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nize the drift of popular sentiment in Japan, cleverly directed and held in check by the ruling oligarchy, toward certain conclusions involved in the settlement, and the manipulation of the external propaganda in conjunction with it. Japan has assured the world, in general terms, of her intention to respect the integrity of China. Port Arthur is a part of China; yet gradually there has been disseminated throughout the world an impression that Port Arthur will come to Japan as a matter of course, as one of the legitimate fruits of victory. References are made to how Japan was "robbed" of Port Arthur in 1895 by the interference of Russia. If it is suggested that Japan positively disclaimed any intention of acquiring territory at the expense of Korea or China, it is explained that leased territory was not meant to be included. Russia, it will be remembered, was occupying the lower end of the Líao-tung peninsula under the terms of a limited lease wrested from unwilling China at a moment when she was alike friendless and helpless; a transaction to which Japan objected at the time. By a juggling of phrases, Japan makes it now appear that she always wished it understood that she intended to keep Port Arthur if she ousted the Russians. She is proceeding as rapidly as possible to fix herself in permanent possession, having already changed the name of the port of Dalny into Japanese, and is hurrying the refortification of Port Arthur with all speed, although it is not threatened with attack. I will not pause here to elucidate what the seizure of Port Arthur by Japan, or any great military power, means to the future of the Orient, but will reserve it for discussion later. That she intends to hold it is now openly admitted, and so cleverly has the propaganda managed the gradual disclosure of her purpose that it has occasioned scarcely any comment in the Western press. As for the Japanese people, they regard the permanent acquisition as already an accomplished fact, and any suggestion by the powers that Japan disgorge would undoubtedly cause great popular indignation and revive the old cry of "robbery."

But it is not in regard to Port Arthur and the Russian leasehold alone that the insidious work of the propaganda is felt; in fact, its more delicate subtleties are reserved for treatment of more important matters. In the phraseology of many press dispatches

sent out from this part of the world referring to the possible terms of the settlement there is conveyed a carefully veiled impression of great importance to Japan's ambitions and purposes. This is the repeated reference in various connections to the Liao-tung. In the early stage of the war the usual phrasing was "Liao-tung peninsula"; but gradually the word peninsula has been dropped. As a result, in the Western press the two terms have become synonymous, and if, in some editorial sanctums the distinction is still clear, it has entirely vanished, if it ever existed, from the popular mind. And even with the word peninsula appended the phrase has been so manipulated by the propaganda as to be popularly considered to mean something it does not. When the average Englishman or American reads in his morning newspaper that Japan will probably insist upon indefinite or permanent occupation and administration of the Liao-tung peninsula, he gets the impression that what is meant is the small peninsula included in the Russian leasehold and on which are situated Dalny and Port Arthur. But here he is wrong. The peninsula included in the Russian leasehold is the "Kwang-tung" not the Liao-tung. The Liao-tung peninsula is that part of Manchuria south of a line drawn east to west from the mouth of the Yalu to the port of Newchwang, and embraces a large territory, including the Kwang-tung peninsula. The "Liao-tung" includes still more. "Tung" is the Chinese word for East, and "Liaotung" means east of the Liao River, which rises in the mountains of north central Manchuria and flows by a southerly course into the gulf of Liao-tung, entering the gulf at the port of Newchwang. Thus "Liaoyang" means a departmental city east of the Liao, and so the significance of the terms run through the nomenclature of the whole country. The "Liao-tung" proper, therefore, refers to all that part of Manchuria lying east of the Liao River, and embraces fully one-third of its total area, including Mukden and Kirin, the two most important cities of the old kingdom. To what extent Western diplomacy is misled by this clever substitution of terms in public discussion of events in the locality of the war I do not know, but instances in international affairs where such subversions have been successfully instituted into treaties are not

unknown. However that may be, I consider it advisable to present the facts. Some day in the near future the English and American press may awake to the discovery that it has been acquiescing in, if not actually advocating a turning over of Manchuria to Japan. And even if the press should, with full knowledge of the distinction, advocate such a condition, it will be well for the public to bear it in mind in following the discussion of the settlement. The correct meaning of the term is well understood in the East, and that part of the Chinese native and foreign press subsidized by Japan is being utilized to prepare the Chinese Government and people to be resigned to the sacrifice.

Reverting for a moment to popular sentiment in Japan concerning the settlement, there is no doubt that the masses of the people not only fully expect to retain Korea and a considerable part of Manchuria, but their ambition and expectation leaps much farther. I have noticed colored cartoons in the shops, couched in the same spirit of vainglorious pride that characterizes the war prints outlining the newer Japan which will be the result of the war. Delineated in map form these cartoons make a very pretty geographical composition, calculated to stimulate to the utmost the rising tide of Japanese imperialism. They embrace that part of Siberia east of the Amur, including the island of Saghalien; the eastern half of Manchuria, or the Liao-tung proper somewhat extended; and the whole of Korea. This converts, as a glance at the map will show, the Sea of Japan into another inland sea, politically speaking. It is truly a very pretty ambition that is thus sinking into the mind and heart of the average Japanese. There is not the slightest reasonable doubt that it is being quietly stimulated by the ruling oligarchy, which is at present entirely under the control of the military party, and if occasion arises it may be pointed to as a reason why the Government cannot comply with its first announced intentions. The war party is so completely in the saddle that it scarcely deigns to listen to the suggestions, much less be influenced by the civil branches of the administration. Conservatism is being rapidly pushed into the background. The War Department rules the country, and for the moment sways the destiny and impulses of the nation. Soon after the battle of Mouk

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All military plans stopped when Moukden was taken. Beyond there begins a new policy, born of the confidence of success.

There are, however, certain possible checks upon the growing spirit of jingoism; but a consideration of these must be deferred to another article. Chief among them is, naturally, the British alliance, which, with other possible external forces, should be closely surveyed. One hopes that the seeming enthusiasm evinced by the British press for an extension and amplification of the alliance with Japan, with its accompanying evidence of an inclination to support her ally in her wildest pretensions, may be set down to mere outcroppings of her accustomed Russophobia. I have reason to think that Japanese statesmen do not look to the British alliance for support beyond a certain point, hence the increasing energy of the propaganda in England. As to the intentions of Japan in China and Korea, adhering to the policy of basing this correspondence as far as possible on what is being done, rather than what is being said, further comment must await a study of conditions on the spot.

TOKYO, JAPAN.

IT

Criticism and Biography

T is not until we read a biography like that of Edward Burne-Jones, written by his wife, that we realize how almost essential to a critic is thorough biographical knowledge of the man whose work he is reviewing. The perfectly equipped critic, I humbly submit, must first have been, in fact, a biographer. In no other way can he possibly get at the mind and temperament expressed by the work lying so innocently open to his gaze. His temptation naturally is to look at the mass of achievement as an integral whole and the work of one mind in its perpetually creative mood. He thinks of "The Amazing Marriage" as by the same hand that wrote "Beauchamp's Career," and of "The Golden Bowl" as drawing from one source with "Watch and Ward." Even at inspired moments when, realizing how different a thing is youth from maturity and maturity from declining years, he manages to trace logically the development of a style or an attitude of mind, he is still under the thrall of a single impression, and almost invariably writes with an eye upon consistency and continuity. When, however, he turns biographer he becomes increasingly conscious of the moments at which man puts off the old and puts on the new. He becomes aware that the action of environment, of experience, of life, in short, upon an unformed nature produces in time a wholly different combination of elements and practically a new organism. For such a critic to speak, for example, of a "true Browning poem "would be an impossibility. To another making such an allusion he would be apt to respond, "Which Browning?" We all of us have the feeling clearly enough with reference to ourselves that in looking back to an earlier time we see in it a person not ourselves yet leading our life and strangely acting in our name. Lady Burne-Jones quotes with her exquisite simplicity from one of her own letters: "I don't quite know what is coming to us, we go out so much more than we have ever done before, and Edward seems to like it instead of not liking it as he used to do. It is very queer to watch how one changes insensibly as time goes on-sometimes I think I feel a kind of power at work changing me, but can't lay my hand on it or name it." It is indeed "very queer," and very instructing, especially to the

critic with his duty of making out relationships between early and late conditions of mind, or guileless and initiated points of view.

The critic endowed with a sense of responsibility in his calling-it may be that there are no others!-is under no conditions satisfied to feel that he has mutilated the image of a creative mind for his readers. He is not satisfied until he has put together with more or less art the features of that mind to make a credible likeness; but unless he has made himself, for his own needs if not publicly and professionally, a biographer, he does not realize the danger of making that likeness an absurd composite of youth and age. In surveying the work of almost any mature writer worthy of the consideration, he will almost inevitably at one time or another be found speaking of a mental trick of expression as belonging to his ripe period which can be discerned only in the dim product of his youth. It cannot be urged that biographical training invariably prevents this particular kind of blunder and others akin to it. Carlyle, for example, the most passionately enlisted of biographers, was comparatively indifferent to the sequence of qualities and moods in his subjects. His habit was to hang a picture of the hero upon whom he was at work close by him, where he could constantly refer his impression of characteristics to their visible record in facial lines. It was this habit perhaps, or rather the mental proclivity from which it sprang, that enabled him to make his reproduction and interpretation so vital and expressive; but how clearly evident is also the limitation to one period of a complicated development! And Carlyle is the master example of a somewhat widely extended type of biographer. It is conceivable that the critic anxious to spring spontaneously into the exercise of his profes-. sion may object to such a lengthening of his student period as would be made by serious training in biography of the accurate, careful sort; but the annals of biographers are far from gloomy. Carlyle and Sainte-Beuve wrote with equal ecstasy of the charm of the pursuit, and even the meticulous Boswell found his task poignantly inspiring. The whole matter is merely a special application of the old truth that the proper study of mankind is not the dissociated works of man, but man himself.

THE FIELD OF ART

the library of ILLUSTRATED BOOKS each, taken on the same page where are twen

T

SECOND PAPER

HE Field of Art for September, 1903, was devoted to the question of "A Possible Art Library," and the point under consideration was the desirability of having a library somewhere of illustrated books and one which should be based upon the pictures-not upon the text. The title might have been made more limited, more exact; and have been named rather, a Library of Book Illustration. It was imagined that the catalogue might be alphabetized under the names of the illustrators-Oliver Twist under Cruikshank, Henry Esmond under Du Maurier, the French Revolution under Vierge instead of Michelet, "Les Contes Drolatiques" under Doré and "Les Contes Remois" under Meissonier. Other considerations go with that of the catalogue; thus the illustrations and not the text should be considered in the placing of the books in their cases. The desideratum was stated to be the ignoring of the text except as it explains, sets off, provides, a background for the pictures.

When we regard illustrated books in this way, the books of the succeeding epochs are found to be exceedingly different, each chronological group from all others; and it is curious to see, as the seventeenth century comes in, burin engraving on metal plates tending to replace wood engraving as the means of illustration. This we see naturally in the Italian and German books; that is, in those of the countries where metal engraving had taken a decided hold on even popular taste, long before the year 1600.

In 1586 there had been issued a curious book on the physiognomy of man with a woodcut portrait on the title-page representing the author, Giovanni Battista della Porta; and a popular edition, translated from the Latin into the Italian, is dated 1598. An indefinitely great number of prints from copperplates are given in this book, sometimes two separate prints, with two or three subjects

ty lines of typography. Human heads are set side by side with the heads of various beasts and birds, and the assumed resemblance in essentials between the two is strongly insisted on in the accompanying text. "Assumed resemblance"—but in reality the resemblance is forced, and nothing more marked in the way of caricature is conceivable than the human heads which are made to resemble that of a sheep by the insisting on large ears, much curved bridge of nose and large mouth with full hanging lips; or swinish by an exaggerated droop of the inner corner of each eye and the placing of the lips and nostrils very low in the face, far down toward the pointed chin; or asinine by still larger and upward pointing ears made to accompany a prognathous cast of countenance and large, wide-open eyes. These are not very pretty pictures; but they mark in an interesting way the strong tendency of the time toward an encyclopædic sort of study; toward a popularizing of knowledge by means of text and picture. The book undertakes also to give typical faces: Cruelty, and again Shrewdness or Cunning; and in connection with these there are certain imaginary portraits given, some of which may be not wholly imaginary. The portrait of "Carlo re di Francia," that is to say, of Charlemagne, with flowing beard and curls lying upon his shoulders, may indeed be entirely fantastic, but the portrait of Cesare Borgia, who is announced here as Duca Valentino, may be thought to have some foundation in fact. There is a rather good engraving of the Hercules Farnese, one in which its abominable exaggeration is exaggerated again in a way which will be enjoyed by persons who hate that statue; and the last picture in the book shows how the face of man and the face of woman look when combined, the right-hand half of the one with the left-hand half of the other.

In 1610 was printed an edition of the works of that Pirckheimer who was so great a friend of Albert Dürer, and to this there are added

some admirable prints from copperplates. A deceptive copy of Dürer's engraved portrait of the author, dated 1524, is given as a frontispiece, printed flat on the pleasantly rough and soft paper which makes up the whole volume; it is the well-known engraving, Heller 104 (3); Bartsch 106, A. Facing the dedication is a design of allegorical significance which is worthy of a word of description. Invidia (Envy or Jealousy) as a rather

handsome woman holds a human heart with a tremendous pair of blacksmith's tongs "of the period" over a flame on an altar, and Tribulatio is hammering the heart with a tool which I will not try to describe—it must be seen to be believed in. Tolerantia reclines with her head on her hand at the bottom of the picture, and the altar seems to rest upon her, though it is not certain that this effect is intentional. Can anyone explain the significance of that feature, if it is deliberately introduced? Spes (Hope) with finger raised to heaven seems to have brought down by her invocations, from a cooling cloud, a shower of drops which fall upon the tortured heart. This picture is enclosed in a circular medallion which again is planted upon a very elaborate and prettily designed frame the corners of which carry the names of the four personifications, and the frame is hung to the capital of a column which carries a great basket of fruit and flowers, and has cupids with trumpets and other accessories leaning upon its base. The whole picture is extremely effective in design, filling the page beautifully and giving an admirable scrap of intellectual puzzle to the reader-a puzzle of the kind which the seventeenth century dearly loved. The plate has been engraved in an interesting way, the better workmanship given to the more important parts; but never have I met an attribution of it which was other than a guess.

Another plate in this volume is the rather celebrated triumphal procession of Maximilian, the Emperor, his car drawn by six pair of horses which are led by twelve Virtues Experience, Magnanimity, Daring, Alacrity, Moderation, and so on-the Virtues arranged in apparently contradictory couples. Other personified virtues run beside the chariot, the wheels of which are lettered as Magnificence, Dignity, Glory, and Honor, and again a host of noble qualities in the form of fair women surround the Emperor as he sits in triumph and wave wreaths of laurel above his head,

while the sun above forms a crest to the whole composition with the motto, What the Sun is in heaven, that on earth is Cæsar. Now, this is a rather close study, in line engraving, of Dürer's great woodcut, Heller 140, Bartsch 139. It has been very carefully printed from three separate plates upon a huge folding sheet. Heller thinks that it may be the work of Heinrich Ulrich; but his reasons seem inadequate.

It is evident enough that this is not an illustrated book in the noble and simple sixteenth-century sense, but the book should none the less be entered under the names of those designers who have made it so attractive. We are not likely to-day to read the letters of Pirckheimer, nor yet those of his mother, the reverend abbess of the order of St. Clair. Moreover, the historical essay at page 52 will not be studied by those who rather enjoy the picture opposite it, of the famous Igel monument. That is the precious Roman memorial which is near the railroad between Treves and Cologne, and which, when my photograph of it was made stood in a farmyard grown up with brambles and protected by them alone. Naturally it is more ruinous now than it was about 1605; the sculptures of the basement story and the inscription on large slabs above them at the foot of the principal sculptures are almost wholly unintelligible now, and one would like to feel certain that the old print may be trusted. The old rule was, of course, to disregard facts almost wholly in representing the monuments of antiquity—to draw them as the designer thought they ought to be drawn, with his own notions of classical dignity replacing their actual character; but there is one thing which makes one believe that pains were taken in this case, and that is the giving of the inscription on a larger scale at the bottom of the plate. It is very prettily engraved in Roman capitals and looks as if somebody had copied off the original, letter by letter, and with conscientious regard for its significance.

There might have been mention, in dealing with the sixteenth century, of those remarkable books of fence, which were then so common. They were even more numerous after 1600; and it is very curious to follow in them the changes in the practice of swordplay. P. J. Girard announces his book, published in 1736, as teaching "la manière de combattre, de l'épée de pointe seule"; but

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