The daily morning journal and courier., 1902-08-29

honest. He still stands sturdily at the head of the guild. None of us can come at him in wit. fancy, style, dignity, beauty of thought, fiereenesS of wrath or courtesy of compliment. For eight and forty years he has served his paper, the public and dramatic art with zeal and diction. On one occasion the Press man, putting up at the Red Horse inn, Stratford-on-Avon, was allowed as a high favor, to engage the suite of rooms occupied by famous personages. MT. William Winter has slept there," said the host, proudly pointing to the bed, and Washington Irving" On further iuquiry it was found that Stratford town held MT. Winter in almost as much veneration as it gives to Shake speare. Our doyen is great man. In stature small, he is large in imagina- tion. Measuring little more than five feet nothing, he reaches over the ocean. No molly coddle, either for he can swear a round oath and quaff a bumper as well as good Sir John. William Winter is a man of parts, and, take him for all in all, we shall not look upon his like again. From California comes he, big with the breath of the woods and armed cap-a-pie against the woman with past. He abhors all manner of immortality in the play and would have us lay our intelleetuals only on Shake speare.
 Of a different humort is Franklin Fyles. This critic rolls the wickedness of the stage as a sweet norsel under his tongue. Under the guise of de- nouncing it, he places the matter before us alluringly. He puts on the air and countenance of purist, but at the same advises us that such things are and we must make the most of them If you see 1t in the Sun it's salacious. It may be that this is the better philosophy of criticism. The drama be- ing wicked, it's review should be au- dacious. You cannot properly describe nude figure by arguing that it is clothed by Paris dressmaker. Mir. Winter would censor Camille" ''Zaza," "Frou- F'rou" and "Dubarry," !" and because Marguerite. slipped from grace he would have us refuse Faust" !" MT. Fyles maintains that conditions ex- isting as they are, it is his duty to tell us all about them. Maybe he thinks that he is a vigilance committee called upon to expose vice, and by that pulp licity to denounce it. Anyway, like the little girl in the ballad, when the dramatic critic is good he is very, very good in the form of Mir. Winter, and when he is bad he is horrfd in the shape of MT. Fyles., Tn his domestic and other relations and in his capacity as play wright this critic is moralist,, but when he goes to the theater Franklin Fyles calls a spade a spade, and there- by often brings a blush to the cheek innocence MT. Winter would refuse countenance to the dramatists of the Restoration, although he loves the classics. MT. Fyles would tolerate Aphra Behn, although he loves virtue.
 Half way between these extremes stands Towse. It is to, be appre- ilended that this worthy man thinks more of himself than of the play. His bushes is to give the views of Towse at great length on any subject what ever. The theater is merely a cork screw which uncorks the bottle of his rhetoric, and thus released the elo- quence of him gurgles forth amiably. He admires nobody, condemns nobody with virility, and when his. Indertak- ing is over we have lost interest in it, As man and brother MT. Towse is admirable, but the Post decides the fate of no play for better or worse. The old ladies who read that journal like its critic first rate, for his dis quisitions are in the form of sermons, and when he dies they will attend his funeral with great equanimity.
 Of different humor is the coadjutor of Towse. Not long ago delegation of women waited upon the managing editor of the Post. we have come," said they vehemently, ''to demand the head of Finck." What has MT. Finck done?" asked the editor. 'Done!" they cried. "Everything that's awful, He keeps us in such a state of mind by abusing Italian opera and Walter Dan- rosch." 'If he irritates you so much, why do you read hin?" asked the edi- tor. Because we have to. How could we ask for his discharge unless we had read his articles?" said the women logically. Well" said the editor, "so many people write so much without having people read them that a man who compels folk to read him and hate him at the same time is valuable to a newspaper. Ladies, commend you, I esteem you, but I cannot oblige you. The Evening Post needs the services of MT. Finck'' The music critic told this anecdote to the Press man with glee. ~s. enemies. Lovely prinla donEas for whose favor rightly constituted citizens would imperil their lives are regarded with scorn by Finck. He loves himself for the enemies he has made. His pen is sharp, his ink vitriolic, and every time hew rites riot ensues in artistic circles. Certain fiery Italians have pro- claimed the vendetta against him. but Finck still lives in spite of the basso's poison and the tenor's dagger. He