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diff --git a/26320-h/26320-h.htm b/26320-h/26320-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c9f23b2 --- /dev/null +++ b/26320-h/26320-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10405 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Merry-Go-Round, by Carl Van Vechten. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- +body { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; } + +p { margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em; } + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 +{ + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +hr +{ + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + +.pagenum +{ /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + +.author {text-align: right; margin-right: 5%;} + +.center {text-align: center;} +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} +.fnanchor +{ + vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none; +} + +.poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 +{ + display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 +{ + display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 +{ + display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i10 +{ + display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em; +} + +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Merry-Go-Round, by Carl Van Vechten + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Merry-Go-Round + +Author: Carl Van Vechten + +Release Date: August 15, 2008 [EBook #26320] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MERRY-GO-ROUND *** + + + + +Produced by Bryan Ness, Diane Monico, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced +from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print +project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a></span></p> + + + +<h1>The<br /> +Merry-Go-Round</h1> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a></span></p> + +<p class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/image001.png" width="150" height="144" alt="" title="" /> +</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="books"> +<tr><td align='center'><i><big><b>BOOKS BY</b></big></i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><i><big><b>CARL VAN VECHTEN</b></big></i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>MUSIC AFTER THE GREAT WAR</td><td align='left'>1915</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>MUSIC AND BAD MANNERS</td><td align='left'>1916</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>INTERPRETERS AND INTERPRETATIONS</td><td align='left'>1917</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE MERRY-GO-ROUND</td><td align='left'>1918</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE MUSIC OF SPAIN</td><td align='left'>1918</td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a></span></p> + + + + +<h1>The<br /> +Merry-Go-Round<br /></h1> + +<h2><i>Carl Van Vechten</i><br /> +<br /> +<br /></h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="title"> +<tr><td align='left'><i><b>"Tournez, tournez, bons chevaux de bois,</b></i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><i><b>Tournez cent tours, tournez mille tours,</b></i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><i><b>Tournez souvent et tournez toujours,</b></i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><i><b>Tournez, tournez au sons de hautbois."</b></i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><span class="smcap"><b>Paul Verlaine</b></span></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/image002.png" width="150" height="114" alt="" title="" /> +<br /> +<br /></p> + +<h3>New York Alfred A. Knopf</h3> + +<h4>MCMXVIII</h4> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a></span></p> + + + + +<p class="center"><small> +COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY<br /> +ALFRED A. KNOPF, <span class="smcap">Inc.</span><br /> +<br /> +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA<br /></small></p> + + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>Contents</h2> + + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="toc"> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='right'><span class="smcap">page</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">In Defence of Bad Taste</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Music and Supermusic</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Edgar Saltus</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The New Art of the Singer</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><i>Au Bal Musette</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Music and Cooking</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">An Interrupted Conversation</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Authoritative Work on American Music</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Old Days and New</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Two Young American Playwrights</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><i>De Senectute Cantorum</i></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Impressions in the Theatre</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">I <i>The Land of Joy</i></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_281">281</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">II A Note on Mimi Aguglia</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_298">298</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">III The New Isadora</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_307">307</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">IV Margaret Anglin Produces <i>As You Like It</i></span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_318">318</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Modern Composers at a Glance</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_329">329</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Footnotes</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_330">330</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Index</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_331">331</a></td></tr> +</table></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a></span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Some of these essays have appeared in "The +Smart Set," "Reedy's Mirror," "Vanity Fair," +"The Chronicle," "The Theatre," "The Bellman," +"The Musical Quarterly," "Rogue," "The +New York Press," and "The New York Globe." +In their present form, however, they have undergone +considerable redressing.</p></div> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="In_Defence" id="In_Defence"></a>In Defence of Bad Taste</h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>"It is a painful thing, at best, to live up to one's +bricabric, if one has any; but to live up to the bricabric +of many lands and of many centuries is a strain +which no wise man would dream of inflicting upon his +constitution."</i></p> + +<p class="author"> +Agnes Repplier.<br /> +</p></div> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="In_Defence_of_Bad_Taste" id="In_Defence_of_Bad_Taste"></a>In Defence of Bad Taste</h2> + + +<p>In America, where men are supposed to know +nothing about matters of taste and where +women have their dresses planned for them, +the household decorator has become an important +factor in domestic life. Out of an even hundred +rich men how many can say that they have had +anything to do with the selection or arrangement +of the furnishings for their homes? In theatre +programs these matters are regulated and due +credit is given to the various firms who have supplied +the myriad appeals to the eye; one knows +who thought out the combinations of shoes, hats, +and parasols, and one knows where each separate +article was purchased. Why could not some +similar plan of appreciation be followed in the +houses of our very rich? Why not, for instance, +a card in the hall something like the following:</p> + +<p> +<i>This house was furnished and decorated according<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">to the taste of Marcel of the Dilly-Billy Shop</span></i><br /> +<br /> +or<br /> +<br /> +<i>We are living in the kind of house Miss Simone<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O'Kelly thought we should live in. The</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">decorations are pure Louis XV and</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">the furniture is authentic.</span></i><br /> +</p> + +<p>It is not difficult, of course, to differentiate the +personal from the impersonal. Nothing clings so +ill to the back as borrowed finery and I have yet +to find the family which has settled itself fondly +and comfortably in chairs which were a part of +some one else's aesthetic plan. As a matter of fact +many of our millionaires would be more at home +in an atmosphere concocted from the ingredients +of plain pine tables and blanket-covered mattresses +than they are surrounded by the frippery of China +and the frivolity of France. If these gentlemen +were fortunate enough to enjoy sufficient confidence +in their own taste to give it a thorough test +it is not safe to think of the extreme burden that +would be put on the working capacity of the factories +of the Grand Rapids furniture companies. +We might find a few emancipated souls scouring +the town for heavy refectory tables and divans into +which one could sink, reclining or upright, with +a perfect sense of ease, but these would be as rare +as Steinway pianos in Coney Island.</p> + +<p>For Americans are meek in such matters. They +credit themselves with no taste. They fear comparison.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +If the very much sought-after Simone +O'Kelly has decorated Mr. B.'s house Mr. M. +does not dare to struggle along with merely his +own ideas in furnishing his. He calls in an expert +who begins, rather inauspiciously, by painting +the dining-room salmon pink. The tables and +chairs will be made by somebody on Tenth Street, +exact copies of a set to be found in the Musée +Carnavalet. The legs under the table are awkwardly +arranged for diners but they look very +well when the table is unclothed. The decorator +plans to hang Mr. M.'s personal bedroom in pale +plum colour. Mr. M. rebels at this. "I detest," +he remarks mildly, "all variants of purple." +"Very well," acquiesces the decorator, "we +will make it green." In the end Mr. M.'s worst +premonitions are realized: the walls are resplendent +in a striking shade of magenta. Along the edge +of each panel of Chinese brocade a narrow band +of absinthe velvet ribbon gives the necessary contrast. +The furniture is painted in dull ivory with +touches of gold and beryl and the bed cover is +peacock blue. Four round cushions of a similar +shade repose on the floor at the foot of the bed. +The fat manufacturer's wife as she enters this +triumph of decoration which might satisfy Louise +de la Vallière or please Doris Keane, is an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>anachronistic +figure and she is aware of it. She prefers, +on the whole, the brass bedsteads of the +summer hotels. Mr. M. himself feels ridiculous. +He never enters the room without a groan and a +remark on the order of "Good God, what a +colour!" His personal taste finds its supreme enjoyment +in the Circassian walnut panelling, desk, +and tables of the directors' room in the Millionaire's +Trust and Savings Bank. "Rich and tasteful": +how many times he has used this phrase to +express his approval! In the mid-Victorian red +plush of his club, too, he is comfortable. +"Waiter, another whiskey and soda!"</p> + +<p>Mildred is expected home after her first year +in boarding school. Her mother wishes to environ +her, so to speak. Mildred is delicate in her tastes, +so delicate that she scarcely ever expresses herself. +Her mind and body are pure; her heart +beats faster when she learns of distress. Voluptuousness, +Venus, and Vice are all merely words to +her. Mother does not explain this to the decorator. +"My daughter is returning from school," +she says, "I want her room done." "What style +of room?" "After all you are supposed to know +that. I am engaging you to arrange it for me." +"Your daughter, I take it, is a modern girl?" +"You may assume as much." In despair for a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +hint the decorator steals a look at a photograph +of the miss, full-lipped, melting dark eyes, and +blue-black hair. Sensing an houri he hangs the +walls with a deep shade of Persian orange, over +which flit tropical birds of emerald and azure; +strange pomegranates bleed their seeds at regular +intervals. The couch is an adaptation, in colour, +of the celebrated <i>Sumurun</i> bed. The dressing +table and the <i>chaise-longue</i> are of Chinese lacquer. +A heavy bronze incense burner pours forth fumes +of Bichara's <i>Scheherazade</i>. From the window +frames, stifling the light, depend flame-coloured +brocaded curtains embroidered in Egyptian +enamelled beads. It is a triumph, this chamber, +of <i>style Ballet Russe</i>. Diana is banished ... +and shrinking Mildred, returning from school, +finds her demure soul at variance with her surroundings.</p> + +<p>A man's house should be the expression of the +man himself. All the books on the subject and +even the household decorators themselves will tell +you that. But, if the decoration of a house is to +express its owner, it is necessary that he himself +inspire it, which implies, of course, the possession +of ideas, even though they be bad. And men in +these United States are not expected to display +mental anguish or pleasure when confronted by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +colour combinations. In America one is constantly +hearing young ladies say, "He's a man +and so, of course, knows nothing about colour," +or "Of course a man never looks at clothes." It +does not seem to be necessary to argue this point. +One has only to remember that Veronese was a +man; so was Velasquez. Even Paul Poiret and +Leon Bakst belong to the sex of Adam. Nevertheless +most Americans still consider it a little +<i>efféminé</i>, a trifle <i>declassé</i>, for a business man (allowances +are sometimes made for poets, musicians, +actors, and people who live in Greenwich Village), +to make any references to colour or form. He +may admire, with obvious emphasis on the women +they lightly enclose, the costumes of the <i>Follies</i> +but he is not permitted to exhibit knowledge of +materials and any suddenly expressed desire on +his part to rush into a shop and hug some bit of +colour from the show window to his heart would be +regarded as a symptom of madness.</p> + +<p>The audience which gives the final verdict on +a farce makes allowances for the author; permits +him the use of certain conventions. For example, +he is given leave to introduce a hotel corridor into +his last act with seven doors opening on a common +hallway so that his characters may conveniently +and persistently enter the wrong rooms.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +It may be supposed that I ask for some such license +from my audience. "How ridiculous," you may +be saying, "I know of interior decorators who +spend weeks in reading out the secrets of their +clients' souls in order to provide their proper +settings." There doubtless are interior decorators +who succeed in giving a home the appearance +of a well-kept hotel where guests may mingle comfortably +and freely. I should not wish to deny +this. But I do deny that soul-study is a requirement +for the profession. If a man (or a woman) +has a soul it will not be a decorator who will discover +its fitting housing. Others may object, +"But bad taste is rampant. Surely it is better +to be guided by some one who knows than to surround +oneself with rocking chairs, plaster casts +of the Winged Victory, and photographs of various +madonnas." I say that it is <i>not</i> better. It is +better for each man to express himself, through his +taste, as well as through his tongue or his pen, +as he may. And it is only through such expression +that he will finally arrive (if he ever can) at +a condition of household furnishing which will say +something to his neighbour as well as to himself. +It is a pleasure when one leaves a dinner party to +be able to observe "That is <i>his</i> house," just as it +is a pleasure when one leaves a concert to remember<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +that a composer has expressed himself and +not the result of seven years study in Berlin or +Paris.</p> + +<p>But Americans have little aptitude for self-expression. +They prefer to huddle, like cattle, under +unspeakable whips when matters of art are +under discussion. They fear ridicule. As a consequence +many of the richest men in this country +never really live in their own homes, never are +comfortable for a moment, although the walls are +hung double with Fragonards and hawthorne +vases stand so deep upon the tables that no space +remains for the "Saturday Review" or "le +Temps." And they never, never, never, will know +the pleasure which comes while stumbling down a +side street in London, or in the mouldy corners of +the Venetian ghetto, or in the Marché du Temple +in Paris, or, heaven knows, in New York, on lower +Fourth Avenue, or in Chinatown, or in a Russian +brass shop on Allen Street, or in a big department +store (as often there as anywhere) in finding +just the lamp for just the table in just the corner, +or in discovering a bit of brocade, perhaps the +ragged remnant of a waistcoat belonging to an +aristocrat of the Directorate, which will lighten +the depths of a certain room, or a chair which +goes miraculously with a desk already possessed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +or a Chinese mirror which one had almost decided +did not exist. Nor will they ever experience the +joy of sudden decision in front of a picture by +Matisse, which ends in the sale of a Delacroix. +Nor can they feel the thrill which is part of the +replacing of a make-shift rug by <i>the</i> rug of rugs +(let us hope it was Solomon's!).</p> + +<p>I know a lady in Paris whose salon presents a +different aspect each summer. Do her Picassos +go, a new Spanish painter has replaced them. +Have you missed the Gibbons carving? Spanish +church carving has taken its place. "And where +are your Venetian embroideries?" "I sold them +to the Marquise de V.... The money served to +buy these Persian miniatures." This lady has +travelled far. She is not experimenting in doubtful +taste or bad art; she is not even experimenting +in her own taste: she is simply enjoying different +epochs, different artists, different forms of art, +each in its turn, for so long as it says anything +to her. Her house is not a museum. Space and +comfort demand exclusion but she excludes nothing +forever that she desires.... She exchanges.</p> + +<p>Taste at best is relative. It is an axiom that +anybody else's taste can never say anything to +you although you may feel perfectly certain that +it is better than your own. If more of the money<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +of the rich were spent in encouraging children to +develop their own ideas in furnishing their own +rooms it would serve a better purpose than it does +now when it is dropped into the ample pockets of +the professional decorators. Oscar Wilde wrote, +"A colour sense is more important in the development +of the individual than a sense of right +and wrong." Any young boy or girl can learn +something about such matters; most of them, if +not shamed out of it, take a natural interest in +their surroundings. You will see how true this +is if you attempt to rearrange a child's room. +Those who have bad taste, relatively, should literally +be allowed to make their own beds. On the +whole it is preferable to be comfortable in red and +green velvet upholstery than to be beautiful and +unhappy in a household decorator's gilded cage.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>September 3, 1915.</i></span><br /> +</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="Music" id="Music"></a>Music and Supermusic</h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>"To know whether you are enjoying a piece of +music or not you must see whether you find yourself +looking at the advertisements of Pears' soap at the +end of the program."</i></p> + +<p class="author"> +Samuel Butler.<br /> +</p></div> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Music_and_Supermusic" id="Music_and_Supermusic"></a>Music and Supermusic</h2> + + +<p>What is the distinction in the mind of +Everycritic between good music and +bad music, in the mind of Everyman +between popular music and "classical" music? +What is the essential difference between an air by +Mozart and an air by Jerome Kern? Why is +Chopin's <i>G minor nocturne</i> better music than +Thécla Badarzewska's <i>La Prière d'une Vierge</i>? +Why is a music drama by Richard Wagner preferable +to a music drama by Horatio W. Parker? +What makes a melody distinguished? What +makes a melody commonplace or cheap? Why +do some melodies ring in our ears generation after +generation while others enjoy but a brief popularity? +Why do certain composers, such as Raff and +Mendelssohn, hailed as geniuses while they were +yet alive, soon sink into semi-obscurity, while +others, such as Robert Franz and Moussorgsky, +almost unrecognized by their contemporaries, +grow in popularity? Are there no answers to +these conundrums and the thousand others that +might be asked by a person with a slight attack +of curiosity?... No one <i>does</i> ask and assuredly +no one answers. These riddles, it would seem, are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +included among the forbidden mysteries of the +sphynx. The critics assert with authority and +some show of erudition that the Spohrs, the +Mendelssohns, the Humperdincks, and the Montemezzis +are great composers. They usually admire +the grandchildren of Old Lady Tradition but they +neglect to justify this partiality. Nor can we +trust the public with its favourite Piccinnis and +Puccinis.... What then is the test of supermusic?</p> + +<p>For we know, as well as we can know anything, +that there is music and supermusic. Rubinstein +wrote music; Beethoven wrote supermusic (Mr. +Finck may contradict this statement). Bellini +wrote operas; Mozart wrote superoperas. Jensen +wrote songs; Schubert wrote supersongs. The +superiority of <i>Voi che sapete</i> as a vocal melody +over <i>Ah! non giunge</i> is not generally contested; +neither can we hesitate very long over the question +whether or not <i>Der Leiermann</i> is a better song +than <i>Lehn' deine Wang'</i>. Probably even Mr. Finck +will admit that the <i>Sonata Appassionata</i> is finer +music than the most familiar portrait (I think it +is No. 22) in the <i>Kamennoi-Ostrow</i> set. But, if +we agree to put Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, Schubert, +and a few others on marmorean pedestals +in a special Hall of Fame (and this is a compromise<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +on my part, at any rate, as I consider much +of the music written by even these men to be below +any moderately high standard), what about the +rest? Mr. Finck prefers Johann Strauss to +Brahms, nay more to Richard himself! He has +written a whole book for no other reason, it would +seem, than to prove that the author of <i>Tod und +Verklärung</i> is a very much over-rated individual. +At times sitting despondently in Carnegie Hall, I +am secretly inclined to agree with him. Personally +I can say that I prefer Irving Berlin's music to +that of Edward MacDowell and I would like to +have some one prove to me that this position is +untenable.</p> + +<p>What is the test of supermusic? I have read +that fashionable music, music composed in a style +welcomed and appreciated by its contemporary +hearers is seldom supermusic. Yet Handel wrote +fashionable music, and so much other of the +music of that epoch is Handelian that it is +often difficult to be sure where George Frederick +left off and somebody else began. Bellini wrote +fashionable music and <i>Norma</i> and <i>La Sonnambula</i> +sound a trifle faded although they are still occasionally +performed, but Rossini, whose only desire +was to please his public, (Liszt once observed +"Rossini and Co. always close with 'I remain your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +very humble servant'"), wrote melodies in <i>Il +Barbiere di Siviglia</i> which sound as fresh to us today as +they did when they were first composed. And +when this prodigiously gifted musician-cook turned +his back to the public to write <i>Guillaume Tell</i> he +penned a work which critics have consistently told +us is a masterpiece, but which is as seldom performed +today as any opera of the early Nineteenth +Century which occasionally gains a hearing at all. +Therefor we must be wary of the old men who tell +us that we shall soon tire of the music of Puccini +because it is fashionable.</p> + +<p>Popularity is scarcely a test. I have mentioned +Mendelssohn. Never was there a more popular +composer, and yet aside from the violin concerto +what work of his has maintained its place in the +concert repertory? Yet Chopin, whose name is +seldom absent from the program of a pianist, was +a god in his own time and the most brilliant woman +of his epoch fell in love with him, as Philip Moeller +has recently reminded us in his very amusing play. +On the other hand there is the case of Robert +Franz whose songs never achieved real popularity +during his lifetime, but which are frequently, +almost invariably indeed, to be found on song recital +programs today and which are more and +more appreciated. The critics are praising him,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +the public likes him: they buy his songs. And +there is also the case of Max Reger who was not +popular, is not popular, and never will be popular.</p> + +<p>Can we judge music by academic standards? +Certainly not. Even the hoary old academicians +themselves can answer this question correctly if +you put it in relation to any composer born before +1820. The greatest composers have seldom +respected the rules. Beethoven in his last sonatas +and string quartets slapped all the pedants in the +ears; yet I believe you will find astonishingly few +rules broken by Mozart, one of the gods in the +mythology of art music, and Berlioz, who broke +all the rules, is more interesting to us today as a +writer of prose than as a writer of music.</p> + +<p>Is simple music supermusic? Certainly not invariably. +<i>Vedrai Carino</i> is a simple tune, almost +as simple as a folk-song and we set great store +by it; yet Michael William Balfe wrote twenty-seven +operas filled with similarly simple tunes and +in a selective draft of composers his number would +probably be 9,768. The <i>Ave Maria</i> of Schubert +is a simple tune; so is the <i>Meditation</i> from <i>Thais</i>. +Why do we say that one is better than the other.</p> + +<p>Or is supermusic always grand, sad, noble, or +emotional? There must be another violent head +shaking here. The air from <i>Oberon, Ocean, thou<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +mighty monster</i>, is so grand that scarcely a singer +can be found today capable of interpreting it, although +many sopranos puff and steam through it, +for all the world like pinguid gentlemen climbing +the stairs to the towers of Notre Dame. The +<i>Fifth Symphony</i> of Beethoven is both grand and +noble; probably no one will be found who will +deny that it is supermusic, but Mahler's <i>Symphony +of the Thousand</i> is likewise grand and noble, and +futile and bombastic to boot. <i>Or sai chi l'onore</i> +is a grand air, but <i>Robert je t'aime</i> is equally +grand in intention, at least. <i>Der Tod und das +Mädchen</i> is sad; so is <i>Les Larmes</i> in <i>Werther</i>.... +But a very great deal of supermusic is neither +grand nor sad. Haydn's symphonies are usually +as light-hearted and as light-waisted as possible. +Mozart's <i>Figaro</i> scarcely seems to have a care. +Listen to Beethoven's <i>Fourth</i> and <i>Eighth Symphonies</i>, +<i>Il Barbiere</i> again, <i>Die Meistersinger</i>.... +But do not be misled: Massenet's <i>Don Quichotte</i> +is light music; so is Mascagni's <i>Lodoletta</i>....</p> + +<p>Is music to be prized and taken to our hearts +because it is contrapuntal and complex? We frequently +hear it urged that Bach (who was more or +less forgotten for a hundred years, by the way) +was the greatest of composers and his music is especially +intricate. He is the one composer, indeed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +who can <i>never</i> be played with one finger! +But poor unimportant forgotten Max Reger also +wrote in the most complicated forms; the great +Gluck in the simplest. Gluck, indeed, has even +been considered weak in counterpoint and fugue. +Meyerbeer, it is said, was also weak in counterpoint +and fugue. Is he therefor to be regarded +as the peer of Gluck? Is Mozart's <i>G minor Symphony</i> +more important (because it is more complicated) +than the same composer's, <i>Batti, Batti</i>?</p> + +<p>We learn from some sources that music stands +or falls by its melody but what is good melody? +According to his contemporaries Wagner's music +dramas were lacking in melody. <i>Sweet Marie</i> is +certainly a melody; why is it not as good a melody +as <i>The Old Folks at Home</i>? Why is Musetta's +waltz more popular than Gretel's? It is no better +as melody. As a matter of fact there is, has +been, and for ever will be war over this question +of melody, because the point of view on the subject +is continually changing. As Cyril Scott puts it +in his book, "The Philosophy of Modernism": "at +one time it (melody) extended over a few bars +and then came to a close, being, as it were, a kind +of sentence, which, after running for the moment, +arrived at a full stop, or semicolon. Take this +and compare it with the modern tendency: for that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +modern tendency is to argue that a melody might +go on indefinitely almost; there is no reason why +it should come to a full stop, for it is not a sentence, +but more a line, which, like the rambling incurvations +of a frieze, requires no rule to stop +it, but alone the will and taste of its engenderer."</p> + +<p>Or is harmonization the important factor? +Folk-songs are not harmonized at all, and yet +certain musicians, Cecil Sharp for example, devote +their lives to collecting them, while others, +like Percy Grainger, base their compositions on +them. On the other hand such music as Debussy's +<i>Iberia</i> depends for its very existence on its beautiful +harmonies. The harmonies of Gluck are extremely +simple, those of Richard Strauss extremely +complex.</p> + +<p>H. T. Finck says somewhere that one of the +greatest charms of music is modulation but the +old church composers who wrote in the "modes" +never modulated at all. Erik Satie seldom avails +himself of this modern device. It is a question +whether Leo Ornstein modulates. If we may take +him at his word Arnold Schoenberg has a system +of modulation. At least it is his very own.</p> + +<p>Are long compositions better than short ones? +This may seem a silly question but I have read +criticisms based on a theory that they were.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +Listen, for example, to de Quincy: "A song, an +air, a tune,—that is, a short succession of notes +revolving rapidly upon itself,—how could that by +possibility offer a field of compass sufficient for +the development of great musical effects? The +preparation pregnant with the future, the remote +correspondence, the questions, as it were, which +to a deep musical sense are asked in one passage, +and answered in another; the iteration and ingemination +of a given effect, moving through subtile +variations that sometimes disguise the theme, +sometimes fitfully reveal it, sometimes throw it out +tumultuously to the daylight,—these and ten +thousand forms of self-conflicting musical passion—what +room could they find, what opening, for +utterance, in so limited a field as an air or song?" +After this broadside permit me to quote a verse +of Gérard de Nerval:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>"Il est un air pour qui je donnerais</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Tout Rossini, tout Mozart, et tout Weber,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Un air très-vieux, languissant et funèbre,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Qui pour moi seul a des charmes secrets."</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And now let us dispassionately, if possible, regard +the evidence. Richard Strauss's <i>Alpine Symphony</i>, +admittedly one of his weakest works and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +considered very tiresome even by ardent Straussians, +plays for nearly an hour while any one can +sing <i>Der Erlkönig</i> in three minutes. Are short +compositions better than long ones? Answer: +<i>Love me and the World is Mine</i> is a short song +(although it seldom sounds so) while Schubert's +<i>C major Symphony</i> is called the "symphony of +heavenly length."</p> + +<p>Is what is new better than what is old? Is +what is old better than what is new? Schoenberg +is new; is he therefor to be considered better than +Beethoven? Stravinsky is new; is he therefor to +be considered worse than Liszt?</p> + +<p>Is an opera better than a song? Compare +<i>Pagliacci</i> and Strauss's <i>Ständchen</i>. Is a string +quartet better than a piece for the piano? But +I grow weary.... Under the circumstances it +would seem that if you have any strong opinions +about music you are perfectly entitled to them, +for the critics do not agree and you will find many +of them basing their criticism on some of the +various hypotheses I have advanced. H. T. Finck +tells us that the sonata form is illogical, forgetting +perhaps that once it served its purpose; Jean +Marnold dubbed <i>Armide</i> an <i>œuvre bâtarde</i>; John +F. Runciman called <i>Parsifal</i> "decrepit stuff," +while Ernest Newman assures us that it is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +"marvellous"; Pierre Lalo and Philip Hale disagree +on the subject of Debussy's <i>La Mer</i> while +W. J. Henderson and James Huneker wrangle over +Richard Strauss's <i>Don Quixote</i>.</p> + +<p>The clue to the whole matter lies in a short +phrase: Imitative work is always bad. Music +that tries to be something that something else has +been may be thrown aside as worthless. It will +not endure although it may sometimes please the +zanies and jackoclocks of a generation. The +critic, therefor, who comes nearest to the heart of +the matter, is he who, either through instinct +or familiarity with the various phenomena of +music, is able to judge of a work's originality. +There must be individuality in new music to make +it worthy of our attention, and that, after all +is all that matters. For the tiniest folk-song +often persists in the hearts and minds of the people, +often stirs the pulse of a musician, pursuing +its tuneful way through two centuries, while a +mighty thundering symphony of the same period +may lie dead and rotting, food for the Niptus +Hololencus and the Blatta Germanica. We still +sing <i>The Old Folks At Home</i> and <i>Le Cycle du Vin</i> +but we have laid aside <i>Di Tanti Palpiti</i>. Any +piece of music possessing the certain magic power +of individuality is of value, it matters not whether<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +it be symphony or song, opera or dance. What +most critics have forgotten is that in Music matter, +form, and idea are one. In painting, in +poetry the idea, the words, the form, may be separated; +each may play its part, but in music there +is no idea without form, no form without idea. +That is what makes musical criticism difficult.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>January 24, 1918.</i></span></p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="Edgar" id="Edgar"></a>Edgar Saltus</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><i>"O no, we never mention him,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>His name is never heard!"</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Old Ballad.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Edgar_Saltus" id="Edgar_Saltus"></a>Edgar Saltus</h2> + + +<p>To write about Edgar Saltus should be <i>vieux +jeu</i>. The man is an American; he was +born in 1858; he accomplished some of his +best work in the Eighties and the Nineties, in the +days when mutton-legged sleeves, whatnots, +Rogers groups, cat-tails, peacock feathers, Japanese +fans, musk-mellon seed collars, and big-wheeled +bicycles were in vogue. He has written +history, fiction, poetry, literary criticism, and +philosophy, and to all these forms he has brought +sympathy, erudition, a fresh point of view, and +a radiant style. He has imagination and he understands +the gentle art of arranging facts in +kaleidoscopic patterns so that they may attract +and not repel the reader. America, indeed, has +not produced a round dozen authors who equal +him as a brilliant stylist with a great deal to say. +And yet this man, who wrote some of his best books +in the Eighties and who is still alive, has been allowed +to drift into comparative oblivion. Even +his early reviewers shoved him impatiently aside +or ignored him altogether; a writer in "Belford's +Magazine" for July, 1888, says: "Edgar Saltus +should have his name changed to Edgar Assaulted."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +Soon he became a literary leper. The +doctors and professors would have none of him. +To most of them, nowadays, I suppose, he is only +a name. Many of them have never read any of +his books. I do not even remember to have seen +him mentioned in the works of James Huneker +and you will not find his name in Barrett Wendell's +"A History of American Literature" +(1901), "A Reader's History of American Literature" +by Thomas Wentworth Higginson and +Henry Walcott Boynton (1903), Katherine Lee +Bates's "American Literature" (1898), "A +Manual of American Literature," edited by Theodore +Stanton (1909), William B. Cairns's "A +History of American Literature" (1912), William +Edward Simonds's "A Student's History of +American Literature" (1909), Fred Lewis Pattee's +"A History of American Literature Since +1870" (1915), John Macy's "The Spirit of +American Literature" (1913), or William Lyon +Phelps's "The Advance of the English Novel" +(1916). The third volume of "The Cambridge +History of American Literature," bringing the +subject up to 1900, has not yet appeared but I +should be amazed to discover that the editors had +decided to include Saltus therein. Curiously +enough he is mentioned in Oscar Fay Adams's "A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +Dictionary of American Authors" (1901 edition) +and, of all places, I have found a reference to +him in one of Agnes Repplier's books.</p> + +<p>You will find few essays about the man or his +work in current or anterior periodicals. There +is, to be sure, the article by Ramsay Colles, +entitled "A Publicist: Edgar Saltus," published +in the "Westminster Magazine" for October, +1904, but this essay could have won our author no +adherents. If any one had the courage to wade +through its muddy paragraphs he doubtless +emerged vowing never to read Saltus. Besides +only the novels are touched on. In 1903 G. F. +Monkshood and George Gamble arranged a compilation +from Saltus's work which they entitled +"Wit and Wisdom from Edgar Saltus" (Greening +and Co., London). The work is done without +sense or sensitiveness and the prefatory essay +is without salt or flavour of any sort. An +anonymous writer in "Current Literature" for +July, 1907, asks plaintively why this author has +been permitted to remain in obscurity and quotes +from some of the reviews. In "The Philistine" +for October, 1907, Elbert Hubbard takes a hand +in the game. He says, "Edgar Saltus is the best +writer in America—with a few insignificant exceptions," +but he deplores the fact that Saltus<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +knows nothing about the cows and chickens; only +cities and gods seem to interest him. Still there +is some atmosphere in this study, which is devoted +to one book, "The Lords of the Ghostland." In +the New York Public Library four of Saltus's +books and one of his translations (about one-sixth +of his published work) are listed. You may +also find there in a series of volumes entitled "Nations +of the World" his supplementary chapters +bringing the books up to date. That is all.</p> + +<p>All these years, of course, Saltus has had his +admiring circle,<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> people of intelligence, of whom, +unfortunately, I cannot say that I was one. +These, who have been content to read and admire +without spreading the news, may well be inclined +to regard my performance as repetitive and impertinent. +Of these I must crave indulgence and +of Saltus himself too. For he, knowing how well +he has done his work, must sit like Buddha, ironic +and indulgent, smiling on the poor benighted who +have yet to approach his altars. Once, at least, +he spoke: "A book that pleases no one may be +poor. The book that pleases every one is detestable."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + +<p>I seem to remember to have heard his name all +my life, but until recently I have not read one +line concerning or by him. I find that my friends, +many of whom are extensive readers, are in the +same sad state of ignorance. There is an exception +and that exception is responsible for my conversion. +For six years, no less, Edna Kenton has +been urging me to read Edgar Saltus. She has +been gently insinuating but firm. None of us can +struggle forever against fate or a determined +woman. In the end I capitulated, purchased a +book by Edgar Saltus at random, and read it +... at one sitting. I sought for more. As most +of his books are out of print and as the list in +the Public Library conspicuously omits all but +one of his best <i>opera</i> the matter presented difficulties. +However, a little diligent search in the +old book shops accomplished wonders. In less +than two weeks I had dug up twenty-two titles +and in less than two weeks I had read twenty-four; +since then I have consumed the other four. +There are few writers in American or any other +literature who can survive such a test; there are +few writers who have given me such keen pleasure.</p> + +<p>The events of his life, mostly remain shrouded +in mystery. His comings and goings are not reported +in the newspapers; he does not make public<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +speeches; and his name is seldom, if ever, mentioned +"among those present." That he has been +married and has one daughter "Who's Who" +proclaims, together with the few biographical details +mentioned below. That is all. May we not +herein find some small explanation for his apparent +neglect? Many thousands of lesser men +have lifted themselves to "literary" prominence +by blowing their own tubas and striking their own +crotals. Even in the case of a man of such manifest +genius as George Bernard Shaw we may +be permitted to doubt if he would be so well known, +had he not taken the trouble to erect monuments +to himself on every possible occasion in every +possible location. Fame is a quaint old-fashioned +body, who loves to be pursued. She seldom, +if ever, runs after anybody except in her well-known +rôle of necrophile.</p> + +<p>Edgar Evertson Saltus was born in New York +City June 8, 1858. He is a lineal descendant of +Admiral Kornelis Evertson, the commander of the +Dutch fleet, who captured New York from the English, +August 9, 1673. Francis Saltus, the poet, +was his brother. He enjoyed a cosmopolitan education +which may be regarded as an important +factor in the development of his tastes and ideas. +From St. Paul's School in Concord he migrated to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +the Sorbonne in Paris, and thence to Heidelberg +and Munich, where he bathed in the newer Germanic +philosophies. Finally he took a course of +law at Columbia University. The influence of +this somewhat heterogeneous seminary life is manifest +in all his future writing. Beginning, no +doubt, as a disciple of Emerson in New England, +he fell under the spell of Balzac in Paris, of +Schopenhauer and von Hartmann in Germany. +Pages might be brought forward as evidence that +he had a thorough classical education. His +knowledge of languages made it easy for him to +drink deeply at many fountain heads. If Oscar +Wilde found his chief inspiration in Huysmans's +"A Rebours," it is certain that Saltus also quaffed +intoxicating draughts at this source. Indeed in +one of his books he refers to Huysmans as his +friend. It is further apparent that he is acquainted +with the works of Barbey d'Aurevilly, +Josephin Péladan,<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> Baudelaire, Mallarmé, Verlaine, +Arthur Rimbaud, Catulle Mendès, and Jules +Laforgue, especially the Laforgue of the "Moralités +Legendaires." His kinship with these writers +is near, but through this mixed blood run strains +inherited from the early pagans, the mediaeval<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +monks, the Germanic philosophers, and London of +the Eighteen Nineties (although there is not one +word about Saltus in Holbrook Jackson's book of +the period), and perhaps, after all, his nearest literary +relative was an American, Edgar Allan Poe, +who bequeathed to him a garret full of strange +odds and ends. But Saltus surpasses Poe in almost +every respect save as a poet.</p> + +<p>Joseph Hergesheimer has expressed a theory to +the effect that great art is always provincial, never +cosmopolitan; that only provincial art is universal +in its appeal. Like every other theory this one is +to a large extent true, but Hergesheimer in his arbitrary +summing up, has forgotten the fantastic. +The fantastic in literature, in art of any kind, can +never be provincial. The work of Poe is not provincial; +nor is that of Gustave Moreau, an artist +with whom Edgar Saltus can very readily be compared. +If you have visited the Musée Moreau in +Paris where, in the studio of the dead painter, is +gathered together the most complete collection of +his works, which lend themselves to endless inspection, +you can, in a sense, reconstruct for yourself +an idea of the works of Edgar Saltus. One finds +therein the same unicorns, the same fabulous monsters, +the same virgins on the rocks, the same exotic +and undreamed of flora and fauna, the same<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +mystic paganism, the same exquisitely jewelled +workmanship. One can find further analogies in +the Aubrey Beardsley of "Under the Hill," in the +elaborate stylized irony of Max Beerbohm. +Surely not provincials these, but just as surely +artists.</p> + +<p>Moreover Saltus's style may be said to possess +American characteristics. It is dashing and +rapid, and as clear as the water in Southern seas. +The man has a penchant for short and nervous +sentences, but they are never jerky. They explode +like so many firecrackers and remind one +of the great national holiday!... Nevertheless +Edgar Saltus should have been born in France.</p> + +<p>His essays, whether they deal with literary +criticism, history, religion (which is almost an +obsession with this writer), devil-worship, or cooking, +are pervaded by that rare quality, charm. +Somewhere he quotes a French aphorism:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>Etre riche n'est pas l'affaire,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Toute l'affaire est de charmer</i>,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>which might be applied to his own work. There +is a deep and beneficent guile in the simplicity of +his style, as limpid as a brook, and yet, as over a +brook, in its overtones hover a myriad of sparkling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +dragon-flies and butterflies; in its depths lie +a plethora of trout. He deals with the most obstruse +and abstract subjects with such ease and +grace, without for one moment laying aside the +badge of authority, that they assume a mysterious +fascination to catch the eye of the passerby. +In his fictions he has sometimes cultivated a more +hectic style, but that in itself constitutes one of +the bases of its richness. Scarcely a word but +evokes an image, a strange, bizarre image, often a +complication of images. He is never afraid of +the colloquial, never afraid of slang even, and he +often weaves lovely patterns with obsolete or technical +words. These lines, in which Saltus paid +tribute to Gautier, he might, with equal justice, +have applied to himself: "No one could torment +a fancy more delicately than he; he had the gift of +adjective; he scented a new one afar like a truffle; +and from the Morgue of the dictionary he dragged +forgotten beauties. He dowered the language of +his day with every tint of dawn and every convulsion +of sunset; he invented metaphors that were +worth a king's ransom, and figures of speech that +deserve the Prix Montyon. Then reviewing his +work, he formulated an axiom which will go down +with a nimbus through time: Whomsoever a +thought however complex, a vision however apocalyptic,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +surprises without words to convey it, is not +a writer. The inexpressible does not exist." It +is impossible to taste at this man's table. One +must eat the whole dinner to appreciate its opulent +inevitability. Still I may offer a few olives, a +branch or two of succulent celery to those who +have not as yet been invited to sit down. One of +his ladies walks the Avenue in a gown the "color of +fried smelts." Such figurative phrases as "Her +eyes were of that green-grey which is caught in +an icicle held over grass," "The sand is as fine as +face powder, <i>nuance</i> Rachel, packed hard," +"Death, it may be, is not merely a law but a place, +perhaps a garage which the traveller reaches on a +demolished motor, but whence none can proceed +until all old scores are paid," "The ocean resembled +nothing so much as an immense blue syrup," +"She was a pale freckled girl, with hair the shade +of Bavarian beer," "The sun rose from the ocean +like an indolent girl from her bath," "Night, that +queen who reigns only when she falls, shook out the +shroud she wears for gown," are to be found on +every page. Certain phrases sound good to him +and are re-used: "Disappearances are deceptive," +"ruedelapaixian" (to describe a dress), +"toilet of the ring" (lifted from the bull-fight in +"Mr. Incoul's Misadventure" to do service in an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +account of the arena games under Nero in "Imperial +Purple"), but repetition of this kind is infrequent +in his works and seemingly unnecessary. +Ideas and phrases, endless chains of them, spurt +from the point of his ardent pen. Standing on his +magic carpet he shakes new sins out of his sleeve as +a conjurer shakes out white rabbits and juggles +words with an exquisite dexterity. He is, indeed, +the <i>jongleur de notre âme</i>!</p> + +<p>From the beginning, his style has attracted the +attention of the few and no one, I am sure, has +ever written a three line review of a book by +Saltus without referring to it. Mme. Amélie +Rives has quoted Oscar Wilde as saying to her one +night at dinner, "In Edgar Saltus's work passion +struggles with grammar on every page!" Percival +Pollard has dubbed him a "prose paranoiac," +and Elbert Hubbard says, "He writes so well that +he grows enamoured of his own style and is subdued +like the dyer's hand; he becomes intoxicated +on the lure of lines and the roll of phrases. He +is woozy on words—locoed by syntax and prosody. +The libation he pours is flavoured with euphues. +It is all like a cherry in a morning Martini." +A phrase which Remy de Gourmont uses +to describe Villiers de l'Isle Adam might be applied +with equal success to the author of "The Lords of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +the Ghostland": "<i>L'idéalisme de Villiers était un +véritable idéalisme verbal, c'est-à-dire qu'il croyait +vraiment à la puissance évocatrice des mots, à +leur vertu magique.</i>" And we may listen to Saltus's +own testimony in the matter: "It may be +noted that in literature only three things count, +style, style polished, style repolished; these +imagination and the art of transition aid, but do +not enhance. As for style, it may be defined as the +sorcery of syllables, the fall of sentences, the use +of the exact term, the pursuit of a repetition +even unto the thirtieth and fortieth line. Grammar +is an adjunct but not an obligation. No +grammarian ever wrote a thing that was fit to +read."</p> + +<p>At his worst—and his worst can be monstrous!—garbed +fantastically in purple patches and +gaudy rags, he wallows in muddy puddles of Burgundy +and gold dust; even then he is unflagging +and holds the attention in a vise. His women +have eyes which are purple pools, their hair is +bitten by combs, their lips are scarlet threads. +Even the names of his characters, Roanoke Raritan, +Ruis Ixar, Tancred Ennever, Erastus Varick, +Gulian Verplank, Melancthon Orr, Justine Dunnellen, +Roland Mistrial, Giselle Oppensheim, Yoda +Jones, Stella Sixmuth, Violet Silverstairs, Sallie<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +Malakoff, Shane Wyvell, Dugald Maule, Eden +Menemon (it will be observed that he has a persistent, +balefully procacious, perhaps, indeed, +Freudian predilection for the letters U, V, and +X),<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> are fantastic and fabulous ... sometimes +almost frivolous. And here we may find our +paradox. His sense of humour is abnormal, +sometimes expressed directly by way of epigram +or sly wording but may it not also occasionally +express itself indirectly in these purple +towers of painted velvet words, extravagant +fables, and unbelievable characters he is so fond of +erecting? Some of his work almost approaches +the burlesque in form. He carries his manner to +a point where he seems to laugh at it himself, and +then, with a touch of poignant realism or a poetic +phrase, he confounds the reader's judgment. The +virtuosity of the performance is breath-taking!</p> + +<p>He is always the snob (somewhere he defends the +snob in an essay): rich food ("half-mourning" +[artichoke hearts and truffles], "filet of reindeer," +a cygnet in its plumage bearing an orchid in its +beak, "heron's eggs whipped with wine into an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +amber foam," "mashed grasshoppers baked in +saffron"), rich clothes, rich people interest him. +There is no poverty in his books. His creatures +do not toil. They cut coupons off bonds. Sometimes +they write or paint, but for the most part +they are free to devote themselves exclusively to +the pursuit of emotional experience, eating, reading, +and travelling the while. And when they +have finished dining they wipe their hands, wetted +in a golden bowl, in the curly hair of a tiny serving +boy. A character in "Madam Sapphira" +explains this tendency: "A writer, if he happens +to be worth his syndicate, never chooses a subject. +The subject chooses him. He writes what +he must, not what he might. That's the thing the +public can't understand."</p> + +<p>There is always a preoccupation with ancient +life, sometimes freely expressed as in "Imperial +Purple," but more often suggested by plot, phrase, +or scene. He kills more people than Caligula +killed during the whole course of his bloody reign. +Murders, suicides, and other forms of sudden death +flash their sensations across his pages. Webster +and the other Elizabethans never steeped themselves +so completely in gore. In almost every book there +is an orgy of death and he has been ingenious in +varying its forms. The poisons of rafflesia,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +muscarine, and orsere are introduced in his fictions; +somewhere he devotes an essay to toxicology. +Daggers with blades like needles, pistols, drownings, +asphyxiations, play their rôles ... and in +one book there is a crucifixion!</p> + +<p>Again I find that Mr. Saltus has said his word +on the subject: "In fiction as in history it is +the shudder that tells. Hugo could find no higher +compliment for Baudelaire than to announce that +the latter had discovered a new one. For new +shudders are as rare as new vices; antiquity has +made them all seem trite. The apt commingling +of the horrible and the trivial, pathos and ferocity, +is yet the one secret of enduring work—a secret, +parenthetically, which Hugo knew as no one else."</p> + +<p>His fables depend in most instances upon sexual +abberrations, curious coincidences, fantastic happenings. +Rapes and incests decorate his pages. +He does not ask us to believe his monstrous +stories; he compels us to. He carries us by +means of the careless expenditure of many passages +of somewhat ribald beauty, along with him, +captive to his pervasive charm. We are constantly +reminded, in endless, almost wearisome, +imagery, of gold and purple, foreign languages, +esoteric philosophies, foods the names of which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +strike the ear as graciously as they themselves +might strike the tongue. From Huysmans he has +learned the formula for ravishing all our senses. +Words are often used for their own sakes to call +up images, colour flits across every page, across, +indeed, every line. We taste, we smell, we see. +There is the pomp and circumstance of the Roman +Catholic ritual in these pages, the Roman Catholic +ritual well supplied with mythical monsters, singing +flowers, and blooming women. Strange scarlet +and mulberry threads form the woof of these +tapestries, threads pulled with great labour from +all the art of the past. There is, in much of his +work, an undercurrent of subtle sensuous erotic +poison; in one of her stories Edna Kenton tells us +that <i>chartreuse jaune</i> and bananas form such a +poison. There is a suggestion of <i>chartreuse jaune</i> +and bananas in much of the work of Edgar Saltus.</p> + +<p>He is constantly obsessed by the mysteries of +love and death, the veils of Isis, the secrets of +Moses. While others were delving in the American +soil his soul sped afar; he is not even a cosmopolitan; +he is a Greek, a Brahmin, a worshipper +of Ishtar. There is a prodigious and prodigal +display of genius in his work, savannahs of epigrams, +forests of ideas, phrases enough to fill the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +ocean.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> There is enough material in the romances +of Edgar Saltus to furnish all the cinema companies +in America with scenarios for a twelve-month.</p> + +<p>Early in the Eighties a writer in "The Argus" +referred to him as "the prose laureate of pessimism." +His philosophy may be summed up in a +few phrases: Nothing matters, Whatever will be +is, Everything is possible, and Since we live today +let us make the best of it and live in Paris. And +through all the <i>opera</i> of Saltus, through the rapes +and murders, the religious, philosophical, and social +discussions, rings Cherubino's still unanswered +question, <i>Che cosa e amor?</i> like a persistent refrain.</p> + +<p>After having said so much it seems unnecessary +to add that I strongly advise the reader to go out +and buy all the books of Edgar Saltus he can +find (and to find many will require patience and +dexterity, as most of them are out of print). To +further aid him in the matter I have prepared a +short catalogue and with his permission I will +guide him gently through this new land. I have +also added a list of publishers, together with the +dates of publication, although I cannot, in some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +instances, vouch for their having been the original +imprints. It may be noted that almost all his +books have been reprinted in England.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> + +<p>"Balzac,"<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> signed Edgar Evertson Saltus (for +a time he used his full name) is such good literary +criticism and such good personal biography that +one wishes the author had tried the form again. +He did not save in his prefaces to his translations, +his essay on Victor Hugo, and his short study of +Oscar Wilde. In its miniature way, for the book +is slight, "Balzac" is as good of its kind as James +Huneker's "Chopin," Auguste Ehrhard's "Fanny +Elssler," and Frank Harris's "Oscar Wilde." In +style it is superior to any of these. It is a very +pretty performance for a début and if it is out +of print, as I think it is, some enterprising publisher +should serve it to the public in a new edition. +The two most interesting chapters, largely anecdotal +but continuously illuminating, are entitled +"The Vagaries of Genius," wherein one may find +an infinitude of details concerning the manner in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +which Balzac worked, and "The Chase for Gold," +but tucked in somewhere else is a charming digression +about realism in fiction and the bibliography +should still be of use to students. Saltus tells +us that Balzac took all his characters' names from +life, frequently from signs which he observed on the +street. In this respect Saltus certainly has not +followed him; in another he has been more imitative: +I refer to the Balzacian trick of carrying +people from one book to another.</p> + +<p>"The Philosophy of Disenchantment"<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> is an +ingratiating account of the pessimism of Schopenhauer, +a philosophy with which it would seem, Saltus +is fully in accord. Two-thirds of the book is +allotted to Schopenhauer, but the remainder is +devoted to an exposition of the teachings of von +Hartmann and a final essay, "Is Life an Affliction?" +which query the author seems to answer in +the affirmative. One of the best-known of the +Saltus books, "The Philosophy of Disenchantment" +is written in a clear, translucent style +without the iridescence which decorates his later +<i>opera</i>.</p> + +<p>"After-Dinner Stories from Balzac, done into +English by Myndart Verelst (obviously E. S.)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +with an introduction by Edgar Saltus"<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> contains +four of the Frenchman's tales, "The Red Inn," +"Madame Firmiani," "The 'Grande Bretèche'," +and "Madame de Beauséant." The introduction +is written in Saltus's most beguiling manner and +may be referred to as one of the most delightful +short essays on Balzac extant. The dedication is +to V. A. B.</p> + +<p>"The Anatomy of Negation"<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> is Saltus's best +book in his earlier manner, which is as free from +flamboyancy as early Gothic, and one of his most +important contributions to our literature. The +work is a history of antitheism from Kapila to +Leconte de Lisle and, while the writer in a brief +prefatory notice disavows all responsibility for +the opinions of others, it can readily be felt that +the book is a labour of love and that his sympathy +lies with the iconoclasts through the centuries. +The chapter entitled, "The Convulsions of the +Church," a brief history of Christianity, is one of +the most brilliant passages to be found in any of +the works of this very brilliant writer. Indeed, if +you are searching for the soul of Saltus you could +not do better than turn to this chapter. Of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +Jesus he says, "He was the most entrancing of +nihilists but no innovator." Here is another excerpt: +"Paganism was not dead; it had merely +fallen asleep. Isis gave way to Mary; apotheosis +was replaced by canonization; the divinities were +succeeded by saints; and, Africa aiding, the +Church surged from mythology with the Trinity +for tiara." Again: "Satan was Jew from horn +to hoof. The registry of his birth is contained in +the evolution of Hebraic thought." Never was +any book so full of erudition and ideas so easy to +read, a fascinating <i>opus</i>, written by a true sceptic. +Following the Baedeker system, adopted so +amusingly by Henry T. Finck in his "Songs and +Song Writers," this book should be triple-starred.</p> + +<p>"Tales before Supper, from Théophile Gautier +and Prosper Mérimée, told in English by Myndart +Verelst and delayed with a proem by Edgar Saltus."<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> +Translation again. The stories are +"Avatar" and "The Venus of Ille." The essay +at the beginning is a very charming performance. +This book is dedicated to E. C. R.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Incoul's Misadventure,"<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> Saltus's first +novel, is also the best of his numerous fictions. It, +too, should be triple-starred in any guide book<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +through this <i>opus</i>-land. In it will be found, super-distilled, +the very essence of all the best qualities +of this writer. It is written with fine reserve; +the story holds; the characters are unusually well +observed, felt, and expressed. Irony shines +through the pages and the final cadence includes a +murder and a suicide. For the former, bromide +of potassium and gas are utilized in combination; +for the latter laudanum, taken hypodermically, +suffices. There are scenes in Biarritz and Northern +Spain which include a thrilling picture of a +bull-fight. There is an interesting glimpse of the +Paris Opéra. There is a description of an epithumetic +library which embraces many forbidden +titles, (How that "baron of moral endeavour ... the +professional hound of heaven," Anthony Comstock, +would have gloated over these shelves!), a +vibrant page about Goya, and another about a +Thibetian cat. Many passages could be brought +forward as evidence that Mr. Saltus loves the fire-side +sphynx. The Mr. Incoul of the title gives one +a very excellent idea of how inhuman a just man +can be. There is not a single slip in the skilful +delineation of this monster. The beautiful heroine +vaguely shambles into a tapestried background. +She is <i>moyen age</i> in her appealing weakness. The +<i>jeune premier</i>, Lenox Leigh, is well drawn and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +lighted. Time after time the author strikes subtle +harmonies which must have delighted Henry +James. Why is this book not dedicated to +author of "The Turn of the Screw" rather than +to "E. A. S."? The pages are permeated with +suspense, horror, information, irony, and charm, +about evenly distributed, all of which qualities are +expressed in the astounding title (astounding after +you have read the book). There is a white marriage +in this tale, stipulated in the hymeneal bond. +In 1877 Tschaikovsky made a similar agreement +with the woman he married.</p> + +<p>"The Truth About Tristrem Varick"<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> is written +with the same restraint which characterizes the +style of "Mr. Incoul's Misadventure," a restraint +seldom to be encountered in Saltus's later fictions. +One of the angles of the plot in which an irate +father attempts to suppress a marriage by suggesting +incest, bobs up twice again in his stories, +for the last time nearly thirty years later in +"The Monster." Irony is the keynote of the +work, a keynote sounded in the dedication, "To +my master, the philosopher of the unconscious, +Eduard von Hartmann, this attempt in ornamental +disenchantment is dutifully inscribed." The +heroine, as frequently happens with Saltus heroines,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +is veiled with the mysteries of Isis; we do +not see the workings of her mind and so we can +sympathize with Varick, who pursues her with +persistent misunderstanding and arduous devotion +through 240 pages. He attributes her aloofness +to his father's unfounded charge against his +mother and her father. When he learns that she +has borne a child he suspects rape and, with a +needle-like dagger that leaves no sign, he kills the +man he believes to have seduced her. Then he +goes to the lady to receive her thanks, only to learn +that she loved the man he has killed. Varick +gives himself into the hands of the police, confesses, +and is delivered to justice, the lady gloating. +A strikingly pessimistic tale, only less good +than "Mr. Incoul." There is superb writing in +these pages, many delightful passages. <i>La Cenerentola</i> +and <i>Lucrezia Borgia</i> are mentioned in passing. +Saltus has (or had) an exuberant fondness +for Donizetti and Rossini. Here is a telling bit +of art criticism (attributed to a character) descriptive +of the Paris Salon: "There was a +Manet or two, a Moreau and a dozen excellent +landscapes, but the rest represented the apotheosis +of mediocrity. The pictures which Gerome, +Cabanel, Bouguereau, and the acolytes of these +pastry-cooks exposed were stupid and sterile as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +church doors." This required courage in 1888. +One wonders where Kenyon Cox was at the time! +Give this book at least two stars.</p> + +<p>"Eden"<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> is the third of Saltus's fictions and +possibly the poorest of the three. Eden is the +name of the heroine whose further name is Menemon. +Stuyvesant Square is her original habitat +but she migrates to Fifth Avenue. The tide is +flowing South again nowadays. Her husband is +almost too good, but nevertheless appearances +seem against him until he explains that the lady +with whom he has been seen in a cab is his daughter +by a former marriage, and the young man who +seems to have been making love to Eden is his son. +Characteristic of Saltus is the use of the Spanish +word for nightingale. There are no deaths, no +suicides, no murders in these pages: a very +eunuch of a book! A motto from Tasso, "<i>Perdute +e tutto il tempo che in amor non si spende</i>" adorns +the title page and the work is dedicated to +"E——H Amicissima."</p> + +<p>With "The Pace that Kills"<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> Saltus doffs his +old coat and dons a new and gaudier garment. +Possibly he owed this change in style to the influence +of the London movement so interestingly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>described +in Holbrook Jackson's "The Eighteen-Nineties." +The book begins with abortion and +ends with a drop over a ferry-boat into the icy +East River. There is an averted strangulation of +a baby and for the second time in a Saltus <i>opus</i> a +dying millionaire leaves his fortune to the St. +Nicholas Hospital. Was Saltus ballyhooing for +this institution? The hero is a modern Don Juan. +Alphabet Jones appears occasionally, as he does in +many of the other novels. This Balzacian trick +obsessed the author for a time. The book is +dedicated to John S. Rutherford and bears as a +motto on its title page this quotation from Rabusson: +"<i>Pourquoi la mort? Dites, plutôt, pourquoi +la vie?</i>"</p> + +<p>In "A Transaction in Hearts"<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> the Reverend +Christopher Gonfallon falls in love with his wife's +sister, Claire. A New England countess, a subsidiary +figure, suggests d'Aurevilly. This story +originally appeared in "Lippincott's Magazine" +and the editor who accepted it was dismissed. A +year or so later a new editor published "The Picture +of Dorian Gray." Still later Saltus tells me +he met Oscar Wilde in London and the Irish poet +asked him for news of the new editor. "He's quite +well," answered Saltus. Wilde did not seem to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +pleased: "When your story appeared the editor +was removed; when mine appeared I supposed he +would be hanged. Now you tell me he is quite +well. It is most disheartening." Saltus then +asked Wilde why Dorian Gray was cut by his +friends. Wilde turned it over. "I fancy they +saw him eating fish with his knife."</p> + +<p>"A Transient Guest and other Episodes"<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> contains +three short tales besides the title story: +"The Grand Duke's Riches," an account of an +ingenious robbery at the Brevoort, "A Maid of +Athens," and "Fausta," a story of love, revenge, +and death in Cuba. If the final cadence of the +book is a dagger thrust the prelude is a subtle poison, +rafflesia, a Sumatran plant, intended for the +hero, Tancred Ennever, but consumed with fatal +results by his faithful fox terrier, Zut Alors. +The story is arresting and, as frequently happens +in Saltus romances, a man finds himself no match +for a woman. "A Transient Guest" is dedicated +to K. J. M.</p> + +<p>The slender volume entitled "Love and Lore"<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> +contains a short series of slight essays, interrupted +by slighter sonnets, on subjects which, for the +most part, Saltus has treated at greater length<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +and with greater effect elsewhere. He makes a +whimsical plea for a modern revival of the Court +of Love and in "Morality in Fiction" he derides +that Puritanism in American letters whose dark +scourge H. L. Mencken still pursues with a cat-o'-nine-tails +and a hand grenade. He gives us a fanciful +set of rules for a novelist which, happily, he +has ignored in his own fictions. The most interesting, +personal, and charming chapter, although +palpably derived from "The Philosophy of Disenchantment," +is that entitled "What Pessimism +Is Not"; here again we are in the heart of the +author's philosophy. Those who like to read +books about the Iberian Peninsula can scarcely +afford to miss "Fabulous Andalucia," in which an +able brief for the race of Othello is presented: +"Under the Moors, Cordova surpassed Baghdad. +They wrote more poetry than all the other nations +put together. It was they who invented rhyme; +they wrote everything in it, contracts, challenges, +treaties, treatises, diplomatic notes and messages +of love. From the earliest khalyf down to Boabdil, +the courts of Granada, of Cordova and of +Seville were peopled with poets, or, as they were +termed, with makers of Ghazels. It was they who +gave us the dulcimer, the hautbois and the guitar; +it was they who invented the serenade. We are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +indebted to them for algebra and for the canons of +chivalry as well.... It was from them that came +the first threads of light which preceded the +Renaissance. Throughout mediaeval Europe they +were the only people that thought." The book is +dedicated to Edgar Fawcett, "perfect poet—perfect +friend" and is embellished with a portrait +of its author.</p> + +<p>"The Story Without a Name"<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> is a translation +of "Une Histoire Sans Nom" of Barbey +d'Aurevilly, and is preceded by one of Saltus's +charming and atmospheric literary essays, the best +on d'Aurevilly to be found in English. When this +book first appeared, Mr. Saltus informs me, a reviewer, +"who contrived to be both amusing and +complimentary," said that Barbey d'Aurevilly was +a fictitious person and that this vile story was +Saltus's own vile work!</p> + +<p>"Mary Magdalen,"<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> on the whole disappointing, +is nevertheless one of the important Saltus +<i>opera</i>. The opening chapters, like Oscar +Wilde's <i>Salome</i> (published two years later than +"Mary Magdalen") owe much to Flaubert's +"Hérodias." The dance on the hands is a detail<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +from Flaubert, a detail which Tissot followed in +his painting of Salome.... From the later chapters +it is possible that Paul Heyse filched an idea. +The turning point of his drama, <i>Maria von Magdala</i>, +hinges on Judas's love for Mary and his +jealousy of Jesus. Saltus develops exactly this +situation. Heyse's play appeared in 1899, eight +years after Saltus's novel. However, Saltus has +protested to me that it is an idea that might have +occurred to any one. "I put it in," he added, "to +make the action more nervous." The book begins +well with a description of Herod's court and Rome +in Judea, but as a whole it is unsatisfactory. +Once the plot develops Saltus seems to lose interest. +He lazily quotes whole scenes from the +Bible (George Moore very cleverly avoided this +pitfall in "The Brook Kerith"). The early +chapters suggest "Imperial Purple," which appeared +a year later and upon which he may well +have been at work at this time. There is a foreshadowing, +too, of "The Lords of the Ghostland" +in a very amusing and slightly cynical passage +in which Mary as a child listens to Sephorah +the sorceress tell legends and myths of Assyria and +Egypt. Mary interrupts with "Why you mean +Moses! You mean Noah!" just as a child of today, +if confronted with the situations in the Greek<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +dramas would attribute them to Bayard Veiller or +Eugene Walter. Saltus is too much of a scholar +to find much novelty in Christianity. But aside +from this passage cynicism is lacking from this +book, a quality which makes another story on the +same theme, "Le Procurateur de Judée," one of +the greatest short stories in any language. +Mary's sins are quickly passed over and we come +almost immediately to her conversion. Herod +Antipas, with his "fan-shaped beard" and vacillating +Pilate, quite comparable to a modern politician, +are the most human and best-realized characters +in a book which should have been greater +than it is. "Mary Magdalen" is dedicated to +Henry James.</p> + +<p>"The facts in the Curious Case of H. Hyrtl, +esq."<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> is a slight yarn in the mellow Stevenson +manner, with a kindly old gentleman as the messenger +of the supernatural who provides the +wherewithal for a marriage between an impoverished +artist, who is painting Heliogabolus's feast +of roses, and his sweet young thing. Quite a +departure this from the usual Saltus manner; +nevertheless there are two deaths, one by shock, +the other in a railway accident. The plot depends<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +on as many impossible entrances and exits +as a Palais Royal farce and the reader is asked +to believe in many coincidences. The book is dedicated +to Lorillard Ronalds who, the author explains +in a few French phrases, asked him to write +something "<i>de très pure et de très chaste, pour une +jeunesse, sans doute</i>." He adds that the story is +a rewriting of a tale which had appeared twenty +years earlier.</p> + +<p>"Imperial Purple"<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> marks the high-tide of +Saltus's peculiar genius. The emperors of imperial +decadent Rome are led by the chains of art +behind the chariot wheels of the poet: Julius +Cæsar, whom Cato called "that woman," Augustus, +Tiberius, Caligula, the wicked Agrippina, for +whom Agnes Repplier named her cat, Claudius, +Nero, Hadrian, Vespasian, down to the incredible +Heliogabolus. Saltus, who has given us many +vivid details concerning the lives of his predecessors, +seemingly falters at this dread name, but only +seemingly. More can be found about this extraordinary +and perverse emperor in Lombard's +"L'Agonie" and in Franz Blei's "The Powder +Puff," but, although Saltus is brief, he evokes an +atmosphere and a picture in a few short paragraphs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +The sheer lyric quality of this book has +remained unsurpassed by this author. Indeed it is +rare in all literature. Page after page that Walter +Pater, Oscar Wilde, or J. K. Huysmans might +have been glad to sign might be set before you. +The man writes with invention, with sap, with +urge. Our eyes are not clogged with foot-notes +and references. It is plain that our author has +delved in the "Scriptores Historiæ Augustæ," +that he has read Lampridius, Suetonius, and the +others, but he does not strive to make us aware of +it. The historical form has at last found a poet +to render it supportable. Blood runs across the +pages; gore and booty are the principal themes; +and yet Beauty struts supreme through the horror. +The author's sympathy is his password, a +sympathy which he occasionally exposes, for he +is not above pinning his heart to his sleeve, as, for +example, when he says, "In spite of Augustus's +boast, the city was not by any means of marble. +It was filled with crooked little streets, with the +atrocities of the Tarquins, with houses unsightly +and perilous, with the moss and dust of ages; it +compared with Alexandria as London compares +with Paris; it had a splendour of its own, but a +splendour that could be heightened." Here is a +picture of squalid Rome: "In the subura, where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +at night women sat in high chairs, ogling the +passer with painted eyes, there was still plenty of +brick; tall tenements, soiled linen, the odor of +Whitechapel and St. Giles. The streets were noisy +with match-pedlars, with vendors of cake and +tripe and coke; there were touts there too, altars +to unimportant divinities, lying Jews who dealt in +old clothes, in obscene pictures and unmentionable +wares; at the crossings there were thimbleriggers, +clowns and jugglers, who made glass balls appear +and disappear surprisingly; there were doorways +decorated with curious invitations, gossipy barber +shops, where, through the liberality of politicians, +the scum of a great city was shaved, curled and +painted free; and there were public houses, where +vagabond slaves and sexless priests drank the +mulled wine of Crete, supped on the flesh of beasts +slaughtered in the arena, or watched the Syrian +women twist to the click of castanets." The account +of the arena under Nero should not be +missed, but it is too long to quote here. The +book, which we give three stars, is dedicated to +Edwin Albert Schroeder. Fortunately, of all Saltus's +works, it is the most readily procurable.</p> + +<p>"Imperial Purple" has had a curious history. +Belford, Clarke and Co., who hid their identity +behind the "Morrill, Higgins" imprint, failed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +shortly after they had issued the book. "Presently," +Mr. Saltus writes me, "a Chicago bibliofilou +brought it out as the work of some one else +and called it 'The Sins of Nero.'" Meanwhile +Greening published it in London and finally +Mitchell Kennerley reprinted it in New York. +In 1911 Macmillan in London brought out "The +Amazing Emperor Heliogabolus" by the Reverend +John Stuart Hay of Oxford. In the preface +to this book I found the following: "I have +also the permission of Mr. E. E. Saltus of Harvard +University (<i>sic</i>) to quote his vivid and beautiful +studies on the Roman Empire and her customs. +I am also deeply indebted to Mr. Walter +Pater, Mr. J. A. Symonds, and Mr. Saltus for +many a <i>tournure de phrase</i> and picturesque rendering +of Tacitus, Suetonious, Lampridius, and the +rest." The Reverend Doctor certainly helped +himself to "Imperial Purple." Words, sentences, +nay whole paragraphs appear without the formality +of quotation marks, without any indication, +indeed, save these lines in the preface, that they +are not part of the Doctor's own imagination, +unless one compares them with the style in which +the rest of the book is written. "In one instance," +Mr. Saltus writes me, "he gave a paragraph +of mine as his own. Later on he added,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +'as we have already said' and repeated the paragraph. +The plural struck me as singular."</p> + +<p>"Madam Sapphira"<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> is a vivid study in unchastened +womanhood. We see but little of the +lady in the 251 pages of this "Fifth Avenue +Story"; her character is exposed to us through +the experiences of her poor fool husband, who +colloquially would be called a simp, by denizens of +the Low World a boob. He redeems himself to +some extent by sending Madam Sapphira a belated +bouquet of cyanide of potassium. On the whole, +though characters and phrases in his work might +be brought forward to prove the contrary, Mr. +Saltus obviously has a low opinion of women and +thinks that men do better without them. The +greater part of the time he appears to agree with +Posthumus:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Could I find out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The woman's part in me! For there's no motion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tends to vice in man but I affirm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is the woman's part; be it lying, note it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ambitions, covetings, changes of prides, disdain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nice longings, slanders, mutability,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">All faults that may be named, nay that hell knows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, hers, in part or all; but rather, all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For even to vice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are not constant, but are changing still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One vice of a minute old for one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not half so old as that. I'll write against them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Detest them, curse them.—Yet 'tis greater skill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a true hate, to pray they have their will:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very devils cannot plague them better."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Enthralled, a story of international life setting +forth the curious circumstances concerning +Lord Cloden and Oswald Quain":<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> a mad <i>opus</i> +this, an insane phantasmagoria of crime, avarice, +and murder. For the second time in this author's +novels incest plays a rôle. This time it is real. +Quain is indeed the half-brother of the lady who +desires to marry him. He is as vile and virulent +a villain as any who stalks through the pages of +Ann Ker, Eliza Bromley, or Mrs. Radcliffe. A +Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde motive is sounded. An +ugly man comes back from London a handsome +fellow after visits to a certain doctor who rearranges +the lines of his face. The transformation +is effected every day now (some of our +prominent actresses are said to have benefited by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +this operation), but in 1894 the mechanism of +the trick must have been appallingly creaky. +This story, indeed, borders on the burlesque and +has almost as much claim to the title as "The +Green Carnation." Was the author laughing at +the Eighteen Nineties? The period is subtly +evoked in one detail, constantly reiterated in Saltus's +early books: ladies and gentlemen when they +leave a room "push aside the portieres." Sometimes +the "rings jingle." He has in most instances +mercifully spared us further descriptions +of the interiors of New York houses at this +epoch.... At a dinner party one of the guests +refers to Howells as the "foremost novelist who is +never read." The book is dedicated to "Cherubina, +<i>dulcissime rerum</i>." Saltus returned to the +central theme of "Enthralled" in a story called +"The Impostor," printed in "Ainslee's" for May, +1917.</p> + +<p>"When Dreams Come True"<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> again brings us +in touch with Tancred Ennever, the stupid hero +of "The Transient Guest." In the meantime he +has become an almost intolerable prig. It is +probable that Saltus meant more by this fable +than he has let appear. The roar of the waves +on the coast of Lesbos is distinctly audible for a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +time and the dénoûment seems to belong to quite +another story.... Ennever has turned author. +We are informed that he has completed studies on +Huysmans and Leconte de Lisle; he is also engaged +on a "Historia Amoris." There is an interesting +passage relating to the names of great +writers. Alphabet Jones assures us that they are +always "in two syllables with the accent on the +first. Oyez: Homer, Sappho, Horace, Dante, +Petrarch, Ronsard, Shakespeare, Hugo, Swinburne +... Balzac, Flaubert, Huysmans, Michelet, +Renan." The reader is permitted to +add ... "Saltus"!</p> + +<p>"Purple and Fine Women"<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> is a misnamed +book. It should be called "Philosophic Fables." +The first two stories are French in form. Paul +Bourget himself is the hero of one of them! In +"The Princess of the Sun" we are offered a new +and fantastic version of the Coppelia story. +"The Dear Departed" finds Saltus in a murderous +amorous mood again. In "The Princess +of the Golden Isles" a new poison is introduced, +muscarine. Alchemy furnishes the theme for one +tale; the protagonist seeks an alcahest, a human +victim for his crucible. We are left in doubt as +to whether he chooses his wife, who wears a diamond<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +set in one of her teeth, or a gorilla. There +are dramas of dual personality and of death. +Metaphysics and spiritualism rise dimly out of the +charm of this book. There is a duchess who mews +like a cat and somewhere we are assured that +<i>Perche non posso odiarte</i> from <i>La Sonnnambula</i> is +the most beautiful aria in the Italian repertory. +Here is a true and soul-revealing epigram: +"The best way to master a subject of which you +are ignorant is to write it up." Certainly not +Saltus at his best, this <i>opus</i>, but far from his +worst.</p> + +<p>"The Perfume of Eros"<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> is frenzied fiction +again; amnesia, drunkenness, white slavery, sex, +are its mingled themes. There is a pretty picture, +recognizable in any smart community, of a witty +woman of fashion, and a full-length portrait of a +bounder. "The Yellow Fay," Saltus's <i>cliché</i> for +the Demon Rum, was the original title of this +"Fifth Avenue Incident." Romance and Realism +consort lovingly together in its pages. There is +an unforgetable passage descriptive of a young +man ridding himself of his mistress. He interrupts +his flow of explanation to hand her a card +case, which she promptly throws out of the window.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'That is an agreeable way of getting rid of +twelve thousand dollars,' he remarked.</p> + +<p>"Yet, however lightly he affected to speak, the +action annoyed him. Like all men of large means +he was close. It seemed to him beastly to lose +such a sum. He got up, went to the window and +looked down. He could not see the case and he +much wanted to go and look for it. But that for +the moment Marie prevented."</p> + +<p>"The Pomps of Satan"<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> is replete with grace +and graciousness, and full of charm, a quality more +valuable to its possessor than juvenility, our author +tells us in a chapter concerning the lost elixir +of youth. Neither form nor matter assume ponderous +shape in this volume, which in the quality +of its contents reminds one faintly of Franz Blei's +lady's breviary, "The Powder Puff," but Saltus's +book is the more ingratiating of the two. Satan's +pomps are varied; the author exposes his whims, +his ideas, images the past, forecasts the future, deplores +the present. There is a chapter on cooking +and we learn that Saltus does not care for +food prepared in the German style ... nor yet +in the American. He forbids us champagne: +"Champagne is not a wine. It is a beverage, +lighter indeed than brandy and soda, but, like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +cologne, fit only for demi-reps." But he seems +untrue to himself in an essay condemning the use +of perfumes. His own books are heavily scented. +With the rare prescience and clairvoyance of an +artist he includes the German Kaiser in a chapter +on hyenas (in 1906!); therein stalk the blood-stained +shadows of Caligula, Caracalla, Atilla, +Tamerlane, Cesare Borgia, Philip II, and Ivan +the Terrible. The paragraph is worth quoting: +"Power consists in having a million bayonets behind +you. Its diffusion is not general. But there +are people who possess it. For one, the German +Kaiser. Not long since somebody or other diagnosed +in him the habitual criminal. We doubt +that he is that. But we suspect that, were it not +for the press, he would show more of primitive man +than he has thus far thought judicious." Has +Mme. de Thèbes done better? Saltus also foresaw +Gertrude Stein. Peering into the future he +wrote: "When that day comes the models of literary +excellence will not be the long and windy +sentences of accredited bores, but ample brevities, +such as the 'N' on Napoleon's tomb, in which, in +less than a syllable, an epoch, and the glory of it, +is resumed." Saltus forsakes his previous choice +from Bellini and installs <i>Tu che a Dio</i> as his favourite +Italian opera air. Here is another flash<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +of self-revealment: "Byzance is rumoured to +have been the sewer of every sin, yet such was its +beauty that it is the canker of our heart we could +not have lived there." Always this turning to the +far past, this delving in rosetta stones and palimpsests, +this preoccupation with the sights and sins +of the ancient gods and kings. A chapter on +poisons, another on Gille de Retz, which probably +owes something to "La Bas," betray this preference. +He playfully suggests that the Academy of +Arts and Letters be filled up with young nobodies: +"They have, indeed, done nothing yet. But +therein is their charm. An academy composed of +young people who have done nothing yet would be +more alluring than one made up of fossils who are +unable to do anything more." Herein are contained +enough aphorisms and epigrams to make +up a new book of Solomonic wisdom. Hardly as +evenly inspired as "Imperial Purple," "The +Pomps of Satan" is more dashing and more +varied. It is also more tired.</p> + +<p>"Vanity Square"<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> in Stella Sixmuth boasts +such a "vampire" as even Theda Bara is seldom +called upon to portray. Not until the final chapters +of this mystery story do we discover that +this lady has been poisoning a rich man's wife,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +with an eye on the rich man's heart and hand. +Oraere is this slow and subtle poison which leaves +no subsequent trace. She is thwarted but in a +subsequent attempt she is successful. Robert +Hichens has used this theme in "Bella Donna." +There is a suicide by pistol. An exciting story +but little else, this book contains fewer references +to the gods and the cæsars than is usual with +Saltus. To compensate there are long discussions +about phobias, dual personalities (a girl with six +is described) and theories about future existence. +Vanity Square, we are told, is bounded by Central +Park, Madison Avenue, Seventy-second Street and +the Plaza.</p> + +<p>It will be remembered that Tancred Ennever +was at work on "Historia Amoris"<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> in 1895, +which would seem to indicate that Saltus had begun +to collect material for it himself at that time. +The title is a literal description of the contents of +the book: it is a history of love. Such a work +might have been made purely anecdotal or scientific, +but Saltus's purpose has been at once more +serious and more graceful, to show how the love +currents flowed through the centuries, to show what +effect period life had on love and what effect love +had on period life. Beginning with Babylon and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +passing on through the "Song of Songs" we meet +Helen of Troy, Scheherazade (though but briefly), +Sappho (to whom an entire chapter is devoted), +Cleopatra (whom Heine called "<i>cette reine entretenue</i>"), +Mary Magdalen, Héloïse.... The +Courts of Love are described and deductions are +drawn as to the effect of the Renaissance on the +Gay Science. "Historia Amoris" is concluded by +a Schopenhauerian essay on "The Law of Attraction." +Cicisbeism is not treated in extenso, as it +should be, and I also missed the fragrant name +of Sophie Arnould. Readers of "Love and Lore," +"The Pomps of Satan," "Imperial Purple," and +"The Lords of the Ghostland" will find much of +their material adjusted to the purposes of this +History of Love, which, nevertheless, no one interested +in Saltus can afford to miss.</p> + +<p>In "The Lords of the Ghostland, a history of +the ideal,"<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> Saltus returns to the theme of "The +Anatomy of Negation." The newer work is both +more cynical and more charming. It is, of course, +a history and a comparison of religions. With +Reinach Saltus believes that Christianity owes +much to its ancestors. Brahma, Ormuzd, Amon-Râ, +Bel-Marduk, Jehovah, Zeus, Jupiter, and +many lesser deities parade before us in defile.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +Prejudice, intolerance, tolerance even are lacking +from this book, as they were from "Imperial +Purple." "The Lords of the Ghostland" is +neither reverent nor irreverent, it is unreverent. +Mr. Saltus finds joy in writing about the gods, the +joy of a poet, and if his chiefest pleasure is to +extol the gods of Greece that is only what might +be expected of this truly pagan spirit. Students +of comparative theology can learn much from +these pages, but they will learn it unwittingly, for +the poet supersedes the teacher. Saltus is never +professorial. The scientific spirit is never to the +fore; no marshalling of dull facts for their own +sakes. Nevertheless I suspect that the book contains +more absorbing information than any similar +volume on the subject. With a fascinating and +guileful style this divine devil of an author leads us +on to the spot where he can point out to us that +the only original feature of Christianity is the +crucifixion, and even that is foreshadowed in +Hindoo legend, in which Krishna dies, nailed by +arrows to a tree. This book should be required +reading for the first class in isogogies.</p> + +<p>Most of the scenes of "Daughters of the +Rich"<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> are laid in Paris. The plot hinges on mistaken +identity and the whole is a very ingenious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +detective story. The book begins rather than +ends with a murder, but that is because the tale +is told backward. Through lies, deceit, and +treachery the woman in the case, one Sallie Malakoff, +betrays the hero into marriage with her. +When he discovers her perfidy he cheerfully cuts +her throat from ear to ear and goes to join the +lady from whom he has been estranged. She receives +him with open arms and suggests wedding +bells. No woman, she asserts, could resist a man +who has killed another woman for her sake. This +is decidedly a Roman point of view! Some of the +action takes place in a house on the Avenue Malakoff, +which must have been near the <i>hôtel</i> of the +Princesse de Sagan and the apartment occupied +by Miss Mary Garden.... A fat manufacturer's +wife confronts the proposal of a mercenary duke +with an epic rejoinder: "Pay a man a million +dollars to sleep with my daughter! Never!"... +Again Saltus demonstrates how completely he is +master of the story-telling gift, how surely he possesses +the power to compel breathless attention.</p> + +<p>"The Monster"<a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> is fiction, incredible, insane +fiction. The monster is incest, in this instance +<i>inceste manqué</i> because it doesn't come off. On +the eve of a runaway marriage Leilah Ogsten is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +informed by her father that her intended husband +is her own brother (he inculpates her mother in the +scandal). Leilah disappears and to put barriers +between her and the man she loves becomes the +bride of another. Verplank pursues. There are +two fabulous duels and a scene in which our hero +is mangled by dogs. The stage (for we are always +in some extravagant theatre) is frequently set in +Paris and the familiar scenes of the capital are in +turn exposed to our view. It is all mad, full of +purple patches and crimson splotches and yet, once +opened, it is impossible to lay the book down +until it is completed. From this novel Mr. Saltus +fashioned his only play, <i>The Gates of Life</i>, which +he sent to Charles Frohman and which Mr. Frohman +returned. The piece has neither been produced +nor published.</p> + +<p>Last year (1917) the Brothers of the Book in +Chicago published privately an extremely limited +edition (474 copies) of a book by Edgar Saltus +entitled, "Oscar Wilde: An Idler's Impression," +which contains only twenty-six pages, but those +twenty-six pages are very beautiful. They evoke +a spirit from the dead. Indeed, I doubt if even +Saltus has done better than his description of a +strange occurrence in a Regent Street Restaurant +on a certain night when he was supping with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +Wilde and Wilde was reading <i>Salome</i> to him: +"apropos of nothing, or rather with what to me at +the time was curious irrelevance, Oscar, while tossing +off glass after glass of liquor, spoke of Phémé, +a goddess rare even in mythology, who after appearing +twice in Homer, flashed through a verse of +Hesiod and vanished behind a page of Herodotus. +In telling of her, suddenly his eyes lifted, his +mouth contracted, a spasm of pain—or was it +dread?—had gripped him. A moment only. +His face relaxed. It had gone.</p> + +<p>"I have since wondered, could he have evoked +the goddess then? For Phémé typified what modern +occultism terms the impact—the premonition +that surges and warns. It was Wilde's fate to die +three times—to die in the dock, to die in prison, +to die all along the boulevards of Paris. Often +since I have wondered could the goddess have been +lifting, however slightly, some fringe of the crimson +curtain, behind which, in all its horror, his +destiny crouched. If so, he braved it.</p> + +<p>"I had looked away. I looked again. Before +me was a fat pauper, florid and over-dressed, who, +in the voice of an immortal, was reading the fantasies +of the damned. In his hand was a manuscript, +and we were supping on <i>Salome</i>."</p> + +<p>Edgar Saltus began with Balzac in 1884 and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +he has reached Oscar Wilde in 1917. His other +literary essays, on Gautier and Mérimée in "Tales +Before Supper," on Barbey d'Aurevilly in "The +Story Without a Name," and on Victor Hugo in +"The Forum" (June, 1912,) all display the finest +qualities of his genius. Pervaded with his rare +charm they are clairvoyant and illuminating, more +than that arresting. They should be brought together +in one volume, especially as they are at +present absolutely inaccessible, terrifyingly so, +every one of them. And if they are to be thus +collected may we not hope for one or two new essays +with, say, for subjects, Flaubert and Huysmans?</p> + +<p>It is, you may perceive, as an essayist, a historian, +an amateur philosopher that Saltus excels, +but his fiction should not be underrated on +that account. His novels indeed are half essays, +just as his essays are half novels. Even the worst +of them contains charming pages, delightful and +unexpected interruptions. His series of fables +suggests a vast <i>Comédie Inhumaine</i> but this statement +must not be regarded as dispraise: it is +merely description. You will find something of +the same quality in the work of Edgar Allan Poe, +but Saltus has more grace and charm than Poe, +if less intensity. After one dip into realism<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +("Mr. Incoul's Misadventure") Saltus became an +incorrigible romantic. All his characters are the +inventions of an errant fancy; scarcely one of +them suggests a human being, but they are none +the less creations of art. This, perhaps, was a +daring procedure in an era devoted to the exploitation +in fiction of the facts of hearth and home.... +After all, however, his way may be the better +way. Personally I may say that my passion for +realism is on the wane.</p> + +<p>In these strange tales we pass through the +familiar haunts of metropolitan life, but the creatures +are amazingly unfamiliar. They have horns +and hoofs, halos and wings, or fins and tails. An +esoteric band of fabulous monsters these: harpies +and vampires take tea at Sherry's; succubi and +incubbi are observed buying opal rings at Tiffany's; +fairies, angels, dwarfs, and elves, bearing +branches of asphodel, trip lightly down Waverly +Place; peris, amshaspahands, æsir, izeds, and goblins +sleep at the Brevoort; seraphim and cherubim +decorate drawing rooms on Irving Place; griffons, +chimeras, and sphynxes take courses in philosophy +at Harvard; willis and sylphs sing airs +from <i>Lucia di Lammermoor</i> and <i>Le Nozze di +Figaro</i>; naiads and mermaids embark on the +Cunard Line; centaurs and amazons drive in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +Florentine Cascine; kobolds, gnomes, and trolls +stab, shoot, and poison one another; and a satyr +meets the martichoras in Gramercy Park. No +such pictures of monstrous, diverting, sensuous +existence can be found elsewhere save in the paintings +of Arnold Böcklin, Franz von Stuck, and +above all those of Gustave Moreau. If he had +done nothing else Edgar Saltus should be famous +for having given New York a mythology of its +own!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>January 12, 1918.</i></span></p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="The_New_Art" id="The_New_Art"></a>The New Art of the Singer</h3> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"><i>"It's the law of life that nothing new can come into the world without pain."</i></p> +<p class="author">Karen Borneman.</p></div> + + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="The_New_Art_of_the_Singer" id="The_New_Art_of_the_Singer"></a>The New Art of the Singer</h2> + + +<p>The art of vocalization is retarding the +progress of the modern music drama. +That is the simple fact although, doubtless, +you are as accustomed as I am to hearing it expressed +<i>à rebours</i>. How many times have we read +that the art of singing is in its decadence, that +soon there would not be one artist left fitted to +deliver vocal music in public. The Earl of Mount +Edgcumbe wrote something of the sort in 1825 +for he found the great Catalani but a sorry travesty +of his early favourites, Pacchierotti and +Banti. I protest against this misconception. +Any one who asserts that there are laws which +govern singing, physical, scientific laws, must pay +court to other ears than mine. I have heard this +same man for twenty years shouting in the market +place that a piece without action was not a play +(usually the drama he referred to had more real +action than that which decorates the progress of +<i>Nellie, the Beautiful Cloak Model</i>), that a composition +without melody (meaning something by +Richard Wagner, Robert Franz, or even Edvard +Grieg) was not music, that verse without rhyme +was not poetry. This same type of brilliant mind +will go on to aver (forgetting the Scot) that men<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +who wear skirts are not men, (forgetting the Spaniards) +that women who smoke cigars are not +women, and to settle numberless other matters in +so silly a manner that a ten year old, half-witted +school boy, after three minutes light thinking, +could be depended upon to do better.</p> + +<p>The rules for the art of singing, laid down in +the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries, have +become obsolete. How could it be otherwise? +They were contrived to fit a certain style of composition. +We have but the briefest knowledge, indeed, +of how people sang before 1700, although +records exist praising the performances of Archilei +and others. If a different standard for the criticism +of vocalization existed before 1600 there is +no reason why there should not after 1917. As +a matter of fact, maugre much authoritative opinion +to the contrary, a different standard does exist. +In certain respects the new standard is taken +for granted. We do not, for example, expect to +hear male sopranos at the opera. The Earl of +Mount Edgcumbe admired this artificial form of +voice almost to the exclusion of all others. His +favourite singer, indeed, Pacchierotti, was a male +soprano. But other breaks have been made with +tradition, breaks which are not yet taken for +granted. When you find that all but one or two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +of the singers in every opera house in the world +are ignoring the rules in some respect or other you +may be certain, in spite of the protests of the +professors, that the rules are dead. Their excuse +has disappeared and they remain only as silly +commandments made to fit an old religion. A +singer in Handel's day was accustomed to stand +in one spot on the stage and sing; nothing else +was required of him. He was not asked to walk +about or to act; even expression in his singing +was limited to pathos. The singers of this period, +Nicolini, Senesino, Cuzzoni, Faustina, Caffarelli, +Farinelli, Carestini, Gizziello, and Pacchierotti, +devoted their study years to preparing their voices +for the display of a certain definite kind of florid +music. They had nothing else to learn. As a +consequence they were expected to be particularly +efficient. Porpora, Caffarelli's teacher, is said to +have spent six years on his pupil before he sent +him forth to be "the greatest singer in the world." +Contemporary critics appear to have been highly +pleased with the result but there is some excuse +for H. T. Finck's impatience, expressed in "Songs +and Song Writers": "The favourites of the +eighteenth-century Italian audiences were artificial +male sopranos, like Farinelli, who was frantically +applauded for such circus tricks as beating<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +a trumpeter in holding on to a note, or racing +with an orchestra and getting ahead of it; or +Caffarelli, who entertained his audiences by singing, +<i>in one breath</i>, a chromatic chain of trills up +and down two octaves. Caffarelli was a pupil of +the famous vocal teacher Porpora, who wrote +operas consisting chiefly of monotonous successions +of florid arias resembling the music that is +now written for flutes and violins." All very well +for the day, no doubt, but could Cuzzoni sing +Isolde? Could Faustina sing Mélisande? And +what modern parts would be allotted to the Julian +Eltinges of the Eighteenth Century?</p> + +<p>When composers began to set dramatic texts +to music trouble immediately appeared at the door. +For example, the contemporaries of Sophie +Arnould, the "creator" of <i>Iphigénie en Aulide</i>, +are agreed that she was greater as an actress than +she was as a singer. David Garrick, indeed, pronounced +her a finer actress than Clairon. From +that day to this there has been a continual triangular +conflict between critic, composer, and +singer, which up to date, it must be admitted, has +been won by the academic pundits, for, although +the singer has struggled, she has generally bent +under the blows of the critical knout, thereby +holding the lyric drama more or less in the state<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +it was in a hundred years ago (every critic and +almost every composer will tell you that any modern +opera can be sung according to the laws of +<i>bel canto</i> and enough singers exist, unfortunately, +to justify this assertion) save that the music is +not so well sung, according to the old standards, +as it was then. No singer has had quite the courage +to entirely defy tradition, to refuse to study +with a teacher, to embody her own natural ideas +in the performance of music, to found a new school +... but there have been many rebells.</p> + +<p>The operas of Mozart, Bellini, Donizetti, and +Rossini, as a whole, do not demand great histrionic +exertion from their interpreters and for a time +singers trained in the old Handelian tradition met +every requirement of these composers and their +audiences. If more action was demanded than +in Handel's day the newer music, in compensation, +was easier to sing. But even early in the Nineteenth +Century we observe that those artists who +strove to be actors as well as singers lost something +in vocal facility (really they were pushing +on to the new technique). I need only speak of +Ronconi and Mme. Pasta. The lady was admittedly +the greatest lyric artist of her day although +it is recorded that her slips from true intonation +were frequent. When she could no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +longer command a steady tone the <i>beaux restes</i> +of her art and her authoritative style caused +Pauline Viardot, who was hearing her then for +the first time, to burst into tears. Ronconi's +voice, according to Chorley, barely exceeded an +octave; it was weak and habitually out of tune. +This baritone was not gifted with vocal agility +and he was monotonous in his use of ornament. +Nevertheless this same Chorley admits that Ronconi +afforded him more pleasure in the theatre +than almost any other singer he ever heard! If +this critic did not rise to the occasion here and +point the way to the future in another place he +had a faint glimmering of the coming revolution: +"There might, there <i>should</i> be yet, a new <i>Medea</i> +as an opera. Nothing can be grander, more antique, +more Greek, than Cherubini's setting of the +'grand fiendish part' (to quote the words of +Mrs. Siddons on Lady Macbeth). But, as music, +it becomes simply impossible to be executed, so +frightful is the strain on the energies of her who +is to present the heroine. Compared with this +character, Beethoven's Leonora, Weber's Euryanthe, +are only so much child's play." This is +topsy-turvy reasoning, of course, but at the same +time it is suggestive.</p> + +<p>The modern orchestra dug a deeper breach<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +between the two schools. Wagner called upon +the singer to express powerful emotion, passionate +feeling, over a great body of sound, nay, in many +instances, <i>against</i> a great body of sound. (It is +significant that Wagner himself admitted that it +was a singer [Madame Schroeder-Devrient] who +revealed to him the possibilities of dramatic singing. +He boasted that he was the only one to +learn the lesson. "She was the first artist," +writes H. T. Finck, "who fully revealed the fact +that in a dramatic opera there may be situations +where <i>characteristic</i> singing is of more importance +than <i>beautiful</i> singing.") It is small occasion +for wonder that singers began to bark. Indeed +they nearly expired under the strain of trying +successfully to mingle Porpora and passion. According +to W. F. Apthorp, Max Alvary once said +that, considering the emotional intensity of music +and situations, the constant co-operation of the +surging orchestra, and, most of all, the unconquerable +feeling of the reality of it all, it was a +wonder that singing actors did not go stark mad, +before the very faces of the audience, in parts like +Tristan or Siegfried.... The critics, however, +were inexorable; they stood by their guns. There +was but one way to sing the new music and that +was the way of Bernacchi and Pistocchi. In<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +time, by dint of persevering, talking night and +day, writing day and night, they convinced the +singer. The music drama developed but the singer +was held in his place. Some artists, great geniuses, +of course, made the compromise successfully.... +Jean de Reszke, for example, and Lilli Lehmann, +who said to H. E. Krehbiel ("Chapters of +Opera"): "It is easier to sing all three Brünnhildes +than one Norma. You are so carried away +by the dramatic emotion, the action, and the scene, +that you do not have to think how to sing the +words. That comes of itself" ... but they +made the further progress of the composer more +difficult thereby; music remained merely pretty. +The successors of these supple singers even learned +to sing Richard Strauss with broad cantilena effects. +As for Puccini! At a performance of +<i>Madama Butterfly</i> a Japanese once asked why +the singers were producing those nice round tones +in moments of passion; why not ugly sounds?</p> + +<p>Will any composer arise with the courage to +write an opera which <i>cannot</i> be sung? Stravinsky +almost did this in <i>The Nightingale</i> but the break +must be more complete. Think of the range of +sounds made by the Japanese, the gipsy, the Chinese, +the Spanish folk-singers. The newest composer +may ask for shrieks, squeaks, groans,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +screams, a thousand delicate shades of guttural +and falsetto vocal tones from his interpreters. +Why should the gamut of expression on our opera +stage be so much more limited than it is in our +music halls? Why should the Hottentots be able +to make so many delightful noises that we are incapable +of producing? Composers up to date +have taken into account a singer's apparent inability +to bridge difficult intervals. It is only by +ignoring all such limitations that the new music +will definitely emerge, the new art of the singer +be born. What marvellous effects might be +achieved by skipping from octave to octave in +the human voice! When will the obfusc pundits +stop shouting for what Avery Hopwood calls +"ascending and descending tetrarchs!"</p> + +<p>But, some one will argue, with the passing of +<i>bel canto</i> what will become of the operas of Mozart, +Bellini, Rossini, and Donizetti? Who will sing +them? Fear not, lover of the golden age of song, +<i>bel canto</i> is not passing as swiftly as that. Singers +will continue to be born into this world who +are able to cope with the floridity of this music, for +they are born, not made. Amelita Galli-Curci +will have her successors, just as Adelina Patti +had hers. Singers of this kind begin to sing +naturally in their infancy and they continue to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +sing, just sing.... One touch of drama or emotion +and their voices disappear. Remember Nellie +Melba's sad experience with <i>Siegfried</i>. The +great Mario had scarcely studied singing (one +authority says that he had taken a few lessons +of Meyerbeer!) when he made his début in <i>Robert, +le Diable</i> and there is no evidence that he studied +very much afterwards. Melba, herself, spent less +than a year with Mme. Marchesi in preparation +for her opera career. Mme. Galli-Curci asserts +that she has had very little to do with professors +and I do not think Mme. Tetrazzini passed her +youth in mastering <i>vocalizzi</i>. As a matter of fact +she studied singing only six months. Adelina +Patti told Dr. Hanslick that she had sung <i>Una +voce poco fà</i> at the age of seven with the same +embellishments which she used later when she appeared +in the opera in which the air occurs. No, +these singers are freaks of nature like tortoise-shell +cats and like those rare felines they are +usually females of late, although such singers as +Battistini and Bonci remind us that men once sang +with as much agility as women. But when this +type of singer finally becomes extinct naturally +the operas which depend on it will disappear too +for the same reason that the works of Monteverde +and Handel have dropped out of the repertory,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +that the Greek tragedies and the Elizabethan interludes +are no longer current on our stage. +None of our actors understands the style of Chinese +plays; consequently it would be impossible to +present one of them in our theatre. As Deirdre +says in Synge's great play, "It's a heartbreak +to the wise that it's for a short space we have +the same things only." We cannot, indeed, have +everything. No one doubts that the plays of +Æschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles are great +dramas; the operas I have just referred to can +also be admired in the closet and probably they +will be. Even today no more than two works of +Rossini, the most popular composer of the early +Nineteenth Century, are to be heard. What has +become of <i>Semiramide</i>, <i>La Cenerentola</i>, and the +others? There are no singers to sing them and +so they have been dropped from the repertory +without being missed. Can any of our young +misses hum <i>Di Tanti Palpiti</i>? You know they +cannot. I doubt if you can find two girls in New +York (and I mean girls with a musical education) +who can tell you in what opera the air belongs +and yet in the early Twenties this tune was as +popular as <i>Un Bel Di</i> is today.</p> + +<p>Coloratura singing has been called heartless, not +altogether without reason. At one time its <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>exemplars +fired composers to their best efforts. +That day has passed. That day passed seventy +years ago. It may occur to you that there is +something wrong when singers of a certain type +can only find the proper means to exploit their +voices in works of the past, operas which are dead. +It is to be noted that Nellie Melba and Amelita +Galli-Curci are absolutely unfitted to sing in music +dramas even so early as those of Richard Wagner; +Dukas, Strauss, and Stravinsky are utterly beyond +them. Even Adelina Patti and Marcella +Sembrich appeared in few, if any, new works of +importance. They had no bearing on the march +of musical history. Here is an entirely paradoxical +situation; a set of interpreters who exist, +it would seem, only for the purpose of delivering +to us the art of the past. What would we think +of an actor who could make no effect save in the +tragedies of Corneille? It is such as these who +have kept Leo Ornstein from writing an opera. +Berlioz forewarned us in his "Memoirs." He was +one of the first to foresee the coming day: "We +shall always find a fair number of female singers, +popular from their brilliant singing of brilliant +trifles, and odious to the great masters because +utterly incapable of properly interpreting +them. They have voices, a certain knowledge of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +music, and flexible throats: they are lacking in +soul, brain, and heart. Such women are regular +monsters and all the more formidable to composers +because they are often charming monsters. This +explains the weakness of certain masters in writing +falsely sentimental parts, which attract the +public by their brilliancy. It also explains the +number of degenerate works, the gradual degradation +of style, the destruction of all sense of expression, +the neglect of dramatic properties, the +contempt for the true, the grand, and the beautiful, +and the cynicism and decrepitude of art in +certain countries."</p> + +<p>So, even if, as the ponderous criticasters are +continually pointing out, the age of <i>bel canto</i> is +really passing there is no actual occasion for grief. +All fashions in art pass and what is known as <i>bel +canto</i> is just as much a fashion as the bombastic +style of acting that prevailed in Victor Hugo's +day or the "realistic" style of acting we prefer +today. All interpretative art is based primarily +on the material with which it deals and with contemporary +public taste. This kind of singing is +a direct derivative of a certain school of opera +and as that school of opera is fading more expressive +methods of singing are coming to the +fore. The very first principle of <i>bel canto</i>, an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +equalized scale, is a false one. With an equalized +scale a singer can produce a perfectly ordered +series of notes, a charming string of matched +pearls, but nothing else. It is worthy of note +that it is impossible to sing Spanish or negro +folk-songs with an equalized scale. Almost all +folk-music, indeed, exacts a vocal method of its +interpreter quite distinct from that of the art +song.</p> + +<p>We know now that true beauty lies deeper than +in the emission of "perfect tone." Beauty is +truth and expressiveness. The new art of the +singer should develop to the highest degree the +significance of the text. Calvé once said that she +did not become a real artist until she forgot that +she had a beautiful voice and thought only of the +proper expression the music demanded.</p> + +<p>Of the old method of singing only one quality +will persist in the late Twentieth Century (mind +you, this is deliberate prophecy but it is about as +safe as it would be to predict that Sarah Bernhardt +will live to give several hundred more performances +of <i>La Dame aux Camélias</i>) and that is +style. The performance of any work demands a +knowledge of and a feeling for its style but style +is about the last thing a singer ever studies.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +When, however, you find a singer who understands +style, there you have an artist!</p> + +<p>Style is the quality which endures long after +the singer has lost the power to produce a pure +tone or to contrive accurate phrasing and so +makes it possible for artists to hold their places +on the stage long after their voices have become +partially defective or, indeed, have actually departed. +It is knowledge of style that accounts +for the long careers of Marcella Sembrich and +Lilli Lehmann or of Yvette Guilbert and Maggie +Cline for that matter. It is knowledge of style +that makes De Wolf Hopper a great artist in his +interpretation of the music of Sullivan and the +words of Gilbert. Some artists, indeed, with +barely a shred of voice, have managed to maintain +their positions on the stage for many years +through a knowledge of style. I might mention +Victor Maurel, Max Heinrich (not on the opera +stage, of course), Antonio Scotti, and Maurice +Renaud.</p> + +<p>A singer may be born with the ability to produce +pure tones (I doubt if Mme. Melba learned +much about tone production from her teachers), +she may even phrase naturally, although this is +more doubtful, but the acquirement of style is a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +long and tedious process and one which generally +requires specialization. For style is elusive. An +auditor, a critic, will recognize it at once but +very few can tell of what it consists. Nevertheless +it is fairly obvious to the casual listener that +Olive Fremstad is more at home in the music +dramas of Gluck and Wagner than she is in <i>Carmen</i> +and <i>Tosca</i>, and that Marcella Sembrich is +happier when she is singing Zerlina (as a Mozart +singer she has had no equal in the past three +decades) than when she is singing <i>Lakmé</i>. Mme. +Melba sings <i>Lucia</i> in excellent style but she probably +could not convince us that she knows how to +sing a Brahms song. So far as I know she has +never tried to do so. A recent example comes +to mind in Maria Marco, the Spanish soprano, who +sings music of her own country in her own language +with absolutely irresistible effect, but on +one occasion when she attempted <i>Vissi d'Arte</i> she +was transformed immediately into a second-rate +Italian singer. Even her gestures, ordinarily +fully of grace and meaning, had become conventionalized.</p> + +<p>If this quality of style (which after all means an +understanding of both the surface manner and +underlying purpose of a composition and an ability +to transmit this understanding across the footlights)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +is of such manifest importance in the +field of art music it is doubly so in the field of +popular or folk-music. A foreigner had best +think twice before attempting to sing a Swedish +song, a Hungarian song, or a Polish song, popular +or folk. (According to no less an authority +than Cecil J. Sharp, the peasants themselves differentiate +between the two and devote to each a +<i>special vocal method</i>. Here are his words ["English +Folk-Song"]: "But, it must be remembered +that the vocal method of the folk-singer is inseparable +from the folk-song. It is a cult which +has grown up side by side with the folk-song, and +is, no doubt, part and parcel of the same tradition. +When, for instance, an old singing man sings a +modern popular song, he will sing it in quite another +way. The tone of his voice will change and +he will slur his intervals, after the approved manner +of the street-singer. Indeed, it is usually +quite possible to detect a genuine folk-song simply +by paying attention to the way in which it is +sung.") Strangers as a rule do not attempt such +matters although we have before us at the present +time the very interesting case of Ratan Devi. +It is a question, however, if Ratan Devi would be +so much admired if her songs or their traditional +manner of performance were more familiar to us.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<p>On our music hall stage there are not more than +ten singers who understand how to sing American +popular songs (and these, as I have said elsewhere +at some length,<a name="FNanchor_33_33" id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> constitute America's best claim +in the art of music). It is very difficult to sing +them well. Tone and phrasing have nothing to +do with the matter; it is all a question of style +(leaving aside for the moment the important matter +of personality which enters into an accounting +for any artist's popularity or standing). +Elsie Janis, a very clever mimic, a delightful +dancer, and perhaps the most deservedly popular +artist on our music hall stage, is not a good interpreter +of popular songs. She cannot be compared +in this respect with Bert Williams, Blanche +Ring, Stella Mayhew, Al Jolson, May Irwin, Ethel +Levey, Nora Bayes, Fannie Brice, or Marie Cahill. +I have named nearly all the good ones. The +spirit, the very conscious liberties taken with the +text (the vaudeville singer must elaborate his own +syncopations as the singer of early opera embroidered +on the score of the composer) are not +matters that just happen. They require any +amount of work and experience with audiences. +None of the singers I have named is a novice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +Nor will you find novices who are able to sing +Schumann and Franz <i>lieder</i>, although they may +be blessed with well-nigh perfect vocal organs.</p> + +<p>Still the music critics with strange persistence +continue to adjudge a singer by the old formulæ +and standards: has she an equalized scale? Has +she taste in ornament? Does she overdo the use +of <i>portamento</i>, <i>messa di voce</i>, and such devices? +How is her shake? etc., etc. But how false, how +ridiculous, this is! Fancy the result if new writers +and composers were criticized by the old laws +(so they are, my son, but not for long)! Creative +artists always smash the old tablets of commandments +and it does not seem to me that interpretative +artists need be more unprogressive. +Acting changes. Judged by the standards by +which Edwin Booth was assessed John Drew is +not an actor. But we know now that it is a different +kind of acting. Acting has been flamboyant, +extravagant, and intensely emotional, +something quite different from real life. The +present craze for counterfeiting the semblance of +ordinary existence on the stage will also die out +for the stage is not life and representing life on +the stage (except in a conventionalized or decorative +form) is not art. Our new actors (with our +new playwrights) will develop a new and fantastic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +mode of expression which will supersede the +present fashion.... Rubinstein certainly did +not play the piano like Chopin. Presently a +<i>virtuoso</i> will appear who will refuse to play the +piano at all and a new instrument without a tempered +scale will be invented so that he may indulge +in all the subtleties between half-tones which are +denied to the pianist.</p> + +<p>It's all very well to cry, "Halt!" and "Who +goes there?" but you can't stop progress any +more than you can stop the passing of time. +The old technique of the singer breaks down before +the new technique of the composer and the +musician with daring will go still further if the +singer will but follow. Would that some singer +would have the complete courage to lead! But +do not misunderstand me. The road to Parnassus +is no shorter because it has been newly +paved. Indeed I think it is longer. Caffarelli +studied six years before he made his début as "the +greatest singer in the world" but I imagine that +Waslav Nijinsky studied ten before he set foot +on the stage. The new music drama, combining +as it does principles from all the arts is all-demanding +of its interpreters. The new singer +must learn how to move gracefully and awkwardly, +how to make both fantastic and realistic gestures,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +always unconventional gestures, because conventions +stamp the imitator. She must peer into +every period, glance at every nation. Every +nerve centre must be prepared to express any +adumbration of plasticity. Many of the new +operas, <i>Carmen</i>, <i>La Dolores</i>, <i>Salome</i>, <i>Elektra</i>, to +name a few, call for interpretative dancing of the +first order. <i>Madama Butterfly</i> and <i>Lakmé</i> demand +a knowledge of national characteristics. +<i>Pelléas et Mélisande</i> and <i>Ariane et Barbe-Bleue</i> require +of the interpreter absolutely distinct enunciation. +In Handel's operas the phrases were repeated +so many times that the singer was excused +if he proclaimed the meaning of the line once. +After that he could alter the vowels and consonants +to suit his vocal convenience. <i>Monna +Vanna</i> and <i>Tristan und Isolde</i> exact of their interpreters +acting of the highest poetic and imaginative +scope....</p> + +<p>It is a question whether certain singers of our +day have not solved these problems with greater +success than that for which they are given +credit.... Yvette Guilbert has announced publicly +that she never had a teacher, that she would +not trust her voice to a teacher. The enchanting +Yvette practises a sound by herself until she is +able to make it; she repeats a phrase until she can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +deliver it without an interrupting breath, and is +there a singer on the stage more expressive than +Yvette Guilbert? She sings a little tenor, a little +baritone, and a little bass. She can succeed almost +invariably in making the effect she sets out +to make. And Yvette Guilbert is the answer to +the statement often made that unorthodox methods +of singing ruin the voice. Ruin it for performances +of <i>Linda di Chaminoux</i> and <i>La Sonnambula</i> +very possibly, but if young singers sit about saving +their voices for performances of these operas they +are more than likely to die unheard. It is a fact +that good singing in the old-fashioned sense will +help nobody out in <i>Elektra</i>, <i>Ariane et Barbe-Bleue</i>, +<i>Pelléas et Mélisande</i>, or <i>The Nightingale</i>. +These works are written in new styles and they +demand a new technique. Put Mme. Melba, Mme. +Destinn, Mme. Sembrich, or Mme. Galli-Curci to +work on these scores and you will simply have a +sad mess.</p> + +<p>We have, I think, but a faint glimmering of +what vocal expressiveness may become. Such +torch-bearers as Mariette Mazarin and Feodor +Chaliapine have been procaciously excoriated by +the critics. Until recently Mary Garden, who of +all artists on the lyric stage, is the most nearly in +touch with the singing of the future, has been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +treated as a charlatan and a fraud. W. J. Henderson +once called her the "Queen of Unsong." +Well, perhaps she is, but she is certainly better +able to cope artistically with the problems of the +modern music drama than such Queens of Song as +Marcella Sembrich and Adelina Patti would be. +Perhaps Unsong is the name of the new art.</p> + +<p>I do not think I have ever been backward in expressing +my appreciation of this artist. My essay +devoted to her in "Interpreters and Interpretations" +will certainly testify eloquently as to my +previous attitude in regard to her. But it has +not always been so with some of my colleagues. +Since she has been away from us they have learned +something; they have watched and listened to +others and so when Mary Garden came back to +New York in <i>Monna Vanna</i> in January, 1918, they +were ready to sing choruses of praise in her honour. +They have been encomiastic even in regard to her +voice and her manner of singing.</p> + +<p>Even my own opinion of this artist's work has +undergone a change. I have always regarded her +as one of the few great interpreters, but in the +light of recent experience I now feel assured that +she is the greatest artist on the contemporary lyric +stage. It is not, I would insist, Mary Garden that +has changed so much as we ourselves. She has, it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +is true, polished her interpretations until they +seem incredibly perfect, but has there ever been a +time when she gave anything but perfect impersonations +of Mélisande or Thais? Has she ever +been careless before the public? I doubt it.</p> + +<p>The fact of the matter is that when Mary Garden +first came to New York only a few of us were +ready to receive her at anywhere near her true +worth. In a field where mediocrity and brainlessness, +lack of theatrical instinct and vocal insipidity +are fairly the rule her dominant personality, +her unerring search for novelty of expression, +the very completeness of her dramatic and +vocal pictures, annoyed the philistines, the professors, +and the academicians. They had been accustomed +to taking their opera quietly with their after-dinner +coffee and, on the whole, they preferred it +that way.</p> + +<p>But the main obstacle in the way of her complete +success lay in the matter of her voice, of her singing. +Of the quality of any voice there can always +exist a thousand different opinions. To me the +great beauty of the middle register of Mary Garden's +voice has always been apparent. But what +was not so evident at first was the absolute fitness +of this voice and her method of using it for the +dramatic style of the artist and for the artistic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +demands of the works in which she appeared. +Thoroughly musical, Miss Garden has often puzzled +her critical hearers by singing <i>Faust</i> in one +vocal style and <i>Thais</i> in another. But she was +right and they were wrong. She might, indeed, +have experimented still further with a new vocal +technique if she had been given any encouragement +but encouragement is seldom offered to any innovator. +As Edgar Saltus puts it, "The number +of people who regard a new idea or a fresh theory +as a personal insult is curiously large; indeed they +are more frequent today than when Socrates +quaffed the hemlock." It must, therefore, be a +source of ironic amusement to her to find herself +now appreciated not alone by her public, which +has always been loyal and adoring, but also by +the professors themselves.</p> + +<p>It would do no harm to any singer to study the +multitude of vocal effects this artist achieves. I +can think of nobody who could not learn something +from her. How, for example, she gives her voice +the hue and colour of a <i>jeune fille</i> in <i>Pelléas et +Mélisande</i>, for although Mélisande had been the +bride of Barbe-Bleue before Golaud discovered her +in the forest she had never learned to be anything +else than innocent and distraught, unhappy and +mysterious. Her treatment of certain important<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +phrases in this work is so electrifying in its effect +that the heart of every auditor is pierced. Remember, +for example, her question to Pelléas at +the end of the first act, "<i>Pourquoi partez-vous?</i>" +to which she imparts a kind of dreamy intuitive +longing; recall the amazement shining through her +grief at Golaud's command that she ask Pelléas to +accompany her on her search for the lost ring: +"<i>Pelléas!—Avec Pelléas!—Mais Pelléas ne +voudra pas</i>...."; and do not forget the terrified +cry which signals the discovery of the hidden +Golaud in the park, "<i>Il y a quelqu'un derrière +nous!</i>"</p> + +<p>In <i>Monna Vanna</i> her most magnificent vocal gesture +rested on the single word <i>Si</i> in reply to +Guido's "<i>Tu ne reviendras pas?</i>" Her performance +of this work, however, offers many examples +of just such instinctive intonations. One +more, I must mention, her answer to Guido's insistent, +"<i>Cet homme t'a-t-il prise?</i>" ... "<i>J'ai +dit la vérité.... Il ne m'a pas touchée</i>," sung +with dignity, with force, with womanliness, and yet +with growing impatience and a touch of sadness.</p> + +<p>Let me quote Pitts Sanborn: "It is easy to +be flippant about Miss Garden's singing. Her +faults of voice and technique are patent to a child, +though he might not name them. One who has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +become a man can ponder the greatness of her +singing. I do not mean exclusively in Debussy, +though we all know that as a singer of Debussy +... she has scarce a rival. Take her <i>mezza +voce</i> and her phrasing in the second act of +<i>Monna Vanna</i>, take them and bow down before +them. Ponder a moment her singing in <i>Thais</i>. +The converted Thais, about to betake herself +desertward with the insistent monk, has a solo to +sing. The solo is Massenet, simon-pure Massenet, +the idol of the Paris <i>midinette</i>. Miss Garden, with +a defective voice, a defective technique, exalts and +magnifies that passage till it might be the noblest +air of Handel or of Mozart. By a sheer and unashamed +reliance on her command of style, Miss +Garden works that miracle, transfigures Massenet +into something superearthly, overpowering. +Will you rise up to deny that is singing?"</p> + +<p>As for her acting, there can scarcely be two +opinions about that! She is one of the few possessors +of that rare gift of imparting atmosphere +and mood to a characterization. Some +exceptional actors and singers accomplish this feat +occasionally. Mary Garden has scarcely ever +failed to do so. The moment Mélisande is disclosed +to our view, for example, she seems to be +surrounded by an aura entirely distinct from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +aura which surrounds Monna Vanna, Jean, Thais, +Salome, or Sapho. She becomes, indeed, so much +a part of the character she assumes that the +spectator finds great difficulty in dissociating her +from that character, and I have found those who, +having seen Mary Garden in only one part, were +quite ready to generalize about her own personality +from the impression they had received.</p> + +<p>One of the tests of great acting is whether or +not an artist remains in the picture when she is +not singing or speaking. Mary Garden knows how +to listen on the stage. She does not need to move +or speak to make herself a part of the action and +she is never guilty of such an offence against artistry +as that committed by Tamagno, who, according +to Victor Maurel, allowed a scene in <i>Otello</i> +to drop to nothing while he prepared himself to +emit a high B.</p> + +<p>Watching her magnificent performance of +Monna Vanna it struck me that she would make an +incomparable Isolde. At the present moment I +cannot imagine Mary Garden learning Boche or +singing in it even if she knew it, but if some one +will present us Wagner's (who hated the Germans +as much as Theodore Roosevelt does) music drama +in French or English with Mary Garden as Isolde,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +I think the public will thank me for having suggested +it.</p> + +<p>Or it would be even better if Schoenberg, or +Stravinsky, or Leo Ornstein, inspired by the new +light the example of such a singer has cast over +our lyric stage, would write a music drama, ignoring +the technique and the conventions of the past, +as Debussy did when he wrote <i>Pelléas et Mélisande</i> +(creating opportunities which any opera-goer +of the last decade knows how gloriously Miss +Garden realized). It is thus that the new order +will gradually become established. And then the +new art ... the new art of the singer....</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>April 18, 1918.</i></span><br /> +</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="Au_Bal" id="Au_Bal"></a>Au Bal Musette</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><i>"Auprès de ma blonde</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Qu'il fait bon, fait bon, bon, bon...."</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Old French Song.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Au_Bal_Musette" id="Au_Bal_Musette"></a>Au Bal Musette</h2> + + +<p>It has often been remarked by philosophers +and philistines alike that the commonest facts +of existence escape our attention until they +are impressed upon it in some unusual way. For +example I knew nothing of the sovereign powers +of citronella as a mosquito dispatcher until a +plague of the insects drove me to make enquiries of +a chemist. For years I believed that knocking the +necks off bottles, lacking an opener, was the only +alternative. A friend who caught me in this predicament +showed me the other use to which the +handles of high-boy drawers could be put. It was +long my habit to quickly dispose of trousers which +had been disfigured by cigarette burns, but that +was before I had heard of <i>stoppage</i>, a process by +which the original weave is cleverly counterfeited. +And, wishing to dance, in Paris, I have been guilty +of visits to the great dance halls and to the small +smart places where champagne is oppressively the +only listed beverage. But that was before I discovered +the <i>bal musette</i>.</p> + +<p>One July night in Paris I had dinner with a certain +lady at the Cou-Cou, followed by cognac at +the Savoyarde. I find nothing strange in this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +program; it seems to me that I must have dined +at the Cou-Cou with every one I have known in +Paris from time to time, a range of acquaintanceship +including Fernand, the <i>apache</i>, and the +Comtesse de J——, and cognac at the Savoyarde +usually followed the dinner. This evening at the +Cou-Cou then resembled any other evening. Do +you know how to go there? You must take a taxi-cab +to the foot of the hill of Montmartre and then +be drawn up in the <i>finiculaire</i> to the top where +the church of Sacré-Coeur squats proudly, for all +the world like a mammoth Buddha (of course +you may ride all the way up the mountain in your +taxi if you like). From Sacré-Coeur one turns to +the left around the board fence which, it would +seem, will always hedge in this unfinished monument +of pious Catholics; still turning to the left, +through the Place du Tertre, in which one must +not be stayed by the pleasant sight of the <i>Montmartroises +bourgeoises</i> eating <i>petite marmite</i> in +the open air, one arrives at the Place du Calvaire. +The tables of the Restaurant Cou-Cou occupy +nearly the whole of this tiny square, to which there +are only two means of approach, one up the stairs +from the city below, and the other from the Place +du Tertre. An artist's house disturbs the view on +the side towards Paris; opposite is the restaurant,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +flanked on the right by a row of modest apartment +houses, to which one gains entrance through a +high wall by means of a small gate. Sundry visitors +to these houses, some on bicycles, make occasional +interruptions in the dinner.... From over +this wall, too, comes the huge Cheshire cat (much +bigger than Alice's, a beautiful animal), which +lounges about in the hope, frequently realized, that +some one will give him a chicken bone.... Conterminous +to the restaurant, on the right, is a tiny +cottage, fronted by a still tinier garden, fenced in +and gated. Many of the visitors to the Cou-Cou +hang their hats and sticks on this fence and its +gate. I have never seen the occupants of the +cottage in any of my numerous visits to this open +air restaurant, but once, towards eleven o'clock +the crowd in the square becoming too noisy, the +upper windows were suddenly thrown up and a +pailful of water descended.... "<i>Per Baccho!</i>" +quoth the inn-keeper for, it must be known, the +Restaurant Cou-Cou is Italian by nature of its +<i>patron</i> and its cooking.</p> + +<p>This night, I say, had been as the others. The +Cou-Cou is (and in this respect it is not exceptional +in Paris) safe to return to if you have found it to +your liking in years gone by. Perhaps some day +the small boy of the place will be grown up. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +is a real <i>enfant terrible</i>. It is his pleasure to +<i>tutoyer</i> the guests, to amuse himself by pretending +to serve them, only to bring the wrong dishes, or +none at all. If you call to him he is deaf. Any +hope of <i>revanche</i> is abandoned in the reflection of +the super-retaliations he himself conceives. One +young man who expresses himself freely on the subject +of Pietro receives a plate of hot soup down +the back of his neck, followed immediately by a +"<i>Pardon, Monsieur</i>," said not without respect. +But where might Pietro's father be? He is in the +kitchen cooking and if you find your dinner coming +too slowly at the hands of the distracted maid +servants, who also have to put up with Pietro, go +into the kitchen, passing under the little vine-clad +porch wherein you may discover a pair of lovers, +and help yourself. And if you find some one else's +dinner more to your liking than your own take that +off the stove instead. At the Cou-Cou you pay +for what you eat, not for what you order. And +the Signora, Pietro's mother? That unhappy +woman usually stands in front of the door, where +she interferes with the passage of the girls going +for food. She wrings her hands and moans, +"<i>Mon Dieu, quel monde!</i>" with the idea that she +is helping vastly in the manipulation of the +machinery of the place.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>And the <i>monde</i>; who goes there? It is not too +<i>chic</i>, this <i>monde</i>, and yet it is surely not <i>bourgeois</i>; +if one does not recognize M. Rodin or M. +Georges Feydeau, yet there are compensations.... +The girls who come attended by bearded companions, +are unusually pretty; one sees them afterwards +at the bars and <i>bals</i> if one does not go to +the Abbaye or Pagés.... It makes a very pleasant +picture, the Place du Calvaire towards nine +o'clock on a summer night when tiny lights with +pink globes are placed on the tables. The little +square twinkles with them and the couples at the +tables become very gay, and sometimes sentimental. +And when the pink lights appear a small +boy in blue trousers comes along to light the street +lamp. Then the urchins gather on the wall which +hedges in the garden on the fourth side of the +square and chatter, chatter, chatter, about all +the things that French boys chatter about. +Naturally they have a good deal to say about the +people who are eating.</p> + +<p>I have described the Cou-Cou as it was this +night and as it has been all the nights during the +past eight summers that I have been there. +The dinner too is always the same. It is served <i>à +la carte</i>, but one is not given much choice. There +is always a <i>potage</i>, always <i>spaghetti</i>, always<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +chicken and a salad, always a lobster, and <i>zabaglione</i> +if one wants it. The wine—it is called +<i>chianti</i>—is tolerable. And the <i>addition</i> is made +upon a slate with a piece of white chalk. "<i>Qu'est-ce +que monsieur a mangé?</i>" Sometimes it is very +difficult to remember, but it is necessary. Such +honesty compels an exertion. It is all added up +and for the two of us on this evening, or any other +evening, it may come to nine <i>francs</i>, which is not +much to pay for a good dinner.</p> + +<p>Then, on this evening, and every other evening, +we went on, back as we had come, round past the +other side of Sacré-Coeur, past the statue of the +Chevalier who was martyred for refusing to salute +a procession (why he refused I have never found +out, although I have asked everybody who has ever +dined with me at the Cou-Cou) to the Café Savoyarde, +the broad windows of which look out over +pretty much all the Northeast of Paris, over a +glittering labyrinth of lights set in an obscure +sea of darkness. It was not far from here that +Louise and Julien kept house when they were interrupted +by Louise's mother, and it was looking +down over these lights that they swore those eternal +vows, ending with Louise's "<i>C'est une Féerie!</i>" +and Julien's "<i>Non, c'est la vie!</i>" One always +remembers these things and feels them at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +Savoyarde as keenly as one did sometime in the +remote past watching Mary Garden and Léon +Beyle from the topmost gallery of the Opéra-Comique +after an hour and a half wait in the +<i>queue</i> for one <i>franc</i> tickets (there were always +people turned away from performances of <i>Louise</i> +and so it was necessary to be there early; some +other operas did not demand such punctuality). +There is a terrace outside the Savoyarde, a tiny +terrace, with just room for one man, who griddles +<i>gaufrettes</i>, and three or four tiny tables with +chairs. At one of these we sat that night (just +as I had sat so many times before) and sipped our +cognac.</p> + +<p>It is difficult in an adventure to remember just +when the departure comes, when one leaves the +past and strides into the future, but I think that +moment befell me in this café ... for it was the +first time I had ever seen a cat there. He was a +lazy, splendid animal. In New York he would have +been an oddity, but in Paris there are many such +beasts. Tawny he was and soft to the touch and +of a hugeness. He was lying on the bar and as I +stroked his coat he purred melifluously.... I +stroked his warm fur and thought how I belonged +to the mystic band (Gautier, Baudelaire, Mérimée, +all knew the secrets) of those who are <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>acquainted +with cats; it is a feeling of pride we have +that differentiates us from the dog lovers, the +pride of the appreciation of indifference or of +conscious preference. And it was, I think, as I +was stroking the cat that my past was smote +away from me and I was projected into the adventure +for, as I lifted the animal into my arms, +the better to feel its warmth and softness, it +sprang with strength and unsheathed claws out +of my embrace, and soon was back on the bar +again, "just as if nothing had happened." There +was blood on my face. Madame, behind the bar, +was apologetic but not chastening. "<i>Il avait +peur</i>," she said. "<i>Il n'est pas méchant.</i>" The +wound was not deep, and as I bent to pet the cat +again he again purred. I had interfered with his +habits and, as I discovered later, he had interfered +with mine.</p> + +<p>We decided to walk down the hill instead of +riding down in the <i>finiculaire</i>, down the stairs +which form another of the pictures in <i>Louise</i>, with +the abutting houses, into the rooms of which one +looks, conscious of prying. And you see the old +in these interiors, making shoes, or preparing dinner, +or the middle-aged going to bed, but the young +one never sees in the houses in the summer.... +It was early and we decided to dance; I thought of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +the Moulin de la Galette, which I had visited twice +before. The Moulin de la Galette waves its gaunt +arms in the air half way up the <i>butte</i> of Montmartre; +it serves its purpose as a dance hall of the +quarter. One meets the pretty little <i>Montmartroises</i> +there and the young artists; the entrance +fee is not exorbitant and one may drink a bock. +And when I have been there, sitting at a small +table facing the somewhat vivid mural decoration +which runs the length of one wall, drinking my +brown <i>bock</i>, I have remembered the story which +Mary Garden once told me, how Albert Carré to +celebrate the hundredth—or was it the twenty-fifth?—performance +of <i>Louise</i>, gave a dinner +there—so near to the scenes he had conceived—to +Charpentier and how, surrounded by some of +the most notable musicians and poets of France, +the composer had suddenly fallen from the table, +face downwards; he had starved himself so long to +complete his masterpiece that food did not seem +to nourish him. It was the end of a brilliant dinner. +He was carried away ... to the Riviera; +some said that he had lost his mind; some said +that he was dying. Mary Garden herself did not +know, at the time she first sang <i>Louise</i> in America, +what had happened to him. But a little later the +rumour that he was writing a trilogy was spread<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +about and soon it was a known fact that at least +one other part of the trilogy had been written, +<i>Julien</i>; that lyric drama was produced and everybody +knows the story of its failure. Charpentier, +the natural philosopher and the poet of Montmartre, +had said everything he had to say in +<i>Louise</i>. As for the third play, one has heard +nothing about that yet.</p> + +<p>But on this evening the Moulin de la Galette was +closed and then I remembered that it was open on +Thursday and this was Wednesday. Is it +Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday that the Moulin +de la Galette is open? I think so. By this time +we were determined to dance; but where? We had +no desire to go to some stupid place, common to +tourists, no such place as the Bal Tabarin lured +us; nor did the Grelot in the Place Blanche, for +we had been there a night or two before. The +Elysée Montmartre (celebrated by George Moore) +would be closed. Its <i>patron</i> followed the schedule +of days adopted for the Galette.... To chance +I turn in such dilemmas.... I consulted a small +boy, who, with his companion, had been good +enough to guide us through many winding streets +to the Moulin. Certainly he knew of a <i>bal</i>. +Would <i>monsieur</i> care to visit a <i>bal musette</i>? His +companion was horrified. I caught the phrase<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +"<i>mal frequenté</i>." Our curiosity was aroused and +we gave the signal to advance.</p> + +<p>There were two grounds for my personal curiosity +beyond the more obvious ones. I seemed +to remember to have read somewhere that the +ladies of the court of Louis XIV played the +<i>musette</i>, which is French for bag-pipe. It was the +fashionable instrument of an epoch and the <i>musettes</i> +played by the <i>grandes dames</i> were elaborately +decorated. The word in time slunk into +the dictionaries of musical terms as descriptive of +a drone bass. Many of Gluck's ballet airs bear +the title, <i>Musette</i>. Perhaps the bass was even performed +on a bag-pipe.... "<i>Mal frequenté</i>" in +Parisian <i>argot</i> has a variety of significations; in +this particular instance it suggested <i>apaches</i> to +me. A <i>bal</i>, for instance, attended by <i>cocottes</i>, +<i>mannequins</i>, or <i>modèles</i>, could not be described as +<i>mal frequenté</i> unless one were speaking to a boarding +school miss, for all the public <i>bals</i> in Paris are +so attended. No, the words spoken to me, in this +connection, could only mean <i>apaches</i>. The confusion +of epochs began to invite my interest and I +wondered, in my mind's eye, how a Louis XIV +<i>apache</i> would dress, how he would be represented +at a costume ball, and a picture of a ragged silk-betrousered +person, flaunting a plaid-bellied <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>instrument +came to mind. An imagination often +leads one violently astray.</p> + +<p>The two urchins were marching us through +street after street, one of them whistling that +pleasing tune, <i>Le lendemain elle était souriante</i>. +Dark passage ways intervened between us and our +destination: we threaded them. The cobble stones +of the underfoot were not easy to walk on for my +companion, shod in high-heels from the Place +Vendôme.... The urchins amused each other +and us by capers on the way. They could have +made our speed walking on their hands, and they +accomplished at least a third of the journey this +way. Of course, I deluged them with large round +five and ten <i>centimes</i> pieces.</p> + +<p>We arrived at last before a door in a short +street near the Gare du Nord. Was it the Rue +Jessaint? I do not know, for when, a year later, +I attempted to re-find this <i>bal</i> it had disappeared.... +We could hear the hum of the pipes for some +paces before we turned the corner into the street, +and never have pipes sounded in my ears with +such a shrill significance of being somewhere they +ought not to be, never but once, and that was +when I had heard the piper who accompanies the +dinner of the Governor of the Bahamas in Nassau. +Marching round the porch of the Governor's Villa<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +he played <i>The Blue Bells of Scotland</i> and <i>God +Save the King</i>, but, hearing the sound from a distance +through the interstices of the cocoa-palm +fronds in the hot tropical night, I could only think +of a Hindoo blowing the pipes in India, the charming +of snakes.... So, as we turned the corner +into the Rue Jessaint, I seemed to catch a faint +glimpse of a scene on the lawn at Versailles.... +Louis XIV—it was the epoch of Cinderella!</p> + +<p>But it wasn't a bag-pipe at all. That we discovered +when we entered the room, after passing +through the bar in the front. The <i>bal</i> was conducted +in a large hall at the back of the <i>maison</i>. +In the doorway lounged an <i>agent de service</i>, always +a guest at one of these functions, I found out +later. There were rows of tables, long tables, with +long wooden benches placed between them. One +corner of the floor was cleared—not so large a +corner either—for dancing, and on a small platform +sat the strangest looking youth, like Peter +Pan never to grow old, like the <i>Monna Lisa</i> a boy +of a thousand years, without emotion or expression +of any sort. He was playing an accordion; +the bag-pipe, symbol of the <i>bal</i>, hung disused on +the wall over his head. His accordion, manipulated +with great skill, was augmented by sleigh-bells +attached to his ankles in such a manner that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +a minimum of movement produced a maximum of +effect; he further added to the complexity of sound +and rhythm by striking a cymbal occasionally +with one of his feet. The music was both rhythmic +and ordered, now a waltz, now a tune in two-four +time, but never faster or slower, and never +ending ... except in the middle of each dance, +for a brief few seconds, while the <i>patronne</i> collected +a <i>sou</i> from each dancer, after which the +dance proceeded. All the time we remained never +did the musician smile, except twice, once briefly +when I sent word to him by the waiter to order a +<i>consommation</i> and once, at some length, when we +departed. On these occasions the effect was almost +emotionally illuminating, so inexpressive was +the ordinary cast of his features. A strange lad; +I like to think of him always sitting there, passively, +playing the accordion and shaking his +sleigh-bells. He suggested a static picture, a +thing of always, but I know it is not so, for even +the next summer he had disappeared along with +the <i>bal</i> and now he may have been shot in the +Battle of the Marne or he may have murdered his +<i>gigolette</i> and been transported to one of the +French penal colonies.... An <i>apache, en musicien!</i> ... +black cloth around his throat, hair +parted in the middle, <i>velours</i> trousers; a <i>vrai<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +apache</i> I tell you, a cool, cunning creature, +shredded with cocaine and absinthe, monotonous in +his virtuosity, playing the accordion. He had +begun before we arrived and he continued after we +left. I like to think of him as always playing, +but it is not so....</p> + +<p>As for the dancers, they were of various kinds +and sorts. The women had that air which gave +them the stamp of a quarter; they wore loose +<i>blouses</i>, tucked in plaid skirts, or dark blue skirts, +or multi-coloured calico skirts (if you have seen +the lithographs of Steinlen you may reconstruct +the picture with no difficulty) and they danced in +that peculiar fashion so much in vogue in the +Northern outskirts of Paris. The men seized +them tightly and they whirled to the inexorable +music when it was a waltz, whirled and whirled, +until one thought of the Viennese and how they +become as dervishes and Japanese mice when one +plays Johann Strauss. But in the dances in two-four +time their way was more our way, something +between a one-step, a mattchiche, and a tango, +with strange fascinating steps of their own devising, +a folk-dance manner.... Yes, under their +feet, the dance became a real dance of the people +and, when we entered into it, our feet seemed heavy +and our steps conventional, although we tried to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +do what they did. (How they did laugh at us!) +And the strange youth emphasized the effect of +folk-dancing by playing old <i>chansons de France</i> +which he mingled with his repertory of <i>café-concert</i> +airs. And there was achieved that wonderful +thing (to an artist) a mixture of <i>genres</i>—intriguing +one's curiosity, awakening the most dormant +interest, and inspiring the dullest imagination.</p> + +<p>This was my first night at a <i>bal musette</i> and +my last in that year, for shortly afterwards I left +for Italy and in Italy one does not dance. But +the next season found me anxious to renew the adventure, +to again enjoy the pleasures of the <i>bal +musette</i>. I have said I was perhaps wrong in recalling +the street as the Rue Jessaint, or perhaps +the old <i>maison</i> had disappeared. At any rate, +when I searched I could not find the <i>bal</i>, not even +the bar. So again I appealed for help, this time +to a chauffeur, who drove me to the opposite side +of the city, to the <i>quartier</i> of the <i>Halles</i>.... +And I was beginning to think that the man had misunderstood +me, or was stupid. "He will take me +to a cabaret, l'Ange Gabriel or"—and I rapidly +revolved in my mind the possibilities of this quarter +where the <i>apaches</i> come to the surface to feel +the purse of the tourist, who buys drinks as he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +listens to stories of murders, some of which have +been committed, for it is true that some of the +real <i>apaches</i> go there (I know because my friend +Fernand did and it was in l'Ange Gabriel that he +knocked all the teeth down the throat of Angélique, +<i>sa gigolette</i>. You may find the life of these +creatures vividly and amusingly described in that +amazing book of Charles-Henry Hirsch, "Le Tigre +et Coquelicot" It is the only book I have read +about the <i>apaches</i> of modern Paris that is worth +its pages). But the idea of l'Ange Gabriel was +not amusing to me this evening and I leaned forward +to ask my chauffeur if he had it in mind to +substitute another attraction for my desired <i>bal +musette</i>. His reply was reassuring; it took the +form of a gesture, the waving of a hand towards a +small lighted globe depending over the door of a +little <i>marchand de vin</i>. On this globe was painted +in black letters the single word, <i>bal</i>. We were in +the narrow Rue des Gravilliers—I was there for +the first time—and the <i>bal</i> was the Bal des Gravilliers.</p> + +<p>The bar is so small, when one enters, that there +is no intimation of the really splendid aspect of +the dancing room. For here there are two rooms +separated by the dancing floor, two halls filled +with tables, with long wooden benches between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +them. Benches also line the walls, which are white +with a grey-blue frieze; the lighting is brilliant. +The musicians play in a little balcony, and here +there are two of them, an accordionist and a +guitarist. The performer on the accordion is a +<i>virtuoso</i>; he takes delight in winding florid ornament, +after the manner of some brilliant singer +impersonating Rosina in <i>Il Barbiere</i>, around +the melodies he performs. As in the Rue Jessaint +a <i>sou</i> is demanded in the middle of each dance. +But there comparison must cease, for the life here +is gayer, more of a character. The types are of +the <i>Halles</i>.... There are strange exits....</p> + +<p>A short woman enters; "<i>elle s'avance en se +balançant sur ses hanches comme une pouliche du +haras de Cordoue</i>"; she suggests an operatic Carmen +in her swagger. She is slender, with short, +dark hair, cropped <i>à la</i> Boutet de Monvel, and she +flourishes a cigarette, the smoke from which +wreathes upward and obscures—nay makes more +subtle—the strange poignancy of her deep blue +eyes. Her nose is of a snubness. It is the <i>môme</i> +Estelle, and as she passes down the narrow aisle, +between the tables, there is a stir of excitement.... +The men raise their eyes.... Edouard, <i>le +petit</i>, flicks a <i>louis</i> carelessly between his thumb +and fore-finger, with the long dirty nails, and then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +passes it back into his pocket. Do not mistake +the gesture; it is not made to entice the <i>môme</i>, nor +is it a sign of affluence; it is Edouard's means of +demanding another <i>louis</i> before the night is up, if +it be only a "<i>louis de dix francs</i>." Estelle looks +at him boldly; there is no fear in her eyes; you can +see that she would face death with Carmen's calm +if the Fates cut the thread to that effect.... +The music begins and Estelle dances with Carmella, +<i>l'Arabe</i>. Edouard glowers and pulls his +little grey cap down tower.... It is a waltz.... +Suddenly he is on the floor and Estelle is +pressed close to his body.... Carmella sits +down. She smiles, and presently she is dancing +with Jean-Baptiste.... Estelle and Edouard are +now whirling, whirling, and all the while his dark +eyes look down piercingly into her blue eyes. The +music stops. Estelle fumbles in her stocking for +two <i>sous</i>. Edouard lights a <i>Maryland</i>.</p> + +<p>There is a newcomer tonight. (I am talking +to the <i>agent de service</i>.) She is of a youth and +she is certainly from Brittany. I see her sitting +in a corner, waiting for something, trying to know. +"She will learn," says my friend, "She will learn +to pay like the others." That is the <i>gros</i> Pierre +who regards her. He twirls his moustache and +considers, and in the end he lumbers to her and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +asks her to dance. She is willing to do so, but the +intensity of Pierre frightens her, frightens and intrigues.... +There is a sign on the wall that one +must not stamp one's feet, but no other prohibition.... +He twists her finger purposely as they +whirl ... and whirl. She cowers. <i>Gros</i> Pierre +is very big and strong. "<i>T'es bath, môme</i>," I +hear him say, as they pass me by.... The dance +over, he towers above her for a brief second before +he swaggers out.... Estelle smiles. Her lips +move and she speaks quickly to Edouard, <i>le petit</i>.... +He does not listen. Why should he listen to +his <i>gigolette</i>? She is wasting her time here anyway. +He becomes impatient.... Carmella +smiles across the room in a brief second of chance +and Estelle answers the smile. Carmella holds up +three fingers (it is now 1.30). Estelle nods her +head quickly. The musicians are always playing, +except in the middle of the dance when <i>madame, la +patronne</i>, gathers in the <i>sous</i>.... Only from +one she takes nothing.... He is twenty and very +blonde and he is dancing with <i>Madame</i>.... Between +dances she pays his <i>consommations</i>.... +Estelle rises slowly and walks out while Carmella, +<i>l'Arabe</i>, follows her with his eyes. Edouard, <i>le +petit</i>, lights a <i>Maryland</i> and poises a <i>louis</i> between +his thumb and fore-finger, the nails of which are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +long and dirty.... The music is always playing.... +The little girl from Brittany is again alone +in the corner. There is fear in her face. She is +beginning to know. She summons her courage and +walks to the door, on through.... The <i>agent de +service</i> twirls his moustache and points after her. +"She soon will know." I follow. She hesitates +for a second at the street door and then starts +towards the corner.... She reaches the corner +and passes around it.... I hear a scream ... +the sound of running footsteps ... the beat of +a horse's hoofs ... the rolling of wheels on the +cobble stones....</p> + + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>November 11, 1915.</i></span><br /> +</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="Cooking" id="Cooking"></a>Music and Cooking</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><i>"Give me some music,—music, moody food</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Of us that trade in love."</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Shakespeare's <i>Cleopatra</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Music_and_Cooking" id="Music_and_Cooking"></a>Music and Cooking</h2> + + +<p>It is my firm belief that there is an intimate +relationship between the stomach and the ear, +the saucepan and the crotchet, the mysteries +of Mrs. Rorer and the mysteries of Mme. Marchesi. +It has even occurred to me that one of the +reasons our American composers are so barren in +ideas is because as a race we are not interested in +cooking and eating. Those countries in which +music plays the greater part in the national life +are precisely those which are the most interested in +the culinary art. The food of Italy, the cooking, +is celebrated; every peasant in that sunny land +sings, and the voices of some Italians have reverberated +around the world. The very melodies of +Verdi and Rossini are inextricably twined in our +minds around memories of <i>ravioli</i> and <i>zabaglione</i>. +<i>Vesti la Giubba</i> is <i>spaghetti</i>. The composers of +these melodies and their interpreters alike cooked, +ate, and drank with joy, and so they composed and +sang with joy too. Men with indigestion may be +able to write novels, but they cannot compose great +music.... The Germans spend more time eating +than the people of any other country (at least they +did once). It is small occasion for wonder, therefore,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +that they produce so many musicians. They +are always eating, mammoth plates heaped high +with Bavarian cabbage, <i>Koenigsberger Klopps</i>, +<i>Hasenpfeffer</i>, noodles, sauerkraut, <i>Wiener Schnitzel</i> ... drinking +seidels of beer. They escort +sausages with them to the opera. All the women +have their skirts honeycombed with capacious +pockets, in which they carry substantial lunches to +eat while Isolde is deceiving King Mark. Why, +the very principle of German music is based on a +theory of well-fed auditors. The voluptuous +scores of Richard Wagner, Richard Strauss, Max +Schillings and Co. were not written for skinny, ill-nourished +wights. Even Beethoven demands flesh +and bone of his hearers. The music of Bach is +directly aimed against the doctrine of asceticism. +"The German capacity for feeling emotion in +music has developed to the same extent as the +capacity of the German stomach for containing +food," writes Ernest Newman, "but in neither the +one case nor the other has there been a corresponding +development in refinement of perceptions. +German sentimental music is not quite as gross as +German food and German feeding, but it comes +very near to it sometimes.... 'The Germans do +not taste,' said Montaigne, 'they gulp.' As with +their food, so with the emotions of their music.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +So long as they get them in sufficient mass, of the +traditional quality, and with the traditional pungent +seasoning, they are content to leave piquancy +and variety of effect to others."... Once in +Munich in a second storey window of the Bayerischebank +I saw a small boy, about ten years old, +sitting outside on the sill, washing the panes of +glass. Opposite him on the same sill a dachshund +reposed on her paws, regarding her master affectionately. +Between the two stood a half-filled +toby of foaming Löwenbrau, which, from time to +time, the lad raised to his lips, quaffing deep +draughts. And when he set the pot down he whistled +the first subject of Beethoven's <i>Fifth Symphony</i>. +On Sunday afternoons, in the gardens +which invariably surround the Munich breweries, +the happy mothers, who gather to listen to the +band play while they drink beer, frequently replenish +the empty nursing bottles of their offspring at +the taps from which flows the deep brown beverage.... +The food of the French is highly artificial, +delicately prepared and served, and flavoured with +infinite art: <i>vol au vent à la reine</i> and Massenet, +<i>petits pois à l'etuvée</i> and Gounod, <i>oeuf Ste. Clotilde</i> +and César Franck, all strike the tongue and +the ear quite pleasantly. Des Esseintes and his +liqueur symphony were the inventions of a Frenchman....<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +Hungarian goulash and Hungarian +rhapsodies are certainly designed to be taken in +conjunction.... Russian music tastes of <i>kascha</i> +and <i>bortsch</i> and vodka. The happy, hearty eaters +of Russia, the drunken, sodden drinkers of Russia +are reflected in the scores of <i>Boris Godunow</i> +and <i>Petrouchka</i>.... In England we find that the +great English meat pasties and puddings appeared +in the same century with the immortal Purcell.... +But in America we import our cooks +... and our music. As a race we do not like to +cook. We scarcely like to eat. We certainly do +not enjoy eating. We will never have a national +music until we have national dishes and national +drinks and until we like good food. It is significant +that our national drinks at present are +mixed drinks, the ingredients of which are foreign. +It is doubly significant that that section of the +country which produces chicken <i>à la Maryland</i>, +corn bread, beaten biscuit, mint juleps, and New +Orleans fizzes has furnished us with the best of +such music as we can boast. Maine has offered us +no <i>Suwanee River</i>; we owe no <i>Swing Low, Sweet +Chariot</i> to Nebraska. The best of our ragtime +composers are Jews, a race which regards eating +and cooking of sufficient importance to include<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +rules for the preparation and disposition of food +in its religious tenets.</p> + +<p>Most musicians and those who enjoy listening to +music, like to eat (this does not mean that people +who like to eat always desire to listen to music at +the same time, but nowadays one has little choice +in the matter); what is more pregnant, most of +them like to cook. We may include even the music +critics, one of whom (Henry T. Finck) has written +a book about such matters. The others eat +... and expand. James Huneker devotes sixteen +pages of "The New Cosmopolis" to the "maw of +the monster." And as H. L. Mencken has pointed +out, "The Pilsner motive runs through the book +from cover to cover." Dinners are constantly +being given for the musicians and critics to meet +and talk over thirteen courses with wine. You +may read Mr. Krehbiel's glowing accounts of the +dinner given to Adelina Patti (a dinner referred +to in Joseph Hergesheimer's lyric novel, "The +Three Black Pennys") on the occasion of her +twenty-fifth anniversary as a singer, of the dinner +to Marcella Sembrich to mark her retirement +from the opera stage, and of a dinner to Teresa +Carreño when she proposed a toast to her three +husbands.... Go to the opera house and observe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +the lady singers, with their ample bosoms and +their broad hips, the men with their expansive +paunches ... and use your imagination. Why +is it, when a singer is interviewed for a newspaper, +that she invariably finds herself tired of +hotel food and wants an apartment of her own, +where she can cook to her stomach's content? +Why are the musical journals and the Sunday +supplements of the newspapers always publishing +pictures of contralti with their sleeves rolled back +to the elbows, their Poiret gowns (cunningly and +carefully exhibited nevertheless) covered with +aprons, baking bread, turning omelettes, or preparing +clam broth Uncle Sam? You, my reader, +have surely seen these pictures, but it has perhaps +not occurred to you to conjure up a reason for +them.</p> + +<p>Edgar Saltus says: "A perfect dinner should +resemble a concert. As the <i>morceaux</i> succeed each +other, so, too, should the names of the composers." +Few dinners in New York may be regarded as concerts +and still fewer restaurants may be looked +upon as concert halls, except, unfortunately, in +the literal sense. However, if you can find a restaurant +where opera singers and conductors eat +you may be sure it is a good one. Huneker describes +the old Lienau's, where William Steinway,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +Anton Seidl, Theodore Thomas, Scharwenka, +Joseffy, Lilli Lehmann, Max Heinrich, and Victor +Herbert used to gather. Follow Alfred Hertz and +you will be in excellent company in a double sense. +Then watch him consume a plateful of Viennese +pastry. If you have ever seen Emmy Destinn or +Feodor Chaliapine eat you will feel that justice has +been done to a meal. I once sat with the Russian +bass for twelve hours, all of which time he was +eating or drinking. He began with six plates of +steaming onion soup (cooked with cheese and +toast). The old New Year's eve festivities at the +Gadski-Tauschers' resembled the storied banquets +of the middle ages.... Boars' heads, meat +pies, <i>salade macédoine</i>, <i>coeur de palmier</i>, <i>hollandaise</i> +were washed down with magnums and quarts +of Irroy brut, 1900, Pol Roger, Chambertin, +graceful Bohemian crystal goblets of Liebfraumilch +and Johannisberger Schloss-Auslese. +Mary Garden once sent a jewelled gift to the <i>chef</i> +at the Ritz-Carlton in return for a superb fish +sauce which he had contrived for her. H. E. +Krehbiel says that Brignoli "probably ate as no +tenor ever ate before or since—ravenously as a +Prussian dragoon after a fast." <i>Pêche Melba</i> has +become a stable article on many menus in many +cities in many lands. Agnes G. Murphy, in her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +biography of Mme. Melba, says that one day the +singer, Joachim, and a party of friends stopped +at a peasant's cottage near Bergamo, where they +were regaled with such delicious macaroni that +Melba persuaded her friends to return another day +and wait while the peasant taught her the exact +method of preparing the dish. In at least one +New York restaurant <i>oeuf Toscanini</i> is to be found +on the bill. I have heard Olive Fremstad complain +of the cooking in this hotel in Paris, or that +hotel in New York, or the other hotel in Munich, +and when she found herself in an apartment of her +own she immediately set about to cook a few special +dishes for herself.</p> + +<p>Two musicians I know not only keep restaurants +in New York, but actually prepare the dinners +themselves. One of them is at the same time a +singer in the Metropolitan Opera Company. +Have you seen Bernard Bégué standing before his +cook stove preparing food for his patrons? His +huge form, clad in white, viewed through the +open doorway connecting the dining room with the +kitchen, almost conceals the great stove, but occasionally +you can catch sight of the pots and +pans, the <i>casseroles</i> of <i>pot-au-feu</i>, the roasting +chicken, the filets of sole, all the ingredients of a +dinner, <i>cuisine bourgeoise</i> ... and after dining,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +you can hear Bégué sing the Uncle-priest in +<i>Madama Butterfly</i> at the Opera House.</p> + +<p>Or have you seen Giacomo (and have not +Meyerbeer and Puccini been bearers of this +name?) Pogliani turning from the <i>spaghetti</i> theme +chromatically to that of the <i>risotto</i>, the most succulent +and appetizing <i>risotto</i> to be tasted this side +of Bonvecchiati's in Venice ... or the <i>polenta</i> +with <i>funghi</i>.... But, best of all, the roasts, and +were it not that the Prince Troubetskoy is a +vegetarian you would fancy that he came to +Pogliani's for these viands. And it must not be +forgotten that this supreme cook is—or was—a +bassoon player of the first rank, that he is a +graduate of the Milan Conservatory. The bassoon +is a difficult instrument. It is sometimes +called the "comedian of the orchestra," but there +are few who can play it at all, still fewer who can +play it well. Bassoonists are highly paid and +they are in demand. Walter Damrosch used to +say that when he was engaging a bassoon player +he would ask him to play a passage from the +bassoon part in <i>Scheherazade</i>. If he could play +that, he could play anything else written for his +instrument. Pogliani gave up the bassoon for the +fork, spoon, and saucepan. Like Prospero he +buried his magic wand and in Viafora's cartoon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +the instrument lies idle in the cobwebs.</p> + +<p>Charles Santley's "Reminiscences" and "Student +and Singer" are full of references to food: +"ox-hearts, stuffed with onions," "a joint of +meat, well cooked, with a bright brown crust which +prevented the juices escaping," "a splendid shoulder +of mutton, a picture to behold, and a <i>peas pudding</i>," +and "whaffles" are a few of the dishes referred +to with enthusiasm. In America a newspaper +gravely informed its readers that "Santley +says squash pie is the best thing to sing on he +knows!" Santley was a true pantophagist, but +he was worsted in his first encounter with the +American oyster: "I had often heard of the celebrated +American oyster, which half a dozen people +had tried to swallow without success, and was +anxious to learn if the story were founded on fact. +Cummings conducted me to a cellar in Broadway, +where, upon his order, a waiter produced two +plates, on which were half a dozen objects, about +the size and shape of the sole of an ordinary lady's +shoe, on each of which lay what appeared to me +to be a very bilious tongue, accompanied by +smaller plates containing shredded white cabbage +raw. I did not admire the look of the repast, but +I never discard food on account of looks. I took +up an oyster and tried to get it into my mouth,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +but it was of no use; I tried to ram it in with the +butt-end of the fork, but all to no purpose, and I +had to drop it, and, to the great indignation of the +waiter, paid and left the oysters for him to dispose +of as he might like best. I presume those +oysters are eaten, but I cannot imagine by whom; +I have rarely seen a mouth capable of the necessary +expansion. I soon found out that there +were plenty of delicious oysters in the States +within the compass of ordinary jaws."</p> + +<p>J. H. Mapleson says in his "Memoirs" that at +the Opera at Lodi, where he made his début as a +tenor, refreshments of all kinds were served to the +audience between the acts and every box was furnished +with a little kitchen for cooking macaroni +and baking or frying pastry. The wine of the +country was drunk freely, not out of glasses, but +"in classical fashion—from bowls." Mapleson +also tells us that Del Puente was a "very tolerable +cook." On one trying occasion he prepared +macaroni for his impressario. Michael Kelly declares +that the sight of Signor St. Giorgio entering +a fruit shop to eat peaches, nectarines, and a pineapple, +was really what stimulated him to study for +a career on the stage. "While my mouth watered, +I asked myself why, if I assiduously studied music, +I should not be able to earn money enough to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +lounge about in fruit-shops, and eat peaches and +pineapples as well as Signor St. Giorgio...."</p> + +<p>Lillian Russell is a good cook. I can recommend +her recipe for the preparation of mushrooms: +"Put a lump of butter in a chafing dish +(or a saucepan) and a slice of Spanish onion and +the mushrooms minus the stems; let them simmer +until they are all deliciously tender and the juice +has run from them—about twenty minutes should +be enough—then add a cupful of cream and let +this boil. As a last touch squeeze in the juice of +a lemon." When Luisa Tetrazzini was going mad +with a flute in our vicinity she varied the monotony +of her life by sending pages of her favourite recipes +to the Sunday yellow press. Unfortunately, I +neglected to make a collection of this series. A +passion for cooking caused the death of Naldi, a +buffo singer of the early Nineteenth Century. +Michael Kelly tells the story: "His ill stars took +him to Paris, where, one day, just before dinner, +at his friend Garcia's house, in the year 1821, he +was showing the method of cooking by steam, with +a portable apparatus for that purpose; unfortunately, +in consequence of some derangement of +the machinery, an explosion took place, by which +he was instantaneously killed." Almost everybody +knows some story or other about a <i>virtuoso</i>,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +trapped into dining and asked to perform after +dinner by his host. Kelly relates one of the first: +"Fischer, the great oboe player, whose minuet +was then all the rage ... being very much +pressed by a nobleman to sup with him after the +opera, declined the invitation, saying that he was +usually much fatigued, and made it a rule never to +go out after the evening's performance. The +noble lord would, however, take no denial, and assured +Fischer that he did not ask him professionally, +but merely for the gratification of his society +and conversation. Thus urged and encouraged, +he went; he had not, however, been many +minutes in the house of the consistent nobleman, +before his lordship approached him, and said, 'I +hope, Mr. Fischer, you have brought your oboe in +your pocket.'—'No, my Lord,' said Fischer, 'my +oboe never sups.' He turned on his heel, and instantly +left the house, and no persuasion could +ever induce him to return to it." You perhaps +have heard rumours that Giuseppe Campanari prefers +<i>spaghetti</i> to Mozart, especially when he cooks +it himself. When this baritone was a member of +the Metropolitan Opera Company his paraphernalia +for preparing his favourite food went everywhere +with him on tour. Heinrich Conried (or +was it Maurice Grau?) once tried to take <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>advantage +of this weakness, according to a story +often related by the late Algernon St. John Brenon. +Campanari was to appear as Kothner in <i>Die Meistersinger</i>, +a character with no singing to do after +the first act, although he appears in the procession +in the third act. The singer told his impressario +that he saw no reason why he should remain to the +end and explained that he would leave his costume +for a chorus man to don to represent him in the +final episode. "What would the Master say?" +demanded Conried, wringing his hands. "Would +he approve of such a proceeding? No. That +would not be truth! That would not be art!" +Campanari was obdurate. The Herr Direktor became +reflective. He was silent for a moment and +then he continued: "If you will stay for the last +act you will find in your room a little supper, +a bottle of wine, and a box of cigars, which you +may consume while you are waiting." In sooth +when Campanari entered his dressing room after +the first act of Wagner's comic opera he found that +his director had kept his word.... The baritone +ate the supper, drank the wine, put the cigars in +his pocket ... and went home!</p> + +<p>If some singers are good cooks it does not follow +that all good cooks are singers. Benjamin +Lumley, in his "Reminiscences of the Opera," tells<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +the sad story of the Countess of Cannazaro's cook, +which should serve as a lesson to housemaids who +are desirous of becoming moving picture stars. +"This worthy man, excellent no doubt as a <i>chef</i>, +took it into his head that he was a vocalist of the +highest order, and that he only wanted opportunity +to earn musical distinction. His strange +fancy came to the knowledge of Rubini, and it was +arranged that a performance should take place in +the morning, in which the cook's talent should be +fairly tested. Certainly every chance was afforded +him. Not only was he encouraged by +Rubini and Lablache (whose gravity on the occasion +was wonderful), but by a few others, Costa +included, as instrumentalists. The failure was +miserable, ridiculous, as everybody expected." +Frederick Crowest describes a certain Count Castel +de Maria who had a spit that played tunes, +"and so regulated and indicated the condition of +whatever was hung upon it to roast. By a singular +mechanical contrivance this wonderful spit +would strike up an appropriate tune whenever a +joint had hung sufficiently long on its particular +roast. Thus, <i>Oh! the roast beef of Old England</i>, +when a sirloin had turned and hung its appointed +time. At another air, a leg of mutton, <i>à l'Anglaise</i> +would be found excellent; while some other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +tune would indicate that a fowl <i>à la Flamande</i> was +cooked to a nicety and needed removal from the +fowl roast."</p> + +<p>To Crowest, too, I am indebted for a list of +beverages and eatables which certain singers held +in superstitious awe as capable of refreshing their +voices. Formes swore by a pot of good porter +and Wachtel is said to have trusted to the yolk of +an egg beaten up with sugar to make sure of his +high Cs. The Swedish tenor, Labatt, declared +that two salted cucumbers gave the voice the true +metallic ring. Walter drank cold black coffee +during a performance; Southeim took snuff and +cold lemonade; Steger, beer; Niemann, champagne, +slightly warmed, (Huneker once saw Niemann +drinking cocktails from a beer glass; he +sang Siegmund at the opera the next night); +Tichatschek, mulled claret; Rübgam drank mead; +Nachbaur ate bonbons; Arabanek believed in Gampoldskirchner +wine. Mlle. Brann-Brini took beer +and <i>cafe au lait</i>, but she also firmly believed in +champagne and would never dare venture the great +duet in the fourth act of <i>Les Huguenots</i> without a +bottle of Moët Crémant Rose. Giardini being +asked his opinion of Banti, previous to her arrival +in England, said: "She is the first singer in Italy +and drinks a bottle of wine every day." Malibran<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +believed in the efficacy of porter. She made her +last appearances in opera in Balfe's <i>Maid of Artois</i> +during the fall of 1836 in London. On the first +night she was in anything but good physical condition +and the author of "Musical Recollections +of the Last Half-Century" tells how she pulled +herself through: "She remembered that an immense +trial awaited her in the finale of the third +act; and finding her strength giving way, she sent +for Mr. Balfe and Mr. Bunn, and told them that +unless they did as they were bid, after all the previous +success, the end might result in failure; but +she said, 'Manage to let me have a pot of porter +somehow or other before I have to sing, and I will +get you an encore which will bring down the house.' +How to manage this was difficult; for the scene was +so set that it seemed scarcely possible to hand her +up 'the pewter' without its being witnessed by the +audience. After much consultation, Malibran +having been assured that her wish should be fulfilled, +it was arranged that the pot of porter +should be handed up to her through a trap in the +stage at the moment when Jules had thrown himself +on her body, supposing that life had fled; and +Mr. Templeton was drilled into the manner in +which he should so manage to conceal the necessary +arrangement, that the audience would never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +suspect what was going on. At the right moment +a friendly hand put the foaming pewter through +the stage, to be swallowed at a draught, and success +was won!... Malibran, however, had not overestimated +her own strength. She knew that it +wanted but this fillip to carry her through. She +had resolved to have an encore, and she had it, in +such a fashion as made the roof of 'Old Drury' +ring as it had never rung before. On the repetition +of the opera and afterwards, a different arrangement +of the stage was made, and a property +calabash containing a pot of porter was used; but +although the same result was constantly won, Malibran +always said it was not half so 'nice,' nor did +her anything like the good it would have done if +she could only have had it out of the pewter." +Clara Louise Kellogg in her very lively "Memoirs" +publishes a similar tale of another singer: +"It was told of Grisi that when she was growing +old and severe exertion told on her she always, +after her fall as Lucrezia Borgia, drank a glass of +beer sent up to her through the floor, lying with +her back half turned to the audience." Miss Kellogg +complains of the breaths of the tenors she +sang with: "Stigelli usually exhaled an aroma of +lager beer; while the good Mazzoleni invariably ate +from one to two pounds of cheese the day he was to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +sing. He said it strengthened his voice. Many +of them affected garlic." It is necessary, of +course, that a singer should know what foods +agree with him. He must keep himself in excellent +physical condition: small wonder that many +artists are superstitious in this regard.</p> + +<p>Charles Santley, who was so fond of eating and +drinking himself, offers some excellent advice +on the subject in "Student and Singer": "How +the voice is produced or where, except that it is +through the passage of the throat, is unimportant; +it is reasonable to say that the passage must +be kept clear, otherwise the sound proceeding from +it will not be clear. I have known many instances +of singers undergoing very disagreeable operations +on their throats for chronic diseases of various +descriptions; now, my observation and experience +assure me that, in ninety-nine cases out +of a hundred, the root of the evil is chronic inattention +to food and raiment. It is a common +thing to hear a singer say, 'I never touch such-and-such +food on the days I sing.' My dear +young friend, unless you are an absolute idiot, +you would not partake of anything on the days +you sing which might disagree with you, or over-tax +your digestive powers; it is on the days you +do not sing you ought more particularly to exercise<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +your judgment and self-denial. I do not offer +the pinched-up pilgarlic who dines off a wizened +apple and a crust of bread as a model for +imitation; at the same time, I warn you seriously +against following the example of the gobbling +glutton who swallows every dish that tempts his +palate."</p> + +<p>Rossini, after he had composed <i>Guillaume Tell</i>, +retired. He was thirty-seven, a man in perfect +health, and he lived thirty-nine years longer, to +the age of seventy-six, yet he never wrote another +opera, hardly indeed did he dip his pen in ink at +all. These facts have seriously disconcerted his +biographers, who are at a loss to assign reasons +for his actions. W. F. Apthorp gives us an ingenious +explanation in "The Opera Past and +Present." He says that after <i>Tell</i> Rossini's pride +would not allow him to return to his earlier Italian +manner, while the hard work needed to produce +more <i>Tells</i> was more than his laziness could stomach.... +Perhaps, but it must be remembered +that Rossini did not retire to his library or his +music room, but to his kitchen. The simple explanation +is that he preferred cooking to composing, +a fact easy to believe (I myself vastly prefer +cooking to writing). He could cook <i>risotto</i> better +than any one else he knew. He was dubbed a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +"hippopotamus in trousers," and for six years before +he died he could not see his toes, he was so fat. +Sir Arthur Sullivan relates an anecdote which +shows that Rossini was conscious of his grossness. +Once in Paris Sullivan introduced Chorley to Rossini, +when the Italian said, "<i>Je vois, avec plaisir, +que monsieur n'a pas de ventre</i>." Chorley indeed +was noticeably slender. Rossini could write more +easily, so his biographers tell us, when he was under +the influence of champagne or some light wine. +His provision merchant once begged him for an +autographed portrait. The composer gave it to +him with the inscription, "To my stomach's best +friend." The tradesman used this souvenir as an +advertisement and largely increased his business +thereby, as such a testimonial from such an acknowledged +epicure had a very definite value. J. +B. Weckerlin asserts that when Rossini dined at +the Rothschild's he first went to the kitchen to pay +his respects to the <i>chef</i>, to look over the menu, and +even to discuss the various dishes, after which he +ascended to the drawing room to greet the family +of the rich banker. Mme. Alboni told Weckerlin +that Rossini had dedicated a piece of music to the +Rothschild's <i>chef</i>.</p> + +<p>Anfossi, we are informed, could compose only +when he was surrounded by smoking fowls and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +Bologna sausages; their fumes seemed to inflame +his imagination, to feed his muse; his brain was +stimulated first through his nose and then through +his stomach. When Gluck wrote music he betook +himself to the open fields, accompanied by at least +two bottles of champagne. Salieri told Michael +Kelly that a comic opera of Gluck's being performed +at the Elector Palatine's theatre, at +Schwetzingen, his Electoral Highness was struck +with the music, and inquired who had composed +it; on being informed that he was an honest German +who loved <i>old wine</i>, his Highness immediately +ordered him a tun of Hock. Beethoven, on the +contrary, seems to have fed on his thoughts occasionally, +although there is evidence that he was not +only a good eater but also a good cook (the +mothers of both Beethoven and Schubert were +cooks in domestic service). There is a story related +of him that about the time he was composing +the <i>Sixth Symphony</i> he walked into a Viennese +restaurant and ordered dinner. While it was +being prepared, he became involved in thought, +and when the waiter returned to serve him, he +said: "Thank you, I have dined!" laid the price +of the dinner on the table, and took his departure. +Grétry, too, lost his appetite when he was composing. +There are numerous references to eating and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +drinking in Mendelssohn's letters. His particular +preferences, according to Sir George Grove, +were for rice milk and cherry pie. Dussek was a +famous eater, and it is said that his ruling passion +eventually killed him. His patron, the Prince of +Benevento, paid the composer eight hundred napoleons +a year, with a free table for three persons, +at which, as a matter of fact, one person +usually presided. A musical historian tells us that +in the summer of 1797 he was dining with three +friends at the Ship Tavern in Greenwich, when +the waiter came and laid a cloth for one person at +the next table, placing thereon a dish of boiled +eels, one of fried flounders, a bowled fowl, a dish +of veal cutlets, and a couple of tarts. Then Dussek +entered and made away with the lot, leaving +but the bones! In W. T. Parke's "Musical +Memoirs" justice is done to the appetite of one +C. F. Baumgarten, for many years leader of the +band and composer at Covent Garden Theatre. +Once at supper after the play he and a friend ate +a full-grown hare between them. He would never +condescend to drink out of anything but a quart +pot. On one occasion, at the request of his +friends, Baumgarten was weighed before and after +dinner. There was eight pounds difference! William +Shield, the composer who wrote many operas<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +for Covent Garden Theatre, beginning aptly +enough with one called <i>The Flitch of Bacon</i>, was +something of an eater. Parke tells how at a dinner +one evening there was a brace of partridges. +The hostess handed Shield one of these to carve +and absent-mindedly he set to and finished it, +while the other guests were forced to make shift +with the other partridge. Handel was a great +eater. He was called the "Saxon Giant," as a +tribute to his genius, but the phrase might have +had a satirical reference to his enormous bulk. +Intending to dine one day at a certain tavern, he +ordered beforehand a dinner for three. At the +hour appointed he sat down to the table and expressed +astonishment that the dinner was not +brought up. The waiter explained that he would +begin serving when the company arrived. "Den +pring up de tinner brestissimo," replied Handel, +"I am de gombany." Lulli never forsook the <i>casserole</i>. +Paganini was as good a cook as he was +a violinist. Parke tells a story of Weichsell, not +too celebrated a musician, but the father of Mrs. +Billington and Charles Weichsell, the violinist: +"He would occasionally supersede the labours of +his cook, and pass a whole day in preparing his +favourite dish, rump-steaks, for the stewing pan; +and after the delicious viand had been placed on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +the dinner-table, together with early green peas +of high price, if it happened that the sauce was not +to his liking he has been known to throw rump-steaks, +and green peas, and all, out of the window, +whilst his wife and children thought themselves fortunate +in not being thrown after them."</p> + +<p>Is there a cooking theme in <i>Siegfried</i> to describe +Mime's brewing? Lavignac and others, who have +listed the <i>Ring motive</i>, have neglected to catalogue +it, but it is mentioned by Old Fogy. Practically +a whole act is taken up in <i>Louise</i> with the preparation +for and consumption of a dinner. Scarpia +eats in <i>Tosca</i> and the heroine kills him with a +table knife. There is much talk of food in <i>Hänsel +und Gretel</i> and there is a supper in <i>The Merry +Wives of Windsor</i>. There are drinking songs in +<i>Don Giovanni</i>, <i>Lucrezia Borgia</i>, <i>Hamlet</i>, <i>La Traviata</i>, +<i>Giroflé-Girofla</i>.... The reference to whiskey +and soda in <i>Madama Butterfly</i> is celebrated. +J. E. Cox, the author of "Musical Recollections," +describes Herr Pischek in the supper scene of <i>Don +Giovanni</i> as "out-heroding Herod by swallowing +glass after glass of champagne like a sot, and +gnawing the drumstick of a fowl, which he held +across his mouth with his fingers, just as any of +his own middle-class countrymen may be seen any +day of the week all the year round at the <i>mit-tag</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +or <i>abend-essen</i> feeding at one of their largely frequented +<i>tables-d'hôte</i>." Eating or drinking on the +stage is always fraught with danger, as Charles +Santley once discovered during Papageno's supper +scene in <i>The Magic Flute</i>: "The supper which +Tamino commands for the hungry Papageno consisted +of pasteboard imitations of good things, but +the cup contained real wine, a small draught of +which I found refreshing on a hot night in July, +amid the dust and heat of the stage. On the +occasion in question I was putting the cup to lips, +when I heard somebody call to me from the wings; +I felt very angry at the interruption, and was +just about to swallow the wine when I heard an +anxious call not to drink. Suspecting something +was wrong, I pretended to drink, and deposited the +cup on the table. Immediately after the scene I +made inquiries about the reason for the caution I +received, and was informed that as each night the +carpenters, who had no right to it, finished what +remained of the wine before the property men, +whose perquisite it was, could lay hold of the cup, +the latter, to give their despoilers a lesson, had +mingled castor-oil with my drink!"</p> + +<p>A young husband of my acquaintance once bemoaned +to me the fact that his wife seemed destined +to become a great singer. "She is such a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +remarkable cook!" he explained to account for his +despondency. I reassured him: "She will cook +with renewed energy when she begins to sing <i>Sieglinde</i> +and <i>Tosca</i>.... She will practise <i>Vissi +d'Arte</i> over the gumbo soup and <i>Du herstes +Wunder</i>! while the Frankfurters are sizzling. Her +trills, her chromatic scales, and her <i>messa di voce</i> +will come right in the kitchen; she will equalize her +scale and learn to breathe correctly bending over +the oven. It is even likely that she will improve +her knowledge of <i>portamento</i> while she is washing +dishes. When she can prepare a succulent roast +suckling pig she will be able to sing <i>Ocean, thou +mighty monster</i>! and she will understand <i>Abscheulicher</i> +when she understands the mysteries of old-fashioned +strawberry shortcake. If you hear her +shrieking <i>Suicidio</i>! invoking Agamemnon, or appealing +to the <i>Casta Diva</i> among the kettles and +pots be not alarmed.... For the love you bear +of good food, man, do not discourage your wife's +ambition. The more she loves to sing, the better +she will cook!"</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>July 17, 1917.</i></span><br /> +</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="Interrupted" id="Interrupted"></a>An Interrupted Conversation</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="center"><i>"We can never depend upon any right adjustment +of emotion to circumstance."</i></p> + +<p class="author"> +Max Beerbohm.<br /> +</p></div> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="An_Interrupted_Conversation" id="An_Interrupted_Conversation"></a>An Interrupted Conversation</h2> + + +<p>Ordinarily one does not learn things +about oneself from Edmund Gosse, but my +discovery that I am a Pyrrhonist is due to +that literary man. A Pyrrhonist, says Mr. Gosse, +is "one who doubts whether it is worth while to +struggle against the trend of things. The man +who continues to cross the road leisurely, although +the cyclists' bells are ringing, is a Pyrrhonist—and +in a very special sense, for the ancient philosopher +who gives his name to the class made himself +conspicuous by refusing to get out of the way +of careering chariots." Now the most unfamiliar +friend I have ever walked with knows my extreme +impassivity at the corners of streets, remembers +the careless attitude with which I saunter from +kerb to kerb, whether it be across the Grand Boulevard, +Piccadilly, or Fifth Avenue. Only once +has this nonchalant defiance of traffic caused me +to come to even temporary grief; that was on the +last night of the year 1913, when, in crossing +Broadway, I became entangled, God knows how, +in the wheels of a swiftly passing vehicle, and +found myself, top hat and all, in the most ignominious +position before I was well aware of what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +had really happened. Then a policeman stooped +over me, book and pencil in hand, and another +held the chauffeur of the victorious taxi-cab at +bay some yards further up the street. But I was +not hurt and I waved them all away with a magnanimous +gesture.... It is owing to this habit +of mine that I often make interesting <i>rencontres</i> +in the middle of streets. It accounts, in fact, for +my running, quite absent-mindedly, plump into +Dickinson Sitgreaves, who is more American than +his name sounds, one August day in Paris.</p> + +<p>It was one of those charming days which make +August perhaps the most delightful month to spend +in Paris, although the facts are not known to +tourists. Many a sly French pair, however, bored +with Trouville, or the season at Aix, take advantage +of the allurements of a Paris August to return +surreptitiously to the boulevards. On this +particular day almost all the seduction of an October +day was in the air, a splendid dull warm-cool +crispness, which filtered down through the +faded chestnut leaves from the sunlight, and left +pale splotches of purple and orange on the +<i>trottoirs</i> ... a really marvellous day, which I +was spending in that most excellent occupation in +Paris of gazing into shops and, passing cafés, staring +into the faces of those who sat on the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span><i>terrasses</i>.... +But this is an occupation for one +alone; so, when I met Sitgreaves, we joined a <i>terrasse</i> +ourselves. We were near the Napolitain +and there he and I sat down and began to talk as +only we two can talk together after long separation. +He explained in the beginning how I +had interrupted him.... There was a <i>fille</i>, some +little Polish beauty who had captivated his senses +a day or so before, brought to him quite by accident +in an hotel where the <i>patron</i> furnished his +clients with such pleasure as the town and his address +book afforded.... I knew the <i>patron</i> myself, +a fluent, amusing sort of person, who had been +a <i>cuirassier</i> and who resembled Mayol ... a <i>café-concert</i> +proprietor of an hotel.... It was his +boast that he had never disappointed a client and +it is certain that he would promise anything. +Some have said that his stock in trade was one +pretty girl, who assumed costumes, ages, hair, and +accents, to please whatever demand was made upon +her, but this I do not believe. There must have +been at least two of them. The Grand Duchess +Anastasia, it was rumoured, had dined with Marcel +at one time, in his little hotel, and certainly +one king had been seen to go there, and one member +of the English royal family, but Marcel remained +simple and obliging.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> + +<p>"When will you look up the little <i>Polonaise</i>?" +I asked, as we sipped <i>Amer Picon</i> and stared with +fresh interest at each new boot and ankle that +passed. Paris in August is like another place in +May.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you come along?" queried Sitgreaves +in reply, "and we could go at once.... +Oh, I know that you are in no mood for pleasure. +You see the point is that I shall have to wait. +Marcel will have to send for the <i>fille</i>. It is a bore +to wait in a room with red curtains and a picture +of <i>Amour et Psyche</i> on the walls.... What have +you been doing?" He paid the <i>consommation</i> +and started to leave without waiting for a reply, +because he knew of my complaisance. I rose with +him and we walked down the boulevard.</p> + +<p>"What is there to do in Paris in August but +to enjoy oneself?" I asked. "I have made friends +with an <i>apache</i> and his <i>gigolette</i>. We eat bread +and cheese and drink bad wine on the fortifications.... +In the afternoon I walk. Sometimes I go to +the Luxembourg gardens to hear the band bray +sad music, or to watch the little boys play <i>diavolo</i>, +or sail their tiny boats about the fountain pond; +sometimes I walk quite silently up the Avenue +Gabriel, with its <i>triste</i> line of trees, and dream +that I am a Grand Duke; in the evening there are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +again the <i>terrasses</i> of the cafés, dinner in Montmartre +at the Clou, or the Cou-Cou, a <i>revue</i> at La +Cigale, but it is all governed, my day and my night, +by what happens and by whom I meet.... Have +you seen Jacques Blanche's portrait of Nijinsky?"</p> + +<p>"I think it is Picasso that interests me now," +Sitgreaves was saying. "He puts wood and pieces +of paper into his composition; architecture, that's +what it is.... I don't go to Blanche's any more. +It's too delightfully perfect, the atmosphere there.... +The books are by all the famous writers, and +they are all dedicated to Blanche; the pictures are +all of the great men of today, and they are all +painted by Blanche; the music is played by the +best musicians.... Do you know, I think +Blanche is the one man who has made a successful +profession of being an amateur—unless one +excepts Robert de la Condamine.... You can +scarcely call a man who does so much a dilettante. +Yes, I think he is an amateur in the best sense."</p> + +<p>"I met the Countess of Jena there the other +day," I responded. "She had scarcely left the +room before three people volunteered, <i>sans rancune</i>, +to tell her story. She is a devout Catholic, +and her husband contrived in some way to substitute +a spy for the priest in the confessional. He +acquired an infinite amount of information, but it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +didn't do him any good. She is so witty that +every one invites her everywhere in spite of her +reputation, and he is left to dine alone at the +Meurice. Dull men simply are not tolerated in +Paris.</p> + +<p>"It was at Blanche's last year that I met +George Moore," I continued. "You know I have +just seen him in London. He is at work on <i>The +Apostle</i>, making a novel of it, to be called 'The +Brook Kerith.' ... For a time he thought of finishing +it up as a play because a novel meant a +visit to Palestine and that was distasteful to him, +but it finally became a novel. He went to Palestine +and stayed six weeks, just long enough to find +a monastery and to study the lay of the country. +For he says, truly enough, that one cannot imagine +landscapes; one does not know whether there is a +high or low horizon. There may be a brook which +all the characters must cross. It is necessary to +see these things. Besides he had to find a monastery.... +He told me of his thrill when he discovered +an order of monks living on a narrow ledge +of cliff, with 500 feet sheer rise and descent above +and below it ... and when he had found this +his work was done and he returned to England to +write the book, a reaction, for he told me that he +was getting tired of being personal in literature.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +The book will exhibit a conflict between two types: +Christ, the disappointed mystic, and Paul; Christ, +who sees that there is no good to be served in saving +the world by his death, and Paul, full of hope, +idealism, and illusions. It is the drama of the +conflict between the nature which is affected by +externals and that which is not, he told me."</p> + +<p>"It's a subject for Anatole France," said Sitgreaves. +"Moore, in my opinion, is not a novelist. +His great achievements are his memoirs. I was +interested in 'Evelyn Innes' and 'Esther Waters,' +but something was lacking. There is nothing +lacking in the three volumes of 'Hail and Farewell.' +They grow in interest. Moore has found +his <i>métier</i>."</p> + +<p>"But he insists," I explained, before the door +of the little hotel, "that 'Hail and Farewell' is a +novel. He is infuriated when some one suggests +that it is a book after the manner of, say, 'The +Reminiscences of Lady Randolph Churchill.' ..."</p> + +<p>We entered and walked up the little staircase.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that the incidents are untrue?"</p> + +<p>We were at the door of the <i>concierge</i> and there +stood Marcel, his apron spread neatly over his +ample paunch. It was early in the afternoon and +the room beyond him, sometimes filled with possibilities +for customers, was empty.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Ah, monsieur est revenu!</i>" he exclaimed in his +piping voice. "<i>C'est pour la petite Polonaise +sans doute que monsieur revient?</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>Oui</i>," answered Sitgreaves, "<i>faut-il attendre +longtemps?</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>Mais non, monsieur, un petit moment. Elle +habite en face. Je vais envoyer le garçon la +chercher tout de suite. Et pour monsieur, votre +ami?</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>Je ne desire rien</i>," I replied.</p> + +<p>Marcel bowed humbly.... "<i>Comme monsieur +voudra.</i>" Then a doubt assailed him. "<i>Peut-être +que la petite Polonaise vous suffira à tous les +deux?</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>Jamais de la vie!</i>" I shouted, "<i>Flûte, Mercure, +allez! Je suis puceau!</i>"</p> + +<p>Marcel was equal to this. "<i>Et ta soeur?</i>" he +demanded as he disappeared down the staircase.</p> + +<p>He had put us meanwhile in the very chamber +with the red curtains and the picture of Cupid and +Psyche that Sitgreaves had described. Perhaps +all the rooms were similarly decorated. I lounged +on the bed while Sitgreaves sat on a chair and +smoked....</p> + +<p>I answered his last question, "No, they are +true, but there is selection and form."</p> + +<p>"While other memoirs have neither selection nor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +form and usually are not altogether accurate in +the bargain...."</p> + +<p>"Especially Madame Melba's...."</p> + +<p>"Especially," agreed Sitgreaves delightedly, +"Madame Melba's."</p> + +<p>"Moore is really right," I went on. "He says +that some people insist that Balzac was greater +than Turgeniev, because the Frenchman took his +characters from imagination, the Russian his from +life. You will remember, however, that Edgar +Saltus says, 'The manufacture of fiction from +facts was begun by Balzac.' Moore's point is +that all great writers write from observation. +There is no other way. A character may have +more or less resemblance to the original; it may +be derived and bear a different name; still there +must have been something.... In a letter which +Moore once wrote me stands the phrase, 'Memory +is the mother of the Muses.' 'Hail and Farewell' +is just as much a work of imagination, according +to Moore, as 'A Nest of Noblemen' or 'Les Illusions +Perdues.'"</p> + +<p>"Of course," admitted Sitgreaves. "No +writer but what has suffered from the recognition +of his characters. Dickens got into trouble. Oscar +Wilde is said to have done himself in 'Dorian +Gray,' and Meredith's models for 'The Tragic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +Comedians' and 'Diana of the Crossways' are +well known."</p> + +<p>"All Moore has done is to call his characters +by their real names and he has reported their +conversations as he remembered them, but, mind +you, he has not put into the book all their conversations, +or even all the people he knew at that +period. Arthur Symons, for instance, a great +friend of Moore's at that time, is scarcely mentioned, +and with reason: he has no part in the +form of the book; its plot is not concerned with +him.</p> + +<p>"All artists create only in the image of the +things they have seen, reduced to terms of art +through their imagination. The paintings of Mina +Loy seem to the beholder the strange creations of +a vagrant fancy. I remember one picture of hers +in which an Indian girl stands poised before an +oriental palace, the most fantastic of palaces, it +would seem. But the artist explained to me that +it was simply the façade of Hagenbeck's menagerie +in Hamburg, seen with an imaginative eye. The +girl was a model.... One day on the beach at the +Lido she saw a young man in a bathing suit lying +stretched on the sand with his head in the lap of a +beautiful woman. Other women surrounded the +two. The group immediately suggested a composition<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +to her. She went home and painted. She +took the young man's bathing suit off and gave +him wings; the women she dressed in lovely floating +robes, and she called the picture, <i>l'Amour Dorloté +par les Belles Dames</i>.</p> + +<p>"And once I asked Frank Harris to explain to +me the origin of his vivid story, 'Montes the Matador.' +'It's too simple,' he said, 'the model for +Montes was a little Mexican greaser whom I met +in Kansas. He was one of many in charge of +cattle shipped up from Mexico and down from the +States. All the white cattle men, the gringos, +held him in great contempt. But,' continued +Harris, speaking deliberately with his beautifully +modulated voice, and his eyes twinkling with the +memory of the thing, 'I soon found that the +greaser's contempt for the gringos was immeasureably +greater than their's for him. "Bah," he +would say, "they know nothing." And it was so. +He could go into a cattle car on a pitch dark +night and make the bulls stand up, a feat that +none of the white men would have attempted. I +asked him how he did this and he told me the +answer in three words, "I know them." He could +go into a herd of cattle just let loose together and +pick out their leader immediately, pick him out +before the cattle themselves had! There was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +origin of "Montes the Matador." He was +named, of course, after the famous <i>torero</i> described +by Gautier in his "Voyage en Espagne." +When I was in Madrid sometime later I went to a +number of bull-fights before I put the story together.' +'But,' I asked Harris, 'Is it possible +for an <i>espada</i> to stand in the bull ring with his +back to the bull, during a charge, as you have +made him do frequently in the story?' 'Of +course not,' he answered me at once, smiling his +frankly malevolent smile, 'Of course not. That +part was put in to show how much the public will +stand for in a work of fiction. I believe one of +the <i>espadas</i> tried it some time after the book appeared +and was immediately killed.'</p> + +<p>"Fiction, history, poetry, criticism, at their +best, are all the same thing. When they inflame +the imagination and stir the pulse they are identical: +all creative work. It does not matter what +a man writes about. It matters how he writes it. +Subject is nothing. Should we regard Velasquez +as less important than Murillo because the former +painted portraits of contemporaries, whom in his +fashion he criticized, while the Spanish Bouguereau +disguised his models as the Virgin? Walter +Pater's description of the <i>Monna Lisa</i> would live +if the picture disappeared. Indeed it has created<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +a factitious interest in da Vinci's masterwork. +Even more might be said for Huysmans's description +of Moreau's <i>Salomé</i>, which actually puts the +figures in the picture in motion! The critic, the +historian at their best are creative artists as the +writers of fiction are creative artists. Should we +regard, for example, 'Imperial Purple' less a work +of creative art than 'The Rise of Silas Lapham'?"</p> + +<p>"I am getting your meaning more and more," +said Sitgreaves. "And it occurs to me that perhaps +I have been unjust in rating Moore low as +a novelist. Perhaps I should have said that he is +more successful in those books which depend more +on his memory and less on his imaginative instinct. +He cannot, after all, have known Jesus and +Paul...."</p> + +<p>"You are quite wrong," I said. "At least from +his point of view. He says that he knows Paul +better than he has ever known any one else. He +even finds hair on Paul's chest. He can describe +Paul, I believe, to the last mole. He knows his +favourite colours, and whether he prefers artichokes +to alligator pears. As for Christ, everybody +professes to know Christ these days. Since +the world has become distinctly un-Christian +it has become comparatively easy to discuss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +Christ. He is regarded as an historical character, +and a much more simple one than Napoleon. +I have heard anarchists in bar-rooms talk about +him by the hour, sometimes very graphically and +always with a certain amount of wit. No, it is all +the same.... Moore, now that he has been to +Palestine and read the gospels, feels as well acquainted +with Christ and Paul as he does with +Edward Martyn and Yeats and Lady Gregory."</p> + +<p>"I must fall back on the personal then," said +Sitgreaves, now really at bay, "and say that I am +less moved and interested when Moore is describing +Evelyn Innes, than when he tells of his affair with +Doris at Orelay."</p> + +<p>"I am glad that you mentioned 'Evelyn Innes' +again," I said, "because it is in this very book +that he is said to have painted so many of his +friends. Ulick Dean is undoubtedly Yeats. It +has been suggested that Arnold Dolmetsch posed +for the portrait of Evelyn's father. Dolmetsch's +testimony on this point goes farther. He says +that he dictated certain passages in the +book...."</p> + +<p>"What is it, then? What is the difference? +There is some difference, of that I am sure...."</p> + +<p>"The difference is—" I began when the door +opened and Marcel entered, the most amazingly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +comprehensive smile on his countenance. "<i>Mademoiselle +vous attend</i>," he said, and he looked the +question. "Shall I bring her in here?"</p> + +<p>Sitgreaves answered it immediately, "<i>Je viens</i>." +And then to me, "Wait," as he vanished through +the doorway.... I walked to the window, drew +aside the red curtains, and looked out into the +fountain-splashed court below....</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"What is the difference?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is that you prefer the new Moore +to the old Moore, the author of the later and better +written books to the author of the earlier ones. +'Evelyn Innes' was many times rewritten. +Moore has said that he could never get it to suit +him, but he has also said, recently, that he would +never rewrite another book (a resolution he has +not kept). 'Memoirs of My Dead Life' and +'Hail and Farewell' do not need rewriting. +They are written to stand. 'The Brook Kerith,' +perhaps, you will find equally to your taste. It +will be the newest Moore...."</p> + +<p>"You have explained to me," said Sitgreaves, +"the difference: it is one of development. Now +that I think of it I don't believe that Anatole +France could write 'The Brook Kerith.'... It +would be too symbolical, too cynical, in his hands.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +Moore will perhaps make it more human, by knowing +the characters. I wonder," he continued musingly, +as we left the room, and descended the +stairs, "if he told you whether that hair on +Paul's chest was red or black...."</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>February 1, 1915.</i></span><br /> +</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>The Authoritative Work on<br /> +American Music</h3> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="The_Authoritative_Work" id="The_Authoritative_Work"></a>The Authoritative Work<br /> +on American Music</h2> + + +<p>H. L. Mencken pointed out to me recently, +in his most earnest and persuasive +manner, that it was my duty to +write a book about the American composers, exposing +their futile pretensions and describing their +flaccid <i>opera</i>, stave by stave. It was in vain that +I urged that this would be but a sleeveless errand, +arguing that I could not fight men of straw, that +these our composers had no real standing in the +concert halls, and that pushing them over would be +an easy exercise for a child of ten. On the contrary, +he retorted, they belonged to the academies; +certain people believed that they were important; +it was necessary to dislodge this belief. +I suggested, with a not too heavily assumed humility, +that I had already done something of the +sort in an essay entitled "The Great American +Composer." "A good beginning," asserted Col. +Mencken, "but not long enough. I won't be satisfied +with anything less than a book." "But if I +wrote a book about Professors Parker, Chadwick, +Hadley, and the others I could find nothing different +to say about them; they are all alike. Neither<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +their lives nor their music offer opportunities for +variations." "An excellent idea!" cried Major +Mencken, enthusiastically, "Write one chapter +and then repeat it verbatim throughout the book, +changing only the name of the principal character. +Then clap on a preface, explaining your reason +for this procedure." My last protest was the +feeblest of all: "I can't spend a year or a +month or a week poring over the scores of these +fellows; I can't go to concerts to hear their music. +I might as well go to work in a coal mine." "I'll +do it for you!" triumphantly checkmated General +Mencken. "I'll read the scores and you shall +write the book!" And so he left me, as on a +similar occasion the fiend, having exhibited his +prospectus, vanished from the eyes of our Lord. +And I returned to my home sorely troubled, finding +that the words of the man were running about in +my head like so many little Japanese waltzing +mice.</p> + +<p>And, after much cogitation, I went to such and +such a book case and took down a certain volume +written by Louis Charles Elson (a very large red +tome) and another by Rupert Hughes, to see if +their words of praise for our weak musical brothers +would stir me to action. I found that they did +not. My heart action remained normal; no film<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +covered my eyes; foam did not issue from my +mouth. Indeed I read, quite calmly, in Mr. +Hughes's "American Composers" that A. J. +Goodrich is "recognized among scholars abroad as +one of the leading spirits of our time"; that +"(Henry Holden) Huss has ransacked the piano +and pillaged almost every imaginable fabric of +high colour.... The result is gorgeous and purple"; +that "The thing we are all waiting for is +that American grand opera, <i>The Woman of +Marblehead</i> (by Louis Adolphe Coerne). It is +predicted that it will not receive the marble +heart"; that "I know of no modern composer who +has come nearer to relighting the fires that burn +in the old gavottes and fugues and preludes (than +Arthur Foote). His two gavottes are to me away +the best since Bach"; that "the song (<i>Israfel</i> by +Edgar Stillman-Kelley) is in my fervent belief, a +masterwork of absolute genius, one of the very +greatest lyrics in the world's music"; and in "The +History of American Music" by Louis C. Elson +that "Music has made even more rapid strides +than literature among us," and that "he (George +W. Chadwick) has reconciled the symmetrical +(sonata) form with modern passion." But it +was in the fourth volume of "The Art of Music," +published by the National Society of Music, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +I found the supreme examples of this kind of +writing. The volume was edited by Arthur Farwell +and W. Dermot Darby. Therein I read with +a sort of awed astonishment that one of the songs +of Frederick Ayres "reveals a poignancy of imagination +and a perception and apprehension of +beauty seldom attained by any composer." I +learned that T. Carl Whitmer has a "spiritual +kinship" with Arthur Shepherd, Hans Pfitzner, +and Vincent d'Indy. His music is "psychologically +subtle and spiritually rarefied: in colour +it corresponds to the violet end of the spectrum." +I turned the pages until I came to the name of +Miss Gena Branscombe: "Inexhaustible buoyancy, +a superlative emotional wealth, and wholly +singular gift of musical intuition are the qualities +which have shaped the composer's musical personality +(without much effort of the imagination we +might say that they are the qualities that shaped +Beethoven's musical personality).... Her impatient +melodies leap and dash with youthful life, +while her accompaniments abound in harmonic +hairbreadth escapes." Before he became acquainted +with the later French idiom Harvey W. +Loomis "spontaneously breathed forth the quality +of spirit which we now recognize in a Debussy or a +Ravel."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> + +<p>Curiously enough, however, these statements did +not annoy me. I found no desire arising in me to +deny them and doubtless, though mayhap with a +guilty conscience, I should have ditched the undertaking, +consigned it to that heap of undone +duties, where already lie notes on a comparison of +Andalusian mules with the mules of Liane de +Pougy, a few scribbled memoranda for a treatise +on the love habits of the mole, and a half-finished +biography of the talented gentleman who signed +his works, "Nick Carter," if my by this time quite +roving eye had not alighted, entirely fortuitously, +on one of the forgotten glories of my library, a +slender volume entitled "Popular American Composers."</p> + +<p>I recalled how I had bought this book. Happening +into a modest second-hand bookshop on +lower Third Avenue, maintained chiefly for the +laudable purpose of redistributing paper novels +of the Seaside and kindred libraries, of which, alas, +we hear very little nowadays, I asked the proprietor +if by chance he possessed any literature relating +to the art of music. By way of answer, he +retired to the very back of his little room, searched +for a space in a litter on the floor, and then returned +with a pile of nine volumes or so in his +arms. The titles, such as "Great Violinists,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +"Harmony in Thirteen Lessons," and "How to +Sing," did not intrigue me, but in idly turning the +pages of this "Popular American Composers" I +came across a half-tone reproduction of a photograph +of Paul Dresser, the only less celebrated +brother of Theodore Dreiser, with a short biography +of the composer of <i>On the Banks of the +Wabash</i>. As Sir George Grove in his excellent +dictionary neglected to mention this portentous +name in American Art and Letters (although he +devoted sixty-seven pages, printed in double columns, +to Mendelssohn) I saw the advantage of adding +the little book to my collection. The bookseller, +when questioned, offered to relinquish the +volume for a total of fifteen cents, and I carried +it away with me. Once I had become more thoroughly +acquainted with its pages I realized that I +would willingly have paid fifteen dollars for it.</p> + +<p>This book, indeed, cannot fail to delight General +Mencken. There is no reference in its pages +to Edgar Stillman-Kelley, Miss Gena Branscombe, +Louis Adolphe Coerne, Henry Holden +Huss, T. Carl Whitmer, Arthur Farwell, Arthur +Foote, or A. J. Goodrich. In fact, if we overlook +brief notices of John Philip Sousa, Harry +von Tilzer, Paul Dresser, Charles K. Harris, and +Hattie Starr (whom you will immediately recall as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +the composer of <i>Little Alabama Coon</i>), the author, +Frank L. Boyden, has not hesitated to go to the +roots of his subject, pushing aside the college professors +and their dictums, and has turned his attention +to figures in the art life of America, from +whom, Mencken himself, I feel sure, would not take +a single paragraph of praise, so richly is it deserved. +I am unfamiliar with the causes contributing +to this book's comparative obscurity; +perhaps, indeed, they are similar to those responsible +for the early failure of "Sister Carrie." +May not we even suspect that the odium cast by +the Doubledays on the author of that romance +might have been actively transferred in some +degree to a work which contained a biographical +notice and a picture of his brother? At any rate, +"Popular American Composers," published in +1902, fell into undeserved oblivion and so I make +no apology for inviting my readers to peruse its +pages with me.</p> + +<p>Opening the book, then, at random, I discover on +page 96 a biography of Lottie A. Kellow (her +photograph graces the reverse of this page). In +a few well-chosen words (almost indeed in "gipsy +phrases") Mr. Boyden gives us the salient details +of her career. Mrs. Kellow is a resident of +Cresco, Iowa, a church singer of note, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +possessor of a contralto voice of great volume. +As a composer she has to her credit "marches, +cakewalks, schottisches, and other styles of instrumental +music." We are given a picture of Mrs. +Kellow at work: "Mrs. Kellow's best efforts are +made in the evening, and in darkness, save the +light of the moonbeams on the keys of her piano." +We are also told that "she is happy in her inspirations +and a sincere lover of music. All of +her compositions show a decided talent and possess +musical elements which are only to be found in +the works of an artist. Mrs. Kellow's musical +friends are confident of her success as a composer +and predict for her a brilliant future."</p> + +<p>Let us turn to the somewhat more extensive +biography of W. T. Mullin on Page 4 (his photograph +faces this page). Almost in the first +line the author rewards our attention: "To him +may be applied the simplest and grandest eulogy +Shakespeare ever pronounced: 'He was a man.'" +We are also informed that he was born of a cultured +family, that his inherited nobility of character +has been carefully fostered by a thorough +education, and told that one finds in him the unusual +combination of genius wedded to sound common +sense and practical business capacity. His +family moved to Colorado, Texas, while he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +still a lad and here his musical talent began to +display itself. "The inventive faculties of the +small boy, and the innate harmony of the musician, +combined to improvise a crude instrument +which emitted the notes of the scale. Successful +at drawing forth a concord of sweet sounds, +he continued to experiment upon everything +which would emit musical vibrations. (Even +the pigs, I take it, did not escape.) He +consequently discovered the laws of vibrating +chords before he had mastered the intricacies of +the multiplication table. Yet strange as it may +seem, his musical education was neglected. A four +months' course in piano instruction was interrupted +and then resumed for two months more. +Upon this meagre foundation rested his subsequent +phenomenal progress." I pause to point +out to the astonished and breathless reader that +even Mozart and Schubert, infant prodigies that +they were, received more training than this.</p> + +<p>I continue to quote: "At the age of thirteen +he joined The Colorado (Texas) Cornet Band as +a charter member. The youngest member of the +band, he soon outstripped his comrades by virtue +of his superior natural ability. His position was +that of second tenor. Wearying of the monotony +of playing, he determined to venture on solo work.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +The boy felt the impetus of restless power and +the following incident illustrates his remarkable +originality. Taking the piano score of a favourite +melody he transposed it within the compass of +the second tenor. This feat evoked admiring applause +because of his extreme youth and untrained +abilities. The band-master remarked that elderly +and experienced heads could hardly have accomplished +this.</p> + +<p>"From boyhood to manhood he has remained +with the Colorado (Texas) band as one of its most +efficient members, composing in his leisure moments, +marches, ragtimes, waltzes, song and dance schottisches, +etc. Of his many meritorious compositions +only one has so far been given to the public:—<i>The +West Texas Fair March</i>, composed for +and dedicated to the management of the West +Texas Fair and Round-up. This institution holds +its annual meetings at Abilene, Texas. There the +march was played for the first time at their October, +1899, meet with great success, and again +at their September, 1900, meet by the Stockman +band of Colorado, Texas, which has furnished +music for the West Texas Fair during their 1899 +and 1900 meetings. Mr. Mullin's position in the +Stockman band is that of euphonium soloist. He +is a proficient performer upon all band instruments<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +from cornet to tuba, including slide trombone, +his favourites being the baritone and the +trombone.</p> + +<p>"He plays many stringed instruments, as well +as the piano and organ. He is the proud possessor +of a genuine Stradivarius violin—a family +heirloom—which he naturally prizes beyond the +intrinsic value. The feat of playing on several +instruments at once presents no difficulty to him.</p> + +<p>"This briefly sketches Mr. Mullin's life, character +and ability as a musician. His accompanying +photograph reveals his superb physique. Personally +he possesses charming, agreeable manners +and Chesterfieldan courteousness, which vastly +contributes to his popularity. Sincere devotion +to his art has been rewarded by that elevating +nobility of soul, which alone can penetrate the blue +expanse of space and revel in the music of the +spheres."</p> + +<p>What more is there to say? I can only assure +the reader that Mullin stands unique among all +musicians, creative and interpretative, in being +able to play the organ, many stringed instruments, +and all the instruments in a brass band (several of +them simultaneously; it would be interesting to +know which and how) after studying the piano for +six months. I sincerely hope that the mistake he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +made in withholding all his compositions, save one, +from the public, has been rectified.</p> + +<p>Helen Kelsey Fox, like so many of our talented +men and women, has a European strain in her +blood. She is a lineal descendant on her mother's +side of a French nobleman and a German princess. +Nevertheless she continues to reside in Vermilion, +Ohio. She is of a "decided poetic nature and +lives in an atmosphere of her own. She dwells in +a world of thought peopled by the creations of an +active and lyric mentality." She is so imbued +with the poetic spark that, as she expresses it, she +"speaks in rhyme half the time."</p> + +<p>John Z. Macdonald, strictly speaking, is not +an American composer. He was born in Scotland +and came to America in 1881 at the age of 21, but +as he is one of the very few composers since Nero +to enter public political life he well deserves a place +in this collection. In 1890 he was elected city +clerk of Brazil, Indiana, a position which he held +for seven years. In 1898 he was elected treasurer +of Clay County, Indiana. This county is democratic +"by between five and six hundred" but Mr. +Macdonald was elected on the republican ticket +by a majority of 133. He was the only republican +elected. Among the best known of Mr. Macdonald's +compositions is his famous "expansion"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +song, in which he predicted the fate of Aguinaldo. +He has autograph letters, praising this song, from +the late President McKinley, Col. Roosevelt, General +Harrison, Admiral Schley, John Philip Sousa +and other "eminent gentlemen."</p> + +<p>Edward Dyer, born in Washington, was the son +of a marble cutter who "helped to erect the +U. S. Treasury, Patent Office, and Capitol.... +In the majority of his compositions there is a +tinge of sadness which appeals to his auditors.... +Mr. Dyer never descends to coarseness or +vulgarity in his productions; he writes pure, clean +words, something that can be sung in the home, +school and on the stage to refined respectable people."</p> + +<p>We learn much of the study years of Mrs. Lucy +L. Taggart: "From earliest childhood she received +valuable musical instruction from her +father (Mr. Longsdon) who, coming from England +in 1835, purchased the first piano that came to +Chicago, an elegant hand-carved instrument that +is still treasured in the old home." Later "she +studied under Prof. C. E. Brown, of Owego, N. Y., +Prof. Heimburger, of San Francisco and Herr +Chas. Goffrie. Mrs. Taggart was also for five +years a pupil of Senor Arevalo, the famous guitar +soloist of Los Angeles.... Mrs. Taggart has in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +preparation (1902) <i>Methought He Touched the +Strings</i>, an idyl for piano in memory of the late +Senor M. S. Arevalo."</p> + +<p>David Weidley, born in Philadelphia, is the composer +of the following songs, <i>Old Spooney Spooppalay</i>, +<i>Jennie Ree</i>, <i>Autumn Leaves</i>, <i>Hannah Glue</i>, +and <i>Uncle Reuben and Aunt Lucinda</i>. "He has +done much to create and elevate a taste for music +in the community where he resides and where he is +known as 'Dave.' Even the little children call +him 'Dave' as freely and innocently as those who +have known him for years, and there can be no +greater compliment for any man than that he is +known and loved by the children. Mr. Weidley is +by profession a sheet metal worker. He is a P. G. +of the I. O. O. F., and a P. C. in the Knights of +Pythias. He is not identified with any church, but +loves and serves his fellow-men."</p> + +<p>In the biography of Delmer G. Palmer we are +assured that "Versatility is a trait with which +musical composers are not excessively burdened. +There are few performers who can include <i>The +Moonlight Sonata</i> and Schubert's <i>Serenade</i> with +selections from <i>The Merry-go-round</i>, and do justice +to the expression of each, much less would +such adaptability be looked for among composers. +As most rules have exceptions, in this there is one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +who stands in a class occupied by no one else, Mr. +Delmer G. Palmer, the 'Green Mountain Composer,' +who at present resides in Kansas City.</p> + +<p>"As recently as 1899 Mr. Palmer wrote a song +in the popular 'ragtime,' <i>My Sweetheart is a Midnight +Coon</i> and almost in the same breath also +wrote the heavy sacred solo, <i>Christ in Gethsemane</i>. +The first is of the usual light order characteristic +of this class of music. The latter is as far removed +to the contrary as is comedy from tragedy. +The 'coon' song entered the bubbling effervescing +cauldron of what is termed 'ragtime' music +among the multitudinous others, and soon was seen +peeping through at the surface among the lightest +and most catchy.... The sacred solo found its +level among the heavier in its class, and if the term +may be here applied, it was also a hit."</p> + +<p>S. Duncan Baker, born August 25, 1855, still +lives (1902) in the old family residence at Natchez, +Miss. "In this house is located the den +where he has spent many hours with his collection +of banjos and pictures and in writing for and +playing on the instrument which he adopted as a +favourite during its dark days (about 1871)." +We are told that he composed an "artistic banjo +solo," entitled, <i>Memories of Farland</i>. "Had this +production or its companion piece, <i>Thoughts of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +the Cadenza</i>, been written by an old master for +some other instrument and later have been adapted +by a modern composer to the banjo, either or both +of them would have been pronounced classic, barring +some slight defects in form."</p> + +<p>I cannot stop to quote from the delightful accounts +offered us of the lives and works of Albert +Matson, George D. Tufts, D. O. Loy, Lavinia +Pascoe Oblad, and forty or fifty other American +singers, but it seems to me that I have done +enough, Mencken, to prove to you that the great +book on American music has been written. Without +one single mention of the names of Horatio +Parker, George W. Chadwick, Frederick Converse, +or Henry Hadley, by a transference of the emphasis +to the place where it belongs, the author +of this undying book has answered your prayer.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>December 11, 1917.</i></span><br /> +</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="Old_Days" id="Old_Days"></a>Old Days and New</h3> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Old_Days_and_New" id="Old_Days_and_New"></a>Old Days and New</h2> + + +<p>Some toothless old sentimentalist or other +periodically sets up a melancholy howl for +"the good old days of comic opera," whatever +or whenever they were. Perhaps none of us, +once past forty, is guiltless in this respect. Nothing, +not even the smell of an apple-blossom from +the old homestead, the sight of a daguerreotype of +a miss one kissed at the age of ten, or a taste of a +piece of the kind of pie that "mother used to +make" so arouses the sensibility of a man of middle +age as the memory of some musical show which +he saw in his budding manhood. That is why revivals +of these venerable institutions are frequently +projected and, some of them, very successfully +accomplished. When a manager revives +an old drama he must appeal to the interest of his +audience; it may not be the identical interest which +held the original spectators of the piece spell-bound, +but, none the less, it must be an interest. +When a manager revives an old musical comedy he +appeals directly to sentiment.</p> + +<p>Of course, the exact date of the good old days +is a variable quantity. I have known a vain regretter +to turn no further back than to the nights<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +of <i>The Merry Widow</i>, <i>The Waltz Dream</i>, <i>The +Chocolate Soldier</i>, <i>The Girl in the Train</i>, and <i>The +Dollar Princess</i>, in other words to the Viennese +renaissance; another, in using the phrase, is subconsciously +conjuring up pictures of <i>La Belle +Hélène</i>, <i>Orphée aux Enfers</i>, or <i>La Fille de Madame +Angot</i>, good fodder for memory to feed on here; +a third will instinctively revert to the Johann +Strauss operetta period, the era of <i>The Queen's +Lace Handkerchief</i> and <i>Die Fledermaus</i>; a fourth +cries, "Give us Gilbert and Sullivan!" A fifth, +when his ideas are chased to their lair, will rhapsodize +endlessly over the charms of the London +Gaiety when <i>The Geisha</i>, <i>The Country Girl</i>, and +<i>The Circus Girl</i> were in favour; a sixth, it seems, +finds his pleasure in Americana, <i>Robin Hood</i>, +<i>Wang</i>, <i>The Babes in Toyland</i>, and <i>El Capitan</i>; +a seventh becomes maudlin to the most +utter degree when you mention <i>Les Cloches de +Corneville</i>, or <i>La Mascotte</i>, products of a decadent +stage in the history of French opéra-bouffe. Not +long ago I heard a man speak of the cadet operas +in Boston (did a man named Barnet write them?) +as the last of the great musical pieces; and every +one of you who reads this essay will have a +brother, or a son, or a friend who went to see +<i>Sybil</i> forty-three times and <i>The Girl from Utah</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +seventy-six. Twenty years from now, as he sits +before the open fire, the mere mention of <i>They +Wouldn't Believe Me</i> will cause the tears to course +down his cheeks as he pats the pate of his infant +son or daughter and weepingly describes the never-to-be-forgotten +fascination of Julia Sanderson, the +(in the then days) unattainable agility of Donald +Brian.</p> + +<p>In no other form of theatrical entertainment is +the appeal to softness so direct. The man who +attends a performance of a musical farce goes in a +good mood, usually with a couple of friends, or +possibly with <i>the</i> girl. If he has dined well and +his digestion is in working order and he is young +enough, the spell of the lights and the music is +irresistible to his receptive and impressionable +nature. There are those young men, of course, +who are constant attendants because of the altogether +too wonderful hair of the third girl from +the right in the front row. Others succumb to the +dental perfection of the prima donna or to the +shapely legs of the soubrette. All of us, I am +almost proud to admit, at some time or other, are +subject to the contagion. I well remember the +year in which I considered myself as a possible +suitor for the hand of Della Fox. Photographs +and posters of this deity adorned my walls. I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +an assiduous collector of newspaper clippings referring +to her profoundly interesting activities, although +my sophistication had not reached the +stage where I might appeal to Romeike for assistance. +The mere mention of Miss Fox's name +was sufficient cause to make me blush profusely. +Eventually my father was forced to take steps in +the matter when I began, in a valiant effort to +summon up the spirit of the lady's presence, to disturb +the early morning air with vocal assaults on +<i>She Was a Daisy</i>, which, you will surely remember, +was the musical gem of <i>The Little Trooper</i>. +Here are the words of the refrain:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She was a daisy, daisy, daisy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Driving me crazy, crazy, crazy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Helen of Troy and Venus were to her cross-eyed crones!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was dimpled and rosy, rosy, rosy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet as a posy, posy, posy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How I doted upon her, my Ann Jane Jones!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>You will admit, I think, at first glance, the +superior literary quality of these lines; you will +perceive at once to what immeasurably higher class +of art they belong than the lyrics that librettists +forge for us today.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>Wall Street broker, poet, green grocer, soldier, +banker, lawyer, whatever you are, confess the facts +to yourself: you were once as I. You have suffered +the same feelings that I suffered. Perhaps +with you it was not Della Fox.... Who then? +Did saucy Marie Jansen awaken your admiration? +Was pert Lulu Glaser the object of your secret +but persistent attention? How many times did +you go to see Marie Tempest in <i>The Fencing Master</i>, +or Alice Nielsen in <i>The Serenade</i>? Was Virginia +Earle in <i>The Circus Girl</i> the idol of your +youth or was it Mabel Barrison in <i>The Babes in +Toyland</i>? Theresa Vaughn in <i>1492</i>, May Yohe in +<i>The Lady Slavey</i>, Hilda Hollins in <i>The Magic +Kiss</i>, or Nancy McIntosh in <i>His Excellency</i>? +Madge Lessing in <i>Jack and the Beanstalk</i>, Edna +May in <i>The Belle of New York</i>, Phyllis Rankin in +<i>The Rounders</i>, or Gertrude Quinlan in <i>King Dodo</i>?</p> + +<p>What do you whistle in your bathtub when you +are in a reminiscent mood? Is it <i>The Typical +Tune of Zanzibar</i>, or <i>Baby, Baby, Dance My Darling +Baby</i>, or <i>Starlight, Starbright</i>, or <i>Tell Me, +Pretty Maiden</i>, or <i>A Simple Little String</i>, or +<i>J'aime les Militaires</i> (if you whistle this, ten to +one your next door neighbour thinks you have been +to an orchestra concert and heard Beethoven's +<i>Seventh Symphony</i>), or <i>Sister Mary Jane's Top<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +Note</i>, or <i>A Wandering Minstrel I</i>, or <i>See How It +Sparkles</i>, or the <i>Lullaby</i> from <i>Erminie</i>, which Pauline +Hall used to sing as if she herself +were asleep, and which Emma Abbott interpolated +in <i>The Mikado</i>, or <i>A Pretty Girl, +A Summer Night</i>, or the <i>Policeman's Chorus</i> +from <i>The Pirates of Penzance</i>, or <i>The Soldiers in +the Park</i>, or <i>My Angeline</i>, or the <i>Letter Song</i> from +<i>The Chocolate Soldier</i>, or <i>I'm Little Buttercup</i>, +or the <i>Gobble Song</i> from <i>The Mascot</i>, or the <i>Anna +Song</i> from <i>Nanon</i>, or the march from <i>Fatinitza</i>, +or <i>I'm All the Way from Gay Paree</i>, or <i>Love +Comes Like a Summer Sigh</i>, or <i>In the North Sea +Lived a Whale</i>, or <i>Jusqu'là</i>, or <i>The Harmless Little +Girlie With the Downcast Eyes</i>, or <i>They All +Follow Me</i>, or <i>The Amorous Goldfish</i>, or <i>Don't Be +Cross</i>, or <i>Slumber On, My Little Gypsy Sweetheart</i>, +or <i>Good-bye Flo</i>, or <i>La Légende de la Mère +Angot</i>, or <i>My Alamo Love</i>?</p> + +<p>There is a very subtle and fragrant charm about +these old recollections which the sight or sound of a +score, a view of an old photograph of Lillian Russell +or Judic, or a dip in the <i>Théâtre Complet</i> of +Meilhac and Halévy will reawaken. But it is +only at a revival of one of our old favourites that +we can really bathe in sentimentality, drink in +draughts of joy from the past, allow memory full<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +away. You whose hair is turning white will be in +Row A, Seat No. 1 for the first performance of a +revival of <i>Robin Hood</i>. You will not hear Edwin +Hoff in his original rôle; Jessie Bartlett Davis is +dead and, alas, Henry Clay Barnabee is no longer +on the boards, but the newcomers, possibly, are respectable +substitutes and the airs and lines remain. +You can walk about in the lobby and say proudly +that you attended the <i>first</i> performance of the +opera ever so long ago when operettas had tune +and reason. "Yes sir, there were plots in those +days, and composers, and the singers could <i>act</i>. +Times have certainly changed, sir. Come to the +corner and have a Manhattan.... There were +no cocktails in those days.... There is no singer +like Mrs. Davis today!"</p> + +<p>Well the poor souls who cannot feel tenderly +about a past they have not yet experienced have +their recompenses. For one thing I am certain +that the revivals of the Gilbert and Sullivan +operettas to which De Wolf Hopper devoted his +best talents were better, in many respects, than +the original London productions; just as I am +equally certain that the representations of <i>Aida</i> +at the Metropolitan Opera House are way ahead +of the original performance of that work given +at Cairo before the Khedive of Egypt.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then there is the musical revue, a form which +we have borrowed from the French, but which +we have vastly improved upon and into which +we have poured some of our most national feeling +and expression. The interpretation of these +frivolities is a new art. Gaby Deslys may be +only half a loaf compared to Marie Jansen, but +I am sure that Elsie Janis is more than three-quarters. +Frank Tinney and Al Jolson can, in +their humble way, efface memories of Digby Bell +and Dan Daly. Adele Rowland and Marie +Dressler have their points (and curves). Irving +Berlin, Louis A. Hirsch, and Jerome Kern are +not to be sniffed at. Neither is P. G. Wodehouse. +Harry B. Smith we have always with us: he is +the Sarah Bernhardt of librettists.</p> + +<p>Joseph Urban has wrought a revolution in +stage settings for this form of entertainment. +Louis Sherwin has offered us convincing evidence +to support his theory that the new staging in +America is coming to us by way of the revue and +not through the serious drama. Melville Ellis, +Lady Duff-Gordon, and Paul Poiret have done +their bit for the dresses. In fact, my dear young +man—who are reading this article—you will +feel just as tenderly in twenty years about the +<i>Follies of 1917</i> as your father does now about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +<i>Wang</i>. Only, and this is a very big ONLY, the +<i>Follies of 1917</i>, depending as it does entirely on +topical subjects and dimpled knees, cannot be +revived. Fervid and enlivening as its immediate +impression may be it cannot be lasting. You +can never recapture the thrills of this summer by +sitting in Row A, Seat No. 1 at any 1937 <i>reprise</i>. +There can never be anything of the sort. The +revue, like the firefly, is for a night only. We +take it in with the daily papers ... and the next +season, already old-fashioned, it goes forth to +show Grinnell and Davenport how Mlle. Manhattan +deported herself the year before.</p> + +<p>So if the youth of these days chooses to be sentimental +in the years to come over the good old +days of Urban scenery and Olive Thomas, the Balloon +Girls of the Midnight Frolic and the chorus of +the Winter Garden, he will be obliged to give way +to the mood at home in front of the fire, see the pictures +in the smoke, and hear the tunes in the dropping +of the coals. Which is perhaps as it should +be. For in 1937 the youth of that epoch can sit +in Row A, Seat No. 1 himself and not be ousted +from his place by a sentimental gentleman of middle +age who longs to hear <i>Poor Butterfly</i> again.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>April 25, 1917.</i></span><br /> +</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="Playwrights" id="Playwrights"></a>Two Young American Playwrights</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>"Gautier had a theory to the effect that to be a +member of the Academy was simply and solely a +matter of predestination. 'There is no need to do +anything,' he would say, 'and so far as the writing of +books is concerned that is entirely useless. A man is +born an Academician as he is born a bishop or a +cook. He can abuse the Academy in a dozen pamphlets +if it amuses him, and be elected all the same; +but if he is not predestined, three hundred volumes +and ten masterpieces, recognized as such by the genuflections +of an adoring universe, will not aid him to +open its doors.' Evidently Balzac was not predestined +but then neither was Molière, and there must +have been some consolation for him in that."</i></p> + +<p class="author"> +Edgar Saltus.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Two_Young_American_Playwrights" id="Two_Young_American_Playwrights"></a>Two Young American Playwrights</h2> + + +<p>In the newspaper reports relating to the death +of Auguste Rodin I read with some astonishment +that if the venerable sculptor, who lacked +three years of being eighty when he died, had lived +two weeks longer he would have been admitted to +the French Academy! In other words, the greatest +stone-poet since Michael Angelo, internationally +famous and powerful, the most striking artist +figure, indeed, of the last half century, was to be +permitted, in the extremity of old age, to inscribe +his name on a scroll, which bore the signatures of +many inoffensive nobodies. I could not have been +more amused if the newspapers, in publishing the +obituary notices of John Jacob Astor, had announced +that if the millionaire had not perished +in the sinking of the <i>Titanic</i>, his chances of being +invited to join the Elks were good; or if "Variety" +or some other tradespaper of the music +halls, had proclaimed, just before Sarah Bernhardt's +début at the Palace Theatre, that if her +appearances there were successful she might expect +an invitation to membership in the White Rats.... +These hypothetical instances would seem +ridiculous ... but they are not. The Rodin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +case puts a by no means seldom-recurring phenomenon +in the centre of the stage under a calcium +light. The ironclad dreadnaughts of the academic +world, the reactionary artists, the dry-as-dust +lecturers are constantly ignoring the most +vital, the most real, the most important artists +while they sing polyphonic, antiphonal, Palestrinian +motets in praise of men who have learned to +imitate comfortably and efficiently the work of +their predecessors.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>If there are other contemporary French sculptors +than Rodin their names elude me at the +moment; yet I have no doubt that some ten or +fifteen of these hackmen have their names emblazoned +in the books of all the so-called "honour" +societies in Paris. It is a comfort, on the whole, +to realize that America is not the only country +in which such things happen. As a matter of fact, +they happen nowhere more often than in France.</p> + +<p>If some one should ask you suddenly for a list +of the important playwrights of France today, +what names would you let roll off your tongue, +primed by the best punditic and docile French +critics? Henry Bataille, Paul Hervieu, and +Henry Bernstein. Possibly Rostand. Don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +deny this; you know it is true, unless it happens +you have been doing some thinking for yourself. +For even in the works of Remy de Gourmont (to +be sure this very clairvoyant mind did not often +occupy itself with dramatic literature) you will +find little or nothing relating to Octave Mirbeau +and Georges Feydeau. True, Mirbeau did not do +his best work in the theatre. That stinging, cynical +attack on the courts of Justice (?) of France +(nay, the world!), "Le Jardin de Supplice" is +not a play and it is probably Mirbeau's masterpiece +and the best piece of critical fiction written in +France (or anywhere else) in the last fifty years. +However Mirbeau shook the pillars of society even +in the playhouse. <i>Le Foyer</i> was hissed repeatedly +at the Théâtre Français. Night after night the +proceedings ended in the ejection and arrest of +forty or fifty spectators. Even to a mere outsider, +an idle bystander of the boulevards, this +complete exposure of the social, moral, and political +hypocricies of a nation seemed exceptionally +brutal. <i>Le Foyer</i> and "Le Jardin" could only +have been written by a man passionately devoted +to the human ideal ("each as she may," as Gertrude +Stein so beautifully puts it). <i>Les Affaires +sont les Affaires</i> is pure theatre, perhaps, but it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +might be considered the best play produced in +France between Becque's <i>La Parisienne</i> and +Brieux's <i>Les Hannetons</i>.</p> + +<p>It is not surprising, on the whole, to find the +critical tribe turning for relief from this somewhat +unpleasant display of Gallic closet skeletons +to the discreet exhibition of a few carefully chosen +bones in the plays of Bernstein and Bataille, direct +descendants of Scribe, Sardou, <i>et Cie</i>, but I may +be permitted to indulge in a slight snicker of polite +amazement when I discover these gentlemen applying +their fingers to their noses in no very pretty-meaning +gesture, directed at a grandson of +Molière. For such is Georges Feydeau. His +method is not that of the Seventeenth Century master, +nor yet that of Mirbeau; nevertheless, aside +from these two figures, Beaumarchais, Marivaux, +Becque, Brieux at his best, and Maurice Donnay +occasionally, there has not been a single writer in +the history of the French theatre so inevitably <i>au +courant</i> with human nature. His form is frankly +farcical and his plays are so funny, so enjoyable +merely as <i>good shows</i> that it seems a pity to raise +an obelisk in the playwright's honour, and yet the +fact remains that he understands the political, +social, domestic, amorous, even cloacal conditions +of the French better than any of his contemporaries,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +always excepting the aforementioned +Mirbeau. In <i>On Purge Bébé</i> he has written +saucy variations on a theme which Rabelais, Boccaccio, +George Moore, and Molière in collaboration +would have found difficult to handle. It is +as successful an experiment in bravado and bravura +as Mr. Henry James's "The Turn of the +Screw." And he has accomplished this feat with +nimbleness, variety, authority, even (granting the +subject) delicacy. Seeing it for the first time you +will be so submerged in gales of uncontrollable +laughter that you will perhaps not recognize at +once how every line reveals character, how every +situation springs from the foibles of human nature. +Indeed in this one-act farce Feydeau, with +about as much trouble as Zeus took in transforming +his godship into the semblance of a swan, has +given you a well-rounded picture of middle-class +life in France with its external and internal implications.... +And how he understands the +buoyant French <i>grue</i>, unselfconscious and undismayed +in any situation. I sometimes think that +<i>Occupe-toi d'Amélie</i> is the most satisfactory play +I have ever seen; it is certainly the most delightful. +I do not think you can see it in Paris again. +The Nouveautés, where it was presented for over +a year, has been torn down; an English translation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +would be an insult to Feydeau; nor will you +find essays about it in the yellow volumes in which +the French critics tenderly embalm their <i>feuilletons</i>; +nor do I think Arthur Symons or George +Moore, those indefatigable diggers in Parisian +graveyards, have discovered it for their English +readers. Reading the play is to miss half its +pleasure; so you must take my word in the matter +unless you have been lucky enough to see it yourself, +in which case ten to one you will agree with +me that one such play is worth a kettleful of +boiled-over drama like <i>Le Voleur</i>, <i>Le Secret</i>, <i>Samson</i>, +<i>La Vierge Folle</i>, <i>et cetera</i>, <i>et cetera</i>. In the +pieces I have mentioned Feydeau, in representation, +had the priceless assistance of a great comic +artist, Armande Cassive. If we are to take Mr. +Symons's assurance in regard to de Pachmann +that he is the world's greatest pianist because he +does one thing more perfectly than any one else, +by a train of similar reasoning we might confidently +assert that Mlle. Cassive is the world's +greatest actress.</p> + +<p>When you ask a Frenchman to explain why he +does not like Mirbeau (and you will find that +Frenchmen invariably do not like him) he will +shrug his shoulders and begin to tell you that Mirbeau +was not good to his mother, or that he drank<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +to excess, or that he did not wear a red, white, and +blue coat on the Fourteenth of July, or that he +did not stand for the French spirit as exemplified +in the eating of snails on Christmas. In other +words, he will immediately place himself in a position +in which you may be excused for regarding +him as a person whose opinion is worth nothing, +whereas his ratiocinatory powers on subjects with +which he is more in sympathy may be excellent. I +know why he does not like Mirbeau. Mirbeau is +the reason. In his life he was not accustomed to +making compromises nor was he accustomed to +making friends (which comes after all to the same +thing). He did what he pleased, said what he +pleased, wrote what he pleased. His armorial +bearings might have been a cat upsetting a cream +jug with the motto, "<i>Je m'en fous</i>." The author +of "Le Jardin de Supplice" would not be in high +favour anywhere; nevertheless I would willingly +relinquish any claims I might have to future popularity +for the privilege of having been permitted +to sign this book.</p> + +<p>Feydeau is distinctly another story; his plays +are more successful than any others given in Paris. +They are so amusing that even while he is pointing +the finger at your own particular method of living +you are laughing so hard that you haven't time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +to see the application.... So the French critics +have set him down as another popular figure, only +a nobody born to entertain the boulevards, just +as the American critics regard the performances +of Irving Berlin with a steely supercilious impervious +eye. The Viennese scorned Mozart because +he entertained them. "A gay population," wrote +the late John F. Runciman, "always a heartless +master, holds none in such contempt as the servants +who provide it with amusement."</p> + +<p>The same condition has prevailed in England +until recently. A few seasons ago you might have +found the critics pouring out their glad songs +about Arthur Wing Pinero and Henry Arthur +Jones. Bernard Shaw has, in a measure, restored +the balance to the British theatre. He is not only +a brilliant playwright; he is a brilliant critic as +well. Foreseeing the fate of the under man in +such a struggle he became his own literary huckster +and by outcriticizing the other critics he easily +established himself as the first English (or Irish) +playwright. When he thus rose to the top, by +dint of his own exertions, he had strength enough +to carry along with him a number of other important +authors. As a consequence we may regard +the Pinero incident closed and in ten years +his theatre will be considered as old-fashioned and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +as inadept as that of Robertson or Bulwer-Lytton.</p> + +<p>Having no Shaw in America, no man who can +write brilliant prefaces and essays about his own +plays until the man in the street is obliged perforce +to regard them as literature, we find ourselves +in the condition of benighted France. Dulness +is mistaken for literary flavour; the injection +of a little learning, of a little poetry (so-called) +into a theatrical hackpiece, is the signal for a good +deal of enthusiasm on the part of the journalists +(there are two brilliant exceptions). Which of +our playwrights are taken seriously by the pundits? +Augustus Thomas and Percy MacKaye: +Thomas the dean, and MacKaye the poet laureate. +I have no intention of wrenching the laurel +wreathes from these august brows. Let them remain. +Each of these gentlemen has a long and +honourable career in the theatre behind him, from +which he should be allowed to reap what financial +and honourary rewards he may be able. But I +would not add one leaf to these wreathes, nor one +crotchet to the songs of praise which vibrate +around them. I turn aside from their plays in +the theatre and in the library as I turn aside from +the fictions of Pierre de Coulevain and Arnold Bennett.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> + +<p>I love to fashion wreathes of my own and if two +young men will now step forward to the lecturer's +bench I will take delight in crowning them with +my own hands. Will the young man at the back +of the hall please page Avery Hopwood and Philip +Moeller?... No response! They seem to have +retreated modestly into the night. Nevertheless +they shall not escape me!</p> + +<p>I speak of Mr. Hopwood first because he has +been writing for our theatre for a longer period +than has Mr. Moeller, and because his position, +such as it is, is assured. Like Feydeau in France +he has a large popular following; he has probably +made more money in a few years than Mr. Thomas +has made during his whole lifetime and the managers +are always after him to furnish them with +more plays with which to fill their theatres. For +his plays do fill the theatres. <i>Fair and Warmer</i>, +<i>Nobody's Widow</i>, <i>Clothes</i>, and <i>Seven Days</i>, would +be included in any list of the successful pieces produced +in New York within the past ten years. +Two of these pieces would be near the very top +of such a list. An utterly absurd allotment of +actors is sufficient to explain the failures of <i>Sadie +Love</i> and <i>Our Little Wife</i> and it might be well if +some one should attempt a revival of one of his +three serious plays, <i>This Woman and This Man</i>,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +in which Carlotta Nillson appeared for a brief +space.</p> + +<p>This author, mainly through the beneficent +offices of a gift of supernal charm, contrives to do +in English very much what Feydeau does in French. +It is his contention that you can smite the Puritans, +even in the American theatre, squarely on +the cheek, provided you are sagacious in your +choice of weapon. In <i>Fair and Warmer</i> he provokes +the most boisterous and at the same time the +most innocent laughter with a scene which might +have been made insupportably vulgar. A perfectly +respectable young married woman gets very drunk +with the equally respectable husband of one of +her friends. The scene is the mainstay, the <i>raison +d'être</i>, of the play, and it furnishes the material +for the better part of one act; yet young and old, +rich and poor, philistine and superman alike, delight +in it. To make such a situation irresistible +and universal in its appeal is, it seems to me, undoubtedly +the work of genius. What might, indeed +should, have been disgusting, was not only in +intention but in performance very funny. Let +those who do not appreciate the virtuosity of this +undertaking attempt to write as successful a scene +in a similar vein. Even if they are able to do so, +and I do not for a moment believe that there is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +another dramatic author in America who can, they +will be the first to grant the difficulty of the +achievement. With an apparently inexhaustible +fund of fantasy and wit Mr. Hopwood passes his +wand over certain phases of so-called smart life, +almost always with the happiest results. With a +complete realization of the independence of his +medium he often ignores the realistic conventions +and the traditional technique of the stage, but his +touch is so light and joyous, his wit so free from +pose, that he rarely fails to establish his effect. +His pen has seldom faltered. Occasionally, however, +the heavy hand of an uncomprehending stage +director or of an aggressive actor has played +havoc with the delicate texture of his fabric. +There is no need here for the use of hammer or +trowel; if an actress must seek aid in implements, +let her rather rely on a soft brush, a lacy handkerchief, +or a sparkling spangled fan.</p> + +<p>Philip Moeller has achieved distinction in another +field, that of elegant burlesque, of sublimated +caricature. His stage men and women are as +adroitly distorted (the better to expose their +comic possibilities) as the drawings of Max Beerbohm. +Beginning with the Bible and the Odyssey +(<i>Helena's Husband</i> and <i>Sisters of Susannah</i> for +the Washington Square Players) he has at length,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +by way of Shakespeare and Bacon (<i>The Roadhouse +in Arden</i>) arrived at the Romantic Period +in French literature and in <i>Madame Sand</i>, his first +three-act play, he has established himself at once +as a dangerous rival of the authors of <i>Cæsar and +Cleopatra</i> and <i>The Importance of Being Earnest</i>, +both plays in the same <i>genre</i> as Mr. Moeller's +latest contribution to the stage. The author has +thrown a very high light on the sentimental adventures +of the writing lady of the early Nineteenth +Century, has indeed advised us and convinced us +that they were somewhat ridiculous. So they must +have appeared even to her contemporaries, however +seriously George took herself, her romances, +her passions, her petty tragedies. A less adult, a +less seriously trained mind might have fallen into +the error of making a sentimental play out of +George's affairs with Alfred de Musset, Dr. Pagello, +and Chopin (Mr. Moeller contents himself +with these three passions, selected from the somewhat +more extensive list offered to us by history). +Such an author would doubtless have written +<i>Great Catherine</i> in the style of <i>Disraeli</i> and <i>Androcles +and the Lion</i> after the manner of <i>Ben Hur</i>! +Whether love itself is always a comic subject, as +Bernard Shaw would have us believe, is a matter +for dispute, but there can be no alternative opinion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +about the loves of George Sand. A rehearsal of +them offers only laughter to any one but a sentimental +school girl.</p> + +<p>The piece is conceived on a true literary level; +it abounds in wit, in fantasy, in delightful situations, +but there is nothing precious about its +progress. Mr. Moeller has carefully avoided the +traps expressly laid for writers of such plays. +For example, the enjoyment of <i>Madame Sand</i> is in +no way dependent upon a knowledge of the books +of that authoress, De Musset, and Heine, nor yet +upon an acquaintance with the music of Liszt and +Chopin. Such matters are pleasantly and lightly +referred to when they seem pertinent, but no insistence +is laid upon them. Occasionally our author +has appropriated some phrase originally +spoken or written by one of the real characters, +but for that he can scarcely be blamed. Indeed, +when one takes into consideration the wealth of +such material which lay in books waiting for him, +it is surprising that he did not take more advantage +of it. In the main he has relied on his +own cleverness to delight our ears for two hours +with brilliant conversation.</p> + +<p>There is, it should be noted, in conclusion, nothing +essentially American about either of these +young authors. Both Mr. Hopwood and Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +Moeller might have written for the foreign stage. +Several of Mr. Hopwood's pieces, indeed, have already +been transported to foreign climes and there +seems every reason for belief that Mr. Moeller's +comedy will meet a similarly happy fate.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>November 29, 1917.</i></span><br /> +</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="Cantorum" id="Cantorum"></a>De Senectute Cantorum</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><i>"All'età di settanta</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Non si ama, nè si canta."</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Italian proverb.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="De_Senectute_Cantorum" id="De_Senectute_Cantorum"></a>De Senectute Cantorum</h2> + + +<p>"I am not sure," writes Arthur Symons in his +admirable essay on Sarah Bernhardt, "that +the best moment to study an artist is not +the moment of what is called decadence. The +first energy of inspiration is gone; what remains +is the method, the mechanism, and it is that which +alone one can study, as one can study the mechanism +of the body, not the principle of life itself. +What is done mechanically, after the heat of the +blood has cooled, and the divine accidents have +ceased to happen, is precisely all that was consciously +skilful in the performance of an art. To +see all this mechanism left bare, as the form of a +skeleton is left bare when age thins the flesh upon +it is to learn more easily all that is to be learnt of +structure, the art which not art but nature has +hitherto concealed with its merciful covering."</p> + +<p>Mr. Symons, of course, had an actress in mind, +but his argument can be applied to singers as well, +although it is safest to remember that much of +the true beauty of the human voice inevitably departs +with the youth of its owner. Still style in +singing is not noticeably affected by age and an +artist who possesses or who has acquired this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +quality very often can afford to make lewd gestures +at Father Time. If good singing depended +upon a full and sensuous tone, such artists as Ronconi, +Victor Maurel, Max Heinrich, Ludwig +Wüllner, and Maurice Renaud would never have +had any careers at all. It is obvious that any +true estimate of their contribution to the lyric +stage would put the chief emphasis on style, and +this is usually the explanation for extended success +on the opera or concert stage, although occasionally +an extraordinary and exceptional singer +may continue to give pleasure to her auditors, despite +the fact that she has left middle age behind +her, by the mere lovely quality of the tone she +produces.</p> + +<p>In the history of opera there may be found the +names of many singers who have maintained their +popularity and, indeed, a good deal of their art, +long past fifty, and there is recorded at least one +instance in which a singer, after a long absence +from the theatre, returned to the scene of her +earlier triumphs with her powers unimpaired, even +augmented. I refer, of course, to Henrietta Sontag, +born in 1805, who retired from the stage of +the King's Theatre in London in 1830 in her +twenty-fifth year and who returned twenty years +later in 1849. She had, in the meantime, become<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +the Countess Rossi, but although she had abandoned +the stage her reappearance proved that she +had not remained idle during her period of retirement. +For she was one of those artists in whom +early "inspiration" counted for little and +"method" for much. She was, indeed, a mistress +of style. She came back to the public in <i>Linda +di Chaminoux</i> and H. F. Chorley ("Thirty Years' +Musical Recollections") tells us that "all went +wondrously well. No magic could restore to her +voice an upper note or two which Time had taken; +but the skill, grace, and precision with which she +turned to account every atom of power she still +possessed,—the incomparable steadiness with +which she wrought out her composer's intentions—she +carried through the part, from first to last, +without the slightest failure, or sign of weariness—seemed +a triumph. She was greeted—as she +deserved to be—as a beloved old friend come +home again in the late sunnier days.</p> + +<p>"But it was not at the moment of Madame +Sontag's reappearance that we could advert to all +the difficulty which added to the honour of its +success.—She came back under musical conditions +entirely changed since she left the stage—to +an orchestra far stronger than that which had +supported her voice when it was younger; and to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +a new world of operas.—Into this she ventured +with an intrepid industry not to be overpraised—with +every new part enhancing the respect of +every real lover of music.—During the short period +of these new performances at Her Majesty's +Theatre, which was not equivalent to two complete +Opera seasons, not merely did Madame Sontag +go through the range of her old characters—Susanna, +Rosina, Desdemona, Donna Anna, and +the like—but she presented herself in seven or +eight operas which had not existed when she left +the stage—Bellini's <i>Sonnambula</i>, Donizetti's +<i>Linda</i>, <i>La Figlia del Reggimento</i>, <i>Don Pasquale</i>; +<i>Le Tre Nozze</i>, of Signor Alary, <i>La Tempesta</i>, by +M. Halévy—the last two works involving what +the French call 'creation,' otherwise the production +of a part never before represented.—In one +of the favourite characters of her predecessor, the +elder artist beat the younger one hollow.—This +was as Maria, in Donizetti's <i>La Figlia</i>, which +Mdlle. Lind may be said to have brought to England, +and considered as her special property.... +With myself, the real value of Madame Sontag +grew, night after night—as her variety, her conscientious +steadiness, and her adroit use of diminished +powers were thus mercilessly tested. In one +respect, compared with every one who had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +in my time, she was alone, in right, perhaps of +the studies of her early days—as a singer of +Mozart's music."</p> + +<p>It was after these last London seasons that +Mme. Sontag undertook an American tour. She +died in Mexico.</p> + +<p>The great Mme. Pasta's ill-advised return to +the stage in 1850 (when she made two belated appearances +in London) is matter for sadder comment. +Chorley, indeed, is at his best when he +writes of it, his pen dipped in tears, for none had +admired this artist in her prime more passionately +than he. Here was a particularly good opportunity +to study the bare skeleton of interpretative +art; the result is one of the most striking +passages in all literature:</p> + +<p>"Her voice, which at its best, had required +ceaseless watching and practice, had been long ago +given up by her. Its state of utter ruin on the +night in question passes description.—She had +been neglected by those who, at least, should have +presented her person to the best advantage admitted +by Time.—Her queenly robes (she was to +sing some scenes from <i>Anna Bolena</i>) in nowise +suited or disguised her figure. Her hair-dresser +had done some tremendous thing or other with her +head—or rather had left everything undone. A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> +more painful and disastrous spectacle could hardly +be looked on.—There were artists present, who +had then, for the first time, to derive some impression +of a renowned artist—perhaps, with the +natural feeling that her reputation had been exaggerated.—Among +these was Rachel—whose +bitter ridicule of the entire sad show made itself +heard throughout the whole theatre, and drew attention +to the place where she sat—one might +even say, sarcastically enjoying the scene. +Among the audience, however, was another gifted +woman, who might far more legitimately have +been shocked at the utter wreck of every musical +means of expression in the singer—who might +have been more naturally forgiven, if some humour +of self-glorification had made her severely just—not +worse—to an old <i>prima donna</i>;—I mean +Madame Viardot.—Then, and not till then, she +was hearing Madame Pasta.—But Truth will always +answer to the appeal of Truth. Dismal as +was the spectacle—broken, hoarse, and destroyed +as was the voice—the great style of the singer +spoke to the great singer. The first scene was +Ann Boleyn's duet with Jane Seymour. The old +spirit was heard and seen in Madame Pasta's +<i>Sorgi!</i> and the gesture with which she signed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +her penitent rival to rise. Later, she attempted +the final mad scene of the opera—that most complicated +and brilliant among the mad scenes on +the modern musical stage—with its two <i>cantabile</i> +movements, its snatches of recitative, and its <i>bravura</i> +of despair, which may be appealed to as an +example of vocal display, till then unparagoned, +when turned to the account of frenzy, not frivolity—perhaps +as such commissioned by the superb +creative artist.—By that time, tired, unprepared, +in ruin as she was, she had rallied a little. When—on +Ann Boleyn's hearing the coronation music +of her rival, the heroine searches for her own +crown on her brow—Madame Pasta turned in the +direction of the festive sounds, the old irresistible +charm broke out;—nay, even in the final song, +with its <i>roulades</i>, and its scales of shakes, ascending +by a semi-tone, the consummate vocalist and +tragedian, able to combine form with meaning—the +moment of the situation, with such personal +and musical display as form an integral part of +operatic art—was indicated: at least to the apprehension +of a younger artist.—'You are right!' +was Madame Viardot's quick and heartfelt response +(her eyes were full of tears) to a friend +beside her—'You are right! It is like the <i>Cenacolo</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +of Da Vinci at Milan—a wreck of a picture, +but the picture is the greatest picture in the +world!'"</p> + +<p>The great Mme. Viardot herself, whose intractable +voice and noble stage presence inevitably remind +one of Mme. Pasta, took no chances with +fate. The friend of Alfred de Musset, the model +for George Sand's "Consuelo," the "creator" of +Fidès in <i>Le Prophète</i>, and the singer who, in the +revival of <i>Orphée</i> at the Théâtre Lyrique in 1859, +resuscitated Gluck's popularity in Paris, retired +from the opera stage in 1863 at the age of 43, +shortly after she had appeared in <i>Alceste!</i> (She +sang in concert occasionally until 1870 or later.) +Thereafter she divided her time principally between +Baden and Paris and became the great +friend of Turgeniev. His very delightful letters +to her have been published. Idleness was abhorrent +to this fine woman and in her middle and old +age she gave lessons, while singers, composers, and +conductors alike came to her for help and advice. +She died in 1910 at the age of 89. Her less celebrated +brother, Manuel Garcia (less celebrated as +a singer; as a teacher he is given the credit for +having restored Jenny Lind's voice. Among his +other pupils Mathilde Marchesi and Marie Tempest +may be mentioned), had died in 1906 at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +age of 101. Her sister, Mme. Malibran, died very +young, in the early Nineteenth Century, before, in +fact, Mme. Viardot had made her début.</p> + +<p>Few singers have had the wisdom to follow Mme. +Viardot's excellent example. The great Jenny +Lind, long after her voice had lost its quality, continued +to sing in oratorio and concert. So did +Adelina Patti. Muriel Starr once told me of a parrot +she encountered in Australia. The poor bird +had arrived at the noble age of 117 and was entirely +bereft of feathers. Flapping his stumpy +wings he cried incessantly, "I'll fly, by God, I'll +fly!" So, many singers, having lost their voices, +continue to croak, "I'll sing, by God, I'll sing!" +The Earl of Mount Edgcumbe, himself a man of +considerable years when he published his highly +diverting "Musical Reminiscences," gives us some +extraordinary pictures of senility on the stage at +the close of the Eighteenth Century. There was, +for example, the case of Cecilia Davis, the first +Englishwoman to sustain the part of prima donna +and in that situation was second only to Gabrielli, +whom she even rivalled in neatness of execution. +Mount Edgcumbe found Miss Davies in Florence, +unengaged and poor. A concert was arranged at +which she appeared with her sister. Later she returned +to England ... too old to secure an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>engagement. +"This unfortunate woman is now (in +1834) living in London, in the extreme of old age, +disease, and poverty," writes the Earl. He also +speaks of a Signora Galli, of large and masculine +figure and contralto voice, who frequently filled the +part of second man at the Opera. She had been +a principal singer in Handel's oratorios when conducted +by himself. She afterwards fell into extreme +poverty, and at the age of about seventy +(!!!!), was induced to come forward to sing again +at the oratorios. "I had the curiosity to go, and +heard her sing <i>He was despised and rejected of +men</i> in <i>The Messiah</i>. Of course her voice was +cracked and trembling, but it was easy to see her +school was good; and it was a pleasure to observe +the kindness with which she was received and listened +to; and to mark the animation and delight +with which she seemed to hear again the music in +which she had formerly been a distinguished performer. +The poor old woman had been in the +habit of coming to me annually for a trifling +present; and she told me on that occasion that +nothing but the severest distress should have compelled +her so to expose herself, which after all, did +not answer to its end, as she was not paid according +to her agreement. She died shortly after." +In 1783 the Earl heard a singer named Allegranti<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +in Dresden, then at the height of her powers. +Later she returned to England and reappeared in +Cimarosa's <i>Matrimonio Segreto</i>. "Never was +there a more pitiable attempt: she had scarcely a +thread of voice remaining, nor the power to sing +a note in tune: her figure and acting were equally +altered for the worse, and after a few nights she +was obliged to retire and quit the stage altogether." +The celebrated Madame Mara, after a +long sojourn in Russia, suddenly returned to England +and was announced for a benefit performance +at the King's Theatre after everybody had forgotten +her existence. "She must have been at +least seventy; but it was said that her voice had +miraculously returned, and was as good as ever. +But when she displayed those wonderfully revived +powers, they proved, as might have been expected, +lamentably deficient, and the tones she produced +were compared to those of a <i>penny trumpet</i>. +Curiosity was so little excited that the concert +was ill attended ... and Madame Mara was +heard no more. I was not so lucky (or so unlucky) +as to hear these her last notes, as it was +early in the winter, and I was not in town. She +returned to Russia, and was a great sufferer by +the burning of Moscow. After that she lived at +Mitlau, or some other town near the Baltic, where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> +she died at a great age, not many years ago."</p> + +<p>Here is Michael Kelly's account of the same +event: "With all her great skill and knowledge +of the world, Madame Mara was induced, by the +advice of some of her mistaken friends, to give a +public concert at the King's Theatre, in her +seventy-second year, when, in the course of nature +her powers had failed her. It was truly grievous +to see such transcendent talents as she once possessed, +so sunk—so fallen. I used every effort in +my power to prevent her committing herself, but in +vain. Among other arguments to draw her from +her purpose, I told her what happened to Monbelli, +one of the first tenors of his day, who lost +all his well-earned reputation and fame, by rashly +performing the part of a lover, at the Pergola +Theatre, at Florence, in his seventieth year, having +totally lost his voice. On the stage, he was hissed; +and the following lines, lampooning his attempt, +were chalked on his house-door, as well as upon +the walls of the city:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>'All' età di settanta</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Non si ama, nè si canta.'"</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>W. T. Parke, forty years principal oboe player +at Covent Garden Theatre, is kinder to Madame<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> +Mara in his "Musical Memoirs," but it must be +taken into account that he is kinder to every one +else, too. There is little of the acrimonious or the +fault-finding note in his pages. This is his version +of the affair: "That extraordinary singer of +former days, Madame Mara, who had passed the +last eighteen years in Russia, and who had lately +arrived in England, gave a concert at the King's +Theatre on the 6th of March (1820), which highly +excited the curiosity of the musical public. On +that occasion she sang some of her best airs; and +though her powers were greatly inferior to what +they were in her zenith, yet the same pure taste +pervaded her performance. Whether vanity or +interest stimulated Mara at her time of life to that +undertaking, it would be difficult to determine; but +whichsoever had the ascendency, her reign was +short; for by singing one night afterwards at the +vocal concert, the veil which had obscured her +judgment was removed, and she retired to enjoy +in private life those comforts which her rare talent +had procured for her."</p> + +<p>Parke also speaks of a Mrs. Pinto, "the once +celebrated Miss Brent, the original Mandane in +Arne's <i>Artaxerxes</i>," who appeared in 1785 at the +age of nearly seventy in Milton's <i>Mask of Comus</i> +at a benefit for a Mr. Hull, "the respectable stage-manager<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +of Covent Garden Theatre." She was to +sing the song of Sweet Echo and as Parke was to +play the responses to her voice on the oboe he repaired +to her house for rehearsal. "Although +nearly seventy years old, her voice possessed the +remains of those qualities for which it had been so +much celebrated,—power, flexibility, and sweetness. +On the night <i>Comus</i> was performed she +sung with an unexpected degree of excellence, and +was loudly applauded. This old lady, as a +singer, gave me the idea of a fine piece of ruins, +which though considerably dilapidated, still displayed +some of its original beauties."</p> + +<p>The celebrated Faustina, whose quarrel with +Cuzzoni is as famous in the history of music as the +war between Gluck and Piccinni, was less daring. +Dr. Burney visited her when she was seventy-two +years old and asked her to sing. "Alas, I cannot," +she replied, "I have lost all my faculties."</p> + +<p>La Camargo, the favourite dancer of Paris in +the early Eighteenth Century, the inventor, indeed +of the short ballet skirt, and the possessor of +many lovers, retired from the stage in 1751 with +a large fortune, besides a pension of fifteen hundred +francs. Thenceforth she led a secluded life. +She was an assiduous visitor to the poor of her +parish and she kept a dozen dogs and an angora<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +cat which she overwhelmed with affection. In that +quaint book, "The Powder Puff," by Franz Blei, +you may find a most charming description of a +call paid to the lady in 1768 in her little old house +in the Rue St. Thomas du Louvre, by Duclos, +Grimm, and Helvetius, who had come in bantering +mood to ask her whom, in her past life, she had +loved best. Her reply touched these men, who +took their leave. "Helvetius told Camargo's +story to his wife; Grimm made a note of it for his +Court Journal; and as for Duclos, it suggested +some moral reflections to him, for when, two years +later, Mlle. Marianne Camargo was carried to her +grave, he remarked: 'It is quite fitting to give +her a white pall like a virgin.'"</p> + +<p>Sophie Arnould, one of the most celebrated actresses +and singers of the Eighteenth Century, died +in poverty at the age of 63 and there is no record +of her burial place. She had been the friend +of Voltaire, Rousseau, d'Alembert, Diderot, Helvetius, +and the Baron d'Holbach. She had "created" +Gluck's <i>Iphigénie en Aulide</i> and the composer +had said of her, "If it had not been for the +voice and elocution of Mlle. Arnould, my <i>Iphigénie</i> +would never have been performed in France." +In her youth she had interested not only Marie +Antoinette but also the King, and she had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +the object of Mme. de Pompadour's suspicion and +Mme. du Barry's rage. Garrick declared her a +better actress than Clairon. She was as famous +for her wit as for her singing and acting. When +Mme. Laguerre appeared drunk in <i>Iphigénie en +Tauride</i> she exclaimed, "Why this is <i>Iphigénie en +Champagne</i>!" Indeed, she made so many remarks +worthy of preservation that shortly after +her death in 1802, a book called "Arnoldiana," +devoted to her epigrams, was issued.... Nevertheless, +this lady was hissed at the age of 36, when, +after a short absence from the stage she reappeared +as Iphigénie in 1776. She was neither old +nor ugly and if her voice may have lost something +her nineteen years of stage life in Paris might +have weighed against that. On one occasion, according +to La Harpe, when she had the line to sing, +"You long for me to be gone," the audience applauded +vociferously. To protect Sophie, Marie +Antoinette sat in a box on several nights and +stemmed the storm of disapproval, but in the end +even the presence of the queen herself was insufficient +to quell the hissing. One sad story completes +the picture. In 1785, when her financial +troubles were beginning, her two sons, who bore +her no love, called for money. She had none to +give them. "There are two horses left in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> +stable," she said. "Take those." They rode +away on the horses.</p> + +<p>Latin audiences are notoriously unfaithful to +their stage favourites. In "The Innocents +Abroad" Mark Twain tells us of the bad manners +of an Italian audience. The singer he mentions +is Erminia Frezzolini, born at Orvieto in 1818. +She sang both in England and America. Chorley +said of her: "She was an elegant, tall woman, +born with a lovely voice, and bred with great vocal +skill (of a certain order); but she was the first +who arrived of the 'young Italians'—of those +who fancy that driving the voice to its extremities +can stand in the stead of passion. But she was, +nevertheless, a real singer, and her art stood her +in stead for some years after nature broke down. +When she had left her scarce a note of her rich and +real soprano voice to scream with, Madame Frezzolini +was still charming." She died in Paris, +November 5, 1884. Now for Mark Twain:</p> + +<p>"I said I knew nothing against the upper classes +from personal observation. I must recall it. I +had forgotten. What I saw their bravest and +their fairest do last night, the lowest multitude +that could be scraped out of the purlieus of Christendom +would blush to do, I think. They assembled +by hundreds, and even thousands, in the great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +Theatre of San Carlo to do—what? Why simply +to make fun of an old woman—to deride, to +hiss, to jeer at an actress they once worshipped, +but whose beauty is faded now, and whose voice +has lost its former richness. Everybody spoke of +the rare sport there was to be. They said the +theatre would be crammed because Frezzolini was +going to sing. It was said she could not sing well +now, but then the people liked to see her, anyhow. +And so we went. And every time the woman sang +they hissed and laughed—the whole magnificent +house—and as soon as she left the stage they +called her on again with applause. Once or twice +she was encored five and six times in succession, +and received with hisses when she appeared, and +discharged with hisses and laughter when she had +finished—then instantly encored and insulted +again! And how the high-born knaves enjoyed +it! White-kidded gentlemen and ladies laughed +till the tears came, and clapped their hands in +very ecstasy when that unhappy old woman would +come meekly out for the sixth time, with uncomplaining +patience, to meet a storm of hisses! It +was the cruellest exhibition—the most wanton, +the most unfeeling. The singer would have conquered +an audience of American rowdies by her +brave, unflinching tranquillity (for she answered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +encore after encore, and smiled and bowed pleasantly, +and sang the best she possibly could, and +went bowing off, through all the jeers and hisses, +without ever losing countenance or temper); and +surely in any other land than Italy her sex and her +helplessness must have been an ample protection +for her—she could have needed no other. Think +what a multitude of small souls were crowded into +that theatre last night!"</p> + +<p>English audiences, on the other hand, are notoriously +friendly to their old favourites. When Dr. +Hanslick, the Viennese critic, visited England and +heard Sims Reeves singing before crowded houses +as he had been doing for forty or fifty years, he +remarked, "It is not easy to win the favour of the +English public; to lose it is quite impossible."</p> + +<p>Mme. Grisi made her last appearance in London +in 1866 at the theatre she had left twenty years +previously, Her Majesty's. The opera was <i>Lucrezia +Borgia</i>. At the end of the first act she +miscalculated the depth of the apron and the descending +curtain left her outside on her knees. +She had stiffness in her joints and was unable to +rise without assistance.... This situation must +have been very embarassing to a singer who previously +had been an idol of the public. In the passionate +duet with the tenor she made an unsuccessful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +attempt to reach the A natural. Notwithstanding +the fact that she was well received and +that she got through with the greater part of the +opera with credit, her impressario, J. H. Mapleson, +relates in his "Memoirs" that after the final +curtain had fallen she rushed to tell him that it +was all over and that she would never appear +again. In "Student and Singer" Charles Santley +writes of the occasion: "I had been singing +at the Crystal Palace concert in the afternoon, +and after dining there I went up to the theatre +to see a little of the performance. I felt very +sorry for Grisi that she had been induced to appear +again; it was a sad sight for any one who had +known her in her prime, and even long past it."</p> + +<p>However, even English audiences can be cold. +John E. Cox, in his "Musical Recollections," recalls +an earlier occasion when Grisi sang at the +Crystal Palace without much success (July 31, +1861): "On retiring from the orchestra, after a +peculiarly cold reception—as unkind as it was inconsiderate, +seeing what the career of this remarkable +woman had been—there was not a single person +at the foot of the orchestra to receive or to +accompany her to her retiring room! I could imagine +what her feelings at that moment must have +been—she who had in former years been accustomed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +to be thronged, wherever she appeared, and +to be the recipient of adulation—often as exaggerated +as it was fulsome—but who was now +literally deserted. With Grisi—although I had +been once or twice introduced to her—I never had +any personal acquaintance. I could not, however, +resist the impulse of preceding her, without obtruding +myself on her notice, and opening the door +of the retiring room for her, which was situated at +some considerable distance from the orchestra. +Her look as I did this, and she passed out of sight, +is amongst the most painful of my 'Recollections.'"</p> + +<p>German audiences are usually kind to their +favourites. In America we adopt neither the attitude +of the English and Germans, nor yet that +of the Italians and French. We simply stay away +from the theatre. Mark Twain has put it succinctly, +"When a singer has lost his voice and a +jumper his legs, those parties fail to draw."</p> + +<p>Benjamin Lumley in his "Reminiscences of the +Opera," quoting an anonymous friend, relates a +touching story regarding Catalani, who was born +in 1779 and who retired from the stage in 1831. +When Jenny Lind visited Paris in the spring of +1849 she learned to her astonishment that Catalani +was in the French capital. The old singer,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> +who resided habitually in Florence, had come to +Paris with her daughter who, as the widow of a +Frenchman, was obliged to go through certain +legal forms before taking possession of her share +of her husband's property. Through a friend of +both ladies it was arranged that the two should +meet at a dinner at the home of the Marquis of +Normansby, the English ambassador to the Tuscan +court, but the Swedish singer could not restrain +her impatience and before that event she +set out one forenoon for Mme. Catalani's apartment +in the Rue de la Paix and sent in her name +by a servant. The old singer hastened out to +greet her distinguished visitor with obvious delight. +She had known nothing of Mlle. Lind's +presence in Paris and had feared that such a +chance would never befall her, much as she had +longed to see the celebrated singer who had excited +the English public in a way which recalled +her own past triumphs and who rivalled her in her +purity and her charity. They talked together +for an hour.... At the dinner the Marchioness +of Normansby considerately refrained from asking +Jenny Lind to sing, because no one is allowed to +refuse such an invitation made by a representative +of royalty. Catalani, however, had no such scruples. +She went up to the Nightingale and begged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +her to sing, adding, "<i>C'est la vieille Catalini qui +desire vous entendre chanter, avant de mourir!</i>" +This appeal was irresistible. Jenny Lind sat +down to the piano and sang <i>Non credea +mirarti</i> and one or two other airs, including <i>Ah! +non giunge</i>. Catalani is described as sitting on +an ottoman in the centre of the room, rocking her +body to and fro with delight and sympathy, murmuring, +"<i>Ah la bella cosa che la musica, quando +si fà di quella maniera!</i>" and again "<i>Ah! la carissima! +quanto bellissima!</i>" A dinner at Catalani's +apartment followed, but a few days later it +became known that the old singer was ill, an illness +which proved fatal. She had, however, +heard the Swedish Nightingale sing "<i>avant de +mourir</i>."</p> + +<p>William Gardiner visited Madame Catalani in +1846. "I was surprised at the vigour of Madame +Catalani," he says, "and how little she has altered +since I saw her in Derby in 1828. I paid +her a compliment on her good looks. 'Ah,' said +she, 'I'm sixty-six!' She has lost none of that +commanding expression which gave her such dignity +on the stage. She is without a wrinkle, and +appears to be no more than forty. Her breadth +of chest is still remarkable: it is this which endowed +her with the finest voice that ever sang.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +Her speaking voice and dramatic air are still +charming, and not in the least impaired."</p> + +<p>Is Christine Nilsson still alive? I think so. +She was born August 20, 1843. In Clara Louise +Kellogg's very entertaining, but not always trustworthy, +"Memoirs" there is an interesting reference +to this singer in her later career. Dates, unfortunately, +are not furnished. "I was present," +declares Mme. Kellogg, "on the night ... when +she practically murdered the high register of her +voice. She had five upper notes the quality of +which was unlike any other I ever heard and that +possessed a peculiar charm. The tragedy happened +during a performance of <i>The Magic Flute</i> +in London.... Nilsson was the Queen of the +Night, one of her most successful early rôles. +The second aria in <i>The Magic Flute</i> is more famous +and less difficult than the first aria, and also, +more effective. Nilsson knew well the ineffectiveness +of the ending of the first aria in the two weakest +notes of a soprano's voice, A natural and B +flat. I never could understand why a master like +Mozart should have chosen to use them as he did. +There is no climax to the song. One has to climb +up hard and fast and then stop short in the middle. +It is an appalling thing to do and that night +Nilsson took those two notes at the last in <i>chest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +tones</i>. 'Great heavens!' I gasped, 'what is she +doing? What is the woman thinking of!' Of +course I knew she was doing it to get volume and +vibration and to give that trying climax some +character. But to say that it was a fatal attempt +is to put it mildly. She absolutely killed a certain +quality in her voice there and then and she <i>never +recovered it</i>. Even that night she had to cut out +the second great aria. Her beautiful high notes +were gone forever." As I have said, the date of +this incident, which, so far as I know, is not recorded +elsewhere, is not mentioned, but Christine +Nilsson sang in New York in the early Eighties +and continued to sing until 1891, the year of her +final appearance in London.</p> + +<p>Adelina Patti, born the same year as Nilsson +but six months before (February 10, 1843; according +to some records, which by no means go undisputed, +a quartet of famous singers came into the +world this year. The other two were Ilma de +Murska and Pauline Lucca) made many farewell +tours of this country ... one too many in +1903-4, when she displayed the <i>beaux restes</i> of her +voice. She is living at present in retirement at +Craig-y-Nos in Wales. Her greatest rival, +Etelka Gerster, too, is alive, I believe.</p> + +<p>Lilli Lehmann, one of the oldest of the living<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +great singers, was born May 13, 1848. She was +a member of the famous casts which introduced +many of the Wagner works to New York. Her +last appearances in opera here were made, I think, +in the late Nineties, but she has sung here since in +concert and in Germany she has frequently assisted +at the performances of the Mozart festivals at +Salzburg and has even sung in <i>Norma</i> and <i>Götterdämmerung</i> +within recent years! Her head is now +crowned with white hair and her noble appearance +and magnificent style in singing have doubtless +stood her in good stead at these belated performances, +which probably were disappointing, +judged as vocal exhibitions.</p> + +<p>Lillian Nordica had a long career. She was +born May 12, 1859, and made her operatic début +in Brescia in <i>La Traviata</i> in 1879. She continued +to sing up to the time of her death in Batavia, +Java, May 10, 1914. Indeed she was then undertaking +a concert tour of the world at the age of +55! But the artist, who in the Nineties had held +the Metropolitan Opera House stage with honour +in the great dramatic rôles, had very little to offer +in her last years. Never a great musician, defects +in style began to make themselves evident as her +vocal powers decreased. Her season at the Manhattan +Opera House in 1907-8 was quickly and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +unpleasantly terminated. A subsequent single appearance +as Isolde at the Metropolitan in the +winter of 1909-10 was even less successful. The +voice had lost its resonance, the singer her appeal. +Her magnificent courage and indomitable ambition +urged her on to the end.</p> + +<p>Two singers whose voices have been miraculously +preserved, who have indeed suffered little +from the ravages of time, are Marcella Sembrich +and Nellie Melba. Both of these singers, however, +have consistently refrained from misusing +their voices (if one may except the one occasion on +which Mme. Melba attempted to sing Brünnhilde +in <i>Siegfried</i> with disastrous results). Mme. +Melba (according to Grove's Dictionary, which, +like all other books devoted to the subject of +music, is frequently inaccurate) was born in Australia, +May 19, 1859. Therefore she was 28 +years old when she made her début in Brussels as +Gilda on October 12, 1887. She has used her +voice carefully and well and still sings in concert +and opera at the age of 59. With the advance of +age, indeed, her voice began to take on colour. +When she sang here in opera at the Manhattan +Opera House in 1906-7 she was in her best vocal +estate. Her voice, originally rather pale, had become +mellow and rich, although it is possible it had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +lost some of its old remarkable agility. When +last I listened to her in concert, a few years ago at +the Hippodrome, it seemed to me that I had never +before heard so beautiful a voice, and yet Mme. +Melba sang in the first performance of opera I +ever attended (Chicago Auditorium; <i>Faust</i>, February +22, 1899).</p> + +<p>According to H. T. Finck, Caruso once said, +"When you hear that an artist is going to retire, +don't you believe it, for as long as he keeps +his voice he will sing. You may depend upon +that." Sometimes, indeed, longer. Mme. Melba +made a belated and unfortunate attempt to sing +Marguerite in <i>Faust</i> with the Chicago Opera Company, +Monday evening, February 4, 1918, at the +Lexington Theatre, New York. She sang with +some art and style; her tone was still pure and +her wonderful enunciation still remained a feature +of her performance but scarcely a shadow of the +beautiful voice I can remember so well was left. +As if to atone for vocal deficiencies the singer +made histrionic efforts such as she had never +deemed necessary during the height of her career. +Her meeting with Faust in the Kermesse scene was +accomplished with modesty that almost became +fright. She nearly danced the jewel song and embraced +the tenor with passion in the love duet. In<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> +the church scene, overcome with terror at the sight +of Méphistophélès, she flung her prayer book +across the stage.... Her appearance was almost +shocking and the first lines of the part of Marguerite, +"<i>Non monsieur, je ne suis demoiselle, ni +belle</i>" had a merciless application. However, the +audience received her with kindness, more with a +certain sort of enthusiasm. She reappeared again +in the same opera on Thursday evening, February +14, 1918, but on this occasion I did not hear her.</p> + +<p>Marcella Sembrich was born February 15, 1858. +She made her début in Athens in <i>I Puritani</i>, +June 8, 1877, and she made her New York +début in <i>Lucia</i> October 24, 1883, at the beginning +of the first season of the Metropolitan +Opera House. After a long absence she returned +to New York in 1898 as Rosina in <i>Il +Barbiere</i>. After that year she sang pretty +steadily at the Metropolitan until February 6, +1909, when, at the age of 51 (or lacking nine days +of it), she bid farewell to the New York opera +stage in acts from several of her favourite operas. +She subsequently sang in a few performances of +opera in Europe and was heard in song recital in +America. When she left the opera house she had +no rival in vocal artistry; and she had so satisfactorily +solved the problems of style in singing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> +certain kinds of songs that she also surveyed the +field of song recital from a mountain top.... +But such a singer as Mme. Sembrich, who made +her appeal through the expression of the milder +emotions, who never, indeed, attempted to touch +dramatic depths, even style, in the end, will not +assist. Magnificent Lilli Lehmann might make a +certain effect in <i>Götterdämmerung</i> so long as she +had a leg to stand on or a note to croak, but an +adequate delivery of <i>Der Nussbaum</i> or <i>Wie Melodien</i> +demands a vocal control which a singer past +middle age is not always sure of possessing.... +After a long retirement, Mme. Sembrich gave a +concert at Carnegie Hall, November 21, 1915. +The house was crowded and the applause at the +beginning must almost have unnerved the singer, +who walked slowly towards the front of the platform +as the storm burst and then bowed her head +again and again. Her program on this occasion +was not one of her best. She had not chosen familiar +songs in which to return to her public. +This may in a measure account for her lack of success +in always calling forth steady tones. However, +on the whole, her voice sounded amazingly +fresh. Her high notes especially rang true and +resonant as ever. Her middle voice showed wear. +Her style remained impeccable, unrivalled....<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +She announced, following this concert, a series of +four recitals in a small hall and actually appeared +at one of them. This time I did not hear her, but +I am told that her voice refused to respond to her +wishes. Nor was the hall filled. The remaining +concerts were abandoned. "Mme. Sembrich has +never been a failure and she is too old to begin +now!" she is reported to have said to a friend.</p> + +<p>Emma Calvé's date of birth is recorded as 1864 +in some of the musical dictionaries. This would +make her 53 years old. Her singing of the <i>Marseillaise</i> +a year ago at the Allies Bazaar at the +Grand Central Palace proved to me that her retirement +from the Opera was premature. Her +performances at the Manhattan Opera House in +1906-7 were memorable, vocally superb. Her +Carmen was out of drawing dramatically, but her +Anita and her Santuzza remained triumphs of +stage craft.</p> + +<p>Emma Eames, born August 13, 1867, is three +years younger than Mme. Calvé. She made her +début as Juliette, March 13, 1889. She retired +from the opera stage in 1907-8, although she has +sung since then a few times in concert. Her last +appearances at the Opera were made in dramatic +rôles, Donna Anna, Leonora (in <i>Trovatore</i>), and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +Tosca, in contradistinction to the lyric parts in +which she gained her early fame. That she was +entirely successful in compassing the breach cannot +be said in all justice. Yet there was a certain +distinction in her manner, a certain acid quality in +her voice, that gave force to these characterizations. +Certainly, however, no one would ever +have compared her Donna Anna favourably with +her Countess in <i>Figaro</i>. Her performance of <i>Or +sai chi l'onore</i> was deficient in breadth of style and +her lack of breath control at this period gave uncertainty +to her execution.</p> + +<p>Life teaches us, through experience, that no rule +is infallible, but insofar as I am able to give a +meaning to these rambling biographical notes, collected, +I may as well admit, more to interest my +reader than to prove anything, it is the meaning, +sounded with a high note of truth, by Arthur Symons, +in the paragraph quoted at the beginning +of this essay. Style is a rare quality in a singer. +With it in his possession an artist may dare much +for a long time. Without it he exists as long as +those qualities which are perfectly natural to him +exist. A voice fades, but a manner of applying +that voice (even when there is practically no voice +to apply) to an artistic problem has an indefinite +term of life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> + +<p>Yvette Guilbert once told me that crossing the +Atlantic with Duse on one occasion she had asked +the Italian actress if she were going to include <i>La +Dame aux Camélias</i> in her American repertory. +"I am too old to play Marguerite ..." was the +sad response. "She was right," said Guilbert, in +relating the incident, "she was too old; she was +born too old ... in spirit. Now when I am +sixty-three I shall begin to impersonate children. +I grow younger every year!"</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>September 12, 1917.</i></span><br /> +</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="Impressions_in_the_Theatre" id="Impressions_in_the_Theatre"></a>Impressions in the Theatre</h3> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> + +<h2>The Land of Joy</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>"Dancing is something more than an amusement +in Spain. It is part of that solemn ritual +which enters into the whole life of the people. It +expresses their very spirit."</i></p> + +<p class="author"> +Havelock Ellis.<br /> +</p></div> + + +<p>An idle observer of theatrical conditions +might derive a certain ironic pleasure from +remarking the contradiction implied in the +professed admiration of the constables of the +playhouse for the unconventional and their almost +passionate adoration for the conventional. We +constantly hear it said that the public cries for +novelty, and just as constantly we see the same +kind of acting, the same gestures, the same Julian +Mitchellisms and George Marionisms and Ned +Wayburnisms repeated in and out of season, summer +and winter. Indeed, certain conventions +(which bore us even now) are so deeply rooted in +the soil of our theatre that I see no hope of their +being eradicated before the year 1999, at which +date other conventions will have supplanted them +and will likewise have become tiresome.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p> + +<p>In this respect our theatre does not differ materially +from the theatres of other countries except +in one particular. In Europe the juxtaposition +of nations makes an interchange of conventions +possible, which brings about slow change or +rapid revolution. Paris, for example, has received +visits from the Russian Ballet which almost assumed +the proportions of Tartar invasions. +London, too, has been invaded by the Russians +and by the Irish. The Irish playwrights, indeed, +are continually pounding away at British middle-class +complacency. Germany, in turn, has been +invaded by England (we regret that this sentence +has only an artistic and figurative significance), +and we find Max Reinhardt well on his way toward +giving a complete cycle of the plays of Shakespeare; +a few years ago we might have observed +Deutschland groveling hysterically before Oscar +Wilde's <i>Salome</i>, a play which, at least without its +musical dress, has not, I believe, even yet been performed +publicly in London. In Italy, of course, +there are no artistic invasions (nobody cares to +pay for them) and even the conventions of the +Italian theatre themselves, such as the <i>Commedia +del' Arte</i>, are quite dead; so the country remains +as dormant, artistically speaking, as a rag rug, +until an enthusiast like Marinetti arises to take it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +between his teeth and shake it back into rags +again.</p> + +<p>Very often whisperings of art life in the foreign +theatre (such as accounts of Stanislavski's accomplishments +in Moscow) cross the Atlantic. +Very often the husks of the realities (as was the +case with the Russian Ballet) are imported. But +whispers and husks have about as much influence +as the "New York Times" in a mayoralty campaign, +and as a result we find the American theatre +as little aware of world activities in the drama as +a deaf mute living on a pole in the desert of +Sahara would be. Indeed any intrepid foreign +investigator who wishes to study the American +drama, American acting, and American stage decoration +will find them in almost as virgin a condition +as they were in the time of Lincoln.</p> + +<p>A few rude assaults have been made on this +smug eupepsy. I might mention the coming of +Paul Orleneff, who left Alla Nazimova with us to +be eventually swallowed up in the conventional +American theatre. Four or five years ago a company +of Negro players at the Lafayette Theatre +gave a performance of a musical revue that +boomed like the big bell in the Kremlin at Moscow. +Nobody could be deaf to the sounds. Florenz +Ziegfeld took over as many of the tunes and gestures<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +as he could buy for his <i>Follies</i> of that +season, but he neglected to import the one essential +quality of the entertainment, its style, for +the exploitation of which Negro players were indispensable. +For the past two months Mimi +Aguglia, one of the greatest actresses of the world, +has been performing in a succession of classic and +modern plays (a repertory comprising dramas by +Shakespeare, d'Annunzio, and Giacosa) at the +Garibaldi Theatre, on East Fourth Street, before +very large and very enthusiastic audiences, but +uptown culture and managerial acumen will not +awaken to the importance of this gesture until they +read about it in some book published in 1950....</p> + +<p>All of which is merely by way of prelude to what +I feel must be something in the nature of lyric outburst +and verbal explosion. A few nights ago a +Spanish company, unheralded, unsung, indeed almost +unwelcomed by such reviewers as had to +trudge to the out-of-the-way Park Theatre, came +to New York, in a musical revue entitled <i>The +Land of Joy</i>. The score was written by Joaquín +Valverde, <i>fils</i>, whose music is not unknown to us, +and the company included La Argentina, a Spanish +dancer who had given matinees here in a past season +without arousing more than mild enthusiasm. +The theatrical impressarii, the song publishers,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> +and the Broadway rabble stayed away on the first +night. It was all very well, they might have reasoned, +to read about the goings on in Spain, but +they would never do in America. Spanish dancers +had been imported in the past without awakening +undue excitement. Did not the great Carmencita +herself visit America twenty or more years ago? +These impressarii had ignored the existence of a +great psychological (or more properly physiological) +truth: you cannot mix Burgundy and Beer! +One Spanish dancer surrounded by Americans is +just as much lost as the great Nijinsky himself +was in an English music hall, where he made a +complete and dismal failure. And so they would +have been very much astonished (had they been +present) on the opening night to have witnessed +all the scenes of uncontrollable enthusiasm—just +as they are described by Havelock Ellis, Richard +Ford, and Chabrier—repeated. The audience, +indeed, became hysterical, and broke into wild +cries of <i>Ole! Ole!</i> Hats were thrown on the stage. +The audience became as abandoned as the players, +became a part of the action.</p> + +<p>You will find all this described in "The Soul of +Spain," in "Gatherings from Spain," in Chabrier's +letters, and it had all been transplanted to New +York almost without a whisper of preparation,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +which is fortunate, for if it had been expected, +doubtless we would have found the way to spoil it. +Fancy the average New York first-night audience, +stiff and unbending, sceptical and sardonic, welcoming +this exhibition! Havelock Ellis gives an +ingenious explanation for the fact that Spanish +dancing has seldom if ever successfully crossed the +border of the Iberian peninsula: "The finest +Spanish dancing is at once killed or degraded by +the presence of an indifferent or unsympathetic +public, and that is probably why it cannot be +transplanted, but remains local." Fortunately +the Spaniards in the first-night audience gave the +cue, unlocked the lips and loosened the hands of +us cold Americans. For my part, I was soon yelling +<i>Ole!</i> louder than anybody else.</p> + +<p>The dancer, Doloretes, is indeed extraordinary. +The gipsy fascination, the abandoned, perverse +bewitchery of this female devil of the dance is not +to be described by mouth, typewriter, or quilled +pen. Heine would have put her at the head of his +dancing temptresses in his ballet of <i>Méphistophéla</i> +(found by Lumley too indecent for representation +at Her Majesty's Theatre, for which it was written; +in spite of which the scenario was published +in the respectable "Revue de Deux Mondes").<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> +In this ballet a series of dancing celebrities are exhibited +by the female Méphistophélès for the entertainment +of her victim. After Salome had twisted +her flanks and exploited the prowess of her abdominal +muscles to perfunctory applause, Doloretes +would have heated the blood, not only of Faust, +but of the ladies and gentlemen in the orchestra +stalls, with the clicking of her heels, the clacking of +her castanets, now held high over head, now held +low behind her back, the flashing of her ivory teeth, +the shrill screaming, electric magenta of her smile, +the wile of her wriggle, the passion of her performance. +And close beside her the sinuous Mazantinita +would flaunt a garish tambourine and +wave a shrieking fan. All inanimate objects, +shawls, mantillas, combs, and cymbals, become inflamed +with life, once they are pressed into the service +of these señoritas, languorous and forbidding, +indifferent and sensuous. Against these rude gipsies +the refined grace and Goyaesque elegance of +La Argentina stand forth in high relief, La Argentina, +in whose hands the castanets become as potent +an instrument for our pleasure as the violin does in +the fingers of Jascha Heifetz. Bilbao, too, with +his thundering heels and his tauromachian gestures, +bewilders our highly magnetized senses. When, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +the dance, he pursues, without catching, the elusive +Doloretes, it would seem that the limit of dynamic +effects in the theatre had been reached.</p> + +<p>Here are singers! The limpid and lovely +soprano of the comparatively placid Maria Marco, +who introduces figurations into the brilliant music +she sings at every turn. One indecent (there is +no other word for it) chromatic oriental phrase is +so strange that none of us can ever recall it or +forget it! And the frantically nervous Luisita +Puchol, whose eyelids spring open like the cover +of a Jack-in-the-box, and whose hands flutter +like saucy butterflies, sings suggestive popular +ditties just a shade better than any one else I +know of.</p> + +<p>But <i>The Land of Joy</i> does not rely on one or +two principals for its effect. The organization as +a whole is as full of fire and purpose as the original +Russian Ballet; the costumes themselves, in +their blazing, heated colours, constitute the ingredients +of an orgy; the music, now sentimental (the +adaptability of Valverde, who has lived in Paris, is +little short of amazing; there is a vocal waltz in the +style of Arditi that Mme. Patti might have introduced +into the lesson scene of <i>Il Barbiere</i>; there is +another song in the style of George M. Cohan—these +by way of contrast to the Iberian music),<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +now pulsing with rhythmic life, is the best Spanish +music we have yet heard in this country. The +whole entertainment, music, colours, costumes, +songs, dances, and all, is as nicely arranged in its +crescendos and decrescendos, its prestos and +adagios as a Mozart finale. The close of the first +act, in which the ladies sweep the stage with long +ruffled trains, suggestive of all the Manet pictures +you have ever seen, would seem to be unapproachable, +but the most striking costumes and the wildest +dancing are reserved for the very last scene +of all. There these bewildering señoritas come +forth in the splendourous envelope of embroidered +Manila shawls, and such shawls! Prehistoric +African roses of unbelievable measure decorate a +texture of turquoise, from which depends nearly a +yard of silken fringe. In others mingle royal purple +and buff, orange and white, black and the +kaleidoscope! The revue, a sublimated form of +zarzuela, is calculated, indeed, to hold you in a +dangerous state of nervous excitement during the +entire evening, to keep you awake for the rest +of the night, and to entice you to the theatre the +next night and the next. It is as intoxicating as +vodka, as insidious as cocaine, and it is likely to +become a habit, like these stimulants. I have +found, indeed, that it appeals to all classes of taste,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> +from that of a telephone operator, whose usual +artistic debauch is the latest antipyretic novel of +Robert W. Chambers, to that of the frequenter of +the concert halls.</p> + +<p>I cannot resist further cataloguing; details +shake their fists at my memory; for instance, the +intricate rhythms of Valverde's elaborately syncopated +music (not at all like ragtime syncopation), +the thrilling orchestration (I remember one dance +which is accompanied by drum taps and oboe, +nothing else!), the utter absence of tangos (which +are Argentine), and habaneras (which are Cuban), +most of the music being written in two-four and +three-four time, and the interesting use of folk-tunes; +the casual and very suggestive indifference +of the dancers, while they are not dancing, seemingly +models for a dozen Zuloaga paintings, the +apparently inexhaustible skill and variety of these +dancers in action, winding ornaments around the +melodies with their feet and bodies and arms and +heads and castanets as coloratura sopranos do with +their voices. Sometimes castanets are not used; +cymbals supplant them, or tambourines, or even +fingers. Once, by some esoteric witchcraft, the +dancers seemed to tap upon their arms. The +effect was so stupendous and terrifying that I +could not project myself into that aloof state of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +mind necessary for a calm dissection of its technique.</p> + +<p>What we have been thinking of all these years +in accepting the imitation and ignoring the actuality +I don't know; it has all been down in black +and white. What Richard Ford saw and wrote +down in 1846 I am seeing and writing down in +1917. How these devilish Spaniards have been +able to keep it up all this time I can't imagine. +Here we have our paradox. Spain has changed +so little that Ford's book is still the best to be procured +on the subject (you may spend many a delightful +half-hour with the charming irony of its +pages for company). Spanish dancing is apparently +what it was a hundred years ago; no wind +from the north has disturbed it. Stranger still, +it depends for its effect on the acquirement of a +brilliant technique. Merely to play the castanets +requires a severe tutelage. And yet it is all as +spontaneous, as fresh, as unstudied, as vehement +in its appeal, even to Spaniards, as it was in the +beginning. Let us hope that Spain will have no +artistic reawakening.</p> + +<p>Aristotle and Havelock Ellis and Louis Sherwin +have taught us that the theatre should be an outlet +for suppressed desires. So, indeed, the ideal +theatre should. As a matter of fact, in most<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> +playhouses (I will generously refrain from naming +the one I visited yesterday) I am continually +suppressing a desire to strangle somebody or +other, but after a visit to the Spaniards I walk out +into Columbus Circle completely purged of pity +and fear, love, hate, and all the rest. It is an +experience.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>November 3, 1917.</i></span><br /> +</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2> + +<h2>A Note on Mimi Aguglia</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>"Art has to do only with the creation of beauty, +whether it be in words, or sounds, or colour, or outline, +or rhythmical movement; and the man who writes +music is no more truly an artist than the man who +plays that music, the poet who composes rhythms in +words no more truly an artist than the dancer who +composes rhythms with the body, and the one is no +more to be preferred to the other, than the painter is +to be preferred to the sculptor, or the musician to the +poet, in those forms of art which we have agreed to +recognize as of equal value."</i></p> + +<p class="author"> +Arthur Symons.<br /> +</p></div> + + +<p>The only George Jean, "witty, wise, and +cruel," and the "amaranthine" Louis Sherwin, +who understands better than anybody +else how to plunge the rapier into the vulnerable +spot and twist it in the wound, making the victim +writhe, have been having some fun with the art of +acting lately, or to be exact, with the art of +actors. Now actor-baiting is no new game; as a +winter sport it is as popular as making jokes about +mothers-in-law, decrying the art of Bouguereau or +Howard Chandler Christy, or discussing the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> +methods of Mr. Belasco. Ever so long ago (and +George Henry Lewes preceded him) George Moore +wrote an article called "Mummer Worship," holding +the players up to ridicule, but George really +adores the theatre and even acting, goes to the +playhouse constantly, and writes a bad play himself +every few years. None of these has achieved +success on the stage. The list includes <i>Martin +Luther</i>, written with a collaborator, <i>The Strike at +Arlingford</i>, <i>The Bending of the Bough</i> (Moore's +version of a play by Edwin Martyn), a dramatization +of "Esther Waters," <i>Elizabeth Cooper</i>, and +the fragment, <i>The Apostle</i>, on which "The Brook +Kerith," was based. Now he is at work turning +the novel back into another play.... When the +Sunday editor of a newspaper is at his wit's end +he invariably sends a competent reporter to collect +data for a symposium on one of two topics, Is +the author or the player more important? or Does +the stage director make the actor? The amount +of amusement this reporter can derive in gathering +indignant replies from mountebanks and scribblers +is only limited by his own sense of humour. +Even the late Sir Henry Irving felt compelled on +more than one occasion to defend his "noble calling."</p> + +<p>The actor, when he slaps back, usually overlooks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> +the point at issue, but sometimes he has something +to say over which we may well ponder. +Witness, for example, the following passage, +quoted from that justly celebrated compendium +of personal opinions and broad-shaft wit called +"Nat Goodwin's Book": "The average author +and manager of today are prone to advertise +themselves as conspicuously as the play (as if the +public cared a snap who wrote the play or who +'presents'). I doubt if five per cent of the public +know who wrote 'The Second Mrs. Tanqueray,' +'In Mizzoura,' or 'Richelieu,' but they know their +stage favourites. I wonder how many mantels are +adorned with pictures of the successful dramatist +and those who 'present' and how many there are +on which appear Maude Adams, Dave Warfield, +Billie Burke, John Drew, Bernhardt, Duse, and +hundreds of other distinguished players."</p> + +<p>It is principally urged against the claims of +acting as an art that a young person without previous +experience or training can make an immediate +(and sometimes lasting) effect upon the +stage, whereas in the preparation for any other +art (even the interpretative arts) years of training +are necessary. This premise is full of holes; +nevertheless George Moore, and Messrs. Nathan +and Sherwin all cling to it. It is true that almost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> +any young girl, moderately gifted with charm or +comeliness, may make an instantaneous impression +on our stage, especially in the namby-pamby rôles +which our playwrights usually give her to play. +But she is soon found out. She may still attract +audiences (as George Barr McCutcheon and Alma +Tadema still attract audiences) but the discerning +part of the public will take no joy in seeing her. +Charles Frohman said (and he ought to know) +that the average life of a female star on the American +stage was ten years; in other words, her +career continued as long as her youth and physical +charms remained potent.</p> + +<p>We have easily accounted for the unimportant +actors, the rank and file, but what about those who +immediately claim positions which they hold in +spite of their lack of previous training? These +are rarer. At the moment, indeed, I cannot think +of any. For while genius often manifests itself +early in a career, the great actors, as a rule, have +struggled for many years to learn the rudiments +of their art before they have given indisputable +proof of their greatness, or before they have been +recognized. "Real acting," according to Percy +Fitzgerald, "is a science, to be studied and mastered, +as other sciences are studied and mastered, +by long years of training." They may not have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> +had the strenuous Conservatoire and Théâtre +Français training of Sarah Bernhardt. As a +matter of fact, indeed, the actor may far better +learn to handle his tools by manipulating them +before an audience, than by practicing with them +for too long a time in the closet. The technique +of violin playing can best be acquired before the +<i>virtuoso</i> appears in public, although no amount +of training in itself will make a great violinist, but +the basic elements of acting, grace, diction, etc., +can just as well be acquired behind the footlights +and so many great actors have acquired them, as +many of the greatest have ignored them. There +can be no hard and fast rules laid down for this +sort of thing. Can we thank nine months with +Mme. Marchesi for the instantaneous success and +subsequent brilliant career of Mme. Melba? +Against this training offset the years and years of +road playing and the more years of study at home +in retirement to account for the career of Mrs. +Fiske. The Australian soprano was born with a +naturally-placed and flexible voice. Her shake +is said to have been perfection when she was a +child; her scale was even; her intonation impeccable. +She had very little to learn except the rôles +in the operas she was to sing and her future was +very clearly marked from the night she made her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> +début as Gilda in <i>Rigolettò</i>. Mme. Patti was +equally gifted. Mme. Pasta and Mme. Fremstad, +on the other hand, toiled very slowly towards fame. +The former singer was an absolute failure when +she first appeared in London and it took several +years of hard work to make her the greatest lyric +artist of her day. The great Jenny Lind retired +from the stage completely defeated, only to return +as the most popular singer of her time. Mischa +Elman has told me he never practices; Leo Ornstein, +on the other hand, spends hours every day +at the piano. Mozart sprang, full-armed with +genius, into the world. He began composing at +the age of four. No training was necessary for +him, but Beethoven and Wagner developed slowly. +In the field of writers there are even more happy +examples. Hundreds of boys have spent years in +theme and literature courses in college preparing +in vain for a future which was never to be theirs, +while other youths with no educations have taken +to writing as a cat takes to cat-nip. Should we +assume that the annual output of Professor +Baker's class at Harvard produces better playwrights +than Molière or Shakespeare, neither of +whom enjoyed Professor Baker's lectures, nor, I +think I am safe in conjecturing, anything like +them?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p> + +<p>What, after all, constitutes training? For a +creative or interpretative genius mere existence +seems to be sufficient. Joseph Conrad, Nicholas +Rimsky-Korsakov, and Patrick MacGill all were +sailors for many years before they began to write. +We owe "Youth" and the first section of <i>Scheherazade</i> +to this accident. MacGill also had the +privilege of digging potatoes; he writes about it +in "The Rat-pit." Mrs. Patrick Campbell +learned enough about how to move about and how +to speak in the country houses she frequented +before she began her professional career to enable +her immediately to take a position of importance +on the stage. It does not seem necessary, indeed, +that the training for any career should be prescribed +or systematic. Some men get their training +one way and some another. A school of acting +may be of the greatest benefit to A, while B +will not profit by it. Some actors are ruined by +stock companies; others are improved by them. +The geniuses in this interpretative art as in all +the other interpretative and creative arts, seem to +rise above obstructions, and to make themselves +felt, whatever difficulties are put in their way.</p> + +<p>Some great actors, like some great musicians +and authors, create out of their fulness. They +cannot explain; they do not need to study; they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> +create by instinct. Others, like Beethoven and +Olive Fremstad, work and rework their material +in the closet until it approaches perfection, when +they expose it. To say that there are bad actors +following in the footsteps of both these types of +geniuses is to be axiomatic and trite. It would +be a foregone conclusion. Just as there are musicians +who write as easily as Mozart but who +have nothing to say, so there are other musicians +who write and rewrite, work and rework, study +and restudy, and yet what they finally offer the +public has not the quality or the force or the inspiration +of a common gutter-ballad.</p> + +<p>It has also been urged in print that as naturalness +is the goal of the actor he should never have +to strive for it. The names of Frank Reicher and +John Drew are often mentioned as those of men +who "play themselves" on the stage. A most +difficult thing to do! Also an unfortunate choice +of names. Each of these artists has undergone a +long and arduous apprenticeship in order to +achieve the natural method which has given him +eminence in his career. Indeed, of all the qualities +of the actor this is the least easy to acquire.</p> + +<p>Actors are often condemned because they are +not versatile. Versatility is undoubtedly an admirable +quality in an actor, valuable, especially to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +his manager, but hardly an essential one. An artist +is not required to do more than one thing well. +Vladimir de Pachmann specializes in Chopin playing, +but Arthur Symons once wrote that "he is the +greatest living pianist, because he can play certain +things better than any other pianist can play +anything." Should we not allot similar approval +to the actor or actress who makes a fine effect in +one part or in one kind of part? I should not call +Ellen Terry a versatile actress, but I should call +her a great artist. Marie Tempest is not versatile, +unless she should be so designated for having +made equal successes on the lyric and dramatic +stages, but she is one of the most satisfying artists +at present appearing before our public. Mallarmé +was not versatile; Cézanne was not versatile; +nor was Thomas Love Peacock. Mascagni, assuredly, +is not versatile. The da Vincis and Wagners +are rare figures in the history of creative art +just as the Nijinskys and Rachels are rare in the +history of interpretative art.</p> + +<p>Someone may say that the great actor dies while +the play goes thundering on through the ages on +the stage and in everyman's library. This very +point, indeed, is made by Mr. Lewes. But this, +alas, is the reverse of the truth. We have competent +and immensely absorbing records of the lives<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> +and art of David Garrick, Mrs. Siddons, Ristori, +Clairon, Rachel, Charlotte Cushman, Edwin Booth, +and other prominent players, while most of the +plays in which they appeared are not only no +longer actable, but also no longer readable. The +brothers de Goncourt, for example, wrote an account +of Clairon which is a book of the first interest, +while I defy any one to get through two +pages of most of the fustian she was compelled to +act! The reason for this is very easily formulated. +Great acting is human and universal. It +is eternal in its appeal and its memory is easily +kept alive while playwrighting is largely a matter +of fashion, and appeals to the mob of men and +women who never read and who are more interested +in police news than they are in poetry. George +Broadhurst or Henry Bernstein or Arthur Wing +Pinero, or others like them, have always been the +popular playwrights; a few names like Sophocles, +Terence, Molière, Shakespeare, and Ibsen come +rolling down to us, but they are precious and few.</p> + +<p>A great actor, indeed, can put life into perfectly +wooden material. In the case of Sarah +Bernhardt, who was the creator, the actress or +Sardou? In the case of Henry Irving, who was +the creator, the actor or the authors of <i>The Bells</i> +and <i>Faust</i> (not, in this instance, Goethe)? Is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> +Langdon Mitchell's version of "Vanity Fair" sufficiently +a work of art to exist without the co-operation +of Mrs. Fiske? When Duse electrified +her audiences in such plays as <i>The Second Mrs. +Tanqueray</i> and <i>Fedora</i>, were the dramatists responsible +for the effect? Arthur Symons says +of her in the latter play, "A great actress, who is +also a great intelligence, is seen accepting it, for +its purpose, with contempt, as a thing to exercise +her technical skill upon." One reads of Mrs. Siddone +that she could move a roomful of people to +tears merely by repeating the word "hippopotamus" +with varying stress. Should we thank the +behemoth for this miracle?</p> + +<p>Any one who understands, great acting knows +that it is illumination. There are those who are +born to throw light on the creations of the poets, +just as there are others born to be poets. These +interpreters give a new life to the works of the +masters, Æschylus, Congreve, Tchekhov. When, +as more frequently happens, they are called upon +to play mediocre parts it is with their own personal +force, their atmospheric aura that they +create something more than the author himself +ever intended or dreamed of. How could Joseph +Jefferson play <i>Rip Van Winkle</i> for thirty years +(or longer) with scenery in tatters and a company<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> +of mummers which Corse Payton would have +scorned? Was it because of the greatness of the +play? If that were true, why is not some one else +performing this drama today to large audiences? +Has any one read the Joseph Jefferson acting +version of <i>Rip Van Winkle</i>? Who wrote it? +Don't you think it rather extraordinary that a +play which apparently has given so much pleasure, +and in which Jefferson was hailed as a great actor +by every contemporary critic of note, as is in itself +so little known? It is not extraordinary. +It was Jefferson's performance of the title rôle +which gave vitality to the play.</p> + +<p>Of course, there are few actors who have this +power, few great actors. What else could you +expect? A critic might prove that playwriting +was not an art on the majority of the evidence. +Almost all the music composed in America could +be piled up to prove that music was not an art. +Should we say that there is no art of painting because +the Germans have no great painters?</p> + +<p>At present, however, it is quite possible for any +one in New York with car or taxi-cab fare to see +one of the greatest of living actresses. She is not +playing on Broadway. This actress has never been +to dramatic school; she has not had the advantages<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> +of Alla Nazimova, who has worked with at least +one fine stage director. She was simply born a +genius, that is all; she has perfected her art by +appearing in a great variety of parts, the method +of Edwin Booth. Most of these parts happen to +be in masterpieces of the drama. She is not unaccustomed +to playing <i>Zaza</i> one evening and +d'Annunzio's <i>Francesca da Rimini</i> the next. Her +repertory further includes <i>La Dame aux Camélias</i>, +<i>Hamlet</i>, <i>Romeo and Juliet</i>, <i>La Figlia di Iorio</i>, +Giuseppe Giacosa's <i>Come le Foglie</i>, Sicilian folk-plays, +and plays by Arturo Giovannitti. When I +first saw Mimi Aguglia she was little more than a +crude force, a great struggling light, that sometimes +illuminated, nay often blinded, but which +shone in unequal flashes. Experience has made of +her an actress who is almost unfailing in her effect. +If you asked her about the technique of her art +she would probably smile (as Mozart and Schubert +might have done before her); if you asked her +about her method she would not understand you +... but she understands the art of acting.</p> + +<p>Watch her, for instance, in the second act of +<i>Zaza</i>, in the scene in which the music hall singer +discovers that her lover has a wife and child. No +heroics, no shrieks, no conventional posturings and +shruggings and sobbing ... something far worse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> +she exposes to us, a nameless terror. She stands +with her back against a table, nonchalant and +smilingly defiant, unwilling to return to the music +hall with her former partner, but pleasantly jocular +in her refusal. Stung into anger, he hurls his +last bomb. Zaza is smoking. As she listens to +the cruel words the corner of her mouth twitches, +the cigarette almost falls. That is all. There is +a moment's silence unbroken save by the heartbeats +of her spectators. Even the babies which +mothers bring in abundance to the Italian theatre +are quiet. With that esoteric magnetism with +which great artists are possessed she holds the audience +captive by this simple gesture. I could +continue to point out other astounding details +in this impersonation, but not one of them, perhaps, +would illustrate Aguglia's art as does this +one. If no training is necessary to produce effects +of this kind, I would pronounce acting the +most holy of the arts, for then, surely, it is a +direct gift from God.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>September 5, 1917.</i></span><br /> +</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2> + +<h2>The New Isadora</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><i>"We shift and bedeck and bedrape us,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Thou art noble and nude and antique;"</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Swinburne's "Dolores."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>I have a fine memory of a chance description +flung off by some one at a dinner in Paris; a +picture of the youthful Isadora Duncan in her +studio in New York developing her ideals through +sheer will and preserving the contour of her feet +by wearing carpet slippers. The latter detail +stuck in my memory. It may or may not be true, +but it could have been, <i>should</i> have been true. The +incipient dancer keeping her feet pure for her +coming marriage with her art is a subject for +philosophic dissertation or for poetry. There are +many poets who would have seized on this idea for +an ode or even a sonnet, had it occurred to them. +Oscar Wilde would have liked this excuse for a +poem ... even Robert Browning, who would +have woven many moral strophes from this text.... +It would have furnished Mr. George Moore +with material for another story for the volume +called "Celibates." Walter Pater might have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> +dived into some very beautiful, but very conscious, +prose with this theme as a spring-board. Huysmans +would have found this suggestion sufficient +inspiration for a romance the length of "Clarissa +Harlowe." You will remember that the author of +"En Route" meditated writing a novel about a +man who left his house to go to his office. Perceiving +that his shoes have not been polished he +stops at a boot-black's and during the operation +he reviews his affairs. The problem was to make +300 pages of this!... Lombroso would have +added the detail to his long catalogue in "The Man +of Genius" as another proof of the insanity of artists. +Georges Feydeau would have found therein +enough matter for a three-act farce and d'Annunzio +for a poetic drama which he might have +dedicated to "Isadora of the beautiful feet." Sermons +might be preached from the text and many +painters would touch the subject with reverence. +Manet might have painted Isadora with one of the +carpet slippers half depending from a bare, rosy-white +foot.</p> + +<p>There are many fables concerning the beginning +of Isadora's career. One has it that the original +dance in bare feet was an accident.... Isadora +was laving her feet in an upper chamber when her +hostess begged her to dance for her other guests.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> +Just as she was she descended and met with such +approval that thenceforth her feet remained bare. +This is a pretty tale, but it has not the fine ring of +truth of the story of the carpet slippers. There +had been bare-foot dancers before Isadora; there +had been, I venture to say, discinct "Greek +dancers." Isadora's contribution to her art is +spiritual; it is her feeling for the idea of the dance +which isolates her from her contemporaries. +Many have overlooked this essential fact in attempting +to account for her obvious importance. +Her imitators (and has any other interpretative +artist ever had so many?) have purloined her costumes, +her gestures, her steps; they have put the +music of Beethoven and Schubert to new uses as +she had done before them; they have unbound their +hair and freed their feet; but the essence of her +art, the <i>spirit</i>, they have left in her keeping; they +could not well do otherwise.</p> + +<p>Inspired perhaps by Greek phrases, by the +superb collection of Greek vases in the old Pinakotheck +in Munich, Isadora cast the knowledge +she had gleaned of the dancer's training from her. +At least she forced it to be subservient to her new +wishes. She flung aside her memory of the entrechat +and the pirouette, the studied technique of the +ballet; but in so doing she unveiled her own soul.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> +She called her art the renaissance of the Greek +ideal but there was something modern about it, +pagan though it might be in quality. Always it +was pure and sexless ... always abstract emotion +has guided her interpretations.</p> + +<p>In the beginning she danced to the piano music +of Chopin and Schubert. Eleven years ago I saw +her in Munich in a program of Schubert <i>impromptus</i> +and Chopin <i>preludes</i> and <i>mazurkas</i>. A +year or two later she was dancing in Paris to the +accompaniment of the Colonne Orchestra, a good +deal of the music of Gluck's <i>Orfeo</i> and the very +lovely dances from <i>Iphigénie en Aulide</i>. In these +she remained faithful to her original ideal, the +beauty of abstract movement, the rhythm of exquisite +gesture. This was not sense echoing sound +but rather a very delightful confusion of her own +mood with that of the music.</p> + +<p>So a new grace, a new freedom were added to the +dance; in her later representations she has added a +third quality, strength. Too, her immediate interpretations +often suggest concrete images.... +A passionate patriotism for one of her adopted +countries is at the root of her fiery miming of +the <i>Marseillaise</i>, a patriotism apparently as +deep-rooted, certainly as inflaming, as that which +inspired Rachel in her recitation of this hymn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> +during the Paris revolution of 1848. In times +of civil or international conflagration the dancer, +the actress often play important rôles in world +politics. Malvina Cavalazzi, the Italian <i>ballerina</i> +who appeared at the Academy of Music during +the Eighties and who married Charles Mapleson, +son of the impressario, once told me of a part +she had played in the making of United Italy. +During the Austrian invasion the Italian flag was +<i>verboten</i>. One night, however, during a representation +of opera in a town the name of which I have +forgotten, Mme. Cavalazzi wore a costume of green +and white, while her male companion wore red, so +that in the <i>pas de deux</i> which concluded the ballet +they formed automatically a semblance of the +Italian banner. The audience was raised to a +hysterical pitch of enthusiasm and rushed from the +theatre in a violent mood, which resulted in an +immediate encounter with the Austrians and their +eventual expulsion from the city.</p> + +<p>Isadora's pantomimic interpretation of the <i>Marseillaise</i>, +given in New York before the United +States had entered the world war, aroused as +vehement and excited an expression of enthusiasm +as it would be possible for an artist to awaken in +our theatre today. The audiences stood up and +scarcely restrained their impatience to cheer. At<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> +the previous performances in Paris, I am told, the +effect approached the incredible.... In a robe +the colour of blood she stands enfolded; she sees +the enemy advance; she feels the enemy as it +grasps her by the throat; she kisses her flag; she +tastes blood; she is all but crushed under the +weight of the attack; and then she rises, triumphant, +with the terrible cry, <i>Aux armes, citoyens!</i> +Part of her effect is gained by gesture, part by the +massing of her body, but the greater part by +facial expression. In the anguished appeal she +does not make a sound, beyond that made by the +orchestra, but the hideous din of a hundred raucous +voices seems to ring in our ears. We see +Félicien Rops's <i>Vengeance</i> come to life; we see the +<i>sans-culottes</i> following the carts of the aristocrats +on the way to execution ... and finally +we see the superb calm, the majestic flowing +strength of the Victory of Samothrace.... At +times, legs, arms, a leg or an arm, the throat, or +the exposed breast assume an importance above +that of the rest of the mass, suggesting the unfinished +sculpture of Michael Angelo, an aposiopesis +which, of course, served as Rodin's inspiration.</p> + +<p>In the <i>Marche Slav</i> of Tschaikovsky Isadora +symbolizes her conception of the Russian moujik +rising from slavery to freedom. With her hands<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> +bound behind her back, groping, stumbling, head-bowed, +knees bent, she struggles forward, clad only +in a short red garment that barely covers her +thighs. With furtive glances of extreme despair +she peers above and ahead. When the strains of +<i>God Save the Czar</i> are first heard in the orchestra +she falls to her knees and you see the peasant +shuddering under the blows of the knout. The +picture is a tragic one, cumulative in its horrific +details. Finally comes the moment of release and +here Isadora makes one of her great effects. She +does not spread her arms apart with a wide gesture. +She brings them forward slowly and we +observe with horror that they have practically forgotten +how to move at all! They are crushed, +these hands, crushed and bleeding after their long +serfdom; they are not hands at all but claws, +broken, twisted piteous claws! The expression of +frightened, almost uncomprehending, joy with +which Isadora concludes the march is another +stroke of her vivid imaginative genius.</p> + +<p>In her third number inspired by the Great War, +the <i>Marche Lorraine</i> of Louis Ganne, in which is +incorporated the celebrated <i>Chanson Lorraine</i>, +Isadora with her pupils, symbolizes the gaiety of +the martial spirit. It is the spirit of the cavalry +riding gaily with banners waving in the wind; the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> +infantry marching to an inspired tune. There is +nothing of the horror of war or revolution in this +picture ... only the brilliancy and dash of war +... the power and the glory!</p> + +<p>Of late years Isadora has danced (in the conventional +meaning of the word) less and less. +Since her performance at Carnegie Hall several +years ago of the <i>Liebestod</i> from <i>Tristan</i>, which +Walter Damrosch hailed as an extremely interesting +experiment, she has attempted to express +something more than the joy of melody and +rhythm. Indeed on at least three occasions she +has danced a Requiem at the Metropolitan Opera +House.... If the new art at its best is not +dancing, neither is it wholly allied to the art of +pantomime. It would seem, indeed, that Isadora +is attempting to express something of the spirit of +sculpture, perhaps what Vachell Lindsay describes +as "moving sculpture." Her medium, of necessity, +is still rhythmic gesture, but its development +seems almost dream-like. More than the dance +this new art partakes of the fluid and unending +quality of music. Like any other new art it is +not to be understood at first and I confess in the +beginning it said nothing to me but eventually I +began to take pleasure in watching it. Now Isadora's +poetic and imaginative interpretation of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> +symphonic interlude from César Franck's <i>Redemption</i> +is full of beauty and meaning to me and during +the whole course of its performance the interpreter +scarcely rises from her knees. The neck, +the throat, the shoulders, the head and arms are +her means of expression. I thought of Barbey +d'Aurevilly's phrase, "<i>Elle avait l'air de monter +vers Dieu les mains toutes pleines de bonnes +oeuvres.</i>"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Isadora's teaching has had its results but her influence +has been wider in other directions. Fokine +thanks her for the new Russian Ballet. She did +indeed free the Russians from the conventions of +the classic ballet and but for her it is doubtful +if we should have seen <i>Scheherazade</i> and <i>Cléopâtre</i>. +<i>Daphnis et Chloe</i>, <i>Narcisse</i>, and <i>L'Aprèsmidi +d'un Faune</i> bear her direct stamp. This +then, aside from her own appearances, has been +her great work. Of her celebrated school of dancing +I cannot speak with so much enthusiasm. The +defect in her method of teaching is her insistence +(consciously or unconsciously) on herself as a +model. The seven remaining girls of her school +dance delightfully. They are, in addition, young +and beautiful, but they are miniature Isadoras. +They add nothing to her style; they make the same<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> +gestures; they take the same steps; they have almost, +if not quite, acquired a semblance of her +spirit. They vibrate with intention; they have +force; but constantly they suggest just what they +are ... imitations. When they dance alone they +often make a very charming but scarcely overpowering +effect. When they dance with Isadora they +are but a moving row of shadow shapes of Isadora +that come and go. Her own presence suffices to +make the effect they all make together.... I +have been told that when Isadora watches her girls +dance she often weeps, for then and then only she +can behold herself. One of the griefs of an actor +or a dancer is that he can never see himself. This +oversight of nature Isadora has to some extent +overcome.</p> + +<p>Those who like to see pretty dancing, pretty +girls, pretty things in general will not find much +pleasure in contemplating the art of Isadora. +She is not pretty; her dancing is not pretty. She +has been cast in nobler mould and it is her pleasure +to climb higher mountains. Her gesture is +titanic; her mood generally one of imperious grandeur. +She has grown larger with the years—and +by this I mean something more than the physical +meaning of the word, for she is indeed heroic in +build. But this is the secret of her power and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> +force. There is no suggestion of flabbiness about +her and so she can impart to us the soul of the +struggling moujik, the spirit of a nation, the figure +on the prow of a Greek bark.... And when +she interprets the <i>Marseillaise</i> she seems indeed to +feel the mighty moment.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>July 14, 1917.</i></span></p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2> + +<h2>Margaret Anglin Produces<br /> +<i>As You Like It</i></h2> + + +<p>Of all the comedies of Shakespeare <i>As You +Like It</i> is the one which has attracted to +itself the most attention from actresses. +No feminine star but what at one time or another +has a desire to play Rosalind. Bernard Shaw +says, "Who ever failed or could fail as Rosalind?" +and I am inclined to think him right, +though opinions differ. It would seem, however, +that Rosalind is to the dramatic stage what Mimi +in <i>La Bohème</i> is to the lyric, a rôle in which a +maximum of effect can be gotten with a minimum +of effort.</p> + +<p>Opinions differ however. Stung to fury by +Mrs. Kendal's playing of the part, George Moore +says somewhere, "Mrs. Kendal nurses children all +day and strives to play Rosalind at night. What +infatuation, what ridiculous endeavour! To realize +the beautiful woodland passion and the idea of +the transformation a woman must have sinned, for +only through sin may we learn the charm of innocence. +To play Rosalind a woman must have had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> +more than one lover, and if she has been made to +wait in the rain and has been beaten she will have +done a great deal to qualify herself for the part." +Still another critic considers the rôle a difficult one. +He says: "With the exception of Lady Macbeth +no woman in Shakespeare is so much in controversy +as Rosalind. The character is thought to +be almost unattainable. An ideal that is lofty but +at the same time vague seems to possess the Shakespeare +scholar, accompanied by the profound conviction +that it never can be fulfilled. Only a few +actresses have obtained recognition as Rosalind, +chief among them being Mrs. Pritchard, Peg Woffington, +Mrs. Dancer, Dora Jordan, Louisa Nesbitt, +Helen Faucit, Ellen Tree, Adelaide Neilson, +Mrs. Scott-Siddons and Miss Mary Anderson."</p> + +<p>Of those who have recently played Rosalind perhaps +Mary Anderson, Ada Rehan, Henrietta Crosman +and Julia Marlowe will remain longest in the +memory, although Marie Wainwright, Mary Shaw, +Mrs. Langtry and Julia Neilson are among a long +list of those who have tried the part. Miss Rehan +appeared in the rôle when Augustin Daly revived +the comedy at Daly's Theatre, December 17, 1889. +We are told that an effort was made in this production +to emphasize the buoyant gaiety of the +piece. The scenery displayed the woods embellished<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> +in a springtime green, and the acting did +away as much as possible with any of the underlying +melancholy which flows through the comedy.</p> + +<p>William Winter frankly asserts—perhaps not +unwittingly giving a staggering blow to the art of +acting in so doing—that the reason Rosalind is +not more often embodied "in a competent and enthralling +manner is that her enchanting quality is +something that cannot be assumed—it must be +possessed; it must exist in the fibre of the individual, +and its expression will then be spontaneous. +Art can accomplish much, but it cannot supply the +inherent captivation that constitutes the puissance +of Rosalind. Miss Rehan possesses that quality, +and the method of her art was the fluent method of +natural grace."</p> + +<p>Fie and a fig for Mr. Moore's theory about being +beaten and standing in the rain, implies Mr. +Winter!</p> + +<p>To Mr. Winter I am also indebted for a description +of Mary Anderson in <i>As You Like It</i>: "Miss +Anderson, superbly handsome as Rosalind, indicated +that beneath her pretty swagger, nimble +satire and silver playfulness Rosalind is as earnest +of Juliet—though different in temperament and +mind—as fond as Viola and as constant as +Imogen."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span></p> + +<p>Miss Marlowe's Rosalind, somewhat along the +same lines as Miss Anderson's, and Miss Crosman's, +a hoydenish, tomboy sort of creature, first +cousin to Mistress Nell and the young lady of <i>The +Amazons</i>, should be familiar to theatregoers of the +last two decades.</p> + +<p>Last Monday evening Margaret Anglin exposed +her version of the comedy. As might have been +expected, it has met with some unfavourable criticism. +Preconceived notions of Rosalind are as +prevalent as preconceived notions of Hamlet. +And yet if <i>As You Like It</i> had been produced Monday +night as a "new fantastic comedy," just as +<i>Prunella</i> was, for instance, I am inclined to think +that everybody who dissented would have been at +Miss Anglin's charming heels.</p> + +<p>The scenery has been given undue prominence +both by the management and by the writers for +the newspapers. Its most interesting feature is +the arrangement by which it is speedily changed +about. There were no long waits caused by the +settings of scenes during the acts. To say, however, +that it has anything to do with the art of +Gordon Craig is to speak nonsense. The scenes +are painted in much the same manner as that to +which we are accustomed and inured. There is a +certain haze over the trees, caused partially by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> +tints and partially by the lighting, which produces +a rather charming effect, but the outlines of the +trees are quite definite; no impressionism here.</p> + +<p>The acting is quite a different matter. <i>As You +Like It</i> is one of the most modern in spirit of the +Shakespeare plays. This air of modernity is still +further emphasized by the fact that the play, for +the most part, is written in prose. I feel certain +that Bernard Shaw derived part of his inspiration +for <i>Man and Superman</i> from <i>As You Like It</i>. +Only in Shakespeare's play Ann Whitefield (Rosalind) +pursues Octavius (Orlando) instead of +Jack Tanner. I am inclined to believe that +Shaw's psychology in this instance is the more +sound. It seems incredible that a girl so witty, +so beautiful, and so intelligent as Rosalind should +waste so much time on that sentimental, uncomprehending +creature known as Orlando. Every line +of Orlando should have sounded the knell of his +fate in her ears. However, it must be remembered +that Orlando was young and good-looking, and +that, at least in the play, men of the right stamp +seemed to be scarce. Of course, it is out of +Touchstone that Shaw has evolved his Jack Tanner.</p> + +<p>Whether Miss Anglin had this idea in mind or +not when she produced the comedy I have no means<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> +of ascertaining. It is not essential to my point. +At least she has emphasized it, and she has done +the most intelligent stage directing that I have observed +in the performance of a Shakespeare play +for many a long season. There is consistency in +the acting. Rosalind, Jaques, Touchstone, Celia, +Oliver, the dukes, Charles, Sylvius, the whole lot, +in fact, are natural in method and manner. There +is no striving for the fantastic. Let that part of +the comedy take care of itself, undoubtedly suggested +Miss Anglin.</p> + +<p>Jaques, finely portrayed by Fuller Mellish, delivers +that arrant bit of nonsense "The Seven +Ages of Man" in such a manner as a man might +tell a rather serious story in a drawing room. +"The Seven Ages of Man," of course, is just +as much of an aria as <i>La Donna e Mobile</i>. It +always awakens applause, but this time the applause +was deserved. Mr. Mellish emphasized the +cynical side of the rôle. He smiled in and out of +season, and his most "melancholy" remarks were +delivered in such a manner as to indicate that they +were not too deeply felt. Jaques was a little bored +with the forest and his companions, but he would +have been quite in his element at Mme. Récamier's. +Such was the impression that Fuller Mellish gave. +Bravo, Mr. Mellish, for an impression!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p> + +<p>Similarly the Touchstone of Sidney Greenstreet. +We are accustomed to more physically attractive +Touchstones, fools with finer bodies, and yet this +keen-minded, stout person spoke his lines with such +pertness and spontaneity that they rarely failed of +their proper effect. As for Orlando, it seemed to +me that Pedro de Cordoba was a little too rhetorical +at times to fit in with the spirit of the performance, +but Orlando at times does not fit into +the play. For instance, when he utters those incredible +lines:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If ever you have looked on better days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If ever been where bells have knolled to church,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If ever sat at any good man's feast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear...."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I do not know whether Miss Anglin is a disciple +of George Moore or William Winter in her acting +of Rosalind. How she acquired her charm is not +for us to seek into. It is only for us to credit her +with having it in great plenty. A charming natural +manner which made the masquerading lady +seem more than a fantasy. Her warning to Phebe,</p> + +<p> +"Sell when you can; you are not for all markets,"<br /> +</p> + +<p>was delicious in its effect. I remember no Rosalind +who wooed her Orlando so delightfully. For<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> +Rosalind, as Woman the Pursuer, driven forward +by the Life Force, is convincingly Miss Anglin's +conception—a conception which fits the comedy +admirably.</p> + +<p>As to the objections which have been raised to +Miss Anglin's assumption of the masculine garments +without any attempt at counterfeiting masculinity, +I would ask my reader, if she be a woman, +what she would do if she found it necessary to wear +men's clothes. If she were not an actress she +would undoubtedly behave much as she did in +women's, suppressing unnecessary and telltale gestures +as much as possible, but not trying to imitate +mannish gestures which would immediately +stamp her an impostor. There is no internal evidence +in Shakespeare's play to prove that Rosalind +was an actress. She might have appeared in private +theatricals at the palace, but even that is +doubtful. Consequently when she donned men's +clothes it became evident to her that many men +are effeminate in gesture and those that are do +not ordinarily affect mannish movements. Her +most obvious concealment was to be natural—quite +herself. This, I think, is one of the most interesting +and well-thought-out points of Miss +Anglin's interpretation.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>March 20, 1914.</i></span><br /> +</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="Modern" id="Modern"></a>The Modern Composers at a Glance</h3> + + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="The_Modern_Composers" id="The_Modern_Composers"></a>The Modern Composers at a Glance</h2> + + +<h3>An Impertinent Catalogue</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Igor Stravinsky</span>: Paul Revere rides in Russia.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Cyril Scott</span>: A young man playing Debussy in +a Maidenhead villa.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Balilla Pratella</span>: Pretty noises in funny +places.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Engelbert Humperdinck</span>: His master's voice.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Leo Ornstein</span>: A small boy upsetting a push-cart.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Giacomo Puccini</span>: Pinocchio in a passion.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Erik Satie</span>: A mandarin with a toy pistol firing +into a wedding cake.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Paul Dukas</span>: A giant eating bonbons.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Riccardo Zandonai</span>: Brocade dipped in garlic.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Erich Korngold</span>: The white hope.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Arnold Schoenberg</span>: Six times six is thirty-six—and +six is ninety-two!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Maurice Ravel</span>: Tomorrow ... and tomorrow ... +and tomorrow....</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Claude Debussy</span>: Chantecler crows <i>pianissimo</i> +in whole tones.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Richard Strauss</span>: An ostrich <i>not</i> hiding his +head.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Edward Elgar</span>: The footman leaves his accordion +in the bishop's carriage.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Italo Montemezzi</span>: Three Kings—but no aces.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Percy Aldridge Grainger</span>: An effete Australian +chewing tobacco.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>August 8, 1917</i>.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="FOOTNOTES" id="FOOTNOTES"></a>FOOTNOTES:</h2> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> One evidence of this is that his works are eagerly sought +after and treated tenderly by the second-hand book-sellers. +Some of them command fancy prices.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> For an account of Péladan see my essay on Erik Satie +in "Interpreters and Interpretations."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> You will find an account of Balzac's interesting theory +regarding names and letters, which may well have had a direct +influence on Edgar Saltus, in Saltus's "Balzac," p. 29 +<i>et seq.</i> For a precisely contrary theory turn to "The Naming +of Streets" in Max Beerbohm's "Yet Again."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> "Wit and Wisdom from Edgar Saltus" by G. F. +Monkshood and George Gamble, and "The Cynic's Posy," +a collection of epigrams, the majority of which are taken +from Saltus, may be brought forward in evidence.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Certain books by Edgar Saltus have been announced +from time to time but have never appeared; these include: +"Annochiatura," "Immortal Greece," "Our Lady of +Beauty," "Cimmeria," "Daughters of Dream," "Scaffolds +and Altars," "Prince Charming," and "The Crimson Curtain."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Houghton, Mifflin and Co,; 1884. Reprinted 1887 and +1890.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Houghton, Mifflin and Co.; 1885. Reprinted by the Belford +Co.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> George J. Coombes; 1886. Reprinted by Brentano's.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Scribner and Welford; 1887. Revised edition, Belford, +Clarke and Co.; 1889.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Brentano's; 1887.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Benjamin and Bell; 1887.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Belford Co.; 1888.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> Belford, Clarke and Co.; 1888.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Belford Co.; 1889.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Belford Co.; 1889.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Belford, Clarke and Co.; 1889.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> Belford Co.; 1890.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> Belford Co.; 1891.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> Belford Co.; 1891. Reprinted by Mitchell Kennerley; +1906.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> P. F. Collier; 1892; "Written especially for 'Once a +Week Library.'"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> Morrill, Higgins and Co;. 1893. Reprinted by Mitchell +Kennerley; 1906.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> F. Tennyson Neely; 1893.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> Tudor Press: 1894.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> The Transatlantic Publishing Co.; 1895.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> Ainslee; 1903.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> A. Wessels Co.; 1905.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> Mitchell Kennerley; 1906.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> J. B. Lippincott Co.; 1906.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> Mitchell Kennerley; 1907.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> Mitchell Kennerley; 1907.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> Mitchell Kennerley; 1909.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> Pulitzer Publishing Co.; 1912.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> In an essay entitled "The Great American Composer" in +my book, "Interpreters and Interpretations."</p></div> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p><hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Index" id="Index"></a>Index</h2> + + +<p> +Abbott, Emma, <a href="#Page_220">220</a><br /> +<br /> +Academy of Arts and Letters, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /> +<br /> +Acting, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>, <a href="#Page_293">293</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Adam, Villiers de l'Isle, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a><br /> +<br /> +Adams, Maude, <a href="#Page_295">295</a><br /> +<br /> +Adams, Oscar Fay, <a href="#Page_38">38</a><br /> +<br /> +Æschylus, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a><br /> +<br /> +Agrippina, <a href="#Page_69">69</a><br /> +<br /> +Aguglia, Mimi, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>, <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Ainslee's Magazine, <a href="#Page_75">75</a><br /> +<br /> +Alary, Signor, <a href="#Page_248">248</a><br /> +<br /> +Alboni, Marietta, <a href="#Page_169">169</a><br /> +<br /> +Alchemy, <a href="#Page_76">76</a><br /> +<br /> +Allegranti, Maddalena, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a><br /> +<br /> +Alma Tadema, <a href="#Page_296">296</a><br /> +<br /> +Alvary, Max, <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +Anderson, Mary, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a><br /> +<br /> +Anfossi, Pasquale, <a href="#Page_169">169</a><br /> +<br /> +Anglin, Margaret, <a href="#Page_321">321</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +d'Annunzio, G., <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a><br /> +<br /> +Apaches, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a> <i>et seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a><br /> +<br /> +Apthorp, W. F., <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a><br /> +<br /> +Arabanek, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> +<br /> +Archilei, <a href="#Page_94">94</a><br /> +<br /> +Arditi, Luigi, <a href="#Page_288">288</a><br /> +<br /> +Argentina, La, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a><br /> +<br /> +Argus, The, <a href="#Page_54">54</a><br /> +<br /> +Aristotle, <a href="#Page_291">291</a><br /> +<br /> +Arne, <a href="#Page_257">257</a><br /> +<br /> +Arnould, Sophie, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Astor, J. J., <a href="#Page_227">227</a><br /> +<br /> +Atilla, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +Audran, <a href="#Page_216">216</a><br /> +<br /> +Augustus, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a><br /> +<br /> +d'Aurevilly, Barbey, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a><br /> +<br /> +Ayres, Frederick, <a href="#Page_200">200</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Bach, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a><br /> +<br /> +Badarzewska, Thécla, <a href="#Page_23">23</a><br /> +<br /> +Baedeker, <a href="#Page_58">58</a><br /> +<br /> +Bag-pipe, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a><br /> +<br /> +Bahamas, <a href="#Page_136">136</a><br /> +<br /> +Baker, J. Duncan, <a href="#Page_211">211</a><br /> +<br /> +Baker, Prof., <a href="#Page_298">298</a><br /> +<br /> +Bakst, Leon, <a href="#Page_16">16</a><br /> +<br /> +Bal des Gravilliers, <a href="#Page_141">141</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Balfe, Michael William, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a><br /> +<br /> +Bal musette, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Balzac, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a><br /> +<br /> +Banti, Brigitta, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> +<br /> +Bara, Theda, <a href="#Page_80">80</a><br /> +<br /> +Barnabee, Henry Clay, <a href="#Page_221">221</a><br /> +<br /> +Barnet, R. A., <a href="#Page_216">216</a><br /> +<br /> +Barrison, Mabel, <a href="#Page_219">219</a><br /> +<br /> +Barry, Mme. du, <a href="#Page_260">260</a><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span><br /> +Bassoonists, <a href="#Page_157">157</a><br /> +<br /> +Bataille, Henry, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a><br /> +<br /> +Bates, Katherine Lee, <a href="#Page_38">38</a><br /> +<br /> +Battistini, <a href="#Page_102">102</a><br /> +<br /> +Baudelaire, Charles, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a><br /> +<br /> +Baumgarten, C. F., <a href="#Page_171">171</a><br /> +<br /> +Bayes, Nora, <a href="#Page_110">110</a><br /> +<br /> +Beardsley, Aubrey, <a href="#Page_45">45</a><br /> +<br /> +Becque, Henry, <a href="#Page_230">230</a><br /> +<br /> +Beerbohm, Max, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a><br /> +<br /> +Beethoven, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a><br /> +<br /> +Bégué, Bernard, <a href="#Page_156">156</a><br /> +<br /> +Belasco, David, <a href="#Page_294">294</a><br /> +<br /> +Bel canto, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a><br /> +<br /> +Belford's Magazine, <a href="#Page_37">37</a><br /> +<br /> +Bell, Digby, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Bellini, Vincenzo, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a><br /> +<br /> +Bel-Marduk, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Bergström, Hjalmar, 90<br /> +<br /> +Berlin, Irving, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a><br /> +<br /> +Berlioz, Hector, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a><br /> +<br /> +Bernacchi, Antonio, <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +Bernhardt, Sarah, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_295">295</a>, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a><br /> +<br /> +Bernstein, Henry, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a><br /> +<br /> +Bible, The, <a href="#Page_67">67</a><br /> +<br /> +Bichara, <a href="#Page_15">15</a><br /> +<br /> +Bilbao, <a href="#Page_287">287</a><br /> +<br /> +Billington, Mrs., <a href="#Page_172">172</a><br /> +<br /> +Bizet, Georges, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a><br /> +<br /> +Blanche, Jacques, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a><br /> +<br /> +Blei, Franz, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a><br /> +<br /> +Böcklin, Arnold, <a href="#Page_89">89</a><br /> +<br /> +Bonci, Alessandro, <a href="#Page_102">102</a><br /> +<br /> +Booth, Edwin, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a><br /> +<br /> +Bouguereau, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_293">293</a><br /> +<br /> +Bourget, Paul, <a href="#Page_76">76</a><br /> +<br /> +Boyden, Frank L., <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /> +<br /> +Boynton, Henry Walcott, <a href="#Page_38">38</a><br /> +<br /> +Brahma, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Brahms, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a><br /> +<br /> +Brann-Brini, Mlle., <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> +<br /> +Branscombe, Gena, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +Brenon, Algernon St. John, <a href="#Page_162">162</a><br /> +<br /> +Bretón, Tomás, <a href="#Page_113">113</a><br /> +<br /> +Brian, Donald, <a href="#Page_217">217</a><br /> +<br /> +Brice, Fannie, <a href="#Page_110">110</a><br /> +<br /> +Brieux, <a href="#Page_230">230</a><br /> +<br /> +Brignoli, Pasquale, <a href="#Page_155">155</a><br /> +<br /> +Broadhurst, George, <a href="#Page_302">302</a><br /> +<br /> +Bromley, Eliza, <a href="#Page_74">74</a><br /> +<br /> +Brothers of the Book, <a href="#Page_85">85</a><br /> +<br /> +Browning, Robert, <a href="#Page_307">307</a><br /> +<br /> +Bunn, Alfred, <a href="#Page_165">165</a><br /> +<br /> +Burke, Billie, <a href="#Page_295">295</a><br /> +<br /> +Burney, Dr., <a href="#Page_258">258</a><br /> +<br /> +Butler, Samuel, <a href="#Page_21">21</a><br /> +<br /> +Byzance, <a href="#Page_80">80</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Cabanel, <a href="#Page_61">61</a><br /> +<br /> +Cæsar, Julius, <a href="#Page_69">69</a><br /> +<br /> +Caffarelli, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a><br /> +<br /> +Cahill, Marie, <a href="#Page_110">110</a><br /> +<br /> +Cairns, William B., <a href="#Page_38">38</a><br /> +<br /> +Caligula, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +Calvé, Emma, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a><br /> +<br /> +Camargo, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span><br /> +Campanari, Giuseppe, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a><br /> +<br /> +Campbell, Mrs. Patrick, <a href="#Page_299">299</a><br /> +<br /> +Caracalla, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +Carestini, Giovanni, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a><br /> +<br /> +Carmencita, <a href="#Page_285">285</a><br /> +<br /> +Carnegie Hall, <a href="#Page_25">25</a><br /> +<br /> +Carré, Albert, <a href="#Page_133">133</a><br /> +<br /> +Carreño, Teresa, <a href="#Page_153">153</a><br /> +<br /> +Caruso, Enrico, <a href="#Page_272">272</a><br /> +<br /> +Cassive, Armande, <a href="#Page_232">232</a><br /> +<br /> +Catalani, Angelica, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_265">265</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Cato, <a href="#Page_69">69</a><br /> +<br /> +Cats, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a><br /> +<br /> +Cavalazzi, Malvina, <a href="#Page_310">310</a><br /> +<br /> +Cesare Borgia, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +Cézanne, <a href="#Page_301">301</a><br /> +<br /> +Chabrier, Emmanuel, <a href="#Page_285">285</a><br /> +<br /> +Chadwick, George W., <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a><br /> +<br /> +Chambers, Robert W., <a href="#Page_290">290</a><br /> +<br /> +Chaliapine, Feodor, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a><br /> +<br /> +Charpentier, Gustave, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> +<br /> +Cherubini, <a href="#Page_98">98</a><br /> +<br /> +Cherubino's question, <a href="#Page_54">54</a><br /> +<br /> +Chinese plays, <a href="#Page_103">103</a><br /> +<br /> +Chopin, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_310">310</a><br /> +<br /> +Chorley, Henry Fothergill, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_261">261</a><br /> +<br /> +Christ, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a><br /> +<br /> +Christianity, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a><br /> +<br /> +Christy, Howard Chandler, <a href="#Page_293">293</a><br /> +<br /> +Churchill, Lady Randolph, <a href="#Page_185">185</a><br /> +<br /> +Cimarosa, Domenico, <a href="#Page_255">255</a><br /> +<br /> +Cinderella, <a href="#Page_137">137</a><br /> +<br /> +Cicisbeism, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Clairon, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a><br /> +<br /> +Classical music, <a href="#Page_23">23</a><br /> +<br /> +Claudius, <a href="#Page_69">69</a><br /> +<br /> +Cleopatra, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Cline, Maggie, <a href="#Page_107">107</a><br /> +<br /> +Coerne, L. A., <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +Cohan, George M., <a href="#Page_288">288</a><br /> +<br /> +Colles, Ramsay, <a href="#Page_39">39</a><br /> +<br /> +Colonne Orchestra, <a href="#Page_310">310</a><br /> +<br /> +Coloratura singing, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a><br /> +<br /> +Columbia University, <a href="#Page_43">43</a><br /> +<br /> +Comstock, Anthony, <a href="#Page_59">59</a><br /> +<br /> +Condamine, Robert de la, <a href="#Page_183">183</a><br /> +<br /> +Congreve, <a href="#Page_303">303</a><br /> +<br /> +Conrad, Joseph, <a href="#Page_299">299</a><br /> +<br /> +Conried, Henrich, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a><br /> +<br /> +Converse, Frederick, <a href="#Page_212">212</a><br /> +<br /> +Cooking, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Cordoba, Pedro de, <a href="#Page_324">324</a><br /> +<br /> +Corneille, <a href="#Page_104">104</a><br /> +<br /> +Costa, Michael, <a href="#Page_163">163</a><br /> +<br /> +Cou-Cou Restaurant, <a href="#Page_125">125</a> <i>et seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a><br /> +<br /> +Courts of Love, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Cox, J. E., <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a><br /> +<br /> +Cox, Kenyon, <a href="#Page_62">62</a><br /> +<br /> +Craig, Gordon, <a href="#Page_321">321</a><br /> +<br /> +Critics, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a><br /> +<br /> +Crosman, Henrietta, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a><br /> +<br /> +Crowest, Frederick, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> +<br /> +Current Literature, <a href="#Page_39">39</a><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span><br /> +Cushman, Charlotte, <a href="#Page_302">302</a><br /> +<br /> +Cuzzoni, Francesca, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Daly, Augustin, <a href="#Page_319">319</a><br /> +<br /> +Daly, Dan, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Damrosch, Walter, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a><br /> +<br /> +Dancing, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a> <i>et seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_281">281</a> <i>et seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Dante, <a href="#Page_76">76</a><br /> +<br /> +Darby, W. D., <a href="#Page_200">200</a><br /> +<br /> +Davis, Cecilia, <a href="#Page_253">253</a><br /> +<br /> +Davis, Jessie Bartlett, <a href="#Page_221">221</a><br /> +<br /> +Davis, Owen, <a href="#Page_93">93</a><br /> +<br /> +Debussy, Claude, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a><br /> +<br /> +Decoration, Interior, <a href="#Page_11">11</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Delacroix, <a href="#Page_19">19</a><br /> +<br /> +Delibes, Léo, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a><br /> +<br /> +Deslys, Gaby, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Destinn, Emmy, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a><br /> +<br /> +Devi, Ratan, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +Dickens, Charles, <a href="#Page_187">187</a><br /> +<br /> +Dolmetsch, Arnold, <a href="#Page_192">192</a><br /> +<br /> +Doloretes, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>, <a href="#Page_288">288</a><br /> +<br /> +Donizetti, Gaetano, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a><br /> +<br /> +Doubleday, <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /> +<br /> +Dreiser, Theodore, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /> +<br /> +Dresser, Paul, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a><br /> +<br /> +Dressler, Marie, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Drew, John, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_295">295</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a><br /> +<br /> +Duclos, <a href="#Page_259">259</a><br /> +<br /> +Duff-Gordon, Lady, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Dukas, Paul, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a><br /> +<br /> +Dumas, Alexandre, <i>fils</i>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a><br /> +<br /> +Duncan, Isadora, <a href="#Page_307">307</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Duse, Eleanora, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_295">295</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a><br /> +<br /> +Dussek, Johann Ludwig, <a href="#Page_171">171</a><br /> +<br /> +Dyer, Edward, <a href="#Page_209">209</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Eames, Emma, <a href="#Page_275">275</a><br /> +<br /> +Earle, Virginia, <a href="#Page_219">219</a><br /> +<br /> +Ehrhard, Auguste, <a href="#Page_55">55</a><br /> +<br /> +Elgar, Sir Edward, <a href="#Page_329">329</a><br /> +<br /> +Elizabethan plays, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a><br /> +<br /> +Ellis, Havelock, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_291">291</a><br /> +<br /> +Ellis, Melville, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Elman, Mischa, <a href="#Page_298">298</a><br /> +<br /> +Elson, L. C., <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a><br /> +<br /> +Elssler, Fanny, <a href="#Page_55">55</a><br /> +<br /> +Eltinge, Julian, <a href="#Page_96">96</a><br /> +<br /> +Emerson, Ralph Waldo, <a href="#Page_43">43</a><br /> +<br /> +Euripides, <a href="#Page_103">103</a><br /> +<br /> +Evertson, Admiral Kornelis, <a href="#Page_42">42</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Fall, Leo, <a href="#Page_216">216</a><br /> +<br /> +Fame, <a href="#Page_42">42</a><br /> +<br /> +Farinelli, <a href="#Page_95">95</a><br /> +<br /> +Farwell, Arthur, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +Faustina, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a><br /> +<br /> +Fawcett, Edgar, <a href="#Page_66">66</a><br /> +<br /> +Février, Henry, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a><br /> +<br /> +Feydeau, Georges, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a><br /> +<br /> +Finck, H. T., <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_272">272</a><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span><br /> +Fischer, Johann Christian, <a href="#Page_161">161</a><br /> +<br /> +Fiske, Mrs., <a href="#Page_297">297</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a><br /> +<br /> +Fitzgerald, Percy, <a href="#Page_296">296</a><br /> +<br /> +Flaubert, Gustave, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a><br /> +<br /> +Folk-song, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a><br /> +<br /> +Follies, The, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a><br /> +<br /> +Foote, Arthur, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +Ford, Richard, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_291">291</a><br /> +<br /> +Formes, Karl, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> +<br /> +Forum, The, <a href="#Page_87">87</a><br /> +<br /> +Foster, Stephen, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a><br /> +<br /> +Fox, Della, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a><br /> +<br /> +Fox, Helen Kelsey, <a href="#Page_208">208</a><br /> +<br /> +Fragonard, <a href="#Page_18">18</a><br /> +<br /> +France, Anatole, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a><br /> +<br /> +Franck, César, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a><br /> +<br /> +Franz, Robert, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a><br /> +<br /> +Fremstad, Olive, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a><br /> +<br /> +Freud, <a href="#Page_50">50</a><br /> +<br /> +Frezzolini, Erminia, <a href="#Page_261">261</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Frohman, Charles, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_296">296</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Gadski, Johanna, <a href="#Page_155">155</a><br /> +<br /> +Galli, Signora, <a href="#Page_254">254</a><br /> +<br /> +Galli-Curci, Amelita, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a><br /> +<br /> +Gamble, George, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_54">54</a><br /> +<br /> +Ganne, Louis, <a href="#Page_313">313</a><br /> +<br /> +Garcia, Manuel, <a href="#Page_160">160</a><br /> +<br /> +Garcia, Manuel, <i>fils</i>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a><br /> +<br /> +Garden, Mary, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a> <i>et seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a><br /> +<br /> +Gardiner, William, <a href="#Page_267">267</a><br /> +<br /> +Garrick, David, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a><br /> +<br /> +Gautier, Théophile, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a><br /> +<br /> +German music, <a href="#Page_150">150</a><br /> +<br /> +Gerome, <a href="#Page_61">61</a><br /> +<br /> +Gerster, Etelka, <a href="#Page_269">269</a><br /> +<br /> +Giacosa, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a><br /> +<br /> +Giardini, Felice de, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> +<br /> +Gibbons, Grinling, <a href="#Page_19">19</a><br /> +<br /> +Gilbert, W. S., <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a><br /> +<br /> +Giovannitti, Arturo, <a href="#Page_305">305</a><br /> +<br /> +Gipsy, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a><br /> +<br /> +Gizziello, <a href="#Page_95">95</a><br /> +<br /> +Glaser, Lulu, <a href="#Page_219">219</a><br /> +<br /> +Gluck, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_310">310</a><br /> +<br /> +Goncourt, Brothers de, <a href="#Page_302">302</a><br /> +<br /> +Goodrich, A. J., <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +Goodwin, Nat, <a href="#Page_295">295</a><br /> +<br /> +Gosse, Edmund, <a href="#Page_179">179</a><br /> +<br /> +Gounod, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a><br /> +<br /> +Gourmont, Remy de, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a><br /> +<br /> +Goya, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a><br /> +<br /> +Grainger, Percy, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_330">330</a><br /> +<br /> +Grau, Maurice, <a href="#Page_161">161</a><br /> +<br /> +Greek Plays, <a href="#Page_103">103</a><br /> +<br /> +Greenstreet, Sidney, <a href="#Page_324">324</a><br /> +<br /> +Greenwich Village, <a href="#Page_16">16</a><br /> +<br /> +Gregory, Lady, <a href="#Page_192">192</a><br /> +<br /> +Grétry, <a href="#Page_170">170</a><br /> +<br /> +Grieg, Edvard, <a href="#Page_93">93</a><br /> +<br /> +Grimm, <a href="#Page_259">259</a><br /> +<br /> +Grisi, Giulia, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Grove, Sir George, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_271">271</a><br /> +<br /> +Guilbert, Yvette, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Hadley, Henry, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a><br /> +<br /> +Hadrian, <a href="#Page_69">69</a><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span><br /> +Hale, Philip, <a href="#Page_33">33</a><br /> +<br /> +Halévy, Jacques, <a href="#Page_248">248</a><br /> +<br /> +Hall, Pauline, <a href="#Page_219">219</a><br /> +<br /> +Handel, George Frederick, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_254">254</a><br /> +<br /> +Hanslick, Eduard, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a><br /> +<br /> +Harris, Charles K., <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +Harris, Frank, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a><br /> +<br /> +Hartmann, Eduard von, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a><br /> +<br /> +Hawthorne vases, <a href="#Page_18">18</a><br /> +<br /> +Hay, Reverend John Stuart, <a href="#Page_72">72</a><br /> +<br /> +Haydn, <a href="#Page_28">28</a><br /> +<br /> +Heidelberg, <a href="#Page_43">43</a><br /> +<br /> +Heifetz, Jascha, <a href="#Page_287">287</a><br /> +<br /> +Heine, Heinrich, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a><br /> +<br /> +Heinrich, Max, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a><br /> +<br /> +Helen of Troy, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Heliogabolus, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a><br /> +<br /> +Héloïse, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Helvetius, <a href="#Page_259">259</a><br /> +<br /> +Henderson, W. J., <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a><br /> +<br /> +Herbert, Victor, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a><br /> +<br /> +Hergesheimer, Joseph, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a><br /> +<br /> +Herodotus, <a href="#Page_86">86</a><br /> +<br /> +Hertz, Alfred, <a href="#Page_155">155</a><br /> +<br /> +Hervieu, Paul, <a href="#Page_228">228</a><br /> +<br /> +Heyse, Paul, <a href="#Page_67">67</a><br /> +<br /> +Hichens, Robert, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a><br /> +<br /> +Higginson, Thomas Wentworth, <a href="#Page_38">38</a><br /> +<br /> +Hirsch, Charles-Henry, <a href="#Page_141">141</a><br /> +<br /> +Hirsch, Louis A., <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Hoff, Edwin, <a href="#Page_221">221</a><br /> +<br /> +Hollins, Mabel, <a href="#Page_219">219</a><br /> +<br /> +Homer, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a><br /> +<br /> +Hopper, De Wolf, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a><br /> +<br /> +Hopwood, Avery, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Horace, <a href="#Page_76">76</a><br /> +<br /> +Howells, W. D., <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a><br /> +<br /> +Hubbard, Elbert, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a><br /> +<br /> +Hughes, Rupert, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a><br /> +<br /> +Hugo, Victor, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a><br /> +<br /> +Humperdinck, Engelbert, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a><br /> +<br /> +Huneker, James, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> +<br /> +Huss, Henry Holden, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +Huysmans, J. K., <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Ibsen, <a href="#Page_302">302</a><br /> +<br /> +Incest, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a><br /> +<br /> +d'Indy, Vincent, <a href="#Page_200">200</a><br /> +<br /> +Irving, Sir Henry, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a><br /> +<br /> +Irwin, May, <a href="#Page_110">110</a><br /> +<br /> +Ivan the Terrible, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Jackson, Holbrook, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a><br /> +<br /> +James, Henry, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a><br /> +<br /> +Janis, Elsie, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Jansen, Marie, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Jefferson, Joseph, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a><br /> +<br /> +Jehovah, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Jensen, Adolph, <a href="#Page_24">24</a><br /> +<br /> +Jew, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a><br /> +<br /> +Joachim, Joseph, <a href="#Page_156">156</a><br /> +<br /> +Jolson, Al, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Jones, Henry Arthur, <a href="#Page_234">234</a><br /> +<br /> +Joseffy, Rafael, <a href="#Page_155">155</a><br /> +<br /> +Judic, <a href="#Page_220">220</a><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span><br /> +Jupiter, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Kaiser, The, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +Kapila, <a href="#Page_57">57</a><br /> +<br /> +Keane, Doris, <a href="#Page_13">13</a><br /> +<br /> +Kellogg, Clara Louise, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a><br /> +<br /> +Kellow, Lottie A., <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a><br /> +<br /> +Kelly, Michael, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a><br /> +<br /> +Kendal, Mrs., <a href="#Page_318">318</a><br /> +<br /> +Kenton, Edna, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_53">53</a><br /> +<br /> +Ker, Ann, <a href="#Page_74">74</a><br /> +<br /> +Kern, Jerome, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Korngold, Erich, <a href="#Page_329">329</a><br /> +<br /> +Koven, Reginald de, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a><br /> +<br /> +Krehbiel, H. E., <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a><br /> +<br /> +Krishna, <a href="#Page_83">83</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Labatt, <a href="#Page_104">104</a><br /> +<br /> +Lablache, Luigi, <a href="#Page_163">163</a><br /> +<br /> +Laforgue, Jules, <a href="#Page_43">43</a><br /> +<br /> +Laguerre, Mme., <a href="#Page_260">260</a><br /> +<br /> +La Harpe, <a href="#Page_260">260</a><br /> +<br /> +Lalo, Pierre, <a href="#Page_33">33</a><br /> +<br /> +Lampridius, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a><br /> +<br /> +Lavignac, Albert, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> +<br /> +Lecocq, Charles, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a><br /> +<br /> +Lehar, Franz, <a href="#Page_216">216</a><br /> +<br /> +Lehmann, Lilli, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a><br /> +<br /> +Leoncavallo, Ruggiero, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a><br /> +<br /> +Lesbian, <a href="#Page_75">75</a><br /> +<br /> +Lessing, Madge, <a href="#Page_219">219</a><br /> +<br /> +Levey, Ethel, <a href="#Page_110">110</a><br /> +<br /> +Lewes, George Henry, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a><br /> +<br /> +Lienau's, <a href="#Page_154">154</a><br /> +<br /> +Lind, Jenny, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, <a href="#Page_265">265</a> <i>et seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a><br /> +<br /> +Lindsay, Vachell, <a href="#Page_314">314</a><br /> +<br /> +Lippincott's Magazine, <a href="#Page_63">63</a><br /> +<br /> +Lisle, Leconte de, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a><br /> +<br /> +Liszt, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a><br /> +<br /> +Lombard, Jean, <a href="#Page_69">69</a><br /> +<br /> +Lombroso, <a href="#Page_308">308</a><br /> +<br /> +Loomis, Harvey W., <a href="#Page_200">200</a><br /> +<br /> +Louis XIV, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a><br /> +<br /> +Louis XV, <a href="#Page_12">12</a><br /> +<br /> +Love, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Loy, Mina, <a href="#Page_188">188</a><br /> +<br /> +Lucca, Pauline, <a href="#Page_269">269</a><br /> +<br /> +Lulli, <a href="#Page_172">172</a><br /> +<br /> +Lumley, Benjamin, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +MacDowell, Edward, <a href="#Page_25">25</a><br /> +<br /> +Macdonald, John Z., <a href="#Page_208">208</a><br /> +<br /> +MacGill, Patrick, <a href="#Page_299">299</a><br /> +<br /> +MacKaye, Percy, <a href="#Page_235">235</a><br /> +<br /> +McCutcheon, George Barr, <a href="#Page_296">296</a><br /> +<br /> +McIntosh, Nancy, <a href="#Page_219">219</a><br /> +<br /> +Macy, John, <a href="#Page_38">38</a><br /> +<br /> +Maeterlinck, Maurice, <a href="#Page_117">117</a><br /> +<br /> +Mahler, Gustav, <a href="#Page_28">28</a><br /> +<br /> +Male sopranos, <a href="#Page_94">94</a><br /> +<br /> +Malibran, Maria, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a><br /> +<br /> +Mallarmé, Stéphane, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a><br /> +<br /> +Manet, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a><br /> +<br /> +Mapleson, J. H., <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a><br /> +<br /> +Mara, Gertrude Elisabeth, <a href="#Page_255">255</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Marchesi, Mathilde, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_297">297</a><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span><br /> +Marco, Maria, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_288">288</a><br /> +<br /> +Marie Antoinette, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a><br /> +<br /> +Marinetti, <a href="#Page_282">282</a><br /> +<br /> +Mario, <a href="#Page_102">102</a><br /> +<br /> +Marion, George, <a href="#Page_28">28</a><br /> +<br /> +Marlowe, Julia, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a><br /> +<br /> +Marnold, Jean, <a href="#Page_32">32</a><br /> +<br /> +Marseillaise, <a href="#Page_310">310</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Martyn, Edward, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_294">294</a><br /> +<br /> +Mary Magdalen, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a><br /> +<br /> +Mascagni, Pietro, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a><br /> +<br /> +Massenet, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a><br /> +<br /> +Matisse, <a href="#Page_19">19</a><br /> +<br /> +Maurel, Victor, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a><br /> +<br /> +May, Edna, <a href="#Page_219">219</a><br /> +<br /> +Mayhew, Stella, <a href="#Page_110">110</a><br /> +<br /> +Mazantinita, <a href="#Page_287">287</a><br /> +<br /> +Mazarin, Mariette, <a href="#Page_114">114</a><br /> +<br /> +Mazzoleni, <a href="#Page_166">166</a><br /> +<br /> +Melba, Nellie, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_271">271</a> <i>et seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_297">297</a><br /> +<br /> +Mellish, Fuller, <a href="#Page_323">323</a><br /> +<br /> +Melody, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a><br /> +<br /> +Mencken, H. L., <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a><br /> +<br /> +Mendelssohn, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +Mendès, Catulle, <a href="#Page_43">43</a><br /> +<br /> +Meredith, George, <a href="#Page_187">187</a><br /> +<br /> +Mérimée, Prosper, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a><br /> +<br /> +Meyerbeer, Giacomo, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a><br /> +<br /> +Michael Angelo, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a><br /> +<br /> +Michelet, <a href="#Page_76">76</a><br /> +<br /> +Milton, <a href="#Page_257">257</a><br /> +<br /> +Mirbeau, Octave, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a><br /> +<br /> +Mitchell, Julian, <a href="#Page_281">281</a><br /> +<br /> +Mitchell, Langdon, <a href="#Page_303">303</a><br /> +<br /> +Modern Orchestra, <a href="#Page_98">98</a><br /> +<br /> +Modulation, <a href="#Page_30">30</a><br /> +<br /> +Moeller, Philip, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Molière, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a><br /> +<br /> +Monbelli, <a href="#Page_256">256</a><br /> +<br /> +Monkshood, G. F., <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_54">54</a><br /> +<br /> +Montaigne, <a href="#Page_150">150</a><br /> +<br /> +Montemezzi, Italo, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_330">330</a><br /> +<br /> +Montes, <a href="#Page_189">189</a><br /> +<br /> +Monteverde, <a href="#Page_102">102</a><br /> +<br /> +Montmartre, <a href="#Page_126">126</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Monvel, Boutet de, <a href="#Page_142">142</a><br /> +<br /> +Moore, George, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a> <i>et seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>, <a href="#Page_295">295</a>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a>, <a href="#Page_324">324</a><br /> +<br /> +Moors, The, <a href="#Page_65">65</a><br /> +<br /> +Moreau, Gustave, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a><br /> +<br /> +"Morrill, Higgins, and Co.," <a href="#Page_71">71</a><br /> +<br /> +Moulin de la Galette, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a><br /> +<br /> +Mount Edgcumbe, Earl of, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a><br /> +<br /> +Moussorgsky, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a><br /> +<br /> +Mozart, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a><br /> +<br /> +Mullin, W. T., <a href="#Page_204">204</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Murillo, <a href="#Page_190">190</a><br /> +<br /> +Murphy, Agnes G., <a href="#Page_155">155</a><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span><br /> +Murska, Ilma de, <a href="#Page_269">269</a><br /> +<br /> +Musset, Alfred de, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a><br /> +<br /> +Musette, <a href="#Page_135">135</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Nachbaur, Franz, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> +<br /> +Names, Theory of, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a><br /> +<br /> +Napoleon, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a><br /> +<br /> +Naldi, Giuseppe, <a href="#Page_160">160</a><br /> +<br /> +Nathan, George Jean, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>, <a href="#Page_295">295</a><br /> +<br /> +Nazimova, Alla, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a><br /> +<br /> +Negro Players, <a href="#Page_283">283</a><br /> +<br /> +Newman, Ernest, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a><br /> +<br /> +Niemann, Albert, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> +<br /> +Nero, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a><br /> +<br /> +Nerval, Gérard de, <a href="#Page_31">31</a><br /> +<br /> +New York Times, The, <a href="#Page_233">233</a><br /> +<br /> +Nicolai, Carl, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> +<br /> +Nicolini, <a href="#Page_95">95</a><br /> +<br /> +Nielsen, Alice, <a href="#Page_219">219</a><br /> +<br /> +Nijinsky, Waslav, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a><br /> +<br /> +Nillson, Carlotta, <a href="#Page_237">237</a><br /> +<br /> +Nilsson, Christine, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a><br /> +<br /> +Nordica, Lillian, <a href="#Page_270">270</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Offenbach, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a><br /> +<br /> +Opéra-Comique, Paris, <a href="#Page_131">131</a><br /> +<br /> +Orleneff, Paul, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a><br /> +<br /> +Ornstein, Leo, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a><br /> +<br /> +Oysters, American, <a href="#Page_158">158</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Pacchierotti, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a><br /> +<br /> +Pachmann, Vladimir de, <a href="#Page_301">301</a><br /> +<br /> +Paganini, <a href="#Page_172">172</a><br /> +<br /> +Palmer, Delmar G., <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a><br /> +<br /> +Pan, Peter, <a href="#Page_137">137</a><br /> +<br /> +Parke, W. T., <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a><br /> +<br /> +Parker, Horatio W., <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a><br /> +<br /> +Pasta, Giuditta, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Pater, Walter, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a><br /> +<br /> +Pattee, Fred Lewis, <a href="#Page_38">38</a><br /> +<br /> +Patti, Adelina, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a><br /> +<br /> +Payton, Corse, <a href="#Page_304">304</a><br /> +<br /> +Peacock, Thomas Love, <a href="#Page_301">301</a><br /> +<br /> +Péladan, Josephin, <a href="#Page_43">43</a><br /> +<br /> +Persian miniatures, <a href="#Page_19">19</a><br /> +<br /> +Pessimism, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a><br /> +<br /> +Petrarch, <a href="#Page_76">76</a><br /> +<br /> +Pfitzner, Hans, <a href="#Page_200">200</a><br /> +<br /> +Perfumes, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +Phelps, William Lyon, <a href="#Page_38">38</a><br /> +<br /> +Phémé, <a href="#Page_86">86</a><br /> +<br /> +Philip II, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +Philistine, The, <a href="#Page_39">39</a><br /> +<br /> +Philosophy of Edgar Saltus, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a><br /> +<br /> +Picasso, Pablo, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a><br /> +<br /> +Piccinni, Niccola, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a><br /> +<br /> +Pinero, Arthur Wing, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_295">295</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a><br /> +<br /> +Pinto, Mrs., <a href="#Page_257">257</a><br /> +<br /> +Pischek, Johann, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> +<br /> +Pistocchi, Francesco, <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +Plagiarism, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +Poe, Edgar Allan, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a><br /> +<br /> +Pogliani, Giacomo, <a href="#Page_157">157</a><br /> +<br /> +Poiret, Paul, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Poisons, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span><br /> +Pollard, Percival, <a href="#Page_48">48</a><br /> +<br /> +Pompadour, Mme. de, <a href="#Page_260">260</a><br /> +<br /> +Ponchielli, Amilcare, <a href="#Page_175">175</a><br /> +<br /> +Popular music, <a href="#Page_23">23</a><br /> +<br /> +Porpora, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +Pougy, Liane de, <a href="#Page_201">201</a><br /> +<br /> +Pratella, Balilla, <a href="#Page_329">329</a><br /> +<br /> +Puccini, Giacomo, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a><br /> +<br /> +Puchol, Luisita, <a href="#Page_288">288</a><br /> +<br /> +Puente, del, <a href="#Page_159">159</a><br /> +<br /> +Purcell, Henry, <a href="#Page_152">152</a><br /> +<br /> +Puritanism, <a href="#Page_65">65</a><br /> +<br /> +Pyrrhonist, <a href="#Page_179">179</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Quincy, de, <a href="#Page_31">31</a><br /> +<br /> +Quinlan, Gertrude, <a href="#Page_219">219</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Rabusson, <a href="#Page_63">63</a><br /> +<br /> +Rachel, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_310">310</a><br /> +<br /> +Radcliffe, Mrs., <a href="#Page_74">74</a><br /> +<br /> +Raff, Joseph Joachim, <a href="#Page_23">23</a><br /> +<br /> +Ragtime, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a><br /> +<br /> +Rankin, Phyllis, <a href="#Page_219">219</a><br /> +<br /> +Ravel, Maurice, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a><br /> +<br /> +Realism in fiction, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a><br /> +<br /> +Realistic acting, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a><br /> +<br /> +Reeves, Sims, <a href="#Page_263">263</a><br /> +<br /> +Reger, Max, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a><br /> +<br /> +Rehan, Ada, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a><br /> +<br /> +Reicher, Frank, <a href="#Page_300">300</a><br /> +<br /> +Reinhardt, Max, <a href="#Page_282">282</a><br /> +<br /> +Renan, <a href="#Page_76">76</a><br /> +<br /> +Renaud, Maurice, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a><br /> +<br /> +Repplier, Agnes, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a><br /> +<br /> +Reszke, Jean de, <a href="#Page_100">100</a><br /> +<br /> +Retz, Gille de, <a href="#Page_80">80</a><br /> +<br /> +Rimbaud, Arthur, <a href="#Page_43">43</a><br /> +<br /> +Rimsky-Korsakov, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a><br /> +<br /> +Ring, Blanche, <a href="#Page_110">110</a><br /> +<br /> +Ristori, <a href="#Page_302">302</a><br /> +<br /> +Rives, Mme. Amélie, <a href="#Page_48">48</a><br /> +<br /> +Rodin, Auguste, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a><br /> +<br /> +Rome, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a><br /> +<br /> +Ronalds, Lorillard, <a href="#Page_69">69</a><br /> +<br /> +Ronconi, Giorgio, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a><br /> +<br /> +Ronsard, <a href="#Page_76">76</a><br /> +<br /> +Roosevelt, Theodore, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a><br /> +<br /> +Rops, Félicien, <a href="#Page_312">312</a><br /> +<br /> +Rorer, Mrs., <a href="#Page_149">149</a><br /> +<br /> +Rossini, Gioacchino, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>, <a href="#Page_288">288</a><br /> +<br /> +Rostand, <a href="#Page_228">228</a><br /> +<br /> +Rowland, Adele, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Rübgam, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> +<br /> +Rubini, Giovanni Battista, <a href="#Page_163">163</a><br /> +<br /> +Rubinstein, Anton, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a><br /> +<br /> +Runciman, J. F., <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a><br /> +<br /> +Russell, Lillian, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a><br /> +<br /> +Russian Ballet, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a><br /> +<br /> +Rutherford, John S., <a href="#Page_63">63</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Sacré-Coeur, Church of, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a><br /> +<br /> +Sagan, Princesse de, <a href="#Page_84">84</a><br /> +<br /> +St. Giorgio, Signor, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a><br /> +<br /> +St. Paul's School, <a href="#Page_42">42</a><br /> +<br /> +Salieri, Antonio, <a href="#Page_170">170</a><br /> +<br /> +Salome, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span><br /> +Saltus, Edgar, <a href="#Page_37">37</a> <i>et seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a><br /> +<br /> +Saltus, Francis, <a href="#Page_42">42</a><br /> +<br /> +Sanborn, Pitts, <a href="#Page_118">118</a><br /> +<br /> +Sand, George, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a><br /> +<br /> +Sanderson, Julia, <a href="#Page_217">217</a><br /> +<br /> +Santley, Charles, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a><br /> +<br /> +Sappho, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Sardou, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a><br /> +<br /> +Satan, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a><br /> +<br /> +Satie, Erik, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a><br /> +<br /> +Saturday Review, The, <a href="#Page_18">18</a><br /> +<br /> +Savoyarde, restaurant, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a><br /> +<br /> +Scharwenka, Xaver, <a href="#Page_155">155</a><br /> +<br /> +Scheherazade, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Schillings, Max, <a href="#Page_150">150</a><br /> +<br /> +Schoenberg, Arnold, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a><br /> +<br /> +Schopenhauer, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a><br /> +<br /> +Schroeder, Edwin Albert, <a href="#Page_71">71</a><br /> +<br /> +Schroeder-Devrient, Wilhelmine, <a href="#Page_99">99</a><br /> +<br /> +Schubert, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>, <a href="#Page_310">310</a><br /> +<br /> +Schumann, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a><br /> +<br /> +Scott, Cyril, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a><br /> +<br /> +Scotti, Antonio, <a href="#Page_107">107</a><br /> +<br /> +Scriptores Historiæ Augustæ, <a href="#Page_70">70</a><br /> +<br /> +Seidl, Anton, <a href="#Page_155">155</a><br /> +<br /> +Sembrich, Marcella, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Senesino, <a href="#Page_95">95</a><br /> +<br /> +Shakespeare, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Sharp, Cecil J., <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a><br /> +<br /> +Shaw, George Bernard, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a><br /> +<br /> +Shepherd, Arthur, <a href="#Page_200">200</a><br /> +<br /> +Sherwin, Louis, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_291">291</a>, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>, <a href="#Page_295">295</a><br /> +<br /> +Shield, William, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a><br /> +<br /> +Siddons, Mrs., <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a><br /> +<br /> +Simonds, W. E., <a href="#Page_38">38</a><br /> +<br /> +Singing, <a href="#Page_93">93</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Smith, Harry B., <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Snob, <a href="#Page_50">50</a><br /> +<br /> +Socrates, <a href="#Page_117">117</a><br /> +<br /> +Solomon, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Sonata form, <a href="#Page_33">33</a><br /> +<br /> +Sontag, Henrietta, <a href="#Page_246">246</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Sophocles, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a><br /> +<br /> +Sorbonne, <a href="#Page_43">43</a><br /> +<br /> +Sousa, John Philip, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a><br /> +<br /> +Southeim, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> +<br /> +Spain, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Spiritualism, <a href="#Page_43">43</a><br /> +<br /> +Spohr, Louis, <a href="#Page_24">24</a><br /> +<br /> +Stanislavski, <a href="#Page_283">283</a><br /> +<br /> +Stanton, Theodore, <a href="#Page_38">38</a><br /> +<br /> +Starr, Hattie, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +Starr, Muriel, <a href="#Page_253">253</a><br /> +<br /> +Steger, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> +<br /> +Stein, Gertrude, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a><br /> +<br /> +Steinlen, <a href="#Page_139">139</a><br /> +<br /> +Steinway, William, <a href="#Page_154">154</a><br /> +<br /> +Stevenson, R. L., <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a><br /> +<br /> +Stigelli, <a href="#Page_166">166</a><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span><br /> +Stillman-Kelley, Edgar, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +Straus, Oskar, <a href="#Page_216">216</a><br /> +<br /> +Strauss, Johann, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a><br /> +<br /> +Strauss, Richard, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_330">330</a><br /> +<br /> +Stravinsky, Igor, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a><br /> +<br /> +Stuck, Franz von, <a href="#Page_89">89</a><br /> +<br /> +Style in Singing, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>, <a href="#Page_276">276</a><br /> +<br /> +Style in Writing, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a><br /> +<br /> +Suetonius, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a><br /> +<br /> +Sullivan, Sir Arthur, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a><br /> +<br /> +Swinburne, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a><br /> +<br /> +Symonds, J. A., <a href="#Page_72">72</a><br /> +<br /> +Symons, Arthur, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a><br /> +<br /> +Synge, J. M., <a href="#Page_103">103</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Tacitus, <a href="#Page_72">72</a><br /> +<br /> +Taggart, Lucy L., <a href="#Page_209">209</a><br /> +<br /> +Tamagno, Francesco, <a href="#Page_120">120</a><br /> +<br /> +Tasso, <a href="#Page_62">62</a><br /> +<br /> +Taste, <a href="#Page_11">11</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Tchekhov, <a href="#Page_303">303</a><br /> +<br /> +Tempest, Marie, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a><br /> +<br /> +Temps, Le, <a href="#Page_18">18</a><br /> +<br /> +Terence, <a href="#Page_302">302</a><br /> +<br /> +Terry, Ellen, <a href="#Page_301">301</a><br /> +<br /> +Tetrazzini, Luisa, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a><br /> +<br /> +Thèbes, Mme. de, <a href="#Page_79">79</a><br /> +<br /> +Thomas, Ambroise, <a href="#Page_173">173</a><br /> +<br /> +Thomas, Augustus, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_295">295</a><br /> +<br /> +Thomas, Olive, <a href="#Page_223">223</a><br /> +<br /> +Thomas, Theodore, <a href="#Page_155">155</a><br /> +<br /> +Tiberius, <a href="#Page_69">69</a><br /> +<br /> +Tichatschek, Joseph Aloys, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> +<br /> +Tilzer, Harry von, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +Tinney, Frank, <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Tissot, <a href="#Page_67">67</a><br /> +<br /> +Toscanini, Arturo, <a href="#Page_156">156</a><br /> +<br /> +Tradition, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281</a><br /> +<br /> +Troubetskoy, Prince, <a href="#Page_157">157</a><br /> +<br /> +Tschaikovsky, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a><br /> +<br /> +Turgeniev, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a><br /> +<br /> +Twain, Mark, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>, <a href="#Page_265">265</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Urban, Joseph, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Vagaries of genius, <a href="#Page_55">55</a><br /> +<br /> +Vallière, Louise, de la, <a href="#Page_13">13</a><br /> +<br /> +Valverde, Joaquín, <a href="#Page_284">284</a> <i>et seq.</i><br /> +<br /> +Vaughn, Theresa, <a href="#Page_219">219</a><br /> +<br /> +Verelst, Myndart, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a><br /> +<br /> +Veiller, Bayard, <a href="#Page_68">68</a><br /> +<br /> +Velasquez, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a><br /> +<br /> +Verdi, Giuseppe, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a><br /> +<br /> +Verlaine, Paul, <a href="#Page_43">43</a><br /> +<br /> +Veronese, <a href="#Page_16">16</a><br /> +<br /> +Versatility in acting, <a href="#Page_300">300</a><br /> +<br /> +Vespasian, <a href="#Page_69">69</a><br /> +<br /> +Viafora, <a href="#Page_157">157</a><br /> +<br /> +Viardot, Pauline, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a><br /> +<br /> +Victory of Samothrace, The, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span><br /> +Vinci, Leonardo da, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Wachtel, Theodor, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> +<br /> +Wagner, Richard, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a><br /> +<br /> +Walter, Eugene, <a href="#Page_68">68</a><br /> +<br /> +Walter, Gustav, <a href="#Page_164">164</a><br /> +<br /> +Warfield, David, <a href="#Page_295">295</a><br /> +<br /> +Wayburn, Ned, <a href="#Page_281">281</a><br /> +<br /> +Weber, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a><br /> +<br /> +Webster, <a href="#Page_51">51</a><br /> +<br /> +Weckerlin, J. B., <a href="#Page_169">169</a><br /> +<br /> +Weichsell, Carl, <a href="#Page_172">172</a><br /> +<br /> +Weichsell, Charles, <a href="#Page_172">172</a><br /> +<br /> +Weidley, David, <a href="#Page_210">210</a><br /> +<br /> +Wendell, Barrett, <a href="#Page_38">38</a><br /> +<br /> +Westminster Magazine, <a href="#Page_39">39</a><br /> +<br /> +Whitmer, T. Carl, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><br /> +<br /> +Wilde, Oscar, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a><br /> +<br /> +Winter, William, <a href="#Page_320">320</a>, <a href="#Page_324">324</a><br /> +<br /> +Wodehouse, P. G., <a href="#Page_222">222</a><br /> +<br /> +Women, Saltus's opinion of, <a href="#Page_73">73</a><br /> +<br /> +Wüllner, Ludwig, <a href="#Page_246">246</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Yeats, W. B., <a href="#Page_192">192</a><br /> +<br /> +Yohe, May, <a href="#Page_219">219</a><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Zandonai, Riccardo, <a href="#Page_329">329</a><br /> +<br /> +Zeus, <a href="#Page_82">82</a><br /> +<br /> +Ziegfeld, Florenz, <a href="#Page_283">283</a><br /> +<br /> +Zuloaga, <a href="#Page_290">290</a><br /> +</p> + + + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + +<h3>Transcriber's Notes</h3> + +<p>Variations in spelling, hyphenation, and punctuation have been retained +from the original book except for the following changes:</p> + +<p><a href="#Contents">Table of Contents</a>: Added listings for Footnotes and Index.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_189">189</a>: Changed "their's" to "theirs".</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_227">227</a>: Added "Young" to the chapter title, "Two Young American +Playwrights," to match the Table of Contents and section title.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_259">259</a>: Changed "Eightenth Century" to "Eighteenth Century".</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_303">303</a>: "Mrs. Siddone" might be a typo for "Mrs. Siddons". Retained.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_320">320</a>: Capitalized "It" in "As You Like It" for consistency.</p> + + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_331">331</a>: (Index) Changed "Aeschylus" to "Æschylus" to match text.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_332">332</a>: (Index) The reference for Bergström, Hjalmar, 90 was not found +anywhere in the original book, and page 90 was a blank page.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_332">332</a>: (Index) Changed page ref. 122 to 222 for Bernhardt, Sarah.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_332">332</a>: (Index) Changed "Caesar, Julius," to "Cæsar, Julius," to +match text.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_338">338</a>: (Index) Changed page ref. 176 to 76 for Michelet.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_339">339</a>: (Index) Changed "Péladin, Josephin" to "Péladan, Josephin" to +match text.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_341">341</a>: (Index) Changed "Scriptores Historiae Augustae" to +"Scriptores Historiæ Augustæ" to match text.</p> + + + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Merry-Go-Round, by Carl Van Vechten + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MERRY-GO-ROUND *** + +***** This file should be named 26320-h.htm or 26320-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/3/2/26320/ + +Produced by Bryan Ness, Diane Monico, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced +from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print +project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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