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Transcript of Broom 12 Agustus 1916
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8/19/2019 Broom 12 Agustus 1916
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BRUNO'S
WEEKLY
Coulton
Waugh
The contents include:
Octave
Mirbeau—A Portrait
Submarine
Vessels
Herbert
Beerbohm
Tree —Is He
an
Artist?
Th e
Governor's
Poodle
100
Dollars
for the
Story of
Your
Marriage
A Contest for
Married
People
EDITED
BY
GUIDO
BRUNO
IN
HIS
GARRET
ON
WASHINGTON
SQUARE
Five Cents
August
12th ,
1916
W .
A
G.
-
8/19/2019 Broom 12 Agustus 1916
2/20
Copyr ight by
Guide
Bruno,
916.
Original
mutter,
Mddifl«
M
drowisgt,
am y
not
bis
reproduced
without
permission
of
Guide
Brum;
but that
pemuMioo
nasy
be wmmed
if credit
m aire®
to
authsf
an d
Bruno's
Weekly.
One
Hundred
Dollars
for
the
Story
of
Your
Marriage
Bruno's
Weekly
will
p y
one
hundred
dollars fo r
the best
story
setting
forth
why
and ho w
you
were
mai*rscd.
We
don't
want
literary masterpieces
or
extraordinary
stories of
adven-
ture.
But
there
is
a
lot of
romance
and
fragrance
about those
days
when
you
tw o
met.
You
know
yo u
like
to
recall
those
times
even
if
everything
has
changed
since.
Write
down
your
story
just
as
simply
as
it
happened.
We
shall
not
use
your
name
if
you
do
no t
wish
us
to
do
so.
There
is
no
better
Action
than the
one Fate writes
upon
the
pages
of
our
lives.
We know
your
story
will be
enjoyed by
lots of
others.
Write
it down
to-day
and
address
it
to
the
Contest
Editor,
Bruno's
WeeMy,
58
Washington
Square,
New
York
City.
Every
week
those
stories
which
are
printed
will
be
paid
fo r
at
space
rates.
The
contest
will
close
on
October
Ist,
1916,
and the
stories
should
be
limited
to
three
hundred words.
Detailed
conditions
of the
.•
j
marriage
story
contest
will
be
mailed
to
you upon
request
-
8/19/2019 Broom 12 Agustus 1916
3/20
BRUNO'S
WEEKLY
Edited
by
Guido
Bruno
in
His
Garret
on
Washington
Square
After
Verlaine
A
ROUND
were
all the
roses
red,
The
ivy
all
around
was
black.
Dear,
so
thou
only
move
thine
head ,
Shall
all
mine old
despai rs
awake
Too
blue, too
tender
was
the
sky,
The air
too
soft,
too
green
the
sea.
Always
fear,
know
not
why,
Some
lamentable
flight
from thee.
I
am
so tired
of
hol ly-sprays
And
weary
of
the
bright
box-tree,
Of
all the endless
country
ways;
Of
everything
alas
save
thee.
Ernest Dowson.
Submarine
Vessels
A
Historical
Survey
IT is
hard
to
say,
at
this late
day,
where
man
got
the idea
of
a
submarine vessel
from.
It
may
have been
sug-
gested
to
him
by
that leviathan of
the
deep,
the
whale,
which,
although
a warm-blooded
mammal,
is able
to
re-
main under
water
for
long periods.
Or
perhaps
its
evolution
is
traceable
to
the
human
diver,
whose
art
is
a world-old
one.
It
is more
than
likely,
however,
that
the
submarine
vessel
owes
its
origin,
like
all
other
great
inventions, solely
to
necessity—the
necessity
of
every
mari-
time
country
is
under
of
protecting
itself from armed in-
vasion
at
sea.
Be
this
as
it
may,
it
is
remarkable tha t from
a
very
early
period
the brain of
man
has
been
incessant ly
at
work
devising
submarine
boats
—a
period
far
antedating Jules
Verne's
imaginary Nautilus,
whose terrible destructive-
ness
he
so
entertainingly
described
in his
Twenty
Thousand
Leagues
under the Sea. Indeed
as far back
as 332 B.C.
something
of the
sort
was
used and
with
some
success
by
Alexander
the
Great
at
the
siege
of
Tyre;
and
it is
common
that from time
immemorial
divers,
with
almost fish-like
qualities,
have
trod
the
ocean
bed
gathering
pearls
and
sponges.
That
Cleopatra
em-
ployed
divers is
a
matter
of
history.
Thus
Shakespeare,
to
cite
one
authority:
Charmian. 'Twas
merry
when
You
wager'd
on
his
angling;
when
your
diver
Did
hang
a
salt-fish
on
his
hook,
which he
With
fervency
drew
up.
Cleopatra.
That time
—O
times
I
laugh'd
him
out
of
patience
These
primitive
methods of
submarine
navigation
were
at
last
improved
upon;
but
it
was
not
until A.
D.
1150
Copyright
*9*6,
by
Guido
Bruno
that
we
find
any
recorded
us e
of submarine
vessels
in
war.
In
that
period,
so
it
is related
by
an
Arabian
historian,
a
diver
entered Ptolemais
during
a
siege by
means
of
a
submarine
apparatus.
Then
nearly
400
years
passed,
and
Toledo, Spain,
produced
one
in
1538;
and
in
1588
came
Bourne's
plunging
apparatus.
Other
attempts
at
sub-
marine
navigation
quickly
followed;
but the
first
real
submarine boat was
invented in
1620
by
a
Dutch
physician.
Cornelius Van Drebel
who
in
that
year
launched a
sub-
mersible
navigable
boat ,
followed
by
tw o
others in
one
of
wfiich
James
made
a
trip.
These boats
were
built
of wood
and
made
water-tight by
a
casing
of
greased
leather, being
propelled by
twelve
rowers
whose
oars
were
jointed
where
they
passed
through
the
ship 's
casing
in
a
moveable
watertight
leather holder.
They
carried
passengers
in
addition,
and
made
journeys
of several hours
submerged
15
feet.
In
the
next
hundred
years,
Norwood,
the
tw o
priests
Mersenne
and
Fournier,
Barrie, Bishop
Wilkins,
De
Sou ,
Borelli,
Doligny, John
Holland
(who patented
an
engine
for
us e
in
submarine
navigation),
Evance,
Lethbridge
and
Symons
were
inventors
of
subamrine
craft,
Father Mer-
senne
being
the
first
to
use
a
metallic
hull and
adopt
the
pisciform shape
for
his
boat,
which carried
tw o
cannon.
About this
period,
in
1721 ,
a
diving
apparatus
was
in -
vented
in
England
by Halley;
and
in
1763 ,
Day,
of Yar-
mouth,
while
testing
his
submarine
vessel
in
Plymouth
Harbor,
lost his
life
through
his
inability
to
rise
to
the
surface after
a
dive. This
was
the first
casual ty
in the
history
of
this invention.
At
length
in
1733
an-American
engineer,
D.
Bushnell,
constructed
one
turtle-shaped,
and
to
him
belongs
the
honor
of
fabricating
the first submarine boat that could
be
navigated
under
water
under
any
conditions.
Three
years
later,
during
the War
of
Independence,
Bushnell
had
an
ideal
opportunity
to
test
the
fighting
qualities
of his
boat , and,
with the
permission
of General
Parsons,
attempted
to
blow
up
an
English-
frigate
in
New
York
Harbor. He
was towed one
night by
tw o
rowing
boats
to
a
point
ne r
the
vessel ,
but
when
he reached
its
side
he
found
that
he
could
not
affix
his
torpedo
because
of
the
ship being
copper
sheathed.
He was carried
by
the
current
away
from
his
intruded
victim,
and
later his
mine
exploded
harmlessly ,
causing
great
consternation
among
the
British fleet.
In
1780
and 1796
there
were
other
attempts,
and
in
1797
Robert
Fulton,
whose inventive
brain had
long
recog-
nized
its
possibilities,
offered his
plans
for
a
submarine
to
the French Government. A committee
reported
favor-
ably,
but
nothing
eventuated.
After like
unsuccess
with
the
Dutch, Bonaparte
gave
him
10,000
francs
to
exprei-
ment
with,
and
in
1800
he
built the Nautilus
(and
later
the
Mute ),
a
cigar-shaped
vessel. After
numerous
trials
on
the Se ine ,
during
which
she
remained
under
water
once for five
hours,
the French
authorities decided
against her,
and
raised so
many
objections
that
Fulton,
in
disgust,
threw
up
the
project
and
turned
his attention
No.
9
AUGUST
12th,
MCMXVI Vol. 11l
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904
BRUNO'S WEEKLY
in
America,
to
the
problem
of
steam
navigation,
winning
in
that field immortal
renown.
A
persistent pioneer
in
submarine
navigation
was
Wil-
helm Bauer
who,
getting
his
idea
from
the
dolphin,
built
a
dolphin-shaped
boat
at
Kiel
in
1850. After
offering
his
invention
vainly
to
Austria
and
England,
he
tried
Russ ia ,
with the result that in 1856
Le Diable
Marin,
built
at
St.
Petersburg,
was
launched
at
Cronstadt.
Not
proving successfu l ,
he
finally
had
to
leave
Russia
in
great
haste. Bauer
relates that while
submerged
he could
hear
people 's
voices
on
the
surface some distance
away,
proving
that
water
is
a
good
conductor of
sound.
In
1859
Delany,
of
Chicago,
built
one,
but
it
was
too
complicated
for
practical
use;
while
too
cumbrous
was
''The
Intelligent
Whale built in
Brooklyn.
Next
year
came
Le
Plongeur,
the invention
of
Bourgois
and
Brun,
139 feet
long.
During
the Civil
War
the submarine first
demonstrated
its
value as
an
engine
of
war.
In
1863 the
Keokuk,
a
type
of
submersible
monitor
built
in
New
York, fought
a
duel
with
Fort
Sumter,
and ,
though
riddled
with
shots,
escaped
without the loss
of a man.
But she
sank
the fol-
lowing night.
This curious
monster,
164 feet
long,
was
both
a
ram
and
a
monitor,
and
resembled
a
huge floating
battery.
She was
constructed of
pipe
and
palmetto logs,
her
armor
being
railway
iron,
and
her
iron
turrets
were
six
inches thick.
In
the
same
year
the
Confederates
at
Charleston
used
a
submarine
boat
against
the
blockading
Federal
squadron.
It
was
c igar -shaped,
built of
boiler
plates
and
propelled
by eight
men
at
a maximum
speed
of
4
knots,
and when
advancing
her
top
was
level with the
water.
While
being
tried
out
she
sank
and failed
to
rise
on
three
occas ions,
her
crew
perishing
each
time.
The
fourth
time
she
was
successful
in
her
manoeuvers,
reached
the
Housatonic,
and
sank her—but
at
the
expense
of
her
own
life.
This
type
of
submarine
was
called
a
David,
and
a
number
of
them
were
built
at
Mobile.
Goubet,
of
Paris,
in
1882
built
one
of
the first
effective
submarines,
and
he
was
followed
by
Mordenfeldt with
a boat
that
surpassed
all
previous
attempts.
The
Katahdin,
launched in
1893 ,
and which
cost
our
government
close
to
a
million
dollars,
had a
length
of 251
feet,
and
was one of
the
most
successful
of
her
type.
Finally
when the twentieth
century
dawned,
man's
patient tenacity
began
to
bear
fruit,
and
submarine
war
vessels
of
great
practical
use were
produced by
Italian,
French,
Russ ian,
German
and,
in
particular,
American
inventors.
Nearly
all obstacles
were
overcome,
and
an
almost
perfect
craft
evolved.
For
propulsion
electric
storage
batteries, oil, benzol, gaso lene
and
even
steam
were
used, and ,
still
more
marvelous,
eyes
to
se e
what
is
going
on
at
the surface while
submerged
were
provided.
This miracle
was
accomplished
by
the
invention of the
p eris co pe , b y
whose
aid the
navigator,
while
beneath
the
surface,
can se e
anything
above.
He is
thus enabled
to
attack and
destroy
a
hostile
ship,
or
carry
out
valuable
reconnaissances.
Among
the first successful submarines
in
the United
States
was
the
Argonaut,
des igned
by
Simon
Lake
of
Baltimore. She
made
trips
on
the
Patapsco, Md.,
in
1898 ,
and
later
traveled
200
miles
under
the
surface
of
Lake
Champlain.
Another
Lake
ship,
the
Seal,
built
in
1911
,
was 161 feet
l ong,
had
six
torpedo
tubes
and
carried
10
to rpedoes .
Her
surface
speed
was 14
knots,
9 1-2 while
submerged.
It
was
in
1893 that
France first
began
to
use
sub-
marines;
and
from
1901-4
quite
a
number
were
built of
a
larger
and
improved
type.
Her
Circe
and
Calypso
(1905)
were
155
feet
l ong,
and
with
Diesel
oil
eng ines
made about twelve
knots
per
hour
on
the
surface,
when
submerged electricity
was
the
motive
power.
In 1909
a
number of small
submarines
were
built from
des igns
of
M. Labeuf. At the
preesnt
time France
probably
has
more of
these
sea-devils than
any
other
nation.
Most
of these
boats ,
and
the
ear ly
American
boats ,
were of
the
famous Holland
type,
so-called from the
name
of their
American
inventor,
John
P.
Holland,
who
des igned
the
first
submarine,
the
Holland, acquired
by
the U.
S .
Navy Department,
in 1897. This
boat was
followed
by,
a
number of
similar
but
improved
types,
seven
of which
were
launched 1901-2. It is
surmised
that
American
submarines
were used
by
Admiral
Togo
to
destroy
the
Russian
Fleet in the Sea of
Japan
in 1905.
Among
the
requirements
of the f irst Holland boat
w as
that
it
should
make 8
knots
pe r
hour for 6
hours,
and
reach
a
depth
of 20
feet
in
one
minute after
receiving
orders
to
dive.
By
1910
the
United States had
27
of
these
torpedo
boats ,
some
of which have
made
good
records. The
U.
S.
submarine
Narwhale
has made
tw o
clean hits
out
of
four
at
a
distance
of
2000
yards
while
traveling
at
full
speed
and
40
feet below surface.
It
may
also be
noted
that the small U. S . submarine
Petrel
during
the
Spanish
War
easily
dest royed
tw o
Spanish torpedo
boats.
Thus
after hundreds of
years
of t ireless and
dangerous
experiment,
man's
ingenuity
won
the
day,
and
we
have
only
to
read
the
war
despatches
of the
past
few weeks
to
realize
that
the submarine
war-ship,
as a
great
designer
of
them
(John
P.
Holland)
once
wrote,
is a
weapon
against
which
there is
no
defence.
Porpoising
her
way,
unperceived,
towards
her
prey,
this
submarine
snarpshooter
fi res death and
destruction
into
the
very
vitals of
a
supposedly
invulnerable
dread-
nought,
and
escapes
unseen.
Defects it
may
still
have,
but the submarine had
demonstrated
beyond
a
doubt
its
deadly
effectiveness
as
a
war
engine.
Whatever
defects
there
are
will
doubtless
be removed
before
l ong.
A cardinal
defed:
is
the
inability
of
the submarine
to
se e
further than
a few
yards
when
submerged;
its
restricted
radius
of
action and
low
speed
come
next,
and then there
is
to
be considered the
cramped,
confined
life
of the
crew
which
is
very
enervating.
But there
is
little
doubt that these
obstacles
to
perfect
control
and swift action
will be
overcome,
and in the
fulness of
time
perhaps
a
more
peaceful
field
of
activity
and
usefulness
for
submarine
craft
may
open
up
when
they
are
used
for
commercial
travel,
marine
surveying,
and
in
locating
and
removing
sunken
treasure.
A notable
instance
of the fear
in
which submarine
war
vessels
are
held
was on
the
occasion of the
sinking
of
the
Aldabaran in the
North
Sea
by
the Russian
war-ship
Kamschatka
a
few
years
ago.
Mistaking
the Alda-
*baran
for a
submarine,
the Russian commander
signaled
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BRUNO'S
WEEKLY
905
that he
was
being
attacked
by
submarines
at
the
same time
firing
upon
the
Swedish
steamer,
sinking
her.
Notwithstand the
perfection
ot
which
the
submarine
as a
war
engine
has been
brought
it
is
the
opinion
of
naval
experts,
among
them
Admiral
Mahan,
that the
gu n
will
always
keep
ahead
of
it,
and
recent events
in
the
great
European
war now
raging
have
to
some
extent
justified
this
opinion.
They
are
at best
a
frail
craft.
Only
a short
time
ago
(Nov. 23)
the German
submarine
U-18
was
rammed
and
sunk
by
the British
destroyer
Garry,
and
all
her
crew,
with
the
exception
of one
man
who
was
drowned,
captured.
Built in
1912 the U-18
had
a
radius of action
of 2000
miles,
a
surface
speed
of
14
knots,
and
8
knots
while
submerged.
On the other
hand and
offsetting
to
some
extent
this
expens ive
sub-
marine
mortality
was
the
reported
success of
a
German
submarine
in
sinking
the British
superdreadnought
Audacious
on October 27
near
the
Irish
coast.
This
$10,000,000
giant,
it
is
believed,
was
destroyed
by
one
of
a fleet
of
submarines from
Wilhelmshaven which
launched
tw o
to rpedoes
at
her,
the
second
taking
effect.
So
long
as
these invisible marine
sharpshooters prowl
the
se a
for the
dreadnought, battleship
or
other
surface
war-ship
eternal
vigilance
is the
price
of
safety.
Alfred
Ernest
Keet
Octave
Mirbeau
HTHE first time
saw Octave
Mirbeau,
or
rather heard
him,
was
amid
the smoke of
a
public
gathering
at
the time
of
the
Dreyfus
case.
He
pres ided
at
a
meeting
of
some
sort,
in
some
quarter
or other.
He
impressed
me
as
being
firm and
energetic.
Prominent
eyebrows,
a
pow-
erful
jaw,
neck
as
strong
as a bull's
and
a
spiky
moustache
hiding
a
thin
mouth—the whole
arrangement
of
those
sharply
defined
features
gave.him
the
impressive
appear-
ance of
a
retired
se a
captain
or a
wrestler
at
a
country
fair
side-show.
To
this
must
be
added the
brutal
accent
in
which he addressed his
aud ience,
his
jerky
gestures,
and
his
bluntness. That
evening
Octave Mirbeau revealed
h im-
self
to
me
as
a
bold,
aggressive,
formidable
fighter.
Since
then
have
met
him
at
Durand-Ruel's
and
at
various
exhibitions. He
was no
longer
a
fighter.
On
the
contrary,
he
appeared
tired
and
as
if
disillusioned.
He
seemed
weighed
down
by
a
great
sorrow.
It
flashed
across
my
mind that
in
his
limpid
eyes,
deep
behind
the
arch
of
his
brows,
saw
an
expression
of
unspeakab le
suffering—
like
a
ref lection of
destpair,
of
irremediable
nostalgia.
All Mirbeau seems
revealed
in
these
tw o
attitudes. A
fighter
he
certainly
is;
his
opponents
know
something
about that.
But
he
is
also
a
creature
full
of
sensitive-
ness
and
of
foibles.
This
formidable
controversialist,
who
throws
himself
body
and
soul
into the
fray,
who rushes
at
his enemies and deals
savage
blows
right
and
lift,
possesses
a
young
girl's
shyness,
a
lad's tenderness.
He
adores
flowers,
but
above
everything
he loves
birds,
always
pro-
tecting
them
from
harm.
Do
you
recall
Isidore
Lechat,
a
character in
one of
his
plays,
who
no sooner
appears
on
the
stage
than he
causes a
poor
bird
to
be
frightened
away
from
his
garden? Mirbeau
intended this
action
to
sym-
bolize all
the vileness
and
meanness
of
the
human
race.
For
him,
a man
who doesn't
love
birds,
becomes
classified;
he is
a
brute,
a
criminal
capab le
of
any
sort
of
fe lony.
Mirbeau
also loves
dogs,
with the
exception,
perhaps
of
the horrible
little beast
of
the
Calvaire.
Lastly,
he
loves
men,
notwithstanding
his
great
know ledge
of them
and the
fact
that he has become
a
master
in the
art
of
ex-
posing
their foibles and their
vices.
But
he
loves
them
when
they
are
help less,
miserable,
wretched;
when
they
stimulate
in
him
fraternal—compassion,
when
they
join
the ranks
of
life's
vanquished
ones.
Octave
Mirbeau.
Original Drawing
by
A.
Delannoy
And all this hidden
love,
all this
tenderness,
which he
conceals
so
awkwardly—fearing ridicule, perhaps,—but
which
shows , never the less ,
in
all
his
works;
all
this
store
of
sentiments, aspirations,
and
human
desires,
brotherly
and
helpful,
which he
represses
and
stubbornly
forces
back—all
this
exp lodes
sudden ly
and
becomes
anger,
in -
dignation
and
vehemence. Then occurs one of
those
mar-
vellously
lucid
and incisive
pages,
thundering
with im -
precations,
laden with anathema
and
bubbling impetu-
ously
with
rage
and
scorching
words.
His
writing
be
comes
a
torrent
that
has
broken loose,
carrying
away
all
things
before it and
sweeping
onward
in
a
tumultous
stream
of
fierce
invective, daring
metaphor
and
audacious
paradox.
Such
pages
are
masterp ieces
in
which one feels
that
the author
has
poured
out
some
of
his
strength
ans
blood,
and in which he has allowed his
heart,
filled
with
love
and
pity,
to
overflow.
The
particularly
ignominious
period
in
which
we
live
knows few writers of
this
stamp.
Our
present
day
literary
and
artistic
domesticity
faithfully
reflects
our
spirit
of de
mocracy
and
universal
suf f rage.
Artists
and
writers,
who
were
formerly
knaves and
courtesahs,
are
to-day
the
flunk-
eys
of
the
triumphant
bourgeoisie.
Among
this herd
of
servile
and
timorous
persons,
al l
craving
enjoyment
and
all
seek ing adulation,
the man of
g en iu s d ev elo ps
painfully;
a
temperamental
writer
has
a
hard time
asserting
himself. If he
merely mumbles,
the
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alarmed
flock
turns
around
ready
to
check
him. If
he
persists,
if
he faces
his
adversaries
returning
blow for
blow,
if he attacks
them,
then
a
boycotting
is
organized
and silence
prevails;
he
is left
to
struggle
in
the dark
and
die
of
inanition.
Two forcible
writers
have
resisted
and
have
main-
tained
-their
opinion:
Octave
Mirbeau
and
Leon
Bloy.
The
former
ear ly
acquired
the
faculty
of
asserting
himself
and
of
conquer ing
public
indifference.
He
commands re-
spect.
His
gen ius
was
so
obviously
real that
it
became
impossible
to
deny
its
existence.
Being
talented while
those
surrounding
him
had
to
strive
to
achieve
mediocrity; speaking
the
truth
while others
were
spreading lies;
giving
proofs
of
daring,
audacity,
en-
ergy
and
revolt,
while
this
herd of
frightened sheep
could
not
bleat
and
cower,
Mirbeau
incurred
an
unrelenting
hatred. But instead of
attacking
him
openly ,
they
re-
sorted
to
defamation and
backbiting;
his
errors
and his
idiosyncracies
were
slyly
pointed
out,
and
great
efforts
were
made
to
belittle
him and
drag
him
down
to
their
own
level.
His
errors,
his
idiosyncracies—we
are
all
aware
of
them
—but,
shall
we
confess
it?
We
love Mirbeau
even
in his
shortcomings,
and
perhaps
still
more
on
account
of these
deficiencies which bear
proof
of his
temperament
and
prob-
ably
imperfections
without
repining
and without
partial-
ity.
This
will
permit
us
to
take the
m an
bodily
and
lift
him
up
on
a
pedesta l .
Mirbeau
was
born
on
February
16th,
1850,
in Tre-
vieres,
Calvados—a
fellow
countryman
of
Flaubert
and
Barbey
d'Aurevilly.
His
father
was
a
physician
at
Reg
malard
in
the
Orne,
where Mirbeau
grew
to
manhood.
His mother
was
a
charming
and
sweet
woman,
whom he
adored
and from
whom
he
inherited,
presumably ,
the
gift
of
human
understanding.
There
was
also
in
the
family
an
uncle,
the terrible Abbe
Jules,
whose
story
has been
told
by
the author.
Mirbeau
has
given
us,
in his
works,
the
history
of
his
family
and
that of the first
years
of his life.
We
meet
his father in
the Calvaire
and in
L'Abbe
Jules,
to-
gether
with
the
descriptions
of the
val leys
of the
Orne,
of
the fields
and
forests
of
Bresnin,
and
of
Isigny
with
poplars,
app le
trees
and the
se a
as
a
background,
where
the
writer's
childhood
was
spent
in
close
contact
withr
na -
ture,
we
follow
him
to
the
Jesuits
of Vannes
in
his
S e-
bastien
Roch,
in which he shows
us
how
a
child's
intellect
becomes
warped.
After
l eav ing col lege,
he
vacillated;
should
he take
up
law
or
medicine?
Finally,
he decided
to
study
law
and
went
to
Paris. Then the
war
of
1870
occurred. Mirbeau
became
a
militia
lieutenant in
the
army
of the Loire.
Again
in the
Calvaire,
we
find
a
marvellous
chapter
in
which he
describes
his
horror of
war
and
massacre.
The
first
year
in
Paris
was
spent
in
a
restless
fashion;
the
young
m an
had
not
as
yet
found
his
vocation. He
tried his hand
at
writing.
A
f riend of
the
family,
Dugue
de la
Franconnerie,
put
him
on
the
staff of
the
Ordre,
a
paper
which had
just
been established. Mirbeau's first
article
was a
lyrical
essay
on
Manet,
Monet and
Cejanne,
and
full of
terrible
insults addressed
to
the
Academicians.
This article
cost
him
his
position
as
art
critic,
but he
re-
ceived
in
exchange
that of theatrical critic.
In
a
few
months he
had
consciously
torn to
pieces
a
number of
artists and
had caused all the theatrical
managers
to
wage
war on the
paper.
After
this,
according
to
Edmond
Goncourt,
the author
spent
four
months
smoking opium;
he has
met
some
one
just
returned
from
Cochin,
China,
who has assured him
that
everything
Baudelaire has
written
on
opium
is
pure
humbug,
and
that
it
produces ,
on
the
contrary,
a
very
soothing effect;
the
enticer
gives
him
a
pipe
and
a
Cochin
Chinese
dress. For
four
months behold him
in
a
flowered
robe,
smoking pipe
after
p ipe,
as
many
as a
hundred and
eighty
a
day,
eating
nothing
or
perhaps
only
a
boiled
egg
every
twenty-four
hours. He reaches
a
state
of
com-
plete
depress ion
and confesses that
opium,
which
produces
a certain cheerfulness
when
smoked
in small
quantities
loses this
power
after
further
indulgence
and
brings
about
a sense
of
empt iness
accompan ied
by
sadness,
a
sadness
beyond
description.
At this
stage,
his
father,
who
believes
him
to
be in
Italy,
finally
finds
him,
tears
him
away
from
his
robe
and his
lodgings,
and
takes him for
a
few months
trip
through Spain.
Mirbeau
soon recovered
and
was
appointed
deputy
sher-
iff
of
Saint-Girons;
and
what
a
sheriff he made
Being
frankly
react ionary ,
he
never
left off
striving
against
and
making
fun of the
Republ i cans .
He
scandalized the
ad
ministration
by
his bluntness and his
paradoxical
behavior.
It
didn't take him
long
to
abandon
this
position
and
to
return to
journalism.
He
joined
the
staff
of
the
Gaulois.
Meanwhile
he
developed
a
strong
passion
for a
certain
woman,
and,
wishing
to
make
some
money,
he became
a
broker
on
the
Exchange.
He
managed
successful ly
to
make
as
much
as
twelve thousand francs
a
year.
A cruel
deception
ensued.
Determined
to
shun the world
and
to
avoid
women,
he
set
off
on
an
eighteen
months'
sailing
ex-
pedition
in
a
fishing
boat
he had
pu rchased
in
Brittany.
One
cannot
accuse
Mirbeau
of
not
being
passionately
in
earnest.
Perhaps
it
is
because of this
earnestness
that his
defects
become
apparent.
With
the
same
whole-hearted-
ness
in
hatred
as
in
love,
he
is
off like
a
shot.
He
doesn't
reckon
with
circumstances
cont ingencies
or
motives.
He
j udges ,
condemns or exalts. He is
given
to
quick
and in -
explicable
impulses
and
to
unexpected passions
which
sud-
den ly
give
way
to
abruptness
and
disgust.
He makes
one
thoroughly
understand
Maupassant's
phrase
which
seems
to
have
been
written for him: On
given
days
I
experi-
ence such horrors
towards
existence
as
to
desire
death;
on
other
days, however,
I
en joy
life after the
manner
of
animals.
Once
on
the
warpath,
nothing
can
stop
him;
he
goes
straight
on with
beautiful
courage.
Whether
in
the
field
of
art
or
in that
of
politics,
he contributes the
same
amount
of
uncompromising
ferocity;
even
if he has
to
change
his
attitude,
he never
ceases
being
sincere.
Thus it
is
that
we
sa w
him,
who
was
once
anti-Semitic,
later on
taking
Dreyfus'
side.
It is
likely,
however,
that association
with
Arthur
Meyers
justified
his anti-Semitism.
One has
seen
him
take
up
the
cudge l
of
some
artists,
the
majority
of
whom
ar e
really
great.
But
he is
no
art
critic. He
j udges
with
too
much
prejudice.
He can't
analyze
cool ly,
nor
examine details.
He
perce ives
a
work
of
art,
he
apprec ia tes
its
value,
and
knows
admirably
how
to
express
what he
feels
about
it. But
when he is mis-
taken,
he remains
just
as
excessive,
and
so
the
impression
produced
is
painful.
In his
book, 628-EB,
Mirbeau tells
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us
that
after
admiring
a
Rembrandt
for
a
whole
day,
he
found
but
one
artist whose
work
could
rank
next to
it;
he named
Van
Gogh.
This
is
going
a
little
too
far,
especially
if
one
realizes
that such
a
statement
is
not
made
fo r the
empty
p leasure
of
appearing
paradox ical .
Further
on
he
sets
Mayol,
an inheritor of the
Etruscans,
against
the
powerful
Rodin
and
places
him
above
the latter.
What
he does in
the criticism
of
art,
he
does
equally
in the
novel,
the
theatre
and
the
press
—he
exaggerates.
Les
Amants,
a
playlet
directed
at
love,
becomes
a
music -
hall
farce because of
its
efforts
to
be
extremely
comical.
Les
Journal d'une
Femme
de
Chambre and
les
Vingt
et
un
Jour
d'un
Neurasthenique
are
full
of
disconcerting
passages
and
exaggera ted interpretations—just
as,
in
628-EB,
when
he
judges
the
intelligence
of animals
by
the
diligence
they display
in
keeping
out
of
the
way
of
auto-
mobiles,
he decides
in
favor
of the
wild
geese
of
the
Roman
capitol.
Behold
Those
are
the defects
of this
dynamic
and
en-
thusiastic
writer,
enthusiastic even
in his
scept ic ism
and
disgust.
Here
they
are,
those
defects
which
are as
enormous as
his
good
qualities,
and which
we
love because
they
are
Mirbeau's
defects
and
because one
must
either
love
or
reject
him
entirely.
Putting
aside his
peculiarities,
his
voluntary
brutalities,
his affected bad
manners,
Mirbeau is the
most
human
and
conscientious writer.
One feels an
immense
sorrow
in
his
pages
which sometimes
turns
into
anger
and sometimes
into
irony.
All
sufferings
and
weaknesses
attract
him
and move
him
to
pity.
Still he
is
the
most
lucid
and
succinct
writer,
deliciously poetic
and
brutally
realistic.
Some
peop le might
find this
panegyric
too
excessive.
To
us
it
feebly
expresses
our
admiration
for Mirbeau.
Our
best
excuse
lies
in
the
difficulties
besetting
the
task;
to speak
of
Mirbeau, one
ought
to
have
at
one's command
Mirbeau's
own
art
of
speech.
After
the French
of
J.
Flax
by
Renee
Lacoste
Love,
Let
us
Live
in
Fairyland To-day
OVE,
let us
live
in
Fairyland to-day:
Our modest home
shall be
a
palace
fair,
And
you
a
pr incess
with
long
golden
hair,
And
the
prince
who comes
the
spell
to
stay.
What
strange
adventures
shall
beset
my
way
Before I find
your
winding
marble-stair
Where magic
roses
make
a
drowsy
air
To
dull the
knights,
ere
they
engage
in
fray
But
with
Love's
charm
(The
Witch
knows
naught
of
this )
I shall
not*
falter,
though
her wild
green
eyes
Daft
lightning, and ,
with
an
enchant i ng
hiss,
She
try
her
best
to
keep
me
from the
prize;
I
shall
go
on
and
free
you
with
a
kiss,
As she
goes
in
a
smoke-puff
toward
the
skies
Edward H. S.
Terry
The First Violin
A
H,
those last
notes
still
quivering
on
the air
Passionately
deep
and
soft
Is there
but
one
in
all that gaudy
throng,
That
drink and feed and
laugh
such
stupid
laughs,
Will
wrap
himself
in
silence
and stand
by
Feeling
the
master's
soul breathe in the
song?
Omaha
(Nebraska)
Misericordia
or
As It Will
Happen
CHE
had loved him
once
sometime
ago.
Lately
sh e had
seen him
very
seldom.
They
were
talking
about him: about
his
financial
em-
barrassment. She
only
said:
Oh,
and
she
thought
of
many
others
who
were
bad off.
They
said:
He
has
debts
and
he
will
hardly
be
able
to
pay
them.
He
will
have
to
leave
the
city.
Goodness
knows where he is
going
to
and
what he will
do
for
a
living.
She
said:
Poor
boy
and
thought,
why
should
bother with
such
sad
thoughts?
The others continued
to
discuss him and
one
l aughed
maliciously:
He
always
was a
snob.
He wore the best
of
linen
and
silks
in
the
summer.
Now
he will have
to
do with
ordinary
shirting.
And
she shuddered: his soft white skin will be irritated
by
rough
materials?
His sensitive small feet
without
silk?
.
she
could have cried—.
It
seemed to
her
that
her
lips felt
soft
smooth
skin
and
she couldn't bear the idea that his
tender
flesh should
suffer.
•
•
She
telegraphed
to
his late
haberdasher and ordered
some
of
the
most
expens ive
and wonderful underwear
sent
to
him
anonymous ly .
•
The haberdasher
applied
the
money
against—what
he
considered
—a
bad
account
of
his
once
distinguished
cus-
tomer.
Cat's
Paw
The Governor's
Poodle
By
W . Azow .
(Translated
by
Guido
Bruno)
FIE
governor's poodle
was
promenading
on
the
streets
of
the
city.
He
was
no
different from
all
the other
dogs
and
therefore the
citizens did
not
notice him
at
all.
It
was
his bad luck that the
City
Dog-ca tcher
came
along
and
spied
him,
and
as
he hadn't
a
license—not
at
all
astonishing
for
a
dog
that
belongs
to
a
governor—he
grabbed
him
without
any
hesitation.
The
Dog-catcher
had
seen a
brute
without
a
dog-collar
and
he exclaimed: Hullo didn't
our
good
Governor
prohibit
dogs
without
licenses
on
our
streets?
And
like
an Indian
lasso-thrower,
he
captured
the
dog
with
his
rope
and
a
few
minutes afterwards the
poodle
was
in
the
Dog-catcher 's
bag .
The
poodle
didn't
even
make
a sound but his
proud
bearing
worried the
Dog-catcher.
He
observed
how
a
few of
the other
dogs
in the
wagon
had
jumped
at
the
newcomer,
ready
to
bury
their teeth
in his
skin;
but the
poodle
barked
very gently
into
the
ear
of the wildest of his
aggressors,
and
they
all
kept
quiet
and remained
in
the
remotest
corner
of
the
wagon
in
respectful
silence.
Something
is
wrong,
thought
the
poor
intimidated
Dog-catcher.
I
must ask
the
policeman
what
this
all
means.
Officer, he
called with
a
rather
timid voice,
He took off his hat after
a
policeman
had
answered
in -
dignantly
his
call
and
inquired
what
the
noise
was about:
I
caught
a
poodle
but
perhaps
the
dog
belongs
to
the
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BRUNO'S WEEKLY
909
Police
Commissioner
or
maybe
it is the
property
of
a
General
Let's
se e
how he
looks, replied
the
policeman
and
leaned
over
the
wagon.
This one?
Oh,
you
fool
You
believe
a
General
would have
a
shabby
dog
like this
one?
Generals
have
Airedales
or
Russian hounds
.
and
no
Police
Commissioner would
own a
dog
like this
.
I
am
very
well
acquainted
indeed
with
the
dogs
of all
our
police
officials.
From
a
nearby
house
door
emerged
a
janitor
and
seeing
the
poodle,
he
respectfully
removed his
£ap.
What
is
the
matter
with
you?
asked
the
policeman
surprised.
•
This
is
the
dog
of the
governor,
was
the
janitor's
solemn
answer.
The
pol i ceman
seemed
to
feel the
ground
rocking
under
his feet.
The
dog
of the
governor?
And
you
have
dared
to
catch
it Release him
immediately,
you
scoundrel
And
he
gave
the
Dog-catcher
such a
punch
in
the
jaw
that the
cap
flew off
his
head. The
Dog-
catcher
did
not
reply. He
did
not
even
dare
to
say
a
word
of
protest
and with
trembling
hands he
opened
the
door of the
wagon.
The
pol i ceman
tried
to
attract
the attention
of the
dog
by whistling.
I
shall send *him home
in
a
cab,
he said.
Oh,
you
confounded
dog
how do
you
dare
to
let
out
this
poodle
without
a
license,
sounded the voice of the
police
sergeant
sudden ly .
Don't
you
know
the
police
regulations?
The
policeman
seemed
perfectly
helpless
and
studdered:
This is
the
dog
of
the
governor
.
His
superior
officer
l aughed heartily.
You darn
fobl,
do
you
believe that the
governor 's
dog
would
be
strolling
around the
city
all
alone?
The
dog
of the
governor
is
a
superior
being
and
always
has
a
lackey
or a
chamber-maid
as
a
servant.
.
Anyhow
there
isn't much t s dis-
cuss.
Put that miserable
brute
into
the
wagon
he
ordered the
dog-catcher.
The latter
grabbed
the
poodle
with
brutal
bestiality,
gave
him
a
kick
and
hurled him
into the
wagon.
This
surely
is
not
an
ordinary
dog,
remarked
a
sales-
man
of
a
nearby
department
store,
one
can
se e
by
his
ears
that he
has
breeding,
and
just lqok
how
clean he
is ,
and
how
nicely
combed
The
police
sergeant
thought
deeply
for
a
few minutes
and
then
he said rather
unconvinced:
Maybe
it is
really
the
dog
of
the
governor.
Sudden ly
he
yel led
full
of
anger
at
the
Dog-catcher:
Le t
that
dog
out
immediately
Don't
you
see,
you
idiot,
that he
is
a
very
well-bred
dog?
Ha,
ha
a
well-bred
dog,
mocked
somebody
right
near
the
pol ice sergeant
Ha,
ha,
what
a
dog-fancier
.
. '
All
turned
around and
sa w
Magistrate
Pietrov.
Good
morning,
Your
Honor,
called
the
police
ser-
geant.
So,
in
your
opinion,
this
is
only
an
ordinary
dog?
The
worst
alley dog , my
dear
man,
ever
saw
in
my
life;
he
even
has
sore
eyes.
Who
knpws
but he
might
even
be
mad?
The
police sergeant
seemed
to
have
lost
his head.
He
struck
at
the
dog-catcher
angrily
with
fists and
ieet,
screaming
at
him:
Go
on,
go
on,
you
beast ,
I
will teach
you
to
let mad
dogs
walk
about
the
streets.
Hey,
policeman
To-
morrow
put
him
in
jail
for
tw o
days
The
dog-catcher's
wagon
went
on
and
followed
his
course
through
the
city
and
soon
disappeared
from the
horizon
of
those that had
witnessed this
incident.
But
in
about
half-an-hour,
at
the
same
spot
there
as-
sembled
tw o
police commiss ioners ,
three
police
sergeants
and
five
policemen.
Hasn't
anybody
here
seen
the
Governor's
poodle?
asked
one of
the
commissioners
of
the
police
sergeant
on
duty.
The
sergeant
was
not
able
to
say
a
word. But he
started
to
run
in
the direction
in
which the
vehicle
of the
dog-catcher
had
disappeared.
He
was
followed
by
all
the
police
dignitaries.
On the
following day
the
dog-catcher
was
condemned
to
three
months
hard
labor.
The
mayor
of
the
city
was
fined
to
pay
500
roubels
and
he
was
not
allowed
to commute
the
fine
into
a
jail
sentence.
The
police
sergeant
was dismissed from the force
for
negligence
of
duty.
Miraculously
enough
the
political
editor
of
the
local
paper
escaped punishment
in this
case.
In
the
Man ne r o f
Edgar
Lee
Masters
r
|
HERE
was
once
a
butcher
Who,
for
love
of
chorus-lady,
Disembowelled
himself
with
meat-ax
On her
sofa.
Now
I
do
not claim this
was
particularly
wrong;
I do
no t
condemn
the
man.
I
simply
say
That
when
useful male
animal
Would
make
such
miserable
shift
Over an amour
with
an
abandoned
woman,
There
must
be
something
rotten
In
the moral
fabric
Of
the
community
which bore
him.
H.
Thompson
Rich.
Drawing
by
Clara Tice
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BRUNO'S WEEKLY
10
Modern
Craftsmanship
IT
is usual
to
speak
of
modern
craftsmanship
in
an
apologetic
tone,
and
certainly
this
attitude is
only
too
justifiable. For,
if
few beautiful
pictures
or
statues
are
being wrought
to-day,
the
present
age
shows itself
yet
more
incompetent
where
the
applied
arts
are
concerned.
The
advent of
machinery ,
occurring
towards
the
middle
of last
century,
dealt
a terrible blow
to
fine
craftsmen,
their
products
having
now
to
compete
with
those
of com-
mercial
manufactories;
and
before
long
the craftsmen
lost
the
battle,
the
world
preferring
the
hideous
machine-made
goods
to
the
lovely
things
fashioned
by
hand. Neverthe-
less, machinery
is
not
wholly responsible
for the decline
of
craftsmanship,
and
a
fair
part
of
the
blame
must
be
laid
upon
modern
artists themselves.
Because,
with their
egotistical
eagerness
to
gain
prominence
for
their
own
names,
they mostly
consider
the
applied
arts
an
unworthy
field
fo r
their
activities,
and
insist
on
painting
the
easel
Finis.
By
Charles
Rickets in Form
picture,
or
moulding
the
independent
statue.
It
never
occurs
to
them, seemingly,
that
even
so
divine
a
sculptor
as
Donatello was
largely
concerned
with
ecclesiastical
decoration;
while
a
wealth of the
greatest
Italian
painters,
contemporaneous
with that
master,
were
also
occupied
almost
exclus ively
with this task.
Moreover,
in
what
was
perhaps
the
greatest
of
all
periods
in
French
art,
the
mid-eighteenth
century,
many
of the
rarest
painters
gladly
spent
their talents
on
decorating
china or
furniture;
while
in
England
of
Georgian
times,
Chippenda le
was
elected
a
member
of the
Society
of
Arts,
his name
being
inscribed
in
its
muster-roll hard
by
the
names
of
Reynolds,
Dr,
Johnson
and Horace
Walpole.
In
fine,
the
great
cabinet-
maker
was
thought
as
important
a
member
of the
Society
as
the
expert,
the
scholar,
and the
portraitist;
and
this
spirit
of
honour
towards
the
craftsmen,
together
with
that
readiness
on
the
part
of
good
sculptors
and
painters
to
waive
doing
independent
works—these
are
among
the
things
which
must
be
reinstated,
would
the
applied
arts
once more
prosper.
Nor
is it
inconceivable
that
a
rein-
statement
of this
sort
will
begin
to
take
place
at
no
very
distant
date,
the
recent
exhitj i tion
at
the Little
Gallery,
E. 40th
Street, proving
that
at
least
some
endeavour in
the
direction
is
being
made
to-day;
and
it is
proposed
to
ex-
plain,
in this
article, just
how that
interesting
exhibition
came
to
be
held.
But,
before
doing
so,
it
behooves
to
devote
a few words
to
the
new
magazine,
Form,
whose
publication
is
likewise,
in
a
sense,
a
step
towards the
greater
honouring
of the handicrafts.
Form
In contradistinction
to
most
journals
of
an
aspirat ional ,
and
therefore
unpopular
kind,
Form is
not
the
organ
of
an
actual
school ,
a
group
of
writers
or
painters sharing
a
given
aim.
It
must
not
be
confounded*with
Blast,
for
instance,
instituted
by
the Vorticists for
expounding
their own
creed;
and
the
n.ew
periodical
embodies
con-
tributing,
alike
by
artists of
acknowledged
reputation,
and
by quite
young
men.
Two of its best
poems
are
by
Mr.
Lawrence
Binyon,
while as
to
the
younger
poets
repre-
sented,
the
one
showing by
far
the
rarest
gifts
is
Mr.
Walter
de
la
Mare,
a
lyric by
him
having
a
gentle,
andante music
to
which Verlaine himself
would
surely
have
done
homage .
The
outstanding
prose
item is
a
travel-sketch
by
Mr.
Cunninghame
Graham,
while
that
very
talented
draughtsman
in
pen-and-ink,
Mr. E.
J.
Sullivan,
contributes
an
essay,
The
Grotesque,
which
re
Illustration
by
Aubrey Beardsley
veals
him
as a
really
sparkling
writer,
his
wit
withal
being
here
and
there of
a
somewhat
Rabelaisian order.
Mr.
Frederick
Carter's
drawings
ar e
all
weak
save one
called
Imagination,
its
topic
a
group
of nude
figures;
while the
many
drawings
by
Mr. Austin
Spare
are
not
nearly
as
strong
as
his
earlier
things,
fo r
example
those
in
his
de -
lightful
Book
of
Satyrs;
and
a
woodcut
by
Mr. C. H.
Shannon
is
in
no
way
comparab le
to
the
lithographs
he
did
fifteen
or
twenty
years ago,
marking
him as
easily
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BRUNO'S
WEEKLY
911
the finest
lithographer
since
Whistler.
However,
Mr.
Shannon's
woodcut,
along
with
one
by
Mr.
Frank
Brang-
wyn,
and
a
beautiful
lithograph
by
Mr. Charles
Ricketts,
are
exactly
what
give
Form
its
espec ia l
importance.
For
although
there
are
numerous
magazines
ready
to
offer
hospitality
to
good
prose
or
verse,
there
exists
likewise
abundant facilities
for
exhibiting
pictures
and
statues,
the
exquisite
crafts
of
wood-engraving
and
lithography
are
sadly
without
adequate
means for
winning
the keen in -
terest
they
deserve. That
torpid institution,
the
Royal
Academy ,
has
always
neglected
them
studiously ,
which
is
the
more
regrettable considering
how
wide
the
Academy 's
influence
is ,
and
it is
culpable
again
for
never
trying
to
foster
good
printing.
Now
Form
embodies
divers
typographical
ventures,
there
being
here
sundry
fine
initial
letters;
while
various
styles
are
employed
in
From
an
Old
English Chap
Book
the
different
pages,
some
being
set
with
a
very
decorative
type,
akin
to
what William
Morris
used
for
his famous
Chaucer.
And,
if
all these
ventures
are
no t
completely
successfu l ,
they
certainly
represent
an ambtiion of
a
sig
nally
praiseworthy
sort.
Mr.
C. R.
Ashbee
The exhibition
at
the Little
Gallery
was
principally
composed
of
metal
work and
jewelry,
the
things
having
been
made
by
the
Guild
of
Handicraft.
This
is
an
English
body,
founded
by
Mr. C. R.
Ashbee,
who is
an architect
by
profession,
author besides of
many
fine
drawings
and
poems,
along
with
writings
in
prose.
And
being long
a
close
friend of
William
Morris,
he
early
came
to
share
that
master's
passion
for
good
craftsmanship,
his
firm
be
lief that beautiful household
goods
are
perforce
made
by
hand,
with
the
result
that
he
inaugurated,
in
a
poor
part
of
London,
a
school
of
design
whose
pupils
were
recruited
exclus ively
from
the
Artisan
class.
Here
nearly
every-
thing belonging
to
a
category
of
applied
art
was
taught,
and
soon the
exploit
expanded
into
the Guild
aforesaid,
its
members
being
frequently commissioned
to
carry
out
the
decoration
of
whole
rooms,
if
no t
houses
or
churches.
Nevertheless
the affair
was soon
menaced
inevitably
by
financial
difficulties;
and
thereupon
Mr.
Ashbee ,
realizing
well
that
union
is
strength,
took
a
new,
and
still
more
interesting
step.
Contriving
to
acquire
a
piece
of land
in
the south
of
England,
he
built
on
it
a
tiny
village;
and
here
the
craftsmen
working
under
his
tuition
now
live
together,
each
having
his
own
separate
cottage,
of
course,
but
a
kind of masonic
regime existing
among
the
members ,
while
they
have
a
library
and
various
other
necessities
in
common .
United
thus,
these workers
are
able
to
hold
their
own
against
the
purely
commercial
houses ;
while the
beautiful
th ings
they
make
are
mostly
sold
through
an
agency
in
London,
whence
came
those
which
were
shown
at
the
Little
Gallery.
The
whole idea
is
a
most
excellent
one,
and
it is
to
be
hoped that,
indue
course,
something
of
the
same
species
be
attempted
here
in America.
The Book
Beautiful
Every
writer, caring
as
much
for
the
visible,
as for
the
literary
arts,
must
have
dreamt
fondly,
now and
then,
of
producing
his
works
in
a
guise
wholly
chosen
by
himself
printing
his
every
page
with his
own
hands
and
giving
to
the
arrangement
of
t i t le-pages,
and
so
forth,
that
loving
artistry
which is
practically
unknown
among
ordinary
typographers.
Very
few
men,
however ,
have been
lucky
enough
to
realize this
dream;
but Mr.
Ashbee
has
been
fortunate
herein,
hand-printing
being
one of the
arts
practised by
his Guild.
He
designed
personally
the
beautiful,
if
slightly
cryptic
type
used
by
his
press,
known
as
the
Essex
House;
and
it
has
printed
the
majority
of
his
recent
writings,
for
instance An Endeavour
towards
the
Teaching
of
John
Ruskin and
William
Morris,
Conradin:
A
Ballad,
and
Echoes
from
the
City
of
the
Sun,
the
last-
named
embody ing,
memorable decorative
items
by
the
author.
Nor
have
his works
monopolized
the
activities
of the
press,
for
it has also
sent out
many
classics,
among
them
Gray's
Elegy,
Tennyson ' s Maudand
Bunyan's
Pilgrim's Progress.
All
these
books
contain
lovely
wood -
cu t
illustrations,
notably
a
few
by
Miss Clerrience
Housman,
with others
by
Mr.
Reginald
Savage.
And
at
some future
date ,
no
doubt,
the
Essex House
publ ica-
tions
will
be
sought
for as
sedulously
as
Elzevirs
or
Al-
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BRUNO'S WEEKLY
12
dines;
while
then
too,
perhaps ,
Mr.
Ashbee will
at
last
receive due
honour
fo r
his
fostering
of
good
craftsmanship.
W. G. Blaikie
Murdoch
Herbert Beerbohm
Tree
Is He
an
Artist?
jH
ROM
a
struggling player
in
the
German theatre of
an
East
Side
locality
in
London
to
the
most
dis-
tinguished
actor
in
the
metropolis
of
the
world,
is
a
long
stretch.
This,
however,
has
been
accomplished by
Herbert
Beerbohm,
later Mr. Tree
and
now
Sir Herbert Tree.
To-day,
Sir Herbert
Tree
is
an
institution.
Londoners
attend
his
productions
as
faithfully
as
they patronize
the
Derby
races.
And like all
institutions,
he
is
likely
to
arouse
the
criticism and
often
the ire
of the
young
artist,
pulsating
with
a
restlessness
and
a
hunger
for newer
inroads
into
life
and
beauty.
The
home
of Tree
productions
is
His
Majesty's
Theatre
in
Haymarket,
truly
one
of
the
most
magnificent
and
beautiful
p layhouses
in
London.
Here there
is
presented
a
continual
flow
of
new
and
old
plays,
in
which
the
art
of Tree as
producer,
manager
and
actor
is
afforded the
fullest
scope
and
before
an
audience
that is
ever
ready
to
applaud,
to
acclaim
and
to
pra ise.
In
defining
this
peculiar
hold
over a
vast
number
of
playgoers
evercised
by
Tree,
it
is
necessary
to
point
out
that
he
has
always
sa t
on
the
right
side of the
public.
Tree's
attitude
has
been that the
public
can
be trusted
to
appreciate
the
good
and
high
in drama and
when a
very
fine
type
of
play
had
been
p laced
with infinite
care
upon
the
boards of His
Majesty's
Theatre and had
no t
received
the
support
that
it
deserved,
Tree has been
very
careful
not to
harrangue
the
public
for their
lack
of
appreciation.
Good-humoredly
he
taken
his
defeat
and the
public
was
given
to
understand that
the
management
of His
Majesty's
Theatre
understands
its attitude. Thus with
a
public
that
has
ever
been
diplomatically
and
gently
handled,
Tree has
established himself
as
a
marked
favourite of
whom it is
proud
and
of
whom
it carries
the
illusion
(this
is
important)
that
it
possesses.
The
public
is
never
happy
with a dramatist l ike
Shaw,
whom it
ca n
never
control
or
a
politician
like
Lloyd George capab le
of
outbursts
or a
man
like
Winston
Churchill
ever on
the
verge
of
changing
political
colour.
The
public
requires
of
its
idols
that
they
shall
meet
with its fixed
ideas of,
them.
Thus
they
like
Asquith
in
politics;
Mrs.
Humphrey
Ward
in
literature;
the Daily
News
in
Journalism
and
Herbert
Tree
in
the
theatre.
All this
might
be taken as a
disparagement
of
the
noted
actor.
But this
is
no t meant.
As
an
actor,
Tree
stands
out
to-day
as one
of
the foremost
in his
profession.
What
he has
done ,
however,
which will
prove
of little
importance
when
the
summing
of
his life
work is
cons idered,
is
his
attempt
with
that of Sir
George
Alexander
to
make
acting
a
respectable profession,
instead
of
allowing
it
to
re-
main
a
great
art,
above
respectabi l i ty
and
the
social ideas
and
amenities of the
current
generation.
The
taking
part
in
public affairs,
the
opening
of
charity
bazaars ,
the
entry
of the latter
(Sir
George
Alexander)
into
municipal
poli-
tics,
the
association
of both
in
favor
of the
vague
thing
called
patriotism
and
their
joint culminating
crime
in
accepting
knighthoods
at
the
hand of their
King,
are
all
acts
which deter from the
purposes
for which
true
artists
must
live. One
of
the
most
tragic
acts
in
the
career
of
that
most
gifted
of
living
actors,
Johnston
Forbes Robert-
son,
was
his
acceptance
of
a
knighthood.
It had been
hoped by
his admirers
that
so
great
an
art ist would
not
have
fallen.
The
tremendous influence of
class, however,
does
not
apparently
ever
leave those who have
been
born
or
who have lived for
a
considerable time in
England.
The personality
of
Tree
on
the
stage
is
powerful
and
ingratiating.
His voice has
a
mellow
strength
and
the
quality
of
arousing
a
liking
for
after
it has been
heard
several
ti
