The Forerunner Part 9

For any criticism to have value it must rest clearly and honestly upon a definite point of view.

"The Toad beneath the harrow knows Exactly where each tooth point goes.

The b.u.t.terfly upon the road Preaches contentment to that Toad."

If one elects, for instance, to criticize an ill.u.s.tration in particular--or a particular ill.u.s.tration--or the present status of popular ill.u.s.tration in general--the position of the critic must be frankly chosen and firmly held. If it is that of the technician, either the original artist or the reproducer or even the publisher, then a given picture in a magazine may be discussed merely as a picture, as a half-tone, or as a page effect, intelligently and competently. If the purely aesthetic viewpoint is chosen, all the above considerations may be waived and the given picture judged as frankly ugly, or as beautiful, quite apart from its technique. If, again, the base of judgment is that of the reader, in whose eyes an ill.u.s.tration should ill.u.s.trate--i.e., give light, make clear the meaning of the text--then we look at a given picture to see if it carries out the ideas expressed in the tale or article, and value it by that.

On this base also stands the author, only one person, to be sure, as compared with the mult.i.tude of readers, but not a dog, for all that.

The author, foaming at the mouth, remote and helpless, here makes common ground with the reader and expects an ill.u.s.tration to ill.u.s.trate.

Perhaps, we should say, "the intelligent reader"--leaving out such as the young lady in the tale, who said they might read her anything, "if it was ill.u.s.trated by Christie."*

[*--This does not by any means deny intelligence to all appreciators of Mr. Christie's work, but merely to such as select literature for the pictures attached.]

THE FORERUNNER believes that it may voice the feelings of many writers and more readers; almost all readers, in fact, if it here and now records a protest against an all too frequent ill.u.s.trative sin: where the gentleman, or lady, who is engaged and paid to ill.u.s.trate a story, prefers to insert pictures of varying attractiveness which bear no relation to the text. This is not ill.u.s.tration. It is not even honest business. It does not deliver the goods paid for. It takes advantage of author, publisher and public, and foists upon them all an art exhibition which was not ordered.

To select a recent popular, easily obtainable, instance of vice and virtue in ill.u.s.tration, let us take up the "American Magazine" for August. Excellent work among the advertis.e.m.e.nts--there the artist is compelled to "follow copy"; his employer will take no nonsense. That's one reason why people like to look at them--the pictures are intelligible. Admirable pictures by Worth Brehm to Stewart White's story--perfect. You see the people, Mr. White's people, see them on the page as you saw them in your mind, and better. Good drawing, and _personal character_--those special people and not others. The insight and appreciation shown in the frontispiece alone makes as fine an instance of what ill.u.s.tration ought to be as need be given.

Those light sketches to the airy G. G. Letters are good, too--anything more definite would not belong to that couple.

But Mr. Cyrus Cuneo shows small grasp of what Mr. Locke was writing about in his "Moonlight Effect." The tailpiece, by somebody else, is the best picture of the lot.

Mr. Leone Brackner does better in Jack London's story, though falling far short of the extreme loathsomeness Mr. London heaps so thickly. J.

Scott Williams follows "Margherita's Soul" with a running accompaniment and variations, in pleasant accord with the spirit of that compelling tale. He gives more than the scene represented, gives it differently, and yet gives it.

Mr. McCutcheon and George Fitch are also harmonious in clever fooling of pen and pencil, and Thomas Fogarty, though by no means convincing, goes well enough with Mr. O'Higgins' story, which is not convincing, either.

The hat and dress pictures are photographs, and do artificial justice to their artificial subjects in Mrs. Woodrow's arraignment of the Fantastic Feminine.

But--. Go to your library after, or send your ten cents for, or look up on your own shelves, that August number, and turn to Lincoln Colcord's story of "Anjer," to see what an ill.u.s.trator dare do. Here's a story, the merits of which need not be discussed, but in which great stress is laid on a certain Malay Princess, the free n.o.bility of whose savage love healed the sick heart of an exhausted man. "I saw how beautiful she was," says the narrator: "her breast was bare in a long slit, and shadowed like the face of the pool." "The most glorious native woman of the East I've ever seen." "She walked like a tiger, with a crouching step of absolute grace." "Her eyes called as if they'd spoken words of love: the beauty of her face was beyond speech--almost beyond thought."

Thus Mr. Colcord.

And how Mr. Townshend? It is on Page 334, Mr. Townshend's "ill.u.s.tration." ("Whit way do we ca' it the Zoo?" "If it wasna' ca'd the Zoo, what would we ca' it?") A bit of railing and a pillar is the only concession to the scene described; that and the fact that there is a man and a woman there. One more detail is granted--a forehead ornament, as alleged. For the rest?

Since the picture is so unjust to the words of the author, can the words of the critic do any justice to the picture? The man will do, as well one man as another, apparently. The big blob of an object that seems to have been suggested by a Gargantuan ginger jar, and to be put in for tropical effect, as also a set of wooden bananas, may be forgiven.

But the Princess--the tigress--the free, graceful, pa.s.sionate woman--the beauty beyond speech. Look at it.

A crooked, crouching, awkward negroid type, a dress of absurd volume and impossible outlines, the upper part a swathed bath towel, one stiff, ugly arm hung helpless, one lifted and ending in a _hoof,_ a plain pig's hoof; the head bent, chin sunk on chest like a hunchback's; and the face--! One could forgive the gross, unusual ugliness; but why no hint of interest in her lover? Why this expression as of a third generation London pauper in a hospital? What explanation is there of this meagre, morbid, deformed female in the midst of that story?

Frank incapacity on the part of an artist is possible. To try and try and try again and utterly fail is possible. To write to the author and say, "I cannot visualize your character, or express it, and must decline to undertake the order," or to the editor and refuse the job, is possible. But to take the order, to read the story (if he did read it), to send in and accept pay for a picture like that--"Whit way would ye ca' it?"

PERSONAL PROBLEMS

A pa.s.sionate interest is shown by many persons in consulting anonymous advisers through the columns of various publications. Their inquiries are mainly as to small matters of etiquette, and the care of the complexion.

In one of the current women's papers we find such questions as these: "When one is introduced, how does one acknowledge the introduction?

Must it be by a mention of the weather? How should one receive a small gift?" (x) All these by one breathless inquirer.

Another asks pathetically: "Will you tell me how soon after a husband's death it is permitted to a widow to return formal calls? What is the present form of visiting cards for a widow?" (y)

Another rudderless ship, in a somewhat less recent issue of a very popular woman's paper, writes: "I am wearing mourning. In the hot weather I find the veil very heavy and close, and wish to throw it back.

What shall I do?" (z)

These are apparently bona fide questions, but in most cases they are answered in a style too palpably oracular. If the questioners are genuine and want help they get precious little. If it is merely a game, it seems rather a flat one. But the popularity of the pastime continues.

The Forerunner will give no answers to foolish questions; unless at peril of the asker. But to sincere inquirers, who are interested in some moot point of conduct, some balance of conflicting duties, honest attention will be given, and their questions answered as sincerely.

The intention is to promote discussion of the real problems of life, and to apply to them the new standards afforded by the larger knowledge and deeper religious sense of to-day.

If any of the above questions were sent to this office they would be thus dismissed:

(x) Read "How To Do It," by E. E. Hale. Learn to be sincere; have real feelings and express them honestly.

(y) If you are truly prostrated by grief you cannot return calls. If you are able--and like to do it--what are you afraid of? Whose "permission" are you asking? See answer to x.

(z) Mourning is a relic of barbarism, kept up by women because of their r.e.t.a.r.ded social development. But if you must wear a heavy veil and wish to throw it back--why don't you?

These persons would be displeased and not write again. Truly. Such questions are not wanted by The Forerunner. They would discontinue their subscription. Doubtless. But this is a waste of anxiety, for such would never have subscribed for The Forerunner in the first place.

Suppose, however, that a question like this is sent in:

"I am a girl of twenty. My mother is an invalid. My father is in business difficulties. They want me to marry an old friend of father's--a good man, but forty years older then I am. Is it my duty to marry him--for their sake?" (B)

Answer. (B) Marriage is not an inst.i.tution for the support of parents, or the settling of business difficulties. If you loved that old man you would not be asking advice. To marry a man you do not love is immoral.

Marriage is to serve the best interests of children and to give happiness to the contracting parties. If your parents need your financial aid go to work and give them your earnings, but do not make a business of matrimony.

Or again: Query. "My mother is a widow living on a moderate income.

She has two married children, but does not like to live with them. I am a college graduate and wish to work at a profession. She says it is not necessary for me to work, and wants me to live with her--says she needs me, claims my filial duty. Is this right?" (F)

Answer. (F) No, it is dead wrong. Parental duty is a natural obligation--not a loan. Filial duty is the same from son and daughter.

You owe your mother care and service if needed, just as your brother would. She has no more right to prevent your going to work than if you were a son. By all means live with her if you both like it, but live your own life. You have a duty of citizenship as well as of daughtership.

Or again: Query. "My wife is spending more of my income on dress than I can afford. How can I stop her?" (G)

There is not room to answer this in this issue.

THANKSONG

Thankful are we for life And the joy of living.

Baby-pleasure of taking; Mother-glory of giving.