Spring 1923 THE LITTLE REVIEW QUARTERLY JOURNAL OF ART AND LETTERS SUBSCRIPTION YEARLY $4.00 £1 FOREIGN SINGLE NUMBER $1.00 ADMINISTRATION Margaret ANDERSON jh Ezra POUND address: 27 west eighth street, new york english office: egoist publishing co., 23 adelphi terrace house, robert street, london w. c. 2. Entered as second class matter October 2d, 1921, at the post office at new york, a. y., under the act of march 3, 1879. CONTENTS 7 Reproductions of the work of Fernand Léger In Our Time Ernest Hemingway Idem The Same—A Valentine to Sherwood Anderson Gertrude Stein Bundles for Them Gertrude Stein Anglo-Mongrels And The Rose Mina Loy Airplane Sonata (Section 3) George Antheil They All Made Peace—What Is Peace? Ernest Hemingway Poems E.E. Cummings Comments j.h. At Croton H.D. Ornament from "Le Grand Ecart,” by Jean Cocteau 4 Reproductions of the work of Joan Miro What Is Left Undone Robert McAlmon Design Dorothy Shakespear The Esthetics of the Machine Fernand Léger The Reader Critic ------------- ON SALE ALL FIRST CLASS BOOK STORES F.B NEUMAYER, 70 CHARING CROSS ROAD LONDON SHAKESPEARE AND COMPANY : PARIS VIe VOL. IX. NO. 3 IN OUR TIME EVERYBODY was drunk. The whole battery was drunk along the road in the dark. We were going to the Champagne. The lieutenant kept riding his horse out into the fields and saying to him, “I’m drunk I tell you, mon vieux. Oh I am so soused.” We went along the road all night in the dark and the adjutant kept riding up alongside my kitchen and saying, “You must put it out. It, is dangerous. It will be observed.” We were fifty kilometers from the front but the adjutant worried about the fire in my kitchen. It was funny going along that road. That was when I was a kitchen corporal. * * * The first matador got the horn through his sword hand and the crowd hooted him on his way to the infirmary. The second matador slipped and the bull caught him through the belly and he hung onto the horn with one hand and held the other tight against the place, and the bull rammed him wham against the barrera and the horn came and he lay in the sand; and then got up like crazy drunk and tried to slug the men carrying him away and yelled for a new sword, but he fainted. The kid came, out and had to kill five bulls because you can’t have more than three matadors and the last bull he was so tired he couldn’t get the sword in. He couldn’t hardly lift his arm. He tried eight times and the crowd was quiet because it was a good bull and it looked like him or the bull and then he finally made it. He sat down in the sand and puked and they held a cape over him while the crowd come down the barrera into the bull ring. * * * Minarets stuck up in the rain out of Adrianople across the mud flats. The carts were jammed for thirty miles along the Karagatch road. Water buffalo and cattle were hauling carts through the mud. No end and no beginning. Just carts loaded with everything they owned. The old men and women, soaked through, walked along keeping the cattle moving. The Maritza was running yellow almost up to the bridge. Carts were jammed solid on the bridge with camels bobbing along through them. Greek cavalry rode hard on the procession. Women and kids were in the carts crouched with mattresses, mirrors, sewing machines, bundles, sacks of things. There was a woman having a kid with a young girl holding a blanket over her and crying. Scared sick looking at it. It rained all through the evacuation. * * * We were in a garden at Mons. Young Buckley came in with his patrol from across the river. The first german I saw climbed up over the garden wall. We waited till he got one leg over and then potted him. He had so much equipment on and looked awfully surprised and fell down into the garden. Then three more came over further down the wall. We shot them. They all came just like that. * * * MONS (Two) It was a frightfully hot day. We’d jammed an absolutely perfect barricade across the bridge. It was simply priceless. A big old wrought iron grating from the front of a house. Too heavy to lift and you could shoot through it and they would have to climb over it. It was absolutely topping. They tried to get over it and we potted them from forty yards. They rushed it and officers came out alone and worked on it. It was an absolutely perfect obstacle. Their officers were very fine. We were frightfully put out when we heard the flank had gone and we had to fall back. * * * They shot the six cabinet ministers at half past six in the morning against the wall of a hospital. There were pools of water in the courtyard. There were wet dead leaves on the paving of the courtyard. It rained hard. All the shutters of the hospital were nailed shut. One of the ministers was sick with typhoid. Two soldiers carried him downstairs and out into the rain. They tried to hold him up against the wall but he sat down in a puddle of water. The other five stood very quietly against the wall. Finally the officer told the soldiers it was no good trying to make him stand up. When they fired the first volley he was sitting down in the water with his head on his knees. ERNEST HEMINGWAY THEY ALL MADE PEACE-
WHAT IS PEACE? ALL of the turks are gentlemen and Ismet Pasha is a little deaf. But the Armenians. How about the Armenians? Well the Armenians. Lord Curzon likes young boys. So does Chicherin. So does Mustapha Kemal. He is good looking too. His eyes are too close together but he makes war. That is the way he is. Lord Curzon does not love Chicherin. Not at all. His beard trickles and his hands are cold. He thinks all the time. Lord Curzon thinks top. But he is much taller and -goes to St. Moritz. Mr. Child does not wear a hat. Baron Hayashi gets in and out of the automobile. Monsieur Barrère gets telegrams. So does Marquis Garroni. His telegrams come on motorcycles from MUSSOLINI. MUSSOLINI has nigger eyes and a bodyguard and has his picture taken reading a book upside down. MUSSOLINI is wonderful. Read the Daily Mail. I used to know Mussolini. Nobody like’d him then. Even I didn’t like him. He was a bad character. Ask Monsieur Barrère. We all drink cocktails. Is it too early to have a cocktail? How about a drink George? Come on and we’ll have a cocktail Admiral. Just time before lunch. Well what if we do? Not too dry. Well what do you boys know this morning? Oh they’re shrewd. They’re shrewd. M. Stambuliski walks up the hill and down the hill. Don’t talk about M. Venizelos. He is wicked. You can see it. His beard shows it. Mr. Child is not wicked. Mrs. Child has flat breasts and Mr. Child is an idealist and wrote Harding’s campaign speeches and calls Senator Beveridge Al. You know me Al. Lincoln Steffens is with Child. The big C. makes the joke easy. Then there is Mosul And the Greek Patriarch What about the Greek Patriarch? ERNEST HEMINGWAY