Modernist Magazines and Digital Humanities

         Much of the world was in financial distress after World War I, a time during which the editor of Poetry, Hariet Monroe, was vacationing in the United States southwest. Naturally, many of the modernist magazines during this era touched directly on the financial after affects of World War I in articles and advertisements, Poetry instead chronicles is a collection of Cowboy Songs, New Mexico Folk Songs, and Western Poems. This is in direct response, to the editors fishing trip to New Mexico as illustrated by her essay "In Texas and New Mexico: "While campaign oratory is loud in the land, and the nation is weighing it's two or three candidates in the balance and wishing it had more, what can most of us do but go fishing?"(September 1920 Vol.16 No.6 p.324). A bit of a trail-blazer, Monroe continually writes on a newer model typewriter than her contemporaries; she is forever bucking current social mores in her own manner.

         As a  woman of literary stature during the suffrage movement, she speaks nothing of the efforts of her fellow females until 1920, and when she does it is practially in opposition. In an article titled "Women or Men?" Monroe confirms what statistics of her era show: that men are superior to women in the field of poetry: 

                                             The controversy is amusing, but perhaps also enlightening.
                                             The editor had suspected masculine preponderance in
                                             the magazine, but by no means to such a degree as the figures
                                             prove. They confirm her impression that more men
                                             than women find in this art—for better or worse, for joy
                                             or sorrow—their friend and confidant.(June 1920 Vol.16 No.3 p.147).

As illustrated in the essay, "The Conflicted Role of Women During World War I," Hariet Monroe was an unconventional feminist: "In her editorial policy, Hariet Monroe exemplified the goals of the feminist movement by acting in a position of power, but she did it without affiliating her magazine with the movement" (June 2009). Instead, she focused primarily on the culture of poetry in America, which was at the time as unappreciated as the role of women in the workforce. It was her role as a woman in the magazine which caused her to play a role in the feminist movement. Likewise, the role of Poetry in initiating culture helped to bolster American nationalism after World War I. The subject of the southwest is present in her Editorial because it represents to her the roots of American poetry. It is for this reason that she quotes The Nation in her essay "Frugality and Depreciation" which argues to fund poetic endeavors (namely her magazine) in spite of financially trying times: "The pitiful amount of public or private assistance given to American artists, men of letters, scientists, is one of the scandals of our civilization."(October 1920 Vol.17 No.1 p.31). Hariet Monroe supports women insofar as she is a successful woman, similarly, she supports her country insofar as it funds her art-of-choice and her magazine.

A modern woman of the post-war world:

 

 By Elsie Dwyer, Calgary Martin, and Abra Stokowski

Various magazines during and immediately following the first World War dealt with gender in a variety of ways, both subtle and explicit.  While publications like Blast  sought outright to affirm specific essentialist beliefs about both men’s and women’s roles during wartime, others, like The Owl, shied away from making overt political statements.  However, even within the pages of The Owl and similar magazines with a strictly literary mission, like Poetry and the Sitwells’ Wheels, gender roles were often explored and re-imagined.  While male poets like W.J. Turner depicted female objects as symbolic of the innocence and harmony which was lost as a result of the war, female poets like Edith Sitwell and Iris Tree defied Blast creator Wyndham Lewis’s view of women’s domestic roles during wartime, by writing poems with female speakers whose interior lives are far richer than Lewis’s or even Turner’s simplistic, essentialist vision would allow.  Further, essays in The New Age, such as Alice Morning’s piece “The Enemy in the House,” imagined roles for women as dissenters who could affect the war’s outcome despite being removed from the action and relegated to the home.
     Blast magazine, and Vorticism in general, was male dominated. The magazine’s general impression of the war was that it was a necessary fight for the country of England and for the freedom of art.  On the contrary, the magazine’s impression of women was that they had a very specific role in society, and very little to do with war, a concept that the editors believed women could not possibly understand due to the fundamental differences between the genders.  Blast’s July 1916 issue is called the War Number and is dedicated almost exclusively to World War I. It speaks openly about the war, discussing it explicitly and implicitly in essays and poems. The masculine magazine establishes a pro-war agenda immediately, and leaves no question of allegiance.
      In Wyndham Lewis’ piece “The European War and Great Communities,” he analyzes specifically what brought on the war. He also examines what makes men fight, deciding that it is a fundamental need for their gender, as they have had to fight for their lives for centuries and will continue to have to do so in the future. He explains that it does not matter what they fight about, or who is correct, because “they are as willing to fight for one immediate thing as another, under these circumstances; since, ‘life is the only thing that matters,’ and it is for life both sides fight, and therefore both are right,” (No. 2, page16).  He asserts that war will never go away, for as long as men vie for power as communities, which they inevitably will, there will always be war. In proclaiming this he begins to explore gender roles.

Murder and destruction is man’s fundamental occupation. Women’s function, the manufacturing of children (even more important than cartridges and khaki suits) is only important from this point of view, and they evidently realize this thoroughly. It takes the deft women we employ anything from twelve to sixteen years to fill and polish these little human cartridges, and they of course get fond of them in the process. However, all this is not our fault, and is absolutely necessary. We only begin decaying like goods kept too long, if we are not killed or otherwise disposed of. Is not this a proof of our function? (17) 

Ignoring the fact that women also age and “decay,” Lewis decides that this is a woman’s only role in war: to make male babies that will eventually entrench themselves in battle to serve their primary duty. He goes on to state that women, due to the basal differences between the genders and thus their different roles in society, will never understand war. “I overheard two ladies the other day conversing on this subject, and one, with an immense jaw, flabby cheeks, and otherwise very large, said: ‘It is such a waste of good human flesh!’” (17)  Other than in the production of soldiers, women have no role in war because they cannot understand the duty that drives men to fight.
     One of the few female Vorticists, Jessie Dismorr, writes about wartime London in the same July issue of Blast, in a piece entitled “London Notes.” She writes about the ways in which public meeting places in London were completely unaffected by the fighting that raged on around them. Describing the places and people in rather grotesque terms, she does not mention the war. She merely makes implications by ignoring it, in the same way that regular citizens tried to ignore it. The war was not an issue for The Reading Room or Fleet Street. These were not literally the battlegrounds. She describes Hyde Park saying,

[A]ll the morning women sit sewing and knitting, their monotonous occupation accompanying the agreeable muddle of their thoughts. In the Row. Vitality civilized to a needles-point; highly-bred men and horses pass swiftly in useless delightful motion; women walk enamoured of their own accomplished movements. (66)

Despite being a woman, Dismorr sticks to the agenda of the magazine. She describes women in wartime as being mostly useless, and all but thoughtless. The men are well bred and on horseback. Calling to mind images of battle, they are described as being almost heroic. Though they are not literally at war, they seem to possess the same qualities of the men at war. The women sit and knit, thinking frivolous things, and find it difficult to walk and think at the same time. They cannot understand the concept of war, if questions about war even occur to them at all. They stick to their sewing, and their subordinate role as the mothering twits of society.
     While there is little mention at all of feminism or suffrage in the English magazine Blast, American bred Scribner’s magazine has many essays and stories about the movement. These pieces, however, do not tend to coincide with anything about the Great War. It was evidentially the view of the editors of both magazines that a woman’s role in war was at home, where they desperately missed their husbands, who were fighting out of a sense of masculine duty.  “The Misgivings of a Male Suffragette” is an anonymously written piece appearing in the October 1915 issue of Scribner’s. It is about a male feminist wondering in which direction the suffrage movement is heading. He begins by explaining that his wife Mary is a suffragette. She convinces him to go to a parade in honor of their movement, telling him that a friend of hers, Mrs. Watson, is also going but has not told her husband. Mary hopes that the writer will come just in case Watson finds out what his wife is doing, as the writer will be able to calm the angry husband down. (He is, in fact, Watson’s superior at work, and also on a membership committee for a club Watson would like to be involved with.)  The writer explains how Watson’s wife eventually came clean about the scenario, and how Watson joined the cause.  Ultimately, the writer is impressed with the success of his wife’s plan. “As far as it goes it is stupendously efficient, the feminine way of doing things!”  (Volume 58, no. 4, page 494) The writer implies that diplomacy, the attempt to avoid conflict, is inherently feminine. Indeed later, when a policeman speaking to the writer says that he is willing to “give” women the vote, Mary becomes infuriated, saying that they will not have it given to them; they will take it. As the writer puts it, he had “never seen [his] wife look more handsome.” (496). When his wife demonstrates the will to fight, he begins to see her as masculine. He goes on to struggle with the fact that he thinks the same way that the policeman did. As a man, he envisioned himself giving the vote to women, who would otherwise not be allowed it. While the writer seems to embrace feminism as an ideal, he cannot wrap his mind around men and women being equal. To him their differences naturally and bodily prevent such a thing. They are not equal. Women have children and men fight. After a lengthy argument that higher taxes discourage women from having more children, he comes to the conclusion that children are work, and are in fact the work that women so desperately seek. He discusses this theory with Mr. Watson, who adds to the argument the dynamic of what war does to women:

‘It explains why in England they have militants. The colonization of the empire has drained the home country of its men, leaving upward of a million women who haven't a ghost of a show even for a husband.’ A slow grin wreathed his face. ‘And the real war-cry of the suffragettes, as they roll bombs beneath the great chair of the prime minister is: '’Give us back our husbands! Give us back our husbands!’ (500)

In their eyes even suffragettes find little value in their lives outside of their domestic lives, and with their husbands away they find little value in the war. Like the editors and contributors of Blast, this writer seems to find that women have one role in society in a time of war: to be home waiting for their husbands to arrive back. They have no concept of why the war is important, and they have no palpable role in battle.
     One of the most obvious roles of women on the battlegrounds is that of army nurse. With this in mind, one might expect to see some mention of these vital cogs in the war machine in a Scribner’s piece called “War-Time Sketches in France.”  Appearing in the June 1916 issue, the piece is an essay by Herbert Ward, accompanied by the writer’s drawings. The main subject is soldiers and the soldiers’ stories. A harsh look at the atrocities of battle, the writer often discusses the backdrop of the beautiful French countryside against which the dreadful fighting is taking place. Despite mentioning ambulances, doctors, and hospital shelters, there is no mention of women on the frontlines. In fact, there is only one mention of women at all throughout the entire essay, which comes after a description of the gorgeous land marred by battle: “I have had occasion to read some of the letters of these splendid, simple French soldiers, written under shell and rifle fire, wherein they actually described the beauty of the sunrise to their womenfolk at home” (Vol. 59, no. 6, page 679). Even when women were tangibly involved in the war effort they were ignored, and their rightful place was thought to be at home.
     While magazines like Blast and Scribner’s were defining or even ignoring women's roles during the war, the engagement of such issues in publications like The Owl and Wheels was less explicit.  The former, which distributed two issues at the close of the war in 1919, and another in 1923, purported itself to "ha[ve] no politics and lead[] no new movements" (The Owl, no. 1, page 5).  As such, the war, no doubt on the minds of both The Owl's authors and readership regardless of any mission statement, infiltrated the magazine in more subtle ways: various pieces expressed a longing for a return to innocence and carefree beauty, while others were characterized by feelings of darkness and fear.  "Petunia" by W.J Turner, from the October 1919 issue, relates the speaker/poet's vision of a future daughter he will call Petunia, who will

dance, her small face
So bright that no sorrow'll befall her.
From this dark pot of earth, from this sun-clouded hollow
Like a rainbow she'll spring and a blue sky shall follow"
(No. 1, pages 10-12)

This “dark pot of earth" and "sun-clouded hollow" may easily represent the climate of hopelessness and gloom created by the war; consequently, Petunia becomes an emblem of hope for a less complicated future, one that is "bright" and free of sorrow.  Turner also envisions Petunia to be a lover of the natural world, of a more primitive and carefree existence.  Imagining that he will teach his daughter "the songs of Apollo," he goes on to describe the cult of the sun god, whose disciples are "white-armed maidens/ Sing[ing] in the soft dusks of summer."  Contrary to a world marred by the violence and destruction of war, the picture he paints of his daughter represents not only the hope for a lighter, more joyful existence, but also for a return to the fertile simplicity of a life in harmony with nature.  The worshippers of Apollo with whom he associates Petunia and in “the green” of whose eyes and “tresses,/ The forests of ocean are blowing,” are further described as personifications of that harmony.  The fact that the poem has projected all this hope onto a female child rather than a male one is significant when one considers the masculinist attitudes (like those prevailing in Blast) which motivate war.  Petunia represents a kind of mystical femininity, a source of magic “that flows up at dawn/ Out of earth’s darkness leaping” (No. 1, page 11) which can renew the poet, who envisions himself “wrinkled and worn,” as a symbolic representative of the war-torn world.
     Another interesting example from The Owl 2, of feminine associations with nature, can be found in a drawing by Pamela Bianco entitled “Fairyland.”  This drawing affirms the Blast position of a woman’s place in times of war: Bianco depicts the two central figures, both female, as stereotypic earth mothers, attired in clothes adorned with details from the natural world, and as caretakers, surrounded by naked, unself-conscious babies with angel wings.  This is a scene of peace and tranquility, with absolutely no associations or references to war whatsoever.  However, as with Turner’s poem and any work published during a war, the violent climate at the time of publication must be considered.  While the war raged outside the pages of the magazine, this illustration represents an ideal in contrast with reality.  Additionally, as Turner’s vision of his future daughter Petunia expresses a desire to return to a less complicated, innocent state of being, the appearance of Bianco’s painting immediately following the poem suggests a relationship between the two.  Indeed, the painting may easily be viewed as a visual representation of the world Turner imagines for Petunia: that is to say, a place in the future, a kind of utopia, which embodies ideals from the past.  The gowns worn by the women in the painting are in the Victorian style and reference a less complicated time, of a pastoral lifestyle, of fertility and harmony with nature.  The absence of men in this utopia is significant: war, quite clearly depicted as the domain of men in magazines throughout the era, like Blast and even Scribner’s which aligned itself with suffragist/feminist politics, is inextricably linked with the masculine; as such, the female figures in Bianco’s painting, depicted in wreaths of flowers, with leaves traveling up their skirts and bodices, represent a rejection of masculinist ideals and the war.  Rather, the ideal is represented here as it is in Turner’s poem: a celebration of the mystical feminine, of joy and harmony in nature, of peace precluding discord.
     Although themes of female gender and the war were touched on opaquely in The Owl, the magazine noticeably lacked any female authorship to express the opinions and feelings of women themselves during the war.  Wheels, however, featured woman poets regularly, particularly the work of Edith Sitwell and Iris Tree.  Contrasting with the view of women as frivolous beings whose only occupation during wartime lies within the domestic sphere, Sitwell’s poem “The Mother”, from the March 1917 issue, presents a more complicated view of motherhood.  While the presence of children in Turner’s and Bianco’s work ostensibly represents fertility, growth, innocence, tranquility and is, for writers like Wyndham Lewis, emblematic of women’s true role in wartime, Sitwell both reaffirms this trope and destroys it.  She admits that the birth of her son was a time of great joy heralding “the spring,” “birds,” and blossoms,” and releasing streams from “winter run,” but goes on to lament the loss of the child as he grows to manhood (Vol. 1, page 48).  During their time together, in the boy’s youth, his “sunlit hair was all [her] gold,” but when he becomes a man, he leaves her empty and resentful of the female lover who has come to take her place in the child’s life.  This retelling of women’s roles in the lives of their children defies the simplistic, rather disdainful view taken by masculinist authors like Lewis, who saw women’s roles in the domestic sphere as inferior to the great acts performed by men in war.  While women were expected by society to devote their lives to the rearing of children, the speaker in Sitwell’s poem explores the interior world of the mother, and the physical and emotional realities of those expectations, which are characterized by feelings of abandonment and a lost sense of self.  When her child becomes a man, the poet imagines that her son plots to “kill her while [she] slept,” merely in his decision to leave her protection and take a lover.  “The Mother” is a poem which paints women’s lives during this period of war and upheaval as equally marred by violence and loss as those of their fighting male counterparts.  No longer occupied by the all-consuming demands of parenting, the speaker, as the mother of a grown child, must nagivate her way through a world in which she no longer serves any purpose: no longer actively functioning as a mother, she considers herself already dead, yet forever haunted by the memory of her beloved child, whose name her “pierced heart scream[s] …within the dark” of her barren existence (49).  Another possible reading of the poem casts the mother’s enemy, not as a female lover, but as the world itself, in which wars are fought and sons are murdered.  The poem closes with the mother’s lament that she has failed her child, whose body hangs like a “blackened rag/ Upon the tree—a monstrous flag” (50).  In this reading, the mother is consumed by her grief and feels responsible for her failure to protect the child she loved with so much of her being.  She says, “All mine, all mine the sin; the love/ I bore him was not deep enough.”  In this way, the death the mother experiences comes as a result of her child’s death; she has failed the son and thus finds no more joy in living.  Regardless of women’s expected or prescribed passivity during times when men fought for their countries and their homes, Sitwell’s poem makes explicit the anguish and violence that women experience, regardless, even as they are kept at a distance from the fighting.
     Another poem written by a female and published in the fourth cycle of Wheels, which came out in 1919, is Iris Tree’s “Changing Mirrors.”  Like Sitwell, Tree complicates conventional views of women in the post-war era.  Her poem depicts a scene in which the speaker (presumably female) sees herself “in many different dresses,” each representing different facets of her personality and desires (No. 4, page 48).  Interestingly enough, none of the speaker’s visions of herself include motherhood.  Instead, she constructs a female identity which consists of a variety of other types, specifically “poisoners, martyrs, harlots and princesses.”  Just as the above-mentioned authors in both Wheels and The Owl opaquely reference the dark climate of the world associated with the war, Tree’s speaker refers to a “grey” world “where solemn faces/ are silence to [her] mirth—a flame that blesses/ From yellow lamp the darkness which oppresses.”  While the world around her is one of darkness, the female speaker is not consumed by it. Rather, the current of despair and oppression affects her just as it affects anyone, male or female, declaring: “Within my soul a thousand weary traces/ Of pain and joy and passionate excesses.” Like Sitwell, Tree imagines for her female speaker a deep interior life which belies the view that women were uncomplicated beings, incapable of fully understanding the ramifications of the war being fought by men.  Unlike Sitwell’s poem, however, Tree’s is rather universal, speaking of a world in which all people, not just women or men exclusively, experience the same kinds of happiness and sorrow.  Her speaker, shifting through different moods and feelings throughout her life, symbolized by her ever-changing dresses, considers not only herself but all beings when she names, in her conclusion, the “eternal beauty our [emphasis mine] brief life chases.”  By exploring, however simply, the interior life of a woman, otherwise neglected and simplified by male authors of the war and post-war era, Tree simultaneously equalizes her female subject with its male counterparts.  The poem asserts that joy and pain are emotions experienced by all creatures and contradicts the notion that either feeling is essentially male or essentially female. 
     In Poetry, as in The Owl and Wheels, gender and war are not topics addressed together directly at length, although both are ostensibly present in the minds of the poets whose writing filled the publication. When the two subjects are at play simultaneously, the consideration of both war and gender is very subtle: women often appear as caretakers, lovers, mothers, and subjects of adoration, which gives hints of how women’s roles were primarily defined, even in war times. So, in poems about female figures, the war is presented as a non-subject around which the woman’s role molds itself, but does not enter into. On the other hand, poems which do deal with the war directly, tend to be about men, and are written by men. One poem in which the female viewpoint of war’s effects can be seen in a January 1914 poem titled “A Woman and Her Dead Husband.”  The poem hauntingly describes a woman addressing her deceased husband directly, apparently from their own bed, with the cause of his death left entirely ambiguous. Perhaps his death was due to war.  If not, however, the focus in the poem is upon death, a war-time subject, and the poem is actually written by a male, D. H. Lawrence, who maybe imagines the reverberation of a soldier’s potential death through his household. The subject of this poem is a reflection of the idea, reiterated so often in Blast and Scribner’s, that a woman has no direct role in the battles herself, although her own role, as lover and wife, may be entirely destroyed by her husband’s death.  The pleas of the woman to her husband, asking if he is playing a joke on her, being so cold and pale, serves to magnify the horror and sympathy the reader feels for the woman.
     Another poem from Poetry was published in August of 1918, and is titled “To a Grey Dress.” In this poem, gender roles are more pronounced, and the subject of World War I is not present except for in the very conspicuousness of its absence. In the piece, a woman whose face is never seen is admired by a male as she walks through the trees: just a gray dress and the curves which fill the garment. The man watching her is thrown into fantasies based simply upon the femininity of her figure, although her identity is entirely unknown. The tone of the poem is one of happy distraction, and even the title itself is playful in its slight absurdity. This is another example of women’s perceived roles during World War I: as figures of joyous, simple preoccupation, creatures who stand apart from the violence of the battle, although nameless and faceless, without identities of their own.
     While Poetry considered the conflict in a more indirect and emotional fashion, another magazine, The New Age often featured articles which addressed the war in a more theoretical way. The New Age included opinion pieces, reviews, and creative writing, and two such articles in the magazine were published by Alice Morning. The first was included in January of 1916, and was a quite heavy-handed allegorical tale called “Feminine Fables: The Style of the Peri.”  The story describes a female angel who is banished from Paradise for one day, due to missing the closing of the gate at dawn. It was assumed that if an angel is late, he or she was committing an indiscretion while visiting the mortals. Rather than sulking over her temporary banishment, the angel declares, “I shall not walk in solitude around this idiotic style!” referring to the “distorting column” around which the excluded are expected to pace in distress (Vol. 7, no. 4, page 257). In the lone paragraph of the story which diverges from the symbolic tone, the author’s voice seems to shine through with passion, stating that similar punishments exist in the world of mortals: men, like the Peris--and like the devil, Morning adds--only punish what is detected. Had the angel been committing indiscretions, but returned on time, there would have been no punishment. Having missed the dawn, it is assumed that she was engaged in disallowed behavior. Whether this refers to lack of loyalty to one’s country is unclear, but it seems that a political and perhaps gender-based unfairness is being pointed out by Morning. The angel is described as exceedingly feminine, with a full bust, wide hips, jewelry, and the pouting tone of a spoiled child. In the end, however, the angel makes peace with her fate and feels “very good friends with herself.” (258) The independence of the angel is contrasted with the entitled and flippant attitude with which Morning generally characterizes this very feminine creature, suggesting perhaps a changing sense of female identity.
     Another article by Morning was published in June of 1916, an essay about the terrors of war, called “The Enemy in the House.”  In this piece, Morning argues that the so-called "impotent horror" (Vol. 8, no. 3, page160) of war needs to be transformed into “horror potent” (161). This outcry against war, she writes, most naturally comes from women themselves, who provide a kind of check on violence by voicing their objections. That, she argues, is a woman’s role during war: as a protester.  Under no circumstances should women mingle freely and routinely among scenes of violence. She believes that a woman’s horrified reaction to violence is the key to preventing barbarism. In writing this article, with confidence and an outspoken quality, the author asserts her ability to form her own opinions and hold them firmly. However, the role which she advocates for women is rather stereotypical. While the piece affirms a woman’s ability to think independently, ultimately her ideas about women’s roles away from the violence and action of war do not defy convention.
     Clearly, gender proved, as ever, to be a complicated, even contentious issue both during and after the Great War.  While some male authors persisted in their belief that women could not serve any useful purpose outside the home and were thus inferior to the valorous men who risked their lives to protect their countries, other writers sought to depict women in less benign ways: as symbols of the very peace and freedom of spirit which male soldiers fought for.  Less romantically, female authors depicted women as mere humans whose emotions and interior lives were as rich as their brave male counterparts.  Regardless, or perhaps as result of the divergent and often dichotomous positions taken by writers and artists of the time, the “little magazines” provide an interesting glimpse into the interplay between men and women as they struggled to reconcile their evolving roles in a world forever changed by the four-year war.  
 

There are an abundance of essays and articles that focus on the war within the many issues of "Scribner's Magazine". One of the essays that stood out to me was "War and the Artist" by Rufus Fairchild Zogbaum, which appeared in Vol 57, No.1 in January 1915. The author tried to connect war with art. He explained that the essence of war gives inspiration to the artist. He says that from the beginning of time there have been countless depictions of war from many different artist. We have evidence of it from ancient egyptian times. He feels that the emotions that come along with war, such as: "Patriotism and treason, courage and cowardice, self-sacrifice and ambition, love and hatred", have always been apart of war. These emotions are what inspire the best artist to do their work. I think this essay was placed in the magazine as a sort of inspiration to artists of the time. The author praises English and American Modern artist for "dealing with actual condtions instead of the fanciful and pretentious" in their portrayal of scences of war. I felt that he was trying to get more artist to be involved and to create artwork about the war. Although he doesn't really address his politic opinion about the war, I still got the sense that he was for any kind of war because of what it brought to the aesthetic world.

After looking through some of the other issues of the magazine, I saw that there was one essay that appeared twice in two different issues. The essay "A Bomb Thrower in the Trenches" by Lieutenant Z of the British Army, appeared in Vol. 60 No.1 from July 1916, as well as Vol. 60 No.2 from August of the same year. The essay is a series of letters written "from the trenches by an Englishman who enlisted as a trooper in one of the new calvary regiments at the outbreak of the war". The letters vividly describe different scenes from the war, witnessing of deaths all around him, and the exhaustion that comes along with war. I believe it had to be an essay of great importance for it to show up twice back to back. The essay seems very nationalist in the sense that he never gave up. He was always trying to do better and to help out in anyway that he could. This was probably the message that they were trying to send by publishing this essay. They wanted to show people that even though it was a difficult war, it was important that everyone contributed wholeheartedly.

            In many issues of Poetry Hariet Monroe, the long-standing editor of the magazine, included editorial commentary in the form of an essay at the end of the publication. The purpose of such statements was usually to make clear her oppinion on a social or political issue as it pretained to poetry and the publication of poets. One such publication titled "Hard Times Indeed" which argues for the functionality of the poet in: "a strenuous age, of universal locomotion, war and other bedevilments"(308).The statment is made in response to an annonymous submission in the Atlantic Monthly which asserts: "art is dead under the curse of universal locomotion"(308). The submitee goes on to say that were a "minor poet" try to emerge admist the rubble of the modern world, he would: "...wake up in these days to find himself a child in a world of energetic, serious maturity"(308). What follows in her essay is a re-quoting of her opponent and a rebuttle made with cheer-leader like enthusiasm only equaled by present-day infomercial hosts or--dare I say-- democratic politicains in debade:

                                          Were Coleridge, Keats, Shelley—
                                          many others—struck dumb by the terrible and noble facts
                                          of the Napoleonic wars?—yet these singers of "clouds and
                                          leaves and elfin things" were minor poets to their contemporaries.
                                          Did any one of them hush his "sweet-chiming
                                          words" to "leave more room for the great songs sure to
                                          come?" No, for he knew that the great song, the great
                                          work of art, is merely the highest tree of a forest, rarely an
                                           isolated miracle.(309)

           The show made of these annonymous statements is an example of what Mark Morrisson calls: "...the advertising value of spectacle..."(121) in "Marketing British Modernism." Since Poetry not only touted it's variety of poets, both new and emerging, it also kept its final pages as a kind of discussion forum where ideas about art, poetry and contemporary poets could be written upon by their excitable colleauges. Monroe and Pound were often at the center of the ring, and their excitable literary personalities made the editorials as much of a draw to the magazine as the poetry itself.

           Established by Hariet Monroe in 1912, Poetry:A Magazine of Verse heralded the emergence of American poetry. Although the art was thriving in England and France, the United States was still young and unsure of itself. In the stead of the American poet, Walt Whitman, Americans were faced the question of just what American modern poetry was like. Poetry subsequently became Chicago's version of The English Review; publishing both established and emerging poets, Monroe intially held what she called an "open door policy" when it came to submissions. She expresses this the second issue of Poetry, "The Open Door will be the policy of this magazine--may the great poet we are looking for never find it shut, of half-shut, against his ample genius"(November 1912 Vol.1 No.2 64). While the magazine indeed continued to publish new poets, the door through which they passed gained definition as the magazine matured along with the culture of American poetry. The commenary from Poetry's editors between 1912 and 1914, provides vivid examples of the dialoge among critics as to the nature of modern poetry, particularly modern poetry in the "New World."

            Alice Corbin Henderson, a fellow editor of the magazine, wastes no time inciting the discussion of American poetic identity. In the second issue of Poetry, she addresses the fact that American poets such as Edgar Allen Poe and Walt Whitman were not recognized by American critics until after they were discoverd by European and French critcs. She writes, "Must we always accept American genius in this round-about fashion? Have we not the perspective that we applaud mediocrity at home and look abroad for genius only to find that it is of American origin?"(December 1912 Vol.1 No.3 87). In her statement, Henderson condences the plight of the American poet. Beneath the shadow of Europe's rich history and fervent assertion of independent philosophies, The American poetic ideneity would have to assert itself among the authors present in their own country, to seek out those authors, and most importantly to build a body of critics--a culture of poetry--which could support such authors. Later in the volume, Jesse B. Rittenhouse discusses the emergence of a cotiere with such a purpose in mind. Rittenhouse explains, "The Poetry Society of America, organized in 1910 was a natural response, perhaps at the time unconsious, to the reawakened interest in poetry, now so widely apparant"(Feburary 1913 Vol.1 No.5 166). As the culture of American poetry emerged around societies such as this one and magazines like Monroe's, the need for a philosophy--a working manifesto--of what modern American poetry and the American poet looked and sounded like.

             Swiftly following Henderson's earlier inquiry, Monroe published an editorial comment titled, "The New Beauty." In it, she seems to refute her earlier "open door policy" calling much of the poetic submissions the magazine recieved "pathetically ingenious in their intellectual attitude, [and their writers] as unaware of the twenth century as if they had spend these recent years in an Elizabethan manor house"(April 1913 Vol.2 No.1 22). Redifining her policy, she uses assertive language, not to define what the "new beauty" is but the way by which the poet might aim at acheving it. Monroe writes:

                                               It is not a question of subject, nor yet of form, this
                                               new beauty which must inspire every artist worthy of
                                               the age he lives in. The poet is not a follower, but a
                                               leader; he is a poet not because he can measure words
                                               or express patly current ideas, but because the new
                                               beauty is a vision in his eyes and a passion in his heart,
                                               and because he must strain every sinew of his spirit to
                                               reveal it to the world. (April 1913 Vol.2 No.1 22-25).

             Monroe's editorial comment signals a distinct change not only in the nature of the magazine, but of it's content. By moving beyond her open door policy and instead providing creative directions for poets submitting work, Monroe takes on a mentoring role, much like Ezra Pound's, amid the modernist movement. It would not be far fetched to say suppose that Pound's later editorial presence influenced Monroe's vision of approaching American poetry and "the new beauty." Much in the way the American poetic identity needed a body of individuals to foster it, the body of critics needed a philosophy by which to guide their fellow writers. Each philosophy would be greatly determined by the nature of the culture from which it sprung, the politics of it's people and, in an increasingly globalized world, their country's role in global relations.

            Global events such as World War I would become dominant factors in influencing the philosophy of these new writers. In a December 1914 issue of Poetry, 6 months into World War I, Harriet Monroe gives a unique Christmas address illustrating the undeniable influence of global events onto the magazine. She remarks in her Christmas address "Already we hear a new statement of values - even we who are sea-walled from the tumult... There will be a new statement of values in the arts" (December 1914 Vol.5 No.3 31-32) Clearly the influence of events directly pertaining to the American collective would have an insurmountable effect on the content of the magazine. As a mouth piece of the American poet with a large intelligentsia readership it would be a natural leap for the magazine to be more and more shaped by important social issues of the day.

            Monroe also focuses her attention on issues not directly pertaining to the American collective such as the "Servia Epic." Located in the Balkans the "Servian Epic" contains cycles mainly focusing on war -  most notable of which are pre-Kosovo, during Kosovo and post-Kosovo - all of which deal with issues an ocean away from American shores. Pre-dating World War I, Monroe's coverage of the "Servian Epic" illustrates an enduring interest in war and the poetry it produces. By taking the magazine in a direction always closely monitoring world events such as war, Monroe ensures that it is relevant not only because of the poetry but the content itself. She quotes  Mme. Gruitch, an authority on the Serb issue, as saying "There was one thing which the Turk could not take away from the Serb - the heavenly gift of poetry" (March 1913 Vol. 1 No.6 195-198). And as such we come full circle in why poetry and the content it manifests is so important in shaping our culture - an in return also always in need of  strong mentoring. Its influence on society is profound. 

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  "The New Thelema" in Rhythm was an article written by Fredrick Goodyear for the Summer of 1911. This article discussed how the people of that time didnt have much of a voice as far as rights, work or most of their lives in general. Fredrick Goodyear discussed how these people had what was called "Thelema" or a "Thelematic Idea" which was a future dream they hoped for. They wanted men to be able to go out and work as they wished without being demanded or told how or when. This was an age where people didnt have freedom. As stated in the article, in order for them to win the freedom, these people had to also construct and design it.

  The poem "Sic Transit" by Michael T.H. Sadler was a poem about the city of Mantua. Michael Sadler discussed how the city vanished and became a ghost town. All that remained were the buildings that once held important, proud and wealthy people. The "green grass turned blue" and everything seemed to have become depressing. The author ends his poem by stating "and I am left here to mourn mantua". The mood of this poem is sad and depressing as the author expresses the envrionment of this "ghost town" it helps you invision something that once was beautiful to something that had become old and meaningless.

At the heart of The New Age is an agenda based on the principles put
forth by leading luminaries of the time, an agenda that speaks to
the worker classes and the issues sensitive to their place on the
social structure. As we scanned the archives, we became cognizant of
the various divergent opinions and ideas that seemed to permeate the
reviews of performance pieces and books. We also saw divergent
opinions come across in several political essays.

Regarding the drama reviews, we were particularly struck by the often
contradictory statements made by two of the drama critics, L. Haden
Guest and Ashley Dukes. For the most part, both critics panned
theatrical endeavors that seemed sympathetic to the worker classes as
being "melodramatic" or simply devoid of any new ideas that would
promote any kind of sophisticated thinking. We found several examples
where the critics would espouse enthusiastically on dramas rife with
socialist or progressive ideologies, and in the same review, bash a
drama whose premise seemed to be only to elicit emotion or excitement
of feeling. We were hard pressed to find any articles that sought to
bridge understanding between the worker classes and the intellectual
elite as far as their tastes, or lack thereof, for drama as
entertainment.

In one article from Vol. 6, No. 12, for example, Ashley Dukes seems
to, at times, deride the playwrights and theater managers for solely
being interested in profit, even though at times he also admits to
having a material interest in the success of a play by the sheer
number of patrons attending the performances. Dukes slips into the
language of the movement, though, almost as if to reaffirm his loyalty
to the cause. In his review of "Don" (p. 283), he asserts that the
theater is a "resort for idlers, a place of amusement for tired
people....It must be a theater for workers." Dukes, however, means
"brain workers," those he deems "earnest, attentive, and willing to
think."  We found ourselves at odds with Dukes' proposal in that the
theater should aim to court a certain kind of patron. By his proposal,
he is promoting the idea that only those members of a learned class
within society can appreciate the nuances of good theater; doesn't
this very idea fly in the face of the socialist agenda so rife within
the pages of The New Age?

Another review in Vol. 6, No. 10, is critical of the play "Caste". The
reviewer is, again, A. Dukes, and he states that "Caste...is almost a
classic. It represents the highest achievement of English dramatic art
during the third quarter of the 19th century - during the period, that
is to say, when Dickens, Meredith, and Hardy were all at work upon the
English novel, and Swinburne and Tennyson upon English poetry. And now
- who is Robertson? Surely there could be no more vivid illustration
of the decadence of the theater."

Dukes seems to be espousing the merits of a return to the traditional
in theater; but even with this overtly enthusiastic review of
Robertson's "Caste", Dukes manages to cut the drama by saying: "this
world of Caste is utterly unreal.  The types are the types of Dickens,
but the art of Dickens is lacking." Dukes then goes on to compare
Robertson's play to that of a work by Perceval Landon called "The
House Opposite." Again, he inserts an overtly Socialist perspective to
the writing: "There is plenty of realism without reality. We still
have the old Romanticism cropping up, and the old codes of honour. In
effect, the play is nothing but well-oiled melodrama." Further, Dukes
states that the work "dabbles occasionally in ideas, without the
courage or the intellectual honesty to give them fair hearing. A sop
is thrown to the moderns in the discussion of crime, another to the
bourgeoisie in Cardyne's precious code of honour."

To contrast with Dukes, we also looked at several reviews by his
predecessor, L. Haden Guest. His take on drama in an article entitled
"Real Plays and "My Wife" from Vol. 1, No. 6, for example, hints at
his rather anti-capitalist views: "The play is Capitalist art in
excelsis, and the length of run will be a good test of the strength
and vitality of the mirage of capitalism in the realm of ideas. The
play is well acted; it is smart and bright and snappy, the machine
goes clicking away on oiled cogs; it has many advantages; it lacks
only an intelligent scheme of ideas."

In another review for a play entitled "Divorcons", from Vol. 1, No. 9,
Guest insists that the public wants "good plays, and the actor...good
parts...it is fairly clear that present theatrical conditions are
against them. The theater is now in the hands of the commercial
manager, who is compelled to put as his first consideration that of
profit." I was a bit taken aback by Guest's insistence that an actor's
trade union "could only help us in fact by ruining the managers, by
forcing the formation of theatrical trusts, and compelling us to take
the business over in self-defense." Guest seems to be promoting an
anti-unionist agenda here, something that I found to be conspicuously
incongruent with the pro-worker/pro-union tone of the Socialist
movement.

We examined how the reviews of drama were, at times, moulded by the
views of critics intent on promoting the ideology of the Socialist
movement, even as these views were at times contradictory within the
reviews themselves. It is interesting to note how political viewpoints
could, in certain instances, be oppositional within the text of "The
New Age" itself. It is easy to see how this would lead to readers
questioning the direction of the journal and the views it was
espousing as a journal of independent expression.

Regarding the essays on books and politics, we were interested in how
political viewpoints in opposition to socialism were dealt with in the
pages of The New Age.

A book review of The Russian Revolution by Leo Tolstoy is reviewed
in Vol. 1 No. 3. The New Age devotes a full page to a review of the
book, quoting poignant sections of its contents at length. Tolstoy's
argument in his book is to expose what he sees as the evilness of
governments, regardless of makeup, for the ills of nations. He slams
western-style governments in here as well, asking: "Have the Western
nations [...] attained what they strove for? [...] Among all nations .
. .The chief and fundamental calamities from which the people suffer
remain the same: the same ever-increasing, enormous budgets, the same
animosity toward their neighbors, necessitating military preparations
and armies; the same taxes; the same State and private monopolies; the
same depriving the people of the right to use the land (which is given
to private owners); the same enslaving of subject races ; the same
constant threatenings of war; and the same wars, destroying the lives
of men and undermining their morality. . . . .Is the life of the
majority of the people in those (Constitutional) countries more
secure, freer, or, above all, more reasonable and moral? I think not."

These sentiments appear to advocate anarchy or some sort of
libertarianism, and are certainly in direct contrast to socialism, by
which the government owns the means of production and distribution.
Tolstoy goes on to state that the goal of all governments is
self-perpetuation, and that representative government (Is socialism
considered representative government?) leaves itself wide-open to
corruption.

The reviewer criticizes Tolstoy's "readiness to over-simplify" and
uses the age-old argument that people would not know how to solve
disputes without government to counter Tolstoy's points.

What's significant is that the reviewer, Aylmer Maude, disagrees with
Tolstoy, yet still in the introductory paragraph states that the books
is "well worth reading; for it flings down a stimulating challenge to
some of our most deep-rooted convictions." What is also significant is
how much space (a full page) is devoted to a book that hardly espouses
socialism or any type of western-style democracy. It's also
interesting, of course, to read the words of Tolstoy and see how they
could easily ring true today, as westerners have been socially conditioned to
associate democracy with peace, yet in reality this is largely a myth,
as democracy, in the case of the UK and the US, is nearly always
associated with war, imperialism and socioeconomic problems.

It was also interesting to have found two contrasting articles on
socialism. One, "Why I am a Socialist. (Vol. 2 No. 5 and "Why I am not
a Socialist." (Vol. 2 No. 2) Both articles seem to have in mind the
interests of the poor and working classes, yet this is where any
similarity ends. In "Why I am a Socialist." by Arnold Bennet,  he
explains that he is a socialist because he believes it embodies
societal progress, but most importantly because he sees it as the best
way to rid Britain of the governing classes, who he compares to a
"hopeless invalid who won't die." Even today, issues about "royalty"
persist in the UK. It's kind of a strange thing when the faces of
people who don't really do anything appear all over the British money.
In Why I am not a Socialist." the author, G. K. Chesterton things
"sharing" is a silly concept, and espouses more a state in which
people own things, most notably property. Curiously, Chesterton
initially takes a view of the "masses" of society that is seemingly
without patronizing paternalism. He writes that he has faith in the
masses not for their "potentialities" but for the way they are in
actuality. The people don't want socialism, he says. The "whole smell
and sentiment and general ideal of Socialism they detest and disdain,"
he writes. If they could, they would seek to own property just like
the rich, because they want what the rich have, which is certainly not
socialism, but money and property. Chesterton is pro-democracy and
socialism is not in accordance with democracy. But the masses may vote
for socialism anyway, he says, if is is shoved down their throats. His
elitism crops up when he refers to the masses as "vague, slow,
bewildered, and unaccustomed, alas, to civil war." He has faith in
their inclinations against socialism but thinks they may opt for it
anyway under duress, simply because it is too much trouble to resist.

Reading such as those above demonstrate that The New Age was very open
to publishing sentiments that were contrary to the tenets of socialism.

What was perhaps most interesting regarding socialism were the attempts
to persuade and even attack nonbelievers, and this is where the
writing in The New Age seems most effective. The idea one gets from
reading The New Age is that it knows many of its readers don't buy
the whole socialism thing, so it needs to preach to the unconverted,
and it needs to be provocative. One article in particular stands out
in this regard: "The Question of Competition." in Vol. 2 No. 7. The
article points out that the landowners, who are opposed to socialism
on the grounds of lack of competition, are nothing but hypocrites,
collecting, as they do, rents and interest all the while sitting on
their butts! The author Cecil Chesterton, goes on to point out that
there is intense competition among the working classes, but is a
sordid scramble for a "bare and base living."  The author notes that
"It is curious, by the way, to note that the very people who declare
unlimited competition to be the one panacea for the race are always
ready to dwell on the moral, mental, and physical incapacities of the
class in which competition is most rampant and ruthless." The essay
posits that socialism will not eradicate all competition, but only the
struggle for a bare subsistence, and bring about equality of
opportunity. Essays like this one indicate that The New Age was under
pressure to explain how socialism works and not to assume that
everyone reading the publication was a convert to it.

Maribel Vega
Julie Ostrowski

Literary criticism in The New Age was apparently quite paradoxical, simultaneously bearing traces of predictability and spontaneity. In support of such a bold statement from non-experts on Modernist writing, this piece examines the “Book of the Week” and “Book Notes” sections in the first five editions of The New Age, Volume One and Issues 24-26 of Volume 30. With regards to the aforementioned predictability, examinations of the following reviews and notes demonstrate that as radical as their writers professed themselves to be, they maintained some consistency. After the first two book reviews, one almost comes to expect panegyrics or denunciations based on the book’s treatment of social conditions that the writers and their readership deemed key. Frequently, the reviews and notes place minor emphasis on the actual text and appear interested only in those aspects of the text that concern themselves with the general British welfare (from a Socialist perspective). Additionally, the aforementioned reviews in The New Age unfailingly elicit multi-vocal responses. Each piece could logically receive responses to the book reviewed; the reviewer; the author of the text; society in general; or even to the addressed social condition itself. Lastly, the book reviews and notes evidence a continual discourse between society and the literary art it produced (or that produced it, as some would undoubtedly argue). This last claim will be addressed as the articles are examined in detail

The “Book of the Week” column of Issue No.1 is clearly much more than a book review. In it, Holbrook Jackson includes lots of extraneous information that though ends up being relevant, evidences the need for readers of The New Age to be well versed in the literary and historical happenings of the time. Though the review gives a very precise synopsis of “The Playboy of the Western World,” it nonetheless teems with allusions to the social compositions of England and Ireland and ends didactically with regards to the betterment of the nations’ social conditions. In support of the notion that the magazine’s literary critiques maintained the discourse between early 20th century English art and society is the “Book Notes” column of Issue No.1 in its recommendation of Oscar Wilde’s “Souls of Man Under Socialism.” Here, social conditions determine the topics that the writers address and those same topics in effect go to determine what society read, wrote, and no doubt talked about.

Issue No.2’s “Book of the Week” column exemplified the spontaneity this paper earlier accused The New Age of possessing. Unlike the detailed synopsis given in Issue No.1, only five sentences directly address the book being reviewed: Ramsay McDonald’s Labour and the Empire. The remainder of the review, however, remains consistent with that of Issue No.1 in its excessive treatment of aspects of Imperialism and local British history and sociopolitical culture. The “Book Note” for Issue No.2 is also in keeping with its Issue No.1 counterpart in that it recommends texts either related to Socialism, “modern commerce,” or the Fabian Society, important facets of early 20th c. Britain. The “Book of the Week” column of Issue No. 3 is both similar to and different from the previous two in that it addresses social concerns whilst paying almost equal attention to Tolstoy’s The Russian Revolution. This review actively engages in dialogue with the text, presenting direct excerpts that allow the reader to clearly see the bases of the reviewer’s arguments. The “Book Note” for this issue does nothing unique save that it blends professional mention with character dissection in its recommendation of G.K. Chesterton. Rather than solely mentioning Chesterton’s authorial endeavors, the column seeks to present personal aspects of the man in encouragement of book sales on his behalf.

The “Book of the Week” columns for both Issues No. 4 and 5 go to further evidence the claim that such reviews served as platforms for more than just book discussions. Issue No. 4’s review is a tirade on the absence of and dire need for amiability in Socialism/between professed Socialists (it is not completely clear for which it argues). It alludes to the book, An Anthology of Friendship, only twice: to compliment the editor on his precision and to concur with his notion of the role of friendship.   The “Book Notes” for the same Issue maintains the columnist’s noted habit of recognizing texts that primarily address issues of then contemporary concern, namely “the social system;” “the social and architectural features of the American metropolis;” and “social questions.”   The “Book of the Week” article for Issue No.5, though it shows pertinence between the text, A History of Factory Legislation, and aspects of society such as “Royal Commissions, Cabinet Councils…factory legislation” and the like, is again used to intensely address social conditions. Indeed, the reviewer admits to recommending the book because it is “the story of a national drama.” The same Issue’s “Book Notes” is the only of the five examined that maintains an equilibrium between allusions to British society and recommendations of texts.

Volume 30 Issues 24-26 of The New Age possess clear similarities between those in the first volume. However, there exist marked differences. Although the authors of the drama and book reviews seem to similarly relish describing the bad performances and “worst books ever,” the articles stay on topic.   Whereas the earlier issues maintain an informal, prescriptive dialogue with the reader, the last few editions reveal a more formal tone. Additionally, with respect to thematic appeal, Socialism as a panacea for the ills of early 20th c. England/Europe ceases to reign as a primary motivation for the literary criticism of The New Age. However, there are other differences in later issues that reveal both a growing awareness of who literary critics were, what their job was, and who exactly they were speaking to. Perhaps we can find roots of the field of modern day literary criticism in this magazine.

In Volume 30 Issue 22, Ezra Pound, in his essay “Credit and the Fine Arts,” reveals the artist stepping out of his boundaries to discusses how literature in general is perceived; the unfortunate truth that “the worst work usually brings the greatest financial reward” (p 4). However, as Pound bemoans the problems and difficulties in gaining prestige and being published as a writer, his article begins to bear remarkable resemblance to a modern day graduate student seeking a fellowship. Whereas earlier issues would have faulted society, Pound clearly directs his essay to those within his coterie. In discussing T.S. Elliot’s sojourn to banking, he writes: “rightly or wrongly, some of us consider Eliot’s employment in a bank the worst waste in contemporary literature” (p 4).

Although outside the realm of literary criticism, another column in this issue, “The Notebooks of T.E. Hulme,” commences with the claim that “the great difficulty of any talk of art lies in the extreme indefiniteness of the vocabulary you are obliged to employ.” There is a recognition here that academes are needed, a growing awareness of the task of the critic and his responsibility to whom he speaks. According to Hulme, the role of an art critic seemed more defined than the role of the literary critic. Perhaps another logical claim might be that The New Age, in melding art criticism side-by-side with reviews of drama and books, provided the forum for the development of the academic arena.

In Volume 30 Issue 23, an article entitled “Our Generation” discusses the “The National Institute of Industrial Psychology,” which is described as a sort of government inspection group for factories. The article begins by decrying the Institute’s mode of inspection, but presents a marked shift when the author suddenly starts discussing taste, literature, and how England lags behind because of the excitement and interest of the Industrial Revolution: “If England lost her lead in this industry, he predicted that her literature would soon be a second-class literature” (p 6). In referencing the need for regimented moderation of the Psychology industry, the article makes a dramatic turn and calls for similar strictures to be placed around the literary arts. It is not illogical to assume that such outcries and professional demands might have laid the foundation for the present-day notion of academic circles and faculties.

In the column “The Notebook’s of T.E. Hulmes,” there is a continuation of the desire to define standards by which art can be measured. In discussing Bergson’s essays, Hulme makes a clear distinction between the casual art appreciator and the professional art critic: “Both these things are of very little advantage as far as actual art criticism is concerned, but they are distinct advantages to anyone who wants to place art directly in relation to other human activities” (p 7). It seems that Hulme expects laymen to read his own article differently than critics. Whereas earlier articles did not seem to differentiate between their audiences, it is clear that there later arises a call for distinctions in The New Age readership. Additionally, in Volume 30 Issue 24, in a review of Nietzsche, Janko Lavrin doesn’t merely review Nietzsche, but seeks to explain it and uncover his sources and religious views. He quotes passages of Nietzsche to prove his point, and his tone is investigative rather than prescriptive, a clear distinction between the earlier and latter phases of the magazine.

       Tanya Palmer and Rachel Borg            

 Charlene Nicholson, Cecilia Robles, Miriam L. Wallach

 

“I used to think there must be a kind of prearranged consensus among musical critics; that is to say, that with advertisements to consider, and the public always paying to be flattered, the ordinary newspaper critic had to be a consistent professional liar. It appears, however, that he has still considerable scope wherein to vent his genuine opinions, his little personal prejudices, his little spites, and his little enthusiasms, and that he may really lie as much as he likes, or flatter as much – within the “policy” of his paper.” – Herbert Hughes, “The Jury Disagreed”, The New Age, Volume 4, Number 26

 

The development of British music in Modern times was of great interest to a group of writers who consistently contributed to the New Age. Whether their contributions were through the regularly published “Music”, “Music and Musicians”and “Recent Music”columns or of articles that were used in the body of the journal, much of the writing was concerned with criticism of the composers, the audience, and the quality of the performed music, both in performance and quality of composition. The general tone of the writing concerning music during the time in which Orage was editor, from 1907 to 1922, was highly acerbic and critical.

 

In a cross-sampling of articles and reviews concerning music, a few common threads emerged. Many came from the writings of Herbert Hughes, who began under the pseudo name “X”. He was the primary contributor to music reviews and pieces of music criticism from 1907 through 1911, covering the first nine volumes of the periodical. His sentiments, however, were echoed in the contributions of other contributors as well.   Hughes seemed to set the tone for music criticism in The New Age during the time that A.R. Orage was editor of the publication

 

One concern was the quality of music that was being produced by the British composers of the time. In an article entitled, “Nationality in British Music”, Hughes begins with a scathing overview of the British School of musical art which he feels is lacking in “divine fire” (N.A. 1:9, 134). He criticizes modern British composers, in which he includes those from Wales, Scotland, and Ireland, for having a lack of sentiment and personal expression. Hughes firmly believes that great art can never be impersonal and that this is the greatest flaw in the music of the United Kingdom.

 

The only composer that seems to escape his wrath is Edward Elgar, known for his composition of military marches. He feels that Elgar delves into his true self through his compositions, which Hughes considers to be nationalistic. He believes that the nationalism shown through Elgar’s music is the path that all British composers should be taking. This belief of the importance of nationality corresponds with the build up of this sentiment in Europe prior to World War I. Hughes’s goal for British composers is for them to create a controlled individualism so that they will be able to create a well-ordered and truly musical nationhood, which will “voice the best characteristics, the best traditions, the best thoughts, and the best feelings of the English race” (135).

 

Ironically, one of Hughes’s greatest complaints about British composers is their use of folk tunes in orchestration. He claims that this is a weakness, and indication of a composer’s inability to create original music. He finds the use of folk tunes highly offensive and not nationalistic. Hughes believes that “Nationality in art can only be attained when the utterance itself is the expression of a sincere individualism, regardless of idiom and obvious other characteristics.” (134). This perspective seems to belie the idea of nationality in that it encourages individuality rather than unification of the masses, which could be accomplished by pride for heritage through the use of folk tunes.

 

At some level, Hughes’s view of folk music as base, gives the impression of classism. This was another thread that seemed to appear in the music writing of The New Age during this time. In a contribution by Arthur Rickett entitled “Musicfor the People,” a dialogue between three gentlemen is created as a way to show that the appreciation of “great” music is beyond the means of the lower class. Through the dialogue, Ricketts creates a sense of elitism and the uselessness of trying to “educate” the masses on musical appreciation in that they are not capable of distinguishing between what is quality music and music that just has mass appeal. In the end, after the gentleman eavesdrop on the conversations of the serving and lower class, there is a sense of defeat, “Smith (looking self-satisfied): What did I tell you? Now, old chap, I know you’ll drop that educational bunkum., Dodson: At any rate, they knew what they ought to like” (158).

 

This criticism of the audience is one that is reflected in the weekly music columns such as “Recent Music” and “Music” that reviewed performances. Often, the critic is focused not just on the quality of the performance, but as to how the audience reacted to it. Often the audience’s reaction to a piece of music is qualified as “deafening” and “indiscriminate” (N.A. 9:20, 468). Overall, the reader gets the sense that most audiences, particularly those made up of the lower class, are void in the ability to appreciate music. It is up to the music critics to set the masses straight on the quality of music and the performance of said music.

 

These threads, or themes, carried through to other editions of The New Age. In Vol. 20, No. 8, Bernard Gilbert writes his own fictitious dialogue in “Where is Music?” in which two characters, William and Henry, bemoans the state of music in London. Henry, having recently moved to London from a rural area, is “disgusted” and “more than disappointed” in the music that he has found in the city. He takes great offense with the way in which people interact with and enjoy music – not as participants, but as spectators. While he was attending Glee Clubs and seeing the finest operas, Henry likens those who watch music taking place to “spectators who watch others play football, deceiving themselves all the while.” He mentions that the performers are the only “honest folk” and that “music is a personal matter – a thing to be done.”

 

The criticism that evolves here is not of the quality of the music, for Henry claims to have seen only the finest performances. It is the actual experience and the way in which high society interacts with this art that Gilbert finds most offensive.   Through Henry, Gilbert applauds the intimate and one-on-one interaction the appreciator of music has with the art (like Henry and William seem to have done in their rural community) and is offended by those who treat it like a spectator sport. One cannot assume that because Henry and William come from rural areas that they are necessarily of a lower class. That would then cause a ‘splitting of the thread,’ so to speak, as it would seem that Gilbert is actually applauding the lower class for it’s personal and apparently appropriate relationship with music while criticizing the upper class, thus breaking the trend to criticize the lower class. Gilbert avoids that potential pothole by leaving Henry and William’s class status deliberately vague and merely stating their geographic backgrounds. Interestingly enough, however, the criticism of the classes in The New Age seems, therefore, to extend to the upper class as well, criticizing its members for their removed and distanced approach to what should be a hands-on and intimate experience with an art form.

 

Further research through issues of The New Age also shows a continuation of the harsh and often acerbic criticism of Modernist music in England during this era. Philip Heseltine’s article entitled “The Condition of Music in England”, in Vol. 21, no. 7, critically reviews the composers of his time, pulling no punches and mincing no words. Even the title of his article, using the word “condition” instead of ‘status’ or ‘situation’ implies some kind of malady or illness worthy of an update. Heseltine remarks that when considering the most influential composes of his time, all of who are renowned and whose music lives on today, their music is superficial and lacks depth. To produce music from the soul, past the materialistic aspects of the art, is beyond their ability. “As for the moderns,” he writes,” they seem, with very few exceptions, to be wandering in a mist, oblivious alike of their destination and of their purpose of journeying.” Their works are unguided, have no shape, lack depth and are even compared to an inferior bottle of scotch. Heseltine does, however, seem to provide a disclaimer for his article, ending with the idea that the era of Modern music in England is still very young and should only be considered in its adolescent stage of life. Nevertheless, his biting criticism of English music continues the thread that has already been sown.

Continuing with this notion of music being in a state of immaturity, William Atheling, in a piece entitled “Music The Avoidable” calls for a greater uniformity and structure to English music (N.A 23:19). A rubric or criterion of sorts needs to be created by which one can determine what is and is not good music and by which musicians can develop their art with greater skill and accuracy, alluding to music being in a state of growth and confusion, e.g., adolescence. Although it is a short article, Atheling’s frustration at the lack of quality music is readily apparent and continues the already established sentiment within the journal. In contrast, however, Atheling is able to specifically articulate where music and Modern composers are going wrong, hence the aggravation. If a problem can be identified and solutions are provided, one should seemingly be able to make the necessary corrections, perchance they are not made and mediocrity continues to be produced. As such, his frustration is understandable and even more so, is consistent with previous sentiments.

 

There is a decided thrust for a change in the way artists view one another whether they are from the same country or not. According to the critic writing as H. R., “Music cannot be limited by geography or “schools”. The standard of excellence in music cannot be static; music is a fluid art and does not possess “eternal verities” (29:14, p 165). Unlike Atheling, H.R seems to be saying that excellent music cannot be subjected to a specific rubric since an artist may create a piece of music which is great but doesn’t comply with the rubric. Music is always changing in form and style and its effect on people will never be the same. He points to the fact that composers during his time were improving on what others did before them and the wheel of change continues.

 

 

Not only are the artists being criticized but the audience also. H. Rotham states, “There are two sorts of concert audiences; the audience which goes to listen to a performer, qua performer, no matter what music he or she may offer; and the audience which goes to listen to music, and has opinions on what is worth listening to” (N.A 30:21, p276). Though well attended, the majority of the audience is there as spectators. They have no interest in the music as an art form but as a source of entertainment. Such an audience may lead the performer into a false sense of security and his chance of becoming great may not be realized. The audience with opinions is important for without their critique the performer will not get a critique which will help him sharpen his skills. Both audiences are necessary for one helps the artist to seek to continually improve his efforts and the other supports him with their money and praises.

 

The critics do not escape criticism either. They receive the same harsh criticism, which they like to give. William Atheling in his article “Le Mariage De Figaro” blames the critics for not doing their job well and as a result artists and musicians are out of work and the opera closed off early. He reminds us of the prevailing crisis at the time, the war, but he also refuses to place the blame for the artists and musicians plight on the war. He believes that if the critics were presenting the works of these people to the public and there was much dialogue between critics then the public would have been adequately informed and they would have given their support. At that time the public was supporting those involved in “basket-work, peasant- industry, and dilettante pottery”(N.A. 22:10, p114). Atheling sums up by saying, “This is rather a serious indictment of the London public and of the London musical critics. It means either that the critics are stupid and have not urged the audience, or else that they have ruined their credit with the public by a long period of weak criticism, and are no longer believed” (113). The job of the critics is significant and that’s why so many criticisms permeate the pages of The New Age.

 

Within the numerous journals, the sentiment and trends set in the first issue clearly resonate through others. Ironic, however, is that each piece, opinions and attitudes included, seems to be weakly supported by proofs or documentation, if they have any support at all. A venerable “soap box,” The New Age presented a forum through which writers and cultural authorities could expound upon and discuss numerous issues that prevailed in society. By bringing matters to the forefront and into discussion, the opportunity was established for grievances and ills regarding issues in culture, specifically as per this discussion in music, to be discussed in hopes of rectifying the situation and producing a better and more consistent art, one more befitting England. Whether the criticisms were heard and used constructively by the artists is not part of the scope of this research. However, within the fifteen years sampled within this study and the growing frustration which seemed to intensify through the issues, one can be certain that the critics voices were loud, but not necessarily heard. 

 

Modern Era Composers http://library.thinkquest.org/27110/noframes/composers/browsemodern.html

Excerpts of well known works from Modern Era Composers

Eward Elgar - Pomp and Circumstance Op. 34, March No. 4 in G

Ralph Vaughan Williams - Fantasia on a Theme of Thomas Tallis

Jean Siebelius - Valse Triste

Gustav Mahler - Adagietto, Symphony No. 5 in C-Sharp Minor

Igor Stravinsky -Rite of Spring

Dmitri Shostakovish - Allegretto, Symphony No. 1, Op. 10