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diff --git a/old/69805-0.txt b/old/69805-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9634432..0000000 --- a/old/69805-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3025 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Little Review, April 1916 (Vol. 3, -No. 2), 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, April 1916 (Vol. 3, No. 2) - -Author: Various - -Editor: Margaret C. Anderson - -Release Date: January 15, 2023 [eBook #69805] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Jens Sadowski and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at http://www.pgdp.net. This book was produced from images - made available by the Modernist Journal Project, Brown and - Tulsa Universities. - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE REVIEW, APRIL 1916 -(VOL. 3, NO. 2) *** - - - - - - THE LITTLE REVIEW - - - Literature Drama Music Art - - MARGARET C. ANDERSON - EDITOR - - APRIL, 1916 - - Four Poems: Carl Sandburg - Gone - Graves - Choices - Child of the Romans - Portrait of Carl Sandburg by Elizabeth Buehrmann - Dreiser Sherwood Anderson - To John Cowper Powys Arthur Davison Ficke - A Letter from London Ezra Pound - A Sorrowful Demon Alexander S. Kaun - The Poet Speaks Margaret C. Anderson - Poems: Elizabeth Gibson Cheyne - The Cry - The Excuse - The Cross - What Then—? R. G. - German Poetry William Saphier - An Isaiah Without a Christ Charles Zwaska - Announcements - Flamingo Dreams Lupo de Braila - New York Letter Allan Ross Macdougall - The Theatre - Book Discussion - The Reader Critic - Vers Libre Prize Contest - - Published Monthly - - 15 cents a copy - - MARGARET C. ANDERSON, Publisher - Fine Arts Building - CHICAGO - - $1.50 a year - - Entered as second-class matter at Postoffice, Chicago - - - - - THE LITTLE REVIEW - - - VOL. III - - APRIL, 1916 - - NO. 2 - - Copyright, 1916, by Margaret C. Anderson - - - - - Four Poems - - - CARL SANDBURG - - - Gone - - Everybody loved Chick Lorimer in our town. - Far off - Everybody loved her. - So we all love a wild girl keeping a hold - On a dream she wants. - Nobody knows now where Chick Lorimer went. - Nobody knows why she packed her trunk: a few old things - And is gone.... - Gone with her little chin - Thrust ahead of her - And her soft hair blowing careless - From under a wide hat, - Dancer, singer, a laughing passionate lover. - - Were there ten men or a hundred hunting Chick? - Were there five men or fifty with aching hearts? - Everybody loved Chick Lorimer. - Nobody knows where she’s gone. - - - Graves - - I dreamed one man stood against a thousand, - One man damned as a wrongheaded fool. - One year and another he walked the streets, - And a thousand shrugs and hoots - Met him in the shoulders and mouths he passed. - - He died alone - And only the undertaker came to his funeral. - - Flowers grow over his grave anod in the wind, - And over the graves of the thousand, too, - The flowers grow anod in the wind. - - Flowers and the wind, - Flowers anod over the graves of the dead, - Petals of red, leaves of yellow, streaks of white, - Masses of purple sagging ... - I love you and your great way of forgetting. - - - Choices - - They offer you many things, - I a few. - Moonlight on the play of fountains at night - With water sparkling a drowsy monotone, - Bare-shouldered, smiling women and talk - And a cross-play of loves and adulteries - And a fear of death - and a remembering of regrets: - All this they offer you. - I come with: - salt and bread - a terrible job of work - and tireless war; - Come and have now: - hunger - danger - and hate. - - [Illustration: Carl Sandburg - _From a silhouette photograph by Elizabeth Buehrmann_] - - - Child of the Romans - - The dago shovelman sits by the railroad track - Eating a noon meal of bread and bologna. - A train whirls by and men and women at tables - Alive with red roses and yellow jonquils, - Eat steaks running with brown gravy, - Strawberries and cream, eclairs and coffee. - The dago shovelman finishes the dry bread and bologna, - Washes it down with a dipper from the water-boy - And goes back to the second half of a ten-hour day’s work, - Keeping the road-bed so the roses and jonquils - Shake hardly at all in the cut glass vases - Standing slender on the tables in the dining cars. - - - - - Dreiser - - - SHERWOOD ANDERSON - - _Heavy, heavy, hangs over thy head._ - _Fine, or superfine._ - -Theodore Dreiser is old—he is very, very old. I do not know how many -years he has lived, perhaps thirty, perhaps fifty, but he is very old. -Something gray and bleak and hurtful that has been in the world almost -forever is personified in him. - -When Dreiser is gone we shall write books, many of them. In the books we -write there will be all of the qualities Dreiser lacks. We shall have a -sense of humor, and everyone knows Dreiser has no sense of humor. More -than that we shall have grace, lightness of touch, dreams of beauty -bursting through the husks of life. - -Oh, we who follow him shall have many things that Dreiser does not have. -That is a part of the wonder and the beauty of Dreiser, the things that -others will have because of Dreiser. - -When he was editor of _The Delineator_, Dreiser went one day, with a -woman friend, to visit an orphans’ asylum. The woman told me the story -of that afternoon in the big, gray building with Dreiser, heavy and -lumpy and old, sitting on a platform and watching the children—the -terrible children—all in their little uniforms, trooping in. - -“The tears ran down his cheeks and he shook his head,” the woman said. -That is a good picture of Dreiser. He is old and he does not know what -to do with life, so he just tells about it as he sees it, simply and -honestly. The tears run down his cheeks and he shakes his head. - -Heavy, heavy, the feet of Theodore. How easy to pick his books to -pieces, to laugh at him. Thump, thump, thump, here he comes, Dreiser, -heavy and old. - -The feet of Dreiser are making a path for us, the brutal heavy feet. -They are tramping through the wilderness, making a path. Presently the -path will be a street, with great arches overhead and delicately carved -spires piercing the sky. Along the street will run children, shouting -“Look at me”—forgetting the heavy feet of Dreiser. - -The men who follow Dreiser will have much to do. Their road is long. But -because of Dreiser, we, in America, will never have to face the road -through the wilderness, the road that Dreiser faced. - - _Heavy, heavy, hangs over thy head._ - _Fine, or superfine._ - - - - - To John Cowper Powys, on His “Confessions” - - - ARTHUR DAVISON FICKE - - - I. - - Old salamander basking in the fire, - Winking your lean tongue at a coal or two, - Lolling amid the maelstroms of desire, - And envying the lot of none or few— - Old serpent alien to the human race, - Immune to poison, apples, and the rest, - Examining like a microbe each new face - And pawing, passionless, each novel breast— - Admirer of God and of the Devil, - Hater of Heaven, Purgatory, and Hell, - Skeptic of good, more skeptic yet of evil— - Knowing the sick soul sounder than the well— - We mortals send you greeting from afar— - How very like a human being you are! - - - II. - - Impenetrably isolate you stand, - Tickling the world with a long-jointed straw. - Lazy as Behemoth, your thoughts demand - No cosmic plan to satisfy your maw; - But as the little shining gnats buzz by - You eat the brightest and spit out the rest, - Then streak your front with ochre carefully - And dance, a Malay with a tattooed breast. - There are no sins, no virtues left for you, - No strength, no weakness, no apostasy. - You know the world, now old, was never new, - And that its wisdom is a shameless lie. - So in the dusk you sit you down to plan - Some fresh confusion for the heart of man. - - - III. - - Lover of Chaos and the Sacred Seven! - Scorner of Midas and St. Francis, too! - Wearied of earth, yet dubious of Heaven, - Fain of old follies and of pastures new— - Why should the great, whose spirits haunt the void - Between Orion and the Northern Wain, - Make you their mouthpiece? Why have they employed - So brassed a trumpet for so high a strain? - Perhaps, like you, they count it little worth - To pipe save for the piping; so they take - You weak, infirm, uncertain as the earth, - And down your tubes the thrill of music wake. - Well, God preserve you!—and the Devil damn!— - And nettles strew the bosom of Abraham! - - - - - A Letter from London - - - EZRA POUND - -I should be very glad if someone in America could be made to realize the -sinister bearing of the import duty on books. I have tried in vain to -get some of my other correspondents to understand the effect of this -iniquity ... but apparently without success. It means insularity, -stupidity, backing the printer against literature, commerce and -obstruction against intelligence. I have spent myself on the topic so -many times that I am not minded to write an elaborate denunciation until -I know I am writing to someone capable of understanding and willing to -take up the battle. Incidentally the life of a critical review depends a -good deal on controversy and on having some issue worth fighting. Henry -IV. did away with the black mediaevalism of an octroi on books, and the -position of Paris is not without its debt to that intelligent act. No -country that needs artificial aid in its competition with external -intelligence is fit for any creature above the status of pig. - -The tariff should be abolished not only for itself but because dishonest -booksellers shelter themselves behind it and treble the price of foreign -books, and because it keeps up the price of printing. - -If there is one thing that we are all agreed upon: It is that the canned -goods of Curtis and Company and Harper and Company and all the business -firms should be set apart from the art of letters, and the artist helped -against the tradesman. - -As a matter of fact a removal of the tariff wouldn’t much hurt even -publishers, as the foreign books we really want in America are the sort -which the greed of American business publishers forbids their publishing -... but that is no matter. - -It affects every young writer in America, and every reader whether he -wish merely to train his perceptions or whether he train them with a -purpose, of, say, learning what has been done, what need not be -repeated, what is worthy of repetition. There is now the hideous -difficulty of getting a foreign book, and the prohibitive price of both -foreign and domestic publications. I don’t know that I need to go on -with it. - -Again and yet again it is preposterous that our generation of writers -shouldn’t have the facility in getting at contemporary work, which one -would have in Paris or Moscow. It’s bad enough for the American to -struggle against the dead-hand of the past generation composed of clerks -and parasites and against our appalling _decentralization_, i. e., lack -of metropoles and centers, having full publishing facilities and -communication with the outer world—(which last is being slowly -repaired)—also our scarcity of people who know. - - - When all the world goes mad, one must accept madness as sanity, - since sanity is, in the last analysis, nothing but the madness on - which the whole world happens to agree.—_Bernard Shaw_, 1916. - - - - - A Sorrowful Demon[1] - - - ALEXANDER S. KAUN - -How he hates us, ordinary mortals! No, he seldom hates; he reserves his -hatred for God, for life, for the universe. For us, weak bubbles driven -on the surface by uncontrollable forces, he has only contempt. Yet, -though hating and despising, he is infinitely dear to us: the thick -melancholy vein that bulges across his wildcat forehead makes him almost -human; the taut string of his remote harp vibrates at times with such -yearning and pain that we feel nearly at home with that alien-on-earth, -Mikhail Lermontov. We are glad with a petty gladness whenever we -discover in him this weakness, his humaneness; we chuckle at the -comfortable feeling of being able to observe him on the level plane, -freed from the necessity of throwing our heads far back in order to -perceive him on the lonely peak. He is our brother, we boast; and we -inflict on him the severest punishment for a genius—forgiveness. - -But his contemporaries could not forgive him. A general sigh of relief -echoed the official announcement of his death “in a fearful storm -accompanied by thunder and lightning on the Beshta mountain in the -Caucasus”. “Bon voyage”, exclaimed Nicholas I, rubbing his hands in glee -over the departure of one of his most undesirable subjects, the -uncompromising mutineer. The church refused to bury the arrogant denier. -Society applauded Major Martinov whose bullet snapped the life of the -unapproachable aristocrat, the mocker of customs and conventions, the -maimer of feminine hearts, the careless, fearless duellist who played -with life, his own or that of others, as with a valueless toy. The -people—there was not such a thing in Russia of 1841. - -Society organism cannot digest a foreign element. We are too local in -our terrestrial standards to tolerate an individual who is made not of -the same stuff that we are made of. Lermontov was a child of a different -planet who fell upon our earth by some crude mistake, doomed to chafe -twenty-six years among humans. As a child he protested against the fatal -misplacement; he discharged his venom in demolishing flower-beds, in -torturing animals with tears in his eyes, in brandishing his tiny fists -against his grandmother, when he observed her mistreating the serfs. -When he grew up—and he grew up early: at ten he loved a girl; at fifteen -he conceived his greatest poems, _Mtzyri_ and _Demon_—his protest had -calmed down. He no longer wept or raged—he hated God and despised -mankind. His contemporaries tell us that no one could stand his heavy -penetrating look. Men hated and feared him; women hated and loved him, -as they always do extraordinary things. Lermontov took revenge for his -accidental association with mankind; he left behind him a long row of -broken hearts and wounded ambitions. His rebellious spirit sought rest -in chaos, in torturing others and himself, in creating around him an -atmosphere of tragedy, in reckless fighting with the wild Caucasian -mountaineers. - - And he, the mutinous, seeks storm, - As if in storm he may find peace. - -Pechorin, the hero of his autobiographical sketches collected in _A Hero -of Our Time_, is the first Nietzschean in literature. His terse, -unpretentious maxims and paradoxes have been re-echoed by Dostoevsky, -Nietzsche, Przybyszewski, and other writers of the superman-literature. -As always is the case with deliberate or unconscious commentators, they -liquefy the original. One carelessly dropped sentence of Lermontov is -elaborated in tons of Dostoevsky’s gallous psychology, in mountains of -Nietzsche’s brain-splittering philosophy, in cognac-oceans of the -vivisectionist-Przybyszewski. Pechorin does not talk much; he is too -aristocratic for extravagance in words. Pechorin does not compromise; he -is not made of that stuff. He neither repents nor seeks atonement; in -his hatred for reality he does not erect a consoling phantom in the -image of a Superman; he would dismiss with a contemptible shrug Falk’s -matrimonial and sexual tribulations. Pechorin is eternally alone. Those -who approach him are scorched with his unhuman flame. Alone, in the -steppe, after a mad ride which kills his horse, Pechorin hugs the soil -and weeps “like a child”. Like a child pressing to its mother’s bosom, -plaintively demanding the Why and the Wherefore of existence among -strangers. Shall we chuckle at the suddenly-discovered weakness of our -enemy? Or shall we modestly turn away our eyes from the stolen sight of -a god in his nudity? - -I once called Lermontov a sorrowful demon. Not a Lucifer, not a -Mephistopheles, but a Russian demon, as the sculptor Antokolsky -conceived him. Lermontov-Demon-Pechorin, a quaint superman, neither god -nor devil, a pluralistic being, a combination of cruelty and compassion, -of contempt and sympathy, of cynicism and sentimentalism, of the -loftiest and the basest, of the unhuman and of the human-all-too-human. -Dostoevsky? - ----------- - - [1] A Hero of Our Time, by M. Y. Lermontov. New York, Alfred A. - Knopf. - - - - - The Poet Speaks - - - MARGARET C. ANDERSON - -There are people in the world who like poetry if they know the poet. -There are a good many people in Chicago just now who understand and -enjoy Amy Lowell’s poetry because she read it to them at the Little -Theatre. - -I know a poet who could make nothing of Vachel Lindsay’s things until -Lindsay chanted them to him one day. And I know another who said to me, -when I remarked that I didn’t like Alfred Kreymborg’s verse, “Oh, but -you would if you knew him.” I am puzzled, because I know this man to be -an intelligent being. And somehow I have always been under the naive -impression that poetry was a matter of art. - -But there are worse things. There is one type of person we always eject -promptly from the office of THE LITTLE REVIEW. He is the person who says -that Amy Lowell’s poetry has no feeling in it. Now please listen: I want -to quote you something. It is called _Vernal Equinox_, it was written by -Miss Lowell, and it appeared in the September issue of _Poetry_; but I -want to see it put down in these pages so that we may actually know it -has been in THE LITTLE REVIEW: - - The scent of hyacinths, like a pale mist, lies between me and - my book; - And the South Wind, washing through the room, - Makes the candles quiver; - My nerves sting at a spatter of rain on the shutter, - And I am uneasy at the bursting of green shoots - Outside, in the night. - - Why are you not here to overpower me with your tense and - urgent love? - -A poet whose new book will soon be talked of said to me, when I showed -this to him, “Yes, it’s very clever, but it has no feeling.” He left the -office gladly in three minutes. - -Still there are worse things. _The Chicago Tribune_ sent a reporter to -the Little Theatre to hear Miss Lowell read and to record his impression -of her work and personality for those who still peruse the newspapers. -You may have seen the reporter’s article.... - -And still worse?... Lots of people have been splitting hairs over Amy -Lowell’s work, but no human being has been heard to remark: “A beautiful -thing is happening in America. Amy Lowell is writing poetry for us.” - - - - - Poems[2] - - - ELIZABETH GIBSON CHEYNE - - - The Cry - - Whenever there is silence around me, - By day or by night, - I am startled by the cry - “Take me down from the cross!” - The first time I heard it - I went out and searched - Till I found a man in the throes of crucifixion, - And I said, “I will take you down,” - And I tried to take the nails out of his feet, - But he said “Let be; - For I cannot be taken down - Till every man, every woman, and every child - Come together to take me down.” - And I said, “But I cannot bear your cry— - What can I do?” - And he said “Go about the world, - Telling everyone you meet - ‘There is a man upon the cross.’” - - - The Excuse - - I go about the world - Telling all the rich, - And all the happy, and all the comfortable, - “There is a man upon the cross.” - But they all say - “We are sure you are mistaken; - There was a man upon the cross - Two thousand years ago; - But he died, and was taken down - And was decently buried; - And a miracle happened, - So that he rose again - And ascended into Heaven, - And is happy evermore.” - Still I go about the world saying - “There is a man upon the cross.” - - - The Cross - - Any groveller - May be straightened by a cross - If he lies down upon it at night, - And sleeps upon it with outstretched arms; - If he rises in the morning, - And shoulders it bravely, - Neither resenting it - Nor being ashamed of it, - He will find that he can bring his eyes - To look upon life - Instead of upon the grave, - And that he will even be able - To lift them to the stars; - And that he can live - On the levels he is able to look upon. - ----------- - - [2] I do not know whether these poems have been published - elsewhere or not. They were read by Ellen Gates Starr in a mass - meeting in Kent Theatre on the University of Chicago campus—a - mass meeting in protest against police brutality during the - garment strike. - - - - - What Then—? - - - R. G. - -There are signs of life at the Art Institute. In throwing out Charles -Kinney, it stated the case against itself more emphatically than Kinney -ever could have done. When an “institution” becomes violent over -criticism there is too much work for one reformer. - -This seems to have been a season for things Art to be stating the case -against themselves. At the last meeting of the Chicago Society of -Artists, when there was a slight murmur of dissatisfaction with the -management of the Institute, one of the older men quickly reminded the -painters that they were but guests of the Institute—and there was -silence. Art has come by hard ways, but never to worse than this:—the -guest of the Corn Exchange Bank! - -Again at a meeting for the formation of the new Arts Club, before the -matter of the Club could be discussed there had to be a speech assuring -the Art Institute that the artists would never, in any way, _ever_ do -anything on their own, but would always conform to the ideas of the -directors of the Institute. But where they really proved themselves was -at the annual dinner, at the opening of the Chicago Artists’ Exhibition. -Herded into a room they meekly submitted to oyster stew and a speech by -a minister of the Gospel. Artists! That is their case as stated by -themselves. - -Kinney blames the directors pro tem., and the Dean, for the “factory -system” in the school. Knowing that all the small towns in the West and -Middle West having any kind of an Art School pattern after the Art -Institute, he is excited and fears the factory system will prevail -everywhere. But he might have hope that here and there accidentally a -few artists may get mixed up among the other students and frustrate this -plan. - -It would be interesting to know whether the administration by its -methods has so completely discouraged artists that they no longer seek -the Art Institute as a place of study, or whether the administration is -simply changing its methods to meet the demands of the kind of student -now attending the Institute. - -This much is certain: no administration could take away every ancient -prerogative of art students; lead them gently into organization; impose -discipline upon them; and appoint God a chaperone over their play—in -fact make a crêche of the school—if there were any of the stuff in them -of which artists are made. - -There always has been a fight on the part of the school to get what it -wanted from the directors; but things can be done. Read the list of -“illustrious names” of visiting instructors, years ago, and then compare -the student roll of the same time. Once the Art Institute was an art -school with art students, who were artists, who in spite of everything -led the life of artists, knew the analogy between painting and the other -Arts, swarmed to concerts and the theatres, and created their own -atmosphere. That was the time when Bernhardt came to the school in her -yellow-wheeled carriage and walked down a double line of quaking, -adoring art students. And when Calvé came to sing.... How many students -there now know these names, know anything beyond fashion drawing? - -They have indicted themselves. If there were artists the Art Institute -could seek exhibitions. If there were art students we could have an art -school, not a “factory.” And if the directors of the Art Institute and -its patrons really wanted Art, and the directors would throw the -Institute open to all kinds of exhibitions, we might even in time find -Art. - - - - - German Poetry - - - WILLIAM SAPHIER - -Learned essays on this or that poetry make little red devils dance in my -brain and my right hand reach for a Japanese sword. They are invariably -inferior to the spirit, and occupy only a small section of the horizon -of their subject. I have translated these three poems because I felt -that they were as good or better than the best things published in this -country, and because so little is known of this kind of German poetry -here. The first is by Julius Berstl and the second two are by Fritz -Schnack. I know of many more, but I am unable to get their work just -now. As you perhaps know, they are engaged at present in a different -direction. - - - Highland - - (_From the German of Julius Berstl_) - - Early light reflexes climb with rose fingers up the cliffs. - The chilly valley slumbers and cowers in its white fog bed, - But nude and cool, unearthly fine and clear, - Glitter the glacier chains. - - The morning wind faint-heartedly plays a lyre, - No bird strikes screaming through the distance; - It is as if the sound of a timid harp - Spreads with bird-like wings - Along the stone cliffs and over the valley. - - And now, as if breathed by the fragrance and dew, - Out of fog blossoms a wreath of meadows; - Behind them blooms a crystal glacier blue, - And a dream-laden delicate purple grey - Plays all around the giant mountains. - - - Young Days - - (_From the German of Fritz Schnack_) - - Soft, delicate morning air ripplings - Sway between the willow bushes - Rustling, as if a woman in silk ruchings - Passes over the meadows ... - Without end and blessedly far - Purls the cajoling sweetness. - O! how anxiously do I bear this air. - Like chords from the cloudland - Fall the deep shining days - Resounding in my trembling hand. - - - One Morning - - (_From the German of Fritz Schnack_) - - The light, - Flows spring-like out of the night, - And the big splashing wave - Spreads over the earth’s surface ... - White villas glisten in the light - Glowing all around with red roses; - Laughing young beauty blooms - On every threshold ... - - At a distance I stand and watch - And think: whoever thus can build ... - And longingly go my way. - - - - - An Isaiah Without A Christ - - -_And the word of the Lord came unto me, saying, Son of Man, prophesy, -and say thou unto them that prophesy out of their own hearts, hear ye -the word of the Lord; thus sayeth the Lord God: woe unto the foolish -prophets that follow their own spirit and have seen nothing. O Israel, -thy prophets are like foxes in the desert.—Ezekiel 13:1-4._ - - CHARLES ZWASKA - - - I. - -And the youth returned to his village and found it vile. In the City he -had seen visions of what a town might be.... Nicholas Vachel Lindsay had -been studying Art in Chicago and on his return to Springfield published, -in the fall of 1910, _The Village Magazine_: a scattering of verse, -prose, sketches, and ornamental designs and propaganda. “Talent for -poetry, deftness in inscribing, and skill in mural painting were -probably gifts of the same person”, he tells us later, in speaking of -the ancient Egyptians. “Let us go back”—the village must be redeemed. -The first editorial in the magazine was _On Conversion_. The people of -Springfield “should build them altars to the unknown God, the radiant -one; He whom they radiantly worship should be declared unto them in His -fullness.” The next was _An Editorial on Beauty for the Village -Pastor_—it expressed the belief that the Sunday-school, the Christian -Endeavor Society, the Brotherhood, Anti-Saloon League, and the Woman’s -Aid were the forces that were to bring about beauty. Springfield was to -be the new Athens! A broadside was distributed throughout the village: -_The Soul of the City receives the gift of the Holy Spirit_: - - Builders, toil on, - Make all complete. - Make Springfield wonderful - Make her renown - Worthy this day, - Till, at God’s feet— - - (_Etc., the poetry of the thing will not be spoiled by - omitting some lines here._) - - Heaven come down - City, dead city, - Arise from the dead. - -Verses like the above aside, here was revealed to us a poet; the -foundations were laid, it seemed, for a future. But the youth did dream -and see visions. Much was said about Utopias and the New Jerusalem, and -poetry languished in the youth that he might materialize some ultimate -world state. The most inexcusable optimism of them all—“Rome was not -built in a day.” True, but it _was built_: not merely talked about or -prophesied. And the youth remembered not that it hath been said in -Isaiah: “For, behold, I create a new heaven and a new earth: and the -former shall not be remembered nor come into mind.” Yet the youth -remembered the former still and did say much about the recoming of those -civilizations which had been, at last to stay forever! His day, or the -great poet who proceeded him by but a few years, he seemed to notice -not: - - What do you think endures? - Do you think a great city endures? ... - Away! these are not to be cherished in themselves, - They fill their hour, the dancers dance, the musicians play for them, - The show passes, all does well enough of course, - All does very well till one flash of defiance ... - A great city is that which has the greatest men and women; - If it be a few ragged huts it is still the greatest city in the whole - world. - -But the youth was at heart the poet, the dreamer, attempting to convince -by arguments, similes, rhymes; not as the great Poet, by mere presence! -Nor could he stand the offer of rough new prizes, preferring the smooth -old prizes. He clung to the organizations of the day, and to augment -their “influence toward the Millennium” he published _The Village -Magazine_. That, gentle reader, was in 1910. - - - II. - -In the year 1912 there went forth from Springfield this same lad. Into -the West he went—through Nebraska, Kansas, Oklahoma, and into New -Mexico. He went preaching a gospel,—his own “Gospel of Beauty.” His -sustenance he earned by reciting his own rhymes to those who were -willing, in exchange, to give him bread. Thus did he make us -uncomfortably imagine him a new John the Baptist, François Villon, or -even Saint Francis of Assisi.... In the year 1914 his account of this -adventure was published. Three rhymes, he claims, contained his “theory -of American civilization.” This is from one of them: - - O you who lose the art of hope, - - . . . . . . - - Turn to the little prairie towns, - Your high hope shall yet begin. - On every side awaits you there - Some gate where glory enters in. - -And “At the end of the Road”—by faith and a study of the signs—he -proclaimed the New Jerusalem for America, particularly for his -home-village.... Now, there is a peculiar value attached to this -journey—the influence on the poet, not the preacher’s influence on the -people. It was after this trip that we got _The Santa Fé Trail_, _The -Fireman’s Ball_, written in a style in which were later written _The -Chinese Nightingale_ and _The Congo_. And, because of the relation of -its style to these, we even judge _I heard Emmanuel Singing_ a good -thing. This, then, is Lindsay’s importance among us; his contribution of -this style of vaudeville chanting. This is the poet. He does not count -when writing _Galahad_, _Knight Who Perished_, _King Arthur’s Men Have -Come Again_, _Incense_, _Springfield Magical_, or declaring “by faith -and a study of the signs.” - - - III. - -On November first, 1915, at Springfield, Illinois, Vachel Lindsay signed -a book on _The Art of the Moving Picture_. The last chapter was called -“The Acceptable Year of the Lord.” From having seen forecastings in -photoplay hieroglyphics the children in times-to-come can rise and say: -“This day is the scripture fulfilled in your ears”: - - Scenario writers, producers, photoplay actors, endowers of - exquisite films, sects using special motion pictures for a - predetermined end, all you who are taking the work as a sacred - trust, I bid you God-speed. Consider what it will do to your - souls, if you are true to your trust.... The record of your - ripeness will be found in your craftsmanship. You will be God’s - thoroughbreds. - - It has come then, this new weapon of men, and the face of the - whole earth changes. In after centuries its beginning will be - indeed remembered. - - It has come, this new weapon of men, and by faith and a study of - the signs we proclaim that it will go on and on in immemorial - wonder. - -This, then, is the prophecy, and thus has he proclaimed it: “By my -hypothesis, Action Pictures are sculpture-in-motion, Intimate -Pictures are paintings-in-motion, Splendour Pictures are -architecture-in-motion.... The rest of the work is a series of after -thoughts and speculations not brought forward so dogmatically.” - -Now, the Arts are complete in themselves; they contain all. The moving -picture has come to be a parasite on them. - -Sculpture has become a vital thing to this age because of August Rodin. -Meunier has moved us too. Also Monolo and Fagi. Now comes Lindsay: “I -desire for the moving picture not the stillness but the majesty of -sculpture.... Not the mood of Venus de Milo, but let us turn to that -sister of hers—the great Victory of Samothrace”. - -... I have seen much of Lindsay’s advice followed word for word since -this book of his was published. Tyrone Power in _The Dream of Eugene -Aram_. Power’s face and figure were more majestic on the stage than in -this picture. There was a “sculpture-group,” as you would call it, in -this picture—a farmer and two squires on a hilltop. It was in -silhouette, a _sketch_ and not sculpture. The nearest I have seen to the -majesty and immobility of sculpture, marble or otherwise, was the head -of William S. Hart in _The Aryan_. The picture was shadowed so as to -center on his poetic face, the fascination of which none but Forbes -Robertson’s has. Hart’s face on the screen, his eyes looking into the -eyes of you, at his throat a handkerchief of white—a bust by an artist -indeed! But the shadows parted, and the hieroglyphic-crowded background -came into view. Hart’s head moved, became part of a _moving picture_ and -sculpture was no more. The moment was worth it—but it _moved_.... -“Moving pictures are pictures and not sculpture”, says Lorado Taft in a -public statement, objecting to Lindsay’s phrase. “To a sculptor the one -thing cherished as most essential to his art is its static quality, its -look of absolute quiescence. It is the hint of eternity which marks and -makes all monumental art”.... Has Lindsay no feeling for sculpture? - -Frank Lloyd Wright has models in plaster of some of his -buildings—“modern” skyscrapers, hotels, and homes, growing, rising -upward, white and beautiful. It was these works of architecture which -called forth the phrase “flowers in stone”. He alone, it seems, has made -art of architecture in our day. He objects to Lindsay saying his art can -be that of moving pictures; its very literalness, its actualness being -the very negation of the soul and constitution of art. In _The Dumb Girl -of Portici_ the Smalleys, as inspired as any of the producers, used the -entire Field Museum in Jackson Park, Chicago, as a background for a -pageant of Italian royalty, of the middle ages. Insisting on -architecture can spoil pictures. It did this one. - -Painting-in-motion—rhythm. Rhythm seems alien to the application of the -theory of jerky fade-away close-ups. “Intimate Dutch interior” scenes -fading into the close-up and then back into the entire scene again. -Intimate, friendly, and moving, but lacking in rhythm and the flow of -naturalness. Some think that “moving lines”, made an art in themselves, -will be an achievement of the moving film. Have you ever been struck -dumb by the lines made by a dancer across the stage, the moving of life -across life? I have seen it in the moving-picture only in the flight of -gulls (unconscious actors) or in pictures of rivers and trees and the -sea; in short—nature. But nature is nature. The painter’s art! -Botticelli’s _Spring_, or _The Birth of Venus_—pictures containing the -essence of rhythmic natural movement. Never yet have the movies given us -this. If Lindsay must prophesy and “take the masses back to art” there -_are_ artists living today—who are for today. Lindsay seems to know -nothing of them. His knowledge of painting seems to have stopped with -his art school days. The later work of Jerome Blum, for example, has -this movement, this rhythm, not only in composition and line but in the -_color_ as well. Reds and greens and blues that vibrate, paintings that -live. - -The rest of this might be entitled: “An open letter to Vachel Lindsay”, -for it is “not so dogmatically set forth” and is mere man-to-man talk. - -I have seen most of your suggestions swallowed whole by moving-picture -makers.... Your hieroglyphics idea—well, James Oppenheim was an -accomplice in that. “On Coming Forth by Day” or your suggestion to use -the Book of the Dead—a Chicago woman, the patient, too-patient, -beautifully reverent Lou Wall Moore has been working for years on an -adaptation of one of the books which, when it does appear on the stage, -will have more rhythm and terrible swiftness than ever your moving -picture could, the splendor of color, space, height, distance, and most -magical of all, the voice: - - Priest: Men pass away since the time of Ra - And the youths come in their stead. - As Ra reappears every morning - And Tum sets in the west, - Men are begetting and women conceiving; - Each nostril inhales once the breeze of the dawn; - But all born of women go down to their places. - -As for your “too ruthless a theory” of having silence in the theatre, or -rather just the hum of conversation, let me tell you of the -“midnight-movies” in our town: Can you imagine a crowd of people -standing in line outside a theatre at one or a quarter after in the -morning? And inside an audience—or optience?!—which for interest and -variety can equal any of the moving-pictures shown or yet to be shown. I -wish you could hear the ludicrous, cutting, knowing remarks made by -these people about your pictures, when, after twelve-thirty the piano -stops, and the oppressive silence outweighs the interest of the picture. -(The piano formerly stopped at eleven, but the management decided that -the only way to maintain order was to keep the piano going.) Well, the -silence never lasts: snoring, wheezing, roaring, shouting and laughing -and calls for “Silence”, “Wake up, the rest of us wanna sleep”, “You’re -off key”, or “What time shall I call, sir?” These people are here: -business men; newsboys, hobos, drunks, who sleep here all night; -salesmen; night clerks; telegraphers; bell-boys; hotel and restaurant -maids; scrub-women; actors; vaudevillians; cabaret singers; pressmen; -newspapermen; chauffeurs, teamsters; traveling men; gentlemen of -leisure; painted youths and scented women. They “get” the psychology of -the pictures. Helen’s hazards call forth telegraph tappings to each -other; close-ups showing jealousy, rage, or overdone emotion get -“woof-woofs” and howls and hoots; the murder prevented “just in time” -gets its sarcasms; and “immoral situations” their due appreciation. -But—this, which seemed on the way to become our most individual phase of -night-life, is passing. The jolly manager, who passed up and down the -aisle like a hen among her brood, keeping us awake until one o’clock, -has been replaced by a uniformed policeman; the council has legislated -women out after two o’clock; and a “ride in the wagon” or ejection faces -the one who would “get gay”. Now, as a place of interest, it is passing -in this day of short-lived gayety and censored originality. The Law, -Lindsay, will not allow your plan to work. In the neighborhoods?—the -audiences themselves do not know why they are there. Why disturb them? - -Your educational film also I have seen applied. _Saved From the Flames_ -worked out in co-operation with the New York Fire department. It teaches -a lesson. So does _The Human Cauldron_—your own phrase, I believe, taken -from the first line of page forty-two, your book. This picture was done -with the aid of the New York Police department. Both were stupid, inane -in story and treatment, and on the whole a bore. Even Walthall couldn’t -save _The Raven_ from cardboard clouds and angels and “visions”. - -Your scenario, the “second cousin to the dream that will one day come -forth”, seems quite symbolic of your prophecies. Pallas Athena, Jeanne -D’Arc, and Our Lady Springfield; a treeless hill top in Washington Park: -this then is the rank of the Goddesses. Springfield is to have secular -priests and her patriots are irresolute! “Without prophecy there can be -no fulfillment. Without Isaiah there can be no Christ”.—A truly -Christian interpretation of the Hebrew’s great Isaiah, to whom Christ -was but a disciple! But so you will have it.... We need Isaiahs and John -the Baptists, but they were prophets and fore-runners of a Christ, a -personality—not a Utopia, World State or International Brotherhood. If -you appear before us as an Isaiah we demand to hear of your Christ. You -recognize the demand of Confucius for rectification of names. Do you -realize Nietzsche’s transvaluations for our day? Faith as opposed to -affirmation! Zarathustra has spoken! There is now the mountain peak—and -you are still rhyming about a hill top. - - - - - Announcements - - - “_The Weavers_” - -Gerhardt Hauptmann’s Weavers is coming to Chicago! It begins a limited -engagement at the Princess Theatre Sunday night, April 2. If you don’t -go—well, we will pray for you. - -It is to be the same production with which Emanuel Reicher stirred New -York this winter. Mr. Reicher is no longer with the company, having -finally given up the struggle of trying to make a financial success of -art and truth. His stage director, Augustin Duncan, who is a man of -vision and ability, has formed the actors into a co-operative company, -and they have been struggling through various cities where their efforts -have been intensely though not largely appreciated. This is to be -expected; but surely in Chicago they ought to find an audience. - -P. S.—Since I wrote the above _The Weavers_ has opened, and I have heard -how the first-night audience laughed where it should have applauded and -guffawed when it should have recognized something fine. - - - _Margaret Sanger in Chicago_ - -There is an announcement on the cover page of two of Margaret Sanger’s -lectures in Chicago, and others may be arranged after she gets here. We -have got into the habit of looking upon birth control as a thing in -which everybody believes, and which almost everybody practices whether -they believe in it or not. It seems quite superfluous to keep on talking -about it. But then you remember that Emma Goldman has been arrested for -talking about it, and that when her trial comes up—some time this month -or in May—it is quite within the possibilities that she may spend a year -in prison for her crime. That is something none of us could face without -a kind of insanity. So please don’t be content with merely abusing the -government: send your protests to the District Attorney and it may help -a great deal. - -Any one who wishes to arrange for further lectures by Mrs. Sanger may -write to Fania Mindell, care THE LITTLE REVIEW. - - - _The Rupert Brooke Memorial_ - -It has been decided to set up in Rugby Chapel, England, a memorial of -Rupert Brooke in the form of a portrait-medallion in marble. The -medallion will be the work of Professor J. Havard Thomas, and is to be -based on the portrait by Schell. Contributions not exceeding five -dollars may be sent to Maurice Browne, Chicago Treasurer, Rupert Brooke -Memorial Fund, 434 Fine Arts Building, Michigan Avenue, and will be sent -to England without deduction. Money left over after the completion of -the medallion will be given to the Royal Literary Fund. Mr. Browne adds -that the nickels and dimes of those who wish to make their offering, but -cannot afford the larger sum, will be welcomed in the spirit of their -giving; also that he believes there are many admirers of Rupert Brooke -and his work in Chicago who will welcome the opportunity to pay in some -measure their debt to the poet, particularly remembering that this city -stimulated and interested him more than any other in America. - - - _Jerome Blum’s New Work_ - -Beginning April 15 Mr. Blum will have a two-weeks’ exhibit of paintings -done on a recent trip through China and Japan, at O’Brien’s Art -Galleries, 334 South Michigan Avenue. At the same time Mrs. Blum will -exhibit some Chinese and Japanese figures—and there is one especially -that we prophesy will be talked of. It is of a weary-eyed Chinese -philosopher, the art of which has been put into words by a painter: “He -has seen everything, so he doesn’t look any more; he has done -everything—so he folds his hands.” - - - _The Vers Libre Prize Contest_ - -Two of the judges for our contest have been chosen. They will be Helen -Hoyt and Zoë Akins. The third will be announced in the next issue, and -the contest will be continued until August 15, as it seems wiser not to -close it before it has been fully heralded. All details will be found on -page 40. - - - “_A Lost Tune_” - -Between April 25 and May 7 Mr. Stanislaw Saukalski will give our soft -teeth a chance to crack a hard nut at the Art Institute. The “Lost Tune” -will lead the flaming lava of this young volcano. Will the readers of -THE LITTLE REVIEW send in their impressions of this sculptor’s work? We -may print some of them.—_L. de B._ - - - _When You Buy Books_— - -Won’t readers remember to order their books through the Gotham Book -Society? You can get any book you want from them, whether it is listed -in their advertisement or not, and THE LITTLE REVIEW makes a percentage -on the sales. Our margin of profit per book is small, but it all helps -very much and the continuation of the magazine depends upon just such -co-operation. We have two thousand subscribers. If each one of them -would order one dollar’s worth of books a month we should make about two -hundred dollars out of it,—which would pay for two issues of the -magazine and enable us to eat regularly besides. Will you please -remember? - - - _The Russian Literature Group_ - -Alexander Kaun’s next lecture on Russian Literature will be on -Dostoevsky, and will be given April 16, at 8:30 P. M., in 612 Fine Arts -Building. Mr. Kaun is becoming more interesting with each lecture—by -which I mean that he is revealing more of Kaun the artist, and less of -Kaun the professor. - - - _Independent Society of Artists_ - -The first international exhibition of this new organization will be held -on April 4 in the Ohio Building, Wabash Avenue and Congress Street, from -three to seven P. M. - - - “_Because of the War_”— - -Paper is going up. We can’t help looking ugly this month. - - - The Beautiful and the Terrible. Which is which will never be put - into words. But I am free to tell myself; and let me but preserve - the senses—my eyes, my ears, my touch, and all shall be well—all - shall seem far more beautiful than terrible—_Gordon Craig._ - - - Only fanaticism is possible for phlegmatic natures.—_Nietzsche._ - - - - - Flamingo Dreams - - - LUPO DE BRAILA - -A burst of passion in a pagan god’s eye was the sunrise as I saw it from -the top of Mount Rose one morning last summer. Trembling and with -squinting eyes I looked at the grand spectacle, fearing to go blind if I -opened my eyes. - -The sun stretched its arms and with flaming fingers lifted the -bluish-grey blanket from the Nevada hills and the Truckee Valley. -Feeling that the beauty of this moment could not be surpassed, I turned -my face toward California and ran down the western side of Mount Rose. - -One day last week when the massive shoulders of Jerome Blum stepped in -between me and a canvas that had transformed his studio into a strange -land for me, I wanted to hold his hands for fear the next canvas would -take the joy produced by the one in front of me. He came back from an -eight-months’ trip through Japan and China recently, and he brought with -him over twenty paintings with pulsating nature and unrestrained joy in -every one of them. The rhythmic lines dance through the curling roofs -and weird trees—and all of them are bathed in sunshine. At the same time -they are a close study of this strange land, its people and their -habits, by a forceful and unusual artist—a man who says “yes” to nature -in no uncertain terms. His bold colors are handled in a most sensitive -manner, and when I wanted to place him among the Chicago artists I found -that he belongs to an entirely different class and could not even be -compared to some of the vacillating and doubtful men who paint in this -town. - -He has a portrait of a Chinese girl in a green gown, and some scenes -along a canal and in a Chinese garden, that have tempted my usually -honest mind to some queer contemplations. I have found myself wandering -to the windows and other unusual entrances to his studio, figuring out -how one might find access to that place without a key and at a certain -dark hour. I have only one hope left now of owning one in a figurative -way, and it is that the trustees of the Art Institute may see the light -and.... - -I hope Jerome Blum will not be compelled, like some of the best men this -country has produced, to go to other shores to gain the recognition due -a man of his ability. A few weeks ago I saw one of the older trustees -spend considerable time before a canvas by a Boston painter that lacked -all that goes to make a work of art,—a canvas on which the artist, with -the aid of a pointed stick, had tried to prod his dead and colorless -paint into some kind of motion. In spite of this I still believe that -they will rise to the high intellectual and artistic understanding that -they are supposed to possess, but which they have failed to display up -to the present, as far as modern art is concerned. - -It is impossible for me to describe any of Blum’s canvases except to say -that they tear you away from the dirty grey and ill-smelling Chicago, to -a country you have seen in your dreams as a child. We will have a chance -to see this artist’s work, beginning April fifteenth, at O’Brien’s, on -Michigan Boulevard. - -Lucille Swan Blum will exhibit at the same time and place some very -graceful Japanese dancers, Chinese children, Corean, Chinese, and -Japanese mothers with their babies and other far-eastern types. Best of -all is a Chinese philosopher, reduced almost to design to emphasize the -idea of the age and wisdom of this people—folded hands, an emotionless -face, all seeing eyes.... - - - In the end one experienceth nothing but himself.—_Nietzsche._ - - - - - New York Letter - - - (_A scattering of words anent Washington Square, “Henry VIII”, - Yvette Guilbert, “The Merry Wives of Windsor”, and sundry other - things and people, as far as space and time allow._) - - ALLAN ROSS MACDOUGALL - -From my garret window I look out on Washington Square. Snow and ice -still lie there, and the trees are black and mean. - -On the first page of his new book, “_Moby Lane and Thereabouts_”, Neil -Lyons says: “Spring has many ushers, and is heralded by divers signs. -Some people look for these signs among the hedgerows; others seek them -in the sky, or listen for them in the night, whilst other people neither -look or listen, but go smelling about, or stand upon hill-tops, -tasting.” My sign shall be, I think, the grimy trees of the Square. And -sometimes as I sit here looking out on the icy barrenness I wonder if, -when Spring’s breath does touch the earth, whether flowers will come -up—flowers that I long to see: crocuses, anemones, daffodils. It’s all -very well to see them in shop windows, but God! to see them come up out -of the earth and unfold! But I fear our Square is too sophisticated. I -know a man will come—a common tobacco-chewing man with a stunted soul -who belongs to a Union and gets paid so much coin by the hour—and he -will arrange squares, and oblongs, and diamond shaped plots of earth. -Then will he proceed laboriously and without joy to stick tulips or some -other straight official flower into these geometrical, soulless -patterns. And throughout the year in the Square, nature will be kept in -bounds and orders. - - - “_Henry VIII_” - -It seems scarcely possible that Sir Herbert Tree would have the calm -artistic audacity to come to this country and present his production of -“Henry VIII” in the moth-eaten scenery and costumes that were used in -the London production in the year 1910. Yet he did, and oh! the -wearisome drab antiquity of it all! But the “People” liked it and gave -the beknighted actor-manager “one of the greatest premieres that New -York has witnessed these many years”. - -Mention is made in the programme of “the inspiring aerchiological -advice” of Percy Macquoid, R. I. The advice may have been quite -inspiring. I do not doubt it. But the results of that advice! That -medley of costumes! Those photo scenes of Windsor Castle and Blackfriars -Hall and Westminster Abbey! They were bad when first conceived and -painted, and five years in a London storeroom has not improved them to -any degree compatible with their presentation to an audience that has -looked upon the work of Bakst, Urban, Jones, Sime, and Rothenstein. - -And what can be said of the lighting? There was one comic spotlight that -followed Sir Herbert (or ought I to say Wolsey? I hardly know; they were -never quite distinct) around the stage like a little motherless puppy. -Sometimes it went before, sometimes it frisked after, on the tail of his -magnificent scarlet gown. It had a grand time! But it never seemed to be -doing the thing it ought to be doing. - -But let me not bore you as these things bored me. Pass we now to the -acting. In London the honors of the play were carried off by Arthur -Bouchier as Henry, and his wife, Violet Vanburgh, as Katherine. A -repetition was performed here. Lyn Harding as Henry, and Edith Wynne -Matheson as Katherine, carried every one before them. And Tree? Well, he -had his moments. There was his superb entrance with the look he flashed -at Buckingham: fine too was the acting in the scene of his downfall. -Between these two highlights such ordinary acting has seldom been seen -in a man of Tree’s reputation. In a cold classic way Miss Matheson was -splendid. I liked her much, and but for her some of the scenes in the -play would have been colourless. There was the usual mob of supers who -got caught in doorways and tripped over furniture, but on the whole they -behaved as well as an ordinary stage manager can make such people -behave. - - - _Yvette Guilbert_ - -Five years ago I saw Yvette Guilbert in London. I loved her all. Her red -hair; the skinny arms of her, clothed in long black gloves; and her -Gallic body with the low-necked white crinoline that gowned it. And how -she sang!! And her acting! For five years I have carried the memory of -her around with me, matching other people up with her but never finding -her equal. On Sunday, March nineteenth, I saw her again. The black -gloves and the white crinoline were gone, and she had grown a little -stouter. The red hair was there, and the smile. Her voice had changed a -bit and her personality had mellowed. She sang songs that were grave and -moving, like Fiona Macleod’s _Prayer of Women_, and others that were gay -and jocular, like _The Curé Servant_. But whatever she sang—and I didn’t -know a word of what she sang—carried me away completely. Not a mood did -I miss—not a suggestion of a mood. Perfect is her art. She has my -adoration. - - - “_The Merry Wives of Windsor_” - -The latest addition to the Shakespeare Festival that is being thrust -upon the apathetic people of this place is the Hackett-Allen production -of _The Merry Wives of Windsor_. Three things can be said without any -further comment. Joseph Urban did the stage settings. Richard Ordynski -directed the production. Willy Pogany designed the costumes. Gordon -Craig says somewhere that any medium is easier to work in than human -beings. After seeing the work expended on _The Merry Wives of Windsor_ -by three geniuses, and watching the actors in that play, we understand -completely. - - - _Soulless New York_ - -Witter Bynner, grown somber and blase,—the effect of living in soulless -New York, he says—has become a sort of Greek Chorus to me. In various -strophes with divers variations, in sundry public and private places, he -chants the dismal fact that New York is soulless and that there is a -danger of it robbing me of my joy in life. Not while its streets remain -as they are will I lose the joy I possess! I cannot remember any city -that I have been in where my sense of the comic has been tickled so -often by happenings in the streets. So many comedies are enacted by the -curbstone, so many quaintly funny things happen every hour on the -streets, that it would be impossible for me to forget how jolly life -really is. Of course I see tragedies too, but they seem to be there only -for the purpose of balance! - -For some time to come I’ll Dalcroze down the avenues and numerical -by-ways of this “soulless” city. And my smile will always be handy; and -my whistle wet, ready to pipe _Gathering Peascods_ or _The Parson’s -Farewell_ or anything merry and bright to dance to. - - - To save the theatre, the theatre must be destroyed, the actors - and actresses must all die of the plague. They poison the air, - they make art impossible. It is not drama they play, but pieces - for the theatre. We should return to the Greeks, play in the open - air; the drama dies of stalls and boxes and evening dress, and - people who come to digest their dinner.—_Eleonora Duse._ - - - - - The Theatre - - - “Overtones” - -Alice Gerstenberg, who dramatized _Alice in Wonderland_, wrote -_Overtones_, evidently as an experiment, and had it produced in New -York. Now it is crowding vaudeville houses. As an experiment only is it -important. Cyril Harcourt intends collaborating with Miss Gerstenberg to -produce a three-act play on the same lines: characters being followed by -their “real selves”, veiled, with voices confused. A Shaw play might be -done this way—it is a method effective for moralizing and bringing home -a point. But why would Darling Dora need an overtone or an undertone; or -Blanco Posnet or Fanny’s Father? If there is any reason for the dramatic -presentation of characters at all it is the drama of themselves—their -actions and their thoughts as opposed to those of others.... Imagine -Rebecca West being followed through three acts by a “real self”; or -Ulric Brendel—“... I am homesick for the mighty nothingness”. - - - “The New Manner” - - (_Vague Questionings_) - -It evidently means—this phrase—“that which is _accepted_ as new”.... -There are signs of our dangerously settling down to flat brilliant -backgrounds, spots of vivid color, and much _mention_ of “important as -decoration”. It seems an unhealthy acquiescence.... “Is desire a thing -of nothing, that a five-years’ quest can make a parody of it? Your whole -life is not too long, and then only at the very end will some small atom -of what you have desired come to you.”—Gordon Craig in his _Art of the -Theatre_. It looks as if we are due for a period of the old, old, -three-walled room with the new, new, “new” color.... I don’t believe we -will find the future in Michael Carr’s butterfly proscenium and -moving-picture screen shadows; but, surely, it is not _The Man Who -Married a Dumb Wife_, or _Androcles and the Lion_, although Barker’s -_Midsummer Night’s Dream_ costumes are the most far-reaching -originalities yet seen. Nor will it be like _A Pair of Silk Stockings_, -_The Sabine Women_, _Overtones_, _The Charity that Began at Home_, _The -Taming of the Shrew_, nor Urban and his present enormous New York output -of “designs” and “follies”. Our only light seems to come from Gordon -Craig’s work in Florence. “In his work is the incalculable element; the -element that comes of itself and cannot be coaxed into coming”. Or from -Sam Hume’s enthusiasm over the “Dome”; Reinhardt, of course, has almost -acquired his permanent “angle of repose”—the newness of the American -stage being, in fact, the Reinhardt of yesterday. If I had my way, I’d -destroy all books about the theatre excepting those of Gordon Craig, for -inspiration, or those of Arthur Symons for appreciation.... Then, -perhaps, we should begin to understand the Theatre. - - - Bernhardt on Reinhardt - -Sarah Bernhardt has been playing a patriotic play, _Les Cathedrales_, in -London. “It is such a great play I intend taking it into the provinces -and then back to London again”, she says. We have said it is a patriotic -play; nothing more need be said. Bernhardt plays one of the seven -cathedrals, _Strasburg_. In the interview, quoted above, given to the -London magazine, _Drawing_, Bernhardt has also this to say: “And now, it -seems to me that artists in the Allied Countries, and also authors, -painters, composers, and all those concerned in the theatre have to bind -themselves into a league for removing all traces of German nature and -influence from our plays and theatres.... Now the German showman -Reinhardt flooded Paris and London with the Berliner deluge of the -spectacular. He claims artistic superiority on the grounds of having -introduced several novel trivialities. But to trace the real curve of -truth I must say that he did nothing of the kind. He merely revived, in -_Sumurun_ and _Oedipus Rex_, certain outworn conventions which existed -before his time! But he has not the honesty to acknowledge it.” Later -she does say something worth thinking over: “What he has done is to use -Eastern methods for Western ideas when he should have used Eastern ideas -for Western methods.” Plagiarism is an irrelevant charge to bring -against an artist, but acknowledging an artistic right to adaptation -means expansion and, despite nationalism, a universal one-ness. - - - - - Book Discussion - - - “And Lesser Things” - - _“—— and Other Poets”, by Louis Untermeyer. New York: Henry Holt - and Company._ - -Very, very clever. The ultimate emptiness of cleverness. These parodies -are “not a piece of buffoonery so much as a critical exposition”,—the -poet expects them to approach this “elevated and illuminating” standard; -but they never reach satire, which is really the thing that is covered -by the above quotation from Isaac Disraeli. - -Untermeyer’s verse, including _Challenge_ and that so quantitatively -published in the magazines,—still speaking comparatively,—has the same -relation to poetry as Urban’s scenery for _The Follies_ has to his -Boston Opera settings; or of all of Urban’s work to that of the numerous -German poster school of five or eight years ago. Untermeyer is lenient -in parodying poets of his own ilk—but it is easy to determine which of -those he does not respect by his obvious, spiteful absurdities. - -For years now newspaper paragraphers, “poets”, and editors have been -saying such things as “It is time we are getting ourselves talked about” -when mentioning Ezra Pound. Untermeyer stoops to it; he is still the -“once born” when being “critical” about Amy Lowell: “A blue herring -sings”. What he is really parodying here is his colleague Walt Mason’s -prose-printed jingles which are syndicated throughout newspaperdom; he -is not giving a “critical exposition” of polyphonic prose. It will need -a keener critic or poet than he to do it—or to produce a parody or -satire whose art equals that of the thing satired—Masters’s things for -example. By ambling through thirty-seven lines Untermeyer imagines that -he is being master of the situation as regards Masters. And the last -line of the parody on James Oppenheim might very well have been written -by Untermeyer himself as one of his own: “Clad in the dazzling splendor -of my awakened self”.... No matter what may have been your attitude -toward the poets parodied these things leave your feelings -unchanged—except that he makes more definite your attitude towards him. - - - Impartial and Otherwise - - _The Making of Germany, by Ferdinand Schevill. Chicago: A. C. - McClurg and Company._ - - _Great Russia, by Charles Sarolea. New York: Alfred A. Knopf._ - - _Imperial Germany and the Industrial Revolution, by Thorstein - Veblen. New York: Macmillan._ - -These books are not war-literature—a compliment not often deserved in -these days of ink-war demoralization. The lay, unbiased reader, who is -inclined to learn facts rather than to find interpretations -substantiating his prejudices, will enjoy the three books as a rare -treat. They are very much unlike. Mr. Schevill is a historian par -excellence, and lends a broad perspective to the related facts. He also -lends a rich romantic flavor to his narrative, an emotional -undercurrent—so unfrequent a feature with academic writers. His point of -view may not be universally acceptable; even in history there are events -and phenomena which belong to the autonomous region of taste and -opinion. The scene of the triumphant Prussians solemnizing their victory -in Versailles, for example, may arouse differing emotions and -reflections. Mr. Schevill bows in reverence before the three heroic -figures of Emperor William (“not unlike the legendary Barbarossa”), -Bismarck, and Moltke. We may likewise not share his enthusiasm for the -German idea of State, as superior to Anglo-Saxon individualism. But we -cannot help admiring the general brilliancy of the treatment of the -gigantic subject, and if we are capable of getting instructed, our -reading of the book will amply reward us. - -M. Sarolea is a Belgian, hence pro-Ally and anti-German, hence -unreservedly Russophil, hence not wholly impartial. It is a poor service -to Russia, the unqualified praise of all her institutions and traits on -the part of her friends. Exaggerated eulogy is apt to arouse suspicion. -If M. Sarolea had interchanged his Mercurian sprightliness for Professor -Veblen’s solidity, both would have gained considerably. Mr. Veblen takes -us as far back as the pre-historic Baltic tribes in order to prove his -point of the peculiar aptitude of the Prussians for borrowing. He -certainly succeeds in his attempt, but at the expense of the reader’s -patience and eye-sight which is subjected to the perusal of endless -pages of miniature type. His scientific style is surcharged with -profound sarcasm, and if you are fond of delicate subtleties the book -will afford you “great sport.” Schevill, historian; Sarolea, publicist; -Veblen, economist—the common feature of the three, particularly of the -first and of the last, is respect for the reader who is treated with -facts and not with phantoms for the sake of argument. - - K. - - - - - The Reader Critic - - - “SPIRITUAL ADVENTURES” - -_Anonymous_: - -At your suggestion I have begun to read Arthur Symons’s “Spiritual -Adventures.” - -“Christian Trevelga” strikes me, as you predicted, most strongly so far. -Symons is one of the subtlest of minds; everything he writes is worth -reading. This is of his best certainly. What is one to make of him? I -don’t know. I don’t know whether his kind of subtlety is of any earthly -value, or whether it is as valuable as Shelley’s. I can never give up -faith in the human race quite as completely as he does, nor adopt his -attitude of autocratic detachment; yet I never seem to have any real -faith, either.—_Vae victis!_ - -He is removed from all sense of human values, and lost, always, in -abstract patterns. This particular story is an extraordinary expression -of him—of the prizes and peril of such a state. Oh, hell! what an insult -is put upon us when we are invited to live, and to make such a choice. - -Perhaps one makes it: then he is not happy until he has lost himself in -an art that is “something more than an audible dramatization of human -life.” Perhaps he is right. But— - -But—but— - -Sometimes I _know_ that for the greatest artist there would be no chasm -between what the heart desires and what the mind constructs. Tell me how -to do that in poetry and I’ll give you a dollar. Perhaps it can be done -in music—I don’t know. But in poetry the human heart and the -mathematical soul are always fighting—and so far as I know they have not -yet come to an agreement—not in English poetry, at least. The artist and -the human being never get to be bedfellows. It’s either sickening -humanitarianism or stark designing—the second is the less painful. - -Well!—I loathe the world, including Symons and all the arts. - -_Ezra Pound, London_: - -Thanks for the January-February issue. Your magazine seems to be looking -up. A touch of light in Dawson and Seiffert—though THE LITTLE REVIEW -seems to me rather scrappy and unselective. I thought you started out to -prove Ficke’s belief that the sonnet is “Gawd’s own city.” However, he -seems to have abandoned that church. I still don’t know whether you send -me the magazine in order to encourage me in believing that my camp stool -by Helicon is to be left free from tacks, or whether the paper is sent -to convert me from error. - -I am glad to see in it some mention of Eliot, who is really of interest. - -_The Egoist_ is about to publish Joyce’s “A Portrait of the Artist as a -Young Man” in volume form (since no grab-the-cash firm will take it) and -do Lewis’s “Tarr” as a serial. I think you will be interested in the two -novels, and I hope you will draw attention to them, and to the sporting -endeavor of _The Egoist_ to do in this dark isle what the _Mercure_ has -so long done in France, i. e., publish books as well as a magazine. - -Incidentally, Chicago should not depend on New York for its books. - -_Anonymous_: - -Will you ask that Lollipop Vender man, in the March issue, what happened -to his little dirigible? He was sailing along dropping bombs, hitting -the mark every time, when something seemed to happen and he came limply -wobbling down to—nothing. - -I hope the last half of that article was not meant to be satire or wit -or anything like that. He speaks with too much authority to have much -sense of humor, and—ye gods!—the situation is far too desperate for -wit—of that kind. Now there’s Bartlett—read what he says of Bartlett! -Haven’t we answered all attacks for years with “There’s Bartlett”? It -was only intuition and self-preservation on our part at first, -perhaps—but now hasn’t Bartlett proved that he is a “real artist”? He is -off to New York to live. - -How he does wobble when he comes to his list of “able and honest”. - -Poor Parker! that he should have to go into the list of best men, -too—that list! The man _can_ paint—technic seems to be only a -superstition now but it once had a place in Art. Parker has that at -least. Wendt, Buehr, Ravlin, and Davis should be rescued from the “able -and honest” before your critic collapses completely in referring to -Clarkson and Oliver Dennet Grover as some of “their best men.” Ask him -anyway—what happened? - -_Alice Groff, Philadelphia_: - -Why did not Sherwood Anderson write up “Vibrant Life” clean and true? -Why did he not have the courage to paint every one of those emotions in -clear color—to outline every one of those actions in the beauty of -naturalness? Why does he artificialize everything? Is he afraid of the -crouching tigers of conventional morality? - -Why should not vibrant life assert itself after its kind, even in the -presence of death? What desecration was there in this man and woman -coming together in such presence, drawn by the invincible magnetism of -sex? What of falsity to life was there in the lawyer’s giving and -answering the call of life as to this woman, even though he had a wife -whom he loved? - -Why conjure up an atmosphere of guilt that neither man nor woman felt? -Why suggest such hair-bristling horror as to the accidental overturning -of a dead man’s body, any more than over the accidental upsetting of a -vase, or a statue, in the course of a dance? Why such strained effort to -make that specialized expression of vibrant life which is the very -pivotal centre of all life appear as the degradation of degradation, -degrading everything else, even death? - -Will you answer that there is an eternal and universal sense of the -fitness of things with which every soul may be lightened that cometh -into the world? Shall I not reply to you that this is a lie against -life—that life is sacrificed every day to this lie? Shall I not say to -you that vibrant life must not allow itself to be sacrificed to such -lies—that vibrant life must create anew continually a sense of the -fitness of things for itself and for its every new expression—that it -must do this with authority, shaking itself bravely free from the clutch -of the dead hand, whether as to traditions, standards, customs, morals, -ideals or love even? Shall I not say to you that Life must assert its -right to Live? Shall we not organize life on such basis? - - - REVIEWING “THE LITTLE REVIEW” - -_Virginia York in “The Richmond Evening Journal”_: - -As we said a couple of months ago, THE LITTLE REVIEW, published in windy -Chicago, is claimed by its editors and readers to be the very, very last -word in prose and poetry. Also, it is the organ, the mouth organ, -perhaps, of that unsustained tune known as “vers libre.” In a criticism -of some of the Review’s lurid, foolish contents we poked a good deal of -fun at the publication in general and one piece of loose, or free, verse -in particular. This gem, entitled, “Cafe Sketches,” by Arthur Davison -Ficke, said, in part: - - Presently persons will come out - And shake legs. - I do not want legs shaken. - I want immortal souls shaken unreasonably. - I want to see dawn spilled across the blackness - Like a scrambled egg on a skillet; - I want miracles, wonders. - Tidings out of deeps I do not know, ... - But I have a horrible suspicion - That neither you - Nor your esteemed consort - Nor I myself - Can ever provide these simple things - For which I am so patiently waiting - Base people. - How I dislike you! - -As we said a couple of months ago, “Maybe you think this is funny, but -certainly it is not intended to be. Seriousness, thick, black, dense -seriousness is the keynote of THE LITTLE REVIEW.” However, the current -issue of said magazine carries our editorial remarks in full, and with -our hand on our heart we make a deep courtesy for the honor conferred -upon us. Though we distinctly deplore the fact that absolutely no -comment is made upon our criticism of THE LITTLE REVIEW and Mr. Ficke’s -remarkable “pome.” It is as if we were taken by the editorial legs and -shaken. And we do not want legs shaken. We are a lady. We would far -rather have our immortal editorial soul shaken unreasonably and spilled -across the literary blackness and blankness “like a scrambled egg on the -skillet.” Yet, we have a horrible idea “that neither you,” nor our -esteemed contemporary, “nor I myself,” know what it is all about; but we -do wish that Margaret Anderson and the other editors of “Le Revue -Petite” had made a few caustic remarks on our feeble attempts to be -funny. “Base people! How I dislike you!” - -But to show that we can be generous and heap coals of fire upon the -heads of our enemies, we propose to reproduce two short, sweet poems -from this month’s (beg pardon, the January-February issue, lately out, -“on account of having no funds during January,” as the Review editors -admit) issue of THE LITTLE REVIEW. The first selection on our program, -ladies and gentlemen, is by Harriet Dean and is called “The Pillar,” -though much more effectively it might have been headed “The Pillow” or -“The Hitching-Post.” Here goes: - - When your house grows too close for you, - When the ceilings lower themselves, crushing you, - There on the porch I shall wait, - Outside your house. - You shall lean against my straightness, - And let night surge over you. - -Now if it were only a nice slim lamp-post of a man giving such an -invitation we should pray that the ceilings would descend, and should -hasten to the porch—strangely enough on the outside of the house—and we -should love to lean, and lean, and lean, surge what may. - -The second, an “Asperity,” by Mitchell Dawson, is labeled “Teresa,” and -madly singeth as follows: - - “Do you remember Antonio— - Swift-winged, green in the sun? - Into the snap-dragon throat of desire - Flew Antonio. - Snap!... - The skeleton of Antonio has made - A good husband, a good provider.” - -La, la, la! At first we thought “Antonio” was a green dragon fly, but, -finally, by exercising a bit of common sense, we know that Tony is a -locust and left his “skeleton,” or “shell,” behind; and that Mrs. Tony -must have subsisted on the “leavings.” - -Oh, this nut sundae, chocolate fudge, marshmallow whip vers libre -poetry! Isn’t it just too lovely? Snap! “Into the snap-dragon throat of -desire, Flew Antonio.” Honestly now, Tony, don’t you wish the lady had -kept her mouth shut? - -We should like to comment upon these remarks, but surely they are too -good to spoil. - -_A Boy, Chicago_: - -I am a boy sixteen years old, and one could not expect me to know much -about poetry—especially free verse. But I have heard of your magazine as -a magazine that was ready to print what all kinds of people thought. So -I have written a little verse—it is not a poem—telling you something -about what is going on inside my mind, for these matters trouble every -boy’s mind, although you may think that we are light-minded at my age. - - - BLINDNESS - - I suppose I must be blind. - People say continually that the world is a wicked place; - I hear them talking about it all the time. - They say our city streets reek - With sin and sorrow - And all manner of misery and filth, - And yet I do not see any of it. - I go up and down these streets every day - And I see that they are ugly and that many people - Are deformed and sick and hungry; - But I close my eyes to it. - I suppose somebody will call me cowardly, but what shall I do? - I have no money to give the poor, and perhaps - That is not getting at their real trouble anyway. - I cannot heal the sick and deformed. - I cannot make the streets cleaner. - So I just think of other things. - Of my books at home, or the tennis courts in the park, - Or my pretty sister or anything. - There is nothing wrong in my own world. - I am happy. I like my school well enough. - I have my boy friends, and they are healthy athletic boys. - All the girls I know are good girls, - With charming and high minds. - And yet it is true that many boys lie and steal, - And girls run away and are dragged into lives of shame. - Why do I not see it? Why do I not do anything? - Why am I so helpless, if I have any duty to others? - - - FROM “THE INTERSTATE MEDICAL JOURNAL” - -A case in point showing how little has been achieved by our medical men -who have gone among the people, torch in hand, to lead them to the -Promised Land of happiness and content and physical and mental health -has been well illustrated in a poem, recently published in THE LITTLE -REVIEW (Chicago), wherein the authoress, Mary Aldis, unwittingly indicts -the whole medical profession for still allowing the sale of a patent -medicine to reduce obesity. The strange title of the poem in homely and -unadorned “free verse” is “Ellie: The Tragic Tale of An Obese Girl.” - -Mrs. Aldis—thus runs the poem—had a manicurist who was “a great big -lummox of a girl—a continent,” with “silly bulging cheeks and puffy -forehead,” and who one day said to the poetess, weeping and distraught: -“I’m so fat, so awful, awful fat! The boys won’t look at me.” She asked -Mrs. Aldis for help and Mrs. Aldis suggested, “A doctor’s vague advice -to bant and exercise,” and “Ellie and her woes passed from my mind. -Until, as summer dawned again, I heard that she was dead.” Mrs. Aldis -went to the funeral and saw Ellie lying in her coffin and was told by -Ellie’s mother, “She must a made it [the dress] by herself. It’s queer -it fitted perfectly, An’ her all thin like that.” Later in the evening -Mrs. Aldis received the following confidences from Ellie’s mother: -“’Twas the stuff she took that did it, I never knew till after she was -dead. The bottles in the woodshed, hundreds of ’em, All labelled -‘Caldwell’s Great Obesity Cure Warranted Safe and Rapid.’” - -To sermonize here, we have Mrs. Aldis, who we know to be a highly -intelligent woman and one not only interested in the uplift of the drama -but also in the uplift of the common (?) people, merely saying to a -girl, who is wretchedly unhappy about her elephantine size: All that I -can give you is a doctor’s vague advice to bant and exercise. She might -have given her Vance Thompson’s epoch-making book “Eat and Grow Thin,” -or read chapters from it to the unhappy girl, thereby convincing her -that starvation is unnecessary and also a patent medicine. But with a -coldness that is most reprehensive, she gave “a doctor’s vague advice to -bant and exercise,” and evidently Ellie would none of this. She might -also have consulted the hundred and one doctors in Chicago or elsewhere -who specialize in the reduction of fat, and who could have given her for -“the continent” a diet chart or perhaps a pill to effect the desired -change. But she did not think this necessary; she did not feel it her -duty. But if we have only adverse criticism for Mrs. Aldis’ uncharitable -act, what direful words of commination should we not visit on the doctor -who gave the “vague advice.” In an age when the cult of slimness is -uppermost in everybody’s mind, is it possible that the doctor consulted -by Mrs. Aldis was so untrue to his mission as a public benefactor that -he gave only “vague advice,” or is Mrs. Aldis maligning the whole -medical profession and trying to show that by his “vague advice” the -doctor was really responsible for Ellie’s death by driving her into -taking “the bottles in the woodshed, hundreds of ’em. All labelled -‘Caldwell’s Great Obesity Cure Warranted Safe and Rapid.’”? - -The lesson contained in the poetic lines of Mrs. Aldis’ little tragedy -is a bitter one for all those medical men who have made strenuous -efforts to let the public share their deep and vast knowledge without so -much as asking for the slightest compensation. It shows beyond a doubt -that not only are the Ellies of this world unwilling to imbibe science -in a popular form, but also the Aldises of a much higher intelligence. -It shows that the lure of patent medicine is a very strong one and that -a doctor’s “vague advice” cannot offset it. Strange, indeed, that a -doctor’s “vague advice” should be so inconsequential opposite so -patently fraudulent a preparation as “Caldwell’s Great Obesity Cure,” -but stranger still is what we are about to record—namely, the failure of -our medical propagandists to combat in an intelligent way that most -simple of all our metabolic disturbances—obesity! - - - - - A Vers Libre Prize Contest - - -Through the generosity of a friend, THE LITTLE REVIEW is enabled to -offer an unusual prize for poetry—possibly the first prize extended to -free verse. The giver is “interested in all experiments, and has -followed the poetry published in THE LITTLE REVIEW with keen -appreciation and a growing admiration for the poetic form known as _vers -libre_.” - -The conditions are as follows: - -Contributions must be received by August 15th. - -They must not be longer than twenty-five lines. - -They must be sent anonymously with stamps for return. - -The name and address of the author must be fixed to the manuscript in a -sealed envelope. - -It should be borne in mind that free verse is wanted—verse having beauty -of rhythm, not merely prose separated into lines. - -There will be three judges, the appointing of whom has been left to the -editor of THE LITTLE REVIEW. (Their names will be given in the next -issue, as we are hurrying this announcement to press without having had -time to consult anyone.) - -There will be two prizes of $25 each. They are offered not as a first -and second prize, but for “the two best short poems in free verse form.” - -As there will probably be a large number of poems to read, we suggest -that contributors adhere closely to the conditions of the contest. - - - - - Margaret Sanger - - - Will speak at the Chicago Little Theatre - - SUNDAY, APRIL 30, at 8:15 - - - “The Child’s Right - Not to be Born” - - - Margaret Sanger - - - “Birth Control” - - - West Side Auditorium - - TUESDAY, APRIL 25, at 8:15 - - MAURICE BROWN, CHAIRMAN - AUSPICES BIRTH CONTROL LEAGUE - - Taylor and Racine Avenue Admission 25 cents - - - - - THE EGOIST - - - An Individualist Review - - In the APRIL NUMBER of THE EGOIST our new Serial Story: - “_TARR_,” by MR. WYNDHAM LEWIS - opens with a long installment. - - In the MAY NUMBER MISS DORA MARSDEN will resume her - Editorial Articles, - MR. EZRA POUND will start a series of translations of the - “_DIALOGUES of FONTENELLE_,” - and the first of a Series of - _LETTERS of a 20th CENTURY ENGLISHWOMAN_ - will also appear. These Letters bear particularly upon the - interests - and education of modern women. - - MADAME CIOLKOWSKA will continue the “_PARIS CHRONICLE_” - and her new series of articles on “_THE FRENCH - WORD IN MODERN PROSE_.” - - Further prose contributors will include: H. S. WEAVER, RICHARD - ALDINGTON (also poetry), A. W. G. RANDALL (studies in modern - German poetry), JOHN COURNOS, F. S. FLINT, - LEIGH HENRY (studies in contemporary - music), M. MONTAGU-NATHAN, - HUNTLY CARTER, MARGARET - STORM - JAMESON - and others. - - _THE EGOIST_ will also continue to publish regularly the work - of _Young - English and American Poets_, and poems (in French) - by _Modern French Poets_. - - PUBLISHED MONTHLY - - Price—Fifteen cents a number - Yearly subscription, One Dollar Sixty Cents - - OAKLEY HOUSE, BLOOMSBURY STREET, LONDON, W. C. - - - - - PIANO TRIUMPHANT - - The artistic outgrowth of forty-five years of constant - improvement—a piano conceived to better all that has proven best - in others. - - - GEO. P. BENT GRAND - - Could you but compare it with all others, artistically it must be - your choice. Each day proves this more true. - - Geo. P. Bent Grand, Style “A”—a small Grand, built for the - home—your home. - - - GEO. P. BENT COMPANY - - Manufacturers of Artistic Pianos - Retailers of Victrolas - 214 South Wabash Avenue, Chicago - - - BUY YOUR BOOKS HERE - - If you wish to assist The Little Review without cost to yourself - you may order books—any book—from the Gotham Book Society and The - Little Review will be benefitted by the sales. By this method The - Little Review hopes to help solve a sometimes perplexing business - problem—whether the book you want is listed here or not the - Gotham will supply your needs. Price the same, or in many - instances much less, than were you to order direct from the - publisher. All books are exactly as advertised. Send P. O. Money - Order, check, draft or postage stamps. Order direct from the - Gotham Book Society, 142 W. 23rd St., N. Y., Dept. K. Don’t fail - to mention Department K. Here are some suggestions of the books - the Gotham Book Society is selling at publishers’ prices. All - prices cover postage charges. - - POETRY AND DRAMA - - SEVEN SHORT PLAYS. 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K, 142 West 23rd St., New York - “You Can Get Any Book on Any Subject” - - - - - 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]: - ... Fine, or Superfine. ... - ... Fine, or superfine. ... - - [p. 20]: - ... of Eugene Araam. Power’s face and figure were more majestic - on the ... - ... of Eugene Aram. Power’s face and figure were more majestic - on the ... - - [p. 22]: - ... hotel and restaurant maids; scrub-women; actors; - vaudevillains; cabaret ... - ... hotel and restaurant maids; scrub-women; actors; - vaudevillians; cabaret ... - - [p. 25]: - ... be Helen Hoyt and Zöe Aikens. The third will be announced ... - ... be Helen Hoyt and Zoë Akins. The third will be announced ... - - [p. 30]: - ... the work of Baskt, Urban, Jones, Sime, and Rothenstein. ... - ... the work of Bakst, Urban, Jones, Sime, and Rothenstein. ... - - [p. 31]: - ... who come to digest their dinner.—Elenora ... - ... who come to digest their dinner.—Eleonora ... - - [p. 36]: - ... The man can paint—technic seems to be only a superstitian - now but it once had a ... - ... The man can paint—technic seems to be only a superstition - now but it once had a ... - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE REVIEW, APRIL 1916 -(VOL. 3, NO. 2) *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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