The Cry of the Little Peoples

Booklet and pictures courtesy of Dick Blacher. Comments by Paul Jackson.

The Cry of the Little Peoples

by Richard  Le Gallienne, undated
Robert Rust attributes the date to this as approximately 1903.

This booklet measures 5.75" x 4" with 6 pages. Richard Le Gallienne (1866-1947), English poet and critic, was born in Liverpool on the 20th of January 1866. He started life in a business office in Liverpool, but abandoned this to turn author. A member of the Oscar Wilde circle, he was a literary critic and contributed to the Yellow Book with Aubrey Beardsley, Max Beerbohm and Ernest Dowson. He associated with the fin-de-siecle esthetes of the 1890s before becoming a resident of the United States. His works include the poems Volumes in Folio (1889), the novel Quest of the Golden Girl (1896), and Attitudes and Avowals (1910), a collection of essays and papers. Two books of reminiscences about the prominent literary figures of the 1890's include The Romantic 90ís (1925) and From a Paris Garret (1936).

"Of all the poets I know, I think Richard Le Gallienne looks most like a poet. When Ebony and Ivory came out, I sent him a copy; and I shall never forget the thrill of pleasure he gave me when he came to tea at Patchin Place, carrying the book in his hand for me to inscribe. For Richard Le Gallienne always represented to my mind the last of the great figures of the Nineties; and in truth, because of a certain look of fatality he wore over his shoulders, like Caesar's cloak, one was constantly being reminded that one was talking with a man who had sat at meat with Swinburne, with Dowson, with Lionel Johnson, and with Oscar Wilde. In later days, I used to walk with him in the Catskill Mountains, and have seen him many times come toward me with his jacket on his arm, light of step as any fisher-boy; but even then I never lost the impression, though we might be happy for long hours together, that in some curious way he was set apart, that he was hearing, from the hollow chasms of the great stone-quarries he loved, a voice I could not hear, seeing through the slim trunks of the silver birches which rose out of the bracken a form that I could not see." (from Llewelyn Powys, The Verdict of Bridlegoose)

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