! all music has its awkward flats— - And after all, there are the alley-cats! - - - V. PORTRAIT OF THE INCOMPARABLE JOHN COWPER POWYS, ESQ. - - When first the rebel hosts were hurled - From heaven,—and as they downward sped - Flashed by them world on glimmering world - Like mileposts on that road of dread,— - - One ruined angel by strange chance - On earth lit stranded with spent wing. - There, when revived, he took his stance - In slightly battered triumphing. - - And still he stands; though lightning-riven, - More riotous than ere he fell,— - Upon his brow the lights of heaven - Mixed with a foregleam out of hell. - - - VI. TO AN OUTRAGEOUS PERSON - - God forgive you, O my friend! - For, be sure, men never will. - Their most righteous wrath shall bend - Toward you all the strokes of ill. - - You are outcast—Who could bear, - Laboring dully, to behold - That glad carelessness you wear, - Dancing down the sunlight’s gold? - - Who, a self-discovered slave, - As the burdens on him press, - Could but curse you, arrant knave, - For your crime of happiness? - - All the dogmas of our life - Are confuted by your fling,— - Taking dullness not to wife, - But with wonder wantoning. - - All the good and great of earth, - Prophecying your bad end, - Sourly watch you dance in mirth - Up the rainbow, O my friend! - - - VII. IN A BAR ROOM - - Across the polished board, wet and ashine, - Appalling incantations late have passed.— - For some, the mercy of dull anodyne; - For others, hope destined an hour to last. - Here has been sold courage to lift the weak - That they embrace a great and noble doom. - Here some have bought a clue they did not seek - Into the wastes of an engulfing gloom. - And amorous tears, and high indignant hate, - Laughter, desires, passions, and hopes, and rest,— - The drunkard’s sleep, the poet’s shout to fate,— - All from these bottles filled a human breast! - Magician of the apron! Let us see— - What is that draught you are shaking now for me? - - - VIII. THE DEVIL AMONG THE TAILORS - - They groaned—“His aims are not as ours.” - He mused—“What end to mortal powers?” - - They urged—“Your fair ideals have fled.” - He smiled.—“The living tramp the dead!” - - They told him—“You have done a wrong!” - He asked—“Which is my faulty song?” - - They cried—“Your life lies wrecked and vain!” - He laughed.—“That shell? Pray, look again!” - - They shrieked—“Go forth! An outcast be!” - He answered—“Thanks. You make me free!” - - - IX. THE NEWEST BELIEVER - - Through his sick brain the shrieking bullet stormed, - Wrecking the chambers of his spirit’s state. - The gleam that brightened and the glow that warmed - Those arrassed halls sank quenched and desolate. - Out of the balefully enfolding mesh, - Life he would free from dominance of evil; - And purpose deeper than the weak-willed flesh - Bade him renounce the world, the flesh, the devil. - And as I looked upon his shattered face - Hideously fronting me in that dark room, - I saw the Prophets of the Church take place - Beside him,—they who dared the nether gloom - For worlds of life or silence far away, - So hated they the evil of their day. - - - X. SONG OF A VERY SMALL DEVIL - - He who looks in golden state - Down from ramparts of high heaven, - Knows he any turn of fate, - It must be of evil given— - He perhaps shall wander late - Downward through the luminous gate. - - He who makes himself a gay - Dear familiar of things evil,— - In some deepest tarn astray, - Close-companioned of the Devil,— - He can nowhere turn his way - Save up brighter slopes of day. - - Plight it is, yet clear to see. - Hence take solace of your sinning. - As ye sink unfathomably, - Heaven grows ever easier winning. - Therefore ye who saved would be, - Come and shake a leg with me! - - - - - A New Standard of Art Criticism and a Significant Artist - - - HUNTLEY CARTER - -It has been clear to me for some time that a new standard of art -criticism is needed to assist the present-day revaluation of Art. A -constant examination of advanced pictures has shown me that the key to -revaluation resides in the ultimate effect attained by the new -“masters.” In studying this effect I have become aware of certain facts. -(1) The effect is one of solid motion at a greater intensity than is -found in actuality. It is solid motion actually exaggerated. (By solid -motion, I mean motion expressed by actual forms.) (2) The greater the -intensity the more it tends to obliterate actuality. (3) There is a -fluid motion behind phenomena. This motion informs phenomena but loses -its intensity when it becomes phenomenalized. It changes its character -from fluid motion to solid motion, as though undergoing a process of -conversion similar to that by which water is frozen into ice. (4) The -meaning of the attainment of the said effect would therefore seem to be -that solid motion, as expressed by artists, is being melted into fluid -motion, as ice is melted into water, and water is, in turn, converted -into steam. Moreover, the solid motion is being melted by the higher -intensity of the fluid motion. In other words fluid motion is converting -solid motion into its own flow, or that from whence solid motion came. -The conclusion is that the quest for intensity is a sign that artists -are awakening to a feeling for fluid motion behind solids. - -Perhaps artists are becoming purer mediums. It is conceivable that the -revolt against academic formulae and the consequent movement towards -neo-primitivism, have had a refining influence. In ridding artists of -certain forms of culture and convention, they have removed inner -obstacles to the intense stream-line flow or fluid motion, and have made -them accessible to the motion itself. Hence the present-day pursuit of -abstraction in painting and the tendency of representative forms (i. e.: -solids) to disappear from the canvas and to be replaced by -non-representative forms (i. e.: fluids). As an example I may point to -the shadowy forms pursued by Kandinsky. It is true that many of -Kandinsky’s studies do not contain evidence of fluid motion working -freely through the artist and tracing its own designs on his canvas. In -his earlier studies he certainly expresses solids. He puts down forms -which the conventional memory recognizes as having a relation to the -known, and thereby defeats his own object. But his recent studies -exhibit a refining away of solids and a larger feeling for fluidity, -that leads one to believe the artist is striving for a true dream-like -state in which the fluid motion is left to express itself at its own -degree of intensity. Whether he will ever attain this state is uncertain -as yet, especially in view of the intellectual attitude of his writings. -In _Spiritual Harmony_, for instance, he is seen working out a scheme of -color thus showing he hopes to produce an effect upon the spectator by -the use of a mathematical formula. He has evidently conceived the theory -that certain colors are equivalent to certain emotions and by adding or -subtracting color he can add or subtract an emotion to or from the -spectator. Thus yellow equals joy, but add red to the yellow and the -effect will be joy tinged with passion. In this way the fluid motion -actuating Kandinsky is bound to be subjected to theoretical treatment -instead of being left free to do its own work. The emotion of joy in -passing through the painter on its way to the spectator will be -subjected to mental checks, with the result that it will be deprived of -its greatest value in its original intensity. - -The study of the aforementioned facts led me in turn to new views on -Art, (a) as to the origin and nature of Art, (b) as to the order, -intelligibility, and coherence that exist in the natural manifestations -of Art, (c) as to the law of growth and progression to be applied to art -forms, (d) as to the illumination of this law by a proper standard of -criticism. Accordingly I came to see that Art is a potential creative -movement in space. It first exists in the fluid motions of the universe -and ultimately in a work of art only as the inevitable and efficient -expression of itself through a specially adapted medium called the -artist. In a metaphysical sense, Art may be said to be a spiritual -experience capable of assuming visibility. But it becomes visible only -by a process of debasement. Apparently, as I have said, the fluid motion -in which Art expresses itself loses its intensity and becomes solid -motion in the process of conversion into a work of art, as applied by -all civilized artists (as far as we know) up to the present day. In -fact, it is only recent years that have witnessed the discovery by the -artist of the fluid motion potential in solid motion. Cezanne, Gauguin, -and Van Gogh were among the first of the moderns to arrive at the point -of realizing this potential character. All three were actively engaged -in the refining of solids and suggesting their potential ultimate -fluidity. What they actually did was this. They demonstrated that Art is -a fluid motion seeking to produce an ultimate creative effect upon the -spectator through efficient application, and that fluid motion can only -produce its creative effect as fluid motion. Now, largely owing to -blindness or wrong direction, artists, with rare exceptions, have -hitherto concerned themselves with converting fluid motion into various -forms of solid motion. They have in fact stopped at the expression of -representative forms of nature and human life, apparently unconscious -that in doing so they were not completing the expression of the art -flow, but were stopping at a half-way house, so to speak, where of -course the maximum creative effect could not be produced. Before this -effect can be produced it is necessary to complete the journey by -reconverting the solids into fluid motion. It cannot be said that either -Cezanne, Van Gogh, or Gauguin completed the magic journey. But if they -did not refine away the solids in their canvases and set them going as -fluid motion, if they put down forms recognizable as houses, men, trees, -and so on, they certainly exhibited such forms undergoing a process of -melting. In Van Gogh’s canvases the forms are simply being melted by the -fierce internal intensity to which the artist is subjecting them. Van -Gogh, perhaps more than any of his contemporaries, shows us known forms -in the act of being converted into their original fluid motion. And it -is for this reason, I think, Van Gogh’s pictures produce a greater -creative effect upon the spectator than any merely representative forms -of art. We experience in them a rush of liberated energy due to the -change from solidity to fluidity. - -So much for the new conception of the origin and nature of Art. With -regard to the principles by which Art moves towards its ultimate effect, -I believe they are analogous to those by which an unseen agency assumes -visibility in natural forms. There is the same order, intelligibility, -and coherence throughout. Corresponding to the invariable order of -growth and progression in a plant as represented by the seed (enclosing -the life and unifying principle) stem, branches, leaves and fruit, is -the order of ascent, or perhaps it should be descent, by which Art takes -concrete form. First there is the initial flow, then the root-point -answering to the seed or unifying principle, then follow in turn, lines, -planes, and solids. The fruit and the solids appear to be the -culmination of the initial flow, but really they contain a potential -power of growth in a realizable fluid motion. This abstract motion has -ever since the start been descending and slackening into solid motion, -and its forms have become more and more concrete as they attained -actuality. Behind these actual forms, it is clear, there is the -potentiality of further movement and growth which in our limited state -of intelligence we conceive of as realisable only on the original lines. -If there is an infinite growth and development inherent in actual forms -very few persons are aware of it. Indeed most persons are aware only of -particular growth. To them growth begins with the seed and stops with -the fruit or its art expression as fruit, and the only form of -continuation is to be found in repetition. The old process must be -repeated from seed to fruit. According to this view the phenomena of -growth as expressed by art-forms is manifested in a succession of -parallel movements and not in one continuous and ever-expanding -movement. Generally speaking, things are transferred to canvas as they -appear, particular solids, not infinite fluids as they are. If they have -a life principle in them it is carefully concealed, for they suggest no -power of infinite growth. It would seem indeed as though art-expression, -during civilized times, has reached a deadlock. For it is noticeable -that throughout all the great periods of art-expression, artists have -expressed the same things. In the canvases of the old masters a flow of -solids manifests itself with depressing regularity. Time, one might -think, would have lifted the soul of the artist out of solid space. But, -as we know, the feverish desire to express a too solid world has not -grown less till of recent years. It may be due to this deadlock that art -criticism has seldom risen above mediocrity. How indeed could it reach -the highest creative achievement of the critical mind if works of art -lack the creative principle to be judged? The creative critic cannot -possibly build his house of illumination without the essential -fundamental materials. And these the artist must provide. He cannot -illuminate the non-existent. And if there are no creative elements to -work upon criticism is bound to fall and remain far below the creative -standard. It will be uncertain and chaotic in its judgments. History -says it is so, and not without proof. It shows us that the art judgment -of one age has been sufficient to reverse the art judgment of a previous -age. Yet Art itself does not change. If it is badly expressed at any -time it is badly expressed for all time. Therefore the said fluctuating -judgment has but one interpretation. It means that the judgment itself -is at fault, and much of the art criticism to which art critics have -given utterance is worthless. The reason is apparent. Art criticism is -not based upon a fundamental principle. There is no established law of -art criticism. - -Of course I shall be told there is no such law to establish, because it -does not exist and never will exist. The art critic has been and will -continue to be guided by his conscious experience. And as such -experience varies from age to age, so judgment founded upon it varies -also. But a statement so independent of common sense is plainly -nonsense. The law to which I refer is within the critic just as it is -within the artist. It does not always operate because it is not allowed -to do so. It is hindered by conscious experience. Actually the law is -the artist, and if left to itself it would make an efficient application -of itself to produce the highest creative effect of which fluid motion -is capable. Such is the unconscious method of using the law. The artist -uses it not because he can or will but because he must. His picture -producing is a work that can only be done in one way, not by thought and -reason, not by compulsions and restraints, but through the livingness of -free energies left free to find their own expressions through their own -channels. His starting point, representing the seed of unity, is -sensibility, and feeling if left alone will do everything to unite all -parts of his vision, to bind and cement them together. The result would -remain as an example of organic growth not limited to solid space but -extended to a higher space as far as the emotional impulse in the artist -can be expressed by the limited means at his disposal. The question of -how far the artist can use solid (that is, dead) materials, paint -brushes, and canvas, to reach a transcendental effect (effect of -livingness) is one that I must leave for future consideration. - -In such a result would be found evidence not only that there is a great -principle or law by which art operates and reaches its highest mark -humanly possible, but that it remains constant and true in the sensible -artist and can be traced running through all he does. If further -evidence of the existence of the law is needed I can point to the -conscious use of it today by painters who are seeking to give the facts -of ordinary experience a non-representative character, as though -belonging to a world of abstraction. We know that Picasso is busy -converting everyday forms of his own contemporary surroundings into -rhythmic shape from which all clichés have been carefully eliminated. We -know too that other painters following the epoch-making example of John -D. Fergusson are boldly rhythmising the people and affairs of everyday -life as though convinced that the big unified rhythmic design is -symbolic of the intense movement by which Art moves and expresses -itself. We see in their canvases an obvious attempt to give the widest -expansion to the fundamental rhythm of each subject treated. At first -sight it appears to be a step in the right direction, one leading away -from the fallacy or blindness, which led the old masters to turn out -wonderful patchworks by giving each object in their canvases a -structural unity of its own. Indeed it looks as though these painters -have mastered the secret of binding a composition together by a unified -design springing from a central note that expands by spontaneous motion -till it not only fills the canvas but passes out of it on a very wide -sweep, and having order, intelligibility, and coherence in all its -parts. It looks as though they have discovered the great law of creative -organic unity of which I speak. Closer examination of their work, -however, reveals it is not so. For one thing their pictures are not -growths from small beginnings to great ends, each the successive sweep -of one curve expanding in oneness from a root-point. It is true that the -starting point in them may be feeling, as with the work of the -unconscious artist. But as soon as feeling has decided the start, -knowledge and reason decide the rest. They decide what shapes and colors -are to be selected and carefully related to the central shape and color. -If the character of the subject is zigzag then the composition will take -a zigzag course. If a sharp curve, then sharp curves will be gathered -from objects surrounding the central one and related to it. In fact the -law of association is called in and kept busy throughout. Everything in -a picture is consciously associated just as a builder associates the -materials of a house. Intuition is checked by reason. - -So we find one principle being applied alike by conscious and -unconscious methods. With this difference, that whereas the movement, -growth and unity attained by the unconscious method is organic that -reached by the conscious method is mechanical. It is the difference -between the natural growth of a plant and the artificial manufacture of -one. The first is a process whereby the life flow organizes itself. The -second a process of eliminating the life flow. The one is mediumistic -and spontaneous, the other is volitional and mechanical. - -What, it may be asked, is this principle or law? Briefly it is the law -of spiral growth and progression traceable in all natural phenomena. It -is a law which actuates human nature at its best and which shapes all -work done in the finer way. If we wish to see how it operates we cannot -do better than symbolize it in the form of a motion-curve starting from -a point in space and expanding in ever-widening curves. Thus: - -This law may be found completely applied to one picture or it may be -traced running through a succession of pictures, each a part of a -creative unity, the whole manifesting the growth and development curve -of the artist. In the first case the picture would have an organic unity -of its own. In it the fluid motion would be seen coming to fruition from -the initial point of feeling to its fullest statement as vision at the -highest pressure of fluid expression. Thus: - -In the second case, each period of the artist’s work represent a section -of the development-curve. By placing the sections together it is -possible to view his work as a whole and to construct the course of -development which he has undergone. And we can tell by the widest sweep -of the curve precisely where he stands and how much he has detached -himself from the world of solids. Thus: - -Needless to say, this motion-curve may be applied as a standard of -art-criticism. Indeed it is the business of art critics to experience -this curve in themselves and to apply it to all works of art. So far as -I know it has never been applied. When it is it will transform art -criticism. For it will enable the critic to judge whether a work is an -inevitable growth of a movement inherent in the artist,—and to value it -rightly and fully in its relation to this movement,—or whether it is -merely a bit of clever brain juggling. - -I have not time nor space to illustrate in minute detail the truth and -importance of the application of this law to art-forms. But I may take -one concrete instance of its existence and inevitableness, and of the -growth and progress that result whenever the artist happens to work -under its guidance. I have within recent months seen the existence of -this law and traced the course of its working in the studies of a new -and comparatively unknown comer in the world of painting. Here is a -painter, Clarence E. King by name, who is undoubtedly working out his -high destiny in terms of Art, at the bidding of a force to whose -direction he is willing to surrender himself. And he surrenders himself -not because he has no judgment, no discriminating sense of his own, but -because he believes that the true artist works without volition. I know -very little about Mr. King’s first experiences, but I can quite imagine -that art-expression came to him as a bewildered dream. Perhaps he felt -instinctively it was but an imaginary magician’s wand and the effect it -ever sought to produce was far above the limited measure of the artist’s -dead materials. It was an effect that could only be attained in one way, -not by stone, wood, or canvas, but by direct surrender to its -livingness. I remember once receiving a letter from Mr. King in which he -hinted at some such transcendental vision of Art and indicated its -difficulties—both aesthetic and economic. The latter will be seen to be -very real when I say that Mr. King is a poor man, that he has to engage -in a mechanical form of occupation which constantly opposes him with the -dread of losing guidance and his real purpose, and of falling under the -subjection of aims and methods entirely opposed to his own. From the -letter I learned that he began with a longing to attain the maximum -intensity of expression and he has ever since been impelled irresistibly -towards this end. But the path was not easy, for it seems he became -aware at an early period of the small measure of expression in the -painter’s dead materials. He relates how one day he took his colors into -the sun so that they should rival its livingness. But when he looked at -them (in the light of the sun) they were dead. Then he bought the most -expensive paint, he kept his palette clean, he slept in the open, -watched the sunrise, absorbed its magic, and prepared himself and his -materials in every way, as he thought, to express the fluid character of -the experience flowing through him. He grappled with powerful feelings -and sought to fix them in form. To no purpose. Apparently there was a -point beyond which paint, like words, could not go. The fault, however, -was not altogether in the materials. The artist too was to blame. He was -a boy strenuously striving to transcend representative forms. But in -doing so he neglected one thing. He made no attempt to escape from the -illusion of volume and solidity contained in solid space. In other words -he tried to transcend solids by the process of merely copying solids. He -tried to express the eternal livingness of a tree by painting an -ephemeral tree. This is the meaning underlying the earliest example of -his work. It accounts for the expression of representative forms very -slightly raised above actuality. In the second example the next upward -sweep of the curve is apparent. The pursuit of the maximum intensity of -expression is maintained, with the result that there is a further escape -into fluid motion. And actuality becomes very much exaggerated as by a -hand that feels the stimulating impulse which the steadily increasing -growth of an unknown power brings with it. Perhaps the most noticeable -characteristic of the second example is the attainment of a greater -freedom of expression. There is in consequence an increase of intensity, -and as intensity is the source of rhythm,—rhythm being but the natural -characteristic of what we call intensity—a greater manifestation of -rhythm. This rhythmic ascent, if I may call it so, marking the growth -and development of intense expression, is continued in the third -example. The illusion of volume and solidity to be found in the other -two examples is still noticeable. But the flow is at a far higher -pressure than in actuality, and if the painter is not yet fully afloat -on fluid motion, he is certainly moving in the desired direction. He is -in fact true to his widening curve. - -It is too early to predict what degree of intensity of effect Mr. King -will ultimately attain. He is still a young man with an enviable future -before him. And he approximates more and more towards an unconscious -method of expression. He applies the natural law of growth and -progression because he must. A time may come when he will take up his -pencil and trace a picture as in a trance simply at the bidding of the -inner flow called inner necessity. It is certainly hopeful that he has -remained up to the present a fairly pure medium, having escaped the -pollution of conventional art education. He turned to painting at the -urge of inner necessity and expressed himself in intense form and color -because such form and color were in him to express. The technical -characteristics of his work are really a part of himself. He expresses -everything with simplicity and freedom because they are characteristics -of his own nature. It should be said that he does not aim to produce the -so-called automatic work of art. There is nothing automatic in a fluid -force organizing itself by uniting itself to a medium that is really a -part of its own livingness. If the artist’s hands are guided by a -mysterious agency it is not a mechanical process any more than the -guiding of a plant into leaves, blossom, and fruit is one. The artist is -really guided by that which is a part of his higher self. He surrenders -himself to the guidance of a spirit which is his own, the spirit of Art. -And in doing so he achieves his highest destiny. For in the complete -surrender to Art lies the affirmation of Art. - - - - - My Friend The Incurable - - - V. - - WAR HALLUCINATIONS - - - _An interview with Mme. Truth_ - -I found her in an obscure corner of a wein-stube which bore the legend: -In vino veritas. She beckoned to me appealingly. “Mr. Incurable, will -you come and sit at my table? They all shun me nowadays; to associate -with me is considered _mauvais ton_. But you, I am sure, need not fear -for your reputation....” To be sure, my reputation could not suffer any -more, even if I committed patricide; so I went bravely to Madame’s -table, and ordered Rhine-wine and a neutrality sandwich à la Wilson -(caviar and Limburger dressed in petals of French roses); to complete -the expression of my loyalty to the President, I requested the national -hymns of all the belligerents, after which conscience-clearing ordeal I -turned to my companion. Her appearance was shocking; not even the clumsy -robe of Censor O’Connor’s cut could conceal her bruises and many-colored -insignia. “Madame,” I gallantly inquired, “whence these atrocities?” - -“These are love-tokens from the special war correspondents. Ah, dear, -since the death of Tolstoy I have had no true lover. You say, how about -Shaw? Well, George Bernard has championed me daringly, I admit; but I -can never tell whether he is in earnest or whether he makes use of me -for his clever jugglery. G. B. S. has made it his profession to say -unpopular things; how could he have overlooked such a rare stunt as -telling the truth in time of war? He is so very skilful in the gentle -art of making himself unpleasant to the majority that I am inclined to -believe he would readily betray me for my rival, Mlle. Lie, as soon as -she had lost her popularity. As for Maximilian Harden, you see, I am an -old flame of his; he has suffered prison and persecution for my sake, -the dear; do you remember the Eilenburg affair, when Maxie removed the -figments from Wilhelm’s bosom friends, and demonstrated that the “crime” -punishable in England with two years of Reading Gaol was freely -practiced by the august princes of Germany? O, he is a darling, -Monsieur; but, between us, he handles me too roughly, the bulldog. Think -of Bismarckian hugs and Kruppesque caresses! You see how hard it is to -please me as a lover: I am such a frail sweetheart.” - -I protested that I have never had the ambition of becoming her lover, -consequently I was in no need of her warning. Mme. Truth felt offended. - -“I shall get you yet. Wait till you grow older, when you will declare -from the house-tops your devotion for me. You do not think objectively, -Mr. Incurable, hence your numerous offences against me. With all your -endeavor to appear neutral, your anti-German feelings are transparent. -Why don’t you give ear to me occasionally? Think of a people generally -hated and envied, yet strong, successful, defiant. How can you help -admiring their wonderful achievements in the present war?” - -I rejoined that I could admire war as an art; that there was art in -Napoleon’s warfare, no matter whether he won or lost, no matter whether -it was St. Bernard or Waterloo; while the Germans are merely good -mathematicians, clever technicians; but I prefer Zimbalist’s artistic -flaws to the perfect technique of Albert Spalding, the craftsman. - -“You are hopelessly incurable, sir. Do you perceive that Germany has won -already? Whatever the outcome of the war, the Germans are the victors. -To be hated by all one must accomplish something meritorious. Surely the -Germans will emerge from the struggle forged with self-respect, -self-assurance, and contempt for the rest of the world. Surely they will -be spared the demoralizing influence of universal sympathy, which is so -atrociously showered upon poor Belgium. In their splendid isolation the -Teutons will achieve gigantic things; they may become a race of -supermen....” - -I hastened to order Moselwine and sauer-kraut. - - - _Shmah Yisroel_ - -There is an inmate in one of the Russian insane asylums at present, a -Jewish soldier who paces up and down his cell, continually groaning: -“Shmah Yisroel.” His story is simple. One night lying in the trenches on -the Prussian frontier, he observed an approaching grey figure, obviously -that of a German soldier. When the figure came close to the trenches, -the Jew leaped upon his foe and pierced him with the bayonet. The German -fell, moaning in agony: “Shmah Yisroel.” The two words have been -haunting the Russian since, until, they say, he lost his reason. - -It is a grave symptom for the Jews, when they begin to lose their reason -under the stress of tragedy; their very existence as a people is -imperiled, as soon as they show signs of normality, and fail to endure -grief and suffering. For what has kept the Eternal Ahasver so -wonderfully alive these two thousand years but his philosophical -defiance of seeming reality? “Shmah Yisroel,” “Hear, o Israel, the -Eternal is our God, the Lord is one,” has been the motto of the nation -through the long centuries of persecution, the pillar of fire on its -historical Golgotha; it has become the symbol of Judaism, the -coat-of-arms of the “Chosen People” who were destined to wander among -gentiles, to teach them the living word, and to be rewarded for the -instruction with hatred and contempt. - -“Shmah Yisroel” were the last defiant words of the Palestinian martyrs, -when tortured to death by the Syrian Hellenizers of the time of -Antiochus Epiphanes, who attempted the apparently easy task of -annihilating Judaism by the force of his mighty legions. “Shmah Yisroel” -cheerfully cried the Rabbis enwrapped in the scrolls of the Law, set -afire by the order of Emperor Adrian, “and their souls returned in -purity to their Creator,” relates the Agadah. “Shmah Yisroel” was the -cry that thundered amidst the blaze of the Auto-da-Fe set up by the -Spanish Inquisition ad maiorem Dei gloriam. Throughout the ages, -humiliated and offended, but inwardly proud, despising and forgiving -those “who knew not what they were doing,” the Jew marched his endless -road with his Motto as a talisman, as an invulnerable shield. Recently, -during the first decade of the twentieth century, the world heard once -more the cries of “Shmah Yisroel” piercing the air of Russia from end to -end, when Jewish men, women and children were slaughtered by -governmental hooligans in order to quench with the blood of Israel the -Revolution. - -Neither is the present great trial new for the indestructible people: -many battles have been fought, with Jews taking part on both sides. -There is a popular print in Germany, presenting the Jews of the -Kronprinz’s regiment praying on the day of Atonement before Sedan; a -grotesque mass of warriors entreating the Lord of peace to grant the -world eternal peace. What greater incongruity can be imagined than Jews -exterminating one another; what more terrible absurdity, than the -descendants of the prophets waging war, the descendants of Isaiah who -was the first to preach to the nations “to beat their swords into -ploughshares”! Yet the life of Israel in the last two thousand years has -been a continuous incongruity, an anomaly, a miracle; will this nation -collapse under the tragicness of the present situation? - -The Russian-Jewish soldier who lost his reason, because he failed to -understand the “Why” of his having killed his brother, a German-Jewish -soldier, is a grave symptom for the abnormal, supernormal people. Has -“Shmah Yisroel” ceased to serve as the all-answering formula, as the -justification of the impossible reality, as the invincible watch-word, -as the great stimulus to live on, to march on, ever forward, into the -unknown future? - - - _Bestialization_ - -The other day I received a deserved blow. A letter from the war-zone -reached me. Nothing but the handwriting told me that it was written by -an old friend of mine, a poet of exquisite sonnets—so rude was the -style, so dry and matter-of-fact the tone of my erstwhile elegant -correspondent. She cynically derided my glorification of the war as -Europe’s healthful purgatory, and spoke of death and want, cruel prosaic -want. Do we ever realize the actual stultifying, bestializing conditions -of the non-combatants under whizzing shells and roving aeroplanes? We, -the calm philosophizers, the curious spectators and speculators? Do we, -neutrals, envisage Death and Murder raging in a bacchanale over the -embroiled lands? Of all the war poems and sermons it was only Eunice -Tietjens who perceived the trans-Atlantic horrors in her prophetic -_Children of War_; the rest are cold, labored writings. Perhaps our -American diplomats, who are anything but diplomatic, will innocently -involve this country in the world mess, and our authors will be given a -fair test. - - IBN GABINOL. - - - - - New York Letter - - - GEORGE SOULE - -Now that the New York legislature has decided to submit the question of -woman suffrage to popular vote, we are being bored and sometimes -horrified by the revelations of a battle which most of us get into the -habit of thinking was fought and won long ago. That is the trouble with -many radicals. The investigation of new causes comes to mean with them -merely a process of personal salvation. A belief attained is taken as a -matter of course, as if there were nothing more to be done about it. -Even to mention it seems in bad taste—there are so many more important -things, so many more ecstatic attitudes. And then the world rumbles -along to it like some prehistoric monster, and we are caught unaware in -the midst of quarreling which seems to us beside the point. Have we not -discarded fighting machinery? Have we not thrown our siege guns on the -scrap heap? How rude of the unintelligent to disturb us! We are like the -pacificists who thought that war could be abolished by the mere act of -willing. We forget that mankind never wills all at once. We forget that -it is sometimes necessary to sacrifice our energy in the battle for a -distressingly old cause. Or else we never see the necessity, and damn -the naive volunteers with a supercilious smile of superior enlightenment -while we cuddle ourselves in the cotton wool of private emotions. We -offer them a new word as a reagent for all their difficulties. - -Who, for instance, could have imagined that _The New York Times_, mental -yokel though it is, could come out with a two-column editorial article -against suffrage on the ground that women are not fitted to vote because -they do not share men’s economic burdens? It must have been six months -ago at least that _The Times_ published a census report on its back page -showing that 30.6 per cent of all the females in New York over ten years -of age are engaged in gainful occupations. You would think census -statistics would be just the thing to attract the eye of that editorial -writer. But here the editorial is, like an unbelievable fossil come to -life. If it represented merely a Tory minority we could afford to laugh -and wait for its partisans to die. It represents, however, the astute -judgment of _The Times_ as to what several hundred thousand people in -New York city really think. The big newspaper cannot afford to try -leading public opinion. It must agree with as many people of buying -capacity as possible. And here we are again, face to face with a blind, -stupid majority. - -One begins to speculate on what possibility there is for a democracy -except running about in circles. Everything is apparently arranged so -that the majority can enforce its immediate will, and its immediate will -is always several generations behind the wisdom of its best citizens. An -enthroned tyrant can be dynamited, but a hydra-headed tyrant in the -election booth must be educated. What a wearisome, unromantic task that -is! Many a man who would exultingly give his life in the adventure of -assassination retires to his study before the labor of training a mob. -He has neither the strength of imagination nor the strength of heart -necessary to fight his way inch by inch. Here is a real sacrifice to be -made for the future. Here is a chance for modern heroes with stuff in -them. Here is an opportunity to substitute soul-testing labor for -amateur theatricals. To leaven stupidity, to work with raw and shouting -enthusiasts, to be humble enough to accept each partial victory, each -compromise, and still to fight for the next one—this is the challenge of -faith which proves to us there is still iron in mankind. There is -satisfaction in the thought that victories have not become easier. Many -a Launcelot would go insane in the trenches. - -Everyone is looking for the supremacy of his own pet reform or reaction -as a result of the war, and it is banal to indulge in prophecies. Yet it -seems to me there will be a great gain in our understanding if we -approach the monster with humility. It has, to be sure, shown us the -brutality lurking in modern civilization. We can easily use it as a text -for denouncing politics, commercialism, militarism, and all the other -abstractions which represent to us the sum of present human failings. -Yet why not go a little farther, and blame as well an intellectualism -which slides about on the surface of things, a species of reform and -enthusiasm which does not bite into the substance of humanity? Do not -our philosophies now appear as futile as the pedantic dreaming of -mediaeval schoolmen and alchemists? Does not our separation of the ideal -from the material now seem as vicious as Christian asceticism? What -business have we to toy with perfectionist theories when to do so we -must ignore what is to-day and what will be to-morrow in the blood and -brain of nearly all human beings? We must make human breeding the test -of effort. We must admit that the will is powerless without the hands. -We must create our social tools to accomplish our social ends. We must -forget the false distinctions between emotion and intellect, and use -both for their common purpose. Let us not repudiate machinery because it -has not yet been consciously directed to an end that is worth gaining. -Modern civilization has spent its force developing in opposite -directions—toward the brute and toward the god—and now we are amazed at -the contradiction. Our task is to make a synthesis and arrive at man. It -will be a task to engage the highest qualities of the poet and the -scientist—this job of putting man’s will in control of his overgrown -body. And it will be more fascinating than any other work man has ever -set himself. - - - - - The Drama - - - “Alice in Wonderland” - - (_Fine Arts Theatre_) - -Judging from this initial production of _Alice in Wonderland_ the new -management of the Fine Arts Theatre is going to justify the name of the -theatre and yet compete with the loop theatres in attracting the -attention of the general public. The Players Producing Company has been -wise in securing the services of an exceptionally good professional -company under the direction of Mr. W. H. Gilmore, and they have made an -unusually happy start with Miss Gerstenberg’s dramatization of Lewis -Carroll’s classic, supplemented by the scenery of Mr. Wm. P. Henderson -and the musical setting of Mr. Eric de Lamarter. - -At first thought it seems incredible that the subtle comedy of _Alice in -Wonderland_ could lend itself to the wider stage values; but the -dialogue loses nothing—it gains, rather, by the transposition. Some -doubt has been expressed as to whether _Alice_ is really a children’s -classic or an adult classic. On the stage that doubt is resolved—it is -both. The children appreciate seeing all the quaint creatures and people -that Alice meets in her adventures, and the grown-ups enjoy the humor of -the dialogue and the extraordinary real unreality of Carroll’s -imagination. As a matter of fact the psychology of Lewis Carroll is -amazing! He lived long before Mme. Montessori; yet in his own whimsical -fashion he has recorded how absurdly unreal and fantastic the unrelated -elements of education must seem to the child mind! The grown-up who does -not appreciate the humor of _Alice in Wonderland_ must be a very dull -person. Both the fun and the dream quality of the original have been -carefully emphasized in the production. Mr. Henderson’s scenery is -successful in more senses than one. First of all it is beautiful and -entirely in the spirit of the play, and, secondly, it does not sacrifice -the actors as so much of the new stage craft has a tendency to do. -Although extremely rich and varied in color, the setting waits for the -final complement of the actors in costume before the design is complete. -As Mr. Henderson is a _painter_, rather than a “man of the theatre”—that -vague term invented by Craig—he knows how to obtain effects on the stage -by color, and does not depend upon the manipulation of direct -lighting—often as imitative and theatrical as the old style scenery—to -create illusion. He obtains the effect of depth or distance on the stage -by the tonal quality of his painted drop, rather than by an increased -cubic depth which is apt to reduce an actor to the thin and non-existent -quality of a paper silhouette. It is well to indicate these principles, -for they are all important in connection with drama that depends upon -speech, and in his use of these principles Mr. Henderson is probably the -most radical of all the advanced scenic artists. - -Altogether Chicago has reason to be proud of this production. It reveals -the fact that Chicago is not without independent artistic initiative, -and a full conviction of this fact should lead to interesting -developments. Unfortunately in this review it is impossible to speak of -the acting in detail, but this is hardly necessary as the critics have -given it the stamp of their approval. For the professional finish of the -performance credit is due to Mr. W. H. Gilmore. Little Miss Alice Tobin -made an ideal Alice. In fact not one part is mis-cast, and all the -actors give the impression that they are having the time of their -life—which contributes much to the spirit of the entertainment. Mr. De -Lamarter’s music has a charming fantastic quality and great delicacy of -imagination. And above all the delightful freshness of the play is due -to Miss Gerstenberg’s good faith in sticking to the text of the original -and not attempting to pump into it any extraneous matter which might -have deteriorated into musical comedy or farce. As it is the play is a -fantasy, and, when successful, as in this case, no form is more capable -of giving lasting enjoyment. - - S. H. R. - - - - - Music - - - SAMAROFF AND CLAUSSEN - -Olga Samaroff is not conspicuous for her bad piano-playing. There are a -great many others, as prominent as Mme. Samaroff, as popular in their -own way, who make just as much noise when they play—pianists who seem to -exert an odd vigilance lest music enter in for a moment. Mme. Samaroff -played Beethoven’s E-flat piano concerto with the Chicago Symphony. This -work is unique in its bombast, causing one to blush for the composer. -The soloist appeared in an ample gown of scorched orange, with slippers -of scarlet, and gave the work its traditional beating. The eye suffered -only less than the ear. - -But the excellent Claussen, taking part in a Wagner program, swept away -all pettiness. She liberated emotions that Wagner alone can touch, when -adequately interpreted. Here is no prima donna, but an artist who sings. -Her voice is a brimming-over of loveliness; her emotional power becomes -inevitable, for she sings in phrases of beauty—a living beauty that -moves to tears. Hers is an art that pervades and satisfies ... something -to be treasured. - -Vocalists are generally peacocks—usually moulting. It is a great event -to discover a singing artist, for when the lack is neither a matter of -intelligence nor of intensity, it often happens that the musician uses a -voice that could never perjure itself as beautiful. Julia Claussen gives -a feeling of utter security. No sensibility is wounded or left asleep. - -Samaroff is not to be blamed, individually; although what she represents -is not an art, but a menace, for it is always applauded, copied, and -taught to the youth. Sonority and power in tone-masses are never -obtained by blows upon the piano-keys, or by waving the arms over the -head. The piano is capable of infinite shading and many kinds of tone, -from mighty chords and fierce tumult to delicate tonal weavings and -vague states of calm, from crystalline brilliance to low-sung intimate -melodies; and there are certain artists now living who listen closely, -hear these strange secrets, and bring them out for other ears. Olga -Samaroff, apparently, like her Chicago audience, is aware chiefly of the -difference between loud and soft. - - HERMAN SCHUCHERT. - - - - - Book Discussion - - - A Peter Pan Lover - - _Young Earnest, by Gilbert Cannan._ [_D. Appleton and Company, New - York_] - -A man “who is submissive to his emotions is not in power over -himself”—so wrote Spinoza; and such a man is René Fourmy, the Peter Pan -lover of Gilbert Cannan’s latest novel, who never grew up into the fact -that he should not have everything he wanted. After a boyhood and youth -of almost unconscious surrender to environment, he suddenly rebelled -against the pretense that surrounded him and gave himself up as -completely to his emotions as he had hitherto yielded himself to -external circumstances. He had been educated to be a professor and had -married an ambitious girl without having awakened to the meaning of -life, love, or passion. His first great disillusionment came with his -honeymoon, when instead of finding in his bride “the new wonders and -sweet joy” of fulfilled love, they together “attained nothing but heat, -hunger, and distress.” - -When he could bear this relationship no longer he fled to London, cast -in his lot with Ann, a girl of the slums, and became a taxi driver. Here -he was happy for a time because of his savage hunger for real things, no -matter if they were degrading. The crude, harsh reality of this life -fascinated him until he discovered that Ann’s love was no more the -fulfillment of his dreams than his wife’s had been; only its honesty had -made it endurable. When he discovers that Ann is to have a child—an -unwanted, unexpected child that will be like a chain binding their two -lives—he is driven to a second rebellion and the ultimate rediscovery of -his first sweetheart. Ann shows her anger in the vulgar, uncontrolled -outbursts natural to such a woman, and finally disappears to Canada, -leaving René free to go to Cathleen. We are given to understand that at -last René has attained to the happiness of his love dream, but nothing -Mr. Cannan has told us warrants the belief that he might not suddenly -discover that Cathleen too falls short of his vision of what real love -should be and start out madly once more in pursuit of he knows not what. -If he and Cathleen do finish their lives together it is safe to gamble -that it will not be because René has learned to adjust himself to life -but because he has met his Waterloo in Cathleen, a clever woman who -wanted him and understood how to keep him. - -René was a rebel against the conventions which interfered with his -happiness, a dreamer, and a seeker after the Holy Grail of love. His -attempts to find happiness were utterly selfish, yet honest, so that our -quarrel is not with his morals but with his egotism. He never awoke to -the responsibilities of life, never felt remorse for the sufferings that -he caused others, never grew up to the consciousness that life was -intended for something higher than the fulfillment of his enthusiastic -visions, but blundered into more or less freedom where another man, -perhaps equally rebellious but more scrupulous, would quietly maintain -his outward equanimity and let conventional spiders weave their webs all -about him. - -Quarrels there will be and condemnation arising from _Young Earnest_, -but will they be because readers think Mr. Cannan does not understand -whereof he writes or because he is audacious enough to describe a man -who would not accept shams? We may not like the subject any better than -we would a painting of a maimed or ugly person, yet that objection does -not destroy its art, and art it has, in an unusual degree. Only a -skilled writer could depict a man doing sensual things without being a -sensualist, and René was just the opposite of that. All his sins were of -the spirit rather than of the flesh. His ambition in life was to find -happiness at any cost. He desired love as many desire money and with as -little consideration for others, and although hopelessly at odds with -conventional standards and prudish morals it seems to me that the study -of Young Earnest’s efforts to understand life and his own self is rather -a glorious attempt, and that Gilbert Cannan has been decidedly -courageous to try to reduce to printed terms the emotions, aspirations, -cravings, and blunders of a young man too honest to accept deceits, yet -too cowardly (or perhaps too brave) to stand by his blunders. Not a -pretty story, of course, but life is seldom pretty when it is frank, and -his stumbling “from one love to another” is not the expression of -sensuality but rather a spiritual attempt to live out the best that was -in him. - -The book has many passages of beauty, many expressions of keen -philosophy which seem to indicate that the author’s soul belongs to the -divine side of life—not to its sordidness. So wonderfully does he -reproduce mediocrity, middle-class respectability, and the vital if less -commendable phases of Mitcham Mews that one is led to believe that all -of life—from visions to slums—is unfolding to him, and that no matter -what his subject, his pen will paint a picture that rings true. One -could hardly find a more subtle task than has been accomplished in -_Young Earnest_—that of painting a man who was not a sensualist doing -sensual things. That Mr. Cannan knew precisely what he was doing is -revealed in the words that he puts into the mouth of one of his -characters who describes René as being a man “simply inappropriate in a -community of creatures who live by cunning.” - - M. A. S. - - - Nietzsche in Fiction - - _The Encounter, by Anne Douglas Sedgewick._ [_The Century - Company, New York_] - -Nietzsche—jealous, dyspeptic, wonderful—lives in these pages so vividly -that the illusion of biography is attained. His dreams, his faults, his -fears stand forth. Light is focussed upon the great thinker. Ludwig -Wehlitz, as he is called in the novel, loves a young and beautiful girl -from America—Persis Fenamy. He is rivalled in his love by two other -Germans, disciples of his, but very different personally. Persis, who is -a combination of loveliness and good sense, proves to be a difficult, -even impossible, problem for the three philosophers. Their wooing is the -basis of the work. - -Such a story achieves originality at one stroke; and it is fair to say -that the author’s development of this dangerous theme is fully equal to -her daring. She catches the high-lights upon the soul of this curious -Titan; she constructs the man as he must actually have been, and places -him in circumstances of her own arrangement. His imperative genius and -his characteristic childishness work out consistently together. Pedants -and long-winded scholars, who know not the poet in their god, will argue -that the real Nietzsche neither could nor would have waxed passionate -over a lovely woman ... the book is not for them. Anne Douglas Sedgewick -sees deep and imagines clearly, and her findings are authentic. Her -lesser people, notably Wehlitz’s untidy Italian friend, Eleanora, and -the inscrutable Mrs. Fenamy, are created with the same splendid skill -and vision. This writer’s realism is not the vaunted “crude and -ruthless” variety; for, although it displays life in a plain and natural -manner, there is in it an intense emotional quality which always evades -the camera or the microscope. _The Encounter_ is altogether worthy. - - HERMAN SCHUCHERT. - - - Joseph Campbell - - _Irishry, by Joseph Campbell._ [_Maunsel and Company, London_] - -Joseph Campbell holds an enviable position among the present-day Irish -bards. His poems are big, vital themes, readable by every intelligent -person. In his volume of lyrics—for he possesses to a remarkable degree -the enchanted tongue—he takes you into every walk of life in Ireland. -And what goes in regard to life and occupations in England and Ireland -holds good in this country and elsewhere. He does not shun the -pig-killer, the quarry-man, the mid-wife, the unfrocked, or disgraced -priest, the blind man, the osier seller, or even the ragman. The -characters are not put before you as repugnance personified; he makes -you sympathize, admire, and even love them. You could call it a drama of -characters; each one unfolded being a separate act. - -How beautiful is _The Shepherd_. You can see the stars, and clearly -comprehend the beauty of the simile in which he compares the shepherd to -the man of Chaldea. The picture of the pasture of eld looms forth like a -marvelous mosaic or mural painting: - - - THE SHEPHERD - - Dark against the stars - He stands: the cloudy bars - Of nebulae, the constellations ring - His forehead like a king. - - The ewes are in the fold: - His consciousness is old - As his, who in Chaldea long ago - Penned his flock, and brooded so. - -_The Shepherd_ can justly be compared to Sir Richard Lovelace’s _To -Lucretia on Going to War_. They have in common the same metallic -sweetness. A companion piece in both strength of beauty and lyrical -qualities is _The Mother_: - - The hearthstone broods in shadow, - And the dark hills are old, - But the child clings to the mother, - And the corn springs in the mould. - - And Dana moves on Luachra, - And makes the world anew: - The cuckoo’s cry in the meadow, - The moon, and the earthly dew. - -In _The Blind Man at the Fair_ there is a truly masterly imagining of -the blind one’s agony. - - O to be blind! - To know the darkness that I know. - The stir I hear is the empty wind, - The people idly come and go. - - . . . . . . . . . . - - Last night the moon of Lammas shined, - Rising high and setting low; - But light is nothing to the blind— - All, all is darkness where they go. - -In _The Laborer_ he reminds one of Whitman in lyrics. Here he speaks of -the open roads, the blue hills, the tranquil skies, and the serene -heavens. A beautiful passage from _The Whelk-Gatherer_ reads: - - Where the dim sea-line - Is a wheel unbroken; - Where day dawns on water, - And night falls on wind, - And the fluid elements - Quarrel forever. - -What satire, profusely laden with bitter irony is contained in _The -Orangeman_: - - His faith, ’Sixteen-Ninety; - His love, none; his hope, - That hell may one day - Get the soul of the Pope. - - . . . . . . . . . . - - Lives in beauty, with Venus - And Psyche in white, - And the Trojan Laocoön - For his spirit’s delight. - -Last, but not least, is _The Old Woman_: - - As a white candle - In a holy place, - So is the beauty - Of an aged face. - - As the spent radiance - Of the winter sun, - So is the woman - With her travail done. - - Her brood gone from her, - And her thought as still - As the waters - Under the ruined mill. - - - - - The Reader Critic - - -_Will Levington Comfort, Kingsville, Ontario_: - -I have just had the January number. - -I feel as if I had found my companions. You who rejoiced in Caroline -Branson and Margaret Swawite will know what one means by finding his -companions. - -And when I came to the line of George Soule’s—“I am the greatest -anarchist of you all—” the fact is I had settled for a nap by the fire, -and here I am by the machine instead. - -I am proud of you and glad to be in the world with you all. I am sure -you must feel the same about each other—for you must have been very -lonely in a world that has lost the art of playing—you who play so well. - -I have looked long for the new voices; of late I have put every faith in -the conviction that they were just behind. You will have everything in -ten years. No voice from Germany, England, or France—all must come from -you. The only thing that can possibly hurt you is Beauduin and his kind. -They are poison and vision is not with them. I think you must belong to -that generation now of the twenties—that I have felt behind me so long -and so wonderfully. Again and again I have written about this new race -of Americans—there is a touch of it in the _January Craftsman_ which I -wish you would read. - -You are singing it. You are of it. You ask nothing—you sing, you play. -There are moments in which I caught you (you of the little book) in that -wondrous naivete which is the loss of the love of self—that cosmic -simplicity of the workmen of to-morrow. - -How dreadful is the old— - - “And then O night, deliberate, unlovely—” - -But the new which you voice, and must always voice— - - “In the inspired improvisation of love—” - -I have read your January poems to all who come to the study. I have -looked with even more delight at old Walt—who opened the door for (y)our -generation—the dear old pioneer. He helped to make possible, too, our -acceptance of the Zarathustra man—the pillar of fire of our transition, -but Walt is the pillar of cloud by day. - -I’m sure you’ll see my zeal for you. I have plugged through fifteen -years in which every ideal of workmanship has sunk visibly in America -until it can sink no lower. The great crowd is forgetting even how to -read. It has lost the cohering line of expression—a series of broken -pictures is enough to hold its eye. But the end is reached with the -war—and the new generation which will witness the tragedy of greater -human waste perhaps than the one before it, also contains the superb -individuals—the few—such individuals as _we_ never dreamed of in our -twenties. I want some time to do for you a bit on this generation of -mine (the bleakest in the world). The age of advertising.... Imagine a -race that can only point to Herrick and London and Atherton and Dreiser -and Watts—weakened solutions of Zola and Thackeray—except London who was -great and open-souled—but lost his way. So I laugh and think of myself -as born out of due time, and though just past midstream, I want to -belong to the twenties again. I believe that you can become the heart of -our new age of letters—if you are true; and I know you will not -encounter the bleakness and the killing terror that we met, for the way -is preparing momentarily. The glory of it all will come from your being -yourselves—as you are so splendidly now. But the prison-house will close -on some, and others will hear the call of the markets and others the -decadence of Europe’s withered loins—and that is why I venture to ask -you to hold fast to the dream—not to listen to anyone—for you have -_emerged_ truly.... Remember there are no others but you in the -world—you alone have touched the new harmony—and it had to come from -America. The New Republic is not doing it, nor _The Masses_, nor _The -Unpopular_. Though they are great—they are of the old. Just to be true -to your vision is all Heaven asks, and believe me one with you. I am -just beginning, too. I want to belong—although I have ten years start. -Great good to you—all. - -P. S. We have all loved the little milliner’s hat, and some of us have -wept over it. - - - ANOTHER NOTE ON PAROXYSM IN POETRY - -_Rex Lampman, Portland, Oregon_: - -Quoting Mr. Edward J. O’Brien’s instructive article in THE LITTLE REVIEW -for January: “Paroxysm is the poetic expression of that modern spirit -which finds its most notable expression in the sculpture of Meunier, the -polyphonic music of Strauss, the philosophy of Bergson, and the American -skyscraper.... It aims to attain and express, with the quick, keen vigor -and strength of steel, the whirling, audacious, burning life of our -epoch in all the paroxysm of the New Beauty.” - -Quoting the dictionary, a paroxysm is “any sudden, violent and -uncontrollable action or emotion; a convulsion or fit.” - -The dictionary definition seems more nearly to apply to inspirational -poetic effort, such as Poe had in mind when he advanced his theory that -a long poem is an artistic impossibility; such an effort is as necessary -to any truly poetic performance. Mr. O’Brien’s definition refers to a -particular kind of poetic effort, which, to achieve its aims, also must -be inspirational, and finds its inspiration in “modern industrial and -mechanical effort,” rather than in all creation, free field for the poet -of no prescribed and particular province. - -I am totally unacquainted with the sculpture of Meunier, almost as -innocent of knowledge of Strauss’s music, and of Bergson I know but a -little, but I have seen the American skyscraper clutching its black -steel fingers toward the blue, amid the rat-tat-tat-tat-tat of the -pneumatic riveting hammers. Here in Portland the skyscraper is -pre-empting one by one our views of the evergreen hills and the snowy -mountains. Perhaps the other things Mr. O’Brien enumerates as paroxyst -manifestations are shutting off our views of the eternal verities of -life and the silent splendors of the soul—or rather, perhaps they -symbolize the materialistic ideals that are walling us away from the -things of the spirit. - -If we accept these paroxyst manifestations as art, and keep our eyes -fixed on them, surely the infinite horizon, with its never-conquered -boundaries always beckoning out and on, is lost to us. - -But do we accept them? Beyond the skyscrapers are the quiet hills, and -however we throw ourselves into the vortices of cities, however often we -go down among the red-mouthed, roaring furnaces, however we may -acquiesce in, and even exult in and exalt, the materialistic horrors -that multiply around us like monsters in a steamy primal fen, deep in -ourselves we know that all these things are vain and vanishing, and that -the actual and enduring lie outside and beyond, or within ourselves. The -skyscraper is a monument to the Moloch of Rent. The furnaces are those -of Baal, in which we give our souls as well as those of our children for -sacrifice. - -“The evolution of poetry is to be as rapid and terrible henceforth as -material evolution,” says M. Nicholas Beauduin, as quoted by Mr. -O’Brien. No, the gods will not forbid it, for it is their way to let -things run their courses. - -Doubtless there were singers, when Babylon was building, who insisted -that a new poetry was necessary to celebrate the city, with its walls -and towers and the efficient wonder of its sewer system, if it had one. -Perhaps these poets, blinking in the glare of the furnaces and confused -by the thunder of the shops whence issued the swords and spears and -war-chariots, said to each other, “These are the supremest things, the -worth-while things, and we must sing of them or be out of date.” And a -paroxyst school was born. - -But always the heart of man has yearned toward things other than the -works of his hands. When the walls and towers and spears and chariots -have returned to the earth from which they were fashioned, there still -endured the love for those other things, and the joy in their artistic -expression. - -The springtime, banal as it is as a poetic subject, will remain forever -more pleasing to the singer and his audience than can any paroxysm, of -however “scientific technique,” proclaiming in “swift, hurtling, dynamic -rhythms” the clamor and clangor of an armor-plate factory or the din and -danger of a textile-mill. The earth is our mother, and hers are our -deepest yearnings, first and last. “She waits for each and all.” - -And if the paroxysts seek for power—for power that overcomes and -subdues, that smites suddenly or conquers slowly, and recreates again -the same—let them look aside from their banging machinery, from all -materialistic illusion—from “the poetry contained in modern cities, -locomotives, aeroplanes, dreadnoughts and submarines; in a stock -exchange, a Wall street or a wheat pit—and behold the power and the -marvel, beyond all “scientific marvels,” of Nature, singing slow or fast -as suits her business, chanting her inevitable rhythms through the ages, -taking back into her patient bosom all the marring excrescence that man -for a little while has reared thereon. What is New York or Pittsburg but -an itching pimple on the face of the earth? There is much outside -incorporate limits, and beyond the sound of mill-whistles and the scream -of trains. The earth is scarce disturbed as yet. - -“My love is like a red, red rose”—the same song that sang the enraptured -Solomon, or whoever it was that indited the Canticle—will, I believe, -outlast any paroxysm which records a “cinematographic vision of modern -life.” This is possibly the idea of the paroxysts themselves, they to -sing anew as the occasion demands, and keep their product, like that of -the movies, down-to-now. But though the words of the love-song perish, -some man will sing it again, for joy at sight of his beloved, when -springtime urges on the rose. Sappho sang of love, and men search the -sea-floor for her fragments. - -However, if the paroxysts wish to see their notions expressed in proper -relation to all things else, let them read Walt Whitman, who had room -for everything, as he lustily proclaimed, in his sturdy chants. - -The New Beauty: is there any such thing? 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The BLACK SHEEP, if you will, have blazed the - NEW TRAILS and have given us whatever we may possess in - literature, industry or art worthy of the name. - - - The International - Socialist Review is a - Magazine of Revolt - - Now there are two kinds of rebels; the men who revolt MENTALLY - and who THEORIZE, and those who revolt by action. - - The REVIEW blazes the way in both mental and ACTUAL TRAILS, with - the emphasis on rebellious ACTION or human conduct. - - We have correspondents in China, Japan, India, Germany, France, - New Zealand, Africa, Australia—from Alaska to South America—all - revolutionists who send us the latest photographs or drawings and - news of victories and defeats in the great world war between the - HAVES and the HAVE-NOTS. - - If you are only an “intellectual” revolutionist, strongly averse - to any sort of human CONDUCT that may overstep the old Ruts of - Reaction, you will not like the Review. - - If you are the Adventurer who loves to battle into unknown lands - with the Advance Guard of Pioneers—you must not be without it. - - 10c a copy; $1.00 a year - - For $1.10 we will mail you a cloth bound copy of Nietzsche’s - HUMAN, ALL TOO HUMAN and the REVIEW one year. - - Address: CHARLES H. KERR & COMPANY - 118 WEST KINZIE STREET CHICAGO, ILLINOIS - - - “_I have never been so completely - satisfied with any Piano - as with the_— - - - Mason & Hamlin - - THIS IS THE SINCERE TRIBUTE OF THAT DISTINGUISHED RUSSIAN - PIANIST - - - Ossip Gabrilowitsch - - WHO RECENTLY APPEARED HERE AS SOLOIST WITH THE KNEISEL QUARTETTE - - To the Question: Why is the Mason & Hamlin more frequently heard - in Public Recitals of note than all other pianos there is - - But One Answer: _MUSICALLY it is the most beautiful piano the - world has ever known._ - - Out of town readers send today for fully illustrated catalog and - price list. For sale only at the warerooms of the - - - _Cable Piano Company._ - - Wabash and Jackson - Chicago - - - Poetry - - - A Magazine of Verse - - EDITED BY - HARRIET MONROE - - THIS MAGAZINE IS PUBLISHING THE FINEST WORK OF LIVING AMERICAN - AND ENGLISH POETS, AND IS FORWARDING THE RECOGNITION OF THOSE - YOUNGER poets whose work belongs to this generation, but whose - acceptance might otherwise be retarded by a lack of adventurous - appreciation. - - If you love good poetry, and wish to encourage its creation and - publication in the United States, ask your friends to become - subscribers to POETRY. Remind them that this is the most - effectual way to show their appreciation of an attempt to make - this art of as much national concern as the arts of painting, - sculpture, music and the drama. - - SEYMOUR, DAUGHADAY AND COMPANY - FINE ARTS BUILDING, CHICAGO - PUBLISHERS - - Send POETRY for one year ($1.50 enclosed) beginning - - - .................................................................. - to - - Name - ................................................................ - - Address - ............................................................. - - - - - Earth Triumphant - _and_ Other Tales In Verse - - BY CONRAD AIKEN - - - Opinions of the Leading Reviewers - - “There are many volumes of poetry this season, Conrad Aiken’s - ‘Earth Triumphant’ being given first place not only because of - its excellence, but because it voices the spirit of the new world - in sonorous tones.”—_Los Angeles Graphic._ - - “The narrative poems in this book in hand are written by one - whose thought has sounded further depths than the author of ‘The - Everlasting Mercy’ has yet found. In particular is this true of - ‘Youth,’ the second number in the book, a poem of greater daring, - strength, and scope than has come from any singer of recent - note.”—_New York World._ - - “A new champion has entered the lists, for it is impossible to - read Mr. Conrad Aiken’s volume, ‘Earth Triumphant,’ without - realizing that he sounds a note quite different to any that has - been heard before.... A remarkable sense of balance and of value - is combined with no little beauty of expression and the result - cannot fail to be impressive. The philosophy is that of the - transcendency of youth, of the cleansing that is to be found in - the forces of nature. To make use of a phrase lately rediscovered - by one of our novelists, Mr. Aiken makes us ‘touch earth.’”—L. B. - Lippman, in _The Book News Monthly_. - - “Aiken sings the praises of Earth and Youth with genuine - sweetness and exuberance ... rapid moving narratives with many - soaring lyrics by the way.”—_Chicago Evening Post._ - - “His stories are graphic, his shorter lyrics steeped in warm - earth music.... Mr. Aiken’s book is one of the most pleasing of - the year.”—_American Review of Reviews._ - - “The author’s manifestly accurate power of observation finds - fullest scope in this (Earth Triumphant) the greatest of the - poems.... There are descriptions of the effect of nature upon the - man noticing its beauties for the first time which remind us of - the younger Wordsworth; but there is in addition the fuller flood - of tide of modern life which is always heard in these poems. The - appeal of the earth and her relation to man are spoken of again - and again in various poems, all of which give forth an atmosphere - of keen, vibrant life, of largeness, and of the fuller music of - reality in life.”—_Boston Daily Advertiser._ - - “With genuine beauty they relate tales which reveal the heart of - modern life in various phases of youth, and contain a reading of - earth which differs in essentials from that of Meredith. The - volume deserves a wider audience than the usual public which - cares for poetry.”—Wm. S. Braithwaite, _Anthology of Magazine - Verse, 1914_. - - _CLOTH, 12mo., $1.25 NET, POSTAGE EXTRA_ - - Published at - 64-66 Fifth Ave. - New York - - On sale - wherever books - are sold - - The Macmillan Company - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes - - -Advertisements were collected at the end of the text. - -The table of contents on the title page was adjusted in order to reflect -correctly the headings in this issue of THE LITTLE REVIEW. - -The original spelling was mostly preserved. A few obvious typographical -errors were silently corrected. All other changes are shown here -(before/after): - - [p. 5]: - ... quietness of this place, and the absence, even round about - the purliens of it, ... - ... quietness of this place, and the absence, even round about - the purlieus of it, ... - - [p. 8]: - ... “macrabrism” of Ibsen and Strindberg dissolves like - mephitic scum when ... - ... “macabrism” of Ibsen and Strindberg dissolves like - mephitic scum when ... - - [p. 27]: - ... to be fostered on one’s readers as anything ‘ex - catheda’. One such ... - ... to be foisted on one’s readers as anything ‘ex - cathedra’. One such ... - - [p. 40]: - ... example of John D. Fergussion are boldly rhythmising the - people and affairs ... - ... example of John D. Fergusson are boldly rhythmising the - people and affairs ... - - [p. 47]: - ... horrified by the relevations of a battle which most of us get - into the habit ... - ... horrified by the revelations of a battle which most of us get - into the habit ... - - [p. 51]: - ... fierce tumult to delicate tontal weavings and vague states of - calm, from crystalline ... - ... fierce tumult to delicate tonal weavings and vague states of - calm, from crystalline ... - - [p. 54]: - ... The Hearthstone broods in shadow, ... - ... The hearthstone broods in shadow, ... - - [p. 54]: - ... And Dana moves on Lauchra, ... - ... And Dana moves on Luachra, ... - - [p. 55]: - ... And the Trojan Laöcoon ... - ... And the Trojan Laocoön ... - - [p. 56]: - ... Imagine a race than can only point to Herrick and London and ... - ... 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