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Updated: June 25, 2025
"Here then, at least," I shrieked aloud, "can I never can I never be mistaken these are the full, and the black, and the wild eyes of my lost love of the Lady of the LADY LIGEIA." The Haunted Orchard From Harper's Magazine, January, 1912. By permission of Harper and Brothers and Richard Le Gallienne. Spring was once more in the world.
And all this has the inevitable effect of making it easy for the ordinary man to forget his fears and throw himself like a hero into the stress and strain of combat. Even those who hate war the worst and are therefore subject the least to its artificial glamor are swept away in spite of themselves. Richard Le Gallienne has written of this very experience in his famous poem, The Illusion of War.
Gilfoyle tried with his shaving-glass and the bureau mirror to study the profile that someone else had compared to the cameonic visage of Richard Le Gallienne. Gilfoyle was gloriously ashamed of himself. In the voice that someone else had compared to Charlie Towne's reading his own verses he addressed his reflection with scorn: "You heartless dog!
It is sometimes a warning, though the warning is often too late. But its function is immensely overrated by Mr. Le Gallienne and other religionists. It is all very well to talk about the "crucible," but half the people who go into it are reduced to ashes. Mr. Le Gallienne will not accept Spinoza's view that "pain is an unmistakable evil; joy the vitalising, fructifying power."
Le Gallienne is evidently prepared to stand aghast at the fact that twice two make four. Why always four? Why not three to-day and seven to-morrow? Yea, and echo answers, Why? Here is another illustration of "mystery"
Mr. Le Gallienne does not see, either, that man did not exclaim, "How holy!" when he first fell upon his knees. His feeling was rather, "How terrible!" The sense of holiness is a social product a high sublimation of morality. Man had to possess it himself, and see it highly exemplified in picked specimens of his kind, before he bestowed it upon his gods.
First of all, he has to establish his native superiority over the common herd. He divides the world into "natural spiritualists and materialists." Mr. Le Gallienne, of course, belongs to the former. It is for them that he writes, although on his own supposition the task is superfluous.
Above the caryatidae were marble busts of men whom that age esteemed great moral emancipators and pioneers; for the most part their names were strange to Graham, though he recognised Grant Allen, Le Gallienne, Nietzsche, Shelley and Goodwin.
But there is a still higher, a more solemn, impression borne in upon him, and, falling upon his knees, he cries, 'How holy! That is the dawn of religion." Mr. Le Gallienne does not see that this is all imagination. "The heavens declare the glory of God," exclaims the Psalmist. On the other hand, a great French Atheist exclaimed, "The heavens declare the glory of Copernicus, Kepler, and Newton."
Mr. Gallienne, in his remarks appended to Professor Ansted's list, says the Ring Ouzel stays with us throughout the year, but is more plentiful in winter than in summer. But I have never myself seen one either dead or alive in the spring or summer.
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