56
PARTJSAN REVIEW
ous disappointment of a writer whose work had elicited suggestions, when
we returned to him a check that he had thought might be "ueed for a
reckless meal."
Misunderstandings were with us in most instances, like scepticism
that "doubts in order to believe"; and anything in the way of ill-wishing
fulminations was constantly neutralized by over-justice from other quar·
ters; by such stringence against encroachment, as Raymond Mortimer's
when he wondered
if
certain requested work might not be done more to
our liking by someone else; and by his patience when
Dial
work of his
was reprinted without his permission; by Gilbert Seldes' magnanimity
toward a minor phase of collaboration, and L. A. G. Strong's willingness
to believe that editorial crotchets are not all of the devil; by Yvor Winters'
probity of resistance and tincture of editorial virus; by such quixotry as
Professor Saintsbury's when hesitating to incorporate in an article on Poe,
material that Andrew Lang had not published,-saying once an article had
been declined, he did not care to offer it "to the most different of editors'';
by Professor Charles Sears Baldwin's acquiescent addendum in
om~tting
a
touch of underlining humor, "You are not only good friends but good
critics."
To some contributors-- as to some non-co:r.tributors-The
Dial,
and I
in particular, may have seemed quarrelsome, and it is regrettable that
manners should be subordinated to matter. Mishaps and anomalies, how·
ever, but served to emphasize for me the untoxic positiveness of most
writers. And today, previous victims of mine have to dread from me, as
preempting the privilege of the last word, nothing more than solicitude
that all of us may write better.
I think of Mr. McBride-his punctuality and his punctuation, each
comma placed with unaccidental permanence, and the comfortable equa–
bility of his pitiless ultimatums. One does not lose that sense of "creeping
up on the French," of music, of poetry, of ficti m1 , of society sparkle, that
came with his visits to the office. He did not "specialize in frights," nor
in
defamation, nor nurse grudges; and too reverent to speak in rd igious
accents often, could
not
trust himself to mere than refer to personal
losses, sentiment with him was so real.
Gaston Lachaise's stubbornness and naturalness were a work of art
above even the most important sculpture. Admitting to an undiminishing
sense of burden that made frivolities or time-killings a sort of poison to
him, he was as deliberate as if a potion had put him under a spell. I
remember his saying with almost primitive-tribal moroseness, "But I
believe in a large amount of work"; as on another occasion, "Cats. I could
learn a million of things from cats." And there was,
when
there was, E.
E.
Cummings, the really successful avoider of compromise, of scarecrow
insincerity, of ordinary rubber-stamp hundred percent deadness.
I think of Charles Sheeler coping with the difficulties of
photo~raph·
ing for reproduction, Lachaise's polished brass head of Scofield Thayer,
mounted on glass,-glitteringly complicated from any angle-and have
