Los Angeles herald. [microfilm reel], October 08, 1905, Image 37

About Los Angeles herald. [microfilm reel] (Los Angeles [Calif.]) 1900-1911

Image provided by: University of California, Riverside; Riverside, CA

                
VIRGINIA'S CURL PAPERS
<J7se Proper jyiyvy y P of F^Tj^^h^cJ^k frock
.-raft? 11 w
qnHE girl in the pink frock lay back
1 in the hammock, and, swinging
the daintiest feet in the world, held
forth:
• "The only trouble with this bringing
up of patents is that you can't start
with them early enough in life. They
may havn acquired some very bad
habits before you get at them. Of
course parents arc harder to bring up
than children, because they are willful
and calmly superior. Why 1 have
actually known parents who thought
they know more than their children!
Indeed, this is a quite common trait
among them. They show it very early
in life— in the child's life, I mean. When
.■».' -■ '', are only five and don't want to
/ \tke medicine which you know is bitter
ani nasty they will try to force it down
youi throat, saying: 'Tako it; it's nice!'
Now, if they thln.v '.he^ know more than
you in this matter they are positively
mistaken, for you are positively certain
that no medicine is nice. They also
have a nice way of ss/lng, 'If I were
you I wouldn't do such and such aj
thing,' which is another mistake on
their part, for if they, were you they
would be crazy -to do it. If they say
'If you were I' there might be some
truth in the matter. It's a strange
thing, by the way, why parents always
believe that the things you want to
do are bad for you. It's only a habit, j
I'm sure, for certainly sometimes some
thing 1 you want to do must be good.
Unless a parent is broken of this early
in life the habit is apt to become a
flxPd one and you will suffer from it
as long as you live. It will begin with
your food and toys and continue to
your choice of a husband. I should
never encourage this superiority In a
parent and the mother or father who
'If I were you'd' mo should be sent to
bed supperless.
"P^- ".i should be ruled by love, not
fear, and if you want a kind old daddy
to come around to your way of thinking
against his own convictions just love
him a little and make a fuss over him.
numple up his hair around his ears and
you will find him coming around twice
as easily as though you threatened him
with a slipper. It is wholesome for par
ents to let them have their way occas
ionally—Just occasionally— to keep them
from thinking you undutiful, but in the
really serious matters of life, such as
putting on long dresses and choosing
your husband, they ought not to be al
lowed to interfere. A glimpse of your
own feet tells you when long skirts are
necessary, and as for the husband— if
by persisting in having your own way
you make a mess of it the consequences
are sufficient punishment. Again, In
the matter of husbands, have you ever
noticed the wishy-washy, die-away
young men mothers select for their
daughters? Narrow shouldered creat
ures, with straw colored hair, who have
no more tendency to sport than a white
rabbit— the kind of a thing you feel like
taking up with a pair of pincers and
dropping gently but firmly out of the
window. I might also speak of the
wives mothers select for their sons,
but that is by the way.
"It is never by any possibility the
ghi a boy wants the one that can ride
and swim and hunt with him, but a
plain, large waisted individual, with
straight hair.'who has never worn high
heels in her life and who has a pious
horror of rings and ornaments. Moth
ers cannot be too severely reprimanded
for interfering in this way with the
laws of natural selection. A girl of
proper mental balance hates a man
with straw colored hair and ought to
put her foot down flatly if a mother
who has only been married once in her
life tries to Impose such a specimen
upon her. I would not suggest disin
heriting the mother or anj thing like
that, but I would just shut her up in a
room with the straw colored specimen
for Ihrce or four hours and let her see
what it would be to have to spend much
time with him. That ought to cure her,
of her obstinacy. I
"This matter is much like the medi
cine problem early in life. If at the
age of two a misguided parent should
persuade me to take a dose of castor
oil or asafoetida, saying how nice it
was, I should make a supreme effort
to converse and say, 'If it is so nice
take it yourself!" If the parent did not
take the dose, liquid or human, I would
prove to her that it was because It
wasn't as nice as she represented It to
be. A boy would do well to carry this
out with tho girl his loving mamma
selects for him. He might shut her up
In a deserted house with tho large
waisted, straight haired person while
a party of high heeled, fuzzy creatures
were across the way. Slio would soon ■
see which made life pleasantest for
their companions, for those big waisted.
straight haired things are twice as
catty as the pretty, jolly ones.
" "Your father was not a sport when
I married him, but an earnest, indus
trious young man,' a mother is fond
of saying; and somehow when you look
at the poor old daddy with his pink
J bald head and funny little glasses way
down near the end of his noso you
can't understand any one ever being
madly in love with him and marrying
"Ah, When We Were Twenty at the Beaux=Arts!"
LIKE most things viewed from a dis
tance, the life of the art students
in Paris bears a peculiarly dis
trrted appearance when reflected ill the
average American understanding. A
sort of huiiy burly of gayety, vice and
very little painting (except the kind
that is done with carmine or vermilion
and has not much to do with art), a
maelstrom of sin, a vortex of frivolity,
an apotheosis of consequent joy— such
is the mental picture cherished by
those persons whose views of the quar
ter are gathered and formed only from
"bohemian" novels — usually written by
English "temporaries." The real life Is
as different from that pictured sem
blance us gold is from gilt and that is
saying a very great deal, indeed. Gay
ety there is, but that gayety which
comes as a necessary relaxation after
superhuman work, and Is accordingly
violent and irresponsible as the work
was desperate and earnest. Painting,
sculpture, architecture— these things
are the working and sleeping dreams
of the students. They may in the less
er intelligence become mechanical; they
never are incidental.
A certain well-known painter, Wil
liam Dodge, in fact, was asked the
other day for a typical story of stu
dents' li.i in Paris. He hesitated and
lnughP .'
"That is a difficult matter." he tem
porized. "We are in America."
"What, are they all so wicked?"
"They are not wicked at all, from
my point of view, and the view of
Faris. But they are not strictly Amer
ican."
All in the View Point
One of Mr. Dodge's salon pictures
was opposite, leaning against the wall
of the huge studio. The beautiful nude
woman standing in the pool pervaded
the scene, and Mr. Dodge seemed to
gather inspiration from her and the
gorgeous' butterflies fluttering around
her as he talked.
"Now, some people don't approve of
her," he said, regarding her affection
ately. "But she isn't improper, really.
There, again, it is the point of view.
You see we come back to that always."
"But Paris, and art, and the stu
dents there?"
"Oh, well, it Is different from every
thing else In the world, and in some
ways 'it is as fine— genuinely so— as
any life you might cite. }//;/■_ ;
"I remember one big Swede who came
to Gerome's atelier to paint. He was
n huge chap'and minded his own busi
ness, also he could paint, so we let
LOS ANGELES HERALD SUNDAY SUPPLEMENT.
him for any sentimental reason, al
though he is perfectly lovely as a
father.
"Another bad habit of parents is
correcting you before people. I would
almost recommend spanking for this
crime, it is such a particularly odious
one. But In case the spanking i? un
available a severe reprimand before
going to bod at night should certainly
be administered. If you arc too young
to talk when it occurs remember it
and have It out when you are oiu
enough.
"The books you should read and the
plays you should see arc another thing
which parents think they understand
better than you. For some strange and
unaccountable reason mothers are born
wilh the idea that they can read books
and see plays which their daughters
pant. Could anything be more absurd?
And yet have you not noticed how pre
him alone at first. But after a while
we decided that It was high time he
was hazed, like everyone else, and
properly initiated Into the studio. He
was a nouveau; he must boar the al
lotted torments of all nouveaux. W?ll.
first we ordered him to go out and get
some black soap to wash paint brushes.
That's one of the first gags in hazing
a nouveau, you know.
"But the big Swede had been warned.
He pulled a piece of black soap out of
his pocket and asked very mildly if it
would be enough!
"Well, for a bit we let him alone
after that. Then we commanded him
to go up on the model throne and sing
a song. So he climbed up on to the
platform and faced that room full, of
howling demons. And he began to
sing. Well, the walls expanded, I give
you my word! The fellow had a voice
like Edouard de Reszke— gorgeous! H<s
opened his mouth and let that superb
voice roll out over the turmoil, and
in two seconds every man In the room
was silent— and when he stopped the
applause shook the building!
"But there was one ordeal which all
nouveaux must go through, and which
he had failed to undergo. He had not
stripped before the atelier. So one day
he was orderer to do that. Ho quite
calmly began to undress. He stripped
t ) his waist and then, suddenly folding
his arms across hlB chest, said quietly:
" 'Is there anything else I can do for
you ?' "
"The man was a Sandow! He stood
there motionless, with his enormous
muscles standing out under the skin,
staring us all down with his calm
eyes, and we wilted. Some of us were
big chaps, but by Jove! he could have
licked any three of us! We never
troubled the big Swede any more after
that. He had won!
"It's a great life over there, . liks
nothing else in the world; and one may
only live it once."
There are cases where the poor nou
veau wins our sympathy, but even then
we know that he was not lastingly the
worse for his ordeal. Did you ever
hear the tale of Malterre— pale, pretty,
yellow haired Malterre, who wore
velvet coats and store collars ami
bouffant ties and gloves that just
matched his curls? He drifted into
one of the big ateliers one day to learn
to paint, and he was the most tempt
ing morsel of a nouveau that ever
dropped from the gods into the
clutches of f dozen or so of scalp
seeking savages.
valent the notion is? They hide the
books— l wonder if they think you can't
find them under that old camel's hair
shawl on the sewing. room couch? — and
discuss the plays with other mothers
behind closed doors. This is another
odious habit, and the measures taken
to cure it cannot be too severe. You
know the saying. 'It's a book no proper
young girl would allow her mother to
read,' and there is much truth in the
saying. I believe that the book which
does a parent so much harm should be
kept from her. It puts notions into her
head, and tho first thing you know she
may bo eloping with the coachman or
getting off the shawl speech from 'Can
dida.'
"A young girl seems to be the only
one who can read Ibsen or Bernard
Shaw without being corrupted. She
never gets notions from books, especial
ly if she skips the inscriptions, and
Another nouveau arrived about the
same time. His name has not come
down In history, and «s he disappears
from our story shortly It is immaterial.
But, first and foremost, to help them
both to feel at home, Multerre and the
other nouveau were stripped and *et
to fencing with big paint brushes.
Miilterre's brush was filled with
chrome yellow, the other's with Prus
sian blue, and with these awful weap
ons they fenced and fenced, growius
angry with each other as they found
themselves becoming more and more
thickly daubed with blue, yellow ani
a beautiful combination green. When
the buttle was over they were made to
sit down near the stone, so that the
paint could dry on, and meanwhile
Malterre's clothes had been confiscated
by the board of Inquisitors. The other
nouveau got off more easily and wns
allowed to go home. You see, he did
not wear curls, nor Eton collars, nor
yet canary colored gloves.
Malterre's garments were carefully
mutted with quantities of nice, wet,
sticky modelling clay and rolled up
into balls. Then they were fired up to
the ceiling, where they stuck i fast.
When Malterre, still dyed in exquisite
patterns 1 of blue and yellow and green,
desired to go homo he had to get a
ladder to reach his clothes— and filled
with wet clay at that.
"Sometimes the poor nouveaux are
sent from studio to studio in search of
'black soap' or 'red oil,' and escorted
back to their own quarters by a crowl
of howling students and a brass band.
Sometimes they are put in improvised
cages and' have paint rags burnt in
front of them' by way of burnt offer
ing. It was in Gerome's steller, I be
lieve, that the idea first originated of
lugging the pedestal of one of the big
gest of the antiques up to the studio.
LIFE'S SEASONS
Flow tide and glow tide
And glad sky above,
And youth to sing the joys of spring
With heart full of love.
Strong: hands and sturdy faith
All the world to meet.
And here and thorp, for love and care,
Patter of small feet. »
Twilight and afterglow,
Hours to dream away.
And days to glide on ebbing tide
Under skies of gray.
Until the nutumn breeze
Sways the goldenrod,
And tlio light fades In the night,
lieavlngr us with God.
— F. H. Sweet In the Sunday School
Times.
it is the same with plays. If the lead
ing man hag lovely, curly hair and
shiny patent leathers she don't look for
hidden meanings in the text. I am
sorry to see this tendency In parents
nnd think bread and water and a diet
of prudy books might be beneficial. At
all events it ought not to be encouraged,
and if you find your mother going to
see plays which arc not fit for her you
should cut down her pocket money at
once, and then she couldn't attend the
matinee. I am sorry to say that I have
my suspicions of people who see so
much evil In a lovely place like the
theater. Once Dimple Young and I
overheard our mothers discussing 'C.'i
mllle' and saying it wasn't tho sort of
play for young girls to see, bo we saved
up our allowanco for two whole weeks,
then slipped off to the theater and got
seats in the family circle. We thought
It the loveliest thing that ever was
written. Camllle wore a lace tea gown
which was a perfect angel and her
cough was the saddest thing. Dimple
and I cried all the way through and
decided that our mothers must be, well,
not exactly evil minded, but a little.
turning it on its side and making th*
fellow within a cell, or cage, for nou
veaux. using pokers for bars. But
through all these bewildering trials the
right sort of nouveau passes pluekily,
rather the better for his experience and
usually on excellent terms with the
very men who contributed most mark
edly to his wretchedness in the days of
his initiation. If he be made of tV.P
proper stuff his time of probation will
be short. Even it he be not a barytone
or an athlete, like the big Swede, )r.<
will win through good comradeship,
good nature, pluck, Intelligence anil
hard work. It is only the weaklings
who usually suffer, and they have no
business in an atelier anyway. .
"Once accepted into the actual life
and work of the atelier a new existence
begins for the student in Paris. For
the first time in his life he finds out
what work means, for work, is the
guiding star there; work in the morn-
Ings, as soon as a cup of coffee is swal
lowed; work until dark. Work in the
hottest, summer afternoons; work in
winter weather, when, as one young
American Quarlier Lattnlat observed,
'You have to put your feet in your dress
suit case to keep warm." Work .for
eight, even ten hours at a sitting,
snatching the first and the last gasp of
daylight, and in the ateliers of archi
tecture and sculpture, working far into
the nijfht. .
"I have known men to go for nights
at a time without sleep. They work
then under a strain which can hardly
fall to leave a permanent mark upon
their health. The years seem too short
to accomplish all that they have to, do
and the high pressure of skilled compe
tition and medals of honor to be at
tained keeps every one at fever heat
all the time.
"We certainly played hard in Paris
when we played at all, but the pervad
ing myth of depravity and dissipation
in the Quartier Latin Is one of the most
preposterous In existence. There ar*
men who live riotous, useless lived
there, who play at their work and steep
themselves in vice, but they are not
representative— thank goodness !— any
more than certain classes and types in
New York are representative examples
of American life. And, to our shame ba
it spoken, the wildest and least honor
able aspects and elements of Parisian
life in the Quartier are introduced by
outsiders, by Anglo-Saxon specimens of
the cheap bohemlan type who come to
the student world and by their habits
just a little, honl soit gui mal-y pense-y,
to find the slightest suggestion of wrong
in a high souled, persecuted consump
tive like Camillc! lam tr'u..-. sorry to
sec this tendency in' parents, and feel
that something should bo done to eradi
cate It. I fear, though, you would have
to begin in your infancy, it seems so
deeply implanted.
"Your music lessons and practicing
are another thing which requires con
stant reproving on the part of parents.
Why they should make such a fuss over
so trivial a matter is what puzzles me.
They are perfectly aware that you will
never be a musician and that it's an ab
solute waste of time to spend all that
money on your musical education.
You don't even want to play — that is,
anything more than 'Arabella' or 'Be
delia'—yet they are forever nagging at
you to know if you have practiced and
if you know your lesson. You would
think it one of the serious matters of
life to hear the way they go on, and
you are often quite out of patience
with them. I know of parents who seem
to think that their children's practicing
is of more consequence than the salva
and widely bruited reputations win ill
fame for the old Quartier and the right
ful denizens thereof.
"Play? Oh! yes, we played! The
time I mean was just after Beranger—
he was the Anthony Comstock of Paris
—had been making himself obnoxious.
The two heads at the gate of the Ecola
—I don't remember who they were, but
they were of some tremendously cele
brated, dignified old chaps, and had had
their noses chipped tince the commune
—had been taken away for repairs, ani
the pedestals looked empty.
"The name of Beranger recalls to
mind that queer little uprising in Paris
not ho very many years ago, which
threatened for an ephemeral day to be
come a second commune. It will be re
membered by many, but chiefly by
those who have ever followed the me
teoric career of that strangest and most
fascinating figure of bohemian life in
Paris— Sam Brown.
"The name sounds harmless enough,
but Sura Brown made more trouble
In her brief public life than any hun
dred other women that you could pick
on two continents. Her antecedents
were exalted— Kusslan and English in
the way of nation and as high as pos
sible in the way of birth. Of course
she was illegitimate.
"Her childhood was spent in a French
convent, from which she ran away at
the age of fifteen. She became a cir
cus rider in the Hippodrome, and so
began her career. The various Inci
dents of this career will only baro re
peating in briefest outline. She was
one of those extraordinary creatures
for whom laws or standards do not
exist. She ruled supreme; with her
pink hair and beautiful figure, over all
men. Her brain was almost as marvel
ous as her body, and her charm was
monumental.
"She posed for some of the most
wonderful pictures of modern times;
she flitted, a glowing, vivid figure, from
studio to studio; she loved many times,
enjoyed tremendously, suffered horri
bly. Four times she tried to commit
suicide nnd all her life bore the scar
of one jagged wound which she had
given herself in a fit of desperation.
And all this before she was twenty.
"Her escapades are legion and are
known to every man or woman in the
Quartier. But probably her most fa
mous one was the Quatres-Arts affair.
She went to the ball as Cleopatra,
wearing only a jeweled head dress and
emerald studded belt, and was carried
In this garb— or ungarb— through the
tion of their souls. To those who think
this I should suggest making them sit
at the piano practicing scales and ar*
peggios for two hours at a stretch In*
stead of going off to their bridge and
tea fights. If that di&n't make them
behave I fear tho reformatory is tho
only alternative. Now, of course I
don't mean to be too hard on parents,
for I approve of them thoroughly — In
their place, that is— but I don't believe
In sparing the rod and spoiling the
parent. As I said before, it is better
to rule them by love than by fear, but
if they are particularly obstinate and
the love doesn't work, you will have to
try the other. You see, they have been
allowed to go on for so long thinking
that they know more than their chil
dren that they have become exceeding
ly difficult to manage, and infinite
patience on the part of the child is
necessary. I would not have them
eradicated, the way they do little girl
babies In India — far from it — but . I
should certainly advise going about It
with a firm and determined hand to sen
that they become true and noble grand
mothers and grandfathers!"
streets of Paris on a platform that was
borne by four huge negroes as black
as night.
"That was the time that Beranger
remonstrated. A gendarme attacked
the man who was protecting Sara. It
was in the Luxembourg 1 , and the man
threw a bottle at the gendarme, and!
so began the little commune — all on ac
count of Sara Brown. They even got
up a little communistic paper called
Sara de Luxembourg, all of which ia
another phase of student life in Paris.
"The papers had it a few years ago
that Sara Brown had been assassinated
by a revengeful lover whom she had
forgotten. But one day a certain great
artist stood in a toy shop In Paris
buying toys for his children, and at
a counter near by stood a lady, heavily,
veiled, also buying toys. The great
artist could almost have sworn that
ft was . But after all, who can
know the truth of it?
The Great Event
"That Quatres-Arts ball, by the Way,
is the great event of the year In artis
tic Paris. For months beforehand the
different ateliers prepare their cos
tumes and effects, and gorgeous enough
they are, indeed. All the thought, ajl
the research and all the money possi
ble are made use of in the preparation
of these costumes and the perfection
of detail and accuracy of period ob
served might be models to the pseudo
artistic theatrical managers who pre-"
tend to have the costumes correct in
their great productions. Women there
are at the Quatres-Arts, but the puri
tanically inclined woman usually wears
a mask and keeps as much as possible
out of the thick of things— that is, if
she wishes to remain puritanical.
"One of the merriest times ever had
in a studio was in the quarters of a,
well known young artist, where an en
tertainment, in the American style*
was given. We blush, to record that
the leading features of this affair, were
the presence of a 'chorus girl" (one of
the students dressed up for the occa
sion) and a great number of glasses)
and siphons, and— other things!
"It is strange to realize that after a
right of this sort the young students
rose promptly in time to begin work
In their respective ateliers, all things:
forgotten in the close and imperative
desire ' for accomplished work.
"Do you remember Jacques* cry as
they lowered Francaise into her narrow
grave:
" 'Oh, ma jeunesse! C'est yous qua
lin enterre!' ('Oh, my youth! 'lt is you;
wrom they have burled!*)" 1 :