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American Artists at the Metropolitan Museum An Exhibition in Memory of the Late Albert P. Ryd? Contemporary Sculpture From Representative Hands?The Fletcher Collection By Royal Cortissoz THE primacy in matters of art which the Metropolitan Museum has de? veloped in recent years has never Been better illustrated than at the present moment. Tour new exhibitions there await the visitor, and all four are of serious interest. In memory of the late Albert P. Ryder a loan collection of his paintings has been assembled in one of the galleries, a collection of forty-eight pieces which must represent very nearly his en? tire life's work. In two spacious rooms on the main floor, near the Park entrance, a special exhibition of American sculpture has been organized. Upstairs, in the gallery which was occupied by the Eakins pictures a little' while ago. the Mr. and Mrs. Isaac D. Fletcher collection of paintings and miscellaneous objects has been installed. Near by, where the new print department makes its exhibitions, there is a brilliant group of the etch? ings and drawings of Rembrandt, arranged in view of the lecture on the! subject which Mr. Kenyon Cox is to deliver at the Museum on March 24.' Two paintings, the portraits given long ago by Mr. Marquant!, are also displayed here. Taken all together these episodes point in a decisive manner to the liberality of Mr. Robinson's administration. If people are increasingly willing to give or lend their treasures to the Metropolitan (of the 23.G75 objects acquired in the last year only 3,628 were purchased) it is undoubt? edly because the policy now controlling looks all the time, in a broad and effective way, to the best interests of the community. THE VISIONS OF A MAN OF GENIUS In the catalogue of the Ryder pict- I ores a number of his verses are printed, and we can sniff the offence they would give to a certain type of artist. Ciearly, such a commentator would tell us, they indicate that he had in his temperament the taint of 1 literary man. There would be, too, the further justification for this view of A PEASANT From the painting by Bastien-Lepage the matter --.it he had a passion for literary subjects, an -i to clinch the ?names? : lamning fact that he had, in our smart modern ser technique at all. What ?tudent, ire h fren: Par:- or ever; fror: the league, could r. - h .- - .-? : I rn how to ?raw? Are :. - the trees in his land? scapes ti est things imagini Be knew - ?thing about Impressionism. ?oi the Inn - tj of nature ?1 E ?sieh Monet and his followers have taught ".? to ? il te highly, r.. to substitute ?- e I ght of th( poi light that rever was on sea or land. Hi? apocalyptic skies ?re flatly incred iei? :-:; in the or-::r.ary ander ?tandir.g of the word, skies filled with an Mthentic rue and relieved by accu? rately modelled cloud forms. Yet Ryder remains an enchanting artist, .the very ioible3 at which we have ??ancec playing into his hand3, assist ?ng rather than retarding: the flow of his inspiration. He had inspiration?that is the all important point. Where many painters infinitely better equipped, technically, have nothing whatever to say, and con? sequently bore us to death. Ryder was so rich in imaginative thought and feel? ing: that we almost forget his technical limitations. Pie had personality, the mysterious magic which in some inde? finable way communicates to the be? ide r a sensation of beauty. Perhaps the most eloquent proof of this lies in the least obviously imaginative of all the works here shown, the landscape called "Weir's Orchard.'' It is a simple pastoral motive, the sort of thing al? most any landscape man might have chosen to treat, and, subjected to the test of technique, the first impression it yields is that almost any landscape man might have made a better job of it. But what of the atmosphere en? veloping it and the personal note it strikes? When Lowell heard Emerson [ecture in the time of his declension when vagueness had descended upor him like a garment, he could not mak? h -ad nor tail of the discourse; but be left the place feeling that "something beautiful had passed that way." Tha ; the conviction with which you tun rom this landscape. It is a sadly fum bled affair, but Ryder has passed tha .y and you are inordinately glad of it iiave alluded to his skies. Look, fo ..ample, at the marine, "Under ? loud," in which a dark sailboat scud r a dark sea, beneath a darke ?.ill. As a study of natural phenom ..:. the picture is hopelessly inade luate, but as a bit of poetic symbolisi it is so thrilling and so beautiful thi one would not exchange it for a doze i i the finest marines Dupr? eve painted. How potent is the sway of the arti , who dreams exquisite dreams ar paints them with sublime sincerit; Ryder's handicaps were of a nature have discouraged most men beyond z patience. Even in the field of cok where he was the more favorably c dowed, he was confined to a rath n?rrow scale, and he had a tendency muddy the deep blueish greens, t tawny reds and the golden yellows wi which he dealt. At times he seems have practically lost control of col as witness the "Macbeth and t Witches/' in which figures and lar scapes are withdrawn into an alrni impenetrable penumbra. Yet fr< amongst the thousands of Shakes; nan illustrations we have seen we ( recall not one that ?3 even to be co pared with this. Indeed, its only ri as a footnote to the play is that am ing essay of De Quincey's, "On Knocking at the Gate, in 'Macbetl ' w,-.h its kindred spiritual insight i the core of the drama. We can imagine Ryder's response to the poignant sim? plicity of the famous stage directions? "Scene, a blasted heath. Enter three witches." He is as free himself from surplusage. We behold his vision as in a flash between thunder claps; it goes as swiftly as it comes, and, thanks to the dense obscurity to which we have referred, we feel for a moment as we sometimes feel in life, as if we have imagined the thing which we had seen. Drama like this, on canvas, is surely extraordinary achievement. There is one supreme merit in Ryder which inclines us to rank him far above any of the men with whom he might be said to have a certain alliance?such men as Burne-Jones, Rossetti, Blake, Moreau, Boecklin and Klinger. This is his prodigious variety. Take the works of any of the artists we have men? tioned and you will find running through them all the "family likeness." due to persistent cultivation of a def? inite line of thought. Ryder's imagina? tion has no fixed haven. He would pairvt a horse in its stable and then "The Temple of the Mind." In his masterpiece, the "Jonah," he seems in the mood of Michael Angelo, but pres? ently, in "Siegfried and the Rhine Maidens," he exchanges the grand style for the truly operatic. He is lyrical, if ever a painter was, in his two ver? sions of "Pagasus," in his "Dancing Dryads," in "The Lovers," and when he paints the "Resurrection" it is as if he had taken Milton, "chief of organic numbers," as a guide to the sweetest solemnity of his strain. We might cite indefinitely the mutations of his genius, the transition from the homely charm of such a rustic, theme as is disclosed in "Mending the Harness," to the romanticism of his "Forest of Ar? den," from the pathos of his religious subjects to the mere sensuous beauty of his sea pieces. But we prefer to go hack to the central source of all these different keys?his wide-reaching imag? ination, the passion in him. always leading on to some new adventure which we can only define as the passior for beauty. We think for a moment ol Monticelli, and that gift of his foi color which carried him sometimes tc the very borders of fairyland. Rydei crossed the borders. He got at th' very heart cf things fairylikc, remote poetic. Color helped him, but th< genius of the poet helped him most oi all. In the support which the Museum haf given to American art our sculptors have not by any means been neglected They have been represented to a cer? tain extent in the permanent collec? tions, especially in the matter of smal bronzes. But not hitherto, save in th( case of the Saint-Gaudens exhibition has their craft received quite th< recognition which has now been paie to it. The new tribute is due, we understand, very largely to the ardor of Mr. Daniel Chester French, who in this exhibition realizes, in fact, a dream entertained for years. It is easy to understand the enthusiasm with which he conceived the idea and worked for it. Roughly speaking, the painters may be said to have everything their own way in New York. Sculpture is brought, into the league and the acad? emy, it appears occasionally in the i "one man" show, as in the case of Mr. ? O'Connor's brilliant exhibition this season, and the dealers do their part; ! but we have had to wait for precisely ; the demonstration that Mr. French has ; promoted at the museum. Made chair ' man of the committee formed among i the trustees, he has also had the ad ! vantage of Mr. Herbert Adams's asso | ciation with that body, and of the spe? cial appointment of Mr, James E. Eraser and Mr. A. A. Weinman as ? members in un advisory capacity. In \ other words, the purpose of the niu : scum has been to have the interests of American sculpture affirmed asitwere . from within, leaving it to experienced ! practitioners of the art to assemble a body of some fourscore examples, to j place them in the appointed rooms, to j determine the treatment of the sur? rounding walls, and in every way to see that the occasion developed the right conditions. Mr. French and his colleagues are to be congratulated on the result. Their exhibition might be character? ized an a condensation of historical evidance, a tangible summary of the traits of a school. They have not attempted too much. The record does ! not throw back too far. In fact, the I only figure from the old regime is Dr. \ Brimmer, whose "Falling Gladiator" is ! welcome as marking the point of de? parture from which our renaissance ?prang. ?The lute J. Q. A. Ward's "Good Samaritan" has been shrewdly elected as an illustration of the tran? sitional period. He well representa the .-tage at which wo were beginning to emerge from Eimmer'a ncadernic I method into a larger freedom, a racier ? naturalism. Mr. French himself, ?n ?"The Angel of Death and the Sculptor" ('one of his earlier works, which re- ! mains one of his best), brings the chronology a little further forward, as does Saint-Gaudens, with the "Adams Monument" and the "Amor Caritas," and there arc others present who, though still in their prime, have some? thing of the relation of pioneers to the school of to-day. Their produc? tions are necessary to the picture and intrinsically good to see. But it is above all things "the school of to-day" I that fills the foreground, the school matured and the school as it is pro? gressing through the efforts of the younger men. The observer who would wish to know the present worth of American sculpture may here find out. It is the problem at large that invites attention, quite apart from the fact that so many of the sculptures have been seen and discussed before and hence require- little, if any individual, comment. One looks to broad aspects of development, to the essential ele? ments in the subject. From this point of view one is at the outset a little disappointed. Originality is the ^reat ' desideratum in the arts. It has always been rare in sculpture. The tremendous upheaval of personality in the Italian Renaissance was a fairly unique oc- j currence. Since that period no country, not even,France, where sculpture has peculiarly flourished, has had anything' like the same galaxy of talents active at one ?time. Our own school is still young. It has developed since Saint Gaudens, no one possessing Rifts as salient as his, and of late some of the youths of brightest promise have fallen under an unfortunate blight. The "archaic" movement, if we may thus loosely designate the current mode represented here by Mr. Paul Manship and Mr. Sherry Fry, threatens to dry up the springs of true plastic art under i the pressure of a specious artificiality, j But happily, this movement gives no j sign that it is to endure. There are j sounder auguries of the future in the works of juniors like Mr, James E. Fraser and Mr. Rudolph Evans. The latter has mad?, a notable statue in "The Golden Hour," a conception un? mistakably derived from Greek sources, but revealing in its quality the vital j workmanship in wdiich American sculpt- j ure must rest if it is to reach a fitting i goal. Originality, we repeat, is not at all abundant in this exhibition, but Mr Fraser and Mr. Evans have it, and what is more, they bring arrestingly to the surface the principal merit of the whole school. I We have ni ready defined that merit. It is vital workmanship, the basing of idea;-; upon an instructed and skilful , handling of form. Often at the Academy or in some of the smaller ex- j hibltions of sculpture we have been constrained to visualize the American school as one devoted entirely to a facile sort of modelling, an easy pretti ness, half deft technique and half Rodinesque fancy. The present collec? tion tells a different story, emphasizing more serious characteristics. There are a surprising number of nudes which are more than gracious and pleasing, nudes like Mr. Adams's "Nymph," for example, winch joins to its idealistic sentiment a remarkable linear distinc? tion. Look at Mr. Beach's "Sacred Fire," at Mr. Barnard's "Woman," at Mrs. Burroughs's "On the Threshold," at Miss Scudder's "Young Diana.". The delightful thing about them all is their vivid quality, rooted in fidelity to life :'nd in thoroughness. Wo underline the last word because in the mass of sculpture nowadays there is so litt.ie knowledge, so little grasp upon structure. Cleverness is everywhere surfaces are adroitlv touched. But too many contemporary, figures have no bowels-- they are hollow empty shells. The best service rendered by this exhibition is the emphasis it places upon work not improvised, but modelled with as much care as sensi? tiveness, as much strength as facility There are some glorious pieces done by men long since gone from us, the late Olin Warner's bust of Alden Weir ;iie last John Donoghue's "Younj Sophocles," both, we like to believe 'teil remembered by every one interest ? : at all in American art. And to mate! hem there are things by living me", dr. Grafly's busts of Paul Bartlett am Frank Duveneck. Mr. O'Connor's viril Soldier" for Worcester, the nude b; Mr. Evans cited above, and Mr. Wein man's "Descending Night," which i almost, if not quite, as beguiling see close at hand in the bronze as'it wa when it. soared into the air at the Sa Francisco exhibition, The object of th show is to make plain the solid achieve ments in American sculpture, the tin establishment of high standards (. technique, the effective play of imag nation in the embodiment of fine idea! It is successful in this. The school hr never before been so creditably illui trated, so cleverly revealed as one i which men of ability are thinking gra\ thoughts and expressing them wit sincere emotion. The bright flan of originality may visit few of ther the gesture in modelling which stam] the rare creative artist may be slow i making itself felt, but that our sculp ure has in it the principle of growl these performances make exhilarating] manifest. We have but little space left in whic to speak of the Fletcher collection. ? antiquities are of a high order, notably the Egyptian statuette of a priest of ? the Ptolemaic period and the Apulian vases. The ancient glass is also of j great interest. The paintings form a curiously mixed yet attractive collec tion. They range from a few old mas- I ters, good if not remarkable examples of Rembrandt, Rubens, Reynolds. Gains? borough and Constable, through a brill? iant specimen of David's academic por- j traiture and a tine group of Barbizon \ pictures to paintings by Raffaelli and , Bastien-Lepage. Of the modern works i the "Woman Guarding Turkeys," by Millet, ?3 the most important, a thor- j oughly--characteristic painting. Gothic and eighteenth century French sculpt- ' ure is represented, there are tapestries. pieces of old stained glass and other works of decorative art. After a year j or so this collection is to be distributed ' through the Museum according to de- | partments. In the mean time it is very handsomely displayed, the temporary concentration bringing out the full value of an important bequest. Notes The late Carroll Beckwith's finished pictures and studies are to be sold at ; auction. They will be placed on view i at the American Art Galleries on March ! 15, the sale following on the evenings of March 20 and 21. The annual exhibition at the Macbeth i gallery of thirty paintings by thirty ? artists has just been opened." It will last until March 27. The Montross gal? lery has an exhibition of pictures by : Anderson, Bellows, Du Bois, Glackens, Pach, Perrine, Tucker and ethers. It continues until the end of the month. Recent paintings by John Sloan may ! be seen at the Kraushaar gallery.! Monotypes by Gustave Verbeck are at the Citv Club. The American Federation of Arts an- ! ??ounces that it will hohl its ninth an- i iiual convention in Detroit. It will last through two day-, May 23 and 24. How the Kaiser's Poisoned News Weakened Russia {Issued by the Committee on Public Information ) ONE OF THF most potent means by which the morals of the Russian army and people have beer, undermined has been by syste? matic work in propaganda among Rus? sian prisoners. Bike most other Ger? man activities, this has been highly or ganized, and it shows a greater psy? chological insight than many of the German methods. This work falls un '-? der several heads; it is quite as un? scrupulous and unrelenting as the measures by which the Germans crushed the physical powers of their i risoners. There is a little illustrated newspaper I in the Russian language, printed by the I Germans, "Russki Vestnik," which is I industriously circulated in all the i prison camps and barracks and was cir j culated in the Russian army. The pris : oner-; read it, since they have nothing 1 else to read, and they fall under its ', spell. The selection and arrangement of illustrations and the tone of the ac c impanying verses and short stories are calculated to produce feelings of gloom, hopelessness, homesickness and thoughts of dear ones at home. They picture the life of the lowly Russian i people as it is affected by war; it lays emphasis on the poverty everywhere, the sick, hungry children, the sobbing mothers, the war cripple : neglected by ! ail and begging at the crossroads and j it the street-;. There is never a cheery I line to be found in this German-made | Russian literature given to the prison ! e.-s of war. Its tenor is always the | same; German strength and prosperity; i Russian weakness in the field and weak i ness at home. There is also a system of "letters ! from prisoners'' intended for Russian | soldiers at the front, the purpose of I which was to widen the ?rap between ?the soldiers and the Kerensky govern ; ment, to estrange the Russians from I the Allies, Russia being urged to free | herself from all engagements, to re i pudiate all financial obligations, and, \ finally, to induce the Russian army to ' 'shout tor peace." These letters aim ? to vilify the English and French, in I the endeavor to kill all desire in the i Russians to fight on their side, to call I a halt to the Russian offensive in Ga ! licia, "since Russia does not need any \ thing from the Centra! Powers" -the ? letters evidently having been written I at the time of that offensive and j finally to draw the Russian and Ger ! man people together. "Russki Vestnik" and other litera I ture like it accomplished what the Ger ' man armies alone could not accom ? plish. They shattered the Russian i front, and they, or other devices like : them, helped weaken the Italians. The articles and poetry in the "Russ? ki Vestnik" are full of high sound? ing appeals to man's highest instincts peace, brotherhood and the equality \ of nations. Kerensky is accused of : militarism. The Russian people want "peace without victory." An issue of ! this newspaper which has reached gov 1 eminent officials at Washington typi \ caliy represents the work it does-. The address of "Russki Vestnik" is ? not to be found in the usual place, but ; at the bottom of the last page appears ? this: "Printing House of Otto Previtz. Berlin, S. W. 61, Gitschinerstrasse," ?which makes the origin of the sheet 1 r asonably < lear. The Cousin of Madame Moreau By Frederic Boutet Translated b\) William L. McPherson Copyright. 1918, by The Tribune Association Here is another Boutet story?in Boutet*? best vein. This author has a singular capacity for grasping an incident or a situation and presenting it with remarkable succinctness and economy of details. His style also has the great clutrm of sobriety?of abstinence from mere surface effects. It is a pleasure to know that the translations of Boutet in this series have met with genuine appreciation in f/i!.s country. All four of the Bou? rel stories which appeared last year were placed high o)i the honor roll of best short stories published in 1917 in American magazines and periodicals, which Mr. EdwarHJ. O'Brien, the literary editor of "The Boston Tran? script," issued a few weeks ago. One of them was triple-starred and tlis other three were double-starred. American writers and critical readers of short stories will appreciate what that listing means. SEVEN' or eight " ladies, important personages in the little city, were assembled in Mme. Delaporte's salon when Mme. Mo-eau entered, fol? lowed by her two daughters, fresh look? ing young women of eighteen and twenty years. Mme. Moreau, who could remember the time, not very long ago, when she entered this salon with great humility, enjoyed the grateful sensa tion, not yet dulled, of beinjr received with marked consideration and of seeing the imposing Mme. Delaporte herself, whose social distinction was ; unchallenged, manifest a certain eager- I ness to greet her. This lady, who was usually the reverse, now seemed full of animation. . "Well! well!" she exclaimed, "he is here. He arrived this morning. And you didn't tell us." "Didn't tell you about what? Who has arrived?" "Your cousin! Lieutenant'Maximil? ian Moreau, the famous aviator. He is coming to be treated at the hot baths near here. As if yo,u didn't know it, you sly fox! Have you seen him yet?" All of Them Talked Together "No, I haven't; I assure you I haven't," protested Mme. Moreau, who seemed flustered, and whom the ladies present quickly surrounded, all of '.hem talking at the same time. Mme. Delaporte interposed: "We understand your discretion, dear friend. But it is a great honor for our town to have such a hero here, and we shall all be very proud and very happy to make his acquaintance. So when he has rested up a little you will present him, won't you? Here, at my house? "I count on you for that," she whis? pered in Mme. Moreau's ear, warmly clasping her hand. This intimacy with Mme. Delaporte had something so flattering in it that ? Mme. Moreau was a little intoxicated. "You may depend on me, dear friend,'' she promised, exhilarated at the thought of permitting herself such a familiarity. Assailed with questions about the officer, she answered as best she could, although, from time to time a painful preoccupation handicapped her in her talk. When she found herself in the street once more, with her daughters, the excitement of her success vanished in an instant and a grave anxiety clouded her face. He Saw His Wife From Afar "We will gc by the office and meet your father," she said. It was the hour when M. Moreau left his bureau. He saw from afar his wife and daughters, and, like an affection? ate husband and father, hurried to meet them. "Walk ahead, girls," said Mme. Moreau. She took her husband's arm and told him what had happened at Mme. Dela? porte's. Joy froze to distress on his handsome, gray-bearded face. His eyes, behind his glasses, dilated with fright. "What shall we do?" asked the wife, in an anguished tone. "1 don't know. It is terrible!" He was so unnerved that Mmt. Moreau saw that she must act. "Come, come, Adolphe, we mus? not be made fools of. There is only one 'thing to do. We must go and find him. Yes. we must go there together?and right away." "Right away?" groaned M. Moreau. "Yes. We'll pass by the house and the children can stay there. You will get your best gloves and your new hat. As for me, I am already dressed." she added, casting a glance at her toilette, which was of imperial violet. The Officer Was Wounded Lieutenant Maximilian Moreau, his arm still in a sling, was at the window when they arrived. "A lady and a gentleman on im? portant business," the servant an? nounced. "Important and urgent," repeated a voice from the other side of the door. "A few minutes of conversation, mon? sieur. We implore you." And, evading the servant, a gentle? man with a gray beard and a lady towned in violet precipitated them? selves into the chamber of the aston xhed officer. "Monsieur," began the male visitor, ?please pardon this intrusion. I am going to explain" "Wait a minute," his companion in? terrupted. "Let me tell him. Monsieur, first of all, some indispensable words about ourselves. We are perfectly re? spectable people; I assure you. My husband is the chief of a bureau in the branch office of a big banking estab lishment. It ia a confidential position. i ara the daughter of a public function? ary. My brother ?3 a professor. I have two daughters, the elder of whom is I engaged to the son of a noUtry. So, I repeat, our family is perfectly respect? able. No one need blush for us." "Madame, I do not doubt what you say, I assure you of that," began tho officer, somewhat nonplussed. **But why all these details?" "They are indispensable, monsieur? indispensable. You will see why. Our name is Moreau Monsieur and Madame Adolphe Moreau." "Your name is the same as mine." "Exactly," broke in the husband. "So you will understand" "My dear, please let me talk," said the wife. "But I don't catch the point at all," interjected the officer, whose growing astonishment was now eomnlicated with a sense of amusement, which he tried to conceal. "Monsieur." continued Mme. Moreau, with a sombre air, "it is your glory which is the cause of everything. They drove' us into it, monsieur. When your name appeared in the newspapers they overwhelmed us with questions. They thought we were related we and you. And so, in the end, we let them believe that you were a relative. It was not premeditated. It came about of itself. We were caught, in the whirl of ether people's imagination. The consideration shown us increased as your fame spread. They kept ask? ing us for details, and we gave them d?tails. We told anecdotes about you. And we were proud of you, monsieur, as proud as if you were really our cousin, as they all believe you are." He Would Not Repudiate Them 1 Mme. Moreau paused. Then .she con ! tinued with fervor: "Now, if you repudiate us, we are , lost. Yes, monsieur, lost. Consider our situation in this city my situation among the people with whom I as? sociate; with the family of my daugh ter's fianc?; my husband's situation in . his bureau. Think of our humiliation if they learn the truth. We should tall from a great heignt. We should be made ridiculous forever." She stopped again and then mur? mured timidly: "If you were willing, it would be only a little thing to do. Naturally, we do not ask you yourself to gloss over the truth. But if sometimes you could v/alk a little with u< in the park. And then if you would allow me to intro? duce some of my friends to you. And if you would write your name in a few albums. That would be enough. We don't want to impose upon your good nature; that is to be clearly under? stood." Breathless with emotion, she lapsed into silence. M. .Moreau wiped the perspiration from his temples. The officer, without saying a word, looked at them with hin clear and confident eyes. The adventure seemed more or less diverting to him. Nut for a sec : ond had he thought of getting angry. On the contrary, ho had a feeling of something like pity for these good people who in their whole- narrow, shabby life had had but this one spa? cious vista?the reflection of his glory, which they had naively stolen from him. "Very well, my cousin; I'll stand by you," he answered with an Indulgent smile. Arlington Galleries Exhibition of Landscapes By Robert H. Nisbet Until March 21 Inclusive 274 Madison Avenue (40th St.) s__) M0NTR0SS GALLERY SPECIAL F.XIUBITIOS Anderson, Bellows, Da Boit, GUckens, Higgins, Knebne, Lever, MicRae, Manigault, Maurer, Of, Pack, Perrine, Tucker. Through March 550 Fifth Avenu? ?above <:.th St.) Picture Restoration Old Paintings and Sculpture 1:-'M referenc?? from MuseuniH, Collec? tor? anil Picture Utalers of Europe. ODGER ROUST Studio. ?6 CENTRAL PARK WEST.