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CHATS BY THE FIRESIDE 
 
 A STUDY IN LIFE. ART AND LITERATURE 
 
 lY 
 
 THOMAS O'HAGAN, PH. D. 
 
 Author of "Studies in Poetry," "Canadian Essays," 
 "Essays Literary, Critical id Historical," "In 
 Dreamland," "Songs of tf Settlement," etc. 
 
 ^ 
 
 THI lOSAir PUSS, PUBUSHEiS 
 SOMasCT, OHO 
 
/^' 
 
 09412981 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 To the Rev. Albert Reinhart, O. P., 
 late editor of the Rosary Magazine and 
 translator of Father Denifle's "Luther 
 and Lutheranism" — wise Counsellor, 
 sympathetic Critic and true Friend, 
 I affectionately inscribe this volume. 
 The Attthok. 
 
FOBEWOBD 
 
 The "Chats" contained in this Uttle volume 
 have appeared during the past two years in the 
 columns of the New World, of Chicago, and the 
 Catholic Register, of Toronto, Ontario. They 
 have been written in the few leisure moments 
 that come to a busy editor whose journalistic 
 duties shut out the heaven of dreams. The 
 author would fain hope that these informal 
 "Chats" may prove helpful and suggestive to 
 teachers and students who manifest an interest 
 in "Life, Art and Literature." 
 
 Thomas O'Hagan. 
 
 "The New World," Chicago, May 3d, 191 1. 
 
EDUCATION 
 
CERTAIX EDUCATIONAL 
 DEFICIENCIES 
 
 V ET me here chat with my readers as to cer- 
 "^ tain defects that mark the educational 
 systems of America. I say systems, for has not 
 each province in Canada, and each State in the 
 Union, an educational system peculiar to itself? 
 There is one defect which marks the educational 
 work in well-nigh every part of America, and 
 that is lack of thoroughness, and this is largely 
 due to the haste with which studies are taken 
 up, pursued and completed. 
 « * * 
 The desire to graduate and mingle in the 
 affairs of life is so keen amongst us here in 
 America that we are unwilling to undergo pa- 
 tient preparation for the duties that fall to our 
 hands in the various walks of life. We would 
 fain assume the responsibility of life and share 
 in its financial rewards long before we have 
 served our intellectual apprenticeship, and so 
 we often see our young men and women face 
 the world and gird on their swords for its 
 battles while they are yet raw recruits intel- 
 lectually. Indeed, it is amazing what super- 
 ficiality marks much of the so-called scholar- 
 ship of our day. 
 
Nor 18 It m the primary school, that this defi- 
 ciency ,s most marked. It is found in the classic 
 halls of our great universities. Men have rab- 
 bled their way through the B. A., and even the 
 
 ,• "• "^oufes. and have come out with unde- 
 veloped mmds, little culture and no power. 
 They have simply been stuffed and spoon-fed 
 and have done no thinking for themselves, 
 rhey have a smattering of a great many things 
 and nothing thorough. 
 
 I myself have heard professors lecture to 
 graduate students in universities who lacked 
 both true and sound sr'.olarship, as well as the 
 rnore important thing still-inspiration. Again 
 the specialism of the last twenty years has 
 played havoc with broad scholarship. Men 
 have been studying the Roman Empire and 
 Media:yal France till they have forgotten how 
 to spell or frame correctly in speech a logical 
 sentence. Listen to these men lecture and 
 what incorrect and slipshod English they use. 
 ITiey are so bent in pursuit of the historical fact 
 that they pay no heed to the correct expression 
 of thought, as if that, too, did not belong to 
 scholarship. • • » 
 
 No wonder that in such institutions of learn- 
 ing as Wellesley College the faculty have de- 
 manded of the giris that, in future, in order to 
 graduate, they must be able to spell. The truth 
 
II that in this country we are too fond of dis- 
 play. All our goods are in the window and 
 very Irttle in the shop. We should aim more 
 at true and solid scholarship and less at display. 
 * * • 
 Why, for insUnce, should a young man be 
 permitted to enter the medical profession until 
 he has first received a libera! education? This 
 country has passed out of the formative condi- 
 tion and should now gird up its loins and be 
 satisfied with only the highest ideals and 
 supreme excellence in everything. Granted 
 that we are still walled in by the material, should 
 not our ideals overcome this and set before our 
 lives such a high standard that neither medi- 
 ocrity nor presumption can enter our scho- 
 lastic gates ? * » ♦ 
 
 The generosity of our people has builded 
 libraries at our door, but how few are the seri- 
 ous students amongst us. We skim the morn- 
 ing and evening papers and, perhaps, read one 
 of the "six best sellers," but we never think of 
 dipping into the tomes of wisdom that the 
 genius of man has bequeathed us. So we live 
 day by day on the chaflF and chips of ephemeral 
 scribbling. * * » 
 
 How delightful, indeed, it is to meet with a 
 lover of good books and the wisdom packed 
 between their covers! Such a one grows intel- 
 lectually, npens in the things of the mind and 
 
becomes truly cultured. Aa Carlyle aaid, a 
 library is a true university, but how few get the 
 best out of that university I If they did we 
 would forget to enquire what had been their 
 courses in the schools. We have all poetry, we 
 have all art, we have all history, which is a rec- 
 ord of the activities of man ; we have the wis- 
 dom of the world's greatest thinkers, and vet 
 we profit little by these princes of genius~^in 
 our blindness eating the husks strewn by the 
 wayside, forgetful ever of the rich banquet so 
 carefully prepared for us. 
 
 13 
 
CATHOLIC AND 8ECULAR COL- 
 LEGES CONTRASTED 
 
 'Kl OW that our colleges have begun work 
 *^ and our students are enrolled, it is well 
 for us to take an inventory of the educational 
 conditions of our day. for education in itself is 
 one of the chief factors not only in the fashion- 
 ing of our lives but in the promotion of our 
 temporal and spiritual happiness. 
 
 Indeed, we little dream how great a share 
 education has in shaping the character of our 
 civilization and creating for it ideals, towards 
 which and in the attainment of which humanity 
 strives and reaches and crowns its labors with 
 achievement and success. 
 
 * * * 
 
 Catholic education and secular education are 
 broadly differentiated in the fact that the former 
 emphasizes the things of the soul, while the lat- 
 ter emphasizes the things of the mind. In every 
 land where the Catholic Church builds a school 
 or a college, its first thought is the spiritual wel- 
 fare of the student. In this it does not in the 
 least minimize the importance of the intellect, 
 but it rightfully places above ali knowledge the 
 knowledge of God. 
 
 13 
 
•tnkingr difference in the character of the in- 
 
 Catholic College, I .hould .ay that i> the Cath- 
 
 Tnl'; K •*' "•* "'"''"' " '•"?•'« '0 di.crim. 
 nate between truth and falsehood-he i. not 
 
 fir. ■ '"V^ "[ '"°'' "^'h '»• """ring false 
 ■»ht., a, „ the .tudent in the non-Cthol* CoN 
 
 an^'wT "" ^''"' ""yt»"«? «nd anythmg 
 ML7u°"J'f"'°' "' i«.tructor, wandering 
 
 cuss This IS false and that is true." 
 • • • 
 In no department, therefore, is the non-Cath- 
 
 »hl? <!^' '^r"'' " '" "•* d«P»rtn.cnt of 
 philosophy Philosophy in its final analysis is 
 correct thinking, but in non-Catholic College. 
 tT*h ^^It " ."° /*'°8nition of absolute truth 
 the best that IS done in the courses in philos- 
 
 o? ti'ooT^ Ur'"'^''' ";« ^'"°'» Systems 
 ri,.» , philosophy. It is evident, then, 
 
 *?ue to r* '" '""'• 'f'^' '» °f bui little 
 value to the young mind seeking for laws and 
 principles of correct thinking, which laT^r on 
 may safety guide his footsteps throu^ the 
 mazes and perplexities of life's problemf 
 * * * 
 
 if Z^wm T" '° v' '••P'^rtment of letters or, 
 " you will, humanities, we have much to be 
 
 14 
 
thankful for »l(o in our Catholic Collegei. Now 
 all literature is but a reflection of life and indeed 
 were la nothing in all art but what ii in life. 
 For what it art but life idealized, and the baiii 
 of all idealization is truth. 
 
 Since, then, literature is but a reflection of life 
 we may naturally expect it to mirror t.M the 
 errors and falsehoods of life. For instance, the 
 poet builds a great poem, but based on false 
 philosophy, as in the case, for instance, of 
 Pope's "Essay on Man," or Tennyson's "In 
 Memoriam," which simply reflect the philos- 
 ophy of Bolingbroke and the mingling of doubt 
 and faith and pantheism of the philosophers ol 
 the first half o« the nineteenth century, under 
 whose influence the poet Tennyson fell. 
 • ♦ * 
 All this, woven in the splendid and memory- 
 clinging couplets of Pope or the divine music 
 of Tennyson, is accepted by the non-Catholic 
 professor and student without any protest— in- 
 deed little heed is paid to the truth or falsehood 
 of the teaching, the mind of professor and class 
 being surrendered to the vital beauty and power 
 of the poem. Of course it should be here 
 stated that much of the informing thought of 
 Tennyson's "In Memoriam" may, without re- 
 serve, be also accepted by any Catholic. 
 
 IS 
 
I hold here that what is strongest, best, most 
 enduring and absolutely essential in all Z, 
 English poetry is Catholic, as indeed any life- 
 
 a-Ch s h'^-";"^ '^ '"-"^^ - non-Catho^ 
 Uiurches has its warmth because of its bor- 
 rowed spiritual fire from the Catholic Altar I 
 need not here appeal to Catholic truths modified 
 or believed in part by various Ourches. 
 
 '!= * # 
 
 We Catholics have the full warmth of God's 
 
 fo^td'''";'"'' ^""' "'^''^ '»'"" -^- the bor- 
 rowed or lesser ra,. that light up but httle cor- 
 ners Hence it .s that all art is ours-sculpture 
 architecture, painting, music. The saints too 
 are ours, with whom we can commune The 
 Mother of God is of our household and we hive 
 arh^me^"^ '"' '" "'^'"^ ^°" '" °- "-«: 
 
 i6 
 
SOME EUROPEAN UNIVERSITIES 
 
 7* TALK about some universities of Europe 
 •■ may be of interest to my readers. They 
 
 the mrr !,'''°"^'' '^' ""*"""- ""^ -"any o^ 
 
 nons to the munificence and patronage of the 
 Popes of the Middle Ages, for the Catholic 
 Church at all times has been an enlightened 
 promoter of the arts and sciences and has 
 freely and generously encouniged the advance 
 ment of learnmg among the ,^ople. 
 » • ♦ 
 The three most ancient universities in Europe 
 
 and ,t .s difficult to say just when they recehTed 
 
 >hJT ^''^''■■^"<^h allege with much pride 
 that It was a colony of scholars from Paris Uni! 
 vers,ty that established Oxford University In- 
 deed these two great mediaeval universitfes be- 
 ^n then- work almost contemporaneous Iv and 
 the,r mfluence upon medi^valrfe and culture 
 cannot be overestimated. culture 
 
 » * * 
 
 I have said that Paris, Oxford and Rnl ., 
 
 were the first European univir^ie's yef.S 
 
 •7 
 
law. I» this re,„.^ P ^ " ''°""^' '" R°"««n 
 
 courts tha/prenc'-Ha^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 ten'danceTt"r *":.""'"''" °f students i„ at- 
 
 18 
 
ber of men eminent in science and letters in 
 France have been educated at this ancient seat 
 of learning. It is, however, best known to-day 
 for its courses in medicine. 
 * ♦ • 
 There are in all sixteen universities in France, 
 and of course Paris is the crown of all these, 
 since nearly everything that is great in hterature 
 and art is centralized in the gay and beauteous 
 French capital. I was going to say that the 
 other fifteen universities don't count — at least 
 not with great scholars. This, I think, is a pity. 
 No one university in any country should pos- 
 sess a monopoly of education — it should, rather, 
 be freely distributed. 
 
 In Germany, for instance, Berlin Univrsity 
 has no such monopoly. Heidelberg and Bonn 
 and Munich have professors quite as eminent as 
 those of Berlin, while Paris decoys away and 
 holds all, or nearly all, the professors of national 
 reputation in France. Of course, for the study 
 of such a special subject as Celtic, the Univer- 
 sity of Rennes, in the heart of Brittany, and the 
 University of Poitiers stand preeminent. 
 * * * 
 
 Among the universities of Europe to-day dis- 
 tinctly Catholic, Louvain, in Belgium, stands, I 
 think, easily at their head. Indeed, Louvain is 
 the strongest and best organized university — 
 
 »9 
 
in it That I could not finT"^''"!" '""^ '°''*'y 
 a credit to CathoHc ,rh .""r''"* ''*«• I' '» 
 the support onr^n'ofet^H^e w"oVd"*^-^ 
 
 of very disUnmiishln J ? ^* ''^^ = ""'"ber 
 
 seriouLndS chalet rrilK,' '"""t '' =• 
 ■s here that the brimfnf n " ""^''- I' 
 
 Mandonnet leetu^es'^r cJur'^hTrr;. """" 
 
 • » * 
 
 Unt'rsitrilThe'Tf;'/" ^^'"'°" ^"-''™^'' 
 and theolo^ial department, °'' P!:"°^°Phical 
 that able b?dy ofXTtors Z S"h °' 
 PopTs! { c^;ured- ,rr tl' "^^ his't^n'-oS: 
 medical school orth?7 T"". ^""'^ ""^ 
 If not as farlfatras'X "ot v?'^"^''^ 
 
 Lille, which has always stonH I ^"'^""^^ °' 
 in the depart.ent^^Kr.Lrlte"''"'^"^ 
 
 30 
 
VOYAGING TO EUROPE 
 AND TIPPING 
 
VOYAGING TO EUROPE 
 
 LET m« chat with my readers about voy- 
 aging to Europe. For many years it 
 had been my ambition to cross the ocean — to 
 tempt the tempests of the deep. I must confess 
 that I found it a very pleasant experience. Of 
 course your pleasure will depend a good deal 
 on the character of the ship's passengers. If 
 they are social, genial, wellbred people you are 
 likely in for a good time, but they may happen 
 to be a dull, uncouth — I was going to say un- 
 civilized crowd. « » » 
 
 I have had one experience a little strange in 
 my different trips to Europe — the going there 
 has always been pleasant, while usually the re- 
 turning has been disagreeable. Not only have I 
 always been caught in an ocean storm while 
 returning, but the social side of the return trip 
 has always disappointed me. Perhaps this is 
 owing to the fact that every mind is in opti- 
 mistic tension when voyaging to Europe be- 
 cause of the expected pleasures ahead, while on 
 the return trip a surfeit of sightseeing has 
 cloyed the mind and rendered it not open to 
 social pleasures. 
 
 23 
 
'f you wm, Ikii^/JtuU '" "1'="'°^^ '-'■ 
 
 gers. Every one ^ /^ *^' °' "" P'"*"" 
 who. An hour or I T""' '° ''"°* *ho is 
 ing is done A na,r ""'' "»«"y 'he catalogu- 
 
 near., a>, classes of peop.e arrlUt'tedtt 
 
 bee'n^^eetAt fo"rfe^^ ^/"^'P'. "- 
 dike, returning w°h a eood /.?""'"''" ^'°"- 
 and experience^ thangold He tlT'' ^"'?"' 
 gazing at tl,e passengers as th" °^^^^^^^ 
 
 ":^cH]::Sd^f'^^"""-ri!:! 
 -rSte^iiry-pz-v^'^^ 
 
 finished their course at colW^ ''!,"^'''"^ have 
 the culture that cl: roX", "th"''"^ 
 Pect to visit all the art n.\,7 f U ^''^y ««- 
 get on good term' w?th R '^' ° ^"'"''P^ ""^ 
 and Murillo and T tian ^^T'!!' ""^ ^"^"^^ 
 the two girls will':e™ain'];"pl';isTT°' 
 her studies in painting, for whth ,h 1 ""^ 
 particular talent and talie. ''' ''^ = 
 
 24 
 
Here at our elbow is an Exile of Erin— 
 not exactly such a one as Thomas Campbell, 
 the Scotch poet, met at Antwerp when he 
 penned those touching lines so creditable to his 
 sympathy and genius— but rather an exile of 
 Erin who has prospered in the land of the 
 Maple and who now, absent from his father- 
 land for forty years, is returning to the cradle 
 of his fathers beside the Shannon, with all its 
 
 historic memories. 
 
 >(■ * « 
 
 Then, of course, we have on board a type 
 of the young lady who is going abroad bent' on 
 conquest. She has already catalogued all the 
 "nice" young men on board and she very soon 
 starts shooting her arrows. Usually her first 
 catch, as she carelessly and recklessly throws 
 her bait, is a univeriity graduate, wearing a 
 soft sophomore look and a pair of well-adjusted 
 eye-glasses. Their accidental acquaintance is 
 a kind of an overture to the whole varied per- 
 formance that is to follow. Eight days of in- 
 termittent friendship on the ocean and then 
 even the mysterious deep knows all the secrets 
 of the twain. 
 
 25 
 
ON TIPPING 
 
 J ^^T.? r°''' ^''^ "ly readers on the subject 
 " of tipping" which obtains so lareelv in 
 every country of Europe. The French call it 
 Pourboire and the Germans "Trinkgeld " 
 Every tourist from America who visits Eurooe 
 
 It^LTu''"?' **"" " '"""»' however f?r! 
 eipwnay be the word to him. It has become 
 
 tne Old World and we are not without its 
 Tern-e-h^^e'""'"-'''""^'' '•'----" 
 
 • • • 
 
 I know nothing, I must confess, of its jririn 
 but like all venerable customs I suppos. i fan 
 be traced back to the time of the Caesars and 
 perhaps this is the original meaning of ''Render 
 unto Caesar the things that are CaesarV" 1 
 IS not too much to say that "tipping" supports 
 
 resoectb.r- '" ,^1!^°^" '' '' a^i„d"S a 
 respectable way of begging-a degree higher 
 
 St a tT ""'"" '"^"rf-ancy, but fo the our- 
 ist a degree more annoying. 
 
 • • • 
 Of course "tipping" obtains in Great Britain 
 and Ireland, but it has reached the subtlety of 
 26 
 
a science in Italy and France. However, in 
 such countries as Ireland and Italy it is sur- 
 rounded with such tact and good nature on the 
 part of the petitioner that you feel it almost 
 a pleasure to give. There is a very charm in 
 the manner in which an Irish guide can coax 
 money out of you. He never lets you know 
 what he is after— chloroforming your senses 
 with the graciousness of hi? tongue and the 
 sweet palaver of his compliments, till the first 
 thing you know you have well nigh emptied 
 your pockets into his. 
 
 • * * 
 The Italian does his work by a kind of 
 strategy and, though you may have a suspi rion 
 that he is following the trail, you hate to draw 
 him away from the scent of his game. Then 
 of course he is a descendant of Marcus Tullius 
 Cicero and Brutus and Romulus and Eneas, 
 and you'd feel ashamed to ignore such ;n-' 
 cestors in the Italian suide of to-day, who is 
 ever ready to point out to you all the re- 
 mains of Roman glory. 
 
 The "tipping" in Austria is very general I 
 
 think more so than in any other country of 
 Europe. No matter how small may be the out- 
 lay, you are supposed to add something as a 
 
 27 
 
tip. Th«t If the reaion that every "Kcllnerin " 
 or waitre... ,„ ,he dual Empire i. able, Mter a 
 
 [',7, ^ aT ""'''=•• '° •" "P »>«'""• 'o' her- 
 •elf. After ..x or .even yearn a. waitre.. she 
 
 tune InH h'"'""?"«'\""P'" """'« » "«'< 'or- 
 
 owV h^olc • " *' '"'• '° '"^" "•"'" O" "- 
 
 • » • 
 
 I shall never forget an experience I once 
 had .n the historic city of St. Malo in Brittany 
 Travchng ,„ my care was a young man who 
 had as yet had no experience with European 
 ways^ Amving at St. Malo early in the morn- 
 'ng. by boat from Southampton in England, we 
 took up our quarters in the leading hole' of 
 the oty-^ne which catered a greai deal to 
 English tourists. The good lady-for Madame 
 IS supreme in a French hotel - thought we 
 would remain as her guests for at least a week 
 and consequently gave us reduced rates. But 
 
 ind Ch^f^/ r "7."" "'^ °' J'^""" Cartier 
 w^fh „, "^ ?"'' ''""^ ""^ '" "d "nd forth- 
 thl Pr°^"'^«d «° P>y our bu.3 and press on 
 ^rough Brittany. Madame was in consequence 
 disappointed, and as she presented the bill "he 
 simultaneously touched a button, and! pres o I 
 
 maids stood around us as a bodyguard, lest we 
 should suffer violence at the handTof the hous*! 
 38 
 
. door r ^ ' "*u"'' '°"«'" "'"«' t-hind 
 . door-I ,uppo,e that he might witne., how 
 I woHld behave under ,uch heavy fire. But T 
 had been m a few engagement, before and. hav- 
 'ng tipped one waiter and one chambermaid 
 we .ought refuge in the bus that wa. to convey 
 u« to the station. ^ 
 
 • * * 
 
 I have a tingling memory of a Venetian 
 gx..de who once proffered me his service! to 
 .^,f r" f, t""^" •*" '="'y""'hian streets of 
 
 e so 'f ; ''"''' ^'- ^"'''- The streets 
 a.e so full of intricate windings that 1 think 
 we must have walked well nigh five miles be 
 fore we reached our objective point. Ever 
 afterward. I took a gondola. Venicr i. not 
 for pedestrians. My guide certainly earned his 
 
 of black bread and wine. He, too, perhaps was 
 that had marched with Caesar into Gaul If 
 ancestor" '°'""'""«^ '° •'='^' =■ «"'"* with such 
 
 ag 
 

HENRY WADSWORTH 
 LONGFELLOW 
 
 'i..yw 
 
THE POET LONGFELLOW 
 
 LET my theme to-day be our sweet poet of 
 the home and fireside — Henry Wadsworth 
 Longfellow. Not that I desire to appraise him, 
 for this belongs to the reader. Just simply to 
 recall some of his more popular poems and 
 speak of the circumstances that attended their 
 birth and genesis. , , , 
 
 Longfellow has told us himself how he came 
 to wrii ; many of his poems. It is strange how 
 the fire of inspiration touches the lips and hearts 
 of some poets. A fact worth noting in this 
 connection is that the subject of a poem may, 
 so to speak, haunt the dreams and thoughts 
 of a poet for weeks and months before it has 
 been set down on paper. No doubt this is true 
 of all art, and it would be interesting indeed to 
 know how long the shadowing and uplifting 
 wings of inspiration hovered over a Dante, a 
 Goethe, a Wagner and a Michael Angelo ere 
 they produced a Divine Comedy, a Faust, a 
 Parsifal and a Last Judgment. 
 
 But perhaps it is well that great artists do 
 not betray or reveal to the world their sweet 
 communion, their sweet converse, with the 
 
 33 
 
guests of inspiration, with the guests of the 
 soul. As I have already said, Longfellow, 
 however, has taken us imo his confidence and 
 told us the genesis of many of his beautiful 
 poetic productions. He wrote the "Psalm of 
 Life" when quite a young man. It was, he 
 ttlls us, a bright day and the trees were bloom- 
 ing and he felt an impulse to write out his aim 
 and purpose in life. He put the poem into 
 his pocket and sometime later, being solicited 
 by a popular magazine for a poem, he sent the 
 "Psalm of Life." « * « 
 
 That sweet lyric, "The Bridge," was written 
 by Longfellow in great sorrow. He had lost, 
 I think, his first wife — for the poet was twice 
 married and it will be remembered that 
 "Hyperion," according to a pleasing legend, 
 was written to win the heart of her who be- 
 came his second wife— and Longfellow used to 
 go over the bridge to Boston of evenings, to 
 meet friends, and return near midnight by the 
 same way. The way was silent save here and 
 there a belated footstep. The sea rose or fell 
 among the wooden piers and there was a great 
 furnace on the Brighton hills, whose red light 
 was reflected by the waves. It was on such a 
 late solitary walk that the spirit of the poem 
 came upon him. * « + 
 
 Longfellow has also told us how the "Tales 
 of a Wayside Inn" came to assume their form. 
 
 34 
 

 He had published a part of the metrical story 
 in magazines. He desired to include them with 
 others in a continuous narrative, and he be- 
 thought hi-.nself of the old Wayside Inn in 
 Sudbury, where his father-in-law used some- 
 times to give hospitable dinners, but which he 
 himself had only once s°en. He placed his 
 story-tellers there. The student vras Mr. Wales ; 
 the poet Mr. Parsons, the £>ante scholar; the 
 Sicilian Luigi Monte; the Jew Edrehi. There 
 were many places described by the poet that 
 he had only seen in his mind's eye. Such were 
 the scenes of Grand Pre in "Evangeline" and 
 the Falls of Minnehaha. "I never wished to 
 see Acadia" he once said after the reputation 
 of "Evangeline" had become established. "I 
 would feel that the sight would not fulfill my 
 vision." Ijongfellow, however, it is said, once 
 visited the Wayside Ini\ after he had made it 
 famous by his poem. 
 
 • * * 
 
 In the composition of Hiawatha, that beauti- 
 ful Indian epic which has done so much to im- 
 mortalize the aborigine in American literature, 
 Longfellow drew from two r" ^at sources — 
 Schoolcraft's history of the American Indian 
 and Father Marquette's diary. From the latter 
 Longfellow took whole lines and incorporated 
 them in his popular poem. 
 
 3S 
 
As to the mold of the verse i.. Hiawatha, 
 why, the poet, who had a most accurate and in- 
 timate knowledge of nearly all the European 
 languages and literature, found and followed 
 for model the great Finnish tale of Kalevala 
 ^o closely is Hiawatha fashioned on the great 
 Finnish epic that some regard Longfellow's 
 poem as a plagiarism. The charge, however 
 IS without foundation. As well charge modern 
 English poets, because they have chosen the 
 Spenserian stanza, with plagiarizing Spenser. 
 * * * 
 Longfellow himself tells us how he came to 
 wrile"Excelsior" : "I wrote 'Excelsior'," he says 
 "after receiving a letter from Charles Sumner 
 at Washington full of lofty sentiments. In one 
 of the sentences occurred the word 'excelsior ' 
 As I dropped the letter that word again caught 
 my eye. I turned over the letter and wrote my 
 poem. I wrote the 'Wreck of the Hesperus' 
 because, after hearing an account of the loss 
 of a part of the Gloucester fishing fleet in an 
 autumn storm, I met the words 'Norman's woe ' 
 I retired for the night after reading the report 
 of the disaster, but the scene haunted me I 
 arose to write and the poem came to me in 
 whole stanzas." * * » 
 
 Of course it is well known how Longfellow 
 came to write "The Old Clock on the Stairs " 
 It was suggested to him by the simile used 
 36 
 
in a sermon by a French priest who likened 
 eternity to the pendulum of a clock, which went 
 on forever, saying : "Toujours-jamais ! Jamais- 
 toujours!" "Forever-neverl Never-forever I" 
 And when a visitor was once being shown 
 through Longfellow's home, the poet said, "The 
 clock in the corner of the room is not the one 
 to which I refer in my 'Old Clock on the 
 Stairs.' That clock stood in the country house 
 of my father-in-law at Pittsfield, among the 
 Berkshire hills." « , « 
 
 Longfellow is one of the sweetest poets in 
 the English language. It is true that he lacks 
 sublimity and strength, but he possesses a 
 grace, tenderness and humanity that have 
 opened the door of every heart to him, it mat- 
 ters not in what clime. 
 
 When studying in Europe a few years ago I 
 was astonished at the knowledge and apprecia- 
 tion which Germans, Belgians, French and Ital- 
 ians have of him. He is translated into nearly 
 all European languages and, as I write, I have 
 before me an excellent German translation of 
 many of his sweetest and best known lyrics — 
 the work of a German professor at Dresden. 
 
 37 
 
LANGUAGES. MAGAZINES 
 AND CRITICISM 
 
 m 
 
"^'Il 
 
 THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE 
 
 ©UR good old mother tongue — the heritage 
 of centuries — shall here be my theme. 
 Of all languages it is the most composite and, 
 while neither the most logical nor clear, it is 
 marked by a richness of expression, a wealth 
 of vocabulary and a flexibility unsurpassed by 
 any other language of modern times. It has 
 not the precision or artistry of the French, the 
 wora building genius of the German, the spirit- 
 ual suggestiveness of the Celtic or the subtle 
 nuances of the Spanish or Italian. 
 
 Yet this noble tongue that Shakespeare and 
 Milton once "spake" has, we might say, a very 
 gift of tongues. It is English but it is more 
 than that. It embodies something of the soul 
 of all speech known to civilized nations. By 
 the infusion of the majestic language of Virgil 
 during various epochs and centuries of its life, 
 it shares in the stateliness of Latin genius, while 
 its Saxon veins throb with the warmth and 
 directniss of the plain but expressive turn or 
 thought of the days of Alfred the Great. Nor 
 has it lost entirely the courtly polish of its 
 
 41 
 
 ill 
 
 m 
 
Norman anceitry or the nobU ue oblige of the 
 days, dark yet urbane, of the unfortunate 
 Stuarts. * « * 
 
 But, truth to say, like its people it has been 
 a pirate and freebooter upon every sea and has 
 not only robbed the precious word-argosies of 
 other nations but in some cases has maintained 
 that these gipsy children are its own. But, just 
 because the English language is so composite 
 and full of the accent of every strange land, it 
 is thereby the more difficult to perfect— the 
 more difficut to polish and pru«e and make 
 truly like unto itself. 
 
 * * * 
 
 A linguistic phenomenon, strange but inter- 
 esting, is the new molding, the new accent that 
 has come into its life since it has found an- 
 other home under New World stars. For as- 
 suredly the English of London and New York 
 or Boston differs as widely as does the trend of 
 thought there. This is, however, in every way in 
 accordance with the law and growth of lan- 
 guages. Separate the sprig from its parent 
 root and you have in time a tree bearing a 
 family likeness, it is true, but quite individual 
 in form, branch and outline. 
 
 * * * 
 
 It is humanity that works this change psy- 
 chologically, aided by every accident of time 
 
I 
 
 and place. By the way, we have an excellent 
 illustration of this in the second book of Virgil'i 
 Aeneid, wherein it described the bloody combat 
 between the Greeks and Trojans. Troy ol 
 course was a Greek colony, but so many years 
 had intervened since its foundation that its peo- 
 ple spoke a Greek differing much in accent 
 from that of Sparta or Athens. And though, 
 as it will be remembered, the Trojans at the 
 suggestion of Coroebus played the ruse of 
 changing shields and donning the arms of the 
 Greeks, yet they were discovered because of 
 the difference of their accent : 
 
 "Primi clipeos mentitaque tela 
 
 Agnoscunt, atque ora sono discordia signant." 
 
 * * * 
 
 J :'': true that Homer assumes that the 
 •■iv-fifs ...id Trojans spoke the same language, 
 A' ■ '. no doubt correct, and the difference 
 l-L>tw.-en them very likely was merely that of 
 a dialect. * « « 
 
 It has always seemed strange to me how 
 localized the English accent has become here 
 in America. See how clearly differentiated in 
 accent is the speech of the man from Maine, 
 the man from Indiana and the man from Vir- 
 ginia, and this despite the fact that there is 
 and always has been more or less intercourse 
 between all three States. But we think that 
 
 43 
 
time, instead of emphasizing, will reduce this 
 difference. Properly speaking, no dialect has 
 ever had root in America. TTiat is, if we under- 
 stand by dialect the form or idiom of a language 
 peculiar to a province or to a limited region 
 or people, as distinguished from the literary 
 language of the whole people. The nearest 
 approach to a dialect in America is that which 
 is represented in the Hoosier poems of James 
 Whitcomb Riley, but we think that the diction 
 of Riley's poems scarcely represents the every 
 day language of the Indiana common people. 
 No doubt in the main it is a tr.inscript, but 
 exaggerated just enough to create tiie veritable 
 local atmosphere and setting. 
 
 We remember here Artemus Ward's humor- 
 ous reference to the difference of speech in 
 America, where he tells of a convict in Con- 
 necticut who, on entering the jail, told the jailer 
 with something of pride in his voice that he 
 could speak six different languages : Maine, 
 New Hampshire, Vermont, Connecticut, Rhode 
 Island and Massachusetts, and the jailer replied 
 gruffly, "Sir, we speak but one language here 
 and very little of that." 
 
 * * * 
 
 Nowhere has an English dialect become so 
 crystallized and fixed as in England. Take 
 for instance Devonshire, Lancashire and York- 
 
 44 
 
shire, and any one who has visited these three 
 English counties knows fall well how difficult 
 it is to make out the speech of the common 
 people. * « * 
 
 As you go north in England you find the 
 language of the peasantry, as in Northumber- 
 land, approximating very closely to that of the 
 neighboring Scotch dialect across the Firth of 
 Forth. Indeed the rich homely language of 
 Burns will be found as the basis of nearly all 
 the dialects of England, for this is in accordance 
 again with the unchangeable law of languages 
 that their essentials, but not their accidents, live 
 ever on. 
 
 m 
 
 \ II: 
 
 45 
 
A WORD ABOUT LANGUAGES 
 
 THE English, the Americans and the Cana- 
 dians are the worst linguists in the world. 
 I know nothing about the Australians or the 
 Cape Colony people, but I take it that, being 
 British colonies, they follow in this respect 
 the traditions of the mother country. The 
 growth or extension of a language depends 
 upon the growth or extension of the nation 
 speaking that language. 
 
 For instance, there has been a greater growth 
 and extension of English and German as lan- 
 guages during the past quarter of a century 
 than there has been of French, because of the 
 increasing and preponderating influence of the 
 United States, England and Germany in the 
 councils of nations and their development of 
 colonies and commerce. Indeed both these lan- 
 guages are to-day studied almost solely for 
 commercial purposes. I speak here of the 
 practical study for the purpose of speaking and 
 writing, not their academic, which is limited to 
 
 46 
 

 their theoretical study in our schools and col- 
 leges, and which frequently has but little value 
 even as a mental discipline. But, while the 
 French language has not had the extension 
 of the other two languages, English and Ger- 
 man, because the flag of France no longer 
 stands for commerce or colony-planting, it has 
 had an extension among scholars, savants and 
 the elite of thought quite beyond what the 3- 
 litical or commercial importance of the nation 
 behind it would warrant. For, notwithstanding 
 the marvelous increase in the number of peo- 
 ple who speak English and German to-day, 
 French still retains its hold as the universal 
 language of scholars and diplomats, as well as 
 of courts and kings. Nor, in my opinion, will 
 it ever fall from this high estate. 
 
 * * * 
 
 You cannot kill or efface the culture of a 
 people flowering through the centuries. France 
 has been to mediaeval and modem times what 
 Greece was to the ancient world, nor are the 
 dramas of Aristophanes, Euripides and So- 
 phocles or the sculpture of Phidias or Praxiteles 
 of deeper significance to the world of art than 
 are the creations of French genius to the cul- 
 ture of our day. From the Greeks we get 
 ideality and proportion, from the French the 
 logical harmony of all beauty and thought. 
 
 47 
 
 ' 1. 
 
Speaking of the fact that French still holds 
 its throni. in the halls of scholars, I saw this 
 well exemplified at Carlsbad in Bohemia last 
 summer. Gathered around a table in a restau- 
 rant were four tourists, with appetites whetted 
 by the keen mountain air of that delightful re- 
 sort. One of the quartette, a lady, came from 
 Odessa, in Russia, and the three gentlemen 
 were, respectively, a Custom House officer from 
 Buda-Pesth in Hungary, an officer in the Rou- 
 manian army, and the writer. But two of the 
 four knew German, and only one English. Now 
 we all were in a talking mood, which is not un- 
 common when tourists by chance are thrown 
 together. It was soon discovered that every one 
 of the four knew French, and we were capable 
 of conversing freely in the language of Lamar- 
 tine and Victor Hugo. 
 
 * * * 
 I found that the Russian woman had the best 
 command of French and her grip on the facts 
 of life, art and governmen. was wonderful. No 
 doubt she had never gone to a Vassar or co- 
 education university, yet she had a knowledge 
 of the world, its peoples, politics and principles 
 that would put to shame any "co-ed" nurtured 
 under New World stars, with portrait aj^earing 
 monthly in our daily papers. Remember that 
 I am not setting up the Russian woman— that 
 
 48 
 
 T V* m- 
 
is, the average Russian woman— as at all the 
 equal of the American woman in intelligence. 
 She is not. But the educated Russian woman 
 IS a deep thinker and has a far more richly 
 stored mind as to the great facts of life, govern- 
 ment, history and art than the brightest of our 
 women, whose little educational skiffs but skim 
 the great sea of knowledge, yet seldom linger 
 to siudy the mysterious secrets of the deep. 
 
 Of course languages are not everything, but 
 they are the key to a good deal. They at least 
 broaden the mind and make us for the moment 
 forget the cottage of our birth. Through lan- 
 guages we learn that there have been great 
 thinkers and dreamers in this world of ours 
 who did not speak the language that "Shake- 
 speare and Milton once spake." Through lan- 
 guages, too, we get closer to the genius of every 
 land— closer to the genius of every people. 
 Their acquisition, therefore, will steady our 
 judgments and give a new value to our opinions, 
 for judgments and opinions based upon senti- 
 ment and not upon fact are well-nigh worthless. 
 
 ' I'll 
 
 Another proof that French is still to the 
 scholar in every land, and particularly in Eu- 
 rope, of great importance, is the fact that nearly 
 
 49 
 
every one of the sixteen universities of France 
 has a summer session for foreign students. The 
 first French university to establish this special 
 course or semester for foreign students was, I 
 believe, Grenoble, and it draws to-day to its 
 lecture-halls during its summer session a very 
 large number of students from well-nigh every 
 country in Europe as well as America. Dijon 
 and Nancy and Caen universities have followed 
 suit, and it is not too much to .say that during 
 the months of July, August, September and 
 October thousands of students from England, 
 Scotland, Ireland, Norway and Sweden, Russia, 
 Italy, Bulgaria, Austria, and especially Ger- 
 many, register and follow courses in French in 
 the universities of France. 
 
 And yet men will speak of the decay of the 
 French language. Not so. If you mean that 
 the augmentation of French-speaking people is 
 not equal to that of the Eiigmh or German, yes ; 
 but if you mean the interest — the practical in- 
 terest taken in French by scholars, students and 
 thinkers, it is far from the truth to speak of the 
 decay of the language of Racine and Moliire. 
 
 Just a word as to the value of French as an 
 expression of thought. It is evident to anybody 
 who knows anything about languages that for 
 
 SO 
 
clear, logical, artistic expression the French 
 stands alone. Now have we any proof of this? 
 Its proof is found in the fact that such a beaute- 
 ous body of prose writing is found nowhere as 
 in France. He must be steeped in prejudice 
 who cannot admit this— nay, voice it from the 
 housetops. 
 
 Remember that I am not so enthusiastic 
 about French poetry. I think it does not 
 measure up to either English or German poetry. 
 And in some departments — especially in the 
 lyric— I think the German the greatest of all. 
 The great songs of to-day are German, and the 
 voicmg in song of the national heart has never 
 been surpassed as yet by any other land. 
 
 ^:i 
 
 
 SI 
 
CONCERNING COMPOSITION 
 
 I N one of my recent "chats" I spoke of the 
 composite character of the English lan- 
 guage ; to-day I wish to speak more definitelv 
 and concretely of English composition and the 
 great need of word study, if we would hope to 
 express ourselves clearly and elegantly in the 
 language of Milton and Shakespeare. 
 * * • 
 Buffon, the great French scientist, tells us 
 that "Le style c'est I'homme"— the style is the 
 man. There can be no doubt about the truth 
 of this statement. Style simply reflects or reg- 
 isters a man's mode or manner of thinking. 
 We speak of a diffuse style, a concise style, a 
 nervous style, a cl»ar style, a periodic style, all 
 of which styles ai. governed by the mode of the 
 thought which orders the sentence. All compo- 
 sition, therefore, reduced to its final analysis, 
 and all the rules of composition are nothing 
 more than thought development. 
 
 Now a study of rhetoric in its relation to 
 composition is indeed interesting, but its value 
 
 5a 
 
1 
 
 as a means of developing theme-writing may, I 
 thmk, be questioned. Just now there is quite 
 a craze in our colleges for a study of the para- 
 graph as the most important unit in composi- 
 tion. I must confess that I cannot attach such 
 importance to a study of the paragraph. We 
 speak of prospective, retrospective and transi- 
 tional elements in a paragraph, but, if the mind 
 has not been developed, so to speak, paragraph- 
 ically, all this formal talk about it in the rhet- 
 oric class IS but a waste of words— a waste of 
 time. 
 
 * « * 
 
 language is a living organism, and at best a 
 knowledge of the rhetoriLril rules deduced from 
 the expression of thought is not at all viul or 
 essential to thought expression, and the hours, 
 days and months spent in studying this verbal 
 fashion-plate are, in my opinion, of very little 
 value. The greatest value flows from a close 
 and careful study of the office and inherent 
 meaning of the word rather than from a study of 
 the mode of expression, either in sentence or 
 paragraph. , , , 
 
 A well and clearly and logically developed 
 mmd, possessing an exact knowledge of the 
 function of each word, will assuredly write 
 clearly and elegantly and with all the graces of 
 composition, though he or she may not have 
 
 53 
 
 l!J 
 
 I 
 
•tudied a single paragraph in a cla«> of rhetoric 
 or compoiition. What we sorely need to-day 
 is a more accurate knowledge of the words we 
 use, and this we can obtain in one way and in 
 one way only— by reading the great masters 
 of English— a Newman, a Ruskin, a De Quincy, 
 a Macaulay, a Matthew Arnold, an Emerson, a 
 Bishop Spalding, a Goldwin Smith, a Charles 
 A. Dana. » » , 
 
 It is said that Emerson selected his words 
 with the nice care with which a maiden cross- 
 ing a brook chooses the dry pebbles whereon 
 she safely steps to avoid the water. Again, as 
 it is wisdom to be frugal in one's diet, so should 
 economy also extend to our use of words. It 
 is pitiable to see a thought buried beneath a 
 great boulder of words. I think we English- 
 speaking people treat our language with less 
 consideration than any other people I know of. 
 Listen to the language in our street cars, around 
 the family table and in our society drawing- 
 rooms and tell me it our good mother tongue 
 could not every day indict us for verbal murder. 
 We send our sons and daughters to colleges 
 and academies to become educated, and they 
 return with as sh "-by a garment of English as 
 was the bodily Vesture of the Prodigal Son 
 when he returned to his father's hous?. I musit 
 
 54 
 
confess that I know no people to-day who un- 
 derstand and study their own language better 
 than do the French. No wonder the language 
 of Bossuet and Lamartine is a clear, artistic and 
 logical vehicle for the expression of thought. 
 
 I'M 
 
 I think slang betrays or reflects superficiality 
 of mind and poverty of language. Go to Ire- 
 land to-day and you wilt hear scarcely a slang 
 word among its people. The poorest of its in- 
 habitants are too rich in wealth of words to 
 resort to slang. They may not talk elegantly, 
 the peasantry of Ireland, but be assured that 
 their language will be expressive and their 
 thought always original. They have no need to 
 resort to the language of the race-course nor to 
 that of the baseball or fooiball field. Slang you 
 will certainly find in Europe, but the people who 
 use it are classed and segregated, whereas here 
 in America it has trickled and trailed through 
 every grade of our social and intellectual life. 
 A corrective of sla- g is the constant reading of 
 clean, wholesome literatu id the compan- 
 . ionship of scholarly friends. Some one has said 
 that God gives us our face, but we make our 
 own countenance. It is equally true of our 
 speech. I believe that God gave Adam in the 
 Garden of Eden a f jlly rounded and developed 
 
 55 
 
 I It 
 
language — no doubt Eve improved a little on 
 thi», and her daughters have been following it 
 up perieveringly ever since— but the counte- 
 nance of language has been the work of man. 
 
 Have you ever remarked how delightful it 
 is to meet with one, the garden of whose mind 
 blossoms with the beauteous flowers of pure 
 and goodly thought robed in the dews of choic- 
 est diction? It is indeed rest for the wearied 
 soul, scorched and parched with the dry deserts 
 of thought stretching ever around us. It is, 
 too, as grateful as a fountain in a desert, for it 
 renews our strength and makes us forget the 
 toilsome miles ahead. 
 
AS TO MAGAZINES 
 
 Ti WORD to-day about gome current liter- 
 *■ ature. This is the age of multiplied mag- 
 azines and journals of every sort. Every 
 school of thought, every religious body of any 
 importance, every literary and artistic cult has 
 its literary exponent or magazine. In a word, 
 we are deluged with magazines — some valuable, 
 some pernicious, some vicious. 
 * t * 
 It is not too much to say that America has 
 discovered the popular magazine. But America 
 has not yet discovered the high class and truly 
 informing magazine. The American magazine 
 is not thought-provoking — it is often not even 
 suggestive. It is entertaining and interesting, 
 but does not contain a great deal of meat. Take 
 for instance the Dublin Review. It has a tone 
 and a literary value entirely superior to the best 
 American literary magazine of our day. I sup- 
 pose the Atlantic Monthly, staid and stereo- 
 typed in thought as it is, is the first of our 
 American literary magazines. 
 * » * 
 But the Atlantic Monthly is not what it used 
 to be in the days of Lowell, Longfellow and 
 
 57 
 
 HI 
 
Thomas Bailey Aldrich. It has somewhat fallen 
 from literary grace and is a kind of gipsy child 
 among the literary elite. It occasionally has a 
 good paper up to the old standard, but its lapses 
 are so many that its sins of omission linger in 
 the literary memory. 
 
 * * ♦ 
 
 We have too much "smart" writing here in 
 America and not enough of scholarship and 
 thought. The Atlantic Monthly had noble birth 
 — it was born under good literary auspices and 
 received its baptism in the regular literary way. 
 But times have changed and some of its sister 
 magazines have donned such glowing attire and 
 frizzled their hair and played the adventuress — 
 and all this with such success that a well be- 
 haved magazine like the Atlantic Monthly, cor- 
 rect in its character and bearing and always of 
 a good moral tone, can scarcely hold its admir- 
 ers any longer. , » , 
 
 Among French periodicals "Les Annates Lit- 
 teraires" is, I think, the best. The French excel 
 in literary criticism, and it is not to be wondered 
 at that their literary reviews arc of a high order. 
 Just fancy the late Ferdinand Brunetiere at the 
 head of a magazine. What judgments you might 
 expect to get. He is unquestionably the great- 
 est French critic since the days of Saint Beuve. 
 
 58 
 
Ill 
 
 Go to Brussels and you will speedily learn 
 what the Belgians are doing for criticism. Like 
 the French they, too, have a standard. In 
 America we have no standard. All kinds of lit- 
 erary heresies are taught in our universities. 
 The professors are partisans. Is it any wonder 
 that our magazines are also partisans ? Take, 
 for instance, the North American Review and 
 the Forum. Glance at their literary reviews and 
 you will soon learn what little real' value can be 
 often attached io them. 
 
 * * » 
 To be a go.. " essayist is to be a good maga- 
 zine writer and editor. Take James Russell 
 Lowell. He was one of the most successful ed- 
 itors that the Atlantic Monthly ever had. Why? 
 Simply because Lowell was a very prince of 
 essayists. He had a command of clear-cut Eng- 
 lish rarely possessed by any other of his coun- 
 trymen. 
 
 The editor of a magazine should be, above 
 all, versatile. He need not necessarily be deep. 
 In fact, if he is too deep for his readers, as was 
 Dr. Brownson, his magazine will not satisfy his 
 constituency. The people will murmur— they 
 may read the magazine as a kind of imposed lit- 
 erary penance, but they will always read under 
 protest. A well conducted magazine should 
 meet the needs of the people, while at the same 
 time it uplifts them. ,. 
 
 i 
 
 1 'I 
 
 HI 
 
 59 
 
CRITICS AND CRITICISM 
 
 JM WORD to-day about criticism and re- 
 ** views. Some one has said that a man 
 becomes critical when he finds that he is 
 not creative. I recently heard a professor 
 lecturing to a class in elocution, and he 
 wisely advised them never to criticise any 
 reader unless they could do better them- 
 selves. Criticism should be the conscience 
 of art and should have in it more construc- 
 tion than destruction. The critical faculty, 
 as a general thing, is not very well developed 
 among English-speaking people — that is, they 
 lack standards and principles. It is true, they 
 freely criticise, indeed often blindly. 
 * * * 
 
 I have more admiration and respect for 
 French criticism along the Une of art and liter- 
 ature than any other. Not that I would will- 
 ingly agree with it in everything— for instance, 
 in the French estimate of the drama — but the 
 French mind is eminently logical, artistic and 
 full of fair proportion. In this, as I have often 
 said, it resembles the Greek mind. Of 
 
 60 
 
course national prejudice often warps the 
 judgment of the critic. I remember once 
 picking up a little brochure in a book store in 
 Rome. It was the work of an Englishman, in 
 which he attacked the art methods oi Michael 
 Angelo and Raphael. 
 
 * * * 
 I read it carefully through just to learn what 
 an Englishman had to say of the painters of 
 the Last Judgment and the Transfiguration. 
 It was certainly destructive criticism. He went 
 at Michael Angelo's Moses, in the Church of 
 St. Peter's in Chains, as would an Iconoclast in 
 the days of image-smashing in the Eastern 
 Church. This son of the North from the island 
 of fogs and mists, whose people were busy bear- 
 baiting, beer drinking, dreaming ot conquest 
 on sea and land, ana burning martyrs at the 
 stake, when Latin Spain and Italy were glorify- 
 ing the canvases of the fifteenth and sixteenth 
 centuries with the dreams of a Murillo, a Titian 
 and a Raphael, now assumes to lecture on the 
 principles of sculpture and painting to the most 
 inspired art children of the earth. 
 
 N 
 
 \4 
 
 m 
 
 Let me say that deep sympathy is at the basis 
 of all true and valuable criticism. Some think 
 that the harder you hit the better is the criti- 
 cism — that to peel the rind off, figuratively 
 
 6i 
 
 M 
 
 ^ 
 
speaking, is clever criticism. Now, as a matter 
 of fact, criticism should be partly destructive 
 and partly constructive— it should be both 
 directive and suggestive. 
 
 There is a criticism, and a very large body of 
 it, that is merely perfunctory. Anybody who 
 has ever given to the public six or eight works 
 and then read the reviews of the books in the 
 different journals and magazine.* will under- 
 stand fully what I mean when I say that a large 
 body of criticism is merely perfunctory. It 
 could not be otherwise, for two reasons. First, 
 the reviewer frequently is dealing with a woric 
 whose merits he does not understand. Sec- 
 ondly, to say something about the book in a 
 column of review often is his sole purpose and 
 end. Often the question of merit is en- 
 tirely aside. « « * 
 
 It will bi; remembered that Oliver Goldsmith, 
 the author of "The Deserved VUlage," was for 
 some time a reviewer of books on a magazine, 
 and he always ended up his review with this 
 safe and sane, though perfunctory, sUtement: 
 "Had the author read more widelv he would 
 have written more intelligently."' This, of 
 course, is a truism and becomes bald in value 
 when continually Ucked on at the end of a 
 review. 
 
 6a 
 
I think the critical side is much overdone in 
 the study of literature in alt our schools and 
 colleges. Is it not time that we should take it 
 for granted that Newman and Ruskin and Mac- 
 aulay could write prose, and Tennyson, Long- 
 fellow and Wordsworth poetry? Continual 
 criticism is fatal to assimilation, and all literary 
 and art power must pass through the door of 
 assimilation. A soul vital at every point, a soul 
 open at every pore — if the expression may be 
 allowed — this is the requisite in orJer to reach 
 the best in literature. 
 
 'Ij^' 
 
 63 
 
 ill 
 
ART 
 
SOMETHING ABOUT ABT 
 
 f ET me chat with my readers to-day on the 
 ** subject of art-especially that departmeat 
 of It which glorifies the canvas. All the fine 
 arts— that is, music, architecture, poetry, paint- 
 ing and sculpture-are co-radical. Art is beauty 
 born of the splendor of truth. Now God is 
 absolute truth and, therefore, the source and 
 inspiration of all art. The beauty of the crea- 
 ture, says St. Thomas Aquinas, is nothing else 
 than a participation of the divine beauty by 
 created beings. ' ' 
 
 With the advent of Christianity a new mean- 
 ing was given to art. Ancient art rested in the 
 finite The best >york of Phidias and Praxiteles 
 has about it not a touch or hint of the infinite. 
 U IS born of the beauty of the earth and reflects 
 as m a mirror its source and origin. But Chris- 
 tian art is of heaven and reveals the fullness 
 and sanctity of its birth. 
 
 The most beautiful, says Thales, the father of 
 trreek philosophy, is the world because it is a 
 work of God's own art. Goeihe gives us the 
 worid of nature, but there is a highei e— the 
 
 67 
 
world o( grace and glory. According to St. 
 Augustine, all beauty in created beings is de- 
 rived from that beauty which is above the soul, 
 and therefore creation leads us by its beauty 
 to God. » « « 
 
 Ancient art represented the gods in sensible, 
 beautiful form, but nevertheless they are only 
 greater men, more beautiful, stronger than we 
 are, and immortal ; but in their forms, their feel- 
 ings and their passions they are simply mortals. 
 Christianity, as a writer says, frees man from 
 earthly bonds and fetters and directs his gaze 
 heavenward. Christian art does not emphasize 
 beautiful form as much as the ancient did. It 
 does not despise it, but physical beauty which 
 was everything to the Greek appears to the 
 Christian as a secondary factor. 
 
 An art critic tells us that every work of art 
 includes a two-fold element, the soul and its 
 embodiment ; the former is constituted by the 
 idea, the latter enables this idea to become the 
 object of man's contemplation; therefore the 
 artist works with hand and mind. He elevates 
 himself above the sensible and still remains in 
 the sphere of the sensible, by endowing the 
 supersensible with a sensible form. He is, 
 therefore, as Goethe once expressed it, "the 
 slave and master of nature." 
 
 68 
 
Let us here for a moment glance at tlie ex- 
 pression of the soul in art, as it feels its way 
 through the centuries. For myself I legard 
 the Gothic cathedral as the sublimest expres- 
 sion of the human mind in art and the best con- 
 ception ever born and cradled in the heart of 
 man. The Gothic cathedral in its ripened full- 
 ness marks the culmination of the ages of 
 faith. It is coeval with Dante's Divine Comedy 
 and St. Thomas Aqu.iias' Summa and the Red 
 Cross Knight of the Holy Land. 
 
 , H: 
 
 It burst upon the vision of the world like 
 some divine flower which, growing unseen in 
 the night, fills at dawntide the whole garden with 
 fragrance, subduing all eyes and hearts with its 
 grace. Soon this great art, so deep in its spirit- 
 ual splendor, covered, a,s a French historian tells 
 us, all Europe with a white mantle of churches. 
 It took root first in beauteous France at Sens 
 about the time Thomas a'Becket, fleeing from 
 the wrath of Henry II, found an asyium in that 
 ancient city. This was the very beginning of 
 Gothic architecture. 
 
 * • * 
 
 When we turn to painting we see how slow 
 was the transition trom the stiff Byzantine mo- 
 saic portrait to the freedom of a Raphael or a 
 Da Vinci or a Titian. Before Raphael, the 
 prince of painters, had to come Cimabue and 
 
 . Mil 
 
 69 
 
Giotto, and the latter needed • St. Francii of 
 AiiUi and a Dante to evoke the great artiftic 
 viiion* of hii loul. Then streamed upon the 
 fair face of Italy »uch a glorioui light from the 
 painter'i ioul, that iti rays to-day fill us with 
 such wonder that we would for the moment 
 wiUingly again dwell in these rich and storied 
 aisles of the past and kneel as votaries at its 
 spiritual shrines. , , , 
 
 And here comes up the question, who are the 
 great painters of all time— <he masters? It is 
 assuredly difficult of answer. As with poetry, 
 so with painting; it is a matter of taste and 
 temperament. Raphael and Murillo— these 
 twain should satisfy any heart and these twain 
 are certainly among the great painters of all 
 time. Add to these the names of Rubens, 
 Titian, Rembrandt, Leonardo da Vinci, VeUs- 
 quei and Michael Angelo and you have cer- 
 tainly a sextette of great painters, though the 
 versatile Michael Angelo is unquestionably 
 greatest as a sculptor. 
 
 70 
 
 'mrm-'^:m>^':,m€\stim 
 
AKT AND ITS TIMES 
 
 Jl RE thete our timet productive o( a grtat 
 ** art or have we fallen •\x<u sin.iil anl 
 barren days, devoid of »ptr ^ i;il inspiratiot,, 
 for that is really what all ^it...t art mans. 
 Let us make examination. The v/oi\ of 
 man is reaching upwards, not, hovvever, 
 in aspiration but in sky-scr.-pcr-. TV.e 
 earth and the things of earth have quite 
 blinded man's vision. There arc ii.dced 
 few who pierce through this mesh of things- 
 few who have spiritual vision and see arightly 
 the things of God. The nations do not kneel 
 — mankind, in its pride of heart, is too all- 
 sufficient. It is not a question of sin, for there 
 has always been sin in the world. The Ages 
 of Faith had as big sinners as the most darkly 
 stained epoch of modern times. But the Ages 
 of Faith had ever eternity and the judgment and 
 mercy of God before its eyes. It sinned, but it 
 repented, and in this repentance consists its 
 spiritual greatness. , , , 
 
 The spiritual worid was a thing real to the 
 men and women of the Middle Ages. They 
 
 71 
 
 /sjfj--* 
 
 M.k;f'*l 
 
 fkjm^ap^iii^L^^ 
 
acknowledged the presence of God in the great 
 temple of life. This is clearly evident in its civ- 
 ilization, literature and art, for it was faith in 
 God that inspired and fashioned its noblest 
 works and monuments. The crusades are co- 
 eval with the Gothic cathedral, and the sublime 
 song of Dante was but the inspired teaching 
 of St. Thomas in verse. No age is greater than 
 its spiritual endowment and no art is greater 
 than its vision of God. 
 
 To-day modem scholars busy themselves 
 seeking moral hiatuses in the character of the 
 great artists that illumine the Ages of Faith— 
 a Raphael, a Dante, a Petrarch, a Michael An- 
 gelo, while their own household gods fil! niches 
 of unhallowed passions draped with the hand of 
 so-called modern culture and refinement. These 
 modem scholars rarely pause to take an inven- 
 tory of the true state of life around them— they 
 are so satisfied with the work of their own 
 hands that they are blind in their appraisement 
 of the work of God. 
 
 The spiritual note in art is everything. Hu- 
 manity of itself can rear nothing but material 
 structures. Humanity reared the temples of 
 
 7* 
 
 )^:^MMmri '^Etf-r-^^:m:!^Bm. 
 
the East, the temples and arenas of Greece and 
 Rome and they are but dust. But the Church 
 of God, flying from the purple rage of the Cae- 
 sars, sought shelter in the Catacombs and there 
 carved m symbols the mysteries of our Holy 
 Faith-symbols which will ever abide. It is 
 heaven that immortalizes, not man, for the bavs 
 that bmd the brow of earthly fame are withered 
 at the very going down of the sun. 
 ♦ * * 
 This spiritual note is greatly lacking in the 
 art and literature of our day. Such art and lit- 
 erature cannot, therefore, survive the teeth of 
 time. Trumpets may blow and heralds pro- 
 claim It, but already is woven for it the shroud 
 of neglect and oblivion, for the soul of every aee 
 and people seeks for the abiding things of God 
 
 fashion '"'"'^ °' '"'"' "^"^"-^^ ''^''- ='"'"°t 
 
 * ♦ « 
 
 Great books embalm the very soul of the 
 age, great paintings reflect as in a mirror the 
 very likeness of the time. Men's spiritual 
 dreams, whether embodied in stone or arch or 
 the glorious rhythmic creation of song, are the 
 true records of a people and a key-an unerring 
 
 tt^7 A °''"! ^°^"' "'' highest aspira- 
 tions They are volumes, vital in every page 
 with life and thought. ^ ^' 
 
 
 73 
 
 T^^IZ^^^m^ 
 
Those who come alter us will not seek to 
 learn what manner of age was ours by reading 
 book reviews or the minutes oi a literary club, 
 nor will they seek to ascertain whose paintings 
 were hung in the Paris Salons or whose books 
 were amongst the six best seller!) — they will put 
 their spiritual finger upon the immortal page, 
 the immortal canvas — ^the glorious dream that 
 reached to heaven. 
 
 74 
 
1'^OMANi HER EDUCATION 
 AND MARRIAGE 
 
CONCERNING W03IAN 
 
 W ET me speak to-day of the important ques- 
 ** tion o{ the education of our girls, for after 
 all, let statesmen enact what laws they will, Ut 
 warriors fight what battles they will, in the last 
 analysis it is woman who makes the nation. 
 Indeed her position and condition are a true 
 key to the civilization of any age or country. 
 Take, for instance, the women of Homer, the 
 women of Virgil, the women of Dante and the 
 women of Shakespeare. Have you not in their 
 characters a reflection of their times? 
 
 And yet, as a writer tells us. revolution does 
 not act on woman as it does on man : it does 
 not enter so radically into her mental organiza- 
 tion; therefore throughout the mutations of 
 history she remains a clear and exhaustltss 
 spring in the depths of life, for its perennial 
 beauty and refreshment; a constant heart in 
 the midst of nations for their vitality, purity and 
 
 chanties. 
 
 * * * 
 
 _ But to return to the theme proper of my 
 "Chats" to-day, what, I ask, should be the char- 
 acter of :he education of a girl intended to be 
 
 77 
 
a home-builder — a light in the sanctuary of the 
 home? This is assuredly a pertinent and timely 
 question in an age when woman, her activitiei 
 and influence, are gaining an attention which 
 they never did before. 
 
 t * * 
 
 Perhaps in no other country in the world has 
 the education of woman so occupied the public 
 mind as in this our own land. Indeed it is only 
 here that o.ie sees such institutions as Bryn 
 Mawr, Vassar, Trinity, which are universities 
 in fact, founded and endowed for the advanced 
 education of women. There is nothing like 
 them in the Old World, in England, France or 
 Germany. The New World is also full of ten- 
 tative schemes. It has fads and fashions grow- 
 ing on every rose bush. Is its higher education 
 of woman a fad ? Let us examine it. 
 
 There is no denying it that home-building is 
 as natural to a woman as nest-building is to a 
 bird. Every woman is bom with this instinct 
 in her heart, and those who depart from its pur- 
 pose should be the exception. But in face of 
 figures often quoted to the contrary, the intel- 
 lectual ambition which induces young girls to 
 turn their faces from the sanctuary of home and 
 yearn for the altitudes — ^the pinnacles of schol- 
 arly fame that are only reached after a lifetime 
 of labor — breaks up this fair dream of home, 
 
 7i 
 
robs It of its fair attractiveness and crushes out 
 that instinct which makes woman the altar of 
 civilization and the moral regenerator of 
 the race. 
 
 * * » 
 
 You perhaps say in reply that all this higher 
 education— this study of Sanskrit, Hebrew, the 
 Higher Mathematics, Goethe and the literature 
 of Persia— will make her a stronger, fuller 
 and better woman within the precincts of home 
 Is this really so? Is it not true that where 
 thought goes the heart follows? We look for 
 long years of apprenticeship as preparation for 
 life s work of head and hand. The intellectual 
 training obtained through four years of legal 
 study in the absorption of Blackstone or Story 
 will not do for the setting of a broken bone or 
 the diagnosis of a complicated case— why, then, 
 expect that a course in higher education will 
 fit a young woman for the responsibilities of a 
 home? They are not one whit more kindred 
 than law or medicine. Each requires separate 
 and special training, and it is folly for enthusi- 
 asts to declare that the college-educated woman 
 IS superior within the home. 
 
 In the first place, what does she know of 
 home? Till the age of eighteen she has spent 
 every moment of her life in preparation for en- 
 trance into the university. Her next four years 
 are spent in the laboratory, library or lecture- 
 
 79 
 
r I 
 
 roo'ii of the university. Now, where comes in 
 her knowledge of home ? If there is a domestic 
 science what does she or what can she know of 
 it? When her husband comes home from the 
 shop, the broker's office or the bank, she meets 
 him at the dinner table with a smile and an 
 array of half-baked cakes and love flies out at 
 the window, for hr^v can love and a bad case of 
 dyspepsia dwell f .gether? She may be able to 
 read Plato in !- - original and talk in the lost 
 language of t.' Goths, but what do these at- 
 tainments avail her in the presence of the facts 
 which hold sovereignty in her household? Her 
 home, after all, is her true world just now and 
 should and must be, as long as she remains a 
 true woman. » » » 
 
 But, pray, let not the reader mistake my 
 meaning here. I do not or would not glorify the 
 greatness or dignity of household drudgery. 
 There is no dignity in labor of any kind — it is 
 rather the spirit in which we perform our task 
 that lends dignity to toil. Dignity belongs to 
 ourselves, not our work. What more dignity is 
 there in the art of music than there is in the 
 science which presides over the kitchen? None 
 whatever. 
 
 80 
 
 wm^T: ■II •mrr^s^K^simm 
 
 ,. JUX^. 'i 
 
SOME MARRIAGE CUSTOMS 
 
 71 STUDY of the various customs, which ob- 
 » Uin in different countries, in the matter 
 of engagements between voung men and wo- 
 men, might be worthy of a place in our "Chats," 
 seemg that the giving in marriage is not at all 
 modern bi; caches back to the very Garden of 
 tden. I take it, however, that the prehminaries 
 leadmg up to the engagement of Adam and Eve 
 have never been published. All we know is ihat 
 Adam had a deep sleep and, as there were no 
 elevated railroads around Eden, Adam probablv 
 put extras in the contract, and then, after the 
 nb was removed and he had rubbed his wonder- 
 ing eyes well, he beheld his fiancee ; but, happily 
 for him, no mother-in-law was in sight, and he 
 had not to produce his bank cheque-book. 
 * * * 
 
 Ever since those remote days, all Eve's 
 daughters have been plighting their word in 
 marriage, but the method or procedure has 
 changed with the times, and to note this varied 
 method is the purpose of my "Chat" to-day. 
 » * * 
 
 In ancient days and, indeed, in the Middle 
 Ages, children were betrothed in their cradle, 
 
 8i 
 
 m 
 
and frequently mw each other for the tint time 
 only on the day of their marriage. This, of 
 courie, saved a great deal of the expense of our 
 modem joy-rides, excursions and private boxes 
 at the theater, but it really cut out also all the 
 attendant anxiety and fear of diplomatic 
 smash-ups. • * « 
 
 In no other country in the world is such free- 
 dom accorded young women and men engaged 
 as here in America. The nearest approach to 
 this is in Germany and Switzerland. In both 
 of these countries a young man and woman 
 engaged are free to travel together, go for walks 
 together, attend the theater and all social re- 
 unions without any chaperone. In England and 
 America young girls become engaged at their 
 own sweet will and then inform their parents of 
 the affair. * * * 
 
 In France, where the marriage of "cob- 
 venance" prevails largely, and where the dowry 
 is a most important factor in the marriage 
 scheme, the young man can never see his in- 
 tended bride save in the presence of her par- 
 ents, and in this way often the marriage is con- 
 cluded between two young persons who are 
 well-nigh strangers to each other. From ray 
 own observations, white living in France, I 
 should say that there are ten marriages with 
 love as basis here in America for one of the 
 
 83 
 
Mme kind in France. And yet, I am not «ure 
 but a French woman can hold and reuin better 
 the love of her husband than an American wo- 
 man. To discuss why, would take me too far 
 
 afield 'lere. 
 
 ♦ • « 
 
 In Transylvania a marriage fair is held every 
 year for young giris. The fathers drive to the 
 market with their most precious wealth— their 
 daughters— in a carriage, and, when they have 
 reached the place, the auction commences. The 
 father cries out, "I have a daughter to marry; 
 who has a son wishing a wife ?" They wrangle 
 over the dowry, and finally the agreement is 
 struck after much haggling. 
 
 • » * 
 In Lapland, when a young man goes to ask 
 the hand of a young girl in marriage, he takes 
 care to go always fortified with a good supply 
 of whisky. In fact, in order that the bargain 
 may be struck, it is generally necessary to 
 have drunk several bottles and have smoked 
 several packages of tobacco. This has led 
 among the Laplanders, to the habit of prolong- 
 ing the engagement as much as possible— at 
 least one or two years— so that the presents of 
 whisky and tobacco may be more numerous 
 and multiplied. 
 
 83 
 
 •i-.;j ^ 
 
««ciocory ibouition tki cha«i 
 
 (ANSI and ISO TEST CHAIIT No. 2) 
 
 I.I 
 
 1.8 
 
 _^ APPLIED IVMGE In 
 
 ^K 165 J Eoit Main Straat 
 
 ^^Z Rochiilar, N«b York 14609 USA 
 
 ^jjg (7'6) 483 -0300- Phorw 
 
 EBB (716) 2Ba- 5989 -Fax 
 
GOVERNMENT 
 
i i 
 
FORMS OF GOVERNMENT 
 
 W ET me chat with my readers on government 
 ** and systems of government and incident- 
 ally refer to parliamentary procedure. The 
 English Parliament is called the "Mother of 
 Parliaments" and perhaps justly so. Generally 
 speaking, a form of government grows out of 
 the needs of the people. There is practically, 
 then, no best form of government. There are 
 conditions where a monarchy is best ; there are 
 conditions where a tempered absolutism works 
 best; there are conditions where nothing but 
 a republic or, if you will, democracy, will suit 
 the wishes and needs of the people. 
 * * * 
 Here in our own country republic? institu- 
 tions have struck down their roots deeply 
 that a change to any other form of government 
 would not be tolerated by the people. I remem- 
 ber well when President Grant returned from 
 girdling the world in the seventies ; he was so 
 "ir the idol of the people that, in a report of the 
 eception tendered him, I think it was in New 
 York, one of the papers, quoting Shakespeare's 
 "Julius Caesar," said, "They thrice presented 
 
 87 
 
 ■pl 
 
[ 
 
 him a kingly crown which he did thrice refuse." 
 So as far back as the seventies, you see, there 
 was a hint of imperialism in the American mind 
 in certain quarters. It touches the pride of a 
 ruler to wear a crown, although the prince of 
 dramatists has said, "Uneasy lies the head that 
 wears a crown." * * * 
 
 But the air cleared and the White House 
 escaped the trappings of imperial pomp and 
 show and our country, cradled in republ'^'nism, 
 has traveled along its path of progress, the won- 
 der and admiration of the nations of the earth. 
 This, notwithstanding the fact that its footsteps 
 have been and are to-day beset with many dan- 
 gers. What we hope will always save this 
 goodly commonwealth is the great common 
 sense of its people, for Americans are emi- 
 nently intuitive and practical. 
 
 Now intuitive and practical seem vt first sight 
 to be at variance with each other. Not so, how- 
 ever. Intuitive does not necessarily mean i-ieal- 
 istic or theoretical, but rather the power of dis- 
 cerning a truth through experience, without any 
 process of reasoning or deduction. This really 
 valuable gift, I hold, Americans possess in a 
 high degree, and this with their great common- 
 sense way of looking at things will, I consider, 
 hold them almost always within the orbit of 
 wise government and free from national crimes. 
 
Another anu a greater danger, I consider, 
 threatens the life of our commonwealth. It is 
 the loosening of the moral bonds which hold 
 society together. Some one has said that, were 
 it not that the American people are so engrossed 
 in the making of money, their moral pace would 
 be more startling than that of France of to-day. 
 But the truth is that our country quite outstrips 
 the France of to-day in many of its besetting 
 sins. We sometimes smugly forget our record. 
 In the divorce court we surpass every other 
 nation save Japan, which has three times as 
 many divorces as our country, while we, on the 
 other Hand, have more than three times as many 
 divorces as France. If you would know the 
 dangers that beset the rule of the people, con- 
 sider well the fact that aside from Japan, which 
 is an oriental country where marriage has 
 never been considered aught but a civil con- 
 tract, the three foremost republics of our day — 
 the United States, France and Switzerland- 
 lead the world in divorce— nay, have more than 
 five times as many divorces as all the other 
 civilized and Christian countries put together. 
 Is this not freedom gone mad? 
 
 i ■ , 
 
 Again, our record for homicides is equally 
 startling. Dr. Andrew D. White, ex-president 
 of Cornell University, recently pointed out that 
 we have more homicides in proportion to our 
 
population than any three countries in the 
 world. In the face of these facts it is difficult 
 to be optimistic for our future. With respect 
 to our national government, yes ; with respect ■ 
 to the enforcement of law and order and the 
 protection of life and the observance of God's 
 laws delivered on Mount Sinai, the future of 
 our country is certainly not too bright. 
 
 * 4 * 
 
 But I think I hear you say, "Remove the 
 causes." Yes, but these causes are deep-seated 
 and many. Only the teaching of the Catholic 
 Church can eventually hold our country in its 
 moral orbit. When the, moral mercury drops 
 low at the portals of our homes no legislation, 
 however well directed, can rectify it. This 
 thing is from God and is not of the councils of 
 men. Civic order may indeed be restored and 
 the protection of life secured and crime in the 
 public eye reduced, but the altar of the home 
 around which kneels the nation is tended by 
 acolytes of faith and hope and love — obedience 
 to the Divine will and a hearkening to those 
 spiritual guides — the priesthood of God — to 
 whom has been entrusted the salvation of 
 our souls. 
 
 90 
 
LITERATURE 
 
h 
 
LYRIC PO. -7Jiy 
 
 1 ET me chat to-day about the lyric as a fcT.i 
 ■^ of poetry. The lyric, of course, is entirely 
 personal— purely subjective. It deals with an 
 emotion. It is always simple not complex, and 
 he is the best writtr of lyrics who lays bare in 
 simple and direct language the sentiment which 
 sways his heart. * * ■» 
 
 The lyric at times stirs up the drama, the bal- 
 lad and sometimes the epic, tHou^h its pres- 
 ence is felt tut little in the latter. It also abides 
 in the sonnet and the ode. Take for instance 
 Shakespeare's tragedy of Romeo and Juliet- 
 its very flood-light is the lyrical. Never did 
 emotion in a drama hold the stage in i' ■ ,s- 
 session as in this beautiful lyrical drama. The 
 minor chord of portending catastrophe for the 
 "star-crossed" lovers rings through it from the 
 outset, and pity and sighs form its sad course. 
 * * * 
 Every country in the worn, has its lyric 
 writers and, unlike to the drama, the lyric has 
 not found expression in epochs, for it belongs 
 equally to every age. To-day Germany is de- 
 cidedly richer in lyrics than any other country 
 of Europe This can easily be accounted for. 
 The Germans are full of sentiment— patriotic, 
 
 93 
 
convivial, amoroui. German poetry i» full oJ 
 love songs, and the Teuton cares not if the 
 whole world knows that he is fast in the meshes 
 of love Travel, for instance, through Germa«y 
 and you will meet these "verlobt" parties m the 
 compartments of the trains, and they will take 
 a particular pride in telling you how long they 
 are engaged. You will find a good deal of the 
 same frankness in the English people. 
 • * ♦ 
 The poetry of Scotland is also very rich in 
 lyrics. The Scottish nature is deep and warm 
 and convivial, albeit in sentiment it is under 
 certain circumstances cautious and reserved. 
 It would be difficult to match Bums as a lync 
 po»t, though for finish and delicacy of thought 
 he is not equal to Tom Moore. Burns lyrics 
 have the fragrance of the heather and the joy 
 of the wind-swept waste in them. He is essen- 
 tially the lyric poet of democracy, and his notes 
 of independence and freedom have a double 
 value, seeing that they had birth in a time when 
 class distinction dominated his native land. 
 • • • 
 Irish lyrics have a tenderness and flavor all 
 their own. The love ly.ic of Ireland is made up 
 of homage and extravagance. Compared with 
 the confession of love vowed by an Insh wooer 
 the warm sentences of Romeo in the moonlit 
 garden of Verona are but as water unto winr. 
 It goes vrithout saying, therefore, that an Insh- 
 
 94 
 
man is the best wooer in the world. Hit Icini- 
 man m Brittai.y is of a Uke nature. So both 
 Brittany and Ireland are rich in love !• 'cs 
 The courts of love that marked the home ol the 
 ancient troubadour have not yet in either land 
 fo ded their tents like the Arabs and silently 
 stolen away." • • » 
 
 The greatest patriotic lyric ever written was 
 composed b) a Frenchman— De Lisle. Yet its 
 greatness abides in the music rather than in the 
 words The Marseillaise •; the most stirring 
 martial lyric ever compos-^d. though, as I have 
 indicated already, its words do not amount to 
 much. But ^ts music is superb. It has all the 
 proud soaring ardor of "la belle France" in its 
 every note. People who sing such a sor • could 
 never be a subject people. It is ke I in a 
 tneasure of triumph. Its every note, ...y and 
 thnlling, denotes victory. 
 * » * 
 We have been too busy in .\merica to pro- 
 duce a great body of lyrics, nor has our national 
 song yet been written. Neither "The Star- 
 Spangled Banner" nor "America" nor the "Bat- 
 tle Hymn of the Republic" voices the heart of 
 this great and growing land. Some day it will 
 be wntten and it will thrill. The land of the 
 Maple set under the stars of the North has 
 lound a noble, patriotic expression in the beau- 
 
 tUrdJ^'^"-''^ -°'' °' » ^'^^^ 
 
 95 
 
THE TRUE POET 
 
 Hi 
 
 ( - 
 
 m 
 
 ii-i 
 
 IT is said that every one is a poet in embryo. 
 The shepherd who stands upon the hillside 
 to look at the rainbow— the covenant of Gods 
 promise set in the he:, ■ ens-or the wamng sun 
 as it sinks to rest while, as the Elizabethan poet 
 savs, all nature blushes at the performance, is 
 quite as much the poet as the inspired singer 
 of lofty rhymes, though he may not have em- 
 bodied his souWreams in the measured music 
 of verse. » * * 
 
 Yet it must be confessed that your true poet 
 is something more than a '°-«. °' ^eauty. The 
 first essential of a true poem is that >t should 
 have pulse in its lines-that there should be a 
 soul-current bearing it up-that its music be the 
 notes of true inspiration. It will be remem- 
 bered that Edgar Allen Poe, no mean authority 
 as to the true principles of poetry maintains 
 in his essay on "The Poetic Principle that no 
 long poem can be true poetry. TJe author o 
 'm: Raven" and "The Fall of the House of 
 Usher" would thereby exclude such poems as 
 Milton's "Paradise Lost," Goethe s Faust 
 and Dante's "Divine Comedy." 
 
 96 
 
The great misuke made to-day in the ap- 
 praisement of poetry is that we magnify tech- 
 nique and the artistic, forgetting that, after all, 
 neither one nor the other constitutes the su- 
 preme life or value of a true poem. We have 
 this artistic sense so overdone that in ninety 
 per cent of the poems that appear in our cur- 
 rent magazines there is no evidence of the least 
 inspiration, nor is there any thought that could 
 not be just as well expressed in prose form. 
 
 There are writers of verse to-day who, while 
 their wings do not trail ir. the dust, move along 
 so low a plane that their poetry, if indeed it 
 may be termed poetry, has caught the color and 
 stain of the earth. How far the late Francis 
 Thompson was removed from this those who 
 have read his great poem, "The Hound of 
 Heaven," know full well. Thompson is the very 
 best exemplar of what I am contending for— 
 that poetry is of the soul— it is vision ; it is im- 
 agination ; it is fire. Yes, fire, from the altar of 
 true inspiration, borne by the thurifers of God, 
 who stand eternally at the altar of Truth and 
 Beauty and serve God in the great temple 
 of Life. , , ^ 
 
 There is no doubt that here in America we 
 have been paying too much tribute to mere 
 artistry in poetry. Just analyze the work of 
 
 97 
 
such poets as Richard Henry Stoddard, Ed- 
 mund Clarence Stedman, Thomas Bailey Aid- 
 rich and Richard Watson Gilder, aU ot the 
 artistic school, and you will readily recognize 
 that all four lack the real pulse of poetry— the 
 divine fire ot inspiration. It is quite true that 
 all four have written some charming poems, full 
 of the glow of beauty and hallowed as the breath 
 and memory of a sacred shrine, but they lack 
 that miracle of thought, that Patmos of the soul, 
 which gives our earth hints and glints of the 
 spiritual beauty beyond— which expresses life 
 in terms of eternity set to the music and melody 
 of eternal beauty. , * * 
 
 The true poet is a prophet of the people and, 
 if true to the gifts given him of God, will lead 
 the world to the higher tablelands of life and 
 living. He has been consecrated for his divine 
 office of song by a gift of God, and, if he does 
 not turn from his high vocation and look down 
 towards Camelot, he will assuredly bless the 
 earth, and the seedlings of his grace will take 
 root and blossom in all the gardens of mankmd. 
 
 98 
 
THE TECHNIQUE OF POETBT 
 
 T* TO-DAY my chat shall be academic and in- 
 * tended more particulary for those who 
 arc interested in poetry on the side of its tech- 
 nique. It is Mrs. Browning who says that every 
 spirit builds its own house. To my mind much 
 time is lost in many of our schools and colleges 
 studying the technique of poetry, quite apart 
 from the feeling or emotion which, through its 
 unifying action, shapes, fashions and molds the 
 whole poem. « , * 
 
 Be assured that when the inspiration is strong 
 and the fires burning at their full height metre, 
 melody, rhyme and all the coefficients of poetic 
 expression will take care of themselves. This is 
 what Mrs. Browning means when she says that 
 every spirit builds its own house. 
 
 A study of the technique of any art is unques- 
 tionably interesting and of value, but it is not a 
 primary factor in the study of art, and to em- 
 phasize it as such is to lose sight of the function 
 and meaning of all art. Take, for instance, the 
 
 99 
 
vocal interpretation of poetry. Only through 
 a comprehension of the thought, which begets 
 sympathy and thereby places the reader in the 
 position and mood of the writer of the poem, 
 can anv reader hope to achieve success. 
 
 The laws or principles that govern any art 
 flow out of the divine essence or energy of the 
 art— whether the art be poetry, sciilpture, music 
 or painting. Indeed, imagination and feelmg 
 constitute almost the whole of art. Take these 
 out of poetry and what have you got? For m- 
 stance, rob the work of Shakespeare or Dante, 
 Milton or Goethe of imagination or feehng, and 
 you make these poets poor, indeed. 
 * * * 
 All forms of poetry, too, seek their own ap- 
 propriate metre, verse and stanza. 1 ook at de- 
 scriptive poetry, for instance, or narrative or 
 didactic. It has a metre peculiar to itself— a 
 metre which grows out of the needs of the 
 theme. Tennyson never could have built up his 
 great metaphysical poem and elegy "In Me- 
 moriam," had he employed a stanza in which 
 the first and third lines rhymed, for it would 
 have stemmed and stopped the flow of his great 
 organ thought, which keys so sublimely this 
 whole cathedral of song. 
 
How well poetic thought laden with the full 
 fire of inspiration seeks out its own metre is 
 seen in such poems as Browning's "How They 
 Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix" 
 and Tom Hood's "Bridge of Sighs." Notice 
 the hurry and commotion in the first and the 
 strain of nervous tension and pathos in the sec- 
 ond, and how well the flow of verse voices or 
 reflects both. , , , 
 
 Perhaps the greatest master of melody among 
 modern English poets was Swinburne. Yet, 
 there are passages in Tennyson that it would 
 be difficult to match. This ear for fine melody 
 on the part of the poet is a distinct gift in itself. 
 Spenser possessed it in a high degree. Indeed, 
 it may be questioned if any other English poet 
 equals the author - i tiie "Faerie Queen" in the 
 melodious marshalling of words. 
 
 Then we have that strange poetic genius and 
 friend of Wordsworth's, Coleridge, whose two 
 poems, "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" and 
 "Christabel," are full of passages of wonderful 
 melody. Nor should we forget Shelley — the 
 ethereal Shelley, who spread his poetic wings in 
 air so rare and high that never before had gen- 
 ius sought to sail such distant seas of thought, 
 nor sing from summits that seemed to pierce 
 
the blue pavilion of heaven. These then are the 
 great masters of poetic melody — Spenser, Cole- 
 ridge, Shelley, Tennyson and Swinburne. 
 
 h. 
 
 Speaking of the melody in Tennyson's poetry 
 reminds me that, while the author of "The 
 Idylls of the King" has rarely been surpassed 
 as a master of melody, he was never able to 
 achieve any success as a musician. Browning, 
 however, though his verse is often rugged, zig- 
 zag and full of strange stops, was a musician of 
 far more than ordinary gifts. How paradoxical 
 then is not genius. We think of Dante Gabriel 
 Rossetti, who, it is said, should have painted his 
 poems and written his paintings. Perhaps in 
 the case of Rossetti and Browning the fires of 
 inspiration did not bum strong enough. 
 
 I i 
 
SOME IRISH AUTHORS 
 
 ^fc WORD with my reader about Irish au- 
 ** thors. Is there a national poet of Ire- 
 land in the sense that Schiller represents Ger- 
 many or Bums represents Scotland and, if there 
 is one, who is he? Of course the name of Tom 
 Moore at once leaps to the lips. But was 
 Moore really an Irish national poet? 
 * • • 
 I scarcely think the author of the "Irish Mel- 
 odies" and "Lallah Rookh" can be said to have 
 voiced Ireland in national hopes and her dear- 
 est dreams. Moore was never the poet of the 
 common people as Bums was, yet he did a great 
 work for Ireland, especially among the upper 
 classes of the English, for his beautiful lyrics 
 penetrated the drawing-rooms of England — 
 drawing-rooms alien to himself and his ideals. 
 
 Nor can it be denied that the poet breathed 
 an Irish soul into his work. One thing is cer- 
 tain, that Moore is not only the sweetest of all 
 Irish lyric writers but the sweetest song 
 writer of the English-speaking world. Thert is 
 
 103 
 
a mingling of melody and Celtic witchery in his 
 lines, but he is really not an Irish poet of patri- 
 otic action and inspiration. 
 
 Hi 
 
 Nor can Moore be called a poet of the "Irish 
 Cause" — not at least iti the sense that Thomas 
 Davis was. Take Davis' "The West's Awake." 
 Why, there is more fire in its lines than in all 
 Tom Moore ever wrote. Yet I would not have 
 you believe that I depreciate Tom Moore. He 
 is a glorious child of Erin, rocked and dandled 
 and lulled to patriotic iCSt by the admiring 
 throngs of English drawing-rooms. 
 
 The destruction of Ireland's nationality was 
 the destruction of her art. What Irish genius 
 might have done, had it not beaten its wounded 
 and bleeding wing against the iron bars of op- 
 pression, we know not. I make no aoubt, had 
 Ireland been free to fashion her immortal 
 dreams in marble or on the canvas or in lofty 
 rhyme or in the sub.'e notes of song, perhaps 
 we would have had an Irish Michael Angelo or 
 an Irish Dante or an Irish Raphael or an Irish 
 Wagner. « * * 
 
 But Ireland is young yet in the plenitude of 
 spiritual power. She is just now being taken to 
 the font for national baptism. She has yet to 
 feel her life in every limb. The youngest 
 
 104 
 
amongst us may see such a renaissance of Irish 
 art as will astonish the world. She has, thank 
 God, the spiritual endowment, and that means 
 everything. , , , 
 
 Nor as yet has the Irish novel been written. 
 Carleton and Lever and Banim and Maria 
 Edgeworth and Gerald Griffin have given us 
 something, but that something falls far below 
 the possibilities in Irish fiction. No one has 
 yet portrayed in fiction the eternal heart of Ire- 
 land. Perhaps this will be done by an Irish 
 exile. It is only when separated from our 
 mother that we fully value her tenderness 
 and love. t * * 
 
 I would like to see a greater appreciation of 
 the Celt in literature. I would like our Irish 
 societies to bring out in their programs what 
 Irish genius stands for — its sublimity, its rev- 
 erence, its vision, its spirituality. The soul of 
 the Celt rests upon the mountain peaks of life, 
 under the tents of God, with the stars for altar 
 tapers drenched in the eternal dews of heaven. 
 
 I 
 
 loS 
 
A WORD ABOUT TRANSLATIONS 
 
 V DESIRE to chat to-day with my readers 
 ' about translations of English classics that 
 are i.iade in various foreign languages. Every 
 stud:nt who has ever taken a college arts course 
 knows full well the help and danger that lurk in 
 translations — help if these translations are used 
 wisely and judiciously, danger if they are used 
 as a "pony" to bear up and land the student 
 across the stream of examinations, without 
 having to buf!et the st^'ong current of toil 
 and study. « * * 
 
 I regard translation as the supreme test of 
 language study and language acquirement. To 
 translate an ode of Horace into good English 
 verse one must know well Horatian Latin, as 
 well as its equivalent in English. 
 
 The late Professor Goldwin Smith could make 
 the most accurate and felicitous translation of 
 Latin verse that I have ever known. And why? 
 Simply because, in the first place, he was a dis- 
 tinguished Latin scholar, and, in the second 
 place, he had a command of English possessed 
 by few other scholars in our day. 
 
 io6 
 
One of the moit difficult of tranilationi U 
 Shakespeare. The great matter dramatist, as 
 is well known, is translated into well-nigh all 
 the Eur' -an languages, but German scholars 
 have succeeded much the best in this effort or 
 task. There are two reasons for this : German 
 scholars are both thorough and painstaking, 
 and again Shakespearean mode of thought is 
 much more kindred to the German mind than 
 it is to either the French, Italian or Spanish 
 
 mind. 
 
 * • * 
 
 For, after all, if you leave out the Celtic ele- 
 ment — that mystery and magic which run like 
 a golden thread through so many of his plays 
 and which is essentially Celtic— Shakespeare is 
 a literary cousin of the master poets of Ger- 
 many, though separated from them by a gulf 
 of many years. Again, aside from the mode of 
 thought, if you leave out the Latinized words 
 how close do not the German words come to 
 the Anglo-Saxon, especially in their social and 
 suggestive meaning? 
 
 Taken in all, however, the Italians do into their 
 mother tongue more foreign classics than any 
 people in Europe. Why, it is simply amazing 
 what a knowledge a well educated Italian wo- 
 
 107 
 
'^i 
 
 man has of Byron, Tennyion, Longfellow, 
 Shalr.eipcarc, at well ai tuch proae writers at 
 Rutkin and Macauiay. I will hazard the opin- 
 ion that to-day in Rome can be found ten timet 
 as many women who have read the playt of 
 Shakespeare and the poems of Longfellow, as 
 there are Chicago women who know Dante and 
 Carducci. Yet we sometimes smugly consider 
 ourselves superior to the woiM. 
 
 Let me here give first the English text of 
 Longfellow's beautiful sonnet on the "Divme 
 Comedy" of Dante, which usually precedes in 
 our poet's translation of the Florentine's great 
 trilogy, the "Inferno": 
 
 Oft have I seen st some cathedrAl door 
 A laborer, pausing io the duit and heat. 
 Lay down his burden, and with reverent feet 
 
 Enter, and cross himself, and on the floor 
 
 Kneel to repeat his paternoster o'er; 
 Far ofl the noises of the world retreat; 
 The loud vociferations of the street 
 
 Beiome an undistinituishable roar. 
 
 So, as I enter here from day to day. 
 And leave my burden at this minster gi.te, 
 
 Kneeling in prayer and not ashamed to pray. 
 The tumult of the time disconsolate 
 To inarticulate murmurs dies away. 
 While the eternal ages watch and wait 
 
 Io8 
 
Now here is a German translation of thit 
 beautiful aonnet. How far the translator, un- 
 known to me, has caught the spirit, the reader 
 having a good knowledge of German may 
 judge : 
 
 Oft »ah an Pfortcn manchcr Kathedracic 
 Ich cinfn Wcrksmann drr vor Staub und Schwuele, 
 Sein Bundet hinwarf und im NahRcfuehlt 
 
 Der Gotthcit .lich bckrcuzt an dem Portale 
 Manch Patcrnuiter sprach vcrklaerl vom Strahit 
 Dtr Andacht. cr in solcher dutt gen Kurhic; 
 
 D«r Slrassen Laerm. das laule Marktgcwuehlt, 
 
 Ward leis' Gcsunime hier mil einem Male. 
 
 So mag ich buerdelos. mit tacglich neu 
 Erweckter Inbrunst auch zum Mucnster schreiten 
 Und knieend beten — beten sonder Schril 
 
 Da stirbt mir der Tumult trostloser Zciten 
 Verhallend im Oermurmet bin, — doch treu 
 
 Unsteht die Hochwacht mich der Ewigkeiten. 
 
 lu; 
 
SNOBS. FADS AND 
 CUSTOMS 
 
AS TO 8\OB8 AND SXOBBERY 
 
 *pHE subject of my chat to-day will be snob- 
 * bery. It will be remembered that the 
 great English novelist, Thackeray, has a book 
 on snobs, and any one who observes — who 
 trave' with what the French say, "les yeux 
 grands ouverts," eyes wide open— cannot but 
 see that every land has its snobs. Thackeray 
 certamly had no lack of subjects in England, 
 for, if there is any land in the whole world 
 cursed by snobbery, it is England. Your Eng- 
 lish snob is the fullest fledged of any. 
 * * * 
 
 Some few weeks ago Jcseph Smith, a member 
 of the Papyrus Club of Boston, and an intimate 
 friend and admirer of the late John Boyle 
 O'Reilly and James Jeffrey Roche, contributed 
 a paper on "Snobs and Snobbery" to the Phila- 
 delphia Saturday Evening Post. This paper 
 was very cleverly written and treated of the dif- 
 ferent kinds of snobs. In this paper Mr. Smith 
 .says that a true man seeks eminence while 
 a snob seeks prominence; the one fame, the 
 
 "3 
 
iu. 
 
 5 i: 
 
 II 
 
 other notoriety; one struggles for a place in 
 the heart and history of the age ; the other for 
 a position in the eye and car of his generation. 
 
 * * * 
 
 Easy money, says Mr. Smith, is the fertilizer 
 of the soil in which snobbery flourishes; easy 
 money is the mother of vulgarity, pretense and 
 ostentation; the maker of the Iiabits and man- 
 ners that clothe the newly rich like ill-fitting 
 garments. v * * 
 
 In England you will not find much snobbery 
 among the nobility. They have secured long 
 ago their position. They are not striving to be 
 in the public eye; they are in the public eye 
 without any striving. 
 
 * * * 
 
 In England it is the middle class — the imita- 
 tors, the would-be aristocracy, what the French 
 call "les poseurs" — who thrust every day snob- 
 bery in your face. Of course, the women are 
 the greatest sinners in this respect — they it is 
 who in every land divide up society into "sets" 
 and curse social life with either "small talk" or 
 scandal. When you get a noble woman, really 
 intellectual and yet unassuming, she is verily 
 an altar before which to worship, but perhaps 
 the greatest weakness in the wh,)le feminine 
 make-up is that she is so given to playing a role 
 — that sh» rarely is what she seems. 
 
 »"4 
 
 
Man is conceited, but woman is vain, and 
 herein lies the difference between the twain. 
 Did you ever observe two women, ambitious to 
 appear other than they are, become acquainted 
 for the first time? It runs something; like this : 
 "I'm delighted to meet you, Mrs. Blank. So 
 you're from Detroit? My husband is well ac- 
 quainted there. By the way, do you know 
 
 Colonel ? He's the /ice-president of the 
 
 Michigan Central, and a great friend of ex- 
 President Roosevelt. When the ex-President 
 goes to Detroit, he always stays with him." 
 "No, I am not acquainted with him, but I have 
 a friend who knows him well. By the way, are 
 you acquainted in Chicago? Do you know 
 
 Judge , who is spoken of as President 
 
 Taft's choice for the vacancy in the Supreme 
 Court?" , . . 
 
 This is assuredly a species of snobbery and 
 a species very common. Then we have intel- 
 lectual snobbery — the desire to appe.ir learned. 
 Look to-dpy at the rush that is made to appear 
 in portrait in the papers, all of which is a vulgar 
 thirst for notoriety, and this in itself is of the 
 very breath and life of veritable snobbery. 
 
 Why, a few little girls cannot graduate in 
 some elementary school, having acquired the 
 rudiments of spelling, arithmetic and geog- 
 raphy, but their friends move heaven and earth 
 
 "S 
 
— and the editors, to get their photos in the 
 papers. Time was when appearing in portrait 
 with a "write up" in a paper signified distin- 
 guished merit — in authorship, scholarship, art 
 or philanthropy, but that time has passed and 
 real merit now, instead of being distinguished, 
 has become mediocrized — vulgarized. An^ all 
 this is snobbery. * * * 
 
 I must confess that I have found less snob- 
 bery in France than in any other country in the 
 world. The Frenchman is not without his 
 faults, but snobbery is certainly not one of them. 
 Charge him with artificiality and insincerity in 
 his courtesy and politeness if you will, you can- 
 not charge him with being a snob. I think the 
 reason for this is found in the {act that your 
 Frenchman appreciates too well values and real 
 merit to countenance sham even for a moment. 
 Of course, under the republic, France has in 
 this respect degenerated, and the conferring of 
 the Legion of Honor has no longer the value 
 it used to have in the beauteous land of St. 
 Genevieve. * » » 
 
 Next to England, Prussia in Germany has the 
 most snobbery in the world. The Rhinelanders 
 and the Bavarians are devoid of it. They are 
 too — what the Germans call "gemuethlich" — 
 amiable to be snobbish, but the Prussian — 
 whew I "stolz," "kalt" — overbearing. It is said 
 that an Englishman dearly loves a lord — yes, 
 and a German dearly loves a title. 
 Il6 
 
AS TO FAD^ 
 
 71 WORD with my readers about "fads." As- 
 suredly there is an abundance of them in 
 this our day. I suppose they always existed, but 
 the craze for novelty ever grows stronger and 
 normal life and living, normal points of view 
 normal thought, normal atmosphere, seem to 
 be yielding more and more to the erratic and 
 ab.iorma . thus creating an unhealthy condi- 
 tion of life. 
 
 * • » 
 
 Could we, however, go back to the days of 
 the Caesars we would find that under Roman 
 skies civilization had its fads, and leaders of 
 fads. The world has had and always will have 
 characters neither well poised nor normal, no 
 matter under what star they may happen to be 
 born. The hobble skirt and the merry widow 
 headgear were no doubt unknown to Fulvia and 
 Agrippina, but these Roman matrons, too, had 
 their fashion fads. 
 
 We sometimes blame women for being more 
 given to fads than men, but it is largely a mat- 
 ter of temperament. Then, too, while the char- 
 acter of woman has changed less through the 
 centuries than that of man, the adventitious in 
 
 "7 
 

 I n 
 
 her nature has undergone greater changes. It 
 you study the "modes" of the last five centuries 
 you will see that, save in knee-breeches, buck- 
 led shoes and the time-honored ruffles — of 
 course not forgetting wigs — man's attire has 
 been largely constant. 
 
 * « * 
 
 But the case is not so with woman. Every 
 half century — nay, quarter century — has com- 
 pletely transformed her, as set forth in the fash- 
 ion plates. Yet a good reason can be given 
 for this. The artistic in woman is pronounced, 
 while in man it is only accidental. A few men 
 study good taste in dress, while woman ever 
 reads its volume from cover to cover. Of 
 course there are exceptions, but generally 
 speaking a woman short in stature and great in 
 longitude knows better than to gown in an equa- 
 torial check so loud that it may be heard and 
 seen across the street. 
 
 * « * 
 
 Perhaps woman is more erratic in her fads in 
 art than in anything else. She will study Jap- 
 anese art, whose inspiring conception is as full 
 of splendor as sunbeams and no more coherent, 
 while she knows absolutely nothing of Christian 
 art as developed through the Byzantine, the 
 Renaissance or modern school. I once saw an 
 audience of women entertained by a Japanese 
 lecturer, his subject being Japanese Art, and 
 
 Il8 
 
whose little barking voice could not be heard 
 beyond the third row of seats, and I would be 
 willing to wager a Klondike mine that not a 
 woman present at the lecture could give the 
 names of five great Italian painters. They v/nre 
 simply chasing a fad. 
 
 • * • 
 
 It may be accepted as a certainty that every- 
 thing that departs from the normal— in life, lit- 
 erature or art— is an injury to character develop- 
 ment. So all women of our day who forget the 
 purposes of true womanhood really retard the 
 progress of our race. The same applies to men. 
 Your effeminate man puts back the dial hands 
 of civilization and progress. 
 
 * * • 
 
 If we could only put these faddists in straight 
 jackets as motley-colored as their views, and 
 keep them confined in a comer of God's earth 
 where they would not "stain the white radiance 
 of eternity," giving them rair'jow toys to play 
 with and cheap mirrors to rellect their own 
 vanity, why, then, civilization would not suffer. 
 The dreams of poets would soon be realized, 
 for the true ideals of the soul, not warped bv 
 faddists, would find expression in our lives and 
 would thereby link the truth and beauty of this 
 earth to the sp'-ndor of heaven. 
 
 119 
 
SOME CUSTOMS 
 
 NO one who has traveled to any extent in the 
 various countries of Europe but must 
 have noticed what marked difference exists in 
 the customs of the different peoples. These cus- 
 toms have grown out of the life of the people 
 and are really a very part of it. For instance.the 
 Carnival celebration preceding Ash Wednesday 
 is now so fixed in the life of the people of Ger- 
 many and France and Austria that no order of 
 either Ch-irch or State would avail in its repeal 
 or abandonment. « « * 
 
 Sometimes this Carnival celebration leads to 
 much abuse, as in Germany at Cologne and 
 Munich. Too much license is permitted and 
 revelry gets the better of sound sense and 
 morality. There is still something of the untam- 
 able in every one and, if all restraint is thrown 
 off even for three Carnival days, human nature 
 — poor human nature — suffers. Nothing shows 
 more the poise of character than the wisdom 
 that guides youth across these Carnival days. 
 * * * 
 
 Europe is a very old continent and it has all 
 the characteristics of old age. It is courteous, 
 
 lao 
 
 I , I 
 
seriom, thoughtful, "Jull ol wise sawa and mod- 
 ern initances," at Shakespeare would say. It 
 likes repose — sumptuous living, court splendors, 
 royal etiquette, full dress and courtly ipithet. 
 But it has, too, something of decreptitude in 
 its step, a hollowness and squeak in its voice, 
 wrinkles in its ly-ighter and semblance in its 
 tears. , , , 
 
 You will not find in Europe the rich optimism 
 of America. It has lost long ago the sweet 
 visions of youth. But it is full of wisdom— "the 
 wisdom of a thousand years is in its eyes." Yet 
 we love America better because of its mistakes. 
 They are the mistakes of youth. They are mis- 
 takes of the head, not of the heart. America is 
 a full-grown boy— rich in the promise of man- 
 hood, clear in spiritual vision, large in the char- 
 ity of the soul. « , « 
 
 European politeness is called by some "four- 
 flushing" or "bluffing." It is true it is often 
 not real. But what of that ? Is all our friend- 
 ship in America real ? How much of it around 
 us has not a business ring to it ? Could we but 
 understand fully the motive behind some of it, 
 we would perhaps cease designating European 
 politeness "four-flushing." The truth is sincerity 
 belongs to the individual and not to a race or 
 country or continent. 
 
To > traveler touring Europe one of the most 
 •triking thing! is how universally obUins the 
 habit of smoking. Europe seems to be but one 
 great pipe from Amsterdam to Naples. There 
 is scarcely an exception to this. Belgium and 
 Holland are clouded with smoke — perhaps this 
 is why their painters excel in cloud eflFects. 
 Smoking is to the Belgian what snuffing is to 
 the Frenchman. * * * 
 
 While traveling in a compartment in Europe 
 —though some of these compartments, as in 
 America, are specially set aside for smoking— 
 it is a common thing for a gentleman in a com- 
 partment occupied by ladies to pull out a cigar 
 and, striking a match, bow with all the address 
 of a true courtier, and, while the match is on its 
 way to meet the end of the cigar, ask of the 
 ladies "permission" for his indulgence. 
 * • * 
 
 To a man from the New World here across 
 the Atlantic this request on the part of the 
 smoker, after he has already almost begun 
 action, seems indeed humorous. But I sup- 
 pose it is all right in Europe. The humorous 
 and ridiculous point of view in Europe and 
 America is quite different, and as U g as the 
 ladies of Europe consider it all right we have 
 no right to complain. It is Old World form 
 and courtesy and I suppose quite correct. 
 
SOME MORE CUSTOMS 
 
 11 OW much we are slaves to customs is 
 realized by any one who has traveled 
 and observed. What is regrarded as good form 
 and good manners, for instance, among the 
 Latin races is oflon a violation of jyood form 
 and good manners among English and Teu- 
 tonic races. Even our own country, here in the 
 New World, is sharply diflFerentiated from 
 Europe in many of its social customs. Nothing 
 is more amusing here in America than the ab- 
 horrence with which many American women 
 view the habit of smoking among men, as if it 
 were a deadly and unpardonable sin, forgiven 
 neither in this world nor in the world ic come. 
 
 Not long ago, for insUnce, I heard two 
 Chicago young ladies criticise severely a young 
 man because he used tobacco, declaring that 
 it was a habit unbecoming a well bred man, 
 and, while thus pronouncing judgment on the 
 young man, they twisted and wallowed in their 
 mouth a supply of Zeno's gum that would make 
 
 133 
 
any corner of Europe prick up its ears and 
 look aghast. And yet they thought they were 
 models of good breeding and good form. 
 
 In this respect a story is told of a Chicago 
 girl — South Side one — who died, and, when St. 
 Peter unbarred the portal and let her into the 
 pearly street, she at once looked around for 
 Zeno's gum-slot and, not finding it, was heard 
 to exclaim: "Well, Paradise is a pretty dull 
 place without Zeno's gum-slot! I guess I'll 
 hie back to Chicago, where I can see the Cubs 
 and White Sox play, and chew gum in the pri- 
 vate box of any theater. These Seraphim are 
 behind the times." , , , 
 
 Of course, ardent gum-chewers hold that the 
 habit prevailed in ancient days — that gum- 
 chewing was a common thing in old Roman 
 homes in the time of Cicero and Caesar, and 
 that in the days of Fulvia and Agrippina gum- 
 chewing was a great prevention of gossiping, 
 the women being so busy kneading the gum 
 under their tongue that they had no time to 
 devote to their neighbors' hobble skirts. In- 
 deed, we have some proof of this in the play of 
 Julius Caesar, where Cassius says to Brutus, 
 "Brutus, chew upon this." 
 
 124 
 
Speaking of sirokirqr reminds me that in 
 several countries t'.t :-.en smoke ar .und the 
 table, in the prese ce o( the Ia<i 'S, at the end 
 of the meal. I ha ^ seen this <J>ne in Mexico, 
 and the women did i • • s-cm at all shocked. 
 I can also never understand why here in Amer- 
 ica in a public elevator, when a woman enters, 
 the men should uncover their heads— and this, 
 too, at a risk of getting a bad cold. Men walk 
 around the office of a hotel frequently with 
 their hats on ; why should they take them off 
 in a public elevator? Simply because it is the 
 
 custom. 
 
 * * * 
 
 The first time I attended a ball or dancing 
 party in Germany I was very much struck with 
 certain German customs that prevailed. For in- 
 stance, when a young man enters the room, hav- 
 ing divested himself of his coat, hat and gloves, 
 he goes around the room and introduces him- 
 self, announcing himself with a bow nearly akin 
 to an Oriental salaam. At first it seemed 
 laughable, but after all it is merely custom and 
 is quite as sensible as our method of intro- 
 ducing a new arrival. 
 
 The habit of minding one's own business 
 prevails a good deal more in Europe than in 
 America. This, I think, arises from the spirit 
 
 125 
 
of monarchial government. In a democracy, 
 where everybody is as good as everybody else, 
 and better, the sense of propriety is often for- 
 gotten. We think so much of ourselves and 
 so little of the importance and standing of 
 others that we often assume that mere citizen- 
 ship gives us the right to interfere in and crit- 
 icise matters entirely outside of the orbit of 
 our duty or social surrounding. Of course this 
 criticism, too, has its value, but it sometimes 
 leads to unpleasantness, to say the least. 
 
 :' t ' 
 
 126 
 
THE STAGE AND TliE 
 READING DESK 
 
i 
 
 I i . i . 
 
SOME MEMORIES OF GREAT 
 ACTORS 
 
 I DESIRE to chat to-day with my readers on 
 tor. 'j^'"^'"'' °f "'«= *^age and some of the ac- 
 tors I have seen during the past thirty years. 
 
 that r.""' ",*'" ^ ^'"'^'"bered, has said 
 that all the world is a stage, and some bright 
 
 ■ * * * 
 
 I must make confession to my readers that to 
 me, smce my very boyhood, the theater has 
 been a passion, ,or I have always loved to see 
 hfe unfold .tself before me in its complex form 
 I have loved to see plot dev.:oping and char- 
 acter advancing and th. fatalism of passion 
 sweeping actor and actress along to defeat and 
 
 et?orsh;kia\r"'-'-^^--''^^^^ 
 
 * * * 
 The great tragedies of Shakespeare! What 
 do they not recall I To me they conjure up the 
 great names that have added lustre to the stage 
 during the past three decades of yearr Mv first 
 mtroduction to Shakespeare was through tJie 
 
 ' 139 
 
tragedy of "Othello," one of the most periectly 
 constructed, as to its technique, of all Shake- 
 speare's dramas. I was a boy at the time, of 
 some fifteen or sixteen years of age, in attend- 
 ance at St. Michael's College, Toronto. Our 
 academic school year was ended. We had 
 played under the able direction of Father Fer- 
 guson in the open court of the college yard, 
 studded with its whispering pines. Cardinal 
 Wiseman's, "Hidden Gem," a drama of the early 
 Christian centuries, and all prizes and accessits 
 had been awarded. We were at last free; 
 though, to be just to the good Basilian Fathers 
 who had and have now charge of St. Michael's 
 College, the spirit of discipline was extremely 
 kind but firm. No more tender-hearted and 
 kindly man ever vratched over the welfare of a 
 college of boys than was Father Vincent, the 
 then superior. Blessed be his beautiful 
 memory! * • * 
 
 I remember, as if it were but yesterday, that 
 T. C. King, an English actor of eminence, who 
 had fallen somewhat fro:ii dramatic grace 
 through a personal weakness, was occupying 
 the boards just then in the only theater there 
 was in Toronto, situated on King Street. The 
 play for the evening was "Othello," and several 
 of the college boys, the writer included, resolved 
 to take it in. This meant that we could not get 
 
 130 
 
back to our college dormitory that night till 
 nearly midnight. But what of that I Was not 
 the academic year closed, and a plenary indul- 
 gence was alwaj. the order for that evening 
 Mill, we were apprehensive that the unhallowed 
 hour of our arrival at the college "when church- 
 yards yawn" would be detected. We got in 
 however, and I have forgotten just now how,' 
 but two iron-cIad stairways were hard to climb 
 without arousing from slumber the professors 
 in the rooms hard by. We immediately unshod, 
 
 h?L ,f^ ';"''"'"' "''* ^°'" '" the burning 
 bush, the place where we stood was holy 
 ground, but because our boots on the stairway 
 
 to our couches. It was all over. 
 
 Speaking of Shakespeare's tragedies, I have 
 seen but four really great actors interoret them 
 Now of course, this excludes many other tal- 
 ented actors whom I cannot classify under the 
 title great." The names of the four preat 
 actors are: Edwin Booth, Barry Sullivan, Sal- 
 vini and Sir Henry Irving. Each of these four 
 
 other actors. It is doubtful if Hamlet ever had 
 be «l' '"f '<P,r '*' "'='" ^°°"'- The same may 
 OrtM^ ^"?"'-" '" ^'^^""^ "I' °' Salvini in 
 Othello, and Irving in Shylock. All four were 
 
 131 
 

 
 superb — matchless in these individual rotes. 
 The finest voice I ever heard on the stage was 
 that of Booth. I hear him yet in reply to Polo- 
 nius' question: "What do you read, my lord?" 
 run the vocal scale with the reply, "Words, 
 words, words." « « » 
 
 From the moment Barry Sullivan stepped 
 upon the stage uUering the soliloquy. 
 
 "Now is the winter of our discontent 
 Made glorious summer by this son of York," 
 
 you thought of nothing but this crafty, plotting, 
 kingly villain, Richard III. At the close of the 
 play the fencing bout on Bosworth field with 
 the Earl of Richmond was so fine a duel, so full 
 of the issue of fate, that it alone was worth the 
 theater admission. I do not think that Sullivan 
 had any other great play, at least I have never 
 heard of one. I should think he would have 
 made a great lago, though, of course, Richard 
 III and lago are distinctly two different iy.s 
 of villains. If we compare Richard and lu^o, 
 the latter has the more of mind, but is the baser 
 villain. Richard destroys others to raise him- 
 self, and destroys them with a speedy death, 
 while on the other hand lago destroys others, 
 as if, in their destruction alone, he had a suffi- 
 cient end — he destroys deliberately and care- 
 fully and in every way with malice aforethought. 
 
 132 
 
SOME ACTRESSES 
 
 *|*HE presence in u ir city last week of the 
 great English actress, Ellen Terrv, recalls 
 to my mind some of the charming wom^n whom 
 I have heard interpret Shakespeare during the 
 past thirty years. Now, after manv years, 
 their portraits hang on memory's walls, as if 
 
 :he7ootiSts'"'"';\"t ""^' ''°°' ''''°" 
 
 I have seen so many Opheli.-is, Lady Mac- 
 beths, Portias and Juliets that in some cases 
 their characteristics are somewhat confused 
 One thing is quite certain and clear in my mind, 
 however, and that is that Adelaide Neilson was 
 M^ ^f f Rosalind of the last half century 
 Mary Anderson made a very acceptable Rosa- 
 Imd, but to me this beautiful Kentuckian was 
 at her best m such a churacter as Parthenia in 
 Ingomar. As to the character of Juliet, she 
 was too large for the Verona heroine, who was 
 fourteen at Lammastide. 
 
 * * * 
 
 Then I doubt again if there was enough of 
 
 tj?T^ u^ '?' '" ^"y Anderson to repre- 
 sent fully the character of the daughter of the 
 
 '33 
 
I r< 
 
 Capulets. She h«d (ar more ot that fine poiie 
 found in Portia and hardly enough of the ban- 
 teringr abandon for a Rosalind. She made a bet- 
 ter Ophelia of the deep and silent heart. I am 
 not indeed surprised that Mary Anderson quit 
 the stage for the quiet retirement of home. She 
 always impressed one as possessing the very 
 virtues that would dower the fireside and a 
 good man's heart with the most perfect gifts 
 of a woman. * * * 
 
 It was not, by the way, in tender and emo- 
 tional parts that Mary Anderson was greatest, 
 but rather in heroic and sublime parts, for her 
 soul, while it vib. utrd also with emotion, meas- 
 ured up to its .'all hi.ght only in passages where 
 the strength of true womanhood was enlisted. 
 In her retirement from the stage Mary Ander- 
 son added to the home her best and rarest gifts 
 —a soul ennobled with the precious virtues of a 
 true woman. * * • 
 
 In the springtide and early summer of her 
 stage work Julia Marlowe made an admirable 
 Juliet, albeit she has some striking mannerisms, 
 especially in the balcony scene. But Julia Mar- 
 lowe can flood the sUge with love, so that 
 even grey beards sigh and thiak for the 
 moment that they are young again. She cre- 
 ates for you the atmosphere and the back- 
 ground — you are in Verona under Italian 
 
 134 
 
skies and scale the garden wall with Romeo 
 as he utters the words, "He jests at scars who 
 never felt a wound.". 
 
 As for the Udy Macbeths, why, there are 
 so m.-iny conceptions of the character that it is 
 difficult to say who has been the greatest Udy 
 Macbeth of the past thirty years. CTiarlotte 
 J-ushman made one of the strongest Lady Mac- 
 beths ever seen on the American stage. 
 * * • 
 The Hungarian actress Janauschek gave also 
 a very fine presentation of this character 
 though hardly our accepted Lady Macbeth! 
 Mrs. Bowers represented the physically frail 
 Udy Macbeth with tremendous mental force 
 ener^ and will-power, while Janauschek gave 
 you the idea that Udy Macbeth was physically 
 strong and impressive. 
 
 Of course, no one can well ever forget the 
 Portia of Ellen Terry. Portia is my favorite 
 among the women of Shakespeare, though I 
 notice that Ellen Terry has declared in favor of 
 Imogen. But I think Portia is the finest model 
 for every girl who would wish to keep good bal- 
 ance between head and heart, and, in my opin- 
 ion, it IS this beautiful adjustment of head and 
 heart that after all makes for the true and high- 
 est type of womanhood. 
 
 I3S 
 
BEHIND THE READING DESK 
 
 ^pO-DAY I wish to discuss some cf tht merits 
 * of the great public readers or, if you will, 
 elocutionists, whom it has been my privilege to 
 hear during the past thirty years. This is a 
 form of intellectual entertainment which ob- 
 tains very little in Europe. It has been and 
 indeed is yet very popular in America. In the 
 past great readers, such as were Bellew, Mrs. 
 Siddons, Professor Churchill and VandenhoflF, 
 were always sure of large and appreciative audi- 
 ences. Such appreciation certainly registers in- 
 tellectual taste. I fear, however, that the taste 
 for high-class music as a form of entertainment 
 has not yet become fixed in our land, and, while 
 we willingly go to parks and halls to hear great 
 orchestras, we are drawn there not so much by 
 the music as by the desire of relaxation and the 
 novelty of an assembled crowd. 
 * * * 
 
 The first great reader whom it was my priv- 
 ilege to hear was Mrs. Siddons. Those who 
 have heard her will remember that she was a 
 queenly woman, of that fine and delicate mould 
 
 136 
 
mi^M K ^* '^"'*'" °' P»'"*«"- She had what 
 m^ght be de^gnated a Mr.. Siddon. voice of 
 very fine t.mbre. musical to an extraordinary 
 degree and capable o, .he mo., delica.e .hading' 
 Her .ran.,t,on, from humor .o pa.ho. clearly 
 evidenced how fully her ,oul wa. her ownTnd 
 wha. ready command .he had over her every 
 feehng. She could be very drama.ic. .hour? 
 do no. .hmk .ha. ,he drama.ic wa. the highe, 
 
 scene from ^^acbe.h" was good, a. were al.o 
 Tennyson's "Revenge." bu. I much preferred 
 
 Fa.her Ph.r, Collec.ion." Hers was, indeed, a 
 charmjng personality, and i. may be said of her 
 
 ■nL L'^^T'^ " ^"^'""^ '^-^ '"ding?desk 
 
 There have been grea.er readers than Mrs 
 
 S.ddons, but few who added to rare gif?s such 
 
 beauty and at.ractivenes. of womanhood 
 
 * » » 
 
 Mpr- vp,rs ago there passed before New 
 
 r!\' ': '• '^"? ""^ brilliancy of a meteor a 
 
 . , .» „.„ .,,,ona| refinement and artistic 
 
 n- a ' elford, bom in Dublin, Ireland. 
 
 Wher^e'^h^ "^"""'f^^' '^e English universities. 
 Where he received his elocutionary traininir I 
 know not, but he had a great repertory of refd 
 ings that touched and induded weU-n^h UerJ 
 thing m the whole range of English ifterlture. 
 
 137 
 
He was an excellent interpreter of Dickens, and 
 could not be surpassed in such a reading as 
 "Boots at Holly Tree Inn." He possessed some 
 of the same subtle vocal witchery as Mrs. Sid- 
 dons, added to the fact that his was a more 
 comprehensive repertory. 
 
 I; 
 
 Those who have heard the late Professor 
 Riddle of Harvard University recognize full 
 well where his strength lay. Professor Riddle 
 was known as an admirable interpreter of the 
 comedies of Shakespeare. In such light pastoral 
 plays as a "Midsummer Night's Dream" and 
 "As You Like It," Professor Riddle had a won- 
 derful power of creating with his voice the very 
 atmosphere of the play and presenting most viv- 
 idly to your eye each character clearly defined. 
 I have never heard Southey's "How the Waters 
 Come Down at Lodore" read better than by 
 Professor Riddle. , , « 
 
 A great reader, as modest as he is gifted, is 
 Professor Cumnock of Northwestern Univer- 
 sity, Evanston, 111. His versatility is wonderful. 
 I have heard him in Shakespeare, Dickens, 
 Thackeray, Browning, Tennyson, Longfellow, 
 Burns, the Irish poets of the lighter vein, such 
 as Allingham and Lover, Scotch ballad writers, 
 such as Aytoun, and I regard him as very strong 
 
 138 
 
"me exaltation, the purest ecstatic joy or deeo- 
 est sorrow of the soul. ^^ 
 
 • * * 
 
 Ir;!!' 'r*"^ *''°"8^ '" Scotch readings and his 
 Irish characterization is also verv good r 
 have heard more finished readers than Profes- 
 sor Cumnock, bat I have never yet met a vocal 
 t« r.t'"u°' "'*"»"' '^ho can, s^to speaf 
 
 clin« tr?h °' ^"'"''°"' " "°* " f=«'^*t- He 
 cimgs to the great masters in prose and verse 
 and ,s satisfied to lay bare the soul of great mas-' 
 terpieces which have held and will hold Te r 
 place for all time. Professor Cumnock is als^ 
 no only a great reader, but a grearteacher ^ 
 we and much of his success ^efirthe fa" 
 that he always in all his work inspires and exalts 
 
 »39 
 
NATURE 
 

CONCERNING MOUNTAINS 
 
 I^ET me chat to-day with my readers about 
 God s great altars— the mountains of the 
 worI(t-.hefore which bows the heart of nature 
 full of tiie homage born of rever-nce and truth 
 1 have seen something of the Swiss Alps, the 
 French Alps, the Bavarian Alps, but in sublim- 
 ity and grandeur they do not measure up to the 
 Canadian Rockies. 
 
 I shall never forget a summer I once spent 
 m the Canadian Rockies at Banff, where is 
 established the Canadian National Park This 
 IS one of the most delightful spots in the world 
 Here as in Shakespeare's Forest of Arden, you 
 get close to nature and live a truly idyllic life 
 Around you rise in majesty and awe the snow- 
 capped mountains, some to the height of twelve 
 thousand feet. 
 
 • • » 
 
 Unless you have lived among mountains for 
 some time, you will be greatly deceived in the 
 matter of distance. It is like being in a country 
 where the air is very light and rare, as, for in- 
 stance, in Colorado. I have seen tourists come 
 
 143 
 
to Banff and feel equal to reaching the summit 
 of everything in sight. After a few days, how- 
 ever, they lost their ambition somewhat. 
 • * * 
 I remember distinctly a party of three having 
 reached Banff one evening, and registered at 
 Wright's Hotel at the source of the Sulphur 
 Springs, a very good hostelry, where our party 
 was suying, and after a few eriquines they arose 
 next morning at daybreak and having partaken 
 of a hasty breakfast, sUrted out mounUin- 
 climbing. * « • 
 
 They evidently had no idea of the height of 
 a mountain or the disUnce from its base. The 
 three mounUin-climbers returned m the eve- 
 ning hatless, shoeless and I was going to say 
 almost breathless. They had lost their beanngs 
 _« very common thing m climbing a moun- 
 tain-and had wandered at random for hours, 
 rending their garments and pausing to discover 
 if they had reached any definite pomt in the 
 topography of the mountain. 
 » * • 
 Mountains are the sublimest creations that 
 ever came from the hand of God. No man can 
 sund at their base and doubt the existence of 
 God. If he does faith will smite his brow and 
 his heart will immediately utter 'Credo I 1 
 
 144 
 
 11 il 
 
believe I" And then the feeling that the majesty 
 of God is about you, as eventide sinks down 
 upon each hoary summit, aad dwells with you 
 
 in the valley I « « « 
 
 I had a good taste of mountain climbing once 
 while I was a student at Grenoble University, 
 at the foot of the Alps in France, in the prov- 
 ince of Dauphiny. We started out one morning, 
 a party of eighty students, men and women, to 
 climb one of the peaks of the Alps, and our task 
 continued till noonday. When, however, we 
 reached the summit, the view before us repaid 
 well our struggle and toil. 
 
 4i « * 
 
 In the distance could be seen Mount Blanc, 
 of which Coleridge, the Ejiglish poet, writes, 
 and yet Mount Blanc must have been at least 
 eighty or one hundred miles from us. We all 
 took our luncheons with us and at noontide re- 
 freshed and revived ourselves, when we reached 
 the summit of the mountain. Of course wine 
 was the order of the day for drinking. I remem- 
 ber this very well, for owing to a misstep I lost 
 m-- bottle, which went rolling down the moun- 
 tain side, causing huge merriment to the party. 
 I believe, however, it was an inferior brand of 
 wine and even now this consoles me. 
 
 HS 
 
AS SEEN THROUGH MEMORY 
 
 1SIT this evening wrapt in the memory of 
 years agone. The fields, the orchard and 
 the winding lane stretch on and on, and the pic- 
 ture conjures up a boyhood spent where the fra- 
 grance of the wild flowers filled the air with an 
 aroma found only where the heart of nature 
 nestles behind the woods and the hills. 
 * » * 
 It is a poet's hour. Lazily the cattle lin- 
 ger in the marsh meadow-lands. Twilight has 
 wrapped its mantle around the cold shoulders 
 of day and the voice of the plowman is heard on 
 the hillside, urging on his wearied steeds as they 
 reluctantly traverse the furrow and hope for an 
 early releasement at the gate. 
 
 How small, indeed, is the city when compared 
 with the great temple of the country ! It is the 
 English poet Cowper who says "Man made the 
 city, but God made the country." And so in- 
 deed it is. These great aisles of God that 
 stretch across the verdant fields, canopied with 
 the splendor of the sky and full of its radiant 
 
 146 
 
mystery, are they not the playground of man— 
 the recreation hall of the human heart, where 
 light and love clasp hands and woo the en- 
 chanted hours? 
 
 * « « 
 
 Yet all this splendor of the fields is but noth- 
 ing when compared to the splendor of the soul, 
 as It broods on the things of God and transfig- 
 ures as with a finger of magic the plain illusions 
 of the senses into the deep and pregnant things 
 of the soul. The water at Cana is changed into 
 red, red wine. ^ 
 
 But it is through the prism of memory that 
 ghnt and glow the ripened rays that stream 
 from those far-oflF days, when childhood felt 
 the warm clasp of maternal love and the sacred 
 hour of benediction was ushered in in prayer 
 and Peace. As we travel inland the shore and 
 Its white sails are soon lost to view. 
 
 Now what shall we carry away from these 
 treasures of memory epics of our morns? 
 Standing upon the white threshold of this 
 goodly temple of our youth, we see rise around 
 us the early dreams and ambitions of our soul. 
 Since then they have been translated into fact. 
 On the one side stands our guardian angel, on 
 the other our mother. They are both filled with 
 anxious care, for their concern is our eternal 
 peace and welfare. 
 
 147 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Dedication , 
 
 Foreword , 
 
 Education . 
 
 Certain Educational Deficiencies 9 
 
 Catholic and Secular Colleges Contrasted 13 
 
 Some European Universities 17 
 
 Voyaging to Europe and Tipping 31 
 
 Voyaging to Europe 23 
 
 On Tipping ^ 
 
 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 31 
 
 The Poet Longfellow ; . . , 33 
 
 Languages, Magazines and Criticism 39 
 
 The English Language 41 
 
 A Word About Langu-ges 46 
 
 Concerning Composition 52 
 
 As to Magazines 57 
 
 Critics and Criticism 60 
 
 Art 65 
 
 Something About Art 67 
 
 Art and its Times 71 
 
 149 
 
Woman: Her Education and Marriage.. 75 
 
 Concerning Woman 77 
 
 Some Marriage Cuitomi 81 
 
 Government 8$ 
 
 Forms of Government 87 
 
 Literature 9> 
 
 Lyric Poetry 93 
 
 The True Poet 96 
 
 The Technique of Poetry 99 
 
 Some Irish Authors 103 
 
 A Word About Translations 106 
 
 Snobs, Fads and Customs '" 
 
 As to Snobs and Snobbery 113 
 
 As to Fads "7 
 
 Some Customs !*> 
 
 Some More Customs "3 
 
 The Stage and the Reading Desk 127 
 
 Some Memories of Great Actors 129 
 
 Some Actresses '33 
 
 Behind the Reading Desk 136 
 
 Nature I4« 
 
 Concerning Mountains I43 
 
 As Seen Inrough Memory 146 
 
 150