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To physical culture Japanese schools size. It has learned that the shortnes give an amount of attention which no is chiefly in the legs, owing to the cusAmerican institution can hope to ap tom of sitting on the feet; therefore the proach. This department, which the schools are all equipped with benches. Government itself rigidly insists upon, Therefore, also, the oncoming generatakes many forms. Sometimes it is with tions are being put through a physical wooden imitations of the ancient long education which is accomplishing the sword, which makes an excellent exer seemingly impossible. The doorways cise wand. Dumb-bells, Indian clubs, and ceilings of the new Japanese houses and hand rings are commonly employed. are being built higher than of old, for Calisthenics, skipping, and dancing, as the nation is surely growing taller. well as tennis, basket-ball, and many An observer would never suspect from romping games, serve the same end. I watching these young women students shall not forget the first time I saw the with their merry, guileless ways and Virginia reel danced in Japan. The gleeful abandonment in the smallest girls were in trig gymr.asium costume, pleasures, that serious moral and social and they went through the movements problems are bound up in their educato the music of “Suwanee River,” played tion. Yet the most momentous fact on the baby organ, with unsprightly ex about this new educational movement is actness, but, oh! so dolorously! The that it is working a social revolution occasion was not a frolic and not a glee- and creating in the Japanese nation the ful relaxation ; it could not have been moral standards of the Anglo-Saxon more melancholy had it been a rite of world. ancestral worship.

One must know her intimately to In outdoor games, however, and on understand that this innocent, childlike the apparatus which nearly every school Oriental miss is capable of the most provides, the girls are merry enough. serious womanly achievements possible They have open-air exercises and frolics to her Western sister. She has purpose, every day, and frequent picnics, and stamina, and ability to bring things to already the height of the Japanese woman pass. In many respects the life of the is being perceptibly increased.

student girls is self-governing, and their Nothing less than the adding of inches efficiency as teachers and administrators to the national stature is one cherished is marvelous, when compared with the goal of Japanese education. The coun- helpless exclusiveness of the Japanese try is sensitive upon the subject of its girl of a generation ago.

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OR many years the two men who attracted greatest attention in

the streets of Munich were Lenbach, the painter, and Paul Heyse, the poet and novelist. It fell to the lot of Lenbach to portray a group of the most powerful personalities that modern Germany has produced. The collection of portraits in the Leipsic Gallery, for instance, need no descriptive phrases in a

handbook to make one aware that he is seeing the makers of Imperial Germany drawn by the hand of a powerful and relentlessly truthful portrait-painter. Heyse, on the other hand, has made a series of sketches of romantic types of character, and given expression to a side of the German nature once dominant and now in eclipse, though probably only for the moment. In the studies of the painter one recognizes executive Germany, the Prussian type ; in those of the novelist, romantic Germany, the Bavarian type.

White-haired now, but with a touch of distinction in his bearing which makes him a marked figure whenever he appears on the streets, it is easy to imagine Heyse's brilliant youth in the golden age of Maximilian, patron of Arts and Letters in a city which was then in a special sense the home of the arts before factories and business had made it a bustling modern town. The son and grandson of scholars of eminence, with Jewish blood in his veins, Heyse studied classical philology at Berlin under distinguished teachers; and, later, the Romance languages and literatures at Bɔnn. He was ardent, imaginative, ambitious; his inherited tastes and his studies inevitably developed cosmopolitan tastes and interests.

At twenty he was writing poems and plays, and the first of a long series of volumes was given to the public. A story used to be told in Munich illustrative of the fact that a man may gain an international fame without securing local reputation. After a long residence on the same square, a neighbor said to the novelist : “ Herr Heyse, I hear that you write stories. Is that true ?” The writer confessed that there was ground for the charge. “Would you mind lending me one ?" was the prompt response. Lyrics ; epics, of which “Thekla ” is the most widely known; poetic dramas, often seen on the German stage ; and stories, long and short, came from his hand in an almost continuous outpouring of productive energy. The Schiller prize for excellence in dramatic composition was conferred on him by the Emperor twenty-three years ago.

It is as a writer of fiction, and especially of short stories, that Heyse is best known outside his own country. Two of his long novels, “ In Paradise” and “ The Children of the World," have appeared in many editions and translations ; but he has written nothing more characteristic or popular than "L'Arrabiata," a translation of which The Outlook reprints this week in the series of twelve representative stories in languages other than English. This idyllic tale of Italian peasant life shows * Reprinted from “ Little Masterpieces of Fiction," by permission of Doubleday, Page & Co., New York.

Heyse at his best, because it brings out his sensitiveness to his subject, his charm of manner, his artistic feeling, his cosmopolitan sympathy, and the grace that is born of this special activity of the imagination. It discloses also his poetic feeling, his delicate sentiment, his rare power of description.

In no sense a great writer, Heyse has gifts of temperament, passion, and feeling of a high order; and his work has the distinction of charm, beauty, and artistic emation rather than of creative power or of an original and penetrating view of life. His figures are picturesquely rather than firmly drawn, and his work lacks the deep and moving dramatic interest which comes from a vivid sense or powerful grasp of moral realities. From this point of view Heyse's world is hazy, and lacks sharp definition, strong lines, vigorous handling. He moves through it like a pleasant host rather than like a dispassionate and clear-sighted recorder. It is not so much an immoral as an unmoral world in which the actors in “In Paradise” and “ The Children of the World ” have their being. For this reason they do not appeal either with the commanding power of those who create a good world about themselves or with the tragic power of the victims of a bad world. Some one has spoken of the confusion of marital relations of a certain class of artists in southern Germany; it is this particular kind of a paradise which Heyse has described in his interesting novel of artistic life. The law is not so much broken as quietly relaxed to the vanishing point.

Two phrases give the key to“ In Paradise” and “ The Children of the World :” “ Follow nature," and “There is but one true nobility, to be true to one's best self." These are fundamental maxims in a free and vigorous life, but they need a large interpretation in terms not only of a complete life but of a life of relations. Heyse makes them the keynotes of extreme individualism : “ Follow your impulse ” and “Genius is a law unto itself” are the comfortable doctrines of the very agreeable people who make the unphilistine but not inspiring world of “In Paradise.” In such a garden natural affinity makes its easy selections, and, the law of reaction having been suspended, there are few tragic consequences though there are many tragic events. The deeper consciousness of the later German novelists and dramatists has not touched Heyse's work; it remains sweet and harmonious, but sensuous. In reproducing this world, in which sculpture, painting, music, and poetry are the chief interests, Heyse has shown rare refinement of feeling, artistic sensibility, and love of beauty. If moral laws were merely social conventions and a man could follow the impulse of the moment wherever it led, without thought of its ultimate reactions on himself and others, Heyse's Paradise would be a garden of delights instead of a mirage in which waters that make music at a distance sink into sand, and trees that bear the fruit of life wither and vanish at the touch of reality.

Heyse is the connecting link between the older generation of novelists, Freytag, whose“ Debit and Credit” has been so widely read, Spielhagen, whose storm-andstress stories, “ Problematic Characters,' Hammer and Anvil,” “ Through Night to Light,” a generation ago gave promise of a grasp and an insight into new conditions which were never fulfilled, and Auerbach, whose“ On the Heights” has great beauty but is weakened by the German tendency to speculative generalizationand the recent novelists, Sudermann, whose great talent still halts on the threshold of a convincing achievement; Hauptmann, whose “ Sunken Bell” pointed the way to a height which he has not yet ascended ; and a group of women novelists, some

of whom have been celebrating the fall of the Bastille of German social conventionality by dancing, not the carmagnole, but the cancan, and have attained a degree of frankness which makes “Indiana" a novel of reserve and “ Mlle. de Maupin " a story for the home circle. Between the older novels, which dealt largely with the ultimate problem of the relation of the Ideal to the Real, and the recent novel and drama, which deal largely with the problem of the relation of the individual will to the social will, Heyse holds a central position and concerns himself with the trials and joys of the artistic life, and with the rights and privileges of genius rather than with its obligations as a special and unique manifestation of spirit.

H. W. M.


HE sun had not yet risen. Over the people there no pastor, that they

Vesuvius hung a broad, gray must borrow ours?"

sheet of mist, which stretched "Don't ask such foolish questions," across as far as Naples, and darkened said the old woman. “They have enough the little towns along that strip of coast. priests there, and the finest churches, The sea lay calm. But on the quays, and even a hermit, which is more than which had been built along a small inlet

we have.

But there is a noble signora of the sea under the high cliffs of the who dwelt long at Sorrento, and was Sorrentine shore, the fishermen and so ill that many a tiine the padre had to their wives were already astir for the carry her the Most Holy Sacrament purpose of drawing ashore with stout when it was thought she would not outcables the boats from which their nets live the night. But, by the help of the had hung during the night. Others Holy Virgin, she grew to be hale and rigged their craft, trimmed the sails, or strong again, so that she could bathe in dragged oars and masts out of the huge the sea daily. And when she left here grated vaults hewn deep into the rock to for Capri, she gave a great heap of serve as a shelter for the tackle over ducats to the church and the poor folk, night. No one was idle; for even the and would not go, they say, until the aged who could no longer venture out padre had promised to visit her there upon the sea became links in the long that she might confess to him. For it is chain of those who were hauling in the astonishing in what esteem she holds nets. Here and there on a flat roof him. Truly, we may bless ourselves for stood an old woman spinning or busying having a curato who has the gifts of an herself with her grandchildren, whose archbishop, and who is so much sought mother was helping her husband. after by the great folk. The Madonna

“Do you see, Rachela ? Yonder is be with him!” And again she waved our padre curato," said one of the old her hand toward the little boat which women to a little thing of ten, swinging was just putting out from shore. a spindle beside her. “ At this moment “Shall we have fine weather, my son?" he is entering the boat. Antonio is to asked the little priest, looking thoughtrow him over to Capri. Maria Santissi. fully over toward Naples. ma, how drowsy the reverend signore “ The sun is not yet out," answered looks !” And she waved her hand to a the fellow. We sha'n't let a bit of mist diminutive, benevolent-looking priest, annoy us." who was settling himself comfortably in Then row fast, so that we may arrive the boat, after he had carefully lifted up before the heat sets in." the skirts of his black coat and spread Antonio was on the point of grasping them over the wooden seat. The others the long oar, to propel the bark into the on the shore stopped in their work to open sea, when he stopped suddenly, watch their pastor set out, while he dis- and gazed up at the steep path that tributed friendly greetings right and leads from the little town of Sorrento to left.

the quays below. Above was visible a “And why must he go to Capri, slender girlish figure, tripping hastily grandmother?” asked the child. “Have down the stones and waving a kerchief.

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