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cles supporting banner-staffs. Considerations of proportion give to these piers a width of 10 feet. It also follows logically that the wide bays between these great piers are divided into three segmentally arched divisions of one module each, corresponding to the spacing of the minor supports of the gallery floor; which, in its turn, compels the establishment of a horizontal paneled division in each of these arched divisions, thus forming the first- and second-story windowopenings needed for the proper illumination of the building. In all their divisions and subdivisions, therefore, these bays are developed from the structure by growth, and not forced upon it by caprice.

The necessity of bringing the north and south ends of the design into a common scale of height with the court buildings, at the points where comparison is challenged between them, suggests the raising of the main cornice here to a level 11 feet higher than that established on the long fronts by structural conditions. These ends are thus converted into distinct façades of seven great bays, the two corner bays and the central bay in each becoming marked as pavilions, the former being 60 feet wide, to correspond with the width of the inclosing galleries behind them, and the latter, which, from considerations of proportion, grows into a width of 80 feet, becoming the main portal of the building. In all cases the massive and buttress-like character of the piers is insisted on, and, in order to preserve the unity of the design, each constitutes the pedestal of a bannerstaff, thus conferring the conventional holiday aspect on a sky-line which might otherwise appear too serious and severe for association with the other buildings of the group. The larger scale of the north and south fronts and their more monumental character have suggested the occupation of each of these seven bays by a great arch, those on the corner pavilions being

closed with windows, and the intermediate arches being open with a two-storied loggia behind; but in the central bay the idea of the portal compels the raising of its cornice, the crowning of it with a highly decorated frontispiece in pedimental form, and a marked increase in width, height, and depth of the arch, which is not divided by the loggia of the second story. The superior height and development of this feature also seems to mask the glazed gable-end of the great roof of the central hall; which, however, may be seen in perspective 60 feet behind the line of frontage. The corner bays are furnished with visible low domical roofs supporting circular lanterns. In order to obtain a necessary amalgamation between the monumental masses which form the ends of the building and the long inferior curtain-wall with its nine bays on the east and west sides, it is found necessary in the central bay of these sides to establish a proportionate distribution of masses by repeating in it the motive of the corner bays with their higher entablature, and by crowning it with a pediment, treating the archway as a subordinate entrance or exit in the middle of the long fronts.

Mr. Beman has not attempted to follow the historical styles with precision. Indeed, the logical development of his façades has necessarily conferred upon them a proper modern character. We, however, may see here the influence of the example of the great modillion cornices of the Italian palaces of the sixteenth century, and much other Italian detail of the best eras, mingled with some of the elegant license of the modern Renaissance of France; and in the treatment of the balconies of his loggia, and of the Doric order which upholds them, we may discover a return to the Rome of the Caesars. The sculpturesque modeling of this building was executed in the ateliers of the Phillipson Decorative Company of Chicago.

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THE CHATELAINE OF LA TRINITÉ.1

BY HENRY B. FULLER.

Author of "The Chevalier of Pensieri-Vani."

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URELIA WEST, on witnessing the departure of her Italian acquaintance tive country, had supposed herself irretrievably devoted to the Teutonic side of the Alps, and reasonably beyond the reach and influence of any other land or race. Had she not just passed within a few hundred yards of the Rütli, still flourishing greenly with the memories of mountain freedom? Was she not now within a mile or two of the birthplace of the liberator and hero of the land? Had she not beheld within the last hour the monumental rock commemorating at once the hero and his poet? Was she not now surrounded on every hand by scenery the noble grandeur of which might well match and offset even such name and fame? Aye, truly. How pitiful, then, that a wall dingily stuccoed and rudely lettered with the simple word albergo should so put the unthrift and melody of Italy before her as to wipe out completely the glorious Vierwaldstätter See, and make all Switzerland as but a thing that was not! How deplorable that the good-natured clamor of a company of untidy, uncoated young fellows playing tenpins with the ordinary sprinkling of sei and sette and otto, and no more than the usual allowance of adesso and allora, should have been equal to the canceling of the lines on Tell's own pedestal, and even able to obliterate the lofty inscription on the Mythenstein itself! To think that Schiller and William Tell, and Altdorf and the Axenstrasse and the Frohnalpstock, and other Teutonicalities innumerable, should have been bowled over and sent flying helter-skelter by the hand of an ignorant, unwashed Italian peasant! To think that one who had but to pick and choose among the multiplied magnificences of all Helvetia should, even for a single moment, experience an unreasoning impulse to forego Leman and Lucerne, Pilatus and the Jungfrau, the Tête Noire and the Gemmi, the Oberland and the Dolomites, in order to plunge headlong across the St. Gothard and make one's instant way to Como and Venice and Rome! But such is Italy.

VOL. XLIV.-72.

549

This was the acute and incongruous emotion that sported with Aurelia West as she stood before the Tell statue at Altdorf, and a feeling not altogether dissimilar-being different in degree only, and not in kind -came over her after the first day or two of their stay in Salzburg. They were on the extreme northern edge of the Alps, and yet there were many things in the aspect of the place to suggest that they might be on the extreme southern edge. Aurelia did not fully apprehend the complication of considerations that had combined to this effect; she did not know that frequent conflagrations had well nigh wiped out the bristling awkwardness of German medievalism, or that the magnificent but mistaken tastes of a long line of baroque bishops had favored the Italian influence in architecture no less than in music; but she had some sense of the moderation and restraint shown everywhere in the skylines, and the various domes and church-towers, and fountains and palacefronts, seemed almost unbroken reflections of Fontana and Bernini and Maderno. Indeed the handsome quays along the Salzach might almost have come from Pisa; the high-perched old fortress up on the Mönchsberg suggested Bellinzona, or even the Belvedere at Florence; the outlines of the encircling mountain-amphitheater, with the Hochstaufen, the Untersberg, the Tennengebirge and the rest, seemed sufficiently suave and fluent to harmonize with the other features of the panorama; while from every convent and abbey-Benedictine, Ursuline, Franciscan-came subtle whiffs of a somber, uncompromising, and poetically mysterious Catholicism. It seemed like Italy; indeed, it almost was Italy Italy in a blond wig.

Nor was Aurelia long in discovering that in leaving the Lake of Uri for the valley of the Salzach they had simply exchanged one hero for another. Patriotism gave way to melody; Tell was supplanted by Mozart. The fanatical frenzy of the musical amateur appeared early and in all its virulence both in Zeitgeist and the Governor, and it became evident that as long as they remained in Salzburg- most exquisitely lovely of all German towns though it be-nature was to take a place secondary to art. They visited in rapid and regular course the house where Mozart was born, the house in which he subsequently lived, that other house (removed hither all the way from Vienna and set up on the Kapuzinerberg across the river) in which he composed certain of his works, and also that other house where manuscripts, portraits, and piano combine to make a veritable little Mozart museum. Zeitgeist caressed with a shining eye the faded physiognomy of that meager little clavier, and the young women gave

forth a sympathetic sigh as they scanned the painted lineaments of its one-time owner, but the Governor's attention was almost completely concentrated on the manuscripts; a thousand musical bees were already buzzing in his bonnet, and he was coming to feel that to leave Salzburg without a leaf or two of copy from the master's own hand would be to confess their visit pitifully resultless indeed.

But he was prepared to be very reasonable in his demands; he would make a point of keeping his expectations quite within the bounds of moderation. To hope for a loose page from the "Zauberflöte" or the "Entführung" would be unwise; to look for a bit of scoring out of one of the great symphonies would be absurd. But something any little thing at all, however small, however simple - should be, must be, found: a scrap from some one of all those numberless masses, a trifling set of exercises for the piano; though truly the thing he most desired was some little sonatina or other arranged for cello, piano, and the flauto transverso-an unlikely combination, indeed, but still among the possibilities. Included in their lodgings on the quay there was a dimmed old rococo salon of the last years of the last century, and it had struck him that an evening of chamber-music there- a kind of memorial service, read, as it were, from the master's original manuscript would not be inappropriate. He seated the Chatelaine at the passé piano, dressed her in brocade, powdered her hair, canopied her with loves and graces, and illumined her with clusters of wax-lights. Zeitgeist and he completed the group, but they were both indeterminate in costume, and not too plainly in view; while Fin-de-Siècle and Aurelia West merely existed negatively, and quite outside the frame, as audience. To provide the proper pabulum for such a feast he would use any fair means, and if fair means were found to fail, then he would use —

Aurelia West lent herself sympathetically to the Governor's idea; she had some sense of the fit, the effective, the pictorial, and she was already revolving plans of her own, according to which the Chatelaine was to be shown properly situated, attended, circumstanced; but Finde-Siècle held quite aloof -apparently-from all this musical madness. He had but an imperfect sympathy for any form of art whose method of expression was such as to make impossible the incorporation of criticism. What expression of opinion was there in a fugue? What point could possibly be maintained by a sonata? Why should the artist, pen in hand, choose to content himself with the inarticulate, when the articulate itself, with all its wonderful opportunities for comment, criticism, controversy, was within equal reach and of infinitely

greater influence? How infinitely better to argue than to rhapsodize; how much finer to judge than to create; how far superior the commentator to the mere fancifier!

It was from the heights of the Kapuzinerberg, well above the monastery and none too many steps from the threshold of Mozart's own house, that Fin-de-Siècle was waving with so much energy, and hardly less sincerity, the red flag of modernity. Across the river lay the old town, penned in by the long heaving sweep of the ragged and uneasy Mönchsberg, and above the high-heaped towers of Hohen-Salzburg the last segment of the rocky, snow-flecked amphitheater began to lapse away easily into the featurelessness of the Bavarian plain. Below them, in the square between the quay and the towered flank of the cathedral, rose the statue of the immortal composer himself, and before this presence the oriflamme flaunted by Fin-deSiècle took on, in the Governor's eye, a tinge more sanguinary still. To find the mainspring of art in a criticism of life, as a certain great Anglais had expressed it, was, he declared, absurd; to base it on a fondness for the representation of life, like a certain acute Américain, was better, though inadequate: but to see art both as the exercise and the result of a trained self-expression-a self-expression prompted by the inner necessities of the individual-was better still. From this point of view the main consideration was the artist himself; he must look to it that his self-expression was adequate, correct, emollient. The artist was the exact opposite of the polemist, the one expressing himself, the other impressing himself; nor should one ignore the fact that the value of words, in an age of words, was likely to be overestimated. The second consideration involved the circle to whom the artist made his close, immediate appeal, as well as those impressionable outsiders, unknown to him personally, but presumed to exist somewhere in a state of receptive and responsive sympathy. The third consideration was the-but for the artist absolute, the artist pure and simple, there is no public. As regarded other art-workers, those prompted by emulation, request, mimicry, or necessity to duplicate, imitate, extend the work resulting from the exercise of this first creative impulse, there was a word for them: one man is an artist, another is "artistic"; just as one man is a gentleman while another is only a "gentlemanly person." Really, the great thing was that the artist should feel the prompting of the creative spirit in him, and should realize the relief that comes from an outward and sensible expression of the inward and the insensible. Then it was largely a question of selection, proportion, arrangement, presentation; and even if the outward form were partial, broken, ob

scure, fragmentary-the Governor paused and glanced modestly askance. His thoughts had turned toward Aventicum, and he hoped that some one might see the way to weaving a laurel wreath and placing it upon his brow then and there. But no one offered to, and he made the mortified resolve that the next time he went fishing he would use a bigger bait.

Zeitgeist did not feel prompted to go out of his way to support Fin-de-Siècle, but he disliked to see the Governor put himself deliberately in the wrong by ruthlessly classing artworkers of the second rank among the amateurs. Taste and technic, he thought, were enough, without creative intelligence, to put a man among artists and to keep him there. The idea, however, that the artist was the central point in his own circle he accepted readily enough; and the other idea, too, that the artist's proper and primary appeal was to his own circumference. Had not the Salzburg master himself declared that no one should try to be a composer save him who wrote because he must? And had he not to a lavish and unprecedented degree showered his own quick-coming fancies, for the asking, or less, upon friends, family, associates, mere acquaintances? What other spirit, indeed, would have made chamber-music what it was-the great feature of the greatest musical age? Chamber-music, in fact, was this young man's besetting dissipation. His apprehension of music was mainly intellectual; he delighted in the tough, the abstruse, the over-technical. He trudged on in the treadmill of a fugue with a light-footed alacrity, and could follow a subject in double counterpoint from the score with absolute avidity. A lady had once told him that the playing of his quartette was tiresome. To whom? he had asked. To her, she had replied. And then he had quieted her by saying that chamber-music was meant to interest, not the listeners, but the performers. As for the Governor, his delight was wholly in his own work. He played quite indifferently, but he took more pleasure in the uncertain pipings of his own flute than in any sevenfold chorus of hallelujahs and harping symphonies in which he had no share. I doubt if even the very harmony of the spheres would have seemed quite to his taste, unless resulting in part from the puckering of his own lips.

But it was idle to stand disputatiously on the panoramic height of the Kapuzinerberg in expectation that some chance breeze from below might waft them up a page of manuscript; so during the course of the day the Governor repaired to a certain small shop in an obscure part of the town where, as a friend had advised him, he might be able to satisfy his requirements. It was in a street close to the base of the Mönchsberg, against whose steep rise the houses were

effusion through France, the academies, conservatories, and theaters of Italy, and all the courts of Germany. But

attached, and in whose side they were partly excavated. The place was in charge of a substantial matron, who drew her hand across her mouth with a kind of anticipatory relish, and The Governor could not escape the pitiful who jostled aside a collection of dusty and force of this but. He gave a faint sigh, and abdented curios to make space for the spreading sent-mindedly creased and recreased the dingy out of her musical merchandise. She had some- leaflet in his hand, quite unconscious of the thing to show, and she knew it; she opened up indignant impatience of the shopwoman. Yes, in a way that more than redeemed the prom- he declared; here, if anywhere, was reason for ise of the place, and that made the Governor's belief in the active interference of a malignant wish seem not so very difficult of gratification, fate in human affairs; no career that he was at after all. She had not only Mozart-that was all acquainted with showed such a disheartenmerely the beginning. She had Gluck, Haydn, ing discrepancy between cause and effectMendelssohn; Rossini, hotchpotchy, an ome- such a painful, inexplicable hitch between let in notes; Liszt, bizarre, erratic, a play- means and end. It was not enough to say that ing to and fro of chain-lightning; a letter of Mozart was naturally something of an innovaBeethoven's, a sad jumble; a page of Rous- tor, and was too absorbedly bent on the free seau, the slow, painstaking momentumless- vent of his own copious fancyings to keep within ness of the half-amateur; and bits of the local academic bounds: Gluck had broken through master à discretion. One of these last Zeitgeist the bars more completely, and had compelled held in his hand, studying it long and carefully. recognition in a widened field. It would not Then he handed it over to the Governor and do to say that the line between the musician asked him if it were possible to detect in such and the servant was not drawn very clearly in pen-work any peculiarity of character or tem- that day, and that where all the great families perament that could properly, even possibly, the Esterhazys, the Gallitzins, the Lichtenexplain the life and death that the composer steins-maintained complete orchestras, and was made to live and die. What other manu- ordered new symphonies and serenatas just as scripts of all those lying around them could they ordered new coats or new table-cloths, compare with Mozart's in care, order, regu- the very number of musicians employed would larity, lucidity?—a golden mean between the work against the full recognition of the indidownright, bull-headed vigor of Bach and Han- vidual. Haydn, under these conditions, had del on the one hand, and the over-delicate, too made himself a permanent and respected place. refined touch of Chopin, or the morbid and neb- It was not well to lay too great stress on the ulous page of Schubert on the other; a pattern clouds of infinitesimal and multitudinous cabaof arrangement, of moderation, of general rea- lists that swarmed and stung on every stage to sonableness that almost, indeed, grazed the the desperation of the composer and his symcommonplace. The general course of his life, pathizers: all the other composers of the day too, had exhibited the same effect of mod- labored under the same disadvantage as well. eration, self-possession, and decorum that his It would not be greatly to the purpose to say manuscripts displayed. His father, a sober and that the astounding precocity of Mozart's childexemplary Christian, had given his childhood hood had prejudiced his subsequent career; instruction (if such extraordinary and myste- for the boy who at four composed pieces for rious precocity in all matters musical can be the clavier, at six astonished the monks of Wassaid to have received or required instruction), serburg by his performance on the organ, at and had accompanied his youth and early man- seven rebuked the slow appreciation of the hood (an exceptionally filial one) with advice Pompadour, and at fifteen conducted his own and watchful care. Accustomed from his ear- opera at Milan to the wonder and admiration liest years to the most ungrudging, most un- of all Italy, never received an iota of appreciabounded recognition of his marvelous gifts, he tion from his chief patron and most evil of all had earnestly struggled on in a career which evil stars, the Archbishop of Salzburg, who fed he felt his own qualifications demanded and him at table with valets and cooks, and who deserved. His was a nature foreign to excesses rewarded the complete dedication of his time of whatever kind; in the main he was temper- and talent by an honorarium of two ducats ate, self-controlled - he kept himself well in a year. Indeed, the more one pondered the hand. His disposition was noticeably sunny case the more one was tempted to escape from and sanguine; his personality was peculiarly its meshes by recourse to reasons too puerile. sympathetic and winning. His self-respect, too simple, to be accepted by many as reasons while an active quality, was not so bumptiously at all. Was it not probable that Mozart, with self-assertive as to put him at an undue disad- his enjoyment of familiar human intercourse, vantage in the society of the day, while his showed too great a facility in sliding down to name and fame received an early and wide meet non-genius on its own plain, common,

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