ardson saw the possibility of adapting the Spanish Romanesque to our needs to-day, whether domestic, commercial, or ecclesiastical, and his application of this style to American architecture was widely welcomed. Root, who lived later, further applied the style, lightened by Renaissance features, to the type of office building known as the "sky-scraper," seen par excellence in this country. The most impressive exhibition of architectural grouping which the century has brought forth was that of the Chicago Fair, an event which definitely placed American architects on a plane with any. In England the modified Palladian style, mostly brickwork of the eighteenth century, has largely given way to a pseudo-Gothic. In Germany the bastard Byzantine continues its devastating course. Throughout Europe many new buildings show a loss of simplicity and strength, the latest evidence being the architecture of the recent Exposition.

The sculpture of the nineteenth century will not rank with the achievement of earlier epochs. It is true that the marbles of Flaxman, Houdon, and Canova gave place to the more idealized Sculpture sculptures by Thorwaldsen, the greatest artist of the classical revival, and these in turn to the somewhat naturalistic works of Chapu, Mercié, Falguière, and Rodin, while in a particular province, that of animal sculpture, the most distinguished work in any century was that of Barye. His figures are in bronze-it may be added that, in technical manipulation, nothing has juster claims to the admiration either of the "man in the street" or of the connoisseur than the bronzes of France. In our own country a promising school has sprung up under the leadership of such artists as Ward, French, Macmonnies, and St. Gaudens.

The great progress of the century is to be seen in painting. Freedom is the word to describe the goal of the struggles in this domain. Compared with the eight

eenth, the nineteenth century Painting should be recognized as the period of finer health and saner mind; of a consequent keener realization by painters of their individual aptitudes and characteristics, and of a desire to assert these freely. As in politics, so in painting, England has been in one respect the teacher of the

world through the century. In other ages the art assets of England did not permit her to pretend to such a dignity. The nineteenth century, however, has seen the founding by two eminent artists of what, for want of a better name, may be called the "atmospheric school." The century was barely opened when Turner, a young landscape-painter, resolved that the conventionalisms of the past should bind him no longer. Despite the labors of Claude Lorraine, there had never been adequate realization of the poetry in ample atmospheric effect, and of the consequent power of the individual fancy to make of every landscape an ethereal vision, thus giving greater play to the imagination both of painter and onlooker. What Turner did for landscape-painting, Watts has done for portraiture. An invigorating atmosphere breathes around his subjects; they are thinking aloud. He said himself, "I paint ideas, not things," and his dominating idea is to picture typical nobleness. With him painting may be beautiful; it must be noble. Most other artists have reversed these terms. Less permanent in influence was that other great distinctive epoch in English painting, the Pre-Raphaelite school, although it moved men's thoughts and aims up from the meretricious and the tawdry to serener and severer heights.

In France for a fifth of the century mincing shepherdess subjects or pictures of battles and public ceremonies absorbed the painters. Géricault was the first to break with the past and ultimately to found the romantic school, of which Delacroix and Delaroche were distinguished adherents. However, the spirit of the century was impatient of" schools." The Barbizon school was one in name only; it was thoroughly individualized. Though its members chose to solve problems each in his own excellent way, Millet is generally regarded as the greatest of all delineators of peasant life, Rousseau as unexcelled among landscapists in accuracy of light and shade, and Troyon as unrivaled in the province of cattle-paintingthe last named a good example of one who broke away from all hampering fetters, whether of classicism or of romanticism. The century's most poetical landscapepainter in France, however, was Corot, a man who yet never allowed poetry to detract from fidelity to truth. He is also the

century's chief as a synthesist, one who ruthlessly subordinated details in order to obtain greater unity of effect. Of perhaps greater influence, however, have been the impressionist painters, under the lead of Manet and Monet.

Germany has produced a single portraitpainter of exalted merit, Lenbach, but the distinctive feature of painting there has been the development of religious subjects. In the first half, the principal painters of such subjects were Kaulbach, Cornelius, and Overbeck; in the latter half, Uhde. The Low Countries have continued their time-honored studies of genre, and in this department the most distinguished name is that of Josef Israels, whose work in chiaroscuro, realism, and poetic feeling recalls Rembrandt's. All through the century in every country insistence has been placed on the freedom of personality. If the struggle for freedom has been won, it has led in some cases to an exaggerated success. Individual idiosyncrasies-and national prejudices as well-have in many cases been emphasized to the detriment of real breadth. American art was not strongly to the fore during three-quarters of the century. Later developments, however, as noted at the Paris Exhibitions, show a change, whether in portraiture, with Whistler, Sargent, Brush, and Cecilia Beaux, or in landscapes,with Inness, Chase, Tryon, and Homer-the last named, with his entirely American training, being as distinct a product of our country as, in another department of art, the Norwegian Grieg is of Norway. Finally, the century has been marked by the development and popularization of illustration, in which America has perhaps done more notable work than any other country.

the greatest musical genius-be ascribed to this or the last century? Most of his greatest works were virtually composed, certainly they were completed and performed for the first time, in the nineteenth century; but he was born in the third quarter of the eighteenth, and received his education and his formative impressions from that century, to which, therefore, we think he justly belongs. Dismissing Beethoven, then, we venture to name the following composers as those who have exercised the greatest musical influence of the century; we group them by countries, and for convenience give with each the year of his birth. Germany: Wagner (1813), Schubert (although born in Austria in 1797, Schubert, musically, really belongs to Germany and to our century), Schumann (1810), Mendelssohn (1809), Robert Franz (1815), Brahms (1833). Italy: Rossini (1792), Verdi (1813). France: Berlioz (1803), Gounod (1818), Saint-Saëns (1835). Russia: Rubinstein (1829), Tschaikowsky (1840). Poland: Chopin (1809). Hungary: Liszt (1811). Bohemia: Dvorák (1841). Norway: Grieg (1843). England: Sir Arthur Sullivan (1842). In this list Richard Wagner and the

Wagner is the most distinctive

figure, and we think it is genmusic-drama erally admitted that he has exerted a more widespread and dominating influence on the century than any other composer. He insisted that "grand opera" should not be, after the old Italian notion, a succession of tuneful melodies sung by a highly trained voice to the accompaniment of an ordinary orches tra, but a music-drama in which the dramatic action and the music should be inseparably woven together and dependent on each other, and the orchestra should play as important a rôle as the actor or singer. His theory was revolutionary and met with great opposition, but it prevails to-day, and the influence of “German opera" is felt all over the world. Even in Italy it has snuffed out Rossini, has transformed the Verdi of "Il Trovatore" to the Verdi of "Aïda" and "Otello,” and has developed the younger Italian school to which Leoncavallo and Mascagni belong. There has been no such revolution in the writing of chambermusic, or in symphonic composition for the orchestra, although richness of color

and distinction of individual style mark the difference between the orchestration of to-day and that of the last century. Wagner's extravagant opinion that with Beethoven's Ninth Symphony the last of the symphonies had been written and the vein of purely instrumental music had been exhausted, is proved to be a mistaken one by the orchestral work of Liszt, Dvorák, Grieg, Saint-Saëns, Tschaikowsky, and, most of all, Brahms, whose symphonies are classic in form but rich and modern in spirit. Brahms, too, in the estimation of so sound a critic as Sir George Grove, has never been surpassed in the realm of chamber-music and choral writing.

In the domain of song, the nineteenth century has never been equaled; no such songs have ever before been written as those of Schubert, Schumann, Grieg,

Franz

and other

Franz, Rubinstein, and Brahms. Schubert may be said to have song-writers invented the modern form of lyric song, or "lied," a form in which Franz worked exclusively and developed to its present perfection. In ecclesiastical music, England, otherwise musically unproductive, has taken a high place, and Sir Arthur Sullivan is mentioned in our list for his contributions to this department of composition. Such Englishmen as Cowan and Villiers Stanford, while not so prolific as Sir Arthur, have, perhaps, a finer and more poetic gift than his. In France we have the interesting phenomenon of a one-work composer; Gounod is known all over the world for his "Faust," but nothing else that he has ever done would have won for him general recognition. Russia, upon whom the rest of the world is apt to look as rough, untrained, and unsympathetic, has produced some composers of the first rank. Few modern composers combine sensuous beauty with deep and often melancholy feeling more strikingly than Tschaikowsky. The work of Johann

Growth of American

too soon to speak. The love for music is widespread and is growing, although nationally we are too young to have reached the creative stage; musical taste signs of promise, however, may be found in the excellent work of such men as MacDowell, Horatio Parker, Henry Holden Huss, Edgar Stillman Kelley, and Arthur Whiting. In the United States the development and cheapness of the piano and the invention of the reed organ have put the best music in a simple form within the reach of families of the most modest means. We see no reason to doubt that America may, in the coming half-century, do in music what she has done in the last half-century in industry and literature, is now successfully doing in science, and is beginning to do with rapidly increasing skill and perfection in the pictorial and decorative arts.

To characterize in a sentence The spirit of the musical spirit of the nine

the century

teenth century, we should say it was freedom of expression and individuality of ideas. The nineteenth-century composers have not been bound to academic forms, nor have they been afraid to say fresh and sometimes startling things. This has given us great richness of music, but it has also led to extravagance and fads. The true music-lover, as the true lover of poetry, takes beauty wherever he finds it and in whatever form, and because Richard Wagner has revolutionized certain musical ideas he does not abandon Haydn and Mendelssohn and spend all his time with Richard Strauss and RimskiKorsakoff.

THE FUTURE

It is impossible to forecast the probable advances in science, whether practical or theoretical, nor is it easy even to indicate what fields remain for it to conquer. Of this we may be sure the principle of evolution which it has established, which is the basis of moral as well as scientific progress, will not be lost to the world. In education we have to adjust our school system to the rapidly growing sphere of knowledge, so that it will deal with all subjects without being superficial in any, and will train the moral faculties without giving to the training a denominational or dogmatic character. In theology the Church has to complete that process of

reconstruction already begun, in order to harmonize the philosophy of religion with that which is now the accepted postulate of all other philosophy--the doctrine of evolution-and so to readjust its religious teaching to the conception of divine immanence as to revivify that reverence and love which are possible only toward a personal God. We have to carry on still further the ethical development of the past, so as at once to root ethical conceptions in eternal law and to show their application to all the relations of life. In politics the rights of men are theoretically recognized in England and America, and measurably in all western Europe, as the basis of government, but the rights and duties of nations toward each other have yet to be defined, by a gradual develop ment and application of international law and a solution of the problem, What are the duties which the civilized nations owe to those that are uncivilized or semi-civilized? Brotherhood is as yet an academic opinion or an ethical sentiment; the work of the reformer, whether in thought or in action, is to formulate its principles, to learn what are the fundamental obligations of man to his brother man, and to apply them to the solution of current sccial problems. To create an American school of music, which now has little except its folk songs which is distinctive, gives scope for the musical genius of the future; to develop an American art, which is still too commonly imitative, will call for the best work of the artists. The fact that most of our literature first appears in newspapers and periodicals does more to extend its circulation than to raise its quality; the creation of libraries, public and private, and the creation of leisure for continuous reading are the most immediate needs for the development of a higher type of literature. America has the capacity to create; it has to develop a higher capacity to enjoy. In brief, if, as we have said in the opening paragraph of this rapid survey of the nineteenth century, its chief characteristic is freedom, the first duty of the twentieth century is to learn how to use that freedom in religion, politics, society, art, literature, so as to maintain the highest ideals and minister to the largest life. The work which lies before the twentieth century is as great as that which the nineteenth century has accomplished.

The Spectator

"They also serve who only stand and wait." The Spectator has assented to this proposition very heartily whenever it has been seriously brought to his notice--or, to be more exact, whenever it has been brought to his serious notice. But the Spectator never appreciated it so much as he did the other day. Mrs. Spectator had been having a few weeks in France, and she notified him that she would sail on a certain good ship which was due to arrive in New York on a Monday. As she had bought her tickets in Paris, the Spectator did not have implicit faith in the representations made to her by the French, who appear to think that saying things that are not so, especially in matters of business, is a righteous smiting of the barbarians, a giving to unworthy outsiders quite as much as their merits. deserve. So the Spectator took counsel of the agents of the line on this side, and by them he was informed that the good ship, with her precious freight, would probably arrive late Tuesday afternoon or Tuesday night. Here was a disconcerting discrepancy of more than twentyfour hours. But there was another disturbing prognostication as to the coming of that steamer. The newspapers print daily very valuable and interesting little tables showing the incomings and the outgoings of ships. Now, all the papers agreed that Mrs. Spectator's boat would not be due till Wednesday. Here was confusion indeed. The good lady, on the authority of the decadent French man, had announced that she would be in New York Monday; the agents said Tues day; the newspapers said Wednesday.

Of course it never occurred to the Spectator to run any risks. His good wife should be greeted on her return as she was speeded on her departure. He therefore held himself in readiness for the summons on Monday. During that day he was rather careless and vent .red a .fir away as the club for luncheon, But f the afternoon be stuck coøly at home, writing letters that were not of fr... importance, and reading 64 nove novels that were od friend and did not require careful treatment, but you ded

themselves up readily even though only the leaves were turned over. Tuesday, however, it was different. The Spectator had some faith in the American agents. "Surely," said he to himself, "they know more than these newspapers; newspapers only print a parcel of lies, anyway." And so on and on he talked to himself, and consumed nearly a whole box of matches in relighting a pipe that was always going out. He placed out his best street clothes to put on quickly when the telegraph messenger should come with a little yellow Islip that told him the ship had passed Sandy Hook. He got mellow and sentimental. He remembered verses of poetry appropriate to the occasion, and could not persuade himself to be provoked when he could not recall more of Joaquin Miller's verses than these three lines:

My ship comes in, my ship comes in,
My ship comes sailing up the sea,
And I am glad as glad can be.

Directly a fog settled down over the city and over the rivers and bay; horns and bells and whistles could distinctly be heard from where the Spectator sat and waited. He was not sentimental now; he was nervous, he was cross. An indigent friend came to see him-a friend who

always brought a new tale of woe, a tale told not in words but in the carefully brushed clothes that were always growing

shabbier, in the cheek that always seemed paler and thinner. Now, the Spectator has great respect and affection for this friend. He knows that there are some men not cut out for contest with the brutalities of a brutal world, and he recognizes in this friend one of this sort. But, Heaven pardon the sin! the Spectator was not cordial on this occasion; he was not exactly rude, but he was inattentive where he should have been full of consideration. Well, the friend went away; and now the Spectator was in worse condition than ever. He was as contrite as he was apprehensive. He tried to write a letter to his friend praying forgiveness. But he could not do it. Those doleful bells kept ringing on, the whistles blew, and the horns sent forth their harsh, discordant note. "Those also serve who only stand and wait," the Spectator said to himself. Indeed, he was sure of it. A hundred

times rather would he have been on the ship that was bumping around in the fog or rushing to destruction than waiting on shore where he could do nothing. Waiting, indeed, for a ship, but waiting first for a telegraph messenger with his yellow slip. When night had fairly come, when darkness had settled down to make the fog even worse, he abandoned hope and went to bed, too rebellious to sleep, too unquiet even to rest.

On Wednesday morning the Spectator did not put on his lounging clothes, but arrayed himself so as to look as spick and span as possible. The Spectator confesses, with a trifle of shame perhaps, that he is not an early bird, and that breakfast at ten suits him a great deal better than it does at seven. Indeed, sometimes he has believed that early rising conduced to bad rather than to good work, to plodding rather than to nice. accomplishments. He remembers a woman of nice taste who had to live on a farm, and who rebelled a little at the primitive hours. She used to say that one day was like every other day : "We get up early in the morning to have an early breakfast so that we may have an early dinner, and get an early supper to go to bed early so as to get up early in the morning." But the Spectator was glad to be up early that particular Wednesday morning. He got the papers, and skipped the thrilling news of the day. What mattered it to him what was going on in Washington, London, or Paris? His heart was at sea, and so he turned at once to the shipping news to see if there were any intelligence of the boat in which he was interested. No change. There she was, leading the list of those "due to arrive to-day." also learned that the fog had lifted and that all was well in the lower bay and as far out as the watchers could see from Sandy Hook and Fire Island.

He

In his mind the Spectator begged pardon of the newspapers of the evil things he had thought and said. "They know their business," he said; "they know a hand-saw from a marlinspike." He sent his servant out for a nosegay for his buttonhole and for flowers with which to decorate Mrs. Spectator's room. Before