The Little Review, October 1915 (Vol. 2, No. 7)

In Short

This volume is an original issue of The Little Review, a foundational periodical of the 1915 modernist movement. It functions as a vibrant mosaic of its era, assembling challenging poetry, spirited literary criticism, and radical social commentary. By platforming voices like Ben Hecht and Ellen Key, the magazine sought to dismantle the stifling influence of American Puritanism and traditionalist aesthetics. It has endured as a primary historical record of the intellectual ferment that redefined literature, capturing the exact moment when writers began to forcefully assert their independence from the stifling constraints of the past.

The Story

The narrative arc of this issue is one of calculated iconoclasm. It opens with the intense, atmospheric prose of Ben Hecht, whose "Songs and Sketches" immediately establish a tone of existential longing and artistic revolt. Hecht positions the artist as a tragic, solitary figure, one who finds a dark, necessary beauty in suffering and the "madness of silence." Through his eyes, the reader is plunged into a world where conventional morality is treated as a hollow shell, and the only authentic human response to a decaying social order is the creation of art.

From this moody introduction, the publication shifts its gaze toward the broader cultural battlefield. The tone becomes overtly combative in the assessment of Theodore Dreiser, whose novel The "Genius" is championed as a hammer blow against the rigid, hypocritical architecture of American Puritanism. Here, the struggle is not merely aesthetic but moral; the magazine argues that true artistic vision requires a radical embrace of human complexity, including the "perfidious polygamy" and natural, primitive urges that polite society finds intolerable. The narrative of the issue moves from these internal, artistic crises to the global stage, with a sobering editorial analysis of Russia’s political awakening during the war. It paints a portrait of a nation undergoing a painful, violent purification, where a corrupt bureaucracy is contrasted with the stoic, lion-hearted courage of the common soldier.

As the issue progresses, the focus turns to the individual’s fragile relationship with truth. This is most poignantly realized in the account of a man named Henry Spencer, whose journey from a life of crime to a state of religious ecstasy—followed by his execution—serves as a bleak meditation on the human ego. Despite his newfound "buoyant" faith, his final, desperate assertion of innocence on the scaffold is brushed aside, illustrating the magazine’s central, recurring argument: that the human spirit is too weak to confront the naked, brutal truth, and that society prefers the simple comfort of lies. The issue concludes by looking toward the future, through a thoughtful exploration of Romain Rolland’s work and a series of "Sophomoric Epigrams" that celebrate youth as the only source of genuine vision. The final pages shift to the "Reader Critic" section, where the publication engages directly with its audience, inviting them to participate in the ongoing, often heated debate about the role of literature in a world desperate for liberation from its own stale traditions.

How It Unfolds

The call to night The issue begins by invoking the darkness as a muse, using the imagery of black wings and hidden wounds to set a tone of somber, mystical intimacy. This establishes the artist as one who must venture into the shadow to find the clarity that the daylight suppresses.

The attack on puritanism The focus shifts to a robust defense of Theodore Dreiser, framing his work as a direct assault on the "caramel chorus" of American fiction. This section argues that the genius must be an iconoclast who dares to portray life in all its messy, immoral, and raw intensity.

The tragedy of the truth-seeker The account of the doomed prisoner Henry Spencer provides the emotional anchor, examining how a man can find grace while facing the gallows. It serves as a grim case study on the futility of seeking justice in a system that favors clear-cut narratives over the complexities of human experience.

The global and the timeless The issue expands to include an analysis of Russia’s wartime transformation and a meditation on Romain Rolland’s philosophy of action and beauty. These pieces ground the magazine’s abstract rebelliousness in the immediate, violent realities of 1915 while looking toward a more unified human future.

The People

Ben Hecht serves as the primary voice of the issue’s aesthetic, embodying a restless, poetic spirit that rejects comfort in favor of intensity. He is the observer who finds beauty in the decay of the poplar leaves and the "still wounds" of the night, acting as a guide for the reader through the landscape of the modern soul. Theodore Dreiser appears not merely as a novelist but as a force of nature—a "Dionysian dastard" whose work forces the reader to confront the reality of human desire. Through the lens of his protagonist Witla, he represents the refusal to be contained by the "cages" of traditional marriage and moral expectation.

Henry Spencer occupies the most tragic position, appearing as an illiterate, unformed soul who accidentally stumbles into a profound, if ultimately futile, encounter with the divine. His transformation from a criminal to a man transfigured by faith creates a stark contrast with the hardened, bureaucratic world that ultimately executes him. Finally, Romain Rolland emerges as the intellectual anchor of the issue. Portrayed as a "thoroughly-trained connoisseur," he represents the synthesis of music, ethics, and action, serving as a beacon for the younger generation who seek to breathe the "breath of heroes" rather than rot in the stagnant air of the past.

In Its Own Voice

"I will make of the dull tears you bring me—lyrics."

Hecht declares his intent to transform the pain of life into a higher, artistic form.

"To him matrimony is naturally a pit, a degradation, a series of cages, for he is the eternal masculine."

The editors characterize the defiant perspective of a genius who refuses to subordinate his nature to social conventions.

"The human ego is too weak for truth."

This observation summarizes the magazine’s cynical, yet deeply compassionate, view of why society must inevitably fail those who seek honest redemption.

What It's Really About

At its core, this collection is an argument for the supremacy of the individual spirit over the ossified structures of tradition. It interrogates the nature of "truth," suggesting that while society craves neat, moralistic answers, reality is a chaotic, often brutal landscape that only the artist can properly map. The contributors grapple with the tension between the "freedom" of youth and the "stagnation" of age, ultimately asking whether an authentic life is even possible within a civilization governed by rigid, performative morality. It is a document that values the élan vital—the vital force of living—above all else, positioning the act of artistic creation as a necessary, if dangerous, form of rebellion against a world that prefers its citizens to be predictable, compliant, and comfortably numb.

Why Read It Today

Readers who value the raw energy of the early 20th-century avant-garde will find this issue indispensable. It captures a specific, electric moment when the "modern" was still a fight to be won, rather than a category of history. To read it is to feel the heat of the arguments, the arrogance of the youth, and the genuine, aching desire for a new way to understand the world.

Modern readers should be prepared for the period’s specific linguistic patterns and its sometimes startlingly blunt, fatalistic attitudes toward criminality and social progress. There is an unapologetic intensity here—a belief that art should be "sledge hammer blows" rather than polite conversation. While some of the cultural references belong firmly to 1915, the fundamental frustration with "doddering banality" and the desire to "open the windows to get air" remain startlingly contemporary. You will not find easy resolutions or comforting prose; instead, you will find a vivid, sometimes jagged, portrait of a generation trying to tear down the "golden tombs" of their predecessors to make room for something that feels, for the first time, like their own.