The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1895-07-07

burr at the end OF his tongue. Donatella,
beloved of all for her generous heart and
speech, and for the tender poet nature that
idealizes and transforms the world for her
friends. Hygiea, the health of the assem-
bly,, tempering the extravaganza of the
others with sweet reasonableness. There
was Kenneth Malcolm, with his grand
gray head and his scholarly bearing, and
The Dilettante, full of quaint learning and
quaint conceit, venturing with tentative
toe into every pool of speculation and dis
cussion, wary of getting beyond his depth.
A holiday on Olympus would be Incom-
plete without The Dilettante, offering the
cup of inquiry at the same moment that
amber clear, turning to golden brown as
the rich cream poured in. Truly we were
lost without The Dilettante!
Then there was The Chiel amang US,
takin' notes, and The Scribe, reducing the
brightest scintillations of our composite
genius TO the queerest little nen-committal
crow-tracks on paper. All honor to The
Scribe
They were all holiday making upon
Olympus.
The Chiel came upon the scene waving a
manuscript. She had been raiding Ken
meth Malcolm's poetic storehouse. He fol-
lowed, protesting, and would have rescued
his treasure, but Runnymede interfered.
ga poem by Kenneth Twas his-'tis
ours Read it, Chiel"
The plea became general, and with Ken
meth Malcolm S permission The ChieI read:
THE OLD WOMAN.
1 passed an old woman on the windy street.
Crouched in heap beside sack of matches
The litter and dust were blowing in the gray air;
She held her old cap down with frail hand.
Slowly she looked up,
The WEAKNESS OF ages In her face.
She was SO od-so old
CFouched silent on the ever-driftinp street-
SO old. so old, could not bear to look.
I flung her something as hurried on.
(She was so old-so ODD
The litter and dust were blowing in the wind.
When darkness sweeps away the objects in nv
stiil can see that face!
Il is looking at me when wake up in the vast
silence of the night;
II follows me in the noise and hurry of the day.
That face SO old-so old
It seemed the mask of centuries.
o lawyers, making laws-always making lawsl
o judges, asking for precedents-aIways asking for
presidents!
pnbicists talking of the rights of nations-sl.
ways talking of the rights Of nations!
dying rich men, building churches-always build
ing churches
o churchmen, seeking to be saved-always seeking
to be saved
o governors, appointing thanksg1vings- ap-
pointing thanksgivings
Lei Yeur laws are farce, your precedents blind
guides
Your talk the chatter of apes, your churches the
evRsions Of His law
Your salvation pit, your thanksgiving DEVILS
So long as that old woman is in the street,
(She was SO old-so oldD
The Chiel-That seems to me wonder
full example of true realism-the realism
that IS art.
The Artist-Realism, Chiel2 IT'S not
realism at all. Or, rather, it was realism
until it was so transmitted by soul and
heart and feeling that it has become the
highest idealism. That is why it appeals to
US so strongly.
Runnymede-You are right. 1t is not
realism. 1t might have been made so by
other treatment. The poet might have
told us that the woman's face was wrin-
killed.; that she was blear-eyed; that she
was palsied; that she was squalid and
dreadful to look upon. The follower of the
realistic school would have done all this
would have given us photograph, so to
speak, Of the old woman But
Malcolm has not done this, and
yet he has painted for us the
whole picture merely by the artistic itera-
ton of that single phrase-"She was so
old-so old!' Why, look you'll We can
every one of us see that old womanl l
have seen herI 1t was one night, when /
was walking in a street in London with
Henry Irving and brother of my own.
We passed an old woman sitting beside
great pile of matches that she had for sale.
Nv companions did not notice her, but the
sight had terrible fascination for me. l
stopped and took a shilling from my
pocket 81 do not want any Matches" l
said to her, "but will give you this if you
Will laugh, just once" She looked up at
ne, and l shall never forget the contor-