New-York tribune., 1922-12-31
:ome Reflections on Beauty
For the New Year

NnOs as W Nnl5ticf Saius saw picturesque /
grandeur and noble dignity In the I
jews quarter Of Amsterdam. and la
mented not that It's inhabitants were
not Greeks" There Is nothing IN the /
Metropolitan Museum more beautiful
than Rcmbrandt's "old Woman Cutting
Her Nails" a disgusting subject made
sublime because he saw Il beautifully. |
There is nothing 10 be formulated |
about this process One must simply I
attribute il &c the creative impulse Of
the true artist. transmogrifying what
he touches. in the glow and action Of
his genius he sees and feels with
supernatural intensity and the rapture
Of his vision passes into what he does.
It thus operates in all the arts. With
patience end humility read book
like "Babbitt," wondering what all the
fuss Is about. What distreses me Is
not the genial Bsbbitt himself. am
willing TO swallow him whole, willing
TO believe that the country is fairly
stopping over with Rabbits. II is the
author, as artist, who beats me. lie
records his facts with the aesthetic
emotion OF a man compiling a tele-
phone book. Think Of what Balzac
would have done with II. Balzac de-
scribing a moldy wall until you feel
that Yer Nicer might have painted i'll
Balzac secs beautifully
I've been looking at bundle Of
photographs from the scenery painted
not long ago for "The Ring" at the
Prinzregenton Theater in Munich.
Lothar Weber painted 10 after designs
by Leo Pasetti and Adolph Linnebsch.
Studied side BY side with photographs
of the old scenes, some OF these recent
effects seem amazing improvements.
They give you symbolical line and
mass I'm place OF old-fashioned ford
realism. Color, am told by the friend
who lends mo the photographs, does
not count nearly as much as form,
and often gauze curtains arc used still
further 10 mitigate the tone. The light
ing. as is inevitable nowadays, counts
enormously. ! infer that II the scenes
come OF 10 is because the simplicity
in them Is not too self-consciously or
eanized, and illusion is created in
terms harmonious with the character
Of the drama. In poetry, VIC are told
the illusion is everything. Is II not
so on tho stage? That was the great
source Of Monroe Hewlett's success
when he made tho scenes for "lphi-
oeniaD at the Metropolitan in 1916.
Don't YOU remember the Homeric back
ground he gave US for the first act
and the temple scene in the second
how faithful they were to the spirit
of Tphigenia'--and Of GluekY HIS
scenery didn't fence in the action, It
sv,npathetically envcloped It. ] don't
know or care whether Hewlett turned
archaologist or not fo- that enter
prise-toward which, as I understand
Mr.. Otto Kahn and Mr.. Gatti-Casazza
bent their energies with view TO the
encouragement Of American art In the
theater. 7 only know that the problem
was beautifully seen.
Isn't there consolation in the cpl
sode7 Tho opera house has its happy
moments. Set the Tphigenia" against
the huge bonded warehouse Of stone
which was erected on the stage when
MAILER took "Fidelio" in hand. Set
the delightfully."- picturesque Boris
against the deplorable Tristan" And
set against al the discouraging things
the profound truth that beauty sooner
or later has its way. Says Andrew
Lang;
There stand two vessels by the Fo'oeh
+ v.,,, ,l,lse ,n no scatters mirih and scatters
moan DO men that die.
Take the mirth and let the moan CO.
The tawdriest Of settings passes at
long last TO the scrapheap. Whistler
knew. and l must quote him again;
1--WE have then but TO wait-until, with
the mark Of the gods upon him-there
comes among as again the chosen
who shall continue what has gone be-
I fore. Satisfied that, even were he
never % appear. the story Of the beau
nful is already complete-hewn in the
marbles OF the Parthenon-and broi-
dered. with the birds, upon the fan OF
Hokusai-a at the foot Of Fusiyama."
Who shall continue what has gone
before love that saying. In art
there IS, spiritually speaking, no such
thing as the past. Chronology Is
largely a matter Of conversational con-
vcnience. The masterpieces Of an
tiquity arc preserved, immobile, in the
rooms Of a museum. with dates over
the door, but IL is a mistake TO think
Of them as held, in time, in kind OF
atrophy within airless, water-tight
compartments. They are, rather, IKE
the waves Of the sea, that only seem
to die as they 90 on endlessly repro
ducing themselves, responsive to some
ground swell Of divine energy come
straight from Olympus. What a date
less thing is beautyl
felt this conviction anew the other
day when went to Duveen's and saw
some marvellous old Italian portraits.
There was a curious young bulbous-
browed prince by Pisanello, his i'm
pertinent nose tilted against a back
ground Of pure color. His prim shoul
| Dor ,-nrc errnlhnd in hlnn nnd nnld