Rejection, objects the hostile reader of this prospectus, is no ground on which to found a magazine! The less hostile, and in proportion, more curious reader perusing this prospectus now politely inquires: On what principles and to what ends is this lonely magazine to be founded?

To this curious peruser, first of all, do We extend welcome and thanks. We extend welcome and thanks alike to the hostile peruser as well, but turn our conversation where it is more appreciated, and that is to the curious guest. We extend welcome and thanks to all, for we care, first of all, to prove that our tent, be it shabby and rent, is as hospitable as any you might find in this wilderness. In the second place, liking very much to show that we offer not only thanks and welcome to our guests, but furthermore also spare no expense of attention (we do spare on the dinner however), We proceed to answer your question most minutely:

This magazine henceforth known as the Salon des Refusés (SdR) founds itself for the purpose of improving literature and bringing glory to those who have a mind to improve it, but perhaps lack the place to exhibit their toils, a place where glory might start to cling on to their work like a bloody, ancient altar might begin to teem with maggots. For glory, like other contagions, miasmas, and pollutions, is caught, as it were, from the open air.

Aye, imagine a toiling wordsmith in his narrow, chaste monastic cell—and if monks might thirst for their lord, that brings us to our next point: lest any of these brilliant though unglorified toilers in language languish under the almost godless tortures of celibacy, we propose this magazine as an anodyne to lonely cares and hope that a forsaken writer might someday soon find his lonely, but nonetheless, glowing soul out in the open air where lasses and lads catch amours like bloodied ancient altars catch insects (please see the paragraph directly above for more information about ancient altars, insects, and other pollutions).

Yes:
For the end of agonies,
For the encouragement of art,
For the exhibition of ideas,
For the alleviation of boredom,
For the curtailment of masturbation,
For the hope of future sex —

In short, for all of the high motives you would hope and all the low ones you would expect, do we hereby establish this Salon of ours.

What is more, do we make an open call to all writers who write upon interesting subjects or boring ones in an interesting way to submit their works in either the English, French, or German languages to be considered for inclusion in this cozy parlor of ours. And what is more to the point, do we make an open call to all readers, hostile and otherwise (hopefully more otherwise), to return in the Fall, when our bedouin tent and reject-Salon opens for the public.