Chapter II: Part 2

The book before me makes me think that Gorky has come to recognize his fallacy in attempting to treat subjects alien to his inherent capacity. At any rate in this case he is free from pretentiousness. His childhood memories are related simply, realistically, sans philosophizing, sans allegorizing. It is left for the reader to deduce the “moral” from the sordid panorama that is revealed before him, that malodorous dunghill swarming with human beings, whose crawling and writhing is called life. The book should have been much shorter; the super-abundance of details makes it Dreiserian or Bennetian.

And here I should like to touch upon a sore which reviewers customarily do not discuss, for fear of _mauvais ton_. Why are the English translations so careless and comical? The book in question is full of such glaring errors, such nonsensical misunderstandings, such atrocious ignorance, that it has made me pull my hair in despair of solving the dilemma whether I should laugh at the comicalness or whether I should rage at the impertinence. I am quite sure that the translator (his name is not revealed) knows as much Russian as Percy Pinkerton, the crucifier of Artzibashev; he mutilated Gorky from a German translation, I suspect. The book has another jolly feature—illustrations. They are reproductions from popular Russian paintings, with inscriptions that are supposed to illustrate the text. The naive forgery is too crude and unskilful to mislead even the unsuspecting reader. Will the publishers ever acquire respect for the printed word?

Instruction

_The Greatest of Literary Problems, by James Phinney Baxter.
Boston: Houghton Mifflin._

Have you the sense of humor to guess which is the Problem? Shakespeare or Bacon! About seven hundred gigantic pages on this vital question, with illustrations and data. Are you curious to know who wins? I shall not tell. Why should the reader be spared the reviewer’s agony in wading through the bewildering labyrinth of speculations and arguments till he reaches ... the same point that he started from. Bon voyage!

Instruction Plus

_Tales from Old Japanese Dramas, by Asataro Miyamori. New York:
G. P. Putnam’s Sons._

_Some Musicians of Former Days, by Romain Rolland. New York:
Henry Holland Company._

These books, like the preceding one, are intended to be instructive; they attain their purpose, however, thanks to gracefulness of style and fascination of subject. Mr. Miyamori has condensed the plots of the most famous _joruri_—the epical dramas of the Yeddo period, which are to this day chanted in Japanese theatres. It is an exotic atmosphere of oriental fairyland, tapestries of childlike love and naive passion, of smiling bloody tragedies and blissful harakiris. When lovers are prevented from being married they do not employ the cumbersome process of elopment, but transport themselves into the other world by committing _shinju_ or double suicide. The author tells us that Metizahormach shinju dramas have had such powerful influence on the audiences that there have been numerous instances of lovers performing that delicious suicide after leaving the theatre. I fear that for the occidental reader the dramas will not prove as convincing—alas.

After _Musicians of To-Day_ the last book of Rolland has little appeal. Journalistic notes, interesting information, brilliant suggestions—and we look in vain for the profound spirit of the old Romain.

Hospitable Mr. Braithwaite

_Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1915, by William Stanley
Braithwaite. New York: Gomme and Marshall._

Mr. Braithwaite has chosen the guests for his house party with kindly catholicity. Amy Lowell, John Gould Fletcher, and H. D. sit uncomfortably in his New England parlor eyeing one another furtively. Clement Wood clowns in a corner. Vachel Lindsay before the mantel-piece declaims to James Oppenheim and Louis Untermeyer, who listen with an air of importance. Edgar Lee Masters sits on the _corpus juris_ and meditates upon the beauties of silence. Sara Teasedale dances in the hallway. Harriet Monroe reclines on a porch chair, listening to the rain. A crowd in the library recreate themselves by reading from a set of British Poets. Percy MacKaye gloomily reads the war news to a group in the dining-room, while little Arvia, his daughter, lisps happily to herself. And alone in the kitchen is Robert Frost roasting chestnuts.

Who will say that Mr. Braithwaite could have better performed the duties of host? Did he omit any of the “older established names”? And did he not make a special Cook’s tour to far off islands (not shown in the atlas of the _Boston Transcript_ office) for the purpose of bringing home with him certain “new discoveries”?

Mr. Braithwaite pats his guests admiringly upon the back and regrets that there are other excellent poets for whom he has no accommodations. Ezra Pound, Richard Aldington, T. S. Eliot, D. H. Lawrence, Maxwell Bodenheim, perhaps he will invite you next time. Is it not a pleasant anticipation?

Empty Souls

_The Later Life, by Louis Couperus. New York: Dodd, Mead and
Company._

This is the second part of the tetralogy of “Small Souls” which began to appear in English last year. The slowly-developing epic is pregnant with promises, but, oh how slowly the skein unrolls. We are still in the midst of Dutch bourgeoisie, dull, stony-faced, petty, filthy; again the incessant rain, ever-cloudy skies, bicycle rides, large dinner-parties at Mama’s. Small souls. Last year I asked the question whether in depicting Dutch life Couperus could not find a single big soul, one interesting individual. This second book gives us pale glimmers of potentialities, very pale indeed. The big man is big only relatively; he has been in America, worked in factories, and is now ... lecturing on peace.

The book introduces a feature that may interest the sexologist: frequent passionate love among near kinsmen. Two sisters are in love with their brothers. A romance between uncle and niece. The heroes and heroines are awakened to love for the most part at the dangerous age of forty. I recall that Przybyszewski presents in two of his works love between brother and sister. Shall we say that ideal sex-relationship requires the closest kinship of body and spirit? In the Pole’s lovers the force driving them together is the harmonious coincidence of two morbidly developed intellects with a common craving for beauty and fullness. In Couperus we face mutual yearning of small, pale, empty souls. But I am not interested in sex-problems, not yet.

K.

Two Points of View

_Violette of Pere Lachaise, by Anna Strunsky Walling. New York:
Frederic A. Stokes._

A gigantic background—the eternal graves and trees and monuments of the old Paris cemetery. The rest is fudge. A mouse born out of the bowels of a mountain. Nauseating feminine sentimentalism. Boring talk, talk, talk.

K.

The reviewer above is absolutely mistaken about Mrs. Walling’s book, I believe. It is the story of one of those human beings—rare people—who live inner lives of extraordinary intensity. It is radiantly absorbing, to me.

M. C. A.

The Reader Critic

_The Editor_:

_We have had cancellations, congratulations, and a lot of indignant letters about Ben Hecht’s “Dregs.” I print two of them below. As it happens, these stories are among the best things_ THE LITTLE REVIEW _has printed. With the exception of some of the poetry and two stories of Sherwood Anderson’s, they may be listed as the only “literature” we have published. Some one has compared them to Gorky. But this is not a very accurate judgment. As a reviewer pointed out in the November issue, Gorky could feel his stories, could imagine them deeply, but he could never quite tell them. The supreme virtue of Ben Hecht’s “Dregs” is that he could tell them. That is the art. Of course I have nothing to say to those people who deplore Mr. Hecht’s subject matter and urge me to use some moral judgment in selecting things for_ THE LITTLE REVIEW. _There is no such thing as moral judgment in literature. There should be no such thing in life, but unfortunately_—

_A Sorrowful Friend_:

THE LITTLE REVIEW: _Literature, Drama, Music, Art_. Which of these four shrines did you intend to desecrate in offering Ben Hecht’s “Dregs”? Or have you added an “unwritten” class to your list, comprehensive enough to include such bold portrayals of viciousness and filth, of licentiousness and lust, as these three degenerate—manifestations!

LITTLE REVIEW—how _could_ you do it? You who have hitherto held so bravely to the tenets of beauty and truth in thought and expression, held to them courageously through storms of adverse criticism, consent to print descriptions of the bestial abnormalities of the scum of mankind! If _you_, who profess to look to a higher, better realization of life, consent to crawl in the gutter with the vermin, what can we expect of the lesser publications?

You have polluted an edition of your magazine; it is true that flames will destroy the manuscript, but what of the hideous memory that remains? Take heed—LITTLE REVIEW; remember that cleanliness is akin to godliness and—look to your soul!

_Florence Kiper Frank, Chicago_:

May I call your attention to the fact that Mr. Edward J. O’Brien, in his annual review of the year’s fiction, not only lists all the stories printed in THE LITTLE REVIEW during 1915 among those possessing “distinction,” but double-asterisks (verb) the three sketches of Ben Hecht’s published under the title “Dregs.” This in the chaste and genealogical Boston Evening Transcript! And, following to the best of my ability Mr. O’Brien’s rather vague reference to and nebulous listings of the stories to be published in his anthology, _The Best Stories of 1915 and Year Book of American Fiction_, I can but come to the startled conclusion that Ben Hecht’s three stories are all to be reprinted in the estimable collection. Good for Ben Hecht, THE LITTLE REVIEW, and Mr. O’Brien’s catholicity of judgment! Some of us there are who like to have our opinions backed and bolstered by authority. And what more august authority than the printed word of Boston. Some of us—but of course not your insurgents. Perhaps Mr. Hecht will resent congratulations. I tender them, nevertheless—with apologies. Good stuff, Ben Hecht! Do us some—more of them.

_Sada Cowan, New York_:

I’m truly grateful to your reviewer who found my play, _The State Forbids_, “negative as literature.” If he had found it bad architecture or mediocre sculpture I should have been less pleased.

Play making, to my mind, is not a form of literature (even though its medium chances to be words) but it is an art of spacing ... focusing ... building. Structure upon structure! Foundation. Ornament. Design. An art as distinct from other forms of word utility as color medium is from plastic art. Drama is related to literature only in so far as all arts are inter-related. No more than this. By drama I mean, of course, plays intended (at least in the writer’s mind) for production. These alone are plays. For one reason or another they may never reach the boards, but they must have lived in the writer’s fantasy as things produced. _Desk drawer dramas_ are not plays.

I believe that the hope of the modern drama lies in the artist who can learn to look upon himself as a builder ... a _maker_ and not a writer of plays.

And so again I thank your critic whose charity has made me feel that I am on the road which leads to “Somewhere.” Even though at the end of my journey I may not yet have reached the first mile stone.

_Virginia York, Washington, D. C._:

It is published in windy Chicago, THE LITTLE REVIEW. Claimed by management, editors and its readers to be the very, very last, last word in prose and poetry; it is sold at fifteen cents a copy. Normal-minded, healthy folk will find it cheap at that price, because normal-minded, healthy folk will find in it fifteen laughs for fifteen cents, despite the fact that it is entirely a serious publication.

Years ago an editor sent me to the government hospital for the insane just outside Washington, to interview a certain man. As I passed into the building an elderly gentleman of profoundly respectful manner presented me with a neatly-bound pamphlet which he said he had written, edited and illustrated entirely by himself. Examining it later, the cover-page proved to be a mass of meaningless, whirling lines labeled in carefully printed letters, “The Croucher At The Door.” The reading matter was wholly unintelligible.

A poet-friend has given me the October number of THE LITTLE REVIEW. The vers libre poetry in the small magazine might easily be called “The Croucher At The Door” for all the sense to be made of it. In fear and trembling that my own unworthy brain might finally have addled, relatives and friends were invited to peruse the contents of the volume. I thank heaven they could make nothing of it.

One contribution entitled _Cafe Sketches_, by Arthur Davison Ficke, is herewith reprinted for the benefit of readers of this page who are denied access, and accompanying the laugh, to THE LITTLE REVIEW. Mr. Ficke, after telling in the first verse that he is in a cafe, surrounded by a “cortege of seven waiters,” mourning for a “boundlessly curious lady,” recites in mournful meanderings:

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 the 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!

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. This is vers libre with a vengeance. “Persons will come out and shake legs. I do not want legs shaken.” Here we have the spirit of the dance! It is quite evident Mr. Ficke does not wish joy to be unconfined.

There have been many descriptions of dawn, probably none so unique as “the dawn spilled across the blackness like a scrambled egg on the skillet.” The second verse is short and to the point, but it is much to be thankful for both in point of length and the statement that we are abhorred.

In order to restore our thoughts to something sane, to take away from us the taste of such gibberish, consider for a moment the following eight lines by Harriet Howe, recently published in THE LITERARY DIGEST. Comparison between the two authors is utterly impossible, totally unnecessary:

SUNSET AFTER RAIN

The cradle of the valley
Is filled with floating mist,
The summits of the mountains
Are veiled in amethyst.

The trees spread grateful branches
Above a smiling sod,
For thirsting slaked, for hunger fed,
All things are praising God.

_Huntly Carter, London_:

The letter by C. Smith of Chicago, in the October issue of THE LITTLE REVIEW, is so phenomenally stupid and so intellectually dishonest that it is almost beneath notice. If I consent to notice it, I do so in order to warn Smithsonian understudies that they will be severely dealt with if they attempt to repeat Smith’s brazen offence of writing to a significant journal and coolly suggesting that a single and relatively unimportant wrong attribution is to be regarded as a fair and honest sample of the whole subject matter of an article occupying several pages and mainly devoted to a metaphysical explanation of the origin and nature of poetry. Furthermore, suggesting that I am applying to a poet (Browning) a rigid test of poetry, seeking to prove his words poetically good or bad by my poetical experience, when as a matter of fact I am offering certain words, some of which are wrongly attributed to Browning, as indisputable evidence that in venting the emotions versifiers find descriptive figures efficacious.

No doubt some of the words flaunted by Smith are wrongly attributed to Browning. They are so wrongly attributed that anyone can see they are wrongly attributed. And any “sane, intelligent and decently responsible man” (to use Smith’s yellow press tautology) would have given me an opportunity of saying they are wrongly attributed before venturing to put on silly airs of hypercriticism. Then he would have learnt that the first and third line of the quotation belong oddly enough, to another piece of poetry, and have got mixed up with Browning’s stuff in some unaccountable way. I have not the least idea how the mix took place. All I know is that my article was finished off in great haste to catch the mail. It was sent in handscript and not typescript. And there was no time to send me a proof; otherwise the quotation would certainly have been corrected, and the many errors which now appear in my article would have disappeared. I feel I am justified in saying it was not my intention to send the words which have crept into print by the discovery that I have actually written down Browning’s very words. Here is Browning:

And the sun looked over the mountain’s rim:
And straight was a path of gold for him,
And the need of a world of men for me.

The first line of the verse is missing. The three lines however serve the purpose of my comparison. I had also set down these lines by Browning:

One lyric woman in her crocus vest,
Woven of sea-wools.

I intended to include this with my quotations. For here in my view is a figure as original and precisely felicitous as anything the Imagists have given us.

That this dragging in of some wrongly attributed words—so obviously wrong as to deceive no one—for the sole purpose of discrediting an important article is dishonest, is clear from the fact that Smith does not drag in any other quotation from the many given, nor produce any other evidence whatsoever in support of his contention that my article is inept and careless throughout. In fact he has nothing more damaging to offer than his own fatuous statement that he happens “to consider my article an ill-digested congeries of vague views”; which, when one comes to examine it is found to contain a baseless assertion and a clear admission that my article is above and beyond Smith’s head.

As to the silliness of Smith’s letter, this may be judged from the following: Smith begins with the generalization that magazines die “whose pages are as a rule careless, inconsidered and inept” (note the repetition and consequent lack of thoroughness). The publications of the capitalist press answer this description. The news sheets, for instance, are rotten with carelessness, inconsideredness and ineptness. They would be rottener if they could. Yet they do not die. On the contrary they sell by the million. If so, then THE LITTLE REVIEW should sell by the million. But Smith says it will die. And Smith is a careful, serviceable, and accurate man.

By way of comparison Smith relieves himself of this matchless composition. “Your magazine will die,—as a steam engine would grow useless in which no direction towards any cylinder was given to the indubitable forces generated in the boiler.” What is the precise meaning of this bombastic twaddle? In homely words, it means that a steam engine is (not “would grow”) useless when the steam power developed in its boiler is not utilised in any cylinder. Anyone who examines this analogy will agree with me that Smith is a careful, serviceable, and accurate man.

From the general Smith comes to the particular and quotes what he is pleased to call an example of my “ineptitude and carelessness” as an example of the general “ineptitude and carelessness” of THE LITTLE REVIEW. Without knowing anything as to the circumstances under which the wrongly attributed words found their way into print, without stopping to inquire to what extent I contributed to the mistake, and upon no other evidence whatsoever than the said wrongly attributed words, he proceeds to saddle me with the astounding intention “to obliterate all sense of accuracy, all love of clear and rational communication, all fidelity to honest statement, and all interest in truth” (which makes four ways of uttering the same inverifiable statement).

Finally Smith challenges the editor of THE LITTLE REVIEW to print his ghastly ineptitude. She has taken the short way and done so. It serves Smith right.

_M. Silverman, Chicago_:

Your last issue is a failure—with two exceptions, Miss Goldman’s article on “Preparedness” and Mr. Hecht’s letter. Both of them are human, understandable, and sincere. They shout—but do not roar. All the others are ostentatious, plebeian, and lack artistic restraint. They are not beautiful. They _holler_ and produce a sense of heaviness and overexertion. Sympathy and politeness are apparently the cardinal virtues of the highly esteemed editor. Hence this “democratic” hash.

To be more specific: Your editorial, “Toward Revolution,” is the acme of nonsense. I tried to take you seriously but I couldn’t. It is pamphletory, and should have no place in THE LITTLE REVIEW.

“The Ecstasy of Pain” is a stage hurricane, and, to paraphrase Mr. Goldbeck, it is like Chicago: vast, but not impressive. It lacks artistic touch and symmetrical wholeness. The fourth paragraph is excellent. The rest was unnecessary. The fragmentary mind of Mr. Kaun is phosphorescent, produces tiny sparks which are soon lost in the darkness. Higher mathematics is the best remedy for Mr. Kaun’s mind.

“The Spring Recital” is a bore. The author of _The “Genius”_ seems to have a mania for torturing the innocent public. I read “The Spring Recital” twice, yes twice; and when I got through with it I felt extremely uncomfortable. I don’t understand it and it doesn’t mean anything to me. I challenge anyone to explain to me: What does this piece of “dramatic” “quatch” mean?

All the other articles—well, they are harmless.

_Woods Dargan, Darlington, S. C._:

I enclose a check for $1.50, and ask that you enter my name for one year’s subscription—that is, if you will let one of the rabble creep in. Frankly, I know no more about art (with a capital A or otherwise) than a rabbit. I don’t even know what an “Imagist” is! And for the life of me I cannot understand why the temperamental, fussy gentleman named Alexander S. Kaun should not use a singular verb with a singular noun, just like ordinary people. But when he says, as he does in the first line of the fourth paragraph of his article, “the dearer a person or a thing _are_ to me, etc.,” I know there must be intellectual purpose in it, some esoteric effect that gets to the cultured few but passes over my head; so I bow before the unknown beauty of it, thinking, “Odd, but no doubt it’s all right.”

Also, to my untutored mind, the frequent use of profanity in an everyday, conversational way in two or three of the articles is amusing, and makes me wonder. It reminds me of the days when I first took up the art, and used to feel a shudder of delight when I ripped out a good, mouth-filling, “Damn it all to hell!” Perhaps it has lost its charm for me as a literary ornament because I swear so much myself, just as a matter of habit without deriving the oldtime pleasure from it.

Other places where these boys put it all over me are in music and Russians. It is one of my secret sorrows that I know I know nothing about music. I like it, but it never occurs to me to fade away and fill an early grave if I hear somebody’s nocturne murdered—that is, if I know it is being murdered, which is highly unlikely. And as to the Russians, old Dostoevsky is my limit so far, but I’m game, and am going in for all the others,—the more gloomy and morbid the better.

Then, there’s this Mr. Theodore Dreiser. As we say in this neck of the woods, in our uncouth manner, “He must be a bear-cat.” (By the way, I’d give a lot to know what “demiurge” means in the sense in which it is applied to him. Mr. Masters used it in _The New York Times_ some weeks ago, and now I find it again in Mr. Powys’ appreciation. I don’t know what they mean.) Well, I’ve had his book, _The “Genius,”_ for sometime, and mean to read it all as soon as I can get round to it. Perhaps I’ll know what “demiurge” means then—but I doubt it.

For all that I have said I would not have you think that I am wholly lacking in soul. I have some things in common with these fellows, for I have no religion or morals, and I enjoy getting drunk, riotously, gloriously drunk, once or twice a year.

And now, after telling you at more length than any decent person should what has puzzled me in your Review, permit me to say what I like. The first part of your own contribution, “Life Itself,” strikes me as the real thing. I understand all that, being a common person. For the last part, as I’ve said, I know nothing of art, and life doesn’t mean those things to me, naturally. But I like it. I can, after a fashion, see how it _might_ mean them. The review of Dreiser by Mr. Powys that I have mentioned already is good writing and good sense. How true it is, I am not yet in a position to guess. Then, Mr. Edgar Masters always writes vividly, deeply. I am glad to add “So We Grew Together” to what I know of his stuff. It is almost as good a portrait and short story as some of the best of the Anthology.

That fellow Ben Hecht can write. Personally, I have a sort of leaning toward the dregs, but, as a general thing, I don’t know that there’s much use in writing about them just so. But he’s certainly good. He can write. I never heard of him before, but I shall look out for him in future.

For the sake of what I find good I’m willing to put up with what I fail to grasp, and so I look forward to much pleasure and instruction from THE LITTLE REVIEW. Luck to it. As long as you, Miss Lowell, Mr. Masters, and Mr. Hecht contribute, so long will it be cheap at any price. And, who knows? I may yet learn from my friend Mr. Kaun the hidden beauties of a singular subject with a plural verb.

_The January-February Issue_

On account of having no funds during January we have been forced
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SONGS OF LOVE AND REBELLION. Covington Hall’s best and finest
poems on Revolution, Love and Miscellaneous Visions. Send 56c.

RENAISSANCE. By Holger Drachman. A melodrama. Dealing with studio
life in Venice, 16th century. Translated by Lee M. Hollander.
Send 95c.

THE MADMAN DIVINE. By Jose Echegaray. Prose drama in four acts.
Translated by Elizabeth Howard West. Send 95c.

TO THE STARS. By Leonid Andreyieff. Four acts. A glimpse of young
Russia in the throes of the Revolution. Time: The Present.
Translated by Dr. A. Goudiss. Send 95c.

PHANTASMS. By Roberto Bracco. A drama in four acts, translated by
Dirce St. Cyr. Send 95c.

THE HIDDEN SPRING. By Roberto Bracco. A drama in four acts,
translated by Dirce St. Cyr. Send 95c.

THE DRAMA LEAGUE SERIES. A series of modern plays, published for
the Drama League of America. Attractively bound.

THE THIEF. By Henry Bernstein. (Just Out).

A FALSE SAINT. By Francois de Curel.

THE TRAIL OF THE TORCH. By Paul Hervieu.

MY LADY’S DRESS. By Edward Knoblauch.

A WOMAN’S WAY. By Thompson Buchanan.

THE APOSTLE. By Paul Hyacinthe Loyson.

Each of the above books 82c, postpaid.

DRAMATIC WORKS, VOLUME VI. By Gerhart Hauptmann. The sixth
volume, containing three of Hauptmann’s later plays. Send $1.60.

THE DAWN (Les Aubes). A symbolic war play, by Emile Verhaeren,
the poet of the Belgians. “The author approaches life through the
feelings and passions. His dramas express the vitality and
strenuousness of his people.” Send $1.10.

THE GREEK COMMONWEALTH. By Alfred A. Zimmern. Send $3.00.

EURIPIDES: “Hippolytus,” “Bacchae,” Aristophanes’ “Frogs.”
Translated by Gilbert Murray. Send $1.75.

THE TROJAN WOMEN. Translated by Gilbert Murray. Send 85c.

MEDEA. Translated by Gilbert Murray. Send 85c.

ELECTRA. Translated by Gilbert Murray. Send 85c.

ANCIENT GREEK LITERATURE. By Gilbert Murray. Send $2.10.

EURIPIDES AND HIS AGE. By Gilbert Murray. Send 75c.

GENERAL

VAGRANT MEMORIES. By William Winter. Illustrated. The famous
dramatic critic tells of his associations with the drama for two
generations. Send $3.25.

THE NEARING CASE. By Lightner Witmer. A complete account of the
dismissal of Professor Nearing from the University of
Pennsylvania, containing the indictment, the evidence, the
arguments, the summing up and all the important papers in the
case, with some indication of its importance to the question of
free speech. 60c postpaid.

THE ART OF THE MOVING PICTURE. By Vachel Lindsay. Send $1.60.

WRITING AND SELLING A PLAY. By Fanny Cannon. A practical book by
a woman who is herself an actress, a playwright, a professional
reader and critic of play manuscripts, and has also staged and
directed plays. Send $1.60.

GLIMPSES OF THE COSMOS. A Mental Autobiography. By Lester F.
Ward. Vol. IV. The fourth in the series of eight volumes which
will contain the collected essays of Dr. Ward. Send $2.65.

EVERYMAN’S ENCYCLOPEDIA is the cure for inefficiency. It is the
handiest and cheapest form of modern collected knowledge, and
should be in every classroom, every office, every home. Twelve
volumes in box. Cloth. Send $6.00.

Three Other Styles of Binding. Mail your order today.

NIETZSCHE. By Dr. Georg Brandes, the discoverer of Nietzsche.
Send $1.25.

WAR AND CULTURE. By John Cowper Powys. Send 70c.

SHATTUCK’S PARLIAMENTARY ANSWERS. By Harriette R. Shattuck.
Alphabetically arranged for all questions likely to arise in
Women’s organizations. 16mo. Cloth. 67c postpaid. Flexible
Leather Edition. Full Gilt Edges. Net $1.10 postpaid.

EAT AND GROW THIN. By Vance Thompson. A collection of the
hitherto unpublished Mahdah menus and recipes for which Americans
have been paying fifty-guinea fees to fashionable physicians in
order to escape the tragedy of growing fat. Cloth. Send $1.10.

FORTY THOUSAND QUOTATIONS. By Charles Noel Douglas. These 40,000
prose and poetical quotations are selected from standard authors
of ancient and modern times, are classified according to subject,
fill 2,000 pages, and are provided with a thumb index. $3.15,
postpaid.

THE CRY FOR JUSTICE. An anthology of the literature of social
protest, edited by Upton Sinclair. Introduction by Jack London.
“The work is world-literature, as well as the Gospel of a
universal humanism.” Contains the writings of philosophers,
poets, novelists, social reformers, selected from twenty-five
languages, covering a period of five thousand years. Inspiring to
every thinking man and woman; a handbook of reference to all
students of social conditions. 955 pages, including 32
illustrations. Cloth Binding, vellum cloth, price very low for so
large a book. Send $2.00. Three-quarter Leather Binding, a
handsome and durable library style, specially suitable for
presentation. Send $3.50.

MY CHILDHOOD. By Maxim Gorky. The autobiography of the famous
Russian novelist up to his seventeenth year. An astounding human
document and an explanation (perhaps unconscious) of the Russian
national character. Frontispiece portrait. 8vo. 308 pages. $2.00
net, postage 10 cents. (Ready Oct. 14).

AFFIRMATIONS. By Havelock Ellis. A discussion of some of the
fundamental questions of life and morality as expressed in, or
suggested by, literature. The subjects of the five studies are
Nietzsche, Zola, Huysmans, Casanova and St. Francis of Assisi.
Send $1.87.

LITERATURE

COMPLETE WORKS. Maurice Maeterlinck. The Essays, 10 vols., per
vol., net $1.75. The Plays, 8 vols., per vol., net $1.50. Poems,
1 vol., net $1.50. Volumes sold separately. In uniform style, 19
volumes. Limp green leather, flexible cover, thin paper, gilt
top, 12mo. Postage added.

INTERPRETATIONS OF LITERATURE. By Lafcadio Hearn. A remarkable
work. Lafcadio Hearn became as nearly Japanese as an Occidental
can become. English literature is interpreted from a new angle in
this book. Send $6.50.

BERNARD SHAW: A Critical Study. By P. P. Howe. Send $2.15.

MAURICE MAETERLINCK: A Critical Study. By Una Taylor. 8vo. Send
$2.15.

W. B. YEATS: A Critical Study. By Forest Reid. Send $2.15.

DEAD SOULS. Nikolai Gogol’s great humorous classic translated
from the Russian. Send $1.25.

ENJOYMENT OF POETRY. By Max Eastman. “His book is a masterpiece,”
says J. B. Kerfoot in Life. By mail, $1.35.

THE PATH OF GLORY. By Anatole France. Illustrated. 8vo. Cloth. An
English edition of a remarkable book that M. Anatole France has
written to be sold for the benefit of disabled soldiers. The
original French is printed alongside the English translation.
Send $1.35.

THE PILLAR OF FIRE: A Profane Baccalaureate. By Seymour Deming.
Takes up and treats with satire and with logical analysis such
questions as, What is a college education? What is a college man?
What is the aristocracy of intellect?—searching pitilessly into
and through the whole question of collegiate training for life.
Send $1.10.

IVORY APES AND PEACOCKS. By James Huneker. A collection of essays
in Mr. Huneker’s well-known brilliant style, of which some are
critical discussions upon the work and personality of Conrad,
Whitman, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, and the younger Russians, while
others deal with music, art, and social topics. The title is
borrowed from the manifest of Solomon’s ship trading with
Tarshish. Send $1.60.

INTERPRETATIONS OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. By Lafcadio Hearn. Two
volumes. Mr. Hearn, who was at once a scholar, a genius, and a
master of English style, interprets in this volume the literature
of which he was a student, its masterpieces, and its masters, for
the benefit, originally, of the race of his adoption. $6.50,
postpaid.

IDEALS AND REALITIES IN RUSSIAN LITERATURE. By Prince Kropotkin.
Send $1.60.

VISIONS AND REVISIONS. By John Cowper Powys. A Book of Literary
Devotions. Send $2.10.

SIX FRENCH POETS. By Amy Lowell. First English book to contain a
minute and careful study of Verhaeren, Albert Samain, Remy de
Gourmont, Henri de Régnier, Francis Jammes and Paul Fort. Send
$2.75.

LANDMARKS IN RUSSIAN LITERATURE. By Maurice Baring. Intimate
studies of Tolstoi, Turgenev, Gogol, Chekov, Dostoevsky. Send
$2.00.

FICTION

THE TURMOIL. By Booth Tarkington. A beautiful story of young love
and modern business. Send $1.45.

SET OF SIX. By Joseph Conrad. Short stories. Scribner. Send
$1.50.

AN ANARCHIST WOMAN. By H. Hapgood. This extraordinary novel
points out the nature, the value and also the tragic limitations
of the social rebel. Published at $1.25 net; our price, 60c.,
postage paid.

THE HARBOR. By Ernest Poole. A novel of remarkable power and
vision in which are depicted the great changes taking place in
American life, business and ideals. Send $1.60.

MAXIM GORKY. Twenty-six and One and other stories from the
Vagabond Series. Published at $1.25; our price 60c., postage
paid.

SANINE. By Artzibashef. The sensational Russian novel now
obtainable in English. Send $1.45.

A FAR COUNTRY. Winston Churchill’s new novel is another realistic
and faithful picture of contemporary American life, and more
daring than “The Inside of the Cup.” Send $1.60.

BOON—THE MIND OF THE RACE. Was it written by H. G. Wells? He now
admits it may have been. It contains an “ambiguous introduction”
by him. Anyhow it’s a rollicking set of stories, written to
delight you. Send $1.45.

NEVER TOLD TALES. Presents in the form of fiction, in language
which is simplicity itself, the disastrous results of sexual
ignorance. The book is epoch-making; it has reached the ninth
edition. It should be read by everyone, physician and layman,
especially those contemplating marriage. Cloth. Send $1.10.

PAN’S GARDEN. By Algernon Blackwood. Send $1.60.

THE CROCK OF GOLD. By James Stephens. Send $1.60.

THE INVISIBLE EVENT. By J. D. Beresford. Jacob Stahl, writer and
weakling, splendidly finds himself in the love of a superb woman.
Send $1.45. The Jacob Stahl trilogy: “The Early History of Jacob
Stahl,” “A Candidate for Truth,” “The Invisible Event.” Three
volumes, boxed. Send $2.75.

OSCAR WILDE’S WORKS. Ravenna edition. Red limp leather. Sold
separately. The books are: The Picture of Dorian Gray, Lord
Arthur Saville’s Crime, and the Portrait of Mr. W. H., The
Duchess of Padua, Poems (including “The Sphinx,” “The Ballad of
Reading Gaol,” and Uncollected Pieces), Lady Windermere’s Fan, A
Woman of No Importance, An Ideal Husband, The Importance of Being
Earnest, A House of Pomegranates, Intentions, De Profundis and
Prison Letters, Essays (“Historical Criticism,” “English
Renaissance,” “London Models,” “Poems in Prose”), Salome, La
Sainte Courtisane. Send $1.35 for each book.

THE RAT-PIT. By Patrick MacGill. A novel by the navvy-poet who
sprang suddenly into attention with his “Children of the Dead
End.” This story is mainly about a boarding house in Glasgow
called “The Rat-Pit,” and the very poor who are its frequenters.
Send $1.35.

THE AMETHYST RING. By Anatole France. Translated by B. Drillien.
$1.85 postpaid.

CRAINQUEBILLE. By Anatole France. Translated by Winifred Stevens.
The story of a costermonger who is turned from a dull-witted and
inoffensive creature by the hounding of the police and the too
rigorous measures of the law into a desperado. Send $1.85.

VIOLETTE OF PERE LACHAISE. By Anna Strunsky Walling. Records the
spiritual development of a gifted young woman who becomes an
actress and devotes herself to the social revolution. Send $1.10.

THE “GENIUS.” By Theodore Dreiser. Send $1.60.

JERUSALEM. By Selma Lagerlof. Translated by Velma Swanston. The
scene is a little Swedish village whose inhabitants are bound in
age-old custom and are asleep in their narrow provincial life.
The story tells of their awakening, of the tremendous social and
religious upheaval that takes place among them, and of the
heights of self-sacrifice to which they mount. Send $1.45.

BREAKING-POINT. By Michael Artzibashef. A comprehensive picture
of modern Russian life by the author of “Sanine.” Send $1.35.

RUSSIAN SILHOUETTES. By Anton Tchekoff. Translated by Marian
Fell. Stories which reveal the Russian mind, nature and
civilization. Send $1.47.

THE FREELANDS. By John Galsworthy. Gives a large and vivid
presentation of English life under the stress of modern social
conflict, centering upon a romance of boy-and-girl love—that
theme in which Galsworthy excels all his contemporaries. Send
$1.45.

FIDELITY. Susan Glaspell’s greatest novel. The author calls it
“The story of a woman’s love—of what that love impels her to
do—what it makes of her.” Send $1.45.

WOOD AND STONE. By John Cowper Powys. An Epoch Making Novel. Send
$1.60.

RED FLEECE. By Will Levington Comfort. A story of the Russian
revolutionists and the proletariat in general in the Great War,
and how they risk execution by preaching peace even in the
trenches. Exciting, understanding, and everlastingly true; for
Comfort himself is soldier and revolutionist as well as artist.
He is our American Artsibacheff; one of the very few American
masters of the “new fiction.” Send $1.35.

THE STAR ROVER. By Jack London. Frontispiece in colors by Jay
Hambidge. A man unjustly accused of murder is sentenced to
imprisonment and finally sent to execution, but proves the
supremacy of mind over matter by succeeding, after long practice,
in loosing his spirit from his body and sending it on long quests
through the universe, finally cheating the gallows in this way.
Send $1.60.

THE RESEARCH MAGNIFICENT. By H. G. Wells. Tells the story of the
life of one man, with its many complications with the lives of
others, both men and women of varied station, and his wanderings
over many parts of the globe in his search for the best and
noblest kind of life. $1.60, postpaid.

SEXOLOGY

Here is the great sex book of the day: Forel’s THE SEXUAL
QUESTION. A scientific, psychological, hygienic, legal and
sociological work for the cultured classes. By Europe’s foremost
nerve specialist. Chapter on “love and other irradiations of the
sexual appetite” a profound revelation of human emotions.
Degeneracy exposed. Birth control discussed. Should be in the
hands of all dealing with domestic relations. Medical edition
$5.50. Same book, cheaper binding, now $1.60.

Painful childbirth in this age of scientific progress is
unnecessary. THE TRUTH ABOUT TWILIGHT SLEEP, by Hanna Rion (Mrs.
Ver Beck), is a message to mothers by an American mother,
presenting with authority and deep human interest the impartial
and conclusive evidence of a personal investigation of the
Freiburg method of painless childbirth. Send $1.62.

FREUD’S THEORIES OF THE NEUROSES. By Dr. E. Hitschmann. A brief
and clear summary of Freud’s theories. Price, $2.

PLAIN FACTS ABOUT A GREAT EVIL. By Christobel Pankhurst. One of
the strongest and frankest books ever written, depicting the
dangers of promiscuity in men. This book was once suppressed by
Anthony Comstock. Send (paper) 60c, (cloth) $1.10.

SEXUAL LIFE OF WOMAN. By Dr. E. Heinrich Kisch (Prague). An
epitome of the subject. Sold only to physicians, jurists,
clergymen and educators. Send $5.50.

KRAFFT-EBING’S PSYCHOPATHIA SEXUALIS. Only authorized English
translation of 12th German Edition. By F. J. Rebman. Sold only to
physicians, jurists, clergymen and educators. Price, $4.35.
Special thin paper edition, $1.60.

THE SMALL FAMILY SYSTEM: IS IT IMMORAL OR INJURIOUS? By Dr. C. V.
Drysdale. The question of birth control cannot be intelligently
discussed without knowledge of the facts and figures herein
contained. $1.10, postpaid.

MAN AND WOMAN. By Dr. Havelock Ellis, the foremost authority on
sexual characteristics. A new (5th) edition. Send $1.60.

A new book by Dr. Robinson: THE LIMITATION OF OFFSPRING BY THE
PREVENTION OF PREGNANCY. The enormous benefits of the practice to
individuals, society and the race pointed out and all objections
answered. Send $1.05.

WHAT EVERY GIRL SHOULD KNOW. By Margaret Sanger. Send 55 cents.

WHAT EVERY MOTHER SHOULD KNOW. By Margaret Sanger. Send 30 cents.

THE THEORY OF PSYCHOANALYSIS. By Dr. C. Jung. A concise statement
of the present aspects of the psychoanalytic hypotheses. Price,
$1.50.

SELECTED PAPERS ON HYSTERIA AND OTHER PSYCHONEUROSES. By Prof. S.
Freud, M.D. A selection of some of the more important of Freud’s
writings. Send $2.50.

THREE CONTRIBUTIONS TO SEXUAL THEORY. By John C. Van Dyke. Fully
illustrated. New edition revised and rewritten. Send $1.60.

THREE CONTRIBUTIONS TO SEXUAL THEORY. By Prof. Sigmund Freud. The
psychology of psycho-sexual development. Price, $2.

FUNCTIONAL PERIODICITY. An experimental study of the mental and
motor abilities of women during menstruation by Leta Stetter
Hollingworth. Cloth, $1.15. Paper, 85c.

ART

MICHAEL ANGELO. By Romain Rolland. Twenty-two full-page
illustrations. A critical and illuminating exposition of the
genius of Michael Angelo. $2.65, postpaid.

INTERIOR DECORATION: ITS PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE. By Frank Alvah
Parsons. Illustrated. $3.25, postpaid.

THE BARBIZON PAINTERS. By Arthur Hoeber. One hundred
illustrations in sepia, reproducing characteristic work of the
school. $1.90, postpaid.

THE BOOK OF MUSICAL KNOWLEDGE. By Arthur Elson. Illustrated.
Gives in outline a general musical education, the evolution and
history of music, the lives and works of the great composers, the
various musical forms and their analysis, the instruments and
their use, and several special topics. $3.75, postpaid.

MODERN PAINTING: ITS TENDENCY AND MEANING. By Willard Huntington
Wright, author of “What Nietzsche Taught,” etc. Four color plates
and 24 illustrations. “Modern Painting” gives—for the first time
in any language—a clear, compact review of all the important
activities of modern art which began with Delacroix and ended
only with the war. Send $2.75.

THE ROMANCE OF LEONARDO DA VINCI. By A. J. Anderson. Photogravure
frontispiece and 16 illustrations in half-tone. Sets forth the
great artist as a man so profoundly interested in and closely
allied with every movement of his age that he might be called an
incarnation of the Renaissance. $3.95, postpaid.

THE COLOUR OF PARIS. By Lucien Descaves. Large 8vo. New edition,
with 60 illustrations printed in four colors from paintings by
the Japanese artist, Yoshio Markino. By the members of the
Academy Goncourt under the general editorship of M. Lucien
Descaves. Send $3.30.

SCIENCE AND SOCIOLOGY

CAUSES AND CURES OF CRIME. A popular study of criminology from
the bio-social viewpoint. By Thomas Speed Mosby, former Pardon
Attorney, State of Missouri, member American Institute of
Criminal Law and Criminology, etc. 356 pages, with 100 original
illustrations. Price, $2.15, postpaid.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF RELAXATION. By G. T. W. Patrick. A notable and
unusually interesting volume explaining the importance of sports,
laughter, profanity, the use of alcohol and even war as
furnishing needed relaxation to the higher nerve centres. Send
88c.

PSYCHOLOGY OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. By Dr. C. G. Jung, of the
University of Zurich. Translated by Beatrice M. Hinkle, M.D., of
the Neurological Department of Cornell University and the New
York Post-Graduate Medical School. This remarkable work does for
psychology what the theory of evolution did for biology; and
promises an equally profound change in the thought of mankind. A
very important book. Large 8vo. Send $4.40.

SOCIALIZED GERMANY. By Frederic C. Howe, author of “The Modern
City and Its Problems,” etc., etc.; Commissioner of Immigration
at the Port of New York. “The real peril to the other powers of
western civilization lies in the fact that Germany is more
intelligently organized than the rest of the world.” This book is
a frank attempt to explain this efficiency. $1.00, postpaid.

SCIENTIFIC INVENTIONS OF TODAY. Illustrated. By T. W. Corbin. The
modern uses of explosives, electricity, and the most interesting
kinds of chemicals are revealed to young and old. Send $1.60.

THE HUNTING WASPS. By J. Henri Fabre. 12mo. Bound in uniform
style with the other books by the same author. In the same
exquisite vein as “The Life of the Spider,” “The Life of the
Fly,” etc. Send $1.60.

SCHOOLS OF TOMORROW. By John Dewey and Evelyn Dewey. Illustrated.
A study of a number of the schools of this country which are
using advanced methods of experimenting with new ideas in the
teaching and management of children. The practical methods are
described and the spirit which informs them is analyzed and
discussed. Send $1.60.

THE RHYTHM OF LIFE. By Charles Brodie Patterson. A discussion of
harmony in music and color, and its influence on thought and
character. $1.60, postpaid.

THE FAITHFUL. By John Masefield. A three-act tragedy founded on a
famous legend of Japan. $1.35, postpaid.

INCOME. By Scott Nearing. An economic value is created amounting
to, say, $100. What part of that is returned to the laborer, what
part to the manager, what part to the property owner? This
problem the author discusses in detail, after which the other
issues to which it leads are presented. Send $1.25.

THE STOIC PHILOSOPHY. By Gilbert Murray. An account of the
greatest system of organized thought that the mind of man had
built up in the Graeco-Roman world before the coming of
Christianity. Dr. Murray exercises his rare faculty for making
himself clear and interesting. Send 82c.

A MESSAGE TO THE MIDDLE CLASS. By Seymour Deming. A clarion call
so radical that it may well provoke a great tumult of discussion
and quicken a deep and perhaps sinister impulse to act. Send 60c.

DRIFT AND MASTERY. An attempt to diagnose the current unrest. By
Walter Lippmann. Send $1.60.

FIRST AND LAST THINGS. By H. G. Wells. A confession of Faith and
a Rule of Life. Send $1.60.

THE SOCIALISTS AND THE WAR. By William English Walling. No
Socialist can adequately discuss the war without the knowledge
that this remarkable new book holds. 512 pages. Complete
documentary statement of the position of the Socialists of all
countries. Send $1.50.

DREAMS AND MYTHS. By Dr. Karl Abraham. A lucid presentation of
Freud’s theory of dreams. A study in comparative mythology from
the standpoint of dream psychology. Price, $1.25.

WHAT WOMEN WANT. By Beatrice Forbes-Robertson Hale. $1.35 net;
postage, 10c.

ARE WOMEN PEOPLE? A collection of clever woman suffrage verses.
The best since Mrs. Gilman. Geo. H. Doran Co. Send 75c.

HOW IT FEELS TO BE THE HUSBAND OF A SUFFRAGETTE. By “Him.”
Illustrated by Mary Wilson Preston. Send 60c.