E-kv
16
THE SUNDAY OBEQONIAN, OBTLAND, 15, 1900.
P0fW W jf'jp-aiMMI.lMJ.,
Campaign Lyric.
He at mr gate
De canderdate.
He all time "howdr do!"
My face Is black
Ex de chlmbly back
But he irish dat bis wux. tool
En "How yaa swine ter voter .
En "Ain't yon In mr boatr'
En "Heah's de ban
Er a wuckln' man.
En "I wish you'd wear my coat:
He at my gate
De canderdate
En he hang1 roun whar I Is.
Mr face Is blade
Er de chlmbly back.
But he say dat It don't smut his!
En "How you gwlne ter voter
Ea "Jump right In mr boatr
En "Heah's dhan'
Er a frien'ly man.
En mr hat. n shoes, en eoatr
Atlanta Constitution.
MAKERS OF LITERATURE
George E, Woodberry Critical E-
axs of Arnold, Darwin, Bromi.
lnsr, Byron, Shelley and Others.
No critical essays published "in recent
times ehould appeal more strongly to the
reader than those contained In "Makers of
Literature," by George Edward Wood
berry (The Macmlllan Company, New
Tork). He deals with familiar themes
Matthew Arnold, Landor. Charles Lamb,
Tarwln, Byron, Browning, Shelley but
he Is not conventional. The scholarly and
academic slowness of the essays, the In
tellectual and analytic qualities of the au
thor, and his reserved and conservative
atyle, ore revealed In the following ex
tracts from this delightful book:
In Tennyson, Keats and Shelley there
was Greek Influence, but In them the
result was modern. In Arnold, the an
tiquity remains; remains In mood. Just
as In Landor it remains In form. The
Greek twilight broods over all his poetry.
It Is pagan in philosophic spirit: not At
tic, but of a later and stoical time, with
the very virtues of patience, endurance.
Buffering, not In their Christian types, b'ut
bs they now seem to a post-Christian Im
agination locking back to the Imperial
past. There Is difference. It to true. In
Arnold's expression of the mood; he is as
little Sophoclcan as ho is Homeric, as lit
tle Lucretian as he Is Vergillan. The tem
perament is not the eame, not a survival or
a revival of the antique, but original and
living. And yet the mood of the verse li
felt at once to be a reincarnation of the
deathless spirit of Hellas that In other ages
also had made beautiful and solemn for a
time the shadowed places of the Christian
world. If one dote not realize this, he
must miss the secret of the tranquillity,
the chill, the grave austerity as well ai
the philosophical resignation which was
essential to the verse. ...
rrlde of the Intellect.
Hence, as one looks at his more philo
sophical and lyrical poems the profounder
part of his work and endeavors to determ
ine their character and sources alike. It
Is plain to see that. In the old phrase, "the
pride of the intellect" lifts Its lonely col
umn over the desolation of every page.
Tho man of the academy Is here as in the
prose, after all. He reveals himself in the
literary motive, the bookish atmosphere
of the verse, in its vocabulary. Its ele
gance of structure, its precise phrase and
Its curious allusions (Involving footnotes),
and. In fact, throughout all Its form and
structure. So sslf-consclous Is It that it
becomes frankly prosaic at inconvenient
times, and is mote often on the level of
eloquent and graceful rhetoric than of poetry-
It Is frequently liquid and melo
dious, but there Is no buret of native
6ong In It anywhere: it is the work of a
true poet, nevertheless; for there are
many voices for the Muse. It is sincere,
it Is touched with reality; it is the mir
ror of a phase of life In our times, and
not In our times only, but whenever the
Intellect seeks expression for Its sense
of the limitation of Its own career, and
Its sadness in a wflrld which It cannot
eolve
A word should be added concerning the
personality of Arnold which Is revealed In
his familiar letters a collection that has
dignified the records of literature with a
sngularly noble memory of private life.
Few who did not know Arnold could have
been prepared for the revelation of a na
ture so true. eo amiable, so dutiful. In
every relation of private life he Is shown
to have been a man of exceptional con
stancy and plainness. The letters are
mainly home letters: but a few friend
ships alo yield up their hoard, and thus
the circle of private life Is made com
plete. Every one must take delight In the
mental association with Arnold In the
ccenos of his existence thus dally exposed,
and In his family affections. A natura
warm to Its own, kindly to all. cheerful,
fond of snort and fun. and always fed
from pure fountains, and with It a charae
ter so founded upon the rork, ) humbVf
serviceable, so continuing In power an!
grace, must wake In all the responses ot
happy appreciation and leave the charm
of memory.
nmtron Arnold's Memory.
He did his duty aB naturally as If It re
quired neither recolve nor effort, nor
thought of any kind for the morrow, and
he never failed, seemingly, in act or word
of sympathy, in little or great things; and
when to this one adds the clear ether oi
the intellectual life where he habitual!
moved in his own life apart, and the hu
manity of his home, the gift that thest
letters bring may be appreciated. That
, gift is the man himself: but set In the at
mosphere of home, with eonship and fath
erhood, sisters and brothers, with the be-
. rcavement of years fully accomplished,
and those' of babyhood and boyhood a
sweet and wholesome English home, with
all the cloud and sunshine of the Engllrt
world drifting over Its roof-tree, and the
ssll of England beneath its stones, and
English duties for the hreath of its being.
To add such a home to the household
rights of English literature is perhaps
something from which Arnold would have
ehrunk. but It endears his memory.
Landorsprinclpleswereof thebwt vague,
hardly amounting to more than an unap
plied enthusiasm for liberty, heroism and
the other great watchwords of soc'al
rather than Individual life. These illu
minate, his work, but they do not give
it consistency. It is crystalline in struc
ture, beautiful, ordered, perfect In form,
when taken part by part, but conglom
erate as a whole: it Is a handful of Jew
els, many of which are singly of the most
transparent and glowing light, but unre
lated one to another placed In Juxtapo
sition but not t: and In the crystalline
roam Is Imbedded grosser matter, and
mingled with the Jewels are stones of dull
color and Jlrht we'ght, . . .
In Landors eight volumes there are
more fine thoughts, more wise apothegms,
than In any discursive author's work In
Engl'h literature, but they do not tell on
the mind. They bloom like flowers In
their gardens, but they crown no achieve,
ment. At the end. no cause Is advanced,
no goal Is won. This Incoherence and In
efficiency proceed from the absence of any
definite scheme of life, any compacts
system of thought, any central principles,
nay strong, pervading and ordering per
sonality. ... Its work has the serenity,
the remoteness that characterize high art.
but It lacks an intimate relation with the
peneral life of men: It sets forth formal
BOOKS
beauty. as painting does, but that beautj
remains a sensation and does not pass
into thought.
Denotes Landor'a Failure.
This absence of any vital rela
tion between his art and life, be
tween his objects and ideas, denotes his
failure. There are eo many poets whose
works contain as perfect beauty, and in
addition truth and pasalon; so many who,
I Instead of mirroring beauty, make it the
voice of life who, instead of responding
In melodious thought to the wandering
winds of reverie, strike their lyres in tho
strophe and antistrophe of continuous
song that the world Is content to let
Landor go by. The guests at the famous
late dinner party to which he looked for-
trarri will, indeed, be very few. and they
will be men ot leisure.
The form which Lamb chose for him
self, the familiar eesay as it has been de
veloped in England, was as well fitted to
him as his natural voice. iHe had begun
as a poet, but he lacked the- condensation,
the directness and singleness of intel
lectual aim. the power of control, which
are esecntlal to the poet: he was an ob
server of the world without, a rambler
In all things, and tended inevitably to that
dissipation of the eye among the multi
tude of men and things which ends In
prose: even as a humorist, he loses him
self In his impressions and becomes repor
torlaL ... He Is himself his best char
acter and best drawn. He was extraor
dinarily self-conscious, and the pages
yield little that he did not mean to be
told. One must go to the silent part ot
hla biography to obtain that sobering cor
rection of his whimsies and fallings, that
knowledge of his manliness In meeting the
necessities of his situation, that senpe of
honesty, industry and generosity, which
Is kept out of his books. The side that
moot men show to the world he concealed,
and he showed that which is commonly
kept secret. He had been a poet In youth,
and he never lost the habit of wearing his
"heart upon his sleeve. He was never, aa
a poet, to get beyond sentiment, which. In
a romantic age, is but a little way; and
In degenerating Into prose, as he thought
It. he gave no other sign of poetl' endow
ment than this of sentiment, which he
could not surrender: but to whit a length
he carried It without exceeding the bounds
of true feeling! Sentiment, like humor,
needs a delicate craft: but he, though not
so penetrating, was as sure of hand as
Burns. J . . And possibly, more than
all (yet excepting the pure charm of po
etry), their sentiment lingering on from
days of chivalry and the allegorical In lit
erature, fed a fundamental need of the
emotional In nature In such a life as
Lamb's perforce was. He became an Im
itator of antiquated style, a mannerist I
after his favorites, given to artifice and
fantasy as a literary method, and yet he
remained himself. The disease of language
does not penetrate to the thought.
Dnrvrln.
The blank page In this charming biog
raphy Is the page of spiritual life. There
Is nothing written there. The entire ab
sence of an element which enters common
ly In all men's lives In some degree is a
circumstance as significant as It Is aston
ishing. Never was a man more allveto
what Is visible and tangible, or In any way
matter ot sensation; on the sides of his
nature where an appeal could be made,
never was a man more responsive: but
there were parts In which he was blind and
dull. Just as the boy failed to be Inter
ested In many things, the roan failed, too;
and he disregarded what did not interest
him with the same ease at GO as at 20.
What did Interest him was the immediate
present, and he dealt with It admirably,
both in the Intellectual and the moral
world, but what was remote was as If It
were not.
One advantage Byron had with for
eign nations that with his own counts as
a defect. He had no form, no art. no
finish: and tho poet who failed In these
things can be read In our day only by a
kind of sufferance, and with continual fric
tion with what has come to be our mas
tering literary taste for perfection In the
manner. It has been said that he conse
quently bore translation better than he
otherwise would. His quality Is power, not
charm, the mood and the situation and
the thought are the elements which count
In his poetry, while the words are at th
best eloquent or witty, but not "the liv
ing garment of light." . . . What la
there left? Some stirring passages of ad
venture, some eloquent descriptions of Na
ture, some personal lyrics of true poetical
feeling, dramas which. It Is to be hoped,
have finally dammed the "unities." and
one great poem of the modern spirit. Don
Juan. And what remains of that melo
dramatic Byron of women's fancies? Hli
character has come out plain, and we are
really amazed at it proud, sensual, selfish,
and. It may be added, mean. Ignoble he
was In many ways, but for all that the
energy of his passions, his vitality, hli
masterly egotism and the splendid force
of his genius, made his a commanding
name, and stamped him uoon the suc
ceeding European time. He cannot be
neglected by history, but men eertalnlj
appear to pus him by.
Brovrnlnfr.
Interest centers entirely in his poetry,
for his career has been without notable
Incident, and Is told when It Is said hf
has lived the life of a scholar and man of.
letters In England and Italy amid the
social culture of his time. For the world,
his career Is the succession of books he has
put forth, and this Is as he would have It;
publicity beyond this he did not seek,
but refused with violence and acrimony
. . . This is pure optimism: and In ac
cordance with it, he preaches his gospel,
which is that each soul should grow to
Its utmost In power and in love, and In the
face of difficulties of mysteries in expert-
ence or thought should repose with entire
trust on the doctrine that God has ordered
life beneflclently. and that we who live
should wait with patience., even In the
wreck of our own or others lives, for the
disclosure hereafter which shall reconcile
to our eyes and hearts the Jar with Jus
tice and goodness of all that has gone be
fore. This Is a system simple enough and
complete enough to live by. if It be
truly accepted. It Is probable, however,
that Browrng wins lees by these doc
trines, which are old and commonplace,
than by the vigor with which he dogma
tizes upon them: the certainty with which
he speaks of Buch high matters: the fervot
and, sometimes, the eloquence with which,
touching upon the deepest and most sacred
chord of the heart's desire, he strikes out
the notes of courage, of hope and vision,
and of the foretasted triumph. Th enenrj
of his own faith carries others along wltts
It: the manliness of his own soul infects
others with its cheer and Its delight In the
struggles for spiritual life on earth: but
ail 1Mb the more because he Is learned In
the wisdom of the rabbis. Is conversant
with modern life and knowledge In all Iti
range, to gifted with intellectual genius,
and yet displays, a faith the more robust
because It Is not cloistered, the more cred
ible because It Is not professional. . . .
Dreary Wastes.
It Is when the question to raised upos
the permanent value of his work that the
opportunity for wide divergence arises.
That there are dreary wastes in it cannot
be gainsaid. Much is now unreadable that
was excused in a contemporary book;
much never was readable at all, and of tht
remainder, how much will the next age,
In Its turn, cast aside? Its serious claim
to our attention on ethical, 'religious or In
tellectual grounds may be admitted, with
out pledging the 20th century, which win
have Its own special phases of thought,
and thinkers to Illustrate them. Brown
ing must live as the other immortals do,
by the poetry in him. It is true he has
enlarged the field of poetry by annexing
the experience that belongs to the artist
and the musician, and has made some
of his finest and most original poems out
of such motives, and his wide knowledge
7
has served him In other ways, though 11
has stiffened many a pagi with pedantrj
and antlquarianlsro. It is true that there
Is a grotesque quality in some of his work,
but h'.s humor in this kind is really a
pretense: no one laughs at It; It arouses
only an amazed wonder, like the stona
masks ot some medieval church. In all
he derived from learning and scholarship
there Is the alloy of mortality; In all his
moralizlngs and special pleading and super
fine reasoning there enters the chance
that the world may lose Interest hi his
treatment of the subject; in all. except
where he sings from the heart Itsett or
pictures life directly or without comment
save of the briefest, there is some oppor- j
tunlty for time to breed decay. The faith not signed Dy tne aumor. ney are noi
he preached was the poetical complement those pieces so much "sureresied or for
of Carlyle's prose, and proceeded from gotten as unrecognized as the work oi
much the same grounds and by the same Thackeray. While many of these were,
steps; believe In God and act like a man j only of ephemeral value, many are quite
that was the substance of it. . . . as worthy of preservation as many of hli
It was not hie lot to be strong as the I
thinker, the moralist with the "accom
plishment of verse." the scholar Interested
to rebuild the past of experience, the
teacher with an explicit dogma to enforco
In an Intellectual form with examples
from life, the anatomist of human pa
sions. Instincts and impulses in all their
JOHN
Last of the Seers, and rarest, and most gracious,
Are the eyes dim 'that saw so subtly true?
Or is their vision vaster and more spacious,
Piercing to truths and beauties strange and new?
Master oi speech, doth silence now surround thee,
Are the lips mute that spoke so full and clear?
Or have the suave-voiced Sages, greeting, crowned thee
Their laurelled peer?
Who shall declare? This know we, and this only.
His vibrant voice we shall not hear again
Soaring like mighty music, sad and lonely,
High o'er our vulgar broils and babblings vain
Silent in pulseless peace the poet slumbers
Who spoke such lovely things as few have sung,
And taught to move, in amplest, loftiest numbers,
Our English tongue.
Beauty's high priest, he saw his Goddess lurking
Where common eyes passed ignorantly by;
' He traced her touch in Nature's tiniest working,
In Art proclaimed her sole supremacy; v
In Life he longed to see her worship -regnant,
Thoughts fair and free and manners fine and fit;
He plead her cause in paradoxes pregnant
And exquisite. .
Mourn by his bier whate'er earth holds of fairest
Birds of the air he loved your burnished wings, "
Flowers of the field, the humblest and the rarest,
Shells of the sea he read your murmurings;
Streams, lakes, and moorlands, Down, and Fell, and Grampian,
"The Springs of Wandle," and "The Banks of Tay,"
Mourn, for your faithful friend and fearless champion
Hath passed away.
Weep, Venice, for your lost, your life-long lover.
From Chioggia to Torcello's lone lagoon
Let' clouds your radiant Alpine rampart cover
And mists of mourning veil your jeweled noon.
What brightest luster of the name Venetian
Hath not his magic made more lustrous yeil
Answer, Carpaccio, Giambellini, Titian
And Tintoret!
Last of the Seers, thy doctrine and thy presage
Were too austere to fascinate the throng;
Our wiser sons shall read and say, "His message
Was beautifully right and nobly wrorig."
On rushing wings the Future comes to meet thee,
Till who can say? in larger, calmer years,
A lqyelier England may make haste to greet thee
First of her Seers.
Westminster Gazette.
gamut, the commentator on his age; he
was weak as the artist, and Indulged, often
unnecessarily and by choice, 'In the re
pulsive form in the awkward, the ob
scure, the ugly. He belongs with John
son, with Dryden. with the heirs ot the
masculine Intellect, the men of power not
unvlslted by grace, but In whom mind Is
predominant. Upon the work of such poets
time hesitates, conscious oi ineir memm
greatness, but also of their Imperfect art.
their heterogeneous matter: at last the
good Is sifted from that whence worth has
departed.
Shelley.
One hundred years have passed since
Shelley was born, and two genera
tions have been burled since his
ashes were laid by the Roman
wall. It is reasonable to ask
whether he had any share In this prophetic i
power, brooding on things to come, which
Is the mystical endowment of poetic
genius: whether he anticipated time In
those far thoughts forecasting hope, which
he declared to be the substance ot poetic
intuition: whether he be one of those who.
In his own phrase, rule our spirits from
their urns, with power 6tlll vital In the
chaotic thought and striving of
man-
kind. . . . Shelley was a moralist, but
he used the poet's methods. He declared
the treat commands and he denbunced
wrong with anathemas, but he also gave
a voice to the lament of the soul, to Its
aspirations and Its Ineradicable. If mis
taken, faith In the results of time: and the
ideas which he uttered with such af
fluence of expression, such poignancy of
sympathy, such a thrill of prophetic tri
umph, are absorbed In the spirit whlcn
poured them forth in Its Indignation at
Injustice, its hopefulness of progress. Us
complete conviction of the rIghtemisneM ot
lis cause, no nas ion KinuunB power in
.--. .... Tk.. . V.II.T-. In
tho perfectibility of man under the condl-
tlocn-of mortal life, but they do believe
In his greater perfection: and Shelley"
worda strengthen them In effort. ...
The cause Shelley served Is still In Its
struggle, but those to whom social Justice
is a watchword and the development of the
Individual everywhere In liberty. Intelli
gence and virtue Is a cherished hope,
must be thankful that Shelley lived: that
the substance of his work Is so vital, and
his Influence, inspiring, as It Is. beyond
that of any of our poets m these days.
was, and le. so completely on the side of
the century's advance. His words are
sung by marching thousands In the streets
of London. No poet of our time has
touehed the cause of progress In the living
breath and heart-throb of men so close
as that. Yet, remote as the poet's dream
always seems. It Is ra'her that life-long
singing of the golden age. In poem after
poem, which raot restores and Inflames
those who. whether they be rude or re
fined, are the choicer spirits of mankind,
and bring, with revolutionary violence of
'deal Imagination, the things to come.
They hate the things he hated: like him.
they love, above all things. Jurtlee; they
naro the passions of his faith In man
kind. Thus, were h"s own life as dark
s Shakespeare's, and had he left unwrit
ten those personal lyrics which some who
-oncelve the -poet's art less nobly would
-rait above his grander poems, he would
-land pre-eminent and almost solitary for
-is service to the strucxling world, for
what he did as a aulckener of menVlthe crest financial mlnlnr. Honor nnd
hearts by his passions for supreme and
simple truths. If. these have more holt
In society now than when- he died, and II
his Influence baa contributed Its share,
however blended with the large forces of
civilization, he has In this sense given law
to the world and equaled the height of tna
loftiest conception of the poet's signifi
cance In the .spiritual life of man.
Thackeray In Panes.
M. H. Splelmann, the compiler of
"Thackeray's Unidentified Contributions
to Punch," Is editor of the London Maga
zine of Art. and is generally considered an
authority on Thackeray. His book in.
eludes between 30 and 40 drawings taken
from Punch, and Is necessarily a most
valuable edition to the literature which
has grown up around the great novelist
and his works. Mr. Splelmann had access
to a Ionr-forzotten Punch editorial day
book, in which the name of the author
of each article Is entered, together with
the amount paid for It The contributions
In his new volume are those that were
lighter sketches and verses. "literary
consideration apart." says Mr. Splelmann,
"they are. In the aggregate, of real value
and Interest, for they show upon what top
ics of public concern Thackeray was writ
ing during the years here dealt with, and
what he thought about them: that Is to
say. his views on things In general, and
RUSKIN.
en major and minor events that passed la
his day opinions. In short, which help to
reveal the man and which aro necessary
to the biographer for the full understand
ing of his character, as the books he wrott
or the letters wherein his own self is some
times set down, and sometimes, maybe,
concealed. This essay, then, lays calm
to a certain personal Interest, and to pos
sess something of the charm. It Is hoped,
that belongs to a genuine literary discov
ery." Mr. Splelmann deals with 1K new
Items, ranging from a short paragraph of
a line or two, mere epigrams, to a long
article, and from a couplet to a, poem of
123 lines. (Harper & Bros.. New York.)
BOOK JfOTES.
Mroolrs of Alexander I and the
Court of Itnsala.
An Important contribution to historical
literature Is promised from the press of A.
C. McClurg & Co., Chicago, who will
shortly publish a translation of Jhe "His
torical Memoirs of the Emperor Alexan
der I and the Court of Russia," by Mad
ame La Comtesse de Cholseul-Goufiicr,
ee. Comtesse de TIsenhaus. The trans
latlon. by Mary Berenice Patterson, is
made from a copy ot the original work
now In the possession of an antiquarian
in Thun, Switzerland this being one of
the two copies of the book known to be
In existence. The other copy is In the
British Museum. The author of this vol
ume was an intimate friend of Alexander
and an ardent supporter of his foreign and
domestic policy. When Napoleon entered
Russia she was presented to him; and her
pages contain a lifelike and characteristic
picture of the "Little Corporal."
.mc wu cuiuua oi Kicoaru wnci a
9TiTiniin T I. ,' it. mv h..-
sand.
Miss Minna Caroline Smith's novel.
1J3lary' Paget," has Just gone Into Its nec-
ond edition. This is the story of the
Bermudas of the Elizabeth's day which
has been gaining some attention from
Shakespeare's lovers on account of Its
connection with the scene of "The Tem
pest" and of the appearance of Shakes
peare 'as a character In the story.
Literature Is generally thought to -be
quite apart from polities, but John S.
Wise, the author of "The End of an Era,"
an extremely Interesting Inside view of
the men and the events ot the Confeder
acy, has discovered otherwise. The au
thor of the. book served throughout the
Civil War In the Confederate Army, and
enjoys the friendship of Mrs. Jefferson
Davis, as he does that of all the survivors
of 'that era who were actively concerned
in the struggle. But he Is a Republican,
and, among a certain element in the
South, his book has aroused a most stren
uous and even bitter opposition.
If wo may believe J. A. Hobson, In his
book. "The War in South Africa." it Is
easy to understand tbe distrust In which
the Boers have held the "outlanders,"
while behaving in a friendly, manly way
to British soldiers when not fighting them.
Mr. Hobson gives facts and figures for his
contention that there are 15,000 Jews in
Johannesburg for the most part Russians
and Gormans who have become natural
ized British subjects by short residences
In England. He says that practically all
gambling Interests are la thfjl fc&sds.
jVhy rushed the discords in. but that harmony
should be prized?
Sorrow Is hard to bear, and doubt Is slow to
clear.
Each auSerer says his say, his scheme ot the
weal and woe; t
But Cod has a few ot us whom he whispers
in the ear;
The real may reason and welcome: 'tis we mu
sicians know. Robert Browning.
ARTIST RULES THE MAN
PaderewslcTs Since Light Covent
Garden. Senaon Relative Acts of
Living- Pianists Other News.
Those who studied Paderewskl's face
through the lorgnette while ho was at the
piano Wednesday night not an easy thing
In that low-toned, mystic light must have
been impressed with Its delicate sensitive
ness and quick response to emotion. It
is a mobile, restless face. Not for a
moment is It quiet while his hands are
on the keyboard. The swift and subtle
changes that pass over It appear to be
quite Involuntary. In no other way
does he show any inclination toward
mannerisms.
"A deaf person might easily read In his
face the thought expressed by the music,"
a. Portland woman was heard to say in a
street-car conversation the morning after
the concert. The reason he makes
a practice of turning the light
down so lovi may be part of
hiss general plan of "posing," of
which he has been accused, but I am
inclined to think It is a means of pro
tecting himself from the arrows of hu
morously inclined critics. Philip Hale
says that If PaderewskI were to play be
hind & screen his popularity would prob
ably vanish. On the contrary. I believe
that if he were to play regularly in a
blaze of unfriendly light, exposing to the
vulgar stare of the multitude the wrinkled
brow, the quivering chin, the thousand
and one sympathetic changes that chase
one another" across his face If this were
done, I believe he would become a target
for ridicule. Instead of a gjortflcd being
to bo adored a sort of new creation,
midway between God and man.
"No, I am not laughing at him. I think
he shows his rare good taste and com
mon sense In nothing more than in this
arrangement of row-burning stage lights.
It places him at once In an atmosphere of
mystery. And. what Is much more Im
portant, removes from him every trace of
self-consciousness and constraint, such as
would naturally hamper a pianist of his
sensitive fiber. If placed in an ugly glare
of light. It leaves him absolutely free
to follow the dictates of his nature In giv
ing spontaneous, physical expression to
his feelings while he plays.
"What I most admire and wonder at In
PaderewskI Is the domination of the artist
over the man. This Is really a great tri
umph, probably much greater than we
plain, every-day people realize, for tho
emotional temperament will always be an
unsolved riddle to the lymphatic tempera
ment. He evidently, has a painfully sen
sitive and excitable organization, yet he
has absolute control over It. I've been
wondering If he shows the same self
control when he Is alone with his wife.
"Take for example his playing of the
Beethoven sonata. There is a daring
power, almost fury, to that allegro con
brio, and PaderewskI brought this out su
perbly, yet you felt a certain master
fulness of will behind it alL It was al
ways 'thus far and no rartner. iou ten
this subordination of nature to art In
every number on the programme except
the last one. the Hungarian rhapsody.
There all was changed. Thunder and
lightning were unloosed. It was a lurid
glimpse of majesty and tlger-Hke passion
battling together, with passion winning In
the end. Now PaderewskI was most of
all the artist In thus throwing art to tho
winds at exactly the right moment. He
would never have descended to that cheap
trick of kicking the pedals to make a more
thundering noise In the Beethoven num
ber. But It was not so much out of ac
cord with the spirit of the rhapsody." and
(there was a queer twinkle In her eye.
l"Llszt was such a volcanic genius! No
doubt there are laws that govern even
volcanoes, but we haven't discovered
them."
The announcement has Just been made
that the season of grand opera In Lon
don will be opened at Convent Garden on
May It with a performance ot. counoa s
"Romeo and Juliet." la which Mme. Mel
ba will make her re-entree. Maurice Grau
will be assisted In the management of the
,,,. there Dy the Earl de Grey
nSTwJSrv V. Hl-gins. Thelubscriptlon
. i, ,. th,n that of th seaon Of ISSD.
'Brier man llkl ui ww "" -
At the head of the list of patrons stand
the names of the Prince and Princess of
Wales.
"Romeo and Juliet" Is to be followed by
all the familiar operas as well as "La Bo.
heme" and "La Tosca." Two cycles of
Wagner's "Ring des Nrbelungen" will be
given the first commencing on Tuesday.
June 5. and the second on Monday. June
13. All these performances wilt be corf
ducted by Felix Motl. Jean de Reszke
may appear In some of Um "ring" operas.
The llat of artists is a long one and in
cludes Mints. Melba. Temlna. Eames.
Suzanne Adams. Gadskl, Susan Strong,,
Schumann-Helnk. Jean and Edouard de'
Reszke. Messrs. Kraus of Bavreuth nnd
Berlin. Plancon von Rooy, Scottl, and
many others.
Some one with a penchant for statistics
has engaged In the pleasant task of col
lecting data regarding the ages of cele
brated living pianists. Figures usually
make dry reading, but In view of the
genial personal Interest that Portland peo
ple feel In the career of several of these
artists the list ls given herewith. The
statistician evidently considers it is uselew
to labor with the elusive subtleties of style
on such an occasion,
"De Pachmann.born In 1848. Is now about
62," says tbe critic. "Emll Lelbllng, born
In 1831, Is now about 49; Joseffy, born in
1832. Is now 4S: Sherwood, born In 1S54,
is 46: Hyllested. bom In 1848. Is S2; Fried-
Irtuic ben JuiS&.Js Jii-Paexcwskjborn
In lfES. U now Just past 40: 'Sauer and
Rosenthal, born in lSf2,.are SS; Sllotl, bom
In ISO, Is 37: D Albert, born In 1SS4. Is now
36; Busonl. born In 1866, is 34; Godowsky,
born In 187B. is 30: Hambourg, born In 1S79,
Is now a. It will be noticed that the four
pianists generally believed to possess the
greatest technique, Rosenthal. D'Albert,
Busonl and Godowsky. are all between 30
and -40. Busonl and Godowsky, continues
the critic (who Is no less a person than
Mr. Mathews editor of 'Music'), "being
the youngest as well as the greater play
err, though with this dictum many will
disagree. The still living Salnt-Saens be
longs to an earlier generation. He was
born in 1S33, and is therefore now 63.
Among women pianists, Sophie Menter,
born in 1845. is the oldest, viz.. 2; Madame
Carreno, born In 1853. Is now 47; Madamft
Rive-King, born in 1S57. Is now 43, and
Madame Bloomfleld-Zelsler. born In 1S66,
Is now 34. She belongs with the men who
are now between 30 and 40. The older
players may be regarded as having com
pleted their style and tastes.
Performances of "Carmen" at the Met
ropolitan Opera-House. New York, when
Madame Calve Is the, heroine, are never
monotonous, and so the audience needs
no such unexpected Incident as took place
In act 3 the other night, to give variety
to the presentation, says a New York ex
change. The Incident, or accident, was
the fainting of Madame Calve Just as she
was separating Don Jose (Mr. Sallgnac)
and Escamlllo (Mr. Scottl), as they were
in tno midst ot their duel with daggers.
The soprano ran too violently against Mr.
Scout's arm and fell to the floor, while
the curtain wss rung down and the music
stopped.
It was announced that Madame Calve
had fainted and that the performance
would bo resumed In a few minutes. The
plucky singer soon reappeared and the
opera was taken up where It had been
left off, and completed without further
hindrance. Madame Calve was in high
spirits throughout the first half of the
performance, and her buoyancy seemed
scarcely diminished after her mishap.
Theresa Carreno has been in Paris, play
ing with the Colonne Orchestra and giv
ing two piano recitals at the Salle Erard
last week, writes Gustln Wright in The
Concert-Goer. She may well feel proud
of her entree In the French capital, for
nver in the memory of the oldest and
best Informed musicians has a womas
had such a reception in Paris. As M.
Kleber said to me: "Even Rubinstein was
not received with more enthusiasm." Het
concert of last Saturday was a veritable
triumph, for she was recalled at the end
of the programme six times, and gav!
two extra numbers to satisfy the audi
ence, a thing unheard of among the cold
French audiences.
At a recent song-recital given at Car
negie Hall. New York. Mme. Sembrich
sang In six languages Italian. French.
LGerman. English. Polish and Russian
and this feat alone would be considered
paramount as an achievement with almost
any other singer. The fact that It was
only a detail In Mme. Sembrlch's singing
affords sufficient evidence of Its all-round
greatness.
A cablegram to the New York Herald
Tuesday announces that Rudolph Aron
son, the New York manager, has engaged
M. Jean de Reszke to "lead" a new grand
opera by Max Vogrich, entitled "Der Bud
dah." Whether we are to understand
that M. Jean Is to sing the leading tenor
role or sit In the director's chair Is not
made clear. It Is well known that Mr.
Aronson has for some tlmo had a contract
with Vogrich to produce his new opera,
but the practlcalicertalnty that the Polish
tenor will be with Mr. Grau's company
next season makes one hesitate to accept
the Aronson rumor. Perhaps the foxy
manager Is attracting attention to his
project by the nse of M. Jean's magic
name.
i
The Oratorio Society, of New York, un
der the direction of Mr. Frank Damroscn.
gave at Its Carnegie Hall concert on April
5. Bach's B minor mass nearly In its en
tirety. This was a notable event In the
annals of New York musical history, for
this mass Is generally regarded by au
thorities as one of Bach's greatest works.
It is said that it has never before been
given in this country In anything like Its
entirety. To master it is a task of the
greatest difficulty for any chorus. Mr.
Damroscn obtained two obol d'amore, ob
solete Instruments that Bach employed in
his orchestra, and put two obodlsts at
work learning how to play them. In order
that Bach's orchestral effects might bo
as nearly as possible reproduced.
Good old Max Helnrleh and Miss Julia
Helnrich have given two recitals this
week with another booked for tonight,
said a Boston critic a few days ago. Our
old-time favorite showed that he has lost
none of his cunning, even If his voice has
a few gray hairs on it, Julia Helnrich
is a worthy daughter of the genial Max.
Ellen Bench Yair'n Top Xote.
Ellen Beach Yaw's "top note" has ex
cited vast Interest all over the world and
there are few vocalists who claim to sur
pass It. When this California girl made
her first appetrance In New York, it
caused endless discussion in clubs and
drawing-rooms; and club men were fond
of attributing her great range of voice to
her abnormal length of throat.
One day at a well-known club a throat
specialist was present who had examined
Miss. Yaw's larynx. He said her vocal
chords were the finest he had ever seen
or heard of, and wero capable of 27 full
notes. A scientist explained this extra
ordinary altitude by stating that the un
usual length of neck allowed for It. and
that Miss Yaw's somethlng-wlth-a-Iong-name
which means the true vocal chord
made 204S vibrations per second. This in
formation was all very delightful, but it
did not settle the mooted question
whether Miss Yaw's top note was the
highest on record. At length a happy
thought struck one man. He consulted
the Encyclopedia Britannlca and found
that the greatest vocal compass In history
is that once possessed by an ISth century
soprano, Lucrezla AJugari. whose range
was from A below the staff to D In altls
slmo two notes less than the Buffalo girl.
A Miss Bertha Bird, of Melbourne, Aus
tralia, who Is well known as a vocalist In
that far-away capital, claims that she
has an even greater range than Miss Yaw.
She has a phenomenal voice, so the local
papers state, which ranges the five C's.
and she not only sings F altlssimo but
several beyond.
Cnntata at St. Helen's Hall.
Smart's cantata. "King Rene'3 Daugh
ter." will be given Tuesday evening of
this week, at St. Helen's Hall, by tne
choral clsss. under the direction ot Mrs.
Walter Reed.
Postponed One 'Week.
Owing to unforeseen circumstances, the
symphony concert will be given on the
evening of Thursday.April 2G. instead of
the Uth. as announced.
Maslcnl CInb 5ote.
The committee having charge of the
concirt to be given at the First Presby
terian Church. April 15, have decided not
to Issue tickets, but to open the church
to the public free of charge, as has been
done In previous years. The object Is to
reach many whose circumstances make
good music one of tho unattainable luxu
ries of life, and It U hoped that those
who can afford to pay high prices for
their own mslcal gratification will not for
get the less fortunate lovers of music
who are rarely given an opportunity of
this kind. oCntributlons towards this re
cital will be gladly received by Miss
Steers, chalimin of the concert commit
tee. There will be no students' recital
this season.
At the last business meeting It was
voted to enlarge the student membership
by admitting the pupils of associate as
well .as of active club members. Each
teacher is limited to five students.
PADEREWSKI HAS FAULTS
THE PEOPLE'S IDOL SHATTEItED BY
TWO WELL-ICfOIVX CRITICS.
Tney Say He Founds Brutally, Even
Kicks the Pedals, and1 Cannot
Ploy Fnsrnes.
PaderewskI Is the subject of a racy ed
itorial In the March number ot "Music
.the Chicago monthly edited by W. S. B.
lathews. "Music" for a. long uma
past has been conspicuously laud
atory of. a certain other plan-si.
Mr. Godowsky. ot Chicago, and possibly
this may In part explain the extreme
severity of the strictures made against the
popular idol. But strange to say Philip
Hale, tho well-known music. critic of Bos
tont supports Mr. Mathews in his opinion.
"I notice all along the line this year a,
certain acerbity In the criticism, much
more than upon tho former appearance of
this artist," begins Mr. Mathews, 'quits
mildly. "I think it Is not difficult to point
out the reason: Mr. Paderewskl's playing
Is not commensurate with his popular esti
mation as the first of living pianists, his
prices, and his tacit assumptions. More
over, musicians go farther, and
bewail the fact that in recognition ot his
rank Mr. PaderewskI should not play the
bestihe possibly can. and devote himself to
advancing the true art of playing tone
poetry upon the piano. Instead of exploit
ing his ephemeral popularity for the sake
of getting money.
"The source of dissatisfaction In Mr.
Paderewskrs work lies first of all In his
programmes, which aro stale and conven
tional to a degree: and second. In the
manner In which he plays them, which Is
wanting In most ot the higher qualities ot
art.
"It Is tho fashion to credit
Mr. PaderewskI with having great
technique. Possibly he has It,
but his playing does not show it.
First ho avoids difficult works; then the
more difficult ones that he does play are
Imperfect from a technical standpoint. Ha
gets through them, but we do not hear un
der his fingers that unfailing distinctness
and clearness of detail, whether the en
semble be loud or soft, which Is one of the
prerogatives of really great technique. The
most that can be truthfully eald in his fa
vor Is that his technique, when he is la
practice. Is up to the demands cf the con
ventional repertory of pianists.
"The most serious difficulty with his art.
however. Is the lack of what we might
call molecular expression In everything ho
plays. He shows the natural Influence ot
continued practice- upon monophonic music
exclusively, and upon the most melodious
and simple at that. Whenever he has a
melody (and recognizes the fact) he sings
It as sentimentally as an Italian woman.
Thts naturally appeals to the public; but
musicians know that there Is In music a
higher good, which this sentimental ab
sorption In cantilena frequently misses.
When he is busy with cantilena he entirely
forgets the remainder of the structure.
All suggestions of Inner voices, all har
monic nuances, even the rhythm, are for
gotten. In this particular respect Mr.
Paderewskl's playing Is one of the worst
possible of bad examples for young stu
dents. It stops short with the 'Song With
out Words' period of Mendelssohn and
the Nocturne of Chopin.
"Even In polyphonic playing this defi
ciency of molecular life still prevails. The
subject of the fugue Is brought out. forced
out, shouted at one: the supporting voices
are like' the New England children, 'to
be seen and not heard. They are put to
bed early and they stay there. Mr. Pad
erewskI plays a fugue very badly Indeed.
He has talent enough. If he could disabuse
himself of his devotion to cantilena, to play
fugue well, really charmingly: with the
come and go of Inner voices, the living,
pulsating conversation of a true poly
phony. But he does nnt.
"Aside from this deplorable poverty In
molecular nuance, Mr. PaderewskI has
positive faults: or. rather, one great
fault, which vitiates his wholo art. Ha
pounds the piano most brutally. He adds
to tho pounding the animal trait of kick
ing the pedal. In order to add the noise
of the whole frame of dampers falling
upon the wires to the over-forced tone
volume; he put In a middle note or two
In his sforzando octaves In the bass. This
Is work for the gallery and for a very
bad gallery at that,
"And what are we to say about his
repertory? Does Mr. PaderewskI mean
to tell us that there are no effective bril
liant pieces for piano since those offensive
and banal vulgarities, the Liszt Hungar
ian Rhapsodies? Why should these phe
nomenally threadbare pieces, which have
even lost their value foa pedagogic pur
poses, be thrust upon us at this late day?
Consider how barren they are; how llttlo
real piano playing they contain. They
Illustrate the worst side of a pianist who
was himself, like Mr. PaderewskI. a bit
of poseur (I mean no disrespect by belit
tling Mr. Paderewskl's art In this respect,
for It Is great) and who by no means
uniformly Illustrated the best side of
piano-playing.
Philip Hnle' Opinion.
"The most cruel treatment of the Pad
erewskI peculiarities that has fallen un
der my notice is that of Mr. Philip Hale,
In the Musical Record. He, begins by at
tributing PaderewskKs ouccess to person
ality. He Is unkind "enough to give cur
rency to the old Paris canard which at
tributed Paderewskl's hirsute kinks to
nocturnal curl papers, and. after recog
nizing his strange personal magnetism, he
goes on:
" The personal quality of Mr. Pade
rewskI would have carried him far if he
had chosen some more peaceful calling, as
diplomacy, the army, law. medicine, tho
priesthood; or If he had sold soap on
street corners.
" 'Would the effect of his performance
be as great If he should play behind a
screen?
" 'How cunningly contrived Is his mlre-en-scene!
Tho dim hall, the stage light
arranged to fall on the pianist's lucratlva
hair, the purpose to accentuate the an
drogynal mystery that sits in the low
chair, the delay of 2i minutes to heat
curiosity and excitement to the boiling
point of hysteria! O Bamumlsm refined
Barnumlsm but Barnumism!
" "The day may come when a still more
skillfully managed pianist will play in a
hall that Is dark, save for a lime light
thrown from the gallery on the hypnotist.
He may close the concert with a ptanis-
Elmo, and then rink through the stage.
with the piano,
while he kisses his hand
cracefully to the ladles. Or with a fortis-
Elmo he may ascend with the piano, as
in the apotheosis in a pantomime. I
wonder why even now Mr. PaderewskI
docs not prefer to appear on the stags
by the aid of a vampire trap.
" 'It would be eminently unjust to aeny
the attractive qualities ot Mr. PaderewskI
as a pianist when he is at his best. His
po'.tshed and dazzling technique, his ex
quisite tone, his singing of the phrase,
his clearness In contrapuntal passages
these attainments have Justly given hhn
a prominent position among leading pian
ists. When Ethel Sings.
"When Ethel elngs. the faithful doc
Runs hovling to the cellar door.
And plteously whines and begs
That, he shall not be tortured mora
The family cat seclusion Becks
Far underneath the guest-room bed.
The poor canary "neath hla wing
Forlornly hides his little head.
When Ethel elncs. the passers by
Upon the rldewalk stop and look.
Trhmklng perhaps the hired man
I roucMy murdering the cook.
The neighbors shut their windows tlsht.
And lola In eailng bitter things;
The whole community. In fact.
Is deeplx stirred when Ethel slngsL
Soaerrille JcoraaJL
1
iyi-