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INDEX OF

Current Literature

Edited by EDWARD J. WHEELER

VOL. XLII
JANUARY-JUNE, 1907

NEW YORK

THE CURRENT LITERATURE PUBLISHING COMPANY

41 WEST 25TH STREET

CURRENT LITERATURE— INDEX TO VOL. XLII

INDEX OF SUBJECTS

Abbott, Lyman, D.D., LL.D.,
on Happiness 528

Abdul Hamid, Sultan of Tur-
key, sketch of 30

Abruzzi, Duke of, sketched . . . 558

Actors' compen,'sations and
hardships 188

Alcohol defended 449

Aldrich, Thomas Bailey, esti-
mates of 624

Alexander, John W., his labor
panels in the Carnegie Insti-
tute 639

Alexandra, Queen of England,
notes on 509

Alexinsky, the Duma revolu-
tionist 610

Allen, William H., on Good-
ness and Efficiency 80

American affairs from foreign
standpoints 612

Anarchy, as expounded by Max
Stirner 535

"Ariane" sung in Paris 187

Athletics, the moral value of.. 89

Bacteria, pleasures and pains of 217
Baldness and chest breathing. . . 453
Balzac's eye-strain from a

scientific standpoint 662

Barres, Maurice, estimate of.. 401
Baudelaire, Charles, estimate of 515
Bebel, German Socialist leader,

plans of 32

Bees and Blue Flowers 336

Belasco, David, creating dra-
matic stars 434

Benson, Arthur C, on sermons,
83; his work, "The Gate of

Death" 196

Berthelot, Marcelin, death and

estimate of 500

Besnard, Albert, as a painter.. 64
Bible, the. Prof. J. H. Gardi-
ner on, 81; Pious frauds in,
415; as fascinating literature 422
Biblical criticism applied to

Paul 540

Biogenesis, Haeckel's law of. . 96
Biology — identity of plant and

animal tissue 665

Birrell, Augustine, and Irish

Home Rule, 380; sketch of, 393

Blake, William, the genius of 169

Bloodthirstiness in children... 98

Bond, Sir Robert, enmity of,

to the United States 616

Books Noticed and Reylewed.

America, the Future in — H.
G. Wells 78, 404

American Scene, The — Henry
James 634

Baudelaire, Charles — Arthur
Holitscher, 515; Poems of.
Tr. by F. P. Sturm; Let-
ters of — Mecure de
France; Poems in Prose
by. Tr. by Arthur Sy-
nions 516

Before Adam — ^Jack London. 576

Beloved Vagabond, The —
William J. Locke 461

Beside the New-Made Grave
— F. H. Turner 657

Bible, The, as English Liter-
ature— J. H. Gardiner 81

Biographic Clinics, Vol. IV.
r-George M. Gould, M.D,. 563

Books Noticed and Reviewed — Cont.

Blake, William — Algernon
Swinburne, Life of — Alex-
ander Gilchrist 169

Christian Science — Mark
Twain 321

College and the Man — David
Starr Jordan 646

Creed, The, of a Layman —
Frederic Harrison 647

Disenchanted, The 109

Dramatic Opinions — Bernard
Shaw 71

Ego, The, and His Own —
Max Stirner 535

Electrons — Sir Oliver Lodge 563

Emerson, Ralph Waldo —
George Edward Woodberry 288

Enthusiasms, Life's — David
Starr Jordan 90

Far Horizon, The — Lucas
Malet 343

Fire of the Heart, In the —
Ralph Waldo Trine 628

Freedom in the Church —
Alexander V. G. Allen 533

Friday the Thirteenth —
Thomas W. Lawson 575

Gate, The, of Death 196

Haeckel: His Life and Work
— William Bolsche 96

Happiness, Christ's Secret
of — Lyman Abbott ; The
Way to — Thomas R. Slicer;
The Economy of — James
Mackaye 628

Ha\ythorne, Nathaniel : The
Life and Genius of — Frank
Preston Stearns 617

Hearn, Lafcadio: The Life
and Letters of — Elizabeth
Bisland 49

Heart. The, That Knows—
Charles G. D. Roberts 110

Home Life, The, in Order —
Alfred T. Schofield 684

Humaniculture — Hubert Hig-
gins 326

Human Nature, A Souvenir
of 329

Ibsen, Samliv Med John Paul-
sen 300

Infective Diseases, Immunity
in — Elie Metchnikofl 332

Inventors at Work — George
lies 94

Italian Court Life, Glimpses
of — Tryphosa Bates Batch-
eller 164

Jane Cable — George Barr
McCutcheon 459

Lady, A, of Rome — Marion
Crawford 228

Life's Enthusiasms — D avid
Starr Jordan 90

Light of the Soul, By the —

Mary E. Wilkins 460

Little White Bird, The— J.

M. Barrie 561

Longfellow, Henry Wads-
worth — Charles Eliot Nor-
ton 285

Madam de Treymes — Edith

Wharton 693

Man, The Kingdom of — E.

Ray Lancaster 565

Masculine, The, in Religion

— Carl Delos Case, Ph.D.. 420
Maupassant, Guy de — Works
of M. Walter Dunne; La
Vie et I'Oeuvre de — Ed-

ouard Maynial 636

Memoirs of My Dead Life —
George Moore , . , . , 898

Books Noticed and Reviewed — Cont.
Mistral, Frederic — Memoirs,

etc 526

Nature's Craftsmen — Henry

Christopher McCook 566

Organisms, Behavior of the

Lower — H. S. Jennings... 217
Orient, The Spirit of the —

George William Knox 314

Paris, Twenty Years in —

Robert Harborough Sheard 636
Pater, Walter, Life of —

Thomas Wright 644

Paul— E. F. Benson 345

Peace, Newer Ideals of —

Jane Addams 417

Peter Pan in Kensington

Gardens — J. M. Barrie.... 551
Prisoners — M a r y Cholmon-

delejr 110

Puccini, Giacomo — Wakeling

Dry 649

Religious Belief, The Psy-
chology of — James Bissett

Pratt, Ph.D 418

Rezanov — Gertrude Atherton. 229
Richard the Brazen — Cyrus

Townsend Brady 231

Rousseau, Jean Jacques—

Frederika Macdonald .... 176
Second Generation, T h e —

Graham Phillips 458

Sex and Society — William I.

Thomas 445

Shakespeare, Tolstoy on 46

Sir Nigel— A. Conan Doyle. 228
Sophy of Kravonia — Anthony

Hope 230

Spencer, Herbert — ^J. Arthur

Thomson 103

Stephen, Leslie, The Life

and Letters of — Frederic

William Maitland 642

Studies in Seven Arts — Ar-
thur Symons 297

Thinking, Right and Wrong

— Aaron Martin Crane 569

Tropical Light, Effects of,

on White Men — Major

Charles E. Woodruff 442

Turn, The, of the Balance —

Brand Whitlock 692

Vance, Joseph — William de

Morgan 344

Wallace, Lew: Autobiography 178
Whirlwind, The— Eden Phill-

potts 694

Whistler, James 'McNeill,

Works of — Elisabeth Luth-
er Cary 289

White Fang — Jack London . . Ill
Wise Men of the East, My

Pilgrimage to — Moncure D.

Conway 202

World Machine, The — Carl

Snyder 560

Boston culture according to

H. G. Wells 404

Botha, Louis, made Prime

Miniister of the Transvaal,

383; welcomed in England. 497
Brain, the, behavior of when

pierced 220

Bnand's, Aristide, attitude

toward religion 160

Brownsville, Texas, shooting

affair 10, 132

Brunetiere's, Ferdinand, theory

of literary criticism 166

Bryce, James, sketch of 156

Bulow, Princ? Yon, sketQb of, 873

CURRENT LITERATURE— INDEX TO VOL. XLII

Campbell, J. R., and the New
Theology 411

Canada, Secretary Root's visit,
etc., discussed 254

Canterbury, Archbishop of, and
the education controversy in
England 140

Carducci, Giosue, estimate of. 402

Carnegie, Andrew, sketch of at
seventy, 501; institute at
Pittsburg rededicated, 485;
labor panels in the institute 639

Catholic gains in German
election 262

Character indicated by lower
jaw 333

Chicago's election 480

Child-labor bill fails in Con-
gress discussion 370

Christianity, substitutes for. . . . 325

Christian Science, Mark Twain
on, 321; under fire, 368; in
its beginnings 650

Church losses and gains, 3:10;
freedom of thought in the.. 533

Clemens, S. L. (Mark Twain)
on the decay of State Rights 129

College influence, according to
David Starr Jordan 646

Combes, Emile, as an atheist . . 150

Complexion and race survival. 448

Congo Free State, Leopold's
attitude toward Great Britain,
29 ; outrages in 30

Congress Adjourns; its accom-
plishments 359

Conrad, Joseph, estimate of. . . 58

Conspiracy, rich men's, charged
by Roosevelt 474

Conway, Moncure D., on India 202

Courts, American, according to
the foreign press 613

Crapsey, Algernon C-, D.D.,
comment on the conviction of 84

Criminology from a new point
of view 208

Criticism, literary, Brunetiere's
theory of 166

Cromer, Lord, retires from
Egypt 496

D'Annunzio's new play 70

Debs, Eugene, on the Moyer-

Haywood case 594

Dernburg, Herr Bernhard's in-
fluence in German politics.. 264
Design in the Kosmos denied. 561
Don Caesar's Adventure, by

Victor Hugo 848

Don Quixote, Turgenieff on... 290
Dowieism, its rise and fall.... 206
Drama, notable plays of the
month, 60, 183; poetic, in
America, 298; stars of, how

Belasco makes them 434

"Dream-Knight, the," by Maar-

ten Maartens 695

Duma, elections for, discussed 266
Durand, Sir Mortimer retires
from Embassy at Washington 15

Earthquake at Jamaica, 135;

predicted beforehand 252

Eddy, Mary Baker G., in law-
suits, 368; early career of.. 650
Isducation controversy, the, in

England 140

Efficiency versus Goodness. ... 80
Electrons as units of matter.. 563
Elena, Queen of Italy, sketch

of 162

Emerson, Ralph Waldo, Prof.

G. E. Woodbury's estimate of 288
"Enemies, the," Gorky's drama 548
England's queen, notes on.... 509

Enthusiasm, a plea for 90

Evans, Rear Aidmiral "Bob,"

sketch of 33

Eye-strain in Balzac 662

Face Reading 329

Fairbanks, Vice-President, as a
presidential possibility 123

Ferocity as related to long
pedigree 102

Fiction, present-day, does it
tend to immorality 397

Fiorella, a comedy by Sardou 115

Fletcherism 326

Foraker, Senator J. B., oppos-
ing Taft in Ohio, 469; sketch
of, 506; struggle with Taft
in Ohio 599

France and the Catholic trou-
bles 25, 147, 265, 383, 492

Franklin, Benjamin's theory of
matter revived 563

Freedom of thought in the
church 533

"Fugitive, the," by Henry Nor-
manby 232

Fulda's, Ludwig, dramatic fling
at the Kaiser 186

Garrod, Mr. H. W., on religion
as power and beauty 208

"Gate, the, of Death," by A. C.
Benson 196

Genius, magazine neglect of... 165

Germany, election in, 143, 261;
attitude as to Hague Confer-
ence 488

Golovin, Feodor, made presi-
dent of the Duma, 377; con-
fers with Nicholas II 608

Gorky, Maxim's play "The
Enemies" 548

Gospel, why did not Jesus
write one ? 316

Haeckel, Ernest, and biogenesis 96

Hague Conference, advance
prospects of 488, 615

Hamlet, Turgenieff on 290

Hammerstein, Oscar, operatic
triumphs of 180

Happiness, Lyman Abbot on.. 528

Harnack, Adolf, on the author-
ship of Luke 201

Harriman, _ E. H., railroad
manipulation of, 136; sketch
of, 150; before the interstate
commission, 356; letter of to
Sidney Webster 477

Harrison, Frederic, expounding
his religion 647

Hauptmann, Gerhart, waning
glory of 438

Hawthorne, Nathaniel, esti-
mates of 517

Hearn, Lafcadio, sketch of.... 49

Hearst, William R., in the Chi-
cago election 480

Hill, James J., sketch of 39

Home Rule for Ireland pre-
dicted 266, 380

Homicide in America, foreign
comment on 613

House of Lords, attacked by
Mr. Lloyd-George 383

Hughes, Governor Charles E.,
sketch of 622

Huneker, James, as an inter-
preter of modernity 167

Hypnotism, misuse of 221

"Hypocrites, the," scenes from 189

Ibsen, proposed memorial to . . 300
Illusion, a theatrical 674

Immortality as shown by the
"astral" body 657

Immunity in Diseases 332

India as seen by Moncure D.
Conway 202

Insanity 679

Irish Home Rule Discussion in
Parliament 380

Ireland, Archbishop John, de-
fends the Papacy 530

Italy's queen, sketch of 162

Jamaica earthquake, the. 135
ames, Henry, as a literary
sphinx 634

Jamestown Exposition — the
naval display 595

Japan's grievance in San Fran-
cisco 6, 236,364

Jaw and character 333

Jesus, why He never wrote a
gospel, 316; portrayals of.. 424

Jordan, David Starr, on the
duty of the college to young
men ' ... 647

"King of Ys," &c., by Fiona
Macleod 462

Klein, Charles, his new play
"The Daughters of Men" ... 73

Knox, Prof. George W., on the
Spirit of the Orient 314

Labor panels in the Carnegie

Institute 639

Labor Unions under Christian

auspices 200

La Follette, Robert M., sen-
ator from Wisconsin, sketch

of 270

Lawson, Ernest, sketch of.... 406
Lazarus, story by Andreieff... 577
Leighton, Frederic, sketch of. 519
"Lion, the, and the Mouse,"

Klein's play 426

Literature, creative, is it lack-
ing to-day? 45; will science

supersede it ? 630

London, Jack, estimate of. . . . 513

Longfellow, estimates of 285

Lordfs, House of, threatened by

England's Prime Minister... 866
Lowell, James Russell's defi-
ciency as a philosopher 410

Luke, the authorship of, ac-
cording to Harnack 201

Magazine neglect of genius... 165
"Man, the, of the Hour"

played in New York, 185;

scenes from 541

Mansfield, Richard, estimate of 440
Markham, Edwin, the religion

of his poetry 317

Marlowe, Julia, in England... 674
Mars as a warless planet, 211;

the canals on. 681

Masculinity in religion 420

Maupassant, Guy de, estimate

of 636

McPartland, James, elicits

Orchard's confession 587

Mendes, CatuUe, new play by 306
Merry del Val, Cardinal, and

the Franco-Catholic troubles,

25; sketch of 625

Mind effects on the body 569

Ministers and Women 532

Mirza, Mohammed Ali, new

Shah of Persia 141

Mistral, Frederic, sketch and

estimates of 526

Modernity, James Huneker as

an interpreter of 167

CURRENT LITERATURE— INDEX TO VOL. XLII

Montagnini, Monsignor, driven
from France, 25; diary and
letters seized by French
Government ■■ 492

Moore, George, attacks Puritan
moral standards 398

Mosquito, the secrets of the... 676

Moyer-Haywood trial at Boise,
Idaho 587

Nationalization according to

Mark Twain 129

Nazimova, Mme. Alia, debut of 60
Neo-Catholicism in France.... 88
Netherland's queen, sketch of. 619
Newfoundland s Prime Minis-
ter, his hatred of the United

States ..•• 616

Novelli, Ermete, estimate of... 433

O'Conner, Andrew, sculptor,
estimate of 281

Opera in New York, 65; Ham-
merstein's triumphs in, 180:
"Ariane" and "Strandrecht'
sung 187

Orchard, Harry, and the Boise
trial 587

Orient, the spirit of the 314

Originality, lack of in great
minds 283

F»

Pain and pleasure of low or-
ganisms 217

Pain, the pursuit of 86

Panama Canal to be dug by the

army 365

Papacy, the, as a center for the
union of Christendom, 425;
Archbishop Ireland's defense

of 530

Pater, Walter, and his circle.. 644

Paul, criticisms of 540

Peace Conference in New York 486

Pedigree and ferocity 102

Persia's new Shah 141

Peter Pan analyzed 551

Photography by telegraph, 448;

of the voice 564

Physiologj' and sentiment 222

Plant intelligence 99

Pobiedonostzeff, estimate of... 512

Poetry, Recent (Quoted).

Abelard to Heloise — Ella

Wheeler Wilcox 341

Adventurers, The — Henry

Newbolt 689

Alander — G e o r g e Sylvester

Viereck 570

Anti-Rococo — William Ellery

Leonard 223

Barrel-Organ, The — Alfred

Noyes 104

Boy, The Song of the—

Justin Sterns 691

Broken Vase, The — Sally

Prudhomme 689

Christ, The Radiant — Ella

Wheeler Wilcox 574

City Comradeship — A n n a

Louise Strong 225

City Lights, The — Anna

Louise Strong 225

Columbus — Charles Buxton

Going 340

Compensation — William El-

lerjr Leonard 223

Crossing by Ferry at Night —

Nancy Byrd Turner 342

Poetry, Recent (Quoted) — Cont.

Daughter, The, Th«odosia
Garrison 225

Desert, Hymn of the — Mc-
Cready Sykes 457

Dragon, The, of the Seas —
Thomas Nelson Page 105

Earth, O, Sufficing All Our
Needs — Charles G. D.
Roberts 573

Ecce Homo — William Hervey
Woods 107

Ellis Island— C. A. Price... 458

Empire City, The — George
Sylvester Viereck 341

Eventide, At— Marie Corelli. 339

Face, The, of My Fancy —
Witter Bynner 458

Fall, The, of the Oak— Will-
iam Hervey Woods 342

Fan, the Weaving of the —
Mildred L. McNeal-
Sweeney 687

Garden, In a — Bliss Carman. 108

Garden, Tlie, of Passion —
Ludwig Lewisohn 224

Girl, A — Wilbur Underwood. 571

Happy Shepherd, Song of the
—William B. Yeats 338

Heloise to Abelard — Ella
Wheeler Wilcox 340

Honeymoon — ^John Davidson. . 107

Hope, The — Alfred de Mus-
set 573

Idols Fall, When — George
Sylvester Viereck 570

If Thou Forget — Ludwig
Lewisohn 224

Joy of the Morning — Edwin
Markham 457

Land, The, of Romance — E.
Vincent Millay 456

Laramie, The Family — Wil-
liam Henry Drummond. ... 690

Lee, Robert E. — Julia Ward
Howe 342

Lion, The Old — Thomas
Nelson Page 106

London — Arthur Symons . . . 224

Longfello w — Henry Van
Dyke 573

Lost Garden, The — Ella
Wheeler Wilcox 457

Love, A Song against —
Arthur Symons 225

Love, A Song of — Alfred
Noyes 105

March Secrets — Edna Kings-
ley Wallace 458

Men and the Fatherland, For
the Lives of — Bertrand
Shadwell 227

Miniver Cheevy — Edwin Ar-
lington Robinson 456

Mountain God, The — Flor-
ence Wilkinson 106

Never Give All the Heart —
William B. Yeats 339

New Year's Eve — T h o m a s
Hardy 339

Oklahoma, Land of My
Dreaming— George R. Hall 572

Parting — John Erskine 338

Peasant Song, A — Sandov
Petofi 458

Persian Tile, On a — Arthur
Davison Ficke 687

Pioneer, A — Mary Austin... 341

Sand Swallows, The, of
Minneapolis — Chester Fir-
kins 226

Santa Fe Trail, The 688

Shadow, The, On the Flower
— Edith M. Thomas 689

Shining Road, The — Mere-
dith Nicholson 572

Sketch, A — Bliss Carman 226

Sleeping Beauty, The— Edith
Summers 227

Songs of the Sea Children,
from — Bliss Carman 107

Poetry, Recent (Quoted) — Cont.
Values — Helen Huntington .. 225
Vision, The — Isabel Eccle-

stone Mackay 100

Voyageur, The — William

Henry Drummond 690

Wind, Lovers of the — Arthur

Symons 224

Winter Song to Pan — John

Erskine 338

Wordsworth — Sarah D. Ho-

bart 456

Pragpiatism 653

Presidential possibilities for
1908, 123; clash of candi-
dates in Ohio 469

Prison detects and abuses.... 654
Puccini, Giacomo, estimate of. 549
Pulpit, the, a "Coward's Castle" 315
Puritanism attacked by George
Moore 398

Race of primitive men discov-
ered in Nebraska 215

Race suicide, statistics on 92

Railroads, manipulation of, by
E. H. Harriman, 136; Amer- •
ican, general condition of,
139; inefficiency of, dis-
cussed, 256; ^casualties of,
to life, 259; and the Pres-
ident's policies, 353; R. R.

kings of America 384

Reichstag, the, dissolved 32

Religion in a new definition,
208; the basis of religious

belief 418

Religion, the, of Bernard Shaw 198
Richard, Cardinal, ordered

from his palace 28

"Road to Yesterday, the,"
played in New York, 184;

scenes from 660

Robin Redbreast, by Selma

Lagerlof 346

Rockefeller, John D., gifts of
to education, 253; the bright

side of 274

Rodecheff, influence of in the

Duma 611

Rjoosevelt, President, as a
Democrat, 1 ; message to
Congress, 4; relations with
foreign ambassadors, 17; dis-
cussion of his policies, 124;
as a meddler, 128; on the
Irish Sagas, 174; talk of a
third term for, 362; the
Kaiser and Morocco, 372;
charges a "rich men s con-
spiracy," 474; answers to
Harriman letter, 477; un-
diminished popularity of,
479; on "undesirable citi-
zens" 693

Root, Elihu, on the powers of
government, 129; in Canada 254

Rousseau's two natures 175

Ruef, "Abe," comment on.... 243

Rumania, revolt in 494

Russia, affairs in, 266; 'The
New Duma, 375; finances of,
379; illness of the Czar, 497;

Duma discussed 498, 608

Rust, the cause and prevention
of 452

Sagas, Irish, Roosevelt's trib-
ute to 174

Saint-Saens, Camille, estimate
of 67

Saionji, Marquis, speech on re-
lations with United States,
239; sketch of 277

"Salome" and the dramatic
hubbub over the play 295

CURRENT LITERATURE— INDEX TO VOL. XLII

San Francisco, Japanese trou-
ble in, C, 364; civic corrup-
tion in 240

Satsunia, Japanese battleship.. 240
Science, will it displace liter-
ature? 630

Scriabine, Alexander, sketch of. 184

Self-development 656

Sentiment and physiology 222

Sermons, Arthur C. Benson's

plea for better 83

Shakespeare, Tolstoy on, 47;

claimants 304

Shaw, Bernard, presents "The
Doctor's Dilemma," 69; as
a dramatic critic, 71; re-
ligion of 108

Sin, how to deal with it 538

Socialists' setback in Germany.

The elections 261

Spahn, Dr. Peter, leading the
Catholic center in Germany. 144

Spain's royal baby 604

Spider balloons 506

Spooner, Senator John C,

resignation of 361

Stars, fast and slow... 678

State rights disappearing, ac-
cording to Mark Twain 199

Stead, William T., sketch of.. 503
Stephen, Sir Leslie, contempt

of for literature 642

Sternberg, Baron Speck von,

relations of at Washington.. 374
Stevens, John F., abandons

Panama Canal job 306

Stirner, Max, expounds anarchy 535
Storer, Bellamy and Mrs., and
the President 21

"Strandrecht" sung at Leipsic. . 187
"Student King, the," played in

New York 183

Sultan of Turkey, sketch of . . 36
Swettenham incident at Ja-
maica, comment on 244

'Taft, secretary, as a presiden-
tial possibility, 123, 472, 599;
fight with Foraker, 469;

sketch of 617

Teleology denied 560

Telharmonium, the 670

Temperament 684

"Terrible Night, A," by Anton

Tchekhof 112

Terry, Ellen, the yonthfulness

of 802

Thaw trial ends in disagree-
ment 483

Theology, the New, in Eng-
land 411

"Therese," an opera of the

French Revolution 666

Thought effects on the body... 569
Turgenieff, Ivan, on Hamlet
and Don Quixote 290

"Undesirable Citizens" 593

Union of Christendom under
the Pope, Dr. Briggs on 425

Val, Merry del, sketch of 625

Vaudeville s golden age 669

Voice, power of the living, in

literature 52

Vorys, Arthur I., manager of
Taft's Ohio campaign 469

Wallace, General Lew, and
Ben Hur 178

War, unknown in Mars, 211;
moral substitutes for 417

Watson, John, D.D., estimate
of 631

Weather, the, chemical causes
of disturbance in 94

Wells, H. G., on future Amer-
ica 78

Whistler's Originality 389

Wilhelmina, Queen of the
Netherlands, sketch of 619

William II of Germany and the
coming election, 143; Roose-
velt and Morocco, 372; on
the German election 375

Williams, John Sharp, sketch
of 160

Woman, the inferior intellect
of 445

Yeats, W. B., on the power of
the living voice 52

Yuan Shi Kai, Chinese Vice-
roy, sketch of 40

CURRENT LITERATURE— INDEX TO VOL. XLII

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

NOTE. — Cartoons are indicated by "C."

Abarbanell, Lina 183

Abruzzi, Duke of the 650

Aladin, Alexis 379

Alcohol measurements 449

Alden, Henry Mills Opp. 49

Aldrich, Thonlas Bailey

Insert 48-49

Alexander, John W 643

Alexandra, Queen of England. 511
Alexis, son of Nicholas II.... 609

Aoki, Keikichi 238

Aoki, Viscount, 8; wife of... 9

Bacteria, charts of 218, 219

Barres, Maurice 402

Baudelaire, Charles, 514, 515;

cover design by 516

Bebel, August 144, 261

Belasco, David 435

Besuard, Albert, 57; studies

from 64-57

Birrell, Augustine 395

Blake, William, and some of

his pictures 169-173

Bonci, Alessandro i55

Borah, State Senator W. E... 692

Briand, Aristide 26

Brunetiere, Ferdinand 167

Bryan's arm-chair (C.) ; Arch-

eological fund (C), 122; his

last feather (C.) 479

Bryan-Parker-Hearst composite

photograph 480

Bryce, James 157

Buddhist priests in Ceylon.... 204
Bulow as a lightning rod (C). 146
Billow, Prince von, at the polls 263
Billow and the Socialists (C),

264; portrait of 272

Burton, Theodore E., M. C... 471

Busse, Frederick A 482

Buttrick, Wallace, D.D 252

Cahill, Dr. Thaddeus 673

Campbell, Rev. R, J 413

Campbell- Bannerman, Sir

Henry 267

Cannon, Speaker Joseph C. . . . 363

Carducci, Giosue 403

Carnegie, Andrew — frontispiece

for May.
Carnegie Institute views, 484,

485; labor panels in 640, 641

Charles I of Rumania and his

queen 497

Church, Samuel H., Litt.D 485

Clemens, Samuel L Insert 48-49

Clerical bull, the (C.) 375

"Closed" (C.) 12

Congo martyrs 80

Congressional office building... 1

Conway, Moncure D 203

Cox, George B 602

Cromer, Lord 496

Curtis, Senator Charles 125

Czar, the, and the Czarina. 610, 611

Darrow, Clarence S 593

"Daughters of Men, the,"

scenes from 73, 74

Davis, Rear Admiral 245

Defiance (C.) 3

"Dementia Americana" 483

Democracy in France (C.).... 148

Democracy, the, weary (C.)... 363

Dixon, Senator Joseph Moore. 124

Duma, the 499

Dupree. Minnie 667

Durand, Lady, 16; Sir Mor-
timer and group 17

Earthquake, another (C.) 10

Eddy, Mary Baker G 322, 323

Elena, Queen of Italy 163,164

Elephant, the (C.) 4

England's Queen 511

England's notables, a group of 616
Evans, Rear Admiral "Bob". 34, 85

Face, charts of the 329-331

Farlow, Alfred 368

Farrar, Geraldine 64

Fletcher, Horace .'527

Foraker, Joseph B 507, 600

French crowds at Richard's ex-
pulsion 149

Frew, William N 484

Frick, Henry C 390

Fuller, Chief Justice Melville
W. — frontispiece for January.

Gaillard, Col. David Du B 867

Germany's royal family 263

Germany's election (C;.) 263

Glover, George W. and Mary. 369

Goethals, Col. George W 366

Golovin, Feodor 378

Gooding, Governor Frank R. . . 691

Gould, George J 339

Guggenheim, Senator Simon. . . 125

Haeckel, Ernest 95

Hague Peace Palace 491

Hale. Edward Everett. Insert 48-49

Hatzfeldt, Countess 11

Hamid, Abdul 87

Hammerstein, Oscar 181

Harriman, Edward H., his
summer home, family, and
groups, 152-155; portraits of,
374, 386; with Interstate
Commerce Commission, map

of his roads 854

Harriman as the R. R. Spider
(C), chased off the earth

by Roosevelt (C.) 136

Harriman-Roosevelt tilt (C.),

474; the result (C.) 478

Hauptmann, Gerhart 439

Hawaiian Islands (C.) 243

Hawley, James H 592

Hearn, Lafcadio, his children,

bungalow and grave 50, 51

Hearst in Chicago (C.) 483

Hengelmuller, Baron and

Baroness ig

Higginson, Thomas Went-

^worth Insert 48-49

Hill, Tames J 41,387

Howells, W. D Insert 48-49

Hughes, Governor Charles E.

Frontispiece for June.
Hughitt, Marvin 355

Ibsen, proposed memorial to.. 300

Illusion, mechanics of 674

India — a religious allegory of. 205
Interstate Commission with E.

H. Harriman 354

Italy's Queen 163, 164

Jamaica earthquake — views and
cartoons 246, 251

Jamestown, naval review, 595;
John Smith-Pocahontas, old
wood-cuts, 597 ; Welcome !
(C.) 699

Japan, the Bogey man (C). .. 242
apanese Children in San
Francisco, 240; San Fran-
cisco objects (C.), 240; the
yellow peril (C.), 241: Un-
cle Sam and the Little Jap
(C.) 24S

Japanese groups of laborers in
California 6, 7

Jusserand, J. A. A. Jules and
Madame 19

Kellogg, Frank Billings 187

Killing the Goose (C.) 858

Kingston, Jamaica 135

Klein, Charles 322

Kuroki, General 599

La Follette, Senator Robert M.

Frontispiece for March. His

daughter Lola 271

Lawson, Ernest, and some of

his pictures 406-409

Leighton, Frederic, and some

of his pictures 519-523

Leopold II of Belgium 31

Longfellow, Henry W., homes

and bust of 285-287

Lords, House of, as a Barrier

(C.) 140

Lowell, Prof. Percival 213

Markham, Edwin 318

Mars, map of, 211 ; cause of
peace on, 214; ocular illusion

as to canals of 681-683

Maupassant, Guy de 637

McCrea, James 355

Mellen, Charles S 356

Merry del Val, Cardinal. . .26, 627
Messages, the President's (C.)

2, 126

Milyoukoff, Professor 379

Mistral, Fr6d6ric 527

Moore, William H 391

Morgan, J. Pierpont 885

Mosquito charts 676-677

Moyer-Haywood parade in New
York, 588; the accused men
and their wives 589

Nazimova, Mme. Alia 61

Neanderthal head 216

Netherlands, Queen of 621

Nobel prize winner, the (C.).. 5
Novelli, Ermete 434

CURRENT LITERATURE— INDEX TO VOL. XLII

O'Conner, Andrew, 281; pic-
tures by 282-284

Orchard, Harry 690

F»

Panama Canal Methods (C.)-- 365

Peace (C.) 615

Peace Conference, the, in New

York (C), 486; in session. 487

Penrose, Senator Boise 477

Persia, crowd at the palace. . . 142

Peter Pan pictures 550-556

Pettus, Senator Edmund W... 3
Photography by telegraph,

charts, etc 448

Pius X 27

Protoplasm, charts of 565, 566

Puccini, Giacomo 549

Quinby, Phineas P.

323

Railroad lassoing (C.) 858

Rampolla, Cardinal 627

Richard, Cardinal 27

Richardson, E. F 693

Rockefeller gifts, map of, 253;

Liberty's rival (C.) 254

Roosevelt, President, portrait
bust of, 127; facial expres-
sions of, 130, 131; /'On-
wardl" (C), 126; wringing
out the water (C), 258;
making up to Miss Democ-
racy (C), 259; "shooting
up'' Harriman (C), 358;
holding in the dogs of war
(C), 364; his brand (C.).. 476
Root, Elihu 255

Rousseau, Jean Tacques, 177;
the village where he was

mobbed 176

Ruef, Abraham 241

Rumania's king and queen .... 497

Russian assemblies 376

Russia, famine scenes in 375

Russia's royal child 609

Saint-Saens, Camilla 67

Saionji, Marquis 279

"Salome," scenes from 295-299

San Francisco Board of Edu-
cation and others 239

Scriabine, Alexander 182

Semalik, the, and Mosque.... 36
Senate, the, and its master

(C.) 362

Senatorial thermometer (C.) . . 362

Sequence (C.) 234

Shaw, Bernard (C.) 71

Skulls of prehistoric men, 215;

profile view 216

Smith, John, statue of 598

Smith, Senator William Alden 124

Solar System, chart of 678

Sothern, E. H 298

Spain, views of palace, re the

new heir 603-607

Spider balloons 567-569

Spooner, Senator John C 361

Starr, Frances E 437

Stead, William S. and wife. 504, 505
Stedman, Edmund Clarence,

Insert 48-49

Stephen, Sir Leslie 643

Sternberg, Baron Speck von and

Baroness von 15

Steunenberg, ex-Governor

Frank, the late 591

Stolypin, Prime Minister, and

wife 500

Storer, Mrs. Bellamy, 22; Bel-
lamy Storer 23

Storer Incident, the (C.) 21

Sultan, the, of Turkey 37

Swettenham, Sir Alexander,

247, and wife 246

Szamosy, Elza 66

Taft, Secretary William H.
Frontispiece for April por-
trait, 601 ; as the Flying
Mercury (C), in the hands

of his friends (C.) 723

Taft-Foraker wasp's nest (C.) 470

Taft's vehicle (C.) 471

Taft at the head (C.) 472

Telharmonium, the 671

Terry, Ellen 303

Third term activity (C.) 360

Thomas, Prof. William 1 446

Tomlinson, Rev. Irving G.... 368

Val, Cardinal Merry del... 26, 627

Vanderbilt, William K 388

Victoria, Princess of Germany,

mother, and brother 263

Vorys, Arthur 1 470

Vries, Henry de 184

Wallace, General Lew 178

Wall Street preying (C.) 357

War with Japan? (C.) 238

Warens, Madame de 176

Warfield, David 436

Watson, John, D.D 632

Wilhelmina, Queen 681

William II and sons 264

Williams, John Sharp. Fron-
tispiece for February. As
he appears on the floor of

Congress 161

Wood, Judge Fremont 590

Woodberry, Prof. George E. .. 289
Woodruff, Major Charles E. . . 443

Pboto{praiph by Marceau.

THE CHIEF JUSTICE OF THE UNITED STATES

M«lville W. Fuller has been at the head of the Supreme Court of the United States for eighteen years. To that
court must come for final adjudication all those cases that the federal government is pressing against the great cor-
porafaoM for the disregard of their legal obligations. ' ^ " * i <= k «i i-ui

1 viJy . X.'-U,

Current Literature

Edward J. Wheeler, Editor
VOL. XLII, No. 1 Associate Editors : Leonard D. Abbott, Alexander Harvey JANUARY, 1907

George S. Viereck

A Review of the World

AS President Roosevelt become a
Democrat? That question is one
that has been debated every now and
then, with increasing frequency, dur-
ing the last few years, but never more ear-
nestly than since his recent presidential mes-
sage. Naturally there are two sides to the
debate, one side contending that he and Bryan
stand for almost the same political program,
the other contending that the recent message
is, by reason of its strongly federalist ten-
dency, one of the most un-Democratic docu-
ments ever written. This sharp antagonism
of views seems to prevail even among Demo-
cratic leaders and gives a peculiar interest to
the message. Apparently President Roosevelt
is incapable to-day of writing a message or
making a speech or dismissing an ambassador
or taking a journey without exciting the lively
attention of a goodly part of mankind and
introducing new material into the discussions
that break the monotony of life on a consider-
able portion of the world's surface. A general
perusal of the press of the country creates
a sort of impression that all ii'tellectual activ-
ity is divided into two parts — one which con-
cerns itself with what President Roosevelt has

just done and the other which concerns itself
with what he is likely to do next. Certainly
the recent message has not dispelled that im-
pression. "No ruler in any part of the world,"
says the Philadelphia Ledger merrily, "cer-
tainly no President of the United States, could
ever quite as truthfully say, 'The fever of the
world has hung upon the beatings of my
heart.' "

IF THE parallel columns were applied to the
■■■ comments on the message an interesting
divergence on this subject of Mr. Roosevelt's
Democracy would be manifested. The New
York World (Dem.), for instance, goes at
length into what it terms "the Roosevelt- Bryan
merger." It finds a surprising number of
points in which their views coincide or nearly
coincide, taking as a basis of comparison Mr.
Bryan's recent Madison Square Garden speech
and Mr. Roosevelt's message. Item number
one, a federal income tax. Item number two,
a law forbidding corporations to contribute
to campaign expenses. Item number three, a
federal license law for corporations. On the
enforcement of the criminal clause of the anti-
trust law, the question of federal injunctions in

i"j

-^^-

) '

NEW OFFICE BUILDING FOR SENATE AND HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES

— From Architect's plans.

CURRENT LITERATURE

DEFIANCE

— Triggs in N. Y. Press.

labor troubles, the eight-hour day, the use
of the navy to collect private debts, the
strengthening of the meat inspection law, the
public criticism of judges and courts, and vari-
ous other matters it finds the utterances of

the two men surprisingly similar, and it con-
cludes as follows:

"Comparing Mr. Bryan's Madison Square Gar-
den speech with Mr. Roosevelt's message to Con-
gress, the reader is forced to the conclusion that
if Mr. Roosevelt would advocate tariff revision
and Mr. Bryan would stop advocating Govern-
ment ownership of railroads they would be sub-
stantially in accord. . . . Accepting Mr.
Roosevelt and Mr. Bryan as the leaders of their
respective parties, we defy anybody to say where
the dividing line is beyond which a voter has
ceased to be a Roosevelt Republican and become
a Bryan Democrat. There has been no such ob-
literation of party lines in American politics for
three-quarters of a century. The Roosevelt-
Bryan merger is one of the most extraordinary
events in American history, especially in view of
the fact that Mr. Bryan claims to be 'more radi-
cal than ever,' while Mr. Roosevelt persists in
regarding himself as a rational conservative bat-
tling manfully 'against the demagogue and the
agitator.' "

\ 7 lEWS similar to this find frequent expres-
" sion in comment on the message. John
Sharp Williams, leader of the Democrats in
Congress, is reported as saying: "We have
lassoed the President to the triumphal car of
Democracy on the questions of an income tax
and an inheritance tax. This, combined with
the rope already tying him, makes him pretty
close to being a captive."

The Philadelphia Record finds that there is

THE. MESSAGE

— Mayer in N. Y. Times.

HAS PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT BECOME A DEMOCRAT?

"practical agreement" between Roosevelt and
Bryan except as to Bryan's free silver views,
and it insists that Mr. Bryan is Mr. Roose-
velt's "legitimate successor" in the White
House. "Even on the tariff question," it re-
marks, "Roosevelt is gradually getting back
on to Democratic ground. He would approach
tariff revision by way of the income tax after
the manner of the Wilson Tariff bill."

"The President," asserts the New York
Press (Rep.) admiringly, "is far more radi-
cal, as he addresses Congress now, than Will-
iam J. Bryan ever dared to be ten years ago."
And the Baltimore Sun (Dem.) comments on
the message in the following amusing manner :

"President Roosevelt is the despair of all states-
men of advanced views and opposite political
faith in the United States. He will not allow
them to keep in the lead in the advocacy of meas-
ures which seem to have a considerable degree of
popular support. The courage, skill and audacity
with which he appropriates to his own use every
weapon in the armories of his political opponents
are amazing. Not less astonishing is the success
with which he forces these purloined doctrines
upon his party. Democrats, Populists, advanced
political thinkers generally have suffered from
Mr. Roosevelt's raids upon their preserves. He
will not permit them to make exclusive claim to
any issue, whatever its parentage, which seems to
be a vote-getter. There was never such a bold
and audacious statesman in the United States as
the Chief Magistrate who has, in the last few
years — and certainly in no Pickwickian spirit —
denounced his political opponents in one breath for
their dangerous and unpatriotic radicalism, and at
the earliest opportunity seized their most radical
doctrines and made them his own. . . . The
only important and practical issue belonging to
another party which the President has not added
to his own collection is revision of the tariff. H
Democrats do not keep it under lock and key and
closely guarded, they may awake one fine morning
to the heartbreaking discovery that Mr. Roosevelt
has nabbed it."

V/ET, plausible as all this sounds, the view
* is still more widely prevalent that the
President has, in this message, departed far-
ther than any other man ever in the White
House dared to depart from the doctrine of
States rights, usually regarded as the central
doctrine of Mr. Bryan's party. "From first
to last," says the Columbia State (Dem.), "the
message breathes the spirit of centralization
and stresses the aggrandizement of federal
power." The Philadelphia Evening Bulletin
agrees with this most decidedly. It says:

"In all the varied discussions and recommenda-
tions which enter into the message, the one note
which is uppermost and rings the loudest is the
extension of the Federal power. More Federal
power, more Federal power — the stretching to the
utmost of such as may already be fairly or con-
stitutionally applied to the problems which he

THE OLDEST MEMBER OF THE UNITED
STATES SENATE
Senator Edmund Winston Pettus, of Alabama, is
in his eighty-sixth year and his term as Senator still
has three years to run. He was a lieutenant in the
Mexican War, a forty-niner in California, and a brig-
adier-general in the Civil War.

treats, or its enlargements, or the taking of meas-
ures for new grants of it from the States — is the
burden of his pleas. The extreme spirit of Feder-
alism has never permeated the message of any
American President of modern times to the de-
gree in which it is either expressed directly or
suggested by Mr. Roosevelt in this statement of
his views and policies."

Especially in the South is this note of the
message discerned and denounced. Says the
Democratic C ourier-J ournal, of Louisville :

"The general inference to be drawn from his
preachments, if we accept them as infallibly true,
is that the States are a nuisance, and ought at the
beginning to have delegated all their powers to
the Federal Government. As they are unwilling
to do this, they are now to be adjudged in con-
tempt and retained only for the purpose of mak-
ing more offices for the faithful. The truth is,
the President's ideas of a system of government
are not altogether consistent, but in general be is

CURRENT LITERATURE

in favor of concentrating power in the Federal
Government. He is not in all cases willing to
do this by the slow and difficult process of con-
stitutional amendment, but proposes to put into
effect certain extreme ideas which have never met
with judicial approval, and see whether the
Supreme Court will take the responsibility of say-
ing they are unconstitutional. This temper of
mind is the farthest possible from that of a
Democrat, and one who reads the message with
care must decide that, in spite of certain flashes
of Democratic sentiment, its author is clearly not
a Democrat. The notion that he is going delib-
erately to do anything to help the Democratic
party is altogether illusory."

TTHE message which has drawn forth such
■'■ widely different comment is a document
which would fill about thirty pages of this
magazine. It contains about 25,000 words,
including the occasional "thrus" and "thru-
outs" and other "simplified" forms which the
New York Sun speaks of with a shudder
as not words at all but "enormities." The
message covers twenty-one large topics, in-
cluding race-suicide, lynching, and divorce.
The tariff is again conspicuous by its
absence, the only thing said about it being
a renewal of the plea for the passage of the
Philippine tariff bill. The most sensational
feature of the message is the passage about
San Francisco's treatment of the Japanese,

and the declaration that to enforce the treaty
rights of aliens the President will employ "all
of the forces, military and civil," which he
can lawfuly employ. Next to that in sensa-
tional interest is the declaration in behalf of
a graduated inheritance tax and the assertion
of the desirability of enacting an income tax
"if possible," — that is to say if one can be
formulated that the United States Supreme
Court will now accept. The message is not
so much one to Congress as one to the Ameri-
can people, and a number of passages, such
as the one on "wilful sterility" and the one
on "lynching," contain no reference to any
proposed action of Congress, but are in the
nature of preachments to the President's fel-
low citizens outside the national assembly.
The President has poured out his convictions
on many topics with which Congress is in the
nature of the case unable to deal, and, not
content with one message, the President pro-
ceeded to bombard Congress a few days later
with various special messages, three of them
being sent in the same day.

OT any presidential message is ever quite
as interesting, however, as is the reception
given it in the country at large. Aside from
the features of this reception already touched

Tag 5LEPHJ^NT: "Really, Theodore, this doesn't seem dignified."

— PonaJ»ey in Cleveland Plain Dealer.

THE PRESIDENT AND THE CORPORATION

upon, there are other features
almost equally paradoxical.
The more conservative papers
hail it as a sign of a progress
toward conservatism and the
more radical journals com-
mend it for its evidences of
increasing radicalism. "What
the President has said in this
paper," says the conservative
Times-Despatch ( Richmond ) ,
"he has said on the whole
conservatively"; and the still
more conservative New York
Times finds in parts of the
message "a surprising re-
versal of opinions." Yet radi-
cal papers, such as the At-
lanta Georgian, the New
York Press and the Philadel-
phia North American, bestow
abundant praise upon the
paper and its author. Here
is an extract from a long and
glowing editorial in the last-
named journal :

"The message is charged full
with intense and enthusiastic
patriotism. Whatever the errors
of his judgment may be, his de-
votion to the country and to the
republican principle animates
every fiber of his being, and
must rekindle the flame in the soul of him
who reads the President's words. The utter-
ance is of a strong man whose opinions have
behind them the force of a great character,
strengthened by the power and the prestige of the
highest office in the world. What he has to say
represents ideas which must be reckoned with.
Notably they are national ideas. Mr. Roosevelt
is, in a sense, a Hamiltonian. He respects, but
does not regard with deepest reverence, the
theory or the fact of State rights. Perhaps he
may have an impulse now and then to trespass
upon them. The glorious vision upon which his
eyes are fixed steadfastly is that of a mighty
nation of free people, bound together by indis-
soluble ties, having common interests and a single
destiny, and a heritage of freedom precious be-
yond all its material treasures.

"From some of the suggestions offered in this
public paper, which is notable simply as a literary
achievement, many Americans doubtless will dis-
sent. But, considering the declaration by and
large, the American who discovers that he has
no sympathy with it and that he is out of tune
with the spirit that pervades it, will do well to
examine anew the grounds of his own loyalty to
his country and its government."

THE NOBEL PRIZE WINNER
— From Kladderadatsch.

the comment made by the Lon-
don Standard. "Moderate as
are the President's aims," it
says, "they involve changes
which to many of his fellow-
citizens will seem almost rev-
olutionary." The kind of in-
terpretation one gives to the
message consequently seems
to depend upon the relative
importance. one attaches to the
aims, which are moderate,. and
to the possibility of revolu-
tionary consequences in the
changes proposed. Running
all through the message, as
the foreign papers have seen
even more clearly than our
own, is the strife between
capital and labor — the vast in-
dustrial discontent aroused by
the development of the cor-
poration. It is because of this
that the President urges most
of the extensions of federal
power and most of the
changes he advocates in re-
lation to the courts. The
message begins on this key.
It calls for a federal law for-
bidding corporations to con-
tribute to political funds. It
request a change in fed-
will confer on the govern-
ment a right of appeal in criminal cases on
questions of law — a plea that grows directly
out of the attorney-general's prosecution of
corporation officials. The message next pro-
ceeds to ask for legislation that will limit the
use of injunctions in labor disputes and to lec-
ture the judiciary for abuses of their present
power in this line. The long passage on lynch-
ing has but indirect and incidental reference
to the labor question, but it is a preachment
(and a very good one, too, as many Southern
papers hasten to admit), not a call to Con-
gress for action. Then comes a series of pas-
sages on the following topics: "Capital and
Labor"; "Railroad Employees' Hours and
Eight-Hour Law"; "Labor of Women and
Children"; "Employers' Liability"; "Investi-
gation of Disputes Between Capital and
Labor"; "Withdrawal of Coal Lands"; "Cor-
porations"; "Inheritance and Income Tax";
"Technical and Industrial Training."

goes on
eral law

to
that

DERHAPS the best key to a clear under-
*■ standing of the message and of the confu-
sion of opinions in regard to it is to be found in

nr HESE titles speak for themselves. By this
■'■ time we are more than half through the

CURRENT LITERATURE

message, and hardly a word has been said on
what are usually regarded as political topics —
the sort of topics to which presidential mes-
sages used to be entirely directed, and on which
political parties used to divide in fierce array.
In fact, it is almost impossible to place one's
finger on a single passage of the message and
say, here the President is enunciating Repub-
lican- party or any other party doctrine. The
London Daily Nezvs is a radical paper, but its
comment on the message is in general harmony
with that of the most conservative papers. It
says:

"Never in any recent period were events
so manifestly hurrying men into fresh courses,
the end of which no man can foresee. In all

All the world, the same paper goes on to say,
is wrestling with the same problem, and in the
President's message, or rather in the problems
it presents, is "the keynote of politics in the
twentieth century" in all civilized lands.

3 HEN Master Sidney Marks, of San
Francisco, shied an old tomato can
a few weeks ago he was uncon-
scious of the fact that he was mak-
ing history. He knows it now and is proud in
consequence. He was simply, as he thought,
engaging in the gentle pastime called "soak
the skippie." Skippie means any old kind of

JAPANESE LABOR IN CALIFORNIA — OX A FRUIT FARM.

The cheap labor of the Japanese is more feared on the Pacific coast, says Congressman Kahn, than ever cheap
Chinese labor was even in the days preceding the Sand Lot agitation.

Aryan nations industrial revolution is heap-
ing up wealth into great accumulations. Capital
and labor are organizing into hostile corporations.
Military preparations challenge a fierce longing
for peace and international amity. Wide discon-
tent tortures the obscure millions at the basis of
society. America here confronts the same menace
as Europe. The 'President appears to-day as
wrestling with forces which he can comprehend,
but cannot control. Mr. Roosevelt diagnoses the
situation with a most startling clearness. In
agile phrases he attempts to steer between revolt
against the insolence of weahh and fear of an-
archy and socialism."

a Japanese. The "skippie" in this case was
a noted seismologist. Professor Omura, wear-
ing a silk hat (now no longer wearable) and
studying the ruins of the earthquake. Sid-
ney's tomato can not only demolished the silk
hat, but precipitated an international issue. It
was the whisper that starts the avalanche, the
feather that breaks the camel's back. And
we reproduce for the use of future historians
Sidney's own picturesque account of the
affair:

THE PRESIDENT'S TRIBUTE

M-^

"It was this way. There was a bunch of us out
behind the Post Oflfice, when one of the gang
yells, 'Pipe the Skippie under the dicer. Let's
soak 'im.' We let loose for fair, me to be the
lucky boy. I bounced a can off his skypiece. He
was sure sore. But we sent him down the alley
after the naughty boy who did him wrong."

Probably this assault upon Professor Omura
had as much as the dismissal of Yasamaru
from the Pacific Heights Grammar School
had to do with the indignant protests of the
Japanese that have led to talks of war, and
have resulted in the most sensational passage
in the President's message.

Of that passage the Connecticut Conrant
observes, "no such glowing tribute to the
greatness of Japan and her people by
the chief executive of a Christian country

country during the same period." The Presi-
dent recalls the fact that the Japanese sent a
gift of $100,000 to San Francisco at the time
of her recent great need, speaks of their pro-
verbial courtesy, and of the welcome they
receive in all our higher institutions of learn-
ing and in all our professional and social
bodies, concluding his eulogy as follows : "The
Japanese have won in a single generation the
right to stand abreast of the foremost and
most enlightened peoples of Europe and
America; they have won on their own merits
and by their own exertions the right to treat-
ment on a basis of full and frank equality."

N SHARP contrast with this glowing eulogy
comes then a lecture to San Francisco.

JAPANESE LABOR IN CALIFORNIA— ON AN OSTRICH FARM '

Not the Japanese schoolboy but the Japanese coolie is said to be the real cause of the new race issue in California.
The coolies are coming into San Francisco at the rate of 1,000 a month, and a much greater influx is feared.

was ever before penned." The growth
of Japan, says the President, has been "liter-
ally astounding," and "there is not only noth-
ing to parallel it but nothing to approach it
in the history of civilized mankind." This
progress has been alike in the arts of war and
the arts of peace. Japanese soldiers and sail-
ors have shown themselves "equal in combat to
any of whom history makes note," and the
nation's industrial and commercial develop-
ment has been "greater than that of any other

"No such rebuke," says The Courant, "has
been leveled at an American city by an Ameri-
can President since Andrew Jackson's time —
if then." The California Congressmen, as they
sat and heard it read, almost literally gnashed
their teeth, it is said, with indignation. The
President spoke of the "unworthy feeling"
that has been shown in shutting Japanese pu-
pils out of the public schools of San Francisco.
Such a proceeding, he says, is "a wicked ab-
surdity" in view of the fact that colleges every-

'URRENT LITERAWM

HE GOT THE JAPANESE EMPHASIS INTO THE
PRESIDENT'S MESSAGE
Viscount Aoki, the first ambassador ever sent from
Tokyo to Washington, is said to have inspired Mr.
Roosevelt witn his present sense of the seriousness
of the attitude of San Francisco on the school ques-
tion. When Viscount Aoki protested against^ the
treatment of Japanese on the Pacific coast his attitude
was deemed "very unusual" for a diplomatist.

where, even in California, are glad to receive
Japanese students. It is contrary to public
interest, for the development of our trade in
the far East is "out of the question" unless
we treat other nations with justice. He asks
the states to deal wisely and promptly with
wrongdoers and pledges the federal govern-
ment to deal summarily where it has power to
do so. But "one of the great embarrassments
attending the performance of our international
obligations" is the inadequate power given to

the federal authorities to protect aliens in the
rights secured to them under solemn treaties
which are the law of the land." He accord-
ingly requests such amendments to the criminal
and civil statutes as will enable the President
to protect such rights. Then comes the declara-
tion that has made California buzz with anger.
"In the matter now before me affecting the
Japanese," says the President, "everything
that is in my power will be done, and all of
the forces, military and civil, of the United
States which I may lawfuly employ will be so
employed."

IN THE first outburst of indignation, Califor-
nians seem to have missed the precise bear-
ing of this reference to force. "This is an im-
plied threat to use military force to put Japa-
nese children into our schools," says the San
Francisco Chronicle. The^ President certainly
does not say that, and it is 'more than doubtful
if he meant to imply it. He nowhere asserts
that the federal government has any right to
control in such a matter. He is speaking of
ill treatment of aliens in general and of the
Japanese in particular, and exclusion from the
schools is set forth simply as a glaring mani-
festation of the "unworthy feeling" that leads
to this ill treatment. But the context shows, and
the second message showed still more clearly,
that the President had in mind more than ex-
clusion of Japanese pupils from public schools
in asking for an extension of power. The next
sentence but one after the reference to the use
of the army elucidates his evident meaning.
"The mob of a single city," he says, "may at
any time perform acts of lawless violence
against some class of foreigners which would
plunge us into war." It is quite probable that
the President had in mind not only the out-
break in New Orleans a few years ago against
Italians, but the violent treatment of Chinese
in San Francisco in the days of the Sand Lot
agitation, and intended that his words should
be a warning against allowing the hostility to
the Japanese to develop into any such dem-
onstration. On the very day the message was
published. Congressman McKinley, of Califor-
nia, was being quoted in San Francisco papers
as saying that the people of California are
growing tired of the "imperious ways" of the
Japanese, and may be tempted, if things go on
much further, "to wring their necks." When
members of Congress called on the President
the day after the publication of the message
to hear what he would say about the criticism
evoked in California and elsewhere, he re-
ferred feelingly to the assault upon Professor

THE REAL JAPANESE ISSUE IN CALIFORNIA

Omura. And Secretary Metcalf, in his recently
published report, tells of 281 such assaults re-
ported by the police in the six months ending
November 5 !

D ACK of this question of the admission of
■'-' Japanese pupils to public schools lies the
real question at issue — the competition of
Japanese labor. The school trouble is an occa-
•sion, not a cause, and an occasion of slight
importance in and of itself. There are, accord-
iing to one authority, but 40 Japanese pupils
lof school age (referring to pupils of primary
:schools probably) in the city. The Califor-
mians make a point of the fact that these are
not "excluded" from the public schools; they
are "sequestrated" in a school by themselves.
Moreover the process of "sequestration" ap-
plies to the lower grades only, not to the high
schools. The Japanese pupils may still attend
the high schools, and are doing so; and a
teacher in one of these schools is quoted by a
special correspondent of the New York Press
as giving them an exceptionally good charac-
ter. He says :

"In the high schools there are abput twenty
Japanese, and, far from being a disadvantage,
they are a positive advantage, as they spur the
white boys and girls to better efforts. The whites
do not like to be outstripped by the little brown
boys. The Japs are wideawake, industrious and
always on the alert to learn. They make a good
showing in all their classes. So far from seeking
to mix with the whites, they are clannish in the
extreme. All the talk of their attempting to
mingle with the white girls is pure rubbish. They
mind their own business, and unless invited never
itry to take part in the games or sports of the
whites. They never pay any attention to the
girls of the school, and after school hours go to
their homes without wasting any time among
Iheir companions. They are orderly in the ex-
treme, and all are models of neatness."

IT IS not the Japanese school boy but the
*■ Japanese coolie that is to blame for the pres-
ent agitation. "The people of California," said
Congressman Julius Kahn, of California, in a
recent speech in New York City, "regard these
Japanese coolies with greater abhorrence — ay,
even with greater fear — than they did the
coolies from China. We feel that the former
have all the vices of the Chinese, with none of
their virtues. The Chinaman lives up to the
letter of his obligation, while the Japanese
never hesitates to break that obligation if it
suits his purpose."

The influx of Japanese laborers is on the in-
crease. While the Chinese population of San
Francisco has diminished by 7,748 in the last
two years^ that of the Japanese has increased

THE WIFE OF THE JAPANESE AMBASSADOR

Viscountess Aoki has German blood in her veins and
is considered one of the most successful hostesses at
the national capital. Her receptions and dinners are
among the brilliant events of the Washington season.

by nearly 14,000. The San Francisco Chroni-
cle publishes statistics showing that in Hawaii,
in 1900, there were but 28,819 Caucasians out
of a total population of 154,000, while there
were 61,111 Japanese and 27,000 other Asiatics.
"What we are fighting for on this coast,"
it says, "is that California and Oregon and
Washington shall not become what the ter-
ritory of Hawaii now is. H the Japanese are
permitted to come here freely nothing can pre-
vent that except revolution and massacre,
which would be certain."

CURRENT LITERATURE

'T'HE latest report of the State Bureau of
■'■ Labor Statistics (California) goes ex-
haustively into the labor question raised by
Japanese immigration. It gives the reasons
for hostility in the following words:

"It is generally conceded that the Jap is merci-
'less when he has his employer at a disadvantage;
that he will work cheaply until 'all competition is
eliminated and then strike for higher wages, to-
tally disregarding any agreement or contract. The
general persistency with which the Japanese are
breaking into many industries, their frugality, their
artibition and their lack of business morality ren-
der them more formidable even than the Chinese."

The rumor comes from Washington and
persists despite official denials that diplomatic
negotiations are under way that will result
in the elimination of Japanese coolie emigra-
tion to America, either by the action of the
Japanese government acting alone or by a
joint agreement between the two governments
It is safe to say that such a result would
extract from the question of Japanese pupils

ANOTHER EARTHQUAKE

in the schools all the dynamite that is in it.
But it leaves the larger question of the power
of the federal government to protect the treaty
rights of aliens entirely untouched. That very
far-reaching question has been almost ignored
in the discussion so far. It is several times
larger than the entire Japanese issue and per-
tains not to one section alone but to all sec-
tions. It is yet to receive anything like the
attention the President seems to desire.

PEAKING recently of the authority
of Congress in regard to the Presi-
dent's discharge of the negro sol-
SHJ diers of three companies. Secretary
Taft cheerily remarked: "One thing I know
Congress can do. It can investigate. It has
investigated everything I ever did." Before
the present session of Congress was old enough
even to notify the President that it was in
existence, two resolutions were presented for
an investigation of this action by the Presi-
dent in discharging
the members of
Companies B, C and
D of the twenty-fifth
regiment of infan-
try. Senator Boies
Penrose presented
one resolution. Sen-
ator Foraker an-
other. Senator Pen-
ro'Se's resolution
called on the Senate
for full information
and Senator Fora-
ker's called on the
war department. The
former, it is said,
was if not inspired
at least encouraged
by the President,
who wants to tell
all he knows. The
latter seems to have
been presented in a
spirit of open an-
tagonism to the ad-
ministration. Ever
since Secretary Taft
went to Ohio and
made that memor-
. able campaign
speech that retired
George B. Cox, For-
■'aker's political ally,
from political activ-

— Macauley in N. Y. World.

THE CASE OF THE NEGRO BATTALION

ity, the senior Senator from the Buckeye state
has been active in assaiUng administration
projects. Without waiting for the facts which
his resolution called for to be officially pre-
sented, he proceeded to express his belief that
"the report made by the officers who investi-
gated the Brownsville afifair is the most in-
complete, unsatisfactory and most flimsy evi-
dence I have ever seen."

' T7IGHT investigations of this Brownsville
*— ' affair have already been made, and it
occurred as recently as August 14. Three
of these investigations were made by army
officials: the first by Major Blocksom, of the
inspector-general's department; the second
by Lieut. -Colonel Leonard A. Lovering, act-
ing inspector-general; the third by Brigadier-
General Ernest A. Arlington, inspector-gen-
eral of the army. A citizens' committee from
Brownsville, Texas, where the affray occurred,
also made an investigation. A committee of
the Constitutional League — a negro organiza-
tion— made an investigation. Then General
A. B. Nettleton, of Chicago, assistant secretary
of the treasury under President McKinley,
being in Brownsville on a business trip, made
an investigation at the request of the citizens'
committee. A negro attorney of Tarrant
county, Texas — Sidney S. Johnston — em-
ployed, it is said, by the discharged soldiers,
made an investigation. And a- Republican
negro politician of New York City — Gilchrist
Stewart — has been investigating. The three
army officers, the citizens' committee. General
Nettleton and the negro attorney all seem to
agree that negro soldiers were the perpetrators
of a midnight attack upon the citizens of
Brownsville, and that in consequence the dis-
charged soldiers have no cause to complain.
The negro attorney is said to have worked as
a laborer in the town for two months to pro-
cure evidence for the soldiers and to have
abandoned their cause, saying they were "en-
tirely to blame." General Nettleton, an anti-
slavery advocate before the war and a Union
veteran, says:

"There was no 'riot' and no street 'rows' as
many newspapers persist in calling the occur-
rences. It was simply a most cowardly conspir-
acy to terrify, wound and kill unoflfending men,
women and children at the hour of midnight
when defense or resistance was impossible, and
was not even attempted. Evidently not an oppos-
ing shot was fired."

He thinks the President, in discharging
nearly all the rank and file of the battalion.

THE PRIDE OF THE JAPANESE EMBASSY IN
WASHINGTON
This young lady is the Countess Hatzfeldt, only
daughter of the Japanese Ambassador in this country.
The Countess is one of the most accomi^lished women
in the diplomatic circle. She is descended from a
Nippon family of such renown that Count Hatzfeldt,
himself a descendant of the most aristocratic of Prus-
sian families, found it difficult to win her for a wife.

took the only course he could take, "unless
all semblance of a decent discipline in our
army is to be ended."

A S FOR the army officers, the full text of
•**• their report, as printed, fills 112 pages.
They go into minute details, such as the bul-
let marks in the houses, the direction from
which the shots came, the character of the
shattered bullets, shells and clips that were
found. Their conclusion is very positive that
a midnight assault was made by a number of
the soldiers upon citizens in their houses, one
man being instantly killed, another losing his
arm, and two women and five children only
escaping by a "miracle." In this conclusion,
it is said, the commissioned officers of the regi-
ment also concurred after examining the bul-

CURRENT LITERATURE

lets, shells and clips discovered. The investi-
gation made by the Constitutional League's
committee reaches a contrary opinion. That
committee lays the whole blame upon the mob
violence of Brownsville citizens, due to race
hatred, and asserts that no soldier was con-
nected with the rioting. Gilchrist Stewart
takes the same position, asserting that only six
men were absent from the battalion at the
time, and they were absent on leave. This
conclusion is based chiefly upon the roll-call
of the battalion made shortly after the riot
occurred, — eight minutes after, according to
the League's committee, and, according to
Major Penrose, in command, "at least ten
minutes after the first shots were fired; prob-
ably longer." The rioting was all within three
blocks of the barracks, and as the officers were
all under the impression at first that the regi-
ment was being attacked, the raiders, accord-
ing to the official investigation, "had an easy
time getting back," and had time also to clean
their rifles before the g^n racks were opened
and the rifles inspected. It is intimated, also,
that in the roll call any men absent could

be answered for by their comrades without
detection. All the efforts to secure evidence
from the soldiers as to the identity of the
guilty men proved in vain, and the officials
were convinced of collusion among a large
number of members of the battalion. The
dismissal "without honor" of all the soldiers
present at the time followed. The commander
and the commissioned officers and some of the
senior non-commissioned officers are held
blameless. But the President has, neverthe-
less, determined on a trial of the officers by
court martial.

"HTHAT is my fight, not Taft's," President
■*• Roosevelt is reported to have said re-
cently. The Secretary of War was, in fact,
absent in Cuba when the order of discharge
was determined upon. When he returned,
during the President's absence in Panama, pro-
tests were flooding the war office and petitions
for reopening the case were being urged. The
secretary even suspended execution of the
order for a day or two in order to hear from
the President. But if Taft ever had any doubt

CLOSED

— Mayer in N. Y. Times. _

SECRETARY TAFT ON DISCHARGE "WITHOUT HONOR"

as to the wisdom of the course taken, it seems
to have vanished entirely later on. A consid-
erable part of his annual report consists of a
statement of the facts and a defense of the
action taken, and his words are not lacking in
emphasis. "There can be no doubt," he says,
"that the squad of men who moved together
from the fort to the town and did this shooting
were guilty of murder and of murder in the
first degree." Referring then to the failure
to elicit any evidence leading to detection of
the guilty persons because of "a conspiracy
of silence on the part of the many who must
have known something of importance in this
regard," he adds:

"Under these circumstances the question arises,
Is the Government helpless? Must it continue in
its service a battalion many of the members of
which show their willingness to condone a crime
of a capital character committed by from ten to
twenty of its members, and put on a front of
silence and ignorance which enables the criminals
to escape just punishment? These enhsted men
took the oath of allegiance to the Government,
and were to be used under the law to maintain
its supremacy. Can the Government properly,
therefore, keep in its employ for the purpose of
maintaining law and order any longer a body of
men from five to ten per cent ol whom can plan
and commit murder, and rely upon the silence of a
number of their companions to escape detection?
. . . Because there may be innocent men in
the battalion, must the Government continue to
use it to guard communities of men, women, and
children when it contains so dangerous an ele-
ment impossible of detection? Certainly not."

ON THIS latter point, however, namely,
the fate of the innocent men in the
battalion, there is strong dissenting opinion.
That a heinous outrage was perpetrated by
some members of the battalion is not denied by
anybody, apparently, but the Constitutional
League and its followers, and its investiga-
tion was professedly ex parte. But granting
the guilt of the few, what sort of justice is it,
ask many prominent journals in the North, to
punish those who may have been guiltless
either of the outrage or of knowledge concern-
ing it? The New York World has called the
action of the President "a deliberate miscar-
riage of justice," and The World has not been
hostile to the President hitherto. The Cleve-
land Plain Dealer, another Democratic paper
that is fond of the President, calls his order
"ill-considered," "hasty," "precipitate." The
Philadelphia Public Ledger thinks "the most
elementary principles of fair-dealing and jus-
tice" have been violated. The New York Sun,
the New York Evening Post, the New York
Times and the Springfield Republican are some

of the many others that take this same view. The
Times condemns the action taken from the
point of legality, from the point of administra-
tive expediency and from the point of political
policy. On the first point — the one, by the
way, on which Senator Foraker seems prepar-
ing to make his contest — The Times says :

"It may safely be concluded that the Constitu-
tional safeguard of 'due process of law,' while it
does not protect against summary dismissal from
the military service, does protect against the arbi-
trary action of the Executive in assuming to in-
flict upon a discharged soldier, thus become a
civilian, the punishment without trial of a dis-
qualification for employment in the civil service,
even during the term of the President who issues
the order, and even more 'forever,' or after the
term of that President has expired. It seems,
therefore, that the President has clearly exceeded
his powers."

IN ANSWER to these objections. Secretary
■*■ Taft points to many details in the evidence
that have convinced so many investigators of
a conspiracy on the part of a large proportion
of the soldiers to protect the guilty, and he de-
fends the legality of the course taken with
the following bit of close reasoning:

"It is a mistake to suppose that this order is in
itself a punishment either of the innocent or oi
the guilty. A discharge would be an utterly in-
adequate punishment for those who are guilty
whether of committing the murder, or of with-
holding or suppressing evidence which would dis-
close the perpetrators of such a crime. The use
of the word penalty in the proceedings is a rnere
misnomer and is unfortunate. The dismissal
from the service of the members of this battalion
under the circumstances is not a punishrnent,
however great the hardship. There is a dismissal
technically known as a dishonorable discharge,
which is only imposed by sentence of a court.
This is a punishment. But the members of this
battalion were not dishonorably discharged. They
could not have been so discharged except after a
trial. They were discharged for the good of the
service, as the technical phrase is, 'without honor.'
It is not a fortunate phrase, because so easily con-
fused with a dishonorable discharge. It is called
'without honor' to distinguish the discharge from
a discharge with honor, or an honorable dis-
charge, which indicates the termination, in due
course, of a satisfactory service.

"But it is said that the order forbids re-entry
by the discharged men into the army or navy or
civil service, and this is a penalty. When an ern-
ploye is discharged for the good of the service it
naturally follows that he cannot be taken back,
and the President in formally stating this result
is not imposing a penalty in the proper sense of
the term. He is only laying down a rule of in-
eligibility for the service with respect to which it
is his Executive duty to prescribe the rules of
admission.

"Should hereafter facts be disclosed, or a new
state of facts arise from which it can be inferred
that the public service will suffer no detriment

CURRENT LITERATURE

from re-entry of any one of these men into the
service, his ineligibiHty can be removed by a mere
Executive order."

In other words, as explained at another
time by the Secretary, the disability to enter
the civil service is not imposed by the Presi-
dent as a legal disability, but "is a simple an-
nouncement of the policy of the President in
exercising his appointive povvrer during the
remainder of his administration."

ly^ ANY of the papers which criticize the dis-
^■^'- charge of the negro soldiers condemn
the efforts to make the affair appear as a race
matter, and scout the notion that President
Roosevelt is animated by race feeling. So far,
however, the attempt to have the subject con-
sidered as a matter of simple justice to indi-
viduals irrespective of their color has not been
brilliantly successful. In many cities negroes
have held meetings of protest, and the speeches
made have been bitter in the extreme, and the
assumption is almost invariably made that the
soldiers would not have been discharged if
they were white. "Probably the worst enemy
of these negro soldiers, who are on the whole
a fine lot of men," says the Washington corre-
spondent of the Chicago Tribune, "are the col-
ored preachers, politicians and agitators, men
and women, who have taken up the case wrong
end to. They persist in making it a racial
affair." One exception to this treatment
stands out conspicuously. That is the action
of a large African M. E. Church in Cincinnati
which passed resolutions upholding the Presi-
dent's course and denouncing the soldiers who
protected their guilty comrades from punish-
ment. But if the negroes are emphasizing the
racial aspects of the question they are not
alone in doing that. The Washington corre-
spondent of the New York Times refers to
the "almost unanimous opinion" of army offi-
cers that altho the President's action is "tre-
mendous and unheard of" the men in the negro
battalion have only themselves to blame and
are without ground of complaint. The corre-
spondent then adds :

"At the same time, more than one soft-voiced
reference has been made to-day to the luncheon
given to Booker T. Washington by the President
at the White House. No army officer will say
out loud what many of them believe, that that
incident had a great deal to do with the surprising
change in bearing that has taken place in the
negro regiments in the last few years. There is
plenty of comment on that change. It is usually
described as a strange development of 'cockiness'
on the part of the men. It has occurred in each

of the four negro regiments, and has caused a lot
of talk among army officers. It has been foreseen
that a crisis was coming which would necessitate
some form of severe discipline, and it has not
surprised officers familiar with the situation that
the Brownsville riots should have this result."

"YV/ITH the exception of Senator Tillman,
** who is said to be opposed to the Presi-
dent's course, the South has risen almost as
one man in support of his action. Congress-
man Slayden, of Texas, who has introduced
a bill to discharge from the service all negroes
who are enlisted men and to forbid enlisting
negroes hereafter, says that more than ninety-
five per cent, of the white people in the South
indorse the President's course. In Senator
Bailey's opinion, all the Southern representa-
tives and Senators will sustain the President.
The Atlanta Constitution says : "No action of
any President of the United States ever met
with more general or more unanimous ap-
proval on the part of the people of the South-
ern states than did that very just and neces
sary order of President Roosevelt dismissing
in disgrace the troops guilty of shielding from
the law a crowd of murderers and thugs."
Many of the Southern papers attribute the
whole trouble to an alleged racial trait of the
negro shown in shielding from punishment
men of his own race, whether in the army or
out of it. "It has for thirty years," says the
Atlanta Georgian, "been practically impossible
for officers of the law to get any except un-
willing information or evidence from negroes
against the criminal members of their race.
This ever existent attempt of the blacks to
prevent the carriage of justice has been one
of the chief causes of mob violence." But,
say the negroes in reply, the refusal to "peach"
on a comrade is not a trait peculiar to the
negro. It is a trait of white college boys, for
instance, Theodore Roosevelt, Jr., among
them ! And it is considered an especial virtue
among army men, beginning at West Point.
The Washington correspondent of the Chicago
Tribune finds indeed that this failure to induce
a single negro in the battalion to "peach" is
regarded by army officers in Washington as a
very creditable thing. He writes :

"Men who have served with negro troops and
who have old fashioned army notions of honor
insist that this is a feather in the cap of the
negro soldier, and that it will be remembered
to his credit in years to come that he gave up his
noncommissioned rank, his pay, his allowances,
and that sense of glory which the negro soldier
feels so intensely, rather than be regarded as a
'tell-tale' and 'peach.'"

THE DIPLOMATIC GAME IN WASHINGTON

THI-: AMERICAN GIRL WHO IS MISTRESS OF
THE GERMAN EMBASSY IN WASHINGTON

This lady is the wife of the German Ambassador,
and prior to her marriage she was Miss Lillian May
Langham, a Kentucky belle. The Baroness von
Sternberg combines distinction of manner and appear-
ance with an affability that has promoted her hus-
band's diplomatic career at every stage of his rapid
rise to distinction.

But the Macon Telegraph points out what it
considers an important distinction in the ethics
of the white and the ethics of the black soldiers
in this matter of "peaching." It says :

"Had these three companies been white sol-
diers, and had a portion of their number com-
mitted this dastardly outrage, their comrades
might not have 'peached' on the cnrnmals, but
they most certainly would not have lied in an-
swering proper questions put to them and thus
have saved the guilty men from detection. The
race feeling among the negroes caused them to
take this latter course, and thus identify thern-
selves with the criminals, making themselves, m
point of law, accessories after the fact."

" SPECKIE "
This is the nickname given to the German Ambassa-
dor in Washington, Baron Speck von Sternberg, by
the President of the United States. The Baron is here
shown in the uniform donned by him for such special
occasions as the reception of the diplomatic corps by
Mr. Roosevelt. Baron Speck von Sternberg is on
more intimate terms with the head of the United
States government than any other diplomatist in
Washington.

NDER a cloud Sir Henry Morti-
mer Durand retires from the post
of His Britannic Majesty's Ambas-
sador in the city of Washington.
The London press trumpets the fact. Sir
Mortimer, as he is called, failed, during the
three years of his diplomatic activity at what
he has himself styled "the most important dip-
lomatic center in the world," to establish him-
self upon terms of adequate cordiality with
President Roosevelt. The London Telegraph
says it. The London Outlook reiterates
it. The fault was not Sir' Mortimer's. Nor
was President Roosevelt to blame. The con-

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE DEPARTING AMBASSADRESS

Lady Durand, wife of the retiring British Ambas-
sador in Washington, is deemed an ideal type of
the well-born English lady. As mistress of the Em-
bassy in Washington she has presided with tact at
a table frequently honored by the presence of the
Foreign Relations Committee of the United States
Senate. Lady Durand is soon to sail for England.

sequences, none the less, seem serious. Only
a nation as indifferent to foreign relations as
ourselves could fail to note what the Paris
Temps averred last year, what the Berlin
Kreuz Zeitung proclaimed last summer, what
all London organs said last month — namely,
to employ the phraseology of the London
Telegraph, that "by some imperceptible proc-
ess the former warmth of Anglo-American
relations has caught a slight chill." It is a
quintessential coldness, felt but indefinable,
traceable, as the London Outlook laments, to
the difficulty that the British Ambassador was
not adjusted to President Roosevelt's tempera-

ment. "Sir Mortimer has not found himself
able to see eye to eye with the present gov-
ernment on certain broad matters of Anglo-
American policy." London, insinuates this
oracle, clings too fondly to "some fantastic
hope of procuring American good will" by
sacrificing the interests of Canada and New-
foundland at the Rooseveltian shrine. Sir
Mortimer wanted to talk truculently. London
would not let him. Not to mince matters,
London has lost confidence in Sir Mortimer.
He has failed to break the spell of that in-
fatuation for Emperor William and for Ho-
henzollern world policy which speaks volumes
for the capacity of the German Ambassador
in Washington, Baron Speck von Sternberg.

PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT is now so
■^ estranged from Great Britain, so the
London Telegraph and the London Outlook
agree, that he threw his influence "undisguis-
edly" against her in the Morocco conference
of the powers. He seems to be working
against Great Britain in the Far East. It is
hinted that he has been placing difficulties in
the way of British action in the Congo. It
is predicted that he will antagonize Great Brit-
ain at The Hague when the peace conference
assembles this spring. Rightly or wrongly, in
a word, English students of world politics
tend to agree that President Roosevelt is not
merely anti-British but disposed to further
the international aims of Emperor William.
"There is perhaps no European ruler or
statesman," explains the London Outlook,
"for whom the President feels the instinctive
and thorogoing sympathy and admiration he
has often expressed for the Kaiser. The two
men understand each other; they are personal
and, in a sense, political affinities; and they
correspond with a regularity and freedom that
at least insures a full and persuasive presenta-
tion of the German point of view." How felic-
itously, we are invited to note, the German
Ambassador in Washington enhances the elec-
tiveness of the affinity in question! Baron
Sternberg is all that Sir Mortimer is not. The
Baron happens to be one of Mr. Roosevelt's
old chums. Sir Mortimer is still a stranger
in the land to which he was accredited three
years ago. Baron Sternberg throws himself
into the strenuous life while cultivating the
utmost geniality of characterization in his
after-dinner oratory. Sir Mortimer is an Eng-
lish gentleman of the old school, with urban-
ity certainly, but a too dignified urbanity ; with
tact, of course, but the tact lacks spontaneity.
Where the Baron would slap you on the back

THE PRESIDENT'S "ESTRANGEMENT" FROM GREAT BRITAIN 17

with a loud "Hello !" or evince "extraordinary
staying power in the genial employment of
shaking a countless democracy by the hand,"
Sir Mortimer, with his quiet air of self-efface-
ment, would seem frigid.

nn HO the German Ambassador rides with
•*■ the President — "whose ideas," comments
the London daily from which this detail
is taken, "like those of most men of vital
personality and strong physique, work power-
fully in the open air" — and tho the French
Ambassador plays tennis with the President,
the unfortunate Sir Mortimer has had to put
up with occasional hurried facilities for saying
"how d'ye do" to the President. The British
Ambassador was quite himself at the proud
and punctilious court of Spain, whence he
had the ill luck to be transferred to a Roose-
veltized Washington. He was, by the way,
the first diplomatist already holding ambas-
sadorial rank ever transferred to our national
capital. In Washington Sir Mortimer found

everything against him. His suavity was so
self-contained as to seem pompous. His quiet-
ness had a suggestion of reserve that looked
aristocratic. His career was too British to
win prestige in this country. The success of
his mission to the Amir of Afghanistan made
him a great man in Calcutta and was referred
to in flattering terms while he sojourned in
Madrid; but nobody had ever heard of it at
Washington. Sir Mortimer had the crown-
ing misfortune to be out of touch with the
United States Senate. The diplomatists of
the Old World have made up their minds that
this republic is really ruled by the Senate at
Washington. It is the business of an ambas-
sador to be on terms of as delightful intimacy
as possible with the Lodges, the Aldriches,
the Allisons and the rest. The theory is that
the fate of important treaties is decided not
at the Department of State but by the Foreign
Relations Commitee. Sir Mortimer could make
nothing of this. He never got into touch with
Washington society. The only social life he

THE CRICKETING AMBASSADOR

He sits in the center of this trio, being no less eminent a diplomatist than Sir Henry Mortimer Durand, who
has to all intents and purposes relinquished the post of his Britannic Majesty's Ambassador in Washington. Sir
Mortimer is a great lover of cricket and organized an eleven at Lenox. At Sir Mortimer's right sits Mr.
Carlos M. de Heredia, and at Sir Mortimer's left is Mr. T. Chesley Richardson, both of whom have tried the
prowess of the diplomatist as a cricketer. It has been suggested in London that had Sir Mortimer loved cricket
less and tennis more his prestige with the President might have been higher.

CURRENT LITERATURE

ever enjoyed was at Lenox. There he spent
his summers. Even his favorite sport was
against him. He cricketed. President Roose-
velt does not cricket.

IN ALL that relates to ambassadors, Presi-
^ dent Roosevelt, observes a writer in the
Vienna Neiie Freie Presse, has shown him-
self more European than American. In the
courts of the Old World all diplomatists hold-

SHE WAS HAILED FOR A TIME AS THIRD
LADY IN THE LAND

Her husband, the Austro -Hungarian Ambassador
in Washing:ton, recently ranked as dean of the di-
plomatic corps. This circumstance gave him prece-
dence immediately after the Vice-President of the
United States. The Baroness Hengelmuller ranks in
her native country as a Countess, being related to
some of the oldest houses in Europe.

ENVOY EXTRAORDINARY AND AMBASSA-
DOR PLENIPOTENTIARY FROM AUS-
TRIA-HUNGARY

Such is the official desigriation of_ Baron Hengel-
muller in Washington. He is accredited here as the
personal representative of the King of Hungary and
Austrian Emperor. He is a warm admirer of Presi-
dent Roosevelt and a familiar figure at the White
House.

ing ambassadorial rank are regarded as mem-
bers of the sovereign's intimate personal cir
cle. . A mere minister or envoy extraordinary
is on a far less familiar footing. Even the
Hapsburgs, who deem themselves the choicest
exemplars of royalty alive, treat an ambassa-
dor deferentially. In Greece the reigning dy-
nasty almost makes an ambassador a member
of the royal family for the time being. In
Spain he is requested to give his valuable opin-
ion regarding the disposal of the heir to the
throne in marriage. He attends at the palace
on each of those happy occasions to which the
consort of Alphonso XIII is now looking for-
ward. A European monarch expects to be
asked for his approval of any personage whom
a brother potentate proposes to accredit to his
court with ambassadorial rank. Our own De-
partment of State felt called upon years ago

TREATMENT OF AMBASSADORS IN WASHINGTON

to intimate to European chancelleries that
"this government does not require other
powers to ask in advance if contemplated
appointments ,of ministers will or will not be
acceptable." But President Roosevelt, if all
that is rumored iii Europe be true, has modi-
fied this practice. No foreign power now
accredits an ambassador to Washington with-
out first ascertaining that the diplomatist to be
sent is satisfactory to President Roosevelt per-
sonally. The President, on his side, follows
the European practice in his relations with
ambassadors. They enjoy a familiarity of in-
tercourse with the chief magistrate to which
the whole history of our government affords
no parallel. The importance given to ambas-
sadors by the Roosevelt administration has

ANOTHER AMERICAN WHOSE HUSBAND IS
AN AMBASSADOR IN WASHINGTON

She is Madame Jusserand, wife of the representa-
tive of the French republic in Washin^on. She was
a Miss Elise Richards, whose ancestry includes a long
line of Southerners distinguished in political life,_ and
an equally long line of New Englanders distinguished
in every field.

CMp)rij4ht I'y \\ .ildon Fawcelt, Washington, D. C.

HE PLAYS TENNIS WITH THE PRESIDENT

This is Jean Adrien Antoine Jules Jusserand, am-
bassador from the French republic to the United
States. He is pne of the first living authorities on
English literature and especially renowned as a stu-
dent of Spenser, the poet. M. Jusserand is one of
the President's chums, the two men spending much
time in talking literature or in playing tennis together.

caused more than one embarrassing compli-
cation.

HTHERE was "a scandalous scene" in the
•'■ Senate chamber, notes former Secre-
tary of State Foster, in his new work on
"The Practice of Diplomacy," on the first in-
auguration day following the appointment of
ambassadors. Subordinate officials were so
eager to manifest respect for "these newly
created and exalted dignitaries" that all the
ordinary diplomatists were overlooked. They
were allowed to get home as best they could
without an opportunity to witness the inaugu-
ration at all. The ambassadors have likewise
come into collision with the United States
Supreme Court and even with the Vice-Presi-
dent of the United States in their determina-
tion to obtain a precedence to which the
monarchical traditions of Europe entitle them.

CURRENT LITERATURE

Mr. Foster affirms that the legislation affect-
ing ambassadors was smuggled through Con-
gress in one of the regular appropriation bills.
"If its effect in changing the practice of the
government for a hundred years had been
made known at the time," he says, "it is ex-
tremely doubtful that it would have secured
the approval of Congress." Mr. Roosevelt,
however, has invariably sided with the ambas-
sadors in the efforts of those diplomatists to
adapt the social usages of Washington to the
traditions of their calling. He has followed
the European practice of sending a "state
coach" for a newly arrived ambassador. In
Europe the custom is for a master of cere-
monies to call with the state coach at the
residence of a newly arrived ambassador to
escort him into the presence of the potentate
to whom he is accredited. President Roose-
velt has fallen in with this etiquette. His
military aide goes in the President's personal
carriage with liveried footmen to the embassy
that happens to house a fresh incumbent. The
new ambassador is taken ceremoniously into
the executive presence. Officers in the dress
uniform of their rank add pomp to the cere-
monies. President Jefferson left newly ar-
rived diplomatists to find their way to the
White House for themselves. He welcomed
them in old clothes and slippers down at heel.
But ambassadors were not accredited to Wash-
ington in his time.

"VV/IDE is the gate and broad is the way
^^ that leadeth those of ambassadorial
rank to President Roosevelt's favor; but Sir
Mortimer Durand has not been among the
many which go in thereat. In their quests for
the key to this mystery, the organs of Lon-
don opinion acquit the diplomatist of all per-
sonal responsibility. But a writer in The
Standard can not help wondering if Sir Mor-
timer quite appreciates that the official at-
mosphere of Washington just now is Byzan-
tine. Theodore Roosevelt, in all that he says
and does, is actuated by the noblest and most
disinterested motives. But he knows it. If
he forgot it for a single instant he would be
reminded of it by the men he has about him.
To appreciate conditions at the national capi-
tal one must study a certain catechism. Who
is the greatest living American? Theodore
Roosevelt. Who combines Bismarckian di-
rectness and vitality with the pure patriotism
of Washington? Theodore Roosevelt. Who
wields the dominating influence upon this na-
tion ? Theodore Roosevelt. To the study of
this catechism Sir Mortimer is held to bring

the spirit of those Athenians who grew sick of
hearing Aristides called the just. "In the
last couple of years," to quote the London
Outlook once more, "the British Ambassador,
to use an expressive colloquialism, has been
rather out of it." There has been some "subtle,
imperceptible and unintended process" at
work. The place held by a former British
Ambassador in the President's esteem has
been taken by Baron Speck von Sternberg,
who has not only got the official catechism by
heart but has taught it to William II. "Theo-
dore Roosevelt," declared the German Em-
peror, when Professor Burgess pronounced
the Monroe Doctrine out of date, "is the great-
est President the United States has ever had."
As, in his daily prayers, the Mussulman of
Fez or Delhi still turns his face towards the
temple of Mecca, the imperial Hohenzollern
eye shall be always fixed on the great Ameri-
can model. The British Ambassador may be
"rather out of it," but William II, as our Lon-
don contemporaries jealously reason, is re-
solved to be "right in it."

'T'HE British embassy at the seat of Roose-
■■■ veltdom having forfeited the prestige
that made it glorious under Lord Pauncefote,
the British Foreign Office is warned by every
London daily that Sir Mortimer Durand's suc-
cessor— to be sent over, it seems, next March
— must add to a hatred of race suicide the
utmost possible prowess as a hunter of bears.
He must throw himself into the strenuous
life, like Baron Speck von Sternberg. He
ought to possess, as the French ambassador in
Washington possesses, according to the Lon-
dont Outlook, "the profound insight into the
spirit of our literature which Voltaire lacked
and Taine affected." Should Sir Mortimer
Durand's successor admire "The Winning of
the West" as profoundly as the French Am-
bassador admires it, the consequences to
Anglo-American diplomatic relations must be
incalculable. "The new ambassador ought to
be young, vigorous and rich," affirms the Brit-
ish weekly, "and the ambassador's wife ought
to be a charming hostess." What England
needs in Washington is a man "as little like
a professional diplomatist as possible," a man
"capable of climbing Mount Ararat and of
astonishing such a formidable pedestrian as
President Roosevelt," yet having literary gifts
of an admirable but unoppressive kind. "Mr.
Bryce, whose name, we observe, has been
mentioned in the United States," adds the
London Telegraph, "has written a great trea-
tise upon the constitution of the republic, but

THE STORY OF THE STORERS

would be a little out of touch
both with the vigorous impe-
rialism which actuates every
fiber of the President's being,
and with practical democracy
among the American people. If
a writer were chosen, which we
hope, on the whole, will not be
the case, Mr. John Morley
would better represent one side
of letters and Mr. Rudyard Kip-
ling another." No daily has
suggested George Bernard
Shaw. Marie Corelli is, of
course, impossible on account
of her sex. The present Gov-
ernor-General of Canada, Lord
Grey, is a warm favorite be-
cause he considers Mr. Roose-
velt the greatest ruler this coun-
try has ever had. However,
there is scarcely a notability in
England without a modicum of
newspaper support in the • gen-
eral anxiety to overwhelm the
President by departing as wide-
ly from the conventional type of
diplomatist as the situation re-
quires. A number of journals
have Bryce already appointed.

ITHOUT any prelim-
inary advertising the
story of the Storers burst upon an
unprepared world and ran its course
as a highly successful serial. Like all good
dramas, it combines elements of comedy and of
tragedy, and moves one to tears and laughter
alternately. It is a tale of intrigue in which
one ambitious and energetic woman involves
two Presidents, a Pope, an archbishop and an
ambassador, and wrecks the hopes of those
dearest to her. Mr. Bellamy Storer comes out
of it about as thoroly discredited a diplomat
as ever wore a dress coat, and Archbishop
Ireland finds himself, through no apparent
fault of his own, so far away from a cardinal's
hat that it might almost as well be resting on
the North Pole so far as he is concerned. He
is, as many journals observe, the real victim
of the affair. The sympathy of the public is
divided between him and Bellamy Storer; in
the case of the latter, however, the sympathy
is disguised at times under an air of unholy
merriment. Here, for instance, is the irrever-
ent comment made by The North American
(Philadelphia) :

THE STORER INCIDENT

— McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune.

"Many persons criticize the Roman Church for
insisting upon sacerdotal celibacy. But every
now and then something happens to afiford a
measure of justification for this policy. The
rules of the Church are far-sighted. They know
human nature. They have, no doubt, in the flown
centuries considered the awful possibility that a
Mrs. Storer might one day emerge from chaos.

"As for Bellamy himself the world will perhaps
incline to think him much to blame. But con-
siderate married men of long experience will
surely find reason for regarding him with mourn-
ful sympathy. Clearly, Bellamy has learned his
lesson, and with cowed and beaten spirit fully un-
derstands that his function is simply to come
along. ...

"The American people have read with unusual
interest the literature of this comedy. Many hus-
bands, no doubt, have heaved a sigh or two while
inwardly rejoicing at the revelation that there are
other men in the toils and absolutely condemned
to lives of complete self-surrender.

"The worst of the thing is that the revelation
may tend to check the movement toward matri-
mony. It is a solemn moment for a timid young
man about to marry to read this correspondence,
to consider Bellamy and to try to estimate all the
actual possibilities of indissoluble conjugal union.

"Will it not be the bitterest irony of Fate if
Mr. Roosevelt's wrestle with the Storers should

CURRENT LITERATURE

HHi-.:<'M.. ' ':'|BH|

^^ • . ^

THE LAUY WHOM PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT
ADDRESSED BY HER FIRST NAME
Mrs. Bellamy Storer, whose attitude in clerical af-
fairs at the Vatican led to recent sensational person-
alities between her husband and the President, is
said to combine the shrewdness of the man of business
with the charm of the born society leader.

really tend to the promotion of the race suicide
which he regards with so great horror?"

•T HAT presents in facetious guise what is
* really a serious and deplorable incident in
international diplomacy. The important part
of it, to most of us, is the part played by the
head of the nation and the revelation made
that even in American diplomacy ecclesiastical
affairs have been, for a time at least, disas-
trously intertwined. The first chapter in the
story, as it has recently developed before
the public, was published in the Chicago Trib-
une. It was a resume of a long letter ad-
dressed by Bellamy Storer, ex-ambassador to
Austria-Hungary, to the President, copies of
which were sent to the members of the Cabi-
net and of the Senate committee on foreign
relations a few weeks ago. It purported to
be an account of the recent summary dis-
missal of Mr. Storer from the diplomatic ser-
vice, by a cablegram from the President, and
contained copies of correspondence between
the President and Mr. and Mrs. Storer lead-

ing up to this dismissal. The second chapter
.of the serial consisted of a long letter (filling
nearly five columns in the newspapers) from
President Roosevelt, addressed to Secretary
Root, in answer to Mr. Storer, and contain-
ing more of the fateful correspondence. Mrs.
Storer is the aunt of Nicholas Longworth,
whose marriage to Alice Roosevelt is still
fresh in the public mind, and the correspond-
ence thus dragged into public for the whole
world to read is of the most confidential char-
acter. In it the President expresses with the
utmost frankness his views of various mem-
bers of his cabinet and of the diplomatic serv-
ice. It is "Dear Bellamy," and "Dear Theo-
dore," and "Love to Maria" all through, and
its publication, for which the Storers are pre-
sumed to be to blame, has elicited censure
for them from all directions.

IT APPEARS that as long ago as 1899, when
* Mr. Roosevelt was Governor of New York
State, the Storers, who are Roman Catholics,
requested his aid to secure from the Vatican
a Cardinal's hat for Archbishop Ireland. Mr.
Roosevelt, having a high idea of the Arch-
bishop and, as he now says, "not being Presi-
dent myself, and not having thought out with
clearness the exact situation," wrote to Presi-
dent McKinley asking if the latter could prop-
erly help along the project. Four days later
(March 27, 1899), he wrote to Mrs. Storer
explaining why he could not send a cable-
gram to be used in Archbishop Ireland's be-
half, saying that he could not see "where it
would end," if he interfered directly in the
matter. He added:

"If I make a request or express a desire in such
form as to make them seem like requests, I in-
evitably put myself under certain obligations, and
I do not quite know what these obligations are.

"I have written to the President stating my
belief that it would be a most fortunate thing for
this country, and I believe an especially fortunate
thing for the Catholics of this country, if Arch-
bishop Ireland could be made a cardinal.

"I feel this precisely because of what may be
done in the Philippines and in other tropic col-
onies. I am strongly of opinion that the uplift-
ing of the people in these tropic islands must
come chiefly through making them better Catho-
lics and better citizens, and that on the one hand
we shall have to guard against the reactionary
Catholics who would oppose the correction of
abuses in the ecclesiastic arrangement of the
islands, and on the other guard against any Prot-
estant fanaticism which will give trouble anyhow,
and which may be fanned into a dangerous flame
if the above mentioned Catholic reactionaries are
put into control. On every account I should feel
that the election of Archbishop Ireland to the

THE CARDINAL'S HAT AND THE AMBASSADOR'S WIFE

cardinalate would be a most fortunate thing for
us in the United States, Catholics and non-Cath-
olics alike."

Mrs. Storer was given the privilege of show-
ing but not of printing this letter. A year
later, April 30, 1900, another letter of similar
tenor was written to Mrs. Storer. Mr. Roose-
velt was then engaged, as he puts it, "in trying
not to be made Vice-President." The writing
of these letters, he afterwards concluded, was
a mistake, because they might be so easily mis-
construed, and he wrote to the Storers to that
effect several times.

C O FAR the accounts agree. Then they be-
*^ gin to diverge. According to both, no
letters were written in the Archbishop's behalf
by Mr. Roosevelt after he was elected Vice-
President in 1900. But Mr. Storer declares
that he was commissioned verbally, in 1902,
by President Roosevelt, to say to the Pope in
person that he (the President) would be
pleased if the Archbishop were to be made a
cardinal. This the President absolutely de-
nies, labeling the statement "not only an un-
truth but an absurd untruth." In a letter
November 23, 1900, Mr. Roosevelt, then Vice-
President elect, explained at length why
neither he nor President McKinley could take
any hand in Mrs. Storer's game, while both
sympathized with her efforts. The President
can no more interfere in the making of a Ro-
man Catholic cardinal, he declared, than in
the making of a Methodist bishop, and in il-
lustrating this point he speaks in an unguarded
aside of the "fool type" of clergymen who
"denounce the President because he will not
encourage drunkenness in the army by putting
down the canteen." This position of non-in-
terference in ecclesiastical affairs, he says, he
maintained at all times, in all private conver-
sations as well as in all letters from that on;
and, furthermore, President McKinley main-
tained the same position. Here again is raised
a question of accuracy. Mr. Storer asserts
that President McKinley commissioned Bishop
O'Gorman to say to the Pope that the pro-
motion of Archbishop Ireland would be a per-
sonal favor to the President as well as an
honor to the country. Secretary Cortelyou,
who was President McKinley's private secre-
tary, denies that the former ever commis-
sioned Bishop O'Gorman or anyone else to
speak for him in such a matter, but was
"scrupulously particular" to keep out of such
affairs, tho having the highest personal re-
gard for the Archbishop.

• DEAR BELLAMY "

Hon. Bellamy Storer is described as an unambitious
dilettante when he married Mis. Nichols, nee Maria
Longworth. She infused ambition into him and he
was pursuing a triumphant diplomatic career when it
was suddenly wrecked by his wife's excess of zeal in
Archbishop Ireland's behalf.

LJ ERE is an interesting extract from a letter
defining President Roosevelt's position,
written May 18, 1900, to Mrs. Storer, in re-
sponse to a protest from her against the going
of Protestant missionaries to the Philippines.
He explains the impossibility of his interfer-
ence in such a matter and goes on to say:

"Now, I very earnestly wish that Archbishop
Ireland, and those who are most advanced among
our Catholic priests — men like the Paulist
Fathers, for instance — should be given a free hand
in these islands, and should be advanced in every
way. . . . But you must remember how ham-
pered I am in writing from the fact that I do
not like to see any one admit for a moment the
right of a foreign potentate to interfere in
American public policy. For instance, you speak
of the Pope being angry with Archbishop Ireland
for not stopping the war with Spain. As far as
I am concerned I would resent as an impertinence
any European, whether Pope, Kaiser, Czar, or
President, daring to be angry with any American
because of his action or rion-action as regards any
question between America and an outside na-
tion. No pretension of this kind should be ad-
mitted for one moment. If any man, clerical or
lay, bishop, archbishop, priest, or civilian, was
in any way guilty of treasonable practices with

CURRENT LITERATURE

Spain during our war, he should be shot or hung,
and it is an outrage on justice that he should be
at large. But I cannot write in a way that will
seem to defend a man for not averting war with
Spain, for I cannot recognize for a single mo-
ment the right of any European to so much as
think that there is need of defense or excuse in
such a case.

"As you know, I always treat Catholic and
•Protestant exactly alike, as I do Jew or Gentile,
or as I do the man of native America, German,
Irish, or any other kind of parentage. Any dis-
crimination for or against a man because of his
creed or nativity strikes me as an infamy."

So far as documentary evidence is con-
cerned, Mr. Roosevelt maintained this posi-
tion absolutely, after being elected Vice-Presi-
dent.

cable and not receiving it, ordered his sum-
mary recall, " the most humiliating end of an
ambassador's career."

r^ID he maintain the same attitude in con-
*-^ versation? This is really the vital point
in the whole controversy. The President
says positively that he- did and Mr. and
Mrs. Storer affirm that he did not, but
that he authorized them to speak for him
to the Pope, and, as well, authorized Mgr.
O'Connell and Cardinal Satolli at other times
to do the same. Mr. Storer asserts that he
spoke to the Pope and wrote a report of the
interview to the President. The President
asserts that no such report was ever received
by him or by Mr. Loeb, his secretary. Mr.
Storer asserts that the President not only
authorized him, verbally, to speak to the Pope,
but told Archbishop Ireland what he had
done, and, in evidence of this, Storer quotes
from a letter which he says the Archbishop
wrote to Mrs. Storer in December, 1903. Here
is the passage quoted from the letter:

"The President said to me, 'Mr. Storer has told
you what I said about you, Archbishop?'

"I replied, 'I do not remember '

"'About his going to Rome?'

"I said 'No.'

" 'Well,' he said, I told him I would not write
a letter to the Pope asking for honors to you but
I said that he could go to Rome and say, viva
voce, to the Pope, how much I wish you to be
cardinal, and how grateful I personally would be
to him for giving you that honor.' "

It was for carrying out this request, accord-
ing to Mr. Storer, that he was summarily and
humiliatingly dismissed from the diplomatic
service. According to the President, the sum-
mary dismissal was for the refusal to answer
the President's letters, requiring that certain
steps be taken by Mrs. Storer to undo what
had been done to compromise the administra-
tion. Not receiving a reply, the President
cabled for Mr. Storer's resignation. It was
sent by mail, but the President, expecting it by

IN DEALING with the issues raised in this
correspondence, the press seem generally
disposed to accept the President's statements,
as made in his letters, concerning his attitude
of non-interference in church politics. Most
of the criticism of his course concerns the
method of dismissal of Mr. Storer, which by
many is considered to have been not only
unduly harsh but inexpedient as well in that
the resentment it caused has led to the pub-
lication of this correspondence. Another line
of criticism of the President is for having
retained Storer in office as long as he did.
Still other journals regret the fact that so
many questions of veracity have been raised
at various times in correspondence between
President Roosevelt and other men. It is
clear, says the New York Evening Post, that
Mrs. Storer was "a gushing intriguer" and
Mr. Storer "a despicable character," but why
was the President so long in finding it out,
and why did he place himself in their hands
with such "incredibly reckless letters"?
"Storer ought to have been thrown out of the
diplomatic service in 1903, not in 1906," says
the New York Press, and it thinks there will
be no doubt in the public mind that the Presi-
dent "kept himself free at all times from the
entanglements of ecclesiastical politics." "In-
cidentally," remarks the Cleveland Plain
Dealer, "the afifair illustrates again the not
always happy results arising from the inter-
vention in politics and diplomacy of the eter-
nal feminine." The New York Times says:

"It is plain that after he [Mr. Roosevelt] be-
came even remotely connected with the National
Administration, he not only ceased to express
any interest in the matter of the Cardinalship,
but he took pains to make it clear to the Storers
why he ceased to do so and the principle that
must necessarily guide his conduct. When Mr.
Storer insisted on ignoring this position of the
President and did so in the peculiar way described
in the correspondence, there was nothing for the
President to do but to 'separate him from the
service.' "

HTHE Louisville Courier Journal takes about
the same view as that just quoted. Not
so the New York Sun. "Mr. Roosevelt's in-
temperate denial," it thinks, "is ineflFective and
leaves all the graver elements in the case un-
answered, or at best ignored." In elaborating
this view, however. The Sun confines its criti-
cism to one element in the case, the summary
method by which the ambassador was dis-

THE VATICAN AND THE FRENCH REPUBLIC

missed. A characteristically careful analysis
is made of the case by the Springfield Repub-
lican. It also condemns the summary dis-
missal as "absurdly disproportionate" to Mr.
Storer's offense. The question of supreme im-
portance, however, it considers to be whether
the government of the United States has been
seeking directly or indirectly to influence the
Vatican in its choice of cardinals. On this
point it finds the President's statement at once
"highly reassuring" and "inadequate." Mr.
Cortelyou's denial of President McKinley's
intervention does not suffice, for the assump-
tion that President McKinley had no secrets
from his secretary is absurd. As for Mr.
Roosevelt's own course, it points out that some-
thing from Mgr. O'Connell and Archbishop
Ireland in confirmation of the President's state-
ments is highly desirable, and it suggests to
the President that he request a statement from
each of them on the subject.

nPHE career of the Storers, especially of
■*■ Mrs. Storer, has been of jnore social than
political importance. She was the only daugh-
ter of Joseph Longworth, of Cincinnati, be-
longing to a family of social and financial
prominence. She first married George Ward
Nichols, who is described as "a brilliant man
but not an especially active one." They had
two children, and one of them is now Marquise
de Chambrun. Mr. and Mrs. Nichols proved
incompatible and were divorced. Bellamy
Storer, the son of a judge who achieved na-
tional reputation, is described as "a dilettante,
a dabbler in the arts and graces, but a man
without striking force." After he and the
former Mrs. Nichols were married, her am-
bitions spurred him on. She had activity for
two. She was the founder of the Rookwood
Pottery, an active patron of the Cincinnati Art
Museum, and keenly interested in the estab-
lishment of nurses' training schools. When
she was converted to the Roman Catholic faith
by Archbishop Ireland all her other activities
paled in comparison with that for her church.
Storer first entered politics as candidate for
Congress, made such by George B. Cox. He
achieved a fair degree of prominence in two
terms and then, as a result of inattention to
Cox, was dropped out of office. He was nomi-
nated by President McKinley for first assistant
secretary of state, but Senator Foraker suc-
ceeded in preventing his confirmation. Mc-
Kinley asked Foraker if he would consent to
Storer's appointment to a foreign post. "Cer-
tainly," said Foraker, "and the foreigner the

better." That was the beginning of a diplo-
matic career that is now, undoubtedly, ended
for ever.

OT since the wall near the Porta Pia
crumbled before the artillery of
Victor Immanuel and the white flag
was hoisted over the Vatican at the
bidding of a Pope, has the seat of the sov-
ereign pontiffs witnessed such excitement as
attended the receipt of despatch after despatch
announcing to the Cardinal Secretary of State
in Rome the progress of open war upon the
Holy See by the eldest daughter of the church.
Monsignor Montagnini, secretary to the papal
nunciature in the French capital, had been
taken into custody by the police and hustled
aboard a train bound for the frontier. A
papal courier, carrying Vatican despatches,
was halted by the soldiery as he set foot upon
the soil of the third republic and bidden to
return whence he came. Ecclesiastical dig-
nitaries of the highest rank were undergoing a
process of eviction in every diocese. All the
theological seminaries had been invaded by
bailiffs, come to summon divinity students to
the colors. The greatest affront of all was a
violation of that extra-territoriality which the
Pope, in his sovereign capacity, claims for
the diplomatic establishment maintained in
Paris since the nuncio was ordered from
France months ago. Long after the usual
hour for the invalid Pope's retirement to his
tiny cot had come and gone, his Holiness sat
in consultation with that tried instrument of
his policy. Cardinal Merry del Val. Both had,
seemingly, been taken completely by surprise
at the progress of events in Paris. In all the
Vatican .Cardinal Rampolla alone appears to
have foreseen how relentlessly Prime Minister
Clemenceau would enforce that separation of
church and state which became legally effec-
tive in the fortnight preceding Christmas.

IF THE medievally papal temperament of
*- Cardinal Raphael Merry del Val be sound-
ly gauged in Rome, he was at this time sug-
gesting to Pius X that all France be laid
under an interdict. This would mean, in
effect, a general excommunication. During the
period of its application there would be a
complete suspension of all Roman Catholic re-
ligious exercises, with very few exceptions,
throughout the third republic. The London
Spectator surmised, of late, that the Pope has
considered so extreme a step. Cardinal Merry
del Val is deemed the very type of ecclesiastic

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE DOMIx\ANT PERSONALITY IN THE PARIS
UPHEAVAL

Aristide Briand, French Minister of Education and
of art and cults, was compelled to put separation of
church and state into effect throughout the third
republic last month.

to have urged it now. His diplomacy ever
since his assumption, at the unprecedented!}'
early age of thirty-eight, of the secretaryship
of state for foreign affairs, has been inspired
by a theory that the third French repubHc is
contumaciously godless. Nature never ab-
horred a vacuum as Merry del Val detests sep-
aration of church and state. In all that con-
cerns the attitude of the Vatican to anticlerical
Paris, he has been the antithesis of his pred-
ecessor in office, the conciliatory Cardinal
Rampolla, who received every blow frgm the
eldest daughter of the church with a holy
kiss. Merry del Val is described in the Figaro
a.s a Cardinal who would shine in the salon
of an ambassadress. He ' might figure with
effect in a romance by Bourget. He is the
most simply pious of living ecclesiastics, unaf-
fectedly humble, firmly persuaded that the
scarlet of his distinctive dress signifies that
he ought to be ready at any moment to shed
his blood for the faith and the church. He
is the most cosmopolitan of the many cos-
mopolitans at the Vatican. The Cardinal has
an intimate acquaintance with Ireland — there

is Irish blood in the veins of his mother, who
is a convert to Catholicism. He is at home
in England — his mother is partly English. In
France, Belgium, Italy and Spain he has many
near relatives. His linguistic attainments are
prodigious. He has acted as tutor to sprigs
of Spanish and Austrian royalty, leading at
the courts of Madrid and Vienna a life so
ascetic that his health was impaired. The
Cardinal's father was Spanish minister in Lon-
don years ago. Leo XIII took a fancy to
this young ecclesiastic because of the purity
of his Latin prose, the distinction of his per-
sonal appearance and the spotless purity of his
character. Yet Merry del Val remains the
least popular of Vatican dignitaries.

IF VATICAN secrets are an open book to
*■ the Clemenceau ministry as a result of the
forcible seizure of the nunciature archives by
the Paris police last month. Merry del Val
must be held responsible. Thus, argues the
Lanterne, the Cardinal's foe, while his well

THE VATICAN SECRETARY OF STATE
Cardinal Raphael Merry del Val, one of the young-
est members of the Sacred College, has been in charge
of the correspondence which led to the rupture be-
tween church and state in France.

THE INFLUENCE OF CARDINAL MERRY DEL VAL

wisher, the moderate and officially inspired
TempSj reasons to the same effect. It was
the papal secretary of state who urged the
Pope to ban the cultural associations. The
law has organized them somewhat after the
pattern of those boards of trustees which play
so important a part among the Presbyterian
bodies of our own land. But to justify the
Pope's rejection of the associations "cul-
tuelles," says the Temps, they must be shown to
conflict with recognized ecclesiastical discipline
"Vainly," we are told, "did the French gov-
ernment strive to prove that it was furthest
from the thought of the law-makers to effect
the slightest breach in ecclesiastical disci-
pline." Vainly, contends the same authority,
did Premier Clemenceau multiply the evi-
dences of his conciliatory and peaceful inten-
tions. The sovereign pontiff, misled by Merry

THE PRELATE WHO PLAYED THE LEADING
PART IN RESISTANCE TO FRENCH LAW

Cardinal Richard, Archbishop of Paris, was the cen-
tral figure among the clericals when separation of
church and state led to last month's disturbances in
Paris. The Cardinal is at the head of the Ultramon-
tane party among French Roman Catholics, and he
has excited much opposition through his efforts to
have liberal Roman Catholic writings placed on the
index of forbidden books.

"HIS HOLINESS"

This is a quite recent photograph of the sovereign
pontiff, whose attacks of gout are reported to have
become less severe. The crisis of the past month is
said, however, to have caused anxiety not only to
the cardinals but to the physicians of Pius X.

del Val, was deaf to them. The minister of
public worship, the eloquent yet anticlerical
Aristide Briand, argued in the Chamber, just
prior to the expulsion of the last Vatican di-
plomatist from the soil of the republic, that,
thanks to the elasticity of its provisions, the
law separating church and state permitted the
formation of cultural associations wholly sub-
ject, as regards their functions, to the au-
thority of bishops in communion with the Holy
See. M. Briand had even shown that the
influence of the laity in these associations was
readily reducible to nothing. Thus the in-
dignant Temps. It was all, it adds, a waste

CURRENT LITERATURE

of labor. Merry del Val would not be con-
vinced. The Pope listened only to Merry del
Val.

VATICAN diplomatists sat dumbfounded at
the news of Monsignor Montagnini's
vicissitudes. That distinguished graduate of
the college of noble ecclesiastics is, in the eyes
of the papal secretary of state, a member of
the diplomatic corps in Paris. He did not
hold the rank of nuncio. There has been no
nuncio in Paris since the departure from that
capital of Monsignor Lorenzelli. Lorenzelli
was recalled by the Vatican as a protest against
President Loubet's official visit to the King
of Italy in Rome. Montagnini had been left
at the nunciature to remind the French govern-
ment that the Pope is still, in his own eyes,
as much a sovereign as Edward VII or Victor
Immanuel III. Montagnini, acting under in-
structions from the Vatican, had insisted upon
his right to be treated as a member of the dip-
lomatic corps. In any capital at which a papal
nuncio is received, that ecclesiastic is the
recognized dean of the diplomatic corps. But
the Foreign Office in Paris would not let
Montagnini appear at the diplomatic recep-
tions. He was informed that as an Italian
subject without official position it behooved
him to refrain from interference in French
domestic affairs. Nevertheless he had been the
medium of communication between the French
hierarchy and the Vatican. Cardinal Merry
del Val instructed him months ago to send
the archives of the nunciature to Rome. It
was the very thing Emile Combes had re-
solved to prevent. Emile Combes is the most
rabidly anticlerical premier the third republic
has ever had. Combes had scattered the re-
ligious orders to the four winds. He had
made it illegal for any member of a religious
order in France to teach anybody anything.
He was now bent upon possession of the in-
criminating documents which, as he felt per-
suaded, were at the mercy of a bold man.
Again and again did Montagnini essay to
smuggle the archives out of France, only to
find himself baffled by the sentinels maintained
on guard outside the nunciature by Combes
night and day. It was an exciting game while
it lasted, and Combes won at the end.

sovereign. It is as exempt from invasion as
Edward VII's own embassy in Paris. But
the true source of Merry del Val's uneasiness
is traced to the number of exalted ecclesiastics
hopelessly compromised, in the present state
of the law in France, by the revelations the
documents contain. Expulsions of priests and
bishops may become the order of the day.
Clemenceau has threatened as much. Not one
Roman Catholic power is left in Europe with
sufficient influence to aid the Vatican in this
emergency. The crisis comes, in fact, at a
time when the decay of Roman Catholicism
among the Latin nations is a matter of com-
ment. The whole church is in an uproar
throughout Spain. The King of Portugal
is more anticlerical than ever. The pious Em-
peror-King of Austria-Hungary is understood
to have been won over to that element in the
church which regards the ascendency of the
religious orders with disfavor. Italy is a
cipher owing to the long and sullen quarrel
over the temporal power. Never was the iso-
lation of the Vatican more conspicuous.

TVTITH a virulence of rhetoric begotten of
^^ resentment against an "atheistic" repub-
lic, the cardinal secretary of state penned a
warm protest to all the Roman Catholic pow-
ers represented at the Vatican. The nuncia-
ture, said his Eminence, is the territory of a

p ARDINAL RICHARD, the aged Arch-
^^ bishop of Paris, had been ordered from
his palace within twenty-four hours after the
expulsion of Monsignor Montagnini from
France. "Let there be no violence," he ex-
claimed to a group of sympathizers, when the
military burst into his presence. "Let there be
but passive resistance to an unjust law, after
exhausting all protests at every step." The
venerable ecclesiastic retained no legal right
to his official domicil because of his refusal
to form one of the lay associations which the
Pope deems schismatic. It is conceded by the
clericals themselves that the temper and train-
ing of the highest ecclesiastic in the republic
incapacitate him for leadership, even were he
not an infirm old man. The Cardinal Arch-
bishop alienated one of the two parties into
which French Roman Catholics are divided by
his persistent opposition to that pious, -learned
and unselfish priest, the Abbe Loisy. The
life and labors of the Abbe Loisy were de-
voted to the work of bridging the abyss be-
tween the region of faith and the world of
ideas. Cardinal Richard condemned the writ-
ings of the Abbe Loisy as likely to trouble the
faith of Catholics on fundamental dogmas
such as the divinity of Christ, his infallible
knowledge, the nature no less than the au-
thority of Scripture and tradition and the
divine institution of the papacy. This step,
taken when the third republic was well
into the throes of a crisis dating in reality

THE CURSE OF THE CONGO

from the first convulsions of the Dreyfus
affair, drove a wedge straight through the
church in France. The Archbishop had com-
mitted the tactical blunder known among mili-
tary men as separating divisions before an
enemy in position.

TYTITH the Loisy turmoil exciting a moral
"" revolution in the theological seminaries
throughout France, with the Vatican discord-
ant from the dissensions between those who,
like Cardinal Rampolla, are for conciliation,
and those who, with Merry del Val at their
head, refuse to make terms with the enemies
of the faith, the unity of that anticlerical com-
bination of which Premier Clemenceau is the
head contrasted markedly in the Chamber of
Deputies last month. Never was the thin,
grey Prime Minister with the heavy mus-
tache more effectively forensical than at the
very moment when the minions of his govern-
ment were sorting the treasonable documents
captured in the nunciature. "If the church
wishes," he shouted from the tribune to the
sea of faces in front of him, "there is still
time to avoid a battle. We offer her the law
made for all Frenchmen. By submitting to it
the church will have peace. Otherwise, by
seeking, the church militant can find us." He
asked the chamber to suppress the pensions
granted to superseded priests, to take over the
vast property forfeited by the Pope's irrecon-
cilable policy, to expel church dignitaries
whose presence in the land was an "irritant."
There ensued a noisy vote of confidence, and
Clemenceau went jauntily away with his copy
of the Odyssey in his hand. Pius X regards
the events of the month as merely the first
skirmish. The heat of the battle is still to come.

*
* *

t' ^EOPOLD II, King of the Belgians,
^^ Sovereign of the Congo Free State,
^^ presided over the recent cabinet
»-._w2__J council in Brussels, at which the
Congo crisis was taken up, with silence so
grim that no doubt of the intensity of his
Majesty's rage remained in any mind familiar
with the personality of the amazing old mon-
arch. He listened speechlessly to characteri-
zations of himself as a tiger born with an in-
satiable lust for human blood, as a possessor
of a conscience "indurated against evidence,
against shame, against the terror of an im-
mortality of bad renown." It had become the
delicate business of a cabinet minister to
read such extracts from European press com-
pient op the Congo in the very presence of

the autocrat of that vast rubber plantation.
Leopold stroked his venerable white beard
with what is affirmed the most aristocrat hand
in Europe and said not a word. His Majesty
had just effected the brilliant stroke of array-
ing vast American financial interests on his
side in the contest that is coming. The Amer-
ican Congo Company, backed by Thomas F.
Ryan and a group of interests well repre-
sented, according to the London Times, in the
United States Senate, was established by Leo-
pold II for the sole purpose of putting Wash-
ington out of the diplomatic battle now waging
hotly against him.

IMMEDIATELY after the cabinet council,
the King issued a formal defiance of Great
Britain. He announced a firm purpose to re-
sist, tho all Europe be dragged into compli-
cations, the step which the English Secretary
of State for Foreign Affairs declared em-
phatically some weeks since shall be taken.
Leopold, Sir Edward Grey had affirmed in
effect, must be stripped of his sovereignty over
the Congo. Sir Edward very openly pro-
nounces the Congo Free State a disgrace to
mankind. Britain intends to reform it. "No
one has the right of intervention in the
Congo," runs the retort of Leopold to this.
"There is nothing to justify intervention."
Sir Edward Grey met the challenge in the
presence of a deputation comprising men of
the highest rank and reputation in the United
Kingdom. "It will be impossible for us to
continue to recognize indefinitely the present
state of things," said the Secretary of State
for Foreign Affairs. From a statesman of his
diplomatic reticence this utterance foreshad-
owed a British battleship blocking the mouth
of the Congo and bringing the whole fabric
of administration in the Free State to nullity.
Sir Edward was loudly cheered. Never since
the days of the Arab slave traffic, when whole
populations were sold like cattle to the pachas,
has public opinion been brought to such vehe-
mence of protest against a system which, as
the London Outlook insists, renders Spain's
infamy in the Indies babyish in comparison.
"The Congo territory is, in the meantime,"
adds this authority, "more and more method-
ically subject to a vampire sway which drains
the very life of twenty millions of natives, and
establishes a rubber slavery more extensive
and more cruel, cheaper and more profitable
than ever was the cotton slavery in the south-
ern states before the civil war." Nor is this
an isolated indictment. "England will have to
show," avers The Saturday Review^ for once

CURRENT LITERATURE

able to agree with The Spectator, "that she
can not continue indefinitely to recognize the
present scandalous state of things." As for
The Spectator, that staid organ of the best
English opinion is moved to an indignation in-
compatible with its usual restraint. It speaks
of "a revolting brutality which makes the
blood run cold," and places all responsibility
upon the shoulders of the King alone. "Every-
where in Europe and America," it declares,
"the consciences of honest men have been
stirred by the astounding and amply substan-
tiated tales of Congo maladministration." The
land is desolate, its people slaves, its ruler an
autocrat of Mogul ferocity.

17 VERY day life in the Congo Free State
•'—' takes its color from such incidents as
the flogging of sentries because they have
not killed enough natives. The chief of a
village, his wife and his children, are killed in
the course of a day's work, the bodies being
distributed in small pieces among cannibals
or preserved in a smoked condition as rations
during a foray. In fact, as one missionary
of the highest repute has observed in the
London Standard, the horrors of the Congo
must be experienced to be believed. Leo-
pold's trump card in the long agitation has
been the general belief that such atrocities as
are charged against his administration sim-
ply could not have been perpetrated by human

hands. The King of the Belgians enjoys an
additional advantage from the circumstance
that many of the routine incidents of his sway
in Africa are unprintable. Rev. Edgar Stan-
nard, after years of experience in the Congo,
is actually able to see some mitigation in the
fact that cannibalism is not extinct there. Had
there been no one but the buzzards to devour
the heaps of slain, pestilence must have
proved an added curse. Luckily, the cannibals
are expert in preserving the flesh of the young
children they impale, and the smoked limbs
hanging from the roofs of their huts never
spread infection !

"HPHE hippopotamus whip, so familiar to all
■*• who have studied the literature of Con-
go horrors in the past five years, still flour-
ishes. It draws blood from five welts at
every stroke, as competent witnesses who have
seen it applied to women and children attest.
The herding of women under the tutelage of
a sentry until their husbands have ransomed
them with rubber is responsible for a social
condition that can not be . depicted even in
veiled language. The abuse is old, but un-
abated. In village after village, families of
natives cower bleeding in their bare hovels.
Their primitive garden patches run wild. The
morrow may see the husband and father, the
wife, or the child mutilated, outraged, de-
ported or killcrl. All this for rubber, which

From" King Leopold's Rule in Africa " by E. D. Morel. Courtesy of Funk & \\"

Mutilated for inexpertness in The sentries of llie Congo Free State His mutilation took place_ when he

preparing rubber

cut off his hand
SOME RUPBER MARTYRS OF THE CONGO

was not more thgn eleven

THE INDICTMENT OF KING LEOPOLD

Leopold disposes of in London at more than
a dollar a pound. "In other words," to quote
the London Times, "the native gets nothing
and he produces rubber for the monopolists
under pain of barbarous punishment by forced
labor on some three hundred days in the year.
The system is one of sheer force and violence."
One missionary reports preaching to eight
hundred natives of a populous Congo village.
"White man, you talk of salvation from sin,"
cried an old chief at last. "Give us salvation
from rubber." This was considered as revolt
When, some days later, the missionary re-
turned to that village, he found it a heap of
smoking ruins.

IZ'ING LEOPOLD'S own commission of
*^ inquiry sustained the gravest allega-
tions against his misrule of the Congo Free
State. The King, indeed, suppressed the evi-
dence gathered on the spot by his own investi-
gators. He has refused to permit the publica-
tion of extracts from that evidence, altho Sir
Edward Grey himself urged that some, at
least, of the testimony be rendered accessible.
The commission that gathered it was com-
posed, through Leopold's personal influence,
of Dr. Edmond Janssens, advocate-general of
the appeal court in Brussels, Baron Nisco,
President of the appeal court at Boma in the
Congo, and M. de Schumacher, a Swiss jurist,
who was added for the purpose of introducing
a non-Belgian element. These investigators
spent five months among the natives of the
rubber jungle. Blacks testified before them in
multitudes. The commissioners witnessed
abuses of authority with their own eyes. They
saw corporation employees playing the part of
despots, demanding women and food, "not only
for themselves but also for the retinue of
parasites and ne'er-do-wells who soon collect
through love of plunder to follow their for-
tune, and by whom they are surrounded as by
a bodyguard; they kill without sparing all
who seek to resist their exactions and their
caprices." To statements such as these all
Leopold's commissioners subscribed. Their
report was completed a year ago. It was one
of the most conclusive indictments of the Con-
go system that had emanated from any source.

TVT" HOLES ALE slaughter is known in the
'^ official language of Congo administra-
tion as "military operations." Leopold's com-
missioners vouch for that. "The vague in-
definiteness of the orders given," they say,
"and sometimes the irresponsibility of those
charged with their execution have frequently

THE SOVEREIGN OF THE CONGO
Leopold II, King of the Belgians, is now the central
figure in the most serious scandal ever attributed to
an inhuman system of colonial misrule. He is seven-
ty-one, a patron of the ballet and the most persistent
preacher of benevolence the world has ever seen.

CURRENT LITERATURE

resulted in unjustifiable murders." Rev. F. B.
Meyer, President of the Baptist Union of
Great Britain, sees no reason to believe that
any change has taken place since those words
were penned. "It often happens that the na-
tives, to escape the payment of taxes, and espe-
cially the enforced collection of rubber, mi-
grate singly or in a body and settle in another
district. Then a detachment of troops is sent
after them. Sometimes by persuasion, some-
times after a fight, the fugitives are brought
back." Thus the Belgian jurists reported
months ago. Matters are worse than ever
now, according to Sir T. Fowell Buxton,
President of the British and Foreign Anti-
Slavery Society. "In the upper Congo there
is a lamentable confusion between the state of
war and the state of peace, between adminis-
tration and repression, between those who are
to be regarded as enemies and those who have
a right to be treated as citizens of the state
and in conformity with its- laws." Thus Leo-
pold's commissioners, who say they were
struck by the general tone of the reports
which the Congo officials gave of their own
acts. They referred to "villages taken by
surprise," "fierce pursuits," "numbers of the
enemy killed and wounded," "booty," "pris-
oners of war," "terms of peace," and all the
concomitants of sanguinary battle. "Evident-
ly," say the commissioners, "these officers be-
lieve they are waging war."

/^ ONGO rubber interests have been repre-
^^ sented in the Paris Economiste Fran-
gais as valued at fully a billion dollars. This
sum is made up of the capital stock of com-
panies chartered by Leopold himself. The
corporations collect the rubber through offi-
cials who likewise administer the government
locally. This blending of traffic with the work
of national administration was denounced by
Sir Edward Grey as the source of all the hor-
rors. It is defended by Leopold as the only
civilizing agency in the Congo. It has enabled
him to suppress the sale of alcohol to the
natives. It has ended the exportation of the
blacks as slaves. But Sir Charles Dilke and
his associates in the work of Congo reform
pronounce Leopold's peculiar charter system
the very basis of all abuses. Congo shares, it
is said, are distributed liberally in the world's
leading capitals. The result is the establish-
ment of powerful vested interests in Germany,
France, Italy and Belgium — all working for
a perpetuation of the horrors. Certainly, the
creation of the American Congo Company has
been much criticized in certain European

dailies, including the Brussels Soir. That
newspaper understands that the Rockefeller
interests are connected with the enterprise.
The London Standard names such prominent
capitalists as the Whitneys, the Guggenheims
and the Rockefellers as beneficiaries of the
latest concession. It embraces nearly sixteen
thousand square miles of the Congo forest in
the district of the equator. Brussels dailies
incline to criticize this transaction. "The
news of this enormous concession," observes
the Derniere Heure, which has been cautious
in comment hitherto, "can not fail deeply to
impress public opinion in Belgium." The con-
cession granted to Mr. Thomas F.Ryan, of New
York and Virginia, astonishes the Brussels
Gazette, a. journal of moderate tendencies, which
has hitherto refrained from criticizing the pol-
icy of the Congo Free State. "This concession,"
it says, "affects the national domain, which
Belgium has a right to consider, if not as her
actual property, at least as hers in reversion."

EBEL and the fourscore Socialists he
leads fled precipitately into the
streets of Berlin when Emperor
William, without a word of warn-
ing, dissolved the Reichstag a fortnight
ago. The aged agitator and his follow-
ers refused to stay for the cheers that had
to be given in honor of his imperial majesty.
Bebel, hints the Vorw'drts, was ungrateful. The
dissolution had terminated the long alliance
between William II and that Center party
which for over a generation has promoted
every Roman Catholic interest in the German
Empire. On the face of the parliamentary
record, the nation which does the world's
thinking has been plunged into an exciting
election for so trivial a matter as the expense
account of a few troops in southwest Africa.
In reality there has been so wide a breach
between Berlin and Rome that all Europe is
asking if Bismarck's old war on the Roman
Catholic Church must break out with a fiercer
energy than the iron chancellor ever put into
the struggle. Bebel is conducting a campaign
from which he predicts a doubling of the phe-
nomenal vote that made the Socialists some
three years ago the most numerous party in
the land. The Vatican is looking forward to
the elections — which take place next month
— with a concern even greater than the situa-
tion in France has aroused. For the next six
weeks Germany, affirms the Paris Journal des
Dehats, will be the most interesting country in
the world.

Persons in the Foreground

THE ADVENTUROUS CAREER OF "FIGHTING BOB"

EVANS

Zogbaum draws with a pencil

And I do things with a pen,
But you sit up in a conning tower

Bossing eight hundred men.

Zogbaum takes care of his business

And I take care of mine,
But you take care of ten thousand tons

Sky-hooting through the brine.

Zogbaum can handle his shadows
And I can handle my style.

But you can handle a ten-inch gun
To carry seven mile.

To him that hath shall be given.
And that's why these books are sent

To the man who has lived more stories
That Zogbaum or I could invent.

13 HEN these lines were M^ritten by
Kipling years ago, they were in-
scribed on the fly-leaf of one of the
volumes of an edition of his works
and addressed to Captain Evans, U.S.N. The
then captain is now senior rear-admiral and the
commander-in-chief of our navy's strongest
fleet — the North Atlantic squadron. The eight
hundred men whom he "bossed" have become
about six thousand, and the eight battleships
that he now handles as they go "sky-hooting
through the brine" weigh about one hundred
thousand tons, the maintenance of which costs
about four million dollars a year.

Few living Americans have a more interest-
ing life-story to tell than that which James
Creelman tells, in Pearson's Magazine, of
"Fighting Bob" Evans. The interest began
when, as a boy of thirteen, he had the glori-
ous chance, coveted by so many boys, to fight
real Indians and be wounded with a real ar-
row that drew real blood. The interest of his
career has continued down to the present time.
It was Captain Bob's ship that fired the first
shot at Cervera's fleet as it made its mad rush
for safety from Santiago harbor. And to-day
an agitation is going on to influence Congress
to create a new rank, that of vice-admiral, in
which event Evans is pretty sure to have the
new title thrust upon him.

He is a Virginian by birth, and his blood is
a mixture of English and Welsh. Sixty years

ago he first saw the light dawn among the
mountains of Floyd County. He had a black
mammy for his nurse, and when he was six
years old he owned a gun, a pony and a negro
boy. To complete his boyish bliss he learned
to smoke and chew tobacco with all the vim of
the youthful hero of Colonel Hay's Pike coun-
ty ballad, "Little Breeches." When Bob was
ten, this manner of life came to an end. His
father died as a result of exposure and hard-
ship in attending to his duties as a country
doctor. Bob went to Washington to live with
an uncle. Three years later he attracted the
attention of one of the territorial delegates
from Utah, who offered to send him to Annap-
olis if he would first go to Utah and become a
resident there. That was in 1859. Mr. Creel-
man writes as follows:

"Bob was only thirteen years old, but he eagerly
set out for the Mormon capital. He traveled
alone by train to St. Joseph, Missouri. There he
was met by friends, who arranged that he should
cross the plains with a party of five bound for
California.

"Mounted on a large gray mule, the future
Senior Rear-Admiral of the American Navy went
out into the great wilderness. He helped'to hunt
buffalo and was in several exciting Indian fights.

"Once the little party was ambushed by a band
of Blackfeet, but after a sharp fight, in which Bob
did his share, they managed to escape. There
were three ugly arrows sticking in Bob's gray mule
and another shaft had gone through his left ankle,
pinning it to the mule. That unhappy animal
danced about in agony until he was lassooed and
the boy was released by having the arrow cut be-
tween his ankle and the mule's side.

"That was a wonderful journey for Bob, full
of life and color, the vast loneliness of the plains
offering a strange contrast to the shut-in majesty
of the Virginia mountains. Again and again the
party was attacked by savages, and Bob learned
how to watch and how to fight."

A friendly Indian chief, Washakie, took
such a fancy to the lad that he tried to kid-
nap him. Bob escaped, but afterward made
the chief a visit of ten days, during which time
he was clad in buckskin, taught to shoot with
a bow and forced into wrestling bouts with
Indian boys. Washakie tried to adopt him and
offered to give him, when he grew up, one of
his daughters for a wife. The tempting offer

CURRENT LITERATURE

^Courtesy of D. Appleton & Co.

"THE MAN WHO HAS LIVED MORE STORIES THAN
ZOGBAUM OR I COULD INVENT."— /C»>/in^

This is Midshipman Evans after the attack on Fort Fisher and after
he compelled the hospital doctors, at the point of a revolver, to leave
his legs where the Creator put them.

was resisted. Bob's eye was fixed on Annap-
olis. One year later, in i860, he was on board
the frigate Constitution as an acting midship-
man.

Then came the Civil War. Bob's mother
was passionately devoted to the Southern
cause. Bob's brother put on the Confederate
gray and went to the front. But Bob, tho
only fourteen, had a mind of his own. He
declined his mother's entreaties to leave the
service. In desperation, the mother wrote
out his resignation herself and sent it, without

his knowledge, to the Secretary
of the Navy. It was accepted, but
Bob, when he heard of it, sent a
telegram to Washington that se-
cured his reinstatement, and he
and his brother fought on oppos-
ing sides to the end of the war,
and both succeeded in being badly
wounded.

It was in the attack upon Fort
Fisher that Midshipman Evans
was shot. He was hit three times
before he fell. Then he was shot
a fourth time as he lay on the
sand, and he saw the sharpshooter
getting ready for a fifth shot. Bob
felt that the proceedings were be-
coming monotonous, and he ad-
dressed a few emphatic remarks
to that effect to the sharpshooter.
As the Tremarks seemed insufficient,
he did a little sharpshooting him-
self that ended the matter. But
a fate worse than death to Bob
soon seemed imminent, for he was
taken to the hospital at Norfolk
and he overheard the surgeon in
charge say to his assistant: "Take
both legs off in the morning."
Bob slipped a revolver under his
pillow and waited with set teeth
for the morning. He was only
eighteen and he felt that he had use
for those legs. When the assistant
came to prepare him for the op-
eration. Bob at first protested ear-
nestly, but in vain. Then he pulled
his revolver from under the pil-
low, and told the doctor that it
had six cartridges and that if
anybody entered the place with a
case of instruments six men would
be killed before the operation be-
gan. The legs were saved.

The soubriquet of "Fighting
Bob" thus seems to have been
merited early in his career; but it did not
come to him until 1891, when, as com-
mander of the gunboat Yorktown, he was
sent to Valparaiso to assist Captain Schley,
of the Baltimore, in a fracas which the
latter's men had got into with the Chilians.
Evans at one time, during the absence of the
Baltimore, confronted with his single gunboat
the ten forts and the whole Chilian squadron,
and twice cowed the Chilians with the threat
to open fire without further parley, thus saving
his flag from insult and preventing the forcible

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

seizure of the American
refugees who had taken
refuge under his flag. That
night Commander Evans
wrote this brief comment-
ary on the affair:

"The American flag is a
wonderful thing when all is
said and done. Here are these
two men with no claim on us
besides our sentiment of right
and humanity, whose lives
have not been worth anything
for months, now resting quiet
and secure in the midst of
the Chilian fleet, and under
the guns of ten heavy forts;
and all because a small gun-
boat flying the American flag
has them in charge."

One more incident retold
by Mr. Creelman illustrates
the preparedness of "Fight-
ing Bob" in other respects
than that of mere personal
readiness for a scrap.
When a fleet of American
warships was sent to help
celebrate the opening of
the Kiel Canal, in 1895,
Captain Evans was sent
with the Columbia:

"One night the German
Emperor dined in the Colum-
bia and remained until two
in the morning. Just before
leaving the ship he asked the
captain how long it would
take to close all the water-
tight doors.

" 'About thirty seconds in
the day, but about two min-
utes at night.'

" 'Would you mind doing
it for me now?' asked the
Emperor, puffing his cigar
and winking his eyes at the
astonished captain.^

" 'Certainly,' said Evans,
turning to blow the siren sig-
nal for closing the watertight
doors, only to find that the
steam was too low and the
siren would not make a
sound.

" *Ah ha ! Captain !' cried
the Emperor, 'you see that
you can't close your bulk-
heads at all.'

"Swinging about; the cap-
tain touched the general
alarm button which calls all
hands to quarters, and in a
moment the crew was swarm-
ing up.

Copyrighted by Byron, N. Y., 1906.

ON DECK
Of Rear- Admiral Evans it is said:
"There is something of the human
battleship in that grim, brown,
square-jawed countenance, with_ its
stern gray eyes and fighting chin."

"The astonished Emperor
took out his watch and timed
the feat. In exactly a minute
and a half all the watertight
doors were closed and the
Columbia was ready for bat-
tle.

'"Captain Evans,' said the
Emperor frankly, 'I cannot
imagine that a ship could be
in better condition.' "

Creelman thus describes
the Admiral as he appears
to-day :

"There was something of
the human battleship in that
grim, brown, square-jawed
countenance, with its stern
gray eyes and fighting chin.
The very slant of the head
and the set of the squat,
strong figure connected itself
with the massive guns thrust
out from the ponderous steel
turrets behind him, and the
steady oak deck beneath him.

"The crook in the game leg
was got forty-one years ago
in the terrific assault on Fort
Fisher. The powerful shoul-
der that squared itself occa-
sionally with such -a hint of
hitting force, was once
crushed by a falling steel bat-
tle-hatch.

"And the coarse, almost
savage mouth ! — how sugges-
tive of a nearly forgotten age
of roaring hand-to-hand cut-
lass fighting and close, fierce
ship grapplings, speaking
words of command to cold,
silent engineers and electri-
cians dealing death to invisi-
ble distant foes by the tap-
ping of keys and the moving
of switches!"

When Captain Evans
was made an admiral, and
was about to sail to take
charge of the Asiatic fleet,
he called on President
Roosevelt for instructions.
This was what he was told.

"Admiral, I want you to
feel every night when you
go to bed that you are bet-
ter prepared to fight than
when you got up that
morning."

"Those were the best in-
structions I ever got," said
the Admiral, "and I have
honestly tried to carry
them out ever since."

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE SELAMLIK
Every Friday at noon the Turkish Sultan attends the ceremony of the selamlik, the word denoting a public
appearance and greeting. Headed by two files of pachas of high position at court, the Sultan's carriage proceeds
through triple files of troops to the mosque wherein the commander of the faithful gives himself to his devotions.

THE SERAPHIC SOUL OF ABDUL HAMID

ASHFULNESS not less instinctive
than the gazel's, simplicity so
credulous as to be virginal and
that inexpressible delicacy of soul
from which all comprehension of the unre-
fined seems eternally excluded, clothe the per-
sonality of the Turkish Sultan with an ethere-
ality absolutely seraphic to the eye of Chedo
Mijatovich. "He smiles," writes Mr. Mijato-
vich in the London Fortnightly Review — and
Mr. Mijatovich was long Servian minister at
Constantinople — "he smiles quietly." He does
it "almost sadly," too. Tenderness, gratitude,
admiration, pity, wonder to see the world bear
aught but flowers, and a thousand kindred
sentiments reflect themselves in the counte-
nance of the commander of the faithful
through an appropriately pensive smile.

For flowers the Sultan has a passion in
which he is swallowed up, swept away, lost.
The development of haunch, the tenuity of
limb and the plenitude of length in which

true Arab steeds excel are to Abdul Hamid
as the blended odors of a thousand flowers.
His technical information respecting those al-
ternations of line with curve which constitute
the secret of beauty in the female form would
fill an Austrian archduke with envy. But he
is the easiest of Sultans to shock. A perform-
ance of "Robert le Diable" happened to be in
progress on the stage of that dainty theater
within the Yildiz Kiosk grounds from which
members of the diplomatic corps stationed at
Constantinople are permitted to derive sublime
ideas of recitative and tempo. Pepita, having
said her prayers with orchestral accompani-
ment in the fugue style, began to undress her-
self for bed. She doffed her skirt, singing
chords in arpeggio. Off came her bodice next,
to C major and attendant keys. She loosened
her petticoat, molto allegro, and it fell to the
floor. Abdul Hamid, who ordinarily absorbs
harmony in rapt speechlessness, now found a
voice.

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

"Do you think," he said to the Russian am-
bassador, who, with the Persian ambassador
and Mr. Mijatovich, occupied the imperial box
with the commander of the faithful, "do you
think this young actress is going to undress
herself altogether?"

The Sultan was alarmed. "There is in
Abdul Hamid," writes Mr. Mijatovich, "a
peculiar modesty, timidity and tenderness
which are quite womanly." With the sweet
gravity of the soul of Portia are blended, in
Mr. Mijatovich's eulogy of the Sultan, the
proud vehemence of Juliet calling upon night
to bring Romeo to her arms, the sensibility of
Ophelia to every melancholy mood in Hamlet,
Desdemona's intuitive gentleness of response
to the stimulus of a jealous husband, the an-
gelic elegance of Isabella in her nunnery and
the high-bred ease of Rosalind in tights. Thus
does Mr. Mijatovich pull asunder the rose
of his subject, petal by petal, and ever it ex-
hales the same entrancing essence.

As a father, the commander of the faithful
is affection personified to his dozens of chil-
dren. With every one of his wives he keeps
up a personal acquaintance. Concerts and
sweetmeats are provided with absolute im-
partiality for the swarm of ladies in the harem,
Abdul Hamid himself devising the most de-
licious ballets for their delectation. He knows
what love is, affirms Mr. Mijatovich and, adds
that diplomatist, "he seems to have reduced
his own experience to philosophical princi-
ples." With the same predisposition to pity
that dissolves him in tears when death robs
him of some pet chamois, the Sultan lamented
the infatuation which hurried the King of
'Servia into that mad marriage of his with the
irresistible Draga. "But," said the commander
of the faithful, with that tone of sadness and
earnestness which gave ethereality to his
smile whenever he spoke to Mr. Mijatovich,
"after all, what right have we even to criti-
cize ? What right have we to complain ? Can
a man escape his destiny? And is it fair to
forget what an irresistible power love has?
Where is the strong man who is not weak
when he finds himself alone with the woman
he loves ? And are we not all liable sometimes
to commit follies? Does love ever ask what
is your rank and dignity? Does love ever ask
what your father and mother will say? Does
it ever listen to reason?" Upon which Mr.
Mijatovich was "so charmed," to quote his
own words, and so "deeply impressed by this
philosophical discourse of Sultan Abdul Hamid
on the power of love" that he hurried to the
Legation and wrote it all down immediately.

ONLY AUTHENTIC PORTRAIT OF THE SULTAN
This is copied from a pen drawing made some time
ago by Jose Engel. Those who have seen the Sultan say
the likeness is an excellent one. The Sultan has never
consented since he ascended his throne, to sit for a
photograph.

It is when some pet parrot has perched upon
his forefinger while he toys with the ear of a
fawn that the infantine spontaneity of the Sul-
tan's predisposition to love overcomes the nat-
ural melancholy of his temperament. For he
is another St. Francis of Assisi in his artless
fondness for the bird and the beast. The Sul-
tan dwells immured within the Yildiz Kiosk.
Here roll his verdant hills topped with the gay
tints of groves contrived by cunning garden-
ers, here speed the tiny streams on which the
fairy bark dances with the commander of the
faithful out to artificial lakes and improvized
isles of balm. To the greenest of these the
Sultan is rowed by his own shapely arms — he
has inherited the physical beauty of his Arme-
nian mother. Behold him now among his pets.
They are as tame as babes and the Sultan
made them so. The shy stag runs up for a
succulent leek. The cockatoo squawks into
the Sultan's ear from a chosen perch on the
imperial shoulder. The Angora goat rubs its
fleeciness against its master's knee. Plain-
tive lambs add their bleats to the pleasing din
nor will the dear gazel be left unkissed. It
is a melting scene when Abdul Hamid tears
himself away.

CURRENT LITERATURE

Not that he is all smiles and tears and love.
Fully a third of his life is spent among books
and papers in a study furnished with the se-
verity of a pauper scholar's lodging. One
huge table is piled high with documents
through which the commander of the faithful
works his way like some patient worm clois-
tered within an apple. Not a scrap is tolerated
on the Sultan's table longer than twenty-four
hours, yet every morsel of paper is said to have
come under his scrutiny within that interval.
There is, we are further assured, no waste-
paper basket in the study. The apartment af-
fords easy access to the four sumptuous libra-
ries which reveal Abdul Hamid as a collector
on something like bibliophile principles. There
is a section made up wholly of classics in
Turkish, in Arabic and in Persian. In the
study of Pahlavi, or middle Persian texts, in
familiarity with Persia's national poet, Fir-
dausi, in felicitous citation of the beauties of
Hafiz and Saadi, of Jami, Nizami and Jalal
ad-Din, the Sultan enriches the stream of his
discourse and demonstrates the classicality of
his taste. In this section of the library — con-
trasting markedly with the department of
works devoted to Turkey by innumerable wri-
ters in European languages — the bindings are
sumptuous and elegant. Pearls, enamels and
rich velvets and silks beautify the luxuriant
editions of the Sultan's favorite poets.

The rising of the sun never precedes that of
the Sultan by more than an hour. If the air
be lambent and the sky serene, Abdul Hamid
betakes himself to the green declivities in which
Yildiz stands embowered. Yildiz Kiosk is
really a cluster of white structures reposing on
the bosom of a park like a fleet of icebergs
asleep beneath the moon. Winding paths
meander from grot to grove, from grove to per-
fumed stream. Here in the morning hours the
commander of the faithful enjoys some favor-
ite poet, feeds the school of glistening little
fishes in the rivulet or enchants himself with
the odor from flower and leaf and sward.
After the visit to his pets, the Sultan betakes
himself to breakfast. This pretty repast is
never substantial and is always served by a
functionary of high rank who himself tastes
every viand before the commander of the faith-
ful's suspicious eyes. The meal despatched,
Abdul Hamid repairs to the library. The ruler
of Turkey is understood to have the leading
newspapers of Europe read to him at more or
less regular intervals and his fondness for
looking at pictures in books of travel and in
illustrated periodicals is well known. But
apart from the writers of the golden age of the

faith he lends his own eyes to no perusal what-
ever. His seclusion is so rigorous that news
of President McKinley's death did not reach
him, according to one authority, until long
after the accession of President Roosevelt.
The statement may be erroneous, but it is con-
sistent with Abdul Hamid's mode of life.

One o'clock is the hour of the siesta. The
slumber of an hour and a half is defended from
all intrusion by a palace eunuch or an Alba-
nian guard of tried fidelity, until dulcet strains,
swelling higher and higher beneath the Sultan's
window, call him back to earth. For the next
ten hours at least, with no great interval for
food and prayers at sundown, Abdul Hamid de-
votes himself to the government of his realm.
He pays most attention to the details of mili-
tary administration. For the rest — and espe-
cially when remonstrating diplomatists per-
sist in demands for an audience — the com-
mander of the faithful acts upon his great prin-
ciple of never putting oflf until to-morrow what
he can postpone indefinitely. A growing weak-
ness of the eyes accounts, it is said, for the
hurried mode he has of disposing of all docu-
ments. These must be disinfected in his pres-
ence before he is willing to take them into his
hands.

To the consideration of all administrative
detail the Sultan brings not only the whole
poetical range of his ideas, but an epigram-
matic facility in disposing of complications
with a word. When his Grand Vizier gave a
dinner, a poor dervish was admitted to swal-
low the silver spoons for the edification of the
guests.

"Do you call that astonishing?" asked the
Sultan when he was told of this. "My Minis-
ter of Marine can swallow whole squadrons."

This jest, as is explained by Mr. Mijatovich,
who vouches for the accuracy of the anecdote,
circulated throughout Constantinople at the ex-
pense of Hassan Pacha, celebrated for the
celerity with which he could lavish a year's
Turkish revenue upon his innumerable wives.
Displays of the grossest stupidity in the pachas
of his court can no more evoke the flash of
anger from the Sultan's eye than revelations
of their unblushing venality in his service. In
honor of a member of the English royal fam-
ily, whom there were motives of expediency
for impressing favorably, Abdul Hamid once
sent a warship to Mlalta. But the com-
mander came back to port with the announce-
ment that in the whole Mediterranean there
was no Malta.

"I see now," commented the Sultan, "why
the English want Cyprus. There is no Malta."

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

Such conflicting diagnoses of the mysteri-
ous malady now ravaging the system of the
commander of the faithful have been circulated
within the past year that few know precisely
whether he has cancer of the kidneys, Bright's
disease, or that painful affection known as
prostatitis. The Sultan's spells of dizziness,
his recurring fits of fainting and the cessation
of some of the pious practises of the religion
to which his attachment is so true have inspired
abroad expectations of an approaching change
in the government of Turkey. Of complete re-
covery, declares the London Lancet, there can
be no hope. The commander of the faithful

is approaching the age of seventy. His per-
sonal appearance is said by those who have
seen him within the past few months to con-
vey no impression of that pensive etherearlity
which made the morning freshness of his beau-
ty so entrancing to the eye. But the sweet
magnificance of his manner seduces the imagpi-
nation still and Abdul Hamid remains the most
gracious of mankind. "He is," to grace our
exit from the subject with the words of Mr.
Mijatovich, "considerate, modest, charitable
and patient," reluctant withal to manifest
harshness in any form owing to "consciousness
of his responsibility toward God."

THE CHIEF OF THE RAILROAD KINGS OF THE WORLD

]0R the last fifteen years, a mile of
new railroad track has been con-
structed and equipped each working
day, on an average, under the im-
mediate direction of James Jerome Hill. "He
has greater transportation interests," says one
well-informed writer, "than any other one
man on the continent." And that means, of
course, greater than any other one man in the
world. In his Great Northern system are
seven thousand miles of track. In his North-
ern Pacific he has about five thousand miles.
And in the Burlington system there are eight
thousand. If the three lines were placed end
to end in a single track, they would reach
from Seattle, across the continent, across the
Atlantic, across Europe and Asia, to the east-
ern shores of China, where one might take one
of Hill's big Pacific line steamers and complete
the trip to Seattle. Even as matters now stand,
one may start at Buffalo, go to Duluth on one
of his fine fleet of lake steamers, go on to the
Pacific on one of his railroads, and then on to
Shanghai on another of his boats, making
half the circuit of the world. And so far is he
from being satisfied with this stupendous de-
velopment of his own transportation interests
that, viewing the needs of the country as a
whole in the near future, he declared recently
in an earnest speech that we need "at once"
the construction of 115,000 more miles of rail-
road track. There is not money enough in the
country, he holds, nor can rails enough be
made in five years' time to supply what we
ought to have to-day.

It has recently transpired that a project was
matured a few years ago — after the forma-
tion of the Northern Securities Company and
before the court decision that that company

was illegal — to unite in one vast holding com-
pany all the railroad lines west of the Missis-
sippi between Canada and Mexico. Hill was
requested to become the head of the entire
system, but he refused. Then came the decis-
ion that wrecked the Northern Securities plan
and this other stupendous scheme was dropped.
James J. Hill was born sixty-eight years ago
near Guelph, Wellington County, Ontario.
There stands up there now. It is said, a half-
cut tree on which is a placard bearing the
words: "The last tree chopped by James J.
Hill." When he was but fifteen, his father
died and he was forced to suspend his studies
in a Quaker school and seek employment in
the country. He was at work chopping trees
one day when a traveler stopped at the house
to take dinner, hitching his tired horse near
the gate. Young Hill, noting the animal's con-
dition, carried it a bucket of water. It was a
simple act, but the consequences were as mo-
mentous as if this were an old-fashioned Sun-
day school story. The traveler, pleased at
the boy's thoughtfulness, tossed him a Minne-
sota newspaper and remarked as he rode
away : "Go out there, young man. That coun-
try needs youngsters of your spirit." The
young man read the newspaper and its glow-
ing accounts of the opportunities awaiting set-
tlers and formed a resolution. The next morn-
ing he walked to the tree he had been cutting,
hit it one last lick for luck, and announced:
"I've chopped my last tree." He went to Min-
nesota, got employment as shipping clerk in a
steamboat office in St. Paul, and began the
career that has made him master of a hundred
millions or thereabouts, and manager of other
hundreds of millions. For fifty years he has
studied the Northwest and devoted himself to

CURRENT LITERATURE

its development. His study has been of the
closest and most practical kind. In a recent
interview he said:

"When I first crossed the Red River, in North
Dakota, there were only two houses in the valley,
and the nearest settler kept a frontier stage sta-
tion at Pomme de Terre, the old wooden stock-
ade. My first trip down the valley was made be-
hind three dogs — and one of them was a yellow
dog. At that time I was not sure that the country
would be settled in my lifetime, but two years
later when I entered the valley I saw a wagon
track, and where it had cut the sod the earth was
pulverized and the grass that grew in the ruts
was a foot higher than the prairie grass, and I
knew that God in His wisdom had made it for
a good purpose."

Before he bought the old St. Paul and Pa-
cific road, getting his start as a railway mag-
nate, he traveled over the route in an ox-cart
examining not only the road but the resources
of the country. Before he extended his line
to the Pacific he went the whole distance on
foot and horseback, studying the grades, the
soil and the meteorology of the country. Some
people call him the stingiest man on earth and
some call him extravagant. The fact seems
to be that in operating a road he will enforce
economy in the smallest details, but in in-
creasing its efficiency and in development of
the resources of the country he will expend
millions with a lavish hand.

Mr. Hill's personal appearance is thus de-
scribed by a writer in the New York Herald:

"When he came to the United States he brought
with him the lusty body, the fresh color, the fru-
gal instincts and good principles of his Scotch-
Irish ancestry. He had something to add to these,
however — a certain blind confidence in his right
and ability to go anywhere. He had been schooled
to economize; he knew by intuition how to ac-
quire.

"Mr. Hill is a large man, with a massive head
and brow, and the eyes beneath are steady, cool

and brown. There is not an irresolute line from
the top of his unequivocal gray head to the sole
of his stout boots. He is quiet and grave by tem-
perament and reserved from principles. He is an
intensely human man, fond of comforts, impa-
tient of conventionalities, has a simple, sturdy
dignity of manner and a rugged self-appreciation
that is sometimes called Western.

"He talks deliberately and fluently and he
thinks like lightning. He is keenly alert and yet
has the prescience of a dreamer, for he plans the
■ future and molds with an unerring estimate. He
is a man of medium height, but broad and power-
ful of build and straight in his bearing. He is full
faced and ruddy and has a big strong nose, com-
mon to men of force and action. His neck shows
the fighter, his eyes indicate a gentle nature, and
the mouth, large, full, sensitive and human, is by
far the most striking feature of a face which is
grave and sad in repose."

Like many another man who has achieved
great things, Mr. Hill is unable to formulate
any recipe for success that is of any special
help to those desirous of treading in his foot-
steps. "Whatever I may have accomplished,"
he says, "has been due to taking advantage of
opportunities, and I haven't been watching the
clock. The simple truth is that the man who
attends to his work will succeed anywhere."
All of which tells us little or nothing. The
secret of success can not be packed into a
recipe and communicated by word of mouth
or by a few strokes of the pen. Every man
has to learn it for himself and while certain
qualities appear indispensable no two success-
ful men ever combine them in just the same
way.

Mr. Hill has three boys, all active in the
railroad business. James N. Hill, his eldest
son, is vice-president of the Northern Pacific.
Louis W. Hill is first vice-president of the
Great Northern. Walter H. Hill is right-of-
way agent for the Great Northern. The sec-
ond, it is thought, is most likely to be his
father's successor.

THE REAL RULER OF THE CHINESE

UAN SHI KAI does not lard the
lean earth as he walks along; he
is not as fat as Falstaff. Yuan
Shi Kai can go through an or-
dinary doorway; he is not as fat as Pope
Alexander VI. But Yuan Shi Kai is quite
fat. It is a magisterial obesity without which
the configuration of his short body might af-
ford too vivid impressions of a bull-like neck

and a pair of big feet. The architecture of
his corpulence is Corinthian at the limbs, ele-
phantine at the waist line. The contour is
crowned by flowing traceries of cheek and
chin.

But nobody cared at Tien-tsin fifteen years
ago whether Yuan Shi Kai was fat or thin.
To-day the topic is to the official world what
the number of Louis XIV's yawns was to the

"HAS GREATER TRANSPORTATION INTERESTS THAN ANY OTHER ONE MAN ON THE CONTINENT"

James Jerome Hill is "a large man, with a massive head and brow, and the eyes beneath are steady, cool and
brown. There is not an irresolute line from the top of his unequivocal gray head to the sole of his stout boots."

CURRENT LITERATURE

hundred and fifty courtiers who daily saw
him dressed. For Yuan Shi Kai, unlike
Caesar, will not have men about him that are
fat. Corpulence, he asserts, is the badge of
sloth in China. The zealous servant of Cathay
should grow thin in office. No one could
strive harder than Yuan Shi Kai strives to
lose flesh. When he succeeds, the ambitious
members of his suite must get thinner with
him. Since no girth in his excellency's yamen
may exceed that of its lord, it follows that
the circumference of Yuan Shi Kai is con-
sidered of greater local importance than that
of the earth.

At the age of thirty-five, Yuan Shi Kai —
who is fifty now — found himself an obscure
bureaucrat. His future was compromised by
his ignorance of the three commentaries on
the Yih King. He could not deal in pen-
tameter verses with the sound of the oar or
the green of the hills or the splash of swift
waters at flood. He was therefore an object
of pity and contempt to all who ever gave him
a thought in that literary caste which until
quite recently monopolized the exalted posts
in the empire. He was pining obscurely in
Korea as China's resident there, having se-
cured the post only because it afforded no
prospect whatever of distinction. Yet to-day
he is in China what Cardinal Wolsey was in
England before the Pope's refusal to djvorce
Henry VHI, what Richelieu was in France
when the Duke of Buckingham trembled at
the beauty of Anne of Austria, what Bismarck
was in Germany after the battle of Sedan..
The most powerful personage in the eighteen
provinces, remarked that high authority on
China, Sir Robert Hart, to Douglas Story
twelve months ago, is Yuan Shi Kai. Wu
Ting Fang, whom Americans must remember
as the only effective talker ever sent to repre-
sent Peking in Washington, quite recently
asked Mr. Story if he could name the real
ruler of the Chinese.

"Yuan Shi Kai," was the instant answer.

"Right!" rejoined Wu Ting Fang. "The
will of the viceroy of Chi-Li is law in this
land."

A will of iron, the gift of foresight, an in-
tellect naturally subtle and searching and the
firmest grasp of the essentials of administra-
tive and diplomatic policy have enabled this
unlettered provincial from Ho-nan, where he
was born in poverty, to lift himself to greater
power and influence than are possessed by
any other human being in the land — not even
excepting the old dowager empress. The
foreign devil is still permitted to infer, if he

pleases, that the aged aunt of the secluded
son of heaven at Peking rules the realm. But
so completely does the viceroy of Chi-Li hold
the old dame in the hollow of his hand that
he can, if he likes, select the next Emperor of
China. He means to do it, we are told by
those who have studied the man. He will,
like Napoleon, with his own hands crown
himself.

Yuan Shi Kai had attained the age of forty
before he had learned the difference between
a regiment of cavalry and a battery of divis-
ional artillery. Last October he put 30,000
native troops, well equipped and armed with
the latest weapons, through a series of ma-
neuvers at Chang-te-fu. Thirty foreign mil-
itary attaches and a score of European news-
paper correspondents reported that the cav-
alry, the artillery and the infantry showed
perfect discipline, a mastery of tactics in the
field and the nicest precision in the use of all
arms. When Yuan Shi Kai began his study
of the modern art of war some twelve years
since, the Chinese trooper was equipped with
ox-hide buckler, a double-handed sword and
a bow and arrows. The seventy thousand
men under Yuan Shi Kai to-day, writes Mr.
F. A. McKenzie in the London Mail, wear
the best military boots and shoes, their uni-
forms are of khaki, they use Mauser rifles
and quick-firing Krupp guns, they are well
clothed, well housed and well fed and they are
led by officers of their own race inured to a
Prussian standard of military training. For
these results sole credit is given by all com-
petent authorities to Yuan Shi Kai, who had
never looked inside a work on military science
when he assumed command of a body of raw
recruits upon his return from Korea. His ap-
pointment as a general was an official cer-
tificate of disfavor.

In his official capacity as viceroy of the
province of Chi-Li, Yuan Shi Kai makes his
home at Tien-tsin. With wife and concu-
bines, his excellency is housed in a yamen ap-
proached through monstrous gates fantastic-
ally figured with emblematic dragons. In the
courtyard behind walls of scarlet, blue, yel-
low and green swagger forty or fifty gentle-
men of the military household. A whole de-
tachment of the guard is often here at drill.
Four companies of infantry parade daily.
Trumpeters and players of the flute give med-
leys of signals as they emerge at intervals in
plumed hats. Members of the personal suite
glide everywhere in trailing robes of gold or
crimson, with scarlet or green facings.

Yuan Shi Kai's own plain black gown with

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

its wide sleeves and four or five buttons down
the front gives him, amid the hues by which
he is eclipsed, somewhat the air of a portly
jackdaw in an aviary of Mexican parrots.
The hugeness of his head and the hawkish
intensity of the gaze he concentrates upon the
gorgeous officers who bring him their reports
one by one atone for the shortness of the
viceroy's stature. Yuan Shi Kai is no dwarf.
His bones are big. But he can not tower
physically while expanding laterally and he
seems, consequently, fatter than he is. But
for incessant toil, he might fill out like a bal-
loon, so mercurial is the rapidity with which
he can take on flesh. For obesity and ac-
tivity combined, he is a second Taft. Or per-
haps we should say that Taft is a second Yuan
Shi Kai.

Yuan Shi Kai gives no less time and
thought to the organization of his domestic
establishment than he devotes to his growing
army. He supervises the municipal adminis-
tration of Tien-tsin with such regard for de-
tail as to fix the price paid out for buttons
on the constables' coats. An army of spies in
Peking must report to him directly the day's do-
ings of the empress dowager. His military
studies, meanwhile, are prolonged and severe.
He and his staff spend hours of many a day
working out problems in the tactical manuals
Yuan Shi Kai can read no language but his
own. Every work on military science that
has any authority to-day has been done into
Chinese for the viceroy's own perusal. Per-
haps no living commander of troops can be
compared with Yuan Shi Kai in such knowl-
edge of his profession as is to be gleaned
from the study of books. On the walls of
his military library is transcribed Napoleon's
maxim :

"Make offensive war like Alexander, Hanni-
bal, Caesar, Gustavus Adolphus, Turenne, Prince
Eugene and Frederick. Read, re-read the history
of their eighty-three campaigns. Model yourself
on them. It is the only way to become a great
captain and to master the secrets of the art."

Eveiry promising young officer in Yuan Shi
Kai's army must get that bit by heart. The
viceroy himself quizzes his staff on the sub-
ject of the great campaigns. Why did Fred-
erick the Great win the battle of Rossbach?
What was the critical maneuver at Gettys-
burg? Need infantry fear cavalry in an or-
dinary engagement? Candidates for promo-
tion who can not personally satisfy Yuan Shi
Kai on such points do not stay in the yamen.
Nor is he a pedantic bookworm, who mis-

takes the memory work of mediocrity for a
display of real genius. He is rigorous in mat-
ters of discipline. He inspects his soldiers
man by man. He tastes their food at unex-
pected moments. He audits the bills for their
uniforms himself. He examines the cloth,
tests the weapons, tries the ammunition,
makes out the pay lists. His subordinates
are trained to take up his work wherever and
whenever he may drop it, but no one knows
when he will resume the task.

A soldier who omitted the proper salute to
a visitor at the camp was ordered beheaded.
The visitor protested to Yuan Shi Kai, who
had not yet brought his force to its present
efficiency.

"I know how to manage my own people,"
replied the viceroy.

The decapitation ensued. But never has
a culprit's head been hacked off with a blunt
sword at the orders of Yuan Shi Kai. Not
one countryman has he ever had beaten to
death. He will pour hot oil over nobody.
The reputation for eccentricity consequent
upon such squeamishness of disposition in
Yuan Shi Kai has lost nothing by his re-
fusal to tolerate insults to young women in
the streets of Tien-tsin. Time was when
girls could not walk in the thorofares
without annoyance. They were pinched and
pushed by that male type of which a western
specimen, when caught, is knocked down or
kicked out. Yuan Shi Kai devised a code of
punishment so drastic that ladies ceased to be
pestered in the viceroy's capital. Begging,
too, from a pleasant and lucrative pastime,
degenerated into a kind of suicidal folly.
During the four and a half years of Yuan
Shi Kai's sway in Tien-tsin, its streets have
been widened, a water supply, a sanitary sys-
tem and a police force set up, and life and
property made safe. Residents in the several
"concessions" at Tien-tsin — American, Brit-
ish, German, French — witnessed the progress
of the town in the direction of real municipal
government with amazement. Fears had been
entertained that a resumption of China's
authority over the city, after the adjustment
of the Boxer difficulty and the evacuation of
Tien-tsin by the allies, would mean a return
to old Peking misrule. The powers, while
they held the town, did away with its mold-
ering walls, cleaned its streets, started a rail-
way and suppressed crimes of violence. Yuan
Shi Kai trained an even better police force.
He made the streets yet cleaner. He opened
schools, endowed hospitals, extended the rail-
way facilities and improved the docks. He

CURRENT LITERATURE

introduced into the city government the same
system of accountability for all expenditure
that has made his army the most regularly
paid, fed and clothed force in the world.

Yet Yuan Shi Kai, the man, inspires mis-
trust. There is a furtiveness in the narrow
eyes that may be in keeping with a high repu-
tation for military organization, but suggests
the Machiavelli. He is ever displaying the
subtlety of some medieval Florentine. He
has tricked the diplomatic corps in Peking,
tricked the empress dowager, tricked the
Chinese emperor himself, whose long durance
in his splendid palace is the work of Yuan
Shi Kai. It seemed eight years ago as if
the young Kwang Su, newly come to the
throne after an ignominious regency, must
prove a Peter the Great. He had framed
edict after edict in a spirit of reform. But
he had no means of enforcing them. Yuan
Shi Kai had by this time licked 8,000 troops
into shape. The young emperor sent for the
mandarin. It was agreed between the pair that
certain leaders of the anti-reform clique must
be done to death out of hand. Yuan Shi Kai
was forthwith to bring his men into the pal-
ace at Peking. The dowager empress was
marked for eviction of the summary kind
practised by Irish landlords. The head of
one eminent statesman was to be cut off in
twenty-four hours.

Yuan Shi Kai hurried from the palace to
the home of the marked mandarin. This of-
ficial had been his old associate. Yuan re-
vealed the tenor of his instructions. He de-
parted with a warning that he would carry
them out on the morrow. The mandarin saw
the dowager empress that night. In two
hours the young emp'eror was locked up in
his palace and gardens. He has been a pris-
oner ever since. Yuan Shi Kai made his
ovni terms with the dowager. Peking laughed.
It understood that the only aim of Yuan Shi
Kai in all he did was personal. He is the
finished type of what the French call an "ar-
riviste." His great designs lead invariably to
his own advancement. His 70,000 soldiers
are taught loyalty — but it is loyalty to Yuan
Shi Kai. At all hazards he must be the first
man in China. Educational reform, aboli-
tion of the opium traffic, the introduction of
western ideas, the extension of railroads,
have been taken in hand one after another as
means to the same great end. Yuan Shi Kai
has done more for his native land than any
other Chinaman living, yet he has failed to
win the confidence of his countrymen. They
say he is playing a game. They pronounce

his instincts predatory. They cite instance
after instance of his bad faith.

The emperor hates him for what he deems
a black betrayal. The empress dowager hates
him because he played her false. It is scarce-
ly seven years since Yuan Shi Kai had the
white inhabitants of Tien-tsin and Peking at
his mercy. The empress had bidden him raid
the foreign settlements in Tien-tsin. His
troops were well drilled enough and plenty
enough to make the task an easy one. Obedi-
ence, nevertheless, would have ruined Yuan
Shi Kai. The powers were in a position to re-
taliate. Disobedience of the aged dowager,
on the other hand, meant his undoing. The
dilemma did not much perplex the man who
had long been making a cult of his own ca-
reer. He went forward with his 8,000 sol-
diers at the rate of a mile a day. He sent
daily reports to the palace of his onward
march against the foe. He took the utmost
precautions to avoid contact with the foreign-
ers. He assured them privately of his friend-
ly disposition. It was many months before
the empress dowager fathomed the duplicity.
Her rage was intense. Yuan pointed out to
her that his participation in the Boxer out-
rages by the empress dowager's own com-
mand would have undone them both. The
pair have acted together ever since.

In personal habits Yuan Shi Kai is abstemi-
ous, quiet and — for one of his viceregal rank
— unostentatious. He seldom dons the coats
of many colors affected in his yamen. He
never smoked opium. He keeps his finger
nails short. He does not bind the feet of
his women. The ladies of his household com-
prise one wife and, after the Chinese do-
mestic fashion, a number of concubines vary-
ing from six to eleven. He has had no in-
itiation into the mysteries of that etiquette
which made intercourse with Li Hung Chang a
thing stately and precise but subservient of no
business purpose. He loves detail so much that
he made a personal study of the plans for the
new Foreign Office building in Peking before
he would permit the foundations to be laid.
His grasp of principle has, none the less, a
comprehensiveness of scope that enabled him
recently to organise the entire Chinese cus-
toms service anew. He entertains ambassa-
dors in his yamen with princely splendor
and all the affability of Milton's archangel,
yet his origin was lowlier than Lincoln's.
Strenuous in achievement like Roosevelt, auto-
cratic in policy like William II, Yuan Shi
Kai is as much a ruler in his native land as
either.

Literature and Art

IS THE CREATIVE SPIRIT IN LITERATURE DEAD

OR DORMANT?

HE advance of mankind," Huxley
once wrote, "has everywhere de-
pended upon the production of
genius"; and it was doubtless
with this thought in mind that the New York
Outlook recently submitted the above question
to five well-known American writers — Col.
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Dr. Edward
Everett Hale, Mr. Henry M. Alden, Mr. Henry
Holt and Mr. H. W. Boynton. It is signifi-
cant that no one of the five is impelled to give
a categorical answer to the question, but that,
in spite of this fact, all write in an optimistic
spirit.

Mr. Holt, perhaps, touches the keynote of
the discussion when he says that the creative
spirit, or, as he prefers to call it, the spirit of
genius, in our age necessarily expresses itself
in terms different from those of any other age,
and may on this account be temporarily de-
preciated or overlooked. He adds :

"The heroes are not all dead, but their type is
changing, even in fiction. It will take time, how-
ever, to get the enthusiasm for the new types as
thoroughly into the blood as was that for the
old. Pasteur shut up in his laboratory until he
came out half paralyzed, with a greater boon for
humanity than any conqueror ever bore, may not
yet thrill us as the conquerors do, but he will.
The victories over temptation are not as pictur-
esque as those over mailed and standard-bear-
ing foes, but our response to them is increasing,
and the story tellers know it already."

Dr. Hale makes the assertion that "no sixty
years of the world's history has seen any such
exertion of creative force as those which have
passed since 1850" — a force exhibited no less
in literature than in science and industrial
activity. Colonel Higginson traces the line of
marked individuality through our great lit-
erary figures — Charles Brockden Brown,
Washington Irving, Fenimore Cooper, Poe,
Whitman, Whittier, Longfellow, Mark Twain ;
and concludes:

"The fact is that there are always materials
for literary work at hand, but the Creative Spirit
bath its own devices. What those devices are
we cannot tell. Under what laws that spirit
moves we know not. History shows that any
temporary inaction of the great creative impulse
is but such repose as nature provides for body
and mind in sleep. The awakening comes in due

season, as dreams grow proverbially brighter
when day approaches."

Mr. Boynton begins his reply to the ques-
tions siibmitted by likening it to the question
of a child on a cloudy day, "Has the sun gone
out, or has it only stopped shining?" He
answers tersely: "The sun will never stop
shining till it goes out." Genius may be suf-
fering eclipse; but we cannot say so confi-
dently, since "even tidal waves such as Milton
are not always observed at the moment."
Moreover, we sometimes fail to hear true
voices, "because they are not both true and
colossal." Mr. Boynton goes on to say : "Even
the next decade may see the birth of a new
world. Already there are voices and stirrings
in chaos; and the creative spirit is brooding
upon the waters."

The veteran editor of Harper's Magazine,
who gives the most satisfactory and specific
answer of the five to The Outlook's question,
pays a remarkable tribute to the literary
achievement of English-speaking authors in
our day. It is true, he admits, that we have
no Dickens or Victor Hugo, but we have
novelists, he thinks, "whose appeal to our
sensibility is quicker and stronger. Mrs. Hum-
phry Ward and Margaret Deland are far
more significant to us than a new George El-
iot would be." Mr. Alden notes "a marked
advance in imaginative* prose, more especially
in the short story," during recent years; and
continues:

"Of course nine-tenths of the fiction that gets
published, and no inconsiderable proportion of
which is commercially successful, is creative
neither in substance nor in form; but, excluding
it from our consideration, a saving remnant is
left which is a worthy contribution to imagina-
tive literature. As an offset to the promising
young writers whom distinction still awaits, it is
only fair that, in a general survey of English
and American fiction, we should claim as pi our
time the old masters who still linger with us,
such as Hardy and Meredith, James and How-
ells, and Elizabeth Stuart Phelps. Those who
follow them— Hichens, Conrad, Hewlett, Mrs.
Ward, Mary Wilkins Freeman, Mrs. Deland.
Mrs. Wharton, Sir Gilbert Parker, Miss Sinclair,
Grace EUery Channing, Abby Meguire Roach,
Alice Brown, Owen Wistcr, Booth Tarkington,
James Branch Cabell, and Justus Miles Forman
—are not unworthy successors. Some of this

CURRENT LITERATURE

later group have sounded a new note in fiction,
are distinctly new emergences in the evohition of
creative genius, and have yet to show the golden
harvest of their maturity.

"Pessimistic criticism will still bewail the pass-
ing of the older race of giants, ignoring the fact
that genius to-day does not wear the masques
of yesterday, has its new distinction, and, if not
greater than it has been in the past, is neverthe-
less in advance."

In summing up the discussion. The Outlook
editorially calls attention to a very genuine
creative movement in European literature
which the contributors to the symposium,
strangely enough, seem to have overlooked.
It says :

"The forms which the creative spirit in litera-
ture takes on change from time to time, and
genius often comes into the world in such unfore-
seen ways that men have its companionship long
before they understand with whom they are keep-
ing company. Whatever may be the ultimate
judgment of the authority of the recent dramatic
movement on the Continent as an interpretation
of experience or as an illustration of dramatic

art, that movement represents a great force, and
is an expression, on a large scale, of the creative
spirit. The absurd claims of the Ibsenites must
not make us blind to the genius of Ibsen, nor
must his wholly one-sided view of life hide from
us his extraordinary talent as a dramatist.
The illusive point of view of Maeterlinck, and
his skill in keeping himself clear of a definite
statement of his creed, must not make us in-
different to his rare gifts as a thinker and writer.
Hauptmann's 'The Sunken Bell' does not pre-
sent a final solution of the relation of the real
to the ideal, but its poetry, the appeal of its
symbolisrn, the atmosphere of imagination in
which it is steeped, would give it rank and place
in any age of creative work. Sudermann's 'Mag-
da,' Maeterlinck's 'Monna Vanna,' Paul Heyse's
'Mary of Magdala,' bring small satisfaction to
those who long for a constructive drama; but as
expressions of the drama of protest no one can
question their power. The movement as a whole
lacks coherence, spiritual insight, the larger
vision ; it is, nevertheless, another blossoming of
the creative spirit, but in forms so different from
those that preceded it that many people who have
been its contemporaries have failed to recognize
its significance or its beauty."

A NEW CRITICAL ONSLAUGHT ON SHAKESPEARE

S Shakespeare's genius a colossal
illusion, suggested to the world by
Goethe and assiduously fostered by
critics, that, having held enthralled
men's minds for many centuries, pales in the
light of modern criticism? Monstrous as this
assumption may appear to many, it certainly
suggests itself in view of the rise, in different
parts of the globe, of bold and earnest men
almost simultaneously assailing the fame of one
generally heretofore conceded to be the great-
est dramatic poet the earth has ever known.
In Germany Dr. Karl Bleibtreu, critic and
poet, proclaims that not William Shakespeare,
the actor, but the Earl of Rutland, is the true
author of the works commonly known as
Shakespeare's. Dr. Bleibtreu, in his "History
of English Literature," rejected as absurd the
theories of the Baconians, adopting instead
the conventional view. His investigations,
however, have led him to accept this new and
startling theory, which has received the en-
dorsement of at least one eminent German
critic, Dr. William Turszinsky. His argu-
ments in confirmation of the thesis, however,
need not concern us here, as they reflect in
no way upon the merit of the dramas and
poems in question. Nor need we more than
chronicle Bernard Shaw's" attacks on Shake-
speare, first printed in his preface to "Three
Plays for Puritans," repeated in his "Dramatic
Opinions," from which we quote in another

department, and strongly reiterated in a re-
cent letter now published in company with a
formidable onslaught from the pen of Leo
Tolstoy.

The immediate occasion for the great Rus-
sian's monograph* was an essay from the pen
of Ernest Crosby, which appears as an ap-
pendix to the present work, and in which
Shakespeare's contempt for the common people
is plausibly set forth. The author of "Anna
Karenina" has before put himself on record
with an iconoclastic utterance, quoted in Nor-
dau's "Degeneration," that Shakespeare was
"a scribbler by the dozen." For many years
Tolstoy has planned to reveal in full the rea-
sons why he regards Shakespeare as perhaps
the most pernicious influence in literature. He
says :

"My disagreement with the established opinion
about Shakespeare is not the result of an acci-
dental frame of mind, nor of a light-minded atti-
tude toward the matter, but is the outcome of
many years' repeated and insistent endeavors to
harmonize my own views of Shakespeare with
those established amongst all civilized men of the
Christian world.

"I remember the astonishment I felt when I
first read Shakespeare. I expected to receive a
powerful esthetic pleasure; but having read, one
after the other, works regarded as his best —
'King Lear,' 'Romeo and Juliet,' 'Hamlet' and
'Macbeth,' — not only did I feel no delight, but I
felt an irresistible repulsion and tedium, and

•Tolstoy on Shakespeare. Funk & Wagnalls Company.

LITERATURE AND ART

doubted as to whether I was senseless in feeling
works regarded as the summit of perfection by
the whole of the civilized world to be trivial and
positively bad, or whether the significance which
this civilized world attributes to Shakespeare was
itself senseless. My consternation was increased
by the fact that I always keenly felt the beauties
of poetry in every form; then why should artistic
works recognized by the whole world as those of
a genius,— the works of Shakespeare, — not only
fail to please me, but be disagreeable to me? For
a long time I could not believe in myself, and
during fifty years, in order to test myself, I sev-
eral times recommenced reading Shakespeare in
every possible form, in Russian, in English, in
German and in Schlegel's translation, as I was
advised. Several times I read the dramas and
the comedies and historical plays, and I invariably
underwent the same feelings : repulsion, weariness,
and bewilderment. At the present time, before
writing this preface, being desirous once more to
test myself, I have as an old man of seventy-five
read again the whole of Shakespeare, including
the historical plays, the 'Henry's,' 'Troilus and
Cressida,' the 'Tempest.' and 'Cymbeline,' and I
have felt, with even greater force, the same feel-
ings,— this time, however, not of bewilderment,
but of firm, indubitable conviction that the unques-
tionable glory of a great genius which Shakes-
peare enjoys, which compels writers of our time
to imitate him and readers and spectators to dis-
cover in him non-existent merits, — thereby dis-
torting their esthetic and ethical understanding,—
is a great evil, as in every untruth.

"Altho I know that the majority of people so
firmly believe in the greatness of Shakespeare that
in reading this judgrnent of mine they will not
admit even the possibility of its justice, and will
not give it the slightest attention, nevertheless I
will endeavor as well as I can. to show why I be-
lieve that Shakespeare can not be recognized
either as a great genius, or even as an average
author."

Tolstoy thereupon dissects "King Lear," as
that play has been pronounced by the greatest
critics, from Hazlitt to Swinburne, from Shel-
ley to Hugo, Shakespeare's master effort. He
tells the story of the plot in a manner such
as would make any work ridiculous, at the
same time pointing out some real incoherencies
and faults. Then, summarizing his impres-
sions, he remarks:

■ "Such is this celebrated drama! However
absurd it may appear in my rendering (which 1
have endeavored to make as impartial as possible),
I may confidently say that in the original it is yet
more absurd. For any man of our time— if he
were not under the hypnotic suggestion that this
drama is the height of perfection— it would be
enough to read it to its end (were he to have
sufficient patience for this) to be convinced that
far from being the height of perfection, it is a
very bad, carelessly composed production, which,
if it could have been of interest to a certain pub-
lic at a certain time, cannot evoke among us any-
thing but aversion and weariness."

The positions in which Shakespeare's char-
acters are arbitrarily placed are, we are told,

so construed that the reader or spectator is
not only unable to sympathize with their suf-
ferings, but even to be interested in what he
sees. Their language, too, the writer avers,
is inconsistent with the place and time. It
lacks individuality. They speak not their own
but always one and the same pretentious
Shakespearean language, in which "not only
they could not speak, but in which no living
man has ever spoken or does speak." Nor is
this all.

"They all suflfer from a common intemperance
of language. Those who are in love, who are pre-
paring for death, who are fighting, who are dying,
all alike speak much and unexpe.ctedly about sub-
jects utterly inappropriate to the occasion, being
evidently rather guided by consonances and play
of words than by thoughts. They speak all alike.
Lear raves exactly as does Edgar when feigning
madness. Both Kent and the fool speak alike.
The words of one of the personages might be
placed in the mouth of another, and by the charac-
ter of the speech it would be impossible to distin-
guish who speaks. H there is a difference in the
speech of Shakespeare's various characters, it lies
merely in the different dialogs which are pro-
nounced for these characters — again by Shake-
speare and not by themselves. Thus Shakespeare
always speaks for kings in one and the same in-
flated empty language. Also in one and the same
Shakespearean, artificially sentimental language
speak all the women who are intended to be poetic :
Juliet, Desdemona, Cordelia, Imogen, Mariana. In
the same way, also, it is Shakespeare who alone
speaks for his villains: Richard, Edmund, lago,
Macbeth, expressing for them those vicious feel-
ings which villains never express. Yet more simi-
lar are the speeches of the madmen with their hor-
rible words, and those of fools with their mirth-
less puns."

Count Tolstoy next sets about to de-
molish the contention that Shakespeare at
least created a few eternal human types. He
speaks in detail of the characters of Hamlet
and Falstaff. The latter, he observes, is per-
haps the only natural and typical character
created by Shakespeare. The language
he employs, unnatural to Shakespeare's other
dramatic persons, is quite in harmony with his
boastful, distorted and depraved character.
Hamlet, he says, has no character at all. But
as it is recognized that Shakespeare, the
genius, cannot write anything bad, therefore
learned people use all the powers of their
minds to find extraordinary beauties in what is
"an obvious and crying failure."

There is, however, to be found in Shake-
speare one peculiarity which, Tolstoy goes on
to say, may appear to be the capacity of de-
picting character.

"This peculiarity consists in the capacity of
representing scenes expressing the play of emo-
tion. However unnatural the positions may be in

CURRENT LITERATURE

which he places his characters, however improper
to them the language which he makes them speak,
however featureless they are, the very play of
emotion, its increase and alteration, and the com-
bination of many contrary feelings as expressed
correctly and powerfully in some of Shakespeare's
scenes, and in the play of good actors, evokes,
even if only for a time, sympathy with the per-
sons represented."

"Ah," will some say, "what of this? Are
not Shakespeare's monologues and the philos-
ophy therein expressed truly great?" Tolstoy
is ready to answer this query. No, he tells us,
they are neither deep nor appropriate; and
"speeches, however eloquent or profound they
may be, when put into the mouths of dramatic
characters, if they be superfluous or unnatural
to the position and character, destroy the chief
condition of dramatic art — the illusion."

Yet again, the Shakespearean will reply :
"You must not neglect the historical estimate.
Remember the time in which Shakespeare
lived and the audience for which he wrote."
Even so, Count Tolstoy replies, in Homer, too,
there is much that is strange, but we can
transport ourselves into the life he described,
because he believes what he says and speaks
seriously without exaggeration. Not so, he
says, with Shakespeare. He has conceived
his characters only for the stage, and there-
fore we do not believe either in their actions
or their sufferings. To quote further:

"Nothing demonstrates so clearly the complete
absence of esthetic feeling in Shakespeare as com-
parison between him and Homer. The works
which we call the works of Homer are artistic,
poetic and original works, lived through by the
author of authors; whereas the works of Shake-
speare— borrowed as they are and, externally, like
mosaics, artificially fitted together piecemeal from
bits in\ented for the occasion — have nothing what-
ever in common with art and poetry."

"When," Count Tolstoy goes on to say, "I
endeavor to get from Shakespeare's worship-
ers an explanation of his greatness, I meet
in them exactly the same attitude which I
have met, and which is usually met, in the
defenders of any dogmas accepted not through
reason, but through faith." This attitude, he
tells us, gave him the key to Shakespeare's
fame:

"There is but one explanation of this wonderful
fame : it is one of those epidemic suggestions to
which men constantly have been and are subject.
Such 'suggestion' always has existed and does
exist in the most varied spheres of life. As glar-
ing instances, considerable in scope and deceitful
influences, one may cite the medieval Crusades
which afflicte'!, not only adults, but even children.
and the individual 'suggestions,' startling in their

senselessness, such as faith in witches, in the
utility of torture for the discovery of truth, the
search for the elixir of life, the philosopher's
stone, or the passion for tulips valued at several
thousand guldens a bulb which took hold of
Holland."

This Shakespeare epidemic, claims Tolstoy,
came about when the Germans, breaking away
from the classical writers, chose Shakespeare's
plays as models, because of the clever develop-
ment of scenes, of which he was master. At
the head of this group, he tells us, stood
Goethe, who was the dictator of public opinion
in esthetic questions.

"He it was who, partly owing to a desire to de-
stroy the fascination of the false French art, partly
owing to his desire to give a greater scope to his
own dramatic writing, but chiefly through the
agreement of his view of life with Shakespeare's,
declared Shakespeare a great poet. When this
error was announced by an authority like Goethe,
all those esthetic critics who did not understand
art threw themselves on it like crows on carrion
and began to discover in Shakespeare beauties
which did not exist and to extol them. These men,
German esthetic critics, for the most part utterly
devoid of esthetic feeling, without that simple,
direct artistic sensibility which, for people with a
feeling for art, clearly distinguishes esthetic im-
pressions from all others, but believing the au-
thority which had recognized Shakespeare as a
great poet, began to praise the whole of Shake-
speare indiscriminately, especially distinguishing
such passages as struck them by their effects, or
which expressed thoughts corresponding to their
views of life, imagining that these effects and
these thoughts constitute the essence of what is
called art."

When it was decided, says Tolstoy, in con-
cluding, that the height of perfection was
Shakespeare's drama, and that we ought to
write as he did, not only without any religious,
but even without any moral significance, then
all writers of dramas, in imitation of him, be-
gan to compose such empty pieces as are those
of Goethe, Schiller, Hugo, and, in Russia, of
Pushkin, or the chronicles of Ostrovski, Alexis
Tolstoy, and an innumerable number of other
more or less celebrated dramatic productions
which fill all the theaters, and can be prepared
wholesale by any one who happens to have the
idea or desire to write a play.

From this general ihdictment Count Tolstoy
does not exclude his own dramatic writings.

Here, however, the great Russian reveals
the underlying motive of his attack. It seems
that he is of the opinion that the drama
should return to the days of the Middle Ages,
when it was intimately connected with re-
ligion and that, "while there is no true
religious drama, the teaching of life should
be sought for in ether sources.**

SEVEN AMERICAN MEN
OF LETTERS

Whom Two Generations Have
Delighted to Honor

WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH

SAMUEL L. CLEMENS THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON

EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN EDWARD EVERETT HALE

HENRY M. ALDEN

'* As the lesser enthusiasms fade and iaJl, one should take a stronger
hold on the higher ones. * Grizzling hair the brain doth dear,* and

one sees in better perspective the things that need doing

Grand old men are those who have been grand young men and
carry still a young heart beneath old shoulders." — Daoid Starr Jordan.

THE DEAN OF AMERICAN NOVELISTS

William D. Howells (his middle initial very properly stands for Dean) will arrive at
Pier 70 (to use Mark Twain's expression) on the first day of March. He is as much as ever
"A Traveller from Altruria," and still commands with undiminished skill, the "Stops of
Various Quills." One of those quills is the novelist's, one the poet's, one the essayist's.

MARK TWAIN AT "PIER SEVENTY!"

When his seventieth birthday was celebrated a year ago, Samuel L. Clemens remarked :

The seventieth birthday! It is the time of life when you arrive at a new and awful dignity;

when you may throw aside the decent reserves which have oppressed you for a generation

and stand unafraid and unabashed upon your seven-terraced summit and look down and

teach — unrebuked."

THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TODAY

His photograph and the almanac contradict each other "scandalous." Frank Dempster
Sherman, at the recent celebration of Mr. Aldrich's seventieth anniversary, wrote :

"They know not age ; no, nor dost thou, in truth,
For thou with laurels green on locks of gold
Hast reached but now the poet's dewy prime.

"A thousand years ! O song-enamored youth.
Thy lyric castles never shall grow old.
Nor ruin mar their airy walls of rhyme."

■^'cy^.r,:.

'^'^^-^^<

EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN, POET AND CRITIC

Mr. Stedman also yielded to the decision of the almanac three years ago and underwent
a seventieth anniversary. Mr. Howells at that time read a poem containing these lines:

'Poet, more poet for beauty than for fame,
'Sage for the sake of being, not seemnig wise,
'Preacher of truth, and not of praise or blame ;

"Critic whose law inspires as well as tries,
"You who have deepened and enlarged your day,
"You shall remain when it has passed away."

SOLDIER, ESSAYIST, POET

Thomas Wentworth Higginson can look back over the "Cheerful Yesterdays" of
eighty-three years. But, as he wrote years ago :

"Love and Pain "The life they own is not the life we see;

Make true our measure of all things that be, Love's single moment is .eternity,

No clock's slow ticking marks their deathless strain. Eternity, a thought in Shakespeare's brain."

THE PREACHER OF PATRIOTISM

Edward Everett Hale, everybody's friend, passed Pier 80 more than four years ago,
and from the summit of his long and glorious life, writh mind still alert and heart still
glowing, he looks down upon the mere youngsters who are only seventy. His "Man
Without a Country" has become a classic, and "In His Name" is a favorite in many lands.

AFTER THIRTY-SEVEN YEARS AS EDITOR

Henry Mills Alden has wielded the blue pencil for Harper's Magazine ever since 1869,
and his seventieth birthday a few weeks ago was the occasion of unlimited greetings from a
host of noted writers. Various works of a philosophical nature attest, as one critic has
said, that, while the most practical of editors, he "is in reality a poet and in another age
he might have been a mystic."

LITERATURE AND ART

THE MYSTIC DREAM OF LAFCADIO HEARN

ROM the hour of his birth on a
sunht Greek island until the day
when he was carried behind flowers
and white lanterns and laid to rest
in a Buddhist cemetery, the life of Lafcadio
Heam was dominated by a strange and mystic
.vision. For him, in very truth, the dream was
more real than reality, its pursuit the only
object of living; and all who were privileged
to know him intimately fell under the spell of
this idealist passion. As his friend, Eliza-
beth Bisland, describes him, in her newly pub-
lished "Life and Letters of Lafcadio Heam" :*

"He was one of those whom Socrates called
'daemonic,' one who had looked in secret places,
face to face, upon the magic countenance of the
Muse, and was thereafter vowed to the quest of
the Holy Cup wherein glows the essential blood of
beauty. One who must follow forever in poetry
hard after the Dream, leaving untouched on either
hand the goods for which his fellows strove;
falling at times into the mire, torn by the thorns,
that others evade, lost often, and often over-
taken by the night of discouragement and despair,
but rising again from besmirchments and defac-
ing£ to follow the vision to the end."

It has often been noted that the failure of
one human faculty but sharpens the remain-
ing senses ; and, in Hearn's case, the unfor-
tunate accident which deprived him at an
early age of the use of one eye and perma-
nently disfigured his face, seems only to have
heightened his imaginative powers. His de-
formity made him a man apart, and set him
in loneliness which sometimes depressed and
weakened him, but more often stimulated his
creative activity. A poet he was by the law
of his being. From his Irish father and Greek
mother he inherited something of his roman-
ticism. His restlessness, too, can be attributed
in part at least, to their nomadic life. "I
inherit certain susceptibilities, weaknesses, sen-
sitivenesses," he once said, "which render it
impossible to adapt myself to the ordinary
milieu; I have to make one of my own wher-
ever I go."

The train of events that precipitated Hearn,
friendless and penniless, in the streets of New
York during the year 1869, is shrouded in ob-
scurity; but his subsequent life in Cincinnati,
in New Orleans, in the West Indies, in Japan,
is vividly illumined by the letters now given
to the world — a collection which, in the

*The Life and Letters of Lafcadio Hearn. By Eliza-
beth Bisland. Two Volumes. Houghton, MiflRin i
Company.

Opinion of no less a critic than James Hune-
ker, constitutes "the most entertaining, self-re-
vealing, even fascinating, literary correspond-
ence published since the death of Robert
Louis Stevenson." They are addressed for
the most part to Henry Edward Krehbiel, the
musical critic of the New York Tribune; W.
D. O'Connor, the champion of Walt Whit-
man ; Dr. George M. Gould, the eminent Phila-
delphia oculist, Page M. Butler, editor of the
New Orleans Times-Democrat; and to Basil
Hall Chamberlain, Ellwood Hendrick and
Elizabeth Bisland (now Mrs. Wetmore).
With all of these friends Hearn candidly dis-
cusses his problems, his struggles, his aspira-
tions. According to Miss Bisland's interpre-
tation :

"These letters make clear, as no comment could
adequately do, how unflinchingly he pursued his
purpose to become an artist, through long dis-
couragement, through poverty and self-sacrifice;
make clear how the Dream never failed to lead
him, and how broad a foundation of study and
discipline he laid during his apprenticeship for the
structure he was later to rear for his own monu-
ment. They also disclose, as again no comment
could do, the modesty of his self-appreciation, and
the essentially enthusiastic and affectionate nature
of his character."

In his attitude toward his fellow-authors
there has seldom been a more generous spirit
than Lafcadio Hearn. Toward his own liter-
ary work he was relentlessly severe; but the
efiforts of his friends almost invariably won
his commendation. "I consider yours a higher
style than mine," he writes to Mr. Krehbiel,
and in another place he speaks of Bayard Tay-
lor as a man of "much greater talent" than
himself. It was doubtless this lack of self-
confidence that led him, during the early stages
of his career, to make translations of liter-
ary masterpieces, rather than to attempt crea-
tive work of his own. He seemed almost to
live on his literary enthusiasms. Flaubert, de
Maupassant, Pierre Loti, Theophile Gautier,
he idolized; and of Victor Hugo he says:
"His prose is like the work of Angelo — the
paintings in the Sistine Chapel, the figures
described by Emilio Castelar as painted by
flashes of lightning. He is one of those who
appear but once in five hundred years." The
imaginative genius of these great masters
helped to quench Hearn's insatiable thirst for
beauty, and to transfigure days of dull jour-
nalistic routine. After business hours and into
the small hours of the morning he worked,

CURRENT LITERATURE

straining his weak eyesight almost beyond the
point of endurance. This period of Hearn's
dream-life is recorded in volumes of translated
stories such as "One of Cleopatra's Nights"
and "Stray Leaves from Strange Literature."
The motive that impelled him to this work is
plainly stated in a letter to Mr. Krehbiel :

"What you say about the disinclination to work
for years upon a theme for pure love's sake, with-
out hope of reward, touches me, — because I have
felt that despair so long and so often. And yet
I believe that all the world's art-work — all that
which is eternal — was thus wrought. And I also
believe that no work made perfect for the pure
love of art can perish, save by strange and rare
accident. Despite the rage of religion and of
time, we know Sappho found no rival, no equal.

KAZUO

o TWO OLDER

CHILDREN

LAFCADIO HEARN IN JAPANESE COSTUME
His newly printed letters are pronounced by James
Huneker "the most entertaining, self-revealing, even
fascinating literary correspondence published since the
death of Robert Louis Stevenson."

Irish-Greek on one side of their parentage, Japanese
on the other.

Rivers changed their courses and dried up, — seas
became deserts, since some Egyptian romanticist
wrote the story of Latin-Khamois. Do you sup-
pose he ever received $00 for it?

"Yet the hardest of all sacrifices for the artist
is this sacrifice to art, — this trampling of self
under foot. It is the supreme test for admittance
into the ranks of the eternal priests. It is the
bitter and fruitless sacrifice which the artist's soul
is bound to make, — as in certain antique cities
maidens were compelled to give their virginity
to a god of stone ! But without the sacrifice can
we hope for the grace of heaven?"

This was one phase of Lafcadio Hearn's
changing dream. At the time when he gave
it expression he was under the glamor of
woman and art, getting his impressions largely
through books, and making himself the instru-
ment of other men's thoughts. Later, he was
destined to become more and more absorbed
in the interpretation, for its own sake, of the
essential principle of beauty.

The idea grew upon him that his was to be
the mission of "a literary Columbus" discover-

LITERATURE AND ART

HEARN'S BUNGALOW IN TOKYO
Showing the writing room in which he worked, and
in which he died.

ing and revealing a "Romantic America in
some West Indian or North African or Ori-
ental region" ; and it was with this thought in
mind that he visited in 1884 Grand Isle, in
the Gulf of Mexico. Out of the experience
grew "Chita," the story of a girl child wrecked
in a great storm and rescued by the natives of
a tropical island. It was a parable of the con-
trast between "civilization" and elemental life.
Three years later he sailed for St. Pierre, in
Martinique, living for a time amidst its fan-
*tastic people, and recording under the shadow
of Mount Pelee, "coiffed with purple and
lilac cloud," the account of a town and popu-
lation now obliterated as completely as was
Pompeii.

But Hearn's dream was still unrealized.
Islands set under tropical skies, exquisite in
their aspect of outward beauty but spirit-
ually undeveloped, intellectually barren and
impotent, might fascinate him for a while, but
could not hold him permanently. Already his
eyes were turned in the direction of further
horizons, already his visionary instinct was
leading him. toward the mysterious Orient
and that Eastern wisdom which, as he him-
self has said, "fathomed the deepest deeps of
human thought before the Greek was born."

In the Spring of 1890 he put America be-
hind his back and set out for Japan. The
date marks a new epoch in his literary career.
During the years that followed until his death
he became a world-figure, interpreting "the
soul of the East" to the Western nations.

Perhaps he never himself quite realized,
remarks Miss Bisland, the importance of the
work that he had chosen. She continues :

"In place of gathering up in the outlying parts
of the new world the dim tattered fragments of
old-world romance — as a collector might seek in
Spanish-American cities bits of what were once
the gold-threaded, glowing tapestries brought to

adorn the exile of Conquistadores — ^he had the
good fortune to assist at one of the great births
of history. Out of 'a race as primitive as the
Etruscan before Rome was' — as he declared he
found them — he was to see a mighty modern
nation spring full-armed, with all the sudden
miraculous transformation of some great mailed
beetle bursting from the grey hidden shell of a
feeble-looking pupa. He saw the fourteenth cen-
tury turn swiftly, amazingly into the twentieth,
and his twelve volumes of studies of the Japanese
people were to have that unique and lasting value
that would attach to equally painstaking records
of Greek life before the Persian wars. Inestima-
ble, immortal, would be such books — could they
anywhere be founH — setting down the faiths, the
traditions, the daily lives, the songs, the dances,
the names, the legends, the humble love of plants,
birds and insects, of that people who suddenly
stood up at Thermopylae, broke the wave from the
East, made Europe possible, and set the corner-
stone of Occidental thought. This was what
Lafcadio Hearn, a little penniless, half-blind, ec-

LAFCADIO HEARN'S GRAVE
Hearn was buried according to Buddhist rites, and
his gravestone bears the inscription: "Believing Man
Similar to Undefiled Flower Blooming like Eight Ris-
ing Clouds, Who Dwells in Mansion of Right En-
li^tenment."

CURRENT LITERATURE

centric wanderer had come to do for Japan. To
make immortal the story of the childhood of a
people as simple as the early Greeks, who were
to break at Mukden the great wave of conquest
from the West and to rejuvenate the most ancient
East."

But in the end, — and here lies the real
tragedy of Lafcadio Hearn's career — even
Japan lost its M^itchery. He married a Japan-
ese wife, became the father of four children,
converted himself into a subject of the Mikado,
inspired Japanese youth through his lectures
and writings, sent back marvelous books to the
world he had left ; and yet — he was not happy,
his dream was not realized ! The saddest ele-
ment in his letters is that of increasing disillu-
sionment. He lived among the Japanese, and
had their respect and affection; but, after all,
he could never forget that he was a stranger in
a strange land. At times he was very lonely, —
he confesses it and tells of days and weeks
when he saw no living being outside of his own
household. He worked intensely, but his la-
bors brought him pain, as well as joy. Worst
of all, there came upon him overwhelmingly,
at the last, the consciousness that the Japan
he had loved and sought was fading away, and
that in its place would grow "civilization" —
the very thing he had traveled ten thousand
miles to escape. And so he came to write :

"For no little time these fairy folk can give you
all the softness of sleep. But sooner or later, if

you dwell among them, your contentment will
prove to have much in common with the happi-
ness of dreams. You will never forget the dream
— never; but it will lift at last, like those vapors
of Spring which lend preternatural loveliness to
a Japanese landscape in the forenoon of radiant
days. Really you are happy because you have
entered bodily into Fairyland, into a world that
is not, and never could be, your own. . . .
That is the secret of the strangeness and beauty
of things, the secret of the thrill they give. . . .
The tide of time has turned for you ! But re-
member that here all is enchantment, that you
have fallen under the spell of the dead, that the
lights and the colors and the voices must fade
away at last into emptiness and silence."

Lafcadio Hearn died a disappointed man. His
mystic dream lost its luster, like a flower in the
wind. He realized that the archaic romance
he had striven to cherish could not endure in
the twentieth century. He felt that the world
at large was soon to pass under the iron heel
of a Socialism which, with Herbert Spencer, he
interpreted as "a coming slavery." More than
once, in the latter days, he voiced a sense of
failure, and spoke of the desolation of lives
haunted by "the impossible ideal." And yet,
he said, the eternal quest must go on. A man
may find that he has been cheated out of his
youth and life ; but he must not give up. "The
hair of Lilith — ^just one — has been twisted •
around his heart, — an ever tightening fine line
of gold. And he sees her smile just ere he
passes into the Eternal darkness."

A POET'S TRIBUTE TO THE POWER OF THE

LIVING VOICE

R. W. B. YEATS, the Celtic poet
who lately visited our shores, is
convinced that much of the nerve-
less quality of modern literature
is due to the fact that our books are written
to be read, instead of to be spoken. "Before
men read," he remarks, "the ear and the
tongue were subtle, and delighted one another
with the little tunes that were in words. All
literature was then, whether in the mouth of
its minstrels or the singers, the perfection of
an art that everybody practised, a flower out
of the stem of life." But now words are
coined for trim printed pages; their elemental
rhythm and passion are gone. As Mr. Yeats
puts it (in The Contemporary Review) :

"When one takes a book into the corner, one
surrenders so much life fbr one's knowledge, so

much, I mean, of that normal activity that gives
one life and strength, one lays away one's own
handiwork and turns from one's friend, and, if the
book is good, one is at some pains to press all the
little wanderings and tumults of the mind into
silence and quiet. If the reader be poor, if he has
worked all day at the plow or the desk, he will
hardly have strength enough for any but a mere-
tricious book; nor is it only when the book is on
the knees that one's life must be given for it. For
a good and sincere book needs the preparation of
the peculiar studies and reveries that prepare for
good taste, and make it easier for the mind to find
pleasure in a new landscape ; and all these reveries
and studies have need of so much time and
thought that it is almost certain a man cannot be a
successful doctor, or engineer, or Cabinet Minister,
and have a culture good enough to escape the
mockery of the ragged art student who comes of
an evening sometimes to borrow a half-sovereign.
The old culture came to a man at his work ; it was
not at the expense of life, but an exaltation of life
itself, it canre in at the eyei as some dvic cere-

LITERATURE AND ART

mony sailed along the streets, or as one arrayed
oneself before the looking-glass, or it came in at
the ears in a song as one bent over the plow or
the anvil, or at that great table where rich and
poor sat down together and heard the minstrel
bidding them pass around the wine cup and say a
prayer for Gawain dead. Certainly it came with-
out a price ; it did not take one from one's friends
and one's handiwork; but it was like a good
woman who gives all for love and is never jealous
and is ready to do all the talking when we are
tired."

Looking out over Europe to-day, Mr. Yeats
discerns much wistful longing, in a world
that reads and writes, for that older world
that sang and listened. "The Provenqal move-
ment, the Welsh, the Czech," he observes,
"have all been attempting to restore what is
called a more picturesque way of life, that is
to say, a way of life in which the common
man has some share in imaginative art."
Above all, the Irish movement, to which Mr.
Yeats is devoting himself, is rooted in the
popular art which once inspired bards and
singers. To quote again:

"Ireland, her imagination at its noon before the
birth of Chaucer, has created the most beautiful
literature of a whole people that has been any-
where since Greece and Rome, while English lit-
erature, the greatest of all literatures but that of
Greece, is yet the literature of a few. Nothing of
it but a handful of ballads about Robin Hood has
come from the folk or belongs to them rightly, for
the good English writers, with a few exceptions
that seem accidental, have written for a small cul-
tivated class; and is not this the reason? Irish
poetry and Irish stories were made to be spoken
or sung, while English literature, alone of great
hteratures because the newest of them all, has all
but completely shaped itself in the printing press.
In Ireland to-day the old world that sang and
listened is, it may be for the last time in Europe,
face to face with the world that reads and writes."

Mr. Yeats feels that all who cherish the
literature of the living voice should do what
they can to "kindle the old imaginative life,"
wherever it exists. It is in this spirit that he
has taken charge of the Abbey Theater, in
Dublin, and is presenting there poetic drama
based on the Irish legends. Apart from this
special venture, he pleads for a general revival
of recitation in our time — not the after-din-
ner recitations of our drawing-rooms, but the
art of poetic recitation, as practised, for in-
stance, by Miss Farr, the London lady who
recites Homer to the accompaniment of a
stringed instrument. He might also have
mentioned the declamations of Madame Maet-
erlinck and Madame Yvette Guilbert. Mr.
Yeats's idea of the living voice in literature
would have been admirably exemplified, as he

himself suggests, in William Morris, if that
great poet, when he summoned his friends
to his house on Sunday evenings, had read
them his poems, instead of delivering Socialist
speeches. And incidentally, says Mr. Yeats,
Morris's verse would have been improved in
the process. He continues:

"Everyone who has to interest his audience
through the voice discovers that his success de-
pends upon the clear, simple and varied structure
of his thought. I have written a good many plays
in verse and prose, and almost all those plays I
have re-written after performance, sometimes
again and again, and every change that has suc-
ceeded has been an addition to the masculine ele-
ment, an increase of strength in the bony
structure."

It is precisely this access of "bony struc-
ture," comments the New York Evening Post,
that modern literature most needs. The same
paper says further:

"The hypothesis that most books of the last fifty
years have been written by deaf people for deaf
people would explain many things. It would
throw some light on the admitted saplessness of
current French prose. Possibly the average re-
view article, with all its erudition and keenness, is
pale and monotonous simply because it was
never heard nor meant to be heard. Like a muted
instrument, such a style has neither legato nor ac-
cent. And that is the prose of the day, whether
you look to Fraince, Germany, Italy, or, nearer
home, to England and America. Everywhere the
same respectable, lifeless, insipid product. Certain
scholars in Germany have recommended that
school children be taught not to pronounce men-
tally when reading, because more ground may be
covered the other way. The prevalence of such
literary deafness would go far to account for
the present condition of polite letters beyond the
Rhine, though the defect is well «iigh universal.

"To recall the exceptional modern writers who
are in any sense eloquent, is, we believe, to name
those who hear their writings and desire that
others should hear them. D'Annunzio, Anatole
France, Thomas Hardy, are of this tjp^, whereas
one might confidently assert that Fogazzaro, Bour-
get, and Mrs. Humphry Ward compose without
auditory satisfaction of any sort. , The distinction
is presumably psychological and fundamental.
Just as all memories are classed as visual or ver-
bal, so all minds are auditory or the contrary,
tending in the first case to associate sound and
sense, in the second to eliminate sound altogether.
A reader of an introspective sort tells us that in
reading poetry he habitually recites it mentally,
whereas he seldom hears prose at all, but occa-
sionally is checked by an instinct that a passage is
finely cadenced, in which case he rolls it lovingly
under his mental tongue. Eloquent verse will
stimulate the inaudible recitation to an actual
whisper, or even a croon. This appears to be a
case of a good — that is to say, an auditory —
reader, forced into the deaf, or merely ocular, class
by a large bulk of duty-feading that must be done
at high speed. The future of literature depends
largely upon writers and readers who are in some
fashion obedient to the living voice."

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE GREATEST FORCE IN FRENCH PAINTING TO-DAY

MONG contemporary French artists,
there is no more brilliant and vivid
figure than that of Albert Besnard.
He is a painter of life and light,
a magician of color, a man who, as
one critic puts it, "has seen in the pa-
roxysm of a moment the truth revealed by
his contact with the infinite." His work
is optimistic, and gleams like a star against
the somewhat somber skies of modern French
art. Born in 1849, ^^ has now reached the
period of full maturity, and like Rodin he en-
joys that rarest of the blessings of genius — the
prescience of permanent renown. Tho as
dififerent as well may be in character from

Courtesy of The Internatiana/jStudio,

"AT REST"

(By Albert Besnard)

"As a horse painter," writes Frances Keyzer in The Studio, "M. Besnard

has no equal in France. We feel the caress in the ruddy browns, in the

flossy coats of the ponies, and admire the freedom of drawing in all his

impressions of the horse."

Rodin, his art is as full of individuality and
originality as that of France's master-genius.
It is also as prolific and diversified. Besnard
is one of those geniuses of herculean frame
who are able to perform prodigies of labor
without apparent fatigue. The list of his
works is a formidable one, and comprises
portraits, historical and symbolic subjects,
and fresco work on large surfaces.

What lends especial charm to Besnard's art
is its refinement and spirituality linked to a
haunting lyric quality which can only be ex-
pressed by likening it to certain poetry. Bes-
nard is the Shelley of painters, whose lyric
genius is "half angel and half bird and all a
wonder and a wild desire."
Each canvas is a living poem,
the expression of some phase
of beauty caught on the wing
among a thousand others, ideal-
ized, and irradiated with light.
The distinctive pessimism
which as a result of the break-
ing down of the religious con-
ceptions of two thousands years
has invaded all the forms of
contemporary art and litera-
ture, finds no echo in Albert
Besnard. In his idea light and
goodness always triumph over
darkness and evil. To him joy
and beauty, health and move-
ment, color and. light, are real-
ities expressing the beneficent
purpose at the heart of things.
His philosophy is the exact op-
posite of that of Schopenhauer,
who is so much admired by his
countrymen. His works pro-
claim the gospel of happiness
and give the lie to the favorite
art theory that evil is more in-
teresting than goodness. Need-
less to say, no trace of asceti-
cism is to be found in his many-
sided nature. Like Landor, he
has "warmed both hands at the
fire of life," and one might say
of him what Renan said of him-
self, that life has been a pleas-
ant excursion among the won-
ders of the infinite.

As regards the intimate and
technical nature of Besnard's
art, conflicting opinions have

LITERATURE AND ART

been expressed by Parisian crit-
ics. Henri Frantz, a writer in
The International Studio, char-
acterizes him as "the greatest
force in French painting of the
day"; and adds: "No one since
Turner has conjured with light
so divinely." Mrs. Frances Key ■
zer, another Studio writer, de-
clares :

"M. Besnard is a man of undis-
puted talent, a fantaisiste, with an
impulsive temperament, quick to
take impressions, and with a great
gift of assimilation. His work is
highly decorative, of clever
draughtsmanship and luminous col-
or, sometimes bold, sometimes car-
essing, always captivating; charm-
ing the senses without touching the
mind; picturesque, even marvelous-
ly so, but with the picturesqueness
of the rainbow, with as quickly fad-
ing an impression."

Camille Mauclair, whose work
on Rodin has given him an inter-
national reputation, contributes
an illuminating critique of Bes-
nard to L'Art (Paris), from
which we quote as follows:

"Albert Besnard, alone among the
artists of our time, has elevated the
idea of joy to the dignity of a
classic. This exuberant joy does
not wear an eternal smile; it recog-
nizes the existence of pain. There
come moments when it indulges in
a nervous laugh ; it can contract
with feline pleasure, at once rest-
less and violent; it can relax in a
troubled languor. This is because it does not
cease to be human and has all our passions.
It is elegant, blooming, healthy, and withal it
has, at times, sudden recollections of pain and
death. The characteristic trait of Besnard is a
constant mingling of boldness and self-control,
careful drawing united to extravagance of color,
a luxuriance of luminous life in equilibrium; but
all this is haunted, as it were, by something un-
seen, by his startling vision and his magical intui-
tion. Moreover, beneath the robust art of this
master painter there is revealed a feverish melan-
choly : a fantastic element intervenes, a sort of
magic mirror, and adds to all this beauty the
charm of the unknown. But if, as Bacon says,
'there can be no perfect beauty without unity of
proportion.' Besnard is seriously defective. His
vigorous drawing has the face of a sheet anchor
in the midst of his ungoverned transports. It is
upon color, mirage and the reciprocal power of
his artistic hallucinations that he relies to pro-
duce, over and above the normal design, the
stigmata of the dream and the passions of the
human heart."

The psychological traits of Besnard, as re-

Courtesy of The International Studio.

PASTEL STUDY
(By Albert Besnard)

"His portraits are movement, surprise, Rcstures, glances seized on
the wing, truth assuredly, but passing and evanescent truth, pictures
which are actions."

vealed in his art, are of amazing complexity:
his is a mind responsive to all the fluid in-
fluences of his time. M. Mauclair writes on
this point:

"No artist of our time is so ductile. We find
simultaneously in Besnard a designer of the tradi-
tion of Ingres (whom he holds in respect) ;
an enthusiast of the school of the eighteenth cen-
tury; a Frenchman, clear-sighted and direct,
traditionalist and not academic; the heir of Ru-
bens, Van Dyck and Boucher; a reaHst in love
with ample landscape, life and fresh air, exercise
and beautiful nudity ; a man of the world seduced
by feminine luxury, the refined sensuality of orna-
ment, silk, light and love; a dreamer haunted by
the occult, with whims, nervous starts, grave
thoughts of death; an Anglomaniac, a spiritist, a
worshipper of the soil of France ; a classic, a
dare-devil, a melancholiac, a lyrist, an enthusiast
adoring common sense, — and many other men
besides. Besnard is all these in turn, or at the
same time, with a proteanism that fascinates his
admirers. If once you become interested in him
you will never leave him. But the extraordinary

CURRENT LITERATURE

" IN THE WIND"
One of Besnard's Happiest Studies

thing and the secret of his undeniable genius is
that he is able to unite all these contraries in a
lucid identity, to summon to the work of the mo-
ment the powers that he needs, and to eliminate
the rest. The whole of Besnard is in this faculty
of uniting contraries in the instant: 'to live,' says
Ibsen, 'is to fight against the silent ghosts of our
brain.' Psychologically, Besnard is perhaps but
a melancholy sensualist, troubled by the monsters
which encircle him in swarms. But he has the
power to summon or dismiss them at will, and
thus his whole work is a prodigious illusion of
joy, of health and equilibrium, under which he
beguiles his tragic dreams."

Like Carriere and Rodin, Besnard is a
thinker as well as a great plastic artist. "These
men mix with their colors, their plaster or
clay," remarks M. Mauclair, "substantial
thought — the visible leaven of the material
which constitutes their art." He continues:

"Besnard, a master of technique for whom no
difficulty exists, a born improvisator, fitted for
multiple production rather than for perfection —
which implies patience — is a thinker who has seen
in the paroxysm of a moment the truth revealed
by his contact with the infinite. Hence the nerv-
ous quality of his genius, at once firm-grasping,
avid and decisive. He is the painter of ecstasy
and fairyland. His portraits are movement, life.
surprise, gestures, glances, seized on the wing :
truth assuredly, but passing and evanescent truth.
pictures which are actions. His most beautiful
masterpieces, from the portrait of Rejane to that
of Madame Jourdain, are those of creatures all
aflame with life who fairly leap from a tumult
of luminous moire whose luxurious folds reveal
the hidden contours of their bodies. In his con-
ception of art joy consists in movement. Drapery,
clouds, everji:hing is in motion. Frenzy and light
lure him unceasingly. And his genius for seizing
the instantaneous is such that he portrays his sub-
jects in detail in spite of the rapidity of his nota-
tion. Besnard is an admirable painter of women,
for the reason that he has a feminine soul, a
feminine genius : he feels that woman is a crea-
ture whose whole being is capable of being con-
centrated in a moment, and he knows that mo-

ment. And these beautiful creatures, exultant in
the pride of their semi-nudity, soft, bejewelled,
nursed in luxury and extravagance, these radiant
flowers of humanity, he culls with kindly and
sagacious care, adorns their grace with the pres-
tige of his own splendor, and paints them loving-
ly and luxuriously, as the softest incarnation of
that moment in which his melancholy dream
grasped the sole verity."

The work of Besnard as a decorative paint-
er on large surfaces is very rich and diver-
sified. In 1882 he began the decoration of
the vestibule of the Ecole Superieure de
Pharmacie. In this and in the ceiling and
panels of the Salon des Sciences at the Hotel
de Ville in Paris, his remarkable powers of
lyric expression were furnished with an ade-
quate opportunity. In these grandiose paint-
ings he has symbolized the mysterious and
enchanting forces of electricity, wherein he
has furnished living proof of the thesis that
poetry of the highest order is compatible with
the great conception of modern science.

One of Besnard's most striking symbolic
paintings is "The Renaissance of Life from
Death" in the amphitheater of the Nouvelle
Sorbonne. The artist himself gives the fol-
lowing description of this masterpiece:

"In the centre is the dead body of a woman ly-
ing amid budding plants. A child is being nour-
ished at one of her breasts, while from the other

"THE SMILE"
Besnard is an admirable painter of women, for the
reason that he has a feminine soul, a feminine genius;
"ke feels that woman is a creature whose whole being
is capable of being concentrated in a moment, and he
knows that moment."

LITERATURE AND ART

flows a stream of milk, which, winding through
the valley, forms, as it were, a river of life.
Round her mouth flutter butterflies, the insects
which are the bearers of germs. The serpent, em-
blematic of the mystery of terrestrial generation,
uncoils before the corpse. To the right the hu-
man pair, dominating nature, their future domain,
descend toward the river, which, remounting on
the left, sweeps along its debris of forests and
men and empties its waters into the bowels of
the earth — into a fiery abyss, the veritable cruci-
ble from which shall emanate renewed life. Thus
are symbolized the forces of nature : water, air,
earth and fire, the elements of organic chemistry
which, under the influence of the sun, have
brought into existence the plant, the animal and
man."

This grandiose conception exhibits the
power and range of Besnard's poetic genius.
A modern of modems and a partaker in the
rich stores of science, he is none the less a
poet and a mystic in whose soul life and hu-
manity and the outward frame of things are
reflected as a wondrous miracle in perpetual
transformation.

Besnard, it will be recalled, is one of the
artists whom Nordau attacked so fiercely in
his latest work, "On Art and Artists," nam-
ing him in the group with Rodin, Puvis de
Chavannes and Carriere. Extravagant as is
the criticism of the author of "Degeneration,"
it is nevertheless interesting. Nordau places
Besnard in contrast with his antitype, Puvis
de Chavannes, thus:

Courtesy of 7 he International Studio.

BESNARD'S PORTRAIT OF HIS WIFE
Madame Besnard, formerly Mile. Dubray, is herself
a talented sculptress.

A PAINTER OF LIFE AND LIGHT
Albert Besnard is one of those geniuses of herculean
frame who are able to perform prodigies of labor with-
out apparent fatigue. The list of his works is a formid-
able one, and comprises portraits, historical and sym-
bolical subjects, and fresco work on large surfaces.

"Contemporaneous painting exhibits no more
violent opposition than that between Puvis de
Chavannes and Albert Besnard. The former saw
in the world nothing but phantoms ; the latter
sees nothing but fireworks. The eye of Puvis de
Chavannes cannot tolerate any vivid color; that
of Besnard acts as if it had received a powerful
blow and saw thirty thousand stars. If Besnard
would but satisfy his passion a bit more humane-
ly ! But he insists on firing all his rockets at once
in the faces of the ladies, and so no rational hu-
man being is willing to be his accomplice. He
has on his palette yellow, orange, green, blue,
red — all of the most vivid intensity. And he pre-
sents them in the most startling harmonies. But
why in the world must he plant the yellow on
the cheeks, green on the hair, blue and orange
on the shoulders and arms of his portraits? Why
should he represent his models as bathed in a
flood of the variegated light of a stained glass
window? . . . What do you think of Ro-
din?" Do you admire him? Good, then you must
worship Besnard !"

While this drastic critic seems to condemn
the great qolorist, he unwittingly awards him
the highest praise, as will be noted, by com-
paring him with the artist whom competent
judges do not hesitate to rank with Michael
Angelo.

CURRENT LITERATURE

JOSEPH CONRAD— A UNIQUE WRITER OF THE SEA

O have made the life of the sea
wonderfully articulate, — the work-
aday life of ship and sailor and
port; to have stripped Old Ocean
of literary landlubbers' illusions, and spun
such yarns as only a rare poet and
psychologist could have conceived, is gener-
ally conceded to be the achievement of Joseph
Conrad alone in contemporary English liter-
ature. Reviewing Conrad's work in the No-
vember Atlantic Monthly, Mr. John Albert
Macy says:

"Never has an English sailor written so beauti-
fully, never has artist had such full and authori-
tative knowledge of the sea, except Pierre Loti.
Stevenson and Kipling are but observant lands-
men after all. Marryatt and Clarke Russell never
wrote well, though they tell absorbing tales.
There is promise in Mr. Jack London, but he is
not a seaman at heart. Herman Melville's eccen-
tric genius, greater than any of these, never led
him to construct a work of art, for all his amaz-
ing power of thought and language. Conrad
stands alone with his two gifts of sea experience
and cultivation of style. He has lived on the sea,
loved it, fought it, believed in it, been baffled by
it, body and mind. To know its ways, to be
master of the science of its winds and waves and
the ships that brave it, to have seen men and
events and the lands and waters of the earth with
the eye of a sailor, the heart of a poet, the mind
of a psychologist — artist and ship-captain in one
— here is a combination through which Fate has
conspired to produce a new writer about the most
wonderful of all things, the sea and the mysteri-
ous lands beyond it."

The kindling of this new light in our
literature, as Mr. Macy says, makes very in-
teresting biography, a knowledge of which is
almost essential to the understanding of Con-
rad's highly individual art.

Joseph Conrad was born in Poland about
fifty years ago, and the surname which "he has
considerately dropped is Korzeniowski. Both
father and mother were revolutionary journa-
lists, and his mother was exiled to Sibera. At
a very early age, the son began his wander-
ings; and after many romantic adventures,
including an attempt to fight with the Turks
against Russia and some political smuggling
in the Mediterranean, he took prosaic service
in the English Merchant Marine. For nine-
teen years, he sailed in English ships as ap-
prentice, mate and master, to half the ports of
the earth, with never a thought of writing
except in his log-book or an occasional letter
home, but reading much in the spells of per-
fect idleness which are part of the sailor's life.
The love of literature was in him as strongly

as his love of the sea, only the sea was his
first love.

Not until he was nineteen years old did
Conrad speak English, and he was thirty-
eight before he began to write, after hesi-
tating as to whether he should use the English
language or French (which he had known
since boyhood) as a medium of expression.
French literature attracted him, he was more
or less under the influence of Flaubert and
Maupassant, but he finally chose to express
himself in English. It was during six months
of idleness in London — a time of convales-
cence— that Joseph Conrad wrote his first
book, "Almayer's Folly," a description of life
on the eastern coast of Borneo, published in
1895. Other books followed rapidly, about
one a year : "An Outcast of the Islands," "The
Nigger of the Narcissus," "Tales of Unrest,"
until, with the publication of "Lord Jim" in
1899, the critics became fully aware of the
fact that a powerful new writer had "ar-
rived." Meanwhile, Conrad had married, left
the sea and settled in a quiet English home to
spin his yarns ashore, sailor-fashion. And
such yarns! "Youth," "Heart of Darkness,"
"Falk," — it is safe to say that there has never
been anything like these strangely fascinating
tales in English literature.

Yet Conrad is not popular. The subjective
quality of his work, its indirectness and mel-
ancholy charm, would hardly appeal to a pub-
lic which Mr. Macy seems to think wants its
stories invariably "brief, steady and continu-
ous." But a writer must let himself go, like
Conrad, to produce a "Heart of Darkness" —
that slow-unfolding, sinister narrative — in
which the halting manner is perfect for the
matter.

In no book, however, is Conrad's peculiar
quality felt more strongly than in his latest,
"The Mirror of the Sea" — a series of chapters,
descriptive, reminiscent and frankly auto-
biographical. Here, sailor-fashion, he tells
of the love of his ship; not the modern
thing of steel and fire, but the old white-
winged feminine creature who could "put her
head under the wing" and "ride out a gale
with wave after wave passing under her
breast." The very thrill of his experiences in
gales at sea Conrad communicates to his
readers. "For after all," he tells us in ex-
plaining the character of his foe, "a gale of
wind, the thing of mighty sound, is inarticulate.
It is man who, in a chance phrase, interprets

LITERATURE AND ART

the elemental passion of his enemy." Thus he
describes one gale in his memory, — "a thing
of endless, deep, humming roar, moonlight,
and a broken sentence from a boatswain."
And it was the sentence that stamped its pe-
culiar character on that gale.

It is not a gale of wind, however, but the
mystic beauty of a sunny sea — and a rescue,
the memory of which makes Conrad exclaim,
"The most amazing wonder of the deep is its
unfathomable cruelty." And we quote in part
the wonderful story of that rescue which he
calls "Initiation" — the initiation of youth and
inexperience into the treachery of the sea:

"I felt its dread for the first time in mid-Atlan-
tic one day, many years ago, when we took off
the crew of a Danish brig homeward-bound from
the West Indies. A thin, silvery mist softened
the calm and majestic splendor of light without
shadows — seemed to render the sky less remote
and the ocean less immense. It was one of the
days when the might of the sea appears indeed
lovable, like the nature of a strong man in mo-
ments of quiet intimacy. At sunrise we had made
out a black speck to the westward, apparently
suspended high up in the void behind a stirring,
shimmering veil of silvery blue gauze that seemed
at times to stir and float in the breeze which
fanned us slowly along. The peace of that en-
chanting forenoon was so profound, so un-
troubled, that it seemed that every word pronounc-
ed loudly on our deck would penetrate to the very
heart of that infinite mystery born from the con-
junction of water and sky. We did not raise our
voices."

The "black speck" turned out to be a
water-logged derelict, and as the ship drew
nearer, a "jagged stump sticking up forward"
— all that remained of the masts — could be dis-
cerned. There were people on the wreck,
and the youth, Conrad, was sent in command
of one of the ship's boats to take them off.
The captain was the last to leave his vessel,
and to take his place among the party of
rescuers. As Mr. Conrad tells the story:

"The captain of the brig, who sat in the stern-
sheets by my side with his face in his hands,
raised his head and began to speak with a sort of
sombre volubility. They had lost their masts
and sprung a leak in a hurricane; drifted for
weeks, always at the pumps, met more bad weath-
er; the ships they sighted failed to make them
out, the leak gained upon them slowly, and the
seas had left them nothing to make a raft of. It
was very hard to see ship after ship pass by at a
distance, 'as if everybody had agreed that we
must be left to drown,' he added. But they went
on trying to keep the brig afloat as long as pos-
sible, and working the pumps constantly on in-
sufficient food, mostly raw, till 'yesterday eve-
ning,' he continued, monotonously, 'just as the sun
went down, the men's hearts broke.'

"He made an almost imperceptible pause here,
and went on again with exactly the same intona-
tion:

'They told me the brig could not be saved,
and they thought they had done enough for
themselves. I said nothing to that. It was true.
It was no mutiny. I had nothing to say to them.
They lay about aft all night, as still as so many
dead men. I did not lie down. I kept a lookout.
When the first light came, I saw your ship at
once. I waited for more light; the breeze began
to fail on my face. Then I shouted out as loud as
I was able, "Look at that ship !" but only two
men got up very slowly and came to me. At
first only we three stood alone, for a long time,
watching you coming down to us, and feeling the
breeze drop to a calm almost; but afterwards
others, too, rose, one after another, and by-and-
by I had all my crew behind me. I turned round
and said to them that they could see the ship was
coming our way, but in this small breeze she
might come too late after all, unless we turned
to and tried to keep the brig afloat long enough
to give you time to save us all. I spoke like that
to them, and then I gave the command to man
the pumps.'

"He gave the command, and gave the example,
too, by going himself to the handles, but it seems
that these men did actually hang back for a mo-
ment, looking at one another dubiously before
they followed him. 'He ! he ! he !' He broke out
into a most unexpected, imbecile, pathetic, nerv-
ous little giggle. 'Their hearts were broken so !
They had been played with too long,' he explained
apologetically, lowering his eyes, and became
silent. . . ."

Then — suddenly — they beheld the sinking
of the brig,

"Something startling, mysterious, hastily con-
fused, was taking place. I watched it with incred-
ulous and fascinated awe as one watches the con-
fused, swift movements of some deed of violence
done in the dark. As if at a given signal, the
run of the smooth undulations seemed checked
suddenly around the brig. By a strange optical
delusion the whole sea appeared to rise upon her
in one overwhelming heave of its silky surface,
where in one spot a smother of foam broke out
ferociously. And then the effort subsided. It
was all over, and the smooth swell ran on as be-
fore from the horizon in uninterrupted cadence
of motion, passing under us with a slight, friend-
ly toss of our boat. Far away, where the brig
had been, an angry white stain undulating on the
surface of steely-gray water, shot with gleams of
green, diminished swiftly, without a hiss, like a
patch of pure snow melting in the sun. And the
great stillness after this initiation into the sea's
implacable hate seemed full of dread thoughts and
shadows of disaster. . . . Already I looked
with other eyes upon the sea. I knew it capable
of betraying the generous ardor of youth as im-
placably as, indifferent to evil and good, it would
have betrayed the basest greed or the noblest
heroism. My conception of its magnanimous
greatness was gone. And I looked upon the true
sea — the sea that plays with men till their hearts
are broken, and wears stout ships to death.
Nothing can touch the brooding bitterness of its
heart. Open to all and faithful to none, it exer-
cises its fascination for the undoing of the best.
To love it is not well. . . ."

Joseph Conrad had become a seaman at last.

Music and the Drama

NOTABLE PLAYS OF THE MONTH IN AMERICA

Two important currents may be discerned
in the present dramatic season. On the one
hand, we have remarkable productions of psy-
chological and poetic drama, on the other, a
number of strong plays preaching a social
doctrine. The first group is represented
chiefly by the New York production of
Browning's "Pippa Passes" and Ibsen's
"Hedda Gabler"; Forbes Robertson's pres-
entation of "Caesar and Cleopatra"; the Mar-
lowe-Sothem productions, in Philadelphia, of
Sudermann's "John the Baptist," Hauptmann's
"Sunken Bell," Mackaye's "Joan D'Arc"; and
Mansfield's production of "Peer Gynt," in
Chicago. To these plays may be added
Moody's "Great Divide," which still continues
its sensational run. It has been severely crit-
cized in some quarters, and hailed as "the"
American drama in others. Perhaps the most
suggestive criticism is that contained in Lew
Field's burlesque, "The Great Decide." If, as
Matthew Arnold remarks, art is a criticism of
life, burlesque, in turn, is a criticism of art.
Nowhere have we seen the unwomanly quali-
ties of Ruth's character, her vingraciousness
and inconsistency brought out more amusingly
and with greater clearness.

The prevalence of the modern spirit in
the plays of this group has drawn from Will-
iam Winter, the venerable critic of the New
York Tribune, a characteristic outcry that
strangely contrasts with Henry Arthur Jones's
utterance on our excessive prudery. "The
American stage," observes Mr. Winter, "has
indeed fallen upon evil days when the apotheo-
sis of a drunken ruffian is hailed as the Great
American Play; when Richard Mansfield be-
came the apostle of Ibsen ; when the intel-
lectual John Forbes Robertson elevates the in-
glorious banner of Shaw, and when Julia
Marlowe, almost the only poetic and romantic
actress of the time, devotes her ripe and splen-
did ability to the service of Sudermann,
Maeterlinck, and Mr. Gabriel (Rapagnetta),
of the Annunciation and the charnel house."
One drop of honey in Mr. Winter's cup of bit-
terness may have been Robert Mantell's suc-
cessful Shakespeare performances at the New
York Academy of Music. While the majority
of critics do not find in Mr. Mantell's acting

the qualities of genius, they are unanimous in
pronouncing his efforts painstaking and able.

The second group of plays encompasses
Pinero's "House in Order," Jones's "Hypo-
crites," George Broadhurst's "The Man of
the Hour," Charles Klein's "The Daughters
of Men," and Langdon Mitchell's "The New
York Idea." Each of the plays here recounted
treats avowedly of great social or sociological
problems.

Two new distinctly American plays of both
promise and performance which cannot be
placed in either category, are Belasco's "The
Rose of the Rancho" and "The Three of Us"
by Rachel Crothers.

Perhaps the most important artistic event
of the month, at least in the opinion of the
chroniclers, was the debut of
HEDDA Mme. Alia Nazimova as an

GABLER English-speaking actress in Ib-
sen's "Hedda Gabler." In speak-
ing of her achievement in the role in which our
own greatest actress, Mrs. Fiske, has already
won distinction, the critics do not hesitate to
use superlatives. The New York Herald hails
Madame Nazimova as "an actress of the first
rank"; and Alan Dale, of the New York
American, says: "She did more than Duse
ever did. Her fame will be a household
word." These glowing estimates are echoed
by fellow-players who have flocked to see her
performance. Blanche Bates found her "a rev-
elation of technique and charm," and John
Drew thinks that "her mastery of her art is
supreme."

Madame Nazimova came to this country
with Paul Orleneff and his Russian company
a year and a half ago. The struggles of this
little band of artistic exiles to gain a footing
in America have been duly chronicled in these
pages. Orleneff was compelled to return to
Russia, but Madame Nazimova decided to re-
main on this side of the Atlantic, to learn Eng-
lish, and to win a new reputation on the Eng-
lish-speaking stage. In the opinion of the
New York Times, "she has done something
more than learn to speak the tongue, as the
phrase is ordinarily understood. She speaks
it to-day better than nine-tenths of the recog-

" SHE DID MORE THAN DUSE EVER DID "

This is what Alan Dale savs of Mme. Alia Nazimoya, the Russian actress, whose first appearance on the English
stage in Ibsen's "Hedda Gabfer" is pronounced an artistic event of the farst order.

CURRENT LITERATURE

nized leading actresses in America." The
Times says further:

"In her performances with the Orlenefif Com-
pany Madame Nazimova gave ample evidence of
exceptional ability. But under the previous con-
ditions much had to be taken for granted. In her
English performance the actress reveals powers of
imagination, gifts of expression, and a capacity
for simulation that could hardly have been more
than guessed at before. As she has trained her
voice so she has trained her face and body, to
respond promptly and freely to every changing
mood. After this, for great creative acting, all
that remains is that the actress shall be possessed
of enough intellectuality or imaginative sympathy
to take hold of her author's text, grasp its mean-
ing, and body it forth in expressive and appealing
histrionic symbols. This capacity, finally, Madame
Nazimova possesses. She is, in short, one of the
remarkable actresses of the times."

Not all the critics, how^ever, are so compli-
mentary. The New^ York Evening Post, while
conceding that Madame Nazimova's interpre-
tation of Ibsen's heroine was original, power-
ful and picturesque, maintains th&t it was to-
tally misconceived. "It was a bit of feline
and voluptuous Orientalism, utterly inconceiv-
able as a product of the chill atmosphere of
Christiania." Similarly, John Corbin, writ-
ing in the New York Sun, says:

"The action of the play calls for certain quali-
ties in Hedda which are distinguishable from the
personality and manner of the actress ; and the
lines have a weight of their own, whether beauti-
fully or hideously delivered. It is certain that
Hedda was a woman of the politer world, easy,
light and attractive to men. This Hedda was, as
you choose, an insolent baggage or a creature of
the compelling moods of tragedy; but she was
without lightness, variety or finesse of manner.
There was no vivacity in her conversation, no
flash in her malignity. She was not the graceful
cat that lacerates on impulse, but the writhing (or
insinuating) serpent that hungrily devours. She
insulted poor Miss Tesman's new hat not from
irritation, but from the spirit of eternal malig-
nancy, and instead of playing puss-and-mouse
with Mrs. Elvsted she strangled her in slimy (if
beautiful) coils. It may have been magnificent,
but it was not Ibsen."

An unusual experiment was the production
of Browning's "Pippa Passes" at the Majestic
Theater, New York. Not, it
must be added, a successful ex-
PIPPA PASSES periment. Critics seem to
agree that, notwith.standing the
excellence of the staging and its literary in-
terest, the play bores even an artis-
tic audience. "De gustibus non disputandum
est," observes The Times in its criticism of
the performance, "or, as the old lady remarked
when she kissed the cow, there is no account-
ing for tastes." It goes on to ask :

"So why quarrel with persons who enjoy sitting
for four hours in a darkened theater while the
actors monotonously spin off reams upon reams
of dialogue?

"For persons who like that sort of thing a
Browning matinee — more particularly a matinee
of that singularly undramatic drama 'Pipa Passes'
— will be just the sort of thing they like. And that
is the best that may be said of it, tho one recog-
nizes the expenditure of time, patience, and money
in the exhibition. All waste — what the economists
call an unproductive consumption of wealth.

"Arthur Symons, in his introduction to the
study of Browning, characterizes 'Pippa Passes'
as the poet's greatest work. Viewed as poetry or
literature, it may justify the phrase. But con-
sidered as drama to be acted in a theater it is
certamly the inferior of 'A Blot on the 'Scutch-
eon' and 'Luria.' "

We should not, however, accept as final the
verdict of the New York critics without hear-
ing first the artistic reasons that accentuated
Mrs. Le Moyne and Henry Miller in bringing
out the play. In an interview published in
The Sun Mrs. Le Moyne elucidates this point.
She says:

"For years the beauty of 'Pippa Passes' has
haunted me, for years I have seen in it dramatic
possibilities. I have gone to one manager after
another with the poem in my hands and they have
been very kind and very — decisive. 'It certainly
is a very beautiful thing,' they have said, 'and if
you should ever bring it out, we would like to
talk with you again about it' — that was all.

" 'Pippa Passes,' says some one else, 'is a very
beautiful poem, a wonderful story, but it is for
the easy chair and the fireside, for the solitary
hours when one reads and thinks about what one
reads.'

"That is all twaddle about fireside and easy
chair and the solitary hour. If a thing is beauti-
ful to you it should be more beautiful when to
the reading of the eye are added the cadence of
the voice and the artistic environment of setting.

"If a production like 'Pippa Passes' does noth-
ing else than emphasize the value of the human
voice in dramatic work, it has accomplished its

David Belasco's "The Rose of the Rancho,"
written in joint authorship with Richard
Walton Tully, has been enthu-
THE ROSE OF siastically commented upon by
THE RANCHO papers outside New York. The
New York critics assume a
somewhat less favorable attitude. They ad-
mire the atmospheric coloring, and admit that
the play is good strong melodrama, highly re-
fined and firm in its grip, but regret that it is
not more. It is, however, generally conceded
that "The Rose of the Rancho" is painted on
a broad American canvas. In the past, re-
marks The Sun, Mr. Belasco has dealt for the
most part in raw emotions of melodrama, and

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

he has handled them somewhat crudely in the
manner of the drama of situations, tearing
many a leaf from its master, Sardou. The
arts of scene painting, lighting, costuming,
grouping and acting, it goes on to say, can
cast a glamor upon these things, but only a
glamor. To quote further :

"In 'The Rose of the Rancho' he is dealing with
a real and characteristic epoch of American life
which is familiar to many of us; and in the play,
which was originally written by Richard Walton
Tully, he has a story capable of truthful, moving
and significant development. If the appeal to the
understanding has been as subtle and as potent as
the appeal to the eye and the ear, not only our
stage would have been the gainer but our dra-
matic literature as well.

"California has passed out from the dominion
of old Mexico and is about to be assimilated into
the United States. 'The Rose of the Rancho,'
already half an American, her father having been
a Yankee, is in love with a stalwart young emis-
sary from the Government in Washington. But
her mother, who resents the advent of the Ameri-
cans in general (and not without reason, for her
estate is threatened by conscienceless land grab-
bers) forbids the honest suit of young Kearney.
It is the tale of Romeo and Juliet, even Friar
Laurence, the County Paris, the household ser-
vants and the wedding dance having their modern
representatives. But it is 'Romeo and Juliet' with
a difference, for while the ancient romance has its
local habitation in far away Italy of romance, this
story is of our own people and almost our own
time. In its broader outlines it is the drama of an
epoch and a race."

However opinions may be divided as to the
serious literary importance of the play, Mr.
Belasco's mastery of stage-effects receives un-
divided and liberal recognition. To quote only
one opinion, Mr. Belasco, observes the Boston
Evening Transcript, idealizes the material
things of the stage.

"He bathes his audience in the glamor of color,
light and textures of the dance and of music. He
intoxicates the eye and the fancy behind with opti-
cal illusion; and then, lest they be cloyed, pricks
them with some transcript of characteristic man-
ners and customs or of some minute historical or
local detail. A hundred scenes on our modern
picture stage have swam in semi-tropical sunshine,
yet not one of them has seemed so to glow and
quiver with soft, cloud-flecked light as did that of
the mission garden last night. There have been
many similar gardens on the stage ; but his climb-
ing white roses and his flaming geraniums had
freshness, luster, life. The blue softness of the
semi-tropical night hung over the court of his
Spanish house, and the moon light was silvery
from heaven and not metallic from the_ electric
lamp. The wan dawn mounted and brightened
the sky, and it was as the coming of the day over
the purple boskiness of the California hills and
not of a 'stage effect' in the theater. Whatever
the costume, whether of pictorial Spain, trans-
planted and lingering in California, or of a pro-
saic America crowding it thence, the dress was

of the time, the place and the character that wore
it. Yet the choice, the variety, the blending of the
colors — and a blending often in incessant motion
— was of exceeding sensuous beauty."

A far less ostentatious performance is
Rachel Crothers's "The Three of Us," with

Carlotta Nillson in the title

THE THREE role. Yet it also possesses in a

OF us marked degree those elements

which some day may give us
an American drama. "The play," says John
Corbin in The Sun, "has only native simplicity
and truth to commend it, but already it has
survived more than one ambitious effort, and
it seems likely to flourish as a primrose by the
river's brim when many a hot-house flower
of the drama has faded and been cast into the
waste basket." Mr. Corbin goes on to remind
us that it is now half a century ago since
Philip James Bailey exclaimed:

America ! half brother of the world !

With something good and bad of every land.

In our drama, as in our dinners and our
dress, he says, we still look abroad for the
leading fashions. But "Miss Rachel Crothers's
maiden effort will serve to remind us that
there is another half to our makeup, and one
worthy of more attention than it often gets."

The quality which commends this better
half, in Corbin's opinion, is a sort of demo-
cratic realism. To the English stage, our
strongest foreign influence, we have been in-
debted for the comedy of high society in which
the folk of the common lot serve somewhat
basely as foils. To the French stage we are
owing for the well made or, as we would say,
"manufactured" play. But Rachel Crothers's
play introduces a new element. It tells about
a group of the most commonplace Americans,
Eastern residents in a Nevada mining camp,
with a bourgeois realism which, while not new
to the drama, comes very near being a native
and spontaneous growth with us. In fact,
we are told, it is about the only one our theater
has known. To quote again:

"George Ade has made it the vehicle of his
good humored joke and satire. As an incident in
plays not primarily realistic it is a favorite me-
dium with Clyde Fitch, who uses it sometimes
for the purposes of idyllic sentiment, as in the
opening act of 'Barbara Frietchie,' and sometimes
for those of modern satire, as in 'The Climbers.'
Its crude origin lies in rural drama of the 'Old
Homestead' type, and its highest if most uneven
development was in the plays of the late James A.
Heme, where scenes of delicious humor and deep
spiritual quality rubbed elbows with crude melo-

CURRENT LITERATURE

it large and whole. Time and again they have
done so. There is still room for hope.

"'The Three of Us' falls distinctly short of
George Ade's humor, of Fitch's sentiment and
satire, of Heme's grasp of character and his oc-
casional moments of elevation. But it is the most
even and consistent play we have yet produced in
its kind, and it promises well for its author's
future."

Photograph by Brown Bros.

AN AMERICAN PRIMA DONNA
Geraldine Farrar, whose singing enchanted the
heart of Germany, including that of a member of the
Imperial House. She is now winning new laurels at
the Metropolitan Opera House, New York.

drama. In intellectuality or in sustained power of
any sort, even technical, it has been conspicu-
ously lacking. It has been a primrose by the
river's brim, and it has been nothing more. Plays
of this sort raise the hope that those who see the
»in^« truth of ottr life so cle'a'rly may also see

Charles Klein's new play, "The Daughters
of Men" (Aster Theater, New York), treats

of the question of capital and
THE DAUGH- labor. The critics have given
TERS OF MEN the most varying verdicts on

this drama. Says Frederick
Edward McKay:

"With a commonplace plot, bombastic dialogue
and the players acting throughout with much
more intensity and 'suppressed excitement' than
the circumstances warrant, 'The Daughters of
Men' falls far short of Klein's recent outputs."

The Sun, on the other hand, remarks : "The
play will likely be as great a popular success
as Mr. Klein's "The Lion and the Mouse."
The Globe, whose dramatic department is
characterized by a singular sr.neness an.l just-
ness of appreciation, speaks of tiie ^ilay as
"the most peculiar dramatic work m New
York. Judged on the lines of tho drama —
and they are rather rigid lines — the piece is
bad." It suggests, however that, no matter
how short it may fall of certain dramitic re-
quirements, it may be an excellent i.'ay to
read. Readers of Current Literatui<e are
in the position to form their own opinion on
the subject, as we have secured the right to
reprint in the present issue the strongest scenes
from the play.

In view of the semi-Socialistic tendency
of Mr. Klein's recent plays, it is interesting
to note the opinion of a Socialist. Julius
Hopp, manager of "The Socialist Stage So-
ciety," commenting on this point, says (in The
Morning Telegraph) :

" 'The Daughters of Men' must be greeted
as a step forward in the right direction, namely,
to utilize the stage for the discussion of the prob-
lem of labor and capital, which the dramatists
of this country have persistently avoided and still
do avoid. . . .

"The theater is a place of amusement — we do
not deny it — of pastime and mental rest, but it is
also to be a home of the serious and earnest en-
deavor to think. One need, therefore, not be a
crank if one demands most energetically that the
theater cease to be a mere puppet show, or that
the theater serve to us comedies, farces, romantic
dramas of bygone ages, or repeat continuously
Shakespeare, Shakespeare and Shakespeare, as if
there was nothing in our own epoch that offers
ample material to the present-day dramatist."

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

THE WAR OF THE OPERAS

]0 LESS than four grand opera com-
panies are competing for the ap-
proval of the American public this
winter. The Metropolitan Opera
Company continues its triumphal career under
Mr. Conried's management. Oscar Hammer-
stein's opera-house, just erected in New York,
opened brilliantly during the first week in De-
cember. The Henry W. Savage Company is
entertaining large audiences in many cities
with a vivid and efifective presentation, in Eng-
lish of Puccini's "Madam Butterfly." And,
finally, the San Carlo Opera Company, directed
by Henry Russell and including among its
prima donnas such distinguished singers as
Lillian Nordica and Alice Nielsen, is helping
to maintain and perpetuate in New Orleans
operatic traditions that date back eighty-three
years.

The center of interest in connection with
this unprecedented season lies in New York,
where a fierce battle is being waged between
Mr. Conried's forces and those marshaled
under the leadership of the singularly pictur-
esque and original Oscar Hammerstein. Mr.
Hammerstein has already built some ten thea-
ters and music-halls in New York, and has
made and lost several fortunes. From an ar-
ticle by Charles Henry Meltzer in Pearson's
Magazine (December) we learn that the new
impresario came to this country in the sixties
with two dollars in his pocket.

"Soon after he landed here, fate drifted him
away from music and into the tobacco business.
But to Oscar Hammerstein tobacco was only a
stimulus of imagination. He was a born inventor
and he grew rich through his inventions. From
the position of a poor workman, he rose to be an
employer and the editor of the tobacco trade
organ. He lived in Harlem. There his round,
ruddy face, with its adornment of black beard,
mustache and whiskers, his thick-set form, his
smile, and his eccentric hats, grew to be as famil-
iar as the goats which a quarter of a century ago
abounded in the neighborhood.

"Tobacco at last palled on Mr. Hammerstein.
He had amassed wealth and could indulge his
hobbies. Besides music, they included theater-
building and managing theaters.

"But not until the grand opera bee got into
his bonnet had Mr. Hammerstein taken himself
quite seriously in the field of art. Like the de-
termined manager against whom he has so daring-
ly pitted himself, he is a good fighter who in the
past has 'played the game' and enjoyed its risks.
He has undertaken a tremendous and, as most
would say, an impossible task. To accomplish it,
if it can be accomplished, he has plunged reck-
lessly into expense, scoured Europe in quest of
singers, and announced the production of Gluck's

'Armide,' Berlioz's 'La Damnation de Faust,' and
many other operas."

The list of Mr. Hammerstein's singers at
his newly christened "Manhattan Opera-
House" is headed by Nellie Melba, who has
transferred her allegiance from Mr. Conried,
and Alessandro Bonci, the eminent Italian

MR. HAMMERSTEIN'S STAR TENOR
Alessandro Bonci comes to this country to dispute
a supremacy hitherto accorded to Caruso. He is re-
garded bjr many a* ib» greatest tenor in the world.

CURRENT LITERATURE

"MADAM BUTTERFLY"
Elza Szamosy. the Hungarian singer, is regarded by
Puccini as ideally qualified to interpret the heroine ot
his new opera.

tenor, who is being heard in this country for
the first time. The coming of the latter, ac-

cording to a writer in The Musical Courier,
"marks a new era in the annals of grand opera
in the New World." Bonci has made his repu-
tation chiefly in the older Italian operas, such
as "I Puritani" and "L'Elisir d'Amore," but he
is also singing in the modern roles in which
Caruso has won his laurels, and in so doing
challenges comparison with his more famous
rival. The difference between the two is in-
dicated by Elise Lathrop in The Theatre Mag-
azine:

"Alessandro Bonci has nothing in common in
appearance with the Neapolitan Caruso. Born in
Cesina, in the province of Romagna, he has the
blonde coloring, gray eyes, sandy hair and mus-
tache which so often surprizes the American, in-
clined to believe that all Italians must have black
hair and eyes. . . . There would seem to be
this difference between the two singers who are
likely to be most frequently compared this win-
ter. Caruso's voice is said to be more robust, for
which reason he sings many of the modern Italian
operas. Bonci, on the other hand, is said to em-
body, even more than Caruso, the true old Italian
art of bel canto. He sings, according to one mu-
sical authority, with the most exquisite taste and
style. Naturally, with these characteristics, he has
more scope to display his talents in the old school
operas."

Mr. Hammerstein's plans, ambitious as they
are, are quite eclipsed by Heinrich Conried's
operatic program. To the regular repertoire
at the Metropolitan Opera-House have been
added a dozen novelties and revivals. Richard
Strauss's "Salome," which has caused a
furore in Europe and is pronounced the great-
est music-drama since Wagner, is to be given,
with Olive Fremstad in the title role. Giacomo
Puccini, the Italian composer, is coming to
America in person to superintend new pro-
ductions of his "Madam Butterfly" and
"Manon Lescaut." Giordano's "Fedora" and
"Andrea Chenier," Cilea's "Adriana Lecou-
vreur," Delibes's "Lakme," Meyerbeer's "L'Af-
ricaine" and Wagner's "Fliegende Hollan-
der" are all on Mr. Conried's list.

No less notable is his array of singers
"Never before," remarks the New York Eve-
ning Post, "has Mr. Conried, or any other man-
ager for that matter, assembled so many great
artists for one operatic season." In addition to
the old and tried favorites, such as Sembrich,
Schumann-Heink, Ternina, Caruso and Burg-
staller, must be mentioned the French tenor,
Charles Rousseliere; Bertha Morena, a young
dramatic soprano from the Royal Opera in
Munich; Lina Cavalieri, an Italian singer
whose extraordinary beauty began to attract
attention while she was still a girl, and the
story of whose conquests, acording to one
writer, "reads like the tale of a Maurice Hew-

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

lett heroine"; and, last but not least,
Geraldine Farrar, ^n American girl who
comes to us from Berlin covered with
honors. An article by Jackson Cross in
The Metropolitan Magazine (Decem-
ber) is devoted to Miss Farrar's career.
The writer says:

"Miss Farrar made her debut at the Ber-
lin Opera-House in 1901, when she was
nineteen years old, as Violetta in 'Traviata.'
Her success was assured, and frequently
thereafter she was given the opportunity
to sing in other parts, but she was most
appreciated, perhaps, as Marguerite in
'Faust' Her repertoire steadily grew and
among her favorite and most popular in-
terpretations are Juliette in 'Romeo and
Juliette.' Nedda in 'Pagliacci,' Manon in
'Manon Lescaut,' Elizabeth in 'Tannhauser'
and Madam Butterfly in Puccini's opera
of that name. ... To all her roles
Miss Farrar brings a wonderful touch of
personality, and more than this she brings
to her work unusual beauty. These must
be added to her great natural vocal gifts
and to the training of her teachers Gra-
ziani and Lilli Lehmann.

"During her career in Berlin the German
Emperor, who is something of a music
lover and a musician, we are gfiven to un-
derstand, took the trouble to hear her in all
of her most important roles."

A review of the rival attractions at
the Metropolitan and new Manhattan
Opera-Houses leads inevitably to the
question, "Will New York be able to
support two operas?" and some time
will have to pass before the question can
be answered satisfactorily. Mr. H. T
Finck, of the New York Evening Post,
ventures the reply: "Why not? Berlin, a
much smaller city, has grand opera at three

THE "GRAND OLD MAN" OF FRENCH MUSIC
Camille Saini-aaens, who is now visiting this country, has
been before the public for sixty years, and has written an
astonishing number of operas, oratorios, symphonies. He is
proclaimed by ^ The Musical Courier "one of the music men-
archs of all time." /

houses and genuine operetta (not musical
farce d la Broadway) at a fourth."

THE MOST VERSATILE MUSICIAN OF OUR TIME

h^:::^^

fAMILLE SAINT-SAENS, the illus-
trious French composer who is now
visiting this country, has been com-
pared to the hero of the "Arabian
Nights" — Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid. Like that
legendary personage, he has known a multi-
colored life, has traveled far in strange lands,
and has seen the world from many fresh and
unconventional points of vantage. In a deeper
sense, it may also be said that, like the Caliph,
he is one who absorbs and reflects the brilliant
texture of a life and art outside of himself,
rather than one who draws upon inherent crea-
tive genius.

To say this is not to depreciate a man who
is conceded to be the most versatile musician
of our day, and who, in the opinion of The
Musical Courier (New York), is "one of the
musical monarchs of all time." With the ex-
ception of Tschaikowsky and Dvorak, and pos-
sibly of Richard Strauss, he is the most gifted
composer who has ever visited our shores.
He has been before the public for sixty years,
and during this time has written an astonish-
ing number of operas, oratorios, symphonies,
concertos and compositions for various instru-
ments. Forty years ago Berlioz referred to
him as "one of the greatest musicians of our

CURRENT LITERATURE

epoch," and Gounod once said of him : "Saint-
Saens could write at will a work in the style
of Rossini, of Verdi, of Schumann, or of
Wagner." A critic of our own day, Mr.
Arthur Hervey, in his "Masters of French
Music," has given the following reasons for
regarding Saint-Saens as "absolutely unique":

"There probably does not exist a living com-
poser who is gifted with a musical organization so
complete as that of Camille Saint-Saens. . . .
Never at a loss for an idea, invariably correct,
and often imaginative, going from a piano concerto
to an opera, and from a cantata to a symphonic
■poem, with disconcerting ease, composing rapidly,
yet never exhibiting any trace of slovenly work-
manship, finding time in the meanwhile to dis-
tinguish himself as organist and pianist, and to
wield the pen of the critic, the astonishing capabil-
ities of this wonderfully gifted musician may be
put down as absolutely unique."

And yet, in spite of his marvelous versatility,
it seems doubtful whether Saint-Saens's name
will live among the greatest names in music.
No one of all his multitudinous compositions
has excited enduring enthusiasm or found uni-
versal acceptance. Of his most popular work,
the oratorio "Samson and Delilah," a well-
equipped English critic, Mr. Vernon Black-
burn, has said: "There is a great deal of beau-
ty in the score, but it is the sort of beauty that
does not seem to live in the mind" ; and Saint-
Saens's best orchestral compositions, such as
"Phaeton" and "Omphale's Spinning-Wheel,"
are distinguished more by exquisite technique
than by originality of idea. Saint-Saens, in-
deed, frankly sets "harmony" and orchestra-
tion above melody, and in one of his books has
written : "What the illiterate in music call, not
without contempt, 'accompaniments,' or, iron-
ically, 'science,' is the flesh and blood of
music." His own biblical poem, "The Deluge"
— a highly colored picture with scarcely a
melodic idea — admirably illustrates his theory.
And it may be that in the tendency herein ex-
emplified lies the explanation of why Saint-
Saens has fallen short of the very highest.
Mr. Blackburn says (in The New Music Re-
view) :

"Whatever Saint-Saens does, he does well ; but
some evil fairy at his birth must have (in the
old idyllic way of speaking) touched him with a
wand by which she meant to convey that though
he could do everything well, he could do nothing
extremely well. He plays the piano beautifully,
and yet there are expert pianoforte players who
play better than he does ; he composes charmingly,
yet there are many composers who cannot even
play the pianoforte, and who are greater com-
posers than he ; he has written operas — notably
that entitled 'Henry VHI' — wTiich contain won-
derful reminiscences of the past, yet they are not
really original ;.^he score lies before me at the

present moment, and I find that his sentiment of
mediaeval music, that his idea of seventeenth-cen-
tury dances, that his feeling for Gluck, for Mozart,
for everybody except himself is most remarkable.
It is not as though Saint-Saens went out of his
way to understand and to assimilate into his own
personality the work of other men; but he re-
minds one of some great space into which all the
influences of the musical world might be poured,
and out of which a quick and vital brain can pro-
duce work which is not only interesting and
pretty, but also which is admired of the world of
men."

In this view Mr. Lawrence Oilman, the
musical critic of Harper's Weekly', concurs.
"One wonders," he says, "if, in the entire his-
tory of the art of music, there is the record of
a composer more completely accomplished in
his art, so exquisite a master of the difficult
trick of spinning a musical web, so superb a
mechanician, who had less to say to the world :
whose discourse was so meager and so neg-
ligible." He continues:

"At its best, it is a hard and dry light that
shines out of his music ; a radiance without magic
and without warmth. His work is an impressive
monument to the futility of art without impulse;
to the immeasurable distance that separates the
most exquisite talent from the merest genius. For
all its brilliancy of investiture, his thought, as the
most scrupulous of his appreciators has seen, 'can
never wander through eternity.' "

The note of depreciation in the critical at-
titude toward Saint-Saens is a distinguishing
characteristic of the yoimger musical writers.
Mr. Philip Hale, the veteran critic of the Bos-
ton Herald, chooses to emphasize the strong,
rather than the weak, points in Saint-Saens's
achievement. He says:

"A name always to be mentioned with affection-
ate respect! In the face of practical difficulties,
discouragements, misunderstandings, sneers, he
has worked constantly to the best of his unusual
ability for musical righteousness in its pure form.

"During years when Frenchmen were contribut-
ing little concert music of significance or worth,
when purely orchestral music and chamber music
had few admirers in the concert hall, Saint-Saens
was tireless in raising the standard of French
music, and in leading audiences to the understand-
ing and the enjoyment of the higher forms of
musical expression. Nor was he ashamed to en-
deavor to introduce German thoughtfulness in
music for the advantage and the glory of the
country which he dearly loves.

"The young are irreverent, even when they
are musicians. It is the fashion for a few of the
young French writers to mention Saint-Saens
flippantly or as with a pat on the back, and the
remark : 'Good old man ! Now go to bed !'

"They forget that the success of d'Indy, Faure,
Debussy was made possible by the labor and the
talent of Saint-Saens. They do not stop to think
that the symphony in C minor, the piano con-
certo in G minor, 'Omphale's Spinning Wheel' will
long endure as glories of French art."

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

SHAW'S IMITATION OF SHAW

N UN-SHAVIAN Shaw-play— this
seems to be the verdict of several
London critics with regard to the
Irish playwright's latest alleged
tragedy — "The Doctor's Dilemma." Mr.
Shaw, remarks the London Academy, allowed
himself in his last two acts and in his epilogue
"to fall into the old playmaker's jog-trot, and
pretended he was going his own gait by cut-
ting every now and then a higher caper than
usual and crying: 'It's Shaw after all!' It
is not Shaw: it is a poor imitation." The
Academy critic attempts to prove his theory
by a summary of the plot.

The gist of "The Doctor's Dilemma," he
says, is no more Shavian than is the gist of
"The Two Roses" or "Sweet Lavender." It
is an ordinary old-fashioned, sentimental busi-
ness dating from the youth of Sir Patrick
Cullen, one of the characters of the play.
In fact, it is no more than one of the old
ideas which the dear old doctor found crop-
ping up at regular intervals under new names.
He continues:

"If new Nietzscheism is only old Calvinism
writ large, and inoculation an old, old tale. Sir
Patrick would certainly have been able to 'place'
the new 'tragedy.' Sir Colenso Ridgeon (M.D.,
etc. etc.) can choose which of two consumptive
patients he will cure : a virtuous, middle-aged,
inefficient doctor, or a thoro young scoundrel of
an artist, with whose legal wife (he had others)
Sir Colenso happens to have fallen in love. To
save her from discovering her husband's true
nature (for that is his chief motive) he decides
to let the artist die. And the artist dies. But
his wife has seen through Sir Colenso's little
scheme ; and when the artist is dead, she will not
accept 'the hand that killed her Louis.'

"Those words are not a quotation from 'The
Doctor's Dilemma' ; they come from the play as
it would have been written by the dramatist of
Sir Patrick's youth. We can all see that play in
imagination: the temptation of Sir Colenso, his
'better nature' succumbing; the death of Louis
Dubedat; all leading up to the 'great scene' in
Act IV. when the secret will come out and Mrs.
Dubedat will refuse with loathing the hand that
killed her Louis. Of course, that is not how Mr.
Shaw writes it. Sir Colenso's motives are mixed.
The great scene is kept for a little epilogue, and
is not great at all. Mrs. Dubedat refuses Sir
Colenso not because he is a murderer, but because
he is middle-aged, and because she happens to
have taken a second husband already. But the at-
mosphere created by the plot is quite as old-fash-,
ioned, and to see it treated by Mr. Shaw is to
see not Ayesha rejuvenated by the flames, but an
old woman in a young hat."

A truly "Shavian" caper is the accomplish-

ment of the "murder" of the poor artist, Louis
Dubedat, by handing him over to the care of
a fashionable physician. Another trait which
savors strongly of the old Shaw is the fact
that Dubedat proclaims himself a disciple of
Bernard Shaw. On his death-bed he states
as his artistic creed, "I believe in Michael
Angelo and Rembrandt and Velasquez and
the Message of Art." Dubedat also exhorts
his wife not to wear horrible crepe or ruin
her beauty with tears. He hates widows and
exacts from her the promise to marry again, a
pledge which she instantly hastens to redeem.
Mr. Walkham, of the London Times, points
out Shaw's discursiveness, which has grown
more and more pronounced with every play.
In other words, Shaw imitates and exagger-
ates his own mannerisms with results which,
strangely enough, resemble the methods of
"John Bull's Other Playwright"— Shake-
speare, while in his present play his theme is
borrowed from Moliere. One of Shaw's char-
acters asks: "I've lost the thread of my re-
marks. What was I talking about?" This,
Mr. Walkham avers, very nearly applies to
Shaw's own case :

"True, he does not helplessly lose the thread of
his play. But he is continually dropping it, in or-
der that he may start a fresh topic. This foible of
discursiveness has been steadily gaining on him.
'John Bull' was more discursive than 'Man and
Superman.' 'Major Barbara' was more discursive
than 'John Bull.' 'The Doctor's Dilemma' is more
discursive than 'Major Barbara.' Needless to
point out that this discursiveness is not a new
method, but a 'throwing back' to a very old meth-
od. It was, for instance, the method of Shake-
speare. A certain unity of idea does, however,
underlie Mr. Shaw's new play, and that is to be
found in its satire of the medical profession.
Therein he has been anticipated by Brieux in his
own time, in France. But of course the theme
belongs, as of right, to Moliere. Is there not
something piquant in the spectacle of Mr. Shaw
applying Shakespearean treatment to a Molierean
theme? After all, there is no such thorogoing
classicist as your professed iconoclast.

"Superficially, no doubt, we seem to have trav-
eled a long way from the buffooneries of M. Pur-
gon and M. Diafoirus. Only superficially, how-
ever. For the old mock-Latin, for the clysters,
for the instruments which modern delicacy does
not permit to be named, we now have barbarous
Greek — opsonin and phagocytosis — surgical saws
and 'nuciform sacs.' The more it changes, the
more it is the same thing. . . . There is Sir
Ralph Bloomfield Bonnington — familiarly known
as 'old B. B.' — court physician (much liked by
what he invariably calls 'the Family') and platitu-
dinously pompous bungler. He is, as you see,
an entirely Molieresque figure."

CURRENT LITERATURE

D'ANNUNZIO'S UNSUCCESSFUL NEW PLAY, "PIU

CHE L'AMORE"

^AILURE, or lack of success, is not
entirely unknown to Gabriele d'An-
nunzio, the Italian dramatist, as dis-
tinguished from the poet and novel-
ist. But to have a new and "realistic" modern
drama of his "hissed" vigorously by a Roman
audience at its first performance was a new
experience to him. The cable recently
reported the emphatic condemnation of the
latest D'Annunzio attempt at playwriting by
a hostile public, but gave no details of the in-
teresting affair. Will the drama survive this
adverse verdict and succeed elsewhere, or is
its failure total and final?

"Piti che L'Amore" (More than Love) is a
new experiment for the Italian dramatist. It
is not in his previous fantastic, symbolic and
romantic style; it is meant to be intensely
modern, reflecting every-day life, with its pas-
sions, struggles, crimes and ambitions. It
bears traces of Nietzsche influence. The Rome
correspondent of the London Times says that
it is not only undramatic in its arrangement,
but untrue to life and human character and
thought — founded on "misunderstood philoso-
phy."

Corrado Brando, the hero of the play, is a
sort of "overman" who hates the dull and con-
ventional life of our civilization. He is an ex-
plorer and boasts of his exploits and adven-
tures in darkest Africa. He deems himself
above the restraints of law and morality. He
believes himself destined for great achieve-
ments and is angry with a mean, unapprecia-
tive world that neglects him and refuses to
support his grand schemes of exploration.

He has just returned to Rome from an Afri-
can expedition of which, however, another was
the leader. He bitterly complains that honors
he has won are bestowed upon the chief. He
wishes to organize another expedition and can-
not obtain the funds therefor.

Means, however, must be found. He scorns
the advice of a devoted friend and admirer,
Virginio Vesta, to seek fame in other and less
hazardous paths; he will, he says, shrink from
no method of realizing his ambition, however
desperate and criminal it may be.

The truth is, Brando had committed murder
to obtain the money he needs, but concealed it
from his friend. He had killed an old Jew, a

keeper of a gambling-den. Vesta finds this out
after the conversation. He also learns that
Brando had seduced his sister Maria, a beauti-
ful and tender girl. Brando's thirst for glory
and fame is dearer than love, and he will not
hesitate to sacrifice Maria to his ambition.
Maria herself urges him to go to Africa, tho
she is about to become a mother.

Meantime the murder is discovered, and
Brando is in danger of arrest and punishment.
Vesta tries to save his friend, in spite of the
betrayal of Maria, to whom he is devotedly at-
tached. He even offers to declare himself the
real murderer. Brando refuses, and hastily
forces Vesta out of his apartment.

The officers of justice are at the door.
Brando arms himself and vows that he shall
not die alone. The play ends without our
knowing what happens to Brando and the
officers.

The theme of the drama, according to the
Milan Illustrazione , and the significance of the
title itself, is that to the masterful man, the
builder of empires, the pioneer in the wilder-
ness, there is something that is greater than
love and morality. But the correspondent of
the London Times, quoted above, is not im-
pressed with the playwright's success in dra-
matically enforcing this moral'. He says:

"The idea of the murder of a miser, for a pur-
pose which is not pure greed for money, is not
very original. At once one recalls Eugene Aram
and Raskolnikoff in Dostoievski's 'Crime and Pun-
ishment.' But d'Annunzio is far from possessing
either the terrible knowledge or the literary skill
which made the work of the Russian novelist
one of the poignant documents of suffering hu-
manity. The whole atmosphere of 'Fill che I'Amore'
is unreal. Brando, compounded of rant and blus-
ter, would be no more capable of leading an Afri-
can expedition than the author himself. And, in-
deed, seeing how many Italian names figure in
the honorable list of African explorers, one is
disposed to protest against d'Annunzio's choice
of such a role for his sorry hero. The 'super-man'
of Nietzsche, who should break through all social
laws and conventions and ruthlessly trample on
the weak that obstruct his way to self-realization,
must at least convince us of his own strength of
will and purpose. But Corrado Brando is essen-
tially a poor creature, without even sufficient force
of character to resist the temptation of seducing
his best friend's sister, while he depends on the
sympathy of that friend and pours out to him,
in most wearisome monologue, the tale of his
wrongs and his dreams."

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

BERNARD SHAW AS DRAMATIC CRITIC

"Shaw, as a dramatic critic, was the terror of actors
and playwrights."

Bernard Shaw as a
every lip. It is,

HE name of
dramatist is on

however, not so well known that for
over three years the author of
"Caesar and Cleopatra" wielded the pen of the
dramatic critic. In his time, Mr. Forbes Rob-
ertson assures a recent interviewer, Shaw was
the terror of actors and playwrights. His
criticisms, which appeared in the London Sat-
urday Review between January, 1895, and
May, 1898, have now been published in two
closely printed volumes,* prefaced by James
Huneker. Mr. Huneker vividly describes the
great Irish playwright's sufferings in those
three years when, night after night, he filled
his ears with bad, mad and mediocre plays.
The mere physical exertion of this task finally
grew too heavy for either man or superman
to bear. Shaw's famous hobnailed Alpine
shoes, worn for the purpose of tramping Lon-
don picture galleries, failed him in the theater.
His soul grew soggy, his bones softened, and
after an accident he threw over his self-im-
posed task with a gasp of relief, and the stalls
knew him no more. Meanwhile, however, he
had filled almost one thousand pages with per-
haps the most remarkable and certainly the
most startling dramatic criticisms that have
appeared in the English language during the
closing years of the nineteenth century. These
criticisms, Mr. Hvmeker remarks, are still
alive :

"They are as alive to-day as a decade ago, a
sure test of their value; theatrical chronicling is
seldom of an enduring character. It is the man
ambushed behind the paragraph, the Shaw in the
wood-pile, with his stark individuality, that
makes these criticisms delightful and irritating
and suggestive. I pretend to hear tiie clattering

•Dramatic Opinions: Essays by Bernard Shaw. With a
Preface by James Huneker. Brentano's.

of those hobnailed Alpine shoes in his criticisms
as they unroll before us, some violent, many
ironic, all interesting and erudite."

Shaw's criticisms, Mr. Huneker goes on to
say, are male, forceful and modem. They
may or they may not present a definite thesis.
Mr. Shaw may not be your Shaw, or Shaw's
Shaw, yet he is a perfectly viable person, a
man of wrath and humors, a fellow of infinite
wit, learned without pedantry, and of a charm
— if one finds caviar and paprika charming.
Perhaps that autobiography of his — to be pub-
lished, he says, fifty years after his death — will
clear up all our cloudy conceptions of this
Boojum, who may turn out after all to be a
Snark. Like the late poet, Paul Verlaine,
there are days when Shaw wears his demon
mask to frighten bores away. In reality he is
excessively angelic. All the rest is grimace.

The world, Mr. Huneker avers, is by this
time acquainted with the Shavian opinions,
plays, prefaces and philosophy. Shaw himself
ascribes his success to the abnormal normality
of his sight. Normal eyesight, he contends,
is possessed by only about ten per cent, of
humanity. By a swift transposition of vision
to intellectual judgment Mr. Shaw claims the
gift of seeing things differently and better.
This may or may not be so, but Shaw evident-
ly is sincere. Mr. Huneker says:

"He is that rare bird, a perfectly honest man.
He means what he says and he is never more in
earnest than when he is most whimsical. He
laughs at love and London shrieks at his most
exquisite humor. But he is not making fvin. He
finds in our art and literature that the sexual
passion plays far too important a role. We are
'oversexed,' he cries, especially in the theater.
The slimy sentimentalities of the popular play
are too much for his nerves. He is a Puritan in
the last analysis and the degradation of dramatic
art attendant upon sensuality moves him to
strong utterances. T have, I think, always been a
Puritan in my attitude toward art. ^ I am as
fond of fine music and handsome buildings as
Milton was, or Cromwell, or Bunyan; but if I
found that they were becoming the instruments
of systematic idolatry of sensuousness, I would
hold it good statesmanship to blow every cathe-
dral in the world to pieces with dynamite, organ
and all, without the least heed to the screams of
the art critics and the cultured voluptuaries.' He
would light the fuse himself, just as he would go
to the stake for a principle. He is at once the
slayer and the slain; Calvin and Servetus."

These words have a truly Tolstoyan ring.
Shaw does not claim for them originality, nor
does he claim priority in his attacks on Shake-

CURRENT LITERATURE

speare. "In fact," says Mr, Huneker, "his
animadversions upon this sacred topic are by
no means as sharp as the criticisms of Ben
Jonson, Dr. Johnson, Voltaire and Taine."
Touching on Shaw's view of Shakespeare, the
brilliant commentator remarks that an ounce
of sincerity is worth a ton of hypocrisy, and
that great reputations should have their cen-
tennial critical bath — they would look all the
brighter for it. The critical bath Mr. Shaw
prepares for Shakespeare is pretty thoro:

"He finds Shakespeare's work full of moral
platitudes, jingo claptrap, tavern pleasantries,
bombast and drivel ; while the bard's incapacity
for following up the scraps of philosophy he
stole so aptly, is noteworthy; his poetic speech,
feeling for nature and the knack of character-
drawing, fun and heart wisdom, for which he
was ready, like the true son of the theater, to
prostitute to any subject, occasion and any the-
atrical employment — these are some Shakespear-
ean attributes. He thinks Bunyan the truer
man — which is quite aside from the argument —
and he believes that we are outgrowing Shake-
speare, who will become, with Byron, a 'house-
hold pet.' And most incontinently he concludes
asserting that when he, Shaw, began to write
dramatic criticism, Shakespeare was a divinity;
now he has become a fellow creature."

Nevertheless, Mr. Huneker explains, Shaw's
attacks are not aimed primarily at Shake-
speare, but rather at the modern misinterpre-
ters of the great Elizabethan, who substitute
scenic claptrap for the real Shakespeare.

Shakespeare's contemporaries fare even
worse at Shaw's hands. Mr. Huneker ob-
serves on this point :

"More inexplicable is Shaw's dislike of the
Elizabethans. His lips curl with scorn when
their names are mentioned. He forgives Shake-
speare many extravagances ; Marlowe, Ford,
Massinger, Beaumont and Fletcher, Middleton,
Dekker, none. Their rhetoric is insane and
hideous; they are a crew of insufferable bunglers
and dullards ; the Renaissance was an orgy ;
Marlowe might, if he had lived to-day, have been
a tolerable imitation of Kipling ; all these plays are
full of murder, lust, obscenity, cruelty; no ray
of noble feeling, no touch of faith, beauty, nor
even common kindliness is to be discovered in
them, says critic Shaw."

Of latter-day writers Shaw has written
learnedly and often most piquantly. His Ibsen
partizanship, remarks Mr. Huneker, needs no
vindication at this hour. The star of the great
Norwegian has risen, no longer a baneful por-
tent, but a beneficial orb. But for the modern
English playwrights he always exhibited a firm
dislike until they achieved something that ex-
torted his praise. We read :

"He was among the first to attack Pinero's
'The Second Mrs. Tanqueray' as an artificial bit

of stage technique. He speedily exposed the in-
herent structural weakness and lack of logic in
'The Notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith' ; but he found
sufficient words of admiration for 'The Benefit of
the Doubt,' by all odds the best, because the
truest, of the Pinero dramas.

"Henry Arthur Jones is rated as highly by Mr.
Shaw. This writer has 'creative imagination,
curious observation, inventive humor, sympathy
and sincerity.' He admired 'Michael and his Lost
Angel,' as did a few discerning critics in New
York — and he has never ceased wondering why
this fine play was withdrawn in London before it
had a fair chance."

Scattered through all of Shaw's critical ar-
ticles are sometimes true, often ill-natured, and
always witty remarks on authors and actors.
Mr. Huneker quotes a few of the most char-
acteristic :

" 'The actor will get money and applause from
the contemporary mob ; but posterity will only see
him through the spectacles of the elect ; if he dis-
pleases them [i. e., the dramatic critics] his credit
will be interred with his bones.' Which is a
curious paraphrase of Hamlet's remarks about
the players. 'Marie Corelli's works are cheap
victories of a profuse imagination over an ap-
parently commonplace and carelessly cultivated
mind.' 'Thackeray is an author I cannot abide.'
'For my part I do not endorse all Ibsen's views; I
even prefer my own to his in some respects.'
'Pinero is no respecter of character, but simply an
adroit describer of people as the ordinary man
sees and judges them.'

" 'A character actor is one who cannot act and
therefore makes an elaborate study of disguises
and stage tricks by which acting can be grotesque-
ly simulated. Pinero is simply character acting in
the domain of authorship.' Many pinchbeck his-
trionic reputations in England and America would
be shattered by this dictum if the public but
realized it. 'Oscar Wilde is an arch-artist ; he is
colossally lazy.' And hitting off the critical con-
descension with which Wilde's pieces were once
received by many critics in England, Shaw coolly
remarks : 'I am the only person in London who
cannot sit down and write an Oscar Wilde play
at will.' 'Mr. Barrie makes a pretty character as
a milliner makes a bonnet, by matching materials ;
he has no eye for human character, only a keen
sense for human qualities.' "

Shaw himself seems to have regarded his
critical work as wasteful. When at last he
resigned his seat among the critical mighty
to make room for Max Beerbohm, that forger
of clever paradoxes, he remarked, with the
conceit characteristic of all his published ut-
terances, that he could never justify to himself
the spending of four years on dramatic criti-
cism, and that he had sworn an oath to endure
no more of it.

"Never again," he exclaimed, "will I cross
the threshold of a theater. The subject is ex-
hausted, and so am I."

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

"PLEASE ASK MR. BURRESS TO GO"
A stirring scene in Klein's new play, "The Daughters of Men," in which the hero is called upon to decide
between his loyalty to his Love and to the cause of Labor.

"THE DAUGHTERS OF MEN"— KLEIN'S NEW PLAY

HE new play, "The Daughters of
Men," by Charles Klein, author of
"The Music Master" and "The Lion
and the Mouse," is founded on the
conflict between capital and labor. It is pos-
sible that in it the preacher of political com-
promise at times somewhat obscures the dram-
atist, but the characters are well drawn, and
it is evident from the scenes we reprint (by
permission of H. B. Harris, from the acting
copy) that "The Daughters of Men" rises in
several instances to points of high dramatic
tension. "The play," says the New York
Times, "is distinctly a product of Mr. Klein's
own and individual school. Qualities marking
his previous success of 'The Lion and the
Mouse' exist here perhaps more deliberately
emphasized and more skilfully combined."

The characters of the play are divided into
two hostile camps, the Federated Companies
and the Federated Brotherhood, a labor or-
ganization. John Stedman, the hero of the
play, a sincere and clean type of young Amer-
ica, is the intellectual leader of a great national
strike against the Companies. His associates
are mostly half-educated radicals and politi-
cians of a self-seeking type — James Burress,
Louis Stolbeck and Oscar Lackett. The most
luminous exception is the just and level-minded
President of the Brotherhood, Patrick Mc-
Carthy. Louis Stolbeck, betrothed to Bur-
ress, but in love with Stedman, is a "daughter
of the people," whose kind disposition has been
spoiled by an utter lack of restraint in her edu-

cation. On the capitalistic side we find en-
listed Richard Milbank— "Uncle" Milbank— a
business man of the old type, who preaches
"a little sentiment and a little compromise";
his partner, James Thedford, and his nephew,
Matthew Crosby, stern, cold, uncompromising
financiers; and Reginald Crosby, the black
sheep of the family, whose marriage to
an actress (Bella) is a continuous source
of trouble to his staid relatives. The most
important member of the group, however, is
Grace Crosby, sister of Matthew and
Reginald, and heroine of the play. The in-
evitable happens. Grace Crosby and John
Stedman meet, see and are conquered by the
little god of bow and arrows. The strike is on
the point of completely paralyzing the business
of the Confederated Company and excitement
is at the highest pitch, when it transpires that
Grace desires to marry Stedman and that he is
on his way to ask for her hand. Grace's
brothers treat the labor leader with contempt,
but when Uncle Milbank hears that his grand-
father was governor of a State, he proposes
that the young man shall come over into their
camp, and, instead of attacking corporations,
defend them. He puts the matter before Grace.
The latter attempts to persuade Stedman to
give up his cause for her sake, but meets with
a staunch refusal. While this discussion is go-
ing on, Jim Burress appears at the door.

Matthew: This gentleman insists on seeing
you, Mr. Stedman. He declined to give his name.
He said he knew you were here and that his

CURRENT LITERATURE

Oh, you flatter me.

Burress ! Jim

"COME HERE AND TELL THEM WHERE YOU
ARE"
The most dramatic moment in "The Daughters of
Men," in which Louise, the working girl, challenges
Grace, the daughter of luxury.

business was of such a nature that it admitted of
no delay.

Burress: Quite right, Mr. Crosby; it don't.
Mr. John Stedman is one of the grand officers of
our Interstate Unions and we need him at head-
quarters at once.

Stedman : Who told you I was here ?

Burress: Louise.

Stedman: Louise!

{Grace looks at Stedman as if wondering who
Louise is.)

Burress: Yes; I reported it to the Executive
Board, which is sitting now, and was deputed to
fetch you.

Stedman : To fetch me ?

Burress: Well, I said I'd come back with you.
(Aside to him.) In twenty- four hours every
man, woman and child on our rolls in the United
States will walk out free and independent citi-
zens, unless our demands are complied with.

Stedman: The West going to go out! Think
of the public suffering ! (Shakes his head.) This
move is premature.

Burress: Is it? Well, the Council don't
think so; but we don't expect you to see things
quite as we do, Mr. Stedman. Our idea is to hit
and then to notify 'em that you've done it.

(An uncomfortable pause.)

Burress: Well, are you coming?

Stedman: Yes. (Burress stands as if waiting
for Stedman.) Wait for me downstairs.

Burress : Downstairs ?

Stedman : Yes, downstairs.

Burress: The Grand Council is waiting, Mr.
Stedman, and I've no doubt they'll be very glad
if you'll explain to them the meaning of this
combine. (Indicates Milbank and Matthew.)

Milbank: What does he mean?

Matthew: Who is this gentleman?

Burress : Gentleman !

(Enter Thedford.)

Thedford: (Sees Burress.)
Burress! (Laughs.)

Milbank : Burress, the anarchist ?

Matthew: Burress, the — the (In disgust)

Ah!

(Milbank sits in chair.)

Thedford : I suppose we are indebted to Mr.
Stedman for the honor of this visit.

Burress: I see I'm not as popular here as you
are, Mr. Stedman. Well, I'm sorry I shock your
friends.

Milbank (to Stedman) : Please ask Mr. Bur-
ress to go.

Stedman : I'm going with him.

Grace : No — ah !

(Grace looks at him reproachfully. Pause.)

Burress: All right. I'll tell the council you
refuse to come.

Stedman : I'm going with you, Burress.

Burress: Oh, all right — you've changed your
mind, eh! Well, good day, gentlemen — Miss
(bows to Grace). I'm sorry to have intruded,
but Mr. Stedman will tell you it's irnportant —
important to him and to us, too. I'm waiting for
you downstairs, Stedman. Don't be long.

Stedman : I trust you will pardon his calling.
I didn't know he knew I was here.

Grace: Louise knew. You told her you were
going to see me.

Stedman : Grace !

Milbank : And you prefer men of his class to
us?

Stedman: No — no — he doesn't represent the
real element.

Milbank: If you leave here to go away with
him, my niece will never speak to you, never see
you again. Grace — you won't — will you?

Matthew: No, I'll promise that.

Grace : Don't go with him.

Stedman: I must.

Milbank : Now choose — Jim Burress or — or

Grace: Or me. Oh, surely — you — John, you

Stedman : I must go ; I must ; there's no way
out of it.

Milbank : Then go — go. Tell him to go, Grace.
(Pause.)

Matthew : Tell him to go. Have you no pride ?

(Grace struggles with herself, is about to
speak.)

Stedman : No. I'll go without being told. At
least I'll spare her the indignity of telling me.
Good-by, Grace.

Grace (with an effort) : My uncle is right. It
is better that you go with Mr. Burress. I don't
want to — to spoil your career. Good-by.

Stedman : Good-by.

(Bows to men and goes out. Matthew shuts
door.)

Matthew: That's the end of John Stedman.

Milbank : He's a fool.

Matthew : A fool ! He's as big a rascal as the
other fellow. They're all tarred with the same
brush. (To Grace) And you thought this man
good enough to marry into your family !

Grace : Good enough ! He's far too good.
He's better than we are, Matthew! Yes, uncle,
he's better than we are. He has more principle,
more courage, more honor, than any of us, for
he stands by his promise and I don't — I don't.
I haven't the courage. Don't you see I'm not

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

good enough for him! He gives up the woman
he loves, he gives up his whole life for his fellow-
man. What do we give up? Nothing — nothing.
Everything must be sacrificed to our own selfish
interests. Well, I hope you're satisfied.

The second act takes place in John Sted-
man's rooms two months later. Louise appears,
to warn Stedman that her father and Burress
are preparing to make a move against him in
the Grand Council. They will accuse him of
playing into the hands of the capitalists, and
even drag his affair with Grace into their dis-
cussions. Before she has time to get away
Grace also makes her appearance, chaperoned
by her sister-in-law, Mrs. Reginald Crosby.
The latter and Louise have a little unpleasant-
ness, and Mrs. Crosby leaves the room and
goes to wait in the carriage. Louise likewise
goes out. It appears that the object of Grace's
visit is to inform Stedman that her family's
business interests have greatly suffered, owing
to the strike, and implores him to use his in-
fluence to achieve a compromise. She seems
to be under the utterly erroneous impression
that the extension of the strike is his revenge
for the slight he received at the hands of her
brother. At this moment Louise re-enters, ex-
citedly announcing that her father and Jim
Burress are downstairs. She asks Stedman to
send them away, as she does not want to be
seen with him. Stedman assents and asks
Grace to permit him to take her to her carriage
as soon as the interview is terminated. Louise
makes the startling statement that the carriage
is gone. Stedman hurries downstairs to ascer-
tain the truth. Louise locks the door, laughs
to herself as in triumph, and watches Grace
silently for a few moments. She then con-
fesses in jealous rage that she sent the car-
riage away and charges Grace with having
come to bribe Stedman with her love. The
girl replies that she has come without the
knowledge of her family in the hope of bridg-
ing the gulf between the opposing forces.

Louise: It can never be done. The gulf is too.
wide.

Grace: And you would widen it.

Louise : When we've beaten you, you'll hold
out your hands to us, and not before. And we
shall beat you — beat you until you acknowledge
us to be your equals socially as well as finan-
cially.

Grace: And you hold such false ideas of life —
such pernicious theories — accuse me of trying
to destroy John Stedman's career. Ah ! you
have shown me my duty. Yes, my duty. I shall
see him again — and again — as often as possible.
I shall protect him; I shall save him from you.

Louise: You mean you will save him for
yourself.

{Laughs a little hysterical laugh as if she were
furiously angry.)

Grace : I shall save him from you.

Louise : And your family — ^your aristocratic
relations — what will they say? {Pause.) They
don't know you are here, you said. {Suddenly)
Well, I think they ought to ! I think they ought
to — and they shall. {Goes to telephone. Takes
down receiver.) Give me 1103 Plaza — 1103 — ^yes.
{To Grace) Oh, I know the number; I've
looked it up. I know all about it, and all about
you and your sister-in-law, the actress, and your
young profligate of a brother. You're very brave,
aren't you? Well, I'm going to put your
courage to the test. Hello! Is Mr. Matthew
Crosby there? Yes. Is Mr. Richard Milbank
there? Tell them to come to the wire, either of
them. {Pause.) Either of them — yes — or both.
It doesn't matter which. {To Grace) Now,
if you're not afraid, come here and tell them
where you are. {Holds receiver out to her.)
Tell them you're in John Stedman's rooms.

Grace : Ah — no — no

Louise: If you don't, I will. {Laughs.) Ah,
I knew you were afraid. But if you want to save
John Stedman you'll have to take your family
into your confidence. You'll have to take the
whole world into your confidence. It can't be
done as your class does everythine — on the sly.
It shall be shouted from the house-tops.

Grace {with dignity) : You are quite right.
Miss Stolbeck. {Goes to telephone unruffled.
Then slowly) I thank you for having shown me
my proper course of action. I should have taken
my family into my confidence. Hello !

Louise {weakening) : Never mind. Miss Cros-
by. Don't — don't speak.

Grace {at telephone) : Hello !

Louise : Please don't speak, Miss Crosby. Tell
them there's a mistake, that you don't want them.

Grace {at telephone) : Is that you, Matthew?

Louise : Don't speak, I tell you— don't — don't.
Ah ! {In agony) I shouldn't have done it ! I
shouldn't have done it ! It was a devilish im-
pulse and I yielded to it — ^yielded to it! Ah —
don't !

Grace {at telephone) : Yes.

Louise: Ah, for God's sake — don't — don't!

Grace {at telephone) : I am here, at Mr. Sted-
man's rooms.

Louise : Oh, don't you hear me asking — ^begging
you not to. You sha'n't tell them — you sha'n't.

Grace : 550 Washington Square.

Louise {sees it is too late) : O God — don't !
He'll never forgive me ! He'll never forgive me !

Grace {at telephone) : Isabel has left with the
carriage. Please send for me at once — at once.

Louise {throws herself into chair, lets her
head fall on table) : Why did I do it — why? Oh,
this devilish nature of mine ! He'll never speak
to me again — never see me again.

Grace : Yes — please don't delay — 550 — yes.
Good-by. {Hangs up receiver. Sees Louise's
abject misery.)

Louise : Well, you've beaten me — beaten me
at my own game. Now I suppose you'll tell him
what I've done. Well, tell him ; I don't care.

Grace: Why should I tell Mr. Stedman?

Louise: Why — I've had my revenge. You're
entitled to yours, aren't you? I made you give
yourself away, and now you've the chance to pay
me back in my own coin.

CURRENT LITERATURE

Grace : I don't want to pay you back in your
own coin.

Louise : You don't ?

Grace : Why, no.

Louise (in a blind fury) : Ah, that's where
you beat us — that's the gulf between us. I never
knew why it was women of your class always
looked down on women of my class — why you
were always so superior — and now I see it. If
I think anything, I out with it; but with you it's
all self-control, self-repression, as he calls it.
You hate me like poison, but you don't show it.
You could kill me as I stand here, but you're as
calm as if you were riding in your carriage. You
could take your revenge by telling him what I've
done, but you won't, because it's a finer kind of
cruelty to heap coals of fire on my head and say
nothing. That's class, that's breeding, as he calls
it, and that's what you've got — and what we
haven't. Ah, I knew there was something want-
ing in us — something that he misses in me. I
see it now. But I'll rob you of your revenge this
time. I'll tell him myself. I'll tell him myself.

Grace: O Louise, Louise, don't, don't go on
that way. You are causing yourself, you are
causing me, so much needless pain. I know you
don't deliberately intend to be cruel, but when
you talk that way, you are — ^you are cruel — hor-
ribly cruel. I don't want to see you suffer, be-
lieve me. Believe me, I don't hate you ; I could
even love you if you'd let me. Give up this false
notion that there is any gulf between us — between
one class and another. There is no gulf but the
gulf of vour own making — the barrier you think
exists — the barrier that always will exist while
you believe it does. I believe, I know, I love
you as one human being should love another.
At least, I love you more than you do me. And
as soon as you realize that love, the gulf you
speak of will be bridged over. O Louise, the
whole thing is only a false estimate of Truth.
Louise! (Holds out her hand to Louise, who
stares helplessly at her.)

Louise (breaking down) : Oh, I know I'm all
wrong — wrong from my very birth. I've no re-
ligion, I've nothing. Ever since I was that high
I've been brought up on the doctrine of hatred
and despair. The doctrine of "do or you'll be
done," not "do unto others as you would they
should do unto you." I know I'm all wrong, but
I must try — I will try harder than I've ever tried
before to — to — oh — oh — I wish I was dead — I
wish I was dead!

Grace: No, no. (Puts her arm around
Louise.) You don't mean that.

Louise: Yes I do. Ah, it's too late — too late.
But you forgive me — ^you forgive me — don't you?
Perhaps I can make up for — ^you wait !

(Knock on door. Knock again. Louise pays
no attention. Grace goes to door. Stedman's
voice outside — "Louise!" Enter Stedman quick-
ly.)

Stedman: Your father is downstairs with
Burress. I've put him off, but I think he's seen
you. At any rate, he suspects something, and
Fm afraid he means mischief.

Louise : Let them come in. I don't care. I
deserve it.

Stedman, however, succeeds in persuading
Louise to hide with Grace in a rear room.
Burress and Stolbeck enter, and Matthew

Crosby with Milbank follow a moment later.
The opposing factions are thus accidentally
brought to gather and after some preliminary
conversation Stedman proposes to talk their
difficulties over right on the spot.

As curtain rises, in the third act, the atti-
tude of the various characters shows that a
discussion has been going on and that Matthew
Crosby and Milbank are thoroughly bored and
are only remaining there because they want to
get Grace away. The discussion is at the
point of breaking up when President Mc-
Carthy, of the Western Division of the United
Federal Brotherhood, arrives. Lackett, who
comes in with McCarthy, charges Stedman
with treason, and, having caught the hint that
Grace Crosby is in the adjoining room, trium-
phantly calls upon her to appear. The pres-
ence of the girl, he thinks, would elucidate
clearly Stedman's motive in betraying the
"cause." However, instead of Grace, Louise
enters the room. Lackett and Burress now in-
sinuate that the very appearance of the Cros-
bys, Thedford and Milbank in Stedman's rooms
proves Stedman's treachery. As they will not
discuss the issue at hand, and Stedman refuses
to give an ej^planation of the presence of his
visitors, McCarthy remarks that he will be
forced to report the matter. Hereupon Lackett
and Burress taunt Stedman with his capital-
istic friends and his Utopian schemes. He
realizes that there is "no human sympathy, no
kindness, no love in them,'' and after his
passionate appeal for reconciliation is rejected,
offers his resignation. Matthew Crosby, Mil-
bank and Thedford applaud.

Lackett: Don't let him bluff you, Mr. Mc-
Carthy; he isn't on the level.

Louise (comes down stage) : He is on the
level, and more on the level than any of you.

Burress: Then let him tell us what these
people want here.

Louise: It's all my fault — my fault. I — I — I
could tell you, but I won't. There's nothing be-
tween them — before God I swear there isn't.
They don't like him any more than you do. Be-
cause he tells them the truth as he tells you the
truth, and they don't relish it any more than you
do.

Burress: Let him order them out of his rooms
and I'll withdraw my charges.

Louise: Jim Burress, if you make any charges
against him I'll never speak to you again — ^never
— never, so help me God! (To Stolbeck) If
you repudiate him, father, I'll — I'll repudiate you.
Don't listen to them, Mr. McCarthy; don't be-
lieve them.

Stedman: Louise, Louise, it isn't worth while.

(Enter Grace.)

Grace: It is worth while, Mr. Stedman; it is
worth while.

Milbank: Grace!

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

Grace: I could stay there and listen no longer.
Mr. Stedman, you are doing yourselves a gross
injustice.

Louise : O Miss Crosby, why did you come
out?

Matthew : Grace !

Burress: What did
meeting !

Stolbeck :

Matthew

Grace : I

I tell you ? Ha ! a family

Ha ! The cat is out of the bag !
Grace, remain silent,
must speak. Mr. Stedman, you can-
not, you dare not, resign.

Lackett: What a headline this will make: The
submerged tenth finally meets beauty, fashion
and wealth on a question of mutual social in-
terest.

Burress : There's my proof, Mr. McCarthy.
They've got at him through her. I told you there
was an understanding between them.

Grace: There's no understanding between us
but the understanding that right is might and
that only that which is good can be right. It is
worth while, Mr. Stedman ; these men don't
know what they are doing. (To the men) I
warn you, if you reject Mr. Stedman you reject
the only man who understands how to help you
gain the victory which really means permanent
peace and plenty for your comfoit and happiness,
for your wives and children. That victory must
be a victory over yourselves as well as over your
employers.

Burress : Thank you, miss. Come on, Mac,
Stolbeck.

Stolbeck : Ha ! Yes, I should say so ! Women
and politics not for me. Come, Louise. (Stol-
beck and Burress go.)

McCarthy (gathering up papers) : I'm sorry,
Miss, but I must yield to the majority. Lackett,
you keep this lady's name out of your paper.

Lackett: Yes, but — I

McCarthy : If you don't, you'll answer to me,
personally. Understand? We're not fighting
women.

Lackett: Well, what about your report?

McCarthy : My report is my business. (Lackett
goes.) Good night, Stedman. I shall see you in
the morning.

Stedman: Yes, McCarthy. Ah, I wish there
were more like you.

Milbank : And so do I. One moment, Mr. Mc-
Carthy. I want you to be at our office to-morrow
at noon. And you too, Mr. Stedman. I think
this matter ought to be settled.

Stedman : It can be settled.

McCarthy: Yes, sir, it can.

Matthew : Uncle !

Thedford: Mr. Milbank!

Milbank : And you'll be there, Matthew. You
too. Thedford. Twelve o'clock to-morrow, Mr.
McCarthy. In the meantime I wish you good
night. (Offers hand to McCarthy. McCarthy
shakes it warmly.)

McCarthy: Good night, sir; twelve o'clock
to-morrow, Stedman.

Stedman: I'll be there, McCarthy.

McCarthy: Thank you very much for your
kindness, sir. This is your, work, Stedman.
Good night, gentlemen.

(Shakes hands with Stedman, bows to rest and
goes.)

Burress (off stage) : Louise!

Louise (comes down and takes Stedman' s hand.

Aside to him) : You're right, Mr. Stedman; she's
worth a thousand of me.

(Enter Burress.)

Burress: Louise, your father is waiting.

Louise (angrily) Let him wait.

Burress : Well, I'm waiting too.

Louise : Oh, are you ? Well, if you wait for
me you'll wait till your epitaph is written.

Burress : What do you mean ?

Louise : I mean I've changed my mind. I'm
going home alone. Good-night, Mr. Burress.

(She goes, followed by Burress.)

Thedford : At last !

Matthew (angrily) : Grace, you have brought
contempt on us. You have

Milbank : I think, Matthew, we'll make no
further reference to the matter — at least, not
here.

Matthew: Very well. (To Grace) Defer your
explanation until

Grace : Explanation ? I have nothing to ex-
plain. It is you who must explain. Mr. Stedman
was right when he said that men have no sym-
pathy in their hearts. They have only hatred for
each other. That's what requires an explanation.
They hate us, Matthew ; how do you explain
that? They hate us, uncle; can you explain it?
Can you, Mr. Thedford? Oh, it's all wrong —
all wrong. Can't you see something must be
done to bring the human family together?
Money is fast separating us. They hate us and
it's as much our fault as theirs — as much our
fault as theirs.

Stedman: Oh, I knew you'd see; I knew you'd
see.

Matthew: Grace, we are waiting for you.

Grace: I'm will to do my share. (Sudden-
ly) Uncle, Matthew, Mr. Thedford, won't you
give the men what they ask? For my sake! I'll
give up my fortune — anything — anything!

Matthew (to Milbank) : She is under the in-
fluence of that man; absolutely under his in-
fluence.

Milbank : I'm afraid so.

Thedford : Damn him ! Why has he been al-
lowed to assert himself?

Matthew : We don't want him, and his own
followers don't want him. No one wants him.

Grace : Yes ! I want him ! I want him !

Stedman : Grace !

Grace : Let me tell you, Matthew, uncle and,
above all, you, Mr. Thedford, you have brought
about the very thing you have worked most to
avoid. I never realized until to-night that I —
that I — you have forced me to speak — I was so
essential to Mr. Stedman's happiness, or that he
was so — so necessary to mine.

Stedman : Grace !

Grace: Forgive me, John; I know it's un-
womanly, but I couldn't help it. You sacrificed
yourself with your own party to save my name
from the breath of scandal. You would have
sacrificed your whole life. Oh, it's worth while,
it is worth while ! •

Stedman : Yes, it is worth while.

Thedford: How dare he!

(Milbank restrains him.)

Milbank: What's the use; what's the use?

Matthew: I won't consent.

Milbank : I'm afraid you won't be asked.

CURTAIN.

Religion and Ethics

A MODERN PROPHET'S INDICTMENT OF
OUR CIVILIZATION

MERICANS who care deeply for
their country and can look beyond
the issues of the moment toward
vistas that stretch on forever are
likely to find occasion for much fruitful
thought and healthy introspection in the latest
work ♦ of that novelist of genius and modem
prophet, H. G. Wells. Mr. Wells visited the
United States last Spring with the express
purpose of catching the significance and drift
of our civilization and recording his impres-
sion on paper. In the first enthusiasm of
his experience he fulfilled this purpose, and
the result is a breathless, passionate estimate,
lacking, it is true, in judicial quality, but
gaining, by its very intensity, in spiritual force
and insight. "The book," as the London Spec-
tator remarks, "is illuminating in the fullest
sense, a criticism not only of America, but
of all civilized society, and it is written in a
style which is always attractive and rises
now and then to uncommon beauty and power,
for Mr. Wells is as much poet as sociologist.
He sees his data not greyly set out on a
laboratory table, but touched with the eternal
mystery of human hopes and fears."

At the outset, Mr. Wells declares that in
this, as in all his work, he has been domi-
nated by a sense of the prophetic. He is con-
cerned not so much with the America that is
as with the America that is to be. "The pomp
and splendor of established order, the bray-
ing triumphs, ceremonies, consummations, one
sees these glittering shows for what they are
— through their threadbare grandeur shine the
little significant things that will make the fu-
ture," More specifically, he explains:

"My hero in the confused drama of human
life is intelligence; intelligence inspired by con-
structive passion. There is a demigod im-
prisoned in mankind. All human history pre-
sents itself to me as the unconscious or half-
unconscious struggle of human thought to emerge
from the sightless interplay of instinct, individual
passion, prejudice, and ignorance. One sees this
diviner element groping after law and order and
fine arrangement, like a thing blind and half-
buried, in ancient Egypt, in ancient Judaea, in
ancient Greece. It embodies its purpose in re-
ligions, invents the disciplines of morality, the

•The FtJTUEB iw Amekica: A Search Afteb Realities.
By H. G. Wells. Harper and Brothers.

reminders of ritual. It loses itself and becomes
confused. It wearies and rests. In Plato, for
the first time, one discovers it conscious and open-
eyed, trying, indeed, to take hold of life and con-
trol it Then it goes under and becomes agfain
a convulsive struggle, an uncoordinated gripping
and leaving, a muttering of literature and art, un-
til the coming of our own times. Most painful
and blundering demigods it seems through all
that space of years, with closed eyes and feverish
effort. And now again it is clear to the minds of
many men that they may lay hold upon and con-
trol the destiny of their kind."

In applying this heroic standard to Ameri-
can civilization, Mr. Wells finds us deficient
at almost every point. Our cities are big
indeed, he admits; but, according to his way
of thinking, their bigness lies rather in ma-
terial bulk than in constructive intelligence. Of
New York he writes: "Noise and human
hurry and a vastness of means and collective
result, rather than any vastness of achieve-
ment, is the pervading quality of New York";
while he says of Chicago : "It is the most per-
fect presentation of nineteenth-century indi-
vidualistic industrialism I have ever seen — in
its vast, its magnificent squalor." He con-
tinues :

"Chicago is one hoarse cry for discipline! The
reek and scandal of the stock-yards is really only
a gigantic form of that same quality in Ameri-
can life that, in a minor aspect, makes the side-
walks filthy. The key to the peculiar nasty ugli-
ness of the Schoellkopf works that defile the Ni-
agara gorge is of the same quality. The detesta-
bleness of the elevated railroads of Chicago and
Boston and New York have this in common. All
that is ugly in America, in Lancashire, in South
and East London, in ,he Pas de Calais, is due to
this, to the shoving unintelligent proceedings of
underbred and morally obtuse men. Each man is
for himself, each enterprise ; there is no order, no
prevision, no common and universal plan."

In the older countries, Mr. Wells goes on
to say, men who become rich enter a world
that already has its traditions of public ser-
vice and authority; but in America the rich
"swell up into an immense consumption and
power and inanity, develop no sense of public
duties, remain winners of a strange game
they do not criticize, concerned now only to
hold and intensify their winnings." One of
the results of the "lust of acquisition" is an
orgy of spending, and under this category

RELIGION AND ETHICS

Mr. Wells includes not merely expenditure
for selfish purposes, but philanthropic bene-
factions. He writes:

"American cities are being lUtered with a dis-
order of unsystematized foundations and pictur-
esque legacies, much as I find my nursery floor
littered with abandoned toys and battles and
buildings when the children are in bed after a
long, wet day. Yet some of the gifts are very
splendid things. There is, for example, the Le-
land Stanford Junior University in California,
a vast monument of parental affection and Rich-
ardsonian architecture, with professors, and
teaching going on in its interstices; and there is
Mrs. Gardner's delightful Fenway Court, a Vene-
ticm palace, brought almost bodily from Italy and
full of finely gathered treasurers. . . .

"All this giving is, in its aggregate effect, as
confused as industrial Chicago. It presents no
clear scheme of the future, promises no growth;
it is due to the impulsive generosity of mob of
wealthy persons, with no broad, common concep-
tions, with no collective dream, with little to hold
them together but imitation and the burning pos-
session of money ; the gifts overlap, they lie at any
angle one with another. Some are needless, some
mischievous. There are great gaps of unfulfilled
need between.

"And through the multitude of lesser, tho still
mighty, givers, comes that colossus of property,
Mr. Andrew Carnegie, the jubilee plunger of ben-
eficence, that rosy, gray-haired, nimble little fig-
ure, going to and fro between two continents,
scattering library buildings as if he sowed wild
oats, buildings that may or may not have some
educational value, if presently they are reorgan-
ized and properly stocked with books. Anon he
appals the thrifty burgesses of Dunfermline with
vast and uncongenial responsibilities of expendi-
ture; anon he precipitates the library of the late
Lord Acton upon our embarrassed Mr. Morley;
anon he pauperizes the students of Scotland. He
diffuses his monument throughout the English-
speaking lands, amid circumstances of the most
flagrant publicity; the receptive learned, the
philanthropic noble, bow in expectant swaths be-
fore him. He is the American fable come true;
nothing seems too wild to believe of him, and he
fills the European imagination with an altogether
erroneous conception of the self-dissipating qual-
ity in American wealth."

Mr. Wells thinks that "state blindness" is
the most serious malady from which Ameri-
cans suffer at the present time. "I do not
mean," he says, "that the typical American
is not passionately and vigorously patriotic,
but I mean that he has no perception that his
business activities, his private employments,
are constituents in a large collective process;
that they affect other people and the world
forever, and cannot, as he imagines, begin
and end with him." He is "fundamentally
honest," but "confused ethically." The
charge that the financial leaders of the nation
are "unparalleled villains, conscienceless con-
querors," Mr. Wells thinks ridiculous. "Mr.
J. D. Rockefeller's mild, thin-lipped, pleasant

face," he observes, "gives the lie to all such
melodramatic nonsense." In Mr. Wells's eyes
this great Standard Oil magnate is "an in-
dustrious, acquisitive, commonplace, pious
man, as honestly and simply proud of his ac-
quisitiveness as a stamp collector might be."
To quote further:

"At times, in his acquisitions, the strength of
his passion may have driven him to lengths be-
yond the severe moral code, but the same has
been true of stamp-collectors. He is a man who
has taken up with great natural aptitude an igno-
ble tradition which links economy and earning
with piety and honor. His teachers were to
blame, that Baptist community that is now so
ashamed of its son that it refuses his gifts. To a
large extent he is the creature of opportunity;
he has been flung to the topmost pinnacle of hu-
man envy, partly by accident, partly by that pecu-
liarity of American conditions that has subordi-
nated, in the name of liberty, all the grave and en-
nobling affairs of statecraft to a middle-class free-
dom of commercial enterprise. Quarrel with that
if you like. It is unfair and ridiculous to quarrel
with him."

Our distinguished visitor was impressed by
a quality of harshness, as well as of kindness
and hospitality, in the American tempera-
ment. He finds concrete instances of this
quality in the "social lynching" of Maxim
Gorky and in the — to him unjustifiable — im-
prisonment of the anarchist, MacQueen. He
also carries the analogy into broader fields,
and speaks with feeling of the horrors of
child slavery and the prevalent attitude to-
ward the negro. "My globe-trotting impu-
dence," he remarks, "will seem, no doubt, to
mount to its zenith when I declare that hardly
any Americans at all seem to be in posses-
sion of the elementary facts in relation to
the negro question." His sympathies, he con-
fesses, are all with the colored people; and
toward the close of a chapter on "The
Tragedy of Color," he makes the statement:

"Whatever America has to show in heroic liv-
mg to-day, I doubt if she can show anything finer
than the quality of the resolve, the steadfast effort
hundreds of black and colored men are making
to-day to live blamelessly, honorably and pa-
tiently, getting for themselves what scraps of re-
finement, learning and beauty they may, keeping
their hold on a civilization they are grudged and
denied."

Despite all his hostile criticism, Mr. Wells
ends his book with an affirmation of his con-
viction that "in America the leadership of
progress must ultimately rest":

"The problem of America, save in its scale and
freedom, is no different from the problem of
Great Britain, of Europe, of all humanity; it is
one chiefly moral and intellectual ; it is to resolve
a confusion of purposes, traditions, habits, into a

CURRENT LITERATURE

common ordered intention. Everywhere one finds
what seem to me the beginnings of that — and, for
this epoch it is all too possible, they may get no
further than beginnings. Yet another Decline and
Fall may remain to be written, another and an-
other, and it may be another, before the World
State comes and Peace.

"Yet against this prospect of a dispersal of
will, of a secular decline in honor, education, pub-
lic spirit, and confidence, of a secular intensifica-
tion of corruption, lawlessness and disorder, I do,
with a confidence that waxes and wanes, balance
the creative spirit in America, and that kindred
spirit that for me finds its best symbol in Presi-
dent Roosevelt's gesticulating figure. Who can
gauge the far-reaching influence of even the sci-
ence we have, in ordering and quickening the
imagination of man, in enhancing and assuring
their powers ? Common men feel secure to-day in

enterprises it needed men of genius to conceive
in former times. And there is a literature — for
all our faults we do write more widely, deeply,
disinterestedly, more freely and frankly than any
set of writers ever did before — reaching incal-
culable masses of readers, and embodying an
amount of common consciousness and purpose be-
yond all precedent. . . . Things are done in
the light, more and more are they done in the
light. The world perceives and thinks. .

"After all is said and done, I find the balance of
my mind tilts steadily to a belief in a continuing
and accelerated progress now in human affairs.
And in spite of my patriotic incHnations, in spite,
too, of the present high intelligence and efficiency
of Germany, it seems to me that in America, by
sheer virtue of its size, its free traditions, and the
habit of initiative in its people, the leadership of
progress must ultimately rest."

EFFICIENCY AS THE TRUE TEST OF CHARACTER

HE emphasis of the past has been
set too often on abstract morality
and "goodness"; the need of the
present is practical accomplishment
and efficiency. So, at least, avers William H.
Allen, a writer in The World's Work (No-
vember). Convinced that good government,
in whatever field, will never be possible so
long as goodness is to be the sole or even the
chief qualification of its officers, he proposes to
substitute an "efficiency test" for the goodness
test. "Goodness," he claims, "is a false cri-
terion for three reasons : we cannot agree upon
its meaning; it does not prevent the continu-
ance of bad government ; and other tests have
been proved to be more trustworthy."

Under the first head, that of the impossi-
bility of defining goodness, Mr. Allen writes:

"To some, working and playing golf on Sun-
day are evils worse even than smoking cigarettes,
playing cards, or using profane language. Hun-
dreds of thousands of good people cannot believe
in the goodness of others who refuse to sub-
scribe to some particular orthodoxy, to a pro-
gram of Sunday closing, to prohibition, or to
woman's suffrage. The incarnation of evil to the
avenue — the ward-heeler — is the incarnation of
good to the alley. One man deems ingratitude,
selfishness, or evasiveness incompatible with good-
ness ; but his neighbor overlooks these weaknesses
if the candidate attends church regularly, sup-
ports his poor relations, organizes enjoyable
picnics, erects handsome monuments, or gives
liberally and frequently to charity. In other
words, the good man we talk about so much does
not exist; or rather he exists in so many shapes
and types that the composite can never be found."

Passing on to a consideration of the alleged
ineffectiveness of goodness as a world-force,
Mr. Allen says :

"Most of the revolting crimes and stupendous
blunders of history have been committed from
good motives. The Spanish Inquisition, the
massacres of Drogheda and St. Bartholomew,
the expulsion of the Moors, the Huguenots, and
the Acadians, the mijrderous proselyting of Mo-
hammed, the crucifixion of Christ are examples.
Epoch-making fallacies have always found earnest
supporters among good men acting only from
good motives. The Hindoo mother is 'good'
when she throws her baby into the Ganges, the
Western crusader is 'good' when she takes the
law into her own hands and smashes saloon prop-
erty; excess of loyalty led the Continental Con-
gress to mistrust Washington; the good men of
the South turned 'white-cap' when the good men
of the North forced an obnoxious reconstruction
policy upon them; religious zealotry too often
ends in hate of men. To protect the goodness
of Athens, Socrates was made to drink hemlock.
In every contest our country has known, good-
ness has supported wrong as well as right. Loyal-
ism in 1776 was confined to |;^ood men, the kind
we now want to enter politics; Patrick Henry
and James Monroe did their best to defeat the
new constitution in 1787; the 'Know-nothings'
were pre-eminently 'good' ; the Presbyterian, Bap-
tist, and Methodist churches divided over the
question of slavery; Horace Greeley was Lin-
coln's harshest critic. At this very time, there
are good men so bigoted as to believe that all
who oppose trusts, protective tariff, and high
license are good, while all who defend them are
bad. Thus it happens that knowing a man to be
good, upright, honorable, Christian, furnishes no
basis whatever for judging whether he believe in
free silver or gold only ; whether he be Protestant,
Catholic or Jew ; Republican, Democrat, or Social-
ist; total abstainer or moderate drinker; a help
or a hindrance to his fellow man. Still less does
it indicate his suitability for the office of mayor,
auditor, alderman, pastor, or hospital trustee."

The true moralist, intimates Mr. Allen, can
have no patience with a merely negative good-

RELIGION AND ETHICS

ness; and "democracy has never in practise
advanced mere goodness." He continues:

"Even in friendship we ask much more than
goodness of a companion for an evening or for
life. We do not forgive a blundering dentist
because he is of irreproachable character. We
measure the caterer's viands, not his morals.
A gardener must grow beautiful plants, not good
intentions. We buy a paper for its news and
illustrations, not for the goodness of its editor.
Whether or not a builder be good is the last
question asked in letting a contract. Shopping
would be impracticable if the shopper were to
seek 'good' dealers instead of good bargains.
Politics has given numerous illustrations of un-
spotted leaders dooming good causes to failure
because of their inefficiency. A 'good' general is
not chosen to command an army in time of war.
Stevenson saw the truth — 'I would rather see a
man capably doing evil than blundering about
good.' "

In religious circles the truth that Mr. Allen
inculcates is already finding acceptance. "The
preacher," he remarks, "must not only be good,
he must know how to preach satisfactorily and
to arouse general interest in parish work."
Furthermore :

"The complex civilization of our day. the re-
quirements imposed upon the church by intelli-

gence in the pew and by outside social condi-
tions have rendered it very difficult to procure an
effective pastor and attractive preacher in one
man. Many churches are still compelled to
compromise and tolerate a poor preacher because
of unusual leadership, or to overlook poor pari.sh
work because of effective preaching. But in very
few parishes is a pastor retained because of
goodness only, even rural districts generally de-
manding more. Ability to sing is beginning to
be regarded as an indispensable qualification for
the choir. 'Goody-goody' books circulate little
farther than water runs up-hill, but in selecting
Sunday-school teachers, city missionaries, and
committee-men, goodness and the desire to do
good are still extolled and permitted to hamper
church progress, against the law of attendance
and interest which is gradually effecting a
transition to the efficiency measure. For the for-
eign field medical missionaries of approved train-
ing are preferred, and all must first pass physical,
educational, and personality tests. Theological
seminaries with lengthening courses, rigid ex-
aminations by men who apply the test of probable
results, teachers' classes, deaconesses' training
schools — everywhere is the unmistakable repudia-
tion of the 'goodness test.' "

In short, says Mr. Allen, "the modern
Diogenes does not go about with a lantern
seeking goodness; he looks for efficiency, and
expects 'goodness' to be thrown in."

A LITERARY SPECIALIST'S TRIBUTE TO THE BIBLE

jHERE can be no doubt," says Prof.
J. H. Gardiner, of Harvard Uni-
versity, "that above all other
books in English the Bible has
the power of stirring the imagination and
moving the soul" ; and this inspiring power,
he goes on to say, is something almost apart
from religious appeal. Under its spell, mem-
bers of Christian churches and unbelievers are
alike awakened to "a sense of realities which
are on a higher plane than the affairs of every-
day life."

These statements occur in a book* in which
Professor Gardiner, as a specialist in English
literature, deals with the literary values, rather
than the theological aspects, of the Bible. If
he were a special pleader in behalf of the
Scriptures, his tribute could not be more
whole-hearted. When one puts the greatest
work of modern writers, such as Milton,
Browning, even Shakespeare, beside the Bible,
"one finds," he says, "the modern writing al-

*The Bible as English Literature. By J. H. Gardiner,
Assistant Professor of English in Harvard University.
Houghton, Mifflin & Company.

most trivial and ephemeral beside the old." He
continues :

"Much reading in the Bible will soon bring one
to an understanding of the mood in which all
art seems a juggling with trifles, and an attempt
to catch the unessential when the everlasting veri-
ties are slipping by. The silent, unhurrying
rumination of the East makes our modern flood
of literature seem garrulous and chattering; even
the great literature of the Greeks loses beside
the compression and massiveness of the Old Tes-
tament. It is this cool solidity of poise, this
grave and weighty compression of speech, that
makes the Old Testament literature so foreign.
It has no pride of art, no interest in the sub-
jective impressions of the writer, no care even
for the preservation of his name. It is' austerely
preoccupied with the lasting and the real, and
above all, unceasingly possessed with the sense
of the immediate presence of a God who is
omnipotent and inscrutable. This constant pre-
occupation with the eternal and the superhuman
gives to this literature a sense of proportion
which again separates it from other literature.
Beside the will of the Almighty the joys and
griefs and ambitions of any single writer are a
vanity of vanities, a vexation of spirit, or as the
Hebrew is more closely translated in the Re-
vised Version, 'a striving after wind.' It is as
if, in the words of the marginal reading of

CURRENT LITERATURE

Ecclesiastes iii, God had 'set eternity in their
heart' In our modern literature it is hardly pos-
sible to find an author who has not some touch
of the restless egotism that is the curse of the
artistic temperament; in the Bible there is no au-
thor who was not free from it.

"In this art which is not art, then, in this ab-
sorption with the solid facts of reality and the
neglect of man's comment and interpretation, in
the unswerving instinct for the lasting, and the
sense of the constant and immediate presence of
an omnipotent God, the Bible stands apart in our
literature."

And yet, in spite of its majestic solitude, the
Bible is of all books the one most completely
possessed by English-speaking people. "There
is no other book," observes Professor Gar-
diner, "of which it can be said that for many
generations all classes of the people were
equally familiar with it." This familiarity ex-
ists at both ends of the social scale, and is
characteristic of poor and uneducated, as of
rich and cultured people. Bunyan and Ruskin,
at the two extremes of literary temperament,
both testify to its power. Lincoln, in his most
solemn utterances, quite naturally adopts the
language of the Bible. To quote again :

"Much of the Bible, especially of the Old Testa-
ment, can be described as primitive in thought ;
but only if 'primitive' be taken to mean that such
writings go down to the common roots of all
human nature, and are grounded in feelings and
ideas which are the common heritage of all men,
and w^ich are therefore perennial and universal.
Thus this Biblical literature and this Biblical
style in spite of their foreign origin are in a still
deeper sense native, since their appeal reaches'
down below feelings and instincts which are
peculiar to one age or to one country to those
which belong to all."

Not the least of the contributions of the
Bible to English language and literature, de-
clares Professor Gardiner, is the standard
which it has set for all English writing. "If
the whole range of English prose," he says,
"were figured in the form of an arch, the style
of the Bible would be the keystone; and it
would be there not only because it is the high-
est point and culmination of prose writing, but
also because it binds the whole structure to-
gether." Of the biblical style he writes fur-
ther:

"In setting the English Bible as the measure
of English prose style, one would name as the
general qualities of that style, simplicity and
earnestness. In defining French prose style, one
would think first, perhaps, of lucidity, added to
keenness and subtlety; in defining German prose
style, rather of thoroness and the capacity for
carrying strangely complicated burdens of
thought; but in the case of English prose, since

we have had neither an academy nor a cloistered
body of learned men for whom books have been
chiefly writter if there is to be a standard which
shall be a common measure for Dryden, Swift,
Goldsmith, and Burke, or in our own period for
Macaulay, Newman, Ruskin, Thackeray, and
Lincoln, we must find for that common measure
a style which will be read by all classes of men,
and which will carry the weight of high and
earnest ideas. In France there is a gulf between
literature and the peasants whom Millet painted;
in England, Bunyan's 'Pilgrim's Progress,' one
of the monuments of the literature, was the work
of a tinker ; and one might recall, too, Stevenson's
story of the Welsh blacksmith who learned to
read in order to add 'Robinson Crusoe' to his
possibilities of experience. It is a striking fact
that, as the generations pass by, the books which
are still regularly and constantly reprinted are
those like 'Robinson Crusoe' and 'Gulliver's
Travels' and "The Pilgrim's Progress,' which
appeal not only to a highly educated upper class,
but to the moderately educated middle and lower
classes: in literature, as in everything else in
England and America, the final appeal is to the
broad democracy. In the second place, it is
notable that the books which do survive, at any
rate in the case of prose, — for in the case of
poetry final causes are deeper and more complex,
— are almost all written by men with a purpose,
men who have a mission to make the world
better. There is something in the genius of the
people which brings the language to its noblest
heights when it carries a message that is to lift
the people above themselves ; and something in
the genius of the language which makes it in-
evitable that when the language reaches these
high points it shall show most strongly these two
qualities of simplicity and earnestness.

"With these qualities the style of the Bible is
also notable for directness of statement, which
gives to the style an unsurpassed power of carry-
ing its readers with it ; the books of the Bible are
set forth as statements of facts, never as an
apology or justification of the facts; and the
effect of this confidence is to give to the Bible
a virility and robustness which in themselves
make it a worthy model of a great national
style."

Moreover, since adequate style inevitably
reflects the character of its substance, one can
say, in the language of Professor Gardiner,
that the Bible is "the norm and standard of
our English literature."

"Leaving out of consideration Shakespeare,
whom it is so hard to bring into our generaliza-
tion, one may roughly say that the spirit of English
literature at its best is prophetic, that the essential
characteristics of the books which are the record
of the thoughts and feelings of the English race
are virility, directness, unconsciousness, prepos-
session with the higher sides of life, and a noble
and uplifting purpose. Spenser's 'Faerie Queene'
is a glorification of purity and the virtues of
chivalry; Addison aimed to reform the licentious
manners of his day; the one constant motive of
Swift's morbid genius was to castigate the vices
and follies of men; and Dr. Johnson, the stoutest
Englishman of them all, was a conscious force

RELIGION AND ETHICS

for righteousness. The nineteenth century opened
with the aspiring dreams of Wordsworth, Cole-
ridge and Shelley; and its great prose writers,
Thackeray, Dickens, Carlyle, Emerson, and the
rest, were all consciously preachers. The ideal
of art merely for the sake of beauty has never
taken a deep hold on the men of our race. Keats,
who above all English poets revelled in sheer

beauty and sensuousness of form, is commonly
and naturally thought of as a poet's poet. It
remains true, therefore, in a broad way with the
substance of English literature as with the style,
that the English Bible stands as the norm about
which all the rest can be arranged and as the
standard by which it is not unreasonable to
estimate it."

A LAYMAN'S PLEA FOR BETTER SERMONS

HAT versatile English writer, Mr.
Arthur C. Benson, confesses that
he has always felt a deep sympa-
thy for clergymen who have to
preach two sermons every Sunday. "Con-
ceive of the difficulty of the situation!" he
exclaims. "To address the same people twice
a week on religious subjects for, say, twenty
years! And the difficulty is increased a hun-
dredfold by the fact that if a clergyman makes
his sermons practical, drawing them from his
daily experience, he is sure to be accused of
preaching at some one or other." The truth
is, says Mr. Benson, that to preach effectively
to the same congregation twice a Sunday for
twenty years a man needs to be "a saint and
a man of the world, and a literary man, and
an orator, all in one." He continues (in The
National Review, November) :

"My experience is that the clergy, as a rule
instead of neglecting this branch of work, ex-
pend an almost pathetic amount of trouble on
their discourses, and search very diligently
after impressive, interesting, and lucid ideas.
Of course the net result is often not
very satisfactory, for the simple reason that
the expression of any sort of truth, the
exposition of any subject, is a thing which,
to be effective, needs a personality behind it en-
dowed with a certain kind of charm and force,
which is by no means a common thing. Then,
too, the difficulty is immensely increased by the
character of the congregation. A village con-
gregation consists, perhaps, of a few cultivated
people and a few of some intellectual vigor, but
the majority are neither intellectual nor culti-
vated; there are men, women, and children of all
ages and all temperaments; and how is a man to
find the common denominator for all these?

"Then, too, many clergymen feel bound to de-
vote a good many sermons to doctrinal teaching,
and doctrinal teaching is a very difficult thing.
It is metaphysical, psychological, and moral at
the same time; it deals with subtle mysteries and
remote mental conceptions."

It is easy enough, however, to criticise, as
Mr. Benson admits. The question is whether
any scheme of practical reform can be sug-

gested. Mr. Benson has a number of sug-
gestions to. offer :

"In the first place, I should like to see the
number of parochial sermons halved; one sermon
a Sunday is ample. . . .

"And then, too, I can never understand why
the reading of the discourses of great preachers is
not encouraged. If Robertson, or Newman, or
Kingsley have written persuasively and enthu-
siastically about some point of the Christian life,
why should we not be allowed to listen to their
words, rather than to the words of a tired and
possibly dispirited man who preaches because
he must, and not because he has any very urgent
message to deliver?

"And then, too, I should like a far wider va-
riety of discourses. There is nothing which holds
the attention of old and young alike, as a bio-
graphical lecture ; why are not sermons more bio-
graphical? Why should not one listen to a sim-
ple narrative of the life of some hero or saint?
Why is it justifiable to attempt to spin a sermon
out of the meager and attenuated records of the
life of St. Matthias or St. Jude, and not to
preach about Gordon or Father Damien?

"Then, too, surely the parable, the story, is
sadly neglected. With the example of the Saviour
before us, why may not His disciples make a
simple tale the vehicle of divine teaching? I de-
clare that Hans Andersen's parable of the flax,
or if one must be more historical, the tale of the
Monk Telemachus in the Colosseum, are worth a
hundred expositions of high doctrine. For the
truth is that it is not doctrine that we live by, but
great examples, glowing hopes, simple affections."

Mr. Benson goes on to indicate another,
region in which he thinks more experiments
might be tried. There ought to be more ro-
bust preaching, he intimates, based on per-
ception of human character and dealing with
questions of daily interest. He writes on this
point :

"If there is one subject which attracts hearers,
it is the shrewd delineation of human character.
An observant man, fond of humanity, may find
rich material for perception in the quietest coun-
try parish. But the clergy are far too apt to dwell
upon a conception of Christian meekness and sub-
mi ssiveness, which are not the most attractive
human qualities to the minds of ordinary people;
iJiey uphold the dove-like harmlessness of the

CURRENT LITERATURE

Christian character, rather than its serpentine
wisdom. The morality of the pulpit ought not to
diverge from the morality of ordinary life. If it is
right to be adventurous and bold, if it is right
to be ambitious and popular, if it is right to make
money, to fall in love, to play games, to strive
after equality or supremacy, it is right to preach
about such things. There is a right way and a
wrong way of doing most of them, a Christian
way and an un-Christian way. I would go some
considerable distance to hear a sermon by a
kindly and shrewd old parson, who had lived an
honest and simple life, on making money, or on
falling in love; and the more that sermons deal
with universal experiences, the better for pastor
and flock alike. One does not want sermons to
aim at transporting one into a different region ;
one does not desire to be conducted into the
courts of an imaginary and not very interesting
heaven, so much as to be brought face to face
with the Kingdom of God on earth."

Mr. Benson's article has aroused consider-
able interest and discussion in religious circles.
The Bishop of Bristol, to whom it was sub
mitted, looks with favor on the practice of
reading standard sermons from the pulpit,
and speaks hopefully of "a scheme for issuing
a list of approved modern homilies by well-
known preachers of recent times, to be used
by all deacons till such time as their own

manuscript sermons, sent to their bishop for
criticism, reach a standard which is not un-
fit for public utterance." On the other hand.
The Christian World and Evangelist (New
York) comments :

"In this matter of reading the sermons of others
we may note an experiment that does not
strengthen the Bishop's position. Years ago the pul-
pit of a Unitarian Church on Staten Island was va-
cant, and Mr. George William Curtis volunteered
and read some sermons in the absence of a regular
minister. The reading began ; but fine a reader
as Mr. Curtis was, the congregation soon tired
of the reading and it was discontinued. But un-
questionably inferior preachers are in pulpits to-
day;— what of them?

"Obviously, in the absence of any provision for
retiring them, they must be left to make the best
possible use of their mediocre talents, and often
very good results are seen from such preaching;
Brother Jasper, of Richmond, with his sermon,
'The Sun he do move,' was hardly to be consid-
ered a very intellectual preacher; yet it is the
testimony of those who knew of his church and
his people that his work there brought out good
result : give mediocrity a right setting and it
may show results that higher abilities may not
achieve : needless to say this is no plea for medi-
ocrity or for ignorance. If we are to correct
this evil of inferior sermonizing we must begin
with the young theologue and refuse to graduate
one who gives no promise of usefulness."

WILL THE CRAPSEY VERDICT STRENGTHEN OR
WEAKEN THE CHURCH?

h.jL!^'^:iM. jHE "Anglican Clergyman" who has
lately written to the New York Sun
affirming his conviction that "the de-
cision of the ecclesiastical court
regarding Dr. Crapsey's case will undoubtedly
strengthen the position of the Episcopal
Church in America," comes to a conclusion
that hardly seems warranted by the facts in
this now famous case (see Current Litera-
ture, November, 1905, and June and July,
1906). It is doubtful if any deposed minister
of a Christian church in America has ever had
so many influential friends and supporters
among the members of his own denomination
as Dr. Crapsey has had. The congregation
that he has served in Rochester for twenty-
eight years is said to be almost unanimously
in sympathy with him. The Protestant Epis-
copal organ in New York, The Churchman,
consistently opposed the resort to a "heresy
trial" in his case. During the course of the
trial the Bishop of Michigan, in a convention
address, went out of his way to declare that

he did not believe in "the weapons of excom-
munication or deposition for purely intellec-
tual errors," and an Ohio clergyman, the Rev.
Mr. Cox, addressed an open letter to his
Bishop endorsing all the "heresies" for which
Dr. Crapsey was being called to account. A
number of influential ministers in good stand-
ing in the Protestant Episcopal Church were
summoned to Batavia to express their substan-
tial agreement with Dr. Crapsey's views, but
were not allowed to testify. Edward M. Shep-
ard and James B. Perkins, who argued Dr.
Crapsey's case before the ecclesiastical court,
have made it clear that, not merely in their
professional capacity as lawyers, but as pri-
vate individuals, they stand with the deposed
clergyman. Mr. Shepard, indeed, has shown
an almost fanatical devotion to Dr. Crapsey,
and when Bishop Potter, in an address made
before the announcement of the judicial de-
cision, spoke derogatorily of "those who can
seek the priest's office for a piece of bread,"
and of the baseness of a man who "clings to

RELIGION AND ETHICS

any holy office in which he is not honestly
entitled to that bread," Mr. Shepard hotly
resented the imputation as "false and inde-
cent." And, finally, three of the most promi-
nent laymen of the Protestant Episcopal
Church in New York — Seth Low, Spencer
Trask and George Foster Peabody — have
united in giving moral support to Dr. Crap-
sey's cause.

In his letter to Bishop Walker, of Buffalo,
renouncing his ministry. Dr. Crapsey asserts
that he has reason to know that there are
"hundreds of clergymen and thousands of lay-
men" in the Protestant Episcopal Church
who have reached the same conclusions as he
has. Mr. Shepard thinks that the "relatively
small" and insignificant position of the Prot-
estant Episcopal Church in the United States
must be attributed, in part at least, to the "nar-
row and short-sighted policy" of its leaders.
He writes to the New York Times:

"The only high statistical rank of our Church,
to our grief, is in its wealth. Having, with all its
God-given faculties and beauties, increased
since its organization in the United States 117
years ago, to only nine-tenths of one per cent, of
the population ... its Fathers in God, in-
stead of devoting their energies as sectaries to
deplete it of its men (already too few in number)
of conscience and self-sacrifice and energy and
eloquence, had better take pattern of the rectors
of St. George's past and present, or of the rector
of St. Michael's, New York, or of the rector of
St. Andrew's, Rochester, and remember the ad-
monition that their office is committed to them
'that by their ministry and assiduity the greatest
possible number of men may be joined unto
Christ' "

Both The Independent and The Outlook
have thrown their influence on Dr. Crapsey's
side. "Doubtless these other hundreds of
priests and thousands of laymen who agree
with Dr. Crapsey," remarks the former paper,
"believe that they hold Jesus Christ as Mas-
ter and Lord, and his teachings as the true
basis of the Church as truly as do the mem-
bers of the court which by a majority con-
demned him. Then let it be fought out within
the Church itself. By such conflict of argu-
ment will the truth be reached and in no other
way; and it is the truth and that only that we
want, the truth which each generation must
find for itself." The Outlook says :

"The time is not far distant when the attempt
to conceive of a Church in the Catholic sense of
the word from the legalistic point of view and of
defending its faith by legalistic procedure will be
recognized as an absurdity ; and then, for the first
time, the Church will try the method of leaving
Truth free to fight error and destroy it m the

only way in which error can be overcome and
destroyed; and, above all, while it condemns the
error, it will hold fast to and keep in fellowship
the man who errs."

The New York World takes the view that
"heresy-hunting" is almost invariably detri-
mental to the interests of true religion. It
comments on the present case:

"Denominational discipline has triumphed. But
how has it profited the Episcopal Church? What
does a religious organization ever gain by holding
its clergy to the letter of dogmatic theology under
penalty ? Did the Catholic Church benefit by its
restriction of Father McGlynn or the Presbyterian
Church by the prosecution of Dr. Briggs, of
which Newman Smythe said that 'it was the
Presbyterians, not Dr. Briggs, who were guilty of
"dangerous heresy"?'

"Events have justified Bishop Potter's wiser
course in the charges against Dr. Heber Newton
of leaving that 'heresy' to correct itself. To expel
from the Episcopal communion all who nowadays
subscribe to views deemed dangerous fifteen
years ago would be a formidable undertaking."

On the other hand, the Atlanta Constitution
argues that "if the denominations upon which
millions of people in America depend for spir-
itual inspiration did not purge themselves of
the Crapseys and Coxes, there would even-
tually develop a religious anarchy that would
wreck the happiness of uncounted hosts."
Similarly, the New York Times contends:

"The Protestant Episcopal Church is not a
mere unbased society for ethical culture. Like
every other religious denomination, properly so
called, it is founded on a consensus of" belief
among its members on what may properly be
described as 'dogma, what cannot be properly de-
scribed otherwise. When one of its Presbyters
comes to find its confessions, the authoritative
statements of its belief, incredible ... it is
then not only the right but the duty of those of
his order who take another view to challenge his
interpretation and to bring the case to a judicial
determination."

Not merely church discipline, but the very
preservation of religious principles, in the
opinion of the Protestant Episcopal paper in
Milwaukee, The Living Church, demanded
Dr. Crapsey's deposition. The same paper
comments further:

"The Anglican Communion has been extreme
among Catholic Churches in her leniency with
those who do not wholly affirm her faith. In an
age of intellectual unrest such leniency is com-
monly felt among ourselves to be wise. But the
danger that leniency with men would resolve it-
self into apostasy of the Church has been a very
real one.

"There are limits beyond which leniency can-
not go without at least partial apostasy, and Dr.
Crapsey had very clearly exceeded those limits.
There has been, in his case, no 'heresy hunting.'
He has flaunted his individualistic teachings in

CURRENT LITERATURE

the face of the Church and has challenged the
Church to expel him from the ministry if she saw
fit. He has fought the administration of justice
inch by inch. He has been represented by the
ablest counsel that the country could supply, has
had the benefit of a propaganda of literature at
great expense, has had the sympathy of the whole
school of rationalistic thought within and without
the Church, the support of one of the Church's
weekly journals and of a very influential semi-
religious magazine. He has had a fair trial, in
which, with very inadequate and in some ways
defective machinery, points have been strained to
favor him ; and an absolutely impartial review of
that trial by a court of theologians and jurists,
the intellectual equal of any in this country.
Through it all the Church wins and Dr. Crapsey
loses. The Church is greater than the priest who
preferred his own way to the ways of the
Church."

The Philadelphia Church Standard (Prot-
estant Episcopal) takes the same position:

"We wish it were possible to hope that this
most painful affair would be the last of its kind.
The Church is grieved and wearied with the
scandal of it. She is tauntingly accused of
heresy-hunting, when the fact is that the very
foundations of her faith are assailed by men
who have sworn to teach it in the plain
grammatical and historical sense in which the
Church itself 'has received the same.' We have
said before, and we repeat, that, with the deepest
conviction of the destructive character of those
denials, we regard the immorality of their propa-
gation by men who are under oath to banish and

drive them away as much more reprehensible.
And then we ask, what moral enthusiasm for
Christian faith can there be in any man who
holds and teaches that the very foundations of
religion — not only of the Christian religion, but
of all religion — 'are without ethical value'? Yet
Dr. Crapsey himself is stenographically reported
to have said in a public conference at Rochester
last spring that 'the three dogmas of the existence
of God, the immortality of the soul and the future
accountability of all men are without ethical
value.' Of what use, then, is any religion of any
kind in the forming of human conduct or as an
inspiration of enthusiasm for humanity? Dr.
Crapsey, we are very sure, greatly exaggerates
the extent of his following among the clergy of
the Church ; but he has followers nevertheless
whose defiant proclamations of their unbelief
must necessarily constrain the Church either to
proceed to the most painful of all its duties, or
else practically to sanction the propagation of
apostasy in its own pulpits. That, indeed, is the
course which a recently appointed bishop is said
to have publicly advocated within the last month
in an address to his Diocesan Convention, main-
taining that no intellectual error ought to be re-
garded as a sufficient cause for the removal of a
man from the ministry. We do not discuss that
monstrous deliverance — of a bishop, be it ob-
served— until we shall have an authentic copy of
the address before us. But, unless the Episcopal
Church in the United States is ready and willing
to become an apostate Church, it is very clear
that it must accept the painful alternative of re-
quiring apostate ministers of any and every rank
and degree to propagate their infidelity else-
where."

THE PURSUIT OF PAIN

HERE is a common impression that
the desire for happiness is universal,
innate and unconquerable. Even
psychologists sometimes overlook
the fact that there is another pursuit as primi-
tive and as ineradicable as the pursuit of
pleasure — namely, the pursuit of pain. Miss
Constance Clyde, who calls attention to this
fact in a suggestive article in The Independent
Review (London, November), goes on to say:

"It is strange that this truth should be ignored
by those who know that in the New World, as
in the Old, the most virile of savage races have
felt this necessity, the wild Indian youth seek-
ing visions through starvation as naturally as
any brain-sick hermit of medieval times. No
pilgrimages for pleasure have ever equaled in
extent of duration the many and marvelous pil-
grimages for pain, and though it is customary to
speak of certain nations as having been sunk in
debauchery and physical ease, it needs but little

knowledge to perceive that in such historic in-
stances it was but one class, falsely represented
as the nation, that so degraded itself; whereas,
from the Spartans of ancient days to the Zulus
of to-day, there have been many instances of
countries maintaining for generations an ideal
of conduct that was essentially that of the ascetic
— a dread of ease and pleasure never losing its
hold. From the beginning of time Man has not
only borne the sufferings that Ignorance or
Nature created; he has clung to them. He has
not regarded them with secret impatience and
flung them off when able to do so; he has held
them long after the remedy was within his
reach, and has persecuted those that oflfered the
remedy."

Not only does each age see the need of
penance, continues Miss Clyde; "each age is
instinctively able to choose, almost autoftiati-
cally, the type of penance which it individually
requires, harm ensuing only when through
habit it retains a form of suflFering coarser

RELIGION AND ETHICS

tlian the spirit of the time necessitates." She
illustrates :

"Thus the Japanese, artistic, temperate, gay,
qualify their delicate joy in life by an ideal which
enjoins them to quit it for a punctilio, without
the coarse counter satisfaction that is the spirit
of our one-time duel. Our English ancestors
again qualified their robust and healthy animal-
ism with an ideal of Feebleness and Disease so
powerful that, through its influence, plagues were
encouraged, and anesthetics, up to modern days,
regarded with disfavor, it being only one fact
among many that a cure for small-pox, springing
up in Edward the First's reign, was forced to
lie dormant for centuries till the people's hold
upon their misery was released. Thus we under-
stand why the Hindu fanatic, hating the English
soldier who puts down sutteeism by force, should
equally hate the English savant who proves from
his own books that sutteeism is not an integral
part of the Hindu creed. We understand it, that
is to say, when we realize that the penance is not
something imposed on us by a religion; it is not
even something necessarily increased by a reli-
gion ; it is a deep-seated need that expresses
itself by way of dogma, but which must find an
outlet in rational ages, as well as in those more
obviously superstitious."

If this ideal has been lost, says Miss Clyde,
it is not because our age is more rationalistic,
but because our lesser robustness does not
require this remedy; our search for a penance
has gone in another direction. Nowadays,
"our ideal is no longer the world a hospital,
but the world a workhouse. It is the indus-
trial struggle that we now guard with rever-
ential formulae, the pilgrimage for work hav-
ing acquired the sanctity formerly given the
pilgrimage of pain." To quote further:

"The commonly accepted notion regarding this
struggle as being essential to a strong national
character has just as much superstition in it
as the ancient respect formerly accorded to
what Oliver Wendell Holmes terms the tuber-
culous virtues; it is no less superstition because
in the one case as in the other there is con-
siderable truth. Our error lies in the assump-
tion (again with the one as with the other)
that if this special penance were removed,
the age would not immediately, and almost me-
chanically, evolve another, perhaps of a better
type, to take its place. We know that the truly
religious medieval mmd could not have realized
that a people could remain virtuous if altogether
healthy, and we remember how the convulsion-
ists of Cevennes, removing to England, con-
sidered that goodness had departed from them
because, as a result of the change of air, they
no longer suflfered from epileptic fits. Similarly
the thinker of to-day cannot picture a nation
continuing strong and enterprising, with the fear
of want and destitution altogether legislated
away. It was not understood by the one, as it
is not comprehended by the other, that human
nature requires a penance but not necessarily this
penance, that it may safely be rescued from suf-
fering just because it cannot cease to suffer.

that as one form of pain is removed, it will
swiftly and healthfully reach out for another."

Idealist pictures of a perfect social state
have been mostly "valueless and without
human interest," in Miss Clyde's opinion,
just because they have ignored "that instinct
(possessed by the veriest savage) which quali-
fies ease by some organized suffering. Our
modern Utopias, our 'Looking Backwards,'"
she says, "and the much superior works that
have followed them, show us a people
happy to be happy, asceticism, the earliest
instinct of humanity, altogether perished!"
She continues:

"We wander through these hygienic streets,
among these quietly cheerful people, and we see no
sign of the dark and painful something that must be
behind all this — the originators of these fanciful
Paradises actually putting forward, as a proof
of their success, that there is no such dark and
painful thing behind. Perhaps Mr. H. G. Wells
has come nearest to a conception of this need,
when he pictures his Samurai mildly ascetic,
and bound likewise to spend seven days a year
in the utter silence of the wilderness, though this
rule to be effective would need to apply to the
whole nation, and to be compulsory by some form
of public opinion equal in actual power to that
of a law."

There is nothing really fantastic, asserts
Miss Clyde, in this notion of a state-ordained
penance when we remember the position of
the medieval church in this respect, or with
what satisfaction the people welcomed this
guidance of their ascetic energies. She says
in concluding:

"It may be that a future age may see its need
in this respect even more clearly, and be capable
of gratifying it without the husk of religious for-
mulae, even as we obey certain hygienic rules
without requiring to be assured, as was the case
in Mosaic days, that these are pleasing to the
Almighty. Thus wandering through a genuine
Utopia of the To Be one might notice certain
specially laborious or dreary forms of mining or
factory work to which every citizen at periods
would resort, less for the material good of the
nation than for his own ethical needs. In this
the individual would acquiesce as naturally as he
now does — save when it is too prolonged — in in-
dustrial suffering — that is to say, he would
acquiesce, not quite comprehending the rights of
it, yet instinctively obeying a law which coin-
cides with his own deep-seated instinct. The
State itself will have taken a new departure,
realizing the concentrative and dynamic force
of asceticism and yet never forgetting how much
that valuable force was wasted and rendered in-
jurious when running at will through uncon-
trolled channels. In those days the wise men of
the race will act not as originators but as regu-
lators, learning to know the national psychologi-
cal moment when penance is to be modified or
changed."

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE REAL NATURE OF FRENCH NEO-CATHOLICISM

NE of the immediate results of the
Separation of Church and State in
France has been the remarkable
growth of a movement for the ex-
tension of the power and privileges of the
laity within the Roman Catholic Church. In
the opinion of Gabriel Hanotaux, member of
the French Academy and ex-Minister of For-
eign Affairs, this "Neo-Catholic" movement
has a great future before it. "Not merely the
destinies of a narrow school are at stake," he
says, writing in the Paris Journal; "the whole
world is giving way, the soul of the masses
is stirred." He continues :

"The introduction of the laical element and of
the laical spirit into the government of the
Church is a necessity which must be submitted
to sooner or later. The famous saying, 'Democ-
racy is not receiving its share,' is applicable here.
Democracy will penetrate, in fact it has pene-
trated already, to the very doors of the sanctuary.
In Italy, in Germany, in America, it has forced
recognition. It is backed by numbers, by money
by public opinion ; it bases its claims upon science,
reason, liberty. Think you that these are illusory
forces and negligible quantities?''

Apropos of this declaration of M. Hano-
taux, Jean de Bonnefon, a well-known ecclesi-
astical specialist whose impartiality is gener-
ally conceded, gives in a later number of the
same paper a clear and concise statement of
the origin and the program of Neo-Catholi-
cism. He says:

"The Neo-Catholics are the disciples of the
Roman Church who desire to procure for the
laity a share in the management of the Church.
They aspire, in collaboration with the clergy, the
bishops, and the Pope, to control and direct the
churches. They claim the place which the State
— the great layman — held under the Concordat.

"Under the regime of Separation, the Roman
Church becomes again a complete social organ-
ism, assuming a character of which it was robbed
by the interference of the State in the adminis-
tration of the cult. The clergy as a body of
functionaries were without the independence
necessary to participation with the Pope in the
great deliberations upon the affairs of the Church
Universal. The laity, being no longer obliged
to support the priests, had delegated their ancient
rights to the State, which alone represented the
laical element and which played the role of the
faithful in the choice and support of shepherds.

"The laity now desire, inasmuch as Separation
puts upon their shoulders the entire burden of
the maintenance of worship, to resume their an-
cient role. Now that they must feed the bishops
and the priests and build and adorn the places
of worship, they desire to participate with the
Pope in the nomination of the bishops and the
priests. ...

"The Neo-Catholics are trying to restore to

Catholicism its ancient form and to replace the
absolute monarchy of the modern Popes by the
fraternal republic of the primitive Church."

The Church has not always been a mon-
archical body, as M. Bonnefon reminds us. In
the beginning it proclaimed the equality of all
its members, and the right of "the faithful"
to vote was maintained up to the day when,
in the Concordats, the King substituted him-
self for the laity and the Pope substituted him-
self for the Councils. The provisional exer-
cise of certain priestly functions by pious lay-
men has always been permitted. Any one may
administer the sacrament of baptism in an
urgent case. Women are allowed to teach
the catechism in regions where the number
of priests is insufficient. "But these," re-
marks M. Bonnefon, "are exceptions which
recall the ancient rights of the laity only as a
bit of moss-covered stone recalls the existence
of an ancient castle." He goes on to say :

"Little by little, 'the faithful' have lost all their
rights. They were electors of the priests, of the
bishops, of the popes. They were, later, members
with a consultative voice only, of the electoral
assemblies. Then the assemblies were sup-
pressed. The clergy gradually met the same fate
as 'the faithful.' The power was monopolized by
the Councils up to the moment when the popes
suppressed the Councils and became the absolute
sovereigns. The last Council (that of the Vati-
can) was convened by Pius IX only that it
might commit suicide and pronounce the infalli-
bility, the divinity of the Papacy.

"The infallible is not to be reasoned with: it
is to be bowed down to and adored. Of what
use are elections, assemblies, deliberations, when
a single man is proclaimed the depository of the
absolute truth ?

"It is against this theory that Neo-Catholicism
is protesting timidly, with all the reserves and
all the formulas of submission commanded by
the Faith."

The entire program of the Neo-Catholic
party is summed lip by M. Bonnefon in four
phrases :

"A return to the rules of the primitive Church.

"Consultation between the laity and the Church
authorities regarding the temporal affairs of the
Church — equivalent to giving the laity the place
which the State held under the regime of the
Concordat.

"Restoration of the principle of the election of
those who are to exercise ecclesiastical functions.

"A closer union between the people and the
democratized Church."

M. de Bonnefon adds this further historical
explanation of the real significance of the
program :

RELIGION AND ETHICS

"The Neo-Catholics of France recall with pride
that the French clergy (the most important of the
Catholic clergies) were never stronger than at
the time when the General Assemblies of the
clergy were all that survived the ruin of the
'Etats Generaux,' when the communal life was
concentrated in the assemblies of the parishes,
when the Treasury of the Church of France, bet-
ter administered than the public Treasury by
elected agents, paid the king an annual subvention
of three millions and was the creditor of the State
to the amount of one hundred and forty millions.

"This was the case on the eve of the Revolu-
tion.

"The Neo-Catholics desire to utilize again for
their own benefit — for the benefit of the church
that is — this incomparable mechanism."

The Neo-Catholic program may serve to re-
call the fact that the Church was a pioneer in
many methods now employed in civil life;
that its Councils were the models for Peace
Congresses, that its parish assemblies have
been copied by the municipal councils, that the
procedure of parliaments originated in the
general assemblies of the French clergy, that
the device of competitive examination func-
tioned for Church livings before it functioned

for the civil service, and that old-age pensions
were inscribed in the canonical law eight hun-
dred years before they appeared in the civil
code. Mr. Bonnefon concludes :

"The Neo-Catholics note the disappearance of
all these splendors under the regime of the Con-
cordat, and maintain that the Church, now that
it is separated from the State, can resume its
august functions. . . .

"The Church of France was yesterday a minor
under the tutelage of the State and of the Holy
See. The Neo-Catholics would take advantage
of the Separation to proclaim that this same
Church has attained its majority and should be
henceforth under the direction of 'the faithful'
and of the priests.

"The Papacy has not admitted, in theory, the
right of the laity to intervene in this fashion.
Will it admit it, in practice, by necessity, now
that it depends on the laity for its subsistence ?"

M. de Bonnefon answers his own question
in the negative. Others, like M. Hanotaux,
equally well informed, answer it in the affirma-
tive. Either way, the future religious life of
France would seem destined to be radically
difiFerent from that of its immediate past.

THE MORAL VALUE OF ATHLETICS

THLETIC games ought to improve
the wholesomeness and effective-
-| ness of both the mental and physical
powers of man. As a matter of fact,
says Dr. W. R. C. Latson, a writer in the
December Outing, they have often "done as
much harm as good" — and this because of the
spirit of brutal competition and the tendency
to physical overstrain that seem inseparable
from present-day sport. And yet, he com-
tinues, in the broadest moral sense, the effect
of athletics is distinctly beneficial.

"Athletic games tend to develop some of the
most admirable qualities of heart and mind which
can be found in the human being. In the life of
every day, in the struggle for place and power, in
the effort to uplift our fellowmen by teaching or
writing or by example — in all these activities
there are certain qualities which are essential to
success and power. The man who would be or
do anything significant in the world must have
physical power, endurance and control ; he must
possess courage and concentration, aggressive-
ness; he must have clear conceptions, quick judg-
ment and decisiveness ; he must, last of all, have
the power of sacrificing himself for the good of
his fellows.

"Now, I have no hesitation in claiming that all
these characteristics of body and mind are devel-
oped by the proper practice of athletic games."

No moral quality, asserts Dr. Latson, is
more important in the battle of life than will-

power. "If we glance over the epoch-makers
of life — the men whose names stand out upon
the scroll of history, Caesar, Savonarola, Na-
poleon, Luther, Cromwell, Bismarck, Wash-
ington, Jackson — we shall find that their most
marked characteristic was will-power, the de-
termination to do something no matter what
the consequences." Now, will-power is largely
a matter of habit. A man who says: "I am
going to break down that guard no matter
what the consequences — even if I break my
collar-bone, my arm, my leg, or lose my life,"
is the kind of man who will be fearless in
battle and forceful in any other exigency of
life. As a means of developing will-power,
argues Dr. Latson, there is probably nothing
in the world to excel football.

"Other games are close seconds, but better than
all these stands football as a means of developing
aggressiveness, courage, will. Other athletic
games have something of the same effect in train-
ing character. The man who catches off the bat,
knowing that a mis judgment of an inch or two
may mean disfigurement for life; the man who
pushes his horse at the five-bar gate, realizing that
a fall will probably mean injury or destruction;
the man who, in boxing, risks the blow that is
going to mejm defeat and dangerous injury; the
man who drives his automobile at the rate of two
miles a minute, knowing that a slight failure in
his self-control or a slight inequality in the road,

CURRENT LITERATURE

will mean to him death and defeat — all these are
developing that faculty which means power: all
these are developing m themselves courage and
will-power. And courage, backed by will, is the
prime secret of conquest in this constant struggle
which we call life."

Since courage, as defined by Dr. Latson, is
"nothing more nor less than an exhibition of
will-power," it follows that "all those games
and sports which develop will-power inevitably
develop courage at the same time." To quote
again :

"Perhaps no more striking exhibition of cour-
age is ever shown in any human activity than that
displayed by the boxer, who faces in the ring an
adversary at least his equal, and perhaps his
superior, in the pugilistic struggle. The moral
qualities exhibited by the boxers in an actual
knock-out ring fight of, say, twenty rounds, is one
of the most notable examples of moral power
which could be mentioned. Each of the contest-
ants is in danger not only of physical injury,
which is to him a trifle, but dishonor, loss of pres-
tige and injury to those bettors who have risked
their money on him and who, through the slight-
est carelessness or failure on his part, may lose
their money.

"Boxing is an exercise which is not only of the
most marked benefit in a purely physical way, but
it is of the utmost value as a means of training
the mental and moral faculties. One of the rnost
unfortunate whimsicalities of our very whimsical
day is the prejudice against boxing as a sport and
exercise. There is no sport in which there is pro-
vided such splendid exercise for body and mind
and spirit as in boxing."

Baseball is also highly praised by Dr. Lat-
son as a sport which awakens and develops
estimable qualities in man's character. "I can-

not think of any position in athletics,*^ he says,
"where a man would have to exercise so much
judgment, imagination, perception, insight,
self-control, self-confidence and will, as in the
pitcher's box during a game between expert
players" and "few positions in life are of more
value as a means of moral, mental and physical
training than that of the catcher behind the
bat." In fact, he adds:

"I do not hesitate to say that the man who is
a thoroughly good catcher or an expert pitcher —
the man who has worked his way to the top on
the 'varsity nine, the National or the League
team, has developed powers which will insure him
success in any walk of life in which he chooses to
earnestly apply himself."

In two concluding paragraphs. Dr. Latson
balances the deleterious and beneficial effects
of athletics as follows:

"The practice of athletics is not entirely and
altogether beneficial to the young man who en-
gages in it. Harm is often done. Physical strain
leading to disease and weakness in later life; di-
vergence of the young man's energies from more
important matters; the encouragement of aggres-
siveness, brutality and the spirit of self-advance-
ment— these are frequent results of athletic prac-
tice.

"On the other hand, however, the good effects
of athletics probably more than outpoint the bad.
Courage gained through boxing, football, baseball,
high diving, automobiling; perception, judgment,
aggressiveness, learned in the same schools ; al-
truism through team work; discretion and obe-
dience— all these are valuable in the practical
hurly-burly of every-day life, and all these are
part of the general moral eflfects of athletics."

A PLEA FOR ENTHUSIASTIC LIVING

3ICT0R CHERBULIEZ, the French
) novelist, has put into the mouth of
one of his characters the sentiment:
"My son, we should lay up a stock
of absurd enthusiasms in our youth, or else
we shall reach the end of our journey with
an empty heart, for we lose a great many of
them by the way." This saying serves as the
text for a brochure* in which President David
Starr Jordan, of Stanford University, appeals
for a greater enthusiasm in living, and ex-
horts us all "to do things because we love
them, to love things because we do them, to
keep the eyes open, the heart warm and the
pulses swift, as we move across the field of
life." He aptly quotes Stevenson's recipe for

'Life's Enthusiasms. By David Starr Jordan, President
of Leland Stanford Junior University. American Uni-
tarian Association, Boston.

joyousness, "To take the old world by the
hand and frolic with it;" and adds:

"Old as the world is, let it be always new to us
as we are new to it. Let it be every morning
made afresh by Him who 'instantly and con-
stantly reneweth the work of creation.' Let 'the
bit of green sod under your feet be the sweetest
to you in this world, in any world.' Half the joy
of life is in little things taken on the run. Let us
run if we must — even the sands do that — but let
us keep our hearts young and our eyes open that
nothing worth our while shall escape us. And
everything is worth our while, if we only grasp it
and its significance. As we grow older it becomes
harder to do this. A grown man sees nothing he
was not ready to see in his youth. So long as en-
thusiasm lasts, so long is youth still with us."

President Jordan goes on to speak of the
potentialities of his own profession. "Plodding
and prodding," he remarks, "is not the teach-
er's work. It is inspiration, on-leading, the

RELIGION AND ETHICS

flashing of enthusiasms." The true teacher
must become a master of the art of living, as
well as of the arts and sciences, and he will
send his students to learn their lessons among
their own fellows. To quote again :

"The very humanity of men at large is in it-
self a source of inspiration. Study men on the
trains, at the ferry, on the road, in the jungles of
the forest or in the jungles of great cities, —
'through the ages, every human heart is human.'
Look for the best, and the best shall rise up al-
ways to reward you. One who has traveled
among simple-living people, men and women we
call savages, because they live in the woods and
not in cleared land or cities, will bear witness that
a savage may be a perfect gentleman. Now as
I write their faces rise before me. Joyous, free
limbed, white toothed swimmers in Samoan surf,
a Hawaiian eel-catcher, a Mexican peon with his
'sombrero trailing in the dust,' a deferential Japa-
nese farm boy anticipating your every want, a
sturdy Chinaman without grace and without sen-
sitiveness, but with the saving quality of loyalty
to his own word, herdsmen of the Pennine Alps,
Aleuts, Indians and Negroes, each race has its
noblemen and through these humanity is enno-
bled. It is worth while to go far from Boston to
find that such things are true."

The man who loves and honors nature can
hardly fail to be a devotee of the life enthusias-
tic. Such a one has always a source of "sav-
ing grace" on which he can draw, and treasures
of experience that are real and his very own.
As President Jordan eloquently says :

"The song of birds, the swarming of bees, the
meadow carpeted with flowers, the first pink har-
bingers of the early spring, the rush of the water-
fall, the piling up of the rocks, the trail through
the forest, the sweep of the surf, the darting of
the fishes, the drifting of the snow, the white
crystals of the frost, the shrieking of the ice, the
boom of the bittern, the barking of the sea lions,
the honk of the wild geese, the skulking coyote
who knows that each beast is his enemy and has
not even a flea to help him 'forget that he is a
dog,' the leap of the salmon, the ecstacy of the
mocking-bird and bobolink, the nesting of the
field-mice, the chatter of the squirrel, the gray
lichen of the oak, the green moss on the log, the
poppies of the field and the Mariposa lilies of the
cliff — all these and ten thousand more pictures
which could be called up equally at random and
from every foot of land on the globe — all these
are objects of nature. All these represent a point
of human contact and the reaction which makes
for youth, for virtue and for enthusiasm."

And then there are poetry, and prose, and
music, and painting, and sculpture — all ready
to yield us not merely professional satisfaction,
but "the strength that comes from higher liv-
ing and more lofty feeling," if only we ap-
proach them in the right spirit. In the study
of history and biography, too, we can find the
stimulus to enthusiastic living. History is
more than its incidents, as President Jordan

points out. It is the movement of man. More-
over:

"It is the movement of individual men, and it
is in giving illumination to personal and racial
characters that the succession of incidents has its
value. The picturesque individual, the man who
could not be counted with the mass, the David,
the Christ, the Brutus, the Caesar, the Plato, the
Alfred, the Charlemagne, the Cromwell, the Mira-
beau, the Luther, the Darwin, the Helmholtz, the
Goethe, the Franklin, the Hampden, the Lincoln,
all these give inspiration to history. It is well
that we should know them, should know them all,
should know them well — an education is incom-
plete that is not built about a Pantheon, dedi-
cated to the worship of great men."

The study of history in this spirit is sure to
lead to "that feeling of dedication to the high-
est purposes which is the essential feature of
religion." According to President Jordan's
view, religion should be known by its toler-
ance, its broadmindedness, its faith in God and
humanity, its recognition of the duty of ac-
tion. And "action should be imderstood in a
large way, as the taking of one's part in affairs
worth doing, not as rnere activity, nor prom-
ises, nor movement for movement's sake, like
that of 'ants on whom pepper is sprinkled.' "
President Jordan concludes :

"As the lesser enthusiasms fade and fail, one
should take a stronger hold on the higher ones.
'Grizzling hair the brain doth clear,' and one sees
in better perspective the things that need doing.
It is thus possible to grow old as a 'grand old
man,' a phrase invented for Gladstone, but which
fits just as well our own Mark Twain. Grand old
men are those who have been grand young men,
and carry still a young heart beneath old shoul-
ders. There are plenty of such in our country to-
day, though the average man begins to give up
the struggle for the higher life at forty. Presi-
dent White, President Eliot, President Angell, —
few men have left so deep an impression on the
Twentieth Century. Edward Everett Hale, the
teacher who has shown us what it is to have a
country. Senator Hoar, Professor Agassiz, Pro-
fessor Le Conte, Professor Shaler, — all these,
whatever the weight of years, remained young
men to the last. When Agassiz died, the Harvard
students 'laid a wreath of laurel on his bier and
their manly voices sang a requiem, for he had
been a student all his life long, and when he died
he was younger than any of them.' Jefferson was
in the seventies when he turned back to his early
ambition, the foundation of the University of
Virginia. The mother of Stanford University
was older than Jefferson before she laid down the
great work of her life as completed. When the
heart is full, it shows itself in action as well as in
speech. When the heart is empty, then life is no
longer worth while. The days pass and there is
no pleasure in them. Let us then fill our souls
with noble ideals of knowledge, of art, of action.
'Let us lay up a stock of enthusiasms in our
youth, lest we reach the end of our journey with
an empty heart, for we lose many of them by the
way.' "

Science and Discovery

RESULTS OF A CONFIDENTIAL CENSUS OF RACE

SUICIDE

TATISTICAL evidence points un-
mistakably to the existence of a
volitional regulation of the mar-
riage state that is practically ubi-
quitous. But the eminent English sociologist,
Sidney Webb, recently undertook a confiden-
tial census, as he calls it, in order to make
the data scientific. The procedure adopted
was to have blanks filled out by a sufficiently
large number of married people who could
be relied upon to give frank and truthful
answers to a detailed interrogatory. For
this information resort was had to between
six hundred and seven hundred persons from
whom there were reasons to believe answers
would be forthcoming. About half of these
persons reside in the metropolitan area of
London, the remainder being scattered over
the rest of Great Britain. In social grade
they included a most varied selection of oc-
cupations, extending from the skilled workman
to the professional man and the small prop-
erty owner, omitting, on the one hand, the
great army of uneducated laborers and on
the other hand, with few exceptions, the tiny
fraction of the population with incomes from
investments exceeding five thousand dollars a
year.

The individuals enumerated in this census
of race suicide were selected without the
slightest reference to the subject of the in-
quiry. So little indeed was known about
them from this standpoint that about twenty
per cent, of them proved to be unmarried
and thus unable to bear testimony. They were
invited to give the information desired without
revealing their identity. The blank to be
filled up was so arranged that figures and
crosses sufficed for the purposes of the cen-
sus. Each individual enumerated was asked
if married or not. There was a space to in-
dicate sex, age last birthday, date of mar-
riage, age of husband at marriage, age of
wife at marriage, and particulars of children
born. Next the three following searching in-
terrogatories were put:

"Do you expect to have any more (or any)
children?

"In your marriage Have any steps been taken
to render it childless or to limit the number of
children born?

"If yes, during what years have such steps
been taken?

"Has there been any exceptional cause (such
as the death or serious illness of husband or
wife) tending to the limitation of the number of
your children? (If possible, state the cause.)"

Altogether, 634 blanks were sent out to be
filled up. From these there have to be de-
ducted for one reason or another 158 — name-
ly, 114 bachelors, 30 duplicates (wives of hus-
bands making returns), five which failed of
delivery through the mails, two refusals, five
returned blank or incomprehensible and two
relating to marriages abroad. Of the 476 re-
maining, 174 did not reply. Whether these
should be added to the number of those can-
didly confessing to have taken steps to regu-
late the births in their families, or to those
who had taken no such steps, or in what pro-
portion they should be distributed between
the two, the reader must judge for himself.
Significant replies were received from 302
persons. But as 14 of the returns included
particulars of two marriages, the total num-
ber of marriages of which particulars are re-
corded is 316. In six cases the papers con-
tain references to second marriages of which
insufficient particulars are given. These will
not, however, materially affect the results.
What is recorded here is the result of 316
marriages and concerns 618 parents — not, of
course, an adequate sample of the people of
Great Britain but, being drawn from all parts
of the country and from every section of the
"middle" class, sufficient, perhaps, until more
adequate testimony can be obtained, to throw
some light on all previous statistics indirectly
accumulated on this momentous subject.

In order to avoid clumsy sentences, the
term "limited" marriage will be used to sig-
nify a marriage in which the family is in-
tentionally limited, and the term "unlimited"
marriage one in which it has not been so
limited. Of the 316 marriages, 74 are re-
turned as unlimited and 242 as limited. But
in order to ascertain the real prevalence of
voluntary limitation as affecting population.

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

certain deductions should be made. Mar-
riages prior to 1875 ^^Y fairly be taken out,
since the decline of the general birth rate
only began after that date. This eliminates
six limited and 17 unlimited marriages, leav-
ing 236 limited and 57 unlimited. Again, a
usual commencement of limitation appears to
be after the birth of at least two children.
Marriages contracted in 1903, 1904 and 1905
should, therefore, be deducted. This leaves
212 limited and 41 unlimited for the period
1875 to 1902, both years included, and in-
cluding also four marriages the dates of
which were not reported, but which almost
certainly fall within the period named. But
it must be further noted that no less than 13
of the 41 unlimited marriages were childless
and therefore no occasion for limitation
arose, unless the parents had desired a child-
less marriage. This reduces the number of
fertile and unlimited marriages during the
period 1875 to 1902 to 28 out of 252 or, if
the infertile, unlimited marriages be deducted,

239-

If we take the decade 1890-99, which may
be regarded as the typical period, we find
that out of 120 marriages, 107 are limited
and 13 unlimited, whilst of these 13, five
and possibly six were childless at the date of
the return. In this decade, therefore, only
seven or possibly eight unlimited fertile mar-
riages are reported out of a total of 120.

Taking all limited marriages, we may next
ascertain what is the probable total of in-
tended fertility. We find that the 242 marriages
in this classification have yielded or are in-
tended to yield a total of 619 children and an
average of 2.56 children per marriage.

If we take the typical decade 1890-99 we
find that the offspring of each limited mar-
riage is precisely one and a half children per
marriage. The number of children to be ex-
pected from each marriage in England
twenty-five years ago was at least three times
as great.

Taking all the limited marriages we find
that the causes specified by the parents for
limiting the number of their children indi-
cated as follows:

CAUSES OF LIMITATION.

Economic 38

Sexual ill health 13

Other ill health or heredity 19

Disinclination of wife 9

Death of wife 6

Not stated 114

Several causes 43

242

The death of a parent, of course, is a cause
of limitation in another sense from that else-
where employed in this study. Analyzing these
last again, we find the following causes as-
signed :

Economic . .' 35 out of 43

Sexual ill health 11 " 43

Other ill health or heredity 19 " 43

Disinclination of wife 15 " 43

Death of parent 2 " 43

Other causes 5 " 43

We find, thus, that out of the 128 marriages
in which the cause of limitation is stated, the
poverty of the parents in relation to their
standard of comfort is a factor in 73 cases,
sexual ill health (that is, generally, the dis-
turbing effect of child-bearing) in 24 and the
other ill health of the parents in 38 cases. In
24 cases, again, the disinclination of the wife
is a factor, and the death of a parent has in
eight cases terminated a marriage. Summing
up in The Popular Science Monthly, Mr. Sid-
ney Webb says of the inferences to be drawn
from what is the most remarkable census ever
undertaken :

"After a quarter of a century of this practice
(race suicide), the total number of children born
annually in Great Britain is less than four-fifths
of what it would be if no such interference had
taken place. Nor is the practice confined to
Great Britain. The statistics indicate that New
South Wales and Victoria have already carried
it further than we in England have, whilst New
Zealand is not far behind. Registration in the
United States is very imperfect, but it is clear
that the American-born inhabitants of New Eng-
land and perhaps throughout the whole of the
northern states are rapidly following suit. The
same phenomenon is clearly to be traced in the
German Empire, especially in Saxony, Hamburg
and Berlin, but the German rural districts are
as yet unaffected. The Roman Catholic popula-
tion of Ireland (and of the British cities) as well
as those of Canada and Austria appear to be
still almost untouched, but those of Belgium, Ba-
varia and Italy are beginning to follow in the
footsteps of France. The fact that almost every
country which has accurate registration is show-
ing a declining birthrate indicates — ^though, of
course, it does not prove — that the practice is
becoming ubiquitous.

"These clearly proved facts — which we are
bound to face whether we like them or not — will
appear in different lights to different people. In
some quarters it seems to be considered sufficient
to dismiss them with moral indignation, real or
simulated. Such a judgment appears to the pres-
ent writer both irrelevant and futile. It is im-
possible, as Burke has taught us, to draw an in-
dictment against a whole nation. If a course
of conduct is habitually and deliberately pursued
by vast multitudes of otherwise well-conducted
people, forming probably a majority of the whole
educated class of the nation, we must assume that

CURRENT LITERATURE

it does not conflict with their actual code of mor-
ality. They may be intellectually mistaken, but
they are not doing what they feel to be wrong.
Assuming, as I think we may, that no injury to
physical health is necessarily involved — aware, on
the contrary, that the result is to spare the wife
from an onerous and even dangerous illness, for
which in the vast majority of homes no adequate
provision in the way of medical attendance, nurs-
ing, privacy, rest and freedom from worry can
possibly be made — it is, to say the least of it, dif-
ficult on any rationalist morality to formulate any
blame of a married couple for the deliberate regu-
lation of their family according to their means
and opportunities. Apart from some mystic idea
of marriage as a 'sacrament,' or, at any rate, as
a divinely instituted relation with peculiar re-
ligious obligations for which utilitarian reasons
can not be given, it does not seem easy to argue
that prudent regulation differs essentially from
deliberate celibacy from prudential motives. If,
as we have for generations been taught by the
economists, it is one of the primary obligations
of the individual to maintain himself and his
family in accordance with his social position and,
if possible, to improve that position, the deliberate
restriction of his responsibihties within the means
which he has of fulfilling them can hardly be
counted otherwise than as for righteousness.
And when we pass from obligations of the 'self-
regarding' class to the wider conception of duty
to the community, the ground for blame is, to
the ordinary citizen, no more clear. A generation
ago, the economists, and, still more, the 'enlight-
ened public opinion' that caught up their words,
would have seen in this progressive limitation of
population, whether or not it had their approval,
the compensating advantage of an uplifting of
the economic conditions of the lowest grade of
laborers. At any rate, it would have been said,
the poorest will thereby be saved from starvation
and famine. To those who still believe in the
political economy of Ricardo, Nassau Senior,
Cairnes and Fawcett — to those, in fact, who still
adhere to an industrial system based exclusively
on the pecuniary self-interest of the individual

and on unshackled freedom of competition— this
reasoning must appear as valid to-day as it did
a generation ago.

"To the present writer the situation appears in
a graver light. More accurate knowledge of
economic processes denies to this generation the
consolation which the 'early Victorian' econo-
mists found in the limitation of population. No
such limitation of numbers prevents the lowest
grade of workers, if exposed to unfettered indi-
vidual competition, from the horrors of 'sweat-
ing' or the terrors of prolonged lack of employ-
ment. On the other hand, with factory acts and
trade union 'collective bargaining' maintaining a
deliberately fixed national minimum, the limita-
tion of numbers, however prudent it may be in
individual instances, is, from the national stand-
point, seen to be economically as unnecessary as
it is proved to be futile even for the purposes for
which McCulloch and Mill, Cairnes and Fawcett
so ardently desired it.

"Nor can we look forward, even if we wished
to do so, to the vacuum remaining unfilled. It
is, as all experience proves, impossible to exclude
the alien immigrant. Moreover, there are in
Great Britain, as in all other countries, a sufficient
number of persons to whom the prudential con-
siderations affecting the others will not appeal, or
will appeal less strongly. In Great Britain at
this moment, when half, or perhaps two-thirds, of
all the married people are regulating their fam-
ilies, children are being freely born to the Irish
Roman Catholics and the Polish Russian and
German Jews, on the one hand, and to the thrift-
less and irresponsible — largely the casual laborers
and the other denizens of the one-roomed tene-
ments of our great cities — on the other. This
particular 25 per cent, of our population, as Pro-
fessor Karl Pearson keeps warning us, is pro-
ducing so per cent, of our children. This can
hardly result in anything but national deteriora-
tion; or, as an alternative, in this country gradu-
ally falling to the Irish and the Jews. Finally,
there are signs that even these races are becom-
ing influenced. The ultimate future of these
islands may be to the Chinese."

HOW THE TRIGGER OF THE WEATHER IS PULLED

GUN may be charged v^^ith powder
and remain for years perfectly at
rest until a touch on the trigger
explodes the powder w^ith tremen-
dous effect. The example, observes that able
student of physics, Mr. George lies, is in all
respects typical. Nature and art abound in in-
stances of a little energy rightly directed,
controlling energy vastly greater in quantity.
Often in a chemical compound the poise of at-
traction is so delicate that it may be disturbed
by a breath, or by a note- from a fiddle, as
when either of these induces iodide of nitro-
gen to explode.

A beam of light effects the same result with
a mixture of chlorine and hydrogen. One of

the most familiar facts of chemistry is that
a fuel, such as coal, may remain intact in air
for ages. Once let a fragment of it be brought
to flaming heat and all the rest of the mass
will take fire too.

The action is that of a trigger. There are
triggers electrical, triggers mechanical, all em-
ulating the mechanism of the pistol and all
familiar enough from observation. But it is
little appreciated that Nature pulls her trig-
gers after setting her weapon. The result is as
likely as not to be an upsetting of the equilib-
rium of the atmosphere. Ordinary folk call that
a change in the weather. In Mr. Iles's work*

•Inventors at Work. By George lies. Doubleday,
Page and Company.

Courtesy Messrs. George W. Jacobs & Co.

THE FRAMER OF THE BIOGENETIC LAW
Ernest Haeckel, the most authoritative expounder of evolutionary ideas now living, is here represented
as shown in the relief portrait modelled by Kopf, of Rome, and reproduced in Bolsche's study of
Haeckel's life and work. The points to which attention has been called include the remarkably fine
facial angle, the high forehead with its protuberance over the brow and the unusually large expanse of
brain case from the tip of the, ear to the top of the cranium. These details denote a high capacity
for thought.

CURRENT LITERATURE

dealing with this and kindred topics we have
Professor Balfour Stewart giving his own
high authority to this view.

Suppose a stratum of air to be very nearly
saturated with aqueous vapor — that is to say,
to be just a little above the dew point, while
at the same time it is losing heat but slowly,
so that if left to itself it would be a long time
before moisture was deposited. Such a stra-
tum is in a very delicate state of molecular
equilibrium. The dropping of a small crystal
of snow into it would at once cause a re-
markable change. The snow would cool the
air around it, and thus moisture would be de-
posited around the snowflake in the form of
fine mist or dew.

This deposited mist or dew, being a liquid,
and giving out all the rays of heat possible to
its temperature, would send its heat into empty
space much more rapidly than the saturated
air. Therefore it would become colder than

the air around it. Thus more air would be
cooled. More mist or dew would be deposited.
So the series of events would progress until
a complete change of condition had been
brought about.

In this imaginary case the tiniest possible
flake of snow has pulled the trigger and made
the gun go off. It has altered completely the
whole arrangement that might have gone on
for some time longer as it was, had it not been
for the advent of the snowflake. We thus
see how in our atmosphere the presence of a
condensable liquid adds an element of violence
and also of adruptness amounting to incal-
culability to the motions which take place.
This means that our knowledge of meteoro-
logical phenomena can never be mathematic-
ally complete, like our knowledge of planetary
motions. We can never predict accurately
just the moment when the trigger of the
weather will be pulled.

THE DISCOVERY TO WHICH HAECKEL OWES HIS FAME

NE idea is of greatest consequence
in the structure of all scientific
thought to-day — the biogenetic
law. Ernest Haeckel brought
this idea so effectively to the front and ap-
plied it in so many ways that his latest bio-
grapher. Dr. William Bolsche, regards it as
Haeckel's most characteristic achievement —
the discovery, in fact, to which Haeckel owes
his fame. The phrase "the biogenetic law"
is known far and wide to-day. It crops up,
says Dr. Bolsche, in a hundred different fields
— psychology, ethics, philosophy, even in art
and esthetics. Dr. Bolsche says he has traced
it into modern mysticism.

Nevertheless, the biogenetic law is so
travestied in all popular interpretations of it
that, according to Dr. Bolsche again, there
is a total misconception of what Haeckel
means by his stupendous generalization. For
that reason the subject is made much of in
the new and authoritative study of Haeckel's
life and work which Dr. Bolsche himself has
given to the world.* The interpretation of
the biogentic law provided by Dr. Bolsche
is intended to correct all current misstate-
ments of a theory now generally talked of
but, it would oppear, wholly misunderstood
outside of a limited circle. At any rate

•Haeckel: His Life and Work. By William Bolsche.
With introduction and supplementary chapter by the
translator, Joseph McCabe. George W. Jacobs & Com-
pany.

Haeckel himself endorses Dr. Bolsche's
elucidation.

The germ of the biogenetic law was taken
by Haeckel from Darwin. In its present form
it finds its simplest illustrations in a green
aquatic frog and a fish — say a pike. Each of
tnem has a solid vertebral column in its
frame, therefore each must be classed among
vertebrates. But within the limits of this
group they differ considerably from each
other. The frog has four well developed legs.
Its body terminates in a tail. It breathes by
means of lungs like a bird, a dog or a human
being. The fish has fins, it swims in the water
by means of these fins and its long, rudder-
like tail, and it breathes the air contained in
the water by means of gills. When we ar-
range the vertebrates in a series, with man
at their head, it is perfectly clear that the
frog stands higher than the fish in regard to
its whole structure. It is lower than the liz-
zard, the bird or the mammal, but at the
same time it is a little nearer to these three
than the fish is. The fishes are the lowest
group of the vertebrates. The frogs beloag to
the group immediately above them.

Now, let us see how one of these frogs is
developed to-day. The frogs are egg-laying
animals. The mother frog lays her eggs in
the water. In due course, a new little frog
develops from each of these eggs. But the
object that develops from them is altogether
different from the adult frog.

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

This object is the familar tadpole. At first,
it has no legs. But it has a long oar-like
tail, with which it can make its way briskly
in the water. It breathes in the water by
means of gills just like a fish. It is only
when the tadpole grows four legs, loses its
tail, closes up the gills at its throat and be-
gins to breathe by the mouth and lungs in-
stead, that it becomes a real frog. There can
be no doubt whatever that the tadpole is
very much more like a fish than like a frog.
Between the frog-egg and the frog itself we
have a stage of development in each individ-
ual case of which we might almost say that
the young frog has first to turn into a fish
before it can become a frog.

How are we to explain this?

At first scientists suggested something like
the following: All beings in nature are ad-
mirably adapted to their environment and
their life conditions. Whatever be the ex-
planation of it, it is a simple fact. Now,
the frog lays its eggs in the water. The
young ones develop from these eggs and find
themselves in the water. The most practical
adaptation for them is to swim about by
means of a tail and breathe by means of
gills like the fish. They do not reach land
until later. At last they creep on to it.
They have an equipment of legs and lungs.

This explanation, however, throws no light
on the question why the frog lays its eggs
in the water. However, there might be some
utility or other, some need for protection,
for instance, in that.

Let us take a few other cases.

There are several species of tree frogs and
toads and closely related amphibia, like the
salamanders, that do not lay their eggs in the
water. Some of them bury them in folds of
their own external skin. Others (such as
the Alpine salamander) retain them as the
mammals do. The young animals develop in-
ternally from the eggs. Even there, how-
ever, where there is no question of aquatic
life, the young frogs, toads and salamanders
first assume the fish form. The young frogs
and toads have fin-like tails and all of them
have gills. There seems to be some internal
law of development that forces the frog and
its relatives to pass through the fish stage in
their individual evolution even when there i.«
no trace whatever of any external utility.

Now, says Dr. Bolsche, let us examine the
matter as believers in evolution:

"There are reasons on every hand for believ-
ing that the frogs and salamanders, which now
stand higher in classification than the fishes, were

developed from the fishes in earlier ages in the
course of progressive evolution. Once upon a
time they were fishes. If that is so, the curious
phenomenon we have been considering really
means that each young frog resembles its fish an-
cestors. In each case to-day the frog's egg first
produces the earlier or ancestral stage, the fish.
It then develops _ rapidly into a frog. In other
words, the individual development recapitulates
an important chapter of the earlier history of the
whole race of frogs. Putting this in the form
of a law, it runs: each new individual must, in
its development, pass rapidly through the form of
its parents' ancestors before it assumes the par-
ent form itself. If a new individual frog is to
be developed and if the ancestors of the whole
frog stem were fishes, the first thing to develop
from the frog's egg will be a fish and it will
only later assume the form of a frog.

"That is a simple and pictorial outline of what
we mean when we speak of the biogenetic law.
We need, of course, much more than the one
frog-fish before we can erect it into a law. But
Ave have only to look around us and we find
similar phenomena as common as pebbles.

"Let us bear in mind that evolution proceeded
from certain amphibia to the lizards and from
these to the birds and mammals. That is a long
journey, but we have no alternative. If the am-
phibia (such as the frog and the salamander)
descend from the fishes, all the higher classes
up to man himself must also have done so. Hence
the law must have transmitted even to ourselves
this ancestral form of the gill-breathing fish.

"What a mad idea, many will say, that man
should at one time be a tadpole like the frog!
And yet — ^there's no help in prayer, as Falstaff
said — even the human germ or embryo passes
through a stage at which it shows the outlines
of gills on the throat just like a fish. It is the
same with the dog, the horse, the kangaroo, the
duck_ mole, the bird, the crocodile, the turtle,
the lizard. They all have the same structure.

"Nor is this an isolated fact. 'From the fish
was evolved the amphibian. From this came the
lizard. From the lizard came the bird. The
lizard has solid teeth in its mouth. The bird
has no teeth in its beak. That is to say, it has
none to-day. But it had when it was a lizard.
Here, then, we have an intermediate stage be-
tween the fish and the bird. We must expect
that the bird embryo in the tg^ will show some
trace of it. As a matter of fact, it does so. When
we examine young parrots in the tgg we find that
they have teeth in their mouths before the bill
is formed. When the fact was first discovered,
the real intermediate form between the lizard
and the bird was not known. It was afterwards
discovered at Solenhofen in a fossil impression
from the Jurassic period. This was the archeop-
teryx, which had feathers like a real bird and
yet had teeth in its mouth like the lizard when
it lived on earth. The instance is instructive in
two ways. In the first place it shows that we
were quite justified in drawing our conclusions as
to the past from the bird's embryonic form, even
if the true transitional form between the lizard
and the bird were never discovered at all. In
the second place, we see in the young bird in the
tgg the reproduction of two consecutive ancestral
stages : one in the fish gills, the other in the liz-
ard-like teeth. Once the law is admitted, there

CURRENT LITERATURE

can be nothing strange in this. If one ancestral
stage, that of the fish, is reproduced in the young
animal belonging to a higher group, why not sev-
eral?— why not all of them? No doubt, the
ancestral series of the higher forms is of enor-
mous length. What an immense number of stages
there must have been before the fish ! And then

we have still the amphibian, the lizard, and the
bird or mammal, up to man.

"Why should not the law run : the whole an-
cestral series must be reproduced in the develop-
ment of each individual organism? We are now
in a position to see the whole bearing of Haeckel's
idea."

BLOODTHIRSTINESS IN CHILDREN

OTHING seems more clearly estab-
lished than the cruelty of children.
The subject has been dealt with at
some length by eminent German
educators. Professor Paulsen, of the Uni-
versity of Berlin, has ventured, in some cur-
sory observations, to question the validity of
the conclusion, but the facts in support of it
have hitherto been regarded as overwhelming.
Instances collected in a recent German volume
indicate that many boys are in the habit of
reading to their little sisters details of ghastly
murders and crimes, and of pointing out how
easily they could kill by similar methods. It is
thought to be the propensity of all boys, from
the age of five to the age of fourteen, to inflict
every kind of cruelty upon insects and animals.
In dealing with this propensity, it should be
understood at the outset, says a writer in the
Revista (Florence), himself a noted student of
child life, that the problem is not primarily
ethical. We .should never approach the sub-
ject of bloodthirstiness in children from an
ethical point of view. The defect is almost
entirely intellectual. It is therefore a scientific
blunder to call the attention of a cruel boy to
the suffering occasioned by his cruelties. It is
true that a child gifted with a highly con-
structive imagination would be influenced by
this argument; but imagination is a very rare
gift, and the tendency of modern education is
to destroy it altogether, or at any rate to
weaken it. It is therefore difficult to the edu-
cated child even to imagine the effects of its
procedure upon the organisms it destroys. It
is almost out of the question for a highly con-
structive imagination to conceive the agony
occasioned by the removal even of one's own
abdominal muscles. Moreover, there is high
scientific authority for the view that anguish
is keenest at the point of contact with the ex-
ternal surface of an organism. The pain, to be
sure, is felt in the brain, but the brain is less
sensitive to the impression as the invasion of
the organism proceeds. Thus a man may

suffer keenly when cut with a pen-knife, but
if stabbed beyond the tissues with a dagger he
may feel at first very little physical incon-
venience. Hence it is far from an accurate
assumption that the cruelty of children to
animals has such an intense effect in causing
pain as the humanitarian would have us sup-
pose.

It can be shown to a certainty that many
children of highly benevolent instincts seem to
their parents and guardians intolerably cruel.
The truth seems to be that these so-called cruel
children are merely ingenious. They will
cease their cruelties in time through a develop-
ment of their intellectual capacities in other
directions. If this be not done — if the intel-
lectual element in the whole problem be not
perceived — a grave wrong may be done to the
child. This is shown in the records of gifted
murderers and murderesses. Certain types of
murderers are highly benevolent. They are
humanitarian, affectionate, moral and natu-
rally kind. The circumstance is so well known
as to make reference to it superfluous, except
by way of illustration. The trouble with these
murderers is defectiveness of point of view.
They are told that their deeds are cruel, but it
requires a highly developed constructive im-
agination to grasp the essential cruelty in some
acts of murder. Indeed, many murders are con-
sistent with the highest benevolence in the
murderer. The cases of girls of eighteen to
twenty-five who have committed murder indi-
cate a complete misunderstanding of the nature
of cruelty on the part of those who have edu-
cated them as well as those who have judged
them. If, therefore, there is to be any effective
cure of the propensity to murder there must
be a closer investigation of the purely intel-
lectual basis of cruelty in children. For cruelty,
on its ethical side, is a matter of intention only,
and there is no evidence that bloodthirsty
children intend their cruelties in the way those
cruelties present themselves to maturer types
of mind.

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

THE POSSIBILITY OF AN INTELLIGENCE IN THE PLANT

^ EW more fascinating propositions
than those which have been ad-
vanced in connection with the pos-
sibility of an intelligence in the
plant come at present under the notice of the
man of science, remarks that noted English
student of botanical principles, S. Leonard
Bastin. To most people, he admits, the sug-
gestion may seem to be scarcely worthy of
consideration — the point having been settled
long ago to their way of thinking. Yet, urges
Mr. Bastin, when one comes to approach the
matter unhampered by any prejudices, it must
be admitted that, far from being settled, the
question of plant intelligence has never, until
very recently, been the object of any serious
inquiry at all. It is now an established fact
that plants can feel, in so far as the phenom-
enon of sensation is understood to be a re-
sponse to external influence. This being so,
there is nothing unreasonable should we go
still further and seek for evidence of some-
thing approximating to a discerning power in
the vegetable world. To quote Mr. Bastin,
who writes in the London Monthly Review:

"It is always wise to keep before one the near
relations of the great living kingdoms. As is
well known, the exact line of demarcation be-
tween the two worlds has not been, and probably
never will be, definitely fixed; in a sphere of life
of which we should be quite unconscious were
it not for our microscopes, plants and animals ap-
pear to blend imperceptibly together. Higher up
the scale it is sufficiently obvious that the or-
ganisms have developed on very different lines,
although one can never forget the extremely close
connections at the start. To animals we freely
grant a limited amount of intelligence and it
does not appear that there should be any Ual ob-
jection to making a similar concession t(v plants,
if due allowance be made for the differences of
structure. It is the purpose in the present paper
to gather together a few instances which seem
to point to the presence of a limited intelligence
in the vegetable kingdom; each one of these is
either the outcome of personal observation, or else
gathered from the record of an indisputable au-
thority. In all cases they are selected as being
examples which it is not easy to explain as direct
response to any special stimuli, and cannot there-
fore be referred to as plant sensation.

"The interesting group of plants, almost world-
wide in distribution, which have developed carniv-
orous habits, has always attracted a good deal of
attention. Each one of the many species offers an
infinity of fascinating problems, but for the
present purpose it will be sufficient to confine our
observations to the Sun Dew group — Droseracece.
Our indigenous Sun Dews are attractive little
plants, found commonly in bog districts. The
leaves of all the members of the family are dense-
ly covered with clubbed hairs, and a fly settling

among the tentacles is immediately enclosed by
these organs; meantime, a peptic fluid is exuded
from the glands of the leaf."

An interesting experiment may be conducted
with the Sun Dew. This experiment consists
in placing a tiny pebble against the tentacles.
These at once close in, it is true, but not
the least attempt is made to put out the
digestive liquid. How does the Sun Dew
know the difference beiween the fly and
the pebble? Still more remarkable were
some investigations conducted a few years
ago by an American lady — Mrs. Treat.
She proved conclusively that the leaves
of the American Sun Dew were actually
conscious of the proximity of flies even when
there was no direct contact. Pinning a live
insect at a distance of half an inch from a
healthy leaf, we are told that in about a cou-
ple of hours the organ had moved sufficiently
near to enable it to secure the prey by means
of its tentacles. A member of the same nat-
ural order as the Sun Dews — the celebrated
Venus Fly Trap — is well known to be quite
one of the strangest plants in the world. The
species, a native of South Carolina, is some-
times grown in glass houses in England. The
general form of its leaves is fairly familiar.
Designed in two bristle-fringed lobes, both
hinged together, the leaf, when fully expanded,
bears a striking resemblance to a set spring
trap. On the upper surface of each side of
the leaf are arranged three sensitive hairs.
Should any object touch one of these, no mat-
ter how lightly, the lobes snap, they go to-
gether, the bristles interlock and the prey, if
there be any, is a prisoner beyond any chance
of escape. It is not surprising to find that
such a highly specialized plant will give us
an incontrovertible instance in support of the
theory of plant intelligence. The leaf of the
plant will enclose anything which irritates its
sensitive hairs. To induce the plant to accept
a small piece of cinder, for instance, is a sim-
ple matter. But it does not take very long for
the plant to find out — how, it is not easy to
suggest — that its capture is inedible and, act-
ing upon this impression, it slowly opens its
leaf and allows the substance to roll away.
Now, try the same fly-trap with a leaf or even
a morsel of raw beef. So tightly clenched are
the two lobes that nothing short of actual
force will separate them until after the inter-
val of several days, when the plant has drained
the fragment of the desired nitrogenous ele-
ments. Unless one admits the presence of

lOO

CURRENT LITERATURE

some kind of discerning power on the part of
the plant, it is not easy to explain its behavior.
At first sight the study of roots may not
appear to be one of entrancing interest, and
yet it is likely that these organs exhibit some
of the most striking instances of intelligent
action to be found in the vegetable kingdom.
It was long a matter of speculation as to how
growing plants are always able to direct them-
selves toward the dampest sitiiations. The
explanation of this is probably to be found in
the fact that roots are inclined to take the
line of least resistance. Thus, place a plant
in a pot which is kept constantly standing in
a saucer of water and it is surprizing to find
how soon the roots will appear through the
hole at the bottom. We may, perhaps, take it
that the roots have not grown downward thus
quickly in order to get to the water so much as
that the soil, softened by the capillary attrac-
tion of the water upward, has encouraged a
speedy development in that direction. On the
other hand, in the case of a calla plant, the
pot of which was entirely immersed in water,
the roots grew upward almost against the law
of gravitation, so as to disport themselves
freely in the water. In the last instance it
seems to be only half an explanation to say
that the roots grew upward, as they did in the
greatest profusion, simply because it was pos-
sible that the line of least resistance lay in
that direction. Other root phenomena are
even more difficult of explanation. Take, for
instance, the following typical example, so
well described by Dr. Carpenter that one can-
not do better than give his own words :

"In a little hollow on the top of the shell of an
old oak (on the outer layers of which, however,
the branches are still vegetating) the seed of a
wild service tree was accidentally sown. It grew
there for some time, supported, as it would ap-
pear, in the mold formed by the decay of the
trunk on which it had sprouted; but this being
insufficient, it has sent down a large bundle of
roots to the ground within the shell of the oak.
These roots have now increased so much in
size that they do not subdivide until they reach
the ground; they look like so many small trunks.
In the soil, however, toward which they directed
themselves there was a large stone, about a foot
square, and had their direction remained un-
changed they would have grown down upon this.
But about half a yard from the ground they di-
vide, part going to one side and part to the other
... so that on reaching the ground they enclose
the stone between them, and penetrate on the
two sides of it."

Now here is a puzzle indeed. The grow-
ing root points were aware of the obstructing
stone eighteen inches before they could have
come into contact with it, and, acting upon this

knowledge, they took steps to get over the
difficulty. Eighty odd years ago the account
of a young Scotch fir upon a wall sending
down its roots many feet to the ground was
treated with incredulity, but this is now known
to be a not uncommon achievement. Such ex-
amples are not easy to explain if we discount
the idea of root intelligence. Again, the aerial
roots of the tropical lianes seem to possess a
wonderful cunning. Cases have been recorded
\n which these plants, growing under artificial
conditions, have sent out their organs to a tank
twenty-five feet beneath, evidently with the
knowledge that they would find water at the
end of their journey. Again:

"The opening and shutting of the floral envel-
opes is largely dependent upon the action of the
light. In various species the degree of illumina-
tion operates in a different manner. With some
flowers it is only the failing light toward evening
which causes them to shut up, while in others
the cloudiness of the sky during the daytime,
which may herald rain, exerts a similar influence
upon the blossoms, and thus the delicate essen-
tial organs are protected from the damaging
moisture. As a rule, the blossoms which have
acquired the power of closing up at the threaten-
ing downpour are those which are quite, or
nearly, erect in their bearing. On the other hand,
in a general way, the blooms which cannot gather
their petals together are pendulous in their habit.
A remarkable change in the pose of a flower
under artificial conditions is that of the Gloxinia,
a case which has been the subject of a good deal
of comment from time to time, although it ap-
pears that few people realize the important bear-
ing which this instance has upon the subject of
plant intelligence. As is well known, the wild
ancestor of the fine florist's variety is an insignifi-
cant South American species, with small drooping
blooms, the corolla of which is open throughout
the whole life of the flower. The aim of the
gardener in connection with the Gloxinia has been
to enlarge the bloom and also to cause these to
be erect in their bearing. His efforts have been
completely, crowned with success, and we now
have varieties with huge flowers borne in a oer-
pendicular fashion — the whole plant forming a
strange comparison with the early type. The
point upon which, in the present instance, one
would wish to enlarge is the fact that this has
to a great extent been made possible owing to
the culture of generations of Gloxinias under
glass; it appears to be doubtful whether such a
radical change in the bearing of the flower could
have been brought about in the open, even in a
tropical climate. It must be remembered that
ever since the introduction of this species into our
greenhouses — now many years ago — the plants
have never known what it is to experience rain,
and finding out that the principal reason for the
hanging of their flowers has gone, have been
willing models in the hands of the florist. Much
the same kind of thing is taking place among
the South African Streptocarpi, the members of
which genus are rapidly becoming much more
erect in their bearing as a result of their cultiva-
tion under glass. There seems to be something

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

lOI

more than a mere adaptation to environment in
these changes under artificial surroundings; the
plants appear to have become aware of the fact
that as far as they are concerned it will never rain
any more, and that the former precautions against
falling moisture are no longer necessary."

It is very much to the interest of some plants
to display their blossoms at night, in that they
are dependent upon the ofHces of insects which
fly after dusk for the fertilization of their or-
gans. In most cases of this kind the flowers
are white or of a very light color and show
up in the dark quite clearly. Here we see
that the failing light has exactly the reverse
effect which was noticeable in the examples of
day-blooming species. In the so-called cam-
pion of Great Britain there is a drooping of
the pretty flowers all through the day, but they
are displayed to advantage at the approach of
evening. In some of the cacti the flowers are
never open at all except in the hours of dark-
ness— a typical instance opening its blossoms
at about ten o'clock. Another typical noc-
turnal plant is the white tobacco, a species so
commonly growm in gardens, on account of its
fragrant blossoms. Within the last few years,
hybrids have been raised between this and
some of the colored nicotianas, and it is very
strange that most of the forms possessing col-
ored blossoms open their flowers during the
daytime, altho their past ancestors were night-
blooming species. One may say that the plants
seem to know that colors do not show up dur-
ing the hours of darkness. As a matter of
fact, it is very doubtful whether any British
Hawk Moths — an exotic relative of which fer-
tilizes nicotiana — ever visit the plants in Eng-
land, as it is certain that their probosces would
not be sufficiently long to reach the end of the
tube. Still, this does not alter the significance
of the action on the part of the hybrids men-
tioned above. In the whole question of the
opening and shutting of flowers there seems to
be something evidenced which is akin to an in-
telligence. All students are aware of a number
of instances in which plants open their flow-
ers and emit perfume at certain times, and on
examination it is found that this is just during
the hours when a particular insect — often the
only one which can assist the fertilization of
the organs — is abroad.

The whole subject of the relation between
plants and insects is one which is full of mys-
teries. It is not always easy to see just how
these relations have been established, even
tho one admits that they must have been de-
veloped side by side. In hundreds of cases,
plants have specially adapted their floral or-

gans for the reception of one kind of insect,
often so arranging the processes that others
are excluded. We quote again:

"Even more remarkable are those instances in
which a definite compact seems to have been ar-
rived at between the plant and the insect; the
former tolerating and at times even making some
provision for the latter. The case of a species
of fern is a typical one. This plant provides little
holes down the sides of its rhizomes for the ac-
commodation of small colonies of ants; the ex-
act service which these insects render to their
host is not very clear. The following instance of
a Central American acacia is quite romantic in its
way, but it is vouched for by good authorities.
This tree grows in districts where leaf-cutter ants
abound, and where the ravages of these insects
are so dreadful that whole areas of country are
at times denuded of foliage in a few hours. The
acacia has, however, hit upon a unique way of
protecting itself against the assaults of these
enemies. At the end of some of its leaves it pro-
duces small yellowish sausage-shaped masses,
known as food bodies. Now these seem to be
prepared especially for the benefit of certain
black ants which eat the material greedily, and
on this account it is no matter for surprise that
these insects (which are very warlike in habit)
should make their homes in the acacia, boring out
holes in the thorns of the tree to live in. It
is not very difficult to see how this arrangement
works out. At the approach of an army of leaf-
cutting ants, the hordes of black ants emerge,
fired with the enthusiasm which the defense of a
home is bound to inspire, with the result that
the attacking enemy is repulsed, and the tree
escapes unscathed. Explain it how one will, it is
impossible to deny that it is very clever of the
acacia to hire soldiers to fight its battles in the
manner described above.

"When plants find themselves in extraordinary
positions they often do things which seem to be
something more than just cases of cause and
effect. There really appears to be such a thing
as vegetable foresight, and by way of illustration
reference may be made to the manner in which
plants in dry situations strive to come to ma-.
turity as soon as possible. Specimens growing
on walls are most instructive in this connection.
It is always noticeable that plants in such posi-
tions run into flower and produce seed much in
advance of their fellows living under more nor-
mal conditions. By so doing they have made
certain the reproduction of their kind long be-
fore the hot summer has arrived, at which time
any active growth on a wall becomes an impos-
sibility. It is willingly conceded that shortage of
water discourages a luxuriance of growth and
tends to induce an early maturity, but to anyone
who has watched the habits of plants under these
circumstances there seems to be something more
than this — something which enables the plants to
grasp the fact that their life can only be a very
short one and that it is their duty at the earliest
possible time to flower and produce seed ere
they perish.

"Generally speaking, plants are most desirous to
obtain as perfect an illumination as is possible
to their foliage. Of course, light is so necessary
to bring about the formation of perfect green tis-
sue that it is not surprising to find that it is a suf-

102

CURRENT LITERATURE

ficient stimulus to cause vegetables to move their
organs to the direction from which the illumina-
tion is coming. But there are parts of the world
in which plants find that the direct rays of the
sun, where this orb is nearly vertical as in Aus-
tralia, are more than they can stand. The blue-
^m trees, for instance, find that the solar heat
IS too great for their leaves, and accordingly
adopt an ingenious way out of the difficulty. As
young plants growing under shelter, the eucaljT)ti
develop their leaves in lateral fashion, fully ex-
posing their upper surfaces skyward. Later on,
however, as the plants grow into trees and rise
above any screening shade, the blue-gums turn
their leaves edge-way fashion, so that no broad
expanse is exposed to the scorching sun. Some
plants direct certain organs away from the light,
as is seen in the case of the vine, where the
tendrils always seek dark corners. The value
of this tendency is very apparent, for it must be
seen at once these organs, whose sole object is to
obtain a hold somewhere, would be much more
likely to do so in some cranny, than if they took
their chance by growing out into the open. This

habit is exceedingly interesting when we remem-
ber that the tendrils are modified shoots, parts
of the plant which certainly do not shun the light.
Indeed, these tendrils seem to be working against
their inherent tendency.

"The instances which have been detailed above
might be multiplied almost indefinitely. They
have been selected out of an immense mass of
evidence which is at the disposal of any student
who will take the trouble to watch the members
of the great vegetable kingdom. To say that
plants think, as has been suggested by an en-
thusiast, is probably carrying the matter too far;
the word used in its accepted sense scarcely con-
veys a right impression of the mysterious power.
Rather would one refer to the phenomenon as a
kind of consciousness of being, which gives to
each plant an individuality of its own. It is
likely, and indeed highly probable, that it is im-
possible for the human mind to grasp just how
much a plant does not know, but in the face of
proved fact the existence of some kind of dis-
criminating power in the vegetable kingdom will
scarcely be denied."

WHY A MAN WITH A LONG PEDIGREE IS INCLINED

TO FEROCITY

T is often forgotten that by a proc-
ess of natural selection — in the evo-
lutionary sense — civilized mankind
was for generations subjected to
systematic brutalization. Mr. Francis Galton,
the celebrated student of heredity, connects the
fact with the supremacy of the church in
Europe during the middle ages. Celibacy was
enjoined by the religious orders upon their
votaries. "Whenever," declares Mr. Galton,
"a man or a woman was possessed of a gentle
nature that fitted him or her to deeds of char-
ity, to meditation, to literature or to art, the
social conditions of the time were such that
he or she had no refuge elsewhere except in
the bosom of the church." The consequence
was, observes Mr. Galton in a recent paper
read before a British scientific society, that
gentle natures had no continuance. "The
church," he insists, "brutalized the breed of
our forefathers." She acted, he avers, pre-
cisely as if she aimed at selecting the rudest
portion of the community to be alone the par-
ents of future generations. "She practised the
arts which breeders would use who aimed at
creating ferocious, currish and stupid natures."
Investigation has shown that monks in the mid-
dle ages had larger brains than the laity. The
laws of heredity indicate that the religious or-
ders were recruited from a class more highly
organized, from the standpoint of refinement
and gentleness, than were the laity.

But the laity were not entirely freed from
the influence of gentle and refined natures.
The church drained ofif the cream, but she
necessarily left a residue. But this residue was
plebeian. When a scion of some aristocratic
house was fitted by temperament and sweetness
of disposition for the religious life, he was
promptly requisitioned. Moreover, this entry
into the religious life solved many awkward
personal problems. An aristocrat with an in-
conveniently large number of sons or daugh-
ters tended to send the best of them into the
church. There was at work here a law of
heredity which, by a misapplication of scien-
tific principle, tended to accentuate ferocity
in persons of good pedigree.

Ferocity of character may become latent,
but there are tendencies always at work as a
result of which latent traits reappear. If the
ancestry has been conditioned by a progressive
elimination of the less feral instincts, a tend-
ency to savagery is inevitable. In the study
of a human pedigree, therefore, it must be re-
membered that if it includes a line of progeni-
tors extending back generation after genera-
tion to the aristocratic strains of the middle
ages, we must anticipate decided reversion to
the primitive type. There is, then, to speak
technically, a prepotency to ferocity of char-
acter. The process is analogous to that at
work in the strain of pigeons. No matter how
purely these birds may be bred, there is a con-

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

103

slant tendency to the production of an indi-
vidual with the special characteristics of the
wild ancestor.

This latency of inborn characters is quite
normal. Nor can it be reasonably objected
that there are two theories of heredity in mu-
tual conflict. It matters little for the present
purpose which is accepted. Suppressed an-
cestral traits, as Mendel has shown, tend to
reappear as an exclusive character in a pro-
portion of grandchildren. Even the grand-
children who do not revert tend to have off-
spring and descendants who do.

The forms or types of heredity now recog-
nized are four. There is, to begin with, that
kind known as continuous or normal inheri-
tance. In this kind of inheritance the children
resemble the father and mother. Next is
reckoned interrupted inheritance. Here the
offspring resemble the grandparents. A third
variety is known as collateral inheritance.
Offspring in this case inherit the characteris-
tics of an uncle or aunt. Last of all is classi-
fied atavism or reversion. This is an inheri-
tance of the characteristics of a remote an-
cestor. When individuals of two domesticated
races are crossed, for example, the offspring
may resemble neither of the parents. The
offspring may simply revert to the ancestral
or wild species. To use the popular language
of the breeder, there is a "throwing back."
Galton speaks of "alternative heredity." This
he illustrates by reference to the human eye.
If one parent has a light eye color and the
other a. dark eye color, some of the children
will, as a rule, be light and the rest dark.
They will seldom be medium eye colored, like
the children of medium eye colored parents.
But we do not know why certain traits are
transmitted hereditarily or why other char-
acteristics are not. We can foretell by a kind
of statistical deduction, within limits, what the
characteristics of a certain class of human off-
spring will be, however. We can calculate
the hereditary tendency of the individual.

A concrete illustration of hereditary tend-
ency in the individual is afforded by the case
of Herbert Spencer. "From the information
afforded by the autobiography," observes Prof.
J. Arthur Thomson in his study of Spencer,*
"we learn that on both sides of the house Spen-
cer came of a stock characterized by the spirit
of non-conformity, by a correlated respect for
something higher than legislative enactments
and by a regard for remote issues rather than

•Herbert Spencer. By J. Arthur Thomson, M.A.
English Men of Science Series. E. P. Dutton & Com-
pany.

immediate results." In these respects Her-
bert Spencer was true to his stock. "Disown
him as many non-conformists did, they could
not disinherit him. Non-conformity was in his
blood and bone of his bone." Grandparents
taken together, says Professor Thomsen, count
on an average for about a quarter of the in-
dividual inheritance; but in Herbert Spencer's
case we have a striking instance of reversion
to an ancestral type. His grandmother was
a peculiarly dominant hereditary factor. Hun-
dreds unknown to fame must have shared a
similar heritage of indefatigable unselfishness,
unswerving integrity, uniform good temper
and extreme gentleness of disposition. Such
qualities are largely due to remote ancestral
types and are brought out by something like
reversion :

"The large problem is as to the modes in
which the inheritance, normally bi-parental, and in
some sense always a mingling of ancestral con-
tributions, can express itself. Sometimes the ex-
pression is one-sided, sometimes it is a blend.
The mother may look out of one eye and the
father out of another, or the grandfather may be
reincarnated. By interbreeding hybrids pure types
may be got or reversions or an epidemic of var-
iations. This is the problem of the diverse modes
of hereditary transmission which we know in
some cases to be expressible in a formula, such as
Mendel's law or Galton's law."

Herbert Spencer's case, as we are assured
by independent investigators, is strictly in ac-
cordance with Galton's law of ancestral hered-
ity, according to which a trait possessed by an
entire ancestry is almost sure to reappear.
But a trait possessed by only one parent and
only half the ancestry is likely to reappear with
almost equal force in one out of every two
descendants. It follows, as a matter of logic,
that every European aristocrat with a long
pedigree — assuming its accuracy — is certain to
be more ferocious in tendency than a base-
born person. It is not less certain that a scion
of non-conformist English stock would mani-
fest a tendency to independence of thought.
Even a hereditary musical genius can be per-
petuated by a process of careful elimination,
as we see in the case of the famous Bach fam-
ily. But Mr. Galton's point is that the tend-
ency to ferocity of disposition in civilized man
during the medieval period is the strongest
atavistic trait ever handed down by an ances-
try in the history of civilized mankind. A
strain with that trait in it would be subjected
to a force of tremendous hereditary potency.
The longest and most aristocratic pedigrees, it
will be noted, go back to the robber barons of
the middle ages.

Recent Poetry

PON a young man of twenty-six, with
a boyish, beardless face, athletic
frame, and a manner devoid of man-
nerism, the eyes of literary Great
Britain are just now directed with more
than passing interest. Mr. Alfred Noyes is an
Oxford man, and he rowed in the Exeter College
Eight. When he left Oxford a few years ago he
set himself to work to earn a living by writing
poetry! The daring of such a procedure is fool-
hardy or splendid, according to results, and in
his case the result has been ci-owned with suc-
cess. He has earned his living and has compelled
serious public attention. He has published a
volume of verse each year since leaving the Uni-
versity ("Drake : An Epic" is the title of the
latest), making five in all. One of the volumes,
"Poems," has just been reprinted on this side
(Macmillan's) with an introduction by Mr. Mabie,
who finds in his verse "the heart of the child and
the mind of the man."

One of the best of the poems in the volume,
"Sherwood," was reprinted by us a few months
ago. We reprint below the best part of another
poem, which is too long to quote entire, and
which seems to us to suffer little from the
elimination of a number of stanzas:

THE BARREL-ORGAN
By Alfred Noyes

There's a barrel-organ carolling across a golden
street
In the City as the sun sinks low;
And the music's not immortal ; but the world has
made it sweet
And fulfilled it with the sunset glow;
And it pulses through the pleasures of the City
and the pain
That surround the singing organ like a large
eternal light;
And they've given it a glory and a part to play
again
In the symphony that rules the day and night.

And now its marching onward through the realms
of old romance,
And trolling out a fond familiar tune.
And now it's roaring cannon down to fight the
King of France,
And now it's prattling softly to the moon,
And all around the organ there's a sea without
a shore
Of human joys and wonders and regrets;
To remember and to recompense the music ever-
more
For what the cold machinery forgets.

There's a thief, perhaps, that listens with a face

of frozen stone
In the City as the sun sinks low;
There's a portly man of business with a balance

of his own.
There's a clerk and there's a butcher of a soft

reposeful tone.
And they're all of them returning to the heavens

they have known:
They are crammed and jammed in busses and —

they're each of them alone
In the land where the dead dreams go.

There's a very modish woman and her smile is
very bland
In the City as the sun sinks low;

And her hansom jingles onward, but her little
jewelled hand

Is clenched a little tighter and she cannot under-
stand

What she wants or why she wanders to that un-
discovered land.

For the parties there are not at all the sort of
thing she planned.
In the land where the dead dreams go.

There's an Oxford man that listens and his heart

is crying out.
In the City as the sun sinks low.
For the barge, the eight, the Isis, and the coach's

whoop and shout.
For the minute-gun, the counting and the long

dishevelled rout.
For the howl along the towpath and a fate that's

still in doubt,
For a roughened oar to handle and a race to think

about
In a land where the dead dreams go.

There's a laborer that listens to the voices of the

dead
In the City as the sun sinks low;
And his hand begins to tremble and his face is

rather red
As he sees a loafer watching him and — ^there he

turns his head
And stares into the sunset where his April love is

fled.
For he hears her softly singing and his lonely

soul is led
Through the land where the dead dreams go.

There's an old and haggard demi-rep, it's ringing

in her ears.
In the City as the sun sinks low;
With the wild and empty sorrow of the love that

blights and sears,
Oh, and if she hurries onward, then be sure, be

sure she hears.
Hears and bears the bitter burden of the unfor-

gotten years,
And her laugh's a little harsher and her eyes are

brimmed with tears
For the land where the dead dreams go.

RECENT POETRY

105

There's a barrel-organ carolling across a golden

street
In the City as the sun sinks low ;
Though the music's only Verdi there's a world to

make it sweet
Just as yonder yellow sunset where the earth and

heaven meet
Mellows all the sooty City! Hark, a hundred

thousand feet
Are marching on to glory through the poppies and

the wheat
In the land where the dead dreams go.

In a recent number of Blackwood's is a love-
poem by Mr. Noyes, but a poem of love in the
large generic meaning of the word. It is pretty
nearly perfect of its kind:

A SONG OF LOVE
By Alfred Noyes

Now the purple night is past,

Now the moon more faintly glows,
Dawn has through thy casement cast

Roses on thy breast, a rose.
Now the kisses are all done,

Now the world awakes anew ;
Now the charmed hour is gone —

Let not love go, too.

When old winter, creeping nigh,

Sprinkles raven hair with white,
Dims the brightly glancing eye.

Laughs away the dancing light,
Roses may forget their sun.

Lilies may forget their dew.
Beauties perish, one by one —

Let not love go, too.

Palaces and towers of pride

Crumble year by year away;
Creeds, like robes, are laid aside.

Even our very tombs decay!
When the all-conquering moth and rust

Gnaw the goodly garment through,
When the dust returns to dust,

Let not love go, too.

Kingdoms melt away like snow,

Gods are spent like wasting flames.
Hardly the new peoples know

Their divine thrice worshipped names!
At the last great hour of all.

When Thou makest all things new.
Father, hear Thy children call —

Let not love go, too.

Get at the mnermost heart of almost any hter-
ary man, and you are pretty sure to find there the
longing to write successfully in verse. The very
fact that it is the least lucrative form of liter-
ary production takes it out of the commercial
atmosphere that pervades our play-writing and
novel-writing so insidiously and makes it all the
more attractive to a true literary artist whose
soul revolts time and again against the commer-
cial standards with which writers and publishers

are forced to compromise. Thomas Nelson Page
is the latest to succumb to this longing for met-
rical expression. He has just had published
(Scribners) a volume entitled "The Coast of
Bohemia," and his preface is not the least poet-
ical part of the volume. In it he says :

"The author of this little volume knows quite
as well as the most experienced mariner the
temerity of sailing an untried main in so frail a
bark. But he is willing, if the Fates so decree,
to go down with the unnumbered sail of that
great fleet which have throughout the ages faced
the wide ocean of oblivion, merely for the thrill
of being for a brief bpace on its vast waters."

Mr. Page does not delude himself in regard
to the market value of minor poetry. "Despised
matter" he terms it, and he accounts for the pro-
duction of so much of it as follows :

"There is for the minor poet also a music that
the outer world does not catch — an inner day
which the outer does not see. It is this music,
this light which, for the most part, is for the
lesser poet his only reward. That he has heard,
however brokenly, and at however vast a distance,
snatches of those strains which thrilled the souls
of Marlowe and Milton and Keats and Shelley,
even tho he may never reproduce one of them,
is moreover a sufficiently high reward."

The quality of Mr. Page's poetry is fairly well
indicated in the last sentence above. It is almost
entirely an effort to reproduce the strains of
past singers. There is nothing compelling in his
verse, and while the poetic impulse and feeling
are always manifest, poetical ideas do not abound.
Two of the strongest poems are elicited by the
author's patriotism — a patriotism that includes
Great Britain as well as America and holds to
her history as a part of our own heritage.

THE DRAGON OF THE SEAS

April, 1898

By Thomas Nelson Page

They say the Spanish ships are out

To seize the Spanish Main;
Reach down the volume. Boy, and read

The story o'er again:

How when the Spaniard had the might,
He drenched the Earth, like rain,

With Saxon blood and made it Death
To sail the Spanish Main.'

With torch and steel, with stake and rack

He trampled out God's Truce
Until Queen Bess her leashes slip't

And let her sea-dogs loose.

God 1 how they sprang and how they tore !

The Gilberts, Hawkins, Drake!
Remember, Boy, they were your sires:

They made the Spaniard quake.

io6

CURRENT LITERATURE

Dick Grenville with a single ship

Struck all the Spanish line:
One Devon knight to the Spanish Dons:

One ship to fifty and nine.

When Spain in San Ulloa's Bay

Her sacred treaty broke,
Stout Hawkins fought his way through fire

And gave her stroke for stroke.

A bitter malt Spain brewed that day,

She drained it to the lees :
The thunder of her guns awoke

The Dragon of the Seas.

From coast to coast he ravaged far,

A scourge with flaming breath ;
Where'er the Spaniard sailed his ships,

Sailed Francis Drake and Death.

No coast was safe against his ire;

Secure no furthest shore;
The fairest day oft sank in fire

Before the Dragon's roar.

He made the Atlantic surges red

Round every Spanish keel.
Piled Spanish decks with Spanish dead,

The noblest of Castile.

From Del Fuego's beetling coast

To sleety Hebrides
He hounded down the Spanish host

And swept the flaming seas.

He fought till on Spain's inmost lakes

Mid orange bowers set.
La Mancha's maidens feared to sail

Lest they the Dragon met.*

King Philip, of his ravin' reft,

Called for "the Pirate's" head;
The great Queen laughed his wrath to scorn

And knighted Drake instead.

And gave him ships and sent him forth

To sweep the Spanish Main,
For England and for England's brood,

And sink the fleets of Spain.

And well he wrought his mighty work,

Till on that fatal day
He met his only conqueror.

In Nombre Dios Bay.

There in his shotted hammock swung

Amid the surges' sweep.
He waits the look-out's signal cry

Across the quiet deep.

And dreams of dark Ulloa's bar.

And Spanish treachery.
And now he tracked Magellan far

Across the unknown sea.

But if Spain fire a single shot

Upon the Spanish Main,
She'll come to deem the Dragon dead

Has waked to life again.

•Note. — It is related that King Philip one day invited a
lady to sail with him on a lake, and jshe replied that
she was afraid they might meet "the Dragon."

THE OLD LION
By Thomas Nelson Page

"The whelps of the lion answer him."

The old Lion stood in his lonely lair:

The sound of the hunting had broken his rest:
He scowled to the Eastward : Tiger and Bear
Were harrying his jungle. He turned to the
west ;
And sent through the murk and mist of the night
A thunder that rumbled and rolled down the
trail ;
And Tiger and Bear, the Quarry in sight,

Crouched low in the covert to cower and quail ;
For deep through the midnight, like surf on a
shore.
Pealed Thunder in answer resounding with ire.
The Hunters turn'd stricken: they knew the
dread roar:
The Whelp of the Lion was joining his Sire.

Miss Florence Wilkinson does not often write
love-poems. We wish she would write more of
them if they are all as good as this one in
McClure's :

THE MOUNTAIN GOD
By Florence Wilkinson

There is a mountain god, they say, who dwells
Remote, untouched by prayers or temple bells;
A god irrevocably who compels
The hidden fountains and the secret wells
Upward and outward from their cloistered cells;
He calls them, calls them, all the lustrous day,
And not one rippling child dare disobey.
There is a god who dwells within your eyes
Like that veiled god of mountain mysteries.
Compelling all my secret soul to rise
Unto a flooded brim of still surprize,
Flooded and flushed beneath the god's great eyes.
Beloved, you have called me to the day.
And all the fountains of my life obey.

The following poem tells nothing and yet tells
everything. The last line gives us a very strong
climax. We find the poem in The Reader Maga-
zine :

THE VISION
By Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

"O sister, sister, from the casement leaning.
What see' St thy tranced eye, what is the mean-
ing
Of that strange rapture that thy features
know?"
"/ see," she satd, "the sunset's crimson glow."
"O sister, sister, from the casement turning.
What saw'st thou there save sunset's sullen

burning?
— Thy hand is ice, and fever lights thine eye!"
"/ saw," she said, "the twilight drifting by"
"O sister, oft the sun hath set and often
Have we beheld the twilight fold and soften
The edge of day — In this no myst'ry lies!"
"/ saw," she said, "the crescent moon arise"
"O sister, speak ! I fear when on me falleth
Thine empty glance which some wild spell cn-

thralleth I
— How chill the air blows through the open
door 1"
"I saw," she scad, "I saitf' — and spake no more.

RECENT POETRY

107

The heart of the whole Christian religion — the
incarnation, the loving ministry, the agony, of
Christ — are all embodied in the following short
poem which appears in the December Scribner's:

ECCE HOMO

By William Hervey Woods

"O thou that comest past the stars
And past the utmost bound that bars

Us from unguessed infinity,
What hast thou seen along the road.
What marvels vast thy pathway strewed,

The long, long path to Calvary?"

"I saw^ the Sower down his brown fields striding

Fling wide the fruitful grain,
I saw the foxes in the old tombs hiding

By white towns veiled in rain."

"But this we that are men may see —
Did no great Voices speak with thee

A journeying to Jerusalem?
Thou that hast walked with Life and Death
In lands forbid to mortal breath,

What secrets are unloosed of them?"

"I heard what games the children's feet were
winging

There in your markets met,
I heard the price two tiny birds were bringing —

That I remember yet."

"Nay, Lord, but show some wonder done.
Now, or in times ere times begun,

That flashes forth thy Deity;
Light with a look a new-made world.
Or stay the swift hours onward whirled,

Till we forget Gethsemane."

"I knew, I knew, ere Eden's rose was blowing,

Prick of the twisted thorn —
The nails, the darkness, and the warm blood
flowing,

I knew — and I was born."

Carman's "Songs of the Sea Children," one hun-
dred and twenty-one in number, are not songs of
the sea but of love, with the organ-tones of the
sea, now loud, now low, as an accompaniment.
The full effect of the series is lost, of course, in a
detached song. We venture, nevertheless, to quote
the following little lyric, numbered XLIX in the
series :

FROM "SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN"

By Bliss Carman

I was a reed in the stilly stream.
Heigh-ho !

And thou my fellow of moveless dream,
Heigh-lo !

Hardly a word the river said,

As there we bowed him a listless head :

Only a yellowbird pierced the noon ;
And summer died to a drowsier swoon,

Till the little wind of night came by.
With the little stars in the lonely sky.

And the little leaves that only stir.
When shiest wood-fellows confer.

It shook the stars in their purple sphere,
And laid a frost on the lips of fear.

It woke our slumbering desire,

As a breath that blows a mellow fire.

And the thrill that made the forest start.
Was a little sigh from our happy heart.

This is the story of the world,
Heigh-ho !

This is the glory of the world,
Heigh-lo !

"The new poet is not yet," says a critic in the
London Saturday Review, but he finds in John
Davidson many of the qualities the new poet
must have. He is clearly conscious of a new age
since the Victorian poets sang. He is a modern
who feels "the stiffness and unsuitability of the
old vehicles" — "those conventions of poetic form
which petrify the utterance of this generation."
His verse is full of experiment, but the critic
finds in it lack of strength or intellectual force or
something else that is required to make the new
poet.

The Fortnightly Review publishes the follow-
ing poem by Mr. Davidson, which is beautiful,
but which seems to us partly to lose its grip
in the latter part:

■ HONEYMOON

By John Davidson

I waken at dawn and your head

On the pillow beside me lies ;
And I wonder, altho we were wed
Such an infinite fortnight ago,
"Have the planets stood still in the skies
Since my sweetheart and I were wed,

Since first I awoke, and lo
On the pillow beside me her head !

Through our window the wind forspent —

.Marauder in garth and wild ! —
His opulent burden of scent

Unloads lest he faint by the way;
For the flowers, they were subtly beguiled.
And their dewdrops and manifold scent
Perfume now the crimsoning day
On the wings of the wind forspent

I look and I look at your face

Till my thought of you pierces your sleep.
Till your silken lashes unlace.

And your blossomlike lids upheave.
Till your eyes emerge from the deep
As your writhen lashes unlace.

And morn and awakening weave
The wonder and joy in your face.

io8

CURRENT LITERATURE

Then your memory quickens and bids

A blush and a happy sigh
At the lift of your azure lids,

A concord of color and sound;
And there dawns in your violet eye,
When you open your flowerlike lids,

A thought from the depths profound
As an exquisite memory bids.

And this is your twentieth year,

And your bridegroom is twenty-one;
And our thoughts are as fragrant and clear
As the lucent splendor of noon.
My love is as rich as the sun.
And your love is as tender and clear

As the lily-light of the moon
In the sweetest month of the year.

At once when we waken we rise.

For the earth is as fresh as our thought,
And the heaven-high dome of the skies
A miracle constantly new:
A marvel, diurnally wrought.
The earth with its seas and its skies.
Its flowers and its matinal dew.
Awaits us as soon as we rise.

Through the woodland and over the lea

That dips to a golden strand.
Like fugitives seeking the sea

We haste in our morning mood ;
Together, and hand in hand.
We hurry to reach the sea

Through the purple shade of the wood,
And over the spangled lea.

In our boat on the swell of the tide .

We steer for the heart of morn.
And I say to you, "Sweet and my bride
Should hope be for ever undone,
Should destiny leave us forlorn.
Thus, thus shall we journey, my bride.

Right into the heart of the sun
On the morning or evening tide."

Could we harbor with sorrow and care,

And friendless, in penury lost.
Remain at the beck of despair

Like prisoners or impotent folk?
Could we chaffer, and reckon the cost.
And measure out love till despair
Subdued us, bereft, to a yoke
In harness with sorrow and care?

Oh, not while the morning is crowned,

And the evening, with roses and gold;
Because like adventurers bound

For a kingdom their faith could create
In a future of beauty untold —
Like hazardous mariners bound

For the haven and wharf of Fate
On a voyage with happiness crowned,

In our boat when the day is done.

On the lift of the evening tide
I should steer for the heart of the sun.
And sigh with my ebbing breath,

"Be resolute, sweet and my bride;

We shall sink with the setting sun.

And shelter our love in death
Since our beautiful day is done."

But now while our hearts beat high
With youth and unfolding delight,
And the honeymoon in the sky

At her zenith usurps the reign
Of thQ day as well as the night —
With the honeymoon in the sky

We steer for ^he shore again
While our bosoms with hope beat high.

Through-.the tasselled oats and the wheat

We march to the skylark's song.
Where the roses, pallid and sweet.
In delicate pomp parade
The precincts the wild bees throng —
Where the winding byways, sweet
With scent of the roses, wade
Through the flowing tide of the wheat.

Oh hark, from the meadows ! Oh hear

The burden the mower sings !
The past, how it hovers near

This uttermost isle of the sea !
Where the stone on the scythe-blade rings
The shadowy past draws near,

And the spirit of eld, set free.
Revives in the song we hear.

The dawn and the dusk are crowned
With chaplets of roses and gold;
We two are invincibly bound

For a Kingdom our faith can create
In a present of beauty untold :
Oh love, we are certainly bound

For the ultimate haven of Fate
On a voyage with happiness crowned !

The newest of Munsey's string of magazines.
Woman (at least it was the newest last month),
contains a very little poem by Bliss Carman :

IN A GARDEN
By Bliss Carman

Thought is a garden wide and old

For airy creatures to explore,
Where grow the great, fantastic flowers

With truth for honey at the core.

There, like a wild, marauding bee
Made desperate by hungry fears,

From gorgeous // to dark Perhaps
I blunder down the dusk of years.

The authorship of the little poem which we re-
printed last month under the title "A Slumber
Song" has come to light. The author is Mrs.
Ellen M. H. Gates, and it was published in 1895
(Putnam's) under the title "Sleep Sweet" in a
volume of verse by Mrs. Gates entitled "The
Treasures of Kurium." We are indebted for this
information to Mrs. Thomas O. Conant, wife of
the editor of The Examiner.

Recent Fiction and the Critics

Pierre Loti's name at once evokes visions
strange, tender and exotic. We have beheld him
draped in many brilliant garbs,
THE bringing in the folds of his cloak

DISENCHANTED the perfumes of Eastern gardens.
M. Pierre Loti, says The Times
Literary Supplement (London), is fond of dress-
ing up:

"Life is for him one long charade, in which the
great art is to shift one's apparel rapidly and
represent as many costume-parts as possible. He
has been a bridegroom in the Sandwich Islands;
he has been a Turk of Stamboul; he has been a
very pious unbelieving Christian pilgrim in Gal-
ilee ; he has been a sea captain ; the Japanese hus-
band of a Japanese Mousme; a young Protestant
from La Rochelle. What has he no± been?"

The same reviewer answers this question. He
has never been a fighter, a doer of things. During
the Dreyfus affair his name was not heard. While
others were brandishing clubs, M. Pierre Loti
was flirting with a Fantome d'Orient. And now,
after years spent in the Horsel with the fair
ladies of all nations, he has found his mis-
sion. He has given a voice to the suffering of
Turkish women in a novel* which the Times re-
viewer unhesitatingly welcomes as a "Sequel to
Uncle Tom's Cabin." The reviewer rubs his
eyes in wonder at this "dreamlike paradox." So
do the other critics. Nevertheless, it remains an
undeniable fact that for the first time in his ar-
tistic career Loti has written fiction not wholly
amorous, not wholly art for art's sake.

The position of Turkish women, Loti tells us,
is no longer what it was. Their masters grant
them almost absolute intellectual freedom. They
read, in the original, Nietzsche and Schopenhauer,
Verlaine and Baudelaire. But moral and physical
freedom are absolutely withheld from them.
They have no word in the choice of a husband
and may not even look upon the faces of the men
to whom they are going to be given in marriage
until after the ceremony has been completed. The
heroine of the book, DJenan, is such a woman.
Married according to Moslem fashion when still
a child, she falls in love intellectually with a
French novelist, attache to the French Embassy,
in whom we recognize without difficulty the fea-

*The Disenchanted. By Pierre Loti. Translated by
Clara Bell. The Macmillan Company.

tures of Loti himself. With her two cousins, wrapt
in veils, she manages to arrange meetings with
him in a secret harem. There is no breath of
scandal, but the tragic conflict of her life drives
her to suicide. Djenan dies, but dies not before
having implored her friend to write the book that
shall set free her sisters, the disenchanted dwell-
ers of the harem— "disenchanted" in that the old
spell of Moslem law has passed from them.

This promise Loti has set himself to fulfil. His
novel has an avowed purpose, but by no means
lacks his old witchcraft in words and images. By
a wave of his wand he transports us to the at-
mosphere of the Stamboul, where still lives the
reminiscence "of the primal human dream, linger-
ing in the shade of the great mosques, in the op-
pressive silence of the streets, and in the widely
pervading region of graveyards, where tiny lamps
with a thin yellow gleam are lighted up at night
by thousands for the souls of the dead."

It is for that very reason that The Independent
fails to detect in the book a note of reality. The
people and the customs described seem too far re-
moved from our standards. "Poor little gray
ghosts of womanhood," exclaims the reviewer,
"shrouded in tscharchaf or yashmak, sold like
bales of Oriental silks, slaves of the deadly monot-
ony custom has for immemorial ages prescribed
for well-born Turkish women! We are sorry for
them, but their tragedy does not touch us as it
should." Perhaps, also, the picture is not truthful.
M. Loti, the same reviewer remarks, like other
sailormen, has, or professes to have, a sweetheart
in every port and he "learns about women from
them." But the women of Japan have indignantly
repudiated him as the interpreter of their thoughts
and feelings, and it may be that the Turkish
women, if they gain a voice, would likewise dis-
avow any kinship with Djenan, Zeyneb and Me-
lek." In connection with this point, it may be of
interest to give one Turkish opinion of M. Loti's
work which seems to exonerate the novelist from
the charge of fibbing. Moustafa Kamel Pasha
in the Paris Figaro, pays a glowing compliment
to Loti's genius and deep sincerity. When, he
says, a Mussulman speaks of the author of "Dis-
enchanted," it is with profound gratitude. For
Loti, we are told, "has fathomed with greater
ability than any other writer the abyss between
Orient and Occident."

110

CURRENT LITERATURE

In Roberts's new romance* we find no turbaned
eunuchs and oriental perfumes, but plenty of
sea-breeze and the fresh smell of
THE HEART lilac blossoms. The Canadian
THAT KNOWS poet has chosen for the back-
ground of his stirring tale the
little village of Westcock in the Bay of Fundy.
The plot of the story is not entirely novel, but
Roberts can touch no subject without giving to
to it a part of his own vitality. Mr. Roberts,
says the New York Times Saturday Review, has
put his fisherfolk before us in picturesque and
vigorous fashion which is at once simple and
strong. What is perhaps most remarkable about
these people is that, by long tradition, affianced
lovers hold themselves as sacredly man and wife
as if the marriage ceremony had actually taken
place. Yet, as the Times reviewer remarks, even
the most vulnerable are unusually hard upon an
erring sister who happens to be jilted before
her wedding days. These premises we must ac-
cept on trust if the story of Luella and Jim Cal-
der is to mean anything to us. Then we can
understand the anguish of the girl as she waits
for her lover, into whose heart, in the words of
The Independent, a female Jago, a slender, red-
haired slip of a girl-demon, clever beyond be-
lief, has sown the seed of distrust. But she
waits in vain. He has sailed away leaying the
defenseless girl to scandal and disgrace with-
out a word of explanation. In the course of
time she gives birth to a boy who grows up
with the purpose of wreaking vengeance upon
his father but, by a miraculous chance, becomes
the instrument of reconciliation between the lat-
ter and his deserted bride. The denouement
seems incredible to a number of critics who re-
fuse to believe in Jim's unchanging devotion to
the woman he had flung aside like a wanton at
the first breath of suspicion. The Independent
answers this objection. It says Jim's readiness
to believe evil of the woman he loved, and who
had a peculiar claim upon his consideration,
would be incredible were it not that, as Coleridge
told us:

"To be wroth with one we love
Doth work like madness in the brain."

Still, asks another reviewer, why is it that
men are so exasperatingly stupid? The author's
delineation of his female characters calls forth
. less criticism. The characters of the women,
says the Chicago Record-Herald, are drawn with
imusual clearness and sympathy, indicating that
the author's poetic temperament, as in the case
of. George Meredith, gives him special powers in

•The Heart That Knows. By Charles G. D. Roberts.
L. C. Page & Company.

this direction. The St. Louis Dispatch remarks
in virtuous indignation that Mr. Roberts has
here written a novel which reads well, but smells
bad. The majority of critics, however, seem to
agree with the verdict of the Pittsburg Press:
"There is nothing morbid or at all forbidding in
this romance ; rather it is clean, good, and up-
lifting."

PRISONERS

Miss Cholmondeley's latest novel, "Prisoners,"*
coming after a silence of four years, is calling
forth enthusiastic comments from
critics on both sides of the ocean.
"The author's previous work," re-
marks the London Academy,
"was full of promise, but this is more than prom-
ise : it is performance. In no modern novel has
the female mind been analyzed with a more deli-
cate sense." This is the keynote of the English
criticisms and it is re-echoed in the American
reviews. M. Gordon Pryor Rice proclaims
almost ecstatically in the New York Times
Saturday Review that in "Prisoners" Miss Chol-
mondeley has produced a novel so finely con-
ceived and executed that criticism is lost in sheer
delight and admiration. He continues :

"The plot is singularly original — is, indeed,
almost adventurously out of the common. Baldly
stated, its strangeness might repel the reader who
loves a story lying close to life as familiar to us
all ; but, as Miss Cholmondeley handles it, the
plot has no trace of the bizarre, but becomes as
real as though it had entered into our own ex-
.perience. Her secret lies in the reality of her
characters. Given men and women human and
vital to the core, an author may do almost what
he pleases with them without loosening their hold
upon the reader's interest and sympathy. The
characters of 'Prisoners' are alive; they walk out
of the pages as we read, and become of our own
kind — flesh and blood, not figments of fancy.

"The story is written around contrasting 'pris-
oners' ; the one in physical bondage through the
utmost nobleness of vicarious sacrifice, the other
in the more cruel chains of selfishness — a selfish-
ness that permitted the immolation of the inno-
cent upon its altar."

A number of critics admit that the novel at
times taxes our credulity and is decidedly melo-
dramatic in its outline. The London Spectator
speaks of "Prisoners" as an extrerriely favorable
example of a blending or hybridization of melo-
drama and tragedy. The melodrama, we are
told, remains, and, though submerged at times
in the waters of caustic criticism, keeps cropping
up throughout the book, and asserts itself with
undiminished vitality in the last chapter. The
story is roughly summarized as follows:

"An English girl, who has made a mariage
de convenance with a middle-aged Italian Duke,

•Prisoners: Fast Bound in Misery and Iron. By
Mary Cholmondeley. Dodd, Mead & Company.

RECENT FICTION AND THE CRITICS

III

meets, while still a young married woman, the
young man — now a diplomatist — whose suit her
family had persuaded her to reject. Michael,
though still in love, honourably resolves to escape
temptation by flight; but Fay — the Duchess — en-
treats him to pay her a last visit at her villa, and
proposes elopement. At this critical moment an
Italian Marquis is opportunely murdered in the
garden of the villa; Michael is discovered in hid-
ing, and to save Fay's honor confesses to the
murder, and is condemned to fifteen years' im-
prisonment. After a year the Duke, wh© has
guessed her secret, and is convinced of Michael's
innocence, dies, and on his death-bed appeals to
his wife to tell the truth, and release her lover.
Fay, who is cowardly as well as selfish, keeps her
counsel, and Michael languishes in prison until
the wife of the murdered man confesses to the
crime. Meantime Fay has returned to her people
in England, and at the time of Michael's release
is engaged to be married to his elder brother
Wentworth, a blameless prig, whose sole redeem-
ing feature is his affection for Michael. Ignorant,
however, of the previous relations between Fay
and Michael — which Michael has vainly urged
upon Fay to disclose — he develops an insane
jealousy of his brother, which becomes so acute as
ultimately to force a full confession from his be-
trothed."

Jane T. Stoddart in the London Bookman com-
plements this account. We are allowed, he tells
us, to understand that after Michael's death Went-
worth forgives Fay and marries her. What does
Miss Cholmondeley intend us to think of their fu-
ture? We have, he goes on to say, no reason to
suppose that either at the last is truly repentant

"Wentworth is brooding over his own fancied
wrongs when he is summoned to his brother's
death-bed. Fay would have crept from the pain-
ful scene but for the bishop's express command.
Is there any prospect of happiness in such a union
as theirs? We miss at the close of this brilliant
novel that sense of calm and healing, that uplift-
ing hope for the survivors, which lightens so many
of the great tragedies of literature. If the curtain
rose again, it would show us, we fear, the petty
life of two petty souls. Memories from the past
must haunt them, for

'Neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder.

Shall wholly do away, I ween.

The marks of that which once hath been.'

But there are some who find no place for repent-
ance, though they seek it carefully with tears."

WHITE FANG

Jack London is a very prolific writer. He is
perhaps too prolific. Of late he has even been
charged with being in such a
hurry to produce "copy" that he
was forced to dip his pen into
other people's ink. However this
may be, in his new book* he has returned to
the scene of his earlier success and writes once
more in a vein original and unique to himself.

"White Fang. By Jack London. The Macmillan Com-
pany.

The publisher's anouncement and the New York
Times Saturday Review pronounce "White
Fang" even better than "The Call of the Wild";
the majority of critics, however, do not seem
to share that view, but all agriee that the book
is strong. The Evening Post voices the general
feeling when it remarks:

"This is the kind of thing Jack London does
best. In this atmosphere he wears neither his
street swagger nor his more distressing company
manners. As a biographer of wild animals he
has hardly an equal. A generation ago this re-
mark would have meant little, but what with Mr.
Kipling, Mr. Roberts, Mr. Thompson-Seton, the
Rev. Mr. Long, and the rest, this field of natural
letters, as it might be called, has become con-
spicuous. It is the 'pathetic' consideration which
gives such books their hold upon us; we like to
speculate as to the relations or analogies between
beast -kind and mankind."

"White Fang" really is the companion piece to
"The Call of the Wild." In the former, London
portrays how instinctively and irresistibly domes-
ticated wild animals revert to freedom, while in
the latter he shows the converse of this situation.
As the San Francisco Argonaut puts it :

"From his puppyhood in a pack of Arctic wolves,
White Fang, a wolf, with a quarter strain of dog,
was the enemy of his kind. For the first five
years of his life he was bitter and implacable.
As leader of the sled team of Grey Beaver, the
Indian, his trips were long remembered for the
havoc he wrought amongst the dogs of the Yukon
villages. But when he was purchased by a brutal
white man, and was goaded and tormented and
kept in a rage, that he might be exhibited as
'The Fighting Wolf,' White Fang became the
enemy of all things. A new life begins for him
when he is rescued from the jaws of a bulldog
by a new white master, who attempts to tame
White Fang by kindness. The task seems hope-
less, but in the end he learns to be trustful and
law-abiding. And when he takes the long journey
to the Santa Clara Valley in California, he comes
to be known as the Blessed Wolf, for he saves
his master's family from the murderous ven-
geance of an escaped criminal."

In a tale of this nature ever3'thing depends on
the telling, and the story of "White Fang" is
told exceedingly well. The manner in which the
author manages to interest one in the history
of the wolf is an achievement of which, in the
opinion of the Times Saturday Review, "Mr.
London, with a long list of triumphs already to
his credit, may well be proud. One even
wonders occasionally why all the details worked
out in the little fellow's evolution do not grow
wearisome, but they never do, and from the thrill-
ing hunger cry of the wolf pack around their
victim's campfire to the last chapter's vision of
doggish domestic bliss, White Fang is as en-
thralling a hero as any novel of them all can
boast of."

112

CURRENT LITERATURE

A Terrible Night — By Anton Tchekhof

The author of this story, the late Anton Tchekhof, one of the foremost writers of modern
Russia, received from his contemporaries the appellation of "The Russian Maupassant." He un-
doubtedly shared with the brilliant Frenchman the gift of short-story telling, also his pessimism,
untainted, however, with the latter's morbidity. His pessimism was philosophical rather than tem-
peramental. He had brooded long over the riddle of the universe and come to the conclusion that
life is_ futile. Most of his later books were enshrouded in an atmosphere of gloom. Only at
rare times, as in the present story, a touch of humor suddenly illuminates the shadow that dark-
ens his page. (Translation made for Current Literature.)

EAN PfiTROVITCH PANIKHIDINE,
paling, turned down the wick of the
lamp and began in a voice full of emo-
tion :

"An impenetrable, gloomy fog was enveloping
everything one night in November, 1883, as I
was returning home from the house of a dead
friend where we had been holding a long spiritual-
istic seance. The narrow streets on my route
were for some unknown reason but poorly lighted,
and I was obliged to grope my way ahead. I
was living in Moscow, near the Church of the
Resurrection, in the house of a public employee
whose name was Troupof — that is to say, in one
of the most deserted parts of the Arbate quarter.
As I walked along my thoughts were of a pain-
ful and overwhelming nature. . . .

"'Your life approaches its end. . . . Re-
pent. . . .'

"Such was the phrase which had been ad-
dressed to me by Spinoza, whose spirit we had
evoked at the seance. I had demanded its repeti-
tion, and not only was it repeated, but there was
an addition : 'To night.'

"I do not believe in spiritism, but the idea
of death or a mere allusion to death fills me with
sadness. Death is inevitable, gentlemen, it is the
common lot;- but, nevertheless, death is contrary
to human nature. Now that the cold and im-
penetrable darkness was enshrouding me, and the
furious rain-drops madly whirling before my
eyes, while overhead the wind was plaintively
wailing; now when I could see not a living soul
around me and could hear no human voice, my
whole being was seized with an undefinable, inex-
plicable fear. I who had no superstitions,
hastened my steps, fearing to look back or even
to glance aside. It seemed to me that if I
dared look behind me I should surely see the
ghost of the dead man."

Panikhidine sighed heavily, drank a little water
and continued :

"This undefinable fear, you will understand,
did not leave me even when, having mounted the
four flights of stairs of Troupofs house, I
opened my door and entered my room. It was
dark within my modest dwelling. I could hear

the weeping of the rain through the stovepipe;
it was beating on the draft doors as tho be-
seeching hospitality.

" 'To believe Spinoza,' said I to myself, smiling,
'I shall have to die to the sound of this wailing.
All the same it is painful!'

"I lit a light. A furious blast of wind swept
over the roof of the house. The calm wailing
changed to a wicked roar. Somewhere below a
counterblast produced a knocking sound and the
draft vent began to cry plaintively for help.

" 'It is a hard thing to be without shelter on
such a night,' thought I.

"But there was no time to abandon myself to
reflection. As the sulfur of my match began to
burn with a blue flame and as my eyes were
searching the room, an unexpected and terrible
sight was presented. . . . What a pity some
blast of wind did not extinguish the match!
Perhaps then I should have seen nothing and my
hair would not have stood on end. I uttered a
cry, took a step toward the door, and, filled with
fright, despair and amazement, I closed my
eyes. . . .

"In the middle of the room was a coffin!

"The blue flame did not burn long, but I
had had time to discern the outlines of the
coffin. ... I had seen the glittering red
brocade with its spangles, I had seen the gold
cross in passementerie on the cover. There are
things, gentlemen, which engrave themselves on
the memory, tho one sees them but for a moment.
It was thus with this coffin. I looked at it for
a second only, but I remember its slightest de-
tails. It was a coffin made for a person of
medium height, and, judging from its crimson
color, it seemed destined for a young girl. The
expensive brocade, the supports, the bronze
handles, everything told that the dead occupant
had been wealthy.

"I rushed from the room with all speed, and
without reflecting, without thinking, but wholly
under the influence of an inexpressible fear. I
descended.

"The corridor and the staircase were in dark-
ness, my feet became entangled in my pelisse, and
I am surprized that I did not fall and break

A TERRIBLE NIGHT

113

my neck. Reaching the street, I leaned against
a lamp-post and began to compose myself. My
heart was beating terribly, my respiration had
ceased."

One of the ladies who was listening turned
the lamp lower, and drew nearer the story-teller,
who continued :

"I should not have been astonished had I found
my room on fire, or encountered a thief or a mad
dog. ... I should not have been astonished
had the ceiling fallen, or the floor given way or
the walls tumbled in.

"All that would be natural and comprehensible.
But how could a coffin have made its entrance
into my room ? Where did it come from ? It was
an expensive coffin, designed for a woman, evi-
dently for a young aristocrat. How could it
have fallen into the poor apartment of a small
employee? Is it empty or does it actually contain
a body? Who was this young patrician who had
abandoned this life forever and paid me the
strange and terrible visit? Poignant secret!

"'If this is not a miracle, it is a crime,' such
was the thought that came to my mind.

"I was lost in conjectures. During my absence
the door had been fastened and the place where
we kept the key was known only to myself and
to some intimate friends. But no friends had
ever brought me this coffin. It might possibly
be surmised that the coffin had been brought to
me by mistake by the undertakers. Wrongly di-
rected they had made an error and brought the
coffin where it was not needed. But everyone
knows that our undertakers never go on a job
until they first have been paid or at least furnished
with drink money.

" 'The spirits have foretold to me my death,'
thought I. 'Have they not possibly taken the
trouble to supply me with a coffin ?'

"J do not believe in spiritism, gentlemen, and
never have believed in it, but a coincidence like
this gives a mystical turn of mind even to a
philosopher.

"I concluded that the whole thing was a piece
of folly and that I had been scared like a mere
student. It was an optical illusion, nothing more.
Returning under the mastery of such gloomy im-
pressions, it was not strange that my sick nerves
had conjured a coffin before my eyes. Most cer-
tainly it was an optical illusion! What else could
it possibly be?

"The rain beat against my face and the wind
was tossing my coat skirts and hat. I was numb
with cold and wet to the bone. It was necessary
to go somewhere, but where? To return home
was to risk seeing the coffin again, and such a
sight was beyond my strength. Without a living
soul in sight, without a human voice within hear-

inf, to remain alone face to face with this coffin
in which was a corpse, perhaps— this would be
to visit the loss of one's reason. To remain in
the street exposed to the torrential rain and ex-
posed to the cold was equally impossible.

"I decided to go and pass the night with my
friend Oupakoief, who, later, as you know, com-
mitted suicide. He was then living in the Hotel
Tcherepof, Rue Meustvy.

Panikhidine wiped away the cold sweat which
was running down his pale face, and heaving a
painful sigh, continued:

"I did not find my friend at home. Having
knocked at his door and being convinced that he
was not in, I felt for the key on the shelf over the
door, and fitting it into the lock, entered. I threw
my wet coat on the floor, and touching a sofa,
I sat down to rest myself. It was dark. In the
ventilating shaft the wind was howling sadly. In
the stove a cricket was making its monotonous
chant. I hurriedly struck a match. But the light
did not relieve my melancholy — quite the con-
trary. A terrible and inexpressible fear seized
me anew. ... I uttered a cry, stumbled, and
losing all control over myself, hurled myself out
of the room.

"In my friend's room, as in my own, I had just
seen a coffin !

"My friend's coffin was almost twice as large
as mine, and its chestnut garnishing gave it a par-
ticularly mournful aspect. How came it there?
It was impossible to doubt, now, that this was an
optical illusion. It was not possible that there
could be a coffin in every room ! Evidently this
was some nerve malady. It was an hallucination.
It mattered little, now, where I went; I should
see everywhere before me the frightful image of
death. Evidently I had become mad ; I had been
seized with a mania for coffins, and the cause for
my madness was not far to seek. The spiritual-
istic seance and the words of Spinosa explained
it.

"I am going mad I I thought with horror, as I
held my head in my hands. My God ! What
shall I do?

"My head was bursting, my legs gave way un-
der me. ... It was raining in torrents, there
was a piercing wind and I had neither coat nor
hat. To return to the hotel for them was impos-
sible. Fear was contracting my limbs. My hair
was standing on end, a cold sweat was pouring
down my face — all in spite of my belief in an
hallucination.

"What was to be done?" continued Panikhidine.
"I was going mad and was in danger of taking
cold. Fortunately I recollected that not far from
the Rue Meustvy lived a good friend of mine,
Dr. Pogostof, who recently had obtained his di-

114

CURRENT LITERATURE

ploma and who, moreover, had assisted with me
at the spiritistic seance. I hastened toward his
house. He had not yet married the rich lady,
who has since become his wife, and he lived on
the fifth floor of the house occupied by the coun-
cilor of state, Kladbischteuski.

"It is to be recorded that at Pogostof's my
nerves underwent new torture. While mounting
to the fifth story I heard a terrible noise. Over-
head someone was rushing about, stamping his
feet and slamming doors. I heard piercing cries :
'Come here ! help ! concierge !' and a moment
afterward there descended upon me a melancholy
shadow wearing a coat and a battered silk hat.

" 'Pogostof !' cried I, recognizing my friend.
'It is you ! What has happened ?'

"Reaching my side, Pogostof stopped and
seized me convulsively by the hand. He was pale,
breathed with difficulty, and was trembling. His
eyes were haggard and his breast was heaving.

" 'Is it you, Panikhidine ?' he asked in a hoarse
voice. 'But is it really you? You are as pale as
a ghost come from the grave. . . . But are
you not an hallucination ? . . . My God !
You are frightful ! . . .'

" 'But, what is the matter with you ? You are
all in disorder !*

" 'Ah, dear friend, let me breathe. I am content
merely to see you, if, indeed, it be you and not
another hallucination. A curse on spiritism ! It
has so shaken my nerves that, on returning' home,
imagine it, I saw in my room — a coffin !

"I could not believe my ears and I begged him
to repeat it.

" 'A coffin, an actual coffin,' said the doctor,
seating himself with great effort upon a stool.
'I am not timid, but the devil himself would be
frightened if he saw a coffin loom up before him
in the darkness.'

"I gave the doctor a stammering account of the
coffins I had seen.

"For a whole minute we looked at each other
in open-mouthed astonishment. Finally, to con-
vince ourselves that we were not laboring under
hallucinations, we began to pinch each other.

" 'Both of us can feel the pain of that,' said the
doctor, 'consequently, we are not asleep, but wide
awake. Consequently, the coffins, mine and yours,
too, were not optical illusions ; they exist. What
shall we do now, my friend?'

"After remaining a whole hour on the stair-
case, shivering, lost in conjectures and supposi-

tions, and perishing from the cold, we decided to
get the better of our cowardice, and to rouse
the servant in order that we might enter the doc-
tor's rooms in his company. We did what we
had decided upon. Entering the room, we lit a
candle, and, true enough, we saw a coffin gar-
nished with gold, fringed white brocade and
acorns. The servant piously crossed himself.

" 'Now,' said the doctor, pale, and trembling
in all his limbs, 'we shall know whether the coffin
is empty or not.'

"After hesitating a long time the doctor, his
teeth chattering from fear and expectation, bent
over and raised the coffin pall.

"We looked ; it was empty.

"There was no body in it, but to make up for
this absence we found a letter which said :

" 'My dear Pogostof : You know that my
father-in-law's affairs are in a bad way. He is
head and heels in debt. To-morrow, or the day
after, he will be seized by the sheriff. This would
be a fatal blow for his family and mine; and our
honor, which I rate above all else, would be tar-
nished. Yesterday in family council we decided to
conceal everything of any value. As the whole
fortune of my father-in-law consists of coffins
(he is the finest maker of caskets in the city, as
you know), we have decided that the most beau-
tiful shall vanish. I address you as a friend ; save
my fortune and our honor ! In the expectation
that you will be willing to do me this service, I
send you, dear friend, a coffin which I beg you to
keep for me till I send for it. Without aid from
our friends and acquaintances we are lost. I hope
that you will not refuse me this, as this coffin
will not be permitted to remain with you more
than a week. To all those I consider my true
friends I have sent a similar message, and I
count upon their generosity and their integrity.
" 'Your loving friend,

" 'Jean Tcheloustine.'

"After this adventure, I nursed my shattered
nerves for three months ; our friend, the son-in-
law of the coffin manufacturer, saved his honor
and his possessions ; he now heads an establish-
ment for the sale of funeral supplies. The busi-
ness is not a very prosperous one, and every
evening on my return home I dread seeing near
my bed a white marble monument or a cat-
afalque."

FIORELLA

Fiorella — A Comedy by Sardou

O the Americans must be alotted the
credit of writing the best contempor-
ary short stories, declares that able
a literary critic, M. Funck-Brentano,
in the Paris Figaro; but it is to France, he
adds, that one must go for the best written one-
act plays. France, he believes, is the home of the
one-act play — the "curtain raiser." This form of
dramatic composition must have a literary quality
if it is to appeal to the French taste. That is, it
must be readable by and in itself, apart from any
merit revealed from its presentation on the stage.
The French theaters attach great importance to
the curtain raiser, a fact which, we are told, may
account for the care bestowed by contemporary
French writers upon this form of composition.

The following one-act comedy is by Victorien
Sardou and P. B. Gheusi. The latter is referred
to by M. Funck-Brentano as one of the men
doing the most distinctive work of this kind in
France at the present day. Sardou, of course, is
known to all the world. He is now in his seventy-
fifth year, and this little play is therefore a sort
of conjoint effort by a representative of the old
and a representative of the new school of French
playwrights. "Fiorella" was produced for the first
time in London, at the Waldorf Theater. The
scene is laid in Venice in the sixteenth century.
There are but five characters:

Cordiani, the lover of Fiorella;
Gattinara, a bandit chief;
Agostin, a Venetian senator;
Fiorella, niece of Agostin;
Zerhine, Fiorella's maid.

The curtain rises upon a hall in Agostin's
palace. In the background is a large bay-window
fronting upon the canal and affording a view of
the palaces on the bank opposite. It is night, deep
night. The rising moon is silvering the roofs
and campaniles. Agostin's palace is shrouded in
silence. The song of some gondoliers floats into
the windows and then dies down. The patrician
Agostin, emerging from the gallery which leads
to his apartment, crosses the hall and stops to
listen at Fiorella's door. Hearing nothing, he
calls.

Agostin: Fiorella! {Continued silence on the
part of the young girl. Agostin raises his voice)
Fiorella !

There is no reply. Zerhine hurriedly enters by
the door leading to the canal. She is out of

breath. In her hand is her prayer-book. She
seems plunged into consternation by the other's
presence. Agostin, suspicious and unfriendly,
questions her.

Agostin : Why, Zerbine, where do you come
from at this hour?

Zerbine : From vespers, my lord.

Agostin (inrredulously) : The bells of St.
Mark's have long been silent in the darkness of
to-night.

Zerbine (volubly) : I prayed for you.

Agostin (drawing her toward him) : Look me
in the face. Whence come you?

Zerbine: From the service.

Agostin : Who preached ?

Zerbine (zvithout hesitating) : A Spanish
canon, Don Guzman.

Agostin : From what text ?

Zerbine (with comic terror and mocking tone) :
Some terrible Latin that foretold the awful fate
of misers. Their souls will have, as the inherit-
ance of hell, the black pest and St. Anthony's
fire. The worthy preacher made us see in the
great caldron a man being roasted and tortured
for having hounded his lady's maid too much.

Agostin (threateningly): Fool!

Zerbine : In the glowing furnace there was
also, aflame from head to foot, a guardian smell-
ing of sulfur. He had remorselessly wrung
tears from an adorable niece.

Agostin : Fibber !

Zerbine : But the most terribly punished of all,
howling, roasting and agonizing, was a scolder, a
pig-head, a jealous fellow, proud as yourself and,
like yourself, a senator of Venice.

Agostin: Impudent thing! Be off! Yes, I
say, I dismiss you. (He controls himself sud-
denly.) Are you going to serve Fiorella her
supper ?

Zerbine: My mistress?

Agostin (sarcastically) : She sulks and curses
me, no doubt. Console her. Preach her a ser-
mon. Be eloquent. Your memory is still charged
with the holy discourse.

Zerbine: Alas! She is the prey of her sor-
rows. She weeps. I can guess as much.

Agostin: May Heaven grant you are right,
Zerbine. I had not dared to hope for tears. A
woman who weeps is already consoled. She who
is most sorrowful and most desolate in her tears
finally finds a smile again. Bid her to forget Cor-
diani.

Zerbine : Her betrothed ! You are raving. She
loves him.

ii6

CURRENT LITERATURE

Aeostin: No. That is over and done with.
Stripped of his all in an infamous gaming-house
by a Greek accomplice of that Gattinara who is
to be hanged to-morrow, the chevalier cannot
have for his wife the niece of Agostin.the wealthy
senator. Let her then forget this gallant, who
will henceforth be but a soldier of fortune — mock-
ing phrase, that, meaning that he has no fortune
at all.

Zerbine: You are false to all you have sworn.

Agostin: What he swore to counted for so
httle with him!

Zerbine: There was but one love in his heart.

Agostin: That of the gaming table.

Zerbine : He is the victim of a robber

Agostin: Less despicable than himself.

Zerbine : He wrote such pretty verses

Agostin: In the sand. Such things as the
breeze blows away. I have found, for the pur-
pose of ending this deceitful love

Zerbine: The best means of intensifying it.

Agostin: One word more and I will bury you
both to-morrow in a cloister.

Zerbine {terrified) : In the convent!

Agostin : The convent ! {He is about to go.
A sudden tumult outside, the sound of the watch-
man's whistle, and an increasing uproar impel
both patrician and servant to run out to the bal-
cony.)

What has happened?

The watchman will tell us.

Listen !

(indifferently) : Some funeral pro-

Zerbine :
Agostin :
Zerbine :
Agostin
cession.
Zerbine :
Agostin :

A robbery.

That would be worse.

Watchman (outside, in the profound silence of
the night, relates the event he is called upon to
announce) : From the leaden-roofed prison this
night the terrible bandit Gattinara has made his
escape. The city will pay ten thousand ducats to
anyone who will return him. Any who shelter
him will receive the halter. At your first call for
aid, at the slightest noise, the watch will rush to
your aid. Midnight! (Bells, horns and noises.)

Agostin (in consternation) : At liberty! Gat-
tinara ! What terrible news ! No more repose
for honest men.

Zerbine (without alarm) : Gattinara has never
known cruelty from woman. Wo to neglectful
husbands!

Agostin (trembling) : Gattinara, who dis-
guises himself in a hundred ways, in order to get
into our houses to rifle us as he pleases!

Zerbine (smiling) : Gattinara, who falls at our
feet, and, abandoning infamous pillage, murmurs
in the ear of women bold and sweet avowals !

Agostin: Ha! Zerbine! Have you bolted the
door?

Zerbine : Heaven 1

Agostin: You don't know whether it's bolted
or not, I declare! May the north wind fly away
with you ! Let us go down. Light the way.

Zerbine (petulantly, relighting the extinguished
lantern) : Bad luck to the rascal who upsets all
my plans! How is the door to be left open for
our chevalier?

Agostin : Before we go to bed let us look to
the locks and windows. Hurry up ! Let us go.

Zerbine (counterfeiting terror) : I'm afraid.
(She shrinks, followed by Agostin, who is un-
easy.)

Agostin (sheepishly) : By my ancestors, I'm
afraid myself.

Zerbine : Not as much as I am.

Agostin (imperiously) : Go first! (Both go
out, the senator behind the servant, he advancing
and retreating with her, according to Zerbine's
mischievous fancy. Two gondolas pass in the
night and there is the sound of mandolins and
guitars. Fiorella, in melancholy mood, appears
on the balcony and leans over it.)

Fiorella (dreamily) : Venice sleeps in the har-
mony of mandolins and stringed lutes. Their
sweet refrain makes night balmy with songs of
love. In the softness of the pensive shades along
the river come dreams which drive away all
thought of the hour to return home. (In the dis-
tance the serenading mandolins die away.) In
sadness I await the friend who is tardy. The
moon watches the dancing of the ripples in the
calm waters. When shall I at last behold the ap-
proaching gondola of my well beloved? (Zerbine
enters by way of the gallery. Fiorella eagerly
questions her.) Zerbine! Well?

Zerbine : I have delivered your letter. The
chevalier will come. Hush! You must let your
guardian go to sleep. I managed to open the
door after him again. Don Agostin had double
bolted and barred it.

Fiorella: Then he has had his suspicions
aroused?

Zerbine: He is afraid. The famous bandit
Gattinara is wandering about in the darkness.
He has just escaped from the leaden-roofed
prison.

Fiorella (gazing keenly along the banks and
canals from her station on the balcony, while
Zerbine stands at her side) : There is nothing
that seems suspicious in this vicinity.

Zerbine : Below there, in the shadows, glides
a bark. A man in a dark cloak is steering in our
direction.

Fiorella: Then it is my knight! But how can
I be sure of it? He draws near. He listens!

Zerbine : (summoning the unknown with a ges-
ture) : Let us make him a sign.
Fiorella (surprised) : He seems to hesitate.

FIORELLA

117

Zerbine {leaning out over the canal) : Is it
really you, Signer Cordiani ?

Voice (muMed, from below) : Of course.

Zerbine: Push the door. Come in. You are
expected. {To Fiorella) It's done. He is com-
ing.

Fiorella : Look out for Don Agostin and let us
know if he awakes. {While she is going toward
the gallery, Gattinara enters, in the rear, he being
swathed in the ample folds of a monk's habit.)

Gattinara {aside): A love-affair! A quiet
place of refuge! A double good fortune offered
in return for my boldness. I am not the lover
that is expected. Never mind. Suppose I take
his place?

Fiorella : Cordiani !

Gattinara {in the light) : Madam !

Fiorella {terror-stricken): Heaven! You are
not Cordiani !

Gattinara {standing in her way) : Perhaps.

Fiorella : A monk !

Gattinara {abandoning the costume in which, he
is disguised) : No. The habit does not make the
monk. {Sinking to his knees.) From the jeal-
ous it hides a gallant whose heart beats beneath
the doublet of a gentleman.

Fiorella {endeavoring to be rid of the intruder
and in terror lest Agostin awake) : Begone!

Gattinara : Never !

Fiorella : I will call my people.

Gattinara {succeeding in his effort to kiss her
hand) : Death were to me less cruel coming from
this hand, so soft to my lips.

Fiorella {in surprise) : Death ! Then you
are

Gattinara: One with a price upon his head. A
rebel.

Fiorella {showing him the door hidden in an
angle) : Fly !

Gattinara {trying to draw her closer to him) :
That would mean giving myself up.

Fiorella {angrily): Go!

Gattinara: That means refusing a refuge, a
last refuge, to the proscribed. I am at bay.

Fiorella {incredulously) : Who is responsible?

Watchman {his voice is farther off in the dis-
tance than it was before, yet it is still quite dis-
tinct) : Good people, Gattinara is being hunted
out. By a ruse he has escaped the leaden-roofed
prison. He is ugly, little, knock-kneed and
skinny, bearded like a pirate and tanned like a
negro. Remember this description.

Gattinara {much amused by the falsity of every
detail in his pretended portrait, which he has
noted with a brief nod and appropriate mimicry) :
Luckily, the description is not only incorrect but
a lie from beginning to end. It is a description
invented by some jealous man whose wife must
be laughing at his expense. {He gaily approaches
Fiorella, who is terror-stricken.)

Watchman {ending his cry) : Lock your doors
against the terrible bandit ! Down with Gatti-
nara ! Look out ! One o'clock !

Fiorella: Great heaven! Gattinara! It is he!
{She goes toward him boldly.) I understood
all, signor. Here are some valuable rings, my
purse, my jewel-case. It is my whole wealth.
Have mercy ! Go !

Gattinara {charmed with her, takes her hands
and draws her to the balcony into the light of
evening) : Oh, enchanting voice! Speak on! Let
me behold those eyes!

Fiorella {resisting): Night of terror I Have
pity !

Gattinara: How pretty she is!

Fiorella {rebellious but powerless): Alas!

Gattinara: Be not afraid. Restore, oh, divine
marvel, the crimson of a smile to the flower of
your lip. What I shall ask of you

Fiorella: I can guess — Agostin's gold. It is in
the next room.

Gattinara: You take me

Fiorella {with a shade of mischief) : For one
proscribed.

Gattinara {in high good-humor) : For a robber.
Well, yes, I am one. But what matters to me the
strong box of some miser or his gold plate?
While he sleeps with his door trebly barred, I
would seize the incomparable treasure, the peer-
less jewel which dazzles with its sovereign bril-
liance this whole palace, where my good angel
points out the refuge of my heart and the haven
of my bark. It is you, radiant beauty, who are the
object of my longing or my dream. It is the
beam of your dreamy and serene glance that rises
upon the horizon of my hope.

Fiorella {anxiously and aside) : How am I to
make him go?

Gattinara: My heart ceases to feign and my
voice no longer lies. Look into my distracted
soul and let it be yours to smile. Nothing here
below could be compared with your love. Yes,
I will steal them, trembling and pale bandit that
I am — I will steal those diamonds, your eyes,
and that gold, your hair, your radiant lips, oh,
divine they are! I would that you loved me
blindly and wildly — as I love you! {He falls
upon his knees in the attitude of one beside him-
self with love, when Cordiani appears and pre-
cipitates himself toward the maid.)

Cordiani {in fury): Fiorella!

Fiorella {running to him) : Save me!

Cordiani {throwing aside his cloak and draw-
ing his sword) : Death!

Gattinara: My rival!

Cordiani : Wretch !

Fiorella: Silence! Agostin is asleep.

Cordiani: How does this man come here?

Gattinara: Kill me! That would be a fine
thing to do — one gentleman killing another who
is unarmed.

Fiorella {in fright) : Cordiani !

Gattinara {in amazement — aside) : What do I
hear? He whom one of my followers robbed in
a gaming-house of twenty thousand gold ducats !
I swear by our lady that I will return the money
if I save my own skin.

Cordiani: What is your name?

Gattinara : Guess ?

Cordiani: Gattinara.

Gattinara {surprised) : My head is worth ten
thousand ducats. You may gain the money.

Cordiani {appeased) : Why did you come here?

Fiorella {showing her j-ewel-case) : To rob.

Gattinara {pointing to the chevalier's naked
sword) : To die.

Cordiani {returns his sword to its scabbard and
opens the little door in the angle) : Be off.

Gattinara {without stirring) : I am a knight
and a poet. You give me life. In accepting that
gift from my equal, two words will repay the
debt.

Cordiani: Two words?

Gattinara: To you, thanks. {Kissing the long

ii8

CURRENT LITERATURE

sleeve of Fiorella's cloak) : To madam, pardon,
I beg. (He salutes, and goes without hurry.)

Cordiani: An original character. Let him go
and get himself hanged somewhere else.

Fiorella: With what suspicion did you malign
me an instant since, without even hearing me?

Cordiani: No, I never doubted you, my Fio-
rella. But what has happened? Your letter
alarms me. Agostin

Fiorella : Nothing moves him He wishes to
separate us forever.

Cordiani: Not until he has heard me.

Fiorella: With to-morrow's sun, if we still
resist him, he means to shut me up in a convent.

Cordiani: But his promise?

Fiorella : He deems himself released from it on
account of the robbery you have suffered.

Cordiani: Accursed be the gamester's trap
which the demon of gambling caused me to fall
into. In poverty, henceforth, a wanderer far from
your beloved eyes — my stars — night shall obscure
with her veil my beautiful but fading dream.
Along the distant banks whither I shall flee to
spend my last hours, destiny has chosen the bleak
promontory beside the weeping waves where I
am to die.

Fiorella : I would not have you leave Venice.
The days of happiness will bring their flowers
once again.

Cordiani: The grimness of destiny is to rne
eternal.

Fiorella : There is — oh ! let me tell you so — ^but
one misfortune without remedy — that is death.

Cordiani: Alas! Happy days? So far, so for-
lornly, so quickly, does time deflower their fleeing
caress.

Fiorella: Then let us submit to the destiny
which overwhelms us. It is a sacred duty — there
is the hope of a to-morrow.

Cordiani: Fiorella — do you love me?

Fiorella: Oh, my hero, I love you.

Cordiani: Very well. If these superhuman
skies, deaf to my supreme prayer, hide from our
eyes their stars of love, let us fly together. My
bark is moored in the shadows of the tower.

Fiorella: Whither shall we fly?

Cordiani: To those shores where the sea in
more merciful mood has found shelter on blos-
soming headlands for smiling villages that are
hospitable to those in love.

Fiorella: Leave here? And my guardian?

Cordiani: A tyrant.

Fiorella: And the esteem of our friends?

Cordiani: Your flight is justified. Respect the
sacred vows desecrated by the perjured Agostin.

Fiorella : Do not tempt me. Pity my weak-
ness.

Cordiani: I shall die if your heart abandons
me.

Fiorella : Zerbine !

Cordiani: She will joins us later.

Fiorella : Grant me one more day. (On a sud-
den, outside, is heard a tumult. There follow a
shot and the noise of pursuit.) Heaven!

Voice (in the distance): Help! (Gattinara
rushes in.)

Fiorella and Cordiani: Gattinara!

Gattinara (breathless) : Hide me! I implore
you to save me once again! It will be the last
time. Otherwise I shall be taken and slain.

Cordiani: So I see — the guards arc in pursuit
of you.

Gattinara : The whole band saw me enter the
palace.

Fiorella (to Cordiani) : My friend, let us save
him.

Cordiani (parodying the bandit) : We cannot
devote ourselves to the service of a gentleman by
halves. But where shall he be hid?

Fiorella (while the brigand is donning his
monk's habit) : In the only sure place of refuge
— my apartment.

Cordiani: The heaven from which I am exiled
is to be made over to this brigand?

Fiorella (smiling) : He is no longer dangerous.

Cordiani : A robber !

Fiorella : It does not matter. Guardian, con-
vent or watchman would not have saved me from
something worse in the form of a man, had it
been necessary to hide him.

Cordiani : What do you mean ?

Fiorella: A lover,

Gattinara: They come. The palace is sur-
rounded. I entreat you — let me defend myself.
A sword, a dagger! I am hanged already.

Cordiani (very calm; he pushes the bandit into
Fiorella's chamber) : Not yet. Go in there.

Agostin (rushes in, followed by Zerbine, the
watchman and some soldiers, the latter remaining
in the background. Cordiani has hidden himself
in the angle of a doorway) : This way, gentle-
men. But since he has been captured in my
house by me, it is to myself that Venice owes ten
thousand ducats. That is the promised sum.

Watchman: No doubt. (Cautiously, to his men
on the stairway) Remain there. Watch every
door. Fire upon him if he appears.

Zerbine: Fire upon him! (She lets herself
sink into an officer's arms.) Then I am dead.

Watchman (far from reassured and pushing
the others in front of him) : I am obliged, in
view of my headstrong rashness, to be very cir-
cumspect. When a brawl is proceeding it is
enough for me to show myself to see them all run
away. Therefore I must hide behind you all. I
must assume an apparent fear. If he saw me, our
man, without being necessarily a coward, would
be too frightened. Take particular care not to
irritate the man. He is said to be rather cour-
ageous. Don't forget either that he is a gentle-
man. He is headstrong, like ourselves. As soon
as the accused is trembling in your hands, I will
reveal my presence. But I will be silent — for he
would be quite capable of making his escape — he
is so afraid of me.

Agostin: Fiorella. fear nothing. It is that
Gattinara, a scamp who, in the darkness, has stolen
into our abode. But we are many. He is caught.
(In a voice trembling with fear) Surrender!

Fiorella : Uncle !

Agostin (louder, behind the watchman, whom
he has managed to thrust in front of him) : Ras-
cal, give yourself up ! A bit of tapestry is moving
there. (Hurried retreat of all.)

Fiorella: It's the breeze.

Agostin (pale and broken of voice) : An armed
hand !

Zerbine (clinging to the watchman) : A ghost!

Watchman (terrified): A rat! (Zerbine lifts
the suspicious bit of tapestry. Nothing there.)

Agostin : Nobody !

Watchman (relieved) : He must have fled.

Agostin (affrighted) : No, that red cape is
his.

FIORELLA

119

Cordiani ^advancing') : Pardon me, it is mine.

Agostin (in fury) : You !

Watchman : He is our robber.

Agostin : Of course, since he robs me of the
ten thousand ducats prize money. Ah, rascal,
whence come you?

Cordiani (indignant, he steps forward toward
Agostin, who retreats) : Signer !

Watchman (to Zerbine) : I see now why the
niece is dumbstruck and the guardian is furious.
(To Agostin) Signor, shall we not take this gal-
lant to prison or shall we throw him out of the
window ?

Agostin: I will attend to that.

Watchman: I understand — a family secret.

Agostin (handing him a purse and pushing him
to the door) : Insolent !

Watchman (in a loud tone, calling to those on
the stairway and the balcony) : Ho, there ! Off
with you! Make no noise. Everybody is asleep.

Agostin (furious, handing him a few more
coins) : Not a word.

Watchman: Silence is golden. (He departs,
followed by the guard.)

Agostin (returning to Cordiani) : Now for us
both.

Fiorella: We three 1

Agostin: Fiorella! With to-morrow's dawn
you enter a convent (To Cordiani) As for you
— disappear! I dismiss you.

Cordiani: But your oath?

Agostin : Enough !

Zerbine: These poor lovers!

Agostin : Be quiet, simpleton !

Zerbine: Separate them — what a cruel fate!

Agostin : Again ! To-morrow, I will put you
in a convent. You will not leave it while I live.

Gattinara (having stolen from his place of
refuge, bent over like a hunchback, a cowl over
his eyes, he reaches the door and sniffs behind
them): Dominus vobiscum! (All turn in sur-
prise.)

Zerbine: A monk!

Agostin : Or else, perhaps, that Gattinara, a
past master in the art of assuming all disguises.

Cordiani (humbled and determined) : Fare-
well!

Agostin (amiable and eager, retains him as he
is about to depart): What! Leave us so soon,
without permitting your friends to retain you for
a few minutes longer? (Reassured by the pres-
ence of Cordiani, he turns to the monk) And how,
reverend father, did you come up here?

Gattinara: By a stairway.

Zerbine: I hope so.

Gattinara: Is Don Agostin here?

Zerbine: Here he is.

Gattinara (in boundless delight, crying aloud) :
God be praised, this morning hour will witness
the liberation from infernal torment of a penitent
who sorrows for his deep sin.

Agostin (uneasily to Cordiani) : This chanter
of psalms is an object of suspicion to me. (To
the seeming monk) I am sorry, father, but at this
hour I always close my door to beggars as well as
to robbers. I shall therefore be regretfully
obliged to show you the door.

Gattinara: I do not come to seek money. I
bring some.

Agostin (expansively) : You don't say!

Gattinara: Overcome with his sorro^ys, his
heart heavy as lead, his head bowed, his eyes

filled with tears, my penitent said to me : "Before
I die, hasten to Don Agostin, and say to him that
his son-in-law "

Agostin : What wild talk ! I never had a son-
in-law and never will.

Gattinara (without permitting himself to he
interrupted and taking hints from the gestures of
Zerbine): Say to him: "The betrothed of his
niece Fiorella "

Agostin: My niece betrothed! That is an im-
posture.

Gattinara (turning to the two lorers, who make
signs to him) : You shall soon see that it is the
truth.

Agostin : No, no.

Gattinara (humbly to Cordiani) : " — has lost
all his wealth in a vile gaming-house where" —
my penitent robbed him.

Cordiani (furiously) : That bandit !

Gattinara (appealingly) : He repents. I have
twenty thousand ducats to restore to you on his
behalf.

Agostin (deferentially, to the chevalier) : Ha!
Twenty thousand ducats.

Gattinara (to the guardian) : I beg your par-
don— I thought some mistake

Agostin : Ahem !

Gattinara (solemnly) : Is it the truth? Is this
gentleman your son-in-law? If not, nothing is
accomplished.

Agostin : He has always been.

Gattinara (taking a paper from his pocket) : At
Sanguisuela

Agostin : My banker.

Gattinara : The sum will he handed to you.
Here is the draft.

Agostin (having examined the paper, he retains
it) : Signed by my own banker !

Gattinara: In real gold.

Agostin (showing the paper, which he holds at
a distance) : It is as he says. Ah, the honest
robber !

Cordiani: I saw very well that he was indeed
a gentleman.

Agostin : Twenty thousand in gold — does not
the honest rogue retain anything for himself?

Gattinara: He returns the whole sum.

Agostin: These brigands are sometimes up-
right and delicately refined.

Zerbine : Many an honest man would have kept
those ducats. To cheat while gambling is a
trivial offense to many a Croesus who shines by
his virtue.

Fiorella (smilingly to the bandit) : Let us for-
give the worthy villain.

Agostin: It is done already.

Then may he be happy and — ^better.
May he avoid the halter and win an

One bandit still remains odious — Gat-

Fiorella

Cordiani
inheritance,

Agostin :
tinara.

Gattinara (exchanging mocking glances with
Fiorella and Cordiani) : Why, no, sleep in peace,
for your property has nothing to fear from the
brigand — to-night.

Agostin: Is he dead?

Zerbine: Or captured?

Fiorella (smiling) : Or drowned?

Cordiani: Or burned?

Agostin: Slain without fuss!

Gattinara : A thousand times worse — ^he turned
monk.

Humor of Life

A GLIMPSE OF THE INVISIBLE
"Bobbie," demanded Bobbie's mother, reproach-
fully, "why in the world didn't you give this
letter to the postman, as I told you to ?"

"Because," replied the youth, with dignity, "I
didn't see him until he was entirely out of sight."
— Harper's Magazine.

Swate's eyes rather popped out at this. "What's
the word?" he asked.

"Idiosyncrasy."

"What?"

"Idiosyncrasy."

"I guess I'll stay in," said Swate. — American
Spectator.

IT ALL DEPENDS

"After all," remarked the old bachelor, "there's
no place like home."

"That's right," rejoined the married man sadly,
"and there -are times when I am glad of it." —
Smith's Magazine.

FINANCIALLY WEAK
Tramp (piteously) : "Please help a cripple, sir."
Kind Old Gent (handing him some money) :

"Bless me; why, of course. How are you

crippled, my poor fellow?"
Tramp (pocketing the money) : "Financially

crippled, sir." — Illustrated Bits.

MUSIC HATH CHARMS
"Waiter !" called the customer in the restaur-
ant where an orchestra

was playing.
"Yes, sir."
"Kindly tell the leader

of the orchestra to play

something sad and low

while I dine. I want to

see if it won't have a

softening influence on

this steak!"— 7t7 Bits.

EVIDENCE

"Yep," remarked Si Whipple, the landlord of
the Benson Bend Hotel ; "ther sausages I've bean
a-feedin' my guests air made from kanines."

"How'd yer find thet out?" inquired the post-
master.

"Wa-al, I fed 'em sausages fer a week, an' by
Saturday every guest I had begun ter growl." —
Judge.

BEYOND WORDS

"Are you feeling very ill?" asked the doctor.
"Let me see your tongue, please."

"What's the use, doctor," replied the patient;
"no .tongue can tell how bad I feel." — Tit Bits.

AFRAID IT WOULD
SLIP

Senator Tillman pi-
lot e d a constituent
around the Capitol build-
ing for a while and then,
having work to do on the
floor, conducted him to
the Senate gallery.

After an hour or so
the visitor approached a
gallery doorkeeper and
said : "My name is Swate.
I am a friend of Senator
Tillman's. He brought
me here and I want to go
out and look around a
bit. I thought I would
tell you so I can get back
in."

"That's all right," said
the doorkeeper, "but I
may not be here when
you return. In order to
prevent any mistake I
will give you the pass-
word so you can get your
seat again."

THE ANIMAL PARADISE
— Oberlaender in Westermann's Monatsheft, Leipzig.

WHAT TROUBLED
HIM

A well-known Atlanta
minister tells an amusing
story of an Atlantan who
has a wife with a sharp
tongue.

Jones had come home
about two in the morn-
ing, rather the worse for
a few highballs. As soon
as he opened the door
his wife, who was wait-
ing for him in the accus-
tomed place at the top of
the stairs, where she
could watch his uncer-
tain ascent, started up-
braiding him for his con-
duct.

Jones went to bed, and
when he was almost
asleep could hear her
still scolding him unmer-
cifully. He dropped off
to sleep and awoke after
a couple of hours, only
to hear his wife re-
mark:

"I hope all the women
don't have to put up with
such conduct as this."

"Annie," said Jones,
"are you talking again
or yet?" — Atlanta Geor-
gian.

HUMOR OF LIFE

HE SHOULD HAVE BOUGHT IT
FIRST

Whyte: "Yes, I intended to buy that
seaside hotel; but I went down there and
stayed a week to look it over, and "

Rogers : "Yes ?"

Whyte : "And after paying my bill I no
longer had the price of the hotel." — Tit Bits.

THE EXPERT
"Is Speedman a good chauffeur?"
"Good ? Say ! he caught a man yesterday

that every motorist in the city has had a try

at and missed." — Judge. .

HOME MILLINERY
Mrs. Ostrich. — -Now, George, stop your fault-finding,
should be glad to give them up. Just think how much
they look in my hat than in your tail.

— From

LINES TO A LITERARY MAN IN LOVE
Lover, if you would Landor now,

And my advice will Borrow,
Raleigh your courage, storm her Harte, —
In other words, be Thoreau.

You'll have to Stowe away some Sand,

For doubtless you'll Findlater
That to secure the maiden's hand

Hugo and tackle Pater.

Then Hunt a Church to Marryatt,

An Abbott for the splice ;
And as you Rideout afterWard

You both must Dodge the Rice.

Next, on a Heaven-Gissing Hill,

A Grant of Land go buy.
Whence will be seen far Fields of Green,
All Hay and Romany Rye.

Here a two-Story House-
man builds ;
The best of Holmes is it.
You make sure that on its
Sill
The dove of peace Haz-
litt.

"Hough does one Wright
this Motley verse,
This airy persiflage?"
Marvell no Morris to How-
itt's Dunne,
Just Reade Watson this
Page !
— Elizabeth Dickson Conover
in Putnam's Magazine.

You
better

Puck.

AN EXAMPLE SET THE YOUNG
How can Sea-urchins be brought up

To act by laws and rules?
Their Grampus swim on Sabbath day

Their Porpoise play in schools.

— E. L. Edholm in Overland Monthly.

UP AGAINST IT

Proprietor Bookshop (in Lallapoloosa, Ind.) :
"Look here, young man ! Why didn't you for-
ward the list of our six best-sellers to New York,
last week?"

The New Clerk . " 'Cause we only sold five,
sir." — Puck.

A DEFINITION.
A stick and a ball and a wee, small boy,

A whack, and the ball is off;
A walk of a mile; then do it again,
And that is the game of golf.

— E. J. Johnson in Lippincott's.

ALWAYS BEHIND
"I am strongly inclined to think that your
husband has appendicitis," said the physician.

"That's just like him," answered Mrs. Cumrox.
"He always waits till everything has pretty near
gone out of style before he decides to get it."

—Tit Bits.

OBJECTIVE POINTS
Stella: "Did you enjoy

your European trip, my dear?"
Bella : "Yes, indeed ; we

went to 117 souvenir post

cards." — Puck.

OTHER MEANS OF SUPPORT IN SIGHT
"Lazybones Lincoln is goin' to get married, maw."
"How you know dat? '
"He done throw up his job yesterday."

— From

Judge.

FORTUNES IN RISING COPPER PROFITS

HESE are money-making times. The
whole world is prosperous and pro-
gressive. But there is one particular
industry that is producing wealth far
more swiftly than any other. That
is the business of supplying the civilized nations
with the metals.

The United States produces two-thirds of all
the copper consumed in the world. Europe is
now as dependent on our copper as she is on our
cotton. Shut off the American supply of this
metal, and electrical progress would stop com-
pletely in France, Germany and Holland. The
scarcity of copper in all the civilized countries
amounts to practically a famine. The United
States is depended upon to supply this tremen-
dous, frantic demand. Here is the result:

In 1906, the copper product of the United
States will amount to $185,000,000. The dividends
of copper mines in the United States will reach
$58,000,000. Already during ten months of this
year dividends of American copper companies
have exceeded $48,000,000. The fact is that cop-
per mines are paying one-half the total dividends
paid by the entire mining industry. The money
difference between copper and gold in 1905 was
$60,000,000 in favor of copper.

For this important situation the extension of
the uses of electricity in trolley, telephone and
telegraph and the increase in the consumption of
brass (which is two-thirds copper) are directly
responsible. There is no boom. The only ques-
tion is, "Can the science of mining keep up with
the demand for this metal?" Three electrical
companies consume 250 million pounds a year.
The American Brass Company took 125 million
pounds in 1905. Germany's copper bill is $86,-
000,000 annually.

The growing consumption of this metal has
brought about one natural result. In a year the
price of copper has risen ten cents a pound. It
will continue to rise, for at the present rate of
consumption, the world will need twenty-four
billion pounds in the next score of years.

And the most fortunate fact in the whole situ-
ation is' that the millions of dividends from the
copper industry are being distributed every-
where throughout the United States to the men
and women , who own copper sto.cks.

The newest copper belt in the United States is
the Southwest — Arizona, Nevada and New Mexi-
co. There are scores of mines here which have
made many wealthy within four or five years.
Five years ago you could have bought 100 shares
of the Calumet & Arizona for from $125 to $350.
These shares are now worth from $14,000 to
$15,000. If you had bought 1,000 shares and paid
from $1,250 to $3,500 for them, you would now
be receiving in dividends $16,000 a year. You
could have sold out recently for $163,000 cash.

You could have purchased Nevada Consolidat-
ed a year ago around $1 a share. It has sold for
$20 a share. If you had invested $1,000, you could
have made a clear net profit of $19,000 in one

year. Or you could have held your stock and re-
ceived enormous dividends. These are only two
instances of the scores of great mineral successes
of the Southwest. There are many others as
striking and as significant.

As a wealth producer zinc is going to the
front with copper, and for the same reason — the
rapid increase in its consumption. Zinc pro-
ducers are paying splendid earnings. Twenty-
four million dollars was the yield in 1905 of
American zinc mines. Among the largest and
richest of the new copper and zinc properties of
the Southwest is the Kelly Mine of New Mexi-
co. Another which is interesting for many rea-
sons is the Starlight Mine of Arizona. Engineers
of distinguished ability state that these mines
will make astonishing records within a short time.

In these days of mineral activity it is neces-
sary to observe this fact: That to make tremen-
dous profits in mining — a fortune by a single
financial stroke — you must purchase shares from
a company which has proven large deposits of
the metals, and is offering its stock at a low
price to develop its property and purchase equip-
ment to greatly enlarge its operations and profits.
When a company has begun paying dividends, its
stock is held at just what it is worth as an interest
payer.

The men in control of the Tri-BuUion Smelt-
ing & Development Company, which owns the
Kelly and the Starlight Mines, recently offered
some of the company's shares for the purpose
of carrying out plans that would place them in
the front rank of producers. These shares were
at once sought by conservative interests'. If they
can now be had, their purchase is an unusual op-
portunity to share in the wonderful prosperity
of the metal producers. I suggest that you write
to Mr. John W. Dundee, Treasurer, 43 Exchange
Place, Suite 1510, New York, and ask him for
engineers' reports and information. These are
days of quick action. The real opportunities do
not remain open long.

The properties of the Tri-Bullion Company dif-
fer from many of those whose shares have been
offered to the public in that Tri-Bullion prop-
erties are producers, while many companies have
interests which have not been thus definitely
proven but which are only of a prospective value.
Such propositions are purely speculative. One
Tri-Bullion property is now making a large
daily net profit. New equipment being installed
will increase this to about $4,000 daily. This
is the best test of the actual value of a mineral
property, making its shares a more safe and cot:-
servative investment. The officers of the Com-
pany are men prominent in the mining world,
with ample experience in the operation of mines.
The immediate operation and development of
the mines is in the hands of skilled and success-
ful engineers. Both of these conditions are
necessary for the successful conduct of any min-
eral enterprise.— IVm. Edward Chapman.

"A LEADER WHO LEADS"

John Sharp Williams, of Yazoo, Mississippi, who marshals the forces on the Democratic side in the House of
Representatives, has a well defined presidential boom under way, especially in the South, but persists in treating it
with frivolous disrespect. He is a lawyer and a cotton planter, has considerable wealth, was educated at several
universities, including Heidelberg, and ms manners are "as easy and unpretentious as an old shoe."

Current Literature

Edward J. Wheeler, Editor
VOL. XLII, No. 2 Associate Editors : Leonard D. Abbott, Alexander Harvey
, George S. Viereck

FEBRDAET, 1907

A Review of the World

HE simmering of the presidential pot
is heard in the land. It is not boil-
ing-time, just simmering-time, for
the nominations will not be made
for sixteen or seventeen months. But the
politicians are at work and the prospective
candidates are putting out feelers here and
there. .Mr. Bryan has been heard from again,
and he is in a receptive mood. Mr. Taft
has been heard from, and he also is in a recep-
tive mood. President Woodrow Wilson has
made a statement that indicates a similar re-
ceptivity of disposition. Vice-President Fair-
banks has not been issuing any proclamations,
contenting himself at this stage with corralling
degelates, especially in the Southern states.
Senator Foraker is trying to rally the anti-
administration forces around himself as a cen-
ter, with the design presumably of being able
to dictate the next nomination even if he can-
not secure the prize for himself. The three
figures that loom largest on the Republican
side, not counting President Roosevelt, are
the two Ohio men, Taft and Foraker, and
Fairbanks, who is almost as much of an Ohian
as an Indianian. There are, of course, various
other "favorite sons" whose friends are doing
preliminary work in their behalf. John Sharp
Williams, Senator Daniels and ex-Governor
Francis are mentioned prominently on the Dem-
ocratic side, and Senator La Follette, Speaker
Cannon and Secretary Root on the Republican
side. Hearst is apparently eliminated, Sena-
tor Bailey likewise. Governor Hughes is re-
ferred to now and then as a possibility, and
hope of the renomination of President Roose-
velt is still clung to here and there.

if President Roosevelt can name his succes-
sor, he will name his portly secretary of
war. All the political maneuvers of the next
sixteen months in the Republican party will
be dominated by this one question: Is the
President to be allowed to name his successor?
Striving to secure a negative answer to this
question are found all the more conservative
forces in the party. The corporate interests
do not desire the continuation of the Roose-
velt policy. The Ohio senators and the ele-
ment now dominant in Ohio do not wish to
see Taft the nominee, because thereby the lead-
ership of the party in Ohio would again be
wrested from the hands of Senator Foraker
and his colleague Senator Dick. The fight
made over the discharge of the black soldiers
is important politically because it gives to the
opponents of the administration capital to fight
with in securing the delegates to the next na-
tional convention from the Southern states as
well as the delegates from those Northern
states where the negroes hold a balance of
power. In addition to the corporate power,
the various personal ambitions and the pro-
negro sentiment, the line-up against Taft in-
cludes the more rigid adherents of the protec-
tive tariff, who distrust him because of the
favor which he expressed a few months ago
for tariff revision and the activity he has
shown in behalf of a scaling down of the
tariff on Philippine products.

ONLY one contest can be said to be exciting
any marked attention at this stage of the
presidential canvass, and that is the one over
Secretary Taft. It is generally conceded that

/^N THE other hand, it remains a. question
^■^ to what extent the pro-administration
sentiment of the country can be rallied around
Secretary Taft. How far the President him-
self will try to interfere in the course of events
is uncertain. Nothing direct and unequivocal
has come from him or is expected to come
from him, out of consideration for the pro-
prieties of his position. The country is left

122

CURRENT LITERATURE

"I love it, I love it, and who shall dare

To chide me for loving that old arm-chair?"

— Morris in Spokesman-Review.

to infer his desires, first by the fact that he
has put Taft forward so prominently of late
as spokesman for his policy, second by Taft's
own statement made at the close of the year
to the efifect that his ambition is not political
and he sees objections to his availability, but
that he would not decline a nomination for
the Presidency "in the improbable event" that
it comes his way. It is assumed that this
statement had the approval of the President
or it would never have been made. Secretary
Root has also helped to establish the conclu-

sion that Secretary Taft is the first choice of
the Administration. Interviewed a couple of
months ago in Cincinnati, he remarked:
"When sizing up presidential timber, don't for
an instant lose sight of William H. Taft." The
question of Taft's availability, upon which he
himself with characteristic candor throws
doubt, is discussed in a rather gingerly fashion
by the better recognized Republican journals.
They are not committing themselves very free-
ly at this time, and according to some of the
Washington correspondents the President is
disappointed at the apparent lack of enthusiasm
with which Taft's statement has been received.
"Apparently," says the New York Times's
correspondent, "the President expected a great
wave of popular enthusiasm which would
check at the outset the schemes of the old-line
politicians who are plotting to control the next
National Convention against him. Nothing of
the sort happened and the President was ac-
cordingly disappointed." The same corre-
spondent, however, observes that there is not
apparent any good reason for the disappoint-
ment, as the statement "was received every-
where with approval, probably more approval
than would have been given the candidacy of
any other man in President Roosevelt's official
family or closely connected with him."

It is rumored that the skull and jawbone of the
g^ant prehistoric man recently discovered in Nebraska
will be named by the scientists "Oratorluspresidential-
candidatusagaino s. "

— Walker for Baltimore Syndicate.

CEVERAL of the New England journals
*^ are without any doubt as to Taft's avail-
ability. Says the Boston Herald (Ind.) :

"The Republican party would hardly venture
to nominate any man who has not been, in the
main, in sympathy with the President's policy
toward trusts and law-breaking corporations. On
these and kindred questions Secretary Taft has
occupied a safe and sane middle ground. His
character, temperament and judicial mind and
training would make him an acceptable candidate
to the large body of voters who want to preserve
and continue the really valuable work which
President Roosevelt has begun, without acceler-
ating the tendency to more extreme radicalism
on one hand or on the other heading a reaction
toward the old, corrupt] conservatism. . . .
Unless the President shall' sufifer an obvious loss
of popularity and prestige, his secretary of war
will be the most logical and available candidate."

The Connecticut Courant holds similar
views. It is positive that "Taft is the most
popular man mentioned ^or the place." It says :

"If the question were feft to the people, noth-
ing could prevent either his nomination or his
election. He has the complete confidence of the
country alike in his personal integrity and his
very large ability. He trusts the people and they
trust him. The fact that everybody concedes that
his nomination would mean his election puts him
in a class by himself. You don't hear that about
anybody else."

CAN THE PRESIDENT NAME HIS SUCCESSOR?

123

The New York Press, which voices the
opinions of the radical element in the party,
of which La Follette is the leader, thinks that
the reception given to Taft's statement
"palpably puts him in the lead of the avowed
candidates for the presidential nomination."

C EVERAL journals point out that while the
^ President's popularity remains unshaken,
his power will steadily decline as the time for
his term of office to expire draws near, and
that his ability to name his successor seventeen
months hence will be very doubtful. The
Washington correspondent of the New York
World, however, sees one card which Mr.
Roosevelt may play with tremendous effect
even then :

"There is another feature which the politicians
who are starting out in this campaign [against
the administration] apparently have not figured
on, and that is that if they are successful, if by
grabbing negro delegates and putting in favorite
sons and playing various games of this kind they
succeed in getting enough strength for the man
who in Mr. Roosevelt's opinion will be the wrong
man, they may force Mr. Roosevelt to abandon
his present position and jump in personally; and
if he does that all 'the politicians in the United
States cannot stop his nomination. Not only that^
but this movement needs a Hanna to engineer it,
and there is no Hanna in sight."

It may be remarked in passing that a body
calling itself "The Roosevelt Third Term
National League," with headquarters in Chi-
cago, has been sending out circulars in favor
of the President's renomination on the ground
that it is not the province of Theodore Roose-
velt to say he will or will not be President.
"He who acts as President acts solely as a
servant of the people and when called by them
must come."

THE attitude of Vice-President Fairbanks
in rehition to the Roosevelt policies and
the attitude of President Roosevelt toward the
presidential aspirations which the Vice-Presi-
dent is supposed to entertain remain largely
a matter of conjecture. The assumption is
generally made that Mr. Fairbanks is the can-
didate of the conservatives in the Repub-
lican party, yet there has never been any
indication of antagonism on his part to
the present administration. Says the Wash-
ington correspondent of the Chicago Even-
ing Post: "He has approved publicly the
work of Mr. Roosevelt as far as it has gone,
and no one must doubt his sincerity ; but hard-
ly any one holds to the belief that as a suc-
cessor of Roosevelt he would carry to their
logical conclusion the policies which the

THE FLYING MERCURY
Designed by Cuban admirers
— St. Louis Globe-Democrat.

President has in-
troduced." The
same observer
finds that the
South will be
solid for Mr.
Fairbanks in the
next convention,
that the signs
are "unfailing"
of the favor with
which he is re-
garded by the
corporate inter-
ests, that he has
"the best 'unor-
ganized organi-
zation' that ever
did duty for a

presidential candidate," and that he has been
in the last three years in nearly every state in
the Union, and "has made the most of his
travels." The correspondent adds:

"Many of the old party leaders, perhaps most
of them, never have been able to look upon the
new growth of public policies through the glasses
of Mr. Roosevelt. Most of these old party leaders
are still in office, and all of them are still in poli-
tics. They are a tower of strength when it conies
to getting delegates. These men are for Fair-
banks for President. They will not go to the end
of sacrificing their own futures for the cause oi
the Vice-President, but they will support him
through the campaign preceding the national con-
vention, provided Mr. Fairbanks can show that
he has any hold on the affections of the people.
In both houses of Congress a majority of the
Republican members is of the old pre-Roosevelt
school of conservatism. This majority is in favor
of the nomination of Mr. Fairbanks, and in a
quiet way is doing its work for the Vice-Presi-
dent while the friends of the other candidates
seemingly are content to sleep."

l^<^^jte

rmSil^P'^^^

'HI^^'V^v /{'ifyini A

^^^k\M

^^SP'

^^r

//■'/

w^^^

•SECRETARY TAFT SAYS HE IS IN THE HANDS
OF HIS FRIENDS"

— Brinkerhoff in Toledo Blade.

124

CURRENT LITERATURE

William Alden Smith, the new Senator from Mich-
igan, has been regarded as one of the ablest men in
Congress. "Not 'Uncle Joe' himself," says one paper,
"exemplified in more decided form both the virtues
and the faults of that remarkable body." He beat
two millionaire candidates for his new office, being
himself a man of moderate means.

Joseph Moore Dixon, Senator-elect from Montana,
is in his fortieth year, and has been a Republican
member of the House of Representatives at Wash-
ington for the past three years.* His profession is
that of a lawyer, and by birth he is a North Caro-
linan. Like most men in the breezy West, he is self-
made, but he had the advantage of having received a
college education, and he learned the art of hustling,
which some one has said is the first of all arts in the
achievement of political success. He acquired his
first distinction in a political way serving as a prose-
cuting attorney in his adopted state.

SOME NEW SENATORS

^'^RE we drifting toward a monarchy?
The question was asked in Wash-
ington's day, again in Jackson's
day, again in Grant's day, and now
it is asked in Roosevelt's day. It has
usually been raised for partizan or per-
sonal reasons, and has a flavor of demagogism
about it. But it is being propounded to-day
in a different spirit, and President Roosevelt's
own secretary. of state, in his already famous
speech made in New York City a few weeks
ago, to which we referred last month, has
done perhaps more than any other one man
to direct the thoughts of the country to this
subject. Not that Secretary Root used the
word monarchy. His word was "centraliza-
tion," and his speech was one of warning,
not against any particular man or particular
party, but against a trend in political affairs
for which he held the state governments re-
sponsible irrespective of party. That trend is
admitted on all sides. But the responsibility
for it is a subject of earnest discussion which
is to-day the most marked feature in American
politics. By many the term "executive

usurpation" is freely used as indicating the
reason for our centralizing tendencies, and
Secretary Root's speech is regarded as an
apology rather than a warning, — an apology
for the abounding activities of the Vesuvian
gentleman whose address is the White House.
By others, the cause of the centralizing ten-
dency is held to be the vast development of
corporate activities beyond the power of con-
trol by the state governments, and the disre-
gard shown by our "kings of finance" and
"captains of industry" for considerations
other than financial.

A TTACKS upon Roosevelt as a "usurper"
■**• and a "menace to industry" are not as
open and free as they were a year ago in
Washington; but this fact is not attributed to
any less hostility on the part of senators and
corporations. "There are unmistakable
signs," says one of the Washington corre-
spondents, "that active antagonism to what is
considered usurpation of power by the Execu-
tive will be witnessed soon in Congress. Many
Congressmen hold that it is time to call a

ARE WE DRIFTING TOWARD MONARCHY?

Charles Curtis, of Kansas, is the son of a full-
blooded Kaw Indian mother, and will be the first of
his race to sit in the United States Senate. He used
to run a peanut stand in Topeka, then became a haclc
driver and at the same time studied law, being ad-
mitted to the bar when twenty-one. He has been
elected to the House of Representatives ei^ht _ times.
He is still a member of the Kaw tribe, and is listened
to with deep respect in their council chamber. He
has a fine voice and is a ready speaker. He has the
erect Indian figure, black eyes and swarthy com-
plexion.

FROM WESTERN STATES

Simon Guggenheim, the new Senator from Cotorado,
is a multimillionaire, and his election has revived the
cry of "Plutocracy." He says: "If I go to the
senate, it will not be to represent the smelting com-
pany or any other company, or any interest. I will
go as a citizen to represent the people of Colorado."

halt on what they contend is a dangerous
trend toward absolutism." Various plans for
carrying out this purpose have been consid-
ered and dropped, and except for Senators
Foraker and Scott, the Senators are repre-
sented as actually cowed by their experiences
a year ago and by the marked favor with
which the voters of the country sustained the
President's friends and punished his enemies
in the recent elections. Even the Democratic
Senators are represented as sharing in this
feeling. If they read the Democratic journals
diligently they may well share in it. One of
the boldest of the Senators, in his criticism
of the President last year, was Senator Ray-
ner, of Maryland. The leading Democratic
paper of that state, the Baltimore Sun, has
recently published a long editorial entitled
"Jackson and Roosevelt," in which the latter's
likeness to the idol of Democracy is dwelt
upon. Here is an extract:

"There is a striking resemblance between Jack-
son and Roosevelt in their will-power and in
their determination to accomplish results, and at
times Jackson, like Roosevelt, seemed to entertain

a somewhat contemptuous opinion of the Consti-
tution when it got in his way. In New Orleans
Jackson arrested a judge when he interfered with
the public order and welfare and declared martial
law. Roosevelt has denounced the courts when
the decisions did not suit him. At the great
Jefferson dinner in 1830 Jackson wrote the toast :
"Our Federal Union — It must be preserved," and
when it was threatened by South Carolina he was
determined to preserve it without stopping to in-
quire whether South Carolina was acting within
her constitutional rights or not. In his present
attitude toward the State of California the Presi-
dent out-Jacksons Jackson. . . . No President
since Jackson has had such influence over Con-
gress as Roosevelt has; no President since Jack-
son exercised such domination over his own party
as Roosevelt has.

"In one important particular, however, which
goes to the very root of character, these two
men are an absolute contrast. Jackson was direct,
blunt and sincere. There was no deviousness nor
shadow of turning about him. Mr. Roosevelt,
while he is a statesman, is at the same time one
of the most adroit politicians in our public life."

/^NE direct frontal attack is made upon the
^^ President. It is found in a Republican
paper, the New York Sun, whose deepest feel-

126

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE PRESIDENT SENDS A FEW MESSAGES TO
CONGRESS
— McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune.

ings in the last few years have been those of
hostility to the labor unions. It finds in Mr.
Roosevelt's attitude toward the unions and in
his attitude toward vast aggregations of capi-
tal cause for sweeping criticism. It acquits

him of any deliberate design to produce cer-
tain results, but it nevertheless holds him re-
sponsible for the results which it sets forth as
follows :

"Look at the state of the country. Class is
arrayed against class. The relations between the
employer and the employed are destroyed and
enmity and hatred have taken their place. The
rich are held up to universal execration and are
assailed in the pillory which Mr. Roosevelt has
built for them. All over the land there is im-
patience with the law and intolerance of Judges.
The constituted authorities are set at de-
fiance. . . .

"From whom did the people derive their new
found hatred of wealth?

"Who seduced organized labor from the paths
of industry and sanity? Who became its self-
constituted champion when he wanted to secure
its votes? Who joined a union and prostituted
himself and his high place in his lust for office?

"To whom do we owe the growing contempt
for the law and the widespread impatience with
its processes and disrespect of its officers that we
see throughout the country? Can a more shock-
ing or dangerous example be set before the peo-
ple than that of the President of the United
States rebuking an honest Judge for rendering an
opinion according to the laws and according to
his conscience, which opinion was distasteful to
him, the President, personally? . . .

"When the President of the United States in-
veighs against wealth and casts about publicly for
means to pull it down he invites violence. His
idea implies violence, and the imagination of the
people, already most unwisely inflamed, will give
practical issue to it.

"A reaction in our prosperity may not be due
for some time, but Mr. Roosevelt is seemingly
bent on precipitating it."

ONWARD I

— B. S. in Columbia State.

nPHIS comes as near to being an authori-
•*• tative public expression as we can find of
what may be termed the Wall street view of
the President. It is reinforced in The Sun
later on by a long letter signed "Republican,"
from which we quote as follows:

"More thoroughly Bryanistic [than the Presi-
dent's attitude toward railways] even is the man-
ner in which for the last two years Roosevelt has
been fomenting class hatred. Murder, arson and
dynamiting accompanied the great coal strike and
were known to be the work of sympathizers there-
with. At almost the very time when members
of one miners' union was being banqueted at the
White House fifteen men were dynamited in Col-
orado by the friends of another miners' union,
and it has been shown conclusively that a large
number of trade unions refuse to allow their
members to serve in the militia of their own
States. Has the President ever warned the peo-
ple of the danger and tryanny of these associa-
tions? Instead, all his invectives have been re-
served for obnoxious capitalists, who must be
crushed at any cost, until it is largely due to his
persistent attacks upon one class of his subjects
that at the present time the cheapest way of at-
taining popularity (as some of our magazines
have discovered) is to abuse all the rich and

Courtesy of Pearson's Magazine

TO REMIND THE SENATE IN YEARS TO COME

This powerful portrait bust of President Roosevelt is now being made for the United States Senate
by James E. Fraser, the distinguished young sculptor suggested by Augustus St. Gaudens for the work.
Mr. Fraser has succeeded in catching Mr. Roosevelt's characteristics in a quite wonderful way and in
imbuing the clay with a sense of his rugged force. The above view shows the President's left profile
and straight backhead, which are unfamiliar to the American public.

128

CURRENT LITERATURE

prominent. All this is consistent Bryanism, but
even Bryan's diatribes 'pale their ineffectual fires'
before Roosevelt's latest proposition to confiscate
such fortunes as are in his inerrant opinion of
unhealthy size. I doubt if history recalls another
instance of a riiler deliberately endeavoring to
injure a certain class of his subjects without re-
gard to their guilt or innocence."

TYTALL STREET has a phrase, so James
*^ Creelman tells us (in Pearson's Maga-
zine), in w^hich it sums up its opinion of the
President. Its phrase is: "Theodore the Med-
dler," and its opinion is that he is the most
meddlesome President the nation has ever
had. To his "meddling" is thought to be due
the loosing on the American continent of
"wild forces of political, economic and social
revolution." Mr. Roosevelt, says Mr. Creel-
man, is a meddler. He has meddled, for in-
stance, w^ith the financial-political plans of
Mr. Harriman and his accomplices. He med-
dled with the attempt of James J. Hill and J.
Pierpont Morgan to unite the railways of the
northwest in the illegal Northern Securities
Company. He has meddled with the meat-
packers and with the manufacturers of adul-
terated foods. But Roosevelt as President
does not differ a whit from Roosevelt as gov-
ernor, Roosevelt as civil service commis-
sioner, Roosevelt as police commissioner,
and Roosevelt as a member of as-
sembly. He has been a meddler since boy-
hood. It is in his blood. But his has been
intelligent meddling and the only difference
in him now is that he has the power to make
his "meddling" efifectual. And the deepest
cause of hatred for him in the breasts of the
Harrimans, Rockefellers, Rogerses, Arch-
bolds, Morgans, Hills, and all their kind, is
that he was determined to prove and has
proved the supremacy of the government over
Wall street and its ability to enact or enforce
law against the opposition of any combination
of wealth or cunning whatever; and proved
it not in secret but in sight of the whole peo-
ple. Mr. Creelman adds:

"The strangest thing of all is that Wall street
ignores the equally significant fact that Mr.
Roosevelt has set his face against the political
truculence and brow-beating of labor unions, and
against rioting or any kind of lawlessness done
in the name of organized labor, as sternly as he
has compelled the great corporations to recognize
the unquestionable sovereignty of the law and the
Government. . . .

"There are those who believe that the Presi-
dent of the United States should be a man of
slow, conservative temperament. But these are
times which call for dynamic force, for moral
rage, as it were, to break through the thousand
subtle thralls which have been woven about the

hands and feet of civilization. And if Mr. Roose-
velt hurls the weight of his great office against
the evils which stand in the way of American
progress, if he moves sometimes with a suggestion
of violence, heart and mind in a fury of earnest-
ness, it is because he has investigated deeply,
knows the real facts, appreciates the danger of
delay in a country governed by popular suffrage,
is constantly face to face with a blind, sordid
greed whose resistance can only be overcome by
shock, and has made up his mind to save legiti-
mate wealth in spite of itself."

TYTHETHER Mr. Creelman's interpretation
'^ of the Wall street view and of the rea-
sons for it is right or wrong, it is generally
admitted that this is the interpretation the
country at large has come to accept, and even
the critics of the President confess their in-
ability to see any lessening of his popularity.
President Eliot, of Harvard, is reported as
saying of Mr. Roosevelt that he "has never
grown up." Commenting on this the New
York Times says:

"The impulse to which we have referred, the
delight of exercise of inherent powers, is most
fresh and energetic in youth. Mr. Roosevelt ap-
plies to the analysis of any moral question to
which he turns his attention his keen mental
force with much the same spirit that a healthy
lad runs and jumps and wrestles on an errand to
which a man of fifty would go soberly and with
no needless expenditure of effort. He cannot
help it. It is the imperious demand of a nature
still abounding in vigor and spring. What dis-
tinguishes him from others of like temperament
is the direction his activity takes. It is the
ethical bent in his mind. He thinks and feels as
to most things in terms of right and wrong. Un-
doubtedly he likes power, and it would be absurd
to contend — he would not do it himself — that he
is utterly free from ambition, or vanity, or a cer-
tain degree of selfishness ; but he instinctively sees
the moral side of affairs and reaches a judgment
with regard to it, which he maintains with the
utmost firmness. He may be hasty. He may be
blinded by the intensity of his own sentiments.
But it is that side of things that appeals to him
and excites him and keeps him excited."

A WRITER in the Saturday Evening Post
•**■ (Philadelphia) comments in a humorous
vein on this abounding energy and breadth of
intellectual sympathy displayed by the Presi-
dent. Whitehouseitis, we are informed, is a
disease that is epidemic all the time the Presi-
dent is in W^ashington. To quote further:

"Conferences at the White House are all sur-
prise parties. Talk about tunnel workers having
the bends! People who go to see the President
are likely to come out with so many new ideas
beaten into them that they make a person who
has been subject to the ministrations of com-
pressed air look like a girl in a white dress sit-
ting on a stoop on a summer afternoon. The
President talks about anything that interests

MARK TWAIN ON SECRETARY ROOTS SPEECH

129

him; and everything does interest him, from the
right way to crook the tail of a Boston terrier to
the proper policy to be pursued at The Hague
!?eace Conference. He has theories on all sub-
jects, from the exact way a hen should lay an
egg to the ultimate destiny of the Anglo-Saxon
race, and he'll turn them on at any moment."

As to the President's popularity, the same
writer expresses in an exaggerated manner
the prevailing view^. He writes:

"The rural view of Congress is that it is a lot
of fellows who are mad because the President is
there watching them and keeping them in the
straight and narrow path. The old precept that
'the king can do no wrong' is getting to be
orthodox doctrine in the West. If the President
were to go out and tear down the Washington
Monument the people would say : 'Well, the
blamed thing ought to have been round instead of
square, anyhow,' and if the fancy seized him to
burn the White House the country would ap-
plaud and shout for as many millions as he liked
to build a new one according to his own designs.

"They don't understand this in the Senate.
They remind me of a lot of antique St. Bernards
barking at the moon. They lay a trap for the
President and he gayly walks into it, and they
stand around and say: 'Now — now we've got
him !' Then they listen for the kind applause
from the proletariat, and it never comes. Instead,
they get a roar of: 'Them scoundrels down there
in the Senate is tryin' to hender the President,
but he'll fix 'em !' You'd think after more than
five years of this sort of thing the Senate would
wake up and acknowledge that a few of the
eighty millions of people in this country believe
in the President. They won't, though. It takes
more than five years to get the Senate out of a
trance."

VTOT President Roosevelt, but a far more
^ ^ uncontrollable force is pushing us along
on the path to monarchy, namely the force of
circumstances. That is the view of Mark
Twain, put forth in all seriousness in last
month's North American Review. Unavoid-
able and irresistible circumstance, he thinks,
will gradually take away the powers of the
states and concentrate them in the central
government, and then the Republic will repeat
the history' of all time and become a mon-
archy. Mark is stirred to these reflections by
Secretary Root's recent speech and especially
by the following sentences in that speech:

"Our whole life has swung away from the old
State centers, and is crystallizing about national
centers."

" . . . . The old barriers which kept the
States as separate communities are completely lost
from sight."

" . . . . That [State] power of regulation
and control is gradually passing into the hands
of the national government."

"Sometimes by an assertion of the inter-State
commerce power, sometimes by an assertion of

the taxing power, the national government is tak-
ing up the performance of duties which under the
changed conditions the separate States are no
longer capable of adequately performing."

"We are urging forward in a development of
business and social life which tends more and
more to the obliteration of State lines and the
decrease of State power as compared with
national power."

"It is useless for the advocates of State rights
to inveigh ag&tfist . . . the extension of na-
tional authority in the fields of necessary control
where the State themselves fail in the perform-
ance of their duty."

Mark's comment on all this is as follows:

"Human nature being what it is, I suppose we
must expect to drift into monarchy by and by.
It is a saddening thoueht, but we cannot change
our nature : we are all alike, we human beings ;
and in our blood and bone, and ineradicable, we
carry the seeds out of which monarchies and
aristocracies are grown : worship of gauds, titles,
distinctions, power. We have to worship these
things and their possessors, we are all born so,
and we cannot help it. We have to be despised
by somebody whom we regard as above us, or we
are not happy; we have to have somebody to
worship and envy, or we cannot be content. In
America we manifest this in all the ancient and
customary ways. In public we scoflF at titles and
hereditary privilege, but privately we hanker after
them, and when we get a chance we buy them
for cash and a daughter. Sometimes we get a
good man and worth the price, but we are ready
to take him anyway, whether he be ripe or rotten,
whether he be clean and decent, or merely a
basket of noble and sacred and long-descended
offal. And when we get him the whole nation
publicly chaffs and scoffs — and privately envies;
and also is proud of the honor which has been
conferred upon us. We run over our list of titled
purchases every now and then, in the newspapers,
and discuss them and caress them, and are thank-
ful and happy."

THE view of Secretary Root that the failure
of the state governments to exercise
their powers in any adequate way for the pro-
tection of the people's rights is responsible for
the increase of federal powers was expressed
nearly a year ago by Speaker Cannon. As
quoted in the Chicago Tribune Mr. Cannon
said : "In my judgment the danger now to us is
not the weakening of the federal government,
but rather the failure of the forty-five sovereign
states to exercise respectively their function,
their jurisdiction, touching all matters not
granted to the federal government." The
Tribune expresses its regret at the tendency
toward centralization, but considers it inevit-
able. But the process should "be extremely
slow and deliberate," for otherwise the federal
government will become so overloaded with
work that it will be able to do nothing effi-
ciently. The Philadelphia Press also uses the

130

CURRENT LITERATURE

SOME INTERESTING STUDIES

word "inevitable" in speaking of the tendency.
It says :

"The tendency to nationalism has been insep-
arable from modern growth. Mr. Root portrays
the causes with a rapid and vivid touch. En-
larged human interests and intercommunication
have altogether overleaped State lines. The great
agencies of activity can stop at State boundaries
no more than at county boundaries. Thus the
question of regulating railroad rates, when ithe
railroads cross State lines, is one with which the
States cannot adequately deal. The Federal anti-
trust law, the anti-rebate law, the Federal laws on
meat inspection, oleomargarine and pure food
laws are also of this character. Congress was
compelled to legislate because legislation had be-
come a prime necessity and the State could not
supply it effectively. . . . The movement is a
natural evolution. It has preceded and must pro-

THE POWER OF THE EXECUTIVE

131

IN PRESIDENTIAL FACIAL EXPRESSION

ceed only within constitutional lines. It cannot
be stopped so long as there is a great public wrong
without a legal remedy, and which in its conse-
quences reaches beyond State boundaries."

THE Atlanta Journal voices its fear of the
centralizing process, especially of that
part of it that increases the power of the
Executive, in the following language:

"In itself it necessarily leads, this policy, to the
further strengthening of the powers of the chief
executive ; to further government by the executive
at Washington and his advisers. Mr. Roosevelt
has gone a long way on that road already. It is
a great deal easier for the people to accept laws
from a law-giver, if they are good laws, than for
them to make them for themselves; and every
race has had its period of laziness when it ac-

132

CURRENT LITERATURE

cepted good laws from a good ruler in content.
But afterwards comes always an unwise, a weak,
a personally ambitious, or an unscrupulous ruler;
this latter finds the popular initiative weakened
by sloth, and he does what he pleases.' Mr.
Roosevelt's policy of centralization, if carried out
logically, would gradually make way for an es-
sential change in the character of the government,
although the form of government might be
longer in changing. There is no immediate dan-
ger of this republic ceasing to be a republic in
spirit; but there is a danger of sowing seeds in
the present which will spring up into a trouble-
some crop of weedy problems for posterity."

The whole subject, observes the Philadel-
phia Ledger, is "of transcendent importance,
since it really involves our whole conception
of the nature and purpose of government and
the maintenance of our constitutional system
or its transformation into a system altogether
different."

confident that the President will restore him
to the service.

WM,

[ROUND the dusky form of Sergeant
Mingo Sanders is probably to be
waged the rest of the battle con-
Eiff"? '^il cerning the discharge of the black
battalion. Two features of the case are as
good as settled by the latest message of the
President on the subject. By revoking that
part of his first order that debarred the dis-
charged soldiers from civil employment, the
President has nearly eliminated the ques-
tion raised as to his constitutional power. The
additional sworn evidence submitted to the
Senate with that message seems to establish
beyond all cavil the fact that the midnight
shooting in Brownsville was done by soldiers
of the battalion, not by civilians. But the
issue that remains and that is personified in
the figure of Sergeant Sanders is the question
of personal justice to soldiers who did not
take part in the raid, and who deny having
knowledge that might lead to the detection of
those who did take part. Mingo Sanders has
served in the army twenty-six years. In May,
1908, he would have retired for age on a pen-
sion of $35.00 a month. He has been honorably
discharged eight times, and has re-enlisted
each time. His papers of discharge bear tes-
timony to his efficiency as a soldier. He has
seen service in the Indian fights, in Cuba, and
in the Philippines. His character is declared
by Senator Foraker to be "excellent" San-
ders has been in Washington working for his
reinstatement, and has filed in the War Depart-
ment affidavits that he did not participate in
the raid and does not know who did. The
correspondents represent him as dazed and
crushed by his discharge without honor, but

A SIDE from the game of politics that is
•**• supposed to enter into this contest with
the administration which some of the Sena-
tors have made on this affair, the question of
personal justice for Sanders and others in a
like situation is the one feature that still calls
forth criticism from journals that are not
usually hostile to the President's policy. The
New York World is not fond of Foraker, and
thinks his motives are personal and selfish.
But it says:

"Mingo Sanders is not bothering his head
about what candidate the negro delegates to the
Republican National Convention in 1908 will fol-
low. He is not scheming to capture the negro
vote, North or South. After twenty-five years'
faithful service he wants to re-enlist. He and
his companions of the Twenty-fifth Infantry who
are innocent have a right to have their military
records corrected. They want their cases judged
on their merits, not on impulse or prejudice. To
make them pawns in the game of politics would
ruin their hopes and serve in justifying an Execu-
tive lynching."

The New York Times admits that the new
testimony is "altogether conclusive" that the
raid was made by soldiers; but it holds that
the testimony is by no means conclusive that
knowledge of the raid and of those partici-
pating in it "must have been" in the posses-
sion of all the soldiers of the battalion. "It
was upon this theory," says The Times, "that
is, the theory that all the negro soldiers knew
of the firing and knew the names of the guilty,
that the President proceeded when he dis-
missed the three companies. This is the weak
point in his defense of an act which he is per-
fectly satisfied is within his Constitutional
authority."

"nPHE President not only discharged with-
•*• out trial the innocent and the guilty,"
says the Springfield Republican, "he punished
without trial." The Philadelphia Ledger does
not believe that in the history of the nation
there is a parallel to the President's argument
as found in his statement : "Many of its old
soldiers who had nothing to do with the raid
must know something tangible as to the iden-
tity of the criminals." In other words, says
The Ledger, the basis for this drastic proce-
dure of punishing innocent men by wholesale
is a belief harbored in the mind of the Presi-
dent and a few officers. "Was ever govern-
ment so conducted on the principle of guess-
work?" Says the New York Sun:

AGAIN THE BLACK BATTALION

133

"The issue is one of simple justice to American
soldiers who are also American citizens. Men
charged with the crimes which these soldiers are
said to have committed are clearly entitled to a
trial before some competent tribunal. They have
been tried neither by military court-martial nor
before the criminal courts of Texas. A local
Grand Jury found no ground on which to indict
them. The issue is distinctly legal and in no way
either personal or political, and those features
should be entirely eliminated."

r VEN assuming that a number of the sol-
'—* diets were innocent, what else could the
President have done under the circumstances,
with the evidence available, but discharge the
whole battalion in the public interest? This
question is answered as follows by the New
York Times:

"If the President had put the three companies
under detention, if he had begun a rigorous in-
quiry, prolonged for months, if necessary, open-
ing up every discoverable source of evidence and
neglecting no means of getting at the truth in
order that the riotous spirit and murderous acts
of the soldiers might be duly punished, the coun-
try would have said that he had gone about the
task in the right way. By his hasty dismissal of
all the soldiers of the three companies he made
a searching investigation impossible and cheated
justice by the' infliction of a miserably insufficient
penalty upon the guilty. That was the President's
worst mistake, and that it was a mistake he is not
yet ready to admit."

The answer made by the Springfield Re-
publican to the same question is:

"If the government could do nothing besides this
[punish the innocent with the guilty] then it
should have done nothing. If it cannot discover
the culprits, then it has nothing to do but wait
until it can discover them, before inflicting pen-
alties for violation of laws or discipline. It can,
however, redistribute suspected soldiers in other
commands and thus minimize their power for
further mischief. One live detective, meanwhile,
might work wonders in securing evidence, if he
could be let loose among them."

"The Assistant Attorney-General, who col-
lected the new evidence at Brownsville, was told
to go there and get it; and there are many citi-
zens of that place who were only too glad to give
him what he wanted. His hearings were, more-
over, secret. What is now needed is a public in-
vestigation, with opportunities for cross-examining
the witnesses, to ascertain if the murderers were
actually soldiers, or negroes and white 'men
dressed in khaki clothes.' "

ONE of the few journals that has not been
convinced by the President's latest evi-
dence that the shooting was done by negroes
is the New York Evening Post. It still at-
taches weight to the evidence collected by the
Constitutional League — a negro organization.
The League's contention has been that the ne-
groes were victims of a conspiracy, and that
there was ground for belief that the shooting
was done by white men who had blackened
their faces, put on cast-ofif uniforms of the
soldiers, picked up clips from the rifle range
and then strewed them around in the streets
on the night of the shooting. Referring to
this theory The Evening Post remarks :

HTHE President, however, submitted to the
■'■ Senate, with his latest message, not only
cartridge clips but loaded cartridges picked
up in the streets of Brownsville which are de-
clared by the experts of the ordnance bureau
to be manufactured exclusively for the gov-
ernment, and for use in the Springfield rifle
only, of the model of 1903, — the rifles used by
the troops. Moreover, bullets were found as
follows (we quote from Secretary Taft's re-
port accompanying the message) :

"Three bullets were extracted, one in the pres-
ence of Major Blocksom at the Gowan House,
one by Major Blocksom from the Yturria House,
and one by Mr. Garza from his own house, on
the southeast corner of the alley and Fourteenth
Street. Each of these bullets was of the weight
and size of bullets used in the Springfield am-
munition and bears the four marks of the lands
or raised parts between the grooves of the rifling.
The rifling of the Winchester rifle, 1905, into
which the shells of the size of the Springfield
rifle shells would fit, has six lands, so that the
bullets could not have been fired out of the Win-
chester rifle. The bullets, however, were about
the same size as the Krag-Jorgensen bullet, and
had the same mark of the lands, which is four
in number; but, as already said, the shells found
would not enter the Krag-Jorgensen chamber by
an inch, and the evidence indicates that there was
but one Krag-Jorgensen rifle in the neighbor-
hood of Brownsville, and that was owned by a
witness who testified. The evidence is conclusive
that there were no guns except the Springfield
guns which would discharge the bullets from the
cartridges found."

EVIDENCE of a "conspiracy of silence"
extending to all or practically all the sol-
diers of the battalion is not direct but indirect
and inferential. The facts as elicited by the
sworn testimony of "four or five" witnesses is
that the firing began inside the garrison,
some of it from the upper galleries or porches
of the barracks. Then the soldiers to the
number of fifteen or twenty emerged from the
garrison, divided into two squads, and pro-
ceeded by diflferent routes, shooting into houses
as they went. The alignment of bullet holes
in the houses along the garrison road, says
Secretary Taft's report, show that the bullets
were fired from inside the garrison wall and

134

CURRENT LITERATURE

some of them from the second story of the
barracks. Says the Secretary:

"What took place on the porches and just back
of the barracks, the volleying, the noise, the as-
sembly of the men, and the walking along the
porches, could not have taken place without
awakening and attracting the attention of all who
were in the barracks, privates, and non-commis-
sioned officers, whether asleep or not, and it is ut-
terly impossible that they should not have been
aware of what was going on when the firing con-
tinued for at least eight or ten minutes thereafter.
That a guard which was on watch, with a ser-
geant in charge, 400 feet from where the first
firing took place, should not have been aware that
this was the work of their comrades is utterly
impossible."

TTHE President's own conclusions from the
■■• evidence is that "it is well nigh nnpossi-
ble that any of the non-commissioned officers
who were at the barracks should not have
known what occurred." That, of course, in-
cludes Mingo Sanders. A negro preacher in
Boston, Rev. A. Clayton Powell, defending
the soldiers even for the conspiracy of silence,
says :

"The President promised to turn the guilty
over to the State of Texas. He knew when he
made the promise that within forty-eight hours
after they were turned over to the Texas authori-
ties they would be burned at the stake and their
charred bones sold for souvenirs. Under these
conditions who can blame them if they did 'stand
together in a determination to resist. the detection
of the guilty' ? If the few who may know should
become backdoor tattlers and betray their com-
rades they would bring down on their heads the
withering curses of all mankind."

An interesting point is brought out by the
New York Sun regarding the character of the
population of Brownsville. It is "not a
Southern community," we are assured. Aside
from the Mexicans, who form the numerical-
ly preponderating element, the white popula-
tion is almost wholly of Northern birth or ex-
traction. Says The Sun:

"As a rule, the men who represent the financial,
social, and material importance of the town are
old soldiers of the Union army and their descend-
ants. Considered in mere numbers, the South-
erners making their homes in Brownsville
represent a very small minority. . . . The
assumption that Brownsville is a typical 'Southern
community,' where everybody hates the negro and
delights in subjecting him to injury and humilia-
tion will not bear a moment's honest and en-
lightened inquiry. The truth is that Brownsville,
so far as concerns the character, influence and
importance of its constituent elements, is much
more a 'Northern community' than is either
Chicago or New York."

enlisting negro regiments is a wise one.- Rep-
resentative Slayden, of Texas, has introduced
a bill for the disbandment of all the black reg-
iments, and he has culled from the records
numerous incidents of disorder in the history
of those regiments. Four other cases similar
to the Brownsville raid are on the records of
the Twenty-fifth regiment, and a number of
such cases darken the record of the Ninth and
Tenth Cavalry. Even since the Brownsville
raid serious disturbances have been created at
EI Reno and Fort Leavenworth by the col-
ored troopers, and all the black regiments in
the country have been ordered to be ready to
sail for the Philippines between March 5 and
June 5 of this year. The enlistment of negro
regiments dates back to 1866, when the army
was reduced to a peace footing, and the four
regiments now in the service — two of infan-
try and two of cavalry — have a continuous
history of forty years. On the average, ac-
cording to the Springfield Republican, their
record has been as good as that of the white
regiments. In the matters of gambling and
fighting among themselves they have beeh
worse than the white soldiers. The records
of frontier campaigns are filled with thrilling
incidents in which the black troops partici-
pated. Says The Republican:

"With the disappearance of the old frontier in
the United States, which was coincident substan-
tially with the Spanish war, the negro soldiers
have become more a part of the garrison of civi-
lization in the various parts of the country. Since
the Spanish war, it may be said, and since then
only, has the disposition of these troops become
troublesome to the government. It is a new
question of army administration, comparatively
speaking, and to assume that it is one impossible
of satisfactory adjustment would be a flagrant
illustration of premature judgment. The colored
race in America has earned by hard service in
toilsome march and bloody field the right to serve
under the flag. The black regiments have corne
up and through the furnace of war and they will
stay with the colors."

AGITATION of this Brownsville incident
has led to consideration of the much
broader question whether the present plan of

TTHE New York Independent, however,
* thinks it would be well if there were no
colored regiments and if instead colored men
were admitted as soldiers in all regiments.
The segregation of negroes into separate regi-
ments is a discrimination on account of color
and race, and "the army should know of no
caste." The New Orleans Times-Democrat
is for the elimination of negro soldiers alto-
gether. It says:

"There is one proper solution of the problem,
and only one. The army should be promptly and
permanently rid of its negro commands, and the
negro regiments should be reorganized by the en-
listment of white troops. Many communities

THE HARRIMAN REVELATIONS

135

THE LATEST VICTIM OF THE EARTHQUAKE
hrn,.^'?^i-*''"V Jamaica, is a city of misfortunes. Cholera, hurricane, fire and now earthquake have in turn
aUurm enchan'tres" ^ loveliness of nature seem for the time like the false smile on the face of an

have protested against the stationing of negro
commands in their vicinage, for the very good
reason that these commands,, instead of being a
protection, are a threat. . . . The negro com-
mands in the army are a menace to the country,
and a disturbing influence wherever they are
stationed, and it will be little short of an out-
rage if the authorities do not take cognizance of
the fact. Punitive methods having failed, abso-
lute abolition of the negro commands is necessary
not only to the reputation of the army but to the
peace of the country."

* *
AMAICA, through the medium of
the earthquake that wrecked her
capital last month, affords the latest
illustration of that steadily increas-
ing lateral pressure acting on a long and rela-
tively weak shore line to which the seismic
convulsions of the past year are ascribed by
scientists. The loveliest island of all the Carib-
bean was metaphorically picked up and shaken
to pieces from a point of which Kingston
formed the center of energy. Not that the
experience was a first taste of misfortune for
Jamaica. Her dates, it has been well said,
are epochs, not numerals. The island calen-
dar reckons from the cholera rebellion, the
hurricane years, the slavery emancipation
crisis, the great Kingston fire and the cyclone
summer. The cyclone fatality occurred some
three years ago. It entailed a monetary loss
of $12,000,000. The earthquake, if we are
to accept the first estimates at hand, will cost
Jamaica three times that sum. But as, in the
case of the cyclone disasters, there was a ten-
dency to sensationalism in the dispatches; it
may be that the earthquake, tho a real calam-

ity, is not of so overwhelming a character as
people in the United States have been led to
imagine. As regards property, no town or
village has been "wiped out" in a literal sense,
as was at first reported; but scarcely a house
or church or public building within the earth-
quake radius escaped without some damage.
Kingston's loss has been greatest in compari-
son with that experienced by towns like Port
Antonio, Manchioneal, Port Maria and Fal-
mouth. It is in the country districts, however,
that the distress has been most extensive. The
houses of the peasantry are frail structures
of wattle and mud, roofed with palm thatch.
Many are placed upon precarious foundations.
Scores of these were knocked down or lifted
bodily into the air — a lively demonstration of
the vehemence of this natural convulsion.

HE nerves of the country, not yet re-
covered from the insurance revela-
tions, seem threatened with another
series of shocks. When the Inter-
state Commerce Commission began its in-
vestigation into the Harriman group of
railroads several weeks ago, the disclosures
of the first day's proceedings were suffi-
cient to send a distinct sensation to the
outermost parts of the country. Since then
Mr. Harriman has loomed up as the largest
figure for the time being in the realm of high
finance. The investigation, however, will, it
is thought, be extended to other railroad sys-
tems and it bids fair to take us into the inner-
most sanctums of the financial temple. By

136

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE SPIDER

— Macauley in New York World.

the side of the railroad systems our insurance
companies are mere industrial incidents. In
the war between our financial kings, banks
and insurance companies and trust companies
are outposts. Railroads are the citadels. The
fate of a great railroad comes home directly
to vast sections of country and to a multi-
plicity of industrial interests as nothing else
does. A crippled trunk-line, poorly financed,

inadequately equipped, badly operated, may
mean families freezing to death in North
Dakota for lack of fuel, cattle-raisers in Texas
and cotton-planters in Georgia ruined for
want of access to the markets, and the march
of the nation's prosperity checked. From one
of the most conservative journals of the coun-
try, the New York Evening Post, the revela-
tions made by the first day's probing into the
Harriman system elicited the following:

"This kind of agitation, based on undisputed
facts as to gross mismanagement of railways, is
beginning to get on the nerves of our soberest and
most conservative men. They sigh wearily and
admit that from Harriman and the Rockefellers
and the rebates, the radicals have drawn politi-
cally effective arguments against private owner-
ship."

Union
to-day

I T APPEARS from the testimony of Will-
* iam Mahl, controller of the big com-
panies in the Harriman system, that the
Pacific (Harriman's company) owns
nearly 30 per cent. ( $28,000,000)
of the stock of the Illinois Central; 37 per
cent. ($5,000,000) of the St. Joseph &
Grand Island road; that the Oregon Short
Line (another Harriman company) owns
nearly 19 per cent. ($39,540,000) of the stock
of the Baltimore & Ohio; 3^^ per cent.
($3,690,000) of the stock of the Chicago, Mil-
waukee & St. Paul; 8 per cent. ($14,285,000)
of the stock of the New York Central ; 4^ per
cent. ($10,000,000) of the stock of Atchison,
Topeka & Santa Fe, and 2^2 per cent. ($2,-
572,000) of the stock of the Chicago &
Northwestern. The most startling feature of
this disclosure, however, is the fact that most
of these stocks, to the amount of $103,293,-
745 in value, have been purchased since July
I, 1906, or in a period of six months. Re-
membering that when Harriman and his
friends acquired possession of the Union
Pacific a dozen years ago it was a bankrupt
afifair, that the Southern Pacific and the Ore-
gon Short Line have since been added to it,
that it paid last year ten per cent, dividends,
and that to these roads and their vast holdings
of other roads are to be added several im-
portant steamship companies and $30,000,000
of stock of the Illinois Central held by Harri-
man and his colleagues individually, and we
see such a rapid advance in consolidation of
railroad lines as has never been duplicated in
the history of the world.

MOVING IN A HIGHER SPHERE

— Macauley in New York World.

TV7HERE did the Union Pacific get this vast

^^ sum of over one hundred millions for

the purchase of the stocks of other railroads ?

CONSOLIDATION OF RAILROADS

137

That question subsequent hearings are ex-
pected to answer. It is known, however, that
the company had a surplus six months ago
of about $50,000,000, and that Mr. Harriman
was given a free hand by formal resolution of
the board of directors to borrow such sums
as he saw fit, using the securities of the com-
pany as collateral. With fifty millions to
start on and using the stocks purchased as
new collateral for fresh loans the process of
purchasing other roads becomes a simple
problem of high finance, and the extent to
which it can be carried depends only upon the
extent to which stocks are placed on the
market by their holders at reasonable prices.
The Harriman revelations, says the Philadel-
phia Press, will have an efifect as deep as that
resulting from the insurance revelations. "If
the railroad companies face another season of
drastic legislation, they have Mr. E. H. Harri-
man to thank for it. Neither the country nor
Congress can pass in silence or without action
the revelations made." The Press continues:

"Nothing is safe if these things can be done.
Great railroads can be bought and looted in a
day. Cities and whole industries will find their
trade and profits affected. Whole armies of rail-
road employees and the interests of tens of thou-
sands of shareholders will find themselves mere
pawns in the game.

"It is a very serious matter that at the very
time when railroad corporations are on trial these
revelations are made. They are certain to raise a
stern demand that the responsibility of directors
and railroad officers, to the interests of their
shareholders, shall be enforced by law. This leg-
islation may not come in this Congress. It is
certain to come in the next. It is idle to suppose
that this wholesale abuse of great trusts by direc-

"THE ABLEST TRUST-BUSTER IN THE
UNITED STATES"

That is said to be President Roosevelt's opinion
of Frank Billings Kellogg, of St. Paul, one of the
lawyers conducting the investigation into the affairs
of the Harriman railroads. He was reared on a
Minnesota farm.

tors and a president, who are trustees for share-
holders, can be laid bare without bringing the
same storm which shook three great life insur-
ance companies to their foundation."

Morgan

20.36 %

Earn/ngs

TOTAL EAPN/NGS. 1905. $2,082,000,000

Harr/man

/7.46%

yAAfDERB/LT
/6./S %

P£msyiMN/A

/3. 32 %

///LL^

7.84%

GOUID
S84%

TOTAL UNDER CONTROL $ /. 776. 659. 000. 85 %

4S3Z

/ND. /4:93%

M/LEAGE

TOTAL MA/N L/NE. 1905 . 2/6. OOO M/LES .

Morgan
2 J. 3%

Ham/man

t3.4%

^MD£/fB/LT

/o.e%

9.3%

Gould

7.8%

Moofff

6.7%

PfNLV.
S.4%

TOTAL

UNDER CONTROL. /6/.306 NI/LES. 7-^.7%

//VD£P£NDENT 35.3%

RAILROAD EMPIRES OF AMERICA

— Courtesy of The World's Work.

138

CURRENT LITERATURE

'X'HE legality of Mr. Harriman's proceed-
■*■ ings will undoubtedly be brought to the
federal courts for decision. The Sherman
anti-trust law forbids the ownership and op-
eration of parallel and competing lines by one
company. The case for which the attorneys
for the government are evidently laying a
foundation is that the Union Pacific and
Southern Pacific are, or were, competing lines,
and the efforts of the railroad's attorneys are
to show that they were not competing lines.
"Of all the contests which the government has
had with trusts and combinations of various
kinds," says the St. Louis Globe-Democrat,
"the largest is that which it has just begun
against E. H. Harriman." That the govern-
ment means business is indicated by the char-
acter of the attorneys it has chosen for these
preliminary inquisitorial proceedings. They
are Frank Billings Kellogg and C. A. Sever-
ance, both of St. Paul. Mr. Kellogg is said
to be regarded by President Roosevelt as
"the ablest trust-buster" in the United States.
It was he who began the litigation for the
state of Minnesota against the Northern Se-
curities Company. It was he who broke up
the "Paper Trust" last May. It is he who
has been retained by the government to con-
duct the suit for the dissolution of the Stand-
ard Oil Company. He is a man of fifty, was
reared on a farm in Minnesota, had but little
schooling, and read law in the office of a
country lawyer, being admitted to the bar at
the age of twenty-one. Mr, Severance is one
of his law partners.

/^NE serious effect that is feared as an im-
^^ mediate result of the Harriman revela-
tions and the agitation growing out of it is
that upon the proposed vast schemes of ex-
pansion and improvement which most of the
railroad systems have begun. In addition to
the large outlays decided upon by the Pennsyl-
vania Company and announced before Presi-
dent Cassatt's recent death, a further increase
of bonds and stocks to the amount of $ioo,-
000,000 has been announced since his death,
for new equipment and for extension of
tracks. The New York Central about a year
ago authorized an increase of $100,000,000 for
the same purposes. The Atchison, Topeka &
Santa Fe has recently decided on an increase
of $98,000,000. The two Hill lines have late-
ly increased their stocks, one by $60,000,000,
the other by $90,000,000. The Chicago, Mil-
waukee & St. Paul announces an increase of
$100,000,000. Over half a billion dollars must
be obtained somewhere to float these issues,

and other railways are calling for similar in-
creases of capital to fit them to handle prop-
erly their rapidly increasing traffic. James J.
Hill has recently said that $1,100,000,000
ought to be spent by the railways every year
for the next five years on new construction.
What effect the new agitation will have upon
the marketing of these stocks and bonds is
the source of anxiety to Mr. Hill and to that
watchful organ of the capitalists, the New
York Sun. It says:

"The last quarter of the year has seen over
$100,000,000 added to the wages of railroad em-
ployees. (Likewise the greatest decrease in the
elficiency of labor ever noted in this or any other
country.) The record of the -prices of railroad
supplies, rails alone excepted, during the year
shows the greatest advance ever known in a like
period. The condition of all around apparent
prosperity is the most ominous disclosed in our
annals.

"In these conditions a 10 per cent, horizontal
reduction in rates of transportation by the joint
forces of the Interstate Commerce Commission
and special enactment is proposed, and it suggests
at once to the sane and competent observer that
Mr. Bryan's idea of Government ownership of all
the railroads was wiser and more equitable and
implied a decenter regard for the rights of
property. It would seem as if the intention was
to go Mr. Bryan one better, or go him one worse.

"In the face of this menace, what are the rail-
roads to do? Where are they to get the money
to buy the additional trackage, the need of which
is now so painfully apparent; the money for ad-
ditional rolling stock; the money for more motive
power, and the money for enlarged terminals?
The pressure to acquire all these is the most acute
that has ever existed in our railroad history. How
can the money be forthcoming in the presence of
the destructive plans of the Federal Govern-
ment ?"

/^N THE other hand. The World contends
^^ that the money that should have been
paid out in new equipment has been paid out
in acquiring the stock of other roads. It
says, regarding the Harriman revelations :

"In disclosing this system of manipulation the
commission will also lay bare the real reason for
the inability of the railroads to meet their traffic
demands and to protect the lives of their patrons.
While the demands of 1906 were heavier than
ever before, there had been a rapid increase in
business for ten years previous. The 1906 traffic
did hot come as a surprise.

"The statistics compiled by Poor's Manual
show that while the mileage increased only 18
per cent, between 1896 and 1905, the stock in-
creased 29 per cent, and the bonds 37 per cent.
This is apart from all leases. The interest paid
on bonds increased onlv 11 per cent., but the gross
earnings increased 89 per cent., the net earnings
106 per cent, and the dividends 150 per cent.
Even at that the dividends actually paid ac-
counted for less than a third of the net earnings.

"Money that should have been used in develop-

SEVEN RAILWAY MONARCHS OF AMERICA

139

ing the physical properties has been spent in
purchasing stocks in other lines, while surpluses
have been allowed to accumulate by hook and
crook to use for the same purpose or for juggling
the market.

"In ten years of unprecedented railroad pros-
perity the control of three-quarters of the mile-
age has passed into the hands of six or eight
groups. The lines themselves have been merely
chips in a Wall Street poker game. The func-
tions of the common carrier have been subordi-
nated to the business of Wall Street exploitation.
The operation of the roads has been an incident
and not the main business of the men in control."

r^ ENERAL conditions in American rail-
^^^ ways and the characters of the men w^ho
are running them are interestingly set forth
by a writer — C. M. Keys — in The World's
Work. Seven men, says Mr. Keys, dominate
the financial policy of three-fourths of the
lines in America, and nine out of every ten
tons of freight and nine out of every ten pas-
sengers transported pay tribute to their
power. These seven men are: J. Pierpont
Morgan, William K. Vanderbilt, Henry C.
Frick, Edward H. Harriman, James J. Hill,
George Jay Gould and William H. Moore.
Each of these men dominates in his sphere of
operations not because he actually owns a
controlling interest in the road, but by reason
partly of his holdings and partly of his per-
sonal mastery of afifairs. Mr. Hill, for in-
stance, owns personally less than one-fifth of
the stock of his roads. The same is true of
Mr. Vanderbilt. Others own a still smaller
fraction. Of these seven men Mr. Keys says :

"It is enough to say that this great Senate of
the railroad world is composed for the most part
of men who have made themselves, who know the
joy of conflict, the sense of commercial and
monetary growth and expansion, the economics
of industry. There is not one of them who is in
any sense, as was Jay Gould in another genera-
tion, a wrecker of railroads or of communities.
Financial exploitation is, among these men, sec-
ondary to the development of the area which they
rule. No man can say of any one of them at the
present moment that he has lost sight of his duty
and the duty of his railroads to the people whom
they serve."

DIGGEST of all the railroad men intellec-
*~' tually as well as financially is, we are
told, J. Pierpont Morgan. His activity in
railroads has been but incidental to his career
as a banker, yet nearly half of the big systems
have been reconstructed and put upon their
feet by him. His influence has been for peace
— peace in finance, peace in railroad manage-
ment, "community of interests." In these
days of new leaders of great daring, men are

forgetting the Morgan of yesterday. "Yet
there is no other name that stands with the
name of J. P. Morgan." One of the seven
men is quoted by Mr. Keys as saying: "Mr.
Morgan is the biggest man this age has seen,
and will continue the biggest until he leaves
the world of activity of his own accord. The
dollar looks smaller to him than the point of
a pin. We are like children, squabbling over
trifles; like beggars, grubbing for pennies.
Morgan is the measure of a man I"

Mr. Morgan does not hold any important
office in the railroad world. But he has
created the policies of great lines and selected
the men to carry them out, and his influence
dominates one-fifth of the railroad mileage to-
day.

NT EXT to Morgan in importance Mr. Keys
■'■ ^ places Harriman, "the man whose ambi-
tion knows no limitation, whose kingdom must
stretch from sea to sea and from the Lakes to
the Gulf of Mexico." It is a dangerous ambi-
tion, the writer thinks; yet Mr. Harriman,
who is often likened to Jay Gould, has never
been a wrecker of railroads. At least he has
never wrecked a main line. He cares little or
nothing for branch lines and small local roads,
and not much for the small communities along
the line of his big roads. He wants to be
master of the main highways. He is the man
who would be king, and "he is the greatest of
them all in the measure of the deeds that he
has done."

T HEN comes Vanderbilt, "the railroad aris-
■'■ tocrat," who dominates a mileage nearly
as large as that controlled by Harriman. Two
years ago the Vanderbilt roads were in a
condition of confusion, division and weak-
ness. Vanderbilt was a man of leisure, spend-
ing half his time in France, seldom seeing
anything of his roads. Big men broke their
hearts trying to run his roads. The blight
of indolence and favoritism lay over them all.
Traffic was stolen from them at every junction
point. But something has galvanized the
Vanderbilt system into new life. When the
announcement was made of the Pennsyl-
vania's tunnel under the North River, one of
the New York Central's officials remarked:
"Now it's hustle or hell for us." An expen-
diture of seventy millions was decided upon
for terminal improvements in New York City.
In the last year twenty-five millions have been
spent for new cars. A new activity is seen
throughout the system, but it is not inspired

I40

CURRENT LITERATURE

nor directed, tho it is no longer hindered, by
Mr. Vanderbilt himself, who controls simply
because he inherited control.

/^ASSATT has gone, and the dominant fig-
^-^ ure left in the Pennsylvania system is
Henry C. Frick. He is not a director, and
has no official authority. But he is a heavy
owner, and his suggestions "go." At least
they went when Cassatt was alive, and they
will presumably go now. He is credited with
being the heaviest single owner of railroad
stocks in the United States. "He is a won-
derful personality," writes Mr. Keys, "this
little, trim, gray man, who came from the
little poverty-ridden hut of the Pittsburg steel
worker to be one of the mightiest of the
mighty beneath the shadow of Trinity spire."
Yet the boast of the Pennsylvania system is
that no man or single group of men controls
it. "The stockholders own the Pennsylvania
Railroad." No ten men, it is claimed, possess
enough of the stock to control the road. The
stockholders are scattered from one end of
the world to the other. Cassatt was the
dominant figure, and the stockholders were
ready to give him authority to do almost any-
thing he liked. Frick has not the same degree
of dominance that Cassatt had and still less
that which the other railroad kings have in
their realm. But he is the biggest figure left
in the biggest of all the railroads.

LJ ILL is dubbed by Mr. Keys as "the man
■'^ who has kept the faith." He can command
more money in a blind pool, it is said, than any
other man in the world." His men are loyal
to him in a personal sense even after they
been enticed away to other systems by larger
salaries. His stockholders are loyal. The
farmers along his lines swear by him. Other
financial leaders must explain more or less
what they want money for. All Hill has to
do is to ask for it. He is closer to his public
than is any other man, and "he would sooner
talk with a group of farmers out in Minnesota
than lunch with Mr. Morgan." George J.
Gould, who, like Vanderbilt, inherited his
control in railroads, is styled by Mr. Keys
"the sick man of the railroad powers." He
has ambition and energy and courage. "If
the energy and the determination were con-
tinuous he would accomplish much, but he
halts by the wayside every now and then."
He fought and won a splendid fight for en-
trance into Pittsburg; but then came vacilla-
tion, the little halt, the streak of financial
meanness or timidity, and since then his posi-

tion in Wall street has been a weak one.
Ex-Judge William H. Moore, the last of the
seven men named by Mr. Keys, is styled "the
sphinx of the Rock Island." He is the finan-
cial boss, but he is not an official of the road.
His personality is but little known to the gen-
eral public, and Mr. Keys has apparently little
to add to that knowledge.

7pR a hundred years no Archbishop
of Canterbury has been the center
of such a political storm as is now
raging about the head of the present
successor of Thomas a Becket in consequence
of the final defeat of England's education bill.
This famous measure was rejected by the
House of Lords in the face of the most sol-
emn warnings from the Prime Minister that
the peers would cease to form an upper legis-
lative chamber if they persisted in their de-
fiance of the majority in the House of Com-
mons. The bitterness of the agitation that
must now ensue is conceded by so firm a friend
of the Lords as the London Spectator. It
holds the Archbishop of Canterbury respon-
sible for the situation. He undertook to lead
the fight for sectarian schools. He merely
followed a group of bigots. That is the sum-
ming up of more than one unbiased commen-
tator. It has been hinted in the course of the
month that the ministry will strive next au-
tumn for something like the undenominational
system of education that prevails in the pub-

iir wfX|^£^^

iif*

^^^^^s

^^ •'__

AN ARCTIC BARRIER

"The resources of the British Constitution are not
wholly exhausted. The resources of the House of Com-
mons arc not exhausted. _ And I say with conviction that
we must find, and we will find, means by which the will
of the_ people expressed through their elected representa-
tives in this House will be made to prevail." — Sir H.
Campbell-BannermaNj in the House of Commons.

— From London Tribune.

THE NEW SHAH AND THE NEW CONSTITUTION

141

He schools of the United States. The Arch-
bishop of Canterbury can not believe that any
British ministry will prove so "godless." The
London Saturday Review is not so sure. It
thinks Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman is pon-
dering the situation in France. He is also pon-
dering Home Rule. Indeed, predicts the Lon-
don Times, there is to be a Home Rule bill
when parliament next assembles. The Irish
have not hitherto taken kindly to the unde-
nominational educational ideal. They are to
be bribed, therefore, with the prospect of a
parliament of their own in Dublin. Next the
Lords are to go. Finally the estates of the
great English landlords are to be subjected
to some unspecified form of confiscation. Such,
remarks the London Times, are the conse-
quences of tolerating a Prime Minister who
is at heart a Jacobin.

HEN the present King of England
was merely Prince of Wales he was
in the habit of saying that the most
remarkable woman in Great Britain,
after his own mother, was the Baroness Bur-
dett-Coutts. The death of this philanthropist
last month has occasioned more obituary lit-
erature of the eulogistic kind than even the
passing of Queen Victoria inspired. "One of
the most remarkable and splendid characters of
the Victorian era," says the London Telegraph.
^"The organization and administration of her
benevolence was in itself a life work," ob-
serves the London Mail; "never was charity
less ostentatious." The London Times thinks
the Baroness Burdett-Coutts was, all things
considered, the most famous woman on the
globe, the most disinterested in her love of hu-
manity and the most tactful in achieving her
philanthropical aims. Angelina Georgina
Burdett came into the fortune upon which she
built her renown at a time when ten million
dollars — that was what her possessions
amounted to then — seemed a prodigious sum.
The British imagination was staggered.
Americans failed to grasp the immensity of
the monetary aggregation. Ten million dol-
lars, all concentrated in a single individual !
However, the most sensational circumstance
of her career was her marriage to the poor
American youth who was barely old enough
to be her grandson when she made him her
husband. His full name was William Leh-
mann Ashmead-Bartlett. His father had
been an instructor at Harvard before our civil
war. Little William was sent to England
with his brother because his widowed mother

could live cheaply there. The boys were to re-
turn in time to be put through Harvard. But
they never came back. One married the most
remarkable woman in England and went into
parliament. The other became the husband of
a beautiful Scotch heiress and likewise entered
the House of Commons.

AST month Mohamed AH Mirza be-
became Shah of Persia under cir-
cumstances inspiring the suspicion
that he means to make a speedy end
of the parliament that has been in session at
Teheran during the whole period of the late
Shah's fatal illness. Mohamed AH Mirza re-
vealed his outspoken reactionary tendencies
to his Vizier on the first day of his reign. He
avowed a pronounced aversion for the con-
stitution granted by his father not many
months ago. Soon after the promulgation of
that instrument. Prince Mohamed AH Mirza
founded a reactionary league at Tabriz, where
he resided, and where he was upheld by a
coterie of mullahs. The influence of these
mullahs, who are a kind of Mohammedan
clergy, is great in Persia. They have main-
tained an ecclesiastical organization unknown
in other Moslem countries. They exercise
much authority of a judicial kind. They are
said by a competent authority to be the only
body of men in the land capable of standing
between the new Shah and his subjects. They
have on more than one occasion, according to
the Teheran correspondent of the London
Times, interposed their influence against mis-
government. Between them and the late Shah
the breach had grown wide. Not long before
the death of that potentate the mullahs ac-
tually threatened him with excommunication.

PERSIA'S new Shah is believed to be in-
■*■ fluenced by a widespread popular super-
stition that his father, Muzaffer-ed-Din, was
destined to be the last of the present dynasty.
The mullahs about Mohamed AH Mirza are
proclaiming that a constitution and a parlia-
ment are in conflict with the law of the
Koran. They are imitations of the infidel
west. They must therefore be obnoxious to
all true believers. In thus interpreting the
sacred text, they reflect, it seems, the convic-
tion of the new Shah that Persia's parliament,
if it be allowed an opportunity, will legislate
his dynasty off the peacock throne. In order
to support his reactionary theories with the
sanctions of the faith, the new Shah has sent
a mission to the great religious center of

142

CURRENT LITERATURE

HOURS OF SUSPENSE

• The crowds that waited for news outside the palace gates during the sickness of the late Shah of Persia
shared in the popular belief, based on superstition, that the dying Muzaffer-ed-Din was to be the last of his
dynasty. The belief will not make any easier the course of the new Shah, Mohammed Ali Mirza.

Shiite Mohammedanism. If that mission re-
turns with a condemnation of the Persian par-
liament, Mohamed Ali Mirza will have won a
great triumph. But the Persian people, avers
Professor Arminius Vambery, who knows
them well, look to their new parliament as
their only refuge against the despotic system
under which they suffered so much when the
late Shah reigned. It is highly unlikely that
Mohamed Ali Mirza will prove strong enough
to overthrow the only parliament ever chosen
on the mainland of Asia. Yet his proceedings
indicate an uncompromising frame of mind to
which his subjects are in no mood to yield.

LIE IS now about thirty-five, but his acces-
■^ * sion to the throne is an anomaly in that
his mother did not belong to the Kajar dy-
nasty. It has been maintained by the mullahs
that only the son of a Kajar princess could
become Shah. They have decided, however,
that Mohamed Ali Mirza is a Kajar because
his father was. The new Shah received what
is termed a European education. He speaks
French fluently. His knowledge of English

is elementary. His Persian tutors were in-
numerable in the days when he was Vali Ahd",
or crown prince, and resided at Tabriz in a
palace noted for the beauty of its gardens.
Much was made of the faith in the present
Shah's training. Mohammedanism is, of
course, the religion of the land to-day. But
Persia adheres to that sect within the faith
known as Shiite. The new Shah, consequent-
ly, regards Ali, first cousin and son-in-law of
Mohamed, as the true successor of the
prophet. This sets the Persian Shah in oppo-
sition to the Turkish Sultan, upholder of the
Sunnite sect of Islam. The Mohammedan
world is thus rent by schism. But when he
was merely Vali Ahd, the new Shah was sus-
pected of indoctrination with the heresies of
Babism. The public square outside his palace
at Tabriz was the scene of the execution of the
Bab some half a century ago. By a coinci-
dence that has been deemed ominous, the
Bab's three names were the same as those of
the new Shah. His Majesty the king of kings
and light of the world is called Mohamed Ali
Mirza. The Bab had for his real name Mirza
Ali Mohamed.

THE ELECTIONS IN GERMANY

143

TN THE eyes of the new Shah, however, the
■*■ tenets of the Bab are rank heresy. His
Majesty's devotion to the truth faith has been
certified by his mullahs. It is further attested
by his approval of the execution of a Moham-
medan seer who had forsworn the faith of the
prophet and taken to Christianity. The seer
was immured in a cell looking out upon the
palace grounds. Having been kept upon bread
and water for several weeks, the apostate
from Mohammedanism was carried into the
public square at Tabriz and, upon his refusal
to abjure the Christian creed, was strangled
in the presence of a great concourse of the
faithful The firmness with which the Vali
Ahd vindicated his religion on this occasion
edified the faithful at the time and was re-
called to his advantage last month. But the
new Shah is much criticized for his devotion
to the automobile and for his somewhat Eng-
lish type of sportsmanship. He shoots all day
whenever he has time. He is accused of allud-
ing disrespectfully, too, to the tomb of Ali,
the son-in-law of the prophet, who is buried
at Nejef, in Mesopotamia. His Majesty has
the further misfortune to be on bad terms
with the most influential personage, politically,
in Persia, Mushir-ed-Dowleh. This aged states-
man has been Minister of War, Foreign Min-
ister and Grand Vizier. His record as a
Europeanizer of Persia seems to have been
fatal to his position at the court of the new
sovereign, however. His Majesty consorts
with the mullahs and the mullahs are boycot-
ting Mushir-ed-Dowlah.

^PEROR WILLIAM'S optimism—
his strongest quality, according to
himself — may fail him when the
outcome of the first and second bal-
lots for the next German Reichstag are laid
before his Majesty in the course of the com-
ing fortnight. The ten million or so of voters
in the fatherland are even now in the voting
booths. A huge fraction must cast an addi-
tional ballot, for in many a constituency the
election will not yield the requisite majority
for any one candidate. Herr Bebel, the vet-
eran leader of the Socialists, must wait a week
or two for verification or failure of his pre-
diction that his party's vote is to attain a total
of four million. The Socialists polled three
million votes in the election of a few years
ago. If any great increase is to be effected,
Herr Bebel must achieve the task. His energy
throughout the campaign gives emphasis to
the assertion that he is easily the greatest liv-

ing German engaged in public affairs. His
unceasing propaganda has spread over the
country and has been followed up by an or-
ganization which the exigencies of the cam-
paign demonstrate to be well nigh perfect. He
has spoken at all kinds of gatherings, to all
kinds of people, sympathizers and opponents,
with an unquenchable zeal, a burning force
and a contempt for constituted authorities
rarely tolerated in the fatherland. In one
past campaign Bebel was forced to abandon
convenient premises in which, as a turner, he
had built up a paying business, and, at heavy
loss, to re-establish himself beyond the reach
of political persecution. This year he has
been let alone to an extent quite new in Ger-
man experience.

DEBEL, nevertheless, seems to have rasped
*-' the Emperor's feelings violently. The
Socialist leader has preached from his old text
that the constitution of the German Empire
was intended to establish what in Great Brit-
ain goes by the name of responsible govern-
ment. The German constitution, interpreted
by Bebel, creates a Reichstag elected by uni-
versal suffrage. The Reichstag has a share
in legislation. It has the right of examining
and of approving or of rejecting the estimates
laid before it on behalf of the imperial au-
thority. But there is a second body, the fed-
eral council, made up of delegates appointed
by the states of the German Empire. Above
these two bodies is placed the Emperor. Bebel
takes issue with the theory that the Emperor
is the supreme executive officer in a despotic
sense, acting through a chancellor, ministers
and officials who are appointed and dismissed
by his Imperial Majesty and responsible only
to him. Nevertheless, the Emperor's choice of
ministers is independent of the Reichstag and
its votes. What Bebel protests against is the
administrative absolutism superimposed upon
a representative legislature empowered to grant
or to withhold supplies. There is nothing in
the nature of "responsible government" here,
for the administration is not responsible to the
Reichstag. Emperor William II conducts the
government of Germany himsejf.

ITERE is the issue of the struggle. William
*^ himself is fully alive to it. His frequent
public utterances are replete of late, declares
the London Post, with expressions of his per-
sonal opinions and represent the acts of his
government as the outcome of his own initia-
tive. To this fact is due the growing impres-

144

CURRENT LITERATURE

sion in Germany that the government of the
country is absolute rather than representative
or parliamentary. Public opinion in Germany,
as reflected in the uninspired press, would wel-
come any arrangement by which it could be
made practicable for the Emperor to choose
his ministers from among men in sympathy
with the views of the majority in the Reich-
stag now in process of election. The dissatis-
faction with the present system is so wide-
spread and acute that Bebel is deemed to dis-
play tactical genius of the highest order in
exploiting it as he does. On the other hand,
Bebel is too far in advance of the German
parliamentary standpoint. The composition of
the German Reichstag is not of such vital im-
portance as it is in England, in France or even
in Italy, where the fate of the government is
indissolubly bound up with the issue of an
election. The stability of the government of
Emperor William will remain independent of
the various majorities resulting from the
month's ballots. In fact, the German Reich-
stag has only, so to say, a negative strength
in that it can reject bills submitted by Emperor
William's government, but can never make
laws of its own right and authority. Without
the consent of the federal council, with its
chancellor president, that constitutional bul-
wark of the throne against Reichstag majori-
ties, the whole legislative work of the Reich-
stag itself is vain.

/^ HANCELLOR VON BULOW has hinted
^^ that in the event of a Reichstag unsatis-
factory to the ruling caste in Germany, the
Emperor will bring about a fresh dissolution.
That would mean a domestic political crisis of
the severest sort. Yet William II would pre-
fer that, it is said, to a Reichstag in which
the Socialists, instead of being eighty strong,
hold over a hundred seats. The increase in
Socialist membership is retarded, however,
because the government and the federal coun-
cil have not adhered to the electoral basis
adopted by the framers of the German con-
stitution in 1871. According to this, as Bebel
has pointed out very often recently, each 100,-
000 of the population would return one mem-
ber. This made in 1871 an aggregate of 397
deputies. Altho since that time the German
population has grown prodigiously, the num-
ber of deputies has remained about the same.
Even the hall in the new Reichstag building
has, by direction of the imperial authorities,
accommodation for the old number only.
Moreover^ the division of the 397 electoral dis-

tricts is very unequal. The rural constitu-
encies are unduly favored at the expense of
the great towns and industrial populations.
For instance, the fourth electoral division or
ward of Berlin returned but one member to
the Reichstag, when seventy-five country con-
stituencies, each with less than a fifth of the
population in the urban constituency, returned
a member apiece. Knowing that a just altera-
tion of the electoral laws would benefit the
Socialists mainly. Emperor William's govern-
ment refuses to sanction it. None the less,
Bebel is quoted as predicting a Socialist group
of nearly a hundred when the new Reichstag
comes together. There were but eighty in the
Reichstag dissolved by the Emperor when the
colonial vote angered him.

rjOCTOR PETER SPAHN, the bearded,
^■^ eloquent and erudite Leipsic jurist who
leads the Roman Catholic Center party, is like
Bebel in having behind him a splendid politi-
cal organization. It may be assumed, accord-
ing to observers on the spot, that the Roman
Catholic Center will experience no difficulty
in again carrying at least 76 out of the 88 seats
which they won outright on the first ballot in
the Reichstag struggle of 1903. The imperial
government is said to be behind the active
campaign against the Center now at its height
in many sections of the German press. Such
attacks upon the Center are accompanied by
the assurance that the campaign is purely po-
litical and that there is no intention whatever
of reviving the religious struggle of Prince
Bismarck's time. Dr. Spahn avers that the
imperial government has not sufficient power
to restrain the excesses of the movement it
has started. The clerical organs, of which
the Berlin Germania is the chief, quote many
anticlerical dailies and innumerable platform
utterances which are affirmed to be quite in
the spirit of the warfare which Bismarck,
when at the height of his power and fame,
waged against the clergy of the Roman Cath-
olice Church in Germany. Dr. Spahn has
made capital of these outbursts in those Ro-
man Catholic constituencies which have been
thought lukewarm in their political allegiance.

T TNLIKE the organization of which Bebel
^^ is the champion, the clerical party led by
Dr. Spahn derives its strength from every
social layer in Germany. The Center includes
landowners of the aristocratic Bavarian re-
gion as well as toiling masses in the great

Courtesy The Socialist Literature Company ^^„ t»t t^tttit t,- \i-i\iwc"

"THE GREATEST LIVING GERMAN ENGAGED IN PUBLIC AMAlRb
August Bebel. the leader of the Social Democratic pa^tym^^^^^
writer in the London Spectator, lit has been the most ronspicuouspersona^^^^^^ 1^ b ^^^^ millions, a poll

i"ha?^ou?hft^o1nc\e"/s: geTepre^sl'ntS of Hi? p'a^\r^''t"e'R^eic^h°^flg't°o tbout a hundred. It was eighty in the
last session.

146

CURRENT LITERATURE

manufacturing cities along the Rhine. "The
probability is," according to the competent
Berlin correspondent of the London Tele-
graph, "that those electors who were Catholic
and voted Catholic before will be and vote
Catholic again." In that event one of Bebel's
calculations will be widely astray. It is his
pet political theory that there has been wide
disaffection from the Center on the part of
pious wage-earners. The Center's loss will be
the Socialist gain. The Germania professes
its amusement at this theorizing. It says the
Roman Catholics will appeal to the voters with
the cry: "We will have no absolutist govern-
ment for which the Reichstag is but a machine
to turn out money." The astute Dr. Spahn
has stolen some of the Bebel ammunition. He
argues that the electors should have a firmer
control of the administration than they pos-
sess at present. He avows his sympathy with
the prevailing discontent at the burden of new
taxes and at the high price of food. The
Center has been hitherto the one force potent
enough to check the spread of Socialism
among the working-class population. The com-
petition between the two for the support of
the wage-earning population, especially in
such constituencies as contain a large mining
element, has been keen. The Center includes,
as is pointed out by the Berlin Vossische Zei-
tung, a number of Roman Catholic nobles and
country squires who have no great sympathy

with many of the popular views taken up by
Dr. Spahn. Dr. Spahn feels, on the other
hand, that the strength of his party comes
from the support of Roman Catholic working-
men in the great industrial towns of Rhenish
Prussia, Westphalia and Silesia, in addition to
the vote of the south German peasantry.
"These classes are almost as democratic in
their views upon many subjects as are the
more moderate of the Socialists, and the can-
didates for their suffrages are often compelled
on certain questions to profess strong liberal
opinions and to support a constitutional policy
in parliament on pain of forfeiting the
confidence of their constituents and even of
seeing some of them desert to the Socialist
camp." As such desertion involves ultimate
renunciation of the authority of the Church, no
effort is spared by the priesthood to prevent it.

BiJLOW, THE IMPERIAL LIGHTNING-ROD

— Wahre Jacob (Stuttgart).

CONFRONTED by Socialists on the one
^^ hand and the Center on the other, the
various other political organizations involved
in the fray — Conservatives, Liberals, Radicals
and what not — have striven for such a com-
bination of parties as has governed France for
the last six years. The fathers of this plan
have even adopted the French term "bloc" for
what they have in mind. For a week or so fol-
lowing upon the dissolution of the last Reich-
stag, these efforts seemed destined to be suc-
cessful. "All the Liberals," to quote the Ber-
lin Post, "from the National Liberals, who
have been competing with the Center for years
to win the favor of the government, to the
most advanced radicals of the Freisinnige,
were to wheel into line with the reactionary
Conservatives in order to overwhelm the
democratic forces of the Center and of the
Social Democrats in a common defeat." But
the Prussian landed aristocrats and the ad-
vanced radicals have been up in arms against
a scheme which nullifies so many of their prin-
ciples. That faithful mouthpiece of the Prus-
sian nobles, the Kruez Zeitung, has actually
suggested that the Center party ought to be
conciliated before the crisis gets beyond con-
trol. The Center, it observes, has often been
conservative in policy. Real Conservatives
should have nothing to do with Radicals, who
are "little better than Socialists." Radical
organs have in turn frowned down a political
pact with Prussian reactionaries. The issue
in this campaign, according to an organ in-
spired by Chancellor von Biilow, is whether
the Emperor is to govern "traditionally" or
whether he is to be at the mercy of casual com-
binations of political groups as is the national

IS FRANCE MAKING WAR ON GOD?

147

administration of the French Republic. This
is taken as a hint that no matter what kind
of a Reichstag emerges from the ballotings,
von Biilow will be retained in office by his im-
perial master.

DRINCE VON BiJLOW remains the one
■•■ man in the crisis who could walk on the
keyboard of a piano from the Wilhelmstrasse
to the Reichstag without sounding a note.
Such is the ebullient hyperbole of a Berlin
daily that excels in this sort of comment upon
the progress of the campaign. A brilliant So-
cialist leader has labeled the Prince's oratori-
cal baggage with the tags, "second-hand rail-
lery" and "worn-out epigrams." The London
Times has called his parliamentary methods
"primitive," but it was forced to concede — and
any concession from the London Times to
Prince von Biilow is remarkable — after the
unusually brilliant speech preceding the dis-
solution of the Reichstag, that "the Chancel-
lor's parliamentary manner, which is adroit
and lively, enables him to deal successfully
with the ordinary embarrassments of debate."
But he cannot conceal his conviction that noth-
ing that happens in the Reichstag can matter
very much. When William II is pleased to
overlook that provision of his empire's or-
ganic law requiring the counter-signature of
the Chancellor in certain contingencies, there
is a chorus of protest, but the voice of von
Biilow never swells it. How appositely he re-
members, when a debate on the constitution
elicits expressions of dissatisfaction with some
imperial methods, that Bismarck once set out
on a vain quest for a contented German !
With what easy grace he gradually finds his
way back to his own peculiar vein of parlia-
mentary seriousness by deploring, as he loves
to do, the unbridled license of the German
comic press! He can be thus epigrammati-
cally evasive throughout one whole session of
a Reichstag wherein the Socialists on the
"left" and the agrarians and conservatives on
the "right" represent extremes of policy. Von
Biilow's course between them has been to bait
the Socialists and to please the "right." The
expedient has proved relatively simple, altho
occasionally embarrassing. For how long a
time after the assembly of the new Reichstag
it will remain possible for von Biilow to ex-
orcise the spirit of opposition to his imperial
master with what his Socialist critics describe
as a combination of the pettier arts of diplo-
macy with lively loquacity is a theme concern-
ing which the dailies of the fatherland afford
us nothing but conjecture.

EITERATING for the fifth time his
assertion that the government of the
third French republic is waging war-
fare not merely against the Roman
Catholic Church, but against Christianity itself
and all spiritual ideas, Pope Pius X last month
issued an encyclical which reveals how deter-
mined he is to carry the struggle to the last
extreme. It is "a gigantic act of plunder and
sacrilege" which the ministry, headed by
Georges Cleraenceau is engaged in perpetrat-
ing. France is to be transformed into some-
thing more than a non-Christian nation. She
is to be made an anti-Christian land. In thus
summing up the situation, the sovereign pon-
tiff, to the way of thinking of the London Sat-
urday Review, organ of Toryism and reaction,
is only just. "Every word in this connection
that the Jacobin politicians say," it affirms,
"every act that they do, proves them to be not
only the enemies of Catholicism, but also of
Christianity." The "contemptuous toleration"
that the republic extends to powerless Calvin-
istic sects, it adds, in no way interferes with
its general purpose. Organs of British opinion
are willing to see Christianity injured without
a protest so long as the Pope suffers humilia-
tion. "The belief, however, is widespread that
in their comments on French ecclesiastical
matters they are tuned to the Jewish financial
rings on the continent." Perhaps the "most
offensive feature" in this press campaign, con-
cludes our commentator, is the attempt made
to represent the Pope as the assailant of the
laws and liberties of Frenchmen and to drape
"this Jacobin anti-Christianity" in the mantle
of Gallican religious independence. The Pope's
latest encyclical is therefore peculiarly pala-
table to this foe of an atheistic republic.

AS EVIDENCE of the godlessness of the
government now in power in Paris, al-
leged utterances of its guiding spirits are given
publicity in organs of clerical opinion like the
Paris Gaulois. Into the mouth of Clemenceau
himself is put the statement that "God must
go." That ablest of living Socialist orators,
Jean Jaures, is made to say: "Down with
God !" From a speech delivered by one whom
the London Times describes as "a statesman of
profound conviction and consummate talent,"
who "has no superior among contemporary
public men in France," namely Minister of
Education and Public Worship Briand, is
quoted the assertion: "It is time to do away
with the Christian idea." One by one the
clerical dailies go through the list of members
of French ministry and find them convicted.

148

CURRENT LITERATURE

out of their mouths, of atheism. Frenchmen
of international fame, noted for their support
of the anticlerical policy to which this war
with the Vatican is due, are revealed in not
less godless guise. Emile Combes, so recently
at the head of a ministry of his own, is deemed
th'e most incorrigible atheist of them all. Leon
Bourgeois, an old-time foe of Vaticanism, is
discovered glorying in his antagonism to God.
Such are the sentiments of the men who,
making up ministry after ministry, display
their sentiments, according to the clerical Cor-
respondant (Paris), by "spitting in the face of
Jesus Christ," and converting "the faith he
labored to found" into mockery.

17 ROM the point of view of the exercise of
'■ religion, says the Pope, the law separating
church and state sets up a system of uncer-
tainty and arbitrariness. "There is uncertainty
as to whether the churches, which are always
liable to disaffection, shall or shall not in the
meantime be at the disposal of the clergy and
faithful." In each parish the priest will be in
the power of a municipality possibly as "athe-
istic" as the government at Paris. As regards
the declaration required for public worship
under the law of 1881, the encyclical denies
that it offers the legal guarantee the church

has the right to expect. "Nevertheless, to ob-
viate worse evils, the church might have tol-
erated making declarations; but laying down
that the clergy shall be only occupants of the
churches without any legal status and with-
out the right to perform any administrative
act in the exercise of their ministry, placed
them in such a vague and humiliating position
that the making of declarations could not be
sanctioned." The Temps contravenes this in-
terpretation by the Pope of a French statute
which, it declares, can only be finally passed
upon by a French court of law. Meanwhile it
contradicts the assertion in the encyclical that
the clergy are to be only occupants of the
churches without any legal status. The papal
arguments here are pronounced "specious."

THE TRIUMPH OF DEMOCRACY

— Sanbourne in London Punch.

I EFT to themselves, in the opinion of this
•*— ' moderate organ, "the French bishops
would have accepted the separation law and
the French Catholics would have formed the
public worship associations offered by the gov-
ernment as a means of enabling the church in
France to organize itself and to enjoy au-
tonomy and independence within its own
sphere." Pius X interfered when all was go-
ing smoothly. He feared a weakening of the
authority of the Vatican. "The French gov-
ernment could not compel the church to accept
the advantages offered it. It did the next best
thing for the church by simply leaving it to be
governed by the ordinary law of the land.
There were no disabilities and no special treat-
ment." Clergy and faithful were regarded
merely as citizens. They had all the rights
of any other class of citizens. They were ex-
pected to yield the same obedience to the laws
of the land. "Even so, various concessions
were made to the church as to the use upon
easy terms of buildings which had been and
were the property of the state, and as to
church property placed within these buildings."
The immense majority of French Roman
Catholics, lay and clerical, proceeds the same
authority, were disposed to accept the situa-
tion. But the French republic was forced by
the Pope's action to fall back upon the ordinary
law. Thus it became necessary for the clergy
to give notice of meetings for public worship.
"M. Briand made the thing very simple by
accepting a single notice as valid for twelve
months in the case of each particular building
in which such meetings were to be held."
Cardinal Lecot declared that the giving of such
notice is "an administrative formality which
implies neither the renunciation of any right
nor outside interference in religious worship."

WHAT FRENCH STATESMEN ARE STRIVING FOR

149

EXPULSION OF THE HIGHEST ECCLESIASTI-
CAL DIGNITARY IN FRANCE FROM HIS
PALACE

Cardinal Richard, the aged 'Archbishop of Paris,
left the official residence that has been tne scene of
such excitement ever since separation of church and
state went into effect, and took refuge in the home
of a clerical member of the Chamber of Deputies.
The Cardinal was_ escorted to his new abode by a
crowd of sympathizers, including many of the most
aristocratic men and women in France.

This was immediately before the Pope issued
his sudden prohibition and brought about the
contest which has grown so bitter.

CO EGREGIOUS is the misinformation upon
*^ which the encyclical of his Holiness is
based, observes the Hiimanite, organ of a So-
cialist group, that the document refers to "the
rising tide of popular reprobation" moving
against Clemenceau. The Humanite is parti-
zan on this point, but such organs as the Lon-
don Times, the Vienna Neue Freie Presse and
the Paris Temps — all noted for independence
of attitude in this crisis — agree with the So-
cialist mouthpiece. Those prelates and priests
who really approve of the uncompromising at-
titude of the Vatican are manifestly in a small
minority. Thus the London Times. The
really striking feature of the situation at pres-
ent, it adds, is the profound dismay and dis-
couragement among the clergy of all ranks.
"It is not against religion itself nor against
the priesthood that the separation law was in-
troduced, but against the undue interference of
the Vatican in the affairs of the state and its
audacious efforts to obtain control of the dif-
ferent branches of state administration." There
are innumerable Roman Catholics in the third
republic who look at the situation from this
point of view. They would reject schism. Yet
they are anxious to be freed from the yoke
of elderly Italian ecclesiastics ruled by a pious
but tactless pontiff, whose well-meant but im-
possible policy has plunged the faithful of
France into uproar. Symptoms of discontent

HOW TH« FAITHFUL ATTESTED THEIR SYM-
PATHY WITH THE "SEPARATED"
FRENCH CHURCH

Inside the carriage is seated the Cardinal Arch-
bishop of Paris. His Eminence was cheered as he
rode through the streets of the French capital, after
his _ ejection from the archiepiscopal pahce. The
vehicle in which the Cardinal rode had to proceed at
a slow rate for miles, owing to the dense throngs of
sympathizers.

and unrest in French Roman Catholic circles
are evident to all who pass their days outside
the Vatican. But the Pope fills his encyclical
with talk of "popular reprobation" existing in
his misinformed mind only.

nPHE "atheism" of the third French repub-
■*■ lie is asserted to be another phantom of
the pontifical imagination. George Brandes, the
personal friend of Clemenceau, denies that the
Premier is atheistical in any but a Vatican
sense. Clemenceau, speaking at Roche-sur-
Yon last September, championed the right of
every Frenchman to worship God in accord-
ance with the dictates of his own conscience.
Clemenceau denied that he opposes the preach-
ing of Roman Catholic doctrine in any part
of France. He favored liberty of conscience.
"Who does not see," he asked, "that the prin-
ciple of liberty of conscience entails as a neces-
sary consequence the separation of the
churches from the state?" It is alien to the
spirit of our age, he proceeded, to place the
social resources of the whole body of citizens,
believers and unbelievers, at the disposal of a
particular form of faith. To quote Clemen-
ceau further:

"It is the union of church and state that
we have striven to abolish. But while it has
taken time and incessant effort to alter the state
of the law, it has proved an infinitely greater
labor to change the state of minds. The procla-
mation, the realization of the principle of liberty
of conscience, implies a new state of mind.
Dogma, from its very nature, aims at possessing
the mind of man entirely, dominating it, ruling it
in every aspect of life. The daily practice of

ISO

CURRENT LITERATURE

liberty, implied in a system of separation of
church and state, calls for a spirit of tolerance
from which dogma has striven for centuries to
turn the mind of man. We can not, therefore, be
surprised if we fail to find in our opponents such
a transformation of mind as will be brought
about in them, beyond a doubt, by the beneficent
system of freedom of conscience."

/^F THE "atheism" of Leon Bourgeois, that
^^ pioneer of separation in France, no one
but a"Vaticanized prelate," avers the Echo de
Paris, could find a trace. The private life of
Bourgeois accords with his public life in being
estimable. He has long been a model as a
fafnily man, though his mother and sister dis-
tinguish themselves by the piety of their type
of Roman Catholicism. His perfect agreement
with his family circle shows accommodating
amiability that, happily, is not rare in the
domestic life of the "atheists" of the third
republic. In religion Bourgeois adheres to
that primitive Christianity of which Tolstoy
is a kind of prophet. In the principles of the
sermon on the mount, Bourgeois professes
to find the loftiest rules of conduct. Yet, as
a student of social philosophy, he sat at the
feet of Comte and has remained his follower.
But he has avowed the faith with which he
read the gospel of Matthew. But faith, as
Bourgeois uses the word, has nothing in com-
mon with the faith interpreted from the Vati-
can. Does the fact, asks the Lanterne, make
Bourgeois an atheist ? "Was the United States
an atheist republic," inquired Senator Delpech
in the Action recently, "when the great Presi-
dent Jefferson repudiated the dogmas of the
faith in which he had been reared?"

DUT Combes, as he is pictured in the clerical
*-' organs, is the atheist of atheists. Emile
Combes carried anticlericalism further than
any Prime Minister the third republic has
ever had. His ministry was a long one, as
French cabinets go. It witnessed the elimina-
tion of the crucifix from the halls of justice.
It made the navy "a lay service" — that is, the
officers and the marines were freed from ob-
ligatory attendance at mass aboard ship and
the emblems of the Roman Catholic religion
were taken from their conspicuous positions
on battleships and cruisers. "This," com-
ments the Lanterne, "was called the banish-
ment of God from the squadrons of the repub-
lic. But if God be everywhere, may he not
still linger on the deck of a French man-of-
war though the priests have fled? To the
Vatican there is, of course, but one God —
the God of the syllabus. Away with such a

God — France has had enough of him." This
is the cry of Combes. The God of the sylla-
bus— "we are weary of him," cried Combes
in the chamber of deputies during the debate
that preceded the announcement of his resig-
nation. "The God of the syllabus is made by
the Vatican to brand as abominations liberty
of worship, of speech and of the press. That
God denies the right of the individual citizen
to embrace and profess such religion as he
may have recognized as true in the forum of
his reason and conscience. That God anathe-
matizes all who believe that the Pope should
become reconciled to modern progress, liberal
ideas and civilization. Such a God we de-
nounce and condemn." That is as far, affirms
the Humanite, as Combes ever went in his
denunciation of what it calls "the Vatican
God." "It was not too far." Combes, in an
interview with a London News correspondent,
denies that he rejects theism, denies that he
is "atheistical" in the sense of doubting the
existence of a supreme being.

\TOR is the atheism of Aristide Briand, the
■^ ^ eloquent Minister of Public Worship,
admitted by him to be more substantial than
that "rejection of the Vaticanized God" for
which the anticlerical organs praise him to
the skies. The Aurore insists that his de-
nunciations of "God" comprise only sentences
taken here and there from speeches delivered
as far back as five years ago and twisted out
of their context. "Must we remind you," said
M. Briand in the chamber of deputies some
weeks ago, "that the Roman Catholic Church
has denounced all the liberties of this coun-
try? The Roman Catholic Church, through
its syllabus, has denounced freedom of con-
science, freedom of the press and freedom of
thought." M. Briand denied, in an inter-
view widely published last month in European
dailies, that he aims at destroying "the idea
of God in the French mind." "Let the French
mind conceive God as it will," he is quoted
as saying. "But let not the French republic
uphold one God against another." He pointed
out that the openly atheistic group in the
chamber of deputies, that of the so-called
Socialist republicans, condemns the Clemen-
ceau ministry for "its concessions to the re-
ligious idea." In fact, the fall of the Clemen-
ceau ministry, according to the careful Paris
correspondent of the London Standard, would
be followed by the accession of a ministry in
which genuine atheists would be represented
instead of "Vatican atheists." A policy far
less conciliatory would be put into execution.

Persons in the Foreground

THE HUMANIZATION OF EDWARD H. HARRIMAN

"HAT Edward H. Harriman is a real
human being, with blood in his veins,
nerves in his body, and with an emo-
tional as well as an intellectual sys-
tem, has come as a sort of unexpected revela-
tion to the public in the last few weeks. He has
been for years a bogy man, a sphinx, a man
of mystery, a powerful money-making ma-
chine. Now it is discovered that he once had
a childhood and a youth, that he knows how
even yet to play, that he has fads and feelings,
and that he can be sick like other men. Like
some of the other kings of finance now regnant
— John D. Rockefeller, for instance — he seems
to have changed his mind recently in regard to
the necessity of keeping himself at a sacred
distance from the public, veiled in awesome
mystery. At least one of the numerous maga-
zine articles about his career that have been
recently published was read by him in proof
and his sanction given to it, with a mild pro-
test against some of the statements. His early
life, about which he has been very reticent
even with his associates, has become known,
and there is nothing that so humanizes a man
to other men as to know what kind of a young-
ster he was, and how he managed to get his
first good grip on the skirts of circumstance.

Harriman was reared in poverty that was
almost penury. His father was an Episcopal
clergyman who had to live for a number of
years on an income that consisted of a salary
of $200 a year and whatever else he could
make at odd jobs. There was a family of five
children to support, and there was a family
name and a vast amount of family pride to keep
up. The father — Rev. Orlando Harriman — was
a classical scholar and a winner of medals at
Columbia. The mother was a member of an
aristocratic family of New Brunswick, N. J.
The pride of learning, the pride of social caste,
and the lack of enough to eat and wear form
a hard combination. Says C. M. Keys, writ-
ing in The World's Work:

"Over this long period from 1850 to 1866 hangs
a heavy cloud. It was a period of poverty, of
humility, of terrible discipline. The family lived
in a small house on the meadows [Jersey City].
There was never enough money to go around.
Making ends meet was a task of the supremest
difficultv. It was a dark time indeed.

"Yet through the darkness shines one splendid
ray of light. It is the personality of a noble
woman, the mother of Edward H. Harriman.
Her splendor lives not in cold records, but in the
hearts of those who knew her. She came of an
old aristocratic family of New Brunswick, N. J.,
and lived up to the best of its traditions. In
the midst of hardships she taught her husband
patience and her sons true manliness. Every
effort of her hands and mind was given to the
future of her sons and daughters. She is de-
scribed as a cultured, refined, and wholly ami-
able lady of that old school now unhappily de-
parted. How much of his steadfastness, courage
and superb command Edward H. Harriman owes
to her the world can but blindly guess."

Young Harriman was born in Hempstead,
Long Island, in 1848, the fourth of five chil-
dren. A few months later his father had a
controversy with his vestry over arrears of
salary, as a result of which he left Hempstead,
moving to Castleton, Staten Island, and later
to Jersey City. Edward H., or Henry, as he
was known as a boy, attended Trinity School,
in New York, tramping two miles in the morn-
ing to the ferry and another mile from the
ferry to the school. An associate of those
days describes him as "the worst little devil
in his class and always at the top of it." He
was a "scrapper" and a leader in sports and
boy organizations, but his fondness for study
was slight. When he was fourteen he quit
school and went into Wall street, as a clerk in
a broker's office. Every cent of his first year's
salary went to his father to help support the
family. He never had any more schooling.
At the age of eighteen he was in a partnership
in Wall street. At the age of twenty-two he
struck out for himself, and procured a seat in
the Stock Exchange. Before that time his
mother had come into possession of a bequest
that placed the family beyond want. But how
the young broker got money enough — from
$10,000 to $15,000 — to buy the seat in the Ex-
change none of Mr. Harriman's recent biog-
raphers tells us. He was at that time, as other
brokers remember him, full of fim, fond of so-
ciety and socially well liked.

He kept his eyes open and watched and
worked. He saw panic after panic in the
street, but was not engulfed in any of them.
"Black Friday" was one, the smash caused by
Jay Cooke's failure was another, the Grant-

152

CURRENT LITERATURE

Ward failure and the Baring collapse were
others. During all this period he kept his nerve
and gradually acquired securities purchased at
panic prices and held on to them year after
year. At the age of forty he had a comfort-
able fortune. Then he wanted to devote him-
self to "more intellectual pursuits," for the in-
fluence of his father's scholarship had never
left him. "I wasted fifteen years of my life
from the time I was fourteen," he said re-
cently to Carl Snyder, writing him up for The
Review of Reviews. But the stream of events
on which he had now become embarked proved
too strong for him. Instead of pulling out of
it he soon found himself in a deeper and
stronger and more rapid current, the current

few weeks before the world will know just what
Mr. Harriman proposes to do in any particular
event. . .

"The quality of directness, noted in his boy-
hood days, intensified as he grew older. It had
been the moving force behind him as he pro-
gressed from penury to wealth. It was to be
the power behind him to the end. In fact, it
became and is to-day the one factor that stands
out from his diverse character. It has made
of him, in the popular fancy, a financial Jug-
gernaut that stops for nothing. The Morgan
forces withstood him in 1901, and he did not
hesitate to create a situation that led to a panic
in the Stock Exchange. Mr. Stuyvesant Fish,
the comrade of his young manhood, withstood
him in this last year, and he crushed Mr. Fish
as he would an enemy. A hundred lesser in-
stances of this same characteristic could be ad-
duced."

ARDEN

The summer home of Mr. Harriman. It is situated in the Ramapo Valley, New Jersey, and the estate surrounding
it is twice as large as Manhattan Island. Mr. Harriman transacts much of his business here by the use of the telephone.

of "high finance." Of him at this time, Mr.
Keys writes:

"Mr. Harriman was about forty years of age
when he set his feet upon the path that was to
lead him into sovereign power. Many of the
characteristics of his boyhood had fallen from
him. The friends of his youth describe him as
frank, open, fond of gaiety and fun. The twenty-
odd years of the Stock Exchange had effectually
removed the frankness and the openness. In
their place he had a studied reserve, a careful
holding of himself in leash, a fixed resolve that
no man should be able to guess the real thoughts
and motives that lay within his mind. He had,
by sheer effort of will, made of himself a
psychological puzzle. So he has remained to this
day. His plans are deep in mystery, even to the
jjiep he calls bis friends. They will know only a

He knows what he wants and goes after
it undeviatingly. He must dominate what-
ever he is connected with. "My work," he
once said to a reporter about his functions in
the board of directors of the Union Pacific,
"has been to harmonize diflferent opinions held
by the members of the board of directors."
When this statement was shown to a man who
had been a director on the road he laughed
and said : "I guess the reporter got him wrong.
I guess he really said 'Harrimanize.' "

Harriman's entrance into the sphere of rail-
road finance, in which he has become one of
the greatest figures, was made almost inci-
dentally. In 1883 he held quite a block of stock

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

153

in the Illinois Central. Stuyvesant Fish, with
whom he had become acquainted in the Stock
Exchange years before, was interested in a
fight over the road, and Harriman was chosen
a director, his influence and vote in turn being
cast for Fish as Vice-President. When Fish
in 1887 was made President, Harriman became
Vice-President. When the President went to
Europe Harriman became acting President and
a difference arose between him and the general
manager, E. T. Jeffrey. The latter resigned,
and Harriman, who had gone out to
Chicago to stay a few months before retir-
ing to "more intellectual pursuits," found him-
self up to the chin in work handling a railroad
system that had more business than it could

The business is here. We must be ready to
carry it." The business was there and the
earnings the next year greatly increased. And
in the next few years over twenty million dol-
lars were expended in rebuilding. "The Har-
riman policy," says Carl Snyder, "has been
distinctly one of concentration, rebuilding and
upbuilding." When by "a brilliant coup" he
became possessor, after Huntington's death,
of the Southern Pacific, the two roads ex-
pended in SIX years' time over $200,000,000 in
improvements and extensions. Last year the
gross income of the whole system was larger
than that of any other railroad system in the
country, with the single exception of the
Pennsylvania, and the dividend disbursements,

AT THE TUXEDO HORSE SHOW, 1906

Mr. Harriman is passionately fond of a fine horse, and loves to drive one. The group above consists, be-
sides himself, of his wife, his boy and Mrs. Harriman's father.

take care of. He and Fish, working together,
made a new road out of the Illinois Central.
Then Harriman's eyes turned longingly to-
ward the prostrate Union Pacific, that had
gone into bankruptcy in the crash of '93, and
had a second mortgage on it to the Federal
Government to the amount of $54,000,000 and
only $13,000,000 in the sinking fund to meet
it. He and his friends bought the road, and
he became chairman of the board of directors.
He began a close personal examination of the
property, and from his exploring car tele-
graphed back a huge order for new equip-
ment. His colleagues demurred. Harriman
wired: "I cannot wait to discuss the question.

amounting to $28,000,000, were larger than
those of any other corporation excepting the
United States Steel Corporation. Still more
startling are some of the revelations being
brought out in the investigation of the Harri-
man roads by the Inter-State Commerce Com-
mission. These revelations are described by
us on a preceding page. By them there is laid
bare, "a scheme of railroad aggrandizement,"
in the words of the New York Times, "that
startled even the members of the commission,"
who have grown pretty well used by this
time to bold projects.

The man who conceives and executes these
vast financial transactions is described by

154

CURRENT LITERATURE

"FAIR LAUGHS THE MORN AND SOFT THE ZEPHYR BLOWS"

The young lady who, with perfect confidence, is driving the four-in-hand is Miss Mary Harriman, and the
other young lady is Miss Cornelia Harriman. They are daughters of the "king of high finance." The gentle-
man in the front seat is Mr. Thomas Hastings, the architect.

James Creelman in Pearson's Magazine as fol-
lows :

"He is a small, spectacled man, with a large
forehead and slight, narrow chin. He has deep-
set gray eyes and a dark-skinned, expressionless
face. His jaws are short and wide; his nose is
straight, thin and pointed. He looks like a
Frenchman of the small professional type.
His manner is cold and dry. But for the
lines of muscular contraction on either side
of the chin, running almost from the corners
of the secretive mouth to the thin, wiry neck, and
an occasional bunching of muscles at the tight-
gripped angles of the jaws, it would be hard to
reconcile the weakness of Mr. Harriman's dwind-
ling lower face with the terrific force which he
sometimes displays in his ceaseless struggle for
money and power."

He has the "seeing eye" in a supreme de-
gree, says Mr. Snyder in his Review of Re-
views article. And he is "a tremendous
worker." Mr. Snyder writes :

"The day is begun with a round at the tele-
phone, one secretary or assistant after another be-
ing connected with him,- at his home, each morn-
ing in regular order. Over the telephone he
hears reports, is read letters of importance, makes
engagements for the day, gives directions, then by
ten or half-past he is at his desk. He has the
faculty, his associates say, of getting through

business at a tremendous rate; his mind works
swiftly, his decisions are rapid. This he is en-
abled to do because the questions involved have
all been patiently thought out, studied and turned
over, long in advance. This is the secret. 'They
may appear offhand judgments,' Mr. Harriman
remarks, 'but they are not.' His mind seems to
be working all the time.

"He works four days in the week only. Fri-
day, Saturday and Sunday he does not go to
his office, more often to the country, always to the
country throughout the summer time.

"It is at Arden that he has the most of his
fun, though I imagine that like most men who
succeed at business, work itself is his enjoyment
in life. After it comes the Arden estate. It lies
just above the fashionable colony at Tuxedo, on
the line of the Erie road, a slight matter of 26,-
000 acres. That is an area of about twice the size
of Manhattan Island. It is mostly wildwood, and
if the mosquitoes are as numerous usually as on
a summer day some years ago when I cycled
through the country back of Tuxedo, I for one
could have no envy for his possession."

His chief fad, Mr. Snyder goes on to tell
us, is boys, and it is his pride that he is presi-
dent of the largest club of boys in the world:

"That is the Boys' Club, at the corner of Tomp-
kins Square and Tenth street. New York City.
Here is a big building, five or six stories in
height, with gymnasia, baths, playrooms, reading-

THE LEADING FIGURE TO-DAY IN THE REALM OF HIGH FINANCE
Edward H. Harriman, who from a boyhood passed in penury has come into domination over 25,000 miles of
railroad track, is described as having "a slight, rather stooping figure, with a very large head, very piercing black
eyes, with the habit of command and the confidence of success.

156

CURRENT LITERATURE

rooms, 30 or 40 separate clubrooms. Here in the
course of the year 8,000 or 10,000 East Side boys
have fun. They are not taught. It is not a
church, it is not a school, it is not a reformatory,
it is not a movement for the ethical culture of
the East Side. It is simply a big place where the
boys may enjoy themselves. Incidentally they do
learn a great deal ; they are taught a great deal.
But it is Tom Sawyer fashion, who defined work
as play that you didn't want to do.

"Here, for all ages, from little chaps just able
to toddle up to big chaps ready to marry and
have homes, there is a chance to find most any
kind of wholesome amusement and sport. They
have their football teams, baseball teams, camera
clubs, natural history clubs, debating clubs. They
give a Gilbert and Sullivan opera once a year, no
one taking part but the boys; and the perform-

ances are said to be capital. They have an or-
chestra of their own, they have two drum corps,
and they have a brass band.

"Mr. Harriman is, and has been for years,
president of this club. Its history dates back 30
years and more, and Mr. Harriman's association
with it dates from the beginning. Here, as a
young man of eight-and-twenty, he undertook the
work with a company of other young men, largely
college men, and he has held to it ever since."

For his own recreation Mr. Harriman rides
horseback, drives fast horses, motors, golfs
a little, and in the winter time plays hockey
with his boys. He has two sons and three
daughters. The daughters are young ladies,
the sons are still in school.

KING EDWARD'S NEW AMBASSADOR IN WASHINGTON

HO he is now nearly seventy, James
Bryce is to-day a noted athlete. His
figure is gaunt, his limbs are long,
^ his eyes, ears and nose are big. His
voice is hard, tho quite clear. The thick mus-
tache and beard and the thin hair surmounting
an unusually high forehead are white. All
who have known James Bryce well in the past
thirty years pronounce him the healthiest
man in British public life to-day. The re-
semblances between many of his personal char-
acteristics and those of the Scotch-Irish stock,
from which he sprang, proclaim him the vic-
tim of an excessively nervous temperament
who attained self-mastery by the exercise of
the highest moral powers. He has traveled
as widely as Marco Polo. He fishes with the
enthusiasm of Izaak Walton. He climbs moun-
tains with the fearlessness of an Alpine guide.
His nine-mile walks before breakfast were
long the talk of Oxford.

Professor Mahafify has described James
Bryce as the most learned man of this genera-
tion. He is entitled to write more letters of the
alphabet— "D.C.L.," "M.P.," "F.R.S.," and the
like — after his name than any other man ad-
mitted to the ministry when Sir Henry Camp-
bell-Bannerman assumed ofiice recently. He
knows eight or nine languages well, perhaps
ten not so well. He has written with au-
thority on Poland, Hungary, Iceland, Trans-
caucasia, the holy Roman Empire, the Ameri-
can commonwealth, the Eastern question,
trade-marks, historical jurisprudence. He is
referred to still as "the Professor," altho
nearly forty years have passed since he as-
sumed the chair of civil law at Oxford. He
has been famous since he was twenty-four.

He had scarcely attained that age when he
won the Arnold historical prize with his study,
"The Holy Roman Empire." This was an
international success. He resembles John
Morley in being one of the few successful
politicians who made a first appearance at
Westminster when past middle age. He was
past forty-two when he entered the House of
Commons, being already a distinguished man
of letters, a scholar with an acknowledged
reputation at every seat of learning in the
world.

One gift only was denied him — eloquence.
James Bryce does not speak with a brogue,
nor yet with the Scotch "burr." His accent
suggests somewhat a combination of the two.
There is not a particle of music in his voice.
He has never achieved a triumph in debate.
His platform speaking is like his character —
hard, able, persistent, practical, convincing.
He has no irresistible magnetism of person-
ality to move an audience with. Metaphor is
unsuitable to the matter-of-factness of his
speech. Illustration he never or very seldom
employs. Wit he seemingly has no use for.
Of what is called "retort" he has an intellec-
tual contempt. He has always been the most
impersonal of beings. He remains to-day the
most impersonal of public speakers. The
man's facial expression, as it is known in the
daily round of his life, is immobile. The
countenance does not light up on the platform.
In the House of Commons he edified, he in-
spired respect. He raised no laugh, he could
not seem brilliant, altho every member knew
he must be.

Nothing has surprised the London intimates
of James Bryce more than the American im-

MOUNTAINEER, DIPLOMATIST, FISHERMAN, HISTORIAN, ADMINISTRATOR AND EXPLORER

The Right Honorable JTames Bryce, King Edward's new ambassador in Washington, is about seventy, the most
learned man in high position anywhere in the world and a most ardent admirer of the United States. The London
Saturday Review complains that in any dispute between London and Washingrton, Mr. Bryce can be relied upon to
take the side of Washington.

158

CURRENT LITERATURE

pression that he is "new to diplomacy." James
Bryce has been a high authority on the di-
plomacy of Great Britain and of Europe for
more than thirty years. He has even had an
official connection with the profession itself.
He was long under-secretary for foreign
affairs, choosing, in that capacity, incumbents
of the highest British embassies. He has di-
rected the diplomatic policies of two Prime
Ministers. There was a time not so many
years back when he inspired the whole diplo-
macy of his native land in all that relates to
the Eastern question. The Paris Figaro lately
praised him as the only living British states-
man competent to discuss the question of
naval expansion from the standpoint of di-
plomacy. For James Bryce is a writer of re-
pute upon the two-power standard of Great
Britain. The' naval policy of a nation, James
Bryce has said, is simply a branch of its
diplomacy. He has been a student of diplo-
macy when some of the most distinguished liv-
ing ambassadors were small boys. How Amer-
ica came by its notion that James Bryce is
not to be regarded as a trained diplomatist
puzzles certain London organs much.

The new British Ambassador in Washing-
ton is systematic, punctual, imceremonious
and a little quick in manner. He has always
risen early. The peculiar pleasure which a
solitary ramble in wild surroundings gives
him makes his morning walk prolonged. His
pleasure is not dependent on those dangers
which are supposed to attend "first class"
mountaineering, for James Bryce is too true
a mountain lover to disdain a little safe
scrambling among any hills that may be near.
He has come back to breakfast very much the
worse for soil. He is so practiced a moun-
taineer, moreover, that he can go safely for
walks where people less skilled would cer-
tainly be in danger. But, like the experienced
man he is, he remains careful in indulging
himself in this particular hobby, fascinating as
it has always been to him. Mr. Bryce is said
to be the first white man that ever stood
upon the summit of Mount Ararat. The tales
of his prowess in the Alps relate to avalanches
of snow that have fallen right upon him, to
a sudden storm in which he was lost for two
days, and to the breaking of a rope that left
him suspended over an abyss. But Mr.
Bryce's judgment is so good and his eye is so
trained that he can detect a crevasse covered
with snow by the mere shade of the white
mantle. It must be noted that many Alpine
stories involving Mr. Bryce are as apocry-
phal as that concerning the scar on his chin.

He won his scar, it was affirmed long ago, in
a student duel at Heidelberg. Mr. Bryce went
on to Heidelberg after passing out of Trinity
College, Oxford. Thus he came by that flu-
ency in the use of German which enabled him
on sundry occasions to address Teutonic elec-
tors in the east end of London in their mother
tongue. But he got no scar at Heidelberg and
he fought no duel there. The scar and the
Alpine incidents were invented for political
purposes to convey the idea that he is too
reckless to sit in the House of Commons.

James Bryce the fisherman can go into ec-
stasies over the rise of the trout to a floating
artificial fly. He is a wary angler, who has
learned the art of taking covert. He is no
amateur to scare fish after fish by a too bold
appearance near the brink. Dropping upon
one knee in some tuft of thick rushes, he
screens himself from the quick eye of his prey.
It has been termed an education in itself to
try how close one can get behind a rising
trout and watch its actions unobserved. Mr.
Bryce can do it. He has carried home sev-
eral brace of heavy trout after a long day
upon the banks of some neglected stream
where an angler is an apparition almost as
lonely as a heron. Success with the salmon,
it has been said, depends upon conditions dif-
ferent from those of triumph over the trout.
In trout-fishing one must be able to tell, by
intuition or from experience, where fish are
likely to be hovering. One must be nimble in
the use of rod and line flies, and James Bryce
is that. But in salmon-fishing the boatmen
provide the knowledge of the fishes' haunts,
and it is self-control in excitement — the su-
preme gift of James Bryce — rather than dex-
terity that does the rest. Mr. Bryce has the
fisherman's psychology as Izaak Walton lays
it down. He has great wisdom, learning and
experience, he loves and practices the art of
, angling, and he neglects all sour censures.

Mr. Bryce's five senses are affirmed to re-
main as keen to-day as they were when he
took a double prize at Oxford at the age of
twenty-four. There is not a trace of deaf-
ness in him. His hearing is, indeed, so fine
that any inharmonious combination of sounds,
however subdued, will spoil a musical com-
position for him. His unusually large eyes,
surmounted by the bushiest of white brows,
are keen, inquisitorial, but never roving or
restless. Mr. Bryce uses glasses but sparing-
ly. He lacks, however, what is called the
artist's eye. He has not the artistic tempera-
ment. He has too much perfect health for it,
says a writer in the London World, enlarg-

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

159

ing, like many others, upon the extent to
which Mr. Bryce has enjoyed good sight, good
hearing, good digestion, good capacity to
smell and touch and taste long after those
powers in most men have begun to show
signs of decay. Still, his brow is seamed with
lines. There are countless wrinkles about his
eyes. He looks like an old man, but an old
man who is strong, masterful and alert.

The preservation of his physical powers
is said to go along with an intellectual vigor
little less than prodigious. Mr. Bryce is be-
lieved to be as good a Latin and Greek schol-
ar as he was nearly fifty years ago, when
his classical attainments were the marvel of
his college. He has lost none of his Sanscrit
and his Hebrew. He uses six or seven of the
languages of modern Europe without any dif-
ficulty. But it is in administrative history
that he is deemed the greatest of experts. Mr.
Bryce is what the British call an adminis-
trator. Government as viewed from the
standpoint of the executive has been the study
of his life. His great work on American in-
stitutions, his not less famous study of that
Holy Roman Empire, which was "neither
holy, Roman nor an empire," and his lectures
on jurisprudence, on constitutional law and on
the history of diplomacy invariably take the
administrative standpoint. We have here the
compass that steers us through the shoreless
ocean of his learning. It is a learning that
sits most lightly upon him. He is no slave to
it. His days are not spent in studies of the
past, nor are his nights taken up with "great
authors." At no time of his life was he a
bookworm. But the intellect is with him
supreme.

So cold and so dry is the white light of that
reason through which he looks at things that
Mr. Bryce has been accused of a want of
human sympathy. Shortly after he became
chief secretary for Ireland in the present
British cabinet, he was called upon to deal
with a failure in the potato crop. It was
thought characteristic when Mr. Bryce re-
fused to be moved by tales of distress. He
declined to say what he might or might not do
to relieve distress. He must first be made
aware what amount of distress there would
be. In some parts of Sligo, Mayo, Donegal,
Galway and other western counties of Ire-
land there had been serious failures of the
potato crop, however. Mr. Bryce had to ad-
mit the validity of the evidence. Yet he would
not believe that things were as bad as they
had been described. The potato crop had
failed. Other crops must have succeeded.

Any man but James Bryce, talking like this
in the face of a great Irish calamity, would
have been denounced. Mr. Bryce gave no
offense because his "administrative" point of
view was allowed for. It was "poor admin-
istration," again, to go in for "relief works,"
yet Mr. Bryce lost none of his Irish popu-
larity when he refused to countenance them.
As an adept in the work of administration, he
felt that relief works were far from the best
means of relieving distress among an impov-
erished people. It is a dangerous thing to
institute a public work simply for the sake of
relief. If public works have to be instituted
at all, their value to the conimunity must alone
be considered. Otherwise, there might be
great demoralization. The people would al-
ways expect relief to be given. Many would
get relief who did not need it. There would
be much waste of public money.

Herein is reflected that absence of warmth
which is held responsible for Mr. Bryce's
failure as an orator. He can not look upon so
personal a thing as human suffering in any
but an impersonal way. Yet no administrator
has done more to lighten economic burdens in
Ireland, where he carried out a policy that
was held to lead straight to Home Rule. His
solutions of labor problems were actually de-
clared, during his incumbency some twelve
years ago of the office of President of the
Board of Trade, to be pauperizing London.
This charge is akin to the familiar one that,
for all his standing as a great administrator,
Mr. Bryce is a relaxer of discipline. He is
certainly most popular with subordinates. He
seldom asks any man under him how he is
putting in his time. He calls for information,
for details or for results. He has the quickly
thinking mind which enables him to generalize
soundly from facts collected by others, to de-
tect inconsistencies in the facts themselves
and to put aside the irrelevant instinctively.
Through such mental traits has Mr. Bryce
earned his reputation as a public servant who
gets more work out of his subordinates be-
cause he gives them less to do. Lord Rose-
bery put the matter in this way once.

Mr. Bryce, with his wife, has done much
entertaining in London. The dinners at his
town house have never been so elaborate as
to suggest the man of wealth — for Mr. Bryce
has but a small private fortune — but they
have been elaborate affairs. The best of the
Bryce entertaining has been done in Aber-
deen. To this ancient Scottish town Mr,
Bryce has repaired year after year with the
homecoming sense of the Scot who, tho

i6o

CURRENT LITERATURE

born in Belfast, was bred in Glasgow and kept
in the House of Commons by Aberdeen. Mr.
Bryce's annual speech in Aberdeen has long
been the political event of the year, as his
garden party has long been the social event
of the year in South Aberdeen. His social
qualities include geniality in conversation, a
complete unconsciousness that he is anybody
in particular, and an aptitude for listening,
to which attention has often been called. Mr.
Bryce is believed to be sincerely delighted to
listen. The circumstance is due to an ever
fresh interest in human nature and to an
eagerness to get information from men instead
of from books. So that while Mr. Bryce is a
good talker of the, quiet kind he is probably
the best listener anywhere in the world.
Canon Rawnsley is thought to have put James
Bryce the man, James Bryce the Home

Ruler, James Bryce the scholar, James Bryce
the administrator and James Bryce the agi-
tator of the Eastern question into this sonnet:

Friend of fair freedom, lover of the light.

You who have climbed unconquered wastes of
snow

And seen the peaks of Oberland aglow
When all the vales were purple-dark with night.
Did not the vision from your morning height

Help the great hopes within you — you who
know

Peace yet in far Armenian fields shall grow,
Bulgaria rest and Macedon have right!

To other heights you climb, the thankless throne
Of office and the pinnacle of state.

Shall not that vision tell of dawn to be
When love shall flow where roars a sunder-
ing sea,
When tireless years of good shall vanquish
hate
And Erin's heart with Britain's heart be one.

THE FIELD COMMANDER OF THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY

F William J. Bryan is commander-in-
chief of the Democratic forces at
the present time (a proposition that
will not pass undisputed), John
Sharp Williams is certainly the general in
charge of the forces in the field. As the
chosen leader of the Democratic minority in
the House of Representatives, he is the only
man in the party whose leadership in national
politics to-day has an official tag on it, and
the only man who seems able to issue orders
without exciting an insurrection in the ranks.
When Williams came into this post of lead-
ership in the House of Representatives, he
found the Democratic minority in a condition
likened to that of "a plowing, snorting herd
of Texas steers suddenly released from all
restraint." In five days he had turned his
chaotic following into a disciplined and
soldierly army. It was a feat all the more sur-
prizing because he had never been suspected
of being an organizer. He was one of the
orators of the party, brilliant and forceful,
but known as "simply an orator." In the first
five days he had a fight on his hands within
his own army — the only serious fight of the
kind he has had to wage. It was on the subject
of Cuban reciprocity. Williams had determined
that the watchword of his party should be
tariff revision and that the bill for Cuban
reciprocity should receive Democratic support.
The Democratic senators were dismayed by
his decision, but by gentle and persuasive

methods he won out, and his army presented
a united front at the end of that time and has
kept it surprizingly well. A recent attempt
to depose him died a-borning. The Wash-
ington correspondent of the New York Times
has described his methods of handling men as
follows :

"He is persuasive, not domineering. He has a
winning manner, and he seems to be seeking help
and light from you at the very time he is bring-
ing you around to his views. Congressmen who
go into his little room in the library wing deter-
mined to let Williams understand that they will
put up with no nonsense, go forth pleased and
flattered and inclined to help him out. On the
rare occasions where it is necessary for him to
show his authority the iron hand comes out of
the velvet glove, and the insurgent knows what
has happened without having any one tell him."

None of the W^ashington correspondents
finds Williams's personal appearance very im-
pressive. His "corrugated" legs, his loose-
hanging clothes, and his general unpreten-
tious air give him the appearance of a man
of little importance. Yet he "needs hardly to
speak above a whisper to attract the close and
strained attention of the whole house in a
moment." Here is a personal description
given by Dexter Marshall recently in the Rich-
mond Times-Dispatch :

"John Sharp Williams is slightly below the
average in height. Naturally slender, he is now
showing some tendency toward stoutness. His
gray eyes are deeply set beneath shaggy brows.
His mustache is dashed with gray, and his dark
curly hair appears never to have been combed.

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

i6i

When his face is in repose it seems to frown, but
when he talks his smile banishes all notion that
he can possibly be surly. He wears loose clothes
— if they are not loose they hang awkwardly — his
waistcoat is seldom entirely buttoned, and his
black string tie is usually loose and dangling to
one side or the other.

"His legs are replicas of his grandfather, John
M. Sharp's, and Mr. Williams is proud of them.
From hip to knee they are like ordinary legs, but
below the knee they bend backward in an extraor-
dinary manner. 'Corrugated,' they have been
styled. He is not physically graceful.

"Mr. Williams is partially deaf in his right ear,
and as that is the side presented to the enemy on
the floor of the House, he' is usually seen using
his hand as an ear-trumpet, with his head cocked
well forward. His voice is rasping and not at-
tractive at first, but this is soon forgotten in the
pleasure furnished by his rich Southern accent
and drawl, and the purity of his English."

He is incisive in speech, and his command
of sarcasm is said to be unequaled in the
House by any one except De Armond. Yet his
manners are "as easy and unpretentious as
an old shoe." His occasional absent-minded-
ness has given currency to some amusing
stories. Here is one which Mr. Marshall tells :

"Dressing for dinner one evening he encount-
ered trouble with his tie, which would not take
or keep a satisfactory set. Finally, however, he
arranged it, gravely donned his dinner-coat and
waistcoat and turned to his secretary for his ap-
proval.

"'Bob, do I look all right?' he demanded.

" 'Yes,* replied the secretary, 'but, if you will
pardon the suggestion, I think the effect would
be better if you were to put on your trousers.' "

The great-grandfather of Williams was a
colonel in the Revolution, his grandfather was
a Confederate captain in the Civil War, and
his father, a Confederate colonel, was killed
at Shiloh. He and his brother inherited con-
siderable wealth, and are to-day rich men for
Mississippi. They own half a dozen cotton
plantations in that state, covering about lo,-
GOO acres, and real estate in Memphis as well.
His brother attends to the management of the
plantations, while John Sharp attends to the
management of the Democratic Congressmen.
He was educated at the Kentucky Military
Institute, the University of the South, the
University of Virginia, and the University of
Heidelberg. There was some talk recently
of his being asked to join the faculty of the
University of Virginia, and there is more talk
of his succeeding Senator Money in the upper
house of Congress.

For several years his name has occasionally
been mentioned in connection with the next
Democratic nomination for the Presidency.
But he refuses to take the subject seriously.
Interrogated on this matter two years ago.

A FEW REMARKS TO MAKE

John Sharp Williams as he appears on the floor of
Congress. He has taken to wearing a four-in-hand
instead of a string tie, but his easy manners, win-
some smile and incisive oratory are unchanged.

102

CURRENT LITERATURE

he replied with seeming earnestness : "My
boy, my boom is making tremendous strides.
My private secretary is unreservedly for me,
and I have hopes of securing the support of
Charley Edwards, the clerk of the minority
room." Only a few days ago he was interro-
gated again on this subject, the chairman of
the Democratic congressional campaign com-
mittee having come out in favor of his nomi-
nation. Williams pushed his big spectacles
up on his forehead and solemnly assured the
reporters that he had talked the subject over
carefully with his wife and she was of the
opinion that the White House cellars were so
damp that Kit and Sallie would catch their
death of cold there. Consequently he has de-
cided not to accept the job.

If John Sharp Williams were to be the next
Democratic nominee, he would be the first
Southern man to be placed before the country
in that capacity by either of the leading po-
litical parties since the war. Williams is in-
tensely Southern, but he is singularly free
from sectional prejudices. One of his most
remarkable speeches in Congress was a de-
fense of General Sherman against the charge

of having violated the rules of war in his
famous march to the sea. It was listened to
with breathless attention by a crowded house.
Here is one of the passages which occurred
in the course of that speech:

"As an American citizen, as the son of a 'rebel'
soldier, as a man who is intensely American, al-
though he is intensely Southern, I want the world
to know that when civilized men were fighting
civilized men upon the American continent — one
of them in behalf of the cause of the preservation
of the Union as he understood it, and the other
in behalf of the cause of local independence as he
understood it — the watchword was chivalry and
fair fight."

He has a wide reputation as a story-teller
and the grave charge is made and denied and
made again that he occasionally writes poetry.
He spends most of the time not devoted to
public affairs at his home in Yazoo, among
his books. His wife, while of course inter-
ested in his career and proud of his success in
public affairs, devotes most of her time to
the family and does not attempt to follow
closely the ins and outs of political strife.
They have seven children, — four sons and
three daughters.

THE CONCILIATORY GENIUS OF THE QUEEN OF ITALY

:^0 DIPLOMATIST in Europe is ig-
norant of the profound influence
exerted by Queen Elena of Italy
upon the relations subsisting be-
tween the Quirinal and the Vatican. At a
time when the eldest daughter of the Church
is in open rebellion, Italia has drawn closer
to the faith than at any period since the fall
of the temporal power. The Queen's con-
ciliatory personality is given credit for it by
the few who know what transpires behind
the scenes. Yet Elena was not reared in
the Roman Catholic faith. Indeed, she was
educated in something like abhorrence of it.
Her first religious notions were implanted
in her girlish mind by no less a person than
Procurator Pobiedonosteff, of the Holy
Synod. Alexander III, when on the throne
of Russia, had made up his mind that the
bride of the future Czar — Elena having been
selected for that high destiny — should be as
orthodox as a member of the Greek Church
could possibly be. To-day Elena is one of
the potent personal factors in the good-will
growing up between the King in the Quirinal
and the Pope in the Vatican.

The commencement of what may be a recon-
ciliation between the royal house of Italy and
the sovereign pontiffs dates from the baptism
of the little Prince of Piedmont. It had all
along been the wish of the Italian irrecon-
cilables in the anti-clerical camp to have this
little boy made Prince of Rome. Such a title
would have constituted a gross affront to the
Vatican. There is but one Prince of Rome
in the eyes of those who uphold papal claims
to the temporal power. But if court gossip
be a reliable guide, the title of Prince of Rome
had already been selected for the little Hum-
bert. It was at this juncture that the Queen of
Italy interposed. To her influence was direct-
ly due the choice of "Prince of Piedmont," a
title to be henceforth as distinctive of the heirs
of the house of Savoy as is the appellation
"Prince of Wales" with reference to the heirs
of the house of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha.

From the hour of her reception into the
Roman Catholic communion, Elena has con-
stituted herself the medium of conciliation be-
tween church and state in Italy. The warm
friendship that grew up between the present
Pope during his incumbency of the patriarch-

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

163

ELENA AS MOTHER, WIFE AND QUEEN

One of the most beautiful women in Europe, Her Majesty, the Queen of Italy, is taking a morning canter
with Victor Immanuel III and their three little ones. The Prince of Piedmont, heir to the Italian throne, is
balanced on the baby saddle strapped to the donkey's back. The little Princess Mufalda (or Mafalda) is on a
pony at the King's left. The Princess Yolande, first-born of the trio, is likewise mounted on a pony at her
mother's right.

ate of Venice and the Queen still subsists. His
Holiness has even granted her Majesty spe-
cial recognition as Queen of Sardinia In this
last capacity it is permissible for Elena to
avail herself of every spiritual favor granted
by the Church to those of the faithful who are
in the necessary state of grace. Elena has
thus two royal titles. But she was merely a
princess of Montenegro at the time of her
marriage to the present King Victor Emman-
uel of Italy in 1896.

This was the climax of the series of bril-
liant matches arranged by Prince Nicholas,
reigning sovereign of Montenegro, for his
beautiful daughters, of whom the Queen of
Italy was originally intended to become the
consort of the present Czar of Russia. Her
Majesty, who is now thirty-four, was taken in
girlhood to St. Petersburg to be educated for
this exalted destiny. Elena and the present
Czar's sister, the Grand Duchess Xenia, soon
formed the most passionate of mutual attach-
ments.

In due time, Elena's sister Militza married
a Russian Grand Duke. Another sister, Anas-
tasia, became Grand Duchess of Leuchten-
berg. Alexander III, then on the throne of
Russia, bade his son take Elena to wife. But
Nicholas had now taken an interest in the

Princess Alix of Hesse. Alix and Elena were
at this time celebrated as the loveliest prin-
cesses in Europe. The gorgeous eastern col-
oring of Elena's dark countenance proved a
foil for that gracious simplicity to which the
effect of the blonder loveliness of Alix was
mainly due. Elena subjected by every intoxi-
cating form of feminine enchantment. Alix
subdued through a pouting loveliness most
stimulating to the chivalrous instinct in the
breast of man. The affections of the one were
all sentiment, of the other all passion.

Elena's education, finished at a young ladies'
seminary patronized by the Empress Dagmar,
equipped her for a more pretentious life than
that led by her father, the Prince of Monte-
negro. He is a cultivated and traveled man,
familiar with most European capitals, yet ad-
dicted to mountaineering habits and fond of
his native costume, which he expected his chil-
dren to wear when at home. There never was
much ceremony or etiquette at the home of Prin-
cess Elena. The poorest of her father's subjects
and the obscurest of strangers are received,
as a rule, without formality. An eye witness
relates that at the public announcement of
Elena's betrothal to the present King of Italy,
the Prince of Montenegro was seized by a
dozen of his mountaineers and carried bodily

164

CURRENT LITERATURE

LENGTH IS THE "NOTE" OF THIS QUEEN'S
BEAUTY

The arms, the waist line, the neck, the hair and the
chin of Queen Elena of Italy are so harmoniously ad-
justed, so far as her Majesty's curves of beauty are
concerned, that the extreme height of this most cele-
brated of royal beauties passes almost unobserved.

down the main street of his capital, all con-
cerned roaring with laughter. When a di-
plomatist deplored the meager and valueless
nature of Montenegro's exports in the hearing
of the Prince, his Highness replied:

"I don't know. What about my daugh-
ters?"

The Prince of Naples, as Victor Emmanuel
III was then styled, first met Elena in Venice
during the famous exposition there. Her
beauty was at this period as striking as her
height. She was, in truth, ethereally huge, ab-
solutely without pride, yet looking down upon
everybody and everything. The soul of the
Prince of Naples had seen a vision. But
Crispi, the powerful minister of King Hum-
bert, thought a Princess of Montenegro too
farcical a royalty to share the throne of Italy.

Elena having been duly received into the Ro-
man Catholic faith, however, her marriage to
the man who has loved her with unremitting
devotion ever since, took place in October,
1896.

The three children of this union are said
to be responsible for the fact that Elena is
so little seen in public. Her first child, the
Princess Yolanda, was born in 1901, eleven
months after the tragic death of King Hum-
bert had brought his son to the throne. The
birth of a second daughter caused great dis-
appointment to the Italian people. The child
was christened Mafalda. At last, in Septem-
ber of 1904 Elena gave birth to Humbert,
Prince of Piedmont, who snatches the succes-
sion to the throne of Italy from the Duke of
Aosta. In her care of these little ones Elena
has studied fresh air, clothing, sleep and exer-
cise so assiduously that her husband's subjects
complain of the seclusion in which she lives.
Racconigi, one of the most delightful of the
various homes of the Italian royal couple,
shows Elena in her most maternal aspect.
The place is some twenty miles south of
Turin. In and out among the park ponds,
plentifully stocked with trout, wander the
princesses, the prince and the Queen. "No
royal child ever had more devoted or more
constant care," says Mrs. Batcheller of the
Prince of Piedmont.* "Nothing is ever allowed
to interfere with his wants and needs, and no
royal function of any sort can hope for the
Queen's presence if it interferes with H. R.
H.'s supper."

Queen Elena has inherited not only the
majestic height of the Montenegrin princes,
but nearly all the poetical talent transmitted
through generation after generation of those
royal mountaineers. Elena's father has writ-
ten dramas based upon such events in Monte-
negrin history as appeal most strongly to the
national pride. The Prince's verses deal effect-
ively with every variety of feeling, situation
and character. Queen Elena's poems reflect
sentiments of the purely personal kind. Her
latest book is made up wholly of stanzas in-
spired by the trials of one in a royal position.
The strain is at times lofty and impassioned.
But in the main, elegy seems best fitted to the
frame of mind from which the Queen's versi-
fication proceeds. The correspondence be-
tween the Queen of Italy and the Queen of
Roumania, which has subsisted long and
breathes a mutual love, is conducted in rhymed
stanzas.

'Glimpses of Italian Court Life. By Tryphosa Bates
Batcheller. Doubleday, Page & Company.

Literature and Art

IS GENIUS NEGLECTED BY THE MAGAZINES?

HE voice of "neglected genius" is
one that never grows faint in our
ears. In every generation there are
those who will not let us forget that
Milton sold his masterpiece for a song; that
Chatterton was goaded into suicide by an un-
charitable world; and that Keats died of a
broken heart. To-day in America a small
army of men who have evidently persuaded
themselves that they are the lineal descendants
of Milton and Keats are still raising the old
cry, Why is genius forsaken? And since in
our day and age the magazine editor is popu-
larly regarded as the real arbiter of genius,
this old cry has led to a new one. Why is
genius neglected by the magazines?

The New York Sun has lately opened its
columns to a discussion of this subject, and
the result is a correspondence of unusual in-
terest. One of the contributors says bluntly:
"There is no market for the product of
genius." He continues :

"Conditions to-day are just exactly the same
as in E. A. Poe's time. One may tramp the
streets of New York City with a valuable manu-
script in his pocket and starve. He may rnake
the 'rounds of the editors' with stories and articles
that are the result of twenty years' experience;
tales and treatises wherein there is nothing but
first-hand information that has been gathered at
a great cost, a tremendous sacrifice to the author ;
he may offer to editors products that contain
nearly all of the elements that make literary
genius; he can do all this and have all this and
still be compelled to stop on his journey to Edi-
tor Wise and grab a handful of free lunch. And
this in a land where enough good food is wasted
to feed an entire nation!"

A second unsuccessful aspirant contributes
a remarkable autobiographical document to
the discussion. He came from Canada to
New York, he asserts, with high literary am-
bitions, and was immediately struck by^ the
contrast between the best English magazines,
on which he had been nurtured, and the
American periodicals. He sent out his stories
to the magazines, but they were almost all re-
turned. Editors wrote him that his tales were
"not pleasant," or had an "unhappy ending,"
or were "gloomy," and the like. One editor
said: "Please stick to the realities of life."
He told this editor that he believed he had
struck a chord in real life, and he tried to find

out what the editor meant by "realities." He
gathered that under this term were included
"the affairs of the body, exterior happenings,
bodily adventures (always decorous, how-
ever; matters that a clergyman could view, or
young ladies watch) ; fights and wrecks and
plots and counterplots;" and he came to the
conclusion that his idea of "realities" was
something very different from this. To con-
tinue the narrative:

"I simply tried my best to relate honestly and
as finely as I could my own real impressions of
life to-day. And I found that such work would
not keep me from hunger. It may be, of course,
that I am not capable of writing such real works
in an adequate manner. Passing that point by, I
claim that even the attempt to write honestly of
real life is discouraged in every possible manner
by the magazine editors, the publishers and the
theatrical managers of the day. I assert that they
do not want to consider honest literary work;
that they are not capable (the most of them) of
judging, or even recognizing, honest literary
work. I accuse them of moral dishonesty, wit-
ting and unwitting. I say that their criterions are
false, and that with rare exceptions the stuff they
foist on the public is trivial, banal, false and
fraudulent in the highest degree."

"I had been slaving on an honest novel,"
the same correspondent goes on to say. But
it was rejected, and he became discouraged
and began to write "pot-boilers." He set to
work on a new novel that he thought might
meet the demands of the market. It took him
just five days, and he sold it in a week for
nearly $300. The rest was easy :

"I banged off on the typewriter magazine fic-
tion, articles ; acceptances here, there, all around ;
with cupids dancing on the keyboard, matinee
young ladies and musical comedy young heroes
surrounding me; sexual interest (false and slushy
sexual interest) everywhere.

"Gold bricks ! '

"And anybody can produce them. Of course,
there are manufacturers of this brand of writing
who are really honest, who think that way and
write that way. Peace and the best of luck to
all honest craftsmen! They have their place,
even as Bowery whisky sellers have. At any
rate, my stuff won't harm readers as much as the
real stuff, for it lacks conviction. But the foolish
editors buy it. I'll go on; what else is there for
me to do? I, too, must live and graft."

These sentiments find an echo in many of
the letters printed by The Sun. But by no
means all of the correspondents take a view

i66

CURRENT LITERATURE

of magazine conditions so pessimistic. Mr.
Gustav Kobbe, the well-known writer on musi-
cal topics, thinks that the real trouble lies not
so much with the editors as with the so-called
"geniuses." "They have," he says, "what often
is misconstrued as genius — an abnormal desire
to produce something great without a corre-
sponding creative faculty." A second cor-
respondent thinks that "the man who returns
your story comes pretty near knowing what he
is about — he wouldn't be at the head of a re-
sponsible magazine if he didn't." And a third,
"A Professional Writer," makes this comment :

"When a New York weekly magazine offered a
prize of $5,000 for the best short story submitted,
the committee of judges was chosen wholly outside
the magazine editorial field. These gentlemen re-
ported that of 12,000 manuscripts submitted not
10 per cent, were worth a second reading. The
scribbling public thinks that 'anybody can write

a story,' and that it will be better than 'the trash
they publish in the magazines.' The talk of an
editorial trust organized to bar these suffering
victims is childish and absurd. The competition
among editors is as keen as that among sellers of
any kind of merchandise. Every month there
appear stories by writers of no previous reputa-
tion. There was never a time when a writer with
sufficient talent and industry could find a readier
recognition or larger rewards.

"It is all tommyrot to say that Poe and Steven-
son and Hawthorne could not sell their stories
to a magazine to-dav. If the magazines are not
publishing great literature it is because America
has not the writers capable of turning it out.
Take Joseph Conrad, for example. He is writing
pure literature, and magazines are glad to pub-
lish it. Yet his stories have a very limited
popular appeal and his books have had an incon-
siderable sale. There is not a writer of recog-
nized literary talent in this country or England
to-day who has not found ready access to the
magazines regardless of his or her 'circulation
building' power."

BRUNETIERE'S THEORY OF LITERARY CRITICISM

;?|ERDINAND BRUNETIERE, who
1*^ died in Paris last month, is univer-
sally conceded to have been the
greatest systematic critic of con-
temporary French literature. Without pos-
sessing either the style of Hippolyte Taine or
the marvelous intuitions of Sainte-Beuve, he
became the master of critical methods that
have carried his name to the ends of the
world. These methods were primarily scien-
tific. Brunetiere was "more intent to weigh
and compare than to enjoy or help others to
enjoy," observes Jules Lemaitre. And M.
Louis Allard, of Harvard University, in an
article in the Boston Transcript, says :

"He believed that the function of criticism is
not only to explain, but to judge and to classify,
the works it considers. The principle of criticism
should not be individual feeling, which is often
capricious, and even fantastic, but reason ; that
is to say, that element of the critic's mind which
is in harmony with the most fixed and constant
and general and permanent characteristics of
human nature in all time and in all civilizations."

Building on this basic principle, Brunetiere
came to the conclusion that France's purest
literary period was that of the seventeenth
century. Tested by this same standard, he
held that much of the work of the modern
"realists," such as Zola, was futile and cor-
rupt. As M. Allard puts it:

"In this principle is the explanation of his whole
work, is the origin of all his ideas. What value
has he accredited to works of literature? A
value in proportion to their expression of human

truth, the most general, as the most impersonal
and universal. According to this idea has he es-
tablished the hierarchy of writers or of groups.
A work then is of value for its broadly human
character, for what it expresses of the norm of
human nature; and here his theory renews and
adds new life to the classic theory of Boileau.
For this reason he placed the literature of the
seventeenth century above that of any other, and
of the writers of that time, he placed Pascal and
Bossuet at the top. For this reason he looked
somewhat askance at the romantic literature, be-
cause it expressed more the particular than the
general, and most especially the ME, that is, the
most individual and the most unstable of the
whole being. If he praised anything in the poetry
of Lamartine or of Hugo, it was the expression
of the emotions common to all mankind. For the
morbid protrusion of personality as found in the
poetry of Baudelaire and of Verlaine, he felt
nothing but loathing. That affectation of inde-
cency. wTiich seems to be a part of present-day
naturalism, was most repugnant to his pure
nature, and he attacked it relentlessly, as well
as the search for minute detail and the peculiarly
personal trait — the unusual, in a word. All this
in a work, he declares, will perish, and the work
will last only because of the original expression,
in which the author clothes universal truth."

Brunetiere defended his point of view vig-
orously, and even bitterly, for he was some-
thing of a dogmatist by nature. "Sometimes,"
says M. Allard, "he went too far in his criti-
cisms ; he used the big stick, where a needle
would have been enough." Still, "he was
more impartial than is generaly believed, and
if, for instance, he did not value Zola at his
real worth, he did at least distinguish the

LITERATURE AND ART

167

ridiculous and indecent exaggerations of the
naturalistic school from the real services
which it rendered." Brunetiere's work, it
should be added, can only be truly estimated
when considered in its relation to the "impres-
sionist" school that preceded it — a school of
which Renan was the pontiff, and Anatole
France and Lemaitre are to-day the accom-
plished leaders. M. AUard writes in this con-
nection :

"It does not seem to me that the objection
which the impressionists have brought against
him, that he has simply created a system out of
his personal preferences and tastes, that the
foundation of his whole method is but a personal
inclination, in anv way weakens the integrity of
that theory. And besides, has he not always en-
deavored to enforce his preferences by his fund
of reasoning? And indeed it seems to me, that
he had an instinctive mistrust of all caprices and
surprises of feeling, and was inclined to be hostile
to all manifestations of individualism, which in
his eyes were a menace not only to literature,
which he took to be but the imitation of human
verity, but also to order, and to the best interests
of a well organized societ)-."

The same logic that drove Brunetiere into
the championship of the classical tradition
in literature, led him, quite inevitably, into the
Roman Catholic Church. For several years
previous to his death he was a stanch de-
fender of the authority of Rome. Most of
his essays, both on religious and literary sub-
jects, were first printed in the Revue des Deux
Mondes, of which he became the director in
1894. His best known works are entitled
"Etudes critiques sur I'Histoire de la Littera-
ture franqaise," "Nouvelles Etudes," and
"Histoire et Litterature." He was an excel-

Courtesy of Dotld, Mead & Company

THE GREATEST FRENCH CRITIC SINCE
TAINE AND SAlNTE-BEUVE

M. Brunetiere has been described as "a bureaucrat
of letters." He held it the duty of the critic to set
authoritative literary standards before the unlearned
public, and brought to this task untiring energy and
great erudition. He has died at the age of fifty-seven.

lent speaker as well as a writer, and at the
time of his death was one of the most influen-
tial members of the French Academy.

JAMES HUNEKER, AN INTERPRETER OF MODERNITY

HE name of James Huneker is asso-
ciated with every modern art move-
ment in America. "If," says Mi-
chael Monahan, in his extinct Papy-
rus, "there be in America or elsewhere any
man who has more art, literature and music
at his fingers' end than James Huneker, I
have not heard of him. Indeed," he goes on
to say, "I have only one criticism to pass upon
James — he writes overmuch about people who
are not nearly so interesting as himself." To
quote further:

"James is a wonderful blend of Celtic and Hun-
garian genius with the American spirit, and his
talents are as unusual as the racial combination
that produced him. An immediate Irish relative
of his bore a gallant part in the idealistic and

happily bloodless Fenian raid into Canada some
forty years ago. Another direct forbear was a
Hungarian music composer of no small renown.
James has given a striking proof that the Celtic
drop predominates in himself by adoring the
Fenian patriot and damning, critically, the Sla-
vonic master. The equation of the mingled ele-
ments of his blood might also be determined from
his literary style, which is fairly riotous with
provocation, suggesting the Irishman's well-
known description of whisky as a mixture of
ladies' charms and boxing gloves."

It appears from this that Mr. Huneker is
a literary prophet honored in his own country.
But not only there. We gather from the New
York Times Saturday Review that an
edition of his "Visionaries" has recently been
published in Bohemian, with an appreciation

i68

CURRENT LITERATURE

in the same language. And in the Tagehlatt
of Berlin we find an account of Mr. Hune-
ker's literary work and personality in which
he is spoken of as the greatest interpreter
of modernity on this side the ocean. "Hune-
ker," the writer continues, "is one of the
pathfinders of literary America; he points
the way to the future."

Mr. Huneker, we are told, interprets mod-
ernity, both in his critical work and in his
fiction. The great iconoclasts in music and
philosophy have always appealed to him most.
This may seem strange, for his early environ-
ment was not of a nature to foster such ten-
dencies. He studied several years for the
priesthood, but, happening to look out of the
seminary window one fine spring day, he saw
one of the prettiest of girls and was diverted
to secularism and letters. In appearance, how-
ever, he has never been quite able to overcome
the influence of his early training. On" meet-
ing him on the street one would be tempted to
mistake this exponent of Nietzsche and Ibsen
for a Roman Catholic priest. Subtlety of
psychological analysis and dialectic skill, these,
we read, Mr. Huneker owes to his Jesuit
teachers.

The peculiarity of his ancestry singled him
out to become the interpreter to his compa-
triots of the wonderful civilization beyond the
great water-wall, of which they knew little.
With the charming impudence of a young man
he started by stealing the literary thunder of
the French, their devil-worship and their wit.
Then, in conjunction with his friend. Vance
Thompson, he founded a semi-monthly.
Mademoiselle New York, one of the spright-
liest things that ever escaped the professional
moralists of the Comstock stamp. Unfor-
tunately, the critic exclaims, it did not pay
financially to throw pearls before the Ameri-
can public. It was used to a different diet.
When finally business prospects brightened,
other considerations forced the editors to dis-
continue their publication. However, like the
famous "Yellow Book," it had fulfilled its pur-
pose.

In all those years, the Tagehlatt critic in-
forms us, Huneker was wavering between two
loves: music and literature. In the former he
was more or less of a failure, at least in his
own opinion. It is an irony of fate, the
writer observes, that in spite of his fiasco as
a musician, Mr. Huneker is one of America's
first musical critics. It was he who took
up the cudgels for Richard Strauss in Amer-
ica, and in his first book of short stories,
"Melomaniacs," he is positively obsessed with

musical motives. Strauss, Chopin, and Liszt
are the musical trinity from whose spell he
cannot free his soul. In his second book of
short stories, "Visionaries," the musical mo-
tive is less strongly pronounced. But his
fiction, no less than his criticism, breathes
the spirit of modernity.

"Have you never written poetry?" Mr.
Huneker was once asked.

"Certainly," he replied, "but I possessed
the courage of my criticism not to publish
it." When he was very young — he is past
forty to-day — Mr. Huneker was one of Walt
Whitman's intimate circle. At that time he
wrote a ludicrous parody of the good gray
poet's "Children of Adam," and brought it
to him. Whitman, whose sense of humor was
very deficient, read and re-read the poem sev-
eral times. After a while he remarked and
without as much as a smile: "I've never writ-
ten anything so rank as that."

After this interesting diversion, the Tage-
hlatt writer speaks at length of Huneker's
critical accomplishments. As a critic, he
says, Mr. Huneker has no equal in America.
Maeterlinck, indeed, once spoke of him as
"the American Brandes." It was in a letter
to Huneker that Shaw for the first time ex-
pressed his condemnation of Candida as a
heartless woman. Ibsen and Nietzsche were,
if not for the first time, at least most impres-
sively interpreted in America by Huneker's
"Overtones" and "Iconoclasts." This, our
German critic insists, is the secret of Hune-
ker's success : he unites Hibernian wit with
German thoroness. To quote further :

"His genius is closely akin to the modern Ger-
many of Sudermann and Hauptmann. But Italy,
France, Sweden, Norway and Russia, too, he has
visited, at least, in spirit, to share the treasures of
their literary storehouses with his people. It is
significant that not a single of his essays in either
of his two critical books deals with an American
writer. Purposely or not, he has made himself
the interpreter of a foreign civilization."

"The more Huneker's reputation is increasing,
owing to his stories and critical essays, the
greater his influence upon the development of
American literature becomes. Without his pio-
neer work Ibsen, Shaw and Wilde would not have
been so readily accepted even by the cognoscenti.
His influence upon younger men is marked, but
he is no more 'popular' than the author of 'Pippa
Passes,' or Ibsen or Wilde. The highest aim that
an artist may aspire to is, after all, to impress his
personality upon an ever-growing number of men
of culture. The greater their number, the greater
the intellectual wealth of the nation. But even
that is not Huneker's aim. Art, in his opinion,
is self-suflScient. An English critic once observed,
foaming with rage : 'Mr. Huneker writes as if
art were the only object in life.' 'The devil!'
was Huneker's retort, 'It is, — to me.' "

LITERATURE AND ART

169

THE SIMPLE AND FANTASTIC GENIUS OF BLAKE

^HERE is surely no more remarkable
or romantic story in the annals of
artist endeavor than that which
tells of William Blake, the English
poet and painter. He was born amid the
gloom of a London November in 1757, and he
died in humble rooms in the same city seventy
years later, practically unrecognized and un-
known, ^e manifested throughout his life a
creative activity that was almost feverish in
its intensity, yet he cared so little for fame
that he took not the slightest pains to preserve
his work. Poems that have since been ex-
tolled by Swinburne and the most eminent
critics of our age were committed to scraps
of paper, or to hand-illuminated folios. The
only "editions" of much of his poetry were
those engraved by himself and his wife, and
issued in stray copies that drifted hither and
thither. Drawings and paintings that are now
beyond price, and have been compared with
those of Michael Angelo and Rembrandt, lay
for long years, undiscovered, in dusty attics
and damp cellars.

Charles Lamb was one of the few contem-
poraries of Blake who discerned his genius.
The Rossetti brothers, Dante Gabriel and
William Michael, were among the next to set
a high value on his achievement. Then came
Swinburne, with his "William Blake: A Criti-
cal Essay;" and the humble poet's reputation
was established beyond all cavil. Swinburne
recognized in him "the single Englishman of
supreme and simple poetic genius of his time,"
and his book, which has just been repub-
lished,* after forty years, is still regarded as
the best criticism and commentary on Blake
that exists. The standard life of Blake is by
Alexander Gilchrist. This, too, has been re-
cently reprinted,! with an essay by a London
artist, W. Graham Robertson. At the present
time new editions of Blake's writings and new
commentaries upon his art and life are mul-
tiplying with a rapidity that is almost bewil-

*WiLLiAM Blake: A Critical Essay. By Algernon
Charles Swinburne. E. P. Button & Company.

fTHE Life of William Blake. By Alexander Gilchrist.
Edited with an Introduction by W. Graham Robertson
and Numerous Illustrations. John Lane Company.

Courtesy of John Lane Company

"WHAT IS MAN THAT THOU SHOULDST TRY HIM EVERY MOMENT?"

(By William Blake)
One of a series of illustratjong tp the book of Job. In this mood WilUam Blake has been compared with
Michael Angelo.

170

CURRENT LITERATURE

Courtesy of John Lane Company

MADMAN OR GENIUS?

_ Some of Willipni Blake's contemporaries regarded

him as demented; but Swinburne recognized in him

"the single Englishman of supreme and simple poetic

genius of his time."

dering. Among the more recent volumes may
be mentioned: "The Life and Letters of Will-
iam Blake" (Scribner's), edited by A. G. B.
Russell; "William Blake: J Jlustr,itions of the
Book of Job" (London: Methuen), with an
Introduction by Laurence Binyon : "The

Poetical Works of William Blake" (London:
Chatto and Windus), edited by Edwin J.
Ellis; and "The Poetical Works of William
Blake"* (Oxford University Press), edited
by John Sampson. When to these are added
a study by Paul Elmer More in his newest
collection of "Shelburne Essays," and a dozen
magazine articles that have lately appeared in
England and America, it becomes evident that
William Blake has passed the stage of experi-
mental or tentative estimate. He takes his
place with the imrnortals.

The first element that strikes one in Blake's
work, both literary and pictorial, is its ex-
traordinary simplicity — a simplicity born in
mysticism and so childlike that it constantly
verges on the grotesque. He wrote for chil-
dren and angels, it has been said, himself "a
divine child" whose playthings were the sun
and stars. One theme preoccupied him in all
his writings, and it is expressed in the title
of his greatest book — "Songs of Innocence
and of Experience, showing the Two Con-
trary States of the Human Soul." The pur-
pose of these songs, which a writer in the
London Academy prophesies will outlive the
poetry of Shelley, is to reconcile the surpris-
ing and grave lessons of experience with those
joyous revelations which come to eyes newly
opened upon the world; and this, says Prof.
Walter Raleigh, is the problem of all poets.
Professor Raleigh continues:

"There is nothing in all poetry like the 'Songs
of Innocence.' Other writers — Hans Andersen,
for instance — have penetrated into that enchanted
country, have learned snatches of its language,

*Also issued in abridged form, with an Introduction by
Walter Raleigh. New York: Oxford University Press.

ALAS!

WHAT IS MAN?
THREE OF WILLIAM BLAKE'S ALLEGORIES

I WANT! I WANT!

LITERATURE AND ART

Courtesy of John Lane Company

THE GOOD AND EVIL ANGELS
(By William Blake)

"Shapes of elements, the running lines of water, the roaring lines of fire, the inert mass of strong earth;
above all, the naked human body in its numberless gestures and attitudes of effort or endurance" — such, says
Mr. Laurence Binyon, were the subjects that Blake delighted in.

and have seen some of its sights. But they are at
best still foreigners, observers, emissaries; the
golden treasures of innocence which they bring
back with them they coin into pathos and humor
for the use of their own countrymen. There is
no pathos in Blake's innocent world ; he is a
native of the place, and none of the natives sits
aloof to compare and ponder. There is no humor;
the only laughter heard in that Paradise is the
laughter of woods, and streams, and grasshoppers,
and the sweet round mouths of human children.
There the day is a festival of unceasing wonders,
and the night is like the sheltering hand of God.
There change is another name for delight, and
the parting of friends is a prelude to new glories:

"Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
Where flocks have took delight.

Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
The feet of angels bright;

Unseen they pour blessing,

And joy without ceasing.

On each bud and blossom,

And each sleeping bosom.

"Death itself is an enterprise of high hope, an
introduction to the Angel with the bright key who
opens the long row of black coffins. Sorrow there
is, and pity for sorrow; tears and bewilderment
and darkness; but these things are all within the

scheme, and do not open vistas into chaos. When
the little boy is lost, God himself, dressed in white,
appears by his side and leads him back to his
weeping mother, to the world of daylight and
shepherds, and lions with golden manes. One
who has known this holy land, and has lived in it
until it was overrun by infidel invaders — how
should not his later life be a great crusade for its
recovery ? —

"Bring me my Bow of burning gold !

Bring me my Arrows of desire !
Bring me my Spear ! O clouds, unfold !

Bring me my Chariot of fire !

"I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand,

Till we have built Jerusalem

In England's green and pleasant Land."

Even in the "Songs of Experience" the old
simplicity and happiness reassert themselves.

"His whole-hearted joy in the world kept the
enemy for long at bay.

"For I dance,

And drink and sing.
Till some blind hand

Shall brush my wing.

172

CURRENT LITERATURE

Courtesy ol John Lane Company

THE ANCIENT OF DAYS
William Blake's portrayal of Jehovah measuring the earth
His compass.

"He does not agonize with the Fate that holds
him in its grasp ; his peaceful, almost infantine,
submission to the Power that is so cruelly strong
in its dealings with those who struggle against it,
saved him from anything like a tragedy of
thought. He lay stilly and knew no fear. The
trouble, when it came to him, came in the form,
not of doubt, but of bewilderment and sorrow of
heart. The reign of love and of natural happy
impulse is partial and precarious. Against it are
ranked all the baser passions — fear, envy, anger,
jealousy, covetousness — which Blake unites under
the single name of Self-hood. . . .

"While the soul is a fount of action, spending
itself without stint on outward objects, joy and
faith are supreme; but when its activities flag,
when it becomes distrustful of itself and afraid of
the world, defensive, secretive, eager to husband
its resources, it falls under the control of Satan,
and reasons, and doubts, and inhibits, and meas-
ures, and denies. Everything that it touches is
blighted by the contact.

"He who bends to himself a joy
Doth the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in Eternity's sunrise."

Not all of Blake's poetry is as coherent as
that given here, and not all of his commenta-

tors are as sympathetic as Professor
Raleigh. He was a poet of flashes and fit-
ful outbursts, and did not always trouble
to round out his thought or his inspira-
tion. As Mr. G. L. Strachey, a writer in
The Independent Review (London), puts
it : "Blake was an intellectual drunkard.
His words come down to us in a rapture
of broken fluency from impossible, in-
toxicated heights. His spirit soared
above the empyrean; and, even as it
soared, it tumbled in the gutter." Some
of the poems of William Blake read like
the ravings of a lunatic. Of his later
and more complex "Prophetic Books,"
with their rushing eloquence and .strange
symbolism, Mr. Paul Elmer More
writes :

"The travail of soul that went into the
recording of those apocalyptic visions is like
nothing so much as some Titanic upheaval
of nature, accompanied with vast outpour-
ings of fire and smoke and molten lava,
with rending and crushing and grinding,
and with dark revelations of earth's un-
fathomable depths. And afterwards, in
midst of these gnarled and broken remains,
he who seeks shall find scattered bits of col-
ored stone, flawed and imperfect fragments
for the most part, with here and there a
rare and starlike gem."

The simple idealism and fantastic
imagery which distinguish Blake's po-
etry are just as clearly marked in his
art. No artist has as yet done for the
pictures of Blake what Swinburne has
done for his poems, but his place as a world-
figure in art is now assured. Never before,
it may be stated confidently, has a great
genius perpetrated such artistic atrocities as
Blake was sometimes guilty of creating.
The story is told of how Arthur Symons
once showed some of Blake's drawings to
Rodin, the great French sculptor. "Blake
used literally to see those figures," said Mr.
Symons; "they are not mere invention."
"Yes," replied the sculptor; "he saw them
once; he should have seen them three or four
times!" The artist in Blake was too often
supplanted by the poetic scribbler, and the
worst of his pictures have the same kind
of irresponsibility as the worst of his poems.
Nevertheless, it must be added, he brought to
his art a spirit creative in the highest sense.
He had something nezu to express, and he
succeeded in expressing it. "Shapes of ele-
ments, the running lines of water, the roaring
lines of fire, the inert mass of strong earth;
above all, the naked human body in its num-
berless gestures and attitudes of effort or en-

with

LITERATURE AND ART

173

durance" — such, says Mr. Laurence
Binyon, were the subjects that Blake
delighted in. Mr. Binyon says further
{Independent Review) :

"Throughout Blake's art the image of
fire and flame is a constant and haunting
presence. It inspires his design so much
that not only do these wavering yet ener-
getic forms play a signal part in his decora-
tions, but the human bodies that people his
art bend and float and aspire, rush, recoil,
embrace, and tremble, with an accordant
vehemence of motion. There was indeed
somethink flamelike in the nature of the
man himself. . . .

"Rhythmical line, radiant color — mastery
of these is of the essence of art; and in the
shapes of the fire Blake could find, without
distortion, a theme entirely congenial to his
eye and hand. But it was also congenial to
his soul. I can not remember that any other
European artist has treated this element
with the peculiar imaginative joy of Blake.
Those who have painted scenes of fire, from
Raphael to Millais, have made the human
terror and human courage evoked their
subject. But of Blake I can not but think
that he rejoiced with his flames in their
destruction of the materials of this world.
Here certainly we seem to find an attitude
quite opposite to that of the normal painter,
prizing so much the world's fair surface
that ministers to his work and his delight.
Yet the opposition is only apparent. It could
only be real if art were indeed but imitation
of nature. But art is never this. All crea-
tive minds, in whatever sphere they work,
need to destroy the world that they may re-
build it new. Blake is only an extreme
type."

Blake has been described as "an artist so
eager for perfection that he could not submit
to the laws of art;" but in all his greatest
work he made his own laws, and lived up to
them. The painter Romney ranked the his-
torical drawings, of Blake with those of
Michael Angelo; and Mr. Graham Robertson
speaks of his "Illustrations of the Book of
Job" as having "crowned the world's greatest
poem with an added glory."

Enough has been said to make it clear that
Blake was much more than poet and painter
only. He was seer and philosopher — a
prophet with a gospel all his own. He claimed
to have communion with the great spirits of
the past, and sometimes he talked to his
friends so strangely that they wondered
whether he spoke in parable, or whether he
was mad. But his biographer, Alexander Gil-
christ, thinks that this was but the attitude
of a prosaic world toward a man who, in
Swinburne's phrase, was "drunken with the
kisses of God." "So far as I am concerned,"
says Mr. Gilchrist, loyally, "I would infinitely

THE REUNION OF SOUL AND BODY
(By William Blake)

rather be mad with William Blake than sane
with nine-tenths of the world." He con-
tinues :

"When, indeed, such men are nicknamed 'mad,'
one is hrought in contact with the difficult prob-
lem, 'What is madness?' Who is not mad — in
some other person's sense, himself, perhaps, not
the noblest of created mortals? Who, in certain
abstruse cases, is to be the judge? Does not
prophet or hero always seem 'mad' to the respect-
able mob, and to polished men of the world, the
motives of feeline and action being so alien and
incomprehensible ?"

In an article in the New York Times Satur-
day Review, Prof. Lewis N. Chase likens
William Blake to John Bunyan. These are
"the two and the only two great visionaries of
English literature," he avers. Mr. Graham
Robertson prefers a comparison with Walt
Whitman as the poet "most akin" to Blake.

But comparisons of Blake with Bunyan and
with Whitman hold good only at certain
points. After all is said, William Blake re-
mains unique. He was a prophet without dis-
ciples. He had no predecessors, and he is
not likely to have any successors.

174

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE PRESIDENT'S TRIBUTE TO THE IRISH SAGAS

RESIDENT ROOSEVELT is
known to be an incessant reader,
and once in a while he tells us what
he reads and what he has learned
from his reading. A year ago it was Ameri-
can poetry that engaged his pen. Now it is
the Irish sagas. "Next to developing original
writers," he remarks in an article in the Janu-
ary Century, "the most fortunate thing, from
the literary standpoint, which can befall any
people is to have revealed to it some new
treasure-house in literature." In this spirit
he calls attention to the ancient Celtic and
Erse manuscripts as forming "a body of prose
and poetry of great and wellnigh unique in-
terest from every standpoint." The Presi-
dent confesses to a special admiration for the
cycle of sagas which tell of the mighty feats
of Cuchulain and of the heroes whose life-
threads were interwoven with his. This series
of poems dates back to a purely pagan Ireland
— "an Ireland cut off from all connection with
the splendid and slowly dying civilization of
Rome, an Ireland in which still obtained an-
cient customs that had elsewhere vanished
even from the memory of man." To quote
further :

"The customs of the heroes and people of the
Erin of Cuchulain's time were as archaic as the
chariots in which they rode to battle. The sagas
contain a wealth of material for the historian.
They show us a land where the men were herds-
men, tillers of the soil, hunters, bards, seers, but,
above all, warriors. Erin was a world to herself.
Her people at times encountered the peoples of
Britain or of Continental Europe, whether in
trade or in piracy; but her chief interest, her
overwhelming interest, lay in what went on
within her own borders. There was a high
king of shadowy power, whose sway was vague-
ly recognized as extending over the island, but
whose practical supremacy was challenged on
every hand by whatever king or under-king felt
the fierce whim seize him. There were chiefs
and serfs ; there were halls and fortresses ; there
were huge herds of horses and cattle and sheep
and swine. The kings and queens, the great
lords and their wives, the chiefs and the famous
fighting men, wore garments crimson and blue
and green and saffron, plain or checkered, and
plaid and striped. They had rings and clasps
and torques of gold and silver, urns and mugs
and troughs and vessels of iron and silver. They
played chess by the fires in their great halls, and
they feasted and drank and quarreled within
them, and the women had sun-parlors of their
own."

Of the tales that go to make up the Cuchu-
lain cycle the President selects for special

mention the "Fate of the Sons of Usnach,"
the "Wooing of Emer," the "Feast of Bricriu,"
and the story of the great raid to capture
the dun bull of Cooley, which is said to be
the most famous romance of ancient Ireland.
The "sons of Usnach" were Naisi, the hus-
band of the beautiful Deirdre, and his two
brothers. All four fled from Ulster to Scot-
land; and Deirdre sang of her protectors:

"Much hardship would I take,

Along with the three heroes;

I would endure without house, without fire.

It is not I that would be gloomy.

"Their three shields and their spears
Were often a bed for me.
Put their three hard swords
Over the grave, O young man!"

Emer, the bride of Cuchulain, had the "six
gifts of a girl" — beauty, and a soft voice, and
sweet speech, and wisdom, and skill in needle
work, and chastity; "she was true to him,"
says Mr. Roosevelt, "and loved him and
gloried in him and watched over him until
the day he -went out to meet his death." In
all these tales Bricriu appears as "the cun-
ning, malevolent mischief-maker, dreaded for
his biting satire and his power of setting by
the ears the boastful, truculent, reckless and
marvelously short-tempered heroes among
whom he lived." To quote again :

"The heroes are much like those of the early
folk of kindred stock everywhere. They are
huge, splendid barbarians, sometimes yellow-
haired, sometimes black or brown-haired, and
their chief title to glory is found in their feats
of bodily prowess. Among the feats often enu-
merated or referred to are . the ability to leap
like a salmon, to run like a stag, to hurl great
rocks incredible distances, to toss the wheel,
and, like the Norse berserkers, when possessed
with the fury of battle, to grow demoniac with
fearsome rage."

If the heroes of the Irish sagas were the
tempestuous creatures of a barbaric age, the
heroines, so Mr. Roosevelt makes us feel,
were tender and womanly, in almost the mod-
ern sense. "Emer and Deirdre," we are told,
"have the charm, the power of inspiring and
returning romantic love that belonged to the
ladies whose lords were the knights of the
Round Table." It is true they were not all
of this kind. Says Mr. Roosevelt:

"There were other Irish heroines of a more
common barbarian type. Such was the famous
warrior-queen, Meave, tall and beautiful, with
her white face and yellow hair, terrible in her

LITERATURE AND ART

175

battle chariot when she drove at full speed into
the press of fighting men, and 'fought over the
ears of the horses.' Her virtues were those of a
warlike barbarian king, and she claimed the like
large liberty in morals. Her husband was Ail-
ill, the Connaught king, and, as Meave carefully
explained to him in what the old Erse bards
called a 'bolster conversation,' their marriage
was literally a partnership wherein she demanded
from her husband an exact equality of treatment
according to her own views and on her own
terms ; the three essential qualities upon which
she insisted being that he should be brave, gen-
erous, and completely devoid of jealousy!

The Erse tales have suffered from many
causes. "Taken as a mass," says the Presi-
dent, in concluding, "they did not develop as
the sagas and the epics of certain other na-
tions developed;" but, nevertheless, he thinks,
"they possess extraordinary variety and
beauty, and in their mysticism, their devotion
to and appreciation of natural beauty, their
exaltation of the glorious courage of men and
of the charm and devotion of women, in all
the touches that tell of a long-vanished life,
they possess a curious attraction of their
own." He adds:

"They deserve the research which can be given
only by the lifelong effort of trained scholars;
they should be studied for their poetry, as count-
less scholars have studied those early literatures;
moreover, they should be studied as Victor Ber-
ard has studied the 'Odyssey,' for reasons apart
from their poetical worth; and finally they de-
serve to be translated and adapted so as to be-
come a familiar household part of that literature

which all the English-speaking peoples possess
in common."

The New York Evening Post finds this ar-
ticle interesting not only in itself, but as an
expression of the taste and mental attitude of
our Chief Magistrate. "In this too brief
paper," it comments, "we see again the Theo-
dore Roosevelt who has related with such
gusto his experiences in ranching and hunt-
ing, and who has chronicled with such vivac-
ity and sympathy the prowess of those
mighty men who won the Wegt." It con-
tinues :

"In this revelation his mind shows a sugges-
tive kinship with that of Thomas Carlyle. It
was one of Carlyle's pleasures to dwell on the
virtues and the achievements of the heroic man —
the man whose power of arm or of leadership
raised him above his fellows and made him a
law unto himself. . . . The glorious courage
of President Roosevelt's Irish chieftains and of
Thomas Carlyle's berserkers was just the thing
for an unsettled state of society, when law had
not yet brought order out of chaos; but exactly
that kind of valor is no longer worthy of imita-
tion by those who would be strenuous. That
glorious courage may. still have play in the field
of moral forces. We may be brave enough to
refuse, as individuals or as a nation, to be drawn
into savage and wicked quarrels. We may be
brave enough to rest in the security of doing
justly rather than rnaintaining a vast naval force.
We may also remember that the age of the ape
and the tiger, of Cuchulain and Eric Blood-ax,
has passed; that these splendid fighters were,
after all, barbarians ; and that the strong man of
to-day must show his strength through and under
the law."

THE TWO NATURES IN ROUSSEAU

HE dual nature of genius has fur-
nished countless fascinating themes
for biographers and critics, as well
as for novelists and poets; and the
general public has never shown itself indif-
ferent to the discussion of those frailties
which seem almost inseparable from the lives
of men of the highest creative talents. Goethe,
Victor Hugo, Byron, Shelley, Richard Wag-
ner, Edgar Allan Poe — none have escaped the
blackening tongue of gossip. And Rousseau,
the practical discoverer of the democratic
principle in our time, the father of the ro-
mantic school in modern literature, has fared
as- badly as any of them. Was there ever a
choicer morsel for gossip-mongers, a more
interesting study for psychologists, than that
presented by the spectacle of this great philos-

opher who chose to describe his amours in
minutest detail; of this epoch-making writer
on education who is charged with having
committed his own children to a foundling
asylum? There can be no doubt that Rous-
seau has been slandered. Voltaire's state-
ments, in an anonymous pamphlet, that the
author of "The Social Contract" and "The
New Heloise" bore upon him "the marks of
debauchery" and "exposed his children at the
door of a hospital," are now known to have
been the outgrowth of spleen and malice. It
is also known that Rousseau was the victim
of other persecutors who deliberately dis-
torted the facts of his life. But after all has
been said in extenuation, he remains a decid-
edly unattractive, if not repulsive, character,
and many will sympathize with Sir Leslie

i;6

CURRENT LITERATURE

MADAME DE WARENS

Whose love affair with Rousseau is vividly described
in the great philosopher's "Confessions." It was of
this book, and more particularly of the part relating
to Madame de Warens, that Sir Leslie Stephen said
that whatever might be our differences of opinion
about the author of the "Confessions," we must all
agree that no gentleman could have written them.

Stephen's dictum that whatever might be our
differences of opinion about the author of the
"Confessions," we must all agree that no gen-
tleman could have written them.

A determined effort is being made in our
day to set the character of Rousseau in a more
favorable light. Mrs. Frederika Mac-
donald, an English lady well versed in
French literature, has devoted twenty
years to an investigation of the worst
charges that have been made against
him, and publishes the results of her
research in two bulky volumes.* She
comes to the conclusion that "an en-
tirely false reputation of Rousseau has
been handed down to us"; and she asks
us to share her conviction that "his
private life was an example, in an artifi-
cial age, of sincerity, independence, and
disinterested devotion to great prin-
ciples," and that "his virtuous character
lent authority to his writings."

In one respect Mrs. Macdonald is felt to
have been completely successful. She proves
beyond any reasonable doubt that Rousseau's
character was systematically defamed by a
clique of three, who were at first among his
dearest friends, and later became his bitterest
enemies. These three were the Baron Grimm,
the encyclopedist Diderot, and Madame d'Epi-
nay. In the lights of the new facts, it becomes
evident that the "Memoires de Madame
d'Epinay," hitherto accepted as an authority
of the first consequence on the life of Rous-
seau, are quite valueless. Documents are
photographed to show that the "Memoires"
were grossly tampered with, and that libelous
passages were interpolated. So that many of
the "crimes" charged against Rousseau, such
as anonymous letter-writing, ingratitude, cal-
umny, spiteful temper, treachery toward
Diderot, etc., will have to be discounted.

When it comes to clearing Rousseau of the
more serious charge of deserting his own chil-
dren, Mrs. Macdonald seems to have failed.
Her theory is extraordinary indeed. She
contends that Rousseau did not commit his
new-born children to a foundling asylum, for
the very good reason that he never had any
children. At least, she says, no such children
figure in the records of the Hospice des En-
fants Trouves, in Paris. The supposed ma-
ternity of Therese Levasseur, we are asked to
believe, was an elaborate pretense designed
to establish further claims upon the supposed
father's aft'ection. This theory, it may be
stated here, is very generally scouted by the
London press. The Times Literary Supple-
ment regards it as "preposterous;" and adds:
"Even if Mrs. Macdonald's theory is correct,
Rousseau's reputation does not gain very

•Jean Jacques Rousseau: A New Criticism. By
Frederika Macdonald. Imported by G. P. Put-
nam's Sons.

THE VILLAGE IN WHICH ROUSSEAU WAS MOBBED

During the latter part of his life Rousseau lived for several
years in the Swiss village of Motiers. It was while a habitant of
the house shown in the picture opposite to the tree, that popular
resentment against his writings rose so high that he was stoned.

LITERATURE AND ART

177

much. Even if he was the victim of a decep-
tion, he certainly believed himself to be get-
ting rid of his children in this barbarous man-
ner, and must be judged accordingly."

The London Outlook finds Mrs. Macdon-
ald's narrative as interesting as a detective
story, and concedes the truth of her conten-
tion in the matter of the "Memoires." As a
rehabilitation of Rousseau, however, it re-
gards her book as a failure. It comments :

"In the attempt to
clear that great man's
lame of the evil that
clings to it we can-
not see that she
has advanced one
step. What is it to
our time to know
that three petulant
persons, full of the
passion of a self-im-
portant intellectual-
ism, put their heads
together to 'show up'
a man whom they
honestly (we venture
to think) believed to
be so contemptible a
character that no in-
fluence wielded by
him could be other
than noxious? They
had changed their
minds about Rous-
seau. Who that has
read the story can
blame them for that?
If they showed a
stunted spirit in elab-
orating disclosures
which nobility would
never have made,
they acted after their
kind. A generation
that has seen the
squabble over the
graves of Thomas
Carlyle and his wife
cannot cast a stone at
them. If their eyes
were blind to the
tragedy of that awful
strife between soul
and body of which
their friend was the
battle-ground, if they

could not see that half of what they found
evil in him was mere pathology, we are- not
yet wise enough to contemn them. If one
should seek an example of the kind of tem-
per in which desperate deeds of misconcep-
tion and injustice are done, one might find it
exemplified in Mrs. Macdonald's own writing,
acrid and intemperate as it is, and penetrated with
the motive of relentless antagonism. Such hero-
worship can scarcely sweeten so much railing
bitterness against the enemy. Rousseau, the man,
needs no defense of this sort. That he needed
any defense had not occurred to us until these
volumes suggested it. With what agony and sor-

did pams ideas are often brought into the com-
munities of mankind we know. As to the charac-
ter of Rousseau, modern criticism has not been
lightly led astray— not. at least, in England, where
the waters of the Revolution have ceased to toss
the minds of men. His strange mingling of no-
bility and vileness has not been learned from the
writings of those who are here called 'the con-
spirators,' but from the body of his own work and
from the instinctive apprehension of personality
that the critic cultivates."

Mr. James Huneker,

JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU
(From a painting by Ramsay)

"Jean Jacques," Carlyle once said, "was alternately deified
and cast to the dogs," according to the point of view. The
latest researches into Rousseau's life and character have only
added to the mystery of his dual personality.

who writes on the
subject in the New
York Times Satur-
day Review, formu-
lates«an even severer
indictment against
Rousseau :

"Guilty or not,
Rousseau and the
whole crowd were an
unsavory stew. No
one can ever clear
him of having
sponged on women
his life long. And
from his own mem-
oirs come the worst
accusations against
him. If ever a man
deserved a place in
the works of psy-
chopathic specialists
that man is Jean
Jacques Rousseau. It
is charitable to as-
sume that he was of-
ten not far from
madness ; his life
contained every sort
of moral degeneracy,
and by his own ad-
mission. Surely his
memoirs were not
forged ; besides, his
epoch is not so far
away that his truth-
ful contemporaries
must be no longer
heard. There is no
doubt about the
treacheries of his
companions ; Mrs.
Macdonald has not
gone into the matter
so deeply without securing indubitable evi-
dence against Rousseau's assailants. But, grant-
ing the case, isn't Rousseau about where he
stood before — i.e., as to the fundamental quali-
ties of his character? He was a genius, a power-
ful prose writer, an original thinker, a disordered
imagination, a loose liver; also something worse;
a pathologic case ; and a benefactor, an enemy of
mankind in many particulars. As Ibsen once
said : 'It is a pity that our best thoughts occur to
our biggest blackguards.' "

The fact is, says the London Saturday Re-
view in summing up the whole discussion.

i7S

CURRENT LitERAtURE

THE AUTHOR OF "BEN-HUR"

Lew Wallace's famous book has had a wider circu-
lation than any other American novel, with the single
exception of "Uncle Tom's Cabin."

there were two men in Rousseau, the one an
eloquent writer with the gift of touching
many hearts with love of virtue or things of
the spirit, the other "a man if not exactly of
a vile character, yet of a very complex and
imperfect one." The same paper continues :

"He was the victim of an over-excited imagina-
tion which exaggerated mole-hills into mountains :
a man whose morbid love of introspection led him
to submit his conduct and his motives to an over-
elaborate analysis which is salutary neither be-
fore a confessor nor one's own conscience, and
which tends only to degrade the moral sense, and
to paralyze the power of right action. If we add
to these grave faults an overmastering egoism and
vanity and a jealous and suspicious spirit, we may
perhaps understand him.

"Hence his hysterical behavior under the in-
fluence of external nature, and his exaltation of
emotion above intelligence. Hence his frantic de-
votion to his friends and more specially his
woiTien friends as long as they continued to wor-
ship him, and his jealousy and violence when he
thought that they were allowing others to share
the exclusive empire he had hitherto wielded over
them, or when they disputed the originality or the
truth of his abstract theories. Hence his mis-
anthropy in actual life in spite of all his theories,
and finally, his utter want of sterling principle, a
want which in prosperity led him to many base
and unworthy acts, and in adversity left him rud-
derless before the storm, driven to the verge of
insanity if not to insanity itself."

HOW "BEN-HUR" CAME TO BE WRITTEN

vVENTY-SIX years ago President

Garfield ventured the prediction that

Gen. Lew Wallace's "Ben-Hur"

would "take a permanent and high
place in literature." His prophecy, extrava-
gant as it then seemed, has already been jus-
tified. It is true that General Wallace's novel
has won a popular rather than a critical suc-
cess ; but a novel that can grip the hearts of a
whole people becomes, by that very fact, a lit-
erary portent of the first order. With the
single exception of "Uncle Tom's Cabin," no
American book has equaled "Ben-Hur" in
popularity. It has been published in fourteen
editions, aggregating 1,000,000 copies. It has
been translated into German, French, Swed-
ish, Bohemian, Turkish, Italian, Spanish, Por-
tuguese and Arabic, and has been printed in
raised characters for the blind. In its dra-
matic version it has been witnessed by tens of
thousands of people in all our great cities.

An interesting account of the genesis of

this famous novel is given in the posthumous .Lew Wallace: An Autobiography. Harper & Brothers.

"Autobiography"* of Lew Wallace. General
Wallace once took the pains to formulate for
The Youth's Companion the motives that ac-
tuated him in writing "Ben-Hur;" and this
article, tagether with other material bearing
on the subject, is printed in the new work.
It seems that General Wallace first started the
book as a novelette which he intended to offer
to Harper's Magazine; but the story soon out-
grew its original design. 1875 was the year
in which he began "Ben-Hur," and it oc-
cupied him for seven years. During a great
part of this time he was Governor of New
Mexico, trying, as he said in a letter to his
wife, to "manage a legislature of most jealous
elements," to "take care of an Indian war,"
and to "finish a book" — that book being
"Ben-Hur." In the dead of night, and only
then, was he able to escape the multitudinous
demands that pressed upon him. It was his
custom to retire from his executive offices in

LITERATURE AND ART

1/9

the old palace at Santa Fe to a kind of secret
chamber in the rear. Once there, at his rough
pine table, "the Count of Monte Cristo was
not more lost to the world." Not all of "Ben-
Hur," however, was written in Santa Fe. A
considerable portion of the book was tran-
scribed by General Wallace beneath the shade
of a majestic beech-tree near his Indiana
homestead. And certain other passages were
"blocked out on the cars 'between cities' or
in the waits at lonesome stations."

The motive for "Ben-Hur" is said to have
come to the author after a straightforward
talk one evening with IngersoU on the eternal
religious theme — God, Christ and immortality.
He writes:

"Trudging on in the dark, alone except as one's
thoughts may be company good or bad, a sense of
the importance of the theme struck me for the
first time with a force both singular and per-
sistent.

"My ignorance of it was painfully a spot of
deeper darkness in the darkness. I was ashamed
of myself, and make haste now to declare that the
mortification of pride I then endured, or, if it be
preferred, the punishment of spirit, ended in a
resolution to study the whole matter, if only for
the gratification there might be in having convic-
tions of one kind or another.

"Forthwith a number of practical suggestions
assailed me: How should I conduct the study?
Delve into theology? I shuddered. The theology
of the professors had always seemed to me an in-
definitely deep pit filled with the bones of un-
profitable speculations.

"There were the sermons and commentaries.
The very thought of them overwhelmed me with
an idea of the shortness of life. No; I would read
the Bible and the four gospels, and rely on myself.
A lawyer of fifteen or twenty years' practice at-
tains a confidence peculiar in its mental muscu-
larity, so to speak."

Thus was born the idea of a great gospel
story, which should tell of the birth and of
the death of Christ, which should make the
Messiah live again in the imagination of our
time. It was an idea that bristled with diffi-
culties. At this period General Wallace had
not so much as set foot in Palestine. He says :

"I had never been to the Holy Land. In mak-
ing it the location of my story, it was needful not
merely to be familiar with its history and geog-
raphy,— I must be able to paint it, water, land,
and sky, in actual colors. Nor would the critics
excuse me for mistakes in the costumes or cus-
toms of any of the peoples representatively intro-
duced, Greek, Roman, Egyptian, especially the
children of Israel.

"Ponder the task! There was but one method
open to me. I examined catalogues of books and
maps, and sent for everything likely to be useful.
I wrote with a chart always before my eyes--a
German publication, showing the towns and vil-
lages, all sacred places, the heights, the depres-
sions, the passes, trails, and distances.

"Travelers told me of the birds, animals, vege-
tation, and seasons. Indeed, I think the necessity
for constant reference to authorities saved me
mistakes which certainly would have occurred had
I trusted to a tourist's memory."

An even greater difficulty was that pre-
sented by the handling of the Christ-theme.
"The Christian world would not tolerate a
novel with Jesus Christ as its hero," says Gen-
eral Wallace, "and I knew it. Nevertheless,
writing of Him was imperative, and He must
appear, speak and act." The author of "Ben-
Hur" settled this difficulty in the following
way:

"I determined to withhold the appearance of the
Saviour until the very last hours. Meantime, He
should be always coming — to-day I would have
Him, as it were, just over the hill yonder; to-
morrow He will be here, and then — to-morrow.
To bring Balthasar up from Egypt, and have him
preaching the Spiritual Kingdom, protesting the
Master alive because His mission, which was
founding the kingdom, was as yet unfulfilled, and
looking for Him tearfully, and with an infinite
yearning, might be an effective expedient.

"Next, He should not be present as an actor in
any scene of my creation. The giving a cup of
water to Ben-Hur at the well near Nazareth is
the only violation of this rule.

"Finally, when He was come, I would be re-
ligiously careful that every word He uttered
should be a literal quotation from one of His
sainted biographers."

General Wallace assures us that when he
started "Ben-Hur" he was "indifferent" to
religion, but that long before he had finished
it he was "a believer in God and Christ." The
year after "Ben-Hur" appeared he was ap-
pointed Minister to Turkey, and one of the
advantages of his position, he afterward
wrote, was that it gave him an opportunity to
visit Jerusalem and Judea, under the most
favorable circumstances. He took advantage
of this opportunity to test the accuracy of the
descriptions given in "Ben-Hur," and the re-
sult must have been most gratifying to him.
As he tells the story:

"I started on foot from Bethany, proceeding
over the exact route followed by my hero, walked
to Mount Olivet, saw the- rock at which the
mother and sister waited for Christ to come and
heal them of their leprosy. Then I went to the
top of Olivet and saw the identical stone, as I
thought, upon which my hero sat when he re-
turned from the galley life. I went down into
the old valley of Kedron, and from the old well
of Enrogel looked over the valley, and every
feature of the scene appeared identical with the
description of that which the hero of the story
looked upon. At every point of the journey over
which I traced his steps to Jerusalem, I found the
descriptive details true to the existing objects and
scenes, and I find no reason for making a single
change in the text of the book."

Music and the Drama

THE OPERATIC TRIUMPH OF OSCAR HAMMERSTEIN

HEN Oscar Hammerstein was called
before the curtain on the opening
2J night of his new Opera House in
J New York, he stated very emphat-
ically that he alone had created this enter-
prise, and that he had had "no assistance,
financially or morally, from anybody." He
has reiterated this statement on several other
occasions. His attitude makes it clear that if
failure had been the lot of the new venture,
the responsibility would have been his. In
view of the great success that has come to the
Manhattan Opera, it seems only fair that he
should have the credit.

Of course, Mr. Hammerstein could not
have succeeded without the co-operation of
a host of others — singers, conductors, stage
managers, chorus, orchestra — but if, as has
often been maintained, the real test of genius
in any enterprise lies in the selection of the
right kind of partners and subordinates, the
efficient corps that the new impresario has
gathered around him is but a tribute to his in-
sight and astuteness.

"Mr. Hammerstein has done wonders — sim-
ply wonders," exclaimed Emma Eames, the
famous opera singer, after attending a per-
formance at the Manhattan; and her senti-
ment is echoed by much less enthusiastic tem-
peraments. Mr. W. J. Henderson, of the New
York Sun, pays a hearty tribute to Oscar
Hammerstein s "extraordinary achievement";
and Mr. Richard Aldrich, of the New York
Times, says:

"Mr. Hammerstein has gratified many and sur-
prised some by the excellence of much that he
has accomplished, and by the apparent spirit of
determination to do something that shall take
root in the New York musical soil. It will not,
of course, be denied that there are crudities and
weak spots and insufficiencies in Mr. Hammer-
stein's operatic presentations. But a review of
the first month of his activities makes it certain
that he has done something that is much in itself
and still more in what it promises."

Much of the popular interest in connection
with the new performances at the Manhattan
has naturally centered on the "stars," and
among these, it need hardly be said, Nellie
Melba and Alessandro Bonci shine the bright-
est. Melba, who is appearing in grand opera
in New York for practically the first time in
six years, was given a royal welcome when

she appeared in "La Traviata" the other even-
ing. Says The Times:

"Her engagement was Mr. Hammerstein's
trump card ; her coming was expected to put a
crown upon his eflforts in this opening season of
his opera house, and to give the new undertaking
its highest touch of distinction. So it was re-
garded by the opera-loving public of this city,
which crowded the house in numbers that have
not before been equaled at any of the regular
performances since the house was opened, and
gave it the appearance of brilliancy that it has
not had before. The opera was 'La Traviata,'
and with this and 'Romeo et Juliette' Madame
Melba's name has been more closely associated
in recent years than any other except Puccini's
'La Boheme.' . . .

"Her singing last evening showed her to be
still in the possession of all those marvelous qual-
ities of pure vocalism that have so often been
admired here in other years. Her voice has its
old-time lusciousness and purity, its exquisite
smoothness and fulness; it is poured out with
all spontaneity and freedom, and in cantilena and
in coloratura passages alike it is perfectly at her
command. Such a voice is a gift such as is
vouchsafed but rarely in a generation, and her
art is so assisted by nature, by the perfect adjust-
ment of all the organs concerned in the voice
that, like Patti's, it seems almost as much a gift
as the voice itself. Madame Melba's singing of
the music of Violetta was a delight from be-
ginning to end."

The redoubtable Bonci came here with a
big reputation to live up to, and, in the opinion
of the majority of the critics, has more than
"made good," His is "the finest male voice in
the world," according to the New York Even-
ing Journal. Mr. Lawrence Oilman, the
musical critic of Harper's Weekly, finds Bonci
greater in artistry, in "sheer skill and sen-
sitiveness," than Caruso, but less great in
natural endowment. He writes further:

"Mr. Caruso possesses what is probably the
most magnificent voice of its kind in the world — •
its beauty is obvious and overwhelming; but
scarcely less obvious to many is his distressing
misuse of it: his exaggerated sentiment, his abuse
of certain emotionalizing effects, his too ready
lachrimosity. A superb singer — one whom it is
often a delight of the keenest sort to hear; but
one who makes too frequent sacrifices to the gods
of the mob, and who is always less the artist than
the man of incomparable gifts. Mr. Bonci pre-
sents a totally different case. It is his misfortune
that he is unusually small of stature, and his
voice, too, is small ; but it is exquisitely beautiful,
and it is employed with the dexterity, the finish,
and the reposeful mastery of perfect and sufficient
art. . . . Caruso is the mort potent, the

LITERATURE AND ART

i8i

more influential, personality; Bonci the more de-
lightful and satisfying artist."

Not merely Melba and Bonci, but many of
the less celebrated singers, win their meed
of praise from the critics. Maurice Reynaud,
a French baritone, is conceded to be a singer
of the first rank; and Dalmores and Ancona,
Pauline Donalda and Regina Pinkert, are
characterized as artists of sincere purpose and
excellent accomplishment. "The perform-
ances at the Manhattan," remarks the New
York Sun, "have shown that there are good
singers in Europe who remain unknown to
this public, and that, the foreign field is by no
means so barren as New Yorkers had been
led to believe."

The two most brilliant performances so far
given by Mr. Ham-
merstein have been
those of "Carmen"
and "Aiida," and
their virtues are ex-
tolled by Mr. Ed-
ward Ziegler in the
New York World:

"Bizet's 'Carmen'
proved to be a rousing
performance; in many
particulars a model
'Carmen,' and to the
fact both the public
and the press attested.
The principals engaged
in this production have
nearly all been equaled
or eclipsed by their
colleagues at the Met-
ropolitan. Calve has
acted better than did
Bressler-Gianoli, Frem-
stad has sung better;
Saleza, at times, has
been the superior to
Dalmores as Don
Jose; the Micaela has
easily been heard to
better advantage at the
Metropolitan, and as
good a Toreador has
certainly been on the
boards many times.
Yet the 'Carmen' at the
Manhattan will live
long in the memories
of those who heard it
as a glowing produc-
tion, full of the lights
and shades that are so
essential to the beau-
ties of Bizet's masterly
score.

"These excellences
are principally to be
placed to the credit of
Cleofanto Campanini,

THE CREATOR OF THE MANHATTAN OPERA
HOUSE

"I am not proud," Mr. Hammerstein wrote lately
to The Musical Courier; "but I am healthy; and I
love to laugh and bring sunshine into the life of
others."

the conductor, and the chief reason why this pro-
duction, as a whole, outclassed the Metropolitan
'Carmen' was that Campanini is a more interesting
conductor than were his colleagues of the baton
at the other opera house. Instead of reading
'Carmen' in a cut-and-dried manner, as a thing to
be taken for granted, Campanini deals with the
most minute nuances, and colors his reading with
episodes that, trifling tho they may seem at the
moment, have their share in the design of the en-
tire fabric; and, naturally, against such a shim-
mering, tonal background the singing of all the
artists appears to greater advantage, and the
whole performance becomes a notable one.

"Much the same applies to the production at
the Manhattan of Verdi's 'Aida.' This work has
been partictilarly well performed at the Metro-
politan during recent seasons, with casts em-
bracing famous singers, with scenic display very
imposing in its pomp, and with an interpretation
at the hands of Conductor Vigna that has been
acknowledgedly the
best work of this con-
ductor. In the mattei
of singers and scenery
the Manhattan produc-
tion was not the best
version of this work
heard and seen here ;
but Campanini read a
swing and fire into this
opera, punctuating its
climaxes with dramatic
silences and imposing
crashes of music until
the audience was roused
to a pitch of extraordi-
nary enthusiasm."

In the contest be-
tween Mr. Hammer-
stein and Mr. Con-
ried, the musical pub-
lic has been the clear
gainer. It has wit-
nessed excellent per-
formances at the
Manhattan and at the
Metropolitan, and is
evidently willing and
ready to extend its sup-
port to both establish-
ments. "Why should
not the two opera
houses," suggests
The World, "restrict
themselves to pro-
grams along well-de-
fined lines which do
not conflict ?" The
Metropolitan, it
thinks, might special-
ize on Wagner, and
the Manhattan on the
Italian and French
schools.

l82

CURRENT LITERATURE

A RUSSIAN COMPOSER WITH A NEW MESSAGE

F all the ultra-moderns I recom-
mend to you Alexander Scriabine.
He is of all the most remarkable.
I wish every student in America to
know his piano music." In these ingratiating
words the new conductor of the Philharmonic,
Wassily Safonoff, has directed public attention
to one of his former pupils, the pianist-com-
poser, Scriabine, who has crossed the ocean
to introduce his music here. Scriabine is only
thirty-five years old, but he has already writ-
ten more than two hundred compositions. For
several years past he has lived in Paris. His
symphonies have been played in that city and

ALEXANDER SCRIABINE

Who has come to this country to interpret his
compositions. He is sometimes called "the Russian
Chopin." His symphonies have been played in Paris
and St. Petersburg, and his piano pieces are included
in the repertoire of Josef Hofmann and Lhevinne.

in St. Petersburg, and his piano pieces are
included in the repertoire of Josef Hofmann
and Lhevinne. He has been called "the Rus-
sian Chopin," but objects to the title. Rather,
says Florence Brooks, in The Modern Theatre
(New York), his work should be described as
a "development of Chopin." The same writer
continues :

"Where Chopin left off Scriabine begins. Upon
this foundation, more solid than the exquisite
Chopinesque spirit might impress itself as being,
his musical descendant builds a whole scheme of
music. He founds a school in which he brings
his art into an intellectual realm. He bases this
new school of composition upon a psychological
method whose perfected beginning was made by
Richard Wagner.

"Alexander Scriabine aims to establish his
compositions upon a whole philosophical system,
which, including certain precepts from Hegel, is
his own. Music and metaphysics, the human and
sublime, are to be fused. The unity of the uni-
verse is the large aim to be disclosed, a revelation
of the spiritual is to open before the sense, by
means of greater forms, larger vistas, undreamed-
of harmonies, and diviner laws."

Scriabine's best-known composition is a
piano "Prelude for Left Hand Alone," but he
refers to this depreciatingly, as a tour de
force rather than a serious work. He has
published more than sixty other preludes, as
well as etudes, impromptus, mazurkas, valses,
"allegros," "poemes," a polonaise, a fan-
tasie, and four sonatas, for the piano. A seri-
ous philosophic motive underlies all his com-
positions. His "Poeme Satanique," for in-
stance, represents "the sardonic raillery of
the Superman at the creatures beneath him";
and his Third Sonata is explained as follows :

"The work as a whole represents the struggle
of the soul for perfect freedom. The opening
Allegro Drammatico typifies the protest of the
spiritual against the material. In the Allegretto,
the soul having reached a higher plane of intro-
spection, the soul longs for obliteration of the
passion of love, that as the poet says 'is bitter
sorrow in all lands.' In the Finale, the soul,
through complete renunciation, attains a moment
of victorious enfranchisement, but unable to sus-
tain the struggle sinks back into the thrall of its
material environment."

Scriabine likens his philosophy to that of
the Hindu or the theosophist. He aims to ex-
press, he says, "evolution through life to ec-
stasy, the absolute differentiation which is
ecstasy, the ultimate elevation of all activity."
For the future he has tremendous plans. His
"Divin Poeme" and "Poeme Extase," he de-
clares, are but the preludes to new musical
forms, which will require two orchestras, a
chorus and solo voices, and will be given in a
specially constructed edifice in which the audi-
ence will have an integral part in the symbol
itself. Of scenery and action, as ordinarily
understood, there will be none. But above
the heads of the people will rise a great dome,
symbolizing the universe.

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

183

NOTABLE PLAYS OF THE MONTH IN AMERICA

N the occasion of his recent visit to
this country, Henry Arthur Jones,
from whose latest play, "The Hypo-
M crites," we reprint copious extracts
in this number, devoted considerable time to
the study of our stage. He is no less conver-
sant with the current of theatrical affairs in
England. And after revolving the question
long in his mind, he has come to the con-
clusion that the American theater is .superior
to the English theater, and has stated this
conclusion in print. In an argument provoked
by this utterance, in which Mr. Beerbohm
Tree and Mr. William Archer took a leading
part, Mr. Jones fairly established the truth of
his opinion that America is in advance of Eng-
land so far as the appreciation of plays is con-
cerned and so far as the future of a new
national drama may be foreshadowed by pres-
ent conditions. It is only necessary to com-
pare the list of plays that are now running in
the British capital with thos.e advertised in the
New York papers to see how much broader
the tastes of our audiences are. This is less
true of the past month than of any that pre-
ceded it. A notable revival was Maude
Adams's presentation of "Peter Pan." A dra-
matization of Hugo's "Les Miserables" proved
an artistic failure, while a dramatization of
McCutcheon's novel "Brewster's Millions"
was a decided hit. The plays discussed this
month are of comparatively light fiber,
but at least a touch of distinction or evidence
of serious endeavor are discoverable in each.

In America we have always been accus-
tomed to hear the greatest European celeb-
rities, but in the last few years another sur-
prising tendency is to be noticed. European
actors and singers are no longer content with
appearing in their own language but, adopt-
ing the speech of the land, become Americans.
Schumann-Heink, Fritzi Schefif, and the
Dutchman, Henry de Vries, to instance but a
few, are such desirable artistic "immigrants."
Others have tried and failed, like Madame
Illing, the gifted German actress, and Madame
Barsescu, a Rumanian actress, of undoubted
genius. The former, it is announced, will
attempt to gain a footing here by way of
London, while the latter will appear with a
Rumanian troupe in the ultimate hope of act-
ing in English. Two successful newcomers
are Madame Alia Nazimova, of whose Hedda
Gabler we spoke at length in our January
number, and Madame Abarbanell, a German

comedy singer, whose success in "The Student
King" is one of the most remarkable of this
month's dramatic events.

With "The Student King" Mr. Savage de-
sired to rehabilitate a species of romantic op-
eretta more pretentious than the
THE STUDENT ordinary light opera, but less
KING weighty than the attractions of

Mr. Conried and Mr. Hammer-
stein. The dialogue, remarks The Times, was
never overloaded with brilliancy, but it was

A "DESIRABLE IMMIGRANT"

Lina Abarbanell, the German opera singer, who is
starring in "The Student King." She has become an
American and speaks English as well as Fritzi Scheflf.

never coarse or vulgar, and all the numerous
laughs it caused were never clouded by com-
punction. The music, it goes on to say, was
in keeping with the pictures, bright, lively,
harmonious, while the plot, if not original,
was at least consistent. We are introduced to
the Kingdom of Bohemia where, according to
Messrs. Ranken and Stange, it was the cus-
tom for the reigning monarch to abdicate for
twelve hours every year and permit a student,

1 84

CURRENT LITERATURE

elected by his fellows in Prague University,
to reign in his stead.

Alan Dale wittily remarks of this plot that
it is everything comic opera ever was.

The most interesting feature of the enter-
tainment was the first
appearance on any
English stage of Lina
Abarbanell, who last
season tripped through
the part of Haensel in
Humperdinck's lovely
opera at the Metro-
politan Opera House.
Mrs. Abarbanell, it
/nay be added, has
been in this country
only for a year and a
half. She knew no
English when she
came to play at Con-
ried's German Theater
and at his opera. It
was then that Mr.
Savage saw her and
engaged her on the
spot. In an interview
with a representative
of the German Journal
the singer tells of her
hard struggle to mas-
ter the tongue of
Shakespeare and
Clyde Fitch. Her labor
was not unrewarded.
"Mrs. Abarbanell,"
says The Tribune,
"speaks English now
even as Fritzi vScheff,
with only a slight and
piquant accent." The
Morning Telegraph
draws a further paral-
lel. "As a prima don-
na soubrette," it observes enthusiastically,
"she has but one superior and that the pre-
eminent Fritzi Scheff. So far as acting abil-
ity goes, Mme. Abarbanell is the superior."

AN INTERPRETER OF MULTIPLE PERSON-
ALITY
Mr. Henry de Vries, the Americanized^ Dutchman,
of whose acting it is said that equally satisfactory in-
terpretations of Hamlet or Othello would universally
be hailed as great masterpieces.

Henry de Vries, the gifted Dutchman, who,
following the current of the time, has ex-
patriated himself linguistically
THE DOUBLE and become an American in
LIFE speech, recently made his ap-

pearance in a remarkable psy-
chological play by Mrs. Rineheart Roberts,
wife of a Pittsburg physician. Mr.
Henry de Vries, it will be remembered,

scored a remarkable success in "A Case
of Arson," in which his peculiar talent
for representing multiple personalities was so
aptly employed. "The Double Life" gives
scope to an exhibition of the same qualities of
this extraordinary art-
ist. In this play, ac-
cording to the account
of The Herald, a
wealthy young man,
Frank Van Buren, on
his way to examine
some mining property
in West Virginia, is
held up and wounded
on the head by out-
laws. When he comes
to, his mind is a blank
as to his past. To con-
tinue :

"His former name
and identity are un-
known to him. Other-
wise he is normal. As
Joe Hartmann he be-
comes a miner, marries,
rises to the position of
pit boss.

"Nearly a quarter of
a century elapses, when
a sudden shock re-
verses his mental out-
look— brings him back
in memory to where he
was before, but causes
him to forget what has
happened since, so that
he does not even recog-
nize his wife and daugh-
ter, for whom, however,
his love, gradually re-
awakens."

More interesting
than even the play,
is the genius of the ac-
tor. The Evening Post
says that his art in the
dual role of the hero
is a remarkable exhibition of thoughtful and
highly skilful acting. "In a way it is nearly
perfect. An equally satisfactory interpreta-
tion of Hamlet or Othello would be hailed
universally as a great masterpiece."

The freshness of idea, crisp humor and in-
cessant charm of "The Road to Yesterday,"
by Beulah Dix and Evelyn
THE ROAD TO Sutherland, ought, in the opin-
YESTERDAY ion of The World, to maintain
the play for a long time in high
favor. The authors, avers this critic, com-
bine the spirit of poetic romance with gentle

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

185

satire which, whether the scenes pass in wak-
ing moments or in dreams, never miss the
mark. And they have also accomplished the
rare feat of leading their audiences through
the intricacies of the tangled plot without the
slightest confusion of characters."

The Herald is reminded of Kipling's story
of the London store clerk who in a prior state
of existence had been a Viking, and of Mr.
Winsor MacCay's "Dreams of a Rarebit
Fiend," while The Times poetically designates
the play as a "mixing of Theosophy and
Cheshire cheese." The amusing plot of "The
Road to Yesterday" is summarized as follows :

"Elspeth Tyrell, a young girl, after a combina-
tion of historical novels, too much London sight-
seeing, and a heavy luncheon at the Cheshire
Cheese, is translated back in her dreams 300 years.
She becomes a princess disguised as a barmaid,
and a youth who has been posing for an artist
friend in the costume of a swashbuckler, becomes
her 'gallant hero,' though not until after he has
woefully disappointed her through his unwilling-
ness to fight five men at one and the same time.

"Unlike most of the heroes of romance, how-
ever, he has a modicum of common sense, and be-
lieving that he who fights and runs away will live
to fight another day, is eventually able to come to
her aid at the moment when the deadly cheese-—
or, in the spirit of the play, the base villain — is
about to force her into a distinctly distasteful
marriage. Incidentally Elspeth, or her astral
body, since she herself is supposedly suffering the
nightmare in the artist's studio, meets all of her
old friends in new guises.

"One, a gentleman with an artistic tempera-
ment, who has previously imagined himself as
being a reincarnation of Oliver Cromwell, is the
clownish tapster of a Lincolnshire inn, where all
the grave things transpire. Another, a young
woman who has imagined herself a descendant of
the Romanies, is a terrifying black gypsy woman,
who succumbs to the fascinations of a Jacobite
wooer, who teaches her in no gentle way how
a strong man may master a brave and violent
woman. Eventually of course Elspeth wakes
from her dream, and with a proper pairing oft
of lovers, including herself and her ^erstwhile
romantic rescuer, the final curtain falls."

One of the most felicitous touches in the
fantasy is the fact that the heroine realizes
all the while that her odd experiences are
merely the fantasmagoria of a dream. Both
Chicago and New York critics find fault with
the authors for descending at times to prac-
tice the thing they gibe at. Moreover, remarks
The Sun, if "The Road to Yesterday" had
appeared in the height of the craze for the
kind of play it satirizes it would have stood
a chance of tmusual success. "As matters
stand, what it most needs is a recipe to go
back on the road to the past some four or five
years. But not even welsh rabbit and ale at mid-
night, it is to be feared, will accomplish that"

A play of strong local interest in New York
is Mr. Broadhurst's "Man of the Hour." Like

Charles Klein, this playwright

THE MAN OF has taken a typical American

THE HOUR subject and treated it more or

less conventionally, but neverthe-
less with great effectiveness. Mr. Brisbane
devoted a whole editorial to it in The Evening
Journal. The New York Dramatic Mirror
thinks that it should be one of the most popu-
lar plays of the season. "Not," it says, "be-
cause it is remarkable for its strength, its
novelty or its beauty, for, viewed simply as a
play, it has neither great strength, much nov-
elty nor overpowering beauty, but because it is
the unwriten, unpublished side of many news-
paper stories, applicable principally to this
metropolis, but not without parallel in any
large city in the country." To quote further:

"How truly Mr. Broadhurst has pictured certain
not long past episodes in New York city's history
those most interested will be able to judge. The
general public will be satisfied to think he has
not missed the mark very far.

"Constructively, the play is old-fashioned, con-
ventional and, in a manner, crude. Comic relief
is introduced at regular intervals; climaxes are
'worked up to' according to all the rules of play-
writing; there is the proper admixture of heart
interest and sentiment; 'big scenes' — and some of
them are really big^are anticipated by that sort
of preparatory silence that always precedes the
piece de resistance of a fireworks display; and
all the dangling ends of the story are carefully
wound up before the final curtain falls.

"The theme is as old as literature — virtue tri-
umphant— but the incidents are new, the story
vital, and the characters are tricked out in fresh-
fashioned garbs. The plot justifies itself, and it
is questionable whether any other than a con-
ventional treatment would be so effective."

The Theatre (New York), in giving the plot
of the play, remarks that at one- place at least
it becomes somewhat tedious. The story, we
are told, concerns the attempt of a money
magnate and a city boss to obtain a perpetual
charter for a city railway enterprise. The
writer continues:

"In order to succeed, they must have control
of the mayor. An election is approaching. In a
conference between the two scoundrels they de-
cide that they can elect a young man who is in
love with the daughter of the rich conspirator.
. . . The young man is elected mayor and is to
marry the girl. When he discovers that the charter
is a perpetual one he vetoes the bill. There is a
good deal of animation in the conduct of the action
from now on. The boss threatens him with the
exposure of his father who had been eminent in
the Civil War and whose memory is revered, but
who had really been a 'grafter' in city affairs.
His mother counsels him to stand firm and suffer
the truth to be told at every cost. By one turn
or ?mothpr the adherents of the Iwss are gained

i86

CURRENT LITERATURE

from him, and the mayor's veto stands. This
mere outline which merely suggests the main
action, at once suggests many stirring scenes; and
the action in detail connecting these striking scenes
fill the play with constant unexpected turns and
strong situations."

Additional interest is aroused by the re-
semblance between Bennet, the hero of the

play, and the present Mayor of New York, and
between Horrigan, the corrupt politician, and
the present leader of Tammany Hall. The fran-
chise is analogous to a certain gas franchise
that disturbed the public two years ago, and to
make the resemblance still more emphatic the
orchestra plays "Tammany" as the curtain
falls.

LUDWIG FULDA'S SECOND FLING AT THE KAISER

IROM Berlin comes the tidings that
I Ludwig Fulda's latest play, "The
False King," a masterful satire on
monarchical government, was an
unqualified triumph at its first performance.
The success of the play is due, in part at least,
to the adroit manner in which Fulda manages
to charm his audience, while he swings the lash
of humor over their heads. This play is his
second fling at the Kaiser, who seems to take
as a personal insult any slighting reference to
emperors and kings. Many years ago, when
he was a comparatively young man, Ludwig
Fulda competed with his "Talisman" for a
donation known as the "Schiller prize." The
prize was awarded to him by a competent com-
mittee, but the Kaiser unwisely vetoed their
decision and the young dramatist at once be-
came the most popular writer of the day. The
Kaiser's objection was due, no doubt, to the
spirit of levity in which the young radical
had approached the doctrine of the "divine
right" and omniscience of kings. Since then
we have had the pleasure of reading many
plays from the same pen, all graceful, clever
and epigrammatic, but none that, in the opin-
ion of Berlin critics, ranks in effectiveness
with the "Talisman." "The False King," how-
ever, is given a place right next to that play,
and by some placed above it.

Herr Fulda has always been more popular
with the public than with his critics, owing to
the fact that he would not join in the inde-
corous chorus of decadent art. For, as he
remarked in an interview, on his visit to Ameri-
ca not long ago, he believes in health and sun-
shine and scorns to play the madman even in
a literary madhouse. Having once found him-
self, he remained true to his ideal. "It is in-
credible," reflects one Berlin critic, "how dif-
ficult it is to strike one's own individual note
in art. She always raises new illusions before
our eyes. There always are great models who
lure us to the mountain-tops and often into
abysses. Fulda has succeeded at last in limit-

ing his literary activities to the field to which
his talent directs him. It is that which makes
his new play in verse and rhyme a harmonious
whole." Says another critic: "Herr Fulda
thus spake to himself, 'Go to ! What your fash-
ionable idol Bernard Shaw accomplishes for
you, that I, too, can do.' And forthwith he
depicted a heroic court with an unheroic cour-
tier." German critics chuckle with glee that in
doing so the dramatist has chosen England and
King Arthur's court for his scene of action.
The King Arthur in question, however, is not
the Arthur of romance, but an imbecile scion
of the warrior-king. Likewise the Lancelot of
the play, an idiot, is a descendant of the
character known to lore. The Arthur
of Fulda's comedy, the tenth of his name,
says the Berliner Tageblatt in its summary
of the play, neither reigns nor rules. To quote
further :

"In his stead the camarilla of courtiers op-
presses the people. It however comes to pass that
the King dies without an heir and they tremble
at the thought of the hour when the royal name
alone will no longer suffice to dazzle the people.
Fortunately at this hour help comes from an un-
expected quarter. The Princess Sigune, daughter
of the Seneschall, had carried on an amour with a
shepherd from the pasture to the palace. At
once the courtiers hit upon a plan which will
render it unnecessary for them to inform the
people of the decease of the King. They announce
that not only he still lives, but is to soon celebrate
his nuptials. Thereupon the shepherd, imper-
sonating the King, is married to Sigune. After
some time, — the program discreetly speaks of ten
months — unto them a prince is born. But before
this consummation the shepherd gives ample proof
of his mettle. When the Saxons are pressing
upon his people, the youth dons the golden armor
of Arthur the First, his alleged and legendary
forbear — and, hiding his shepherd's face behindthe
visor, he routs the enemy at the head of his army.
Thereby he establishes in truth his claim_ to the
crown. But, when his subjects learn that it is not
the blood of a king that circles in his veins, the
tide of popular favor turns against him._ They
prefer degenerate blue blood to the vigorous
shepherd's and in his place establish upon the
throne Lancelot — the idiot."

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

187

TWO NEW OPERAS— MASSENET'S "ARIANE" AND
MISS SMYTHE'S "STRANDRECHT"

BRILLIANT opening of the Paris
opera season was assured by the
j|;| production of a new work by the
two veteran artists, Jules Mas-
senet and Catulle Mendes. "Ariane" was the
opera upon which they had collaborated,
Mendes writing the libretto and giving it as
much importance as Massenet's name gave
to the music. All literary and artistic Paris
was interested in the eventful presentation
of "Ariane" (Ariadne), but while the occa-
sion was notable and the success of the work
apparently pronounced and unmistakable, the
critical opinions deliberately expressed in the
press are not all favorable. Some are dis-
tinctly adverse.

At Leipzig, at about the same time, an-
other new opera was produced, a work by
the English woman composer. Miss E. M.
Smythe, whose one-act music-drama, "Im
Wald," made a deep impression when given
three or four years ago. Miss Smythe's
opera aroused genuine enthusiasm among the
audience, and is pronounced by one critic "the
most powerful and unified production ever
accomplished by a female composer." It is to
be given at Prague and elsewhere on the Con-
tinent, but in England, her own country.
Miss Smythe does not expect an early hearing.

The Massenet-Mendes opera is in five
scenes, and tells the story of Ariadne, The-
seus and Phaedra in the poet's own way, with
some departures from the classical version.

The first scene shows us the gate of the
labyrinth, and we learn from the sisters,
Ariadne and Phaedra, of the thread Ariadne
had given to Theseus. Then the hero ap-
pears, with the blood of the slain Minotaur
on his sword. The three escape to the ship.
In the second scene we see them in a boat
in the open, tempest-lashed sea. Ariadne is
joyful, and Phaedra jealous and sad. In the
third "the plot thickens," Ariadne becomes
jealous, Phaedra is killed and the contrite
sister asks to be guided to Hades. The fourth
scene takes place in the infernal regions, and
the final one on the earth once more, Phaedra
having been restored to life. Theseus, after
protesting devotion to Ariadne, follows Phae-
dra to Athens, and the deserted Ariadne is
driven to suicide by drowning.

There is great opportunity for fine stage
effects, especially in the scene which takes

place in Hades, and the verse of Mendes is
praised for its purity, simplicity and beauty.
The interest, however, of the general public
centers in the music. Gabriel Faure, the com-
poser, analyzes the score in Le Figaro, prais-
ing it with some reservations. The musical
editpr of the Mcrciire de France, on the
other hand, condemns the work severely. He
writes : — "The music of 'Ariane' is of excep-
tional feebleness — the most monotonous and
colorless that has flowed from Massenet's in-
continent pen. It is banal and commonplace,
irritatingly poor, and the orchestra is either
clamorous or deaf."

Of Miss Smythe's opera a Leipzig corre-
spondent of the London Times gives an elab-
orate account. The action is laid among the
Gornish weavers in the eighteenth century,
and is based on the fantastic idea that Provi-
dence arranged wrecks for the special benefit
of these weavers. The plot is condensed as
follows :

" 'Strandrecht' begins by showing us the congre-
gation and minister of a Cornish village, on a
stormy Sunday evening, expecting the harvest
that the morrow will bring. Everything is in
their favor; the lighthouse keeper puts out his
light ; but yet no wreck comes to enrich the little
community. Some one is playing traitor, for
Laurent, the lighthouse man, brings the news that
he has found traces of a recent fire, which has
warned off the ships from the dangerous shore.
Who has lit it? The first act ends before an
answer has been found. Meanwhile Avis, the
daughter of the lighthouse keeper, discovers that
her sweetheart. Marc, no longer cares for her,
and she identifies her rival by hearing the refrain
of a song that Marc is fond of singing from the
lips of Thurza, the minister's wife, who has
braved popular opinion by declining to go to
chapel with the others, by mending her nets on
Sunday, and by protesting against the inhumanity
of the trade by which the village subsists. She
it is, in fact, who has induced Marc to light the
warning fires, and, in spite of the suspicions of
the villagers and an organized search for the cul-
prit, Thurza and Marc kindle yet another, singing
the while a passionate declaration of their love.
As the villagers are heard approaching in their
search for the fire, the lovers leave the stage, and
Pasko, the minister, enters and discovers, not
only the fire, but his wife's shawl dropped beside
it. He falls down unconscious, and is found by
the villagers, who suppose him to be the culprit,
and settle that his guilt shall be judged in a cer-
tain cave that is used for such formalities. Be-
fore this rustic tribunal he keeps silence and is
only saved from death by Marc, who owns to his
actions. Avis, to save the man she still loves,
tries to screen him by a false confession that he

i88

CURRENT LITERATURE

spent the night with her, but Thurza confesses
the whole truth, and she and Marc are left in
the cavern to be drowned by the flowing tide."

There are many musical opportunities in
this story, both of a lyrical and dramatic na-
,ture, and the correspondent says that Miss
Smythe has made excellent use of them.
Much of the music is powerful and original.
The melodies are of singularly beautiful qual-
ity, and the orchestration is skilful and in-
genius and impressive. The correspondent
concludes :

"Here is a very remarkable work. If were

small praise to describe it as the most powerful
and unified production ever accomplished by a
fernale composer; it is much more than this, for
it is not only completely free from the influence
of any other music — even the most prejudiced
critics are bound to admit this freedom — but the
power with which the great situations are han-
dled, the insight with which the characters are
individualized, and the skill of invention and
treatment which appears on every page make it
one of the very few modern operas which must
count among the great things in art. This being
so, there is naturally no prospect of its being heard
in England for many a year; but it is shortly to
be given again at Prague, and will no doubt be
heard elsewhere on the Continent before long."

THE TRAGEDY AND THE COMPENSATIONS OF
THE ACTOR'S CAREER

ICHELANGELO is said to have once
gratified a whim of his own or of
some exacting patron by carving a
statue of snow. It may have been
his masterpiece, but, under the warm rays of
the sun, it quickly melted into a shapeless
lump, leaving no record of its beauty. "And
this is what the actor does every night," Law-
rence Barrett used to say ; "he is forever carv-
ing a statue of snow."

The anecdote and the comment serve as a
text for an article on the ephemeral reputa-
tion of the actor, by Prof. Brander Matthews,
He sympathizes with the spirit of Joseph Jef-
ferson's remark, "The painter, the sculptor,
the author, all live in their works after death;
but there is nothing so useless as a dead
actor!" and develops the same thought fur-
ther (in Munsey's Magazine) :

"David Garrick was probably the greatest actor
the world has ever seen; but what is he to-day
but a faint memory — a name in the biographical
dictionaries, and no more? Joseph Jefferson was
the most accomplished comedian of the English-
speaking stage at the end of the nineteenth cen-
tury; but his fame will fade like Garrick's, and
in a score of years he also will be but a name.
This swift removal to the limbo of the vanished
is the fate of all actors, however popular in their
own day, and however indisputable their genius.

"And this fate the actor shares with all other
performers, vocalists, and instrumentalists. It is
a fate from which the practitioners of the other
arts are preserved by the fact that their works
may live after them, whereas the performers can
leave nothing behind them but the splendid rec-
ollection that may linger in the memories of
those who beheld the performance. Goldsmith
was the friend of Garrick; and there are thou-
sands to-day who have enjoyed the quaint sim-
plicity of the 'Vicar of Wakefield,' and to whom,
therefore, Goldsmith is something more than a
name only. Macready was the friend of Bulwer-
Lytton, who wrote for him 'The Lady of Lyons'

and 'Richelieu'; but the actor left the stage half
a century ago and has long been forgotten by
the playgoers, who have continued to attend the
countless performances of the two plays Macready
originally produced."

And yet, continues Professor Matthews, the
actor's lot is not all loss. It has at least two
compensations, one obvious enough, and the
other not so evident, but not less suggestive.
The obvious compensation for the transitori-
ness of the actor's fame lies in the abundant
rewards, both in cash and in fame, that he re-
ceives. "The actor is better paid," says Pro-
fessor Matthews, "than any other artist. In
proportion to his ability, he is greatly over-
paid. . . . Where there are to-day only one
or two novelists and portrait painters who have
attained to the summit of prosperity, there are
a dozen or a score of actors and of actresses
who are reaping the richest of harvests. And
even the rank and file of the histrionic pro-
fession are better paid than are the average
practitioners of the other arts." Moreover:

"The actor, overpaid in actual money, so far
as his real ability is concerned, is also unduly
rewarded with praise. In the general ignorance
about the art of acting, he is often rated far more
highly than he deserves. He is greeted with pub-
lic acclaim; and he can rejoice in the wide re-
verberations of a notoriety which is the im-
mediate equivalent of fame. He comes almost in
personal contact with his admirers ; and they are
loud in expressing to him the pleasure he has
just given them. Far more directly and far more
keenly than any poet or any sculptor can the
actor breathe the incense offered up to him. And
if he be a Kemble, he may have the good fortune
to listen while a Campbell declares acting to be
the supreme art :

For ill can poetry express
Full many a tone of thought sublime,

And painting, mute and motionless.
Steals but a glance of time.

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

189

But by the mighty actor brought,

Illusion's perfect triumphs come —
Verse ceases to be airy thought,
And sculpture to be dumb.

"Even if the actor is not a Kemble and does not
receive the homage of a Campbell, even if he is
but one of the many stars that twinkle in the
theatrical firmament, he has a celebrity denied to
other artists. He may expect to be recognized as
he passes in the street. He may count on the
public familiarity with his name, such as no
other artist could hope for. Few of those who
stand in admiration before a stately statue in the
square ever ask the name of the sculptor who
wrought it.

"Even in the theater itself few of those who sit
entranced at the performance of a play know or
care to know its authorship. Mr. Bronson How-
ard was once asked how many of the audience
that filled the theater at the hundredth perform-
ance of one of his plays would be aware that he
was the author of the piece they were enjoying;
and he answered that he doubted if one in ten of
the spectators happened to be acquainted with
his name. But at least nine in ten of the spec-
tators knew the names of the stars; and when
that piece chances to be performed nowadays by
one of the stock companies, it is advertised as
'Robson and Crane's great play, "The Henriet-

The second compensation of the actor's

career lies in the fact that a reputation
achieved during his lifetime cannot be de-
stroyed after his death. The judgment of his
contemporaries is final. On this point Pro-
fessor Matthews writes:

"Painters exalted in one century as indisputable
masters have been cast down in another cen-
tury, and denounced as mere pretenders. Pope
was acclaimed in his own day as the greatest of
English poets, only to be dismissed in our day
as an adroit versifier, not fairly to be termed a
poet at all. From these vicissitudes of criticism
the actor is preserved; his fame cannot be im-
peached. No critic can move for a retrial of
Garrick; the witnesses are all dead; the case is
closed; the decision stands forever. 'Succeed-
ing generations may be told of his genius ;— ^none
can test it' — and because none can test it, suc-
ceeding generations must accept what they have
been told. Garrick painted his picture with an
empty brush, it is true, and he had to carve his
statue in the snow; and therefore neither the
picture nor the statue can ever be seen by un-
friendly eyes to-day. The skill of the artist can-
not be proved ; we have to take onr trust and to
hold it as a matter of faith.

"Beyond all question it is a signal advantage
to the actor that he can leave behind him nothing
by which his contemporary fame may be con-
tested by us who come after,"

SCENES FROM "THE HYPOCRITES"— THE STRONGEST

PLAY OF THE YEAR

F this is a melodrama, let us have
more melodrama." In these few
words might be summarized the
impression made on New York
critics by Henry Arthur Jones's latest
work, "The Hypocrites," selections from
which we reprint this month from a privately
published copy, by the courtesy of Mr. Charles
Frohman. Jones stands to-day undoubtedly
in the front rank of dramatic writers. In
England he has only one rival, Arthur Wing
Pinero, Shaw being in a class by himself.
While Pinero is, perhaps, a more calculating
craftsman, Jones touches more directly the
springs of human emotion. Both have in com-
mon a mastery of stage effects and apparently
a sound hatred for their public — the English
middle classes. They never cease to attack
sham and hypocrisy, tho, it might be urged, not
infrequently making concessions to the very
qualities against which their shafts are directed.
Jones's play, "The Hypocrites," significantly
bears this legend from "The Pilgrim's Scrip":
"Expediency is man's wisdom; doing right
is God's." The keynote of the play is struck
in the passage in which Viveash, the rascally
lawyer, remarks in the course of the first act

to Parson Linnell, the only man in the com-
munity who is not a hypocrite: "My dear
Linnell, you aren't a baby; you're an edu-
cated man. Open your eyes! Look at the
world around you, the world we've got to live
in, the world we've got to make our bread
and cheese in ! Look at society I What is it ?
An organized hypocrisy everywhere. We all
live by taking each other's dirty linen, and
pretending to wash it; by cashing each other's
dirty little lies and shams, and passing them
on. Civilization means rottenness, when you
get to the core of it. It's rotten everywhere.
And I fancy it's rather more rotten in this
dirty little hole than anywhere else."

The locality referred to certainly boasts of
a goodly collection of respectable hypocrites.
The first act introduces us to the house of
Mr. Wilmore, lord of the Manor of Weybury.
An animated discussion is going on between
him and other dignitaries : the Reverend Ever-
ard Daubeny, Vicar of Weybury, more fond
of dining than of things divine; Dr. and Mrs.
Blaney, and Mrs. Wilmore. A tenant of the
Wilmores, William Sheldrake, it seems, has
been indiscreet with a girl and is to be
coerced into marrying her for the sake of

tgo

CURRENT LITERATURE

morality, altho Curate Linnell staunchly op-
poses this union on the ground that the girl
is imfit to be the young man's wife. These
worthies, however, agree to make it incum-
bent upon Linnell to effect the marriage in
question. It happens that at the same time
Lennard, Wilmore's son, is engaged to Helen
Plugenet, daughter of Sir John Plugenet,
Baronet, of Plugenet Court. The Wilmores
are anxious for the marriage to take place, as
their finances are in a shattered condition and
Sir John happens to own the most important
mortgages on their property. The lawyer
Viveash desires no less ardently to bring the
union about, as his money is tied up with
that of the Wilmores. Helen Plugenet is a
pure and somewhat romantic girl who expects
from her future husband the same purity of
heart that she brings to him. Of late her
suspicions have been somewhat aroused by
Mrs. Wilmore's evasive replies to her queries
with regard to Lennard's past. At that criti-
cal juncture turns up at the Wilmore man-
sion a young drawing mistress, Rachel Neve.
It appears that the girl had sustained intimate
relations with Lennard, and that, half a year
previously, he had bidden good-by to her for-
ever, in the belief that she would join her
father in Canada. But Rachel, for very ob-
vious reasons, feared to meet her father, and
when at last her prospective maternity is no
longer a matter of surmise, she comes to ask
Mrs. Wilmore for advice and help. Len-
nard, who is a good fellow at heart, is almost
overcome by shame and commiseration, but
Mrs. Wilmore, who dreads a scandal, begs
him to leave the matter in her hand. Her in-
tention is to settle a sum of money upon the
girl, but, above all, to get her away. Rachel
promises everything, but on her way out of
town happens to meet with an accident. She
is brought, strangely enough, to Edgar Lin-
nell's house. Mrs. Blaney, the doctor's wife,
who is always on the lookout for immorality,
pries into the girl's baggage and papers. Dis-
turbed in reading one letter, she incautiously
drops it on the floor. A little later Linnell
happens to pick it up and peruses it under the
impression that it is meant for him. From
the letter he gathers enough evidence in con-
junction with certain other incidents to con-
nect the girl with Lennard. While he is
still revolving the matter, Lennard makes his
appearance and the following conversation
takes place:

Linnell: Will you sit down? (Lennard sits
apprehensively.) Mrs. Wilmore takes a great in-
terest in Miss Neve.

Lennard'. Neve — is that her name?

Linnell : Didn't you know ?

Lennard: I think my mother mentioned it.

Linnell: Does Mrs. Wilmore know Miss
Neve's history?

Lennard: I suppose she has told my mother
s iiiethine about herself.

Linnell :
know ?

Lennard:
vou mean ?

Linnell :
the history

Lennard

How much does Mrs. Wilmore
You're very mysterious. What do

I mean, does Mrs. Wilmore know
of Miss Neve's relations with you?
{Starts up, betrays himself, then
quickly recovers, stands face to face with Linnell
for a moment.) Relations with me! What bee
have you got in your bonnet now? I'll send my
mother down to you. You'd better ask her.
{Going off, opens door.)

Linnell: I'm trying to save those dear to you
from terrible sorrow and shame. To-morrow it
mav be too late.

{Lennard closes door and comes down to
him.)

Linnell {very tenderly) : Come, my deaf lad!
You see I know ! So spare yourself all further
equivocation, and let me help you if I can.

Lennard: It's a pretty bad business, isn't it?

Linnell: Trust me. Did you promise to marry
her?

Lennard: I suppose I did. When a man's in
love he promises everything.

Linnell: And you became engaged to Miss
Plugenet, knowing that this other

Lennard: No, I'm not quite so bad as that. I
hadn't seen Helen since we were children. I was
in Scotland last spring in charge of the railway,
and when Mr. Neve left his daughter to go to
Canada, she and I were thrown together a good
deal. Then the railway was finished, and I came
home and met Helen. Before I became engaged
I saw Miss Neve again f r a few days. We said,
"Good-by," and parted, thinking it was all at an
end. It was only to-day that I knew the cursed
truth.

Linnell: What do you intend to do?

Lennard: My mother has promised to take
care of her.

Linnell: And Miss Plugenet?

Lennard: There's no need she should know, is
there ?

Linnell: You'd marry Miss Plugenet, knowing
this other one has your promise, knowing what
she is eroine to suffer for you !

Lennard : It is rough on her, poor girl ! And
she's really good. It was her very innocence —
and she did love me ! When I remember how
her face used to light up with the loveliest smile
when she caught sight of me — by Jove, Linnell,
a man may get to be a big scoundrel without
meaning it, and without knowing it.

Linnell: But when he does know it, then he
resolutely sets to work to undo the wrong he
has done — as vou mean to do?

Lennard: Well, of course, we shall provide for
her.

Linnell: Yes — but Miss Plugenet?

{A knock at the front door.)

Lennard: I expect that's my mother. {Patty
[a servant girl] goes to front door and admits
Mrs. Wilmore.) You'll help us to keep this quiet,
eh? You won't go against us and let it all come
out?

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

191

Mrs. Wilmore {opens the door, and speaks to
Patty): Inhere? Oh, yes. {She enters.) Ah,
Len, why didn't you go back with Helen? Run
back home, I want to have a little chat with Mr.
Linnell about this young drawing-mistress.
{Looking at Linnell.)

Linnell {stern and dignified) : If you please.

{Mrs. Wilmore, arrested by his manner, looks
inquiringly at him and Lennard.)

Lennard: Mother, he knows.

Mrs. Wilmore: Knows what? What has this
girl been telling you?

Linnell: Nothing. By accident I saw a letter
she wrote to your son.

Mrs. Wilmore: Why should she write to Len-
nard?

Linnell: Isn't it very natural?

{Lennard is about to speak, but Mrs. Wilmore
secretly hushes him with a warning gesture.)

Mrs. Wilmore: Was this letter addressed to
Lennard?

Linnell : No.

Mrs. Wilmore : Then to whom ?

Linnell: To no one.

Mrs. Wilmore : And you jump to the conclu-
sion where is this girl? {Going to door. Lin-
nell intercepts her.)

Linnell : One moment. She's very feverish and
excited. Let me prepare her first.

Mrs. Wilmore: You won't prompt her to re-
peat this story?

Linnell : Story ? You know it, then ?

Mrs. Wilmore: It's easy to guess. I must see
her. and eet at the truth.

Linnell: The truth is as you know it.

{Exit to passage. Mrs. Wilmore watches him
off, then turns quickly to Lennard. Her action
throughout is rapid, keen, resolute, energetic, re-
sourceful, remorseless, unflinching.)

Mrs. Wilmore : Quick, Len ! What has taken
place ?

Lennard: He accused me, and of course I
denied it.

Mrs. Wilmore : You denied it ?

Lennard: At first. But, when I saw the game
was up, I gave in.

Mrs. Wilmore: Gave in?

Lennard: I said I was sorry.

Mrs. Wilmore: What else? Tell me all.

Lennard: I'm afraid I let out I'd promised to
marry the girl.

Mrs. Wilmore {with a gesture of despair) :
You've committed social suicide ! You've ruined
yourself !

Lennard: Can't we get him to hold his tongue?

Mrs. Wilmore: I'm afraid not. I'll try. I'll
trv everything! {With a sudden thought.) You
say you did deny it at first?

Lennard: Yes. I rounded on him, and asked
him what bee he had got in his bonnet !

Mrs. Wilmore : Yes ! Yes ! And then you said
you were sorry, and pitied her, and he totally
misunderstood you. It's only his word against
yours. If we can only get the girl out of the
way ! What evidence is there to connect her
with vou in Scotland?

Lennard : Nothing that anybody can lay hold of.

Mrs. Wilmore : Think ! There were other
young fellows there — your chums on the railway?

Lennard: Bruce Kerrick.

Mrs. Wilmore {looking at him) : It might have
been him.

Lennard: It might, but it wasn't.

Mrs. Wilmore: Where is he now?

Lennard: In South Africa.

Mrs. Wilmore: South Africa? Good! Your
father will be here directly. You'd better not
wait. Leave this to me. Oh, Len, if I can save
you yet!

Lennard: You are a brick, mother! And I've
brought you nothing but trouble.

Mrs. Wilmore: Never mind that now. {Open-
ing the door for him.) Go! {Lennard goes
noiselessly into passage.)

Mrs. Wilmore {watches him off): Hush!

{He closes the front door noiselessly behind
him, and she comes into the room, thoughtful,
scheming, deeply considering. After a moment
Linnell re-enters from study, and comes into room.
Mrs. Wilmore composes her features.)

Linnell {entering) : Your son has gone?

Mrs. Wilmore : There was no reason for him
to stay, was there?

Linnell: We must come to some understand-
ing about Miss Neve.

Mrs. Wilmore: Yes. What is to be done with
her? You can't expect Mrs. Linnell to nurse a
stranger through a long illness.

Linnell: The sprain "will only 1 st a few days.
But there's a fever

Mrs. Wilmore : Yes, poor creature ! I know
of some excellent rooms in Gilminster. I'll take
entire charge of her myself, and see that she's
thorouehlv nursed.

Linnell: Pardon me, when I just now told her
you were here, she seemed very much distressed.

Mrs. Wilmore: Why should she be distressed?

Linnell {sternly) : Mrs. Wilmore, if we are
to find some way out of this wretched business,
I must beg you to be quite candid with me.

Mrs. Wilmore {rather hotly) : I don't under-
stand you I Why shouldn't I be allowed to take
care of Miss Neve?

Linnell: You forget, there is another question
behind.

Mrs. Wilmore: What question?

Linnell: Miss Plugenet. {A loud knock at the
front door.)

Mrs. Wilmore : I believe that's Mr. Wilmore.
He doesn't know about this. {Another loud, im-
patient knock.) Perhaps it would be better not
to tell him for the present, at least not until you
and I have decided what to do.

After the second knock Wilmore has entered
at front door into passage. Patty, who has come
out of the study to open the door for him, meets
him in passage.

Wilmore {voice in passage) : Mr. Linnell at
home? Please show me in to him.

{Patty opens the door and shows him in. He
blusters in, and closes the door after him.)

Wilmore : Excuse this unceremonious entrance,
Linnell, but your letter about Sheldrake has thor-
oughly upset me. Coming just before dinner, too
— I could scarcely touch a morsel. Haunch of
venison, too ! You saw me refuse everything.
Charlotte ?

Mrs. Wilmore: Yes, but something else has
arisen

Wilmore: I don't care what has arisen. We'll
attend to this first. Now. sir, I've been talking
with your Vicar, and we're thoroughly agreed

{Mrs. Wilmore is making covert signs.)

Please don't interrupt me, Charlotte. It comes

CURRENT LITERATURE

to this — you will either uphold my ideas as re-
gards morality, or you will leave Weybury forth-
with. Which do you mean to do?

Linnell: What are your ideas as regards mo-
rality ?

Wilmore {upset) : Upon my word ! My ideas
of morality, sir {tapping the table with his fore-
fingers), are the good, plain, old-fashioned ideas
which all right-minded persons hold ! And al-
ways have held ! And always will hold ! Do
you, or do you not, intend to carry out my in-
structions respecting William Sheldrake?

Linnell: Meantime, what are your instructions
resoectincr vour own son?

Wilmore : My son ?

Linnell: Look at home, Mr. Wilmore 1 Deal
with vour own household first.

Wilmore : I don't know what you mean. Ex-
plain vourself. sir !

Linnell: You will have no tampering with the
plain dictates of morality? You have only one
rule in these cases? Do you wish it to be carried
out in the case of your own son, and the girl in
the next room?

At once, of course, Wilmore's whole de-
meanor changes and he virtually offers Lin-
nell the vicarage as the price of his silence.
At the same time both he and Mrs. Wilmore
deny that the incriminating letter was ad-
dressed to Lennard. Rachel upholds their
denial. Wilmore asks, "Will you withdraw
this monstrous charge against my son and
own your mistake?" "No," the Curate re-
plies, "not for a bishopric."

Here follows the famous third act in which
all the forces of hypocrisy are united to crush
the courageous curate. Rachel has consented
to sign a statement that the father of her
prospective child and Lennard are not iden-
tical. Sir John has arrived from India in
order to ' give his daughter in marriage to
young Wilmore. Informed of Linnell's accu-
sations, he insists on a personal interview
with all persons concerned. The scene is the
Wilmore Manor, as in the first act:

Sir John (looking round) : M-. Linnell is not
here?

Wilmore: Yes, I had him shown into another
room until such time as we require him. (Rings
bell.)

Sir John: We must have Lennard, too.

Wilmore: Lennard is only too anxious to face
his traducer.

(Goodyer [a man-servant] appears at door at
back.)

Wilmore: Ask Mr. Lennard and Mr. Linnell
to come here. (Exit Goodyer.)

Sir John: And Miss Neve herself?

Viveash: In the next room.

Mrs. Wilmore : She's ready to come in at any
moment, but I'm sure you'd wish to spare her as
far as possible.

Sir John: Certainly.

Viveash: Meantime, there is Miss Neve's own
statement in her own words. Just cast your eye
over that. (Giving him the letter Mrs. Wilmore
has brought in.)

Enter Lennard at back. Throughout the scene
he assumes a careless, confident manner, but at
moments he betrays intense anxiety and ex-
changes furtive looks with his mother.

Lennard: How are you? (To Daubeny.)

Daubeny : Good morning, my dear young
friend. (Shaking hands.)

Lennard: How d'ye do, Mrs. Blaney?

Mrs. Blaney : How d'ye do ?

Lennard: Good morning, Blaney. (Shaking
hands.)

Sir John (having read the letter) : But this is
positively conclusive.

Viveash : I thought you'd say so.

Sir John: What can Mr. Linnell say to this?

Enter Goodyer at back, announcing "Mr. Lin-
nell." Enter Linnell. Exit Goodyer. Linnell
bows as he comes in. Sir John, poisoned against
him by the Wilmores and Viveash, regards him
with evident distrust and coldness.

Mrs. Wilmore (introducing) : Mr. Linnell —
Sir John Plugenet.

Linnell: Good morning. Sir John.

Sir John (very coldly) : Good morning, sir.

Viveash: We may as well come to business at
once. Will you be seated?

(Daubeny, Mrs. Wilmore, Mrs. Blaney, Dr.
Blaney sit. Viveash seats himself, and makes
notes all the while.

Viveash : Mr. Linnell, I must ask you formally
to withdraw certain damaging statements you
have made regarding Mr. Lennard Wilmore and
Miss Neve.

Wilmore: And apologize! (A pause.)

Sir John (sternly to Linnell) : What have you
to say, sir?

Linnell (glancing round him) : Nothing.

Sir John : What 1 You make this dreadful ac-
cusation, and then you run away from it?

Linnell: I'm not running away. I'm here.

Sir John: But you've repeated this slander?

Linnell: Not to a single person since that
nieht.

Wilmore: But it's all over the town!

Linnell: Not through any word of mine. I've
no wish to repeat this story even now — unless
you force me.

Sir John : Perhaps, sir, but before you leave
this room you must either repeat it, or withdraw
it absolutely.

Linnell: If you please. Through an accident
I became aware of Mr. Lennard Wilmore's fault.
I urged him to own the truth to you. I urge him
still, I entreat him, with all

Viveash (dry, hard) : Mr. Linnell, please re-
serve your sentimental appeals for the pulpit.
Sir John wants to get at the facts.

Linnell (sharp, dry, hard) : I'll give them to him.

Sir John (cold, distrustful) : I shall be obliged.

Linnell: While Miss Neve was in my house, a
letter she had written tumbled on the floor.
Thinking it was addressed to myself, I began ■^o
read it. It spoke of the writer's shame and dis-
tress

Viveash : But what reason had you for con-
necting the writer's shame and distress with Mr.
Lennard Wilmore?

Linnell: It said "I shall call on your mother
this afternoon, and "

Viveash: But, you may have observed, other
people besides Mr. Lennard Wilmore have
mothers.

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

193

Linnell: Yes, it is customary. {Advancing a
little towards Mrs. Wilmore.) Mothers who
bring their sons up to love the truth and hate
lies

Sir John: What? Mr. Linnell I You accuse
a lady in Mrs. Wilmore's position ! — Viveash, I
shall lose my patience.

Viveash : Keep calm, Sir John ! We shall soon
explode this bag of moonshine. {To Linnell.)
You're sure this letter didn't read, "I'll call on
your erandmother?"

Linnell: No — the girl didn't mock at her agony.
Do you?

Viveash: What became of this letter?

Linnell: Miss Neve burnt it.

Viveash: That's a pity. Mrs. Wilmore, will
you please ask Miss Neve whether the letter Mr.
Linnell picked up was written to your son, and
whether it contained any reference whatever to
you, or to him? {Mrs. Wilmore goes towards
door.)

Linnell: Why ask her? You know she'll say
"No."

Mrs. Wilmore : Surely Miss Neve must know
to whom she wrote that letter. {Exit Mrs. Wil-
more, left.)

Viveash : Have you any other evidence against
Mr. Lennard Wilmore?

Linnell: Yes, his own word.

Lennard: My word?

Linnell: You owned to me you had betrayed
this girl under a promise of marriage; and you
beeeed me to hide it !

Lennard: What? I asked you what bee you'd
«ot in vour bonnet !

Wilmore: A bee in his bonnet! Now that to
me cxactlv describes the situation.

Daubeny : A very happy phrase ! A bee in his
bonnet! {Tapping his stomach.)

Viveash: I suppose what really happened, Len-
nard, was this — Mr. Linnell told you this poor
girl's story; you pitied her, and then he mud-
dled up

Linnell {sternly) : Please don't put his lie into
his mouth! He has it pat enough!

Wilmore: Lie! We're using very pretty lan-
guage now!

Mrs. Blaney: And in the presence of ladies!

Dr. Blaney: Violent language is generally as-
sociated with a bad case.

Linnell : Yes, and sometimes with a good case,
too!

Mrs. Wilmore re-enters.

Sir John: Lennard, my boy, you are to take
my name, and be my son. Tell me — Is there any
truth in what Mr. Linnell says?

Lennard {catches sight of his mother's anxious
face, and, after the faintest faltering, says firm-
ly) : No, not the least.

Sir John: You did not confess you had be-
trayed this nirl?

Lennard {quite firmly) : No, Sir John.

{Mrs. Wilmore shows immense relief.)

Sir John {relieved. Shakes his hand cor-
diallv) : I believe you. And now, tell this man

to his face that he is mistaken. He'll know

what that means.

{Mrs. Wilmore shows anxiety.)

Lennard {steps firmly to Linnell and says
fiercely) : Mr. Linnell, you are mistaken I

{Mrs. Wilmore shows great relief. Linnell
flames with resentment, is about to reply, but

stops and stares round, growing bewildered, and
beginning to realize the hopelessness of his posi-
tion; at length drops into chair, and buries his
face in hands on table.)

Mrs. Wilmore {comes forward) : Miss Neve
says most positively that the letter Mr. Linnell
picked up was not written to Lennard, and had
no reference to him or to me.

Sir John {to Linnell) : You hear that Miss
Neve denies

Linnell : Oh yes, she denies. They all deny !
And Mr. and Mrs. Wilmore! Let them deny,
too ! If you please, bo^h of you, deny, deny, deny !

Wilmore : So we're to be dragged into it ! So
we knew

Linnell {to Wilmore): Aye, you knew! For
you oflfered me the living to hold my tongue ! ( To
Mrs. Wilmore.) And you — you begged me with
tears to save your boy. Well, I've done my best
to save him! You must go your way and ruin
him! Go on and ruin him!

Sir John {struck by the sincerity of Linnell's
utterance) : Wilmore — Mrs. Wilmore, surely you
didn't bee Mr. Linnell to

Mrs. Wilmore: My dear Sir John, when we
got there, we found Mr. Linnell in an excited
state — with this bee in his bonnet — his own wife
implored him to withdraw his silly statement.
Mrs. Blaney, you remember?

Mrs. Blaney — Oh, yes. Poor Mrs. Linnell said
she was sure he didn't mean it, and told him to
beg Mr. Wilmore's pardon.

{Linnell is overwhelmed. Sir John looks at
Viveash, who shrugs his shoulders contemptu-
ously.)

Viveash: Have you any further evidence to
offer us?

{Linnell, grozving more and more bewildered,
shakes his head.)

Viveash: Sir John, will you please show him
Miss Neve's letter to Mrs. Wilmore.

Sir John: As, yes! {Bringing out the letter
which Viveash has given him.) Please read that.

Linnell: To what end?

Sir John: Please read it. {Linnell tmkes the
letter, and looks at it mechanically, not trying to
understand it.) You see, the girl herself de-
clares Mr. Lennard Wilmore is nothing to her.

Linnell: She knows! She knows!

Viveash: I'm glad you admit she knows.

Sir John: Well, what have you to say?

Linnell: Nothing. {Giving back the letter.)

Sir John: Nothing, sir? Nothing?

Linnell {suddenly) : Yes ! Please bring Miss
Neve here

Mrs. Wilmore {alarmed) : Sir John, you shall
see Miss Neve and question her yourself, but Dr.
Blaney will say if she is in a fit state

Dr. Blaney: I must certainly forbid any vio-
lent or distressing scenes. It would be highly
dangerous to my patient.

Linnell : Then why is she here, if not to get at
the truth? Sir John, for the sake of your daugh-
ter's happiness, I demand to ask Miss Neve one
question in the presence of your future son-in-
law.

Viveash: Surely Miss Neve's statement is suf-
ficiently explicit.

Linnell: I demand to put them face to face.

Sir John: Mrs. Wilmore, I think we might
ask Miss Neve to please step here for a moment

Mrs. Wilmore: If you wish.

194

CURRENT LITERATURE

(She just glances at Viveash, who just signs
assent.)

Sir John : I do.

Mrs. Wilmore : I'll fetch her.
{Mrs. Wilmore goes off left, leaving the door
open.)

Viveash (to Sir John) : Sir John, you'll take
care Miss Neve is not frightened or brow-beaten?

Sir John: We will treat her with every con-
sideration.

Mrs. Wilmore (appears at door) : If you
please

Rachel enters very slowly, limping a little, with
calm, set, determined face, and downcast eyes.
She just raises them to meet Lennard's glance
for an instant.

Mrs. Wilmore: This is Sir John Plugenet —
Miss Neve.

(Sir John and Rachel bow slightly.)

Linnell: Good morning, Miss Neve. (He
holds out his hand.)

Rachel: Good morning.

(She just looks at him, does not give her hand
at first, but as he holds his out, at length she
gives hers. He takes it, holds it, and leads her
towards Lennard.)

Linnell (to Lennard) : Will you please look at
this lady?

Viveash : What now ?

Linnell (to Rachel) : Will you please look at
Mr. Wilmore? I charge you both, as you will
answer at that dreadful day when the secrets of
all hearts shall be disclosed

(Lennard drazvs back a little. Rachel also
shows a very slight sign of faltering, which she
instantlv controls.)

Viveash (very firmly) : Sir John, I must pro-
test against this paltry theatrical appeal ! Miss
Neve has scarcely recovered from her illness

Linnell : If you please, Mr. Viveash ! Let me
put them to their oath.

Viveash : Doctor Blaney I Sir John !

Sir John : Mr. Linnell, will you please stand
aside? I'll question Miss Neve myself. (To
Rachel, very kindly.) I'm deeply grieved to
trouble you. You know my daughter is to be
married to this gentleman?

Rachel : Yes.

Sir John : Please forgive my asking. Has he
ever been more to you than an acquaintance?

Rachel: No.

Sir John : Has he ever spoken to you any word
of love?

Rachel: No.

Sir John : Have you the least claim upon him
as a lover?

Rachel: No.

Sir John : That is your solemn word — your
solemn oath, in the presence of Heaven? You
have no claim whatever upon Mr. Lennard Wil-
more ?

Rachel (quite firmly, looking at Lennard, and
then lookins at Sir John) : No, none whatever !

Sir John : Thank you for having spoken out
so plainly. That sets the question at rest forever.

(Rachel has anszvered quite firmly and stead-
fastly throughout, but at the end she drops back
on the sofa a little exhausted.)

Sir John: It has been too much for you?

Rachel: No — no — please don't trouble.

Sir John (turns to Linnell) : Mr. Linnell, I
daren't trust myself to speak to you ! You, a

clergyman, whose first care it should be to hush
all slander and evil speaking

Wilmore : Leave this house, sir I

(Linnell, bewildered, dazed, looks round, goes
up to door at back.)

Mrs. Wilmore (as he passes her) : I told you
how this would end.

Linnell: It's not ended 1 (Suddenly turns at
door.) Sir John, tell your daughter to look!
There's a rat under the floor of her new home !
(Sweeping his hand round to Wilmore, Mrs.
Wilmore, and Lennard.) You know it, all of
you ! You liars ! You hypocrites ! You time-
servers ! Damned time-servers ! You know it !
You know the rat's festering under the floor!
(Coming down to Rachel.) You know it, too

(Rachel starts up frightened, and staggers.
Viveash and Sir John pull Linnell away. Rachel
looks round, meets Lennard's look, utters a cry,
rushes past him, but staggers, falls as she ts
passing by him. He instinctively catches her in
his arms.)

Rachel (struggling to get free) : No ! No ! Not
you I Don't — don't touch me 1 They'll think —
Oh, let me go !

Lennard : Rachel ! Oh, what a hound ! What
a cur I've been ! Rachel ! Rachel, forgive me !
(She revives, struggles free from him, and goes
off left.) Sir John, I'm a scoundrel! I daren't
face Miss Plugenet, but ask her

Sir John (turns away from him with an angry
gesture) : Mrs. Wilmore, you knew this ! And
you lied to me and fooled me!

Mrs. Wilmore: What have you done, Len?

Lennard: Linnell, I beg your pardon. I've
behaved like a

Linnell : That's past ! Look up ! Look up, my
friend ! You've cleared yourself ! You've owned
your fault 1 You're a free man from this hour !
(Shaking hands warmly.)

After this occurrence the Wilmores are be-
ing ostracised socially. Sir John is furious and
threatens to foreclose his mortgage on the
Manor. Financial ruin stares them in the
face. To make matters still worse in Mrs.
Wilmore's eyes, Lennard is determined to
marry Rachel. All her plotting for his future
seems to have been futile. She is losing not
only her social position, but her boy as well.
Helen Plugenet finds her in this state when
she comes to bid her good-by. She is going
to work with Linnell and his wife in Lon-
don, where, through her father's influence,
she procured an appointment for him. Mrs.
Wilmore pours out her heart to the girl.
"No. I'm dead. No, worse than that. I am
living with nothing to live for."

They are embracing when the door at back
opens, and Rachel enters, shown in and fol-
lowed by Lennard. Rachel comes down a few
steps. Mrs. Wilmore and Helen then disen-
gage themselves, and Rachel and Helen recog-
nize each other. Helen utters a little cry, and
goes to the door.

Lennard (showing great shame) : I beg par-
don. I didn't know (He is going off.)

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

195

Helen: No, please stay. I'm going. (He
stands deeply ashamed. Helen goes towards
door, then stops, looks at Rachel a moment, goes
to her.) I hope you will be very happy! (Kisses
Rachel. Exit at back.)

Lennard : Mother, we're leaving England in a
few days. Haven't you a word to say to her?

Mrs. Wilmore (to Rachel, who has stood apart,
ashamed) : Yes. Please come to me. (Rachel
goes to her.) I don't wish to speak unkindly,
but, through you, Lennard's career has been de-
stroyed for the time — —

Rachel: Oh, don't say that!

Mrs. Wilmore : I must. My son was in a
great position. He might have hoped for any
honors — the highest — he had a splendid future.
To-day he's a disgraced pauper — through you !

Lennard: Mother! Mother! Rachel, come
away with me.

Mrs. Wilmore: No, Lennard, please let her
hear me! (To Rachel.) I'm not reproaching
you. It's done. But now you're going to do him
a further injury

Rachel: No! No!

Mrs. Wilmore : Yes ! If you leave him, and
go out of his life, this disgrace will pass away
and be forgotten. We have some influential
friends in London. In a few years he will re-
deem his mistake, and make a good marriage.
Won't you give him a chance? Haven't you done
him harm enough?

Rachel: Oh, what am I to do?

Lennard : Come away with me ! Mother, I'll
never give her up now.

hlrs. Wilmore: Then I hope she'll have the
good sense and the good feeling to give you up.

Lennard : Rachel !

Mrs. Wilmore : Keep silence, Lennard, if you
please, and let me save you from this last dis-
honor. What do you say?

Rachel : I love him so much ! I can't give him
up now ! You won't ask me ! I've promised Mr.
Linnell! (Linnell appears at door.) Ah, tell me!
Must I give Lennard up? Is it for his good? Tell
me I ought, and I'll try to do it, even now !

Mrs. Wilmore: Mr. Linnell, please keep away
from us now ! I won't have you interfere in this.
(To Rachel.) You've heard what I said ! Don't
listen to hiu..

Linnell: She will listen to me. And you will
listen to me.

Mrs. Wilmore: I won't! Go, please! (Point-
ins.) The door! The door!

Linnell (to Lennard) : Miss Neve, Lennard,
please leave me a few minutes with Mrs. Wil-
more. (Motioning them to door, left.)

Mrs. Wilmore: No! No!

Linnell: If you please, Lennard!

Lennard: Rachel (Taking her off.)

Mrs. Wilmore: Is it always to be so? Will
vou always come in my way?

Linnell: Always! till you're in the right way.

Mrs. Wilmore: I won't hear you.

Linnell: Ah, but you will!

Mrs. Wilmore: No! No! You've broken up
my home, you've defeated all my hopes, you've
ruined my son, you're parting me from him now
when I love and need him most, you're sendmg
him away to India to die, perhaps, out there-^I
may never see him again. You'v- done all this !
Well, you've done it ! So be satisfied with your
work, and let me be!

Linnell: My work isn't finished

Mrs. Wilmore: Not finished? Pray, what
more have you to do?

Linnell : To open your eyes ! To make you
see what you would have done ! Think of it !
And you asked me, Gi d's minister, to wink at
your foul trick and help you — help you prepare
a long life of treachery and distrust for your son
and his bride! . . .

Mrs. Wilmore: You have stopped me I So
be content.

Linnell : No, not till you own your son is doing
right.

Mrs. Wilmore: To marry that girl?

Linnell: Yes! They love each other. Their
future will be all the more secure from their
bitter remembrance of the past. They'll work out
their repentance in a great love. He'll build his
house on the true love of man and wife. It will
stand. His hopes, his honor, his safety, his duty,
his happiness, — all lie with her. Can't you see
that ?

Mrs. Wilmore: I can see nothing, except that
I'm to lose Lennard.

Linnell: No. (Takes out a letter.) Please
read that. (Gives it to her.)

Mrs. Wilmore: From Sir John Plugenet?
(She opens and reads the letter.)

Linnell: He feels sorry he made this story pub-
lic. I've been with him and his lawyer all this
morning. He proposes to take over all your
mortgages, and leave you in possession here on
easy "terms.

Mrs. Wilmore: But we shall owe everything
to Sir John Plugenet! (Reading on.) No!
Worse than that ! He says, "In conclusion, I may
tell you that I am making this arrangement purely
on the persuasion of Mr. Linnell. If it should
secure your future well-being and happiness, you

will owe it to him " I can't ! I can't ! To owe

everything to you !

Linnell: Don't think of me as your creditor.
Think of me as your servant, God's servant, and
therefore your servant, sent to hold a light to
your path, and smooth it where it's rough and
thorny. . .

Mrs. Wilmore (giving her hand) : I'll try. But
Lennard — Lennard is going from me.

Linnell: Go with him. A friend has given me
money for a passage to India, and a year's stay
there

Mrs. Wilmore: A friend! Helen Plugenet!

Linnell: She has forgiven. You will forgive,
too? Come to their marriage to-morrow, and go
out to India with them. If you refuse, he will
still make her his wife. You can't hinder that.
Then you will remember all your life that you
parted from him in anger. If, as you said, he
should die out there

Mrs. Wilmore : Bring them in ! Bring them in !

Linnell goes to door, left, beckons to Rachel and
Lennard, who enter.

Mrs. Wilmore (to Linnell) : You've broken my
heart! (To Rachel.) Come to me, my dear.
(The tzvo women embrace in tears.)

Linnell (to Lennard) : Your mother is going
to your marriage to-morrow, and to India with

^ Lennard: Mother, is that so? (Mrs. Wilmore-
nods and smiles.) . . . , ,,

Linnell: Now my work in Weybury is finished!
To-morrow all your lives begin anew!

Religion and Ethics

A POET'S REVERIE BEFORE THE GATE OF DEATH

NE of the significant signs of the
times is the invasion of the theologi-
cal field by laymen. Grave questions
S^ of religion and immortality used to
be handled almost exclusively by ecclesiastical
experts. Nowadays the most sacred topics are
freely discussed by scientists, artists and
poets. And v^^ho can say that religion has not
been the gainer by the change? At least it is
certain that if every theological treatise were
written with the deft touch and unfailing poetic
charm of a newly published volume entitled
"The Gate of Death,"* the complaint would
never be made that religious problems are dull.
The author of this unique work is understood
to be Mr. A. C. Benson, the English poet and
essayist, and a son of the late Archbishop of
Canterbury. He sets forth his argument in
the form of a diary which records his thought-
life as he lay, during long weeks, before the
"gate of death," disabled by an all but fatal
accident. Face to face with the dark angel,
he tells how the relative values of things were
changed for him; in what aspect his past life
appeared to him; and with what heart he con-
fronted the unknown. "One hardly knows
where in the literature of English," says the
New York Evening Post, "to turn for an
equally ingenious record of the experience of
a human soul which has passed through the
Valley of the Shadow and returned to con-
sciousness of its house of flesh." The London
Telegraph goes so far as to say: "Hardly any
book since 'In Memoriam' has presented such
notable claims to the consideration of popular
theology."

The disabling accident is described as having
taken place in the garden of a married sister's
country home. It was followed by a period of
complete unconsciousness, during which the
doctor despaired of the patient's life. As he
lay in bed all that he remembers is "a kind of
fevered twilight," "loud booming sounds," "a
face, strangely distorted." Sometimes he
seemed "like a diver, struggling upwards
through dim waters." Once he "came out
quite suddenly on life, as from a dark tunnel,
and saw two people bending over something
which they held in their hands close to a bright

*Thb Gatk of Death. A Diary. G. P. Putnam's Sons.

light." The first definite emotion of which he
was conscious was affection. "I felt it," he
says, "mostly in the form of compassion for
those who were evidently so much distressed
at what seemed to me a thing of very little
moment. I had a sense of gratitude for the
care and tenderness that were centered on me;
a certain sorrow that I should give so much
trouble." And then, as other thoughts re-
turned, "like hovering birds to an empty dove-
cote," there fell on him a mood of introspec-
tion. He began to estimate what his life meant
to him, what there was in it of good or bad.
The result surprised him:

"I cared not at all for my personal successes;
not at all about the little position I had achieved;
not at all about having labored steadily and con-
scientiously— all those things seemed unreal and
immaterial. I did not even care to think that I
had, however fitfully and feebly, tried to serve
the will of God, tried to discern it, tried to follow
it. In that hour was revealed to me that I could
not have done otherwise, that all my life, success
and failure alike, had been but a minute expres-
sion of that supreme will and thought. What I
did care about was the thought that I had made
a few happier, that I had done a few kindnesses,
that I had won some love. I was glad that there
had been occasions when I had conquered natural
irritability and selfish anxiety, had said a kind
and an affectionate thing. Rectitude and pru-
dence, they seemed to matter nothing; what op-
pressed me was the thought that I might have
been readier to do little deeds of affection, to have
been more unselfish, more considerate."

In the face of his own vivid experience the
writer was led to feel that most of what he
had read in books about the sensations of dy-
ing men was "unutterably false and vain." He
says on this point:

"These books do not approach the real expe-
rience at all. They seem to have been composed
by comfortable people siting in armchairs and
trying to fancy what death would be like; but it
is like nothing in the world, different, not in
degree, but in kind, from any imagination that
any one can form. I suppose that different people
have different experiences; but the hollowest and
emptiest of all the things written on the subject
seem to me to be the consolations suggested. For
instance, it is said in religious books that the
memory of a virtuous life brings peace, the
memory of an ill-spent life brings agony. If
there is any shadow of truth in that, it resides
in the fact, I believe, that people of virtuous and
temperate lives are generally people of well-
balanced and tranquil temperaments, not as a rule
imaginative or passionate or desirous; such peo-

RELIGION AND ETHICS

197

pie would be likely to meet death as simply and
quietly as they had met life; but on the other
hand, people who have yielded freely to tempta-
tion, who have gratified sensual impulse, are gen-
erally people of unbalanced, eager, impatient tem-
peraments, greedy of joy, subject to terror,
imaginative, highly-strung, restless, fanciful. To
such as these death would perhaps be full of
fears. But it is sensitiveness and imaginativeness
that make, I believe, the difference, and not the
thovight of sins and failures. The greatest saint
in the world, if of a self-reproachful tempera-
ment, would be likely to have abundance of fail-
ures to recall, a deep sense of opportunities
missed, a passionate remorse for wasted hours;
while on the other hand a strong, coarse, bestial
nature would probably face death with a surly
indifference.

"But my own experience is that one hardly
thinks of the past at all, that the imagination is
dulled and the senses concentrated upon the ebb-
ing life."

It has sometimes been urged that the uni-
versality of death robs it of some of its hor-
rors ; but the author of "The Gate of Death"
avers that during his sickness such an idea
never even dimly entered his mind. "The
loneliness of the experience is so great," he
says, "the isolation so complete, that one does
not think, at least I did not, of others in con-
nection with it at all. My feeling was that the
experience was so strange that I could not
fancy that any one had ever experienced it
before; it appeared absolutely unique and per-
sonal." To quote further:

"What really appals the mind, what came upon
me with a force that I had never contemplated,
was the terrible loneliness and isolation of it all.
Here, in this world, one can always resort, how-
ever much alone one is, to familiar books and
thoughts; one can turn to nature; one can call
another human being to one's assistance; but the
thought came home to me in those hours how
little fit one is for loneliness, and how little of
one's thought is given to anything but the well-
known material surroundings of the world in
which we move. From dawn to night one lives in
these customary things, one is wholly occupied
in them; even at night one trafficks in dreams
with the same wares, rearranging memory and
reminiscence to suit one's fantastic taste. I .felt
how slender and faint one's spiritual life was;
how dreamful and vague one's speculations were;
how wholly imaginary and inconclusive. Was it
possible, I wondered, was it advisable to live more
in the things of the spirit ? It seemed to me that
it was not possible, not advisable; if the region
of the spirit were a definite one, full of unques-
tioned facts and definite laws; if one arrived by
speculation any nearer to one's conception of God
and of the soul, if man after rnan succeeded in
making discoveries about the life of the spirit
which could not be gainsaid, it would be dif-
ferent; but each mystical and spiritual nature
treads a lonely path; the discoveries, the cer-
tainties of one are not confirmed by, nay, are
frequently at variance with, the discoveries and
certainties of another. In mystical reveries we

are merely building an imagined house of our
own in the gloom. The prophet of old saw the
celestial city as a square fortress crowning a
crag, with gemlike foundations and gates of
pearly hue: but can we be assured for a moment
that any such place existed out of his beautiful
imagination? Is it not rather clear that the
dreaming mind was but painting its own fancies
upon the void?"

The writer goes on to state very frankly
and definitely his own attitude toward immor-
tality :

"It seems to me that just as I cannot conceive of
the annihilation of existing matter, neither can I
conceive of the annihilation of what I call vital
force and consciousness. The life that animates
matter is to my mind fully as real and actual as
matter itself. As to consciousness, that is a dif-
ferent question, because life can certainly exist,
as in the case of a person stunned by a blow,
when consciousness does not exist, or when at
all events the memory of consciousness does not
exist afterwards. It may be that consciousness is
dependent upon the union of life and matter; but
I believe with all my heart in the indestructib'lity
of life, and I thus believe that when I die, when
my body moulders into dust, the life that ani-
mated it is as much in existence as it was before.
Further than this I dare not go, because all the
evidence that there is seems to point to a sus-
pension of consciousness after death. How that
vital force may be employed I cannot guess. It
may sink back into a central reservoir of life,
just as the particles of my body will be distrib-
uted among both animal and inanimate matter
when I have ceased to be. It may be that the
vital force which I call myself may be distributed
again among other lives; it may be that it is a
definite and limited thing, a separate call or
center; and thus it may hereafter animate another
body — such things are not incredible. But in any
case it is all in the hands of God; and though I
may desire that I knew more definitely what the
secret is, it is clear to me that I am not intended
to know; and it is clear to me, too, that all who
have professed to know, or to assure us of the
truth of theories, are either building upon their
own imaginations or upon the imaginations of
others, and that none of the theories that we so
passionately desire to believe belong to the region
of even practical certainties."

Gradually the writer was given strength to
turn away from the gate of death. He shares
with the reader his sense of the exhilaration
of daily increasing vitality. He tells of the
simple joys of a slow convalescence — of com-
panionship and sympathy that made him feel
more truly than ever before the privilege of
mere life and consciousness. And he closes
with a prose-poem that symbolizes his own
deepest thought of death:

"I walked this afternoon, just at sunset, alone,
along a little lane near the house, which has be-
come very familiar to me of late, and is haunted
by many beautiful and grateful memories. I was
very happy in the consciousness of recovered
strength, and yet there was a sadness of fare-

198

CURRENT LITERATURE

well in my mind, of farewell to a strange and
solemn period of my life, which, in spite of gloom
and even fear, has been somehow filled with a
great happiness — the happiness of growing nearer,
I think, to the heart of the world.

"The lane at one point dips sharply down out
of a little wood, and commands a wide view over
flat, rich water-meadows, with a slow, full
stream moving softly among hazels and alders.
The sun had just set, and the sky was suffused
with a deep orange glow, that seemed to burn and
smolder with a calm and secret fire, struggling
with dim smoky vapors on the rim of the world.
The color was dying fast out of the fields, but
I could see the dusky green of the pastures among
the lines of trees, which held up their leafless,
intricate boughs against the western glow, and
the pale spaces of stubble on the low hills which
rose wooded from the plain. The stream
gleamed wan between its dark banks, in pools
and reedy elbows. The whole scene was charged
to the brim with a peace that was not calm or

tranquil, but ardent and intense, as though
thrilled with an eager and secret apprehension of
joy.

"Just at that moment over the stream sailed a
great heron, with curved wings, black against the
sky, dipping and sinking with a deliberate poise
to his sleeping-place.

"So would I that my soul might fall, not hur-
riedly or timorously, but with a glad and con-
tented tranquillity, to the shining waters of death ;
to rest, while all is dark, until the dawn of that
other morning, sleeping quietly, or if in waking
peace, hearing nothing but the whisper of the
night-wind over the quiet grasses, or the slow
and murmurous lapse of the stream, moving
liquidly downward beside its dark banks.

"God rests, but ceases not. Through day and
night alike beats the vast heart, pulsing in its
secret cell. Through me, too, throbs that vital
tide. What pain, what silence shall ever avail to
bind that nightly impulse, or make inanimate
whatever once has breathed and loved?"

BERNARD SHAW'S RELIGION

"1 T will come as a surprise to many to
learn that Bernard Shaw, the sub-
versive and paradoxical dramatist,
regards religion as "the most inter-
esting thing in the world." He has confessed
that, as a dramatic critic in London, he often
wondered why people paid high prices to see
bad theatrical performances, when, by going to
Westminster Abbey or St. Paul's Cathedral,
they might have listened to "much more inter-
esting talk" free of charge. On the invitation
of the Rev. R. J. Campbell, Mr. Shaw recently
occupied the pulpit of the most influential Con-
gregationalist Church in England, the London
City Temple, and from this point of vantage
defined his religious views. His address was
attentively listened to by a large and enthusi-
astic audience, and, according to a reporter for
The Christian Commonwealth (London), was
distinguished by an attitude "essentially rever-
ent." In fact, Mr. Campbell, who presided
over the meeting and took occasion to affirm
his substantial agreement with Shaw's posi-
tion, has since declared: "The one thing that
astonished the City Temple audience was the
moral seriousness of Mr. Shaw."

"It is from the great poet, who is always the
really religious man, that we get true ideas
on great subjects," said Mr. Shaw at the out-
set of his address ; and he illustrated the state-
ment by citing Voltaire and Ibsen. Voltaire
has often been called an atheist, but, in Ber-
nard Shaw's opinion, his religious ideas, so far
from being atheistic, were much the same as
those held by the leaders of the Free Churches
in England to-day. In view of the celebrated

Frenchman's "splendid record of social work,
his far-sightedness, his self-sacrificing philan-
thropy," the lecturer urged that Free Church-
men should set up busts of Voltaire in all their
places of worship. This led to an allusion to
Ibsen, a "very great religious force in the nine-
teenth century," and a quotation from "Brand"
("the history of a deeply religious man") of
the passage in which the hero protests, "I do
not believe in your God. Your God is an old
man, my God is a young man." We are apt,
remarked Mr. Shaw, to picture God as an el-
derly gentleman with a beard, whereas "He
ought to be typified as an Eternally Young
Man."

According to Mr. Shaw's definition, a re-
ligious man is "a man who has a constant
sense, amounting on his part to a positive
knowledge, that he is only the instrument of a
Power which is a Universal Power, the Power
that created the universe and brought it into
being; that he is not in the world for his own
narrow purposes, but that he is the instrument
of that Power." Given that belief, said Mr.
Shaw, it was of no consequence what else a
man might hold; without it a man had no re-
ligion in him. The lecturer went on to say :

"The great tragedy of human character is
human cowardice. We pretend that we are brave
men, but the reason why a nation will allow noth-
ing to be said against its courage is because it
knows it has none. Without fear we could not
live a single day : if you were not afraid of being
run over, you would be run over before you got
home. What will really nerve a man, what, as
history has shown over and over again, will turn
a coward into a brave man, is the belief that he
is the instrument of a larger and higher Power.

RELIGION AND ETHICS

199

What he makes of this conviction and the power
it gives depends upon his brain or conscience. It
is useless for people to imagine they have apolo-
gized for everything when they say, 'I did my
best, I acted according to my conscience.' The
one thing you will never get in this life is any
simple rule of conduct that will get you through
life."

Mr. Shaw thereupon paid his respects to
what he regards as the almost universal habit
of keeping business and religion in separate
mental compartments. Actually, he said, there
is a very widespread feeling that any man who
makes an attempt to apply religion to the
affairs of life ought to be suppressed. Now
he, for his part, did not pretend to "keep Sun-
day holy in such a tremendous manner as the
ordinary city man does;" but, on the other
hand, he did not altogether secularize Monday
and the other days. To quote further;

"The religious life is a happy life. Because I
do not eat meat and drink whisky people think I
am an ascetic. I am not. I am a voluptuary ! I
avoid eating meat because it is a nasty thing to
eat; I avoid drinking whisky because it gives me
unpleasant and disagreeable sensations. I want
to live the rleasantest sort of life I possibly can.
What I like is not what people call pleasure,
which is the most dreadful and boring thing on
the face of the earth, but life itself. And that, of
course, is the genuinely religious view to take:
because life is a very wonderful thing. Life is
this force outside yourself that you are in the
hands of. You must not forget that the ordinary
man who is not religious, who does not know
that he is an instrument in the hands of the
Higher Power, is nevertheless such an instru-
ment all the time. While I have been describing
the religious man you have been saying, 'That's
me !' and while I have been describing the irre-
ligious man you have been saying, 'That's Jones !'
But I don't want you to feel uncharitable towards
Jones. Although only an agricultural laborer,
Jones may be doing the work of the universe in
a more efficient way than the man who has be-
come conscious of the Higher Power and brought
his own mind to bear upon it, but not having a
first-rate mind, and being mixed up with purely
rationalistic theories of the universe, he may be
doing a great deal of mischief, doing something
to defeat the Higher Power. For it is possible
to defeat that Power."

The audience is said to have followed with
"breathless interest" Mr. Shaw's next state-
ment, which goes right to the core of his argu-
ment and expresses a theory of Deity most
striking and suggestive:

"Any personal belief is a document, at any rate.
You may think mine fantastic, even paradoxical.
I have more or less swallowed all the formulas,
I have been in all the churches, studied all the
religions with a great deal of sympathy, and I
will tell you where I have come out. Most people
call this great Force in the universe God. . I.am
not very fond of the term myself, because it is a
little too personal, too close to the idea of the

elderly gentleman with the beard. But we won't
quarrel about the term. To me the Higher
Power is something larger than a personal Force
But even the people who would agree with m.-
there still cling to the idea that it is an almighty
force, that it is a force which can directly and
immediately do what it likes. But if so, why
in the name of common -sense did He make such
creatures as you and I? H He wants His will
fulfilled on earth, why did He put Himself in the
position of having to have that will fulfilled by
our potions? Because what is done in this world
has to be done by us. We know that a lot of
work lies before us. What we call civilization
has landed us in horrible iniquities and injustices.
W^e have got to get rid of them, and it has to be
done by us. There is the dilemma. Why is it
not done by God? I believe God, in the popular
acceptance of the word, to be completely power-
less. I do not believe that God has any hands
or brain of our kind. What I know He has, or
rather is, is Will. But will is useless without
hands and brain. Then came a process, which
Ave call evolution. I do not mean natural selec-
tion as popularized by Charles Darwin. He did
not discover or even popularize evolution; on the
contrary, he drove evolution out of men's minds
for half a century, and we have only just got it
back again. The evolutionary process to me is God
— this wonderful Will of the universe, struggling
and struggling, and bit by bit making hands and
brains for Himself, feeling that, having this will,
He must also have material organs with which to
grapple with material things ;' and that is the
reason we have come into existence."

In words that must have come with strange
force from the lips of a man who seldom
speaks directly and seriously, and who has
spoken so often in biting epigram and irrever-
ent satire, Mr. Shaw concluded:

"H you don't do His work it won't be done ;
if you turn away from it, if you sit down and
say, 'Thy will be done,' you might as well be the
most irreligious person on the face of the earth.
But if you will stand by your God, if you will say,
'My business is to do Your will, my hands are
Your hands, my tongue is Your tongue, my brain
is Your brain, I am here to do Thy work, and I
will do it,' you will get rid of other worldliness,
you will get rid of all that religion which is made
an excuse and a cloak for doing nothing, and
you will learn not only to worship your God, but
also to have a fellow-feeling with Him. . . .

"This conception that I am doing God's work in
the world gives me a certain self-satisfaction —
not with the limitations of my power and the
extravagances of my brain or hand — but a cer-
tain self-respect and force in the world. People
like their religion to be what they call comfort-
ing. I want my religion to give me self-respect
and courage, and I can do without comfort, with-
out happiness, without everything else. This sort
of faith really overcomes the power of death."

On the strength of this address Sir Oliver
Lodge, the eminent English scientist, whose
recent utterances and articles on religious sub-
jects have attracted world-wide attention, finds
"Mr. Shaw also among the prophets ;" and Mr.

200

CURRENT LITERATURE

G. K. Chesterton, the London author and jour-
nalist, draws the inference that it is impossible
for a man in the modern world to be complete-
ly intelligent and a complete materialist. The
Christian Commonwealth is convinced that
Bernard Shaw, whatever one may think of his
views, is "undoubtedly one of the people who

make history of the intellectual sort." It com-
ments further: "Such utterances and episodes
as these are indicative of the enormous change
that has taken place in recent years in the at-
titude of the most brilliant intellects of the
time to the problems with which religion con-
cerns itself."

ORGANIZING CHRISTIAN WORKINGMEN IN GERMANY

N order to counteract the anti-Chris-
tian tendencies of the Social Demo-
cratic movement, a concerted effort
is being made, on the part of Chris-
tian leaders in both the Roman Catholic and
Protestant churches of Germany, to unite the
laboring people under the banner of Christian
principles and teachings. As a result of this
effort, a "Christian Social party," under the
leadership of the ex-Court Preacher Stocker,
of Berlin, has already been organized, and
several labor unions with a pronounced Chris-
tian and Catholic program, have been estab-
lished under the patronage of Roman Catho-
lic Archbishops. Moreover, the official heads
of the Roman Catholic and Protestant labor
unions have now joined in a public appeal to
the working people of Germany to establish
and maintain only such organizations as recog-
nize the positive teachings of Christianity.
The Chronik der christlichen Welt (Mar-
burg), which devotes the whole of a recent
issue to this new movement, publishes the
appeal in full. It is signed by Dr. A. Pieper,
in the name of the Catholic labor unions of
Western Germany; by E. Walterbach, in the
name of the Catholic labor unions of Southern
Germany; by Pastor Weber, as chairman of
the united Protestant labor unions of Ger-
many, and by the executive committee of the
non-denominational Christian unions of the
country. The appeal distinctly declares that
the object of the new movement is not, and
in the nature of the case cannot be, denomi-
national, and bases its arguments on the
assumption that there are fundamental teach-
ings of the Christian religion maintained by
both Roman Catholics and Evangelical Protes-
tants. The need of the times, it says, is to
root all the unions fairly and squarely in
Christian principles; to consider labor in all
of its relations from the Biblical standpoint;
and to regulate the dealings between em-
ployers and employees in accordance with
these principles, thus making labor unions
and the labor movement important factors in

the interests of Christian culture and civiliza-
tion. The appeal deplores the fact that hith-
erto so many Christian workingmen have
stood aloof from distinctively Christian labor
organizations, and maintains that the interests
of both Christianity and labor demand a seri-
ous reform in this respect. Protestant and
Catholic labor unions are described as "two
great armies which the Christian workingman
can employ in order to advance his best in-
terests."

In connection with the appeal, the Chronik
quotes from the Wanderer, the organ of some
of these Christian unions, statistics showing
the strength of the associations. While the
Social Democrats are able to command sev-
eral million votes, the non-Social Democratic
organizations command only about 900,000,
distributed as follows:

Christian Trade Unions 300,000

Catholic Labor Associations 300,000

Protestant Labor Associations 130,000

Catholic Journeymen's Unions 7S,ooo

German National Clerk Association.. 81,000
Trades Societies 120,000

Side by side with this joint movement there
are also working class organizations speci-
fically Catholic and Protestant in character.
Of the latter the most prominent is a "Na-
tional Christian Workingman's Committee,"
recently formed, with the sanction of Dr.
Stocker and Pastor Weber, for the purpose
of electing Protestant candidates in the Par-
liamentary elections in 1908, and creating a
party that shall represent the Protestants in
Parliament, as the Center represents the
Roman Catholic Church. A convention of the
representatives of the Protestant organiza-
tions was held at the end of October in Cas-
sel, and worked out a program in considerable
detail, beginning with the words: "We stand
on the ground of Evangelical Christianity."
A convention on a still grander scale was held
in Berlin in the last week in January. The
movement has also spread to Holland, and has
taken root there among the textile workers.

RELIGION AND ETHICS

20I

HARNACK'S NEW THEOLOGICAL DEPARTURE

I HE latest work of Adolf Harnack,
defending Luke's authorship of the
book of "Acts," and constituting
the piece de resistance in a new
series of special New Testament handbooks
published in Leipzig, seems to confirm the
claims of those who have all along maintained
that in the brilliant Berlin theologian — now
conceded to be the most famous and influential
theologian of the Protestant world — there are
two minds struggling for supremacy, one con-
servative and evangelical, and the other criti-
cal and neological. At any rate, he has man-
aged to keep the theological world on the qui
vive in regard to the trend and tendency
of every book that he has published. It is
scarcely ten years since he inaugurated a theo-
logical controversy by advising his students
to ask that the Apostles' Creed be stricken
from the ordination vow, on the ground that
portions of it, notably the declaration in re-
spect to the conception of Christ by the Holy
Ghost and His birth from a virgin, no longer
expressed the best results of modern theologi-
cal research. Soon afterwards he delighted
the conservative world with his "Chronology
of the New Testament," in which he declared
that the historical data found in the New
Testament books could easily be understood as
the outcome of a single generation's develop-
ment, and ascribed to a number of New Testa-
ment books, especially the Pauline letters, an
even earlier date than that claimed by such
conservatives as Zahn. The cry that Harnack
had become conservative, then raised, was
effectually hushed by the appearance of his
famous "Essence of Christianity," which takes
the position that Jesus Himself finds no place
in the gospel as He proclaimed it, and which
has come to be regarded by friend and foe as
a most perfect expression of modern radical
New Testament criticism. Now Harnack has
again turned upon his own tracks, and in this
new work, entitled "Luke the Physician, the
Author of the Third Gospel and of the Acts
of the Apostles," has fundamentally, it would
seem, gone over into the conservative camp.
In fact, if not formally, the book recognizes
the traditional authorship and authenticity of
two New Testament books, and this in the face
of the data and facts furnished by that inner
literary criticism which is generally regarded
as the last court of appeals in advanced circles.
Incidentally, it may be suggested that the seem-

ing contradictions in Harnack's theological
development can be explained psychologically
by two facts. On the one hand, it must not
be forgotten that this eminent German thinker
came originally of strong and stalwart Luther-
an stock, his father. Professor Theodosius
Harnack, of the University of Rostock, hav-
ing in his day been one of the most pro-
nounced exponeiits of the strict Erlangen
school. On the other hand, it is necessary to
take account of the fact that Harnack himself
received his theological training at a time
when the principles of the new critical school
were beginning to supersede the older doc-
trines in the universities of the Fatherland and
in Protestant theology in general.

Harnack is now a decided defender of Luke
as the author of both the third gospel and of
the entire "Acts." It is the "Acts," rather than
the book of Luke, which constitutes debatable
ground for the theologians. Harnack appeals
to the third gospel chiefly in confirmation of
his claim that Luke is also the author of the
"Acts." His line of argument is briefly this —
that, as it is generally admitted, even by most
critical scholars, that the so-called "We" sec-
tion in the "Acts," i.e., those portions in which
the writer speaks of himself as having par-
ticipated in the events recorded, are genuine,
this fact, correctly interpreted in the light of
the third gospel, compels the acceptance of
Luke as the writer of the entire book of
"Acts."

Of even greater importance and value than
his defense of Luke as the author of the
"Acts" is Harnack's insistence that the con-
tents of the book, despite some critical difficul-
ties, are historically reliable and correct. Not-
withstanding the claim of critics that the "Acts"
is a one-sided representation, or rather mis-
representation, of the actual course of events,
Harnack contends that Luke's account of
primitive Christianity is substantially correct;
that his story of the origin of the Church
among the Gentiles is also in accordance with
facts; that Paul's relation to the law is truth-
fully recorded ; that there is no evidence what-
ever that the author has, in the interests of any
peculiar tendency, suppressed or perverted the
truth; that he is writing not as a panegyrist,
but as an objective historian; and that as a
literary production the "Acts" is a work of
prime value and worth. According to Har-
nack's view, Luke was not even a blind dev-

202

CURRENT LITERATURE

otee of St. Paul — at any rate he hardly shared
Paul's profound conceptions of sin and grace.
He was rather a warm advocate of the Pauline
doctrine of universal grace. In short, Luke's
writings must be regarded as historical
sources of the first quality. Harnack goes so
far as to claim that primitive Chris-
tianity was fully developed, in accordance
with Luke's accounts, between the years 30
to 70 A. D., and that this development
took place in Palestine, and more particularly
in Jerusalem. Only to a limited extent, he
avers, was the early Christian Church affected
by the pronounced Jewish influence in the
provinces of Phrygia and Asia, and "the criti-
val view," he continues, "which claims that
early Christianity was developed under in-
fluences found throughout the Gentile diaspora
and extending over a period of at least one
hundred years, is incorrect."

Luke is not regarded by Harnack as reliable
in every particular. Th5 German theologian
is inclined to doubt the authenticity of the re-
ports of many miracles credited to the early

Apostles. He suggests that Luke at times ac-
cepted testimony from unreliable sources, as,
for instance, in the case of the four daughters
of Philip and their prophetic gift (Acts: xxi.

9)-

These conclusions have aroused keen inter-
est in theological circles. A prominent con-
servative paper of Leipzig, the Kirchenzeitung,
thinks that "the modern critical school will
scarcely thank Harnack for what he has writ-
ten about Luke." It is significant that, with
one or two exceptions, the advanced journals
have preserved an awkward silence in regard
to the unexpected turn affairs have taken.
Even the Christliche Welt, of Marburg, gen-
erally fair even to opposition views, has given
Harnack's new departure no serious attention.
On the other hand, the conservative Litera-
turblatt of Leipzig, while welcoming Harnack's
researches, claims that the problem is not yet
fully solved and that more evidence is needed
before it can be said to be proved that the
contents of the book of "Acts" are perfectly
reliable and correct.

MONCURE CONWAY'S PILGRIMAGE TO INDIA

^^S\HERE is a sense in which the life of
Moncure Conway, from the begin-
ning until now, may be described as
the pilgrimage of a truth-seeker.
He has journeyed far and long since the days
when he began his Methodist ministry in the
South, has seen the world from many angles,
has undergone fundamental intellectual
changes. Two years ago he published an
autobiography which told of his acquaintance
and conversation with many of the most emi-
nent men of our age. Now he has written a
kind of spiritual autobiography* in which he
describes his journey to India in search of a
truer wisdom than any he had known.

Mr. Conway had been for twenty years the
leader of the South Place ethical congrega-
tion in London, when, in the summer of 1883,
he was granted a vacation that made possible
the fulfilment of a long-cherished dream. He
was anxious to revisit America; to lecture
in Australia; and, above all, to get a personal
impression of the country which had always
fascinated him more than any other, the coun-

•My Pilgrimage to the Wise Mem of the East. By
Moncure Daniel Conway. Houghton, Mifflin & Company.

try which may almost be described as the
cradle of all religions — India.

"Grateful am I to sit at the feet of any
master," says Mr. Conway, in a foreword to
his present work, "and nothing could give me
greater happiness than to find a master in the
field to which the energies of my life have
been given — religion and religions." It was
in this spirit that he traveled to India, search-
ing for "wise men" who could answer his
questions and throw new light on the prob-
lems with which he had grappled. His quest,
it may as well be said at once, was only in
part successful. There are some things which
mortal mind cannot compass, and before
which the Oriental and the Westerner alike
must stand mute. But, at least, in this unique
pilgrimage, Mr. Conway succeeded in gaining
a real insight into the Eastern mind; and in
his new book he has interpreted that mind
most suggestively, correcting many of the
false ideas hitherto cherished by Europeans
and Americans.

Almost all of the facts in regard to Indian
religion, he thinks, have been colored by mis-
sionary partizanship. The sentiments ex-

Photograph by Van der Weyde

says

MONCURE DANIEL CONWAY
Whose latest work, describing his pUgrimage to "the Wise Men of the East." differs from other books of travel,
a London critic, "as a picture by a master differs from a photograph.

204

CURRENT LITERATURE

BUDUllIST I'KIESTS OF CEYLON

During his sojourn in India Mr. Conway mixed freely with the priests,
visiting them in their temples and theological seminaries, and discussing .with
them the problems of religion.

pressed by Bishop Heber in a famous hymn —

"What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's Isle;

Though every prospect pleases
And only man is vile" —

are only too typical, avers Mr. Convv^ay, of a
certain kind of missionary spirit. Ever since
our childhood we have been nurtured on stories
of Indian idol-worship and the bloody car of
the Juggenauth. But, as Mr. Conway ex-
plains, even the humble Indians do not wor-
ship idols in themselves. "The images are
covered with symbolical ornaments," he says,
"representing the character or legendary
deeds of this or that divinity. Each divinity
has a certain day in the month and a certain
hour when he or she enters his or her temple,
and by a temporary transubstantiation enters
the image. After receiving due offerings the
deity departs, and from that moment until the
return of their festival the image is without
any sanctity whatever." As to the Jugge-
nauth story, Mr. Conway writes :

"I found learned men in India, both native and
English, puzzled by the evil reputation of Jugge-
' nauth and his famous Car, throughout Christen-
dom. He is a form of Vishnu, the Lord of Life,
to whom all destruction is abhorrent. The death
of the smallest creature beneath the wheels of
that car, much more of a human being, would
entail long and costly ceremonies of purification.
It is surmised that the obstinate and proverbial
fiction about the Car of Juggenauth must have
originated in some accident witnessed by a mis-
sionary who supposed it to be a regular part of
the ceremonies. There have been suicides in
India, as in Christian countries, from religious
mania, but the place where they are least likely

to occur is in the neighborhood
of Juggenauth. . . .

"The effort to prove that hu-
man sacrifices occurred under
the Car of Juggenauth has totally
failed. The lower classes still
continue the animal sacrifices on
great festival occasions, but one
cannot say how far this is due
to the motive of propitiation, or
simply the continuance of old
usages without any conscious
purpose. At any rate, the pres-
ence of blood on any altar in
India means a sacrifice to some
demon."

During his sojourn in
India, Mr. Conway had un-
equaled opportunities for con-
versing with the priests and
sages, visiting the temples,
and witnessing the religious
ceremonies. "The Buddhist
religion," he declares, "begin-
ning with a philosophy that
seems pessimistic — without
deity or faith in any paradise, heavenly
or millennial — has produced the happiest
believers on earth;" and he says that while
he was in Ceylon he did not see a single

SUMANGALA, THE BUDDHIST PRIMATE

One of the "wise men" whom Moncure Conway
went to India to meet. Sumangala showed great cor-
diality toward the visitor, and when Mr. Conway lec-
tured in Colombo, sat on the platform beside him.

RELIGION AND ETHICS

205

child crying. He was greatly
impressed by the care with
which Buddhist families are in-
structed in the moral tales and
parables of their religion.
"While the Christian mother is
telling her child the story of
the Prodigal Son, the Pearl
searched for, the Leaven and
Meal, the Buddhist mother is
telling her child tales and par-
ables just as sweet; and so far
as they come from the un-
sophisticated mother's heart
such instructions are alike in
justice and compassionateness."
Mr. Conway enjoyed the rare
privilege of visiting Widyoaya
College, a Buddhist institution
not far from Colombo, and
presided over by Sumangala,
the Buddhist Primate and
"Priest of Adam's Peak." He
was admitted to the classrooms,
and listened while the priest
read an eloquent and moving
plea for free thought, written
by Buddha two hundred and
fifty years before Christ was
born. Then followed a collo-
quy, which Mr. Conway describes:

"Invited to question, I asked the priest about
covetousness, and why it occupied such a cardinal
place among the sins. I observed that all com-
merce is developed from man's desire for what
belongs to his neighbor. I asked whether it
might not be possible that originally the covetous
eye meant the evil eye ; it being still believed in
some parts of England that if one strongly de-
sires a thing belonging to another, that thing may
be so rendered useless to its owner or even de-
stroyed. The priests knew of no such supersti-
tion, and Sumangala said that covetousness was
not associated with the things a man desired to
exchange, and that it was regarded by Buddhism
as especially evil because of its lasting effects.
'There are short sins and long sins. Anger is a
great sin, but does not last long. Covetousness
is a small sin, but endures long and grows. Even
if a man loves his own things strongly, it brings
unhappiness; still more if he strongly desires
what belongs to others. He cannot ascend in the
path of Nirvana — the extinction of desire. There
are five sins especially destructive of what bears
man to Nirvana, and these we reckon worst,
though in immediate effects they may appear
least.' 'But suppose,' I asked, 'a man strongly
desires to go to heaven; is that covetousness?'
'Yes,' said the priest, resting his chin upon the
table and levelling his eyes like arrows at the
head of Christian faith ; 'yes, it is covetousness to
desire paradise strongly. One who goes there
with such desires is as a fly stuck fast in honey.
Paradise is not eternal. One who goes there

AN EASTERN RELIGIOUS ALLEGORY

This symbolical picture, presented to Moncure Conway by a devotee of
the Tain relig^ion in India, is supposed to represent the moral condition of
mankind. A man has fallen into a well full of serpents, and is only saved
from drowning by holding on to the branches of a banyan tree. From a
honeycomb in the tree honey drips down to his lips. So absorbed is he in
the sweetness of the honey that he does not notice the serpents, nor a rat
gnawing the slender limb that he clings to, nor an elephant that will soon
pull the whole tree down. Nor does he regard at all the priest who stands
by, ready to save him if only he is willing.

must die and be born again elsewhere. Only the
desire for Nirvana escapes from the mesh that
entangles all other desires, because it is not de-
sire for any object at all.' I asked: 'Have those
who are in Nirvana any consciousness?' I was
then informed that there is no Sinhalese word for
consciousness. Sumangala said: 'To reach
Nirvana is to be no more.' I pointed to a stone
step and said : 'One is there only as that stone
is here?' 'Not so much,' answered the priest;
'for the stone is actually here, but in Nirvana
there is no existence at all.' "

Passing a temple one day on which were
mural paintings representing monstrous hells
and devils and the torture of human bodies,
Mr. Conway asked a Buddhist scholar how it
was that a religion of mercifulness could thus
menace mortals with supernatural terrors.
The Buddhist replied that it was the great
aim of Buddha to save mankind from those
sufferings. "But who, then," questioned the
writer, "is responsible for the existence of
such tortures in the universe?" "No one is
responsible. These are the eviM of nature,
the conditions of existence, which no god or
demon originated or causes, which not even
the power of Buddha could abolish, but which
he taught us how to escape." Wishing to
know the popular, as distinguished from the
theological, view of this matter, Mr. Conway

2o6

CURRENT LITERATURE

asked an intelligent layman what was his own
view of punishment after death. His reply-
was: "None is ever punished by other than
himself. All the evil that a man does during
life, if not overbalanced by the good he has
done, forms at his death a retributive self of
that man ; an image of himself, unconscious
as a machine, tortures him according to his
demerits."

The truest of all the Eastern religions, in
Mr. Conway's estimation, is Zoroastrianism.
It is based on the principle of dualism, — the
eternal struggle between Ormuzd and Ahri-
man, the Good Mind and the Evil Mind. Or-
muzd, the "Shining One," is not in our mod-
ern sense a god at all. He is rather "a source
of light, trying to inspire men and women to
contend against the forces of darkness ; he asks
for no glorification, claims no majesty; he is
lowly and in pain, and tells Zoroaster that he

is unable to achieve anything except through
the souls of good and wise men and women."
In this connection Mr. Conway writes:

"In India I steadily realized not only that the
true religion was that of Zoroaster, but that fun-
damentally the only practicable religion is the
struggle of Good ag:ainst Evil. That is what
everybody is necessarily doing. Why, then, do I
feel disappointed about these masses of the igno-
rant in India? I suppose that unconsciously I ex-
pected to see the great epics reflected in their
religious festivals instead of sacrificial supersti-
tions. But after all, were not these poor people
struggling against Evil — disease, hunger, death —
in the only way they could? . . . And when
I hesitate about this, and fear that when Evils
are resisted as persons — Satans, Ahrimans —
the resistance is ineffectual, because unscientific,
the overwhelming sense of Fate overwhelms me.
A population of 300,000,000 whose most impera-
tive religious duty is to multiply, must inevitably
act inorganically. It cannot have the free thought
or free agency of an individual."

THE RISE AND FALL OF DOWIEISM

ITH John Alexander Dowie inca-
pacitated, and no longer able to lead
the handful of followers that still re-
main loyal to him, what is to be-
come of that curious addition to the world's
religion, Dowieism? Will the principles
which its founder laid down still be practiced
by those who have rallied around Voliva,
Dowie's former assistant, who led the revolt
against him and brought about his unseating
as the head of Zion City; or will the member-
ship of his church gradually disintegrate and
disappear as a religious body altogether ?

These questions are raised' by a writer in
the New York Sun, and involve a unique
chapter in the history of modern religion. It
is but eleven years since "the Christian Cath-
olic Church in Zion" was organized, and a
much shorter time since Dowie told his fol-
lowers, in a burst of pride, that the "estate of
Zion," which he controlled, was "worth $21,-
000,000 in this city and county alone." Dowie
had world-encircling dreams, and for a while
it looked as if they might be realized. He
established, branches of his church not alone
in this country, but in Australia, in Germany,
in England. He planned a new Jerusalem on
the Nile, a colony in Mexico, a great temple
in Zion City that should be a monument to
the faith. Then came the New York crusade
— and the beginning of the end.
"It was New York, the Relentless City,"

says Henry Underwood, a writer in Harper's
Weekly, "that pricked the Dowie bubble." Mr.
Underwood goes on to recall the salient fea-
tures of those memorable days when Dowie
and all his hosts descended upon New York
and set up their tents — so to speak — in Madi-
son Square Garden. He gives us a vivid pic-
ture of the first meeting of the crusade, at-
tended by tens of thousands, and celebrated
with noble music and solemn processional.
The glamor of the occasion was only dis-
pelled, he avers, by the "harsh, shrill, metallic
voice" and "bullying spirit" of Dowie himself.
To continue the narrative:

"Instead of being cowed the New Yorkers were
bored. Very gently and quietly men and women
arose singly or in little groups in various parts
of the Garden. In the arena alone I estimated
that between eight hundred and a thousand visit-
ors were tiptoeing their way out with great de-
corum. They were too polite to whisper, but
every face expressed the idea : 'Well, is that the
wonderful Dowie? What in the world can any
one see in him?'

"And poor old Dowie, drunk with power, his
judgment drowned by years of adulation, made
at that moment the mistake of his life. His
beady eyes became fiery points that darted the
lightning of his wrath upon the departing ones.

" 'Sit down !' he yelled. 'You must sit down.
You shall not go out.'

"But the people placidly continued on their
way. Dowie roared at them, his voice rising al-
most to a shriek. What was most impressive in
the crowd's demeanor was that they did not even
turn to look over their shoulders at the fat little

RELIGION AND ETHICS

2or;

old man who was hurling billingsgate after them.
They had come to the Garden to see and hear the
Wonderful Dowie. Well, he wasn't wonderful at
all, merely commonplace and abusive. So they
were going as decently as possible out into the
pleasant air and clean sunshine.

" 'Stop those people !' Dowie shouted. 'Captain
of the Zion Guard, I command you not to let one
of them go out!'

"The captain drew up his Zion Guard in a thin
blue line, but the departing New Yorkers were
now in such a great mass that the Guard was
swept away without a struggle. Their captain
ran to Smiling Dick Walsh, the police inspector
in charge.

" 'Stop them !' he panted. 'They musn't go
out.'

" 'Hm!' mused Walsh, as he smiled and stroked
his blue chin. 'If you can show me any statute
they're violating, I'll make arrests. But it isn't
against the law to leave the Garden, you know.*
And the crowd having stopped to listen to the
colloquy, began to laugh, all the more amused be-
cause Dowie was now yelling 'Conspirators!'
'loafers I' 'ruffians !' and unprintable epithets after
them. . . .

"If only Dowie had controlled his temper that
day — who shall say what a chapter he might have
written in the history of marvellous pseudo-re-
ligions !"

The New York expedition cost Dowie
$500,000, and he never recovered from the de-
feat. His subsequent journeys to Mexico,
and, further afield, to Australia and Europe,
were unsuccessful, and were followed by do-
mestic dissension and financial ruin. Zion
City is now in the hands of a receiver, and
has shrunk from a population of 12,000 or
15,000 to less than 4,000. The Rev. Dr. Will-
iam E. Barton, in an article in the Boston
Transcript, collects some interesting first-hand
testimony showing the rapid disintegration of
the city. Voliva's rule, it seems, is not popu-
lar. A former officer in Zion makes the state-
ment: "The present head of the Church is
tyrannous and cruel, carried away by the de-
sire to rule." Another man, still in Zion but
meditating withdrawal, expresses much the
same sentiments. "Voliva resorts to the most
abusive language," he says, "and is a man of
tyrannical spirit. He is also a man of un-
businesslike methods, in whose control the
alTairs of Zion would not be safe." A third
witness, a former elder, who has now turned
his back on Dowieism and is going as a mis-
sionary to China, offers the following comment
on Dowie and Zion City:

"My own opinions have been somewhat in flux.
I recall many happy experiences in the work in
Zion, when we went forth two and two in earnest
work, the like of which I have never known for
earnestness and love. But Dr. Dowie has been
for years a puzzle to me. Whether his nervous
disease is really a case of demoniacal possession

I am not sure. I have often heard him say he
was conscious of another personality affecting
him through a control which he called 'embodi-
ment.' But I wearied of the denunciation, the
pride, the overmastering love of power.

"To succeed widely, the Zion plan of destruc-
tion and reconstruction requires a great prophet
with unmistakable divine authority and marked
common sense, attested by a holy life and mighty
miracles. No such man is in sight. When he
appears we shall consider his message.

"Both the Dowie remnant standing pat and
the Voliva reform party seemed unable to con-
ceive of theocracy except as the lifelong suprem-
acy of one man as ruler over all Christians on
earth. This idea of theocracy is against the
letter and spirit of the New Testament, taken as
a whole; it is against history and the experience
of the best men. . . .

"The wholesale condemnation of all surgery
(dentistry strangely excepted) is not warranted
by a fair review of all the facts. Many, indeed,
are harmed by surgery; many also are helped.
True, it would be better if all would trust God
and be quickly healed in answer to prayer. But
to educate men up to divine healing is a slow
process and is made slower by indiscriminate
denunciation of all surgery.

"The Zion movement originally had noble aims,
and much good was done in earnest rebuke of
evil and in the rescue of many from sin and
sickness. It was a vigorous attempt to restore a
truly Christian and broadly Catholic church. We
pray God to bless all who are led to work in
separate and special movements. But let such
also learn that God is great and good enough to
continue to bless us who conscientiously abandon
separatist movements and prefer to labor in some
larger fellowship."

In the opinion of the Sun writer, already
mentioned, Dowieism "is destined to be added
to the long list of queer religious sects which
have not outlived their founders." He says
further :

"In fact, it is doubted by some persons if the
Christian Catholic Church in Zion, the name
given by Dowie to his organization, will outlast
Dowie. Just at present its members seem to be
more interested in getting back the worldly goods
which they turned over to Dowie than in building
up their Church.

"Dowieism seems to have been centered in its
founder and leader. With their belief in his
divine origin shattered, it would be unusual if his
followers continued to subscribe to any of the
tenets of the Church which he started."

The report that Dowie is now "stretched
helpless in bed, his mind a wreck," is evi-
dently an exaggeration. Dr. Barton speaks
of receiving a letter from Dowie recently, in
which the deposed prophet says that he looks
on the disintegration of Zion City as the
sure sign that in the end he will return to his
own and be received by his people. "If he
had physical strength," comments Dr. Bar-
ton, "his prophecy might come true."

208

CURRENT LITERATURE

A WORSHIPER OF BEAUTY AND OF POWER

NE of the most brilliant of the
younger English essayists, Mr. H.
W. Garrod, of Merton College, Ox-
ford, has lately given us a new
dehnition of religion. "Religion," he says,
"consists of an ardor of devotion which seeks
ever to identify itself with the highest power
and the most perfect beauty." "Power" and
"beauty," he would have us understand, he
interprets in the largest sense, including under
the former term the Satanic, as well as the
Godlike, forces, and under the latter the de-
lights of friendship and travel, as well as of
literature and the arts. And if it be urged
that this is but "a sort of hedonism," he ad-
mits that the charge is true, adding, however,
that it has been good for his own soul, and
may be good for the souls of others.

Let every man ask himself, says Mr. Gar-
rod, in a newly published book of essays,*
what were the first objects to him of natural
and spontaneous worship. "The first and
most natural objects of worship," he thinks
we must all admit, "are persons and places."
He continues:

"Throughout life, in the religion of all men —
whatever their creed^the worship of persons fills,
as all men must know, a large space. The devo-
tion to parents and brethren can never fail to be
a large part of most men's religion. More pas-
sionate still, more religiously intense, is the devo-
tion which we lavish in early youth, upon friends.
Parents and brethren are a kind of divine acci-
dent. Our friends we have ourselves chosen out
from the whole world; nor is the boy who, tho
he dare not confess it even to himself, prefers
his friend to his father, so unnatural as he may
sometimes seem to the laudable jealousy of the
latter. He is finding his religion, or a part of
it. The worship of heroes, tho it be but a boy's
worship, is in some sense a worship of God.
Later comes the passion of love — in the popular
signification of the word:

'Ille mi par esse deo videtur,
Ille, si fas est, superare divos.'

[He seems to me the equal of a god.

Yea, impious though it be, to surpass the gods!]

"I ask in all sincerity, and would desire that
every one should answer to himself in equal sin-
cerity : Did any man ever love God as he has
loved some human beings? Did he ever derive
from the love of God a greater inspiration for all
good things and thoughts than from the love of
some one or other child of earth? Did he never
feel that in the love of some single human being
he was loving God? 'Forasmuch as ye have done

•The Religion of All Good Men. And Other Studies
in Christian Ethics. By H. W. Garrod. Fellow and
Tutor of Merton College, Oxford. McClure, Phillips
& Company.

it unto one of the least of these ye have done it
unto me ?' "

The emotion which attaches us to places is
described as "strong and deep also, tho
slower and more subdued." Many factors
contribute to it. For him "who plows with
pain his native lea" there is a real religion of
the soil. Then again there is the spell of
patriotism, and of scenic splendor. There are
also historic ties, and ties half historic, half
domestic. "Our fathers worshiped in this
mountain." To quote again:

"Other ties of a sort similar, or but little un-
like, need hardly be spoken of. What is the
source of the power of each and all of them I
neither know nor ask to know. But I ask, is there
not religion — not the whole of religion but much
of it — in all of them? And if any man tells me
that he does not worship these things, that it is
not worship that he lavishes on father, father-
land, friend, hills of home, and the fields he played
in, and rocks and streams, — I know that his 'own
heart condemns him'; and the apostle who tells
us that 'God is greater than our hearts' knew
when, and in so far as, he said it, neither the
heart of man nor the mind of God. Let us be
honest, let us not, to escape an empty reproach of
paganism, call those highest devotions and at-
tachments of which we can have experience by
any lower name than that of worship. Neither
let us be afraid of making too strong these earthly
ties. What we cannot but worship, that we
should."

Religion, however, is much more than
worship of persons and of places. These
words but open up the way to larger horizons ;
and behind them both is "a whole world of
mystery." Mr. Garrod recalls for us one
place — the Brocken; and one person upon it —
the person of Goethe. Goethe was not what
the world would call a religious man, but
when he stood for the first time upon the
Brocken height his emotions found their
natural expression in the words of the Psalm-
ist of Israel, "Lord, what is man, that thou
art mindful of him? or the son of man, that
thou takest account of him?" and "the words
he used," says Mr. Garrod, "gave expression
to the sense which must be always with every
man at all times when he reflects, the sense
that he is ever in the presence of an infinite
power imperfectly known." Then follows the
argument :

"We are all of us worshipers of power — of
mere and sheer power. We are too apt to sup-
pose that worship is worship of the good. We
have learned, indeed, that that is not so with the
worship of savaee or primitive races. Nor is it
so, I believe, with a large part of the worship of

RELIGION AND ETHICS

209.

the so-called higher races. The darling of man,
like that of nature, is still the strongest. I would
even say that man is, must, and should be, largely
a 'devil worshiper.' That, with regard to persons,
the highest passion and devotion is often and
knowingly lavished on objects the least worthy
of it, is a commonplace. The Corsair of Byron
had the love of a good woman, and it is the
same with all Corsairs and the like of Corsairs.
Nothing commands such devotion as power, and
the devotion is legitimate. Goodness must stand
in the cold disconsolate; and it is only loved
when it is seen to be a higher power than mere
power. Similarly in nature. The storm, the
cataract, the av.lanche, the earthquake, the ter-
rors of deep«Qnd height — all these instruments of
Satan are in greater or less degree worshiped by
all men. They are worshiped because they are
power. There is in this worship, as in all devo-
tion, an odi et amo: therein lies the romance of
it all. 'Love thou the gods by withstanding them,'
says Sigurd the Volsung, and I could almost
think it the last word in religion."

Mr. Garrod goes on to speak o£ the worship
of beauty. "To some extent," he thinks,
"beauty and power are interchangeable
terms;" at least "it is certain that the order
and harmony which are a part of beauty are
a symbol of power." All human experience
recognizes that a sensibility to the appeal of
beauty should be recognized as inherent in the
nature of religion. In this connection Mr.
Garrod writes:

"We speak of the 'beauty of holiness,' and in-
tend in so speaking to pay to holiness the highest

compliment in our power. The Greeks again,
made a practical identification of the beautiful
and the good. And poets and philosophers alike
have identified the beautiful and the true. I
would ask, also, Among the many emotions of
life, which are those which, recognizing them to
have been of the highest purity and excellence,
we would most gladly recall? Sunset over the
sea, a picture of Raphael, the cathedral of Milan
first seen by moonlight — are not these and their
like the kind of experiences in which we have
seemed to ourselves to draw nearest to the best
that life can offer in the way of emotion ? Was
there not religion in these?"

All this should not carry us so far from
Christianity, says Mr. Garrod, in concluding.
He adds:

"I pity the man for whom the services of the
Church in which he was brought up have lost
altogether their appeal. I pity the man to whom
God is no longer a Father, though I hold no
brief for Theism. I pity the man to whom the
best of men is not still a Son of God. It is well
that the imagination should dwell in these meta-
phors, though they may be but metaphors. Of
the existence of a 'supernatural' God I think
much what John Stuart Mill thinks: 1/ is a pos-
sibility. I say only that we cannot worship a
possibility. A possible God is a possible, and
therefore not an actual, object of worship. None
the less I feel no difficulty, I will not even admit
any inconsistency, in regarding that variety of
emotions which I call religious as a service to
God the Father. I am myself a part of, a child
of, that ever mysterious Power and Beauty which
seem to me to be the real objects of all worship."

A NEW KIND OF IMMORALITY

:ELANDIC mythology tells how the
god Thor, when visiting the Giants
one day, was challenged to lift a
certain gray cat. "Our young men,"
they said, "think it nothing but play." Thor
strained and strained, but could only succeed
in lifting one of the creature's feet. The por-
tent was so mysterious that he asked its
meaning. "The cat— ah! we were terror-
stricken when we saw one paw ofif the floor,"
replied the Giants, "for that is the Midgard
serpent which, tail in mouth, girds and keeps
up the created world."

This anecdote serves as a text for an article
in the January Atlantic, in which Prof. Ed-
ward Alsworth Ross, of the University of
Nebraska, endeavors to make us feel that new
and subtle sins, as unyielding as the gray cat,
are undermining our social fabric. He writes :

"How often to-day the prosecutor who tries to
lay by the heels some notorious public enemy is
baffled by a mysterious resistance! The thews

of Justice become as water; her sword turns to
lath. Though the machinery of the law is
strained askew, the evildoer remains erect, smil-
ing, unscathed. At the end, the mortified cham-
pion of the law may be given to understand that
like Thor he was contending with the established
order; that he had unwittingly laid hold on a
pillar of society, and was therefore pitting him-
self against the reigning organization in local
finance and politics."

The real weakness in the moral position
of Americans, continues Professor Ross, is
not their attitude toward the plain criminal,
but their attitude toward the quasi-criminal.
And this attitude, he declares, is due not to
sycophancy, but to perplexity. According to
his viewpoint, we simply do not recognize the
new sins as yet. To quote further:

"The immunity enjoyed by the perpetrator of
new sins has brought into being a class for which
we may coin the term criminaloid (like asteroid,
crystalloid, anthropoid, etc. Criminaloid is Latin-
Greek, to be sure, but so is sociology). By this
we designate such as prosper by flagitious prac-

210

CURRENT LITERATURE

tices which have not yet come under the efifective
ban of public opinion. Often, indeed, they are
guilty in the eyes of the law; but since they are
not culpable in the eyes of the public and in their
own eyes, their spiritual attitude is not that of the
criminals. The lawmakers may make their mis-
deeds crime, but, so long as morality stands stock-
still in the old tracks, they escape both punish-
ment and ignominy. Unlike their low-browed
cousins, they occupy the cabin rather than the
steerage of society. Relentless pursuit hems in
the criminals, narrows their range of success, de-
nies them influence. The criminaloids, on the
other hand, encounter but feeble opposition, and,
since their practices are often more lucrative than
the authentic crimes, they distance their more
scrupulous rivals in business and politics and reap
an uncommon worldly prosperity."

The key to the criminaloid, w^e are next in-
formed, is not evil impulse, but moral insen-
sibility. The director who speculates in the
securities of his corporation, the banker who
lends his depositors' money to himself under
divers corporate aliases, the railroad official
who grants a secret rebate for his private
graft, the builder who hires walking delegates
to harass his rivals with causeless strikes, the
labor leader who instigates a strike in order
to be paid for calling it off, the publisher who
bribes his textbooks into the schools — these,
says Profesor Ross, "reveal in their faces
nothing of wolf or vulture. . . . They are
not degenerates, tormented by monstrous crav-
ings. They want nothing more than we all
want — money, power, consideration — in a
word, success; but they are in a hurry, and
they are not particular as to the means." The
criminaloid may often be a very good man,
judged by the old standards. Most probably
he keeps his marriage vows, pays his debts,
stands by his friends, and has contracted a
kind of public spirit. "He is unevenly moral :
oak in the family and clan virtues, but bass-
wood in commercial and civic ethics." Of
this type was Tweed, the Tammany boss, who
had a "good heart," donated $50,000 to the
poor of New York, and was sincerely loved
by his clan. To quote again:

"It is now clear why hot controversy rages
about the unmasked criminaloid. His home town,
political clan, or social class, insists that he is a
good man maligned, that his detractors are pur-
blind or jealous. The criminaloid is really a
borderer between the camps of good and evil,
and this is why he is so interesting. To run him
to earth and brand him, as long ago pirate and
traitor were branded, is the crying need of our
time. For this Anak among malefactors, work-
ing unchecked in the rich field of sinister oppor-
tunities opened up by latter-day conditions, is
society's most dangerous foe, more redoubtable
by far than the plain criminal, because he sports
the livery of virtue and operates on a Titanic
scale. Every year that sees him pursue in insolent

triumph his nefarious career raises up a host of
imitators and hurries society toward moral bank-
ruptcy."

The plain criminal, we are reminded, can
do himself no good by appealing to his "pals,"
for they have no social standing. The crim-
inaloid, however, is shrewd enough to ally
himself with some legitimate group, and when
he is in trouble looks to his group to protect
its own. Hiding behind the judicial dictum
that "bribery is merely a conventional crime,"
boodlers denounce their indicter as "blacken-
ing the fair fame of his State.'' The law-
breaking saloon-keeper identifies the interests
of merchants with his by declaring that en-
forcement of the liquor laws "hurts business."
When a pious fraud is unmasked, his pastor
will declare: "Brother Barabbas is a loyal
and generous member of our denomination.
This vicious attack upon him is, therefore, a
covert thrust at the church, and should be
resented as such." High finance, coming to
the defense of self-confessed thieves, will as-
sert that it is "un-American" for an aveng-
ing public to "gloat over" the disgraces of
the dethroned. In this connection Professor
Ross writes:

"Here twangs the ultimate chord! For in
criminaloid philosophy it is 'un-American' to
wrench patronage from the hands of spoilsmen,
'un-American' to deal Federal justice to rascals
of state importance, 'un-American' to pry into ar-
rangements between shipper and carrier, 'un-
American' to fry the truth out of reluctant mag-
nates."

It is of little use, as Professor Ross points
out, to bring law abreast of the time if mo-
rality lags.

"By the time new sins have been branded, the
onward movement of society has created a fresh
lot of opportunities, which are, in their turn, ex-
ploited with impunity. It is in this gap that the
criminaloid disports himself. The narrowing of
this gap depends chiefly on the faithfulness of the
vedettes that guard the march of humanity. If
the editor, writer, educator, clergyman, or public
man is zealous to reconnoitre and instant to cry
aloud the dangers that present themselves in our
tumultuous social advance, a regulative opinion
quickly forms and the new sins soon become
odious.

"Now it is the concern of the criminaloids to
delay this growth of conscience by silencing the
alert vedettes. To intimidate the moulders of
opinion so as to confine the editor to the 'news,'
the preacher to the 'simple Gospel,' the public man
to the 'party issues,' the judge to his precedents,
the teacher to his text-books, and the writer to
the classic themes — such are the tactics of the
criminaloids. Let them but have their way, and
the prophet's message, the sage's lesson, the
scholar's quest, and the poet's dream would be
sacrificed to the God of Things as They Were."

Science and Discovery

WHY THE DWELLERS ON MARS DO NOT MAKE WAR

A.RS is inhabited by beings of some
sort or other. So much is affirmed
by that famous astronomer, Profes-
sor Percival Lowell, director of
the observatory at Flagstaff, Ariz. This
renowned authority likens the theory of
the existence of intelligent life on Mars to
the atomic theory in chemistry. Both theories
lead to belief in units that cannot be defined.
Both theories explain the facts in their re-
spective fields, and they are the only theories
that do so. "As to what an atom may re-
semble we know as little as what a Martian
may be like. But the behavior of chemical com-
pounds points to the existence of atoms too
small for us to see, and in the same way the
aspect and behavior of the Martian markings
implies the action of agents too far away to
be made out." So contends Professor Lowell
in the new volume* setting forth the results
he has arrived at after many years' practical
observatory work devoted to Mars.

•Mars and Its Canals. By Percival Lowell.
The Macmillan Company.

Illustrated.

Girdling the globe of those who dwell on
Mars and stretching from pole to pole, the
Martian canal system, insists Professor
Lowell (going farther on this point than any
authority has yet done), not only embraces
the whole planet, but is "an organized entity."
Each canal joins another. There is in turn a
connection with yet another and so on over
the entire surface of the planet. This continu-
ity of construction indicates "a community of
interest." Mars is 4,200 miles in diameter.
The unity of the canal system of Mars thus
acquires considerable significance. The most
gigantic work of human hands on earth seems
petty in comparison.

The first deduction drawn by Professor
Lowell in summing up the theory of the habit-
ability of Mars is the "necessarily intelligent
and non-bellicose character" of the community
which thus co-operates over the entire surface
of the planet. "War is a survival among us
from savage times and affects now chiefly the
boyish and unthinking element of the nation."
The wise understand that there are better

MAP OF MARS ON MERCATOR'S PROJECTION
To the large spots, those of the first class, fall the places of intersection of the largest and most numerous
canals, while the little spots make termini to fainter lines, ones that bear to them a like ratio of unimportance.
Spots and lines are thus connected not simply in position but in size. The one is clearly dependent on the other,
the importance of the center being gauged by the magnitude of its communications. This chart of Mars is one
of the latest made, dating some eighteen months back and newly published by Professor Lowell s permission.

212

CURRENT LITERATURE

ways than battle affords of displaying hero-
ism, other and more certain means of insur-
ing the survival of the fittest. War is a thing
that a nation outgrow^s. But whether
they consciously practice peace or not, nature
in the course of evolution practices peace for
a race. After enough of the inhabitants of a
globe have killed each other off, those who
are left must find it to their advantage to
work together for the common good. Profes-
sor Lowell adds:

"Whether increasing common sense or increas-
ing necessity was the spur that drove the Mar-
tians to this eminently sagacious state we cannot
say, but it is certain that reached it they have,
and equally certain that if they had not they
must die. When a planet has attained to the age
of advancing decrepitude, and the remnant of
its water supply resides simply in its polar caps,
these can only be effectively tapped for the bene-
fit of the inhabitants when arctic and equatorial
peoples are at one. Difference of policy on the
question of the all-important water supply means
nothing short of death. Isolated communities
cannot there be sufficient unto themselves ; they
must combine to solidarity or perish.

"From the fact, therefore, that the reticulated
canal system is an elaborate entity embracing the
whole planet from one pole to the other, we have
not only proof of the world-wide sagacity of its
builders, but a very suggestive side-light, to the
fact that only a universal necessity such as water
could well be its underlying cause.

"Possessed of important bearing upon the pos-
sibility of life on Mars is the rather recent ap-
preciation that the habitat of both plants and
animals is conditioned not by the minimum nor
by the mean temperature of the locality, but by
the maximum heat attained in the region. Not
only is the minimum thermometric point no de-
terminator of a dead-line, but even a mean tem-
perature does not measure organic capability.
The reason for this is that the continuance of
the species seems to depend solely upon the pos-
sibility of reproduction, and this in turn upon a
suitable temperature at the critical period of the
plant's or animal's career."

This last point calls for a word of ampli-
fication. Contrary to previous ideas on the
subject, the dependence of reproduction upon
temperature was established in the case of the
fauna of the San Francisco peak region in
northern Arizona. The region was peculiarly
fitted for a test because of its rising as a
boreal island of life out of a sub-tropic sea of
desert. It thus reproduced along its flanks
the conditions of climates farther north, alti-
tude taking the part of latitude, one succeed-
ing another until at the top stood the arctic
zone. It has been conclusively shown that the
existence of life there was dependent solely
upon a sufficiency of warmth at the breeding
season. If that were enough, the animal or
plant propagated its kind and held its foothold

against adverse conditions during the rest of
the year. This it did by living during its brief
summer and then going into hibernation the
balance of the time. Nature, in a word, sus-
pended her functions to a large extent for
months together, enabling her to effect a
resurrection when the conditions changed.

Thus hibernation proves to be a trait ac-
quired by the organism in consequence of cli-
matic conditions. Like all such, it can be
developed only in time, since nature is in-
capable of abrupt transition. An animal sud-
denly transported from the tropic to a sub-
tropic zone will perish. It has not had time
to learn the "trick" of sleeping out a winter.
"While still characterized by seasonal insom-
nia, it is incapable of storing its energies and
biding its time." Given leisure to acquire the
art, the ensuing existence depends upon the
supply of heat in sufficient store to permit the
vital possibility of reproducing its kind.

Diurnal shutting off of the supply of heat
affects the process but little, says Professor
Lowell. But a fall in temperature must not
be to below the freezing point at the hottest
season. So much is shown by the fauna of
our arctic and sub-arctic zones, and, with
even more pertinence as regards Mars, by the
zones of the San Francisco Peak region, since
the thinner air of the great altitude — through
which a greater amount of heat can radiate
off — is there substituted for the thicker one
of different regions. We quote again :

"Now, with Mars the state of things is com-
pletely in accord with what is thus demanded
for the existence of life. The Martian climate
is one of extremes, where considerable heat
treads on the heels of great cold. And the one
of these conditions is as certain as the other, as
the condition of the planet's surface shows con-
clusively. In summer and during the day it
must be decidedly hot, certainly well above any
possible freezing, a thinner air blanket actually
increasing the amount of heat that reaches the
surface, though affecting the length of time of
its retention unfavorably. The maximum tem-
perature, therefore, cannot be low. The mini-
mum, of course is. But it is the maximum that
regulates the possibility of life. In spite, there-
fore, of a winter probably longer and colder than
our own, organic life is not in the least debarred
from finding itself there."

Indeed, affirms Professor Lowell, the con-
ditions appear to be such as to put a premium
upon life of a high order. The Martian year
being twice as long as our own, the summer
is there proportionately extended. Even in
the southern hemisphere, the one in which the
summer is briefest, it lasts for 158 days, while
at the same latitudes our own is but 90 days.
This lengthening of the period of reproduc-

Photograph by Van der Weyde, Mew York

THE HIGHEST LIVING AUTHORITY ON THE SUBJECT OF MARS

Professor Percival Lowell has spent many years in careful study of the so-called Martian canals. He is looked
upon as America's most eminent living astronomer. So valuable to science have been the results of his researches
in connection with the habitability of the planet Mars that be was awarded the Janssen medal by the French As-
tronomical Society.

214

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE CAUSE OF PEACE ON MARS

This picture of the north polar cap of the planet was made under Pro-
fessor Lowell's supervision at Lowell Observatory some eighteen months
ago, but has only recently been published. The sharpness of outline here
shown is not so distinct as the telescope presents, but a vivid idea of the
artificiality of the markings is afforded.

tion cannot but have an elevating effect upon
the organism akin to the prolongation of
childhood pointed out by John Fiske as play-
ing so important a part in the evolution of
the highest animals. Day and night, on the
other hand, alternate there with approxi-
mately the same speed as here, and except for
what is due to a thinner air covering repro-
duce our own terrestrial diurnal conditions,
which as we saw are not inimical to life.

In this respect, then, Mars proves to be
by no means so bad a habitat. It offers an-
other example of how increasing knowledge
widens the domain that life may occupy. Just
as we have now found organic existence in
abysmal depths of sea and in excessive de-
grees of both heat and cold, so do we find
from exploration of our island mountains,
which more than any other locality on earth
reproduce the Martian surface, its presence
there as well. In an aging world, again, where
the conditions of life have grown more dif-
ficult, mentality must characterize more and
more its beings in order for them to survive,
and it would, in consequence, tend to be
evolved. To find, therefore, upon Mars high-

ly intelligent life is what the
planet's state would lead one
to expect.

The next step leads to
Professor Lowell's contention
that the inhabitants of Mars
cannot indulge in the practice
of war at any spot on their
globe. The compelling motive
has to do with the necessity for
husbanding water. Dearth of
water is the key to the charac-
ter of the canals of Mars.
Water is very scarce on this
far-off planet. So far as we
can see, the only available
water comes from the semi-
annual melting at one or the
other cap of the snow accumu-
lated there during the previous
winter. Beyond this, there is
none except for what may be
present in the air. Now, water
is absolutely essential to all
forms of life. No organisms
can exist without it:

"But, as a planet ages, it loses
its oceans, as has before been ex-
plained, and gradually its whole
water supply. Life upon its sur-
face is confronted by a growing
scarcity of this essential to exist-
ence. For its fauna to survive it
must utilize all it can get. To this end it would be
obliged to put forth its chief endeavors, and the
outcome of such work would result in a deforma-
tion of the disk indicative of its presence. Lines of
communication for water purposes, between the
polar caps, on the one hand, and the centers of
population, on the other, would be the artificial
markings we should expect to perceive. . . .

"It is, then, a system whose end and aim is the
tapping of the snow-cap for the water there
semi-annually let loose; then to distribute it over
the planet's face.

"Function of this very sort is evidenced by the
look of the canals. Further study during the
last eleven years as to their behavior leads to a
like conclusion, while at the same time it goes
much farther by revealing the action in the case."
The action in the case is the result of co-
operation among all the inhabitants. This is
the distinctive feature of life on Mars. All
the beings on that planet must combine in a
far more effective way for existence than con-
ditions on earth necessitate. A war on Mars
having anything like the aspects of those san-
guinary conflicts of which the earth's history
is so full would terminate the career of the
Martians as effectively as the ravages of the
Punic wars led to the destruction of Carthage.
Irrigation on Mars is existence.

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

DISCOVERY OF A SUPPOSED PRIMITIVE RACE OF

MEN IN NEBRASKA

215

N extremely low, receding forehead
and high projections of bones just
above the eyes drew the attention
of Dr. Henry Fairfield Osborn to
the craniums discovered in Nebraska last
July by Mr. Robert Fletcher Gilder. Dr.
Osborn is Da Costa professor of Zoology in
Columbia University, and he has distinguished
himself in that school of anthropology which
teaches that man reached America at a very
early period. Yet no direct evidence that
man did, in fact, reach our shores before
a comparatively late stage in his development
presented itself until the recent "find" in
Nebraska of crania or skulls in the Missouri
Valley near Omaha.

Dr. Osborn was impelled to conclude that
these skulls, so far as photographs could in-
dicate, had no Indian characteristics. He
made a trip to Omaha, with the acquiescence
of the authorities of the University of Ne-
braska, to which institution the "find" had
been made over by Mr. Gilder. Altogether,
Mr. Gilder had recovered parts of six skulls.
Two of them, as Dr. Osborn relates in an
article in The Century, from which maga-
zine these details are borrowed, were of the
modern Indian type. But the other four
were of a more primitive type. Dr. Osborn
separated the skulls into two lots. The two
skulls having the larger brain cavities were
found nearer the surface in a superficial
layer. Beneath this layer was a stratum of
ashes. Beneath the ashes was a deep and ex-
tensive layer of silt. The layer of silt had
been compacted and hardened by the fire
above. Beneath this earth the second lot of
skulls was found. With these crania occurred
other parts of skeletons. The only semblance
of an implement was a small, broken, tri-
angular flint knife.

Now, the comparisons which Dr. Osborn
institutes between these Nebraska skulls and
early cranial types in Europe — the three links
in the chain of human ancestry — prove that
the recent "find" tends to increase rather
than diminish the probability of the early ad-
vent of man in America. The world has
been afiforded within a year, in other words,
and within the limits of the United States, a
glimpse into the ancestry of man that puts a
new face upon anthropology. To quote from
The Century:

"Virtually three links have been found in the
chain of human ancestry. The earliest is repre-

sented by the Trinil man of Java, the discovery
of which by DuBois, in 1890, aroused the widest
interest. This pre-human species is known as
Pithecanthropus erectus, in reference to its inter-
mediate position between man and the anthropoid
apes, and to its certainly erect carriage. In type
it stands midway between the chimpanzee, which
is the highest of the anthropoid apes, and the
'Neanderthal man,' or Homo primigenius, which
constitutes the next higher link in human develop-
ment. The German anatomist Schwalbe says that
in its general structure it resembles the skull of
the highest apes and most closely that of the
chimpanzee, but in its details is unlike them all. . .
"The second great human type of Europe is the
Homo primigenius, or 'Neanderthal man,' the top
of a skull found, in 1856, in a cave in the valley
of the Neander, near Diisseldorf. Schaafhausen's
detailed description of this Neanderthal man as
extremely primitive aroused specially the adverse
view of Virchow that the skull was abnormal or
pathological. . . . All doubts as to the normal
character of this cranium were entirely removed
through the discovery, in 1886, by Fraipont and
Lohest, in a cave near Spy in Belgium, of the
skulls and skeletons of two persons, which in all
essential points agree in character with the Nean-
derthal type. These skeletons are known as the

From Putnam's MoHthly

CONTOURS OF SKULLS OF PREHISTORIC MEN

The Nebraska specimen indicates that it is of a re-
moter antiquity than either of the others, although the
others are affirmed by anthropologists to date back to the
period when mastodons were common. The Nebraska
man whose skull is here contoured was undoubtedly a
primitive type of mound builder.

2l6

CURRENT LITERATURE

RECONSTRUCTION OF THE HEAD OF THE
NEANDERTHAL MAN BY CHARLES R.
KNIGHT UNDER THE DIRECTION
OF PROFESSOR OSBORN

"I have endeavored to depict the facial characters of
the Paleolithic men of Neanderthal, Spy, and Krapina as
I can conceive them, with the skilful aid of Mr. Charles
R. Knight, the well-known animal painter," writes Pro-
fessor Osborn in The Centurv. from which this_ picture is
copied. "It appears to me that the superior individuals
of this race must have exhibited a resolute and deter-
mined type characterized by alertness and considerable
intelligence."

men of Spy. They enable us to reconstruct the
entire head and the framework of the limbs of
the men of Spy. Still another discovery, in a
cave near Krapina in Croatia, of the Neanderthal
man, \<r& owe to Gorganowic-Kramberger. In
this cave were found also bones of many extinct
animals, and these men of Krapina are even
somewhat more primitive than those of the first
Neanderthal discovery.

i "The period of this Neanderthal man is that
known as Moustierien, or, in the middle of the
Paleolithic Age. On this all the authorities
agree. . . .

"To return to the recent discovery in Nebraska,
the comparisons which we are able to make now
prove that this cranium is of a more recent type
by far than that of the Neanderthal man. It may
prove to be of more recent type even than that
tvoified by the early Neolithic man of Europe.
Even if not of great antiquity it is certainly of
very primitive type and tends to increase rather
than diminish the probability of the early advent
of man in America."

American anthropologists are divided into
two schools of opinion on the question of the
time of the appearance of man in America.
There are those who believe that man
reached America at a very early period, and
among those who so contend is Professor
Osborn. Other anthropologists believe that
man first reached America in a late stage of
development as compared with his history in
Europe. The supreme importance of the

Nebraska discovery becomes evident. As
Professor Osborn writes:

"During the early Pleistocene period, when we
begin to find the first positive evidence of man in
Europe, America, Asia, and Europe still formed
one great continent, with a temperate climate in
the northern portions, because the broad land ridge
between America and Asia shut out the Arctic
current, and the northern Pacific region was fa-
vored by what is now known as the Japanese
current. In this period there culminated the
great interchange of mammalian life between
America, Europe, and Asia; America contrib-
uting to Europe its horses and camels, while
Europe and Asia contributed to North America
virtually all of the large existing fauna _ at the
present time. But for this great contribution.
North America would to-day be virtually barren,
because the only quadruped of any considerable
size, indigenous to North America, which sur-
vived the Glacial period is the prong-horn ante-
lope. Europe sent us elephants and mammoths,
which have become extinct, as well as all the
great quadrupeds which still survive, as our
moose, caribou, wapiti or true deer, Virginia deer,
and, also, among Carnivora, the bear and the wolf.

"The primitive, or Paleolithic, man of Europe
was a hunter. The earliest objects of human
manufacture known are not utensils for the prep-
aration of food, but weapons, of flint and stone,
for the killing of game; the earliest works of art
are representations of game animals, some of
them of considerable artistic merit. There is no
a priori reason why these Paleolithic hunters
should not have followed the game in its exodus
from Europe and Asia into North America ; there
is, on the contrary, much reason to believe that
the older parts of Europe were already thickly
populated, that there was considerable competi-
tion between different races of men in the chase.
That hunting was carried on on a vast scale is
proved by the enormous numbers of bones which
were piled about some of the ancient hunting
camps. For example, one of the bone heaps of
the Solutreen period is estimated to include the
remains of over 80,000 horses.

"Is it not a priori probable that man followed
them, and crossed the great land ridge?"

From The Century Magazine

COMPARISON OF THE PROFILES OF THE
SKULLS OF PRIMITIVE MEN

A, skull found in the upper layer of the Nebraska
mound. B, skull found in the lower layer of the Ne-
braska mound. C, the Neanderthal skull. D, brow or
supra-orbital ridges. E, the orbits.

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

217

PLEASURES AND PAINS OF THE BACTERIA AND
OTHER LOWER ORGANISMS

jROF. H. S. JENNINGS, assistant
in the chair of zoology in
the University of Pennsylvania,
was observing the behavior of an
amceba moving towards a Euglena cyst. The
amoeba is a shapeless bit of jelly-like proto-
plasm, continually changing as it moves about
at the bottom of a pool amid the remains of
decayed vegetation. From the main proto-
plasmic mass there are sent out, usually in
the direction of locomotion, a number of lobe-
like or pointed projections, the pseudopodia.
These are withdrawn at intervals and replaced
by others. The Euglena cyst — Euglena is an
organism — is sufficiently defined for the pres-
ent purpose as a round mass floating in the
environment of the amoeba, the prey of the
latter.

When the anterior edge of the amoeba came
in contact with it, the cyst rolled forward a
little and slipped to the left. The amoeba
followed. When it reached the cyst again, the
latter was again pushed forward and to the
left. The amoeba continued to follow. This
process was continued till the two had trav-
ersed about one-fourth the circumference of
a circle. Then the cyst, when pushed for-
ward, rolled to the left, quite out of contact
with the animal. The latter then continued
straight forward, with broad anterior edge, in
a direction which would have taken it straight
away from the food. But a small pseudopodium
on the left side came in contact with the cyst,
whereupon the amoeba turned and again ifol-
lowed the rolling ball. At times the animal
sent out two pseudopodia, one on each side of
the cyst, as if trying to enclose the latter, but
the spherical cyst rolled so easily that this did
not succeed. At other times a single, long,
slender pseudopodium was sent out, only its
tip remaining in contact with the cyst. Then
the body was brought up from the rear and
the food pushed farther. Thus the chase con-
tinued until the rolling cyst and the following
amoeba had described almost a complete circle,
returning nearly to the point where the amoe-
ba had first come in contact with the cyst. At
this point the cyst rolled to the right as it
was pushed forward. The amoeba followed.
This new path was continued for some time.
The direction in which the ball was rolling
would soon have brought it against an obsta-

cle, so that it seemed probable that the amoeba
would finally secure it. But at this point, af-
ter the chase had lasted ten or fifteen minutes,
the ball was whisked away by one of those
unicellular organisms known as infusoria.

Such behavior on the part of an amoeba
makes a striking impression on the observer,
notes Professor Jennings in his elaborate work
on the behavior of these low forms of life.*

For everywhere in the study of life pro-
cesses we meet the puzzle of regulation. Or-
ganisms do those things that advance their
welfare. If the environment changes, the or-
ganism changes to meet the new conditions.
If the mammal is heated from without, it
cools from within. If it is cooled from with-
out, it heats from within. It maintains the
temperature that is to its advantage. The
dog which is fed starchy diet produces di-
gestive juices rich in enzymes that digest
starch. While upon a diet of meat it produces
juices rich in proteid-digesting substances.
When a poison is injected into a mouse, the
mouse produces substances which neutralize
this poison. But how can the organism thus
provide for its own needs? To put the ques-
tion in the popular form, how does it know
what to do when difficulty arises? It seems
to work towards a definite purpose. In other
words, the final result of its action seems to
be present in some way at the beginning, de-
termining what the action shall be. In this the
action of living things seems to contrast with
that of things inorganic. It is regulation of
this character that has given rise to theories
of vitalism. The principles controlling the
life-processes are held by these theories to be
of a character essentially different from any-
thing found in the inorganic world. This view
has found recent expression in the works of a
German scientist.

To return to the case of the amoeba. This
jelly-like mass of protoplasm sometimes finds
itself in an extremely inconvenient position.
Sometimes an amoeba is left suspended in the
water, not in contact with anything solid. Un-
der such circumstances, the animal is as nearly
completely unstimulated as it is possible for
an amoeba to be. It is in contact only with
the water and that uniformly on all sides. But

•Behavior of the Lower Organisms.
nin^s. Columbia University Press.

By H. S. Jea-

2l8

CURRENT LITERATURE

such a condition is most unfavorable for its
normal activities. It can not move from place
to place and has no opportunity to obtain food.
Amoeba has a method of behavior by v^rhich
it meets these unfavorable conditions. It
usually sends out long slender pseudopodia in
all directions. The body of the animal may
become reduced to little more than a meeting
point for all the§e pseudopodia. It is evident
that the sending out of these long arms greatly
increases the chances of coming in contact
vv^ith a solid body, and it is equally evident that
contact with a solid is under the circumstances

'Hi-

i S

■"• ,.

•• ' " ; •■

J£

3 t

> /

• I

Distribution of bacteria in a microscopic spectrum.
The largest group is in the ultra-red, to the left; the
next largest group in the yellow-orange, close to the
line D.

exactly what will be most advantageous to the
animal. As soon as the tip of one of the
pseudopodia does come in contact with some-
thing solid, the behavior changes. The tip of
the pseudopodium spreads out on the surface
of the solid and clings to it. Currents of
protoplasm begin to flow in the direction of
the attached tip. The other pseudopodia are
slowly withdrawn into the body, while the
body itself passes to the surface of the solid.
After a short time the amoeba which had been
composed merely of a number of long arms
radiating in all directions from a center, has
formed a collected flat mass, creeping along
a surface in the usual way. This entire re-
action seems a remarkable one in its adaptive-
ness to the peculiar circumstances under which
the organism has been placed.

We now come to bacteria, which are per-
haps the lowest organisms having a definite
form and special organs for locomotion. In
these characteristics they are less simple than
the amoeba, and resemble higher animals,
tho in other ways the bacteria are among
the simplest of organisms. Bacteria are minute
organisms living in immense numbers in de-
caying organic matter and found in smaller
numbers almost everywhere. They have char-
acteristic definite forms. Some are straight
cylindrical rods. Some are curved rods. Some
are spiral in form. Others are spherical, oval
or of other shapes. The individuals are often
united together in chains. It is superfluous

for the present purpose to draw distinctions be-
tween disease-producing bacteria of various
kinds — bacilli of typhus, diphtheria bacillus
and the like. Bacteria are here viewed col-
lectively. The purpose is merely to indicate
their capacity to profit by their experience.

While some bacteria are quiet, others — we
follow Professor Jennings, of course — move
about rapidly. The movements are produced
by the swinging of whip-like protoplasmic
processes known as the flagella or cilia. The
flagella may be borne singly or in numbers at
one end of the body, or may be scattered over
the entire surface.

In most bacteria we can distinguish a per-
manent longitudinal axis and along this axis
movement takes place. Thus both the form
and, in correspondence with it, the movement,
are more definite than amoeba. If the bac-
terium is quiet, we can predict that when it
moves it will move in the direction of this
axis. For amoeba, such a prediction can not
be made. In some bacteria the two ends are
similar and movement may take place in either
direction. In others the two ends dififer, one
bearing flagella while the other does not.

The movements of the bacteria are not un-
ordered. They are of such a character as to
bring about certain general results, some of
which at least are conductive to the welfare of

Repulsion of Bacteria by Chemicals

A, repulsion of one form of bacteria by malic acid
diffusing from a capillary tube. B, repulsion of an-
other form of bacteria by crystals, a, condition imme-
diately after adding the crystals, b and c, later stages
in the reaction.

the organism. If a bacterium swimming in a
certain direction comes against a solid object,
it does not remain obstinately pressing its an-
terior end against the object, but moves in
some other direction. If some strong chemical
is diffusing in a certain region, the bacteria
keep out of this region. They often collect
about bubbles of air and about masses of de-
caying animal or plant material. Often they

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

219

gather about small green plants, and in some
cases a large number of bacteria gather to
form a well-defined group without evident ex-
ternal cause.

How are such results brought about?

The behavior of bacteria under any form
of stimulation to which they may be subjected
depends on the nature of the normal life proc-
esses. Bacteria that require oxygen in their
process of assimilation collect in

water containing oxygen, displaying .

discrimination in their choice of en-
vironment when an alternative is
afforded. Bacteria to which oxygen
is useless or harmful avoid oxygen.
Bacteria that use hydrogen sulphide
in their life processes gather in that
substance. Bacteria that require
light for the proper performance of
the assimilative process of their ex-
istence gather in light. Others do
not. When one color is more favor-
able than others to the life processes,
the bacteria gather in that color even
though — strange as this may seem —
they may under natural conditions
have had no previous acquaintance
with separated spectral colors.

Keeping in mind that all these
gatherings are formed through the
fact that the organisms reverse their move-
ment at passing out of the favorable condi

entiated character, and acted under similar
conscious states in way parallel to man ? Pro-
fessor Jennings is thoroughly convinced, after
long study of this organism, that if the amoeba
were a large animal, so as to come within
the every-day experience of human beings, its
behavior would at once call forth the attri-
bution to it of states of pleasure and pain, of
hunger, desire and the like.

Method by which a floating amoeba passes to a solid.

tions, these relations can be summed up as
follows: Behavior that results in interference
with the normal processes is change-!, tic
mpvement being reversed, while behavior that
does not result in interference or that favors
the processes is continued.

Why do the bacteria choose certain condi-
tions and reject others? This selection of the
favorable conditions and rejection of the un-
favorable ones presented by the movements is
perhaps the fundamental point. It is often
maintained that this selection is personal or
conscious choice. Now, is the behavior of
these lower organisms of the character which
we should naturally expect and appreciate if
they did have conscious states, of undiflfer-

Amoeba following a rolling Euglena cyst. The figures 1-9 show
successive positions occupied by amceba and cyst

It might be inferred that such terms as
pleasure and pain have only a limited meaning
when applied to the lower organisms. But
this is leaping at a conclusion. If words have
meaning, it is correct to say that the bacteria
enjoy themselves. They struggle for exist-
ence. The struggle implies all the victories
and all the defeats attendant upon the strug-
gle for existence among the highest organisms-
The bacteria of an organic disease should be
as capable of sensations as an elephant.

■■■■.■.■^Pr-K'

■ •"^m^'-'

■ "^('X'iiJ'^^'

Collections of bacteria about algae, due to the oxygen
produced by the latter. A, spirilla collected about a
diatom. After Verworn. B. bacteria gathered about a
spherical green alga cell in the light, a shows the con-
dition immediately after placing the bacteria and alga on
a slide; no collection has yet formed, b, condition two
minutes later; part of the bacteria have gathered closely
about the cell.

220

CURRENT LITERATURE

BEHAVIOR OF THE BRAIN WHEN PIERCED BY

A BULLET

^^^gf^HE consequences produced by a bul-
let crashing into the skull are often
so difficult of explanation, according
to the British surgeon. Dr. R.

Lawford Knaggs, that the numerous ex-
periments made to obtain a knowledge of
their nature merit the closest study. Now
there is a certain physical phenomenon so
closely associated with the effects of bullet
wounds that Dr. Knaggs alludes to it first of
all. In hydrostatics there is a law known as
Pascal's. This law is that pressure exerted
upon a mass of liquid is transmitted undi-
minished in all directions and acts with the
same force on all equal surfaces, and in a
direction at right angles to those surfaces.
The bearing of this law upon the subject in
hand depends on the fact that the skull is com-
pletely filled with contents of various degrees
of fluidity. During life the general sum of
the fluidity is greater than after death. Thus
there is the cerebro-spinal fluid in the ventri-
cles and in the subarachnoid space, the fluid in
the lymphatics and the blood in the vessels.
The brain itself, moreover, is a soft and
viscous substance. The cranial contents do
not constitute a uniform fluid, but we should
expect Pascal's law to apply to them.

The results of firing a bullet at a flat brit-
tle bone and into a soft substance like the
brain are very different. The bone is pierced
and the lateral displacement of its particles
is very slight; but the brain is thrown aside
in all directions. The difference is due to the
different degree of cohesiveness of the parti-
cles composing the two bodies or, in other
words, to the greater fluidity of the softer
structure. Next, the importance of fluid con-
tents in intensifying the effects of a bullet
fired through a closed receptacle is shown by
one of Kocher's experiments. Two identical
tin canisters were filled with equal quantities
of lint, which in one was dry and in the other
saturated with water. A bullet of moderate
velocity fired through them simply perforated
the dry one, but caused the wet one to burst
explosively. Kocher also filled a skull with
water and found that a bullet fired through
it caused bursting of the sutures. Very re-
markable is the shattering that results when
skulls that have been filled with water or with
wax are treated in this way, and if they are
compared with others showing the effects of
bullet wounds under normal conditions, it is

easy to appreciate that the variations pre-
sented are dependent, in part at least, upon the
difference in the character of the contents.
Dr. Knaggs is quoted in the London Lancet :

"A great many bullet wounds of the brain
prove rapidly fatal either from the initial shock
to the brain or from the hemorrhage that fol-
lows and compresses it, and it can only be in
very exceptional instances that surgery can be
of any material use at this stage. But if the in-
dividual should survive these dangers he still has
to reckon with the possibilities of sepsis and in
preventing or combating these the surgeon is by
no means helpless. The risks of sepsis in these
cases are such as are common to all compound
depressed fractures of the skull and do not call
for any special comment. But the bullet is a
special feature and its relation to the question
of sepsis is of considerable moment.

"It has been taught that the heat developed in
the bullet when it strikes the body is sufficient
to render it aseptic, but that idea is disproved
by the fact that *a bullet deformed by impact may
inclose a hair or a piece of wood without these
being in the least degree altered by heat.' On
the other hand, its smooth surface, the heat de-
veloped at the moment of firing and from the
friction in the barrel, as well as the effect of the
friction of the air in its course, are all in favor
of rendering it surgically clean at the moment
when it enters the body. . . .

"Now how does this explosive force tend to
produce death? Remember that it is propagated
through the cerebral tissues in all directions
against the hard and unyielding skull, not only
toward the vertex, but also toward the base,
and that if it is insufficient to burst open the
cranium it will be reflected on to the brain. In
such cases the surface of the brain, both at the
base and elsewhere, shows numerous points of
bruising as a result of the forcible contact pro-
duced between it and the bone. Moreover, in
the floor of the fourth ventricle are two very
important nerve centers — the center for the respi-
ratory movements and the nucleus of the vagus,
the nerve which is able to inhibit the action of
the heart. These ganglia suffer with the rest of
the brain from the general eccentric shock which
follows the entry of the bullet. . . . It is the
respiratory center that fails first and. when death
is taking place the heart will often continue to
beat for some time after all respiratory move-
ments have ceased. So Horsley found that when
a bullet was fired into the cranial cavity, complete
arrest of respiration followed. But the heart con-
tinued to beat and when artificial respiration was
performed the animal recovered from what would
otherwise have been a fatal arrest. But if this
immediate shock to the respiratory center does
not prove fatal another rise of intracranial pres-
sure very frequently follows. This second in-
crease of tension is due to hemorrhage taking
place within the skull and as the blood accumu-
lates the respiratory center is once more par-
alyzed, the vagus center is irritated, the heart's
action is slowed, and death results."

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

221

MISUSE OF HYPNOTISM IN SECURING CONFESSIONS

OF CRIME

OME little time before or after mid-
night on a January day last year a
young married woman, by name
Mrs. Bessie M. Hollister, was bru-
tally mui-dered in Chicago. Immediately
after the discovery of her body a young man,
Richard Glines Ivens, was arrested and
charged with the crim.e. It is alleged that he
almost immediately confessed that he was
guilty. He was tried by judge and jury, sen-
tenced to death and duly executed last year.
Nevertheless psychologists of international
fame, including Professor Hugo Munsterberg
and Professor William James, have asserted
that young Ivens fell a victim to "popular
ignorance of morbid psychology." In other
words, his detailed confession of the crime
was hypnotically suggested to the lad.
Whether guilty or innocent, the case of this
Chicago youth has already become: classic
in the annals of psychology, having been
commented upon as far away as Paris by so
eminent a psychologist as Professor Charles
Richet, of the University of Paris. The in-
ference of the most eminent of these au-
thorities is that the confession of Ivens was
"grafted" upon his intellect by the hypnotic
suggestion to which the police subjected it.
Dr. J. Sanderson Christison speaks as follows
of the hypnotic state in general.

"In a hypnotic state the most absurd notions
can be imposed upon a subject without arousing
in him any sense of incongruity. He will show
memory interruptions, irregularities of the will,
inhibitions of faculty and a capricious and altered
manifestation of personality. Absurd ideas may
not only be grafted upon the subject's mental
condition, but he can be led to believe and assert
successive slight modifications suggested to him,
while he may be opposed to other suggestions.
For example. Dr. A. Stoddard Walker (in the
Edinburgh Medical Journal, January, 1898) cites
the example of a hypnotic patient who doubted the
suggestion when only warned that a certain per-
son disliked him, but when told next day that the
same person only waited for an opportunity to
poison him, he immediately acted on the sugges-
tion. Of course, hypnotic manifestations vary
with personal peculiarities.

"The hypnotic state is allied to somnambulism
or sleep walking, with which it is often practically
identical. It may be spontaneously induced or it
may result from the operation of outside influ-
ence. It is more readily induced in persons with
certain peculiar conditions of the nervous system,
which may not be particularly noticeable on the
surface, such as hysterical qualities. The hyp-
notic state may be entered upon quickly or grad-
ually, and may also pass off in the same manner,
whether it lasts for moments or for weeks.

'It is most frequently induced by external con-
ditions and commonly requires counteracting con-
ditions to 'relieve it.

"An example of spontaneous or 'self-sugges-
tion,' which finally resulted in the subject 'con-
fessing' to a murder, was told the other day by
Dr. Hastings H. Hart, superintendent of the Illi-
nois Children's Home and Aid Society, having
offices in the Unity Building, Chicago. The sub-
ject was a girl he knew in Minnesota. She was
fifteen years of age \yhpn her story became so
burdensome to her conscience that she was im-
pelled to 'confess' it. She declared that some
years before, when living in Indiana, she became
jealous of another girl and killed her with an ax.
Thoro investigation, however, disclosed the fact
that no death had occurred in the family named.'

Dr. Christison insists that an mnocent
young man was hypnotized to the gallows in
this Ivens case in accordance with a regular
police practice. "It will be recalled by
many," he writes, "that an innocent man was
iliade to confess to the car-barn murder on
the south side of Chicago over two years
ago." How many other innocent men have
been made to confess and sent to prison will,
thinks this authority, never be known.

Dr. William James, the eminent professor
of psychology at Harvard, says he can see,
by reading the testimony at the trial of Ivens,
that one might get the notion of the lad as
"a sort of half-witted brute" with no intel-
lectual resources, trying to screen himself or
rather his first confession of the crime by
the plea of not remembering the fact of it.
To quote Professor James :

"If one rules out the collateral evidence, and
takes the Ivens utterances alone, I think one
stands between the two horns of a psychological
dilemma; and either horn is antecedently so im-
probable that I can excuse an ordinary judge and
jury for ignoring it. I mean that, whether guilty
or not guilty, Ivens must have been in a state of
dissociated personality, so exceptional that only
experts could be expected to treat it as credible.

"If guilty, he must have lapsed into that state
spontaneously shortly before doing the crime, and
emerged from it only after he had been some days
in prison. During it he made his confession, and
was then so contracted in his field of conscious-
ness as hardly to realize the significance of either
the confession or the crime. (I have known a
very similar case, with more complete amnesia
afterwards.)"

If Ivens was innocent, on the other hand —
and Dr. James inclines to that view strongly,
as he says himself — the shock of his experi-
ence with the police threw him into a state
which rendered the extortion of any kind of
confession easy. "He was probably hyp-
notized by the police treatment," writes Pro-

222

CURRENT LITERATURE

fessor James of the rigorous pressure brought
to bear upon Ivens by the authorities. Pro-
fessor Munsterberg goes even further. He
calls the execution of Ivens a judicial crime.
He has studied mental abnormalities for years
and has hypnotized many persons in that time.
"I feel sure that the so-called confessions of
Ivens are untrue," he declares. "He had nothing
to do with the crime." And Dr. Max Meyer,
Professor of Experimental Psychology at the
University of Missouri, thus vi^rites :

"(i) It is highly improbable that Ivens com-
mitted the crime. I might iust as well think of
having committed it myself.

"(2) There is no doubt to my mind that Ivens,
while being questioned by the police officers, for
some time at least, was in a state of hypnosis.

"(3) There is no doubt to my mind that tbe
'confessions' are the direct or indirect outgrowth
of injudicious suefgestions, coming from the police
officers, received by Ivens during the abnormal
mental state above mentioned.

"(4) The jury was incompetent for this case.
None of the members of the jury could possibly
understand the psychological factors of the case."

THE ANTAGONISM BETWEEN SENTIMENT AND
PHYSIOLOGY IN DIET

wo great questions have to be con-
sidered in thinking out the diet of
human kind, according to that emi-
nent student of the subject. Dr.
Josiah Oldfield. There is the physiological
problem, he says, of what will nourish the
body cells, and there is the interlinked mental
problem of what will satisfy the esthetic nature.

Most writers on diet ignore this latter
problem. They are quite satisfied to talk
about tables of nutrition and percentages of
nitrogen and carbon, as if these compre-
hended the diet question. Those, however,
who have studied human beings as living per-
sonalities and not as cog wheels have dis-
covered that sentiment plays a most im-
portant part in diet. The influence of senti-
ment on diet is increasing with the evolu-
tion of higher art and higher ethics.

Men in the medical profession are con-
stantly faced with sentiment set on edge.
Physicians are often taxed to the uttermost
to harmonize the physiological food which
they want to prescribe and the sentimental
objection to it which patients most acutely
manifest. There is the common illustration
which every one meets a thousand times in
a lifetime, of the girl whose functions need
much fat but whose stomach rebels at the
very thought of fat meat. The mother tries
persuasion and entreaty and threats and pen-
alties. But nothing can overcome the artistic
development in the girl's nature which makes
her revolt at the bare idea of putting the fat
piece of a dead animal between her lips.

But since it is fat that is needed, and not
fat meat, the antagonism that exists between
physiological needs and artistic sentiment is
got over by those who are endowed with suffi-
cient common sense by obtaining the fat from
a non-meaty source. Again and again Dr.

Oldfield affirms he has said to a patient :
"Now, what you want is more fat. You must
take plenty of fat." "Oh, but, doctor," is so
often the answer, "I can't bear fat." "Don't
you like butter?" Dr. Oldfield replies. "Oh,
yes, I like butter." "Well," is the rejoinder,
"did you ever see any lean butter?" "Oh,
no, but I thought you meant fat meat." Dr.
Oldfield proceeds, in Chambers's Journal:

"There is no doubt about it, hide it as one may,
there is something in the very idea of eating a
dead body which is repulsive to the artistic man
and woman, and which is attractive to the hyena
and the tiger. The poet who recognized that
there was a tiger-side to man recognized, too, that
it was the lower and the evanescent and the tran-
sitional, and that there was also an angel-strain
in the human race, and that this is the higher and
the progressive and the permanent. The tendency
of an advancing evolution is to war out the feroc-
ity of the tiger and the vacuous imitativeness of
the ape, and let the grace of the angel live.

"This law holds as good of food as it does of
all other fields of human activity. We are, there-
fore, perforce driven to face the problem of evo-
lution in dietary, and to ask ourselves in what
direction and on what lines this evolution tends.
To me, the development of humaneness and es-
thetics necessarily makes for an increasing bias
towards a humane and esthetic dietary. Whether
we search in the majestic language of the proph-
ets, or in the sweet melodies of great poets, or in
the weighty thoughts of meditating philosophers,
or in the fairy visions of romancers, or whether
we turn to the brush-pictures of inspired painters,
or to the imperishable mementoes of sculptors'
dreams, we find that the aspiration of the upward-
gazing man is towards the simpler life in food,
and towards a bloodless, guiltless feast, and
towards the products of the orchard and the har-
vest-field, and the vineyard and the olive-yard,
and away from the shambles and the stockyards
and the gore-stained slanghter-dens.

"My opinion, after a quarter of a century's
study of diet, is that the future lies with the
fruitarian, and that the r''"tice of flesh-eating
will become more and more relegated to the lower
classes and to the unimaginative-minded."

Recent Poetry

EVIEWING recently eleven volumes of
dramatic poetry by British bards of to-
day, the London Academy calls atten-
tion to the fact that not one of them
deals with events later than the time of the
Borgias. "Has nothing happened since, or nearer
home," it pertinently asks, "worthy of the dramatic
poet's consideration?" Then The Academy quotes
this passage from Emerson :

"For the experience of each new age requires
a new confession, and the world seems always
waiting for its poet. . . . We do not with
sufficient plainness, or sufficient profoundness, ad-
dress ourselves to life, nor do we chant our own
times and social circumstances. . . . Banks
and tariffs, the newspaper and caucus, methodism
and unitarianism, are flat and dull to dull peo-
ple, but rest on the same foundation of wonder
as the town of Troy, and the temple of Delphos,
and are as swiftly passing away."

This noble passage might serve as a sort of
Magna Charta for the whole poetic guild. What
it implies is that the true poet must be a seer.
We all know it and feel it, and every writer of
verse is striving to prove that the seer-like quali-
ties are his. Yet how few great seers a gen-
eration has, and how seldom one of these becomes
also a master of form. Wordsworth, Carlyle,
Browning, Emerson, Whitman, — all had the seer-
like qualities and all were notoriously careless as
to forms of expression. The only man now liv-
ing and writing in English whom we would dare
to name as a member of the same brotherhood is
Kipling, who also has taken undue liberties with
poetic form and even with the English grammar.

For a few brief minutes we thought when the
other day we opened a little volume by William
Ellery Leonard, of Madison, Wisconsin, that a
new seer had begun to speak to us. The little
volume, entitled "Sonnets and Poems," announces
that it is "sold by the author," and it bears the
imprint of no publishing house — a fact that will
deter most critics from going further into it than
the title-page. But even there something worth
while is found in this quotation from the Koran :
"The Heavens and the Earth, and all that is be-
tween them, think ye we have created them in
jest?" The "Dedication" also arrests attention:

Ye gave me life and will for life to crave:
Desires for mighty suns, or high, or low,
For moons mysterious over cliflfs of snow,
For the wild foam upon the midsea wave ;
Swift joy m freeman, swift contempt for slave ;
Thought which would bind and name the stars

and know ;
Passion that chastened in mine overthrow;
And speech, to justify my life, ye gave.

Life of my life, this late return of song
I give to you before the close of day ;
Life of your life! which everlasting wrong
Shall have no power to baffle or betray,

0 father, mother ! — for ye watched so long,
Ye loved so long, and I was far away.

The whole volume is one of distinct promise,
but it is obviously the work of one whose
imagination has been more often kindled by
what he has read than by what he has seen for
himself. But his aspirations are fine and his gift
of poetic expression is most admirable. We quote
two of the most representative poems :

ANTI-ROCOCO
By William Ellery Leonard

1 would make mention of primeval things.
Oceans, horizons, rains, and winds that bear
Moist seeds from isle to isle, caves, mountain air
And echoes, clouds and shadows of their wings
On lakes or hillsides, autumns after springs

In starlight, sleep and breathing and the blare
Of life's reveille, love, birth, death and care
Of sunken graves of peasants as of kings,

The wide world over, —

O be bold, be free!
Strip off this perfumed fabric from your verse.
Tear from your windows all the silk and lace ! —
And stand, man, woman, on the slope by me,
O once again before the universe,
O once again with Nature face to face !

COMPENSATION
By William Ellery Leonard

I know the sorrows of the last abyss ;

I walked the cold black pools without a star ;

I lay on rock of unseen flint and spar;

I heard the execrable serpent hiss;

I dreamed of sun, fruit-tree, and virgin's kiss ;

I woke alone with midnight near and far,

And everlasting hunger, keen to mar ;

But I arose, and my reward is this :

I am no more one more amid the throng;
Tho name be naught, and lips forever weak,
I seem to know at last of mighty song;
And with no blush, no tremor on the cheek,
I do claim consort with the great and strong
Who suffered ill and had the gift to speak.

Mr. Ludwig Lewisohn, another of the quite
young and quite promising poets of America,
whose plea for more passionate poetry we recently
quoted in another department, has written a poetic
sequence entitled "Amor Triumphans," selec-
tions from which are published in the December
number of The Pathfinder, the little magazinelet
printed by the University Press of Sewanee, Ten-
nessee. The selections are preceded by a letter
from Arthur Symons,who praises Mr. Lewisohn's
work as "human and direct," and declares that

224

CURRENT LITERATURE

he will be surprised if it does not meet with
immediate recognition. We quote the following
selections :

IF THOU FORGET
By Ludwig Lewisohn.

If thou forget, beloved, there shall be
No music and no laughter left for me.
No rising of dead stars forever set,
If thou forget.

If thou forget, the bitter memories
Shall press no tears from hot, unsleeping eyes,
But pale and passionless my life shall be.
No music and no laughter left for me,
Beneath dread skies in which all stars have set,
If thou forget.

If thou forget, strange Autumns shall arise.

With sobbing winds, and weary rain-swept skies.

Weary as wind or rain my life shall be.

Alone with bitter, burning memories.

No music and no laughter left for me

In those dim days when all niy suns have set.

If thou forget.

The following is also a part of Mr. Lewisohn's
poetic sequence, but is complete in itself. It is a
splendid expression of the feelings of a young
man who, sojourning still amid academic scenes,
hears the call of the larger life. This at least is
the interpretation that occurs to us :

THE GARDEN OF PASSION
By Ludwig Lewisohn

The lustrous flowers pale

Under the whiteness of innumerable

Great stars.

The winds arise and blow

A thousand fallen petals ruthlessly

Adown the garden-slopes, and from afar

Sounds the reiterate thunder of the sea.

Free lie the fields before me and the hills
And farther ocean. How the Autumn wind
Stirs the adventurous blood to immemorial
Dreams of strange lands and seas
In the illimitable West.

Not vain its call, for heart and blood have leapt
Swift at its coming, and I follow soon
The guidance of the wind and of the stars.

Soon, yet I tarry. Ah, how pale the flowers
That I have loved, how all their luring grace
Droops, fades and dies beneath these Norland

stars.
Here are no lilies, here no violets.
But blooms of ancient passions, dead desires,
Loves monstrous and unspeakable that stirred
Old unremembered kings in Babylon,
And priests of Ashtoreth upon the shore
Phcenician and the Lebanonian heights;
Blossoms that twined about the Phrygian oaks
And heard the madd'ning cymbals clash
When the fierce rout of priests
Worshiped the goddess upon Dindymus.

Here burns the lotus of the Nile, and there

The purple flower that broke

Into brief bloom where once Adonis fell.

Mourned by the maidens of the Asian shore

In deathless hymns of yearning.

The white narcissi of the Attic fields

Still flash beside the lake, and farther on

Dream passion-flowers on His agony.

How pale the flowers are — I must arise

And go unto the hills, and freely go,

Lest the winds die and the flower's pallor pass

Into golden glory and terrible tongues of flame.

And the ancient fervor throb in my racing blood.

Beautiful, unendurable and accurst.

The stars, visible deities, crown the hills

Forever. The winds are up, and the forest,

A primeval harp.

Responds with voices multitudinous ;

And I were glad and free, but that the shadow

Of a dream of a garden haunts me, haunts me.

Till stars and forest and everlasting hill

Are desolation and endless desert spaces,

To the di-eam of a garden of unendurable blooms.

Impressionistic, colorful, decadent, are the ad-
jectives that come to our mind as we read Arthur
Symons' new volume, ''The Fool of the World
and Other Poems" (John Lane). The title-poem
is a morality, in Which Death, "the fool of the
world," plays the chief part, attended by the
Spade, the Coffin, and the Worm. It is too long
to quote entire, and does not lend itself readily
to quotation. We make selections from the other
poems instead :

LONDON.
By Arthur Symons.

The sun, a fiery orange in the air,

Thins and discolors to a disc of tin.

Until the breathing mist's mouth sucks it in ;

And now there is no color anywhere.

Only the ghost of grayness ; vapors fill

The hollows of the streets, and seems to shroud

Gulfs where a noise of multitude is loud

As unseen water falling among hills.

Now the light withers, stricken at the root.

And, in the evil glimpses of the light.

Men as trees walking loom through lanes of night

Hung with the globes of some unnatural fruit.

To live, and to die daily, deaths like these,

-Is it to live, while there are winds and seas ?

THE LOVERS OF THE WIND
By Arthur Symons

Can any man be quiet in his soul

And love the wind? Men love the sea, the hills:

The bright sea drags them under, and the hills

Beckon them up into the deadly air;

They have sharp joys, and a sure end of them.

But he who loves the wind is like a man

Who loves a ghost, and by a loveliness

Ever unseen is haunted, and he sees

No dewdrop shaken from a blade of grass,

No handle lifted, yet she comes and goes.

And breathes beside him. And the man, because

Something, he knows, is nearer than his breath

RECENT POETRY

225

To bodily life, and nearer to himself

Than his own soul, loves with exceeding fear.

And so is every man that loves the wind.

How shall a man be quiet in his soul

When a more restless spirit than a bird's

Cries to him, and his heart answers the cry?

Therefore have fear, all ye who love the wind.

There is no promise in the voice of the wind,

It is a seeking and a pleading voice

That wanders asking in an unknown tongue

Infinite unimaginable things.

Shall not the lovers of the wind become

Even as the wind is, gatherers of the dust.

Hunters of the impossible, like men

Who go by night into the woods with nets

To snare the shadow of the moon in pools ?

A SONG AGAINST LOVE
By Arthur Symons

There is a thing in the world that has been since

the world began :
The hatred of man for woman, the hatred of

woman for man.
When shall this thing be ended? When love

ends, hatred ends.
For love is a chain between foes, and love is a

sword between friends.
Shall there never be love without hatred? Not

since the world began,
Until man teach honor to woman, and woman

teach pity to man.

O that a man might live his life for a little time
Without this rage in his heart, and without this

foe at his side !
He could eat and sleep and be merry and forget,

he could live well enough,
Were it not for this thing that remembers and

hates, and that hurts and is love.
But peace has not been in the world since love

and the world began.
For the man remembers the woman, and the

woman remembers the man.

We find no very original note in the volume

entitled "The Days That Pass," written by Helen

Huntington and published by John Lane. But

we find much that is graceful and attractive. This

for instance :

VALUES

By Helen Huntington

"What shall I gain, O Tempter!

if I throw my heart to the crowd?"
"Fame," he replied, "and curious glance,

and praises ringing loud."

"What in exchange, O Tempter!

if I drown my love in the sea?"
"Sleep," he replied, "and quiet days with

never a memory."

"Atid what for reward, O Tempter!^
if I dig a grave for my dreams?"'

"Peace," he replied, "and pride of place
and all that the world esteems."

"And what at the end, O Tempter !

when I reach the farthermost goal.
And stand alone at the gates of Night,

a poor little naked soul?"

The note of personal experience is stronger
in another very slight volume, which lacks
the imprint of a publisher. It is entitled
"The Song of the City," and the author is Anna
Louise Strong, the book being printed in Oak
Park, Illinois. We select the following for quo-
tation :

THE CITY LIGHTS
By Anna Louise Strong

The stars of heaven are paler than the lights
That gleam beside them sixteen stories high ;
Outlined against the blackness of the sky

Tall buildings glimmer through the frosty nights.

The stars of heaven in stately silence move
Beyond the circle of the window-gleams.
But dazzled by the fitful lower beams,

I think not of the light that shines above.

But when I speed upon the outbound train.
The lights of earth mist-hidden fade away;
And quietly the stars resume their sway,

And shine in peace above the world again.

CITY COMRADESHIP
By Anna Louise Strong

Face on face in the city, and when will the faces

end?
Face on face in the city, but never the face of a

friend ;
Till my heart grows sick with longing and dazed

with the din of the street.
As I rush with the thronging thousands, in a

loneliness complete.

Shall I not know my brothers? Their toil is one

with mine.
We offer the fruits of our labor on the same great

city's shrine.
They are weary as I am weary; they are happy

and sad with me;
And all of us laugh together when evening sets

us free.

Face on face in the city, and where shall our for-
tunes fall?

Face on face in the city, — my heart goes out to
you all.

See, we labor together; is not the bond divine?

Lo, the strength of the city is built of your life
and mine.

The heart-cry of the emigrant finds new and
poignant expression in the following stanzas,
which recently appeared in McClure's;

THE DAUGHTER
By Theodosia Garrison

It's not meself I'm grieving for, it's not that I'm
complaining,
(He's a good man, is Michael, and I've never
felt his frown)
But there's sorrow beating on me like a long
day's raining
For the little wrinkled face of her I left in
Kerrydown.

226

CURRENT LITERATURE

It's just Herself I'm longing for, Herself and
no other —
Do you mind the morns we walked to Mass
when all the fields were green? —
'Twas I that pinned your kerchief, oh, me
mother, mother, mother!
The wide seas, the cruel seas and half the
world between.

It's the man's part to say the word, the wife's to
up and follow —
(It's a fair land we've come to, and there's
plenty here for all)
It's not the homesick longing that lures me like
a swallow
But the one voice across the world that draws
me to its call.

It's just Herself I'm longing for. Herself and
no other —
Do you mind the tales you told me when
the turf was blazing bright? —
Me head upon your shoulder, oh, me mother,
mother, mother.
The broad seas between us and yourself
alone to-night!

There's decent neighbors all about, there's coming
and there's going;
It's kind souls will be about me when the little
one is here ;
But it's her word that I'm wanting, her comfort
I'd be knowing,
And her blessing on the two of us to drive
away the fear.

7;'^ just Herself I'm longing for, Herself
and no other —
Do you mind the soft spring mornings when
you stitched the wedding-gown? —
The little, careful stitches, oh me mother,
mother, mother,
Meself beyond the broad seas and you in
Kerrydown !

Our American poets are deprived of much of
the appeal that antiquity makes to the imagina-
tion. They have to draw their inspiration from
a glowing future rather than a glorious past. In
one of the most modern of our cities, however, a
touch of antiquity is found that has been happily
translated into the following poem, which is pub-
lished in Munsey's:

THE SAND SWALLOWS OF MIN-
NEAPOLIS
By Chester Firkins

White cliflf and rolling river,

And over them only the sky.
Thus has the Master-giver

Housed them and let them fly.
Age upon eon follows.

Races and forests fall;
Still nest the white-sand swallows

In old St. Anthony's wall.

I, that am young a dreaming,
And you, that are centuries old.

Both know the swift wings gleaming —
I and Pere Louis, the bold !

Fleeing the red foe's pyres,

Two hundred years ago,
Found he these soaring choirs

Where now wide cities grow.

Hail to ye, winged warders !

In your carven watch-towers high ;
Be ye, perchance, recorders

Of that hero-world gone by?
Oh, for those storied pages,

Tales of my sword-won land.
That ye hold through the changing ages

In your caves of the snow-white sand.

White breast and brown wings swerving.

And under them ever the roar
Of brown Mississippi, curving

Adown his cliff-locked shore.
Bard after warrior follows.

Yet never to bard shall fall
The lore of the white-sand swallows

In old St. Anthony's wall.

In The Reader Magazine appears an exquisite
little lyric, which seems to have almost sung it-
self: •

A SKETCH
By Buss Carman

In the shade of a wide veranda,
Where the sand-heat shimmers and glows.

Fronting the high Sierras,
In their tints of purple and rose.

There in her grass-rope hammock.

Idly she sits and swings.
Kicking the floor in rhythm

To the throb of her banjo strings.

She is dark as a Spanish gipsy.

Save for the eyes of blue.
Her skirt is divided khaki.

Her sombrero is pushed askew.

She is ardent and fine as a flower.
She is fearless and frank as a man,

In her heart is the wind of the desert.
On her cheek is the mountain tan.

What is the gorgeous music

She plays in a mood so slight.
Whose cadences haunt my fancy.

Barbaric as love or night?

It rings through the painted canon

Where the dizzy trails deploy.
Piercing our modern sorrow

With its pagan note of joy.

Is it an Aztec measure.

Some Indian minstrelsy.
Or a great ungirdlcd love-song

From the magic isles of the sea ?

Whatever the theme of the music.

Passion or prayer or praise.
It breaks with a dying cadence.

It will follow me all my days.

Ballad-writing may not be the highest order
of poetical production, but, judging from the
meager supply of it in this country, it is one of

RECENT POETRY

227

the most difficult forms. For one thing there is
a temptation usually overpowering to make the
ballad too long. The following ballad, in the
Boston Transcript, has undeniable dramatic ac-
tion, but we fear that it has too great length
for a very long portage.

FOR THE LIVES OF MEN AND- THE

FATHERLAND

By Bertrand Shadwell

"Oh, who will carry a message for me

Through the enemy's lines to Bois-le-grand ?

And race with Death, by the darkened sea,
For our brothers' lives and the Fatherland."

"And I will take it," cried Carl the scout,
"Will carry your message to Bois-le-grand;

But I shrive my soul, ere my setting out
To race with Death for the Fatherland."

"Now shrive thy soul ere the moon rise bright;

Now grasp me thy lance's shaft in hand;
Now saddle a horse as black as the night.

And ride for the love of the Fatherland."

There's a stamp and beat by the stormy tide.
Heard through the crash of the breaking seas.

Quick through the darkness, strike and stride,
Galloping, galloping down the breeze.

Lost in the roar and blotted out.

Louder and nearer and coming fast.

"Body of God! A Prussian scout!

Swift as the whirl of the tempest blast."

A hurry of hoofs and a clank of steel,
A sentinel's challenge, a mocking cry,

A lance's thrust and a sudden wheel;
And he's through their pickets and thunders by.

"Fire at him ! Shoot him, Jean and Paul !

Damn this breech-block, jamming tight!
Down with the horse and the rider '11 fall !

Gone, like a ghost, in the blinding night!"

Gone with a rush for the race with Death,
With a bullet-graze from the starter's gun:

Not a pull or a pause to gasp for breath.
Till the post be passed, and the stakes be won.

"Now gallop, now gallop, my coal black steed.
As never before on the foeman's ranks;

Now keep the lead with all thy speed.
For a skeleton horse is on thy flanks.

"Side by side, I can hear his stride.
On the boundless shores of the darkened sea.

Five leagues long and a full mile wide;
Ho, ho! — What a course for Death and me!

"Ho, ho!— What a course for Death and me,
Smooth and hard on the level sand.

Straight and true as a track can be,
For the lives of men and the Fatherland!"

Through the heart of a volley, roaring loud,
He reaches their lines, with ringing feet;

And there's never a pause in their music proud.
Or a change in the time of their rhythmic beat.

The rush of a rider down the night,

A thunder of guns along the sea.
And, dashing their files to left and right.

He has broken their ranks, and gallops — free.

Forty feet at a swinging stride.

Leaping on to the stinging goad.
He laughs, as their bullets go singing wide;

And the Frenchmen curse, as they fire and load.

"Fool and fanatic, to tempt his fate;

Yet, if he live, we have lost the day.
Telegraph on, ere it prove too late.

Half our cavalry— C/oj^ the Way!"

A clock strikes, close, in a darkened spire
He flies a shadow beneath the stars ;

But swifter flies on its wings of fire
The fatal flash that his passage bars.

Vainly he urges and spurs his steed.
Sparing him not as he nears his goal ;

Never the charger shall serve his need.
Never the horse that a mare did foal.

"Oh, who will carry a message for me
Through the enemy's lines into Bois-le-grand?

And race with Death by the darkened sea,
For our brothers' lives and the Fatherland."

Now stretch thy back, thou gallant black;

Yet I fear this race shall be thy last;
For the fleshless rider holds the track;

And his skeleton mount is winning fast.

O'er the dreary dune, as the rising moon
Showed a dead, white face to the sea and land.

With his stirrups beating a burial tune,
Came a riderless horse into Bois-le-grand.

There was blood on his rein; there was blood on
his mane,
And a bloody despatch in his girth's broad
band;
So the race was run, and the battle was won.
Ere we fired a gun — for the Fatherland.

The following poem we take from The New
England Magazine:

THE SLEEPING BEAUTY
By Edith Summers

"And many came before the hundred years had
expired, and tried to break through the hedge, but
perished miserably in the attempt, because it was
not yet time for the princess '0 awake."
O happy prince, wilt thou not weep one tear
For all the valiant hundreds that have failed.
Because nor skill nor giant strength availed
'Gainst that sealed scroll wherein no man may

peer —
The dead, who toiled and strove without one fear
To warn them that the chamber yet was veiled —
Hearts that in rout and peril never quailed
Vanquished by that long striving year on year?
O be thou humble, thou, the single one.
Who gained the prize the multitude have lost!
Mark those white fragments bleaching in the

sun —
Wan relics of lost hopes and passions crossed:
All that thou didst and more they too have done ;
Thy ecstasy is purchased at their cost.

Recent Fiction and the Critics

Many years ago it was remarked that Marion

Crawford reminded one of a lady in a French

comedy who, having once been in

A LADY OF Italy, introduced into her conver-
ROME sation at every possible and im-

possible occasion "le beau del
d'ltaly." Since then Mr. Crawford has grown
much older, but he is still obsessed with Italian
subjects, and sacrifices his genius on the altar of
local color. His latest novel, "A Lady of Rome,"*
another Italian study, has called forth the most
varying opinions. Says The Argonaut (San
Francisco) : "There is a strong family resem-
blance to all his characters, and we constantly
meet old names and old localities in Mr. Craw-
ford's latest book. For all that, the story ranks
with the author's best novels." So far, so good.
But on opening The Mirror (St. Louis), we find
this unequivocal dictum: "Altogether it appears
that this 'Lady of Rome' is nothing more than a
Marion Crawford pot-boiler, saved from absolute
worthlessness only by the technique that is the
result of a quarter of a century of writing."
Town Topics (New York) which, in spite of its
unsavory reputation, is sparkling and reliable in
its book reviews, takes a middle course between
the two verdicts quoted above. "We recognize,"
it says, "in the 'Lady of Rome' the same fluency,
the same charm, that all his [Crawford's] read-
ers have long been familiar with, yet one can
hardly escape ranking this novel as having only
plot enough for a short story, and being chiefly
notable as a specimen of how deftly a skilled
workman can spin out the most tenuous nf
threads."

"A Lady of Rome" is the study of a woman,
who, as The Academy remarks, expiates the sin of
her early matrimonial infidelity at some length in
the book, in fact from cover to cover. The sub-
ject is delicate, but Mr. Crawford can claim a
special gift for treating a theme designated by The
Times Literary Supplement (London) as "cleanly
wantonnesse." Mr. Crawford's heroine is married
against her will to an uncongenial husband, who
leaves her when she confesses that her child is
not his. Thereupon, observes The Saturday Re-
view of Books (New York), "torn by conflicting
passions of love, religion, and a healthy con-
science, Maria Montalto begins her expiation by
renunciation, nurtures through an impossible pla-

tonic friendship, and finally wins both salvation
and material happiness through the timely death
of the gentle, generous but unromantic husband,
who was the unfortunate victim of both sin and
expiation."

With its customary keen scent for wickedness,
the same authority discovers that the story evi-
dently contains a "spade," but, we are told, "it is
cunningly buried from the gaze of the ubiquitous
Young Person, and from the eyes of those whose
acquired lack of imagination prevents them from
either perceiving or appreciating the art neces-
sary to contrive so deft a concealment." A critic
in The Bookman (New York) is more outspoken
on the subject. He refers to an essay by Craw-
ford on "The Novel" in which the latter admits
that almost every novelist sooner or later feels the
temptation to write books "with the help of the
knowledge of evil, as well as with the help of the
knowledge of good," and in consequence "occa-
sionally introduces a page or chapter which might
have the effect, so to say, of turning weak tea into
bad whiskey." This phrase, the reviewer says, is
worth quoting here, not for the sake of com-
mending it — indeed, the bigotry of such an atti-
tude goes a long way toward explaining the ar-
tistic superiority of continental fiction over
Anglo-Saxon — but because it throws some little
light upon Mr. Crawford's own writings." He
goes on to say:

"If he were in a candid mood, he would prob-
ably own that in writing his new volume, 'A Lady
of Rome,' he had yielded rather more than is his
wont to this temptation to invoke the help of the
knowledge of evil. Not that 'A Lady of Rome'
is especially startling, or even reprehensible, to
readers who are not over-delicate in taste. It is
rather the self-consciousness on the author's part,
his obvious misgiving lest he may be giving bad
whisky instead of the weak and innocuous tea
that he has served more than once of late years,
that calls your attention to the fact that every-
thing is not quite virginibus puerisque."

SIR NIGEL

• A Lady of Rome. By Marion Crawford. The Mac-
niillan Company.

"We always return to our first loves," says a
French ditty. Analogously, there seems to exist
among mature novelists a ten-
dency to return to their earlier
style. Conan Doyle's "Sir Nigel"*
is a companion piece, in spirit at
least, to "The White Company," a historical novel

* Sir Nigel. By A. Conan Doyle. McClure, Phillips &
Company.

RECENT FICTION AND THE CRITICS

229

written a year before its author leaped, arm in
arm with Sherlock Holmes, into international
fame. We gather from The Outlook (New York)
that it is Conan Doyle's ambition to write sound,
thoro, semi-historical fiction and that he regards
"The White Company" as the most serious piece
of work he has done.

In "Sir Nigel" he tells of deeds of derring-do
in Surrey, and of those French campaigns which
lie between Cregy and Poitiers. But his desire
to be at once accurate and interesting has led him
into a pitfall. Or more exactly, he, at times, falls
between the two stools of explanation and action.
The Times Literary Supplement (London) says
on this point:

"Lo ! at the eleventh hour we find him now ex-
plaining how it is that he has written in this way
and that way, apologizing, cap in hand, to His-
tory for taking a liberty with her here and there,
or submitting that 'the matter of diction is al-
ways a matter of tasti and discretion in a histor-
ical reproduction,* hoping that his readers may
not find incidents here and there too brutal and
repellent, and finally pointing, with an air of par-
donable pride, to the pile of books on his study
table that have gone to the building of this one.
History may easily forgive him ; he has caught
again the manner of the past, and we do not think
that the modern reader will dream of accusing
him of too much brutality. But the overcon-
sciousness of that pile of books has done some-
thing to spoil a capital tale."

The London Outlook calls attention to the thin-
ness of the plot, which it regards as responsible
for the novel's laclc of cohesive strength as com-
pared with the author's earlier achievements. The
mere spirit of knight errantry, the reviewer avers,
is not sufficient to give a properly connected pur-
pose and sequence. Tho, he continues, the author
has drawn Nigel Loring with distinctive and gal-
lant traits, his deeds, rather than himself, give
interest to the story. Much more enthusiastic
is "A Man of Kent," in The British Weekly. He
says : "I have read Sir Nigel with unmixed de-
light. It is certainly one of the best historical
romances in the English language. Every touch
tells." The only criticism the "Man of Kent"
makes on the book is that the love-interest is
hardly strong enough. He objects to the author's
description of the heroine as "dark as night,
grave featured, plain visaged, with steady brown
eyes looking bravely at the world from under a
strong black arch of brows." "Should not," he
asks, "'plain visaged' be omitted? There are no
plain heroines, and never could be."

The Daily Mail (London) in its review of the
book makes an interesting analysis of the writer.
It says:

"To Sir A. Conan Doyle fiction is rather a

creed than a mistress; he develops his conscience
and he minds his manners, but he does not mani-
fest the exceeding joy of creation. He is mount-
ed not upon Sir Nigel's fiery yellow horse of
Crooksbury Hill, but upon a more humdrum, jog-
trot steed warranted well up to his weight, and
without vice. Sir A. Conan Doyle represents in
contemporary fiction the essentially British stand-
ard. He has an orderly, well-regulated mind, and
a confidence which may not be assailed. But he
writes lacking that one flash of inspiration which
would touch to fire great issues. He can interest,
but he cannot thrill."

Yet, when all is said, the Daily Mail reviewer
finds that "Sir Nigel" is "a thoroly skilful piece
of work, and has never in its workmanship been
surpassed by the author." "The tale," he con-
cludes, "should take its rank, not only with 'The
White Company,' but not too far on the shelves
from the immortal company of Sir Walter Scott."

REZANOV

"Rezanov,"* by Gertrude Atherton, is also a
semi-historical novel. It introduces us to Alaska
at the time when the Russians at-
tempted to gain a foothold there.
Rezanov is a Russian plenipoten-
tiary, a man of far-reaching aims
and qualities comprising greatness. Foiled in his
attempt to establish Russian rule at Nagasaki, he
makes a second attempt at San Francisco. Here,
to quote the London Spectator, "this storm-tossed
Russian Ulysses, in whom ruthless ambition is
combined with strong personal magnetism, finds
his Nausicaa in Contha Arguello, daughter of
the Commandante of the Presidio, a girl of only
sixteen, but endowed with rare intelligence as
well as personal beauty." To quote further :

"Rezanov — his Russian wife, it should be
added, had died many years before — makes Con-
cha his confidante, not intending at the outset to
allow their relations to pass beyond the limits of
a mere flirtation, but gradually finds his affections
engaged and recognizes in her his true affinity.
The progress of his love runs no more smoothly
than that of his diplomatic negotiations. The
Dons are dilatory, if courteous and hospitable,
while, to say nothing of eligible rivals, there is
the obstacle of differing faiths to be overcome."

Amid the splendidly picturesque environment of
the same California landscape which Belasco re-
cently has turned to such excellent use in his
play "The Rose of the Rancho," the story marches
vigorously to its predestined close and the proud
Russian succumbs to fever and privation on his
return from an adventurous expedition.

The opinion seems to prevail among critics that
Mrs. Atherton has not succeeded in making Rez-
anov half as lifelike as Concha. She is also taken

• Rezanov. By Gertrude Atherton. The Authors' and
Newspapers' Association,

230

CURRENT LITERATURE

to task severely for her peculiar mannerisms of
style. The Saturday Rcviezv (London) remarks
on this point: "Though there are many passages
in which we admire the cleverness, the robust
energy, and the direct expressiveness of Mrs.
Atherton's style, there are also times when her
powers of conveyance fail her, when her ingen-
uity of expression becomes twisted and obscure,
and her forcible manner of description is a mere
flinging of words." The London Outlook states
that the writing is unequal. "The author does
not altogether escape the pitfall of the high-
sounding and ill-digested rhetorical periods to
which many American speakers and writers are
prone, and this form of literary success goes
hand in hand with that other odd and engaging
quality of trumpet-like explicitness in conversa-
tional manner."

But there is more trouble ahead for Mrs. Ath-
erton. An American reviewer (in the Boston
Herald), while admitting her narrative power and
fine perception of human nature, affirms that her
originality is on the wane. "Since 'Senator
North' appeared," remarks the Herald critic,
"this gifted author has not met her readers' ex-
pectations. Her later novels have seemed forced
and her plots rather stereotyped. There is a de-
cided lack of spontaneous movement, a notice-
able poverty of material for the plot." The Lon-
don Academy, on the other hand, pronounces the
book, while not the most interesting, the best
written and most carefully studied work from
Mrs. Atherton's pen.

The Saturday Review, from which we have
quoted above, draws an interesting parallel be-
tween Mrs. Atherton and Mrs. Humphry Ward,
which, on the whole, strikes us as rather favor-
able to the American writer. It says :

"Mrs. Atherton takes her work very seriously,
and has always a definite aim of an extremely
ambitious and pretentious kind. In that respect
she resembles Mrs. Humphry Ward. Both ladies
have a most portentous gravity of manner, and
show an explicit confidence in their own powers
of treating weighty matters, and epoch-making
events, and of portraying the most distinguished
and remarkable public men. Mrs. Atherton's con-
tinental intrigues are more naive and consequent-
ly less irritating than Mrs. Ward's tea-table poli-
tics, and drawing-room diplomacy, moreover she
is not dependent for her plots on well-known
diaries and biographies, nor does her dialogue
consist of the worn-out sayings and notorious
bons-mots of Regency wits. While Mrs. Ward
enriches her modern men and women with the
ideas and conversational successes of the eight-
eenth century, Mrs. Atherton, on the contrary,
makes her characters of a hundred years ago talk
very fresh and modern American, and invests her

chosen period, the age of Napoleon Buonaparte,
with the feeling and atmosphere of the present
day."

SOPHY

KRAVONIA

Anthony Hope's new novel* offers another ex-
ample of the tendency on the part of literary men
to revert, after a long and pros-
perous career, to the manner of
their early successes. Mr. Haw-
kins, says the New York Evening
Post, speaking of the book, cannot be called mute,
yet as to the note that he sounded in "The Prison-
er of Zenda" his "harp mouldering long has hung."
His Rupert, it goes on to say, was hardly more
than a spurious claimant to the affectionate in-
terest aroused by the former book; in "Sophy of
Kravonia," however, there comes a lawful heir to
enthusiasm.

This heir — but let us borrow the introductory
remarks of the London Tribune. Mr. Anthony
Hope, that publication gleefully informs us, was
the man who first discovered the penchant of cer-
tain young Englishmen for visiting strange little
kingdoms and principalities, not to be found on
the map of Europe, in order to interfere in the
fortunes of the reigning dynasties. "The little
kingdoms," it says, "are usually Teutonic, tho
occasionally Slavonic; the young Englishmen are
invariably heroic. But if Mr. Hope was the first
to discover this, others were by no means back-
ward in taking the hint, and the number of young
heroic Englishmen who have adventured in more
or less Eastern unmapped Europe since Rupert
Rassendyl first set the fashion must be almost
enough to populate a fair-sized German kingdom
on its own account." When this literary mine
was exhausted by a score of imitators, who, the
reviewer asks, "was so capable as its original
prospector of pegging out the first claim in a new
gold field? Accordingly, he has given us 'Sophy
of Kravonia.' He has performed his prospecting
with great skill." To quote again :

"Realizing that the same vein of gold which
has been exhausted in the one mine will very
likely crop up somewhere else in the same dis-
trict, he has not troubled to shift his camp very
far. He has sought his gold on the same prin-
ciples as before; he has found it where he ex-
pected, and no doubt the public will be as anxious
as ever to take shares in the company of which
he is managing director. To abandon the lan-
guage of metaphor, Mr. Hope makes but one
change in his new version of the heroic young
Englishman in unmapped foreign parts — and one
which should appeal to the vast majority of his
readers. The young Englishman is become a
young Englishwoman. For Rupert read Sophy,

Sophy of Kravonia, By Anthony Hope. Harper &
Brotheri.

RECENT FICTION AND THE CRITICS

231

and the trick is done. Sophy it is who adven-
tures to the unmapped Kingdom of Kravonia, who
performs prodigies of valor on behalf of the
Crown Prince Sergius — marrying him, inciden-
tally, upon his deathbed — and generally does,
rather better, everything that her male predeces-
sors have done before her."

Other commentators are less patient. The
London Academy pronounces the book dull. Tt
ascribes its "comparative failure" to the repetition
of an old device. In no circumstances, it says< can
we imagine that the plot actually needs any fanci-
ful land for its development, unless it be that the
author wished to introduce kings, queens, and
their ministers in order to delight the ears of the
ladies' maids. The reviewer goes on to say:

"Since the time of Homer fabulous countries
have frequently been used with great effect by
distinguished writers. Homer himself made them
the scenes of strange appearances and wonderful
adventures. Shakespeare was as brilliant as
Homer when he gave us the island with Prospero
and Caliban and Ariel upon it. For a very dif-
ferent purpose Jonathan Swift invented Lilliput
and Brobdingnag. Like cannot be compared with
unlike, but the purpose at which Swift aimed was
as brilliantly achieved in his way as was that of
Shakespeare and Homer in their way. Defoe
stumbled upon a place of fictitious geography that
will ever delight the minds of children. When
Mr. Anthony Hope wrote 'The Prisoner of Zenda'
this discovery of new land had a freshness and a
beauty of its own. Perhaps one reason why we
find the Kingdom of Kravonia dull is because Mr.
Anthony Hope has had so many imitators. Prob-
ably a hundred books have been written since his
first one appeared, and the device has become
stale. He is not alone in his misfortune. Mr. H.
G. Wells, who went beyond the habitable globe
altogether in search of a dwelling-place for the
efforts of his imagination, must also be now grow-
ing sick of the planet Mars and even of occa-
sional comets. A fictitious land can only be use-
fully invented when there is something new to
say. It is always more or less of a Utopia."

Naturally the question arises whether, in the
opinion of the majority of critics, Mr. Anthony
Hope has been as happy in this romance as in its
predecessor, which established his fame. And
here critics differ widely. But Edward Clarke
Marsh in The Bookman strikes the general tenor
when he remarks :

"The persistent reference of everything he has
written to that trifling product of his salad days
seems at last to have got on the author's nerves.
'Hang it all !' he may be imagined saying, 'they're
still talking about that silly, superficial thing, are
they? Very well; if they want 'Zenda' stories,
they shall have them.' And forthwith he writes
the best story he has given us since 'The Pris-
oner of Zenda.*"

"The Prisoner of Zenda," Mr. Marsh assures
us, is worthy of a place beside Stevenson's mas-
terful romance, "Prince Otto." In the present
book, he remarks, Anthony Hope has at last
turned imitator of himself. That, we are told,
is the exact measure of the distance between the
two novels in question. "Yet," Mr. Marsh ex-
claims, "if we can't have the fine original again,
let us be thankful for an imitation so nearly
perfect."

"The authors of this book,* Cyrus Townsepd

Brady and Edward Peple, are so attached to each

other personally that they have

RICHARD dedicated this little comedy to

THE BRAZEN cach Other, respectively — each,
however, claiming all the bright
things contained herein and blaming his collab-
orator for every fault which any reader may
justly or unjustly criticize." This bright inscrip-
tion is the tag with which his two fathers sent
into the world of fiction that delightfully Amer-
ican youth not at all misnamed "Richard the
Brazen." Brady's name has adorned the title
page of a prodigious number of novels. He pos-
sesses the power of telling a story, spinning a
yarn, a power in which many masters of the
literary craft are sorely defective. Edward Peple,
author of "The Prince Chap," on the other
hand, can tell a joke well and likewise pos-
sesses constructive ability. It would be surprising
if the two of them had not, in the words
of one critic, produced a story, "winged with
the spirit of laughter." No reviewer dreams
of accusing the joint authors of profundity of
thought, and some seem to feel that two such
collaborators ought to have produced a work of
more permanent value; but the St. Paul Pioneer
Press about expresses the general feeling when
it speaks of the book as "a brave piece of up-to-
date fiction, fat with the material of which thrills
are made, and warranted to be finished in one
sitting." The authors, it continues, seem to take
delight in appropriating all the poet's license
available, thus gaining the opportunity to let their
fertile imaginations run amuck, creating sad but
entertaining havoc in the hedges and byways of
prosaic everyday probability." To quote further:

"The story takes its name from the hero,
Richard Williams, a young college-bred cowboy
of Texas, who must have seemed brazen indeed
at times, but who really was, in spite of the over-
whelming evidence against him, a genuinely
worthy and modest young fellow. It fell to his

• Richard the Brazen. By Cyrus Townsend Brady and
Edward Peple. Moffat, Yard & Company.

232

CURRENT LITERATURE

lot to rescue the pretty daughter of a New York
financial magnate from under the hoofs of his
father's steers, and during the process, hurried
and breathless though it must have been, he fell
in love with her. That she should afterwards
turn out to be the daughter of his father's bit-
terest foe is the precise spot where the plot be-
gins to thicken, and, incidentally, Richard's trou-
bles to begin."

Altogether, says the Pittsburg Index, Richard
the Brazen has a hard time getting his affairs
settled. But all comes right at last, and one is
sorry to come to the end of the story. Fortu-
nately the authors have dramatized their romantic
history, and those who have learned to like
Richard may have the chance to see him in the
flesh, at least on the stage.

The Fugitive— By Henry Normanby

The author of this terrible pen-picture of a hunted criminal is an English writer whose
name has become known but recently and does not even appear in the British "Who's Who" for
1906. We are indebted to The Grand Magazine for this story, one of a number which that peri-
odical has published from Mr. Normanby's pen.

OW the rain fell ! How the wind blew !
How the barges creaked and groaned
as they pressed upon each other ! How
3 the river hurried away ! How dark
the darkness was ! How dreary, how hopeless,
how bitter was the night !

The man came creeping and stumbling and
shuffling along, turning to look back at every few
steps, furtively glancing about him, starting at
every sound — a dirty, unkempt, ragged, wretched
being, the fear of his fellows in his slinking,
crawling gait; the fear of death in his restless,
hunted eyes; the fear of God in his evil heart.

Constantly he stopped and listened, then shuf-
fled and stumbled on again, sneaking deep in the
shadows of walls and houses, tho everything
everywhere was in shadowed obscurity, avoiding
the open places, avoiding men and women, avoid-
ing even children.

Through filthy streets, made filthier by the mire
of traffic, through squalid alleys and over dreary
wastes he made his way, on and on, mile after
mile, stopping only to listen, pausing only to look
back. Hurrying stealthily and silently past the
homes of men, away to the hospitality of the
wilderness. His boots were without soles, and
at each halting step his cut and bruised feet left
a stain of blood. Blood there was also on his
clothes, stale, dull-red, diluted with rain and
mud, but still blood — veritable human blood.

Passing the open doors of foul pothouses he
breathed more deeply, for the exhalation was
fragrant to his nostrils, and the reeking warmth
grateful to his starved body; but he dared not
enter one of them, dared not even look in, for
men, his fellows, were there congregated to-
gether, and light was there, and laughter, and the
sound of revelry. There each man knew his
neighbor and gazed upon him, face to face ; but
he, the outcast and fugitive, was wretched and
secret;, and a man of darkness.

How the rain fell ! How the wind blew ! How
the river hurried away!

Oh, the inscrutable mystery of the breathing
world ! This fearful man had once been fair to
look upon ; his mother had sung him to slumber
with low lullaby, his father had taken pride in
him, his children had clung to him, holding him
by the hand. He had walked abroad freely in the
sweet and noble air, and drunk deeply of the
breath of the morning. His name was untar-
nished, and no sinister whisper assailed it. He
had set forth in all the braveries of youth, and
the powers of evil had come upon him and com-
passed him about and brought him surely into
this pitiable pass. He had wandered in dark
places and stumbled amongst the rocks, and the
hand of calamity had lain heavily upon him.

As he crept through the darkness, stopping
only to listen, pausing only to look back, his shift-
ing, hunted eyes lighted on a piece of bread, un-
touched even by the dogs ; he snatched it up and
shuffled on, devouring it ravenously.

Making his way in the direction of the docks,
he crossed pieces of waste land, stumbling over
loose stones, old tins and heaps of refuse. Find-
ing himself at times shut in by hoardings, he
had to retrace his steps and seek other ways to
reach obscurity. He shuddered at the sinister
suggestion of the cranes which projected from
the warehouses towering above him, he shuddered
at the wind, he shuddered at the beating of the
pitiless rain.

The short alleys and streets to his right ran
straight out to the river bank. He glanced down
each one, hesitating for a moment, then, deciding
to seek a more secure hiding-place, he went on
and on, always through deserted places, always
in the darkest shadows. The sudden blast of a
whistle startled him, and at the end of one of the
pitch-black alleys he saw the red light of an
outward-bound steamship. Other lights flashed

THE FUGITIVE

233

in turn as the vessel went by, steaming safely
through the mazes of the river, going freely out
into the abysmal darkness of the deep. He could
hear the steady beat of her propeller and the clat-
ter of tackle about her decks. In a momentary
silence he could even hear the pilot's order and
the rattle of the chains as the wheel swung round.

She passed on, and he, too, resumed his way,
flying tardily from the might of the Law. With
every accomplished mile hope rose in his heart,
every minute was enormously precious, and the
minutes and the hours were passing, and his pur-
suers gave no sign.

Fear had conquered hunger, and holding the
filthy piece of half-eaten bread in his hand he
slowly hurried along, until at length his weari-
ness became so oppressive and weighed so ex-
ceedingly upon him that he could scarcely thrust
one foot before the other. Still he struggled on,
stopping only to listen, pausing only to look back,
until further progress was impossible. Domi-
nated by his weakness he crept into a black alley
which, like its fellows, ran crookedly out to the
mud of the river, and, without attempting to find
any shelter, lay down on the ground. The ces-
sation from movement was sweet to him, even as
he lay there, foul and pitiful, chilled to the mar-
row with the ceaseless, dreary, drenching rain.

For a minute, a radiant, perfect minute, he
slept and forgot his danger, his sorrow, his un-
utterable misery. Oh, the sweetness of that brief
oblivion, of which pain had no part, neither
memory nor tears ! The sublime absolution of
that fraction of time wherein he was once more
young and entirely innocent and magnificently
free ! It was no guilt-laden soul that slept there,
but a child lapped in the loving safety of its
mother's arms.

Round him were gathering all the forces of
Fate, the tempest of retribution was thundering
in the air, and the sea of his destiny was rising
with the menace of destruction.

He awoke -with a terrible cry, and started up.
alert and listening. No, it was imagination, or a
dream — nothing. He again lay down, only to
start up once more in a few seconds. This time
he was not mistaken. He heard with certainty
the far-off baying of a dog !

Leaping to his feet, the wretched man hurried
away, breaking into a shambling run, and once
more through the noises of the night came that
faint and far-off cry.

How the wind blew ! How the rain fell ! How
the river hurried away !

He ran stumbling along, no longer stopping to
listen nor pausing to look back. On and on
through the dreary night, while again came the
baying of the dog, more distinct, more insistent —

nearer ! Through squalid streets, under dripping
archways, across roads and down alleys the fugi-
tive hurried. Sometimes they had no egress,
whereupon he turned back, reluctantly retrac-
ing his steps, cursing bitterly the while. Still on,
slackening perforce his half trot, half run, into
obscurer alleys and yet darker places. At times
he fancied the baying of the dog had ceased, and
hope rose in his heart; but in the brief silences
which followed the wild rush of the wind and the
pitiless beating of the rain, it came to him again,
distinct, insistent, unmistakable, and always
nearer !

For the fraction of a minute it occurred to the
wretched man to ask help of his fellows ; but he
dismissed the thought, knowing only too well that
it would be useless. The hand of every man was
against him, for even as he had sown so was he
also reaping. His own mother had repudiated
him and cast him forth. Oh, Father in Heaven,
what manner of man was this whose mother
turned from him in his hour of need?

He hurried further and further from the
lighted streets and the comfortable warmth of
taverns, and, keeping always in the shadows,
turned down one of the alleys which ended at
the bank of the river, thinking that possibly he
might find a boat in which to cross.

He stopped for a moment to listen, running
on again with the energy of desperation as the
deep baying of the dog came out of the night,
following him. The bread, which he had only
half eaten, he threw away in the vain hope that
the dog might be tempted to stop for it.

Still the blood, fresh and bright red, marked
every footstep, and still on his clothes was blood,
stale, dull red, diluted with rain and mud, but
blood, veritable precious human blood.

He was utterly exhausted and spent. His jaw
dropped and his tongue protruded. His breath
came quickly and laboriously, as of those stricken
with swift and mortal sickness, and a great op-
pression was upon him. His eyes were wild and
bloodshot, yet they restlessly glanced hither and
thither, seeking a means of escape. His legs gave
way beneath him, and several times he fell head-
long, only to drag himself up again and struggle
on and on — anywhere for safety, anywhere out
of reach of the vengeful, implacable beast that
followed without ceasing.

Reaching the bank of the river, the hunted man
saw in a moment that his time had come. The
tide was far out, and the boats lay firmly in the
thick mud. He made an effort to get out to the
edge of the water, but the depth of the mud pre-
vented him, and he hastened along the bank
eagerly seeking for any hole or corner in which
to hide. For a moment the wind died away, and

234

CURRENT LITERATURE

out of the darkness came the terrible cry of a
huge bloodhound. Help there was none, hope
there was none, pity there was none ! Everything
had its allotted task; the somber clouds were
sweeping beneath the stars; the wind was blow-
ing across the earth; the rain was faUing upon
the just and unjust; the river was hurrying away.
Everything was fulfilling its destiny. The man
also his.

As the desperate wretch hurried along looking
for a place of escape, he suddenly almost fell
into an open drain. Lowering himself down to
lessen his fall he dropped into the foul sewage
which flowed out over the mud to the river, and
waded up the drain until he reached the small
black tunnel through which the blacker filth ran
with a sullen roar.

Within there was nothing but intense dark-
ness, so deep, so sinister and appalling, that the
man hesitated to enter; but his restless, eager
eyes, always seeking a means of escape, discerned
in the darkness without a monstrous bloodhound,
with muzzle almost touching the ground, coming
along the river-bank, even as he had come, fol-
lowing in his very footsteps. As irresolutely he
gazed at the dog, the animal gave voice to a
long, low growl.

The doomed man turned and waded into the
horrible depths of the tunnel, while a great splash
warned him that the dog had sprung into the

sewer and was following him with swift, un-
erring steps. The sewer deepened as he went on,
and he was soon wading waist-deep in the pes-
tiferous liquid which rushed past him. At the
same moment something soft, wet and living
leaped upon his shoulder and plunged again into
the rushing water.

Behind him came the dog, silent and terrible.
As he sank up to the neck the man made a last
frantic efi^ort to hold on to the slimy wall of the
tunnel. He clutched at it vainly, his feet slipped,
and the foul water rushed over him. He rose
once more, and the next instant his throat was
seized in a fearful grip. For a moment he strug-
gled, tearing at the dog's head with his hands,
then uttered a long and frightful cry, and the
performance was over.

Holding the lifeless body of the man in his
teeth, the dog swam out into the open air. He
dragged it out into the mud, and, having given it
a savage shake, just as he might have shaken a
rat, turned slowly away and disappeared in the
darkness. Immediately afterwards some dozens
of small, wet, soft creatures, with pointed noses
and glittering eyes, emerged from the black water
and made their way to the body with a speed
which suggested the expectation of a feast.

And still the rain fell, and still the wind blew,
and still the river hurried away.

FOLLOW THE LEADER-

-A CHRISTMAS IDYL

— C. J. Rudd in Harper's Weekly.

Humor of Life

THE CLASS IN CHEMISTRY

Schoolmaster (at end of object lesson) :
"Now, can any of you tell me what is water?"

Small and Grubby Urchin: "Please, teacher,
water's what turns black when you puts your
'ands in it !'' — Punch.

ARTISTIC PRIDE

Aunt: "I think you say your prayers very
nicely, Reggie."

Young Hopeful : "Ah, but you should hear me
gargle !" — Punch.

LUCKY

A census-taker, while on her rounds, called at
a house occupied by an Irish family. One of the
questions she asked was, "How many males have
you in this family?"

The answer came without hesitation : "Three
a day, mum."^Harper's Magazine.

A FRIEND IN NEED

AuTOMOBiLiST (to another who has broken
down) : "Can I be of any assistance to you?"

The Afflicted One (under the machine) :
"Yes, sir. That lady you see is my wife. I'll be
obliged if you will kindly answer her questions
and keep her amused while I'm fixing this in-
fernal machine." — Woman's Home Companion.

THE WRONG KIND

Paul's teacher was giving the class exercises
containing words ending in ing, with the view of
emphasizing the necessity of pronouncing final g.

Paul exhibited his slate timidly.

"The horse is runnin'," read the teacher. "Ah,
Paul, you have forgotten your g again."

A moment later the slate was thrust triumph-
antly under teacher's surprised nose.

"Gee! the horse is runnin'," she read this time,
smiling patiently. — Harper's Magazine.

" BUT THOSE UNHEARD ARE

SWEETER"

Scene — A Boarding-house
Wife: "Why do you always sit at the piano,

David ? You know you can't play a note !"
David : "Neither can anyone else, while I am

here !" — Punch.

NOT TRANSFERABLE

Six-year-old Tommy was sent by his sister to
the grocery to buy a pound of lump-sugar. He
played on his way to the store, and by the time
he arrived there he had forgotten what kind of
sugar he was sfent for. So he took a pound of
the granulated article, and was sent back to ex-
change it.

"Tommy," said the grocer, as he made the ex-
change. "I hear you have a new member in your
family."

"Yes, sir," repHed Tommy, "I've got a little
brother."

"Well, how do you like that?"

"Don't like it at all," said Tommy ; "rather had
a little sister."

"Then why don't you change him?"

"Well, we would if we could; but I don't sup-
pose we can. You see, we've used him four
days." — Harper's Magazine.

BURIED TREASURE

Dumley: "I met a fellow to-day who was
simply crazy about a buried treasure ; couldn't
talk of anything else."

Peckham : "That reminds me of my wife."
Dumley: "Oh! Does she talk about one?"
Peckham : "Yes, her first husband. I'm her
second, you know." — Tit-Bits.

THE COMING SQUALL

— Jfoinan's. Home Companion.

The Artist: "Oh, ze madam has ze grand face.
I shall make ze speaking likenesg."

Henpeck: "Er — well, old man, you needn't go so
far as that, you know." — Metropolitan Magazine.

236

CURRENT LITERATURE

Passenger (faintly): "S-s-stop the ship! I've dropped my teethi"

-Punch.

THE MATTER WITH MIKE
Sportsman : "I wonder what's become of
Mike? I told him to meet me here."

Driver : "Ach, 'tis no use tellin' him anything !
Sure, sorr, ut just goes in at wan ear and out at
the other, Hke wather off a duck's back !" — Tit-
Bits.

MIXED METAPHORS
"Comrades, let us be up and doing. Let us take
our axes on our shoulders, and plow the waste
places till the good ship Temperance sails gaily
over the land."

"Gentlemen, the apple of discord has been
thrown into our midst; and if it be not nipped
in the bud, it will burst into a conflagration which
will deluge the world."

— From "Humor of Bulls and Blunders."

ITEMS OF INFORMATION
A correspondent writes to know what he ought
to get for "kicking cows." We should say about
a year if he does it habitually.

Mr. and Mrs. G wish to express thanks to

their friends and neighbors who so kindly assist-
ed at the burning of their residence last night.

When a gentleman and lady are walking in the
street, the lady should walk inside of the gentle-
man.

Owing to the distress of the times Lord Cam-
den will not shoot himself or any of his tenants
before October 4th.

A man was arrested this morning for stealing a
string of fish very much under the influence of
liquor.

— From "Humor of Bulls and Blunders."

AN EXPLANATION

An alienist came wandering through an insane
asylum's wards one day. He came upon a man
who sat in a brown study on a bench.

"How do you do, sir?" said the alienist. "What
is your name, may I ask?"

"My name?" said the other, frowning fiercely.
"Why, Czar Nicholas, of course."

"Indeed," said the alienist. "Yet the last time
I was here you were the Emperor of Germany."

"Yes, of course," said the other, quickly; "but
that was by my first wife," — Argonaut.

ONE POINT OF AGREEMENT
"But I am so unworthy, darling !" he mur-
mured, as he held the dear girl's hand in his.

"Oh, George," she sighed, "if you and papa
agreed on every other point as you do on that,
how happy we would be!" — Tit-Bits.

THE GOOD OLD TIME
"What! it takes you four weeks to make a few

insignificant repairs? Ridiculous! Why it took

God only six days to create the world."
Contractor: "Ah, but he didn't employ Union

labor." — Haiiser's Buerger und Bauernkalender

(New York).

Photograph by Harris-Ewing, Washington

"THE MOST ISOLATED FIGURE IN THE UNITED STATES SENATE"

Senator Robert M. La Follette, of Wisconsin, finds himself out of touch with the other Republican Sen-
ators because of his supposed radicalism, distrusted by the President, and, of course, not in harmony with
the Democrats. The other senator from his own state- — Senator Spooner — is his dearest foe. Nevertheless
he is always mentioned in these days in any list of presidential possibilities in 1908. He is but five feet
four inches high, but he can talk on economic questions, especially railroads, in a way to hold the rapt
attention of farmers, laborers, merchants and professional men.

Current Literattire

Edward J. Wheeler, Editor
VOL XLII, No. 3 Associate Editors : Leonard D. Abbott, Alexander Harvey MARCH 1907

George S. VIereck '

A Review of the World

^LAYING with fire" is the phrase in
which President Roosevelt is said
to have characterized the attitude
of San Francisco towards the Japa-
nese. The press of the country has been doing
something of the same sort. Especially in the
despatches sent out day after day from Wash-
ington, peaceable citizens have found them-
selves confronted at their breakfast tables with
the specter of a war which no one seems to
want, but which many see approaching as Mark
Twain sees monarchy approaching — by force
of circumstance. "More than nine-tenths of the
war talk and the stories of warlike prepara-
tions on both sides is anonymous," observes the
Minneapolis Tribune. "What is the origin of
it? Who is pulling wires in the dark to put
two friendly countries by the ears?" It in-
timates that the desire of "the steel trust
crowd" and the shipbuilders for large military
and naval appropriations may be responsible,
but this is evidently a mere guess. Some of
the Japanese, it is said, attribute the bellicose
talk to the war correspondents who were
turned down so hard by the Japanese military
authorities in the late war, and who are now
alleged to be seeking revenge. This also is a
guess and seems like a pretty poor one. In
still other quarters the origin of the scare is
said to lie in what President Roosevelt has
said to the California congressmen; but his
language is not quoted and the reports of
what he said vary. Only one bit of direct in-
formation has come to light as a basis for the
scare, and that is the assertion of Congress-
man Hobson, of Merrimac fame, that he had
seen with his own eyes an ultimatum from
the Japanese ambassador at Washington to the
eflFect that the United States must place those
Japanese children back in the San Francisco
schools or "suffer the consequences." This is
denied in Washington, tho not as explicitly

as might be, and the general opinion is that
Hobson's zeal for a very big navy has caused
him to "see red" without adequate reason.
England, he insists, wants Japan to fight the
United States in order to check our industrial
progress, and Japan will pick a quarrel if she
can before the Panama Canal is completed.

T^HE controversy over the Japanese school-
■■' children has progressed in the last few
weeks far toward an amicable settlement.
Various conferences have been held with the
President by Mayor Schmitz and his board of
education, who went to Washington for that
purpose, and an agreement was reached
subject to the assent of Congress, of Japan,
and of the people of San Francisco Con-
gress has already assented to its part of the
agreement that was reached. By it the younger
Japanese children who speak English will be
readmitted to the public schools. In return for
this the immigration law has been amended so
that Japanese coolies can be barred from our
shores at the discretion of the President. A
plan for this purpose was evolved by the
President, Secretary Root and Senator Lodge
that will enable Japan to "save her face."
Japan does not now grant passports in any
considerable number to her laboring classes
for emigration to the United States. Such
emigration is, in fact, discouraged. But pass-
ports are granted to Hawaii and to the
Panama Canal zone and the Philippines. Once
in any of these places, there is now no law to
keep the Japanese coolies out of the United
States. The plan gives to the President
power to keep them out of this country unless
their passports are to the United States direct.
Then Japan, by refusing passports to this
country, herself bars the way of her coolies,
saves her face and maintains friendly rela-
tions with this honorable nation and its hon-

238

CURRENT LITERATURE

but who would relish an opening year of humilia-
tion ? David bumped Goliath ; Japan might bump
America if we should be caught unprepared."

HAS HAD EMINENCE THRUST UPON HIM
The test case taken to the courts by the Japanese to
prove their rights, under treaty, to send their children
to the public schools of San Francisco, is made up
over the exclusion of this little Jap, Keikichi Aoki.

orable President. The Butte Inter-Mountain
derives a lesson from the war scare :

"It has been a useful lesson, this tempest in
the Japanese teapot. Perhaps the Pacific Coast
will be fortified now. Perhaps, in place of the
vacillation of the past nine years, vigorous poli-
tics in the Philippines and Hawaii will be initi-
ated. It is well enough to speak lightly of the
result of a war in the Pacific; every Ajnerican
believes in the martial supremacy of this nation ;

A S FOR San Francisco, this war-talk has
■**• aroused very little interest and no excite-
ment out there, strange as it may seem. That,
at least, is the statement of the San Francisco
Chronicle, and it is confirmed by the special
correspondent of Harper's Weekly, William
Inglis. The vital question out there is not the
war with Japan, but the war with the grafters.
"In the present furious state of the public
mind in California," writes Mr. Inglis, "such
a minor question as whether or not there may
be war with Japan is here thrown aside as a
mere academic problem." Not so the question
of Japanese exclusion. That arouses intensity
of feeling, not only in San Francisco, but
throughout California. The correspondent of
the Chicago Tribune asserts that since the
President issued his message on the subject
the women have started an anti- Japanese cru-
sade, and fifteen hundred Japanese house ser-
vants have been discharged. "Every woman
who is healthy and able," so runs the women's
war cry, "shall do her own work unless she
can get a white girl to serve her family." Den-
nis Kearney, the sand lot agitator, has lifted
up his voice in lurid warnings of the woe
that will come unless Japanese immigration
be at once stopped. The convictions of the
California people are put in moderate but for-
cible language by the San Francisco Bulletin:

"We have learned a lesson from the experience
of the Southern states. Their race problem is
an ancient inheritance; a condition with which
they must struggle. What amount of foreign
commerce would the South not gladly sacrifice
if by the sacrifice the blacks would be persuaded
of their own free will to migrate to Africa or
some other congenial clime? Our race problem
is still in the future. We can prevent it from
developing further if we act firmly and sanely
now and put aside the counsels of doctrinaires
and academicians.

"Californians do not hate the Japanese any
more than the Southern whites hate the negroes.
We respect and admire the Japanese for their

WILL THERE BE A WAR WITH JAPAN?— AN INTERVIEW WITH THE NATIONS.

— Spokane Spokesman-Review.

OUR NEWSPAPER WAR WITH JAPAN

239

THE MEN WHO EXCLUDED THE JAPANESE CHILDREN

Mayor Schmitz (third from the right), with his assistant city attorney^ and members of the San Francisco
Board of Education, made the trip to Washington to consult with President Roosevelt about the Japanese
school children, and after many interviews reached an agreement that it is hoped will suit all parties. By it
the Japanese children (not the young men) who speak English will be readmitted to the public schools and
Japanese coolie labor will be practically excluded from our shores.

valor, their intelligence, their enterprise and their
success in the world. But we see clearly that the
copious immigration of Japanese coolie labor to
the United States will in a short while cause very
grave industrial evils, will tend to degrade white
workingmen to the coolie plane of living, on
which alone they can compete with the Japanese,
and, in the long run, because of the reasonable
or unreasonable refusal of the white and yellow
races to intermarry, will breed a race problem
of infinite difficulty.

"Excluding Japanese coolies is no more an in-
sult to the Japanese nation than excluding Japa-
nese goods. . . . There is no desire in Cali-
fornia to insult or humiliate Japan. All we want
is exclusion, and whether we get it from Wash-
ington or Tokyo, from Congress or the Mikado,
by statute or by treaty, does not matter so long
as we really get it."

ALWAYS a sprightly and a gay and very
often a good-natured prime minister, the
Marquis Saionji, in the notable address which
he delivered to the Japanese diet recently,
assumed a virtuous severity of expres-
sion when he pronounced the name of Cali-
fornia. Every seat in the semi-circular

tiers into which the deputies are packed like
an audience at a play was occupied long be-
fore the Marquis put in an appearance. Em-
peror Mutsuhito himself did not face a greater
throng when, a month before, he read his
speech from the throne to a legislature which
deemed him still divine, tho his Majesty was
in the ungodlike dilemma of needing money
and had come to say so. The subject of the
Prime Minister was peace. Having depicted
Theodore Roosevelt in a light scarcely less
fascinating and lambent than that of the
moon, Marquis Saionji referred to the treaty
rights of his country in the United States,
to the interests of justice and humanity, and
to the necessity of increasing the military and
naval forces of the empire until they are ade-
quate to vindicate the national honor and dig-
nity. Peace, affirmed the Marquis, presup-
posed the efficiency of the army and navy.
The safety of Japan depended upon the execu-
tion of the plans of the Minister of War and
the Minister of Marine. The strength of the

240

CURRENT LITERATURE

i-. ^-»^^"^S

H^' i

M'l^^ '^1^ 1*- «i'*^^W

Uii^m^

l3lS^^^

^r* ^

^-m-

- «

%. \

wm -r* '

■ ^^

^Mi

W'^ '~

.- V -^

Courtesy of T^e Independent

EXCLUDED

Here are some of the Japanese children who are not admitted to the public schools of San Francisco, except
the one Oriental school, and who are now in attendance at a private school. The picture (which includes
also a number of teachers) was made by Mr. K. K. Kawakami, whose investigation leads him to believe that
a little tact on'the part of the school authorities, when the children were sent home, would have saved the
whole situation.

Japanese army is to be increased by fifty per
cent. Moreover, three special forces must be
organized at once — namely, heavy field artil-
lery, quick-firing field artillery and cavalry
horsed with the best cattle. The navy is to
grow at an even more rapid rate. By the
time the Marquis resumed his seat every
deputy in the chamber was convinced that the

government contemplated a Japanese efficiency
of preparation for peace.

WHAT SAN FRANCISCO OBJECTS TO

— T. S. Sullivant in N. Y. American.

JAPAN not long since completed the largest
battleship in the world, a fact overlooked
in this country by many who have read all
about the huge British Dreadnought. But the
Satsuma exceeds the Dreadnought in displace-
ment, in speed and, it is said, in armament.
The Satsuma was built with Japanese labor
alone, except that some of her plates were
rolled in the United States. Yokosuka, where
the Satsuma was launched, is said to be the
best equipped plant in the world to-day for
the construction of warships. Two big battle-
ships recently completed for the Japanese
navy in England went into commission last
month. Simultaneously came the announce-
ment that two ships of more than the colossal
size of the Satsuma, with the same tremen-
dous broadside fire of twelve-inch guns, are
approaching completion. Their construction
was not supposed to be so far advanced. Sir
William H. White, one of the highest living
authorities on naval construction, professes
surprise at the speed with which Japan is put-
ting one great battleship after another into
blue water. The financial strain must be se-
vere, but the estimates laid before the diet

JAPAN'S ELABORATE PREPARATIONS FOR PEACE

241

last month point to a state of unexampled
national prosperity. Profits accruing from
the nationalization of the railroads will, it
seems, be devoted to naval development. But
the Prime Minister v^ished it distinctly under-
stood that Japan's expenditure upon her ar-
maments is not made with any one power in
view. "It is intended," said the Marquis,
"solely to preserve peace." President Roose-
velt, as the Berlin Kreuz Zeitung rather dryly
observes, has faith in the Japanese mode of
attaining peace. He has written a letter to
the chairman of the naval committee of the
Senate advocating the construction of battle-
ships of 20,000 tons displacement each, with
liberal complements of twelve-inch guns.

A JAPANESE squadron was to have vis-
**• ited the port of San Francisco this
month. The Marquis Saionji had allowed a
quarter of a million dollars for the expenses
of this cruise. Vice-Admiral Kataoka, famous
as an entertainer, was to take a battleship and
two cruisers right into the great American
harbor of the Pacific and proceed to the con-
ciliation of the natives. The federal officials
in San Francisco had been instructed from
Washington to extend every courtesy to the
officers and men of the squadron. Suddenly
the affair was called off. Sensational dailies
abroad scented a local trade union conspiracy
to provoke some unpleasant incident while the
ships were in port. Tokyo was compelled to
deny officially that it had any idea of this
kind. Now it is intimated that the Japanese
squadron may arrive after all, not this month
perhaps, but probably in April or May. Racial
hatred has attained such virulence, according
to the London Standard, that the cautious
Tokyo government must yet decide that this
cruise of conciliation would be hazardous.
What if there were another Maine incident?
There is scarcely a newspaper in Europe
which does not reflect, in some such form as
this, the prevalent view that the relations be-
tween Japan and the United States, altho not
in the least strained diplomatically, are ap-
proaching a crisis that will intensify ere it as-
suages. San Francisco has become, for ,the
time being, the most important fa-ctor' in
world-politics. The local officials of Sa^
Francisco, from the Mayor to the members of
the Board of Education, have sprung into in-
ternational prominence.

"THE WORST MAN IN THE UNITED STATES"
That is the way Frederick Palmer, Collier's corre-
spondent, characterizes Abe Ruef, of San Francisco.
His unenviable reputation as a political boss, grafter,
and attorney for resorts of vice has lately become in-
ternational, French and British papers speaking of it
with amazement. He (as well as Mayor Schmitz) is
under indictment. Young Rudolph Spreckels has
guaranteed a fund of $100,000 to put him behind the
bars.

metropolis, Dante might explore the darkest
circle of his own hell to no purpose. "Things

C" OR a sink of sensual defilement grosser in
*■ corruption than San Francisco, as cer-
tain dailies abroad reflect conditions in that

THE YELLOW PERIL
Japanese scholars at the head of their class.

— Macaulay in X. Y. IVorlJ.

242

CURRENT LITERATURE

UNCLE SAM AND THE LITTLE JAP
Uncle Sam : "If you will persist in coming to
■ school here, I'll end by giving you a lesson."

— Pasquino (Turin).

are done here," observes the British daily of
the birthplace of "Abe" Ruef, "that would
cause horror in the Eastern states or in
Europe." Ruef himself, transformed, for the
nonce, into a Californian Nero, is described
as a man of forty who looks fifty, "the most
cunning and unscrupulous boss the United
States has so far produced," a little slender
mortal who goes about in old clothes and has
held Mayor Schmitz in a vise-like grip polit-
ically. The men now serving as minor offi-
cials under the present municipal government
of San Francisco are held up as a disgrace
to the city. "The majority of them can not
speak a sentence in correct English, and some
of them can hardly read or write. Barroom
politicians, roughs, ward-heelers, bullies, they
form the most extraordinary assortment of
officials ever seen in a great city." Ruef has
dominated them all. Since the fire consequent

upon the earthquake, we are further assured,
unblushing and systematized plunder has dis-
played the pride of public spirit. Gambling
resorts make no pretense of concealment.
Street railways strung trolley wires where
they pleased, because they had paid $750,000 to
Ruef and his tools, the men who are loudest
in demanding that the Japanese be excluded
from the United States.

HTHE tall, handsome, genial man who crossed
•*■ the country last month to discuss with
President Roosevelt the segregation of Japa-
nese with Chinese and Koreans, enjoys at this
moment a European renown not less sinister
than that of Mr. Abraham Ruef. Eugene E.
Schmitz, Mayor of San Francisco, is admitted
in European dailies to be glib of speech and
pleasing in address. When he visited Eng-
land last October he was quoted in the Lon-
don newspapers as a high authority on the
crisis. Since his indictment on charges of
extortion from San Francisco restaurant pro-
prietors, his international 'importance has ac-
centuated itself. "He is about the same age
as Ruef," remarks an unfriendly London biog-
rapher, "and is a native of San Francisco, the
son of a German father and an Irish mother."
Schmitz's maiden performance as mayor was
the composition of a letter beginning "My
dear Ruef," and stating that throughout his
term of office the dear Ruef's advice and judg-
ment would be the inspiration of the munic-
ipal administration. The consequences were
encouraging to local pickpockets and confi-
dence men. "They were protected so thoroly

THE BOGEY-MAN OF THE WORLD
The nations in chorus: I wonder if he is looking at me!

— Bartholomew in Minneapolis Journal.

DEGRADATION OF THE JAPANESE COOLIES

243

that they were regularly organized." There
were squads of these operators, each officered
by an expert, who conducted them to their re-
spective spheres of interest. The necessary cash
and the benevolent neutrality of the policeman
on the beat never failed. Royalties of a
princely magnitude were collected by the
agents of Mr. Abraham Ruef. "One man who
ran a small 'game' at the back of his cigar
shop paid a hundred dollars a week." Stories
of this kind have been circulated in Europe
until the name San Francisco is becoming in-
separable abroad from an abominable odor of
moral putrefaction.

P EOPLE in San Francisco, according to the
*■ London Times, have been incited to frenzy
against the Japanese through an agitation that
is "causeless, artificial and wicked;" but other
British dailies do not take such a view of the
matter. Competent authorities on such a
theme as the Japanese native character side
with Mayor Schmitz on the issue of ethics,
the moral point. The Japanese in San Fran-
cisco belong, as a rule, to that proletarian class
now swarming over Korea and pressing into
Manchuria. They are petty traders and ped-
dlers from instinct, lenders of small sums after
the usurious fashion of the Greek pettifoggers
who bled the fellaheen of Egypt until Lord
Cromer drove them out of the land. The
Japanese Prime Minister has himself striven
to prevent the influx into Korea and Man-
churia of multitudes of his countrymen of the
undesirable kind now streaming into Hawaii,
and of which an advance guard has reached
San Francisco. Stockily framed, heavily
built, square shouldered, the emigrant Japa-
nese, affirms Mr. F. A. McKenzie, who knows
him well, is of the lowest grade, morally and
physically. Hordes of disorderly Japanese,
destitute of civilized instincts, beat men, as-
sault women, rob and murder all over Korea.
Their brethren are piling into California on
every available steamer. "It was the freedom
they had to assault the Koreans," writes Mr.
McKenzie in the London Mail, "that led the
Japanese to think they had an equal right to
ill-use the white people." Outrages on Amer-
ican missionary women in Korea, invasions of
Roman Catholic religious institutions by
crowds of roughs, the subjection of native
ladies to the last foul affront that can be
heaped upon their sex have been the accom-
paniments of Tokyo's supremacy in this un-
happy country. The incidents are characteris-
tic, not exceptional. The perpetrators of these
crimes are in their native land on a social

THE HAWAIIAN ISLANDS
From telegraphic description, as seen by the war
correspondent at the front.

— Bartholomew in Minneapolis Journal.

level with the Japanese proletariat of Cali-
fornia.

JAPANESE who emigrate are said by those
who know them to be more ambitious of
success as traders or officials than of anything
else. The men will, indeed, turn their hands
to anything for a time — bricklaying, fruit-
picking, menial service — but they invariably
set up shop in the end. The tales told of the
cruelty of the Japanese in Manchuria and in
Korea would be incredible were they not so
well authenticated. "The courtesy and breed-
ing of the better classes in Japan veil and
lessen racial antipathy. Ther6 are few Euro-
peans knowing the truth but can relate stories
of bullying, of ill-treatment and of petty
tyranny from the emigrant Japanese. The
stories I have heard and have verified of white
men and women assaulted and abused have
more than once made my blood boil." Thus
Mr. McKenzie. His reports do not vary in
essentials from the accounts of correspondents
on the staff of the Paris Temps. The demand
of the Tokyo government for "fair" treat-
ment of the Japanese in California is said by
the Paris Journal des Dehats to reflect hu-
morously upon the educational discrimination
practiced in Korea. The Marquis Saionji,
while insisting that Japanese proletarians sit
side by side with American girls in San Fran-
cisco's public schools, will not educate Japa-
nese and Koreans side by side in either Tokyo

i44

CVRkMT LlTERAWkE

or Seoul because the Koreans are an inferior
race. Nor does the Marquis reveal in Korea
any such scrupulous regard for treaty obliga-
tions as he is at present demanding in Cali-
fornia. That, at any rate, is the view of the
French daily, which supplies details concern-
ing the refusal of Japanese magistrates to
grant redress to Koreans when appeal is made
to treaty stipulations. Nothing is easier for
those who maintain that the influx of the
Japanese into San Francisco is a moral men-
ace than to give chapter and verse. The only
difficulty, according to the Paris Figaro, is to
conceive of any form of pollution capable of
befouling the moral atmosphere of San Fran-
cisco with a grosser filth than its natives them-
selves supply.

A MERICANS in the eastern states are
•**• thought in Europe to be still influenced
by impressions of the Japanese character de-
rived from the progress of the late war in the
Far East. It has still to be realized here that
the army of Japan is composed of men be-
longing to the class known in England as
"upper middle." No man of the class to be
met with in the Japanese neighborhoods of
San Francisco would be admitted to the ranks
of the army of his own country. "The rela-
tive social grade of the Japanese soldier," says
Mr. Homer B. Hulbert, one of the best in-
formed of living authorities on Korea, in his
new work, "The Passing of Korea," "is much
higher than in any other country." Mr. Hul-
bert confirms all that is said by other ob-
servers concerning the moral character of the
Japanese masses. The instances of cruelty
given in his book are as shocking as any
recorded by London or Paris dailies. No ap-
peal to the Tokyo authorities is seriously con-
sidered by a ministry which, according to the
Washington correspondent of the London
Post, is not at all disinclined to have a sub-
stantial grievance against the United States.
Those Berlin dailies which do not take the
Marquis Saionji's San Francisco school com-
plications very seriously have begun to hint
that Japan, feeling that she has caught the
United vStates unprepared in the Pacific, is
preparing a great national humiliation for the

American people.

OW that both the Jamaica earth-
quakes— the one caused by the
trembling crust of the earth, the
other by the efforts of Governor
Swettenham to be "jocular" — have passed into

history, both the humorous and the serious side
of the event come out in clear perspective.
So far as Sir Alexander himself is concerned,
the appeal he makes to the American sense of
humor is irresistible, especially since the ex-
planation that his famous letter was meant to
be "jocular" in part. What the result might
be if the Governor ever took it into his head
to write a letter wholly jocular one can hardly
imagine. Mr. Dooley gives us one of his best
productions on the incident, and sketches the
career of the Governor during the forty years
of his official service. "Iverywhere he went,"
says Mr. Dooley, "he made friends where he
had been befure." One newspaper paragrapher,
commenting on the remark that Sir Alex-
ander's ears must be burning, observed that
that cannot be so, for a conflagration of that
size would reveal itself in a glow all along the
Southern sky-line! Still another scribe, re-
calling the fact that it was an Englishman
who said that it requires a surgical operation
to get a joke into the head of a Scotchman,
remarked that this process might well be nec-
essary for a man of any nationality if the joke
were a British joke. The same journal — the
Baltimore Sun — observes that there is in all
of us some latent force that is brought out
only under the stress of a great shock. An
earthquake shock was necessary to bring out
the jocular propensities of Sir Alexander:

"Perhaps in the early days of the world there
was a Swettenham who had the tiny germ of a
joke imbedded in his subconsciousness. For in-
numerable generations this germ had been trans-
mitted from Swettenham to Swettenham. The
germ may have had its origin at the time when
the earth had not cooled off, and may have been
introduced into the Swettenham brain by some
seismic convulsion. From that period of remote
antiquity until a few days ago no Swettenham
had been in the region of earthquakes, and the
germ had had no opportunity to respond to
the seismic call. But at last the man with the
dormant joke-germ and the earthquake met, the
joke emerged and Sir Alexander Swettenham
stood revealed to the world as the one person who
could jest in the face of earth upheavals, confla-
grations and sudden death."

C O FAR as the relations of the two govern-
^ ments are concerned, the incident was
stripped of its importance almost as soon as it
became known. Secretary Haldane, the Brit-
ish secretary of war, immediately cabled to
our secretary of state to express the gratitude
of Great Britain for the assistance Swettenham
had spurned. President Roosevelt at once an-
nounced that the incident would be regarded
by us as closed. And then, after much pry-
ing, the British government succeeded in

HE CARED MORE FOR HUMANITY THAN FOR RED TAPE
Rear Admiral Davis, whose haste to relieve suflfering at Kingston gave the Governor an epistolary fit, is an offi-
cer who has been received with deference at many of the European Courts. All that he did at Kingston has been
approved by President Roosevelt and defended by the Professor of International Law at Cambridge Umvevsity,
England.

246

CURRENT LITERATURE

SHE IS PROBABLY USED TO EARTHQUAKES

She has been married two years to Sir Alexander

Swettenham, and her fortitude and gracious way of

rendering assistance to the needy won general praise.

eliciting from Sir Alexander his belated apol-
ogy to Rear Admiral Davis and his retraction
of the offensive letter. At no time, therefore,
has the incident assumed a serious aspect so
far as the relations of the two governments
are concerned. But so far as the relations of
the two peoples are concerned, it has a more
serious side. Cordial relations between the
British and the Americans are regarded by
many as the most important of the forces that
shall determine future international relations

throughout the world. The courtship of the
United States by John Bull during the last
five or ten years has been so marked and open
as to excite rage in Europe, a coy and gentle
derision here, and impatient jealousy in Can-
ada. The selection of one of Great Britain's
foremost statesmen for ambassador to this
country is generally accepted as a further
proof of the importance attached to a good
feeling between the two countries. Now comes
the Swettenham incident, and on top of that the
report of the American refugees from King-
ston of brutal treatment by Sir Alfred Jones
and his party, and on top of that the reports
from Great Britain to American papers of the
slurring comments made in English clubs and
social gatherings upon the part played by the
American admiral.

AMITY and good-will do not seem to have
been advanced by our efforts to play the
part of the Good Samaritan in Kingston. Here
is an extract from a letter sent to the New
York Times by its London correspondent:

"If Americans think Great Britain and the
United States have been drawn closer together
because of the visit of Admiral Davis to Kings-
ton they are greatly mistaken. There is a good
deal more anti-Americanism in Great Britain to-
day than there was before the earthquake. From
the lips and pens of British men and women of
intelligence and refinement have come expres-
sions relating to the Kingston incident that have
caused some of us to hark back to that remark
of Bishop Potter that there was a lot of gush
in British protestations of friendship for America.
If it is desirable to have good feeling between
the British and American peoples, it is devoutly
to be wished that America, on all future occa-
sions when Britishers shall be in trouble, may
leave them alone and let them wiggle out as best
they may."

The Philadelphia North American derides

Photo by Brown Bros.

THE LAND SUBSIDED
J'hotograph of Port Royal after the earthquake, showing palm trees (at the point) now partly submerged.

SWETTENHAM THE JOCULAR

247

the idea that any tension can be produced
between the two nations by this incident, but
it proceeds at length to observe that Swetten-
ham is a type of Englishman perfectly and
painfully familiar to Americans, — the type of
those "who hate everything that is not Eng-
lish, and who reserve their bitterest animosity
for Americans. It says further:

"Americans have not forgotten, even if long
ago they have forgiven, the various methods in
which these feelings were venomously expressed.
We may recall how Mrs. Trollope, and many
other British literary tramps came over here,
looked at us for a while and returned to scoff at
and fib about us. Men are living who remember
how Dickens, as perfect a specimen of the British
cad as ever lived, accepted our profuse and kindly
hospitality and then filled volumes with scurrility
in pretending to tell about us.

"Swettenham represents the class that was re-
sponsible for these things. The old envy and
jealousy and hatred rankle in his British soul.
He is 'down on' Americans in a broad general
way, because they are foreigners; he sickens at
the thought that they are going to dig the Pana-
ma Canal; he boiled over when Admiral Davis
tried to give American food and American medi-
cine and American good treatment to Jamaican
subjects of King Edward who were hungry and
sick and suffering. The type is constant. Swet-
tenhams will exist and hold place and be perfectly
absurd and singularly unpleasant so long as the
British islands are inhabited."

"'X'HE fact is," says the New York Evening
*■ Journal, "that England doesn't like
America very much, and it is also true, which
we should also remember, that America doesn't
like England very much." • The New York
Sun thinks that the situation was saved by
Governor Swettenham's epistolary ambition.
It says :

"If Governor Swettenham's dismissal of the
visiting Yankees had been unattended by the in-

THE GOVERNOR WHO DISSEMBLES HIS LOVE

Sir Alexander Swettenham is a Cambridge graduate
and has written a book of merit on the Malay archi-
pelago. The hardest thing he ever did, it is safe to
say, was to write his apology to Admiral Davis for his
"partly jocular" letter to the latter.

comparable portrait and self-revelation which he
has seen fit to give to us and to the rest of the
world the consequences might have been more
serious. . . . If the Governor's personal
equation had remained undisclosed to us there
might have resulted some strain to the tie that
binds. As it is, the ardent literary impulse of the
Governor and his uncontrolled desire to send
Rear Admiral Davis and the rest of the Yankees
away from Kingston feeling mean and cheap has
solved the situation. After a single perusal of

Photo by Underwuuii & Uiidcrwoud

THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER IN JAMAICA

Camp of earthquake refugees on the race-track at Kingston. The American flag marks a camp of a pa-
triotic American who wishes to make Governor Swettenham nappy whenever he comes that way.

248

CURRENT LITERATURE

ANOTHER SALOME

— Opper in N. Y. American.

the letter of Governor Swettenham to Rear Ad-
miral Davis sensible Americans will understand
the author about as well as if they had known
that extraordinary person all their lives."

The Baltimore Sun is gratified over the
common sense view taken of the affair on
both sides the sea, and it recalls an historical
incident of another sort that occurred in the
same part of the v^rorld a generation ago:

"It is worthy of remembrance that about 33
years ago, namely, on October 31, 1873, a British
warship sailed over precisely the same course [as

that taken by Admiral Davis] but in the opposite
direction, to rescue Americans. The Virginius
had been captured by the Spanish, carried into
the harbor of Santiago, where Captain Fry and 52
of his men were condemned and executed with
scarcely the form of a trial. Just as the re-
mainder were being marched to death the British
warship Niobe, commanded by Sir Lambton Lor-
raine, sailed into port. As soon as Captain Lor-
raine learned what was going on he swung his
ship about, broadside on, and sent a brief note to
the Spanish Governor, informing him that if the
execution went on he would open fire upon the
city. The lives of these Americans were saved
by the friendly act of this British naval officer,
and at a time like this it is well to remember
these things."

'X'O EXPRESS in adequate words the sense
■'• of astonishment with which the people
of England read the Swettenham letter is,
declares the London Telegraph, most pro-
American of British dailies, impossible. "We
can as little hope," it adds, "to convey to the
citizens of the United States a just impres-
sion of the pain and utter regret with which
national opinion upon this side of the Atlantic
regards one of the most deplorable and unin-
telligible incidents in the record of Anglo-
American relations." Nor can the jingo and
bellicose London Mail dissent from the Tele-
graph's condemnation of Swettenham. "He
has dealt with the situation in an altogether
wrong frame of mind," it avers, "and com-
promised the credit of his country in so doing.
American help had been freely and generously
tendered. It shoyld have been accepted with
equal generosity of spirit and acknowledged
with the fullest courtesy. France did not re-
fuse the help of the British cruisers when they
were sent to Bizerta under very similar cir-
cumstances." The daily to which Britons re-
fer colloquially as "the thunderer," namely the
London Times, has its rod in pickle for Swet-
tenham, too. "Perhaps the most charitable
explanation of the extraordinary wording of
Sir Alexander Swettenham's communication,"
it conjectures, "is that he was overwrought
and unstrung by the terrible events of the
week." One temporizer, the London Stand-
ard, which is so fond of halting between two
opinions, hesitated long before finally permit-
ting its evening edition to remark that "from
whatever point of view one regards his action.
Sir Alexander Swettenham committed a gross
and unpardonable blunder." But, it adds, we
must remember the shock he suffered.

THE SECOND SHOCK
— Bartholomew in Minneapolis Journal.

IT IS true, according to the Liberal and an-
* ti-imperialist London Tribune, that the
Swettenham letter is "sharply written" and in-

THE BRITISH ON THEIR JAMAICA GOVERNOR

249

Photo by Underwood & Underwood

WHERE THE AMERICAN REFUGEES WAITED AND WATCHED
From the yard of the Hamburg-American docks, the refugees appealed for assistance to Sir Alfred Jones, whose
yacht was moored near by. Sir Alfred says they were treated with great consideration by him, but the refugees
didn't become 5 ware of it, and they united in a statement charging brutal treatment and giving specifications.

correct. "It betrays some of that tendency to
smartness which came in with the new diplo-
macy a few years ago and was productive of
trouble." But the daily hoped against hope
that later details would put a new face upon
the incident only to find, in the end, that hope
deferred maketh the heart sick. "A regret-
table incident," is its summing up. The Lon-
don Morning Post, ever alarmed because the
British navy is too small, blames everything
upon the weakness of his Majesty's squadrons
in West Indian waters. The lone British war-
ship in these wastes was a thousand miles
from the spot where it was needed. "Is it
likely that the American squadron would have
acted as it did only that Admiral Davis under-
stood our deplorable weakness ? The presence
of a British warship or a white garrison would

have enabled the governor courteously to de-
cline any American help."

npHE letter which caused all this hubbub
•*■ has already obtained a reading so wide
as to make even the circulation statistics of
"Uncle Tom's Cabin" seem meager in com-
parison. But it invites repeated perusal for
the same reason that induced Johnson to read
Cervantes again and again — for its language.
Sir Alexander, surrounded, one must remem-
ber, by the same sort of turmoil and panic and
distress that followed in the wake of the San
Francisco disaster, paused from the arduous
labors of relief long enough to indite as fol-
lows:

"Dear Admiral, — Thanks very much for your
letter, for your kind call, and for all the assistance

250

CURRENT LITERATURE

you have given and offered us. While I most
heartily appreciate your very generous offers of
assistance, I feel it my duty to ask you to re-em-
bark the working party and all parties which your
kindness prompted you to land. If in considera-
tion of the American Vice-Consul's assiduous at-
tentions to his family at his country house the
American consulate should need guarding, in
your opinion, altho he is present, and it was
unguarded an hour ago, I have no objection to
your detailing a force for the sole ^purpose of
guarding it. But the party must not .have fire-
arms or anything more offensive than;, clubs or
staves for this function. I find that your working
party this morning was helping Mr. Crosswell to
clean his store. Mr. Crosswell is delighted that
this work should be done free of cost, and if your
Excellency will remain long enough I am sure all
private owners will be glad of the services of the
navy to save them expense.

"It is no longer a question of humanity. All
those who are dead died days ago, and the work
of giving them burial is merely one ,of conve-
nience. I shall be glad to accept delivery of the
safe which the alleged thieves took possession of.
The American Vice-Consul has no knowledge of
it. The store is close to a sentry post, and the
officer in charge of the post professes ignorance
of the incident. I believe the police surveillance
of the city is adequate for the protection of pri-
vate property. ^

"I may remind your Excellency that not long
ago it was discovered that thieves lodged and
pillaged the house of a New York millionaire dur-
ing his absence in the summer. But this would
not have justified a British admiral in landing an
armed party to assist the New York police.

"I have the honor to be, with profound grati-

tude and the highest respect, your obedient
servant,

"(Signed) Alexander Swettenham,

(Governor.)"

nnWO things had aroused the ire of the
•■• governor. He had requested that Ad-
miral Davis's ships fire no salute, lest the
panic of the populace be increased. The sa-
lute had been fired. Again, the admiral, as
now seems certain, had not waited for the
governor's permission before landing a small
force of his men. From the official statement
made by Secretary Metcalf, after the receipt
of the full text of the correspondence, it seems
that six men were landed "for the purpose of
guarding and securing the archives of the
American consulate," and another party of
ten men "for the purpose of clearing away
the wreckage." There is nothing to indicate
that permission was asked up to this time.
The next body of men, fifty in number, was
landed "upon the earnest entreaty of the
colonial secretary and the inspector of police
to prevent the escape of prisoners in the pen-
itentiary," the governor being at the time ab-
sent from the city and the secretary speaking
for him. As for the salute, that was at once
explained by the admiral as the result of a
misunderstanding in the transmission of his
orders, and he apologized for it. The land-

^^■^^^H

Photo by Underwood & Underwood

"HOME TS WHERE MOTHER IS"

Camp of refugees on the race-track, at Kingston, established a few days after the earth had its ague-fit
and shook the city to pieces, burying nine hundred victims in the ruins.

RECORDS OF ADMIRAL DAVIS AND GOVERNOR SWETTENHAM 251

Photo bv Brown B

JUST ONE TELEGRAPH POLE WAS LEFT ERECT

And from the top of it this photograph was taken, giving a view of Port Royal street, Kingston, after the
earthquake. Evidently it was a bad day for brick buildings.

ing of the first two squads of men, before the
permission of the authorities was received,
furnishes the real subject of debate on. the
question of international law.

/^UR government maintains that the land-
^^ ing was according to precedent in such
cases. President Roosevelt has officiallly ex-
pressed to Admiral Davis the "heartiest com-
mendation of all that he did at Kingston."
Dr. Jonn Westlake, professor of international
law at Cambridge University, declares that
there is nothing in international law to for-
bid the landing even of an armed force to
assist in the work of rescue in the cause of
humanity. The remark of the London Morn-
ing Post, that "one does not expect an exact
knowledge of diplomatic etiquet or interna-
tional law from a sailor," drew a response from
an Oxford Don, Prof. Louis Dyer, to the effect
that Admiral Davis, son of a rear-admiral as
eminent as himself, and one of the members of
the international commission that settled the
North Sea incident and averted war between
Great Britain and Russia several years ago,
probably knew as much about international

law as a Swettenham whose official experience
is the result of executive service in British
Guiana, the Straits Settlements and the isles
of the Caribbean. Davis has been welcomed
with deference at the courts of three Euro-
pean potentates. Swettenham has shown his
mettle in the mastery of Chinese coolies and
the subjugation of tropical blacks. Davis is
pre-eminently a scientific officer, having been
connected with the various expeditions for the
determination of the difference of longitude
by means of submarine experiment. Swetten-
ham, with a stick in his hand and a crew of na-
tives in front of him, looks like a schoolmaster
of the old-fashioned kind converted into a
tropical despot. His record as "an empire-
builder" is described in glowing colors by his
friends, however, who point out that he is a
Cambridge graduate, that he has served forty
years in the colonial service, that he has pub-
lished a book of much merit on the Malayan
Archipelago. He makes enemies by the score,
but even they concede his fairness, his justice,
his disinterestedness and his ability in hand-
ling men of a backward race. He is sixty-
one years of age, a non-smoker, a non-drinker,

252

CURRENT LITERATURE

Photo by Brown Bros.

STRUGGLING TO DISBURSE THE ROCKE-
FELLER MILLIONS

Rev. Wallace Buttrick, D.D., secretary and execu-
tive officer of the General Education Board, is a Bap-
tist preacher, and has been general agent of the Slater
Fund for several years. He was in the railway mail
service for five years.

a great believer in pedestrian exercise, a splen-
did horseman, a fine sportsman and a lavish
host. Such is the gentleman as presented by
his friends.

TT/ ITHOUT doubt, however, Governor
^ Swettenham was fully prepared to find
fault with anything the Americans might do in
Jamaica and to distrust their motives. It was
Swettenham to whom President Roosevelt re-
ferred in his recent Canal message to Congress
when he wrote the following: "At present the
great bulk of the labor on the isthmus is done
by West India negroes, chiefly from Jamaica,
Barbados and the other English possessions.
One of the governors of the islands in ques-
tion has shown an unfriendly disposition to
our work, and has thrown obstacles in the way
of our getting the labor needed." The gov-
ernor's attitude to Secretary Taft in the near
past is described in Washington as outra-
geous. He is held mainly responsible for the
failure to expedite the digging of the Panama
Canal with Jamaican negro labor, and the
Kingston correspondent of the London Daily

Mail reports a conversation between him and
Admiral Davis that furnishes more light, pos-
sibly, upon the inner workings of his mind
than is to be found in all the official docu-
ments of the case :

"Gov. Swettenham — I am grateful for the aid
you have given.

"Admiral Davis — I am sorry that I am unable
to give more.

"Gov. Swettenham — I understand. It would
redound to your glory. Keep your glory at
home."

A S FOR the earthquake itself, almost lost
■**■ sight of for the time being because of
the flurry resulting from Governor Swetten-
ham's course, no such event ever happened
with timelier reference to prophecy. Long
before Kingston was transformed from the
gayest of tropical cities into a funeral pyre
bright with the flames that cost nine hundred
lives, the earthquake had been predicted with
considerable accuracy by two seismologists of
note. Dr. Joseph F. Nowack, after twenty
years' study of the laws governing "critical"
natural phenomena, predicted last year, be-
fore the assembled Academy of Sciences at
Havana, just what has happened at Kingston.
The time limit fixed by Dr. Nowack, whose
seismological researches have been encour-
aged by the Austrian government, proved cor-
rect. Not less impressive was the forecast of
that well-known student- of terrestrial phe-
nomena, Mr. Hugh Clements, an Englishman.
His prophecy of a seismological upheaval in
the West Indies specified the day of the event
and was published in the London Standard
some little time before its fulfillment. The
Clements theory is that the joint attraction of
the sun and the moon upon the earth from a
common center produces oceanic tides. These
tides cause the waves or quakes to which seis-
mologists refer as tremors of the terrestrial
crust. The Nowack theory has to do with the
growth of the abrus plant, found in Cuba and
Mexico. There is a direct relation, according
to Nowack, between the rate of growth and
the state of dryness of the abrus plant in any
given season and the atmospheric conditions
that precede an earthquake. Two Austrian
noblemen have become so impressed with the
Nowack theory that they have defrayed the
cost of its further development. Havana,
according to Dr. Nowack, will be the
next conspicuous sufferer from the series
of disturbances for which the shrinkage
of our cooling globe is responsible. The
Cuban capital, it is averred, is built upon a
submerged volcanic crater. It is the inter-

MR. ROCKEFELLER'S EDUCATIONAL TRUST

253

secting point of the two lines along which the

island will be split by an earthquake that can

not be long delayed.

*
* *

[FTEEN American gentlemen, edu-
cators, financiers, editors and pub-
licists, have suddenly found them-
selves organized into an educational
"trust," with a capital of about forty-five mil-
lion dollars. This trust is called the General
Education Board, and a few days ago it re-
ceived, without previous warning, the an-
nouncement that Mr. Rockefeller was ready to
turn over to it income-bearing securities to
the amount of $32,000,000. This sum, added
to the $11,000,000 already bestowed by the
same gentleman, makes up, according to the
Board, "the largest sum ever given by a man
in the history of the race for any social or
philanthropic purpose." This statement is
doubtless true if it be taken to refer to dona-
tions made at one time or to one organization.
Mr. Rockefeller's own mind evolved the
scheme of the General Education Board as a
medium for his philanthropic purposes, and
the plan is singularly like that which he
evolved in the financial world and which has
been so extensively imitated by financiers ever
since. It is the Standard Oil Company plan
of consolidation and concentration applied to
educational institutions. If it will work as
successfully in the latter case as it has, from
a financial point of view, in the former, we
are on the eve of a stupendous educational
development.

/CONSIDER what it is that the General
^^ Education Board is to do and how it is
to do it. It is to have an annual income of
about $2,500,000 to bestow. There are about
five hundred colleges and universities in the
country that are eligible to become the recipi-
ents of this money. The Board decides which
of these to help and which not to help. It
makes whatever tests it may see fit, and a
college must meet that test in order to be-
come a beneficiary. The Board is already
picking and choosing which of these institu-
tions shall be built up and which shall be al-
lowed to die, for it may be a difficult thing for
an institution not aided by the Board to con-
tinue an indefinite existence in competition
with those institutions that are to receive aid.
The map of the country is being studied in
order to decide (i) what sections are now
neglected and (2) what sections are over-
supplied with colleges. For instance, Fred-

.w^_

■'■ ^

^■^

iHfe^ajB^^'-

., ^ ■ ■ ■

'¥ ■ ^

EVERY SPOT MEANS A DONATION

Map on which the General Education Board keeps
tab of the educational institutions to which the Rocke-
feller (and other) donations go. Different colored
pegs indicate at a glance the different sums given and
the location of the colleges receiving them.

crick T. Gates, chairman of the Board, tells
us that one mistake that has been made here-
tofore is in the neglect of the cities. He says:

"The ancient and mistaken tradition that col-
leges, for efficiency, should be located in the deep
country has prevailed to an extent so alarming
that to-day the great centers of population and
wealth, to which the people are more and more
flocking, are almost wholly neglected in our sys-
tem of higher education. We have something like
400 colleges in this country located in small
country towns. The first work of the General
Education Board for higher education has been,
and will continue to be, to assist the great centers
of population and to make them the pivots in fact,
as they are in all true educational theory, of the
future system of higher education in this country."

Then it has been ascertained that all col-
leges, including even the large universities,
draw over fifty per cent, of their students
from a radius of one hundred miles. Con-
sequently another conclusion reached is that
where two institutions are within the same
zone one hundred miles in diameter, one should
be eliminated. This duplication, according to
Dr. Wallace Buttrick, secretary of the Board,
is quite extensive throughout the country, and
"the Board wants to overcome this." In other
words, the Board will decree, so far as it has
power, where new institutions should be lo-
cated, what standards of efficiency they ought
to conform to, what institutions are needless
and should go out of existence, what small in-
stitutions should be built up into large ones
and which should remain small. Says the
New York Tribune:

"While certain colleges will be selected for con-
tributions or endowments, forming a chain of
educational institutions across the continent,
others not so favored will be left to their fate by
the Rockefeller fund, and many of them, it is ex-

254

CURRENT LITERATURE

LIBERTY'S RIVAL

— Philadelphia Ledger.

pected, will be forced to close their doors in the
face of such strong support to their fortunate
rivals. It will become a question of the survival
of the fittest, it is said, for which it is believed a
better and higher standard of education will re-
sult. And on the maps in the William street office
of the Rockefeller fund the little colored pins will
probably seal the fate of many a college and work
out the destiny of others to prosperous ends."

'T'HE power that this educational body of
■'• fifteen men is likely to exert will not be
limited to that which attaches to the appro-
priation of two and one-half million dollars
a year. In the first place the conditions on
which the appropriations are being made re-
quire that the recipient of a donation secure
two or three times the same amount from
other sources also. So that the financial
power of the Board to carry out its compre-
hensive plans for the development of the edu-
cational system of the country is indicated by
a figure three or four times as large as the
sum it directly appropriates. Then the moral
power of the Board is likely to become domi-
nant. Says Mr. Gates:

"The Board aims to be better acquainted with
every college in the United States than is any
member of its own board of trustees. The infor-
mation at the command of the board has many
times astonished the president of a college himself
when he has come to search our files for what
we know of his institution. Not a few of the

eminent philanthropists of the country who are
constantly giving money for education are avail-
ing themselves of the information we have. Sev-
eral of the recent gifts by distinguished philan-
thropists have been made after conferring with
our secretaries."

'X'HAT is to say, other benefactors than Mr.
■■• Rockefeller are beginning to make the
Board the medium for the bestowal of their
gifts. It has already in its employ a force of
skilled experts to advise philanthropists in these
matters, and this force, it is announced, "un-
doubtedly will be increased." If its affairs are
wisely administered, it is not too much to ex-
pect that most of the benefactions to colleges
and universities in the near future will be
found flowing through this General Education
Board, and be in a large measure directed
here or there according to its decisions. When
that times comes our higher educational in-
stitutions will be as thoroly systematized and
as harmoniously and efficiently administered,
it may be hoped, as are the business affairs of
the Standard Oil or any other great trust.
But already the members of the Board are
feeling it incumbent upon them to deny that
there is any intention of interfering with the
liberties of teachers. That is quite likely, but
will it be possible, either now or hereafter, to
avert suspicion such as has persistently at-
tached itself to the Chicago University despite
numerous denials? The suggestion has al-
ready found public expression, for instance,
that the purpose of Mr. Rockefeller's large gift
is to head off, if possible, the teaching of
socialism, which is on the increase, it is said,
in a number of universities. This purpose is
disclaimed by the officers of the Board, but it
will be strange if the disclaimer silences the
charge.

*
* *

I HE discovery of Canada by Elihu
Root six weeks ago has created
something of a sensation in Eng-
land. Mr. Roosevelt's Secretary of
State, swathed in furs, skated freely among
the Canadians, whose reception of their visi-
tor recalls how Cortez was taken by the sim-
ple-minded Aztecs for a superior being. The
London Saturday Review is disgusted. "Mr.
Root was on a flapdoodle expedition," it ex-
plains, "and it would be absurd to suppose
he attached the smallest importance to the
propositions he was pouring forth. Probably
no one is more amused than Mr. Root himself
when he reads over his own bunkum the
next day. He would enjoy a hearty laugh

MR. ROOT'S DISCOVERY OF CANADA

255

over it with any intimate he could trust not
to give him away. The object of all this is
to get the Canadians out of a critical mood.
They have suffered a good deal from the
United States and they are now on their
guard. So Mr. Root had to talk them into a
good temper." That Mr. Root's demonstra-
tions of friendliness to the people among
whom he found himself quieted much sus-
picion in the native mind seems clear from
comment in the Ottawa Citizen, the Toronto
Globe and numerous other dailies which now
anticipate that sources of friction between the
Dominion and the republic will be removed
when Ambassador Bryce and Mr. Root go
over them together. But that is not at all
the idea of the London weekly just quoted.
It does not, to be sure, overlook the efficacy of
that "arrogance of the most vulgar and igno-
rant type" which, it feels confident, is the foun-
dation of Elihu's Root's personal character.
Yet it hopes much from what it describes as
"a popular feeling in Canada that no more
concessions ought to be made" to the United
States.

IT WAS to return that official visit which
* Earl Grey, Governor-General of Canada,
paid to this country a year ago that Mr. Root
became the guest of the Dominion. "For elo-
quence and broad mindedness," the London
Times assures its readers, the equal of the
speeches of the American statesman at Ot-
tawa have "seldom been heard in Canada."
Mr. Root revealed the exquisite spontaneity of
his tact, it was thought, by referring to Sir
Alexander Swettenham's gratitude for Ameri-
can aid after the earthquake in Jamaica. The
applause following Mr. Root's reference to the
cordial understanding between the French re-
public and the British empire as a guaranty of
the peace of the world was deafening. But
the hit of his trip was Mr. Root's reference to
the courage, fortitude, heroism and self-de-
votion of the men of Canada in early times.
Such a tribute from the citizen of a country
which Canada refused to join in rebellion
against Great Britain was, indeed, praise from
Sir Hubert. Everyone born and bred under
the common law of England, said Mr. Root,
and under the principles of justice and liberty
that the English-speaking races had carried
the world over must breathe freely in Canada.
"Mr. Root certainly plays the part well," com-
ments the London Saturday Review. "He
understands the emotional appeal, he knows
the value of platitude and of a great volume
of words." He counted himself happy, Mr.

THE CONCILIATOR OF THE CANADIANS

EHhu Root, Secretary of State, in the long skin coat
and round fur hat with which he assimilated himself
with the rest of the Canadian population during his
recent tour. British dailies conjecture that Mr. Root
dressed himself like this to curry favor with the
people, but the Canadian papers think he wore the furs
to keep out the cold.

Root went on to say, to be one of those who
could not be indifferent to the glories and
achievements of the race from which they
sprang; and to his pride in his own land, to
the pride that, as part of his inheritance, he
was entitled to take in England, was added
the pride he felt in this great, hardy, vigor-
ous, self-governing people of Canada, who
love justice and liberty. (Cheers from the
audience, sneers from the London Saturday
Review.) Above all, said Mr. Root, he saw
a people trained and training themselves in
discussion, which differentiates latter day civ-
ilization from all the civilizatiorwB of the past,
and must give to the civilization of our time
a perpetuity that none of the past has had.
"On one side Mr. Elihu Root's dispensation
lasting forever," says the London Saturday
Review, "and on the other the trumpery little
days of Egypt, China, Babylon, Rome."

LJOWEVER, neither Earl Grey nor the
'■ '■ Prime Minister of the Dominion, Sir
Wilfrid Laurier, took his cue from the tone
of this anti-American British weekly. There

256

CURRENT LITERATURE

was no evidence anywhere in Ottawa of any
alarm created in Canada by recent reports that
a comprehensive settlement of all outstanding
disputes with Washington is to be effected by
London regardless of Dominion protests. The
most critical of all the questions at issue, ac-
cording to the Canadian press, is still the an-
cient quarrel over the respective rights of all
parties in the fisheries. Earl Grey furnished
Mr. Root, during the latter's stay at Ottawa,
with a copy of the debates on this fisheries
question in the Canadian House of Commons.
Mr. Root affirmed in one of his speeches that
he had been much impressed by "the thought-
ful, temperate and statesmanlike tone" dis-
played by the legislators. He was sure that
whatever conclusions Parliament reached
would be dictated by a sincere, intelligent
and right-minded determination to fulfil their
duty as representatives towards the people
whose rights they were bound to maintain and
protect. Such language has set the Canadian
press wondering whether the "joint high
commission," appointed to settle so many dis-
putes in 1898, but which reached a deadlock
over the Alaska boundary, may reconvene.
That commission was never dissolved. Tech-
nically, it stands adjourned until the ar-
rival of a moment sufficiently psychological
for Washington, Ottawa and London to seize
simultaneously.

nPHAT sore controversy between Canada
■■• and the United States regarding the dis-
tribution of the water powers derivable from
the boundary lakes and rivers is said to have
been aggravated in the past by the influence
of great electrical companies in the Senate
at Washington. Sir Wilfrid Laurier's gov-
ernment did not mend matters by its some-
what sudden abrogation recently of the pos-
tal convention between Canada and the
United States. That step was taken, it seems,
at the solicitation of publishing interests in
London. American periodicals were too per-
vasive in the Dominion. The population was
undergoing Americanization in consequence.
Sir Wilfrid has redressed the balance of post-
age in favor of London periodicals. The most
serious of the month's reports, from an
American point of view, relates to Sir Wil-
frid's desire, or alleged desire, to withdraw
the privilege of participation in the Canadian
coast trade from the ships of the United
States. The question of reciprocity with
Canada, which used to come up daily in one
form or another, seems, from what the To-
ronto Globe hints, to have entered a phase of

obscuration. It is nevertheless clear to the
London News that American opinion in favor
of better trade relations with Canada is
steadily growing stronger. But Mr. Roose-
velt has still to declare himself categorically
on a matter which divides his own party.
Canada appreciates the President's position.

17 VEN Senator Lodge, who once thought
*— * the reciprocity proposal "an insult to the
Republican party," and who is cordially de-
tested throughout Newfoundland as the per-
verter of the presidential mind on the sub-
ject of herring, announced not long since that
he is "in favor of the negotiation of a reci-
procity treaty between the United States and
Canada advantageous to both countries."
High protectionists thereupon flocked towards
Washington. Remonstrations were directed
to Roosevelt against any relaxation of sched-
ules. But Mr. Root, according to a report
in the Canadian dailies, did broach the sub-
ject of reciprocity. If so, Sir Wilfrid prob-
ably explained that times have changed since
those days when he was glad to say
of reciprocity that "if the United States
should make an advance we owe it to our own
self-respect to meet them in a fair and gen-
erous spirit." A few weeks back the Canadian
Prime Minister told his fellow citizens "they
would have no reciprocity in trade for many
years" so far as the United States is con-
cerned. The London Saturday Review finds
in this utterance the only consolation sug-
gested by Mr. Root's trip to Ottawa. "Trade
or tariff reciprocity between Canada and the
United States," it says, "would be gravely
prejudicial to the commercial interests of
the British Empire. More than that, it would
make the consolidation of the empire impos-
sible, and might easily be the first step in its
dissolution."^ Until now, we read further,
Washington has been unwilling to relax any
schedules in the Dominion's favor. "The
plan was by keeping Canada out of all trade
advantages to put on the screws so severely
as to shake Canada's British allegiance." The
plot was foiled. Mr. Root went to Ottawa
too late. Canada can dispense with his rec-
iprocity now.

*
* *

HAT ails our railroads? From al-
most every point of the compass
complaints of inefficiency, of sched-
ules disregarded, freight blockaded,
trains wrecked and lives lost have come with-
in the last few weeks in surprising frequency,

THE AILMENTS OF OUR RAILROADS

257

as if for the express delectation of "muck-
rakers" in search of a new job. Many of
the stories of insufficient service in the North-
west may be put down to the exceptionally
hard winter in that region; but the weather
does not account for the story of 1,500 car-
loads of coal held up at Minneapolis because of
a dispute between the railroad and the con-
signees, nor for the 4,000 empty cars said to
be standing a few weeks ago on side tracks
in Kansas City, nor for passenger trains on
Southern roads twelve hours or more behind
schedule time day after day, nor for the ap-
parent increase in the number of railroad
wrecks. "A freight blockade of enormous
proportions" is the way James J. Hill de-
scribes the general railway situation in the
country. "Knocking" the railroads has now
become the fashion in the press, and it seems
as if the railroad men themselves have joined
the corps of "knockers." The traffic manager
of one of the transcontinental lines is reported
to have told the Interstate Commerce Com-
mittee recently: "We are short of both cars
and locomotives. A year ago all the traffic
managers urged the purchase of more cars
and locomotives, but the presidents of the
roads insisted that the traffic at that time had
reached high tide and that rolling stock was
unnecessary."

PRESIDENT FINLEY, of the Southern
■*■ Railway, tells of cars and locomotives
contracted for in 1905 and not yet delivered.
President Stickney, of the Chicago & Great
Western, apprehensively points out that the
average railway dividends in 1905 were but
3.02 per cent., and that a decrease of rates of
one mill per ton per mile will wipe out the divi-
dends on the strongest roads, and put into
bankruptcy most of the minor lines in com-
petitive territory east of the Missouri. And
the first vice-president of the New York Cen-
tral, W. C. Brown, in a letter recently made
public, warns all of us of moderate means not
to invest any money in railroad securities at
the present time. He writes :

"I do not think you or any other man of ordi-
nary prudence would for a moment think of in-
vesting money in a business against which every
man's hand, from the President down, seems to
be raised, and in the defense of which few men
hoping for political preferment dare raise their
voices. I do not at the present time own a share
of railroad stock as an investment, and, in fact,
have never owned any stock of this character.
Such money as I have been able to accumulate in
nearly thirty years of business life is invested in
farms, in banking stock, in manufacturing enter-
prises, and the least profitable investment I have

of this nature pays a better return than the best
railroad stock in the United States to-day, based
on the actual cost of the railroad, what it would
cost to reproduce it, or the market value of its
securities. The only people who can afford to in-
vest money in railroad bonds or stock are those
whose means are large enough to make an invest-
ment attractive which gives a comparatively low
return, but which is reasonably safe."

'T'HE point which Mr. Brown and other rail-
road officials who are joining in this
sort of talk wish to make is that the public
hostility against the roads is responsible for
their deplorable condition. Says Mr. James J.
Hill, in a letter that has attracted general at-
tention :

"It is not by accident that railroad building has
declined to its lowest mark within a generation, at
the very time when all other forms of activity have
been growing most rapidly. The investor declines
to put his money into enterprises under the ban of
unpopularity, and even threatened by individuals
and political parties with confiscation or transfer
to the state. This feeling must be removed and
greater confidence be mutually established if any
considerable portion of the vast sum necessary is
to be available for the work."

Vice-President Brown makes an appeal to
the public for fair play and urges President
Roosevelt to issue a similar appeal. Not only
railroad interests but all corporate interests
are suffering from "indiscriminate" attacks
upon them. He writes:

"Personally, I believe that the attacks on nearly
every class of great corporate interests in this
country are commencing to. bear their legitimate
and inevitable fruit, and that already we can be-
gin to see the slowing down of the wheels, and
that within eighteen months from this time the
chill which the commerce of the country will have
received will make possible a very substantial re-
duction in Mr. Hill's figures. ...

"I do not wish to be understood as justifying
any wrongdoing on the part of railroads or other
corporations, but while the offenses have been
local and occasional, the condemnation has been
universal and indiscriminate; and while I believe
such abuses and hurtful practices as did exist
have been stopped, the prejudice and condemna-
tion continue and will continue until the President
makes an appeal for fair and reasonable treatment
for them. Such an appeal would clear the atmos-
phere and restore confidence as nothing else
can do."

T ITTLE effect from this and similar ap-
■*— ' peals is as yet discernible in the tone of
the press. Not the hostility of the public but
the poor judgment or rapacity of railway
officials themselves is the cause of the present
condition, if most of the newspapers diagnose
the case correctly. Mr. Hill's statistics show-
ing but 21 per cent, increase in mileage in the
last ten years, 23 per cent, increase in pas-

258

CURRENT LITERATURE

senger cars, 35 per cent, in locomotives and
45 per cent, in freight cars, while during the
same period the number of passengers has in-
creased 95 per cent, and the freight mileage
has increased 118 per cent., is construed by
the New York Journal of Commerce as evi-
dence of bad judgment on the part of railway
officials. It says that it has been the deliber-
ate policy of the roads to "condense their
traffic," by increasing the power of locomo-
tives and the capacity of freight cars, and to
run trains at shorter intervals, rather than to
increase the track mileage. This policy had
much to justify it in 1895, but it has been car-
ried too far and the country is now suffering
from the error of judgment. It adds:'

"We do not believe, that the 'ban of unpopu-
larity' has anything to do with it or that the in-
vestor has been any more indisposed to put his
money into new trackage, where it was needed,
than into new equipment. Of 'that feeling' there
is not the slightest evidence. When new capital
has been sought the boards of directors have de-
termined the use to which it was to be put, and
have made whatever discrimination has been made

against additional construction. The investor has
not been influenced by the distinction. If con-
struction has not kept pace with equipment the
companies are responsible and not the public.
. . . If greater confidence needs to be 'mutually
established,' the railroads are responsible for the
need and will have to do their part in the process
of rehabilitation. It cannot be done by acquiring
huge values in mining property and using their
resources in accumulating each other's stocks,
'cutting melons' and watering stocks to be en-
riched by future earrangs or marking up dividends
for stock market effect, instead of turning their
resources above a fair return to the investor into
needed construction, equipment, terminal facilities
and effective systems for expediting traffic."

Another conservative paper, the Philadel-
phia Ledger, places the blame upon the fren-
zied finance methods of the men who dominate
the railroad systems of the country. It re-
marks: "If all the railroads of the country
had been controlled, in these later years, by
railroad men, and had not been made mere
counters in a vast game of speculation, it is
conceivable that they would now be in better
condition to carry on their business."

WHAT THE PRESIDENT PROPOSES TO DO TO THE RAILROADS

— Donahy in Cleveland Plain Dealer.

CASUALTIES ON THE AMERICAN RAILWAY

259

jV^ORE radical journals, such as the New
*-^^ York Press, the Philadelphia North
American, the New York World and the
Hearst papers, are more caustic in their criti-
cism. The World thinks the gravest railroad
evil has been discrimination, and that were it
not for secret preferentials and a consequent
building up of commercial monopolies the rail-
road business would now be in a healthy con-
dition. The Sun (New York) comes to the
defense of the railways, and finds their present
plight to be a result of federal interference.
It speaks ominously of the future:

"Where are they to get the money to buy the
additional trackage, the need of which is now so
painfully apparent ; the money for additional 'roll-
ing stock; the money for more motive power, and
the money for enlarged terminals? The pressure
to acquire all these is the most acute that has ever
existed in our railroad history. How can the
money be forthcoming in the presence of the de-
structive plans of the Federal Government? What
is the prospect for the wage earners? As a highly
privileged class they have some interest in know-
ing whence these things are to come. The appar-
ent prosperity of the present must give way be-
fore the certain paralysis of the railroads. As it
is, we see no signs of building the new trackage.
Indeed, we are disturbed by the ominous fact that,
in spite of the well-known and obvious conditions,
the market for steel rails is slackening. It could

not possibly do so if the railroads were doing
what under normal circumstances they could have
no choice but do."

CEVERAL magazine articles on the railway
*^ question have attracted unusual atten-
tion. Charles E. Russell is the author of one
of these, entitled "The Record of the Rail-
roads for Nineteen Days," that appeared in
the final number of Ridgway's. He deals
with the casualty statistics for the first nine-
teen days of January, and then turns to the
casualty figures for the last few years on the
railways of this country. Great Britain and
France. His figures show one passenger out
of 1,375,855 killed on American roads in 1905,
and but one out of 7,223,024 killed in Great
Britain. In the Same year one passenger out
of 70,554 was injured in America, and but
one out of 380,641 in Great Britain. What is
still more portentous, the chances of a pas-
senger in America being killed have increased
^40 per cent, in nine years, and his chance of
being injured have increased 20 per cent.
Mr. Russell's comment is caustic. Here is a
part of it:

"In the nine years in which these slaughters be-
yond the record of any modem battlefield have

'DO YOU KNOW, THEODORE, WE'RE GETTING BETTER ACQUAINTED EVERY DAY!"

— Donahy in Cleveland Plain Dealer.

26o

CURRENT LITERATURE

been piling up, there has been injected into the
American railroad system at least $2,000,000,000
of watered stocks, and it is for the sake of this
fictitious, illegitimate and baseless speculation that
these lives have been lost and these persons man-
gled. It is for the sake of this gambling that your
life is exposed to all these risks every time you
travel on an American railroad train. It is for
the sake of high finance and the swollen fortunes
of Chancellor Day's adoration that all this need-
less blood is spilt."

One defect in Mr. Russell's figures he does
not seem to be conscious of. The comparisons
he makes between different countries and be-
tween different years lack a material ele-
ment because he does not show the mileage
figures. The railway men insist on the falsity
of such comparisons for that reason. It is
evident, they say, that if American railroads
carry passengers ten times the distance, on
an average, that British passengers are car-
ried, then, other things being equal, the in-
juries and deaths on American roads would
naturally be ten times as great. This feature
of the case Mr. Russell ignores entirely.

A NOTHER severe arraignment of the rail-
•**• roads is made by Dr. Albert Shaw, edi-
tor of The Review of Reviews. Dr. Shaw,
by the vvay, is a close personal friend of Presi-
dent Roosevelt, and is also one of the fifteen
men of the General Board of Education in
whose hands Mr. Rockefeller's recent big
donation was placed. Unless, he remarks,
railway conditions now prevalent change soon
for the better the advocates of government
ovmership will be able to point "to the com-
plete breaking down of efficiency in the actual
business of transportation in this country."
The mismanagement of insurance companies,
he thinks, has been "a mere passing trifle"
compared with that of railway companies.
He sees "very great" objections to public
ownership, but "it would be better than the
indefinite continuance of an irresponsible and
uncontrolled private management in the in-
terest of a ring of plutocrats." It is now "the
most slovenly of all our great business or-
ganizations, whereas it ought to be the most
precise, methodical and alert." Further:

"There are vast networks of railroads in this
country where it is a needless expense to print
timetables, because there* is no longer any such
thing as the operation of trains on schedule.
There are sections of the country where the rail-
roads are refusing to receive freight for shipment,
either because they cannot supply the cars or can-
not see any reasonable prospect of having them
conveyed to the point of destination. It is true
that there has been rapid growth of population
and traffic in the West, but this recent growth

has been nothing like so rapid relatively as was
that of the seventies and eighties. The railroads
have had plenty of warning and abundance of
opportunity to keep well abreast of the develop-
ment of the country. No condemnation of their
failure to do this is likely to be too drastic or to
state the facts with serious exaggeration. Even
the great Eastern trunk lines, serving a country
that has been wealthy and prosperous for two
generations, have come far short of showing rea-
sonable foresight and "due attention to the strict
requirements of a legitimate transportation busi-
ness. One or two fast trains to Chicago, — at the
expense of general demoralization of all the re-
maining volume of passenger business — have
been about the only thing to which the managers
of these roads could point as an example of en-
terprise."

The trouble with the roads, in Dr. Shaw's
opinion, is that they "have been used for mak-
ing a set of individuals enormously rich at the
expense of the country's prosperity."

A LL this is in the way of castigation and
■*^ warning. Remedies for this condition of
affairs are not as abundant as the reasons
given for it. The advocates of government
ownership are, indeed, the only ones who are
positive and specific in speaking of general
remedies. An interesting contribution to their
side of the question appears in The Arena
(January) by Alfred Russell Wallace, D.C.L.,
LL.D., the noted British scientist and radical
social reformer. Dr. Wallace has put before
the people of Great Britain and now puts be-
fore the people of America a method of ac-
quisition of the railways by the nation found-
ed, he says, "upon a great principle of ethics
which, when it is thoroly grasped, is seen to
solve many problems and to clear the way to
many great reforms in the interest of the peo-
ple at large." We quote further:

"This principle is, that the unborn can have,
and should have, no special property-rights; in
other words that the present generation shall not
continue to be plundered and robbed in order
that certain unborn individuals shall be born rich
— shall be born with such legal claims upon their
fellow-men that, while supplied with all the nec-
essaries, comforts, and luxuries of life they need
do no useful work in return. It is not denied
that the present generation may properly do
work and expend wealth for the benefit of future
generations : that is only a proper return for the
many and great benefits we have received from
those who have gone before us. What this prin-
ciple says is, that it is absolutely unjust for our
rulers (be they a majority or minority) to com-
pel us to pay, to work, or to suffer, in order that
certain individuals yet unborn shall be endowed
— often to their own physical and moral injury —
with wealth supplied by the labor of their fellow-
men. As this is, I consider, perhaps the most
important of all ethical principles in its bearing
on political reforms and general human progress.

AUGUST BEBEL'S WATERLOO

261

THE SAD OLD MAN OF GERMANY

August Bebel, veteran leader of the Social Demo-
cratic party, sustained the worst defeat of his career
last month, when the German people reduced the rep-
resentation of his followers in the Reichstag by almost
one-half. The result will weaken Bebel in_ his conduct
of the factional struggle within the Socialist organ-
ization.

it will be well to show that it is in harmony with
the teachings of some of the greatest thinkers
of the age."

P\ R. WALLACE proceeds to quote Herbert
*-^ Spencer and Benjamin Kidd to show
that this principle is in accord with their con-
clusions, tho the application he makes of it
was not made by them. His application is as
follows :

"Having thus firmly established the principle
of not recognizing any claims to property by the
unborn, it follows that in all transfers of prop-
erty from individuals to the state we have only
to take account of persons living at the time of
the transaction, and of the public interest both
now and in the future. When therefore the gov-
ernment determines, for the public good, to take
over the whole of the railways of the Union,
there will be no question of purchase but simply
a transfer of management. All trained and
efficient employees will continue in their several
stations ; and probably their numbers will for
some time be steadily increased in order that
shorter hours of labor may be adopted and the
safety of the public be better guaranteed.

"The first step towards an equitable transfer

will be to ascertain, by an efficient and independ-
ent inquiry, the actual economic status of the
shareholders of each line, dependent largely on
the honesty and efficiency of its previous manage-
ment. As a result of this inquiry the average
annual dividends of each company or system
which have been honestly earned while keeping
up the permanent way and rolling-stock in good
repair and thoro working order, would be ascer-
tained. The amount of this average dividend
would, thereafter, be paid to every shareholder
in the respective companies during their lives, and
on their deaths would, except in special cases,
revert to the railway department of the state for
the benefit of the public."

This method of acquiring the railroads Dr.
Wallace considers more just than an outright
purchase and more beneficial to present own-
ers of stocks, who would thus be more certain
of a return on their property than they now
are or than they would be if their interest were
purchased and they had to find ways to rein-
vest the money. The question whether gov-
ernment ownership, even after it is effected,
would be desirable he does not go into at
length. He has long been convinced that it is
desirable, and the chief purpose of his article
is to show how it can be accomplished.

*
* ♦

N ALL the forty years expended by
August Bebel upon the creation of
a compact Socialist vote of three
millions out of straggling groups
of poverty-stricken wage-earners and inar-
ticulate laborers, his beloved proletariat has
never put upon him a humiliation so per-
sonal as that embodied in the final results of
the national election throughout Germany.
With his trusted lieutenants in absolute con-
trol of forces disciplined into military sub-
ordination, with ninety daily Socialist news-
papers denouncing "absolutism," "meat
famine" and "bread usury," with candidates
running in every one of the 397 election dis-
tricts (the Socialists alone were sufficiently
well organized to achieve that feat), with an
army of canvassers so vast that 3,000 of them
were concentrated in a single constituency,
Bebel, the organizer of victory, sat, on the
closing night of the struggle, like Job among
the messengers. The eighty Socialists sent to
the Reichstag some three years ago, after the
most brilliant victory achieved in the whole
history of Bebel's leadership, have been re-
duced to forty-three. Hamburg, which has
kept Bebel in the Reichstag for twenty-six
years, sent him back with a reduced majority,
altho a Socialist colleague from the same city
secured an increase of over twelve thousand
in his majority. In Breslau that brilliant fol-

262

CURRENT LITERATURE

lower of Karl Marx, Bernstein, one of the
prides of the party, lost his seat to a radical.
The failure of the Socialist effort to capture
the Berlin constituency in which stands the
imperial palace was abject. Direst of all was
the Socialist Sedan in Saxony. Three years
ago .the party swept that kingdom, carrying
all the twenty-three seats but one. This rep-
resentation is reduced one-half. Bebel's mas-
tery of his party seems a thing of the past.

npHAT Roman Catholic political party, rep-
•'• resenting the thirty-six per cent, of the
population of Germany which acknowledges
the spiritual supremacy of the Pope, returns
strengthened to the new Reichstag. Its gain
is three, making the number of its deputies
105. Pius X had a "Te Deum" sung in Rome
on the morning after the first ballots. This
triumph of the clerical German "Center," fol-
lowing the failure of the anticlerical cam-
paign in Italy and the collapse of an anti-
clerical ministry in Spain, tempers to the
Vatican the winds of adversity in France.
A Roman Catholic political organization re-
mains, therefore, the strongest party in the
parliament of the foremost Protestant nation
of continental Europe. These, explains the
Berlin Vorwdrts, are the practical results of
a gerrymander — for the political slang of
America is not unknown in the fatherland —
according to which some sixteen thousand
votes are made to elect a Roman Catholic
deputy, whereas thirty-seven thousand votes
barely suffice to get a Socialist into the Reich-
stag. But the Vorwdrts resembles Bebel in
the consternation with which it reflects that
the Roman Catholic Center is becoming demo-
cratic with a rapidity most distasteful to Em-
peror William. His Majesty's hostility has
been a trump card in many a Socialist hand.
The Center is now beginning to play it with
effect, for the conservative elements have lost
their old hold upon the clerical organization.
But the popular vote shows the same relative
stagnation in the clerical body that seems to
prevail among the Socialists. Bebel's party
did add to its vote in the country at large.
It was an increase so slight as to have all the
moral effect of a decline. The clericals had
no increase at all. An" instance of the mode
in which they conducted their campaign is
reported in the London Standard from Inner-
ingen, where the Roman Catholic priest,
Father Hecht, publicly warned his parishion-
ers that when they reached Heaven they
would be asked whether they had given their
votes to the candidate of the Church.

THE PRINCE DOFFED HIS HAT, WITH A SMILE

It was a gesture of that graceful kind for which the
German Imperial Chancellor is renowned in all the
European capitals. To hold a stick in one's hand —
the hand gloved at that — and to lift a high silk hat
from one's head at the same time is the most difficult
thing in the world to do with perfect distinction. Yet
here behold the German Imperial Chancellor, arriving
at the polls to vote the radical ticket, performing this
feat.

nPHE "only man alive who could walk on
■*■ the keyboard of a piano from the Wil-
helmstrasse to the Reichstag without sound-
ing a note," namely, the imperial Chancellor,
Prince von Biilow, emerges from the fray
like Napoleon after Austerlitz. No more will
von Biilow exploit his lively loquacity and
his incomparable felicity in the quotation of
the classics for the mere purpose of charming
away the ill-humor of the clericals in the
Reichstag. Ultra-Protestant sentiment in
Germany has been affronted by the terms
upon which the Chancellor has secured the
support of the Center heretofore, especially
when those terms were found to include a
partial repeal of legislative discrimination
against Jesuits. The Socialists on the "left"
and the agrarians and conservatives on the
"right" represented the extremes of political
thought in the Reichstag so angrily dissolved
by Emperor William. The Chancellor's
course between the parliamentary opposites
was to bait the left and conciliate the right.
The expedient proved relatively simple, altho
occasionally embarrassing owing to the sup-
port given to von Bulow by the clerical "cen-
ter." From the Reichstag that came into

THE COMING TEST OF VON BULOVV'S DIPLOMACY

263

THE HOHENZOLLERN JEWELS

The only daughter of the German Emperor, Princess
Victoria, ag^ed fourteen, is seated on the arm of the
chair, holding the hand of her mother, the German
Empress. The sixteen-year-old youth is Prince Jo-
achim, the most poetical and artistic of all the chil-
dren of the German imperial couple.

being last month it is numerically possible
for von Billow to conjure a majority without
reference to either clericals or Socialists.
This implies that in practice the Chancellor
must combine conservatives of all shades
with liberals of many shades, and effect their
harmony with radicals who detest everything
they stand for In the divine establishment of
monarchy, in the supremacy of the military
over every other authority in the state, and
in the investiture of themselves with the
higher offices of the administration, the con-
servatives behold the great principles which
the contest at the polls has vindicated. They
have some eighty seats. The liberals, or, rather,
the "national liberals," have very little in
common with the party so designated in Eng-
land. They are protectionists in the main,
very largely conservative, not to say Tory,
altho there is a relatively progressive faction,
and they are suspected of a secret dislike of
universal suffrage. They have fifty-five votes
in the new Reichstag, a slight gain.

THE ISSUE IN THE GER:> vN ELECTION

The territorial aristocrat had to choose between his
beloved fatherland and his beloved pork.

— Munich Simplicissmms.

pXQUISITE, indeed, must be the art of
'—* the Prince's diplomacy if he is to har-
monize the policy of so rigid a pillar of mon-
archy as the conservative leader, Count von
Kanitz, with that loud Herr Bassermann,
who is to the National Liberal party what
Hector was among the sons of Priam. The
pair might be found to agree in a scorn of
those radicals with whom they must be
brought into line somehow. German radical-
ism, or "Freisinn," as the political jargon of
the fatherland has it, has made greater gains,
relatively, than any of the other seventeen
political organizations that went into last
month's battle. Their membership of forty-
six in the new Reichstag and the interest
taken in their policy by Prince von Bitlow —
he voted for a radical candidate himself —
point to a bright parliamentary future for the
only party in Germany advocating principles
with which the name of our own Lincoln is
associated. German radicals have hitherto
been sundered into somewhat discordant
groups. These united on a common platform
last year. How permanent their cohesion can
be when the conservatives who despise their
democratic ideas invite them to stultify their
convictions depends upon von Bulow's com-
prehension of the dilemma he will then be in.
The imperial Chancellor had threatened, dur-
ing the campaign that preceded the great So-
cialist setback, that Reichstag after Reich-
stag would be dissolved, if necessary, until
a "national" majority evolved itself. It has

264

CURRENT LITERATURE

turned out as "national" in von Biilow's sense
as even William II, who wore a grave face
on election day, could have hoped.

p OLITICAL campaigning of the energetic
description to which the imperial Chan-
cellor openly resorted within the past few
weeks constitutes a departure from many Ger-
man traditions. Von Biilow's predecessors in
office held more aloof. They would have been
rendered dumb by the bold references of their
successor to his sovereign. William II, de-
clared von Biilow in one address, aims at no
personal absolutism in his government to-
day. His imperial Majesty, adds that Bis-
marckian mouthpiece, the Hamburger Nach-
richten, has been profoundly impressed by
German criticism of his autocratic ideals. He
is determined that in future no act or word
of his shall give point to further discontent
on that score. The imperial will subordinates
itself to constitutional limitations. This
change of heart took shape in the edict of last
month modifying the rigors of the punish-
ment inflexibly meted out to all in Germany
who refer disrespectfully to William 11. His
imperial Majesty is graciously pleased to de-
cree that only those persons shall suffer the
penalties of the law against lese-majeste who
speak scornfully of himself with premedita-
tion and evil intent, and not merely from
ignorance, thoughtlessness or haste. As
Emperor William thus broke with his own
past, the imperial Chancellor contravened all
Prussian official tradition by haranguing a
crowd beneath the palace windows. The elec-
tion returns were pouring in, and Bebel was
in a back room at the other end of the capital
staying himself with flagons.

r^ REAT as is the personal triumph of the
^^ result for the Emperor, gratifying as
must be the verification of his political
prophecies to Prince von Bulow, it is to Herr
Bemhard Dernburg (who, to the astonish-
ment of Germany, was made director of the
colonial department last year) that one must
turn to find the Wellington of Bebel's Water-
loo. Dernburg was undoubtedly a burning
issue in this contest, whose issue many radi-
cals deem an endorsement of the most anom-
alous figure in the whole range of Ger-
many's official life. The conspicuous place he
held in the battles of the month induced the
Conservative Kreuz Zeitung to beg von Biilow
that Dernburg be relegated to the background.
He is hateful to that sheet, hateful to the Prus-
sian territorial lords who have witnessed the

"I KNEW A MAN AND HE HAD SIX SONS"
This quotation from Walt Whitman might have been
applied to the German Emperor, who is here revealed
marching through the streets of Berlin in line with
five of the striplings who have blessed his union with
Princess Victoria of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-
Augustenburg. The youngest and sixth son of the
couple has not yet attained military rank of sufficient
dig^nity to parade thus splendidly.

rise of a wealthy merchant class with horror,
hateful to the court cliques who loath the
business man in public office. Bernhard Dern-
burg began the world vulgarly enough as a
clerk in a Berlin business office. His record
was made additionally disreputable by a period

FROM BISMARCK TO BULOW
A bigger task for a smaller man.

— London Punch.

CAN CLEMEN CEAU STAND THE STRAIN?

265

of service in a New York financial establish-
ment. Returning with a comprehensive
American experience, Dernburg had the ill-
luck to rise from the post of foreign corre-
spondent in a Berlin banking establishment to
the management of the concern, which assisted
in the rehabilitation of the Northern Pacific
Railroad. Another great enterprise which
disgraced Dernburg in the eyes of the con-
servative aristocracy was the successful liqui-
dation and reorganization of those Berlin
mortgage companies which were involved in
the collapse of the notorious Pommern Bank
some five or six years ago. If the wretched
man had not always been actively engaged in
business , if he were not essentially self-made,
if one of his great-grandfathers had not been
a Jew, the shock of his appointment to succeed
a hereditary Prince von Hohenlohe — in direct
descent from Everard, Duke of Franconia —
would have seemed less American in those as-
pects which rendered it a stench in the nos-
trils of all Prussian junkers.

T HE direct challenge of this appointment of
'^ a bank director of Jewish lineage to so
exalted a post under the imperial govern-
ment was at once taken up by the aristocratic
bureaucracy, whose supremacy, hitherto un-
questioned, had received a tremendous blow,
AH the forces of agrarian conservatism and of
violent protection in tariff matters and of au-
tocratic reaction in political policy flew into
revolt against such open recognition of the
importance of Germany's commercial classes
in official life. Demburg's campaign addresses
in behalf of the German colonies were re-
sented as conferring too much prominence
upon so low a person. It was hinted by vari-
ous agrarians that in his dubious past, that is,
before he became Director of Colonial Affairs,
Dernburg belonged to the most advanced of
the radical groups — that Freisinnige Vereini-
gung which boldy advocates many of the same
democratic abominations to which the moral
and mental perversion of the American people
is solely attributable. Dernburg is further-
more the son of a journalist, Herr Friedrich
Dernburg, who many years ago edited the
Berlin National Zeitung, and who impeni-
tently contributes to the diffusion of progres-
sive ideas in the Berlin Tageblatt. The Tage-
hlatt, which probably has a larger circulation
than any other political daily in the capital of
the Hohenzollerns, happens to be the leading
organ of the party to which the colonial direc-
tor is accused of having attached himself
when accumulating his considerable fortune.

IN SACRIFICING a business income ex-
ceeding sixty thousand dollars annually
for an office of which the yearly salary is less
than four thousand dollars, Herr Bernhard
Dernburg enabled Emperor William to make
the boldest experiment of his reign. Dern-
burg does not seem to have attained even the
lowest rank as an officer of the military re-
serve. For a captain, therefore, not to speak
of a colonel in the colonial service, to take
orders and reprimands from a military infe-
rior or from a mere civilian is a thing abhor-
rent to the spirit of Prussian institutions.
Dernburg is known to be a man of uncom-
mon energy, impatient of contradiction, some-
what short of temper and bent in every con-
tingency upon having what he considers the
right prevail. Herr Dernburg has carried all
before him so far. It was upon a vote in-
volving his department that Emperor William
appealed to the German people against the
Reichstag that had put von Biilow on the
adverse side of a majority. It was Dernburg
who, according to a belief prevailing in quar-
ters where the facts should be ascertainable,
precipitated the crisis between the imperial
administration and the Roman Catholic Cen-
ter party. Herr Demburg's personal cam-
paign has been directed against the 'blacks,"
as the clericals are called. But the blacks
come to the new Reichstag in better shape
than they were in when Dernburg first took
the field against them. Von Bulow, on the
other hand, was in command of the forces
that marched against the Socialist position.
Bebel is unhorsed. The conservatives argue,
as a consequence, that it is von Biilow, not
Dernburg, who should be hailed wearer of
the victor's wreath. In any event, the newly
elected Reichstag assembles on the eve of a
revolutionary change in the parliamentary
policy of William II. It has actually been
hinted that a mere steamship magnate may be
the next imperial Chancellor.

*
* *

EWS more unexpected than that of
George Clemenceau's possible re-
tirement as Prime Minister of the
French republic has not reached
the Vatican for a long time. The ill-health
attributed to the head of the anticlerical min-
istry in Paris is thought to coincide strangely
with rumors that Briand may become Premier
and with the determination of certain extreme
groups in the chamber of deputies to deal
more energetically with the church. Emile
Combes, so long Premier and now leader of

266

CURRENT LITERATURE

that party which complains that the Pope
is treated with too much toleration, is said
in the organ of the Vatican, the Osservatore
Romano, to be scheming for his own return
to power. "France ought to have avoided,"
avers Combes, "the feeble and undignified
policy of running after the church with facili-
ties and concessiohs," by which he means the
successive compromises offered by the Minis-
ter of Public Worship, Aristide Briand, in the
course of the past month. The Pope himself
consented a few weeks ago to something that
looked at the time like a modification of his
original position. The Roman Catholics of
France had been told explicitly that there can
be no settlement of the dispute between church
and state until the republic consents to nego-
tiate directly with the Pope. "It is a fight,"
to quote the Temps, "for retention by the
Vatican of the purely secular power of ne-
gotiating with the French state upon all sorts
of subjects which belong to the province of
the state." M. Briand refused to yield.

U* RANCE was astonished, consequently, to
'■ learn later that her bishops had expressed
willingness to enter into contracts on the sub-
ject of the church buildings. The contracts
must secure them in the use of the sacred edi-
fices. They must run for eighteen years.
They must provide for transfer of rights from
one priestly incumbent to another. The au-
thority, of the bishop over every incumbent
must be conceded. Interference by the munic-
ipal authority must be excluded. The con-
tracts must be general. No commune can de-
clare itself exempt. "Unless the form of con-
tract be thus made universal, the bishops de-
cline to have anything to do with it any-
where." The last provision is occasioning dis-
cord. Should the government go over the
heads of the municipal authorities in such
fashion it enters into a relation of contract
with the Vatican. Technically, it gives up the
point upon which Clemenceau has taken his
stand. Practically, insists the Journal des
Debats, it abandons nothing essential. The
Pope, it feels confident, is anxious for a set-
tlement. Clemenceau is unwilling to prolong
the crisis. The new attitude of the Vatican
is thought in the Vienna Neue Freie Presse
to denote some loss of prestige on the part of
those papal councilors who act through
Cardinal Merry del Val.

by the exercise of Vatican influence upon the
financiers of Paris. This anticlerical daily
hopes much from the impending publication
of documents seized at the papal nunciature
when the last representative of the Vatican in
France was driven over the frontier. The
documents prove, it is further hinted, that
Vatican ecclesiastics have precipitated politi-
cal crises in Madrid, Vienna and Buda-Pesth.
The Vatican was enabled to exert such pres-
sure upon the Spanish ambassador in Paris
that he acted directly contrary to instructions
•from Madrid. The episode is still obscure,
but the papers soon to see the light will reveal
sensational aspects of it. Emile Combes says
so, and he is mainly responsible for the seiz-
ure of these files of correspondence. "The
Holy See," says the Vatican organ, the Os-
servatore Romano, "declares that it declines
any responsibility for such publication, leav-
ing it to persons who think themselves in-
jured to use the means they judge best to pro-
tect their rights." The anticlerical ministry,
notes the Independence Beige (Brussels) had
evidently a powerful weapon at its disposal
in these documents. It suspects that the very
unexpected modification of the Vatican's at-
titude towards the French government may be
connected with the anxiety of many exalted
personages to keep these documents out of
the newspapers. The clerical Gaulois (Paris)
is amused at the innuendo. It urges the pre-
mier to give his sensation to the world which
has waited breathlessly so long for it.

* *

A MINISTERIAL crisis resulting in the
^* fall of Clemenceau could only be
brought about, says the anticlerical Action,

■^SaOME RULE and the extinction
hj of the House of Lords gave
tone to the sensational speech
from the throne read a fortnight
ago by King Edward when he opened the
new session of his Parliament. His Majesty
did not use the words Home Rule. He re-
frained from saying the Lords would lose
their hereditary right to legislate. But the
Prime Minister, Sir Henry Campbell-Banner-
man, could be blunt. Not that the words
Home Rule passed even his lips. He had a better
word for his purposes, "devolution." Ireland,
it seems, is to have a parliament sitting at
Dublin to make the laws of the country. That
is not Home Rule; it is devolution. John
Redmond, the Irish leader, said in the sort of
speech that is expected from one in his posi-
tion, at the opening of Parliament, that self-
government for Ireland is coming. He would
never have said this without previous con-
sultation with the Prime Minister. Mr. Bal-

THE BIRTH-THROES OF THE NEW DUMA

267

four, still the Conservative leader, after sustain-
ing the worst defeat at the polls ever inflicted
upon a party commander in England, declared
that neither Home Rule nor a modification of
the House of Lords is possible without a fresh
election. The Prime Minister told how the
education bill got through the House of Com-
mons after protracted debate, how it was mu-
tilated in the House of Lords, how the Com-
mons rejected the amendments of the Lords,
how the Lords stood to their guns and how
the ministry gave up the attempt to pass the
bill. "This question of the House of Lords,"
concluded Sir Henry, amid resounding cheers,
"must be settled." But it can not be settled,
if the unanimous verdict of the English press
counts for anything, without unsettling all
that is fundamental in the political institutions
of the kingdom.

HREE irreconcilable sets of election
returns bewilder the student of the
month's contest throughout Russia
for control of the new Duma.
There is, first of all, the accurate report of
the result compiled by the secret police but
inaccessible to all not enjoying their implicit
confidence. There is, next, the result as an-
nounced publicly by Premier Stolypin, indi-
cating a safe ministerial majority. Finally
one has the figures somewhat confusedly pre-
sented in the very partisan native press. By
his juggling with the election laws, his
threats to dissolve the newly chosen Duma
unless it be "obedient," his prohibition of the
right of meeting to parties of a democratic
tendency, and his refusal to permit the use
of printed ballots. Prime Minister Stolypin,
writes Professor Maxime Kovalevsky in the
London Post, has imperilled the prospects of
the parties that support him. The great mass
of peasants voted against Stolypin's candi-
dates. The same hostility was manifested in
the Siberian constituencies, in the Caucasus
and in the outlying districts of southwestern
Russia. So Kovalevsky affirms. He seems to
have followed the month's developments
carefully, and he is known to be a Russian
politician who weighs his words. Among the
landed proprietors, he admits, there exists a
current of opinion friendly to Stolypin.
Nicholas II, Czar of all the Russias, is said
to have boasted, as the long drawn out elec-
tion proceeded, that his empire is the only
country in the world permitting its peasantry,
to choose representatives of their own order as
a class apart from the rest of the population.

THE GREATEST ENEMY OF THE BRITISH
HOUSE OF LORDS

Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, Prime Minister of
Edward VII, has just declared that the question raised
by the House of Lords when it threw out the Edu-
cation Bill in defiance of the House of Commons in-
volves the gravest constitutional crisis. Sir Henry
himself, it seems, has a Home Rule Bill in reserve.

T J NTIL Nicholas II reached Tsarskoe-Selo
^ from Peterhof, the real autocrat of Rus-
sia, we are assured by the Paris Temps, was
Prime Minister Stolypin. Immured since last
summer in the seclusion of Peterhof, his
Majesty, disposed by disposition to retirement,
had seemed to sicken of his own autocracy.
Stolypin waxed into a vice-despot, an irre-
sponsible dictator. It was the condition he
had imposed upon the Czar before accepting
the responsibilities of office. He guaranteed
the ultimate success of his policy, if every-
thing were left to his discretion. Wearied
with taking arms against his sea of troubles,
worn to a shadow by the insomnia that has
grown upon him, the autocrat relinquished all
authority to Stolypin, the greatest optimist in
Russia. Nicholas went so far as to refer
every minister to the Premier. Stolypin has
given every order since last summer. "It was
constitutional government in all its vigor,"
observes the Paris Debats, which furnishes
these particulars, "but it was constitutional

26S

CURRENT LITERATURE

government without a constitution. The Czar
reigned, but he did not rule." The absolutism
to which Nicholas had aspired Stolypin at7
tained. The Prime Minister told a French
journalist not long ago that the press was
nowhere so free as he had made it in Russia. In
another week the Russ had been suppressed
because someone wrote it a letter protesting
against an execution. "The fact is," says that
observer on the spot — Hon. Maurice Baring
in the London Post — "the press would be free
if martial law did not obtain everywhere."

ISJOTWITHSTANDING Stolypin's reputa-
^ ^ tion as the finest type of gentleman
evolved by Muscovite civilization, in spite of
his personal prestige as the chivalrous son of
a stainless soldier and of a princess who com-
bined wit and beauty with ineffable goodness,
his performances during the past month have
slightly tarnished his renown as a champion
of fair play. The disillusion came when he
required the publishers, editors and principal
members of the staffs of newspapers to sign
an undertaking not to criticize the Stolypin
mode of conducting a national election. The
newspapers were likewise ordered not to inter-
pret the development of the political campaign
in a sense unfavorable to the authorities. They
were called upon to soothe the public mind.
All newspapers that proved refractory were
either suppressed forthwith or subjected to
heavy money fines. In some instances, the
writers of unpalatable comment upon the
Stolypin "explanations" were sent to prison.
The most drastic step was enforcement of a
military censorship of the press that had spread
far and wide by the time the elections entered
their last stage. It is hardly too much to say
that for the past six weeks authentic news of
what is happening in the interior of Russia
has been all but unprocurable. Yet Prime
Minister Stolypin has remained the most ac-
cessible of mortals to the St. Petersburg cor-
respondents of newspapers published outside
his native land. Interview after interview has
impressed readers of British, French and
American dailies with that firm purpose to do
just the right thing for which Peter Acadie-
vitch Stolypin is so esteemed.

MICHOLAS II reached Tsarskoe-Selo at a
^ ^ moment when the initial phases of the
creation of the new Duma indicated its final
appearance as a stormy, undisciplined and
refractory body doomed in advance to a
speedy dissolution. Stolypin had taken five
million dollars from the national treasury for

the campaign. His efforts to eliminate the
Constitutional Democrats — the party led by
estimable professors like Milyoukoff — had re-
sulted in a probability that they might elect
their ticket in St. Petersburg and make gains
in Moscow. The peasants were restive in
spite of the government's offer on easy terms
of some 23,000,000 acres of land in different
provinces of European Russia and 55,000,000
in Siberia. But the peasants were warned
from Siberia by the campaign literature cir-
culated surreptitiously in every hut. They
were told that the poorest farmers must
wait longest for land at home because they
were crowded in provinces where farms were
to be had only by dispossessing their landlords
— a policy frowned down by Stolypin himself.
The emergency was met with a law which even
the organ of the Constitutional Democrats,
the Retch, concedes to be fraught with far-
reaching benefits, not only for the peasantry
but for the whole Russian people. Peasant
ownership was decreed in village communes
wherever any farmer called for it. Individual
ownership is thus to supplant community of
land. "No more important act," asserts one
of the highest living authorities on modern
Russia, Dr. E. J. Dillon, of the London Tele-
graph, "has emanated from the Russian gov-
ernment since Alexander II emancipated the
serfs forty-five years ago." The fetters of the
peasant had been but partially struck off be-
fore. He will be henceforth, and to the extent
that the word is applicable to any Russian,
free. So tremendous was the political effect
that the agitators in that group of toil which
hails Aladin, the educated peasant, as its
hero, noted a marked disaffection among their
supporters.

0 O VEXED was the autocrat by the dilemma
*^ that drove him to this act of emancipation
that he looked about, say the correspondents,
for a successor to Stolypin. Rumors of Witte's
restoration to the post he had quitted in hu-
miliation intercepted that statesman himself
as he journeyed to his estates in the Cau-
casus. He seems to be a very sick man. His
name has been connected with desperate
efforts to float a fresh loan in Paris — a loan
that will remain unnegotiable, as the Roths-
childs are said to have assured Stolypin, until
wholesale massacre of Jews are punishable
in fact as well as on paper. When the news
that Witte had actually been invited to St.
Petersburg was confirmed, the organs of re-
action pronounced him the head of a con-
spiracy to slaughter the entire governing caste.

OLD LEADERS IN THE NEW DUMA

269

an unhappy miscreant who, raised to posts of
the highest honor in the state, had sold his
sovereign to foreign Jews. Witte reached St.
Petersburg when the effervescence of such
furies hissed hottest. Not long afterwards
he was on his way to Brussels, where his
married daughter makes her home. He is
said to have lost the power of speech during
one stage of his recent illness. He told a cor-
respondent that his return to the anxieties of
the time when bombs were smuggled into his
study disturbed him less than the thought of
the shattered health which would make
assumption of official responsibility an act of
self-destruction. The reactionary organs
likened him to Cataline proclaiming his own
lack of guile to the Roman senate.

A LL THE leaders of the thirteen political
■*^ parties involved in the struggle for con-
trol of Russia's new Duma predict the out-
come with a confidence worthy of William
Randolph Hearst when he foretold a majority
of 200,000 for himself in New York State.
Only one Russian political leader, Aladin, soul
of the peasant labor group in the late Duma,
consents to obscuration. He was duly heard
from in London, foretelling confusion for
Stolypin in a long article printed by The
Times of that city. Aladin had been informed
that he would be placed in a dungeon if he
showed himself within his constituency of Sim-
birsk. Aladin has spent much leisure in prison
at Kazan, but he is now anxious to avoid any
renewal of his former associations with Rus-
sian penal rigor. Cossacks, he averred, have
invaded Simbirsk to keep him out of the new
Duma. His rhetoric was as fervent as his
rage when he told New York audiences last
month of all these things. Count Heyden, the
landed aristocrat of venerable appearance and
ample wealth, who abjures recourse to po-
litical methods punishable by law, has
organized what he calls a party of peace-
ful regeneration upon the basis that only
a responsible ministry enjoying the con-
fidence of the new Duma can establish
order and good government. Mr. Michael
Stakhovich, some time leader of those moder-
ate Octobrists who derive their name from the
month made glorious by one of the Czar's
innumerable manifestoes, has gone over to the
party of peaceful regeneration and back again
to the Octobrists with such speed and fre-
quency that the Riiss became quite sarcastic
until it was suppressed and had to appear
under another name.

T"" HAT fervent orator and genial giant. Dr.
Rodicheff, who performed parliamentary
prodigies for the Constitutional Democrats be-
fore the military locked the late Duma out
of the Tauride Palace, hopes to baffle the
Prime Minister's efforts to balk his election
from St. Petersburg. The distinguished writer
on Russian institutions. Professor Milyoukoff,
who was kept out of the first national repre-
sentative body ever chosen by the Russian
people only through a technicality, hopes to
get in this time. So, too, does Professor Ko-
valevsky, whose clear, instructive discourses
in the Tauride Palace, combined with his typi-
cally Muscovite appearance and manner, made
him a great favorite among the peasant depu-
ties and who is now insisting that the first act
of the new Duma must be the impeachment
of Stolypin for dissolving the last. Dimitri
Shipoff, so often named as a possible Prime
Minister, had nailed his colors to the mast as
an Octobrist until Count Heyden won him
over to the party of peaceful regeneration
with a view to the combination of all consti-
tutional groups in the coming Duma. The
irreconcilable Alexander Guchkoff, leading
spirit among the Octobrists, emphatically de-
clares that "in Russia the monarchical prin-
ciple must be constitutional or nothing," and
he is deemed certain of election. These, and
a multitude besides, are running the gantlet
of Prime Minister Stolypin's electoral sav-
ages, "the union of Russian men," which has
vowed the death by assassination of many an
opposition candidate. But the terrorists have
shown in the past few weeks that they under-
stand the art of assassination. Count Alexis
Ignatieff, the Czar's disciplinarian. General
Litvinoff, a provincial governor famed as a
flogger. Prefect Pavloff, organizer of spies,
and some lesser lights, have died the death of
Plehve. Bombs have been thrown at candi-
dates for the Duma here and there, but the
bearers of distinguished names yet live — Rodi-
cheff, Milyoukoff, Kovalevsky, Shipoft', Hey-
den, Guchkoff — all leaders, some in the same
political group, yet united in little except the
idea that Stolypin must go. It is this very
fact, say all observers, that commends Stoly-
pin to the Czar.

By an inadvertence last month, the copy-
right notice was omitted from the ten pho-
tographs of President Roosevelt on pages
130, 131. They were made from stereo-
graphs copyrighted by Underwood & Un-
derwood, New York, 1906,

Persons in the Foreground

THE LONELIEST MAN IN THE UNITED STATES SENATE

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods there be
For my unconquerable soul.

It matters not how strait the gate.
How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate :
I am the captain of my soul.

T WAS about two weeks before the
election of 1894, in the State of
Wisconsin, that a meeting was be-
J ing held of the leaders in the La
Follette faction of the Republican party from
different parts of the state. The burden of all
reports was the same — failure. Then "the lit-
tle lion of Wisconsin," as his admirers call
him, rose to the full height of his five feet and
four inches and began to recite that most
famous of Henley's poems, quoted in part
above. His eyes were blazing and his voice
quivering, and his diminutive stature seemed to
loom higher and higher as he proceeded to
cheer his downcast lieutenants. "In ten min-
utes," says a former law partner of La Fol-
lette, who tells the story, "he had swept away
their dejection and filled them with new zeal."
Of course there is but one right way for such
a good story to end. This story ends in that
way. His followers "rushed back to the firing
line," and when the election had been held the
La Follette Republicans had become the domi-
nating factor in Wisconsin politics.

Robert M. La Follette, now the junior Sen-
ator from that state, and, according to New-
ton Dent, writing in Munsey's, the most iso-
lated and prophetic figure seen in that body
since the days of Sumner, began his life in a
log hut, a few miles from Madison, Wisconsin,
fifty-two years ago. He is of French Huguenot
extraction. His boyhood was spent on a farm.
He worked his way through college — the Uni-
versity of Wisconsin — for his father died
when Bob was in the cradle, and he had. to
help support the family as soon as he was in
his teens. "He was the poorest student in his
class," says one of his biographers, "and the
ablest." Part of the time he taught school and
part of the time he edited the university paper.
He captured the championship for oratory in
an interstate collegiate contest, and greater

glory than that can no man in a western col-
lege acquire. He graduated in 1879 ^" the
science course and in 1880 from the law de-
partment. He had had visions early in life of
a career on the stage, but a tragedian told him
that a Hamlet only five feet four in height
was out of the question, and, with a sigh, he
turned to law. At the age of 25 he was elected
district attorney, at the age of 29 he was made
a congressman. He has served three terms
in the lower house of Congress, and has been
elected governor of his state three times. Now
in the United States Senate he may be lonely,
but he doesn't seem to let that fact prey upon
his mind. He has friends outside the Senate,
and a good many of them think they have him
as good as nominated for president on the
next Republican ticket. The most popular
Republican paper in New York City — The
Press — is strenuously for his nomination.

In personal appearance he is described by
the writer in Munsey's as "more like a mis-
sionary-bishop than a hard-headed man of
affairs." Here is the way one Washington
correspondent describes his appearance: "He
is a well-built, athletic, energetic, good-look-
ing man with a high, broad forehead, a square
jaw, a pair of keen brown eyes, and an aggres-
sive, wavy pompadour. He has a ready smile
and a handshake that makes the other fellow
remember the day his fingers got caught in a
door." Another observer speaks of his hav-
ing the face of a Savonarola and the physique
of a Daniel Boone. And still another, one of
his admiring constituents, has much to say of
his flashing eyes, his leonine head, his square
jaw and his clarion voice. He has also a stom-
ach,— the kind, that is, that makes itself
known. It is an insurgent stomach, and it is
said that it kept him flat in bed for six months
each year during several years of his fight to
reach the governorship. The hardest fight he
ever had, in fact, was to conquer "Little
Mary" by diet and regular exercise.

As a political leader La FoIIette's charac-
teristics are now fairly well known in the
country at large. He is an effective orator,
but his oratory is not of the flowery kind.
Despite the fact that he is, as a writer in The
Arena says, "familiar with all the masterpieces
of literature" and lectures on Shakespeare's

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

271

plays, he "quotes no poetry or literary gems of
any kind, uses no figures of speech, has ho
climaxes, tells no stories, indulges in no hu-
mor," and "uses no historical examples or al-
lusions." But his delivery is "graceful," his
English "pure," his thought and expression
"vigorous" and his ideals "lofty." It goes
almost without saying that he is a fighter from
w^ay baclc. The main issue on vi^hich he has
fought his way up is that of "representative
government," which has meant, with him, op-
position to the machine which he found in his
party, and opposition to the railroad and other
corporations that supported the machine. Direct
nominations by the people has been one of his
strongest weapons, and to secure it took years
of hard combat even after his party had
adopted it in its platform and elected him gov-
ernor. His temper is supposed, especially in
the East, to be very radical, so radical indeed
that President Roosevelt distrusts him and all
the Republican Senators are afraid of him.
If the writer in Munsey's is correct, he is far
from what the real radicals would consider
one of themselves. Says Mr. Dent:

"His unique merit as a social reformer is that
he has a long record of building up, not tearing
down. He is not a socialist. Populist, or single-
taxer. His ideas come from the people whom he
meets day by day, and from his own reflections
upon events. No matter how eloquent his perora-
tion may be, it does not prophesy the coming of a
golden age of universal affluence. The only
millennium that interests him is the time when
we shall have common honesty, and plenty of it,
in the administration of our public affairs.

"In fact, La Follette is essentially a conserva-
tive with regard to American institutions. He
is well satisfied with the handiwork of the men
who built this republic. When a friend said to
him, recently, 'We must abolish the Constitution,'
he was horrified. He has no sympathy whatever
with those who assail the Senate in general terms.
And as for being a social revolutionist of the
Bebel or Jaures type, nothing could be more for-
eign to his practical mind.

"His idea is not to change American institu-
tions, but to make them work. He wants to clean
up the machinery, and oil it, and make it run. In
Wisconsin there are few cranks and faddists
among his adherents. "Jhe red-flag socialists are
so strongly opposed to his moderate proposals that
they have on several occasions joined forces with
the railroads against him. His attitude, in general,
is rather that of a business man than of a politi-
cian or social reformer."

The three qualities that most distinguish the
man, according to the Arena writer, are his
absolute honesty, his first-class skill as an or-
ganizer, and his effectiveness as an orator.
His arch-enemy is Senator Spooner. Con-
gressman Babcock, now ex-congressman, was

COMES HONESTLY BY LOVE OF THE STAGE

Miss Lola La Follette, daughter of Senator La Fol-
lette, is a member of Ada Rehan's company. Her
father would have gone on the stage if his short
stature had not been such a handicap.

another of his foes. But with them all in mind,
after his last nomination for governor had
been made by unanimous vote of the Repub-
lican convention, following, however, on a bit-
ter contest, he concluded his speech of accept-
ance as follows:

"I do not treasure one personal injury or
lodge in memory one personal insult. The span
of my life is too short for that. But so much
as it pleases God to spare unto me I shall
give, whether in the public service or out
of it, to the contest for good government."

HIS PERSONALITY IS SAID TO BE AS DELIGHTFUL AS TAFT'S

Prince von Bulow, imperial German Chancellor, is deemed^ the hero_ of the Waterloo inflicted^ last month
upon the Socialists of the land. The Prince is so urbane that his speech is irresistible, his courtesy is so perfect
that he has not a personal enemy in the world, and his culture is so fine that he enters into the spirit of every
art and all literatures. He has only recently recovered from a long illness. No one seems to know what foun-
dation there may be for rumors of his coming retirement.

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

273

THE ARTISTIC TEMPERAMENT OF THE GERMAN
IMPERIAL CHANCELLOR

T IS said of Prince von Bulow, now
hailed even more than is his mas-
ter William II as the real victor
of the recent German elections,
that he never was a boy. He became a man
by the time he had cut his teeth. His mother
used to say, as she combed the long flaxen
hair for which he was locally illustrious at
the age of eight, that Bernhard would be-
come a celebrated artist. The prophecy, if
anything may be inferred from German press
comment of the sarcastic kind, has been abun-
dantly fulfilled. The particular art in which
he has not merely an enthusiastic ambition
to excel but a mastery that speaks volumes
for the length of his training, is the art of
trifling. Yet he could stand on his head in
a clown's motley without forfeiting a trace
of that personal distinction which gives at-
mosphere to his character. He does it meta-
phorically all the time. Big and heavy physi-
cally, the Prince nevertheless conveys an im-
pression of lightness — his critics say frothi-
ness — that seems to have nothing German in
it. Accepting the views of his enemies, in-
deed, one must believe that Prince von Billow
is German neither in his outlook upon life
nor in his training.

He has sprung from a very ancient and
distinguished house. His genealogy goes
back eight centuries. Generation after gen-
eration of the Billows have held lucrative
public office. But Bernhard von Biilow was
not born a prince nor even a count. He has
never possessed vast landed estates. He has
never held a commission in the German
army. His university career was French.
The land of which he knows most is Italy.
He even possesses what the French call
"esprit" — a word feebly transliterated into
liveliness of wit and fancy, and therefore in-
applicable, according to Parisians, to any
genuine German. Yet no one who reads the
monologs with which the Chancellor delights
the Reichstag, affirms the London Times,
can hesitate to allow that he is abundantly
endowed with the winning Gallic quality in
question. Nothing could be gayer, lighter or
more adroit than the fashion in which this
responsible statesman ensures his triumph as
an artist by trifling with the weightiest inter-
national interests with which Europe is con-
cerned. The Prince does try hard to be

serious upon occasion, and then the whole
Reichstag is dissolved in merriment. "The
expansive good nature of his whole attitude
and the exquisite art with which it is used
to cloak and to relieve the playful malice of
some of his ingenuous-looking sentences,"
says the London Times again, "have a flavor
— it is true a trans-Rhenane flavor — of La
Fontaine."

The Prince has large, expressive blue eyes,
the gaze whereof is pronounced keen and
penetrating. His complexion is blond, in-
clining slightly to the florid. He is some six
feet tall, with a tendency to plumpness. The
Germans do not like his fondness for Eng-
lish modes. They make fun, too, of the poodle
to which he is so attached. The Chancellor
is a good deal of a pedestrian. Clad in a
tweed suit, with a heavy stick in his hand, a
short pipe between his teeth, and followed
by the faithful dog, the imperial German
chancellor will wander for hours in high-
ways and byways. He has footed it all over
northern Italy, the region he seems to love
above all other portions of the world. The
Prince prefers Italian cooking to German
cooking, Italian artists to German artists.
He thinks in Italian, we are told, and trans-
lates into German. His wife is an Italian of
Italians. She was a Princess Maria Cam-
poreale, daughter of one of the most brilliant
women in Roman society years ago, and step-
daughter of the Italian statesman Ming-
hetti. They have no childen.

Von Biilow makes no concealment of his
love for Italy. He agrees with Theophile
Gautier that the grand canal of Venice is the
most wonderful thing in the world. He has
spent day after day amid the ruins of Pom-
peii, the frescoes therein filling him with de-
light and inspiring his sympathetic interest
in the project for the excavation of Her-
culaneum. For every form of Italian art —
painting, music, sculpture, poetry, architec-
ture— he has a passion. His tastes in this
direction were influenced by Marco Ming-
hetti, the stepfather of his wife, an orator of
brilliant talent, a lover of the great classical
authors from whose writings he quotes with
unexampled felicity. From Minghetti von
Biilow learned that art of quotation which
he employs with such effect in the Reichstag.
It is well known that the Chancellor will re-

274

CURRENT LITERATURE

solve all debate into a poetical quotation, well
timed. Goethe, Homer, Shakespeare, he
seems to have them all by heart. Theocritus
is another author that he loves. Taine he
commends highly because that Frenchman
comprehended Italy.

Brilliant as are the talents for which the
Chancellor is famed — sprightliness in conver-
sation, readiness of wit, facility in negotia-
tion, brilliance as an orator — there is some
doubt as to whether they are wholly genuine.
He is deemed somewhat ostentatious of the
abilities, such as they are, which he possesses.
He never tells anything but the truth. But
he does not think himself bound to tell the
whole truth when some — political opponents
mainly — think he ought to tell it. He seems
to have no great capacity for friendship. His
brother is said to be his most intimate chum.
The Emperor is said to admire him immense-
ly without exactly loving him. Von Bulow
is of that type which lives upon approbation,
which detests the notion of being guilty of a
rude act or an impolite remark. He never
affects to be above even a Socialist member
of the Reichstag. He respects, with an al-
most religious scrupulosity, all the established
decorums of German life; but the flexibility
of his manner, while making him most agree-
able, is alleged to denote some capacity for
slyness. And if Boileau be right in affirming
that no truly great genius was ever wholly
satisfied with himself, von Biilow lacks the
highest type of human ability. For he possesses
the characteristic, or, rather, the personal
trait to which the immature refer when they
say that so-and-so is "dead stuck" on himself.

From the lips of von Bulow the German
language falls in sentences of perfect clarity.
It has been affirmed that parliamentary ora-
tory is unknown in the fatherland!. It is cer-
tainly non-existent in any sense intelligible to
Anglo-Saxons, But von Biilow and Bebel
between them have brought into being a kind
of public speaking quite new in the political
life of their common country. Each makes
free use of simple gestures, but both abstain
from the awkward and the obscure, from
those divagations and involutions that render
the talk of a German professor so ponderous.
Bebel and Biilow are further kin in the mor-
dant quality of the humor of each, in an
irony that is both grim and unstrained. The
sentences flow in a steady stream, without
harking back or stumbling forward. Ger-
many has come a little late into her national
parliament, as she has come a little late into
her national navy, but in von Biilow and in
Bebel she has speakers of such power and
brilliance that theii" superior does not exist
in the parliament of any other land. An
oratorical duel between the pair is always
an international sensation. Nothing could be
more characteristic or more killing than the
courtesy of the Chancellor throughout these
crises. Bebel is always so terribly in earnest
and von Biilow is always so thoro a trifler
that the contrast between them would be
striking even tho the Chancellor refrained —
which he never does — from quoting some-
thing or other from the poets by way of illus-
tration that makes Socialistic aspirations
seem like gelid beams plucked on the pale-
faced moon.

THE BRIGHT SIDE OF JOHN D. ROCKEFELLER

WELVE years ago, at the age of
fifty-five, John D. Rockefeller, hav-
ing amassed the largest private for-
tune of the world, decided to retire
from active business. Up to that time the world
in general knew little of his personality, and
that little was the result of guesswork and de-
duction. The figure that had taken its place in
the public mind was that of a remorseless man,
driven by a lust for power, unfeeling and un-
yielding. Miss Ida Tarbell's conscientious
endeavor to find the real Rockefeller from his
record resulted in the portrayal of a man who
became in early manhood "money-mad," and
had been ever since dominated by the obses-
sion of a fixed idea. When Mr. Rockefeller

began his series of donations to Chicago Uni-
versity the paragraphers and cartoonists repre-
sented him as squeezing the unfortunate "com-
mon people" just enough tighter to reimburse
himself for his beneficence. Had Mr. Rocke-
feller died ten years ago he would have died
in public execration. The term is hardly too
strong.

But there has been a marked change in the
public feeling of late years, and especially in
the last two years. One reason for it, per-
haps, has been the contrast forced upon the
world's attention between his own unosten-
tatious private life, with its freedom from
scandal, and the life of certain other frenzied
financiers whose ideas of "high life" seemed to

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

275

be to break the bank at Monte Carlo, to keep
the divorce courts busy, and to supply racy
material for the columns of Town Topics. An-
other and still more potent reason for the
change has been due, probably, to the growing
belief that Mr. Rockefeller actually cares a
little for the good opinion of his fellowmen —
cares for it not as a financial asset, but as any
other normal human being on the way down
the slope of life might care for it. Pity is
akin to love, and even the socialists began to
pity John D. Rockefeller for his supposed lone-
liness and heart-hunger! "The loneliest man
in the world" he has been called by Frederick
Palmer, and a touching picture was given by
one magazine writer several months ago (and
reproduced in these pages) of Mr. Rockefeller
surrounded by guards, in constant fear of as-
sassination, a sort of prisoner in his own home
and a stranger to all the joys of open-hearted
human companionship. Napoleon, standing
with folded arms, grand, gloomy and peculiar,
looking out over the waves as they broke
upon the shores of Elba, was never a more
pathetic figure than this Napoleon of finance
that the public has been picturing to itself of
late, hairless and hopeless, longing for a word
of real sympathy and the touch of a hand that
was not reaching for his pocketbook.

Already the picture fades and another is
taking its place. The Great Inaccessible no
longer wanders in solitary grandeur. Another
magazine writer has broken down the barriers
that hedge him about, and we now find him
playing golf, riding a bicycle, whistling, sing-
ing, and throwing his hat in the air with the
abandon of a sixteen-year-old boy. Lone-
some? Miserable? Far from it. So far from
it, indeed, that he is now proclaimed, on the
testimony of "a close associate," as "undoubt-
edly the happiest man in the world."

It is The Woman's Home Companion that
has given us this later, and, we are bound to
believe, truer, picture of Mr. Rockefeller. Its
representative went with letters of introduction
to see him last August at his Forest Hill home
in Cleveland. The scribe was stopped at the
lodge gate. He went back to his hotel and
wrote a letter to Mr. Rockefeller, telling him
that he was the most hated and least under-
stood person in the United States, and that
here was his chance to set himself right with
the world! Result: an invitation to play golf
with the rich man, followed by another and
another. And now we get "for the first time
an accurate picture of the human side of the
remarkable Mr. Rockefeller." At least one
side of him, therefore, is human.

The humor of the situation is rather fetch-
ing, but there is no evidence that the writer
in The Woman's Home Companion is con-
scious of it, tho it is not impossible that Mr.
Rockefeller saw it and enjoyed it. "He said
to me one day," says the writer, "We ought to
be thankful for simple tastes — to be able to
enjoy sunshine, blue sky like this, leaves,
grass and our game of golf.' He meant it,
too. He is fond of discovering things for
which he should feel thankful." We know not
which the more to admire, the naivete of Mr.
Rockefeller or that of his companion. The
fact that indictments and subpenas were al-
ready beginning to hurtle through the air of
Ohio at that time gives us the right kind of
background for the picture, and for this touch-
ing expression of gratitude for sunshine, blue
sky, leaves and grass. It was not for noth-
ing, perchance, that Mr. Rockefeller had be-
come a year before an honorary member of
the association of American press humorists!

But let the game of golf proceed. It was
a four-ball four-some, the other two players
being two "Cleveland preachers, both Baptists.
The scribe was selected as Mr. Rockefeller's
partner. "He knows how to make every one
feel comfortable and at home," is the com-
mentary on this. Very soon Mr. Rockefeller
made an accurate approach thirty yards away
from the fourth hole. "What a handclapping !
He was as tickled as a boy with a new toy.
He threw up his hat and danced a jig on the
spot." Mr. Rockefeller and his Home Com-
panion companion were beaten at the end of
the course of nine holes. Then the million-
aire wanted to play four more holes, which
he and his partner won, and the solemn assur-
ance is given us: "He is not superstitious.
Thirteen holes is his favorite number every
day." The biographer gives us another Bos-
wellian touch:

"Mr. Rockefeller plays golf from a wheel, rid-
ing from shot to shot. He has three boy at-
tendants, not that he needs so many, but this system
seems a natural result of his ingrained sense of
personal economy. This economic theory is es-
pecially well sustained in the case of Willie.
Willie supplies part of the motive power for the
wheel, running behind and pushing, as they move
over the soft sod. Another boy carries a bag of
golf clubs, and a third comes with a basket con-
taining golf balls, chalk, extra gloves, a necker-
chief, and underneath all these things I won-
■ dered — what ! . . .

"When he is with friends and merry, you can't
count the lines in his face — gentle, genial lines,
and around the eyes, crow's-feet of delicious
humor. Usually he wears no glasses. But the
eyes ! They are light blue, and just around the
corner, a jolly, roguish twinkle. Far apart.

i-jd

CURRENT LITERATURE

focussed in space, seeing things ten years off, they
are brightened by hopeful imagination. Unlike
most men of his age, he lives in the future as
much as in the past. This is the more remarkable,
too, because few men have lived through such
thrilling times or seen such conquests.

"He has a long, straight, perceptive nose, mouth
straight, firm but kind; thin lips, persuasive and
sufficiently elastic to whistle or play a horn. I
have heard him whistle and sing."

Never, says the same writer, has he known
anyone who could approach Mr. Rockefeller
in thoughtful little attentions. Remember-
ing that the express object of the visit was
to enable Mr. Rockefeller to set the world
right as to his character, such thoughtful at-
tention loses some of its evidential value in
this particular case. But as a matter of fact,
all the personal friends of the magnate, those
who have had years of intimacy with him, tell
the same story as to his attentiveness and
kindly manner toward his guests. It extends
to rather minute details and is habitual with
him. He is never morose, is an agreeable
talker, a fairly good story-teller, and quick at
repartee. He is fond of reading, especially of
reading serious books that interpret life from a
religious point of view, — not sloppy sentiment,
but the writings of such authors as Drum-
niond and Ian Maclaren and Lyman Abbott.
All these stories of guards outside his win-
dow at night and push-buttons located every-
where for the purpose of summoning speedy
help and of constant mortal dread of assas-
sination are scouted by his friends as tommy-
rot. They testify that the guards are not in
evidence, that his houses are obviously like
any other houses, that his manner is that of
a cheery optimist, that he eats well and has
the same variety of dishes any man of regu-
lar habits and good digestion and a clear
conscience has.

The difference between the attitude toward
the public of Mr. Rockefeller and Mr. Car-
negie has been frequently noted. Mr. Car-
negie is a "mixer," as the politicians say, and
he has by his approachableness and good na-
ture averted personal hostility and misunder-
standing of various kinds. Mr. Rockefeller's
latest magnificent gift to the cause of educa-
tion— thirty-two millions at one stroke — has
placed him certainly in the same category as
Carnegie in the size of his benefactions. But
Mr. Rockefeller has held himself personally
aloof even from the objects of his beneficence.
A recent writer in the New York Times in-
terprets his attitude as follows:

"People have made some quaint guesses at Mr.
Rockefeller's apparent attitude of standing apart
from his benefactions, once they are made. It is

a pose, say some; it is probably a personal diffi-
dence in facing crowds, say others. The true
explanation is that he is absolutely wanting in the
sense of personal display. It has long been con-
ceded that his was the most practical and com-
petent mind in the United States devoted purely
to business problems in the last quarter of the
nineteenth century. . A simple love of home and
family developed as he assumed the responsibili-
ties of wedded life. His home, his church work,
his business furnished his workshop, his play-
ground, his drama, his entertainment.

"As the popular writers drew a mantle of mys-
tery around him, he was content to be thankful
for the opportunity it gave him to live quietly in
the shade when everybody else seemed straining
for a spot in the public eye. His suavity was no
pose, it was part of his nature. His cheerfulness,
however lacking in demonstrativeness, was unfail-
ing, but operate in the public square he would
not."

The same journal gives a list of Mr. Rocke-
feller's gifts as they have from time to time
become known, and they amount to a little less
than $94,000,000. The New York American
reckons up a total of $158,000,000. Nearly all
this vast sum has gone to educational institu-
tions. Most of it has been given since his retire-
ment from active business, but it is said that
from the first his ambition has been to afiford
educational advantages to as many young men
and women as possible. He is carrying out a
lifelong purpose, not a purpose born, as some
have inferred, of late years from remorse and
an expiatory impulse. And he has made it an
invariable rule of his giving to an institution
that it shall raise additional sums before it
can receive his gift. The most striking evi-
dence that the use he is making of his fortune
is disarming his critics is perhaps to be found
in the editorial comment of Mr. Hearst's
paper, the New York American, a few days
ago, just after the announcement of the gift
of thirty-two millions. Under the title, "Noble
Use of a Vast Fortune," The American re-
marks that the most appropriate time for con-
sidering the social perils of such a fortune as
Mr. Rockefeller's is not when he is parting
with it for promoting knowledge. It adds :

"Centuries after Mr. Rockefeller is gone the
effects of his benefactions will remain. The wis-
dom of men and the goodness of men will be in-
creased through generations by his money. More-
over, while Rockefeller lives, and as long as his
name shall be remembered, his example will
stimulate other multi-millionaires to emulation.
Surely there could not be nobler rivalry than
competition in founding and endowing institutions
of learning and setting free from the burdensome
cares of hfe gifted men engaged in original re-
search.

"The John D. Rockefeller who bestows millions
with both hands upon universities and schools de-
serves all the applause that his enlightened be-,
nevolence brings to him."

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

277

MARQUIS SAIONJI, THE PRIME MINISTER AND BEAU

BRUMMELL OF JAPAN

N THOSE professions of unalter-
able esteem for America and for all
things American which the Japa-
nese Prime Minister framed with
such effect in the Diet at Tokyo four weeks
ago, we have evidence, say some cynics, that
he might have excelled Garrick in comedy
had his genius been turned -in earlier life in
the direction most congenial to it. The Mar-
quis Saionji's eulogy of President Roosevelt
rose at times to an almost lyric fervor after
the peace of Portsmouth, altho to the Mar-
quis that peace was meaningless and gro-
tesque. The real personal sentiments of this
statesman on the subject of our country are
expressed in stolen half-interviews and in
hasty asides amid the gaieties of a ballroom,
and are of the kind that finds favor on the
continent of Europe and inspires spicy reflec-
tions in the Berlin Kreus Zeitung. But the
official opinion of the Marquis is to the per-
sonal opinion of the Marquis as pantomime
to real life. Praising our country is a part
he obviously enjoys. His best performance
echoed those rhapsodies through the me-
dium of which President Roosevelt con-
verted his recent annual message into a Japa-
nese canticle. The Marquis reciprocated with
an American madrigal of even greater ani-
mation than the Rooseveltian scherzo that
Emperor William has worn threadbare. The
political foes of the Marquis professed to find
his references to this sweet land of liberty
ridiculous in view of the dislike of America
so often attributed to him. The political sup-
porters of the Marquis retort indignantly.
Roosevelt had scratched Japan's back. Japan
scratched Roosevelt's back. There is noth-
ing ridiculous in peace on earth, good-will to
men. Nor is dissimulation the second-nature
of the Marquis. It is merely his refuge, his
very present help in trouble. It is, as we say
over here, the game, and the Marquis learned
it in France. Nothing is worth learning, ac-
cording to the private opinion he is said to
hold, unless it can be learned in France.

Certainly no one was ever so French as
the Marquis tries to be. The Prime Minister
of Japan does his thinking in French. His
manners are French. His sympathies are
French. His characteristics are the most ex-
cessively French that ever made a personal-
ity delightful. Of his brilliance there can be
no possible doubt whatever. In his sincerity

no one has any faith at all. Fifty-eight, ex-
tremely rich, aristocratic to the finger tips,
uncompromisingly democratic in principle,
he disposes of serious things with an epigram
and thinks nothing matters much. He is, to
employ the hackneyed phrase that fits him,
perfectly lovely. Mrs. Mary Crawford Eraser,
who has met him often, vouches in the Lon-
don Monthly Review for that. So do many
ladies. "A desperate heart-breaker," says our
fair authority.

The tallness of the Marquis is described in
the Paris Gaulois, charmed by his Galilean
traits, as "divine" — a term which amounts to
no more, apparently, than that the Prime
Minister is what we unpolished Americans
would call big for a Jap. He has a very
psychic eye that swims — we plagiarize the
French daily — straight into your soul. It is
with his psychic eye instead of with his lips
that the Marquis smiles — sometimes cynically;
often sentimentally, but always irresistibly.
His features are extremely regular, altho quite
heavy about the lips and chin for one of his
nation. Unlike the Japanese generally, he
possesses very even and regular teeth of daz-
zling whiteness. He is destitute of that
national vanity which prompts so many of his
countrymen to attempt, in defiance of ethnol-
ogy, the cultivation of a beard. But the
most wonderful of the physical attractions of
the Marquis is his complexion. It is golden.
The ianomaly imparts a peculiar seductive-
ness to his cuticle, which is of an inimitably
silky texture. The smartness of the Marquis
Saionji's figure is said to be really that of his
corset. He was initiated into the mysteries
of that accessory to personal distinction by
Austrian cavalry officers who took a fancy
to him while he sojourned in Vienna in a
diplomatic capacity. This, of course, is gos-
sip, a thing the Marquis despises. A corset,
moreover, would add nothing to the beauty of
those lines and the grace of that motion dis-
played by the Prime Minister in the native
Japanese dress he wears on social occasions.
He shows himself then in every conceivable
combination of color, and so perfumed that
his approach needs no announcement. He
bathes thrice daily in hot water and flowers.
His ablutions are made poetical by the or-
chid, the chrysanthemum and the rose, with
each of which the Marquis is so infatuated
that his doting daughter deliberately effects a

278

CURRENT LITERATURE

combination of the characteristics of all three
in her own form and face. The task is
facilitated by the uncloying sweetness of this
nymph. She is just eighteen, distractingly
Japanese in tress, in gait and in that delicious
shame with which the maids of her exalted
social position become conscious of a male
presence. Her mauve kimono trails in gor-
geousness at her least movement, while her
pansy sash is like music flowing. She speaks
French with her father's fluency, and her
English is without a trace of accent. If the
father is perfectly lovely, the daughter is too
sweet for anything.

The Marquis Saionji, altho a scion of the
most ancient house in the whole Japanese
nobility, does not spring from that samurai or
warrior class of which the daimyo or "great
names" were the chief. The term samurai
is derived from the Nippon equivalent of "to
be on guard," and was first distinctively em-
ployed, say the learned, with reference to the
sentinels of the emperor's palace. Now, while
the ancestors of the samurai were pacing be-
fore the imperial portals, the ancestors of the
Saionji were court nobles within, setting up
and deposing emperors at their will and
pleasure. This was in the golden age of
Japanese classical literature in the eighth cen-
tury of our era, altho the pedigree of the
Marquis extends back some five thousand
years prior to those specious days. He is
privileged, in view of the antiquity of his
origin, to visit the temple of Ise Avhenever
the Emperor resorts thither to worship the
first imperial ancestor, represented by a
divine mirror. This divine mirror was given
to the first imperial ancestor, says one tradi-
tion, by a Saionji in whom was incarnated,
for the time being, the soul of the universe.
However this may be, the Marquis, altho
neither Shintoist nor Buddhist from convic-
tion, is a devout ancestor worshiper, the
shrines in his home at Oiso being of very
ancient origin.

Oiso, where the Prime Minister resides
with his family and to which he retires from
Tokyo whenever affairs of state can be put
aside, is likewise the abiding place of that
famed statesman, the Baron Suyematsu, and
of that illustrious father of modern Japan,
the Marquis Ito. The exquisite villas of these
ornaments of their age stand side by side as
if to symbolize the closeness of those ties by
which their occupants are bound together.
For the Marquis Ito is the political preceptor
of the Marquis Saionji. It was Ito who
urged the young Kin-Mochi Saionji to re-

pair, in hig twentieth year, to the capital of
France. Saionji, not yet a Marquis, was
then in the imperial suite at Kioto, the city in
whi'ch he was born in 1849. He found him-
self in Paris during those republican frenzies
to which the collapse of the third Napoleon's
empire gave rise. The young Japanese noble-
man went everywhere and saw everything.
He was not forced, like Ito, to view the
western world in the capacity of a sailor be-
fore the mast. He was too well born and too
rich, perhaps too fastidious. His brother,
the celebrated Marquis Toku-Daiji, was Lord
Chamberlain. Another brother, as the head
of the great banking and mercantile family
of Sumitomo and as a multi-millionaire own-
ing collieries and copper mines, provided him
with introductions to the great financiers of
Europe.

For ten years the handsome Saionji lived
with the gilded youth of the French capital.
He made himself at home in the Latin Quar-
ter, but he was welcomed in the abodes of
those legitimist aristocrats to whom the third
republic was an abomination and the second
empire a vulgar show. It was now that he
acquired his nice mastery of French, his taste
for coffee and rolls in bed, his preference for
scented cigarettes and his love for Watteau.
He has never forsaken these fancies of his
youth. Neither has he lost his taste for Vol-
taire and for the great French writers whose
works load his library shelves at Oiso. He
met and delighted the Comte de Chambord,
who so narrowly escaped being made the
legitimist King of France. But the hero of
the young Saionji was Gambetta. To the
fiery French statesman the present Prime
Minister of Japan is understood to owe his
tendency to a Jacobinical democracy of prin-
ciple. All the young men whom Gambetta
fascinated at this period were destined to dis-
tinguish themselves as diplomatists — the
brothers Cambon, Delcasse and even, among
the rest, this Japanese exile who tripped in
and out among them. The elegant part of
the youth's leisure was consecrated to art,
to the opera and to the acquisition of that
facility in making love to which he is in-
debted for his reputation as a lady killer.

This descendant of a hundred generations
of courtiers returned to the land of his birth
in time to hail Itagaki as the Rousseau of
Japan. Itagaki was the great democrat of
this era. Okuma, the plutocrat, led the solid-
ly respectable business element. Ito had put
himself at the head of a constitutional im-
perial party which hailed the emperor as the

THE CHAMPION OF RACIAL EQUALITY

Marquis Saionji, Prime Minister of Japan, is affirmed by society ladies who have met him to possess the most
perfect manners of the age, to be a squire of dames in the true sense and to manifest on any and every occasion a
chivalry unapproachable since the glorious age of Louis XIV, who took his bat of! to every milkmaid he met.

28o

CURRENT LITERATURE

source of all rightful authority. Saionji ap-
peared— he was now about thirty — with his
head full of Parisian Jacobinism and started
a paper inspired by the spirit of the French
Revolution. It was full of pleas for the
rights of man copiously presented in the
style of Robespierre, Danton and Marat. Sai-
onji called his sheet Oriental Liberty, and it
was the scandal of the peerage. Even Itag-
aki found it too revolutionary. Okuma
thought a reign of terror was impending in
Tokyo. Ito, then engaged upon his first draft
of the present constitution of Japan, visited
the Gallicized young revolutionary, who was
only too delighted to give up the cause of
mankind for the love of a friend. No attitude
could be more characteristic of Saionji's per-
fect politeness. He suppressed his paper,
foreswore the French Revolution, aban-
doned mankind and became a Marquis. Ito
got the title for him and had him made Min-
ister to Vienna in another few years.

At the court of the Hapsburgs Saionji
seemed to the manner born. His serious mo-
ments were consecrated to love, while his
leisure was given to waltzing and diplomacy.
The calves of his legs were ultimately ex-
hibited at the court of Berlin, where he
danced in an official capacity to the advan-
tage of his government. It would appear
to be in the minuet, however, the most im-
portant of the dance forms, that the grace of
the Marquis was overpoweringly displayed,
although the triumph was delayed until his
assumption of the post of Minister of Foreign
Affairs at home. Saionji designed the radi-
ant court dress, .too, in which the diplomatists
of Japan reveal the extent to which they can
adapt themselves to western culture. The
Marquis, be it observed, always wears Euro-
pean dress on official occasions, but in the
privacy of his exquisite villa at Oiso he dons
the silken gowns and beflowered sashes of a
Japanese millionaire. For he is a very rich
man, but no soldier. He is a knight of the
carpet variety, quite at his ease among
flowers and ladies. His important engage-
ments have never been military.

Among the cascades, lakes and streams of
his garden, where he sips tea beneath the
maple that he loves, he resembles nothing so
much as a detail in some color print by Ho-
kusai. He is so infatuated with landscape
that he will have a rock or a stone trans-
ported immense distances for the decoration
of his garden. If a boulder be too huge, it
is sedulously split and pieced together when
it reaches Oiso. The sums expended by the

Marquis in this way would be deemed great
even in New York. His villa has its suites
in the European style, adorned with the cost-
liest bric-a-brac, and its spacious Japanese
apartments with movable partitions and noth-
ing in the shape of furniture beyond the mat-
ting on the floor, a potted plant and a pair of
gilded screens. From the open door one gets
a glimpse of the garden wherein every tree
and shrub is adjusted to scale and each stone
has some poetical designation of its own.
Tiny bridges are thrown across the scented
streams, pagodas peep above the shrubbery,
and the Marquis reclines prettily on a bed of
flowers making verses in honor of the cherry
blossom, the lotus or the iris, according to
the season of the year and the inspiration of
the hour. In spite of his familiarity with
Europe, the Marquis has acquired no ease in
the practice of sitting on a chair. Supply
him with a few mats, however, in an unfur-
nished room, and he rolls in luxury in a
very literal sense. His taste for French
viands is noteworthy in one of his nation.
The Marquis has an expensive chef in his
service, but his Japanese dinners are also
among the events of the social season in
Tokyo.

Personally, as has been noted, the Japa-
nese Prime Minister has a reputation for in-
sincerity. The trait is attributed to the thoro-
ness of the diplomatic training he received in
Europe. His political opponents are con-
vinced that, having been taught by his for-
eign mentors to despise the religions of his
native land, and having imperfectly assimi-
lated the western ethical code, he is now as
melancholy a moral degenerate as can well
be imagined. These disparagements emanate
from the very critics who insist that as a
speaker he is not worth listening to, altho
his eloquence has drawn tears from the eyes
of the heir to the throne. The Marquis is,
indeed, one of the most brilliant talkers in
Japan. His charm makes . him a social con-
queror apart from the prestige of his exalted
official position and his even more exalted
birth. His manners are the prettiest . of the
innumerable, . pretty. thhigs about him. Noth-
ing can be conceived more graceful than his
mode of .kissing the hand of any continental
European lady who happens to adorn the
diplomatic circle at Tokyo. Yet he is ac-
cused of having no heart. But what a per-
ambulating poem he is ! Such a living
grasp of the sun-king's spirit of con-
descension ! Such a capacity to cull the very
best from it !

Literature and Art

A NEW AMERICAN SCULPTOR OF GENIUS

'!'.JV1M0NG the artists of all nationalities
^' now laboring in Paris, there is a
young American who already has
achieved envied distinction, and who
in the future is almost certain to reflect high
credit upon the land of his birth. The name
of this genius — for as such he is hailed by
high French authorities — is Andrew O'Con-
nor. He is a sculptor and a disciple of Rodin,
and altho but little over thirty years old, his
work, which already is considerable, has at-
tracted unusual attention among artists and
critics, who unhesitatingly predict for him a
great career.

O'Connor is of Irish origin, and was
born in Worcester, Mass., in 1874. His
artistic talent showed
itself early. At four-
teen he was expert
with the chisel, and
was working with his
father at the rather
thankless occupation of
producing designs and
monuments for cem-
eteries. In 1900 he
exhibited a bust which
was much admired by
artists in this country.
For a period he studied
in London under the
auspices of Sargent.
Some very creditable
examples of his work
may be seen in the
bas - reliefs adorning
St. Bartholomew's
Church, New York.
These decorations are
full of life and expres-
sion, and stamped with
such originality and
distinction as to con-
vince a discerning eye
of their exceptional
worth. One can now
readily trace in them
the characteristics
which were to develop
in the more congenial
atmosphere of Paris.

ANDREW O'CONNOR

A young American sculptor who shows the influence
of Rodin and Meunier, and is achieving enviable dis-
tinction in the Paris art world.

This young American artist has recently
produced work of so rare a character as to
challenge the admiration of the Parisian art
critics, who, as every one knows, are chary
of enthusiastic praise. They declare that
O'Connor's art shows kinship with that of
Rodin and Meunier, and they do not hesitate
to couple certain of his sculptures with the
masterpieces of those famous artists. There
is in his work a quality that reminds one of
Rodin's characteristic statuary, and yet does
not suggest the slightest idea of a copy. One
sees that the pupil has been strongly influenced
by the master, but this influence has not al-
tered a certain modesty and delicacy which he
possesses in a marked degree, and which are
not found in the sculp-
tures of Rodin. The
trait of delicacy which
shines through O'Con-
nor's most strenuous
conceptions imparts to
his work an individual-
ity which has not failed
to evoke the admira-
tion of the Parisian
art world. In a recent
issue of L'Art (Paris),
M. Maurice Guillemot,
a distinguished critic,
has an article which is
remarkable not only
for its warm praise of
O'Connor, but for its
friendly attitude to-
ward American art and
artists. He calls at-
tention to the high ap-
preciation of Chartran
and Meissonier shown
in America, and ex-
presses gratification
that America, in its
turn, is now to con-
tribute its share of
esthetic ideas to the
Old World. He goes
on to say:

"It is encouraging to
look forward to an
American art which will

282

CURRENT LITERATURE

"THE OWL"

A funeral monument conceived by O'Connor in a
spirit that would do credit to Baudelaire or Poe.

be not merely a temporary phenomenon, but the
expression and synthesis of the life of a whole
people. There are in America at the present time
strong individualities which are about to be re-
vealed to the world. The period has gone by
when Americans were content to purchase our
marbles and objects of art and to adopt our
historic buildings, — to copy, in a word, what was
already in existence, without taking heed of the
progress of the centuries and the exigencies of
the present. This habit of refined taste developed

by the collector has, nevertheless, contributed to
original production, and a striking example of this
fact is found in Andrew O'Connor.

"There is in him an energy, a sort of brutality,
that will easily triumph over a certain mannerism
which does not naturally belong to him. The
clean-shaven face, the high brow crowned with
rebellious and ruddy locks, the vigorous torso, the
powerful hands, the great energy concealed under
an outward timidity, the sincere convictions and
sane ambition shining in his clear glance, give
testimony of a man who goes straight to his aim,
of a strong will and of progressive instincts. His
chief idols are Donatello and Rodin, and it is the
latter who has had most influence upon him. He
actually shares in one of the gifts of the incom-
parable master, — that of a cunning distribution of
lights and shadows in sculpture. One finds in his
work no literal copying of the model, no modeling
from nature, but, on the contrary, a sort of
superb augmentation, a lyric exaggeration of
strength in reserve, a certain majesty which is the
result of harmony and combination. The fact
that he makes use of symbols has but slight sig-
nificance. In that figure seated with the casque
and buckler, in the woman holding a palm, the
expression is in no sense due to these accessories.
Indeed, these almost escape notice, so strong is
the effect of the ensemble. In his atelier, in the
Boulevard Garibaldi, there are a number of works
in process of completion : enormous sketches, clay
that looks as if it had been tortured, triumphant
forms. One perceives here the artist's courageous
struggle with matter — a struggle that always ends
in victory. You see matter conquered, obedient,
submissive, and you experience a species of
pleasure in the brutal composition with its black
shadows and accentuated harmonious reliefs."

O'Connor's most remarkable achievement
thus far is a funeral monument, "The Owl,"
conceived in a spirit that would do credit to
Baudelaire or Poe. This Egyptian phantasy
is pronounced by M. Guillemot an extraordi-
nary piece of monumental sculpture. To quote :

"This gigantic bird of night looms up from its
pedestal, a startling apparition, enigmatic and dis-
quieting. It will have an interior stairway, and
the eyes are to be illumined with electric lights,
the tomb being thus converted into a lighthouse.
Into this mysterious apparition of the night the
artist has put tragic power, just as into his carya-
tides he has put a certain charming grace. But
in all of his figures, even in the most charming,
there is always a certain reserve strength, a certain
energy, that save them from that species of Italian
archness which is the reproach of our medieval
sculpture and of our cathedrals. There are those
who imagine that work of this kind on a gjand
scale is a very simple thing, and that the principal
merit belongs to the founder and workman. This
is a grave error. Colossal sculpture has an
esthetic of its own which even many artists have
no suspicion of. To erect a statue in the open
air on a monumental base, on the upper cornice of
a building, or on a rocky height, is a difficult
artistic feat. In the first place, the general aspect
must be satisfying, agreeable and comprehensible.
It is necessary, further, that the details shall be
visible, and that this effect shall be gained without

LITERATURE AND ART

2S3

detriment to the ensemble ; finally it is
essential that the idea which has in-
spired the artist and which contributes
the raison d'etre of the work, be un-
derstood."

The rare qualities here de-
scribed receive vivid expression,
according to the critic, in O'Con-
nor's sinister "Owl." Is this equiv-
alent to saying that the young
American genius has solved suc-
cessfully all the formidable prob-
lems of colossal sculpture? By
no means, says M. Guillemot.
But what he undoubtedly possesses
is the instinct which enables him to
grasp the essential requirements of
tthis branch of his art. M. Guille-
anot's critique concludes as follows:

"He has outlived all the influences of
his early period, and has succeeded in
realizing his personal conceptions.
Living in the inevitable environment of
Rodin, towards whom his temperament
iraws him, and for whom he professes
the greatest admiration (contrary to
so many self-styled French sculptors),
he will develop still greater capabilities,
for it must be remembered that he is
but thirty-one years of age.

"Venice, in Voltaire's story, played
the host to kings : Paris even more
willingly offers hospitality to artists.
It is the Mecca to which they all come,
and if talent confers naturalization, the
young master of whom we have writ-
ten is wholly worthy of that honor."

"INSPIRATION"
(By Andrew O'Connor)
An allegorical study exhibiting rare traits that have evoked the
praise of French art critics.

THE UNORIGINALITY OF GREAT MINDS

3 HEN a man aims at originality,"
Lowell once said, "he acknowledges
himself consciously unoriginal. The
great fellows have always let the
stream of their activity flow quietly." In illus-
tration of the general principle here laid down
may be quoted a passage from Prof. Barrett
Wendell's suggestive lectures on the "Temper
of the Eighteenth Century in English Liter-
ature." Professor Wendell is speaking of
Shakespeare, and he says that a distinguishing
characteristic of the greatest of dramatic
poets was "a somewhat sluggish avoidance of
needless invention. When anyone else had
done a popular thing, Shakespeare was pretty
sure to imitate him and to do it better. But
he hardly ever did anything first."

Is it true, then, that the greatest minds are
unoriginal? Prof. Brander Matthews, who

takes up the question in Scrihner's (Feb-
ruary), is inclined to answer it in the affirma-
tive. He writes:

"This 'sluggish avoidance of needless inven-
tion.' which is characteristic of Shakespeare —
and of Moliere also, although in a less degree —
is evidenced not only by their eager adoption of
an accepted type of play, an outer form of ap-
proved popularity, it is obvious also in their plots,
wherein we find situations, episodes, incidents
drawn from all sorts of sources. In all the two-
score of Shakespeare's plays, comic and tragic
and historic, there are very few indeed the stories
of which are wholly of his own making. The
invention of Moliere is not aulte so sluggish ; and
there are probably three of four of his plays the
plots of which seem to be more or less his own.;
but even in building up these scant exceptions he
never hesitated to levy on the material available."

But if the greatest poets are often unorig-
inal, they are nevertheless imaginative in the

284

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE ENTOMBMENT OF CHRIST

One of O'Connor's bas-reliefs in St. Bartholomew's Church, New York, showing natural traits which have
J)een greatly developed by contact with Rodin and the modern French school of sculpture.

highest degree. In default of "the lesser in-
vention" they have "the larger imagination ;"
and Professor Matthews draws a sharp dis-
tinction between the two. "Invention," he
says, "can do no more than devise; imagina-
tion can interpret. The details of 'Romeo and
Juliet' may be more or less contained in the
tale of the Italian novelist ; but the inner mean-
ing of that ideal tragedy of youthful love is
seized and set forth only by the English
dramatist." To quote further:

"La Fontaine, one of the most individual
of French poets, devised only a few — and not
the best — of the delightful fables he related with
unfailing felicity. Calderon, who was the most
imaginative of the dramatists of Spain, was
perhaps the least inventive of them all, con-
tentedly availing himself of the situations and
even of the complete plots of his more fertile
fellow-playwrights; and two of his most charac-
teristic dramas, for example, two in which he has
most adequately expressed himself, the 'Alcalde
of Zalamea' and the 'Physician of His Own
Honor,' are borrowed almost bodily from his
fecund contemporary Lope de Vega. Racine
seems to have found a special pleasure in treat-
ing anew the themes Euripides had already dealt
with almost a score of centuries earlier. Tenny-
son, to take another example, displayed not a
little of this 'sluggish avoidance of needless in-
vention,' often preferring to apply his imagination
to the transfiguring of what Malory pr Miss Mit-

ford, Froude or Freeman had made ready for his
hand."

We are sometimes apt to forget, continues
Professor Matthews, that it requires a higher
talent to vitalize and make significant the uni-
versal human motives than to invent fantastic
tales. " 'Called Back' and 'She' — good enough
stories, both of them, each in its kind — did not
demand a larger imaginative efifort on the part
of their several authors than was required to
write the 'Rise of Silas Lapham' or 'Tom
Sawyer' ;" and Anthony Hope, when he turned
from his imaginative kingdom of Zenda to
grapple with the realities of life and character,
was not entirely successful. The case of the
creator of Sherlock Holmes yields another
illustration of the general truth for which
Professor Matthews <:ontends. "The tales
that dealt with Sherlock Holmes and Briga-
dier Gerard and the White Company," he
says, "are works of invention mainly; and
the writer had proved himself capable of
adroit and ingenious invention." On the
other hand, Conan Doyle's attempts to deal
with every-day themes have been to a large
degree failures. He has at his command "the
more showy invention," but he cannot attain
to "the larger imagination."

LITERATURE AND ART

285

LONGFELLOW: OUR AMERICAN LAUREATE

)NGFELLOW is "the true Ameri-
can laureate," says Prof. Harry
Thurston Peck, of Columbia Uni-
versity, and must be accorded the
title for the good reason that "no one else
has written lines that have sunk so deeply
down into the national consciousness, making
their strong appeal to men and women of
every rank and station, and of every degree
of culture and refinement."

This tribute has special vividness at the
present time, in view of the widespread inter-
est in the celebration of the centennial of
Longfellow's birth. The ceremonies are in
the hands of the Cambridge Historical Soci-
ety, and include a public exhibition of Long-
fellow "editions" and memorabilia in the Cam-
bridge Public Library; appropriate exercises
in the Cambridge schools on the day of the
poet's birth (February 27) ; and a public meet-
ing in the Sanders Theatre, with William
Dean Howells, President Charles W. Eliot,
Col. Thomas Wentworth Higginson, and
Prof. Charles Eliot Norton as the speakers.

Longfellow's publishers, Messrs. Hough-
ton, Mifflin & Company, have appropriately

issued a biographical sketch and appreciation*
of the poet by Professor Norton, who long
enjoyed his friendship and now writes: "T
wish I could give to others the true image of
him which remains in my heart. It may be
learned from his own sweetest verse, for no
poet ever wrote with more unconscious and
complete sincerity of self-expression." Profes-
sor Norton writes further:

"His readers could not but entertain for him a
sentiment more personal and affectionate than
that which any other poet awakened. It was not
by depth or novelty of thought that he interested
them, nor did he move them by passionate inten-
sity of emotion, or by profound spiritual insight,
or by power of dramatic representation and in-
terpretation of life. He set himself neither to
propound nor to solve the enigmas of existence.
No, the briefer poems by which he won and held
the hearts of his readers were the expression of
simple feeling, of natural emotion, not of excep-
tional spiritual experience, but of such as is com-
mon to men of good intent. In exquisitely mod-
ulated verse he continued to give form to their
vague ideals, and utterance to their stammering
aspirations. In revealing his own pure and sin-

•Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. A Sketch of His
Life. By Charles Eliot Norton. Together with Long-
fellow's Chief Autobiographical Poems. Houghton,
MiiBin & Company.

LONGFELLOW'S HOME IN CAMBRIDGE
It was here that Longfellow lived during the heyday of his career, and here that he entertained Lowell,
Agassiz, Emerson, Hawthorne, Sumner, Fields, and George William Curtis.

286

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE HOUSE IN PORTLAND IN WHICH LONG-
FELLOW WAS BORN A HUNDRED
YEARS AGO

In 1807 Portland, Me., was "one of the pleasantest
towns in New England," says Prof. Charles Eliot
Norton, and "the spirit into which Longfellow was
born, and of which his own nature was one of the
fairest outcomes — the spirit of the New England of
the early nineteenth century — is embodied in his
verse."

cere nature, he helped others to recognize their
own better selves. The strength and simplicity of
his moral sentiment made his poems the more at-
tractive and helpful to the mass of ,men, who
care, as I have said, rather for the ethical signifi-
cance than for the art of poetry; but the beauty
of his verse enforced its teaching, and the melody
of its form was consonant with the sweetness of
its spirit. In the series of delightful stories which
year after year he told in the successive parts of
'The Wayside Inn,' there were few which did not
have for motive some wise lesson of life, some
doctrine of charity, gentleness, and faith. The
spirit of humanity, of large hope, of cheerful con-
fidence in good, — this spirit into which he was
born, and of which his own nature was one of the
fairest outcomes, — this spirit of the New England
of the early nineteenth century, — is embodied in
his verse."

Perhaps the two most interesting contribu-
tions to the literature of the Longfellow Cen-
tennial are Harry Thurston Peck's, in Mun-
sey's, from which are taken the opening
phrases of this article; and Francis Gribble's,
in Putnam's Monthly. Professor Peck's at-
titude toward his subject is as whole-heartedly
appreciative as Mr. Gribble's is coldly critical.
The former finds in all the lines of Longfel-
low the "essential vivifying spirit" and "clear
unerring tones" ; while the latter says : "The
standing marvel to the student of Longfellow's
work is that a man with so commonplace a
mind should occasionally write so well."

It is undeniable, observes Professor Peck,
that much of what Longfellow wrote has been
so quoted and so many times recited as to seem
trite; but, nevertheless, he adds, "his 'Psalm

of Life,' and even the imperfect stanzas of
'Excelsior,' have power to stir the blood; and
what is more, they point always upward to a
noble and inspiring ideal of human life — of a
life that is more than the life of the flesh,
since it means strenuous effort and high en-
deavor toward truth and righteousness and
justice." And Longfellow, continues the
same writer, was, in a very real sense, the
exponent of what has lately come to be known
as "the simple life." To quote again :

"The poet's eye can see the fineness and the
charm of what belongs to every-day experience.
The village blacksmith, swart and strong beside
his forge, where the flames flare out from the
blown fire, and the sparks leap in coruscating
cascades as his hammer smites the led-hot metal
on the anvil ; the wreck of the coasting vessel
overwhelmed by mountainous billows, while the
captain's daughter prays to Christ, who stilled the
sea at Galilee ; the old clock chiming on the
stairs; the hanging of the crane in the neAy-built
house ; the musing figure on the historic bridge —
here are themes which in their usual aspect are
quite commonplace, but which under Longfellow's
magic touch have become instinct with an ex-
quisite beauty to which he has opened every read-
er's eyes."

If Longfellow had never written anything
except "Evangeline," "The Courtship of Miles
Standish" and "Hiawatha," says Professor
Peck, his place as American laureate would
be secure.

"Through these poems he peopled the waste
places of our prosaic land with the creations of
his fancy. In 'Hiawatha' he stretched out his
hand and set the seal of his genius upon the
West, giving us in it a poem which is not far
from being an epic, sprung from the soil and from
the forest of aboriginal America. He had, in-
deed, the epic poet's gift of true constructiveness.
As Mr. Horace Scudder said of him, 'He was
first of all a composer, and he saw his subjects
in their relation rather than in their essence,'
though he saw them in their essence, too. What
could be nobler, and what could sound more per-
fectly the motif of his story of 'Evangeline,' than
the wonderful poem in which the forest primeval,
with its murmuring trees, its long dim vistas, and
the far-off disconsolate accent of the ocean, at-
tunes our minds, as it were, to a symphony in
which unsophisticated nature and the sorrow of
love are anxiously and poignantly intermingled.
Here he is certainly American in theme and
thought alike; nor is there any trace of that
bastard Americanism which is sordid, or boast-
ful, or ignoble."

In presenting the obverse view of Longfel-
low's genius, Mr. Gribble takes the ground
that Longfellow was a true poet, but can
never be regarded as a poet of the first rank.
Some of the reasons for this opinion he sets
forth as follows ;

LITERATURE AND ART

287

"A poet of the first rank, Longfellow obviously
was not, and, for obvious reasons, could not, have
been. The manner of his life presented insuper-
able obstacles. His very virtues stood in his way,
since they were virtues which a great poet cannot
afford. The great poets have either lived in re-
volt, like Byron and Shelley, or else they have
lived in seclusion, like Wordsworth. Longfellow
did neither of these things, but adopted a con-
ventional middle course. The one great sorrow
of his life came after his work was done, too late
to be a part of his education. For the rest, his
life was placid, happy, uneventful, busy, devoid
of exciting incidents, but full of trivial duties.
First, he was a traveler, rather homesick, travel-
ing only for the purpose of learning foreign Ian- ■
guages. Then he was a professor, happily mar-
ried, spending most of his time in lecturing and
looking over exercises, and the rest in the culti-
vated gaieties of a university circle. Finally, he
sat at the receipt of homage, received visits from
admiring strangers, and good-naturedly wrote
autographs at the rate of seventy a day. It was
an admirably rounded life — on the whole a very
useful life, — but it was not the sort of life in
which a man of genius can come into his king-
dom, or indeed the sort of life which one expects
a man of genius to consent to live."

Mr. Gribble thinks that Longfellow was
predestined to be "the poet of the obvious and
the humdrum." There have been plenty of
others, we are reminded, but "he towers
above them." We read further:

"His was a limited genius of the sort that needs
to be sheltered to reach its full development. He
had a keen sense of the beautiful, but also a keen
appreciation of the orderly. He had nothing to
say — no message to deliver — that could not just
as well be delivered from the pulpit. . . . And,
of course, he paid the price of his docility. His
limitations as a poet are precisely the limitations
of the man who is perpetually seeking edification
from the pulpit. It would be untrue to say that
he makes no appeal to intellectual readers, but he
certainly makes none to their intellect. An intel-
lectual reader may admire his work as he ad-
mires a pretty child, or a pretty piece of em-
broidery, or even a simple plaintive ballad. But
the effect passes 'like the ceasing of exquisite
music,' and no permanent trace remains. There
has, one feels, been no new thought, and no fresh
reading of the riddle. The Sunday's sermon has
been versified ; edification has been set to music :
the conventional has been restated less conven-
tionally, the obvious — or what passes for such
with the church-goers — has been embellished by
some beautifully pathetic anecdote. Longfellow,
in short, has played a suitable voluntary at the
close of the evening service.

"No doubt it was largely because the obvious
thus bounded his horizon that Longfellow became
so quickly and so widely popular, achieving in-
stantaneously the recognition for which Words-
worth had to wait through many weary years.
His readers had never realized before how beauti-
ful were the implications of their own quite com-
monplace ideas; and the poet who had shown
them this was rewarded in his later years with an
almost embarrassing homage."

THE LONGFELLOW BUST IN WESTMINSTER
ABBEY

Longfellow is read in England even more widely
than Tennyson.

Between estimates so contradictory as
Harry Thurston Peck's and Francis Cribble's
the average reader may well feel bewildered.
But when it comes to a question of the per-
manency of Longfellow's reputation, there can
be no two opinions. For fifty years he has
held a supreme place in the affections of the
American people. His bust stands in the
Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey, and he
has been more read in England than even
Tennyson. "One has merely to glance at any
detailed catalog of the translations from
Longfellow's works," says Colonel Higginson.,
in his Life of Longfellow, "to measure the
vast extent of his fame." The same writer
adds :

"The list includes thirty-five versions of whole
books or detached poems in German, twelve in
Italian, nine each in French and Dutch, seven in
Swedish, six in Danish, five in Polish, three in
Portuguese, two each in Spanish. Russian, Hun-
garian and Bohemian, with single translations in
Latin, Hebrew, Chinese, Sanskrit, Marathi, and
Judea-German — yielding one hundred versions al-
together, extending into eighteen languages, apart
from the original English. There is no evidence
that any other English-speaking poet of the last
century has been so widely appreciated."

288

CURRENT LITERATURE

"THE ONLY GREAT MIND THAT AMERICA HAS
PRODUCED IN LITERATURE"

F CRITICS were asked to name the
greatest figure in American litera-
ture, the choice would probably nar-
row itself down to Hawthorne, Poe,
Whitman and Emerson. Each of the four has
his champions and would be accorded suprem-
acy by his own particular admirers; but few
of us have had the opportunity or the inclina-
tion to balance the claims of all. It is surely
significant that Prof. George E. Woodberry,
a biographer of Poe and of Hawthorne, and
a close student of Whitman, sets upon Emer-
son the stamp of final distinction conveyed
by the phrase at the head of this article. The
characterization appears in Mr. Woodberry's
new contribution* to the "English Men of
Letters" series, and is the more remarkable in
view of his confession that he has approached
Emerson with a lack of sympathy amounting
almost to repulsion. "I have little intellectual
sympathy with him in any way," he says, "but
I feel in his work the presence of a great
mind." He continues:

"His is the only great mind that America has
produced in literature. His page is as fresh in
Japan and by the Ganges as in Boston ; and it
may well be that in the blending of the East and
West that must finally come in civilization the
limitations that awaken distrust in the Occidental
mind may be advantages when he is approached
from the Oriental slope of thought, and his works
may prove one of the reconciling influences of
that larger world. His material is permanent;
there will always be men in his stage of mental
culture or, at least, of his religious development;
his literary merit is sufficient to secure long life to
his writings. For this reason his fame seems per-
manent, and with it his broad contact with the
minds of men. However unconvincing he may be
in detail, or in his general theory and much of his
theoretic counsel, he convinces men of his great-
ness. One has often in reading him that feeling
of eternity in the thought which is the sign royal
of greatness."

It is in Emerson's poems that Professor
W^oodberry is most conscious of this great-
ness, in these that he finds "the flower of his
mind." Emerson's poetic expression may
have been faulty and deficient in the matter
of technique, but "the technical quality of his
verse," says Mr. Woodberry, "is immaterial
and should be neglected and forgotten, so far
as possible; its value lies in its original power
of genius and owes little to the forms." The

•Ralph Waldo Emerson. By George Edward Wood-
berry. The Macmillan Company,

"Poems" should be taken as "autobiography
in a very strict sense," revealing to us the
real self of Emerson, "secret and private and
most dear to him." To quote further:

"Emerson's poetry does not make a wide ap-
peal ; it has been for a select audience, and per-
haps it may always be so ; yet to some minds it
seems of a higher value than his prose. He was
more free, more completely enfranchised, in poe-
try. . . . There is a vehemence, a passion of
life in 'Bacchus' that no prose could have clothed.
The whole world takes on novelty in the verse ;
on all natural objects there is a luster as if they
were fresh bathed with dew and morning, and
there is strange coloring in all ; not that he is a
color poet; he does not enamel his lines as the
grass is enameled with wild flowers ; but the verse
is pervaded with the indescribable coloring of
mountain sides, and the browns and greens of
wide country prospects. This luster of nature is
one of his prime and characteristic traits. There
is, too, a singular nakedness of outline as of
things seen in the clarity of New England air.
His philosophy even helps him to melt and fuse
the scene at other times, and gives impressionist
effects, transparencies of nature, unknown aspects,
the stream of the flowing azure, the drift of ele-
mental heat over waking lands, the insubstantial
and dreaming mountain mass; all this is natural
impressionism in the service of philosophy."

In the "Essays" of Emerson, as in his
"Poems," Professor Woodberry discerns
mind, rather than literary instinct, and Emer-
son's mind, he avers, was predisposed to a re-
ligious interpretation of life and preoccupied
with morals. "He was by type a New Eng-
land minister, and he never lost the mold
either in personal appearance or in mental
behavior; all his ideas wear the black coat."
To continue the argument:

"He was a man of one idea, the moral senti-
ment, tho the singleness of the idea was com-
patible in its application to life with infinite di-
versity in its phases; wherever his theme may
begin it becomes religious, he exhorts, and all
ends at last in the primacy of morals. The 'Es-
says' are the best of lay-sermons, but their laicism
is only the king's incognito. He was so much a
man ot religion that he undervalued literature,
science, and art, and their chief examples, because
they viewed life from a different point, just as
on his first visit to England he thought Landor
and Carlyle, Wordsworth and Coleridge, failed of
the full measure of men because they were not
overwhelmingly filled with the moral sentiment
and its importance. In both cases the view taken
is professional. Literature enters into the 'Essays'
as salt and savor; but their end is not literary.
Emerson in the substance of his works belongs
with the divine writers, the religious spiritualists,
the sacred moralists, the mystic philosophers, in

LITERATURE AND ART

289

whose hands all things turn to religion, to whom
all life is religion, and nothing moves in the world
except to divine meanings."

According to this line of reasoning, Emer-
son vi^as "not a great writer in the sense in
which Bacon, Montaigne or Pascal are great
writers, but he was a writer with greatness
of mind; just as he was not a great poet, but
a poet with greatness of imagination." He
helped men to larger truth and the assurance
of the divine and infinite nature of the soul.
He became "the priest of those who have
gone out of the church, but who must yer
retain some emotional religious life, some
fragment of the ancient heavens, some literary
expression of the feeling of the divine." And,
finally, he inspired and vivified the whole
nation. As Professor Woodberry puts it :

"His Americanism undoubtedly endears him
to his countrymen. But it is not within nar-
row limits of political or worldly wisdom that
his influence and teachings have their effect ;
but in the invigoration of the personal life
with which his pages are electric. No man rises
from reading him without feeling more un-
shackled. To obey one's disposition is a broad
charter, and sends the soul to all seas. The dis-
contented, the troubled in conscience, the revolu-
tionary spirits of all lands are his pensioners ; the
seed of their thoughts is here, and also the spirit
that strengthens them in lonely toils, and perhaps
in desperate tasks, for the wind of the world
blows such winged seed into far and strange
places. It is not by intellectual light, but by this
immense moral force that his genius works in the
world. He was so great because he embodied the
American spirit in his works and was himself a
plain and shining example of it; and an Amer-
ican knows not whether to revere more the simple
manhood of his personal life in his home and in
the world, or that spiritual light which shines
from him, and of which the radiance flowed from

PROF. GEORGE £. WOODBERRY

Who declares, in a new biographical study, his con-
viction that Emerson was "not a great writer in the
.serise in which Bacon, Montaigne or Pascal were great
writers, but he was a writer with greatness of mind;
just as he was not a great poet, but a poet with great-
ness of imagination."

him even in life. That light all men who knew
him saw as plainly as Carlyle when he watched
him go up the hill at Craigenputtock and disap-
pear over the crest 'like an angel.' "

WHISTLER'S CHIEF CLAIM TO ORIGINALITY

"ACCORDING to Elizabeth Luther
Cary, a versatile interpreted of many
|j temperaments, it is the "impulse to-
la ward reality," united with a"desire to
realize the unseen," that inspires the artistic
mind to its highest achievement. Miss Cary
offers this generalization in her new book* on
Whistler, and anticipates objection to it by
pointing out that men of the most diverse na-
tures may each endeavor to portray the world
that is realest to them, and yet may produce
work that lies at the opposite poles of artistic
expression. In this sense, but in this sense

•The Works of James McNeill Whistler. By Eliza-
beth Luther Cary. Moffat, Yard & Company.

only, Whistler and his best-known contem-
poraries— such men as Manet, Watts, Ros-
setti, Burne-Jones and Monet — may all be de-
scribed as artistic realists. "Like the most
distinguished of his contemporaries," says
Miss Cary, "Whistler was completely serious,
and in representing reality he looked beyond
the external, but he went further than any of
them in his discrimination of the relations be-
tween what he painted and what he did not
paint, which constitutes, I think, his chief
claim to originality." She goes on to explain:

"In his portraits he not only refrains from flat-
tering his sitters, — that is the crudest possible
statement of it, — he refrains from giving them an

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CURRENT LITERATURE

undue relative importance. His exacting research
into the separate individualities leaves him curi-
ously free to obey the intuition by which he
knows how much to insist upon the value oi those
individualities. Apparently the 'Comedie Hu-
maine' was continually in his mind as a woven
tapestry might hang in a studio against which to
try the tone and color of the figure to be repro-
duced. His Carlyle, under this appraising ob-
servation, is not the great man of the world, but
one of the world's great men and not the greatest
of them."

Miss Gary finds in Whistler's portraits of
external nature "the same imaginative feeling
for the vast background and the small part
played by any single scene in the continuous
and overwhelming panorama."

"His streets belong to the town, his waves to
the ocean, his rivers and their banks to the wide
horizons on which they vanish, his doming skies
to the envelope of air and mists that wraps about
the whirling earth. The universe rolls away on
every side from the fragment of his choice, and
those for whom the universal has a supreme im-
portance are conscious that under no pressure of
momentary interest is he guilty of shutting out
the view. The immediate view is never the main
purpose of his picture. However he may con-
centrate attention upon a single point of interest,
there is always the gradual recession of an in-
finitely extended environment."

This unobtrusiveness of Whistler, says

Miss Gary, in concluding, seems to be less that
of modesty than of wisdom. "It is the lesson
of cities, of wide experience, of the traveled
mind." In a word, it is "the mood of modern
civilization." Moreover :

"It is a mood that in Whistler's painting does
not appeal to the many, the austere method of
its expression being against a popular appeal, yet
it is the mood that most leveals the attitude of
the modern mind toward the populous scene. It
is far removed from the old, simple aw;; in the
presence of natural forces ; it is not of the nature
even of reverence, but it marks intense apprecia-
tion of the scale on which the universe is con-
structed, and it testifies to the sense of propor-
tion at the root of all greatness. We cannot then
think of its possessor as moving in x narrow
round, nor could we if his work contained but
one of the numerous fields of observation in
which Whistler was at home. Had he been only
the painter of night, as most commonly he is
called, his revelation of its dim secrets would
have entitled him to our acknowledgment of his
penetrating and soaring imagination. Had he
been only a portrait painter his descriptions of
human characters would have made it impossible
to speak of him as restricted. Had he traversed
his career with no other tool of trade thafl his
etching needle, we should have ber.i obliged to
recognize the amplitude of his mental equipment.
In reviewing the fruitful outcome of all his
labors, we must decide that more than any other
modern painter he is the classic exponent cf the
modern spirit."

HAMLET AND DON QUIXOTE— THE TWO ETERNAL

HUMAN TYPES

By a strange omission, this lecture by Ivan Turgenieff, the greatest prose-writer in Russian
literature, is not included in either of the standard editions of Turgenieff published in English.
Yet it is one of the greatest pieces of literary criticism produced in the nineteenth century. It
was first delivered forty-seven years ago, and in Europe it has become a classic. The present
translation is made by David A. Modell, from the Russian original, and is believed to be the
first complete translation of this lecture ever printed in EngHsh. The address is here given
in full, except that some of the prefatory and concluding remarks, intended for hearers rather
than readers, have been omitted.

The first edition of Shakespeare's tragedy,
"Hamlet," and the first part of Cervantes' "Don
Quixote" appeared in the same year at the very
beginning of the seventeenth century.

This coincidence seems to me significant . . .
It seems to me that in these two types are em-
bodied two opposite fundamental peculiarities of
man's nature — the two ends of the axis about
which it turns. I think that all people belong,
more or less, to one of these two types; that
nearly every one of us resembles either Don
Quixote or Hamlet. In our day, it is true, the
Hamlets have become far more numerous than
the Don Quixotes, but the Don Quixotes have
not become extinct.

Let me explain.

All people live — consciously or unconsciously —
on the strength of their principles, their ideals;
that is, by virtue of what they regard as truth,
beauty, and goodness. Many get their ideal all
ready-made, in definite, historically-developed
forms. They live trying to square their lives
with this ideal, deviating from it at times, under
the influence of passions or incidents, but neither
reasoning about it nor questioning it Others,
on the contrary, subject it to the analysis of
their own reason. Be this as it may, I think I
shall not err too much in saying that for all
people this ideal — this basis and aim of their
existence — is to be found either outside of them

LITERATURE AND ART

or within them; in other words, for every one
of us it is either his own / that forms the pri-
mary consideration or something else which he
considers superior. I may be told that reality
does not permit of such sharp demarcations ;
thai in the very same living being both consid-
erations may alternate, even becoming fused to
a certain extent. But I do not mean to affirm
the impossibility of. change and contradiction in
human nature ; I wish merely to point out two
different attitudes of man to his ideal. And
now I will endeavor to show in what way, to
my mind, these two different relations are em-
bodied in the two types I have selected.

Let us begin with Don Quixote.

What does Don Quixote represent? We shall
not look at him with the cursory glance that
stops at superficialities and trifles. We shall not
see in Don Quixote merely "the Knight of the
sorrowful figure" — a figure created for the pur-
pose of ridiculing the old-time romances of
knighthood. It is known that the meaning of
this character had expanded under its immortal
creator's own hand, and that the Don Quixote
of the second part of the romance is an amiable
companion to dukes and duchesses, a wise pre-
ceptor to the squire-governor — no longer the Don
Quixote he appears in the first part, especially
at the beginning of the work ; not the odd and
comical crank, who is constantly belabored by
a rain of blows. I will endeavor, therefore, to
go to the very heart of the matter. A. repeat;
What does Don Quixote represent?

Faith, in the first place; faith in something
eternal, immutable; faith in the truth, in short,
existing outside of the individual, which cannot
easily be attained by him, but which is attainable
only by constant devotion and the power of self-
abnegation. Don Quixote is entirely consumed
with devotion to his ideal, for the sake of which
he is ready to suffer every possible privation and
to sacrifice his life; his life itself he values only
in so far as it can become a means for the in-
carnation of the ideal, for the establishment of
truth and justice on earth. I may be told that
this ideal is borrowed by his disordered imag-
ination from the fanciful world of knightly ro-
mance. Granted — and this makes up the comical
side of Don Quixote; but the ideal itself re-
mains in all its immaculate purity. To live for
one's self, to care for one's self, Don Quixote
would consider shameful. He lives — if I may
so express myself — outside of himself, entirely
for others, for his brethren, in order to abolish
evil, to counteract the forces hostile to mankind
— wizards, giants, in a word, the oppressors.
There is no trace of egotism in him; he is not
concerned with himself, he is wholly a self-sac-

rifice— appreciate this word; he believes, believes
firmly, and without circumspection. Therefore
is he fearless, patient, content with the humblest
fare, with the poorest clothes — what cares he for
such things ! Timid of heart, he is in spirit great
aiid brave; his touching piety does not restrict
his freedom; a stranger to variety, he doubts
not himself, his vocation, or even his physical
prowess; his will is indomitable. The constant
aiming after the same end imparts a certain
monotonousness to his thoughts and onesided-
ness to his mind. He knows little, but need not
know much; he knows what he is about, why
he exists on earth, — and this is the chief sort
of knowledge. Don Quixote may seem to be
either a perfect madman, since the most indubi-
table materialism vanishes before his eyes, melts
like tallow before the fire of his enthusiasm (he
really does see living Moors in the wooden pup-
pets, and knights in the sheep) ; or shallow-
minded, because he is unable lightly to sym-
pathize or lightly to enjoy; but, like an ancient
tree, he sends his roots deep into the soil, and can
neither change his convictions nor pass from one
subject to another. The stronghold of his moral
constitution (note that this demented, wandering
knight is everywhere and on all occasions the
moral being) lends especial weight and dignity
to all his judgments and speeches, to his whole
figure, despite the ludicrous and humiliating
situations into which he endlessly falls. Don
Quixote is an enthusiast, a servant of an idea,
and therefore is illuminated by its radiance.

Now what does Hamlet represent?

Analysis, first of all, and egotism, and there-
fore incredulity. He lives entirely for himself;
he is an egotist. But even an egotist cannot
believe in himself. We can only believe in that
which is outside of and above ourselves. But
this I, in which he does not believe, is dear to
Hamlet. This is the point of departure, to which "
he constantly returns, because he finds nothing
in the whole universe to which he can cling with
all his heart. He is a skeptic, and always pothers
about himself; he is ever busy, not with his
duty, but with his condition. Doubting every-
thing, Hamlet, of course, spares not himself;
his mind is too much developed to be satisfied
with what he finds within himself. He is con-
scious of his weakness ; but even this self-con-
sciousness is power : from it comes his irony,
in contrast with the enthusiasm of Don Quixote.
Hamlet delights in excessive self-depreciation.
Constantly concerned with himself, always a
creature of introspection, he knows minutely all
his faults, scorns himself, and at the same time
lives, so to speak, nourished by this scorn. He
has no faith in himself, yet is vainglorious; he

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CURRENT LITERATURE

knows not what he wants nor why he lives, yet
is attached to life. He exclaims:

"O that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter . . .
Most weary, stale, fiat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world."

But he will not sacrifice this flat and unprofit-
able life. He contemplates suicide even before
he sees his father's ghost, and receives the awful
commission which breaks down completely his
already weakened will, — but he does not take his
life. The love of life is expressed in the very
thought of terminating . it. Every youth of
eighteen is familiar with such feelings as this:
"When the blood boils, how prodigal the soul!"

I will not be too severe with Hamlet. He
suffers, and his sufferings are more painful and
galling than those of Don Quixote. The latter
is pummeled by rough shepherds and convicts
whom he has liberated; Hamlet inflicts his own
wounds — teases himself. In his hands, loo, is a
lance — the two-edged lance of self-analysis.

Don Quixote, I must confess, is positively
funny. His figure is perhaps the most comical
that ever poet has drawn. His name has become
a mocking nickname even on the lips of Russian
peasants. Of this our own ears could convince
us. The mere memory of him raises in our
imagination a figure gaunt, angular, rugged-
nosed, clad in caricature armor, and mounted on
the withered skeleton of the pitiable Rocinante,
a poor, starved and beaten nag, to whom we
cannot deny a semi-amusing and semi-pathetic
co-operation. Don Quixote makes us laugh, but
there is a conciliatory and redeeming power in
this laughter; and if the adage be true, "You
may come to worship what you now deride," then
I may add: Whom you have ridiculed, you have
already forgiven, — are even ready to love.

Hamlet's appearance, on the ' contrary, is at-
tractive. His melancholia; his pale tho not lean
aspect (his mother remarks that he is stout,
saying, "Our son is fat") ; his black velvet
clothes, the feather crowning his hat; his ele-
gant manners ; the unmistakable poetry of his
speeches; his steady feeling of complete superi-
ority over others, alongside of the biting humor
of his self-denunciation, — everything about him
pleases, everything captivates. Everybody flat-
ters himself on passing for a Hamlet. None
would like to acquire the appellation of "Don
Quixote." "Hamlet Baratynski,"* wrote Pushkin
to his friend. No one ever thought of laughing
at Hamlet, and herein lies his condemnation. To
love him is almost impossible; only people like

•Baratynski was a Russian lyric poet, a contemporary
and successful follower of Pushkin, whom contempla-
tion of "the riddles of the universe" had made very
disconsolate. — Translator.

Horatio become attached to Hamlet. Of these
I will speak later. Everyone sympathizes with
Hamlet, and the reason is obvious : nearly every-
one finds in Hamlet his own traits; but to love
him is, I repeat, impossible, because he himself
does not love anyone.
Let us continue our comparison.
Hamlet is the son of a king, murdered by his
own brother, the usurper of the throne; his
father comes forth from the grave— from "the
jaws of Hades"— to charge Hamlet to avenge
him; but the latter hesitates, keeps on quibbling
with himself, finds consolation in self-deprecia-
tion, and finally kills his stepfather by chance.
A deep psychological feature, for which many
wise but short-sighted persons have ventured to
censure Shakespeare! And Don Quixote, a poor
man, almost destitute, without means or connec-
tions, old and lonely, undertakes the task of
destroying evil and protecting the oppressed
(total strangers to him) all over the world. It
matters not that his first attempt to free inno-
cence from the oppressor brings redoubled suf-
fering upon the head of innocence. (I have in
mind that scene in which Don Quixote saves an
apprentice from a drubbing by his master, who,
as soon as the deliverer is gone, punishes the
poor boy with tenfold severity.) It matters not
that, in his crusades against harmful giants, Don
Quixote attacks useful windmills. The comical
setting of these pictures should not distract our
eyes from their hidden meaning. The man who
sets out to sacrifice himself with careful fore-
thought and consideration of all the conse-
quences— ^balancing all the probabilities of his
acts proving beneficial — is hardly capable of self-
sacrifice. Nothing of the kind can happen to
Hamlet; it is not for him, with his penetrative,
keen, and skeptical mind, to fall into so gross
an error. No, he will not wage war on wind-
mills ; he does not believe in giants, and would
not attack them if they did exist. We cannot
imagine Hamlet exhibiting to each and all a
barber's bowl, and maintaining, as Don Quixote
does, that it is the real magic helmet of Mam-
brin. I suppose that, were truth itself to ap-
pear incarnate before his eyes, Hamlet would
still have misgivings as to whether it really was
the truth. For who knows but that truth, too, is
perhaps non-existent, like giants? We laugh at
Don Quixote, but, my dear sirs, which of us,
after having conscientiously interrogated himself,
and taken into account his past and present con-
victions, will make bold to say that he always,
under all circumstances, can distinguish a bar-
ber's pewter bowl from a magic golden helmet?
It seems to me, therefore, that the principal
thing in life is the sincerity and strength of our

LITERATURE AND ART

293

convictions, — the result lies in the hands of fate.
This alone can show us whether we have been
contending with fantoms or real foes, and with
what armor we covered our heads. Our business
is to arm ourselves and fight.

Remarkable are the attitudes of the mob, the
so-called mass of the people, toward Hamlet and
Don Quixote. In "Hamlet" Polonius, in "Don
Quixote" Sancho Panza, symbolize the populace.

Polonius is an old man — active, practical, ' sen-
sible, but at the same time narrow-minded and
garrulous. He is an excellent chamberlain and
an exemplary father. (Recollect his instructions
to his son, Laertes, when going abroad — instruc-
tions which vie in wisdom with certain orders
issued by Governor Sancho Panza on the Island
of Barataria.) To Polonius Hamlet is not so
much a madman as a child. Were he not a
king's son, Polonius would despise him because
of his utter uselessness and the impossibility of
making a positive and practical application of
his ideas. The famous cloud-scene, the scene
where Hamlet imagines he is mocking the old
man, has an obvious significance, confirming this
theory. I take the liberty of recalling it to you :

Polonius: My lord, the queen would speak
with you, and presently.

Hamlet: Do you see yonder cloud, that's al-
most in shape of a camel?

Polonius: By the mass, and 'tis like a camel,
indeed.

Hamlet: Methinks it is like a weasel.

Polonius: It is backed like a weasel.

Hamlet: Or, like a whale?

Polonius: Very like a whale.

Hamlet: Then will I come to my mother by
and by.

Is it not evident that in this scene Polonius
is at the same time a courtier who humors the
prince and an adult who would not cross a sickly,
capricious boy? Polonius does not in the least
believe Hamlet, and he is right With all his
natural, narrow presumptiveness, he ascribes
Hamlet's capriciousness to his love for Ophelia,
in which he is, of course, mistaken, but he makes
no mistake in understanding Hamlet's character.
The Hamlets are really useless to the people;
they give it nothing, they cannot lead it any-
where, since they themselves are bound for no-
where. And, besides, how can one lead when
he doubts the very ground he treads upon?
Moreover, the Hamlets detest the masses. How
can a man who does not respect himself respect
any one or anything else? Besides, is it really
worth while to bother about the masses? They
are so rude and filthy! And much more than
birth alone goes to make Hamlet an aristocrat.

An entirely different spectacle is presented by
Sancho Panza. He laughs at Don Quixote,

knows full well that he is demented; yet thrice
forsakes the land of his birth, his home, wife
and daughter, that he may follow this crazy
man; follows him everywhere, undergoes all
sorts of hardships, is devoted to him to his very
death, believes him and is proud of him, then
weeps, kneeling at the humble pallet where his
master breathes his last. Hope of gain or ulti-
mate advantage cannot account for this devo-
tion. Sancho Panza has too much good sense.
He knows very well that the page of a wander-
ing knight has nothing save beatings to expect.
The cause of his devotion must be sought deeper.
It finds its root (if I may so put it) in what is
perhaps the cardinal virtue of the people, — in its
capability of a blissful and honest blindness (alas !
it is familiar with other forms of blindness), the
capability of a disinterested enthusiasm, the dis-
regard of direct personal advantages, which to
a poor man is almost equivalent to scorn for his
daily bread. A great, universally-historic virtue!

The masses of the people invariably end by
following, in blind confidence, the very persons
they themselves have mocked, or even cursed and
persecuted. They give allegiance to those who
fear neither curses nor persecution — nor even
ridicule — but who go straight ahead, their spir-
itual gaze directed toward the goal which they
alone see, — who seek, fall, and rise, and ulti-
mately find. And rightly so;, only he who is
led by the heart reaches the ultimate goal. "Les
grandes pensees viennent du coeur," said Vo-
venarg. And the Hamlets find nothing, invent
nothing, and leave no trace behind them, save
that of their own personality — no achievements
whatsoever. They neither love nor believe, and
what can they find? Even in chemistry — not to
speak of organic nature — in order that a third
substance may be obtained, there must be a com-
bination of two others; but the Hamlets are
concerned with themselves alone, — ^they are
lonely, and therefore barren.

"But," you will interpose, "how about Ophelia,
— does not Hamlet love her?"

I shall speak of her, and, incidentally, of Dul-
cinea.

In their relations to woman, too, our two types
present much that is noteworthy.

Don Quixote loves Dulcinea, a woman who
exists only in his own imagination, and is ready
to die for her. (Recall his words when, van-
quished and bruised, he says to the conqueror,
who stands over him with a spear: "Stab me,
Sir Knight . . . Dulcinea del Tobosco is the
most beautiful woman in the world, and I the
most unfortunate knight on earth. It is not fit
that my weakness should lessen the glory of

{Continued on page 349)

Music and the Drama

"SALOME"— THE STORM-CENTER OF THE MUSICAL WORLD

UT of all the hubbub and impas-
sioned controversy following the
New York production of Richard
-i-iffi Strauss's world-famous music-drama,
"Salome," and its later withdrawal from the
boards of the Metropolitan Opera House, one
incontestable fact emerges: Music will never
again be the same since "Salome" has been
written. We may like the opera, or we may
not like it; but, by common consensus of criti-
cal opinion, it is an epoch-making work, in
the sense that Gltick's "Alcestis" and Wagner's
"Tannhauser" were epoch-making works.
That is to say, it has extended the boundaries
of musical form and expression. "Never in
the history of music," says Lawrence Oilman,
the critic of Harper's Weekly, "has such in-
strumentation found its way on to the printed
page"; and Alfred Hertz, who conducted
"Salome" on the occasion of its single presen-
tation in New York, declares: "This score is
like nothing else in music. It is a new note.
It means a revolution."

It is perhaps unfortunate that musical com-
position of such significance and power should
be indissolubly connected with a play that has
aroused so much antagonism, and offers so
many points of attack as are offered by Oscar
Wilde's "Salome." The greater part of the
play was printed in these pages last Septem-
ber, so that our readers have already had an
opportunity to form their own estimate of a
drama which, despite the execrations that have
been heaped upon it, has had an enthusiastic
reception in many European centers of cul-
ture. In New York, where it has been given
on two different occasions in special perform-
ances, it has been almost unanimously con-
demned by the critics. There is a disposition
in some quarters to regard the author of
"Salome" as a man of quite inferior talents,
and Mr. W. J. Henderson, of the New York
Sun, voices this sentiment when he says:
"Probably a dozen years hence we shall
all look back with wonder at the Oscar Wilde
movement of the present. The forcing into
worldwide prominence of a poet who was
at his best a feeble echo of Keats and Shelley,
and a dramatist whose most significant
achievement is a watery copy of Maeterlinck,

is one of the singular phenomena of an empty
period." But the question immediately arises:
Is is likely that Richard Strauss, admittedly
one of the great creative geniuses of our age,
would have chosen as the groundwork for his
operatic masterpiece a libretto as weak as
Wilde's "Salome" is alleged to be? Is it not
more reasonable to share the view expressed
by Lawrence Oilman in his new monograph
on "Salome":.*

"Whatever opinion one may hold concerning
the subject-matter of Wilde's play, there can be
no question of the potency of the work as dra-
matic literature. At the least, it is a remarkable
tour de force, and few will deny the maleficent
power and the imaginative intensity with which
it is carried through, from its vivid beginning to
its climactic and truly appalling close."

It will be noticed, however, that in this
paragraph Mr. Oilman avoids what is really
the crux of the whole "Salome" controversy.
It was the matter, not the manner, of the
Wilde drama that excited ire and indignation
all the way from New York to San Francisco,
and that led the directors of the Metropolitan
Opera House to forbid further performances
of the opera. The flood of protest was aroused
by the undue emphasis given to the pathologi-
cal aspect of the play, and, in particular, by
the "dance of the seven veils" and the dis-
play of the decapitated head of John the
Baptist. It was in choosing to exploit
such a theme, says Mr. Henderson, that Wilde
and Strauss committed an unpardonable
offense. He adds:

"Not a single lofty thought is uttered by any
personage except the prophet, and it is conceded
that none of the other characters can comprehend
him. The whole story wallows in lust, lewdness,
bestial appetites and abnormal carnality. The
slobbering of Salome over the dead head is in
plain English filthy. The kissing of dead lips
besmeared with blood is something to make the
most hardened shudder."

Mr. Krehbiel, of the New York Tribune,
expresses himself in terms equally caustic. He
thinks we all ought to be "stung into right-
eous fury by the moral stench with which
'Salome' fills the nostrils of humanity." He
goes on to say:

*Stsauss's Salomx. a Guide to the Opera, with Musical
Illustrations. Bjr Lawrence Gilman. John Lane Com-
pany.

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

295

THE TEMPTATION OF JOHN
Fremstad and Van Rooy in the Wilde-Strauss Opera
Salome: Thy mouth is redder than the feet of those who tread the wine in the wine-press,
nothing in the world so red as thy mouth. . . . Suffer me to kiss thy mouth.
Jochanaan: Never! Daughter of Babylon! Daughter of Sodom! Never!

There is

"There is not a whiff of fresh and healthy air
blowing through 'Salome' except that which ex-
hales from the cistern, the prison house of Jocha-
naan. Even the love of Narraboth, the young
Syrian captain, for the princess is tainted by the
jealous outbursts of Herodias's page. Salome is
the unspeakable, Herodias, tho divested of her
most pronounced historical attributes (she ad-
jures her daughter not to dance, tho she gloats
over the revenge which it brings to her), is a
human hyena ; Herod, a neurasthenic voluptuary."

The view of "Salome" taken by Mr. Hen-
derson and Mr. Krehbiel is not shared by all
the New York papers. The World and The
Times show little sympathy with what they
regard as a "belated" spasm of indignation.
On the other hand, The Evening Post pro-
nounces the presentation of the opera "a
flagrant ofifense against common decency and

morality," and The Tribune comments: "Pub-
lic reprobation of all such offenses has its
source not only in sound morality, but in the
highest conception of esthetic truth and
beauty." The Evening Journal likens "Sa-
lome" to "a dead toad on white lilies," while
The Evening Mail has endeavored to close
the controversy with this dictum : " 'Salome's'
place is in the library of the alienist. It
should be staged nowhere save in Sodom."

The intensely hostile reception of "Salome"
in this country has drawn a brief rejoinder
from Richard Strauss himself. In a cabled
interview printed in the newspapers, he de-
clares that he is amazed by the noise that
"Salome's" alleged immorality has raised in
New York. He expresses himself further:

296

CURRENT LITERATURE

"I would like to know what immorality really
is. The boundaries and relations of morality
Have been variously conceived by various men at
various times. Generally speaking, mankind's
ideas of morality are indefinite.

"As to the average man who has seen 'Salome'
and objects to it — if such there be — why does he
balk at 'Salome' and accept 'Don Juan,' 'Figaro,'
'Carmen,' and numberless other operas which, to
be consistent, he must regard as immoral?

"In morals, as in other matters, there is such a
thing as straining at a gnat and swallowing a
camel. That man, or woman, who has clean
hands, a pure heart, a spotless conscience, can
regard 'Salome' and all art without disfavor or
prejudice. It is for such men and women that all
true artists labor; not for those vitiated or
bigoted."

Bernard Shaw has also come to the rescue
of the ill-starred opera. His utterance, as
reported in the New York World, is charac-
teristic :

"What can you expect of people who rejected
me? . . . People in general cannot under-
stand me, nor Oscar Wilde, nor such a towering
genius as Strauss, who is certainly the greatest
hving musician. There is nothing which makes
men angrier than to have their ignorance ex-
posed, and they are brutally enraged against the
man who is cleverer than they. By mere weight
of numbers they howl him down. . . .

"Plays such as 'Salome' were not intended for
common people. If they do not understand it
they can stay away and allow those who have
brains enough to comprehend it to attend the

OFF TO THE PROVINCES
Mr. T. S. Sullivant's humorous comment (in the
New York World) on the fate of the opera.

theater in their place. Great tragedies and prob-
lems are not for little folk."

These sentiments find only a faint echo on
this side of the Atlantic. It is worth noting,
however, that The Musical Courier (New
York), our leading musical J)aper, regards
the suppression of the opera as "a manifesta-
tion of parochialism" which is "disgraceful
in the highest degree," and "should cause New
York to hang its head in shame."

"Salome" is defended on quite other grounds
by the Deutsche Vorkaempfer (New York),
a monthly devoted to German cvilture in
America, which ably maintains that Wilde's
play, and the opera based upon it, so far from
being utterly vicious, are moral, in a very real
sense. It says, in part:

"Much in the play is undoubtedly repulsive,
much perverse, and even inhuman. But that is
not the major motive, but a detail which merely
accentuates the true meaning. Like all the works
of this brilliant degenerate, the final impression
of 'Salome' is distinctly ethical in significance.
As in 'Dorian Gray,' Oscar Wilde portrays with
inexorable severity the fate of all that is morbid
and inwardly corrupt. It may shimmer like de-
caying wood, hectic red may flame upon its
cheek ; but in all cases eternal retribution is vis-
ited upon those who offend against the law of
health, which is the law of life. In the novel, it
is a picture upon which every evil action of the
hero leaves a trace bearing damning evidence
against him. In 'Salome' we already hear at the
rise of the curtain 'a beating of great wings.' It
is the angel of Death, who descends upon the
palace of Herod. And in the background we ob-
serve from the very start the soldiers with their
heavy shields under which, before the curtain
drops, they will bury the quivering body of the
daughter of Herodias. But while there is no
conciliating element in 'Dorian Gray,' we see, in
the play, in John, the harbinger of a life to come.
The rotten magnificence of Herod tumbles into
the dust, but from afar . . . out of the lake
of Galilee . . . rises the star of redemption.

"In the opera the sensuous element is far more
pronounced than in the play. The philosophic
purpose is obscured and the historical picture
loses in color through the omission of important
incidents. Others — such as the discussion of the
Jews — lose in dignity, while that horrible scene
in which Salome caresses the head of John the
Baptist is painfully prolonged. The figure oi
Herodias, whose own corruption explains that of
her daughter, is degraded to a mere puppet, while
the one display of pure affection — the scene in
which the page of Herodias bewails the death of
his friend, the young Syrian captain — has found
no place in the musical version of the play."

Nevertheless, the writer contends, even in
the opera the ethical element is represented,
"I cannot," he says, "see 'Salome,' either the
play or the opera, without bearing in my
heart, in addition to esthetic satisfaction, a feel-
ing that here the fate of a world has passed

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

297

THE DANCE OF THE SEVEN VEILS

A moment of breathless suspense in the musical version of Wilde's "Salome"

Herod: Ah! wonderful! wonderful! \turning to the queen} You see that she dances for me, your daughter.
Come near, Salome, come near .

before my eyes, a Titanic struggle between
sensuality and the pure, ascetic ideal, in which
the latter is triumphant. 'Salome,' " he con-
cludes, "is a moral play."

From a purely musical point of view the
importance of "Salome" can hardly be exag-
gerated. Puccini, the Italian composer, who
traveled hundreds of miles to witness the first
German performances, and was present at the
New York performance of the opera, pro-
nounces it "the most wonderful expression of
modern music." Some of the German critics
have gone so far as to say that in "Salome"
Strauss has surpassed Wagner. It is a mis-
take to suppose that Strauss is dominated by
Wagner, and is merely carrying the "first
Richard's" methods one step further. So well-
informed a critic as Charles Henry Meltzer
recognizes in Strauss's latest music a kinship
with Chopin and Berlioz, rather than with
Wagner. He says further (in Ridgway's) :

"As Strauss seems to conceive it, what, for
convenience, we call his opera, is neither a pre-
text for the singing of beautiful songs nor merely
the expression of drama by means of music.
Rather might it be described as a medium for the
tone painting of environments and the interpre-
tation of moods, souls and characters."

If, as is charged, Wagner's musical method
amounted, practically, to the "erection of the
statue in the orchestra and the pedestal upon
the stage," Richard Strauss has gone a great

way toward removing even the pedestal.
"Salome" is really "a symphonic poem with
obligato illustrative and explanatory action
upon the stage," avers Mr. Richard Aldrich,
of the New York Times. "It is undeniable,"
he thinks, "that Strauss has treated the voices
in a manner that can be described as instru-
mental rather than vocal." Moreover: "The
appeal is almost always what is called 'cere-
bral' rather than emotional."

All the critics agree that Strauss's strength
lies in his orchestration and fechnic. The
real point at issue is this: Has he supreme
creative genius, as well as supreme technic?
Arthur Symons, the English critic, in an
essay on "The Problem of Richard Strauss,"
included in his latest book,* states flatly:
"Strauss has no fundamental musical ideas,
and he forces the intensity of his expression
because of this lack of genuine musical ma-
terial." Mr. Aldrich, who considers this
point at length, concedes that few of the forty
odd themes out of which Strauss has created
"Salome" have real musical potency; but they
are justified, nevertheless, he holds, by the
use the composer has made of them. To fol-
low his argument:

"It has been charged that Strauss's musical in-

•Studies in Seven Arts. By Arthur Symons. E. P.
Dutton & Company.

298

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE LEADING EXPONENT OF POETIC DRAMA
IN AMERICA

E. H. Sothern intends to establish in New York a
standard theater devoted to classic and modern poetic
drama.

spiration, his melodic gift, is of the smallest. But
in his already large collection of works, including
the songs, the sonatas, and other earlier composi-
tions, there is melody enough to give him the
title of being a melodist. Is it not rather that he

now deliberately devises his musical "material with
a view chiefly to what he considers its descriptive
quality, in the first place, and its plasticity in the
next? . . . The ultimate justification of his
themes is the use he makes of them. They are
marvelously plastic under his hands; they lend
themselves to all the ingenuities and extrav-
agances of his manipulation perfectly, alone and
in almost any complexity of combination."

Mr. Finck, of The Evening Post, is not
ready to concede nearly so much. Strauss's
music, he says, despite its cleverness, is "es-
thetically criminal." He continues: "Strauss's
fatal shortcoming is the w^eakness of his
themes, the utter lack of meflody. In the
whole opera, which lasts an hour and a half,
there is not a page of sustained melody, either
in the vocal parts or in the orchestra."

Mr. Gilman finds the opera of "tragic,
almost superhuman, futility." He writes, in
Harper's Weekly:

"Never was music so avid in its search for the
eloquent word. We are amazed at the ingenuity,
the audacity, the resourcefulness, of the expres-
sional apparatus that is cumulatively reared in
this unprecedented score. Cacophony is heaped
upon cacophony; the alphabet of music is ran-
sacked for new and undreamt-of combinations of
tone ; never were effects so elaborate, so cunning,
so fertilely contrived, offered to the ears of men
since the voice of music was heard in its pristine
estate. This score, in intention, challenges the
music of the days that shall follow after it, for
it foreshadows an expressional vehicle of un-
imagined possibilities. But they are still, so far
as Strauss and the present are concerned, possi-
bilities. The music of 'Salome' is a towering and
pathetic monument to the hopelessness of en-
deavor without impulse."

THE RISE OF POETIC DRAMA IN AMERICA

ODERN managers, complains Die
Feder, of Berlin, a German authors'
journal, preferably give Shake-
speare's inferior plays instead of the
works of living writers, because, unfortunate-
ly, the dead require no royalty. This motive,
however potent its appeal may have been in
the Fatherland, seems to have never influ-
enced our two great romantic actors, Julia
Marlowe and E. H. Sothern. On the con-
trary, the underlying purpose of their produc-
tions of Shakespeare's plays, according to a
writer in the Boston Evening Transcript, has
been from the very beginning to turn to plays
by contemporary writers — to the work of the
noted dramatists of the Continent like Suder-
mann, Hauptmann and D'Annunzio, which has
had very little place on our stage, to imagina-
tive pieces by young American writers striving

for a footing in our theater; in a word, to
poetic drama wherever they might find it, and
to the poetic drama of our own generation
most of all. Practically, The Transcript goes
on to say, the American stage has been closed
to it for years. "They would open the door
wide, welcome it, set it high, and give it every
aid that their own intelligence, imagination,
ambition and tireless labor might lend in the
acting and the setting of it. At last they have
not only begun, but they have advanced sur-
prisingly far in the accomplishment of their
desire." In fact, so far have they advanced
that they have produced or prepared for
production no less than eleven modern and
romantic plays, among these three by Ameri-
can writers, Boynton, Mackaye and William
Vaughn Moody. D'Annunzio, it is reported,
will come to America to be present at their

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

299

production of his play, "The Daughter of
Jorio." And Gerhardt Hauptmann, whose
visit to the United States, under the auspices of
the Germanistic Society, is also announced,
will not fail to witness their performance of
his "Sunken Bell" in Charles Henry Meltzer's
masterly translation. In an interview pub-
lished in a New York paper, Mr. Sothern an-
nounces the opening under his and Miss Mar-
lowe's artistic direction of a standard theater
for plays classic and romantic. If we, more-
over, keep in mind Mansfield's success in Ib-
sen's mystic play of "Peer Gynt" and Maude
Adams' in "Peter Pan," there can be
no doubt that not only our poets, but our
audiences as well, are ready to hail the rise
of poetic drama. Three plays in Sothern and
Marlowe's repertoire have so far been most
widely discussed. They are "Jeanne d'Arc,"
by Percy Mackaye, Hauptmann's "Sunken
Bell," and Sudermann's "John the Baptist."
"Jeanne d'Arc" was fuilly treated in these
pages at the time of its first production.

The revival of Hauptmann's "Sunken Bell"
likewise found audiences in New York and
other artistic centers extremely appreciative.
The New York Sun asserts that the play is
"indubitably one of the few masterpieces of
the modern poetic drama, and deserves the
attention of all intelligent playgoers."

The third play of the series, Sudermann's
"John the Baptist" has been received with
considerably less enthusiasm. It both suffered
and gained through the comparison with the
operatic production of "Salome." Suder-
mann presents the story of the daughter of
Herodias and her horrible passion with less
artistry and final impressiveness, but also with
the exclusion of that phase of her character
which appeals more to the pathological stu-
dent of Krafft-Ebing and the perversions of
the Marquis de Sade than to the lover of
poetry. Sudermann has been charged by Ger-
man critics with imitating the Oscar Wilde
play. He undoubtedly at times recalls Wilde.

It is only in the last scene, centering in the
dance for the head of the prophet that, in
Mr. John Corbin's opinion, the play takes on
real color and dramatic effectiveness. The
dance is handled with greater delicacy than is
"Salome." Mr. Corbin says on this point:

"This Salome is no monstrous virgin swayed
by sadistic lust, whose eye battens on mere flesh,
and whose lips gloat in the kiss of blood and
death. She is, to be sure, the degenerate daugh-
ter of a degenerate line; but she is a real and
very human person, not more remarkable for her
native licentiousness than for her native vivacity
and girlish charm. It is the fire and power of the

prophet's soul that attracts her, not his hairy
masculinity. The sensual appeal of the dance is
justified if not ennobled by the dramatic intensity
of the passions that inspire it. And finally, the
audience is spared the sight, as well as the kiss-
ing, of the head on the golden charger. The
greatest praise of the whole scene is that it is
done so well as to justify its being done at all."

SUDERMANJTS SALOME
Julia Marlowe dancing the dance of the seven veils
for the head of John the Baptist, in the German dram-
atist's play.

300

CURRENT LITERATURE

IBSEN'S VOICE FROM THE GRAVE

HEN we dead awake," Ibsen sig-
nificantly named his last play.
"When we dead awake" is the
motive chosen by Gustav Vigeland,
of Christiania, for a proposed monument of the
great Norwegian. And it undoubtedly is ap-
propriate in more than one sense. Hardly
had the news of his death reached the ear
of the world when a general Ibsen revival
began to take place. In America especially
has the spirit of the great master of the mod-
ern dramatic school never been so much alive
as to-day, when Rich-
ard Mansfield joins
hands with Alia Nazi-
mova in the interpre-
tation of those works
of the dead poet which
have been so potent of
late years in shaping
the literary destiny of
Europe. But in yet
another sense is Ibsen's
voice heard from the
grave. The N eu e
Rundschau, of Berlin,
has recently published
certain fragments of a
collection of the poet's
posthumous papers
which give us a more
accurate conception of
Ibsen's methods of
work and thought than
we could possibly have
formed from material
accessible in his life-
time. And simultane-
ously, the Danish au-
; thor, John Paulsen,

publishes a little book* in which are re-
vealed some of the charming intimacies
of Ibsen's life which bring the poet
nearer to our hearts. Even before this,
Brandes had lifted the veil from the poet's
last love romance (see Current Literature
for September). The colossus has fallen.
Smaller men may at last peep into the stern
giant-face that in life seemed too remote for
close scrutiny, and behold, we find in it a
knowledge of "mortal things," the sorrows
and joys of daily life, that brings him close
to his fellowmen and takes him out of the

category of demi-gods in which some of his
admirers have seemed to place him.

The selections published by the Rundschau
consist of sketches of several plays, a speech
on women's rights, and poems. Especially
suggestive are the playwright's reflections con-
cerning the intellectual dissimilarity between
men and women:

"There are two kinds of moral law, one ex-
isting in men, and quite a different one in women.
Neither can understand the other, but in real life
a woman is judged according to man's law,
just as if she were really
a man.

"In this play the wife
finally loses all sense of
distinction between right
and wrong. The conflict
with her natural impulses
on the one hand and her
belief in authority on the
other brings her utter
confusion. In our mod-
ern society, which is ex-
clusiviely a male society,
a woman cannot be true
to herself, for society's
laws are formulated by
men, and the judge and
the advocate criticise
feminine actions from
man's point of view.

"Nora has committed
forgery. She is proud of
it, for she did it out of
love for her husband and
to save his life, but she
clings with all the hon-
esty of the ordinary man
to the letter of the law
and regards her action
with man's eyes."

"WHEN WE DEAD AWAKE"
A proposed memorial in honor of rienrik Ibsen by
Gustav Vigeland, a rising Norwegian sculptor.

•Samliv MED Ibsen. By John Paulsen,
dalske Publishing Company.

The Gylden'

Nevertheless, Ibsen
is not pessimistic. "A
new nobility," he pro-
claims, "will arise, not the nobility of birth or
money, nor that of talent and knowledge. The
nobility of the future will be the nobility of
feeling and will."

Is it not, on reading those fragmentary ut-
terances, as if we had a conversation with the
spirit of Ibsen? They throw a new and
friendly light on the man and his work. This
is true in the same degree of Paulsen's rem-
iniscences, only that here it is the man
rather than the thinker who rises from the
dead. We can see him before us with his
white side-whiskers and his furrowed head.
We can almost touch his hand.

During Ibsen's long stay abroad, we learn,

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

301

he lived mostly in solitude and did not ac-
cept any of the many invitations which were
showered upon him. He did not even care
about the literature of the respective countries.
People and culture he studied through careful
perusal of the newspapers. At the Cafe Maxi-
milian in Munich, where he always appeared
on the stroke of a certain hour, he had his
accustomed place in front of a large mirror
which reflected the entrance with all coming
and going guests. Without having to turn
around he could sit there and observe every-
thing. Like a poetical detective, he sat be-
fore the mirror with his big newspaper held
up to his face and nothing eluded his alert
eye. "To create is to see," he once explained.
The papers he read from the first page to the
last. He did not even skip the advertisements.
In these he found many a fragment of the
history of culture.

Ibsen liked to be as self-sufficient as possi-
ble. When a trouser button became loose — a
prosaic mishap that comes even to the great-
est poets — he went into his room, carefully
locked the door and sewed the button on with
the same care that he would have expended
on a detail in a new drama. Such an im-
portant task he would not entrust to anybody
else, not even to his wife. One of Ibsen's
theories was that "a woman never knows how
to fasten a button properly." He had no sus-
picion that Mrs. Ibsen "fastened" the button
"properly" on the sly, by sewing on the wrong
side, something which Ibsen always forgot
to do, but which is the most important part
of the proceeding. "Let him keep his belief,"
she said to their intimate friends; "it makes
him so happy." Another curious example of his
independence is cited. One winter in Munich
Ibsen asked Paulsen, with a serious and trou-
bled face, "Tell me one thing, Paulsen, do
you polish your own shoes?" When the lat-
ter made no reply and looked puzzled, Ibsen
continued, "You ought to. It will make you
feel like a new man. One never ought to let
another do what one is able to do oneself. If
you only begin by polishing your shoes you
will end by cleaning your room and making
your fire. In this wise you will finally be-
come a free man, independent of Tom, Dick
and Harry."

Referring to Ibsen's position toward the
critics, Paulsen relates how Ibsen once warned
him from searching for profound meanings
in his works. "There are none" he said. "The
critics are always eager to find strange depths
and hidden symbols in every word and act,
instead of keeping strictly to what is written."

Ibsen told several amusing examples of the
blunders made by even some of the most as-
tute. "A Doll's House" opens, as is well
known, with Nora's appearing on the stage
followed by a man carrying a Christmas tree.
Nora produces a pocketbook and gives the
man one crown instead of the 50 ore he de-
mands, saying meanwhile, "Here is one crown
— keep it all." If this episode characterizes
anything, it is her lack of economy. A sym-
bol-hunting critic has, however, found a clue
here. Nora's paying double the amount has
a deep, hidden meaning. Already, in this first
scene, the author reveals his great symbolism.
It is Labor versus Capital that Ibsen has in
mind. Nora is at heart a Socialist. By giv-
ing the man more than he asked she plainly
proves that she wishes a just division between
capitalists and laborers! Ibsen laughed
heartily at the remembrance of this article
which had appeared in a Swedish paper.

In "Emperor and Galilean," Ibsen had
chosen the name "Makrina" for one of the
female characters. He had happened upon
this name in an old book, and used it because
of its unusual foreign sound. Then came the
critic and proclaimed a new hidden meaning.
"Makrina" was Greek and meant "the far-
seeing." How pregnant and profound ! What
perspectives opened before one's imagination !
Only an Ibsen would have thought of such a
thing! The far-seeing! But Ibsen laughed.

During his early youth in Bergen Ibsen fell
seriously in love with a very pretty girl of
that town, Henrikka Hoist. But he was poor
and had nothing to offer the daughter of a
prominent merchant family, and so they
parted. Thirty years later, in the year 1885,
they met again in the town of his youth.
Henrikka Hoist was then Fru Tresselt, and
mother of many children. She had retained
her joyous, healthy nature; was simple and
candid, with a humorous outlook on life and
a ready tongue. She herself speaks of this
meeting as follows : "With a bouquet of wild
flowers such as he used to love, I went up to
his hotel to call. I assure you when I as-
cended the stairs my heart beat as if I had
been a young girl. In spite of the thirty years
we had been parted he recognized me at once,
and I felt that he was glad to see me." She
made a long, thoughtful pause. "Well, what
did you say to him? It must have been an
interesting conversation." "The first thing I
said to him was, 'You can't guess, Ibsen, how
often this old silly has looked in the glass to-
day. For I wanted so much to look a little
pretty at this meeting. I wanted you to like

302

CURRENT LITERATURE

me as of old.' " Ibsen paid her some
compliments, and then, deeply touched, took
hold of both her hands. She thanked him
for his dramas, which she had read with de-
light. Ibsen asked her: "Have you found
any traces of yourself and our young love
in my books?" She smiled. "Let me think

. . . yes, you mean Mutter Stroman in
the 'Comedy of Love,' she with the eight chil-
dren and the everlasting knitting in her
hands." Ibsen protested. He knew of other
less prosaic traces of her personality in his
works, not to mention Hilda in "The Master
Builder," for whom evidently she had been the
model. Then he told her about his life since
leaving Bergen; his family and his travels.
At last he asked, while pensively peering at
her through his gold-rimmed eyeglasses, "But
how have you been all these years?" "Oh,
don't let us speak of that, father," she inter-
rupted with a smile and shake of the head.
"While you composed great works and became
celebrated I have only brought children into
the world and mended old pants." Ibsen
laughed heartily and shook her hands. "You
are the same dear old Rikke, mother — God
bless you." And thus they parted.

Paulsen tells of another episode which illus-
trates Ibsen's fear of having any one see his
manuscripts before completion. Ibsen was
traveling by rail with his family one summer.
He was just then engaged on writing a new
drama, but neither his wife nor his son had
any idea what it was about. When the train

stopped at a station Ibsen left the com-
partment, and, in rising, dropped a piece of
paper. Mrs. Ibsen picked it up and glanced
at it furtively. On the page was written,
"The doctor says," and nothing more. Mrs.
Ibsen smiled as she showed it to her son and
said, "Now we will have a joke on father
when he comes back. Won't he be terrified
when he finds that we have an inkling of what
he is writing."

When Ibsen returned his wife looked at him
playfully and said, "What kind of a doctor is
it that appears in your new drama ? He seems
to have very interesting things to say." Had
Mrs. Ibsen foreseen the effect of her innocent
joke she would certainly have refrained
from speaking. Ibsen grew dumb with as-
tonishment and anger, and when he could
speak again a flood of reproaches flowed from
his lips. What did this mean? Was he sur-
rounded by spies? Had they been in his re-
cesses, had they broken into his desk, into
his holy of holies? In his imagination he
worked himself into a frenzy and saw
ghosts everywhere around him.

Mrs. Ibsen finally produced the little piece
of paper and returned it. "We know abso-
lutely nothing about your drama but what
this paper tells us — if you please." Ibsen
stood there crestfallen. The drama he was
working on was "An Enemy to the People."
The "doctor" in question was no other than
our old friend Stockman, the kind-hearted
reformer.

THE INDOMITABLE YOUTHFULNESS OF ELLEN TERRY

^^ssr— {EOPLE think I must be so terribly
old just because I have been on
the stage for fifty years. They
don't remember that I made my
first appearance in 'Mammilus' when I was
only eight. And so you see I'm not so old
as it sounds, anyhow — and I feel as young as
ever I did."

It was with these words that Ellen Terry,
veteran of English actresses, after a lapse of
almost five years, set foot again on American
soil. Not, however, to say good-by. "After
this appearance," she observed pleasantly, "I
shall come as many times as the American
people want me to come. It is arranged that
I shall lecture some day, going over the en-
tire country, but I have not thought as yet
of a farewell tour."

Bernard Shaw's play, "Captain Brass-

bound's Conversion," in which the famous
actress made her first re-appearance at the
Empire Theater in New York, is one. of the
"three plays for Puritans," and was orig-
inally written for her. "There is," she says,
"no great story as to how I came to play in
'Captain Brassbound,' except that Shaw,
whom I met years ago in London, insists that
he had me in mind when he wrote the play,
as far back as 1899." She goes on to say:

"It had never been produced until it was taken
up by Vedrenne and Barker at the Court Theater,
and I myself, after the lapse of so many years,
originated the leading role, as had originally been
intended. It is singular indeed that the play
should have waited so long for a production, and
it is also singular that, after fifty years on the
stage, I should now for the first tiniie be making
an appeal to the American public through a
strictly modem role."

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

303

The Sun points out the significance of this
fact. "Shaw women," it asserts, "are not al-
ways too charming. Be it said, then, that she
appears as a Shaw man in feminine weeds."
To quote further:

"Lady Cecily Waynflete is, in fact, less of the
line of the Superwoman than of John Tanner.
She has more of the dentist in 'You Never Can
Teir than of the lady of his unwilling choice.

Drawn for CURRENT LITBRATURB by Pamela Coleman Smith

EVERY THEATER-GOER IN THE LAST QUAR-
TER OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY HAS
BEEN IN LOVE WITH HER

This is what Bernard Shaw says of Ellen Terry,
who is now appearing in his play, "Captain Brass-
bound's Conversion," written for her eight years ago.

She IS, m short, the center of the dialogue and
action, bright perversely sane, brilliantly com-
manding. Shaw wrote the play years ago for
Miss Terry, and he paid her the compliment of
putting himself into it, and, what is even more
wonderful, a good deal of his heart.

"Among the people in this expedition into the
interior of Morocco there is a potentate, an Eng-
lish judge, the bigness of whose wig is unques-
tionable, and a piratical smuggler, whose will is
the law of life and death over his followers.
There is a sheik and a cadi who rule over moun-
tain fastnesses. But one and all bow to the
charm and the wit of this Shaw man in petticoats.

"The Mussulmans are molten bronze in her
fingers. The pirate takes to Shavian morals, and
a shave, and though the hangingest judge in
England remains firm in his self-esteem, the fact
contributes all the more to the flouting and jeer-
ing of legal justice as it is practiced.

"The play bears a strong family likeness to
'Caesar and Cleopatra,' which it preceded in order
of composition. It is modern, to be sure, instead
of ancient, and its costumes and architecture are
Arabian instead of Egyptian. But these are tri-
fles. The three scenes are full of African light
and color, of African architecture and costume,
and — Mr. Shaw must stomach the word as he
can — of African romance."

Of course, Ellen Terry's youthful-

ness in essence is necessarily different

from the youth of a young woman of

somewhat over thirty, as portrayed by

Bernard Shaw. "It was curious," remarks The

Times, describing a rehearsal of the play, "to

see how the youth of the character became,

so to speak, superimposed upon the youth of

Miss Terry."

"She sat upon a piece of scenery, evidently
meant to represent a stone wall, crossed one leg
over the other, gently swayed her foot to and fro,
and looked 'as pert as you please.'

"Now and then Miss Terry would for the in-
stant abandon her character to explain some mis-
take to one of the younger members of the com-
pany. In one instance, the man was seated. She
leaned over him and spoke in an undertone with a
truly maternal air. Then they repeated the little
episode and it went precisely as she desired.
Again, with the energy of a young woman and
surprising physical agility, she showed one of the
actors how to trip and pretend to be on the verge
of falling."

Her pains in the rehearsal were not un-
rewarded. The performance was a great ova-
tion for her. She was called before the cur-
tain no less than a dozen times, and the audi-
ence did not leave until she had come out of
character long enough to express her thanks.
It was her ageless art alone that, in the opin-
ion of The Evening Post, redeemed the flaws
in the play. "Ellen Terry," it says, "is still
the delightful debonair creature of former
days, the embodiment of mirthful spirit and

304

CURRENT LITERATURE

the realization of ideal grace in acting.
Whether Mr. Shaw wrote the part for Miss
Terry or not, it is tolerably certain that no
other actress could have presented it with
such plausibility." To quote again:

"If time has dimmed her shining locks a little
with a touch of sober gray, her smile has lost
none of its brilliancy or witchery, her voice is as
soft, clear, and musical, her form as lithe, and her

step as light as ever. Her art, of course, is at its
ripest. It was a constant gratification to watch
the unstudied ease of her repose, or the sponta-
neous aptness of her gesture, and to listen to each
significant inflection of her flexible speech. The
play itself, in which she had chosen to appear,
made no demand upon and offered but small op-
portunity to her finest powers, but the authorita-
tive skill with which she gave vitality and sub-
stance to a fanciful and impossible character de-
noted the great actress and consummate artist."

A NEW CLAIMANT TO SHAKESPEARE'S FAME

r WAS not Shakespeare who wrote
his plays, but "another fellow by
the same name." When this con-
clusion was reached by Mark
Twain he probably did not know that a similar
theory had in all seriousness been advanced
by a German scholar who attributed both
plays and sonnets to a cousin of the famous
"Will," and bearing the same name — Shakes-
peare. Now, to add to the general confusion,
is wafted across the ocean, also from Ger-
many, the voice of Dr. Karl Bleibtreu, poet
and critic, who puts forward in the person
of Roger, Earl of Rutland, a new claimant to
the authorship of Shakespeare's plays. In our
January issue mention was made of this
theory in an article describing Tolstoy's on-
slaught on Shakespeare. Meanwhile we have
received Dr. Bleibtreu's essay, of which be-
fore we had seen only cabled extracts. It is
printed as an introduction to a "tragic com-
edy" entitled "Shakespeare," written by Dr.
Bleibtreu, in which the personality of the
alleged author of Shakespeare's plays and the
motives that probably actuated him in hiding
his identity are set forth in dramatic form.

In America Dr. Bleibtreu's theory has been
generally pooh-poohed. Prof. Edward Dowden
in a review published in the London Standard
affects to regard the theory as a jest. The
London Literary World also expresses its de-
rision in caustic terms. "The depths of hu-
man folly," it remarks, "are not yet sounded,
and there are always plenty of people in search
of a new sensation, and the sillier a theory is,
the more it fascinates them." Nevertheless,
Dr. Bleibtreu's reputation as a writer and
recorder of literary history compels attention,
and at least one eminent German Shakes-
pearian scholar. Dr. William Turszinsky, has
taken up the cudgels for the Earl of Rutland
and his champion.

In order to bestow the laurel upon the brow
of the Earl of Rutland, it becomes first neces-

sary to demolish the claims of Shakespeare
himself and then of Sir Roger Bacon. In an
earlier work Dr. Bleibtreu took issue with
the Baconians on behalf of Shakespeare. His
arguments against the Baconian theory are
not repeated in this essay.

Only one fact. Dr. Bleibtreu holds, has been
clearly established by the Baconians, namely
that the "ignorant and obscure" actor Shaxper
cannot have been the author of the works
passing under his name. (Dr. Bleibtreu
throughout, when referring to this actor who
passes for the author, spells his name Shax-
per. The plays themselves he refers to as
"Shakespeare's.") He assumes that what is
commonly related of Shaxper's (or Shakes-
peare's) early life is probably authentic. Young
Shaxper's well-known satire on the Justice of
the Peace proves, to Dr. Bleibtreu's satisfac-
tion, that he was a "witless imbecile, without
an inkling of literary ability." We do not
now know with any degree of certainty to what
theatrical company Shaxper belonged. We
do know, however, that some of his alleged
first plays were given by the Pembroke com-
pany, of which he was not even a member.
Under the dramatic conditions prevailing
then, we are informed, these plays could not
have been Shaxper's. The only fact of the
latter's life of which we are tolerably well
informed is the amount of the box-office re-
ceipts at the Globe Theater.

When the enterprising actor-manager had
saved enough to enable him to live comfort-
ably, he retired from the stage; also from
authorship. It has been advanced as the ex-
planation of the silence of Shaxper's latter
years that, like Goethe, he loved his comfort
better than his work. But, Bleibtreu argues,
Goethe was never a drunkard or a usurer, like
Shaxper. The only authentic documents from
Shaxper's hand in those years are his testa-
ment and the epitaph he wrote for himself.
In the former Shaxper left to his wife only

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

305

his "second bed." This, we are told, is a
ribald jest, worthy of an habitual drunkard.
The epitaph, on the other hand, is so poor
that any dweller in Grub street could have
written a better one.

In the literary criticism of his contem-
poraries, we read, Shaxper's name is hardly
mentioned. Ben Jonson in his "Discoveries"
makes only a brief and slighting reference to
him. Greene, it is thought, referred to him
when he spoke of a crow with "borrowed
plumes." Jonson's later poem on Shaxper, in
which he speaks of him as "of all time," may
have been written to the real Shakespeare. It
was published seven years after Shaxper's
death, and marks a complete change of front
in Jonson's attitude. Nash's well-known stric-
tures on Shakespeare's work were written in
1592, before the greatest of the dramas had
appeared. They may refer to certain spurious
Shakespearian plays which were rejected by
latter-day criticism. It is, however, . possible
that these early and apocryphal plays may in-
deed be ascribed to William Shaxper, the
actor.

In the greatest of the Shakespeare plays we
find an intimate acquaintance with the law,
court-life and military matters, which the
said Will Shaxper could not possibly have
acquired. Another instance which speaks
against his authorship is the declaration of the
two actors who edited the folio in 1623, that
in the original manuscripts of the plays hardly
a line had been changed or corrected. Shax-
per could not even write orthographically
until late in his career. Would not this fact
prove that Shaxper, far from being the author
of those plays, was exercising merely the
functions of a copyist? Is it not likely that
the Shaxper of the Globe Theater and the
Mermaid's Tavern merely gave his name to
the works of another who, for reasons of his
own, preferred to conceal his identity?

Yet what a wonderful man this other must
have been ! The ancients, as well as Dante,
Cervantes and Calderon, with their naive view
of life, are historical rather than literary in
their appeal. Gottfried von Strassburg and
the author of the "Nibelungenlied," altho lit-
erary giants, being epic writers merely, cannot
supply a term of comparison with the author
of Shakespeare's plays. Only two poets. Dr.
Bleibtreu avers, may be mentioned in this
connection — Goethe and Byron. And each of
these gives us only fragments of the philoso-
phy of which Shakespeare — the real Shakes-
peare— represents Cosmos and completion.

Whoever he may be, he cannot have been

of humble station, otherwise he would not
have known of the family skeletons of the
houses of Essex and Leicester or dared to
expose their secrets in "Hamlet." Nor would
he have risked deriding, in "Measure for
Measure," the prudery of the "virgin queen."
The great unknown, the author of Shakes-
peare's plays. Dr. Bleibtreu claims, was no
other than Roger, Earl of Rutland. Born in
1576, he died at the early age of thirty-six.
His brief life, it seems, was rich in events.
An orphan, like Hamlet, he was a protege of
Queen Elizabeth. In 1596 he made his "grand
tour" to France and Italy, where he visited
Venice, Verona, Mantua, Rome, Milan, and
studied law at the University of Padua. This
explains Shakespeare's continual reference to
student-life and his intimate knowledge of the
law; also his acquaintance with the details
of Italian scenery. Later Roger took part in
Essex's war quest to the Azores. Prospero's
kingdom, it may be added, has always been
associated with those islands. Rutland, we
are informed, was deeply involved in the Es-
sex conspiracy, which he probably had in mind
in writing "Julius Caesar." After Essex had
been beheaded, Rutland was condemned to
iipprisonment and the payment of a heavy
fine. In the period in which he was incar-
cerated— that is from 1601 to 1603— no
Shakespeare play appeared. When James the
First restored him to property and freedom,
Rutland lived quietly and far from the court
in his country seat. During this time, 1603- 161 2,
were written those plays which make Shakes-
peare's name immortal, with the exception of
"Hamlet," of which an earlier first draft ex-
ists, but which was not completed in its pres-
ent form until 1603. In that year Rutland
journeyed to Denmark to attend the baptism
of the crown prince. This fact accounts for
his familiarity with the terrace of Helsingfors
and many touches of local color in the play.
Guildenstern and Rosenkrantz, it must be men-
tioned, were at that time at the Danish court.
Their appearance in the earlier version is ex-
plained by the fact that two barons of those
names were actually fellow-students of Rut-
land at the University of Padua. In 1600
Rutland married the daughter of Sir Philip
Sidney, through whom he probably became
acquainted with Giordano Bruno's philosophy,
for, during his stay in England, Bruno had
found an asylum in Sidney's house. The last
plays Shakespeare ever wrote, "The Tempest"
and "Coriolanus," were published in 1612. On
the 26th day of June in that year Rutland
died. With him died Shaxper's inspiration.

3o6

CURRENT LITERATURE

Shaxper himself lived four years longer. He
died in 1616. The real Shakespeare, Dr.
Bleibtreu avers, like Byron, Raphael, Alexan-
der the Great and Burns, died at the age of
thirty-six. The flame within had consumed
the vessel.

If the data here collected are correct, some-
thing may, perhaps, be said for Bleibtreu's the-
ory after all. But again and again the question
suggests itself: What possible motive could
have prevented Rutland from revealing his
authorship? Bleibtreu suggests that political
reasons may have been the cause of his strange
reticence. The works of the Right Honorable
Roger Manners, Earl and Viscount of Rutland,
would, by reason of their boldness of treat-
ment, have aroused more opposition than the
dramas of an obscure player. Moreover, it
may not have been his intention never to lift
the veil. But his untimely death may have
prevented him from ever asserting his claim,
and, after his decease, Shaxper probably cau-
tiously destroyed every trace that might have
betrayed the secret, thus strutting in borrowed
plumes through eternity! But there is
yet another possibility. Rutland, Bleibtreu
asserts, like Leonardo da Vinci, was of a race
and of a time when prodigies abounded, and
men were not narrow in their application to
one art or one mode of life. He was, in fact,
the crown of this universality. This race of

giants, of which he was one, could do many
things that we cannot do; above all, it could
live without notoriety. "Can there be," the
author remarks, "a vision grander than this
master of all masters who, like Prospero,
quietly lays aside his wand to return into
eternity, his true home, without leaving his
name to the unprofitable gaping world?"

Perhaps his silence was an example of
Promethean defiance, that, having wrested
the sacred flame from the heavens and given
it to mankind, in return, immolates itself in
superhuman, Titanic expiation upon the altar
of oblivion. From whom. Dr. Bleibtreu asks,
should we expect the supreme sublimity of
such a view if not from him — the real Shakes-
peare ?

Literary chronicles, we are told, record one
similar instance of Germanic greatness and
self-sacrifice. The ancient handwriting of
the "Nibelungenlied" bears this inscription in
monks' Latin: "And this is the end of him
whom thou knowest not from Austria."
Legend has put forth several claimants to the
authorship of the great epic, but to this day
the question remains unsettled. "Surely," Dr.
Bleibtreu eloquently exclaims, "it were a pean
in praise of Germanic greatness, if thus two
of the mightiest singers of the race had joined
hands across the ages in proud disdain of per-
sonal immortality?"

THE NEW PLAY WRITTEN BY CATULLE MENDES
FOR SARAH BERNHARDT

HEN Sarah Bernhardt appeared re-
cently in the garb of Saint Teresa
in a new play by Catulle Mendes,
the foremost creative writer now
in France, Paris may be said to have
gasped. Mme. Bernhardt's famous "golden"
voice has given utterance to many characters
in her long career; "but never," as the Boston
Transcript remarks, "has it occurred to any
one that the voice was in reality the voice of
the cloister, that the accents of pious orisons
were best suited to its somewhat high-keyed
resonance, that Mme. Bernhardt would make
a better Saint Teresa than Duke of Reich-
stadt!" Yet the famous actress has accom-
plished this feat and, amid great outbursts of
applause, she acted the part of the Carmelite
nun a few weeks ago in the latest play from
the pen of the great French lyrist. It is
written in verse, and originally contained

4,500 lines, but was materially altered and
condensed by the author in accordance with
Madame Bernhardt's suggestions.

In the first scene, the priest Ervann, in his
hermitage in Spain, has succumbed to the
temptation of the witch Ximeira, found after-
ward to be a nightly worshiper of Satan.
But Teresa, on the way to her nunnery, ap-
pears, ecstatic and ethereal in blue and white,
and reclaims the priest. As she turns around
from praying for light before a crucifix, Er-
vann's features, which strongly resemble those
of the Christhead, unconsciously blend in har-
mony with the vision that still fills her soul.
Ervann goes on a pilgrimage of penance, and
becomes the leader of a mystic band of monks,
preaching the abolition of cloisters and of
celibacy. He assumes the name "The Arrived,'"
and is by some declared to be the Antichrist.
Teresa is ignorant of his identity with Ervann.

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

307

The second scene passes on the public
square of Avila at the nail-studded iron gate
of the Carmelite convent. There Ximeira, a
beggar, lurks, dogging Teresa and watching
for Ervann. On the square King Philip II's
Jesuit confessor, Don Luis, and the Grand In-
quisitor Farges talk Church and State in verse,
and quarrel ; for Ignatius of Loyola stands for
the new school, and the Inquisition is growing
out of date. Plenty of heretics, however, are
still burnt, and the crowd goes off to see these
"acts of faith."

Teresa (whose fame as a saint has begun to
fill all Spain) frees from the convent a con-
demned Jewess, replacing her in the dungeon
with a view to winning martyrdom. Instead,
Don Luis de Cyntho, her and the king's con-
fessor, gives her an order from the king, in-
stigated by the Pope, making her abbess at
Toledo, Olmedo, and Alba de Tormes, and
requesting her presence. Before starting, she
sees on the "Road of Calvary" outside the city,
in a mist lighted by the fires of a near-by
auto-da-fe, "The Arrived." She takes the ap-
pearance for an actual sight of the Saviour
vouchsafed to her prayers. On her way, by
night, on foot, accompanied by five sisters, in a
scene recalling the witches' sabbath in Faust, she
is set upon in a wild mountain gorge by hideous
forms led by Ximeira. "The Arrived" is un-
able to rescue her, having been bound by
Ximeira's lieutenants. But, bearing a cross
that has fallen across her path, and the little
band singing a holy song, with a word or two
Teresa opens a way, confounds Ximeira by
her purity, and goes her road, followed at a
distance by the foul gang, who fall on their
knees and are blessed by her.

Then follows the already famous fourth act
of the play. At the end of it, in the first
representation in Paris, the curtain rose no
less than eight times.

The opening scene of this act is in the Es-
corial, the historic palace and mausoleum of
the kings of Spain. Gleams of a dull morning
are seen through a great window. The dawn
mass is heard in the chapel adjoining. In the
gloom, a white form emerges from one of the
doors, bearing a torch. Another figure follows.
They go to another door, leading to the crypt,
and disappear. Then appear in the rear a
priest and choir children, preceded by a mace-
bearer. They also disappear a moment later.
Then enter eight pages and, following them,
two chamberlains. They open the casement
and draw aside the tapestries, and the dawn
flooding the spacious hall, reveals in the rear
the king's archers arriving, and monks, gran-

dees and oflScers of the royal household. Up
to this time hardly a word has been uttered.
Era Quiroga and Father Andres, leaders of
the two opposing factions within the church,
meet face to face.

Father Andres {cajoling) : It's a holiday
morning for me, Fra Quiroga, to see you at the
Escorial.

Fra Quiroga {crabbed): You made a quick trip.

Father Andres {amiably) : In ten stages, twenty
leagues, the same as you. {Fra Quiroga does not
conceal his bad humor.) What! ill-will between
colleagues? On account of the escaped heathen?

Fra Quiroga {roughly) : We have a better one.
This hand has taken by the neck, among the peb-
bles of the way, "The Arrived." The prison of
Olmedo is keeping him for us, and you shall see
the Antichrist in flames !

Father Andres : I long to. In effigy, however.

Fra Quiroga : Strive that some day, in reality,
they don't burn you, Father Andres !

Father Andres: I'll try to escape it!

Don Jaime, first chamberlain {to the eager
courtiers) : His Majesty, gentlemen, absent since
yesterday, is awaiting at the island of Aranjuez
a "Descent from the Cross," which has been sold
him very dear — five hundred ducats. {The
tumultuous crowd retires. He speaks to Don
Tomasso and to Don Luis) : So, my lords . . .

Dom Tomasso {without stirring) : Acquaint
the king with my presence, Don Jaime.

Don Luis {more conciliating) : Say to him,
duke, that I hope for an audience. {Don Jaime
insists the king is not at the Escorial.)

Fra Quiroga : No, he hasn't left the palace.

Don Luis {indicating the door of the crypt) :
He is there.

Don Jaime : Yes, among the royal dead whom
his vow has collected. {Don Luis and Dom
Tomasso dismiss their followers. Don Jaime
continues) : Yesterday, he supped with expia-
tory zeal on bread and water with the brothers
in the refectory, and repeated the service seated
on the lowest bench. When the bells rang he
came home, evening falling, slow, with his heavy
leg gnarled with gout, but very calm, his fore-
head unwrinkled, his eyes without doubt, lord
of the vast world and sovereign of himself. In
the oratory of the Confessors of the Faith, he
venerated the bones of Pastor and of Juste, con-
templated the august image of the Emperor, his
father, and himself, at times, he surveyed in an
immense glass beside the portrait. I left. I was
sleeping. Suddenly (as underground the lava
mounts, gnaws, swells, and opens the crater for
itself) I heard a human rumbling like a lion's sob
that reverberates in jets of subterranean thunder!
Oh ! under some frightful thought of wrong, it
was. the king's voice in the night! Half-clad,
distracted, I sprang to his door. He had ceased.
Peace was sleeping in the shadow where the
lamp waned. I only heard blows of discipline
falling, rhythmically cruel, upon flesh. No
groans. More blows, more muffled in the air
on account of the flabbier flesh, till the hour of
prime that the Major Chapel struck. Then the
king came out, so spectral under the flare of the
torch that you would have said it was a shroud
rising, not to the light, but to deeper dark call-
ing it. And it was a ghost that went under the

3o8

CURRENT LITERATURE

chapel, from the grave to the tombs. {A sound
in the direction of the crypt.) I know nothing
more. (The door opens.) Here he is! (The
three men have fallen hack. They regard Don
Philip, reascended from the sepulchers.)

Don Philip : Dead books, I have not read ye !
When the ancestral kings were laid to rest un-
der the mass, the prior of the tombs made me
this promise: that I could, in the days of trouble
and in sight of reefs, decipher counsel from the
coffined bones, the whole future being but a circle's
return. In vain have I lifted the covering from the
gloomy marbles ; no word has formed itself be-
neath my anxious eyes, from the uncertain al-
phabet of the silent bones. (He pushes to the
door.) Ah ! the elect, in their bliss that naught
curtails, shun temporal cares ! (He walks to
and fro, with crossed hands.) What shall I do?
After fifteen years of illusory hopes; yielding
peace, meek pride, bitten nails, when I hold
against the godless, wicked, cowardly island the
vast fleet (a swimming pack with its three thou-
sand jaws of hell) which shall silence, if I lose it,
the barkings of the wind and sea, I hesitate!
I spare thee, England — and thee, London — where,
under the cool insults of hypochondriac scorn,
my youth, coming from the land of golden wines,
slept off thy beer in the old Tudor's bed !

And heaven's interest lends itself to my
grudge ! The heresy-hydra has united its hun-
dred heads in one; Were it not for this
leader, it were but a crawling and destructive
worm. Now, they say — and it is true — that I
have (by way of dedication to St. Lawrence,
martyr, who rescued me from peril) built the
Escorial in the form of a gridiron, a great rec-
tangle with a church as handle. Well, let the
head of the hydra founder in the Handle and —
God's faith! — I'll make the rest of it blaze in
the nick o' time on my gridiron, while holding
the church in my hand! (Distracted.) Heavens!
to be at last — I, alone — the Word without reply,
whence foreyer flows Catholicism's fate; to be
over the living, my forehead mitred with fire,
more than Emperor and more than Pope — Vice-
God! (Suddenly trembling.) But last night —
(He has heard a sound; he turns round.)

Who comes here? A trick, or inadvertently, in
overhearing me one risks his head! (To the in-
quisitor.) Dom Tomasso! (To the provincial
of the Society.) Don Luis! (Both pretend to
wish to withdraw.) Stay.

(He dismisses Don Jaime and sits down in
the chair before the table. He signs to Dom
Tomasso to sit down on the left, to Don Luis
to sit down on the right. He extends his arms,
seizes the hands of the two priests. In a voice
muffled at first, then confidential) :

I have seen hell ! What, in your opinion, is hell ?
Fire, iron-red from fire writhing in the furnaces
of the eternal flames, the eternal flesh of souls?
No, priests, hell is not fire, it is water! Water
everywhere, water always, a sliding roll of de-
struction harrowed by the mutual shock of the
waves, an enormous armor's unwieldy flux with
daggers for spray! And the proof that all hell
lies in water is that it hates me, Christ's cham-
pion prince!

Yes, water hates mel Why, what bore me to
Genoa toward the plague, to London toward the
Tudor? The fatal, baleful, disastrous water!
Oh, how many galleons with shining cargo ripped

open by the rock in ambuscades of water! And
when I saw again, far from England's griefs,
Spain at last, who took from me my books, my
jewels, my costly plate and made me land, like a
stray buoy, at the throne of Caesar on a pilot's
back? The mighty and deceitful water with its
ravenous barkings. I am afraid of it when it
rains; I am afraid when I drink any, for the
spirit of malice in it mounts to the glass's brim,
bubble by bubble !

Now the traitorous element persists in its
hate. Listen ! Last night I thought I saw —
no, I really saw — beneath my steady eyes my
mirror open into a soothsaying gulf, like water.
(He is on his feet.) At first, it was the mo-
notonous and grand sea upon which my royal
image swam, with sure outline, in harmony \yith
the wave and fate. But vaguer, in the misty
distance that was rocking it (he sits down
again), my reflection changed past all resem-
blance to me. As a cloud, but now with strict
and unbroken circumference, disperses in unfold-
ing its form, my reflection — ever more different
and ever more vast, a formless chaos where im-
mensity reforms — overran the abyss and pressed
the horizon. Without my heart's ceasing to beat
in it and my reason to rule, it became, upon
the ocean that it indented, in a splendid and
nebulous expansion of snowy peaks, of flowery
vales, of winters, summers, churches raising
crosses o'er the towns — Spain ! And we were
sailing upon the ocean — I, Spain ! To the goal
that the Lord has set for us we were going,
having bronze fins and wings of cloth, and God's
right hand now and then set straight the rudder
of His vengeance that was lapsing.

But what fiend's hand broke up the cataracts
of the pole I In spurts of shower, in dense tor-
nadoes, the hurricane, dwindling, hovering, com-
ing down again, riddled, hollowed, kneaded the
ocean leaping up in waterspouts, as if Satan
under the other pole had shaken the bottom of
the gulf with shoulder-shoves ! And all the
water (a waterspout above, a waterspout below),
ferocious, tore our flesh oflf between its murlqr
fights ; slashed with harpy claws the oar in
splinters and the sail to rags; leapt to the
peaks; filled the lovely, yawning vales; mingled
(like two giant children dueling and exchanging in
sport rocks like grape-shot) thefts from moun-
tains and from walls ; wrenched the woods ; shook
with laughter to breach the bishop's palace and
the belfry tower.

And I, I felt, oh floating country! limb by
limb cut to pieces in the vast harm. As we
were but one, the sea, which was mangling
Albaceta from Cadiz, quartered me; in plucking
Castile from Leon, the tempest, fiber by fiber,
took my head from my shoulders; my death-
rattle sounded beneath the weight that was sub-
merging Aragon. And, when the water of wrath
and hell — the dragon water with its folds, with
its bites, with its slaver — had strained, severed,
scattered in waifs far, further, from wave to
wave and from rock to rock, my Spain of faith,
of hope and of pride, beneath the great birds
that devour corpses — I, I, like her scattered
in the breakers, in the harbors, on the strands,
everywhere, at one moment felt the shreds of
my body and the fragments of a world gasp,
bleed horribly, under the disgusting wing an,d
under the unclean beak.

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

309

Dom Tomasso: King! God warns you to
avenge His honor !

Don Luis: Jesus warns you to show pity,
my lord !

Dom Tomasso : It is His wrath that thunders
and blows in the hurricane.

Don Luis: It is His Jove that signals in the
terror.

Dom Tomasso : When, required to keep the
faith pure by fire, you answered: "Thus I, the
king, swear it!" what help did the Most High
refuse you?

Don Luis: When at times your Christian
heart was appeased, what sacred mercies were
not vouchsafed you? The judge mounts to the
skies when the jails open [referring to Teresa's
liberation of the condemned Jewess].

Dom Tomasso : A false saint in the Carmelite
convent at Avila, a crazy girl whom a pliant
priest has bewitched

Don Luis: A wise virgin, gold wholly pure
in the human dust.

Dom Tomasso : has caused a sorceress to

escape from the blessed torture. Let her be
judged! It is your soul that is at stake!

Don Luis : We are not saved by destroying one
v/ho has saved !

Dom Tomasso: She is hallucinated by gloomy
hell-fire !

Don Luis: She is illuminated, like a mirror,
by the sky!

Don Philip (who is absorbed in thought) :
Enough ! I understand very well your two sa-
cred zeals ! And I am willing to consent to them
more than you hope. For they aim at my wel-
fare. (He strikes with a little ivory hammer
upon a little copper coMn. Don Jaime enters.)
Vasquez, Manrico, in haste. (Don Jaime goes
out. The king takes Dom Tomasso aside.) Yes,
to cure the fruit, death to the worm that taints
it! Let us strike the enemies of the faith without
mercy. (The king's two secretaries enter. To
Dom Tomasso, almost in his ear, designating
Don Luis) : Tell nae, suppose we begin with
this one?

Dom Tomasso (vehement, in a low voice) :
No one has better earned a prompt punishment.

Don Philip: 1 think so. (Turning round to
Vasquez, one of the secretaries) : Then I will
dictate.

Dom Tomasso : O, most holy prince !

Don Philip (teking the pen, after having dic-
tated very rapidly in a low voice) : And sign 1
(He approaches Don Luis, conducts him toward
the back of the stage.) Yes, clemency is the
supreme blossoming of faith. iThe Holy Father
and you are right The Christian law is to
punish no one.

Don Luis : Be it so I

Don Philip : Still, this old man raves. The
taste for fire is on him to obsession. One might,
in his case, make an exception?

Don Luts: Charity sometimes resigns itself
to harshnesses.

Don Philip: Is it not so? (Turning round to
the other secretary.) Then I will dictate.

Don Luis: O, most just king!

Don Philip (taking the pen, after having dic-
tated very rapidly in a low voice): And sign!
(The secretaries deliver to him the parchments
and retire. The king delivers one order to Dom
Tomasso, the other to Don Luis. Then, very

softly) : Now read aloud. (Don Luis, very
blithe, starts to read first.) No! (To Dom
Tomasso exultant.) You!

Dom Tomasso (reading) : "I, the king, say :
Suspected, as it appears, of many bold opinions,
let Don Luis de Cyntho be placed in secret con-
finement on receipt of this order by the discreet
vigilance of Dom Farges, clerk of the throne
for this office. Done at the Escorial."

Don Philip (to Don Luis): Your turn!

Don Luis (reading) : "I, the king, say : Sus-
pected, as it appears, of cruel zeal, let Dom To-
masso Farges, in spite of age and the crozier,
be by Don Luis, whom we appoint for this office,
discreetly placed in secret confinement." (The
two priests turn away.)

Don Philip : Well ! why do you delay obeying
me ? You bite each other, eager dogs ! Is it
less sweet to you for being ordered to? And
has your mutual plot failed, — unless, indeed it acts
to ruin us all three? O the solitude of omnipo-
tence, alas! Selfishness exhorts and interest
flatters me. At this fated or providential
moment that saves or ruins Spain, and my-
self, and heaven, when, uncertain how good
or ill we are, to that one who judges men in
the name of the king, to this one who judges
the king in the name of God — to these two
priests, the two halves of my faith, I confess
my doubt on the brink of the great work; they,
faf from tying my courage tighter in a single
knot, pluck it in two pieces and by their discords
break it, as the water dismembered my body.
And it is not love of the celestial crowns that
moves you. You care but for your hates. Igna-
tius there, Dominic here, only guards the in-
terest of his more triumphant order. The old
inquisitor and the young apostle strive, not both
for heaven, but each against the other and would
not balk at exorbitant spoils, had they to be
won on altar-fragments ! At least, no longer
lie. No more muffled menace. Face each other.
I deliver to Dominic, Ignatius — and the cassock
to the frock. Come now, profit by it Merci-
less monk and courtier priest, arrest each other I
If you need assistance, call my archers. Rush I
And what matter if country, church and throne
sound, horridly, in agony, their death-rattle as
you throttle one another!

Don Luis (almost on his knees) : Yes, kingl
God enlightens you and faith makes you worthy
to discern in me what there may have been of
hypocrisy. The tares of humanity still dispute
the vile field of my soul with the grain of grace.
(At this moment, the doors of the gallery hav-
ing opened, Teresa and her train of Carmelite
nuns are seen descending the grand staircase
amid the salutes and kneelings of the tumultu-
ous crowd of courtiers. Ximeira is T/isible for
a moment among the rabble that follows the
nuns.) But the maid of heaven whom you sent
for comes, like the dawn preceded by the dusk.
And, as Mary clothed the saint who worshiped
her she will clothe you with the gold of salva-
tion!

Don Philip (charmed, dazzled, toward Teresa
and the nuns descending processionally) : If
there be cloisters for the celestial phalanxes,
oh! they are like these Carmelite nuns. Angels,
candor of stars without spot and of lilies with-
out decay, under the blue crosses of theif linen
wings. (Teresa approaches, the nuns remaining

3IO

CURRENT LITERATURE

in the gallery. Her arms are Ailed with flowers.
She kneels.)

Teresa: Sire, King of Christians, we gathered
these flowers on our way — for you. Here they all
are.

Don Philip (enraptured and sad) : My old
affliction darkens at their young hues.

Teresa : By a vow that I made, they are bet-
ter than flowers. The hermit of the road, the
passers-by, the turning-box attendants, have
whispered prayers in these calices, wishing you
to be saved. This lily's a pater; this jessamine,
an ave; an agnus, this gladiolus; these conse-
crated garlands of glicine are clusters of lit-
anies {she rises, goes to the holy-ivater basin,
showers the flowers with drops of consecrated
water), and it is Paradise we complete for you
in sprinkling with holy water a bouquet of
prayers.

Don Philip: Alas! the highest kings, with
virtues the most renowned, are all black with
sins. Their glory has these glooms. In vain do
I walk amid the general flutter, splendid and
great. My shadow is greater than I. God will
not hear the royal prayer.

Teresa: God cannot disobey prayer.

Don Philip (profoundly delighted and moved) :
Do give me those flowers !

Teresa (familiar, playful, divinely childish) :
You are in too great a hurry ! Our Lord Jesus
is deeply concerned. What he. King of Heaven,
in his far-off mystery can do, you. King of
Spain, can do on earth. Do it. If he saves you,
it is right that you now save some one here
below. Give and take !

Don Philip: For whom do you wish pardon?
Some mnocent person whom they want to suffer?

Teresa (still withholding the flowers) : Every
innocent person has his pardon in himself.

Don Philip (still under the spell) : What
guilty one shall I forgive?

Teresa (sadly, rather fast) : A god among
the Hebrews ! An Antichrist haunted by shad-
owy angels; but, of all the sinners whom Luci-
fer inspires, the most pitiable, since he is the
worst.

Don Philip : My sister ! You know this an-
athema ?

Teresa : No, I have never seen him. "The
Arrived" — that is his name — will be shown me
but at the needed time. Only I have been told
that, a wretched apostate and pretender, he is
on a dangerous road. So, Sire, with a writing
signed by your hand, order — God attesting! —
that this notorious criminal, when heaven shall
give the signal by my humble hand, be, no
matter what the place, the day or the moment,
free from every bond, safe from every punish-
ment, tho shut up for life — sentenced even. He
needs time to repent.

Don Philip : Death is what so ungodly a man
has deserved!

Teresa (very grave) : No. Remorse. I speak
with authority.

(The king, after a moment's resistance, yields
to Teresa's will. He sits. He begins to write;
stops at times, hesitating. In proportion as he
writes Teresa, happy, smiling, celestially infan-
tile, lays one by one the flowers beside the king.
It is, as it were, a prayer-flower for each word
of pardon. She has given all the flowers when
the king has finished writing. The last flower

is the reward for the signature. She takes the
parchment. Then, after a slow salutation, Teresa
goes back to the Carmelite nuns.)

Don Philip (as if m ecstasies) : Holy witch-
craft— ravishing purity ! Can she wish aught to
which everything does not consent? Verily, she
would conquer the unchained hell of the storm
and of the baleful water ! (He goes toward
her.) Come back! (She stops. He speaks
fervently): O saint! You can make the Ar-
mada glide over a subject sea from the Tagus
to the Thames. The departure shall thunder
at once in the harbor! Board, with your sis-
ters, the ship that sails first and — warriors of
the sky, foreigners from above — give my army
a vanguard of angels !

Teresa : Alas ! the only help to be claimed of
us is far-off fervor, and exile on our knees. We
have so many cares, from dawn to eve — the
orchard to tend, the veils to wash, the spinning,
the altar to be dressed with the season's flowers;
and the servant should stay at home.

Don Philip: She should accept — and not
choose — her task! When the leprosy of schism
attacks so many men, God would wash them
clean in all their hideous blood !

Teresa : That is not His way of cleansing
lepers.

Don Philip: Do you pity the race, then, in
which blasphemy abounds?

Teresa : I pity those who do not take pity on
everyone.

Don Philip : Moses used to exterminate the
hostile nations !

Teresa : Into the Promised Land he was not
admitted !

Don Philip : David raised to heaven hands
still armed!

Teresa : David was the night, of which Jesus
was the dawn !

Don Philip : Jesus said : "I bring" (as Mat-
thew heard it) "a sword, and not peace."

Teresa: He did not say it to me!

Don Philip: He raised up the crusade of the
Catholic barons to his Tomb !

Teresa : Alas ! blood upon relics !

Don Philip : For the soil and the honor of
France he called the maid of Orleans, O maid
of Avila ! against the infamous Englishman and
his devilish ally. Do you envy nothing in her?

Teresa : Yes, her torture ! Providence assigns
to each his way. The saint of the French was
a human archangel. God made her His gesture;
He puts in me His dream.

Don Philip : The Emperor Charles V., my
father, armed for a truceless crusade, took Tunis
from the Turks, Rome from the hangmen, held
Flanders !

Teresa: The monk wept the hero. What?
Conquer! At the stage we are at in the Divine
work, what country is not all men's? When
the Lord made man, the Lord God did not take
the clay of the earth in a single place, but He
took dust from the four quarters of the globe:
from the South, where the scorching air dries
the plain yellow; from the East, green with
bowers; from the North, white with rime; from
the West, where that shatterer of oaks and of
masts, the hurricane, twists the rain and the
cloud into the waterspout. That in no country
the soil of the grave should say to the drooping
and dying man, travel-weary: "Who, then, art

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

thou? I do not know thee!" But that, in every
land, the motherly soil might say to the man
happy at last to rest his bowed-down head and
bursting heart in it: "Sleep in my bosom, my
child !" And, when the mud under our feet
speaks thus, you have strifes over your stay of
an hour — facing the eternity of the spirit, where
nothing counts save the good we have done?
Shall you keep (as one takes his luggage along)
your differences of city and of tongue, and your
plunder, in the Life where pride no longer is?
In the full-blown triumph of the Elect, you will
blossom but with faded aureoles 1 And, since
there is but one heaven, wherefore so many coun-
tries ?

Don Philip : Then Spain must defy the Eng-
lishman on the hazardous wave without you?

Teresa : I shall pray for both.

Don Philip (wrathfully) : Nun ! Astounded
that he is not helped, the king might refuse you
Olmedo, Medina, Alba, and Toledo.

Teresa : In that case, we would go and pick
up the stones from the roads with our hands to
build convents.

Don Philip {threatening) : Know that people
hate and suspect you.

Teresa: I have the tranquillity of hating no
one.

Don Philip : Am I then no longer /, that I
am insulted thus? (Gruflly) That safeguard,
return it to me !

Teresa (offering the parchment): Here it is!
Since it pleases the king, charitable for a mo-
ment, to descend from the throne in order to
take back an alms, here it is. What is it, in-
deed? Only, before Jesus Christ, a sworn par-
don and a written oath. But on the day when,
before the Incorruptible Judge, faults shall no
longer have splendor for a refuge ; when, among
the herd at the great human awakening, with
the vanity of a scepter in your hand you shall
appear; while — witnesses of your annals — ^the
Jews, the apostates, and the iconoclasts shall
acknowledge their defeat and your pious inten-
tions, an humble voice trembling at the foot of
the Holy of Holies (recognized perhaps by
Jesus) shall speak: "This is he who, in Spain,
held to an oath by the World and to a vow
by the (Hiurch, was a Christian king and broke
his word to his God !" (Don Philip has bent
hts head, filled with shame and fear. He does
not take back the safeguard.)

Don Philip: Keep it! (Turning away his
head.) Keep it ! Still, if it be no illusion that
the Spirit speaks through you and says what
must be believed, what will become of the ships
in the dire hazard?

Teresa (turned toward him) : The bare feet
of Jesus are masters of the sea. (The Carmel-
ite nuns depart processionally.)

The action shifts to the crypt of the Carmel-
lite Convent of Olmedo, of M^hich Teresa is
now Mother Superior. The witch, Ximeira,
who, having formerly been its abbess, knows
its secrets, steals into St. Teresa's convent at
Olmedo and poisons the host. In a powerful
scene she artfully shows Teresa how the latter
had mistaken the sight of Ervann for a divine
vision. Ximeira, however, does not disclose

Ervann's identity with "The Arrived." Her
purpose is to make Teresa think that in fan-
ciedly cherishing a heavenly, she has really
been indulging an earthly, love, in order that,
after communicating, she may die in despair.
Ximeira leaves her in a faint before her nuns.
On Teresa's recovery of consciousness and
equanimity, Ervann whom his disciples
have rescued on the way to the stake (the
flames of which are seen through an embra-
sure on a distant hill), appears and implores
her to fly and become his wife, only to meel
with a scornful refusal. She recognizes, how-
ever, that she had mistaken his face in the past
for an apparition of Christ. Meanwhile the
forces of the Inquisition press upon them and
retake "The Arrived." Ximeira, who is still
enamored of the latter, also re-enters,
wounded, to prevent Teresa from partaking ol
the poisoned host, that she may use the king's
pardon for him. And now, for the first time,
it is revealed to the saint that her suitor —
Ervann — and "The Arrived" are one and the
same person. Thereupon Teresa burns the
pardon. Love for her body is the only sin she
cannot forgive, and she yields him up to pun-
ishment at the stake.

A quarter of a century elapses and the cur-
tain rises upon the great church of the Carmel-
lites of Alba de Tormes. The nuns lie prone
in the nave round a high couch, covered with
a bridal veil. This is drawn, and Teresa,
worn to a ghost, is seen on a bed of white lilies,
her long white hair loose. She is near the goal
of a holy life now, but before her spirit goes,
her nuns pray to hear from her "the word,"
the secret of sanctity. All the past assembles
at her bridal deathbed. The grand inquisitor,
aged before, now centenarian, livid under his
cardinal's hat, comes vaunting his vigorous
policy. "Teresa is silent with a look of anger,"
chant the nuns. The dapper Jesuit father
comes, now a handsome old man, and asks
whether he has done well. "She is silent, with
a look of contempt." A trumpet blast and a
twisted and hideous creature in black and gold
is brought on a litter. It is what remains of
Philip II, and he mumbles also the question
whether he has done well, having burnt here-
tics for their salvation during all his reign.
"She is silent with a look of pity." Then in
staggers an aged beggar-woman, the witch
Ximeira, touched by grace at last, and
come to die in the same moment as Teresa.
Teresa speaks, murmuring that here is one
who has found "the word," the sinner that
repenteth.

Her last words are : "Jesus — Ervann — Love."

Religion and Ethics

IS THE PULPIT A "COWARD'S CASTLE"?

■^ARLY last fall, so it is stated, two
clergymen sat in New York dis-
cussing the future of a young man.
One of these is described as "one
of the two leading preachers of Greater New
York," the other as "the first pulpit orator
of Greater Boston." The question discussed
was what to do with the eldest son of the
former.

"I shall put him into business or into law,"
said the father. "I shall have no son of mine
undergo what I have suffered. I want one
member of my family independent and his
own master, even if he hasn't a cent in the
world."

The younger man needed no explanation.
"I have just resigned from my own church,"
he said, "to starve and be free. There is only
one remedy."

This anecdote is told in the New York
Independent by Herbert D. Ward (son of
Dr. William Hayes Ward and husband of
Elizabeth Stuart Phelps-Ward). Taken in
conjunction with Dr. Crapsey's radical utter-
ances since his exchange of the pulpit for a
lecture platform, and with the Rev. Madison
C. Peters' abandonment of his church minis-
try on the ground that "the pulpit in America,
with here and there a notable exception, is a
'coward's castle'," the story may serve as an
appropriate point of departure in considering
the present status of the minister. Mr. Ward
regards the situation as grave — so grave that
he discourages young men from entering the
ministry at all, unless they have money. He
speaks as a graduate of a theological semi-
nary, and as one who has had the confidence
of ministers. "Under the present conditions,"
he says, "a poor man cannot develop his in-
dependent manliness and live in the pulpit. If
he does live, he borders close to the time-
server and the hypocrite." Two instances are
cited to reinforce this position. One is that
of a minister "happy, alert, cheerful, hopeful,
with a devoted congregation behind him, and,
more marvelous than that, a cabinet of dea-
cons that are his advisers, not his masters."
This minister has an income independent of
his church salary, and his deacons know it.
The other case is that of "a brilliant man in
Hartford, who preached a sermon on sane

Socialism." This minister had no independent
resources, and, in consequence, "he, his wife
and children starved for two years until he
captured a small pulpit in Vermont, where he
is temporarily respected." All of which simply
goes to show, in Mr. Ward's judgment, that
money dominates the American pulpit to-day.
He continues:

"The madness for money — the ease of specula-
tion— the enormous fungi fortunes — the high wages
and higher prices — the worship and fear of wealth
— unbounded luxury and unbridled extravagance
— all these and many other forms of Mammon
hysteria have brought about a revolution in living
conditions. Men are no longer measured by
spirituality, by intellectual achievements. Many
may be respectable, but only the bank account has
respect. Nine-tenths of our leading churches are
dominated by the insolence of wealth. Nine-
tenths of our homes are mentally atrophied by its
specter. This is not only the fact in cities, but
the miserable conditions have been aped in coun-
try towns by the local coterie of the nouveoux
riches, and are even filtering into the primitive
fastnesses of our mountain hamlets.

"It is a miserable fact which we must honestly
face that he average man, as well as the average
church, is hypnotized out of his independence and
manhood by the rich man of his environment.
And the poor minister — who entered the clergy
with white wings flying, with soul inflated by
noble enthusiasms, with heart choked with the
beauty of holiness, and with his mind made up to
be a modem martyr, if necessary, finds himself,
after a few parish changes and with heart choked
by the diabolism of ugliness, wondering whether
he has any tenets at all he dare call his own, and
harassed by cowardly parishioners on the one side
and threatened by lordly moneybags on the other."

Mr. Ward's complaint is that the very con-
ditions under which ministers are compelled
to live and preach at the present time pre-
clude honesty and liberty. A second critic,
himself a minister — the Rev. Dr. Mark Alli-
son Matthews — thinks that clergymen are
lacking in courage, and largely to blame for
their own situation. Writing in the Chicago
Presbyterian paper, The Interior, he says:

"As a whole, the ministry is more or less muz-
zled. There are thousands of ministers who ap-
parently are afraid to speak and act as the
authority of the pulpit warrants. They are cer-
tainly in need of holy boldness. Were they bold
in proportion to their righteousness, and were
they to speak as such boldness would demand, the
moral conditions of this country would be in-
stantly changed. . . . They seem to dread the
hardships and dangers of an aggressive, coura-

RELIGION AND ETHICS

313

geous line of action. They are afraid of wound-
ing feelings, which in itself is an illogical position,
because the minister ought to prick the conscience,
wound the sinful heart, and bring conviction to
every one of his hearers.

"Some are afraid of the things that may be said
about them or to them. They dread the attack
which the devil and his agents may make upon
them. They fear the bucket of filth which corrupt
and degenerate men may try to hurl at them.

"Why should they fear the rage, froth or darts
of the agents of hell? Grod is their director and
protector. If they are conscious of the righteous-
ness of their cause, they should speak, even
though their words emptied all hell of its sleuth-
hounds and started them in hot pursuit after the
preacher. There are some who are afraid of
their positions. Why should they be? If the
minister is called of God, his commission is from
above, and his position and right to speak are
eternal."

A third writer, described by the editor of
The Independent as "an ordained clergyman"
who "has been the pastor of important
churches in progressive cities and is still in
active service," throv^s light on the ministerial
status from another angle. In an article ap-
pearing in The Independent under the title,
"Confessions of an Undistinguished Heretic,"
he gives to the public an extraordinarily vivid
autobiographical document, setting forth the
conflict between his own deepest convictions
and his pulpit utterances. He admits that his
creed is practically that of Dr. Crapsey, but
he adds: "Much as I honor and admire Dr.
Crapsey, I am not scurrying to put myself in
the pillory beside him." He writes further:

"Some will say that I ought to leave the minis-
try. It is clear as day to me that I belong in the
Church, and right where I am. The children
run to me when I walk the streets. The poor
and humble swing their doors open wide when I
knock, unbosom their sorrows and their secret
joys, and grant me their benediction. Boys come
to me to counsel them what business or profes-
sion they shall adopt, and men talk with me
freely of the deepest things of life. I enjoy
preaching, and Sunday after Sunday I feel my-
self a very priest of God, ministering holy faith to
needy souls and sending men to their tasks \yith
new strength from the touch of the infinite spirit.
This was the work to which I gave my life ; why
should I leave it? I did not consecrate myself
to the chattering of a creed or confession! had I
done so, with my change of view I could only
withdraw. I gave myself to helping men in the
spirit of Jesus Christ, and that I can do and will
do until my superiors shall say me nay.

"I have hopes that before many years the here-
sies, as undoubtedly they are, of the miraculous
origin and resurrection of Jesus will become at
least tolerated opinions. With patience, tact and
perseverance I hope some day to bring out this de-
liverance of my soul, as I have already waited
in patience for a time to declare my opinions of
the atonement. To expose it now would en-
damage ray real work, which is not to teach

history, not even true history concerning Jesus
and His Apostles and His Church, but to enlarge
lives with real religious faith, and induce sound
morals and gentle virtues through devotion to
duty as God gives me to see it. One shrinks from
being called a hypocrite, but it is encouraging to
remember that in Jesus's time they were not
branded as hypocrites who counted themselves
still Jews and went to the feast, while in utter
contradiction with the doctors of the law and the
prevailing opinion, but they were styled hypocrites
whose prayer was not prayer, whose charity was
not charity, who were not real in their religious
life. Let a man love God with all his heart, live
deeply in the spirit of the Prophet of Nazareth,
dare to cherish as his creed whatever God teaches
him is true, and be wise enough to speak to his
fellowmen, not in order to relieve his mind, but
to do them good."

The leading organ of the Methodist Episco-
pal church in this country, The Christian Ad-
vocate (New York), takes up this anonymous
"confession" in a caustic leading article. It
brands the writer as "a coward and a de-
ceiver," and goes on to comment:

"Here is a man supported by a church, receiv-
ing the honors as well as the emoluments, going
in and out among the people, knowing that if he
were to tell them his real sentiments their hearts
would be broken and in grief indescribable they
would send him away, deliberately endeavoring by
'patience, tact and perseverance' to wean them
from their faith on what they believe to be vital
points, and to do this without their knowing it.

"We maintain that this man is a hypocrite.
Dr. Crapsey was not a hypocrite. He fairly and
squarely declared his sentiments. The sentiments
were contrary to his vows and his ritual ; but he
persuaded himself that he was within bounds and
avowed his views, and when his church declared
him to be beyond bounds he left the body. . . .

"This article is not a. 'confession' ; for the
writer takes refuge in hiding his name. It is a
cowardly act — and a reckless one ; for it throws
under suspicion the ministerial profession."

The Independent is much more lenient
toward the clergyman involved. In such a
situation, it thinks, a man can only follow
the dictates of his own conscience. Sometimes
he may be right, sometimes wrong. The same
paper comments further:

"It may be hard for others to agree that the
accepted history of the origin of Christianity and
of the life and resurrection of Christ is not essen-
tial to Christianity. Those who take this usually
accepted view, expressed as it is in ancient and
modern creeds, must exclude such a one from
their fellowship. That is their right and their
personal duty. But such is not his view. He be-
lieves that such history is unhistoric, therefore
unimportant, and that the vastly superior elements
in Christianity are those in which he agrees with
the teachings of Christ and the apostles as to the
privilege and duty of the sonship of man toward
his loving Father in Heaven. With such a con-
viction he cannot withdraw. He will go peaceably
if required, but he will try as long as he can to

314

CURRENT LITERATURE

teach and preach this love of God and this dis-
cipleship of Jesus Christ. But we cannot put blame
on those who discover his failure to accept very
important articles in the creeds, and who tell
him, and with authority, that his place is not with
those who believe. They may properly bring and
press the charge of heresy, which he will as prop-
erly try to avoid."

The New York Observer (Presbyterian)
argues that it is unreasonable to expect that
a church should come over to the point of
view of an individual or of several individ-
uals. "It is not too much," it thinks, "to ex-
pect that an individual will either conform his
teachings to the accepted tenets and policy of
a great communion, or quietly, without a
flourish of trumpets, withdraw from its offi-
cial ranks, serving the Master as a layman as
he did before he promised an allegiance which
he can no longer in honesty give." Comment-
ing in similar spirit, the Philadelphia Presby-
terian says :

"It is somewhat curious that so many of our
brethren who do abandon the pulpit, or depart
from the faith of the universal church, proclaim
their belief that everybody who does not think as
they do is either dishonest or a coward. We con-
fess that to us it sounds cheap. And we are quite
sure that it is not liberal in any true sense. If
thought is to be free, why is it cowardly for one
to think that God's truth is revealed in his Son

and in his Book, and that a preacher of the truth
may deliver the message to the Church, within the
Church, and with the Church's sanction? Does
genuine liberty require that one shall be free to
declare his own views of things, apart from the
revealed truth of God, received by the Church?
The Lord himself said, 'Ye shall know the truth,
and the truth shall make you free.' We believe
that the Church and the Church's ministry who
have received the truth as God has revealed it
are free indeed.

"The pulpit is at the farthest remove from being
a 'coward's castle.' It is an excited fancy of our
brother that thinks it so. To say so is an unwar-
ranted aspersion upon men of God who have ever
proclaimed the truth, without fear or favor, to
the leading of men to repentance and new life in
Jesus Christ. Those who have paid the salaries
have usually been those most desirous to hear the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
And to talk about the bondage and thraldom of a
paid salary is pure nonsense.

"Our brethren who have left their pulpits in
order to be free to say what they really think have
been honest in so doing, and deserve honor and
praise for choosing to be honest rather than to
stay in a Church whose faith they have lost, and
preach their loss of faith to those who still hold
it. But instead of escaping from a coward's cas-
tle, they have thrown away a great and divinely
appointed ministry. Their misjudgment of their
brethren whom they have left in the faithful and
fearless discharge of the duties of the pulpit re-
veals the weakness of their own position. And
for them we earnestly wish the courage that may
help them to confess their own mistake."

THE FUNDAMENTAL DIFFERENCE BETWEEN EASTERN

AND WESTERN IDEALS

BE^glHERE is probably no other world-
^Mf^ problem to-day that has the inter-
pfi^^^^ est and fascination presented by
tvwil^i^^ the gradual awakening of the Asi-
atic peoples ; and among living Americans who
have studied this awakening few, if any, have
had better opportunities for understanding it
than Prof. George William Knox, of Union
Theological Seminary, New York. For sev-
eral years he lived in the East as a professor,
first at the Union Seminary, later at the Im-
perial University, in Tokyo. During his res-
idence in Japan he became conscious as never
before of the almost impassable gulf fixed
between the Orient and the Occident, and de-
termined to do what one man could to bridge
over that gulf. Since his return to America
he has done much with pen and voice to in-
crease our knowledge of the Orient, and
has recently published a book,* which the
New York Evening Post characterizes as

•The Spirit of the Orient. By George William Knox.
Thomas Y. Crowell k Company.

"one of the keenest in analysis of any book
written on the Far East." In it he differen-
tiates most lucidly and vividly the fundamen-
tal ideals that underlie Eastern and Western
civilizations.

In the sense that Europe may be said to
have a fundamental and unified "spirit" — in
its religion, for instance, and its educational
traditions — Asia has no unity. There is no
common history nor law nor social organiza-
tion in the Orient, so that no inter-racial con-
sciousness is realized. "To the vast majority
of these populations," says Professor Knox,
"the thought of oneness has never occurred,
for Asia has never been one in war or peace.
Only in our day, by the reflex influence of
Europe, are Orientals coming to recognize a
certain solidarity." The nearest approach to
a unifying influence has been Buddhism, and
the religious consciousness out of which it
grew. It is in a contrast between the re-
ligious spirit as manifested in the East and
the West that we get the clearest understand-

RELIGION AND ETHICS

315

ing of the essential difference between the
two worlds. Professor Knox writes on this
point :

"Europeans think of this universe as created
by God out of nothing some six thousand years
ago. Man is God's child, made in God's image,
with an immortal soul and a destiny of pain or
suffering according to his deeds and faith. Thus
immense emphasis is put on the personality of
God and man, while the world has been of sec-
ondary importance. So it has been in the thoughts
of Christendom for a thousand years, and other
ideas are slowly displacing some of these only
now in our own day, and however our thoughts
of the world change, our estimate of the supreme
value of personality remains. But to the Asiatic
all is different. The universe with its fixed laws
and its resistless fate is the ultimate fact. It ex-
ists from everlasting to everlasting. It goes on
and on in ever-repeating cycles. It comes from
chaos, assumes definite form, continues for a
while, returns to chaos, and repeats the round
worlds without end. Man is a part of this proc-
ess, as are the gods themselves, the whole an
organism with men and gods as incidents in its
mighty movement."

In a very real sense, then, it may be said
that "the organism" is all-important in the
East, "the individual" in the West. The one
point of view has meant stagnation, the other
progress. Professor Knox suggests that the
very vastness of Asia is responsible for the
static philosophy of the Oriental peoples.
Nature is at once too prolific and too terrible;
"too prolific, it yields enough for man without
calling for strenuous endeavor; too terrible,
it teaches him that his utmost labor is im-
potent before its vast calamities." As a re-
sult, the people have become indifferent and
lethargic, pursuing the common task without
zest or ambition. "While individuals are
ambitious of achieving success," asserts Pro-
fessor Knox, "for the race there is no vision
of a better time to come." He continues:

"With such conceptions of nature and man it is
not surprising that history in its true sense does
not exist. The Hindus are notoriously deficient
in historic interest. In China there are records
enough, and of two kinds, — mere annals of the
past, dry and without human interest; or ethical,
the past made to enforce by its events the teach-
ings of the Sages. Real history has to do with
progress, with the successive embodiment of high
ideals in society. That makes the interest of the
European story. In Asia there have been endless
wars, but these have been mere struggles of king
against king, or of race against race, resulting in
no constitutional development and leaving the
people unchanged whoever won. Hence it is irn-
possible to get interested in the story, as it is
intolerably tedious, without real movement or
result.

"The internal story has been like the external.
Great empires, like the Mughal, have arisen, mag-
nificent, potent luxurious, sometimes liberal and

intellectual. But the same result has always fol-
lowed, and soon the splendor of the capital has
caused intolerable misery among the people. Or,
as in China, conquest has introduced merely a
new set of rulers, who in turn have been trans-
formed into the likeness of the people they have
conquered."

Professor Knox passes from this rather
dispiriting picture of Oriental conditions to
emphasize a 'more lofty characteristic of the
Eastern temperament. "In Asia," he says,
"the characteristic is retiracy from the world,
a certain aloofness of soul, an indifference to
outward state and fortune, and a conviction
that salvation is in the mind only. There is
an exaltation above the heat and struggle of
the world which charms many Occidentals, all
of us, perhaps in certain moods." This atti-
tude is well illustrated in the following in-
stance :

"An Asiatic who had lived in diplomatic circles
in Paris declared that the game was not worth
the candle, — the endless engagements, the notes
which must be answered, the formal parties and
dinners and public functions. His own ideal was
a garden and a mansion where one could do as he
pleased, where one visited his friends at his own
desire, and entertained or not as the whim seized
him, where there was no mail, and no newspapers,
and no need for a calendar or a notebook. Our
civilization was so filled with machinery that it
destroyed repose and charm and the true taste of
life. We hasten and have so much to do; why
not enjoy now what we have? Time hastens
away: why use it all in preparing to live? Be-
sides, after all, what are these reforms? Taking
the world as it comes, you cannot change it."

This is but one of numberless instances in
which Asiatics have shown antipathy to
Western customs on the ground that our
wisdom and our ethics are on a lower plane
than their own. Professor Knox cites the
opinion of a Japanese scholar and soldier who
rejected Western learning because of its
materialism, and he says further: "The
notion that our superiority is physical and
material, while theirs is moral and spiritual,
is widespread and deeprooted." An Indian
sage quoted by Professor Knox makes these
distinctions between Eastern and Western
activities :

"In the West you observe, watch and act. In
the East we contemplate, commune, and suffer
ourselves to be carried away by the spirit of the
universe. In the West you wrest from nature
her secrets, you conquer her, she makes you
wealthy and prosperous, you look upon her as
your slave, and sometimes fail to recognize her
sacredness. In the East nature is our eternal
sanctuary, the soul is our everlasting temple, and
the sacredness of God's creation is only next to
the sacredness of God himself. In the West you
love equality, you respect man, you seek justice.

3i6

CURRENT LITERATURE

In the East love is the fulfillment of the law, we
have hero worship, we behold God in humanity.
In the West you establish the moral law, you in-
sist upon propriety of conduct, you are governed
by public opinion. In the East we aspire, perhaps
vainly aspire, after absolute self-conquest, and the
holiness which makes God its model. In the West
you work incessantly, and your work is your wor-
ship. In the East we meditate and worship for
long hours, and worship is our work. Perhaps
one day the Western and Eastern men will com-
bine to support each other's strength and supply
each other's deficiencies. And then that blessed
synthesis of human nature shall be established
which all prophets have foretold, and all the de-
vout souls have sighed for."

"The blessed synthesis" toward which this
Indian seer aspires represents an ideal with
which Professor Knox is himself largely in
sympathy. "We are already debtors of the
East," he remarks, "but it has more to give."
He adds, in concluding:

"We widen our view of the world as we learn
that we are not 'the people,' but that God has an

equal care for the multitudes in Asia, and that
they have their rights, their dignity, and their
claims upon respect and reverence. But beyond
this the East may teach us lessons of which we
stand in need. The material and physical ele-
ments of our civilization are too prominent be-
yond all question. Our life is burdensome and
complicated. We are intent upon the means of
life, and not sufficiently interested in life itself.
We are absorbed in the concrete, the external, the
particular, and not reverent of reflection, medi-
tation and patience. We are individualistic and
personal, too certain of ourselves, too mindful of
our position in the organism. The East may cor-
rect these errors and teach us that our life is not
in the abundance of the things which we possess.
"In the East the organism is supreme; in the
West the individual. The Spirit of the East there
had finished its course, but coming to us it may
lead us away from our absorption in the things of
sense and introduce new elements into life and
thought; and we shall teach the East the value
of personality, and the world shall be the dwell-
ing-place of the children of God. From this union
of East and West shall come the higher and bet-
ter humanity and the new world in which abide
peace and truth."

WHY DID JESUS NOT WRITE A GOSPEL?

N THE discussion of the intricate
problems that perplex the New
Testament student, the question has
been raised: Why did not Jesus
Himself write a gospel and in this way au-
thoritatively give a conclusive revelation to
the world? The question has scientific and
historical, as well as popular, interest, and
touches directly on the character of the gospel
and the purposes of Jesus. Some of the few
critics who have given the subject serious
consideration have assumed that Jesus made
no record of His teachings, for the reason that
He really never thought of inaugurating a
permanent religious movement. But a very
different attitude is taken by a German Pro-
fessor, Dr. Haussleiter, of the conservative
theological faculty of the University of Greifs-
wald, in a recent work entitled "The Four
Evangelists."

It is, first of all, a matter that scarcely ad-
mits of doubt or debate, declares Dr. Hauss-
leiter, that Jesus did not want to write a gos-
pel, and that it did not at all belong to the
sphere of His self-manifestation to transmit
His teachings to posterity in written form.
However little we know of the education He
received in the house of His foster-father,
Joseph, the carpenter, in Nazareth, so much
is surely true — He had acquired the art of

reading and writing. This is attested in a
practical way by the gospel records.

It is possible to argue, continues the writer,
that Christ's neglect to put His doctrines into
permanent written form was due to the pre-
vailing expectations of His speedy return
from the grave, which were entertained not
only by the primitive apostolic Christians, but
seem to find a basis in some of His own state-
ments. But this explanation would in the end
prove unsatisfactory, for, in the first place, it
is a matter beyond dispute that the discourses
of the Lord concerning the Return were in-
tended not to settle the time of His coming,
but to urge the disciples on to constant watch-
fulness, in expectation of a sudden advent.
So little stress did He lay on the time of the
Return that He expressly declared that neither
He nor the angels in Heaven knew of the
hour determined by the Father (Matt. 24:
36). Secondly, as a matter of fact, the burn-
ing anxiety of the early Christian congrega-
tions for the speedy return of Christ did not
in the least interfere with the production and
spread of gospel literature which presupposes
a long development for the religious com-
munion which Jesus established.

The real reason why Jesus left behind no
written document is explained by Dr. Hauss-
leiter on quite different grounds, and may

RELIGION AND ETHICS

317

best be conveyed, he avers, by comparing
Christ with Buddha and Mohammed. Budd-
hists and Mohammedans regard it as a matter
of greatest importance that they should know
exactly what was taught by the founders of
their religions. They need a record of those
teachings in the most authentic form, and if
possible in documents written by those found-
ers themselves. In the case of Jesus and
Christianity, a different sentiment exists. It
was not the doctrine of Jesus, however im-
portant, that created the first Christian con-
gregation. This congregation never called it-
self by the name of Jesus. Its faith was rather
based upon what Jesus is, upon the mystery
of His person, which became manifest not
merely in His teachings but more especially
in what He did and performed, and most of
all in His sufferings and death, and in His

resurrection. The divine revelation that the
crucified Jesus was awakened into life by God
and was made both "Lord and Christ" (Acts
2:36), and the faith, in harmony with this
revelation, that Jesus is the Christ and that
the Son of Man is also the Son of God, were
what transformed the disciples of Jesus into
a congregation of believers. This body of
believers and the hosts who have followed in
their footsteps, became the living letter which
Christ had written and still writes. It was in
this sense that Paul called the Corinthian con-
gregation "an epistle of Christ, written not
with ink, but with the Spirit of the living God,
not on tables of stone, but on the fleshy tablets
of the heart" (II Cor. 3 13) . In these words we
find the real reason why Jesus never wrote
and never intended to write a record of His
teachings.

THE RELIGION IN MARKHAM'S POETRY

3OETRY and religion, a modern
writer has observed, are in essence
the same, and differ only in their re-
lation to practical life. "Poetry,"
he says, "is called religion when it intervenes
in life; when it merely supervenes upon life
it is seen to be nothing but poetry." The
statement may appropriately be recalled in
connection with a study of Edwin Markham's
verse contained in a new book* on "Modern
Poets and Christian Teaching," by David G.
Downey. "To Markham," declares Mr.
Downey, "poetry is a vocation, a high and
heavenly calling, the fit expression of the
truth that will not be silent. As Paul cried,
'Woe is me if I preach not the gospel,' so this
man hears the command that pushes him
along his appointed way." The same writer
continues :

"Poetry to him is not only a high and serious
vocation ; it takes on somewhat of the nature of
revelation. He is not more poet than prophet.
Something of the inspiration and authority of the
prophets of truth and righteousness he would
claim, I fancy, for himself. The life-giving quality
of moments of vision, the swift and sure deduc-
tion from some inspirational glimpse into the
heart of things — all this he realizes and holds.
One cannot read 'The Whirlwind Road' without
being reminded of Paul's experience in the third
heaven, where he hears things that could not be
uttered in human speech. So our poet, in mo-
ments of inspiration, and on the Mounts of Vision
sees and feels truths and ideals that at best can

•Modern Poets and Christian Teaching: Richard Wat-
son Gilder, Edwin Markham, Edward Rowland Sill.
By David G. Downey. Eaton & Mains.

only be shadowed forth ^.nd suggested in human
song and speech :

The Muses wrapped in mysteries of light

Came in a rush of music on the night;

And I was lifted wildly on quick wings.

And borne away into the deep of things.

The dead doors of my being broke apart;

A wind of rapture blew across the heart;

The inward song of worlds rang still and clear;

I felt the Mystery the Muses fear;

Yet they went swiftening on the ways untrod.

And hurled me breathless at the feet of God."

The keynote of Markham's gospel is found
by Mr. Downey in his social muse. "He is
the poet of humanity — of man in relations.
Always in his thought is the consciousness
of the social bond that binds, or ought to
bind, men into associations and organizations."
A logical outgrowth of this gospel is his em-
phasis on the dignity and value of the indi-
vidual. "Man is of value to him," says Mr.
Downey, "not because of what he has, nor
yet becaiise of the position he occupies, but
by virtue of what he really is. What sug-
gestions of dignity, what shadowings forth
of infinite privilege and destiny, in this mys-
tical stanza ! —

Out of the deep and endless universe

There came a greater Mystery, a shape,

A something sad, inscrutable, august —

One to confront the worlds and question them.

And with this sense of the natural dignity
of man goes an attitude of passionate sym-
pathy with all who have been prevented from
realizing the sublime potentialities of human-

3i8

CURRENT LITERATURE

ity. It is this mood that has found supreme
expression in 'The Man with the Hoe," and
that is voiced in so many of Markham's So-
cialistic poems. As Mr. Downey puts it:

"One of the characteristic notes of Markham's
song is his sympathy for the burden bearers and
toilers. The men in the field who do the hard,
foundation work that is too often unrecognized
and but purely requited; the women who stitch
and sometimes are stunted and starving in body
and soul by pinching poverty and meager oppor-
tunity—these are ever in his thought. And co-
ordinating with this truth is his vision of selfish
greed, the grinding hand of power and place laid
upon the poor and the lowly; all the hatred, in-
justice, and unbrotherliness of men — sometimes
purposeful and conscious, and at other times sim-
ply the fruitage of an imperfect social and civic
state that makes men its unconscious instruments.
Visions such as these constantly swim in his ken
and move him to champion the cause of the toiler,
\vhile at the same time he reveals the gross injus-
tice and the deep injury done to individuals and
society by the long tolerance of imperfect and
baneful social, civic and industrial ideals. The
outworking of sin in its manifold forms of selfish
indifference, greed, unbrotherliness and injustice
is clearly seen. He knows that behind all the
inequities and iniquities of the social and civic
state is the dark shadow of sin, individual and
social. The joylessness and the hopelessness, the
mute despair of the multitudes are all due to the
inworking principle of sin, whose fruitage is seen
in the varied forms of life and experience. Where
there is no sin labor is in itself a source of joy
and happiness, instead of being, as so often it is
among men, a cause of misery and wretchedness."

In Markham's gospel a true brotherhood
is set forth as the alleviation and cure of all
social ills and sufferings. Most signficantly
he writes :

The crest and crowning of all good.
Life's final star, is Brotherhood;

and makes his "Muse of Brotherhood" say :

I am Religion by her deeper name.

To quote our interpreter again:

"His business as a poet — indeed, the business
of every poet and prophet worthy the name, and
of all earnest and serious thinkers and livers — is
to hasten the era of brotherhood with all its wide
implications and bearings as respects society and
state. He insists that the practical concern of
true religion is to find a material basis for broth-
erhood. The state now has a working form of
selfishness, it must be made to have a working
form of love. There is no peace nor rest till this
great aim be accomplished:
No peace for thee, no peace,
Till blind oppression cease;
Till the stones cry from the walls,
Till the gray injustice falls —
Till strong men come to build in freedom-fate
The pillars of the new Fraternal State. . . .

"Especially is this message addressed to the
new democracy of our time, The Old World and

Old World peoples are too firmly fixed in their
old-time ideas and ways, but here in this new
world where 'the elements of empire are plastic
yet and warm,' here is room for the high and
noble ideals of brotherhood to be proclaimed and
achieved. This is the note that is heard in 'The
Errand Imperious' :
But harken, my America, my own.

Great Mother, with the hill-flower in your hair!
Diviner is that light you bear alone.

That dream that keeps your face forever fair.

Imperious is your errand and sublime,
And that which binds you is Orion's band.

For some large purpose, since the youth of Time,
You were kept hidden in the Lord's right
hand. . . .

Tis yours to bear the World-State in your dream.

To strike down Mammon, and his brazen breed.
To build the Brother-Future, beam on beam;

Yours, mighty one, to shape the Mighty Deed."

And, finally, Markham's gospel of brother-
hood, as Mr. Downey sees it, is rooted in
Christianity. He reminds us of the poet's
line:

I stand by Him, the Hero of the Cross.
And again :

I wear the flower of Christus for a crown.
To quote once more:

"Well he knows that the true coming of the
King and the Kingdom is the incarnation of
Christ's spirit and truth in human hearts and
organizations. It is nothing magical or miracu-
lous, it is the acceptance of Christ's teachings,
and the embodiment of them in personal practice
and in the organic Christian state ; the application
of them to the work of every day by men of good-
will. The Christ-man will one day build the
Christ-state, permeated by the Christ-force, and
a nation will be born in a day. This, after all, is
the secret of his coming. In proportion as these
ideals are realized he comes and the kingdom
grows. To refuse to recognize this is to bar the
way, and to oppose the advance of brotherliness
and social peace. When men truly accept Christ
they become obedient to the heavenly vision, they
see with his eyes, believe with his beliefs, and
walk in his ways. Then will be seen 'the new
Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven,
prepared as a bride adorned for her husband' :
It is a vision waiting and aware ;

And you must draw it down, O men of worth —
Draw down the New Republic held in air,

And make for it foundations on the Earth.

Some breathing of the visionary host
Breaks fitfully along the world's advance ;

A passing glimmer touched New England's coast,
A whisper of its passion came on France.

Saint John beheld it as a great white throne.
Above the ages wondrous and afar;

Mazzini heard it as a bugle blown ;
And Shelley saw it as a steadfast star.

The Lyric Seer beheld it as a feast,
A great white table for the People spread;

And there was knightly joy, with Christ the Priest
And King of Labor sitting at the head."

A MODERN PROPHET

"To Edwin Markham," says a new interpreter, "poetry is a vocation, a high and heavenly calling, the fit expres-
sion of the truth that will not be silent. As Paul cried, 'Woe is m^, if I preach not the gospel,' so this man hear?
the command that pushes him ^long hjs appointed way."

320

CURRENT LITERATURE

CHURCH LOSSES AND GAINS FOR 1906

Jjjy*l^|HE religious statistics compiled by
H. K. Carroll, LL.D., and pub-
lished every January in The Chris-
tian Advocate (New York), show

that the gains in American churches, clergy-
men and communicants during the past year
have been larger than in any year since 1901.
There are now 32,283,658 communicants, 207,-
707 churches and 159,503 ministers in the
United States, and of these 870,389 communi-
cants, 3,635" churches and 4,300 ministers were
added in 1906. Protestant communicants in
this country now total 21,140,203, as compared
with the 11,143,455 communicants of the nine
Catholic bodies. After the Roman Catholic
Church, which is by far the largest single
denomination in the United States, comes the
Methodist Episcopal Church, with 2,894,261
communicants. The total Catholic gains — all
branches — were 125,778; the total Methodist
— all branches — 116,475. It is worth noting
that the Methodists, in spite of their much

smaller proportions, have 2,600 more clergy-
men than the Roman Catholics. The dispar-
ity in number of churches is even more
marked, the Roman Catholic Church having
about 12,200 and the Methodist Episcopal 27,-
600. Methodists of all varieties gained nearly
117,000, while all bodies of Baptists increased
by 93, 1 52. The Presbyterians advanced in num-
ber of communicants 48,006; the Protestant
Episcopal Church, 19,365. The Lutherans
added 116,087 to the number reported for
1905; the Disciples of Christ, 29,464. The
Christian Scientists have made rapid strides,
and report net gains of 9,083 members, 52
churches and 104 ministers. Their total mem-
bership, however, is still reported by Dr. Car-
roll as low as 80,197.

Dr. Carroll's table showing the denomina-
tional families of the United States, the pres-
ent status of their ministers, churches and
communicants, and their growth during 1906,
is subjoined herewith:

DENOMINATIONS

Adventists (6 bodies)

Baptists (14 bodies)

Brethren (River) (3 bodies)

Brethren (Plymouth) (4 bodies)

Buddhist (Chinese)

Buddhist and Shintoist (Japanese)

Catholics (9 bodies)

Catholic Apostolic

Christadelphians

Christian Connection

Christian Catholic (Dowie)

Christian Scientists

Christian Union

Church of God (Winebrennarian)

Church of the New Jerusalem

Communistic Societies (6 bodies)

Con^regationalists

Disciples of Christ ,

Dunkards (4 bodies)

Evangelical (2 bodies)

Friends (4 bodies)

Friends of the Temple

German Evangelical Protestant

German Evangelical Synod

Jews (3 bodies)

Latter-Day Saints (2 bodies)

LuthA-ans (23 bodies)

Swedish Evangelical Mission Covenant.

Mennonites (12 bodies)

Methodists (17 bodies)

Moravians

Presbyterians (12 bodies)

Protestant Episcopal (2 bodies)

Reformed (3 bodies)

Salvation Army

Schwenkfeldians

Social Brethren

Society for Ethical Culture

Spiritualists

1 neosophical Society

United^ Brethren (2 bodies)

Unitarians

Universalists

Independent Congregations

Grand total in 1906

Grand total in 1905

d De<»-ease.

SUMMARY FOR

Ministers Churches

1,566 2,499

38,010 54,566

173 98

314

15,269 12,449

95 10

1,348 1,340

104 110

1,326 663

201 268

499 690

128 139

6,959 5,943

7,153 11,110

3,241 1,100

1,508 2,730

1,466 1,075

4 4
100 155
964 1,227
301 570

1,652 1,328

7,872 13,919

345 351

1,240 701

41,483 60,352

130 119

12,705 15,922

5,258 7,567

2,044 2,563

3,773 983

5 8
17 20

748

2,247 4,351

544 464

720 977

54 156

159,503 207,707

155,203 204,072

1906

Commu-
nicants
95,437
6,140,770
4,239
6,661

11,143,455

1,491

1,277

101,597

40,000

80,197

17,500

41,475

8,084

3,084

694,923

1,264,758

121,194

179,339

118,752

340

20,000

228,420

143,000

396,354

1,957,433

46,000

61,690

6,551,891

16,923

1,771,877

846,492

422,359

28,500

731

913

1,700

295,000

2,607

286,238

71,000

55,831

14,126

NET GAINS FOR 1906

Ministers Churches nicants

528 '287 93',i52

16 13 dlOO

9 ....'.

677 518 259,548

'.'.'.'. '.'.'.'. '.'.'.'.'/.

ioi 52 9,083

201 268 17,500

24 1,975

dS dl 17

"26 "i2 10,601

678 77 29,464
75 d38 4,883
57 82 12,361
64 cfl,663

"92
287
54
29
1,166
d2
65
49
74

62
d3

dio

546

d65

1,269

220

343

d56

32,283,658

4,300 3,635

6,417

6*2,107

116,087

12,600

642

116,475

341

48,006

19,365

17,337

131

200
29,500

<;56
12,226

2,190

870,389

31,413,269

2,628 4,100

783,979

RELIGION AND ETHICS

32T

The following table shows the order of
denominationar families now and in 1890:

COMMUNI-

CANTS

1890

CANTS

11,143,455

6,257,871

6,551,891

4,689,284

5,140,770

3,717,969

1,957,433

1,231,072

1,771,877

1,278,362

846,492

640,509

422,359

309,458

396,354

166,125

286,238

225,281

179,339

133,313

143,000

130,406

121,194

73,795

118,752

107,208

95,437

60,491

61,690

41,541

DENOMINATIONAL ^'^Z^

FAMILIES „ ,

1900

Catholic 1

Methodist 2

Baptist 3

Lutheran 4

Presbyterian 6

Episcopal 6

Reformed 7

Latter-Day Saints . . 8

United Brethren 9

Evangelical 10

Jewish 11

Dunkards 12

Friends 13

Adventists 14

Mennonites 15

A large number of the religious papers re-
print these figures, and one or two add com-
ment of their own. The Chicago Interior
(Presbyterian) calls attention to the fact that
"the strictly evangelical churches are the only
ones making much headway." It goes on to
say:

"The Unitarian churches report, as they have
for some years, a continued decrease in the num-
ber of their ministers. Their communicants are
not numbered at all. The Universalists have
fewer ministers than a year ago, but an increase

of 3.08 per cent, in membership. The Dowieites
are given last year's figures, having been too
much occupied this year with holding their fort
to have time for calling the muster roll. The
Christian Scientists claim a growth of 9,083 mem-
bers, making a total of 80,187; a great way short
of the 'million' credited to them by the fearful.
To make up even this figure they seem to count
a large proportion of their membership twice,
once where resident and again in the 'Mother
Church' at Boston. Some of Mrs. Eddy's journals
report 40,000 in the Boston organization. This
leaves one-half the total to the rest of the
country."

The Christian Work and Evangelist (New
York) is impressed by "the progress all along
the line." It comments:

"While this progress continues it furnishes its
own best evidence of the vitality of religion
against the cavillings of those who are out of
sympathy with the churches and with the world
of Spirit also. We add that the statistics show
a body of communicants numbering very nearly
thirty millions of people out of a total population
of 80,000,000. This shows that we are very far
from being a 'godless' nation, as some assert, who
would like nothing better than to introduce
sectarian teaching in our public schools. The
record is one of which the religious people of the
country have neither cause for fear nor shame :
on the contrary, it is cause for gratitude for the
past and hope for the future."

ARE WE STANDING AT THE BIRTH OF A GREAT

RELIGION?

[JS IT insanity," asks Mark Twain, in
a startling book,* just published,
"to believe that Christian Scientism
is destined to make the most for-
midable show that any new religion has made
in the world since the birth and spread of
Mohammedanism, and that within a century
from now it may stand second to none only
in numbers and power in Christendom?"

The question thus formulated by our vet-
eran humorist^who, for once, seems to be
in earnest — is occupying many other minds
than his own. Christian Science has never
been so widely studied and discussed as at
the present time. The curiosity aroused
throughout the country by the sensational and
— as it proved — fictitious stories printed in
the New York World regarding Mrs. Eddy's
physical condition (see Current Litera-
ture, December) seems to have deepened into
a really serious interest in her teaching and
her cult. The Christian Science Publication

•Christian Science. By Mark Twain. Harper & Brothers.

Committee of Boston has issued a bulletin
giving over fifty expressions of editorial
opinions, from all parts of the United States,
on the World episode. These editorials are
uniformly friendly to Mrs. Eddy and to
Christian Science. The New York Inde-
pendent has lately evoked considerable atten-
tion and not a little hostile comment by pub-
lishing an editorial appreciation of many of
the features of Christian Science, in connec-
tion with an article from Mrs. Eddy's own
pen. The tenor of this editorial may be
gathered from the following extract:

"Philosophers are divided between Monists and
Dualists, giving us three great schools, one
those who recognize both mind and matter as
substantial ; those who recognize matter only as
existent, and are so Materidists; and those who
hold that the only real existence is mind, and
that all matter with its phenomena are forms of
thought, and who are therefore Idealists. The
votaries of Christian Science approach this form
of thought in their philosophy, and at least are
quite as legitimate in their doctrine as the popular
Materialism which allows the existence only of

322

CURRENT LITERATURE

A NOTABLE CONVERT TO CHRISTIAN
SCIENCE

Mr. Charles Klein, the playwright, has lately ac-
knowledged his debt to Cnristian Science in these
words: "When I think of what Christian Science has
done for me, and that it is through Mrs. Eddy we
have received this truth, I feel that her great work
for mankind is underrated, rather than overrated,
even by Christian Scientists themselves. I know that
I have not yet sufficient understanding either to realize
or appreciate its greatness."

matter, and so denies both the immortahty and
the existence of the soul.

"Holding these views in philosophy and re-
ligion, and representing unblemished moral and
Christian character, it is to their credit that, dur-
ing her lifetime, they honor their teacher, Mrs.
Eddy. Just as, after their death, other Christian
bodies venerate Loyola and Luther, Calvin and
Aquinas, Saint Francis and John Wesley, so the
person and writings of Mrs. Eddy are almost,
but not quite, sacred in the eyes of her disciples.
They honor her while she lives; and it pleases
them that, under the system she has taught, her
life is lengthened out to an extreme old age.
Such respect for their great teacher is a beautiful
impulse and deserves honor."

Magazines are everyv^here taking up
phases of the new cult. In The Cosmopoli-
tan, the playwright, Charles Klein, tells us
how he became a Christian Scientist; in The
World To-day the novelist, Clara Louise
Burnham, defends Mrs. Eddy against the as-
persions that have been cast upon her char-
acter. Mr. B. O. Flower, the editor of The
Arena, devotes a long article to the "Reck-
less and Irresponsible Attacks on Christian
Science." And McClure's continues to act
as the historian of the movement.

Any one can start a new religion in this
country, as the Springfield Republican points
out; but the moment it begins to succeed, it
must expect to pass through the blazing fires
of our modern publicity. The same paper
goes on to say:

"If Mohammedanism had been started in an age
and -a country which were blessed with hourly
street editions, and illustrated magazines by the
bushel in every family, there might never have
been enough of Mahomet in history to reach ten
miles outside of his native city. If Christianity
even, and Judaism before it, had at the start been
watched over by the vigilant McClure's, the
modern world would probably have had no con-
troversies over the higher criticism. The facts
would have been irrefutably established at the
outset. It may be the misfortune of the new
religions of our day that they have to undergo
the trial, and possibly the torture, of a higher
criticism almost as soon as they are born. At
any rate, that is what Christian Science is under-
going, and in so far as this scrutiny is fair, even
if it be merciless, its believers should be willing
to tolerate it and accept whatever contribution
it may make to the corpus of truth."

Viewed from this angle, every atom of evi-
dence bearing on the origins of Christian
Science is to be welcomed. The article in the
February McClure's, written by Georgine
Milmine, covers the years 1862-64, during

THE REAL MRS. EDDY
A portrait taken in 1887 by H. G. Smith, of Bos-
ton, and reproduced for the first time in a recent issue
of The Cosmopolitan. The full-page portrait pub-
lished in our December issue, by courtesy of McClure's
Magazine, is now generally conceded to have been a
picture of Mrs. Sarah C. Chevaillier, of Texas.

RELIGION AND ETHICS

323

which Mrs. Eddy, at that time Mrs. Daniel
Patterson, may be said to have first become
conscious of her religious mission. She was
forty years old, was a confirmed invalid, and
for six or seven years had been practically
confined to her bed with spinal complaint.
While in this helpless condition news reached
her of the wonderful "cures" of one Phineas
Parkhurst Quimby, of Portland, Me. She
was living in New Hampshire, in straitened
circumstances, but determined, at all costs,
to reach Quimby. Her husband had been
imprisoned during the war, and she was
financially dependent on her sister. But at
last she was able to save enough money to
make the journey to Portland. As a result,
she was thrown into intimate contact with a
man of extraordinary power and vitality,
who Succeeded in curing her, temporarily at
least, and who influenced profoundly her
whole character and intellectual life. P. P.
Quimby, so we learn from McClure's, was
"Doctor" only by courtesy; he had taken no
university degree and had studied in no reg-
ular school of medicine. By the educated pub-
lic he was regarded as an amiable humbug
or a fanatic, but hundreds of his patients
looked upon him as a worker of miracles. He

MRS. EDDY IN 1864
This portrait shows Mrs. _ Eddy at the time she was

PHINEAS PARKHURST QUIMBY
The mental healer of Portland, Me., who
said to have first inspired Mrs. Eddy with
sciousness of her religious mission.

may be
a con-

being treated by P. P.
Daniel Patterson.

Quimby. She was then Mrs.

was "at first a mesmerist, but later confined
himself to mental healing. As Miss Milmine
describes him, "his personality inspired love
and confidence. He radiated sympathy and
earnestness. Patients who saw him for a
moment even now affectionately recall his
kind-heartedness, his benevolence, his keen
perception." His method was simplicity it-
self:

"The medical profession constantly harped on
the idea of sickness; Quimby constantly harped
on the idea of health. The doctor told the patient
that disease was inevitable, man's natural inheri-
tance; Quimby told him that disease was merely
an 'error,' that it was created, 'not by God, but
by man,' and that health was the true and scien-
tific state. 'The idea that a beneficent God had
anything to do with disease,' said Quimby, 'is
superstition.' 'Disease,' reads another of his
manuscripts, 'is false reasoning. True scientific
wisdom is health and happiness. False reasoning
is sickness and death.' ' /\sain he says : 'This is
my theory : to put man in possession of a science
that will destroy the ideas of the sick, and teach
man one living profession of his own identity,
with life free from error and disease. As man
passes through these combinations, they differ one
from another. . . . He is dying and living all
the time to error, till he dies the death of all his
opinions and beliefs. Therefore, to be free from
death is to be alive in truth; for sin, or error, is
death, and science, or wisdom, is eternal life, and

324

CURRENT LITERATURE

this is the Christ.' 'My philosophy,' he says at
another time, 'will make him free and independ-
ent of all creeds and laws of men, and subject
him to his own agreement, he being free from the
laws of sin, sickness, and death.' "

Quimby talked constantly of his theories to
all who would hear him. He found in Mrs.
Eddy a most receptive listener. About 1859
he began to put his ideas into written form.
Mrs. Eddy had access to all his manuscripts.
In 1866 he died. How far he influenced Mrs.
Eddy, and how much of his thought is incor-
porated in "Science and Health," are matters
for speculation. It is certain, however, that
Mrs. Eddy for a while gave all her time and
strength to the study of his esoteric philos-
ophy. "It seemed to satisfy some inherent crav-
ing of her nature," says Miss Milmine, and
offered "a purpose, perhaps an ambition — the
only definite one she had ever known. She
was groping for a vocation. She must even
then have seen before her new possibilities;
an opportunity for personal growth and per-
sonal achievement very different from the
petty occupations of her old life."

Mark Twain in his new book considers at
length the whole question of the authorship
of "Science and Health," and asks specifi-
cally: Did Mrs. Eddy borrow from Quimby
the "Great Idea" which lies at the core of her
teaching? We cannot know, he answers,
since there is apparently no way to prove that
she used or carried away the Quimby manu-
scripts. The important matter, after all, is
the Idea itself — an Idea that has created a
religion and that may be briefly expressed as
follows: The power to heal diseases with a
word, with a touch of the hand, which was
given by Christ to the disciples and to all the
converted, is still operative in the world.

The past teaches us, says Mark Twain,
that, in order to succeed, a religion must not
claim entire originality; it must content itself
with passing for an improvement on an exist-
ing religion, and show its hand later, when
strong and prosperous — like Mohammedan-
ism. In its early stages, Mark Twain reminds
us, Mohammedanism had no money; and "it
has never had anything to offer its client but
heaven — nothing here below that was valu-
able." But Christian Science offers, in addi-
tion to heaven hereafter, present health and
a cheerful spirit. "In comparison with this
bribe, all other this-world bribes are, poor and
cheap." Mark Twain continues the argu-
ment:

"To whom does Bellamy's 'Nationalism' appeal?
Necessarily to the few: people who read and

dream, and are compassionate, and troubled for
the poor and hard-driven. To whom does Spirit-
ualism appeal ? Necessarily to the few ; its 'boom'
has lasted for half a century, and I believe it
claims short of four millions of adherents in
America. Who are attracted by Swedenborgian-
ism and some of the other fine and delicate
'isms' ? The few again : educated people, sensi-
tively organized, with superior mental endow-
ments, who seek lofty planes of thought and find
their contentment there.

"And who are attracted by Christian Science?
There is no limit; its field is horizonless; its ap-
peal is as universal as is the appeal of Christianity
itself. It appeals to the rich, the poor, the high,
the low, the cultured, the ignorant, the gifted, the
stupid, the modest, the vain, the wise, the silly,
the soldier, the civilian, the hero, the coward, the
idler, the worker, the godly, the godless, the free-
man, the slave, the adult, the child; they who are
ailing in body or mind, they who have friends
that are ailing in body or mind. To mass it in a
phrase, its clientage is the Human Race. ^Will it
march? I think so.

"Remember its principal great offer: to rid the
race of pain and disease. Can it do so? In
large measure, yes. How much of the pain -and
disease in the world is created by the imagina-
tions of the sufferers, and then kept alive by those
same imaginations? Four-fifths? Not anything
short of that, I should think. Can Christian
Science banish that four-fifths? I think so. Can
any other (organized) force do it? None that I
know of. Would this be a new world when that
was accomplished? And a pleasanter one — for us
well people, as well as for those fussy and fretting
sick ones? Would it seem as if there was not as
much gloomy weather as there used to be? I
think so."

Mark Twain goes on to register his con-
viction that Mrs. Eddy is "in several ways
the most interesting woman that ever lived,
and the most extraordinary." He adds:

"She started from nothing. Her enemies
charge that she surreptitiously took from Quimby
a peculiar system of healing which was mind-cure
with a Biblical basis. She and her friends deny
that she took anything from him. Whether she
took it or invented it, it was — materially — a saw-
dust mine when she got it, and she has turned it
into a Klondike; its spiritual dock had next to no
custom, if any at all : from it she has launched a
world-religion which has now six hundred and
sixty-three churches, and she charters a new one
every four days. When we do not know a person
— and also when we do — we have to judge his size
by the size and nature of his achievements, as
compared with the achievements of others in his
special line of business — there is no other way.
Measured by this standard, it is thirteen hundred
years since the world has produced any one who
could reach up to Mrs. Eddy's waistbelt.

"Figuratively speaking, Mrs. Eddy is already as
tall as the Eiffel tower. She is adding surprisingly
to her stature every day. It is quite within the
probabilities that a century hence she will be the
most imposing figure that has cast its shadow
across the globe since the inauguration of our
era.

RELIGION AND ETHICS

325

SUBSTITUTES OFFERED FOR CHRISTIANITY

HE religious unrest of our times
finds nowhere more marked expres-
sion than in that growing literature
which deals with proposed "substi-
tutes" for Christianity. In Germany particu-
larly, the press teems with works which pro-
ceed from the viewpoint that Christianity has
outlived its usefulness and must give place to
something better. The way has been paved
for this class of literature by such works as
the "Religious-geschichtliche Volksbiicher," a
series of radical brochures edited by Schiele,
of Marburg, which propose to carry into pew
and pulpit the advanced views of Bousset,
Wrede and other protagonists of the newest
school of critical theology.

One of the most notable arguments in be-
half of a substitute for Christianity has been
made by an ex-Roman Catholic chaplain and
professor of religious instruction in an Aus-
trian Catholic gymnasium. Dr. Fr. Mach,
whose book, "The Crisis in Christianity and
the Religion of the Future" takes the ground
that the confessional churches of the day are
ulcerous sores upon modern society, and that
the teachings of all the great churches, Roman
Catholic and Protestant, must be discarded
because they are in fatal conflict with the
results of the scientific research of the day.
The religion of the future he conceives
as "pure Christianity with the spirit of
Jesus and of the gospel," but as en-
tirely "undogmatic," consisting chiefly of the
recognized moral teachings of all the leading
religions.

Even more radical in tone is a work by O.
Michel, a former military officer, entitled
"Forward to Christ — Away with Paul —
German Religion!" He declares Paul to
have been the "antichrist," in the sense
that Paul perverted the original Christianity
of the Founder of the Church. What is
needed now, he says, is the restoration of this
original Christianity, but in a manner adapted
to German ideals and tastes. He also pro-
poses a religion committed to no creed and
consisting only of moral teachings of a gen-
eral, not of a New Testament, nature.

An interesting sidelight is thrown on this
whole subject by an investigation recently
undertaken by a Bremen teacher, Fritz Ganz,
who has published the results of his inquiry
in a book entitled "Religious Instruction." He
addressed a circular letter to scores of leading
representatives of advanced thought through-

out Germany and beyond its borders, and
asked: What religion should be taught to the
children in place of the traditional catechism
and Bible history? He received more than
eighty replies. One correspondent declares
that "patriotism is the highest religion;" an-
other specifies "the love for the beautiful and
the human;" a third, "the systematic concep-
tion of what is taught by good common
sense;" a fifth, a "Christian preacher," states
that religion consists in the ability to "keep
holy" (feiern), to "have premonitions" (ah-
nen) ; a sixth, that it is "reverence for mother
nature;" a seventh asserts that "religion be-
gins where revelation ends;" an eighth that
"all true thought and action are religion"; a
ninth, that "religion ends where confessional
differences begin." Several men of recog-
nized standing in the learned world contribute
to the discussion. Dahlke recommends that
Lessing's "Nathan- der Weise" be studied in-
stead of the Bible; Haeckel, the head of the
"Monistenbund," the organization of the ultra
radicals in Germany, proposes Wilhelm Bol-
sche's writings, and those of Carus Sterne
and others; H. Litzt suggests fables and folk-
lore of all kinds; the litterateur Lindenthal
favors Rosegger's works and Cooper's "Last
of the Mohicans"; the great Jewish writer,
Max Nordau, suggests, among other books,
"Don Quixote," and A. Phothow mentions
Andersen's fables and Emerson's essays. In
addition, A. Dodel speaks of Marcus Aure-
lius's "Meditations;" Hartwich wants the Ed-
das to be used ; one writer, A. Kerz, even sug-
gests portions of the Koran.

Dr. Dennert, a brilliant defender of Biblical
teachings, subjects these replies to a critical
analysis, in his new journal Glauben tind
Wissen, and comes to the conclusion that they
prove a testimonium paupertatis, so far as
radical thought is concerned. The radicals,
he avers, can only tear down. They build
nothing positive in the place of the ruins they
cause. In the light of the history of Christian
apologetics, he continues, there need be no
fear as to the outcome of the whole contro-
versy. The particle of truth which may un-
derlie the whole agitation will doubtless be-
come a permanent possession of religious
thought; but the extravagant "substitutes,"
he says, will only pave the way for a still
higher conception and still stronger defense
of the fundamental truths of historic Chris-
tianity.

Science and Discovery

THE POLTOPHAGIC REVOLT AGAINST THE PSOMO-
PHAGIC CURSE OF THE AGE

OME years ago Mr. Horace
Fletcher, an American gentleman,
3 found himself at that stage of life
^ where, after hard work in all quar-
ters of the globe, he was in a position to re-
tire from active business and devote himself
to enjoyment. He had occasion to make an
application for life insurance and was refused.
His symptoms were obesity, shortness of
breath, dyspepsia, loss of elasticity — in short,
all those troubles that we are accustomed to
associate with the failing health of so-called
advancing age, but which would more accu-
rately be referred to as advancing death. He
consulted medical men both in Europe and in
the United States, but in vain. He then de-
cided to undertake his own regeneration.

He happened at this time to be occupied
with some business which necessitated a good
deal of tedious waiting in Chicago in mid-
summer when most of his acquaintances were
absent from the city. To help spin out the
day he used to get through his meals as slow-
ly and as deliberately as he could. He no-
ticed a very curious effect from this. Hunger
was less frequent. He ate less. His weight
decreased. His health decidedly improved.
He then and there made up his mind to ex-
periment in this direction, with the result that
in course of time he entirely recovered his
health. He then tried to get an explanation
from experts, but obtained none.

Mr. Fletcher now tried the insurance
offices again. Tho he had to contend against
the former unfavorable verdict, they said they
would gladly take him at ordinary rates.

In the attempts that Mr. Fletcher made to
obtain a hearing for his discovery he found
his greatest difficulty with the skepticism of
the medical profession. His first convert was
Dr. Van Someren, the eminent Vienna spe-
cialist, who not only listened to what Mr.
Fletcher had to say, but has continued to give
his time and energies to studying and spread-
ing "Fletcherism." Dr. Van Someren read a
paper at the meeting of the British Medical
Association in 1901. Here he attracted the
attention of Professor Sir Michael Foster.
The matter was brought forward subsequent-

ly at the International Medical Congress at
Turin. Sir Michael Foster next showed his
interest by inviting Mr. Fletcher and Dr.
Van Someren to Cambridge, so that their
claims could receive scientific investigation.

So far we have followed closely an ac-
count of Fletcherism given by Dr. Hubert
Higgins, demonstrator of anatomy at the Uni-
versity of Cambridge, and an eminent sur-
geon to boot, in the course of a work on what
is styled humaniculture.* The facts set forth,
says Dr. Higgins, were destined to be the
starting point for a new era. They have
effected a revolution so far reaching that we
are scarcely likely to exaggerate its impor-
tance. To appreciate this, let it be borne in
mind that Mr. Fletcher had a considerable
bogy to fight in the shape of the Voit stand-
ard of nitrogen nutrition. He was told that
in order to find acceptance of his ideas it
was first of all necessary to prove that his
own new standard of economy was more
nearly the optimum, and that the famous Voit
standard was wrong. It was obviously true
that he and his colleague presented curious
and unusual phenomena in the small amount
they ate. It was suggested that perhaps if
they went on long enough there might be one
of those lingering but inevitable calls to the
beyond in store for them. Mr. Fletcher
bravely lived in a laboratory for several
months until every vestige of doubt in
Fletcherism had vanished from the minds of
the skeptical scientists under whose observa-
tion he came throughout the whole period.

Mr. Fletcher had the additional good for-
tune to find another practical sympathizer in
Professor Bowditch, of the Harvard Univer-
sity Medical School, who introduced him to
Professor Chittenden at Yale, who was not
only the director of the Sheffield Scientific
School and President of the American
Physiological Society, but is one of the most
eminent of physiological chemists. Here he
was also especially fortunate because he
found in Dr. William G. Anderson, director
of the Yale University Gymnasium, a man

•Humaniculture. By Hubert Higgins. F. A. Stokes
Company.

Courtesy of The American Magazine

THE MOST ILLUSTRIOUS OF LIVING POLTOPHAGISTS
Horace Fletcher, founder of the movement known as Fletcherism, has faced every form of discouragement in
his crusade for a more thoro mastication of food through slower working of the jaw during the process of eating
meals. The task involved an attempt to overthrow the so-called Voit standard of human regimen. Mr. Fletcher set
to work and by his persistence in dieting himself in scientific laboratories under expert observation, he vindicated his;
theory and convinced scientists of the greatest distinction that the dietetic ideas upon which the Voit standard is
based will have to be revised.

328

CURRENT LITERATURE

who was a human physiologist in more than
name. Dr. Anderson not only studied under-
graduates, but was able to make experiments
with them, as he was their trainer in athletic
exercises. Dr. Anderson was able to render
Mr. Fletcher exceptional service by setting
down in black and white that his claims to
the possession of far more than average fit-
ness physically were actually and measurably
true. It was largely due to this examination
of Mr. Fletcher as to his measurable strength
and endurance by Dr. Anderson that deter-
mined Professor Chittenden to undertake the
famous inquiry that resulted in his report,
which showed men able to work better, play
better and have better health, not on the Voit
standard, but on half or one-third of the
amount of nitrogen the text-books prescribe
as essential. We quote from Dr. Higgins:

"At first sight it may be thought that there is
little opportunity for novel views in the knowl-
edge of the process of mastication. It is profit-
able to recollect, however, as Mr. Fletcher has
pointed out, that the three inches of the alimen-
tary region from the lips to the soft palate are
the onlyrpart of the thirty feet of the intestinal
canal where there are discriminating apparatus
and functions that are in any way under the con-
trol of the'wiU,

"Pavlov has recently shown us that there are
a number of nervous impulses that originate in
the mouth, when the masticating and insalivating
processes are- properly carried out, that control the
subsequent digestive processes. So that not only
the qualitl but the quantity, as well as the physi-
cal condition, of the ingested food depend on the
occurrences in the mouth.

"In the writings of the famous German anato-
mist a statement was made that passed unnoticed
by both anatomists and physiologists till Mr.
Fletcher stirred up our interest in the subject.
In Gegenbaur's anatomy is found the following:
The bifurcation of the alimentary canal below the
soft palate does not depend only on its relation
with the epiglottis, but also on the condition of
the food. The exclusive use of this means of
swallowing is only possible with finely divided
food. ... I have always called this way of
taking food poltophagy (poltos meaning masti-
cated, finely divided) and the other psomophagy
(psomos meaning biting, tearing).' This most
important observation was one that Gegenbaur
recommended should be most carefully investi-
gated."

To appreciate thoroly what follows,^ it is
necessary to realize the significance of the law
of atrophy and hypertrophy.

Atrophy of muscle means that, from want
of use, the substance wastes and the muscle
ultimately becomes useless. This phenomenon
is well illustrated in the case of those Indian
fakirs who hold their arms above their heads
till the joints are fixed and the muscles are
permanently wasted.

Hypertrophy means unusual development
from unusual work, as, for instance, in the
oft-cited case of blacksmiths with their well-
developed arms, shoulders and chests. In
anatomy it is found that one can look on
muscles as a crystallization of function.
That is to say, that their presence alone im-
plies that they are used, and as they are used
they are wanted by the animal. Another
thing that anatorrfy teaches is that there is
nothing superfluous in the body, and so con-
sequently the structures that are functioned I
in so vitally important a region as the mouth, -
it is needless to say, merit our most respect-
ful consideration:

"If one examines the soft palate of a dog, it is
seen to be thin, even translucent. In its center
are found merely three or four muscular fibers
instead of a muscle. These fibers are too scanty
and scattered to aid, to any but an insignificant
extent, the elevation of the soft palate. The epi-
glottis is a cartilaginous body found over the
larynx and attached to the base of the tongue.
In the dog the epiglottis is very small and applied
closely to the tongue. The food is swallowed
over the top of the epiglottis instead of by its
•sides. The translucent soft palate and the small
and insignificant epiglottis are evidence that
neither of them serves any very important pur-
pose to the dog.

"When, on the other hand, a horse is examined,
one finds an entirely different state of affairs.
There is a long, muscular soft palate as long as
the hard bony palate. The epiglottis, which is,
relatively speaking, enormous, stands up so as to
divide the opening into the esophagus into two.
Each of these openings in the relatively large
horse is no larger than the single opening in a
small dog. In the case of the horse, then, one
finds that the masticated and insalivated food is
divided into two currents passing down either side
of the epiglottis. The openings are so small and
valve-like that a horse is actually unable to
breathe through its mouth.

"The differences between the horse and the dog
in this respect then are that the horse is obliged to
masticate and is therefore poltophagic; and the
dog swallows his food in large pieces and is there-
fore psomophagic. In other words, he has not
efficient machinery for mastication, but he has
good apparatus for tearing.

"When the principles of atrophy and hyper-
trophy are borne in mind in these instances, it be-
comes of great interest to observe the state of
affairs in man."

In the case of man. Dr. Higgins goes on
to repeat, there is a full development of the
muscles of the soft palate. They are so fully
developed as to explain why one central
factor in Fletcherism — the consumption of a
small quantity of food very slowly after thoro
mastication — is from its sheer simplicity a
revolutionary idea in application. The no-
tion that food should be slowly chewed is old,
but Fletcherism makes a very novel thing of
it. To follow Dr. Higgins's text again:

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

329

"I will describe the ingestion of a piece of cur-
rant cake, as it best illustrates the phenomena of
mastication. During mastication there is a com-
plex series of co-ordinated, unconscious and au-
tomatic contractions of the muscles of the cheeks,
the lips the jaws, the tongue and the soft palate,
excited by afferent and efferent impulses. As the
starch is transformed into dextrose it is dissolved
by the saliva. If it was allowed to remain in the
anterior buccal cavity [in the cheeks] it would
inhibit the further action of the ptyalin [ferment
contained in the saliva]. This is prevented by the
action of the tongue and soft palate, alternately
producing positive and negative pressures in the
closed mouth. From time to time samples of the
fluid contents of the anterior buccal cavity are
withdrawn into the buccal passage (its further
progress may possibly be arrested by the pressure
of the tongue against the hard palate if it is not
acceptable to the end organs in the neighborhoods
of the circumvallate papillae*) where it passes on
to the posterior buccal cavity. When sufficient
has collected, a swallowing impulse is excited.
It is presumed that the tongue is pressed upwards

•Papilla, the Latin word for nipple, is applied to one
of those numerous projections which cover the tongue
and project from its surface. The circumvallate papillae
are about ten.

against the hard palate so as to form a point of
support for the contraction of the soft palate, to
close the posterior buccal cavity and to help in the
expulsion of its contents. The region at the root
of the tongue in contracting makes the laryngeal
furrows more vertical. The fluid contents are
then forced out into the pharynx [throat], the
buccal cavity is reclosed and the material is col-
lected for the next poltophagic deglutition. When
the process of mastication and deglutition is com-
pleted there is nothing left but some almost dry
currant skins and stones. Even these may possi-
bly be disposed of if the teeth are good enough to
divide them finely."

The moral is that man should make him-
self as poltophagic as possible. Many men
and women are poltophagists to a varying de-
gree without being aware of it. They may
only notice that they eat more slowly than
other people. However, an entirely psomo-
phagic man has never been met with. But
the curse of our country is the psomophagic
tendency of the age. The poltophagic protest
is Fletcherism.

READING THE HUMAN COUNTENANCE

IfANY professional and business men,
and more especially those who
superintend the labors of large
numbers of employees, suffer loss

from their inability to judge

accurately the capacity and

character of those with whom

they are brought into contact.

It is seldom realized that one

of the rarest forms of human

ability is what Talleyrand

termed "ability to estimate abil-
ity in others." In our country

the mere money loss entailed by

placing incapable men in posi-
tions of supreme responsibility

is incalculable. An eminent

British administrator has said

that ninety per cent, of men of

a high order of ability, when

placed in positions of supreme

responsibility, fail utterly. If,

then, there be such a thing as a

science of character-reading

and a science of capacity-read-
ing, it must be still very little

understood notwithstanding the

various learned works now in

print on the subject.

However, a serious attempt

to place this branch of knowl-

DETAILS IN NASAL
EXPRESSION
The nose, relatively, should be
long rather than short if the
character be adequately balanced
in point of aggressiveness and
reason. The ancient Greeks
very scientifically gave long noses
to their statues of Minerva.

edge upon a solid basis has been made
by James G. Matthews, who has spent
nearly a generation in detailed study of
the human countenance as an index to
ability and character.* "That
so useful and simple an ac-
complishment is untaught and
almost unstudied," he says, "is
to be regretted." No branch of
human knowledge could be
more useful in the choice of
friends or of a wife. The busi-
ness and the professional man
may pay for a mistake of this
sort by the failure of an im-
portant enterprise. Instead,
however, of studying this
branch of science methodically,
we all learn it as we can or not
at all. Hence we are deceived
in some. We fail to impress
others as we would.

"Every living face is a bulletin-
board of thought, molded first by
the inherited character, and there-
after by the thoughts and passions
that most often move that face to
expression. As a thought of
shame enlarges the capillaries in
the face, producing the blush; as

Ac^ui'si'tivenmss.

*A Souvenir of Human Nature. The
Onalochens, Publishers, Dayton, Ohio,

330

CURRENT LITERATURE

a thought of fear raises the upper lip, or a thought
of amatory love puffs up the lower eyelid, so do
thoughts of hatred, anger, devotion, destructive-
ness, courage, wisdom, generosity, and selfishness
each develop or contract certain muscles in the
face. The muscles thus affected by the most fre-
quently recurring thoughts become shrunken or
over-developed as the case may be."

Inexperienced students of the human coun-
tenance may, on noting the most striking pe-
culiarity of a face, estimate the entire char-
acter in the. light of this one characteristic.
This should never be done. Over-develop-
ment of one "trait-sign" will make other signs
in the same face seem under-developed or
vice versa. Never, therefore, says our au-
thority, compare one sign with others in the
same countenance. Estimate each sign at its
own value by comparison with the same sign

i> \ /a >

* 1 / /

\ * / '

' ; / ^

1 J / /

' 7 /

/ ^

/ '

' /; ^.

\ 1 *XOS:\>^

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/ ' 1

/ 1

f ' 1

^\ »

1 '

f !

/ /

r^ »■ ^

/ /

t' /

*, \

1 ^ V

Ns^ ^^-^

k\\^

WHY NO MAN SHOULD MARRY THE GIBSON
GIRL

Here is a physiognomical analysis of one of the types
most pictured in illustrative art. The details should be
very carefully studied, as they afford a striking speci-
men of the kind of female no man should pick out for
a wife. Note the line C — C, it is tilted too low rela-
tively to indicate generosity, while the line B — B indi-
cates cold calculation in dealings with a man. The
line A — A does not intersect the line D — D until the
tip of the_ chin is reached. This is one of the few good
features in the analysis, pointing to tactfulness — per-
haps too much tactfulness.

• 1 '

<i r

.1 """

THE NORMAL PROFILE

The lettered lines indicate the
details in a human countenance
that possess significance, al-
though the precise significance
of each is not definitely decided.

in a normal
countenance. The
normal counte-
nance is the thing
to keep in mind
when reading
faces. To quote
further :

"Also, since one
over- developed
trait-sign may be
counteracted in its
indications of
character by other
under - developed
trait-signs, do not
estimate the whole
character by one
sign alone.

"It is best not
to try to learn the
location of the
trait-signs all at
once, — look at
. . . facial
angles when you
wish a moment's
diversion, and all
unconsciously you
will begin observ-
ing, with a new interest, the faces seen in passing,
and will come to possess an accomplishment that
will be an ever-ready avenue to interesting and
profitable self- amusement ; a constant source of
satisfaction ; and by enabling you to more favora-
bly impress others by doing and saying the right
thing at the right time and in the right place, may
help you to a position in the esteem of your friends
that comes only to those who can read the motives
and desires that actuate others. After a few days'
observation of facial angles, lips, and lip positions,
you will be interested — even fascinated by the sub-
ject in which every young person should receive
instruction before mating, and about which any
one cannot know too much."

The most telltale indication of character
and of aptitude in the whole countenance is
the eye and its hue. Heredity, says our ob-
server, is written in the color of the eye. He
is confident, after many years of first-hand
observation, and after much perusal of the
works of those scientists who have attended
to this subject, that very dark brown or black
eyes denote an impetuous temperament, capa-
ble of great extremes of feeling, likes and dis-
likes, and the most passionate ardor in ro-
mantic love. Dark brown eyes denote those
traits in a less intense degree, the tempera-
ment becoming more placid as the brown
grows lighter.

An affectionate disposition, sweet and
gentle, accompanies the russet brown eye
which is not yellowish. Yellowish brown
eyes denote an inconstant, sallow disposition,
with little will power and a tendency to las-

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

331

civiousness. But the ideal of sublime purity
of the afifections is found to accompany eyes
of violet or darkest blue — "eyes as rare as
they are heavenly." Those who have not
such eyes may take pleasure in the observa-
tion that not much intellectuality accompanies
them. Clear eyes of lighter blue, calm and
tranquil, bespeak a cheerful, constant nature,
with intellectual powers and the passions well
balanced. Gray denotes intellectuality always
and everywhere. Furthermore:

"Pale blue denotes coldness and selfishness, with
more intellectuality.

"Blue eyes with greenish tints accompany a
predorninance of the intellectual powers over the
passions — a nature ruled by wis3om and sustained
by great moral courage, which may attain high
positions.

"Greenish gray eyes are the most intellectual ;
and if in them may be seen varying shades of blue
and orange, we find that strange mixture of the
sour and the sweet, of optimism and pessimism,
which produces the impressionable temperament
of the genius.

"Eyes with a preponderance of greenish shades

THE INDEX OF WOMAN'S NATURE
The feminine countenance, like that of the male, is
divisible into four compartments. First is the intel-
lectual domain, which should be ample. Power is the
second division and should be a good third of the
countenance, for it is the seat of pugnacity, of the
quarrelsome traits and of the inspirational forces. If
the lips fill a liberal expanse in the third division,
affections and passions are strong. Vitality is de-
ficient if space for the chin represents less than one-
fifth of the length of the cowntenance.

denote coquetry and the
most artful deceitfulness.

"Eyes of dead colors, dull
and expressionless, bespeak
a sluggish temperament,
listless disposition, and a
cold, selfish nature.

"A calm, steadfast glance
from a tranquil blue eye,
usually large, denotes a
clear conscience, sweet, gen-
tle disposition, and a gen-
erous nature. From brown
eyes it too often denotes
amatory love.

"Rapid and constantly
shifting motion of the eyes
denote a nervous, careful
nature.

"The greater the width
between the eyes, the more
susceptible and impressiona-
ble the intellect. Eyes set
closely together accompany
the obtuse, obstinate na-
ture."

The smaller the eyes,
we are further told, the
greater the extremes of
feeling of which the
owner is capable. Large
eyes denote calmness,
constancy and patience.
Eyes deeply set indicate a
determined, selfish and
even harsh temperament.
Bulging eyes reveal cul-
ture, refinement and gen-
tility. But it is time to
refer to characteristics of
a general nature:

"Thought does not laugh :
laughing is involuntary,
hence thoughffulness and
self-control is shown in the
manner and frequency of
audible laughing, — the fre-
quent giggle denoting shal-
low thinking, and the quiet
nature, seldom, if ever,
known to laugh audibly,
though it may often smile,
denoting depth of charac-
ter, intensity of feeling, and
thoughtfulness.

"Curved lines, running
from the region of hope to
that of integrity, around
and back of the corners of
the mouth, due to negative
destructiveness and positive
hope and integrity, are a
sure sign of a sweet, gentle,
hopeful nature, always pa-
tient, generous, and
friendly.

"Courage accompanies a
broad head."

VARIETIES OF
PROFILE

Avoid argument
with persons having a
profile resemblmg
number one. They
are too deep. Avoid
business dealings with
persons having a pro-
file like number two.
They are too shrewd.
Avoid fistic encoun-
ters with men whose
profiles are like num-
ber three._ Such men
are vicious, they
never fight fair.
Avoid persons with a
profile like number
four. They are great
advocates of mutual
love, but they will
take every advantage
of you, while keeping
well within the limits
of the law.

332

CURRENT LITERATURE

METCHNIKOFF ON IMMUNITY IN INFECTIVE DISEASES

HEN it was recognized that bac-
teria of disease are everywhere
around us, that a perfectly healthy
person may carry thousands upon
his person, may swallow food in which they
abound and yet remain healthy, there first
presented itself to science, observes the Revue
ScientiUque, the problem of the microbe.
Professor Metchnikoff, whose name will rank
in medical annals, says the London Lancet,
with the names of Harvey, Jenner, Lister and
Pasteur, set himself to the solution of the
problem of the microbe — what it did to the
human body and why it sometimes triumphed
and sometimes seemed to be powerless. It was
thus that he made his great discovery that
the microbes, harmless on the surface of the
skin or even when swallowed, become dan-
gerous invaders if admitted to the blood
through a wound. There they multiply rap-
idly, producing poisons or toxins. But the
blood has a defensive force of its own. As
soon as the invaders are recognized the white
corpuscles marshal in force and the blood in
its turn — though this last detail is a quite
recent discovery — produces other toxins or
rather produces anti-toxins. The anti-toxins
render the bacteria so powerless that the
white corpuscles cluster around them and
envelop them until they have perished

The initial discovery, to quote our au-
thority further, gained a world-wide influ-
ence from its application practically through-
out the field of scientific research. Investi-
gation showed that the man who recovered
from a microbic attack of this sort (that is,
from a serious infectious illness) was un-
likely to contract it again. His blood had
been stimulated to produce so great a num-
ber of these anti-toxins that future microbes
could be resisted with success. It was com-
paratively easy, therefore, to make the de-
duction that as soon as a person was attacked
by disease, a rapid cure would probably fol-
low if his blood could be made to produce
sufficient anti-toxins to enable the white cor-
puscles or phagocytes to conquer the bac-
terial invaders. Therefore all efforts were
concentrated on this endeavor and it is now
accomplished in two ways. Either small quan-
tities of the actual microbic poison (which
can be prepared in laboratories) is injected
to evoke all the energy and effort of the de-
fending army (the principle employed in vac-
cination), or, if the defending army (the

white corpuscles) is in a weak condition, re-
inforcements are brought in from outside
through the injection of the serum or blood
from an animal which has been itself injected
with continual doses till its forces have been
made active and a part of them is drawn off
in this serum.

Such is the general principle of the anti-
toxin treatment. The exact theory of its
action and application is not yet finally un-
derstood. But at last we have Metchnikoff's
own version of the theories upon which the
treatment has been built up. He lays stress
upon the word "immunity." It supplies a
whole point of view, he contends. The aim
of his investigations is not to banish disease
— the thing may be impossible. It is not to
cause what is termed "cure" — there is always
the peril of relapse. Still less would he
effect what is popularly termed "prevention"
— one cannot outwit nature. The point to
bear upon is "immunity." Says Metchnikoff
in his treatise recently brought out here:*

"When an animal remains unharmed in spite of
the penetration of infective agents, it is said to
be immune to the diseases usually set up by these
agents. This idea embraces a very great number
of phenomena, which can not always be sharply
separated from allied phenomena. On the one
hand, immunity is closely connected with the
process of cure. On the other it is related to the
disease. An animal may be regarded as un-
harmed if the penetration of a very dangerous
virus sets up merely an insignificant discomfort.
Nevertheless, this discomfort is accompanied by
morbid symptoms, though they may be very slight.
It is useless and impossible to set up any precise
limits between immunity and allied states.

"Immunity presents great variability. Some-
times it is very stable and durable. In other
cases, it is very feeble and transient. Immunity
may be individual or it may be generic. It may
be the privilege of a race, of a species.

"Immunity is often innate, as is the case of the
immunity, which is called natural. But it may
also be acquired. This last category of immunity
may be developed either by natural means, after
an attack of an infective disease, or as a result
of human intervention. The principal means of
obtaining artificially acquired immunity consists in
the inoculation of viruses and of vaccines.

"Immunity is a phenomenon which has existed
on this globe from time immemorial. Immunity
must be of as ancient date as is disease. The
most simple and the most primitive organisms
have constantly to struggle for their existence.
They give chase to living organisms in order to
obtain food, and they defend themselves against
other organisms in order that they may not be-
come their prey."

•Immunity in Infective Diseases. By Elie Metchnikoff.
G. P. Putnam's Sons.

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

333

THE LOWER JAW AS AN INDEX OF CHARACTER

m^jF there be one point upon which all
physiognomists seem agreed, ob-
serves that noted student of neurosis,
Dr. Louis Robinson, it is that firm-
ness of character is expressed in the chin and
lower jaw. We all exercise our knowledge of
this branch of the science continually when
brought face to face with a stranger, and it
hardly ever leads us astray. There is some-
thing quite unmistakable in the lower half of
the face of a man of determined character. It
can be read at a glance and from almost any
point of view.

Strictly speaking, although we all talk famil-
iarly of a "firm chin," the anatomical chin is
not the part which is chiefly concerned in giv-
ing that cast of visage which goes with a
determined will. It is possible to have a fairly
well developed chin and yet to be as unstable
as water. The chin proper may be defined as
that part of the lower- jaw immediately adja-
cent to the "symphisis" (or line where the two
halves of the bone are joined in front). Some
curious facts in anthropology have recently
been brought to light through a study of this
true chin, but it is in the lower jaw rather than
in the chin that we find an index of determina-
tion or the reverse.

At first sight, the problem as to the nature
of the link which we will admit to exist be-
tween the will and the jawbone appears in-
soluble. Why should a man who has certain
mental characteristics, the origin of which
must without doubt be looked for in the tissues
of the brain, show a clear and unmistakable
sign of them in his lower jaw more than any-
where else? Although the pronouncements of
phrenologists as to the outward and visible
signs of various mental qualities have been to
a great extent discredited, we all admit the
existence of a certain conformity between the
shape of the head and the mental character.
One must admit also that this correspondence
may depend upon the comparative development
of certain lobes of the brain which contain the
physical mechanism of this or that mental
faculty. But in the case before us there can be
no question of "organs" or "bumps," such as
the phrenologist depends upon in reading char-
acter from the shape of the head, — for the
lower jaw is anatomically as independent of
the brain as is the hand or foot. How, then,
are we to account for the invariable cor-
respondence between a certain shape of jaw
and certain mental or moral qualities? We

quote from Dr. Robinson's article in Black-
wood's:

"Sometimes, especially amongst a mixed race
like that inhabiting these islands, a problem such
as this can be solved by searching into racial his-
tory. Every one knows that among our fellow-
men red hair carries with it certain peculiarities
of temper. Breeders of domestic animals also
recognize many kindred links between inward and
outward characteristics. Thus a chestnut horse
with white legs usually has a fiery temper, a
brown roan horse is almost invariably placid, and
a rat-tailed horse can almost certainly be de-
pended upon as a strenuous worker. Correspond-
ences of a like kind can be found among dogs
and cattle, especially in the case of the more re-
cent breeds. Black retriever dogs are supposed
to have derived both their characteristic coats
and treacherous tempers from a strain of wolfish
blood imported by way of Newfoundland, while
among shorthorn cattle the wildness often ob-
served in white animals may perhaps find its ex-
planation in Chillingham Park [where a wild
strain of cattle has long been kept for breeding
purposes]. In all probability most of such in-
stances of correlation may be explained by the
fact that, among the ancestry of modern mixed
races, some tribe of men or breed of animals
possesses in a marked degree both the inward
and outward characteristics which we now find
associated, and that wherever the one shows, the
other is still linked with it. Most likely some
deep-blooded and hot-blooded Celtic tribe of the
prehistoric ages is accountable for the people
among us whose temper and complexion have
been vulgarly summed up in the word 'ginger.'
In like manner one may perhaps infer a primeval
race of rat-tailed wild horses who lived a strenu-
ous life in some region where flies and provender
were not abundant.

"It does not seem possible, however, to inter-
pret the link between the jaw and the character
in this way, since it apparently exists in equal
degree among every section of the human race.
It is, in fact, almost as easy to form an opinion
as to the firmness of character of a Negro, a
Chinaman, or a Carib, from the shape of his
lower jaw, as in the case of a European. I say
almost as easy, because, in the case of the primi-
tive savage, the shape of the jaw is generally
influenced by the extremely hard work which the
teeth have to do in the mastication of coarse food.
Thio fact, although apparently a complication of
the problem, if looked at in another wav gives us
a very useful clue. There can be very little doubt
that the jawbone is greatly influenced both in size
and shape by the vigorous actions of the muscles
attached to its surfaces."

It is surprising how rapidly the shape of
many of the bones of the human body may be
altered, even in adult life, by the use of mus-
cles or by their disuse. Every surgeon who
has to examine the part of a limb which re-
raiains intact after an amputation has observed

334

CURRENT LITERATURE

how rapidly the bones which have been ren-
dered useless diminish in size and strength.
A remarkable instance of this kind came under
the notice of Dr. Robinson himself recently.
It is well known that a blacksmith, by a con-
tinual and vigorous use of his right arm, ob-
tains not only remarkable muscular develop-
ment, but also quite as remarkable bony de-
velopment. This is most easily observed in
the collar bone, which, on the side of the work-
ing arm, is thick, crooked and rough for the
attachment of powerful muscles.

A working engineer, who had been doing a
good deal of anvil work, and whose right arm
was developed accordingly, was so unfortunate
as to lose the limb in a machinery accident.
Almost as soon as the poor fellow was out of
the hospital he determined to train his left arm
and hand for the work and with splendid reso-
lution he succeeded in doing so. Altho he was
already a middle-aged man, not only did the
muscles of his left arm grow thick and pow-
erful, but the bones, especially the collar-bone,
underwent within a few months a correspond-
ing change. On examining him a short time
ago, Dr. Robinson found that his right collar
bone had become as slender and as smooth as
a woman's. The left one had become not only
greatly thickened and strengthened, but had
acquired that peculiar "S"-like curve usually
found upon a blacksmith's right side. This
curious crookedness of the collar bone at-
tached to the smith's smiting arm probably
saves the body from the jar which would
otherwise be conveyed to it from the use of the
hammer.

It is easy to see that, supposing certain pow-
erful muscles, such as are attached to the
lower jaw, were to become vigorously active,
one might in like manner expect a change in
the configuration of the bone and in the out-
line of the face. That such changes do occur
can be shown without the introduction of moral
or physiognomical considerations.

Until within the last few months the crews
of British fighting ships have had to live
mainly upon hard tack. Such food throws
heavy work on the muscles of mastication. As
a consequence, one never sees a sailor with a
weak jaw. Dr. Robinson's attention was first
drawn to this fact when some years ago he had
to pass a number of boys from a London
parish district into the navy. These lads
would from time to time reappear in their old
haunts when visiting their relatives. The
change in them was indeed remarkable, and
was made more manifest when they were con-
sorting with their old schoolfellows and cpm-

panions who had never left the life of the
streets :

"Undoubtedly the most noticeable improvement
in them, next to their superior stature and healthy
appearance, was the total change in the shape and
expression of their faces. On analyzing this, one
found that it was to be mainly accounted for by
the increased growth and improved angle of the
lower jaw.

"Recently a remarkable demonstration of the
same fact was seen in a crowded London railway
station. A train loaded with some hundreds of
blue-jackets was standing in the station just at
the time when the platform was thronged with
citizens on their way to the suburbs. Most of the
sailors were looking out of the windows, and the
crowd on the platform was looking at the sailors.
The contrast between the two sets of jaws thus
brought vis-d-vis with one another was most
striking. Here, on the one side, one had the
average civilian, belonging to no one class (many
were obviously tradesmen, mechanics, and clerks),
but who had been nourished upon the elaborately
prepared food common to all tables among highly
civilized peoples. On the other were a number
of men, not very different in origin, but who
had from their youth up been compelled to chew
the notoriously hard biscuit and beef with which
our seamen have been provided by hide-bound
naval tradition for over a century.

"A similar development of the lower jaw ap-
pears to result from the habit of chewing 'gum,'
which is common in the United States. Certainly
among the classes where the habit is prevalent
one can detect a wider dental arch than the
average, and also an increased prominence of the
lower jaw. Tobacco-chewing, a loathsome habit
which happily appears to be going out of fashion
among civilized people, has been productive of a
cast of countenance which will remain historic for
all time. 'Uncle Sam' will probably be for ever
portrayed as an individual 'lean of flank and lank
of jaw,' as Oliver Wendell Holmes verbally de-
picts him in his humorous apotheosis. Those
familiar with the portraits of the great soldiers
of the American Civil War can hardly fail to
have been struck by the curious family likeness
which runs through their dour determined vis-
ages. It is scarcely too much to say that this
military type is practically extinct in America
now. Almost to a man, these long-faced sallow
heroes were tobacco-chewers, as were also many
of the prominent statesmen of the same period.
It was, however, by no means exclusively an
American custom. Most people of middle age can
remember, among sailors and working men of
Great Britain, men with long angular jaws and
wrinkled sallow cheeks resembling those of that
extinct ruminant, the 'typical Yankee' of carica-
ture."

There is one facial trait that the chewer of
tobacco possesses in common with the man-of-
war's man and nearly all hard-living sav-
ages. His mouth shuts firmly, conveying the
impression that he knows his own mind. The
same may be said of most of the portraits
which have come down to us from ancient and
medieyal times. Let anyone curious in such

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

335

matters compare these portraits with those of
modern people, such as may be seen in any
photographer's window, and he will find that
it is quite exceptional to see among contem-
porary faces that easy and firm set of the
mouth, depending on the shape of the lips and
jaws, which is so necessary to the dignity of
the human countenance. Three faces out of
four which we encounter as we pass along the
street lack "character" for the same reason.

When we consider how many otherwise
pleasing faces among the young people of
modem times are marred by a certain weakness
in the outline of the jaw, probably due to the
fact that our food is now so elaborately pre-
pared for us as to need but little muscular
effort in mastication, one wonders that none
of the astute and pushing people now figuring
as improvers of human looks have offered
their services as professors of jaw gymnastics.

One result of the "soft tack" on which we
are all now living is that the lower jaw does
not attain growth sufficient to accommodate all
the teeth, which, as a consequence, become
crowded and defective. Theories have been
put forward that the human species is under-
going an evolutionary change, that the number
of the teeth is diminishing, because in some
cases the wisdom teeth do not appear above
the gum or only appear in a very modified
form. This is not sound science if the views
of the most noted students of evolution be well
based. Probably in almost every case this de-
fective development is due to individual jaw-
indolence, and not to racial degeneration.
Were the next crop of children to be as lightly
clothed and as hardly fed as were the brats of
the root-eating and acorn-eating ages, the sur-
vivors would have a dental equipment as effi-
cient as that of the ancient Britons.

Having now made it sufficiently plain that
the shape of the human jaw may be influenced
in early life by the action of muscles upon the
bone, let us see what bearing this fact has
upon the main question with which we set out.
If it can be shown that an innate obstinacy of
disposition gives rise to habitual activity of the
biting muscles, we shall not be far from a
solution.

There can be no doubt that the chief ingre-
dients of our moral natures come into the
world with us. Without going into metaphys-
ics and discussing the primal causes as to the
constitutional differences between soul and
soul, we can say with confidence that certain
specific arrangements of the nerve cells of the
brain which exist in each of us from the be-
ginning, have to do with the outward manifes-

tations of those differences. Not only is the
boy father of the man, but the embryo is father
of the boy. Very early in life it is possible to
observe the differences between those who are
naturally timid and those who are naturally
courageous, between the placid nature and the
querulous. Every man of obstinate will re-
vealed his nature early in life as a wilful
youth and a wilful baby:

"Now everyone knows that when we face a
sudden crisis of life in a resolute mood we in-
stinctively 'set our teeth.' To get an answer to
the question why this is the case we must go back,
very far indeed to a state of development when
practically every serious difficulty, whether social
or other, — except such as demanded instant flight,
— was settled by vigorous biting. I have repeat-
edly drawn attention to the fact that we have
more relics of primordial instincts and habits in
our nervous systems than in our physical struc-
ture, and this is no exception to the rule. Al-
though ever so many thousand years out of date,
the old nervous currents are still set going by the
same stimuli that first called them forth. Darwin
shows, in his book entitled 'The Expression of the
Emotions in Man and Animals,' that a sneer is
really the remnant of a very expressive threat,
viz., a lifting of the lip to display the formidable
canine teeth. In like manner the action of setting
the teeth, which consists in bracing the biting
muscles (just as a batsman braces the muscles
of his arms as the ball approaches), is a relic of
the habit of getting ready to tackle a foe, or a
difficulty, in the simple prehistoric way: nature
for the moment being oblivious of the fact that
the old dental tactics have been superseded.

"Moreover, careful observation of very young
children has shown that, even before there are
any teeth to bite with, the infant in a determined
mood clenches its gums together by contracting
its temporal and masseter muscles. I am in-
clined to think that the action of the temporal is
more responsible for the determined jaw than that
of the masseter. This may perhaps explain the
difference, which is readily discernible, between
the square jaw, which indicates determination, and
that to which attention has already been drawn,
which comes from chewing hard food. In hard-
biting animals, such as the bull-dog and the
badger, it is the fully developed temporal muscle
which gives the characteristic bulging behind the
cheeks; and in a man of determined visage not
only do we get the effect of a constant pull of
the powerful muscle upon the angles of the
lower jawbone, but also the equally characteristic
fullness of outline of that part of the head be-
tween the upper margin of the ear and the brow,
where its fleshy body takes origin from the skull.
Broadly speaking — although they both act to-
gether, the temporal appears to be the biting mus-
cle as far as fighting teeth are concerned, while
the masseter is the biting muscle as far as chew-
ing teeth are concerned.

"Now, given our infant born with a vigorous
and dogged will, who habitually braces the above-
mentioned muscles whenever that will is brought
into conflict with those of other people, we shall
have a corresponding growth of the mandible tak-
ing place from the very first. As a rule, in young
faces, owing to the changes necessary in the grow-

336

CURRENT LITERATURE

ing jaw for the formation of teeth, and also to
the fact that there is a mask of adipose tissue gfiv-
ing a general roundness to the face, the develop-
ment of the angle of the jaw is not very obvious.
Moreover, during the long educational period when
submissiveness to authority is an important virtue,
and when most of the serious difficulties of life
are met by parents and others, a dogged determi-
nation of character and its physical manifestations
are not much to the fore. Hence it happens that
it is when the real battle of life begins we as a

rule first notice that the round-faced boy or girl
has, often within a very short time, become a
square- jawed and formidable person.

"Whether the squareness of jaw denote a
laudable strength and firmness of character, or
mere stupid pig-headedness, is not a part of our
present problem. This must depend upon the
presence or absence of such brain cells as are
necessary for the manifestation of other mental
and moral faculties, which are quite distinct from
the nervous mechanism of the strong will."

BEES AND BLUE FLOWERS

TiLOWERS have become blue because
blue is the favorite color of the bee,
according to Grant Allen. Be this
the case or not, some of the most
important generalizations of science have been
based upon the idea. "There are few scientific
theories which have enjoyed a wider popu-
larity than this which ascribes the origin of
flowers to the selective action of insects," says
that distinguished evolutionary botanist. Pro-
fessor G. W. Bulman, in a recent paper in The
Nineteenth Century. We may safely conclude,
says Darwin, that if insects had never existed
vegetation would not have been decked with
beautiful flowers. The idea thus widely put
forth has been taken up and developed in what
Professor Bulman deems a remarkable way.
The thought that insects, by visiting the
flowers for their own ends, have unconsciously
played the part of florists and have produced
for us the varied blossoms of field and wood, is
now denounced by Professor Bulman as er-
ror, very misleading error. There is a notion,
he points out, that even green flowers have
actually "tried to become blue" in response to
the solicitation of the bee. What an absurdity,
comments the scientist we quote, and how it
has misled the ablest scientists! Professor
Bulman's argument runs in this way:

"The evolution of the blue flower by the bee be-
came a classic in the fairytales of science. In
one of Mr. Grant Allen's fascinating essays he
explains the origin of the blue monk's-hood from
a plain yellow flower like a buttercup. The story
runs as follows : In the far-off past there was a
plain buttercup-like flower of a yellow color. Let
us call it a buttercup, altho it could not be iden-
tified with any living species. To these buttercups
the bees resorted for pollen and nectar. Now,
amongst them there were some with a tinge of
blue. These the bees selected for their visits.
They were thus cross-fertilized and produced
more numerous and vigorous offspring than those
which were not blue and not selected. And in

succeeding generations bluer and bluer flowers
chanced to appear, and were selected by the bees
in a similar way. Thus the yellow buttercup grew
bluer and bluer. At the same time there were
trifling variations in the shape of a flower. A
petal in some was bent over to form a protection
for the nectar. These were selected, and gradu-
ally in a similar way the hood of the monk's-hood
was evolved. So with the other peculiarities in
the shape of the flower. Then it chanced that a
plant arose with more numerous flowers on one
stem. This was immediately noticed and seized
on by the bee. And as flowers appeared more
closely grouped on a stem they continued to at-
tract the bee by their greater conspicuousness,
and were selected and benefited. At last ap-
peared the tall spiked inflorescence of the monk's-
hood with its closely set, blue-hooded flowers.
Such is the story of the bee and the blue flower,
told in less poetic language, but substantially the
same as the more fascinating account of Mr.
Grant Allen.

"But there is a white variety of our common
blue monk's-hood, and Darwin relates a curious
fact about it. 'Dr. W. Ogle [he writes] has com-
municated to me a curious case. He gathered in
Switzerland lOO flower-stems of the common blue
variety of the monk's-hood (Aconitum napellus),
and not a single flower was perforated; he then
gathered lOO stems of a white variety growing
close by, and every one of the open flowers had
been perforated.' This shows, at least, that the
white monk's-hood had been frequently visited
by bees — it suggests that it may have been more
visited than the blue.

"And then there is a yellow species of monk's-
hood (Aconitum vulparia). Now, was this yel-
low monk's-hood derived from the blue or the
blue from the yellow? Or perhaps we should
rather say, was their common ancestor yellow or
blue? If the former, then where was the bees'
taste for blue during the long ages when the
yellow monk's-hood was being evolved from the
buttercup? And if the bees' taste came later, how
has the yellow monk's-hood remained yellow in
spite of it? If, on the other hand, the common
ancestor was blue, how could a yellow be derived
from it by the 'azure-loving bee'?"

What grounds are there, then, asks Profes-
sor Bulman, for supposing that blue is the
favorite color of the bee ? The belief that bees

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

337

prefer blue, which forms so essential a portion
of the theory, is founded solely on certain
experiments carried out by Lord Avebury.
These experiments consisted in placing honey
on slips of glass over paper of various colors
and noting carefully the visits of a particular
bee, or several bees, to this honey. Now, the
results of these observations showed not that
a bee visited the honey over the blue paper
only, but that it paid a larger number of visits
to this than to that over any one of the other
colors. The experiments showed at the most
only a somewhat limited and partial preference
for blue on the part of the bee.

Lord Avebury says he put some honey on a
piece of blue paper, and when a bee had made
several journeys, and thus become accustomed
to the blue color. Lord Avebury placed some
more honey in the same manner on orange
paper about a foot away. And again, having
accustomed a bee to come to honey on blue
paper. Lord Avebury ranged in a row other
supplies of honey on glass slips placed over
papers of other colors — yellow, orange, red,
green, black and white. But Professor Bul-
man notes that it was only after a bee had be-
come accustomed to take the honey off blue
paper that it was put to the test. Surely the
fair test would have been to offer the bee
honey on the different colors when it first
came. But, as a matter of fact, Professor Bul-
man believes Lord Avebury's experiments
show not that bees prefer blue, but that they
can distinguish and appreciate color.

But if the bee does prefer blue, and if Lord
Avebury's experiments be held to prove it,
they could easily be repeated by others. It is a
significant fact. that they have never been con-
firmed by any other observer. It may even be
doubted whether Lord Avebury himself has
repeated them a sufficient number of times to
completely eliminate the element of chance.
One scientist who tried similar experiments
found that the color of the paper beneath the
honey made no difference in the frequency of
the bees' visits. But then he had not first ac-
customed the bees to come to the blue.

Suppose, however, for the sake of argument,
that Lord Avebury's experiments had been
conducted under sufficiently rigid conditions,
that they have been repeated often enough and
that he is justified in the conclusions he has
drawn from them. Even this would not be
enough :

"If this preference on the part of the bee is to
make it efficient as an evolver of blue flowers, it
must show it by picking out blue flowers for its
visits. And if the action of the bee in nature

seems to contradict Lord Avebury's conclusions,
it is surely these latter that will have to be ex-
plained away. Let us, then, look at the real bee
at work among the flowers. It occurs at once
that a decisive experiment would be to present a
bee with a number of flowers of a similar shape
and scent, but differing in color. And anyone
who possesses a garden will find all the details for
the experiment arranged for him there. He has
only to go out, note-book in hand, and jot down
the progress of the experiment. A bed of hya-
cinths, for example, often presents us with the
three colors, red, white, and blue together. Watch
the bees on such a bed. As they arrive, one
goes first to a white flower, another to a blue, and
a third to a red. They pass from white to blue
or red, from red to blue or white, and from blue
to white or red. They take the different colors,
in fact, in every order possible on the mathemati-
cal theory of permutations. And let us note that
Darwin himself observed and recorded the fact
that bees pass indifferently from one color to an-
other in the same species.

"Then, again, what are the colors of the flowers
on which we see the bees at work in our gardens
and in the fields? Consider the case of green
flowers, those which, according to the theory,
have remained in that state from which the bee
has redeemed the more brightly colored. These
have presumably remained green because they
have not been chosen by the bee. So, then, we
should expect to find them neglected by the
'azure-loving' insect. But there are a number of
green or greenish flowers much frequented by
bees. In April bees innumerable may be seen
gathering nectar from the uncompromisingly
green flowers of the sycamore."

In other words, we have a sheer delusion,
according to Professor Bulman, supported, as
the delusion is, by the great name of Darwin
and by the weight of names so distinguished as
those of Grant Allen and Lord Avebury, used
as the basis of generalizations in three impor-
tant sciences — botany, zoology and biology.
Nay, so firmly implanted is the notion of re-
sponsibility of the bee for the spread of blue
flowers that even to contest the idea is to incur
ridicule. Nevertheless, insists Professor Bul-
man, there is no basis whatever for the belief.
It is merely an instance of the readiness of
generalizers to accept facts at second hand if
only those facts be supported by sufficiently
eminent authority. We need not, he adds, pur-
sue the color question through the pinks, reds,
purples and other shades to convince ourselves
of the grossness of the delusion with which we
are now dealing. It would, indeed, be difficult
to name any color which bees do not appreciate
as much as blue. Not that the bee despises
blue flowers. There are blue flowers much
visited, but these are neither more numerous
in species nor more frequently visited than
green, yellow or white. The bee, in fact, is
indifferent to the color of the flower it visits

Recent Poetry

wo of the pupils of Professor Wood-
berry, late of Columbia University,
are in evidence just now in the form
of recently published volumes of verse.
One of them, Louis V. Ledoux, just misses the
note of distinction, and his volume ("The Soul's
Progress and Other Poems"), while it has poetic
merit, savors a little too much of the thesis. We
do not light upon the surprises, either of thought
or of expression, that instantly make a captive of
the reader, and there is no one poem that compels
quotation here. The other pupil, John Erskine, in
his volume entitled "Actaeon and Other Poems"
(John Lane Company), takes his place at once
as one of the most promising of our minor poets.
His themes are often academic, but the treat-
ment is fresh and virile. The title-poem has real
poetic nobility, and we regret that its length will
not admit of reproduction in our pages. We
reprint the following instead :

WINTER SONG TO PAN

By John Erskine

Pan sleeps within the forest! There I heard
Him piping once, there once I heard him shame
The wild bird with his note, but now he sleeps,
Wrapped in the ragged drif tings of the snow.
Half-naked to the wind, and by his side
The magic pipes, long fallen from weary hands.

God of the drowsy noon, awake! awake!
Pipe me a summer tone once more, and pipe
Thy godhead back again. Hast thou forgot
The finger-tips a-tingle on the pipes.
The musing tone a-tremble on the lips,
The sweets divinely breathed, the summer sweets ?
Hast thou forgot the noonday peace, the touch
Of forest-greenness resting on the world.
The hollow water-tinkle of the brooks.
The startled drone of some low-circling bee?
Once thou didst love the heat, the hushed bird-
song.
The rich half-silence, breathing mystery:
It is full-silence now; now bird and bee
Are silent, and the crystal-frozen brooks
That wind mute silver through the land, like veins
In quarried stone; the forest voice is gone;
Hark to the withered crackle of the leaf
Whose sigh of old was beautiful ! The pipes
Of Pan are stopped with icicles, where once
Breath of a god made music. FooHsh god !
Thy finger-tips must tingle now with cold,
And only frost be trembling on thy lips.
Thou art but half a god, and see, the cold
Hath gnawed away thy half-divinity.
And made thee seem all beast ! The mocking

chill
Of winter parodies our human grief
In thee; those bitter ice-drops on thy cheek.
Was ever human tear so hard and cruel?
Age cannot touch the gods, but see, the snow

Hath crowned thee whiter than a thousand years !
All this is for thy sleep ! Awake, O Pan !
Breathe on thy pipes again, O bring me back
One summer day, and be the god of old !
Make loud the brook, and rouse the droning bee.
And come thou to thy kingdom back, and pipe.
I wait for thee, for thee my song I raise.
But at thy waking thou shalt answer me.
And bird and leaf and brook and drowsy noon
Shall meet the wild bee's droning in thy song.
O summer-bringing voice, return, O Pan !

PARTING

By John Erskine

Not in thine absence, nor when face
To face, thy love means most to me.

But in the short-lived parting-space.
The cadence of felicity.

So music's meaning first is known.
Not while the bird sings all day long,

But when the last faint-falling tone
Divides the silence from the song.

Mr. William B. Yeats has of late been aban-
doning lyrical for dramatic expression, and in
his volume of collected "Lyrical Poems" (just
published by Macmillans), he confesses, in a
preface, to "no little discontent" with his earlier
work, when he was influenced by the desire "to
be as easily understood as the Young Ireland
writers, — to write always out of the common
thought of the people." He likens himself to a
traveler newly arrived in a city, who at first
notices nothing but the news of the market-place,
the songs of the workmen, the great public build-
ings ; but who, after some months, has come to
let his thoughts run upon some little carving in
a niche, some Ogham on a stone, or the con-
versation of a green countryman. Now, in his
dramatic work (a collection of which is to ap-
pear in the Spring), he is, he admits, half re-
turning to his first ambition. Mr. Yeats must,
of course, follow the laws of literary develop-
ment, but we could almost wish that he would
not only half return, but altogether return to his
earlier ambition, — at least that he would now and
then turn from his dramatic work to g^ive us
more of the glamor and mystery of his early
lyrics. We reprint one of his earliest and best-
known poems and one of his later lyrics :

THE SONG OF THE HAPPY SHEPHERD

By William B. Yeats

The woods of Arcady are dead,
And over is their antique joy;
Of old the world on dreaming fed;
Gray Truth is now her painted toy;

RECENT POETRY

339

Yet still she turns her restless head:
But O, sick children of the world,
Of all the many changing things
In dreary dancing past us whirled,
To the cracked tune that Chronos sings.
Words alone are certain good.
Where are now the warring kings.
Word be-mockers? — By the Rood,
Where are now the warring kings?
An idle word is now their glory.
By the stammering schoolboy said,
Reading some entangled story:
The kings of the old time are fled.
The wandering earth herself may be
Only a sudden flaming word,
In clanging space a moment heard,
Troubling the endless reverie.

Then no wise worship dusty deeds.

Nor seek; for this is also sooth;

To hunger fiercely after truth,

Lest all thy toiling only breeds

New dreams, new dreams ; there is no truth

Saving in thine own heart. Seek, then.

No learning from the starry men.

Who follow with the optic glass

The whirling ways of stars that pass —

Seek, then, for this is also sooth.

No word of theirs — the cold star-bane

Has cloven and rent their hearts in twain.

And dead is all their human truth.

Go gather by the humming sea

Some twisted, echo-harboring shell.

And to its lips thy story tell.

And they thy comforters will be,

Rewording in melodious guile

Thy fretful words a little while.

Till they shall singing fade in ruth.

And die a pearly brotherhood ;

For words alone are certain good ;

Sing, then, for this is al>o sooth.

I must be gone : there is a grave

Where daffodil and lily wave.

And I would please the hapless faun,

Buried under the sleepy ground.

With mirthful songs before the dawn.

His shouting days with mirth were crowned;

And still I dream he treads the lawn.

Walking ghostly in the dew.

Pierced by my glad singing through.

My songs of old earth's dreamy youth :

But ah ! she dreams not now ; dream thou !

For fair are poppies on the brow :

Dream, dream, for this is also sooth.

NEVER GIVE ALL THE HEART

By William B. Yeats

Never give all the heart, for love
Will hardly seem worth thinking of
To passionate women, if it seem
Certain, and they never dream
That it fades out from kiss to kiss;
For everything that's lovely is
But a brief dreamy kind delight.
O never give the heart outright
For they, for all smooth lips can say.
Have given their hearts up to the play.
And who could play it well enough
If deaf and dumb and blind with love?
He that made this knows all the cost.
For he gave all his heart and lost.

It is a little late for New Year's poetry, but
the poem below is a New Year's poem only in
name. Mr. Hardy has given us before his
strange conception of God. It is "orthodox"
neither from a religious nor a poetical point of
view, tho it has some likeness to the strange
misshapen monsters to whom Hindu worshipers
bow in supplication. We reprint from The Fort-
nightly Review:

NEW YEAR'S EVE

By Thomas Hardy

"I have finished another year," said God,

"In grey, green, white, and brown;
I have strewn the leaf upon the sod,
Sealed up the worm within the clod,
And let the last sun down."

"And what's the good of it?" I said,

"What reasons made You call
From formless void this earth I tread,
When nine-and-ninety can be read
Why nought should be at all?

"Yea, Sire ; why shaped You us, 'who in

This tabernacle groan'? —
If ever a joy be found herein.
Such joy no man had wished to win

If he had never known !"

Then He: "My labors logicless

You may explain ; not I :
Sense-sealed I have wrought, without a guess
That I evolved a Consciousness

To ask for reasons why !

"Strange, that ephemeral creatures who

By my own ordering are,
Should see the Shortness of my view.
Use ethic tests I never knew.

Or made provision for!"

He sank to raptness as of yore,
And opening New Year's Day

Wove it by rote as theretofore.

And went on working evermore
In His unweeting way.

There is joy in contrast, and another British
novelist who has taken to writing in verse fur-
nishes us about as sharp a contrast to the fore-
going as one could conceive of. Marie Corelli
has written a hymn for a Sunday-school book.
It is very sweet and simple. Five of the stanzas
are as follows :

AT EVENTIDE
By Marie Corelli

In our hearts celestial voices

Softly say:
"Day is passing, night is coming,

Kneel and pray !"

Father, we obey the summons;

Hear our cry.
Pity us and help our weakness.

Thou Most High.

340

CURRENT 'LITERATURE

For the joys that most we cherish

Praised be Thou.
Good and gentle art Thou ever,

Hear us now.

We are only little children

Kneeling here —
And we want our loving father

Always near.

Take us in Thy arms and keep us
As Thine own.
• Gather us like little sunbeams
'Round Thy throne.

In thirty-nine lines the author of the following
poem has contrived to embody a surprising
amount of the beauty, the thrill and the inspira-
tion of the supreme hour in the life of the dis-
coverer of America. The poem is printed in
Munsey's with elaborately colored illustrations:

COLUMBUS

By Charles Buxton Going

The night air brings strange whisperings— vague
scents^""

Over the unknown ocean, which his dreams
Had spanned with visions of new continents-
Fragrance of clove and sandal, and the balms

With which the heavy tropic forest teems,
And murmur as of wind among the palms.

They breathe across the high deck, where he
stands ,

With far-set eyes, as one who dreams awake,
Waiting sure dawn of undiscovered lands;
Till, on the slow lift of the purple swells.

The golden radiance of the mornmg break.
Lighting the emblazoned sails of caravels.

Then from the foremost sounds a sudden cry—
The Old World's startled greeting to the New—
For, lo! The land, across the western sky!
The exultant land! Oh, long-starved hopes,
I^IrcIc fG3.rs
Scoffings of courtiers, mutinies of crew-
Answered forever, as that shore appears!

Great Master Dreamer! Grander than Cathay,
Richer than India, that new Western World

Shall flourish when Castile has passed away.

Not even thy gigantic vision spanned
Its future, as with Cross, and flag unfurled.

Thy deep Te Deum sounded on the strand!

By this still outpost of the unbounded shore—
This small, bright island, slumbermg m the
sea,

A long resistless tide of life shall pour,
Loosed from its long-worn fetters, joyous, free.

Leaping to heights none ever touched before
And hurrying on to greater things to be.

The end is larger than thy largest plan,
Nobler than golden fleets of argosies

The land and life new-opening to man.

Within the womb of this mysterious morn
Quicken vast cities, mighty destinies,

Ideals and empires, waiting to be born.

the

But yet— there are but three small caravels.

Wrapped in the magic radiance of the seas,
Slow-moved, and heaving on low-bosomed swells.

Whether the exquisite love-story of Heloise
and Abelard needs to be retold in any other
form than that which has melted the heart of
the world for seven hundred years, is perhaps
debatable. No doubt on the subject has deterred
Ella Wheeler Wilcox from essaying to put into
sonnet form the letters of the lovers, and in
doing so she has retained their language, she
says, to such an extent that the sonnets are
"little more than a rhyming paraphrase of the
immortal letters." The Cosmopolitan publishes
the sonnets in two instalments. We quote sev-
eral from the February number:

HELOISE TO ABELARD
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

By that vast love and passion which I bore you,

By these long years of solitude and grief,
By all my vows, I pray and I implore you.

Assuage my sorrows with a sweet rehef.
Among these holy women, sin abhorring,

Whose snow-white thoughts fly ever to
Cross,
I am a sinner, with my passions warring.

All unrepentant, grieving for my loss.
Oh, not through zeal, religion, or devotion,

Did I abandon those dear paths we trod;
I followed only one supreme emotion,

I took the veil for Abelard— not God!

0 vows, O convent, tho you have estranged
My lover's heart, behold my own unchanged!

Within the breast these sacred garments cover,
There is no altar of celestial fire:

1 am a woman, weeping for my lover.
The victim of a hungering heart's desire.

Veiled as I am, behold in what disorder

Your will has plunged me; and in vain I try,
By prayer and rite, to reach some tranquil border,

Where virtues blossom and where passions die.
But when I think the conquest gained, some
tender

And radiant memory rises from the past;
Again to those sweet transports I surrender;

Remembered kisses feed me while I fast.
Tho lost my lover, still my love endures;
Tho sworn to God, my life is wholly yours.

Before the altar, even, unrepenting,

I carry that lost dream with all its charms;
Again to love's dear overtures consenting,

I hear your voice, I seek your sheltering arms.
Again I know the rapture and the languor,

By fate forbidden and by vows debarred;
Nor can the thought of God in all His anger

Drive from my heart the thought of Abelard.
My widowed nights, my days of rigorous duty.

My resignation of the world I knew.
My buried youth, my sacrifice of beauty,

Were all oblations offered up to you.
O Master, husband, father, let me move
With those fond names your heart to pitying love.

RECENT POETRY

341

By all my chains, my burdens, and my fetters,

I plead with you to ease their galling weight,
And with the soothing solace of your letters,

To teach me resignation to my fate.
Since you no more may breathe love's fervent
story,

I would be bride of heaven. Oh, tell me how !
Awake in me an ardor for that glory.

The love divine, so lacking in me now !
As once your songs related all love's pleasures.

Relate to me the rapture of your faith.
Unlock the storehouse of your new-found treas-
ures,

And lend a radiance to my living death.
Oh, think of me, and help me through the years !
Adieu ! — I blot this message with my tears.

ABELARD TO HELOISE
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Knowing the years of our delight were past.

And those seductive days no more could lure,
I sought religion's fetters to make fast

The sinful heart, that purposed to be pure.
In this seclusion, to conceal my shame :

In this asylum, to forget. Alas !
The very silence shouts aloud your name:

Through every sunbeam does your radiance
pass.
I fled, to leave your image far behind,

I pictured you the enemy of hope.
Yet, still I seek you, seek you in my mind,

And down the aisles of memory I grope.
I hate, I love, I pray, and I despair,
I blame myself, and grief is everywhere.

Religion bids me hold my thoughts in check.

Since love in me can have no further part;
But as wild billows dash upon a wreck.

So passions rise and beat upon my heart.
The habit of the penitent I wear.

The altars where I grovel bring no peace;
God gives not heed nor answer to my prayer,

Because the flames within me do not cease :
They are but hid with ashes, and I lack

The strength to flood them with a grace di-
vine.
For memory forever drags me back

And bids me worship at the olden shrine.
Your image rises, shrouded in its veil,
And all my resolutions droop and fail.

********

This mortal love, when dwelt upon with joy.

The love of God may not annihilate.
Oh, would you with old memories destroy

My piety, in its incipient state?
My vows to God grow feeble, in the war

With thoughts of you, and Duty's voices die,
Unanswered, down my soul's dark corridor.

While through my heart sweeps passion's des-
perate cry.
And can you hear confessions such as these,

And thrust your love between my God and me?
Withdraw yourself, unhappy Heloise,

Be heaven's alone, and let my life go free.
Drain sorrow's chalice, bravely take your cross;
To win back God, lies through the creature's loss.

One of the youngest of our new poets is
George Sylvester Viereck, who is scarcely out
from under the academic shades of his alma

mater, yet who has done work in poetry and
prose that has attracted marked attention both
in Germany and America. A volume of his
poems written in German has been published
and well noticed in Berlin, Brentano has pub-
lished a volume of his plays, and Moffat & Yard
are about to publish a volume of his poems in
English. One of them appears in The Smart
Set:

THE EMPIRE CITY

By George Sylvester Viereck

Huge steel-ribbed monsters rise into the air.
Her Babylonian towers, while on high
Like gilt-scaled serpents glide the swift trains
by,

Or underfoot creep to their secret lair.

A thousand lights are jewels in her hair.
The sea her girdle and her crown the sky;
Her veins abound, the fevered pulses fly;

Immense, defiant, breathless, she stands there

And ever listens in the ceaseless din

Waiting for him, her lover who shall come.
Whose singing lips shall boldly claim their
own
And render sonant what in her was dumb,
The splendor and the madness and the sin,

Her dreams in. iron and her thoughts of
stone.

From California comes this tribute to the
pioneer. We find it in The Independent:

A PIONEER
By Mary Austin

Goodhope came out of Warwick Mead,

Hating the law of the elder son.
And the Old- World rule by which they breed

Each to the guerdon his father won;
Never a chance for God to make
A good true man for his manhood's sake.

Goodhope came to a big new land.

Noblest ever a free man trod.
Hollow and hill-slope fitly planned

Fresh from the glacier mills of God,
Rain-wet steeps where the redwoods grew,
Rivers roaring the valleys through.

That was a land for a man to love;

Rosy the snow the spent cloud spills
Over the dark-spiked pines above.

Rosy with blossom the round-browed hills;
Wind-sown lichens of russet and red.
Never a rock uncomforted.

Goodhope gave of his best to the land —
For a new land takes of a man his best.

Blood and body and brain and hand —
Goodhope trusted the land for the rest.

And the land repaid him the deep-drawn breath,

And the high red pulse that laughs at death.

Paid him the increase of barn and byre.

Drudged for him deep in her secret ways.
Wrought him a balm for his heart's desire.

343

CURRENT LITERATURE

Rendered him coin of her noble days.
Mothered him, moulded him till he grew
Fittest for working her purpose through.

Goodhope wrestled with flood and wood;

And this is the law of the Pioneer —
Where one true man makes foothold good

Ten true fellows may stand next year.
Into the wilderness drove the wedge ;
Men like these were its cutting edge.

Goodhope walked in a fair, large town.
Mill-smoke wreathing the thin white spires —

Whispers of empire ran up and down,
Pulsing over the world-strung wires.

Heard men say with a laugh and a sneer

"There is old Goodhope, the Pioneer."

Goodhope died at the end of days.

Men with their feet in the ruts of trade
Dealt him a tardy dole of praise

For the good they won from the chance he
made,
Said, "It is well that our schemes have room,"
Elbowed and jostled above his tomb.

Raised to him never a monument.
Leaving him prone in his well-loved sod.

Back to its blossoms his ashes went.
But somewhere far in the halls of God,

Farther than prophet or sage can peer.

The spirit of Goodhope is Pioneer.

Here is another poem (in Scribner's) that gets
its inspiration from the backward glance:

THE FALL OF THE OAK

By William Hervey Woods

With front majestic o'er his fellows lifted,
Three hundred years he watched the dawn
come in.
Turn its long lances on the night-mists drifted,
And slope by slope the world to daylight win.

The gaunt, gray figure at his vitals striking
Seems but an infant to the ancient tree

Whose youth looked down on grandsons of the
Viking
And rough newcomers from an unknown sea.

He saw Winonah's wigwams careless cluster
Where now the corn-shocks camp in ordered
files,
And heard low thunders of the bisons' muster
Where clouds of sheep now fleck the fertile-
miles.

Much, much has passed him down the ages rang-
ing,
Old names of men, old towns and states and
wars —
The fields, the ways, the very earth went chang-
ing—
He only stood — ^he and the steadfast stars.

And now, alas ! low, low behind him wheeling
Sinks the red sun he shall not see go down.

And his own crest, in strangest ruin reeling.
Droops not the slowlier for its long renown.

The woods look on in silent grief attending.

The winds no mourning make around his
stem —
Too weak their wailing for a giant's ending —
The oak's own downfall is hus requiem.

And now begins ; his great heart-strings are
breaking;
His branches tremble ; now his mighty head
He stoops, and then, the hillside round him shak-
ing,
With whirlwind roar falls crashing prone and
dead.

And watched afar by many a frowning column
The woodman homeward moves while shadows
run.

And leaves behind him in the twilight solemn
Three hundred years of life and work undone.

Very vivid and true to life is the picture in
the following poem (from Everybody's) that
describes an experience familiar to New Yorkers :

CROSSING BY FERRY AT NIGHT

By Nancy Byrd Turner

Softly, with scarce a tremor to betray,
She slips her noisy moorings for the dark,
Clears the chafed waters where her comrades

sway.
Swings into shadow like a phantom bark.
And we are under way.

The sudden wind comes hushing back our breath.
The darkness takes our sight. This side, that

side.
The nameless river-reaches open wide.
The distance sucks us in; and underneath
We cleave the thwarting tide.

Black air, black water, blackness like a pall.
No moon, and not a star in heaven's height.
Look — like a strange handwriting on the wall —
A beauteous chain unwound along the night,
Each link a light —

The City ! . . . Yonder fades the Jersey flare,
As dim as yesterday. The way before
Is like a path of glory, now. We wear
The dark for wings, and set our hearts to dare
That wondrous waiting shore.

A new poem by Julia Ward Howe is an inter-
esting event. The subject in this case makes it
doubly interesting. We quote from Collier's'.

ROBERT E. LEE
By Julia Ward Howe

A gallant foeman in the fight,

A brother when the fight was o'er.

The hand that led the host with might
The blessed torch of learning bore.

No shriek of shells nor roll of drums.
No challenge fierce, resounding far.

When reconciling Wisdom comes
To heal the cruel wounds of war.

Thought may the minds of men divide.
Love makes the heart of nations one.

And so, thy soldier grave beside,
We honor thee, Virginia's son.

Recent Fiction and the Critics

Rg--^UCAS MALET (Mrs. Mary St. Legar
l^m^^ Harrison), daughter of Charles Kings-
LB^^ ley, stands among the foremost Eng-
EJHir^i lish novelists. "Like her handful of
peers," remarks the New York Herald, "she has
too great a respect for her art to scamp per-
formance by overhaste." She has
THE FAR in fact been even less produc-
HORizoN tive than George Meredith and
Thomas Hardy, or the chiefest of
her sisters, Mrs. Humphry Ward. Between "Sir
Richard Calmody," the last preceding work from
her pen, and the publication of her present book,*
six years of uninterrupted silence have elapsed. In
her new book this gifted writer "experiences" reli-
gion. It is a curious fact that the daughter of
Charles Kingsley, whose attack on the Roman
Catholic faith drew from Cardinal Newman his
famous "Apologia Pro Vita Sua," has followed
in the footsteps of her father's antagonist. Sev-
eral years ago, we read, Mrs. Harrison became
a convert to the Church of Rome. In the present
book she depicts the story of a similar conversion.
A significant quotation from Jeremiah faces the
title-page: "Ask for the old paths, where is the
good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find
rest." The Literary World (London) remarks
that an observation made by one of the characters
in the book, "There's nothing for making un-
pleasantness like religion and marriages," would
have been an apter text than the quotation given
above. "We cannot," says the reviewer, "help de-
ploring certain references to Protestantism that
might well have been omitted." The Times Sat-
urday Review, in a special editorial, hails the
novel as "the book of the year." It adds that the
author "is not abroad on the sorry work of pros-
elyting, which is clearly not in her line at all."
The London Daily Mail, on the other hand, as-
serts with no less conviction: "There is an im-
pression of proselytism left on the mind of the
reader which immensely detracts from the power
of her story." The Times editorial especially
praises the style of the book. "It is readable in
no ordinary way. One does not hurry through
its pages intent only on the story, but it both
invites and repays leisurely attention. One reads,
also, with no very distinct sense of the author's
style, which is unobtrusive and free from vagar-

•The Far Horizon. By Lucas Malet. Dodd, Mead &
Company.

ies." But here again a host of reviewers differ.
The Daily Mail reviewer, whom we have already
quoted, while hesitating to apply the epithet
"amateurish" to the novel, deplores the loss of
the "masterly grip" that distinguished the author's
previous effotts. The New York Evening Post
avers :

"The style of Lucas Malet does not improve. It
is diffuse, artificial, often pretentious: a style
which would be considered distinctively literary
by unliterary persons. It borders, at its worst,
upon that of Miss Corelli. Nor can Lucas Malet's
style m the larger sense be commended; her
novels are flimsy of structure, and cumbered
with superfluities."

"The Far Horizon,'" it goes on to say, "is
not that 'book of the year' toward which, it is
understood, the whole creation moves. It does
not strike one as a book which had to be written,
or will have to be read. But it possesses the
treasure of a really original and affecting central
motive."

Mrs. Harrison's novel contains no plot to
speak of. It is chiefly a study of four charac-
ters. Each of these is considered by at least
one reviewer to be drawn in most craftsman-
like style. Most critics, however, a^ree on two
of the characters, Dominic Iglesias, a super-
annuated pensioned London bank-clerk, son of a
Spanish father and an Irish mother, and Poppy
St. John, a delightful young comedienne with a
doubtful past but indubitable kindness of heart.
"She is," says the London Times, "a chattering
actress with innocent eyes to whom Mrs. Harri-
son contrives to lend a kind of charm. As a
matter of fact," it goes on to say, "Poppy is no
more and no less than the good-hearted courtezan
—the one, that is, who is (and always has been)
rescued from her lower nature by the chivalrous
hero. She has not yet appeared in real life, but
she has had life enough in fiction and on the
stage to make up for that with most people by
this time."

The two are used as foils. Poppy gives color
to the book, Dominic soul. They learn to love
each other, but their affection, in the phrase of one
reviewer, is "one of the most platonic recorded in
fiction." While "Sir Richard Calmody," centered
around a crippled dwarf of unprepossessing ex-
terior and brilliant intellectual qualities, the story
in "The Far Horizon" is woven about the pen-
sioned bank clerk. There are in the present book
none of the objectionable elements of the former.

344

CURRENT LITERATURE

It is its theme, — ^the growth of Dominic Iglesias
toward the intellectual and even physical repose
of the Catholic Church that he had renounced
in boyhood, and to which he returns at the age
of fifty as a child to its loving mother — that, in
the opinion of the Boston Evening Transcript,
gives Mrs. Harrison's story its power over the
reader and its most potent literary significance.
Here the author brings into play her keenest in-
tellectual and stylistic gifts. Marvelous is the
description of Dominic's redemption :

"Quietly yet fearlessly, as one who comes by
long-established right, Dominic walked the length
of the nave" — [the scene was Brompton Oratory,
and Dominic was then entering a church for the
first time in many years] — "knelt devoutly on both
knees, prostrating himself as, long ago, in the
days of early childhood his mother taught him
to do at the exposition of the Blessed Sacrament.
Now, after all these years — and a sob rose in his
throat — he seemed to feel her hand upon his
shoulder, the gentle pressure of which enjoined
reverence. Then rising, he took his place in the
second row of seats on the gospel side, and re-
mained there, through the concluding acts of the
ceremonial, until the silent congregation suddenly
finds voice — penetrated by austere emotion — in
recitation of the Divine Praises. Some minutes
later he knelt in the confessional, laying bare the
secrets of his heart. Thus did Dominic Iglesias
cast off the bondage of that monstrous mother,
London town, cast off the terror of those unbid-
den companions, Loneliness and Old Age, using
freedom — as the world counts such action — to ab-
jure freedom; and taking the risks, humbly recon-
cile himself to Holy Church."

"The Far Horizon" is easily the most widely
discussed book of the year. It is possible that
the author's religious point of view may have
cost her the sympathy of many reviewers. It
should be remembered that, as Mary K. Ford
points out in The Bookman (New York), while
the zeal of the convert is manifest in many pages
of the book, there is nothing dogmatic in the
central idea of the story, which tells of "godly
endeavor faithfully to travel the road which leads
to the far horizon touched by the illimitable glory
of the Uncreated Light."

"It is almost as if a new Dickens had swum

into our ken, but a Dickens who knows how to

curb the tendency to indulge in cari-

JOSEPH cature and humorous exaggeration, a

VANCE Dickens whose sentiment escapes the

touch of artificiality and mawkish-

ness." With such strong words of praise an

austere reviewer salutes the approach of William

De Morgan, whose "ill-written autobiography,"*

as he himself calls it, is pronounced by The

•Joseph Vance. An Ill-written Autobiography.
William De Morgan. Henry Holt & Company.

Dial the "fictional surprise of the season." Mr.
De Morgan comes as a stranger to the liter-
ary chronicler. The Dial reviewer welcomes for
that reason all the more cheerfully "this singu-
larly rich, mellow, and human narrative, which
is garrulous in the genial sense, and as effec-
tive as it is unpretending. Possibly," he adds,
"the author's frequently reiterated disclaimer of
literary intent may be thought to savor of af-
fectation, but we cannot find it in our heart
to say anything that has even the suggestion of
harshness about a book that has given us so much
pleasure."

The Chicago Evening Post resents even the
comparison with Dickens. It admits that De
Morgan writes of the middle class and of the
mid-century as Dickens liked to write, but it in-
sists that the latter, great as he was, had no
monopoly of either humor or originality. The
reviewer goes on to say :

"De Morgan's touch is very delicate. He is not
sensational and not sentimental, although 'Joseph
Vance' is primarily a story of strong attachments.
He thinks from the point of view of the cosmo-
politan Englishman, and like him remains English
to the end. His Joseph Vance has all the at-
tributes that unite to make an English gentleman
a satisfactory product of civilization."

The same reviewer sheds light on the per-
sonality of the author, which in the case of a
work full of intimate personal touches, cannot
but add to the interest. He says :

"In the year 1863 Lady Burne- Jones writes:
'Our friendship with William De Morgan, son of
Professor Augustus De Morgan, began in Great
Russell street, when his rare wit attracted us be-
fore we knew his other lovable qualities.' This is
an epitome of the impression made after many
days by William Frend De Morgan in his book
'Joseph Vance.' We knew of him as the son of
the great mathematician and logician and as an
intimate of some artists of the Preraphaelite
Brotherhood. And at least one house in Chicago
possesses fine examples of the famous luster tiles
of his designing and manufacturing. Yet an ex-
amination of the English 'Who's Who' of 1905
does not discover his name. In truth the achieve-
ment that was to bring him before a larger public
was still to come. Occasionally there is slight
clew to the author's tastes and predilections, as
when Joseph Vance gets on because he has a gen-
ius for mathematics, or when, later, Joseph Vance
and his friend Macallister join in the business of
inventing and manufacturing. For engines one
might read glazes and titles. Otherwise William
De Morgan makes way for his hero."

Of the hero of the book The .Outlook (New
York) remarks :

"Here, in 'Joseph Vance,' is a sweet-spirited
old man who has loved much, known many
friends worth knowing, suffered in silence for
love's sake, and at last has had his reward. He
has a kindly perception of the foibles and weak-

RECENT FICTION AND THE CRITICS

345

nesses of some odd characters with which his
stdry is involved and of the good qualities of
others, and soon one feels that he knows these
people as intimately as did the narrator. From
childhood to old age we accompany Joseph with
growing pleasure in his joy and sorrow, in his
griefs and troubles. Two characters stand out
with singular distinctness — Joseph's father, who,
despite his weakness for the bottle and his per-
versity in distorting names, has rough strength
and startling originality; the other, Lossie, Jo-
seph's early and late love, is a charmingly simple
and true woman, a character one instinctively
classes with Thackeray's Laura. In short,
'Joseph Vance' amuses by its willful divagations
from the straight path of narrative, quietly pleases
by its wholesome sentiment, and leaves one with
an impression of thorough enjoyment such as one
had from the 'old-fashioned' novel that preceded
the quick-seller and the instantaneous-effect fic-
tion of the day."

Olivia Howard Dunbar, in The North Ameri-
can Review, expresses her surprise that a con-
temporary of James and Meredith should have
been so far able to resist the influences of his
time as to produce a novel that is mid- Victorian
to the least syllable. She offers, however, the
ingenious explanation that possibly "the elaborate
simplicity of 'Joseph Vance' is the disguise of a
shrewd artfulness, and that it was Mr. De Mor-
gan's sophisticated intention to imply a comment
on literary fashions with which he may not hap-
pen to be in sympathy." However, it is also pos-
sible that "the novel's period of incubation may
have been unnaturally prolonged, and it may lit-
erally be a lonely survival of the age of Dickens
and Thackeray, discipleship to both of which mas-
ters it frankly displays. In any case," she re-
marks, "one finds oneself comparing this 'ill-writ-
ten autobiography,' as the title-page proclaims it,
with novels of recognized importance, rather than
with the ill-considered companions of its hour
of publication. 'Joseph Vance,' " she concludes,
"is probably the only book of its kind that the
present generation will offer; therefore the most
may as well be made of the temperate, mellow,
elderly enjoyment it affords."

Mr. E. F. Benson takes a strange delight in
morbid psychology. "Paul," his latest effort in
this direction, is an exceedingly un-
pleasant but interesting study of a
man who finds a special joy in wan-
ton and malicious cruelty. There is
an abundance of melodramatic action; neverthe-
less, the book,* in the opinion of some of the
critics, fails to grip. The result, remarks The
Bookman (London), must be pronounced subtle
rather than passionate. The Evening Post seeks
to explain the author's failure to convince by his

•Paul. By E. F, Benson. J. B. Lippincott

"curiously feminine talent." "By this," it adds,
"we do not mean precisely effeminate":

"He does not mince in his gait or speak in
falsetto; but his progress is attended by a kind
of emotional frou-frou. His characters are
always in a flutter of spirits, whether high or low ;
it is hard to take such volatile persons with be-
coming seriousness, however grave the predica-
ment into which the author may for the moment
immerse them."

The Athenaeum is disposed to rank this novel
as the best work accomplished by Mr. Benson
since the public ear was captured first by the
specious cleverness of "Dodo." The chief char-
acter of the novel is a puny man with a nature
so crippled as to render him almost inhuman. No
devil, says a reviewer, could have been more
fiendish than Theodore Beckwith, who throws
Norah, his wife, and his secretary, Paul, the man
she loves, together of set purpose, who delights
to torture and to see his victims writhe in an-
guish, and whose diabolic cruelty extends beyond
the grave. But, remarks Frederick Taber Cooper
in The Bookman (New York), unpleasant as he
is, Beckwith has the merit of being original, and
when, half way through the story, the author
strikes off his head with a sweep of the pen, the
interest of the book dies with him. To quote
further :

"A husband who is not only devoid of jealousy,
but actually foresees that his wife is likely to fall
in love with another man, and makes that man
his secretary so as to secure his constant presence
in the house, and amuse himself by watching the
struggles of the luckless couple against their
growing infatuation, is at least a novelty in fic-
tion, although a rather morbid one. But after
Paul has simplified the situation by running an
automobile over Theodore, there follows a weari-
some delay while Paul is mentally outgrowing his
boyhood and becoming enough of a man to decide
whether he really meant at the last moment to run
over Theodore, and if he did mean to do so,
whether it is his duty to confess to Norah that he
is the murderer of her husband. And when he
finally does muster up the courage to tell her,
she just looks at him and intimates that she has
known it all the time and loves him all the better
for it. This ought to satisfy Paul, but it doesn't.
He continues to feel that he ought to make some
sort of atonement for his sin. The idea stays by
him, even after he and Norah are married. But
the dead Theodore has left behind him a con-
stant reminder in the shape of an infant son ; and
after the manner of infants, it learns in time to
use its feet, and one day manages to toddle away
from its mother across the railway tracks, directly
in the course of an oncoming express train. Paul
knows at once that the hour for his atonement
has come. He flings himself before the train,
fishes Theodore's child from under the engine's
wheels and tumbles headlong beyond the tracks.
Then the train in gone, and Norah is saying to
him, 'You gave your life for the child. You gave
it to Theodore!' And Paul answers in all se-
riousness, 'Yes, at least I meant to.'"

346

CURRENT LITERATURE

Robin Redbreast — By Selma Lagerlof

This little tale by Sweden's noted writer of mystical stories has in it the simplicity of a
nursery rhyme and the beauty of perfect art. The translation from the Swedish is made by Volma
Swanston Howard for The Bookman, with whose permission we reproduce it.

T happened at that time when our
Lord created the world, when He not
only made heaven and earth, but all
the animals and the vegetable growths
as well, at the same time giving them their names.
There have been many histories concerning
that time, and if we knew them all, we would
then have light upon everything in this world
which we cannot now comprehend.

At that time it happened, one day, when our
Lord sat in His Paradise and painted the little
birds, that the colors in our Lord's paint pot
gave out, and the goldfinch would have been
without color if our Lord had not wiped all His
paint brushes on its feathers.

It was then that the donkey got his long ears,
because he could not remember the name that
had been given him. No sooner had he taken
a few steps along the meadows of Paradise than
he forgot, and three times he came back to ask
his name. At last our Lord grew somewhat im-
patient, took him by his two ears and said :
"Thy name is ass, ass, ass !" And while He
thus spake our Lord pulled both of his ears that
the ass might hear better, and remember what
was said to him.

It was on the same day, also, that the bee was
punished.

Now, when the bee was created, it began im-
mediately to gather honey, and the animals and
human beings who caught the delicious odor of
the honey came and wanted to taste of it. But
the bee wanted to keep it all for himself, and
with his poisonous sting pursued every living
creature that approached his hive. Our Lord
saw this and at once called the bee and pun-
ished it.

"I gave thee the gift of gathering honey, which
is the sweetest thing in all creation," said our
Lord, "but I did not give thee the right to be
cruel to thy neighbor. Remember well that every
time thou stingest any creature who desires to
taste of thy honey thou shalt surely die !"

Ah, yes ! it was at that time that the cricket
became blind and the ant missed her wings.
So many strange things happened on that day!
Our Lord sat there, big and gentle, and planned
and created all day long, and towards evening
He conceived the idea of making a little grey
bird. "Remember your name is robin redbreast,"
said our Lord to the bird, as soon as it was

finished. Then He held it in the palm of His
open hand and let it fly.

After the bird had been testing his wings a
bit, and had seen something of the beautiful
world in which he was destined to live, he be-
came curious to see what he himself was like.
He noticed that he was entirely grey, and that
the breast was just as grey as all the rest of
him. Robin redbreast twisted and turned in
every direction as he viewed himself in the mir-
ror of a clear lake, but he couldn't find a single
red feather. Then he flew back to our Lord.

Our Lord sat there on His throne, big and
gentle. Out of His hands came butterflies that
fluttered about His head, doves cooed on His
shoulders, and out of the earth about Him grew
the rose, the lily and the daisy.

The little bird's heart beat heavily with fright,
but with easy curves he flew nearer and nearer
our Lord till at last he rested on our Lord's
hand. Then our Lord asked what the little bird
wanted.

"I only want to ask you about one thing," said
the little bird.

"What is it that you wish to know?" said our
Lord.

"Why should I be called redbreast, when I am
all grey, from the bill to the very end of my
tail? Why am I called redbreast when I do not
possess one single red feather?"

The bird looked beseechingly on our Lord with
its tiny black eyes — ^then turned its head. About
him he saw pheasants all red under a sprinkle
of gold dust, cocks with red combs, parrots with
marvelous red-neck bands, to say nothing about
the butterflies, the goldfinches and the roses!
And naturally he thought how little he needed —
just one tiny drop of color on his breast — and
he, too, would be a beautiful bird, and not a
misnomer. "Why should I be called redbreast
when I am so entirely grey?" asked the bird
once again, and waited for our Lord to say —
Ah! my friend, I see that I have forgotten to
paint your breast feathers red, but wait a mo-
ment and all shall be done.

But our Lord only smiled a little and said :
"I have called you robin redbreast, and robin
redbreast shall your name be, but you must look
to it that you yourself earn your red breast
feathers." Then our Lord lifted His hand and
let the bird fly once more — out into the world.

ROBIN REDBREAST— BY SELMA LAGERLOF

347

The bird flew down into Paradise, meditating
deeply. What could a little bird like him do to
earn for himself red feathers? The only thing
he could think of was to make his nest in a
brier bush. He built it in among the thorns in
the close thicket. It looked as if he waited for a
roseleaf to cling to his throat and give him color.

Countless years had come and gone since that
day, which was the happiest in all the world!
Human beings had already advanced so far that
they had learned to cultivate the earth and sail
the seas. They had procured clothes and orna-
ments for themselves, and had long since learned
to build big temples and great cities — such as
Thebes, Rome and Jerusalem.

Then there dawned a new day, one that will
long be remembered in the world's history. On
the morning of this day robin redbreast sat
upon a little naked hillock outside of Jerusalem's
walls and sang to his young ones, who lested in
a tiny nest in a brier bush.

Robin redbreast told the little ones all about
that wonderful day of creation, and how the
Lord had given names to everything, just as
each redbreast had told it, ever since the first
redbreast had heard God's word and gone out
of God's hand. "And mark you," he ended sor-
rowfully, "so many years have gone, so many
roses have bloomed, so many little birds have
come out of their eggs since Creation day, but
robin redbreast is still a little grey bird. He
has not yet succeeded in gaining his red feath-
ers."

The young ones opened wide their tiny bills,
and asked if their forbears had never tried to
do any great thing to earn the priceless red
color.

"We have all done what we could," said the
little bird, "but we have all gone amiss. Even
the first robin redbreast met one day another
bird exactly like himself, and he began imme-
diately to love it with such a mighty love that
he could feel his breast glow. Ah! he thought
then, now I understand! It was our Lord's
meaning that I should love with so much ardor
that my breast should grow red in color from
the very warmth of the love that lives in my
heart. But he missed it, as all those who came
after him had missed it, and as even you shall
miss it."

The little ones twittered, utterly bewildered,
and began to mourn because the red color would
not come to beautify their little downy grey
breasts.

"We had also hoped that song would help us,"
said the grown-up bird, speaking in long drawn-
out tones. "The first robin redbreast sang until

his breast swelled within him, he was so carried
away — and he dared to hope anew. Ah! he
thought, It is the glow of the song which lives
in my soul that will color my breast feathers
red. But he missed it, as all the others have
missed it, and as even you shall miss it." Again
was heard a sad "peep" from the young ones'
half-naked throats.

"We had also counted on our courage and our
valor," said the bird. "The first robin redbreast
fought bravely with other birds until his breast
flamed with the pride of conquest. Ah! he
thought, my breast feathers shall become red
from the love of battle which burns in my heart.
He too missed it, as all those who came after
him had missed it, and, as even you shall miss
it." The young ones peeped courageously that
they still wished to try and win the much-sought-
after prize, but the bird answered them sorrow-
fully that it would be impossible. What could
they do when so many splendid ancestors had
missed the mark? What could they do more
than love, sing and fight? What could .

The little bird stopped short in the middle of
the sentence, for out of one of Jerusalem's gates
came a crowd of people marching, and the whole
procession rushed up towards the hillock where
the bird had its nest. There were riders on
proud horses, soldiers with long spears, execu-
tioners with nails and hammers. There were
judges and priests in the procession, weeping
women, and above all a mob of mad, loose people
running about — a filthy, howling mob of loiterers.

The little grey bird sat trembling on the edge
of his nest. He feared each instant that the
little brier bush would be trampled down and
his young ones killed!

"Be careful !" he cried to the little defenceless
young ones, "creep together and remain quiet.
Here comes a horse that will ride right over us!
Here comes a warrior with iron-shod sandals !
Here comes the whole wild, storming mob!"
Immediately the bird ceased his cry of warning
and grew calm and quiet. He almost forgot
the danger hovering over him. Finally he hopped
down into his nest and spread his wings over
the young ones.

"Oh! this is too terrible," said he; "I don't
want you to witness this awful sight ! There
are three miscreants who are going to be cruci-
fied!" And he spread his wings so the little
ones could see nothing.

They caught only the sound of hammers, the
cries of anguish and the wild shrieks of the mob.

Robin redbreast followed the whole spectacle
with his eyes, which grew big with terror. He
could not take his glance from the three un-
fortunate!.

348

CURRENT LITERATURE

"How terrible human beings are !" said the
bird after a little. "It isn't enough that they
should nail these poor creatures to a cross, but
they must needs place a crown of piercing thorns
on the head of one of them. I see that the
thorns have wounded his brow so that the blood
flows," he continued. "And this man is so
beautiful — and he looks about him with such
mild glances that every one ought to love him.
I feel as if an arrow were shooting through my
heart when I see him suffer !"

The little bird began to feel a stronger and
stronger pity for the thorn-crowned sufferer.
Oh ! if I were only my brother the eagle, thought
he, I would draw the nails from his hands, and
with my strong claws I would drive away all
those who torture him. He saw how the blood
trickled down, from the brow of the crucified
one, and he could no longer remain quiet in
his nest. Even if I am little and weak, I can
still do something for this poor tortured one —
thought the bird. Then he left his nest and flew
out into the air, striking wide circles around
the crucified one. He flew about him several
times without daring to approach, for he was a

shy little bird who had never dared to go near
a human being. But little by little he gained
courage, flew close to him and drew with his
little bill a thorn that had become imbedded in
the brow of the crucified one. And as he did
this there fell on his breast a drop of blood from
the face of the crucified one. It spread quickly
and colored all the little thin breast feathers.

Then the crucified one opened his lips and
whispered to the bird : "Because of thy com-
passion, thou hast won all that thy kind have
been striving after ever since the world was
created."

As soon as the bird had' returned to his nest
his young ones cried to him: "Thy breast is red,
thy breast feathers are redder than the roses !"

"It is only a drop of blood from the poor
man's forehead," said the bird. "It will vanish
as soon as I bathe in a pool or a clear well."

But no matter how much the little bird bathed,
the red color did not vanish. And when his
little ones grew up, the blood-red color shone
also on their breast feathers, just as it shines
on every robin redbreast's throat and breast
until this very day.

Don Caesar's Adventure — By Victor Hugo

This humorous skit has never before, so far as we know, been published in English. It is taken
from one of the author's note-books as published in the complete edition of his works in France. It
is not, of course, a finished product, but a mere sketch or memorandum designed for future use.

[Madrid. A street in the suburbs.']

Don C^sar — The son of a beggar woman and
a captain, draped for twenty years in a
fustian clout, the color of which was never known
even to himself; academician, spy and thief, an
ornament of Helicon.

Don CcFsar: In what was once my pocket and
is_ now a hole, not the meanest farthing jingles
with a sou ! Your music, O sequins, is better than
that of the zither or the lute! A most sinister
situation — that of the mortal who has no sequins
in his rags! Nothing else resembles their gay
music.

(Don Caesar pauses in his tatters. Then ap-
pears a passer-by magnificently clad, who has a
hurried and restless air. Don Ccssar in his rags
confronts him and admires his splendor, indulg-
ing in a curious monolog. The passer-by returns
his greeting, then addresses him.)

Passer-by: Let us change clothes.

Don Ccesar (with amazement) : What!

Passer-by: How much will you sell me your
costume for?

Don Ccesar (looking at his rags) : A costum«,
this!

Passer-by: Name your price.

Don CcBsar (showing his vest) : This is a
posthumous doublet. Yesterday it existed ; to-
day it is dead. The hideous blasts bite me
through this cloak, and I can see the stars
through mine ancient hat.

Passer-by: Come, how many crowns do you
want ? Speak !

Don Ccesar: What ! crowns into the bargain !

(He consents in joyous amazement. The
passer-by begins to strip Don Ccesar in feverish
haste.)

Don Ccesar: Take care! You are unveiling
my nudity to the startled people, and in despite
of my weeping modesty.

(They change clothes. Ccesar becomes a lord
and the passer-by a beggar.)

Don Ccesar (gazing upon the passer-by in
rags) : How frightful I looked !

(The passer-by disappears. Don Ccesar takes
a few steps, strutting about in his Une clothes.
Enter a force of soldiery who surround him.)

Soldiers: Ah! here he is! 'Tis he! Assassin!
Follow us, dog !

Don Ccesar: Sirs, this is a mistake. But what
of it? It is an adventure, and I accept it.

(The gentleman with whom Don Caesar had
exchanged clothes was a man who had been con-
demned to death and had escaped from prison
on the eve of the day set for his execution. Don
Caesar's denial was in vain, and he was impris-
oned. A beautiful, rich and noble woman offers
him her hand. Astonishment of Don Caesar. All
is explained. The beautiful woman wishes a
husband as a step towards being a widow, a
charming state. A gentleman about to be hanged
will suit her perfectly.)

LITERATURE AND ART

349

Hamlet and Don Quixote

{Continued from page 293)

Dulcinea.") He loves purely, ideally; so ideally
that he does not even suspect that the object
of his passion does not exist at all; so purely
that, when Dulcinea appears before him in the
guise of a rough and dirty peasant-woman, he
trusts not the testimony of his eyes, and regards
her as transformed by some evil wizard.

I myself have seen in my life, on my wander-
ings, people who laid down their lives for equally
non-existent Dulcineas or for a vulgar and often-
times filthy something or other, in which they
saw the realization of their ideal, and whose
transformation they likewise attributed to evil —
I almost said bewitching — events and persons.
I have seen them, and when their like shall cease
to exist, then let the book of history be closed
forever : there will be nothing in it to read about.
Of sensuality there is not even a trace in Don
Quixote. All his thoughts are chaste and in-
nocent, and in the secret depths of his heart he
hardly hopes for an ultimate union with Dul-
cinea,— indeed, he almost dreads such a union.

And does Hamlet really love? Has his ironic
creator, a most profound judge of the human
heart, really determined to give this egotist, this
skeptic, saturated with every decomposing poison
of self-analysis, a loving and devout heart?
Shakespeare did not fall into this contradiction;
and it does not cost the attentive reader much
pains to convince himself that Hamlet is a sen-
sual man, and even secretly voluptuous. (It is
not for nothing that the courtier Rosencrantz
smiles slily when Hamlet says in his hearing that
he is tired of women.) Hamlet does not love,
I say, but only pretends — and mawkishly — that
he loves. On this we have the testimony of
Shakespeare himself. In the first scene of the
third act- Hamlet says to Ophelia : "I did love
you once." Then ensues the colloquy:

Ophelia: Indeed, my lord, you made me be-
lieve so.

Hamlet: You should not have believed me
. . . I loved you not.

And having uttered this last word, Hamlet is
much nearer the truth than he supposed. His
feelings for Ophelia — an innocent creature, pure
as a saintess — are either cynical (recollect his
words, his equivocal allusions, when, in the scene
representing the theater, he asks her permission
to lie . . . in her lap), or else hollow (direct
your attention to the scene between him and
Laertes, when Hamlet jumps into Ophelia's grave
and says, in language worthy of Bramarbas or
of Captain Pistol: "Forty thousand brothers
could not, with all their quantity of love, make

up my sum. . . . Let them throw millions of
acres on us,"- etc.).

All his relations with OpheHa are for Hamlet
only the occasions for preoccupation with his
own self, and in his exclamation, "O, Nymph !
in thy orisons be all my sins remembered !" we
see but the deep consciousness of his own sickly
inanition, a lack of strength to love, on the part
of the almost superstitious worshiper before
"the Saintess of Chastity."

But enough has been said of the dark sides of
the Hamlet type, of those phases which irritate
us most because they are nearer and more fa-
miliar to us. I will endeavor to appreciate what-
ever may be legitimate in him, and therefore en-
during. Hamlet embodies the doctrine of nega-
tion, that same doctrine which another great poet
has divested of everything human and presented
in the form of Mephistopheles. Hamlet is the
self-same Mephistopheles, but a Mephistopheles
embraced by the living circle of human nature :
hence his negation is not an evil, but is itself
directed against evil. Hamlet casts doubt upon
goodness, but does not question the existence of
evil ; in fact, he wages relentless war upon it.
He entertains suspicions concerning the genuine-
ness and sincerity of good; yet his attacks are
made not upon goodness, but upon a counterfeit
goodness, beneath whose mask are secreted evil
and falsehood, its immemorial enemies. He does
not laugh the diabolic, impersonal laughter of
Mephistopheles ; in his bitterest smile there is
pathos, which tells of his sufferings and there-
fore reconciles us to him. Hamlet's skepticism,
moreover, is not indifferentism, and in this con-
sists his significance and merit. In his makeup
good and evil, truth and falsehood, beauty and
ugliness, are not blurred into an accidental, dumb
and vague something or other. The skepticism
of Hamlet, which leads him to distrust things
contemporaneous, — the realization of truth, so to
speak, — is irreconcilably at war with falsehood,
and through this very quality he becomes one
of the foremost champions of a truth in which
he himself cannot fully believe. But m nega-
tion, as in fire, there is a destructive force, and
how can we keep it within bounds or show ex-
actly where it is to stop, when that which it
must destroy and that which it should spare are
frequently blended and bound up together in-
separably? This is where the oft-observed trag-
edy of human life comes into evidence : doing
presupposes thinking, but thought and the will
have separated, and are separating daily more
and more. "And thus the native hue of resolu-
tion is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of
thought," Shakespfeare tells us in the words of
Hamlet

350

CURRENT LITERATURE

And so, on the one side stand the Hamlets —
reflective, conscientious, often all-comprehensive,
but as often also useless and doomed to immo-
bility; and on the other the half-crazy Don
Quixotes, who help and influence mankind only
to the extent that they see but a single point —
often non-existent in the form they see it. Un-
willingly the questions arise : Must one really
be a lunatic to believe in the truth? And, must
the mind that has obtained control of itself lose,
therefore, all its power?

We should be led very far indeed even by a
superficial consideration of these questions.

I shall confine myself to the remark that in
this separation, in this dualism which I have
mentioned, we should recognize a fundamental
law of all human life. This life is nothing else
than an eternal struggle and everlasting recon-
cilement of two ceaselessly diverging and con-
tinually uniting elements. If I did not fear start-
ling your ears with philosophical terms, I would
venture to say that the Hamlets are an expres-
sion of the fundamental centripetal force of na-
ture, in accordance with which every living thing
considers itself the center of creation and looks
down upon everything else as existing for its
sake. Thus the mosquito that settled on the
forehead of Alexander the Great, in calm con-
fidence of its right, fed on his blood as food
which belonged to it; just so Hamlet, though
he scorns himself — a thing the mosquito does
not do, not having risen to this level, — always
takes everything on his own account. Without
this centripetal force — the force of egotism — na-
ture could no more exist than without the other,
the centrifugal force, according to whose law
everything exists only for something else. This
force, the principle of devotion and self-sacrifice,
illuminated, as I have already stated, by a comic
light, is represented by the Don Quixotes. These
two forces of inertia and motion, of conserva-
tism and progress, are the fundamental forces of
all existing things. They explain to us the
growth of a little flower; they give us a key
to the understanding of the development of the
most powerful peoples.

I hasten to pass from these perhaps irrelevant
speculations to other considerations more fa-
miliar to us.

I know that, of all Shakespeare's works, "Ham-
let" is perhaps the most popular. This tragedy
belongs to the list of plays that never fail to
crowd the theater. In view of the modem at-
titude of our public and its aspiration toward
self-consciousness and reflection, its scruples
about itself and its buoyancy of spirit, this phe-
nomenon is clear. But, to say nothing of the
beauties in which this most excellent expression

of the modern spirit abounds, one cannot help
marveling at the master-genius who, tho him-
self in many respects akin to his Hamlet, cleft
him from himself by a free sweep of creative
force, and set up his model for the lasting study
of posterity. The spirit which created this model
is that of a northern man, a spirit of meditation
and analysis, a spirit heavy and gloomy, devoid
of harmony and bright color, not rounded into
exquisite, oftentimes shallow, forms ; but deep,
strong, varied, independent, and guiding. Out
of his very bosom he has plucked the type of
Hamlet; and in so doing has shown that, in the
realm of poetry, as in- other spheres of human
life, he stands above his child, because he fully
understands it.

The spirit of a southerner went into the crea-
tion of Don Quixote, a spirit light and merry,
naive and impressionable, — one that does not
enter into the mysteries of life, that reflects phe-
nomena rather than comprehends them.

At this point I cannot resist the desire, not to
draw a parallel between Shakespeare and Cer-
vantes, but simply to indicate a few points of
likeness and of diflFerence. Shakespeare and
Cervantes — how can there be any comparison?
some will ask. Shakespeare, that giant, that
demigod ! . . . Yes, but Cervantes is not a
pigmy beside the giant who created "King Lear."
He is a man — a man to the full ; and a man
has the right to stand on his feet even before
a demigod. Undoubtedly Shakespeare presses
hard upon Cervantes — and not him alone — by the
wealth and power of his imagination, by the
brilliancy of his greatest poetry, by the depth
and breadth of a colossal mind. But then you
will not find in Cervantes' romance any strained
witticisms or unnatural comparisons or feigned
concepts; nor will you meet in his pages with
decapitations, picked eyes, and those streams of
blood, that dull and iron cruelty, which are the
terrible heirloom of the Middle Ages, and are
disappearing less rapidly in obstinate northern
natures. And yet Cervantes, like Shakespeare,
lived in the epoch that witnessed St. Barthol-
omew's night; and long after that time heretics
were burned and. blood continued to flow — shall
it ever cease to flow? "Don Quixote" reflects
the Middle Ages, if only in the provincial poetry
and narrative grace of those romances which
Cervantes so good-humoredly derided, and to
which he himself paid the last tribute in "Per-
siles and Sigismunda." Shakespeare takes his
models from everywhere — from heaven and
earth, — he knows no limitations ; nothing can
escape his all-pervading glance. He seizes his
subjects with irresistible power, like an eagle
pouncing upon its pfey. Ceryantes presents his

LITERATURE AND ART

351

not over-numerous characters to his readers gen-
tly, as a father his children. He takes only
what is close to him, but with that how familiar
he is ! Everything human seems subservient to
the mighty English poet ; Cervantes draws his
wealth from his own heart only — a heart sunny,
kind, and rich in life's experience, but not hard-
ened by it. It was not in vain that during seven
years of hard bondage* Cervantes was learning,
as he himself said, the science of patience. The
circle of his experience is narrower than Shakes-
peare's, but in that, as in every separate living
person, is reflected all that is human. Cervantes
does not dazzle you with thvmdering words ; he
does not shock you with the titanic force of
triumphant inspiration; his poetry — sometimes
turbid, and by no means Shakespearean — is like
a deep river, rolling calmly between variegated
banks ; and the reader, gradually allured, then
hemmed in on every side by its transparent
waves, cheerfully resigns himself to the truly
epic calm and fluidity of its course.

The imagination gladly evokes the figures of
these two contemporary poets, who died on the
very same day, the 26th of April, 1616.* Cer-
vantes probably knew nothing of Shakespeare,
but the great tragedian in the quietude of his
Stratford home, whither he had retired for the
three years preceding his death, could have read
through the famous novel, which had already
been translated into English. A picture worthy
of the brush of a contemplative artist — Shakes-
peare reading "Don Quixote !" Fortunate are
the countries where such men arise, teachers of
their generation and of posterity. The unfading
wreath with which a great man is crowned rests
also upon the brow of his people.

A certain English Lord — a good judge in the
matter — once spoke in my hearing of Don
Quixote as a model of a real gentleman. Surely,
if simplicity and a quiet demeanor are the dis-
tinguishing marks of what we call a thorough
gentleman, Don Quixote has a good claim to his
title. He is a veritable hidalgo, — a hidalgo even
when the jeering servants of the prince are lath-
ering his whole face. The simplicity of his man-
ners proceeds from the absence of what I would
venture to call his self-love, and not his self-
conceit. Don Quixote is not busied with him-
self, and, respecting himself and others, does
not think of showing off. But Hamlet, with all
his exquisite setting, is, it seems to me, — excuse
the French expression — ayant des airs de par-
venu; he is troublesome — at times even rude, —
and he poses and scoffs. To make up for this,

•Recent biographies of Cervantes give the period of his
captivity as Hve years, and the date of his death April
23rd. — Translator.

he was given the power of original and apt ex-
pression, a power inherent in every being in
whom is implanted the habit of reflection and
self-development — and therefore utterly unat-
tainable so far as Don Quixote is concerned.
The depth and keenness of analysis in Hamlet,
his many-sided education (we must not forget
that he studied at the Wittenberg University),
have developed in him a taste almost unerring.
He is an excellent critic; his advice to the
actors is strikingly true and judicious. The sense
of the beautiful is as strong in him as the sense
of duty in Don Quixote.

Don Quixote deeply respects all existing or-
ders^— religions, monarchs, and dukes — and is at
the same time free himself and recognizes the
freedom of others. Hamlet rebukes kings and
courtiers, but is in reality oppressive and in-
tolerant.

Don Quixote is hardly literate ; Hamlet probably
kept a diary. Don Quixote, with all his igno-
rance, has a definite way of thinkingabout matters
of government and administration ; Hamlet has
neither time nor need to think of such matters.

Many have objected to the endless blows with
which Cervantes burdens Don Quixote. I have
already remarked that in the second part of the
romance the poor knight is almost unmolested.
But I will add that, without these beatings, he
would be less pleasing to children, who read his
adventures with such avidity ; and to us grown-
ups he would not appear in his true light, but
rather in a cold and haughty aspect, which would
be incompatible with his character. Another
interesting point is involved here. At the very
end of the romance, after Don Quixote's com-
plete discomfiture by the Knight of the White
Moon, the disguised college bachelor, and fol-
lowing his renunciation of knight-errantry, short-
ly before his death, a herd of swine trample him
under foot. I once happened to hear Cervantes
criticized for writing this, on the ground that
he was repeating the old tricks already aban-
doned; but herein Cervantes was guided by the
instinct of genius, and this very ugly incident
has a deep meaning. The trampling under pigs'
feet is always encountered in the lives of Don
Quixotes, and just before their close. This is
the last tribute they must pay to rough chance,
to indifference and cruel misunderstanding; it
is the slap in the face from the Pharisees. Then
they can die. They have passed through all the
fire of the furnace, have won immortality for
themselves, and it opens before them.

Hamlet is occasionally double-faced and heart-
less. Think of how he planned the deaths of the
two courtiers sent to England by the king. Re-
call his speech on Polonius, whom he murdered.

352

CURRENT LITERATURE

In this, however, we see, as akeady observed, a
reflection of the medieval spirit recently out-
grown. On the other hand, we must note in
the honest, veracious Don Quixote the disposi-
tion to a half-conscious, half-innocent deception,
to self-delusion — a disposition almost always
present in the fancy of an enthusiast. His ac-
count of what he saw in the cave of Montesinos
was obviously invented by him, and did not de-
ceive the smart commoner, Sancho' Panza.

Hamlet, on the slightest ill-success, loses heart
and complains; but Don Quixote, pummelled
senseless by galley slaves, has not the least doubt
as to the success of his undertaking. In the
same spirit Fourier is said to have gone to his
office every day, for many years, to meet an
Englishman he had invited, through the news-
papers, to furnish him with a million francs to
carry out his plans ; but, of course, the bene-
factor of his dreams never appeared. This was
certainly a very ridiculous proceeding, and it
calls to mind this thought: The ancients con-
sidered their gods jealous, and, in case of need,
deemed it useful to appease them by voluntary
offerings (recollect the ring cast into the sea by
Polycrates) ; why, then, should we not believe
that some share of the ludicrous must inevitably
be mingled with the acts, with the very charac-
ter, of people moved unto great and novel deeds,
— as a bribe, as a soothing offering, to the jealous
gods? Without these comical crank-pioneers,
mankind could not progress, and there would
not be anything for the Hamlets to reflect upon.

The Don Quixotes discover; the Harnlets de-
velop. But how, I shall be asked, can the Ham-
lets evolve anything when they doubt all things
and believe in nothing? My rejoinder is that,
by a wise dispensation of Nature, there are
neither thoro Hamlets nor complete Don Quix-
otes; these are but extreme manifestations of
two tendencies — guide-posts set up by the poets
on two different roads. Life tends toward them,
but never reaches the goal. We must not forget
that, just as the principle of analysis is carried
in Hamlet to tragedy, so the element of enthu-
siasm runs in Don Quixote to comedy; but in
life, the purely comic and the purely tragic are
seldom encountered.

Hamlet gains much in our estimation from
Horatio's attachment for him. This character
is excellent, and is frequently met with in our
day, to the credit of the times. In Horatio I
recognize the type of the disciple, the pupil, in
the best sense of the word. With a stoical and
direct nature, a warm heart, and a somewhat
limited understanding, he is aware of his short-
comings, and is modest — something .rare in peo-
ple of limited intellect. He thirsts for learning,

for instruction, and therefore venerates the wise
Hamlet, and is devoted to him with all the might,
of his honest heart, not demanding even recipro-
cation. He defers to Hamlet, not as to a prince
but as to a chief. One of the most important
services of the Hamlets consists in forming and
developing persons like Horatio; persons who,
having received from them the seeds of thought,
fertilize them in their hearts, and then scatter
them broadcast through the world. The words
in which Hamlet acknowledges Horatio's worth,
honor himself. In them is expressed his own
conception of the great worth of Man, his noble
aspirations, which no skepticism is strong enough
to weaken.

"Give me that man
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of hearts.
As I do thee."

The honest skeptic always respects a stoic.
When the ancient world had crumbled away —
and in every epoch like unto that — the best peo-
ple took refuge in stoicism as the only creed in
which it was still possible to preserve man's dig-
nity. The skeptics, if they lacked the strength
to die — to betake themselves to the "undiscov-
ered country from whose bourn no traveler re-
turns,"— turned epicureans ; a plain, sad phe-
nomenon, with which we are but too familiar.

Both Hamlet and Don Quixote die a touching
death ; and yet how different are their ends !
Hamlet's last words are sublime. He resigns
himself, grows calm, bids Horatio live, and
raises his dying voice in behalf of young Fortin-
bras, the unstained representative of the right
of succession. Hamlet's eyes are not turned
forward. "The rest is silence," says the dying
skeptic, as he actually becomes silent forever.
The death of Don Quixote sends an inexpressible
emotion through one's heart. In that instant the
full significance of this personality is accessible
to all. When his former page, trying to comfort
Don Quixote, tells him that they shall soon again
start out on an expedition of knight-errantry,
the expiring knight replies : "No, all is now
over forever, and I ask everyone's forgiveness;
I am no longer Don Quixote, I am again Alonzo
the good, as I was once called — Alonso el Bueno."

This word is remarkable. The mention of this
nickname for the first and last time makes the
reader tremble. Yes, only this single word still
has a meaning, in the face of death. All things
shall pass away, everything shall vanish — the
highest station, power, the all-inclusive genius, —
all to dust shall crumble. "All earthly greatness
vanishes like smoke." But noble deeds are more en-
during than resplendent beauty. "Everything shall
pass," the apostle said, "love alone shall endure."

A REASONABLE OPTIMIST

"Life in Washington," says William H. Taft, Secretary of War, in his recent Yale lectures, "leads most men
who are impartial and who take broad views of affairs to a condition of reasonable optimism as to the progress toward
better things. . . . It is not unfair to say that there is a high standard of morality and public conduct throughout
all the departments and the legislative and executive branches of the Government."

Current Literature

Edward J. Wheeler, Editor
VOL XLII, No. 4 Associate Editors : Leonard D. Abbott, Alexander Harvey

Qeorge S. Vlereck

APRIL, 1907

A Review of the World

DRAMATIC encounter took place
several weeks ago in the city of
Washington. The persons of the
drama were President Roosevelt, J.
Pierpont Morgan, Henry H. Rogers and Sen-
ator Foraker. The scene of the encounter
was the Gridiron Club, and no complete re-
port has been published of the affair; but it is
known that the President, in the course of a
speech, addressed himself directly to Mr Mor-
gan and Mr. Rogers, and in passionate tones
warned them that if the efforts of the federal
government to enforce the rights of the public
against the railroads are blocked the railroad
officials will find themselves face to face with
an angry people, and may be forced to reckon
with the mob instead of with the government.
It was a case of "shirt-sleeve diplomacy," and
it was as effective as ever a case of such
diplomacy has been. A few days later, in the
city of New York, at the Metropolitan Club,
another earnest meeting was held behind
closed doors, attended, according to the New
York American, by Mr. Morgan, Mr. Bel-
mont, Mr. Harriman, Mr. Rogers, Mr. SchifT,
Mr. George Gould, Mr. Vanderlip, Mr. Kahn
and others, and the alarming situation of the
railroads was talked over. Paul Morton, ex-
secretary of the treasury and now president
of the Equitable Life, was induced, as the re-
sult of the conference, to make arrangements
with President Roosevelt for an interview
with Mr. Morgan. The latter, in turn, sug-
gested that the President receive four of the
principal railroad presidents of the country, —
McCrea of the Pennsylvania, Newman of the
New York Central, Mellen of the New York
& New Haven, and Hughitt of the North-
western. For some time prior to this, railway
financiers had been trooping to the White
House with unsatisfactory results. Among
them had been, in addition to Mr. Morgan,

Mr. Rogers, Mr. Harriman, Mr. Ryan, Mr.
Archbold and others. Where the financiers
had failed it was hoped that the executive
heads of the roads might succeed. But the
executive heads have developed a marked re-
luctance about making their visit.

A LREADY a taste of what the President
■**■ had been predicting was being experi-
enced by the railway officials. There were no
mobs running around with halters and rope,
but, what was almost as bad, there was a score
of state legislatures in which two-cent-fare
bills were waving ominously in the air. The
visit of the four railway presidents to the
White House was desired not to threaten
the President, but to plead for his protection.
At least such is the interpretation that finds
general favor in the press. In the legislature
of New York State, according to the New
York Herald, there are no bills pending on
the subject of railroads, and the most popular
of them all seem to be bills compelling a
two-cent fare. In the Texas legislature there
are pending eighty-three anti-railroad bills.
Five other states have already enacted two-
cent-fare laws, and three others have enacted
laws for two-and-a-half cent fare. In many
other legislatures such laws were well on
the way to enactment. In nearly every state
of the Union, in fact, laws restrictive of rail-
roads and other corporations, but especially
railroads, have been introduced in the legis-
latures. There was evidently an epidemic
raging. Wall Street became aware of it, and
the sound of dull heavy thuds has been heard
in the Stock Exchange as prices came crashing
down. Great Northern, which sold last Decem-
ber as high as 320, sold a few days ago as low
as 132; Northern Pacific tumbled in the same
time from 225 to 115; Union Pacific, from 188
to 120; Chicago & Northwestern from 211 to

354

CURRENT LITERATURE

Photocraph by Underwood & Underwood

MR. HARRIMAN IN THE OPEN
The testimony of Edward H. Harriman before the Interstate Commerce Commission last month in New York
City was of sensational interest, and will, it is thought, have an important effect upon state and federal legisla-
tion. Mr. Harriman is on the extreme right of the picture. The members of the Commission are (from left to
right) : Messrs. Lane, Clements, Knapp, Prouty ana Harlan.

148. A "rich man's panic" was clearly in
sight, and then the words of Theodore the
prophet came to mind. Says the Washington
correspondent of the New York Times:

"Washington realizes now that Mr. Harriman
was the bearer of the first flag of truce from the
railroads to the President, seeking to arrange
terms of honorable capitulation. Mr. Morgan
came last night with unconditional surrender. He
had been preceded a few minutes by B. F.
Yoakum, of the Rock Island, who had an argu-
ment to make for Federal legislation beyond the
widest reach of anything that had ever been pro-
posed by the President, a proposition that Con-

gress, in controlling interstate commerce, can also
regulate every railroad in the country. . . .

"It took the flood of restrictive bills in the
legislatures of fifteen or twenty states to open
the eyes of the railroad men to the real state of
public opinion. Then for the first time they
realized, and suddenly, that Mr. Roosevelt's
schemes for Federal legislation were very far
from being the worst thing they had to face.
They began to see that, after all, there might be
something in what he has been saying for several
years, that Federal regulation of railroads was the
only means of staying such a storm of restrictive
measures by the states as would make the work of
Congress nothing but a summer breeze beside it."

PRESENT EXTENT OF HARRIMAN'S RAILROAD DOMAIN
Over the roads indicated by the heaviest lines he is in supreme control; over those indicated by medium
heavy lines his is the dominant influence; over the dotted lines he has a very considerable influence, but not (yet)
a dominant influence.

THE PANIC OF THE RAILROADS

355

James McCrea succeeded Mr. Cassatt a few months Marvin Hugffitt has been for twenty years the pres-

ago as president of the Pennsylvania. ident of the Chicago & Northwestern.

TWO RELUCTANT RAILROAD PRESIDENTS WHO DON'T CARE TO GO TO THE WHITE HOUSE

And all this change
of heart has taken
place within the last
two months !

■yHAT the railway
■*■ men are thoroly
alarmed over the situa-
tion is indicated by a
hundred signs. The
warnings which one
after another of them
has uttered in the last
few weeks have the un-
mistakable note of an-
xiety, if not of repent-
ance. George J Gould
states that the Missouri
Pacific has had to sus-
pend many large op-
erations in the way of
improvements because
of the difficulty in rais-
ing money in the present market. He says:

"If this sort of thin? is continued, a great busi-
ness depression will result all over the
country. . . . The policy of the administra-
tion in Washington and that of many states is
effectually destroying the credit of the big trans-
portation companies The sale of bonds has al-
ready become almost impossible. Note issues are
as difficult. In fact, the roads do not know where
to turn to get money for necessary extensions
and improvements, and unleso some change is
effected all development will be arrested."

Practically the same cry comes from presi-
dent after president. Mr. Garrett of the Sea-

Charles S. Mellen, formerly president of the Northern
Pacific, now of the New York, New Haven & Hartford.

ONE RAILROAD PRESIDENT WHO DID

board Air Line says:
"It may mean that
many of the railroads
will pass into the hands
of receivers unless these
penalties are modified.
For the seven months
of the present fiscal
year the Seaboard Air
Line has not been able
to make expenses and
meet interest on its
bonds." And President
Stickney, of the Chi-
cago Great Western,
who has been all along
a defender of President
Roosevelt's program,
says of the course be-
ing pursued by state
legislatures : "The peo-
ple are now laying the
foundation firm and
strong for a tremendous panic." He adds:

"I am in favor of all that President Roosevelt,
by his public acts, stands for up to this time in re-
spect to the regulation of railroads and their rates,
but the legislatures of the different states have
taken the matter up where the President left off,
and seem to be vying with each other to reduce
rates and make other regulations in regard to
the methods of conducting railroad business
which are entirely inconsistent with each other
and the regulation of the federal government.
This has brought about a condition of affairs
which threatens disaster in the immediate future.
The railways already are finding the greatest
difficulty in obtaining sufficient capital to complete

356

CURRENT LITERATURE

the improvements now under way and to pay for
additional rolling stock which has already been
contracted for."

Substantially the same view of the situation
is advanced by Messrs. Harriman, Hill, Baer,
Truesdale, Laree and others.

"VVTHO is to blame for this serious situation?
W xhe railway men have been pretty
nearly unanimous, until very recently, in lay-
ing the whole blame upon the President, the
"muckrakers" and the state legislatures. The
press is pretty nearly unanimous in laying the
blame upon the railways themselves, and es-
pecially upon the railway financiers. Since
the delivery of Mr. Harriman's testimony be-
fore the Interstate Commerce Commission last
month, in New York City, this view has
been reiterated with new bitterness, and Mr.
Harriman himself, as well as other railway
officials, has been forced to admit that the
railways are at least partly to blame for the
popular hostility now being shown in all the
states. The New York Evening Post quotes
the president of a large Western system, whose
name is not given, as saying that Mr. Harri-
man's testimony "has done more harm in the
West than anything that has happened in
many years," three-fourths of the hostile leg-
islation being due to that cause. Congress-
man Hepburn, chairman of the House Com-
mittee on Interstate and Foreign Commerce,
is quoted as saying:

"I believe that Mr. Harriman is the living jus-
tification of all the railroad legislation that we
have enacted, and all that we have attempted to
enact, and that, by his own admissions, we should
have passed laws much more drastic than we did
pass. If I understand the testimony of Mr. Har-
riman and his associates, it is possible, under
our present financial system, for one man to in-
crease the indebtedness of a railroad corporation
by $92,000,000 without adding to it one cent's
worth of visible property. If it is not high time
that such a condition of affairs should be ended,
it seems to me that no evil under the sun should
be corrected."

AT A meeting of stockholders of the Wells-
Fargo Express Company, some months
ago, Mr. Cromwell, one of Mr. Harriman's
lawyers, impressively stated that Mr. Harri-
man, in his large financial schemes, moves "in
a higher sphere, where we cannot follow
him." Some of his movements in that "higher
sphere" can now be followed, owing to his
testimony, and perhaps the most interesting
of them all was the manipulation of the Chi-
cago & Alton by him and three associates,
namely George Gould, Mortimer Schiflf and
James Stillman. In 1899 the Chicago &

Alton had a good reputation for conserva-
tive management, low capitalization and the
payment of good dividends. In that year
these four gentlemen secured 97 per cent, of
the stock of the road by purchase, and pro-
ceeded to do things. They first placed a mort-
gage on the road for $40,000,000, altho the
entire capitalization of the road had been but
$22,000,000. This mortgage was to secure
three per cent, bonds which they issued, sell-
ing $32,000,000 of them to themselves at 65.
Then they began to unload these bonds on
the public. About $10,000,000 of them were
sold to the New York Life at 96. About
$1,000,000 went to the Equitable Life at 92,
Mr. Harriman being at that time a director
of the Equitable. Many more were sold in
the open market at from 88 to 96. Then the
quartet proceeded to declare a 30 per cent,
dividend on the stock, taking the money for
it out of the proceeds of the bonds which they
had sold to themselves. Then by various de-
vices they increased the capital stock, so that
at the end of six years the liabilities of the
company had been increased by about $90,000,-
000, at least two-thirds of this being nothing
but water. One of the minor transactions was
the purchase by them, as individuals, of a
small road for $1,000,000, and the sale of the
same road to themselves as a holding com-
pany for $3,000,000. The profits of the four
men on these manipulations amounted to $24,-
000,000, in addition to the salary of $100,000
a year paid to Mr. Harriman as chief manip-
ulator. Of course the whole success of the
transactions depended upon inducing the pub-
lic to purchase the stocks and bonds thus
manufactured, and in that they were success-
ful, partly because of the high credit the road
had had and partly because of their own per-
sonal reputation.

THIS Chicago & Alton story is the part of
Mr. Harriman's testimony that has had
the most sensational eflfect upon the country
at large. Says the Springfield Republican:

"Here we have 'high finance' with a vengeance.
Here we have a pretty fair example of that 'con-
structive genius' in industry whose value to the
country is so highly rated by tainted money edu-
cators and those generally who are proud of the
privilege of being allowed to roll around under
the tables of the swollen fortunes, that millions
of dollars per individual are considered not too
high a price to pay for it. To the common eye
it would appear that this series of transactions
had been conceived in iniquity and carried out in
fraud all along the line."

The New York Sun speaks of the story as
one "which has not only astounded this com-

THE STORY MR. HARRIMAN TOLD

357

-<»ii>liUI«i<\<«' *"''»'« lill'*'««»«»i««Uteii»itHW»rMiti>>iiHi^,nti|iMlllii|»t''"«"'*MiMi«i|il<>|iii»iq«»>t<»«»«»»««»»«*'p»Mt«»t»i.»^ttt^,„^

SUGGESTED AS A COMPANION TO THE "WASHINGTON PRAYING" TABLET PUT IN PLACE ON THE

SUB-TREASURY BUILDING FEB. 22.

— Macauley in N. Y. World.

munity, but which must, in its extraordinary
revelations, cause grave alarm and even con-
sternation throughout the civilized world."
And yet Mr. Harriman, in a notable interview
given to the New York Times, a few days
later, complains because this inquiry of the
Interstate Commerce Commission had checked
^^^ flow of foreign capital into our railway

securities! Evidently if Mr. Harriman could
capitalize his nerve he would not need to do
anything more to reach the highest goal of his
financial hopes !

V/ET there are not lacking voices in the way

* of apology for Mr. Harriman. The

Chicago Post stands alone, however, so far

358

CURRENT LITERATURE

of the roads in question, and it is incontrovertibly
true that all those roads in every respect are
many times more prosperous than when Mr. Har-
riman took hold of them."

ALL TAKING A SHOT

— Williams in Phila. Ledger.

as we have noted, in
making what seems to
be a general defense
of his career. It says:

"It should be remem-
bered that the inquiry in
progress is an ex-parte
one. No opportunity is
given the witnesses to
state the why and the
wherefore of their do-
ings, or of bringing out
in striking contrast the
results that have fol-
lowed the execution of
the plans adopted- for
the carrying out of their
purposes.

"In all other lines of
business but that of rail-
road operation pre-eminent success is regarded
as worthy of the highest praise and emulation,
but let a man distinguish himself by his marked
success in the railroad field, and public opinion
is so aroused that he is forthwith set down as a
highwayman or a bandit. While it is true that
Mr. Harriman and the other members of the syn-
dicates that have been working with him in his
several railroad deals may have made millions
out of their deals in railroad securities, it is
equally true that every interest in the territory
tributary to the roads in question has profited
directly to a still greater extent by the develop-
ment of the roads, the affairs of which are now
undergoing investigation. As a matter of fact it
has not yet been shown that a single individual
or a single interest has suffered to the extent of
a penny out of an5rthing that has been done in
connection with the manipulation of the affairs

EVEN among the members of the Inter-
state Commerce Commission Mr. Harri-
man is not regarded, according to the New
York Times, as a wrecker of railroads. His
proceedings in the case of the Chicago & Al-
ton did not wreck the road or impair its earn-
ing power. Whatever injury was done was
not to the road itself, but to the public that
purchased the cheapened securities. The New
York Commercial has no doubt as to the
moral obliquity of the proceedings, and it
points out that Mr. Harriman was a member
of the Frick committee appointed some time
ago by the Equitable Life to investigate its
affairs, and especially to probe into just such
transactions as the purchase of $1,000,000 of
Chicago & Alton stock. That committee,
while censuring severely the "moral ob-
liqueness" of the society's management for
many other similar transactions, entirely over-
looked this sale by Mr. Harriman of stock
which he had sold to
himself at 65, and then
to the society of which
he was a director at 92.
A view of the case that
finds wide utterance is
thus expressed in the
Cleveland Plain Deal-
er: "The Harriman
school of finance is
breeding Socialists to
an extent appreciated
by nearly all Americans
except its own heads.
Their indiflFerence to in-
evitable consequences
''^ ^'l-i:',!Sl N. Y. HeraU. ^an hardly be explained

^^s^

—-WM

^K//|

WHm

wijfmX

^^B|'

^^tUti

f ^y<^

i ^^

"af

f ■ (

^^L

^ ^

■•»— 'V__..-/'^

Harriman: "Hold on there, Theodore, let's talk
this thing over!" — Donahey in Cleveland Plain Dealer.

THE MUSICAL DEATH OF THE "ROOSEVELT CONGRESS" 359

unless on the theory of 'after us the
deluge.' " Of a similar tenor is the comment
of the Boston Herald: "In the mind of every
honest man and woman the conduct of these
'magnates' is no different morally from that
of a crook who robs a house. And they are
the men who cry out against government su-
pervision of railroads, and accuse the Presi-
dent of 'corporation baiting.' " And The
Evening Post (New York) remarks:

"One does well to be angry with such men as
Harriman, They are the ones who are break-
ing down our system of individual initiative and
free competition. By their greed, their cunning,
their lawlessness, they are putting weapons
into the hands, not merely of Socialists,
not alone of advocates of government own-
ership, but actually of political firebrands.
This is the most grievous aspect of the
whole matter. These men in charge of great
public corporations display a reckless disregard
of consequences. They act like a captain of a
ship who should think first, not of the safety of
the passengers, but of the chances for picking and
stealing which his official position gave him, and
who should say that it did not matter what hap-
pened to either vessel or crew if only he got
safely ashore with his plunder. Of course, rail-
road looters call it retiring at sixty with a for-
tune of $200,000,000."

JUST what the railroad men wish the Presi-
dent to do for them is not entirely clear.
He can not change the laws and he can not
refuse to enforce them. He has no power to
check legislation in the states except that aris-
ing from his personal influence. From the
utterances of the railway men it now appears
that so far from desiring to protest further
against federal regulation they are rather dis-
posed to rely upon it as a safeguard for the
future. One of them, B. F. Yoakum, of the
Rock Island, is urging not only federal regu-
lation for all interstate roads, but for intra-
state roads as well. He says:

"There is no doubt that the state can, under
the police power, regulate the tariffs of railroads
and other like corporations which are exclusively
intrastate institutions. For instance, a railroad
from Chicago to East St. Louis, having no con-
nection with any other road, is subject to the
control of Illinois alone. But when, by permis-
sion of the state, it connects with another road
extending out of the state, it thereby becomes
an interstate line, and its situation is entirely
changed. It then has become subject to the fed-
eral law and removed itself from all state laws
on the same subject. Thereafter the state may
not reduce its interstate rates, for such power
lies in the federal government alone."

Mr. Harriman is rather volubly pleading
for closer "co-operation" between the govern-
ment and the roads, and his notion of co-op-
eration seems to be, first, that hostile legis-

lation by the states should cease and, second,
that traffic agreements should be allowed be-
tween the railroads. Senator Newlands, of
Nevada, has a more explicit form of co-opera-
tion in mind. In an article published in The
Independent he advocates a national law for
the federal incorporation of all interstate rail-
roads, "subjecting their capitalization, their
stock and bond issues, and their relations with
their employees and the public to the approval
and control of the Interstate Commerce Com-
mission." Whatever comes out of this agita-
tion, it appears more evident every day that
the conditions that have admitted of the ex-
ploitation of the Chicago & Alton and many
other similar deals can not be allowed to con-
tinue, and that some means of regulating
stock and bond issues, as well as rates, will
be forced upon the government in the near
future.

♦
* *

I^TANDING erect on the Speaker's
desk, with eyes glowing and throat
swelling, the little daughter of
Champ Clark led the members of
the "Roosevelt Congress" in singing the Star-
Spangled Banner. A few minutes later the
Congress had taken its place in the cemetery
of history, and a thousand scribes were busy
writing inscriptions for its tombstone. The
one epitaph that seems likely to be accepted is
embodied in the phrase "Roosevelt Congress."
And the subject of most engrossing interest
connected with the now deceased body is
whether the work it did and the turn it has
given to political development are likely to
extend on broadening lines far into the future
or to create a reaction that will swing us
back into more conservative paths. That
it was a Roosevelt Congress is generally con-
ceded. It did not do all that he asked it to do
in the thirty-seven messages which he ad-
dressed to it; but it did practically nothing
against his known wishes, and all its more
important legislation was enacted in response
to his requests. The list of bills that became
laws reads like a series of subheads of a
Roosevelt message: railroad rate regulation,
the pure food law, meat inspection law, the
law making the Panama Canal a lock canal,
the ratification of the (amended) Santo
Domingo treaty, the law forbidding corpora-
tions to contribute to campaign funds, the
denatured alcohol law, the federal appeals law,
the law providing for two new states, regula-
tion of the hours of railway employees, the
provisions for an agricultural bank in the

36o

CURRENT LITERATURE

HARD

Philippines. Every one of these measures had
the Roosevelt tag on it. The one bill of note
that was enacted without that tag was the
Aldrich currency bill, which, as currency bills

go, was a mild and comparatively unii iportant
measure. It is to be assumed that tli Presi-
dent did not oppose it or it would r.o* have
been passed.

HTHE late Congress was Rooseveltian
■*• also in its breaking of many records.
It began with the largest Republican ma-
jority seen in the capital since the
days of reconstruction. It appropriated
more money than was ever appropriated by
any preceding Congress. And the number of

KEEP

quarto pages in the Congressional Record
(17,000) filled by its discussions is said to be
unparalleled. There was but one heroic mo-
ment when Congress dared to stand up and
shout defiance to the President. That was
when it resolved to be through with thru and
the other forms of simplified spelling. When
next the solons of the nation assemble, the

Republican majority iti the lower house will
be but about one-half what it was in the late
Congress, but in the upper house it will be
increased. The Democrats had in the recent
session 33 Senators; in the next session they
will have but 29, while the Republicans will
number 61. The New York World felicitates
itself upon the fact that the Senate loses six
millionaires — Wetmore, Dry den, Clarke, Al-
ger, Patterson and Millard, and gains but two
— Guggenheim and Richardson. Other sena-
tors who pass out are Blackburn, Berry, Car-
mack, Dubois and Allee. The most interest-
ing accessions will be, probably, Jefferson
Davis of Nebraska, Robert L. Taylor of Ten-
nessee, Charles Curtis of Kansas, William
Alden Smith of Michigan, and Simon Gug-
genheim of Colorado. The new men are all
comparatively young, and will reduce the age
average considerably. During the recent ses-
sion three of the senators were over eighty,
ten more were over seventy, and one-third
were over sixty years of age. The greatest
intellectual loss the senate sustains is in the
resignation of Senator Spooner.

DOWN

— McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune.

WITH the passing of the "Roosevelt
Congress," the great aggregations of
capital seem to be asking themselves whether
they can now sit down and breathe eas-
ily or whether there will be more of
the same sort of thing in the Congress that
is to come; whether the President is at last
satisfied or whether they are to look for more
brain-storms in the White House in the im-
mediate future. If the Washington, corre-
spondent of the New York Times is not in
error, the work of the late Congress is only a
beginning, provided the President has his way :

"The amazed and discomfited corporation men
have never got the clue to Roosevelt. They have
never considered his acts as the product of a
definite and consistent line of policy, aimed at
the accomplishment of a particular result, but
have regarded each attack on them as a separate
and detached event, having no relation to the
others and merely indicating a vagary of the
moment. To oppose an adversary successfully
it is well to understand him, and therefore the
financial people should get a correct line on
Roosevelt.

"His policy is that of one step at a time, but
beginning the next step as soon as the first is
taken. The men who opposed his Railroad Rate
bill imagined that this was a mere whim of his,
and that when he got it he would be satisfied.
The fact was that all the time he was battling for
the Hepburn bill he regarded it only as a pre-
liminary step. The next thing he wins from
Congress will be to him merely another step, and
before he has won it he will be planning the step
after that

"THE ROBIN GOODFELLOW OF THE UNITED STATES SENATE"
After sixteen years' service in the Senate, JTohn C. Spooner, of Wisconsin, resigms to practice law. By general
consent, he is the ablest constitutional lawyer in Congress; but when the subject before the Senate is not too serious
he has found relaxation for himself and delight for the galleries in stirring up Tillman and other irascible mem-
bers, with whom, however, he has managed to preserve the best of personal terms.

362

CURRENT LITERATURE

y>. THERMOMETER. V'

StnlUaH BnilEY

<^^

6£"I«T0» AUISON

BLAZiNC-

HOT

WARM

COOL

SCNKTOft Al.O»'CK

TEMPERATE

"His fundamen-
tal idea is that the
problems of the
twentieth century
are to be economic ;
that there are in-
equalities in the
laws which have
given rise to dis-
content, and that
it is the duty of a
patriotic states-
man to find a
remedy for these
defects and to
grapple with these
problems. And he
holds that it is
not wise to sit on
the safety valve,
lest there should
be an explosion,
not of reforms
like this, but of
anarchic and vio-
lent radicalism."

In other words,
the great cor-
porations may
look for a period
of easy breath-
ing about the
time the twenti-
eth century draws
to a close 1 Either
that or a reaction
will have to be
created and the
Roosevelt policy
thus checked. The
hope of accom-
plishing this does
not seem, from
the point of view
of an impartial
reader of the or-
gans of public
sentiment, a very
roseate one.

-Morris in Spokane Spokesman-
Review.

IN ADDITION
* to other signs
of the continued
support of the
President's pol-
icy, there is at
last a real movement of apparent importance
in the direction of another term for Roosevelt.
The signs seem to be unmistakable that even
the President himself cannot head the move-
ipent off at the present time. The polls made in
several states lately of the preferences of Re-

publican legislators develop surprising re-
sults. In Iowa the number voting for the
renomination of Roosevelt was 75, while for
Cummins, the next highest on the list, but
seven votes were cast. Similar polls taken in
the legislatures of Nebraska and South Dakota
show a practically unanimous preference for
the renomination of Roosevelt. In each of
the legislatures a second poll taken, with
Roosevelt's name eliminated, showed in each
case that Secretary Taft is well in the lead as
second choice. In South Dakota and Ne-
braska the vote for Taft, on the second poll,
was larger than for all other candidates com-
bined. Iowa has two "favorite sons," Shaw
and Cummins ; but neither received in the Iowa
legislature as many votes for second choice as
Taft received.

r\P COURSE this indicates Western sen-
^^ timent, and President Roosevelt's
strength in the West has been for some time
almost as obvious as the law of gravitation.
But the series of interviews which the New
York Herald recently published indicates an
unexpectedly prevalent view among men of
prominence in all sections that the renomina-
tion and re-election of the President should
be effected regardless of his positive state-
ments that he would not consider another
term. Thirty-one interviews are published
in The Herald with men of various callings.
The result is thus summarized:

"That the results of this inquiry were astonish-
ing can easily be understood by a perusal of the
opinions^ herewith presented. The politicians
took their party lines, many Democrats, however,
praising Mr. Roosevelt while they declared
against^ another term. Men involved in gigantic
industrial and commercial enterprises were unani-
mous in favor of another term for Mr. Roose-
velt, with the exception of John Wanamaker,

■ — Pwig in Success Magagint.

'FOUR-FOUR-FOUR YEARS MORE"— FOR ROOSEVELT

363

who says: 'I agree with his good sense on the
question.' Pubhcists and others who are in the
front of public hfe for various reasons were dis-
posed to have views along similar lines."

In a tabulation of the answers received,
there appear thirteen positive noes in answer
to the question whether Roosevelt should be
given another term, sixteen answer yes, and
two are in doubt; but of the thirteen noes,
eight are from Democratic politicians, and
the other five are from men of no national in-
fluence in politics, with the single exception
of Mr. Wanamaker. Those replying yes in-
clude Senators Cullom and Elkins, Governor
Hoch, ex-Governors Pardee and John S.
Wise, Representatives Hull, Grosvenor,
Keifer, President David Starr Jordan, D. N.
Parry, the manufacturer, A. K. McClure, the
editor, and Richard Mansfield and David War-
field, actors.

Another effort to ascertain sentiment on
this question is made by the New York Mail,
which finds that 75 per cent, of the enrolled
Republicans in New York City are in favor
of four years more for Roosevelt.

TTHE most significant thing about this third-
■■■ term movement and the headway it has
gathered, despite Mr. Roosevelt's own posi-
tive declarations that he will refuse to ac-
cept a renomination under any circumstances,
is not so much the indication it gives of the
attitude of individuals toward Roosevelt as the
indication it gives of public sentiment in re-
gard to his policies. Senators Cullom and
Elkins, for instance, speak not of their per-
sonal preferences, but of public sentiment in

CAN HE RUN IN 1908?
"No; he ain't never got over that run of Theo-
doritis he had in 1004."

— Brinkerhoff in Toledo Blade.

Photograph by Underwood & Underwood

"LIKE A MAN WITH THE NAME OF JOE"
The speaker of the "Roosevelt Cong^ressj" Mr. Can-
non, the day after his task as presiding officer ended."

their states. Says Senator Cullom: "Illinois
has her heart set on Roosevelt, and I have no
idea but that he will be compelled to play the
part of the wise statesman and bend to his
country's wishes." Senator Elkins says: "Po-
litical affiliations do not seem to enter into the
minds of the people of West Virginia on Lhe
matter of the candidacy of President Roose-
velt for another term. They are determined
he shall be the candidate." A similar utterance
has come still more recently from Senator
Depew, who says:

"Only twice in my memory have I seen cases
where the people's mind seemed to be made up a
year in advance of the convention. The first case
was that of Grant, the second that of McKinley.
In both instances the country knew a year ahead
who was to be nominated. Now, a year in ad-
vance of the campaign year, the country seems
to have made up its mind that Roosevelt is the

364

CURRENT LITERATURE

man. I know he has said that he would not take
it, and I believe him to be sincere in saying so.
But I have also known instances where a man
has had to take the nomination against his will.
One such instance occurred at Philadelphia, when
Mr. Roosevelt was forced to take the Vice-Presi-
dential nomination."

IF THE views of the people are rightly in-
terpreted by these men, it means, not that
Mr. Roosevelt will be forced to accept another
term (a popular uprising on a far greater
scale than is yet apparent would be necessary
to effect such a result), but that the corpora-
tions might as well make up their minds to
accept four years more of Rooseveltism.
Against the accomplishment of the first result
still stands the formidable barrier of Mr.
Roosevelt's own "unalterable" will. Against
the accomplishment of the second result stands
nothing that seems at the present time to be
very formidable. Alfred Henry Lewis even
declares that if the Republicans refrain from
nominating Mr. Roosevelt the Democrats will
make him their candidate. A paper in Char-
lotteville, Virginia, suggests the same course,
and the suggestion is treated by the Baltimore
Sun, the Richmond Times and other promi-
nent Democratic papers as dangerous enough
to be seriously combatted in long and earnest
editorials. There was a grim and ironic edi-
torial in the New York World not long ago

JOYS OF THE STRENUOUS LIFE

— Williams in Phila. Ledger.

on the real "peerless leader" of the Democ-
racy. It said:

"Whatever factional discord may exist in the
Republican party, the Democratic members of
the United States Senate have a great leader
whom they can trust and follow. We refer, of
course, to Theodore Roosevelt.

"There has been only one Democratic Presi-
dent since the Civil War, but when did Mr.
Cleveland command that enthusiastic and un-
grudging support from Democratic Senators
which seems always at the disposal of Mr.
Roosevelt whenever there is a crisis in his rela-
tions with the Senators of his own party? . . .

"What Democratic Senator ever thinks of con-
sulting Mr. Cleveland or Mr. Bryan or Judge
Parker on questions before Congress ? What one
of them to-day would go to Princeton or Esopus
or Lincoln for advice when the hospitable doors
of the White House swing open at the other end
of Pennsylvania avenue?

"Perhaps the discordant factions of the Demo-
cratic party can learn a lesson from the Demo-
cratic Senators. Have they not erred greatly in
seeking a leader within their own ranks? It was
the Corsican who could rule France, and in
Theodore Roosevelt Democrats at last seem to
have a leader that can lead."

IFTEEN little almond-eyed Japanese
children in San Francisco wended
their way the other day to the pub-
lic school from which they were
summarily ejected a few months ago. They
were received with a welcome, and, after an
examination to determine whether their
knowledge of English was sufficient, were as-
signed seats and classes. They were the first
of the children to take advantage of the action
of the school board in rescinding the rule that
closed all but one of the school doors to
Japanese children, and that opened an inter-
national controversy in which many persons
discerned the possibility of a war. Thus
happily terminates, in all probability, an in-
cident that aroused the attention even of the
chancelleries of Europe and Asia The agree-
ment reached in the conferences between Presi-
dent Roosevelt and Mayor Schmitz and the
members of the San Francisco school board
has been carried out. The Japanese children
are readmitted to the schools; the test suit
that was instituted by the government has
been withdrawn; the President has issued his
order forbidding Japanese immigrants with
passports to Hawaii, Central and South
America or Canada to enter our ports, and all
that now remains to be done is the adoption
of a treaty between the two countries that wrill
effect in an amicable way the restriction of
Japanese emigration to this country, for which
the Japanese government is said to be keen as
ours is. The legislature of California seemed

THE JAPANESE CHILDREN RETURN TO SCHOOL

365

a few days ago to be in a fair way to queer
the effort of the President to secure such a
treaty. It had up for action several anti-
Japanese bills well calculated to arouse the
wrath of the Flowery Kingdom. But a sen-
sible Governor wrote to the President asking
him what effect these bills would have, and the
telegraphic reply he got was forwarded to the
assembly. Promptly, by a heavy viva voce vote,
the three bills were killed. "The Big Stick,"
said a newspaper correspondent, "has broken
its record for swift and determined action."

TTERBERT SPENCER has contributed
•'■ ■'• greatly to smooth President Roosevelt's
way to the adoption of a satisfactory treaty
with Japan. The letter which he wrote in
1892 to Baron Kaneko Kentaro, which was not
published until after Mr. Spencer's death, has
done much to convince the Japanese leaders
of thought that there is more in race hostility
than mere prejudice and individual selfishness.
The Baron had written, it will be remembered,
asking Mr. Spencer concerning the advisabil-
ity of intermarriage between the Japanese and
other peoples. Mr. Spencer's reply was: "It
should be positively forbidden." The question,
he declared, is a biological one. When there
is interbreeding, either among animals or
among human beings, of varieties that diverge
beyond a certain slight degree, the result is
"an incalculable mixture of traits," especially
in the second generation, and "a chaotic con-
stitution." The reason seems to be that each
variety of creature, in the course of

many generations Jic \^^ quires a con

stitutional adaptation to its peculiar mode of
life, and the mixture of too widely divergent
varieties results in a constitution adapted to the
mode of life of neither. Spencer went on to say :

"I have for the reasons indicated entirely ap-
proved of the regulations which have been estab-
lished in America for restraining the Chinese im-
migration, and had I the power I would restrict
them to the smallest possible amount; my rea-
sons for this decision being that one of two things
must happen. If the Chinese are allowed to settle
extensively in America, they must either, if they
remain unmixed, form a subject race standing in
the position, if not of slaves, yet of a class ap-
proaching to slaves; or if they mix they must
form a bad hybrid. In either case, supposing the
immigration to be large, immense social mischief
must arise, and eventually social disorganization.

"The same thing will happen if there should be
any considerable mixture of European or Amer-
ican races with the Japanese."

Needless to say, Mr. Spencer's letter has had
wide publicity in Japan as well as in Califor-
nia and has done much to reconcile the
Mikado's subjects to such a treaty as will now

be negotiated.

1LANKED by forty Congressmen
more or less. Lieutenant Colonel
George W. Goethals, U. S. A., set
^^ sail March 6 for Panama to dig the
canal. In accordance with a time-honored
custom established by his numerous predeces-
sors, he made a public statement before sail-
ing; but his statement beats the record for
brevity and good sense. He said: "I will
know more about it when I get back.'' That
was all. The departure of Colonel Goethals
marks a new stage in the history of the canal.

THE MILITARY WAY

— Mayer in N. Y. Times.

366

CURRENT LITERATURE

IT IS HIS TURN NOW TO DIG
Lieutenant Colonel George W. Goethals takes
charp^e now of operations on the Panama Canal, suc-
ceeding John F. Stevens, who has unexpectedly re-
signed. Mr, Goethals is of the engineer corps of the
U. S. Army. Joining the two seas is a job turned
over to that corps.

and one which it is fondly hoped may
be the last before that which shall be inau-
gurated when the first steamship goes plow-
ing her way from ocean to ocean. Colonel
Goethals is an army officer who goes where
he is ordered and stays until relieved. The
Panama Canal is in need of nothing so much
as a man who has staying qualities When
John F. Stevens was appointed chief engineer
of the canal less than two years ago he also
made a public statement. He said: "Whatever
human beings can do for the building of the
canal shall be done. To the best of my lights
I shall attack the task and stick to it. For the
rest, God knows. When I leave the United
States I expect to be away a long, long time."
But on* February 8, in a talk with Lindsay
Denison, of Collier's, he admitted that the
canal had lost interest for him. It had all be-
come "an enormous, weary, tiresome job of
brute labor, day in and day out, and with
nothing but a hole in the ground to show

when it was all done." He remarked further:
"You have too much imagination for me. I
haven't got as far ahead as imagining ships
passing from ocean to ocean. I am afraid
that sometimes I wonder if there will be any
traffic at all, if there is any good in digging
a canal anyway, if it isn't all just a great big
waste of health and money and energy. I
guess I'm tired of it." That night he wrote
his resignation.

'X'HE strange part of Stevens's funk was
■'• that he had succeeded in organizing the
work in splendid shape, and the dirt was fly-
ing as no one had ever seen it fly before.
Twenty-five thousand men were at work and
a thousand more Spaniards and Italians were
arriving each month. In the Culebra Cut
alone, 566,570 cubic yards of excavation had
been accomplished in the preceding month.
The average amount being excavated when he
took charge was but 70,000 yards a month.
Everything was going on beautifully. Deni-
son had just been over the line of work and
found "a wonderful display of flying dirt and
whirring machinery" that swept him oflf his
feet with enthusiasm. The black pall of
smoke from the engines and shovels and loco-
motives in Culebra Cut made the place look
like Pittsburg. But his enthusiasm did not
seem to infect Stevens. He had "gone stale."
For the resignation which he wrote that night
Denison furnishes the only plausible explana-
tion that has appeared. He writes:

"To any one who knows John F. Stevens well,
the imputation that he could be a quitter is laugh-
able. He seemed rather, on the night of February
8th, to be a man who was going through the re-
action which follows a great achievement — a re-
action which ought not to have come until after
the Canal was finished, but which had come pre-
maturely because of the tremendous physical
strain of the last three years with all its fantastic
complications of climate, politics, and diplomacy.
In other words, he seemed like an overtrained
football player who has broken down into ner-
vousness and despondency after the first big game
of the season. We all know the type : a great big
bunch of nerves and muscle goes sulking off to his
room after having brought about a tremendous
victory; he sits there until midnight, with his
head in his hands, worrying, and at last he writes
a letter to the head coach, a half-petulant, half-
angry letter in which he announces his intention
to retire from the team and from the whole game
of football."

^OW that the engineer corps of the army
•^ ^ takes hold of the canal job, the press of
the country is disposed to view the situation
with more satisfaction than at any time here-
tofore. The Boston Daily Advertiser admits

PROGRESS ON THE PANAMA CANAL

367

that government construction work is not apt
to be swift, but it is safe and honest. The Bal-
timore American thinks that the new way is
the surest way to eUminate graft. The New
York Tribune thinks the situation is reassur-
ing, for the nation has well-founded confidence
in the competence, and integrity as well as in
the perseverance of its army engineers The
Boston Herald thinks, however, that we have
now adopted "the harder as well as the more
expensive and more dangerous way" to dig
the canal. Numerous comparisons are drawn
between army engineers and civilian engineers,
and usually in favor of the former. The
Scientific American says on this subject:

"In professional ability, theoretical and exec-
utive, there is no finer body of engineers in the
world than those of the army. Through all the
many decades in which they have been planning
and superintending the construction of great na-
tional works, there is scarcely an instance to be
found of collusion between the engineer and the
contractors, and these few cases, have been visited
with speedy and condign punishment. Under the
army engineers the work will be executed with
the highest professional intelligence, with the
thoroness which characterizes all the army en-
gineer's work, and with the most scrupulous fidel-
ity in the handling of the national finances.

"That it may take somewhat longer than if it
were executed under contract and civilian pro-
fessional oversight is probable ; but the nation
may at least have the satisfaction of knowing that
it has seen the last of these all too frequent
resignations and the frequent and demoralizing
changes of base and policy which have so delayed
the progress of the canal."

A PPROPRIATIONS for the canal have
^^ now reached the total of about $128,-
000,000; but of this amount nearly $25,000,000
has just been appropriated, $40,000,000 was
paid to the French for their work and $10,-
000,000 to Panama. That leaves a sum of but
$53,000,000, and of this amount, according to
Mr. Shonts' statement last January, about
$32,000,000 has been expended on what he
calls "preliminary work," such as sanitation
and government, which has required $4,500,-
000; construction of quarters, docks, wharves,
waterworks, sewers and railroad enlarge-
ment, $7,000,000; for permanent plant, $12,-
000,000; and for sewers, waterworks, streets
and other improvements in Colon and Panama,
$4,500,000, which is to be repaid to this gov-
ernment ultimately. This leaves as the amount
expended on actual construction of the canal
about $20,000,000. As a result of what has
been done Mr. Shonts says:

"The Isthmus is to-day as safe a place to visit
as most other parts of the world, and much safer
than many parts of the United States, so far as
danger from disease is concerned. Observance of

NOW ON THE WAY TO PANAMA
Colonel David Du B. Gaillard, of the engineer corps
of the U. S. A., is detailed to act as Colonel Goethafs'
first assistant and understudy. He is a South Caro-
linian, and entered , the army twenty-seven years ago.

sanitary laws and regulations is compulsory and
is rigidly enforced. We have a hospital system
which is surpassed by none in the world, and the
privileges of it are not only, like the blessings of
salvation, free to all, but they are compulsory.
Wherever an employee is discovered with too high
temperature he is compelled to go to a hospital
whether he wishes to or not."

That President Roosevelt is satisfied with
the progress made is evident from his remark
regarding the resignation of Mr. Stevens:
"Wallace," he said, "left chaos on the isthmus ;
Stevens leaves it with a magnificent organiza-
tion in fine running order." In view of the
increased supply of labor now available, the
decision has been reached not to take advan-
tage of the offers made by contractors to fur-
nish Chinese coolies. The amount of excava-
tion in the Culebra Cut for the last three
months runs as follows: January, 566,670
cubic yards; February, 650,000 cubic yards;
March (estimated) 800,000 cubic yards. The
total amount to be excavated at the cut is a
little less than 40,000,000 cubic yards. Stevens
says the present organization, working one

368

CURRENT LITERATURE

MRS. EDDY'S CHIEF PUBLICITY AGENT

Alfred Farlow is one of the defendants against whom
the suit brought by Mrs. Eddy's son and nephew for
an accounting of her financial affairs is directed. He
was formerly president of the Mother Church corpora-
tion in Boston.

shift, can in the near future excavate one
million cubic yards a month.

HE year 1907 seems destined to
be a fateful one in the annals of
Christian Science. It has never
had what most religious systems
require for their full development — per-
secution. Opposition and ridicule it has had
in plenty, but for the first time it is begin-
ning to experience a degree of interference
from outside' that probably seems to those in
charge to savor of downright persecution.
Yet, on the other hand, nothing has taken
place that is not attributable to the simple de-
mand of the public for all the facts in regard
to Mrs. Eddy and her system. Those facts
have never been supplied in any adequate de-
gree by Mrs. Eddy or her followers. We have
called attention before to the meager and un-
satisfactory accounts of her life as set forth
in her own reminiscences and in the biograph-
ical sketches by Mr. McCracken and others.
The mantle of mystery in these days simply
stimulates curiosity, and when it is thrown
around a living person for whom such ex-
traordinary claims are made as those ad-
vanced for Mrs. Eddy, it is inevitable that
efforts would be taken to tear it aside even at
the risk of discourtesy to a lady of venerable
age ordinarily entitled to such privacy as she
may wish.

ANOTHER DEFENDANT IN THE MRS. EDDY

SUIT

Rev. Irving G. Tomlinson, former First Reader of
the Mother Church, is now a trustee of the Christian
Science Church, and one of those charged with having
undue control over Mrt. Eddy.

IN THE suit instituted last month by her son
and nephew, technically in Mrs. Eddy's
behalf and against the Christian Science trus-
tees, the claim is made that Mrs. Eddy is in-
capable of managing her own affairs, and that
those who surround her shall be required to
give an accounting of her estate. If Mrs.
Eddy were a wholly unimportant personage,
such a proceeding would excite no particular
interest nor be regarded as an especially cruel
proceeding. The suit may originate, as the
Christian Science leaders charge, in the
malignity of enemies or it may originate in
the genuine suspicion of her son and nephew
that she is being subjected to unfair treat-
ment; but however it may originate, the suit
can certainly not be at all serious if nothing is
being concealed by those surrounding her. The
supposition that the suit will have any import-
ant effect upon Mrs. Eddy's religious system
does not receive much support from the press.
The New York Evening Post thinks that "we
may confidently look forward to a vast out-
pouring of sympathy for the persecuted
Mother of Christian Science," and the New
York Times expresses a hope that the suit
may result in declarations of independence on
the part of leaders who are now, as it thinks,

THE SUIT AGAINST CHRISTIAN SCIENCE TRUSTEES

369

forced to pay unwilling homage to the
founder. It says:

"Among the various 'First Readers,' of course,
the progress of the Glover suit will be eagerly
followed. Many of them are restive under the
tyrannous rule exercised by Mrs. Eddy on her
favored satellites, and they are waiting with im-
patience for a hopeful opportunity to declare their
independence. Most of the bitter and savage wars
that have been waged within this strange organ-
ization have been so quietly conducted that they
escaped public notice, just as most of the scandals
characteristic of 'perfectionism' in all its forms
have been concealed, but if the reality — or the
shadow — of Mrs. Eddy is deposed from the throne
there may soon be a resounding explosion, and
that will be the end of 'Christian Science,' the
beginning of half a dozen successors of it."

As for the Christian Scientists themselves,
they profess to see nothing whatever in the
suit that can seriously affect their religion.
"In my eyes," said the treasurer of the Mother
Church, Stephen A. Chase, "it is nothing
more than a personal matter between our be-
loved" leader and her son."

IF THE full-page interview with George W.
* Glover, Mrs. Eddy's son, published in The
World (New York) March 3, is not another
World "fake," Mr. Glover has had experi-
ences that may well lead an unsophisticated
mind into labyrinths of doubt and suspicion.
For Mr. Glover has run up against "black
magic" and he predicts that as soon as legal
proceedings are really started "every evil
known to the black arts will be let loose upon
us." He is represented as telling of his first
meeting with his mother after his days of
childhood, in the year 1879, thirty years after
their separation. His mother was then hav-
ing a desperate struggle against insurgents
among her followers, and summoned her son
to her aid. To quote from his alleged ac-
count :

"Within a week of my arrival in Boston I
learned many strange things. The strangest of
these was that the rebellious students were em-
ploying black arts to harass and destroy my
mother.

"The longer I remained with mother, the clearer
this became. Pursued by the evil influence of the
students, we moved from house to house, never at
rest and always apprehensive. It was a madden-
ing puzzle to me. We would move to a new house
and our fellow lodgers would be all smiles and
friendliness. Then, in an hour, the inevitable
change would come ; all friendliness would vanish
under the spell of black magic, and we would be
ordered to go. But mother made it all clear to
me.

Finally matters came to such a pass that
he slipped a revolver in his pocket and sought
the office of Richard Kennedy, the leader in

THE ANXIOUS SON OF MRS. EDDY
George W. Glover thinks his mother is unduly re-
strained by those surrounding her, and he is a plaintiff
in the suit to secure a court investigation into the
handling of her estate. He is a miner and prospector
in the West.

the opposition, and, placing the revolver
against his head, threatened to blow his brains
out if the persecution of his mother was con-

MRS. EDDY'S GRANDDAUGHTER
Mary Glover has joined her father as plaintiff in the
suit brought against Mrs. Eddy's advisers.

370

CURRENT LITERATURE

tinued. And it ceased at once. "We were not
ordered out of another boarding-house that
winter." Mr. Glover goes on to tell of a series
of persecutions years later of himself by Cal-
vin A. Frye, Mrs. Eddy's present secretary,
in the course of w^hich it became clear to him
that his mother was entirely under Frye's con-
trol when in the latter's presence, and afraid
to do or say anything in opposition to his
wishes. The interview has the earmarks of
a journalistic fraud. It is too finished a piece
of melodrama to be credible.

"IF ONLY it were always possible to
^^^^,J make a subject as interesting as it
i^^^ is important, then child-labor and
J many other sociological questions
might receive the popular attention they de-
serve. Anyone with half an eye can see at
half a glance the intrinsic importance of the
subject of child-labor. But the effort to
arouse popular interest in it has not been
markedly successful in the past. The litera-
ture of the question has a somber and forbid-
ding aspect, and it is only within the last few
weeks, when proposed legislation on the sub-
ject bade fair to produce another battle royal
over the rights of the states and the powers of
Congress, that a lively interest began to per-
vade the columns of magazines and dailies.
Five bills on child-labor were introduced into
Congress in the recent session, the purpose of
all being to impose some sort of federal regu-
lation. Senator Beveridge made a rather no-
table speech in the Senate on the subject.
President Roosevelt wrote a letter expressing
his sympathy with the efforts being made
to secure reform legislation, a mass-meeting
was held in New York under the auspices of a
dozen sociological and charitable organiza-
tions, and the talented writers of several of
our magazines of large circulation have ex-
pended their skill in illuminating the statistics
of the question with forcible rhetoric and som-
ber warnings and moving appeals. Whether
or not the recourse to Washington for reme-
dial legislation shall be justified in the fu-
ture by any addition to the federal statutes,
it is already justified by the excite-
ment aroused. Dr. Felix Adler professes to
be "one of those who by temperament, by
prejudice and by predilection cling to local
self-government and dread the expansion of
the federal power." After several years' ef-
fort, however, to make satisfactory progress
in regulating child-labor by appeals to state
legislatures, he joined with others in turn-

ing to Washington for aid. And straight-
way the cry went up that the Constitution
is again in peril and the indestructible union
of indestructible states is about to receive a
mortal thrust. Then and not until then the
country began to sit up and take notice.

r^ ONGRESS adjourned without enacting
^ any legislation on child-labor; but a bill
was passed providing for an investigation of
the whole subject by the department of com-
merce and labor, and many bills are pending
in state legislatures. The bill introduced in
the Senate by Senator Beveridge is the one
that has called forth most of the comment pro
and con. It provides, briefly, that no carrier
of interstate commerce shall transport the
products of any factory or mine in which
children under fourteen years of age are
employed or permitted to work, when the
products are offered to said carrier by those
owning and operating the factory or mine* or
by any agent of theirs. This bill will not
affect products that come from jobbers, it will
not reach local sweatshops and a large
amount of the evil that exists in other forms.
But the Senator is confident that it will "take
the heart out of the evil" in the five states
where it is most prevalent — namely, Pennsyl-
vania, Georgia, New Jersey, Rhode Island and
Maine.

npHE most damaging blow that has been
•'• given to the Beveridge bill and to all
other projects for federal regulation came
from the committee on judiciary of the House
of Representatives. By a unanimous vote that
committee, supposed to contain the best legal
talent in the House, adopted a statement con-
taining the following deliverance :

"Congress cannot exercise any jurisdiction or
authority over women and children employed in
the manufacture of products for interstate com-
merce shipment, and certainly it will not be
claimed by the foremost advocates of a centralized
government that Congress can exercise jurisdic-
tion or authority over women and children en-
gaged in the manufacture of products for intra-
state shipment.

"The fact is, when the product is manufactured
it is uncertain whether the same will be interstate
commerce or intrastate commerce. It is not ex-
treme or ridiculous to say that it would be just
as logical and correct to argue that Congress can
regulate the_ age, color, sex, manner of dress,
height and size of employees, and fix their hours,
as to contend that Congress can exercise jurisdic-
tion over the subject of woman and child labor.

"The jurisdiction and authority over the sub-
ject of woman and child labor certainly falls
under the police power of the states, and not
under the commercial power of Congress. . . .

CHILD-LABOR AND THE FEDERAL CONSTITUTION

371

The assertion of such power by Congress would
destroy every vestige of state authority, obliterate
state lines, nullify the great work of the framers
of the Constitution and leave the state govern-
ments mere matter of form, devoid of power, and
ought to more than satisfy the fondest dreams of
those favoring centralization of power."

The argument made by Senator Beveridge
on this phase of the question runs as follows:
Congress has prohibited the importation of
convict-made goods; its power over interstate
commerce is the same as over foreign com-
merce; it can accordingly prohibit transporta-
tion from state to state of convict-made goods ;
and if it can prohibit the transportation of
convict-made goods it can prohibit that of
child-made goods. Mr. William J. Bryan ac-
cepts this line of reasoning and goes one step
further. If Congress can prohibit the trans-
portation of convict-made goods and child-
made goods, it can and should prohibit that of
trust-made goods.

"VV/RITING two months ago, Senator Bev-
'" eridge stated that the great volume of
editorial comment has been decidedly in favor
of the proposed measure. That may have
been so two months ago, but, so far as our
observation goes, it certainly has not been so
since. Hardly any of the most influential
dailies have come out unreservedly in favor
of the bill. The New York American
(Hearst's paper) has, also the Chicago Even-
ing Post, The Georgian, of Atlanta, and the
Buffalo Times. The Boston Transcript has
taken a sympathetic attitude, but his suspended
judgment. The Springfield Republican, always
quick to champion measures for social re-
form, speaks very indecisively. It says that
"it is quite possible" that the bill would be
sustained by the courts, tho "it draws larger
inferences from the congressional right to
regulate interstate commerce than have here-
tofore been acted upon." The New York
Evening Post also seems to suspend judg-
ment, but it evidently looks askance upon the
measure, and has lately been publishing an im-
portant series of articles against it written by
Edgar Gardner Murphy, of Alabama. There
is, on the other hand, a strong and emphatic
chorus of disapproval from many leading jour-
nals North and South. The New York
Tribune professes the "utmost sympathy"
with those pushing the measure, but considers
it their clear duty to "make the negligent states
protect the children," for "if the powers of
congress over interstate commerce were ex-
tended to cover articles made by child-labor
that clause could gradually be stretched so as
to take the vitality out of state government."

HTHE New York Times and the New York
•*• Sun more than intimate that the real in-
fluence behind the bill comes from New Eng-
land cotton factories which find themselves re-
stricted by state laws in the matter of child-
labor, and are now seeking to have their com-
petitors in Southern states similarly restricted
by federal law. The Times argues the con-
stitutional point as follows:

"The Supreme Court has held that lottery
tickets may be excluded from the mails and from
interstate commerce. That is a proper exercise
of police power, because lottery tickets have no
innocent use. Diseased meat and falsified canned
products have so little innocent use, and are so
manifestly harmful, that their exclusion from in-
terstate commerce is proper. But when the
federal government once begins to exclude staple
manufactured goods, of which it may be said
that they have no guilty use, from transporta-
tion across state lines, a step will have been
taken so far in advance of any other threatened
extension of power of federal control that the func-
tions of state legislatures and state governments
will, in a very large measure indeed, be abrogated."

The New York World makes the point that
the meat-inspection and pure-food laws were
enacted "for the protection of the consumer
outside the state of production and not of the
producer within the state," and the Beveridge
bill stands on a very different basis.

]\J0 PARTISAN lines are discernible in
^^ the opposition to the bill. The Phila-
delphia Press, the Chicago Tribune, the De-
troit News, all Republican in politics, make
the same point, namely, that federal legisla-
tion on the subject will render adequate state
legislation more difficult to obtain, and, as
The Tribune remarks, "the local sentiment
upon which every child-labor law must de-
pend for its enforcement would not be stimu-
lated by federal legislation." From leading
Southern and Democratic journals the same
general attitude of jealousy for the powers
of the states is strongly expressed. "This
bill," says the Memphis Appeal, "is danger-
ous to the liberties of the people." The Rich-
mond Times thinks the bill "is aimed at the
South." The Baltimore Sun thinks that "if
Senator Beveridge's plan is legal and consti-
tutional, then no state can retain any single
function of government of which members of
Congress from other states cannot deprive
them." Mr. Edgar Gardner Murphy, of Ala-
bama, "the ablest and hardest worker in the
South" in the interest of child-labor, accord-
ing to the New York Evening Post, withdrew
recently from the National Child-Labor Asso-
ciation because of its endorsement of the
Beveridge bill.

372

CURRENT LITERATURE

[SCLOSURES of strained personal
relations between President Roose-
velt and his inveterate eulogist,
William II, came from Paris last
month with a fulness of detail almost shock-
ing to those English students of world politics
who complain that the White House has too
long echoed Potsdam' and the Wilhelmstrasse.
Not five months have passed since London
organs were pleading for the appointment as
British Ambassador in Washington of a di-
plomatist who could neutralize the effect of
the sympathy between the ruler of the great
republic and the ruler of the German Empire.
The late Lord Pauncefote was wont to at-
tribute his success with our Department of
State to the favorable impression made by
Mr. Arthur Spring Rice upon the mind of
Theodore Roosevelt. Mr. Spring Rice is a
young British diplomatist who has profoundly
studied the United States Senate on its per-
sonal side. But he is not less the friend of
the President than he is the friend of Sena-
tors Aldrich and Allison, Senators Lodge and
CuUom. He would build a bridge between the
Capitol and the White House, connect both
with the British Foreign Office and sever all
intimacies with Potsdam. Thus the cham-
pions of Mr. Spring Rice, who were aghast
at the selection for the Washington mission
of James Bryce, a statesman accused of be-
longing to the so-called "Potsdam party" in
the British ministry. Mr. Bryce, according to
the London National Review, would not even
attempt to break the spell cast by William II
upon Rooseveltian diplomacy. The new Brit-
ish Ambassador in Washington, we are as-
sured by the same authority, is always the
slave of the irresistible attraction which any
enemy of his own country exercises over a
certain type of English politican. He would,
more probably, strengthen the hold of Pots-
dam upon the White House.

A DIPLOMATIC sensation, therefore, has
■**• resulted from the revelation in the cur-
rent Revue des Deux Mondes that President
Roosevelt was restrained only by his regard
for the Monroe Doctrine from openly taking
the field against the application of William
II's peculiar theory of world politics during
the international discord over Morocco. It
is no secret in Washington that President
Roosevelt has long resented imputations which
attribute to his personal regard for the Ger-
man Ambassador in Washington an alleged
loss of English diplomatic prestige in our
Department of State. He only awaits, it is

said, a suitable opportunity to express pub-
licly his regret for such persistent misrepre-
sentation. The great Paris review would now
seem to have undertaken for the President a
task which he could find no occasion to
achieve for himself. The drama opens at that
tense moment of the Algeciras conference
when Count Witte, instigated by France, ap-
pealed to Emperor William to display a spirit
of conciliation. His Majesty flatly refused to
meet the republic's wishes. He elaborated
grievance after grievance against France. He
conceded the possibility of a rupture that might
bring Europe within measurable distance of
war, but counsels of moderation should be
directed towards Paris. William would not
be swayed by Witte. The conference at Al-
geciras stood impotently on the brink of dis-
ruption.

INTO the clouds of this diplomatic storm
President Roosevelt now discharged the
lightnings of his own displeasure. Emperor
William had promised to accept any solution
regarded by the United States Government as
equitable. The President refreshed the im-
perial memory by cable on this point. He
added a scheme for the policing of Morocco.
Not only did the Emperor reject the Roose-
velt proposal point blank, but he made alter-
native proposals in no way resembling those
he had communicated to Count Witte. The
President rejected every one. The climax
came with three categorical refusals by Mr.
Roosevelt to accept three categorical sugges-
tions that the United States exert pressure
upon France. The disputants are lost to view
in confused impressions of an incensed Roose-
velt admonishing an obstinate Emperor that
France had made every possible concession,
that it behooved his Majesty to abandon an
untenable and even inequitable attitude, and
that if the Monroe Doctrine did not prescribe
limitations upon American interference in
Europe Algeciras would be made the central
point of a severe disturbance. William II
would seem to have been disconcerted by the
activity of one whom he is so fond of styling
the greatest American President that ever
lived. His Majesty felt that France had no
intention of becoming involved in a quarrel
over Morocco with any of the great powers,
least of all with Germany. France would be
risking far more than her position at Fez, and
in such a conflict Great Britain could afford
her no substantial help. The French and
British navies could no doubt have blockaded
the German coasts, and for the time sup-

PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT AND EMPEROR WILLIAM AT ODDS 373

pressed Germany's seaborne trade; but the
British army could have done little to assist
France in the defense of her own frontier,
while, in the half paralyzed condition of her
Russian ally, France would have found it ex-
ceedingly difficult to guard that frontier effect-
ually. It was upon the incapacity of Great
Britain to take part in a European war as the
ally of France, in view of the present balance
of military power in Europe, that William II
based his attitude at Algeciras until he began
to receive cablegrams from the greatest Amer-
ican President that ever lived. His Majesty's
policy in Morocco was revised.

'X'HUS is made known from a point so re-
■* mote as Paris one of the well-kept se-
crets of Washington diplomacy. The revela-
tion is characteristic, opines the Vienna Neue
Freie Presse, of those local conditions which
render the capitals of Europe better informed
regarding the diplomacy of Washington than
the American people are often permitted to
become. The ambassadors in the capital of
the United States, owing to the intimacy of
their association with the highest officials
there, gain a knowledge of events and ten-
dencies to which a mere member of the House
of Representatives can never attain. The am-
bassadors transmit to their governments, in
the form of dispatches, particulars which, if
published in an American newspaper, would
make a sensation. If, as happens to be the
case in Paris, the Foreign Office has a news-
paper organ of its own — the Temps — there
occur from time to time revelations more or
less unpalatable to our Department of State.
The revelation that President Roosevelt has
been quarreling with Emperor William pur-
ports to come to the Revue des Deux Mondes
from the foreign editor of the Temps. The
authenticity of the narrative would seem,
therefore, indisputable, altho it does not nec-
essarily follow that the French Foreign Office
was the source of the indiscretion. Neither,
necessarily, was Count Witte. President
Roosevelt is conjectured to have definite ideas
on the subject, however, and to have ex-
pressed them unconventionally.

IT IS not at all surprising to such profound
^ students of Emperor William's character
as the London Spectator and the London Out-
look that his Majesty, in dealing with the
President, proved so like the nettle in the
fable that had borrowed the perfume of the
rose. Mr. Roosevelt was merely the latest to
feel the sting. King Edward is represented

to have been the victim of the same peculiar-
ties of procedure when, two or three years
ago, he offered to visit his imperial nephew
in Berlin. It was at the latter's suggestion
and for his convenience that the British sov-
ereign went to Kiel instead. But the German
official press was permitted to affirm without
contradiction that King Edward had been
guilty of the "discourtesy" of refusing to
travel to Berlin to honor the head of the
Hohenzollern dynasty. "For two years,"
affirms the London National Review, "the
German government has been exploiting this
lie in the interests of its naval propaganda."
It is common knowledge, according to the
same authority, that the influence of the King
of England in world politics is not on the
side of the German Emperor. But all these
innuendoes are disingenuous readjustments of
recent diplomatic history, affirms the Berlin
Kreuz Zeitung, the foreign editor of which
is known to advise William II on the subject
of world politics. The German daily notes
that the London Outlook and the London Na-
tional Review are the organs of that clique
of statesmen in England who regard the
growth of the German navy as a menace to
the mistress of the seas. The facts set forth
in the Revue des Deux Mondes belong, we
are further assured, to the class of perver-
sions which make it appear that William II
was on the side of Spain when Dewey won
his renown at Manila.

IN ALL that has occurred between President
*■ Roosevelt and William II during the past
few years, if we are to credit the London
Spectator, there is evident, on the imperial
side, what it styles a policy of bluff alternating
with a system of "pin pricks." The interfer-
ence of the German naval forces in the dis-
turbances at Hayti, the attempt to precipitate
an international complication over Venezuela,
the menacing attitude of the Wilhelmstrasse
in Santo Domingo, and the recurrence of what
the late Secretary Hay termed "efforts to
sneak into the Caribbean" by acquiring a coal-
ing station for his Majesty's squadron there
comprise the policy of "pin pricks." "It is
always easy," comments the London Specta-
tor, "to tell when William II wants some-
thing." He is far too astute to "make up to
the power" from which he means to wring
concessions. Veiled menaces and ingeniously
contrived annoyances belong to the effective
stage of the Bismarckian diplomacy in which
William II has such faith. Then matters are
carried forward a step. The pestered gov-

374

CURRENT LITERATURE

ernraent is invited to arrive at an understand-
ing or alliance with the government of the
Hohenzollern. Overtures of this kind (after
innumerable "pin pricks") have been made on
behalf of William II to the government of
this country, or so the London Spectator
definitely affirms. But the Bismarckian diplo-
macy was not at all efifective when applied to
President Roosevelt. It collapsed altogether
in its final stage — that of what the London
Spectator terms "the diplomatic bogie." It
was pointed out by means of obscure hints
that the United States has "a terrible enemy"
— we follow the account of our British au-
thority— in a third power (unspecified), and
that, if no agreement were duly reached,
William II's government must make the best
terms it could with this terrible enemy. This,
we are told, is an accurate summary of the
diplomatic history of the present administra-
tion so far as William II figures in it.

WERE it not for the Machiavellian subtlety
of Emperor William's Ambassador in
Washington, President Roosevelt, as the sev-
eral British organs already quoted all agree,
would long ere this have been as wise as they
are in London. Baron von Sternberg suc-
ceeded to his post when the state of American
feeling towards William II, in consequence
of his attitude to Venezuela, was critical. The
Ambassador's predecessor in office, Dr. von
Holleben, recalled by his imperial master, had
quitted Washington without taking leave of
the President, a diplomatic incivility which
William II is not supposed to have suggested.
The alleged quarrel between Dr. von Holleben
and Baron Speck von Sternberg ; Dr. von Hol-
leben's successful efforts to oust the Baron
from the embassy in Washington, whence he
was transferred to Calcutta as German con-
sul-general; the efforts of Baron Speck von
Sternberg's friends in Berlin against Dr. von
Hollenben, ending in the latter's recall ; and
Baron Speck von Sternberg's appointment as
Ambassador instead, inaugurated what may
be deemed the personal era in the relations be-
tween the President of the United States and
the head of the Hohenzollern dynasty. Of
von Hollenben it was said that he excelled in
doing the gracious thing ungraciously. Mag-
netic his personality never was. He kept him-
self remarkably well informed regarding
American public opinion, and he never hesi-
tated to put unpalatable facts into his dis-
patches home. That he tried to influence the
German vote in Bryan's favor during the
presidential campaign of 1900 in the hope that

Bryan, if elected, would give William II a
coaling station in the Caribbean is among the
fantastic legends of the period. Baron Speck
von Sternberg knew his Washington too well
to risk involving himself in such figments of
the diplomatic fancy.

'THE Baron belongs to the spacious days
*- made memorable by European press ref-
erences to the competition between President
Roosevelt and William II for first place in the
respect and admiration of mankind. When
the Emperor's cruiser blew up a Haytian gun-
boat, to the annoyance of the Department of
State at Washington, the German Ambassador
repudiated all designs on Brazil. While Cas-
tro complained that Venezulean revolutions
were financed from Berlin, Baron Speck von
Sternberg made graceful allusions to the Ger-
manic museum at Harvard, enriched by an-
other contribution from his imperial Majesty.
Watching these developments from afar, the
London Spectator wonders what may hap-
pen should William II venture to treat the
United States as he dealt with France in re-
gard to Morocco. What if the Emperor pro-
tests "with a threat" that the Monroe Doc-
trine ought to be modified, "limited, say, to
America north of the Panama Canal." This,
says the British weekly, is at least possible.
"If we understand American feeling at all,
there would be war in a week and a war
which, if Germany proved victorious at first,
might last for years till the republic could
bring her awful reserves of strength fully to
bear upon the contest." Here, retorts the Ber-
lin Kreuz Zeitung, we have a display of that
serpentine craft with which organs of
opinion in London seek to familiarize the
American mind with the idea of war upon the
Teuton. Every coincidence is distorted out
of all connection with reality. If imperial in-
terests are asserted anywhere, we hear of "pin
pricks." An exchange of international cour-
tesies becomes a display of subtle and pro-
found policy. The traditional principle of
British diplomacy is to keep the nations of
continental Europe at swords' points. The
United States is now drawn within the radius
of the same deadly aim. From a literary
standpoint the great American republic has
long been a province of England. It is next
to be made a British province from the point
of view of world politics. The truth to be
kept in mind, as French newspapers sum up
the rivalry between the Wilhelmstrasse and
the Foreign Office for the favor of Washing-
ton, is that President Roosevelt has been

THE SOCIALIST REVERSE IN GERMANY

375

"The clerical bull," says the German Michael,
be got rid of "

deemed hitherto a partner of William II in the
business of world politics. That delusion had
its origin in London. Paris has now exploded
it. No more, concludes the Gaulois, does
William II confide to itinerant American jour-
nalists a desire to advertise the United States
by paying it a visit.

N VIEW of recent rumors of a re-
actionary revision of the German
constitution and the explicit de-
mands of newspapers like The
Hamburger Nachrichten that the franchise be

" and now we have dealt it a blow "

restricted without delay, Emperor William's
declaration to the new President of the Reich-
stag last month that universal suffrage had
proved itself "thoroly trustworthy" delights
the radical element. The impression was
heightened by the assurance in the speech
from the throne that his Majesty means to be
a constitutional sovereign in the strictest sense
of the term. The Emperor took great pleas-
ure, too, in assuring the newly elected officials
of the Reichstag that "the battle shock" of So-
cialism had been "dashed to pieces." It has

-but it seems to be in as fine fettle as ever."
— Simplidssimus (Munich).

developed to the full extent of which it is
capable in Germany, so his Majesty argues,
basing this notion upon the decline in the rate
of increase of the Socialist vote. Thus, while
the increase in the national liberal vote was
eleven per cent, above the average, the clerical
increase fell two per cent, below its average in-
crease, and the Socialist increase fell nearly
nine per cent, below what it should have been.
By way of .contrast with the radiant William
II, Herr Bebel, the Socialist leader, pausing
to arrange his papers as he stood up in the
orator's tribune of the Reichstag, seemed al-
most a pathetic figure. There was some dis-
position to receive him with titters. It begins
to look, however, as if the imperial chancellor
will ultimately be obliged to conciliate the Ro-
man Catholic Center, with which he quar-
reled before the recent election, or dissolve the
Reichstag. Altho, as the radical Berlin Tage-
hlatt points out, Prince von Biilow can get
some kind of a majority in three different
ways out of the Reichstag as it stands, the
combinations are embarrassing. Meanwhile
that internecine strife which the result of the
elections rendered inevitable within the ranks
of Bebel's followers has been intensified by
the Sozialistische Monatsheften, which affirms
that German Socialism has lost its "nimbus"
and its intellectual prestige.

N THE warmth of his congratula-
tions to Feodor Golovin, whom the
new Russian Duma selected last
month to preside over its turbulent
deliberations. Czar Nicholas II evinced, in the
opinion of well informed European dailies, his
own consciousness of having achieved a per-
sonal triumph. His Majesty is understood to
have declared, as long ago as last January,
that he would instantly dissolve a Duma so
contumacious as to elect Maxime Kovalevsky
for its president. Professor Kovalevsky
would seem to have affronted his sovereign
by defining the Czar's idea of a constitutional
system as a parliament which confined itself
to the discussion of measures selected by the
autocrat himself. It was impossible, added
Kovalevsky, to suffer any such infringement
of the right to initiate legislation. He further
predicted that one of the first acts of this new
Duma would be the impeachment of Prime
Minister Stolypin for illegally dissolving Rus-
sia's first national legislature. Kovalevsky
could not, it is affirmed, have displayed greater
ingenuity had it been his deliberate aim to
render himself obnoxious to the Czar of all

376

CURRENT LITERATURE

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THE COUNT OF VOTES IN ST. PETERSBURG
Here, in the office of the mayor of the city, are the officials of the election bureau affixing the seals to the urns in
which are contained the ballots for the local members of the Duma. Charges of gross fraud in the count have hot
been made, but it is alleged that the intimidation of electors was carried to an extreme by the Prime Minister.

the Russias. Every mention of the professor
as a probable president of the new Duma be-
came an aggravation to Nicholas II and to
Prime Minister Stolypin alike. But Koval-
evsky's propaganda in his organ, The Strana,
the brilliance of his record as a speaker in the

last Duma and the influence he gained over
the peasant mind, made him the most con-
spicuous of all the candidates for the presi-
dency of the parliament expelled from the
Tauride Palace by the collapse of a ceiling. He
was finally disqualified for election as one of

THE CZAR'S HOUSE OF LORDS
This assemblage is officially designated as the Council of the Empire. Theoretically, it revises the legislation
sent up to it by the Duma. Some of the most distinguished men in the empire, including Goremykin, Kuropatkin
and Witte, have been appointed to membership. Its latest acquisition is the popular tribune of the people, Maxim
Kovalevsky, whom the Prime Minister excluded from the lower house on a technical point

THE NEW DUMA

%11

THE LAST PONIES UNEATEN IN THE VILLAGE
The famine has so desolated European Russia that in many villages all the huts have been burned for fuel,
the cattle have been devoured and the mbabitants driven to subsist upon the carcasses of quadrupeds that have
died of disease.

its members on a point so technical that no
one is able to imderstand it.

D Y THE time the deputies had fought their
^ way through the mobs that surged about
the palace they found themselves not only
short of their full complement of 524 mem-
bers, but so decimated by the form of exclusion
practiced in the case of Kovalevsky that, were
it not for the presence of Rodicheff, the Duma
would be without one orator of demonstrated

brilliance. The group of toil and the prole-
tarian element generally had suffered the se-
vere loss of Aladin, whose name had been
stricken from the list of voters in his Sim-
birsk constituency and who was at that mo-
ment interpreting the crisis to audiences of New
Yorkers. So watchfully had the Duma been
shepherded at all stages of its slow evolution
that no difficulty was experienced in effecting
the election as its president of the satisfactory
Feodor Golovin. Mr. Golovin is a Russian

CAPITULATING TO STARVATION
As the want of food and of warmth drives the inhabitants of Russian villages to the last expedients for the
maintenance of existence, the roof is chopped from the home, the home itself is fed to the fire, and the family
shelters itself with a neig^hbor. The process has gone on indefinitely in some cases, until of a whole village there
will be left but one hut into which all the survivors of the calamity are packed like sardines.

378

CURRENT LITERATURE

women so openly that, had the Grand Duke
not been assassinated in time, the earthly ca-
reer of the present presiding officer of the
Duma must have terminated prematurely.

THE URBANE COURTIER WHO PRESIDES
OVER THE DUMA

Feodor Golovin, an eminent citizen of Moscow, was
chosen last month to preside over the sittings of the
deputies in the Tauride Palace. He is both a courtier
and an agitator, a friend of the Czar and a chami)ion
of popular rights. Within a fortnight of his election,
the ceiling above his official seat in the Duma col-
lapsed, but as he was absent he escaped injury.

liberal of a slightly antiquated Russian school.
He has for years been prominent in the
municipal affairs of Moscow. As a member
of the zemstvo of that city he stoutly resisted
the reactionary Plehve when that Minister of
the Interior was bent upon reducing to im-
potence the only popularly representative insti-
tutions in the Russian empire. Plehve sent
his spies to Moscow for the express purpose
of intimidating Golovin, then president of the
local zemstvo. Golovin appealed to Nicholas
II over Plehve's head and won his point.
When the late Grand Duke Sergius, who de-
fined Russia as the holy and autocratic land
of God, expelled all Jews from the ancient
capital of the empire, Golovin alone had the
courage to make anything in the nature of
open protest. There were days in Moscow
when, for a Jewess to remain there, she had
to enter her name in a book of infamy kept
by the police. If she did not prove the truth
of the official description by her mode of life
the military had power to enforce her. Golo-
vin championed the cause of the unfortunate

/^ OLOVIN, who helped to organize the
^^ zemstvo congress of some two years
ago, is described as a man of indefatigable
industry and most zealous in the promotion of
the theory of representative government
throughout Russia. He is a great admirer of
Buckle, whose history of civilization he is
said to have studied with enthusiasm and
whose principles he applies in an almost pe-
dantic spirit. It is objected against Mr. Golo-
vin that his nervous excitability is too great
to permit him to keep in order so heteroge-
neous and turbulent a body as the Duma.
However, he had the merit — rare among the
deputies — of being acceptable to the Czar per-
sonally and satisfactory to the democratic ele-
ment. Mr. Golovin has never committed him-
self to the radicalism professed by so many
members of that constitutional democratic
party to which he rather loosely adheres. The
votes that elected him are said to have been
won by the general dread of an early dissolu-
tion in the event of a choice unpalatable at
court. There has never been a suspicion of
Mr. Golovin's good faith in any well-informed
mind, notwithstanding the numerous friends
he possesses in the imperial palace itself.

TTHAT loveliest of sovereign ladies, the
■■• Czarina Alexandra Feodorovna, is said
to have asked President Golovin, when he paid
his first official visit to the autocrat, what the
Duma will do for the innumerable Russian
peasants whom the famine has driven to sell
their clothes, their utensils, their last cattle,
sometimes their cottages, and, too often, their
future crops and their future labor. Her Maj-
esty is represented as shocked by stories of
soup kitchens set up in the biggest cottage of
a village that the weaker members of the com-
munity— usually children, women and crip-
ples— may get a plate of gruel or cabbage
soup once a day. The most destitute can not
come because they dare not face the frost
without either clothes or shoes. In many
cases a peasant carries one of his children,
wrapped in the remnants of a cloak, to the
soup kitchen, puts the child down naked on
a bench and takes away the rag of a garment
to bring his other child in. These are the de-
tails which, if her Majesty be correctly re-
ported, should concern the Duma more than
the freedom of the press and the reform of

THE PARLOUS CONDITION OF RUSSIAN FINANCES

379

administrative procedure. The deputies, on
the other hand, gave preliminary consideration
to the sufferings of Russians committed to
prison or deported to Siberia for political of-
fenses without any form of trial. That slight-
ly sensational journalist, Professor Berezin,
of Saratoff, who may yet attain Aladin's
prominence as leader of the group of toil, ex-
cited the more radical elements by his ac-
counts of conditions in the overflowing
prisons. Allegations that in many places men
and women are herded together like cattle in
a shed, and that every crack of the benches
they sleep upon teems with vermin imparted an
excited tone to the discussions of amnesty.
By refusing to rise at the mention of the
Czar's name at the opening ceremonies, the
radical deputies, it is explained, signified their
protest against conditions of existence in
cells which transform prisoners, after a few
months, from stalwart men into confirmed in-
valids. Notwithstanding the stories told to
the deputies of boys, girls and women now de-
liberately starving themselves to the point of
death in preference to further endurance of
their prison lot, the social revolutionists, the
group of toil and the constitutional democrats
united to shelve the amnesty resolution for
the time being.

A S THE booted peasants and bespectacled
^*- professors of this Duma strove to follow
Vladimir Nicolaievitch Kokovtsoff, when that
most bewildering of finance ministers appeared
to expound the budget, the parallel between
the St. Petersburg of last month and the Paris
of 1789 was, to the way of thinking of the
London Post, perfect. "What to do with the
finances?" says Carlyle in his immortal his-
tory. "This indeed is the great question; a
small but most black weather symptom which
no radiance of universal hope can cover."
Mr. Kokovtsoff revealed the radiance of uni-
versal hope to the Duma and revealed nothing
else. He is an urbane bureaucrat of a some-
what unusual type, for he belongs to what in
Russia is called the old nobility. He is now
sixty. All he knows about money he learned
from Witte, whose subordinate he was for
many years. The affability for which he is
somewhat noted enabled Mr. Kokovtsoff to
meet the interruptions of the deputies with
serenity, even as, years ago, it kept him on
good terms with both Witte and Plehve when
that pair were in hot dispute for control of
the vacillating mind of their master, the Czar.
Mr. Kokovtsoff is like every well educated
Russian in his remarkable mastery of French,

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EXCLUDED FROM THE RUSSIAN DUMA

At the left of the spectator is seated Professor Mil-
youkoff, an eminent Russian thinker, who was not per-
mitted to take his seat in the last Duma, altho he nad
been duly elected. At the right of the spectator is
seated Mr. Aladin, of Simbirsk, one of the leaders of
the workingmen and peasants in the last Duma. He
is now in this country, having been refused permission
to live and agitate in his constituency.

but he is an anomaly for a bureaucrat, inas-
much as his education has been of the western
European sort. There is a sense in which he
may be deemed the greatest dealer in alco-
holic drinks this world has ever seen, for he
was long at the head of his country's national
monopoly of the traffic in intoxicants. Witte,
in the plenitude of his power, was wont to say
that the problem of the finances could "be
solved only if the Russian peasant would use
more iron. Mr. Kokovtsoff acted upon the
theory that the peasant should drink more
vodka. In his eagerness to swell the revenue
he has made his country the most drunken
nation in the world.

JP IGURES would seem to have been in-
*■ vented for the concealment of Russia's
insolvency, if the European press inference
from what Mr. Kokovtsoff told the Duma be
worth anything. Mr. Kokovtsoff is said to

38o

CURRENT LITERATURE

possess great influence with the financiers and
newspapers of Paris, and they certainly agree
that the constructiveness of his imagination,
so far as his budget reveals it, is overpower-
ing. Dozens of the deputies, observes the
Temps, have never owned a gold coin in the
whole course of their lives. Yet the entire
Duma must have listened to him with a lively
recollection that Mr. Kokovstoff has lately
affirmed his country to be on the verge of
bankruptcy. That statement was set forth in
a secret report to Prime Minister Stolypin
which found its way into the Temps and
caused a fall in Russian securities which no
quantity of official denials could neutralize.
When in the spring of the year before last
that high authority, Mr. Lucien Wolf, asked
in the London Times "Is Russia solvent?" he
was met with a storm of indignant protests
from Mr. Kokovtsoff and his friends. After
two years' experience of the anarchical sys-
tem which prevails in the Russian ministry of
finance, Mr. Kokovtsoff had been brought to
make Mr. Wolf's question secretly his own.
Yet he challenged the London Times to come
to St. Petersburg, or, rather, to send its repre-
sentative there, to count the gold piled high in
the vaults of the ministry. The London daily
refused the invitation as being beyond the
scope of a newspaper's functions. Thereupon
Mr. Kokovtsoff took a member of the House
of Commons through his vaults heaped to the
ceiling with white bags. They were filled,
said Mr. Kokovtsofif, with gold coin. That is
possible, commented the London daily; but it
conjectured that they might have been filled
with sawdust. Mr. Kokovtsofif's optimism as
he faced the Duma last month would indicate
that they were filled with diamonds. Having
demonstrated to bedazzled deputies that Rus-
sia's riches far outshine the wealth of Ormus,
the Minister of Finance urged the negotia-
tion of loans on an appropriately vast scale.

r\ BEYING that tendency to an almost mon-
^^ astic seclusion of life which has grown
upon him in recent years, Nicholas II did not
face his new Duma in person. He is said to
feel just such a dread of crowds as made
James I of England fly with fear from gather-
ings of his subjects. The Czar differentiates
himself markedly from living rulers by spend-
ing his time within a very circumscribed area.
He sees only members of the diplomatic corps,
the exalted bureaucrats and the personages of
his court. It would be comparatively easy to
conceal his death from the world, notes the
Paris Aurore, until such time as the palace

clique had made its arrangements for the suc-
cession. Authentic news of his views con-
cerning the newly assembled Duma are, there-
fore, unobtainable from any source. For the
present, moreover, it is impossible to affirm
or to deny that there is any basis for rumors
that the sovereign's confidence in Prime Min-
ister Stolypin is impaired. Reactionary influ-
ences have been exerted against him. The
Duma is certainly eager to be rid of the pres-
ent instrument of the Czar's policy. The corre-
spondents of western European dailies foretell
all sorts of ministerial combinations in which
the names of Count Witte and Mr. Kokovt-
sof¥, among others, are conspicuous. "The
good God," ejaculates the Paris Debats, "he
knows everything!" Witte is reported pes-
simistic. He fears the worst is yet to come.

NGENIOUS as were those parlia-
mentary provocations wherewith
Mr. Arthur Balfour, in the House
of Commons last month, incited Mr.
Augustine Birrell to disclose some outlines
of the Home Rule bill to which the British are
looking forward so eagerly, the only result
was to whet a universal curiosity by refusing
to satisfy it. "Nothing," retorted the new
chief secretary for Ireland, as he bowed to the
former Prime Minister, "adds so much to the
charm of a landscape as a cloudy haze on the
horizon." But the Prime Minister himself,
Mr. Birrell did venture to say, is perfectly
satisfied that ultimately the only measure that
can give satisfaction to the great majority of
the people of Ireland will be what is gener-
ally called a Home Rule parliament. "I," cried
Mr. Birrell, amid the cheers of the Irish mem-
bers, "am a Home Ruler." So, too, he con-
fessed, is the Prime Minister, Sir Henry
Campbell-Bannerman. Both are sitting up
evening after evening over the details of the
scheme from which is to emerge that parlia-
ment in Dublin of which Parnell dreamed and
which, it seems, Redmond is to realize. But
Mr. Birrell begged Mr. Balfour not to feel
too eager. The bill will be introduced and
that speedily. In the meantime the right hon-
orable gentleman will have a little time to go
about the country "raising this Home Rule
bogie." For the next few weeks, accordingly,
England will perforce know only that the new
Irish bill is to provide a definite form of
self-government in the sister island, and that
the supremacy of the imperial parliament at
London is to be maintained. All this, retorts
Mr. Balfour, is not only a contradiction in

IRELAND AGAIN TO THE FORE

381

terms, but a revelation of the downright dis-
honesty of Mr. Birrell, to say nothing of Sir
Henry.

HTHIS man Birrell, as Mr. Balfour begged
•*■ the Commons to believe, climbed into
power by telling the English at the last elec-
tion that Home Rule is a bogie. "I, like
others," went on the sometime Prime Minis-
ter, with a lively recollection of the vege-
tables with which he was pelted at the time,
"endeavored to unmask this imposture. Like
others, I was unsuccessful." But time, added
Mr. Balfour, is doing what he failed to do.
"The whole fraud is now apparent," There
is yet to be in Dublin a legislature to all in-
tents and purposes independent of the im-
perial parliament unless the eyes of the Eng-
lish be opened in time to the true character of
Augustine Birrell. "It is perfectly vain for
this House," Mr. Balfour likewise said, "to try
to find something which is both Home Rule
and not Home Rule." Yet Mr. James Bryce
— at that moment, by the way, presenting him-
self in the capacity of his Majesty's ambas-
sador before Theodore Roosevelt in Washing-
ton— was involved, like Birrell and the rest,
in the Liberal plot to call Home Rule by
some other name. But on the eve of the
crisis Mr. Bryce handed the Irish government
over to his fellow-conspirator, Birrell, and ran
away to Washington. "He retires to other
duties from the fighting line," said Mr. Bal-
four of Mr. Bryce. "He shouts 'No surren-
der!' at the top of his voice, and he nails his
flag to somebody else's mast — a most felicitous
picture of courage and discretion." This, by
the way, is out of harmony with the London
Outlook's idea that Mr. Bryce had given of-
fense to a certain section of Irish opinion, and
was therefore exiled to America. But the
London Standard's information is that Mr.
Bryce is not sufficiently brisk in retort, not
genial enough in debate, to be intrusted with
so momentous a labor as the conduct of an
Irish bill through the Commons. Mr, Birrell,
with his capacity to raise a laugh at a mo-
ment's notice, was "indicated," as the physi-
cians say.

IRELAND, as Mr. Birrell sympathetically in-
* terpreted her to the House, is "in a state
of comparative peace, comparative crimeless-
ness," but in a state of expectancy. But Mr.
Long, who so recently gave up to Mr, Bryce
the post that Mr. Bryce has now handed over
to Mr. Birrell, told the House of Commons
that "a cruel and tyrannical form of boycot-

ting" now rages all over Ireland. Mr. Birrell
denied it. There is only unrest or disturb-
ance in a few local areas. It is due to the
presence, "in the midst of a sympathetic and
perhaps inflammatory population," of numbers
of evicted tenants whose grievances are per-
petually before the eyes of their neighbors.
Mr. Birrell subsequently admitted that when
he thus spoke he had in mind that venerable
miser and surviving specimen of the rackrent-
ing Irish landlord, the Marquis of Clanri-
carde. Lord Clanricarde, as he is called 'in
the vicinity of Portumna Castle, Gal way,
owns some 60,000 acres of Irish soil, but he
never visits his vast estate. His lordship,
who is kin to the famous Canning, is now
aged and feeble, yet so fond of his money
that, if we may credit all the gossip of the
month in regard to him, he patches his own
trousers to save the tailor's bill. His last
purchase of clothes is averred to have been
made in 1881. These are, however, but local
traditions rescued from oblivion by witty Irish
dailies in regions rendered turbulent through
hundreds of evictions ordered by his Lord-
ship. More than a hundred families, averred
Mr. Dillon in the Commons a few weeks ago,
are living on the open road bordering the
Clanricarde estates. The Freeman's Journal
(Dublin) complains that his Lordship spends
in Ireland an infinitesimal fraction of the rents
he derives from Galway. He does not, ac-
cording to the London News, spend much
more in England. He is the bearer of no less
than four ancient patents of nobility, being a
baron, an earl and a viscount as well as a
marquis. His personal appearance is de-
scribed as that of a superannuated clergyman
run to seed from inadequacy of stipend.

CO GREAT is the discredit into which this
^ "curse to the whole west of Ireland," as
Lord Clanricarde was called in the great de-
bate on what Mr, Redmond termed his "crim-
inal and insane evictions," that Mr, Birrell
himself promised to deprive the great landlord
of the estates from which he is now drawing
$80,000 a year. The purpose will be effected
by special legislation. Lord Clanricarde had
the ill luck to evict by wholesale on the eve
of a Home Rule crisis. That is the explana-
tion of his dilemma offered by the Irish cor-
respondent of the London Telegraph. His
Lordship is admitted to have vast estates, but
the land is for the most part poor. His rents
are exceptionally low. He is no miser. Irish
impressions of the man are caricatures. So
run the accounts given by friends of the noble

382

CURRENT LITERATURE

lord. Mr. Birrell, at any rate, described the
case of Lord Clanricarde to the Commons as
"shocking." He is the type and may become
the classical instance of the absentee land-
lord. His estate is said to have been the scene
of more murders than all the rest of Ireland
taken together. Boycotting in its active form
does not seem to have been directed against
Lord Clanricarde's bailiffs of late. Mr. Bir-
rell and Mr. Long, as we have seen, can not
agree as to whether there is or is not in Ire-
land at this time any such thing as boycotting.

"IS THERE boycotting in your diocese?"
* one Roman Catholic prelate was asked on
the witness stand. "What do you mean by boy-
cotting?" asked the cleric. "I mean," said the
cross-examiner, "the practice that goes by
that name in Ireland now." "A great many
practices," was the reply, "go by that name
in Ireland now," The London Times gives
instances. The method is passive. It con-
sists in not speaking to or buying from or
having anything whatever to do with the vic-
tim or with anybody who deals with him.
Open insult or taunt is never resorted to. One
hears no drumming or blowing of horns. If
the victim enters a shop he is allowed to buy.
But if he wishes to sell land or crops or to dis-
pose of cattle at a fair no one goes near him.
His servants give him legal notice of their
intention to go. They can not be replaced.
He can get no ordinary service from his fel-
low creatures. The blacksmith, the carpenter
and the grocer have no time to fill his orders.
They take his instructions civilly, but put him
off indefinitely. The word "boycott" is never
pronounced. The legal penalties attached to
the practice are evaded. Such are the results
in the south of Ireland of the judicial decision
in what is known as the Tallow conspiracy
case, in which a boycotted plaintiff recovered
$25,000 damages against some nine defend-
ants. In the north of Ireland, where the boy-
cott is more flagrant, the victim, affirms the
London Times, has to walk twenty-seven
miles to get bread, tea and sugar. Mr. Birrell
says such cases are exceptional. Mr. Long
calls them typical. In all that concerns the
crisis in Ireland the opposed parties have each
a set of facts about which the other knows
nothing. Mr. Balfour flatly contradicts Mr.
Bryce, and both gentlemen claim to have first-
hand information. For the moment, however,
Ireland, to employ the London Post's word, is
"quiet." She is waiting for Mr. Birrell. If Mr.
Birrell should offer Ireland a substitute for
the Home Rule she seeks, times may change.

nrO a Prime Minister who, like Sir Henry
•■■ Campbell-Bannerman, is recovering
from an illness, Ireland alone should seem
crisis enough. The statesman's physicians
have warned him away from all-night
sessions of the House of Commons. Yet
one of them stretched over nineteen hours
with Sir Henry in the fiercest heat of debate.
Such ordeals will be child's play, predicts the
London Standard, when Home Rule comes up.
But Home Rule plays second fiddle, in the
opinion of the London Telegraph, to that war
of extermination upon the House of Lords
which Sir Henry means to make final. "At
this present moment," to sum it all up in
the words of the London Times, "the consti-
tutional position of the House of Lords is rap-
idly becoming the one vital question under
which all others are being gathered." The
question is so vital to the Prime Minister, at
any rate, that notwithstanding the violence of
a cold, he arose from his bed of suffering to
denounce the Lords to the Commons. Only
recently, he explained, two great measures de-
manded by the country and elaborated with
pains in the lower house had been destroyed
by the peers. One of these bills had been so
mutilated by their lordships as to fail alto-
gether to accomplish a purpose of which the
voters of the land approved. "The other was
destroyed by the most summary process of *
contemptuous rejection." Having amplified
these phrases by a comparison of the House
of Lords to a watch dog rousing itself from
somnolence "by a sudden access of bitter
ferocity," Sir Henry retired to the private sit-
ting-room of his official residence in Downing
street and summoned the doctors. Opposition
speakers complain that the Prime Minister ab-
sents himself too much from debate. Rarely
does he accomplish any such quantity of talk-
ing as was extracted from him by last month's
bill to bestow the parliamentary suffrage upon
women. Sir Henry supported that measure
in a personal and unofficial capacity, and it
was voted down by the Commons, or rather it
was talked out of the House amid general
protestations of admiration for the female

17 YEBALLS never flashed with fire more
•*— ' lurid than that that kindled in the coun-
tenance of the President of the Board of Trade
when he held up the House of Lords last
month to the execration of Britons. Mr. As-
quith charged the peers in the House of Com-
mons only. Mr. Lloyd-George did the fight-
ing on the platform to vast audiences of those

A NEW EPOCH BEGINS IN SOUTH AFRICA

383

Nonconformists by whom he is beloved.
"What I want to know," shouted he quite re-
cently to his assembled constituents, with
great energy of gesture, "is what good comes
of Liberal victories if the work of the party
is to be frustrated by a house chosen by no-
body, representative of nobody and account-
able to nobody?" He described the peers
"as high born gentlemen whose interest in life
has been and remains chiefly the pursuit of
game." Must the destinies of Britain be for-
ever in the hands of six hundred gamekeep-
ers? Not a twentieth of them have ever
earned the cost of their board and lodging.
Thus the President of the Board of Trade.
"Legalized greed and social selfishness," the
great Welsh Nonconformist went on, "have
their bulwark in the peers." He warned them
all to study the history of the French Revo-
lution. Mr. Balfour asked if the guillotine is to
be set up in Parliament Square.

*
* *

ITH General Botha as its first Prime

Minister, the entry of the late South

African Republic into the rank of

the self-governing commvmities
which compose the British Empire occurred
last month. Thus, within less than five years
of the surrender at Vereeniging, Louis Botha,
commander-in-chief of the forces opposed to
the British in the field, as is pointed out by the
London Times, "the victor of Colenso, of
Spion Kop and of Bakenlaagte," takes the oath
as Edward VH's first minister in what has
been made a British colony. The Botha min-
istry is made up for the most part of members
of the race which England reduced to defeat.
"It relies," admits the London Times some-
what dolefully, "on the votes of a solid pha-
lanx of Boer members" for its lease of power
in the freshly chosen legislature. It has been
affirmed by the more discontented commenta-
tors upon this situation that the complexion of
the new South African government is quite
too much like the looks of the Boer staff in
the late South African war. General Botha
is now forty-four. He speaks English and
Dutch with equal fluency — "or rather," says
the London Post, "equally sparingly, for he
is, as a rule, sententious." The general is a
man of considerable wealth. He lives in a
beautiful home near Pretoria, where he has
been leading the existence of a country gentle-
man for some years. He is an inveterate
reader. One may usually find upon his library
table the latest success from London. The
London dailies express a hope that as Prime cal Gaulois, must go to Canossa.

Minister of the Transvaal the general will be
loyal to Britain, but there are doubting
Thomases. There can be no doubt that Gen-
eral Botha will be the most conspicuous per-
sonality at the approaching colonial confer-
ence in London. He has been invited to a seat
with the Prime Ministers of Australia,
Canada and New Zealand in the council that
is to unify the British Empire.

lUS X assured a French cardinal
last month that he hopes for no
concessions of any kind from the
minstry in Paris headed by Pre-
mier Clemenceau. His Holiness has decided
to refuse henceforth all contributions to
Peter's pence from the faithful in France, ow-
ing to the urgent local necessities of the
Church there. The papal secretary of state.
Cardinal Merry del Val, has let it become
known that the situation at the Vatican, in
regard to all that concerns the war between
Church and State in France, is "almost ludic-
rously misrepresented" by Paris journals.
They speak of Cardinal Rampolla, supported
by one group in the sacred college, gaining the
ear of the sovereign pontiff one day, while
the irreconcilables, headed by Cardinal Vives
y Tuto, are in the ascendant the next. These
alternations of factional supremacy are de-
clared to result from the inability of the
princes of the Church to agree upon a decisive
attitude to the eldest daughter of the Church.
"As a matter of fact," runs the authorized an-
nouncement, "there has seldom, if ever, exist-
ed in Vatican circles a greater unanimity of
opinion than that which surrounds and now
supports the Pope in maintaining a policy with
regard to the French Church." From that
policy the sovereign pontiff has never wav-
ered. It is his own. Cardinal Merry del Val,
the papal secretary of state, never inspired it.
Stories that Spanish and Austrian influences
or German prelates instigated the Pope to dis-
regard the material interests of the Roman
Catholic religion in France are pronounced
calumnies. Nor is papal policy swayed by the
religious orders in anything pertaining to
Church and State throughout the third repub-
lic. The Pjope insists that he is waiting only
to discuss all differences with France on their
own merits, and to arrive at an open settle-
ment. The Clemenceau ministry persists in its
refusal to negotiate with an alien authority
interfering, as it charges, with French do-
mestic politics. Somebody, predicts the cleri-

Persons in the Foreground

THE SEVEN RAILWAY KINGS OF AMERICA

F RAILWAY presidents in the
United States there are hundreds.
Of railway kings there are but
seven. The president is the ex-
ecutive chief of a single line. The king is the
financial ruler of a system of affiliated lines.
He may not be even an officer of any one line
and yet be the king of the system. Mr. J.
Pierpont Morgan, for instance, does not hold
any important railroad office, yet he is the
monarch over one-fifth of the mileage of the
United States. Ex-Judge William H. Moore,
the king of the Rock Island system, is only a
director of the road. Ability to run a railroad
is one thing. Ability to finance a railroad or a
system of railroads is another thing.

The seven kings in the order of their im-
portance are: J. Pierpont Morgan, Edward H.
Harriman, William K. Vanderbilt, Henry C.
Frick, James J. Hill, George J. Gould and
William H. Moore. Their domain comprises
more than 161,000 miles of railroad track with
earnings of $1,776,000,000 a year. Outside of
their seven dominions are to be found but
25 per cent, of the total mileage of the coun-
try, and but 15 per cent, of the railroad earn-
ings. This nation of forty-five sovereign
states seems to be entering into a struggle
with these seven kings and their army of offi-
cers and employees. The contest is attracting
the attention of all Europe and of the Orient
as well, and the personal characters of the
seven men become a subject of general in-
terest,

Mr. Morgan has reached the age of three
score years and ten, "the scarred victor of a
hundred battles." He was born to the career
he has pursued. His father was a prominent
banker. On both sides Mr. Morgan inherits
famous New England blood. John Pierpont
the poet and James Pierpont the clergyman
were his maternal ancestors. He was born in
Hartford and schooled in Bostoa and Got-
tingen, Germany. He began his training as
a banker before he was twenty-one. A few
years ago it was estimated that his bank repre-
sented 1,100,000,000 dollars. No other manor
number of men, according to Judge Gary,
could have accomplished what Morgan did
when he organized the United States Steel

Corporation. But he has been more than a
financial magnate. His interest in art and his
active work in connection with the Metropoli-
tan Museum of New York City are widely
known, and more than once his art purchases
i- Europe have disturbed governmental cir-
cles and excited parliamentary discussions.
His interest in religious affairs has been equal-
ly constant, if not equally potent. He has par-
ticipated in the national councils of the Prot-
estant Episcopal Church, and one of the sights
worth seeing in New York of a Sunday is
Pierpont Morgan passing around the plate at
Dr. Rainsford's church, or what was Dr.
Rainsford's church up to a year ago. There
is no doubt that this requires some self-denial
on his part, for this great man has a peculiar-
ity of personal appearance in regard to which
he is excusably sensitve. None of his photo-
graphs is as veracious as that portrait that
Cromwell sat for when he insisted on being
painted just as he was, warts and all. Mr.
Morgan's nasal organ is not only large enough
to cast Cyrano de Bergerac's into the shade,
but it is red and bulbous. Aside from it the
whole appearance of the man speaks of power.
Of impressive physical bulk, he has a firm
tread, a splendid brain-box, large features, and
his every gesture is masterful. His words are
few and weighty. 'Writing of Morgan as he
appeared in 1901, when he took up the task
of organizing the steel "trust," Herbert N.
Casson, in Munsey's, says:

"No man aroused more fear or higher respect
in Wall Street. No one was so terribly masterful
as he. Like Luther, when he spoke Tiis words
were half battles.' To anger him was to brave
the rage of an incarnate Bessemer converter. In
whatever group he sat, he dominated those around
him as if he were the ruler of a constellation of
worlds instead of a mere inhabitant of a single
planet"

Next in importance to Morgan comes Mr.
E. H. Harriman, now rapidly becoming one
of the best-known of all the great financiers
in his personal qualities, but up to a few
weeks ago, before he came out of his shell,
one of the least known. His career has been
too recently sketched in these pages to do any-
thing now but add a few touches from later
sources. Frederick Palmer has a graphic

"ALMOST MORE THAN A MAN— A BRITISH-AMERICAN INSTITUTION"

That is the phrase with which Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan is described by an enthusiastic magazine writer. No other
man in the realm of nigh finance has elicited such superlative praise from his associates. "Mr. Morgan," says one,
"is the biggest man this age has seen, and will continue the biggest until he leaves the world of activity of his own
accord." Another zealous financier declares that within twenty years a statue of Morgan will be placed in some
public square to commemorate his wonderful organizing ability.

"I HAVE BEEN A PACK-HORSE ALL MY LIFE'

Mr. Edward H. Harriman is described by Frederick Palmer as "the least obtrusive of any great millionaire with
whom I have ever come in contact." The same writer gives this pen-sketch: "His slight figure is wiry, enduring, suiB-
cient to carry the great mentality, and his eyes are young, very young, for his years — eyes which can twinkle with a
subtle humor and a kindly humor, but oftener on duty snap or say: 'You do that!' in a way that saves words. His
big forehead and his eyes belong to a giant about twelve feet in height, and you soon cease to see anything else."

THE DREAMER WHO DOES THINGS

James J. Hill's first name should be Joseph, for, like the lad who was sold by his brothers into slavery, Hill has
always been seeing visions, and then with great practical ability proceeding to realize them. Wall Street is said to
have no charms for him. He would rather drink a bowl of buttermilk with one of the farmers along the line of his
railroads and talk over the best way to improve the breed of hogs than to take luncheon with J. Pierpont Morgan
and exchange views on what Harriman is going to do next. Hill and Harriman are at sword's point; but "any-
how," says Harriman proudly, "he calls me Ed.

Photograph by AhiTan & Co., N. Y.

"THE RAILROAD ARISTOCRAT"

Mr. William K. Vanderbilt, instead of achieving financial greatness as most of the present kings of finance have
had to do, was born financially great, and it is only within the last few years that he has wakened from a lethargy
that placed his roads at a great disadvantage in competition with other systems. Half his time has been of late years
■pent in Fra;jce, His friendship with Harriman has been one of the latter's strongest assets in reaching bis present
position.

A RAILROAD KING BY RIGHT OF INHERITANCE

George J. Gould is described as "the sick man of the railroad powers." He has ambition and energy and courage,
but not as much of either as is required in coping with the masters of men who have fought their way to the head of
other railway systems. He is, however, the youngest man of the group by fourteen years.

ONCE A BOOKKEEPER IN A DISTILLERY, NOW A RAILROAD KING OF THE FIRST MAGNITUDE

Mr. Henry C. Frick has had a powerful hand in many big transactions, but he is described as being as unostenta-
tious m his personal affairs as in his business dealings. "For him no hobnobbing with prince and potentates, no
dazzling trail along the Great White Way, no architectural monstrosities, no amatory entanglements or quick-lunch
divorces. Wealth has not turned his head nor altered the even tenor of his way."

Photograph hy Mishkiii, N. Y.

"THE SPHINX OF THE ROCK ISLAND"

Ex-Judge William H. Moore is perhaps the foremost representative in America of what has developed into a new
profession — that of "promoter." Originally a corporation lawyer, he has played a leading part in organizing great
industrial concerns loosely called trusts, and is now numbered among the biggest of the railroad financiers. He is
regarded as Harriman's pet foe.

392

CURRENT LITERATURE

portrayal of Harriman at close range in a re-
cent number of Collier's. He writes:

"My first glimpse of the real man was on a
voyage. When the ocean is the Pacific, and there
are few people aboard, you learn your fellow pas-
sengers pretty well; so you did on this occasion,
including two United States Senators. Harriman
spent more time with the engineer than with
them. . . .

"On the whole, he was the least obtrusive of
any great millionaire with whom I have ever
come in contact. Whether he is doing a kindness
or doing business, he never uses words where
thought or action will take their place. I noticed
that when he told a steward to move a lady's
chair to a better position it was in an undertone
of brevity. The lady did not know of "his thought-
fulness. She would if James J. Hill had been in
Harriman's place. Pierpont Morgan's politeness
would have had the aplomb of a Jove.

"We started from Yokohama with the idea of
beating the record to San Francisco. A smooth
sea all the way meant an even chance of success.
This disappeared for everybody except Harriman
when the first three days were entirely unpro-
pitious. I think that he thought we must succeed
because he himself was aboard. When some one
offered him a bet of $2,000 to $1,000 that he would
fail he took it. Then he started out to win the
bet with all the zest that he has shown in obtain-
ing control over a new railroad. Fair weather
broke the next day and continued. We began to
feel that the quiet little man was putting de-
moniacal energy into the stokers and into the
very engines. By the dramatic space of a few
minutes he won. Harriman never advertised the
fact that he gave the $2,000 to the engine-room
crew. Winning was the point in mind."

Mr. Harriman is in the habit, according to
Mr. Palmer, of working with characteristic in-
tensity for but four days of the week, and of
playing the other three. "When he plays, he
is a boy, and the younger the people he plays
with the better he likes it. People who know
him at play wonder how he can ever hold his
own in Wall Street." Even his Wall Street
enemies, Mr. Palmer adds, would have to
like Mr. Harriman a little if they saw how he
likes children. Next to the President, how-
ever, the Street dislikes him more than any
other living man, because he keeps his par-
ticular game dark. To quote again:

"It is characteristic of him to decide one minute
about a matter of millions and the next to show
a clerk how to perform his task more simply and
definitely. If the Government owned the rail-
roads, probably Harriman would be the best man
to manage them. Love of power plays a greater
part in his character than love of money. If he
had commanded an army against the country's
enemies as efficiently as he has commanded a rail-
road system, his laconic remarks would be historic
and he would be a hero and poor instead of rich.
When in nine years he has made such a powerful
system, what may he not do in the next nine if
unimpeded? He may satisfy his ambition to run
a through sleeper from New York to San Fran-

cisco. Or, hard times and Government action
may cut in two the mileage he now controls. He
marks an epoch. The epoch is on trial and not
his personality. The jury is the people of the
communities not always on 'the main line of re-
sults' throughout the country, whose relations
with the railroads are as intimate as that of a
fishing village to the sea. And the discussion has
only begun."

Among the seven kings of the railroads
Harriman has but two allies — Frick and Van-
derbilt. Morgan, Hill, Gould and Moore are
all his financial enemies.

Mr. Henry C. Frick, who is on friendly re-
lations with Harriman and the Standard Oil
group, is also adroit enough to maintain close
relations with Mr. Morgan and at the same
time to maintain his independence. He is
credited with being to-day, at the age of 57,
the dominant man in the Pennsylvania system,
the ruler in the political affairs of the Key-
stone state, and one of the organizers and
prominent manipulators of the big steel cor-
poration. He is said to be "probably the most
unpopular man in Pittsburg among his fellow
financiers," but his power is not denied. He
more than any other one man was responsible
for the Homestead riots years ago, being at
that time the manager of the Carnegie mills;
yet in spite of the bitter hatred aroused on the
part of workingmen — culminating in an an-
archistic attack upon his life — he has, since
the death of Quay, stepped into the position
of political dictator of the state. He is adroit,
unostentatious and a tireless worker. Accord-
ing to general belief, it was he who selected
Knox for United States Senator and who se-
lected McCrea for the president of the Penn-
sylvania Railroad when Cassatt died. Says
a recent newspaper writer: "Frick, more than
any of his compeers, is goaded by the Alex-
andrian thirst for conquest, and conquest
alone, not simply the spoils of victory except
as they may be useful in helping to other con-
quests."

As to his private life, a World writer has
this to say:

"There is nothing Pecksniffian about Mr.
Frick's rectitude. He preaches no homilies, con-
ducts no Sunday-schools, endows no libraries, has
never fathered any set of maxims on how to win
success and is absolutely callous to the fear of
dying disgraced through riches. . . . Neither
has Mr. Frick advertised the folly of Pittsburg's
sudden wealth. He is as unostentatious in his
personal affairs as in his business dealings. For
him no hobnobbing with prince and potentates,
no dazzling trail along the Great White Way, no
architectural monstrosities, no amatory entangle-
ments or quick lunch divorces. Wealth has not
turned his head nor altered the even tenor of his
life. His one fad is wholly admirable — flowers,

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

393

and he shares it with the people of Pittsburg, who
are welcomed annually to the great chrysanthe-
mum display in the Frick conservatories. His
new summer residence at Pride's Crossing is
probably the most ambitious display of wealth he
has ever permitted himself, and that is merely in
keeping with the solid fortunes of neighboring
estates."

One thing to their credit may be said of the
railway kings of to-day: they are not railroad
wreckers. Harriman has come dangerously
near to being a wrecker at times in his stock
manipulations, but he has, on the whole, been
a builder, and when he has destroyed it was
seen later than he was sacrificing lesser proj-
ects for something greater. But only one of
the seven men has obtained his supremacy be-
cause of his practical knowledge of the rail-
road business as distinct from railroad
financing. That one man is James J. Hill,
now in his sixty-ninth year. The other men
have taken roads already developed and by
combinations and organization schemes in-
creased their power and efficiency. Hill was
a railroad pioneer before he became a railroad
king. He has dreamed and dared and done
things. He is more of an empire-builder than
any other man in the business, and his real
development work has been done in the north-
west, instead of in Wall Street.

William K. Vanderbilt and George J. Gould
are men of character and ability; but they
have not had to fight their way up as the
other railway kings have done, and they lack,
in consequence, the masterfulness that comes
of such conquest. They are railroad kings
not because their personal qualities marked
them out for such a career, but because it was
forced upon them, so to speak, by inheritance.
Gauged by any ordinary standards they have
acquitted themselves very creditably; but they

have wholly failed to keep up the pace that has
been set for them by their rivals, and railroad
men are disposed to speak slightingly of them
these days. The truth probably is that neither
man felt that the running of his father's or
grandfather's railroads was the only thing the
Creator had placed him here for, and each has
been attracted by other joys than those in the
arena of conflict. Mr. Vanderbilt especially has
been an absentee king for a large part of the
time, while big men were breaking their backs
and reputations trying to run his roads. Gould
has been more attentive to his kingdom and
his industry is considerable. What he lacks
is that supreme development of nerve that
comes only as the result of long fighting and
hard-won victories. He is in the prime of
life, being but 43 years of age, and he may
yet develop qualities that will place him
among the real masters of men. He is the
youngest of all the railway kings. Mr. Frick,
the next youngest, is fourteen years his elder,
being 57. Mr. Vanderbilt is 58, Mr. Harri-
man and Judge Moore are each 59, Mr. Hill
is 69 and Mr. Morgan 70. George Gould has
many years in which to "make good."

Ex- Judge Moore, "the sphinx of the Rock
Island," as he is called, has kept himself out
of the limelight successfully, so far as his per-
sonality is concerned. He is an Amherst
man, but not an Amherst graduate, ill health
cutting short his collegiate career. He went
to Wisconsin to study law and to Chicago to
practice it, making a specialty of corporation
law. He and his younger brother, James H.,
developed a genius for promotion of cor-
porate enterprises, including the Carnegie
Steel Co., the Diamond Match Co., the Na-
tional Biscuit Co., the American Tin Plate
Co. and the American Steel Plate Co.

THE MOST CONSPICUOUS FIGURE IN ENGLISH
POLITICS TO-DAY

IFTY-SEVEN, short of stature,
bespectacled, gray-haired, married,
of melancholy mien, the father of
five daughters, a lover of long
walks, fond of fishing and given to the smok-
ing of long clay pipes, Augustine Birrell, hav-
ing got the education bill through the House
of Commons, now faces a labor to which
Gladstone was unequal — the establishment by
law of a legislative body to sit in Dublin and
deal with Irish as distinguished from British
affairs. The most conspicuous figure in Eng-

lish politics to-day, therefore, is the thin-
lipped, stockily built lover of books and chil-
dren who has so recently succeeded James
Bryce in the office of Chief Secretary for Ire-
land. For months past, in fact, all England
has rung with the name of Augustine Birrell.
Yet he was not a member of the last parlia-
ment, and he is still in a way a newcomer in
his country's politics. It is quite true that pre-
viously to 1900 he spent eleven years "very
happily," to quote his own words, in the House
of Commons. He did so, however, in its

394

CURRENT LITERATURE

"corners and purlieus" as remote as possible
from the benches upon which sit members of
the minstry, those high and mighty ones at
whom he was wont to gaze, he has said, "with
feelings of amazement, amusement and ad-
miration alternately striving for mastery"
within his soul. He is now on those benches
himself.

Augustine Birrell began life badly by being
the wag and bright fellow at school, and he
had the additional misfortune later to write a
volume of "Obiter Dicta" in what he has
described as a "misguided moment" and one
which he is now anxious to forget. But he
has still to live down his past, still to con-
vince his country that he is no mere man of
letters turned politician, but a hard-working
barrister and professor of law who has done
much to build up the Liberal party as Eng-
land knows it now, and who incidentally wrote
some essays upon his favorite authors —
Doctor Johnson, Hazlitt, Lamb and so forth.
Mr. Birrell was never even inside the read-
ing room of the British Museum until years
after the publication of his "Obiter Dicta,"
and he is one of the highest living authorities
on the legal liabilities of trustees. The accu-
sation that he is nothing but a man of letters
was hurting him at North Bristol a year or
more ago, when he stood for Parliament there.
But Mr. Birrell satisfied his constituents that
literature, like pedestrianism and golf, is sim-
ply one of his recreations. It was a time
when any Tom, Dick and Harry could be
elected on the Liberal ticket, and the author of
"Obiter Dicta" returned to the House of Com-
mons after a long exile from its benches.

Augustine Birrell has described himself as
a Nonconformist born and bred, a man nur-
tured in Nonconformist history and Noncon-
formist traditions, one who might almost be
described as having been born in a Noncon-
formist library. He was born, at any rate, in
the home of that sometime prominent Noncon-
formist clergyman. Rev. Charles Birrell, who
disliked the Church of England so much that
he forbade his youngest son, our Augustine,
to study the church catechism. Augustine,
however, was attending the Church of Eng-
land school in Liverpool, the foundation stone
of which was laid by Mr. Gladstone. "I need
scarcely say," he told a crowded House of
Commons years later, "it was a thoroly sound
Church of England establishment from top to
bottom." When Augustine, barely in his teens,
was asked to claim from his master exemption
from the Church catechism he flatly refused
to do anything of the kind. In consequence

he can, Nonconformist tho he be, repeat it
to-day. He knew what it was in those days
to be what was called "a minority child."
Englishmen belonging always to a dominant
sect never realize what it is to be a minority
child. "If they had had that experience which
has always been mine," says Augustme Bir-
rell, "they would have known that uniformity
is the very creed of childhood, and that any
reasonable child would far sooner be wicked
than singular." This bit of autobiography was
imparted to a packed House in the loud
roar, like a bassoon, for which the voice of
Augustine Birrell is famous, and the right
honorable gentleman was interrupted by the
wildest laughter. His mother, herself the
daughter of a Nonconformist clergyman, had,
it seems, some notion of rearing Augustine in
the traditional profession of the family. One
of his earliest recollections is of walking down
the main street of Wavertree — the village just
outside Liverpool in which he was born — and
seeing a "noisy crowd" parading to "a hideous
blare on musical instruments." Augustine's
nurse told him the mob was celebrating the
battle of the Boyne. From that moment he
dates a hatred of "the tradition of bigotry"
which kept him out of the clerical profession.
So he passed from Liverpool College — still
studying the Church catechism — to Cambridge,
became a barrister at twenty-five and found
himself, after a year of married life, a wid-
ower at twenty-nine. Not until he was thirty-
four did his first published book, "Obiter
Dicta," see the light. He had entered his for-
tieth year before he got into parliament, where
for nearly a dozen years he remained in ob-
scurity, only to go out in defeat at last. It
looked as if Augustine Birrell must be content
with lecturing on the duties and liabilities of
trustees — he did it learnedly — or with editing
Boswell's Johnson, publishing collected essays
and that sort of thing. He had, to be sure,
married the widow of Lionel Tennyson and
was bringing up an interesting family of chil-
dren partly on the Church catechism and part-
ly in the traditions of Nonconformity. He had
likewise manifested adroitness of a rare kind
in the compilation and circulation of political
campaign literature for the Liberal organiza-
tion in England. But nobody dreamed that as
he approached sixty Augustine Birrell would
become the most conspicuous figure in the pub-
lic life of his country.

It is to the fact that he is of all humorists
the most persuasive that the new chief secre-
tary for Ireland owes his compelling position
in the House of Commons. That most meta-

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

395

physical of humorists, Arthur Balfour, is
scornfully facetious. Should a private mem-
ber entreat Mr. Balfour to explain himself,
the Conservative leader will ironically apolo-
gize for his own lack of perspicacity, the de-
ficiency of his own intelligence which neutral-
izes all further effort to be lucid. The private
member collapses amidst the general hilarity.
The Prime Minister, Sir Henry Campbell-
Bannerman, is savagely facetious, never hesi-
tating to compare some honorable friend to a
gas meter or to a ferocious animal. It is only
Augustine Birrell who can be lovably face-
tious. The point of his finest shaft, while al-
ways of burnished quality, is without the
elongated barb that makes the thrust of Joseph
Chamberlain so stabbing. Mr. Birrell always
turns the laugh against himself. "I lay no
flattering unction to my soul," he said in his
great speech on the education bill when he
apologized for being an absurd person. "I
know full well what you have all come here ex-
pecting for to see — a reed shaken by the wind,
quivering and trembling in these icy blasts of
sectarian differences which more than any-
thing else nip the buds of piety and reference."
And a little later: "But I must not to be too
gloomy too soon." Mr. Birrell's appearance
is conceded to be gloomy, altho never too
gloomy, in its delightful antithesis to his lan-
guage. Grave in all his exterior, in look,
gesture, tone and walk, he has a drollery of
language that springs from the workmgs of
his mind upon the circumstances in which he
finds himself politically. He was characteris-
tically lugubrious, for instance, when compar-
ing the House of Commons during one of its
great debates to a week's wash fluttering in
the wind:

"On such occasions the House of Commons has
reminded me of a great drying ground where all
the clothes of a neighborhood may be seen flut-
tering in a gale of wind. There are nightgowns
and shirts and petticoats so distended and dis-
torted by the breeze as to seem the garments of
a race of giants rather than of poor mortal men.
Even the stockings of some slim maiden, when
pufifed out by the lawless wind, assume dropsical
proportions. But the wind sinks, having done
its task, and then the matter-of-fact washer-
woman unpegs the garments, sprinkles them with
water and ruthlessly passes over them her flat
irons — when lo and behold! these giants' robes
are reduced to their familiar, domestic and insig-
nificant proportions."

To this ought to be added Mr, Birrell's pub-
lic acknowledgment that "there was a time
when I really desired to be witty." That as-
piration long since died within him.

It has been hinted that such Birrellism, as
they call it in England, derives an adventitious

THE HUMORIST WHO IS WRESTLING WITH
THE PROBLEM OF IRISH HOME RULE
Augustine Birrell, the persuasive orator and wit of
the English ministry, has been entrusted with a labor
to which Gladstone proved unequal, the establishment
by law of a system of self-government in Ireland.

luster from the sepulchral melancholy of the
man, the grim compression of the wide, thin
lips, the stern glare of eyes undimmed
after lifelong study of all great books, the un-
compromising squareness of the jaw. All
these taken together are indescribably less
mournful than Mr. Birrell's tone of voice when
he is on his legs in the House of Commons or
when, at the Johnson Club, taking a pipe from
his mouth, he begins: "Brother dunces, lend
me your ears — not to crop, but that I may
whisper into their furry depths." His perfect
good faith on such occasions is substantiated in
the opinion of his friends by his well-known
dislike of actors and of actresses. Yet he is
fond of the theater, or at any rate goes often
to the play. It is recorded that he sits through
a comedy with great solemnity, not that he
appreciates no wit, but because he can never
divest his countenance of that forlorn expres-
sion which makes him look like a murderer. A
big, strong woman slapped him in the face in
North Bristol and cried, "The murderer of
Gordon I" when he came to the house to solicit

396

CURRENT LITERATURE

her husband's vote. The Chief Secretary for
Ireland, who was only president of the Board
of Education then, took to his heels, while the
woman called "Death!" after him. Mr. Bir-
rell has never canvassed his constituents since.
"The slap," he explains, "was very effective."

Mr, Birrell rises early, eats a light break-
fast, and goes for a stroll through one of the
London parks. It is while in the open air
that he puts together the fragments of those
speeches in the Commons which the parlia-
mentary reporter punctuates so frequently with
"laughter," "loud laughter" or "loud and pro-
longed laughter." Mr. Birrell has complained
that while pondering some oratorical effect in
Battersea Park he is likely to be surrounded
by a swarm of children all actuated by one
longing — namely, to ascertain the time from
him. Now that he is the pillar of a ministry,
Mr. Birrell can give less personal attention
than of yore to his practice as a barrister. But
he retains his chambers in Lincoln's Inn as a
member of one of the four societies of great
antiquity which, like so many medieval gilds,
prescribe conditions of fitness for barristers.
Mr. Birrell has attained the exalted dignity of
a bencher of the Inner Temple. His airy,
cheerful chambers lure him daily as of yore.
He still dons silk and a wig for his frequent
hour or two in court. He possesses one of the
best private law libraries in England. He is
certainly the most learned jurist who ever
held the Quain professorship of law. At the
big writing-table near the window of his cham-
bers Mr. Birrell spends many a morning, but
the picture of Doctor Johnson over the man-
telpiece is the only evident concession he
makes to literature here. His professional
income from a most successful practice at the
bar is said to be expressible in nothing less
than five figures.

Augustine Birrell, however, is not in that
class of distinguished statesmen of whom it is
complained that the personal element merges
itself in the official. His character is not tech-
nical, but human. There is not the least sug-
gestion in his deportment of debates, of meas-
ures of state, of crushing responsibilities. He
sits unpretentiously on the corner of a table,
swinging one leg back and forth, as he listens
stolidly to some grievance of a deputation.
One never sees him, or very rarely, in the long
frock coat and black high hat to which the
conventional type of English political leader is
so wedded. His every-day attire is a plain
black suit, lacking any crease in the trousers,
the coat being of the kind we call sack, and the
general effect suggesting that Mr. Birrell sel-

dom has his clothes pressed. He afifects, too,
that glaring anomaly in a London banister — a
colored shirt. With his billycock hat stuck
far back upon his head and with his pipe in
his mouth, he permits the natural man to pre-
dominate over the artificial character of office
by running nimbly for a 'bus. His recreations
are not of that expensive kind which make
his right honorable friend, Arthur Balfour,
one of the most enthusiastic motorists in Eng-
land. But he shares with that gentleman a
keen delight in golf. There is a first-class links
near Mr. Birrell's country home at Shering-
ham, and there he will practice his shots time
after time like a billiard player. Mr. Balfour
keeps a separate golfing wardrobe, but Mr.
Birrell is content to wear out his old clothes
on the links. He has had the misfortune to
have temporarily, at least, lost his "form" ow-
ing to the heavy parliamentary duty imposed
upon him by the luckless education bill. His
friends look forward to some more of his beau-
tiful tee shots this summer.

For a man whose reputation is so literary
he professes much disdain for great accumu-
lations of books and remarkable contempt for
Browning societies and Dante clubs. Any
writer one likes to read, he insists, is more
profitable than the choicest classic. "Far bet-
ter really to admire Miss Gabblegoose's novels
than to pretend to admire Jane Austen's." His
most intimate friends are not literary. He
boasts that he has no favorite author. Yet
he does love book-collecting, and is something
of an authority on the "finds" that sometimes
reward a careful search in the humbler shops,
notwithstanding the ubiquity of the expert
dealer in London. It would be wrong, how-
ever, to deem Mr. Birrell a bibliophile in the
conventional sense. He reads for the pleasure
of it and writes only about those authors who
interest him. "It is the first business of an
author," says Mr. Birrell, "to arrest and then
retain the attention of the reader. To do this
requires great artifice." Mr. Birrell, pen in
hand, has great artifice. Mr. Birrell on the
platform or in the House has none. An in-
comparably vivid personality makes artifice
superfluous unless it be artifice to pound a
desk or table energetically and bellow one's
convictions genially. Mr. Birrell has a voice
to rattle windows with. But he is not always
loud. He has no platform manner. He drops
in on his audience for a chatty visit, tells a
little of the story of his life and fills all listen-
ers with wonder that so delightfully free and
facetious a person can be a great minister of
state.

Literature and Art

DOES PRESENT-DAY FICTION MAKE FOR IMMORALITY?

HE modern novel, according to a
writer in the London Bystander,
is directed mainly toward the abuse
of the institution of macrimony.
"Whereas the old-fashioned novelist," he re-
marks, "invariably rang down the curtain on
a happy marriage, the writer of the day rings
it up on an unhappy one, and the reader enters
a world of incompatibility, infidelity, envy,
hatred and malice. Love is only sweet when
it is illicit; solemnized, it is sour."

This sensational charge reflects a sentiment
that seems to be spreading nowadays, and the
alleged "immorality" of contemporary fiction
is being discussed both in England and this
country. The problems involved in the dis-
cussion can hardly be discussed lightly. They
may be said, without exaggeration, to touch
the life of the whole English-speaking race.
For no other form of literature is read so
widely as the novel ; no influence in modern
life is more pervasive than that which comes
from the printed page.

Dr. Robertson Nicoll, the editor of The
British Weekly (London), has lately devoted
a leading article to "The Morality of Present-
Day Fiction." He takes the position that "it
was never more necessary than it is now to
scrutinize the novels that are allowed to enter
families," and he illustrates the "unhealthy"
tendencies of latter-day fiction by citing four
of the newest novels. The first, which he does
not wish to advertise and therefore does not
name, is described as "an argument against
marriage, and in favor of free love." In this
book one couple is portrayed living happily
in a "free union," another couple is shown
married, but "miserably unhappy, filled with
disgust and loathing for each other." The
second illustration is furnished by a novel,
also unnamed, in which "the whole interest is
that of sex, and the story is concerned with a
country girl ruined by one man, marrying
another, and forsaking her husband when her
betrayer returned and claimed her." Here,
too, "all is debased. The atmosphere is that of
fatalism. Sin is inevitable and therefore ex-
cusable." The third novel cited is "The
Whirlwind," by Eden Philpotts, a tale of
primitive sex-passions and fierce jealousies.
In this case, while the moral law is respected,

the total effect, says Dr. Nicoll, is "not up-
lifting or purifying." He turns, finally, to an
American novel, Mary Wilkins Freeman's lat-
est, "By the Light of the Soul," finding in it
a lamentable evidence of warped literary pow-
ers. The Miss Wilkins of "A Humble Ro-
mance" and "A Far-Away Melody" has be-
come the Mrs. Freeman of pessimistic novels,
of "sickly and unwholesome" sentiment. In a
paragraph summing up his conclusions Dr.
Nicoll says:

"There has been during the last few years a
steadily growing favor for the novel of passion.
It was checked severely by the Vizetelly prose-
cution, but publishers and authors have apparently
lost their timidity. ... I do not wish to take
U'^ any impossible attitude on the subject, but I
do think that it is the duty of those responsible
to protect the young so far as it is possible from
the evils not only of corrupting literature, but of
books the tendency of which is at best dubious."

Dr. Nicoll would doubtless regard the tone
of an article on "Insular Fiction" in the cur-
rent Edinburgh Review as a vindication of
his alarmist attitude. The Review writer ex-
presses himself indirectly, rather than direct-
ly, but makes it clear that, in his opinion, the
fiction of the day is suffering from the domi-
nation of conventional ideas, that is, of "sen-
timentality, domesticity and propriety." He
instances such novels as "The Guarded
Flame," "Prisoners" and "The Call of the
Blood" as examples of the work of authors
who have handled the sex question too gin-
gerly, who have failed because they were
afraid to "let themselves go." He concludes:

"The convention prevails ; prevails, be it under-
stood, not over the men whose work will endure,
who are indifferent to all national impulsion and
restriction, but oyer those who occupy the more
important place, in popular esteem, in the appre-
ciation of the omnivorous consumers of fiction
whose conclusions are qualified rather by appetite
than by taste. The risk art runs from the second-
rate arises not from the public fondness for it.
but from a misapprehension of its importance ;
and the mischief wrought by the British conven-
tion, both to readers and writers, is assisted in
this country by the paucity of a disinterested and
determinate assessment of literary values."

In this country discussion of the supposed
immoralities of the novel has run along some-
what different lines. One writer, a New
York journalist, finds Dr. Nicoll's arguments

398

CURRENT LITERATURE

superficial and misleading. It is absurd, he
thinks, to regard a novel as immoral simply
because immorality is depicted in it; for the
novelist necessarily employs "the help of the
knowledge of evil, as well as the help of the
knowledge of good." Moral standards are
changing in our day. Our attitude toward
morality in general, toward marriage in par-
ticular, has undergone a vast transformation.
The novel has naturally mirrored these
changed standards. But no novels could be
more sternly ethical than some of the latest
and most widely read, such as Margaret De-
land's "Awakening of Helena Richie" and
Lucas Malet's "Far Horizon."

The fact is, says Prof. Albert Schinz, of
Bryn Mawr College, two main tendencies are
clearly discernible in current novels. There
is, first of all, the tendency to portray life
strictly within the bounds of the moral code
as at present defined. There is, secondly, the
tendency to write irrespective of the present
moral code; and this kind of fiction may be
either non-ethical, in the sense that it aims at
an artistic impression rather than an ethical
truth, or it may be intensely moral in the
sense that, under the guise of an apparent im-
morality, it seeks to inculcate higher ethical
ideals. Under this latter head Professor

Schinz classifies such novels and plays as those
of Bernard Shaw. He goes on to say (in
The International lournal of Ethics) :

"The question cannot be settled once for all
from a merely theoretical point of view and sub
specie aeternatis; the truth is that a work of art
— novel, drama, painting, etc. — may be considered
excellent in one country and bad in another, and
may be judged in like manner with reference to
two different publics in the same country. The
famous words of Pascal: 'Verite en dega des
Pyrenees, erreur au dela' (What is truth on this
side of the Pyrenees may be falsehood on the
other) cannot yet be used in a purely ironical
sense; they express actual condition.

"We are not then surprised at the attitude taken
in regard to French literature or to the writings
of Bernard Shaw by the majority of moralists in
America; they read French authors and judge
them bad because their books are not suited for
the general American public, especially for the
masses. But in France the educated portion of
society form a separate circle which allows not
only the treatment of topics that would be ob-
jectionable for the masses, but a treatment of them
from another than the conventional point of view.

"When one remembers that nearly all the ortho-
dox views of today were once heterodox, it may
easily follow that the moral standards held at
present will in time give place to others. New con-
ceptions work slowly; but ideas advanced by the
educated strata of society gradually filter down to
the uneducated. Therefore, in the writer's opinion,
an 'aristocratic intellectuelle' is necessary, and in
the long run will contribute to the general welfare."

GEORGE MOORE'S ONSLAUGHT ON PURITANISM IN
LITERATURE AND LIFE

HE pagans are all dead with the
exception of George Moore and
d'Annunzio." Such is the dictum
of The Evening Post. The pagan-
ism of George Moore, it goes on to say, lifts
its head and roars aloud in his latest book, the
"Memoirs of My Dead Life,"* and in the
preface, which assumes the form of an Apolo-
gia, Mr. George Moore, according to the
same authority, "destroys Christianity and
the family, and substitutes for the Bible
Gautier's 'Mademoiselle de Maupin.' " Un-
doubtedly Mr. Moore, whose "Confessions of
a Young Man" and later novels, "Esther
Waters," "Evelyn Innes" and "The Lake,"
have made him one of the most potent forces
in contemporary English letters, regards his
literary message as "messianic," and reveres
in Gautier's erotic production "the golden
book of spirit and sense."
The provocation for Mr. Moore's preface

'Memoirs of My Dead Lifb. By George Moore. D.
Appleton & Company.

was the refusal of his American publishers to
be, in Schopenhauer's immortal phrase, "flat-
tened against the sublime wisdom of the East,
like bullets fired against a cliff." They pro-
posed to "simply take out parts" of the au-
thor's accounts of his amatory experience, or,
as he expresses it, to make of his book "a sort
of unfortunate animal whose destiny it was to
be thrown on the American vivisecting table
and pieces taken out of it." He consoles him-
self with the knowledge that only the best is
deemed dangerous, and that no one ever took
liberties with Miss Braddon's texts. "The day
of the Bowdlerizer is a brief one," he says;
"sooner or later the original text is pub-
lished." Meanwhile Mr. Moore prefixes to his
book a vigorous onslaught on Puritanism,
and by his stylistic qualities upholds the
publisher's contention that "the ermine of
English literature" has fallen on his shoulders.
He restates, for the benefit of the American
public, and with diverting vagaries of his own,
the tenets laid down in Gautier's romantic

LITERATURE AND ART

399

novel, — that gospel of the sensualist and the
esthete.

The text of Mr. Moore's erotic sermon is
found in a letter from the secretary of a chari-
table institution whose mind had been dis-
turbed by a reading of the unexpurgated
edition of the "Memoirs." The secretary as-
sumes in his communication the existence of
an "immutable standard of conduct for all
men and women." It is here that, in Mr.
Moore's opinion, the fallacy of the young
man's argument lies. He thereupon proceeds
to interpret in his paradoxical manner the
chapter in Genesis where God is angry with
our parents because they had eaten of the
fruit of good and of evil. He asks :

"Why was God angry? For no other reason ex-
cept that they had set up a moral standard and
could be happy no longer, even in Paradise. Ac-
cording to this chapter the moral standard is the
cause of all our woe. God himself summoned
our first parents before him, and in what plight
did they appear? We know how ridiculous the
diminutive fig leaf makes a statue seem in our
museums ; think of the poor man and woman
attired in fig leaves just plucked from the trees.
I experienced a thrill of satisfaction that I should
have been the first to understand a text that men
have been studying for thousands of years, turn-
ing each word over and over, worrying over it,
all in vain, yet through no fault of the scribe who
certainly underlined his intention. Could he have
done it better than by exhibiting our first parents
covering themselves with fig leaves, and telling
how, after getting a severe talking to from the
Almighty, they escaped from Paradise pursued
by an angel? The story can have no other mean-
ing, and that I am the first to expound it is due
to no superiority of intelligence, but because my
mind is free."

• The moral world, in Moore's opinion, will
only become beautiful when we relinquish our
ridiculous standards of what is right and
wrong, just as the firmament became a thou-
sand times more wonderful and beautiful when
Galileo discovered that the earth moved.
Kant said: "Two things fill the soul with un-
dying and ever-increasing admiration, the
night with its heaven of stars above us and
in our hearts the moral law." Mr. Moore for
"law" substitutes the word "idea." For the
word law seems to imply a standard, and
Kant, he says, knew there is none.

What we now call vice, we are told, was
once respected and honored; and in many
ways the world was more moral before Chris-
tian ideas began to prevail. Mr. Moore there-
upon recounts an imaginary discussion with
an average Christian:

"I am filled with pride when I think of the
noble and exalted world that must have ex-
isted before Christian doctrine caused men to
look upon women with suspicion and bade them

to think of angels instead. Pointing to some
poor drab lurking in a shadowy corner, he asks,
'See! is she not a vile thing?' On this we must
part; he is too old to change, and his mind has
withered in prejudice and conventions; 'a meager
mind,' I mutter to myself, 'one incapable of the
effort necessary to understand me if I were to tell
him, for instance, that the desire is in itself a
morality.' It was, perhaps, the only morality the
Greeks knew, and upon the memory of Greece we
have been living ever since. In becoming het-
airae, Aspasia, Lais, Phryne, and Sappho have
become the distributors of that desire of beauty
necessary in a state which had already begun to
dream of the temples of Minerva and Zeus."

Many books which the majority of the
world regard as licentious possess an almost
religious significance for the author of "The
Lake." Upon "Mademoiselle de Maupin" he
has looked as upon a "sacred book" from the
very beginning of his life. It cleared him of
the "belief that man has a lower nature," and
he learned from it that "the spirit and the
flesh are equal, that earth is as beautiful as
heaven, and that the perfection of form is
virtue." " 'Mademoiselle de Maupin,' " he says,
"was a great purifying influence, a lustral
water dashed by a sacred hand, and the words
are forever ringing in my ear, 'by the exalta-
tion of the spirit and the flesh thou shalt live.' "
The book, it may be added, is interdicted in
England. Mr. Moore ascribes this to the fact
that it seems to be the aim of practical mo-
rality to render illicit love as unattractive as
possible. "The Christian moralist," he says,
"would regard Gautier as the most pernicious
of writers, for his theme is always the praise
of the visible world, of all that we can touch
and see; and in this book art and sex are not
estranged." " He goes on to say :

"I have often wondered if the estrangement of
the twain so noticeable in English literature is
not the origin of this strange beHef that bodily
love is a part of our lower nature. . . . The
poet and the lover are creators, they participate
and carry on the great work begun bilHons of
years ago when the great Breath breathing out
of chaos summoned the stars into being. But
why do I address myself like this to the average
moralist? How little will he understand me!"

All men, Mr. Moore insists, are not the
same. "There are men who would die if forced
to live chaste lives, and there are men who
would choose death rather than live unchaste,
and many a woman if she were forced to live
with one husband would make him very un-
happy, whereas if she lived with two men she
would make them both supremely happy."
The two great enemies of the clerics and the
standard of morality upheld by them are, we
are told, the desire to know and the desire to
live. The latter is infinitely more potent, and

400

CURRENT LITERATURE

therefore the popes were "infallible fools" to
have persecuted men like Bruno and Galileo.
"Boccaccio and the Troubadours should have
been burned instead;" for they too have
taught us that "the world is not all sackcloth
and ashes." Gautier's glorification of the
beauty of earth and the perfection of
form is to Mr. Moore and kindred spir-
its "a complete and perfect expression of doc-
trine." "To some," he exclaims, "it will al-
ways seem absurd to look to Gautier rather
than to a Bedouin for light. Nature produces
certain attitudes of mind, and among these is
an attitude which regards archbishops as
more serious than pretty women. These will
never be among my disciples. So leaving
them in full possession of the sacraments, I
pass on."

Having thus rejected the moral standards
of Christianity, Mr. Moore turns with a
twinkle in his eye to those who would suppress
the erotic element in art:

"What concerns us now to understand is how
the strange idea could have come into men's
minds that literature is a more potent influence
than life itself. The solving of this problem has
beguiled many an hour, but the solution seems
as far away from solution as ever, and I have
never got nearer than the supposition that per-
haps this fear of literature is a survival of the
very legitimate fear that prevailed in the Middle
Ages against writing. In my childhood, I remem-
ber hearing an old woman say that writing was
an invention of the devil, and what an old woman
believed forty years ago in outlying districts was
almost the universal opinion of the Middle Ages.
Denunciations and burnings of books were fre-
quent, and ideas die slowly, finding a slow ex-
tinction many generations after the reason for
their existence has ceased. In the famous trial
of Gille dc Rais we have it on record that the
Breton baron was asked by his ecclesiastical
judges if pagan literature had inspired the
strange crimes of which he was accused, if he
had read of them in — I have forgotten the names
of the Latin authors mentioned — but I remember
Gille de Rais' quite simple answer that his own
heart had inspired the crimes. Whereupon the
judges not unnaturally were shocked, for the con-
clusion was forced upon them that if Gille's con-
fession were true they were not trying a man
who had been perverted by outward influence,
but one who had been born perverted."

The Vigilance Association, a British equiv-
alent for the society presided over by Anthony
Comstock, attacked and harried even unto
death Mr. Vizetelly, the venerable translator
of Emile Zola. Their secretary, Mr. Coote,
was thereupon asked if Shakespeare had not
written many reprehensible passages. Mr.
Coote was obliged to admit that he had,
and when asked why the association he
represented did not proceed against Shake-
speare, he answered, "Because Shakespeare

wrote beautifully" — "a strangely immoral doc-
trine," exclaims Mr. Moore. For if license
of expression is in itself harmful, Shakespeare
should be prosecuted; that he wrote beauti-
fully is no defense whatever. Life comes be-
fore literature, and the Vigilance Society lays
itself open to a charge of neglect of duty by
not proceeding at once against all those who
have indulged in the same license of expres-
sion. Mr. Moore next maps out the course
which the society should consistently follow.

"The members and their secretary have indeed
set themselves a stiff job, but they must not shrink
from it if they would avoid shocking other people's
moral sense by exhibiting themselves in the light
of mere busybodies with a taste for what boys
and old men speak of as 'spicy bits.' Proceedings
will have to be taken against all the literature that
Mr. Coote believes to be harmful (I accept him
as the representative of the ideas of his Asso-
ciation), and the plea must not be raised again
because a reprehensible passage is well written
it should be acquitted. We must consider the
question impartially. It is true that a magistrate
may be found presiding at Bow street who will
refuse to issue a warrant against the publishers,
let us say of Byron, Sterne, the Restoration, and
the Elizabethan dramatist. The Association will
have to risk refusal, but I would not discourage
the Association from the adventure.

"Of one thing only would I warn the society
which I seem*to be taking under my wing, and
that is, even if it should succeed in interdicting
two-thirds of English literature, its task will still
be only half accomplished. The newspaper ques-
tion will still have to be faced. Books are rela-
tively expensive, but the newspaper can be bought
for a halfpenny, and it will be admitted that no
author is as indecent as the common reporter."

But let us suppose the association had suc-
ceeded in reforming not only literature, but so-
ciety as well. What would it have profited
thereby? Here is Mr. Moore's description of
what would happen in such a case :

"The months go by, October, November, De-
cember, January, February, March . . . but one
night the wind changes, and coming out of our
houses in the morning we are taken with a sense
of delight, a soft south wind is blowing and the
lilacs are coming into bloom. My correspondent
says that my book rouses sensuality. _ Perhaps it
does, but not nearly so much as a spring day, and
no one has yet thought of suppressing or curtail-
ing spring days. Yet how infinitely more per-
nicious is their influence than any book ! W^hat
thoughts they put into the hearts of lads and
lasses ! and perforce even the moralist^ has to
accept the irrepressible feeling of union and
growth, and the loosening of the earth about the
hyacinth shoots and the birds going about their
amorous business, and the white clouds floating
up gladly through the blue air. Why, then,
should he look askance at my book, which is no
more than memories of spring days ? If the thing
itself cannot be suppressed, why is it worth while
to interfere with the recollection? What strange
twist in his mind leads him to decry in art what
he accepts in nature?"

LITERATURE AND ART

401

MAURICE BARRES: THE NEW FRENCH IMMORTAL

AURICE BARRES and Anatole
France, it has been said, are "the
first two men of letters in France
with no second approaching them."
The characterization is arresting, and suggests
the advantage, on the part of our American
pubHc, of a fuller acquaintance with the lit-
erary achievement of Barres. For while the
work of Anatole France has found a number
of American interpreters, that of Barres is al-
most unknown among us.

The significance of Maurice Barres lies in
the representative character of his work. He
has become the most eminent exponent of the
so-called regionalist movement in Lorraine,
as Anatole Le Braz (who has been lecturing
in America during the past winter) is in Brit-
tany, Rene Bazin in the Vendee, and Fred-
eric Mistral in Provence. Barres believes that
the unrest of the France of the period is due
to ill-advised efforts to transform the French
temperament and discredit French traditions.
He deprecates everything that savors of for-
eign influence in French politics, music, art,
literature, philosophy or life. His dominant
desires are to arouse his country to a complete
self-consciousness, and to confer on patriot-
ism, which has a tendency to become artificial
and verbose, reality and beauty; and he holds
that to leave each city, each region, mistress
of its political, economic and intellectual or-
ganization is the surest way of bringing these
things about — a point of view which should
possess a timely interest for Americans in
view of the centralization movement in this
country.

It is a far call from Barres, apostle of the
cult of the ego, the "sentimental Anarchist
with a rebel's brain and a voluptuary's
nerves," who proclaimed himself in the
eighties "an enemy of the laws," to Barres,
prophet and high-priest of ancestor-worship —
the cult of "the soil and the dead" (la terre
et les morts), who was received into the
French Academy a few weeks ago. There is
a world of difference between the spirit of his
iconoclastic romance, "Les Deracines" (The
Uprooted Ones), and that of his patriotic
"Amities Franqaises" (French Friendships).
Needless to say, it was the later and construct-
ive note that found expression in his eulogy
of his predecessor, the Cuban poet Heredia, on
the day of his reception into the Academy.
It was "to be the brother after their death of

those who have gone before — le confrere aprbs
leur mort — of the poets, savants, philoso-
phers, statesmen, prelates and nobles who
have wrought the community of France," that
he aspired. And M. Melchior de Vogiie, in
welcoming Barres into the august company of
the "Immortals," chose to emphasize the same
note. He said:

"You do not come to us (like Heredia) from
the Indies of the Occident; you are of the soil,
obstinately of the soil. Your paternal stock was
long rooted in the mountains of Auvergne, rug-
ged conservator and sure rampart of the force of
Gaul. It is not, however, by your paternal ances-
try that you set the most store; of the two
sources of your life, you have preferred the ex-
quisite and sorrowful Lorraine. You trace the
development of your personality to this maternal
soil. You were still a little child when you heard
in the fields the beat of horses' hoofs trampling
the glebe and human hearts. Around you dis-
may, the tears of women, the wrath of men : the
tragic stupor of a catastrophe, of which the child
sees the shadow on the brows of his parents,
without comprehending. Later in life he will
realize the meaning of it all ; the mature man will
see again in his sleepless hours the confused ap-
paritions of his first nightmare; they will shroud
for him, at times, the most beautiful spectacles
in the world; while listening to the music of the
Venetian lagoons and of Sevillian dances, he will
hear, ringing in his ears, the odious sound of the
beat of horses' hoofs which caused his mother
tears."

After a slighting reference to Barres' ear-
lier works as "a savory mixture of ingredients
a la mode (Stendhalism, Renanism, symbol-
ism, a touch of mystification and especially
a great deal of talent, the prodigality of an
original mind trying to find its route)," M. de
Vogue continued:

"Gradually, you attained a form of which the
favor accorded to it by the public would seem to
counsel a general employ: the novel of ideas and
of social research. Insensibly, you passed from
the analysis of your ego to an analysis of your
neighbor, from the curiosity which has no other
object than its own pleasure to that which seeks
knowledge for the sake of serving the general
welfare. You unearthed a phrase of Louis
Veuillot, and this phrase, thanks to your pen, has
had a brilliant career. 'City of the uprooted mul-
titudes' (Ville des multitudes deracinees) , said the
masterful author of 'Les Odeurs de Paris,' in an
apostrophe to the 'mobile mass of human dust'
which is crowded into this great encampment of
nomads. You delved deeper into the problem,
you considered it under its diverse aspects. Your
deracines make us see to what anarchy a society
which breaks all the natural and traditional at-
tachments of its sons is exposed and to what a
dissipation of force it is condemned. You think

402

CURRENT LITERATURE

A GREAT FRENCH NATIONALIST
Maurice Barres, the passionate defender and artistic
exponent of the traditions of Lorraine, has become a
leader in the movement which aims at preserving the
native French spirit against foreign influences.

that the best rooted — individuals or peoples — are
also the strongest. Beautiful and profound truth !

"Your pastimes led you into suggestive land-
scapes where it is a pleasure to follow you.
Venice has always attracted you; Spain called to
you and, finally, Greece. . . . Athens only
half pleases you ; you miss there the Tower of
the Franks. The shadow of a dear absent one
is always thrown upon the celebrated or charming
spots you visit and alienates your soul from them.
You seem to be at Daphne, at Mycaene; you tell
us of them; and suddenly you see them no more,
you have nothing more to say about them. An
association of ideas has carried you away into
your Lorraine. Nothing stirs you deeply which
is not related to her. It would seem as if the
scruple of a faithful lover restrains you from
admiring this exotic beauty which you feel so
well : beauty of cities and of horizons, beauty of
the works of the mind. In your books, in your
opening words to-day, appears the constant ap-
prehension of a peril, of the peril of too intimate
relations with the hostile sirens; hostis, for-
eigner! . . .

"I have reserved for the end a prayer. I address
it to all my auditors. I implore them to read
and reread 'Les Amities Frangaises.' You have
written more vaunted books : permit me to call
this the masterpiece — in my judgment. You bend
over your child; more obsessing than ever, the
sound which dismayed you at his age, the sound
of the beat of horses' hoofs, resounds in your
ears and in your heart. You accustom this child
to learn the lessons of the dead who rule as
sovereigpns all our deeds. 'The dead! They
poison us!' you cried as a young man 'enemy of
the laws.' . . . But now you make amends
nobly in a magnificent phrase : Nos Seigneurs les
Morts (Our Lords and Masters the Dead) !"

THE MOST POTENT FORCE IN THE NEW INTELLECTUAL

LIFE OF ITALY

N THE death of Giosue Carducci
Italy loses not only a great poet, but
|3 also a great prose-writer and critic,
'M a great educator and orator. Long
before he passed away, the Italian people had
come to feel that his modest dwelling in the
ancient city of Bologna sheltered their most
eminent man, and when Swedish envoys ar-
rived at his house last year to bestow upon
him the Nobel prize for literature, they found
him surrounded by the notables of his town, a
prophet not without honor in his own country.
By common consensus of critical opinion
Carducci is one of the great poets of modern
times, and if the majority of his poems have
not penetrated far beyond the Italian borders
it is because of their intense nationalism and
the practical impossibility of conveying their
peculiar metaphors in a foreign tongue. The
Chicago Dial, a literary journal whose char-
acterizations always carry weight, goes so far
as to S2iy th^t, with the single esfception of

Swinburne, Carducci was "the greatest poet
living in the world when the nineteenth cen-
tury gave place to its successor." As in Swin-
burne's case, his poetry was bound up with
his humanitarian ideals. The English and the
Italian poet alike found their inspiration in
the Italian struggle for liberty — that "last
great struggle," as Frederic Myers has said,
"where all chivalrous sympathies could range
themselves undoubtingly on one side."

In his early youth Carducci became a leader
in the republican movement which, under
Mazzini and Garibaldi, was destined to shape
the whole future of Italy. It was while under
the spell of this youthful enthusiasm that he
wrote the famous — or, as some would say, in-
famous— "Hymn to Satan," a poem that car-
ried his name around the world. The daring
title scandalized many people, who found in
the Satan of Carducci's "Hymn" a leader of
atheism and immorality, instead of the Pro-
metheus, the victoripus God of Light, the rC'

LITERATURE AND ART

403

bellious vindicator of Reason, that he ob-
viously intended.

The "Hymn to Satan," published in 1863,
was but the first lyric outburst of a creative
activity that has been incessant. It was fol-
lowed by the "Levia Gravia" of 1867, the
"Decennalia," "Nuove Poesie" and "Giambi
ed Epodi" of the next decade, and the three
volumes of "Odi Barbare," published from
1877 to 1889. Upon his "Barbaric Odes," if
upon any single series of poems, Carducci's
fame is likely to rest. At the time of their pub-
lication they elicited a storm of protests from
the conservative classicists of Italy, horrified
at his substitution of grammatical accent in
blank-verse for that according to quantity.
In the beautiful "Prelude" to these singing
strophes we find the key to Carducci's gospel:
his scorn of modern mawkish sentimentality
and "morbid Byronism," his delight in pal-
pitating nature and the clash of intellectual
combat. To these belligerent qualities the
poet adds an unrivaled gift of expression.
He is an impressionist first of all, and with a
line of delicious cantilene can evoke at will a
broad landscape or a bosky nook. It is his
sensuous style that makes his works the de-
spair of translators, as even Paul Heyse, his
most successful interpreter, confesses.

Carducci's prose works are, in some re-
spects, as remarkable as his poetry. "Since
Dante, Boccaccio, Machiavelli, Guicciardini,
Cellini and Leopardi," says a correspondent
of the London Times, "Italian literature has
never possessed more luminous pages with
phrases at once so sonorous, nervous and
various." The same writer says further:

"His style is sometimes magniloquent, but is
adaptable to all the exigencies of thought with a
new and unexpected plasticity. His discourses
on Dante, Petrarch, Boccaccio, and Muratori are
pages full of eloquence, unsurpassed in historical
criticism. I know of no pages, save perhaps those
of Carlyle, which can worthily equal his discourse
on Dante. From his school at Bologna in the
last twenty years have issued critics and poets
now famous. The best-known poets of modern
Italy have grown up under his influence, from
Gabriele d'Annunzio and Giovanni Pascoli to the
minores of yesterday and the majores of to-mor-
row. Also Italian oratory has in him its ablest
exponent. The oration spoken by him on the
death of Giuseppe Garibaldi is a page so full of
repressed emotion, of musical phrases, and of vast
human sympathy as to obscure, in comparison,
the most brilliant pages of modern as well as
ancient oratory."

But it is as an intellectual force — the most
potent in the life of his people — rather than
as a poet or prose-writer only, that Carducci,
in the last resort, must be judged. He was re-

GIOSUE CARDUCCI

Whose recent funeral in Bologna was attended by
forty thousand people. "With the single exception of
Swinburne," says the Chicago Dial, "Carducci_ was the
greatest poet living in the world when the nineteenth
century gave place to its successor."

sponsive to every changing phase of Italian
development and aspiration. He began his
career as an agitator, and he ended it as a
senator under a constitutional monarchy. His
eulogists will not concede that he abandoned
his youthful ideals. They say that he rather
grew into fuller ideals, and that the spirit
which inspired his ringing battle-cry, "To
Giuseppe Garibaldi !" animates its companion-
piece, that thrilling call to rally around "The
Cross of Savoy." Carducci's conversion from
republicanism to monarchy is said to have
been due to a romantic and Platonic love for
Queen Marguerite, to whom he has dedicated
one of his finest odes. The story runs that
when the royal couple visited Bologna in 1878
the Queen, who was full of enthusiasm for
Carducci's work, expressed a desire to meet
him. He was ushered into the royal pres-
ence, and the meeting, we are told, was not
that of Queen and subject, but of poet and
woman of letters. From that time on Car-
ducci maintained a chivalrous attitude of de-
votion to her family. On her side. Queen
Marguerite showed an intelligent sympathy
rivaling that of Vittoria Colonna for Michael
Angelo. In the hour of the port's need she

404

CURRENT LITERATURE

bought his library on the sole condition that
he should use it until the end of his life.
With a similar proviso she purchased his
house in Bologna. She now proposes to pre-
sent it to the city as a Carducci museum.

Carducci always had a horror of being lion-
ized. His temper was irascible. He was
silent, blunt, rough, at times almost repellent
in his harshness. When at the Garibaldi
memorial ceremonies his entrance was made
the signal for a burst of applause, he savagely
bade the audience be still. "Your cheers," he
exclaimed, "so shock me that I regret my
promise to speak from this stage. Only this
morning I received a third telegram begging
me to compose some verses in commemoration
of Garibaldi's death. I do not believe I have
ever given evidence of possessing so con-
temptible and hard a heart as to warrant any-
one in deeming me capable of stringing
together rimes while so great a sorrow is over-
whelming my country and myself, while ever-
more I behold here, with the fleshly as well as
the spiritual eye, the body of that man whom
of all living beings I have honored most." In
the same spirit this gruff old Coriolanus of
our times refused the orders, decorations,
jubilee celebrations and the like proffered him
by his devoted admirers. The highest honor
any one could show him, he always said, was
in living out whatsoever was immortal in the
principles he had taught, not in exalting what
was personal and ephemeral in their teacher

Something of the fierce idealism of Swin-
burne, something of the lyric beauty of Shel-
ley, were in this poet. But perhaps, as an
Italian writer, Prof. Ernesto Caffi, suggests,
a comparison with Friedrich Nietzsche, rather
than with Swinburne or Shelley, brings out
the truest nature of the man. As Pro-
fessor Caffi sums up the case (in the Revista
d' Italia) :

"Carducci, the not exactly a eulogist of the
Overman, may still be said to stand with one foot
over the Nietzschean frontier. Do not misunder-
stand me! Carducci is no disciple of Nietzsche,
nor is the latter one of his. But the two men are
not far apart, and their common ground is neo-
paganism. In Nietzsche, of course, this implies
negation, the destruction of. existing things; in
Carducci, on the other hand, we have a rebel, it
is true, but a warm-hearted and constructive
rebel ; there is nothing negative or skeptical about
him; bitterly strong as he is in his reproaches,
he is never bitten with the mania of denial. Ac-
cordingly, while Nietzsche chants the praises of
his Superman, Carducci sings of the essence of
all things, the Idea, which conquers savage
realms, which shall emerge alone above the
flood-tide of time, a beacbn light to the incoming
fleets of the ages ; and while Zarathustra's gaze
is riveted upon the face of his ideal, far up on
high, Carducci likewise worships his fetish, which
envelops the cloud-hung peaks of being —
"e sotto il candido raggio devolvere
mira il fuime dell' anima."
[and beneath the white ray turns to con-
template the flowing current of the soul.]
"Two poets, two visionaries, superhumanistic
dreamers, whose dwelling is on the snowcapped
heights of life!"

THE "FROZEN STRIDE" AS A SYMBOL OF BOSTON'S

CULTURE

EORGE GISSING, out of a dismal
experience, once said that to be born
in Boston was to be born in exile,
and Oliver Herford has dared to
speak of its sacred soil as "an abandoned
literary farm;" but of all the hard sayings
flung at our "modern Athens" by writers and
artists, Mr. H. G. Wells, with his smiling
symbol of the "Nike of Samothrace," has
alone seemed able to ruffle ^ e placidity of
the intellectually elect. It was not, of course,
until The Evening Transcript reprinted from
Harper's Weekly a certain chapter on "The
Boston Enchantment" that your true Bos-
tonian became aware of the disturbing fact
that Mr. Wells was talking about him— and
incidentally about "The Future in America;"
and now it is quite generally known that this

very questionable chapter forms a part of his
new book.*

Mr. Wells was in Boston last spring for a
few days only, yet he bore away with him a
remarkably distinct impression of her art,
literature and music, and of that peculiar cul-
ture which he chooses to call "the Boston
enchantment." "I mean," he explains, "not
only Beacon Street and Commonwealth Ave-
nue, but that Boston of the mind and heart
that pervades American refinement and goes
about the world. In Boston one finds the
human mind not base, nor brutal, nor stupid,
nor ignorant, but mysteriously enchanting and
ineffectual, so that having eyes it yet does
not see, having powers it achieves nothing."

•The Future in America: A Search After Realities.
By H. G. Wells. Harper & Brother!.

LITERATURE AND ART

405

And once back at his desk in Spade House
on the Kentish coast, our English visitor
cruelly wrote:

"At the mention of Boston I think of autotypes,
and then of plaster casts. I do not think I shall
ever see an autotype again without thinking of
Boston. I think of autotypes of the supreme mas-
terpieces of sculpture and painting, and particu-
larly of the fluttering garments of the' Nike of
Samothrace. That also I saw in little casts and
big, and photographed from every conceivable
point of view. It is incredible how many people
in Boston have selected her for their esthetic
symbol and expression. Always that lady was in
evidence about me, unobstrusively persistent, un-
til at last her frozen stride pursued me into my
dreams. That frozen stride became the visible
spirit of Boston in my imagination, a sort of
blind, headless and unprogressive fine resolution
that took no heed of any contemporary thing."

Next to the autotypes and plaster casts,
Mr. Wells recalls "as inseparably Bostonian
the dreaming grace of Botticelli's Prima-
vera;" and he concludes that all Bostonians
admire the tubercular art of Botticelli, and
"have a feeling for the roof of the Sistine
Chapel." "To so casual and adventurous a
person as myself," he continues, "Boston pre-
sents a terrible, a terrifying unanimity of
esthetic discriminations. I was nearly brought
back to my childhood's persuasion that, after
all, there is a right and wrong in these
things." And now, whenever Mr. Wells
grinds out Beethoven's Fifth Symphony on
the pianola beside his desk ("Boston clearly
thought the less of Mr. Bernard Shaw when
I told her he had induced me to buy a pianola.
Not that Boston ever did set much store by so
contemporary a person as Mr. Bernard
Shaw"), he will hear its "magnificent aggres-
sive thumpings" transfigured into the perfect
music of the Symphony Orchestra, and he
will "sit again among that audience of pleased
and pleasant ladies in chaste, high-necked, ex-
pensive dresses, and refined, attentive, appre-
ciative, bald or iron-gray men." Irreverently,
Mr. Wells proceeds :

"If there is one note of incongruity in Boston,
it is in the gilt dome of the Massachusetts State-
house at night. They illuminate it with electric
light. That shocked me as an anachronism. It
shocked me — much as it would have shocked me
to see one of the colonial portraits or even one
of the endless autotypes of the Belvedere Apollo
replaced, let us say, by one of Mr. Alvin Coburn's
wonderfully beautiful photographs of modern
New York. That electric glitter breaks the spell ;
it is the admission of the present, of the twentieth
century. . . Save for that one discord there
broods over the real Boston an immense effect of
finality. One feels in Boston, as one feels in no
other part of the States, that the intellectual move-
ment has ceased. Boston is now producing no
literature except a little criticism. The publishers

have long since left her, save for one firm (which
busies itself chiefly with beautiful reprints of the
minor classics). Contemporary Boston art is imi-
tative art, its writers are correct and imitative
writers, the central figure of its literary world is
that charming old lady of eighty-seven, Mrs.
Julia Ward Howe. One meets her and Colonel
Higginson in the midst of an author's society that
is not so much composed of minor stars as a
chorus of indistinguishable culture."

"It is as if the capacity of Boston," con-
tinues Mr. Wells, "was just sufficient, but no
more than sufficient, to comprehend the whole
achievement of the human intellect up, let us
say, to the year 1875 A. D. Then an equilib-
rium was established. At or about that year
Boston filled up." And she cannot unload
again. Longfellow, for instance! She treas-
ures him "in quantity." "She treasures his
work, she treasures associations, she treasures
his Cambridge home. Now, really, to be per-
fectly frank about him, Longfellow is not
good enough for that amount of intellectual
houseroom. He cumbers Boston." . . .

Not for long did the wings of Mr. Wells's
airy criticism hover over Boston in his hasty
"search after realities," but long enough to
stir the chilly atmosphere and provoke con-
siderable journalistic comment,

Mr. E. H. Clement, literary editor of the
venerable Transcript, is quite indignant.
"What troubled Mr. Wells in Boston undoubt-
edly was that he found little or no comfort
for his Fabianistic Socialism," he retorts; and
"it was only ignorance," he continues, "that
made him class Longfellow even in his mind
among the reactionaries or stationaries."

Mr. Nathan Haskell Dole, in a Boston letter
to the New York Evening Post, crushingly
reminds Mr. Wells that there is a contem-
porary Boston writer whose single book has
probably exceeded by ten times the sale of
all his books put together. It is "The Song
of Our Syrian Guest" — a slim, pretty little
booklet containing an interpretation of the
twenty-third psalm by Mr. William Allen
Knight, and very popular with the people
who frequent the theological bookshops on
Beacon Hill.

Only Mr. Philip Hale, of the Boston Her-
ald, is critically delighted. "What especially
struck me under the fifth rib," he confides to
his readers, "was his remark that all really
truly Bostonians had, hanging in their front
parlor, a fine autotype of the Winged Vic-
tory of Samothrace. If Mr. Wells had never
written one of his brilliant books, that single
sentence would have stamped him as a genius,
a monster of acute observation, of malicious
insight. He has summed up in that one

4o6

CURRENT LITERATURE

phrase everything that is timid, futile and
slow — conservative, safe and sane in our good
old Boston." And furthermore he reflects:

"When one comes to think of it, it is not so
difficult to see where this worship of victory be-
gan. Imagine a lot of wholly worthy men and
women who wish to achieve culture. They have
good watertight houses, good cooks, good wine-
cellars. Shall they not also achieve the minor
graces of literature, music, art? They shall, they
do — after a fashion. . . . Shall they not also
'listen to lectures on art?' They shall, they do,
and more, and most of all, they read books about
it. And there they learn about the Winged Victory.
She is the Image of Perfection. Like Pater's Lady
Liza, she has dived in strange seas. Twenty years
ago she used tc be the Sistine Madonna, later the
Venus de Milo, and then, no wonder after so much
adulation, she lost her head and became flighty.
But you may be sure Boston quieted her down."

Mr. Hale is v^^illing to admit that in litera-
ture Boston is producing nothing save a little
criticism, but he speaks up sympathetically
for that group of artists which is really doing
vital work "without the slightest encourage-
ment from the worshipers of success and of
the Winged Victory." Then, too, he cites the
excellent music of two resident composers —
Loefiler and Converse. And after all he adds,
"no doubt, somewhere, someone is writing
some good literature which doesn't appear."

The "frozen stride" is not peculiar to Bos-
ton alone, Mr. Wells is careful to reiterate.
"Frankly," he says, "I grieve over Boston —
Boston throughout the world^-as a great
waste of leisure and energy, as a frittering
away of moral and intellectual possibilities."

A NEW POET-PAINTER OF THE COMMONPLACE

O transfigure the ordinary, to re-
veal the beauty that lies hidden be-
neath our very eyes, if we will
^ but see it — such is the avowed am-
bition of Ernest Lawson, the New York
artist who has won the "Sesnon" medal for

the best landscape at the Pennsylvania Acad-
emy this year. That he has already in large
measure fulfilled this ambition is conceded by
men whose words carry weight in the artistic
world. After looking over a recent exhibition
of his work, the painter, Robert Henri, ex-

ERNEST LAWSON'S PRIZE PA1NT1NG--"T11E R1\ER IX WINTER"
The picture that was awarded the medal for the best landscape at the Pennsylvania Academy.

LITERATURE AND ART

407

claimed: "This man is the biggest we have
had since Winslow Homer." William M.
Chase is another of Lawson's admirers.
Among the critics who have blazed the way
for a recognition of his peculiar talents have
been James Huneker, of the New York Sun,
J. N. Laurvik, of the New York Evening Post,
and Sadakichi Hartman, of The International
Studio.

The story of Ernest Lawson s climb to fame
is not materially different from that of scores
of other artists who have been at first neg-
lected and humiliated, but have finally come
into their own. His art is that of the "im-
pressionist," and he has been handicapped,
perhaps, by his affiliation with the school of
Monet, Manet and Twachtman. A dozen years
ago "impressionism" was a word to conjure
with; but lately it has fallen into disrepute.
At the present time its star seems to be rising
again. As Mr. Laurvik, of The Post, observes :

"Impressionism, that poor, despised term of re-
proach, reviled and misunderstood, bandied about
by the purblindly ignorant as an awful indictment
of some unpardonable offense, en ployed as a
convenient cloak by masquerading incompetents,
foisting their smudgy daubs on a bewildered
public, this much-abused word seems at last in
a fair way to assume its proper significance — to
become synonymous with light, air, and atmos-
phere, with the transmutation of the dead paint
on one's palette into vital, vibrant matter that
gives the illusion of living form, enveloped In
ether and made visible by the glory of real,
shimmering sunlight. And poor fellows who have
borne in silence the scornful indifference of the
public are now having their innings.

"Of them all, none is more deserving of appre-
ciation than Ernest Lawson, who has dwelt in
obscurity too long. 'Tis a pity that a man so
gifted, so imbued with poetry, and exhibiting
such a mastery of his medium, should have to
wait so many weary years — he is past forty —
for the recognition that is truly his. What timor-
ous souls dwell in the mortal frame called Man,
that youth must need spend its best years acquir-
ing the gray hairs of authority before its handi-
work is accepted! So Truth plays juggler in the
tanbark ring and fools are the only wise men, as
many a vexed soul in this town to-day will attest
if perchance one mentions Mr. Moore of a cer-
tain cafe. He bought Lawson's canvases when
they would not bring the price of a meal, hung
them conspicuously on his walls, talked about
them, and bided his time. He must already have
reaped a rich harvest of satisfaction out of his
venture, to say nothing of financial returns."

For some years Mr. Lawson's pictures
have been appreciated by a small circle of
connoisseurs, but as often refused as accepted
by the official art bodies. He lives and works
in the upper part of New York City, around
Highbridge and Spuyten Duyvil, and contends
that no artist could ask for better "material"

"THE BIGGEST MAN WE HAVE HAD SINCE
WINSLOW HOMER"

Such is Robert Henri's characterization of Ernest
Lawson, the New York artist who has won the "Ses-
non" medal at the Pennsylvania Academy this year.

than that aflforded by this region. He is
essentially a painter of the moods of nature,
and has succeeded, to a marked degree, in
combining elements of poetry and strength.
One of Mr. Lawson's theories is that an artist
may find beauty anywhere if his instinct is
true. This idea is strikingly exemplified in
his own work, for he will take the most un-
promising subjects — excavations, for instance,
or the Pennsylvania Tunnel — and invest them
with romance. As the art critic of the Phil-
adelphia Public Ledger puts it:

"Ernest Lawson finds delight in expressing the
stern beauty of rigorous winter, and his sturdy
art aims at the poetic expression of the pictur-
esqueness inherent in our ragged American land-
scape. He has learned, like St. Peter, to call
nothing common or unclean; the unutterable
hideousness of the American factory, or the gaunt
unloyeliness of men excavating in a stone quarry
find in him an interpreter who, by the magic of
his own keener mental vision, casts an aspect of
poetic semblance upon them. Realism in art is
here shown with two-fold mission. On one hand
the artist is found expressing stern facts in the
loveliness which these may on occasion assume,
as in his painting of a spring freshet, curving, at
its own wild will, through a meadow and leaving
broken fences in its way, as well as his painting

4o8

CURRENT LITERATURE

"NEAR HIGH BRIDGE"
(By Ernest Lawson)
An example of the way in which Lawson can transfigure a comparatively commonplace subject,
"bid one stop and take note of the gleam of sunlight in one's backyard."

His pictures

of the early summer time, a delicious landscape,
a dreamy river and two boys stripping off their
clothes that they may plunge into the water. Here
the flesh tones are a bit thin in shadow and pale
in the high lights. The atmospheric values are
more convincing. But both are admirable exposi-
tions of that innate beauty which underlies ex-
periences that may be verified by any who will
trouble to look around them. Again Mr. Lawson
presents scenes whose value is an uncompromising
loyalty to features of American countrysides less
amenable to artistic treatment."

Lawson "saturates his work," says Mr.
Huneker, "with a kind of pantheistic
magic. Wherever he plants his easel there is
a picture before him. By preference he haunts
the Harlem River. . . . His work is at
times a happy improvization, without the shal-
lowness and evasions often characteristic of
the impressionist school." Mr. Huneker writes
further (in the New York Sun) :

"Lawson's paint is now his own. He has felt
the impact of the impressionists; he can handle
all the tricks of that method with ease. But he
sticks to no formula. If he sees a tree as black
as charcoal it comes out black; if he sees men

as red tufts of color in an excavation he notes
the fact. He believes in the Harlem River; Italy
and soft skies do not interest him. His canvases
are tonic; cold breezes sweep across them; the
snow is prismatic; tree trunks gleam in the set-
ting sunshine; across the hill is a patch of blue
sky ; the river is greenish — the whole effect is
magical. Direct, virile vision — Lawson, like
Dougherty, has the 'innocence' of the eyes. He
loves ice-bound rivers, chunks of ice float down
stream. You hear them crackle. It is on the
stringpiece of the pier at Twenty-eighth street
and the North River. Or across marvelously
toned green ice cakes the gulls fly. A ball of
marked red is a dying sun. The scene is poetic,
yet without one false note, without the 'slow
music' of so many sentimental brush dabsters.
His Harlem Flats shock you by their ugliness;
very well, don't look at them; nor at the Pennsyl-
vania Tunnel. These pictures are for people with
nerves and strong stomachs who can see real, not
fictitious, life."

Sadakichi Hartman describes Mr. Lawson
as "an impressionist who can give Twachtman
and Childe Hassam points and a beating at
their own game." He continues the charac-
terization :

LITERATURE AND ART

409

"Ernest Lawson is what I would call, if I were
a French critic, «n homme de facture, i.e., the
man with the hand of the painter, with the mo-
tion of swing and swish and thrust, the man with
the color instinct, the man who can invent
bravura passages as easily as other painters clean
their brushes. . . .

"He is a singularly strong and attractive per-
sonality. He has a fresh and personal sense ot
nature. The trees are his boon companions, and
the secrets of winter snows and young floods his
knowledge. He knows the poetry of lonesome
highways and sleeping suburbs, and is intimate
with winds and vagrom clouds."

In Mr. Laurvik's opinion, the canvases of
Ernest Lawson "open one's eyes to the beauty
of everyday scenes and the innate charm of
familiar places as the work of few American
painters has ever done." He adds:

"How well he has expressed 'the virgin rapture
that is June' in his 'Early Summer,' which is
filled with the all-pervasive exuberance of this
fairy-haunted season of the year I The naked boys
pause a moment with shirt overhead, as what
boy has not, to listen, entranced by the alluring
voices of whispering leaves and the soft gurgle
of the placid brook, before breaking its surface

into jewels of refracted light. The whole scene is
suffused with a golden aureole of light that gives
a note of lyrical joyousness to an almost literal
rendering of nature. This canvas may well stand
beside the best done by the now-famous pioneers
of Impressionism.

"Here are several views of the Harlem River,
which he has discovered to the heedless; of the
North River, ice bound, with seagulls circling
over the murky, snow-laden ice floes. Here, too,
are many places, familiar to New Yorkers and
suburbanites, passed by in the day's journey; in
short, quite ordinary places seen through extra-
ordinary eyes that bid one stop and take note of
the gleam of sunlight in one's back yard."

In brief, says Mr. Laurvik, we feel that "an-
other name has been added to that precious,
short roster of men who look out upon the
world with open eyes, and a mind open to its
beauties, joys, and sorrows, noting all with
the utmost frankness and sincerity, and mak-
ing no compromise with their conscience.
Such a man is Lawson; supremely gifted with
the rare power of investing the commonplace
actualities of life with a hitherto unsuspected
glamor, a poetry and a charm quite personal."

"A BREEZY DAY"
(By Ernest Lawson)
Lawson "saturates his work," says James Huneker, "with a kind of pantheistic magic. His work is at times
a happy improvization, without the shallowness and evasions often characteristic of the impressionist school."

4IO

CURRENT LITERATURE

LOWELL'S GREAT DEFICIENCY

EARS ago Mr. Henry James took
occasion to register his conviction
that James Russell Lowell "had no
speculative side." In a brilliant and
closely reasoned essay on Lovi^ell, appearing in
Scrihner's, from the pen of the eminent critic,
William Crary Brov^mell, this phrase acquires
new significance. Mr. Brownell intimates that
it was the lack of the large philosophic note
in Lowell's temperament that hampered him
most in his literary work. More specifically he
says :

"For the great movements, migrations, vicis-
situdes of the march of mankind — its transfor-
mations, enterprises, and achievements — the
grandiose drama of war and peace, the rise and
fall of tyranny and freedom, faith, and philos-
ophy, the birth, development, and decay of insti-
tutions— social, political, and religious — the spec-
tacle foreshortened in time, in a word, of general
human activity caught and fixed in the multifa-
riously embroidered web of history, he cared
less, to judge from its reflection and echo in his
works, than any other writer of his indisputably
high rank that one could readily name."

It was Lowell's deficiency as a philosopher
that, in Mr. Brownell's opinion, kept him from
becoming an essayist of the first rank. "His
criticism," we are reminded, "clearly grew out
of his reading habit, not out of his reflective
tendencies." The result was that his essays
are full of brilliant writing, but lack or-
ganic composition. "One receives impressions
from them, but not central or complete im-
pressions." Now, the very breath of life in
an essay, according to Mr. Brownell's view,
is a central idea. "If it is an essay," he says,
"on Rousseau or Keats or Dante — a full-
length portrait, a half-length or a head — any
feature or phase of his productions, his place
in literature, his influence on mankind, or
whatever, or all these together — a necessary
preliminary will be the establishment of some
general idea of the subject. The essay will be
the expression in detail of this conception — in
proportion to its complexity the elaborate un-
folding of it." Mr, Brownell continues-:

"To say that Lowell's criticism lacks this initial
central conception would be to say that it is writ-
ten at random. But, indeed, it often has pre-
cisely the appearance of being written at random,
and precisely because his central conception is
vague. Erasmus's witty and apt complaint that
'every definition is a misfortune' related to the
abstractions of doctrine and dogma. In art the
concrete reigns supreme and nothing can be too
definite — even if, or perhaps especially if, it is to
express the abstract. The essay on Dante, Lowell
says, is the result of twenty years of study. One

may easily believe it — taking the statement some-
what loosely, as of course he intended it. It is
packed with interesting and illuminating detail,
and has been called his ablest performance in
criticism. In Dante's case, more than in most
others, to admire is to comprehend. Lowell's ad-
miration is limitless, and one feels that he under-
stood his subject. But his expression of it is
only less inartistic than it is uncritical. His
twenty years of study have resulted in his com-
prehension of his theme, but not in reducing it to
any definite proportions or giving it any sharp-
ness of outline. There is nothing about it he does
not know, and perhaps one may say nothing in it
that he does not appreciate. But he does not
communicate because he does not express his gen-
eral conception of Dante, and he does not because
he has not himself, one feels sure, thought it out
into definition."

Lowell's style is open to much the same
criticism as his essays. It "lacks continuity,"
says Mr. Brownell, "which is to say that it
lacks style. . . . One feels the lack of
continuity of presentation consequent upon the
lack of sustained thought." To quote further :

"His good things are curiously sui generis.
They are not rarely the good things of the poet,
who is touched as well as enlightened by the truths
he discovers or rather feels with personal stress
and states, accordingly, in figurative fashion; for
example, 'Style, the handmaid of talent, the help-
meet of genius.' They are curiously devoid of
epigrammatic quality, as that quality is displayed
in the most eminent examples of epigraip; a
fact which proceeds, I suppose, from his constitu-
tional neglect of the field of 'general ideas.' Of-
ten extremely witty, their wit is not pure wit,
any more than it is pure humor, but a kind of
combination of the two — wit, let us say, with the
inspiration of humor. It is, like his mind, sensible
and sound and unspeculative. It neither flashes
nor glows, but sparkles. It does not illumine a
subject with a chance light, a sudden turn, a wil-
ful refraction, a half truth, but plays about it
sportively — leaving it, besides, pretty much as it
found it."

The very qualities that weakened Lowell's
prose writings, says Mr. Brownell, in conclud-
ing, were the qualities that gave him his great-
est power as a poet. For poetry needs emo-
tion, rather than imagination; felicitous phras-
ing, rather than design; a representative,
rather than an original, inspiration. When it
comes to nature poetry, Lowell's position is
unique. "Lowell's constitutes, on the whole,
the most admirabte contribution to the nature
poetry of English literature," in Mr. Brow-
nell's judgment, "far beyond that of Bry-
ant, Whittier and Longfellow, and only occa-
sionally excelled here and there by the magic
touch of Emerson, who had a 'speculative
side.'"

Religion and Ethics

A THEOLOGICAL THUNDERSTORM IN ENGLAND

HEN one man's utterance sets a
thousand ministers to preaching
sermons and as many editors and
journalists to discussing what he
has said, it behooves us all to learn the na-
ture of this utterance. When the man in
question happens to be the Rev. R. J. Camp-
bell, pastor of the most influential Congre-
gationalist church in England, and the ques-
tions he is discussing affect the fundamental
verities of religion, we are bound to recog-
nize that the issues involved in this utterance
and controversy are of a quite extraordinary
character. And, indeed, almost all the fea-
tures connected with what has aptly been
termed the "theological thunderstorm" pro-
voked by Mr. Campbell's remarks have been
extraordinary. The very intensity of interest
shown by the public is unusual — for England;
and this interest has expressed itself, in sev-
eral instances, in applause and hand-clapping
in the churches. Mr. W. T. Stead, of The
Review of Reviews, compares the present
theological ardor in London to that which
marked the Alexandria of Athanasius, "when
fishmongers at their stalls discussed the doc-
trine of the Trinity;" and a clergyman who
stands close to Mr. Campbell has exclaimed:
"The times are ripe for a new Reformation !"
The strife of tongues has reached even to
Germany, where Professor Harnack, the
eminent theologian, interprets it as a proof
that "the formal theology of the creeds is be-
ing gradually displaced by the vital theology
of experience." In this country, where Mr.
Campbell, by reason of his recent visit, is
well known, the controversy has evoked wide-
spread comment.

Mr. Campbell's views, which are substan-
tially those of the so-called "New Theology,"
are stated with the utmost frankness in an ar-
ticle contributed by him to the London Daily
Mail. They go to the very root of Christian-
ity, and they express, he says, "an attitude
and a spirit, rather than a creed." To quote:

"The starting-point of the new theology is be-
lief in the immanence of God and the essential
oneness of God and man. This is where it differs
from Unitarianism. Unitarianism made a great
gulf and put man on one side and God on the
other. We believe man to be a revelation of God
and the universe one means to the self-manifes-

tation of God. The word 'god' stands for the
infinite reality whence all things proceed. Every
one, even the most uncompromising materialist,
believes in this reality. The new theology, in
common with the whole scientific world, believes
that the finite universe is one aspect or expression
of that reality, but it thinks of it or him as con-
sciousness rather than a blind force, thereby
differing from some scientists. Believing this, we
believe that there is thus no real distinction be-
tween humanity and the Deity. Our being is the
same as God's, although our consciousness of it is
limited. We see the revelation of God in every-
thing afound us."

The next position laid down is this: "The
new theology holds that human nature should
be interpreted in terms of its own highest;
there^pre it reverences Jesus Christ." Jesus
Christ was divine, "but so are we." "Every
man is a potential Christ, or rather a manifes-
tation of the eternal Christ."

The third paragraph of Mr. Campbell's
statement deals with the problem of evil:

"The new theology looks upon evil as a nega-
tive rather than as a positive term. It is the shadow
where light ought to be; it is the perceived pri-
vation of good ; it belongs only to finiteness. Pain
is the effort of the spirit to break through the
limitations which it feels to be evil. The new
theology believes that the only way in which the
true nature of good can be manifested either by
God or by man is by a struggle against the limita-
tion; and therefore it is not appalled by the long
story of cosmic suffering. Everybody knows this
after a fashion. The things we most admire and
reverence in one another arc things involving
struggle and self-sacrifice."

Then follows a declaration that the new the-
ology is in sympathy with the scientific meth-
ods of the day, and with the higher criticism
of the Bible. "While recognizing the value of
the Bible as a unique record of religious ex-
perience, it handles it as freely and as criti-
cally as it would any other book." Moreover,
"it believes that the seat of religious authority
is within (not without) the human soul." We
are bound to believe in the immortality of the
soul, "but only on the ground that every in-
dividual consciousness is a ray of the univer-
sal consciousness and cannot be destroyed."
"We make our destiny in the next world by
our behavior in this, and ultimately every soul
will be perfected." To quote again:

"From all this it will surely be clear that the
new theology brushes aside many of the most
familiar dogmas still taught from the pulpit We

412

CURRENT LITERATURE

believe that the story of the fall in the literal
sense is untrue. It is literature, not dogma, the
romance of an early age used for the ethical in-
struction of man. We believe that the very ini-
perfection of the world to-day is due to God's
will and is a working out of Himself with its pur-
pose, a purpose not wholly hidden from us.

"The doctrine of sin which holds us to be
blameworthy for deeds that we cannot help we
believe to be a false view. Sin is simply selfish-
ness. It is an offense against the God within, a
violation of the law of love. We reject wholly
the common interpretation of atonement, that an-
other is beaten for our fault. We believe not in
a final judgment, but in a judgment that is ever
proceeding. Every sin involves suffering, suffer-
ing which cannot be remitted by any work of
another. When a deed is done its consequences
are eternal."

In view of the fact that a man is often most
clearly revealed in his most extreme utter-
ances, it may be appropriate to quote at this
point two of Mr. Campbell's expressions of
opinion bearing on the moral problem, and on
Socialism. The first, taken from a City Tem-
ple sermon, preached last year and printed in
several of the religious papers, is startling in-
deed:

"Sin itself is a quest for God — a blundering
quest, but a quest for all that. The man who got
dead drunk last night did so because of the im-
pulse within him to break through the barriers of
his limitations, to express himself, and to realize
the more abundant life. His self-indulgence just
came to that ; he wanted, if only for a brief hour,
to live the larger life, to expand the soul, to enter
untrodden regions, and gather to himself new ex-
periences. That drunken debauch was a quest
for life, a quest for God. Men in their sinful
follies to-day, and their blank atheism, and their
foul blasphemies, their trampling upon things that
are beautiful and good, are engaged in this dim,
blundering quest for God, whom to know is life
eternal. The roue you saw in Piccadilly last
night, who went out to corrupt innocence and to
wallow in filthiness of the flesh, was engaged in
his blundering quest for God."

The second extreme expression of opinion
appears in a recent article in The Labour
Leader, the London Socialist paper of which
Keir Hardie was for many years the editor.
Mr. Campbell here makes it clear that Social-
ism is the "practical expression" of his ideal.
He says further:

"Religion is nothing else than man's response
to the call of the universe. It does not need
dogmas; it does not even need churches, except
in the sense that it needs organized expression.
In the primitive sense of the word the Labor
Party is itself a Church, because it is bent upon
the realization of a moral ideal, and has become
the instrument of the cosmic purpose towards that
end. . . .

"The New Theolo^, as the newspapers call
it, is simply Mr. Hardie's social gospel articulated
from a definitely religious standpoint. It is the
oldest of all. It is the gospel of the humanity of
God and the divinity of man."

Such is the set of beliefs that has cleft the
London theological world in twain. In giving
it utterance Mr. Campbell has rallied to his
side passionate defenders. Many of the clergy,
especially the younger clergy, are with him;
his congregation, to which alone he is official-
ly answerable for his views, is said to be
practically a unit in supporting him; the in-
fluential Christian Commonwealth of London
has thrown itself wholeheartedly into his cause;
and a "Society for the Encouragement of
Progressive Religious Thought" has been or-
ganized to champion his creed. On the other
hand, his arguments have aroused among con-
servative religious people a degree of bitter-
ness and hostility that is rare even in theolog-
ical controversy, and that led him recently
to say from his pulpit that he had become "the
most unpopular man in England."

In the present instance even the traditional
reserve of the Anglican Church has been
broken down. At least three bishops have
publicly rebuked Mr. Campbell, and The
Church Times dismisses his views as "Pinch-
beck Pantheism." In his own denomination
he has found little comfort. The Secretary of
the London Congregational Union calls him
"superficial." Dr. Guinness Rogers asks
whether he has forgotten the purpose for
which the City Temple was built. Principal
Forsyth, of Hackney College, refuses to re-
gard Mr. Campbell as in any real sense a rep-
resentative of Congregationalism. Dr. Camp-
bell Morgan cannot see how those who hold
Mr. Campbell's views can remain in the Con-
gregational ministry. "If the Congregational
Union should ever approximate its declara-
tion to the opinions of the New Theology," he
says, "I should leave it."

By far the most scathing criticism has come
from W. Robertson Nicoll, editor of The Brit-
ish Weekly, who devotes three lengthy articles
to "City Temple Theology." Dr. Nicoll lays
stress on the fact that Mr. Campbell took his
position in the ministry without passing
through a theological seminary. "There is no
substitute," says Dr. Nicoll, "for the thoro
practical teaching which ought to be imparted
in youth." He continues :

"Mr. Campbell constantly attempts to grapple
with problems for the solution of which the ut-
most precision of expression is absolutely neces-
sary. Not knowing well the language of these
problems, and having no time to choose it, he
sinks as it seems to us, and especially of late,
into complete intellectual chaos. The preacher is
at sea on all points. He can spin his fabric by
the square mile of whatever texture it may be.
That power is a very striking one, but many of
us may think that the texture is gossamer twaddle

PROPHET OR HERETIC?

The recent utterances of the Rev. R. J. Campbell, pastor of the City Temple, London, have set a thou-
sand ministers to preaching sermons, and as many journalists to discussing what he has said. He has
rallied to his side passionate defenders who hail him as the leader of a new Reformation. He has aroused
a bitterness of theological animosity that led him recently to say from his pulpit that he had become the
"most unpopular man in England.

414

CURRENT LITERATURE

and no more. There is nothing to be surprised at
in the fact that Mr. Campbell's printed sermons
have made no impression on the public. Deprived
of the preacher's winsomeness of address they are
nothing. They are improvisations on themes
which require prolonged and patient study. We
have read several of his recent sermons, and have
been amazed and disconcerted by paragraph after
paragraph of ignorant dogmatism, inconsequent
thinking, and misty generalization."

"Infinitely the gravest and most dangerous
of Mr. Campbell's leanings," Dr. Nicoll goes
on to say, "is his obvious inclination to Pan-
theism . . . his minimizing of sin." As
Dr. Nicoll sees the issue:

"The Scripture teaches us that God cared
so much that He sent His only begotten Son to
die for us, and redeem us from our iniquity. So
much did God care for our sin that the Heart
of hearts was broken for us on Calvary. The
divine suffering met the human suffering in the
struggle to recover a humanity purified of sin and
triumphing over sorrow. Mr. Campbell sweeps
away the doctrine of divine love. His apparently
is the Pantheism which finds in God nothing more
or less than the sum total of cosmical circum-
stances, including human life, and of which man
would form an insignificant fragment. Thus the
shadow of death in its most fearful form over-
whelms every glimpse of hope."

Among Mr. Campbell's champions and al-
lies, the two most powerful thus far have been
Dr. John Clifford, the leading figure in the
English Baptist Church, and Dr. R. F. Horton,
chairman of the London Congregational
Union. Dr. Clifford, v^ho filled the City Tem-
ple pulpit during the most intense period of
the present controversy, has stated on several
occasions that while he does not agree with
some of Mr. Campbell's philosophical and
theological statements, he loves him for his
sincerity and purity, his high and holy aims,
and for the consecration of his great gifts and
wide learning to the service of Jesus Christ.
Dr. Horton expresses himself as follows, in a
letter to the London Daily News:

"One thing is clear to me: Mr. Campbell gets
the ear of that large class of thoughtful and edu-
cated English people who do not go to church or
hear preaching. These unsatisfied souls recognize
in him an original teacher, who is making the
Christian gospel credible to this age. If I were
able to help these men and women — if I could
honestly say that I meet their needs and draw
them_ to my church— I should feel justified in
criticizing my friend. But when I see that he is
doing what I cannot do, reaching those whom I
cannot _ reach, and bringing to Christ hundreds
who will not listen to me, I can only pray God
to bless him, and suspend my judgment in all
humility upon the novel statement of the old
truths until I have had time to examine and
test it."

The editor of The Christian Commonwealth,
who has been devoting columns of his paper

every week to the discussion of the "New
Theology," sums up the controversy in these
words :

"What we are now experiencing is of course
merely one of numerous similar episodes in the
history of the Christian Church and indeed in
that of the quest of truth the world over since
the dawn of independent thought. What the offi-
cial guardians of accepted religious doctrines
never seem to realize is that theology is a pro-
gressive science or revelation, that thought-forms
and modes of expression necessarily change from
age to age, that the heterodoxy of to-day is the
orthodoxy of to-morrow.

"Where, I venture to think, open-minded,
studious preachers with few exceptions, have
erred is in not attempting to prepare their con-
gregations for inevitable changes. Many of them
have gone on developing their own thought,
studying the Higher Criticism, even reading Ger-
man theology, noting the discoveries of natural
science, and talking frankly to one another in the
seclusion of their own studies. But on these
matters they have for the most part maintained
discreet silence in the pulpit. Hence the present
upheaval is distressing to the older folks who have
been in blissful ignorance of the inroads that have
been made upon the traditional view of Chris-
tianity."

In the United States religious sympathy
seems to be about equally divided between Mr.
Campbell and his critics. Conservative jour-
nals, such as the New York Examiner (Bap-
tist) and the Philadelphia Presbyterian, con-
demn Mr. Campbell's views as dangerous and
misleading. The Christian Register (Uni-
tarian) thinks that "he has not yet reached
clarity of thought;" and The Universalist
Leader (Boston) says: "It must be conceded
that Mr. Campbell glides over the greatest and
gravest problems with an airy ease which does
not so much" suggest mastery of them as un-
consciousness of their gravity." On the other
hand, the New York Independent and Out-
look welcome his frank expressions of views;
and The Christian Work and Evangelist (New
York) frankly regrets "the acrimony, the sav-
agery, in which the distinguished editor of
The British Weekly visits his wrath upon one
of the most popular preachers of the day."

The primal and most beneficial "function of
a thunderstorm is to clear the air, and this,
it is generally conceded, the present "theologi-
cal thunderstorm" in England has done most
effectually. As the New York Outlook puts it :

"Whether Mr. Campbell is an assailant or a
defender of faith, he has done good. For the
world should gladly welcome anything, whatever
it may be, that turns laymen aside from a discus-
sion of state politics, commercial speculations, and
social fashions, to a discussion of the spiritual
problems of sin, forgiveness, and practical right-
eousness."

RELIGION AND ETHICS

415

THE ALLEGED "PIOUS FRAUDS" OF THE BIBLE

N THE interest of that "scrupulous
conscientiousness" which ought to
prevail in the field of religion, if
anywhere, the Rev. A. Kamp-
meier, a writer in The Open Court (Chicago),
pleads for a frank recognition and condemna-
tion of what he terms the "pious frauds" prac-
ticed by Biblical writers and commentators.
"We must admit," he thinks, "that the ancient
Jewish mind, deeply religious, lacked an essen-
tial of the true religious spirit. ... It
does not seem to have had the least scruple
about manufacturing fictitious prophecies and
history. And it was equally so with the early
Christian writers. Fiction in the cause of
religion, pretending to be true history and
fact, seemed to them perfectly justifiable." In
illustration of this general tendency, Mr.
Kampmeier cites the common rabbinical cus-
tom of detaching Old Testament sentences
from their context, and giving them prophetic
or other values entirely foreign to their orig-
inal significance. He also finds an exempli-
fication of his theory in each of four well-
known Biblical books. Turning, first of all, to
the second epistle of Peter, he says:

"The second epistle of Peter in the New Tes-
tament pretends not only to have been written by
Peter, the intimate disciple of Jesus, but it even
says, referring to the story of the transfigura-
tion of Jesus on the mount: 'The voice: This is
my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased,
we ourselves heard come out of heaven, when we
were with him in the holy mount.' (Chap. i. 18.)

"It has long been known that this epistle is
entirely spurious. Even in the fourth century
it was believed by some to be spurious, and these
doubts have again and again turned up, till now
no unprejudiced Biblical scholar accepts it as
authentic

"The general belief in its authenticity, and for
which it was taken up into the canon, was very
probably due, besides the mention of the name of
Simon Peter in the address to the readers, to the
before cited words in that epistle, by which the
writer fully asserts himself to have been an eye-
witness of that miraculous event of the trans-
figuration related in the Gospels.

"Sincere believers in Christianity thus argued:
'Would a man have been such a liar as to call
himself an eye-witness of that event if he had not
been, — a man who wrote an epistle of such relig-
ious earnestness and spirituality?' Sincere be-
lievers in the truth of Christianity instinctively
felt that the writer of the epistle, if he had not
been an eye-witness, would have been a liar.
Rather than accept such an immoral act on the
part of the author of the epistle, the writing was
accepted as authentic in spite of its many con-
tradictions.

"It is a well-known fact now that the first cen-
turies were full of such literary productions as-

cribed to immediate disciples of Jesus and others
of his contemporaries, which have deceived people
even to our own time, and the so-called second
epistle of Peter is one of them."

Mr. Kampmeier proceeds to a discussion of
the authenticity of the book of Daniel:

"The book of Daniel in the Old Testament
expressly claims to have been written by a cer-
tain Daniel living in the time of the Babylonian
Exile. It is well known now that this book was
written almost four Imndred years later during
the time of the Maccabees. This was even proved
to be so by the neo-Platonist Porphyry as early
as the third century, for which reason his books
were later burned by order of the Emperor Theo-
dosius, in order that his criticism of the book of
Daniel should not become generally known. Since
the beginning of the last century, however, the
authenticity of the book has been given up more
and more, and no unprejudiced Bible scholars
accept it any longer. And yet that book has mis-
led the most eminent men since it was written,
because it exerted such an enormous influence in
the formation of Christianity by being the first
of the books of the Old Testament to give prom-
inence to the idea of a kingdom coming from
heaven through the appearance of the 'Son of
Man' in the clouds."

Next, the origins of the book of Deuteron-
omy are subjected to relentless analysis. Says
Mr. Kampmeier:

"We all know that Deuteronomy came out
about 650 B. C. in the reigti of the Jewish king
Josiah (that is, the essential part of it), in order
to influence King Josiah to begin that radical re-
form which made the temple in Jerusalem the
only place of worship and abolished all other
places of worship throughout the limits of the
kingdom of Judah and those of the former king-
dom of Israel. That book was given to King
Josiah as a writing which had come down from
Moses himself, who had forbidden any other place
of worship but the one which Jehovah had
chosen, and declared that all the evils had come
upon the Hebrews because they had transgressed
that command — Deuteronomy being filled with
curses predicting in detail what ills would come
as a consequence of disobeying this command of
Jehovah through his servant Moses.

"Until the time of the appearance of Deuteron-
omy even the most pious Hebrews and prophets
had v/orshiped Jehovah without any scruples in
other places outside Jerusalem. They never knew
of any such command given by Moses, as to wor-
ship only in one place and no other. Now with
one stroke a matter was introduced which had
never been known before. A book purporting to
have been written by Moses was suddenly dis-
covered and brought to light. If this wasn't pious
fraud, what was it?"

Even the Gospel of John is charged with
harboring a certain measure of "pious fraud."
Of this book Mr. Kampmeier writes:

"The Fourth Gospel of the New Testament
purports to be a writing of John, a disciple of

4i6

CURRENT LITERATURE

Jesus, and his most intimate one. Altho it does
not say this expressly, it is written in such an
ingenious way that any reader receives the im-
pression that that Gospel has conie from the most
intimate personal connections with Jesus. This
book, on account of its seemingly greater spirit-
uality than the other Gospels and on account of
the very mysterious and mystical air surrounding
it, has played its part so well that it has charmed
all but the most cool and impartial critics. Only
these have seen through its unhistorical garb, and
the so-called Gospel of John is more and more
accepted as a most ingenious fiction on the person
of Jesus, with perhaps very little historical fact
underlying it."

In the light of modern knowledge and stand-
ards, what are we to think of all this? Can
we say that the pretensions of Deuteronomy
and the Book of Daniel, of the Gospel of John
and the Second Epistle of Peter, were only
innocent devices — that unknown writers had
to use some external machinery or frame by
means of which to set forth their ideas? Are
we to believe that the authors of these writ-
ings thought that the garb of their books was
of no importance, but only the religious and
moral ideas expressed in them ? "Surely not,"
answers Mr. Kampmeier. He adds:

"It is not for this reason alone, i. e., to have a
suitable frame in which to set their ideas as
poets and novelists do, that they chose their spe-
cial garb, but they knew very well that just the
pretense of being genuine prophecies relating
events from eye-witnesses would have a most
convincing influence upon the reader; that in
fact this seeming genuineness, so ingeniously
worked out, would be the most important thing
to the reader.

"And if this is so, what else can we call this
proceeding but pious fraud? I at least do not
know of any other term which would describe it
more correctly and strikingly. ...

"To the times of Jesus and the first Christian
centuries such things seemed perfectly natural
and right. The modern mind has evolved to the
point of a greater scrupulousness in regard to
straightforward methods of teaching religious
truth, and this without doubt is due to the in-
fluence of science upon religion, for science seeks
nothing but pure and naked truth and permits
not the least prevarication."

Mr. Kampmeier's article has provoked two
rejoinders, which appear in the March issue of
The Open Court. The first, by C. B. Wilmer,
takes the form of a "protest against the dog-
matism of this way of dismissing the whole
subject of the fulfilment of prophecy" Mr.
Wilmer's point of view is summed up in the
following paragraph:

"There is a way of regarding this subject which
may or may not be the true one, but which
at least ought not to be left out of consideration
entirely. As I read the New Testament, the idea
of fulfilment may be illustrated by the bud's be-
coming the full-blown rose. Certain ideas and
principles are imbedded in the religion and his-

tory of Israel as the bud is inclosed in the green
leaves of the calyx. These principles, expanded
and given their fullest, deepest spiritual applica-
tion, make the Kingdom of God par excellence,
otherwise known as Christianity. Take the one
idea of redemption. As deliverance from trouble,
it manifestly admits of degrees of meaning, ac-
cording to the trouble from which there is deliver-
ance. It means one thing when the children of
Israel are brought out of Egypt ; it means a wider
and greater thing when they are brought back
from exile; it means still another when Jesus
Himself is delivered from sin and death, and when
mankind, through Him, are set free to live the
sinless and eternal life."

The second rejoinder is from Joseph C.
Allen, a clergyman who feels that Mr. Kamp-
meier has "overstated the case." He says:

"The practice of one man's writing a book in
another's name was quite common in Israel, and
probably rose in part from the fact that author-
ship was not so distinct and definable usually as
it generally is with us. A writer would borrow
very freely and extensively from previous writers,
without giving them credit, or making any dis-
tinction between their words and his own. Some-
times he would add something of his own to what
some one else had written previously, and incor-
porate this new portion in his own copy of the
work. The followers of a sage or prophet would
write down his words — sometimes after his death,
and put forth the book in the name of him whose
sayings it records. Sometimes such a work would
contain some passages that were really original
with the man that wrote the book, but which he
deemed true to the thought of the sage or prophet
with whose sayings they were incorporated.

"It was in these circumstances natural that men
should be careless in the matter of ascribing a
book to an author. And as a disciple often in-
corporated his own words with those of his
teacher, so he might at times write in the name
of his teacher, without intending to deceive. This
was no more dishonest than it is for a factory to
run on and turn out goods in its founder's name
after he passed away."

Mr. Allen admits that there were elements
of "pious fraud" in the books of Deuteronomy
and Daniel. But he says of the Second
Epistle of Peter : "The writer felt that he was
writing Peter's thoughts and repeating Peter's
testimony; and so he believed he had a right
to use Peter's name." And of the Fourth
Gospel he writes : "Before we denounce the au-
thor of this Gospel as a trickster, let us ob-
serve how honest he is in admitting facts that
presented difficulties against the faith of the
early Christians, or handles for the attacks of
their foes." Mr. Allen concludes:

"On the whole, I believe that the Hebrew writ-
ers were truthful men. But we should not judge
them by modern standards, when literary author-
ship is a more definite fact, when literary criti-
cism demands greater care to interpret a writer
in his own exact sense, and when science has
caused us to be more precise in our statements
than was considered necessary in the past."

RELIGION AND ETHICS

4t7

HOW TO SUPPLANT THE MILITARY IDEAL

^ NE of the great problems of our
time, as Prof. William James has
said, is to discover a "moral equiv-
alent for war — something heroic
that will speak to men as universally as war
has done, and yet will be as compatible with
their spiritual natures as war has proved
itself to be incompatible." In her latest
book* Miss Jane Addams, of Hull House,
Chicago, applies herself to the solution of
this problem. The "older dovelike ideal of
peace," she observes, has been superseded.
What we need now are "newer ideals, active
and dynamic," affecting the whole realm of
social life. She continues :

"The older ideals have required fostering and
recruiting, and have been held and promulgated
on the basis of a creed. Their propaganda has
been carried forward during the last century in
nearly all civilized countries by a small body of
men who have never ceased to cry out against
war and its iniquities, and who have preached
the doctrines of peace along two great lines. The
first has been the appeal to the higher imagina-
tive pity, as it is found in the modern, moralized
man. This line has been most effectively fol-
lowed by two Russians, Count Tolstoy in his
earlier writings and Verestchagin in his paint-
ings.

With his relentless power of reducing all life,
to personal experience. Count Tolstoy drags us
through the campaign of the common soldier in
its sordidness and meanness and constant sense
of perplexity. We see nothing of the glories we
have associated with warfare, but learn of it as
it appears to the untutored peasant who goes
forth at the mandate of his superior to suffer
hunger, cold, and death for issues which he does
not understand, which, indeed, can have no moral
significance to him. Verestchagin covers his can-
vas with thousands of wretched wounded and
neglected dead, with the waste, cruelty, and
squalor of war, until he forces us to question
whether a moral issue can ever be subserved by
such brutal methods.

"The second line followed by the advocates of
peace in all countries has been the appeal to the
sense of prudence, and this a^in has found its
ablest exponent in a Russian subject, the
economist and banker, Jean de Bloch. He sets
forth the cost of warfare with pitiless accuracy,
and demonstrates that even the present armed
peace is so costly that the burdens of it threaten
social revolution in almost every country in
Europe."

Thus far the appeals for the abolition of
war, whether made in the name of humanity
or of prudence, have failed. But Miss Ad-
dams aims to make them effective by setting
behind them "forces so dynamic and vigor-
ous that the impulses to war seem by com-

•Newer Ideals of Peace. By Jane Addams. The Mac-
millan Company.

parison cumbersome and mechanical." To
follow her argument:

"It is not merely the desire for a conscience at
rest, for a sense of justice no longer outraged,
that would pull us into new paths where there
would be no more war nor preparations for war.
There are still more strenuous forces at work
reaching down to impulses and experiences as
primitive and profound as are those of struggle
itself.

"Moralists agree that it is not so much by the
teaching of moral theorems that virtue is to be
promoted as by the direct expression of social
sentiments and by the cultivation of practical
habits; that in the progress of society sentiments
and opinions have come first, then habits of ac-
tion and lastly moral codes and institutions. Lit-
tle is gained by creating the latter prematurely,
but much may be accomplished to the utiliza-
tion of human interests and affections. The Ad-
vocates of Peace would find the appeal both to
Pity and Prudence totally unnecessary could they
utilize the cosmopolitan interest in human affairs
with the resultant social sympathy that at the
present moment is developing among all the na-
tions of the earth."

Miss Addams goes on to suggest that we
are even now discovering moral substitutes
for the war virtues in our struggle toward a
higher social order. "The newer heroism,"
she says, "manifests itself at the present mo-
ment in a universal determination to abolish
poverty and disease, a manifestation so wide-
spread that it may justly be called interna-
tional." She adds:

"In illustration of this new determination one
immediately thinks of the international effort to
rid the face of the earth of tuberculosis, in
which Germany, Italy, France, England and
Arnerica are engaged with such enthusiasm.
This movement has its international congresses,
its discoverers and veterans, also its decorations
and rewards for bravery. Its discipline is se-
vere; it requires self-control, endurance, self-
sacrifice and constant watchfulness. Its leaders
devote hours to careful teaching and demonstra-
tion, they reclaim acres of bad houses, and make
over the food supply of huge cities. One could
instance the determination to do away with neg-
lected old age, which finds expression in the
Old Age Pension Acts of Germany and Aus-
tralia, in the State Savings Banks of Belgium
and France, in the enormous number of Mutual
Benefit Societies in England and America. In
such undertakings as these, with their spon-
taneous and universal manifestations, are we
beginning to see the first timid forward reach of
one of those instinctive movements which carry
onward the progressive goodness of the race."
^ It^ will be seen that the newer humanita-
rianism offers emotional stimuli, as well as
moral codes; and Miss Addams thinks the
time is coming when each nation, "quite as a
natural process," will substitute virile good-
will for the spirit of warfare. She concludes :

4i8

CURRENT LITERATURE

"We are much too timid and apologetic in
regard to this newer humanitarianism, and do not
yet realize what it may do for us in the way of
courage and endurance. We continue to defend
war on the ground that it stirs the noble blood
and the higher imagination of the nation, and
thus frees it from moral stagnation and the
bonds of commercialism. We do not see that
this" is to borrow oiir virtues from a former age
and to fail to utilize our own. We find our-
selves in this plight because our modern moral-

ity has lacked fiber, because our humanitarian-
ism has been much too soft and literary and has
given itself over to unreal and high-sounding
phrases. It appears that our only hope for a
genuine adjustment of our rnorality and cour-
age to our present social and industrial develop-
ments, lies in a patient effort to work it out by
daily experience. We must be willing to sur-
render ourselves to those ideals of the humble,
which all religious teachers unite in declaring to
be the foundations of a sincere moral life."

THE ONLY SURE BASIS OF RELIGIOUS BELIEF

E HEAR so much, in these latter
days about the growth of skep-
ticism and unbelief that it cannot
but be well, once in a while, to con-
sider the obverse side of the religious prob-
lem, and to ask: Why are there so many be-
lievers? For, after all, when we look about
the world to-day, we find the great majority
of men and women in an attitude of religious
faith, supporting the churches and defending
the creeds. It is likely that most of us have
been confronted, at one time or another, with
the questions: Why does the average mind,
in spite of its doubts and questionings, cling
to a belief in the divine? and: What are the
causes, the true bases, on which the general
belief rests? In all the domain of religious
psychology no questions are more funda-
mental than these, and none have more im-
mediate bearing on the theoretical and prac-
tical problems of religious life.

Prof. James Bissett Pratt, of Williams Col-
lege, whose new and valuable work* on re-
ligious psychology has suggested this train of
thought, divides the religious development of
mankind into three main periods. There is
first of all a stage of "primitive credulity,"
such as that which characterizes children and
child-races. A set of beliefs is handed down
from father to son and accepted without
question. There is secondly a stage of intel-
lectual belief resulting from growing mental-
ity. This stage represents the conscious
effort of man to formulate his beliefs in terms
of reason, and to defend religion from its
enemies. And last of all comes the emotional
belief in religion, which rests neither upon
child-like faith nor upon reason, but upon
intuition and upon matured feeling. It is
this intuitional faith that, in Professor Pratt's
opinion, affords the real basis for religion to-
day; and upon it, he predicts, will rest the
religion of the future.

•The Psychology of Religious Belief. By James
Bissett Pratt, Ph.D., Assistant Professor of Philosophy
in Williams College. The Macmillan Company.

That religious authority no longer com-
mands the allegiance of man in the degree
that it once did is fairly obvious. That the
growth of scientific knowledge and the turn-
ing of the white light of reason on religious
dogma has undermined much of what used to
be regarded as fundamental doctrine will also
be admitted. But the human craving for the
divine which prompted St. Augustine's excla-
mation, "Lord, Thou hast made us for Thy-
self, and our hearts are restless till they rest
in Thee !" is as urgent to-day as it ever was.

With a view to ascertaining the exact state
of religious feeling in a typical Eastern com-
munity. Professor Pratt recently prepared
a circular of printed questions bearing on the
psychology of belief, to which he requested
written answers. Of eighty-three persons
who complied with his request only three con-
fessed themselves unbelievers. The great
majority made it clear that their religion is
based upon need, or upon more or less vague
and intuitive experiences. One man, for in-
stance, wrote that he believed, not because he
had experienced God's presence, "but rather
because I need it, so that it must be true."
Another believed "chiefly because God is the
only hope of the universe. Take away this
belief and our existence is hopeless." A third
said: "I believe in God especially for moral
reasons. Things seem to me senseless and
dead if He does not exist, and if I cannot be-
lieve He helps me on the way." A fourth
made the explicit statement: "Because I want
to believe in Him. ... I pray because I
like to. ... I believe in immortality be-
cause I like to." On this type of mind Pro-
fessor Pratt comments:

"Doubtless a great many people belong to this
class without knowing it. They think it is the
authority of the Bible or some argument on
which their faith is based, whereas it really is
the picture of the fear and despair that would
follow the loss of faith that makes them cling
to It. An analysis of the arg-uments used in
many sermons whose aim is to defend orthodox
doctrmes would point to the same conclusion;

RELIGION AND ETHICS

419

the question discussed seems often to be, not
What is true? but What is pleasant to believe?
The pragmatic appeal is constantly made ; the
old doctrine brings happiness, therefore let us
cling to it. One despondent writes that, after
several years of skepticism and argument, and
of keeping his nerves 'on a constant and useless
strain,' he had to come back 'to the plain, soHd
ideas which were drilled into us in childhood.
Then comes a peace of mind regarding our re-
ligious status. We have seen the practical ap-
plication. We have seen men die as Christians
and others as infidels. We are awakened from
our dreams of youth.' "

Fifty-six of the respondents believed that
they had been in direct communion with God.
One felt the presence of the Divine in "the
deeps of nature and of human nature, . . .
on the sea, on the seashore, or out at night,
under the stars." A second wrote: "On cer-
tain rare days, and under circumstances that
I cannot analyze, but of which essentials are
to be at peace with others and with myself,
and being in the presence of some aspect of
nature, there falls upon me all of a sudden
an extraordinary feeling of sympathy with
nature. I have felt it by looking out of the
window in the evening, by hearing the wind
in the trees, when lying on the grass, by ad-
miring a sunset, contemplating mountain scen-
ery." A third spoke of experiencing physical
well-being as the direct result of the inpour-
ing of the Divine spirit. "When I experience
the presence of God," he said, "I feel, physical-
ly, aggressive but self-poised, exhilarated but
not impulsive, my chest swells, my breathing
is deep and satisfying, and I seem to see the
way to action opened up and the strength to
do it." A fourth said: "God is as real to me
as the sense of happiness or the sense of love.
As I sit by my friend, even abstracting the ex-
pression of his face, I often, by the communion
of his soul and mine, know that he is my
friend. So is God real to me. I feel that I
have experienced His presence just as in
church you sometimes feel the benediction."
A woman made the statement: "God as my
Father is very real. Have I experienced His
presence? Yes, and more than once. The
most vivid and never-to-be-forgotten was the
strength, peace and quietness that came as v^^e
watched the out-going of our first little boy."

Of this kind of testimony Professor Pratt

says:

"It puts one's faith upon a plane superior to
all argument. He who has once known it can
never altogether forget it; he feels that he has
had at least one glimpse into a new dimension
of being. It is not to be described, but only to
be experienced; a language which all the initi-
ate— and only they — may speak or understand.
This, at least, is the almost universal assertion

of those who claim to have known this thing.
With Browning's Abt Vogler they say:
God has a few of us whom He whispers in the ear;
The rest may reason and welcome; 'tis we musicians
know.

One of my respondents writes : T find others
have experience which makes them understand
mine without explanation. A certain instinctive
comprehension exists, tho in matters of taste,
education and temperament we may be quite
far apart. There seems to be a common lan-
guage of the soul learned through a life not
possible to utter in words.' "

All of which leads to the conclusion that
belief in our day must stand or fall with "the
Religion of Feeling." "Personal inner ex-
perience, the unreasoned (tho by no means
unreasonable) religious attitude toward the
universe," observes Professor Pratt, "is the
only source from which religion in these days
of naturalism and agnosticism, of indiffer-
ence and hostility, can draw its life. Here
alone is something independent of literary
criticism, of scientific discovery, of philo-
sophic thought." He adds:

"The time is coming and is, I believe, not far
distant, when this inner experience, this spiritual
insight, will be recognized as the only sure basis
of religious belief.

"What will be the content of such a religion?
Its beliefs, as pointed out above, must be for-
mulated and made articulate by thought. It
must forever express itself in forms and sym-
bols. These forms and symbols will always vary
with different peoples and different times, and
they will arise and succeed one another and
pass away in the future as they have in the past.
The concept of God will continue to vary with
the individual. But beneath all these changing
and contradictory manifestations will flow the
one life of the inner religious experience. This
inner experience, I say, is really one ; all the
mystics speak one language and profess one
faith. For while some commune with Brahman,
some with their own larger and purer selves,
some with the 'Tao,' some with Jesus or with
Mary, some with the stille Wuste or the unges-
chaffener Abgrund or the Oversoul, all testify
to the conviction — or, as they phrase it, to the
immediate experience — ^that their little lives lead
out into a larger Life not altogether identical
with theirs but essentially of the same nature.
Beyond this in their descriptions of it they vary,
many of them insisting that it is for us unknow-
able. But they all agree with Plotinus that,
tho 'God escapes our knowledge, He does not
escape us.' This evidence which all the mystics
bear to a vast reservoir of life beyond us,
which is like ours and with which our life may
make connections, is the one dogma of the Re-
ligion of Feeling. And as the many dogmas of
the Religion of Thought follow the many dog-
mas of the Religion of Primitive Credulity into
the museums and the history books — the ghost
world of departed faiths — this one dogma, if
religion is really to last, will be seen in its true
light as the one doctrine of the real Religion of
Humanity, because it is founded on the very life
of the race."

420

CURRENT LITERATURE

ARE WE THREATENED BY A FEMININE
CHRISTIANITY?

Bj^^-, OT long ago President Benjamin

" Ide Wheeler, of the University of

California, attributed a certain de-

_______ cline in religion in our day to "the

fact that the church has been for ages culti-
vating the female side of religion." With
much the same thought in mind Captain
Mahan recently said to the members of a
graduating class at West Point: "The mas-
culine, military side of religion, as portrayed
in the Bible, is too often overlooked, because
women are more religious than men.' That
the danger-signal raised by these two eminent
publicists can be ignored by church leaders
only at their peril is the deepest conviction of
Dr. Carl Delos Case, a Brooklyn clergyman.
In a new work, entitled "The Masculine in
Religion,"* Dr. Case urges the view that mod-
ern Christianity is seriously menaced by femi-
nine influences, and that the great need of
our times is a counter-balancing masculine
note in religious life and thought.

In marshaling the evidences that go to
show the growing power of "a feminine
Christianity," Dr. Case speaks, first of all, of
the absence of men from the churches. He
writes on this point:

"There are about 20,000,000 Protestant church-
members to-day in the United States. About 13,-
000,000 of these are women. Seventy-five per
cent, of the boys leave Sunday-school during the
adolescent age. Mr. C. C. Michener, in connec-
tion with the Young Men's Christian Association,
reports that, in the country, one in two young men
go to church regularly, one in three occasionally,
and one in fourteen not at all ; in the city, one in
four regularly, one in two occasionally, and one in
seven not at all. This is one of the most encour-
aging reports given to the public. In a recent
year the minutes of a prominent denomination in
Massachusetts gave the totals of male membership
in 198 churches. These churches had 33,885 mem-
bers, or an average of 170 to each church. The
total male membership was 10,543, or an average
of a little over fifty-three to each church. This
makes it plain that of these churches only about
one-third were men. These figures were gathered
largely from the rural districts, where there are
generally more male members in proportion to
3ie entire membership. In regard to the Catholics,
the reports are much the same. The Catholic
Telegraph once said that at the same communion
rail there are everywhere ten young women for
one young man."

The ruling traits of woman, according to

*The Masculine in Religion. By Carl Delos Case,
Ph.D., Pastor of Hanson Place Baptist Church, Brook-
lyn. American Baptist Publication Society, Philadel-
phia.

Dr. Case's analysis, are emotion, suggesti-
bility, altruism, self-sacrifice, and love of the
beautiful, and these traits, he argues, good as
they may be in their proper place, have im-
pressed themselves upon modern Christianity
to an extent that is nothing less than disas-
trous. In regard to the place of emotion in
woman's religion, he says:

"That woman is more emotional is manifest in
the importance attached to emotional elements in
religion. The investigations of writers like Star-
buck have repeatedly shown that men become
Christians oftener for rational, women for emo-
tional, reasons ; and it is on the emotional element
that the strongest emphasis has been placed in the
popular religious appeals. Examine a modem
prayer-meeting, and it will be seen that the test of
the value of the meeting is in the extent and
quality of the feeling produced. The joy, peace,
and happiness are a proof that God is present, as
he is not supposed to be with the cold, hard-
headed business man who is computing his ac-
counts. Not in the action of the will or the intel-
lect is God primarily manifest, but in the emotions.
Revivals have been most successful when most
feeling has been manifest. There is danger of
repudiating emotion in religion ; it has its place.
But it must not usurp the place of the will and
intellect; and that it has is an example of the
over-feminization of the religious life."

Then, again, woman is more suggestible
than man, and this characteristic, says Dr.
Case, has become a standard of religious ex-
perience generally. "Woman is more affected
by external influences than man, gives way
to example and precept, and is more subject
to hallucination and striking experiences.
Women are converted oftener in the revival
meeting; men oftener alone." It has been
charged that worldliness is responsible for
the decay of the old-time revival, but Dr.
Case thinks "it is rather true that man has
asserted his nature, has become less sugges-
tible, and where his conversion was awaited
on the revival type, he has remained outside
of the fold of the church."

Taking up, next, the question of woman's
altruism and self-sacrifice. Dr. Case writes:

"The altruistic sentiment of woman is the ideal
of society, though not always the practice. But
altruism may be too sentimental. The curse of all
charity is indiscriminate giving. It may be love,
but it is not wisdom for the mother to yield her
better judgment to the whims of a son. There is
too much of the sentimental altruism in religious
teaching to-day, and the ruggedness of the law has
been smoothed away to the freedom of license.
There is altruism that is allied to chivalry, and
this is masculine. The word 'chivalry' is ety-

RELIGION AND ETHICS

421

mologically the same as the word cavalry, and in
the Italian and Spanish the same word does serv-
ice for both ideas. Chivalry is martial, and is
the display of soldierly aggressiveness in behalf
of the weak. 'The only chivalry worth having,'
sweetly writes Louisa M. Alcott, 'is the readiness
to pay deference to the old, protect the feeble, and
serve womankind, regardless of age, rank, or
color;' but that altruism which discards punish-
ment, banishes hell, winks at lax habits of mo-
rality, makes church discipline a farce, public
justice a fiasco, and social purity an abnormality,
may not be woman's desire, but it is the result of
a feminine altruism.

"Woman is dependent, and the modern religious
life is far too much a self-abnegation that makes
the Christian lose his independence, cultivate only
meekness, and subdue his natural assertiveness.
Self-sacrifice carried to an extreme has begotten a
race of would-be martyrs, and obedience to Christ
is made synonymous with the loss of manhood.
The passive virtues are exalted beyond proportion.
Woman's natural religiousness is so far conceded
that the religious life is made to include just those
characteristics which she possesses, and man is so
much by nature farther away that the path back to
God is a longer one, and is only to be traversed by
denying what God has made him. It is of the
same piece of argument that the intellect is made
the instrument of confusion and doubt, and the
'heart' (t. e., not the whole of man's self, but his
emotions) the sole faculty of knowing God. The
more intellect, therefore, the farther a man is
from God, and the greater obstacles in the way of
his return. It would be a pity, indeed, for us to
say that since woman has the gift of trusting and
loving and the sense of dependence, she is more
easily g^uided into the true path, for thereby it
would be necessary to say that God created man
naturally incapable of exercising the religious
faculty, if indeed he has one. The Bible does say,
'Except ye become as little children, ye cannot
enter the kingdom of God,' but it does not say
'Except ye become as women, ye cannot enter the
kingdom of God.' "

Finally, Dr. Case charges women with over-
estheticizing the church. Sermons must be
"rhetorical and oratorical" to please them.
They desire not so much logical thought as
"beautiful description especially adapted to
produce emotions."

"Women are more attracted by appearances,
more fastidious, more subservient to social rules,
which rules aim to cultivate good form. The
other parts of the church service, especially the
music, must be in strict accordance with the
artistic sense. Ruggedness, masculinity, is not de-
sirable. No wonder Professor Starbuck found
that girls express a pleasure in religious observ-
ances more frequently than the boys by a ratio
of seventeen to seven, while, on the contrary,
boys express a distinct dislike for them more often
than the girls by a ratio of twenty-one to nine.
Men like a feminine woman as the counterpart of
themselves; but they do not like a feminine
service which is supposed to be an expression
of their own masculine nature. They are not
women, and cannot act like women."

After formulating his indictment, Dr Case

strikes a positive and constructive note. What
we need, he avers, is a revival of "muscular
Christianity," and a new realization of the
truth that it is just as important and natural
for a man to be religious as for a woman.
The demand to-day is for "a masculine re-
ligion and a masculine church service." Fur-
ther:

"The church is or should be the home of love;
but it is something more. It is a factory to turn
out products for a modern civilization; it is a
laboratory in which an expert examination is
made of soul life ; it is an arsenal where are found
all sorts of armor for warfare; it is a foundry
where is forged the armor for defense, it is a fort
from which the soldiers sally forth to victory. Why
should the church life be known only by its mo-
ments of rest? Why should the soft playing of
'Home, Sweet Home' be thoughc more appropriate
for the Christian soldier than 'Rally Round the
Flag'? Let some rugged thought be presented,
some military discipline be used, some martial
music be played. The good lover is the good
hater, and hate means opposition. There are
needed in the church both a Christian thought and
a Christian activity expressive of its virility."

Above all, says Dr. Case, in concluding, we
need a new emphasis on the masculinity of
Christ. Too often He has been represented
as a feminine, spiritual, patient personality;
too seldom as virile, commanding and strong.
To quote again:

"Christ has splendid self-control. See him as
he conquered out there in the wilderness physical
demands for the sake of the interests of the King-
dom; as he restrained his eagerness and worked
on in obscurity for thirty years; as he refused
kingship, when he was de jure king; as he never
spoke unadvisedly, although the human tongue is
a most unruly member; as he spoke his convic-
tions even when threatened by death.

"He had moral courage. He would not com-
promise with Nicodemus, or whitewash the lives
of the Pharisees, or be fearful in driving out the
money-changers by the threat of the lash. He
was unmindful of his reputation, and never accom-
modated his teaching to su't the times or the au-
dience. He was as ready to set his face
steadfastly to go to Jerusalem as if he were going
to an enthronement of earthly glory. He was a
patriot ; but a patriot who loved his country better
than his own life, and was willing to die for his
country even when he himself could not live in
his earthly life to share in the final victory.

"This fine category of manly qualities does not
signify that Christ lacked the gentler graces.
Robert E. Speer quotes from Miss Mulock
in 'John Halifax, Gentleman,' who speaks
of tenderness as 'that rare thing — a quality dif-
ferent from kindliness, affectionateness, or benevo-
lence; a quality which can only exist in its perfec-
tion in strong, deep, undemonstrative natures, and
therefore in its perfection seldomer found in
women than in men.' Speer goes on to show that
Jesus revealed that tenderness in his quick
thought for others, in his love for little children,
in his kindly attitude toward the Samaritans, in

422

CURRENT LITERATURE

his sympathy with widows, in his sympathy with
the lonely, in his care for the poor, in his passion
for healing the sick and the wretched, in his re-
membrance of his mother in his last agony.

"If, therefore, Jesus had the feminine graces, as
he certainly did have, they were united with the
strong, deep qualities of a manly nature. If he
was the 'apotheosis of the feminine ideal,' he was
also the apotheosis of the masculine ideal. He
was a hero, and men admire the hero. No wonder

that Wendell Phillips made this reply to a group
of men in Boston who told him that Jesus was
amiable, but not strong: 'Not strong! Test the
strength of Jesus by the strength of the men
whom he has mastered; titans like Cromwell, for
example, or Augustine, or Martin Luther!' Test
Jesus Christ by the best standards of manhood
practised by the noblest men, and taught by the
wisest leaders of thought, and Jesus will be found
the supremely manly man."

THE? BIBLE'S FASCINATION AS LITERATURE

irininjn.^ UMAN interest, as every journalist
knows, is the first requisite for a
good story or article; and human
interest, according to Senator Albert
J. tieveridge, of Indiana, is the distinguishing
quality of the Bible above all other books.
Mr. Beveridge came to this conclusion some
years ago while out with a camping party in
the woods. The company was in a reading
mood, but no reading matter was to be had
for love or money. Finally one of the party
bethought himself of his Bible, and sug-
gested a reading from that. The proposal
was not enthusiastically received, but the man
with the Bible had his way. After the read-
ing was over, one of the listeners exclaimed:
"I never knew the Bible was so interesting.
Let's have some more of that to-morrow."
And to-morrow they did have some more.
By chance an Indian guide belonging to the
party was near, and he sat sat down and
listened. The next day all the guides were
there. At this point we quote directly from
Senator Beveridge's narrative {Saturday
Evening Post) :

"The comments of the guides were curious,
keen, full of human interest. It was no trouble
for them to understand Isaiah. They had the
same spirit that inspired David when he went up
against Goliath. They knew, with their deep,
elemental natures, the kind of woman Ruth was
and Rebekah was. Moses slaying the Egyptian
and leading the children of Israel out of Egypt,
laying down the law in good, strict, man-fashion,
was entirely intelligible to them. One wonders
what the 'higher critics' and 'scholarly inter-
preters' of the Holy Scriptures would have
thought had they seen these plain men, learned
m the wisdom of the woods, understanding quite
clearly the twelfth chapter of Romans, or the
voluptuous Song of Solomon, or the war song
of Moses, or, most of all, the Sermon on the
Mount.

" 'Why, I never knew those things were in the
Bible. How did you ever get on to them?' said
He one day, when a perfectly charming story
had been read.

"'Why, this way,' said the Other One. 'Many
years ago in a logging camp there happened to

be nothing to read, and I just had to read. I
had read everything — that is to say, I had read
everything but the Bible. And I did not want
to read that. I had heard it read over and over
again in the church and in my own home, and
always with that monotonous non-intelligence,
that utter lack of human understanding that
makes all of the men and women of the Bible,
as ordinarily interpreted to us, putty-like char-
acters without any human attributes.

"But there was nothing else to read. So I
was forced to read the Bible, and I instantly be-
came fascinated with it. I discovered what
every year since then has confirmed — that there
is more 'good reading* in the Bible than in all
the volumes of fiction, poetry and philosophy
put together. So when I get tired of every-
thing else and want something really 'good to
read,' something that is charged full of energy and
human emotion, of cunning thought and every-
thing that arrests the attention and thrills or
soothes or uplifts you, according to your mood,
I find it in the Bible."

This story serves as the point of departure
for a remarkable tribute to the Bible.
'Surely," says Senator Beveridge, "this book
has not held its sway over the human mind
for two thousand years without having en-
gaging qualities — something that appeals to
our human interest. Surely the Old Testa-
ment, which is the story of the most master-
ful and persistent people who ever lived, can-
not help being charged with thought, and
emotion, and love, and hate, and plot and
plan, with frailty and ideals, with cowardice
and courage, with anarchy and law, with way-
wardness and obedience. . . . And sure-
ly, too, the New Testament, which is the ac-
count of the Man who dominates all Chris-
tendom to-day, the Man who is the most
powerful influence in civilization two thou-
sand years after He has passed from earth;
surely such an account could not be without a
fascination, compared with which our most
thrilling novels and most passionate poems
are vapid and tame." To quote further:

"And, when you add to these merely human
elements of the Old and New Testaments the
divine quality glorifying it all, you have by far

RELIGION AND ETHICS

423

the best literature in the world; and not the
best literature only, but by far the most interest-
ing literature. You have not only the develop-
ment of the only divine religion known to man,
but you have easily the best reading to be found
in all the libraries. It is of the Bible from
this last point of view to which this paper is ad-
dressed. I am talking now to those who are
asking each night about their firesides for
'something good to read;' and I am telling them
to read the standard novels and more than the
standard novels — the standard histories and
biographies ; and more than the standard his-
tories and biographies — the standard poets ; and
more than both of these the current magazines
and all of them, for they are the living expres-
sion of the world's thought to-day; but I am
telling them that, more than all of these put to-
gether, they will find 'good reading,' considered
from the viewpoint of 'good reading' and nothing
else, between the covers of that volume which
every home would be ashamed to be without,
but which, curiously enough, is the last thing to
be read."

Senator Beveridge goes on to register his
conviction that "the Bible is by far the most
admirable compendium of the best short
stories to be found in the literature of the
world." By common consensus of critical
opinion the French are the best modern
short-story tellers; "and yet," says Senator
Beveridge, "the French short stories — perfect
as they are when compared with other fiction
— are crude and prolix compared with the
short stories of the Bible." He cites the
story of David and Goliath. "The world has
not yet forgotten this immortal combat," he
remarks; "and for 'good reading' in the realm
of adventure nothing has been produced that
comes anywhere near it." To quote again:

"A good way to test the tremendous pith and
point of the Bible narrative is to read over a
portion of it, get it thoroly in mind; then close
the Bible and try to write out the very things
you have read yourself. You will find that you
will use two or three times as many words, do
the best you can.

"Of course, these stories of adventure are very
numerous in the Bible — the volume is packed
full of them.

"But suppose you want some other kind of
story — intrigue, let us say, or diplomacy. You
will find it in this same history of this same
David. His craft in statesmanship equaled his
courage in war. It is fascinating to see how he
laid the foundation of that dynasty from which
sprang our Savior. Of course, I am not going
to attempt to repeat it here — that would be
merely to repeat what you will find in infinitely
more fascinating form in the Bible itself. All
that I am doing is to tell you that if you want
'human interest' stories that yet involve states-
manship, diplomacy and war you will find them
all crowded into the life of David. And through
them all you will find fundamental, almost pri-
mal, human passions running at high tide.

"For example, David loved women — man-
fashion and violently he loved them — and that

led him, man of God tho he was, into wrong-
doing. And the hatred of the people of that
time was equal to their love, and their grief was
something terrible. When the men of that time
and race hated, that meant a killing. We see
it in the same race as late as the time of the
play of 'The Merchant of Venice,' where that
wonderful old character, Shylock, exclaims, Who
hates the man he would not kill !

"While David is the master character through-
out all this period, and, indeed, one of the mas-
ter characters of all time and of all peoples,
that period was full of characters. The fact is
that the Bible is made up of big characters, men
and women and children loving, plotting, war-
ring, hating, intriguing, philosophizing, praying,
forgiving, doing justice and working right-
eousness, yet falling to the lowest depths. But
always there is 'something doing.' "

The Senator from Indiana sometimes
wishes that he had been born a painter, in-
stead of a statesman, and he says that if he
had he would have painted at least two pic-
tures if he had never painted any others. The
first would have been a picture of Isaac, "the
first gentleman in literature," as he took his
bride, Rebekah, by the hand, and "brought
her to his mother's, Sarah's, tent." The other
would have been a picture of Joseph, "the
dreamer," as he drew near to his brethren at
Dothan, "lithe and strong and fine, wander-
ing slowly, his great dark eyes filled with
visions of another time and of another land,
of great enterprises and splendid duties and
mighty deeds — dreaming, always dreaming,
and with the dreamer's halo about him." To
quote, in conclusion:

"These tales are, of course, familiar to every-
one. The pastels of The Dreamer and The
First Gentleman in Literature are as well known
as they are unappreciated. But their perfection
as works of art and their absorbing quality as
narratives have been forgotten just because they
are old.

"I think that we Americans are falling into
the same trouble that the men of Athens had
fallen into at the time of Paul's immortal ora-
tion on Mars Hill. The men of Athens were
continually looking for 'something new' — as we
are told, 'the Athenians and the strangers there
spent their time in nothing but telling or hearing
some new thing. ...

"But the Bible is full of the most extraordi-
nary experiences that few people know anything
about. They are tucked away here and there
throughout this astonishing volume. As I have
said before, they are of every kind, too. In-
cidents of love of the most passionate and yet
the tenderest and the most self-sacrificing kind ;
incidents of anger that set our blood on fire
even in the reading of them; incidents of the
blacker passions rioting unrestrained, wanton
and desperate ; incidents of craft and cunning
more subtle than those told by Conan Doyle in
his Sherlock Holmes, or by that master of all
modern writers of plot and intrigue, Edgar
Allan Poe."

4^4

CURRENT LITERATURE

NEW LITERARY PORTRAYALS OF JESUS

^^SKIIIMERICA has recently witnessed an
r^ unusual number of Biblical plays.
rji None, however, has actually pre-
sented the figure of Jesus. In Ger-

many there have been published within recent
months a remarkable series of imaginative
works, poetic, dramatic and fictional, dealing
with Jesus as the central figure. The Christ-
liche Welt, of Marburg, gives a survey of
this literature, from the pen of Fritz Philippi.

Nobody, he says, believes that the ideal
drama of the life of Jesus has yet been writ-
ten, and it would require a prophet or a
prophet's son to predict the hour when a mas-
ter's hand will accomplish this great task.
The large number of efforts that are being
made in this direction only emphasizes the
fascination which the subject possesses for
literary men. It is remarkable, moreover,
what phenomenal differences appear in the
conception of the subject as treated by the
writers who have ventured upon this danger-
ous ground.

Of new German portrayals of Christ the
most noteworthy is probably that of a Roman
Catholic writer, Arno von Walden, whose
"Christus" has created a sensation in religious
circles. Von Walden gives an independent
Catholic picture of Jesus, not a mere sub-
ordinate to the Virgin Mary. In beautiful
verse and with a mystical spirit he glorifies
Jesus as the King of Heaven, and this glori-
fication of Jesus' royalty is carried so far
that His redemptive work is almost obscured.
One of the most striking parts of the work
is entitled "Christus am Lethe." Here Jesus
is depicted, in His disappointment, as wanting
to turn His back on mankind and to return to
the region of the dead, but as being recalled
to His work of mercy for the welfare of sin-
ners by the piteous appeals of the shadows of
the dead.

An altogether different conception underlies
the poetic drama of Hermann Baars, entitled
"Jesus." If it be the aim of drama to depict
the development of a personality under the
influence of a struggle, then this "Jesus" is
scarcely a drama. The central thought is rather
the gradual development in Jesus' mind of the
Messianic idea, to which He clings even in the
face of the strongest temptation. This tempta-
tion is personified in Judas, who tries to hold
Jesus to an ambition of merely earthly rule.
The play is largely the story of the struggle
between the antagonistic principles repre-

sented by these two, and might be called
"Jesus and Judas." Indeed, Judas rather
gains, and Jesus loses, in the development of
the plot, and as the acme of the drama, Jesus
is persuaded by Judas publicly to declare Him-
self the Chosen One, and thus excites the rage
of the mob that ends His life. Baars' Jesus
could hardly be described as the Jesus of the
gospels, nor is his drama the realization of
Christian ideals.

Entirely different again is the "Jesus" of
Feddersen, which presents the Savior in an
entirely modern way, acting and speaking for
Himself. He is even pictured as joking with
children, and in Gethsemane He begins with
the words, "Now I will experience the higher
meaning of the Lord's Supper." To the rich
young man He says: "God or Mammon!
Away with Mammon I Give me your soul!"

A fourth conception of Jesus is embodied
in Max Semper's play entitled "Der Ewige"
(The Eternal). It is an attempted solution
of the problem from the standpoint of the
philosophy of religion. All the actors who
appear are representatives and types of dif-
ferent schools of religious thought, and in
solemn dignity they advocate the teachings of
these schools — the priest, the savant, the as-
cetic, and the Master Himself. The under-
lying purpose is to determine which is the
best religion, and the success of each school
is measured by the power of its representa-
tive to sway and control the people. The
priest advocates his cultus, the learned Phar-
isee comes with the law, the Greek savant
with his Platonic philosophy. The discussion
is brought to an issue in a dialectic form, and
a common conclusion is attained by Jesus in
offering to redeem the people by a "sacrifice."

A fifth work by Hermann Kroepelin is
called "Jesus: An Epos." The title claims
too much, as it is not an "epic," but rather a
dramatic poem. The interesting point in
Kroepelin's book is its distinct and charac-
teristic individualization of Jesus, who is rep-
resented as being first inspired to His mission
by John the Baptist, and then as being over-
whelmed by the dire distress of the people
and outraged by the wickedness of the rulers.
Disappointed in His expectations of a Mes-
siah as helper, He finally concludes to under-
take the work of deliverance Himself, and
thus brings about His own death. In spirit
and in tone this is one of the best in this
group of works.

RELIGION AND ETHICS

42s

Finally, the "Christus" of Paul Friederich
is an attempt at an epic description of Jesus.
We have here real poetic thought, clad not
in heavy theological armor, but in beautiful
language, and carried through five cantos. It
is a visionary elaboration of the story of the

Temptation. Satan tries to make Jesus dis-
gusted with His mission, by telling Him what
the Messiah must suffer at the hands of man-
kind. The whole work is distinguished by
strong imaginative power and vivid portrai-
ture.

A PROPOSED UNION OF CHRISTENDOM UNDER

PAPAL AUSPICES

HE Rev. Dr. Charles Augustus
S^iggs, whose withdrawal from the
Presbyterian Church attracted so
much attention ten years ago, has
shown an increasing sympathy with Roman
Catholicism. During the summer of 1905 he
visited the Vatican and had an extended con-
ference with the Pope. About the same time he
published a friendly article on "Reforms in
the Roman Catholic Church." And now he
writes, in The North American Review, pro-
posing nothing less than a reunion of all the
Christian churches under a reformed Papal
administration.

Present tendencies in the religious world,
he argues, point toward the realization of
this ideal. "Catholics and Protestants all
over the world," he says, "are looking with
hope and eagerness for great and widespread
reforms, such as may remove the evils that
brought about the division of the Church and
destroy the barriers which perpetuate the sep-
aration; and, in a spirit of love and concord
rally the entire Christian world about Christ
our Lord and a successor of St. Peter, who
will be as near to Christ as St. Peter was,
and as truly a representative of the Lord and
Master as Shepherd of the flock of Christ,
the executive head of a reunited Christian-
ity."

The Papacy, he says further, "is one of the
greatest institutions that has every existed in
the world; it is much the greatest now exist-
ing, and it looks forward with calm assur-
ance to a still greater future." Moreover;

"Its dominion extends throughout the world
over the only ecumenical church. All other
churches are national or provincial in their or-
ganization. It reaches back in unbroken succes-
sion through more than eighteen centuries to St.
Peter, appointed by the Saviour of the world to
be the Primate of the Apostles. It commands
the great central body of Christianity, which has
ever remained the same organism since Apos-
tolic times. All other Christian organizations,
however separate they may be from the parent

stock, have their share in the Papacy as a part
of the Christian heritage and are regarded by
the Papacy as subject to its jurisdiction. The
authority of the Papacy is recognized as su-
preme in all ecclesiastical affairs, by the most
compact and best-organized body of mankind,
and as infallible in determination of doctrinei
of faith and morals when it speaks ex cathedra."

The historical development of the Papacy,
we are reminded, constitutes "one of the most
stupendous series of events in history." Un-
til the time of the Reformation it may be
said to have represented the cause of the
Christian people against emperors, kings and
princelets. Toward the close of the Middle
Ages it allowed itself to be entangled in civil
affairs, and so stretched its prerogatives as to
become a peril to the states of Europe. Then
came Protestanism. "The Protestant Refor-
mation," says Dr. Briggs, "was essentially a
protest, and so it might always have re-
mained, a protest against Papal usurpations,
with a willingness to recognize all valid, his-
torical and Biblical rights of the Pope." But
the logic of events compelled the Protestants
to go further and organize national churches.
"So far as there was a historical necessity
for this course," comments Dr. Briggs, "it
was valid. But when, later, Protestants went
so far as to deny all the historic rights of the
Papacy, Protestanism put itself into a false
position which must ultimately be aban-
doned." In the meantime the Papacy was
obliged to reform itself, and "there has been
a slow, cautious, but steady advance in re-
form ever since." How far these reforms
have made Christian reunion possible, Dr.
Briggs goes on to discuss:

"The unity of the Church is in Christ, the
head of the entire body of Christians. Such a
Christianity embraces the world of the living
and the dead, those in various stages of prepara-
tion, as well as those already Christian. Chris-
tianity in the world is organized in one Church,
under the Apostolic ministry, culminating in the
Universal Bishop, the successor of St. Peter.
The three constituents necessary to complete

426

CURRENT LITERATURE

unity are the Pope, the ministry and the people,
a threefold cord which should not be broken.
The unity of the Church is not in the person of
the Pope, but in his office, as the Universal
Biihop, and as such the head of all the bishops,
as these are of the ministers and people. In
Christian history, the unity of the ministry has
been expressed in Ecumenical Councils, that of
the people in their lawful civil governments.
Any failure to recognize and give due weight to
each and all of these constituents of unity im-
pairs the unity of the Church, but does not
destroy it, so long as even one of the lines re-
mains unbroken."

Dr. Briggs proceeds to specify the reforms
which he thinks are needed in Papal ad-
ministration. He proposes that "the juris-
diction of the Pope should be defined and
limited by a constitution as the executive of-
fice has been in all governments." The Pope,
as he points out, is at present more absolute
in his govenment than the Czar of Russia or
the Sultan of Turkey. Constitutional defin-
itions and restriction are needed not only to
"restrain the Popes and their councilors, the
Cardinals, within their legitimate limits of
jurisdiction," but also to "defend the rights of
the Papacy from the intrusion of civil gov-
ernments." The exact nature of these consti-
tutional provisions is made clear in a con-
cluding paragraph:

"There are no serious barriers in the way of
such a transformation of the Papacy as may re-
move the chief objections of those Churches
which do not at present recognize its supreme
jurisdiction. The great principle of unity of
Greek and Oriental Churches may become oper-
ative in Ecumenical Councils truly representing
the entire Christian world. Such Councils may
by their decisions so supplement, enlarge and im-
prove the past decisions of the Roman Catholic
Church and Popes that the objections to them
may be removed and the entire world may ac-
cept the results. The infallible and irreformable
determinations of Councils and Popes are few,
and these may be so explained, limited or en-
larged, and the essential so discriminated from
the unessential, that even these discriminations
may no longer be stumbling-blocks to the world.
The great principle of Protestant Christianity,
the consent of the Christian people, may become
operative in the introduction of representatives
of the people into the presbyterial and synodical
system of the Church. The bureaucracy of the
Cardinalate and the Congregations at Rome may
be reduced to the efficient system in use in all
modem representative gO(vernments. The ab-
solutism of the Pope may be destroyed by a
constitution defining carefully the limitation and
extent of his powers. The government of the
Pope may be fortified and at the same time lim-
ited by a Council meeting every three or five
years, representing the entire Christian world.
The legislative function of the Papacy may be
eliminated from the executive, as in the best
modern states. The judicial function of the
Papacy may be separated by the organism of a

supreme court of Christendom. There is noth-
ing in any infallible decision of Councils and
Popes that in any way prevents some such
transformation of the Papacy as is here con-
ceived of. This ideal may be in its detail an
illusion — doubtless most will think it such — but
whether the outlines of this ideal and its de-
tails be mistaken in whole or in part, it is cer-
tain, as Jesus Christ our Savior reigns over His
Church and the world, that some day, in some
way, the Papacy will be reformed so as to cor-
respond with His ideal, and will be so trans-
formed as to make it the executive head of a
universal Church."

Dr. Briggs's article has aroused considerable
interest in the religious world, and has led to
some discussion. "Coming as it does," says
the New York Freeman's Journal (Rom.
Cath.), "from a Protestant minister conspicu-
ous for his scholarship and ability, it is ex-
traordinary." The same paper says further:

"His admission of the divine authority of the
Papacy must be only speculative or academic, for
if he really admitted the authority of the Pope to
be divine, all discussion, so far as he is personally
concerned, is at an end. Obedience to that au-
thority becomes an imperative obligation that can-
not be shirked, or left, as an ideal in the air, or
as the duty of some one elsg."^

The Freeman's Journal takes issue with a
statement by Dr. Briggs that the Papacy is en-
dangered when it concerns itself with questions
of politics, sociology and philosophy. In con-
crete society, we are reminded, "politics and
morals are inextricably associated, and neither
can be dealt with without reference to the
other." The Freeman's Journal concludes :

"There are many other points of great interest
in this remarkable essay of Dr. Briggs that de-
serve profound reflection. Though we cannot
agree with him in much that he says, we cannot
but admire him for the noble objective he has
in view, namely. Christian unity."

Several of the newspapers offer suggestive
comment on Dr. Brigg's article. The New
York Evening Post finds it "characteristic of
the hour and the man that theological differ-
ences of opinion are practically ignored as a
barrier to the coming together of Protestant,
Roman and Greek Christians;" and the New
York Times says:

"To the lay mind it may indeed seem that,
while there may be nothing in any of the ac-
knowledged infallible decisions to prevent this
transformation, there is in the human nature of
Cardinals and of Popes a sort of obstacle which
it will take nothing less than a miracle to over-
come. For it is to be remarked that the trans-
formation outlined by Dr. Briggs hardly leaves
much to the Papacy of the substance of power
that has been attractive in the past. But it is
upon what the lay mind would regard as a
miracle that Dr. Briggs necessarily relies."

Music and the Drama

THE LION AND THE MOUSE.— BY CHARLES KLEIN

HARLES KLEIN'S play, "The
Lion and the Mouse," from which,
by special arrangement with H. B.
Harris, we reprint three crucial
scenes, is said to have achieved so far the
most successful record ever made by a play
written in America. Its two years' run in
New York City stands unparalleled in the his-
tory of the American theater, and four com-
panies have at the same time this season been
presenting the play to the country at large. It
has been ably novelized by Arthur Hornblow,
and in book form, too, sells by the tens of thou-
sands. This phenomenal success is due in part,
at least, to the fact that in the character of
John Burkett Ryder Mr. Klein has daringly
and brilliantly dramatized, in thinly veiled
form, the person of John D. Rockefeller. Our
Old World dramatists have put kings and em-
perors upon the stage. Mr. Klein substitutes
for these a monarch of finance.

The first act introduces us to Judge Ross-
more and his family in dire straits. The
worthy Judge had crossed the path of the
"system" and more than once, by his impec-
cable integrity, thwarted the plans oi John
Burkett Ryder and his associates. At last,
however, the revenge of the moneyed powers
has overtaken him. With devilish ingenuity
they have inveigled him into financial trans-
actions of which he understood little, and,
without his knowledge, have made over to
him more stock than he was entitled to, so
as to expose him to the suspicion of having
accepted a bribe. Then, in the critical mo-
ment, certain letters, especially one which he
had written to Ryder and from which his
innocence would have been clearly estab-
lished, are withheld from his friend and legal
adviser, ex-Judge Stott. His fortune is shat-
tered, he faces impeachment, and, the Senate
committee being but a tool in Ryder's hands,
almost certain conviction. When his daugh-
ter Shirley returns from a pleasure trip to
Europe, in the course of which she had acci-
dentally met and learned to love Ryder's son,
Jefferson, she finds her family's social status
totally changed and disgrace hanging like a
sword over her father's head. Shirley is
not only a brave but a clever woman. She
had, under the name of Sarah Green, pub-

lished a book of stories, and but recently
completed a novel, "The Octopus," for which
the fascinating if unsympathetic figure of
Ryder had been the model. Jefferson, the
son, has not read the novel and knows noth-
ing of Shirley's literary work. When he
hears that her father is in difficulties he at
once asks her for her hand. She had given
him some encouragement, but rejects his
offer under the circumstances. The an-
nouncement of Jefferson's engagement to
Kate Roberts, daughter of Senator Roberts,
which had been published simultaneously
with young Ryder's return — without his
knowledge and against his will, but in accord-
ance with his father's commands, — and the
unenviable part which the older Ryder had
borne in bringing about Judge Rossmore's
downfall, supply her with a plausible excuse.
She will have justice for her father, and be-
fore that end has been attained she will hear
nothing of love. Throughout this act as well
as throughout the play Shirley reveals a
strong, self-reliant soul.

The second act takes us to Ryder's private
office. It appears that Kate Roberts, Jeffer-
son's prospective fiancee, has been carrying
on an intrigue with the Honorable Fitzroy
Bagley, a penniless but blue-blooded English-
man, formerly third chamberlain to the Queen
of England's second son, now in Ryder's serv-
ice. In fact she cares no more for Jeffer-
son than the latter cares for her. The scene
that follows reveals Ryder's calm mastery
over both his household and the United States
Senate. In the latter Senator Roberts is his
chief tool. Generals, governors, politicians,
plead vainly for a word with the great poten-
tate of finance. Mrs. Ryder is absolutely dom-
inated by him. Jefferson, however, in a spirited
scene, forces an interview, in the course of
which he annuls the marital arrangement
made by Ryder and declares his love for
Judge Rossmore's daughter. Vainly old
Ryder jeers and rages. Jefferson avows that
he will leave the house and build a life for
himself far from his father's millions. He
goes out, and Miss Sarah Green is an-
nounced. Her book, "The Octopus," had
meanwhile appeared, and by some intimate
touches had roused the interest of John Ryder,

42g

CURRENT LITERATURE

who could not but see his own image mir-
rored in its pages. Of course he never
dreams of the author's identity with Shirley,
the daughter of Judge Rossmore. He had
sought an interview with the author, and she
had refused to see him in his house except
upon an invitation from Mrs. Ryder. When
Shirley is ushered in as Sarah Green she
naturally remarks that she had expected to
see Mrs. Ryder. A dramatic interview fol-
lows:

Shirley: I rather expected to see Mrs. Ryder.

Ryder: Yes, she wrote, but I — I— wanted to
see you — (picks up a book) about this — -

Shirley: Oh, have you read it?

Ryder: I have — I am sure your time is valua-
ble, so I'll come straight to the point. I want to
ask you where you got the character of the cen-
tral figure, the Octopus, as you call him, John
Broderick?

Shirley : From imagination, of course.

Ryder : You've sketched a pretty big man here.
(Opens book at marked places.)

Shirley: He has big possibilities, but I think
he makes very small use of them.

Ryder: On page 22 you call him the greatest
exemplar of individual human will in existence
to-day. And you mark indomitable will and
energy as the keystone of his marvelous success.

Shirley : Yes.

Ryder : On page 26 you say that "The machin-
ery of his money-making mind typifies the laws
of perpetual unrest. It must go on — go on — ^re-
lentiessly, resistlessly, making money, making
money and continuing to make money. It cannot
stop imtil the machinery crumbles." Do you
mean to say I couldn't stop to-morrow, if I
wanted to?

Shirley: You?

Ryder: Well, it's a natural question. Every
man sees himself in the hero of a novel, as every
woman does in the heroine. We're all heroes and
heroines in our own eyes, I'm afraid. (He shuts
the book.) But what's your private opinion of
this man from whom you drew the character?
What do you think of him as a type ? How would
you classify him?

Shirley: As the greatest criminal the world
has ever produced.

Ryder: Criminal? (Astonished.)

Shirley: He is avarice, egotism and ambition
incarnate ; he loves money because he loves power,
and he loves power more than mankind or
womankind.

Ryder: Um — rather strong.

Shirley: Of course, no such man ever really
existed?

Ryder: Of course not. (He is thoughtful.)

Shirley : But you didn't ask me to call merely
to find out what I thought of my work. That
sounds like an interview in a Sunday paper.

Ryder (laughs) : No, I want you to undertake a
little work for me. (Opens box.) I want you to put
my autobiography together from this material.
(He takes out several voluminous foolscap docu-
ments, letters, etc., which he places on the table.)
I want to know where you got the details of this
man's life? (He sits down and takes up the
hook.)

Shirley: For the most part from imagination

— newspapers — magazines. You know the Ameri-
can millionaire is a very overworked topic, and
naturally I've read

Ryder : Well, I refer to what you haven't read,
what you couldn't have read. This is what I
mean: "As evidence of his petty vanity, when a
youth, he had a beautiful Indian girl tatooed just
above his forearm." Now who told you that I
had my arm tatooed when I was a boy?

Shirley: Have you? Why, what a coinci-
dence

Ryder (with sarcasm) : Yes? Well let me
read you another coincidence, (Reads from
book) : "The same eternal long black cigar al-
ways between his lips."

Shirley: General Grant smoked. All men
who think deeply along material lines seem to
smoke.

Ryder: Well, we'll let that go. How about
this : "John Broderick loved, when a young man,
a girl who I'ved in Vermont; but circumstances
separated them." I loved a girl when I was a
lad and she lived in Vermont, and circumstances
separated us; that isn't coincidence, for presently
you m^e John Broderick marry a young woman
who had money. I married a girl with money
and

Shirley: Lots of men marry for money

Ryder (sharply) : I said with money, not for
money. But this, this is what I can't understand,
for no one could have told you this but myself.
(Reads) : "With all his physical bravery, and his
personal courage, John Broderick was intensely
afraid of death. It was in his mind constantly."
Who told you that I — I've never mentioned it to
a living soul.

Shirley: Most men who amass money are
afraid of death, because death is about the only
thing that can separate them from their money.

Ryder (Laughs.) Why, you're a real character.

Shirley (laughs with him) : It's logical.

Ryder: You're a curious girl. Upon my word,
you interest me. I want you to make as good a
book of this chaos as you did out of your own
imagination. (Takes more manuscripts out of
box.)

Shirley : So you think your life is a good ex-
ample to follow? (Looking carelessly over
papers.)

Ryder: Isn't it?

Shirley: Suppose we all wanted to follow it,
suppose we all wanted to be the richest, the most
powerful personage in the world.

Ryder: Well?

Shirley: I think it would postpone the era of
the Brotherhood of man indefinitely. Don't you?

Ryder: I never looked at it from that point of
view. You're a strange girl. You can't be more
than twenty or so

Shirley : I'm twenty-four or so.

Ryder: Where did you get these details?
Come, take me into your confidence?

Shirley (pointing to book) : I have taken you
into my confidence, and it cost you $1.50. (Then
pointing to papers.) I'm not so sure about this.

Ryder: You don't think my life would make
good reading?

Shirley: It might. (Looking over papers.)
But I don't consider that mere genius in money-
making is sufficient provocation for rushing into
print. You see unless you came to a bad end, it
would have no moral.

Ryder : Upon my word, I don't know why I'm

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

429

so anxious to have you do this work. I suppose
it's because you don't want to. You remind me
of my son. Ah, he's a problem.

Shirley : Wild ?

Ryder: No, I wish he were.

Shirley: Fallen in love with the wrong wom-
an, I suppose.

Ryder: Something of the sort. How did you
guess?

Shirley: Oh, I don't know. So many boys do
that. Besides I can hardlv imagine that any wom-
an would be the right woman unless you
selected her yourself.

Ryder: Do you know that you say the strang-
est things?

Shirley: Truth is strange, isn't it? I don't
suppose you hear it very often.

Ryder: Not in that form.

Shirley {glancing over the letters) : All these
from Washington consulting you on politics, and
finance; they won't interest the world.

Ryder: Your artistic sense will tell you what
to use.

Shirley: Does your son still love this girl?

Ryder : No.

Shirley: Yes, he does.

Ryder: How do you know?

Shirley: From the way you say he doesn't.

Ryder {admiringly) : You're right again, the
idiot does love her.

Shirley {aside) : Bless his heart. {Aloud.)
Well, I hope they'll both outwit you.

Ryder: {Laughs more interested in her than
ever.) Do you know I don't think I ever met
anyone in my life quite like you?

Shirley: What's your objection to the girl?^

Ryder: Every objection. I don't want her in
my family. And I object to her father.

Shirley: Anything against her character?
{Busies herself with papers to hide her interest.)

Ryder : Yes — no — not that I know of. But be-
cause a woman has a good character that doesn't
necessarily mean that she should make a desira-
ble match, does it? ^

Shirley: It's a point in her favor, isn't it?

Ryder : Yes — but

Shirley: You are a great student of men,
aren't you, Mr. Ryder?

Ryder : Yes — I

Shirley: Why don't you study women? That
would enable you to understand a great many
things that I don't think are quite clear to you
now.

Ryder : I will. I'm studying you. But I don't
seem to be making much headway. A woman like
you, whose mind isn't eaten up with the amuse-
ment habit, has great possibilities, great possibil-
ities. Do you know you're the first woman I ever
took into my confidence? I mean at sight. I'm
acting on sentiment, something I rarely do. I
don't know why. I like you, upon my soul I do,
and I'm going to introduce you to my wife — my —
son — {takes telephone receiver from hook) and
you're going to be a great friend of theirs. You
are going to like them. You

Shirley: What a commander-jn-chief you
would have made! How natural it is for you to
command. I suppose you always tell people what
they are to do and how they are to do it. You
are a natural-born general. You know, I've often
thought that a Napoleon and Caesar and Alexan-
der must have been domestic leaders as well as
imperial rulers. I am sure of it now.

Ryder: {Nonplussed.) Well — of — all— {Gets
up one step from chair and bows.) Will you
please do me the honor to meet my family?

Shirley {smiling sweetly) : Thank you, Mr.
Ryder, I will. {Looks at papers to control her de-
light.)

Ryder {at telephone) : Hello, hello, is that you
Bagley? {A pause.) Get rid of General Dodge.
I can't see him to-day. I'll see him to-morrow at
the same time. Eh? (Shirley, who has been por-
ing over the papers, starts, nearly drops and utters
a slight cry.) What's the matter?

Shirley: Nothing — nothing. {Glances aside
at Ryder and tries to abstract a letter from
papers. He casually catches her eye and she pre-
tends to be indifferent.)

Ryder {to Shirley) : Well, well, consider the
matter settled. When will you come?

Shirley {in a peculiar hoarse voice, showing
she is under a strain) : You want me to come
here? {Is frightened; looks at letter, then at
Ryder. He catches her eye, leans on desk, then
looks toward letter she is reading.)

Ryder: Yes, I don't want those papers to get
out of the house. Hello, what's that? Excuse
me. {Sees what she is reading and realizes that
it is an important paper; takes it away from her.)
How on earth did they get there? Curious,
they're from the very man we were speaking of.
{Takes keys out of pocket and opens drawer.)
ijHiRLEY: You mean Judge Rossmore?
Ryder {suspiciously) : How did you know it
was Judge Rossmore? I didn't know his name
had been mentioned.

Shirley: I saw his signature.
Ryder: {Locks letters in drawer.)
Shirley: He's the father of the girl you dis-
like, isn't he?

Ryder: Yes — he's the — the — {Ends sentence
with a gesture of impatient anger.)
Shirley : How you hate him !
Ryder: Not at all. I disagree with his politics
and his methods. And I know very little about
him except that he is about to be removed from
office.

Shirley: Oh, about to be! {Rises and drops
paper.) Then it is decided even before he is
tried? {Starts to pick up paper.)

Ryder: No, no, allow me. {Picks up paper
and goes back to box for papers.)

Shirley: If I remember correctly, one of the
newspapers seems to think he is innocent of the
charge of which he is accused.
Ryder {thoughtfully) : Perhaps.
Shirley: In fact, most of them are on his
side.
Ryder : Yes.

Shirley: Whose side are you on? Really and
truly.

Ryder: Whose side am I on? I — Oh, I don't
know that I am on any side. I don't know that I

give it much thought. I

Shirley: Do you think this man deserves to
be punished?
Ryder: Why do you ask? {He rises.)
Shirley: I don't know, it interests me. {Try-
ing to be calm.) That's all. It's a romance.
Your son loves the daughter of this man. He's
in disgrace; many seem to think unjustly—
{With some emotion.) And I have heard from
some source or other — you know I know a great
many newspaper men ; in fact I have done news-
paper work myself— I have heard that life has no

430

CURRENT LITERATURE

longer any interest for him, that he is not
only disgraced but beggared; that he is pining
away, slowly dying of a broken heart. {Sits. All
through this scene she tries to be light and non-
chalant.) Ah, why not come to his rescue — you
who are so rich and powerful?

Ryder: My dear girl, you don't understand.
His removal is a necessity.

Shirley: You think this man is innocent?

Ryder: Even if I knew it, I couldn't move

Shirley: Not if you knew? Do you mean to
say if you had the absolute proof you couldn't
help him?

Ryder: I could not betray the men who have
been my friends. It's noblesse oblige in politics
as well as society.

Shirley: Oh, it is politics! That's what the
paper said, and you believe him innocent —
(Laughs.) Oh I think you're having a little joke
at my expense, just to see how far you can lead
me. I dare say Judge Rossmore deserves all he
gets. Oh yes, he deserves it — (Ryder watches
her curiously.)

Shirley: Please forgive me — I — (Laughing
to conceal her emotion.) It's the artistic imagina-
tive temperament in full working order : A story
of hopeless love between two people with the father
of the girl hounded by politicians and financiers.
It was too much for me ! ha ! ha ! I forgot where
I was. (She watches him furtively; she is in-
tensely nervous, wiping perspiration from her
face. At this moment Senator Roberts followed
by Kate Roberts enters the room.)

Roberts : I assumed the privilege of an old
friend and passed by the guard. Kate gave Bag-
ley a countersign and got through with me.

Ryder (rising) : Glad to see you. Senator.
Sorry to have kept you waiting. Miss Green,
allow me to introduce Senator Roberts and Miss
Roberts. Senator, this is the young woman

who (Points to the book.) She is the one

who did it

Kate (interested): Oh, really! (Crosses to
table.)

Roberts: God bless my soul, you don't say so?
So young and yet so — so — so — indeed this is an
unexpected pleasure. Did you know that your
book has been quoted in our Senate chamber by
one of the Populist members, as the mirror in
which the commercial octopus could gaze upon
himself?

Shirley: Really, I

Ryder: (Bell.) I'll order some tea. You'd
like a cup of tea, wouldn't you Miss Green, and
so would you, Kate?

Kate: Tea, in the sanctum sanctorum? What
will Mr. Bagley think? Father, do you hear?

Roberts: Yes, but I prefer soda and whiskey.

Kate : Miss Green, if you only knew what ex-
ceptional honors are being heaped upon us.
(Enter Jorkins, a man servant.)

Ryder : Tea, Jorkins, here. (Jefferson ap-
pears at the door.)

Jorkins: Here, sir?

Ryder: Yes, here. (Exit Jorkins.)

Jefferson: Excuse my interrupting you,
father, but I leave early to-morrow, and before I

Ryder : We'll talk about that to-night. I want
you to meet Miss Green. Miss Green, this is "
my son Jefferson. (Looks at paper on desk.)

Jefferson (starts) : Miss Green

Ryder: Yes, Miss Sarah Green, the writer.

Shirley : I am pleased to meet you, Mr.
Ryder. (Holds out her hand; he is dumb-
founded; stares at her face and does not see her
outstretched hand.)

Ryder (rather amazed) : Why don't you shake
hands with her? She won't bite you. (Shirley
and Jefferson shake hands.)

Ryder: Kate — Miss Green, I want you to
know this little girl very well ; she's going to be
my son Jefferson's wife. (The girls smile at
each other.) And I want you to look after Jef-
ferson. (Enter Bagley, followed by servant with
tea tray.)

Ryder (to Shirley): I want you to talk to
him the same as you did to me.

Jefferson : Shirley

Shirley: Miss Green!

Jefferson : Miss Green, may I get you some
tea?

Shirley: Thank you, yes.

Ryder: Senator, the young man has a will of
his own, but he will come to our way of thinking.
He'll come around.

Jefferson : Sugar ?

Shirley: One lump, please. (Jefferson
brings down tea.) And later on I want you to
get the key of that left-hand-corner drawer

Jefferson: Father's private desk?

Shirley : Hush I

Jefferson (to Ryder) : Father, I've changed
my mind. I'm not going away.

The third act brings Senator Roberts again
from Washington. He has received notice
from his wife that his daughter Kate is plan-
ning to elope with Bagley the next morning.
Ryder takes the situation at once in hand and
dismisses his blue-blooded secretary Bagley
like a schoolboy. From this conversation
with Roberts it is evident that Judge Ross-
more's fate is sealed. Sentiment is for him,
but the decision v^rill be given on party lines,
and Roberts returns to Washington only to
make victory doubly sure. After he is gone,
Jefiferson beards the financial lion in his den
and reproaches him for having repeated the
announcement of his marriage to Kate Rob-
erts, and even set a date for the occasion. He
insists that his love belongs to Shirley. Ryder
threatens that, in such emergency, after be-
ing through with her father in Washington,
he would send his sleuths upon the heels of
the girl, and within a short time make her
a notorious woman. Here Jefferson goes out,
and Shirley, who has heard nothing of the
conversation, enters, still as Sarah Green.
She is greatly wrought up over the news
from Washington. Ryder asks her for
advice in regard to his son, for, in the
short time she has been in Ryder's house the
plucky girl had won the hearts of every mem-
ber of the Ryder family. "I am against a
blind wall," he says, "I can't see my way. I'm
ashamed of myself, ashamed. Did you ever

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

431

hear the fable of the Lion and the Mouse?
Well, I want you to gnaw with your sharp
woman's teeth at the cord which binds my
son to this Rossmore woman. I want you
to be the mouse. Set me free from this dis-
graceful entanglement." He finally proposes
to her in his son's name. Kate, he says, is
not in love with Jefferson, nor he with
her. But a brilliant woman like Sarah
Green would surely be able to make him for-
get Judge Rossmore's daughter. At this junc-
ture ex-Judge Stott, Judge Rossmore's at-
torney, is announced. Shirley earnestly
pleads with Ryder to receive him. She knows
her father's life — and more — is at stake. She
adds that it would be diplomatic, as the re-
fusal of such a request could only harden
Jefferson's heart toward his father. Ryder
finally accedes, but turns a deaf ear to the
Judge's appeal. The latter thereupon con-
fronts him with the letter which Shirley had
purloined from the desk and threatens to
publish it. Ryder is unmoved by the threat.
He is sure of the Senate and knows that it is
too late for the letter to be offered as evidence,
and he is used to being reviled in newspapers.
After he has sent the Judge away, pale with
anger, he calls for Jefferson.

Jefferson : You sent for me, father ?

Ryder: What of the letters in this drawer?

Jefferson : What letters ?

Ryder : The letters that were in the left-hand-
corner drawer.

Jefferson : Why — I — I

Ryder: You took them?

Jefferson : Yes.

Ryder: And sent them to Judge Stott.

Jefferson: Yes. (Shhiley starts.)

Ryder: As I thought. You deliberately sacri-
ficed my interests to save this woman's father.
You hear him Miss Green. Jefferson, I think it's
time you and I had a final accounting. (Shirley
starts up.) Please don't go. Miss Green. As the
writer of my autobiography you are sufficiently
well acquainted with my family affairs to warrant
your being present at the epilog. Besides, I want
an excuse for keeping my temper. For your
mother^s sake, boy, I have overlooked your little
eccentricities of character. We have arrived at
the parting of the ways. You have gone too far.
The one aspect of this business I cannot overlook
is your willingness to sell your father for the
sake of a woman.

Jefferson: My father wouldn't hesitate to sell
me if his business and political interests war-
ranted the sacrifice.

Shirley: Ah, please don't say these things,
Mr. Jefferson. I don't think he quite understands
you, Mr. Ryder, and, if you will pardon me, I
don't think you quite understand him. Do you
realize that there is a man's life at stake — that
Judge Rossmore is almost at the point of death
and that favorable news from the Senate Chamber
to-morrow is perhaps the only thing that can save
him?

Ryder: Judge Stott's story has quite aroused
your sympathy.

Shirley: Yes, I — I confess my sympathy is
aroused. I do feel for this father whose life is
slowly ebbing away, whose strength is being
sapped daily, hourly, by the thought of his dis-
grace, the injustice that is being done him. I do
feel for the wife of this suffering man.

Ryder: Now we have a complete picture; the
dying father, the sorrowing wife, and the daugh-
ter. What is she supposed to be doing?

Shirley {with meaning) : She is fighting for
her father's life, and you — (to Jefferson) —
should have pleaded — pleaded — not demanded. It's
no use trying to combat your father's will.

Jefferson : She is quite right, father. I should
have implored you. I do so now. I ask you, for
God's sake, to help us.

Ryder (sees his son's attitude and changes for
a moment. After a pause) : His removal is a
political necessity. If this man goes back on the
bench, every paltry justice of the peace, every
petty official, will think he has a special mission
to tear down the structure that hard work and
capital has erected. No, this man has been es-
pecially conspicuous in his efforts to block the
progress of amalgamated interests.

Shirley: And so he must die!

Ryder: He is an old man; he is one, we are
many.

Jefferson : He is innocent of the charges
brought against him.

Shirley: Mr. Ryder is not considering that
point. All he can see is that it is necessary to
put this poor man in the public pillory, to set him
up as a warning to others of his class, not to act
in accordance with the principles of truth and
justice, not to dare obstruct the car of Juggernaut
set in motion by the money-gods of this world.

Ryder: Survival of the fittest, my dear.

Shirley: Oh, use your great influence with
this governing body for good!

Ryder: By George, Jefferson, I give you credit
for having secured an excellent advocate.

Shirley: Suppose — suppose this daughter
promises that she will never never see your son
again; that she will go away to some foreign
country ?

Jefferson: No, why should she? If my father
isn't man enough to do a simple act of justice
without bartering a woman's happiness, his son's
happiness, let him rot in his own self-justification.

Ryder (crosses to Jefferson) : Jefferson, my
boy, you see how this girl pleads your case for
you. She loves you. Believe me, she does. She's
worth a thousand of the other women. Make her
your wife and I will do anything you ask.

Jefferson: Make her my wife? (Trying to
control himself. He cannot believe his ears.)
Make — her — my — wife !

Ryder: Come, what do you say?

Jefferson : Yes — yes — ( Unable to speak
for fear that he will betray himself.) I can't ask
her now, father — some time later.

Ryder: No, to-night. At once. Miss Green,
my son is much affected by your disinterested ap-
peal in his behalf. He — he — you can save him
from himself. My son yishes you — he — asks you
to become his wife. Is it not so, Jefferson?

Jefferson : Yes — yes — my wife. (Laughs hys-
terically.)

Shirley: Oh, no — no — Mr. Ryder, I cannot. I
—I can't.

43*

CURRENT LITERATURE

Ryder (appealingly) : Why not? Ah, don't de-
cide hastily. • , ^.

Shirley: I cannot marry your son with these
lies on my Hps. I cannot go on with this decep-
tion. I told you you did not know who I am,
who my people are. My story about them, my
name, everything about me, is false. Every word
I have uttered is a lie, a fraud, a deception. I
wouldn't tell you now, but you trusted me and
are willing to entrust your son's future in my
keeping, and I can't keep back the truth from you.
Mr. Ryder, I am the daughter of the man you .
hate. I am the woman your son loves. 'Twas I
who took those letters and sent them to Judge
Stott. I am Shirley Rossmore.

Ryder : You ?

Shirley: Yes, yes, I am. Now listen to me,
Mr. Ryder. Don't turn away from me. Go to
Washington on behalf of my father and I promise
you I will never see your son again, never, never.

Jefferson : Shirley 1

Shirley: Jeff, forgive me, — my father's life!

Jefferson: You are sacrificing our happiness.

Shirley: No happiness can be built on lies.
We have deceived your father, but he will forgive
that, won't you, and you will go to Washington?
You will save my father's honor, his life? You
will — you will

Ryder : No — no — I will not. You have ^vormed
yourself into my confidence by means of lies and
deceit. You have tricked me, fooled me, to the
very limit. Oh, it's easy to see how you have be-
guiled my son into the folly of loving you. And
you have the brazen effrontery to come here and
ask me to plead for your father. No, no, let the
law take its course. And now. Miss Rossmore,
you will please leave my house to-morrow morn-
ing. .

Shirley : I will leave your house to-night. Do
you think I would remain another hour beneath
the roof of a man who is as blind to justice, as
deaf to mercy, as incapable of human sympathy as
you are!

Ryder: Leave the room!

Jefferson : Father !

Ryder: You have tricked him, as you have
tricked me.

Shirley: It is your own vanity that has
tricked you. You lay traps for yourself and walk
into them; you compel everyone around you to
lie to you, to cajole, to praise, to deceive you.
At least you cannot accuse me of flattering you.
I have never fawned upon you as you compel
your family, your "friends, your dependents to do.
I have always appealed to your better nature by
telling you the truth, and in your heart you know
that I am speaking the truth now.

Ryder {controls himself with ditHculty) :
Please go !

Jefferson: Yes, let us go, Shirley. (Goes
toward Shirley.)

Shirley : No, Jeff, I came here alone, and I'm
going alone.

Jefferson : No, you are no^. I intend to make
you my wife.

Shirley: Do you think I could marry a man
whose father is as deep a discredit to the human
race as your father is? No, I couldn't, Jeff. I
couldn't marry the son of such a merciless tyrant.
He refuses to lift his voice to save my father. I
refuse to marry his son. You think if you lived
in the older days — (Ryder is dumbfounded) —
you'd be a Caesar or an Alexander, but you

wouldn't. You'd be a Nero, a Nero! Sink my
self-respect to the extent of marrying into your
family? Never! I am going to Washington
without your aid. I am going to save my father
if I have to go on my knees to every United
States Senator at the Capitol. I'll go to the
White House! I'll tell the President what you
are ! Marry your son, indeed ! Marry your son !
No, thank you, Mr. Ryder !

CURTAIN.

That night no one in the Ryder family had
much sleep. Shirley is forced to stay
under Ryder's roof owing to the inclem-
ency of the weather. The next morning
Jefferson vainly lays his heart once more at
her feet. He even offers to go with her to
Washington and openly oppose his father.
She refuses. Old Ryder meanwhile calls
Roberts back from Washington and makes a
new deal with him by which the scales of
Judge Rossmore's fate are turned. Roberts
and his fellows will have to eat their words,
but the compensation will be Ryder's support
in a scheme relating to the Erie Canal. He
then asks to see Miss Rossmore. The latter
refuses to see him, but he attempts to force
upon her a check for her services, which she
had scornfully returned to him. He will not
be balked a second time. He holds out the
check to her:

Ryder : It is yours ; please take it.

Shirley: No. I can't tell you how low I
should fall in my own estimation if I took your
money. (Contemptuously.) Your money! Why
it's all there is to you — it's your God. Shall I
make your God my God? No, — Mr. Ryder.

Ryder: And so I contaminate even good
money ?

Shirley : Money itself is neither good nor bad.
It's the spirit that gives it — the spirit that receives
it. Money creates happiness, but it also ' creates
misery. It destroys individuals as it does nations.
It has destroyed you, for it has warped your very
soul.

Ryder : No — I

Shirley: I repeat it — money, the power it has
given you, has dried up the wellspnngs of your
heart.

Maid Servant (entering) : Cab's at the door.
Miss. (Maid goes out.)

Ryder: You won't need it. I — I came here to
tell you that I — (As if ashamed of himself) —
Ah, you've made it very hard for me to speak.
(Slozvly.) I've seen Senator Roberts and I'm
going to Washington.

Shirley: My father

Ryder: It's all ria:ht about your father. He'll
not be impeached. The matter will be adjusted.
You've beaten me. I acknowledge it. But you're
the first living soul who has beaten John Ryder.

Shirley : You mean that you are going to help
my father?

Ryder : Not for his sake, not for his sake.

Shirley: Ah, the principle of the thing.

Ryder : Never mind the principle — it's for you.

Shirley (shakes her head) : And I had no
faith — no faith.

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

433

Ryder {pauses, as if ashamed) : I'm going
to Washington on behalf of your father because
— I — I want you to marry my son. Yes, I want
you in my family — close to me ; I want your
respect, my girl. I want your love. I want to
earn it. I know I can't buy it. There's a
weak link in every man's chain, and that's
mine -^ I always want what I can't get.
I can't get your love unless I earn it. Oh don't
tell me I can, because I know I can't. {Sees that
she is pensive and does not speak.) Why, you
look almost disappointed; you've gained your
point. You've beaten me. Your father is going
to be restored to you. You're going to marry the
man you love. Is that the right time? {Looks at
watch.) I leave in fifteen minutes for Washing-
ton. Will you trust me to go alone, or will you
go with me?

Shirley : I trust you, but I'll go with you. It's

very good of you to allow me to win you over.

Ryder : You won me over last night when you
put up that fight for your father. We're not
going alone. {Goes to door.) Jeff — ^Jeff

Shirley: He'll be the happiest man in the
world. Father — father — I want to laugh and I
feel like crying. (Jefferson enters.)

Jefferson : He has told you ?

Shirley: Yes. (Roberts enters.)

Roberts : Bad news, Ryder. {Everybody turns
and looks at him.) Kate has gone off with Bag-
ley. {Ominously.) Jeflf, my boy

Ryder: Oh, he'll get over it, won't you?
{Roberts goes out.) Mind, we leave for Wash-
ington in ten minutes.

Shirley : We'll be there.

Jefferson : Together ?

Shirley: Together.

CURTAIN.

THE MOST VERSATILE ACTOR IN THE WORLD

HE great Italian actor, Ermete No-
velli, who is now for the first time
visiting the United States, is said to
be the most versatile actor in the
world. His repertoire ranges from the "Oedi-
pus Rex" of Sophocles and "Hamlet" to the
modern French farce, and embraces, all in
all, no less than one hundred roles. He is
equally famous for his tragic denunciations
and his vivacious humorous monologs.

Novelli, like so many great actors, was
"born on the road." As did Ellen Terry, he
made his first appearance at the age of eight.
When he had reached his twenty-third year
his name began to be familiar in the larger
cities, mainly owing to his abnormally long
olfactory organ. At thirty-four, in 1886, he
had begun to rank among the prominent actors
of his native land, and his tours extended from
South America to Egypt and from Russia to
Spain. In 1898 he finally achieved the height
of his ambition and took Paris by storm.

The New York Times, from which these
data are chieflly taken, gives an interesting ac-
count of the hard struggle Novelli had in or-
der to win serious recognition. For he was
not satisfied with amusing the public, but
wanted the higher and more classic standing
of a tragedian. The first time he appeared in
a tragic role the audience hissed, not because
he played badly, but because they were used
to see him in comic guise. Novelli retired
in tears to his dressing-room. A weaker man
would have yielded; theatrical history is full
of similar records. Not so Novelli. He per-
sisted in his endeavors to enforce his recog-

nition as a tragic actor from a reluctant pub-
lic. Little by little the battle was won, and
Novelli became, in a sense, the Novelli of to-
day, tragedian and comedian in one.

The Theatre Magazine prints a fascinating
study by Benjamin de Casseres of Signor No-
velli's greatest creations in the field of trag-
edy— Shylock and King Lear. His conception
of Shylock, the writer affirms, is absolutely
original. Booth made of Shylock a melan-
choly wandering Jew. Mansfield makes of
him a demon of hatred. "Novelli only among
all the actors who have tried this difficult role
has brought to the surface in stark nudeness
the subtlety of the Jew of Venice, subtlety that
is more than the subtlety of an individual
robbed of his ducats and his daughter, in that
it mirrors the cunning, the subterranean hate,
the watch-and-ward of a degraded, wronged
people." To quote further:

"These studies are atomic; Novelli's gestures
are the minutiae of a soul. The face is now a
mask for calculated stupidity, now a dumb show
of volcanic emotions; the eyes robbed of their
lights by a thought that sits heavy upon nis in-
quiet soul, then suddenly transversed by mockery,
triumph, unspeakable irony — the great round
pupils becoming two grimacing devils from hell ;
his postures slavish, kingly, obsequious, as flexible
as his desires, crooked to the angle of his needs,
a" gymnast of expectations, an insinuating worm,
a twisted, broken father chased by the dirty ur-
chins of Venice — thus has Novelli followed Ham-
let's injunction of 'suiting the action to the word,'
giving to us, through the wonder of his art, a
creature whose vengeful wickedness, undeserved
sufferings and demoniacal spitefulness leave their
tracks in the memory from act to act and long
after the final curtam."

434

CURRENT LITERATURE

By courtesy of The Theatre Maj^azine

THE PADEREWSKI OF THE STAGE

Ermete NovelH, the great Italian actor, who is now
playing for the first time in America. The muscles of
his face, it is said, are as obedient to his will as is the
keyboard of a piano to the touch of a musical virtuoso.

Novelli's King Lear, de Casseres goes on to
say, is a fit companion to his Shylock.

"In his very first gestures in the first act he
strikes the keynote of the tragedy. In his queru-
lous shake of the head, his munching of a tooth-
less mouth, his gimlet-like glance of suspicion at
his courtiers when he mounts the throne, he
shows already the beginnings, the foundations, of
that malady, which helped along by circumstances
was to do its deadly work in that brain. No de-
tail, however minute, has escaped Novelli. From
that first entrance he unwinds the inexorable
chain of Lear's destiny, depicting with a starthng
knowledge of the psychopathic, the crumbling of
the crapulous, irritable, proud old tyrant."

The two roles here described represent only
a small portion of Novelli's tragic repertoire.
His acting in all cases is intensely realistic.
He crushes our mind with the intensity of
his vivid portrayals and overwhelms us with
the sincerity' of his art. He carries us at will
with him until we, like "marionettes in the
hands of a master, are seduced out of our own
personalities and act with him in those fictions
of passions which his art bodies before our
eyes." In moments of intensity Novelli's mar-
velous facial powers are displayed. His face
becomes the mirror of his soul. The muscles
covered with skin are as absolutely under his
control as are the keys of a piano under the
fingers of a great pianist. Novelli, the writer
concludes, is a Paderewski of the histrionic art.

HOW BELASCO CREATES DRAMATIC STARS

AN a great actor be made? David
Belasco seems to have solved the
problem. Again and again he has
taken comparatively obscure actors
and set them as stars in the theatrical firma-
ment. In the comparatively short time that he
has been a producing manager he has devel-
oped the genius of Mrs. Leslie Carter, Blanche
Bates, David Warfield, and this season has
added to his list Miss Frances E. Starr, whose
delineation of the title-role in "The Rose of
the Rancho" has been one of the most notable
events of the season. With unerring judg-
ment Belasco developed the talents of Mrs.
Leslie Carter, who came to him years ago
pleading and unknown. He took Mr, War-
field out of musical comedy and rescued Miss
Bates from the artistic desert of the travel-
ing companies. Mr. Warfield has since then
played "The Music Master" upward of six
hundred times in New York, and recently
eclipsed Edwin Booth's record for the largest
receipts ever taken in at the Academy of

Music. Miss Bates has appeared over four
hundred times in "The Girl of the Golden
West" at the Belasco Theater, and thereby
recorded the longest engagement ever played
by a female star in New York. No less re-
markable was the transformation of Miss
Starr from an obscure actress into a theatrical
luminary of the first magnitude.

In a chat with Harriet Quimby, printed in
Leslie's Weekly, Miss Starr has explained in
a measure the secret of Belasco's magic. "Mr.
Belasco," she says, "has a faculty of bringing
out all that is good in one. He has patience
and understanding to a wonderful degree, but
the compelling force which is felt by all who
come under his direction is love. He loves
his work, he loves the people who work for
him, and from the stage hands up his people
love and respect him." Sympathy is the ses-
ame that opens the gates of the soul. Mr.
Belasco himself once remarked on the sub-
ject: "A manager must study the person and
must find out just how much to leave to that

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

435

person's interpretation. That is the real se-
cret." He went on to say:

"An actor, an actress, may have a certain
nature. Something may be dormant in that na-
ture, and necessarily, by reason of that ignorance,
he passes over the things that he has not ex-
perienced.

"The sentiment and the more violent emotions
would appeal to him or to her and could be acted
properly; but the subtler emotions, the beautiful,
tender thoughts, they may never have had an
opportunity to experience, and consequently can-
not interpret them as they should be interpreted.
It is, then, in these points that they can be as-
sisted and coached.

"We are all like instruments, full of emotions.
It only needs some one who knows how to strike
the right string, and the melody will be forth-
coming."

Mr. Franklin Frederick, writing in The Bo-
hemian, observes that tho Belasco achieves
great results with actors, as in the case of
Warfield, he is still more successful with
women. Belasco, he adds, is essentially fem-
iniste like Sardou, Hervieu, Pinero and Su-
dermann, who write for women better than
for men. He can take an actress whom others
have passed over with indifference, and, pro-
vided she is plastic and conformable to sug-
gestions, make her show powers that fairly
astound one. A writer in The Theatre Maga-
zine goes even further. "Mr. Belasco," she
says, "has the eyes of a woman of genius."

David Belasco in accordance with his femi-
nine temperament is intensely interested in
each detail of his work, first in writing a play
and then in most effectively staging it. "Few
playwrights," remarks Marie B. Schrader,
"have the gift of revision to the same degree.
He re-wrote the third act of 'The Girl of the
Golden West' thirteen times, and one day he
showed the writer a large leather dress-suit
case full of loose manuscript which was only a
fraction of the paper wasted in writing that
particular act before it had reached a satis-
factory stage to meet the approval of his own
critical judgment."

Belasco has probably given the American
stage more notable plays written by himself or
in collaboration, than have been given by any
other American dramatist, with the single ex-
ception of Clyde Fitch. Some of them are:
"La Belle * Russe," "May Blossom,'' "The
Wife," "The Charity Ball," "Lord Chumley,"
"The Girl I Left Behind Me," "The Heart of
Maryland," "Zaza," "Du Barry," "The Dar-
ling of the Gods," "Sweet Kitty Bellairs,"
"Adrea," "The Rose of the Rancho," and "The
Girl of the Golden West."

Even more important than the mere writing
is the staging of one of Belasco's tiramss.

"HIS COMPELLING FORCE IS SYMPATHY"
This, says Frances E. Starr, is the secret of David
Belasco's mag^c as a maker of reputations.

Here he brings all his resources and those of
his actors into play. Boucicault once said
that a play is not written but constructed.
"Belasco," affirms Mr. Frederick in the article
quoted above, "literally builds a play during
rehearsal, and his method of rehearsing a new
production is a school of instruction to veteran
actors, while it is worth more to the ambitious
novice than a whole course at an academy of
dramatic art."

A great deal of "business" — to use the jar-
gon of the stage — is developed at rehearsal.
Mr. Frederick says:

"The dialog is cut, whole pages being ruth-
lessly blue-penciled, because so much talk at this
point impedes the action and spoils the intended
effect. Or, possibly, the words so carefully set
down in the repose and solitude of the study have
a new sense to the ear in actual use. Or, again,
this particular actor may not be able to bring out
the value of the lines, and new expressions must
be substituted which are better suited to his per-
sonality. Scenes are rehearsed this way and that,
experimentally, to determine which is the better.
You see a scene carefully gone over and over
again one day, and the next you might not be
able to identify it, though the words perhaps arc

HE ASPIRES TO BECOME A MILLIONAIRE
David Warfield, one of Belasco's brightest stars, is on the way to realize his ambition. He has recently
eclipsed Edwin Booth's record for the largest receipts ever taken in at the Academy of Music, New York.

THE ROSE OF THE RANCHO
Frances E. Starr, the newest luminary in Belasco's theatrical firmament.
klmoit in a night, a metropolitan star.

From an obscure actress she became.

438

CURRENT LITERATURE

the same you heard spoken yesterday. By a few
bold changes the little scene has been transmuted
into an incident fairly thrilling with spirit and
animation.

"It is only a reading rehearsal, and the actors
are not confused by cuts and changes so long as
they have not 'committed' their lines, that is,
memorized them. And a fortunate thing it is, for
even to his own literary handiwork Belasco re-
morselessly applies the maxim that plays are not
written but constructed. He has no scruples to
destroy what he has most carefully prepared if
he believes it necessary.

"As the rehearsals progress, one piece of scen-
ery after another is brought upon the stage and
set up, and particular scenes are played again and
again. By constant repetition of the telling in-
cidents certain moments of dramatic tension are
developed and emphasized, or made to stand out
with the strongest possible distinction."

Mr. Belasco, it seems, may in truth be de-
scribed as the sun from which the dramatic
stars in his system borrow their light. He
started in life as a call-boy in a theater and
stands to-day in the very front rank of ar-

tistic Americans. But in his youth he had a
vision, a dream that has been the lodestar of
his destiny. He is a dreamer whose dream
has come true. "The boy dreams and dreams,"
he once remarked. "Sometimes the dream
comes true." He wistfully added:

"I used to help other boys out West with fool-
ish little plays in barns, and we took in bottles
or pieces of iron or nails for entrance fees, and
then we sold them and took the money and went
and sat in the top gallery and witnessed real
plays.

"But always was the dream of some day really
acting myself, and then when I really did act in
those strolling companies in the West where we
took our wardrobes in champagne baskets .and
played in barns or lofts and traveled about from
place to place in wagons, there was another dream
that some time I might own my own theater.

"One cannot begin to dream too soon if one
expects to transform the dream into reality, and
I believe that most men who have accomplished
anything have had the dream in their early boy-
hood."

THE WANING GLORY OF GERHART HAUPTMANN

AUPTMANN is a fallen idol. The
star of his genius is on the decline.
Modern Germany repudiates him.
I The same men who have hailed him
as the Goethe of his day are now directing the
shafts of their sarcasm not only against his
later productions, but even against those earlier
plays which have earned for him the title of
Germany's greatest living dramatic poet. He
has produced a play each year since the suc-
cess of the "Sunken Bell," and each year the
reception of his work has diminished in fer-
vor. The latest, "The Four Maids of Bischofs-
berg," from all accounts a delightfully innocu-
ous comedy, has caused a regular scandal de
theatre.

Germany was wont to receive with delight
Hauptmann the realist and, later, Hauptmann
the mystic. It will not, however, tolerate the
Hauptmann of comedy — Hauptmann, the
merely human. One disillusioned critic re-
marks that the dialog of the poet's latest play
is flat and insignificant. "Yet," he adds, "Haupt-
mann's dialogs have always been insignifi-
cant." His characters, we are told, are neither
brilliant nor profound. But the Silesian dialect
conceals the nudity of their thought in some
instances, while in others the obscurity of the
language seems to indicate hidden depths.
Even in last year's play, "Pippa Dances," re-
produced in part in Current Literature,

critics have sought to discover meanings of
which the author probably never dreamed.
The same would have happened if Gerhart
Hauptmann had worked out the theme of
"The Maids of Bischofsberg" in an incom-
prehensible fairy-play. "In the present in-
stance, however," the writer concludes, "he
has committed the unpardonable blunder of
being intelligible."

Other critics are even severer in their con-
demnation. In Berlin only one unfortunate
dramatic critic had the courage to express his
unswerving belief in the genius of Gerhart
Hauptmann, and to describe even this latest
play in terms of mild approbation. It is from
this critic's account in the Berlin Lokalan-
zeiger that we shall borrow a description of
the plot.

Agatha, one of the "four maids," is engaged
to a pedantic pedagog. Professor Nast. Her
love, however, belongs to Dr. Griinwald,
who has gone to America to make his fortune.
She has had no news from him since then
and, more or less coerced by her father, mean-
while receives the attentions of the petty
pedagog. Circumstances are forcing her into
his arms, and the day for her marriage is al-
ready set, when two events conjoin to restore
her freedom. Professor Nast is an eager but
not very astute student of antiquity. A young
man whom he has wounded by his arrogance

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

439

determines to play a humiliating trick on him.
He deludes the professor into the belief that
certain antiquities are hidden in an old well.
Professor Nast at once sets out with great
ostentation to excavate the mysterious treas-
ure, and lo ! on lifting the moss-covered chest,
finds a few cans of preserves, sausages and
delicate viands. The blow to his vanity is too
great to be borne, and he departs from the
town chafing with rage. Simultaneously with
his departure Dr. Griinwald reappears, and
from afar the chime of wedding bells may be
heard.

This plot, it must be confessed, is at once
threadbare and uninspiring. "But," remarks
the Lokalanzeiger critic, "the love-play is
merely a skeleton for a fascinating dramatic
idyl and a character study at once pleasing and
original." The objects of this study are the
heroine and her three sisters. They are called
popularly "the four maids of B/'schofsberg,"
and are visualized in the play with remarkable
skill. While they have certain traits in com-
mon, each possesses an unconventional indi-
viduality charmingly and distinctively her own
"The home and garden of these four lov-
able maids," exclaims our critic, "are like a
promised land of art, and the subtle breath of
poetry permeating the whole accords with the
poetic finale of the play — the music and the
dance."

The audience that had gathered in the Less-
ing theater, the scene of Hauptmann's great-
est triumphs in the past, was less charitably
inclined than this critic. After the first act
even the Hauptmannites dared not take up the
cudgels for their hero, altho, according to one
critic, their fraternity would be; willing to
swallow even the alphabet if Hauptmann
should happen to dramatize it. They ap-
plauded weakly after the second act. After
the third their subdued enthusiasm rose a lit-
tle, and the author appeared to make his bow.
Here the opposition began to set in. Then
came an intermission, in the course of which
the opposing factions held council. During
the fourth act the audience was very restless.
After the curtain had fallen a violent "first-
night battle" was enacted. It started with
shouts of applause from the Hauptmann guard
in the galleries. The orchestra jeered and
hooted. Soon all artistic Berlin was engaged
in the battle. Among those present were the
dramatists Max Halbe, Georg Hirschfeld,
Oscar Blumenthal, Heyermans, Paul Lindau,
the leaders of the "secessionists;" also many
men prominent in society and government cir-
cles. The excitement rose higher and higher.

THE SADDEST MAN IN GERMANY

The author of "The Sunken Bell," after the crush-
ing fiasco of his latest play, is said to have retreated
to his castle in Silesia, where no human soul save one
or two chosen intimates may disturb his melancholy
revery.

After the last act the Hauptmannites rallied to
a new onslaught by calling for the author.
Hisses, the sound of whistles and epithets de-
cidedly unconventional, answered this renewed
provocation. Pandemonium ensued. And sud-
denly amid the turmoil the curtain rose again,
and Hautpmann appeared, bowing, self-con-
scious, pale, calm, ironical. Like Cardinal
Wolsey, he may have reflected in that moment
on the fickleness of fortune. It was a tragic
and memorable occasion. It closed one
of the most important chapters in the literary
history of modern Germany.

The critics, of course, seek a philosophic ex-
planation for Hauptmann's failure and his
waning fame. They say that Hauptmann has
exhausted himself by overproduction. His
plays, they affirm, especially those of his lat-
ter years, bear the traces of hasty workman-
ship. They are literary abortions, not the re-
sults of a slow, inward growth.

Paul Goldmann, in the Vienna Freie Presse,
takes a stand even more radical. Hauptmann's
talent, he says, is only mediocre, or it could
not have died without a spark. Even in the
failures of great men we find some flashes of
genius. Herr Goldmann is unable to discover

440

CURRENT LITERATURE

such flashes in Hautpmann's later work. He
also comments upon the imfinished character
of the poet's literary output. The poet, he
thinks, labors under the delusion of having
completed a drama when he had merely
sketched embryonically and imperfectly a
dramatic possibility. Nor is his self-deception
surprising. His very limitations were inter-
preted as perfections by the critics. They

agreed that his plays were dramatically inef-
fective, but then, they said, he was not a
craftsman of the drama, but a poet. His mor-
bid conception of life was given out to be a
grand and bold expression of eternal verities.
Lack of action was labeled skill in character
portraiture, boredom atmosphere, and obscur-
ity depth. The reaction has now set in and
modern Germany rejects the sad-eyed Silesian.

THE GREATEST ENGLISH-SPEAKING ACTOR
OF OUR TIME

OME time ago Mr. Alan Dale proved
to his own satisfaction that Mr.
Richard Mansfield is our "worst
actor." Mr. Mansfield, he said, has
arrived at a stage where people are too lazy
to criticize him and accept him at his own
valuation. Nevertheless, in Mr. Alan Dale's
opinion, he is a bad actor, being a "victim to
mannerisms of speech, walk, gesture and in-
tonation." Even at that time a number of
critics came to the rescue of Mansfield's
genius. Now, in the March number of Ap-
pleton's, a new champion arises for the bril-
liant, if erratic, actor in the person of John
Corbin, dramatic critic of The Sun. Mr. Cor-
bin, speaking with eloquence and authority,
places Richard Mansfield at the very head of
his profession in the English-speaking world.
At the death of Sir Henry Irving, he re-
calls, the question was mooted, both here and
abroad, upon whom had Irving's mantle fallen
— the mantle of the "master magician of the
English-speaking stage, who caught the light-
ning gleams of crime, aspirations or despair,
and fixed them in Rembrandtesque pictures
never to be forgotten." Mr. Corbin then enu-
merates those who were most prominently
mentioned in this connection, notably Forbes
Robertson and Sir Henry's distinguished son,
Henry B. Irving. "I do not remember," he
observes, "that much was said of a certain
actor of our own, a troublesome, volcanic fel-
low, the fires of whose genius have so often
broken loose before the curtain as behind it,
and the flame of whose sardonic wit blights
and sears while it illumines." To quote fur-
ther:

"That England should ignore Richard Mans-
field was inevitable; it had not seen his maturest
and greatest work. The art of the actor, being
writ m vanishing light and formless air, is a sealed

record to the outlander. That we should be tardy
in his praise is human; even more than the
prophet, the volcano is without honor in its own
country. We were impressed, moreover — some-
what provincially, perhaps — with the fame of Sir
Henry's son whose acquaintance we had yet to
make. Forbes Robertson we did know, and recog-
nized in him an actor who had achieved greatness
only in a single part, to be sure, but that the most
difficult and greatest of all, Hamlet. Since then
we have seen and somewhat deprecated Mr. Irv-
ing's appearance in the characters limned in the
fire of Sir Henry's imagination; and since then
Mr. Mansfield has put a crown to his former
achievements by lending his versatility and his
power to that wonderfully varied and striking
character, the Peer Gynt of Ibsen.

"Those who will may aspire to the mantle of
Sir Henry. Mr. Mansfield has come into his own
as the greatest actor on the English-speaking
stage, and it is time to say so."

Mr. Corbin insists that, in making the above
statement, he is not unaware of Mansfield's
defects — the constant outcroppings of his ego
and the traces of German accent in his speech.
At the most, Mr. Corbin holds, his manner-
isms are no more noxious than Irving's, and
in his most recent creations they have been
gratefully absent. Mr. Mansfield has tri-
umphed over himself in his sixth decade — the
time when most artists are becoming fixed and
old. His physical abilities are even to-day
little short of superlative. There is real buoy-
ancy in his Karl Heinz of "Alt Heidelberg,"
his Don Karlos, and his youthful Peer Gynt.
He is every inch a man in the truculence of
his Richard and even in the recrudescence of
the passions of the shattered Ivan. In com-
parison both Sir Henry Irving and Forbes
Robertson seem bloodless and colorless, in
Mr. Corbin's opinion.

Even more important technically than agil-
ity is the cast of countenance. The gnome-
like irregularity of Coquelin's face, and the
prominence of the features of Irving and

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

441

Forbes Robertson have limited the scope of
their histrionic activity. Mansfield's face por-
trays at will "the fresh charms of youth, the
strong passions of maturity, or the seared de-
crepitude of senility. At will it is radiantly
gracious, grotesquely humorous, or scarred by
tragical passion and despair."

Mr. Corbin then comes to speak of the su-
preme gift of the actor — his voice. Mr.
Mansfield himself has compared the human
voice to a palette, containing all shades of
color, from green to violet. Mr. Corbin takes
up the color comparison. He says:

"Duse's voice is characteristically silver, with a
touch, too, perhaps, of subtle metallic resonance.
Bernhardt's voice is always described as gold.
Mansfield's voice has also the richer coloring.
Even its colloquial shadings have the freshness
and authenticity of sunlight. Its anger burns
crimson, its rage flares into scarlet; and, when
the shadows of defeat, despair, and death pass
into it, its clear gold is transmuted as it fades
into the purple of sunset"

While Mr. Mansfield has at times marred
the artistic unity of plays in which he ap-
peared in order to hold even more prominently
the center of the stage, yet the fact remains
that he has always been inspired, if not ruled,
by solid and noble ambition. He forced the
public to accept his Shylock and his Richard,
and before the present vogue of Bernard
Shaw, appeared in "Arms and the Man" and
"The Devil's Disciple."

The crowning role of his career so far has
been his impersonation of Ibsen's Faust, that
Peter Pan grown-up — Peer Gynt. Bernard
Shaw has spoken of this play as the greatest
modern comedy and added that the role of the
hero requires "the greatest tragic, comic and
character actor of the world." Peer
Gynt is presented by Ibsen in four stages
of his career. The task of tracing the
development of a character from adolescence
to the grave which Mr. Mansfield — some-
what relatively, perhaps — has imposed upon
Shakespeare's Richard III., is here, we are
told, clearly requisite, and it is traced through
the most picturesque variety of incident. Mr.
Corbin says on this point:

"Peer begins as a peasant lad of the time when
peasants wore costume. He mingles riotously in
a rustic wedding feast, carries off the bride to the
mountains, deserts her to elope with the troll
king's daughter, the two riding double across the
stage on the pig which is her palfry. Outlawed
for his sins by peasants and trolls aJike, he flees
to America and becomes a slave-trading mer-
chant, in waistcoat and spats, who cruises in a
yacht on the Mediterranean, and serves his guests
with champag^ie and cigars. Stranded in Africa
he becomes a prophet of the desert in gown and

turban, and makes love to a dancing girl. Re-
turning home in advanced years, he suffers ship-
wreck, and in a dingy frock coat of the modern
world appears again to die among his own folk,
themselves garbed in modernity."

The nature of Peer, remarks Mr. Corbin, is
twofold. "He is the incarnation of irresponsi-
ble self-will and grotesque, indomitable fan-
tasy. It is, moreover, curiously and intimately
in harmony with one of the most salient phases
in the actor's own character," Mr. Corbin
adds:

"Vain braggart and faithless lover always, Peer
is always keenly interesting, irresistibly lovable,
and not without pathos. In the boisterous reck-
lessness of youth he is redeemed by the very
fervor of his ambition, the daring leaps of his
imagination. In maturity his refuge is in philos-
ophy. In age he is face to face with eternity — or
the annihilation of the Button Molder. It is the
soul history of Dante, as of all who live fully,
only it is seen in the prismatic lights of Ibsen's
genius for sardonic comedy and philosophic
satire."

In Mansfield's rendering, he concludes, the
comedy blows through the audience like a
breeze. In other words he has proved his his-
trionic supremacy by his masterful and poig-
nant interpretation of Ibsen's hero. Mr. Mans-
field has announced that on reaching "Pier
Fifty," in Mark Twain's picturesque phrase,
he will retire from the stage. "Perhaps," re-
marks Mr. Corbin, "he should have said that
he is to make his first retirement." It so hap-
pens that the year Mr. Mansfield has set him-
self coincides with the year of the opening of
the New Theater in New York, devoted to the
drama as high art and independent of mere
commercial considerations. Mr. Mansfield is in
sympathy with the aims of such a theater, and
was among the first to advocate it. Many
great parts await him still. There are depths
of feeling that his genius has not yet probed.
We should like to see his Benedick, his Malvo-
lio, his Petruchio, and the pathos of King Lear
offers a most alluring problem "to this actor
who has never yet deeply stirred the wells of
the tenderest impulse, while for the scenes of
imperious madness and tempestuous denuncia-
tion he has a physical, and vocal equipment
unsurpassed in any time." The question is
only whether he would consent to subdue him-
self to the necessary discipline of a great and
multifarious institution. Mr. Corbin thinks
he would. Those, he says, who have known
him best in the decade just past have reason
to think he would. "Certainly," he concludes,
"such an institution would be as incomplete
without him as he would be without it."

Science and Discovery

COMPLEXION AS THE BASIS OF UNIVERSAL HISTORY

ECENTLY discovered facts are held
by many scientists to prove that
light, and especially the short rays
of light — radium, X-rays and so
forth, — are invariably death-dealing when
concentrated with sufficient intensity for a
more or less prolonged period. Consequently,
man is pigmented in direct proportion to the
amount of light that will be normally concen-
trated upon him throughout the zone in
which he dwells. The negro, through the
protection afiforded by his skin, dwells in the
shade notwithstanding the heats of the tropi-
cal sun so characteristic of his African en-
vironment. The Eskimo has likewise his ar-
mor of pigment to protect him from the glare
of the snow. In these particulars we get a
glimpse into the newly formulated law that
the complexions of Europeans, for instance,
vary as one goes from northwest to south-
east. This variation is in direct propor-
tion to the mean annual sunshine. Moreover,
in the light of a complexion theory of human
history, it is evident that blond races emigrat-
ing to sunny lands undergo some profound
modification. As a matter of fact, those races
disappear through the death of the blondest.
This circumstance is held fully to explain the
decline and fall of Greek, Egyptian and other
great civilizations of the past. Those in-
truders into the domain of darker peoples,
those Greeks, Egyptians and what not, died
out under the influence of light concentrated
upon inadequately pigmented human beings.
Hence the modern Greeks are not degener-
ates. They are descended from Pelasgians or
from other extraneous stocks. The Greek
of the age of Pericles is extinct. He has left
no descendants. In this country we Ameri-
cans are likewise becoming extinct. In the
course of a few years, relatively, the last of
us will have disappeared by the simple proc-
ess of leaving no posterity at all to continue
the strain. The blondest of us are going
most rapidly the way of the ancient Greeks.
But the new brunets now pouring into the
country are bound to survive because they
are properly pigmented.

It is to that able military sanitarian and
life-long student of the effects of tropical
light on white men. Major Charles E. Wood-

ruff, M.D., of the United States Army, that
modern science is indebted for these luminous
generalizations from the action of ether
waves on protoplasm and from allied phenom-
ena. Dr. Woodruff has contributed much to
overthrow the view that the Aryans origi-
nated in Asia. A complexion theory of univer-
sal history would indicate that they originated
in northern Europe. Of such far-reaching ef-
fects are the results of a scientific study of
pigmentation. It should be noted that the
layer of pigment cells just beneath the outer
skin is present in all normal men, the differ-
ences in color being merely differences in the
amount of the pigment. Hence, as Dr.
Woodruff points out in his work on this sub-
ject,* every race has some protection from
the light, varying with the intensity of the
pigment. There are no unpigmented races.
Lack of all pigment — albinism — is a serious
defect of development due to degeneration. In
a word, the skin pigmentation of man was
evolved, according to Doctor Woodruff, for
the purpose of excluding the dangerous actinic
or short rays of light which destroy living pro-
toplasm.

It is necessary at the outset to clear up
some fundamental but very generally current
misconception regarding light. Thus it is
popularly believed that living plant cells are
dependent upon light. Recent evidence that
living plant cells are so injured by light as
to be compelled to function in the dark comes
as a great shock to contemporary ideas; but
the circumstance is in line with the truth that
light is fatal to nearly all forms of death-pro-
ducing and disease-producing organisms —
bacteria. Now, every plant possesses some
means of escaping or of neutralizing the fatal
effect of too much light on the naked pro-
toplasm. The vast majority of land animals,
again, live in absolute darkness, in the soil,
in cracks of rocks, crevices, trees, caves, bur-
rows and under boulders, some never coming
to the surface at all. Some animals spend the
days hiding from the light and come out only
at night. These are followed by carnivorous
enemies, and there is a night carnival of

•The Effects of Tropical Light on White Men. By
Major Charles E. Woodruff, U. S. A., A.M., M.D.
The Rebman Company.

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

443

feasting which ends at dawn. The dread of
light by all tropical animals is very lemark-
able.

If any animal venture abroad in the day-
time we find that it is provided with opaque
pigment or covering of some sort of which
the opacity is directly in proportion to the
amount of light to be excluded. Indeed, a
day animal exists solely because its opaque
armor keeps out the deadly arrows of light
and the ultra-violet rays. The negro is in
reality a nocturnal animal like the other black
animals of the tropics. In other words, the
pigmentation of animals is a process of evo-
lution, following the law universal through-
out the living world, namely, that environ-
ment modifies the organism and that if the
newly acquired character — in this case ade-
quate pigmentation — is an advantage the or-
ganism crowds out others less fitted to sur-
vive.

Man's protoplasm being the same as that of
other animals and of plants, it follows that
he is under the influence of the same laws as
to light that all other living things are sub-
ject to; that is, he. can do without it in spite
of our fanatical faith in its necessity. Dr.
Arlidge, an English physician, has shown that
miners who spend so much time in the dark,
are healthy and live to a good old age gener-
ally. We must explain in other ways the
anemia and poor condition of prisoners who
are confined in dark dungeons. Insufficient
food, exercise and oxygen are amply suffi-
cient to account for it. It is one of the curi-
osities of medicine that the employees en-
gaged in the Paris sewers, in spite of the
foul gases they breathe and the germs they
encounter, are as healthy as the people who
work in the streets. The darkness, in fact,
has benefited them. Residence in dark houses
is practically harmless. There can scarcely
be hardier races than those now living in
Scotland. Yet their dwellings have always
been small and dark. The early cave-dwel-
lers of Europe carried on the human species
for millenniums in perfect health. The Eski-
mo is practically a cave-dweller now, and
so is the Russian peasant, and so are the peo-
ple of Siberia and millions of city dwellers
also. Not only do yellow Chinamen thrive
best when huddled together in cellars, but
swarthy European races also. In St. Peters-
burg 250,000 people flourish as parasites in
the cellars of the wealthy. The contagious
diseases which flourish among these people
are mostly due to overcrowding, and are al-
ways found where people are crowded to

THE DISCOVERER OF A NEW BASIS FOR
UNIVERSAL HISTORY

Major Charles E. Woodruff, Surgeon U. S. Army,
who is a high authority on the effects of tropical light
on white men, thinks the brunet type of human being
is more fitted to survive than the blond type, so far as
this country is_ concerned. Behind this theory is a.
series of facts indicating that history has been condi-
tioned by complexion to an astonishing extent.

the same extent into lighted rooms above
ground.

At the present time the homes of the poorer
Irish peasantry are described as little better
than caves in the hillsides, differing in minor
degree only from the ancient homes of the
cave man.. Nevertheless, if he is not starved,
the Irish peasant, in spite of his lack of light
— the cloudiness of Ireland is very great — is
a type of high physical vigor, and is the in-
strument by which the blonder British rule so
many portions of the globe. Our own Amer-
ican progenitors on this continent, from New
England to the far West, were practically
cave-dwellers in their hardy stage. The peo-
ple within the Mediterranean zone live in
dark, cave-like houses, especially designed to
keep out the light. It is in accordance with
natural laws that their babies must be care-
fully hidden away in these dark cells, just
like the young grubs of bees and wasps and
other living forms. We moderns of the in-
telligent classes alone violate the mother's
sound instinct to hide away in the dark with
her baby. We Americans ruthlessly thrust
our babies out into the light. Who can esti-

444

CURRENT LITERATURE

mate the profound physical deterioration con-
sequent upon the parading of generation after
generation of American babies into the Hght
of day! We Americans, too, are the only
modern people who have gone daft with the
delusion that streams of light should be per-
mitted to flood nurseries, schoolrooms and
workshops.

Light, in short, is a tonic to be taken in
doses. Too much of the stimulant is fatal.
Primitive man realized this as do the modern
ants. The first men were undoubtedly bru-
net, tho not as brunet as are the existing an-
thropoid apes. The brunetness of man is
still occasionally retained as a vestigial char-
acter even until some months after birth. It
is the commonest occurrence to find that
babies when born have black hair which sub-
sequently becomes flaxen. We can safely
deny that the first men were black, for that
would imply a tropical and light climate
which, from other reasons, could not have
been the place of man's evolution. That
process required a cold, severe environment
which killed off all except the most intelli-
gent in every generation, as a rule, and thus
caused an evolution of the large human brain.
Hence the first men inhabited cold, light
countries, such as could have existed in cen-
tral Europe and central Asia. For blondness
to develop, in view of what recent scientific
discoveries have shown regarding ultra-violet
and other rays, a dark country is needed.
There is a factor of the environment in moun-
tainous and infertile regions which operates
to increase the proportions of blond traits
among men. This factor is the lessened light
in the cold mountain forests. The blond type
further requires for its evolution a dark,
cold, severe climate, such as was furnished
by the forests which sprang up in the north
after the recession of the prehistoric ice.
From the original home the blond has spread
like waves all over Europe, submerging all
brunet types wherever he went. But the
blond groups which moved southward be-
came darkened by survival of the fittest as
the only means of adjustment of the factor
of pigmentation to the factor of increased
light. The factor of pigmentation is related
to mental aptitude, according to Havelock
Ellis. The blond is the aristocrat, the ruler;
but he disappears. Ellis, says Major Wood-
ruff, might have gone further by pointing out
the fact that the submissiveness to authority
of the dark races is one reason for the evolu-
tion of that type of Christianity found in the
Roman and Greek churches.

These are repugnant to the free and con-
tentious blond Aryan. Consequently the Bal-
tic type of man is a Protestant. It has long
been known that the districts of central Europe
are Catholic or Protestant, according as they
are inhabited by one or the other of the pig-
mented types. Hence we see why there is
now, as there always has been, a great defec-
tion from the Catholic Church in the north.
Freeman, in speaking of the resistance of
Constantinople to the advance of Moham-
medanism, and Gibbon, in speaking of the
check which Charles Martel gave to the
Moors at Poitiers, are both inclined to specu-
late on the probability that Mohammedanism
might have spread all over Europe and the
Koran been taught at Oxford. They need
not have worried, because these southern bru-
net religions could never have been adopted
by the blond. The upper classes, who are
mostly blond, were apparently responsible for
the reformation. The brunet medieval peas-
ant probably cared as little about the matter
as he does to-day. The rule is not that all
blonds are Protestants and all brunets Cath-
olics, but the tendency is that way, or rather
the preponderance is in that direction. The
climate of the United States, being suitable
to the brunet types of Europe, is highly favor-
able to the growth of Roman Catholicism.
In one respect we are reversing the experi-
ence of ancient Greece, where the blonds
were the invaders. To-day the pigmentation
factor is on the side of the brunet, winning
the United States to the spiritual supremacy
of the Roman pontiffs. Nor are there lacking
facts in support of the view that the struggle
between Protestantism and Catholicism has al-
ways been conditioned by the complexion factor.

The climate of ancient Greece was about
seven hundred years in destroying its
blonds. The decadence of the Greeks was
well advanced, from the point of view of pig-
mentation, in the golden age of Pericles. It
is possible for such blond neurotics to pos-
sess great literary, artistic and musical capac-
ity, as at the present day in the United
States and England, and the decadence of the
Greeks was Uie cause of their fine art. The
masterpieces of Greek sculpture faithfully
copy the stigmata of degeneration entailed
by inadequate pigmentation. A famous head
of Juno shows arrested development of the
lower jaw unerringly reproduced. The big,
savage blond, again, built up the might of an-
cient Rome until the light told upon his pig-
mentation, complexions changed and the mis-
tress of the world was humbled in the dust.

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

445

THE REAL NATURE OF WOMAN'S INFERIORITY TO MAN

^HAT the intellect of woman is of a
low grade and essentially unim-
provable is an assertion that has
been very generally attributed to
Professor W. I. Thomas, of the University of
Chicago. But this eminent American thinker
shows in the entire line of reasoning upon
which he bases his new work that the failure
of modern woman to participate more fully
in intellectual and occupational activities is
due to artificial social and environmental con-
ditions. These conditions are thought by
Professor Thomas to be superficial in their
character. He points out that the differences
in mental expression between men and women
are no greater than should be expected in
view of the existing differences in their in-
terests and opportunities. The real nature of
woman's inferiority to man is best appre-
ciated from the fact that she is excluded from
his world of practical and scientific activity,
or, to be more correct, she does not fully
participate in it. Perhaps the accident is due
to those organic differences in the sexes
which render the form of woman rounder
and less variable than that of man. It is high-
ly significant that art has been able to pro-
duce a more nearly ideal figure of woman
than of man.

The bones of woman weigh less with refer-
ence to body weight than the bones of man.
These two facts indicate less variation and
more constitutional passivity in woman. The
trunk of woman is slightly longer than that
of man. Her abdomen is relatively more
prominent and is so represented in art. In
these respects woman resembles the child and
the lower races — the less developed forms.
High authorities state that the typical adult
male form is characterized by a relatively
shorter trunk, relatively longer arms, legs,
hands and feet, and, in comparison with the
long upper arms and thighs, by still longer
forearms and lower legs, and, in comparison
with the whole upper extremity, by a still
longer lower extremity. The typical female
form approaches the infantile condition in
having a relatively longer trunk, shorter
arms, legs, hands and feet; relatively to short
upper arms still shorter forearms and rela-
tively to short thighs still shorter lower legs,
and relatively to the whole short upper ex-
tremity a still shorter lower extremity — a
very striking evidence, observes Professor
Thomas, of the ineptitude of woman for the

expenditure of physiological energy through
motor action.*

The strength of woman, on the other hand,
her capacity for motion, and her mechanical
aptitude are far inferior to that of man.
Statistics are overwhelming on this point.
But men are more "unstable" than women,
this instability expressing itself in the two
extremes of genius and idiocy. Genius in gen-
eral is associated with an excessive develop-
ment in brain growth, stopping dangerously
near the line of over-development and in-
sanity. Little-headedness is a step in the
opposite direction, in which idiocy results from
arrested development of the brain. Both
these variations occur more frequently in
men than in women. Statistics of insanity
show that in idiots there is almost always a
majority of males, in the insane a majority
of females. But the majority of male idiots
is so much greater than the majority of female
insane that when idiots and insane are classed
together there remains a majority of males.
Insanity is, however, more frequently in-
duced by external conditions and less depend-
ent on imperfect or arrested cerebral devel-
opment. In insanity the chances of recovery
of the female are greater than those of the
male, and mortality is higher among insane
men than among insane women. The male
sex is more liable than is the female to gross
lesions of the nervous system — a fact attrib-
uted to the greater variability of the male.
Celibacy undoubtedly impresses the character
of women more deeply than that of man.

A very noticeable expression of the ana-
bolism (assimilative process) of woman is
her tendency to put on fat. The distinctive
beauty of the female form is due to the stor-
ing of adipose tissue, and the form of even
very slender women is gracefully rounded in
comparison with that of man. The lung
capacity of woman is less than that of man.
She consumes less oxygen and produces less
carbonic acid than a man of equal weight,
altho the number of respirations is slightly
higher than in man. On this account women
suffer deprivation of air more easily than do
men. They are not so easily suffocated and
are reported to endure charcoal fumes better
and live in high altitudes where men can not
endure the deprivation of oxygen. The num-
ber of deaths from chloroform is reckoned as

*Sex and Society. By William I. Thomas. University
of Chicago Pr^^f,

A DISTINGUISHED GEXERALIZER ON THE SUBJECT OF WOMAN
Professor William I. Thomas, of the University of Chicago, after many years' careful study reaches the con-
clusion that the real nature of. woman's inferiority to man can be traced to factors potept m the period wneii %t\?
human female was the only tamer of animals — including roan.

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

44;

from two to four times as great in males as
in females. Children also bear chloroform
well. Women, like children, require more
sleep normally than men, yet it is said by
competent physicians that they can better
bear the loss of sleep. Loss of sleep is a
strain which, almost invariably, women are
able to meet because of their anabolic sur-
plus. The fact that women undertake
changes more reluctantly than men, but ad-
just themselves to changed fortunes more
readily is due to the same difference. Man
has, in fact, become bodily a more specialized
animal than woman and feels more keenly
any disturbance of normal conditions, while
he has not the same physiological surplus as
woman with which to meet the disturbance.
Woman is more capable of enduring terrible
wounds of body than man. She offers in
general a greater resistance to disease. She
commits suicide much less. In a word, she is
physically fitted for endurance. Man is pe-
culiarly adapted to movement. To quote:

"One of the most important facts which stand
out in a comparison of the physical traits of
men and women is that man is a more special-
ized instrument for motion, quicker on his feet,
with a longer reach and fitted for bursts of
energy; while woman has a greater fund of
stored energy and is consequently more fitted
for endurance. The development of intelligence
and motion has gone along side by side in all
animal forms. Through motion chances and ex-
periences are multiplied, the whole equilibrium
characterizing the stationary form is upset and
the organs of sense and the intelligence are de-
veloped to take note of and manipulate the out-
side world. Amid the recurrent dangers inci-
dent to a world peopled with moving and pre-
dacious forms, two attitudes may be assumed —
that of fighting and that of fleeing or hiding.
As between the two, concealment and evasion
became more characteristic of the female, espe-
cially among mammals, where the young are
particularly helpless and need protection for a
long period. She remained, therefore, more sta-
tionary and at the same time acquired more
cunning than the male.

"In mankind especially the fact that woman
had to rely on cunning and the protection of
man rather than on swift motion, while man had a
freer range of motion and adopted a fighting
technique, was the starting point of a differen-
tiation in the habits and interests which had a
profound effect on the consciousness of each.
Man's most immediate, most fascinating and
most remunerative occupation was the pursuit
of animal life. The pursuit of this stimulated
him to the invention of devices for killing and
capture ; and this aptitude for invention was
later extended to the invention of tools and of
mechanical devices in general and finally devel-
oped into a settled habit of scientific interest. The
scientific imagination which characterizes man
in contrast with woman is not a distinctive male
trait, but represents a constructive habit of at-
tention associated with freer movement and the

pursuit of evasive animal forms. The problem
of control was more difficult, and the means of
securing it became more indirect, mediated, re-
flective and inventive — that is, more intelligent.

"Woman's activities, on the other hand, were
largely limited to plant life, to her children,
and to manufacture, and the stimulation to
mental life and invention in connection with
these was not so powerful as in the case of
man. Her inventions were largely processes of
manufacture connected with her handling of the
by-products of the chase. So simple a matter,
therefore, as relatively unrestricted motion on
the part of man and relatively restricted motion
on the part of woman determined the occupa-
tions of each, and these occupations in turn cre-
ated the characteristic mental life of each. In man
this was constructive, answering to his varied ex-
perience and the need of controlling a moving en-
vironment; and in woman it was conservative,
answering to her more stationary condition.

"In early times man's superior physical force, the
wider range of his experience, his mechanical in-
ventions in connection with hunting and fighting,
and his combination under leadership with his
comrades to carry out their common enterprises,
resulted in a contempt for the weakness of woman
and an almost complete separation in interest be-
tween himself and the women of the group. . . .

"Men and women still form two distinct
classes and are not in free communication with
each other. Not only are women unable and
unwilling to be communicated with directly, un-
conventionally and truly on many subjects,
but men are unwilling to talk to them. I do not
have in mind situations involving questions of
propriety or delicacy alone ; but a certain habit
of restraint, originating doubtless in matters re-
lating to sex, extends to all intercourse with
women, with the result that they are not really
admitted to the inellectual world of men; and
there is not only a reluctance on the part of men
to admit them but a reluctance — or rather a real
inability — on their part to enter."

To what extent woman may in time eman-
cipate herself from conditions now responsible
for her inferiority to man, Professor Thomas
does not say. He deems it quite possible that
woman, as our industrial evolution proceeds,
may become what she was to prehistoric man,
that is, the central point of the social system.
It must never be forgotten, according to Pro-
fessor Thomas, that woman is the biological
type intended by nature to be dominant. Na-
ture, having meant woman to be supreme — in
comparison with man — changed her mind at
the last moment. The real nature of woman's
inferiority to man is, in a sense, accidental.
There is absolutely nothing in the feminine
organism consistent with the theory that
woman was intended to be man's inferior in-
tellectually, morally, or indeed physically. The
history of prehistoric man indicates that the
big, strong woman of to-day corresponds more
closely with original woman as Nature planned
her. It may be that the big type of woman-
hood is destined to dominance in the future.

448

CURRENT LITERATURE

DUPLICATION OF PICTURES BY TELEGRAPH

HERE is to be installed in Berlin
this spring and in some other im-
portant city at a considerable dis-
tance off a newly invented appa-
ratus demonstrating on an actual working
scale that photographs can be reproduced

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DUPLICATE PICTURE TRANSMITTED MANY
MILES FROM THE ORIGINAL

This is a representation of the German Crown
Prince. It was transmitted electrically by Professor
Korn's new process. The duplicate was "wired" to
Hamburg from Berlin.

telegraphically. The feat is of the electrical
mechanical kind. It is made possible by a
property of the metal selenium which can
"translate" variations of light into corre-
sponding variations of an electric current. The
success of the device is due to the ingenuity
of Professor Korn of Munich.

Just as the diaphragm of a telephone causes
the mechanical vibrations of sound to be re-
produced in corresponding electric vibrations,
so the action of variable light upon a plate
of selenium, through which a current of elec-
tricity is passing, will cause that current to
vary in exact accordance with the gradation
of the light modified by a photographic film.
The apparatus will be best understood, how-
ever, from the diagram. It is borrowed, like
this exposition, from The Scientific American.

As with the telegraph and telephone, there
is at one end a transmitter, at the other end
a receiver. In its simplest form the transmit-
ter consists of an outer metallic cylinder and
an inner cylinder of glass on which is fixed
the photographic film to be transmitted. The
inner cylinder is made to revolve, and as it
does so it passes an aperture in the metal
cylinder through which comes a focussed
beam from a so-called Nernst lamp. This
beam passes through the photographic film
and thence to a prism from which it is de-
flected to a plaque of selenium in the electric
circuit. The variations of the revolving
image are thus made to play upon the
selenium, and are reproduced in the electric
wave passing through the selenium.

The receiver consists primarily of a camera
in which is another revolving cylinder carry-
ing a sensitive film which is to receive the
image. Through an aperture in the end of
the camera comes another beam from a
Nernst lamp which has previously been fo-
cussed upon a Geissler tube. The tube (G in
the diagram) is in the electric circuit. The
variations in the current are thus translated
or rather retranslated into variations of light
which, playing upon the sensitive film, set up
the second image.

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A MECHANISM THAT TRANSMITS PICTURES BY TELEGRAPH

It is soon to be installed in Berlin. It is confidently predicted that photographs can be duplicated a thousand
miles off in all directions by an operator with an original before him.

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

449

A PHYSIOLOGIST'S PROTEST AGAINST TOTAL
ABSTINENCE FROM ALCOHOL

LCOHOL, up to a certain point, is
an old acquaintance of the bodily
cells even of those persons who
from their birth have lived an ab-
stinent life. For the living organism to come
into contact with alcohol it is not at all
necessary that the latter be made artificially
and then ingested. The cells of plants, of
animals and also of man already know alco-
hol, since it is formed in almost every or-
ganism when it is not artificially furnished to
it. Such is the preliminary fact upon which
that eminent German physiologist, Dr. J.
Starke, bases his vindication of alcoholic
drinks as beverages. Dr. Starke is an able
German physician who has long specialized
in dietetics.

Alcohol nourishes. Dr. Starke is con-
vinced of that after years of patient investi-
gation. The alcohol ingested — which affects
digestion favorably, he says, so far as it af-
fects it at all — is easily and rapidly absorbed
from the stomach and incorporated with the
juices of the body and in the latter, except
for a little loss, it serves as nutrient material.
Alcohol exerts likewise a specific action on
the nervous system. So Dr. Starke says, at
any rate. Up to the time that the ingested
alcohol performs its part as nutrient material,
there is a period during which it circulates
in the blood as yet undecomposed alcohol and
may act specifically on the organs. The
duration and intensity of this specific action
of alcohol depend on the amount ingested
and on the needs of the system for nourish-
ment. The smaller the former and the
greater the latter — greater with increased
muscular activity and with diminished inges-
tion of other nutriment — the less are the dura-
tion and intensity of the specific effects of
alcohol. On the whole, these specific effects
of alcohol are exerted on the nervous system,

either on the terminal apparatuses of the
nerves or on the central nervous system. The
nerve trunks are not essentially affected,
neither are the blood vessels directly. With
the latter, as with the heart, the effect is
either on the vasomotor nerves or on those of
the heart; or else, in the case of the heart,
this muscle, like any other, makes use of the
alcohol as a nutrient material in the perform-
ance of its work. On the whole, insists Dr.
Starke, alcohol is a nutrient and a nervine,
exerting at the same time a nutritive and a
specific action.

Alcohol stimulates the terminal apparatus
of the nerves and of the bodily organs. It is
the same with the nerves of sensation — for
example, those of taste and smell — and those
of the secretory nerves in the glands. Thus
it happens that we smell of alcohol and taste
it and that it is excreted by glands (in the
salivary and gastric secretion, etc.). It stim-
ulates many of the glandular nerves through
the medium of the central nervous system,
but probably many of them also directly. A
further epitome of Dr. Starke's remaining
conclusions runs:*

"Alcohol, taken in moderation, does not act as
a poison to the central nervous system, for there
is lacking every characteristic symptom of such
an action.

"The action consists in functional changes,
which lie within the range of quite normal play,
and not in disturbances.

"This continues to be the case even when al-
cohol is taken regularly for years in succession.

"No disturbances occur if the use of alcohol is
suddenly discontinued after it has been kept up
for years.

"The action of the regular moderate use of
alcohol upon the central nervous system consists
in a certain inner mental stimulation, in stimula-
tion of our peculiar, personal, intimate ego with
all its qualities (temperament, feelings, talents

^Alcohol: the Sanction for Its Use. By Dr. J.
Starke. G. P. Putnam's Sons.

Courtesy of The Ladies* Home Journa^

Spruce Beer Lager Beer Malt Extracts Claret Champagne "Patent Medicines" Whisky

THESE OUTLINES REPRESENT AN ORDINARY GOBLET. THE DARK SHADING SHOWS THE
AMOUNT OF ALCOHOL CONTAINED IN EACH KIND OF BEVERAGE

4SO

CURRENT LITERATURE

and intellectual aptitudes). The result depends
solely on the qualities of the ego stimulated.

"This stimulation is necessarily connected with
a certain physiological consequence, some reduc-
tion of the reflex excitability, and according to
the degree of stimulation and the character of
the individual there is also a lessening of the
susceptibility to external mental impressions or
to certain aspects of the external world, there-
fore only to certain external impressions.

"The reason of the reduction of these impressi-
bilities lies not in any sort of analysis, but in the
fact that the central nervous apparatuses are
forced to act in a certain direction by the stim-
ulation of the ego, and in the fact that, in con-
sequence thereof, and in consonance with a funda-
mental physiological law, those organs are no
longer susceptible to impressions coming from
without.

"With all this the consciousness is quite clear
and there is no narcosis. At the same time the
respiratory center is stimulated as well as the .
general vasomotor nerve center, and the latter
indeed in the special sense that the cutaneous
vessels are dilated and the internal vessels con-
tracted.

"Practically expressed: We feel ourselves in-
ternally stimulated; this stimulation holds our
nervous irritability — very unpleasant when
aroused — within due bounds. It therefore pro-
vides for that alternation of perception, feeling,
and thought, which is not only agreeable but some-
times directly necessary to the individual con-
cerned. In this condition we breathe freely and
deep, the skin is pleasantly warm, our internal
organs are grateful for the freedom from too
much blood, digestion is unimpeded and the heart
beats full and strong."

Alcohol, moreover, is not one of the poi-
sons. It is rather a substance which, taken in
moderation, nourishes and exerts special
effects on the nervous system, effects that
are not even disturbances and therefore not
phenomena of poisoning:.

All this and all that follows are, of course,
the conclusions of Dr. Starke himself. It is
quite unnecessary to assure the well informed
reader that they are vehemently disputed by
all advocates of temperance. Those advocates
would be especially amazed by Dr. Starke's
assertion that moderate drinking of alcoholic
beverages has not the effect of alluring man
to ever increasing consumption. Where the
latter seems to be the case, he says, there is
something pertaining to the man himself,
something within him or in his circum-
stances that rules the unfortunate and leads
him to use alcohol as a means to an end.
The alcohol of alcoholic drinks does not in
itself possess the property of leading a person
to drink constantly more and more. More-
over, it is very easy to keep the consumption
of alcohol within due bounds. A man learns
well enough as a rule the quantity of alcohol
that he can take without harm.

The causes of excessive drinking are, first,
mental abnormalities, and, second, the asso-
ciation of misfortune with weakness of char-
acter in the person affected:

"Both these primary causes lead the person to
seek for stupefaction oftener than is good for
him, and in direct consequence of the tormenting
feelings with which they are accompanied. The
yearning for stupefaction is the secondary cause
which leads to the use of alcohol as a generally
accessible means to the end. He who drinks
alcohol for the sake of stupefaction (to be sharply
distinguished from him who drinks it for the sake
of stimulation) is impelled on physiological
grounds to take constantly increasing doses, he
is of natural necessity on the road to sottishness,
that is, to the continuous immoderate use of al-
cohol.

"In fairness, then, we must deduct from a given
number of drinkers those who were in themselves
mentally abnormal before, also those whose char-
acter is so weak as to be unable to stand up
against the misfortunes and obstacles of their
surroundings. There remain those who become
topers by the voluntary use of alcoholic drinks.
And from this remainder we should except those
who use alcoholic drinks containing fusel oil, thus
leaving a second residuum of those actually made
topers by alcohol. ...

"It is to assuage the persistent feeling of mis-
ery, then, that many a mentally defective or un-
fortunate person drinks, and for that purpose it
is not 'alcohol' that he uses, but 'alcoholic drinks.'
As a rule he is not content with drinks of which
alcohol is the sole active principle, but after a
while he generally craves those that contain fusel
oil in addition to alcohol, like many distilled
spirits. The distribution of drunkenness in Ger-
many shows that wherever common spirit is the
customary drink it plays a greater part than
where, for example, beer takes its place. And in
foreign countries districts and social strata
known for drunkenness are those characterized
by the notorious use of spirits containing fusel
oil, yea, even in better circles whoever drinks
alcohol for the sake of stupefaction takes such
spirits in course of time. Naturally he does not
own up to it, for he knows the dram drinker's
bad name ; but he does it. Hence there arises
the question of whether drunkenness is not in
great measure to be attributed to the fusel oil
rather than to the alcohol.

"That is possible, for we now know by scien-
tific investigations (which, unfortunately, are still
too seldom resorted to) that in general and in
particular the action of fusel oil is quite extra-
ordinarily more intense than that of alcohol. We
know that fusel oil acts from ten to a thousand
times as intensely, according to the organ ex-
amined. I have made my own chemical experi-
ments, and I must say that only he who has not
dealt with them can underrate the significance of
these constituents. It does not invalidate this
position to say that fusel oil is present in only a
small amount. In addition to the question of
auantity there is that of the degree of activity,
and that is very great in some of the fusel con-
stituents."

To summarize briefly what Dr. Starke pro-
fesses to have found out regarding the taking
up of a "medium" amount of alcohol: That

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

451

amount of alcohol which, if it influences di-
gestion at all, affects it favorably, is absorbed
easily by the body and used as a nutrient with
the exception of a small loss. It performs
the same function as is accomplished by the
carbohydrates. That is, it produces heat, as
they do, and is a source of strength for the
labor of the muscles. Dr. Starke arrives at
his conclusions by following step by step the
route taken by alcohol when a human being
drinks it. The alcohol is taken into the
mouth, it is swallowed and it reaches the
stomach, from which it is taken up by the
juices, which carry it through the body.

Alcohol therefore passes through the so-
called organs of digestion, wherefore the first
question is: Does it influence digestion and
the digestive organs and in what way? Dr.
Starke answers the first part of the question
in the affirmative and says that the influence
is beneficial if the amount of alcohol be mod-
erate. Alcohol favors the secretion of saliva
and the gastric juice. This secretion, larger
than usual, consists of a good, normal, well-
digested juice.

But alcohol does not influence intestinal
digestion or the absorption of food from the
intestines by the juices of the body. They
act as if no alcohol had been taken. The al-
cohol swallowed is absorbed by the juices in
the stomach (this is not the case with water,
which the stomach hardly absorbs). There
is therefore hardly any alcohol left in the
nutrient material which reaches the intes-
tines. Where there is no alcohol it can have
no influence. Therefore alcohol can have no
influence on digestion below the stomach.
All this is established, says Dr. Starke, by
experiment.

Absorbed from the stomach in the juices
the substance is carried through the entire
body. The largest proportion is turned to ac-
count in the organs of the body with the help
of oxygen and used as a nutrient, a small
part is excreted by other parts of the body,
especially by the lungs. This fact is often
used against alcohol because many allege that
the body endeavors to throw off substances
which it recognizes as harmful. Is this such
a throwing off by the organism? Dr. Starke
replies that it certainly is not:

"In reality there is no such 'effort to throw off'
in the body. The body excretes not only poison-
ous, but also innocent substances which have
been introduced and also very often carefully
accumulates pronounced poisons. The exclusion
of a substance by the body is no proof of the
poisonous properties of that substance. Other-
wise cane, beet, or milk sugar would seem to be

much stronger poisons than alcohol, as they are
excreted by the kidneys when injected hypo-
dermically. The same is to be said of water and
common salt. We can now investigate the ques-
tion of why only a small part of the alcohol is
excreted. I think the reasons are very plain.

"Quite a time passes before the alcohol circu-
lating with the blood through the body is taken
up by the organs. If, now, this volatile, easily
vaporizable substance passes with the blood
through organs which are in intimate connection
with the external air, such as the surface of the
alveoli of the lungs, it is only natural that some
of it should be vaporized. In such a manner
alcohol escapes with the exhaled air.

"It is further natural that alcohol under cer-
tain circumstances should be excreted by the kid-
neys. Much blood serum and other ingredients
of the blood are excreted, and it is not to be
wondered at if a part of the alcohol escapes with
it. It is not much. The greatest amount is lost
by the lungs. It is a small fraction of the alcohol
ingested, never so much that it could be discerned
by smell in the air exhaled from the lungs. The
stuff we sometimes smell consists of other sub-
stances taken in with alcohol and deposited in the
mouth and fauces (fusel oil in whisky, ether in
wine). If pure alcohol is taken, and the mouth
and fauces are well cleansed, there will be no
so-called alcohol aroma of the breath.

"There is, therefore, absolutely no reason to
believe in any defensive action of the body. The
process is very simple. On account of the vola-
tility of the alcohol taken and absorbed, carried
by the blood to all parts of the body, a small part
is lost. The lion's share remains in the body and
is used by it as nourishment."

What, now, does the judicious and regular
use of alcohol produce? A certain psychic
excitation, says Dr. Starke, the excitation of
our personal ego. The result depends entire-
ly upon the quality of the excited ego. The
strength of the excitation depends partly upon
the excitability of the ego in question and
partly upon the quantity of alcohol regularly
used. The necessary physiological sequence
of this excitation is a certain diminution of
the reflex excitability and of the psychic ex-
citability for external influences and for cer-
tain aspects of the outer world — that is, only
for certain external influences depending
upon the degree of the excitation and the
quality of the ego. The reason for this
diminution of the excitability is not to be
found in a kind of paralysis, but in the fact
that the central nervous apparatuses con-
cerned must work in a certain sense on ac-
count of the ego excitation, and are therefore
not accessible to other demands. There is an ab-
solutely clear consciousness and no narcosis.

It has been observed for centuries that al-
cohol augments the self-consciousness, the
sense of power and the courage. Nothing
can stimulate these fine faculties so well as
the excitation of our inner personality, its

452

CURRENT LITERATURE

becoming active. This must increase the self-
consciousness. It is in great part identical
with it. We are thus led directly to Dr.
Starke's conclusion that abstinence from al-
cohol as a beverage entails a great loss upon
the personality:

"He who leads the life of a shepherd in Ar-
cadia may indeed be satisfied with goats' milk.
And still the shepherds drank wine. But what
about him who does not live in Arcadia? What
about him who has to comply with the daily in-
creasing demands of practical life? What would
become of his psychic personality if he did not
possess alcohol ? What would become of the psy-
chic personality of all the many men who during
the daytime cannot act as they would wish, and
must according to their ego? They would often
pine away without alcohol.

Familiarly one says: "The alcohol stirs me
up." The expression describes the effect ex-
actly. Stirred by alcohol, the musician does
not wish to practice exercises, but to com-
pose or to interpret; the painter, not to divide
his canvas into squares, but to realize his in-
spiration in form and color; the writer not
to listen to essays critically, but to develop
his ideas; the scientist not to cut up a piece
of liver into a thousand microscopic parts,
but to follow up his ideas about an object
very interesting to him. In short, when we
are in the proper frame of excitation we ex-
perience the creative impulse.

Alcohol, affirms Dr. Starke, produces just
this frame of excitation :

"It is not that part of our psychic life which is
merely imitative, receptive, or passive that will be
especially excited, but the part which makes us
creative, psychically active beings. Alcohol ex-
cites our creative faculty, of which our personal
psychic ego really consists. We should empha-
size : I am excited by alcohol. Therefore creative
men, the discoverer, the artist, do not allow any-
thing to be said against alcohol. We must not
imagine that alcohol brings entirely new proper-
ties to the brain, to the soul. For example, a
man not gifted with the talent for painting will
not be able to create a masterpiece by the help
of the best brandy. He who has not the natural
gift of painting can do nothing. But if one is
gifted, wine will not seldom assist the talent to
show itself.

"It has been said, for example, that nobody
becomes talented by means of alcohol. That is
right and it is wrong, according to circumstances.
Certainly a man who is not endowed by nature
with an ingenious brain, who is not capable of
psychic excitation, will not become ingenious
through the agency of alcohol. But the man who
is ingenious by nature will indeed show his in-
genuity best after the use of a glass of wine,
and in that way will become ingenious by the
instrumentality of alcohol. The faculty of the
brain to be ingenious is not identical with ac-
tually being ingenious. Neither is a person gifted
with the faculty to paint, a painter. There is a
great difference ! The gift is a valueless asset
until, for example, there has been developed from
the disposition to be a great painter, the state
of actually 'being a threat painter.' This develop-
ment may be repressed, impeded, or accelerated.
This last happens in many as the result of alco-
hol, which produces an exaltation of the endowed
soul, the endowed brain. Then will the man paint
according to his capability."

THE MYSTERY OF RUST

ITHIN recent weeks there has been
something very like a sensation
owing to the alleged discovery of
the cause of rusting in iron and
steel. As one leading English railroad loses
eighteen tons of metal daily from its rails alone
through rust and as a leading American rail-
road estimates its daily loss through the rust-
ing of rails at ninety tons the item is costly.
The whole of a great metal railroad bridge is
painted at great expense at regular intervals
in vain efforts to eliminate rust altogether.
In painting the great Forth Bridge there is an
expenditure of over ten thousand dollars
every year. In our own country special care
is taken to clean all bridge parts before lay-
ing on a coat of paint. The increased use of
iron and steel in modern structures, notes
Science Progress (London), makes it indis-
pensable that an accurate knowledge should
be obtained of the conditions under which th«

metal is converted into a material which re-
sembles the earthy ores from which it was
originally extracted.

The new discovery purports to be that the
cause of rusting is the action of water con-
taining traces of acid on iron in presence of
atmospheric oxygen. To prevent rusting it is
necessary primarily to exclude every trace of
acid. This is generally impracticable. The
alternative is to prevent contact of the iron
with water and the atmosphere by means of
some such protective coating as paint.
Whether, in the case of steel, the internal
structure can be so modified by a suitable and
inexpensive treatment that the metal shall be
nearly rustless is a problem that still remains
open and urgently needs investigation. The
problem in the case of steel has been attacked
with the aid of certain elements, such as
nickel. Certain varieties of steel containing
nickel are said to be almost entirely resistant

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

453

to atmospheric corrosion. But the point is
involved in dispute notwithstanding. Our
authority summarizes thus:

"Primarily the rusting of iron is the result of
acid attack, and the conditions for rusting to oc-
cur must be the same as those known to be deter-
minative of chemical action in general : namely,
the possibility of the existence of an electric cir-
cuit. The interaction of iron with water and
oxygen appears to be impossible in the absence
of an electrolyte, just as the union of hydrogen
and oxygen has been shown by recent experiments
to be also impossible in the absence of impurities.
In the case of iron the presence of a trace of acid.

by rendering the water an electrolyte, fulfils the
conditions requisite for action to occur. In the
case of ordinary atmospheric corrosion the acid
is usually carbonic acid.

"The misapprehension or misconception of this
position has given rise to some discussion on the
subject in the columns of Nature. _ Thus it has
been suggested that whilst carbon dioxide, oxygen
and water are essential for the rusting of pure
iron, the last two alone may be sufficient to cause
the rusting of impure forms of the metal. But
rusting in such cases appears to be due to the pro-
duction of acids owing to the oxidation of im-
purities in the iron, these acids playing the same
part as carbonic acid in the rusting of pure iron."

BALDNESS TRACED TO THE ABSENCE OF UPPER

CHEST BREATHING

RDINARY baldness is considered
the consequence of inadequate
chest breathing, in a recent paper
by Dr. Delos M. Parker, lecturer
at LUe Detroit College of Medicine. The in-
adequate chest breathing allows a poisonous
substance to develop in the lungs. This
poisonous substance circulates in the blood.
The roots of the hair are deprived of their
due nourishment as an indirect result of their
situation over the cranium; but this depriva-
tion is directly entailed by the poison gener-
ated in the upper chest, the circulation of the
consequent poison through the body and the
starvation of the hair roots because the flow
of their normally scanty nourishment is thus
totally checked. Dr. Parker, whose paper
appears in The Medical Record, has studied
this hypothesis of his for years, treating bald-
ness and experimenting on animals.

Inadequate upper chest breathing leaves
residual air undisturbed in the air cavities of
a portion of the lungs. The residual air in
any portion of the lungs that is not made use
of for breathing purposes must necessarily
lie undisturbed in the lung cavities. Now it
is easy enough for the function of respira-
tion to be carried on with the use of the lower
portions only of the lungs, but the function
can not be carried on without the use of the
lower portion of the lungs. The residual air
left in the lungs by inadequate breathing is
warm, and it is saturated with moisture.
Whenever residual air or, what is the same
thing, expired air, is kept chambered in the
presence of warmth and moisture it invari-
ably undergoes change and develops a solu-
ble poison that is capable, when present in
the normal blood, of exerting a disturbance so
far as concerns hair growth.

It might be thought strange that a poison-
ous substance, circulating in the blood, should
limit its destructive action to the hair on the
top of the head. This is explained by Dr.
Parker's statement that the roots of the hair
on top of the head, lying over the hard, glis-
tening and practically bloodless occipito-
frontal aponeurosis, are deprived of the nour-
ishment that the roots of the hair of other
portions of the head and of the face derive
from the soft, blood-saturated muscular tis-
sue with which they are in close relationship.
As a result, the hair roots of the top of the
head are of comparatively low vitality, and
yield readily to the action of the poison.

Observation extending over a period of
many years and applied to thousands of per-
sons affected with common baldness developed,
in Dr. Parker's experience, not a single ex-
ception to the rule that persons affected with
common baldness do not employ upper chest
breathing, and those not afflicted with com-
mon baldness do employ upper chest respira-
tion. Moreover, persons suffering from or-
dinary baldness find a remedy in the practice
of upper chest breathing. After one week
dandruff entirely disappears. The hair begins
to lose its dryness and harshness. In six
weeks new hair begins to make its appear-
ance. It is very fine and first manifests itself
at the edges of the bald spot. Craniums that
had been bald for twenty years have developed
hair after a due amount of upper chest breath-
ing. Of course, the practice must be steady
and uninterrupted or there will ensue a re-
lapse. Experiments on dogs, hens and pig-
eons show that injections of material from
expired air under the blood conditions that
lead to ordinary baldness in man produce loss
of fur or plumage.

Recent Poetry

OTHING in John Davidson's new
book of poems ("Holiday and Other
Poems") is of more interest or shows
more vigor of expression than his
prose essay "On Poetry," in which he discusses
the relative worth of rhyme and blank verse, and,
incidentally, of Great Britain and the United
States. Up to one year ago Mr. Davidson ex-
pected never again to write in rhyme. The present
volume, which is entirely in rhymed verse, is the
result of a new exposition on the subject which
he came across at that time. He still considers
that "the crown of the whole poetical aim of
the world" is English blank verse, "the subtlest,
most powerful and most various organ of utter-
ance articulate faculty has produced." Rhyme
he still considers to be, even at its best, a de-
cadent mode. It is only an ornament; "it is as
rouge on the cheek and belladonna on the eye ;"
and yet it is as necessary to the general verse-
reader as brandy to the brandy-drinker. And
the law of it is this: "the effect of a rhyme in-
creases geometrically in the ratio of its recur-
rence." A certain form of re-echoing rhyme,
in which he experiments in this volume, comes,
he says, from America, being "the exquisite in-
vention of the most original genius in words the
world has known — Edgar Allan Poe." This
form is that in which the same word is made to
rhyme to itself with an entirely new sound by a
change in the preceding phraseology. Poe's
poems Mr. Davidson calls "the decadence of the
literature of Europe, the seed of the literature
of America." America itself, by the way, is "the
decadence of Europe," in which chivalry reap-
pears in the tyrannies of pretty women and the
liberty of divorce, religion becomes a senti-
mental pietism a la Moody and Sankey, and the
"splendid robbers," Clive, Hastings and Rhodes,
'degenerate into "the pickpockets of the trusts."
Mr. Davidson's experiments in rhymed verse
are too obviously mere verbal jugglery. We find
nothing we care to quote but the title poem, and
we are not sure that we understand what that
means, or what the significance of its strange
title may be:

HOLIDAY

By John Davidson

Lithe and listen, gentlemen :
Other knight of sword or pen
Shall not, while the planets shine,
Spend a holiday like mine: —

Fate and I, we played at dice :
Thrice I won and lost the main ;

Thrice I died the death, and thrice
By my will I lived again.

First, a woman broke my heart,

As a careless woman can,
Ere the aureoles depart

From the woman and the man.

Dead of love, I found a tomb

Anywhere : beneath, above.
Worms nor stars transpierced the gloom

Of the sepulcher of love.

Wine-cups were the charnel-lights ;

Festal songs, the funeral dole;
Joyful ladies, gallant knights.

Comrades of my buried soul.

Tired to death of lying dead

In a common sepulcher,
On an Easter morn I sped

Upward where the world's astir.

Soon I gathered wealth and friends;

Donned the livery of the hour;
And atoning diverse ends

Bridged the gulf to place and power.

All the brilliances of Hell

Crushed by me, with honeyed breath
Fawned upon me till I fell,

By pretenders done to death.

Buried in an outland tract,

Long I rotted in the mould,
Tho the virgin ..oodland lacked

Nothing of the age of gold.

Roses spiced the dews and damps

Nightly falling of decay;
Dawn and sunset lit the lamps

Where entombed I deeply lay.

My Companions of the Grave
Were the flowers, the growing grass;

Larks intoned a morning stave ;
Nightingales, a midnight mass.

But at me, effete and dead.

Did my spirit gibe and scoff:
Then the gravecloth from my head,

And my shroud — I shook them off!

Drawing strength and subtle craft

Out of ruin's husk and core,
Through the earth I ran a shaft

Upward to the light once more.

Soon I made me wealth and friends;

Donned the livery of the age ;
And atoning many ends

Reigned as sovereign, priest, and mage.

RECENT POETRY

455

But my pomp and towering state,

Puissance and supreme device
Crumbled on the cast of Fate —

Fate that plays with loaded dice.

I whose arms had harried Hell

Naked faced a heavenly host:
Carved with countless wounds I fell,

Sadly yielding up the ghost.

In a burning moun*-ain thrown

(Titans such a tomb attain),
Many a grisly age had flown

Ere I rose and lived again.

Parched and charred I lay; my cries
Shook and rent the mountain-side;

Lusters, decades, centuries
Fled while daily there I died.

But my essence and intent

Ripened in the smelting fire:
Flame became my element;

Agony my soul's desire.

Twenty centuries of pain,

Migrhtier than Love or Art,
Woke the meaning in my brain

And the purpose of my heart.

Straightway then aloft I swam
Through the mountain's sulphurous sty:

Not eternal death could damn
Such a hardy soul as I.

From the mountain's burning crest

Like a god I come again.
And with an immortal zest

Challenge Fate to throw the main.

Notable for its de^.th of feeh-g and its elo-
quence of expression is the following fine poem
in the North American Review, by Mrs. Sill, one
of the editorial staff of Harper's Magazine. Mrs.
Sill's verse has for the most part dealt with the
lighter things of life — moods and nuances and
fancies; but every once in a while she sounds a
deep full note that has the ring of true greatness
in it:

THE HOOF-BEATS OF THE YEARS

By Louise Morgan Sill

I feel on my bosom
The hoof-beats of the years —
They trample me down.
I raise bruised arms against them,
But in vain. They trample me down.

I hear everywhere the clamor of life.

The groanings of effort rolling the stones up-hill.

The clang of the hammer, the burst

Of steam, the grinding of wheels, the blast

Of truculent whistles, and booming of bells.

And strident chorus of languages everywhere

In the Babel of labor; and under it all

The tiny voices of those, the Giants of toil,

The Achievers, whose sound is so fine.

So ethereal fine, to our ears that we hear not

As they work in a seeming silence profound —

They, the Great Ones, the Kings of all labor,

Beside whose grandeur of work

Our own is as chaff in the wind —

Those artizans of universes, makers of stars and

suns.
The Cell-builders, God's own handmen.
For them is the harmony eternal 1
They feel not the griding of years !

But I — I — the human standing at bay.

Who am not told God's secrets, who learn

And unlearn in sweat and in tears,

I it is who feel the hoof-beats of the years

Trampling out of my bosom

Its very heart — down to the dust.

Yet from this dust I arise,

I arise and go to God,

And ask again my eternal questions;

And though He answers me naught.

Though He leaves me to suffer —

Me, a part of Him —

To suffer alone and apart from Him,

He gives me somehow, somewhere, to know

That, tho the hoof-beats of the years

Beat out my heart from my bosom,

Down, down to the dust.

Yet they cannot kill my soul —

The flamelike, exuberant soul that He made

And sowed with the seed of His Soul —

Nor cut it off forever from Him.

The Longfellow centenary has inevitably pro-
duced a number of poems in honor of the occa-
sion. Nearly all of them indicate a notion that
Longfellow's reputation needs defending and the
general effect is almost that of an apology. The
stanzas by Mr. Aldrich, in The Atlantic Monthly,
are entirely free from this note:

LONGFELLOW

I 807- I 907
By Thomas Bailey Aldrich

Above his grave the grass and snow
Their soft antiphonal strophes write :
Moonrise and daybreak come and go :
Summer by summer on the height
The thrushes find melodious breath.
Here let no vagrant winds that blow
Across the spaces of the night
Whisper of death.

They do not die who leave their thought
Imprinted on some deathless page.

Themselves may pass ; the spell they wrought
Endures on earth from age to age.

And thou, whose voice but yesterday
Fell upon charmed listening ears,
Thou shalt not know the touch of years ;

Thou boldest time and chance at bay.
Thou livest in thy living word
As when its cadence first was heard.

O gracious Poet and benign.
Beloved presence ! now as then
Thou standest by the hearths of men.

Their fireside joys and griefs are thine;
Thou speakest to them of their dead.
They listen and are comforted.

They break the bread and pour the wine

Of life with thee, as in those days
Men saw thee passing on the street
Beneath the elms — O reverend feet

That walk in far celestial ways!

456

CURRENT LITERATURE

A fine double sonnet on another poet appears
in a Southern newspaper — New Orleans Times-
Democrat. The name of the writer is entirely
unknown to us, but there is a finish to her stanzas
that indicates a not unpractised hand:

WORDSWORTH
By Sarah D. Hobart

God touched his eyes, and lo, the young child saw

The common earth with spirit interfused.

Along the genial valleys where he mused
He felt life rounded by a higher law.
The winter's rage, the springtime's fret and thaw,

The storm and torrent, — all the agents used

By Nature in her workings, unabused,
Were heavenly symbols, free from taint or flaw.
He knew the angels of the viewless air.

Strong at their toil along the rock-bound height :
Beside the lake and in the forest bare

He felt their presence in the starry night,
And trusted, fearless, to that fostering care

That speeds the hurrying cloud-field on its
flight.

God touched his soul; anointed, set apart
From all the mad world's clamor and unrest.
He leaned secure on Mother Nature's breast

And felt the throbbing of her human heart.

With patient skill, with consecrated art,
He told of sins and sorrows unconfessed:
The prophecy of human wrongs redressed

He traced in flame above each soulless mart.

Poet and priest, he stands against the age
Of Mammon's greed and passion's overflow,

A marble god, whose sculptured grace recalls
The music of the groves and waterfalls.

Or like bold Skiddaw's self, that lifts its snow

Undaunted 'mid the tempests' wildest rage.

Something over a year ago an obscure Amer-
ican poet suddenly found himself in the limelight
through the warm admiration expressed for his
verses by President Roosevelt. It was really the
President's son, we understand, who "discovered"
Mr. Robinson, and whose declamation of some of
his lines first awakened the President's interest.
The following poem from Scribner's might well
please the author of "The Strenuous Life":

MINIVER CHEEVY
By Edwin Arlington Robinson

Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn.
Grew lean while he assailed the seasons;

He wept that he was ever born.
And he had reasons.

Miniver loved the days of old

When swords were bright and steeds were
prancing ;
The vision of a warrior bold

Would set him dancing.

Miniver sighed for what was not,
And dreamed, and rested from his labors;

He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot,
And Priam's neighbors.

Miniver mourned the ripe renown
That made so many a name so fragrant;

He mourned Romance, now on the town,
And Art, a vagrant.

.!■'■.■.. vu •

Miniver loved the Medici,

Albeit he had never seen one ;
He would have sinned incessantly

Could he have been one.

Miniver cursed the commonplace.
And eyed a khaki suit with loathing;

He missed the medieval grace
Of iron clothing.

Miniver scorned the gold he sought.
But sore annoyed was he without it;

Miniver thought, and thought, and thought,
And thought about it.

Miniver Cheevy, born too late.

Scratched his head and kept on thinking;
Miniver coughed, and called it fate.

And kept on drinking.

The poem that follows seems to us to be phe-
nomenal. It appears in St. Nicholas in a prize
competition among the readers of that magazine,
and was awarded the gold badge. Its author
(whether boy or giii, we do not know) is but
fourteen years of age:

THE LAND OF ROMANCE
By E. Vincent Millay

"Show me the road to Romance 1" I cried, and he

raised his head;
"I know not the road to Romance, child. 'T is a

warm, bright way," he said,
"And I trod it once with one whom I loved, —

with one who is long since dead.
But now — I forget, — Ah ! The way would be long

without that other one,"
And he lifted a thin and trembling hand, to shield

his eyes from the sun.

"Show me the road to Romance !" I cried, but

she did not stir,
And I heard no sound in the low-ceil'ed room

save the spinning-wheel's busy whirr.
Then came a voice from the down-bent head, from

the lips that I could not see,
"Oh ! Why do you seek for Romance ? And why

do you trouble me?
Little care I for your fancies. They will bring

you no good," she said,
"Take the wheel that stands in the corner, and

get you to work, instead."

Then came one with steps so light that I had not
heard their tread.

"I know where the road to Romance is. I will
show it you," she said.

She slipped her tiny hand in mine, and smiled up
into my face.

And lo ! A ray of the setting sun shone full upon
the place,

The little brook danced adown the hill and the
grass sprang up anew,

And tiny flowers peeped forth as fresh as if new-
ly washed with dew.

RECENT POETRY

457

A little breeze came frolicking by, cooling the

heated air,
And the road to Romance stretched on before,

beckoning, bright and fair.
And I knew that just beyond it, in the hush of

the dying day,
The mossy walls and ivied towers of the land of

Romance lay.
The breath of dying lilies haunted the twilight air.
And the sob of a dreaming violin filled the

silence everywhere.

Our departed youth will probably be a theme
for the poets to the end of time, and one that will
always be sung in a minor key. Mrs. Wilcox (in
The Evening Journal, New York) is the latest to
essay it:

THE LOST GARDEN
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

There was a fair, green garden sloping

From the southeast side of the mountain ledge,
And the earliest tint of the dawn came groping

Down through its paths, from the day's dim
edge.
The bluest skies and the reddest roses

Arched and varied its velvet sod ;
And the glad birds sang as the soul supposes

The angels sing on the hills of God.

I wandered there when my veins seemed bursting

With life's rare rapture and keen delight;
And yet in my heart was a constant thirsting

For something over the mountain-height.
I wanted to stand in the blaze of glory

That turned to crimson the peaks of snow,
And the winds from the west all breathed a story

Of realms and regions I longed to know.

I saw on the garden's south side growing

The brightest blossoms that breathe of June;
I saw in the East how the sun was glowing.

And the gold air shook with a wild bird's tune.
I heard the drip of a silver fountain.

And the pulse of a young laugh throbbed with
glee;
But still I looked out over the mountain

Where unnamed wonders awaited me.

I came at last to the western gateway

That led to the path I longed to climb.
But a shadow fell on my spirit straightway,

For close at my side stood graybeard Time.
I paused, with feet that were fain to linger,

Hard by that garden's golden gate ;
But Time spoke, pointing with one stern finger :

"Pass on," he said, "for the day grows late."

And now on the chill, gray cliffs I wander.

The heights recede which I thought to find;
And the light seems dim on the mountain yonder

When I think of the garden I left behind.
Should I stand at last on its summit's splendor,

I know full well it would not repay
For the fair, lost tints of the dawn so tender

That crept up over the edge o' day.

I would go back, but the ways are winding.
If ways there are to that land, in sooth ;

For what man succeeds in ever finding
A path to the garden of his lost youth?

But I think sometimes, when the June stars
glisten.
That a rose-scent drifts from far away;
And I know, when I lean from the cliffs and
listen.
That a young laugh breaks on the air like spray.

The word irrigation does not suggest poetic
rapture, but when you think of it the thing the
word stands for is a noble theme for either the
orator or the poet. A writer in The Atlantic
Monthly has discovered this and made good use
of the discovery :

HYMN OF THE DESERT
By McCready Sykes

Long have I waited their coming, the Men of the
far-lying Mist-Hills
Gathered about their fires and under the kindly
rains.
Not to the blazing sweep of thy Desert, oh Lord,
have they turned them ;
Evermore back to the Mist-Hills, back to the
rain-kissed plains.

Long through the ages I waited the children of
men, but they came not:
Only God's silent centuries holding their watch
sublime.
Gaunt and wrinkled and gray was the withering
face of thy Desert :
All in thine own good time; O Lord, in thine
own good time.

Lo ! thou hast spoken the word, and thy children
come bringing the waters
Loosed from their mountain keep in the thrall
of each sentinel hill.
Lord, thou hast made me young and fair at thine
own waters' healing.
Pleasing and fair to mankind in the flood of
thy bountiful will.
Wherefore in joy now thy children come, flying
exultant and eager;
Now is thine ancient Earth remade by thy
powerful word.
Lord, unto thee be the glory ! Thine is the bloom
of the Desert.
Hasten, oh Men of the Mist-Hills! Welcome,
ye Sons of the Lord !

In a little paper issued once in a while on Staten
Island as the organ of a local improvement so-
ciety, and called The Westerleigh Bulletin, ap-
pears a beautiful and simple little poem by Edwin
Markham. Mr. Markham in his nature poems is
not as well known as he should be.

JOY OF THE MORNING

By Edwin Markham

I hear, you, little bird.
Shouting a-swing above the broken wall.
Shout louder yet; no song can tell it all.
Sing to my soul in the deep still wood ;
'Tis wonderful beyond the wildest word.
I'd tell it, too, if I could.

458

CURRENT LITERATURE

Oft when the white still dawn

Lifted the skies and pushed the hills apart,

I've felt it like a glory in my heart —

The world's mysterious stir;

But had no throat like yours, my bird,

Nor such a listener!

Crowded up into one corner of a page of The
Broadway Magazine and printed in an almost
unreadable type, appeared recently a felicitous
little poem accompanied by a full-page illustra-
tion of very mediocre quality. To our mind, a
pictorial illustration for a poem is, per se, in the
nature of an insult to the poet or the reader, or
both. For a poem is itself a picture by an artist
and to call in another kind of artist to reinforce
it is to accuse the poet of futility or the reader
of incapacity.

THE FACE OF MY FANCY
By Witter Bynner

Give her such beauty of body and mind

As the leaves of an aspen tree,
When they vary from silver to green in the wind,

And who shall be lovely as she? —
Then give her the favor of harking to love

As the heart of a wood to the call of a dove I —
And give her the face of my fancy, as free

As a lark in his heaven! — and give her to me!

The Hungarians have had a poet whose name,
Petofi, has traveled around the world; but Amer-
icans have had little chance to become familiar
with his poetry. In a "History of Hungarian
Literature," recently published by Appletons, the
author, Frederick Reidl, gives us the following
translation of one of Petofi's winsome songs :

A PEASANT SONG

By Sandov Petofi

The cottage door stood open wide,
To light my pipe I stepped inside,
But, oh ! behold, my pipe was lit,
There was indeed a glow in it.

But since my pipe was all aglow.
With other thoughts inside I go —
A gentle winning maiden fair
That I perchance saw sitting there.

Upon her wonted task intent
To stir the fire aflame, she bent;
But oh I dear heart, her eyes so bright
Were radiant with more brilliant light.

She looked at me as in I passed.
Some spell she must have o'er me cast.
My burning pipe went out, but oh !
My sleeping heart was all aglow.

In the population of the United States there
are twenty-five million persons who were born
aliens or whose parents were alien-born. And
still they come from the four quarters of the
globe and by way of all the seven seas. A writer
in Scribner's finds this a sobering sight :

ELLIS ISLAND

By C. a. Price

The Shapes press on, — mask after mask they
wear.

Agape, we watch the never-ending line;
The crown of thought, the cap and bells are there,

And next the monk's hood see the morion shine.

Age on his staff and infancy's slow foot.
These we discern, if all else be disguise;

They fix on us an ahen gaze and mute.
From the mysterious orbit of the eyes.

They come, they come, one treads the other's heel.
And some we laugh and some we weep to see,

And some we fear; but in the throng we feel
The mighty throb of our own destiny.

Outstretched their hands to take whate'er we give.
Honor, dishonor, daily bread or bane;

Not theirs to choose how we may bid them live —
But what we give we shall receive again.

America! charge not thy fate to these;

The power is ours to mold them or to mar.
But Freedom's voice, far down the centuries.

Shall sound our choice from blazing star to
star!

A pleasant little spring poem appears in the
March number of The Broadway Magazine:

MARCH SECRETS
By Edna Kingsley Wallace

There's a secret in the thicket, there's a whisper
in the air,

And a stir of sleepy grasses, and, altho the trees
are bare,

There's a light along their branches, and a thick-
ening of twigs.

And the pussy-willows don their dainty little
periwigs.

All the meadow-pools are twinkling with the

breezes and the sun.
While the wrinkles and the crinkles o'er their

laughing faces run.
Hark! a bull-frog singing gaily at the bottom

of his voice
Is inviting all creation to awaken and rejoice !

From the silence of the woodland comes the
tinkle of the brook.

And a rustle, as of waking, in each sunny, shel-
tered nook;

For the west wind has a message, and the gentle
rain a hint

Of earth-odors, and the presage of new melody
and tint.

There's a secret in the thicket, there's a whisper

in the air;
There's a mystery a-brewing, of which Lilac

seems aware,
And a busy little lady-sparrow hither flies and

yon,
While her mate upon the fence observes, "There's

something going on!"

Recent Fiction and the Critics

JANE CABLE

HE critics do not take George Barr Mc-
Cutcheon very seriously, perhaps be-
cause he does not take himself seriously
and his workmanship is often slovenly.
It may, however, be said for him that as a mere
story teller he has few equals among contempor-
ary American writers. His plots
may be old, but they appear in a
new and charming dress; his
literary tricks may be likewise
outworn and melodramatic, but they grip the
attention and hold it to the end. "This dramatic
quality," remarks Paul Wilstach in the New
York Bookman, "is Mr. George Barr Mc-
Cutpheon's strongest quality. He seems to re-
pudiate mere virtuosity of style, contenting himself
with a vigorous rush of honest colloquialism."
His reward is the swift success of the moment,
his penalty the fact that the gate that separates
journalistic fiction from literature seems to be
forever closed in his face. "George Barr Mc-
Cutcheon's stories," observes The Milwaukee
Sentinel, "have all of the fragile beauty of the
poppy. They are bright, but soulless, and have a
freshness that is perishable. They blossom and
die and are forgotten ; but as the poppy, even with
its frail and delicate loveliness, is its own excuse
for being, so likewise the novels and stories that
come from time to time from the prolific pen of
the author of 'Granstark.' "

"Jane Cable,"* remarks the Philadelphia In-
quirer, is unquestionably McCutcheon's best
novel. "It is no romance of an impossible king-
dom of Europe, there are neither princes nor
princesses, armor, nor intrigues for position. It
is a tale of the Chicago of to-day which the au-
thor knows so well. It is a better story than
those which he has heretofore written, because it
is tangible, and seems possible, if not actual."

The scene sweeps from Chicago to the Philip-
pines, and from there to New York. The plot
is outlined as follows :

"Jane, a sweet and natural girl, was an adopted
daughter unknown to herself and to her father.
An unscrupulous man discovered the secret, and
used it against Mr. Cable for blackmail. The son
of this man is the hero of the story. His father
was a blackguard and, in the same proportion, he
was upright, knowing nothing of the older man's
underhand machinations and graft. Graydon was
a graduate of an eastern college, and he wanted
to do the right for the sake of the right.

"He loved Jane and Jane loved him. They
were engaged to be married when one day the

father of the hero, seeking to humiliate Mrs.
Cable, told the secret of Jane's heritage. There
was no softening of details, and with brutal frank-
ness he blurted out the whole story with a few
additions and withdrawals of his own, before a
reporter of a Chicago daily. The result was that
Jane broke her engagement and left the city.
Soon after Graydon left also.

"He enlisted in the army and saw active service
in the Philippines. One day he was hurt, and
brought into the hospital, where he heard whis-
pers of the beautiful nurse. It was his fate to
fall into the gentle ministering hands of Jane
Cable, who was a nurse in the American hospital
service. For a long time his life was despaired
of, and it seemed as if the author intended mak-
ing an artistic ending of his book by allowing him
to die."

The author, however, being more human than
artistic, brings his book to a happy conclusion.
The young couple are joined in wedlock and live
happily ever afterwards.

The New York Evening Sun remarks that, save
for the romantic preposterousness of the plot,
"Jane Cable" comes near being an attempt at a
novel, and expresses the hope that now that Mc-
Cutcheon has shown his ability to outline charac-
ters that are something more than romantic pup-
pets, he will try his hand at a real novel. An-
other writer felicitously expresses the truth and
the principles for which McCutcheon and his
fiction stand. He says :

"He belongs to the school picturing types of
men and women who do things quite differently
from the mere normal, every-day human beings
who walk this earth in real flesh and blood. In-
dividually, we may differ very widely in our
opinions of Mr. McCutcheon's books; but there
is, certainly one thing very much to his credit,
one thing which goes a long way toward explain-
ing his steady and growing vogue with the public,
and that is that he consistently makes his person-
ages play up to their parts. There is never a
moment when the Young Person who likes thrills
is forced to admit with a sense of disillusion,
'why, these are not real heroes and heroines, but
just ordinary, every-day people, after all !' This
is really no small thing to do, because while the
rewards awaiting those who can do it successfully
are large and many have tried for them, Mr. Mc-
Cutcheon stands upon an enviable height, with
few to keep him company."

It is not often that American reviewers find
fault with a writer of fiction for driving home a
moral truth. Perhaps the moral
THE SECOND in Mr. Graham Phillips' new
GENERATION book* IS a little too obvious. Per-
haps it fails to impress the critics,
who, being more or less literary men, have

*Jank Cable. By George Barr McCutcheon. Dodd, Mead
& Company.

*Thb Skcomd Generation. By Graham Phfllipt. D,
Appleton k Company.

460

CURRENT LITERATURE

in the majority of cases never been weighted
down with "the curse of wealth." "Mr.
Phillips' story," says the New York Even-
ing Post, "is a tract rather than a piece
of pure fiction, and the author is at small pains to
conceal the machinery of his argument" — the argu-
ment being that inherited wealth is an unmitigated
curse. To enforce this unhopeful contention the
"demonstrator"— to use the terminology of the
Post reviewer — "introduces us to a prosperous
manufacturing city of the Middle West, wherein
all who have inherited wealth have gone or are
going to the dogs." To quote further :

"All the younger persons involved in the story
are directly committed to this dread alternative
save two. One of these is shot by an aristocrat, who
has become a drunkard because he has not inherited
money (which would have been a saving fact if
he had not been an aristocrat) ; the other marries
a girl of common blood who has grown up in the
expectation of a great inheritance. This girl's
nature is as phable as that of Oliver in the forest
of Arden. When she is good she is very, very
good, and when she is bad she wastes her desires
upon pretty gowns and the degrading exercise of
social observances. In the end, after much vibra-
tion, she becomes for good and all what her in-
ventor desires her to be. Her brother, whose case
is rendered particularly desperate by an expe-
rience in the best set at Harvard, is similarly
amenable to treatment. Harvard turns him out
a fop and a cad, but Mr. Phillips, by depriving
him of his looked-for inheritance, sets him to
work V, h his hands, and success in making a
man of him. He is promptly jilted by a mercen-
ary sweetheart, and after sufficiently insulting his
father's memory, and throwing away a paltry
legacy of $5,000 in a vain attempt to break the
father's will, he falls in love with a moderately
poor and immoderately honest girl, and becomes
one of nature's noblemen."

The author goes into details at great length.
This, for some, constitutes the chief charm of his
style. But reviewers are busy people, and the
majority of them agree with the New York Out-
look in the view that the book is "too long drawn-
out and somewhat stolid."

The Book News Monthly commends Phillips
for the hopeful view he takes of his theme as
pictured forth in the transformation of the young
dandy, Arthur, into a man when he finds himself
left without the help of his father's fortune. In
a way Mr. Phillips has here foreshadowed the
views of our distinguished English visitor who
advocates the "disinheritance of the unborn."

The San Francisco Chronicle remarks of the
story that it is stronger than "The Plum Tree,"
"The Social Secretary" and "The Deluge" by the
same author. It goes on to say:

"There are many fine minor characters in this
story and much sound comment on American life.
The author's pen is frequently dipped in bitter-
ness, but his philosophy is wholesome and he be-
lieves in the regeneration that must come from

new ideals of wealth and its uses. He develops
a scheme introduced by Arthur Ranger by which
workingmen in the flour mills are given many ot
the privileges of wealth in the way of baths, club-
rooms, restaurants, comfortable homes and ample
leisure. It is an idyllic picture that reminds one
of some of William Morris' romances of the
golden future when socialism shall have solved all
the world's ugly problems and removed the hard
work, the misery and the selfishness that hang
like a dead weight around the neck of the poor
in this world."

The question has at times been raised whether
readers insist on a "happy ending." Mrs. Mary

Wilkins Freeman has evidently
BY THE LIGHT taken the negative side of the
OF THE SOUL debate. In her latest novel,* she

presents a gloomy and depress-
ingly pessimistic picture of a phase of New Eng-
land life. Not that she has lost her skilful powers
of character depiction and her subtle humor.
"But," remarks Ella W. Peattis in The Chicago
Tribune, "her human beings are mere fishes
meshed in an entangling skein of fate, and the
reader is asked to watch their piteous struggle
to be happy." To quote further: "Fatalism is
bad enough when it wears the purple garments
of tragedy. When it dons the faded calcimine
blue of New England degeneracy it ceases to
awe and uplift. On the contrary, it seems to
weigh down the soul and imagination till the
reader feels more like a beached bunch of
rotting seaweed than like a human being.
There are," she continues, "noble examples and
fantastic sacrifices, sacrifices which advance the
world and those which frustrate and confuse, and
render life chaotic. Maria Edgham, the heroine
of Mrs. Freeman's book, chose the latter sort."
The other women in the book are designated by
the same reviewer as "mosquitoes that kill men
by their sting." It is for those that Mary Edgham
makes her numerous sacrifices. A more aggra-
vating case of altruism misplaced has never
been found in life or literature. Miss Peattis
goes on to say:

"Whenever the doors of opportunity opened,
she stepped aside to admit some one else, and the
doors had a trick of swinging to, automatically,
and shutting in her face. To enumerate briefly a
few of her troubles, her good, stern, scolding,
loving mother died just as Maria was leaving her
girlhood behind her. Her father then married
one of the human mosquitoes with the fatal sting,
and he, too, died. Maria was sentimental and
ardent and loved early, and by an extraordinary
and hardly credible circumstance, was forced into
a marriage with a boy, Wollaston Lee, whom she
then fled from, filled with an impulsive detestation
for him. For ten years the blight of that incom-
plete marriage hung over her, and for sheer
timidity she would not have it annulled. Mean-

•By the Light of the Soul. By Mary E. Wilkiin
Freeman. Harper k Brother*.

RECENT FICTION AND THE CRITICS

461

time she truly and deeply loved a youth of good
birth, George Ramsey, but resigned him to an-
other 'mosquito' because of her 'marriage.' Cir-
cumstances at length threw her in the way of her
'husband,' and, as they were beginning to discover
possibilities of reconciliation, Maria found Chat
her beautiful young half-sister had contracted a
violent passion for the man. Consequently, she
disappeared, caused herself to be reported as dead,
and at the conclusion of the story was the com-
fort of a rich and intellectual hunchbacked lady
in New York."

The reviewers agree almost unanimously in
their condemnation of the gloomy aspects of the
book. Claudius Clear, in the British Weekly, pro-
nounces it "not immoral," but "sickly and un-
wholesome." "The whole book," he goes on to
say, "is a study in sentiment. If we are to believe
it, American children are infested with sentimen-
talism almost from the dawn of their being. At
least," he adds, "the heroine of this book and her
friends are inflicted in this way."

"When at school the heroine is in love with a
schoolmate. If Miss Wilkins' description is true,
the results of mixed education in America must
be very bad. Love affairs go on continually be-
tween the pupils. The girls, in particular, appear
to think of nothing else but love. When a hand-
some young professor appears in the college the
young ladies in his class are instantly entranced
with him. They make no secret of their affec-
tions, but avow them from the very beginning."

The Athenaeum likewise finds that Maria's fate
is sadder than it should be and leaves the reader
with a feeling of dissatisfaction. The Independent,
varying one of Heine's witty bon-mots, speaks of
Mrs. Freeman as "having a brilliant future behind
her." It says :

"Mrs. Freemin is still a young woman. In
quite early youth she invented a genre of her own
and wrote two small volumes of short stories as
unexcelled in their own field as are de Maupas-
sant's in his very much larger and more important
sphere. Mr.s. Freeman seems to be one of those
people born vvith a definite gift, entirely sponta-
neous and imtrained, of telling with combined
pathos and humor just what she has seen. Her
short stories are a lasting delight and her novels
an inevitable disappointment. The opening chap-
ters of 'By the Light of the Soul' are descriptive,
full of keen perception and interesting, but the
development of the story is unconvincing, the
morality twisted, and the Enoch Arden-like end-
ing loses all the note of the inevitable which
makes the beauty of the basic poem by the fact
that the immoral and quite tragic situation is
knowingly wrought by the heroine. Tears and
laughter spring from the same wells and the true
humorists have always possessed the gift of call-
ing forth either from the hearts of their readers.
Yet critics seem to deny Mrs. Freeman the gift
of tears."

The only positive touch is added by the New
York Evening Post, which discerns in the some-
what disappointing material a rich note of prom-
ise and an honest attempt to conquer new fields.

Mr. William J. Locke's romantic story* is a de-
lightful feat. It is delightful because it is full of
the breath of springtide and Bo-

THE BELOVED hemianism — in fact, a modern

VAGABOND variation of a Rabelaisian theme,

— and it is a feat because, despite

the unconventionality of his treatment, the author

has succeeded in charming the hearts of the

sternest reviewers.

Mr. Locke is not new to letters. In such leisure
hours as his duties as Secretary to the Royal In-
stitute of British Architects have left him he has
produced no less than ten novels in ten years.
The present story crowns the work of his life-
time.

It is so much better than any of the others, that
Frederick Taber Cooper (in the North American
Review) deems it hardly an exaggeration to say
that Mr. Locke has just begun to write. In his ear-
lier volumes, he remarks, Mr. Locke carefully held
in reserve his most flagrant impossibilities for his
dramatic climax. "In his latest story all unlikeli-
hood of plot belongs to the vague, remote past, it
is a sort of condition precedent upon which the
v/hole structure of the narrative rests, but which is
nowhere deliberately flaunted into your face."
He goes on to say:

"The precise details of a ten-year-old estrange-
ment do not greatly matter. All that we really
need to know is that somewhere in the back-
ground of the life of Mr. Locke's delectable Vaga-
bond there is a Dream Lady, aux petits pieds si
adores; that for her sake he cut himself off from
fame and fortune and love, and voluntarily be-
came a nameless wanderer, a human derelict. Of
the early years of his roving we receive nothing
but a vague impression of strange, bizarre shifts
of fortune ; fugitive, tantalizing glimpses of him,
now in Warsaw, leading a trained bear through
the streets ; now in Prague, comfortably lodged
with a professional burglar; and again in Verona,
learning the trade of coffin-maker, and briskly
driving home the nails, to the inspiring strains of
'Funiculi, Funicula.' But it is not until much
later, not until he adopts a wretched little London
waif, whom he christens Asticot, that we begin to
have a coherent chronicle of the wanderings of
Berzelius Nibbidard Paragot."

Paragot's linen is not above suspicion, his
hands and nails are often in need of the simplest
ministrations of soap and water, and his craving
for the consolation of absinthe has grown upon him
until it is a nightly problem whether he will be
able to find his way unaided to her. Yet, Mr.
Cooper insists, by a sheer tour de force, you are
made to overlook his lapses. We see him always
through the adoring eyes of the two companions
of his wanderings, Asticot, who chronicles his
wanderings, and -Blanquette de Veau, the big.

*The Beloved Vagabond. By William J, Locke. John
Lane Company.

462

CURRENT LITERATURE

ungainly, slow-witted peasant girl who gives him
the dumb devotion of a dog. Experimentally
Paragot returns to immaculate shirt-fronts
and tea only to find himself utterly alienated from
his former life. Even the love of his youth is
no longer identical with the lady of his dreams.
It is much later that we see him, in the words
of the London Saturday Review, "married, re-
formed, sober, a prosperous farmer, waving a
pipe over his geese and his garden." Like that
greater wanderer Faust, he finds salvation in work
and the love of a woman. This is his final phil-
osophy :

"I have found it, my son. It is a woman,
strong and steadfast, who looks into your eyes,
who can help a man to accomplish his destiny.
The destiny of man is to work, and to beget
strong children. And his reward is to have the
light in the wife's eyes and the welcome of a
child's voice as he crosses the threshold of his
house."

"The Beloved Vagabond" is fresh ; it is not ab-
solutely original, because it bears on every page
traces of an attentive study of a multitude of
famous exemplars. The London Spectator says
on this point:

"We are constantly reminded, not only by its
temper, but by direct reference, of Rabelais and
Cervantes ; indeed, the main purpose of the story
is to show how far the spirit of medieval individ-
ualism can be reincarnated in a modern environ-

ment. The lustige Streiche of Till Eulenspiegel,
the divagations of the wandering scholars of the
Middle Ages, and of Goldsmith with his flute
doing the 'grand tour' on foot — all these and
other records of vagabondage, legendary and
actual, have influenced Mr. Locke in the concep-
tion of his hero, and the picaresque recital of his
adventures in the cities and country districts of
France, Italy and Hungary. We are rerninded,
agreeably and without any direct imitation, of
Cyrano de Bergerac and Tartarin de Tarascon;
of the 'New Arabian Nights' and of the romances
of the late Mr. Henry Harland."

Yet, take it all in all, says a writer in The At-
lantic Monthly, there can hardly be two opinions
concerning the book. "Pleasant," he goes on to
say, "pleasant is the word. Fantastic, improbable,
impossible! Granted freely, that and more.
There never could be such a being as Paragot,
there never has been such a small boy as Asticot.
But in 'The Beloved Vagabond' there is a de-
lightful modern revival of the picaresque novel,
an aimless tale of aimless wanderings, wherein
the chance word of wisdom, the meal at a way-
side inn, the sun's warmth of a cool day, and the
grateful shade in summer weather, make up good
and sufficient reasons for being. But if the tale
be in a way fantastic, it also contains good meas-
ure of truth, the inner truth of life tricked out in
the whimsical deeds and utterances of the wan-
dering hero."

The King of Ys and Dahut the Red

This is a posthumous story by "Fiona Macleod," whose identity with the late William Sharp
was not established until death revealed the secret a year and a half ago. Mr. Yeats has recently
advanced the theory that Mr. Sharp furnished a case of dual personality such as physicians occasionally
run across and write interesting books about. Accepting that mystical hint, we might again regard
Fiona Macleod as a personality distinct from that of William Sharp, tho sharing with him the
same physical tenement. It is an eerie sort of idea, but it harmonizes with the eerie tales and
poems with which Fiona Macleod dazzled the world. The story herewith given, taken from
the Pall Mall Magazine, is an excellent specimen of the wildness and charm and mysticism that
are connoted by the word Gaelic. \.^ ^

N the days when Gradlon was Conan
of Arvor, or High-King of the Armori-
can races who peopled Brittany, there
was no name greater than his. From
the sand-dunes of the Jutes and Angles to where
the dark-skinned Basque fishermen caught fish
with nets, the name of Gradlon was a sound for
silence. Arvor was become so great a land that
Franks were called wolves there, and like wolves
were hunted down. The wild cry that survives to
this day in the forests of Dualt and Huelgoet, in
the granite heart of Cornonailles, A'hr bleiz! A'hr
bleiz! was heard often then; but no wolf ever so
dreaded the cry as the haggard Prankish fugitives.
Gradlon, Conan of Arvor, was in the midway
of life when for once he stanched the thirst of his

sword. This was when he went over into the
lands of the Kymry, the elder brothers of his
Armorican race, and there fought with them
against Saxon hordes, till the red tide ebbed.
Thereafter he had gone far northward, till the
Oeban Gaels hated the singing of Breton shafts,
and till the mountain tribes of the Picts paid
tribute.

Thence, at last, he returned. When he came to
his own land, he brought with him two treasures
which he held chief among all treasures he had
won : a black stallion, and a woman white as
cream, with eyes like blue lochs, and with long
great masses of hair red as the bronze-red berry
of the wild ash. The name of the horse was
Morvark; the name of the woman, Malgven.

THE KING OF YS AND DAHUT THE RED

463

When men spoke of the Tameless One they
meant Morvark : and after a time they seldom
said Malgven, but "the Queen," because Gradlon
made her the Terror of Arvor, or "the White
Queen," because of her foam-white beauty, or
the "Red Queen," because of her masses of ruddy
hair, which, when unfastened, was as a stream
of blood falling over a white cliff.

None knew whence Morvark came, nor whence
Malgven. What passed from lip to lip was this:
that the great black tameless stallion was foaled
of no earthly mare, but of some strange and ter-
rible sea-beast. It had come out of the North on
a day of tempest. Amid the screaming of the
gale in the haven where Gradlon and the men of
Arvor were, a more wild, a more savage scream-
ing had been heard. Gradlon went forth alone,
and at dawn was seen riding on a huge black
charger, which neighed with a cry like the cry of
the sea-wind, and whose hoofs trampled the wet
sands with a sound like the clashing of waves.
The hair of Gradlon was streaming out on the
wind like yellow seaweed on a rushing ebb; his
laughter was like the hallala leaping of billows ;
his eyes were wild as falling stars.

It was when far in the Alban northlands that
the Breton King and the Malgven were first seen
together. She was not a conquest of the sword.
The rumor by the fires had it that she was the
queen of a great prince among the Gaels ; that she
was wife to the King of the Picts ; that she was
of the fair, perilous people of Lochlin, who were
even then seizing for their own the Alban iSles
and western lands. But one saying was common
with all : that she was a woman of dark powers.
One and all dreaded her sorceries. Gradlon
laughed at these when she was not by, but swore
that there had never been since the first woman
so great a sorceress over the heart of man.

For many months they were together in Alba,
nor did once Malgven sigh for the place or the
man she had left, nor did ever any herald come to
Gradlon calling upon him to give up the woman.
When she had learned the Armorican tongue she
spoke to some of the Breton chiefs; but she had
eyes for one man only. She loved Gradlon as he
loved her. When they asked her concerning her
people, she looked at them till they were
troubled; then she answered, "I was born of the
Wind and the Sea" : and, troubled more, they
asked no further.

It was when they were upon the sea, off the
Cymric coasts, that the child of Malgven was
born. For three days before that birthing, strange
voices were heard rising from the depths. In the
hollow of following waves the long-dead were
seen. In the moonshine the flying foam was
woven into white robes, wherefrom shining eyes,

calm and august, or filled with communicating
terror, looked upon the trembling seamen.

On the third day white calms prevailed. At
sundown the web of dusk was woven out of the
sea, till it rose in purple darkness and hung from
the Silver Apples, the Great Galley, the Hounds,
the Star of the North, and the Evening Star. At
the rising of the moon a sudden froth r^an along
the black lips of the sea. A Voice moaned be-
neath the traveling feet of the waves, and trem-
bled against the stars. Men, staring into the
moving gulfs beneath them, beheld vast irresolute
hands, as of a Swimmer who carried Ocean upon
his unfathomable brows, others, staring upward
into the dust of the Milky Way, discerned eye-
brows terrible as comets, and beneath them pale
orbs as of forgotten moons, with long wind-up-
lifted hair blowing from old worlds idly swinging
in the abyss, far back into the starless inlands of
the Silent King.

And as that Breath arose, the knees of the sea-
farers were as reeds in shaken water. An old
druid of the Gaels whispered Mananann! O
Mananann !

Gradlon the king lay upon the fells of she-
wolves, and "bit his lips, and muttered that if a
man spoke he would take his heart from him and
throw it to the filmy beasts of the sea.

It was then that Malgven's labor was done;
and a woman-child came forth, and at the first
cry of the child the Voice that was a Breath
ceased. And when there was no more any moan-
ing of the unnumbered, cries and laughters came
from the deeps ; and like a flash of wings meteors
fled by ; and beyond the unsteady masts were sud-
den green and blue flames, plumes worn by de-
mons whose meeting pinions were made of
shadow, and beyond these the dancing of the
stars.

And by these portents Gradlon was troubled.
But Malgven smiled and said: "Let the girl be
called Dahut, Wonder, for truly her beauty shall
be the wonder of all who come after us. She is
but a little foam-white human child: but the sea
is in her veins, and her eyes are two fallen stars.
Her voice will be the mysterious voice of the sea;
her eyes will be the mysterious light within the
sea : therefore let her be called Dahut. She shall
be the little torch at the end, for me, Malgven : she
shall be the Star of Death for the multitude whom
she will slay with love : she shall be the doom of
thee and thine and thy people and the kingdom
that is thine, O Gradlon, Conan of Arvor : there-
fore let her be called Dahut, Wonder; Dahut, the
sweet evil singing of the sea; Dahut, Blind Love;
Dahut, the Laughtej; Dahut, Death. Yea, let her
be caled Dahut, O Gradlon, she to whom I have
given more than other women give to those whom

464

CURRENT LITERATURE

they bear: for I am of those children of Danu of
whom you have heard strange tales, of those
Tuath-De-Danann whose lances made of moon-
shine can pierce granite walls, and whose wisdom
is more old than the ancient forgotten cromlechs
in your land and in mine, and whose pleasure it
is to dwell where are the palaces of the Sidhe,
that are wherever green hills grow dim and pale
and blue as the smoke above woods."

Thus was it that the sea-born child ofGradlon of
Arvor and Malgven the Dannite was called Dahut.

When the Armoricans returned to their own
land, the brother of Gradlon, whom he had made
Tanist or vice-regent, welcomed Gradlon; for
their father, the old King of Cornonailles, still
lived, though blind from the Gaulish arrow which
had crossed his face slantwise in a great battle
on the banks of the Loire. It was not till the
seventh year thereafter that Gradlon again fared
far. For three years he was among the Kymry,
the Alban Gaels, the Picts, the Islesmen, the Gaels
of Eire, the Gaels of Enona. Then, when he was
in that land which is now called Anglesey, a deep
craving and weariness came upon him to see
Malgven again, tho less than a year back had she
gone from him, to rule in Arvor in his place; for
Arz, his brother, had been slain in a Prankish foray.

Her beauty was so great that he wore the days
in sorrow because of it. When he arose at dawn
it flashed against his eyes out of the rising sun :
when he looked at the sea, it moved from wave
to wave and beckoned to him : When he stared at
the cloud-shadowed hills, he saw it lying there
a dream : when he fared forth at he rising of the
moon it took him subtly, now with a birch branch
that caught his hair as often it had tangled with
Malgven's long curling locks, now with the
brushing of tall fern that was a sound like the
rustling of her white robe, now because of two
stars shining low above dewy grass, which were
as her shining eyes.

There was no woman in the world so beautiful,
he knew : and yet both men and women prophe-
sied that Dahut would be more beautiful still —
Dahut the Red, as the girl was already called be-
cause of her ruddy bronze-hued hair, wonderful
in mass and color as was that of her mother:
more wonderful far, said Malgven, smiling
proudly, who knew Dahut to be of the Tuath-De-
Danaan, even as her mother was, and that she
would be a torch to light many flames and may-
hap fires vast and incalculable.

So one day Gradlon arose and said, "For Da-
hut," and broke his sword : and said, "For Arvor,"
and broke his spear: and said, "For Malgven,"
and bade every prisoner be set free, and the ships
be filled with treasure and provision.

When he saw the black rocky coa&ts of Finis-

tere once more he swore a vow that he would
never again leave his land, or Malgven. Every-
where, as he journeyed to Kemper, he heard the
rumor of the Red Queen's greatness, of her terri-
ble beauty, of Dahut the Beautiful, Dahut the
Perilous, Dahut the Sorceress. And he laughed
to think that the girl of ten summers was already
so like the woman who bore her : and his heart
yearned for both, as his ears longed to be void
of the ceaseless moan of the sea. His first joy
was when he rode through the forest of Huelgoet,
and heard no sound but the croodling of wild
doves and the soft, sleepy purring of the south
wind lapping the green leaves.

When he reached the Great Town, as Kemper
was then called, he saw black banners falling from
the low walls of the Fort. He rode onward
alone, and found Malgven lying on a high couch,
with her golden diadem on her head, and her long
hair clasped with golden rings, and her snow-
white arms alongside her breastplate of curiously
carven mail, which she wore above a white robe.
Beside her sat the old blind King.

From that day Gradlon never smiled. For five
years from that day he strove against the bitter
hours, and in all unkingly ways, but without
avail. He could not forget the beauty of Malg-
ven. For one year he strove furiously in war.
For a second year he hunted wild beasts, from
forest to forest, from the domains of the north
to the domains of the south and from the domains
of the east to the domains of the west. For the
third year he loved women by day, and cursed
them through sleepless, remembering nights. For
the fourth year he drank deep. For the fifth year
the evil of his life was so great that men mur-
mured against him, and many muttered: "Better
the old blind King, Arz-Dall, or the young sor-
ceress Dahut herself."

During all these years Gradlon had no sight of
Dahut. Because that she was her mother's self,
and because that her beauty was so like, yet
greater than that of Malgven, the King had sent
her to Razmor, his great fort in the north, where
are the wildest seas and the wildest shores of
Amorica. And in all these years Gradlon had but
one joy, and that was when he mounted his great
black stallion Morvark, and rode for hours, and
for leagues upon leagues, by the falling surf of
the seas. For when he rode the great horse, the
sea-beast as the Armoricans called it in their
dread, he dreamed he heard voices he heard at
no other time, and often, often, the long cry of
Malgven that he had first listened to with shud-
dering awe among the Gaelic hills.

It was at the end of the fifth year that he came
suddenly upon Dahut, when he was riding on
Morvark by the wild coast of Razmor. When his

A CONVERSATION

465

gaze drank in her great beauty, he reined in his
furious stallion, and his heart beat, for it was
surely Malgven come again, in immortal Dannite
youth. Then, remembering that Morvark would
let no mortal mount him, save only Gradlon and
Malgven that was gone, he flung himself to the
ground and lay there as tho dead . . .
whereat, with a loud neighing, terrible as the
storm-blast, Morvark raced with streaming mane
towards Dahut. And when he was come to her,
the girl laughed and held out her arms, and the
black stallion whinnied with red nostrils against
her cream-white breasts, and his great eyes were
like dark billows that have sunken rocks beneath
tliem, and when he bent low his head and Dahut's
ruddy hair streamed over her white shoulders,
like blood falling over a white cliff, it was as
tho beneath this sunlit white cliff brooded the
terror and mystery of nocturnal seas. Then Da-
hut mounted Morvark, and rode back towards
the King, her father. As she rode, the moan of
ocean broke across the sands. Waves lifted them-
selves out of windless calms, and made a hollow
noise as of traveling thunders. On the unfur-
rowed, flowing plains, billows, like vast cattle
with shaggy manes, rose and coursed hither and
thither, with long, low. deliberate roar upon roar.
Among the rocks and caverns a myriad waves
relinquished clinging hands, only to spring for-
ward again and seize the dripping rocks and
swirl far inland long watery fingers so swift and
fluent, yet with salt grip terrible and sure.

Gradlon looked at Dahut, and at the snorting
stallion Morvark, and at the suddenly awakened

and uplifted sea. "Avel, avelon, holl ayel!" he
cried: "Wind, wind, all is but wind; vain as the
wind, void as the wind !"

For he had seen that the woman, whose beauty
was so great that his heart beat for fear of its
strangeness, was no other than Dahut his daugh-
ter: and by that passing loveliness and that terri-
ble beauty, and by the bending to her of the
Tameless Morvark, and by the portents of the Sea
which loved her, he knew that this was the
daughter of Malgven, who was of the ancient and
deathless children of Danu.

When Gradlon rode back to Kemper with
Dahut before him upon Morvark, all who saw
them fell on their knees. So great was the beauty
of Dahut, and so strange was already the public
rumor of the Sorceress, of this Daughter of the
Sea. Her skin was white as new milk, as the
breasts of doves : her hair was long and thick and
wonderful, and of the hue of rowan-berries in
sunlight, of bronze in firelight, of newly spilled
blood trickling down a white cliff: her eyes were
changeful as the sea, and, as the sea, were filled
with unfathomable desires, and with shifting light
full of terror and beauty.

But because Dahut could not live far from the
wild seas she loved, she bade Gradlon make a
new great town, and to build it by Razmor, where
the square-walled castle was, on the wave-swept
promontory.

And thus was the town of Ys built by Gradlon,
Conan of Arvor, for the mystery and the delight
and the wonder and the terror that was called
Dahut the Red.

A Conversation — By TurgeniefF

The author of this prose pastel, Ivan S. Turgenieff, seems to be one of the nineteenth century
writers the world will not let die. Three years ago a "complete edition" of his works was brought
out in this country by Scribners and now another edition has been launched by Macmillan's. From
the latter edition, translated by Constance Garnett, we print the following. It is one of the "Poems
in Prose" which were written by the author among the last things he produced.

"Neither the Jungfrau nor the Finsteraarhorn has yet
been trodden by the foot of manl"

HE topmost peaks of the Alps. . . .
A whole chain of rugged precipices.
. . . The very heart of the moun-
tains.
Over the mountain a pale-green,
clear, dumb sky. Bitter cruel frost ; hard spark-
ling snow ; sticking out of the snow the sullen
peaks of the ice-covered, wind-swept mountains.
Two massive forms, two giants on the sides of
the horizon, the Jungfrau and the Finsteraarhorn.
And the Jungfrau speaks to its neighbor:
"What canst thou tell that is new? Thou canst
see more. What is there down below?"

A few thousand years go by: one minute. And
the Finsteraarhorn roars back in answer: "Thick
clouds veil the earth. . . . Wait a little !"
Thousands more years go by: one minute.
"Well, and now?" asks the Jungfrau.
"Now I see ; down there below, all is the same.
There are blue waters, black forests, heaps of
grey stones piled up. Among them are still
fussing to and fro the insects ; thou knowest, the
bipeds that have never yet defiled thee or me."

"Men?"

"Yes, men."

Thousands of years go by: one minute.

"Well, and what now?" asks the Jungfrau.

"There seem fewer insects to be seen," thun-
ders the Finsteraarhorn. "It is clearer below ; the
waters have shrunk; the forests are thinner."

Again thousands of years go by: one minute.

"What dost thou see?" says the Jungfrau.

"Close about us it seems purer," answers the
Finsteraarhorn; "but there m the distance the
valleys are still spots and something is moving."

"And now?" says the Jungfrau, after more
thousands of years : one minute.

"Now it is well," answers the Finsteraarhorn ;
"it is clean everywhere, quite white, wherever you
look. . . . Everywhere is our snow, unbroken
snow and ice. Everything is frozen. It is well
now, it is quiet."

"Good," says the Jungfrau. "But thou and I
have chatted enough, old fellow. It is time to
slumber."

"It is time indeed!"

The huge mountains sleep ; the green, clear sky
sleeps over the region of eternal silence.

Humor of Life

A MAN OF FORESIGHT

In a New Jersey suburb the town officers had
just put some fire extinguishers in their big
buildings. One day one of the buildings caught
fire, and the extinguishers failed to do their work.
A few days later at the town meeting some cit-
izens tried to learn the reason. After they had
freely discussed the subject one of them said:
"Mr. Chairman, I make a motion that the fire
extinguishers be examined ten days before every
fire." — Pacific Monthly.

SO MUCH CHEAPER

Cholly Speedway : ''I cannot live without your
daughter, sir!"

Old Riverside: "Probably not — in New York!
But I think you might in some of the suburbs."
— Smith's Magazine.

Minister: "Do you take this man for better or
worse, till death parts you?"

Bride: "I should prefer an indeterminate sentence,
I think." — Leslie's Weekly.

CUSTER'S TRANSLATION.

West Point's aim is to teach
men to meet any situation with the
best there is in them.

When General Custer was a
cadet, he ventured into the French
section room without having so
much as looked at the day's
lesson. The section had been en-
gaged in the translation of ^Esop's
fables from French to English, but
on this particular day the task
consisted of a page of history
written in French. Cadet Custer
was given the book, and very
bravely dashed into the translation
of this sentence : "Leopold due
d'Autriche, se mettit sur les
plaines de Silesie." But the Duke of Austria
did not seem to appeal to him, for without hesi-
tation he read :

"The leopard, the duck, and the ostrich met
upon the plains of Silesia." — Lippincott's.

UNSOPHISTICATED

I here is an old story of a simple Highland lass
who had walked to Glasgow to join her sister in
service. On reaching a toll-bar
on the skirt of the city, she began
to rap smartly with her knuckles
on the gate. The toll-keeper came
out to see what she wanted.

"Please, sir, is this Glasgow?"
she inquired.
"Yes, this is Glasgow."
"Please," said the girl, "is
Peggy in?" — Pacific Monthly.

The Rooster: "I know, my
dear, that comparisons are
odious, but I simply wanted
you to see what other folks are

doing."

—Life.

EPITAPH.

Here lies poor Andrew Harvey
Hoyle ;
Ne'er shall we see him more.
The stuff he drank for castor oil
Was H2SO4!

— Lippincotfs.

NO PLEASING HIM
Mother: "Tommy, what's your little brother
crying about?"

Tommy: "'Cause I'm eatin' my cake an' won't
give him any."

Mother: "Is his own cake finished?"
Tommy: "Yes'm; an' he cried while I was
eatin' that, too."

— The Catholic Standard and Times.

VAIN REGRETS
Mrs. Casey: "Ut was th' illigant funeral ye
gave yer husband."

Mrs. O'Toole: "True for ye, darlint, an' I'm
that sorry th' poor man didn't live to see ut."
— Smith's Magazine.

THE USEFUL DACHSHUNDS

"Henry, come right in here and stop practisin' cro-
quet mit der dogs; you want to tire em all out."

— Harper's Monthly.

THE HUMOR OF LIFE

467.

She:

THE EXTREME PENALTY
"What do you think of his execution?"

He:

"I'm in favor of it."
— Punch.

GOOD TO THEIR WIVES

Statistics show that 3,000 wives are deserted in
Chicago every year. This proves what we have
always been led to believe, that the American is
the most considerate husband in the world.

— Punch.

STUPID

An Englishman was in New York for the first
time. He was at dinner with an American friend,
and expressed a desire to see a typical American
music-hall performance. The American led him
down to a ten-cent theater on the Bowery. The
first act on the bill was a Mexican knife-throwing
specialty. A beautiful creature stood with her
back against a wide board, and a gentleman with
a black mustache threw gleaming knives at her
clear across the stage. The first knife came
within an inch of her ear, and quivered as it
stuck in the soft wood. Then he landed one at
the other side of her head and one just above her.
The Englishman picked up his overcoat and start-
ed up the aisle. The American followed him and
asked: "What's the matter? Don't you like the
show?"

"It's very stupid," replied the Englishman. "He
missed her three times." — George Ade, in Success.

A LONG ROOT

An Irishman, with one jaw very much swollen
from a tooth that he wished to have pulled, en-
tered the office of a Washington dentist.

When the suffering Celt was put into the chair
and saw the gleaming forceps approaching his
face, he positively refused to open his mouth.

Being a man of resource, the dentist quietly in-
structed his assistant to push a pin into the pa-
tient's leg, so that when the Irishman opened his
mouth to yell the dentist could get at the refrac-
tory molar.

When all was over, the dentist smilingly asked :
"It didn't hurt as much as you expected, did
it?"

"Well, no," reluctantly admitted the patient.
"But," he added, as he ran his hand over the
place into which the assistant had inserted the
pin, "little did I think them roots wint that far
down !" — Sticcess Magazine.

THE COURTEOUS CORPORAL
A native postman on the Gold Coast of West
Africa went in bathing, and then wrote the fol-
lowing letter to his postmaster:

Dear Master : I have the pleasure to regret to
iiiform you that when I go bath this morning a
billow he remove my trouser. Dear Master, how
can I go on duty with only one trouser? If he
get loss, where am I? Kind write Accra that
they send me one more trouser so I catch him
and go duty.

Good-day, Sir, my Lord, how are you?

Your loving corporal,
J. Addie.
— Country Gentleman.

SUPPOSE SHE fiAD BEEN OUT?
"What day was I born on, mother?"
"Thursday, child."

"Wasn't that fortunate! It's your day 'at
home.' " — Harper's Weekly.

468

CURRENT LITERATURE

"DARNIT! IS IT S-O-P-E OR SOAP?"

— Harper's Weekly.

FAITH IN HIS MOTHER

Fatty: "I'll bet my father can lick your
father."

Ratty: "Dat all may be, but I'll bet my mother
kin lick yer hull fambly." — Smith's Magazine,

HE SHOULD HAVE CUT IT

"That old duffer was unexpectedly asked to
speak at our class dinner, and he got up and
talked for forty minutes."

"Do you think he had his speech all cut and
dried?"

"Well — it may have been dried."

— Lippincott's Magazine.

PROBABLY

Teacher (to Little Boy) : "Freddie Brooks,
are you making faces at Nellie Lyon?"

Freddie Brooks: "Please, teacher, no ma'am;
I was trying to smile, and my face slipped."

— Lippincott's Magazine.

HE HADN'T CAUGHT UP

Several years ago, when the University of Chi-
cago held its decennial celebration, John D.
Rockefeller was its guest for several days. A
bewildering succession of functions followed one
another in such quick succession that each affair
was from one to four hours late.

At the great banquet on the closing day, Mr.
Rockefeller in his after-dinner speech told the
following story :

"I have felt for the past twenty-four hours like
the Boston business man who lived in the suburbs
and came in to his office every day. One winter
afternoon he took the train for his home, but a
terrific snow-storm was raging, and about half
way to his suburb the train was snowed in. All
night the passengers were imprisoned, but early
in the morning they managed to reach a nearby
telegraph station, and the Boston man sent the
following dispatch to his office :

"Will not be in the office to-day. Have not got
home yesterday yet."

IN 2007.

They were seated in front of the open fire. The
flickering flames made their faces glow and hid
the strands of gray in their hair. She was doing
most of the talking, but he proved himself a good
listener.

"The man I marry," she was saying, "must have
high qualifications. He must be healthy, honest,
successful. He must have a good education and
a high sense of family duty. He must be modest
and gentlemanly. He must be even-tempered and
a hater of profanity. He must have a true Chris-
tian humility, and must not talk back. He must"
— she paused and looked at her companion, who
seemed to be much confused and embarrassed.
He twisted and wrung his handkerchief and
moved uneasily in his chair.

Suddenly he looked shyly up at her, his face
suffused with happiness, and said, with a becom-
ing lisp, "Oh, Maud, this is so sudden." — Pacific
Monthly.

MARK TWAIN OBEYED THE SCRIPTURE

In the Iowa town where Mark Twain used to
reside, the following story of him is occasionally
handed about :

One morning when he was busily at work an
acquaintance dropped in upon him, with the re-
quest that he take a walk, the acquaintance hav-
ing an errand on a pleasant country road.

"How far is it?" temporized Mark Twain.

"Oh, about a mile," replied the friend.

Instantly the humorist gathered his papers to-
.gether, laid them aside, and prepared to leave his
desk.

"Of course I will go," he announced; "the
Bible says I must."

"Why, what in the world has the Bible got to
do with it?" asked the puzzled friend.

' It distinctly commands," answered Mr. Clem
ens, " 'if a man ask thee to go wit'i him a mile,
go with him. Twain' !" — Lippincott's.

HIS NEW MEDICINE

"How is your papa, Bessie?" asked a neighbor
of a little girl whose father was ill.

"Oh, he's improvin' awfully I" the child an-
swered. "The doctor is givin' him epidemic in-
junctions every day!" — Lippincott's.

THE MAN OF THE MONTH

hn.*Tf t?,?^^,..fl,o'^^^ ^* ''^f" '^?'!!i*^ Carnegie's, month. As toastmaster at the simplified spelling banquet, as
th^r^\il^fnA^ if- t t "*^,f*"^ J"=y '^ 1»? home.in New York, as founder of the Carnegie Institute in Pittsburg.
neVpn^i/^rirfl «;„r^ f^^ ^fs brought distinguished visitors to America from all lands at his expense, as donor of the
rZf-Jlf^, i f Societies Building opened a few days ago m New York, and as president of the first National Peace
h^™ l^- America, he has loomed large in the world of events and diffused widely the joy of living that radiates

irom bis canny countenance. j j j a

Current Literature

Edward J. Wheeler, Editor
VOL XLII, No. 5 Associate Editors : Leonard D. Abbott, Alexander Harvey

Qeorge S. Vierecic

MAT, 1907

A Review of the World

O THE newspaper man, who views
the world as a spectacle and for
whom the dramatic and picturesque
is always apt to be the most im-
portant, Senator Foraker comes forward as a
positive boon. The Senator is adorably dra-
matic. He can throw down the gage of con-
flict almost as magnificently as Blaine or Conk-
ling could, and there are few men of that kind
left in politics in these days. His defiance to
Secretary Taft and, by implication, President
Roosevelt, has been made in a way and at a
time to command the nation's attention. For
months to come Ohio will apparently be the
stage whereon the presidential drama is to be
enacted, all the rest of the country being audi-
ence-room. And the players on that stage are
such as to insure a first-rate performance. The
audience will be kept in breathless suspense up
to the last moment. Then there will come as
a finale a magnificent reconciliation scene, in
which all the actors will clasp hands as the
curtain drops, and a big bouquet labeled "pres-
idential nomination" will be handed over the
footlights to one of the actors and another of
lesser size labeled "senatorial re-election" will
be iianded to another.

IT WAS Foraker who first thrust Taft into
^ public prominence. The latter had been an
assistant prosecuting attorney and a collector
of internal revenue. Foraker made him a
judge of the Superior Court of Cincinnati.
Taft was then but twenty-nine, and he had
been engaged in a forensic duel with Foraker,
trying, as representative of the bar association,
to secure the disbarment of a Cincinnati law-
yer of the name of T. C. Campbell. The law-
yer's attorney was J. B. Foraker, and he saved
his client. Being elected governor not long
afterward, Foraker appointed his young op-
ponent to a place on the bench where, twenty-
two years before, Taft's father had sat before

he became (as his son has also become) the
nation's secretary of war. It was Foraker also
who first took up the fight against Hanna and
Hanna's machine to give Theodore Roosevelt
the presidential nomination after he had filled
out President McKinley's unexpired term.
The whirligig of politics produces strange re-
sults. Against these two men Senator Foraker
is now making the fight of his life; for his
relations with both of them have disappointed
the Senator. He expected, after the election
of Roosevelt, to be a court favorite and to
supersede Hanna as a dispenser of patronage
in Ohio. President Roosevelt did not view
things in the same light. And when, two years
ago, the secretary of war made a speech in the
Ohio campaign that pulled down from his high
horse Foraker's first lieutenant in Cincinnati,
George B. Cox, the milk of human kindness
in the Senator's bosom changed to gall, and it
was not long after that he took to the warpath.

IT WAS while Secretary Taft and Congress-
* man Burton, who aspires to Foraker's seat
in the Senate, were on their way to Cuba that
the Senator .issued his recent challenge. It
would have been more chivalrous if he had
issued it when they were here to answer it.
But things had begun to happen that made him
afraid to wait. From the White House had
come the announcement about a "rich men's
conspiracy" to prevent the continuance of
Rooseveltism, and naturally Foraker became
at once a "suspect." Then from Cincinnati
came the news that Secretary Taft's brother,
Charles P. Taft (proprietor of the Times-Star,
and said to be the second wealthiest man in
Ohio) had secured an alliance with Insurance
Commissioner Arthur I. Vorys, an astute poli-
tician and heretofore an important member of
the Foraker-Dick machine, and that Vorys was
to manage the campaign for the selection of
Secretary Taft as the choice of Ohio Repub-

470

CURRENT LITERATURE

HAS ANOTHER HANNA ARISEN?
Arthur I. Vorys, insurance commissioner of Ohio,
is directing the Taft campaign in that state, and those
who know him say he bids fair to become another
President-maker of the caliber of Hanna._ It was his
defection from the Foraker-Dick combination that pre-
cipitated Senator Foraker's recent challenge for a
contest at the primaries.

licans for the presidency. Senator Foraker
hesitated no longer. He reached for his foun-
tain pen and wrote as follows:

"In view of the interviews and announcements
of one kind and another that are appearing in the
newspapers, I feel that I may with propriety say
that I do not want any political honors from the
Republicans of Ohio without their hearty approval.
In order that there may be no doubt as to their
preferences I shall at the proper time request the

Republican State Central Committee to issue a
call for a RepubHcan State Convention, to be
composed of delegates elected by the Republicans
of the state at duly authorized primary elections,
for the purpose not only of nominating candi-
dates for state offices to be voted for at our next
state election, but also to determine the prefer-
ence of the Republicans of Ohio as to candidates
for United States senator and for president."

Back came a prompt acceptance of the chal-
lenge from Secretary Taft's brother:

"As the Senator has included the two offices in
this primary contest. Secretary Taft's friends ac-
cept the proposition and will make it a distinct
contest: Taft for the presidency or senatorship,
or Foraker for the presidency or senatorship.
If the Republicans of Ohio by their votes at the
primaries indicate that they prefer Foraker for
the presidency or senatorship Secretary Taft is
eliminated from the political situation. If the
people of Ohio indicate Secretary Taft for the
presidency or senatorship Senator Foraker is
eliminated from the political situation in Ohio.
This is a direct contest between the friends of
the administration of President Roosevelt and his
opponents. We are willing to submit it to the Re-
publican voters of Ohio and the sooner the better."

T~'HUS began the contest on the results of
* which the course of our national develop-
ment for years to come may depend. For-
aker's reliance for victory is, first, upon him-
self and his power on the stump; second, upon
"the organization," control of which at the
death of Hanna passed to Senator Dick and
Senator Foraker; third, upon the open and
latent hostility to President Roosevelt among
corporation men. But unless the press com-
ment on the fight is so far entirely misleading,
the Senator's cause is next to a hopeless one.
"In the light of what the people .did to the
Ohio organization a year ago last fall," re-
marks the Cleveland Plain Dealer (Dem.),
"and their now clearly manifest purpose to
finish the work then left incomplete, Senator
Foraker is displaying something like the cour-
age of despair." And the Cleveland Leader
(Rep.) comments in a similar strain: "Unless
Senator Foraker surrenders pitifully, there is
no doubt as to the outcome of this battle of
the giants. The Senator has been led into a
mistake which must result in his undoing.
There is no manner or shadow of doubt that
a popular expression of opinion will favor
Secretary Taft so overwhelmingly that polit-
ical elimination will be the portion of his op-
ponent."

1908 NOMINATION: "THAT THING WILL
DRIVE ME AWAY YET."

— Brinkerhoff in Toledo Blade.

TTHE northern end of the state has been anti-

^ Foraker for years; but in the other end

the sentiment seems to run almost as

strong in Taft's favor. In addition to Charles

FORAKER'S FIGHT AGAINST TAFT

471

P. Taft's paper, which has heretofore been a
strong organization paper, four of the largest
RepubUcan dailies in southern Ohio are for
Secretary Taft. According to correspondents
of the New York Times in various parts of
the state, the four large cities of the state —
Cincinnati, Cleveland, Dayton and Columbus —
are for Taft, and the rural districts are "al-
most conceded" to him. "The Taft sentiment,"
says The Times's Columbus correspondent, "is
not a zephyr, it is a hurricane." Says the
Toledo Blade, one of the most prominent Re-
publican papers in the state:

"Wiseacres say that he [Foraker] is burning
his bridges behind him. and that if he loses he
must retire to private life. But Mr. Foraker real-
izes that there are no bridges left to burn. He
destroyed them when he began his campaign
against President Roosevelt, and unless he can
build others and convince the citizens of Ohio
that he is right and the President is wrong, his
retirement is inevitable. In this campaign it is
not a question with him of holding what he has,
for that is not enough to avail, but of so strength-
ening himself at the expense of the President that
he can more than recover lost ground."

HTHE antagonism which Senator Foraker has
■^ aroused on his own account appears to be
surprisingly strong. Various shippers' asso-
ciations are actively distributing literature
against him because of his position on the
Hepburn rate regulation bill in the last Con-
gress (he was the only Republican Senator
that voted no on the final passage of the bill) ;
and the Ohio Medical Association is doing all
it can as a non-political organization to defeat
his purposes, because of the favors he has se-
cured for the osteopaths, one of whom, he be-
lieves, cured his son. The Cleveland cor-
respondent of the New York Times says:

"The bitterness of the feeling against Foraker
is one of the most surprising things to a visitor
in this state, and it is nowhere more striking
than in this city. The Western Reserve fairly
hates him. It is not mere political opposition. It
partakes rather of the unusual intensity of feehng
which was called out on both sides in New York
in the Hearst campaign last year. Foraker in the
nation is a different man from Foraker in his
own state. In the nation he looms large, and
here he is whittled down to the size of Dick. The
same phenomenon was observed when David B.
Hill was in the Senate. To men from other
states, who saw Hill in Washington, he was a
wise and statesmanlike iigure. In New York
little was known of his statesmanship and a great
deal was known of his machine, and he was
looked upon there as a peanut politician.

"It seems to be a good deal that way with
Foraker, altho for different reasons. The cor-
dial dislike for him and the outspoken bitter-
ness of the language used concerning him by Re-
publicans is a thing which it would be difficult to
make the folk in Washington believe. A good

HE WISHES TO SIT IN FORAKER'S SEAT
Congressman Theodore E. Burton, of Cleveland, is
a bachelor, a preacher's son and a_ lawyer; but not
content with all these honors, he aspires to be Senator
Foraker's successor, and he has for two years been
warning the Ohio voters of Foraker's hostility to
Taft and to the Roosevelt administration.

deal of it, evidently, is due to resentment over
the feeling that Foraker buncoed the party last
year. The party is for Roosevelt. Burton
warned the party that Foraker was against the
President. Foraker made the party believe that
Burton knew not whereof he spoke, and got his

SKI SAILING— THE LATEST THRILLER IN
THE POLITICAL CIRCUS

— Maybell in Brooklyn Eagle,

472

CURRENT LITERATURE

own ticket nominated. Everybody knows now
that Foraker is against Roosevelt and was against
him then, and that a Roosevelt state was led into
the false appearance of being against the Pres-
ident. It rankles."

TTHE whole result seems to depend upon
■'• Senator Foraker's ability to change the
sentiment of the state. Unless he can do that
in the weeks to come, even the organization,
which cares more for victory than it cares for
any man, and which has no special fondness
for the Senator anyhow, will turn against him
His task is to reverse the sentiment of the
state not only concerning Taft, but concerning
President Roosevelt, or else to convince the
people anew that he is not opposed to the
President. In his opening speech, in Canton,
he seems bent on the latter course. In it he
was on the defensive throughout, declaring
that he had differed from the President on but
three issues in six years — the joint statehood
bill, the rate-regulation bill, and the Browns-
ville incident. A political leader of Senator
Foraker's sort is at his best in attack, not in
defense; and the embarrassing feature of his
position is that he can not very well make an
aggressive fight on Taft without making one
upon the Roosevelt administration. "If For-
aker can retain his seat in the Senate," says
the Boston Herald, "he will do well. He is
not likely to do more." The New York Sun,
with a characteristic desire to see something
no one else sees and to say something that no
one else would ever think of saying, intimates

that the Secretary is being victimized for the
purpose of removing him from the presidential
situation and forcing the party to fall back
upon Roosevelt. It says :

"The Hon. William H. Taft, Secretary of War,
has turned his broad and genial back upon the
seething squabble. His personality has been in-
jected into the Ohio equation. In his absence the
state leaders, enraged by mysterious and uniden-
tified affront, are defying him to mortal combat.
They have been made to believe — through what
instrumentality does not now appear — that he
arraigns the Republican party organization of
Ohio, denounces it as corrupt, degraded and ig-
noble, and calls for its effectual and prompt ob-
literation. And so he sails away on summer seas
to fruitful isles, fanned by soft and healing zeph-
yrs, unconscious of the strife and bitterness that
rage at home. Is it wholly inconceivable that
Mr. Taft knows nothing of all this turmoil? May
not the imaginative mind assemble conditions and
considerations under which Mr. Taft will seem
the victim of it all and also the appointed sacri-
fice to an Illustrious Necessity?"

ANOTHER paper that finds something sin-
ister in the situation is Mr. Hearst's New
York Evening Journal. It says :

"The Noble Mind does not want a third term
any more than a cow wants four legs. George
Washington's provincial ideas are neither here
nor there, and Jefferson never climbed San Juan
Hill, anyhow.

"But the Noble Mind does not WANT a third
term. (See ^sop for particulars.)

"What DOES the Noble Mind want? Why,
ONLY this.

"It wants to NAME the next President, and
have that dummy obey the Noble Mind's orders.

TEACHER'S PET!

— Donahey in Cleveland Plain Dealer.

'THE MYSTERY OF MR. TAFT

473

"The Noble Mind, realizing that American gov-
ernment is a failure, and the American people
utterly incapable of selecting a President for
themselves, is going to take the place, modestly,
of some fourteen millions of voters.

"It will NAME the President of the United
States next time and indefinitely thereafter.

"It will CONTROL that man in office, tell him
what to think and what to say.

"The Noble Mind ONLY wants to be a Lord
Protector of this country. It ONLY wants to be
the nurse and mentor of eighty millions of child-
ish Americans unable and unfit to govern for
themselves.

"It wants to imitate Charles the Fifth, who re-
tired to a monastery and governed through his
successor. . . .

"It is painful for shivery Fairbanks and the
others. But it is all good fun for Americans with
a sense of humor. To have in one person a com-
bination of Don Quixote, Dowie, Mme. Blavatsky,
Munchausen and Braggo the Monk running eighty
millions of semi-intelligent creatures, and bullying
most of them, is a rich and unusual treat for any
philosopher.

"When Time tears the Roosevelt page out of
History's comic section men will wait a long time
for another like it."

A N ARTICLE of more than ordinary in-
^^ terest appears in the current number of
Pearson's Magazine, on "The Mystery of Mr.
Taft." The vv^riter, James Creelman, does not
find anything mysterious in the "simple and
limpid" life of Mr. Taft, but he does find a
mystery in the fact that "he wins the hearts
of individuals, but he does not fire the heart
of the sovereign multitude." Says Mr. Creel-
man:

"The country respects and trusts his ability and
integrity, but its attitude is that of passive recog-
nition and approval, not the headlong affection
that brings power to a political leader of the first
rank. But, from the standpoint of national con-
sciousness and national ideals, there is a mystery
in the fact that the suggestion of Mr. Taft as a
candidate for President of the United States — a
statesman of stainless name, unshakable independ-
ence, and creative and administrative abilities that
have compelled admiration throughout the world
— should stir so little enthusiasm in the American
people. Nor has the well understood and hearty
desire of the most popular of American presidents
to see this man succeed him in office served to
enkindle the political imagination of the great
masses toward Mr. Taft."

Mr. Creelman, after paying considerable at-
tention to Mr. Taft's career and personality,
finds the solution of the mystery in the fact
that he "is not dov^rered With, a political order
of mind and is almost vs^holly devoid of polit-
ical ambitions." He has "a judicial-adminis-
trative order of mind," and his one great am-
bition is to be a member of the Supreme Court
of the United States. Yet w^hen the chance
came to fulfil his highest ambition he refused
to accept it.

U" VERYBODY knows that Mr. Taft refused
^-^ an appointment to the Supreme Court be-
cause he believed that a change of governors
of the Philippines at that particular time would
result in injury to the islands and in forfeiture
of the confidence of the Filipinos, who would
not understand the reasons for his recall. But
few of us have known how determined he was
in putting away the temptation to gratify his
life-long wish. Mr. Creelman publishes the
correspondence in the case. Taft's first re-
fusal was cabled October 27, 1902. The con-
cluding paragraph was as follows:

"Look forward to time when I can accept such
an offer, but, even if it is certain that it can never
be repeated, I must now decline. Would not as-
sume to answer in such positive terms in view of
words of your dispatch if gravity of situation here
was not necessarily known to me better than it
can be known in Washington."

Then came a letter from President Roose-
velt written a month later (Nov. 26), which
ran in part as follows:

"Dear Will: I am awfully sorry, old man, but
after faithful effort for a month to try to arrange
matters on the basis you wanted I find that I shall
have to bring you home and put you on the Su-
preme Court.

"I am very sorry. I have the greatest confi-
dence in your judgment; but, after all, old fellow,
if you will permit me to say so, I am President
and see the whole field.

"The responsibility for any error must ulti-
mately come upon me, and therefore I cannot
shirk this responsibility or in the last resort yield
to any one else's decision if my judgment is
against it.

"After the most careful thought, after the most
earnest effort to do what you desired and thought
best, I have come, irrevocably, to the decision that
I shall appoint you to the Supreme Court, in the
vacancy caused by Judge Shiras' resignation, put
Luke Wright in your place as Governor, with Ide
as Vice-Governor."

IF EVER a man was given good reason for
yielding to a seductive temptation, certainly
Taft had it in that letter couched in almost
peremptory terms. Still he held out, and this
was his cabled reply, dated January 8, 1903:

"President Roosevelt, Washington.

"I have your letter of November 26th. Recog-
nize soldier's duty to obey orders.

"Before orders irrevocable by action, however,
I presume on our personal friendship, even in
the face of letter, to make one more appeal, in
which I lay aside wholly my strong personal dis-
inclination to leave work of intense interest half
done.

"No man is indispensable; my death would
little interfere with progress, but my withdrawal
more serious.

"Circumstances last three years have convinced
these people controlled largely by personal feeling
that I am their friend and stand for a policy of
confidence in them and belief in their future, ancj

474

CURRENT LITERATURE

for extension of self-government as they show
themselves worthy.

"Visit to Rome and proposals urged there as-
sure them of my sympathy in regard to friars, in
respect of whose far-reaching influence they are
morbidly suspicious.

"Announcement of withdrawal pending settle-
ment of church question, economic crises and
formative political period when opinions of all
parties are being slowly molded for the better,
will, I fear, give impression that change of policy
is intended, because other reasons for action will
not be understood. My successor's task thus made
much heavier because any loss of people's confi-
dence distinctly retards our work here. I feel it
is my duty to say this.

"If your judgment is unshaken I bow to it and
shall earnestly and enthusiastically labor to settle
question friars' lands before I leave, and to con-
vince the people that no change of policy is at
hand, that Wright is their warm friend, as sin-
cere as they think me, and that we are both but
exponents of the sincere good-will toward them
of yourself and American people."

Then the President surrendered. "All right,
old fellovir, you can stay," was his reply.

* *
ITH one little phrase of three words
— "rich men's conspiracy" — op-
ponents of the Roosevelt adminis-
tration have been suddenly placed
on the defensive all over the country. Legis-
lature after legislature has hastened to pass
resolutions expressing confidence in the
President and in his plans for the future,
senator after senator has rushed to the White
House seeking to purge himself of all sus-
picion, and an outburst of Roosevelt en-
thusiasm has been seen that has been de-
nominated in most of the journals comment-
ing on it as something absolutely unpre-
cedented in the history of the nation. The
strange thing about this potent phrase is that
hardly a journal in its editorial columns

takes it seriously, treating it as a subject for
merriment. And to add to the bewilderment
of a spectator of events, the authorship of
the phrase itself is veiled in considerable
mystery. The President is indeed given as
the source of the information concerning this
"conspiracy," but no verbatim statement has
come from him, and the Washington cor-
respondents, if they had a direct interview
with him, are unusually lax in the use of
quotation marks and obscure in their state-
ments. Such phrases as "the information
now disclosed in the White House" and "the
charges made by White House authority" and
"a roar of defiance came to-day from the
White House" abound. When we do come
across a direct statement such as "the Presi-
dent himself declared," we look in vain to
find the ipisissima verba of the declaration.
But perhaps the correspondents, with a fine
dramatic instinct, consider that such a dark
thing as a conspiracy should be treated with
an air of mystery even in its disclosure.

RUSSIA AND JAPAN: "CAN WE BE OF ANY
SERVICE?"
— James North in Tacoma News.

AT ANY rate there is no doubt that this
charge of a conspiracy comes from the
White House and in a general way has the
President himself for its sponsor. Harriman,
Rockefeller and Hearst are named as three
of the conspirators, and a fund of five million
dollars is said to have been made available
for their purposes. What they propose to do
is so to fix things between now and the date
of the next national Republican convention
that a reactionary shall be nominated to suc-
ceed the President. The method, so far as
is disclosed, of the conspirators is to en-
courage "favorite-son candidates" in states
where that can be done successfully, and in
other states where the Roosevelt tide runs too
strongly to be stemmed in that way to
nurse along the "third term" movement, be-
ing assured that Mr. Roosevelt will, when the
time comes, carry out his oft-repeated pledge
not to run again "under any circumstances."
By the use of the favorite-son sentiment and
the third-term sentiment they will secure the
election of conservative delegates to the na-
tional convention, who, when Mr. Roosevelt
has refused a renomination, can then bt used
to nominate a reactionary. News of some such
conspiracy came to the President, it is al-
leged, from many different states, impressing
but not convincing him. Finally a friend in
Washington in whom he has confidence
brought him a circumstantial report of a din-
ner in Washington at which a senator, un-
der the influence of too much wine, boasted

Photograph by Brown Brothers

A MASTER OF MEN
This is the first photograph we have seen of Mr. E. H. Harriman that shows in his face the masterful qualities
that appear in his life. Edwin Lefevre thus describes him: "An able man, forceful, aggressive, fearless, ambitious,
a money-maker, a railroad dynast, a great man, a very rich man — and the most hated man in Wall Street since Jay
Gould died. His closest associates have no personal affection for him, even tho he makes them richer. What
Harriman has done is remarkable. What be will do is difficult to say. But what could he not do if he worked
for, and therefore with, the public?"

476

CURRENT LITERATURE

PUTTING THE ROOSEVELT BRAND ON HIM
— C. R. Macauley in New York World.

of such a conspiracy and of the five-million-
dollar fund. The next day the senator sought
out one of his auditors of the evening before
to find out how much he had told, and, on
ascertaining, reaffirmed what he had said in
his cups and offered to place at the disposal
of the auditor $25,000 if he would join the
"conspiracy." This auditor at once took the
story to the President. The name of the
senator was not given out at the White
House, but the newspaper men, probing fur-
ther, ascertained to their own satisfaction that
it. was Senator Boies Penrose, of Pennsyl-
vania, and that the dinner referred to was
one given just before Congress adjourned, at
the Shoreham, by Senator Bourne. Senator
Penrose pleads an alibi. He was not at the
dinner. He knows nothing whatever of a
conspiracy. He is a Roosevelt man, and has
supported every one of the Roosevelt meas-
ures.

LJARDLY a newspaper of prominence that
*■ ^ has come to our attention treats this al-
leged conspiracy seriously in its editorial col-
umns. One exception is The North Ameri-
can, of Philadelphia, which is radical, but not
to the same degree as the Hearst papers. It
finds the story of a conspiracy probable and
tremendously important. It says:

"Was it the act of a too rash and impetuous
man that revealed from the White House the ex-

istence of a conspiracy to procure reversal, two
years hence, of the President's policies? The
friends of Mr. Roosevelt who think so are in
need of enlightenment. They will revise their
opinion when they have a wider view and larger
information. . . . It is by no means improbable
that the reactionaries, with vast wealth at their
command, will strive to nominate both the Re-
publican and Democratic candidates. They play
a great game for a big prize. Let no man under-
estimate the gravity of the movement. Let no
man permit himself to be persuaded that Pres-
ident Roosevelt's recent utterances were impelled
by personal vanity or by a hot temper. He has
an inside view of the proceedings. Now, as ever,
he represents the most sacred interests of the
people. . . . The lid is off, by the President's
own act, and the people may look into the swel-
tering mass of intrigue and chicanery and fero-
cious anger, and form their own judgment of the
plot that is exposed. . . . Thus the issue for
the campaign of next year is already clearly de-
fined. The tariff, the currency, the colonial ques-
tion— all the ancient, familiar, shopworn ques-
tions will be of minor importance. The one
great question will be the supremacy of the peo-
ple or of their corporate creatures."

/^NE other paper that treats the subject
^^ seriously is the Washington Star.
Whether there is much or little in the story, it
says, it is certainly a fact that such a con-
spiracy did exist in the winter of 1903-4, and
New York was its headquarters. Hanna was
at that time the hope of the conspirators, and
he knew of their purposes, tho he may not
have encouraged them. The Roosevelt sen-
timent was too strong then for the success
of the conspiracy, and it is too strong now:

"The only difference between that situation and
the present one is that Mr. Roosevelt was then
an avowed candidate to succeed himself, and now
he is not. As far as his open declaration can
make it so, the field for next year on the Re-
publican side is open, and as a result the friends
of. several prominent Republican leaders are
active in behalf of their respective favorites. But
the policies for which Mr. Roosevelt stands — and
particularly his railroad policy — are still before
the peoplCj and, so far as may be gathered from
public expressions, are still approved by the peo-
ple. Talk about reaction is nonsense. If the Re-
publican party next year should adopt what might
properly be characterized a reactionary platform
it would go to certain and overwhelming defeat.
The voters will never consent that this country
be Chicago-and-Altonized under anybody's lead-
ership."

"By this one stroke," remarks the Wash-
ington correspondent of the Boston Tran-
script, "the R-esident has put all his op-
ponents on the defensive. Already they are
explaining, and with the campaign that he
will direct this summer he will keep them
at it."

THAT "RICH MEN'S CONSPIRACY"

A77

'T'O THE Philadelphia Ledger, however, the
story "sounds very much like the advance
notices from the curdled brain of the circus
press agent or the 'write-up' man for the
'female baseball club.' " It assigns the
genesis of the story to the President's "fool-
friends," for "it is inconceivable that the
President personally should be wholly re-
sponsible for the various kinds of silliness
now emanating from Washington." The
New York Sun's Washington correspondent
asserts that the story was not intended to
be given out by the White House officials un-
til they could present it in a more formal
way; but it leaked out, and then the details
were disclosed "as a result of a sort of sym-
posium at the White House and were sand-
witched in between bits of history about the
presidential campaign of 1904." The Sun
editorially attributes the story to the Presi-
dent's desire to divert attention from his con-
troversy with Mr. Harriman. The Columbia
State takes the same view. The Boston Her-
ald calls it "a mare's nest story," and re-
marks :

"In the first place, no 'captain of industry' with
brains enough to have accumulated a million dol-
lars could be so idiotic as to believe that any
amount of money could turn back the popular
tide that has been running Mr. Roosevelt's way
for the last five years. Even a plutocratic para-
noiac could have no such delusion as that."

The Atlanta Constitution thinks it remark-
able that the only place any credence is at-
tached to the story is at the White House,
and it suspects that the credence there "is
rather of the political than of the genuine
sort." The New York Evening Post says:

"Where Hearst would have only seen things
yellow Roosevelt sees them red. If he is to have
his way, we are in for a presidential campaign
which will make the apocalyptic visions of the
Bloody-Bridles Populist seem like a midsummer
night's dream."

The advice of the New York World is for
the President to "calm down and not bother
his head about cock-and-bull stories of Wall
Street conspiracies," for "there is not enough
money in Wall Street to buy the National
Convention away from him or bring about
the nomination of a candidate to whom he is
opposed."

ALL this agitation over the "rich men's
conspiracy" came last month as a sequel
to the publication of the stolen letter written
by Mr. Harriman to a friend, Mr. Sidney
Webster, a little over a year ago. It is a very
confidential letter, and explains with much
apparent frankness how Mr. Harriman came

CONSPIRATOR? NO! HE PLEADS AN ALIBI
Senator Boies Penrose, of Pennsylvania, denies that
he is the senator who is alleged to have revealed the
five-million-dollar "rich men's conspiracy" to end
Rooseveltism. He says he is for everything Roose-
velt is for and so is Pennsylvania.

to be mixed up in politics and why he had
contributed heavily to the Republican cam-
paign fund in 1904. Few letters in the course
of American history have received wider pub-
licity or created a more immediate sensation.
To all appearances, it was sold to one of the
New York newspapers — Tke World — by a
former stenographer of Mr. Harriman's, who
had retained his shorthand notes. Mr. Har-
riman made an effort to prevent its publica-
tion, and has since instituted legal proceed-
ings against the disloyal stenographer. In
the letter he states that his entrance into
politics had been "entirely due" to President
Roosevelt. About a week before the election
of 1904 he had been requested by the Presi-
dent to come to Washington "to confer upon
the political conditions in New York State."
He complied, and was told that the success
of the campaign in that state depended upon
the raising of "sufficient funds." His help
was asked. Harriman stated that the op-
position to the re-election of Senator Depew
was the cause of the lack of campaign funds,
and that if Depew could be taken care of in
some other way the trouble would disappear.
"We talked over what could be dQA? for D©»

478

CURRENT LITERATURE

"I DO NOT CARE TO CONTINUE THIS CON-
TROVERSY."—E. H. HARRIMAN

— C. R. Macauley in New York World.

pew," says Harriman, "and finally he [Roose-
velt] agreed that if found necessary he
would appoint him as ambassador to Paris."
Harriman went back to New York on the
strength of this, telephoned to a friend of
Depew's, and raised a sum of $200,000, of
which he contributed $50,000, the money be-
ing paid over to the national Republican
treasurer, Cornelius N. Bliss. "This amount,"
says Harriman, "enabled the New York State
Committee to continue its work, with the re-
sult that at least 50,000 votes were turned
in the city of New York alone." In the fol-
lowing December he called on the President
and was told that the latter did not think
it necessary to appoint Depew, but favored
him for the Senate. Harriman then threw
his influence in favor of Depew's re-election.
"So you see," he explains, "I was brought
forward by Roosevelt in an attempt to help
him at his request."

which he wrote October 6, 1906, to James
S. Sherman, chairman of the Republican
Congressional Campaign Committee. The
President's letter to Mr. Sherman was an
elaborate explanation of his dealings with Mr.
Harriman. After he wrote it he was assured
that Mr. Harriman had not made the state-
ments attributed to him. But the stolen let-
ter recently published contains "these same
statements in major part," so the President
thinks, and therefore he has published his let-
ter to Sherman as his answer to the Harriman
letter. The statement that he, the President,
had promised to appoint Depew and had re-
quested Harriman to contribute money to the
presidential campaign. President Roosevelt
designates as "a deliberate and wilful un-
truth— by rights it should be characterized
by an even shorter and more ugly word."
This seems like an issue of veracity; but as a
matter of fact the President is speaking of a
particular statement and that statement Mr.
Harriman repudiates. The President goes
on to say that he did not ask Mr. Har-
riman for a dollar for the presidential
campaign, but their conversation related
entirely to the gubernatorial campaign
of Mr. Higgins, in which Mr. Harriman was
"immensely interested." Mr. Harriman ad-
mits in substance that this was the fact. On
the subject of Depew's appointment there is
greater discrepancy. The President asserts
that he informed Harriman, "not once, but
repeatedly," that he did not think he would
be able to appoint Depew to the ambassador-
ship. The Harriman letter asserts that he
promised to appoint Depew, "if necessary,"
but found that it was not "necessary," and so
informed Harriman. There is one other dis-
crepancy more apparent than real. Mr.
Harriman insists, and produces a letter to
show, that his interviews with the President
were the result of the latter's request, and
intimates that the President is trying to con-
ceal this fact. But it appears clearly in the
correspondence the President himself pub-
lishes that he had requested Harriman to call,
and would do so again later in order to con-
fer with him on his message. As the Boston
Herald notes, therefore, "there does not ap-
pear to be any straight issue between them
as to the vital facts of the case."

'T'HIS letter of Mr. Harriman's brought
■*■ down an epistolary avalanche from the
President, and created what seemed at first
to be a direct issue of veracity. The Presi-
dent's reply ig in the fgrm of & long letter

A SIDE from this question of veracity, the
^*- chief interest of the correspondence lies
in the fact that Mr. Harriman contributed
heavily and induced his friends to contribute
heavily to the Republican state campaign in

THE HARRI MAN -ROOSEVELT CORRESPONDENCE

479

1904, and did this at President Roosevelt's
solicitation. The Springfield Republican,
which is not hostile to the President, puts the
case as follows:

"Even if we accept the President's contention
at its full face value, he nevertheless appears as
urging a liberal use of money at the very last
moment to save the day in New York State and
approving measures to raise the money — and
whether the money was employed to elect Hig-
gins, regardless of the fortunes of President
Roosevelt, or otherwise, cannot of course make
any difference in the moral aspects of the affair.
That the money was used illegitimately is not
asserted or implied. But it may be said that
money raised at the very end of a campaign to
be spent in large sums on election day may not
easily be employed in wholly legitimate ways."

The New York Times (Dem.) thinks that
the point made by the President, that the
money asked for was not for the presidential
campaign, but for the state campaign,
is "so evasive and trivial a reply that,
coming from a less distinguished source, it
would be called a quibble." The Evening
Post (New York) couches its criticism as
follows :

"All told, the new revelations confirm what has
come out before about President Roosevelt being
so anxious in 1904 to save the country that he
did not scruple to use abhorrent means, and in-
vite the aid of men whom he now calls 'enemies
of the republic' in order to do it."

IVyi ANY journals recall the charge that was
^'■*' made in October, 1904, by the Demo-
cratic presidential candidate, Judge Parker, to
the effect that corporations were being heavily
taxed by the Republican campaign managers;
and President Roosevelt's vigorous repudiation
of the charge at the very time he was asking
help from Harriman is taken by a number of
papers as a case of glaring inconsistency. But
the President did not deny that corporations
were solicited to contribute and did contribute.
His denial was that Mr. Cortelyou was using
knowledge gained as a federal official to com-
pel corporations to contribute, and he stated
further: "The assertion that there has been
made in my behalf by Mr. Cortelyou or any-
one else any pledge or promise, or that there
has been any understanding as to future im-
munities or benefits in recognition of any
contribution from any source, is a wicked
falsehood." In this Harriman case nothing is
clearer than that Harriman got nothing that
he seems to have wanted in return for his con-
tribution to the Higgins campaign. Says the
New York Times:

"Mr. Roosevelt got what he wanted, Harri-
man's money, Harriman's influence, and the elec-

FEATHERING HIS NEST
The Bryan Bird: "I suppose before long he'll
yank this feather too."

— E. W. Kemble in Collier's Weekly.

tion. The tariff-blessed contributors of 'fat| used
to get what they wanted. Mr. Harriman did not
get what he wanted. He got instead such blows
and mishandling, such menaces of prosecution,
and suffered so grievously through the adminis-
tration's furious assaults upon the railroad cor-
porations that when the innocent Sherman so-
licited him for a contribution in the Congres-
sional and Hughes-Hearst campaign year 1906
his wrath uncontrollably flamed up. He had had
enough of pulling chestnuts out of the fire only
to be repaid by black ingratitude."

WHATEVER view is taken of this Roose-
velt-Harriman controversy, on one point
there seems to be a nearly unanimous agree-
ment, namely, that President Roosevelt's
popularity remains undiminished by that or
any other recent occurrences. New evidence
on this point has been elicited by the New
York Times, a conservative Democratic pa-
per. It addressed to five hundred Republican
papers throughout the country a letter re-
questing the opinions of the editors as to
whether President Roosevelt is as strong gen-
erally with the voters as he was at the time

48o

CURRENT LITERATURE

of his election in 1904. It began the publica-
tion of the replies April 7. The results have
aroused wide comment, but none more in-
teresting than that of The Times itself. It
says of the results of its inquiry:^

"The answer of the Republicans of the coun-
try, as it is confidently, eagerly, and enthusias-
tically expressed by these editors, is one unani-
mous shout of praise for Roosevelt. . . . From
Maine to Minnesota, these men, so close to pub-
lic opinion, unite in affirming that the President
has so grown in the public confidence and ad-
miration since his assumption of the chief magis-
tracy that he is now the absolute idol of his party
and of thousands of habitual opponents of his
party. He is held to be the incarnation of the
popular instinct against corporation privilege, the
embodiment of the 'square deal' principle. Where
he has made one enemy since the beginning of
his term of office he has won two friends, declare
with a curious agreement in this form of eulogy
several widely separated editors. Some note a
tendency to follow Roosevelt implicitly; to be-
lieve that whatever Roosevelt believes and does
is right because Roosevelt believes and does it.
Some perceive that the first impulsive admiration
which was given a somewhat spectacular martial
hero has deepened into a thoughtful and earnest
trust in his conscientiousness, his abiding zeal for
righteousness, and on the whole his wisdom.
'Never before so strong,' 'Stronger than when
he was overwhelmingly elected,' are phrases
which scarcely one of The Times's correspondents
has succeeded in avoiding.

"In short, there is no escaping from, or evad-
ing, the fact that if the Republican editors of the
country are judges of the trend of opinion in
their party, Mr. Roosevelt is the object of an
admiration which it would seem no other Amer-
ican has ever received. So far as they undertake
to speak for Democrats, these editors remark a
curious turning toward the Republican President
of the heart of the Democratic voters, who by
the thousand, it is said, would prefer him to any
man the Democrats could nominate out of their
own ranks."

Similar results have been shown in an in-
quiry instituted by the New York Herald
(Ind.) by means of interviews with political
leaders in many states.

'T'HE comment upon this showing is almost
••■ as interesting as the fact itself. The
Sun (New York), which is anti-Roosevelt,
says of the President: "He is the most «-on-
summate practical politician in the country.
Perhaps it is not too much to say that he is the
ablest and most successful political manager
American politics has ever known."

The Cleveland Plain Dealer (Dem.) says:

"In the light of all this evidence of the Pres-
ident's growing popularity there is clearly taking
form a condition which has no counterpart in
American politics. Here is a third term move-
ment which owes its inception and growth to no
eflfort on the part of anybody. It is a product of

spontaneous generation. It is becoming an in-
teresting question, not only how long the Pres-
ident will be able to resist such pressure but per-
haps how long he ought to resist it."

Still more striking is the following from
the Philadelphia North American:

"Yet all this amazing popular strength has -
been won against odds. From the day he took
office President Roosevelt has been opposed by
the most powerful leaders of his party. With
ever-increasing force have the huge resources of
the corporations been brought to bear against
him. State machines have secretly and openly 1
maneuvered to his hurt. Odell, of New York, and |
Foraker, of Ohio, are his avowed enemies. Even -
the Pennsylvania organization, eager to hide un-
der the shadow of Rooseveh in campaign time,
killed a legislative resolution approving his pol-
icies, and now is blunderingly displaying its ani-
mosity. Meanwhile the Roosevelt cult grows.
With many persons it has evolved into a sort of
religion. To challenge their admiration of him
is like assailing an article of sacred faith, rousing
not only antagonism but bitterness."

One Atlanta editor, John Temple Graves,
perhaps the most rabid anti-negro editor of
Georgia, publicly calls upon Mr. Bryan, at
the next national Democratic convention, to
nominate Theodore Roosevelt for President.

HICAGO'S recent election was of
far more than local interest. The
active participation in it of Mr.
William R. Hearst, of New York,
gave to it a certain national importance, for
his efforts were generally construed as an at-
tempt to rehabilitate himself as a candidate
for presidential honors. Two years ago, it
will be remembered. Judge Edward F. Dunne
was elected mayor of Chicago on the issue of
immediate municipal ownership and operation
of the street car lines. His plurality then was
about 25,000. Last month he was defeated
for re-election by a plurality of over 13,000,
Frederick A. Busse, the Republican candidate,
being the victor. Dunne was Hearst's candi-
date. The latter went to Chicago with Bris-
bane and other of his lieutenants, and his
personality played a very considerable part in
the campaign. Every daily paper in the city,
with the exception of the two owned by Hearst,
promptly lined up in support of Busse. It
was charged that Hearst not only dominated
in Dunne's campaign, but also in his adminis-
tration of city affairs and appointments to of-
fice. The Hearst papers made their usual
style of vivid- campaign, and Mr. Busse
brought a libel suit against them for $150,-
000. Then the Chicago Tribune reprinted
what had been said about Hearst by Secretary
Root in the New York campaign a year ago,

FOUND AT LAST— THE LEADER OF A UNIFIED DEMOCRACY
This is a composite photograph, made from the photographs of Mr. Bryan, Judge Parker and Mr. Hearst, whose
followers compose the three wings of the Democratic party and who held three dinners in New York City the other
day in honor of the birthday of Thomas Jefferson. This picture was made by dividing the time of exposure into
three equal parts, one of the parts being given to each of the three pictures, the eyes in each case being centered
on the plate and the other features falling as they might. There is an air of uncertainty about the mouth and nose
and a surplusage of ears; but the eyes are full of mystery and the dome of thought is impressive.

482

CURRENT LITERATURE

ELECTED MAYOR OF CHICAGO FOR FOUR
YEARS
Frederick A. Busse, the successful Republican candi-
date, who defeated Dunne, running on a municipal
ownership platform and strenuously supported by
Hearst, required but 200 words for his inaugural
speech. He is described as a blunt business man, and
has been postmaster of the city.

and Hearst brought libel suits against it for
$2,500,000. When the polls were closed Dunne
had been defeated, and with him all but one
of the candidates on the Democratic ticket.
At the same time a majority of 33,000 was
given in favor of the traction ordinances
against which Dunne and Hearst were fight-
ing.

nPHESE traction ordinances were, in fact,
■*■ the real battle-ground of the contest.
Dunne's attempts to secure immediate munic-
ipal ownership have in two years' time re-
sulted in little or no progress, and these trac-
tion ordinances were drafted as a compro-
mise between the city and the corporations
that would enable the latter to go on at once
with improvements and extensions on the basis
of a twenty-year franchise, and would also
give the city the right to purchase the rail-
roads any time it got ready on terms that
'were at first approved by Mayor Dunne, un-
til, so it is understood, Mr. Hearst pointed
out to him that he was depriving himself of his
best political issue. Then he opposed the ordi-
nances, and the board of aldermen passed them

over his veto, and the people have sustained
their position. The term of office for which
the two mayoralty candidates were battling
has been lengthened from two to four years,
and Chicago is therefore assured of a Re-
publican mayor for the next four years.

jP\EMOCRATIC and Republican papers alike
'-^ hold Mr. Hearst chiefly responsible for
the result. Says the New York World:

"Last year the Hearst personality alone cost the
Democrats the governorship in this state. Every
other Democrat on the state ticket was elected.
Mr. Hearst ran 60,000 behind his ticket in the
Democratic city of New York, enough votes to
furnish Gov. Hughes' plurality. In Massachu-
setts Hearstism fastened Moran on the Demo-
cratic party and increased the Republican plu-
rality 50 per cent. In California and Illinois it
worked similar disaster. The blight of Hearstism
has been fatal to the Democratic party wherever
it has taken hold of the organization."

The San Francisco Bulletin comments on
Hearst in much the same strain :

"Hearst counted on the municipal ownership
scheme to make him president of the United
States, but up to the present time it has not
helped him very far forward on the road to the
White House. The Democratic National Con-
vention derisively declined to nominate him. He
supported Schmitz in San Francisco on the
ground that Schmitz was pledged to public own-
ership of things in general, and particularly of
the Geary street railroad, but Schmitz backed out
of the Geary street project and sold himself out-
right to all the public utility corporations. Then
Hearst put himself up as a candidate for mayor
in New York City on a municipal ownership
issue, and was beaten. Thereupon he tried for
the governorship of New York and at the same
time endeavored to elect a Hearst man to the
governorship in California, and on both sides of
the continent he was disastrously defeated on the
same day. On top of this dual defeat comes the
Chicago affair. Surely, having got so many gen-
tle hints, Hearst must begin to suspect that the
people do not hanker for him or for candidates
or measures fathered by him."

|V/f R. HEARST'S own comment is in the na-
^^*- ture of a renewed repudiation of the
Democratic party and an appeal to voters to
desert it and join his Independence League.
He says:

"The usual thing has happened. An honest
Democratic candidate, running on a distinctly
Democratic platform, has been defeated by a cor-
rupt Democratic machine. It has been known all
along that a great many of the machine Dem-
ocratic leaders would probably betray Dunne on
election day, and the result seems to indicate that
they have done so. . . . It is another indica-
tion of the fact that the Democratic party in
many localities has neither honest principles nor-
honest leaders, and that the honest citizens who
are enrolled in the Democratic ranks in the hope
of promoting the principles of Jefferson should

LESSONS OF THE THAW TRIAL

483

realize that they can best achieve their object by
joining the Independence League."

In the Chicago Tribune Dunne's defeat is
also attributed to the defection of old-time
Democrats. It says:

"The particular motive of this campaign was
known to be the advancement not of Chicago, but
of the presidential boom of the agent of discon-
tent, William Randolph Hearst. Chicago control,
in his self-catechism, meant Illinois control, and
Illinois control might mean the control of the
democratic national convention.

"His first conquest was easy. He bent to his
purpose Mayor Dunne, who had favored the trac-
tion ordinances until he was told by the Hearst
radicals that their adoption would leave him with-
out a sensational campaign issue. The Mayor
was led up a high rhountain and shown a pano-
rama of disorder, himself at the center and
Hearst at his right hand. He created a division
in his party and brought about a situation where
his victory meant the death of the regular demo-
cratic organization as the price of Hearst as-
cendency and where his defeat meant the fall of
him and of Hearst, but the survival of the reg-
ular democratic organization. And this situation
beat him — ^the old line Democrats in self-preser-
vation slaughtered the candidate of their party."

UT of the Thaw murder trial, as out
of the carcass of the lion in Sam-
son's riddle, there may come forth
honey. The proceedings in this
sensational case, prolonged for nearly three
months and published at great length in the
newspapers on both sides of the sea, and the
fatuous result in a disagreement of the jury
and the probability of another trial have cre-
ated a widespread conviction in the American
mind of the need of reforms in our legal pro-
cedure. But amid all the expressions of dis-
gust and criticism that have been provoked,
specific suggestions of reform are deplorably
rare. The one that seems most promising is
that of a radical change in the securing of "ex-
pert testimony." As trials are now conducted
experts are hired by the prosecution and the
defense, and the side upon which the most ex-
perts are retained seems to be determined by
the length of the defendant's purse. It is at
that point that the chief advantage lies which
a wealthy homicide has over a poor one.
There are experts and experts, and it is al-
ways a difficult feat to show up a sham ex-
pert in such a way that a jury of ordinary
laymen can discern the true from the false.
The result has been to discredit all expert
testimony in the eyes of most jurymen. The
change which is suggested by the New York
Tribune and other journals is that all ex-
perts in a case of this kind shall be chosen by
the court itself, in order that their testimony

CHEER UP!
Mr. Hearst and his corps of missionaries have
come from New York to tell us how to run our city.
— McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune.

may be free from all possible mercenary
taint, and may have the same judicial char-
acter that the judge's charge to the jury
usually possesses. This reform is one that
the interest of the medical profession, even
more than of the legal profession, demands,
and we note that several doctors of New York
City, Edward F. Marsh and Allan Mc-
Lane Hamilton among them, are urging such
a reform. The former writes :
"In my judgment medical experts in at least

'DEMENTIA AMERICANA"

— C. R. Macauley in New York World.

484

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE PRESIDENT OF THE CARNEGIE
INSTITUTE
Mr. William Nimick Frew is a Yale graduate, a
lawyer, a bank director, president of several clubs,
and was for four years a member of the Select Coun-
cil of Pittsburg, so he is not too "academic" to suit
Mr. Carnegie.

all capital cases should be selected not by the
prosecution or the defense, but by the court ; and
they should be men who could neither be pur-
chased by wealthy criminal defendants nor moved

by public clamor, but men who are as judicial as
the judge himself. Then the term 'medical ex-
pert' will excite neither derision nor invidious
comment, punishment or acquittal will be more
speedy, taxpayers will feel that economy is the
watchword, and justice more promptly adminis-
tered."

T7NGLISH criticism is expected at all times
•'--' of methods and standards that are not
English. It is a trait that the English pa-
pers themselves recognize as peculiarly
British. In the case of the Thaw trial they
find much to censure and little to commend.
The London Express regards the trial as a
"signal proof of the utter inefficiency of
American statesmanship to evolve a practical
legal system." Law^, dignity and common
sense, it thinks, have all been w^anting. The
London Standard speaks with hearty con-
tempt (a contempt also expressed by many
American papers) for "the trash" in which
Mr. Delmas, one of Thaw's counsel, indulged
and "the gush of greasy sentiment about
Thaw's girl wife." Mr. Delmas made a new
contribution to our dictionaries in his summing
up. Speaking of Thaw's alleged insanity at
the time of the murder he suggested as a
proper name for it "dementia Americana,"
a term that has provoked many satirical re-
marks.

The disquieting thing about the case, in the
judgment of the London Telegraph, as also
of nearly all the New York papers, is "the*
mawkish desire to make a virtuous hero out
of a degenerate criminal." The London
Times thinks that such court proceedings as
were witnessed in this Thaw case are as mis-
chievous as the crime they are intended to

THE SIX MILLION DOLLAR HOME OF THE CARNEGIE INSTITUTE
Its rededication last month was the occasion of the "greatest invasion" ever seen in America of European men
of note. The building is made of marble from many lands, and not even a picture of it was seen by its founder prior
to his first inspection of it the day before the dedicatory services.

REDEDICATION OF THE CARNEGIE INSTITUTE

485

punish, and it moralizes over the revelations
as follows :

"If Thaw had been a poor man a verdict would
have been given a day or two after the jury was
impaneled. The trial brings to light facts which
explain in some degree the jealousy of great for-
tunes newly acquired. One gets a glimpse, and
not a pleasant one, of wealth without elegance or
refinement; luxury without polish, culture, or at-
traction ; much costly eating and drinking, and
fine clothes with coarse manners. The booby
millionaire is not unknown. He is generally the
successor of the self-made millionaire. He puts
with both hands into rapid circulation his in-
herited fortune. Much more mischievous and
probably more responsible for the feeling of ani-
mosity and jealousy, unmistakably strong in
America, is a class of very rich men, who seem
to know nothing of the duties of wealth or of
the graces that often come in its train, and seek
to escape sheer boredom in unrefined excitements."

* *
*
NE lone woman and 210 of the most
eminent men of Europe and Ameri-
ca made up the procession which,
on April 11, started on its digni-
fied way from the Hotel Schenley to the Car-
negie Institute in Pittsburg. The one woman
was Anna Beckwith Smith, director of a
Pittsburg school for women, and of the 210
men about forty were distinguished visitors
from Great Britain, Germany, France, Hol-
land and Belgium. One little man with
twinkling blue eyes, white hair and beard and
a ruddy, joyous countenance received a storm
of cheers as he marched along in a scholar's
cap and gown given him several years ago
by Aberdeen University. "It's Carnegie." was
the word passed along the line of .-.cctators,
and one unduly familiar member of the crowd
voiced the sentiment of about eighty million
people when he cried out irreverently, "Bully
for you, Andy!" The occasion of all this dis-
play of erudition and talent, of scholars' gowns,
ecclesiastical robes and diplomatic finery, was

THE SECRETARY OF THE CARNEGIE
INSTITUTE
Samuel Harden Church is a Litt.D., and has been a
prominent railroad official. As colonel on Governor
Hoadly's staff he handled the troops that suppressed
the riots in Cincinnati in 1884. He has published
plays, poems and histories, and he looks a good dea!
as Mr. Rockefeller did twenty years ago.

the rededication of the Carnegie Institute
building, that represents an- outlay of six mil-
lion dollars. The institution of which it forms
a part has been endowed by the erstwhile
barefooted boy of Slabtown, Allegheny City,
to the extent of $20,000,000. Mr. Carnegie
has never been an enthusiast over academic
education, and the chief object of this Car-
negie Institute is to furnish technical train-
ing. It already has 1,590 students, and there

IN THE TECHNICAL SCHOOLS OF THE CARNEGIE INSTITUTE
There are 1,590 students already in the schools and thousands more are on the waiting list. The Institute is
devoted mainly to technical training, Mr. Carnegie not being ap enthusiast on the subject of academic education.

486

CURRENT LITERATURE

THAT PEACE CONFERENCE IN NEW YORK
Peace: "Here's where I get a brainstorm! This is
the most unpeaceful place in the world to invite me.
^Walker in International Syndicate Service.

are thousands more on the waiting list. In
addition to the technical department, there
are four other departments: the library (with
250,000 volumes and room for seven times
that many), the fine arts (which the ^onor
requests shall pay attention, not to the works
of "old masters," but to the works of mod-
ern artists who may become "old masters"),
the museum and the school of music. These
four departments are housed in the new
building, which is built of marble from
many countries — Siena marble from Italy,
Pentelicon marble from Greece, Numidian
marble from Africa, Tinos marble from the
Tinos Islands. Mr. Carnegie had not seen
a picture or read a description of the build-
ing until, on April 10, he saw the glistening
edifice for the first time. It is meant not for
a local, but a national, institution, and it is
one of the most striking illustrations to be
found anywhere of that vast fund of altruism
which the world is rapidly accummulating,
and to which Benjamin Kid refers in his
"Social Evolution" as the most significant de-
velopment of modern life and the principal
factor in the molding of the world's destiny.

* *

NTO the wrinkled front of grim-
visaged war a new wrinkle of per-
plexity must have come in these
latter days. For the warriors of
peace, financed by the laird of Skibo, cheered
on by "the hero of San Juan Hill," fired by

the explosive eloquence of William T. Stead
(who, when he grows tired of turning this
world around in the hollow of his hand,
seeks recreation in communications with the
spirit-world), have declared war upon war,
and are prosecuting their campaign with en-
ergy and resolution. Within the last few years
there have been organized and are now ac-
tively at work in behalf of universal peace an
International Law Association, an Interpar-
liamentary Peace Union, a Universal Alli-
ance of Women for Peace by Education, an
International League of Liberty and Peace,
and an International Arbitration and Peace
Association; and to correlate all these and
keep them in close communication there is an
International Peace Bureau. The first Na-
tional Arbitration and Peace Conference of
America, held a few days ago in New York
City, was a sort of dress parade of an army
that has been doing much hard work and very
little parading for many years. It was an
imposing affair even on paper. Its legislative
committee consisted of ten senators, nineteen
congressmen and nine governors. Its Ju-
diciary committee numbered three members of
the United States Supreme Court, seven mem-
bers of the United States Circuit Court, and
the chief justices of twelve states. Its com-
mittee on commerce and industry contained
twenty-seven business men of note, some of
them, like John Wanamaker, George West-
inghouse, Jacob H. Schiff, Edward H. Har-
riman, Mellville E. Ingalls, known by name
from one end of the country to the other.
Lawyers, editors, labor leaders and educators
figured in abundance on other committees.
These notables are, however, the ornaments
of the cause rather than the working force,
men like Dr. Trueblood, Richard Bartholdt,
Dr. Samuel J. Barrows, Edwin D. Mead and
others who might be named forming the real
directing force of the movement.

'T'HE purpose of this national conference
■'■ was, first, to make an exhibition of popu-
lar interest in the cause on the eve of the
assembling of the second Hague Conference,
next to arouse and in some measure crystal-
lize public sentiment and strengthen the ef-
forts of America's delegates to secure certain
definite results at The Hague. One of the de-
sired results is the adoption of a model ar-
bitration treaty that will facilitate agreements
between states for the arbitration of national
disputes. Another result hoped for is the
making of The Hague Conference a perma-
nent body, sitting at stated intervals instead of

48a

CURRENT LITERATURE

waiting for a special call on the part of the
nations for its assembling. These are thoroly
practical projects, and there are others equally
practical, such as the immunity of private
property at sea in time of war. The talk of
general disarmament and the immediate es-
tablishment of an international police force
and a peace pilgrimage to The Hague is all a
part of the pyrotechnic display that every
idealistic movement engenders. The papers
of the country, v^^hose reports gave special
prominence to the few inevitable disagree-
ments among speakers and to the views of
extremists, have treated the final action of the
conference and the resolutions adopted with
marked respect and evident surprise at their
moderate and practical character. "The senti-
mentalists and the visionaries," says the New
York Times, "who were expected to control
the conference, have not controlled it." It
will be strange and regrettable, the New York
Tribune thinks, if like conventions are not held
in many places in coming years. Such con-
ferences, the Baltimore American thinks, are
even more likely than The Hague Conference
is to promote peace. But the Cleveland Plain
Dealer thinks the outlook would be more re-
assuring if there were more evidence of popu-
lar participation in the peace movement.

LL doubt of Emperor William's pur-
pose to rebuke the champions of the
cause of disarmament by discredit-
ing, if he can, the coming peace con-
ference at The Hague ended last month when
Baron Marschall von Bieberstein, his Majesty's
ambassador in Constantinople, was selected as
the chief representative of Germany in what
Mr. William T. Stead terms the parliament of
man. The Baron would seem to have no doubt
whatever of President Roosevelt's plan to com-
bine with the British Government for the cap-
ture of The Hague conference as a comforting
obstacle to Germany's further rise as a world
power. This, at any rate, is the theory of those
French dailies which take the quarrel between
Mr. Roosevelt and William H seriously. Offi-
cial Berlin, we are told, could not have thrown
its diplomatic glove into the face of official
Washington with greater defiance than the ap-
pointment of Baron Marschall von Bieberstein
proclaims. As the most influential ambassador
in the entire diplomatic corps at Constanti-
nople, the Baron is accused of having mani-
fested his dislike of all things American by
thwarting Mr. Leishman's efforts to get a little
satisfaction for our Department of State out

of the Sultan. One word from the Baron
would long since have assuaged the rigor of
the Grand Vizier's treatment of American edu-
cational and philanthropical enterprises within
the Ottoman empire. Nor did the Baron mere-
ly refrain from utterance of that one word.
He is accused of opposing the Sultan's recog-
nition of Mr. Leishman's elevation from the
rank of minister to that of ambassador with a
vehemence that amazed even the Yildiz Kiosk.

PRACTICAL effect will be given at The
*■ Hague next month to that disgust at the
presence of delegates from South America
which the Wilhelmstrasse, according to the
London National Review, cannot effectively
conceal. William II, we are told, wanted The
Hague conference to assemble last year at a
date sufficiently early to make the representa-
tion of South America, then in the throes of
the pan-American gathering, a practical im-
possibility. His Majesty's object was to pre-
vent all discussion of the collection of debts
by the kind of suasion which his squadron has
exerted more than once in the Caribbean. It
is to' the workings of Bismarckian diplomacy
at Buenos Ayres, as made known by the min-
ister of foreign affairs for the Argentine Re-
public, the now celebrated Don Luis Fernandez
Drago, that the world is indebted, according to
the Paris Temps, for the present coolness in
the relations between President Roosevelt and
William II. Washington is even affirmed to
have complained that it was placed for a time
in a false position before all South America
by the Bismarckian indirections of the Wil-
helmstrasse. For this reason, or because, as
the Paris Figaro surmises, there is insufficient
room in the firmament of The Hague for two
such constellations as the Rooseveltian and
the Hohenzollern, the conference must prove
exciting.

A GGRAVATED by the possibility that the
^*- Anglo-Saxon powers may use the confer-
ence as a sort of international demonstration
against his own militarism, William II, so
French dailies hint, will prevent, if possible,
the selection of Ambassador Nelidoff to pre-
side over the deliberations. Alexander' Ivano-
vitch Nelidoff, the diplomatist who represents
Nicholas II in the capital of the third French
republic, has been deemed hitherto the only
possible presiding officer for the polyglot as-
semblage that is to represent all the states of
the world with the exception of one central
American nation and the uninvited republic of
Liberia. Nelidoff is sixty-two, patriarchally

PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT AND EMPEROR WILLIAM AT THE HAGUE 4^9

bearded, of Homerical sublimity in aspect, an
upholder of the Slav's divine right to rule the
world, genial withal and taught by forty years
in the diplomatic service to make benevolent
allowance for such western European eccen-
tricities as liberty and the rights of man.
Nicholas II wanted to send him to Portsmouth
when President Roosevelt dashed so angelically
between Russia and Japan. Nelidoff was a
professional peacemaker long before Mr.
Roosevelt won the amateur championship of
that Nobel sport. It was Nelidoff who drafted
the famous treaty of San Stefano, Nelidoff
who acted for Russia at the Berlin conference
over which Bismarck towered, Nelidoff who
initiated the negotiations that brought about
the Dual Alliance. The sole failure of his
career is associated with the visit the Czar
would not pay to the King of Italy. Victor
Immanuel III had dropped in on Nicholas II
at St. Petersburg. Nicholas II neglected to
look up Victor Immanuel III at the Quirinal.
Nelidoff, then ambassador in Rome, could give
no satisfactory explanation. The Czar would
not come. Nelidoff had to go. He has been
Russia's ambassador in Paris throughout the
period of severest conflict between the republic
and the Vatican. Opposition to Nelidoff, as
presiding official at The Hague during the
eight or nine weeks of the international peace
conference, is based upon Emperor William's
dislike of a diplomatist who has promoted the
reconciliation of France with England and of
England with Russia. But Nelidoff is "slated,"
as we Americans say. His withdrawal or su-
persession at the last moment would indicate,
as the Vienna Zeit thinks, that something sen-
sational had transpired behind the scenes.

'X'HREE great rulers, the President of the
■'' United States, the Czar of all the Russias
and the German Emperor, are at odds over
The Hague conference, if we are to be swayed
by the gossip of newspapers in that clearing
house for diplomatic scandals, the capital of
the Hapsburgs. In inviting the powers to a
second peace conference to continue the work
of the first at The Hague, President Roosevelt,
by an act of self-effacement, which the Paris
Gaulois pronounces "unexpectedly delicate,"
left the way clear for the Czar to take the
formal initiative in the actual summons to the
delegates. Nicholas II, however, if we assume
the accuracy of Vienna's information, has not
forgiven Mr. Roosevelt. William IPs griev-
ance against the President is represented in
Vienna as even more substantial than that of
offended vanity. His Majesty was given to

understand that the United States would not
press the subject of disarmament at The
Hague. An unnamed member of the diplomatic
corps in Washington talked the subject over
with Mr. Roosevelt and received the presiden-
tial assurance that disarmament would not be
countenanced by Washington even if London
insisted upon its discussion. This information,
however accurate it may or may not have been,
seems to the Neue Freie Presse to harmonize
with the President's well-known eagerness to
add big battleships to the United States Navy,
and to whet the fighting edge of the land he
loves and uplifts.

IT IS to the influence of the new British Am-
'• bassador in Washington, James Bryce, that
continental Europe attributes a suspected mod-
ification of Roosevelt policy at The Hague.
Mr. Bryce told the President that while dis-
armament is a full-blown rose of the dim and
distant future, limitation of armaments is the
bud of the immediate present. The suggestion
might have failed of effect upon Mr. Roose-
velt, as his mind is read in Vienna, but for his
eagerness to have private property at sea ex-
empted altogether from capture in time of war.
This is a point upon which American diplomacy
has taken a consistent stand for nearly a hun-
dred years. The United States needs only
Great Britain's adhesion at The Hague with
regard to this one subject to effect a sweeping
revolution in the laws of naval warfare.
Washington has persistently, in and out of
season, urged that there is no reason why
private property (subject to strategical and
tactical necessities) be made inviolate on land
and continue to be a legitimate prey in purely
naval warfare. Great Britain's policy has been
less consistent. She agreed half a century ago
that an enemy's property should be inviolate
when carried in a neutral ship, but she reserved
her right to seize it when not covered by a
neutral flag. If Mr. Roosevelt has actually re-
vised British ideas to the extent indicated, he
has, in the unanimous opinion of well-informed
European dailies, induced the mistress of the
seas to throw away her most powerful weapon
of offense against the commerce of any nation
with which she may hereafter be at war.

"VV/HEN the final act of the last peace con-
"^ ference at The Hague was drafted, cer-
tain subjects were left over for discussion.
These alone, according to a statement supposed
to be inspired in the German press by the Ber-
lin Foreign Office for Mr. Roosevelt's benefit,
should be dealt with next month. Almost with-

490

CURRENT LITERATURE

out exception, they are subjects which the war
between Russia and Japan forced into prom-
inence. The first and most comprehensive re-
lates to the rights and duties of neutrals. Un-
der this head would come the definition of con-
traband, the treatment of belligerent ships in
neutral ports and the inviolability of the offi-
cial and private correspondence of neutrals.
On each of these three divisions of the main
subject there has developed a conflict of views,
according to the well-informed correspondent
of the Manchester Guardian, among all the
naval powers. It has been the practice of our
own government, for instance, to waive the
right of search in time of war in the case of
mail steamers. The conference, if Washington
gets its way, will strive to make this a binding
rule of international law. But most important
of all the "laid over" questions is that of con-
traband. President Roosevelt is anxious to
have made quite clear in law the distinction be-
tween "absolute" and. "conditional," which is
most vital to British interests likewise. Among
the broad general questions affecting the right
and justice of the relations between sovereign
states, which were left over for future con-
sideration in 1899, was the bombardment of
ports, towns or villages by a naval force. This,
to the South American delegates, is the grand
climacteric in the life of the conference.

NTOT one among the forty odd powers repre-
*■ ^ sented by deputy at The Hague has given
its representatives authority to decide finally
with respect to any question. Nowadays it is
the fashion to speak of ambassadors as men
at the end of a wire. The position of every
delegate to the peace conference is even less
defined. He may find himself summarily re-
called by his government, as Baron Marschall
von Bieberstein, Emperor William's chief rep-
resentative, may be, or as M. Leon Bourgeois,
the leading delegate from France, was said at
one time to have been. Anything in the nature
of a cut-and-dried program does not exist.
The Russian circular summoning the confer-
ence does, to be sure, specify that topics rel-
ative to "the limitation of military and naval
forces" shall not be discussed. But the British
Prime Minister, Sir Henry Campbell-Banner-
man, is striving, as has been noted, to have
President Roosevelt inject the disarmament
question in a disguised form. "A very distinct
breach of faith," is the comment of the Berlin
Kreuz Zeitung, inspired at second hand by
Emperor William. The British Prime Min-
ister, unmoved by the charge, affirms in the
London Nation, over his own signature, that

the original conference at The Hague vvas
convened for the purpose of raising this very
question of the limitation of armaments and
in the hope — ^not fulfilled — of arriving at an
understanding. He submits that "it is the
business of those who oppose the renewal of
the attempt to show that some special and es-
sential change of circumstances has arisen,
such as to render unnecessary, inopportune or
positively mischievous a course adopted with
general approbation" at the former conference.
"Nothing of the kind," continues Sir Henry,
"can be attempted with success."

ASA means of manifesting how deeply he
•**■ resents British agitation of the limitation
of armaments in connection with The Hague
conference. Emperor William refused to re-
ceive Mr. William T. Stead when that unoffi-
cial envoy of the Prime Minister of England
toured Europe recently. In that international
peace orchestra of which Nelidoff is the big
bass drum. Stead is allotted by the official
German press the function of a tin whistle.
The Kreuz Zeitung laughs him and his prop-
aganda to scorn. "Germany is not in a posi-
tion," it says, "to accept foreign advice as to
what she shall or shall not do. Let the other
nations achieve political happiness after their
own fashion. If they suffer from the burden
of militarism they are free to shake that bur-
den from themselves. As far as we are con-
cerned, universal liability to military service
constitutes a grand national instrument of
education." Nothing could be more discon-
certing to the same inspired daily than the
reason it sees to suspect that England and the
United States are preparing to dance arm in
arm at The Hague on the back of the Hohen-
zollem. The selection of Joseph H. Choate
to head the American delegation is pronounced
unfortunate. All the diplomatic experience of
which he can boast was gained in London as
American ambassador there. He fell so com-
pletely under the spell of Downing street that
his country, at The Hague, will weakly echo
Britain.

HTHAT most illustrious of all living antago-
nists of American diplomacy. Professor de
Martens, who is a member of the council of
the Russian ministry of foreign afifairs, and
one of the members of the permanent arbi-
tration court at The Hague, declares that no
powers but Germany, the Austro-Hungarian
monarchy and Turkey would formally object
to the discussion of armaments next month.
But against Great Britain, on the issue itself.

BONES OF CONTENTION AT THE HAGUE CONFERENCE

491

Courtesy of T^e Independent

THE PEACE PAl.ACE AT THE HAGUE
This is to be the permanent home of the Pejice Conference, the money for its erection having been con-
tributed by Mr. Carnegie. It will not, of course, be ready for the meeting of the Conference next June.

says the London Outlook, will be perhaps Rus-
sia, Germany, Japan and Austria. "France,
from the necessities of her position next to
Germany, whose population exceeds hers by
twenty millions, will be forced for once to be
on the German side." However, the Min-
ister of Foreign Affairs in Berlin, Herr von
Tschirschsky, "a man whose word, tho dif-
ficult to obtain, once given, may be absolutely
relied upon," assured Mr. Stead that Germany
will support any "practical" measure the
British Government may bring forward at The -
Hague for the maintenance of peace. Two
suggestions are urged upon the friends of ar-
bitration by the Anglo-Saxon group — includ-
ing, it is said, Mr. Andrew Carnegie — whom
German dailies accuse of trying to "capture"
the conference. One is that the poyr^rs maHe

obligatory that article of The Hague conven-
tion advising that before the sword is drawn
disputants place their respective cases in the
hands of neutral friends, who shall act as
peacemakers and who, for a period not exceed-
ing thirty days, shall confer together with the
object of averting a war. "If this were made
obligatory," insists Mr. Stead, "any power
which appealed to arms before invoking the
intervention of such peacemakers or consent-
ing to refer the dispute to a commission of
inquiry ought to be declared an enemy of the
human race and subjected to a financial and
commercial boycott by all the other powers."
If this principle had been accepted in 1899, he
adds, the world might have been spared the
war in South Africa and the war between
Russia and Japan.

492

CURRENT LITERATURE

ANOTHER suggestion for which Mr. Stead
makes himself responsible — and which, it
is inferred as a consequence, is endorsed by
the British Prime Minister — is that at The
Hague the powers formally undertake the
active propaganda of peace, of internationalism
and of "the brotherhood of the peoples" in-
stead of leaving this task to be performed by
private individuals or societies. "As a corol-
lary to this," proceeds Mr. Stead, "the con-
ference should recommend to the signatory
powers the creation by each of a peace budget
for the purpose of carrying on this work, the
amount of which should bear a definite fixed
proportion to the expenditure on the war bud-
get of, say, decimal one per cent., which would
mean five dollars for promoting peace for
every five thousand dollars spent in preparing
for war." All this to the Suddeutsche Reichs-
correspondenz, organ of the imperial German
chancellor, is "preposterous." Mr. Stead, and
more particularly the men behind him, are util-
izing The Hague conference for "the isolation
or moral exposure of a single power — that is
to say, Germany — as an obstacle to a general
reduction of military burdens." Even the or-
gan of the Paris Foreign Office, The Temps,
takes up the cudgels against persons whom it
styles "the indiscreet British friends of uni-
versal peace," who are making their cause
ridiculous. "Let international law be dealt
with at The Hague," it says. "But let no fur-
ther promise be made, for it will not be kept."
The Rome Tribuna, supposed to speak with
official inspiration, says Italy will not support
any proposition to discuss a limitation of
armaments.

A VERY circumstantial narrative of recent
^~^ efforts made by the Vatican to seat its
representative among the delegates at The
Hague, as printed in the Paris Eclair and
other dailies, would indicate that France has
insisted upon the exclusion of the Pope. Pius
X keeps in close touch with the subject. The
nuncio in Spain reported Alfonso XHI eager
for the presence of a papal diplomatist at the
peace conference. The Emperor-King of Aus-
tria-Hungary, as the leading Roman Catholic
sovereign of the world, personally communi-
cated with Emperor William on the subject.
The German ruler would seem to have wel-
comed the suggestion, but refused to interest
himself actively because of the possible effect
upon the elections then pending throughout
the empire. The Queen mother of Italy se-
cured the benevolent neutrality of her son.
Matters are said to have gone so far that his

Holiness actually selected the Vatican eccle-
siastic to be dispatched to The Hague when
the French ambassador in Paris got wind of
the proceedings — supposed to be secret — and
revealed the plan to his government. "An-
other instance of the ill luck that has dogged
Vatican diplomacy," says the Genoa Secolo,
"since Rampolla ceased to be pontifical secre-
tary of state." The Clemenceau ministry
caused the chancelleries of Europe to be in-
formed— at least so the story goes — that the
delegates of the French republic would be
withdrawn from The Hague the moment a
Vatican ecclesiastic became a member of the
conference.

* *

Ig^UT FOR the prominence given to
y^ President Roosevelt in the docu-
ments seized at the papal nunciature
in Paris by order of Premier Clem-
enceau, Americans might feel but a languid in-
terest in the diary and correspondence of Mon-
signor Montagnini. This Vatican diplomatist
is said to have satisfied himself that Washing-
ton could be induced to send a Roman Catholic
to Paris in the capacity of American ambassa-
dor to the French Republic. The Vatican was
to reciprocate by making the Monroe Doctrine
more palatable in the capitals of those South
American republics at which a nuncio is re-
ceived. Monsignor Montagnini was greatly
disconcerted when President Roosevelt sent
Mr. Henry White to Paris as the diplomatic
representative of this country. Mr. White,
during his period of service as ambassador in
Rome, was too satisfactory to the Quirinal to
please the Vatican. Received in audience by
President Fallieres a few weeks since, Mr.
White was sufficiently tactless, from a clerical
point of view, to use words implying that
America is on the side of France in the war
with the Pope. "France and the United
States," observed Mr. White in the course of
his reception, with military honors, at the
Elysee, "which represent, one in the Old, the
other in the New World, the noblest aspirations
of mankind, and which are endeavoring, each
by its own methods, to realize those ideals,
would be unworthy of their high mission and
would be false to the duties incumbent upon
them if they were not always united in the
same efforts to preserve the peace of the world,
ameliorate the lot of the great majority and
elevate the ideal of justice which every man
ought to carry within himself." This, accord-
ing to the Paris Action, implies too much s)rm-
pathy between the government of the great re-

WASHINGTON, THE VATICAN AND THE MONTAGNINI PAPERS 493

public and the government of the "atheistic"
republic to be wholly palatable to the Vatican.
No wonder, adds our French contemporary,
papal diplomacy exerted itself to prevent the
appointment of Mr. White to Paris.

V/'ET all these insinuations with reference to
■*• Monsignor Montagnini, the Monroe Doc-
trine, Ambassador White and President Roose-
velt, asserts the clerical Gaulois, are false.
"The contents of the Montagnini papers, in
the bulk, have not been and are not likely to
be made public. This opens the door for a
number of enterprising and not over-scrupu-
lous newspapers to publish unauthorized ver-
sions of what the papal representative's ar-
chives did (or more probably did not) con-
tain." Nevertheless, anticlerical dailies like
the one inspired by Premier Clemenceau him-
self, to say nothing of the paper edited by the
Socialist leader Jaures, say Monsignor Mon-
tagnini was planning with some American
Roman Catholics for the reception in the im-
mediate future of a papal nuncio at Washing-
ton. President Roosevelt, according to still
other versons of what is contained in the Mon-
tagnini papers, is uneasy at the "moral influ-
ence" of Spain in South America. The en-
thusiasm in Bogota, in Valparaiso, in Rio Jan-
eiro and in Buenos Ayres for an Iberian con-
federation under the tutelage, of Madrid has
disposed Mr. Roosevelt to imitate Emperor
William by securing the aid of the Vatican in
the southern portion of our hemisphere. The
Pope and the President corresponded directly
when the United States intervened in Panama.
The result was that clerical influence was on
the side of the United States when the Colom-
bian Government protested against American
activities on the isthmus. It is significant,
points out a writer in the Action, that anti-
clerical opinion in South America, when it
sways the government of any republic in that
continent, is hostile to Washington. Mr.
Roosevelt's treatment of the friars in the
Philippines is held responsible for this fact.
In all the Spanish republics there are strug-
gles of which the land question in the Philip-
pines was typical. The Washington Govern-
ment, we are assured by French anticlerical
organs, affronted the liberal element in South
America by paying for the friars' lands. Ven-
ezuelan, Bolivian and Peruvian presidents
never negotiate for real estate with ecclesi-
astics on a cash basis. The Pope's apprecia-
tions of Mr. Roosevelt's magnanimity in the
Philippines must be taken, we are informed,
as gentle hints to South America.

IN THE course of his negotiations with the
Vatican, President Roosevelt would seem to
have inflicted one gross affront upon it. So
much is clear in such extracts from the Mon-
tagnini papers as were given in anticlerical
sources of information a fortnight ago. They
take us back to the time when papal diplo-
matists hoped that the question of the friars
in the Philippines might be prolonged for
years so as to occasion the establishment of
something like permanent ambassadorial rela-
tions between this country and the Vatican.
William H. Taft, then civil governor of the
islands, had received a series of written in-
structions from Elihu Root, then Secretary of
War, in which occurred these words : "One of
the controlling principles of our government
is the complete separation of church and state,
with the entire freedom of each from any con-
trol or interference by the other. This prin-
ciple is imperative wherever American juris-
diction extends, and no modification or shad-
ing thereof can be a subject of discussion."
Such language is now affirmed to have been
highly unpalatable to Cardinal Rampolla, at
that time dictator of Vatican policy. But no
offense would have been taken if the Wash-
ington Government had not authorized the
publication of these instructions. The strug-
gle between church and state in France had
recently entered its acute phase. The anti-
clerical press in Paris did not lose the oppor-
tunity afforded by the publication of the in-
structions to Mr. Taft to point out that Wash-
ington had openly flouted the famous syllabus
of Pius IX. So the Paris Action expounds
the situation. The Vatican felt that Pres-
ident Roosevelt's delegate had put a weapon
into the arsenal of anticlericalism throughout
France, Spain and Italy.

rVEN the cardinal's hat that Archbishop
*--' Ireland, of St. Paul, might be wearing to-
day if the late Pope had lived a year longer
figures in the gossip inspired by the innumer-
able versions of the Montagnini papers ap-
pearing in the Paris press. The late Pope, it
seems, had been led to believe that President
McKinley would send Archbishop Ireland to
The Hague to represent the United States at
the first peace conference. This turned out
to be a misapprehension on somebody's part.
The Vatican had likewise been led to hope, if
not to expect, that Archbishop Ireland had
sufficient influence with President McKinley to
persuade him to invite the Pope's mediation on
the eve of our war with Spain. This, too,
turned out to have been a misapprehension on

494

CURRENT LITERATURE

somebody's part. The Archbishop's prestige
has never wholly recovered from these blows.
The idea that he may be made a cardinal dur-
ing the present pontificate is pronounced pre-
posterous. The effort of Archbishop Ireland's
friends to take, advantage of the audience
granted by the Pope to a sister of President
Roosevelt last month did not promote the en-
try of that prelate into the sacred college.
The story is that Bishop O'Gorman, of Sioux
Falls, in presenting Mrs. Douglas Robinson to
his Holiness, said something about the pleas-
ure with which the American people would
witness -the elevation of his Grace to the rank
of his Eminence. The President's sister inter-
rupted. "No politics !" she is represented as
exclaiming in the French language, "no pol-
itics !" The Pope does not understand French,
or, rather, he does not speak that language;
but his Italian intuition enabled him, no doubt,
to understand what Mrs. Robinson meant him
to understand. The Montagnini papers are
alleged to make it clear that Archbishop Ire-
land will never enter the college of cardinals
unless the Washington Government officially
asks the Vatican to seat him there.

jVAOST convincing of all the revelations in
''^^ the Montagnini papers is the evidence
they afford that the French bishops were in
favor of conciliating the Clemenceau ministry
on the subject of separation of church and
state, but were urged to resist the law by the
Vatican. London Truth claims to know this
much on the highest authority. "The papers,"
it affirms, "are really most compromising to
the papal secretary of state and to the papal
court." "So compromising are they," adds
this British weekly, "and so clear do they
make it that the French ecclesiastical hier-
archy were acting under orders and in defi-
ance of the advice of several of their own
most eminent members that it is probable large
concessions will be accepted on condition that
they are not published." Among them are
said to be documents relating to Monsignor
Montagnini's efforts to prevent the King of
Spain from visiting Paris. Nevertheless, the
official organ of the Vatican, the Osservatore
Romano, says it is authorized to declare "in
the most formal and explicit manner," that the
particulars given in the Petite Repuhlique and
other Paris dailies of the contents of the Mon-
tagnini documents are "absolutely false and
calumnious." The Vatican organ likewise
gives an official denial to "the pretended rev-
elations" of the Matin. "The object of these
and similar inventions," we are told, "is plain-

ly to create distrust between Catholic peoples
and the Holy See." When Monsignor Mon-
tagnini was first expelled from Paris, not long
ago, he assured Cardinal Merry del Val, papal
secretary of state, that "nothing disagreeable"
could result from the publication of his seized
papers. Summoned again last month to the
Cardinal's presence, says the Matin, he was
asked once more whether there were other
compromising papers among his archives.
Monsignor Montagnini persisted in declaring
that there were none. Anything that might
be published, he said, would be either garbled
or false. As evidence of its confidence in
Monsignor Montagnini, the Vatican, it is de-
clared, will shortly send him on an important
mission to one of the Latin powers.

IVE brothers named Fischer so ade-
quately incarnate the economic fac-
tor in last month's bloody Rumanian
insurrection that a knowledge of
who and what they are makes evident why the
subjects of King Charles burned landlords in
oil, marched by thousands upon Bucharest,
plundered the estates of the nobility and
spread panic among the Jews. These Fischers,
who are of comparatively humble Jewish ori-
gin, have made a large fortune by the invest-
ment of an originally modest patrimony in the
vast estates <yi thriftless and luxurious Mol-
davian and Wallachian aristocrats. Rumanian
landed proprietors give themselves the title of
prince, they are vain of their descent from the
royal dynasty of Trebizonde, and they are
much given to luxurious rioting at Bucharest
and Paris. Their need of ready money was
chronic until the five Fischer brothers ac-
quired, by a system of leases, so many thou-
sands of their acres as to become the great
territorial despots of the realm. The princes
never took any interest whatever in the bet-
terment of the lot of the peasants upon their
immense estates. When the Fischers, know-
ing nothing of agriculture, but determined to
make all they could out of their leases before
they ran out, began subletting to the rural
population, Moldavia and Wallachia became
what France was when so many subjects of
Louis XVI took to a grass diet. What the
Fischers leased from Prince Brancovan, one
of the ornaments of the Court at Bucharest,
for five dollars an acre, they sublet to an illit-
erate peasant for fifteen dollars an acre. Noth-
ing was done to improve the land itself. The
cultivators of the soil raised good crops, but
nothing was left after the Fischers were paid.

PEASANT UPRISINGS IN RUMANIA

495

/^PERATING sometimes in subordination
^^ to the Fischers and sometimes independ-
ently of them were cliques of Bulgarian, Greek
and other foreign financiers who, under the
lease system, control about half the cultivable
land of Rumania. Grain was raised for ex-
port by an intensive system of agriculture that
forced the small holder to work on the big
estates or starve. Pellagra, a disease caused
by an ihsufificient diet of unripe maize, raged
among the peasants. Altho, for nearly a gen-
eration, the native Rumanians of the laboring
class have ceased to be serfs in the eyes of the
law, they remain illiterate, ignorant of the
rudiments of modern scientific farming and
hopelessly impoverished. The Fischers and
their like, upheld by the Pherekydes, the Stir-
beis, the Brancovans and other great families,
devoured Wallachia and Moldavia until King
Charles, who is an able and in many ways a
progressive monarch, was moved to protest.
The King, however, was not supported by his
premier, who, until the recent outbreak, was
Prince Cantacuzene, himself the owner of a
vast estate exploited on the Fischer system,
altho his conservative followers represent
him as the guide, philosopher and friend of
hungry Rumanians. King and premier were
still in dispute over a measure that would
have terminated the worst abuses when
word reached the capital that forty thou-
sand peasants in Moldavia were plunder-
ing castles, sewing patrician dames in
sacks to make their drovming sure and steep-
ing rent collectors in vats of lighted petroleum.
Rumania, in another week, had entered the
most furious phase of what is known in Europe
as a jacquerie, Jacques being the generic
French name applied to a peasant in insurrec-
tion. The Rumanian rebels plundered the
houses of Jews, not because their rising was
primarily anti-Semitic, but on account of the
religious affiliations of the Fischers and their
like.

XTO TIME was lost by the king in getting
*■ ^ rid of Cantacuzene, who gave way to the
statesman by whom President Roosevelt was
severely criticized when Washington officially
objected to the treatment of Rumanian Jews —
Demeter Sturdza. This white-haired, red-
faced little man is said to be one of the ablest
politicians in Europe. Thanks to his advice
and sympathy during many troublous years,
King Charles has been enabled to make Ru-
mania the only well-governed state in the Bal-
kans. Sturdza suppressed the heaviest forms
of rural taxation, decreed that the large estates

shall be cultivated by the government or leased
directly to the peasants, and put the Fischers
out of business by limiting the acreage to
which their methods may be legally applied.
Sturdza was baffled at first by the readiness of
the troops to join in lootings and burnings
which left the fields of Moldavia so cumbered
with the slain that artillery had to be dragged
over crackling bones. The rising was now
losing its original agrarian character, owing
to the energies of anarchist agitators who
spread reports that King Charles was dead,
and of university students who went about the
country on bicycles distributing revolutionary
leaflets to the peasants. "Professors, school-
masters and even priests," says the Bucharest
correspondent of the Vienna Neue Freie
Presse, "placed themselves at the head of ma-
rauding gangs." But to the Paris Temps it is
only surprising that the day of retribution for
the profligate nobility of Rumania has been
so long delayed. "Deplorable and barbarous
as the popular excesses have been, it must be
borne in mind that the neglected condition of
these unhappy people and the oppression to
which they have been subjected amply justify
their bitterest resentment." Had it not been
for the personal popularity of the King with
the masses of his subjects, affirms the Rome
Tribuna, the revolt must have become a revo-
lution.

JUST a year ago, King Charles I, the invalid
monarch of Rumania, celebrated with much
pomp the fortieth anniversary of his reign.
Like King Haakon, of Norway, King Charles
was called to his throne by an overwhelming
popular vote, subsequently confirmed by the
national parliament. He is a Hohenzollern,
which means that he looks at governmental
problems from the soldier's point of view; but
he resembles his kinsman, the German Em-
peror, in the intellectual hospitality accorded
by his medieval mind to modern ideas. He
has the Hohenzollern impatience with govern-
ment by a ministry responsible to the people's
deputies. He got on so badly with the suc-
cession of cabinets in Rumania during the
formative years of his reign that he resolved
to abdicate. Then it was that Demeter
Sturdza, the illustrious statesman of the Bal-
kans, who became Prime Minister a few weeks
ago, won the lasting gratitude of King Charles.
Sturdza, the greatest figure in a national as-
sembly distracted by feuds among the terri-
torial magnates, forced a compromise on a
sensitive but secondary point of prerogative.
The King's gratitude has enabled him to get

496

CURRENT LITERATURE

"THE HARDEST MAN TO WORK WITH THAT
EVER LIVED"
Lord Cromer, who is retiring from the position of
practical ruler of Eg^pt, after more than twenty years
of •brilliant achievement, has been thus characterized
by a well-known writer in the Paris Temps. But
there is no doubt whatever of the brilliance of Lord
Cromer's administrative genius.

along with Sturdza when very few native Ru-
manians could accomplish that miracle. The
present premier, in fact, altho gifted as an
administrator, brilliant as an orator, upright
in statesmanship and supremely influential
with the liberal element in the land, is as hard
to get along with as Lord Cromer, the illus-
trious proconsul of Britain in Egypt, who re-
signed last month. On one point regarding
Sturdza, however, all European press com-
mentators agree. He is the only man in Ru-
mania who can face the task of pacification
now confronting him without the certainty of
failure.

PERSONALITY more disagree-
able and an administrative genius
more brilliant than are possessed
by Lord Cromer, who last month
ceased to be the ruler of Egypt, are seldom
united in the same mortal. Abrupt in man-
ner, gruff of speech, exclusive from instinct,
the big and florid Lord Cromer made him-
self not only hateful to the Khedive, but de-
tested by the English in Egypt themselves.

Technically, Lord Cromer never was the ruler
of Egypt at all. His official title was sim-
ply that of "agent and consul-general" in
Cairo, privileged, in that capacity, to "ad-
vise" Abbas H. The young Khedive was im-
pulsive enough to let Lord Cromer understand
that when the advice of the British agent and
consul-general was wanted it would be asked
for. His Highness was made to grasp the
real significance of his Lordship's presence in
the land by a process so peremptory that the
Khedive is alleged to have shed tears of rage.
Egypt is technically a portion of the do-
minions of the Sultan of Turkey, and Abbas
is technically a vassal of Abdul Hamid. It
was the business of Lord Cromer to trans-
form Egypt into an integral portion of the
British Empire in all but name. He found
the country lawless, famished, insolvent and
disease-ridden. Egypt to-day is enjoying am-
ple revenues, her fellaheen, no longer ex-
ploited by ravaging pashas, are putting money
in the savings banks, the plague is stamped
out, the slave traffic has ceased, the Sudan is
pacified, the waters of the Nile are distributed
everywhere by the most magnificent system
of irrigation the world has ever seen, and the
European may wander at will about Cairo as
safely as if he were in London. In work-
ing these wonders Lord Cromer has made
himself one of the most detested men in the
British Empire.

I ORD CROMER rendered himself hateful
■*— ' to the concession hunters by taxing their
franchises, hateful to the pashas by emanci-
pating the fellaheen from their disguised
agrarian servitude, hateful to English younger
sons eager for careers by putting natives into
posts of supreme responsibility, hateful to
the cosmopolitan tourist element by closing
the worst dens in Cairo, and hateful to the
financiers by his summary dealings with
rapacious bondholders. Of what is called
suavity his Lordship has no conception, while
his lack of the sense of humor is affirmed to
be positively painful. On the other hand, he
never, it is said on good authority, broke a
promise in his life, his administration has
been incorruptible and he has made the
Egyptian masses more prosperous than they
have ever been in their history. Lord
Cromer had the ill luck, according to one
story about him in the London press, to incur
the enmity of an exalted royal personage. It
is an open secret that King Edward will wit-
ness his Lordship's departure from Cairo
without regret. Lord Cromer, unlike our own

GREAT BRITAIN'S COLONIAL CONFERENCE

497

great proconsul, William H. Taft, has always
been a martinet on the subject of regular
attendance at church. In high silk hat and
long frock coat, Lord Cromer went through
the fiercest heats of Cairo every Sunday to
attend the Anglican chapel. His subordi-
nates were expected to profit by so lofty an ex-
ample. Even the great Kitchener — whom
Lord Cromer started on his brilliant career —
had to go to church while he lived in Cairo.
London had long ceased trying to bring Lord
Cromer into anything like subjection to itself.
The late Lord Salisbury is quoted in the
Figaro as having said to a member of the
ministry who complained that Cromer had
told him to go to the devil : "Dear me ! He
tells me that every time he comes to Lon-
don." Lord Cromer is succeeded by Sir El-
don Gorst, who, while neither so able nor so
disagreeable as Lord Cromer, is very able
and very disagreeable, and may grow more
so as his Egyptian experience develops.

]VEN Doctor Jameson, that hero of
the famous South African raid who
now Prime .Minister of Cape
Colony, was welcomed to England
with an outburst less enthusiastic than
greeted the arrival in London last month of
General Botha, once leader of the Boer
army, but to-day the first Prime Minister of
the Transvaal. The general at once became
the great personage of the colonial confer-
ence from which, the London Standard
thinks, may emerge a rudimentary federal
constitution for a sort of United States of
Great Britain. An effort to give this gath-
ering an anti-American tendency has already
been made by Sir Robert Bond, Prime Minis-
ter of Newfoundland, who arrived in a spirit
of profound hostility to the fishermen of
Massachusetts Bay. The Canadian prime
minister. Sir Wilfrid Laurier, reached Lon-
don barely in time to take part in the open-
ing sessions, at which he made known his view
that the ideal of the conference should be
free trade between all parts of the British
Empire. This, as the London Tribune thinks,
is a proposition fraught with possibilites of in-
finite damage to the commercial interests of
the United States. However, Sir Wilfrid ac-
knowledged that his ideal of free trade is un-
attainable. He refused absolutely to bind
Canada to contribute anything to the main-
tenance of the British navy, altho he made
no objection to the principle of voluntary
contributions from the Dominion treasury for

A SOLDIER KING AND HIS POET QUEEN
Charles I of Rumania is not less remarkable for
the ability with which he has made the land he rules
the best governed state in the Balkans than is Carmen
Sylva, the benevolent consort of this Hohenzollern, for
her poetic gifts.

that purpose. "Canada," said he, "would not
consent to be drawn within the vortex of
European militarism." Mr. Alfred Deakin,
prime minister of Australia, expressed his
general agreement with these views. All the
prime ministers wish the colonial conference
to become an "imperial conference" — a step
in the direction of a British federal congress
like our own.

WO weeks had not elapsed from the
night of the first dinner given in
f some years by Nicholas II to the
diplomatists at his court when last
month's story that the Czar was stricken with
paralysis appeared in a few French and Eng-
lish dailies. His Majesty, we are invited to
believe, has succumbed to that acute form of
melancholia in which the will-power is gone,
the mental anguish is insupportable and all
control over thought or action is lost. Among
the Czar's symptoms is said to be a great dis-
order of the digestion. It can not be said that
these stories are taken very seriously, but they
are forwarded by St. Petersburg correspond-
ents who, as the Independance Beige (Brus-

498

CURRENT LITERATURE

sels) observes, are in touch with what is going
on at Tsarskoe Selo. Nothing could be more
unfortunate, says the Paris Temps, with ref-
erence to this sensational story, than the se-
clusion in which Nicholas II is forced to live.
If the accounts of the Czar's condition be in-
vented, they have at least the merit, says the
French daily, of fitting all the definitely ascer-
tained facts of his situation. The diplomatist
who accompanied the Czar's mother to Lon-
don when that august lady visited her sister,
the Queen of England, six weeks ago, denies
the rumors of acute melancholia. In the face
of that denial was printed a rumor that the
Empress Dowager had apprised Queen Alex-
andra that a regency is impending in Russia.

A S THE foreign relations of Russia are
■**• believed in Europe to be controlled by the
Czar's mother, much importance is attached to
her open endeavors to effect an alliance, or,
at any rate, an agreement, between London
and St. Petersburg. At an audience granted
by her to Sir Arthur Nicolson, King Ed-
ward's ambassador in St. Petersburg, just be-
fore she went to see her sister, it transpired,
according to the London Times, that the An-
glo-Russian pact is to be a most comprehen-
sive one. Mr. Isvolsky, the Russian minister
of foreign affairs, who is known to owe his
post to the influence of the Czar's mother, was
putting the finiohing touches to the treaty last
month. Count Benckendorf, Russian ambas-
sador in London, and M. Bompard, French
ambassador in St. Petersburg, are said to have
received the personal assurance of the Czar's
mother that the Duma will be dissolved before
very long. The court party is said to fear
that stories of the Czar's ill health may cause
the deputies to interfere in some way or other
with the executive administration. Professor
Kovalevsky's organ, the Telegraf, was sup-
pressed for saying among other things that if
Russia is to become a constitutional nation its
legislative power should be brought into more
intimate relations with the ruler.

TTHE Duma, forced to find temporary quar-
■'■ ters until the collapsed ceiling in the Tau-
ride Palace is repaired, was distracted all last
month by a series of disputes between Prime
Minister Stolypin and President Golovin.
When Stolypin rose to speak on a motion con-
demning what are styled murders under the
form of administrative procedure, Golovin or-
dered him to sit down. The prime minister

was disposed to protest, but had perforce to
submit in preference to being howled down.
He is now, according to Mr. Krushevan, the
well-known anti-Semite leader in the Duma,
so convinced of his inability to control the
deputies as to be striving for their dispersal
with as little delay as possible. Stolypin is
annoyed because the Duma is trying to expel
all members whose election was secured by
intimidation. He instigated the commandant
of the Tauride Palace, a military man who was
aide-de-camp to Kuropatkin in Manchuria, to
prevent conferences of deputies in the lobbies.
These informal gatherings gave rise to dis-
cussions among the peasant members in which
representatives of the press occasionally par-
ticipated. The commandant of the Tauride
Palace was sternly taken to task by President
Golovin. This led to another dispute between
the presiding official of the Duma and the
prime minister, the relations between the pair
being at present, it seems, considerably
strained. Golovin himself is satisfied that the
early dissolution of the Duma has been de-
cided upon at court. "Nothing short of a
miracle," he is quoted as having declared, "can
avert the catastrophe." This was within a
week after Stolypin had aflirmed to the Duma
that Russia must be transformed into a con-
stitutional state.

^UNNINGLY devised as were Stolypin's
^^ measures for the exclusion from this new
Duma of all potential Mirabeaus and Dantons,
the prime minister appears, after the past six
weeks of legislative activity, surprised and
baffled by the parliamentary talent opposed to
him. Alexinsky, for instance, the social dem-
ocrat who is indebted for his seat to the fac-
tory hands of St. Petersburg, proved not
merely effective as a speaker, but a thoro mas-
ter of his facts, when he got up to expose the
participation of bureaucrats in the efforts of
local manufacturers to keep down wages.
Alexinsky insisted that the government ought
to provide employment for the thousands of
men now out of work in the Czar's capital
owing to the industrial crisis. The minister
of commerce and industry, that Mr. Filo-
sofoff who is so often accused of wishing to
dissolve the Duma at the point of the bayonet,
professed willingness to inquire into the causes
of proletarian distress, but he repudiated the
theory that it is the business of the govern-
ment to relieve that distress. In the acrimony
of the dispute that ensued was heard for the
first time some insinuation regarding money
given by courtiers to pliable deputies. This

THE NEW DUMA AND ITS STRUGGLE FOR LIFE

A99

THE DUMA LISTENING TO PRIME MINISTER STOLYPIN'S DECLARATION THAT RUSSIA IS TO

BECOME A CONSTITUTIONAL STATE

The deputies are seated in the Lall of the council of state, to which they had to repair when the ceiling of
their chamber in the Tauride Palace collapsed recently. The Prime Minister is standing in one of the tribunes.
Golovin is seated in the presidential chair, while the radical element or "Left" faces the spectator. The Mod-
erates, including the Constitutional Democrats, occupy the center seats.

subject is involved in much mystery. That
hater of all Jev^s, Deputy Krushevan of Kish-
ineff, may yet be expelled from the Duma in
consequence of this scandal. He is a small
red-faced man with a short beard and a
gigantic mustache and protruding eyes that
have humorous gleams when he denounces, in
the course of an anti-Jewish harangue, the
outrages inflicted upon the Christians in his
constituency by those whom he describes as
lineal descendants of the impenitent thief on
the cross.

A PART from Rodichefif, who sat in the
■**• old Duma and established his reputation
there as perhaps the most eloquent of living
Russians, the only parliamentary orator of
first-class capacity yet revealed by the debates
seems to be Deputy Teslenko of Moscow. He
has practised law in that city long enough to
become familiar with all the involutions of
what is known throughout Russia as "admin-
istrative procedure." This is a technical term

for the practice of dragging men from their
beds at midnight and sending them to Siberia,
there to learn, after the lapse of months, the
nature of the charge against them. Teslenko
made the finest speech to which the new Duma
has yet listened when he dealt with what go
by the name of "field courts martial." These
institutions embrace various exceptional • dis-
pensations which enable local authorities to
exercise arbitrary powers very often in defi-
ance of the law and even of the central ex-
ecutive. Teslenko wrung from Stolypin, amid
a scene of such violence that Golovin lost all
control of the house, a pledge that the system
of field courts martial would be allowed to'
lapse this very month. The government, ex-
plained the prime minister, had had to resort
to a terrible but indispensable remedy. Were
the circumstances calling for these exceptional
measures no longer existent? He could not
answer in the affirmative, notwithstanding
Teslenko's accounts 'of men stabbed to death
while they slept and women made the victims

500

CURRENT LITERATURE

"THE BEST MATED COUPLE IN EURurE"
Prime Minister Stolypin, of Russia, and his wife are thus referred to in the Paris Figaro. They have six
children, two of whom nearly lost their lives in the dynamite bomb tragedy at the Prime Mmister s of-
ficial residence some months ago.

of a judicial white slave traffic. There is to
be no abatement of the evil, in spite of Mr.
Stolypin's pledge, according to that well-
known journalist, Peter Strouve, who sits for
a St. Petersburg constituency, and is one of
the leaders of the Constitutional Democrats.
Strouve is accusing the Prime Minister of
complicity in a palace intrigue to get rid of
the Duma for at least five years.

BITUARY literature more glowing
than that to which the dramatic
death, a few weeks ago, of the most
eminent of modern men of science,
Marcelin Berthelot, has given rise, has scarce-
ly appeared in European newspapers since the
passing of Victor Hugo. Tho his distinc-
tion was won mainly by researches into the
abstrusities of organic and thermo-dynamic
chemistry, "the compelling blaze of his genius,"
to quote the Dehats, was clearly perceived in
his own day by all. Long after Theodore
Roosevelt has been forgotten, adds the Vienna
Zeit, and when all memory of William II has
faded from the memory of men, the discoveries
of Berthelot, not alone as scientist, but as
supreme intellect of the age we live in, will

win him a place in the estimation of posterity
higher than that accorded to any living figure
in religion, politics, science or art. "By means
of chemical synthesis," said Minister of Edu-
cation Briand, at the impressive public funeral
of Berthelot, "he reproduced natural sub-
stances and created every day a number of
compounds which Nature never knew. He
went so far as to declare that the hypothesis
of a vital force is not necessary to science. He
proved that organic and inorganic chemical
laws are identical." The facility of his as-
similative faculty, says the London Times, re-
called that of the great thinkers and men of
action of the Renaissance, who boxed the com-
pass of the knowledge of their time. "He
passed from his laboratory to his seat in the
Senate, and from a session of the French
Academy or of the Academy of Medicine to his
post on the ministerial bench in the Chamber
of Deputies, with the same integral mastery of
his intelligence, the same philosophically well
classified and ready mind." Brilliant as poli-
tician, as physician, as chemist, as author and
as metaphysician, his taking off, as the Temps
observes, was "an idyll" in itself. His wife had
been an invalid for months. Entering her
room, he found her dead. The shock killed him.

Persons in the Foreground

CARNEGIE ON THE VERGE OF SEVENTY

HEN I become ^n old man, the
memory of this evening will be one
of the pleasantest of my life." It
was Andrew Carnegie who made
that remark a few evenings ago to the guests
who had assembled at his palatial home to dis-
cuss the subject of industrial peace. It was a
notable gathering, in which labor leaders in
sack coats, not overly clean ones either in some
cases, brushed up against wealthy magnates
like Belmont and Schiff in spick-and-span
dress-suits. There were ex-cabinet members,
high ecclesiastical officials (including an arch-
bishop), editors of national reputation, mer-
chants of continental importance; but there
was no sight as interesting as that of Mr. Car-
negie himself, with his radiant face, his quick
interest in everything and his ready sense of
humor. "When I become an old man !" He
laughed as he said it, and when he laughs
everyone else laughs with him. In a few
more months he will celebrate his seventieth
birthday; but it will take many a birthday yet
to make him an old man. We make that sort
of remark to some people just to be gracious
to them. But one doesn't say it to Carnegie,
it seems so utterly needless. His hair and
beard are white; but there is nothing else
to suggest old age.

It was worth while on that evening to watch
the labor leaders when Carnegie made his
speech of welcome. They were not looking
quite at home. There was a rather set and
hard expression on their faces and in their
poise, as of men who were not to be caught
with fine words and sentiments. But as soon
as Carnegie began speaking their features be-
gan softening, and he soon had them manifest-
ing every visible appearance of delight and
approbation. And when he remarked that his
experience with labor troubles had shown him
that they very seldom come over a question of
wages, but are usually the result of the men's
simple desire for recognition of their right
to act together as an organization, one of
the labor leaders standing near the writer
turned around to another with his face
wreathed in smiles and remarked: "He
made a home-run that time all right." "You
bet," was the quick response. Perhaps Mr.
Carnegie was thinking of the Hqmestead strike,

where the whole deplorable row might have
been averted but for Frick's decision not to
recognize the union and to receive the men as
individuals only.

It is hard to tell anything about Mr. Car-
negie that is new; but it is also hard to tell
anything that is not interesting, even if you
have heard it ten times before. His coat-
of-arms, for instance, has been often described,
but it is well .worth another description. He
devised it himself, and it tells a great deal'
about the man. Upon the escutcheon is a
weaver's shuttle, because his father was a
weaver. "There is fine humor in the thought,"
remarks one magazine writer, "that steam ma-
chinery took away young Andrew Carnegie's
livelihood and drove him overseas to Pitts-
burg. It is like the man in the Eastern tale,
whose enemy sent a jinn to destroy him, but
who mastered the jinn instead and made it
give him dominion over the whole world."
There is also on the escutcheon a shoemaker's
knife, because his grandfather made shoes. It
was that grandfather who wrote an essay on
"Handication versus Headication," the reading
of 'which had considerable influence upon
Andy. For a crest, the coat-of-arms has a
crown reversed and surmounted by a liberty
cap ! There is "triumphant democracy" for
you. The escutcheon is supported by an Amer-
ican flag on one side and a Scotch flag on the
other. Underneath is the motto, "Death to_
Privilege." That is where the tariflf reformers
begin to get ready to say things !

Mr. Carnegie himself, who is proud of his
humble beginning, tells of his first steps up-
ward: of his first earnings of $1.20 a week as
a bobbin-boy in a cotton factory in Allegheny
City, at the age of twelve; of his next step to
the position of fire-boy for the boiler of a small
steam engine in the cellar of a factory; and
then of his "transfer from darkness to light,
from the desert to paradise," when he became
a district telegraph boy in Pittsburg, entering,
as he says, "a new world, amid books, news-
papers, pencils, pen and ink, and writing pads,
and a clean office, bright windows, and the
literary atmosphere." The "literary atmos-
phere" of a district telegraph office leaves
something to be desired, if our observation of
the thrillers read by the messenger boys goes

502

CURRENT LITERATURE

for anything; but the general improvement in
his surroundings made Andy "the happiest boy
alive." He must have formed the habit of hap-
piness then, and he has certainly never gotten
over it. One thing only marred his perfect
joy. He was "always a poor climber" — that is
to say a poor climber of telegraph poles, and
an occasional duty of the boys was to accom-
pany a repairer and "shin up" the pole to help
adjust a wire. But he made up for his inabil-
ity to climb poles by a marvelous skill in climb-
ing up a ladder, videlicet the ladder of success.
He learned to read messages and to send them ;
attracted the attention of a Pennsylvania rail-
road official — Colonel Scott — and became a
train dispatcher, then Scott's private secretary.
Opportunity was never bald-headed enough to
get past him, and the "skirts of happy Chance"
never fluttered by him ungrasped. When Scott
became assistant secretary of war at the out-
break of the Civil War he placed young Car-
negie in charge of the military railroads and
telegraphs, and he was the third man wounded
on the Union side, being injured while trying
to free the track into Washington iProm ob-
structing wires. He went on and up always.
When asked by a reporter in Pittsburg what
his secret of success had been, Carnegie said
that it lay in his ability to get good men around
him. The reporter got it wrong in his paper.
He said the secret lay in getting around good
men! Probably both were right.

Herbert N. Casson, the historian of the Steel
Trust, awards to Carnegie the highest emi-
nence ever achieved in four different ways.
First, he is eminent "as a business builder."
"He was the first steelmaker in any country
who flung good machinery on the scrap-heap
merely because something better had been in-
■vented." He was the first to employ a salaried
chemist for manufacturing purposes. It was
his faith and foresight and enterprise that
gave America supremacy in the iron and steel
industry. Second, he was "an executive train-
er." He made not only steel but steel-makers.
"No other system has ever made so many men
wealthy in so short a time." Third, he was
eminent "as a wealth-master." He would
never become the valet of Fortune. He re-
fused to surrender to the demands of wealth.
He mastered it and has not been mastered by
it. He lived his life and enjoyed it, whether
the market went up or down. Fourth, he is
eminent as "a civilization designer." He is not
satisfied with civilization as it is and the breed
of human beings it is producing. Over in
England they say he has a countenance sug-
gestive of "a benevolent steel-hammer." But

of benevolence and philanthropy of the con-
ventional sort he will not hear. He is, says
Mr. Casson again, "no Jubilee plunger of be-
neficence," but "a shaper of world-policies,"
and "possibly the most original and creative
American of the last half century." At the
dedicatory exercises of the Carnegie Institute
the other day, Mr. Carnegie said:

"I have been in a dream ever since I arrived
here, and I am still in a dream. As I look upon
this building, I can hardly realize what has been
done in my absence by the men who have made it.
I have tried to make myself realize that I have
anything to do with it, and have failed to do so.
I said to Mrs. Carnegie last night, 'It is like the
mansion raised in the night by the genii, who
obeyed Aladdin.' She replied, 'Yes, and you did
not even have to rub the lamp.'

"It is true that I gave some pieces of paper,
but they do not represent anything in my mind,
because I did not part with anything that I could
understand. It is true that these bits of paper
represented bonds, but I had never seen these
bonds.

"I cannot feel that I own a mountain. I don't
think any man can really feel he owns a stretch
of land. Let him walk over mountains or heather
and say to himself, 'These mountains are mine,'
and he will not be able to make himself under-
stand the meaning of the words. So it is im-
possible to make one's self understand that he
owns a great fortune."

It is this sort of frankness, this disposition
to take the world into his personal confidence,
that has made him probably the most popular
multi-millionaire alive.

Aside from his present multifarious activi-
ties as "a civilization designer," three things
help to keep Carnegie happy and young.
There is golf, of which he is passionately fond.
There is music, of which he is still more fond.
And there is the domestic joy that comes from
his wife and daughter, of which he is most
fond. In his elegant New York home he has
the organ waken him in the morning and in
Skibo Castle he has the bagpipes perform the
same service. "Lead, Kindly Light" and "Si-
lent Night" are his favorites on the organ, and
"Hey Johnnie Cope" and "Jeannie's Bawbee"
are his favorites on the bagpipe.

The romance of Mr. Carnegie's life began
when he was thirty-five and Miss Louise Whit-
field was eleven. That was when they first
became acquainted. He taught her to ride
horseback in the park, but even when she be-
came a young lady there was no word of mar-
riage made public. Carnegie had repeatedly
declared that he would not marry as long as
his mother lived. She died in 1886 and in 1887
he and Miss Whitfield were united. She has
always had a fondness for books and music
and travel, but society does not interest her.

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

503

THE ARCHANGEL OF PEACE AT THE HAGUE

ITHIN eight months of the July
morning on which William Thomas
Stead was born at Embleton, Eng-
land, nearly sixty years ago, he was
shouting delightedly "I." In a few weeks more
he was yelling "Me." Fanciful as may seem
this legend of youthful precocity, according to
the London World, it appeals powerfully to
theorists who believe that the boy is father to
the man, that Stead, as he informs humanity
himself every day, is the father of The Hague
conference. "The world is mine!" cried
Monte Cristo, but to Stead the world is "I."
Who put the notion of universal peace into
the head of the Czar? "I." Who is to be the
cynosure of all eyes at The Hague next
month? "I," Who inspires awe in the soul
of the Russian Premier, controls the impetu-
osity of the new Shah of Persia and keeps the
peace between France and Germany? "I."
"Strange as it may seem," affirms Mr. Stead
in that entertaining diary which he keeps so
minutely and issues so regularly under the
title of The Review of Reviews (London),
"the German Emperor is the only man I am
anxious to meet who is not anxious to meet
me." Not one of the many delightful personal
characteristics of Mr. Stead is more manifest
than his freedom from affectation. He makes
no more pretense of concealing his own vast
influence than did Napoleon. His egotism is
so natural and spontaneous that it is a positive
delight.

Stead received his early education in the
common schools. As he entered his teens, he
had at his disposal a midshipman's berth in
the British navy. But the mother of William
T. Stead, like the mother of George Washing-
ton, who had a similar chance, could not con-
sent to see her son depart at so tender an age
from under her influence into the temptations
with which his lot in life would be beset. Will-
iam, like George, was kept at home, and the
destiny of the world changed. George was
surveying land at sixteen and William was
surveying the goods in his employer's shop at
the same age.

William's early impressions are associated
with the extensive coal fields amid which nes-
tles Newcastle-upon-Tyne, the manufacturing
town to which he is indebted for his familiar-
ity with shipbuilding and the manufacture of
locomotives. He worked early and late for a
somewhat severe merchant who taught him
how to keep books, how to buy in a falling

market and how to sell in a rising one. Will-
iam had very little leisure, but he spent as
much of it as he dared at the local library,
picking up all the French he could, and even
dipping into German as a means of attaining
success in that export trade to which destiny
seemed to call him. By the time he was eight-
een his genius for journalism had led him into
newspaper work and given him a local celeb-
rity that extended as far as Darlington, an
important center for the manufacture of
woolens and carpets. Nothing could be more
delightful even then than his injection of his
own personality into all he wrote on the sub-
ject of railway accidents and the weather. By
the time he was twenty-two he had become
editor of the Darlington Northern Echo, ex-
ploiting, in this petty world, that capacity to
assume the burdens of everybody which was
later to render him so indispensable, by his
own admissions, to Nicholas H, the Emperor
Francis Joseph and the successive presidents
of the third French republic. He told the
local magnates how to word their wills. He
insisted on running the factories, regulating
the railways and doing the municipal legisla-
tion. It was the original application to Eng-
land of the institution known in our own coun-
try as government by newspaper. He suc-
ceeded by carefully eschewing abstract prin-
ciples and fanatically embracing details. Gen-
eral topics he despised. Immediate facts were
his hobby. No train of goods should quit the
railway station until William had seen the bill
of lading. He invited himself to everybody's
wedding. He felicitated himself upon what-
ever happened. Yet when he bade farewell
to all this greatness at the age of thirty for a
subordinate position on the London Pall Mall
Gazette, very few people in the world at large
had ever heard the name of Stead. In another
three years very few people had not. For in
that time he had made himself editor of the
Pall Mall, and been sent to prison for exposing
a world-wide traffic in women under the title
of "The Maiden Tribute."

William T. Stead does not write about Will-
iam T. Stead through lack of something to
write about. He does it merely because the
things that pertain to himself are the best pos-
sible illustrations of anything that can con-
cern the human race. Mention the Czar, and
Stead produces a letter from that potentate.
Speak of the Taj Mahal — Stead is on his way
thither. Quote from King Edward's last

504

CURRENT LITERATURE

THB»WIFE OF WILLIAM T. STEAD
This lady is the companion of her husband in his
innumerable tours about the world, and she is his most
valued adviser in his public work.

speech from the throne and Stead has antici-
pated it by five years. As Hazlitt said of Cob-
bett, he is not the man to shrink from giving
the best possible illustration of the subject
from a squeamish delicacy, for he likes both
himself and his subject too v^^ell. "I think,"
writes Mr. Stead in his London Review of
Reviews, "I may say without egotism that but
for me there would be no Hague conference
for the world to talk about. It was I who
took up this matter in the teeth of our indif-
ferent public, I who saw the Czar when all
the world scoffed, and I who persuaded the
statesmen of continental Europe that peace is
no idle dream." Nor is he less interesting in
his description of the enthusiasm he inspired
among the publicists of Germany or of the
elaborate preparations now making to wel-
come him at Calcutta. Stead, in a word, is
his own best topic, made additionally interest-
ing from time to time by incidental reference
to such minor subjects as The Hague, Pres-
ident Roosevelt and the earthquake at San
Francisco. The idea of Mars can be asso-
ciated in his mind only with the theory that

the inhabitants of that remote planet are striv-
ing to communicate with William T. Stead.

Only when he relaxes does he seem or-
dinary. Not so long ago Mr. Stead was one
of the most enthusiastic bicycle riders in Eng-
land. He still enjoys a spin upon his wheel.
Notwithstanding his years, he can maintain
the same rate of pedaling over a gradient that
he delights in on a level road. He deems this
pastime pleasurable, and he recommends it for
its health-giving properties. Boating is an-
other of his hobbies. He can discourse learn-
edly on boats that wabble laterally or bend in
the middle when the shock of the oars is im-
parted to the water. After a 'varsity crew has
used a boat for practice on rough water be-
tween Putney and Mortlake, Mr. Stead can
give an expert opinion on the outcome of the
race. On the whole, however, he is not ath-
letic in his recreations, preferring, indeed, to
play with children. Children are a sort of fad
with Mr. Stead. He will romp the deck all
day with any little ones who happen to be
aboard an ocean liner when he is crossing the
deep. He can play tag or blind man's buff by
the hour, while pussy in the corner exhilarates
him mightily. He has grown somewhat fond
of travel, too, in recent years, thinking nothing
of a voyage from London out to India. In his
early manhood he held aloof from the theater,
having, as the son of a Nonconformist clergy-
man, imbibed some suspicion of its moral ten-
dency. To-day he is seen occasionally inside
a playhouse.

In all the personal relations of life, Mr.
Stead is a plain, unaffected English gentleman.
Stead the journalist may wrap himself in the
folds of a graceful egotism, but Stead the man
wears the mantle of humility from choice. He
is without that cold consciousness of superior
breeding, which makes the manner of so many
English university men seem stiff. Mr. Stead
is a self-taught man, and he never assumes to
be anything else. It would be doing him the
grossest injustice to infer that his energies are
concentrated upon his career and only inci-
dentally directed to his ideas. He combines,
in the opinion of writers who have studied him
in M. A. P. and other London periodicals, the
esurience of the self-seeking and predatory ad-
venturer with the disinterested patriotism of
an Abraham Lincoln. He is continually seek-
ing the welfare of humanity while promoting
that of William T. Stead.

Those who know him intimately predict that
he will concentrate in himself every element of
purely personal interest at The Hague next
month. The international peace conference is

Copyriifht, 1907, by Brown Brothers, New York

AMERICAN IN SYMPATHIES, RUSSIAN BY NATURAL ASSIMILATION, ENGLISH BY BIRTH
Thus does William T. Stead, whose very latest photograph is reproduced above, describe his own personality.
Mr. Stead is on his way to The Hague, where he will be the most conspicuous unofficial figure at the international
peace conference of next month.

5o6

CURRENT LITERATURE

to him the greatest earthly triumph yet
achieved by journalism. He means to issue
a daily paper at the Dutch capital during the
progress of the negotiations. As those delib-
erations are to be secret, Mr. Stead, it is con-
fidently predicted, will reveal, in his best man-
ner, the compliments paid him by the King of
Norway, by the King of Italy, by the French
President, by the King of Denmark and by
the Prince Regent of Sweden, with all of
whom he has lately talked. Mr. Stead is the
only journalist in the world whose morning
mail is as likely as not to contain a personal

missive from these potentates and from even
greater ones. "In every capital," says Mr.
Stead, in one of the innumerable reports of
his own doings with which he can keep three
stenographers busy simultaneously, "I saw my
three ambassadors. I am English by birth,
American in sympathy, and Russian by process
of natural selection." The conclusion of the
whole matter, as all regular readers of the
London Reviezv of Reviews are perfectly well
aware, is that The Hague has been put in
readiness for an international Stead confer-
ence.

"THE GREATEST BULLDOG IN AMERICAN POLITICS"

WELL remember you as you rode
into my quarters when Joe Johns-
^ ton struck my left in Nortl Caro-
lina. You burst upon us in a
grove of pines with a message from' Slocum
saying he needed to be reinforced. I recall
your figure, sir, splashed with mud, your spurs
that were red, your splendid horse, hard rid-
den and panting, and how you sat erect; and
I shall not forget the soldier you looked and
were. I marked you well then, and thought
of the honors that were your due. You have
gloriously attained them, and I believe and
approve that higher, the highest, honors await
you."

These words were uttered by General Sher-
man in a speech in Cincinnati many years ago,
before a magnificent audience. The man thus
addressed in such flattering terms was Joseph
Benson Foraker, who is to-day, as he has been
so often in his career, the storm-center of pol-
itics in that state of political storm-centers,
Ohio. The picture of Foraker, as drawn by
General Sherman, is a fairly good one of him
at almost any stage of his career. He has
always been "the man on horseback," always
militant, always with red spurs, always erect
and martial and splashed with mud.

He was born on an Ohio farm. In a his-
tory of Ohio, found in a certain library, is a
picture of a log-cabin in a clearing, and under-
neath it are printed the words: "Cabin in
which J. B. Foraker was born." Underneath
that has been written, apparently in Mr. For-
aker's handwriting, the terse remark: "This
is a fake!" But if he was not actually born
in a log cabin, he was born in humble circum-
stances and had to learn in early life what
hard work was like. Yoimg Foraker was
known as Ben, and the first important exploit

of which he was the hero was his running
away from home to join the army when the
Civil War began. He was but sixteen then,
and he was sent ingloriously back home; but
his parents concluded that it was of no use to
oppose his wishes further, and in 1862 he went
to the front as second lieutenant of the 89th
Ohio. He served through the war, but he
admits that there is a flaw in his official record
that might interfere with his drawing a pen-
sion. He was two years under the regulation
age when he enlisted, and to gain his point
and yet save his conscience he marked the fig-
ures 18 on the soles of his shoes and then
boldly declared that he was "over 18." When
Sherman's march to the sea had been com-
pleted and Savannah had surrendered, it was
young FoVaker who was chosen to row down
the river, dodging as best he could the infernal
machines sown broadcast, to communicate witli
the Union fleet and thus with the world.

After the war he started in to finish his
schooling. Two years at the Ohio Wesleyan
University and two more at Cornell were fol-
lowed by the hanging out of his "shingle" as
a lawyer in Cincinnati. The "shingle" has
never come down. His firm still enjoys a
large practice in southern Ohio, and Foraker
himself ranks in the United States Senate
among the half-dozen ablest lawyers of that
body.

When one comes to the personal character-
istics of the man, there is seemingly but one
that has impressed itself strongly upon the
scribes of the press. He is a fighter from way
back, say they one and all, and that is about
as far as they ever get in the description of
the man's personality. Sometimes they go a
little further and tell us that he never tells a
lie to the newspaper men, and that they all

Photograph by Harris-Ewing, Washington

THE POLITICAL STORM CENTER
When Senator Joseph Benson Foraker was but sixteen he ran away from home to fight — in the Civil War. He
has been ever since one of the most beautiful fighters American politics has produced. On the stump he is described
as "a wizard and a hypnotist who can make men forsake their families and their homes and their political principles
and their bank accounts." He will need all his wizardry in bis present contest to prevent the endorsement of Taft
for President by Ohio Republicans.

5o8

CURRENT LITERATURE

like him for his geniality to them. But it is
his courage as an open fighter that has given
him his tag. He will probably never outlive
the nickname he early achieved of "Fire
Alarm" Foraker. One of the bright men on
The Saturday Evening Post, who gives us
personal sketches of great men, in which an
item or two of information swims around in
a sea of racy rhetoric, has this to say:

"They used to call Senator Joseph Benson
Foraker, of Ohio, 'Fire- Alarm Joe,' as he fitted
the part There was never an occasion when he
did not ring in three sixes. Everything was a
conflagration to him. It made no difference
whether there was a slight blaze in some rubbish
heap of legislation or whether somebody had
poured oil on and touched a match to the Con-
stitution, he came galloping to the front, with
whistle-blowing and bell-ringing and three hun-
dred pounds of stearn showing on the gage.

"Those were in his younger days, when that
bristly moustache was still black and those hairs
at his temples had not been frosted. Now that
time has tempered him a bit he does not ring in
so many general alarms. Sometimes he sends in
a still alarm and sometimes he says, 'Pshaw! Let
Engine Six and Truck Four 'tend to that. I'm
too tired.' Sometimes, but not always. When a
real fire comes along he cannot withstand the im-
pulse. He jumps into his clothes, slides down the
pole, grabs a helmet and a coat and is the first
man on the scene, and when he gets there he takes
command and needs no trumpet to make his
orders heard and understood.

"It takes a lot of courage to be a good fireman
and it takes a lot of lungs to put in the right kind
of a fire alarm. Let it be set down right here
that Foraker has the courage and Foraker has the
lungs. There are a good many times when there
may be questions about the motive, but never a
time when there can be a question about the fight."

Foraker's career in public life has not been
that of a tactician, a wire-puller, an organizer.
He is built on the magnetic plan. When he
wants to do something he makes a speech and
stampedes a convention. He is a leader of the
type of Blaine and Conkling rather than of the
Tilden type. "Addition, division and silence"
was never made his political motto. "His no-
tion of sweeping a convention," says one of
the Washington correspondents, "was to burn
red fire, start out the brass bands, and make
some speeches of the sort that set the audience
to jumping on their chairs and losing their
minds." He has always until recently been
in a struggle with the party machine in Ohio
and fighting to hold his place in politics, and
his consummate ability as a stump-speaker and
his solid legal attainments have given him a
remarkably long series of successes. He was
a judge of the Superior Court of Cincinnati
for three years, resigning on account of ill
health. Then he was four times a candidate
for governor, being twice successful. "Dur-

ing his two terms," we are told, "there was
something doing every minute. He was a sort
of Theodore Roosevelt in those days, and un-
der him Ohio led the strenuous life." When
he left the gubernatorial mansion in Columbus
he started in to replenish his exchequer, and
this is the way he did it, according to the
Washington correspondent of the N. Y. Times :

"He organized a merger of the Cincinnati street
railways and when he had done the job he sold
the finished product to the Elkins-Widener syn-
dicate. The legislature was Foraker's at that
time. He went to Columbus and induced it to
pass a bill permitting city councils to make fifty-
year franchises, so that he could complete his
deal with the syndicate. A less courageous man
would have done a thing like this behind the.
bush. Foraker did it openly. It raised a wild
storm of protest, and the men who put through
this Rogers bill were ruined politically."

When Foraker was made Senator, March 4,
1897, one of the first things that brought him
into national prominence was his vigorous
ringing of the fire-bell when President Cleve-
land undertook to send back to the Confed-
erate States the battle flags captured from
their armies in the Civil War and held in the
federal archives. Foraker used the whole
zenith as a sounding-board at that time and
made a large section of the Northern popula-
tion turn pale over the imminent return of
slavery and the prospective loss of all that
the North had fought for. He won his point,
but the amount of sectional ill-will that he
stirred up was a rather appalling exhibition.
Later on, after the Spanish-American War
had been fought, the return of the Confed-
erate battle flags was again brought up and
accomplished with hardly a ripple of excite-
ment from Senator Foraker or anyone else.

To-day, at the age of 61, Senator Foraker is
in another and perhaps the most desperate
battle of his life, — the attempt to defeat the
Roosevelt administration in its purpose of
securing the nomination of Secretary Taft for
the presidency in 1908. Says The Times
Washington correspondent again:

"The anti-Roosevelt leader in the nation [Fora-
ker] is the ideal fighter. Roosevelt himself is re-
garded as the typical warrior, but Foraker is a
better type, for Roosevelt has been known to
yield and Foraker never has. In a minority, even
a minority of one, he fights as well as when he is
a captain of ten thousand. He is the greatest
bulldog in American politics. This is the man
who lines himself up against the most dominating
President since Jackson for a fight to a finish.
For more than five years the President has
either gone his way unchallenged or has brushed
his adversaries out of his way without effort.
Is it any wonder that the spectacle of Foraker
in the arena makes Washington look for inter-
esting days?"

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

509

THE CEREMONIAL SPLENDOR OF THE QUEEN

OF ENGLAND

POSITIVELY rich, comparatively
beautiful, and superlatively married
is that heroine of the American

, divorce courts to whom English
society is indebted for the most recent of
Queen Alexandra's vindications' of the sanctity
of wedlock. The Lord Chamberlain had been
unfortunate enough to assume, by permitting
the name of a sometime conspicuous resident
of Sioux Falls to be inscribed upon the list of
presentations at court, that the ratio of hus-
bands to wife, when the female is a native of
the United States, is a matter of plurality
rather than of propriety. Ladies summoned
to court are presumed to have sent in the
names of their husbands beforehand. But the
names submitted by the belle from Sioux Falls
were not only numerous, even from the point
of vievir of South Dakota, but so complicated
by the circumstance that the lady's lawful hus-
band in New York is not identical with her
lawful husband elsewhere that the Lord
Chamberlain submitted the perplexity to the
Queen's Majesty. The American woman's
name was stricken from the eligible list.
Such is the episode which, we are asked
to believe by certain organs of fashion-
able society in London, inspired the latest
manifestation of her Majesty's well-known op-
position to the institution of divorce. That op-
position is understood, too, to have kept one
American duchess out of the courts quite late-
ly. All the state legislatures in the Union com-
bined, avers the London World, could not re-
strain the society women of America, so far as
divorce is concerned, half so effectively as the
Queen's decisive attitude.

This decisiveness of attitude is deemed most
characteristic of her Majesty's nature. When
she set her face against "picture hats" — for-
bidding all her maids of honor to wear such
things — their vogue was extinguished. The
Queen's likes, again, are as pronounced as her
dislikes. To her Majesty, according to Lon-
don Truth, must be attributed the prevalence
of shades of purple — lavender, mauve, helio-
trope— in the dresses of women of fashion in
English society. The Queen, indeed, has been
in full mourning for her father until very late-
ly. A gown of black lace, embroidered with
sequins with corsage and train to correspond,
proclaimed the fact at last year's "court" in
Buckingham Palace. Of late, however, the

Queen has gone back to her loved lavender and
mauve. She has introduced a long fawn coat
with a sable boa around the collar. The toque
— the little hat with no brim to speak of — is
heliotrope when the dress is heliotrope, mauve
when the dress is mauve. It permits the fullest
display of her Majesty's plentiful hair, still
beautifully brown altho the Queen is past sixty-
It is the practice of her Majesty to cause a
public display, in certain shop windows, of the
dresses, the hats and the underwear of the
ladies of the royal family, thus giving timely
warning to ^11 concerned of the season's com-
ing fashions. The wedding of a princess in
England is invariably preceded by an adequate
manifestation of her lingerie along the London
thorofares. There is, in short, no detail of
woman's wear to which her Majesty does not
stand in the relation of final arbitress. Her
favorite gems, diamonds, rubies and pearls,
have been made to supersede the emerald, the
turquoise and the opal. The waistbands of all
bodices must be quite deep to please the Queen,
a predilection which has had a profound effect
upon evening toilets in this country, as the
Paris Figaro reports. Ever since she came to
the throne, the Queen has insisted upon long
trains, preferably of blue satin or pink Lyons
velvet. A gown of black satin, of course,
would imply a train of rich black brocade. Jet
in long tapering sprays is then mandatory.
The growing length of trains is admittedly a
source of much fatigue at Buckingham Palace.
The Duchess of Buccleugh, weighted with
plumes, tiara, necklaces, and compassed round
about with yard after yard of black brocade,
had to be lifted bodily out of her coach and
transported into the presence like a bale of
goods this year because of a train so inter-
minable that it remained streaming out of
sight long after her Grace had kissed hands.
Gentlemen in attendance upon their Majesties
have been known to compromise their deport-
ment through ineffectual endeavors to get out
of the way of trains. Yet her Majesty now
lets it be known, by sanctioning the toilets of
the peeress in attendance as Mistress of the
Robes, that trains are henceforth to be even
longer than before.

Thus, to English society, is attested that pas-
sion for pageantry and for ceremonial and for
processional pomp which is no less charac-
teristic of the Queen's taste than is her well-

5IO

CURRENT LITERATURE

known fondness for going to musical concerts
or her interest in photography or her liking for
the hymn, "Oh, come all yc faithful." The
stateliness of her Majesty's mim and her poetic
grace in movement are very vinning as she
paces dreamily in long purple train, broidered
with gold and supported at each side by pages
in scarlet with knots of white silk tied upon
the right arm. The crown upon her head, when
the Queen is visible on such state occasions, is
composed entirely of diamonds, mounted in sil-
ver settings, to her own design, because silver
is the only metal fully revealing the brilliance
of fine stones. The circlet, unsurpassed in
effect by that of any existing crown, is some
inch and a half in width and encrusted in bril-
liants of the finest water. The head of her
Majesty becomes one blaze of light with such
a setting since the diamonds in her crown are
placed as closely together as possible and are
of exquisite cut. In the center of four large
cross-pates, as they are technically called, is
the Koh-i-noor, the grand feature in the crown
of the Queen of England. The total number
of precious stones is 3,688. Notwithstanding
that, by her Majesty's special command, the
crown has been constructed as lightly as pos-
sible— it weighs only twenty-two ounces — its
weight upon the royal head is said to render
her uneasy. The discomfort is enhanced by
the necessity of hanging the immense ruby-pur-
ple velvet train of her Majesty from her
rather slender pair of shoulders. The Queen
in her official capacity wears the longest train in
the world — over eighteen feet. It is divided in-
to three parts to facilitate transportation by the
pages during what is known as "the Queen's
procession" — one of the most solemn of royal
splendors, connected usually with Westminster
Abbey. Having knelt in silent devotion for a
moment at a faldstool before her throne, her
Majesty seats herself, with attendant prelates
on either hand, while her ladies in waiting take
their places in front of lines of assembled peer-
esses robed in red velvet. The pages who have
borne the train now distribute its folds of gold
beads, ermine and embroidery in such fashion
as to reveal the thick bullion and cloth of gold
woven on a ruby purple ground and retire to
the steps of the dais beneath lights that shine
upon their scarlet and gold coats and ribbons.
Every detail, down to the yard and a half of
embroidery at the end of the train, and every
movement from the rising of the spectators
when the heralds trumpet the Queen's approach
to the acclamation "Vivat Regina Alexandra I"
from the choir, is rehearsed in advance under
the supervision of her Majesty. Such a genius

for ceremonial as she evinces on any and every
occasion has not disclosed itself to the eyes of
the English people since the last years of the
reign of Elizabeth. At the height of the offi-
cial season last January, according to informa-
tion obtained by one of the best informed society
chroniclers in London, the Mistress of the
Robes changed her attire eight times and each
maid of honor changed five times in one day.

The Queen is strict, too, on such points of
etiquet as make it a breach of decorum, for
instance, to hand anything but new and unused
coin, fresh from the mint, to the consort of the
British sovereign. It is likewise intolerably
bad form to put a question to the Queen direct-
ly. Only the King may do that with propriety.
To make love to her Majesty is punishable, by
the law of Britain, with death, unless, of
course, one happens to be the King. Her
Majesty is so great a stickler for formal ob-
servances of every description that no girl can
become her maid of honor who is not either
the daughter, granddaughter or niece of a
peer. Her Majesty, as we learn from the Lon-
don Evening Standard, has declined to make
maids of honor of the daughters of dukes, mar-
quesses and earls on the ground that they are
of too high rank for the position. The appoint-
ment of maid of honor carries with it the
courtesy title of "Honorable," which the lady
retains for life, whether she marry or not. A
miniature of her Majesty, set in diamonds and
surmounted by a flat bow of red and white
ribbon, is worn on the left side of the bodice
of a maid of honor, who must, too, be young
and lovely. Her Majesty has made the English
court so brilliant socially that a maid of honor
is supposed to have exceptional opportunities of
marrying well. But no man may court a maid
of honor without the Queen's permission.

Her Majesty's keen interest in racing and
her refusal to tolerate a lady in her suite who
plays cards for money are deemed somewhat
incompatible. So, again, are the regular visits
of the Queen to church and her patronage of
ballet dancers. When her Majesty visited
Chatsworth, the stateliest home in England
perhaps, the private chapel there was set apart
for her exclusive use and a danseuse was im-
ported from Paris to pirouet in tights for the
amusement of the royal leisure. The incongru-
ity is attributed to the Queen's Danish train-
ing. Denmark and her Danish relatives ab-
sorb her still. The Queen's most intimate
friend is her sister, the Dowager Czarina,
with whom she spends at least two months of
every year. It is during these Danish vaca-
tions that the Queen of England indulges her

THE QUEEN WHOSE GENIUS FOR POMP AND CIRCUMSTANCE BEDAZZLES THE WORLD
Her Majesty Queen Alexandra, consort of Edward VII, is considered the most magnificent personage now living
in manner, in dress and in her personal taste. In her official capacity she wears the longest train in the world,
her crown contains over three thousand diamonds, and the money she spends is brought to her brand new from
the mint.

512

CURRENT LITERATURE

passion for amateur photography, one of her
principal forms of recreation. Unlike her
daughters, she does little golfing, altho she
will spend a whole morning on the links
watching the play. Prime Minister Balfour,
according to the Queen, is the best golfer in
England. She had just seen him finish a very

interesting game. Her Majesty personally
congratulated the right honorable gentleman
and called him then and there the most grace-
ful man in England. To this incident the
London World is inclined to attribute the
present craze for golf wherever the language
of Shakespeare and Milton is spoken.

'A MODERN TORQUEMADA"

HAT the death of Constantine Petro-
vitch Pobiedonostzeff, incarnation
of all that is most absolute in the
Muscovite autocracy, should occur
when "Stolypin seems likely to lead the
country peacefully into constitutional paths,"
seems a striking coincidence to the London
Times. The late chief procurator of the
Holy Synod once referred to Abraham Lin-
coln's idea of "government of the people, for
the people, by the people," as "the most ter-
rible heresy since Servetus denied the Trin-
ity." Our Civil War was to him direct evi-
dence of the divine wrath at that provision of
the constitution of the United States forbid-
ding the imposition of religious qualifications
for office under the government. One of Po-
biedonostzeff's characteristic predictions was
that America will be captured by the Jews.
He had an extravagant admiration for Emer-
son's writings, having translated many of them
into Russian. Whittier was one of his favor-
ite poets. Thomas Jefferson, he said, was
"mentally unbalanced." But the "monumental
misfortune" of this country, according to Po-
biedonostzeff, was the establishment of the
American system of public schools. As is well
known,- the Loris Melikoff constitution for
Russia, approved by the Czar Alexander H
and countersigned by his successor, was never
promulgated because Pobiedonostzeff used his
influence with Alexander HI after the father's
assassination to have the document suppressed.
Democratic institutions were to Pobie-
donostzeff "the grand falsehood of our
age." They are based, he said, "on the totally
false theory of the sovereignty of the people"
like that "twin abomination, freedom of con-
science." "The faith of individuals," to quote
him again, "can in no way be distinguished
from the faith of the church, for its essential
need' is community. It follows logically that
individuals can not be permitted to separate
themselves from the church." They never did
so in Russia during Pobiedonostzeff's long

tenure of office without unpleasant conse-
quences to themselves. "It is impossible to
give anything like an idea of the agonies he
made all heretics endure," writes Dr. E. J.
Dillon, who knew Pobiedonostzeff well, "of
the legal and illegal outrages to which they
were subjected during his twenty-five years'
direction of tne Holy Synod." Jewish, maid-
ens refusing baptism were flogged on the bare
back in public places by Cossacks. Stundists
who declined to observe holy days in the ortho-
dox manner had their feet squeezed in hot
iron boots. The children of heretic parents
were taken by force from their mothers' arms
to be reared in the true faith.

In the absolute purity of his private life,
the incorruptibility of his official adminis-
tration and the lovableness of his unassuming
personality, Pobiedonostzeff was a great con-
trast to the exalted Russian bureaucrat of the
ordinary type. The fascination of his man-
ner, the fervency of a faith received from
pious parents, the humble mode of life to
which his honorable poverty condemned him,
the smiling paternalism with which he fumbled
in his coat-tail pockets for toys and sweet-
meats to lavish on the children he encountered
in his walks abroad, and, above all, a humility
of disposition which no loftiness of official dig-
nity ever impaired made Pobiedonostzeff as
persuasive as he was irresistible. "One had
only to be brought into personal contact with
the man," says "one who knew him" in the
Paris Figaro, "to understand his unprecedent-
ed influence over the minds of three Czars in
succession." Bespectacled, frock-coated, thin,
soft-voiced, deferential, accessible to high and
low in spite of more than one attempt to as-
sassinate him, Pobiedonostzeff was compared
by one of his American visitors to a Harvard
professor of some twenty-five years ago. He
read English and American literature widely,
knew several languages well, and at the
age of seventy-six began the study of
Chinese.

Literature and Art

AN ATTEMPT TO "PLACE" JACK LONDON

ITH the publication of "Before
Adam," that "prodigious youngster,"
Jack London, becomes the author of
just fifteen volumes of stories and
essays. He is one of the most widely read and
widely discussed writers in America, and easily
the foremost in importance among the writers
of the West. Yet no attempt has been here-
tofore made to estimate the sum total of his
achievement. At the present juncture it can-
not but be interesting to ask : What is his re-
lation to literary art, and what place will the
future give him in the literature of our day?
Mr. Porter Garnett, a writer in The Pacific
Monthly who has set himself to answer these
questions, declares that in any attempt to es-
timate Jack London's achievement he finds it
wellnigh impossible to separate London's man-
ner from his matter, or his style from his
philosophy, and this because "it is in his char-
acter as a philosopher, or rather as an inter-
preter of the philosophy of others, rather than
in his character as an artist, that London com-
pels attention." Moreover:

"With the exception of a few of his stories, and
these chiefly among his earliest work, his chosen
line of endeavor lies along a well-defined groove.
He may be said to have specialized in the inter-
pretation of life from evolutionary doctrine and
in the exposition of socialistic philosophy, to which
he is unalterably committed and which he ever
urges with the indomitability (a favorite word
of his, by the way) which is as characteristic of
his personality as it is of his literary manner. It
is this indomitability of temper that has won him
his success, and it is destined inevitably to carry
him on to still greater achievement."

There can be no doubt, says Mr. Garnett,
that Jack London knows how to write; and
the dominant characteristic of his writing is
force. "He is a worshiper at the shrine of
Action, and Action he interprets through the
medium of Force." To continue the argu-
ment:

"According to the rhetorics. Force is one of the
three elements of style ; the other two are Ele-
gance and Simplicity. But, in spite of the rheto-
rics, Simplicity, Force and Elegance do not con-
stitute style. What these factors do constitute is
simply good rhetorical prose, and good rhetorical
prose, notwithstanding the banalities of our
novelists, is by no means uncommon. Books on
scientific subjects are full of it. But style is an
illusive ^ quality which can be analyzed but not
synthesized. It is a leaven that is made up in

varying proportions of beauty, nobility, dignity,
delicacy, reserve, rhythm and, above all, and
through all, taste. The refinement of force is
nobility, of elegance beauty; the expression of
these produces charm and it is by charm that we
measure art. Now charm, which I have said is
the measure of art, is diffused through London's
writing in widely separated particles. It gleams
here and there from the seething flux of his liter-
ary manner; and when his work is complete and
the future analyst shall make the final assay, he
will no doubt find traces of it in the bottom of the
crucible.

"London sometimes plays the 'cello of passion
and even the viola of sentiment, but never the
violin of the supernal sense. His temper is best
expressed by
Braying of arrogant brass, whimper of querulous

reeds.
He has more of the brass band in his idiom than
of the string quartet."

Mr. Garnett proceeds to illustrate his point
by quoting the following vivid passage from
London's forthcoming Socialistic novel, "The
Iron Heel":

"It was not a column, but a mob, an awful river
that filled the street, the people of the abyss, mad
with drink and wrong, up at last and roaring for
the blood of their masters. ... It surged
past my vision in concrete waves of wrath, snarl-
ing and growling, carnivorous, drunk with whisky
from pillaged warehouses, drunk with hatred,
drunk with lust for blood — men, women and
children in rags and tatters, dim ferocious intelli-
gences with all the god-like blotted from their
features and all the fiend-like stamped in, apes
and tigers, anemic consumptives and great hairy
beasts of burden, wan faces from which vampire
society had sucked the juice of life, bloated forms
s^yollen with physical grossness and corruption,
withered hags and death's heads bearded like
patriarchs, festering youth and festering age,
faces of fiends, crooked, twisted, misshapen mon-
sters blasted with the ravages of disease and all
the horrors of chronic innutrition — the refuse and
the scum of life, a raging, screaming, screeching
demoniacal horde."

Here is unquestioned power; but "such
writing," says Mr. Garnett, "bears the same
relation to literature as a shriek does to sing-
ing." He adds:

"Compare this passage, or those portions of
'The Sea Wolf or 'Love of Life' and a number
of the Klondike tales in which London has sought
to depict the horrible, with the starving of the
Barbarians in 'Salammbo,' for example, or with
the description of the shipwreck in that neglected
masterpiece of adventure, 'The Narrative of
Arthur Gordon Pym.' The method of London is
a sort of deliberate hysteria; the methods of
Flaubert and Poe are the methods of the artist"

514

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE MASTER-DECADENT
Charles Baudelaire's influence on Swinburne and
other kindred minds has made him one of the
greatest literary forces of the nineteenth century.

When it comes to the architecture of fiction,
Mr. Garnett thinks that we will all have to
admit that, as a general rule, London's stories
are well contrived. "If he does not attain the
effect of charm, he almost invariably holds the
reader's interest." To quote further:

"This chaining of the interest is an important
part of the writer's art; it alone will carry him
far along the road toward popular success, and
in this phase of the craft London has been highly
successful. He is at his best in the arrangement
of his story in 'The Call of the Wild.' In 'White
Fang,' however, which is a thematic inversion of
'The Call of the Wild,' one finds toward the end
a dwindling away of interest and art. This is
also true of 'The Sea Wolf and 'Before Adam,'
which sag decidedly toward the close. London
always succeeds, however, in bringing his stories
well together at the end and clinches them with
skill and force. It would seem that his diagram
of interest for a long story is well devised, ex-
cept that in his resolutions he allows himself to
sink a bit too low after the highest point in the
scale is reached. One of the most "remarkable
things about 'The Iron Heel' is that therein he
has apparently thrown to the winds all precon-
ceived notions of story-writing and challenges
the interest of his readers by indulging for the
first hundred pages (the manuscript is about two
hundred pages in lengfth) in philosophical exposi-
tion, and yet, in spite of this doubtful and treach-
erous method, he succeeds in holding the interest
of the reader. The latter half of the book is a whirl
of action, which culminates in wave upon wave of
turmoil and horror. At the very end, after a
chapter not inappropriately entitled 'Nightmare,'

one is just given time to catch one's breath before
the story comes to an abrupt close. The inherent
interest of the story and London's large audience
of fiction readers — an advantage that he has over
other champions of Socialism — will undoubtedly
give greater currency to this preachment of the
doctrine than to any other book of the kind ex-
cepting, perhaps, the novels of H. G. Wells and
Upton Sinclair's much-exploited 'The Jungle.'

Mr, Garnett finds London's delineation of
character imperfect and unsatisfactory. His
deficiency here, we are told, lies in his lack of
the esthetic consciousness. "His mind reacts
to Beauty, but his cosmos does not include the
desire of Beauty." More specifically:

"Nowhere in his works does he show that he
understands the artist mind. He has drawn
characters such as Humphrey Van Weyden and
Maud Brewster in 'The Sea Wolf who have
artistic sensibilities ; but these sensibilities are in-
terpreted only as they appear when brought into
violent contact with the brute force of humanity
as expressed in the character of Wolf Larsen.
The characters of Humphrey Van Weyden and
Maud Brewster are objectively conceived, that of
Wolf Larsen subjectively. ^ London does not com-
prehend the artist subjectively any more than he
comprehends the sybarite subjectively. . . .

"Curiously enough, London has brought the
dog-wolf and the wolf-dog of 'The Call of the
Wild' and 'White Fang,' those bestiaries of the
North, much closer to us than he has brought the
creatures of our own flesh and blood in his pre-
historic fantasy; closer than human characters of
our own epoch that he has drawn."

The conclusion to which these considerations
bring Mr. Garnett is that "London's stylistic
deficiencies are due not to a deficiency of per-
ception, but to an arrested development in the
idealistic side of his nature." He is "limited
in expression to the prosaic," and the poetic
flashes in his work are "invariably over-
whelmed and smothered by the onrush of vig-
orous prose." He is "too much of the veritist,
too much the analyst, and too little the poet."
In consequence:

"He will take his place in the encyclopedias as
a philosopher and a propagandist rather than as
a literary artist. He has applied his energy to the
enunciation of his doctrines of civilization and
life through the medium best suited to his subject,
and the result of this application is a style which
has force, directness, clarity and contour. Viewed
in its extent, his writing exhibits only the profile
of language; it lacks modeling and perspective,
but it is touched not infrequently with a sort of
rude grace and in a few rare instances gives us a
fleeting and tantalizing glimpse of the exquisite
and the beautiful. The display of originality in
many of his stories is more than suflScient to off-
set whatever lack of this quality may appear now
and then in his work. His sincerity, his keen
perception, his skill as a weaver of tales, and his
mastery of a vigorous idiom have given him a
high place among writers of his time, and
America as well as the West may well be proud
of him."

LITERATURE AND ART

51S

THE MAD, BAD GENIUS OF BAUDELAIRE

N EVERY quarter of the globe there
seems to be at present a revival of
interest in the mad, bad genius of
Charles Baudelaire. Poe, it has
been said, is the father of decadence, Baude-
laire its most self-conscious exponent. Cer-
tainly all our modern devil-v^^orshipers have
stolen their firebrands from his hell, and the
greatest poet now^ living in the world, Swin-
burne, openly acclaimed him master and
friend. Nevertheless, it is customary in
Anglo-Saxon countries to mention the author
of "Les Fleurs du Mai" only with a shudder.
Nor is this inappropriate. For Baudelaire, in
the language of Victor Hugo, has invented a
"new thrill." Or, to quote a recent French
critic, M. Scherer, while possessing neither
heart, nor wit, ideas, words, reason, imagina-
tion, warmth, nor even feeling, Baudelaire has
established "the esthetics of debauch." Bau-
delaire, in other words, was a diabolist, in
that he worshiped evil. His poems, as one
writer phrases it, are rank night-shade flow-
ers. They are carefully polished and elab-
orated moral paradoxes, in which a shudder-
ing at the vileness of life alternates with fu-
tile aspirations toward an emancipation from it.
For, we are told, while Baudelaire worshiped
Satan, he clung to the Cross. "His ethics,"
the writer concludes, with a touch of facetious-
ness, "are pessimism reduced to the absurd,
his esthetics are a reduction to the absurd of
art; yet his poetry, in spite of all its artistic
theory and ethical teaching, has a perverse
poisonous originality that, like arsenic, keeps
his memory green." Swinburne, in his mel-
odious tribute, written on the occasion of Bau-
delaire's sorrowful death, in 1867, has caught
his master's spirit and luxurious imagery in
verses of dazzling splendor:

For always thee the fervid languid glories
Allured of heavier suns in mightier skies.
Thine ears knew all the wandering watery sighs

Where the sea sobs round Lesbian promontories.

In order to understand the strange genius
of Baudelaire, it is essential to realize the
nature of "decadence." Arthur HoHtscher, in
a brilliant monograph,* from which are taken
the pictures accompanying this article, offers
an ingenious and at the same time convincing
interpretation of the school. He explains that
a generation of poets descended from the ro-
manticists has been designated as "decadent."

They were given that name not because of
their resemblance to certain writers of an-
tiquity to whom the same term had been ap-
plied and whose works mirrored the ancient
civilization in its bloom, but because their
deeply rooted individual culture, expressed in
their works, has placed them in strong oppo-
sition to the civilization of their own time.
Their peculiarity may be partially accounted
for, not only by temperamental differentiation,
but by the exaggeration of this differentiation,
owing to the necessity of self-defense which
forced them to overemphasize their isolation
from the remainder of mankind. Viewed in
this light, their worship of sin, their frank
avowal of the "roses and raptures of vice,"
their surrender to impulses removed from na-
ture, their rejection of the compromises of
hypocritical morality, assume the aspect of a
revolt of lonesome souls animated only by
satiety and disgust, who disdainfully lay down
their weapons in the unequal combat with life.
Hugo, Balzac, Flaubert, the writer tells us,
are the sovereigns under whom Baudelaire

^Craklks Baudblairx. By Arthur HolitscLer.
Marquardt & Company, Berlin.

Bard,

A HASHISH DREAM
Baudelaire's portrait of himself under the influ-
ence of his favorite drug.

5i6

CURRENT LITERATURE

"FLOWERS OF EVIL"

The cover-design bv Felicien Rops for the Brussels
lelaire s suppressed poems.

edition of Baudel

lived. We mark Hugo's prophetic dream of
far-off heavens, Balzac's grim analysis prob-
ing the vitals of life and passion, and Flau-
bert's vision cruelly disentangling the most
secret reflexes of emotion. "Among them,
Baudelaire seems like the figure of Rodin's
thinker, torn from rough-hewn rock, yet more
human; naked, and in convulsions that still
palpitate, his whole body twisted in painful
rebellion against an incomprehensible damna-
tion."

The principal work of Charles Baudelaire,
"The Flowers of Evil," dates from 1859. It is
small in bulk, faultless in execution. A num-
ber of translations have been attempted, of
which F. P. Sturm's* is the most recent.

Baudelaire's kinship with Poe is at all times
evident. It was he who introduced the Ameri-
can poet to Europe, and made him almost a
classic. Baudelaire's acumen as a critic was
phenomenal. He discovered not only Poe, but
also Wagner and Monet. His mind was es-
sentially analytic, and perhaps greatest in self-
analysis. In a series of strange, fantastic
sketches, entitled "Artificial Paradises," he en-

■The Pobms of Baudelaire. Selected and Translated
from the French, with an Introduction by F. P. Sturm.
Walter Scott, London.

deavored to communicate his emotions under
the influence of the subtle poisons of the East —
opium and hashish. Baudelaire's self-portrait,
illustrating the effects of hashish upon himself,
is reproduced herewith.

Baudelaire loved to surround himself with
an atmosphere of mysticism and wickedness.
He pretended to have vast hidden sources of
income. In reality he lived on a few sous a
day. One of the rumors started by himself
was that he had killed his father in Brussels
and eaten him up! Yet his letters,' also re-
cently published, reveal him as one of the most
conscientious and devoted of sons. From his
travels in the tropics he brought with him
a negress whom he loved with a curious
passion. It is said that in her later years she
took to drinking and beat him, but he re-
mained true to her even unto the end.

Even subtler than his poems in verse are his
poems in prose. Of these a masterly transla-
tion* by Arthur Symons exists. "These prose
poems," says The Academy, "are the works of
a man who is in prison, whose intellect is
dying of horror, whose soul is trembling with
disgust." To quote further:

"He is like a priest who celebrates an endless
Mass before a Deity in whom he does not believe ;
and for him honey is a poison that has lost its
savor and the salt of our tears is too sweet. For
him the visible world has never existed: It is
only in his own soul that he finds any reality.
Thus, when asked what he loves best, it is only
after many repudiations that he decides it is the
clouds that delight him :

'The clouds which pass — over there — the marvel-
ous clouds.'

And he insists upon nothing but the mood, and
thus as an artist he is always true to himself; he
will never excuse himself from perfection, and,
small tho his work is in quantity, it is a mon-
ument. We see him at last robbed of every-
thing, the tortured nerves that have driven him
mad still impotently twitching, a dead man,
tho his eyes are still alive, long before he
really died. And it is this man, a decadent, an
esthete, who, atheist though he be, in some not
inconsiderable way is the founder of the modern
symbolist school, which has already learned to
look beyond him to those mystics who fled from
the tyranny of the appearance into the profound
reality which is God. All his life Baudelaire may
be said to have sought in the dust and dirt for
the lilies of the love of God, lilies that in his
writings festered and smelt far worse than weeds
that in our spring shall tower again spotless into
the infinite pure sky. For, as we have been re-
minded: "We also are ancestors and stand in the
sunshine of to-morrow.' "

•Charles Baudelaire, Lettres. 1841-186S. Mercure de

France, Paris.
*PoEMs IN Prose by Baudelaire. Translated by Arthur

Symons. Elkin Mathews, London.

LITERATURE AMD ART

S17

THE "UNKNOWN QUANTITY *MN HAWTHORNE'S

PERSONALITY

N a review of Hawthorne's first suc-
cessful book — "Twice Told Tales"—
Longfellow, who was one of his old
college friends, wrote this significant
description of his enigmatic personal quality:
"A calm, thoughtful face seems to be looking
at you from every page; with now a pleasant
smile, and now a shade of sadness stealing over
its features. Sometimes, tho not often, it glares
wildly at you, with a strange and painful
expression, as, in the German romance, the
bronze knocker of the Archivarius Lindhorst
makes up faces at the Student Anselmus."
Here in a few words Longfellow has given us
a fine portrait of Hawthorne and the distin-
guishing characteristic of his work, — that
"mysterious unknown quantity" which, accord-
ing to Mr. Frank Preston Stearns, his latest
biographer,* was probably "the nucleus or tap-
root of his genius." Without it, Hawthorne
might have added only one more to the long
list of elegant and rather imitative New Eng-
land writers.

But Hawthorne never imitated anyone. His
was a singular and solitary genius. "This
cursed habit of solitude," he once wrote to a
friend, deprecating in himself that very condi-
tion of mind and body which made him so
supremely what he was, almost against his
will ; for it is evident that Hawthorne would
have gladly led a more social life. The Brook
Farm experiment, his native democracy, which
made him "quite as likely to take an interest
in a store clerk as in a famous writer," the
atmosphere of his stories and romances, all
show a certain sense of human solidarity quite
different from the intense individualism or
philosophic humanitarianism of his day. We
even find him regretting somewhat that his
leisure time in the Salem Custom House had
not been spent in jotting down the yarns of
old shipmasters and every-day observations for
literary use, rather than brooding remotely
over "The Scarlet Letter." Yet our literature
contains many fine sea-yarns and contemporary
documents, but only one "Scarlet Letter."

In college, Longfellow was an associate of
his teachers, — a studious, ambitious, rather
priggish young gentleman. Hawthorne had his
cronies in the village inn, graduated number
eighteen in a class of thirty-eight, and in spite

•The Life and Genius of Nathaniel Hawthorne. By-
Frank Preston Stearns. J. B. Lippincott Company.

of his gravity and reserve was known amongst
his fellow-students as "Hath." Imagine them
addressing Longfellow as anything but Henry !
Withal there vvas a certain commort-sense, a
kind of Yankee shrewdness about the dreamy,
unaccountable Hawthorne; and as for his Pu-
ritanism (or rather lack of it) Mr. Stearns
makes the following subtle distinction :

"Hawthorne's superioritv to Longfellow as an
artist consisted essentially in this, that he was
never an optimist. Puritanism looked upon
human nature with a hostile eye, and was in-
clined to see evil in it where none existed; and
Doctor Channing, who inaugurated the great
moral movement which swept Puritanism away
in this country, tended, as all reformers do, to the
opposite extreme — to that skepticism of evil which,
as George Brandes says, is greatly to the advan-
tage of hypocrites and sharpers. This was justifia-
ble in Doctor Channing, but among his followers
it has often degenerated into an inverted or
horneopathic kind of Puritanism — a habit of ex-
cusing the faults of others, or of themselves, on
the score of good intentions — a habit of self- justi-
fication, and even to the perverse belief that, as
everything is for the best, whatever we do in this
world must be for good. To this class of senti-
mentalists the most serious evil is truth-seeing and
truth-speaking. . . .

"Hawthorne, with his eye ever on the mark, pur-
sued a rniddle course. He separated himself from
the Puritans without joining their opponents, and
thus obtained the most independent standpoint of
any American writer of his time; and if this
alienated him from the various humanitarian
movements that were going forward, it was never-
theless a decided advantage for the work he was
intended to do. In this respect he resembled
Scott, Thackeray and George Eliot."

Of the problem of evil, and of Hawthorne's
intense preoccupation with it, Mr. Stearns
writes further :

"What we call evil or sin is merely the negative
of civilization — a tendency to return to the origi-
nal savage condition. In the light of history,
there is always progress or improvement, but in
individual cases there is often the reverse, and
so far as the individual is concerned evil is no
imaginary metaphor, but as real and absolute as
what we call good. . . .

"In many families there are evil tendencies
which, if they are permitted to increase, will take
permanent hold, like a bad demon, of some weak
individual, and rnake of him a terror and a tor-
ment to his relatives — fortunate if he is not in a
position of authority. . . . When a crime is
committed within the precincts of good society,
we are greatly shocked ; but we do not often
notice the debasement of character which leads
down to it. and still more rarely notice the in-
stances in which fear or some other motive ar-
rests demoralization before the final step, and
leaves the delinquent as it were in a condition of

5i8

CURRENT LITERATURE

moral suspense. It was in such tragic situations
that Hawthorne found the material which was
best suited to the bent of his genius. . . .
His eyes penetrate the masks and wrappings
which cover human nature, as the Rontgen rays
penetrate the human body."

Hawthorne held himself gently aloof from
the Transcendentalists and the Emersonian cir-
cle. It does not appear that he ever even
studied "The Critique of Pure Reason." He
found Margaret Fuller seated on a Concord
hillside, one day, reading the book which he
"did not understand, and could not afterward
recollect," — perhaps because of his aversion
for the reader. Writes Mr. Stearns:

"His mind was wholly of the artistic order — the
most perfect type of an artist, one might say,
living at that time, — and a scientific analysis of
the mental faculties could have been as distaste-
ful to him as the dissection of a human body.
History, biography, fiction, did not appear to him
as a logical chain of cause and effect, but as a
succession of pictures illustrating an ideal deter-
mination of the human race. He could not even
look at a group of turkeys without seeing a
dramatic situation in them. In addition to this,
as a true artist, he was possessed of a strong dis-
like for everything eccentric and abnormal ; he
wished for symmetry in all things, and above all
in human actions; and those restless, unbalanced
spirits who attached themselves to the transcen-
dental movement and the anti-slavery cause, were
particularly objectionable to him."

In "The Old Manse," Hawthorne himself
says of Concord, "Never was a poor little
country village infested with such a variety of
queer, strangely dressed, oddly behaved mor-
tals, most of whom took upon themselves to be
important agents of the world's destiny, yet
were simply bores of a very intense water."
Nevertheless, it was inevitable, as Mr. Stearns
points out, that Hawthorne should be influ-
enced, even if unconsciously, by the great wave
of transcendental thought. No writer of the
nineteenth century, he maintains, affirms more
persistently the indestructibility of spirit,
which is the very essence of Transcendental-
ism.

With Emerson, as with everyone else in the
world, excepting perhaps his wife and chil-
dren, the "unknown quantity" in Hawthorne
proved a barrier to any great intimacy. "It
would seem to be part of the irony of Fate,"
writes Mr. Stearns, "that they should have
lived on the same street, and have been obliged
to meet and speak with each other." For he
adds:

"One was like sunshine, the other shadow
Emerson was transparent, and wished to be so-
he had nothing to conceal from friend or enemy'
Hawthorn^ was simply impenetrable. Emerson
was cordial and moderately sympathetic. Haw-

thorne was reserved, but his sympathies were as
profound as the human soul itself. To study
human nature as Hawthorne and Shakespeare
did, and to make models of their acquaintances
for works of fiction, Emerson would have con-
sidered a sin ; while the evolution of sin and its
effect on character was the principal study of
Hawthorne's life. One was an optimist, and the
other what is sometimes unjustly called a pessi-
mist ; that is, one who looks facts in the face and
sees people as they are. . . .

"The world will never know what these two
great men thought of one another. Hawthorne
has left some fragmentary sentences concerning
Emerson, such as 'that everlasting rejecter of
all that is, and seeker for he knows not what,'
and 'Emerson the mystic, stretching his hand out
of cloud-land in vain search for something real;'
but he likes Emerson's ingenuous way of interro-
gating people, 'as if every man had something to
give him.' However, he makes no attempt at a
general estimate; although this expression should
also be remembered: 'Clergymen, whose creed
had become like an iron band about their brows,
came to Emerson to obtain relief,' — a sincere
recognition of his spiritual influence."

Emerson, it seems, was not quite so kindly
disposed toward his difficult and sensitive
neighbor. In "Society and Solitude" he re-
marks of him: "Whilst he suffered at being
seen where he was, he consoled himself with
the delicious thought of the inconceivable num-
ber of places where he was not"; and adds:
"He had a remorse running to despair, of his
social gaucheries, and walked miles and miles
to get the twitching out of his face, the starts
and shrugs out of his shoulders." Moreover,
he had no very high opinion of Hawthorne's
writings, preferring Charles Reade's "Christie
Johnstone" to "The Scarlet Letter," and scof-
fing at "The Marble Faun." The "unknown
quantity" had for him no charm, — only his dis-
approval.

Hawthorne's well-knovm aversion for Mar-
garet Fuller was probably no more than a curi-
ous matter of temperament; and his meeting
with that other great woman, Fanny Kemble.
in the Berkshires, was, we are told, "like a
collision of the' centrifugal and centripetal
forces." "For once," says Mr. Steams, "Haw-
thorne may be said to have met his antipodes."
And they admired one another.

The genius of Hawthorne, which Mr.
Stearns places amongst the very greatest in
the literature of the world, up to a certain
point is clear,— a simple absorption in dreams,
fanciful or reminiscent; then, slowly, if we
have really given ourselves up to these dreams
— the clairvoyant vision — there comes an
ominous darkening, the "mysterious unknown
quantity" takes possession of us, we are fas-
cinated by that strange and painful glare,—
but not if we are Emersonian philosophers.

LITERATURE AND ART

519

THE RADIANT PERSONALITY OF FREDERIC LEIGHTON

HEN George Eliot put into the
mouth of one of her characters the
exclamation, "Va ! your human talk
and doings are a tame jest; the only
passionate life is in form and color!" she all
unconsciously formulated the philosophy of
every true artist. And Mrs. Russell Barring-
ton, who quotes the words in her new biog-
raphy* of Lord Leighton, feels that they may
be applied with peculiar felicity to the person-
ality of this splendid and highly gifted Eng-
lishman. If ever a life was utterly dedicated
to the expression of radiant form and glowing
color it was his. "It was as if," says Mrs. Bar-
ring^on, "amid the sober brown and gray plu-
mage of our quiet-colored English birds,
through the mists and fogs of our northern
clime, there had sped across the page of our
nineteenth-century history the flight of some
brilliant-hued flamingo, emitting flashes of
light and color in his way." She adds: "No
one, I believe, has ever painted the luminous
quality of white, as it is seen under heated

"The Life, Letters and Works of Frederic Leighton.
By Mrs. Russell Barringlon. Two volumes. The Mac-
millan Company.

sunlight in the South, with the same charm as
Leighton. . . . He seemed always hap-
piest when the key of his pictures and sketches
was light and sunlit."

It was the eager craving for light and color
that drove Frederic Leighton as a boy to
Italy, and that kept him there for many years,
during the formative period of his artistic
career. It was this same passion for radiant
forms that carried him to Greece, to Africa,
to France. From Florence he drew the in-
spiration for his first great picture; from
Greek mythology the ideas that lent themselves
most readily to his creative purpose.

The story is told of how the youthful
Frederic's father, while living in Florence,
showed Hiram Powers, the American sculp-
tor, some of his son's drawings, and asked :
"Shall I make him a painter?" The sculptor
replied : "Sir, you cannot help -yourself ; na-
ture has made him one already." Yet it was
not without misgivings that the elder Leighton
established his boy in a studio in Rome. His
own bent was philosophical and scholarly,
rather than artistic. The mother, too, looked
with grave suspicion on the artistic life.

(;rep:k girls picking up shells by the seashore"

One. of Leigiiton's many enchanting studies in form and light. "He seemed always happiest," says Mrs.
Russell Barrington, "when the key of his pictures was light and sunlit; in such pictures as 'Greek Girls' and 'The
Bath of Psyche,' and others remarkable for their fairness and their light, pure tone." This painting is owned
by Joseph Chamberlain.

$20

CURRENT LITERATURE

From a Painting by Watts

A NINETEENTH CENTURY GREEK
"Probably no Englishman ever approached the
Greek of the Periclean period so nearly as did
Leighton," says Mrs. Russell Barrington.

and wrote Frederic long letters warning him
against the temptations that beset Bohemian
circles. Frederic himself, who was as hand-
some and magnetic as he was accomplished,
was too unmistakably the artist in his every

fiber to allow himself to be deflected from the
path he had chosen. In his frequent letters
home he signed himself "dutifully and affec-
tionately;" but he insisted on living his own
life in his own way, as strong natures have
a habit of doing.

During the early part of his career, the two
dominant influences in his life were a man and
a woman — the man. Prof. Eduard von Steinle,
of Frankfort-on-the-Main ; the woman, Mrs.
Adelaide Sartoris, a daughter of Charles Kem-
ble and sister of Fanny Kenible, the actress
and Shakespearian reader. Leighton first met
Steinle in 1845. From then until the end of
his life he called him "master," submitted his
work to his criticism, and loved him devotedly.
Steinle was a Pre-Raphaelite, of the school of
Cornelius and Overbeck. He was a strong
Catholic; his art was austere; and at first
thought it is difficult to understand why he
cast such a glamor over the imagination of the
young Englishman. But Leighton himself has
given us the reasons for his adoration. He
found in Steinle not merely great talent but
genuine "sincerity of emotion." The German
painter reverenced his vocation as one which
should be sanctified by the purest aims and the
highest aspirations. And since every master's
nature is reflected, to a greater or less extent,
in that of his pupil, it cannot but be illuminat-
ing to read what Mrs. Barrington says of
Steinle and his relation to Leighton :

"Steinle's nature explains that of his pupil; for
Leighton was, in an intimate sense, introduced to
a full knowledge of his own self by Steinle. This

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"THE CAPTIVE ANDROMACHE"

(By Frederic Leighton)

th. Ai,*^**„lV**-' °* i'^J?* *"•* shadow, in which the loneliness of the captive widow is thrown into bold relief hv

the nch coloring of her environment, and the caressing parents and child in the foreground. ^

LITERATURE AND ART

521

THE PICTURE THAT MADE LEIGHTON FAMOUS
"Cimabue's Madonna" was painted m Rome in 1855 during the youthful and happiest period of Leighton's
life. When first exhibited at the Royal Academy in London it created a sensation. Ruskin and Rossetti
praised it. The Queen bought it. Like Byron, the young painter awakened one morning to find himself
famous.

influence, to use his own words, written more than
thirty years later, was the 'indehble seal,' because
it made Leighton one with himself. The impress
was given which steadied the whole nature. There
was no vagueness of aim, no swaying to and fro,
after he had once made Steinle his master. The
religious nature of the German artist had thrown
a certain spell over him. Leighton possessed ever
the most beautiful of all qualities — the power of
feeling enthusiasm, of loving unselfishly, and gen-
erously adoring what he admired most. Fortu-
nate it may possibly have been that his father's
strict training developed his splendid intellectual
powers at an early age; fortunate it certainly was
that, when emancipated from other trammels, he
entered the service of art under an influence so
pure, so vital in spiritual passion, as was that of
Steinle."

Leighton's friendship vv^ith Adelaide Sartoris
began during the first year of his residence in
Rome, in 1853, and lasted until her death in
1879. It seems to have been his one ardent
friendship with a woman, and undoubtedly
constitutes the most romantic episode in his
career. Mrs. Sartoris was a married woman
with children, and her husband haS some rep-
utation as an art critic. She herself was an
artistic enthusiast. It was said of her that tho
she did not paint she was a true painter in her
sense of beauty of composition, in her great
feeling for art. She had been on the stage for
awhile. She was a great singer. In a burst
of enthusiasm, Leighton once called her "the
greatest living cantatrice." But then he al-
ways spoke of her in superlatives ! She had
"the most beautiful mouth in the world" and
"the finest head and shoulders, artistically
speaking," he had ever seen, "with the excep-
tion only of Dante's." He recommended her

to Steinle as "my dearest friend, and the no-
blest and cleverest woman I have ever met";
and he wrote to his sister: "How I wish you
could hear her sing ! It would enlarge your
ideas and open up your heart."

The Sartorises were well-to-do people, and
entertained a brilliant circle of friends. "Mrs.
Sartoris," Leighton wrote home, "has the
judgment and courage to ask to her house
nobody but those she likes for some reason or
other, for which reason her house is the most
sociable in the world ; her 'intimes' are a com-
plete medley, from the Duke of Wellington
and Robert Brovming down to a poor artist
with one change of boots." Sometimes the
whole company would adjourn to the Cam-
pagna, outside of Rome. According to Leigh-
ton's account:

"I have given myself rest and recreation in the
way of several picnics in the Campagna under the
auspices of Mesdames Sartoris and Fanny Kemble.
We are a most jovial crew. The following are
the dramatis personae: First the two above-
mentioned ladies; then Mr. Lyons, the English
diplomatist here; he is not ambassador, nor is
he in any way supposed to represent the English
people here; he is only a sort of negotiator;
however, a most charming man he assuredly is,
funny, dry, jolly, imperturbably good tempered;
then Mr. Ampere, a French savant, as genial,
witty, .amusing old gentleman as ever was; then
Browning the poet, a never-failing fountain of
quaint stories and funny sayings ; next Harriet
Hosmer, a little American sculptress of great
talent, the queerest, best-natured little chap pos-
sible; another girl, nothing particular, and your
humble servant, who, except when art is touched,
plays the part of humble listener, in which ca-
pacity he makes amends for the vehemence with

^2i

CURRENT LITERATURE

■•Tllli RETURN OF PERSEPHONE"
(By Frederic Leighton)

A haunting: representation of Persephone's emergence from the nether
world and joyful restoration to her mother's arms.

which he starts up when certain subjects are
touched which relate to his own trade; in other
things silence, alas! becomes him, ignorant as he
is, and having clean forgotten all he ever knew !"

Leighton never married. He could not
marry Mrs. Sartoris,. and he said specifically
that he had not "the slightest wish" to marry
anyone else. He seemed content if only this
lady would remain the guiding star of his life.
Just how far she influenced his art we cannot
know ; but it is safe to say that she influenced
it profoundly. He painted her portrait, and
made the illustrations for a book that she
wrote; and we know that one of his greatest
pictures, "Heracles Wrestling with Death for
the Body of Alcestis," was simply the symbolic
representation of his grief when she- was
stricken, and for a time lay sick unto death.

The days that Leighton spent in Rome, be-
fore he had made either name or fame, he

always regarded as the happiest
of his life. It was during this
period that he painted his first
serious subject, "Cimabue's Ma-
donna," and the picture marks
an epoch in his career. "The
happiness Leighton enjoyed dur-
ing the two years when this sub-
ject occupied his thoughts," re-
marks Mrs. Barrington, "seems
to have been reflected in the ac-
tual vigor of the painting. It
was evidently finally executed
with an exuberant feeling of sat-
isfaction." She goes on to say :

"The subject which inspired his
first great effort appealed espe-
cially to Leighton from more than
one point of view. In the histori-
cal incident which he chose was
evinced the great reverence and
appreciation with which the early
Florentines regarded art, even
when expressed m the archaic
form of Cimabue's painting. The
fact of his picture of the Madonna
causing so much public enthusi-
asm was in itself a glorification of
art; a witness that in the integ-
ral feelings of these Italians such
enthusiasm for art could be ex-
cited in all classes of the people.
One of the doctrines Leighton
most firmly believed, and most
often expressed, was that of the
necessity of a desire for beauty
among the various classes of a
nation, poor and rich alike, before
art of the best could become
current coin. In painting the
scene of Cimabue's Madonna be-
ing carried in triumph through
the streets to the Church of Santa
Maria Novella, Leighton felt ' he
could record not only his own reverence for his
vocation, but the fact that all who follow art with
love and sincerity find a common ground, what-
ever the class may be to which they belong. To
Steinle art and religion were as one, and his pupil
had so far been inoculated with his master's feeling
that, as his friend and brother artist, Briton Riviere,
writes : 'Arf was to Leighton almost a religion,
and his own particular belief almost a creed.' "

The picture was sent to London, where it
was exhibited at the Royal Academy. It
created a sensation. Ruskin and Rossetti
praised it. The Queen bought it. Like Byron,
the young painter in Rome awakened one
morning to find himself famous. His friends
and brother artists celebrated his honors by
giving him a festal dinner. And Leighton
showed the essential generosity of his nature
by immediately visiting three less successful
artists than himself and buying pictures from
each of them.

LITERATURE AND ART

523

In 1855 Leighton established himself in
London, and came into contact with such in-
fluential artistic personalities as Ruskin, Hol-
man Hunt and Millais. With Watts, whom
he met at this time, he entered into a friend-
ship that lasted for forty years. He also visited
Paris, and was greeted warmly by Ary Schef-
fer, Robert Fleury and Troyon. But just at
this juncture, when everything seemed to be
in his favor, he experienced a humiliating re-
buff. Whether from carelessness or over-con-
fidence, he painted a picture, "The Triumph of
Music," which fell far below the standard of
his first work. It was as universally con-
demned as the "Cimabue" had been praised.
Leighton finally came to feel the justice of the -
verdict. He redeemed himself, in part, with
his "Romeo and Juliet," a spirited and beauti-
ful creation. "The Triumph of Music" was
his first and last failure, and it taught him a
lesson that he never forgot.

According to Mrs. Harrington's view, the
bases on which the superstructure of his after
career rested are to be found "in unflagging
industry, in ever striving to make his life
worthy of the beauty and dignity of his voca-
tion as an artist, and in ever endeavoring to
make his work an adequate exponent of 'the
mysterious treasure that was laid up in his
heart': his passion for beauty." She adds:

"I remember once casually remarking to
Leighton how much easier writing was than
painting. He answered quickly but seriously —
quite impressively: 'Believe me nothing is easy
if it is done as well as you can possibly do it'
This was Leighton's creed of creeds."

Out of his creed, and out of his passion for
beauty, Leighton created hundreds of paint-
ings. In all the history of art one hardly
knows where to look for an artist so prolific,
or an artist who felt so intensely, and can
make the spectator feel so vividly, the en-
chanting grace of beautiful forms. If we de-
sire panoramic splendor we shall find it in
"The Daphnephoria" and "The Captive An-
dromache." For one who admires intoxicating
beauty of color, it is in "Summer Moon" and
"Flaming June." The seeker for dramatic in-
tensity will discover its authentic image before
"Clytemnestra" and "Electra at the Tomb of
Agamemnon." There is a sense, remarks Mrs.
Barrington, in which it may be said that
Leighton created out of sheer vitality. He
was in love with the world, and "was pos-
sessed of a magnificent facility — a facility
which left the strength of his emotions fresh
and free to enjoy the ecstasies of admiration
and delight which nature had given him." Not

"CLYTEMNESTRA"
Pronounced by G., F. Watts an example of Leigh-
ton "at his happiest." The picture shows Clytem-
nestra watching from the battlements of Argos for
the beacon fires which are to announce the return of
Agamemnon. It has all the grandeur of Greek
tragedy.

the least of Leighton's qualities was his mar-
velous versatility. "In his art," says Mrs.
Barrington, "we find no monopoly of any one
passion either recorded or suggested."

"He painted the passion of lovers in 'Paolo
and Francesca,' but with no more sincere in-
terest than he did other feelings ; than, for in-
stance, his fervent and reverent worship of art
in 'Cimabue's Madonna,' or in the ecstasy of joy
in the child flying into the embrace of her mother
in 'The Return of Persephone,' or in the ex-
quisite tender feeling of Elisha breathing re-
newed life into the Shunamite's son, or in that
sense of rest and peace after struggle in the
lovely figure of 'Ariadne' when Death releases
her from her pain; or in the yearning for that
peace in the 'King David:' 'Oh that I had wings
like a dove ! for then would I fly away and be at
rest.'

''As the climax of nature's loveliest creations,
Leighton treated the human form with coura-
geous purity. In his undraped figures there is
the same total absence of the mark of the degen-
erate as there is in everything he did and was;
no remote hint at any double-entendre veiled by
esthetic refinement, any more than there is in

524

CURRENT LITERATURE

the Bible, the Iliad, or in the sculpture of
Pheidias."

Toward the end of his life honors crowded
thick upon Leighton. In 1878, a year before
the death of Mrs. Sartoris, he was elected
President of the Royal Academy. Steinle was
still alive, to send him sincere congratulations.
In 1885 Leighton became a baronet; in 1895 a
Lord. He passed through life like the prince
in a fairy-tale. He always had "a princely
way" about him, says his fellow-artist, Walter
Crane ; and he held his court in the won-
drously decorated Arab Hall of his home in
Holland Park Road. Since his death the
house has been acquired by the nation and is
being preserved as a memorial. Mrs. Barring-
ton recalls, with emotion, one of the last oc-
casions on which its hospitable doors were
thrown open to his friends. A musicale was
being held that day. Leighton's pictures,
"Lachrymae" and "Flaming June," stood on
the easels, and Joachim, the great Joachim,
played. But some who were present were

haunted by a presentiment of coming sorrow,
and one of the singers of the occasion seemed
to voice their emotion in Charles Kingsley's
ballad :

When all the world is old, lad.

And all the trees are brown ;
And all the sport is stale, lad,

And all the wheels run down.
Creep home, and take your place there,

The spent and maim'd among;
God grant you find one face there

You loved when all was young.

Leighton played his part as host manfully,
but he was already sick, and after he had dis-
missed his guests turned back lonely, ashen
pale and haggard, into the House Beautiful.
A few months later the end came.

"Instead of strains of perfect song and music
hailing their completion, the six pictures of .the
next year looked down on the coffin, and over a
rich carpeting of flowers. In the center, above
the head, the sun-loving 'Clytie' stretched out
her arms, bidding a passionate farewell to her
god."

OUR MOST EXQUISITE LITERARY CRAFTSMAN

The workmanship wherewith the gold is
wrought
Adds yet a richness to the richest gold ;
Who lacks the art to shape his thought, I hold,

Were little poorer if he lacked the thought.
The statue's slumber were unbroken still
In the dull marble, had the hand no skill.
Disparage not the magic touch that gives
The formless thought the grace whereby it lives.

HE above-quoted lines are taken from
a poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich,
and may appropriately be regarded
as a confession of his poetic faith.
From the beginning of his literary career until
its end, so recently mourned, he was domi-
nantly the fastidious craftsman, cultivating
"the magic touch" and "the art to shape his
thought." His style is likened by the New
York Evening Post to a combination of Lowell
and Lafcadio Hearn. "To the wit of Lowell,"
it says, "he added the exacting literary con-
science of Hearn." And the New York Out-
look finds his poetic workmanship "like the
tracery on a Damascus blade, which embel-
lishes the surface without weakening the fiber."
The fastidiousness of Aldrich was undoubt-
edly rooted in his passion for perfection. He
could not bear to let a verse or a phrase go
from under his hand unless it had achieved
what he regarded as finality of expression.

"Perhaps no other American poet has been so
truly the lapidary as he," remarks the Spring-
field Republican, "making his fancies or feel-
ings into verse so perfect that it was almost a
pain to read it and feel that all this must end
when Aldrich let fall his pen." In similar
spirit, the Chicago Dial comments:

"Delicate artistry was, indeed, the most char-
acteristic mark of his work. One of his earlier
poems recounts the things he would do if the
soul of Herrick dwelt within him. They were
the very things that he afterwards did, and not
merely the exquisite art of his exemplar, but
also with an instinct for purity that puts to
shame the amatory parson of Devonshire. Even
more than of Herrick, however, does his work
remind us of Landor, whose trick of epigram,
burdened with a wistful pathos, he caught with
extraordinary facility.

October turned my maple's leaves to gold;

The most are gone now; here and there one lin-
gers:

Soon these will slip from out the twigs' weak
hold,

Like coins between a dying miser's fingers.

What could be more Landorian than that? Only
the image of the maple leaf marks it as a distinct-
ive product of the New England soil from which
the poet sprang. Yet this 'enamored architect of
airy rhyme,' so delicate of fancy so graceful of
utterance, had also weighty matters to disclose,
and a weighty manner for their expression. He

LITERATURE AND ART

525

found, as so many other poets have done, in the
sonnet the form most fit for his serious mood.
Such sonnets as 'Unguarded Gates,' 'Fredericks-
burg,' and 'By the Potomac' are the work of no
lyrical trifler; they are examples of the deepest
thought and the noblest deliverance that our
poetical literature can offer."

Aldrich was far, however, from being a poet
only. It is safe to say that he is more widely
knovm by his prose writings than by his verse.
The Dial recalls with peculiar pleasure the
sense of "delightful surprise" and "piquant
charm" with which such stories as "Marjorie
Daw" and "Prudence Palfrey" and "The
Queen of Sheba" burst upon the reading world.
It continues:

"And where is the American boy, young or old,
who ever read 'The Story of a Bad Boy,' and
failed straightway to give it an abiding-place in
his affections? It is a juvenile classic, if there
ever was such a thing, having its place beside
'Tom Brown at Rugby,' 'Treasure Island,' and
perhaps two or three others. And there are yet
other volumes of choicely-fashioned prose, taking
now the form of fiction, now the form of im-
pressions de voyage. Nor must we forget the
miniature prose tragedy of 'Mercedes,' effective
both to read and to witness in performance. That
work and the blank verse 'Judith of Bethulia,'
represent the author's contributions to the prac-
ticable drama, and gives evidence that he was
both a playwright and a poet."

"The Story of a Bad Boy," as all the world
knows, is autobiographical. Aldrich was him-
self the "bad boy" of the narrative, and his ac-
count of the school days at Rivermouth, the
burning of the old stage coach, and the fight
with "Red Conway" had a basis in fact.
"Rivermouth" was Portsmouth, New Hamp-
shire, the town in which he was born and edu-
cated. He belonged to the decade that gave
birth to Edwin Booth and Bret Harte, Mr.
Howells, Mr. Stedman and Mr. Clemens, and
was on terms of personal intimacy with them
all. He seems to have had something of a
genius for friendship, and the romantic attach-
ment of Henry L. Pierce, who died in 1896,
leaving him a fortune, has often been com-
mented upon. Mark Twain has credited Al-
drich with more wit than he himself possesses,
and he writes in his autobiography :

"Aldrich has never had his peer for prompt and
pithy and witty and humorous sayings. None has
equaled him, certainly none has surpassed him, in
the felicity of phrasing with which he clothed
these children of his fancy. Aldrich was always
brilliant, he couldn't help it; he is a fire-opal set
round with rose diamonds ; when he is not speak-
ing, you know that his dainty fancies are twink-
ling and glimmering around him ; when he speaks,
the diamonds flash."

Mr. Howells, whom Aldrich succeeded as
editor of The Atlantic Monthly, at a time when

that magazine enjoyed the reputation of being
"the best edited magazine in the English lan-
guage," pays him the following tribute in "Lit-
erary Friends and Acquaintances" :

"I should be false to my own grateful sense of
beauty in the work of this poet if I did not at
all times recognize his constancy to an ideal which
his name stands for. He is known in several
kinds, but to my thinking he is best in a certain
nobler kind of poetry ; a serious sort in which the
thought holds him above the scrupulosities of the
art he loves and honors so much. Sometimes the
file slips in the hold, as the file must and will ; it
is but an instrument at the best; but there is no
mistouch in the hand that lays itself upon the
reader's heart with the pulse of the poet's heart
quick and true in it. There are sonnets of his,
grave, and simple, and lofty, which I think of
with the glow and thrill possible only from very
beautiful poetry, and which impart such an emo-
tion as we can feel only

When a great thought strikes along the brain

And flushes all the cheek."

It is to Aldrich as a poet that the critical
judgment, after all, reverts. And Henry M.
Alden, the veteran editor of Harper's Maga-
zine, protests, with Mr. Howells, against the
idea that Aldrich was artificer and craftsman
only. "If he had the deftness of Horace," says
Mr. Alden, "he had also the grace of Virgil.
And, while his verse borrowed no fire from
that fane in which Whittier was a worshiper,
while it was Parnassian in its reserve rather
than Delphic in prophetic ecstasy, it never
lacked sane and natural feeling." To this high
appreciation should be added that of Ferris
Greenslet in The Evening Post:

"The perfect finish of his work, its delicacy,
which, as Hawthorne wrote, one hardly dared to
breathe upon, have, perhaps, been too much em-
phasized in defining his poetic achievement One
has only to take up the volume of 'Songs and
Sonnets,' which represents his own last selection
and arrangement of his work, to find qualities of
romance, of imaginative strength, of wistful hu-
manity that blend in an impression of uncommon
range and vitality. Take such pieces as 'On an
Intaglio Head of Mmerva,' 'The Rose,' 'Palabras
Carifiosas,' with their exquisite half-playful sen-
timent, their last felicity of expression; take the
noble elegiac strain of 'Sargent's Portrait of Ed-
win Booth at the Players,' and 'Tennyson ;' take
such haunting and poignant bits of frisson as
'Identity' and 'The One White Rose' ; take the
perfect sonnet 'Sleep,' and 'Fredericksburg,' with
its quiet beautiful beginning, its tragic and tre-
mendous climax, and you have a group of poems,
representative rather than exceptional, that is as
likely to last as anything that American literature
has to show. Turn from them to anything save
the very best of Longfellow's, or Lowell's, to
Whitman's Titanic mouthings, to the average
characteristic piece of Emerson or Poe: you find,
perhaps, an ampler air, a deeper note, but you
find also passages of surplusage and moments of
langfuor. None of our poets has his precious

526

CURRENT LITERATURE

cargo so
years as
so often
likely to
viduality.
had little
anything

neatly stowed for the voyage down the
Aldrich. And despite the polish which
makes for impersonality, none is more

create an abiding impression of indi-
Abstractions and other men's ideas

interest for him. He never expressed
but himself, and he knew well when to

have a bit of the rough block- on the polished
surface, when to break the smooth lapse of his
verse with the frank and unpremeditated line. It
is hard to think of any name in our annals that at
once suggests a quality of poetic pleasure so fine,
so constant, and so individual as the name of
'Aldrich.' "

MISTRAL: "THE HOMER OF PROVENCE

Y sole ambition," wrote Frederic
Mistral recently, "has been to pre-
serve the Provenqal language and
to do honor to my race, and this
by means of poetry." The words have the ring
of sincerity, and may be said to sum up Mis-
tral's life-work in a sentence. He began com-
posing in the Provencal tongue because he re-
sented the slurs cast on the rustics of Provence
and their language; and his writings and his
acts have been instinct from first to last with
love of his people, whom he has never forsaken
for the fleshpots of the great world.

He devoted twenty years to compiling a dic-
tionary of their language — a task in which he
nearly sacrificed his eyesight — because he be-
lieved it a duty he owed them. He agitated the
reopening to great popular spectacles of the
amphitheaters of Aries, Orange and Nimes be-
cause he considered that these superb historic
monuments rightfully belonged to them by rea-
son of their racial passion for the beautiful. He
organized all sorts of brilliant and picturesque
anniversary fetes in order to help them to per-
petuate their charming, ancestral traditions.
Finally, he founded the Museum of Provenqal
antiquities at Aries as the most practical means
of conserving for them their artistic heirlooms,
which were rapidly being carried away by col-
lectors to the four corners of the earth.

Mistral's "Memoirs,"* which have recently
been published in Paris, are instinct from cover
to cover with his passionate love for the people
of Provence. In their pages his parents and rela-
tives live again, and' the scenery, the local fetes,
the patriarchal usages, of his native village of
Maillane stand out with unforgettable vivid-
ness. Mistral, it seems, was educated at
Avignon, took his bachelor's degree at Nimes,
and was admitted to the bar at Aix. The story
of how he was first inspired to his literary
mission is best told in his own words:

"My law studies over (and, as you have seen,
I did not hurt myself by overwork), proud as a
young cock who has found an earth-worm, I ar-
rived at the Mas [the ancestral Provencal farm-

•Mes Origines: Memoirs et Recits de Fr6d6ric Mistral.
Paris: Plon-Nourrit et Cie.

house] just as the family were sitting down to
supper at the stone table, in the open air, under
the arbor which was illuminated by the last rays
of the setting sun.

" 'Good evening everybody !'
'God give you the same, Frederic!'

" 'Father, mother, everything went off well ;
and this is really the end of it!'

"'And a good riddance!' commented Madeline,
the young Piedmontese who served us at the Mas.

"And when, still standing, before all the farm-
laborers, I had given an account of my last ordeal,
my venerable father said to me simply this : 'Now,
my fine fellow, I have done my duty. You know
a great deal more than was ever taught me. It
is for you to choose your path : I leave you free.'

" 'Thank you from my heart !' I answered.
And right there — I was twenty-one at the time —
on the threshold of the paternal Mas, with rny
eyes resting on the foothills of the Alps, within
myself and of myself, I resolved: first, to revive,
to exalt in Provence the race sentiment which I
saw being annihilated under the false and anti-
natural education of all the schools; secondly, to
provoke this resurrection by the rejuvenation of
the natural and historic language of the region
against which the schools wage a war to the
death; thirdly, to restore to Provetiv-al its vogue
by infusing it with the flame of divine poesy.

"All this murmured in my soul — vaguely; but I
felt it just as I relate it to you. And, moved by this
inner tumult, this swelling of Provengal sap within
my heart, free of any desire for literary influence
or mastery, strong in my independence, which gave
me wings, assured that nothing more was coming
to hinder and distract me; one evening, dur-
ing the sowing, at sight of the laborers who were
following the plow in the furrow singing, I began
— God be praised ! — the first canto of 'Mireille.' "

"Mireille" was the poem by which Mistral
was destined to become famous, and it is a
poem unique in literary annals. "I had no
plan," he says, "except a vague, general idea
which I had not committed to paper. I pro-
posed simply to cause a passion to spring up
between two beautiful children of nature in
Provence, of different stations, and then to.
leave the action at the mercy of the winds, so.
to speak, as it is in real life." Mireille, a
word whose very sound has magic, was inev-
itably the name of Mistral's heroine. From
early childhood it had been familiar to him.
When his grandmother wished to wheedle
one of her daughters she would say: "That's,
a Mireille, that's a pretty Mireille, that'&

LITERATURE AND ART

527

Mireille, mes amours!" And his mother would
often say jestingly of this or that young girl
who passed, 'Look, there goes Mireille, mcs
amours!" But when he inquired about
Mireille nobody could tell him anything more.
He felt that there must have been a lost
legend of which only the name of the heroine
and a ray of beauty in a mist of love sur-
vived. It was enough to bring luck to a poem
which, perhaps — who knows? — was, by one
of those intuitions which poets sometimes
have, the reconstitution of a genuine romance.
To continue the narrative :

"The Mas of my father was, at this epoch, a
veritable foyer of poetry, limpid. Biblical and
idyllic. Was not this poem of Provence, with its
depths of azure and its frame of Alps, living, sing-
ing itself about me? I had only to step out mto
the open air to be fairly dazzled by it. Did 1 not
see Mireille pass, not only in my youthful dreams,
but in person ; now, in these dainty maids of
Maillane who came to gather mulberry leaves for
the silk-worms, and now in the blithesomeness
of these weeders, these hay-makers, these vinta-
gers, these olive-pickers, who went in and out of
the grain-fields, the hay-fields, the olive-orchards
and the vineyards with their white-bowed coiffes
and their bosoms bared to the breeze?

"Did not the actors of my drama — my plowmen,
my harvesters my ox-herds, and my shepherds —
move about from break_of dawn to twilight, be-
fore my young enthusiasm? Could you ask for
a finer old man, more patriarchal, more worthy
to be the prototype of my 'Master Raymon,' than
the aged Frangois Mistral, whom everybody, my
mother included, called 'The Master' and only
'The Master' ? Poor father ! Sometimes, when
the work was pressing, and he needed more help,
either to get in the hay, or to draw water from the
well, he would shout, 'Where is Frederic?'

"Although at that moment I might be stretched
under a willow lazily groping after some elusive
rime, my poor mother would reply : 'He is
writing. Don't disturb him!'

"For to him, who had read only the Holy
Scriptures and 'Don Quixote' in his youth, writing
was truly a religious office."

.Other personages who had, without know-
ing it, the gift of interesting Mistral's epic
muse were "Cousin Tourette," of the village
of Mouries, a sort of colossus, large-limbed
but lame, who always wore big leather gaiters ;
and the wood chopper Siboul, a worthy man of
Montfrin, dressed in corduroy, who came
every autumn, with his big bill-hook, to trim
the willow thickets of the Mas.

Then there was a neighbor, Xavier, a
peasant herborist, who told Mistral the Pro-
vencal names and the virtues of the simples.
It was from him that the poet obtained his
equipment of literary botany. "Luckily," he
observes, "for it is my opinion — saving their
reverences — that, our school professors, high
as well as low, would surely have been em-

THE LEADER OF THE PROVENCAL REVIVAL
Erederic Mistral's lately published "Memoirs"
reveal a singularly pure and gifted nature. His
life and writings have been instinct from first to
last with love of his people, whom he has never
forsaken for the flesh-pots of the great world.

barrassed to show me the difference between a
fuller's thistle and a sow-thistle!"

With the assistance of such collaborators,
Mistral after many years of patient and pur-
poseful, if somewhat intermittent, labor, fin-
ished his poem. A chance visit to Maillane of
the Parisian poet and critic, Adolphe Dumas,
resulted in Mistral making his first trip to
Paris, where he came into contact with La-
martine, the poetical pontiff of the period.
Lamartine, after reading his poem, saluted
him publicly as "The Homer of Provence,"
and his poetical reputation was made.

Mistral has written several volumes of
poems since, among them "Calendal," "Nerve,"
"Le Poeme du Rhone," "Les Isles d'Or" and
"La Reine Jeanne." "Le Poeme du Rhone"
is preferred by some of his fellow-Provenqaux
and by certain critics to "Mireille." But it
was through "Mireille" that his fresh and
original poetic attitude was first revealed;
it was "Mireille," more than any other one
thing, which made possible the subsequent suc-
cess of the Provenqal renaissance; and to
"Mireille," more than to any other one thing
he owed his receipt of a Nobel prize and the
commendation of President Roosevelt. And
it is by "Mireille," probably, that he will al-
ways be best known to the world at large.

Religion and Ethics

WHAT ARE THE REAL SOURCES OF HAPPINESS?

I AM made with an infinite
capacity for joy! I could be
happy enough to dance sometimes
just because the sky is blue. 1
could be happy enough to cry tear pearls just
because the grass is softly green. And when
birds sing or lovers smile at each other, or I
see a baby reach up little hands to stroke a
happy mother's face — O, do you know what it
is to feel your heart throb and pulsate because
the earth is so beautiful and human relations
so tender sweet? If you do, then you know
the joy I hunger for — the joy my whole self
craves and reaches out for — infinitely, never-
ending, day and night. I must have it. All
that is I demands it."

This cry from a woman's heart is taken from
the current issue of The Conservator (Phila-
delphia), and may be accepted as a vivid ex-
pression of a mood that probably every human
being has experienced at one time or another.
Our craving for happiness is as old as life it-
self, and down through the centuries humanity
has ever striven to discover and to cherish all
that makes for heightened joy. But happiness,
like every other ideal, perpetually eludes us;
we think we have it — and it is gone ! The man
of to-day may have a larger capacity for joy
than the man of any preceding generation ; but
he also has a larger capacity for suffering. It
is the modern, complex mind that swiftly turns
to suicide as an escape from earthly ills; it is
the moJem, complex mind that has given us
our Schopenhauers and Hartmanns.

Every thinker or teacher who claims to have
any message for humanity is compelled to meet
the demand for happiness; and at the present
time an unusual number of articles and books
are being devoted to the discussion of this topic.

The veteran editor of The Outlook, Dr.
Lyman Abbott, has written a brochure^ in
which he endeavors to define "Christ's secret
of happiness." The well-known Unitarian
minister. Dr. Thomas R. Slicer, would show
us, if it be possible, "the way to happiness."''
Ralph Waldo Trine, in his latest work,' offers
the larger vision of human wellbeing that has

'Christ's Secret of Happiness. By Lyman Abbott.

Thomas Y. Crowell & Company.
*The Way to Happiness. By Thomas R, Slicer. The

Macmillan Company.
•In the Fire of the Heart. By Ralph Waldo Trine.

McClure, Phillips & Company.

come to him since he wrote "In Tune with the
Infinite." And a new writer, James Mackaye,
indicates what he deems the true "economy of
happiness" in a lengthy and closely reasoned
exposition of Socialistic doctrine.* None of
these books, it must be conceded, covers the
subject of human happiness in a thoro or
comprehensive fashion; but each embodies a
segment of the great Truth.

Lyman Abbott agrees with Carlyle in think-
ing that blessedness is more important than
happiness; and blessedness, he says, depends
on the possession of character attuned to
"righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy
Spirit." In this sense, "Christ's secret of hap-
piness is character," and "each quality or at-
tribute of character has its own peculiar bles-
sedness." Dr. Abbott writes further:

"The pessimistic philosophy may be epitomized
thus: Life consists in the pursuit of desire. If
one does not attain it, he is disappointed. If he
does attain it, he is disgusted. Either way lies
unhappiness. The only escape is Nirvana, exist-
ence without desire. The answer of Christ to
this philosophy is. Blessed are those who hunger
and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be
satisfied. But their satisfaction will never be-
come satiety. The ideal will grow faster than the
realization. The desire will be an eternal desire,
the satisfaction an eternal satisfaction. The prize
of such a life is in the pursuit. The joy of such
a one is the joy of perpetual attaining: 'Forget-
ting those things which are behind, and reaching
forth unto those things which are before, I press
toward the mark for the prize of the upward
calling of God in Christ Jesus.' The prize in
every attainment is a call to an attainment still
higher. He who is mastered by a passion for
righteousness has in himself the spring of perpet-
ual youth."

Dr. Slicer approaches the subject from a
somewhat different angle. He thinks that
happiness, which we so often treat as an acci-
dent of circumstance, or an element of tem-
perament, is, in fact, a duty. He heartily com-
mends the saying of Robert Louis Stevenson:

"Gentleness and cheerfulness, these come be-
fore all morality! They are the perfect duties.
If your morals make you dreary, depend upon it
they are wrong. I do not say 'give them up,' for
they may be all you have; but conceal them, like
a vice,Iest they should spoil the lives of better men."

The business of religion, in Dr. SHcer's
opinion, is "to add to the zest of life;" and,

*The Economy of Happiness. By James Mackaye.
Little, Brown & Company.

RELIGION AND ETHICS

529

tested by this standard, he thinks that all the
ancient philosophies were deficient. The
method of the Cynic was to exclude the joys
of life in the interest of the integrity of life,
"as tho a fragment of life would satisfy the
whole man." Stoicism failed because it "had
no gradations of worth or unworth," and was
incapable of artistic abandon. The ideal of
the ancient Epicurean was imperturbability;
but imperturbability, says Dr. Sheer, is "the
condition of a bear that is hibernating in win-
ter." The ideal of the modern Epicurean is
pleasure; it ignores the fact that "no pleasure,
no instinct, no intention, followed for its ozvn
sake, can last." He concludes:

"How shall we be happy? Most of all in that
generous attitude toward others that leaves us
no arrears of regard. Our happiness is drawn
out of the mind within. Nobody can make you
happy. Anybody may make you glad; but glad-
ness is like daylight, it is gone when the night
falls. The real secret of happiness that culminates
in blessedness is like a great quiet that rests be-
tween two friends who do not have to speak be-
cause they understand one another. . . . The
Master whom we so often call the 'Man of Sor-
rows and Acquainted with Grief was the happi-
est man that ever came to make a day of light in
the world, — the 'Sun of Righteousness.' His his-
tory was summed up in the fine phrase: 'he went
about doing good, for God was with him.' Our
happiness depends largely upon such an inter-
pretation of life."

Mr. Trine's emphasis, in his new book, is all
on the social side of life. He feels that the
joyous activity of genuinely religious natures
is being poured to-day into movements toward
social amelioration, and that such men as
Whitman, Lincoln and George, Altgeld, Mayor
Jones and Ernest Crosby, are the prophets of
the new dispensation. He writes :

"What we term the Golden Rule is an absolute
law of life, and it will have obedience through the
joy, and therefore the gain, it brings into our
lives if we observe it, or it will have obedience
by the pain and the blankness it drives into our
lives if we violate it. As we give to the world,
so the world gives back to us. Thoughts are
forces; like inspires like and like creates like. If
I give love I inspire and receive love in return.
H I give hatred I inspire and I receive hatred.
The wise man loves; only the ignorant, the selfish,
the fool, hates.

"It is the man who loves and serves who has
solved the riddle of life, for into his life comes
the fulness, the satisfaction, the peace and the joy
that the Law decrees."

Mr. Mackaye's book is conceived in much
the same spirit as Bellamy's "Looking Back-
ward" and "Equality," and offers "Pantoc-
racy" — a kind of modified Socialism — as the
true gospel of human happiness. He writes :

"What good does it do to tell men to be good
and they will be happy? Does any one seriously

believe that propounding this platitude will make
men good? No, the proper way is to make them
happy, and then they will be good. Altho to
abolish self-interest is impossible, to change its
mode of application to the social mechanism is
not. Should we attach a dozen horses to a mired
vehicle, and then let each pull in the direction in
which he felt inclined, we should not accomplish
much; but with precisely the same power we
could pull the load out of the mire by making the
horses all pull in one direction. In such a situa-
tion co-operation will accomplish what competi-
tion will not, and in hauling society out of the
slough in which it is gradually sinking the same
methods must be employed. To produce happi-
ness co-operation is required — not the mere co-
operation of good-will, but organized co-opera-
tion, amounting to a change in the social system."

This article opened with the utterance of
one woman, and may appropriately be closed
with that of another. Miss Hildegarde Haw-
thorne, the granddaughter of Nathaniel Haw-
thorne, makes an interesting contribution to
the discussion of the problem of happiness,
in the New York Times Saturday Review.
She says that she regrets the grounds on which
so many ministers appeal to humanity. We
are told to be noble because that is the way to
secure happiness for ourselves, or because we
will be burned in hell-fire if we are not noble.
"There is a third reason," says Miss Haw-
thorne, " — to be noble because it is possible
that the work God is doing in the world can
be better performed by Him if He has instru-
ments of fine temper and perfect trustworthi-
ness to work with." She says further:

"It is a question whether happiness per se is
not somewhat overrated. The development of
character, the discovery of what we are and what
we are capable of, is our essential work. Like
the little Japanese water toys, we are thrown into
our environment in order that we may expand
to the limit of our design. Sorrow and suffering,
sin itself, are our great masters along with happi-
ness. The greatest works of the world are not
apt to be born of happiness, altho they may
have about them a divine breath from the radiant
goddess. 'The hand that rounded Peter's dome
and groined the aisles of Christian Rome wrought
in a sad sincerity.'

" 'Tristan und Isolde' is not the creation of a
happy man, nor do Shakespeare's sonnets speak
the joy of the heart. Sorrow, loss, and failure
tutored these mighty men, and the works thev
left behind them show perhaps more than did
their faces that happiness was not the constant,
not the reigning, goddess of their hearts. But
something fine, noble, pure, and shining did dwell
with them, glowing in all they wrought and draw-
ing our hearts to the heights along with theirs.
Out of the bitter elements of life they have
forged something noble, more exquisite than they
could have fashioned out of the beautiful con-
stituents of happiness alone; even as the somber
magnificence of mountains or the wild glory of
the sea touches a note of deeper beauty than does
the smiling verdure of a valley."

530

CURRENT LITERATURE

ARCHBISHOP IRELAND'S DEFENSE OF THE PAPACY

O MORE striking article on a re-
ligious topic has appeared for some
time than that by the Rev. Dr.
Charles A. Briggs, of New York,
proposing a reunion of all the Christian
churches under a reformed Papal administra-
tion. The article was noticed in these pages
last month, and has aroused widespread com-
ment among Roman Catholics, as well as
among Protestants. Archbishop Ireland, of St.
Paul, found Dr. Briggs' article so interesting
that he was impelled to write a lengthy re-
joinder. It appears in The North American
Revieiv, and has special significance at this
time, both by reason of its intrinsic value and
of the newspaper gossip which tells of persist-
ent efforts now being made in Rome to ele-
vate the venerable prelate to a Cardinalate.

Dr. Briggs' position may be summed up very
briefly as follows: The Papacy is the oldest
and greatest of all our religious institutions,
it is the fountain-head of organized Christian-
ity, instituted by Christ Himself. During the
course of the centuries it has allowed itself to
be deflected from its original purposes. If it
could divest itself of developments and accre-
tions, making itself the Papacy "as near to
Christ as St. Peter was, and as truly repre-
sentative of the Lord and Master," it would
again become the inevitable rallying point of
Christendom.
To this Archbishop Ireland makes reply:
"The charge is grave, that the Papacy, through
its own fault, through ambition and lust of domi-
nation, compels believers of the Gospel to hold
themselves aloof from it, thus making necessary,
for the time being at least, the divisions of
Christendom, and voluntarily setting at naught
the prayer of its Founder. Christ, undoubtedly,
willed unity among His disciples. To disrupt
Christian unity, to build up obstacles to the heal-
ing of the breach, when, from one cause or an-
other,' unity has been disrupted, is the crime of
crimes against Christ and His Church. But is the
guilt upon the Papacy? Is the charge proven by
facts in its history, or by its present attitude
towards the interests of religion and of hu-
manity ?"

The Archbishop answers both of these ques-
tions with an emphatic negative. After payinoc
tribute to Dr. Briggs' argument in support of
the divine institution of the Papacy, than
which, he says, "no truer and more convincing
presentation, from Scripture and early Chris-
tian history, could be wished for," he goes on
to affirm: "Supremacy was vested in the orig-
inal Papacy; consequently there is no excuse
for those who remain aloof from the Papacy,

under the plea that supremacy, as is now
claimed, is a late development, void of valid-
ity." To quote further:

"Separation is the original sin of Greeks and
of Protestants, the guilt of which nothing can
cancel, save complete return to unity. In with-
drawing from the Papacy, the center of unity in
Christendom, under whatever provocation, real or
fictitious, and forming churches of their own,
apart from communion with the Bishop of Rome,
Orientals and Protestants were, decidedly, in the
wrong. Neither is the wrong made right by
lapse of time. The wrong lasts as long as sepa-
ration lasts. The duty is paramount to undo the
wrong and bring separation to an end."

Archbishop Ireland feels that it would be
no difficult task to show that in the Orient, as
in the Occident, the real grounds upon which
separation was based 'iay well outside the
bulwarks of the Papacy ;" that "complaints
against the Papacy, set forth as justifications,
were to a large degree excuses, rather than
reasons, for schisms which had elsewhere their
inciting causes." To follow the argument:

"In the Orient, the cause was pride and ambi-
tion in Photius, first, and, later, in Michael Caeru-
larius, together with an unconquerable jealousy of
'Old Rome' in emperors and courtiers of the
'New Rome' on the shores of the Bosphorus ; the
people, as was usually the case in those ages,
merely followed the leaders, whithersoever they
were going. In Germany, the preaching of Tet7,el
and the Gravamina counted far less, as causes,
than the personal waywardness and recklessness
of character of Martin Luther, and the political
ambitions and the inordinate greed of princes and
barons. In England, who will say that Henry,
obeyed by a servile and self-seeking Parliament,
would ever have separated from Rome if Cath-
erine of Aragon had discreetly gone to her
grave? Whether in Constantinople or in Wirt-
enberg, the Papacy showed itself patient and
long-sufTering; excommunication was pronounced
only when its authority had met with stern de-
fiance, and its representatives had been refused a
hearing, or had suffered open contumely."

Separations took place and went their course,
says Archbishop Ireland, but "the Papacy re-
mained. With it were bishops, priests and
people who clung to the 'rock' ; and these,
with the Papacy, constituted the Church." He
adds: "Once in open schism. Christians of all
deo^rees. priests or bishops, are outside the
Church, take no part in its corporate life, re-
tain no right to invalidate its normal action.
. . . Professor Briggs, by virtue of his ap-
peal to Scripture and early tradition, is bound
to accept all councils, however many they mav
be, that the Papacy accepts. With best will
on its part, the Papacy cannot exempt him

RELIGION AND ETHICS

531

from this obligation without annihilation of
its own life."

When it comes to a question of the reforms
in Papal administration proposed by Dr.
Briggs, the Archbishop assumes an attitude of
sympathy rather than of hostility. In the
matter, for instance, of "the claims of the
Papacy to jurisdiction in civil affairs and to
dominion over civic governments," to which
Professor Briggs objects, Archbishop Ireland
says: "To such claims, fortunately, he is not
asked to listen. No claims of the kind are
made; the Papacy has no right to make such
claims, and does not dream of making them."
More specifically he declares :

"If purely civil matters are in issue, the Pope has "
no right whatsoever to give directions to Catholics.
Catholics would resent directions of this kind. I
think, however, that the Professor will admit that
the question changes when issues under consid-
eration are such as to appeal to the religious con-
science and to demand solution in the light of
religious principles. The issue then would ap-
pertain to the spiritual order. Who should re-
fuse to the Chieftain of the Church the right to
define what such principles mean, and how they
are to be applied? The question under discussion
in the great battle-days of the 'Centrum' in Ger-
many was the inherent right of the Church to the
appointment, according to its own rules and re-
quirements, of its bishops and priests : was not
this strictly a matter of religion? In France, the
controversy turns on the question whether Church
property shall be held under control of the hier-
archy or under that of bodies independent of that
control. Is not this, again, a religious question?"

Other points raised by the Professor are
disposed of in the same friendly spirit:

"That Ecumenical Councils should be more fre-
quent— it is possible. Good comes from such
gatherings, where bishops from every clime under
the sun raise their voice to offer suggestion and
counsel. However, in practise, it is not so easy
a task as Professor Briggs may imagine to bring
from their homes, 'every three or five years,' a
thousand bishops, so many of them removed from
Rome by wide expanse of continent and of ocean,
and hold them together in one place, be it the
largest of cities, during the weeks and months for
mutual deliberation. . . .

"That the Cardinalate should be more wide-
spread over the world; that among cardinals
resident in Rome and forming the Pope's imme-
diate cabinet there might be," with advantage to
the general Church, fewer Italians and more
foreigners ; that, conditions changing with the
modern world, the Catholicity of the Church
might be more emphasized than it is at present in
its central seat of government — on this score the
Professor is most free to think as he likes, to
urge, as he chooses, his views upon the Papacy.
However, he must agree with me that time is
needed before changes from existing policies can
be prudently made, all the more so that those
policies are of ancient date, and had in the past,
as they may have in the present, good reasons in
their favor.

"That the Pope need not, always and ever, be
an Italian — of course not ; many popes in the past
were not Italians. One who is not an Italian may
in the not distant future be enthroned in the Vati-
can. For my part, however, I do not easily see
that, in these days of international jealousies and
fears, such a happening would be an omen of
greater international peace than the Church now
enjoys. It is wisdom, perhaps, to leave things as
they are. Nor does the Pope, ever and always,
need to reside in Rome. The popes, for a long
time, resided in Avignon. Yet who does not see
that Rome, the Capital of Christendom from
earliest ages, the city of the martyrdom of Peter
and Paul, the central seat of Papal memories and
glories for nineteen centuries, is the native home
of the Papacy through the will of Providence, no
less than through the will of the Church?"

"Is the Papacy an obstacle to the reunion
of Christendom?" asks Archbishop Ireland, in
concluding. "Is there sufficient justification
for Professor Briggs, holding, as he does, as
he must, in loyalty to Scripture and tradition,
to an 'ideal Papacy,' to remain aloof from the
'real Papacy'?" He replies: "There is none."

"The 'real Papacy,' in all its principles, is the
Papacy of Scripture and tradition, the 'ideal
Papacy;' and seen in action, yesterday and to-day,
stripped of clouds gathered over its brow by preju-
dice and misconception, it looms up in Christen-
dom still the 'ideal Papacy,' so far as the ideal
can be realized through human elements. . . .

"Whatever can be done to bring about reunion,
the Papacy is most willing to do. It will not
change the vital principles of its being. The Pro-
fessor will not, on second thought, ask it to do
this. For then it were not the Papacy, as insti-
stuted by Christ; and the Professor, assuredly
covets none other. The Papacy must maintam
that primacy means supremacy, since supremacy
was the Lord's appointment ; it must maintain
that the Pope cannot reduce himself to be merely
the Executive Head of the Church, since he is
from Christ the Supreme Ruler; it cannot in its
councils put on the same level priests and bishops,
however validly ordained, who persist in schism,
though it may invite them to argument and ex-
planation, as Leo invited the Orientals to the
Vatican Council, as Clement VII and Paul III
invited the Lutherans of Germany to the Triden-
tine; it cannot repudiate as non-economical those
councils which were held since the Greek Schism,
of the Protestant 'Reformation' — these councils
were valid councils of the Church ; the Church,
after the separation as before, lived with fulness
of power and authority, with rights unimpaired.
Nor is the dream, apparently the most dear to the
Professor, to be realized — that a constitution be
framed defining and limiting the authority of the
Papacy, adjoining to it with independent powers
a representative Council of Bishops to whom
should belong all legislative functions, and an-
other body, equally independent, that should take
to itself judicial functions. Christ, once for all,-
gave a constitution to the Papacy — that it be
supreme ; the constitution given by Christ no
Pope, no body of Bishops can alter. Counselors
the Pope will gather around him ; vicars and
delegates he will have, to divide with him the
labor of his office; but the Supreme Master, in
last resort, he will ever remain."

533

CURRENT LITERATURE

PITFALLS LAID FOR MINISTERS BY WOMEN

^HE young New York clergyman who
has recently been deposed from the
ministry as a result of his arrest in

a Seventh avenue disorderly house

while engaged in what he described as "a
slumming expedition," might have been saved
from the disgrace that has overwhelmed him
if he had taken to heart an injunction which
appears in a late issue of The Homiletic Re-
view :

"Don't go slumming alone. There are a good
many kinds of wickedness which even a minister
does not need to know very intimately; but if
you ever have occasion to go to a bad house, go
with your wife, or with one of your deacons, and
for some other reason than curiosity."

This injunction appears as part of an ar-
ticle on "The Minister and Women," in which
another metropolitan clergyman (a well-
known preacher who conceals his identity
under a pseudonym) puts his fellow-clergy-
men on their guard against certain dangers
in connection with the religious life which
have come within his own experience, and
against which, as he now regrets, his seminary
professors failed to give him warning.

He begins the article with a story about "a
woman of perhaps thirty-five, drest in black,
and with a genteel and thoroly respectable ap-
pearance," who approached his assistant min-
ister at the close of an evening service. Her
credentials were apparently faultless, and she
wormed herself into his confidence by telling
an affecting story of an unhappy marriage,
and of her determination to devote her life
and money to the church. She turned out to
be a forger and blackmailer, and was arrested
by the police.

The writer goes on to speak of other ex-
periences of a similar character:

"I learned how one city minister received a note
from a woman professing to be in trouble, and
asking for an appointment with him alone; how
he wrote her making such an appointment, and
the next day, leaving his study, met a man who
thrust the letter in his face, saying : 'Here is your
letter addressed to a woman whose name is
known to every one in this city as the worst char-
acter on the street; how much will you give for
it?' I learned of a minister who admitted to his
study a woman with a sad story, who drew nearer
and nearer to him in her appeal for sympathy, till
at length she flung herself in his lap, with her
arms about his neck, and at that moment the door
opened, and two men asked how much he would
give to keep this little matter quiet. I learned of
another who had repeatedly admitted a woman
who came with a tale of trouble, and whose de-
meanor throughout was above reproach ; but how

in time the minister was offered a photograph of
himself sitting in his own study chair with this
woman in his lap. He was cool enough to ex-
amine it carefully, and found it a clever bit of
photographic patchwork, but access had been ob-
tained to his study in his absence, a photograph
had been made, and his own head, from another
photograph, had been pasted on, and a new photo-
graph made of the combination. It was cleverly
done, and there was ample proof of the frequent
visits of the woman to his study."

Clergymen themselves, the writer confesses,
are sometimes guilty of acts of the gravest
folly. In such cases the uniform defense is
. "indiscretion." "He did not mean to do any-
thing wrong;" people say "he was merely in-
discreet." Of cases of this kind the writer
says:

"I have gradually come to the conclusion that
in most of these cases guilt would have been bet-
ter than the indiscretion. The indiscretion was
so flagrant that there must have been some moral
taint, and whether it stopped a little short of the
legal limit which might define guilt or went a
trifle beyond it is a small matter, and for the rest
of us it was much worse that we had to deem him
innocent. We wasted energy in his defense, which
might have been better spent ; the world refused
to believe that he was 'merely' indiscreet, and the
church had to bear the double burden of his
putative guilt and of his continued presence in
the church. It would have been better, all in all,
had he been unmistakably guilty. Then we could
have let him go to his own place, and fumigated
the place and let another take his bishopric. As
it was, we sometimes had to apologize for him
afterward for more indiscretions. So I am grow-
ing to believe that if a man is so indiscreet as to
give the general appearance of guilt, the differ-
ence is hardly worth the labor of saving it. If
there is one thing worse than proven guilt, it is
barely defensible appearance of guilt. Wherefore,
avoid the appearance of evil."

The clergyman offers this counsel in con-
cluding:

"It is not necessary to be a prude. It is better
to live a free life, one that has nothing to conceal.
It is not well for a man to hedge and trim and
choose every word, and act as if in mortal terror
of being misunderstood. Better is it that he live
so pure in heart, so clean of speech, so manly, so
obviously faithful to his own home, that no one
should ever think of assailing his good name, and
if any one should slander him, good men and
women will believe his simple word and clean life
against half the harlots in Christendom. It is this
we must trust. Never fear blackmail and never
pay it. Never stop to debate if you find you are
in the presence of evil, — flee as Lot fled "from
Sodom, but flee without fear of anything save
dallying with sin. Long before the popularity of
Jiu-jitsu I learned, what every minister ought to
know, how to put a disorderly man out of the
room. But a better thing to know is how to put
an evil thought out of the heart."

RELIGION AND ETHICS

533

A CHURCHMAN'S PLEA FOR FREE THOUGHT

"^T BEGINS to look as if a great
problem was raised, rather than
settled, by the ecclesiastical court
nJ which deposed the Rev. Dr. Crap-
sey, of Rochester, from his place in the Prot-
estant Episcopal ministry last December, on
the ground that his theological views were
heretical. A considerable number of his fel-
low-clergymen are known to share his opin-
ions. Some of them have openly affirmed
their substantial agreement with him. One
minister, already quoted in these pages and
described as a "pastor of important churches
still in active service," has declared, under the
veil of anonymity, that he honors and ad-
mires Dr. Crapsey, but is not scurrying to put
himself "in the pillory beside him." And now
an accredited teacher and scholar in the
Protestant Episcopal Church, a profes,sor in
the Episcopal Theological School in Cam-
bridge, Dr. Alexander V. G. Allen, has writ-
ten a book* which pleads for "freedom in the
church," and is felt to give the fullest moral
support to clergymen who, like Dr. Crapsey,
claim the right to interpret the creeds in their
own way. The book has influential backers,
and has been put in the hands of thousands of
Protestant Episcopal ministers by means of a
fund evidently contributed for this special pur-
pose.

The situation in the American Episcopal
Church, says Dr. Allen, is one that calls for
serious consideration in the interest of theol-
ogy and of true religion. Of the "many
issues" at stake, he writes:

"Honesty in the recitation of the Creed is by
no means the only question. Deeper motives lie
beneath the present disturbance than can be meas-
ured by the uncritical observer. No amount of
practise in ethical theorizing qualifies for judg-
ment on the complicated issues of religion. For
religion constitutes a department of life by itself,
independent of science, or ethics, or philosophy.
There is danger that the cause of religious free-
dom and of freedom of inquiry in theology may
be retarded indefinitely unless the emphasis be
again placed upon freedom, the one predominant
motive of the Reformation in the sixteenth cen-
tury which gave us the Book of Common Prayer.
The desire for freedom, the determination to
guard the liberty of both clergy and laitv then •
manifested I'^as onlv another form of the demand
of Magna Charta, 'Libera sit ecclesia Anglicana.'
[Let the English church be free]. Other words
which expressed the purpose of the Reformers
and were often quoted were those of St. Paul,

'Freedom in the Church. Bv Alexander V. G. Allen,
Professor in 'the Episcopal Theological School in Cam-
bridge. The Macmillan Company.

'Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith
Christ has made us free;' and the words which
follow, 'And be not entangled again in the yoke
of bondage.' Other kindred words come from
our Lord Himself, 'Ye shall know the truth, and
the truth shall make you free, and if the Son shall
make you free, ye shall be free indeed.' This free-
dom is called in question when an interpretation
is placed upon the vows of the Ordinal, foreign
to their original intent, as if they were a business
contract with a corporation in accordance with
whose terms the clergy resign their freedom in
Christ for certain material considerations, instead
of a guarantee of Christian freedom, as in the
intention of . the Reformers they were meant
to be."

Dr. Allen confines his argument, in the
main, to two points. He tries to show, first,
that at the time of the Reformation the An-
glican Church deliberately set aside the au-
thority of tradition, and established as the
sole rule of faith the Holy Scriptures and the
doctrine of the Trinity. In the second place,
he endeavors to prove that a very misleading
conception of the virgin birth of Christ has
grown up within the Church, and that the
phrase, "born of the Virgin Mary," had ref-
erence, in its inception, to the humanity of
Jesus rather than to the virginity of Mary.
In the elaboration of these two arguments Dr.
Allen has lain the whole field of ecclesiastical
history under contribution. His attitude is
that of a special pleader, and his skill in the
marshaling of facts is conceded even by those
who are out of sympathy with his conclusions.

The deepest significance of the Reformation,
as Dr. Allen sees it, is that it represented a
definite break with Catholic dogma, and a re-
turn to "the ancient Catholic charter of free-
dom— the doctrine of the Trinity." This doc-
trine, we are told, "brings freedom by the
proclamation of the co-equality of the Son
with the Father, since Christ therefore is
placed above kings ; and thrones must thence-
forth retain their power by obedience to the
will of Christ, as the Lord Christ hath com-
manded." Its restoration, at the time of the
Reformation, meant liberation from outgrown
superstitions. It meant the overthrow of Vir-
gin worship and a new and saner emphasis on
the person of Christ. Co-equal in importance
with this return to the doctrine of the Trinity
was the tendency to revert to the Bible, rather
than to tradition or creed, as the real arbiter
of religious faith. And "it must be remem-
bered," says Dr. Allen, "that in the age of the
Reformation, while the Bible was held in love
and reverence, yet there was also greater

534

CURRENT LITERATURE

freedom in its interpretation than in the age
which followed. Luther's Biblical criticism to
a later age would appear like the destructive
attack of modern rationalism." In brief, the
ruling principle of the Reformation was free-
dom. Its tendency was to compel men to
think for themselves, to lead them "away
from dogmatic subtleties and refinements to
the intellectual freedom and the larger life of
the modern world."

When it comes to the question of the In-
carnation, Dr. Allen specifically declares:
"There is no denial in this treatise of the
Virgin-birth." Yet the whole weight of his
argument and intellectual influence is thrown
on the side of what is regarded as the radical
and subversive view of this doctrine. He
bends all his energies to sustain the thesis
that the creedal statement, "born of the Vir-
gin Mary," was coined to meet the contention
of Docetism that the human body of Christ
was only an illusion; so that all references to
the birth of Christ in primitive Christian
documents must be interpreted as if the word
"birth" stood alone. He also emphasizes "the
argument from silence," and shows what a
comparatively slight place the Virgin-birth
occupied in early Church doctrine. He says,
in concluding:

"It is to have been devoutly wished that the
present controversy about the Virgin-birth had
not arisen to disturb the peace of the Church. . .

"The relief from the evils of the situation may
be sought in two ways, (i) We may return to
the original interpretation of the clause, 'born of
the Virgin Mary,' impressing upon our minds, as
we recite it, how it means that the Son of God
was actually born into this world of a human
mother. St. Paul has given the equivalent ex-
pression 'Born of a woman, born under the
law.' . . .

"And (2) there is a provision made in the
rubric of the English book before all the creeds, —
Apostles', Nicene. or Athanasian, — that they be
'sungor said.' In the American book the word 'sung'
has been omitted, but we may think no special
significance attaches to the omission. It was the
opinion of Dr. Arnold of Rugby that the creeds
should always be sung. There has never been any
authoritative decision as to the significance of
their liturgical use, nor is there to-day any com-
mon understanding. If they are sung they pass
into the rank of the great hymns, the Te Deum
and the Gloria in Excelsis. where misunderstand-
ings disappear. Recited in their original sense,
in every clause, they can no longer be. They have
been put to the test of Scrioture. as Article VITT
requires, and the clauses, 'He descended into hell'
and the 'resurrection of the flesh,' have not stood
the test. But as hymns expressing the faith of
the_ Church of the early centuries, thev will retain
their dignity and imnortance. — a revelation of the
human soul responding to the Divine call; which
if they become the subject of controversy and
business contract they must lose. So long as we

have the Word of God containing all things neces-
sary to salvation, the creeds are not indispensable.
They might be omitted from the offices of the
Church and the Christian faith not be impaired.
But as summaries of the convictions of the
Christian heart in past ages, as ties binding us to
the one common Christian life and experience in
every age, they are invaluable, the most precious
heritage of our historical faith, altho not its com-
plete expression."

Dr. Allen's book has elicited keen interest
and controversy in the theological world. In
the organs of the Protestant Episcopal
Church it is the subject of lengthy editorial
discussion and of copious correspondence from
the laity, as well as the clergy. The verdict
passed upon the volume is, in the main, un-
favorable. In a few instances it is bitterly
hostile. The Church Standard (Philadel-
phia) says bluntly: "The freedom which Dr.
Allen would establish is the freedom of a
minister to hold oflScial station and emolu-
ment in the Episcopal Church while denying
her doctrine and violating his ordination
oath." The New York Churchman refuses to
regard the book as a genuine Anglican inter-
pretation of either the present or the past
position of the Church of England. It says
further :

"While Professor Allen desires to defend the
right of freedom in the Church, he would estab-
lish freedom on principles inconsistent with or-
ganic Christianity There would be no Church
left (in the historic sense) in which to be free,
but only a society in which the members would
be free to interpret the Scriptures. In fighting
against an authority that would destroy freedom,
he seems to be seeking a freedom that would
destroy authority. Liberty and authority are alike
conditions of life. Both are necessary. Without
authority there can be no real freedom, and there
can be no effective authority . without freedom.
Dr. Allen's exclusive appeal to the letter of the
Scriptures has not in the past produced the free-
dom for which he contends. The argument of
Professor. Allen's book tends in one direction
alone. It uses an interpretation of Church history
that is not unfamiliar, but in Dr. Allen's hands
it does not seem to have gained either in strength
or in effectiveness."

The Living Church (Milwaukee) com-
ments in the same spirt. "The book," it says,
"is a brilliant advocate's plea, and that is all.
It happens that the advocate is very learned,
but he is still an advocate. His presupposi-
tions, we might almost say his prejudices,
have been too strong for him." The same
paper adds:

"The assumption which underlies so many
books like Dr. Allen's, that scholarship and a faith
m traditional Christianity are incompatible, is
one that appears to be growing, especially among
people who cannot read for themselves. But the
existence of such men as Zahn in Germany and

RELIGION AND ETHICS

535

Sanday in England with others, is sufficient dis-
proof of such assumptions. We cannot but think
that the science of theology can never be advanced
by casting overboard what the past has learned, or
by every man starting a new system for himself
ab initio, however attractive this may be to the
modern craze for originality in thought. It ap-
pears to us that the science of theology must pro-
ceed on the same lines as every other science.

"And remembering always that the burden of
proof is upon people with original discoveries in
theology, there is and there should be 'freedom in

the Church' for legitimate speculation where the
Church has not spoken. But there is also a 'con-
tinuity of Christian thought' which has to be
reckoned with. And it is not only this continuity
of Christian thought, but it is the legitimate free-
dom in the Church which must ultimately be
destroyed if this spirit of restless individualism
is to dominate theologians. The creeds of the
Church are not fetters riveted upon scholarship ;
they are rather, as Mr. Chesterton wittily re-
marks, 'The protection of the laity against the
wicked, restless theologians.' "

MAX STIRNER'S ANARCHIST GOSPEL

IXTY years ago, a book entitled
"Der Einzige und sein Eigentum"'
(generally translated "The Indi-
vidual and his Property") was pub-
lished in Berlin. It has been described as "the
most revolutionary book ever written," and
its author. Max Stirner, was perhaps the
leading intellectual precursor of modern phil-
osophical anarchism. When he died, in 1856,
in comparative poverty and obscurity, his
theories had made but little headway; but
during the years that have passed since then
both book and author have commanded in-
creasing study and respect. It begins to look
as if Max Stirner might yet take rank with
the great philosophic thinkers of the nineteenth
century. He exerted profound influence over
Nietzsche, and, in the opinion of no less an
authority than Eduard von Hartmann, his
work surpasses that of Nietzsche "by a thou-
sand cubits." "Der Einzige" has been trans-
lated into French, Spanish, Russian and Ital-
ian; and critical studies popularizing its argu-
ments have appeared in almost all the Euro-
pean countries. George Brandes, a critic of
rare discernment, is one of Stirner's inter-
preters, and John Henry Mackay, the Ger-
man poet, has written his biography. On
Mackay's initiative a suitable stone has been
placed above Stirner's grave in Berlin, and a
memorial tablet upon the house in which he
died; and this spring another tablet is to be
set upon the house in Bayreuth where he was
born in 1806.

An English translation* of "Der Einzige,"
which has just appeared in New York under
the title, "The Ego and His Own," makes
Stirner's gospel accessible for the first time
to American and English-speaking readers.
He is difficult to read, and his oddities of com-
position and terminology often tend to ob-

*The Ego and His Own. By Max Stirner. Translated
from the German by Steven T. Byinjrton, with an In-
troduction by J. L. Walker. Benj. R. Tucker, New York.

scure his meaning. "There is nothing more
disconcerting," one of his French commenta-
tors has confessed, "than the first approach to
this strange work. Stirner does not con-
descend to inform us as to the architecture of
his edifice, or furnish us the slightest guiding
thread. . . . The apparent divisions of
the book are few and misleading. The repeti-
tions are innumerable. At first one seems to
be confronted with a collection of essays
strung together, with a throng of aphorisms.
But, if you read this book several
times; if, after having penetrated the intimacy
of each of its parts, you then traverse it as a
v/hole — gradually the fragments weld them-
selves together, and Stirner's thought is re-
vealed in all its unity, force, and depth."

There are many points of similarity between
the philosophies of Stirner and of Nietzsche.
Both might take as their creed the ringing lines
of Swinburne :

Honor to man in the highest!
For man is the master of things.

But while Nietzsche speaks with the inspired
accents of a poet, Stirner writes as a philosoph-
ical partizan. The former fires the imagina-
tion with an essentially aristocratic vision of
the "Superman" ; the latter proclaims that
each individual man is supreme and perfect in
himself. Against the opening words of his
first chapter, Stirner sets two mottoes, one
from Feuerbach, that "man is to man the su-
preme being"; the other from Bruno Bauer,
that "man has just been discovered." He adds
the comment : "Then let us take a more careful
look at this supreme being and this new dis-
covery."

With a confidence worthy of Carlyle, who
once declared that there were twenty-seven
million people in England, "mostly fools,"
Stirner says that when he looks out on the
modern world he can only regard the majority
of men as "veritable fools, fools in a mad-

536

CURRENT LITERATURE

house." He means that we do not know how
to think, how to be ourselves. We take our
lives and opinions as they are handed to us;
we beHeve in "spooks" of all kinds; we have
"wheels in our heads;" we are all slaves of
fixed ideas. It is "fixed ideas" that especially
excite Stirner's wrath, and by this term he
means ideas of God, marriage, the state, of
law, duty, morality. Humanity will only be-
gin to live, he avers, when it gets rid of all
fixed ideas.

The trouble with all of us to-day, he as-
serts, is that we think in crowds, and that
our knowledge is alien to us. To follow his
argument :

"God. immortality, freedom, humanity, etc., are
drilled into us from childhood, as thoughts and
feelings which move our inner being more or less
strongly, either ruling us without our knowing it,
or sometimes in richer natures manifesting them-
selves in systems and works of art; but are al-
ways not aroused but imparted feelings, because
we must beHeve in them and cling to them. . . .
Who is there that has never, more or less con-
sciously, noticed that our whole education is cal-
culated to produce feelings in us, j.^.,. impart them
to us instead of leaving their production to our-
selves however they may turn out? If we hear
the name of God, we are to feel veneration; if
we hear that of the prince's majesty, it is to be
received with reverence, deference, submission; .f
we hear that of morality, we are to think that we
hear something inviolable ; if we hear of the Evil
One or evil ones, we are to shudder, etc. The
intention is directed to these feelings, and he who,
e.g.. should hear with pleasure the deeds of the
'bad' would have to be 'taught what's what' with
the rod of discipline. Thus stuffed with imparted
feelings, we appear before the bar of majority and
are 'pronounced of age.' Our equipment consists
of 'elevating feelings, lofty thoughts, inspiring
maxims, eternal principles,' etc. The young are
of age when they twitter like the old; they are
driven through school to learn the old song, and.
when they have this by heart, they are declared
of age.

"We must not feel at every thing and every
name that comes before us what we could and
would like to feel thereat; e.g., at the name of
God we must think of nothing laughable, feel
nothing disrespectful, it being prescribed and im-
parted to us what and how we are to feel and
think at mention of that name.

"That is the meaning of the care of souls, — that
my soul or my mind be tuned as others think
right, not as I myself would Hke it. How much
trouble does it not cost one finally to secure_ to
one's self a feeling of one's own at the mention
of at least this or that name, and to laugh in the
face of many who expect from us a holy face and
a composed expression at their speeches. What
is imparted is alien to us, is not our own, and
therefore is 'sacred,' and it is hard work to lay
aside the 'sacred dread of it.'"

In the terminology of Stirner's subversive
gospel, "everything sacred is a tie, a fetter."
According to his view of life, all progress

consists in the breaking of previously accepted
laws. "The history of the world," he says,
"shows that no tie has yet remained unrent,
that man tirelessly defends himself against
ties of every sort." And so he adjures the
youth of his age, and of every age, to become
rebels, to "practise refractoriness, yes, com-
plete disobedience." Such adjuration, he is
aware, is likely to fall, for the most part, on
deaf ears.

"One needs only admonish you of yourselves to
bring you to despair at once. 'What am I?' each
of you asks himself. An abyss of lawless and
unregulated impulses, desires, wishes, passions, a
chaos without light or guiding star! How am I
to obtain a correct answer if, without regard to
God's commandments or to the duties which
morality prescribes, without regard to the voice
of reason, which in the course of history, after
bitter experiences, has exalted the best and most
reasonable thing into law, I simply appeal to my-
self? My passion would advise me to do the
most senseless thing possible. Thus each deems
himself the — devil; for if, so far as he is uncon-
cerned about religion, etc., he only deemed him-
self a beast, he would easily find that the beast,
which does follow only its impulse (as it were, its
advice), does not advise and impel itself to do
the 'most senseless' things, but takes very correct
steps. But the habit of the religious way of think-
ing has biased our mind so grievously that we
are — terrified at ourselves in our nakedness and
naturalness ; it has degraded us so that we deem
ourselves depraved by nature, born devils. Of
course, it comes into your head at once that your
calling requires you to do the 'good,' the moral,
the right. Now, if you ask yourselves what is to
be done, how can the right voice sound forth from
you, the voice which points the way of the good,
the right, the true, etc. ? What concord have God
and Belial?

"But what would you think if one answered
you by saying : 'That one is to listen to God, con-
science, duties, laws, etc., is flim-flam with which
people have stuffed your head and heart and made
you crazy'? And if he asked you how it is that
you know so surely that the voice of nature is a
seducer? And if he even demanded of you to
turn the thing about and actually to deem the
voice of God and conscience to be the devil's
work? There are such graceless men; how will
you settle them ? You cannot appeal to_ your par-
sons, parents, and good men, for precisely these
are designated by them as your seducers, as the
true seducers and corrupters of youth, who busily
sow broadcast the tares of self-contempt and rev-
erence to God, who fill young hearts with mud
and young heads with stupidity."

The real gist of Stirner's argument is al-
ready apparent. His logic can have but one
eventuation. He challenges men everywhere
simply — to be themselves. "I recognize no
other source of right," he says, "than me."
He continues : "If religion has set up the prop-
osition that we are sinners altogether, I set
over against it the other: we are perfect alto-

RELIGION AND ETHICS

537

gether ! For we are every moment all that
we can be; and we never need be more."

From this it follows that there is no abso-
lute standard of right or wrong. What is
right for one man may be wrong for another,
and vice versa. Moreover:

"A man is 'called' to nothing, and has no 'call-
ing,' no 'destiny,' as little as a plant or a beast has
a 'calling.' The flower does not follow the calling
to complete itself, but it spends all its forces to
enjoy and consume the world as well as it can, —
i.e., it sucks in as much of the juices of the earth,
as much air of the ether, as much light of the sun,
as it can get and lodge. The bird lives up to no
calling, but it uses its forces as much as is prac-
ticable ; it catches beetles and sings to its heart's
delight. But the forces of the flower and the bird
are sHght in comparison to those of a man, and a
man who applies his forces will affect the world
much more powerfully than flower and beast. A
calling he has not, but he has forces that manifest
themselves where they are because their being
consists solely in their manifestation, and are as
little able to abide inactive as life, which, if it
'stood stiir only a second, would no longer be
life. Now, one might call out to the man, 'use
your force.' Yet to this imperative would be
given the meaning that it was man's task to use
his force. It is not so. Rather, each one really
uses his force without first looking upon this as
his calling: at all times every one uses as much
force as he possesses. One does say of a beaten
man that he ought to have exerted his force
more ; but one forgets that, if in the moment of
succumbing he had had the force to exert his
forces {e.g., bodily forces), he would not have
failed to do it : even if it was only the discour-
agement of a minute, this was yet a — destitution
of force, a minute long. Forces may assuredly be
sharpened and redoubled, especially by hostile re-
sistance or friendly assistance; but where one
misses their application one may be sure of their
absence, too. One can strike fire out of a stone,
but without the blow none comes out; in like
manner a man, too, needs 'impact.'

"Now, for this reason that forces always of
themselves show themselves operative, the com-
mand to use them would be superfluous and sense-
less. To use his forces is not man's calling and
task, but is his act, real and extant at all times."

The argument that the world will "go to
the dogs" in the moment that each man does
as seems best in his own eyes, is met, in part,
in Stirner's apostrophe to youth, already
quoted. He returns to the point again and
again. To those who exclaim, "Society will
fall to pieces!" he replies: Men will seek one
another as long as they need one another.
"But surely one cannot put a rascal and an
honest man on the same level!" To this
Stirner makes answer:

"No human being does that oftener than you
judges of morals ; yes, still more than that, you
imprison as a criminal an honest man who speaks
openly against the existing constitution, against
the hallowed institutions, etc., and you entrust
portfolios and still more important things to a

crafty rascal. So in praxi you have nothing to
reproach me with. 'But in theory !' Now there
I do put both on the same level, as two opposite
poles, — to wit, both on the level of the moral law.
Both have meaning only in the 'moral' world, just
as in the pre-Christian time a Jew who kept the
law and one who broke it had meaning and sig-
nificance only in respect to the Jewish law ; before
Jesus Christ, on the contrary, the Pharisee was
no more than the 'sinner and publican.' So before
self-ownership the moral Pharisee amounts to as
much as the immoral sinner."

Carrying this startling argument still fur-
ther, Stirner brands the philanthropists of to-
day as "the real tormentors of humanity." He
cries :

"Get away from me with your 'philanthropy' !
Creep in, you philanthropist, into the 'dens of
vice,' linger awhile in the throng of the great city :
will you not everywhere find sin, and sin, and
again sin? Will you not wail over corrupt hu-
manity, not lament at the monstrous egoism?
Will you see a rich man without finding him piti-
less and 'egoistic'? Perhaps you already call
yourself an atheist, but you remain true to the
Christian feeling that a camel will sooner go
through a needle's eye than a rich man not be an
'un-man.' How many do you see anyhow that
you would not throw into the 'egoistic mass'?
What, therefore, has your philanthropy [love of
man] found? Nothing but unlovable men! And
where do they all come from? From j'ou, from
your philanthropy ! You brought the sinner with
you in your head, therefore you found him, there-
fore you inserted him everywhere. Do not call
men sinners, and they are not : you alone are the
creator of sinners ; you, who fancy that you love
men, are the very one to throw them into the
mire of sin, the very one to divide them into
vicious and virtuous, into men and un-men, the
very one to befoul them with the slaver of your
possessedness ; for you love not men, but man.
But I tell you, you have never seen a sinner, you
have only — dreamed of him."

"I want to be all and have all that I can
be and have." This, says Stirner, is the in-
evitable basis of conduct. To this we must
all come sooner or later. He adds :

"Whether others are and have anything similar,
what do I care? The equal, the same, they can
neither be nor have. I cause no detriment to
them, as I cause no detriment to the rock by
being 'ahead of it' in having motion. If they
could have it, they would have it.

"To cause other men no detriment is the point
of the demand to possess no prerogative ; to re-
nounce all 'being ahead,' the strictest theory of
renunciation. One is not to count himself as 'any-
thing especial,' such as, e.g., a Jew or a Christian.
Well, I do not count myself as anything especial,
but as unique. Doubtless I have similarity with
others ; yet that holds good only for comparison
or reflection ; in fact, I am incomparable, unique.
My flesh is not their flesh, my mind is not their
mind. If you bring them under the generalities
'flesh, mind,' those are your thoughts, which have
nothing to do with my flesh, my mind, and can
least of all issue a 'call' to mine.

"I do not want to recognize or respect in you

538

CURRENT LITERATURE

anything, neither the proprietor nor the raga-
muffin, nor even the man, but to use you. In salt
I find that it makes food palatable to me, there-
fore I dissolve it; in the fish I recognize an ali-
ment, therefore I eat it; in you I discover the
gift of making my life agreeable, therefore I
choose you as a companion. Or, in salt I study
crystallization, in the fish animality, in you men,
etc. But to me you are only v^rhat you are for
me, — to wit, my object; and because my object,
therefore my property."

The question arises finally: What is truth?
With relentless logic, Stirner replies: "As
long as you believe in the truth you do not
believe in yourself, and are a — servant, a —
religious man (that is, a bound man). You
alone are the truth, or, rather, you are more
than the truth, which is nothing at all before
you." He says, in concluding:

"The truth is dead, a letter, a word, a material
that I can use up. All truth by itself is dead, a
corpse; it is alive only in the same way as my
lungs are alive, — to wit, in the measure of my own
vitality. Truths are material, like vegetables and
weeds ; as to whether vegetable or weed, the de-
cision lies in me.

"Objects are to me only material that I use up.

Wherever I put my hand I grasp a truth, which I
trim for myself. The truth is certain to me, and
1 do not need to long after it. To do the truth a
service is in no case my intent; it is to me only
a nourishment for my thinking head, as potatoes
are for my digesting stomach, or as a friend is
for my social heart. As long as I have the humor
and force for thinking, every truth serves me
only for me to work it up according to my powers.
As reality or worldliness is 'vain and a thing of
naught' for Christians, so is the truth for me. It
exists exactly as much as the things of this world
go on existing altho the Christian has proved their
nothingness ; but it is vain, because it has its
value not in itself but in me. Of itself it is value-
less. The truth is a — creature.

"As you produce innumerable things by your
activity, yes, shape the earth's surface anew and
set up works of men everywhere, so too you may
still ascertain numberless truths by your thinking,
and we will gladly take dehght in them. Never-
theless, as I do not please to hand myself over to
serve your newly discovered machines mechan-
ically, but only help to set them running for my
benefit, so, too, I will only use your truths, with-
out letting myself be used for their demands.

"All truths beneath me are to my liking; a
truth above me, a truth that I should have to
direct myself by, I am not acquainted with. For
me there is no truth, for nothing is more than I !"

SOME AIDS TO THE PROPER GRILLING OF SINNERS

HE supreme task of the hour,"
says Prof. Edward Alsworth
Ross, of the University of
Nebraska, "is to get together and
build a rampart of moral standard, statute, in-
spection and publicity, to check the onslaught
of internal enemies." According to the view
of this stimulating ethical teacher, the Ameri-
can people is at present in the position of a
man with dulled knife and broken cudgel who
finds himself in the midst of an ever-growing
circle of wolves. "The old regulative sys-
tem," we are reminded, "is falling to pieces.
Few of the strong and ambitious have any
longer the fear of God before their eyes. Hell
is looked upon as a bogie for children. The
gospel ideals are thought unscientific. Upon
the practise of new sins there is no longer a
curb, unless it be public censure." So the
questions arise: Can there be fashioned out of
popular sentiment some sort of buckler for
society? Can our loathing of rascals be
wrought up into a kind of unembodied gov-
ernment, able to restrain the men that deri-
sively snap their fingers at the agents of the
law? Professor Ross is inclined to answer
both of these questions in the affirmative.

That the public scorn really bites into
wrongdoers of the modern type, he says, may

be read in the fate of "the insurance thieves."
They were "self-made Americans, country-
bred, genial, sensitive, uncarapaced by pride
of caste," and they cared so much what peo-
ple thought of them that they fled to exile and
the grave from the vitriol spray of censure.
"If only we can bring it to bear," comments
Professor Ross, "the respect or scorn of the
many is still an immense asset of society in
its struggle with sinners." He continues {At-
lantic Monthly, April) :

"The community need feel no qualm when lash-
ing the sinner. We are bidden to forgive our
enemies, but not the enemies of our society, our
posterity. For society to 'resist not evil' would
be folly, because for most of us society's attitude
fixes the guiding ideas of right and wrong. Any
outrage we can practise with impunity comes
finally to be looked upon as matter of course. To
the aggressor, the non-resisting community practi-
cally says, 'Trample me, please. Thanks!' Thus
it becomes a partner in his misdeeds. The public
that turns the other cheek tempts a man to fresh
sinning. It makes itself an accomplice in the un-
doing of a soul. It is the indulgent parent spoil-
ing the child. It is, therefore, our sacred duty,
not lazily to condone, but vigorously to pursue
and castigate the sinner. It is sad, but true, that
the community is prompter to correct the wife-
beater than the rebater or the dummy director.
Such indifference to the soul's health of eminent
citizens is deplorable."

Carrying the argument one step further,

RELIGION AND ETHICS

539

Professor Ross takes the position that a
healthy moral consciousness can be developed
in our community-life only by the renuncia-
tion of "certain false notions which now
hinder the proper grilling of sinners." The
first of these notions which he asks us to
abandon is "the fallacy that sinners should be
chastised only by their betters." He writes :

"What if the critics are no better than they
should be? Sinners are scourged, not to pro-
claim their moral inferiority, but to fortify people
against temptation. May not a weak man, un-
tempted, prop a stronger man who is under temp-
tation? Opportunity puts one's baser self in the
saddle ; whereas the comment of the disinterested
spectator utters his better self. If the baser self
of the tempted man could not profit hy the rebuke
of a public made up of men no better than he is,
many of us would go blind.

"Slow, indeed, would be moral uplift if the
public allowed itself to be silenced by the tu
quoque of the malefactor. Of course it would be
inspiring to be charmed on from height to height
by the voices of seers and the example of heroes.
But Isaiahs and Savonarolas are rare; and cer-
tain practises must be outlawed at once if we are
not to rot down together."

The second "error" against which Professor
Ross protests is the idea that "society's cas-
tigation of the sinner is merely the assertion
of the self-interest of the many." Men are
sometimes represented as acting only from
self-interest. The gas magnate claims the
right to defy municipal regulations, on the
ground that they express only the self-inter-
est of gas consumers; and the money-maker
tries to undermine the inconvenient law
which, according to his way of thinking, em-
bodies nothing but the will of the stronger or
bigger class bent on oppressing the weaker
or fewer. "Now, this," declares Professor
Ross, "is moral gangrene, so deadly that no
one with the infection ought to have place or
influence in society." He goes on to say:

"The truth is, law is shot through and through
with conscience. The uprising against rebating,
or monopoly, or fiduciary sin, registers, not the
self-interest of the many, but the general sense of
right. To be sure, an agitation against company
stores, or the two-faced practices of directors,
may start as the 'We won't stand it' of a victim-
ized class ; but when it solicits general support it
takes the form 'These things are wrong,' and it
can triumph only when it chimes with the com-
mon conscience. In the case of child labor, night
work for women, crimping and peonage, the oppo-
sition springs up among onlookers rather than
among victims, and is chivalric from the begin-
ning. The fact is, the driving force of the great
sunward movement now on is moral indignation.
Not one of the attempts to shackle the ne\yer
stripe of depredators lends itself to interpretation
in terms of self-interest. In every instance the
slogan has been, not 'Protect yourselves,' but 'Put
down iniquity !' "

Professor Ross next transfers his attention
to what he calls "the delusion that the non-
conformist is the real peril to society." The
trouble here, he thinks, lies in the fact that
we emphasize the wrong values, and let the
great sinners escape scot-free, while we casti-
gate the small sinners and the people who are
not sinners at all. To illustrate:

"At a moment when the supremacy of law
trembles in the balance, when our leading rail-
road magnate complains that it is not easy to
carry on a railroad business, 'if you always have
to turn to the legal department and find whether
you may or may not,' how bootless seem agitations
to put 'God' into the constitution, to enforce
strict Sabbath observance, to break up secret so-
cieties, or to banish negroes to the Jim Crow
car! These fatuous crusades against Gorky and
Madame Andrieva, against 'Mrs. Warren's Pro-
fession,' against 'anarchist' immigrants, against the
Mormons, undraped statuary, or the 'un-American'
labor union, or the foreigner's Sunday beer, recall
to mind the monks of Constantinople wrangling
over the nature of the Trinity while the Turks
were forcing the gates !"

Finally, Professor Ross attacks "the false
doctrine that the repression of the vicious is
more important than the repression of sin-
ners," defining vice as practises that harm
one's self and sin as conduct that harms an-
other. He writes on this point:

"The effort we expend on persons who go
astray with their eyes open is mostly wasted.
Usually they cannot be saved, nor are they worth
saving. Certainly let vice be made odious. But
when the public exerts itself to stamp out drink-
ing and the social evil, it slackens its war on sin,
and, moreover, it simply forestalls natural process.
Nature limits at last the spread of vice, and the
sooner those of congenitally weak will and base
impulses eliminate themselves, the better for the
race. . . .

"Sin, on the contrary, is not self-limiting. If a
ring is to be put in the snout of the greedy strong,
only organized society can do it. In every new
helpful relation the germ of sin lurks, and will
create there a pus center if social antisepsis be
lacking. Then how tragic a figure is a victim of
sin ! To perish of diseased meat to make a
packer's dividend is sadder than to perish through
one's own thirst for whisky. The invalid bled by
the medical fakirs is more to be pitied than the
'sucker' fleeced in the pool-room. For the man
who is the prey of the vile inclinations of others
surely has a better claim on us than the man who
is the prey of his own evil inclinations."

Let us never forget, says Professor Ross, in
concluding, that "the master-iniquities of our
time are connected with money-making" and
that "child-drivers, monopoly-builders and
crooked financiers have no fear of men whose
thought is run in the molds of their grand-
fathers." He adds : "If you want a David-
and-Goliath fight you must attack the powers
that prey, not on the vices of the lax, but on
the necessities of the decent."

540

CURRENT LITERATURE

PAUL BEFORE THE JUDGMENT SEAT OF CRITICISM

O BIBLICAL character is at pres-
ent the object of such derogatory
criticism on the part of advanced
theologians as is the great apostle
of the Gentiles. "Away from Paul and back
to Christ!" has become the battle-cry of one
section of the "higher critics" of Germany,
and finds an echo in many other countries.
Dr. Julius Koegel, a German theological
writer who defines and analyzes the whole
anti-Pauline movement in that vigorous con-
servative church journal, Die Reformation, of
Berlin, lays special stress on the efforts made
by radical thinkers to show that Paul was a
man of diseased mind, suffering from epilepsy.
This attitude finds expression even in the Ger-
man fiction of the day, and is strongly re-
flected in the famous "Hilligenlie" of Pastor
Frenssen. In that novel occurs the passage :

"Paul was a man who was diseased through
and through, notwithstanding his great learning
and high culture. He himself reveals this fact in
many places in his epistles; he was nervous, and
tormented by mental anxieties and perplexities
which made life for him a constant source of
misery and a kind of living death. From time
to time his epileptic attacks assumed such propor-
tions that in the unconscious state that resulted
he saw wonderful heavenly visions and had
ecstatic hallucinations."

By many theologians this is accepted as a
true portrayal of the temperament of Paul.
We are asked to believe that his abnormal
psychology was responsible for his "pessimis-
tic" view of the sins and frailties of mankind.
He felt that men must be "saved" by some-
thing outside of themselves, and he found
what he sought in the death of Jesus, to which
he assigned a power which Jesus Himself
had never thought of. In describing what Paul
as a theologian has added to the original
teachings of Christ, Professor Wrede, of
Breslau, says :

"The whole matter is summed up in the one
statement that Paul made Christianity a religion
intended to redeem and save mankind. He found
this saving power not within man, but outside of
him, in the divine redemption plan, which once
for all provided salvation for mankind. In other
words: the novelty of Paul's teachings is to be
found in the fact that he makes the whole history
of the relation of God to man a history of re-
demption. His great innovation lies in his making
the redemptive acts — the incarnation, the death
and the resurrection of Jesus — the foundation of
the Christian religion."

In the light of such reasoning Paul be-

comes the founder of Christianity in the
form in which it has been accepted by the
Church ever since the Apostolic era. On ac-
count of his subjective mental condition, it is
contended, he engrafted upon the primitive
gospel a new Christology and an Atonement
theory that was not, in the true sense, Chris-
tian, but grew out of his exaggerated notion
of human depravity. It is not claimed that
Paul intentionally perverted the gospel of
Jesus. Rather the gospel itself is represented
as a development influenced by the personality
of the apostle, and to a certain extent the
result of the general religious thought of the
age. But Paul, according to the "new the-
ology," was mentally unbalanced; he was
ecstatic and hysterical, and these characteris-
tics appear in the body of doctrine which he
committed to the church. The cry, "Back to
Jesus" is interpreted as meaning: Removal
from the doctrinal body of the church's belief
of all the teachings and dogmas which, ac-
cording to critical opinion, were not promul-
gated by the "historical Christ" of the Synop-
tic gospels.

Dr. Koegel meets this position in a lengthy
article in Die Reformation. He says in sub-
stance :

1. Paul himself is certainly not in the slightest
degree conscious of anj' discrepancy between his
teachings and those of the Master. On the con-
trary, he is most outspoken in declaring that he
teaches only that which has been delivered unto
him. Neither does he pretend to supplement or
complement the original gospel. Rather he pro-
nounces his anathema on any who would change
even an iota in the gospel as it has been delivered
to us. He constantly appeals to Christ and His
teachings, and at most recognizes in his own
doctrine a commentary on the gospel which
Christ Himself had lived and taught.

2. The only way in which criticism can
create^ an impassable chasm between Jesus and
Paul is by an absolutely subjective handling of
the gospels. Even tho, for the sake of argtiment, we
put aside the Johannine Christology of the fourth
gospel, the fact remains that the Synoptic gospels,
if allowed to convey their own clear meaning,
make it evident that the purpose of Christ's com-
ing into the world was the redemption of man-
kind through His death. A fair interpretation of
the Synoptic gospels shows that the historical
facts therein described constitute the basis of
Paul's theology, which is at most only an elabora-
tion of what Christ Himself teaches and says. It
is only by arbitrary removal of many of the most
important passages from the Synoptic gospels that
it is possible to make the original gospel of Christ
essentially different in substance from that which
Paul taught and which the church has accepted
through all the centuries.

Music and the Drama

THE MAN OF THE HOUR— GEORGE BROADHURST'S
DRAMATIZATION OF GRAFT

HE Man of the Hour" is a play of
the hour. The time is the present,
the place any large city in Amer-
ica, and recent political happen-
ings in Aew York have evidently furnished
the plot. Several characters closely resem-
ble men prominent in this city, such as Mayor
McClellan and the present leader of Tam-
many Hall. While these are slightly dis-
guised, Phelan, district leader and former
chief of police, avowedly "touches on and ap-
pertains to" Devery, that racy Irishman who
has become a traditional figure in American
politics. It is claimed for "The Man of the
Hour," from which, by courtesy of Mr. W.
Brady, the following excerpts are taken,
that it has not met with a single ad-
verse criticism, but leaped into immediate
favor. It undoubtedly possesses elements of
strength and sincerity characteristic of good
melodrama. The same may be said for Mr.
Broadhurst's other play, "The Mills of the
Gods," now running in this city.

The first act introduces us to Charles Wain-
wright, an unscrupulous financier, and Scott
G. Gibbs, a prospective betrothed of his
niece, Dallas Wainwright. Both men are of
the same moral caliber, and hold that a man
is entitled to all he can get within the letter
of the law. Wainwright is about sixty. He
is unmarried, the making of money havin|r
completely absorbed his time and attention.
Even in his summer home, where the scene is
laid, he has a private wire keeping him in
touch with the Stock Exchange. He is crafty,
cautious, treacherous and merciless, but dis-
likes to fight in the open. "A lion," he says,
"would hunt much more successfully if he
did not roar so loudly." Gibbs is a man of
thirty or thirty-five, irreproachably attired.
He is a shrewd broker and a heavy and des-
perate speculator. There is also present
Thompson, Wainwright's secretary, a man of
about twenty-six, ostensibly softspoken, unof-
fensive, painstaking and deferential. This
manner, however, is assumed, and underneath
his servile attitude appears an occasional nar-
rowing of the eyes, a dogged settine of the
jaw and a quiet watchfulness. Wainwright,

having tried him time and time again, trusts
him implicitly. He would be very careful if
he knew that Thompson's real name is Gar-
rison, and that he is the son of a man to whom
he had wilfully given false financial advice,
and who had in consequence been driven to
suicide. There also appear on the premises
Perry, Wainwright's nephew and the brother
of Dallas, Judge Newman, protege of Wain-
wright's, and Bennett, the hero of the play,
a good-looking, prepossessing man of thirty.
He comes of fighting stock, but his father, a
former general in the civil war, who after-
wards went into business, had left him a for-
tune, and the thought of work for work's sake
has never seemingly entered his head. He
idolizes his mother and the memory of his
father. The mother is a woman of distinc-
tion and refinement. While not old-fashioned
or somber-minded, the romance of her life
died with her husband and she lives now only
for her boy. The latter is in love with Dallas.
A false rumor of Gibb's betrothal to the girl
secretly given out by the broker determines
Bennett to ask for her hand. She tells him
that her heart is free, but that so far, he hav-
ing been satisfied with being only his father's
son, cannot command b.er respect. He prom-
ises her to change his ways and to inaugurate
a life of action. The chance is offered him
only a few minutes later. Wainwright, it ap-
pears, has a great plan to apply for a per-
petual franchise for the Borough Street Rail-
way. He owns a rival line, and has been
secretly at work buying up the stock of the
former. To accomplish his aim, he has asso-
ciated himself with Gibbs, and then proceeds
to make a deal with Richard Horigan, city
boss. Horigan is a man of thirty-five, pos-
sessed of great physical strength and bulldog
tenacity. He is essentially a fighting man, giv-
ing no quarter and asking none. The only
district leader whom he has not been able to
whip into line is Bill Devery's counterpart —
Phelan. Wainwright has invited both, so as
to bring about a reconciliation, and thus to
control a two-thirds majority of the alder-
men. Phelan enters before the arrival of
the boss, of whose coming he has not been

542

CURRENT LITERATURE

informed, and the following conversation
takes place:

Phelan : Howdy !

Wainwright: Alderman {they shake hands),
let me introduce Mr. Gibbs. This is Alderman
Phelan.

Phelan : Of the Eighth— the only man who ran
independent last election and carried his ward.
Gibbs: Glad to meet you, Alderman.
Phelan: Same to you.
Wainwright: Were you on time?
Phelan: About fifteen minutes behind, that's
all. {Wainwright looks at watch.)

Wainwright: So you were. It's later than I
thought.

Phelan {to Wainwright): Say, Horigan thmks
he can down me next Fall. Nothin' to it. I'll
bury his man so deep, a steam-shovel couldn't
dig him out.

Wainwright: Confident, aren't you?
Phelan: Why not? There ain't a voter in the
Ward — Dago, Greek, or White — that I can't call
by his first name and tell him how many children
he has. I've got my people right where I want
'em. Horigan ! Wait, that's all !

Wainwright : Why don't you and Horigan burj-^
the hatchet?

Phelan : The only time I ever bury any hatchet
with Dick Horigan his head'll go with it.

Gibbs: Is it wise to fight so strong a man?

Phelan : It's all right for me, because he's got
to come into my territory to whip me ! Besides,
I'd be lonesome if I didn't have a fight on hand.
I'm the original red rag to the bull of trouble,
and I like it.

Wainwright: I want you and Horigan to be
friends.

Phelan: Mm! Mm!

Wainwright : Come, now, if I had invited Hor-
igan to meet you here to-day, for instance,
wouldn't he be welcome?

Phelan : Sure — he'd be as welcome as the ty-
phoid fever.

Wainwright : Well, you might as well know —
I have invited him.

Phelan: Here — to meet me?

Wainwright: Yes. But he doesn't know it any
more than you did.

Phelan: If that's what you're plannin', you're
wastin' time. Horigan don't like me any more
than I do him, and I love him like a Carolina
nigger loves plowin' time.

Wainwright : He's liable to be here any minute
now.

Phelan : Then there's no use my waitin' any
longer.

Wainwright: You're not afraid to meet him,
are you?

Phelan {quietly but coninncingly) : Afraid !
There ain't a man livin' I'm afraid to meet.
{Butler enters.)

Butler: Mr. Horigan, sir.

Wainwright: Show him in.

Horigan : Good morning, Mr. Wainwright, I

was {Horigan sees Phelan. There is a short

pause.) What's this?

Phelan {indicating Wainwright) : Ask him.

Horigan {to Wainwright) : Well, what is it?

Wainwright: I disliked to see two such good
fellows pulling against each other, and I wanted
to bring you together.

Horigan : What did he say ?

Phelan: I said there was nothing doing

Horigan : That goes double with me.

Wainwright: Come now. Isn't there any pos-
sible way I

Horigan: There isn't. {To Phelan) I'm after
you, Phelan, and this time I'm going to get you.

Phelan : You're as welcome as the flowers in
Spring ! And don't forget this : I'm after you I

Horigan {scornfully): You!
Phelan: Me! You're standin' pretty soHd now,
but remember — you ain't no sphinx! You can be
pulled down !

Horigan: At least we understand each other —

Phelan: Yes, and always did.

Horigan {to Wainwright) : If this was the
business you asked me to come here on, I want
to say

Wainwright: It wasn't the business.

Horigan : Then perhaps we can get to it when
he's gone.

Phelan: That's the end o' the session for me.
{To Wainwright) So long.

Wainwright : I'm sorry. Alderman. You'll stay
to lunch, I hope. {Wainwright rings bell.)

Phelan: No, thanks. I can get a bite in the
village. When's the next train? {Butler ap-
pears.)

Wainwright {to Butler) : See that this gentle-
man gets all the information he desires; place a
car at his disposal and do everything else he
wishes.

Butler: Yes, sir. {Butler goes out.)

Phelan: Much obliged. {To Gibbs) So long.

Gibbs: Good-bye, Mr. Phelan.

Phelan {to Horigan) : As for you, some day
I'll drop something on you, and if it don't knock
you flat I'll come back to walk round you nnd
see what's holdin' you up. {Phelan goes out.)

Horigan : Damn him !

Wainwright: Let me introduce Mr. Gibbs.

Horigan : How are you ?

Gibbs: Mr. Horigan.

Horigan : Did you hear what he said, "He was
going after me." Bill Phelan, pull me down !

Gibbs : There's not much chance of that

Horigan : There's none. But I'll get him. I've
got to get him — for the sake of discipline. If he
can defy me and win, others might think they
can, so I've got to get him. {To Wainwright)
Why did you bring him here?

Wainzvright : For the reason I gave you. I am
interested in a matter to which there is sure to
be opposition.

Horigan : Well ?

Wainzvright: And I want to win over any pos-
sible ally of the enemy before war is declared.

Horigan : You're a clever man, Mr. Wain-
wright, but there are some things even you don't
understand. I daren't compromise with Phelan,
if I wanted. If a man in the organization starts
a fight with me there's no turning back. I never
compromise with him. I crush him. That has
kept me where I am. Everyone of them knows
that with me it's obey or fight, and if it's a fight,
then it's a fight to a finish.

Here Judge Newman enters and is treated
by Horigan as a subordinate. Wainwright
puts in a good word for him and, after pledg-
ing his word to do "the square thing" by his
political friends, the judge is assured of reap-

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

543

pointment. When finally, save for the unob-
served vicinity of Thompson, Wainwright's
secretary, the rinancier and the boss are alone,
they put through a deal to the effect that
Wainwright is to contribute $200,000 to the
campaign fund, and thafHorigan is to receive
twenty-five thousand shares of the Borough
Company's stock. The next question is to
agree on the proper candidate. He must be
a man with a good name, a young man, with
money, or, as Horigan phrases it, "a man the
public thinks is out to do his duty, but one
we know we can handle." They finally agree
on young Bennett. The latter first thinks the
matter a joke, but accepts when he hears that
there is a fighting chance. He states, how-
ever, firmly, that if elected he will keep his
oath of office. "Sure you will," Horigan re-
marks ironically, and the curtain drops.

The next act takes place in the office of the
Mayor. Bennett has been elected and the
infamous Borough Company Bill is now sub-
mitted for his final consideration. He has
gone carefully over the instrument and dis-
covered a number of "jokers." He is al-
ready strongly inclined to veto the bill when
Phelan appears and calls his attention to the
men behind it and their methods of opera-
tion. Gibbs also appears and incidentally
hints that by signing or vetoing the bill Ben-
nett can either give him and his friends a
fortune or take one from them. Bennett re-
sents the indelicacy of such a suggestion under
the circumstances. After both Gibbs and
Phelan have made their exit, Horigan enters,
in a high state of excitement.

Horigan: I understand Phelan was here this
afternoon.

Bennett {quietly) : He was.

Horigan : About what ?

Bennett : Business.

Horigan : What business ?

Bennett: My business.

Horigan : Well, I want you to understand one
thing. No man can be friendly with Horigan
and Phelan at the same time. It's him or me. Is
that plain?

Bennett (still quietly) : Perfectly. And now I
want you to understand one thing. No man can
bully me, either in this room or out of it. Is that
plain ?

Horigan : Do you mean to say

Bennett : You will oblige me also in the future
by at least knocking on the door before you come
in. This is my office and no other man's.

Horigan : Do you mean to say

Bennett : That's twice you've said that. Is it
your hearing or my speech that is defective?

Horigan : Bennett, you and me have got to
come to a show down. You're a bright young
fellow, you made a great fight and won ; the pub-
lic likes you and the press Hkes you, and you're
the best material the party's got to-day. If you

do what's right, there'll be nothing you can't
have. But you've got to do what's right.

Bennett : What do you mean by doing what's
right ?

Horigan : I mean you've got to do the square
thing by them who made you.

Bennett: And who did make me?

Horigan : Dick Horigan ! Who were you till
I took you up? Nobody! If I didn't make you
the mayor of this town, I'd like to know who did.

Bennett : The people did.

Horigan : The hell they did ! Who gave you
the nomination?

Bennett: You. T admit that. But the people
elected me, and I'm going to do exactly as you
advise — I'm going to do the square thing by those
who made me.

Horigan: You mean to say

Bennett : There it is again ! However, I'll tell
you this time. I hiean that before I sign that bill
I've got to know that it's for the good, not of the
party, not of the organization, but of the city. 1
told you I should keep my oath of office. I intend
to do it.

Horigan : You'll sign that bill or

Bennett: Or what?

Horigan : Or your political career ends right
now. You think you're on top, and that you can
stay on top without the men who put you there.
But you can't. I can pull you down just as easily
as I put you up, and I'll do it unless you sign
that bill. I pledged my word on it long before
the election and you've got to do it.

Bennett : I made no such pledge. Before you
did you should have been sure you could deliver
the goods.

Horigan : Then — you won't sign it !

Bennett : You said we should have to come to
a show down. This is where we do it. You
have no collar on my neck, Mr. Horigan. I wear
no man's tag. You can't sell me either for pres-
ent or future delivery. If I sign that bill it will
be because I think it an honest one — not because
you agreed that I should do it.

Horigan : I don't care why you sign it as long
as you do sign it.

Bennett: Do you think it an honest bill?

Horigan : Do I ! What do you take me

for? I don't care whether it's honest or not.

Bennett : Well, I do — and I think it's crooked.

Horigan : Oh you do, eh ?

Bennett : Yes, I do. It permits them to use
any motive power they please, it allows them to
charge five-cent fares without transfers ; the little
joker in paragraph six allows them to build a
subway if they desire it; they could also build a
conduit and rent it for telegraph or telephone
wires ; in fact, it gives the streets, not for fifty
years, not for a hundred years, but forever. This
franchise delivers to the Borough Company,
bound hand and foot, not only us but our children
and their children's children until the day of
Judgment, and I tell you that the time for such
things has gone by, never to return.

Horigan : So we've elected a reformer, have
we?

Bennett : I was placed in my position to pro-
tect and defend the rights and property of my
constituents. That bill asks me to give away a
franchise for which I am offered two million
dollars cash.

Horigan : What ?

Bennett: I thought that would surprise you.

544

CURRENT LITERATURE

In addition to this cash offer, the gentlemen agree
to give to the city ten per cent, of the gross re-
ceipts, and to turn over the entire plant at a fair
valuation at the end of fifty years if the city de-
sires it.

Horigan: Who does that? (Bennett hands him
the letter.) I guessed it was one of those yellow
newspapers. You don't suppose he means it, do
you?

Bennett: I am sure he does. He's a business
man as well as an editor. His word is good.
Besides, he agrees to deposit a check for a million
dollars to bind the bargain. And now, why is the
Council so eager to give away what this man is
willing to pay for so liberally ?

Horigan: How should I know?

Bennett : You do know — and yet I'll tell you.
The answer is graft, Mr. Horigan, graft!

Horigan : What do you call graft ?

Bennett : Graft is money to which a man is
not morally entitled.

Horigan : Then every man is a grafter. A
lawyer will take a fee for showing his client how
he can break the law and evade the punishment-—
graft ! Churches and colleges accept money they
know has been obtained by fraud and oppression
— graft ! Newspapers and magazines publish ad-
vertisements they know to be fakes and worse —
graft ! A congressman will vote for an appro-
priation with the understanding that other con-
gressmen will vote for his — graft ! A railroad
president accepts stock in a firm which ships over
his line — graft ! Senators become millionaires on
a salary of five thousand a year — graft ! And so
it goes high and low, rich and poor, they all graft.
In fact, the man who doesn't graft hasn't the
chance or else he's a fool.

Bennett : You're wrong. Honesty pays now
just as it has always done and always will do.
Why did the people of Wisconsin send La Fol-
lette to the Senate? Because, whatever his faults,
they knew he was an honest man ! Why did the
people of Missouri make Folk their Governor?
Because, whatever his faults, they knew he was
an honest man ! And why did the people of the
United States make Roosevelt President? Be-
cause, whatever his faults, they knew he was an
honest man ! This bill isn't honest, but I am, and
I won't sign it.

Horigan : Then veto it. Veto it ! And to prove
what I think of the newspapers — and the people —
and to show you what size you are, and what I
think of you, I'll pass it over your veto. You're
an accident — just an accident — and you propose
to stack up against me.

Bennett: That's exactly what I propose to do.
I'll fight your bill in the Council and I'll fight it
out of the Council. It takes a two-thirds ma-
jority to pass anything over my veto. You'll need
fourteen votes. You have only thirteen. I'll see
that you don't get the other.

Horigan : And I'll see that I do.
Bennett : Moreover, I know there's bribery
here. I'll find who gives it and I'll find who takes
it, and then I'll jail them every one. I'll not only
jail the aldermen who take the bribes, I'll jail the
"gentlemen" who give them.

Horigan : Then let me tell you that the man

who's back of this bill, the man you'll have to

jail, is Mr. Wainwright, the uncle of the girl you

are in love with.

Bennett : That's no great news.

Horigan : Then perhaps this is. Every dollar

of her fortune, every dollar of her brother's for-
tune, has been invested by Wainwright in Bor-
ough Street Railway stock, and if you beat this
franchise you'll ruin them both. You hear, you'll
ruin them both, the girl and her brother. And
now do what you like about it and be damned
to you.
Bennett : I'll show you what I'll do.

(Bennett takes a pen, writes on franchise and
shows it to Horigan:)

There

Horigan : You've vetoed it !
Bennett: I've vetoed it. And now do as you
like about it and be damned to you.

The third act takes place in the parlor of
the Charlton Hotel, where the annual admin-
istration ball is being held. All the charac-
ters from the previous act appear; also
Payne, a reporter, and Roberts, one of the
aldermen not controlled by the boss. His
vote is needed, especially as Ellis, one of the
"gang," has taken French leave to escape the
necessity of voting for the bill. Horigan prom-
ises to take over two of his notes and to put
through a park bill heretofore unsuccessfully
pushed by the aldermen from his district, pro-
vided Roberts will vote for the slightly
amended bill. Roberts, who is fundamentally
an honest man, finally weakens and yields to
the superior sophistry of the boss. Thereupon
Judge Newman, who is also present at the
ball, which is always an important political
happening, is commissioned to mediate be-
tween the mayor and the "interests." Ben-
nett had in the previous scene disclosed to his
mother that, in order to save Dallas's for-
tune he had supplied her brother. Perry, with
sufficient capital to sell short the stock af-
fected, so that she would not be the loser,
whatever the outcome of his struggle with the
machine might be. He is prepared to fight
tooth and nail, but, nevertheless, he gives cour-
teous hearing to the old judge.

Judge : Take the advice of a man much older
than yourself, and who has seen many promising
careers blighted by one foolish step. Do not an-
tagonize the interests I have mentioned. The
public forgets — money and politics never do.

Bennett : I do not take mv position to please
them or the public. I do it for my own purpose,
and to please myself.

Judge : If you will do as they desire — if you
remain neutral — I am authorized to offer you

Bennett: Yes?

Judge : The nomination for Governor when
your term as Mayor has expired.

Bennett: So, that's the bribe, is it, and you are
the man selected as the go-between !

Judge (indignantly): Bribe! Go-between!
What do you mean, sir?

Bennett: Aren't you trying to bribe me?

Judge : No, sir.

Bennett : Then what are you trying to do ?

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

545

Judge : I merely came to you with a proposi-
tion.

Bennett : Didn't you offer the nomination for
Governor in return for the betrayal of a trust !
If that isn't bribery, what is it? (There is a
short pause.) Come, what is it?

Judge : It's — it's

Bennett : I decline the offer, Mr. Newman. I
am not surprised that they should offer it, but I
am surprised that you should bring it. You, a
judge ! A judge ! ! God help justice while money
and politics can control the judges! {Goes out.)

Judge (alone) : Well ! Well !

(Gibbs and Dallas enter from the ball-room.
They see the indignation and perturbation of the
judge.)

Gibbs
Judge ?
Judge :
Dallas :
Judge :
Gibbs :
Judge :
Dallas ;

(coming down) : What's the matter,

I have just been grossly insulted.
Insulted ?
Yes.

By Mr. Bennett?
Yes. It was outrageous.
You must be mistaken. Judge. Mr.
Bennett is a gentleman. (IVainwright enters.)

Judge : Not, if I know one.

Waimvright : Hello! What's wrong?

Gibbs: Judge Newman says Bennett has in-
sulted him.

Wainwright : Is that surprising ?

Dallas : To me, yes !

Wainwright : Naturally ! If you can be on
friendly terms with Bennett after what he has
said about me, you must think he can't insult any
man.

Gibbs : What was the trouble ?

Judge : I had been sent to him with a message
from — from

Wainwright: I sent to ask him to be friends
and let the past be forgotten. I requested the
judge to be my spokesman, because I thought his
position and his gray hairs would at least com-
mand respect. But I was mistaken. Judge, I
apologize for the indignity I caused you. I should
have known better.

Judge : That's all right, Charles.

Dallas: Mr. Bennett refused the offer?

Judge : Indignantly. He compared Mr. Wain-
wright to a highwayman !

Wainwright (to Dallas) : A highwayman. Do
you hear? (To judge) You are sure it was only
a highwayman, not a child stealer, or a grave-
robber, or some pleasant little thing like that?

Dallas: Why did Mr. Bennett refuse?

Judge : Because of the Borough Franchise

Dallas : Then there were conditions to the offer
of friendship.

Wainwright: Of course there were.

Dallas (to Wainwright): What conditions?

Wainwright (to Judge) : You tell her. She
might not believe me.

Dallas : Uncle.

Judge: The only condition was that Mr. Ben-
nett remain neutral in the Borough Franchise
matter.

Gibbs: Neutral! That's fair enough.

Wainwright: Certainly, it is.

Judge: Mr. Bennett didn't seem to think so.
His refusal was abusive and intemperate. I tried
to show where his duty lay, but he simply would
not listen.

Wainwright : Did you point out that practically

every concession he demanded had been granted?

Judge : 1 did, but it made no difference. I sim-
ply cannot understand his attitude. It seems to
me that he must have some ulterior motive.

Dallas : Impossible.

Judge: And yet he said he took his attitude to
please himself and for personal reasons.

Dallas: But what personal reasons?

Judge : That I don't know.

Wainwright: Well — I do.

Dallas : Uncle.

Wainwright : You are the personal reasons.

Judge : Ah !

Dallas : I am ?

Wainwright: You. It is no secret that he
wishes to marry you. Neither is it a- secret that
Mr. Gibbs wishes to marry you.

Dallas: Well?

Wainwright: Gibbs is interested with me and
interested heavily. If Bennett defeats the bill
again it means that practically all Gibbs has will
be lost. If that occurs, he must, as an honest
man, drop out of the running, leaving the field
clear for Bennett. The scheme has been known
to us for some time, but at Gibbs's request I kept
silent.

Gibbs (to Dallas) : I was afraid you might mis-
construe

Dallas : I don't believe it. He would not do
such a thing!

Wainwright: That shows how much you un-
derstand him.

Dallas : I don't believe it.

Wainwright : To gain his point he has not only
planned to ruin Gibbs, but he is willing to beggar
Perry and yourself as well.

Dallas : To beggar Perry and me !

Wainwright: Yes. Thinking that Borough
Stock was a safe and profitable purchase, I sold
out the investments I was holding for you, and
put everything in the Borough Company.

Dallas : Then, if Mr. Bennett succeeds. Perry
and I will be dependent on you?

Wainwright : You will. Bennett knew this — he
knows it now. But does 3-our welfare or Perry"s
cut any figure with him? Not so long as it in-
terferes with his plans against Gibbs. What does
he care about you, so long as he can down him?

Judge : Everything is clear now.

Dallas : It doesn't seem possible ; and yet he
— (to Gibbs) he did know about you, did he?

Gibbs : Please don't question me. I prefer to
say nothing.

Waimvright: That's the Quixotic position he
has taken, altho he knows he will probably be
beggared because of you.

Dallas : If I am the cause, I'm very sorry.

Gibbs : Oh — please

Dallas: And if Mr. Bennett has

Gibbs: I don't blame Bennett. If I had it in
my power to beat him, I'd do it.

Wainwright : If you could do it fairly, but not
if it means what it means to Dallas and Perry.

Dallas: But perhaps he doesn't know about it?

Wainwright : But he does, I tell you ! He knew
it when he vetoed the bill. He knows it while
he's working against this one. But would he let
his "love" for you or his "friendship" for Perry,
or anything else in the world stand in his way if
he once set out to do a thing? He wouldn't, and
you know it. Don't you?

Dallas: I— I

Wainwright : Of course you do.

546

CURRENT LITERATURE

Gibbs: I can't say how sorry I am that Mr.
Wainwright has told you.

{Bennett enters.)

As for my troubles {Gibbs sees Bennett and

stops.)

Bennett {to Dallas) : My dance, I think.

Dallas : Just a minute, please ! You know, of
course, that Mr. Gibbs is interested in the Bor-
ough Street Railway Franchise. I heard him tell
you so.

Bennett: Please don't talk about such matters
now.

Dallas: I must. You know it, don't you?

Bennett: Yes.

Dallas: But do you know that Perry — to say
nothing of myself — is heavily involved, too? Do
you know that if you succeed all the money that
we have will be lost, and that we shall be de-
pendent on Mr. Wainwright?

Bennett : Dallas !

Dallas: Do you know it? {There is a short
pause) Answer me.

Bennett: Yes, I know it.

Dallas : And, knowing it means ruin for us,
you still intend to oppose the bill?

Bennett : I must.

Dallas: Why?

Bennett: It is my duty to oppose it.

Gibbs: Duty!

Wainwright : That's a fine excuse ! Whether
you are wrong or right about the bill you did your
full "duty" when you vetoed it. That declared
your position. It showed everybody exactly where
you stood. Why go out of your way to fight it
after that?

Bennett: I decline to be drawn into any dis-
cussion with you — here — Mr. Wainwright.

Wainwright : You see.

Dallas: Realizing all this means to my uncle,
to Perry and me, you still insist on fighting the
bill?

Bennett: I can't turn back now.

Wainwright : What did I tell you ? What does
he care for you or Perry or anyone in this world
who happens to stand in his way?

Dallas {to Bennett) : There is no reason for
waiting to explain. Everything is perfectly clear.

Bennett: But it isn't. You don't under-
stand

Dallas: That is where you are mistaken. I do
understand. {To Gibbs) You have waited for an
answer long enough. I am ready to give it now.
It is "Yes."

Gibbs : Dear

Bennett: You mean?

Dallas: I have promised to be the wife of Mr.
Gibbs.

Bennett: Dallas!

Dallas {to Gibbs) : Your arm, please.

Bennett: Dallas! {Dallas and Gibbs go out to-
gether.)

Wainwright: That fixes that little matter all
right.

Judge : Several things I didn't understand are
clear to me, too.

Wainwright : No matter what happens now.
you quit loser. Come, Judge. {Wainwright and
judge go out.)

A short pause foUov^^s. Then Horigan en-
ters with a report proving conclusively that
Bennett's father was in reality a king of graft-

ers. The report will be burned if Bennett
"does the right thing." The news is a terrible
blow to Bennett and to his mother, before
whom he puts the case. Nevertheless, she
says: "Do the right thing, my boy. Do the
right thing."

The finale of the play is enacted in two
rooms in the City Hall — separated only by a
partition in which is a door. The room to
the right is used by Horigan as his office on
important occasions when his presence is
necessary; the other, next to it, adjoining the
council room, is usually unoccupied. Horigan,
Wainwright and Gibbs are consulting in sup-
pressed anxiety. Ellis has not yet been found,
Roberts is again wavering, and the galleries are
packed with a crowd of citizens inimical to the
bill. Among the spectators are Perry and Dal-
las, who have secured seats near the room to
the right. Bennett's firm stand forebodes no
facile conquest, and when finally Roberts re-
turns with the notes, taken up by Wain-
wright, and places them on the table and de-
clares his intention to withdraw from their
camp, their misgivings turn to consternation.
While the boss is arguing with the recreant
alderman, Bennett enters and quickly takes
possession of the notes. Horigan dares not
prevent him by force from re-entering the
council room. Everything, it seems, is lost.
Gibbs is panic-stricken. Horigan suggests as
a final stroke that, money and ambition hav-
ing failed, Gibbs should offer Dallas, his
fiancee, as a bribe to the mayor. "It could do
no harm to try, and if he refused and said
anything about it, it would be your word
against his." Wainwright has already left the
room, Horigan does likewise. Gibbs in his
anxiety enters the room to the left and con-
fronts Bennett there.

Dallas happens to be in the adjoining room
while he makes his shameful proposal for
which Bennett treats him like a cur. Perry
tells her that Bennett, far from desiring to
ruin her, has indeed saved her fortune. She
asks Phelan for an interview with the Mayor.
The Irishman promises her one, and asks her
to wait in the room to the right. Meanwhile
Horigan. Wainwright and Bennett re-enter the
stage. They are now willing to come to terms.
The Boss opens the conversation.

Horigan: You've got us beat. We admit it,
so name your price.

Wainwright: Yes. What do you want?

Bennett: I have no price.

Horigan: You must want something, what is it?

Bennett: I want nothing.

Wainwright: Then why did you send for us?

Bennett: To tell you that tomorrow you'll both

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

547

be indicted for bribery, to let you know that every
step you take is watched, and that you can't get
away.

Wainwright : You can't prove anything against
me.

H origan (to Bennett) : You talk like a fool. If
you do indict me, what of it? I control the Dis-
trict Attorney and some of the judges! As for
this Roberts matter, I'm not worrying about that.
A smart lawyer can explain it in a thousand ways.

Wainwright : In any case, you can't connect me
with it.

Bennett : I think I can. Still I have this satis-
faction— if I fail, I can connect you with half a
dozen or so of similar enterprises.

Wainwright : Guess work and generalities are
not proof, Mr. Bennett.

Bennett: For instance, what about the two
hundred thousand dollars in cash and the twenty-
five thousand shares of stock at 63 which you
were to give Mr. Ilorigan for the Borough Fran-
chise? (PFawzyn'g/jf and H origan are amazed.)
Pretty good guess work, wasn't it?

Wainwright : That kind of evidence won't go
in court. The court will want proof, and you
have none.

Bennett: Haven't I? (Bennett opens door.
Thompson enters.)

Wainwright (astounded) : Thompson !

Thompson : No — not Thompson ! Garrison ! !

Wainwright (incredulous yet fearful) : Garri-
son!

Thompson : Yes. Garrison ! The son of the
man you betrayed, the son of the woman who died
because of it. That's who I am, Henry Garrison !

(The situation dawns on Wainwright. He is
overcome by the meaning and the horror of it.
He gasps and seems about to collapse,)

Bennett (to Wainwright) : Now you under-
stand?

Wainwright (to Thompson) : You have be-
trayed me?

Thompson : Betrayed you ! What have I been
waiting for and watching and working for, but
to betray you.

Horigan : I knew it.

Thompson : When they telegraphed me to come
home, what did I find? My mother dead — my

father disgraced, and with a bullet hole

(Thompson puts Jtis finger to his temple) And
you did it.

Wainwright : No !

Thompson : You did it. They wouldn't tell me
who it was, but I put things together and I soon
understood. Then I said, "I'll pay him back — no
matter how long it takes, I'll pay him back." I
schemed and planned and plotted, and the day I
went to work for you I knew my turn was sure
to come if I could only wait patiently and work
cautiously. So I schooled myself to be deferen-
tial, to fetch for you and carry for you, to say
"thank you, sir," and "I hope you are pleased,
sir," while all the time I was aching to put my
fingers to your throat. (Wainwright instinctively
puts his hands to his throat as if to protect him-
self.)

Wainwricht: Take him away!

Thompson: After a while you began to tempt
me and try me, but I understood and refused to
be caught. So day by day I worked myself into
your confidence until at last you trusted me, you
trusted me! The rest was easy!

Horigan : You were listening when I was there.

Thompson: I was always listening. (To Wain-
wright) I made copies of the confidential des-
patches you sent; I took down your private in-
terviews in shorthand; every day I made a dupli-
cate of the note-book into which I took your let-
ters as you dictated them, and I left you the copy
while I kept the original. I kept track of the
checks by which you completed your transactions,
and when the time came I procured them — I se-
cured the proofs, the absolute proofs, and I've
turned them over to him (indicating Bennett),
and you'll go to jail — you'll go to jail — and when
you come out I'll kill you! Do you hear? I'll kill
you !

Wainzvright : No ! No !

Bennett: Steady, boy

Thompson : I will — I will, I tell you. I'll kill
you ! If I could wait nine years for this, don't
you think I can wait for that? (Wainwright looks
about apprehensively and appealingly.) Nine
years. Nine years of humbling myself — of watch-
ing— and waiting — and praying — for the day to
come, and it's here — it's here — at last — it's here.
(Thompson sobs hysterically. Bennett panto-
mimes for Phelan to take him away.)

Wainwright: I withdraw the bill. (Williams
looks at Horigan.)

Horigan: Don't you understand? He with-
draws the bill. See to it. (Williams goes out.)

Phelan (to Horigan) : I told you I should drop
something on you ! I've done it, too.

Horigan : You !

Phelan : Me ! I found Thompson. I saw him
with Wainwright, knew I'd seen him before,
thought it over, remembered, and then went after
him.

Horigan (to Bennett) : About that report, don't
forget that.

Bennett : It will be published in the morning.

Horigan : No ! It wouldn't be good politics.
I'm going to hold it over.

Bennett: Oh, no, you're not. I have already
sent it to the press with the information that I
shall return to the city every dollar due under the
contracts.

Horigan : Bennett, you're either the biggest fool
or the best politician in the country.

Wainwright : There's no use — my asking for
mercy ?

Bennett: When did you ever have mercy?

Horigan : What's the matter with you, Wain-
wright ? So long as you have money, don't worry !
The woods are full of investigators, and subpoenas^
and indictments, but I notice there are damn few
rich men in jail even today. So brace up and
come along. (Horigan and Wainwright go out.)

Bennett: He's a rogue, but he has nerve.

Phelan : Yes, he's a game bird, all right, but
he flies funny ! Don't forget your other engage-
ment.

Bennett: What engagement? (Phelan opens
door. Dallas enters, and goes toward Bennett.
Phelan goes out.)

Dallas : I misunderstood

Bennett : What ?

You. Now I come to you freely and

Dallas :

fairly

Bennett
Dallas :
Bennett

: But Gibbs?

There's no one but you.

; Dallas ! (He takes her in his arms.)

CURTAIN.

548

CURRENT LITERATURE

GORKY'S NEW DRAMA OF THE REVOLUTION

AVING in a series of plays por-
trayed the life of the Russian
tramps and vagrants, the brutal
middle class, the ineffective and in-
capable "intellectuals," the superstitious and
ignorant peasants, the "barbarians" of the
higher classes and the corrupt, indolent, petty
bureaucracy of the provinces; having painted
a gallery of types which many critics complained
of as unduly ugly and deformed, Maxim
Gorky has written a new drama which may
be considered, according to one appreciative
writer, an apotheosis of the new Russia, the
revolutionary elements of the country in gen-
eral and of the emancipated proletariat in par-
ticular.

From Gorky's political writings it is known
that he has high hopes and great admiration
for the "enlightened, independent" social-
democratic workmen of Russia. In the new
play, called "The Enemies," he depicts some
of these workmen and their attitude toward
the employers. He tells an episode of the
"war of the classes," but he shows that the
employer class is being deserted by its best and
freshest representatives and raising up
enemies within itself, — that the revolution is
not entirely the work of the proletariat.

"The Enemies," like Hauptmann's "Weav-
ers," is a play of action and incident in which
the background, the atmosphere and the large
issues underlying it overshadow the personal
affairs of the leading characters. The Ger-
man reviewers (it has been produced in Ber-
lin, in the "Small Theater," a sort of free or
progressive stage, and nowhere else) and a
Berlin correspondent of a St. Petersburg
newspaper have found it undramatic, episodic,
lacking in coherence and crude in construc-
tion. There is much excitement and move-
ment, they say, and many persons come, shout,
conspire and go, leaving the audience be-
wildered and giving it no pleasure or emotion
that is proper to the true artistic drama.

But in a lengthy article in the Parisian
monthly. La Revue, a countrywoman of Gorky,
Vera Starkoff, claims artistic as well as social
significance for "The Enemies," and says that
Gorky's plays will be valued by coming gen-
erations as splendid, masterly pictures of the
revolutionary struggle that is now progressing
in Russia toward a climax. They are not
theatrical, and they give no pleasure to the
Philistines and the empty fashionable or bour-
geois audiences, but they are understood by

workmen, and their simplicity, naturalness and
realism, their laconic style and sober tone, are
the qualities that make them popular with
these builders of the new order.

The plot is summarized by Miss Starkoff,
and considerable of the dialog is reproduced
in her elaborate account of the play. It may
be condensed as follows :

'Two men, Michael and Zakhar, are proprietors
of a factory. The former is hard, tyrannical and
» cruel, the latter inclined to be fair and liberal,
partly through calculation and partly owing to a
better natural disposition. Michael has been away
on a long vacation, and the workmen take ad-
vantage of his absence to present a demand for
the dismissal of a particularly brutal foreman,
who strikes workmen on the least provocation.
Just then Michael returns, and as he finds that
discipline has been relaxed he tries to redouble
his severity and strictness.

"Remonstrated with, he laughs at 'justice' in
industry. He has no faith in modern 'fads' —
schools, lectures, rest-rooms, etc. He thinks that
the Russian laborer must be ruled with a rod of
iron. He complains that his partner has put
absurd notions into the workmen's heads.

"He will not dismiss the brutal foreman. He
beats workmen; what of that? Don't they fight
one another, get drunk, behave like beasts on
holidays? No, he will lock out all his men, shut
the doors of the factory, rather than yield. Let
starvation teach the agitators and malcpntents a
lesson. He will not encourage socialism and
revolt.

"His partner, Zakhar, weakly surrenders. He
says that, anyhow, he cannot manage factory
workers. He is out of his element in the city.
He knows peasants and can deal with them ;
they are gentle, patient, tractable. But the work-
men are turbulent and exacting, and there are
strange figures among them. . . , Zakhar's
wife shares his preference for the peasants and
calls the workmen 'the enemies.' She cannot un-
derstand their animosity, their 'ingratitude' their
discontent.

"Michael takes complete charge of the situation.
He makes matters worse by threats, violence and
repression. He calls on the police and the troops
for aid. He announces a lockout and in a demon-
stration strikes a workman. At that moment a
pistol is discharged by some one, and he falls —
dead.

"Then Zakhar tries to pacify the men. He will
continue the work, and order the troops away.
He will discharge the obnoxious foreman, and
put an end to brutality. But he will exact one
condition — the men must surrender the murderer
of his partner, the comrade who discharged the
pistol.

"The men hold consultations. Arrests are im-
minent. The leaders refuse to flee. The guilty
man is known to them. It is a young, ardent,
intelligent laborer, lakimoff. He is a valuable
man to the 'cause,' and, besides, he has a wife
and child. He means to confess and accept pun-
ishment in order to save his comrades and pre-

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

549

/y^^^c^^^.

vent suflfering and starvation. The leaders say
that some one else, less valuable, must be sub-
stituted for lakimoff. Several eagerly offer them-
selves. One very young man is very insistent.

He will go to Siberia, if necessary for life, to
hard labor in the mines, in order to save laki-
moff and the interests of the cause of the pro-
letariat.

"A military court meets at Zakhar's residence
to make an inquiry. The young workman makes
his 'confession,' but it is too flimsy, and the
judges can see that he is shielding some one else.
But they are callous, indifferent, and only ask a
victim of the same class as the real culprit.

ihe examination proceeds. Some of the men
display great courage, dignity and strength. The
judges insult them and cause indignation. Social
democracy is openly preached by the leaders of
the men. Zakhar's niece, Nadia, who is dem-
ocratic and friendly to labor and to justice, re-
volts and protests against the unfairness of the
judges. Her friend, Tatiana, who has offered
to sacrifice her honor in order to save a revolu-
tionary workman from arrest and punishment, is
also at the 'trial,' and she consoles Nadia, saying:
'These men will conquer.'

"Confusion ensues, and lakimoff rises and
avows his guilt. Nadia, in an excess of exalta-
tion at this act, cries to the judges and the pro-
prietors, 'You are the real murderers !' An old
workman says to her, 'Yes, Miss, the murderers
are not those who kill under excitement and a
sense of wrong, but those who engender hatred
and commit wrong.' Nadia despairs at the idea
of her own helplessness and uselessness. She
understands that her class is unjust and respon-
sible for the class struggle. 'Liberalism' is not
enough. The whole social order must be changed.

"The play ends with lakimoff's confession and
Nadia's outburst."

There are many episodes and incidents in
"The Enemies" that illustrate the inequality,
the caste feeling, the bitterness, the ignorance
which characterize the existing social-econ-
omic order. But Gorky's aim is to show the
progress of the workmen and the march of
social-democratic ideas in Russia, as well as
the futility of "bourgeois" liberalism and mere
philanthropy.

THE MUSICAL MESSAGE OF PUCCINI

O less than four composers of the
first rank — Leoncavallo, Saint-Saens,
Puccini and Elgar — have helped to
vitalize our musical season by visit-
ing the United States during the past winter.
Of them all, Puccini undoubtedly makes the
widest appeal to Americans. He is not only
the most gifted of living Italian composers, but
operatically "the man of the moment" — at least
in point of popularity — both in England and in
America. Last summer in London his operas
were given as often as Wagner's. In this
country "La Boheme," "Tosca" and "Madam
Butterfly" have all enjoyed phenomenal suc-
cess.

"A big, broad man, with a frank, open
countenance, dark, kindly eyes of a lazy, lus-
trous depth, and a shy, retiring manner — such
is Puccini," writes Wakeling Dry in a new
biographical study.* From the same author-
ity we learn that Puccini is nearing his fif-
tieth year, and that he was almost forty be-
fore he achieved any real reputation either
within or beyond his own country. His early
life was that of many a struggling artist.
His first operatic efforts, "Le Villi" and "Ed-
gar," were comparative failures. At the time
"Edgar" was in process of making he shared

•GiACOMo Puccini. By Wakeling Dry. John Lane
Company.

550

CURRENT LITERATURE

By Arthur Rackham

IN PETER-PAN-LAND
When the fairies have their tiffs with the birds.

with companions as poor as himself a little
attic in Milan. He still keeps the diary and
register of expenses which tell of days of
hardship and semi-starvation, and, in one
place, of a herring which served as "a supper
for four." The incident was afterward incor-
porated in "La Boheme."

It was "Manon Lescaut" — an opera first
performed here on the night of the composer's
arrival — that brought Puccini into promi-
nence. The libretto is based on the Abbe
Prevost's once famous romance, and deals
with a theme that had already tempted Auber,
Balfe and Massenet. Manon is a kind of
French "Becky Sharp," and is portrayed by
Puccini in what Mr. Dry describes as "a mov-
ing lyric drama, essentially human and com-
mon to every place, every race and all time,
since it deals with purely elemental passions."

After "Manon" came "La Boheme" and
"Tosca," the first a portrayal of the com-
poser's own Bohemian life, the second an
operatic version of Sardou's drama. These
operas brought Puccini wealth and world-
wide fame. "La Boheme" has passion, spon-

taneity, color, and "Tosca" a haunting dra-
matic intensity. In both operas Puccini may be
said to have broken away from the influences
of Verdi and Wagner, and to have displayed
creative power of the highest order.

Puccini regards "La Boheme" and his lat-
est opera, "Madam Butterfly," as his master-
pieces. "These two operas," he says, "best
express me and my temperament." It is worth
noting that "Madam Butterfly," when first
presented in Milan, was unsuccessful, but
later, in revised form, was enthusiastically
received in London. "Madam Butterfly" now
promises to become one of the most popular
of modern operas. The opera has been pre-
sented in America by three companies.

In Wakeling Dry's judgment, the reason
for Puccini's greatness and popularity lies in
his "extremely clever use of the light lyrical
style." Mr. Richard Aldrich, musical critic
of the New York Times, says:

"His style has none of the crudity and garish-
ness of Mascagni as we know it in 'Cavalleria
Rusticana.' It is more substantial, more deeply
felt than Leoncavallo's brilliant music in 'Pag-

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

SSI

liacci.' That he has a spontaneous gift of melody,
alluring, piquant, characteristic, that can upon oc-
casion touch the deeper springs of emotion, pas-
sion, foreboding, and tragedy, has been made
known in all the four operas that are familiar to
this city. His art is a growing one, as is shown
in the score of 'Madam Butterfly,' which is, in
certain ways, the ripest, as it is the most recent,
product of his genius. It is riper in its harmonic
sense, reaches greater depths of expressiveness,
and betrays a more original and independent in-
spiration than any of his preceding works. In his
command of instrumentation Puccini is also more
skilful than any of his fellows."

Mr. Henry T. Finck, of the New York
Evening Post, takes a less favorable vievv^ of
Puccini's achievement. He comments :

"Where Puccini fails is in the matter of melodic
invention. There is, of course, melody in abun-
dance; melody every moment; melody warm,
broad, effective — but it is singularly, astoundingly
lacking in individuality ; it goes into the ears as

a plate of macaroni goes into the mouth, every
stick like every other in shape and flavor. The
resulting monotony gradually gets on one's
nerves, so that the ennui is almost unbearable.
(This must not be construed as a reflection on
macaroni.) To be sure, there are thousands of
operagoers who do not know the difference be-
tween such melody and real melody (the melody
of Rossini and Verdi, for example). They are
impressed by its steady flow, its eminent singable-
ness, and when they hear it sung by a Caruso,
they are inevitably delighted and carried away, as
are congregations sometimes by the eloquent in-
flections and gestures of a preacher who has no
striking message to convey. Puccini talks a great
deal of melody, but he has very little to say.

As a result of his visit to this country Puc-
cini hopes to write an American opera to be
adapted from Belasco's "Girl of the Golden
West." He is also planning a new opera based
on Pierre Louy's audacious novel, "La
Femme et le Pantin."

THE VERITABLE HISTORY OF PETER PAN

ITHIN recent years Peter Pan has
become a very important personage.
He is really the most celebrated of
all the modern fairy-creatures, with
the possible exception of Rautendelein. While
Mr. Barrie, in the play that has become so
famous, has familiarized the public with the
present state of that delightful youngster, much
of his early history is utterly obscure. There

are two books* on record from which we may
catch glimpses of his babyhood; but even the
most diligent research in the original author-
ities has failed to disclose by what marvelous
transformation he grew up to his present
height and assumed . the wistful features of

*The Little White Bird, or Adventures in Kensing-
ton Gardens. By J. M. Barrie. Scribner's.

Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens. By J. M. Barrie.
Illustrated by Arthur Rackhani. Scribner's.

By Arthur Rackham

"AWAY HE FLEW RIGHT OVER THE HOUSES TO THE GARDENS"

552

CURRENT LITERATURE

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By Arthur Rackham

PETER

PAN WAS THE FAIRIES' ORCHESTRA

Maude Adams. It becomes the pleasant duty
of the present writer to make accessible in
scholarly manner to the general public the
veritable history of that tragic boy, half human
and half bird, compiled without regard to time
and labor from authoritative sources. His
special thanks are due to Messrs. Charles
Scribner's Sons for facilitating his difficult
task by permission to reproduce in these pages
Mr. Arthur Rackham's verisimilar sketches of
Peter Pan, in his baby days, taken from life
in Kensington Gardens. He also desires to
express his indebtedness for valuable informa-
tion to Mr. John D. Williams, personal repre-
sentative of Miss Maude Adams, who is said
to be intimately acquainted with Master Peter.
Peter Pan's earliest adventures are indis-
solubly connected with Kensington Gardens in
London. There we find "The Serpentine," a
lovely lake where the birds and old Solomon
Caw live. It is a beautiful lake, and there is
a drowned forest at the bottom of it. If you
peer over the edge, Mr. Barrie assures us> you
can see the trees all growing upside down, and
they say that at night there are also drowned
stars in it. The birds, of course, do not live
in the water, but on a little island in the Ser-
pentine. That is, they live there for a time;
eventually they all become little boys and girls.

Old Solomon Caw is at the head
of the delivery department and
extremely dislikes people to in-
terfere in his business. He
wants you to leave it all to him,
and if you mention particularly
you hope he will see his way to
making it a boy this time, he is
is almost sure to send another
girl. We have this on Mr. Bar-
rie's own authority. He also
says that whether you are a lady
or only a little boy who wants a
baby-sister, always take pains to
write your address clearly. You
can't think what a lot of babies
Solomon sent to the wrong
house.

Peter Pan, we hear, is ever so
old, but be is really always the
same age ; so that does not mat-
ter in the least. So far, we
can follow Mr. Barrie's account.
But when he tells us that Peter's
age is one week, and that he
never had a birthday, nor the
the slightest chance of having
one, we cannot but feel that the
author's chronological sense
must have deserted him. For we have seen
Peter Pan at the Empire Theater, in
York, and later in Chicago, and he
quite grown up. But we shall come to
sider that point at leisure later in our
ration. All authorities seem to agree
when he was seven days old Peter
flew away from home. This may seem
extraordinary, but we must remember that all
little boys were little birds before they were
born, and that in the first days of their human
career the power to fly is still latent within
them. In fact, he was not the only baby that
ever wanted to escape. In reality, all children
could have some such recollection if they
would press their hands to their temples. Hav-
ing been birds before they were human, they
are naturally a little wild during the first few
weeks, and very itchy at the shoulders, where
the wings used to be. Mr. Barrie indites this
fact on the indisputable authority of little
David, for whom the story of Peter Pan was
written.

Peter Pan, we are told, flew out by the win-
dow, which had no bars. Standing on a ledge,
he could see trees far away, which were doubt-
less the Kensington Gardens, and the moment
he saw them he entirely forgot that he was
now a little boy in a nightgown, and away he

New
was
con-
nar-
that
Pan
very

By Arthur Rackham

A SERIOUS CONSULTATION
Peter Pan puts his strange case before old Solomon Caw.

554

CURRENT LITERATURE

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PETER PAN'S BOAT— THE THRUSH'S NEST

flew, right over the houses to the gardens.
Thereupon he aHghted gaily on the open sward
between the Baby's palace and the Serpentine,
and the first thing he did was to lie on his
back and kick. He had already forgotten that
he had ever been human, and thought he was
a bird even in appearance. When he tried to
catch a fly he did not understand that he
missed it because he had attempted to seize it
with his hand, which, of course, a bird never
does.

Then, being thirsty, he flew over to the
Round Pond to have a drink. He stooped and
dipped his beak in the pond ; he thought it was
his beak, but, of course, it was only his nose,
and therefore very little water came up, and
that not so refreshing as usual ; so next he
tried a puddle, and he fell flop into it. Now
when a real bird falls in flop, he spreads out
his feathers and pecks them dry; but Peter
could not remember what was the thing to do.
We are following the original authority here
pretty closely, but the subject is too important
to permit the citation of any but reliable wit-
nesses. To his bewilderment, Peter discovered
that the fairies he met fled from him. He heard
the little people crying everywhere that there
was a human in the Gardens after Lockout
Time ; but he never thought for a moment that
he was the human. When finally he despaired
of the fairies, he resolved to consult the birds,
but now he remembered that all the birds he met

had flown away from him. "Poor little Peter
Pan!" exclaims the historian. "Every living
thing was shunning him, and even when he
sat down and cried he did not know that for
a bird he was sitting on his wrong part." "It is
a blessing," Mr. Barrie continues, "that he did
not know, for otherwise he would have lost
faith in his power to fly, and the moment yoxi
doubt whether you can fly you cease forever
to be able to do it." So in his despair Peter
flew to the island and put his strange case be-
fore old Solomon Caw. All the birds were
asleep excepting Solomon, who was wide
awake on one side. He listened quietly to
Peter's story and then told him the true mean-
ing. We insert here an authoritative account
of that momentous interview :

" 'Look at your nightgown, if you don't believe
me,' Solomon said, and with staring eyes Peter
looked at his nightgown, and then at the sleep-
ing birds. Not one of them wore anything. 'How
rnany of your toes are thumbs?' said Solomon a
little cruelly, and Peter saw to his consternation
that all his toes were fingers. The shock was so
great that it drove away his cold.

" 'Ruffle your feathers,' said that grim old Sol-
omon, and Peter tried most desperately hard to
ruffle his feathers, but he had none. Then he
rose up, quaking, and for the first time since he
stood on the window-ledge he remembered a lady
who had been very fond of him.

"T think I shall go back to mother,' he said
timidly.

" 'Good by,' replied Solomon Caw with a queer
look.

Photograph by Otto Sarony Company

PETER PAN GROWN UP

Baby Pan, having emigrated from the Kensington Gardens, has grown up to his present size and, by a
marvelous transformation, assumed the wistful features of Maude Adams. We have Mr. Barrie's word for it that
he will never grow older.

556

CURRENT LITERATURE

PETER PAN'S PEAN
"I'm youth, eternal youth, I'm the sun rising, I'm the poet singing, I'm a little bird that has broken out
of its egg. I'm joyl joy! joy!"

"But Peter hesitated. 'Why don't you go?" the
old one asked politely.

" 'I suppose,' said Peter huskily, 'I suppose I
can still fly?'

"You see he had lost faith.

" 'Poor little half-and-half,' said Solomon, who
was not really hard-hearted, 'you will never be
able to fly again, not even on windy days. You
must live here on the island always.'

" 'And never even go to Kensington Gardens ?'
Peter asked tragically.

"'How could you get across?' said Solomon.
He promised very kindly, however, to teach Peter
as many of the bird ways as could be learned by
one of such an awkward shape.

"'Then I shan't be exactly a human?' Peter
asked.

" 'No.'

"'Not exactly a bird?'

"'What shall I be?'

" 'You will be a Betwixt-and-Between,' Solo-
mon said, and he certainly was a wise old fel-
low, for that is exactly how it turned out."

All the birds have glad hearts, except when
one robs their nests or when they have their
tiffs with the fairies, and Peter's heart was so
glad he felt he must sing like a bird all day
long. Being partly human, he needed an in-
strument, so he made a pipe of reeds and sat on
the shore practising the sough of the wind and
the ripple of the water, and taking handfuls of
the shine of the moon. He put them all in his
pipe and played them so beautifully that even

the birds were deceived. There was only one
drop of bitterness in his cup — his inability to
fly. After many difficult exploits, he at last
succeeded in making for himself, with the help
of the birds, a little boat in which he could pad-
dle across the lake. It was here that he re-
newed his acquaintance with the fairies, with,
whom he became a great favorite. Their gene-
sis, as propounded by our learned author,
is a decided contribution to demonology.
"When," he says, "the first baby laughed for
the first time, the laugh broke into a million
pieces and they all went skipping about. That
was the beginning of fairies." But, we learn
from Peter Pan's own mouth, every time a
little child says "I don't believe in fairies,"
somewhere in the world a little fairy dies.
From the fairies he learned a good deal,
but there were many things he had to find
out for himself. He was very proud of
playing like a human little boy. This was
very pathetic, for he really did not know how
to play. Nevertheless he was very merry, and
his musical talent soon earned for him the
proud title of the fairies' orchestra. One day
it fell out that for playing so beautifully the
fairy-queen granted him the wish of his heart.
He said he wished to fly back to his mother.
When he reached his house, he found the win-

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

557

dow wide open. Peter alighted on the wooden
rail at the foot of the bed and had a good look
at her. She looked sad, and her arms moved as
if they wanted to go around something. He
patted the little mound that her feet made
gently. Certainly, he thought, it would be good
to be her boy again ; but on the other hand,
what times there had been in the Gardens ! He
had quite decided to be his mother's boy, but
hesitated about beginning just then. "It would
be splendid to tell the birds of this adventure,"
he said, and in the end he flew back to the
Gardens. He was very slow about going back
home a second time, but at last he went in a
hurry because he had dreamt that his mother
was crying. But when he arrived at the house
the window was closed. There were iron bars
on it and, peering inside, he saw his mother
sleeping peacefully with her arm around an-
other little boy. He called "Mother ! Mother !"
but she heard him not. In vain he beat his
little limbs against the iron bars. He had to
fly back sobbing to the Gardens, and never
saw his mother's face again.

The date of the occurrence cannot be deter-
mined with any degree of exactitude, but it
must have been very long ago. After this
tragic event Peter made the acquaintance of
little Maimie, the predecessor of Wendy.
"Do people know that I play games exactly
like real boys?" he asked, very proudly.
But when he revealed how he played, Maimie
replied, big-eyed : "All your ways of play-
ing are quite, quite wrong, and not in the
least like real boys play." At this poor Peter
uttered a little moan. After awhile he calmed
himself and asked her to marry him. "Oh,
Maimie," he said with eagerness, "do you know
why I love you? It is because you are like a
beautiful nest." Somehow, the biographer
tells us, this made her feel uneasy. "I think
you are speaking more like a bird than a boy
now," she said. "After all, you are only a
Betwixt-and-Between." This hurt him so
much that she at once added, "It must be a
delicious thing to be." The match came to
naught because Peter told her that, from his
own bitter experience, a mother is not always
sure to want her child back; but they parted
on friendly terms.

And here the written record of Peter Pan's
babyhood ends. When we meet him again it
is in Never-Never Land under Mr. Frohman's
management. He is the captain of a band of
Lost Boys, and is really Maude Adams. He
has once more acquired the art of flying, and
is carrying on an outrageous flirtation with
Tinker-Bell, and later with Wendy. He de-

clares that he would rather remain young and
live with the fairies in Never-Never Land than
be president. "I am youth," he cries, after his
victorious conquest of a pirate's ship, "eternal
youth. I'm the sun rising; I'm the poets sing-
ing; I'm a little bird that has broken out of the
tgg. I'm joy ! joy ! joy !" His career after this
is too well-known to need comment here. He
has outgrown his babyhood, but, like Eros and
Antinous, he will never grow up. This is what
Mr. Barrie replied to the children's question-
ings at the farewell performance of "Peter
Pan" at the Duke of York's Theater, in London.

Critical estimates of the play have varied
widely. There was a tendency at first to
regard it merely as a children's play. But
when it took audiences by storm, the recog-
nition forced itself upon the public that
"Peter Pan" was a psychological masterpiece
fraught with deep symbolic meaning. Every
man, it has been said, is at heart a Peter Pan.
And when Maude Adams proclaims the tenets
of eternal joy, we feel that the character stands
for everything that is beautiful and elusive in
human life. Peter Pan is the spirit of imme-
morial romance unfettered by convention.
When little Wendy asks him if he has nothing
sweet to ask of her mother, he hesitates awhile
whether or not he shall enter the house. There
are tears rising to his eyes. Shall he marry
Wendy, grow up and wear a derby ? But the ar-
tistic temperament, the Greek joy of living, re-
strain his hands. Wistfully he turns back,
and begins to blow his pipe. He is Pan, the
great god Pan, reincarnated. Or rather he is
Pan without the goat-foot.

Neither domesticity nor the love of a
woman can bind his indomitable soul. His
true mate is Tinker-Bell, the fairy, one of the
most striking conceptions ever put on the
stage. Mr. Barrie has taken a flash and
bell, and out of these ingredients created a
character no less alive, no less real, than
creatures of flesh and blood. When Tinker-
Bell has taken the poisoned draft that was
meant for Peter Pan, and her little light is
flickering away, her extremity touches the
springs of human emotion, and when Peter,
addressing the audience, tells them that only
faith in fairies can save her little life, a sea
of handkerchiefs invariably responds to the
appeal. Peter is only half-human and Tinker-
Bell less so, but Barrie and Miss Adams have
accomplished a unique feat : they have brought
fairydom nearer to us. "Peter Pan" is a bold
protest against the materialism of the age. In
it, Mr. Barrie restores, if only for a night,
the kingdom of Queen Mab.

Science and Discovery

THE GREATEST EXPLORER OF THIS AGE

HE past few weeks have been of ex-
ceptional interest in the history of
exploration, for the Duke of the
J Abruzzi, one of the few royal vis-
itors to our exposition at Jamestown, has been
lecturing before the Royal Geographical Society
on the scaling of the highest peaks in Africa.
"The exploit of the young Italian noble-
man," comments London Science, "comes at
the end of a long series of efforts to wrest from
the Mountains of the Moon those mysteries
which, like the clouds about their summits,
have so long enveloped the greatest mountain
range of the dark continent." The Duke told
how his expedition left Naples last year and
how he duly reached the mountain mass of
Ruwenzori, Africa's highest point. The feat
of itself, in the opinion of the Paris Cosmos,
would render the Duke "the greatest explorer
of this age" even if his previous exploits were
not "epoch making." He is just thirty-nine,
yet it is ten years since he distinguished him-
self by achieving the first ascent of Mount
St. Elias, one of the giant peaks of North
America.

His next undertaking was a carefully or-
ganized Arctic expedition. Its first objective
was the Franz Josef Land archipelago,
amidst the islands of which a passage was
forced for the ship past Dr. Nansen's winter
hut to Teplitz Bay — almost the farthest point
attained by the sledge party of the great Aus-
tro-Hungarian expedition of 1874. In the
high altitude of 81 degrees north winter quar-
ters were established and an observatory
erected — "this last piece of work affording,"
remarks London Nature, "proof of the atten-
tion bestowed by the Duke of the Abruzzi on
the scientific problems awaiting investigation
in the regions he has visited. Only Peary has
got farther north than the Duke." Few if
any explorers, it adds, after achieving dis-
tinction in the Polar regions have turned their
attention to the heart of equatorial Africa.
But three or four years ago he was heard of
as engaged in a cruise among the South Sea
islands, while towards the end of 1905 it be-
came known in geographical circles that this
scion of the Italian royal family contemplated
the conquest of the virgin heights of Ruwen-
zori. To quote The Geographical Journal:

"This great mountain, or rather mass of moun-
tains, is situated immediately north of the Equa-
tor on the borders of Uganda and the Congo tree
State. Although its peaks tower so high that in
spite of their situation in the heart of the 1 ropics
they are clad in eternal snow, it is only in com-
paratively recent years that Ruwenzori has been
discovered by Europeans. It is true that it is
commonly identified with the 'Mountains of the
Moon,' of which vague rumors had reached the
outer world in the days of Ptolemy. But the
summits of the peaks are nearly always shrouded
in mist, and even after modern explorers began
to catch glimpses of the group in the latter half
of last century it was long before Ruwenzori was
revealed in its true character. Sir Samuel Baker
only saw its lower slopes and named the group
the Blue Mountains, and Sir Harry Johnston has
recently pointed out that, incredible as it may
seem, not only Sir Samuel Baker, but Emin Pasha
and the numerous explorers who worked under
Gordon all failed to descry the snows of Ruwen-
zori. It was when Stanley reached the vicinity
of the south-west corner of the Albert Nyanza in
1887 that he obtained for the first time a sight of
the snow peak or indications of a group of snowy
peaks lying away to the southeast. Since then
Scott-Elliot, Stuhlman, Mr. J. E. Moore, Sir
Harry Johnston himself, and various other trav-
elers, have described the group, and not a few
attempts had been made to discover and ascend
the highest peak when the Duke of the Abruzzi
announced his intention of visiting the region.
The greatest height of Ruwenzori was uncertain,
and had indeed become the subject of a nice little
controversy in geographical circles. Stairs and
Stanley had suggested 17,500 feet as the maximum
figure. Stuhlman thought this too low, but Mr.
Moore was of opinion that 16,000 feet would be
nearer the mark, whereas Sir Harry Johnston
hinted that even 20,000 feet might not be an ex-
cessive estimate. Mr. Douglas Freshfield, who
was defeated in his attempt to ascend Ruwenzori
towards the end of 1905 by the unfavorable
weather conditions, forbade any hopes that the
group might prove the highest on the African
Continent, and thought that 18,000 feet was the
outside limit of its altitude. Latterly, indeed, the
tendency was to reduce the estimates, and little
surprise has been occasioned by the Duke of the
Abruzzi's calculation that the height of the loftiest
summit is not more than 16,810 feet."

At dawn of the day upon which the Duke
attained the highest point of the dark con-
tinent, he had to pass over a level glacier
broken by but few crevices. "The twin
peaks," said his Highness in the lecture be-
fore the Geographical Society, "faced us
close at hand." It was about half-past six in
the morning. Every move forward was per-
ilous to the little party, which by this time

THE ITALIAN PRINCE OF THE BLOOD AND ILLUSTRIOUS EXPLORER. WHO IS TO VISIT THE

JAMESTOWN EXPOSITION

has ye't%??e^°L?t%?/rr'Th%^ St &lStel£te?fS\if a^^cl^"? 1 .'^' ^^^^ ^xJ^ *" -»'-'> -^ -/a^"
and mysterious mountain of Africa. "•'^^ise celebrated for his ascent of tlie peaks of Ruwenzori. the wonderful

56o

CURRENT LITERATURE

had been reduced by the defection of reluc-
tant natives. To quote the Duke:

"Soon we began to feel puffs of wind from the
southeast, which rapidly increased in force, and
half way across the plateau the mist enveloped us.
We marched on, and got to the ndge which fell
from the southern and lower of the two highest
peaks. The snow was in good condition, and
alter cutting a few steps we gained the top at
7 -.2,0 A. M. In the dense mist we could not even
see the higher peak, which was only a few hun-
dred yards off. On the previous day our gtxides
had seen that there might be difficulty in climbmg
from the saddle to the higher peak on account of
Us overhanging cornice, and in the fog we could
neither reconnoiter the descent from our own
peak to the saddle nor the best means of dealing
with the cornice. We must either put off to an-
other day the ascent or decend the ridge we had
climbed, pass under the saddle, and attack the
higher peak where there was no cornice, or at-
tempt a direct passage by way of the saddle. The
guides said nothing, but they acted without words.
It would have been useless for me to suggest to
them to go back, and we resolved to take the
saddle route, reserving to ourselves the alterna-
tive and more circuitous route should the former
prove impracticable. The excellent condition of
the snow made the descent to the saddle shorter

than we had anticipated. We climbed up by a
very steep snow-slope to the cornice. We had to
evade the icicles that hung from and supported it
in order to find a means of gaining the ridge.
1 he slope was so steep that my head almost
touched the feet of the guide in front of me. In
cutting steps the guide sent down a shower of
ice on his followers, and I looked forward with
pleasure to the moment when our party would
resume its normal relations — one in front, and
not one above the other. We found at last a sort
of ice chimney six feet high, and one guide to
climb up it, had to plant his nailed boots on the
head and shoulders of the other, who served him
as a mounting block. 1 he ridge was ours, and
at the same time the top. It was ii :30. A fresh
breeze blew from the southeast ; the clouds swept
past but few yards under us, leaving clear only
the two peaks, that we had left and that on which
we were standing. And to these summits, the
only ones in view at this moment which crowned
my efforts, I gave the names of Margherita and
Alexandra, in order that, under the auspices of
the two royal ladies, the memory of two nations
may be handed down to posterity: of Italy, the
name of which resounded for the first time on
these snows in our shout of victory; and of Eng-
land, which in its marvelous colonial expansion
carries civilization even to the slopes of these re-
mote mountains."

THE AIMLESSNESS OF THE UNIVERSE IN THE LIGHT
OF ITS PHYSICAL DESTINY

HEN w^ith open mind we regard the
cosmos, asserts that eminent edu-
cator and physicist. Dr. Carl Sny-
der,* there comes inevitably a sense
of bewilderment and a perplexity that seems
hopeless. For the universe, according to him,
has no purport or moral or object that the
intelligence can discern or conjecture. "It is
in vain that we seek for evidence of any pur-
pose when we survey the heavens' and con-
template the probability that therein is an end-
less welter of dead suns, perhaps hundreds of
thousands of millions of them, incapable of
bearing life and, so far as we may perceive,
mindless and dumb." Their life is spent.
Their sole use, so far as ;We may surmise, is
simply to pursue an empty track through the
wilds of space until, in a colossal catastrophe,
they are dissipated again into the formless
nebula from which they sprang, to become
"the spawn of newer worlds."

It is vain, adds Dr. Snyder, that v/e seek
any evidence of purpose or design in the ap-
pearance of the vast and uncouth lizards of the
reptilian epoch — "the gigantic brontosaurs that
paddled about in the marshes, the fantastic

*The World Machine. By Carl Snyder. Longmans,
Green & Company.

pterodactyls that spread their darkening
wings upon the heavy and mephitic air of
that ancient time." With difficulty do we find
a purpose in the tactics of a htige shoal of
salmon entering a narrow pocket to destroy
themselves by the inrush of their own num-
bers. We fail to see the import or conseqtience
that lies in the prodigious effort of the toiling
millions of worker ants that rear a million ant
hills or of the rnyriads of coral polyps that
weave the graceful atolls of the sea.

It is equally in vain that we contemplate
the scum upon a duck pond. This scum is the
prodiicti^f life, is teeming with life. Yet the
highest intelligence fails to discover for it the
slightest utility. It is with a perplexity border-
ing upon revolt that we consider the myriads
Of insects and of bacterial swarms which
plague our human kind, breeding suffering and
disease, and serving, so far as we may see,
only to thwart the development of individuals
and hence of the race. If mere bulk or num-
bers were a measure of importance, in totality
of bulk and numbers they must vastly outclass
all the higher forms of life.

We can not recognize infinite goodness or
intelligence in the avalanche, the cyclone, the
lightning's bolt, the eruptions of Mont Pelee,

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

561

the earthquake of Lisbon, the burning
droughts of India, the famines of Ireland, the
tidal wave that flings up fifty thousand folk
like so many drowned rats upon the coasts of
Japan. We do not see the purport of an ar-
rangement which covers the fertile lands of
Europe and America with a sheet of ice once
in a hundred thousand years or so, blotting
out all life or banning it for an age.

Not less vain is our endeavor to find in the
cosmic order those qualities which we regard
as the highest and noblest among men. Na-
ture is not wise, she is not loving, she is not
economical, she is not moral. She is flaunting
in her unchastity, shameless in her impudicity.
Her prodigality is not so much reckless as it
is riotous. Plundering and murdering at
every step, she knows no justice. Fecund as
an ale-wife, she abandons her children to
every danger and to every ill, careless alike of
those who survive or fall. A religion of na-
ture is a chimera, an antithesis of terms. The
aims of nature seem as various as her phe-
nomena, and in the future the hallucinated
mind which professes to surprise her secret
will be regarded as the proper subject of the
alienist.

So far as we can perceive, the evolution of
worlds, of life and of societies, of art and the
sciences, is a pervasive phenomenon of the
universe, ceaselessly interrupted, incessantly
destroyed, ceaselessly begun again, like the
spider with its web, the beaver with its dam,
the bee with its comb, man with his works. A
little while ago it seemed as if we might per-
ceive the obscure workings of a constructive
impulse in the scheme of the world. Its limi-
tations eluding us, it seemed to promise much.
But unless our present conceptions are radi-
cally changed, the idea of unending growth
and expansion is an illusion, as if in entering
a car of some gigantic Ferris wheel, and
slowly lifted from the earth, we should believe
that we should go on rising to the utmost
reaches of the sky. The complement of evolu-
tion is devolution, and in the unfolding of
worlds from a primal nebula, their slow decay
and final resolution into nebula again, we can
at present perceive but the ceaseless turning
of a mighty wheel.

The existence of vast bodies like Canopus,
a million times or more the bulk of our sun,
seems to indicate the final congregation of the
material of the cosmos into a single inert
body. An impenetrable veil hides from us the
beginning of things. So far as we can see,
that veil will never be lifted. Equally from
our view is veiled the end. The forces with
which physical investigations deal are finite.
They are measurable and, in a way, simple.

The single exception to this — and that may be
only an apparent exception, the outcome of
our present ignorance — is gravitation. So
long as that riddle is unexplained, it is idle to
conjecture. Perhaps it would be idle still if it
were solved.

So far as we can now perceive there ap-
pears to be, in Spencerian formula, an in-
creasing aggregation of matter. If the matter
of the universe is finite and if this aggrega-
tion be pursued indefinitely, it could have but
one result: that would be final congregation
into a single mass. The universe of suns and
planets would be tumbled into a single lump.

Whatever be the larger fact, it is not im-
probable that this may be the fate of that part
of cosmos which it will ever be given to our
human kind to know. There is much in re-
cent stellar discovery to suggest such a con-
clusion to Dr. Snyder. It is obvious, for ex-
ample, he says, that if we do not mistake as
to the vast size of Canopus, we should have
here a relatively advanced stage of the process.

If the meteoric idea of the origin of suns
and planets hold aught of truth, the tendency
is towards the formation of larger and larger
bodies. Each of these would act in some
sense as centers of aggregation. It is fairly
clear that in the course of ages the earth has
grown, all of the planets have grown, the sun
itself has grown. The continuous sweeping
of these large bodies would eventually empty
space of all its minor contents.

If we prolong our vision we shall see that
amid the alternate formation of systems and
their disintegration through stellar collisions,
there would yet be a tendency towards the
accumulation of matter into ever narrower
areas. Presently this would produce one
enormous body which no collision would
shatter.

It is obvious, for example, that the collision
of our sun and Canopus would not mean a
dissipation. If the earth fell into the sun, even
at enormous speed, its mass is yet too slight
to cause the dissipation of the mass of the
sun into prim.eval nebula. In the light of our
present estimates, precisely the same thing
would be true if our sun were drawn into
Canopus. It would add something to the heat
of that star. It would add something to its
mass. Canopus would not be destroyed.

We know nothing of the motion of Canopus.
If it were careering through space at the
speed of Arcturus, it would be sweeping up
suns at a relatively tremendous rate. Whether
it be in motion or not, the result would be
much the same. We might even conceive it as
standing still, and since we know that the
stars about it are moving rapidly in every

562

CURRENT LITERATURE

direction, in the end they would one by one
approach and be drawn within its gigantic
spider's web.

We might, of course, conceive that a similar
process was at work throughout other regions,
with the resultant formation of other suns
equal in grandeur to Canopus. If two such
suns in their turn came into collision, the
result would probably mean the dissipation of
both into a primitive nebulous condition. But
there would be this difference, that whereas
the matter of which they were composed had
originally extended over vast areas, that which
would be occupied by the new nebula thus
formed would probably cover but a small ex-
tent of the former. If contraction then took
place, the resultant system would apparently
have one vast sun at its center instead of the
original pair. The process which has been

followed out by each of them would, after the
elapse of an immense period of time, be re-
sumed with double the energy — that is to say,
with double the attracting force.

So far as we can now see, there is little to
stay and nothing to limit such a process. The
end might be delayed through eons of time,
compared with which the life history of our
solar system would appear but seconds in a
seeming eternity. It could have but the result
here indicated. This central mass would dis-
sipate its heat, it would cool just as our planet
has cooled, just as the sun is cooling, just as
great Canopus will cool. If there were planets
revolving about it, a time would come when
life upon them would be impossible. The
image of the universe then .would be that of
an inert clod, mindless, helpless, motionless
and dumb.

THE CLINICAL SIGNIFICANCE OF BALZAC'S DEATH

FROM OVERWORK

[HE only scrap of what might be
called direct evidence that Balzac,
the immortal French novelist, suf-
fered from an ocular malady is in
the incidental remark of his sister that his eyes
had been far-sighted. This assertion, accord-
ing to the new volume in "Biographic Clinics,"
by Dr. George M. Gould, the eminent ophthal-
mologist, means only that Balzac did not have
myopia nor so much astigmatism as to prevent
distant vision. But in the case of the French
writer the direct evidence, says Dr. Gould, is
not needed, because the indirect evidence is so
"clear and cumulative." Balzac's symptoms.
and especially his life-history, are those of
most who consult the modern expert oculist.
"The usual immediate and permanent disap-
pearance of such symptoms in those under
forty-five years of age, by means of scientific
refraction work, is demonstrated every day in
the oculist's office." Without that, is any mod-
ern physician able to cure such patients?
Never, replies Dr. Gould, except by ordering
that the patient shall stop all writing and read-
ing.

The demonstration that Balzac's brain was
not "inflamed," "exhausted" or otherwise dis-
eased, is found in the fact that the works pro-
duced in his last years, just before his mar-
riage, free from financial worries, happy and
hopeful, show all the invention, power, objec-
tivation — all the perfections of technic, in a

word, of those of ten and fifteen years pre-
vious. What, then, had failed ? Simply ability
to see "at close range," that is, in reading and
writing, as continuously as before. The long
standing and single cause of mischief, the re-
flex of which had attacked one set of organs
after another, was simply a strain upon the
power of vision. If Balzac had not been "far-
sighted," but had, say, one diopter of simple
myopia alike in each eye, even his unhygienic
habits could not have broken him at forty-
seven and killed him at fifty.

The simple physiological reason for this is
that in all the human body there is no muscle
that can be long and continuously innervated.
That is a task Nature has been unable to carry
out, and a hundred anatomical mechanisms
illustrate this truth of physiology. Even if
Balzac had been without ametropia he would
still have had enormous eye-strain because the
ciliary muscle, although acting in a way that
might have been called normal, was put to
impossible tasks. Accommodation would al-
ways be "subnormal" under such conditions.
The ciliary muscle of the eye, that of "ac-
commodation" in the far-sighted, is required
by such work as Balzac did to be daily in a
constant state of contraction for hours, — even
at times for twenty of them*:

"Biographic Clinics. Volume IV. By George M. Gould,
M-U. P. Blakiston's Sgn ^ Company.

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

563

"The attempt at this physiological impossibility
produces the morbid results we know and which
are so capitally illustrated in Balzac's case. But,
of course, no pair of human eyes has ever been
tested in which absolute 'emmetropia' existed, and
the least ametropia would vastly increase eye-
strain in such a case as that of Balzac. Indeed,
local ocular disease preceded other lethal organic
diseases and comparative blindness preceded
death. All oculists know that between the ages
of forty and fifty eye-strain is necessarily doubled
by what is technically termed presbyopia. All
biographers deplore and wonder at Balzac's death
at fifty. Seven years before his own death, how-

ever, occurred that of another which removed the
chief obstacle to his marriage with the woman he
had so long, so purely and so fervently loved.
To this was added such an improvement in his
finances that it was possible to lessen the exorbi-
tant demand upon his eyes and mind. Despite
these things, despite comparative wealth, despite
love and travel and happiness, that his health
grew steadily worse and that he died immediately
after his marriage — these things can not be ex-
plained except upon the theory of eye-strain
which had long lessened his resisting power and
which, when reinforced bv presbyopia, finally pro-
duced the nephritis that killed him."

WAS FRANKLIN'S THEORY OF MATTER THE TRUE ONE?

5* ORE than a hundred years have
elapsed since Benjamin Franklin,
employing a phraseology now super-
seded, put forth a theory of matter.
It was pronounced "a delusion" by the phys-
icists of the nineteenth century, but the scien-
tists of the twentieth century, according to Sir
Oliver Lodge, may be forced to rehabilitate it
as the only means of issue from the labyrinth
in w^hich all physical study is now involved.
Stripped of technical verbiage and put briefly,
the Franklin theory is that electricity and mat-
ter in combination form a neutral substance,
which is the atom of matter as we know it.

The most interesting part of the problem for
ourselves, says Sir Oliver, is the explanation
of matter in terms of electricity, the view that
electricity is, as Franklin seems to have sup-
posed, the fundamental "substance." What we
men of to-day have been accustomed to regard
as an indivisible atom of matter is thus built
up out of electricity. All atoms — atoms of all
sorts of "substances" — are built up of the same
thing. In our day, to put it more clearly, the
theoretical and proximate achievement of what
philosophers from Franklin's day to ours have
always sought — a unification of matter — is of-
fering itself to physical inquiry.

But it must be remembered. Sir Oliver says,*
that altho this solution is sttongly suggested,
it is not yet a complete proof. Much more
work remains to be done before we are certain
that mass is due to electric nuclei. If it is,
then we encounter another surprising and sug-
gestive result, namely, that the spaces inside
an atom are enormous compared with the size
of the electric nuclei themselves which com-
pose it, so that an atom can be regarded as a
complicated kind of astronomical system — like

•Electrons. By Sir Oliver Lodge. George Bell & Sons.

Saturn's ring, or perhaps more like a nebula,
with no sun, but with a large number of equal
bodies possessing inertia and subject to mutual
electric attractive and repulsive forces of great
magnitude, to replace gravitation. The radia-
tion of a nebula may be due to shocks and col-
lisions somewhat like the X-radiation from
some atoms.

The disproportion between the size of an
atom and the size of an electron is vastly
greater than that between the sun and the
earth. If an electron is depicted as a speck
one-hundredth of an inch in diameter, like
one of the periods on this page, for in-
stance, the space available for the few hun-
dred or thousands of such constituent dots
to disport themselves inside an atom is com-
parable to a hundred-foot cube. In other
words, an atom on the same scale would be
represented by a church 160 feet long, 80 feet
broad and 40 feet high — in which, therefore,
the dots would be almost lost. And yet on the
electric theory of matter they are all of the
atom that there is. They "occupy" its volume
in the sense of keeping other things out, as
soldiers occupy a country. They are energetic
and forceful, tho not bulky. In their mutual
relations they constitute what we call the atom
of matter. They give it its inertia. They en-
able it to cling on to others which come within
short range, with the force we call cohesion.
By excess or defect of one or more constit-
uents they exhibit chemical properties and at-
tach themselves with vigor to others in like or
rather opposite case.

That such a hypothetical atom, composed
only of sparse dots can move through the ether
without resistance is not surprising. They
have links of attachment with each other, but,
so long as the speed is steady they have no
Knks of attachment with the ether. If they

564

CURRENT LITERATURE

disturb it at all, in steady motion, it is probably
only by the simplest irrotational class of dis-
turbance which permits of no detection by any
optical means. Nor do they tend to drag it
about. All known lines of mechanical force
reach from atom to atom. They never ter-
minate in ether, except, indeed, at an advanc-
ing wave front. At a wave front is to be
found one constituent of a mechanical pressure
of radiation whose other constituent acts on
the source. This is an interesting but essen-
tially non-statical case, and it leads away from
our subject.

As to the nature of an electron, regarded as
an ethereal phenomenon, it is too early to ex-
press an opinion. At present it is not clear
why a positive charge shQuld cling so tena-
ciously in a mass, while an outstanding nega-
tive electron should readily escape and travel
free. Nor is the nature of gravitation yet
understood. When the electron theory is com-
plete, it is hoped that the gravitative property
also will fall into line and form part of the
theory. At present it is an empirical fact,
which we observe without understanding, as
has been our predicament not only since the
days of Newton, but for centuries before, tho
we did not, before Newton, know its im-
portance in the cosmic scheme.

Attention has hitherto been concentrated
chiefly on the freely moving active negative
ingredient, the more sluggish positive charges
being at first of less interest, but the behavior
of electrons cannot be fully or properly under-
stood without a knowledge of the nature and
properties of the positive constituent too. Ac-
cording to some physicists, positive charge
must be the mirror image of negative charge.

The positive electron has not, it seems, been
as yet observed "free." Some think it cannot
exist in a free state, that it is in fact the rest
of the atom of matter from which a negative
unit charge has been removed; or, to put it
crudely, that "electricity" repels "electricity"
and "matter" repels "matter," but that elec-
tricity and matter in combination form a neu-
tral substance which is the atom, as science
at present recognizes the thing. Such a state-
ment is an extraordinary and striking return
to the views expressed by that great genius
Benjamin Franklin. On any hypothesis, those
views of his are of exceeding interest, and
show once more the kind of prophetic insight
with which great discoverers are gifted. Un-
doubtedly, concludes Sir Oliver, we are at the
present time nearer to the view of Benjamin
Franklin than men have been at any inter-
vening period between his time and ours.

PHOTOGRAPHING THE HUMAN VOICE

NCREDIBLE as it may seem, it is
none the less true, observes a writer
in the Revue ScientiUque (Paris),
that a French scientist has devised
a method for photographing the human voice.
The apparatus will soon receive such a name
as "photophone," and be offered for sale in
the shops. The plan in accordance with
which the new invention was brought to per-
fection is a registration of the number of
vibrations of the voice as it sounds notes.

For instance, it is well known to students
of music that appliances were contrived long
ago by which the number of vibrations com-
posing a certain musical note were registered
by flames of greater or less intensity. Upon
the foundation supplied by this principle, the
inventors of the machine that photographs
the voice, M. Pollak and M. Virag, had re-
solved to perfect a system of rapid telegraphy
enabling the transmission of 40,000 words
per hour. The original Morse apparatus
could transmit only 400 words per hour. The
latest, the so-called Baudot, has attained a

speed of 4,000 words per hour. But when
MM. Pollak and Virag had attained a speed
of 40,000 words per hour, they would prob-
ably have stopped at that point but for the
noted savant, Professor Morage, of the Sor-
bonne. He suggested making the invention
photograph the voice.

According to this new system of telegraphy
at high speed, 'the words are perforated on
strips of paper by an instrument something
like a typewriting machine. The paper is
passed through a special transmitter, and the
perforations determine the intervals between
the currents. These intervals are recorded
in the receiver by a small mirror which os-
cillates in accordance with the perforations
and the intervals between the currents. These
oscillations are noted by an instrument which
photographs on a strip of paper the deflec-
tions of a ray of light which the mirror re-
flects from a lamp placed in front of it. The
invention will allow a teacher of singing to tell
how a pupil progresses by making "photo-
graphs" of his voice.

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

565

A NEWLY DISCOVERED UNITY BETWEEN PLANT LIFE

AND ANIMAL LIFE

TARTLING is the discovery that a
"fundamental" distinction between
animal and vegetable structure does
not exist at all. It has been held
by all scientists until recently that each vege-
table cell unit is boxed up in a "case" of cellu-
lose. Animal cells are not so imprisoned, but
freely communicate with one another. Now
the botanist and the zoologist learn with
amazement of the continuity of the proto-
plasm through the walls of the vegetable cells
by means of connecting canals and threads.
This may seem no "startling" discovery to
those who are unfamiliar with the foundation
ideas of biology. As a matter of fact, says
Prof. Ray Lankester, this new develop-
ment is not less epoch-making than the dis-
covery of the circulation of the blood. If
man has been totally misled regarding the dis-
tinction to be drawn between animal life and
vegetable life, if the cell is essentially the same
factor in the growth of both, it follows that
the plant is a form of animal, or rather that
the animal is a moving plant.

A few words should be said at the outset,
says Professor Lankester, as to the progress
of our knowledge of cell substance and on the
subject of what was once styled the proto-
plasm question. We do not now regard pro-
toplasm as a chemical expression, but as a
structure which holds in its meshes many and
very varied chemical bodies of great com-
plexity. Within a recent period the cen-
trosome, or central body, of the cell proto-
plasm has been discovered, and a great deal

has been discovered as to the structure of the
nucleus and its remarkable stain-taking bands,
the chromosomes.*

We now know that these bands are of
definite fixed number, varying in different
species of plants and animals, and that they
are halved in number in the reproductive ele-
ments— the spermatozoid and the ovum — so
that on union of these two to form the fer-
tilized ovum (the parent cell of all the tis-
sues) the proper specific number is attained.
It has been pretty clearly ascertained that the
body of the cell alone, without the nucleus,
can do very little but move and maintain for a
time its chemical status. It is the nucleus
which directs and determines all definite
growth, movement, secretion and reproduction.
The simple protoplasm, deprived of its nu-
cleus, can not form a new nucleus, in fact can
do very little but exhibit irritability. There
are those who hold that there is no adequate
evidence of the existence of any organism at
the present time which has not both proto-
plasm and nucleus, that, in other words, the
simplest form of life now existing is a highly
complicated structure — a nucleated cell. Dr.
Lankester is inclined to assent to this view.
But that does not imply that simpler forms
of living matter have not preceded those which
we know. We must assume that something
more simple and homogeneous than the cell,
with its dififerentiated cell body or protoplasm,
and its. cell kernel or nucleus, has at one time

•The Kingdom of Man. By E. Ray Lankester. Henry
Holt & Company.

Diagrammatic representation of the structures pres-
ent in a typical cell. Note the two centrosomes, some-
±imefi single.

The continuity of the protoplasm of neighboring
vegetable cells, by means of threads which perforate
the cell-walls.

THE UNIT OF LIFE

566

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE NUMBER OF THE CHROMOSOMES
(a) Cell of the asexual generation of the cryptogam
Pellia epiphylla: the nucleus is about to divide, a polar
ray-formation is present at each end of the spindle-
shaped nucleus, the chromosomes have divided into
two horizontal groups, each of sixteen nieces: sixteen
is the number of the chromosomes of the ordinary
tissue cells of Pellia. (b) Cell of the sexual genera-
tion of the same plant in the same phase of division,
but with the reduced number of chromosomes — namely,
eight in each half of the dividing nucleus. The com-
pleted cells of the sexual generation have only eight
chromosomes, (c) Somatic or tissue-cell of Salaman-
der showing twenty-four V-shaped chromosomes, each
of which is becoming longitudinally split as a prelim-
inary to division. (d) Sperm-mother-cell from testis
of Salamander, showing the reduced number of chrom-
osomes of the sexual cells — namely, tivelve; each is
split longitudinally.

existed. But the various supposed instances
of the survival to the present day of such sim-
ple living things, as described by Haeckel and
others, have one by one yielded to improved
methods of examination and proved to be dif-
ferentiated into nuclear and extra-nuclear
substance.

Perhaps the next quest of science will be in
the direction of that common ancestor of man
and animals to which so much recent research
points. Plants may have evolved because the
parent organism did not have to seek its food.
Or it may be that man is the result of effort
on the part of a plant-like organism to propel
itself in the direction of its sustenance. The
locomotion of man and of the organisms with
which he is allied is somewhat anomalous. The
whole subject is involved in the utmost ob-
scurity.

It is therefore not surprising that quite late-
ly the notion that plants have senses has been
gaining credence among scientists. Just what
the sense organs of a plant would perform
in the way of function can only be conjectured
in the present state of our knowledge. The
sense organs, or their equivalent, are found
on the roots, stems and leaves of plants. The
fact is connected with the other startling fact
that the cell-life of the plant, like the cell-life
of the animal, proceeds along the same lines.
The revolutionary generalizations to which
this inevitably leads must impart an element of
the grotesque, not to say of the incredible, to
the biology of the immediate future.

THE BALLOONS OF SPIDERS

HE spider, like man, is a terragrade,
but, like man again, the spider es-
says to fly by repeated invasions of
the air, tho, also like man, she falls
short of directing her mimic airship, and to a
great extent drifts before the wind. "More-
over, like man," adds Dr. Henry C. McCook,
one of the most original of American students
of nature, "in rare divergence from the habits
of lower animals, the spider does these things
as she gets her food, by the aid of a manufac-
tured implement and not by direct use of her
natural locomotoria." These facts, says Dr.
McCook, give zest to our study of ballooning
spiders. "That an animal which has none of
the natural gifts of winged creatures for
progress through the air should nevertheless
be able to overcome gravity, mount aloft and
make long aerial journeys, is well suited to

excite imagination, awaken curiosity and stim-
ulate research." And if Dr. McCook's lately
issued volume* proves anything, it would seem
to be that Santos-Dumont is right in imitating
the spider, and that the late Professor Langley
erred in emulating the winged movement of
the bird.

Spider ballooning, according to Dr. Mc-
Cook, who has studied the practice carefully,
is not limited to any period of the year. But
the seasons when it most prevails are spring
and early summer and the autumn after the
young have been hatched. The fall is espe-
cially the time for the balloon trips of spiders
and October the month most favored. But in
early November the balloonists are likewise
abroad, notably during the Indian summer.

'Nature's Craftsmen.
Harper & Brothers.

By Henry Christopher McCook.

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

567

Nor is the habit confined to any one group.
It is probable that the young of all spiders and
certain that many small species of all the great
groups are more or less given to aeronautics.
The infant aranead, when aloof from its fel-
lows and exposed to a puff of air, seems in-
stinctively to throw out its spinnarets and set
forth jets of silken filament, just as a human
baby sets in motion its hand and foot. As the
jets are soon of sufficient buoyancy to counter-
balance the spider's weight, the creature be-
comes an aeronaut — and a very expert one,
too. One can see, also, how from this invol-
untary habit the habit of ballooning could have
been formed and fixed by heredity.

Let one walk in the fields on a warm day
when a soft breeze is blowing. If he will
stoop low and glance along the meadow, his
eyes will catch the sheen of myriads of fine,
silken filaments. They float from every ele-
vated spot. They fringe fence posts and
hedges. They stream like pennants from tall
weeds. They interlace the foliage of bushes
with delicate meshes or flutter like ribbons
from their tops. These are the ropes and net-
ting of ballooning spiders.

If, now, one will glance upward, he will be
apt to see long, white, sinuous filaments drift-
ing through the air, over tree-tops, across
streams, far aloft, or perhaps low enough to
be within reach. If he will grasp one of these
threads he may find in his hand a small spider ;
but not always, for many drifting filaments
are simply trial threads or loose bits of the
drag lines, which spiders are apt to throw out
as anchors when they walk. His captive will
be a ballooning spider arrested in aeronautic
flight, and the silken filament is her balloon.

The story of a baby spider's life is most in-
teresting, from its silken cocoon cradle to the
final flitting and setting-up for one's self on an
independent web. With all stages thereof the
ballooning habit has much to do. But let us
now suppose that baby life is over. The strong
foster hand of nature is on the young aranead.
urging it by the instinct of migration to seek
a home in the wide world of yonder meadow.
It is a Lycosid, a ground spider, we will say,
yet here we find it on the top of this fence post
where, with the aid of a pocket lens, one can
watch its movements. Fences are favorite 'as-
cension posts and upon them clusters of young
Lycosids are gathered. But the bushy heads
of tall weeds, the dainty, circular platform of
the wild carrot's mosaic bloom, the feathered
plumes of the goldenrod, the star-faced blos-
soms of the field daisy and the wild aster are
requisitioned for their flight by groups of bal-

loonists. The purpose in choosing these ele-
vated spots is plain, for the currents of air are
stronger there and the course clearer than
close to the surface, thus facilitating flight.
A wise volition seems clear in the case of
Lycosids, at least, which, being ground spi-
ders, are not found habitually in higher places.
We return to our post of observation, one
of the side posts of the bars that form the
gateway between two fields. These are let
down to give fair opportunity to follow the
aeronaut when it shall ascend, without the
stress and delay of getting over the fence.
With back to the sun and lens in hand, you
may see the mode of ascension. Several
younglings are atop of the post and the upper
rail near by. You fix your eye upon one. It
leaps upward and is off. No. It is back again.

STAGES OF AERIAL PROGRESS
Herein is outlined the initial phase of a spider's
normal balloon trip. It is seldom that what may be
called a false start is made. The spider rises by a
definite system of aeronautics, which it is seemingly
not taught by a fond parent, as the bird learns to fly,
but which is a natural inheritance.

568

CURRENT LITERATURE

PREPARING TO RISE
The spider balances itself on the edge of a rail fence
or of a hed^e, and displays the nicest sense of ac-
curacy in waiting for a favorable current of air.

like a boy's return ball. The buoyancy of the
thread exuded is insufficient to sustain the
creature's weight. It cannot rise aloft. Other
feints, perhaps, will follow, which soon cover
the posts and top rails with streaming trial
threads.

In the meantime you have noticed the spi-
der's attitude preceding flight. It faces the
direction of the wind. The abdomen is ele-
vated about forty-five degrees, and at the same
time the eight legs, four on either side, are
straightened out and the body thus raised
above the surface. At the apex of the abdo-
men and beneath it are the spinnarets, covered
with minute spinning-spools, through which
jets of liquid silk are forced from a multitude
of glands within the body. These harden at
contact with the air and are held apart or com-
bined at the spider's will by closing or out-
spreading the spinning mammals. Keep the
lens directed upon the spinnarets of your little
adventurer. A ray of several threads is issu-
ing which, caught by the breeze, are drawn out
and upward six, ten, even twenty or more feet.
Meanwhile the legs incline towards the breeze
and the joints stiffen. The foremost pair sink
almost to the level of the post. All the legs
and the whole attitude show the muscular

strain of an animal resisting an uplifting
force.

Suddenly and simultaneously the eight claws
are unloosened and the spider mounts with a
sharp bound into the air and floats above the
meadow at a rate more or less rapid, according
to the velocity of the wind. The threads have
been drawn out so far that their buoyancy has
overcome the specific gravity of the balloonist,
and thus she is able to keep afloat.

What is her manner of flight?

It may be a long time before the observer
shall find examples that give satisfactory an-
swer. Some are caught up into the heavens
with so sharp a rapture that they are out of
sight at once. Others scud along under so
swift a wind that they cannot be followed. But
fortune favors patience. Here at last is one
that is off before a light breeze, and is hug- •
ging the ground at about the height of a man's
face. And, there, too, goes the man, following
her across the meadow at a brisk run, hi? head
turned to one side, his eye fixed on what seems
vacancy to yonder plowman.

As the spiderling vaults upward, by a swift
motion the body is turned back downward, the
ray of floating threads is separated from the
spinnarets and grasped by the feet, which also
by deft and rapid movements weave a tiny
cradle or net of delicate lines, to which the
claws cling. At the same moment a second
filament of silk is ejected and floats out behind,
leaving the body of the little voyager balanced
on its meshy basket between that and the first
filament, which now streams up from the
front. Thus our aeronaut's balloon is com-
plete, and she sits or hangs in the middle of it,
drifting whither the wind may carry her.

She is not wholly at the mercy of the breeze,
however, for she has an ingenious mode of
bringing herself to earth. When the human
aeronaut wishes to descend he contracts his
balloon's surface and lessens its buoyancy by
letting out the gas. The spider acts upon the
same principle. She draws in the filaments
that buoy her up and give sailage surface to
the wind. Working hand over hand, as one
may say, she pulls down the long threads
which, as they are taken in, she rolls up into
a flossy white ball above her jaws.

As the floatage shortens, the aerial vessel
loses its buoyancy, and at last the spider sinks
by her own weight to the field. Thereupon
she throws out a silken rope, after the manner
of aeronauts, which anchors to the foliage, and
the young voyager abandons her basket and
begins life in her new-found site. The balloon
is also stopped by striking against some ele-

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

569

vated object. Given a steady breeze and a free
course, there is practically no limit to the dis-
tance a ballooning spider may traverse. Dr.
McCook has seen spiders ballooning at the top

of the highest church steeples, whither they
can have risen only from the ground far away.
Seafaring folk often note spider balloons
speeding by them at sea.

THE PTOMAINES OF PASSION

LACING his forearm in a jar filled
with water to the point of overflow
and keeping his position without
moving, Professor Elmer Gates, of
the Laboratory of Psychology at Washington,
directed his thinking to the arm. The blood
soon entered the arm in such quantities as to
enlarge it and cause the water in the jar to
overflow. By directing his thoughts to his
arm for a certain length of time daily for
many days, he permanently increased both its
size and strength. He even instructed others
to produce the same effect.

Professor Gates, moreover, has shown what
is called "the causative character" of thinking
in a long series of experiments. He has found
that change of the mental state changed the
chemical character of the perspiration. When
treated with the same chemical reagent, the
perspiration of an angry man showed one
color, that of a man in grief another, and so
on through the long list of emotions.

When the breath of Professor Gates' sub-
ject was passed through a tube cooled with
ice so as to condense its volatile constituents,
a colorless liquid resulted. He kept the man
breathing through the tube, but made him
angry. Five minutes afterward a sediment
appeared in the tube, indicating the presence
there of a new substance which had been pro-
duced by the changed physical action caused
by a change of the mental condition. Anger
gave a brownish substance, sorrow gray, re-
morse pink, and so on. The results showed,
as in the experiments with the perspiration,
that each kind of thinking produced its own
peculiar substance, which the system was try-
ing to expel. Professor Gates's conclusions
are very definite and are given in the volume
on right and wrong thinking, which has re-
cently been prepared by that well-known stu-
dent of mental processes, Aaron M. Crane.*
Says Professor Gates:

"Every mental activity creates a definite chemi-
cal change and a definite anatomical structure in
the animal which exercises the mental activity.

"The mind of the human organism can, by an
effort of the will properly directed, produce meas-
urable changes of the chemistry of the secretions
and excretions.

•Right and Wrong Thinking. By Aaron Martin Crane.
Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Company.

"If mind activities create chemical and anatomi-
cal changes in the cells and tissues of the animal
body, it follows that all physiological processes of
health or disease are psychologic processes, and
that the only way to inhibit, accelerate or change
these processes is to resort to methods properly
altering the psychologic or mental processes."

Having found that anger produced a brown-
ish substance which appeared in the breath,
Professor Gates continued his experiments
until he had obtained enough of that substance
to administer to men and animals. In every
case it produced nervous excitability or irri-
tability. In his experiments with thought con-
ditioned by jealousy he obtained another sub-
stance from the breath which he injected into
the veins of a guinea pig. The pig died in a
very few minutes. After concluding from his
various experiments that hate is accompanied
by the greatest expenditure of vital energy.
Professor Gates affirms that this passion pre-
cipitates several chemical products. Enough
would be eliminated in one hour of intense
hate, according to him, to cause the death of
perhaps fourscore persons, as these ptomaines
are the deadliest poison known to science.

THE EVOLUTIONS OF FLIGHT
The spider can rise and descend with the utmost
ease, owing to the lines it throws out or withdraws,
according to the exigencies of the moment.

Recent Poetry

E have had occasion more than once in

the last year or two to call attention to

the work of George Sylvester Viereck.

_______ Now we have in hand the first volume

of his poetry published in English, "Nineveh and
Other Poems" (Moffat, Yard & Company), and
were it not for the fact that Mr. Viereck's name
is on our first page as that of one of the editors
of this magazine, we might speak of the volume
in terms of enthusiasm that good taste perhaps
forbids us to use. It is not altogether a pleasing
volume. The moralists will find in it much cause
for just censure. Mr. Viereck's bent is distinctly
toward the decadent; it is death rather than life,
sin rather than righteousness, decay rather than
health that seems to inspire his Muse, and his
love for Beaudelaire, Villon, and Swinburne is at
all times obvious. Some of his verses make one
catch the breath with their audacity and unre-
straint. But the genius of the writer is never in
doubt. There is the sound of rushing torrents
rather than of trickling rivulets in these pages, and
one hears, with Herod in Wilde's "Salome," the
beating of mighty and mysterious pinions in the
air. There are many faults one might find, but
they are ever the faults of poetical excess, not of
penury, and this is not the place to point them
out. Here is one of the strongest and most repre-
sentative poems in the book:

AIANDER
By George Sylvester Viereck

The proud free glance, the thinker's mighty brow,
The curling locks and supple, slender lirnbs,
The eye that speaks dominion, victor's smile —
All these I know. By them I hail thee Man,
Lord of the earth. Thou art the woman's slave.
And yet her master . . .

I know thee when about thy sunburnt thighs
Thou swing' St the tawny skin a tiger wore
Till thy rude weapon dashed him to the ground.
I know thee also when thy shoulders bear
The purple mantle of an emperor.
Stained with the blood of thousand tiny lives;
The golden sandals clasped upon thy feet;
Thy hair made rich with spikenard, and thy brow
Graced with the gifts that mutual east and west
Conspire to offer to their sovereign lord.

T know thee, too, in lust's relentless rage,
Dragging the chosen woman to thy lair,
To frame upon her body at thy will
Sons in thine image, strong of loin as thou :
And when the bearer of thy father's sins
Within the portals of the House of Shame,
Monstrous delight thy passion seeks to find

In futile quest, and Nature pitiful

Will not transmit unto the future's womb

Thy weakened generation . . .

Image of God I know thee — God thyself.
Walking the world on India's sun-parched plains
Thy name was Rama; thou in desert sands
Of Araby didst dream thy wondrous dream;
The cradles of all races thou hast seen —
Thou Zarathustra— thou the Son of Man!
I know the wounds of hands and feet and

side . . .
Ah, and I know the ring about thy neck
Of ruddy curls! Say, Judas, in thine ear
Make they sweet music still, the silver coins,
As on the day the temple's veil was rerit? . . .

So, in the far-stretched background of all time
I watch thy progress through the sounding years —
Wielding the sceptre here, and there the lyre,
The lord or servant of thy master-passion,
Pure or polluted, fool or nobly wise.
And this it is that justifies the whole.
This is thy greatness: thou hast stumbled oft.
And straying often fallen . . . Yet all the

while,
Wandering the stony wilderness of life.
Thine eyes were fixed upon the stedfast star
That far-off stands above the Promised Land.

Rough is the road, beset by mocking heavens
And false illusory hells — the strong, the weak.
Alike by dancing fires are led astray.
And poisoned flowers bloom rankly on the path.
Self in the guise of selfishness approached,
Frailty in garment of a god benign ;
Pleasure with lying accents "I am sin"
Proclaimed, and vice "I am bold action" cried;
"I am contentment," spoke the belly full,
And the applause of groundlings, "I am fame."

And so it came that only here and there

In all the years a strong, unerring one

Plucked boldly at the flowers of delight.

Yet by the dust of tumult unconfused

Pressed on to reach the goal; the strong man's

goal :
To rule and to enjoy, to hold command
Over both things and spirits, to delight
In pleasant sounds and all sweet gifts, yet strive
Untiring, ever upward to that sun
Which no world-master's blind despotic will.
But his own hand, with more than Titan strength,
Unto the utmost firmament has flung.

One of the more passionate of Mr. Viereck's
poems is the following:

WHEN IDOLS FALL
By George Sylvester Viereck

Foul night-birds brood in fearsome throng

About the path that I must tread :
Thou art not what I thought thee long.

And oh, I would that I were dead !

RECENT POETRY

571

Less bitter was the gall they ran

To offer Christ upon the tree,
Or the salt tears He shed for man,

Deserted in Gethsemane.

For thou wert all the god I had

While months on months were born and died,
Thy lips' sweet fragrance made me glad

As holy bells at eventide.
Ay, for thy sake, my god on earth,

I joyed to suffer all I could.
And counted as of lesser worth

The chalice of the Savior's blood !

Entranced I knelt before thy shrine

And filled love's beaker, I thy priest;
With flowers as crimson as the wine

1 decked our altar for the feast.
I gave thee more than love may give.

First-fruits of song, truth, honor — all!
Too much I loved thee : I must live

To see God's awful justice fall.

I bleed beneath a wound the years

That heal all sorrow shall hot heal;
O barren waste, O fruitless tears !

I gave thee my eternal weal.
My idol crumbled in the dust

(Ah, that I lived that day to see!)
There came a sudden piercing thrust.

And all my life was dead in me!

Thou spak'st a single hideous word.

And that one word became the knoll
Of all that made life dear, and blurred

The lines of good within my soul.
Better the plague-spots ringed rne round, —

The hangman gave the fatal sign,
Than that such monstrous word should sound

From lips that once I held divine !

A veil of darkness hides the sun.

Night fell, and stars from heaven hurled.
For when this fearful thing was done,

It spelt the ruin of a world.
The string whose music won rny bays

Snapped with a blinding thrill of pain;
Through all the everlasting days

I shall not hear its note again.

Amidst the gloom I grope for song;

The fires die out that passion fed:
Thou art not what I thought thee long.

And oh! I would that I were dead!
Yet worse than all the pain of loss.

The smile that seals a traitor's will.
Is this : that knowing gold for dross.

I cannot choose but love thee still!

Just why Mr. Wilbur Underwood, being an
American, took his poetical wares to the British
market, we do not know; but there comes to us
from London his little paper-bound volume "A
Book of Masks," and it is evident that he has
a talent to be reckoned with in the future. His
Muse also is decadent, and much of what he
writes few of our magazines would dare to print.
Far the most vital thing in his book is the fol-
lowing :

A GIRL
By Wilbur Underwood

This young girl — this girl is dead;
From the light and music fled
Into darkness and still space;
Cover o'er the strange white face;
Once her laughter starred the night,
Now her laughter's taken flight.

Small her breasts were like a boy's,
Molded for all subtle joys,
Cool and flower-like her lips,
Straight and delicate her hips
Never meant for motherhood —
Sin made her and found her good.

Pretty as a butterfly
Shining 'neath a barren sky
She was blown along the earth
Light with love and song and mirth,
With a curious troubling lure
That but made her power sure.

Men were maddened by her wiles,
Recklessly she sold her smiles,
Weaving all the secret hours
In a garland of red flowers.
Eager every joy to taste,
Glad to spill her life and waste,
She was born to make men glad
And her eyes were never sad.

This young girl — this girl is dead;
Thus we found her on her bed
Where alone with night she died.
The vial fallen by her side ;
When we slipped from her the fair
Rose-silk she was wont to wear,
Underneath her laces' mesh,
Black against her ivory flesh.
Round her slender waist we found
Tight an iron chain was wound.

Sick with fright at what we saw
We stole from the room in awe.
This young girl — this girl is dead;
From the light and laughter fled;
Ladies, brutes and fellow-men
We are laughing once again,
As of old the noise and light
Stream out on the ancient night.
As of old wine-flushed and fair
We make joy with mocking air;
But through all our fevered arts
Steals a shadow on our hearts.

One finds genuine poetry not only in the great
magazines and in volumes bearing the imprint of
well-known publishers. A considerable part of
the poetry which, to us at least, seems worthy to
be reprinted from month to month comes from
booklets printed in out-of-the-way places at the
authors' expense, and in periodicals that are far
from metropolitan. Here, for instance, is a poem
which was first published in 1906 in The Phoenix,
of Muskogee, Indian Territory. It was republished
in that paper more recently with a prefatory
statement in which we are told that "there

572

CURRENT LITERATURE

is every reason to believe it will be made the
Oklahoma State poem." The author of the poem
is editor of the Free Lance, of Henryetta, I. '1.,
and he sends the poem to us with a number of
corrections.

THE LAND OF MY DREAMING
By George R. Hall

Land of the Mistletoe, smiling in splendor
Out from the borderland, mystic and old,

Sweet are the memories, precious and tender
Linked with thy summers of azure and gold.

O Oklahoma ! fair land of my dreaming.
Land of the lover, the loved and the lost.

Cherish thy legends with tragedy teeming-
Legends where love reckoned not of the cost.

Land of Sequoyah, my heart's in thy keeping,

O Tulledega ! how can I forget !
Calm as thy vales where the silences sleeping

Wake into melody tinged with regret!

Let the deep chorus of life's music throbbing
Swell to full harmony born of the years.

Or for the loved and lost tenderly sobbing
Drop to that cadence that whispers of tears !

Land of the Mistletoe, here's to thy glory.
Here's to thy daughters as fair as the dawn !

Here's to thy pioneer sons in whose story
Valor and love shall live endlessly on!

Another editor whose hand has cunning in the
building of rhyme is Meredith Nicholson. In his
latest novel, "The Port of Missing Men," he has
a poem by way of foreword :

THE SHINING ROAD
By Meredith Nicholson

Come, sweetheart, let us ride away beyond the

city's bound.
And seek what pleasant lands across the distant

hills are found.
There is a golden light that shines beyond the

verge of dawn.
And there are happy highways leading on and

always on;
So, sweetheart, let us mount and ride with never

a backward glance,
To find the pleasant shelter of the Valley of

Romance.

Before us, down the golden road, floats dust from
charging steeds.

Where two adventurous companies clash loud in
mighty deeds;

And from the tower that stands alert like some
tall, beckoning pine.

E'en now, my heart, I see afar the lights of wel-
come shine !

So loose the rein and cheer the steed and let us
race away

To seek the lands that lie beyond the Borders of
To-day.

Draw rein and rest a moment here in this cool

vale of peace;
The race half run, the goal half won, half won

the sure release !
To right and left are flowery fields, and brooks go

singing down
To mock the sober folk who still are prisoned in

the town.
Now to the trail again, dear heart; my arm and

blade are true,
And on some plain ere night descend 111 break

a lance for you!

O sweetheart, it is good to find the pathway shin-
ing clear !

The road is broad, the hope is sure, and you are
near and dear !

So loose the rein and cheer the steed and let us
race away

To seek the lands that lie beyond the Borders of
To-day.

Oh, we shall hear at last, my heart, a cheering
welcome cried

As o'er a clattering drawbridge through the Gate
of Dreams we ride !

Henry van Dyke does too many things well,
perhaps, to do anything superlatively well. His
poetry has usually seemed to us the least success-
ful of his endeavors. It lacks the touch of
finality. The following, which we take from
Scribner's, is not a great poem, but it is a beauti-
ful and effective tribute to one of the truest poets
that ever blew breath into reed.

LONGFELLOW
By Henry van Dyke

In a great land, a new land, a land full of labor

and riches and confusion.
Where there were many running to and fro, and

shouting, and striving together.
In the midst of the hurry and the troubled noise,

I heard the voice of one singing.

"What are you doing there, O man, singing
quietly amid all this tumult?

This is the time for new inventions, mighty shout-
ings, and blowings of the trumpet."

But he answered, "I am only shepherding my
sheep with music."

So he went along his chosen way, keeping his

little flock around him;
And he paused to listen, now and then, beside the

antique fountains.
Where the faces of forgotten gods were refreshed

with musically falling waters ;

Or he sat for a while at the blacksmith's door, and
heard the cling-clang of the anvils ;

Or he rested beneath old steeples full of bells,
that showered their chimes upon him ;

Or he walked along the edges of the sea, drinking
in the long roar of the billows;

Or he sunned himself in the pine-scented ship-
yard, amid the tattoo of the mallets ;

Or he leaned on the rail of the bridge, letting his
thoughts flow with the whispering river ;

He barkened also to ancient tales, and made them
young again with his singing.

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573

Then I saw the faces of men and women and
children silently turning toward him ;

The youth setting out on the journey of life, and
the old man waiting beside the last mile-
stone ;

The toiler sweating beneath his load; and the
happy mother rocking her cradle;

The lonely sailor on far-off seas; and the gray-
minded scholar in his book-room;

The mill-hand bound to a clacking machine; and
the hunter in the forest;

And the solitary soul hiding friendless in the
wilderness of the city;

Many human faces, full of care and longing, were

drawn irresistibly toward him,
By the charm of something known to every heart,

yet very strange and lovely,
And at the sound of that singing wonderfully all

their faces were lightened.

"Why do you listen, O you people, to this old and

world-worn music?
This is not for you, in the splendor of a new age,

in the democratic triumph !
Listen to the clashing cymbals, the big drums, the

brazen trumpets of your poets."

But the people made no answer, following in their

hearts the simpler music :
For it seemed to them, noise-weary, nothing could

be better worth the hearing
Than the melodies which brought sweet order into

life's confusion.

So the shepherd sang his way along, until he came

unto a mountain :
And I know not surely whether it was called

Parnassus,
But he climbed it out of sight, and still I heard

the voice of one singing.

The quiet, contemplative poetry of Charles G.
D. Roberts always has in -it a solacing quality
that composes the mind and stills the heart, and
proves anew that there can be real poetry that is
not born of the passions and appetites. This in
evidence from The Craftsman:

O EARTH, SUFFICING ALL OUR NEEDS
By Charles G. D. Roberts

O earth, sufficing all our needs, O you
With room for body and for spirit too.

How patient while your children vex their souls
Devising alien heavens beyond your blue.

Dear dwelling of the immortal and unseen.
How obstinate in my blindness have I been.

Not comprehending what your tender calls.
Veiled promises and reassurance mean !

Not far and cold the way that they have gone,
Who thro' your sundering darkness have with-
drawn.

Almost within our hand-reach they remain
Who pass beyond the sequence of the dawn.

Not far and strange the heavens, but very near,
Your children's hearts unknowingly hold dear.

At times we almost catch the door swung wide —
An unforgotten voice almost we hear!

I am the heir of heaven — and you are just.

You, you alone I know, and you I trust.
Tho I seek God beyond the furthest star,

Here shall I find Him, in your deathless dust.

Mr. F. W. Bourdillon has done a favor to the
English-speaking world by translating De Mus-
set's "L'Espoir en Dieu." The measure Mr. Bour-
dillon employs is that of "In Memoriam," and the
theme of both poems is much the same, — the con-
flict of doubt and faith. It may surprise some to
find in De Musset so much of the deep religious
longing and striving that we associate with the
Anglo-Saxon rather than with the French poets.
But we must remember that Taine, who certainly
knew the poets of both countries, while he rated
Tennyson very high, rated De Musset still higher.
Bourdillon's translation fills nine pages of the
(London) Monthly Review. We can reprint but
an extract of two :

THE HOPE

By Alfred De Musset. Translated by F. W.

Bourdillon.

I having youth yet in my blood.

Being yet the fool of dreams, would hold
What Epicurus taught of old.

That sober-minded demi-god;

Would live and love, would learn men's ways.
Some pleasure seek, not trust thereto,
Be what I am, do as men do,

And look on Heaven with tranquil gaze.

I would, but cannot. Ah, how dream

Without a hope, without a fear?

Infinity so close and clear
Can Reason see, nor ask the scheme?

This world — what is it? Man — why there,
A conscience cowering from the skies?
To walk, as beasts, with earthward eyes,

.And say. Naught is but Now and Here :

This count you happiness? Not I!

This soul, chance-summoned from the deep.

Is seed of woman : laugh or weep,
Human I live and human die.

Thou whom none knoweth, yet they lie
Who say Thou art not, speak with me!
I am because Thou bidst me be.

And when Thou bidst me, I must die.

Much of Thyself Thou showest us;

Yet such a darkness hides Thy face,

Faith stumbles in the holy place.
Alas, why tempt Thy creature thus?

He lifts his head : the heavens to him

A Lord Omnipotent reveal ;

The earth, that lieth 'neath his heel.
Is all a temple, vast and dim.

574

CURRENT LITERATURE

Something that in his bosom reigns,
This too he thinks is Thee : his woes,
His agonies, his love, he knows,

A greater than himself ordains.

And this hath been, since earth began,
Of noble souls the noblest aim,
To prove Thou art, and Thy hid name

To spell in letters of a man.

Diverse the names men know Thee by,
As Brahma, Jesus, Jupiter,
Truth, Justice; yet I dare aver

To Thee all hands are stretched on high.

To Thee the meanest wretch will raise.
For but the promise of relief
In the murk midnight of his grief.

An unpremeditated praise.

Thee all Creation magnifies;
There sings no bird but doth adore.
Nor falls one rain-drop but therefor

A million benedictions rise.

All Thou hast made we find to be
Lovely and wonderful and good;
And at Thy smile the whole earth would

Fall at Thy feet and worship Thee.

Then wherefore, with all power to bless.
Hast Thou created strength so vast
Of evil, to let shrink aghast

Reason alike and Righteousness?

While all earth's voices thus declare
The great divinity of things,
Attesting surely that all springs

From an Almighty Father's care;

How is it that so oft a deed
Is done beneath yon holy sky
So foul that even prayer will die

Struck dumb upon the lips of need?

Why discord in so sweet a strain?

Is plague Thy servant? Crime Thy will?

And Death — dear God, why reigneth still
This other king in Thy domain?

Was not a great compassion Thine
When, weeping, out of chaos rose,
With all its joys and all its woes,

A world so sad and so divine?

Yet if it pleased Thee, Lord, to cast
Upon man's neck a yoke so stern,
Why give him eyesight, to discern

Thy presence in the cloudy Vast?

Man had not murmured, doomed to crawl,
Had no diviner dream been sent.
We perish of our discontent.

Oh, show us naught, or show us all!

If to approach Thy dwelling-place
The thing Thou madest is too mean,
The veil of Nature should have been

More closely wov'n before Thy face.

Thine had been still the thunderclaps;

The bolts had fall'n on us the same ;

But misery, unheard Thy name,
Had slept a dreamless sleep perhaps.

If prayer may never reach to Thee,
O King of Glory, close the door
On Thy lone splendor ! Evermore

From mortals hide Eternity!

But if an ear to earth inclined
Be yonder, and to grief awake;
If the Eternal Country take

Heed of the moaning of mankind;

Oh, rend the Heaven ! Break up the height.
The depth, between Thy works and Thee !
Tear off the veil, that Earth may see

The Fount of good, the Judge of right!

Mrs. Wilcox writes an earnest plea for a shift-
ing of emphasis from the Christ crucified to the
Christ living and triumphant — to what the new
theologians call "the immanent Christ." We quote
from The Delineator:

THE RADIANT CHRIST

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Arise, O master artist of the age,

And paint the picture which at once shall be

Immortal art and blessed prophecy,

The bruised vision of the world assuage;

To earth's dark book add one illumined page

So scintillant with truth that all who see

Shall break from superstition, and stand free.

Now let this wondrous work Thy hand engage.

The mortal sorrow of the Nazarene

Too long has been faith's symbol and its sign,

Too long a dying Savior has sufficed.

Give us the glowing emblems which shall mean

Mankind awakened to the self divine —

The living presence of the radiant Christ.

Too long the crucifix on Calvary's height
Has cast its shadow on the human heart.
Let now religion's great co-worker, art.
Limn on the background of departing night
The shining face, all palpitant with light,
And God's true message to the world impart.
Go tell each toiler in the home and mart,
"Lo, Christ is with ye, if ye seek aright!"

The world forgets the vital word Christ taught,
• The only word the world has need to know,
The answer to creation's problem — love.
The world remembers what the Christ forgot —
His cross of anguish and His death of wo.
Release the martyr, and the cross remove.

For, "now the former things have passed awav,
And man forgetting that which lies behind,
And ever pressing forward, seeks to find
The prize of His high calling." Send a ray
From art's bright sun to fortify the day
And blaze the trail to every mortal mind;
The new religion lies in being kind ;
Faith works for men where once it knelt to pray.

Faith knows but hope where once it knew despair.
Faith counts its gain where once it reckoned loss.
Ascendmg paths its patient feet have trod,
Man looks within and finds salvation there.
Release the suffering Savior from the cross
And give the waiting world its radiant God !

Recent Fiction and the Critics

FRIDAY
THE I3TH

dreadful.

N the opinion of its publishers and of
its author, Mr. Thomas W. Lawson's
first venture in the field of the novel*
seems to be "the epic of the market-
place," combining evidence of an "extraordinary
literary and dramatic talent with an intimate
knowledge of high finance." The
Chicago Evening Post expresses
itself less charitably. "Friday the
13th," it says "is a gorgeous penny-
The reddest of ink courses in its
veins." Lawson's words, continues the same
critic, "flow like a mill-race in that exuberant
combination of Marie Corelli and snappy adver-
tisement that has made him famous. There is no
genteel restraint, no false propriety about Mr.
Lawson, of Boston. His favorite instrument is
the calliope." The Boston Transcript, on the
other hand, suggests that it is doubtless all "a
huge joke offered to the public in order to prove
that the author can outdo the sensational novelist
in his most violent mood." It also proves, in the
opinion of the Boston newspaper, that Mr. Law-
son possesses in fiction the same command of the
English language as in his magazine diatribes.

The plot of the story is outlined by The Even-
ing Post (New York) with customary delicate
raillery. "We have here," it says, "all the familiar
stage setting of Wall Street, painted in garish
splotches ; gigantic stock deals, frightful panics,
tickers, and tapes spinning out quotations a mile
a minute, the usual seething mobs on the Stock
Exchange, and all the 'System's' hell-hounds let
loose, chapter after chapter." "There is," it goes
on to say, "a heart-throb on every page." To
quote further :

"We ache with sympathy for the proud, old ex-
governor of Virginia, who has lost in unwise
speculation several million dollars of trust funds ;
we yearn to look into the fathomless eyes of his
virtuous daughter, who, to retrieve her father's
fortune and good name, persuades the hero to
help her play the stock market, and prays the
Lord to bless their operations ; we shudder when
the aforesaid hero, taking the 'long' instead of the
'short' side of Sugar, loses his first two million
dollars. And of course we cannot but exult when,
money-mad as he is, the hero turns the table on
the System's cohorts and cleans up a cool billion
of dollars; and on the last page we are very close
to tears at the death of both the chief personages
— of that beautiful daughter of Virginia, endowed
with eyes of 'spirituality and passion,' and with a
singular gift for stock-gambling, and of the
superb hero, Rob, the picture of whom rises be-

•Friday the Thirteenth. By Thomas W. Lawson.
Doubleday, Page & Company.

fore us as he stood in the thick of his last panic — ■
'his perfect-fitting, heavy black Melton cutaway
coat thrown back from the chest, and a low,
turned-down white collar, the setting for a throat
and head that reminded one of a forest monarch
at bay on the mountain crag awaiting the coming
of the hounds and hunters.' "

The most extraordinary chapter in the book is
the one based on Mr. Lawson's belief that all that
is necessary to win countless millions is to be
perfectly unscrupulous, absolutely dead to any
feeling of humanity, and then to go on the floor
of the Stock Exchange and sell, and sell, and
keep on selling until all opposition is broken and
the market tumbles to a point at which stock may
be bought back at a tremendous profit. This, at
least, is the method by which Bob Brownley, the
hero of the book, acquires a fortune and inciden-
tally teaches a strong lesson to Wall Street gamb-
lers. The Bookman informs us, however, that
such a plan, unquestionably entertaining in fiction,
has been tried in real life by a number of desper-
ate men with results disastrous to themselves. It
remarks further:

"In theory it looks sound, but in practice there
always enters the personal equation. For exam-
ple, let us say that Robinson, in moderate circum-
stances,^ enters the Exchange with the intention of
'bulling' the market on an immense scale, and re-
gardless of consequences. 'Jones,' he cries, 'buy
me a thousand XYZ at 68. Smith, bid me in five
th9usand XYZ at 70.' Jones and Smith are sur-
prised, but perhaps comply, but when Robinson
continues to raise the amount and price of his
orders they become suspicious; they have been
caught before, and will probably edge away with
the excuse that they are wanted on the 'phone or
have a very important engagement with a man
over at Eberlin's. Mr. Lawson's method may be
all right, but we should be reluctant to recom-
mend it as infallible. In fiction the reverse side
of the story was shown several years ago in Mr.
Edwin Lefevre's 'Pike's Peak or Bust.' "

Another critic gently asks why Mr. Lawson has
not tried the trick himself and cleared a billion or
so in the manner of his hero, instead of advertis-
ing half-developed copper mines in expensive
organs of publication.

The Times Saturday Review describes the
novel as "a nightmare of love and stock gamb-
ling, wherein the 'System' shakes its gory locks
and brandishes a handful of blood-stained razors,
stalking the while prodigious over the necks of its
prostrate victims." The Atlanta News observes
that if "Friday the 13th" had been offered to any
first-class publishing house without the "frenzied"
name of "Tom Lawson, of Boston," there would
have been in each case a pink slip of regret and

576

CURRENT LITERATURE

return postage with no undue waste of time or
words. It admits, however, that as a leader of
dime-novels, "Friday the 13th" is a "winner."
The Washington Star strikes the keynote of the
situation. Mr. Lawson, it says, slips from
frenzied finance to frenzied fiction as easily as he
transforms himself in the stock market from a
bull into a bear. "There is," it goes on to say,
"no essential difference between his two per-
formances as a revealer of the System's secrets
save that his long and supposedly veracious his-
tory of the financial deals of the past few years
had much more human interest than his novel."
Fiction is a poor medium for the propagandist of
Mr. Lawson's type, and while the novel will
doubtlessly prove a "seller," it is not likely, from
present outlook, to receive half the serious atten-
tion given to the author's previous revelations.

In a recent issue we quoted extracts from an
essay by Professor Matthews on the unorigi-
nality of great minds. Shakespeare,
BEFORE we were told, somewhat sluggishly
ADAM avoided needless invention, and
when anyone had done a popular
thing, the Swan of Avon was pretty sure to imi-
tate him and to do it better. "But," added the
writer, "if the greatest poets are often unoriginal,
they are nevertheless imaginative in the highest
degree." In default of "the lesser invention" they
have "the. larger imagination." Without desiring
to classify Mr. Jack London with the greatest
minds, it must be admitted that he possesses ex-
traordinary imaginative powers. It must, how-
ever, also be admitted that the plots of this gifted
writer are at times unoriginal, and that charges
of plagiarism have lately been brought against him
with surprising frequency. His latest book* is
said to be a brazen adaptation of Mr. Stanley
Waterloo's prehistoric romance, ''The Story of
Ab," published ten years before Mr. London's
and admittedly read by the latter.

Mr. London's book is extremely well written.
Its grip is firm and its workmanship sure. The
critics have been strongly divided in their ac-
counts of its merits. "A labored product of in-
ventiveness, rather than a felicitous work of the
imagination," says The Independent, while the
New York Times affirms that "the vitality and
realism of the story beget a fascination which ulti-
mately reaches conviction." "An interesting story,"
cries one critic; "London is tedious," yawns an-
other. The Boston Budget deplores the lack of
human interest. "The story," it says, "is decidedly
anthropoid." The Boston Transcript, on the other
hand, concludes that, entertaining as a story; the

•Before Adam. By Jack London. The Macmillan Com-
pany.

book is at the same time a deep study of the dual
personality of man and offers a problem to the
scientist as well as a romance to the reader. This
problem is the manner in which the primeval ex-
periences of the fictitious author are revealed in
strange atavistic dreams. Though born and
reared in the city, he has dreamed of forests, caves,
and all the terrible creatures of the wilderness.
His dreams have been vivid and repeated, but
incoherent. It is only after he reaches his ma-
turity that, in the phraseology of the New
York Saturday Review of Books, he has come
to comprehend "the significance of those nightly
horrors, to interpret them as inherent reversions
of the long-buried past, to classify them and ar-
range them in intelligible progression." To quote
further:

"The author, or rather the creature in whose
existence the author recollects his own former
life, is naturally the hero of the book. In the
dreams the creatures had no names, for they lived
in the era when the nearest approach to language
was some score of broken calls and sounds ; but in
the narrative, for the sake of convenience, they
have all been christened. The hero is Big-Tooth,
his bosom friend and comrade is Lop-Ear, his
obnoxious step-father is the Chatterer, the
female with whom he finally mates is the Swift-
One, and the giant arch-fiend of the tribe is Red-
Eye. These characters, together with Big-Tooth's
mother and sister, are the leading dramatis per-
sonae of the entire history.

"His first remembrance of himself is as an in-
fant in a nest in the trees, and his first adventure
comes when, left on the ground, his mother
rescues him from a wild boar, and, with him
clinging tightly to her hairy chest, swings again
high up into the branches. His mother is 'old
fashioned' and remains in the trees, but most of
the members of the tribe live in the caves,
whither he goes when driven from home by the
tyranny of the Chatterer. The tribe is superior
to the Tree-People, the apes, but inferior to the
terrible Fire-People, the barbaric race of elemental
men who have discovered fire and the use of bows
and arrows. Lop-Ear and Big-Tooth make a
long journey, full of adventures. The Fire-Peo-
ple drive the tribe from their caves and those who
are not slain wander again into the forests. Fi-
nally Big-Tooth and the Swift-One settle and rear
a family in an unknown land."

Not even Mr. London has denied the close re-
semblance between his story and its predecessor.
The Chicago Tribune applies the "deadly parallel"
to Mr. London's book and declares that the idea
and features are boldly copied from Mr. Water-
loo's work :

"In the opening chapter of each novel the baby
hero is discovered in his tree nest. In each book
the most fearful enemy of the wild folk is Sabre-
Tooth, the tiger. In one book Lop-Ear figures as
a friend of the hero. In the other book One-Ear
does so. In Waterloo's book the beloved of the
hero is Lightfoot. In London's book the chosen
woman of the hero is the Swift-One. Both heroes

LAZARUS— A STORY BY ANDREIEFF

577

have trouble with the fire people. Both visit the
fire people's country. Both have similar adven-
tures, and both make inventions. London's peo-
ple are much more primitive than Waterloo's.
Waterloo's have almost arrived at tribal condi-
tions. London's are still plaintive, scarcely voca-
ble beings, miserably individualistic, and almost
without reflection — the stones of Deucalion, into
which life has but just been breathed. Water-
loo's folk have gone among the human road quite
a way.

"Neither book is distinguished by extraordinary
scholarship — at least, J. H. Rosny of France, those
brothers and collaborators who write upon similar
subjects, would not think so. London's book has
better machinery and shows the experienced hand,
but it is a perfunctory piece of work beside
Waterloo's, and instead of being a long treasured
and cherished dream, is a brisk piece of literary
hack work. It is also a dishonest piece of work,
because he has taken the idea of another man and
made it his own."

Lazarus — A Story by AndreiefF

We print this story not because it is terrible,
greatness of it seem to us equally obvious. One
have the Scriptural sitory of the raising of Lazarus
formed into something terrifying and repulsive,
stands next to Gorky as a leading representative
Lazarus is his latest masterpiece. It has never
into English.

I
HEN Lazarus came out of the grave,
after three days and nights in the
mysterious thraldom of death, and re-
turned alive to his home, no one
ncrticed in him for a long time the evil peculiari-
ties which later were to make his very name ter-
rible. His friends and kindred were jubilant with
radiant joy because of his return to life. They
surrounded him with tenderness, and lavished
eager attentions upon his food and drink and
upon the preparation of new garments for him.
They clad him gorgeously in ithe glowing colors of
hope and laughter, and when, arrayed like a
bridegroom, he again sat among them at the
table, and again ate, and again drank, they wept
fondly and called in the neighbors to look upon
the miraculously resurrected one.

The neighbors came and were moved with joy.
Strangers arrived from distant cities and villages,
and with stormy exclamations, like so many bees
buzzing around the house of Mary and Martha,
they worshiped the miracle.

All that was new in the face of Lazarus and in
his motions they explained naturally as the traces
of his severe illness and the shock through which he
had passed. It was evident that the disintegration
of the corpse had been halted by a miraculous
power, and not totally effaced ; and that death had
left upon the face and body of Lazarus an effect
resembling an artist's unfinished sketch, seen
through a thin glass. On the temples of Lazarus,
under his eyes and in the hollow of his cheeks, lay
a thick, earthy blue; his fingers were blue, too,
and on his nails, which had grown long in the
grave, the blue had turned to livid. Here and
there on his lips and body, the skin, blistered in

but because it is great. The terror of it and the
who dares the reading of it should be prepared to
robbed of all that may be pleasurable and trans-
The author, Leonidas Andreieff, is a Russian and
of modern Russian liiterature. This story of
before, so far as we are aware, been translated

the grave, had burst open and left reddish glisten-
ing cracks, as if covered with a thin, glassy slime.
And he had grown exceedingly stout. His body
had swollen in the grave and still kept its mon-
strous proportions, horribly inflated in a way that
reminded one of the fetid and damp smell of
putrefaction behind it. But the cadaverous, heavy
odor which clung to the burial garments of Laza-
rus, and, as it seemed, to his very body, soon dis-
a.ppeared completely, and after some time the blue
of his hands and face softened, and the reddish
cracks of his skin smoothed out, tho they never
disappeared completely. Such was the aspect of
Lazarus in his second life. It looked natural only
to those who had seen him buried.

Not merely the face, but the very character of
Lazarus, it seemed, had changed; but this aston-
ished no one and did not attract the attention it
deserved. Until his death Lazarus had been cheer-
ful and careless, a lover of laughter and harmless
jest. It was because of his good-humor, pleasant
and equable, and devoid of malice and darkness,
that he had been so beloved by the Master. Now
he was grave and silent; he neither jested him-
self nor laughed at the jests of others; and the
occasional words which he uttered were simple,
ordinary and necessary words, — words as much
devoid of sense and depth as are the sounds with
which an animal expresses pain and pleasure,
thirst and hunger. Such words a man may utter
all his hfe without any one ever knowing anything
of the aches and joys that penetrate his being.

Thus it was that Lazarus sat at the festive
table among his friends and kindred — his face that
of a corpse over which death had reigned in dark-
ness three days, his garments gorgeous and fes-
tive, glittering with yellow gold, bloody-red and

578

CURRENT LITERATURE

purple ; his mien heavy and silent. He was horri-
bly changed and strange, but as yet undiscovered.
In deep waves — now tender, now stormily ring-
ing—the festivities went on around him. Warm
glances of love caressed his face, still cold with
the touch of the grave ; and a friend's warm hand
patted his bluish, heavy hand. And the music
played. Musicians had been summoned and were
playing joyfully the tympan and the pipe, the
zither and the dulcimer. It was as if bees were
humming, locusts were buzzing, birds were sing-
ing over the happy home of Mary and Martha.

Some reckless one lifted the veil. By one
breath of an uttered word he destroyed the
serene charm and uncovered the truth in its ugly
nakedness. No thought was clearly defined in his
mind, when his lips smilingly asked: "Why dost
thou not tell us, Lazarus, what was There ?" And
all became silent, struck with the question. Seem-
ingly it occurred to them only now that for three
days Lazarus had been dead; and they looked
with curiosity, awaiting an answer. But Lazarus
remained silent.

"Thou wilt not tell us, then?" wondered the in-
quirer. "Is it so terrible There?"

Again his thought lagged behind his words.
Had it preceded them, he would not have asked
the question, for, at the same moment, his heart
sank within him with intolerable fear. And all
became restless ; already they awaited with
anguish the words of Lazarus. But he was silent,
cold and severe, and his eyes were cast down.
And now, as if for the first time, they perceived
the horrible bluishness of his face and the loath-
some corpulence of his body. On the table, as if
forgotten by Lazarus, lay his livid blue hand, and
all eyes were riveted upon it, as if they expected
it to give the desired answer. And the musicians
still played; but now silence fell upon them, tt>o,
and the gay sounds were deadened, as scattered
coals are extinguished by water. The pipe be-
came mute, and also the ringing tympan and the
murmuring dulcimer; and as tho a chord were
broken, as tho song itself were dying, the zither
echoed a trembling broken sound. Then all was still.

"Thou wilt not?" repeated the inquirer, unable
to restrain his talkative tongue. Silence reigned,
and the livid blue hand lay motionless. And now
it moved slightly and the company sighed with
relief and raised their eyes. The resurrected
Lazarus was looking straight among them, em-
bracing all with one glance, heavy and terri-
ble. . . .

This was on the third day after Lazarus had
come from the grave. Since then many had felt
that his gaze was the gaze of destruction, but

neither those who had been forever crushed by
it, nor those who in the prime of life (mysterious
even as death), had found the will to resist his
glance, could ever explain the terror that lay
immovable in the depths of his black pupils. He
looked quiet and simple. One felt that he had no
intention of hiding anything, but also no intention
of telling anything. He looked even cold, like one
who is entirely indifferent to all that is alive. And
many careless people who jostled around him, and
did not notice him, later learned with wonder and
fear the name of this stout, quiet man -who
brushed against them with the ends of his sump-
tuous and gaudy garments. The sun did not stop
shining when he looked, neither did the fountain
cease playing, and just as cloudlessly-blue re-
mained the native sky ; but the. man who fell un-
der his inscrutable gaze could no longer feel the
sun, neither could he hear the fountain nor recog-
nize the native sky. Sometimes such a one cried
bitterly, sometimes in despair he tore the hair
from his head and madly called to others for help ;
but for the most part, it happened that the men
who were stricken by the gaze of Lazarus began
to die listlessly and quietly, and died slowly for
many long years ; died in the presence of every-
body; died colorless, withered and gloomy, like
trees quietly fading on rocky ground. And the
first who screamed in madness came sometimes
back to life; but the others, never. . . .

"So thou wouldst not tell us, Lazarus, what you
saw There?" for the third time repeated the in-
quirer. But now his voice was quiet and dull,
and a dead, gray weariness stupidly looked out
through his eyes. The faces of all present were cov-
ered, as by a mist, by the same dead gray weari-
ness; and with dull astonishment the guests
stared at one another, at a loss to understand why
they had come together and why they sat around
this rich table. They stopped talking. Vaguely
they thought that probably it was time to leave;
but they could not overcome the languor and
sluggish lassitude which crept through their mus-
cles, and so they continued to sit, each one isolated,
like little dim lights, scattered in the darkness of
night.

The musicians were paid to play, and they
again took up the instruments, and again poured
forth gay or mournful sounds. But it was music
made to order. They always used the same har-
monies and the guests listened wonderingly. They
did not know why this music was necessarj'. They
could not imagine why it was necessary and what
good it did for people to pull at strings and blow
their cheeks into thin pipes, and produce varied
and strange-sounding noises.

"How badly they play!" said someone.

The musicians were insulted and left. Then the

LAZARUS— A STORY BY ANDREIEFF

579

guests departed one by one, for night was at hand.
And when they were enveloped by the quiet dark-
ness, and it became easier to breathe, suddenly
before each one arose the image of Lazarus in
stern splendor. There he stood, with the blue
face of a corpse and the raiment of a bridegroom,
sumptuous and resplendent; and in his eyes that
cold stare in whose depths immovably rested The
Horrible! They stood at different points as if
turned into stone. The darkness surrounded them,
and in the midst of this darkness flamed up the
horrible apparition, the supernatural vision, of
the one who for three days had lain under the
unfathomable power of death. Three days he was
dead. Thrice rose and set the sun — and he was
dead. The children played, the water murmured
as it streamed over the rocks, the hot dust rose
over the highway — and he was dead. And now
he was again among men — touched them — looked
at them — looked at them! And through the black
rings of his pupils, as through dark glasses, the
unfathomable There gazed upon humanity.

Ill

No one took care of Lazarus, and no friends or
kindred remained with him. Only the great desert,
enfolding the Holy City, came close to the thresh-
old of his abode. It entered into his home, and
lay down on his couch like a spouse, and put out
all the fires. No one cared for Lazarus. One
after the other went away, even his sisters Mary
and Martha. For a long while Martha did not
want to leave him, for she knew not who would
nurse him or take care of him ; and she cried and
prayed. But one night, when the wind was roam-
ing about the desert, and the rustling cypress-trees
were bending over the roof, she dressed herself
quietly and quietly went away. Lazarus probably
heard how the door was slammed — it had not
shut properly and the wind kept knocking it con-
tinually against the post — but he did not rise, did
not go out, did not try to find out the reason.
And the whole night until the morning the cypress
trees hissed over his head, and the door swung
to and fro, allowing the cold, greedily prowling
desert to enter his dwelling. Everybody shunned
him as tho he had been a leper. They wanted to
put a bell on his neck to avoid meeting him. But
someone, turning pale, remarked that it would be
terrible if at night, under the windows, one should
happen to hear Lazarus' bell, and all grew pale
and assented.

And as he did nothing for himself, he would
probably have starved had not his neighbors, in
trepidation, saved some food for him. Children
brought it to him. They did not fear him, neither
did they laugh at him, as, with innocent cruelty,
children often laugh at unfortunate beings. They

were indifferent to him, and Lazarus evinced the
same indifference toward them. There was no
desire on his part to thank them for their services ;
he did not wish to pat the black little heads and
look into the simple shining little eyes. Given
over to the ravages of time and the desert, his
house was falling to ruins, and long since his
hungry, bleating goats had been scattered among
his neighbors. His wedding garments had grown
old. Just as he put them on that happy day when
the musicians played, he wore them still, without
changing them. He did not see the difference
between old and new, between torn and whole.
The brilliant colors were burnt and faded; wicked
city dogs and sharp thorns of the desert had rent
the fine clothes to shreds.

During the day, when the sun mercilessly beat
down all living things, and even the scorpions hid
under the stones and were convulsed with a mad
desire to sting, he sat motionless under its burn-
ing rays, lifting high his blue face and shaggy
wild beard.

While yet the people were unafraid to speak to
him, some one asked him one day: "Poor Lazar-
us ! Do you find it pleasant to sit so, and look
at the sun?" And he answered: "Yes, it is
pleasant."

The thought suggested itself to people that the
cold of the three days in the grave had been so
intense, its darkness so deep, that there was not,
in all the earth, either heat or light that could
warm Lazarus and lighten the gloom of his eyes ;
and inquirers turned away with a sigh.

And when the setting sun, flat and purple-red,
descended to earth, Lazarus went into the desert
and walked straight toward it, as tho intending
to reach it. Always he walked directly toward
the sun, and those who tried to follow him and
find out what he did at night in the desert had
indelibly imprinted upon their minds' vision the
black silhouette of a tall, stout man against the
red background of an immense disk. The hor-
rors of the night drove them away, and so they
never found out what Lazarus did in the desert ;
but the image of the black form against the red
was burned forever into their brains. Like an
animal with a cinder in its eye which furiously
rubs its muzzle against its paws, they foolishly
rubbed their eyes ; but the impression left by
Lazarus was ineffaceable, and forgotten only in
death.

There were people living far away who never
saw Lazarus and only heard of him. With an
audacious curiosity which is stronger than fear
and feeds on fear, with a secret sneer in their
hearts, some of them came to him one day as he
basked in the sun, and entered into conversation
with him. At that time his appearance had

58o

CURRENT LITERATURE

changed for the better and was not so frightful;
and at first the visitors snapped their fingers and
thought disapprovingly of the foolish inhabitants
of the Holy City. But when the short talk came
to an end and they went home, their appearance
was such that the inhabitants of the Holy City
at once knew their errand and said: "Here go
some more madmen at whom Lazarus has looked."
The speakers raised their hands in silent pity.

Other visitors came, among them brave war-
riors in clinking armor, who knew not fear, and
happy youths who made merry with laughter and
song. Busy merchants, jingling their coins, ran in
for awhile, and proud attendants at the Temple
placed their staffs at the door of Lazarus. But
no one returned the same as he came. A fright-
ful shadow fell upon their souls, and gave a new
appearance to the old familiar world.

Those who felt any desire to speak, after they
had been stricken by the gaze of Lazarus, de-
scribed the change that had come over them in
some such terms as these:

All objects seen by the eye and palpable to the
hand became empty, light and transparent, as the
they were light shadows in the darkness ; and this
darkness enveloped the whole universe. It was
dispelled neither by the sun, nor by the moon, nor
by the stars, but embraced the earth like a mother,
and clothed it in a boundless black veil.

Into all bodies it penetrated, even into iron and
stone; and the particles of the body lost their
union and became lonely. Even to the heart of
the particles it penetrated, and the particles of the
particles became lonely.

The vast emptiness which surrounds the uni-
verse, was not tilled with things seen, with sun or
moon or stars; it stretched boundless, penetrating
everywhere, disuniting everything, body from
body, particle from particle.

In emptiness the trees spread their roots, them-
selves empty; in emptiness rose phantom temples,
palaces and houses — all empty; and in the empti-
ness moved restless Man, himself empty and
light, like a shadoiu.

There was no more a sense of time; the begin-
ning of all things and their end merged into one.
In the very moment when a building was being
erected and one could hear the builders striking
with their hammers, one seemed already to see its
ruins, and then emptiness where the ruins were.
A man was just born, and funeral candles were
already lighted at his head, and then were extin-
guished; and soon there was emptiness where be-
fore had been the man and the candles.

And surrounded by Darkness and Empty Waste
Man trembled hopelessly before the dread af The
Infinite.

So spoke those who had a desire to speak. But
much more could probably have been told by those
who did not want to talk, and who died in silence.

At that time there lived in Rome a celebrated
sculptor known by the name of Aurelius. Out of
clay, marble and bronze he created forms of gods
and men of such beauty that it was proclaimed
immortal. But he himself was not satisfied, and
said that there was a supreme beauty that he had
never succeeded in expressing in marble or
bronze. "I have not yet gathered the radiance of
the moon," said he; "I have not yet caught the
glare of the sun. There is no soul in my marble,
there is no life in my beautiful bronze." And
when by moonlight he would slowly wander along
the roads, crossing the black shadows of the
cypress-trees, flashing his white tunic in the
moonlight, those he met used to laugh good-
naturedly and say: "Is it moonlight that you are
gathering, Aurelius? Why did you not bring some
baskets along?"

And he, too, would laugh and, pointing to his
eyes, would say : "Here are the baskets in which
I gather the light of the moon and the radiance of
the sun."

And this was the truth. In his eyes shone
moon and sun, but he could not transmit the
radiance to marble. Therein lay the greatest
tragedy of his life. He was a descendant of an
ancient race of patricians, had a good wife and
children, and, except in this one respect, lacked
nothing.

When the dark rumor about Lazarus reached
him, he consulted his wife and friends and de-
cided to make the long voyage to Judea, in order
that he might look upon the miraculously resur-
rected one. He felt lonely in those days and
hoped on the way to renew his jaded energies.
What they told him about "the resurrected one"
did not frighten him. He had meditated much
upon death. He did not like it, nor did he like
those who tried to harmonize it with life. On
this side, beautiful life; on the other, mysterious
death, he reasoned, and no better lot could befall
a man than to live — to enjoy life and the beauty
of living. And he already had conceived a desire
to convince Lazarus of the truth of this view and
to return his soul to life even as his body had been
returned. This task did not appear impossible,
for the reports about the resurrected one, fearsome
and strange as they were, did not tell the whole
truth about him, but only carried a vague warning
against something awful. . . .

Lazarus was rising from a stone, to follow in
the path of the setting sun, on the evening when
the rich Roman, accompanied by an armed slave,

LAZARUS— A STORY BY ANDREIEFF

581

approached him, and in a ringing voice called to
him : "Lazarus !"

Lazarus saw a proud and beautiful face, made
radiant by fame, and white garments and precious
jewels shining in the sunlight. The ruddy rays of
the sun lent to the head and face a likeness to
dimly shining bronze — and that was what Lazarus
saw. Obediently he sank back to his seat, and
wearily he lowered his eyes.

"It is true thou art not beautiful, my poor
Lazarus," said the Roman quietly, playing
with his gold chain. "Thou art even frightful, my
poor friend ; and death was not lazy the day when
thou so carelessly fell into its arms. But thou art
as fat as a barrel, and 'Fat people are not bad,'
quoth the great Caesar. I do not understand why
people are so afraid of thee. Thou wilt permit
me to stay with thee over night? It is already
late, and I have no abode."

Nobody had ever asked permission to pass a
night with Lazarus.

"I have no bed," said he.

"I am somewhat of a warrior and can sleep
sitting," replied the Roman. "We shall light a
fire."

"I have no fire."

"So in the darkness, even as two friends, will
we hold our conversation. I suppose thou hast
some wine here?"

"I have no wine."

The Roman laughed,

"Now I understand why thou art so gloomy and
why thou dost not like thy second life. Thou
hast no wine ! Well ; we shall do without. Thou
knowest there are words that go to one's head
even as Falernian does!"

With a motion of his head he dismissed the
slave, and they were alone. And again the sculp-
tor spoke, but it seemed as tho the sinking sun had
penetrated into his words. They faded pale and
empty, as if trembling on weak feet, as if slipping
and falling, drunk with the wine of anguish and
despair. And black chasms appeared between
the two men — like remote hints of vast emptiness
and vast darkness.

"Now I am thy guest and thou wilt not illtreat
me, Lazarus !" said the Roman. "Hospitality is
binding even upon those who have been three
days dead. Three days, I am told, thou wert in
the grave. It must have been cold there . . .
and from there thou hast brought this bad habit
of doing without fire and wine. And I like fire.
It gets dark so quickly here. Thy eyebrows and
forehead have an interesting line: even as the
ruins of castles covered with the ashes of an
earthquake. But why art thou in such strange
and ugly clothes? I have seen the bridegrooms
of thy country and they wear such clothes — such

ridiculous clothes — such awful garments. . . .
But art thou a bridegroom?"

Already the sun had disappeared. A gigantic
black shadow was approaching fast from the west,
as if gigantic bare feet were rustling over the
sand; and the chill breezes stole up behind them.

"In the darkness thou appearest even bigger,
Lazarus; thou lookest as if thou hadst grown
stouter in these few minutes. Dost thou feed on
darkness, perchance? . . . And I would like
some fire . . . even a small fire . . . even
a small fire. And I am cold; you have here such
barbarous cold nights. . . . If it were not so
dark, I would say thou art looking at me, Lazarus.
Yes, it seems, thou art looking. Thou art looking.
Thou art looking at me! . . . I feel it — now
thou art smiling."

The night had come and a heavy blackness filled
the air.

"How good it will be when the sun rises again
to-morrow. . . . Thou knowest that I am a
great sculptor — so my friends call me. I create,
yes, they say I create, but for that daylight is
necessary. I give life to cold marble. I melt in the
fire the ringing bronze, in a bright, hot fire. Why
hast thou touched me with thy hand?"

"Come," said Lazarus, "thou art my guest."
And they went into the house. And the shadows
of the long evening fell on the earth. . . .

The slave at last grew tired waiting for his
master, and when the sun stood high he came to
the house. And he saw, directly under its burning
rays, Lazarus and his master sitting close to-
gether. They looked straight up and were silent.

The slave wept and cried aloud : "Master, what
ails thee? Master!"

The same day Aurelius left for Rome. The
whole way he was thoughtful and silent, atten-
tively examining everything, the people, the ship
and the sea, as though endeavoring to recall some-
thing. On the sea a great storm overtook them,
and all the while Aurelius remained on the deck
and gazed eagerly at the approaching and falling
waves. When he reached home his family were
shocked at the terrible change in his demeanor,
but he calmed them with the words : "I have
found it!"

In the dusty clothes which he had worn during
the entire journey and had not changed, he began
his work, and the marble ringingly responded to
the resounding blows of the hammer. Long and
eagerly he worked, admitting no one; and at last
one morning he announced that the work was
ready, and gave instructions that all his friends,
and the severe critics and judges of art, be called
together. Then he donned gorgeous, brilliant fes-
tive garments, shining with yellow gold, glowing
with the purple of the byssin.

582

CURRENT LITERATURE

"Here "is what I have created," he said thought-
fully.

His friends looked, and immediately the shadow
of deep sorrow covered their faces. It was a
thing monstrous, possessing none of the forms
familiar to the eye, yet not void of a hint of some
new unknown form. On a thin tortuous little
branch, or rather an ugly likeness of one, lay
crooked, strange, unsightly, shapeless heaps of
something turned outside in, or something turned
inside out — wild fragments which seemed to be
feebly trying to get away from themselves. And,
accidentally, under one of the wild projections,
they noticed a wonderfully sculptured butterfly,
with transparent wings, trembling as tho with a
weak longing to fly.

"Why that wonderful butterfly, Aurelius?"
timidly asked some one.

"I do not know," answered the sculptor.

But the truth had to be told, and one of his
friends, the one who loved Aurelius best, said:
"This is ugly, my poor friend. It must be de-
stroyed. Give me the hammer." And with two
blows he destroyed the monstrous mass, leaving
only the wonderfully sculptured butterfly.

After that Aurelius created nothing. With ab-
solute indifference he looked at marble and at
bronze and at his own divine creations, in which
dwelt immortal beauty. In the hope of breathing
into him once again the old flame of inspiration,
with the idea of awakening his dead soul, his
friends led him to see the beautiful creations of
others, but he remained indifferent and no smile
warmed his closed lips. And only after they
spoke to him much and long of beauty, he would
reply wearily :

"But all this is— a lie."

And in the daytime, when the sun was shining,
he would go into his rich and beautifully laid out
garden, and, finding a place where there was no
shadow, would expose his bare head and his dull
eyes to the glitter and burning heat of the sun.
Red and white butterflies fluttered around; down
into the marble cistern ran splashing water from
the crooked mouth of a blissfully drunken Satyr;
but he sat motionless, like a pale shadow of that
other one who, in a far land, at the very gates of
the stony desert, sat also motionless under the
fiery sun.

And it came about finally that Lazarus was
summoned to Rome by the great Augustus.

They dressed him gorgeously in festive bridal
garments as though it had been ordained that he
was to remain a bridegroom to an unknown bride
until the very day of his death. It was as if an
old coffin, rotten and falling apart, were regfilded

over and over, and gay tassels hung on it And
solemnly they conducted him in gala attire,
as tho in truth it were a bridal procession,
the runners loudly sounding the trumpet that
the way be made for the ambassadors of the
Emperor. But the roads along which he
passed were deserted. His entire native land
cursed the execrable name of Lazarus, the won-
derfully resurrected, and the people scattered at
the mere report of his horrible approach. The
trumpeters blew lonely blasts, and only the desert
answered with a dying echo.

Then they carried him across the sea on the
saddest and most gorgeous ship that was ever
mirrored in the azure waves of the Mediterra-
nean. There were many people aboard, but she
was silent and still like a coffin, and the water
seemed to moan as it parted before the short
curved prow. Lazarus sat lonely, baring his head
to the sun, and listening in silence to the splash-
ing of the waters. Further away the seamen and
the ambassadors gathered like a crowd of dis-
tressed shadows. If a thunderstorm had happened
to burst upon them at that time or the wind had
overwhelmed the red sails, the ship would prob-
ably have perished, for none of those who were on
her had strength or desire enough to fight for
life. With supreme effort some went to the side
of the ship and eagerly gazed at the blue, trans-
parent abyss. Perhaps they imagined they saw a
naiad flashing a pink shoulder through the
waves, or an insanely joyous and drunken centaur
galloping by, splashing up the water from his
hoofs. But the sea was deserted and mute, and
so was the watery abyss.

Listlessly Lazarus set foot on the streets of the
Eternal City — as tho all its riches, all the majesty
of its gigantic edifices, all the luster and beauty
and music of refined life, were simply the echo of
the wind in the desert, or the misty images of hot
running sand. Chariots whirled by ; the crowd of
strong, beautiful, haughty men passed on, builders
of the Eternal City, and proud partakers of its
life; songs rang out; fountains laughed; pearly
laughter of women filled the air, while the
drunkard philosophized and the sober ones smil-
ingly listened; horseshoes rattled on the pave-
ment. And surrounded on all sides by glad
sounds, a fat, heavy man moved through the center
of the city like a cold spot of silence, sowing in
his path grief, anger and vague, carking distress.
Who dared to be sad in Rome? indigfnantly de-
manded frowning citizens; and in two days the
swift-tongued Rome knew of Lazarus, the won-
derfully resurrected, and timidly evaded him.

There were many brave men ready to try their
strength, and at their senseless call Lazarus came
obediently. The Emperor was so engrossed with

LAZARUS— A STORY BY ANDREIEFF

583

state affairs that he delayed receiving the visitor,
and for seven days Lazarus moved among the
people.

A jovial drunkard met him with a smile on his
red lips. "Drink, Lazarus, drink!" he cried.
"Would not Augustus laugh to see you drunk 1"
And naked besotted women laughed, and decked
the blue hands of Lazarus with rose-leaves. But
the drunkard looked into the eyes of Lazarus —
and his joy forever ended. Thereafter he was
always drunk. He drank no more, but was drunk
all the time, and shadowed by fearful dreams, in-
stead of the joyous reveries that wine gives.
Fearful dreams became the food of his broken
spirit. Fearful dreams held him day and night
in the mists of monstrous fantasy, and death it-
self was no more fearful than the apparition of its
tierce precursor.

Lazarus came to a youth and his lass who loved
each other and were beautiful in their love.
Proudly and strongly holding in his arms his be-
loved one, the youth said, with gentle pity : "Look
at us, Lazarus, and rejoice with us. Is there any-
thing stronger than love?"

And Lazarus looked at them. And their whole
life they continued to love one another, but their
love became mournful and gloomy, even as those
cypress-trees over the tombs that feed their roots
on the putrescence of the grave, and strive in vain
in the quiet evening hour to touch the sky with
their pointed tops. Hurled by fathomless life-
forces into each other's arms, they mingled their
kisses with tears, their joy with pain, and only
succeeded in realizing the more vividly a sense of
their slavery to the silent Nothing. Forever
united, forever parted, they flashed like sparks,
and like sparks went out in boundless darkness.

Lazarus came to a proud sage, and the sage said
to him : "I know already all the horrors that
you may tell me, Lazarus. With what else can
you terrify me?"

Only a few moments passed before the sage
realized that the knowledge of the horrible is not
the horrible, and that the sight of death is not
death. And he felt that in the eyes of the Infinite
wisdom and folly are the same, for the Infinite
knows them not. And the boundaries between
knowledge and ignorance, between truth and
falsehood, between top and bottom, faded and his
shapeless thought was suspended in emptiness.
Thenhe grasped his gray head in his hands and cried
out insanely : "I cannot think ! I cannot think !"

Thus it was that under the cool gaze of Lazarus,
the wonderfully resurrected, all that serves to
affirm life, its sense and its joys, perished. And
people began to say that it was dangerous to allow
him to see the Emperor; that it were better to kill
him and bury him secretly, and say that he had
disappeared. Swords were sharpened and youths
devoted to the welfare of the people announced
their readiness to become assassins, when Augus-
tus upset the cruel plans by demanding that
Lazarus come to him.

Even tho Lazarus could not be kept away, it
was felt that the heavy impression conveyed by
his face might be somewhat softened. With that
end in view expert painters, barbers and artists
were assembled and worked the whole night on
Lazarus' head. His beard was trimmed and
curled and given a neat appearance. The disa-
greeable and deadly bluishness of his hands and
face was covered up with paint; his hands were
whitened, his cheeks rouged. The disgusting

wrinkles of suffering that ridged his old fact were
patched up and painted, and on the smooth sur-
face, wrinkles of good nature and laughter, and
of pleasant, good-humored cheeriness, were laid
on with fine brushes, artistically.

Lazarus submitted himself indifferently to all
they did with him, and soon was transformed into
a naturally stout, nice-looking old man, who might
have been the quiet and §ood-humored grand-
father of numerous grandchildren. He looked as
tho the smile with which he told funny stories
had not left his lips, as tho there was yet hidden
in the corner of his eyes a quiet tenderness. But
the wedding-dress they did not dare to take off;
and his eyes they could not change — the dark,
terrible eyes through which the incomprehensible
There looked out upon humanity.

Lazarus was quite unaffected by the magnifi-
cence of the imperial apartments. He was as
stolidly indifferent as tho he saw no contrast be-
tween his ruined house on the verge of the desert
and the solid, beautiful palace of stone. Under
his feet the hard marble of the floor seemed to
take on the likeness of the moving sands of the
desert, and in his eyes the multitude of gaily ap-
pareled and haughty men was as unreal as the
emptiness of the air under his gaze. They looked
not into his face, as he passed by, fearing to come
under the awful bane of his eyes; but when the
sound of his heavy steps announced that he had
passed, heads were lifted and eyes examined with
timid curiosity the figure of the corpulent, tall,
slightly stoopiu"' old man, as he slowly disappeared
into the heart of the imperial palace. If death itself
had appeared, men would not have feared it as
much ; for until now death had been known to the
dead only and life to the living only, and between
these two there had been no bridge. But this
strange being knew death, and this knowledge of
his was felt to be mysterious and cursed. "He
will kill our great, divine Augustus," men cried
with horror, and they hurled curses after him.
He slowly and stolidly passed them by, penetrat-
ing ever deeper into the palace.

Caesar knew already who Lazarus was, and was
prepared to meet him. He was a courageous
man ; he felt that his power was invincible, and in
the fateful encounter with the "wonderfully resur-
rected," he refused to lean on other men's weak
help. Man against man, face to face, he met
Lazarus.

"Do not fix thy gaze on me, Lazarus," he com-
manded. "I have heard that thy head is like the
head of Medusa, and turns into stone all at whom
thou lookest. But I should like to have a close
look at thee, and to talk with thee before I turn
into stone," he added in a spirit of playfulness that
served to conceal his real misgivings.

Approaching him, he examined closely the face
of Lazarus and his strange festive clothes. And
he was deceived by the skilful counterfeit, tho
his eves were sharp and keen.

"Well, thy appearance is not terrible, venerable
sir. But all the worse for man. when the terrible
takes on such a venerable and pleasant appear-
ance. Now let us talk."

Augustus sat down, and as much bv glance as by
words began the discussion. "Why didst thou not
salute me when thou entered?"

Lazarus answered indifferently: "I did not
know it was necessary."

584

CURRENT LITERATURE

"Thou art a Christian?"

"No."

Augustus nodded approvingly. "That is good.
I do not like the Christians. They shake the tree
of life, forbidding it to bear fruit, and they scatter
to the wind its fragrant blossoms. But who art
thou?"

With some effort Lazarus answered: "I was
dead."

"I heard about that. But who art thou now?"

Lazarus' answer came slowly, and at last he
repeated stolidly and dimly: "I was dead."

"Listen to me, stranger," said the Emperor dis-
tinctly and severely, affirming now what had been
in his mind before. "My empire is an empire of
the living ; my people is a people of the living and
not of the dead. Thou art superfluous here. I
do not know who thou art, I do not know what
thou sawest there, but if thou liest, I hate thy lies,
and if thou tellest the truth, I hate thy truth. In
my heart I feel the pulse of life; in my hands I
feel power, and my proud thoughts, like eagles,
fly through space. Behind my back, under
the protection of my authority, under the shadow
of laws created by me, men live and labor and
rejoice. Hearest thou this divine harmony of life?
Hearest thou the war call that men hurl into
the face of the future, challenging it to the strug-
gle?"

Augustus extended his arms reverently and
solemnly cried out: "Blessed be thou, Great
Divine Life!"

But Lazarus was silent, and the Emperor con-
tinued with greater severity: "Thou art not
wanted here. Pitiful remnant, half devoured of
death, thou inspirest men with distress and aver-
sion to life. Like a caterpillar on the fields, thou
gnawest away at the full seed of joy and exudest
the slime of despair and sorrow. Thy truth is
like unto a rusted sword in the hands of a night
assassin, and I shall condemn thee to death as
an assassin. But first I want to look into thine
eyes. Possibly only cowards fear them, and brave
men are awakened by them to struggle and
victory. Then wilt thou be worthy not of death
but of a reward. Look at me, Lazarus."

In the first moment it seemed to divine Augus-
tus as if a friend were looking at him, so soft, so
attractive, so gently fascinating was the gaze of
Lazarus. It promised not horror but quiet rest,
and the Infinite appeared there as a fond mis-
tress, a compassionate sister, a mother. And ever
stronger grew its gentle embrace, until he felt, as
it were, the breath of a mouth hungry for kisses.
. . . Then it seemed as if iron bones protruded
ravenously, and closed upon him in an iron band ;
and cold nails touched his heart and slowly sank
into it.

"It pains me," said divine Augustus, growing
pale; but look, Lazarus, look!" ....

Ponderous gates, shut through eternity, appeared
to be slowly swinging open, and through the grow-
ing aperture poured in, coldly and calmly, the
awful horror of the Infinite. Boundless Empti-
ness and Boundless Gloom entered like two
shadows, extinguishing the sun, removing the
ground from under the feet and the coyer from
over the head. And the pain in his icy heart
ceased.

"Look at me, look at me, Lazarus !" commanded
Augustus, staggering. . . . ^

Time ceased and the beginning of things came
perilously near to the end. The throne of Augus-

tus, so recently erected, fell to pieces, and empti-
ness took the place of the throne and of Augustus.
Rome fell silently into ruins. A new city rose in
its place, and it too was erased by emptiness.
Like phantom giants, cities, kingdoms, and coun-
tries swiftly fell and disappeared into emptiness —
swallowed up in the black maw of the Infinite. . .

"Cease," commanded the Emperor. Already an
accent of indifference sounded in his voice. His
arms hung powerless, and his eagle eyes flashed
and were dimmed again, struggling against over-
whelming darkness.

"You have killed me, Lazarus" he said drowsily.

And these words of despair saved him. He
thought of the people, whose shield he was
destined to be, and a sharp, redeeming pang
pierced his dull heart. He thought of them with
anguish, doomed to perish. First they seemed
bright shadows in the gloom of the Infinite — how
terrible! Then they appeared as brittle vessels
with life-agitated blood, and hearts that knew both
sorrow and great joy — and he thought of them
with tenderness.

And so thinking and feeling, inclining the scales
now to the side of life, now to the side of death,
he slowly returned to life, to find in its suffering
and joy a refuge from the gloom, emptiness and
fear of the Infinite.

"No; thou didst not kill me, Lazarus," said he
firmly. "But I will kill thee. Go !"

Evening came and divine Augustus partook of
food and drink with great joy. But there were
moments when his raised arm would remain sus-
pended in the air, and the light of his shining,
eagle eyes was dimmed. It seemed as if an icy
wave of horror washed against his feet. He was
vanquished but not killed, and coldly awaited his
doom, like a black shadow. His nights were
haunted by horror, but the bright days still
brought him the joys, as well as the sorrows, of
life.

Next day, by order of the Emperor, they
burned out Lazarus' eyes with hot irons and sent
him home. Even Augustus dared not kill him.
*****

Lazarus returned to the desert and the desert
received him with the breath of the hissing wind
and the ardor of the glowing sun. Again he sat
on the stone with matted beard uplifted; and two
black holes, where the burned-out eyes once had
been, looked dull and horrible at the sky. In the
distance the Holy City moved and roared rest-
lessly, but near him all was deserted and still.
No one approached the place where Lazarus, the
miraculously resurrected, passed his last days, for
his neighbors had long since abandoned their
homes. His cursed knowledge, driven by the hot
irons back from his eyes deep into the brain, lay
there in ambush ; as if from ambush it might
spring out upon men with a thousand unseen eyes.
No one dared to look at Lazarus.

And in the evening, when the sun, swollen crim-
son and growing larger, bent its way toward the
west, blind Lazarus slowly groped after it. He
stumbled against stones and fell ; corpulent and
feeble, he rose heavily and walked on ; and against
the red curtain of sunset his dark form and out-
stretched arms gave him a monstrous resemblance
to a cross.

It happened once that he went and never re-
turned. Thus ended the second life of Lazarus,
who was three days in the mysterious thraldom
of death and then was miraculously resurrected.

Humor of Life

A SAILOR'S ADVICE

As Admiral Bunce was coming out of the
Boston Navy Yard one day he encountered a
sailor very much the worse from liquor.

The Admiral, being in citizen's dress, was not
recognized by the sailor, who endeavored to em-
brace him affectionately.

"Sir," said the indignant officer, "do you know
that I am an admiral?"
The sailor pulled himself together, made a
drunken salute, and
said : "So you are an
admiral, are you ? Well,
you've got a blame'
good job, and my ad-
vice to you is to keep
sober and hang onto
it." — F. G. Blakeslee,
in Lippincott's.

LEARNING

The new cook was
helping her mistress to
prepare dinner. All
went well until the
macaroni was brought
out. The cook looked
with surprise as she
beheld the long white
sticks. But when they
were carefully placed
in water she gave a
choking gasp.

"Did you say, mis-
sus," she said in an
awed voice, "that you
were going to eat
that?"

"Yes, Jane," was the
reply, "that is what I
But you seem surprised. Have
you never seen macaroni cooked before?"

"No, ma'am," answered the cook, "I ain't. The
last place I was at they always used them things
to light the gas with." — Harper's Magazine.

SUBMISSION

The New Member: "I
suppose you never thought
I'd be elected to the legis-
lature, did you, 'Rastus?"

The Waiter: "No, sah;
but de Lawd's
done." — Judge.

intended to do.

will be

IT LOOKED THAT WAY

"Is Mike Clancy here?" asked the visitor at
the quarry, just after the premature explosion.

"No, sot," replied Costigan; "he's gone."

"For good?"

"Well, sor, he wint in that direction." — Ladies'
Home Journal.

AN ADDITION TO THE CATECHISM

An enterprising superintendent was engaged
one Sunday in catechizing the Sunday-school pu-
pils, varying the usual meth> d by beginning at
the end of the catechism.

After asking what were the prerequisites for
the Holy Communion and confirmation, and re-
ceiving satisfactory replies, he asked :

"And now, boys, tell me what must precede
baptism ?"

A lively urchin shouted out: "A baby, sir!" —
Ladies' Home Journal.

A SURE TURN

"I see be the sarmon this marnin' that Lot's
wife looked back and turned into a pillar of salt."

"It may be, but wid me own eyes I see Dennis
McGovern's wife look back and turn into a
saloon." — Karl von Kraft, in Lippincott's.

COALS OF FIRE?

Police Officer Keegan : "Mister Rafferty, Oi
love your daughter, an' would most respectfully
ask you for her hand in marriage."

Mr. Rafferty : "Arrah, ye shnake. One year
ago to-day ye arrested me for droonkenness, an'
clubbed me all the way to the station house. Now
Oi hev my opportunity to git aven. Ye can hev
her." — Exchange.

WHAT'S IN A NAME?

"Mother," said a college student who had
brought his chum home for the holidays, "permit
me to present my friend, Mr. Specknoodle."

His mother, who was a little hard of hearing,
placed her hand to her ear.

"I'm sorry, George, but I didn't quite catch
your friend's name. You'll have to speak a little
louder, I'm afraid."

"I say, mother," shouted George, "I want to
present my friend Mr. Specknoodle."

"I'm sorry, George, but Mr. What was

the name again?"

"Mr. Specknoodle!" George fairly yelled.

The old lady shook her head sadly.

"I'm sorry, George, but I'm afraid it's no use.
It sounds just like Specknoodle to me." — Every-
body's.

— Courtesy of the Ullman Mfg. Co., New York.
Copyright, 1906.

586

CURRENT LITERATURE

SELF-SACRIFICE
Mr. Bodger {heroically) : "Here, you take the um-
brella, Maria. Never mind about mel" — Sketch.

THE KIND CONDUCTOR

A pompous little man with gold-rimmed spec-
tacles and a thoughtful brow boarded a New
York elevated train and took the only unoccupied
seat. The man next him had evidently been
drinking. For a while the little man contented
himself with merely sniffing contemptuously at his
neighbor, but finally he summoned the guard.

"Conductor," he demanded indignantly, "do you
permit drunken people to ride upon this train?"

"No, sir," replied the guard in a confidential
whisper. "But don't say a word and stay where
you are, sir. If ye hadn't told me I'd never have
noticed ye." — Everybody's.

AFTER THE SERVICE
Deacon Wigg: "Now, that was a finished dis-
course."

Farmer Wagg: "Yes; but do you know, I
thought it never would be." — Judge.

FACT, NOT FANCY

"If you please, ma'am," said the servant from
Finland, "the cat's had chickens."

"Nonsense, Gertrude !" returned the mistress of
the house. "You mean kittens. Cats don't have
chickens."

"Was them chickens or kittens that master
brought home last night?"

"Chickens, of course."

"Well, ma'am, that's what the cat has had." —
Youth's Companion.

BLUE-BLOODED
Reformed Cannibal (with a dreadful past) : "I
may be black, Sah, but I've got British blood in
ma veins." — Punch.

DID HE GET THEM?

The records in the War Department in Wash-
ington are, as a rule, very dry, but occasionally
an entry is found that is humorous.

An officer of engineers, in charge of the con-
struction of a road that was to be built through
a swamp, being energetic himself and used to sur-
mounting mere obstacles, was surprised when one
of his young lieutenants whom he had ordered
to take twenty men and enter the swamp said
that he "could not do it — the mud was too deep."
The colonel ordered him to try. He did so, and
returned with his men covered with mud, and
said:

"Colonel, the mud is over my men's heads. I
can't do it."

The colonel insisted, and told him to make a
requisition for anything that was necessary for
the safe passage. The lieutenant made his requi-
sition in writing and on the spot. It was as fol-
lows :

"I want twenty men eighteen feet long to cross
a swamp fifteen feet deep." — Harper's Weekly.

HE KNEW

Sunday-school Teacher: "Who can tell me
the meaning of the word 'repentance?'"

A pause.

Sunday-school Teacher : "What is it that we
feel after we have done something wrong?"

Little Willie: "Papa's slipper." — Judge.

ON YOUR WAY

Rich Old Uncle: "And remember, dear, that
when I die all that I have goes to you."

Niece: "Thank you, uncle. Do let me give
you some more mince pie." — Harper's Weekly.

HIS FACE HIS FORTUNE
Knicker : "Strange they didn't name the baby

after its rich uncle."

Bocker: "No; he looked at it, and said he'd

give them $10,000 not to." — Smart Set.

IT BROKE

"Freddy, you shouldn't laugh out loud in the
schoolroom," exclaimed the teacher.

"I didn't mean to do it," apologized Freddy. "I
was smiling, when all of a sudden the smile
busted." — Harper's Weekly.

HEARD IN CAMBRIDGE
She: "You can always tell a Harvard man."
He (from New Haven) : "Yes; but you can't
tell him much." — Harper's Weekly.

Camera Fienu: "Hold on! You're too far ahead.
I can't get you both in." — Harper's Bazaar.

"I AM RETAINED BY THE PEOPLE OF NEW YORK STATE"
About Governor Charles E. Hughes, of New York, the whole country is asking questions and wondering
how far he is to go. One of his friends. President Faunce, of Brown University, writes of him: "There is
no mysterjr about him, no luck at the foundation of his success, no halo around his head; but there are certain
very <lehnite qualities in his personality. The most obvious of these is his analytic power and habit. To
hear him speak is to see a splendid exhibition of intellect in action. It is like watching the play of a
powerful and noiseless engine, with all the parts in perfect working order "

Current Literature

Edward J. Wheeler, Editor
VOL XLII, Na. 6 Associate Editors : Leonard D. Abbott, Alexander Harvey JUNE, i907

George 5. Vlereck

A Review of the World

HAT Mr. Debs, once a Socialist can-
didate for President, calls "the
greatest legal battle in American his-
tory," is now in progress in Boise
City, Idaho. Fifty special correspondents of
newspapers and magazines from all parts of
the country hastened last month to the little
city to report the case, and the telegraph com-
pany installed ten additional circuits to handle
the press of business. Boise City itself is not
excited. It has not furnished any of the de-
fendants, nor any of the lawyers, nor the vic-
tim whose murder is the cause of all this ex-
citement. All it furnishes is the jury to try
the case. But the country at large is furnish-
ing the excitement. The President of the
United States has been involved in a .heated
controversy over the character of the defend-
ants. The United States Supreme Court has
rendered a decision which is likened by So-
cialist orators to the Dred Scott decision of
half a century ago. Thousands of men have
been parading the streets of many cities — 50,-
000 in New York alone according to The Her-
ald's estimate — waving red flags, singing the
Marsellaise, denouncing the Supreme Court
and assailing the President in terms of bitter
reproach. And a collection of $250,000, ac-
cording to some estimates, has been gathered
from the members of labor unions to insure for
the defendants in this trial an adequate defense.

YV/HEN Frank Steunenberg, ex-Governor of
^^ Idaho, walked composedly . toward his
home in Caldwell, on Christmas eve seventeen
months ago, chatting with two friends, three
men were lying in wait near his gate, with
sawed-off shotguns, ready to shoot him dead.
When they saw his companions they cursed
their luck and waited for a better chance. Six
days later, December 30, 1905, 'the ex-Governor
walked home again and laid his hand upon the

familiar gate. It was his last act. The gate
was a traitor. To it had been tied a piece of
fish line, one end of which was attached to a
bomb, which exploded as the gate started to
swing open, and a few seconds later startled
friends found Steunenberg lying at the point of
death, almost torn limb from limb. Immediate
steps were taken to apprehend the murderers.
A patrol was established around the town of
Caldwell by Governor Gooding, who hastened
to the scene by a special train. No one was
permitted to enter or leave without giving a
satisfactory account of himself. Two sus-
picious characters who could not explain their
presence satisfactorily were arrested. One
gave his name as Harry Orchard, the other as
Steve Adams. A third man, their confederate,
got away and has never been found.

"X" EN thousand dollars reward was offered by
■*• Governor Gooding for the arrest and
conviction of the criminals. The Steunenberg
family offered five thousand more. The large
sums aroused the interest of the Pinkerton De-
tective Agency, and one of its managers, James
McPartland, came from New York to take
charge of the work. McPartland is sixty-
seven yeai-s of age, and has a history that
might make Sherlock Holmes turn green with
jealousy. It was he who, by months of ardu-
ous labor, unearthed the evidence that broke up
the famous Molly Maguire league in Pennsyl-
vania a generation ago. By his order Orchard
was placed in solitary confinement. None of
the guards was allowed to speak with him. As
the days passed by this enforced silence grew
almost unbearable. Suddenly he was ad-
dressed by McPartland: "What will that old
mother of yours think when she reads of you
in this fix?" Orchard jumped to his feet
startled, and wanted to know how the detective
knew anything about his mother. McPartland

588

CURRENT LITERATURE

talked to him about his home and his child-
hood. Orchard finally broke down and said he
was ready to make a confession. It took Mc-
Partland three days to take it down on paper.
Some account of its nature was given to the
newspapers, and this indicates that it is sensa-
tional in the extreme. According to this ac-
count Orchard confessed to twenty-six delib-
erate murders, all of them, according to him,
planned by an inner circle of the Western Fed-
eration of Miners and executed by himself
and others. From Steve Adams, his supposed
accomplice, another confession was obtained.
Adams afterwards, according to a relative, as-
serted that this confession was false and had
been secured from him by compulsion. To
what extent corroboration for either or both
these confessions has been obtained and can be
produced in court can be seen only as the trial
develops. The fate of the defendants depends
upon the corroborative evidence, not upon the
confessions. That is the law.

nn HREE men were implicated by Orchard as
*• principal agents in these murders. One
of them is William D. Haywood, secretary of
the Western Federation of Miners, "a big
sturdy fellow with a square head and solid
jaw," who has lost one eye and overworks the
other in much reading of socialistic and ideal-
istic literature. A second is Charles H. Moyer,
president of the same Federation, who has the
reputation, according to one newspaper corre-
spondent, of being the best man on his feet,
making a speech, in the ranks of organized
labor to-day. The third is George A. Petti-
bone, one of the members of the executive com-

mittee of the Federation, "a slight man, below
the average height, with a weak chin and the
good-natured grin that goes with it." If Or-
chard's reputed confession is to be trusted,
these three men, and especially Haywood and
Moyer, have been responsible for dozens of
murders extending over a series of years in
Colorado, Idaho and other states. All three
were living in Denver, Col., when Steu-
nenberg was killed, and the first move neces-
sary to brmg them to trial was to have them
extradited and brought to Idaho. And here
comes in a proceeding on the part of the au-
thorities that every Socialist paper in the coun-
try has been denouncing as a case of "kidnap-
ping," and which has been severely criticized
by a number of papers not of the Socialist per-
suasion, and by one member — Judge Mc-
Kenna — of the United States Supreme Court.

IDAHO officials proceeded to Denver and
■*■ presented to Governor McDonald their evi-
dence against Moyer, Haywood and Pettibone,
and a request from Governor Gooding for their
extradition. Now, "the foundation of extradit-
ing between the states," to quote Justice Mc-
Kenna, "is that the accused should be a fugi-
tive from justice from the demanding state,
and he may challenge the fact by habeas cor-
pus immediately upon his arrest." The Idaho
officials swore, apparently, that these three men
were fugitives from Idaho, and the Governor
of Colorado thereupon granted the request for
extradition. That was in the middle of the
week. The officials waited until Saturday,
February 17, and then arrested the men after
court hours, kept them secreted in jail all

WAVING RED FLAGS AND SINGING THE MARSELLAISE, THEY MARCHED THROUGH THE

STREETS OF NEW YORK
According to newspaper estimates, the procession of sympathizers with Mover and Haywood in New York
numbered about fitty thousand. Their banners bore placards assailing the President and the United States
Supreme Court, and many wore buttons bearing the words: "I am an undesirable citizen."

THE TRIAL OF MOVER AND HAYWOOD

589

THE ACCUSED MEN AND THEIR WIVES
At the extreme left is Mrs. Pettibone, next to her is her husband, next to him is Haywood, and the other
two members of the group are Mr. and Mrs. Moyer. According to Orchard's confession, Meyer and Hay-
wood planned the Steunenberg crime and Pettibone furnished the bomb, these three constituting the alleged
"inner circle" of the Western Federation of Miners.

night, and early the next morning took them
aboard a special train and made all haste into
Idaho. This was the proceeding that has
created such fervent indignation in the
columns of the Socialist press and for which
no other form of justification has been ad-
vanced, so far as we have seen, except that the
end in this case justified the means. Six days
later the attorneys of the imprisoned men ap-
plied to the Supreme Court of Idaho asking
for a writ of habeas corpus to test the validity
of the imprisonment. It was refused. A few
days later the petition for such a writ was
made to the United States Circuit Court of
Idaho. It was again denied. An appeal was
made to the United States Supreme Court. On
December 3 last the Supreme Court sustained
the decision of the Circuit Court, denying the
petition.

'X'HIS decision of the Supreme Court is not,
^ however, to the effect that the method of
securing extradition was regular or justified,
but simply that, however hasty or inconsider-
ate it may have been, it did not come into the
category of violations of the federal laws or

the federal constitution. The language of the
court is:

"Even if it be true that the arrest and deporta-
tion of Pettibone, Moyer and Haywood from Col-
orado was by fraud and connivance, in which the
Governor of Colorado was a party, this does not
make out a case of violation of the right of the
appellants under the constitution and laws of the
United States. . . . In the present case it is
not necessary to go behind the indictment and
inquire as to how it happened that he came within
reach of the process of the Idaho court, in which
the indictment is pending, and any investigation
as to the motives' which induced action by the
governors of Idaho and Colorado would be im-
proper as well as irrelevant as to the real question
to be now determined.

"It must be conclusively presumed that those
officers proceeded throughout this affair with no
evil purpose and with no other motive than to
enforce the law. The decision of the lower courts
is therefore affirmed."

From this decision Justice McKenna alone
dissented. In his opinion he said :

"Kidnapping is a crime, pure and simple. It is
difficult to accomplish, hazardous at every step.
All officers of the law are supposed to be on guard ,
against it But how is it when the law becomes
the kidnapper? When the officers of the law,
using its forms and exerting its power, become
abductors? This is not a distinction without a

590

CURRENT LITERATURE

CONFESSES TO TWENTY-SIX MURDERS
Harry Orchard's confession, which it took a Pinker-
ton detective three davs to transcribe, is said to impli-
cate Moyer, Haywood, and Pettibone not only in the
Steunenberg murder but in dozens of other murders.

difference. It is another form of the crime of
kidnapping distinguished from that committed b>
an individual only by circumstances'. . . .

"No individual could have accomplished what
the power of the two states accomplished. No
individual could have commanded the means of
success ; could have made two arrests of prom-
inent citizens by invading their homes ; could have
commanded the resources of jails, armed guards
and special trains ; could have successfully timed
all acts to prevent inquiry and judicial interference.

"The accused, as soon as he could have done so,
submitted his rights to the consideration of a fed-
eral court. He could not have done so in Col-
orado. He could not have done so on the way
from Colorado. At the first instant that the State
of Idaho relaxed its restraining power, he invoked
the aid of habeas corpus'.

"He should have been heard, not dismissed from
court, and the action of the circuit court in so
doing should be reversed."

HP HE interest of the Socialists in this matter
■■• is readily explained. The Western Fed-
eration of Miners is the one large labor or-
ganization in this country that has placed itself
upon an out-and-out Socialist platform. Hay-
wood himself, after his arrest and during his
incarceration, was made the Socialist candidate
for governor of Colorado, conducting his cam-
paign from the prison in Caldwell, Idaho, and

receiving 16,192 votes. As he is likely to be
a prominent figure before the country for some
weeks, the temper of the man, as manifested in
his letter of acceptance, is of interest. Here is
a passage from that letter :

"So far has the Supreme Court of Colorado sunk
below the level of common decency, a windlass
will be required to hoist them into the presence of
his Satanic Majesty. Under the black robes of
iniquity Beelzebub will recognize the prototypes of
Iscariot and Arnold; the five 'King's Bench' ad-
vocates are distinguished by the traitor's symbol.

"So coarse, so flagrant is the last fell decision
of the Supreme Court that the dilettante politicians
are aroused; sitting on their haunches, they are
howling like a pack of mangy coyotes ; their
dwarfed mentalities are unable to discern the
cause of the corruption in the Supreme Court,
which is a boil on the body politic ; it needs lanc-
ing and a strong poultice of Socialism; the sup-
puration is the natural result of a diseased system.
Eliminate the virus of profit, interest and rent
from the industrial arteries of the state, and the
commonwealth will no longer suffer the soul-
racking tortures, the effect of capitalism."

As for Moyer, the Pinkertons declare that
they have absolute proof that, before he be-
came president of the Federation, he had
served a term in the Joliet prison, Illinois, for
a series of burglaries committed on the west
side, Chicago. This is denied emphatically by
Mover and his counsel.

THE JUDGE IN THE MOYER-HAYWOOD CASE
Fremont Wood is a down- East Yankee, whose ap-
pearance is thus described: "He radiates the square
deal. To begin with, he bulks big. He has a massive
head, solidly set on broad, square shoulders topping a
powerful body. His eyes are keen and kindly, and
nave the twinkle in them that shows he knows how
to laugh,"

THE STORY OF GOVERNOR STEUNENBERG'S MURDER

591

nnHE murder of ex-Governor Steunenberg,
■'■ as viewed by the state authorities of Idaho
and by most of the daily papers of the country,
came as a sequel to a long series of labor
troubles between the miners and the mine-own-
ers of the Coeur d'Alene district in Idaho.
This district, twenty-five miles in length and
one to five miles wide, contains rich mines of
lead. Trouble began in 1892 and continued
for seven years, off and on, with all the usual
violent accompaniments of a war between labor
and capital in a region where the forces of
government are none too strong and the
leaders on either side none too scrupulous.
There were pitched battles between the union
men and the non-union men. Dynamite was
used to wreck mills, men were assassinated,
and on May 8, 1897, the feeling had become so
intense that President Boyce, of the Western
Federation, advised every local union to or-
ganize a rifle corps, "so that in two years we
can hear the inspiring music of the martial
tread of twenty-five thousand armed men in
the ranks of labor." The trouble reached a
climax in April, 1899, when the $250,000 mill
of the Bunker Hill Company was destroyed by
the miners with dynamite. Frank Steunenberg
was then Governor of Idaho. He had been
elected on a Populist ticket, by the support of

THE MAILS BRING HIM MANY THREATS
Frank R. Gooding, present governor of Idaho, has
been relentless in his efforts to ferret out the murderers
of Steunenberg, and his life is thought to be in some
jeopardy in consequence.

HE NEVER KNEW WHO KILLED HIM
Ex-Governor Frank Steunenberg, of Idaho, was
killed by a bomb as he swung open the gate leading to
his dwelling. When he called for federal troops to
quell labor riots eight years ago, he said he knew it
meant his political death. It is supposed to have re-
sulted in his physical death as well.

the labor men, and had been up to that time in
hearty sympathy with the labor unions, having
himself been a member of the typographical
union. Appealed to by the mine-owners for re-
dress, he now responded promptly by calling on
President McKinley for federal troops, and
by declaring Shoshone County in a state of
"insurrection and rebellion." On the arrival
of the troops — the first were negro companies
— wholesale arrests were made and a "bull-
pen" was constituted to hold those arrested.
There were a thousand men held there at one
time in a condition that has been described as
"insufferable." "Nothing less drastic than the
disease itself will cure," said the Governor,
and for all the severities of that period of mar-
tial* law "to a limited extent," to quofe the
State Supreme Court, he was held responsible
by the miners who suffered. Peace was re-
stored and has continued since, and for six
years after his retirement from the office of
Governor, Steunenberg applied himself to his
sheep-farm and other business interests. His

592

CURRENT LITERATURE

ONE OF IDAHO'S EARLIEST PIONEERS
James H. Hawley is the chief counsel for the state
in the prosecutions for the murder of ex-Governor
Steunenberg. He is sixty years of age, and has been
a resident of Idaho ever since he was fifteen.

violent death six years after his retirement
from politics was at once attributed to the de-
sire of the Federation for vengeance. "Evi-
dence is not wanting," said Governor Gooding,
"to show that Mr. Steunenberg's death was in
revenge by the lawless element for his faith-
fulness to his trust as Governor."

A PROSECUTOR WHO IS BEING PROSEtUTED
State Senator W. E. Borah, of Idaho, who is as-
sistant state counsel in the Moyer-Haywood case, has
himself been indicted recently for timber frauds. He
was at one time Governor Steunenberg's personal
counsel.

THE interpretation which the Socialist
papers place upon his death is somewhat
varied. At times it has been charged that the
killing of Steunenberg was the result of a
capitalistic plot to discredit the Federation. In
this fantastic theory, earnestly advanced. Or-
chard, the instrument of the murder, was an
agent of the capitalists and the evidence ob-
tained from him, including the confession, was
all prearranged between the detectives and
Orchard himself! The People, the daily or-
gan of the Socialist Labor Party in New York,
not only maintains this, but asserts with em-
phasis that in the railway strikes of 1894, in
Chicago, "it was the capitalist class who set
the cars afire in order to furnish an excuse
for sending the federal troops to suppress the
successful lawful strikers;" in the Colorado
labor troubles of 1903, "it was the Mine-Own-
ers' Association who hired thugs to derail
trains, blow up mines and railroad stations."
A more plausible theory of Steunenberg's mur-
der is that advanced by the special correspond-
ent of Wilshire's Magazine (Socialist), that
"there is little doubt but that the crime was
perpetrated by some miner who had suffered
from his [Steunenberg's] cruelty in the bull-
pen in 1899." Being so perpetrated, however,
the capitalists, so this correspondent, Joseph
Wanhope concludes, immediately seized the
occasion for their advantage:

"My deliberate conviction, then, is that a mur-
der plot is being engineered, the preparations for
which probably began years ago. That the entire
machinery of the law courts, the executive, judi-
cial and legislative powers of the states of Idaho
and Colorado are entirely at the disposal of those
who desire to carry it through ; that the apparent
agent is the Pinkerton Detective Bureau under
the superintendence of James McPartland, the
actual movers being the Mine Owners' Associa-
tion with allied local capitalist groups, having
contact with the still greater combinations of
capital that rule our land; that the immediate
object is the destruction of the organization of
the Western Federation of Miners through the
destruction of their ablest men, and the ultimate
object to deal a blow at the growing Socialist
movement, which already has become a menace
to the exploiting class."

Another suggestion made by the Socialists is
that Steunenberg was mixed up with land
frauds and was killed by some enemy he had

PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT ON "UNDESIRABLE CITIZENS'

593

made in that connection. Much is made of the
fact that Senator Borah, of Idaho, attorney for
the prosecution of Haywood and Moyer, has
recently been indicted for complicity in such
frauds, and was Steunenberg's personal counsel.

KJOT all the lurid utterances of the Socialist
■^^ press, however, nor all the dramatic
events that led up to the murder of Steunen-
berg, nor the "kidnapping" of Moyer, Hay-
wood and Pettibone, nor the deliverance of the
Supreme Court, sufficed to draw general at-
tention to this cause celehre until President
Roosevelt recently published his notable letter
to Congressman Sherman, in which he grouped
together Moyer, Haywood, Debs and E. H.
Harriman as types of "undesirable citizens."
That incidental reference to the two labor lead-
ers now on trial for their lives incensed also
many labor men who do not train in the Social-
ist ranks, and the general opinion of the press
of the country is that it was an injudicious ut-
terance, which, made in a private letter a year
ago, was published last month without suffi-
cient regard for the effects of this particular
passage. Many protests were sent last month
to the White House from labor bodies, and
several delegations were sent to the President.
In response, came a characteristic reply from
the President in defense of his phrase "unde-
sirable citizens" as applied to Moyer and Hay-
wood, but disclaiming any intention of endeav-
oring to mfluence the course of justice, and, in
turn, deprecating such endeavors on the part of
the friends of the accused "But," the Presi-
dent insisted, "it is a simple absurdity to sup-
pose that because any man is on trial for a
given offense he is therefore to be freed from
all criticism upon his general conduct and man-
ner of life." He continues:

"But no possible outcome, either of the trial or
the suits, can affect my judgment as to the un-
desirability of the type of citizenship of those
whom I mentioned. Messrs. Moyer, Haywood
and Debs stand as representatives of those men
who have done as much to discredit the labor
movement as the worst speculative financiers or
most unscrupulous employers of labor and de-
bauchers of legislatures have done to discredit
honest capitalists and fair dealing business men.

"They stand as the representatives of those men
who, by their public utterances and manifestos, by
the utterances of the papers they control or in-
spire and by the words and deeds of those asso-
ciated with or subordinate to them, habitually ap-
pear as guilty of incitement to or apology for
bloodshed and violence. If this does not consti-
tute undesirable citizenship, then there can never
be any undesirable citizens. The men whom [
denounce represent the men who have abandoned
that legitimate movement for the uplifting of
labor, with which I have the most hearty sym-

ONCE A RAILWAY ATTORNEY, NOW A
SOCIALIST LEADER
Clarence S. Darrow, of Chicago, one of the lawyers
for the defense in the great trial in Boise City, is an
author, a disciple of Tolstoy, a Socialist leader, and
has been the attorney for labor unions in the Debs
strike, the coal strike, and on various other occasions.
He was born in Ohio fifty years ago.

THE CHIEF HOPE OF MOYER AND HAYWOOD
E. F. Richardson, of Denver, is the chief counsel of
the defendants. He is one of Colorado's ablest crim-
inal lawyers, and a partner of United States Senator
Thomas M. Patterson.

594

CURRENT LITERATURE

pathy; they had adopted practices which cut them
off from those who lead this legitimate movement.
In every way I shall support the law-abiding and
upright representatives of labor; and in no way
can I better support them than by drawing the
sharpest possible line between them on the one
hand and on the other hand those preachers of
violence who are themselves the worst foes of the
honest laboring men."

/^N THIS and on the Supreme Court's
^^ dictum already quoted, and on various
other developments in the case, Mr. Eugene V.
Debs, leader of the railway strikes that were
suppressed by federal troops in President
Cleveland's administration, and who, after im-
prisonment for contempt of court, became a
Socialist candidate for President and is now
the most prominent Socialist leader in the
country, has been busy for months comment-
ing in fiery language in his paper, The Appeal
to Reason (Girard, Kans.). He charges col-
lusion between the Supreme Court and the
President, asserting that the Harriman letter
and its passage about "undesirable citizens"
was read to members of the Supreme Court by
the President himself before their decision on
the "kidnapping" of Moyer and Haywood had
been rendered. No evidence whatever of this
fact is offered; it is simply asserted, and then
is characterized as "the most startling and ex-
traordinary disclosure in ihe political history
of the United States," the result of which "will
load every name and judicial title associated
with it with an eternity of execration." Mr.
Debs's writings are so characteristic of the
dominant tone of Socialistic papers in this
country that we can not refrain from reproduc-
ing another passage from one of his editorials
on this subject written a number of weeks
ago:

"The cause being absolutely righteous and my
duty clear, I am going to act as conscience dic-
tates regardless of consequences to myself.

"Now, what can we do? A thousand things I
We can think and act, and the first thing to think
about is that we must act without delay.

"We are on the eve of battle; the lines ale
drawn and the forces are gathering.

"Our first appeal is' to the working class, the
whole of it, from sea to sea, old and young, male
and female.

"Our next appeal is to every human being who
loves justice, abominates crime and abhors mur-
der^y

"The most monstrous crimes in all history are
those committed in the sacred name of justice.

"Legal murder is the crime of crimes and ks
perpetrator the fiend of fiends'.

"Our comrades are already the victims of a
thousand legal crimes, and the sufferings they and
their loved ones have endured no mortal being
can ever describe.

"From their prison cell, dark as a cave, there

issues a cry to the working class and to all hu-
manity, and the voice of God is in that cry.

"Let the working class respond like the waves
of the sea when the storm god touches the organ
keys and the motionless surface is transformed
into surging billows, and then that gloomy cell in
Idaho will become all radiant with light.

"Let me summarize a few of the things that may
be done at once to arouse the working class. . . .

"Eighth — The Supreme Court of the United
States, the final tribunal in the service of the cap-
italist class versus the working class, has placed
its judicial seal upon kidnapping; and kidnapping
is now no longer a crime, but a constitutional pre-
rogative, a legal right and a personal privilege.
Kidnapping being a legitimate practice, we all have
a perfect right to engage in it. Let us take ad-
vantage of the opening. For every workingman
kidnapped a capitalist must be seized and held for
ransom. Let us put the law laid down by the
Supreme Court into practice. It is infamous, to be
sure, and should be repealed, and the certain way
to repeal it is to make it work both ways. The
kidnapping of the first capitalist will convulse the
nation and reverse the Supreme Court."

TV/ HAT Mr. Debs would call the capitalistic
"' press is, with a few exceptions, loud in
praise of the President's reply to his critics.
According to the New York Evening Post, he
"never did a finer thing." According to the
Brooklyn Eagle, "never was letter more time-
ly, never was it in more urgent demand, never
more courageous in its statement of a case."
The Pittsburg Dispatch esteems it "a positive
inspiration to find a man of the President's
straightforward type." The New York Times
thinks he never wrote a "more edifying or
salutary" letter. The Philadelphia Ledger con-
siders his "scorching reply" one that even cap-
tious critics will find it hard to find fault with.
The Chicago Post remarks that the answer is
"all-sufficient" and the position assumed is "im-
pregnable." Similar comment might be repro-
duced to an indefinite extent. But, on the other
hand, at least two papers of weight criticize
the President's position as unwarranted and
dangerous. Says the Baltimore Sun:

"A fair trial means something more than the
regular procedure of the law after the defendants
are arraigned in court. It means that no effort
ought to be made before the trial begins to pre-
judge the case in the court of public opinion; to
influence, even indirectly, the men from whom the
jury must be selected in a manner prejudicial to
the accused. ... In making this [Sherman]
letter public during his recent controversy with
Mr. Harriman, and in reiterating now the state-
ment to which not only organized labor, but all
fair-minded and disinterested citizens object, the
President manifests a spirit which is utterly ir-
reconcilable with just consideration for the rights
of the men who are to be tried for their lives."

The Springfield Republican takes the same
view:

OPENING THE JAMESTOWN EXPOSITION

595

Copyrieht. 1907, by C. L. Chester

'AT ANCHOR IN HAMPTON ROADS THEY LAY"
The naval review at the opening exercises of the Jamestown Exposition, at which many foreign nations
were represented by their fighting ships. The ship in the picture with one funnel is the Mayflower, on
board of which is President Roosevelt.

"It cannot matter that he had no reference to
the pending trial or alleged crime. The denuncia-
tion of these men was made public when this trial
is pending, and it becomes none the less' potent
for mischief that it related to their general con-
duct without regard to the present specific charges
against them. Nor does the mere fact that the
officials of the Western Federation of Miners have
been in hot water for some years prove of itself
that they are dangerous characters. It might be
that they have met a more powerful and unscru-
pulous organization of capitalists and employers
than has been the case with Eastern labor leaders.
There are good men in the inter-mountain states
who say that such is the fact and the explanation.'

O exposition has yet been held in
America that was even practically
complete on the day of opening,
and no press agent of an exposition
has ever failed to assure the public, up to
the very day of opening, that his particular
show would break all records by being ready
in all but a few minor details. The Jamestown
exhibition has differed in this respect from its
predecessors in being a little more unfinished
than any of the rest, and its "chief of exploita-
tion" has differed from others only in the more
positive character of his assurances before-
hand. "But after all," remarks the Philadel-
phia Ledger, philosophically, "only children go
to fairs to see the exhibits; the experienced
traveler and grown people go to fairs to see
the people." And it grows eloquent on the
subject of the tidewater Virginian, the lank
North Carolinian in hickory shirt and jeans,
real Southern negro mammies with heads
decked out with red bandanas, and the shouts
of laughter from unsophisticated negroes, from
all of which "the auditor will receive a hint of
the world's youth and of those remote golden,
mythical ages when even the grown-ups

played."

DUT there are other things. There is the
'-^ naval display. All expositions have mil-
itary displays, but few can have a naval dis-
play, and none has had one equal to that in
Hampton Roads. The press agent has been
spreading himself on this feature for months
with such eloquence that weeks ago he called
down the wrath of the peace advocates and a
formal protest from a dozen of his board of
managers. He promised "a continuous scene
of martial splendor from beginning to end," "a
great living picture of war with all of its en-
ticing splendors" and the "greatest array of
gorgeous military uniforms of all nations ever
seen in any country," and so on until sixteen
bishops of the Protestant Episcopal Church re-
belled against the "gross anachronism" of such
"a barbaric display of military power," and
Dr. Parkhurst preached a sermon denouncing
it in his usual vigorous style. The humor of
it all dawns upon one when he sees, not a spec-
tacle of "the splendors of war," but of the
splendors of peace, — great warships from all
the nations that possess navies anchored peace-
fully side by side, using powder only to salute
each other, their men fraternizing upon all oc-
casions and doing nothing more hostile than to
compete with one another in rowing contests
and on parade. When, for instance, on May
13, the three hundredth anniversary of the
landing of the first permanent settlers in Amer-
ica was celebrated, eight thousand soldiers,
sailors and marines, all the warships furnishing
their quota, paraded in review before General
Kuroki, Vice-admiral Ijuin, the Duke of the
Abruzzi, Generals Grant and Wood and vari-
ous other American and foreign officers; and
as it passed the reviewing stand, each foreign
band struck up the "Star Spangled Banner"
amid deafening cheers that followed invari-
ably. "Splendors of war," indeed ! The naval

59^

CURRENT LITERATURE

interest and enthrall him [the visitor]. It would
be hard to name a place in the older part of the
country which the hands of time and man have
touched so lightly, which remains to-day so like
to what it was in the beginning. Furthermore,

Captain John Smith is made captive by the savages,
who dance triumphantljr about him, brandishing their
bows and arrows, and binding him to a tree.

King Powhatan held this state and fashion when
Captain John Smith was delivered to him prisoner in
the year 1607.

JAMESTOWN'S IMMORTAL ROMANCE OF CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH

dispfey at Hampton Roads, rightly viewed, is
almost as much of a peace display as The
Hague Conference itself, so soon to assemble.
Says the New York Tribune, commenting on
this phase of the exposition :

"A celebration of the Jamestown tercentenary
without a great naval display would have been
singularly inappropriate. Yet by no means the
least impressive feature of the occasion is this :
That these natives of many lands, including three
with which America was once at war and others
which at times have been at war among them-
selves, now meet in those historic waters in
perfect peace and friendship, and with a pros-
pect that those beneficent conditions will be per-
petuated. Jamestown is still identified with sea
power, but it is a sea power which contains
within itself the promise and the potency of
lasting peace."

DUT the real sight at the Jamestown exhibi-
■*-' tion is neither the naval display — one of
the greatest ever witnessed — nor the exhibits,
nor even the spectators. The historical asso-
ciations of the locality are what give real dis-
tinction to the occasion. They didn't have to
be "finished." They were there waiting and
ready, and from them President Roosevelt's
speech on the opening day, April 26, and Am-
bassador Bryce's speech on May 13 derived the
major part of their inspiration. Says the
Cleveland Plain Dealer:
"It is the location and its traditions that will

there is no section of the country into which so
much of the country's history has been crowded.
. . . Former expositions have been for the
most part somewhat vaunting displays of our
bigness and richness, of our great endings. To
the thoughtful American the Jamestown fair will
suggest our small beginnings. Perhaps it is
worth while to hold an exposition merely for
that purpose."

The landing at Jamestown is classified by
James Bryce as "one of the great events in the
history of the world," — "an event to be com-
pared for its momentous consequences with the
overthrow of the Persian Empire by Alexan-
der, with the destruction of Carthage by Rome,
with the conquest of Gaul by Clovis, with the
taking of Constantinople by the Turks — one
might almost say with the discovery of Amer-
ica by Columbus." This is the great event that
alone gives occasion to the exhibition and
which has wisely dominated in the plans of the
managers. "The people have had a surfeit of
showcases and machinery of late," remarks the
Manchester Mirror, and "they may be the bet-
ter prepared for a historic pilgrimage." That
is the spirit in which visitors who do not wish
to be disappointed should go to Jamestown.

IN a number of articles in various magazines,
* Thomas Nelson Page has been endeavoring
to place the Jamestown settlement in its right
historic perspective, a perspective which, he

THE REAL CRADLE OF AMERICAN LIBERTY

597

thinks, has been falsified by the fact that Vir-
ginians and Southerners generally have un-
happily paid little attention to the recording of
their own annals. The writing of history was

Captain John Smith's victory over King Pamaunkee,
in 1608, when he "snatched the King by his long
locke, and with his Pistoll readie bent against his
breast, led him trembling neare dead with feare."
AND THE INDIAN MAIDEN POCAHONTAS AS DEPICTED IN RARE ANCIENT PRINTS

Just as the execution was to take place, Pocahontas
rushed forward interceding for mercy and compelling
the executioners to desist.

left by them to those who had little familiarity
with the part that Southern colonies played in
the making of the country. It was only after
long negotiations with the Virginia colony, he
reminds us, that the Pilgrim Fathers set sail
in the Mayflower, under the charter of the
Virginia Company. They sailed, too, for the
shores of Southern Virginia and esteemed it a
great misfortune that the winds and currents
took them to the bleak coast of New England.
By that time, self-government had already be-
come so firmly planted in Virginia that it was
beginning to affect not only the people but the
government of Great Britain. Jamestown was
"the Mother Christian Town" of the continent,
and Jamestown Island, where the first landing
was made, was formally seized "for the King-
dom of God and the Kingdom of England."
Two years before the landing at Plymouth
Rock, the Jamestown Colony had begun the
establishment of a university, with a college
for the conversion and education of Indian
youth. And one year before, in 1619, the spirit
of independence had reached such a pitch that
the Spanish Ambassador in England warned
King James that the Virginia courts had be-
come "a seminary for a seditious Parliament."
That same year the colonists established the
first representative assembly on American soil,
and sent word to Great Britain that no orders

issued by the Virginia Company in London
and no laws made there should become effect-
ive in Virginia unless approved by the repre-
sentatives of the colony. A fact that even
John Fiske seems to have overlooked is that
the principle of "no taxation without repre-
sentation" was first enunciated, not in Massa-
chusetts but in Virginia, when in 1624 her gen-
eral assembly enacted a law that no tax should
be levied except by the authority of her own
assembly. In Mr. Page's judgment, therefore,
Virginia rather than New England, Jamestown
rather than Plymouth Rock, is entitled to be
known as the cradle of American civil liberty.

DE THIS as it may, the undisputed historic
'^ claim.s which this whole region possesses
are many and strong, and one meets at every
hand reminders of the doughty Captain John
Smith and the dusky and romantic Pocahontas ;
of Patrick Henry and George Washington and
John Marshall, of Jefferson, Madison, Monroe
and Tyler. And not only does the region teem
with memories of colonial and revolutionary
days, but of the days of the nation's great in-
testine conflict as well. Not only was it here
that Cornwallis laid down his arms, but here
also Lee laid down his arms and the Civil War
came to an end where the importation of slaves
had had its beginning. It was here that the first

598

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE HERO OF JAMESTOWN
Bronze statue of Captain John Smith, by William
Couper, of New York, to be unveiled at Jamestown
Island, September, 1907, by the Society for the Preser-
vation of Virginia antiquities.

battle of that war — Big Bethel — was fought,
here that the Cumberland went down with her
flag still flying, and that the Merrimac and the
Monitor had their memorable duel, a reproduc-
tion of which, on the same site, will take place
at regular intervals during the exposition. "At
first," says a writer in The National Magazine,
"there is a twinge of disappointment in the fact
that poetic sentiment is not gratified by having
the exposition at Jamestown, the actual his-
toric ground itself ; for it is not being held on
the spot on which Captain John Smith and his
followers established the first permanent Eng-
lish settlement in America ; but, in a few hours,

by ferry to Newport News, and by rail to Will-
iamsburg, Va., you may revel in historic
scenes, and memories of 'ye olden tyme.' "

WITH a calculated enthusiasm which to
Jingo Berlin dailies seems extremely
subtle, the government of Great Britain is
making much ado over the Jamestown exposi-
tion. London's object, as interpreted in the
Berlin Kretiz Zeitung, is to bring home to the
American mind the fact that England is "the
mother country" and, as a result, the only real
friend of the United States in Europe. Lon-
don organs have certainly interested them-
selves profoundly in what happened in Vir-
ginia on the thirteenth of last month. "The
founding of America," to quote the words of
the London Standard, "must always rank
among the greatest of British achievements,
and it is only fitting that we should take a
larger part in celebrating it than any other
nation." Another international exposition
needs a good deal of justification, we are like-
wise assured by the Manchester Guardian, but
the celebration at Jamestown "justifies itself."
There were, in fact, earlier English settlements
than the one at Jamestown. Sir Humphrey
Gilbert reached Newfoundland in 1583 on the
Golden Hind. Raleigh landed near Roanoke,
in North Carolina, in 1584, and for four years,
with Grenville's help, tried desperately but un-
successfully to found a self-supporting colony.
But both attempts failed, and it was not until
England adopted the idea of establishing col-
onies by means of associated companies that a
permanent lodgment was efifected on American
soil. In December, 1606, one hundred and
forty-three emigrants were sent out by the
London Company. They were at sea until the
26th of the ensuing April, landed near Cape
Henry, in Virginia, were driven back by In-
dians and, after anchoring off Hampton Roads,
landed finally on May thirteenth — the red-letter
day of the past month — on a peninsula which
juts into the James River.

HTHAT peninsula was an island to the thou-
•*• sands who took part in the ceremonies of
a few weeks ago. For nearly two centuries it has
been an island, and for more than two cen-
turies it has been abandoned. The early years
of the settlement were years of intense hard-
ship from fever, famine and the attacks of the
natives. Only the strong and romantic person-
ality of Captain John Smith — "the last of the
knight errants," as the London Standard calls
him — held the colonists together. By 1610, in-
deed, it seemed as tho the fate of the Roanoke

SENATOR FO RAKER'S FIGHT FOR POLITICAL LIFE

599

settlement were to be duplicated at Jamestown.
The colonists, reduced to a mere starving rem-
nant, decided to abandon the place. They were
actually on board their ships and clearing out
of Hampton Roads when the lookout spied a
sail. It proved to be one of three vessels, fitted
out by the company at Captain John Smith's,
instigation, and bearing not only a new Gov-
ernor in the person of Lord Delaware, but
abundant provisions and a body of mechanics
as settlers. Jamestown was reoccupied and
extended and all thought of departure or dis-
persion died away. No wonder, then, com-
ments the London Standard, that England
feels peculiarly at home in a land celebrating
such achievements. The German dailies are
sarcastically bidden to conceal their jealousies
by renewing protestations of Emperor Will-
iam's devotion to the Monroe Doctrine.

HE air has been full of political an-
nouncements from Ohio during the
last few weeks, but all of them
point to the same result. Senator
Foraker can hardly be said to be fighting
any longer to defeat the selection of Taft
by Ohio Republicans for the presidency. He

AT JAMESTOWN
Shade of John Smith (to his descendants) :
cornel

Wel-

Stereograph copyright by Underwood & Underwood, New York

JAPAN'S MOST INTERESTING EXHIBIT AT
JAMESTOV^N
General Kuroki, the hero of the Yalu, one of the
few living soldiers who has commanded over 100,000
men at one time in actual operations in the field,
has been rapturously received by Japanese dwell-
ing in this country. His presence has revived dis-
cussion of the status of his countrymen here, but
the General denies that his visit has anything to
do with diplomatic negotiations between the two
countries.

is fighting now for his own political life, and
the fight seems to become more and more des-

6oo

CURRENT LITERATURE

"I DO NOT WANT ANY POLITICAL HONORS
FROM THE REPUBLICANS OF OHIO WITHOUT
THEIR HEARTY APPROVAL."

Latest photograph of Senator Foraker, made on the
occasion of his recent visit to Cincinnati. Because of
his unbending attitude on the subject of Taft the
"peace conference" of Republican leaders was sud-
denly called off.

perate. Whether or not he shall succeed in
securing his own re-election is in itself a mat-
ter of state rather than of national importance.
The only phase of his fight that is of general

interest is its effect upon the fortunes of Taft
in the next national Republican convention
The Boston Herald's conclusion is that "from
the present outlook it will be Taft first and
nobody second when the national convention
ends." Even the Ohio "machine" — "a machine
which Taft," according to the Cleveland Plain
Dealer, "has done more than any other one
man to make odious to Ohioans" — has swung
into line for the portly Secretary-of-War, and
Senators Foraker and Dick, who are still hold-
ing out for some sort of deal with the Secre-
tary's friends, seem to be in danger of being
marooned on a lone and desolate island from
which even George B. Cox has fled in haste.

ON ONE point the press correspondents all
seem agreed, that, so far as Taft himself
is concerned, there will be no "deal" with
Foraker. This is the construction placed upon
the Secretary's course by Democratic as well
as Republican correspondents and editors.
Says the Washington correspondent of the
Cleveland Plain Dealer (Dem.) :

"It is plain if the presidency is only to be had
by running after it, William H. Taft will never
be president. He won't run after it. He de-
clined to talk politics to-day, and he has no in-
tention of talking politics in the future. . . .

"It was a concession on his part that he devoted
so much time to political conferences in Cincin-
nati. Such quiet advising with friends who want
to further his cause, there or elsewhere, will be
about the only part he will take as a candidate.
And such conferences usually end with his sug-
gesting that his friends go ahead as seems best
to them, with the one ironclad stipulation that
there shall be no deals.

"Secretary Taft would consent to no deal with
Foraker, he will tolerate no deal with George B.
Cox. His brother, Charles P. Taft, was never
at any time authorized to promise Cox, or Herr-
mann or Hynicka anything in the name of
William H. Taft, and Charles P. Taft insists that
he never did. The war secretary has said ^hat
he would not have the presidency at the price of
a compromise with Cox, the boss he once ad-
vised Cincinnati Republicans to smash."

And the New York World (Dem.) com-
ments as follows on Mr. Taft's apparent indis-
position to talk personal politics:

"Secretary Taft shows a deplorable lack of
fitness as a Presidential candidate. Returning
from a month's trip abroad he quietly discusses
public affairs in Panama, Porto Rico and Cuba
and refuses to be agitated over the political crisis
in Ohio. ... As the prospective heir to the
Roosevelt fortunes Secretary Taft might have
manifested plainer signs of delight. Nobody had
taken the precaution to send him a wireless mes-
sage on shipboard warning him not to talk on
touching shore. He reaches home and the only
thing that he will talk about is the Gatun dam
and the Culebra cut. For him Foraker and Dick

IS THE PRESIDENT FORCING TAFT'S CANDIDACY?

6oi

do not exist. Such a lame conclusion raises the
question whether a man so devoted to minding
his official business is fit to be a candidate for
President."

OIGNS are beginning to multiply that the
*^ point of attack in Taft's candidacy from
now on will be not so much Taft himself — tho
his rulings as a judge on labor cases and his
utterances in favor of tariff revision are being
brought out — but on the principle involved in
the question, Shall President Roosevelt be al-
lowed to name his successor? Senator For-
aker, in his Canton speech, sounded the note
for this attack cautiously but clearly, saying:
"That the president of the United States should
become personally engaged in a political con-
test to determine his successor is without prece-
dent, unless it be the bad precedent set by An-
drew Jackson as to Martin Van Buren." The
New York Press, a radical Republican paper
entirely out of sympathy with Foraker per-
sonally, but in favor of La Follette instead of
Taft for the next presidential candidate, makes
use of the same sort of argument. It says:

"President Roosevelt must abandon his resolve
to name his successor if he desires our political
institutions and our system of government by the
people to survive. He must leave this work of
choosing a candidate to the members of the
Republican party throughout the United States.
It must always be left there, as the selection of the
chief magistrate must be left to the electors at
large, unless we are to concede that our theories
of independent government are an utter failure,
and that we are to begin an era of a sort of
hereditary personal sovereignty, wherein a Roose-
velt decrees a Taft as his residuary legatee, a
Taft somebody else as his residuary legatee, and
thus with the next, and so on down through
history."

And Maurice A. Low, Washington corre-
spondent of the Boston Globe, writes to that
journal on this phase of the subject as follows:

"Mr. Taft suffers also from the fact that the
President is attempting to make him his political
heir without consulting the men who think they
ought to have a voice in the matter. The way
Mr. Taft has been made the prospective candidate
is bitterly resented by many prominent Republi-
cans. The curious thing is they all like Mr.
Taft. They have the highest opinion of his
abilities and admire his engaging qualities. They
frankly admit he would make an almost ideal
president. He is conservative, courageous and
fair. He would come to the presidency better
equipped than almost any other man who has
preceded him. He has had an active part in every
great question that has been before the country
in the last few years. While Republicans admit
this and say he would give the country a magnifi-
cent administration, they object to the idea that
the President can select his successor without
consulting the party."

"A MAN OF CHEERFUL YESTERDAYS AND
CONFIDENT TO-MORROWS"
A new picture of Secretary Taft taken as he was
about to enter his carriage in Cincinnati, upon the
pccasion of his recent visit there to confer on the
presidential^ question. Says a newspaper correspond-
ent: "He is the inventor and the sole authorized user
of the smile-that-wont-come-off. Everyone who knows
him well enough calls him 'Bill'; everybody else would
like to."

nPHE charge that the President is forcing

•*• Taft upon the party is thus rather freely

made, but as yet it is not accompanied by any

clearly drawn specifications. Senator Foraker

602

CURRENT LITERATURE

Photograph by Underwood & Underwood

ONCE PROPRIETOR OF "MURDERERS' ROW,"
NOW PRESIDENT OF A TRUST COMPANY
George B. Cox, Senator Foraker's lieutenant in
Cincinnati, says the Republican Party's interests call
for the endorsement of Taft for President. He is
still a power in politics, and the Trust Company of
which he is presiaent is one of the strongest in Ohio.

expressly disclaimed making the charge; his
statement quoted above was made in reply to
a newspaper headline for which he refused to
hold the President responsible. The New York
Sun (anti-Roosevelt), in a Cincinnati dispatch,
gives something like a specification in the fol-
lowing quotation from "an ardent supporter of
Secretary Taft," whose name is not given:

"Theodore Roosevelt is fighting for that New
York Taft delegation, and Gov. Hughes will help
him get it. That is now known to be the real
meaning of the latest moves on the New York

checker board, which have astonished and mysti-
fied the East. The plan of the 'reactionaries' was
to pick a delegation from New York which would
not only oppose Hughes but also Taft and any-
body else who was satisfactory to the President
and the 'progressive' Republicans. The Presi-
dent smelled out his plan. He acted at once,
and so rapidly that in a day there was a thoro
understanding effected whereby the Roosevelt and
Hughes men in New York would work together
and in harmony. Simultaneously a stroke or two
of the Federal patronage ax discomfited the
'reactionaries' and put them to rout for the
present at least."

The Washington correspondent of the New
York Times declares that the Federal patron-
age in Ohio is already being used to strengthen
Taft, and Burton as well, at the expense of
Senators Foraker and Dick. Says The Times
correspondent :

"Already President Roosevelt has followed the
recommendations of Taft and Burton in appoint-
ing a federal judge, when the senators had an-
other candidate. His appointment of Ralph Tyler
as auditor for the Navy Department was a
frank effort to counterbalance with the colored
voters Foraker's Brownsville performance. In
short, all the political strength that may lie in
Federal patronage is at the disposal of Taft and
Burton in their fight with the senators. More
than that, federal officeholders in Ohio will do
well to avoid all communications with the sena-
torial camp if they desire to hold their jobs.
What happened to Archie Sanders, internal reve-
nue collector, and a Wadsworth lieutenant in
New York, may happen to federal officeholders
in Ohio. His resignation, it will be remembered,
was demanded on short notice."

The Louisville Post, however, asserts that
"there has been nowhere any manifestation of
a purpose on the part of the President to name
his successor. "The one expression, authori-

Ohio:

'Go, ahead, Old Man, I'll look after the kid."
— Brinckerhoff in Toledo Blade.

OPPOSITION TO TAFT

603

tative and conclusive from the President, is
that he will not accept another nomination. . .
The President has not named his successor,
has not undertaken to do so; he has said no
more for Taft than for Root or for Hughes."

/^THER attacks upon the Taft candidacy
^^ come from the Anti-Saloon League and
the American Protective Tariff League. The
former body objects to the recommendation
made by Secretary Taft some time ago for the
restoration of the army "canteen." The latter
body objects to him for the following reasons
as set forth by Colonel William Barbour, a
New Jersey member of the league:

"Mr. Taft's strenuous advocacy of free trade
in Philippine products competing with the
products of American agriculture stamps him as
a devoted friend of the semi-servile and half-
savage Filipino, but it does not make him out
a protectionist.

"Mr. Taft's persistence in the matter of pur-
chasing in foreign markets materials and supplies
for the construction of the Panama Canal was
doubtless actuated by a desire to enforce strict
economy in the canal expenditures, but it was a
mistaken economy.

"Early in the campaign of 1906 Mr. Taft made
a speech in Maine in which he pronounced for
immediate revision downward of the Dingley
tariflf. Doubtless he honestly believed it to be
true when he said that Republican sentiment de-
manded tariff revision without delay. But he
was mistaken in that belief.

CONGRATULATIONS

— Brewerton in Atlanta Journal.

TOO UNHEALTHY FOR THE PRINCE
This elaborate bassinet was objected to bjr the Eng-
lish physician of the Prince of the Asturias as too
stuffy and close for the baby to sleep in. There was
some lack of harmony at the palace in consequence.

"It is well that Secretary Taft's early and frank
avowal of his presidential aspirations should be
met by an equally early and frank avowal that if
he is to stand well with protectionists he must
declare himself a protectionist in terms of un-
mistakable certainty."

Another person from whom Mr. Taft fails
to find support for his presidential candidacy
is — his mother. "I do not want my son to be
president," she says; "a place on the Supreme

6o4

CURRENT LITERATURE

r-^fl

i^^l

/^^

* "^-^SS. *

.^^t'«f-w

W^iLK/,

Y >^^!\

'— ^ X ^m\

'^^^

.^^^

■\,

^gai

/.^^^^^

i ' 1

in;

""^•vll^Hg^^

K 1

IWt 1

TRANSMITTERS OF THE HAPSBURG LIP
He is Alfonso XIII, shown here with his consort,
Victoria Eugenia, Queen of Spain. The lady has in
her veins the best royal blood in Europe, but her hus-
band comes of stock in which hereditary mental un-
balance is associated with that famous physical char-
acteristic known in history as the Hapsburg lip.

Bench, where my boy would administer justice,
is my ambition for him."

*
* ♦

no MENTION of the great swollen
under lip of the Hapsburgs was
made in the dispatches that told of
the paternal pride with which
the King of Spain, accompanied by the Mis-
tress of the Robes, presented the newly-born
Prince of the Asturias on a silver salver to the
diplomatic corps, to the primate of the realm,
to knights of the Order of St. John of Jeru-
salem, to the cabinet, to the Captain-general
of New Castile. If blue eyes and light hair be
correctly ascribed to this first-born and heir of
Alfonso XIII, the babe is no Spanish Bourbon
of the historical type. The Prince of the
Asturias must resemble his mother. In that
event he will develop no Hapsburg lip, the
most conspicuous of the physiognomical char-
acteristics of the present King of Spain. Dar-
win refers to this lip, transmitted for centuries,
as an instance of "prepotency" — the capacity of
the male to hand down a deeply rooted pe-

culiarity— the features from the maternal side,
as Professor F. A. Woods notes, having no in-
fluence to counteract it. None the less, it was
for the sake of "the features from the maternal
side" that a marriage was arranged between
Princess Ena of Battenberg and his Catholic
Majesty. She is expected to bring into the
dynasty tendencies to counteract the mental
abnormality that is said by many genealogists
to be handed down with the Hapsburg lip.
Should the Prince of the Asturias grow up
with a long heavy under jaw, a sallow skin and
a mouth like his father's, he will be conspicu-
ous, as are so many of his ancestors, in text-
books on heredity as well as in text-books on
history. The disappointment of enlightened
Spanish statesmen would be extreme.
Authorized dispatches referring to "blue eyes"
and "light hair" in a babe fifteen minutes old
are, therefore, readily accounted for.

A S THE present King of Spain was nursed
■** by his mother, now Queen Dowager, the
fact that the Prince of the Asturias is to be
nursed by Victoria Eugenia herself constitutes
no such departure from precedent at court as
might be supposed. But the consort of Alfonso
XIII is an object of some suspicion to the

WHAT HE WAS BAPTIZED IN
The newly-born heir to the Spanish throne was
attired in this garment by his own mother, who was
still too weak to leave her bed.

THE NEW HEIR TO THE SPANISH THRONE

605

HOW THEY MADE THE CLOTHES FOR SPAIN'S NEW BABY

The orphan girls in the convents of Madrid knitted, crocheted and sewed, under the supervision of the
nuns, until they had a layette -so large that it filled six vans.

masses of her husband's subjects, partly on ac-
count of her English sympathies, but mainly
because of Carlist insinuations that her Cathol-
icism is insincere. Hence her Majesty has

A BOOTIES SHOW
Some of the knitted wear for the royal feet of the
Prince of the Asturias. Part of the layette was knitted
by the Queen Mother, who is an expert judge of yarns,
and whose eye is infallible^ in matching colors and
shades. The court of Madrid has always been noted
for the proficiency of its ladies in every kind of
knitting.

conformed with an almost pedantic precision to
what may perhaps be referred to without in-
delicacy as the etiquet of her condition. She
has prayed with ostentatious piety at innume-
rable shrines, she has permitted the preparation
of more tiny wardrobes by orphaned inmates
of convents than would suffice for an over-
populated foundling asylum, and she has sub-
mitted cheerfully to the publicity of procedure
which is so characteristic of the court of
Spain. Nothing is thought in European so-
ciety prints to manifest the English exclusive-
ness of the Queen of Spain so much as her
dislike of the democracy of manners and
methods in the palace at Madrid. She found
the company at her husband's dinner table
somewhat mixed, owing to the practice of eat-
ing in common which made every meal an in-
discriminate gathering of the King's dependent
relatives. Alfonso had to abandon the easy-
going ways of his bachelor life by breakfasting
alone with his consort and by sitting down to
dinner in uniform and decorations. Nor were
the high dignitaries of the realm admitted to
the Queen's bedchamber, after the birth of the
Prince of the Asturias, with the informality of
old. The law of the land compels the personal
attendance of the Prime Minister at the bed-
side of her Majesty, but this official duty was
reduced last month to the barest formality.
Nevertheless, the court of Spain, for all its
punctiliousness, remains the most democratic in
the world. The young Queen has too much good
sense not to accept philosophically a simplicity
of standpoint which permits hosts of strangers
to attend court functions without invitation

6o6

CURRENT LITERATURE

jVAUCH patriotic prejudice was occasioned
*-^*- by the importation of an English
physician and a staff of English nurses to at-
tend Queen Victoria. When it leaked out that
the whole of the royal nurseries at the palace
in Madrid had been refitted in English style,
the state of the national feeling can be com-
pared only with the affront to republican sen-
timent in this country when President Van
Buren introduced gold spoons into the White
House or when President Roosevelt sold the
old mahogany that had been left over from the
administration of President Pierce. As her
Majesty was known to have personally selected
the English curtains and the English carpets,
to have suggested herself the treatment of the
various rooms, and to have expressed herself
charmed and delighted with the result, there
were some disparaging comparisons between
the sometime Princess Ena and that lovely
Bavarian whom Alfonso would not marry.
Anger was not appeased by the Queen's un-
patriotic attitude towards the bassinet, which,
at the instigation, it seems, of the English

physician, her Majesty thought calculated to
deprive the baby of fresh air on account of an
overelaboration of trimmings and curtains.
The English physician and the English nurses
were on the point of departure from Madrid at
one time, it is said, owing to the inflamed state
of national sentiment. The English nursery
rhymes were quaintly illustrated in a frieze
which had to be condemned, like the Wilton
carpet from London, owing to the land of its
origin. These discords are alleged to spring
more especially from an intense dislike of Vic-
toria on the part of all the King's relatives.
They discovered a blot on her escutcheon in
the circumstance that one of her ancestors was
a mere gentleman-in-waiting. He ran away
with a grand duchess generations ago and had
to be ennobled for the indiscreet lady's sake.
The affair was revived by Alfonso's Austrian
connections at the time of the unfortunate
scruples her Majeety displayed on the score
of mixed company at dinner. But the Queen
has her friends who are able to retaliate in
matters of scandal.

WHERE THE COMPANY WAS TOO MIXED
In this dining;room of the royal palace at Madrid a delightful informality prevailed when Alfonso XIII
was a bachelor. The relatives of His Majesty dined, together, while the King sat anywhere and made himself
agreeable to everybody. When the King brought home his bride, she changed the etiquet with such regard
for precedence that the good old times are generally regretted.

DISLIKE OF QUEEN VICTORIA

607

A NURSERY THAT CAUSED IXTERXATIOXAL JEALOUSIES
This is the room in which the little Prince of the Asturias is to spend his days. It was fitted up by a
firm of English decorators to the great discontent of local Madrid firms. The friezes on the walls symbolize
English nursery rhymes, a fact that did not soothe patriotic susceptibilities.

T7OR the sake of a mean and little revenge
*■ the English element at court circulated a
story that the fortune of Alfonso's mother, the
Queen Dowager, had been stolen by her Aus-
trian relatives in Vienna. As every one is
aware, the Queen Maria Cristina is an Aus-
trian Archduchess, the Emperor Francis
Joseph being her uncle. The gossip is that
when the war between Spain and the United
States began, Maria Cristina sent her entire
fortune to her mother in Vienna. Since then
the death of her mother occurred, after which,
says one paper, Queen Maria Cristina vainly
endeavored to regain possession of her wealth.
Alfonso himself had hoped to benefit by his
mother's financial pilgrimages to Vienna. The
archdukes there had spent so much of Maria
Cristina's money on fast women and slow
horses that the King of Spain could not afford
to set a decent table. It is undeniable that
severe economies have been practiced of late
by the court in Madrid. The court in Vienna,
however, has been so incensed by the gossip
concerning the Queen Mother's fortune that a
formal denial has been given to the newspapers.
Immediately afterwards was instituted that
systematic press campaign which, it is averred.

has for its sole object the alienation of the
Spanish nation from its English Queen. She
was accused of detesting the Spanish language
— which, by the way, she speaks but slightly —
and of having spoken in terms of censure on
the subject of bull fights. The British ambas-
sador in Madrid declined to attend the great
bull fight in honor of the Queen's nuptials —
evidence, it was thought, that her Majesty had
little personal influence in London. The bull
used on the occasion was "evil eyed," that is,
it paid no attention to the red sash flourished
in its face by the espadas or killers. The ani-
mal singled out one noted torero and pursued
him all around the ring. Victoria, in bridal
finery, hid her face in her handkerchief. The
fighter leaped the barrier with the bull after
him, whereupon the Queen, who had never seen
a man gored to shreds, pleaded with the King
to end the scene. So goes the story. A cow
was brought into the arena, the bull went quiet-
ly out with it and one of the wedding festivities
ended ingloriously.

U* VEN the unexpected anticlericalism of
•*— ' King Alfonso has told against Queen
Victoria. It is accepted in many quarters as

6o8

CURRENT LITERATURE

direct evidence of that baneful English in-
fluence which had brought about the marriage.
The misunderstandings on this point were not
cleared up by the controversy which arose over
the appointment of the Queen's confessor. The
grave ecclesiastic originally selected for this
post was not a native Spaniard, and he had the
additional misfortune, from an anticlerical
point of view, of belonging to one of the re-
ligious orders. The religious orders are ac-
cused of not being Spanish at all. They are
recruited, according to Senor Canalejas, who
has long fomented anticlerical sentiment in the
Iberian peninsula, from the ranks of church-
men who have no "Spanish patriotism." The
question of her Majesty's confessor has occa-
sioned such conflict that it can only be settled
finally, it appears, by the Pope himself. His
Holiness has served the Queen well by pub-
licly asserting his belief in the sincerity of her
conversion to the faith. Victoria is likewise
on excellent terms with the Liberal politicians.
They think her English education and English
traditions will quicken the purpose of Alfonso
to be a constitutional ruler. Doubtless if he
chose he could make himself the absolute ruler
of his dominions. The Spanish people are
rather weary of political contests and would
acquiesce in a monarchy of the old Bourbon
type. Alfonso XHI, however, has no desire to
be a Ferdinand VH. His political education is
most modern. Every morning he reads the
newspapers, with the most important foreign
news carefully marked for him. He could pass
a good examination in such matters as the
separation between Sweden and Norway, the
Austro-Hungarian dispute, separation of
church and state in France, the last elections
in England and the relations of President
Roosevelt with powerful corporations. Al-
fonso Xni has seen a great deal more of Spain
than has any recent sovereign of the land. He
has manifested a sufficiently keen sense of
humor to delete from the ritual of an order
of Spanish chivalry every phrase according
him the ancient title of King of Mexico, the
Floridas and Peru.

*
* *

IJPURS clanged, sentinels stood at at-
tention and the palace guard rose as
one man when Theodore Golovin,
the loud-voiced yet discreet presid-
ing officer of Russia's second Duma, passed the
other day through the portals of Tsarskoe-
Selo. Nicholas H himself, whom Golovin —
quitting his noisy discrepancy of a national aS'
sembly, as Carlyle says — had come to see, de-

creed these honors. His imperial Majesty was
taking spectacular means of giving the lie to
gossips who make him out a hater of his
Duma. He had actually let it be known the
week before , that nothing could please him
more than to make the personal acquaintance
of any deputy who cared to solicit an audience.
Golovin, exhilarated by the pomp and circum-
stance of his reception, was nevertheless
dashed to catch sight of Stolypin, the Prime
Minister, grown lean of late, as hawk-eyed cor-
respondents report. President and Prime Min-
ister continued all last month that frigid
correspondence in which every European daily
sees the fate of the Duma hanging by a thread.
Should Golovin carry his point, that deputies
may listen without bureaucratic interference to
whomsoever they are pleased to interrogate
through a committee of investigation, Stolypin,
we are assured, must go. Stolypin, determined
that no Duma committee shall go un shep-
herded by himself when it wants facts or ad-
vice from experts, has forbidden his subor-
dinates to heed any summons from the depu-
ties. Golovin retorts that the Duma has been
reduced to imbecility. Such was the frame of
mind in which he now entered the presence of
his sovereign. Nicholas H was said to have
ranged himself on Stolypin's side. Golovin,
said the correspondents, had no standing at
court. The deference of the military as he
passed through the portals emboldened him to
lay the whole case before the Czar. Nicholas
graciously refrained from involving himself in
these dissensions. Golovin, we are assured,
played his trump card and lost the trick.

'T'HEY all met again — the Czarina of the lily
■*• throat and of the long-lashed eyes, Alex-
is, the three-year-old despot of Tsarskoe-Selo,
Nicholas n, fondest of fathers, stooping to be
kissed by his four grand duchesses, and Golo-
vin, constitutional but charmed. The parting
of Hector from Andromache was less touch-
ing, surmises the Journal des Dehats, grown
weary of the Duma, and characterizing it as
an unwashed, illiterate mob with a pedant
among them here and there. Golovin saw for
himself then and there, says the French daily,
that his Duma has no authoritarian Czar to
fight, no fanatical admirer of the past. This
Czar, embracing his little ones, was not jeal-
ous on the score of prerogative like Alexander
HI. Golovin was in the family circle of a
Nicholas H whose indulgent, liberal, perhaps
slightly indecisive, character suggests that he is
a reincarnation of his own grandfather. Nich-
olas H, the Paris organ ventures to think, has

Photograph oy Uniierwuod & Uiiderwood

THE ONLY REAL AUTOCRAT LEFT IN RUSSIA
This is one of the latest photographs of the three-year-old heir to the throne of the Romanoffs, the Tsare-
vitch Alexis. He is one of the brightest of little boys, and if the gossip of the month be accurate, he is to go
this year with his mother on a visit to his royal relatives in Darmstadt. The little Alexis has had a serious
attack of the whooping cough, according to one story, altho another rumor was that he had been attacked by
diphtheria.

6io

CURRENT LITERATURE

Photo(fraph by Underwood & Underwood, New York

A CONSTITUTIONALLY INCLINED AUTOCRAT
This correctly describes the present attitude of the
Czar Nicholas II, Czar of all the Russias, towards the
Duma, according to a well-informed writer in the Jour-
nal des Debats. His Imperial Majesty last month re-
ceived the speaker of the Duma, Theodore Golovin,
who reports His Majesty in good health. This photo-
graph was taken aboard the Czar's private yacnt, in
which he makes trips down and up the Baltic with his
consort and children.

the disposition of a constitutional king, as
Golovin, for whose edification the heir to the
throne of Russia beats a tiny drum, must have
realized vividly. Only languidly interested in
great political questions, totally destitute of
autocratic ambitions, modest and gentle, ab-
sorbed in the felicities of the domestic circle,
Nicholas II relinquishes the responsibilities of
office to a Prime Minister, or, if you will, to
a "mayor of the palace" or "grand vizier" and
goes for a romp with the children. In his
sterner moods he addicts himself to humani-
tarian practices — the promotion of peace at
The Hague, for instance. Golovin saw all this
in what, to the French daily, must have seemed
his most delightful hour on earth. To a
wrathful terrorist organ which, owing to the
activity of the censor, must get itself printed
in Switzerland, the truth can only be that
while the Prime Minister collects troops with
which to scatter the Duma and the deputies
ponder the agrarian crisis, the Czar has noth-
ing better to do than mind the children.

NO ADVANTAGE will be taken of mere
pretexts to dissolve the Duma, if Golovin
correctly reported the Czar to the deputies who
thronged about their presiding officer when he
appeared again in the Tauride Palace. No
"arbitrary measure" — in Stolypin's sense of
that elastic term — is contemplated now. None
will be entertained later. Golovin, who pro-
fesses to believe the Czar a man of his word,
seems convinced that this pledge was given in
good faith last month by Nicholas II. "But,"
runs the authorized interpretation of the im-
perial attitude, "if the nation's representatives
themselves give real grounds for a dissolution,
that will naturally be interpreted as a sign
that the chamber itself no longer desires to ad-
dress itself to legislative work." Work could
not be less legislative than that to which the
chamber addressed itself when the deputies at
last realized that this was a hint. Alexinsky,
friend of the working man, leader of the So-
cialists, idol of St. Petersburg's proletariat,
shouted the Russian equivalents of these-
words: "Blood! Revolution! Death!" It was
the day of the great debate on political assas-
sination. The Duma had been asked to con-
demn it. The motion was lost. The efifect on
Tsarskoe-Selo was discouraging. Nicholas II
infers that the Duma is swayed by agitators of
the Alexinsky type.

A LEXINSKY inspires those deputies of
•**• whom Stolypin complains that they keep
the population of the slums in every city in-

THE UNCERTAIN LIFE OF THE DUMA

6ii

flamed by parodying the oratory of the French
Revolution whenever the Duma tries to legis-
late. Alexinsky organized a strike some weeks
ago in a St. Petersburg factory employing hun-
dreds of his own constituents. The police
clubbed indiscriminately. Alexinsky, who, of
course, has heard of the French Revolution, lik-
ened the officers of the law to the mercenary
Swiss surrounding the august person of Louis
XVI. Socialist cheers at this were deafening.
Allusions to what went on in Paris so long ago
are excessively unpalatable to Stolypin. They
upset the Czar. Alexinsky and his following de-
light in them. Golovin can not protect debate
from their maneuvers. He owes his seat to
the so-called "cadets" or constitutional demo-
crats whom Alexinsky loathes. Golovin, while
impartial, presides in the spirit of his party,
which displays moderation and self-effacement
with the object of preserving the Duma, of ob-
taining a working majority and of turning the
struggle into constitutional channels. This, to
Alexinsky, means the capture of the Russian
revolution by the middle-class type of solidly
respectable business and professional men —
the transformation, to use his own rhetoric in
the Duma, of a military hell into a factory hell.
But what of a Socialist hell? Pourishkevitch
put that conundrum. This reactionary leader
in the Duma exemplifies the humorous mind
working in complete unconsciousness of its
own rare gift. His best performance was a
loud appeal to the deputies to stand up with
bowed heads for five minutes as a sign of
mourning for Plehve, the Grand Duke Sergius
and other martyrs to the terrorist abomination.
Pourishkevitch, whose name is made Pouryn-
kevitch in some dispatches, retorts to Alexin-
sky's shout of "Blood !" by roaring "Long live
the Czar !" until Golovin is quite hoarse from
vain admonitions that the pair are out of
order.

'X'HAT brilliant but unequal speaker, Rodi-
■■■ cheff, leader of the cadets — who, had he
been born an Englishman, says the London
Post, would have had a remarkable career in
the Commons — undertook the management of
the deputies on the floor after a caucus of his
group in which Golovin seemed to have lost all
hope of the Duma. Rodicheff, as the events of
the month are summed up in the Temps,
proved unequal to the emergency. As a
speaker he charms. The most turbulent depu-
ties hear him gladly. He has studied parlia-
mentary procedure long and thoroly. He is
genial to Alexinsky, unruffled by Pourishke-
vitch, polite to Stolypin, whom he caught in

Photograph by Underwood & Underwood, New York

THE MOST DEVOTED MOTHER IN THE WORLD
In such enthusiastic terms does a recent visitor to
Tsarskoe-Selo refer to the Czarina, whose photograph
is here reproduced. She spends hours of every day in
the nursery of the little Tsarevitch Alexis, who has an
English nurse, like each of his sisters, the four grand
duchesses. The Czarina regularly inspects the food her
children eat, tasting every dish before it is set before
them.

6l2

CURRENT LITERATURE

what one correspondent calls a lie before the
whole Duma, but he gets nowhere. Judged by
results, Stolypin's policy of excluding first-rate
men from Russia's national assembly vindi-
cated itself last month to the bureaucracy that
put it into effect. Pourishkevitch went so far
as to organize a deputation of peasants at the
head of which he was to invade Tsarskoe-Selo
and beg the little father to dissolve the Duma.
He grew so noisy when expatiating on the
patriotism of this undertaking in the Duma
that Stolypin was forced to repudiate him.
Word was sent to Pourishkevitch that Nicholas
II would not receive the unkempt illiterates
whom the loud reactionary was bringing to the
capital by every train. But a delegation of
those bewildered peasants who find themselves
members of the Duma was welcomed at Tsars-
koe-Selo with emotion and cigarettes.

stitutions, in which, as Professor Kovalevsky
indignantly says, the men worth listening to
dare not speak.

*
* *

HAD the Prime Minister really wished to
act with the Duma he would, according
to Rodicheff, have consented some weeks ago
to act with the cadets. They number a bare
fifth of the deputies, but they are the backbone
of what is styled the center, the men of mod-
eration. Rodicheff implores them in every
caucus to speak no more than is absolutely
necessary. They have heeded him. Teslenko,
famed for his defense of friendless men and
women sent to jail for reading what they
please, is a brilliant debater, but he has held his
tongue, tho Alexinsky declaimed socialism and
Pourishkevitch denounced freedom of the
press, while Krushevin, flourishing his horrible
paw, shouted that the cadets had sold them-
selves to the Jews. Thus has the Duma, as the
Kreuz Zeitung of Berlin remarks, become dis-
orderly, incoherent, the paradise of the ex-
tremist. Struve, author of the most important
work on economics written by a Russian, altho
he is but thirty-six, is said to have inspired
this Fabian policy of the cadets. He, like
Rodicheff, is not on terms of cordiality with
Stolypin, but he predicts that the Prime Min-
ister will soon come to terms with the center.
There is no other course but dissolution,
which, says, Struve, would mean a peasant up-
rising so sanguinary that the troops could not
suppress it were they loyal, and they are not.
Knowing this, Stolypin seemingly hesitates to
send the deputies back to their people just yet.
He is upheld for the moment by the courtiers
and priests to whom Nicholas II still listens.
When Stolypin acts with Rodicheff, with Tes-
lenko and with Struve — a thing unthinkable to
many observers — the Duma will be something
more than a caricature of representative in-

ERUSAL of that flood of comment
on things American with which
the newspapers of Europe have
been filled for the past month sug-
gests that they receive their inspiration
from William Randolph Hearst, from Eu-
gene V. Debs, or from one or the other of
those agitators who insist that the twentieth
century has witnessed a breakdown of demo-
cratic institutions in this republic. Nothing
that Mr. Hearst says of the ruthless exploita-
tion of the poor by the rich in the United
States is more vehement than various utter-
ances to the same effect in organs of British
opinion as weighty as the London Spectator,
the London News and the London Outlook.
Nor is current comment in the press of conti-
nental Europe a less piquant commentary on
Macaulay's famous prediction that by the end
of the nineteenth century a hungry American
proletariat would be devouring the wealth of
millionaires. What Europe thinks it sees is
the exact opposite of this. Even the conserva-
tive Kreuz Zeitung of Berlin has been citing
the wrongs of the poor in our country as proof
positive that Republican institutions are a fail-
ure. In the antipodes we have the Melbourne
Argus, a serious and comparatively moderate
Australian daily, affirming that the United
States is "a stumbling block to the friends of
liberty." A writer in the London Mail gives
utterance to what, without exaggeration, may
be termed the unanimous view of educated
Europe, when he states that "the machinery
does not exist in the United States for making
a man of wealth and influence conform to the
laws of the land." To what extent this con-
sensus of foreign press opinion corresponds
with reality is irrelevant to the present pur-
pose. The definitely established fact is that to
the rest of the civilized world the United States
is a land in which, to employ a favorite phrase
of our native agitators, "the poor man has no
chance against the rich." The continental
European conviction that wealthy American
women are unchaste is not firmer than the
general European belief that the republic ad-
ministered from Washington is a sham.

/^UR courts of law happened during the four
^^ weeks last past to come in for those cen-
sures which European dailies ordinarily re-
serve for the United States Senate, for the

AN ALLEGED BREAKDOWN OF AMERICAN INSTITUTIONS 613

American railroad system, and for those finan-
cial cliques which are believed to have a vested
interest in the corruption of our municipal gov-
ernments. As the Neue Frcie Presse of
Vienna is tempted to think, the source of our
difficulty is twofold. First, there is the busi-
nesslike view we take of everything. "Imag-
ine," it says, "what must be the state of the
public mind when it can be seriously main-
tained that an official should conduct the gov-
ernment of a great city just as if it were his
private business. This, nevertheless, is the at-
titude to public affairs of many otherwise en-
lightened men in America, to whom democratic
government is nothing more than a branch of
business like selling groceries at wholesale."
Another source of our difficulty is described in
the Vienna daily as the right of the judges to
interfere with the executive and the judiciary.
Theoretically, it explains, the three branches,
executive, legislative and judicial, are inde-
pendent. Practically, the judiciary can, "when-
ever it pleases," nullify the acts of the law-
making body and paralyze the arm of the exec-
utive. "Nothing is more remarkable than the
regularity with which the American courts
throw the administration of the country into
confusion by interference with its procedure
at every stage." To the Kreuz Zeitung it
seems clear that our system of government is
being undermined by the courts. They are
controlled, it says, by vested interests. "There
is very little publicity," we read, "in the acts
of the courts of law in the United States. The
most important decisions are announced, it
may be, from the bench, but the real work is
done behind closed doors. There is not even
a pretense of doing justice. All is made to de-
pend upon the pedantic technicalities of the
moment." It repeats approvingly the remark
of an English paper that in our courts "justice
and common sense are sacrificed to procedure"
whenever that conduces to the advantage of a
wealthy litigant. The obvious moral that mon-
archical institutions are vastly superior to the
system of government prevailing in the United
States is drawn by the inspired organ of the
Wilhelmstrasse.

THE breakdown of American justice, as the
London Mail deems it, accounts for that
loss of confidence in courts of law which, it
fears, is "the most serious political fact" our
statesmen have to deal with. It traces the diffi-
culty to an inefficiency of American judges
generally, "which no one denies," and to the
great importance attached to mere technical-
ities when it is a question of "some great cor-

poration on the one hand and an elementary
principle of popular government on the other."
The use of the writ of injunction is, says a
writer in the London Post, "a flagrant scan-
dal." No English court, says this conservative
daily, "would pervert the writ of injunction
with such indifference to every consideration
of fair play" as federal courts have done "time
and again." The American lawyer it describes
as "the hanger-on of corporations." No man
of wealth has any fear of the law. "The su-
perior courts in America," chimes in the Lon-
don Outlook, "do not ask, when an appeal is
taken to them, Is the judgment just? but Is
there any error of whatever kind in the pro-
ceedings of the trial court? If there is, the
presumption of prejudice exists at once, and
the whole case has to be tried over again. It
is this fetish-worship of forms and rules that
has made the judicial procedure of America a
menace to society." This menace has taken
the form of predatory wealth to which the
courts are subservient, and of indifference to
human life which makes the United States
show a far higher proportion of murders to
the million inhabitants than any other country
in the world except Italy and Mexico — "and
America is the only land where the number of
murders is actually on the increase."

IN THE past twenty-seven years, as the fig-
■■■ ures are given in the various European dail-
ies which have gone into the subject, the num-
ber of murders and homicides here was over
132,000. The executions were 2,286. "In 1885
the number of murders was 1,808, and in 1904
had increased to 8,482. But the number of
executions had increased only from 108 in 1885
to 116 in 1904." Nothing to the London Out-
look seems more remarkable than the indiffer-
ence of the American judiciary to the scandals
growing out of this condition of things. "Just
as they have overelaborated the machinery of
politics until democracy is bound and helpless
in its toils, so they have magnified the mere
technicalities of the law until justice has been
thrown into the background and lost sight of."
"Thus it is that we find such absurdities," adds
the London Mail, "as that of the United States
Supreme Court, the highest tribunal in the
land, reversing a judgment because the record
failed to show that the defendant had been
arraigned and had pleaded not guilty. Thus,
only a few months ago, a re-trial was ordered
in one case because the cross examination of a
witness extended somewhat beyond the exam-
ination in chief; and a conviction was set aside
in another because the prosecuting attorney

6i4

CURRENT LITERATURE

said some things in his speech to the jury that
the appellate court thought he ought not to
have said; and in a third case, by reason of
some wholly immaterial error, a court felt con-
strained to reverse a judgment v^^hich in the
same breath it declared to be absolutely just."
An even worse disgrace, the London News
charges, is "the practical denial of justice" to
men, women and children "mutilated by hun-
dreds" in the streets of our large cities through
the operation of street-car systems. It is prac-
tically useless, avers the English paper, to
bring suit against the offending corporations.
"If the case is ever reached during the lifetime
of the unhappy plaintiff, it will be either
thrown out of court on a technicality or de-
cided in the court above on some fine consti-
tutional point that has nothing to do with con-
siderations of justice, fair play or common
sense." A writer in a leading London review
cites the case of a boy in Cleveland, Ohio, in-
jured in a collision ten years ago. The litiga-
tion went from court to court until the lad at-
tained his majority, thus invalidating every-
thing decided before.

the United States. This spectacular achieve-
ment will be seen to be quite exceptional if we
compare a businessman's opportunities of get-
ting from, say, London to Manchester or
Plymouth with the regular service from New
York to Washington or Boston." Cars on our
railroads are built with indifference to consid-
erations of speed. Our system of dealing with
baggage is "irritatingly slow," altho, in our
provincialism, we think it modern. Indeed, the
notion of the average American that his coun-
try is ahead of Europe in business methods, in
ideas and in moral standards seems to this ob-
server, as to others in Europe, an amusing
kind of infatuation. "The enterprise of a busi-
ness-house appears to exhaust itself in lavish
advertisement." The actual process of attend-
ing to the wants of customers and of filling
their orders takes more than twice the time
necessary in Europe. The incompetent em-
ployee who fills in his time somehow or some-
where, regardless of results, is supervised by
a chatty manager with a cigar in his mouth.
The actual amount of work done in a business
day is trivial.

I N THE light of such alleged facts, it seems
* to more than one European commentator
that the reputation of the Americans as an effi-
cient people is possibly imdeserved. Elaborate
consideration is given to this point by that care-
ful student of things American, Mr. H. W.
Horwill, in the London Monthly Review. After
paying his respects to American courts in the
typical foreign fashion of to-day, Mr. Horwill
pronounces us as much behind time in our rail-
way system, in our journalism, in our modes
of transacting business, as we are in our juris-
prudence. "The quality of the means of com-
munication in any country is a fair test of its
regard for economy of time. In this matter
America makes a poor showing indeed. The
director of the office of public road inquiries,
an officer in the department of agriculture, has
declared that the United States has probably
the worst system of public highways of any
civilized nation of the first class. It has been
demonstrated that it costs more to move a
bushel of wheat ten miles over an American
country road than to transport the same bur-
den five hundred miles by railway or two thou-
sand miles by steamship." Our railways are
pronounced a caricature of what they ought to
be. "To run an eighteen-hour express from
New York to Chicago — a distance of 912 or
980 miles, according to the route taken — is a
brilliant feat, but it is of practical value to only
a very small proportion of railway travelers in

PROGRESS has its superficial signs, but "it
•*• is still the conditions of the first part of the
nineteenth century that meet the eye" of the
foreigner in the United States. The courts are
choked by methods of procedure obsolete for
generations in England. The railroads are
thirty years behind the age in every accessory
to good service. "Few of the most up-to-date
cities have a postal service equal to that de-
scribed by Sir Walter Besant as existing in the
London of 1680." The street cars collapse
daily in the impotence of their worn-out meth-
ods to meet the problems presented by twen-
tieth-century conditions. "At public meetings
everywhere one encounters a tiresome and
elaborate ceremonial that was probably brought
over in the May/lower." The express com-
panies give so poor an imitation of what goes
by the name of transportation in Europe that
the business development of the country is re-
tarded. "Even the tunes sung in the leading
city churches are those whose linked sweetness
long-drawn-out have been forgotten in Eng-
land since the days of our grandfathers." Yet
why is it not possible to transform "leisurely
America," as this observer calls it, into a land
less Spanish in its general inefficiency, less
antediluvian in its methods ? The explanation,
we are told, lies in the average American's
conviction that his country is up-to-date al-
ready, "his belief that the speed with which a
thing is done and incidentally its efficiency,

DISPARAGING VIEWS OF THE HAGUE CONFERENCE

615

may be measured by the noise made in doing
it." American activity of every kind may be
summed up as "whirr and buzz." American
trains are noisier than those of Europe; there-
fore they must be faster. There is more
racket in New York than there is in London ;
New York is consequently ahead of London.
But it is useless to tell the Americans these
things. Nothing can alter their firm conviction
that the United States is the most progressive,
the most modern and the most businesslike
nation in the world.

*
* *

jT ought to be more generally under-
stood, says the Independance Beige
(Brussels), that the coming peace
conference at The Hague is to
deliberate in secret. There need have been
no sensation over last month's announce-
ment of a possible withdrawal of the
German delegates if Great Britain insisted on
discussing disarmament. The British Prime
Minister, according to one positive announce-
ment, had yielded sufficiently to Berlin pres-
sure to give up the whole question of disarma-
ment. ■ Thereupon Mr. Joseph H. Choate, as
head of the delegation from the United States,
was instructed to bring the subject up anyhow.
The facts are, as they are given in the Belgian
daily, that no power has refused to discuss
anything, not even disarmament. But disarma-
ment is an academic proposition. The prac-
tical question is that of limitation of arma-
ments. Emperor William's representative,
Baron Marschall von Bieberstein, has been in-
structed to inform the conference that Ger-
many will never submit the size of her army
or of her navy to the vote of an international
parliament. Should the Russian Nelidoff be
chosen to preside permanently over the assem-
bly, it will be an easy matter to patch up a
compromise between the Germans on the one
hand and the British on the other. Were it
not for Nelidofif, it is likewise maintained, the
Czar would have postponed the peace confer-
ence even at this late day. Emperor William
would appear to have written to Tsarskoe-Selo
an urgent request to this effect. "Another
English lie," says the Kolnische Zeitung. If
the conference lasts two months, says the
Kreuz Zeitung, we may expect the "usual in-
cidents of an international gathering of the
powers" — British insinuations that Berlin is
plotting against the influence of Washington in
South America, British hints that Emperor
William is about to capture a coaling station
in the Caribbean, and British suspicions that

ADOPTED
— Philadelphia North American

the German Emperor is subtly victimizing the
President of the United States. "It is the old
game, and practice makes the English perfect
at it."

FLASHING attaches sauntering in uniform
^-^ along the beach at Scheveningen, con-
scienceless hotel-keepers robbing all foreigners
at the Dutch capital, and obese banqueters
gorging themselves on turtle soup and cham-
pagne, comprise the only realities of The Hague
to the Novoye Vremya. The conference, it is
quite certain, is already irrevocably doomed to
failure. Choate and Porter, from America,
would be known in their own country as "dead
ones." Bourgeois and d'Estournelles de Con-
stant, from France, are dreamers. Fry and
Satow, from England, are messengers. Von
Kaposmere, from Austria-Hungary, is a cipher.
Fusinato, from Italy, is an echoer of French
peace platitudes. One might go through the
entire list of delegates without finding the
name of a really great diplomatist, with the
exception of Baron Marschall von Bieberstein.
The second-rate reputations of the delegates
have been the subject of some comment in the
Journal des Debats. The conference, we are
asked to infer, is to be made up of men who
will take orders submissively, men without suf-
ficient force of character to arrive at any great

6i6

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE CONSTITUTIONAL FATHERS OF THE NEW BRITISH EMPIRE
These are the colonial prime ministers, and others who assembled in the "Imperial Conference" that ad-
journed after stormy sessions in London last month. The great figures are easily recognized. General Botha, of
the Transvaal, stands in the middle row, third from the spectator's left. Bond, of Newfoundland, the determined
enemy of this country, stands with the monocle in his vest in the middle row at the extreme right of the spec-
tator. Sir Joseph Ward, Prime Minister of New Zealand, sits in the front row, second from the spectator s
right. Sir Wilfrid Laurier, Canadian Prime Minister, is seated third from the spectator's right in the front row,
the only man with a cane. Asquith, the famous chancellor of the exchequer, sits in the front row at the spec-
tator's left, with an umbrella. Lloyd-George, the famous enemy of the House of Lords and pillar of the ministry,
is at the extreme right, front row. Deakin, the Australian Prime Minister, is likewise in the front row, his hat
in one hand, his umbrella in the other. Lord Elgin is the man with the white beard in the front row. The Eng-
lish Winston Churchill stands in the middle row at the extreme left of the spectator.

decision. Yet how the world has been wrought
up over this assemblage of marionettes!

*
* *

HROUGH his refusal to attend the
dinner given by Whitelaw Reid, our
ambassador to England, in honor of
the colonial premiers who recently
terminated their conference in London, Sir
Robert Bond, Prime Minister of Newfound-
land, emphasized the anti-American char-
acter of what we are now to call "the
imperial conference." This anti-American-
ism first asserted itself in the attitude of
Sir Wilfrid Laurier, Prime Minister of the
Dominion, who is very fond of saying that,
altho the nineteenth century was that of
the United States, this twentieth century is
that of Canada. Canada will discriminate
tnrough her tariff against this country and
in favor of Great Britain. Prime Minister
Deakin dwells more on the idea that the im-
perial conference assembled in London to ac-
complish for the British empire what the Phil-
adelphia convention of 1787 accomplished for
the states of this union. It was reserved
for the Prime Minister of Newfoundland to
urge that the British Empire, as a whole, make

the quarrel of the Gloucester fishermen with
the port authorities of St. John's its own. He
has impressed his somewhat pugnacious per-
sonality upon London with such definiteness
that the various colonial prime ministers are
affirmed to have wondered whether England's
next war ought not to be with this country.
Sir Robert Bond detests the United States for
what seems to him its domineering attitude in
this burning fisheries issue. Ever since the
colonial, or, as we must now term it, the im-
perial conference, got down to work, he has
harped upon the anti-American string. He is
of Devonshire stock, the descendant of genera-
tion after generation of hard-headed mer-
chants. He has been in Newfoundland politics
ever since he was twenty-six, and he is now
fifty. His father made a princely fortune in
Newfoundland commercial enterprises. Sir
Robert leads the life of a territorial lord in the
colony over which he holds almost imperial
sway, and he makes no concealment of his con-
viction that London should use the British
navy in the settlement of the fisheries dispute.
To be invited to dinner by our ambassador
was to Sir Robert Bond what the Austrian
summons to surrender must have seemed to
the young Napoleon when he entered Italy.

Persons in the Foreground

TAFT

HAT are we coming to in this coun-
try? Hughes at Albany refuses to
play politics and Taft refuses even
to talk it. Yet political success
seems to be dogging the footsteps of each
much as Bill Syke's ill-treated cur insisted on
sticking to the master who kicked him in the
ribs every time he came near. Refusing to
make any political bargains or enter into any
deals, Taft has, nevertheless, according to all
the newspaper reports, seen most of the opposi-
tion to him in Ohio collapse, and the man who
announced the fact to the world was that same
George B. Cox who was gently lifted from
his firm seat in Hamilton County not long ago
by a deft movement of the Taftian boot.
"The President is all right, he is," said John
L. Sullivan the other day, after an interview
at the White House, "and so's his Ohio
featherweight, Taft. You know all real big
men are all right if you let 'em alone. They
will take a lot, just stand for a good deal,
until they get going — but when they do get
started they go like h — ."

With Theodore Roosevelt of New York, John
L. Sullivan of Massachusetts, and George B.
Cox of Ohio all for Taft, what can Fairbanks
or any other Republican hope for in the way
of a presidential nomination next year?

The Taft literature continues to grow apace,
and the Taft portraits are almost as numer-
ous as those of Roosevelt. One of the most
interesting sketches of Taft, especially of his
career in the Philippines, appeared several
weeks ago in Collier's from the pen of Fred-
erick Palmer. Mr. Palmer was in Manila
when Taft first arrived there. He and a num-
ber of other newspaper men had an interview
with the new proconsul the day after he
landed. They went in a spirit of pity in-
spired by a sense of their superior knowledge
of the difficulty of his position and the assur-
ance that he was destined to speedy failure.
After they had seen the big man and heard
his infectious laugh, "shaking the bilious
kinks out of tropical livers," they were sor-
rier for him than ever. Here is what one of
the most homesick and cynical said to the
others after the interview:

"We ought to ship this splendid fellow back.
It's a shame to spoil his illusion that folks the

world over aren't just like the folks he knows out
in Ohio. He makes me think of pies, hominy,
fried chicken, big red apples, Mr. Dooley, frosty
mornings, oysters on the half-shell, the oaks and
the pines, New England tov/n meetings, the little
red schoolhouse, cyclopedias on the instalment
plan, the square deal, and a home run with the
bases full—out here where man wears his shirt
outside his breeches to keep cool in midwinter,
picks his dinrer off a banana tree out of the
window, conceals his bolo and his Mauser and his
thoughts behind the smile of friendship var-
nished with Spanish manners, and is in the Four
Hundred if he can sign his name with a scroll.
Oh, but wasn't the Judge and his laugh good, and
won't he be easy for them !"

At first, we are told, the natives took him
for a big, joyous Prince Bountiful and made
a network of plots about him. They thought
he was generous because he was afraid they
would make a row and elect Bryan. But he
saw through all their plots smilingly, and they
soon learned that behind the good nature was
the judicial mind with an ingrained respect for
law. He did not lie to them and they learned
that it was best not to lie to him. Mr. Palmer
tells this little tale :

"One day an old presidente of an interior vil-
lage, who had observed the world well when he
went to Manila and framed his observations into
philosophy on his veranda, drew a straight line in
the sand with his walking-stick. Then he made
rnany curves — the play of his own people's pas-
sions— crossing and recrossing it. Then he
spread out his hands to indicate an enormous
man. By grimace and tone and gesture he made
this man turn to right and left palavering; he
rnade him laugh ; he made him thunder ; he made
him pat a child on the shoulder and box a child's
ears; he made him 'Boom-boom!' as he called
in the army, and 'Sh-sh !' as he sent the army
to the rear. Then the venerable presidente re-
drew the straight line in the sand and said:
Taft !'

"'An honest man!' the old gentleman added.
His manner of speaking was not of a manifesta-
tion that was rare, but of a discovery; of a
new thing in the world, a thing which he himself,
even in his superior wisdom, could not square
with reason. For he half thought that Taft was
foolish. But still that straight line of the law-
giver was so dependable beside the bribed par-
tiality of other days and the vacillation of insur-
rectos that he was practically, if not sentimentally,
content with American rule."

Taft's size was in his favor with the Fili-
pinos, and gave him an Olympian weight in
their councils. And it helped him at a ban-
queda to dispose of viands set before hjm in a

6i8

CURRENT LITERATURE

way to dispel all lurking doubts in the minds
of his entertainers. He worked sixteen hours
a day, and when at last, as was inevitable,
he broke down and had to go to the hospital
for a while he learned by heart these lines of
Kipling :

"Now it is not good for the Christian's health to

hustle the Aryan brown,
For the Christian riles and the Aryan smiles, and

he weareth the Christian down;
And the end of the fight is a tombstone white

with the name of the late deceased,
And the epitaph drear: 'A fool lies here who

tried to hustle the East.'"

The Taft laugh Mr. Palmer terms "one
of our great American institutions," and the
man's appearance is one never to be forgotten
by any person who has seen him :

"It is good to see Big Bill Taft enter a room
after a number of other men. He reminds you
of a great battleship following the smaller ves-
sels, coming into port with her brass bright,^ and
plowing deep. You feel that when a giant is so
amiable it would be impolite not to agree with
him; and, moreover, it would be unwise, consid-
ering that the power of the United States is be-
hind him. Foreigners have observed that he
looked like the United States personified, what-
ever they mean by that. With his smile and his
inflexible purpose he has managed to keep the
gun covers on when a smaller man might have
had to take them off. Besides, he does give the
impression that if he did begin firing it would be
in broadsides to the bitter end; and that helps
in any negotiation."

From Mr. Creelman's article in the May
Pearson's we quoted last month, but it is
worth returning to for this personal descrip-
tion:

"Sitting at his table in the War Department,
Mr. Taft is an impressive and agreeable figure.
His mighty bulk goes well with his height, his
wide, square shoulders, massive bones and big,
strong head.

"Beneath the full, splendid white forehead jut-
ting out at the brow there springs a great aqui-
line nose — a signal of commanding force that is
confirmed by the broad, strong jaws and aggres-
sive chin — and on either side shine steady, clear
^lue eyes.

"Mr. Taft's eyes are unusually large and of a
singularly beautiful color. The flesh enfolds them
slitwise with odd little creases and wrinkles at
the corners, but when the lids lift one gets a
strange suggestion of serene power and simplicity
in the flax-blue depths, as of the soul of a man
looking out of the eyes of a boy.

"It is a tremendous body, not merely in
weight, but in its evident power, for when the
Secretary of War moves across the room the
walk of him is not elephantine, but swift,
light, certain, and those huge arms can strike a
crushing blow. He was the wrestler of his class
at Yale, and many a man remembers the terrific
lurches of that giant figure in the college rushes.
Nor has any man seen Mr. Taft dance without a

feeling of astonishment that one so ponderous can
move so lightly.

"His skin is smooth and delicate in texture,
and his dark hair curiously fine, thinned above the
forehead and partly bald at the crown.

"A large tawny-gray mustache sweeps upward
and outward from a good-natured, humorous
mouth that can suddenly open wide and utter
Gargantuan laughter or as suddenly pale and
draw down into a formidable sternness.

"Sometimes, when Mr. Taft drops his head for-
ward and sidewise, his facial resemblance to
Grover Cleveland is startling; but when he raises
his countenance the suggestion vanishes instantly;
you see how much finer is the modeling of the
nose, how much clearer, larger, deeper and more
wide-set the eyes; how much more suave, pol-
ished and genial the personality."

One phase of Mr. Taft's career is likely to
become of considerable interest in the near
future if he becomes the Republican candidate
for president. When he was a judge of the
Superior Court of Cincinnati, before he went
to the Philippines, he had a number of cases
to decide that pertained to labor unions and
their contests with employers. In one case —
Moores & Co. versus the Bricklayers' Union —
he sustained the lower court in fining the
union for conspiracy to injure the plaintiffs.
He enforced an injunction compelling Chief
Arthur, of the Brotherhood of Locomotives, to
abandon a sympathetic strike against the
Toledo, Ann Arbor & North Michigan Rail-
way, and in the great Pullman strike of 1894
he caused the arrest, for contempt of court, of
J. W. Phelan, one of the lieutenants of Eugene
V. Debs. Phelan had organized a strike
against the Cincinnati Southern Railway, and
counseled violence. Taft sentenced him to six
months' imprisonment and said:

"The gigantic character of the conspiracy of
the American Railway Union staggers the im-
agination. The railroads have become as neces-
sary to the life and health and comfort of the
people of this country as are the arteries of the
human body, and yet Debs and Phelan and their
associates proposed, by inciting the employees of
all the railways in the country to suddenly quit
their service, without any dissatisfaction with the
terms of their own employment, to paralyze utter-
ly all the traffic by which the people live, and in
this way to compel Pullman, for whose acts
neither the public nor the railway companies are
in the slightest degree responsible, and over
whose acts they can lawfully exercise no con-
trol, to pay more •v^ages to his employees. . . .
The purpose, shortly stated, was to starve the rail-
road companies and the public into compelling
Pullman to do something which they had no law-
ful right to compel him to do. Certainly, the
starvation of a nation cannot be a lawful pur-
pose of combination, and it is utterly immaterial
whether the purpose is effected by means usually
Inwful or otherwise."

Mr. Debs, thus excoriated together with
Phelan, is, it will be remembered^ one of the

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

619

men whom President Roosevelt recently de-
nominated "undesirable citizens," and he is
now stirring up the feeling of labor men in re-
gard to the Moyer-Haywood trial. On this
subject of Debs, therefore, as on most other
subjects, Mr. Roosevelt and Mr. Taft seem to
be in accord. Mr. Creelman speaks of their
personal relations as follows:

"Considering the sharpness - of their tempers
and the inflexibility of their ideals of duty, there
is something unusually interesting in the deep,
unbroken friendship which prevails in the rela-
tions of Mr. Taft and President Roosevelt. They
are like unsophisticated schoolboys when together,
each apparently under the spell of a romantic
affection, a strong, simple sense of knightly com-
panionship in the great field of moral errantry and
patriotic adventure.

"They were chums when Mr. Roosevelt was
a National Civil Service Commissioner; and in
that decisive hour when, as governor of New
York, Mr. Roosevelt won the honor of Wall
Street's opposition by championing the franchise
tax law, it was to Mr. Taft he went for advice
and soul-support. Even when Mr. Roosevelt was
vice-president he wrote an article for The Out-
look in which he declared that Mr. Taft com-
bined the 'qualities which would make a first-
class president of the United States with the
qualities which would make a first-class chief
justice of the United States.' "

A special correspondent of The Evening

Post thinks that one important reason for
Taft's success in dealing with Latin-American
peoples is that he is blessed with sentiment.
To illustrate that trait, the story is told of his
taking time at the close of each day's work
when he was solicitor-general to dictate a long
letter to his old father (who had filled the
. same office years before), giving him a detailed
account of the day's doings. And here is an-
other story from the same correspondent show-
ing Taft's thoughtful regard for his aged
mother, who is still living:

'.'One evening last fall, in Cuba, when all the
correspondents, Cuban and American, had gone to
Mr. Taft at the American legation to learn the
result of the day's- negotiations, there happened a
simple little thing, unconsciously done, that left a
deep impression. All of the men crowded into the
small room where Mr. Taft sat looking out of one
of the long French windows that opened towards
the sea. He looked tired and drawn. When the
crowd of writingmen had arranged themselves in
a rough semi-circle in front of his desk, Mr. Taft
beckoned to the representative of a Boston paper,
on the outer edge of the crowd, to come around
and sit beside him. 'I am anxious that this young
man should hear everything,' he said in explana-
tion of his partiality. 'He writes for the only
paper that my mother reads, and I like her to
know what I'm doing down here.' There was
something fine in the unconsciousness and sim-
plicity of the man's speech and attitude of mind."

THE SOVEREIGN LADY OF THE HAGUE CONFERENCE

EREMPTORY indeed must be the
orders of her physicians before
Wilhelmina Helena Paulina Maria,
head of the Orange-Nassau dynasty,
sovereign of the Netherlands, recalls her
pledge to beautify the inauguration of The
Hague peace conference with her own gracious
presence. • The twin turrets and the lofty
gables of that Hall of the Knights within
which reduction of armaments and questions of
neutrality are to be discussed for the next two
months behind closed doors, still ring with the
hammers of carpenters. There have been all
sorts of delays, many questions of etiquet.
Shall the delegates go to the Queen in Het Loo
or is her Majesty to proceed in state to the
southeastern side of the Vyver, where, in the
Binnenhof, stands the ancient brick pile soon
to house a parliament of man? In any event,
the blue-eyed, self-willed Queen is the only
woman in the world who has any official con-
nection with the proceedings of The Hague
conference. Her royal robes are ready, the
hotel-keepers are charging nine prices for
everything, the center of the Dutch capital,

where stand the chambers of the States-Gen-
eral as well as the Hall of the Knights, is al-
ready bedecked with flags and her Majesty's
physicians grow thoughtful.

Nothing, however, justifies an inference that
the Queen of the Netherlands is an invalid.
There have been rumors of some weakness of
the lungs. .Much has been made of lines that
persist about the wide yet pleasing mouth, of
dark rings beneath the royal eyes. The world
even hears, from time to time, of domestic in-
felicities. One American novelist, seeing her
Majesty ride by in a barouche, has been writ-
ing recently of "a beatific vision" and of "a
boy heart" that "went out in worship to the
pretty young creature." From other sources
one derives ideas of a woman with a will of
her own and no hesitation in asserting it, a
Queen fully capable of managing a consort far
more refractory than Prince Henry of Meck-
lenburg-Schwerin. The American impression
of a poor little Wilhelmina cowering beneath
the brutalities of the man she asked to marry
her is extremely curious to those residents of
The Hague who understand the sort of disposi-

620

CURRENT LITERATURE

tion for which the house of Orange is cele-
brated. For Wilhelmina is a true daughter of
the house of Orange. The Queen's mother,
that most obedient of parents, has proclaimed
this more than once.

Wilhelniina's own consciousness of possess-
ing a pedigree that dates from the eleventh
century is said in German dailies to make her
attitude to the royal house of Sweden a little
supercilious. The personal relations between
the house of Orange and the house of Berna-
dotte — which dates only from 1810 or so — are
cool in consequence, it seems. The mother of
the reigning Queen of Spain is quoted as hav-
ing said once upon a time that she would
rather marry a crossing sweeper than a Mar-
quis of Lome. Much to the same effect is a
remark put into the mouth of Wilhelmina on
the subject of a Bernadotte. "Norway has at
least put a gentleman on her throne," said her
Majesty when Haakon was made ruler of that
country, a remark interpreted in some German
dailies as a reflection of a most personal kind
with reference to one venerable monarch.
Here, however, we are warned by Dutch or-
gans against that systematic campaign of mis-
representation of which Wilhelmina is made
the victim by German press champions of her
husband. She has, it is conceded, the Orange
firmness of purpose — German dailies call it
obstinacy — and some impetuosity of speech —
they refer to it as a hot temper across the
Rhine — but how generous she is ! Very,
chimes in the Frankfurter Zeitung, retailing a
characteristic anecdote in which the Queen is
made to insult one of her maids of honor and
later send the young lady a silk handkerchief
in assuagement of the exacerbation. Wilhel-
mina has one of the largest private fortunes in
Europe, derived from exploitation of the D'utch
East Indies, and quite independent of control
by the States-General, yet her displays of gen-
erosity rarely exceed the cost of a box of
candy. Thus a German daily, inspired, we are
assured, by her husband's relatives.

In this twenty-seventh year of her age Wil-
helmina retains much of that girlishness of
form and face which first won for her pout-
ing artlessness the world's admiration and for
her sorrows the world's tears. She was never
large enough to look majestic, but she is still
young enough to look ravishing in the Fries-
land national costume she loves. Her Majesty
has the large, round and slightly protruding
Orange chin, but she is totally lacking in the
well-known Orange characteristic which
caused the most renowned of her ancestors to
be called William the Silent. The ungallant

Frankfurter Zeitung deems her the most talka-
tive woman in Europe, omitting to mention
a mitigating circumstance referred to in the
Paris Figaro — the Queen's voice, namely, is
very musical. Apart from her lack of reti-
cence, Wilhelmina's physical and personal
characteristics are all typically Dutch. She
has a Dutch width of shoulder, a round Dutch
profile, a Dutch placidity of manner — when
things are going her way — and a gracefully
Dutch mode of skating. Holland, Queen Wil-
helmina is quoted as having declared, is para-
dise. Dr. Kuyper, the eminent Dutch states-
man, ventured to remark that the country has
no stone, no coal, no iron, no timber. "This
country," replied Wilhelmina, "has me." The
thing to note, observes the German daily from
which this anecdote is clipped, is that Wil-
helmina made the remark with perfect seri-
ousness. She is never forgetful of her own
immense importance to Holland. When, five
years ago, the Queen lay on that sick bed from
which it semed certain she could never rise,
her Majesty's physician in ordinary, feeling
the patient's pulse, declared that the crisis
was over. "God," murmured the Queen in a
faint whisper, "is very merciful to my peo-
ple." The story may be invented, but it is
said in German dailies to fit her Majesty's
character like a glove.

A nature of this kind is not the material
out of which the most submissive of spouses
can be fashioned. Whether, as some French
dailies say, Wilhelmina, in virtue of her sov-
ereign rank, had to make the proposal of
marriage to Prince Henry, or whether, as
some German dailies tell us, her Majesty mere-
ly sent his Highness word that she was going
to marry him, he was speedily involved in
the same difficulties of prerogative which tend
at times to strain the Queen's relations with
the responsible rulers of her kingdom. Wil-
helmina has exalted notions of her royal au-
thority. She is said to interfere in a most
personal way with the conduct of Dutch for-
eign relations. She looks upon the Dutch
colonies as, in some sort, the private appanages
of the house of Orange. Her prodigious per-
sonal popularity with every class of her sub-
jects saves her from some of the consequences
of her unconstitutional tendencies. The prince
consort asserted himself as a husband. Wil-
helmina defied him in the capacity of a Queen.
She was upheld by several elegant and agree-
able young gentlemen of noble birth who had
been wont to skate with the young sovereign
in her maiden days. One was her military
aide-de-camp, another was her master of the

THE LAST OF THE HOUSE OF ORANGE
Her Majesty VVilhelinina, Queen of the Netherlands, is typically Dutch in every physical and personal char-
acteristic. She has a Dutch width of shoulder, a clean-cut Dutch profile, exquisitely curved where curves are
essential, a Dutch placidity of manner when things are going her Majesty's way and a gracefi'Uy Dutch mode
of skating.

622

CURRENT LITERATURE

hounds, and all were ready to shed the last
drop of their blood for Wilhelmina.

Now the Queen, while continually looking
from herself down to her husband instead of
from herself up to him, is credited with be-
holding the Prince Consort not as he is de-
picted in newspaper dispatches but as one
sanctified in her idolatrous fancy. He may be
unworthy of a good woman's love — any man
is — yet she loves him, as we may affirm on the
excellent authority of the Paris Figaro, be-
cause she loves him. Nor is Prince Henry of
Mecklenburg-Schwerin, to do him justice, in-
sensible to the fervor of an attachment so dis-
interested as to single him out as love's elect
among all the available princes in the world.
But in place of that timid flexibility and soft
acquiescence which in some of Wilhelmina's
moods make her the most pliant of her sex,
the Prince Consort (after the wedding) found
— something else. Matters were not mended
by the fact that the daughter of the house of
Orange was not the woman to throw herself
for forbearance upon the tenderness of him
she loves. "The Queen," runs one of the
dispatches in which these annals of the reign
are preserved for posterity, "was annoyed at
some inattention on the part of her husband
and employed a harsh word." The Prince
lost his temper. The military aide-de-camp,
intervening with the best intentions, no doubt,
was invited to confine his attention within the
strict limits of his own concerns. A challenge
ensued, there was a duel immediately after

dinner, a second one after breakfast the next
morning, and the young gentlemen in the
Queen's suite concluded thereafter not to in-
terfere between man and wife.

This, we are told on the authority of those
who are in a position to know the facts, is the
only basis for a widespread belief that the
domestic life of the Queen of Holland is un-
happy. The love of so sensible a woman as
Wilhelmina, says the French paper already
quoted, could never have been won by a man
who would marry her for her position, treat
her like a brute, and abandon her like a profli-
gate. Not so many weeks ago the Queen, of
Holland publicly expressed her deep sense of
the honor conferred upon her consort by his
investiture with the grand cross of the Bath
in recognition of the courage and humanity
he displayed when he rescued the survivors
from the wreck of the Berlin. His Highness
then did much more than merely bestir himself
in organizing the work of rescue. He went
himself in the pilot boat that brought many of
the saved to shore. "The hearty cheers with
which he was greeted by the crowd on his
return," comments the London Times, "and
the spontaneous demonstration with which he
was received at The Hague, show how thor-
oughly his conduct was appreciated by the
Dutch." There is a growing belief, in short,
that Prince Henry is a much maligned man.
His debts, represented in a Paris paper as
enormous, do not, according to the Oldenburg
^M^^'^^r, well informed and trustworthy, exist.

A STUDY OF GOVERNOR HUGHES AND HIS METHODS

HERE is a new kind of politician in
Albany. His name is Charles Evans
Hughes, and his political method
has proved as perplexing to the old-
timers as that latest creation of the baseball
pitcher, the "spit ball," has been to adepts of the
national game. But the simile is a little awry.
The "spit ball" fools the batter because its
course to the bat is such a sinuous one. Now
take a baseball player who has been brought
up on "spit balls" and has never seen any-
thing else delivered from the pitcher's box,
and it is reasonable to assume that a straight
pitched ball would rattle him badly. That
seems to be the situation at Albany. The pro-
fessional politicians are use.d to batting
curved balls. They know all about them. But
now comes a man who pitches a straight ball,
and at once they begin "pounding the air" in

inefifectual efforts to "get on to the curves"
when there are no curves.

Governor Hughes is still an experiment.
The people who are talking about him — Henry
Watterson for one — as the next Republican
candidate for President are a little premature.
Governor Hughes is still a new man, and
just how he and his methods will work out in
the long run at Albany remains to be seen.
That he has the sympathy and the confidence
of the people so far is reasonably certain ;
but it is probable that no man ever went into
the gubernatorial mansion at Albany with less
political experience and less personal knowl-
edge of politicians and their tricks. That
would be a fatal handicap but for one thing:
he isn't trying to play politics. H he were,
he would be beaten. As it is, he is getting
along beautifully and learning rapidly.

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

623

A study of the man's ideas and methods
since he entered public life is worth while.
Personally he is not magnetic. The impres-
sion he first gives is that of sternness, gravity,
reserve and cold intellectuality. He is called
"academic" by many. But it is not the gravity
of pomposity or the reserve of exaggerated
self-importance. He does not pose. And those
who approach him without ulterior purposes
in view find, as one newspaper man puts it,
that "no man has a readier smile or more
cordial greeting." All the newspaper men
speak well of him, and no men exist quicker
than they to discern pettiness and hypocrisy
and personal vanity. They are a pretty cyni-
cal lot, and when they praise a man unanimous-
ly it is a good sign that he is "on the level.''
"It seemed quite impossible," says one of them,
"to associate the name of Hughes with any
popular movement, he was so reserved and dig-
nified. His temperament is judicial. But after
he was nominated and got fully into the swing
he astonished old campaigners by the ease
with which he picked up the mixer's tricks and
how cleverly he availed himself of all the ex-
pedients of popularity." He has a kindly
blue eye and an inviting smile. His person-
ality is far from being repellant, and he can
indulge in fetching pleasantries in an after-
dinner speech. But the man's future will not
depend upon personal magnetism. It must
depend upon his intellectual ability and the use
to which he puts it. An examination of his
utterances during the last few months shows
very little rhetoric and no disposition to be
carried away or to carry others away with an
oratorical glow. He is never impassioned and
he never exaggerates. But he has fixed ideas
and he is evidently going to stand by them.

Here is one of his ideas that frequently ap-
pears: "We know that the safety of the coun-
try depends not on law, not upon schemes of
legislation, but upon the self-imposed restraint
that honorable men will feel, and by which
they will be guided." It was Ruskin who de-
clared that the cornerstone of the temple of
civilization is not liberty but self-restraint.
That seems to be Mr. Hughes's idea also. In
another speech he said:

"Now college men must not confine themselves
too closely to what they can get out of the
world. The one important thing, it seems to me,
is that men with the advantages they have had
shall come into active life with the idea not so
much to succeed, but how they shall succeed.
Education implies restraint. Without disciplined
judgment no man is educated. Restraint makes
a man hesitate in order to form an accurate con-
clusion, while the undisciplined rush madly into
folly."

Another saying that he is fond of is to the
eiTect that "it is not the man who gets to the
corner first that succeeds, but the man who
knows what to do when he gets there." "We
may need to drive fast," he says again, "but
we mustn't drive fast without knowing where
we are going," and he tells the story of Pro-
fessor Huxley's jumping into a cab and tell-
ing the driver to hurry. As the latter whipped
up his horse Huxley asked where he was go-
ing. "I don't know," said the driver, "but I'm
driving fast."

He may be academic in marly of his tastes,
but he has none of the pessimism that too fre-
quently stemps the academician. Governor
Hughes says: '

"When we take account of the signs of the
times do we find occasion for discouragement?
Not at all. There never was a time when an
American could walk with greater pride than at
this hour. We have had serious scandals, but
there was an honest sentiment of the American
people which demanded their disclosure. The
evil existed, but it was not condoned. The criti-
cisms which came forth unanimously from one end
of the country to the other indicated the whole-
someness of American sentiment. The business
men of the United States desire to conduct their
business honorably. There are no higher stand-
ards of business morality in any country than
those we have in the United States. There is no
place in the world where men more keenly desire
justice and desire right living. And I think that
upon some of our leaders in the financial world
there is beginning to dawn the idea that they
must take the people into partnership in their
great enterprises."

Now there is no eloquence in that sort of
talk, no brilliancy or flash; but for that very
reason it has a ring of genuineness in it, and
the genuineness, too, not of an emotional out-
burst, but of an intellectual conviction that has
staying qualities. "No party and no leader of
a political organization," he has said, "shall
dare take the position that there is anything
above honorable service to the state." But his
idea of honorable service is not the playing of
politics. The most sensational thing he has
done as governor was the most simple and di-
rect thing. All the newspapers were full of it a
few weeks ago, and the politicians were repre-
sented as aghast. He found three rooms at
the Capitol set apart for the governor's use,
one large outer room and two smaller inner
rooms. All his predecessors had used the large
outer room for public hearings, receptions of
delegations and so forth, and the innermost
room for the transaction of the real business
of the office and interviews with "leaders."
Governor Hughes found the inner room too
stuffy to suit him, so he calmly transferred his
place of business to the outer room, where

624

CURRENT LITERATURE

everything is done in the open and where the
poHticians who have things to say to him must
sit down and say them in a semi-pubHc way or
leave them unsaid. He still uses the mner
room when he wishes to be alone to work out
some problem, but he sees all callers in the
outer room. It is very embarrassing for some
of his visitors. Here is an account of a visit
from a county leader :

"With uncertain glance at the Governor, he
approached and assumed a bluff air of familiarity.
Instantly the lines around the mouth of the
Governor tightened. He seized the proffered

'"What can I do for you?' he asked guardedly.

" 'Oh, I want to see you in private about a
matter up our way,' and the boss directed an in-
quiring glance toward the inside room.

'"Sit down,' invited the Governor, indicating
a chair two feet from his own and seating him-
self before his caller could recover himself. The
latter sank into the chair uneasily. The Governor
with an encouraging smile waited for him to
begin.

" 'Why, er — er Governor, there are some mat-
ters about politics and legislation I want to talk
to vou about in private.'

""'Oh, well, go ahead,' said the Governor, look-
ing directly at his caller. 'No one will interrupt
us here. But I think you have come to the
wrong place about legislation. I am not a mem-
ber of the Legislature.'

" 'Oh, well, you know, I understand that, you
know — know,' and the boss was visibly discon-
certed. He looked around the room, noted the
proximity of half a dozen men who had come
in and ranged themselves on the sofas and chairs
along the south wall and began to talk with
obvious embarrassment. He didn't say one-half
he intended, nor in the way he meant.

"The Governor listened attentively, nodded only
to indicate that he understood, but did not make
any direct statement or comment. And when the
political boss awkwardly shook hands with him
and faded through the door his cigar was bunched
in one of his hands and he looked sheepishly at
the other men waiting for an audience."

It is not hard to understand why such a vis-
itor goes away dissatisfied. Here is another
account of a similar kind. A delegation had
called and had been attentively listened to as
its spokesmen stated their purposes and desires :

"It was not a matter that could be settled off-
hand. The Governor said it would have prompt
attention. The delegation bowed and moved
away. As it neared the door, one of its mem-
bers, a smart little man, a politician trained in
the 'private-ear' school of statecraft, darted back
to the Governor, who had not yet sat down.

" 'Now, Governor,' said this wily little man,
'I know a lot about this thing that you ought to
hear. I'll be glad to let you have all the facts
whenever you want them. I'd like to talk with
you about it.'

"The Governor looked his returned visitor
over. The Governor is the politest of men.

" 'There is no better time than the present,'
said he. 'I want to get all the facts at this time,

so that the matter may be disposed of finally when
we get the documents bearing on the subject.'

"Now, wasn't that fine for the crafty little man?
It was just what he had been looking for. He
almost hugged himself for joy. He thought of
those less-accomplished politicians who were filing
through the doorway. He had the Governor's
ear. Then —

" 'Messenger, call back those gentlemen^ who
are leaving the room,' said the Governor. 'They
will be glad to hear what you have to add to what
has already been said,' he continued, turning to
the sharp little man beside him. Back came the
delegation, surprised and wondering; and what
the acute member who had been so proud of him-
self a few moments before had to say did not take
long in the telling."

It is this sort of thing that inspired the muse
of John Kendrick Bangs to break forth into
verse :

"O woe is me ! O woe is us —

That it should come to pass!
That gum-shoe King Politicus

Should go at last to grass!
It is the dee-dash-darnedest thing

That ever we did see!
A Governor a-governing

At ancient Albanee."

This direct and open way of doing things is
novel, but in it lies the only chance of success
for a man who is not trained in politics and
who knows enough not to try the game with
professionals. "I was not elected to play
politics," he says, and "I have not played poli-
tics. I was not elected to build up a machine,
and I have not sought to build up a machine.
I was not elected to satisfy any private grudge
or to make appointments to satisfy political or
personal ambitions, and I ha-ve not done these
things. There is nothing in the whole admin-
istration of government more important than
that the people should feel that every one en-
tering the Executive Cham.ber will receive the
same consideration there, regardless of
whether he happens to be of the same political
faith as the temporary occupant of the Gover-
nor's chair or not."

It is far easier to walk a straight line. Gov-
ernor Hughes insists, than to find one's way
through a labyrinth. And so it is — for him.
But other people find it a very trying task. That
fact, however, he does not think should swerve
him from his course. "Disagreeable and un-
pleasant as it is for me at times to run counter
to the free and generous and human way of
dealing with matters of importance," he says,
"I am confirmed in my belief that the true plan
is to solve each question by itself when pre-
sented, to the end that honest and efficient gov-
ernment may be secured. That is what the
people want. At any rate, that is what I pro-
pose to give them."

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

625

President Faunce, of Brown University,
tells in The World's Work something of the
character of this strange politician at Albany.
Mr. Hughes is a Brown graduate. Says Presi-
dent Faunce: '

"Young Hughes entered college poor in purse,
with no influential friends behind him, with no
athletic or social prestige, but with the blessing
of a sturdy. God-fearing ancestry, and an in-
tensely alert and eager mind. His father — still
living — was an honored clergyman, and the boy
was brought up to revere the simple, homely vir-
tues which have formed the substance of Ameri-
can character. Yet it was very clear that he would
not choose his father's profession. Tho of
stainless character, he was thoroly unconven-
tional in his mode of life, and had a touch of
that Bohemianism which among students is so
frequently the mask of profound moral serious-
ness. He never hurt himself through over-study.
He was intellectually a rover, wandering at will
through vast tracts of English and French litera-
ture, and easily the best read man' in his class.
He managed to take high honors in scholarship,
but without any visible effort. His desk was
piled high with works of fiction, for his curious
and restless mind was reaching out into sym-
pathetic relations with all sorts and conditions of
men. To-day his library is crowded with the
writings of Darwin, Tyndall, Spencer and Hux-

ley, and the novels have gone by the board.
Both the fiction and the science he devoured for
the same reason — his desire to understand and
interpret the dominant impulses and achievements
of his own age."

The word which most nearly describes Mr.
Hughes, says President Faunce, is "well-
poised." His life-long habit of analysis has
given him a rare self-control and equanimity
in the presence of novel and unexpected devel-
opments. Further :

"In speaking, all his sentences are the unfold-
ing of one thesis; in action, all his deeds are
part of one deliberately chosen policy. Both
President Roosevelt and Governor Hughes have
been misjudged, and for similar reasons. Because
Mr. Roosevelt is swift in physical action, he has
been called 'impulsive' ; and because Mr. Hughes
is deliberate and dignified in physical movement
he has been pronounced 'academic' The Presi-
dent's long deliberation over his policies is gradu-
ally being recognized by the nation; and when
the people understand Mr. Hughes they will
recognize in him one of the swiftest minds and
most intense natures now in public life. But his
long legal training and natural poise make it im-
possible to catch him off his guard. He may be
mistaken or wrong; but he will never leap before
he looks."

THE POPE'S LOEB

HOULD it turn out true, as so many
newspaper correspondents in Rome
are predicting, that Pius X will re-
lieve Cardinal Raphael Merry del
Val of the post of pontifical secretary of state,
the whole Vatican must mourn its most eligible
scapegoat. For this youngest and most con-
spicuous of all the members of the sacred col-
lege performs for his Holiness that function
of bearing the blame for every embarrassing
situation which renders William Loeb, Jr., so
comforting to the President of the United
States. There would be peace now between
France and the Vatican, say the enemies of
Merry del Val, were it not for the blind in-
tolerance of the pontifical secretary of state,
even as there never, according to some, would
have been any mention of "undesirable citi-
zens" if Mr. Loeb were not concerned with
presidential correspondence. When a Michi-
gan iDrewery sent Mr. Roosevelt sixty bottles of
beer, Mr. Loeb had to endure the censures of
the Woman's Christian Temperance Union.
When a case of anticlerical wine was admitted
to the Vatican, it was easily demonstrated that
Cardinal Merry del Val must be at fault. Out
of the flutter occasioned by the publication of
the Rooseveltian countenance in certain "Fads

and Fancies" grew the theory that Mr. Loeb
had mislaid important letters. When the
French bishops talked in conference of agree-
ing to separation of Church and State,
Cardinal Merry del Val plunged a republic
into uproar by conveying wrong impressions
to the Pope. It has been affirmed in Life that
Mr. Loeb feels seasick whenever the President
is at sea, and it is maintained by the Figaro
that if a dog bit the Pope the pontifical secre-
tary of state would hurry to the Pasteur In-
stitute. Now, it is rumored, Mr. Loeb is soon
to retire from his responsible position, and a
successor to Cardinal Merry del Val may soon
be in office.

Anticlericals, to whom the foundation of the
cardinal's character is cold ability beneath a
superstructure of mystic enthusiasm, deny that
the Pope is now the real ruler within the
Vatican. His sovereign function, to quote the
Paris Action, has been usurped by the Anglo-
Spanish aristocrat who stands unctuously be-
tween the faithful and the country priest whom
the last conclave made infallible in questions
of faith and morals. Merry del Val, says the
Rome Avanti, overreaches the tenacious and
sensible but ingenuous old man of seventy-two
whose simple piety and kindly humor can not

626

CURRENT LITERATURE

cope with Machiavellian subtlety incarnate. A
peasant by birth, the Pope has never traveled;
his secretary of state has lived on terms of
intimacy with princes at three splendid courts.
Pius X inspires affection in all who approach
him; Cardinal Merry del Val is the most un-
popular ecclesiastic at the Vatican. His Holi-
ness speaks an Italian flavored with provincial-
isms, and he knows enough Latin to compre-
hend the breviary. Here, apart from some
little understanding of written French, the
Pope's linguistic attainments come to an end.
The pontifical secretary of state speaks Eng-
lish perfectly; French equally well; Italian as
a matter of course; Spanish necessarily, for
he is a subject of his old pupil Alfonso XIII ;
Flemish, for he learned it in Holland ; German,
Portuguese and even Bohemian. The sover-
eign pontiff is unceremonious, informal, plain
of speech, prone to mirth. The cardinal stands

flL ^^M

JH^^MU 'U^^^Bf "^B^^

W^Q

eIm

^^■R

THE NEGLECTED I'REDECESSOR OF MERRY
DEL VAL
Cardinal Rampolla, who held the post of pontifical
secretary of state under Leo XIII, is the greatest
possible contrast to the present incumbent of that
office. Cardinal Rampolla is conciliatory in method,
whereas Cardinal Merry del Val believes in uncom-
promising firmness. The one is of mature years and
a statesman, whereas the other is young for a cardi-
nal and indifferent to political considerations of every
kmd.

upon etiquet, speaks reservedly, smiles polite-
ly, bows like a consecrated Beau Brummell,
and is always well groomed. The Pope is un-
learned. The cardinal's amusements are
scholarly and intellectual, his Latin hexam-
eters scanning exquisitely. Every visitor to
Rome is eager to' see Pius X. All men strive
to make their intercourse with Merry del Val
as brief as possible. In these points of differ-
ence, insist all anticlericals, lies the explana-
tion of the young man's sway over his elder.

Yet this pair, when one consults such sym-
pathetic interpreters as the Paris Gaulois, seem
scarcely less compatible than Horatio and
Hamlet. That amenity of disposition which
once led the Pope to write a little
book advocating politeness in priests makes
him most sensible of the suavity with
which the most conspicuous cardinal at
the papal court can say the disagreeable
things that must be put into words for a
reforming pontiff. Pius X has no diplomacy,
and he therefore leans upon an ecclesiastic
steeped in its traditions. Moreover, Giuseppe
Sarto, emerging from the conclave as Pius X,
found the original irksomeness of his imprison-
ment within the Vatican humanized by the
companionship of Merry del Val. The car-
dinals in permanent residence at the Vatican
had been shocked by the failure of one of
themselves to attain the supreme dignity. Their
attitude was one of restraint toward the inter-
loper from Venice who had been set in au-
thority over them. The French, the Austrian,
the peninsular cardinals drifted back to their
dioceses one by one. The simple and unlet-
tered rustic who had succeeded the greatest
statesman of his age as ruler of the universal
church had no one with whom to share his
solitude but a stranger in the Vatican, like
himself, a man who had been unexpectedly
thrust at the last moment into the secretaryship
of the conclave — Monsignor Merry del Val.

This youthful ecclesiastic — he was then
thirty-eight — had been dispatched upon one or
two diplomatic missions in the previous pon-
tificate only to signalize that incapacity to in-
spire personal enthusiasm which tells against
him so heavily to-day. But for the sudden
death of a far more popular ecclesiastic. Merry
del Val would not have been chosen as secre-
tary of the last conclave, he could not have
established himself on terms of intimacy with
the former Patriarch of Venice, and perhaps
he might never have entered the college of
cardinals at all. The handicap of his career
has always been that in what country soever
he dwells he is called a foreigner. The Span-

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

. 627

Stereogiaph copyrighi by Underwood & Underwood

THE SCAPEGOAT OF THE VATICAN
His Eminence Raphael Cardinal Merry del Val, pontifical secretary of state, is here seen at his desk
in the Vatican, with the typewriting machine in the use of which he has grown expert. The cardinal is the
youngest member of the sacred college and the least popular. He is held responsible for every disagreeable
result of that policy of firmness towards France which distinguishes the present pontificate from the more
suave methods of the late Leo.

iards call him an Englishman, the English say
he is Spanish, while the Italians insist that he
is half Irish. The fact is that the mother of
Cardinal Merry del Val is an Englishwoman
of Spanish origin, who, reared a Protestant,
became a convert to Catholicism when she
married the secretary of the Spanish embassy
in London.

It is to a most aristocratic and extremely
beautiful mother that the cardinal owes the
distinction — unprecedented in a pontifical sec-
retary of state — of having been born in Lon-
don. The lady, who is still alive, and who is
said to anticipate with confidence her son's ele-
vation to a far more prodigious dignity than
Vatican traditions might seem to render likely,
was deemed in her day one of the most charm-
ing belles of the diplomatic circle in Queen

Victoria's capital. She is related to half the
British peerage, and she has transmitted to her
son the expressive dark eyes and the extreme
refinement of features which make his grace-
ful presence so noteworthy in all ceremonial
observances at the Vatican. On his father's
side the cardinal is not quite so well born. The
paternal Merry del Val has considerable estates
near Madrid, and he belongs to a family which
enriched itself by commercial enterprises in
one or two of the sometime Spanish colonies.
But from a courtly Madrid point of view he is
not well born at all, altho he had quite a career
in the diplomatic service of his country. The
cardinal's parents live in retirement on one of
the elder Merry del Val's large properties in
old Spain. Both are quite well-known figures
at the papal court, which they visit from time

628

CURRENT LITERATURE

to time — occasions which make evident hovr
scrupulously the pontifical secretary of state
obeys the divine command to "honor thy father
and thy mother." When, at the first consistory
of Pius X, Monsignor Merry del Val received
the red beretta, the aged parents of the newly-
created cardinal were overcome by emotion as
they kneeled side by side for his benediction.

As the son of a woman of fashion and with
the advantage of having a rich father, the
young Raphael Merry del Val acquired accom-
plishments of a somewhat more elegant kind
than are usually associated with the ecclesiastic
character. He was early taught to fence and
to ride. At the court of Brussels, to which the
elder Merry del Val was transferred as Span-
ish Ambassador, Raphael's seraphic type of
boyish beauty made him the pet of royal dames
before he had entered his teens. But his
vocation to the priesthood asserted itself quite
early. He studied at St. Michael's in Belgium
and at St. Cuthbert's in Britain and, when he
was scarcely twenty, he entered the college of
noble ecclesiastics — the institution at Rome in
which the diplomatists of the Vatican receive
their training, and of which Raphael Merry del
Val was destined in due time to become
principal.

Those who knew the young man from this
period of his career until the court of Austria
declined to receive him in the capacity of
nuncio agree in reporting him always cold, un-
demonstrative and extremely Puritanical in his
mode of life. It is unthinkable, according to a
writer in the Neue Freie Presse, that Merry
del Val has ever, in the whole course of his
life, indulged in any form of gross pleasure,
because all things gross disgust him. An aris-
tocrat to the finger tips, he is strong by nature,
brave in character and gentle in everything.
As a youth in the seminary he began that regu-
lar system of fasting which at one time seemed
to have undermined his health, and which he is
said to have enforced upon the students in the
college of noble ecclesiastics until those nun-
cios of the future went about in a condition of
semi-starvation. No one disputed the purity
of his private character, the beauty of his
holiness, the soundness of his scholarship or
the genuineness of his humility ; but few indeed
could get in touch with him because he never
displayed the indispensable human failings.
His whole life is and seems ever to have been
one incessant discipline. He has a stipulated
hour of the day for prayers, another for cor-
respondence, another for recreation. He can
not be induced to exceed his invariable allow-
ance of wine at dinner or to take a walk at

nine o'clock when his schedule prescribes noon.
The minutest action of his day must obey
some rule. The hugest joke could not make
him laugh beyond a certain well-bred limit.
He has the type of character to which the
English refer when they say of a man that he
is not "clubable." He would look very lonely
in any club. He has no intimates. He never
expands. He can not, apparently, lose his tem-
per or be improper or seem anything but cool
on the hottest day in Rome.

Upon the femininity of his mind was based
much protest by the leading Roman Catholics
in England when the late Cardinal Vaughan
asked the Vatican to make Merry del Val his
coadjutor as Archbishop of Westminster, with
the right of succession. The late Pope Leo
Xni, who highly esteemed the elder Merry del
Val when that diplomatist represented Spain
at the Vatican, took so great an interest in the
career of the son that he would have granted
Cardinal Vaughan's request but for the strong
representations of the Duke of Norfolk. How-
ever, Monsignor Merry del Val was sent to
represent his Holiness at the coronation of Ed-
ward Vn, to the intense amazement of Irish
Roman Catholics. They complained that the
young ecclesiastic had come to hear the King
swear down the mass as superstitious and idol-
atrous. This episode, together with a suspicion
that the marked English sympathies of his
Eminence prejudice him against the cause of
Home Rule, have not added to his prestige in
Ireland. In Spain, where he was sent by Leo
XIII as one of the tutors to the young King,
Merry del Val made himself disliked by his
marked avoidance of bull fights. He was
accused of prejudicing his Majesty against a
noble national institution. So much may be
affirmed on the authority of the Madrid Epoca.

By its persistence in accrediting him to the
court of the most pious Roman Catholic sov-
ereign in Europe — that of Francis Joseph —
the Vatican occasioned fresh personal humilia-
tion to an ecclesiastic whom Ireland suspects,
whom the English would not have, whom
Spain got rid of, and whom all France reviles.
Count Goluchowski caused Cardinal Rampolla
to be informed that Vienna would in no cir-
cumstances receive Monsignor Merry del Val
in the character of nuncio. Leo himself urged
that as the son of a former Spanish Ambassa-
dor in Vienna, as a favorite guest of the late
Archduchess Elizabeth, as one of the precep-
tors of his Catholic Majesty, and as a legate
of the sovereign pontiff who had borne a car-
dinal's hat to an Austrian prelate, Monsignor
Merry del Val ought to be a welcome acquis!-

PERSONS IN THE FOREGROUND

629

tion to the diplomatic body in Vienna. Count
Goluchowski based his objection upon the fact
that Merry del Val was not an Italian. This
was absurd on the face of it. Pius IX sent a
Pole as nuncio to Brussels and another Pole
has since been appointed in the same capacity
to Paris. Instances of the refusal of a pro-
posed nuncio had not occurred for a long time
prior to the respectful declination of Merry
del Val, which made what is known as "a pain-
ful impression." Nobody dreamed that in a
very few years the all-powerful Cardinal Ram-
polla would have to make way for this despised
and rejected of ecclesiastics, and that Merry del
Val was to dictate Vatican policy to a chan-
cellery that sets great store by it.

The slightest acquaintance with the true
character of Cardinal Merry del Val reveals
the absurdity of the French anticlerical con-
tention that his Eminence is devious and a liar.
The pontifical secretary of state has not the
type of mind that condescends to prevarication.
He never voluntarily broke a promise in his
life or deliberately uttered a misrepresentation.
Such is the verdict of an anticlerical corre-
spondent of the Neiie Freie Presse who has
studied him with discrimination and who is in
a position to denounce the absurdity of the
allegation that the cardinal concealed from the
Pope the real sentiments of the French hier-
archy in the matter of separation of church
and state. Cardinal Merry del Val has all the
straightforwardness of the Englishman with
much of the well-bred Englishman's self-efface-
ment of manner. The temperament which
makes him dislike the American practice of in-
discriminate handshaking renders him disdain-
fully reticent when his good faith is questioned.
Equally unworkable, we are told, is the hypoth-
esis that a mind in many respects so feminine
as that of Merry del Val could dominate a na-
ture so virile as the Pope's. Each, in his way,
is a strict disciplinarian, each is severe in
his judgment of heresy, each has great respect
for every kind of recognized authority. The
Pope has an administrative mind of the cre-
ative type. The cardinal attends to details
requiring close attention and concentration.
As the Gaulois prefers to put it, the Pope
thinks and the cardinal remembers.

Merry del Val is the first pontifical secre-
tary of state since the loss of the temporal
power to spend any money on Castel Gandolfo.
This papal villa, hidden on the balmiest slope
of all the Alban hills, has recently been con-
nected by telephone with the Pope's suite in
the Vatican. The warm weather brings Car-
dinal Merry del Val regularly to Castel Gan-

dolfo, altho no pontiff has set foot inside the
place since Pius IX departed from it in 1869.
The bedroom of that first of the prisoners of
the Vatican is maintained to-day just as the
venerable old man left it so many years ago.
The decoration of Cardinal Merry del Val's
study, dating from the time of Antonelli, the
great Prime Minister of Pius IX, is in the
most gorgeous Japanese style. A Chinese idol
that wags its head and innumerable Oriental
effigies are conspicuous in the room. Outside
are delicious balconies from which his Emi-
nence looks on two romantic gardens and the
placid surface of a lake. Here, with a staff of
ten persons, the most exalted official instru-
ment of pontifical diplomacy lives through the
long Roman summer. Here he rises at a little
after five, says mass in the private chapel,
breakfasts on the substantial English basis of
tea, toast, chops instead of the Italian mode
of fruit, a sip of coffee, a roll and a cigarette
so palatable to Cardinal Rampolla — who, by
the way, took little interest in Gastel Gandolfo.
Merry del Val toils through correspondence
and receives diplomatists accredited to the
Holy See until noon.

Unpunctuality is the unpardonable offense
here. It is the avowed ambition of this meth-
odical being to dissociate papal diplomacy from
those traditions of interminable delay and ex-
asperating tardiness with which it is connected
in the universal mind. That is why the car-
dinal's afternoons are apt to be monotonous
repetitions of his mornings, while his evenings
are even more monotonous repetitions of his
afternoons. Socially, the cardinal-secretary
tends to exclusiveness. He seldom attends
great social affairs at the abodes of clerical
Roman princes after the fashion of the conver-
sationally brilliant Sicilian marquis who pre-
ceded him in office. The most important pure-
ly social events in the life of Merry del Val
are the receptions he occasionally gives to
diplomatists accredited to the Vatican. When
his Eminence does go out to dinner, the party
is always small, the names of guests are sub-
mitted to him in advance, and the cardinal is
served first — even before the ladies — as a mark
of respect for his sacred office. He is said to
sit with some frigidity in his seat, to talk little,
and to retire when the meal is over.

Truth to tell, the pontificate of Pius X is so-
cially a failure, and Cardinal Merry del Val is
held responsible for it, naturally. The clerical
Roman princes resent his importance at the
Vatican, for he is to them, of course, as he
is to everybody everywhere, "a foreigner," a
man without u country.

Literature and Art

IS LITERATURE DESTINED TO BE SUPERSEDED

BY SCIENCE?

HE latest of our literary pessimists is
Mr. Herbert Paul, the eminent Eng-
lish historian and essayist. In a
recent article in The Nineteenth
Century he registers his conviction that we
have only one great author left — Tolstoy — and
that even he is "a remnant of the past, not a
harbinger of the future." "The giants have
departed," asserts Mr. Paul, "and the symp-
tom is not peculiar to England. It is true of
France, of Germany, of the United States.
There is no Hav^rthorne, no Mommsen, no
Victor Hugo." Then, too, what has become
of poetry? "It has not disappeared," we are
assured; "a very large quantity of very good
verse is turned out in English between the first
of January and the thirty-first of December.
It is good, but it is not great." Do we miss
the greatness ? That is the point. "In the his-
tory of all civilized communities there are
periods destitute of great literary names. Our
peculiarity is that we seem to get on very well
without them." And, finally, conceding that
this indictment is true, what is the cause of
our lamentable literary dearth? Mr. Paul
answers :

"Some people put it all down to Democracy. The
obvious retort is that Athens was a Democracy, and
that to Athens Western literature traces its source.
But the Athenian Democracy was a very aristo-
cratic one. ■ It consisted of citizens who were also
soldiers. It rejected mechanics, as well as slaves.
What has to be proved is that modern Democracy
does not respect mental distinction. The evi-
dence is the other way. Some, again, contend that
the decline of faith accounts for the decline of
literature. It certainly was not so in the days
of Voltaire, Hume and Gibbon. But for my part
I do not believe in the decline of faith. The fall
of dogma is a very different thing. But a theo-
logical discussion would be irrelevant here. More
profitably might one ask whether the reign of
literature is over, and the reign of science begun.
Readers of that fascinating book, Mr. Francis
Darwin's Life of his father, will remember that
the illustrious naturalist at the close of his
career was unable to take any interest in literature
at all. Even Shakespeare no longer gave him any
satisfaction. Was this merely a matter of in-
dividual temperament, or did it imply that science
is enough, and that the world is tired of verbal
exercise? . . .

"Darwin rejected literature, it may be said,
because his imagination had been starved. A
man of science would explain the phenomenon
in precisely the opposite way. Here, he would

tell us, is the deepest thinker of his age, the man
who by his patient researches has transformed
our conceptions of the universe. To assume that
such a man has no imagination is ridiculous.
Yes, his imagination is the true one, because tt
was set going by experiment, because it arrives
at certainty, because it rests upon fact."

Literature may be an elegant amusement,
but, after all, says Mr. Paul, it is only per-
mutations and combinations of words. Have
we not had enough of it? Is it possible to
carry the art of expression further than Plato
carried it more than two thousand years ago?
Are we likely to see a greater poet than
Shakespeare ? "There is no progress in litera-
ture. There is nothing else in science, for
there is no limit to discovery." To continue
the argument:

"The art of expression is a mere trial of in-
genuity, and how can anyone ever be more ingen-
ious than Pope? Let the dead bury their dead.
Science is alive. Of course people want new
books. They always will want them. They read
to amuse themselves, to pass the time. Books
must be written, as chairs and tables must be
made. The world must go on. Average minds
have no need to trouble themselves about such
things. There will always be plenty for them to
do. But if literature is to be in the future what
it has been in the past it must retain its attrac-
tion for men of genius. Will the highest intel-
lects concern themselves with insoluble problems,
with windows that exclude the light and passages
that lead to nothing? Or will they be drawn, are
they being drawn even now, into the more fruit-
ful methods of experiment and exactitude? A
definite answer to such a question would be most
presumptuous. The query is only offered as a
• tentative solution of apparent facts. It is easy to
reply that science and literature are not neces-
sarily or naturally opposed; that Darwin wrote a
good style, and Huxley a better; that Tennyson
was fascinated by scientific progress; that things
can only be explained by words. Original minds,
minds of the highest order, will not always be
content, with a secondary place. When, if ever,
Science is finally enthroned as the goddess of rea-
son, the one source of real truth here below, the
arbitress of human destiny, the dictatress of the
world, literature must gradually subside into a tale
of little meaning, a relic of the past. The legend-
ary mathematician's comment on 'Paradise Lost,'
'A very fine poem, but I don't quite see what it all
goes to prove,' may have shown him to be in ad-
vance of his age. For tho 'Paradise Lost' probably
numbers more readers than the 'Principia,' it has
not extended the boundaries of human knowl-
edge."

Herbert Spencer, at the close of his life,

LITERATURE AND ART

631

was haunted by a kind of philosophic night-
mare. He knew that man did not understand
the universe, and his troubled spirit kept ask-
ing: What if there existed no comprehension
of the mystery of things anywhere? But, ac-
cording to Mr. Paul's view, it is the very lim-
itlessness of science that constitutes its supreme
fascination. "In literature, in metaphysics,"'
he says, "the best that can be has been done.
There are more things in heaven and earth
than are dreamt of in any philosophy, ancient
or modern. To the student of natural phe-
nomena, any discovery is possible." He adds,
in concluding:

"Scientific enthusiasm to-day is not what is was
in Bacon's time. It is no vast and vague idea of
co-ordinating knowledge. It is a belief in the un-
limited power of patient research, combined with
a Newtonian or Darwinian imagination. Argon,
and radium, and wireless telegraphy may be tri-
fles compared with what the future has in store.
I am not arguing, I am not able to argue, that
this unbounded confidence in scientific progress
is justified by facts, or even that it will last. It
may be a temporary phase. My point is that it
will serve to explain the apparent failure of
literary genius. Men are not born literary or
scientific. In most cases the bent of their minds
is shaped by accident. The highest minds have
the loftiest aspirations, which poetry and other
forms of literature have satisfied hitherto. If
science can be proved to hold the key of the
universe, complete satisfaction cannot be sought
elsewhere."

Mr. Paul's article has aroused some inter-
esting discussion in the literary world. To the
Chicago Dial it appeals as a justifiable state-
ment of the existing situation, but as a falla-

cious argument, so far as the future is con-
cerned. The Dial comments :

"Let us grant that science has all knowledge
for its province ; the admission does not in the
least impair the claim of literature, which has
the coequal, if not the superior, right to rule over
that province by virtue of its appeal to the emo-
tional side of human nature. Science and litera-
ture, in their relations to one another and to
man, simply illustrate anew the co-ordination of
temporal and spiritual authority that history
shows to have been workable for many centuries
in many lands. It is only what theologians style
'science falsely so-called' that seeks to usurp the
place of literature; science truly conceived does
loyal service to literature by keeping it supplied
with fresh materials for its shaping agency."

The Dial goes on to express its disagree-
ment with Mr Paul's contention that the doom
of literature is, in any real sense, sealed:

"We have only to look back a hundred years
or so to discover literature springing radiantly in-
to renewed life from a social and intellectual soil
seemingly as sterile as that of these discouraging
days in which we live. As Mr. Watts-Dunton
has pointed out, mankind alternates between two
great impulses, the impulse of acceptance, and
the impulse of wonder. Altho science is doing
its best to destroy in us the impulse to look
with wondering eyes upon the world, we are by
no means in the desperate case of our eighteenth-
century forbears. Perhaps we are yet destined to
as low a descent before the awakening comes.
But if the past has any lesson at all for us, it is
the lesson that the spirit of man, altho subdued
for a season, always contrives to reassert itself,
refusing to be forever fed upon the husks of mere
knowledge, demanding also for its full sustenance
those elements of awe and rapture and reverent
faith which science alone cannot oflfer, and which
it is the holy mission of literature to furnish for
the famishing soul."

A GREAT INTERPRETER OF THE SCOTCH GENIUS

[^HE Rev. Dr. John Watson, who has
died during the course of his third
American lecture tour, was one of the
ablest preachers and lecturers of our
generation, but to the world at large he is
known chiefly as "Ian Maclaren," the author
of "Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush." It was this
book that made him famous and that gives him
his claim on posterity, and the story of how he
came to write it is worth re-telling at this time.
Until the year 1895 he had written nothing
but sermons, and had published nothing what-
ever. He was then forty-five years old, and
the pastor of a well-to-do Presbyterian church
in Liverpool. Outside of that city he was
quite unknown. For many years he had been
intimate with Dr. Robertson Nicoll, editor of
The British Weekly, and the latter, with keen

intuition, discerned in him latent potentialities
which he determined to develop. It happened
that during this period Dr. Nicoll was making
a great reputation as a discoverer of genius —
especially of Scotch genius. It had been
through his instrumentality that J. M. Barrie
and S. R. Crockett had been introduced to the
reading public; and now he was searching for
new talent. He became more and more con-
vinced that he had found it in Dr. Watson,
and finally wrote to him, requesting that he
contribute to The British Weekly a few short
stories dealing with Scotch character. But
Dr. Watson at the time was engaged in an
analysis of the character of the Jebusites, and
had not much faith in his capacities as a story-
teller. The editor sent more letters, and, when
letters failed, telegrams, until at last the min-

632

CURRENT LITERATURE

ister yielded to his importunities. He wrote a
story and sent it — and it was promptly re-
turned! Dr. Nicoll explained wherein it had
fallen short of the editorial standard, and sug-
gested a story on new lines. His directions
were followed, and, the week following, the
first story of the "Bonnie Brier Bush" series
appeared in print.

The full significance of the title chosen by
Dr. Watson is not generally grasped. The
Jacobites of Scotland used to sing, "There
grows a bonnie brier bush in our kailyard,"
and they wore the white brier-ilower as their
emblem. Dr. Watson, himself of Jacobite de-
scent, has always loved the simple, beautiful
flower, and wanted to convey the idea that in
every garden — even in the humble kailyard — it
may blossom. The central idea of his book,
he said, is "to show the rose in places where
many people look for cabbages." He regarded
it as his mission to reveal what plain people,
who do not analyze their feelings, really do
and suffer.

In an estimate of the "Bonnie Brier Bush"
stories which has appeared in the Boston
Transcript since Dr. Watson's death, Dr. E.
Charlton Black, Professor of English Litera-
ture in Boston University, defines their pe-
culiar "note" in the following terms :

"These are studies of life done to the quick;
to those who have ears to hear they prophesy unto
all time— to use the last words of Ian Maclaren.
which have come to us— that loyalty and chivalry
and obedience and love, even in the narrowest
circumstances, and not silver and gold, are^ the
glory of humanity, and that the gospel of 'get-
ting on' is a squalid deceit and the destruction ot
cn3.r3.ctcr

"The choice of the name 'The Bonnie Brier
Bush' gives us what Ian Maclaren wished the
world to read as the open secret of his work.
It is the secret of the best Scottish literature from
long before the time of Burns; there is nothing
low in lowly estate; the beautiful is to be found
in the heart of the humble; the light of every
human soul burns upwards. The term 'Kailyard'
literature applied sneeringly to such stories as
those of Thrums and Drumtochty is, after all, a
title of honor and distinction. Sixty years ago it
was anticipated by Charles Kingsley in 'The
Saint's Tragedy':

Come tell him, monk, about your magic gardens.
Where not a stringy head of kale is cut
But breeds a vision or a revelation.

"It is the vision and the revelation in connec-
tion with the humbliest doings of the humblest
people that gives the glory and the illumination to
such work as 'Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush' and
'Auld Licht Idylls.' The authors take these
weavers, cottars, ploughmen, field laborers, and
show us that .they are like the king's daughter
in the old Hebrew psalm, all glorious within.
This Thrums,' we read in 'The Little Minister,'
'is bleak, and perhaps forbidding, but there is a

moment of the day when the setting sun dyes it
pink, and the people are like their town.' Ian
Maclaren, like Barrie, seized the revealing mo-
ment, and vision became the parent of expression.
Of course there is nothing new in all this — the
truth is old as day-dawn and as starlight. It is
in the Sermon on the Mount; the interpretation
of the truth of it is the soil and the atmosphere
of the world's best short stories. The lesson of
it has been preached eloquently in our own day
by Maeterlinck in 'Le Tresor des Humbles.' But
the world needs ever and again to have the sim-
ple, elemental truth made clear and vivid and
beautiful in such concrete embodiment as Ian
Maclaren gave in the stories of Drumtochty and
Burnbrae."

The success of "Beside the Bonnie Brier
Bush" was instantaneous. More than 200,000
copies of the book were sold in this country
alone, and a dramatization of the stories
proved very popular both in England and
America. During the first flare of enthusiasm
Dr. Watson came to America on a lecturing
tour. His reception was phenomenal. Major
J. B. Pond, his manager, has testified that "the
people were simply in love with Ian Mac-
laren," and that he cleared more money on this
tour than on any other that he had ever ar-
ranged, excepting only that of Stanley, the ex-
plorer. Dr. Watson gave readings from the
"Bonnie Brier Bush," and spoke on "Scotch
Traits" and "Robert Burns." He had packed
houses in every city, and was feted by every-
body, from the President down. At a dinner
given in his honor by the Lotos Club, of New
York, Mr. William Winter, the dramatic critic,
went so far as to characterize the Scotch visi-
tor as "the finest literary artist in the art of
mingled humor and pathos that has come into
literature since Sir Walter Scott."

Dr. Watson never repeated his first suc-
cesses either as an author or as a lecturer. He
wrote a number of charming Scotch stories,
and one novel, "Kate Carnegie," but they were
felt to show a diminishing power. His theo-
logical books were valuable, but not epoch-
making. His second and third lecture-tours in
America were "tame" indeed when compared
with that first triumphal reception.

But "Ian Maclaren's" place as an inter-
preter of the Scotch genius is secure. "He
had the gift," observes the Springfield Repub-
lican, "of being able to see what it was that
made his countrymen different from others, and
could make others see it with him." The same
paper says further: "He is recognized as the
finest, if not the richest and most various, of
what has been called with some depreciation
the 'kailyard school' of Scotch writings, of
which S. R. Crockett (also a minister) and J,
M. Barrie are the others of note."

Photojp-aph by Brown Brothers' "^ ~ ■ -'a£fa^''~ — "

' ■""' Tflrr'tAST PICTURE OF "IAN MACLAREN"

Brie?Ll^^^°^h'e"clnTS fi^.^onVCclX'^ltAl^lSn^t^^^^^^^ «*-'-' "Reside the Bonnie

many people look for cabbages." picturesque phrase, is to show the rose in places where

634

CURRENT LITERATURE

HENRY JAMES AS A LITERARY SPHINX

HE future historian of American let-
ters is likely to find few more fas-
cinating problems than that present-
ed by the "case" of Henry James.
Here is a man who, by general consensus of
critical opinion, has come to be regarded as
one of the distinguished literary figures of our
epoch. As a self-expatriated American living
in England during the past twenty-five years,
he has written a small library of novels and
essays. He is highly estimated in the land he
has adopted, and not unappreciated in the
country of his birth. Talented writers on both
sides of the Atlantic — among them Gertrude
Atherton, Elisabeth Luther Gary and Joseph
Gonrad — have paid him whole-hearted tributes.
Mr. Howells has spoken of him as "the great-
est writer of English in modern times." And
yet, in spite of all, his position, somehow, is
felt to be insecure. He has as yet appealed to
only a very limited circle of readers, and
doubts are expressed as to whether he will ever
reach the larger audience. Many who concede
the greatness of his earlier work withhold their
approval from his later writings. Mr. W. G.
Brownell, the eminent critic, voices a widely
accepted opinion when he says : "Henry James
has chosen to be an original' writer in a way
that precludes him, as a writer, from being a
great one." Another critic puts the matter
even more tersely: "A man too great to be
ignored, he is yet too ignored to be great."

The puzzling conflict of opinion in regard to
Henry James's place in contemporary letters
has received special emphasis at this time in
view of the comment evoked by his latest book,
"The American Scene."* The critical attitude
toward the book may perhaps best be indicated
by recalling a phrase once applied to Walt
Whitman's "Leaves of Grass" by Thoreau.
The Goncord naturalist felt in those strange
poems "a great big something," but would not
commit himself further. This seems to be the
attitude of most of the reviewers of "The
American Scene."

It is quite impossible to give any adequate
description of the character of Mr. James's
latest work. One critic thinks that even to at-
tempt to do so would be "rashly presumptuous
and inevitably unsuccessful." We can only say
that the book is the record of a journey
of imaginative discovery through uncharted
regions. Mr. James undertook the quest, so he

•The American Scene, By Henry James. Harper &
Brothers.

tells us, in the spirit of a "restless analyst," and
he wandered up and down our coast — through
New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Baltimore,
Richmond, Gharleston — looking not so much
for facts as for tendencies. His pages are
studded with beautiful prose-pictures of
American life — when it comes to impression-
ism, says the London Times, there is "no one
to touch him" — but it is the psychology that
projects these pictures, rather than the pictures
themselves, that chiefly engages us; and it is
just this psychology that ever tends to elude
the mental grasp of even the most vigilant
reader. "His impressions," remarks the dis-
tressed Literary World (London), "follow
each other with such bewildering frequency,
with such acute urgency for the time, and with
such elusive meaning, that the book brings with
it — and we think that it will do so to most
readers — a sense of fatigue." It is a work
"written for the delectation of the leisurely
amateur of the extreme refinements of litera-
ture," says Edward Wright, more apprecia-
tively, in an article in the London Academy.
He continues :

"The more impatient student of social history
will probably regret that it was not composed in
a popular form. For, in substance, it is an inquiry
of high and general interest into the essential
character of one of the great nations of the world
in a grandly critical period of its development. If
nothing had been lost in the force and insidioiis-
ness of the attack it would certainly have been
better, in some respects, if the book had been put
together in French fashion, so that those who run
could read. But much, I fear, would so have been
lost. Mr. James would not be Mr. James if he did
not deepen and intricate every question that he
endeavored to solve. He is but little interested in
plain, material facts ; it is in the subtlety with
which he investigates the finer moral implications
of these facts that the peculiar power of his genius
resides. In appearance his work is a contexture
of impressions of the superficial aspects of Amer-
ican life, of the architecture of the streets, the
arrangement of rooms in private houses, the gen-
eral atmosphere of a great hotel or of a fashion-
able seaside resort. In reality it is a profound
essay in the psychology of the governing class in
America. 'Now that you have got riches and the
power that riches give,' says Mr. James to the
plutocracy of his native land, 'what do you intend
to make with them ?' 'More riches and more power.'
is the answer. 'And after that?' 'Nothing!' The
foredoomed grope of blind wealth for the graces
and amenities of civilized life, that, as Mr. James
sees it, is the main plot in the tragic comedy which
is being played on the immense stage of America."

It was Frederic Taber Gooper who said that
Henry James's novels, if we only understand
them, are profoundly immoral ; but that nobody

LITERATURE AND ART

635

understands them, and therefore it does not
matter ! So, in the present instance, a number
of commentators share Mr. Wright's view that
Henry James's attitude toward his native coun-
try is critical, if not condemnatory; but no
one feels quite certain about it, and, again, it
does not matter ! To be sure, Mr. Sidney
Coryn, of the San Francisco Argonaut, states
clearly : "He surveys our social landscape with
what we tremblingly feel is the cold eye of
disapproval." But this statement is counter-
balanced by the affirmation of Elisabeth Luther
Cary in the New York Times Saturday Re-
view, that Mr. James "has, in fact, treated his
Americans with such a tender and beneficent
justice as to make us feel that we seemed to
him a peculiarly rewarding type." Dr. Rob-
ertson Nicoll, editor of The British Weekly
(London), who has also taken a hand at inter-
preting the cryptic utterances of "The Ameri-
can Scene," declares that he is "inclined to
think that Mr. James does not regard the
America of the hour with special hope or
favor;" but, he adds cautiously, "nobody can
be positive on this point." It is a great mis-
take, says Dr. Nicoll, to suppose that Henry
James always writes to be understood. Why
should he? "He is a man clothed in armor of
reserve." Dr. Nicoll says further :

"In all this book, about his own country and his
own people — a country and a people that lie a
quarter of a century away — there is neither a
smile nor a tear. Mr. James moves among famil-
iar and unfamiliar scenes like a denizen of another
planet. I apologize for this hateful tag, but I do
not know how otherwise to express my meaning
with precision. He looks upon America, and, in-
deed, on all the world, as an urbane, intelligent,
and even friendly Martian might look. This in-
vestiture of the inner soul with a coat of mail is
often the result of an extreme sensitiveness.
Once allow people to become too familiar, and
the sorest places in the soul may be touched rude-
ly, and the deepest wounds unbandaged. Mr.
James is certainly not inhuman; perhaps it is be-
cause he is so human that he makes so many of
his readers suspect him of inhumanity."

The thought-content of "The American
Scene" is difficult enough, but it is crystal-
clear when compared with some of Mr. James's
stylistic subtleties. A Unitarian reader in Bos-
ton complains that the Jamesian sentences "go
wandering off into space, like the lost Pleiad ;"
and even the admiring Spectator, of London,
enters a mild protest against "sentences which
come to an end only by the grace of God."
The London Outlook comments:

"His dexterity is marvelous, and nothing has
escaped his keen vision; nothing is left unrecord-
ed or unjudged. Such infinitude of observation
becomes, long before the end is reached, a ver-
itable Chinese wall shutting out the one thing that

Mr. James set out to give us — the American Scene
— unless, indeed, he wishes to suggest that the
subject is too full of confusing and often contra-
dictory elements to be treated in any other way.
'From far back,' his favorite phrase, 'from far,
far back' we have been accustomed to the peculiar
intricacy of his style; but it becomes more in-
volved with each succeeding volume. For what
purports to be a book of travel this highly arti-
ficial method seems peculiarly unsuited. There
are sentences here which defy the closest study.
Once, no doubt, they had a meaning — before they
had been tortured and twisted into their present
state of elusive subtlety. Tired of playing tricks
upon his readers, Mr. James has taken to playing
them on himself."

Now we do not object to obscurity if we can
convince ourselves that it veils great meanings.
But to unwrap veil after veil, and to find at
the end of our search — nothing, is as tantaliz-
ing an experience as falls to human lot. It
may seem almost sacrilegious to apply such an
analogy to the work of Henry James; yet
more than one critic writes in this vein. Mr.
Coryn thinks that all Henry James's labori-
ously polished pages on the new status of the
American woman are summed up in the single
sentence of one of our humorists: "The new
woman has indeed arrived, but the old man
is still here." And the London Athenaeum
finds Mr. James's over-refined observations on
immigration quite "ordinary" vv^hen stripped to
the core. It comments further :

"Despite this inveterate quest of the elusive,
gendered in him by the calling of a lifetime, the
ideas suggested to Mr. James by a revisited
'American scene' are inevitably, at bottom, often
much what might occur to any other reflective
observer. But the expression does not accommo-
date itself to the relative obviousness of idea.
That must still preserve all the paraphernalia of
elusiveness, though there is nothing which eludes.
He must still write about and around it, and every
way but of it — must approach it by stealth and
tortuous indirectness, and deck it with the most
elaborated precisions of impreciseness, as if it re-
quired hinting afar oflF. He must (habitual micro-
scopist!) still use his delicate microtome, tho only
to make sections of butter. The language in-
vented, and the manner of thought developed, for
his psychological subleties he uses for matters
the most familiar, and so reduces them to a
strange, fantasmal abstraction of their workaday
selves, bafflingly implying subtlety which is not in
them. It is more difficult to follow than really
inherent subtlety. For through the swathings you
laboriously arrive at relative commonplace, and
strenuous attention exerted to such a result ex-
hausts one more than if the evasive expression
had been compelled by a true evasiveness of idea."

And yet, after criticism has done its worst.
"The American Scene" remains a very won-
derful book. Mr. Edward Wright, of The
Academy, thinks it "deserves to rank with de
Tocqueville." The Spectator says : "It is the
most original book of travels we have ever

636

CURRENT LITERATURE

read," And the London Daily Mail pays this
enthusiastic tribute to its quality :

"We are much deceived if this is not a durable
contribution to literature, and in its evidence of
intense solicitude for truth, of scrupulous fairness,
the severity of the judgment it passes on the rush
and roughness of the new American ideals is not
to be avoided. 'The American Scene' may be read
by some Americans with bewilderment and im-
patience, but it constitutes the most durable sur-
face-portraiture of an unparalleled condition of
society which our generation is likely to see."

The problem of Henry James is as yet un-
solved. Perhaps we are too close to him to
understand him properly. Perhaps the lapse
of time alone can give him the place that is
his. But one thing is certain — his peculiar
genius, in all its strength and v^^eakness, was
never more vividly revealed than in "The
American Scene," that "tantalizing, endlessly
clever, engaging, perverse, compelling and re-
pelling by-product of the most fastidiously
probing mind in present literature."

THE GREATEST SHORT-STORY WRITER THAT

EVER LIVED

is the title that a growing
number of critical voices would un-
doubtedly concede to that French-
man of genius, Guy de Maupassant.
It is now fourteen years since he died of gen-
eral paralysis in a padded chamber of a
Paris maison de sante; but his stories are
more widely read than ever. A new edition'
of his writings has been lately published in
America, and commentaries on his life and
• work are still appearing in many languages.
He was a terrific liver and worker — this
broad-shouldered, athletic young Norman,
whose thick neck and muscular arms were so
strangely contradicted by the kindliest of eyes ;
and when, at the age of forty-three, the horror
and darkness finally descended on him, he had
published no less than twenty-three volumes of
fiction, travel, drama and verse — almost as
much as the giant Balzac.

"What was the cause of his downfall?"
asks James Huneker in the New York Times
Saturday Review. "Dissipation? Mental over-
work— which is the same thing? Disease?"
Edouard Maynial, a new French biographer'
of de Maupassant, and Baron Albert Lum-
broso, who made a careful study of his malady
and death, leave us no doubt, Mr. Huneker
thinks, as to the determining element:

"From 1880 to his death in 1893, de Maupas-
sant was 'a candidate for general paralysis.'
These are the words of his doctor. . . . One
does not need to be a skilled psychiatrist to fol-
low and note the gradual palsy of the writer's
higher centers. Such stories as 'Qui Sait'P 'Lui,'
'Le Horla' — a terrifying conception that beats Foe
on his own chosen field — 'Fou'? 'Un Fou,' and
several others show the nature of his malady.
. . . Guy de Maupassant came fairly by his

^The Works of Guy de Maupassant. M. Walter Dunne,

New York.
*La Vie et L'Oeuvre de Guy de Maupassant. By

Edouard Maynial. Librairc P. Ollendorf, Paris.

cracked nervous constitution, and instead of dis-
sipation, mental and physical, being the deter-
mining causes of his shattered health, they were
really the outcome of an inherited predisposition
to all that is self-destructive. The French alien-
ists called it 'une heredite chargee;' "

Yet there were certain critics, particularly
the great Russian Tolstoy, who have seen in
the career of this talented and tragic victim of
heredity and environment a wonderful strug-
gle towards a new and brighter conception of
life — a conception which might have entirely
altered the character of his work. In "Sur
I'Eau" and "Solitude," and in other of the
two hundred or more short stories, the exist-
ence of this struggle is certainly as apparent
as those pathological symptoms in the dark
tales cited by Mr. Huneker.

De Maupassant has often been pictured as a
somber and unhappy man. "As a matter of
fact, he seemed to enjoy life very much,"
Robert Sherard tells us in a recent book of
journalistic impressions.' "One knows, simi-
larly, that Schopenhauer exulted in the sen-
sualities of the table, and as a boon companion
was the most exuberant of men. I have seen
Maupassant radiantly happy. His summers
were usually spent at Etretat, and it was there
that I once met him cycling in a lane which
was redolent with hawthorne blossoms. I do
not think that I ever saw a man who looked
happier."

But this may be regarded as a superficial
observation, on a par with other statements
made by Mr. Sherard to the effect that Mau-
passant "adulated" aristocratic society and
"despised literature as a metier" — an affecta-
tion, says M. Rene Doumic, the distinguished
French critic, which deceived no one. It is

'Twenty Years in Paris. By Robert Harborough
Sher^ird. George W. Jacobs & Company.

LITERATURE AND ART

637

true that de Maupassant did not like to "talk
literature," and he avoided all the extrava-
gances of the literary men of Paris. Even his
clothing, scrupulously neat and elegant, w^as
calculated to dissociate him from professional
Bohemianism. Moreover, his was a singularly
difficult personality. "He had raised a wall
between himself and other men," says M.
Doumic. So it is quite possible that the Eng-
lish journalist is mistaken in what he records
as a "psychological truth."

The essentially Gallic genius of de Mau-
passant has hardly as yet been estimated at its
true worth either in England or America.
The revolting subjects of some of his stories
have prevented us from seeing the pure beauty
of others. Moreover, as Mr. Sherard well
says:

"One can quite understand that he has never
acquired fame in England, where the great ar-
tistic truth that the fable is no less true because
the wolf is cruel, the fox cunning, and the mon-
key malignant, is not recognized, and where a
book is certain to fail in popularity if the charac-
ters are not 'sympathetic' His fables are ter-
ribly true ; and because this is so, his men-wolves,
men-foxes, and monkey-men are terribly cruel
and malignant and cunning. The book which
first made his name, 'Boule de Suif,' is an album
of pictures of selfishness and hypocrisy.

"Selfishness and hypocrisy are the texts of nine
out of ten of his numerous short stories. In 'Une
Vie,' which many consider his masterpiece, the
ugliness and cruelty of life, as caused by man's
selfishness, are mercilessly exposed. 'Bel-Ami'
shows how, by an unchecked exercise of these
vices, a man may rise, as society is at present
constituted in France, from the lowest to the
highest degree. 'Bel-Ami,' it may be added, was
not a creation, but a portrait from life. The
original of George Duroy still looms large in
Tout- Paris. Only a few days ago I saw him
pass down the Champs-Elysees in a superb car-
riage. He decries motoring as the sport of the
vulgar."

It was thought, even by his French admir-
ers, that de Maupassant could not write about
love. "It is one thing to analyze vice," they
said, "and another to show the psychology of
love. Love is of so rare and delicate an
essence that it cannot be touched with the
scalpel." Here the pupil of Flaubert was a
surprise. "Those who knew the intimacies of
Guy de Maupassant's life," writes Mr.
Sherard, "knew of a love-story in which he
had shown himself the most impassioned of
wooers, and of lovers the most ardent and
faithful. It was my privilege to have in m}'
hands a collection of love-letters written by
him, and I sometimes regret that I did not
make use of them for publication. They
would have taken their place amongst the
finest letters which have been given to the

GUY DE MAUPASSANT
The French story-writer of whom Tolstoy has
written: "Maupassant possessed genius. But, being
destitute of a correct moral relation to what he
described, he loved and described that which he
should not have loved and described, and did not
love that which he should have loved and described."

world. They were models of style, and I do
not think that de Maupassant ever surpassed
in any of his works the beauty of this prose."
In all probability, these are the letters since
published under a veil of fiction as "Amitie
Amoureuse," wherein de Maupassant is said
to figure as the unselfish Philippe. Then there
was the beginning of a charming correspond-
ence between him and Marie Bashkirtsefif, in
which the young artist capriciously hid her
identity.

But how much of it was pathological — this
extraordinary talent, preoccupied, as it so often
was, with unwholesome types and strange,
erotic subjects? In his review of M. May-
nial's book, James Huneker gives the follow-
ing description of de Maupassant's last days:

"Restless, traveling incessantly, fearful of dark-
ness, of his own shadow, he was like an Oriental
magician who had summoned malignant spirits
from outer space only to be destroyed by them.
Not in Corsica or Sicily, in Africa nor the south
of France, did Guy fight oflf his rapidly growing
disease. He worked hard, he drank hard, but no
avail; the blackness of his brain increased. Mel-
ancholia and irritability supervened; he spelled
words wrong, he quarreled with his friends, he

638

CURRENT LITERATURE

instituted a lawsuit against a New York news-
paper, The Star; then the persecution craze, folie
des grandeurs, frenzy. The case was 'classic
from the beginning, even to the dilated pupils of
his eyes, as far back as 1880. The ist of January,
1892, he had promised to spend with his mother
at Villa de Ravenelles, at Nice. But he went, in-
stead, against his mother's wishes, to Sainte-
Marguerite in company with two sisters, society
women, one of them said to have been the hero-
ine of Notre Coeur.

"The next day he arrived, his features discom-
posed, and in a state of great mental excitement.
He was tearful and soon he left for Cannes with
his valet, Francois. What passed during the
night was never exactly known, except that Guy
attempted suicide by shooting and with a paper
knife. The knife inflicted a slight wound; the
pistol contained blank cartridges— Frangois had
suspected his master's mood— and his forehead
was slightly burned. Some months previous he
had told Dr. Fremy that between madness and
death he would not hesitate; a lucid moment had
shown him his fate, and he sought death. After
a week, during which two stout sailors of his
yacht, Bel Ami, guarded him, as he sadly walked
on the beach regarding with tear-stained cheeks
his favorite boat, he was taken to Passy, to Dr.
Blanche's institution. ...

"July 6, 1893, de Maupassant died, as a lamp is
extinguished for lack of oil. But the year he
spent at the asylum was wretched; he became a
mere machine, and perhaps the only pleasure he
experienced was the hallucination of bands of
black butterflies that seemed to sweep across his
room."

The tragedy of de Maupassant's life, how-
ever, may be said to have lain deeper than
even his most exact biographers realized. It
was some time in 1881 that Turgenief, while
on a visit to Tolstoy, gave him a little book
entitled "La Maison Tellier." "It is by a young
French writer," he said. "Look it over: it is
not bad. He knows you, and greatly appre-
ciates you. ... As a type, he reminds me
of Druzhinin; he is, like Druzhinin, an ex-
cellent son, a good friend, un homme d'un
commerce siir, and besides this, he associates
with the working people, guides them, helps
* them." But Tolstoy thought very little of
"La Maison Tellier;" it was not until later
that the young French story-writer won his
sympathetic attention, and then he came to the
following conclusion :

"Maupassant possessed genius, that gift of at-
tention revealing in the objects and facts of life
properties not perceived by others ; he possessed
a beautiful form of expression, uttering clearly,
simply and with charm what he wished to say;
and he possessed also the merit of sincerity, with-
out which a work of art produces no eflfect; that
is, he did not merely pretend to love or hate, but
did indeed love or hate what he described. But,
unhappily, being destitute of the first and perhaps
most important qualification for a work of art,
of a correct moral relation to what he described —
that is, lacking a knowledge of the difference be-

tween good and evil — he loved and described that
which he should not have loved and described,
and did not love that which he should have loved
and described."

But Tolstoy also found a powerful moral
growth in de Maupassant during his literary
activity, especially in certain short stories and
in one of the last books, "Sur I'Eau" ; for, with
the exception of "Une Vie," he considers the
novels, on the whole, meretricious and un-
clean. On the darkened life-work of the
young Frenchman it was left for Tolstoy to
throw the white light of his genius in the
searching appreciation which follows:

"Not in sexual love alone does Maupassant see
the innate contradiction between the demands of
the animal and rational man ; he sees it in all the
organization of the world.

"He sees that the world as it is, the material
world, is not only not the best of worlds, but, on
the contrary, might be quite different (this idea
is wonderfully expressed in 'Horla'), and that it
does not satisfy the demands of reason and love;
he sees that there is some other world, or at
least the demand for such another world, in the
soul of man.

"He is tormented, not only by the unreasonable-
ness of the material world and its ugliness, but
by its unlovingness, its disunity. I do not know
a more heartrending cry of despair from a strayed
m.an feeling his loneliness, than the expression of
this idea in that most exquisite story, 'Solitude.'

"The thing that most tormented de Maupas-
sant, to which he returns many times, is the pain-
ful state of loneliness, spiritual loneliness, of
man, of that bar which stands between man and
his fellows; a bar which, as he says, is the more
painfully felt, the nearer the bodily connection.

"What then torments him, and what would he
have? What will destroy this bar? What sup-
press this loneliness? Love. Not that love of
woman, a love with which he is disgusted; but
pure, spiritual, divine love.

"And it is that which de Maupassant seeks; it
is toward this savior of life long ago plainly dis-
closed to man, that he painfully strives amid
those fetters in which he feels himself bound.

"He cannot yet give name to what he seeks ;
he would not name it with his lips, not wishing
to defile his holy of holies. But his unexpressed
yearning, shown in his dread of loneliness, is so
sincere that it infects and attracts one more
strongly than many and many a sermon about
love pronounced only with the lips. . . .

"De Maupassant attained that tragic moment
in life when the struggle began between the
falsehood of the life about him and the true life
of which he began to be conscious. The first
throes of spiritual birth had already commenced
in him.

"And it is these anguishes of birth that he ex-
pressed in his best work, especially in his short
stories.

"Had it been his, not to die in the anguish of
birth, but to be born, he would have given us
great instructive works; but, as it is, what he
has given us in his birth struggle is much. Let
us therefore be thankful to this powerful, truth-
ful man for what he has given us."

LITERATURE AND ART

639

A PORTRAYAL OF PITTSBURG'S LABOR TRAVAIL

HE city of Pittsburg, it has been said,
can be ever identified by "the cloud
of smoke by day and the pillar of fire
by night ;" and in his new labor
panels, unveiled in the Carnegie Institute a few
weeks ago, Mr. John W. Alexander, the emi-
nent painter, has most fittingly chosen to por-
tray the spirit of labor that lies at the heart
of both cloud and fire. Mr. Alexander was
born and brought up in Pittsburg, and as a
boy his imagination was haunted by the fever
and the stress, the glare and the glamor, of its
Cyclopean workshops. During those early
days he must often have seen the great swing-
ing cranes, must often have heard the din and
crash of thunderous machinery. Doubtless he
peered into flaming smithies, and watched men
beat out the sizzling steel and twisting iron on
the anvil. It must have been then that he first
conceived those heroic figures of half-naked
workers, straining and striving, illumined by
fire, immersed in steam, that he has now re-
vealed to us in his mural paintings.

Mr. Alexander is a living contradiction of
the old adage that a prophet is not without
honor save in his own country. He has been
signally honored by the city of his birth. "For
the first time in America." says a writer in the
Pittsburg Dispatch, "a home painter has been
honored by a commission from his own city
to decorate the art center of that city;" and
the commission is the largest for mural
decoration even received by a single painter
in this country. Mr. Alexander has been
working steadily on his task for two years ;
and the end is not yet.

The art critic, Charles H. Caflfin, has said
that the real meaning of the painter's latest
inspiration came home to him most vividly one
November evening as he stood on the heights
above Pittsburg. He had climbed the rolling
hills of Schenley Park, within which the Car-
negie Institute is situated, and was looking
down at the great city below. He describes
his impression of the scene in Harper's:

"Immediately about one it is drear — the grass
colorless and thin in the grip of winter; twilight
laying a chill, damp hand upon one's face; inter-
mittent lights pricking the gloom that closes round
one, creeping up, as it seems, from a murky pit
below the hills. Down there is the city, metropo-
lis of mines and rolling-mills, of factories and
warehouses, the heart of a huge arterial system of
commerce throbbing through the lives of countless
men and women. And spread low above them is
a pall. It is the breath of their nostrils, mingled
with the murk and grime from the bowels of the

earth and smoke from the fire of their furnaces.
One shudders; it is appalling, the reek of foul-
ness suffocating the souls of men ; one's eyes turn
from it involuntarily and seek the cleanliness of
the sky. But, lo ! a marvel ! The reek is lifting,
pouring up as from a volcano's mouth, drawing
to itself in its ascent a reflection of the setting
sun. The light upon it is at first a faint glow,
waking it into life; becoming warmer and more
varied in its iridescence as the column of vapor
rises, and still warmer and more iridescent, until
it trembles softly with color, like the neck of sonic
beautiful bird, far above one. Gradually the vapor
expands into a volume of body, dappled with the
plumage of little clouds, dyed as with molten
colors, while higher still spread innumerable pin-
ions, floating, sweeping, eddying in a slow surge
of movement, changing as they move to violet,
saffron, rose, and golden glory. All the sky is
occupied with glory, tumultuous, serene, superb,
and tender. Then sight is lost in sound, and the
sky seems full of singing — swelling, dying away,
and swelling again, until it rises in an ocean of
triumphant sound as from a thousand times ten
thousand hearts."

Some such vision as this, one may believe
with Mr. Caffin, must have furnished the larger
background for John W. Alexander's concep-
tion. His labor panels adorn the great en-
trance-hall of the Carnegie Institute, and oc-
cupy the lowest of three tiers. It has been his
aim, as the critic points out, to "avoid any
direct illustrations of actual processes of
work." To quote further:

"It is Labor, as the foundation of the city's
material greatness and as the base on which she
builds her efforts toward the ideal, that he set
out to commemorate. Nor did he view it, either
mentally or artistically, in its crudity of contrasts,
as a lurid drama of Cyclopean energy. He saw
it rather as a union of mind and muscle, and has
sought to bring out the controlling element of in-
telligence in the conflict of humanity with matter.
While, almost without exception, the men he has
represented are physically powerful, with backs
and chests on which the muscles lie in firm slabs,
and with arms that are strong with cords of steel,
they have heads expressive of more than average
intelligence. For he has not been betrayed into
the foolishness of overdoing this suggestion. The
heads are not fantastically ennobled; still less do
they indicate any self-consciousness of superiority,
or any pose of playing a great role. Their de-
meanor, like their movements, seems to be a nat-
ural product of, as well as a controlling factor in,
the character of their labor.

"So with studied moderation and yet with an
appearance of inevitable and resistless impetus the
action of the figures is carried through the se-
quence of panels ; a rhythm of movement, rising
and falling like the swell of Atlantic rollers. And
as the latter may be seen looming out of a fog and
into fog retreating, so these figures appear and
disappear, are seen in part or whole, clearly or
vaguely, through the steam and smoke in which
their labor is enveloped."

640

CURRENT LITERATURE

"It is their care in all the ages to take the buffet and cushion the shock;

'It is their care that the gear engages; it is their care that the switches lock:

;it is their care that the wheels run truly; it is their care to embark and entrain.
Tally, transport, and deliver duly the Sons of Mary by land and main." •""'*'"'

JOHN W. ALEXANDER'S VISION OF THE

LITERATURE AND ART

641

'They say to the mountains, 'Be ye removed!' They say to the lesser floods, 'Run dry!'

'Under their rods are the rocks reproved — they are not afraid of that which is high,

"Then do the hilltops shake to the summit; then is the bed of the deep laid bare,
"That the Sons of Mary may overcome it, pleasantly sleeping and unaware."

— ^From Kipling's latest poem, "The Sons of Martha."
CYCLOPEAN WORKSHOPS OF PITTSBURG

642

CURRENT LITERATURE

JOHN W. ALEXANDER
The American artist whose mural paintings in
the Carnegie Institute in Pittsburg are said to "mark
a new departure in the embellishment of buildings
dedicated to the people."

In concluding his appreciation of the paint-
ings, Mr. Caffin takes the ground that there is

special reason for congratulation in the fact
that they are "unequivocally modern," instead
of being merely workings-over of old motives.
He w^rites on this point :

"It is not only that the male types represent a
conception of the rights and possibilities of labor
that is a part of our present-day understanding of
democracy, nor that the girl types are drawn from
such as we can see around us. These are but con-
tributory touches. The real reason is that just
as Strauss has invented new forms of harmonic
structure, so the painter has here cut clean away
from the old method of piled-up, obviously bal-
anced composition, and flung on the canvas in the
freedom of apparent unrestraint a distribution of
forms the secret of whose rhythm and balance is
evasive. Mannerism disappears and spontaneity
is suggested.

"To this allegory, besides arraying it in a grace
characteristically modern, Mr. Alexander has
given an import that is partly American in its
ideal and partly local to Pittsburg. We welcome
the decorations, therefore, not only for the charm
of their appeal to imagination and eye, but as
marking a new departure in the embellishment of
buildings dedicated to the people."

These labor panels in the Carnegie Institute,
perhaps it need hardly be added, are but the
culmination of a long and brilliant artistic
career. Mr. Alexander's artistic work has a
history of twenty-five years. He has made
portraits of Oliver Wendell Holmes, John Hay,
Walt Whitman, John Burroughs; of Robert
Browning, Robert Louis Stevenson, Thomas
Hardy and Swinburne. One of his best paint-
ings, "The Pot of Basil," is in the Boston
Museum; another, "The Great Bow," was
bought by the Luxembourg Museum in Paris.

SIR LESLIE STEPHEN'S CONTEMPT FOR LITERATURE

DON'T mind writing books," Sir
Leslie Stephen once said; "what
is loathsome is publishing them. It
seems to me indecent almost, tho I
admit it to be necessary. I wonder whether
other people hate the trade as much as I do.
If one could write to one's friends alone, it
would be tolerable; but to go to the world at
large and say, 'Come, buy my remarks,' shows
a want of modesty or even common propriety."
These observations, coming as they do from
one who is generally conceded to have been the
first English-speaking critic of his time, are
bound to strike us as somewhat incongruous.
But, strangely enough, they reflect an en-
during trait in his character; and the reader of
the lately published "Life and Letters"* of

•The Life and Letters of Leslie Stephen. By Fred-
eric William Maitland. G. P. Putnam's Sons.

Stephen will find the same spirit running
through the whole book. According to his
own confession, he "stumbled into criticism,"
rather than chose it as his life's work ; and his
biographer, Professor Maitland, says of him :
"No critic ever thought less highly of the
critic's profession." The "Dictionary of
National Biography," of which Sir Leslie was
editor, is ranked as one of the monumental lit-
erary achievements of the past century, but he
always spoke of it slightingly. Toward the
close of his life he registered a growing con-
viction of "the small value of literature in gen-
eral, and therefore of authors — all but the
good ones." He added, wearily : "I have writ-
ten so much criticism, alas ! that I have ac-
quired a disgust for the whole body of it — in-
cluding my own."

It is possible, of course, to attribute this pes-

LITERATURE AND ART

643

simistic spirit, in part, at least, to a nervous
and preternaturally sensitive temperament. He
admitted that at times he was "as restless as a
hyena;" and once he exclaimed: "Don't you
know that I'm like a hoop? When I'm not
going at full speed, I drop." But the real sig-
nificance of his attitude lay deeper. It may
be traced to the fact that he never fulfilled his
ambition as a writer, that he never wrote the
book he felt it was in him to write. "The
sense in which I take myself to have been a
failure," he said, at the end, "is this: I have
scattered myself too much. I think that I had
it in me to make something like a real contribu-
tion to philosophical or ethical thought. Un-
luckily, what with journalism and dictionary-
making, I have been a jack-of-all-trades, and
instead of striking home I have only done
enough to persuade friendly judges that I
could have struck." He added that if ever a
history of English thought in the nineteenth
century were written his name would only ap-
pear in footnotes, whereas, had he concen-
trated his forces, he might perhaps have had a
paragraph or some section of a chapter to
himself.

But deeper than even the sense of disap-
pointed ambition was that other sense of the
supreme, the inestimable, value of life which
led John Addington Symonds to say: "I have
never been able to take literature very seriously.
Life seems so much graver, more important,
more permanently interesting than books. Lite-
rature is what Aristotle called ^uiywyq, an hon-
est, healthful, harmless pastime." It was in
this spirit that Sir Leslie wrote to his friend
Henry Sidgwick: "You and I are too old au-
thors not to have learnt the vanity of vanities
as applied to an author's ambition, and I try
daily to learn it more thoroughly. My chief
moral doctrine in practice is that all real happi-
ness (after that which depends on the stom-
ach) consists in the domestic and friendly re-
lations."

This expression of opinion has led the Lon-
don Outlook to comment:

"His own domestic and friendly relations were
certainly excellent : but it is strange that he should
not have learnt either from literature or experi-
ence that men have got the highest happiness from
seeking and finding a harmony between themselves
and the universe; strange, too, that he should
have spoken of an author's ambition as vanity of
vanities; for writing is an art, and few things in
this life are less vain than the arts.

"It is, in point of fact, the chief defect of Ste-
phen's literary criticism that he seems to think of
the glory of literature as a vanity, and is apt to
talk of great writers as if there were nothing di-
vine in them, as if the best they could do was to

From a Painting by G. F. Watts

THE FIRST EXGLISH-SPEAKING CRITIC OF
HIS TIME
Sir Leslie Stephen thought so little of his own
profession that he once exclaimed: "I feel that a
critic is a kind of parasitical growth, and that the
best critic should come below a second-rate original
writer."

observe truthfully and to express themselves with-
out affectation. In fact, he had no more faith in
literature than in other things. He speaks with
contempt of 'modern critics, who think they can
lay down laws in art like the Pope in religion,
e. g., the whole Swinburne-Rossetti school.' But
Mr. Swinburne's criticism is of the highest value
just because he has a strong faith in life and
therefore in art; and because he judges literature
by this faith. It is important not to say more than
you believe; but it is important also to believe
something; and Leslie Stephen believed too little
about literature or life to be a critic of the highest
rank. He loved many great writers; but he was
content to love them rather as we love our chil-
dren, without trying to justify his love on any
principle. And yet it cannot be denied that this
love made him write very well. He remarked
himself that as a critic of literature he feared he
was a failure. That is going much too far ; but
it is true that even in essays intended to be critical
he was always more the biographer than the critic,
and gave the reader a livelier idea of what kind of
man his author was than of the nature and value
of his writings. And in doing this he showed
remarkable art of an unusual kind in English
writers."

There can be no doubt that the impartial lit-
erary historian will set a much higher estimate

644

CURRENT LITERATURE

on Sir Leslie Stephen's work than that which
he himself saw fit to set on it. There are some
men whose faculty for self-depreciation
amounts almost to a disease. Lafcadio Hearn
was such a one, and so was Tschaikowsky, the
Russian composer. Sir Leslie Stephen was
touched by the same malady. We need to go
back of his own judgment to that of his con-
temporaries. Robert Louis Stevenson, Ed-

mund Gosse, Thomas Hardy, John Morley,
James Bryce, Frederic Harrison are only a few
of the host who have paid tribute to his mem-
ory. R. B. Haldane testifies : "He was like
Socrates in the calmness of his wisdom ;" and
George Meredith has said of his critical work
that "the memory of it remains with us as be-
ing the profoundest and the most sober criti-
cism of our time."

WALTER PATER AND HIS CIRCLE

HE slender contribution made by
Walter Pater to the literature of
our time has penetrated farther than
the voluminous output of a thousand
lesser but more pretentious minds. He was not
only a great stylist, but a great thinker, and
certain periods of human thought — the Greek,
the Roman, the Renaissance — have become for
us, since he wrote of them, just a shade dif-
ferent from what they were before.

Pater lived the life of a recluse, and until
now only two biographical studies — those of
Ferris Greenslet and A. C. Benson — have been
published about him. New light on his se-
cluded personality is to be welcomed, what-
ever its source. We feel that we cannot know
too much about him. His name has magic.
His influence is growing. And so, while the
clumsiness and vulgarity of much of the writ-
ing in Thomas Wright's new "Life"* of Pater
are to be heartily regretted, the biographical
information that he presents can be accepted
only with gratitude. It is information that no
previous biographer of Pater has been able to
discover, and that no future student of his life
and work can afiford to neglect.

The earlier years of Pater receive special
emphasis in this work. We read of his shy,
unprepossessing, unpopular boyhood, and of
his religious struggles as a youth. During the
period that he spent as a college student in
Oxford he shocked many of his friends by
swinging over from a position of High Church
ritualism to a radical anti-Christian attitude,
and to the end of his life he combined in his
nature something of the Christian and some-
thing of the free-thinker. There was a time,
it seems, when Pater thought, or affected to
think, of taking holy orders in the Church of
England :

"He continually treated ordination in a flippant
way, and on one occasion, when two of his

'^^^J'"'^ °^ Walter Pater. By Thomas Wright. G
P. Putnam's Sons.

friends, the Rev. J. B. Kearney and McQueen,
were also in the house, he said, 'What fun it
would be to be ordained and not to believe a
single word of what you are saying' — a remark,
however, upon which, considering the pleasure
which he now took in shocking people, it would
not be fair to lay too much stress.

"Mr. Kearney made an indignant comment.

" 'I shall take orders,' followed Pater, 'just be-
fore my examination.'

'"If you make the attempt,' said Mr.. Kearney,
'I shall do all I can to prevent it.'

" 'And I,' followed McQueen, 'shall do so too.'

"Pater replied that he should take orders in
spite of them, or of anyone else."

McQueen and Kearney were as good as their
word, and both addressed letters to the Bishop
of London warning him against Pater's dan-
gerous tendencies. At first, we are told, Pater
was much incensed, but ultimately he forgave
them. The whole incident leaves doubts in the
mind as to how far Pater was ever serious in
his agnostic declarations.

By far the most important of Pater's friend-
ships was that with Richard C. Jackson, a
wealthy young poet and connoisseur. To
describe the life of Pater without mentioning
Jackson, says Mr. Wright, is "to tell the story
of David and leave out Jonathan." When
Pater first met Jackson, in 1877, he found in
him "a mind with as many hues as an Indian
carpet," "a man who was at once an authority
on Dante and Greek art, a Platonist, a monk,
a Reunionist." The young poet was a mem-
ber of a religious fraternity in London organ-
ized by the Rev. George Nugee, a High Church
clergyman, and he worshiped daily in a beau-
tiful chapel "with a black-and-white marble
pavement, fittings of carved oak of antique de-
signs, and an altar of marble richly gilt." The
chapel was dedicated to St. Austin, and the
services were celebrated with all the pomp of
ecclesiastical ceremony. Most of the brethren
connected with St. Austin's were men of ample
private means, and all wore, both in chapel and
in the street, the black gown of the order. "It

LITERATURE AND ART

645

was a hotbed of so-called Romanism," Mr.
Jackson has said, "and glorious days they
were. Life was then worth living — filled as it
was with beautiful thoughts — surrounded as
we then were with those in whose souls was
found no guile." It is not to be wondered at
that the idealism of this brotherhood of wor-
shipers exerted a powerful fascination over
Water Pater's mind. He would often seek re-
laxation from his Oxford studies in brief visits
to London, where he stayed with Jackson and
engaged in long and animated conversations on
all the deepest problems of life. The friend-
ship ripened, and furnished the inspiration out
of which grew Pater's masterpiece, "Marius the
Epicurean." To quote from Mr. Wright's nar-
rative :

" 'Marius' is the history less of a man than of a
mind — the mind to a considerable extent of his
friend, Richard C. Jackson. . . . Few of the
incidents in Marius's career occurred to Mr. Jack-
son. For them Pater drew on his own life. But
in sketching Marius, Pater mingled his mind with
that of his friend, and Flavian is also a compound
of himself and another. But all Pater's charac-
ters are composite. Marius, who, like Peter, had
at an early age lost his father, is brought up in
the religion of Numa, and, as the head of his
house, takes a leading part in its religious cere-
monies. 'Only one thing distracted him — a cer-
tain pity at the bottom of his heart, and almost
on his lips, for the sacrificial victims.' In this he
resembled the child Walter Pater, who had 'an
almost diseased sensibility to the spectacle of suf-
fering' ; indeed, the opening chapters of 'Marius'
and the autobiographical 'Child in the House' are
almost parallel studies.

"All the notes required for the descriptive por-
tions of 'Marius,' including the accounts of Mar-
cus Aurelius, Lucian, and Apuleius, were taken
from books in Mr. Jackson's library at Grosvenor
Park ; for Pater, as we have seen, had no scarce
and curious books of his own, while Mr. Jackson
possessed, and still possesses, one of the most
valuable private libraries in England. 'It is true,'
Pater once said to Mr. Jackson, 'that I could ob-
tain the various editions of the classics and the
lives of the men who lived in the time of Marius,
with their precepts, at the Bodleian, but I in-
finitely prefer to have what I require associated
independently with you, a single human being in
whose company I rejoice to be.' "

During the late eighties and early nineties
Walter Pater gathered around him in Oxford
a most brilliant circle of young Englishmen.
If Jackson's personality and environment may
be said to have suggested "Marius the Epicu-
rean," it was Veargett William Maughan, an
Oxford student cut down in his prime, who in-
spired the unfinished biographical romance,
"Gaston de Latour." A third formative and
inspiring influence in Patei's life was C. L.
Shadwell, in his time "the handsomest man in
the university — with a face like those to be

seen on the finer Attic coins." Pater selected
Shadwell as his traveling companion through
Italy, and dedicated to him "The Renaissance."

Some interesting glimpses are afforded
by Mr. Wright of the men — most of them
now famous — who acclaimed Pater's genius
while he was still comparatively obscure.
Among the first were Edmund Gosse and Will-
iam Sharp. Among the last, it must be said
frankly, were Pater's Oxford colleagues.
Strange stories were told in Oxford about Wal-
ter Pater and his esoteric cult, and perhaps
these may have served to prejudice the criti-
cal judgment. Jowett, the Master of Balliol,
bluntly expressed his disapproval of "The
Renaissance," on the ground that it seemed to
countenance a "hedonist" philosophy, and
Pater was so sensitive to this and similar
criticisms that he gave his sanction to an edi-
tion of the book that was "expurgated," so to
speak. But later he insisted on restoring the
text in its entirety.

Walter Pater's reputation undoubtedly suf-
fered by reason of the unbalanced lives of
some of his disciples. Oscar Wilde was one
of these. Pater had no more devoted cham-
pion than Wilde. Says Mr. Wright :

. "Wilde, who treated all other men as intellec-
tually his inferiors, used to say that Pater was
the only human being who 'staggered' him. As
time went on he treated Pater almost as a divin-
ity, and when writing him a letter, or sending him
a book, he loved to begin, French fashion, 'Hom-
age to the great master !"

Lionel Johnson, a young poet of genius who
died as Poe died, was one of Pater's most en-
thusiastic admirers. "He is at once my envy
and my despair," said Johnson ; "he is a lit-
erary vampire, sucking the life and poetry out
of the heart of every man he meets." George
Moore, the subversive novelist and essayist,
also fell strongly under Pater's spell. "My
dear Audacious Moore," Pater addressed him,
in acknowledging a copy of "Confessions of a
Young Man." But it was Arthur Symons
who was destined to be influenced most deeply
by the master-spirit of Pater. "Upon him, in-
deed, if upon any man," declares Mr. Wright,
"the mantle of Pater has fallen. With Pater
as an inspiration, Mr. Symons has forged for
himself a style that is at once distinct and
fulgid."

In truth, the "circle" of Walter Pater has
left its impress on all the intellectual life of our
time, but it is not just to hold him responsible
for the acts or the opinions of any of his fol-
lowers. He stands alone, in splendid isola-
tion. His genius, to use one of his own
epithets, is "columnar."

Religion and Ethics

A COLLEGE PRESIDENT'S APPEAL TO THE
YOUTH OF AMERICA

[^HE best political economy," says
Emerson, "is the care and culture
of men;" and it is in this spirit
that David Starr Jordan, President
of Stanford University, addresses the youth of
America in his latest brochure.* His appeal
may be described as, in the largest sense, an
argument for education, and he takes as his
text the v^^ords : "The whole of your life must
be spent in your own company, and only the
educated man is good company to himself."
With this statement he links another : "The
world turns aside to let any man pass who
knows whither he is going!"

President Jordan urges his conviction that
the university is becoming to a greater and
greater extent the molder of character in
our time. "All the strong men of the future,"
he predicts, "will be college men, for the day
is coming when the man of force realizes that
through the college his power will be made
greater." The term "college spirit" has been
applied to many different things ; but of all its
meanings the best, in President Jordan's
opinion, is that "comradery among free
spirits" of which Ulrich von Hutten has writ-
ten. It was this that the scientist Agassiz
had in mind when, half a century ago, he
spoke of his college days in the University of
Munich in the following terms :

"The University had opened under the most
brilliant auspices. Almost all of our professors
were also eminent in some department of science
or literature. They were not men who taught
from text-books, or even read lectures made up
from extracts from original works. They them-
selves were original investigators, daily contrib-
uting to the sum of human knowledge. And they
were not only our teachers but our friends. The
best spirit prevailed among the professors and
students. We were often the companions of their
walks, often present at their discussions, and
when we met to give lectures among ourselves,
as we often did, our professors were among our
listeners, cheering and stimulating us in all our
efforts after independent research.

"My room was our meeting place : bedroom,
lecture- room, study, museum, library, fencing-
room all in one. Students and professors used
to call it the Little Academy.

"Here, in this little room, Schimpfer and Braun

•College and the Man: An Address to American
Youth. By David Starr Jordan. American Unitarian
Association.

first, discussed their newly discovered laws of
phyllotaxy, that marvelous rhythmical arrange-
ment of the leaves of plants. Here Michahelles
first gave us the story of his explorations of the
Adriatic. Here Born exhibited his preparations
of the anatomy of the lamprey. Here Rudolphi
told us the results of his exploration of the Bava-
rian Alps and the Baltic. Here Dr. Dollinger
himself first showed to us, his students, before he
gave them to the scientific world, his preparations
of the villi of the alimentary canal ; and here
came the great anatomist, Meckel, to see my col-
lection of fish-skeletons of which he had heard
from Dollinger."

Thus it was, comments President Jordan,
at Munich eighty years ago ; and the influence
of that little band of students is still felt in the
world of science. He continues :

"Such a history, in a degree, has been that of
many other associations of students, interested in
other branches of thought, in history, in philos-
ophy, in philology, in religion.

"We are told that Methodism first arose in a
little band of college students, interested in the
realities of religion, amid ceremonies and forms.

"At Williams College, in Massachusetts, there
stands a monument which marks the spot where
a haystack once stood. Under this haystack
three college students knelt and promised each
other to devote their lives to the preaching of the
gospel of Christ among the heathen. Thus was
founded the first foreign mission of America."

A college mistakes its function. President
Jordan goes on to say, if it thinks it can make
young men and women moral beings by stand-
ing over them in loco parentis, with a rod in
hand and spy-glasses on its nose. The real
morality is the result of inner impulse, not of
outward compulsion ; and the college gives its
truest lesson in morality when it "strengthens
the student in his search for truth," and "en-
courages manliness by the putting away of
childish things." "Take the dozen students at
Munich," exclaims President Jordan, "of
whom Agassiz has spoken. Do you suppose
that Dr. Dollinger caught any of these cheat-
ing on examinations? Did the three young
men at Williams College choose the haystack
rather than the billiard hall for fear of the
college faculty? The love of knowledge, the
growth of power, the sense of personal respon-
sibility, these are our college agencies for
keeping off our evil."

RELIGION AND ETHICS

6a7

As in moral so in religious matters, says
President Jordan, the college must operate
through work and through example. More
specifically he writes:

"The college cannot make a student moral or
religious through enforced attendance at church
or chapel. It cannot arouse the spiritual element
in his nature by any system of demeHt marks.
But let him find somewhere the work of his life.
Let the thoughts of the student be free as the air.
Give him a message to speak to other men, and
when he leaves your care you need fear for him
not the world nor the flesh nor the devil !

"If your Christianity or your creed seem to
the student to need a bias in its favor, if it seem
to him unable to hold its own in a free investiga-
tion, he will despise it, and if he is honest he
will turn from it. Religion must come to him as
a 'strong and mighty angel,' asking no aid of
church or state in its battle against error and
wrong."

We are wont to regard our age as pre-emi-
nently "practical," and we are apt to speak
slightingly of dreams and visions. There are
times when we seem to be skeptical as to the
value of truth and beauty, of zeal and devo-

tion, of religion and piety, as tho all these
things, for sale in the city markets and shop-
worn through the ages, were going at a sacri-
fice. But "the practical," as President Jordan
reminds us, "rests on the ideal." He adds, in
concluding:

"It is the noblest duty of higher education, I
believe, to fill the mind of the youth with enthu-
siasms, thoughts of the work a man can do, with
visions of how this man can do it. It should
teach him to believe that love and faith and zeal
and devotion ^re real things, things of great
worth, things that are embodied in the lives of
men and women. It should teach him to know
these men and women, whether of the present or
of the past, and knowing them his life will be-
come insensibly fashioned after theirs. It should
lead him to form plans for the part he has to
play in science, in art, in religion. His work may
fall far short of what he would make it, but a
noble plan must precede each worthy achieve-
ment.

" 'Colleges can only serve us,' says Emerson,
'when they aim not to drill but to create. They
bring every ray of various genius to their hos-
pitable halls, and by their combined effort set the
heart of the youth in flame.' "

FREDERIC HARRISON'S APOLOGIA

S ONE who is proud to be known as
"the unshrinking follower of a new
I belief," and who feels that many of
% the prevailing religious ideas are lit-
tle better than "the barbarous magic of unciv-
ilized ages," Mr. Frederic Harrison, the emi-
nent English writer, has lately acceded* to
repeated requests to tell the story of his spirit-
ual development. The "new belief" to which
he refers is, of course. Positivism, and the
doctrines which he champions have had his
undivided allegiance for upward of thirty
years. During a large part of that time he
has served a Positivist congregation in Lon-
don in the capacity of public speaker and
leader.

At the outset of his story, Mr. Harrison
makes it clear that nothing could have been
farther from the Positivist thought than his
early environment and upbringing. His father
was a stanch High Churchman, and all the
influences brought to bear on him in his home
and school life were such as to implant a
strong taste for the ritual of the Anglican
Church. "I have always felt," he says, "that
the English Church service, regarded as a
dramatic composition, is one of the most noble

*The Creed of a Layman. By Frederic Harrison. The
Macmillan Company.

products of our literature." And when as a
schoolboy he passed an autumn in Scotland, he
was "chilled to the bone" by the Presbyterian
form of worship. He must have been a con-
scientious boy, for he testifies that he prayed
earnestly night and morning and on all occa-
sions when he seriously wanted anything. "I
felt myself living in the eyes of God, and I
honestly believed that the Almighty would
vouchsafe to give me a school prize, or ordain
fine weather for a holiday, or even enable me
to get a good score a'- a cricket match, if I
only were to besiege the Throne of Mercy with
the needful persistence."

To Mr. Harrison in his present frame of
mind this boyish attitude toward prayer seems
so "disgusting" that he feels ashamed to write
it down. He goes on to say :

"It was not till manhood that I fully saw all
the folly, meanness, selfishness of this practice.
When we reflect what Christians conceive their
Maker to be — the IneflFable Majesty which has
created the Infinite Universe — when we think
that each of us is but an infinitesimal mite, on
one of the minor satellites that whirl round one
of the smaller of the thirty millions of suns —
when we hear this mite asking the Almighty to
suspend in its favor the laws of life and death,
of sunshine and rain, it may be, to help it draw
a lucky number in the ballot, to win a prize in a
lottery, or to ruin a rival — the moral basis of

648

CURRENT LITERATURE

ordinary prayer becomes too horrible, too gro-
tesque to be endured."

At the age of eighteen Mr. Harrison went
to Oxford, where he found all the elements
of theological inquiry and debate. His school
taste for ritualism and his acquiescence m or-
thodox doctrine were soon transformed mto a
sense of suspended judgment and anxious
thirst for wider knowledge. He began to read
Aristotle and Plato and the history of philos-
ophy. He became acquainted with arguments
bearing on the inspiration of Scripture and
the credibility of the creeds that completely
shook his hold on the conventional orthodoxy.
"What moved me far more than the critical
assaults of Strauss or of Francis Newman," he
says, "was the way in which devout and noble
spirits, such as that of F. Robertson, of F. D.
Maurice, of Francis Newman, Theodore
Parker, together with followers of Dr. Arnold,
of Coleridge, and the poets Tennyson and
Browning, struck off the fetters of what Car-
lyle called 'the rags of Houndsditch.' Maurice,
Coleridge, Carlyle and F. Newman, in differ-
ent ways and often without intending it, would
.fill me with horror and shame at many passages
of Scripture and many dogmas of the Church
which I felt to be profoundly repugnant to
sound morality and even to human nature."

It was during his early college period of
religious stress and uncertainty that Mr. Har-
rison' first fell under the influence of August
Comte and the Positive philosophy. He read
Comte in Harriet Martineau's translation, and
in the summaries of Littre and G. H. Lewes,
and became so much interested in his ideas
that he went to Paris to see him. The great
man received him with simple dignity, and in
a lengthy conversation outlined the principal
conclusions at which he had arrived. Mr.
Harrison was profoundly impressed. He says :

"This interview with Comte did not make me a
Positivist; I was not yet twenty-three ; his
'Politique' was unfinished, and I did not yet know
one of his books in the original. But the ex-
traordinary clearness and organic order of his
conceptions deeply impressed me. His power of
oral exposition was consummate, for his spoken
word was as brilliant, epigrammatic and lumi-
nous as his books are close, abstract and diffi-
cult. On each point that I begged him to
explain he spoke for ten or twenty minutes with
a rapid and lucid analysis, paused, and passed
to the next. It made me think of the way in
which Plato taught in the Academy, for I have
never heard before or since any teaching so in-
structive."

One of the immediate results of his inter-
view with Comte was the resolve to acquaint
himself thoroly with the elements of physi-

cal science, and during the period that fol-
lowed, while he was studying law in London,
he mastered the text-books of Herschel, Tyn-
dall, Huxley, Darwin and Herbert Spencer.
In i860 he wrote his first article— a theologi-
cal paper dealing with the famous "Essays
and Reviews" of Benjamin Jowett, Dr. (after-
wards Archbishop) Temple, and Mark Patti-
son. He sympathized with their views, but
felt that their position as Church of England
ministers was unjustifiable. His article was
taken more seriously than he had expected,
and the responsibility of finding himself in the
midst of a fierce theological struggle made
him resolve to formulate his own belief. In
his diary, a year later, he wrote out a kind of
Credo :

"I believe that before all things needful, be-
yond all else is true religion. This only can
give wisdom, happiness, and goodness to men, and
a nobler life to mankind. Nothing but this can
sustain, guide and satisfy all fives, control all
characters and unite all men . . . .

"What is this true religion? We know not.
As yet, it is not. Yet nearer, perhaps, than we
think. Much is now clear. Much is coming
into light. Dimly we may now see a faith guid-
ing all hearts and hves in one.

"When I contemplate the great harmony which
stretches through man and nature, and that vast
whole which lives, moves and grows together by
equal laws, in natural concord, sympathy and
help, I cannot but recognize a guiding Hand,
and acknowledge one great Author. All-pow-
erful? I know not. All-wise? I cannot tell.
All-good? I dare not say. Yet surely this vast
frame does testify to a Power very awful. Its
symmetry points to a Mind truly sublime. And
the perpetual goodness, tenderness and beauty
of all breathing things are witness to a Goodness
truly adorable. ...

"Therefore, I believe that God is: who made,
loves and protects man and all things.

"How then shall we know Him?— do His will?
serve Him? Has He left us without help, with-
out light, without promise? Inspiration — Revela-
tion—Gospel— there is plainly none. The
diviner's rod is past. The oracles are dumb.
The tables of stone are broken. The ancient
legends are cast aside. So too are old fictions of
innate knowledge, of conscious Truth — of
Natural Theology. Scripture and Miracles alike
are past. Man must be his own Gospel. He
must reveal truth to himself— by himself. He
must found, or frame, his own Religion — or
must have none.

"Prayer indeed is well — so far as it is good for
the mind to dwell in thought, and the heart to
rest — on that Power which governs all. Yet is
this saying true — lahorare est orare. Strength is
lost in vain meditation and in vague yearning —
it is misspent in personal petitions and secret
ecstasies. To do right is better than to feel
right. To live is better than to adore.

"What should Soul be save that which each
man feels to be — ^himself — his sense of force —
his conscious being? Will this survive the
grave? — some ask. How can I tell? Why should

RELIGION AND ETHICS

649

it? Why should it not? Why need we ask?
"I may be glad to hope it — willing to trust it —
yet little curious to know. I — myself — my influ-
ence— my acts — my thoughts — my life, most
surely shall and must outlive the grave, and live
in others for ever, growing through all time in
new conditions and extent, mingled for ever with
the great current of all human life. In this
faith I rest ; towards this I labor : more trusting
and more clear each day."

In the forty-six years that have passed
since these meditations were written it was
inevitable that a change of view should have
occurred. But this change, says Mr. Har-
rison, was "a change of degree rather than of
substance, practical more than intellectual." In
the main it was "a gradual fading away of
the conception of Personality behind the mys-
tery of the Universe and a clearer perception
of the Human Providence that controls Man's
destiny on earth." He continues :

"The Supreme Power on this petty earth can
be nothing else but the Humanity which, ever
since fifty thousand — it may be one hundred and
fifty thousand — years, has slowly but inevitably
conquered for itself the predominance of all
living things on this earth and the mastery of its
material resources. It is the collective stream of
Civilization, often baffled, constantly misled,
grievously sinning against itself from time to
time, but in the end victorious ; winning certainly
no heaven, no millennium of the saints, but
gradually over great epochs rising to a better and
a better world."

Mr. Harrison urges his conviction that faith
in Humanity, whether we are conscious of it
or not, already furnishes the motives out of
which we act.

"When the politician is troubled about the
framing of a new law, the complications of inter-
national policy, the reform of an ancient abuse,
does he to-day 'seek counsel of the Lord,' as the
Ironsides did, when the Bible was the literal
Word of God ; does he 'wrestle with his Maker
in the spirit,' with groans, tears and the pouring
forth of texts? When an English official has
to face an earthquake, or the eruption of a vol-
cano, does he fall on his knees' in the midst of
the falling walls, Hke a negro Baptist in Jamaica,
or rush to crowd the churches, like a Neapolitan
peasant or a Santiago Spaniard? The cultivated
and practical man of to-day flies instantly to
human resources, is guided by human science
and staves off suffering and death from thou-
sands by calling in all the resources of learning,
foresight, presence of mind, which the Provi-
dence of Humanity has trained him to use.

"In the twentieth century the business of real
life turns round Industry, Inventions, Art, Vital
appliances in all forms. We battle with malaria,
plagues, famines, all noxious conditions , by
scientific research, infinite patience and continu-
ous observation of facts. We add a tenth to the
average of life; we spare intolerable agonies to
untold millions ; we have halved the cruel holo-
caust of infants. For nearly two thousand years
jnillions' of prayers have ascended day by day to

Christ, Virgin, Saints and even to devils. All
was in vain. The prayerful attitude of mind
much added to the horror and the slaughter, as
mothers flung themselves on their dying and in-
fected children and fanatical devotion thrust
aside all sanitary provisions with its besotted
pietism. Humanity only recovers its health and
peace in proportion as Theology slowly dies
down. Which providence protects the children
of men most lovingly, most wisely — the Divine
Providence, or the' Human?"

But the real test of any religious system, he
admits, lies in its power to deal with the prob-
lems of death. What has Positivism to say
on this point? Mr. Harrison replies:

"The Human Faith teaches us from childhood,
not that this life is nothing worth, a vain and
fleeting shadow, but rather that this life is all in
all, and not an hour of it but is reckoned up as
a trust to be used or wasted, spent for the good
of those who are here and who shall come after
us ; that the value of each human soul is in the
good work it has done on earth. . . .

"This sure and certain hope, which we call
the subjective Immortality of the Soul, is wholly
independent of metaphysical hypotheses, for it is
a plain conclusion of moral and social science.
The sum total of each active life must infallibly
act and react on all those whom it has ever
touched directly or indirectly. The mother
makes the infant; the home makes the boy and
girl ; the family makes society, as society makes
the family, as Englishmen make England, as
England makes Englishmen. The evolution of
civilization, the continuity of any nation, society
or institution, would be impossible but for this
personal and social tradition of thought and
feeling and energy. We are all members one of
another, as the great Apostle said ; but we are all
in a sense the makers one of another.

"In the case of the great this is too obvious to
be gainsaid. Homer, Jesus, St. Paul, Dante,
Shakespeare are far more truly alive to-day than
they were during their hard, troubled and
vagrant lives : — to the great of their tihie it
seemed a life obscure or despicable. But the same
sociologic truth is just as certain relatively in
the case of the humble. Their lives persist for
what they were really worth, whether they know
it themselves, whether others remember it or
not. _ It is an indestructible attribute of hu-
manity."

Mr. Harrison avers that if he were a benefi-
cent millionaire, he would endow no more uni-
versities or libraries until he had built "the
grandest and most beautiful Temple on this
earth — I think the type of St. Sophia of By-
zantium— or the original Pantheon of Rome —
wherein the most exquisite choral service
should be chanted at least three times each
day." And there, he says, "not troubling my-
self too much about the words, I would sit in
the outer porch for hours, and let the music of
it flow over my soul. One day — I know full
well — the Temples of Humanity will resound
to such music — but then with music set to the
true words."

650

CURRENT LITERATURE

HOW MRS. EDDY WON OUT

NE of our leading newspapers has
lately been indulging in speculation
as to what the result might have
been if Mohammedanism or Chris-
tianity had been started in an age and a
country which were blessed with daily and
hourly journals, and with illustrated maga-
zines. We cannot know, but it is reasonable
to suppose that the course of history might
have been materially altered, and that much
theological bitterness and profitless contro-
versy over moot points would have been
avoided. And now that Christian Science, an
enigmatical religious force of unique power,
is taking root in many countries, it ought to be
regarded as a matter for profound gratitude
that the doctrines of the new movement and
the personality of its venerated leader, are
being subjected to the most searching historical
criticism.

It is safe to say that the record entitled,
"Mary Baker G. Eddy: The Story of Her
Life and the History of Christian Science,"
now being indited for McClure's Magazine by
Georgine Milmine, is unparalleled in the an-
nals of religious history. No one, after read-
ing it, could doubt that Mrs. Eddy is a woman
of genius. She may be a charlatan, but if so,
says Miss Milmine, she is "the queen of char-
latanry." Here was a woman, a farmer's
daughter in humble circumstances and without
unusual physical charms. For years she was
practically confined to her bed with spinal
complaint. She had so little means and influ-
ence that it took her months to save up enough
money to make the journey from New Hamp-
shire, the State in which she was living, to
Portland, Me., where her pains were some-
what mitigated by the famous mental healer,
Phineas Parkhurst Quimby. Her first husband
died. She was separated from her little son
when he was four years of age. Her second
marriage, to a dentist, was unhappy, and re-
sulted in a separation. At her wits' end to
know how to live or where to live, she boarded
for years with simple working people in
Massachusetts villages. She attracted, but
seemingly could not hold, the friendship of
these various households. In almost every
case she was welcomed at first, and afterwards
requested to leave. She was too uncomfort-
able a visitor. Her theories led to heated argu-
ments and family dissensions. In one instance
Mrs. Eddy (at that time Mrs. Glover) was
forcibly ejected from the house of a Mrs.

Nathaniel Webster, an Amesbury spiritualist,
with whom she had been living. As Mrs.
Webster's granddaughter tells the story:

"My father commanded Mrs. Glover to leave,
and when she stedfastly refused to go, he had
her trunk dragged from her room and set it out-
side the door, insisted upon her also going out
the door, and when she was outside he closed th^
door and locked it. I have frequently heard my
father describe this event in detail, and I have
heard him say that he had never expected, in his
whole life, to be obliged to put a woman into the
street. It was dark at the time, and a heavy rain
was falling. My grandparents and my father
considered it absolutely necessary to take this
step, harsh and disagreeable as it seemed to them."

Thereupon, Miss Sarah Bagley, an Amesbury
dressmaker, took compassion on the friendless
woman, and extended the hospitality of her
own home. But Mrs. Eddy never stayed long
in one place. We next hear of her at Stough-
ton, where she lived for awhile with a Mrs.
Sally Wentworth and her two children, to
whom she seemed genuinely devoted. This ex-
periment turned out almost as disastrously as
that in Amesbury. She made a deep impression
on the lady of the house, who used to say, "If
ever there was a saint upon this earth it is
that woman," but this feeling of admiration
was not shared by her married son. Mr.
Wentworth was — not unnaturally — indignant
because Mrs. Eddy [Mrs. Glover] had at-
tempted to persuade his wife to leave him, and
to go away with her and practice the Quimby
treatment. After this, Mrs. Eddy's former
kindly feeling toward the Wentworths seems
to have been turned into hatred, and a caller
still remembers going to the house one day
and being disturbed by the sound of violent
knocking on the floor upstairs. Mrs. Went-
worth rather shamefacedly explained that her
son was sick in bed and that her visitor was
deliberately pounding on the floor above his
head ! It is hardly to be wondered at that Mr.
Wentworth, on his recovery, insisted on Mrs.
Eddy's immediate departure. She went, but
under peculiar circumstances. She chose a
day when all the members of the family were
away from home, and locked the door of her
bedroom behind her. And, then, according to
Mr. Wentworth's account:

"I and my mother went into the room which
she had occupied. We were the first persons to
enter the room after Mrs. Glover's departure.
We found every breadth of matting slashed up
through the middle, apparently with some sharp

RELIGION AND ETHICS

651

instrument. We also found the feather-bed all
cut to pieces. We opened the door of a closet.
On the floor was a pile of newspapers almost
entirely consumed. On top of these papers was
a shovelful of dead coals. These had evidently
been left upon the paper by the last occupant.
The only reasons that they had not set the house
on fire evidently were because the closet door had
been shut, and the air of the closet, so dead, and
because the newspapers were piled flat and did
not readily ignite — were folded so tight, in other
words, that they would not blaze."

During these years of wandering, of dis-
couragement, of hysteria, of strange, passion-
ate resentment, Mrs. Eddy carried with her,
as her most treasured possession, a Quimby
manuscript. She talked of it constantly, and
of the Quimby system of healing; and she said
that she was writing a book of her own. Her
speech, says Miss Milmine, was "highly col-
ored," and she had "odd clothes" and "grand
ways." The writer continues :

"Her interest in strange and mysterious sub-
jects, her high mission to spread the truths of her
dead master, made her an interesting figure in a
humdrum New England village, and her very
eccentricities and affectations varied the monotony
of a quiet household. Her being 'different' did,
after all, result in material benefits to Mrs.
Glover. All these people, with whom she once
stayed, love to talk of her, and most of them are
glad to have known her, — even those who now
say that the experience was a costly one. She
was like a patch of color in those gray communi-
ties. She was never dull, her old hosts say, and
never commonplace. She never laid aside her
regal air; never entered a room or left it like
other people. There was something about her
that continually excited and stimulated, and she
gave people the feeling that a great deal was hap-
pening."

Mrs. Eddy's friendships were in all cases the
results of congeniality in religious thought,
and wherever she went she taught her doctrine
of mental healing. "I learned this from Dr.
Quimby," she used to say, quaintly and im-
pressively, "and he made me promise to teach
it to at least two persons before I die." Miss
Bagley, the Amesbury dressmaker, developed
into quite a successful mental healer under her
tuition, but the first of her pupils to exert any
wide influence was Hiram S. Crafts, a shoe-
maker of East Houghton. In 1867 he went
into practice on principles she had laid down.
During the same year he admitted her into
his household. The result was disastrous.
While living there she urged him to divorce
his wife on the ground that she stood in the
way of success in the healing business. This
Mr. Crafts refused to do; and finally Mrs.
Eddy passed on to make new connections.

While living in Amesbury, more than two
years before, she had undertaken the instruc-

tion of a boy in whom she saw exceptional
possibilities, and who was destined to play an
important part in her history. To take up
Miss Milmine's narrative:

"When she first met Richard Kennedy, he was
a boy of eighteen, ruddy, sandy-haired, with an
unfailing flow of good spirits and a lively wit
which did not belie his Irish ancestry. From his
childhood he had made his own way, and he was
then living at the Websters' and was working in
a box factory. Mrs. Glover recognized in his
enthusiastic temperament and readiness at mak-
ing friends, excellent capital for a future practi-
tioner. He studied zealously with her while she
remained at the Websters', and when she was
compelled to leave the house, Kennedy, with
Quixotic loyalty becoming his years, left with
her. After she went to Stougliton, Mrs. Glover
wrote to him often, and whenever he could spare
the time from his factory work, he went over
from Amesbury to take a lesson.

"When Mrs. Glover returned to Amesbury in
1870, she regarded Kennedy as the most promis-
ing of her pupils ; he was nearly twenty-one, and
she felt that he was sufficiently well-grounded in
the principles of mind-cure to begin practicing.
Mrs. Glover accordingly made up her mind to try
again the experiment which had failed in the case
of Hiram Crafts: to open an office with one of
her students, and through him advertise her
Science and extend her influence. She herself
had not up to this time achieved any considerable
success as a healer, and she had come to see that
her power lay almost exclusively in teaching.
Without a practical demonstration of its benefits,
however, the theory of her Science excited little
interest, and it was in conjunction with a practic-
ing student that she could teach rnost effectively.
She entered into an agreement with young Ken-
nedy to the effect that they were to open an office
in Lynn, Mass., and were to remain together three
years."

Mrs. Eddy's removal to Lynn, and partner-
ship with Richard Kennedy, mark the real be-
ginning of her success. The strangely assorted
couple — at this time Mrs. Eddy was fifty years
old — hired ofl5ces on the second floor of a
schoolhouse, furnished them with the slender
means at their disposal, and put a sign on a
tree in the yard, reading simply: "Dr. Ken-
nedy." Patients began to come in before the
first week was over, and within three months
the young man's practice was flourishing. Mrs.
Eddy remained in the background, but was
known to be the inspirer of the whole project.
"She began in those days," says Miss Milmine,
"to sense the possibilities of the principle she
taught, and to see further than a step ahead.
She often told Kennedy that she would one
day establish a great religion which would
reverence her as its founder and source.
'Richard,' she would declare, looking at him
intently, 'you will live to hear the church-bells
ring out my birthday.' '* Her prophecy was
destined to be fulfilled.

652

CURRENT LITERATURE

The history of the growth and development
of the Christian Science movement in Lynn is
the history of the triumph of the thought and
personaHty of a single woman, who believed,
with an apparently limitless intensity, in her-
self and in the power of her message to hu-
manity. She might alienate her ablest follow-
ers— her partnership with Kennedy was short-
lived; she might become involved, as she did,
in lawsuits with those who ought to have been
her stanchest supporters; but the progress of
the movement was never in doubt.

By 1875 Christian Science had its official
headquarters at Number 8, Broad street. Mrs.
Eddy lived in the house, and wrote "Science
and Health" in a little room under the sky-
light. From here she organized classes of
students, and planned her lectures. The hum-
ble circle which had gathered around her was
daily increasing. "Her following," says Miss
Milmine, "grew not only in numbers but in
zeal; her influence over her students and their
veneration of her were subjects of comment
and astonishment in Lynn." The writer adds :

"Of some of the pupils it could be truly said
that they lived only for and through Mrs. Glover.
They continued to attend in some manner to their
old occupations, but they became like strangers
to their own families, and their personalities
seemed to have undergone an eclipse. Like their

teacher, they could talk of only one thing, and
had but one vital interest. One disciple let two
of his three children die under metaphysical treat-
ment without a murmur. Another married the
woman whom Mrs. Glover designated. Two stu-
dents furnished the money to bring out her first
book, tho Mrs. Glover at that time owned the
house in which she lived, and her classes were
fairly remunerative."

To this day, Mrs. Eddy's students — and
among them some who have long been ac-
counted her enemies and whom she has
anathematized in print and discredited on the
witness-stand — declare that what they got
from her was beyond price. They speak of "a
certain spiritual or emotional exaltation which
she was able to impart in her class-room; a
feeling so strong that it was like the birth of
a new understanding and seemed to open to
them a new heaven and a new earth."

And this is the story of how one woman of
humble birth, hampered by sickness and a diffi-
cult temperament, without money and without
influence, succeeded in establishing a religious
cult. Pilgrims still visit in large numbers
the little "skylight room" in which "Science
and Llealth" was written. Surely their homage
is not without its significance. The doctrines
first promulgated there have spread to the ends
of the earth. The humble dwelling in Lynn
has been supplanted by churches of marble.

PRAGMATISM, THE NEWEST PHILOSOPHY

HERE is a word that has been much
bandied about in intellectual circles
during recent months. Very few
people know what it means, and
until now only a few have seemed to care.
Yet one of its interpreters prophesies that it
will create a commotion in the world of
thought beside which the fight over Dar-
winism will be as a kindergarten game to
college football. "It will be worth living to
see !" he exclaims.

The word is "pragmatism," and it represents
a new phase of philosophic thought, or a new
spiritual tendency, as one may choose to call it.
Its prophet-in-chief in America is the eminent
psychologist, William James, who has given
up his Harvard professorship to devote him-
self to its propaganda. He is not the only
American thinker who has become enamored
of the new theory. Professor Dewey, for-
merly of Chicago University, now of Columbia,
and Dr. Paul Cams, the scholarly editor of
The Monist and The Open Court, have both
evinced a large degree of sympathy with

pragmatism. The idea has taken root in
several foreign countries. In Florence, a
group of young Italians have established, a
pragmatist club and journal. In Oxford Uni-
versity the principle, in its wider sense, is
represented by F. C. S. Schiller. In Germany,
Professor Ostwald, the distinguished physicist,
has cut himself loose from his university posi-
tion to grapple with new problems in the
pragmatic spirit. And everywhere the move-
ment, like other pioneer movements that have
preceded it, tends to arouse either ardent
championship or bitter hostility.

According to Edwin E. Slosson, literary
editor of the New York Independent, the
essence of pragmatism is action. "It values
ideas," he explains, "by their consequences.
Those that have no consequences it casts out
of consideration." The original statement of
the pragmatic method, formulated by Peirce
and quoted by James, is as follows:

"If it can make no practical difference which
of two statements is true, then they are really
one statement in tWP verbal forms ; if it can make

RELIGION AND ETHICS

653

no practical difference whether a given statement
be true or false, then the statement has no real
meaning."

This statement has been amplified by Pro-
fessor James in two further formulas which he
is repeating in his lectures and articles, name-
ly, (i) "The only meaning of truth is the pos-
sibility of verification by experience;" and (2)
"True is the term applied to whatever it is
practically profitable to believe."

The pragmatic method, as Professor Slosson
points out, has been for a long time accepted
as a matter of course in the laboratory of the
scientist. But scientific men have not taken
the trouble to formulate it. They have been
too busy using it to stop and look at it. To
quote :

"The layman — and with him must be included
all those who have merely learned science but
not used it — talks a great deal about 'the laws of
Nature,' which he regards as abstract, imrnutable,
universal and eternal edicts, part of which are
transcribed into the text-books. To the working
scientists they are only more or less convenient
formulas. . . . He regards these 'laws' with
no awe or reverence. He has no attachment for
any of them unless it happens to be one that he
has formulated himself. If he finds a new hypoth-
esis that works better he throws the old one aside
as he does his old model dynamo, or keeps it
around as handy still for doing some of the com-
mon work of the laboratory. Theories to the
scientist are neither true nor false. They are
only more or less useful. He neither believes nor
disbelieves them; he only uses them. It is, for
example, just as 'true,' using the word in its or-
dinary sense, to say that the sun goes around the
earth as to say that the earth goes around the
sun, for all motion is relative, and we can regard
either body as the stationary one or both as mov-
ing, as we choose. When we say that the state-
ment that the earth moves around the sun is the
'true' one, we merely mean that it is the more
convenient form of expression, for on this hypoth-
esis the paths of the earth and the other planets
become circles (or more accurately speaking, ir-
regular and eccentric spirals), while on the other
and older hypothesis their paths are very com-
plicated and difficult to handle mathematically.
The theory that the earth moves is not only sim-
pler than that of a stationary earth, but it is
wider in its scope. It explains more, that is, it
connects up with other knowledge, such as the
flattening at the poles. Copernicus, then, did not
discover a new fact about the solar system. He
only invented a lazier way of thinking about it."
Confined within the four walls of the
laboratory this conception of truth had the
"academic" air, and did not seem to touch
humanity vitally. But now the spirit of prag-
matism is boldly invading the field of meta-
physics, ethics, religion, sociology, politics,
history and education. Professor Slosson asks
us to try to imagine the revolutionary results
that would follow the application of the prag-
matic method to any of the old antinomies,

such as materialism-idealism, fate-freewill,
objective-subjective, monism-pluralism. He
continues :

"When the phrase 'the survival of the fittest'
first came into the world it was objected to on
opposite grounds. Some said it was a truism —
too obvious to need mentioning and leading to
nothing. Others said it was false, absurd and
dangerous doctrine, destructive of all morality if
followed to its logical conclusions. It is interest-
ing to note that pragmatism is now being met by
both these objections. If it is new it is nonsense;
if it is old it is obvious. Between these extreme
opponents there is the tertium quid, a more nu-
merous and cautious party, which virtually says,
'Well, if I admit that, what are you going to
prove by it?' The pragmatist, as one who be-
lieves in testing a theory by its consequences,
cannot find fault with this attitude. . . .

"Dewey's test of truth is its satisfactoriness, its
competency to give adequate satisfaction to all
legitimate human needs and aspirations. The op-
ponents of pragmatism interpret this to mean that
we can believe whatever we please, a denial of
the imperativeness of truth and duty. Dr. Francis
Patton of Princeton says it means that 'religion
is any old thing that works.' Carried to an ex-
treme in this direction it would lead to unlimited
individualism in philosophy and anarchy in ethics,
to Max Stirner's 'My truth is the truth.' But the
pragmatists check the drift in this direction by
the observation that our life philosophy must be
permanently satisfactory, not the caprice of a
momentary mood; it must be satisfactory to the
race as well as to the individual ; it must not
conflict with any of our other ideas; it must
harmonize with whatever we credit in the philos-
ophies of other people; it must connect up with
all we know of the past and with all we can fore-
tell of the future. Peirce bases his pragmatism
on the subordination of individual to collective
thought. Carried to an extreme in this direction,
it would lead to religions of authority and con-
formity. But the pragmatist is never an extrem-
ist. He always refuses to swim out of his depth
in the sea of speculation."

It is too early, says Professor Slosson, to tell
whither the pragmatic movement will lead. It
can hardly be defined yet as a philosophic
system, or a school of thought; rather it is
"the future focus of several very diverse but
converging lines of thought." He adds:

"It already has its schism; literally, pragmati-
cism, a narrower term which Peirce has recently
devised because his original word, pragmatism,
got carried away from him by the sweep of the
movement. Schiller in England prefers a still
wider term, humanism. Dewey refuses to wear
any tag. Santayana's recently published 'Life of
Reason' is officially declared by its publishers to
be of a pragmatic character. H. G. Wells, in his
addresses, 'The Discovery of the Future' and 'The
Imperfections of the Instrument,' attacks the
legal-minded man in a distinctly pragmatic way.
Ostwald in Germany and Poincare in France are
developing the new philosophy on its scientific
side. In so far as these tendencies can be
summed up in a phrase they may be said to be
leading toward a utilitarian metaphysics."

654

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE IMMORALITY OF OUR PRISON SYSTEM

VERY prison in the land," says
Brand Whitlock, the novelist-
Mayor of Toledo, "is a denial of
every church in the land. They
make a grim, stupendous paradox; if men be-
lieve in the churches as they say they do, they
ought to pull the prisons down; if they be-
lieve in the prisons, as they say they do, they
ought to pull the churches down."

These revolutionary sentiments may have
been engendered by the teachings and practice
of Mr. Whitlock's subversive predecessor in
the Mayoralty chair, the famous "Golden
Rule" Jones; but they first took definite shape
in his mind on the occasion of a visit to a cer-
tain police court where he saw, at close
quarters, the actual and sordid workings of
the machinery of the law, and came into a
realization of what he now regards as the
fundamental immorality of our whole penal
system. In communicating his state of mind
to the reading public (Everybody's Maga-
zine, May), Mr. Whitlock pictures the slow
procession of wretched beings who passed be-
fore his eyes that day; the judge with' "his
cynicisms, his cheap sarcasms, his petty
jokes;" the prosecutor with his professional
and detached manner; the "flippant reporters
striving to find some humorous side to all that
squalor and wretchedness ;" the clerk mumb-
ling the oaths to witnesses; the line of police-
men; the bailiff striking order now and then
with his gavel; the "ribald, morbid steaming
crowd, with its intent faces, finding a sensa-
tion for its starved life ;" then the "incessant,
interminable talking of the lawyers, their
patent insincerity, their sophistry — as if they
must never say a thing they meant !" And
finally, after seeing all this, Mr. Whitlock
found himself inquiring of his own soul:
What did it all mean? What good did it do?
He continues :

"Well might one marvel at the confused morals
involved in a scheme that wrung money, by way
of fines, from those who had sinned to obtain that
money, and paid it out again to support those who
condemned the sinners — that is, the judge, the
prosecutor, the clerk, the bailiff, the policemen,
etc. And then, it seemed strange that two men
could commit the same sin or break the same
law, and one escape by paying a fine and the
other go to prison because he lacked the money
to pay the fine. Nor could one reconcile with our
stated doctrine of crime and its punishment — to
say nothing of abstract justice — the fact that a
man, having been suspected of a crime which the
police could not prove he had committed, should
thereupon be punished, sent to prison, merely be-

cause they had suspected him ! These were a
few of the inconsistencies that anyone coming to
that scene with what the painters call a 'fresh
eye' could not have failed to notice."

But the inconsistencies of our penal system,
as Mr. Whitlock sees them, lie much deeper
than this ; they are rooted in the very heart
of the system itself. Every day, he remarks,
in every city in the United States, or in all
Christendom, for that matter, this same police-
court scene is repeated; and connected with it
are similar scenes in higher criminal courts.
And then come workhouses, jails, peniten-
tiaries, where these same persons are confined
for awhile, and whence they emerge, to appear
again in police courts, then in higher criminal
courts — then to disappear again in work-
houses, jails and penitentiaries. "They move
in a constant circle, an endless procession,
round and round, round and round — police
court, workhouse, and police court again ;
criminal court, penitentiary and criminal
court again; and so on, round and round,
over and over again the same. And this
goes on day after day, year after year,
and has been going on year after year,
decade after decade, century after century."
This process is defended on the ground
that it protects society, or atones for or
avenges wrong, or makes people moral ; but, in
Mr. Whitlock's opinion, it accomplishes none
of these results. He says:

"Any one can see that the number of 'criminals,'
as they are called, is never diminished, that no
one is ever benefited by the treatment, that the
procession is always the same, passing each day
under the eye of the magistrate, lifting its hag-
gard faces to him, only to be pushed on, and
down again into the black abyss. And when, as
is always happening, some one drops out because
he has succumbed to his miserable environment,
or has been worn to death by the brutal and
illegal punishments administered in prisons, or
has been killed legally, the gap is promptly filled,
the ranks close up, and the procession fares on."

In analyzing the public sentiment that but-
tresses existing prison systems, Mr. Whitlock
finds two main assumptions. The first is the
assumption that there is a certain portion of
mankind called the "criminal class," which
differs from all the rest, and not only wishes
to sin and commit crime, but is determined to
sin and commit crime. Now, according to
Mr. Whitlock's view, this idea is entirely
fallacious. "There is no 'criminal' class," he
asserts; "there is simply a punished class,
or a caught class." Any one can establish the

RELIGION AND ETHICS

655

truth of this statement, he thinks, by looking
at the world about him for a single day, or by
reading the newspapers. "He will see hun-
dreds of men who are doing wrong, commit-
ting sins and crimes and violating statutes, but
no one ever thinks of looking on them as be-
longing to the criminal class." To quote
further :

"Men commonly speak of the 'criminal' class
as if mankind were arbitrarily divided into two
distinct classes, one class composed wholly of
good' people, and the other of 'bad' people; and
they go on to speak as if the 'good' were grad-
ually rounding up all the 'bad' people, corraling
them m prisons, and branding them, and as if as
soon as they got them all caught and all penned
up the world would be 'good.' But the fact is
that there are no bad people and there are no
good people; that is, there are no people who
are wholly one thing or the other. All men, at
times, yielding to the impulse of the lower na-
ture, commit acts, that is, do things or say things
or think things— for a thought is a deed quite as
much as a blow is — that are wrong, and that thev
know to be wrong, the essence of the evil deecl
being, of course, in the knowledge that it is wrong
or immoral. For wrong is relative; a child in
the slums might swear or steal without wrong,
because it had never been taught better, because
it had had no higher ideal set before it, and was
wholly unconscious that there was any higher
ideal; whereas the child of the avenue could not
do these acts without committing wrong. Just so,
a man might kill without committing greater
wrong than you or I were we to lie about a
neighbor or refuse to stand for a principle we
know to be right.

"No, there are no 'good' people, and no 'bad'
people, but people merely, with good and bad
mysteriously mixed in all of them, but the good
strongly prevailing. The so-called 'hardened'
criminal — who quite often is not nearly so hard-
, ened in heart as the judge who sentenced him;
that is, not so wanting in sympathy, pit}^ love,
faith, all the higher human qualities, those that
are enianations from the divine and prove the
divine in man — does many more good things than
bad, has many kindly, generous, even noble im-
pulses, but perhaps has had little chance of de-
veloping them, or little incentive to do so. There
are as many kind deeds in prisons on the part
of the prisoners themselves as there are out, per-
haps relatively many more, considering how great
is the forgiveness that must be shown by the
prisoners toward those who put and keep them
there. There is no great moral difference to be
discerned between those in prison and those out-
side."

The second assumption against which Mr.
Whitlock protests is a prevailing idea that the
only way to stop persons from sinning is to
threaten, punish and hurt them — "to create, as
it were, some fearsome, horrible monster, and
set it up before them."

"The naive belief, which holds it as axiomatic
that punishment deters or atones, would be amus-
ing if it were not fraught with such terrible con-
sequences, not only to those on whom its pains

and penalties directly fall, but on all those upon
whom its consequences are indirectly visited, i. e.,
the officials concerned in this business of punish-
ing, who invariably become hardened and brutal-
ized by the cruel work they do. . . . The mag-
istrate looks in a book, reads the description of
the offense, reads the penalty, and guesses off a
number of days or dollars, and makes an an-
nouncement of this number. Then others take
the prisoner, and put him in a cage and keep him
there the prescribed number of days. Sometimes
they make him work while in the cage, and, when
they do, they take from him, by force, the product
of his labor — a thing, of course, they have no
right to do, no matter how he may have sinned.
Besides this, while in the prison he is compelled
to look on all sorts of misery and degradation,
and oftentimes to observe those in charge of him
themselves stealing from the state; and he is
compelled to endure or to witness hideous cor-
poral punishments. While in prison no high ideal
is set before him; he is subject to no reiining in-
fluences; all is low, degrading, brutal, and cruel,
so that he comes out from that cage embittered
in soul and a worse man than when he entered.
. . . The magistrate has no means of knowing
the really significant things about the man before
him, what strange, occult, mysterious currents of
human will or fate, moving in the man's mind or
in the minds of his ancestors, impelled him to his
deed; he has no means of knowing how far the
man has been the prey of economic forces that
the judge does not understand, or what hidden
physical defect may have created moral defect or
obliquity in him. All the judge knows is that in
a certain book it is printed that between minimum
and maximum limitations there is a mysterious
number of years that must be prescribed for bur-
glary, another number for larceny of a sum over
$35, another for stealing a horse, another for
forging a note, another for firing a dwelling; or
that there are so many days for larceny of a sum
under $35, so many for getting drunk, for creat-
ing a disturbance, and so on. It would be just
as sensible for doctors to say that a man with
typhoid fever must go to a hospital for two years,
a man with smallpox seven years, a man with
appendicitis three years ; a man with a boil thirty
days, a man with a carbuncle ninety days, a man
with a cold ten days, and so on. When a man is
cured of a physical disease, he is discharged from
a hospital ; when a man is cured of a moral dis-
ease, he should be discharged from a prison, that
is, assuming that a man could ever be cured of a
moral disease in a prison, which, of course, he
cannot — as society itself admits by continuing the
treatment when he does get out."

Some day, perhaps, says Mr. Whitlock, in
concluding, we shall learn that, properly, we
can have nothing to do with punishment. No
man, he thinks, is good enough or wise
enough to judge or to punish another man.
All that society has a right to do is to protect
itself by restraining those of proved dangerous
tendencies ; "it has no right to hurt them while
doing so; and its duty is to do all it can to
help the erring, wandering souls back into the
right path." A beginning in this direction has
already been made by the juvenile courts, and

656

CURRENT LITERATURE

the principle which they exemplify is undoubt-
edly growing in public esteem. The young
Mayor of Toledo pleads, with Tolstoy, for a
recognition of love, not of force nor of punish-
ment, as the final arbiter of human affairs ; and
he harks back to one of Emerson's essays for
a powerful vindication of his attitude:

"But there will dawn ere long on our politics, on
our modes of living, a nobler morning than that
Arabian faith, in the sentiment of love. This is

the one remedy for all ills, the panacea of nature.
We must be lovers, and at once the impossible
becomes possible. Our age and history, for 3,000
years, has not been the history of kindness, but
of selfishness. Our distrust is very expensive.
The money we spend for courts and prisons is
very ill laid out. We make, by distrust, the thief,
and burglar, and incendiary, and by our court and
jail we keep him so. An acceptance of the senti-
ment of love throughout Christendom for a sea-
son would bring the felon and the outcast to our
side in tears, with the devotion of his faculties to
our service."

THE DUTIES AND DANGERS OF SELF-DEVELOPMENT

HE great dramatist Ibsen once wrote
to a friend: "So to conduct one's

.life as to realize one's self — this
seems to me the highest attainment
possible to a human being. It is the task of
one and all of us, but most of us bungle it."
These words may be said to sum up his life's
creed, and their spirit is reflected in the phi-
losophy of a growing number of modern
thinkers. Duty and self-sacrifice used to be
recognized as the foundation-stones of ethics;
tgit nowadays the stress falls on self-develop-
ment. Maeterlinck, for instance, points out
that the injunction to love our neighbors as
ourselves is of no practical value if we love
ourselves in meager wise and faint-heartedly;
and Bernard Shaw takes the position that each
step in self-development means a duty repu-
diated. As an editorial writer in Harper's
Weekly puts it, "we are now in an age of
reactions." The same writer continues:

"There is a new doctrine in the air, contro-
verting the old simple way of feeling that life
offered us but little choice; that there was al-
ways something to hand to be done, and that the
higher law demanded that we set our hand to the
most immediate task.

" 'I wonder,' said an Oxford professor one day,
'if American women are happier, in the end, than
Englishwomen.' And when he was questioned as
to why he should expect it, he said that wher-
ever he went he met American women intent
upon self- fulfilment, self-development; they were
studying philosophy in Germany, cathedrals in
France, painting in Italy; they were journeying
over the world, seeking enlargement of the self;
whereas the Englishwoman accepted her given
place in life, did the task that came to hand, and
talked mainly of duty. He was uncertain whether,
in the end, the sum of the new experiment was
greater happiness. That, however, is hardly the
question to ask. The real question is whether the
sum is fuller consciousness or not. The stuff of
our sorrows, of our studies, of our experience,
must be translated into consciousness before it
becomes power. Which material translated be-
comes the best consciousness is again the matter
to decide. Bernard Shaw is particularly severe

upon self-sacrificers. He says Marie Bashkirtseif
was a source of delight to every one around her
'by the mere exhilaration and hope-giving atmos-
phere of her wilfulness.' The self-sacrificer, he
says, 'is always a drag, a responsibility, a re-
proach, an everlasting and unnatural trouble with
whom no really strong soul can live.' Mr. Shaw
is always giving cold plunges by way of tonic,
and what he says, witty and crystalline and strik-
ing as it is, needs a good deal of shaking down
and looking over before we finally swallow it."

The type of duty-driven, self-sacrificing
person described by Mr. Shaw is by no means
rare. "There are plenty of them in the world,"
says the Harper's Weekly writer, "and they are
usually — not always — of the feminine gender."

"They fritter away their lives, doing little
things for other people, encouraging those about
them in small self-indulgences and lazy pettiness.
But is it self-sacrifice, or is it a kind of timidity
and shirking that makes them adopt these tac-
tics? The mother who waits upon her child, who,
as we Americans say, 'spoils' her child, does so
because it is infinitely easier to govern one's self
in little things, to exert one's self for small serv-
ices, and to accept small sacrifices than it is to
demand the highest ideal from those around us.
It requires more strength of purpose to demand
attentions, civilities, and service from our sub-
ordinates than to forego them. There is nothing
so easy to be, nothing that requires less moral
stamina and purpose, than a household drudge
or a person used by others, instead of a person
with objects, interests, pursuits, and definite in-
tentions. On the whole, when we look around
and see the helpless and useless people, they are
nearly all folk who, at some time or other, had
the excuse of self-sacrifice. They are the women
who did not go to college because mother would
have been lonely; or the wives who have no re-
sources or interests because they waited on their
children all day and entertained their husbands
every evening. In the end, it is true that it is
the self-helpers who can help others; those who
would not give of their oil, but industriously
burned their lights."

There is a danger, however, in self-develop-
ment, as the writer admits. It is the danger of
"forgetting that one is, after all, but a little
screw in a big machine, and that whatever pur-

RELIGION AND ETHICS

^S7

pose the big machine serves, at any rate it was
not created for our self-furtherance." More-
over:

"If one recklessly goes in for self-development,
it must always be with an end in view, and that
end must be helping others. There is nothing,
after all, the world needs quite so much as kind-
ness ; and if in the cause of self-development we
choose to forego the minor services and hap-
hazard kindnesses, it must really be with the
larger service and the greater help in view. In-
tellectual development may be taken in the same
spirit as sanctification : 'For their sakes I sancti-
fied myself.'

"A modern essayist, in a recent very interesting
book upon death, tells us that when he thought
himself dying and tried to go over his life, the
thing that distressed him most was remembering
that once when he was writing he turned away
his sister who came to him with some papers for

criticism. It reminds one of Trilby, who, when
she was dying, could not forget the little brother
whom she refused to take with her to the Bois,
and she kept seeing him again as he stood in the
doorway crying after her."

In concluding, the writer draws the moral
that "we must react with a certain degree of
caution. We must pursue self-development
with sense alert not to miss the essential
services, the vital kindnesses, that bestrew the
way." And "when we are too lazy to command
our children, or too weak to demand the best
of strength and of service in others, we ought
not to call our qualities 'self-sacrifices.' " In the
end we may all be able to adopt as our motto :

Help me to need no aid of men,
That I may help such men as need.

THE "ETHEREAL BODY" AS THE SIGN OF OUR

IMMORTALITY

[^HE theory that every human being
has an "ethereal," or, as the Theoso-
phists would say, an "astral" body,
in addition to the physical body,
and that this ethereal body ensures the pre-
servation and persistence of the soul after
death, is lucidly and eloquently propounded in
a little book* by F. H. Turner, lately issued in
Boston. The work, which has bee;; charac-
terized by a prominent reviewer as the
achievement of "a pioneer mind in a new
realm of thought," is in the form of a corre-
spondence between two friends. One is a man
of practical affairs living in New York ; the
other an aged naturalist who writes from a
village among the hills. The former has re-
cently been bereaved of his only son, and
mourns as one without hope. He wants to
believe in immortality, but cannot, and in his
distress candidly lays his doubts before his
elder friend. The greatest objection to im-
mortality in his mind is that based upon the
well-known scientific dictum: "Thought is a
function of the brain." How is it possible,
he asks, for intelligence and the moral sense
to survive the disintegration of the brain?

To comfort him with assurance of his son's
continuing life, the naturalist places at his
disposal the fruits of his lifelong thought and
research in connection with the baffling prob-
lem of immortality. He is not willing to ad-
mit that the problem is insoluble, and he looks
to science for an answer to the riddle. "To

•Beside the New-Made Gkave. A Correspondence. By
F. H. Turner. James H. West Company, Boston.

my mind," he says, "the attitude of one who
refuses to indulge a hope contrary to the
affirmations of science is a far more religious
attitude than that of one who neither knows
nor cares how science bears on his faith.
For Nature — and Nature includes man — is
the expression of God, the One Eternal
Energy. To pursue science, therefore, is to
seek after God; to question Nature is to in-
quire his will; to abide by her revelations is
to be obedient to his will." He continues:

"Science is the strongest bulwark of the funda-
mental postulate of religion, viz. : There is One
Eternal Energy, by whom and through whom and
to whom are all things. This proposition, the
greatest truth ever conceived by the mind of man,
she has, so far as may be, empirically demon-
strated. In the middle third of the last century,
the inexplicable Time Spirit roused in the minds
of several scientific men in England and Germany
suggestions which led up, by way of experiment
and inference, to the law that the universe is the
expression of One Energy, the same yesterday,
to-day, and forever, eternally changeless, though
infinitely diverse in form. This discovery, the
immortal triumph of science, is simply the veri-
fication of religion's first postulate, and is the
basis of science as it is the basis of religion.
There is one energy, of which all the frame of
things is but an expression, declares science. The
One Energy of the Universe is God, the Lord Al-
mighty, declares religion. Thus the grandest dis-
covery of science is seen to be one with the grand-
est announcement of religion ; and more and
more, as science grows and creeds broaden, will
men come to learn that in Nature lurks not the
destruction but the confirmation of religious
faith."

The methods by which the Primal Energjy
works in and through matter, we can only

65S

CURRENT LITERATURE

know imperfectly. Even science cannot un-
ravel the mystery of protoplasm and the gene-
sis of things. Some thinkers regard energy
and matter as co-existent from all eternity;
others see in energy the sole primal existence.
But this at least we know: Somehow a
wondrous change is effected. Somehow the
One Energy translates itself into the one
substance, and "by its ceaseless shiver the
cosmic substance proclaims the presence of
the Primal Life." Ignorant of this basal cos-
mic process, we fail to connect the psychic
forms of energy with that great circuit of
physical energies lately revealed to us by the
discoverers of the law of conservation of
energy. But "in the Eternal Mind," says our
naturalist-sage of Hillton, "the connection is
made. Our finiteness knows only how the
heat of the forge is one with the flash of the
lightning, the glory of the sunlight, the thun-
der of the cataract; but the Eternal knoweth
how it is one with the white grace of the lily
and the sturdy strength of the oak, one with
the joy of leaping and singing things, one
with the thought, the love, the rectitude, the
aspiration of man." He goes on to say:

"The rhythmic vibrations of the cosmic sub-
stance, of which the vibrations of our atoms may
be regarded as typical, are revealed everywhere
throughout the cosmos, so far as we know the
cosmos. Everywhere, even in the solar systems,
we see or conceive this universal rhythm of
change. All about us are solar systems coming
into being, as ours came millions of years ago;
systems yielding up to cosmic transformation
their stores of energy, as ours is yielding hers;
systems already become, as will ours, inert and
cold; and systems crashing, as in the fulness of
time will ours, into tremendous ruin, generator
of that fierce passion of transforming energies
out of which shall spring a new birth wherein
the great rhythm shall begin anew."

This leads on to a masterly exposition of
the real significance of the unfolding theory
of evolution:

"The first glimpse of the law of evolution — the
complement of the law of the conservation of
energy — was discerned by Immanuel Kant about
the middle of the eighteenth century. He per-
ceived that the solar systems of our universe had
been evolved from primal matter by the slow ag-
gregation of atoms, first into nebulae, then into
spheres; and his theory, mathematically estab-
lished by the great French astronomer Laplace,
is still the most widely accepted method of ac-
counting for the inception and building up of our
universe. About fifty years later, the second in-
timation of the law was revealed to the mind of
the French naturalist, Jean Lamarck. He dis-
cerned the working of the evolutionary process
in the multiplicity of organic species, but failed
to discover the steps in the process. In the thir-
ties of the century just closed, the English geolo-
gist, Sir Charles Lyell, carried on Laplace's story

of the evolution of suns and planets by showing
how one of those planets had built itself up from
an incandescent, rotating mass into a fit abode
for living things. But it was not until after the
discovery of the law of the conservation of en-
ergy that the great law of evolution, in its com-
pleteness, dawned upon the elect mind. In a mon-
umental series of treatises, the publication of
which was begun about the middle of the last
century, Herbert Spencer welded into a great
philosophic system those fragments of the cosmic
process which his predecessors had discerned, and
revealed to man the basic truth that all Nature
is a continual becoming ; that the cosmos, through
all its realms, is a constant cyclic evolution of
higher forms from lower. In its influence upon
scientific thought, this discovery has been second
only to the discovery of the conservation of en-
ergy. A little later, in 1859, Charles Darwin filled
the gap in Lamarck's discovery by showing how
the law had worked in the development of or-
ganic species, and thus transferred the whole sub-
ject to a new plane. Men now found the evolu-
tion theory to be invested with a personal inter-
est, and thus what had been a matter appealmg
chiefly to the learned became the absorbing ques-
tion of the day."

Darwin's wonderful achievement, which
may be said to have done for biology what the
discovery of the law of the conservation of
energy had done for physics, instantly flashed
into the minds of men the perception of one- ^
ness in Nature, from atoms of matter to
majesty of man. More than that; it opened
up unimagined vistas of endless development.
The idea of a finite universe lost its meaning
for man. One after another his ultimates had
receded, until he stood face to face with the
gleaming depths of illimitable mystery. From
atoms and material things and biological
forms his gaze was led on to a tenuous sub-
stance that seemed to lie behind matter, an
embosoming influence in which our suns and
systems are borne as in a sea. It is this that
we call ether, and the Hillton naturalist
writes of its function:

"It pervades all the spaces of our universe,
inter-stellar, inter-molecular, inter-atomic, form-
ing within every material body a finer body, in-
visible but no less real than the one our eyes be-
hold. In this ethereal space-filler lies hidden, we
believe, the solution of many of the problems
which now baffle our comprehension. Its exist-
ence in Nature was discovered because a good
guesser looked there for it in order to account
for the phenomena of light, and for years it was
regarded merely as a convenient means for light
transmission. Now, science sees in it a means of
transmission for all the physical forms of energy
and a realm of endless possibilities. . . _ . Every
discovery we make in Nature is only an indication
of more of the kind farther on. The existence
within our world of a world more tenuous than
ours implies the existence within that of another
more tenuous still, and, within that, another and
another, on and on in endless evolution, the atom

RELIGION AND ETHICS

659

of one tenuity being ever the gateway to the next,
a multiplex compound of liner atoms. Thus,
what we call the ether is, in reality, an infinite
reach of successive tenuities of substance. In
each tenuity all spaces are occupied by the sub-
stance of the worlds beyond, there being there-
fore no such thing as action at a distance, since
there is no unoccupied space, the succession of
tenuities being infinite, or, rather, being one of
the phases of that mysterious union between the
One Energy and the one substance, which is be-
yond finite comprehension."

But what has all this to do with the im-
mortality of the human soul? The application
is direct and vivid, if the veteran naturalist's
chain of argument is sound. For even as
man's body and spirit may be taken as the
symbols of the material universe and its eter-
nal Soul, so also his physical garment, like
the garment of nature, is framed, so to speak,
on an ethereal substance. To follow the
argument :

"What, in common speech is known as the next
world, or the unseen world, must be that world
of our series which, under the broad name, the
ether, has become, to a certain extent, known to
our science. . . . What are Nature's phe-
nornena in one world are presumably somewhat
similar to her phenomena in the next, as golden-
rod at one point in a country road is presumptive
evidence of golden-rod a half mile further on.
Therefore I think we have a right to conjecture
that the world next our own, tho far from a mere
ethereal reproduction of our own, does yet, in
some fashion, follow its general lines. ... It
is not impossible that to some peculiar union be-
tween living bodies of our matter and potentially
living bodies of finer matter indwelling within
them, may be due those distinctive features of the
protoplasmic compound which baffle our chemists
and give to protoplasm its unique place in Nature
as the only substance, known to terrestrial ex-
perience, fit to be the vehicle of life. Be that as
it may, it is conceivable that the evolution of the
living individual should mark the advent of anew
possibility in Nature, — the possibility of a imion
between the material body and its ethereal tenant,
such that the two constitute not one body merely,
but one living body, actually alive in its material
part, potentially alive in its ethereal part. . . .
The ethereal body, of course, is not affected by
any of the agencies that operate to injure or de-
stroy masses of our matter. Neither sword-blade
nor bullet can divide it, the weight of all the seas
cannot crush it, closest sealing cannot confine it.
The ethereal body knows not the hurts of the
material.

"I do not see, therefore, why any organic in-
dividual should ever die. I do not think one ever
does. Simply, when the death transformation
overtakes it, and the material body drops away,
the next more tenuous body, flowing free, takes
on new beauty as the new adjustment arises be-
tween it and the psychic energies released from
their previous association."

And thus we reach, at last, the reconcilia-
tion between the scientific dictum, "Thought is

a function of the brain," and the religious
tenet, "The soul of man is immortal." In
summarizing his argument, the writer says:

"The living individual is alive clear through,
not only actually through his material body, but
potentially through the series of ethereal bodies
included within the material body and associated
in some mysterious way with it. Death is the
ceasing of the material body to respond to the
material environment; and when the response of
the material body to the material environment
ceases, the response of the next ethereal body to
the next ethereal environment begins. In the
human type, the evolutionary process has pro-
duced a brain-substance so delicate as to be
capable of effecting a union with the more ten-
uous substance it includes, such that the finer
brain receives and retains the records made in
the cells of the grosser by that continuous se-
quence of transformations of energy concomitant
with the continuous sequence of states of con-
sciousness which we call the soul. Hence, in the
death transformation, when the potential life of
this finer brain becomes actual through the falling
away of the material body, there is no break in
consciousness; for death, in its main feature, is
simply the readjustment of the soul to the phys-
ical activities of the newly living brain, and in the
substance of this newly living brain is imprinted
that record of the individual's terrestrial life-ex-
perience which secures to him the continuance of
his conscious individuality. Hence the uninter-
rupted wave of psycho-physical activity — or soul
— flows continuously on in the more tenuous
world as it flows on from day to day in this ; and
thus the immortal being moves consciously on-
ward through successive tenuities of matter
toward infinite freedom in the One Energy which
transcends matter. . . .

"Noble and beautiful personality was never
attained in twenty years or twenty centuries ;
and to suppose it to have been attained only
to be destroyed is to insult the Cosmic Mind.
The thinking man — that exquisite adjustment
of physical and psychic energies — is Nature's
highest achievement. Having effected it, she is
too good an economist to leave it, tremblingly
unstable as from the delicacy of its poise it must
be, to the mercy of every chance disturbance. A
very slight impulse suffices to disturb that delicate
poise and bring about the swift and sudden trans-
formation of energy which we call death ; we
may be sure, therefore, that, in the death trans-
formation. Nature has provided, not an agent for
the destruction of her precious product, but a
most effective means for its higher evolution.

"To our human comprehension the death trans-
formation is a mystery. When its gray shadow
falls upon the face of our beloved, we know in
our desolation only that the heart has ceased to
beat, the brain to thrill. That is to say, we behold
the material phenomena which accompany the
transformation, the flowing away of the released
physical energies into other modes of motion.
But the change itself we behold not ; the glorious
revolution by which, at the touch of the inducing
cause, the psychic energies flash into readjust-
ment to the finer forms of physical energy in the
next tenuity of matter, and the transformed being
stands forth, radiant in the new robes of his
greatened individuality."

Music and the Drama

THE ROAD TO YESTERDAY— A FANTASY OF
REINCARNATION

N "The Road to Yesterday" Beulah
Dix and Evelyn Sutherland have
^ embodied in a play the theosophical
theory of "kaVma" and reincarna-
tion. "Karma," according to the definition of
a Hindu sage, "is the aggregate effect of our
acts in one life upon our status in the next."
In the play, esoteric philosophy is delightfully
mingled with the prosaic reality of Cheshire
cheese. It is the story of Elspeth Tyrell, a
romantic young lady, vv^ho after dining on a
provender of Cheshire cheese travels in a
nightmare down the road to the past. A
similar fantastic idea has been used by H. G.
Wells in "The Time Machine," an invention
enabling the fortunate owner to travel for-
ward and backward in time. Mark Twain's
Yankee Knight at King Arthur's Court like-
wise traveled the road to yesterday before the
enthusiastic heroine of the play. While the
Misses Dix and Sutherland have employed
the stage machinery of the historical novel,
there is in each scene a touch of real distinc-
tion which has made it the theme of much
discussion and given it a popular success rare
for a play of this sort. The idea of the per-
sistence of the ego before and after our present
life is one of the most deep-rooted in the
human mind. Few subjects appeal more to
the imagination and it is with intense interest
that we follow the people in the play in their
course from Midsummer's Eve, 1903, back to
the same day in the year of our Lord 1603.

The first act takes place in the Leveson
Studio. We are introduced to a number of
characters, all of whom appear in the next act
in the guise of a previous incarnation. There
is the heroine, Elspeth Tyrell (who in her
former incarnation is seen as "Lady Elizabeth
Tyrell"), who thrives on historical novels and
Cheshire cheese; Malena, her sister (the
"Black Malena" of acts two and three) ; Will-
iam Leveson, painter, Malena's husband;
Eleanor Leveson, his sister (Eleanor Tylney
of 1603) ; Kenelm Paulton, Eleanor's suitor,
against whom she feels a strange unaccounta-
ble distrust (the Kenelm Pawlet, Lord
Strangevon of former days) ; Norah Gillaw,

the old Irish servant (three hundred years
before a witch, "Mother Gillaw"); Harriet
Phelps, Elspeth's aunt (long ago "Goody
Phelps," of the "Red Swan") ; and finally
John Greatorex (formerly Jack Hodgson),
the hero.

Kenelm and Eleanor are alone on the stage.
He wears his arm in a sling, and tells Eleanor
whom he has loved for years without being
able to win her, that on the morrow he is to
undergo a dangerous operation in Vienna. He
pleads with her for her love, not for her pity.
But something in her recoils from him and
stifles that in her heart for which he hungers
most, and the following conversation takes
place between them:

Kenelm: Eleanor, why can't you trust me?

Eleanor: Trust you? Do I not — do I not
trust you?

Kenelm : Look me in the eyes and say you
trust me. Can you ? You see !

Eleanor: Why do I not trust you, then? O
Ken! Why? Wliy?

Kenelm : I have asked myself that, dear
heart, for ten hard years.

Eleanor : You have known. . .

Kenelm : I have known.

Eleanor: I have not said it to any living
soul. I have hardly said it to myself. It eases
my heart to say it all, at least. Oh, it eases my
heart !

Kenelm : Say on, dear !

Eleanor: I have known it — I have hated my-
self for it — for the cruel senseless injustice of it,
since we were big boy and little girl together.
You were so good to me always. Ken, so just, so
patient

Kenelm : Cut that part out.

Eleanor: I will net, for it is true. And I
knew it, and was so grateful, and so often — so
often — I almost loved you — I almost loved you —
and then

Kenelm : And then — for God's sake ! And
then?

Eleanor: And then, in a moment, a shadow
that seemed to look out of your eyes, and a cold
something — like a hand that held me back — and —
and — I feared you so, Ken ! I feared you so !

Kenelm : God ! That's a hard hearing !
That's a hard hearing!

Eleanor: So it has always been — has always
been! It's unjust — it's hideous — with no reason.
How well I know there is no reason.

Kenelm : No reason that we know.

Eleanor : Why — what

Kenelm : Either there is no reason for any-

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

661

thing, or there is nothing without a reason.
Some day, maybe, I shall know why you — whj'
you

Eleanor: Why I cannot quite trust you al-
ways. Even tho I

Kenelm : Even tho you — Eleanor ! ( Voices
are heard outside.)

Eleanor : They are coming. Ken ! Ken !

Kenelm : But you meant it all — all you said
— all you did not say? There is something in
your heart that pleads for me, as well as fights
against me ! Eleanor !

At this moment Elspeth enters with Malena,
nicknamed "Gypsy." Elspeth is nearly ex-
hausted from "seeing London," and her ro-
mantic mind is full of the medieval sights
she has seen in the Tower and else-
where. This is intensified by the sudden
appearance of John Greatorex (whom she has
never before met) in a medieval costume, in
which he has been posing for Leveson, the
painter, and also by the conversation of Norah,
who speaks of the legend that whatever you
wish on Midsummer's Eve will come true and
remain true until it is unwished on another
Midsummer's Eve. Longing for a glimpse of
the medieval days, Elspeth is put to sleep in
the adjoining room, and is heard muttering
uneasily in her sleep during the following
conversation :

Malena : Poor little lass ! She's fairly done
out!

Kenelm : She's almost asleep already. Oh,
sleep is good when one is tired — sleep is good.

Malena {goes up to Kenelm) : Will has
told me. Ken. I'm sorry! O dear, big fellow,
I'm sorry !

Kenelm : Thank you, Gypsy !

Malena: Do you remember Stephen Black-
pool, Ken, and his saying: "It's a' a muddle!"
Sometimes it all seems such a muddle, Ken !

Kenelm : Unless — Gypsy, how much in car-
nest are you when you talk that reincarnation
stuff — about our living here, in this world, again
and again, in many personalities, the same soul
working out many chapters of one long life-
story?

Malena : Hard to say. Ken ! Sometimes it's
just all fancy to me — and then, by times, when I
see a long road going over a hill

Kenelm : I know — just as I sometimes feel a
black something face me, and it says : "Look !
I once was you ! What I earned, you pay !"

Malena: Ken! How pay? For how long?

Kenelm: How long? Through lives and
lives, through hills and hills — till the will that
made has unmade.

Malena : But at last .

Kenelm : Surely at last As the reckoning

struck, so the hour of release will strike. But
good God ! How long the reckoning is some-
times— and how blind the soul that pays it !

Malena : Hush !

Kenelm : What is it ?

Malena: Elspeth, she is dreaming.

Kenneth : Dear, we are all dreaming. We
are "such stuff as dreams are made of."

Malena: "And our little life is rounded with
a sleep."

{Kenelm and Malena go out. The stage he-
comes absolutely black. Gradually the scene is
again illuminated, and Elspeth is seen standing
as if bewildered, her hair about her face, clad in
the tattered clothes of a country girl of 1603.)

Elspeth : Where am I ? What is it ? Malena,
where am I? Where am I to go? What shall I
do? Who am I?

{John Greatorex, now Jack Hodgson, enters
swinging a cudgel in his hand.)

Elspeth : OJi ! Oh ! O my soul ! Oh, my wish !
If it comes true! If I've found the road to
yesterday !

And she is not mistaken. Only the road to
yesterday is not altogether pleasant traveling.
She finds herself engaged as a scullery maid at
the Red Swan Tavern under the tyrannous
sway of Goody Phelps, a shrewish, bustling
landlady, recognizably the same type as Aunt
Harriet, but coarser. The English spoken is
far less elegant than the idiom with which
her vast library of historical novels had
familiarized her. The speech of the men is
interpolated with swear words that are not to
be found in the dictionary of polite society.
Jack, the presumptive hero, eats with a knife.
All the while Elspeth never loses the con-
sciousness of being in a dream. Jack has pro-
tected her from the blows of the landlady,
Goody Phelps (Harriet), and then fallen
asleep. She finds it impossible to reconcile his
behavior with that of a hero. "How could it
be possible that this Jack is a hero? He gets
sleepy and hungry. That's not a bit like it.
But he is big and handsome. I think he could
kill five men at once like that Lord Noel in
'For the Love of a Lady Brave.' " Norah, the
witch, shortly followed by Malena, now a
gypsy, appears. They do not understand her
familiar words of salutation, but are grateful
for the trust she places in them. Then Eleanor
enters. She is the wife of the great Lord
Strangevon, the Kenelm of Act I. The latter,
however, refuses to recognize the marriage, as
he is anxious to marry his ward, in order to
repair his fortune. In a hurried conversation
with Eleanor, it becomes clear to Elspeth that
she herself is the ward in question, and has
run away to escape compulsion on her guar-
dian's part. Here some of Lord Strangevon's
men enter. A fray ensues, resulting in Jack's
defeat. He shouts for help. "I believe you
are a coward!" Elspeth cries, disillusioned.
"Little maid," he replies, 'Call thy wits and
bridle thy thongue ! This is Lincolnshire in the
year 1603 and I am a plain Englishman. I will
fight for thee while breath is in me, but when
four men beset me, I will call for help if help

662

CURRENT LITERATURE

be within hail." She has meanwhile disguised
herself as a boy in the manner of persecuted
heroines and Jack asks her to follow him.
He promises to wait for her half an hour and
then to take her to some good priest to join
their fates in wedlock. She refuses. He goes
out, and the following scene takes place:

Elspeth {tucking her hair into her cap} : In-
deed, I'll not go with him. I'll hunt up a
hero— a hero like Lord Noel. Now, if I could

meet with a gentleman (Clatter of hoofs heard

outside.) Oh, something's clattering! It must
be the hero at last. It must be the hero !

Kenelm : Look to the horse, ye knaves !

(Keneltn enters as Lord Strangevon, a man of
thirty, with a cold hard face. He is clad in tine
riding suit, wears a sword, and carries a heavy
riding whip.)

Elspeth: It's Captain Paulton ! And his
eyes — Oh, now I know why I was afraid of his
eyes I

Kenelm {scarcely glancing at Elspeth, seeing
only a figure in boy's dress) : Fetch me to drink,
thou idle varlet! {Cuts Elspeth across the legs
with his whip.) And be brisk!

Elspeth : C)h ! How dare you ! {Almost cry-
ing.) How dare you!

Kenelm {briskly): Thou sniveling knave!
{Strikes her again.)

Elspeth: You cruel brute! {Goes out, sob-
t}ing under her breath.)

Kenelm : If 'tis a true tale my knaves brought
me of the girl, she cannot be far. {He sits
dozvn at table. Adrian, the tapster, re-enters with
wine.) How now ! A metamorphosis ! Where's
the lad I sent for wine?

Adrian : If it like you, sir, 'tis but a young
lad and new to the service, my lord, and he — he
' is afraid!

: Send him hither.

My Lord ! You will not

: Send him hither.

{filling glass) : Will you not drink.

Kenelm

Adrian :

Kenelm

Adrian

my lord?

Kenelm : I will drink when the boy pours for

me, as I bade. Wilt send him, or (Lifts whip.)

Adrian: I will, my lord, I will! {Adrian
runs out and the next moment Elspeth comes
flying tlirough the door, evidently shoved by
Adrian.)

Elspeth (attempting to move towards the
door) : Oh, what shall I do !

Kenelm : Stand where you are. Come hither !
Come hither, I say ! Now, sirrah, why didst thou
not bring the wine as I bade?'
Elspeth : I — I —

Kenelm : Now by the light of heaven. (He
steps up to Elspeth and strikes off her cap. Her
hair falls about her face. He bows with ironi-
cal deference.) I have to ask your ladyship's
pardon that I forgot her sex and her station.
I can only plead in my defense that she did
forget them first. (Takes her by the wrist.)

Elspeth : Let me go ! Oh, let me go ! I am
afraid — afraid.

Kenelm : Is this your greeting to your guard-
ian and betrothed husband?

Elspeth: You? My husband? No, no! Oh,
no!
Kenelm : We'll end this mumming. Hola, my

lads! (Enter attendants.) Put saddle to the
horses. The search is ended. Come, your lady-
ship. (He attempts to force Elspeth to the
door.)

Elspeth: Jack! Oh, Jack. Help me! Help
me! (Jack enters.)

Kenelm : Seize me that fellow ! {An in-
stant's pause. Jack, at bay by the fireplace, cud-
gel in hand, surveys the half dozen or more men
that confront him.)

Elspeth: If you were a man you would save
me!

Jack: If I were six men I might.

Kenelm : At him ! {Jack strikes down one
man, leaps to bench by window.)

Elspeth : You coward ! You coward ! (Jack
slips out through window.) Oh, where is the
hero? (Sobbing.) Where's the hero? Oh,
where is the hero?

Act three is laid in her ladyship's chamber,
Strangevon Castle. Elspeth, a prisoner, is be-
ginning to fear that the dream after all may
be bitter reality. She is feverish and Norah,
"Mother Gillaw," is preparing a draft for her.
At that moment noises outside are heard. Goody
Phelps has accused the nurse of having be-
witched her cow and the crowd outside clam-
ors for the witch's life. Kenelm commands
that she be submitted to the usual test and cast
in a pond. "If she floats she is a witch; drag
her forth and hang her. If she is not a witch
she will sink." While the hag is being carried
off, Malena, the gypsy, interferes and frees
her. Brought before Kenelm Malena prom-
ises to tell him his fortune as the price of
freedom.

Kenelm: Thou comest from the road?

Malena : From a far road.

Kenelm: Thou hast the black art of thy
people.

Malena: I have eyes that see.

Kenelm : Let them see. Those that do not
fear may see far. I'm at a cross-road. Look
down my road.

Malena: Let me look upon thy band.
(Readies across the table and takes his hand.)

Kenelm : Read truly, jade !

Malena: Subtle — and a holdfast— and thy
will is God to thee. Without fear and without
pity. Thou shalt desire, and thou shalt rue thy
desire. Thou shall take what thou wouldst, but,
my lord, the price of that taking will be asked
of thee by those thou'lt not refuse — and 'twill be
a dear price, my Lord Strangevon !

Kenelm : What meanest thou ? Speak plain !

Malena: Pay time is oft times long a-coming,
Lord Strangevon, but there comes to every man
the day when he pays his shot. Ay, through
nine lives may a man's reckoning hunt him down.

Kenelm : Speak plain, I say, shall I not win
the gold I'm gaming for?

Malena: Ay, much gold. Thou shalt have
much to leave when thou takest the long road.

Kenelm : That's well. And shall I wed where
I will?

Malena: Ay, thou shalt wed the gold for
which thou sellest a heart.

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

663

Kenelm : Riches and my will — and to my
life's end? Say it, girl! To my life's end?

Malena: To this life's end?

Kenelm : To my life's end ! Then who doth
prate of payment?

Malena (rising) : Those that we pay — and
when they speak, we pay. What is thy pleasure
with me further, lord?

ICenelm : With thee? Why, hanging were
poor guerdon for the sure fortune thou hast
pledged me, wench. Thou hast thy pardon for
thy pay. Get thee forth by yonder door.

Malena : I thank your lordship. 'Tis fair
pay — a pardon. May your lordship win as much
when your pay-hour strikes !

She goes out, dropping a letter from Jack
for Elspeth, which Kenelm secretly intercepts.
He informs the girl that within an hour she
must marry him, and advises her to spend the
last hour of her maidenhood wisely, and goes
out. Then a secret panel swings open and Jack
enters.

Elspeth (draws back) : Why did you run
away and leave me yesterday?

Jack : Ay, so that I might be alive to succor
thee this night.

Elspeth: Oh, why did you, Jack?

Jack (going to her) : Malena is keeping
watch. When all is clear, she will come forth
into the courtyard with a lanthorn — and then we
will pass out by yonder passage.

Elspeth: And where, then. Jack? Not to
more new, dreadful people ! Oh, no ! No ! Jack !
You said yesterday

Jack : Yestermorn thou wert a little serving-
wench; to-night thou art a great lady.

Elspeth : But I am only a little, lonely, fool-
ish girl — lost in a dream — and you — the only one
that I never knew before — have been so good —
so good

Jack (kneeling by her) : Little Bess, wilt
thou go with me unto the priest?

Elspeth : Yes — Jack !

Jack : Tho I am no gentleman by thy meas-
ure, but only a yeoman's son?

Elspeth : By my measure, you are a gentle-
man— the only gentleman in this awful world.
Hark !

Jack : Nay, 'twas naught. (Rises and goes
to window.)

Elspeth: Oh, were we not better go at once?

Jack (glancing out through the curtain) :
Nay, no sign yet of Malena and the lanthorn.

Elspeth: If they should find us!

Jack: Have no fear, dear heart! Bess — this
one word more ! Thou goest with me, because
thou dost love me?

Elspeth : Because I love you. Jack !

Jack: And thou — if for this flight thou art
outcast from thy estate, thou wilt tramp the
highway with me?

Elspeth : I shall be safe with you and glad
with you, anywhere in all this world. Oh !

Jack: What is it, dear one?

Elspeth : A noise — 'twas like the turning of
a key in the lock!

Jack : Peace ! Patience ! — I see no lanthorn
yet!

Elspeth : O Jack, Jack, let us pass down the

passage. There cannot be such danger there. I
do beg of you, come ! Come !

Jack: Hush! Hush! Sweetheart!

Elspeth : Oh, please, please. Jack ! Oh, I am
so afraid. Afraid ! I know now I have been
mad, just as they said, and it is real now, now,
at last real that I love you, that we're in awful
danger !

Jack : Come, come, I'll open the door, if 'twill
content thee. (He fumbles tvith door.)

Elspeth : O, Jack ! What's wrong with the
door? The door — it sticks fast!

Jack (trying to move it ivith his shoulder) :
Ay, — it sticks fast. (Leans panting against
wall.)

Elspeth : It is not — oh, it is not locked from
the inside? They have not

Jack: No, no! Be not afraid! (Once more
tries to open door.)

Elspeth : There is no need to deceive me. T
can be brave. Tell me the truth ! They have
bolted the door. They have bolted the door.
They know that you are here.

Jack (turning away from door in despair) :
Ay, little sweetheart! Fairly caught. Nay,
child, thou shah not be shamed. Do thou shriek
aloud for help, I say, and that quickly.

Elspeth: No! No! I will not! (Clings to
him.) Turn a mean coward just to save my-
self? Let them know, if they will only kill us
together, if — (footsteps within). O Jack! That
window — you can be safe. Go ! Go !

Jack : I shall not leave thee now. (Door is
■Rung open. Kenelm and several men enter.
Thrusts Elspeth from him.) I cry you mercy,
my lord ! Mercy ! I am a poor fellow and sore
hungered, else I had never sought to rob you.

Elspeth : Oh, no ! no ! Do not believe him.

Kenelm: So thou art a strong thief? And
thou camest hither only to steal a bite of food
and mayhap a coin of me?

Jack : Only that, my lord.

Kenelm : Thou art like to die with a lie in
thy mouth; or, mayhap, it was yet another gal-
lant this letter bade your ladyship light to bower?
(Hands letter to Elspeth ivith a grave boiv.)

Elspeth : You play the spy. Lord Strange-
von?

Kenelm : Ay, when thou dost stoop to play
the wanton !

Elspeth : Oh !

Jack: Thou dog! (Springs at Kenelm with
dagger drawn. Kenelm catches the thrust upon
the cloak which he carries across his right arm
The other men fling themselves on Jack and bear
him to the ground.)

Elspeth : Oh, help ! Help ! My Lord ! They
shall not kill him. Jack, Jack!

Kenelm (to his vassal) : Hubert, lad, thy
belt!

Hubert: The rogue is quiet now. (They tie
Jack's arms and leave him lying on the Hoor.)

Kenelm : Thou mightest have given me a
more lordly rival !

Eleanor: My lord! Oh, what has happened
here?

Kenelm: Her ladyship hath made merry.
Yonder lies her playfellow. 'Twas no wise
spending of her hour of grace.

Elspeth : I love the man that lies there ! I
love him ! You will not marry me now !

Kenelm : Your ladship's land and revenues

664

CURRENT LITERATURE

are the same, whatever man you love. Come,
my lady!

Elspeth : I will not ! I will not ! You can-
not make me say the words!

Kenelm: Mayhap not, yet I think I have the
secret of it. Lift up that fellow. {The men
raise Jack, who is but just now recovering con-
sciousness.) You say your ladyship loves yon-
der rascal?

Elspeth : I love him.

Kenelm : By his own confession he is a thief ;
if you do not say the words that make you wife,
your thief shall hang!

Elspeth: What shall I do? What shall I do?

Kenelm: Your answer. Lady Elizabeth? You
will say the words?

Jack : Thou shalt not marry him to save my
life. Say no, Bess, say no !

Elspeth : If I marry you, if I rnarry you, you
will not give them orders to kill him?

Kenelm : I will not give them orders to kill
him.

Jack: Bess, thou shalt not!

Kenelm : Upon all that I hold sacred, I swear
these things.

Elspeth (rising with effort) : I will marry
you. Lord Strangevon! God be with you. Jack,
my dear ! My dear !

Kenelm : I have my will — that's well. Your
word holds, black wench yonder ! I have my
will! My lady, go to thy tiring room and bind
thy hair. I will not fail to wait thee ! Go !
(Elspeth goes out sobbing heavily.) _ Say to Sir
John, the vicar, who waits below, 'tis here we'll
have his office. Bid him here ! By thy own con-
fession, fellow, thou didst break into my house.
(Writes.)

Jack: Ay, my lord.

Kenelm : And thou didst seek but now to
slay me.

Jack: Ay, and 'tis my sorrow that I failed
therein.

Kenelm : Yet I will give no order for thy
death, since so I stand pledged to my betrothed.
Hubert !

Hubert: My lord!

Kenelm: My warrant as justice. He is to be
whipped with one hundred lashes to-morrow at
Brockden-undcr-Brent; and one hundred upon
the second day at Lincoln.

Hubert: My lord, 'tis certain death — and
death by torture !

Eleanor (in a strangled, altered voice) : Lord
Strangevon ! Thou shalt repent this thing !

Kenelm: Who spoke? (To Malena, who has
come back.) Thou — thou witch-girl?

Eleanor : Nay, I spoke — I ! Thou shalt re-
pent ! Thou shalt long, long repent !

Kenelm (rising): Take him hence! Then
bring him hither again after

Hubert : My lord ! Hither ! After such tor-
ture?

Kenelm : I said bring him hither !

Eleanor: 'Tis thou that hast turned rebel,
Lord Strangevon.

Kenelm : And what rules me that can cry
rebel?

Eleanor: Fool, what if this night thy soul be
required of thee?

Kenelm : Peace ; thou darest not judge me —
thou dost love me! (Enter Sir John.)

Sir John: You summoned me, my lord?

Kenelm : Come forth, my Lady Elizabeth !
Your husband awaits ! (Elspeth re-enters, quiet
and pale.) Come (to priest). Be as brief as
joining may be, and win a blessing. Stay! We
wait yet for one guest !

Sir John: A guest, my lord?

Kenelm : Nay, he comes, but slowly and with
attendance !

(Jack is brought in coatless, his shirt stained
with blood. He is scarcely able to stand.)

Elspeth : Jack ! Jack ! What have they done ?
What have they done?

Kenelm (half carries her toward priest) :
And your ladyship keep not her pledge, what
shall hold me to mine? And our guest lives, you
will note — lives, and is aware. (The men lower
Jack to the Hoor.) You may go! Go! I say.
(The men with frightened, bezuildered faces go
slowly out.) Now, Sir John! Briefly! Briefly!

Eleanor: Kenelm! How long shall be thy
cleansing! How long! (Goes slozvly out, sob-
bing. Kenelm half holds the fainting Elspeth as
Sir John performs the ceremony. Their backs
are tozvards Jack as he lies. He feebly beckons
Malena, zvho comes swiftly and silently down to
him.)

Jack: Thy knife!

Malena: Strike deep! (Slips her knife into
his shirt-front.)

Kenelm: 'Tis said?

Sir John : Ay, my lord.

Kenelm: Here's to quit thee. (Tosses him
purse.) And now the hour turns late — (motions
to door).

Sir John : My lord ! That man, that dying
man

Kenelm : But not yet dead ! He was very
fain to come hither. Let him rest here this
night! Now, get you gone. (Sir John goes out.
Elspeth has fallen into a great chair, her head
resting against its back.)

Kenelm : Come, Countess of Strangevon, look
merrily ! Is not the man you love bearing you
company, here in your bower? (Jack with very
slozv and painful effort drags himself towards
Kenelm, whose back is to him.)

Elspeth : My lord, be merciful ! Be merciful !

Kenelm : Thy kiss ! Sure, 'tis true that on
Midsummer Eve our dearest wish is granted.

Elspeth : Midsummer Eve ! What said — O
Heaven, hear ! Heaven, hear !

Kenelm : Come, thy kiss is wished of me,
thy husband ! Give it me !

Elspeth : Heaven, hear !

Kenelm: Thy kiss! (Bends over her; Jack
rises to his feet with a last flicker of strength
and stabs down at Kenelm.)

Elspeth (seeing him as he stabs) : Oh !
(Hides her eyes. Jack stabs again and again,
clinging to Kenelm, who vainly tries to shake
him off.)

Kenelm: Help! Ho! Help! (Falls.)

Jack (drops knife and staggers) : Bess !

Elspeth : Oh ! You killed him, you have
killed him !

Jack : For thee, sweetheart ! Quick, while my
strength holds ! The panel, the panel !

Jack: The door yields! The dark may save
us ! Come ! Come !

Elspeth : It is unwished ! It is unwished !
Come!

(Beating is heard en the door. Confused cries.

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

665

Keneltn raises himself a very little, his face
ghastly in the moonlight.)

Kenelm : So there is a law. Fool ! This
night thy soul (Lies dead.)

The curtain falls and when it rises again —
three hundred years later — we are once again
in the Leveson studio. A midnight supper is
in preparation, and Jack, still in the costume
in which he had been posing in the first act, is
helping Malena in spreading the table. Els-
peth in the alcove gives a low moaning cry
and Jack and Malena exchange confidences
with regard to nightmares ; for, as Malena
says, "everybody has a pet nightmare."

Jack: Mine's always the same. I've had it
odd times since I ever dreamed it all . . . .
that is to remember it. I'm flat on the floor in
a big dark room. It's back in some queer old
time, you know, because I've got on . . . Jove !

Malena: What's the matter? Cut your fin-

Jack: Oh, no, but I just thought of it. In
that dream I've always worn a rig jolly well,
like this you've put me into . . . and that's
why I felt so devilish natural!

Malena : Go on ! This gets interesting !

Jack : There isn't anything much more. It's
dark awhile. . . . and then I'm trying to open
a door that won't open. . . . same old bag of
night. Mare-tricks, don't you know. . . . And
I'm weak as a kitten. And there's a girl holdin'
on to me and cryin' . . .

Malena : Yes, there's a girl in most men's
bad dreams.

Jack : In their good ones, too, eh ?

Malena : Sometimes ! But, go on ; finish
your nightmare !

Jack: That's the end. She's crying and hold-
ing on to me, and the door won't open — and
that's all!

Malena: Ever see the girl?

Jack : The room is so dark, I tell you — I only
know she's little and her hair fluffs, and she
holds on to a fellow in a jolly nice sort of way.

At this point Malena is called out, leaving
Jack alone in the room. Elspeth, who is still
dreaming, cries for help from the alcove in
which she is sleeping.

Jack: I say! It can't be right for that poor
child to have such a beastly nightmare as that'
Somebody ought to — (starts uncertainly towards
the alcove. The curtains of the alcove are here
thrown back, and Elspeth, zvith disordered hair
and dress, comes staggering out and clutches at
Jack, who supports her.)

Elspeth : Jack ! Jack ! Oh, I thought I'd lost
you in the dark ! I thought I'd lost you, dear.

Jack (utterly dumbfounded) : Well, you —
you see you didn't !

Elspeth : We got away, we're safe !

Jack: That much is straight, anyhow. We're
safe!

Elspeth : You're not dead !

Jack: Not at all! Please don't look so
wretched ! On my honor, I am not dead !

Elspeth : Oh, he frightened me so before
you killed him!

Jack : I'm jolly glad I killed him, if he fright-
ened you.

Elspeth: It doesn't hurt you to hold me?
I'm so weak still! It doesn't hurt you to hold
me. Jack?

Jack: It doesn't hurt me at all. I — I like it,
don't you know !

Elspeth : Oh, how good you are to me. Jack
— how good you are! (Lifts her face innocently
to him for a kiss. He looks hurriedly over his
shoulder, and then kisses her heartily.)

Jack : I say, perhaps — don't you know, hadn't
I better call Malena?

Elspeth : Malena ? Is she here ? Why, yes
— yes, of course, she's here ! How silly I am I
It's Midsummer Eve !

Jack: Yes, that's straight, too. It's Mid-
summer Eve, all right! We're getting on.

Elspeth : Just before you got the door open
— and we found the road back — the road from
yesterday — you remember how long it was the
door wouldn't open!

Jack: The door wouldn't what? I say! She's
pulling me back into her nightmare — and, hang
it, it's my nightmare !

Elspeth : Just before it came open, I remem-
bered I could unwish my wish, because it was
Midsummer Eve — and I unwished it — and— rand,

0 Jack, that was a black, awful moment — when

1 thought you had died — that I was alone on the
misty road. But I'm not alone. We're here to-
gether— we're here together!

Here Norah and Eleanor re-enter. "Why,
Norah," exclaims Elspeth still practically
under the dream spell, "you didn't get killed
for a witch."

Eleanor: She seems to have had a queer
dream of it!

• Nora: Dream! And saints forgive all fools —
'tis Midsummer Eve.

Eleanor: Almost Midsummer day now,
Norah !

Norah : The bad spells must be broke the
quicker. Miss Eleanor, or they'll bind another
year! (Goes out.)

Eleanor: Bad spells must be broken — must
be broken !

(Kenelm enters.)

Kenelm: Good! I thought I'd find you here!
I wanted to say good-night and good-bye.

Eleanor : Good-bye !

Kenelm : Vienna to-morrow, you know !

Eleanor: And afterwards?

Kenelm : That depends on — Vienna.

Eleanor: And on nothing else!

Kenelm : Nothing else is unsettled now.
Goodby! (Holds out hand.)

Eleanor: I am not sure — Ken, I'm not sure!

Kenelm : Eleanor ! Please remember I have
a tough day or two ahead, and don't — don't play
with me, dear!

Eleanor: I'm not playing. Ken. Norah says
evil spells should break before midnight of Mid-
sumnier Eve. It was an evil spell that sent you
out into your pain alone. You shall not go alone.

Kenelm : You shall not go with me for pity.

Eleanor: I shall not go with you for pity.

Kenelm : Eleanor, you do not trust me ?

Eleanor: Do I not. Ken, look into 'my eyes!

Kenelm (taking both her hands) : Eleanor,
you can, you do, Eleanor!

666

CURRENT LITERATURE

Eleanor: I could not love you until I could

trust you! To-night Oh, who can say why

— that until— something snapped — that has held
so long — so long — and

Kenelm : You could not love me until j'ou
trusted me ! And you trust me now — and you —
(Clock strikes twelve.)

Eleanor (falls sobbing on his breast) : Oh,
Ken, the old dark has cleared! The old dark
has cleared! (Will enters.)

Will: Supper's coming.

Kenelm : We're coming too. Brother Will !

Will : You blessed old humbugs ! Come here !
Come here and confess ! (Drags them off, call-
ing Malena. Elspeth re-enters.)

Elspeth : I'm all awake now, dear — and
(Jack comes in dressed in conventional gar-
ments.) Mr. Greatorex!

Jack : I say ! You called me Jack awhile ago.

Elspeth : Now, don't be cruel. Don't remitid
me

Jack : Don't you be cruel, and remind me that
the best ten minutes of my life were only the
edge of a dream !

Elspeth : I couldn't help it ! Oh, truly ! It
was so real — so strange ! I can't quite feel even
yet it was all just a dream !

Jack : Maybe it wasn't.

Elspeth : Why — what

Jack : See here, little girl, if I say a thing
that sounds all mixed up, you'll believe me.
won't you ? You'll know I'm speaking the truth !

Elspeth : Oh, yes, oh yes ! I believe you've
spoken the truth for three hundred years !

Jack : See here ! If it's a dream, we're both
dreaming, I give you my word of honor as an
honest man I've been there a hundred times in
this room that you've dragged me out of, when
you woke here just now !

Elspeth: What room? Oh. what room. Jack?

Jack : A dark old room with tapestries on
the walls and a candle on the table

Elspeth (breathlessly pointing) : Yes, there
— the table — there

Jack : And first I lay on the f^oor, all huddled
up. most aw'fly done out. somehow

Elspeth : Oh, yes, yes !

Jack : And there, after a darkness, I was
holding a little girl in my arms — so! (Suits
action to word.)

Elspeth : And I clung to you hard ! (Suits
action.)

Jack : And I pushed and pushed against a
door that wouldn't open, and there were noises
and shouts, and it wouldn't open

Elspeth : And then, oh then ! I — I wished we
were back in this old studio and

Jack: And here we are! (Clasps and kisses
her. She tears herself away.)

Elspeth : But — O Jack ! Mr. Greatorex ! We
musn't — we musn't — you musn't, we're not

Jack : Deuce take it, of course we are ! Do
you mean to say you are not going to marry me
after I went through all that to get you?

Elspeth : Why, why, I suppose

Jack : I don't suppose ! I know ! Didn't I
tell Malena an hour ago that you had fluffy
hair and an aw'fly jolly way of clinging to a
chap? Haven't you? Answer me that? Haven't
you ?

Elspeth : But, Mr. Greatorex, Jack, don't you
see, other people can't know !

Jack : Hang 'em, why should they ?

Elspeth: We mustn't until, until

Jack : Well, see here, if you will be so con-
foundedly conventional ! You and Malena can
run down into Lincolnshire to-morrow and visit
the mater for a week, and I'll come down Sun-
day, and by Tuesday night, don't you know, we
can tell 'em we're engaged, and then — (embraces
her).

Elspeth : Oh, Jack !

Jack : And then it's nobody's confounded
business when I — (kisses her. Harriet re-en-
ters).

Harriet : Elspeth Tyrell ! What do my eyes
see?

Jack: Oh, it's all right, Aunt Harriet! We
didn't mean it to come out until Tuesday, but
we're engaged !

Harriet: You're — catch me — somebody!

Elspeth: O dear Aunt Harriet! It isn't sud-
den, really not ! We've been engaged three hun-
dred years! (Hides her face on Jack's shoulder.)

THE FRENCH REVOLUTION SET TO MUSIC

NLY a few^ months ago the Paris
Opera produced Jules Massenet's
"Ariane," which was warmly re-
ceived, and has proved the success
of the season. Its theme is classical and its
music mainly lyrical (see Current Litera-
ture, February). Now the Monte Carlo
opera has presented, to the surprise of France
and Europe, another new work by the same
aged musician, a "music-drama" of an emo-
tional and intense character, based on a
French theme of the Revolutionary period.

Asked by a Figaro interviewer to explain
the origin of this M^ork, Massenet said that
"Ariane" was completed two years ago, and
that he needed a "good rest." Just then the

Prince of Monaco invited him to write an
opera for Monte Carlo's season of 1907, and
he gladly accepted the honor, finding the best
possible "rest" in writing, in his Paris library,
a music-drama of a passionate and absorbing
kind. His friend, Jules Claretie, the author
and playwright, wrote the libretto, and it was
a pleasure to compose the music for it, for
the poem is full of action, of dramatic situa-
tions, of historic truth and genuine realism.
"Therese" is named after the heroine, and
celebrates the love and devotion of a woman.
Therese is the wife of a Girondist deputy,
Thorel, the son of a former superintendent of
the Chateau de Clerval, a magnificent place
near Versailles. The Marquis de Clerval is

"WHERE'S THE HERO? O WHERE IS THE HERO?"
Minnie Dupree, the first woman to travel back "The Road to Yesterday" which Mark Twain's
'Yankee Knight" and the hero of Wells's "Time Machine" have taken before her.

668

CURRENT LITERATURE

dead, and his sons are in exile or in the coun-
ter-revolutionary army of Vendee. Armand de
Clerval, Thorel's former companion and friend,
is an "emigrant" in England, and Thorel had
purchased the Chateau after it had been con-
fiscated by the Revolutionary government. He
intends not to keep • it, but to restore it to
Armand upon the return of peace and secur-
ity. Thorel is represented throughout as an
ardent Republican and lover of liberty, but an
enemy of terror, excess and injustice in the
name of liberty.

Therese and Armand Clerval had loved
each other, but the Revolution had separated
them. She had married Thorel, w^hom she
respects and admires for his probity and man-
liness, but she has not forgotten her former
noble adorer.

While Thorel is preparing to leave for
Paris, whither political duty calls him, a trav-
eler appears on the scene. It is Armand
Clerval, who has braved peril and re-entered
France in order to join his brothers and fight
for the old order. He is recognized, and
Therese begs him to abandon his suicidal plan.

Just then a company of volunteers, in the
service of the Revolution, pass the house.
They, are hastening to the frontier, to pro-
tect France and resist the foreign invader.
Thorel points them out to Armand and urges
him to join these defenders of France and
go to the frontier. He refuses, and soon a
municipal functionary seems to recognize the
"emigre," and danger threatens.

Thorel and Therese decide to give him
refuge and protection, the husband knowing
nothing of the danger to his own honor and
happiness involved in the reunion of the two
former lovers.

The second act takes us to Paris. It is
June, 1803, the period of intense excitement,
confusion and peril. From the windows of
the Thorel residence — Clerval being concealed
there — one sees the processions, the criers
with the lists of the condemned, the intox-
icated revelers, the officers and the troops,
and one hears the Revolutionary tambours
from a distance.

Events transpire rapidly within and with-
out. Thorel has obtained a safe conduct for
his monarchist friend, and he is free to de-
part in peace. But Clerval will not go with-
out Therese, whom he persuades to desert her
husband. Love overcomes her strong sense
of duty, and she consents to go with Clerval
to the end of the world.

But just then the fate of the Girondists is
sealed in the convention, and they are ordered

arrested and taken to the conciergcrie, the
half-way house to the guillotine. Thorel is
doomed with the rest. He is arrested, and
at that moment a load of prisoners is taken
past the house to the place of execution.

The horror of the situation comes over
Therese, and she realizes how base it would be
to betray her loyal, chivalrous husband. Rather
will she join him and share his tragic fate.

Clerval, then, must flee alone. She will
stay. She rushes to the window, defies the
revolutionary crowd by shouting in frenzy
and exaltation, "Long live the King! Down
with the Terror!"

The music of this drama, says Gabriel Faure,
the composer and critic, should be placed be-
side that of "La Navarraise," an earlier work
by the same composer (known in this country).
"These two compositions are alike, not only as
regards their small dimensions, but also in
point of rapidity, vehemence and violence of
action; moreover, in both the music is what
may be called theatrical; it is subject to the
slightest movements of the drama, and material
facts and circumstances are as important in
shaping it as are the sentiments of the charac-
ters."

Indeed, continues the critic, the interest in
the personages is perceptibly diminished by
the grandeur of the epoch; the nobility of
Thorel, the lover of Therese and Armand, the
sublime exaltation at the end even, constitute
only small episodes in an overwhelming trag-
edy. The atmosphere, the background, the
scene, overshadow the characters, and what is
really alien to their emotions — the Revolu-
tionary songs, the popular mutterings and
rumblings, the ominous tambours — occupy a
large part of the score.

However, in more than one situation the
Massenet of old is heard in tender, enchanting
melodies, in charming episodes, in noble and
pathetic accents, in melancholy grace and se-
ductive measures. The love music is lyrical
and ardently eloquent, and the contrast be-
tween the dreams of happiness and peace
within and the storm and Revolutionary agi-
tation without is very striking.

Another critic, Darthenay, writes that in
"Therese" the composer of "La Navarraise"
and that of "Werther" collaborated, as it
were. It combines two aspects of Massenet's
genius, and is so "magnificently beautiful"
that it will henceforth have a place of its
own in the story of Massenet's career. The
French Revolution has been novelized before,
but this is the first attempt to set to music the
swift slide of the guillotine.

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

669

THE GOLDEN AGE OF VAUDEVILLE

N THE opinion of those who are in a
position to know, the Golden Age of
vaudeville has dawned in America.
Arnold Daly, Henry de Vries, Mrs.
Langtry, Lillian Russell, Cecilia Loftus,
Charles Hawtryhave added luster to the vaude-
ville stage. In fact the vaudeville has in many
instances of late assumed the functions of
legitimate drama. It is significant in this con-
nection that simultaneously with Mr. Mans-
field's production of ','Peer Gynt," Miss Hilda
England and Mr. Warner Oland appeared at
one of the Proctor vaudeville theaters in New
York City in the two greatest acts £rom the
same play. The two actors have played in
Norway under Ibsen's personal supervision,
and the New York Sun places their interpreta-
tion in some instances above Mansfield's.

Side by side with these developments in
vaudeville proper, the New York Hippodrome
has grown to be the most gigantic enterprise of
its kind in the world. Or, rather, it is unique
in itself, offering not so much a gigantic cir-
cus as a theatrical performance of undreamed-
of magnitude. Some day, perhaps, a man of
genius will utilize this ingenious apparatus in
a world-drama that will make the Wizard of
Bayreuth sit up in his grave !

Not only the recent developments of the
vaudeville, but the plain old-fashioned music-
hall finds enthusiastic champions to-day. In
the Charleston News and Courier appears a
charming essay by Mr. Ludwig Lewisohn, who
tells us that vaudeville may be defended on
broadly human grounds. Man's pleasures are
fleeting and his capacity for pleasure equally
brief. Vaudeville administers to his need.
The serious modern drama, the writer says, is
a stumbling block to the righteous and a source
of strange joy to the cultured. Both unite in
taking the Serious Modern Drama seriously.-
In this they are wrong. Mr. Lewisohn says :

"What impresses me. on the contrary, is the
shameless frivolity of Ibsen and Hauptmann, of
Pinero and, in a slighter measure, of Shaw.
Shakespeare takes the splendid brutalities, the
primal sanctities of life, and upon his stage they
are clothed in the true poetry of their infinite
terror and pity. Our modern gentlemen chop life
into pleasant little problems, or unpleasant, _ as
you choose. Thev tell us that they are dealing
with life. And all the while the awful forms of
Hunger, Fear and Love smile sadly upon these
frivolous puppets."

The musical comedy, we are told, seems

more promising because it does not pretend to
deal with life. It is, however, insufferable be-
cause it is bad art. "The music is thin and
chirpy, the staging gorgeously vulgar, the
fable calculated only to appeal to the meanest
fancy. There is no touch of poetry or im-
agination or even reckless romance. The reck-
lessness is all conscious and calculated and ab*
surd."

But vaudeville is ancient and honest. It
neither criticizes life nor attempts to tell a
story, and, adds Mr. Lewisohn, "it is neither
bad sociology nor absurd morals." The sing-
ing girl, he says, does not ask you to believe
that she is not painted, or that her fantas-
tic costume resembles anything ever worn by
man. And therefore she is the incarnation of
pure art, existing for its own sake, not bor-
ing you by a faulty imitation of nature. She
possesses the appealing beauty of things utter-
ly artificial, utterly unreal, utterly useless and
fragile.

Even more mysterious and delightful are the
jugglers and acrobats. The writer proceeds to
conjure before our vision a series of pictures
wrought with curious and delicate art :

"Who has ever met an artist of innumerable
Indian clubs or a creature with a body of india
rubber at dinner, or in a street car, or known one
to live in the next house? Ask for the name of
your delectable contortionist and yon will be met
by some vocable of undeterminable character ; ask
for the dwelling of the lady who balances a tower
of miscellaneous objects on her nose and you will
meet an empty smile. The human personality of
the juggler eludes you still. There he is, as he
was in Assyrian villages aforetime. He tumbled
in the sun" for dusky Egyptians near the far
sources of the Nile; he tumbled and juggled in
the Vale of Tempe and on the streets of Rome.
He walked a tight rope across the street of gro-
tesque medieval cities and impious burghers neg-
lected the Mystery for his antics. And no one
ever knew his soul ! No acrobat has ever written
self-revelations and you shall search all literature
in vain for any description of him — from within.
Men have always seen him and never known him.
Where does he learn his difficult art? We must
suppose it to be passed on from generation to
generation among that silent confraternity whose
tricks are always the same, whose dress is un-
varying—the same to-day that it was in the Mid-
dle Ages — that confraternity of which each mem-
ber is a direct possessor of traditions of immeas-
urable antiquity. His is the oldest profession but
one and quite the strangest. The ages change,
he is changeless. Men babble with innumerable
tongues; he is silent. He tumbles and does not
break his neck, and he will tumble at the Crack
of Doom."

670

CURRENT LITERATURE

THE DEMOCRACY OF MUSIC ACHIEVED BY INVENTION

UMAN slavery is immoral. On the
[^ slavery of the machine the fu-
ture of the world depends." It is
thus that a great artist has pic-
tured to himself the advance of human prog-
ress. Not content w^ith the application of
mechanical forces to utilitarian purposes, hu-
man ingenuity has, within recent years, lifted
the activity of the machine into the sphere of
art. It is in music especially that the spirit of
man, Ariel-like, guides the sightless demons
of strength — Calibans of mechanics — and out
of the mouth of a machine conjures the
miracle of song. The numerous piano-players,
the phonographs and — latest and most elab-
orate— the Telharmonic System, have assumed
undreamed-of artistic and educational func-
tions. It is written of Eraunhofer, the in-
ventor of the telescope, that he "brought the
stars of heaven nearer to us." Similarly the
inventors of the devices of what is commonly
misnamed "mechanical music" bring the stars
of the opera and of music nearer to the ears
and the hearts of the people. No longer is the
world of music barred from those who are un-
able to pay the tribute of the rich. They,
too, may soon listen for a trifle to Paderewski's
interpretation of an intricate score or hear
from a tube the golden voice of Caruso. And
if the claims of the inventors of the Telhar-
monic System are true, music-lovers in New
York and San Francisco, or even in mid-
ocean, will in the near future be able to listen
simultaneously to the same instrumental per-
formance. In addition to the wonder of such
a feat we are shown, not possibilities, but
realities that, if no unexpected and insur-
mountable difficulty presents itself, will revo-
lutionize the delivery of music.

Carroll Brent Chilton, in The Independent,
pleads enthusiastically for the piano-players,
whose name is legion. Much of what he says
holds true of all instruments popularizing
musical art. Music, he says, is for the ear
of the many rather than for the hand of the
few. Every musician knows that, taking all
music together, not two per cent, of all players
are able to play the rhythm and notes of two
per cent, of the musical compositions in the
world. He also knows that seven-eighths of
these works are never heard performed in pub-
lic, and, what is very much to the point, even
tho they are occasionally given, single per-
formances of larger works are, from the
transitory nature of musical impression, all but

valueless in a pedagogical way. It follows that
ninety-eight per cent, of all music-lovers are
shut out from ninety-eight per cent, of music
all the time. The majority of public perform-
ances are, in Mr. Chilton's opinion, thrown
away in missionary efforts to make the com-
position known. Yet repetition is the mother
of musical appreciation. Long ago Ferdinand
Hiller pointed out that the fundamental evil
in music is the necessity of reproduction of its
artistic creations by performance. "Were it
as easy to learn to rea4 music as words," he
remarked, "the sonatas of Beethoven would
have the popularity of the poems of Schiller."
The lack of perfect familiarity with the lead-
ing master works leads to the childish adula-
tion of the performers. The German Bach So-
ciety took fifty years to publish that master's
compositions, and even now they are pub-
lished to the eye only. Yet to Bach music
owes, in Schumann's words, "almost as great
a debt as a religion to its founder." Even the
"Shakespeare of Music," Beethoven, is largely
unknown. All of which goes to show, Mr.
Chilton affirms, that no subject of human
knowledge is so hysterically admired and yet
so little known to the public at large as music.
The piano-player, we are told, renders the
reading of music as easy as the reading of
words. The inventors of the instrument hard-
ly dreamed that they had created an audible
reading system of music — a primary solid base
upon which the future development of music
may henceforth rest. The serious opinion of
the most thoughtful musicians and educators,
Mr. Chilton informs us, is that "in this little
instrument there lie the germs of a revolution
in the means and in the standpoint of musical
education ; that in music rolls expressing accu-
rate rhythm, pitch and staccato and legato, the
student is provided with a sort of 'audible no-
tation' of the fundamental nucleus of musical
thought — the sounding effect of all that part of
the music which the composer himself could
express in print."

This statement is borne out by the enthusi-
astic endorsement of celebrated musicians, such
as Grieg, Rosenthal and Richard Strauss. The
latter writes of a highly developed type of the
machine, that if he had not himself heard it, he
would not have believed that a piano-player
could render "the very playing of the artist as
if he were sitting personally at the instru-
ment. Even the thought of it," he exclaims,
"appears to me almost like a fairy tale." Har-

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

671

ELECTRIC MUSIC
Two players seated at the "Telharmonium" can, it is claimed, produce orchestral effects simultaneously
in twenty thousand places.

vard, Columbia and other leading universities
have recognized the educational value of such
an instrument. There are over eighty makes
of piano-players in use at present, and their
purely artistic value is inestimable. A gifted
gentleman likened a professional pianist to a
modern Sisyphus. Paderewski, he says, got
his stone to the top of the hill years ago, but
he is obliged to take six or seven hours a day
to prevent it from rolling back. The artist
even takes a piano on tour in his private car.
Hans von Buelow once remarked that if he
stopped practicing one day he knew the differ-
ence, if two days his friends knew it, if three
days the public knew it. On the piano-player
the notes are executed upon a roll by means of
perforated paper, cut and phrased by experts.
This roll passes over a tracker-board, causing
the proper notes to sound at the proper time.

The Metrostyle, a recent addition, furnishes an
artistic interpretation. It is a pointer attached
to the tempo-lever of the player, and follows
a thin wavy red line on the music-roll, .indicat-
ing the exact interpretation of the composition
in question on the part of some musical
master. The Themodist, another attachment,
goes even a step further. It picks out and ac-
cents the vein of melody no matter where it
may run on the keyboard. Thus when the
hands of Paderewski some day will be tremu-
lous with age, this pointer will still indicate
and reproduce the master's interpretation.

It is true that the piano-player is a ma-
chine, but so, as Mr. Chilton points out, is the
human eyeball. The piano-player, too, is
modified by the individual touch, but it ren-
ders unnecessary a mastery of the technical
detail. "There is," he says, "no necessary

672

CURRENT LITERATURE

ccnnection between music and the ten fin-
gers of the human hand." As life grows
more exacting, bodily organs have been obliged
to evolve new organs and capabilities; but, as
Drummond remarks in his "Ascent of Man,"
"the practical advantage is enormous of hav-
ing all improvements external, of having insen-
sate organs made of iron and steel rather than
wasting muscle and palpitating nerve."

Even more fascinating than the music that
flows from the fingers of the performer is the
music that floats from his throat. The talking
machines preserve the record of the human
voice and thus lend immortality to the most
evanescent of arts. "Who," asks M. J. Corey
in The Etude, "would have believed a quarter
of a century ago that ultimately the sound of
Adelina Patti's voice could be heard in every
house in the land ?" He goes on to say :

"Phonographic instruments were not unknown
in the past, but only snarling travesties of the
human voice were heard issuing from them, noth-
ing that could for a moment attract the attention
of a serious lover of good singing. Now the pos-
sibilities of the reproduction of sound have been
so enormously perfected that even an expert con-
noisseur listening from an adjoining room to the
voice of Caruso -issuing from the horn of a talk-
ing machine could be with difficulty persuaded
that the great singer himself was not there."

The great singers of the world thus engrave
their voices upon imperishable scrolls. Each
record is multiplied a thousand times and car-
ries their musical message to the distant quar-
ters of the globe. For the talking machine,
time is not. When Melba shall have joined
the chorus of celestial singers her voice will
still enchant the ears of her children's children
on earth. We are privileged to listen to-day to
the voice of Tamagno, tho the tenor himself
rests in the silence of the grave.

The principle of these machines depends on
the varying length of sound-waves, which in
the form of vibration are transferred by a
little needle upon a diaphragm A camel
through a needle's eye seems little short of im-
possible, yet the modern magician puts a whole
brass band through a needle's point. The
greatest achievement along the lines here in-
dicated was the successful transcript of a
whole opera upon the disks. The opera in
question was "II Trovatore." "This," remarks
The Musical Courier, "means something tre-
mendous in the line of talking machines. If it
can be done with Tl Trovatore' it can ^be done
with any opera." To quote further :

"These disks, following according to their num-
bers and according to their directions, are placed
upon the machine. People sit in the drawing-room
and the operation begins, and the opera is heard

just as it is heard in the opera house, in the Ital-
ian language; or any other opera, in English or
German or French, and thus people who live in
settlements where opera is never performed, who
are not able to go to the opera, have the benefit
of a complete operatic performance in their own
homes or in any public place that may be ar-
ranged for."

The inference follows that this production
will be succeeded by others, and the talking-
machines, like the piano-players, seem to be
destined to be a great agency toward the popu-
larization of music and its artistic appreciation
by the great mass of the people.

More revolutionary than any of the preced-
ing instruments is the Telharmonic System, in-
vented by Dr. Thaddeus Cahill, which more
than realizes a century ahead of time Bellamy's
wildest prophecies. Bellamy, it will be remem-
bered, described how in the year 2000 it was
sufficient to touch a button in order to flood
the room with music. This music proceeded
from central music rooms in various districts
of the city, where trained musicians were con-
stantly employed, the strains of their instru-
ments being simply transmitted over wires.
Dr. Cahill, however, has eclipsed Bellamy's
prophetic vision. His dynamophone does not
transmit or reproduce, but actually creates,
music. By a marvelous device with which
the inventor has experimented for over four-
teen years, electrical currents of a certain
predetermined quality are sent out from
an instrument at a central source. It be-
comes music if it finds at the other
end of the line a vocal organ capable of
converting the vibrations of currents into
sound. The machinery itself is not music-
producing. It has been called "Telharmonium,"
but owing to its vastness and complexity, it
should be described as a system rather than an
mstrument. It can transmit music — or, rather,
currents capable of being converted into sound
—thousands of miles, and will be able to play,
it is claimed, simultaneously to twenty thou-
sand audiences. It is the largest musical organ
m the world, and requires a plant the cost of
which is placed at $200,000. Its sole function.
The Independent informs us, is to generate,
blend and transmit to suitable conductors, an al-
ternating current of varying frequency of
vibration. Each of the numerous dynamos in
the basement is wound in such a manner as
to give a current of given frequency of
vibration. Thus constructed, it can give noth-
ing else, cannot possibly get "out of tune" un-
less its winding is changed. When a current
possessing certain qualities is needed, the pres-
sure of a key in the keyboard of the organ-like

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

673

construction upstairs closes the circuit, and
takes as much or as little of it as may be re-
quired for the purposes of the operator. It
reaches the circulatory system through a de-
vice called a tone-mixer, a transformer, by
which, in some way not easily explained in
intelligible language, currents are modified and
brought into proper relation to other currents.

When the keys are touched, currents of spe-
cific frequencies of vibration are passed by me-
tallic contact to the conductors. Save for the
clicking of the keys, complete silence reigns in
the room. It is only when the receiver, in a
manner analogous to the action of the tele-
phone, translates the electric waves into
sound waves that music is produced. The
company plans to lay four cables for classical,
sacred, light and modern music respectively in
New York City. An interesting possible
variation is the substitution of an ordinary
arc-light for the telephone transmitter, as the
means of producing the mechanical vibration
necessary for the air agitation required to pro-
duce the sound. This fantastic possibility has
not yet been fully worked out, but the near
future is likely to see musical dinner parties at
which the music is produced by an electric lamp !

The invention presents, however, yet another
aspect that may indeed change the course of
musical history. The possibilities of this new
musical instrument, remarks Marion Melius
in The World's Work, "are almost lim-
itless, for not only can it produce tones of
almost all the known orchestral instruments,
but it creates musical sounds never heard be-
fore." He goes on to say:

"The tones of the different orchestral instru-
ments are secured by mixing with the ground
tone one or more harmonics in the required pro-
portions. For instance, at a touch of the third
and fourth harmonic stops, which are located
above the keyboard something in the manner in
which organ stops are arranged, the performer
may change a flutelike note to the sound of a
clarinet, or, by using all the harmonics up to the
eighth, the tone may be transformed into a string
sound. Another combination of harmonics gives
the strident sound of brass. As a final triumph.
a musician can so combine the harmonics as to
produce musical timbres unknown before. He
may develop an almost limitless number of new
sounds according as his patience and his soul
direct. Electrically he produces the different
musical timbres by mixing vibrations of different
frequencies. The effect of a full orchestra is
brought about satisfactorily when two players are
at the keyboard."

A still more remarkable feature of the sys-
tem is the delicacy of control which makes it
possible that a listener in Chicago will be able
to tell by the difiference in the touch whether

WILL HE REVOLUTIONIZE MUSIC?
Dr. Thaddeus Cahill, who invented and perfected in
fourteen years a marvelous system of electric music.

Paderewski or Bauer is seated at the instru-
ment in New York ! The keyboard, based on
the ideal arrangement of Helmholtz, is still so
complicated that it takes years of practice in
order to be able to play upon it. The inventor
is at present engaged upon the work of sim-
plifying it so that the great artists of the piano
will be able to control at once the soul of this
many-mouthed musical giant.

The instruments here surveyed cannot fail to
popularize music and to educate the taste of
the public. The great mass of people will then
be prepared, eventually, for the reception of a
new musical Messiah. Strauss and Wagner
have almost exhausted the resources of music.
When the musical redeemer comes he will be
able by means of the Telharmonic System to
draw unimagined harmonies from the caves of
sound, and create a music of the future differ-
ing as radically from the music of to-day as a
performance of the Metropolitan Opera House
differs from the strains that fell monotonously
from the rude reed of a Grecian shepherd.
Rich and poor will partake of the riches he
brings. Thus the democracy of music will
triumphantly be established.

674

CURRENT LITERATURE

JULIA MARLOWE'S VICTORIOUS INVASION OF ENGLAND

FTER a slight uncertainty in the be-
^ ginning, Julia Marlowe and E. H.
Sothem's invasion of theatrical Eng-
land has proved an unqualified tri-
umph. The London Chronicle speaks of the
event as the arrival of the "most refined and
high-purposed dramatic art that America has
sent since the ever-to-be-remembered visits of
Miss Ada Rehan and Daly's company of come-
dians." The performance of "The Sunken
Bell," it goes on to say, was "a revelation of
what good and sincere and competent poetic
acting America can produce, what real beauty
and delicacy of taste of production, what quite
remarkable powers of speaking English as it
should be spoken." To quote further :

"Never once throughout the whole evening did
one hear in the principal part a trace of Yankee
twang or drawl or vulgarity of speech. As a mat-
ter of fact, the verse of Mr. Meltzer's translation
of Hauptmann's beautiful German fairy play, 'The
Sunken Bell,' was spoken with a precision, a
roundness and crispness that would put many
linglish actors to shame. It is to be doubted, in-
deed, if one did not hear purer English at the
Waldorf last night than one does in the majority
of the West-end theaters — the English that went
ever to America in the Mayflower, and has curi-
ously stayed there."

Miss Marlowe and Mr. Sothern did not go
as aliens to England. Both were born on Brit-
ish soil, though artistically America alone may
call them its own. The case of Mr. Sothern,
remarks The Morning Advertiser, has an ad-
ditional claim on England's attention. "For,"
it asks, "have we not laughed in the days gone
by till our sides ached at the whimsicalities of
his father as Lord Dundreary." Nevertheless,
Julia Marlowe has received warmer plaudits
than her male compeer. Sothern, as it were,
interests England, but leaves it cold; Marlowe
captivates and delights.

The choice of the inaugural play — Haupt-
mann's fairy-comedy — was not very happy.
London stood bewildered before its symbolism
and complained of the monotony of the decla-
mation in what the critics choose to regard as
a "philosophic pantomime." Mr. Walkley in
The Times remarks: "Miss Marlowe gives the
grace and elfishness and charm of Rautende-
lein, Mr. Sothern gives the alternate courage
and despair of Heinrich, but we cannot say
that they give these figures a fresh and exu-
berant life." "Miss Marlowe," he continues,
"is not exactly a frisky fairy; Mr. Sothern's
Heinrich is occasionally tame. A tame over-
man! What would Nietzsche say?" When,

however, the two English actors appeared in
plays more germane to the British mind, such
as Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night" and "Ro-
meo and Juliet," the tenor of the criticism
changed completely. Mr. Walkley himself,
that severe task-master of histrionic art, does
not hesitate to speak of Marlowe's Viola as
"bewitching." He goes on to say :

"The purely sensuous element of Shakespeare,
in the poet's picture of frankly joyous and full-
blooded womanhood, the actress is in her element
mistress of her part, revelling in it and swaying
the audience by an irresistible charm. She aims
at no startling 'effects'; she seems to be simply
herself— herself, that is, glorified by the romance of
the part — enjoying the moment for the moment's
sake, and so making the moment a sheer enjoy-
ment for the spectator. That is now clearly shown
which in her earlier parts could be only divined —
that she has a genuine individuality, a tempera-
ment of real force and peculiar charm. High-
arched brows over wide-open, eloquent eyes ;_ a
most expressive mouth, now roguish with mis-
chief, now trembling with passion ; a voice with
a strange croon in it, with sudden breaks and
sobs — these, of course, are purely physical quali-
ties which an actress might have and yet not
greatly move us. But behind these things in Miss
Marlowe there is evidently an alert intelligence,
a rare sense of humor and a nervous energy which
make, with her more external qualities, a combina-
tion really fine. She beguiled not only Olivia
but the whole house last night to admiration.
Here, then, is one of Shakespeare's true women."

Sothern, too, made his mark in this play.
"He is," Mr. Walkley remarks, "an excellent
Malvolio; quiet, yet not tame, grave, but not
preternaturally grave, fantastic without undue
extravagance." The Evening Standard is even
more enthusiastic in its comments: "This
American treatment of Shakespeare," it re-
marks, "is delightful. They give him dignity
without dulness, reticence without austerity, fun
without buffoonery. Beauty is the keynote of
the treatment — simplicity and beauty." Miss
Marlowe's Olivia, according to this critic, is
frankly feminine. She is not a boy in dis-
guise. But her very femininity is pronounced
delicious. "There is danger," the writer goes
on to say, "of becoming Marlowe worshipers,
if she goes on like this." To quote further :

"It is open to criticism to say that there is evi-
dence of premeditation in all she does; one would
not urge that the outstanding feature of her art is
that it is art concealed. That may be admitted.
But, while one watches her and listens to her, one
would have it so. Miss Marlowe adds music to
the music of Shakespeare, cadence to his rhythms."

This performance turned the tide in favor of
the American players and initiated their con-
quest of England.

Science and Discovery

THE APPLIED SCIENCE OF A THEATRICAL
MYSTIFICATION

NE of the most mystifying illusions
ever produced by the application of
physics to the exigencies of. the
S^^ stage, in the opinion of that compe-
tent authority, The Scientific American, is
based upon so simple an accessory as a huge,
oval tank. As the curtain sinks — for in this
electrical age curtains sink not less naturally
than they rise — we see a fishing village with
the cabin of Marceline, a droll clown, to the
left. This cabin is an important adjunct in
the effect. The whole front of the stage is
taken up by the huge tank, filled with placid
yet genuine water. At the appropriate mo-
ment up from the sea rises the beautiful
Sirene, Queen of the Mermaids. She pleads
with the hero to plunge beneath the surface
of the water. He hesitates. Sirene summons
her mermaids, who rise from the sea. The
hero follows Sirene beneath the surface of the
waves, whereupon the heroine begs Neptune to
restore her lover. Neptune, in his barge
drawn by mermaids, emerges from the deep,
takes the heroine aboard and to the amaze-
ment of the audience the boat with its burden
actually sinks out of sight. There are four in
the little vessel when it goes down. Nine mer-
maids arise from the water and seem to stand
quite firmly on its surface.

It is difficult, says our scientific authority, to
call this an illusion because it is so very real.
The mermaids do in fact appear on the sur-
face. They actually go down again. The tank
is known to be of solid concrete, without an
opening. It is a great puzzle to decide what
becomes of the mermaids in the interval be-
tween their successive appearances.

The mystification is the invention of H. L.
Bowdoin, of New York City, who conceived
the idea of utilizing the principle of the diving-
bell. To illustrate the working of this device,
we are told by The Scientific American to take
a glass tumbler and plunge it into the water
with the mouth perpendicularly downward. It
will be found that very little water will rise
in the tumbler, but as air is compressible it
does not entirely exclude the water, which by
its pressure condenses the air a little. The
invention provides means whereby, with the

aid of a tank of water, drowning, disappearing,
rescuing and other scenes can be effectively
rendered.

At the proper time, it is necessary for her to
plunge into the water actually and she must
dive for the entrance to the bell. Her attend-
ant quickly draws her into breathing space.
Each mermaid is provided with a separate
diving chamber and with a separate attendant.
The fishermen who dive into the water share
with the mermaids the air chambers provided
for them and they come to the surface after
they have given the audience the idea that they
had been at the bottom of the sea.

Courtesy 7Vie Sciii.tijlc Ameruan

THE MECHANICS OF ILLUSION
The mermaids spend some of their time under the
surface of a large tank filled with water. They
breathe under air bells. They are enabled to com-
municate with the prompter on the stage by means
of a telephone. Within each air bell is a stage car-
penter who raises the mermaid to the surface by
means of an elevator apparatus operated by a winch.

676

CURRENT LITERATURE

Courtesy Tht IVorld's Work

THE MOSQUITO'S LIFE HISTORY
iA) A cluster of eggs called "an egg-boat." (B) A single egg standing on the surface of the water and
showing in the series the hatching of the larva, or "wriggler." (C) A young larva with its breathing
tubes in contact with the air. (D) The terminal tube, dropped off when the "wriggler" changes to a pupa.
(£) The first form of the pupa. (F) The larval head discarded. (G) A pupa nearly formed, showing the
funnel-shaped tubes at the "forehead," through which it must now breathe. (//) A young pupa breathing;
the outlines of the mosquito begin to appear.

THE SECRETS OF THE MOSQUITO

LTHO supposed to live on blood, not
one-tenth of one per cent, of the
mosquito family ever revels in a
single drop of gore, says Dr. Ed-
ward A. Ayers, who starts in The World's
Work with a basket of mosquito eggs and con-
cludes with the last cycle in the life of the
mature insect as a means of showing that the
subject is still involved in misconception.
From 200 to 400 eggs are deposited by a
mother mosquito at a single laying, according
to Dr. Ayres, who corrects many blunders
that have been widely disseminated on this
and kindred points. The eggs of the rhosquito
are about one-sixteenth of an inch long, dark
in shade, and at the larger end they have a
sort of bottle mouth, sealed with a thin, deli-
cate membrane. Out of this plugged aperture
in the ^g% will come the wriggler. The eggs
themselves can remain uninjured throughout
a whole winter, hatching out in the warm

spring days, if not a little earlier. The "mother
hen mosquito," says Dr. Ayers, "can spend the
winter in a cake of ice" and begin to lay when
the thaw arrives.

The larva or wriggler must find itself in a
swimming medium when it emerges from the
^g%. So the eggs are laid on the water. The
batch of eggs all glued together will float like
a leaf. This is called an ''^gg boat." For a
couple of days the G.g% boat will drift. Should
the pool on which it floats dry up, no wrigglers
will ever come forth. If the Fates are kind, if
the sun is warm, the mouth-covering films
which seal the eggs will rend apart and the
embryo larvae dive head first from the t^gg
crypts into the water.

This wriggler, as it is styled at the present
stage, moves with a jerky motion and can sur-
vive only in water, since it thrives upon the
impurities of the moist environment. The
wriggler will starve in distilled water, altho

Courtesy The IVorld's IVork

LARV^ AND PUP^ IN WATER

Courtesy 'Ihe IVorld

PUP^ HATCHING INTO MOSQUITOS
(A) Water surface, with pupae eetting air. (B)
lop surface of the water. ft)) Two pupae just
hatching. (F) A mosquito climbing.

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

677

its system can absorb poisons that would kill
a human baby. Kerosene is fatal to the wrig-
gler, for the oil stops its supply of air. The
little wriggler resembles the whale in its de-
pendence upon air breathing, but it can re-
main below the surface of its element much
longer, in proportion to its size, than any
variety of whale. There is a trumpet-like
tube extending from the wriggler's tail end,
through which, when on the surface of the
water, the little creature inhales the air at in-
tervals of one minute or so. This, Dr. Ayers
explains — and this point is in need of elucida-
tion— is why kerosene is so fatal to the mos-
quito, or, to be more accurate, to the wriggler.
The wriggler draws in a dose of kerosene
with its first effort at respiration and dies
from convulsions.

Should the wriggler escape kerosene and
arrive at maturity, it will measure three-
eighths of an inch from the crown of its head
to the tip of the trumpet-like tube. It has
done much scavenging by removing vegeta-
ble decay from its native element. Wrigglers
are very quarrelsome among themselves and
they even devour insects tinier than them-
selves when they can get any.

Time comes when the wriggler sheds its
skull, face, collar and breathing-tube. The
chest swells. Two breathing-tubes begin to
protrude frontward. The wriggler has dis-
appeared. We have now a pupa. The pupa
can breathe, see and swim. But no food or
drink can pass its lips because, as Dr. Ayers
tells us, a pupa has no lips. It is a period of
abstinence in the life cycle of what is to be-
come a mosquito :

"If you put on the great eye of the microscope
and watch the pupa through his two days' prep-
aration, you will see quickly forming within his
transparent shell the outlines of a mosquito.

Courtesy TAe H'orlcTs H'ork

A MOSQUITO EMERGING FROM ITS VUV\

SHELL

Drawn from life under the microscope

"And now, when his natal hour has come, yon
will observe that he lies just against the surface
of the water — a little globule of air enclosed in
his forehead serving to bring this submarine just
to the surface; you will see his shell suddenly
split open along the back, just as many a boy has
seen occur in a locust as it clings to the trunk of
a tree. You will next observe his shoulders slow-
ly rise through this crack in his shell up into the
air, then his head, antennae and forelegs. He
straightens out his soft wet legs and plants his
feet upon the water surface. He lifts his body,
wings, and remaining legs free from his child-
hood shell and, having little air cups in the hol-
lows of his feet, he finds himself able to stand
upon the water. Then he unfolds his wings and
dries them, straightens and loosens his antenna;,
takes a brief glance at his new surroundings, then
flies into the air and begins to sing.

Courtesy T/u W^rltCs IVork

THE MOSQUITO'S LIFE HISTORY
(/) A fully developed pupa. (/) A mosquito beginning to hatch; he does not touch the water.
(K) Fully hatched and standing on the water to dry. (L) The pupa shell left floating on the water.

678

CURRENT LITERATURE

HOW THE FAST STARS "PENETRATE" THE SLOW STARS

HERE are two great "star drifts"
among the so-called "fixed stars,"
which are not fixed at all, it would
appear from a recent discussion be-
fore the British Astronomical Association, as
reported in London Nature. One body of
stars moves three or four times as fast as the
other. Hence the slow stars are penetrated by
the fast ones. Our sun appears to be one of
the fast-moving stars and is drifting away, if

we are to accept one view, towards the con-
stellation Hercules, altho there is good reason,
say other astronomers, to infer that the move-
ment may be towards Canopus, "the biggest,
the quickest, and hottest thing in the universe."
But wherever our sun may be drifting or fly-
ing, it is proceeding in the company of the
rapidly moving half of the cosmos. The sun
has also a motion of its own among these stars.
If, therefore, any portion of the heavens be

THE MOVEMENT OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM

In i2"course'it*DiIrii"/slow^«^tJf»n°H X!J^^ ^ l?'=°-",f '" *^? direction of the constellation Hercules.

iLe witi llie su^ tL «frr»^W fi^^ '"°r,»°« «**"' indicated by an arrow, keep

pace wjtn tne sun. Ihe stars that find the pace too hot are swaUowed up, trampled down.

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

679

selected, it will be found that in the area
chosen are a number of stars which do not
seem to be moving in any particular direction.
These sluggish stars are the ones that are pen-
etrated by the rapidly moving ones, the latter
appearing to be equally distributed all over the
heavens. "The one heavenly army is, as it
were, piercing the other." Such is one result
of trying to determine the solar motion by
spectroscopically measuring the radial veloci-
ties of the stars. The calculations involved
are abstruse as well as fine, but such is their

general result. But motion in the sense here
indicated is purely relative, as there are no
fixed points in space. The mathematics of the
subject indicate that the fast stars are travel-
ing at the rate of about thirteen miles a sec-
ond. That is about the speed of the sun in its
journey through space. The spectroscope af-
fords most aid in establishing this part of the
theory. That the cosmos is halved into a fast
star army and a slov.'er star army is, observes
Nature, a hypothesis only, but a plausible and
workable one.

IS THERE SUCH A THING AS INSANITY?

P^ NGLO-SAXONS are so prone to
take common-sense views of things
that they seldom realize the full
force of the familiar saying that all
men have some form of madness in them. The
sound inference is, as is pointed out by Dr.
G. H. Savage, the eminent English alienist, in
a recent Lancet paper, that perfect sanity
would be not only undesirable in itself, but
from a strictly scientific point of view impos-
sible. For a perfectly sane person, were such
a being thinkable, would be dull and uninter-
esting— a mediocrity, a nonentity. The point
to seize, however, as Dr. Savage impresses
upon us, is that there can be no comprehensive
idea or definition of insanity because the thing
does not really exist. No scientist can set up
any standard of rationality departure from
which would comprise or denote insanity.
One can diagnose a case of typhoid because it
is a continued fever characterized by a pecul-
iar course of the temperature, by marked ab-
dominal symptoms, by an eruption upon the
skin. But there is nothing in what goes by the
name of insanity to further a diagnosis as that
term is understood by medical men generally.
Some treatises upon insanity prove nothing at
all by proving too much, for they make whole
nations insane at once. Physicians connected
with insanity, as Dr. Savage argues, resemble
gardeners rather than botanists. "We classify
for convenience rather than upon a scientific
basis, because, in point of fact, no such basis
or finality of mode has as yet been discovered."
Perhaps, adds Dr. Savage, there is no need
to wonder at this, since many have to be
treated as lunatics whose brains and nervous
systems show no change whatever from the

normal course of what is recognized as sanity.
Unfortunately, the impulse to define and clas-
sify sometimes leads to misinterpretation of a
deplorable kind. Such, for example, is the
false view, as Dr. Savage deems it, that every
person of unsound mind is a lunatic. That, he
says, is a "pseudo-legal" absurdity. "Obvious-
ly there are many persons of unsound mind
who are neither dangerous to themselves nor
to others — why, therefore, regard them as
aliens?" The true difficulty, insists this dis-
tinguished expert, is that the disease insanity
does not exist. Yet one might almost conclude
from the elaborate articles in our leading daily
journals that such a thing as insanity is a
definitely established scientific fact, that it is a
malady as definite in its symptoms and origin
as, say, cancer or tuberculosis.

It is impossible. Dr. Savage further says, for
the physician to view abnormalities of mind,
whether congenital or acquired, as having a
common origin and requiring a similar treat-
ment. There is no such thing as a bacillus of
insanity. One of the many difficulties which
the study of unusual types of mentality in-
volves is the necessity of regarding them from
so many dififerent standpoints. The medical
man concerns himself with the evidences of
bodily disease to be discovered in the brain or
in one of the bodily dependents of the brain.
The lawyer looks not so much to symptoms as
to the questions of reason and responsibility,
whether, in fact, the individual can recognize
what he is doing and the consequences of it.
The public at large considers chiefly questions
of conduct, asking whether a person is dan-
gerous to himself or to others. We constantly
meet with statements that many people are

68o

CURRENT LITERATURE

placed in asylums because they are trouble-
some to others rather than because they are
dangerous. Again persons are said to be "out
of their minds" when they are in reality "out
of their surroundings." The trouble is not in
the mind of the person but in the environment.
It would correct popular notions of insanity
in a desirable way, if we could all be brought
to see that what seems to be a trouble of the
mind is often but a lack of adaptability to en-
vironment. A man may seem to be insane to
those who aggravate or madden him, with
never a thought of modifying their own be-
havior.

In judging the conduct of any person sup-
posed to be insane or of unsound mind, it must
be recognized that similar conduct may arise
from totally different disorders or circum-
stances, and also that the mind is a very com-
plex thing, which has many ways of express-
ing the same feeling:

"Take, for example, the exaltation of ideas in
a patient believing himself to be a king or a per-
son of distinction. Such an idea may correspond
with a temporary increase of pulse rate, and I
have seen it prominent or suppressed as the pulse
varied. It may succeed to the loss of judgment
as a feeling of buoyancy in general paralysis of
the insane; it may be associated with the tem-
porary disorder produced by brain poisoning —
say by lead or alcohol ; or it may be a slow
growth in some 'mute inglorious Milton' or lone-
ly idealist, who, possibly building on the 'might
have been,' finally recognizes in himself or her-
self a scion of royalty or an inspired poet. Or
again, perhaps in a more advanced stage of de-
generation of tissue the patient may have begun
by feeling that he was watched or spied upon,
until at length he discovered that all this was
merely the protection essential to the movements
of a royal personage — himself. In each case the
conduct of the patient is similar, tho the under-
lying ideas are so different. Similarly, I have of-
ten had to point out that what might be a reason-
able act in one person would be insane extrava-
gance in another. I mention these facts here be-
cause in determining what is meant by insanity
or what is to be done for it the circumstances and
environment have always to be considered. And
notwithstanding their mutual points of resem-
blance, no one pathology or treatment is applic-
able to all such cases.

"A question which I am often asked is whether
I believe that certain persons only can be driven
insane, whether the rest can never be driven
mad — whether in regard to these latter anything
whatever in the shape of exciting cause will
produce definite symptoms without the insane
proclivity. My reply is that almost anyone may
have delirium, which is temporary insanity; that
almost anyone, given certain physical causes, may
have general paralysis. Also, as is sufficiently
evident, that with advancing years the powers of
the mind, both on the motor and sensory sides,
may be' impaired or disabled before the other
functions of the body. Yet this notwithstanding,
I still believe there are some persons who can

hardly be driven mad by any outside stress or
emotional cause. And surely it is worthy of con-
sideration that so many very aged persons retain
their senses and reasoning power almost unim-
paired until the very last. On the other hand,
that there is a class of persons accurately de-
scribed as 'neurotic' is very evident; and it is
equally certain that it is this class which pro-
vides the largest number of sufferers."

The conclusion then follows, as Dr. Savage
states it, that since there is "no definite entity"
of insanity there can be no comprehensive defi-
nition of it. What is reasonable conduct in
one man under certain conditions may be stark
madness in another. "I often think," says Dr.
Savage, "of a splendid animal whom I saw —
the son of a distinguished father who rightly
judged his son to be an anachronism — out of
place, in fact; and considered that he would
have made a fine knight in the Middle Ages,
and perhaps even now might make a good
cowboy." It becomes evident from such a case
that there may be some who have a reason for
attributing the causes of their position as luna-
tics to their wrong surroundings. Insanity, so
far as the term may be used at all, is merely,
then, a question of degree. For example, a
small amount of miserliness may be all right.
But when we find it developed into the habits
of the recluse who starves himself tho he has
plenty of money, avoids all society and neg-
lects cleanliness and all the simpler conven-
tions of life, he is treated as "insane." Yet
Dr. Savage knew a recluse with plenty of
money who lived a hermit's life for thirty
years or more, prowling about the streets at
night and lying in bed during the day, but no
steps were taken to lock him up as mad, be-
cause he interfered with nobody and was in
all other respects normal. On the other hand,
Dr. Savage was called upon to examine a sim-
ilar case resulting in the patient's removal to
an asylum because his neglected abode was
deemed unsanitary by the authorities. "Thus
we see that similar conduct is or is not re-
garded as insanity, according to the condi-
tions." If, adds Dr. Savage, there should be
some who regard this view as of little prac-
tical importance, statistically or otherwise — as
referring in fact to a very small area in the
wide field covered by the specialist in mental
abnormality — as not affecting in a vital degree
the estimated sum total of the so-called insane,
he is not in agreement with them. Dr. Savage
maintains that very many of the seemingly
mentally unbalanced, of the insane, of the mad,
owe their position not to anything abnormal in
their mentality but largely to their surround-
ings. "The part which their surroundings and

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

68i

circumstances have played as a factor in the
determination of their position is precisely
what is often important to consider before any
reliable statistics can be built up in regard to
the mental evolution or degeneration of the
race." Dr. Savage concludes:

"With regard to a certain degree of a particu-
lar habit or feeling being considered normal, but
its excess insanity, I may give the example of a
very devoted husband who with advancing years
dreaded the absence, even for a very short time,
of his wife. Later he began to suspect that she
was more absent than was necessary. Finally,
tho there was not the slightest ground for sus-
picion, he demanded from her a confession of
her misconduct, calmly observing that he would
forget and forgive. Thus the overgrowth of
natural affection and the suspicion of an imagi-
nary sin have led, I fear, to a permanent delusion
wrecking two lives. Where are we to look for
the material basis of such a delusion? The con-

ditions are still more complicated when the per-
son proves to be a social misfit. There are some,
like my cowboy youth, who are out of harmony
with their surroundings from the -first. There
are others who as a result of education, disease
or other circumstances or causes, pass into a
social grade different from their own. I have
known public school and university men who
have proved quite unfit for their natural home
and yet they have done admirably as artizans.
Are we to have a pathology for such conditions?
Of course, a certain number of these social fail-
ures add to the numbers of the insane in our in-
firmaries and asylums. Undoubtedly some may
say there is some brain defect in these persons to
account for their degradation ; but how about the
chance of reformation, and, in regard to those who
have been converted, are we to have a pathol-
ogy of conversion as well as of perversion? At
any rate the fact remains that not only from the
social but from all other standpoints insanity is
judged rather from conduct than from any
known mental symptoms."

THE CANALS ON MARS AS RESULTS OF A NEWLY DIS-
COVERED VISUAL HALLUCINATION

N HOLDING up to ridicule the
canals on Mars as illusions of the
vision, Professor Andrew Ellicott
Douglass, of the University of Ari-
zona, is reminded of the eminent German
scientist who declared that, were a journey-
man to fashion him a piece of mechanism so
ill adapted to its purpose as the human eye, he
would refuse to pay for it. We see to-day
astronomers of world-
wide eminence basing a
theory of the habitabil-
ity of a remote planet
upon a series of optical
phantasmagoria desti-
tute of all objective
reality and resulting
from so simple a thing
as a fixed stare or the
position of the head as
the eye scrutinizes its
own vain imaginings
through a tube. Not
only are there no
canals on Mars, but
there are no markings
on the planet of the
sort made familiar by
recent text-books. To
be sure, eminent as-
tronomers deny that
the things they think
they see can be illu-

From Tkt Pofutar ScietiL,- M,i:-)::y

A MARTIAN ILLUSION
(Fig. 1)
Place this cut at some six to eight feet from the
dye_ and look at it from time to time, taking care to
avoid fatigue. Around it will appear a whitish area
limited externally by a faint dark line forming a
perfect circle, as if traced by a pair of compasses.

sions of vision. They call them oases and
lakes, from which networks of canalization
radiate everywhere. A little knowledge of the
tricks played upon us by our own eyes will,
thinks Professor Douglass, explode all con-
temporary Martian hypotheses. He has care-
fully studied the "faint canals" by the methods
of experimental psychology, only to find that
they do not exist. All the markings on Mars
with which the latest
works on that planet
acquaint us may not be
delusions of the sight,
of course, but the most
significant of them cer.-
tainly are. To under-
stand this more clearly
we must, according to
Professor Douglass,
consider first of all an
optical phenomenon
called the halo. It is a
new discovery.

To observe this,
place Fig. i at a dis-
tance of six to eight
feet from the eye and
look at it from time to
time, taking care to
avoid fatigue. Around
it will appear a whitish
area limited externally
by a faint dark line

682

CURRENT LITERATURE

forming a perfect circle, as if traced
by a pair of compasses. This external
ring or secondary image has a sensi-
ble width and appears blackest on its
sharp inner edge. When once caught,
which is usually at the first view, it
is a striking phenomenon. Professor
Douglass finds on the whole that
trained eyes are the ones that see it
most quickly.

A more beautiful and elegant way
of making the experiment is by stand-
ing a black-headed pin in the middle
of a white-walled room and looking at
it against the distant white back-
ground. Around the head of the pin
will then appear this halo, more beau-
tiful than before, suspended in mid-
air, in the good old-fashioned manner
of saintly halos.

The experiment thus described
gives the "negative" halo. It is
more particularly referred to in the
article by Professor Douglass in The Popu-
lar Sience Monthly, from which these de-
tails are extracted. The "negative" halo
is more easily seen than the "positive"
halo. The "positive" form of the halo, how-
ever, is most readily seen by a similar method.
Let a white-headed pin be substituted for the
other and looked at against a black back-
ground. Similarly, a white circle is seen. The
difficulties in this case arise irom reflections
on the head of the pin, and its generally less
even illumination.

The efifect, however, is the same. Extending
all around the head of the pin at a distance of
about 7' of arc (one inch at a distance of 500
inches) is an intensified zone in which the

From TAe fofulat
Science Monthly

Fig. 2. Photo-
graphic Halation
Ring about Can-
dle Flame, formed
by reflection in-
side the glass
plate on which
the picture was
taken, very simi-
lar in its appear-
ance to the halo
here described.

From The Popular Science Monthly

FIG. 3. 'DOT' MOTE OUTSIDE
THE YELLOW SPOT

color of the background appears
stronger ; and outside of that a reduc-
tion zone, or ring, or secondary
image, in which the intensity of the
background is reduced by the addition
of some of the color of the spot ob-
served.

In order to find the cause of this
halo, many tests were made by Pro-
fessor Douglass, of which the first was
upon the size of the central spot. It
was found that the distance from the
edge of the spot to the secondary
image is constant; that the width of
the secondary image increases to
some extent with the size of the spot,
and that the intensified area increases
its intensification with the size of the
spot. If the spot is so small as to be
barely visible, the halo may still be
seen, but the intensified zone then
appears of the same intensity as the
background.
If the spot is enlarged sufficiently, both pos-
itive and negative halos are seen along its mar-
gin, one outside and one inside, so that in a
straight line separating light and dark areas
the positive halo piay be seen in the dark area
and the negative halo in the light. If two
small spots are placed so that their halos in-
tersect, the halo of each may usually be seen
complete. Says Professor Douglass:

"If the spots are larger the halos can not be
traced within each other's precincts, and on en-
larging the spots still more they soon act as one
mark with regard to the halo, which assumes an
elliptical form around them. From these and
other experiments along the same line, it appears
that the intensified zone or white area, as I shall
generally call it, referring to the negative experi-
ment, displays an increased
sensitiveness to presence or
absence of color of the spot
looked at, but a decided
deadening in the perception
of details.

"My first idea in regard to
this halo was that it came to
life like the camera ghost,
from reflections between lens
surfaces in the eye ; but I
found that it could be pro-
duced through any portion of
the crystalline lens. A pin
hole one-fiftieth of an inch in
diameter passed before the
pupil of the eye demonstrated
this.

"It then seemed possible
that some form of halation
in the membranes close to
the retina might produce this
eff^ect. The common photo-
graphic halation ring, which

FIG. 4. 'DOT' MOTE IN YELLOW
SPOT BUT NOT IN FOVEA

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

683

closely resembles it, is produced by reflection
from the back of a glass plate, but can only occur
under certain conditions. This halo, however,
occurs on all margins and cannot be due to that
cause.

"At this stage a certain chromatic ring was
observed, and suggested some obscure color con-
ditions as the cause. Hence color tests were
made in large numbers, and the black spot was
tried on different colored backgrounds without
effect. Different colored spots against a dark
background were also observed without effect,
save that the secondary image, when sufficiently
bright, was seen to be of the color of the spot
itself; therefore color was not responsible for
the halo.

"But these color observations opened up a very
interesting line of study. The color tests had
to be made in the positive form with all the at-
tendant difficulties of fatigue and after-images.
It was found that a short gaze at a red disk on
a black background, followed by a slight move-
ment of the eye to one side, carried away a dark
green after-image of the disk surrounded by a
red margin about the size of the intensified zone.
This intensified zone became still more con-
spicuous by longer fixation of the gaze upon the
colored spot."

To observe this, half-inch disks of red, yel-
low, green and blue paper were pasted ver-
tically on ends of long needles and placed in
strong lamp light at a distance of eight feet
from the eye. After a long unwinking gaze at
one of the disks, until general color sensitive-
ness seemed to be disappearing and the color
of the disk itself seemed to be spreading out
around it, a quick closing of the eye or the
mere placing of a sheet of paper before the
open eyes revealed a very interesting succes-
sion of changes. They are thus described by
Professor Douglass :

"A black or green disk with a limited red mar-
gin filling the intensified zone, limited by the dark
halo. This effect lasted for a very brief instant
of time, like the common
positive after-image.

"The outline soon reap-
peared, the red disk and all
white objects taking a dark
indigo-blue color, the re-
mainder of the field being a
bright yellow. This effect
might last a minute or two.

"During the height of
this effect a negative halo
appeared for a time around
the dark after-image of the
disk at the usual distance
of 7 feet. The success of
this experiment depends
largely upon steadiness of
vision and the avoidance of
winking. The determination
of the effect of different
colors and conditions offers
a fine field for investigation."

view to locating the cause of this halo phe-
nomenon was made on motes that so often
float by the line of vision. This was done
by looking at a highly illuminated area
through a small pin hole held close to the
eye. Three classes of motes were observed:
First, the usual cell fragments and groups;
secondly, rapidly moving objects probably of
similar character, and, thirdly, minute black
dots, which from their motions seemed
to be located in the same region as the first,
probably not far in front of the retina. On
this last class, some beautiful phenomena were
observed.

When one of these spots was outside a re-
gion identified as approximately the yellow
spot, it appeared as a circular dark area of
some thirty minutes' diameter, as shown in
Fig. 3. When it came within the yellow spot
it became lighter and was surrounded by the
halo with its intensified zone and secondary
image well defined as in Fig. 4. When, how-
ever, it came within the region of most distinct
vision, which was very rare, it gave the most
beautiful effect of halo imaginable. It had a
dense black spot in its very center, usually well
rayed; then a light zone limited by an intense
black ring, which in turn produced its own
complete halo. This form is shown in Fig. 5

This mote observation is by no means easy
Professor Douglass has often waited fifteen
minutes for a mote of this type to appear, and
only once has he kept one in sight for any
length of time. It then remained in the center
of vision for at least twenty minutes. Usually
they float past the center of the vision and give
one only a brief view. The size of the pin-
hole used is one-fiftieth of an inch. With a
much larger hole, say one-twentieth of an inch

From The Papuun- Sric,i<f Mjnthly

FIG. 5. 'DOT' MOTE IN FOVEA

The next test with a

FIG. 6. SAME AS FIG. 5,
VIEWED AT CLOSE RAN<}E
Notice different length of rays compared to diameter of ring.

684

CURRENT LITERATURE

they become blurred. By getting near a large
lamp-shade so that a wide angle of light is
viewed, they are best discovered. Then one
may retreat from the light and view them as
illustrated in Figs. 3, 4 and 5.

The rays observed in the central spot are
very interesting. Their length offers a means
of measuring the height of the spot above the
retina. A short calculation upon approximate
data results in 0.002 inch as the distance of the
spot from the retina.

It is true that these mote observations re-
quire great patience, but the beauty of the
phenomena repays the effort. There is a
sharpness about the inner halo around the
spot itself which does not characterize the
ordinary outer halo. For such differences
Professor Douglass has no explanation to
offer. Not only, he says, is the cause of these
details very difficult of detection, but the origin
of the whole halo phenomenon is equally so. It
probably lies in the obscure reactions that
change light waves into nerve impulses.

With reference, now, to the maps of Mars
showing canalization to a most minute extent,
the halo here described, with its light area and
secondary image, accounts for details which, as
has been hinted, have no reality outside the
hallucinations of the astronomical eye, such as
bright limbs of definite width, canals parallel-
ing the limb or dark areas, numerous light
margins along dark areas and light areas in
the midst of dark — abundantly exemplified in
the "map" drawn by the eminent Italian au-
thority on Mars, Schiaparelli, in 1881-82.
When a ribbon-like mark has sufficient width,
it must appear double, for the positive sec-
ondary image of the adjacent light areas will
appear within it. Now the "double canals" of
Schiaparelli and those of other eminent as-
tronomers who have been regarded as "au-
thorities" on Mars are just of this width, and
are due, says Professor Douglass, to the hal-
lucination here described. The halo hallucina-
tion is also responsible for the so-called "mar-
ginal canals."

THE DECISIVE FACTOR IN THE DAILY LIFE OF A

HUMAN BEING

EMPERAMENT is a word that has
fallen into some discredit, notes a
writer in the Revue Scientifique
(Paris), but temperament itself is
the decisive factor in the daily life of every
human being. Heredity counts for much, no
doubt, and environment is very important ; but
heredity and environment together are not so
influential in determining the course of one's
every-day life as is temperament. An illustra-
tion of its potency is seen in the ease with
which a fortune-teller can read the past of a
perfect stranger. Many well-informed persons
are skeptical when clairvoyants claim to be
able to read the past life of an individual. The
too credulous, on the other hand, are amazed
when some fortune-teller states accurately the
record of their lives. The feat is comparative-
ly easy. One needs but to know what a human
being's temperament is — sanguine, lymphatic,
bilious or nervous — in order to read in outline
his or her past. Hence, all impostors of the
successful sort, like Cagliostro, for instance,
studied human temperament carefully. Char-
acter, we are told, is destiny. It would be
more scientific to say that temperament is
destiny.

Something to the same effect is set forth by

Dr. Alfred T. Schofield in his new work on
hygiene.* For practical purposes, he main-
tains, there are only four temperaments, altho
the earlier students of the subject thought the
number much greater. To deny the impor-
tance of temperament in every-day life is, ac-
cording to Dr. Schofield, to blunder egregious-
ly. To say that a person is of a bilious tem-
perament, moreover, does not imply that he is
in any true sense diseased. The bilious tem-
perament may exist in a healthy individual.
Our authority divides temperaments into the
four classes of sanguine, lymphatic, bilious and
nervous. Certain characteristics are sufficient-
ly predominant in each of these temperaments
to distinguish them by. Still, they may exist
in combination. Opposed temperaments, if
united too closely, may lead to divorce, to ri-
valry, to a thousand and one complications in-
explicable upon any other hypothesis. Before
we can estimate any man or woman truly, we
must satisfy ourselves as to his or her tem-
perament.

The sanguine temperament is characterized
by a florid complexion, full and rounded body,
blue or gray eyes and light-brown, auburn, or

•The Home Life in Order. By Alfred T. Schofield.
Funk & Wagfnalls Company.

SCIENCE AND DISCOVERY

685

red hair. The circulation is full and active,
the digestion good, the character hopeful, en-
ergetic and self-confident, full of force in body
and mind, as befits those who have a free cur-
rent of good blood. These people have large
chests, small heads, small veins, good muscles,
vv^hile their actions are energetic and decided.
With regard to exposure to injury, they are
readily affected by sudden changes and con-
tagious diseases, and when attacked the disease
seems to lay a firm hold on them. They are
more liable to acute than to chronic diseases.
They have, therefore, somewhat defective
powers of resistance. The moral disposition
seems also to yield to adverse circumstances,
and the character not to be very stable. The
temper is often very hasty, tho never sulky
and unforgiving. They are volatile in dis-
position, fond of change of work and amuse-
ment. In women this temperament shows its
best qualities. They are loving, devoted and
cheerful in mind; while in body the outline is
rounded, the skin clear and often very fair.
We thus get typical forms of female beauty
among this type. The fact is responsible for
the glaring inaccuracies of popular novelists
who paint sanguine heroines and then make
them act biliously. The distorted ideas of life
imbibed from the works of some women nov-
elists are the result of a fundamental miscon-
ception of temperament.

Temperaments of the lymphatic or phleg-
matic kind are marked by flaxen or sandy hair,
light eyelashes, gray or light-blue eyes, com-
plexion fair, dull or muddy, skin delicate and
freckling readily. The body is heavy, often
ungainly and .ill-proportioned, large joints,
head, hands and feet. The muscles are large,
but the movements are awkward and slow,
owing to want of nervous vigor. Chest and
head are comparatively small. The move-
ments are slow, the passions are evanescent
and soon subside, the intellect being dull. The
circulation being sluggish, the nervous centers
are so, too, for a slow pulse means slow
thought. Nevertheless, there may be firmness,
solidity and soundness of judgment. The
power of resistance to disease is inferior and
the tendency to chronic and particularly to
scrofulous disease is great.

The bilious temperament is the one regard-
ing which the most astonishing popular de-
lusions prevail. Bilious temperaments are
often said to be due to an excess of bile in the
system. There is not the least evidence in
support of that idea. The view that to be
bilious in temperament inclines one to what is
often called biliousness cannot be maintained.

The bilious temperament is in many respects
the opposite of the sanguine. In the bilious
temperament other functions are all more act-
ive than circulation. As a rule, the individuals
are dark. The body is spare, tho it may be
large; the joints large; the figure angular;
the features well defined, but somewhat
coarse; the cheek bones high; the eyes hazel
or brown, sometimes gray ; the lips thick ; the
jaws firm and strong. The body evinces
power and has a strong resisting force against
disease. The mind is firm and often obstinate ;
there is great tenacity of purpose and attach-
ment; devotion is strong, but to few objects.
Judgment is slow, but not easily shaken.
Prejudices are strong. In the female sex the
temperament generally produces firmness of
mind, angularity of frame and hardness of
character, with dark complexion and hair.
There is, however, another variety of bilious
temperament amongst women that almost
forms a special type. In it the face is slight
and more delicate, the hair is smooth, black
and glossy ; the character soft and melancholy.
The figure is never stout. The complexion is
clear olive, sometimes of marble paleness.
The eyes are soft hazel. The temper is docile,
indolent and of unchanging affection and con-
stancy.

In the nervous temperament the nerves and
intellect predominate over the body. The skin
may be dark and earthy or pale or delicately
tinted with pink — in fact, of any shade. It is
often hot and dry. The skull is large in pro-
portion to the face; the muscles spare; the
features small ; the eyes quick, large and lus-
trous; the chest narrow, the circulation lan-
guid; the veins large, the face characterized
by energy and intensity of thought and feel-
ing; the movements hasty, often abrupt or
violent, or else languid. The hands and feet
are small, the frame slender and delicate. Peo-
ple of this type require little sleep, but drink
much tea. They are prone to all nervous dis-
eases. They always seem either to be able to
do more than they are doing or to be doing
more than they are able. The character may
be, on one side, admirable for its powers of
mind or insight and for its lofty imagination ;
while on the other it may be disfigured by
impetuous and unruly passions. To this class
belong the most intellectual of the race, the
wittiest and the cleverest. These are the
poets, the men of letters, the students and the
statesmen. Their great danger consists in un-
controllable passions. They feel pain acutely.
Nevertheless, they can endure long fatigue and
privation better than the sanguine. They form

686

CURRENT LITERATURE

the leaders of mankind. Amongst women this
type is well marked — in real life, that is, not
in the novels of the day, wherein it is too often
caricatured. The nervous temperament in the
female sex shows great delicacy of physical
organization, quickness of imagination and
fervor of emotion. It is a feminine tempera-
ment of the greatest interest and fineness, but
beset with danger for want of a firm control
of its great powers.
• We now begin to see why it is that tempera-
ment is the decisive factor in the every-day life
of the individual. Should suspicion of crime
fall upon any individual, the important thing
to determine first of all is that individual's
temperament. The actions of a man of a bil-
ious temperament are apt to be incomprehen-
sible to a man of lymphatic temperament. The
sanguine official superior may be most unjust
to his nervous type of subordinate. It may be
that an individual combines the characteristics
of two or more temperaments. He can be un-
derstood by a study of those traits — bilious,
lymphatic, sanguine or nervous — which pre-
dominate in him. Each is beset with its own
dangers in the course of life's journey.

The perils of the sanguine temperament in
the course of every-day experience are princi-
pally due to the want of strong powers of re-
sistance. This temperament should not, there-
fore, be exposed to injuries or infections. The
sanguine do well when matters look bright.
For a time they are the best behaved in de-
pressing circumstances. Yet they have not
much staying power. For this they want a
little admixture of the bilious, which is the
strongest and most enduring temperament in
the human race. A combination of the two,
with the sanguine traits dominant, leaves but
little to be desired, as a woman married to a
man of this type ought to know. Such a per-
son gets an easy life, almost proof against dis-
ease. But the lofty heights of imagination and
the depths of sympathy found in the nervous
temperament are missed by the wife of this
sort of man. Thus we have the tragedy upon
which George Meredith bases one of his finest^
fictions — the man with a wife and a friend,
the wife being a woman who is misunderstood,
and the friend being a sort of poet. Life is so
temperamental !

Persons of the lymphatic temperament re-
quire care from childhood. "Mamma's boy"
is generally lymphatic. Lymphatics should
spend the first ten years of life in bracing sea
air. All through life special care is required,
as the temperament is prone to disease. There
is often a gentleness and sweetness in this tem-

perament that duly impress sisters, cousins and
aunts in the family circle. Nor is the delicacy
of constitution wholly evil. It imparts an
ethereal interest to the personality. But if the
lymphatic temperament has inferior resisting
powers compared with the sanguine, it has less
temptation to excess". The sanguine tempera-
ment will often succumb early through a fast
life, when the lymphatic, thanks to the fond
care of those in whom it can inspire affection,
survives to a green old age. The tuberculous
or consumptive type is a variety of the lym-
phatic temperament. It is endowed very often
with the highest type of beauty.

Bilious temperaments require very few cau-
tions against disease. They are able to go
anywhere and do anything, provided they al-
ways get sufficient exercise and keep the liver
in order. Tho strong, they are not necessarily
the most attractive of people. The evangelical
maiden aunt with a strong disapproval of the
tendencies of a sanguine nephew or nervous
niece, is herself most likely to be bilious. The
bilious temperament often predisposes to a cer-
tain hardness of character and want of sym-
pathy with the frailties of the sanguine, the
nervous and the lymphatic, with which the bil-
ious have little in common.

Nervous temperaments are the most attract-
ive of all, but are ever in the doctor's hands.
They have such lofty powers that the strain
upon the physique is constant. Nervous tem-
peraments are instinctively ladies or gentle-
men, simply because they are sensitive. Sen-
sitiveness, as Ruskin has shown, is the essence
of a gentleman. The proud reticence of the
nervous temperament when misunderstood is
to the lymphatic evidence of guilt. In one re-
spect, and in one respect only, do the lym-
phatic, the nervous, the sanguine and the bilious
meet on common ground. They all crave to
be understood. To be misunderstood is agony
to any temperament, yet the torture is in-
flicted every day, because the whole subject is
involved in ignorance, delusion and quackery.
The inability of popular novelists to understand
temperament is Ijest illustrated by the manage-
ment of what the critics call "situations." It
is a demonstrable fact that a nervous tempera-
ment in a female, reacting from a lymphatic
temperament in a male, will act, in a given set
of circumstances, most erratically. Under the
influence of a sanguine male temperament the
nervous female temperament is stimulated in-
tellectually. What the unscientific novelist is
so fond of referring to as "the eternal struggle
of sex" turns out, as often as not, to be some
conflict of temperament with temperament.

Recent Poetry

^lOTHING is more important," said
James Bryce, the British ambassador,
in a recent interview, "than that each
generation and each land should have
its own poets. Each oncoming tide of life, each
age, requires and needs men of lofty thought who
shall dream and sing for it, who shall gather up
its tendencies and formulate its ideals and voice
its spirit, proclaiming its duties and awakening its
enthusiasm, through the high authority of the
poet and the art of his verse."

Mr. Bryce, according to Andrew Carnegie,
knows more than any other man on the earth to-
day ; but he never uttered a truer word than that
just quoted. We will supplement it with another
equally true and equally important, namely, that
for each land and each generation to have its own
poets it is necessary that it read and learn to ap-
preciate good poetry. With some of us such ap-
preciation comes naturally. With others of us it
must be acquired, just as the love of good music
or the taste for good painting is acquired. There is
but one way to acquire any of these, and that is
by way of familiarity. It is just as much one's
duty to cultivate the taste for poetry as to culti-
vate one's taste for any other art. A reader of
Current Literature, himself an editor, recently
remarked that this department makes him feel
each month that there is a real renaissance of
poetry. We are not ready to say that there is
such a renaissance; but we are ready to say that
what is most needed to create one is the appre-
ciative reading of poetry. In America, in our
judgment, the creative impulse requires but slight
popular encouragement to burst forth into a true
renaissance.

In a new volume of verse by Arthur Davison
Ficke (Small, Maynard & Company), we find
much poetic atmosphere, but the precipitation is
more like a Scotch mist than a shower of rain,
and one finds somewhat the same difficulty in
selecting poems meet for quotation that would
be found in trying to catch a bucket full of the
mist. The following poem, however, has definite-
ness and completeness, and is none the worse for
reminding us of Keats's Ode to a Grecian Urn :

ON A PERSIAN TILE
By Arthur Davison Ficke
Where would you ride, O knight so bold.

Decked in your youth's glad panoply?
In robe of rose with thread of gold.

As for some gallant holiday?
Do you not know that long of old
Your Shah's great pageant moved away?

And still you ride your prancing steed.
And still your laughing eyes are bright.

Is it because you have small need
Of aught save of your own delight

That you remain while empires bleed
And turn to shadows down the night?

I love you and I know not why.

I have passed by the loftier face
Of a king, stern in majesty.

And of a poet. To your place
I come. You only could not die.

But ride and ride with old-time grace.

And it avails not that I tell
To you how all your pomps are fled;

That lovely eyes you loved so well

Long since have joined the weary dead;

How all your lords and princes fell
And over them the flowers are shed.

0 laughter in the face of Time,

O you who linger down the years.
Eternal in your eager prime.
Lord of mortality's dim fears, —

1 wonder does your heart not pine
Sometimes for boon of human tears?

Would you not wish, if wish you could.
That there might sometime come a day

When you could doff your merry mood
And weep a little for the clay

To which has turned your princes' blood,
To which your ladies stole away?

Another volume of verse, whose author is Mil-
dred I. McNeal-Sweeney, and whose publisher is
Robert Grier Cooke, is open to the same criticism
as that just made of Mr. Ficke's work. Its poems
lack the touch of finality, while the poetical spirit
and impulse are evident on every page. The fol-
lowing is exceptionally good:

THE WEAVING OF THE FAN

By Mildred I. McNeal-Sweeney

Oh, the wind on the marshy shallows.
Tossing, trembling, dancing, dying!
Oh, the sun on the April fallows.
Shining, shimmering, faltering, flying!

Oh, the call of the zvild sea plover
Come a thousand of windy miles!
Oh, the glee zvhen the geese Ay over.
Shrill and stormy in long deiiles!

Out in the sun on the billowy prairie
Toils the maiden, the dusky-skinned
Daughter of sagamores, humble, merry.
Her black hair blown in the rushing wind.

Toils untired when the noons are mellow.
And bravely toils when the winds are chill,
Up to her knees in the rippling yellow
Over running valley and plain and hill.

688

CURRENT LITERATURE

And with the coming of night she passes
Home to the villages, wearily,
Bent with her burden of fragrant grasses
And yellow starwort and barberry.

And oh, the twilight is wild and lonely!
Never a camp-fire among the pines —
Never a light in the open — only
A gleam in the west where the first star
shines, —

And the distant drone of the water falling

By cliff and chasm and wild recess,

And the short, strange note of the night bird

calling
Its old perpetual loneliness.

All day and patiently they sit weaving —
Meek dark maiden and withered dame,
Intent and diligent, never leaving
The bright hay piled at the drying frame.

And the sweet of the northern summer lingers
In every corner and plait and fold
Slipping from under the flying fingers
In lustrous veinings of green and gold.

If one be comely and happy spoken
They seat her out by the cool green wares —
Fan and snowshoe and wampum token
And moccasins fine as a princess wears.

And there she dreams of her idle lover
Or new-wed husband, or softly croons
To the black-eyed baby she watches over
The little store of her Indian tunes —

And bends her meek head and serves with

smiling
The tall, fair lords of her ancient lands,
And counts their generous silver, piling
Coin by coin in her dusky hands.

Oh, the call of the mid sea plover.
Come a thousand of windy miles!
Oh, the glee when the geese fiy over.
Shrill and stormy in long defiles!

Oh, the moan of the great gray river.
Over its burden of savage deeds!
Oh, the sigh zvhen the ripples quiver.
Troubling dully among the reeds!

Camping now by the great sweet water,
Now where the Ottawa laughed and ran,
How her proud tribe would flout their daughter
For weaving of basket and belt and fan.

Lost from her eyes is their old, wild longing
For camp and carnage and all the dire
Paint and hate of the young braves thronging
Forth to war from the council fire!

Forgotten the dances, the shouts, the drumming
In furious triumph o'er them they slew^
Forgotten the joy of the hunt's home-coming
And the glad, straight flight of the swift canoe !

Strange tall ships on the great gray river!
Strange new boasting of worthy deeds;
But still the sigh zuhere the ripl^les quiver
Wondering dully among the reeds!

And always the moan in the wildernesses —
Afar — at dusk — as for something lost! —
Always the sighing in grassy places
For the swift, dark march of the Indian host!

The following poem is going the round of the
newspapers, quoted, without the name of the
author, from the Kansas City Journal. It is an-
other instance of the constant appearance of ex-
cellent poetry far from the haunts of the mag-
azine publishers :

THE SANTA FE TRAIL

The trail is nearly lost. Alas !
Amid the wheat and corn and grass
And fields by hedge divided.
The hand of greed across it runs
And sweeps away the mark that once
The settler's wagon guided.

It plowed a furrow wide and deep
In Little river's winding steep
Down where the stream was forded.
Not far away is Stone Corral
Whose ruins many a tale can tell
Of history unrecorded.

It passed before our cabin door.
Then onward to the west it bore
O'er plain and hill and mesa ;
Around the bare and rocky steep,
Into the canyon dark and deep
By lonely Camp Theresa.

O'er cactus field and withered sage
Where fiercely blinding blizzards rage
Its course is rougher, bleaker,
The whitening bones around it gleam,
It tells of many a shattered dream
And dying fortune-seeker.

To us, poor exiles on the plain,
It was the one connecting chain
With Eastern friends and kindred ;
With longing eyes we saw the track
And gladly would have wandered back.
But stern-faced duty hindered.

The oxen botmd for Santa Fe
Came patiently upon their way
With wagons heavy freighted;
They passed the cabin poor and lone
And broke the dreary monotone
Of those who toiled and waited.

The Indian swept upon his raid
And yonder where the bison strayed
We saw the blizzards hover.
Sometimes a schooner hurried by
With little children gathered shy
Beneath the wagon cover.

The sunburnt one who held the reins

Looked eagerly upon the plains,

A mystery round them clinging;

They stretched around him parched and hot,

Without a single garden spot

Wherein a bird was singing.

That land of buffalo grass and sage
Unconquered lay for many an age
And now refused surrender.

RECENT POETRY

689

But O! the men with plow and hoe —
They won — see how the prairies grow,
The fields of richest splendor.

How beautiful the future gleams;
Gone is the time of great extremes;
The crops are springing greenly.
No scorching wind, no wilderness.
The church among the cottages
* Points heavenward serenely.

O deep worn Trail of Santa Fe!
You speak of those who passed away
Without the glorious vision;
Who shared the suffering and the toil,
The noon-day heat and ceaseless moil,
But never the fruition.

Tell of the victories they won,
The heroes who are dead or gone,
Tell of the hard privations.
As soft and low as vesper chimes
Tell of the early Kansas times
To coming generations.

We have seen very little in the last few months
from the pen of Henry Newbolt. The Spectator
(London) now gives us an April poem from his
hand that is well worth publishing even in June :

THE ADVENTURERS

By Henry Newbolt

Over the downs in sunlight clear
Forth we went in the spring of the year:
Plunder of April's gold we sought.
Little of April's anger thought.

Caught in a copse without defense
Low we crouched to the rain-squall dense:
Sure, if misery man can vex.
There it beat on our bended necks.

Yet when again we wander on
Suddenly all that gloom is gone :
Under and over, through the wooa.
Life is astir, and life is good.

Violets purple, violets white,
Delicate windflowers dancing light,
Primrose, mercury, muscatel.
Shimmer in diamonds round the dell.

Squirrel is climbing swift and lithe.
Chiff-chaff whetting his airy scythe.
Woodpecker whirrs his ratthng rap.
Ringdove flies with a sudden clap.

Rook is summoning rook to build,
Dunnock his beak with moss has filled,
Robin is bowing in coat-tails brown.
Tomtit chattering upside down.

Well is it seen that every one
Laughs at the rain and loves the sun;
We, too, laughed with the wildwood crew.
Laughed till the sky once more was blue.

Homeward over the downs we went
Soaked to the heart with sweet content;
April's anger is swift to fall,
April's wonder is worth it all. _,

A new and very good translation of a famous
little poem by Sully Prudhomme appears in
Transatlantic Tales. The name of the translator
does not appear :

THE BROKEN VASE
By Sully Prudhomme

The vase in which this flower died
Was cracked by just a gentle tap

From someone's fan, who brushed beside;
No sound betrayed the slight mishap.

The little wound, past hope of cure.

Eating the crystal day by day,
Invisible and still and sure,

Around the bowl has made its way.

And, one by one, to shrink and dry.
The ebbing drops the flower forsake;

And no one knows the reason why;
But touch it not, or it will break!

Sometimes the hand that most is dear
Will touch the heart in careless wise;

The small wound widens year on year.
And love's rare flower droops and dies.

Still fair and whole to stranger gaze,

It feels within it burn and wake
The thin, deep wound that inly preys;

Oh, touch it not, or it will break!

The death of Mr. Aldrich has called forth sev-
eral poetic tributes, but nothing that we have seen
that is superior to this in The Atlantic:

THE SHADOW ON THE FLOWER
By Edith M. Thomas

"I regard death as nothing but the passing of
the shadow on the flower." — T. B. Aldrich.

When those who have loved Power depart
From out a world of toil and stress.

Somewhere is easing of the heart.
Somewhere a load grows less.

When those who have loved Beauty die,
Who with her praise the world did bless.

Around the earth there runs a sigh
Of tender loneliness.

Thou, latest-silenced of her choir !

Hark to that long, long sigh, to-day:
The sunlight is a faded fire,

Since thou art gone away!

Since thou art gone — where none may find —
Where Beauty knows no wavering hour.

Where is no blighting from the wind.
No Shadow on the Flower.

Thy mystic, floating, farewell word —

Oh, was it breathed in antiphon
To vatic strains thy spirit heard

From all thy brothers gone!

Another poet who has left us for the fuller life
is William Henry Drummond, of Ontario. His

690

CURRENT LITERATURE

dialect verse of French-Canadian life is fairly
familiar to American readers, for its popularity,
in spite of the unfamiliar patois, has been very
marked on both sides of the Great Lakes. Dr.
Drummond was not a Canadian by birth. He was
born in Ireland, and spent only about half his
life in North America, practicing his profession
as a physician in Montreal among the Highland
Scotch, and getting the spirit and local color of
his verse from occasional visits to lumber camps
and from hunting tours. He was at one time the
champion three-mile runner of Canada. The lat-
est of his four volumes of poetry is "The Voy-
ageur and Other Poems" (Putnam's), published
two years ago. Its title-poem seems to us about
the best thing he has done, tho there are many
other of his poems equally popular.

THE VOYAGEUR
By William Henry Drummond

Dere's somet'ing stirrin' ma blood to-night,
On de night of de young new year,

Wile de camp is warm an' de fire is bright.
An' de bottle is close at han' —

Out on de reever de nort' wind blow,

Down on de valley is pile de snow.

But w'at do we care so long we know
We're safe on de log cabane?

Drink to de healt' of your wife an' girl,

Anoder wan for your frien',
Den geev' me a chance, for on all de worl'

I've not many frien' to spare —
I'm born w'ere de mountain scrape de sky.
An' bone of ma fader an' moder lie.
So I fill de glass an' I raise it high

An' drink to de Voyageur.

For dis is de night of de jour de I'an',*
W'en de man of de Grand Nor' Wes'
T'ink of hees home on de St. Laurent,

An' frien' he may never see —
Gone he is now, an' de beeg canoe
No more you'll see wit' de red-shirt crew,
But long as he leev' he was alway true.
So we'll drink to hees memory.

Ax' heem de nort' win' w'at he see

Of de Voyageur long ago.
An' he'll say to you w'at he say to me.

So lissen hees story well —
"I see de track of hees botte sau-vage"
On many a hill and long portage
Far, far away from hees own vill-age

An' soun' of de parish bell —

"I never can play on de Hudson Bay

Or Mountain dat lie between
But I meet heem singin' hees lonely way

De happies' man I know —
I cool hees face as he's sleepir^' dere
Under de star of de Red Riviere,
♦An' off on de home of de great w'ite bear,

I'm seein' hees dog traineau.'

'New Year's Day.
*Indian boot.
*Dog-8leigh.

"De woman an' chil'ren's runnin' out

On de wigwam of de Cree —
De Leetle papoose dey laugh an' shout

W'en de soun' of hees voice dey hear —
De oldes' warrior of de Sioux
Kill hese'f dancin' de w'ole night t'roo.
An' de Blackfoot girl remember, too,

De ole tarn Voyageur.

"De blaze of hees camp on de snow I see, '

An' I lissen hees 'En Roulant'
On de Ian' w'ere de reindeer travel free,

Ringin' out strong an' clear —
Offen de gray wolf sit before
De light is come from hees open door.
An' caribou foller along de shore

De song of de Voyageur.

"If he only kip goin', de red ceinture*

I'd see it upon de Pole
Some mornin' I'm startin' upon de tour

For blowin' de worl' aroun' —
But w'erever he sail an' w'erever he ride,
De trail is long an' de trail is wide,
An' city an' town on ev'ry side

Can tell of hees campin' groun'.

"So dat's de reason I drink to-night

To de man of de Grand Nor' Wes',
For hees heart was young, an' hees heart was
light
So long as he's, leevin' dere —
I'm proud of de sam' blood in my vein
I'm a son of de Ngrt' Win' wance again —
So we'll fill her up till de bottle's drain
An' drink to de Voyageur."

Another of Doctor Drummond's poems with
the universal note as well as the local color is
the following:

THE FAMILY LARAMIE
By William Henry Drummond

Hssh! look at ba-bee on de leetle blue chair,

W'at you t'ink he's tryin' to do?
Wit' pole on de han' lak de lumberman,

A-shovin' along canoe.
Dere's purty strong current behin' de stove.

Were it's passin' de chimley-stone.
But he'll come roun' yet, if he don't upset.

So long he was lef alone.

Dat's way ev'ry boy on de house begin

No sooner he's twelve mont' ole ;
He'll play canoe up an' down de Soo

An' paddle an' push de pole,
Den haul de log all about de place.

Till dey're fillin' up mos' de room,
An' say it's all right, for de storm las' night

Was carry away de boom.

Mebbe you see heem, de young loon bird.

Wit' half of de shell hangin' on,
Tak' hees firse slide to de water side.

An' off on de lake he's gone.
Out of de cradle dey're goin' sam' way

On reever an' lake an' sea;
For born to de trade, dat's how dey're made

De familee Laramie.

^Canadian sash.

RECENT POETRY

691

An' de reever she's lyin' so handy dere

On foot of de hill below,
Dancin' along an' singin' de song.

As away to de sea she go,
No wonder I never can lak dat song.

For soon it is comin', w'en
Dey'U lissen de call, leetle Pierre an' Paul,

An' w'ere will de moder be den ?

She'll sit by de shore w'en de evenin's come,

An' spik to de reever, too :
"O reever, you know how dey love you so.

Since ever dey' re seein' you,
P'or de sake of dat love, bring de leetle boy home

Once more to de moder's knee."
An* mebbe de prayer I be makin' dere

Will help bring dem back to me.

A little paper-bound booklet that merits some
attention is Justin Sterns's "The Song of the
Boy." In it, after the Boy speaks. Death speaks,
and Conscience speaks, and the World speaks,
and the Flesh speaks, the Boy replying. Finally
Love speaks and the Boy, answering, acknow-
ledges that Love, untainted with sin, is the Master
Joy of the world. We reprint the first part of the
sequence :

THE SONG OF THE BOY

By Justin Sterns

Oh ! ■ The joy of being alive !
To be sound of body and brain,
With pulses that leap to strive.
And muscles that crave the difficult feat.
To battle with wind and ram,
To struggle with snow and sleet.
In the tumbling surf to meet
That strongest foe of man, the sea.
To feel her tug at the feet.
And buffet the face with a heavy hand ;
To measure strength with her brainless strength.
And in spite of her might to stand
Or leap or swim at the will's command.
Oh ! Life is sweet!

Oh! The joy of the body's might!
To feel the muscles play
As you writhe and bend and sway
In the grip of the wrestler's arms.
To dart and whirl ^all day,
Like a great, swift bird of prey.
O'er the ice's smooth, black glare.
To lave the body where
The still pool summons to plunge and sink
And rise from the dive to plunge again.
To feel the lithe oars bend at the pull
And the boat spring on like a thing alive.
To climb, till the clouds are left behind,
Thro' the perilous places that none should strive
To behold but he of the sturdy limb.
The steady hand and the dauntless mind.
Oh ! Life is sweet!

Oh! The joy of the measured strength!

To run with the fleet and leap with the supple,

And strive with the strong.

To struggle with friendly foes, and to know at

length,
By measuring strength with strength,
Where you stand as a man among men.

To reach with body and soul
For the wreath of bays, and then
To rejoice that the best man wins, ♦
Tho another be first at the goal.
Oh! Life is sweet!

Oh! The joy of the senses that throb and thrill!

Each one perfect, but best the delight

Of the glorious gift of sight.

To revel at will thro' the wonderful world that
lies

Ever in reach of the restless eyes

That never can drink their fill.

To feel the beauty that crowds so thick it be-
wilders the brain.

Beauty of sky and wood and sea.

Of flooding sunshine and flooding rain.

The marvel of Life that crawls in the worm.

That gleams in the jewel and blooms in the tree;

But best, the beauty of this fair sheath

Of rose-flushed, supple flesh.

That holds the soul in a mesh, —

The master-beauty, unmatched since time began.

Lo ! The world is drenched in loveliness, around,
above, beneath.

An endless joy is the gift of sight to man.
Oh ! Life is sweet !

Oh! The joy of the ardent brain!

To lie prone under the trees

Alone with the treasured lore of the ages of yore.

To ponder what old Greek slaves and kings

Uttered, that still lives on.

To fly with Mercury's wings.

To joy with the joy and ache with the pain

Of all the lovers that went before.

To garner the wisdom of poet and sage.

To muse on the great who have written their

page.
To dream of the future. A moment, no more.
For the future is still on the way,
And Life is to-day,
And sweet!

Oh ! The joy of intimate speech !

The delight of the eager delve after Truth

With friendly maiden or youth ;

Of the quick response of awakening minds

Answering each to each.

To know you are not alone

In the midst of the alien crowd.

That a kindred soul is beside you there.

To know you may think the innermost thoughts

aloud
With the freedom born of being aware
The soul of your comrade is kin to your own.
Oh ! Life is sweet !

For behold ! There is ever the joy of the in-
drawn breath.

And the joy of the surging blood that pulses so
quick

It is hard to believe in death.

There is ever the joy of the senses' throb and
thrill,

And the joy of the supple muscles that stiffen and
strain.

Till, having wrought and achieved, they rest
again.

These are the joys that fill.
Yea, Life is sweet !

Recent Fiction and the Critics

THE TURN
OF THE
BALANCE

RSgiPRAND WHITLOCK, Mayor of Tole-
nil';5 do, whose first novel, "The Thirteenth
District," has been described by two
presidents as the best political story
ever written, presents in his new book* a ter-
rific indictment of our judicial system. It is a
picture of the savage cruelty that
is still able to deny our civiliza-
tion, an arraignment that, in the
opinion of The Argonaut, ought
to bite deeply and with a dreary persistence into
the conscience of the nation. It is one of the
books which, as The North American Reviexv re-
marks editorially, are a public event.

The wretched hero of the book, if there can
be said to be a hero, is Archie Schroeder. He has
served with some distinction in the Philippines,
and has returned home just after his father has
been taken to the hospital to have his leg ampu-
tated. The Argonaut's view of the hero is as fol-
lows:

"Archie is a young man who is not overbur-
dened with moral will-power and who is handi-
capped in civil life by his military employment. He
might have been a good citizen if the laws had
allowed him, but the law, after its manner and
after it once had its grip upon him, proceeded to
damn him body and soul, never relaxing its perse-
cution until hope and life were lost. Archie commits
some slight misdemeanor, or what has the same
effect, is accused of doing so, and is sentenced to
a few weeks in the workhouse. That is the begin-
ning of the end for him, as the law would see to it
that there should be no return on the declivity
upon which he had started. . . .

"There is small chance of honest work for the
man who has once stepped aside. Employers have
a prejudice against the sinner — that is to say, the
convicted sinner — and the police take good care
that for such there shall be no oblivion. Archie
of course drifts inevitably into bad company, and
consorts with the only society open to him — that
of thieves, burglars and hoboes. Incidentally we
have a view of the respectable fence, the God-fear-
ing merchant who adds to his profits by receiving
a little stolen property and varies benevolence with
felony."

After Archie finishes his thirty days in the
workhouse, he finds himself in debt to the state
for costs. As he has no money to pay the debt,
he is kept in prison for ten days longer, altho it
is against the law in that state to imprison a
man for debt. Of course, Archie gets into
trouble again.

His further career is one of crime, tho he is

•The Turn of the Ballance. By Brand Whitlock.
Bobbs-Merrill Company.

never as blamable as the judges seem to imagine.
In the end we see tortures in prison such as we
usually associate with the Spanish Inquisition, and
last of all the electric chair. The author, one critic
remarks, is "obviously trying to keep strictly
in the facts, and the absence of all passion in the
narration, the almost deadly monotony of his ter-
rible recitals give them all an air of actuality."

Interwoven with this arraignment of crying so-
cial and economic evils is a love-story. The hero-
ine of this love-story is Elizabeth Ware, an
heiress, and this part of the story ends happily.

The novel raises in the mind of a writer in the
Springfield Republican the question whether we
cannot discern in the light of recent fiction the
growth in America of a "naturalistic" school.
He recounts a number of novels that fall under
this classification, among these "The Cliff Dwell-
ers," by Henry B. Fuller; "Rose of Dutcher's
Cooly," by Hamlin Garland; "McTeague," by
Frank Norris; "Sister Carrie," by Thomas
Dreiser; "The Long Straight Road," by George
Horton ; "The Unwritten Law," by Arthur Henry ;
"The Jungle," by Upton Sinclair; "An Eye for
an Eye," by Clarence S. Darrow.

While a number of novelists in this group have
turned to Zola for inspiration, Mr. Whitlock, we
are told, has come under the spell of Count Tol-
stoy. This naturalism seems to be destined to
play an important part in American fiction. The
same writer says on this point:

"It is for one thing, an instrument of extraor-
dinary potency, precisely because it eliminates
so sternly all merely literary graces, keeps the
writer to a hard program of facts. By following
it fearlessly, untiringly, a writer of moderate
ability and large industry, if thoroly in earnest,
really saturated with his subject, may hope to
achieve a result out of all proportion to his in-
dividual powers. In the best of the novels named
there is an effect of mastery, of literary compe-
tence which must be ascribed in part to the ener-
getic use of a simple and efficient tool ; some of
the same writers, trusting in other books to their
own resources — to specify would be unkind — have
shown how little their personal art has to do with
it. No formula, of course, can insure master-
pieces, but it is arguable that the strictly realistic
method offers a larger opportunity than any other
to the writer who possesses only moderate literary
gifts, but who has in a high degree intelligence,
earnestness and industry. It reduces to a mini-
mum the play of chance and makes for cumulative
effect for the 'big' thing."

The author of "The Turn of the Balance" piles
horror on horror, but the book has nothing of the
European frankness in sexual matters. This limi-

RECENT FICTION AND THE CRITICS

693

tation is regarded a defect in a novel dealing with
the criminal classes. With the crimes against
property, Mr. Whitlock deals with sufficient cour-
age; but he passes over the vice which is the
seed-bed of crime, and his account of the matter
is to that extent incomplete. The method and
the spirit of Whitlock's treatment are those of
the later Tolstoy, that is to say, his purpose is
ethical rather than artistic. Mr. Whitlock, The
Republican's reviewer thinks, has raised many
more questions than he has answered.

"He has shown the festering sores of society;
he has pointed out no cure for them. He has not
explicitly, at least, accepted the full creed of Tol-
stoy, yet his elaborate and studied satire of things
as they are can hardly be justified on any other
basis. Here is the weak point in a novel of re-
markable solidity; it is not like 'Resurrection,'
the outgrowth of a profound spiritual experience
and a morbid fanaticism. It expresses merely a
conviction of the failure of justice, and the mode
of expression is disproportionate ; it gives a sense
of pose, of imitation."

The negative character of Whitlock's message
is also dwelt upon in The Independent, which,
nevertheless, classes "The Turn of the Balance"
with "Uncle Tom's Cabin," with Charles Dick-
ens's novels of protest, with "Les Miserables,"
with Daudet's and Zola's works and with "The
Jungle." The Chicago Public finds the posi-
tive note of Mr. Whitlock's book in love and
human sympathy. The North American Reviezv
indicates why the author's answer to the questions
raised by himself is not positively stated. It says :

"The book is another answer to the question
which has been repeating itself from age to age
in some form ever since one man first put him-
self in another's place. Revolutions seem to
answer it; reactions seem to answer it; elections
seem to answer it; revivals of religion seem to
answer it. But the old unanswered stupid misery,
which seems so remediable, still asks to be reme-
died; and in some kind, always, some one is try-
ing to answer it. The Mayor of Toledo is the
latest to make the attempt. But perhaps there is
something mystical in the misery always crying
to us which forbids him to be categorical in his
reply."

"Clever" is the word which, in the opinion of a

writer in The Atlantic Monthly, best designates

Mrs. Wharton's art. This element

MADAME DE is Strongly present in her latest

TREYMES novelette; also, it must be said,

something of the apparent heart-

lessTiess that invariably accompanies the analytic

temperament. The book itself is described by the

same reviewer as "worthy of Henry James in a

most lucid interval;" and its pathos, he in-

•Madame de Tbeymes. By Cdith Wharton. Charles
Scribner's Sons.

forms us, "is something unique in the pre-
sentation of the slavery of woman to sin and
misery all for the family's sake. "Madame de
Treymes," the writer continues, "is contempti-
ble, and yet appeals with something of hopelessness
in her apparently thought-out wickedness. She
is false and coldly wicked, mercenary and merci-
less, but she is a woman crushed by the family
convention, and through one's feeling of revulsion
from her there creeps a little pang of sympathy."
Unlike "The House of Mirth," which broadly de-
picts the entire social system, "Madame de Trey-
mes," as one critic puts it, deals only with a
single phase of a question seen from afar — the
myriad coils and entanglements of international
marriage.

It is the story of an American girl who mar-
ries an aristocratic Parisian and has reason to
repent the bargain. The idea, as the San Fran-
cisco Argonaut points out, is not a new one, and
material from actual life is unfortunately abund-
ant enough. Disclosures and divorce scandals
have, however, made us familiar only with the
grosser causes that imderlie the domestic in-
felicity of American wives and French husbands.
"But," The Argonaut asks, "how many suspect
that the radical incompatibilities' of such ill-
assorted matches lie far deeper than the definite
offenses that are legally urged as the culmina-
tion of a misery inevitable . from differences in
national conception of the home and family?" It
is into these fundamental causes that Mrs. Whar-
ton's keen analysis penetrates.

Mr. Percival Pollard is of the opinion that Mrs.
Wharton exaggerates. He says in Town Topics:

"It is an effort, this story, to contrast the
American temper with the social temper of the
old fashionable Faubourg St. Germain of Paris.
The independence of our side of the water is
contrasted with the formality of the other; and
we are shown, as well, at least, as this author
can show it, the race pride and prejudice that
orders all things over in that other world.
Marriage is not between individuals there; it
cements families. Nor yet is divorce — and that
is actually the question in this story — merely a
dissonance of two; what the family does, what
the family wills — those are the things to be re-
garded, not the rights of the mere individual.
An American man of fine average sense and ex-
perience wishes to marry a compatriot who hap-
pens to have grounds for divorce against her hus-
band, a marquis of France. But his family insists
on refusing the divorce — unless the wife gives up
her child. Durham, the victim of this imbroglio,
is led on, by the sister of the husband — by Mad-
ame de Treymes [the real heroine of the book],
in short — to believe that the family will, after
all, consent ; only to be told by her in the end that
such consent means they will claim the child.
The woman he loves, Fanny de Malrive, had al-
ready told him she would not marry him unless
that meant no sacrifice of her child. So the story

694

CURRENT LITERATURE

ends with Durham taking the news from the
emissary of the great Faubourg family, and pre-
paring to tell the woman he loves that they are
both trapped, whereon, we are given to under-
stand, she will tell him they must give each other
up."

Mrs. Wharton, the writer thinks, out-Parises
Paris, and the story should have a different end-
ing. Mr. Pollard forgets that the story itself
is of slight interest to Mrs. Wharton, who lav-
ishes all the resources of her art upon the sister-
in-law, Madame de Treymes, that strangely
twisted product of a false and artificial environ-
men, and portrays in her with superb technique
a mentality of a stamp entirely alien from our
own. The question whether the young American
will finally overcome all obstacles, which Mrs.
Wharton leaves undecided is not pertinent in the
least. She is satisfied in placing before us a
picture wrought with delicate artistry, and is
content to leave the final solution of the problem
in the hands of fate and the imagination of the
reader. For, as we have been reminded, Mrs-.
Wharton is clever and she is cold.

are his servants. He is a man of character and
strength of mind, a free-thinker in religion and
all other problems of this and the future life. He
is not a scoundrelly seducer who leads a woman
astray. The woman loves her husband, but she
seems dominated by a higher power, and further-
more her intrigue with Woodrow means world
advancement and prosperity. The husband is a
childlike giant who is utterly unsuspicious. He
knows that his wife visits Woodrow, but he trusts
her implicitly, and five years pass by without
trouble. Then the jealousy of a discarded suitor
brings everything to light. Woodrow is dying,
Brendon reaches him just too late to wreak his
vengeance upon him, and the wife forestalls her
certain doom at her husband's hands by taking
her own life.

"In all this tragic tale, the most persistent note
is its paganism. The question of right and wrong
is thrown utterly aside by Mr. Philpotts. He tells
the tale as by one standing on the outside. We
see each character from his or her own point of
view. The man who takes away another's wife
is not presented in the conventional light. He ap-
pears as an upright man swayed by his beliefs, his
emotions and his passions. The wife who be-
trays her husband has no conception of the sin
she commits. She too is in the hands of destiny.
Fate alone is responsible."

Mr. Philpotts's new novel* is another story of

the "good red earth." "The author loves his

Dartmoor, he has chosen to abide

THE by it, and therefore, says The

WHIRLWIND Athenaeum, "by Dartmoor he
stands and falls." Mr. Philpotts, re-
marks the same authority, has come to be recog-
nized as a writer with a sense of the underlying
tragedy of life. "His irony is in a manner
Sophoclean, and he is fond of dealing with pri-
mary emotions and with simple psychological
problems." While the author frequently runs the
risk of falling into melodrama, he keeps himself
out of this pit by the artistry and the dignity of
his handling. "In playing with heroic issues," the
writer concludes, "he never descends to bathos,
and the conclusion satisfies poetic justice, if it
wrings the tender heart." In the opinion of the
London Times, however, Mr. Philpotts has failed
as a tragic novelist and "The Whirlwind" is to be
read like Tolstoy's "Anna Karenina," not for its
catastrophe, but for its account of ordinary men
and women and quiet incident.

The story of the book is summarized in the Bos-
ton Transcript as follows :

" 'The Whirlwind' is practically a modernizing
of the Biblical tale of David and Uriah's wife and
Uriah himself. The David is Hilary Woodrow,
the Uriah is Daniel Brendon, the wife of Uriah
is Sarah Jane Brendon. Woodrow is the master
of a Dartmoor farm, and the husband and wife

•The Whirlwind. By Eden Philpotts. McQure, Phil-
lips & Company.

The Academy remarks of the novel that in it
Mr. Philpotts is at his best. "His standard is a
high one. His method conceived on a large
scale." To quote further:

"It is no other than to bring all the aspects of
nature — the changing sky, with its range of colors,
the wind that blows across his Devon moors, the
trees, the flowers, the animals, all the denizens of
Earth — into league with him in telling one great
story of passion or love or disaster. His human
characters emerge from this great background:
first you see the village of Lydford nestling
quietly in a nook of the wide moor — then the
farmhouse Ruddyford and the old peat mine,
the place in which his chief characters live, and
gradually the chief characters themselves stand
out from their fellow villagers and over them
something of the eternal greatness of things is
thrown, something which comes from the great-
ness of their setting. In the carrying out of this
conception he brings great skill to bear. But the
result is not on the level of the intention. If it
were so, Mr. Philpotts' work would take a high
place in English literature, a place above that of
Thomas Hardy."

But, the reviewer continues, there is something
lacking; there is an element of disappointment,
for "tho his descriptions of natural scenery and
events are vivid and at times beautiful, tho his
grip on his characters never relaxes and their
doings are always interesting, yet the two are
never molded into shape by a view of things the
scope of which is* sufficiently wide to present one
all-embracing outlook." The final tragedy lacks
inevitability and that lack lends to it a be-
littling element of sordidness. It is the function

THE DREAM-KNIGHT— BY MAARTEN MA ART ENS

695

of great art "to transform brutal facts, and by its
magic raise them above themselves, to show "that
which lies beyond every fact, and the beauty
which is part of all suffering." This transforming
touch, we are told, is absent from "The Whirl-

wind," as it is absent from all Mr. Philpotts's
work, and its absence prevents his work rising to
the high place which the excellence of his actual
writing, his knowledge of humanity, and his love
of Nature, would otherwise command.

The Dream-Knight — By Maarten Maartens

This story, by the most eminent of Holland's living writers, is one of the series contained in
his new-published volume entitled "The Woman's Victory and Other Stories" (D. Appleton &
Company). It gains an adventitious interest just now (tho it requires none) from the author's
recent visit to this country to participate in the National Peace Conference and in the dedicatory
services of the Carnegie Institute. Mr. Van der Poorten-Schwartz (Maartens is a pen-name) is
also one of Holland's delegates to The Hague Conference this month.

l^AREST — listen close — I want to tell
you a story !"

Her head was thrown back, along
the lounge, with her whole figure ; the
fingers of her left hand were at her temples, push-
ing aside the yellow curls. Her blue eyes were
upon me.

Oh, little yellow curl against the ear-lobe ! Oh,
little yellow curl ! I bent forward and kissed it.
She let me kiss.

"Hush!" she said. "Not to-night. Try to for-
get."

"What?"

"That you love me. Oh, Maarten, don't!" She
had sprung up ; she was far from me, on the bal-
cony, overhanging the lake, a white vision against
the blueness of the deep Italian night. I waited a
moment, then I went after her. She motioned me
away. "I want to tell you my story," she said, in
a tone that was almost a gasp. "Don't make it
impossible. Help me. Let me alone."

I stood silent in the window. When a woman
speaks to a man, it is her voice he must go by,
not what she says.

The night was lovely beyond endurance. In the
far, far distance a dozen bells were tinkling; a
dozen lights were moving across the water. The
air was full of entrancing scents. Down below,
somewhere among the laurels, a man's voice rose
and fell, softly, in solitary song.

She stood against the massive parapet; a flimsy
whiteness hung about her breast and arms. I saw
that the breast was heaving.

"Do you believe that we live again after death ?"
she said suddenly. "Mind how you answer. It
all depends on that. I know you say you do. We
all say. But do you mean it? — tell me. If you
think not — if you are a — what do they call it? —
an agnostic, tell mc honestly, tho you have never
told me before !"

"Dearest " I began, but she did not allow

me to continue. She turned upon me : her vehe-
mence was extraordinary :

"We have been married seven years, and I
know, of course, all you say, and think, and do in
matters of religion. Ay, and think. But there
are so many thinkings, and thinkings beneath
them, that we never take the trouble to find out
for ourselves. Look yourself in the naked face,
before God, to-night and tell me — do you believe
— are you certain for yourself of a hereafter?"
Her voice was heavy with passion; her hands
were clasped, her eyes were close to my own.

I answered : "I believe."

"But you are not certain!"

"I am certain, because I believe."

She fell back. "I wish it had been otherwise,"
she said faintly, "and yet, of course, it couldn't
be, for it is true."

I waited, understanding nothing, troubled down
into the deepest sinkings of my heart.

"Let me tell you here — here," she said. "Do
not let us go back into the room. Do you think
any one could hear us?"

I glanced up the vast fagade of the sleeping
hotel. The hour was very late, past midnight:
the whole place was very silent. The fishermen's
lights and the fishermen's bells came across the
water still. The singer had ceased.

"Yes," I said, "yes : they would hear you.
Some one would hear you." A foolish trembling
had seized me. I led her back to the couch.

"Then for Heaven's sake," she cried, "turn "

She started up herself, ran to the electric knob
and struck the room with sudden darkness.
Only for a moment: the soft starlight came
flooding in.

"When you married me," she began, "I was a
girl of twenty. You barely knew me. You re-
member all about it; does one ever forget? We

696

CURRENT LITERATURE

met at a ball ; six months later we were married :
we have loved each other ever since."

"Yes, dearest, yes; does one ever forget?"
"Oh, Maarten, tell me — repeat it — we have
loved each other ever since. Don't come near
me ; don't touch me." Her voice rose to a scream.
"We have loved each other ever since!"

"Dear, dear darling, I have never seen you like
this before ! You are ill ; you are over-tired. Let
us go and sleep: you will tell me to-morrow."

"Maarten, did I not beg of you not to come to
Bellagio? Did I not entreat you?"

"I thought it was only a fad of yours. You
wouldn't give any reason. And Pallanza is such
a beastly place. We will leave to-morrow."

"You know little of my youth ; you see it is all
the dull time that we didn't live together." She
laughed sadly, "It was a very dull time. Shut up
in the gloomy house alone with father, and poor
Mademoiselle Fifard."

Her voice had grown calmer. "I didn't like
Fifard," I said.

"You only saw her a couple of times. And, of
course, she was jealous. Poor thing, she looked
upon me as her especial property. She was a
funny, kind-hearted creature, not over sensible, I
admit."

"According to your own account, her chief oc-
cupation was reading novels, with or without her
pupil."

"Frequently with. I admit that her system was
foolish. We read endless romances. Yes, she
was very romantic. That is my story. Oh, that
is my story." Her voice quivered again.

"Maarten, it is only this. I was lonely, and
dull, and my head, till I met you, dear teacher,
contained little but foolishness. Out of the long
French romances — you know them ; I never will
look at them now — I had made myself a dream-
hero; many girls do, I believe?" She stopped,
anxiously.

"All, I should think," I answered, laughing
cheerfully. "Was it Lancelot, the faithless, of the
lake?"

"My hero I had called," her voice dropped to a
whisper, "Sir Constant. I do not know why, ex-
cept that none of the knights in the romances
were called so. He — he became an important fig-
ure in my empty existence. You will laugh — oh,
my husband, I can tell you no more, do not laugh.
Above all — it is too solemn, too sad! — do not
laugh."

"Dear, I have no intention of laughing. But the
story is quite simple and amusing, all the same."
"Wait to the end." She paused after those
words, which struck a cold chill to my heart. It
was some time before she continued, speaking
very slowly:

"Yes, my hero came to play a very important
part in my life. There was nothing else, you see,
nothing else to fill it. When I tried to do any-
thing useful for any one, father scolded, and poor
Mademoiselle said it was unladylike, immodest.
'Ma chere, soyez toujours modeste.' "

"I drew a portrait of him — yes, I must tell you
that — tell you all. I drew a good many sketches,
paintings. Even you, Maarten, admit that I draw
and paint well."
"Even If"

"Yes; you are very critical. I like that. I like
you to disapprove of me. It shows that you care."
"What was your Sir Constant like? I should
much enjoy seeing his picture."

"Oh, don't, don't. Now you are laughing.
When you laugh, I cannot speak another word. '
"I am not laughing; still, I do hope he was
something like me."

"He was not at all like you. He was very dark,
almost swarthy. But he was very pale also; his
skin was deadly-white. And his eyes were cold
and terrible, yet full of grey light, like steel." She
had bent forward; her gaze was fixed on the
lofty heaven and its stars.

"He was beautiful in my dreams, and strong
and manly. He did wonders, like the knights in
the romances ; wonders of bravery and gentleness
and skill. He relieved the oppressed; he released
prisoners ; he 'rescued young maidens. You see,
it is all foolishness, dearest, and romance until —

until "

She sank her head on her hands. "Oh, the
end," she said.

"Indeed, he was not like me." The words were
on my lips, perhaps a little bitter, but I did not
speak them. "He was a good man, at any rate, a
harmless familiar," I said.

"I had painted my hero, composed verses,
lengthy stories about him — not that I ever wrote
these down ; that would have seemed a desecra-
tion— I had walked with him in the woods, in
fancy, in the moonlight, when he rode out to do
great deeds and I bade him godspeed ! Oh, Maar-
ten, I was only a child. Was it wrong? The
great deeds : it was these attracted me. I
yearned for something beyond the old house and
Fifard.

"I don't wonder. It's all as simple as daylight
Why ever didn't you tell me about your Sir Con-
stant before?"

"Maarten, there came a night when I saw him
in my dreams."

"No wonder, after mooning about him all day."

"Do not say these things, but listen. I saw

him a first time, then often. He was dressed as a

Knight should be. But not always. Sometimes

he wore a long black cloak, and a wide soft hat."

THE DREAM-KNIGHT— BY MAARTEN MAARTENS

697

I had promised not to laugh. I had no desire
to do so. We laugh at another man's wife, pos-
sibly, not our own, when her voice rings with
fear, like that.

"Tell me, if you can — I have asked myself a
hundred times — how came I to see, in any dream,
my Knight in such dress as that?"

"I don't know. Does it matter much?"

"It matters everything. It decides my fate."

"Your fate, dearest, is in your own hands and
in mine. It is safe, and it doesn't depend on any
Knight in a wide, soft hat."

"You say that, but you know it is not so. Our
fates are fashioned for us, outside us. We strug-
gle, at the last moment, caught in the net."

"I cannot admit that," I said.

"No, do not admit it! That is right!" she
cried aloud. "Help me not to admit it, to deny
it. It is a lie. We decide our own fates ! Ah,
me! — Listen. Let me speak quick. He came to
me oftener in my dreams. And he spoke to me.
Things he said, deep and solemn, few and strange.
When I woke, they went with me through the
day. He found faults in me I had never imagined
before. How should I have got to know them,
with papa, who didn't care, and Fifard, who
didn't notice? I saw things in myself! Oh, dear
husband, if I told you "

"This is absolute rubbish and wickedness," I
said. "When a woman is as good as you are, she
always sees the most fearful abominations in
herself."

"I did not see them, I tell you. He showed
me. He saw them, oh, so clear. And he said to
me words such as no one had ever spoken to me
before. All around me noticed the change in

those years; the servants Don't let us speak

of it. Fifard found me out, one day, with my
portrait before me. I confessed."

"You could not have found a worse confidant,"
I cried, angry and distressed.

"Poor thing, she was so pleased ! She talked
to me for hours of my beautiful Knight. But I
did not like that, I prayed her to be silent. I
crept away from her tattle into the woods, and I
heard him there. I met his face in crowds sud-
denly, come and gone. And when I sat down to
the piano, I caught his voice in the music. I
caught it distinctly; I could have recognized it
anywhere. I would look round, suddenly stop-
ping; I knew him to be behind me, I felt him;
just as I turned, he was gone."

She had risen from the couch ; she stood, trem-
bling, a tall figure in the starlight. Her voice
pulsed with emotion. What could I do but let
her hasten on?

"I will tell you what I never thought to tell
even to you," she gasped. "One sentence he said

so often to me in dreams, ay, in daylight, in
whispers at my ear, so distinctly, the sounds re-
main graven on my soul, tho I do not know
their meaning. I do not know the language; I
have never dared to inquire which it was, what
they meant. Let me speak them to you. Listen!"
She came close to me, and enunciated slowly:

"Je naher mir, je naher Deinem Grab."*

I started involuntarily. The words came to me
like an echo, out of some song of Schiller's.
Even in the softened darkness she saw, or felt,
the start.

"I fancy they are German," she continued.
"Now you know why I have always refused to
learn that language, tho you were so anxious
to teach me. You are not angry with me, are
you? — now. I sing Italian. I don't want to
understand those words. I believe they must
mean something very terrible. When he said
them, his face and voice always grew terrible,
terrible. And the last word, I imagine, must
have something to do with 'grave.' "

"No!" I cried, "no!" — for a great fear was
coming upon me. The night was too silent. Her
voice was too laden with awe.

I knew that she smiled. "Do not tell me : I
do not want to know," she said. "No, dear; we
never will read Goethe or Heine together. I will
never ask you for the meaning of that sentence.
Others he said in English. I recall them. 'I am
living for the future.' 'The present is nothing:
the future alone is eternal. Wait and work. I
also am waiting: wait and work.'"

"These are no wonderful sayings," I exclaimed,
recovering somewhat my self-possession, which
had been upset by the German quotation. "It re-
quires no supernatural wisdom to produce them."

She caught at the word "supernatural"; it
struck her down beneath its weight. She sank
under it. "There was nothing," she said, "per-
haps positively supernatural, till I met him on
the boat."

"What?" I screamed. I could not help myself.

"I met him here, between Bellagio and Como,
on this lake, on the boat."

I had steadied myself somewhat, for her sake.
"It was a fancy," I murmured.

"And Fifard? You forget Fifard, who had
seen my dream-drawings. It was she that first
saw him sitting by the side, and pointed him out
to me. Yes, he was sitting there; we first saw
him at Cadcnabbia."

"A fanciful resemblance!"

"It was an hour before I ventured to get up
and walk past him. He sat there in his long
black cloak. And he took off his hat to me. I

*"The nearer thou art to me, the nearer thou art to
thy grave."

698

CURRENT LITERATURE

do not know why, nor did he, he said. Before
we knew how, we were talking together. We
talked of many things, art, literature, beauty, re-
ligion— the deepest, the sweetest. I was ignorant
as a child, he omniscient — so it seemed to my
ignorance. He got out at the next landing-place ;
it was all over in twenty minutes. All over, and
more dreamful than a dream."

"It was a dream. I mean the resemblance."
"In the midst of our conversation he said to
me : 'I am living for the future. The present is
nothing: the future alone is eternal.' Was that
a dream?"

"Yes," I said, falteringly, "he did not actually
speak those words."

"And in taking leave, as he held my hand and
looked into my e3'es : 'Wait and work,' he said.
Was that a dream? There were but few sen-
tences he had said to me before, in our dream
meetings. And these he spake."
"So you thought, then, or afterwards."
"And his voice! Oh, my God, the likeness of
his voice !"

After that she lay silent. The lights had died
away upon the water; the bells had long been
still.

"Soon after we came back from our trip, I met
you," she said, presently. "A new world was
opened to me ; the old seemed to sink from sight.
I have loved you, my husband— say that I have
been a good wife."

I drew her, resisting, in my arms, and kissed
her on both half-closed eyes. She opened them
languidly.

"But I— have I been a good husband?" I said.
"You have been my earthly star."
"But the heavenly?"

For a moment she did not answer, and all the
fear and dread that had been closing in upon me
took solid, overwhelming shape. I went out to
the balcony, stood leaning heavily over the balus-
trade.
When I looked round, she was gone.

Next morning I said : "I am going to take our
tickets after breakfast. I should like, if you
don't mind, to go to Milan to-day."

She looked up quickly: "By Como?"

"Well, no; we might just as well go round
by Lugano."

She flushed. "Maarten, you won't think me
humorsome, will you? I should like to take the
usual route." I did not endeavor to dissuade her,
anxious to avoid the appearance of attaching im-
portance to anything connected with the place.
Anxious, above all, to get away from it.

My wife talked of other things, and yet I could
see she was preoccupied. Once she reverted di-

rectly to the subject. "I should never have spoken
of it," she said, suddenly, "had we not come
here."

"I am glad we came here, then. There should
be no secrets between us !"

"This is not a secret between us, Maarten. It
is a secret outside us. I don't know whether you
understand what I mean. I think I do."

"You mean that it is a secret outside me," I
replied, a little irritably.

She did not refute what was almost an accusa-
tion. She painfully put her hand to her head.
To me she has always seemed most entrancingly
beautiful because of that statuesque symmetry
of form and movement, which had something
classical in them, while the modern unrest of in-
tellectuality— disgusting word, but it expresses
my meaning— leaped and played underneath. Like
a flame in an alabaster vase.

It was only when we were in the hotel omni-
bus, driving down to the pier, that she seemed to
awaken from enforced repose.
"Supposing," she said — and her big eyes dilated

— "supposing — on the boat "

"I would it were so. I would give anything it
should be so," I replied.
"What?"

"If this man whom you met on the boat were
there again, it would prove him to be an ordinary
inhabitant of these parts. It would explain your
whole story, which, of course, really needs no
explanation. A fancied resemblance; that is all."'
She gave me no answer, feeling, perhaps, that
it was hopeless, unwilling to repeat all she had
said about similarity of voice and words, as well
as of figure and face. To her, evidently, this
being who had come into her life was of a higher
essence, or, at least, of a higher intellectual and
moral rank, than either she or I. Somewhere, in
this passing dream, which is the world, he was
struggling on, through daily self-development,
towards that loftier future which passes not.
What the link was, yonder, between him and her
unworthiness she could not have told. Nor did
she desire to retain such link, could she have,
severed it, the while she still clung to its fascina-
tion with trembling, terrible joy.

I am sorry now that I tried to explain away
the whole story— sorry in the face of what hap-
pened immediately after. And yet what else
could I have done that had been better?

There were a number of tourists and country-
people on the boat, when it came up from Men-
aggio. In fact, the deck was crowded; with
some difficulty we found a seat near the bows.
People, of course, were talking and laughing
everywhere. There was a certain amount of
confusion, especially about the luggage.

THE DREAM-KNIGHT— BY MAARTEN MAARTENS

699

My wife looked round nervously; then she sat
down and fastened her eyes on the hills. We
talked of one place and another, naming them.
I looked out particulars in Murray, and we quar-
reled rather vigorously in connection with a new
villa nearly completed on a promontory — over
several questions of taste. We were often di-
vided in our admirations, and enjoyed discus-
sions on such subjects, not demanding that either
should be convinced.

When I looked up from a close survey of the
map, I perceived that our part of the deck — the
first-class top platform — had emptied. Rugs and
bags lay about everywhere, by unoccupied seats.
A bell had rung some time ago, without our ob-
serving it, for the table-d'hote luncheon. We had
eaten something before leaving at the hotel.

I got up to stretch my limbs, and my wife im-
mediately came with me. We descended to the
lower deck, which seemed also deserted. And
we sat down there, just above the engine-house.

It was then that I suddenly saw him coming
towards us, from the stern. I do not know how
he came into sight — whether he had turned some
corner — I cannot tell. I looked round desperate-
ly, to meet my wife's gaze, to draw off her at-
tention— what shall I say? It was too late: al-
ready she, too, had seen him.

He came up the silent deck, in his long black
cloak and slouch hat ; I knew at once that it was
he. The next moment my heart gave a leap, as
I realized this natural solution I myself had de-
sired. Some lawyer or doctor of the neighbor-
hood. The village apothecary.

He came up the siknt deck. He was close to
us. And, all of a sudden, his face lighted up with
a great, glad smile. His eyes were fixed on my
wife: I do not think he saw me. He lifted his
hat, with a sweep against the sky, but passed
very slowly on.

And, as he passed, he spoke the words — I heard
them distinctly — he spoke them in fluent German,
not such as an Italian would speak :

"Je naher mir, je naher Deinem Grab."

He passed us. My first thought was for my
wife. I caught at her, to support her, if neces-
sary, but she remained sitting calmly erect, her
eyes — and mine — following the stranger. He
passed down the companion and disappeared.

I started up to follow, furious at what I
thought must be a trick of some sort, a practical
joke. We seize at these explanations even when
they are palpably impossible. By the time I had
rushed after him, the man was gone from sight.
Down below was the clash of knives and forks :
everybody busy with the dishes : stewards rush-
ing hotly to and fro. I searched the ship in vain,
as well as I could, amidst the confusion. I hur-

ried back, anxiously, to my wife, unwilling to
leave her to herself. I found she had fainted.

The next station the boat stopped at was Cer-
nobbio. I got her off at once and away to the
hotel. I was anxious that she should not open
her eyes amongst the surroundings upon which
she had closed them. Nor did it appear that she
would soon recover consciousness. I hoped to
drive on to Como later in the day.

It was September t8 last, at half-past one
o'clock, in the full light and sunshine of a peer-
less Italian afternoon.

At Cernobbio we found a local doctor, more
than sufficient for what first required to be done.
I telegraphed, by his advice, to a professor in
Milan. An English physician from Florence
joined us in the course of the following day.

During the first night, as I was sitting watch-
ing by the bedside, she stirred from her state of
complete unconsciousness, moved and spake. But
the words were, to begin with, incomprehensible,
then incoherent. A couple of hours later she was
manifestly delirious.

For ten days she lay raging in a brain-fever.
On those days I shall not dwell. In her utter-
ances, all on one subject, the German word
"Grab" sounded ceaselessly, like an echo, and a
knell. Once or twice I saw in her eyes that she
recognized me, and that was worst of all.

On the tenth day she died.

I hastened back with the dear remains to my
home in England. Amidst all the torment of my
loss, one strange fever consumed me, the longing
to face with my own eyes those old drawings
and paintings she had spoken of in the night at
Bellagio.

I am sitting in front of them now, in front of
her bureau; the long drawer is open; they are
scattered, right and left, on the desk. Sketches,
water-color drawings, crayons, large and small,
of a knight in full armor, in different poses, amid
different surroundings. But the face is always
the same face ; it is the face of the man who
passed me on the boat.

1 have written it all down, and, inevitably, be-
cause that form came most natural to me, the
recital has taken the form of a story. It is an
account of facts. I offer no explanation, for I
can find none; I know that during those seven
years of our marriage my wife loved me as
loyally and as deeply as man was ever loved on
this earth. Of such things I cannot speak in
public. Nor shall I. For these lines are the last
I shall ever write, and they will not be published
till after my death.

Richmond, St. Mary's Cray,
Sept. 23, 1905.

J...,^J!4^

•m

Humor of Life

JUSTIFED ALARM
Very much excited
and out of breath, a
young man who could
not have been married
very long rushed up to
an attendant at one of
the city hospitals and
inquired after Mrs.
Brown, explaining be-
tween breaths that it
was his wife whom he
felt anxious about.

The attendant looked
at the register and re-
plied there was no Mrs.
Brown in the hospital.
"Oh ! Good heavens !
Don't keep me waiting
in this manner," said
I must know how she is."
"Well, she isn't' here," again said the attendant.
"She must be," broke in the visitor, "for here
is a note I found on the kitchen table when I
came home from work."
The note read :

"Dear Jack : Have gone to have my kimono
cut out. — Annie." — The Pilgrim.

OH! YOU BRUTE
Son-in-Law: Sorry .you're
going, mother. I'm sure
the house will. seem empty
without you here. — Arke.n-
sas Traveler.

the excited young man.

BETWEEN TWO GENTLEMEN
"I was talking to your wife to-day."
"Ah, indeed! How did it happen?"
"How did it happen? How did what happen?"
"That vou were talking." — Translated for
Transatlantic Tales from // Motto per Ridere.

NOT WORTH SAVING

"How do you manage here without a doctor
within ten miles? Suppose somebody is taken

"Sure, we'd just give him a glass of whisky,
.sor !"

"And if that did no good?"

"Then we'd give him another !"

"But suppose that had no result?"

"Bedad, then, we'd know he wasn't worth
throublin' about." — London Tit-Bits.

JOHNNY'S RECITATION
Johnnie was anxious to take part in the pubHc
monthly exercises of his Sunday-school, so his
mother searched out a short verse, which was,
"I am the bread of life." When Johnnie's turn
came he created something of a sensation by
calling out promptly and shrilly, "I am a lOaf of
bread." — Chicago Post.

OPTIMISM
Never say die ! Even a clock that is broken
has two good times every day. — Punch.

A SURE WAY TO SETTLE IT
In a North of England town recently a com-
pany of local amateurs produced "Hamlet," and
the following account of the proceedings ap-
peared in the local paper next inorning : "Last
night all the fashionables and elite of our town
gathered to witness a performance of 'Hamlet' at
the Town Hall. There has been considerable dis-
cussion in the Press as to whether this play was
written by Shakespeare or Bacon. All doubt can
be now set at rest. Let both their graves be
opened ; the one who turned over last night is
the author." — London Tit-Bits.

JUST AS HE SAID HE WOULD

"Be mine !" he cried, in a voice surcharged
with anguish. "If you refuse me. I shall die !"

But the heartless girl refused him. That was
sixty vears ago. Yesterday he died. — London

Tit-Bits.

WHAT HE WANTED

Mr. H.avrix (in swell restaurant) : Kin I git
my dinner here, mister?

Waiter: Certainly, sir. Will you have table
d'hote or a la carte ?

Mr. H.wrix : Well, yew may gimme a leetle
of both — an' be shore an' put plenty uv gravy
on it. — Arkansas
Traveler.

SHUTTING HIM
OFF

C HOLLY : Weally.
doncher know, I
have half a mind —

Miss Knox (in-
terrupting) : Cut
that out, C h o 11 y.
You shouldn't ex-
aggerate. — Arkan-
sas Traveler.

THE REASON
God made woman beautiful and unreasonable
so that she would love man. — Life.

RESEMBLANCE
"It is easy to see
that the baby takes
after me," Mr. Nu-
paw asserted. "He
is as bald as I am.
his eyes are brown
as are mine, he re-
sembles me in fea-
tures, he "

"Also," cut in his
wife, as the kid set
up a howl for his
noonday meal, "he
goes after the bot-
tle about as often
as you do."

Mrs. Nupaw did
all the talking for
the rest of the
evening. — The Bo-
hemian.

A STARTLING DISCOVERY
"My doodness, somebody's
done an' tookcn a bite out o*
the moon!" — fVoman's Home
Companion.

z«^V/U

LITERATURE

^(fSZ^* Edited by ED\(ARD J.WHEELER <f]:i<ft^^

The Seven Railway Kings of America

Roosevelt and William II. at Odds
A Religious Thunderstorm in England

Immorality of Present-Day Fiction

The Menace of Feminine Christianity

Complexion as a Basis of History

The Lion and the Mouse — a Play

i*t

lit

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lANOS

0«>«min

Pat. oi.

is a pjerfect food, as
wholesome as it is
delicious — highly
'nourishing, easily di-
gested, fitted to repair
wasted strength, pre-
serve health and pro-
long life.

Be sure that you get
the genuine, bearing
our trade - mark on
every can.

yt y HIGHEST JiWJiRTiS IM \

I 4r/ EUROPE and yfM ERIC Jf I

I Walter Baker 8i Co. Ltd. !

I Established 1 780 Dorchesfer, Mass. |

MENNEN'S

STOMIWIXR

fJnsettled 'Weather

of Spring months, witli its raw cliill winds, is especially
hard on delicate eoniplexions, unless protected ana
kept suftand clear by daily use of

MENNEN^S ?aTu*^^ POWDER

A deliKhtful healing and soothing toilet necessity,
containing none of the risky chemicals found iu cheap
toilet powders imitating Mennen's. .Just get
the hal)it of using Meuueu's every day of the
year, after
shaving and
after bathing.

Put up in tttrn-
refillabU boxtSt
for your pntcc-
tioii. If Mennen's
face is on the
cover, it's gen-
uine and a guar-
antee of purity,
Deliijh ful after
sliaviii);. Sold every-
where, or by mail 25c.
Guaranteed under the
Food and Drugs Act,
June 30, 1906. Serial
No. 1543.

SAMPLC FRCC

COttlAM MMNffl CO.
Newark. N. 1.

Try Mennen's Vie-
Iet(Borated)T;ilcum
Powder. It has the
sct-nt of fresh cut
Partna \'ioltts.

Mental
Tog

is a frequent result of "Starch-
Indigestion."

A few days' change from white
bread, cake, pastry, etc., to

Grape-Nuts

will bring relief and wisdom.
" There*s a. Reason "

Po»tum Cereal Co., Ltd., Battle Creek, Mich.. U. S. A.

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