enters practically nearly every field that the painter treads, barring that of color, will come as something of a revelation. Yet such is the case: portrait work, genre-studies, landscapes, and marines, these and a thousand other subjects occupy his attention. Every phase of light and atmosphere is studied from its artistic point of view, and as a result we have the beautiful night pictures, actually taken at the time depicted, storm scenes, approaching storms, marvellous sunset-skies, all of which are already familiar to magazine readers. This is

the real photography, the photography of to-day; and that which the world is accustomed to regard as pictorial photography is not the real photography, but an ignorant imposition."

A CRITIC ON MODERN STAGE WOMEN.

Charles Frederic Nirdlinger, who has been called "the most admired and most hated dramatic critic in America," has just brought out a book on the drama entitled "Masques and Mummers." It consists of a series of essays on various phases of dramatic criticism very trenchantly written. The trend of the modern stage to portray the woman with a past" as the type of her sex, he scores in a brilliant chapter under the heading: “The White Sow in the Theatre "--a suggestion, of course, from the tenth book of the Odyssey. He says in part:

66

"Men can't understand such a woman as Zaza' how often one has heard that! And the same of Magda, Paula Tanqueray, Mrs. Ebbsmith, Claudine Rozay, Césarine, Emma Scarli and the rest of the favorites in the scenic seraglio, whose torrid loveaffairs the playwrights have sought to cool into a comfortable halo. After every fresh exploitation of one or another of these glorified hetairæ, the woman's page' of newspaper and magazine gushes psychology in explanation of what is lucidly explained only by pathology. These are women's women,' is the burden of the cry, when in point of fact they are distinctly men's women. Their place in the comic tragedies that their spangled careers inspire proves that beyond question. The pretence that these shapely and well-kept animals into whom the spirit of Circe has breathed the temper of the White Sow reflect the feelings and sentiment of womankind, is simply a monstrous impertinence, It may hold good for a certain class of muliebrity. The expert wits that fashion these dramas of sexual turmoil undoubtedly select typical characteristics to illuminate their heroines. But that these abnormal figures sign the generality of femininity is a silly presumption. Granting that men cannot understand such a woman as Zaza, for instancethough as a matter of fact she is a very easy

proposition one may go further and add that neither is she understood of women; that is, women of the blessed average.

"Such a creature as Zaza, I maintain, is an utter mystery to the average woman of every-day life and a nauseous disgust as well. Women, in the vast, uncountable majority, can have no comprehension of the thoughts, emotions or behavior of a being that abandons itself to every and any freak of sensuality, because women in the vast, uncountable majority are pure and innocent, as clean in thought naturally as they are clean in speech customarily. Cynicismand followers of erotic literature on stage and bookstall-may jeer at this apparently sophomoric utterance, but its reason will transpire to all men who do not limit feminine companionship to convenient facility. The average woman is even ignorant or, at most, vaguely suspicious, of the viciousness that comes into masculine existence as a matter of course. The teachings of chance or instinct, if such insinuate themselves into her consciousness, she keeps secret even from herself. Whence, then, could come the sympathy with the frank lust and carnal jealousies that the stage pretends to illustrate the sex? It is impossible in nature and in the basilar conditions of society that women of normal make-up, threading decent love, should regard the morbid frenzies, the sickening restiveness of a Zaza, a Tanqueray, a Blanche de Chelles, or the like with any sentiment but that of revulsion. When the heroines of some recent sensational successes' actually reflect the soul and heart of the women that a loose public opinion and the complacency or doltishness of criticism lead to the scene of their exposure, the second Deluge will not be far off."

NEGLECT OF THE ARTISTIC FACULTY IN CHILDREN.

One of the gravest defects of the American public school educational system, from the standpoint of the man of general culture, is the neglect of the artistic faculty. It is not difficult to cultivate this faculty, when once the instinct for art is aroused, and the benefit is great. As James MacArthur puts it in The Outlook:

"The instinct for art once aroused, the rest depends on development and cultivation. From instinct to education is a long step, from education to culture a longer one, and from culture to art a far stride indeed. Little wonder that some find a shorter cut, and few pursue the journey long unweariedly and undaunted to achievement. For just as a precocity for drawing and painting oftentimes dies out with youth, and even those early experiments refuse to be repeated in mature years for lack of training and intelligent exercise of the once latent artistic gift, so the first delights of appre

ciative regard for the picturesque and beautiful fade from sensibility because of neglect and the want of proper education. Some persons never get above the level of the Penny Illustrated Paper.' In art as in nature, to these persons a primrose is a yellow primrose and nothing more. The special care of the artistic faculty, in training it to appreciate and appraise the values of true art even in illustrations, has been unduly neglected in our public schools."

THE CURATIVE VALUE OF THE FINE ARTS.

The value of the fine arts in mental therapeutics is discussed by Julia Osgood, in Mind. Speaking of the influence of art upon the child-mind, Miss Osgood says:

A

"A mother cannot begin too early to familiarize her child with reproductions of great art. The earlier impressions made in childhood are not only of superior strength and clearness, but carry with them a halo of sweet association that gives them in later life an actually sacred quality. Let the masterpieces of painting and sculpture be introduced to the child, one after another, at suitable intervals, so that the successive imprints may each remain clear in memory; for undue haste weakens and even obliterates impressions already produced. mother of moderate intelligence can readily present each picture in a slight frame of narrative that will meet the child's demand for a story,' and at the same time draw him into a personal and friendly relation with the artist; or a few lines of noble interpretative poetry may be associated with a given picture, strengthening its power over the little mind, thus led to dwell upon its import with added interest and earnestness. A memory thus equipped has untold wealth with which to enrich the hours of loneliness, waiting, and temptation that sooner or later creep into most lives.

66

'If this storing of the memory with beautiful scenes from the world of art were overlooked in childhood, it can with profit be begun at any period of life, and will not only give new joy to the most keen and wholesome existence, but will be of special value to those suffering from maladies of mind or body. The visions of a Michelangelo or a Dürer would be a tonic to any mind habitually harboring them. The wise physician might well call to his aid the teacher who, through art and its history as a medium, is capable of interesting a weary patient, of faint courage and relaxed moral fiber, in the sane and virile art of a Millet; or one who could carry to the bedside of a stricken worldling the chaste and serene interpretation of life and its meaning bequeathed to us by the yet unmeasured genius of a Puvis de Chavannes."

THE ORATORY OF SENATOR PRESTON.

Colonel William Campbell Preston, Senator from South Carolina, was known, in

his day, as one of the greatest orators of the country. A vivid description of his personality and appearance when speaking is given by a writer in the November number of The Green Bag.

"Mr. Preston had a commanding form, His face was large and long to an extent out of proportion even to his big body. He had heavy gray eyebrows and his eyes were very large, blue and somewhat prominent. When they blazed up under excitement, they fascinated, and took possession of you, and transfigured the whole face. One moment, you saw a big, sleepy-looking face, and the next, you stood awed and fascinated before a human countenance, wonderfully manly, noble, and expressive. in his every movement. Crippled as he was, There was grace, and dignity, and propriety sometimes, on a fine afternoon, he would walk with Mrs. Preston down the campus, and then back again. It appeared to me that every student followed the couple with his eyes, from the time they came out of their gate, till they re-entered it. I never heard him make a speech but it was my good fortune once see and hear him, as he must have appeared in his prime, when making a great speech. He taught my class elocution. Usually it was rather a farce. His recitation room was in the second story. We helped him up the steps, and to his chair. He would sit bending over his table, with the class book before him, and his crutches leaning against the wall. He would call in order the students, who had been required to select, memorize, and speak passages, either prose or poetry. As you finished, the old man would lift his head, and say, 'Very good, Mr. -' and then call on another, and so on to the end, without a word of comment or criticism. Once, however, one of the class spoke in a very dudish way Burns' Highland Mary':

Ye banks and braes and streams around
The castle of Montgomery-

to

When he had finished, Mr. Preston sat silent for a few moments, and then raising his face, he surprised the class by saying: 'I do not know that I can do it, but I am going to make an effort to show you how I think those fine lines should be spoken.' Helping himself by the table, he stood up, placed his crutches beneath his shoulders, and taking us all in with his eyes, I heard a low and tender voice speak slowly and distinctly the first two lines. Then all at once the aged and bowed body lifted itself erect, and stood straight and strong; the crutches fell on either side, and there stood before us a majestic, Apollo-like form, with great luminous eyes, and an all-irradiated face. I lost the power of conscious hearing and seeing, and I have never been able to recall anything else, until Mr. Preston fell panting into his chair; and finding myself with my classmates, leaning far forward, nearly out of our chairs, I caught my

breath, and regained my seat. As soon as the old man had recovered from his exhaustion, a few of us went forward, and with awe and tenderness, helped him downstairs, and to his house. We knew then that he had been one of the great orators of the world."

SCHUMANNIANA.

The December number of The Etude is largely devoted to a consideration of the life, personality and works of Robert Schumann. W. J. Henderson advises all musical students to study the "Life of Schumann." There is no music that requires so full an understanding of the life and thought of the composer," Mr. Henderson declares, as that of Schumann. His compositions are almost a diary in tones." Alfred Veil considers Schumann as a piano composer; Frederick S. Law gives a biographical sketch, and the composer's piano works are considered by W. S. B. Mathews. thus:

Speaking from the standpoint of the pianoforte, the peculiarities of the Schumann piano music call for a deep, full, musical touch, and an incessant use of the pedal; and there are in the whole list of his piano works only a very few pieces where the pedal can be entirely dispensed with. More often, indeed, the pedal is an integral part of the tone-producing apparatus; as, for instance, in the wide chords of the Fourth Nocturne,' or the middle movement of the 'Fantaisie,' and practically everywhere in the variations of the Symphonic Etude.' Not less important is the pedal in many of his smaller pieces, such as the Entrance to the Forest,' the Wayside Inn,' the Prophetic Bird,' or the little pieces of the Kinderscenen,' and the Papillons.'

66

The "autobiographic" character of the composer's music is considered by Louis C. Elson, while W. F. Gates writes an article entitled Side Lights on Schumann." Henry T. Finck contributes a study of the songs of the great romantic composer, that will show that the best of them, according to Mr. Finck, gave the pianoforte an importance equal to that of the voice." Schumann's style has been pronounced “unvocal," because of its difficulty, but Mr. Finck defends him in this respect, declaring "he had a right to consider the realistic expression of emotion of greater importance than the singer's convenience or indolence." "The Technical Demands of Schumann's Music," by Emil Liebling, and Schumann -the Man," by Frederic Dean, appear in the same number of this magazine.

THE INSPIRATION OF THE MESSIAH." Handel's great oratorio, by general consent placed first among productions of its kind, was inspired under circumstances which tried the soul of the composer. Speaking of its origin, Dr. Newell Dwight Hillis says (in The Woman's Home Companion for January):

"To Handel there came an hour when in his chamber he wrestled with the death angel. There at last he unclasped his arms and let the winged spirit fly. When the Christmas-time came and his burdens seemed greater than he could bear, Handel sought comfort through his organ. In an exalted mood a certain noble strain of music swept over his heart and thought, and found expression in the tones of his instrument. The morning found the artist still at his organ, but comfort had come to his wounded heart. In that hour the great musician was conscious of the wish that the strain of music that had comforted him might sween over every broken heart at the Christmastime. So the mental mood that had been his was copied into that subtle tone-speech called music, and now the Messiah' makes permanent for all mankind what was at first only a mental mood, given by God to Handel."

BRIEF MENTION.

THE PRIMEVAL LANGUAGE. Charles Johnson, The Contemporary Review, November.

Mr. Johnson philosophizes over the language of our remote ancestors. He concludes that" the original speech, the true primeval tongue of man, was quite unlike any language we have ever heard; yet we have all talked it, and all its elements are present in the tongues of to-day. The primeval language was a vowel language altogether; it had no consonants, or contacts. as we ought to call them, at all. Its words consisted of vowel sounds following each other, repeated or varied-of words like aeaea, aoao, aia, auau, aeoia, iaua, oioi, ouou, uaua, ueue, all of which, I may say in passing, are taken from a language in use to-day. The sentences were intermittent streams of vowels, each stream held on so long as the speaker's breath allowed or whim dictated."

The primeval language, he says, is spoken to-day by every child in its first attempts at speech.

LEGATO. Everett E. Truette. The Etude, December.

It is safe to assert, declares Mr. Truette, that, "of all the people who play the organ,

at least three-fifths pay no attention at all to the legato,—if they happen to play legato, it is by accident rather than by design,while of the other two-fifths, one-fifth make a judicious use of the legato, and the other fifth overdo the matter."

And yet, he concludes, after a series of general suggestions, "it is patent to any organist who is at all well versed in his art that the foundation of organ technic-the sine qua non of good organ playing—is the legato.... A competent organist tempers his playing with a judicious amount of the legato, never forgetting it when it is needed, but always mindful of the demands of clearness and phrasing which compel its partial absence at certain points, and entire absence in certain phrases."

HINTS ON VOICE AND CHOIR TRAINING. John Adsock. Nonconformist Musical Journal, December.

A description of varying methods with the following bit of advice on gesture in conducting:

"No two men conduct alike; each is himself. All agree, however, that the action must not be in the arm alone, nor in the wrist alone, but in the two combined. The chief requirements are a flexible wrist and a loose arm; a firm, clear beat, without either angularity, stiffness, or superfluous flourish; the absence of grimace or bodily contortion; and the avoidance of all fussiness and self-display. The perfection of conducting is to achieve the greatest result with the least visible effort. All the action of beating time should be in the right arm, the left hand being sparingly used for signals of expression. The body should take no part in the beating, and the knees should be kept straight; nothing is more ugly than the repeated bending and straightening of the knees. It is a good general rule to beat the time, not the music'; the main pulsations, not the varying subdivisions."

A PLAY-GOER'S PROTEST. Eveline C. Godley. National Review, November.

The protest is against the modern actor's "bad habit" of relying on the stage scenery to cover up defects in the acting.

"A player who obtains his dramatic effects by means of scenery and dresses is between the horns of a dilemma. If he does not feel the inadequacy of the 'spectacular method-especially when applied to the classic drama-he is unworthy of serious consideration as an actor; if he feels it, and yet persists in his evil courses, he breaks faith with his audience and reduces himself to the level of a charlatan."

COLERIDGE'S LEGACY TO LITERATURE. "Sister M. Borgia, Ursuline." The Rosary Magazine, December.

"The subtly woven words, with all their sky colors, seem to grow out of the thought or emotion, as the flower from the stalk, or the flame from its feeding oil. The music of his verse is as sweet and characteristic as anything in the language, placing him, for that rare excellence, in the same small band with Shakespeare and Beaumont and Fletcher, in their lyrics, with Milton and Collins and Shelley and Tennyson."

MY STRUGGLES TO SUCCEED. Olga Nethersole. Cosmopolitan, December. The most interesting portion of this paper is the following paragraph:

"I would have the state in each country establish a college for the training of actors. and no one should be allowed to appear in public without his diploma any more than a lawyer or doctor is allowed to practice medicine or law without one. We find it flourishing in France, we find it flourishing in Germany-then why not in America and England?

METHODS OF PHYSICAL CULTURE OF PROMINENT PLAYERS. George Ruskin Phoebus, Physical Culture, December.

In this article we are told that Wilton Lackaye preserves his good health and form by early rising and early retiring, by cold baths and dumb bells. Maurice Barrymore walks and boxes; John Drew walks, fences and swings Indian clubs; Julia Arthur fences and swings clubs; and Elsie De Wolf walks and trains in a gymnasium.

THE ENGLISH DRAMA, 1889-1899. J. P. White. Harvard Monthly, November.

A rapid survey of the history of the English stage, closing with the reflection: "Modern English drama was first a meaningless nothing, then a crude melodrama, now it is once more in the highest sense a branch of literature."

MUSCULAR HEROINES OF GREAT AUTHORS. Editorial Physical Culture, December.

Charles Reid, Whyte-Merville, Frances Hodgson Burnett, and Oliver Wendell Holmes are the authors referred to, and passages are quoted from their novels to show their ideas of strong, healthy womanhood.

INFLUENCE OF MUSCLE ON MENTAL POWER. Harry Nelson Jennings, Physical Culture, December.

ART IN SCHOOLS. Anna von Rydingsvard, Journal of Education.

THE EDUCATION OF MUSICIANS. C. Fred. Kenyon, The Etude, December.

THE GROWTH OF AN ART (Ancient Music). Arthur L. Manchester, The Musician, December. MEMORIZING MUSIC. Frederick G. Shinn, The Musician, December.

ART IN AMERICA.

December.

H. B. Fuller, Bookman,

BRITISH DECORATIVE ART IN 1899. A. Vallance, International Studio, December.

THE ART OF ILLUMINATION. G. C. Teall, Brush and Pencil, November.

PAINTING IN WATER COLORS. K. Jarvis, Art Amateur, November.

WOMEN IN THE ART CRAFTS. Katherine L. Smith, Brush and Pencil, November.

How THE WORLD DANCES. Laura R. Starr, Cosmopolitan, December.

UNWRITTEN LITERARY LAWS. Quida, Fortnightly Review, November.

THE PATHOS OF PLAYWRITING. Henry Campbell, Dramatic Mirror,

THE DIFFERENT STYLES OF SPEAKERS. H. M. D., Family Doctor.

HINTS TO THE TEACHER OF READING. School Journal.

A STUDY ON PHRASING. James M. Tracy, The Месса.

THE BUILDING ON MUSIC IN THE KINDERGARTEN IDEA. Nina K. Darlington, New England Conservatory Magazine.

ARTS AND HANDICRAFTS IN EDUCATION. Charles G. Leland, Home Journal.

MODERN EDUCATION FROM THE STANDPOINT OF THE STUDENT. Ethel Osgood Mason, Modern Education, December.

SCIENCE AND THE ART OF LANGUAGE. E. S. Lovejoy. An Essay.

THE MYSTERY OF BEAUTY. Edgar Saltus, Cosmopolitan, December.

THE LEGEND OF ST. CECILIA. Katherine Louise Smith, Music, December.

How ONE CITY TRAINS MUSIC-LOVERS. Mary L. Regal, Music, December.

CESAR CUI ON THE DECAY OF MUSIC. Translated from the Russian by Leo Haendelmann, Music, December.

THE OPERATIC CRISIS IN ITALY. Luigi Torchi, Musical Record.

A NEW CHAPTER ON EARS (for Music). Francis E. Regal, Musical Record.

THE ETHICS OF REALISM. Rev. Thomas J. Hagerty, Catholic World, December.

THE ART OF FRITZ VON UHDE. Charles de Kay, Critic, December.

THE BEAUTY OF MEN. Mary Wager-Fisher, Woman's Home Companion, December.

ROMANTICISM IN MUSIC. Professor Niecks, Musical Times, December.

HINTS TO ORGAN STUdents. May' Hamilton, The Etude, December.

THE VALUE OF IMAGINATION. Francis C. Robinson, The Musician, December.

RUSSIAN MUSIC AND MUSICIANS. Jaroslav de Zielinski, The Musician, December.

IDEALISM AND REALISM IN ART. Rev. M. Cronin, Irish Ecclesiastical Record, October JOAN OF ARC IN ART. Magazine of Art, November.

ROSA BONHEUR: HER LIFE AND WORK. C. J. Hamilton, Womanhood, November.