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-