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96. Even in a higher degree than the majority of them, he makes his design appropriate to the thing advertised. His decorations are spiced with a certain actuality, and, in being so, insist more effectively on the particular article the merits of which it is their business to proclaim. No better example of this could, I think, be put forward than the "Lait pur de la Vingeanne stérilisé," a design which, in view of the material to be advertised, is conceived in the happiest vein. The pretty little girl drinking the milk, so much coveted of the cats which surround her, is less interesting than the animals themselves. The draughtsmanship of the latter is excellent, while there is a hint of that humanity of expression about the creatures which has produced for the work of Landseer so immense a popularity. Not less admirable, and of still greater interest, is the poster designed to advertise the performances of Yvette Guilbert at the Ambassadeurs. Amongst the numerous artists to whom the Sarah Bernhardt of the music halls has given commissions none has been more successful than Steinlen. The poster represents the singer behind the footlights in an attitude pre-eminently characteristic. The thing does not amount to a caricature, as does the hitherto unpublished delineation of Toulouse-Lautrec, but is merely a slightly exaggerated portrait. It is remarkably suggestive of a most alluring and delightful

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Rh "Audition d'Œuvres de Guillaume Lekeu, Salle d'Harcourt," the face of the fantastic

kneeling woman is remarkably impressive, while the irises amidst which she kneels are

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the pictorial poster undoubtedly existed in England previous to the production of Fred Walker's "Woman in White," its artistic qualities were conspicuous by their absence. No body of artists who designed posters, such as that of which Gavarni was one in France, is to be met with in the history of English art until the present day. While, as Mr. Spielmann reminds us in a recent magazine article, Mr. Godfroy Durand and Mr. Walter Crane had both attempted the artistic affiche previous to Walker, the efforts of neither made a pronounced impression, nor were they productive of permanent results. The work of the first of these three artists announced the appearance of the then newly-founded "Graphic" and that of Mr. Walter Crane proclaimed the merits of a brand of lead pencils. It is interesting, as an example of Mr. Crane's immense versatility in decorative design, that he should be among the pioneers of the

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184 poster movement in this country. That his early effort was overshadowed by Walker's very imposing work is not a matter of surprise. From the first, Walker appears to have been deeply impressed by the possibilities of the hoardings as a free art gallery. To use his own words, as quoted by Mr. Spielmann: "I am impressed on doing all I can with a first attempt at what I consider might develop into a most important branch of art." How Walker's view has been realized the mere existence of this book is sufficient to prove. This design, which was done to advertise Wilkie Collins's novel, "The Woman in White," represents a magnificently-draped female figure stepping through a door out into the night. With one hand she opens the door, with the other she imposes silence on some person unseen. This was cut on wood by W. H. Hooper, who also engraved the small block we are permitted to reproduce here from "The Magazine of Art." The design is in black and white, and has the limitations from the advertising point of view of black and white work; but, apart from this, it is in every way a work which could not fail to impress the passer-by. "The Woman in White" is, unfortunately, Walker's sole essay in the art of the poster; on the other hand, Mr. Walter Crane has produced a series which, we may hope, has yet to close. It would seem that over ten years elapsed between

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Rh his first and second attempts in the art of the poster. We meet with him for the second time in a design in blue and yellow

which advertised the Covent Garden Promenade Concerts given in 1880. This has become extremely rare, and the artist

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186 self does not, I believe, possess a copy. Following the Covent Garden bill was one announcing the performances in London of the Paris Hippodrome Troupe. This is merely an enlargement on a vast scale of a classical drawing intended to adorn a book describing the show, but it is distinctly interesting, more so, it seems to me, than the pretty little coloured thing—a window-bill, rather than a poster—which advertises Hau's champagnes. Other posters by Mr. Crane deal with an exhibition of his own works, with various insurance companies, with the "English Illustrated Magazine" (an enlarged version of the cover), and the exhibitions of the Arts and Crafts Society. It will be seen that Mr. Crane's contribution to the art of the poster is a very substantial one, and if his designs do not always fulfil the sweet uses of advertisement, they are generally marked by fine taste. It is a matter of common knowledge that Professor Herkomer has left hardly any art or craft untouched, and it therefore goes without saying that he has left some of them unadorned. To succeed as painter, etcher, carver, musician, poet and playwright, lecturer, and actor is not given to mere man. Professor Herkomer's posters cannot, I think, be considered among his more fortunate performances. That done for "The Magazine of Art" does not lack a certain feeling for composition: the weird

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Rh creature who told us that "Black and White" was coming seemed to me to lack both dignity and grace, and, moreover, to possess very few compensating qualities. Amongst other posters by Professor Herkomer is one for his own exhibition, and one for an exhibition of pictures recently held at Oxford.

It should be noted that while most of the mural decorations of Mr. Crane and Professor Herkomer are, strictly speaking, posters, in that they were designed for the hoardings and for the hoardings alone, a great many designs and pictures by eminent artists have been reproduced and posted contrary to the original intention of their designers. The most prominent of these is, of course, Sir John Millais' famous "Bubbles," on the reproduction of which enormous sums have been spent. The thing is pretty enough, but cannot compete as an advertisement with a really good poster properly so called. Of course the name of Sir John Millais was one to conjure with, and the success of the thing has been, doubtless, great. But it is not an experiment one cares to see frequently repeated. Messrs. Pears were more happily inspired in the commission which they gave to Mr. Stacy Marks to produce a bonâ fide poster. His "Monks Shaving," seems to be most excellently conceived, and, indeed, to be the most interesting of Messrs. Pears’

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196 gallery of illustrated advertisements. Art has certainly played a very prominent part in the battle of the soaps. Mr. G. D. Leslie used his gifts to insist on the merits of the Sunlight brand, while Mr. Burton Barber pleaded pictorially for the Lifebuoy brand. A curious bit of poster-making was the reproduction of a random sketch of a girl sitting on a champagne cork, by Mr. Linley Sambourne, which seems to meet us at every turning. Again, Mr. Harry Furniss's man who had used Pears' soap years back, "and since then had used no other," is an enlarged reproduction used for advertising purposes of a drawing in "Punch." On the other hand, the "Minerva," which Mr. Poynter designed for the Guardian Assurance Company, was actually devised for the purpose of a mural advertisement. It cannot be strictly called a poster, insomuch as it is never seen in the open air unless glazed. It is a classical design in several colours, and is of a very elaborate character. For the purpose of exhibition indoors, it is glazed and mounted on linen with rollers. Another contemporary English painter who has received very high official recognition and has done a poster is Sir James Linton, P.R.I. His subject was assuredly an attractive one, "Antony and Cleopatra," but it can hardly be maintained that, for an artist of so great repute, he has produced an especially memorable design. It is a lithograph in one

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200 colour, and measures fifty by fifty-two inches. Its date is 1874, so it is clear that Sir James Linton is among the little band who tried to do something for the pictorial poster in

England when it was held of no account. Mr. Charles Green, a member of the institution of which Sir James is president, produced a rather ingenious advertisement of an exhibition of works in black and white held some time ago in Mosley Street. It

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204 is not very large, and is a lithograph in one colour.

It will be observed that the artistic poster was in the air in England not very long after it began to develop in France. It does not, however, seem to have taken so great a hold on English artists or on the English public as on the artists and public of France. In England the artistic poster appears to have been received coldly or with indifference, and doubtless many designers who would have been glad to turn their attention to the poster were deterred therefrom by lack of public sympathy. But all this has happily been changed, and if the number of poster designers is to continue increasing at the present rate, the difficulty will be, not to find the artistic advertiser, but to find the thing to be advertised. A crowd of clever young men, actuated by the success which met the efforts of the designers dealt with in the next chapter, have rushed to the poster with results altogether important

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English artists of established reputation with whom I dealt in the last chapter, were, as we saw, so anxious to inform their posters with æsthetic qualities, that for the most part, they overlooked the obvious fact that their work was vain unless it really fulfilled its primary purpose of advertising. It was left for the three men (all of comparatively recent reputation) whose names head this chapter, to give the right direction; to insist that not art, but advertisement, was the first essential. It is not for an instant to be pretended that their achievement equals in importance that of the three designers discussed in a corresponding chapter in the section of this book devoted to France. Quantity of production, it is true, is a small matter in art; and yet, in so far as quantity of production entails experience, one is forced to take it into

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206. The success of a man who has produced a hundred posters, or more, is scarcely to be expected of a designer, however ingenious, who is only making his first attempt. Moreover, to an artist accustomed to work on a small scale, it is a matter of extreme difficulty to appreciate, and when in the throes of production to keep in mind, the essentials of a design intended to be seen at a considerable distance, in the open air. He is apt to be tempted into pretty detail or subtle and harmonious colour, and therefore to forget that he should be simple almost to the point of crudeness. Under these circumstances, it is not less remarkable than it is encouraging, that Mr. Hardy, Mr. Beardsley, and Mr. Greiffenhagen in their earliest essays apprehended the situation at once, and produced posters which inevitably caught the eye of the beholder and created an impression which remained with him for a considerable time. Differing in all else, the first designs of these three artists were alike, in that they were admirable advertisements. From every hoarding in London, from the walls of every station on the Underground Railway, one was vehemently called upon to purchase a new weekly, or a new series of an old one, or to visit the Avenue Theatre. If the call was resisted, it was assuredly no fault of these artist-advertisers. To suggest that what they have done would have been impossible,

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Rh or at least improbable, if France had not paved the way, is scarcely to discount their immediate and unequivocal success: even the greatest artist is unwise if he does not condescend to make use of the work of the past.

It is, I think, Mr. Dudley Hardy who, of the three artists named, owes most to France. He has made a variation, a very personal and alluring variation, be it said, of a theme essentially Gallic in its unrestrained gaiety, its reckless joyousness. There is something of Chéret, and there is even more of Jan Van Beers, in the end-of the-century girl, elegant as she is impudent, whom Mr. Hardy depicts with such amazing verve and abandon. She is too light-hearted, too irresponsible, to be a daughter of this land of grey and rainy skies; she takes nothing seriously, save perchance a detail of her costume. And yet she is stamped with Mr. Hardy's personality as thoroughly as are the charming parisiennes of Chéret with the individuality of their inventor. Mr. Hardy began, and began wisely, by trusting for his effect to a single bold figure. Elaborate composition implies detail, and detail is one of the pitfalls of the designer of posters. Take, for example, the vast sheets which were employed to advertise one of the spectacles at Olympia. The overcrowding of small figures and closely-realized views either

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210 produced no impression whatsoever on the spectator, or at the most an impression due entirely to the immensity of the sheets. Mr. Hardy's series of posters commenced most auspiciously with that audacious young lady in a yellow dress, saucy hat, and flying black boa, who, not deigning to entreat, compelled the passer-by to rush to the nearest bookstall for a copy of Mr. Jerome's weekly "To-Day." Later, in similar vein, came the dashing girl in red, used by the manager of the Prince of Wales's Theatre to insist on the merits of "A Gaiety Girl." It may be doubted whether any more effective mural advertisement has ever been seen in London than that formed by half-a-dozen copies of this poster, arranged in the manner of a frieze in front of the theatre during the run of the piece. If the idea was that of the bill-sticker, the man was a genius of his kind: I cannot help suspecting, however, that the striking arrangement was due to Mr. Hardy himself. Or perhaps it was the happy thought of an outsider. In addition to the large "Gaiety Girl" poster, the two smaller bills which this artist designed to advertise the same play, full as they were of dash and go, must not be overlooked. To the collector they have a merit which he will not fail to appreciate. They are of manageable size, and this is more than can be said of most of Mr. Hardy's productions.

It must not be thought, however, that

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Rh Mr. Hardy can do no more than repeat with slight variety of detail the chic girl to whom he first introduced us; already, notwithstanding the comparatively small number of his designs, he has shown a very commendable versatility. The proprietors of "St. Paul's," in the days when that journal regaled its readers on the portraits, not of dancing girls, but of right reverend prelates, commissioned Mr. Hardy for a large design appropriate to the semi-ecclesiastical character of their journal. The choice, in view of the "Yellow Girl," was a somewhat curious one; but the experiment justified itself. The artist rose to the occasion; on the hoardings of London there appeared a woman of austere, even saintly, demeanour, clad in sombre robes, and armed with a spike of the Madonna lily. In spite of the low scheme of colour, the design was very telling as an advertisement. It has become very rare; indeed, notwithstanding the fact; that the dealers quote it at various prices in their catalogues, it may be questioned whether it is to be procured at all. When the policy of "St. Paul's" was changed—when it stepped down from its shrine to join the multitude and be of the world, worldly—the art of Mr. Hardy was once more called in to introduce the paper in its new guise. For the first time, so far as I know, he attempted composition. His idea was a happy one. The poster represented a young lady,

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214 evidently light-hearted and of unquestionably fantastic costume, see-sawing on a quarter of the moon with a gentleman of slight intellect, but exceedingly smart clothes. Seen under certain conditions the composition is distinctly effective, but from a long distance it fails to assert itself as do Mr. Hardy's simpler designs. In his most recent effort he has returned to the single figure, and he has done nothing more striking than his bill for "The Chieftain," at the Savoy Theatre, which represents a man in picturesque costume on a red ground. The lettering of nearly all Mr. Hardy's posters is admirable. It is invented by the artist himself, and forms an essential part of the design. For the rest, it should be remembered that the poster is a mere incident in Mr. Hardy's art career. As an illustrator he is with us everywhere; as a painter he is held in deserved esteem. It is to be hoped, for the sake of the artistic poster in England, that he will continue to devote some of his time to a branch of art in which, in comparatively a short time, he has so greatly succeeded.

The art of Mr. Aubrey Beardsley has been so enthusiastically received, on the one hand, as a new revelation, and so passionately condemned, on the other, as the mere glorification of a hideous and putrescent aspect of modern life, that it is difficult to consider his work with calmness. One thing, however, is certain: an impression

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Rh of some kind, whether agreeable or the reverse, it has undoubtedly left upon all who have seen it. It cannot be dismissed by stating that it is derivative rather than original; that to a large extent it is the outcome of Japan, and in a less degree of the old English school of caricaturists. Whether it be good or bad, the extraordinary impression it has made cannot be gainsaid. It is probable that the work of no young designer of recent times has called forth so much homage of imitation, so great an amount of that kind of caricature which is among the sincerest forms of flattery. Mr. Beardsley's eccentricities are so pronounced, that to parody his work was simply to do the obvious. From "Punch," august by reason of its fifty years of tradition, to the poorest comic rag produced to catch the errand-boy's spare halfpenny, is a far cry; and yet the former, no less than the latter, has treated its readers to a series of pictorial Beardsleyisms. It would have been wonderful, indeed, if Mr. Beardsley, who is nothing if not modern, had not attempted the artistic poster. His opportunity came when the Avenue Theatre was taken by an enthusiastic and courageous young actress for the production of plays by living English writers, which, whatever their fate from the commercial point of view, were at least to possess definite merits as pieces of literature. In order to advertise Dr. Todhunter's

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220 "Comedy of Sighs," and Mr. G. Bernard Shaw's "Arms and the Man;" Mr. Beardsley excelled himself, and designed perhaps the most remarkable poster ever seen, up to that time, in London.

Nothing so compelling, so irresistible, had ever been posted on the hoardings of the metropolis before. Some gazed at it with awe, as if it were the final achievement of modern art; others jeered at it as a palpable piece of buffoonery: everybody, however, from the labourer hurrying in the dim light of the morning to his work, to the prosperous stockbroker on his way to the "House," was forced to stop and look at it. Hence, it fulfilled its primary purpose to admiration; it was a most excellent advertisement. The old theatrical poster represented, in glaring colours, the hero in a supreme moment of exaltation, or the heroine in the depths of despair. Mr. Beardsley did not condescend to illustrate, but produced a design, irrelevant and tantalizing to the average man, though doubtless full of significance to himself. In many respects the Avenue bill must be considered the best poster which so far has come from this artist's hands. The very graceful figure on a small poster for "The Yellow Book" speaks for itself. It is more vivid, more curious, than either of the two done for a London publisher. Most collectors, however, will treasure even more highly

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Rh the charming design done by Mr. Beardsley to advertise the Pseudonym series of short stories. In it we meet with the artist in his less mordant mood. The sketch of the

old bookshop in the background is quite delightful, and the whole design is less grotesque than most of Mr. Beardsley's productions. The arrangement in purple and

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224 white, which he did for the same firm, is a very striking performance in his later manner. Its importance as a poster is, however, seriously discounted by the fact that the design has nothing whatsoever to do with the text, which has been added in a manner almost inconceivably clumsy.

The success of Mr. Beardsley in the production of artistic posters has encouraged a host of imitators, so that it is quite within the bounds of possibility that he will found something in the nature of a school. Already, on the other side of the Atlantic, more than one artist has been inspired by him. The posters of Mr. Bradley, for example, with which I shall deal later, are unquestionably adaptations, at once skilful and intelligent, of Mr. Beardsley's decorative manner. Again, to return to England, the pleasant arrangement in red and white, designed by Mrs. Dearmer to advertise a recital recently given by her in London, proves that she has been affected by the simplicity and directness which are so conspicuous among the merits of Mr. Beardsley in his essays in the art of the hoarding. Of his many parodists only one, I think, has actually attempted the poster. The essay in question was made by Mr. J. Hearn, under the signature of "Weirdsly Daubery," and the result was very fantastic and amusing. The design was done for some amateur theatricals at Oxford, and it was curious to

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Rh meet this atom of the so-called decadence flaunting itself, with strange incongruity, in every nook and corner of "the sweet city of the dreaming spires."

The case of Mr. Maurice Grieffenhagen is similar to that of Mr. Dudley Hardy, insomuch as both have been well known for some time to the public as painters and as the producers of very accomplished work in black and white. At present Mr. Grieffenhagen, as a designer of posters, can only be judged by a single production. It may be said at once that nothing more distinguished, nothing which is less imitative or derivative, has come from English hands than Mr. Grieffenhagen's advertisement for the "Pall Mall Budget." Admirable alike in colour and in pattern, the poster is entirely appropriate to its purpose of keeping before the eyes of the public a publication which escaped frivolity on the one hand and dulness on the other. All who watch the development of the artistic poster in England with interest, cannot but hope that the "Pall Mall Budget" poster will be the first of a series by the same artist equally delightful and original.

It is interesting to note that while we are still a long way behind the French in the matter of the artistic poster, the productions of the three artists with whom I have just dealt have received a cordial welcome at the hands of Parisian collectors. In the dealers'

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230 shops you may see Mr. Hardy's "Gaiety Girl" side by side with Lautrec's "Reine de Joie," while Mr. Grieffenhagen's young lady in red looks with demure surprise at the antics of her more frivolous sisters, as depicted by Jules Chéret. There is, again, a steady demand for anything by Mr. Beardsley, who, it would seem, has already become an established favourite with French connoisseurs. As we shall see in another chapter, the prices put in Paris upon English posters compare very favourably with those at which the works of the ablest French designers are valued. In matters of art, few cities are more insular and intolerant than the French metropolis; and those English artists who are devoting themselves to the poster, should be encouraged by enthusiastic recognition where enthusiasm was least to be expected.

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this book was commenced as the companion, rather than the rival, of that of M. Maindron, English designers of the poster have multiplied in a degree altogether phenomenal.

Up to the time in question, as we have already seen, the English artist who attempted the poster was exceptional. The famine, which was prevalent only a year or two ago, has become the abundance of today, so that where one expected a dearth of subject matter, one has in fact: an excess. It seems to me that, apart from the English pioneers, whom we have already considered, the brothers Beggarstaff, in reality Messrs. Pryde and Simpson, two young artists, are entitled to the first place among the makers of the English artistic poster. They have best appreciated the essence of their business: less than almost any native designers, they are innocent of any homage of imitation. They have imitated neither Chéret nor Lautrec: it may well be that they have

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232 had the wisdom to take a hint here and there from both of these masters of the art of the affiche. As yet the hoardings of London are screaming with the vulgar designs of the advertiser's hack. The admirable art of the Beggarstaffs is, up to now, infrequently met with. Their curious advertisement for Sir Henry Irving's production of "Becket," was eclipsed by that done for the same manager's "Don Quixote," while the latter has to give place to one intended to announce a special issue of "Harper's Magazine." All of these force themselves on the collector's attention. They are at once striking and artistic; they cry their wares well, and they are a delight to the eyes. The lettering in the Harper poster is beyond all praise. Of its kind, it is the most beautiful English lettering of which I know. At the Aquarium Exhibition the Beggarstaff’s showed four posters which advertised Nobody's Blue, Nobody's Candles, Nobody's Niggers, and Nobody's Pianos. If each "Nobody" is not rapidly converted into "Somebody," the various manufacturers and proprietors of the articles mentioned above must be very stupid people. All were excellent; that which advertised Nobody's Pianos was a most curious and a most original performance. It seems to me that the Beggarstaffs have few serious rivals in England, and not very many in France. Their works should help very

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Rh considerably in the task of revolutionizing the English pictorial poster. The

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236 of Mr. Sickert that he should go to the music-halls for a subject. The "New English Art Club" is devoted to things which are

new and strange, the artistic poster amongst them. Mr. Sickert is not the only one of the members of this club who have made an essay in the latest form of applied art. Mr. Beardsley, Mr. R. Anning Bell, and Mr.

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Rh Wilson Steer are amongst those of his colleagues who have done the same thing. Mr. Sickert's poster, which is, I believe, as yet unpublished, is in four colours. It is calculated to make a good advertisement, and one can only hope soon to meet with it on the hoardings. As an impressionist painter of talent, Mr. Wilson Steer is as well known as Mr. Sickert. A "New English Art Club" Exhibition without his work would be one which lacked a most characteristic feature. Mr. Steer gave us an opportunity of appreciating his talent as a painter by organizing a show of his own work. To advertise this he did a poster, which was excellent of its kind, and is in consequence very rare. It is a comparatively small lithograph in four colours, and is quite unlike this artist's other work. It leans, it seems to me, towards Pre-Raphaelitism rather than towards Impressionism. An artist who has certainly sat at the feet of Mr. Whistler is Mr. Mortimer Menpes. To advertise several exhibitions of his paintings, he has invented at least three posters, which certainly do not lack the merit of originality. He has abstained from the frivolous girl and grotesque man. The "France," the "Venice," and the "India" are in their way considerable achievements in dainty design and quiet and harmonious colour. Mr. Menpes, by being intentionally simple, has arrived at notable conspicuity. All this artist's

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244 signs are of small size, and are appropriate rather to the notice board than to the hoarding. Nothing more opposite to the fastidious productions of Mr. Menpes could be conceived than the vigorous poster by Mr. Lockhart Bogle advertising a Scottish Athletic Gathering, held in 1892. This is a large lithograph, consisting of a single figure of a Highlander, which, if not remarkably beautiful, is drawn with vigour and with no small accuracy. Mr. Brangwyn is one of those English painters of whom we are entitled to be proud. His directness, the audacity of his impressionism, the splendour (if sometimes ill-considered) of his colour schemes, cannot be passed over even by those who have slight sympathy with his method. That, if so inclined, he would produce a poster at once startling and artistic is not to be denied. The one which he has already designed to advertise an exhibition of South African pictures by himself and Mr. William Hunt, held at the Japanese Gallery, is certainly by no means worthy his remarkable talent, and one trusts that he will cease for a moment from painting pictures and produce a poster which shall be memorable in the history of the affiche in England.

Mr. Frank Richards is nothing if not versatile; his exhibition, held recently at the Dowdeswells’ Galleries, came as a surprise to all who were unacquainted with his

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248 clever painting. In this exhibition his pictures ranged from a large study of Mr. Clive as "Hamlet" to slight but beautiful studies of Venice under various atmospheric conditions. In his poster work, of which at present little has been seen, Mr. Richards shows that, to some extent, he is under the influence of Mr. Dudley Hardy. Mr. Richards, no less than Mr. Hardy, is undeniably up to date, and his work is really effective. Among the most recent additions to the ranks of our popular illustrators is Mr. Lewis Baumer. One meets with his work everywhere; in "To-Day" and in the short lived "Unicorn." His bills to advertise the Academy students' annual burlesque are pretty, if they are nothing else. Mr. Baumer has certainly still to make his mark as a poster designer. The Artistic Supply Company, who are paying special attention to the pictorial poster, have already produced a dainty little affiche by him. It may be noted here that the company in question have arranged with some of the most eminent English designers for the reproduction of artistic posters, and that several, which illustrate these pages, do so only on account of their permission most generously given.

Among other services which the comic journal "Pick-Me-Up" has rendered to the artistic public is the extremely important one of emphasizing, and giving a congenial outlet to, the remarkable talent of Mr.

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Rh Raven-Hill. From almost the first, his connection with the journal in question has been a very intimate one. Hardly a number is without a specimen of his powerful drawing and his gift of comic invention. While suggesting, in the best sense, the style of the incomparable Charles Keene, Mr. Raven-Hill's work in black and white is the outcome of his own personality. It would have been strange if this very modern artist had not produced pictorial posters: his talent was perfectly adapted to his doing so with success. His small bills for "Pick-Me-Up" are vigorous in drawing, bold in colour, and of a pleasant fantasy. They only measure twenty by thirty inches, but they are very telling. A complete set of them is a most desirable addition to the collector's portfolio. Another accomplished member of the staff of "Pick-Me-Up," Mr. Edgar Wilson, has designed a bill for the recently defunct journal, "The Unicorn." It is effective, but to me personally, the colour scheme is even more crude than the exigencies of a poster demand. Mr. Reginald Cleaver, whose sketches of scenes in the House of Commons created so favourable an impression in "The Daily Graphic," has not yet, I believe, deliberately produced a pictorial poster; but one of his drawings, reproduced on a large scale, lends itself well enough to the purposes of mural advertisement. Mr. Sydney Adamson, the art editor of

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254 "To-day" and "The Idler," has done a bill which, when it is seen, will be held, I have small doubt, a very striking performance. It is happily conceived and boldly executed, and should make a striking patch of colour on the hoardings.

Merely to chronicle the names of the innumerable Wilsons who are producing pictures would take quite a considerable space. It may be noted in passing that, like Edgar of that name, Mr. W. Wilson has also attempted an affiche.

Among others who have designed posters which have yet to be seen on the hoardings are Mr. Max Cowper, Mr. A. R. Miller, Mr. Kerr Lawson, Mr. F. H. Townsend, whose black and white work one meets everywhere, Mr. Roche, a prominent member of the Glasgow School, and one of the greatest living English artists, Mr. Phil May.

Mr. Phil May is not the only "Punch" man who has been seized with the prevailing mania for the production of posters, His colleague, Mr. Bernard Partridge, has already designed one which is reproduced in these pages. One associates Mr. Partridge with dainty and idyllic work rather than with work which is vigorous, but his first essay in the poster seems to me to be very promising. Mr. J. T. Manuel's work is as unlike that of Mr. Bernard Partridge as possible. His pictures might be by a clever member of the young French School who

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276 have taken more than a hint from Forain. The designs for posters which Mr. Manuel exhibited at the Westminster Aquarium, if not so distinctive of his talent as his contributions in black and white to "Pick-Me Up," were not without definite merit. Of the three, that catalogued as "A Music-hall Singer" struck me as the best. It should be purchased by Miss Minnie Cunningham, for the likeness between her, and the young lady it represents, if accidental, is marvellous. Among young decorative painters of the day who are not mere imitators of such masters as Sir Edward Burne-Jones or Puvis de Chavannes, but have invented a style for themselves, must be included Mr. Charles Ffoulkes. The two examples of his poster-work here reproduced are as beautiful in colour as they are refined in pattern. Moreover, they proclaim themselves in loud tones. Their tones, however, are those of a silver trumpet rather than those of cymbal or of gong. At times Mr. Ffoulkes forsakes his lofty imaginings and depicts chic young ladies quite in the best French manner. Mr. L. Solon's poster, reproduced here, is a very characteristic example of his decorative style. In inventing it, the artist has clearly kept before him the fact that a poster cannot live by beauty alone; if, happily, there be beauty, there must of necessity be advertisement, else is failure inevitable.

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 Shelburne. His lordship, however, punctually paid the annuity of £150 a year which he had promised.

After leaving Lord Shelburne in 1779, Priestley visited London, but ultimately settled in Birmingham, having been appointed Unitarian minister to the Old Meeting Chapel (no longer in existence—New Street Station is on the site of Priestley's chapel). At this time he was friendly with Watt, Wedgwood, Boulton, Darwin, the Galtons, and others. Mrs Schimmelpenninck (née Galton) described Priestley as "a man of admirable simplicity, gentleness, and kindness of heart, united with great acuteness of intellect."

He resigned his charge in 1791, when his friends raised a sum annually for him, in order that he might be able to prosecute his investigations without the necessity of teaching. During this period, although he published a vast amount of chemical work, he could not leave theology, metaphysics, and politics alone. Sympathizing with the Americans in the War of Independence, and afterwards with the French in the Revolution, and his writings and speeches against the Established Church, brought him into controversy with the clergy of Birmingham. The controversy was bitter and long. Priestley was regarded as a dangerous character, an enemy to Church and State, and even Burke (1729-97) spoke against him in the House of Commons. Such was the feeling against dissenters—"fomenters of sedition"; but that is far from being the


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Rh Very unlike Mr. Solon's poster are the affiches of Mr. Heywood Sumner; those which I reproduce here seem to me to be very characteristic of his graceful gift of design. Mr. Morrow is already an established favourite on the hoardings of London, and justly so in that his performances are of exceptional merit. His "Illustrated Bits"

is a radiant affair, and his "New Woman" makes quite a pretty picture. His works should certainly be collected.

Of Mr. R. Anning Bell it is not too much to say that for versatility only Mr. Walter Crane among English artists can be said to rival him, and, what is far more important, his success in a medley of mediums

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280 is not to be gainsaid. His poster for the Liverpool School of Art, over which he presides, is a magnificent piece of decoration, and nothing so fine, in its way, has ever been, seen on English hoardings. It takes one up to the Elgin marbles; it is an oasis of the classical in a desert of the new. I can only mention the following native artists, not previously considered, who have produced pictorial posters of interest: Mr. F. Barnard ("Everybody should read in the European School"), Mr. F. Simpson ("Land of the Midnight Sun," "To Norway Fjords"), Mr. Robert Fowler, R.I., whose poster for the Walker Art Gallery is here illustrated, Mr. Sidney Haward (p. 279), Mr. Skipworth ("An Artist's Model"), Mr. Skinner ("Pall Mall Magazine"), Mr. Starr Wood and Mr. A. G. Draper.

I have already remarked that the poster movement in this country amounts to a positive revolution. No young artist is satisfied unless he has a hand in the decoration of the hoardings; the gold frame is for the time forgotten, and all have their eyes on the lithographers stone. France has undoubtedly had a long start of us, but if she is to retain her supremacy she must look to her laurels. Our young men are beating at her doors, though beating only in a spirit of friendly rivalry. Happily, between England and France there is, at this moment, only one war—the war of the pictorial poster.

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the sweet uses of advertisement the American is surely an expert, and it would have been curious indeed, if he had overlooked so obvious and so effective a method of advertising as the pictorial poster. Finding, in the notorious phrase of Mr. Whistler, that "Art was on the town," the American advertiser was one of the most eager of those passing gallants who chucked her under the chin. Who it was originated the artistic poster movement in the States, it were hard to say with certainty: it may have been Mr. Matt. Morgan. Among recent American poster producers, three, however, are most conspicuous, Mr. Edward Penfield, Mr. Louis J. Rhead, and Mr. Will. H. Bradley. It is probable that the first-named was the innovator: at least, one would be tempted to judge so from the quantity of his designs.

Mr. Penfield is still young, having been born at Brooklyn in the year 1866, so that if he was the first American artist to deal with the poster, the movement in that

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286 is obviously a recent one. Most of his posters are on a small scale, and partake of the nature of window-bills rather than of placards especially destined to the hoarding. At the same time, Mr. Penfield has been by no means slow to appreciate that it is the first

business of an advertisement to advertise, and his appreciation of this fact, coupled with a very dainty fancy and no small technical skill, has led to results which are of unquestionable importance. With his earliest efforts I cannot pretend to be well acquainted. In 1893 he produced for a

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Rh firm at Salem a large bill which measures eighty-one by forty-two inches. The subject is a girl in a black dress and yellow jacket who is laden with packages. For

the publications of the firm of Harpers, Mr. Penfield has done quite a quantity of excellent and artistic advertisements. Amongst the most effective is one produced for a special midsummer number of

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288 "Harper's Bazar," representing a girl playing a banjo, divided by a crimson sun from an attentive listener of the opposite sex. Again, for the issue of July, 1894, the artist gives us a girl in white lighting red crackers arranged to spell the name of the month. For the February number of the following year, we are presented, most appropriately, with a gentleman posting a valentine in an orange coloured letter-box. In April of the same year, Mr. Penfield gives us Joan of Arc in yellow, wielding sword and staff. Amongst the numerous books which Mr. Penfield has advertised may be mentioned "The Cloister and the Hearth," "Pastime Stories," "Our English Cousins," and "Perlycross." This artist's work is always ingeniously conceived, and the colour schemes are not seldom pleasantly audacious. Mr. Penfield gives us very agreeable versions of the American girl in general, and of the "summer girl" in particular. His maidens are adorably conscious of their power to charm, and are fully alive to the fact that their gowns are of the smartest.

To turn from Mr. Penfield to Mr. Louis J. Rhead is to turn to an artist settled in the United States, but English by birth and education. Mr. Rhead was born at Etruria, that unclassical place with the classical name, and comes of a family of artists. He was, I believe, a student at South

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Rh for several years, and only reached America in 1883. He has exhibited at the

Salon and the Academy and other important picture shows.

Mr. Rhead seems to have taken to the

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294 poster with the greatest enthusiasm, and he has undoubtedly produced a series of curious and striking designs. By far the most important of his efforts, though not the largest, are the designs which he has done for the New York "Sun." In one of these very daring productions, a crimson sun glows in a golden sky. The ground is green, the footpath and the trees are blue, while the girl's costume is garnet and red. It must be confessed that this colour scheme sounds somewhat formidable, but Mr. Rhead has invented an arrangement at once artistic and compelling. The lettering, it must be noted with regret, is not from his own hand. One of the largest of Mr. Rhead's posters is the "Pearline," in which a girl in a green and red dress is represented in the act of pinning a sheet on to a line. This design measures forty-one by twenty-eight inches. Of considerable size, and of no small merit, is the poster executed for the "Century," Christmas, 1894, the chief feature of which is a girl with a peacock. Among other effective designs which stand to the credit of Mr. Rhead may be mentioned those advertising "Harper's Bazar," Christmas, 1890, Thanksgiving, 1894, and Christmas of the same year. For the "Century," besides that already noticed, he has done several interesting posters, and he helped to advertise various numbers of "St. Nicholas" last year. It is to be noted that

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Rh Mr. Louis Rhead has held an exhibition of his posters, the catalogue of which, by reason of its very characteristic and personal

DESIGN BY LOUIS J. RHEAD.

decorations, is highly esteemed by collectors of those unconsidered trifles which end in becoming especially dear to the connoisseur.

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298 Among the magazines of the world, the "Chap Book," which emanates from Chicago, is by no means the least interesting. Fascinating as is the title, the contents of this little periodical are still more so; its editors seem to have eschewed banality, and to have gone in for novelty, even when the new did not possess an extraordinary degree of merit. It were meet that so original a publication should have an advertiser of corresponding eccentricity. In Mr. Will. H. Bradley, the proprietors of the "Chap Book" undoubtedly possess such an one. Born at Springfield, Massachusetts, Mr. Bradley lives in Chicago, and to that town and its publications he has mainly devoted his energies as an artist advertiser. It will hardly be disputed that he has seen and assimilated, in no small degree, the manner of Mr. Aubrey Beardsley. He is, however, a great deal more than a mere imitator; what he has borrowed, he has borrowed with conspicuous intelligence, and nobody could for a moment accuse him of anything approaching petty larceny. Among his most important posters is a colossal one which, in the manner of Mr. Beardsley, proclaims the attractions of the drama by Mr. Henry Arthur Jones, entitled "The Masqueraders." In 1894 Mr. Bradley advertised the "Chap Book" by means of two dancers in red and brown costumes; the following year he insisted on the same

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Rh publication by means of a girl in white and a man in black; and yet again, through the medium of a young lady in blue, mixed up with trees in intense purple, outlined with red and white; and several other equally effective compositions.

Mr. Bradley is, however, not the only artist intimately connected with Chicago who has distinguished himself in the production of posters. A native of that city, Mr. Will. Carqueville, has done very interesting work for the firm of Lippincott's. In the year 1894, at least one design by him was commissioned, and in the succeeding year he produced four or more. That he is not afraid of colour is proved by the fact that in the poster done for Lippincott's, March, 1895, he combines dark purple, yellow, blue, and bronze. In another design we meet with red, purple, yellow, and blue. Mr. Kenyon Cox is an American artist whose fame is by no means confined to the United States. A pupil of Gerôme and Carolus Duran, he has, so far as I know, made only one essay in the art of the poster. This measures eighty-one by forty inches, and is in black and white. It represents a male figure carrying a torch, and is an advertisement for "Scribner's Magazine." Mr. Scotson Clark was a schoolfellow of Mr. Aubrey Beardsley. He has, among other posters, done two to which the picturesque labels of "Our Lady of the Peacock

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300 Feather," and "Lady of the Iris," are attached. In addition, for the March issue of the "Bookman," 1895, Mr. Scotson Clark drew a monk, with book in hand. Mr. George Wharton Edwards, the well-known painter in water-colours, must be credited with three designs for the "Century," in the months of February, March, and April, 1895. Moreover, by means of a drawing of a girl and a peacock, he proclaimed the twenty-eighth annual exhibition of the American Water-Colour Society, in addition to designing a bill for a book entitled "The Man Who Married the Moon." The advertising enterprise of the firm of Scribner has made poster-collectors the richer by one or two productions by Mr. Charles Gibson Dana. He it was who announced, with no inconsiderable skill, the issues of "Scribner's Magazine" for the months of January and February, 1895. Mr. Archie Gunn is the son of a well-known drawing master in one of the large towns of the Midlands. Leaving England for America, he found an outlet for his talent as a draughtsman on the New York journal "Truth." His work is nearly always vivacious, even where it is not particularly original. His posters were done for the "Illustrated American," and are by no means bad examples of his craftsmanship. Like most prominent American artists, Mr. Thomas Burford Meteyard studied in Paris. His poster to advertise a book called

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is obviously impossible to state accurately the price of the artistic poster, insomuch as fluctuations take place almost daily, and, moreover, the numerous dealers vary in their quotations in an extraordinary degree. Under these circumstances, the present chapter is written as a matter of current record, rather than with the idea that it will be of any permanent value for purposes of reference. It may be stated at the outset, that in dealing with the value of the poster, rarity has in the first place to be taken into consideration; and thus it happens that, while delightfully artistic designs are comparatively inexpensive, posters which are quite unattractive from the point of view of art are often very costly. The prices which follow are for the most part taken from the catalogues of M. Edmond Sagot of Paris, and Mr. Bella of London, the latter of whom, by the organization of exhibitions and in other ways, has rendered

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Rh "Songs from Vagabondia" is in black and white, and consists of portraits of the artist himself and the authors of the book, Mr. Bliss Carman and Mr. Richard Hovey. A limited number of copies were printed "sur Japon," and these, I believe, are rare. As in the case of so many other American artists, Mr. Francis Day's poster work was done for the most part for the great illustrated magazines which do such credit to the United States, as an art-producing nation. Mr. Day's design for "St. Nicholas," Christmas, 1894, seems to me altogether agreeable, while in the series designed for "Scribner's Magazine," more than one interesting thing will be found.

In dealing with the poster in England, we have noticed the fact that one woman, Mrs. Dearmer, has succeeded in producing a bill at once artistic and effective. Miss Ethel Reed would seem to be the most conspicuous lady-artist who has taken up the designing of artistic posters in the States. Her efforts date only from last February, when she did an advertisement for the "Boston Sunday Herald." Since then she has produced several designs which are held in considerable esteem by American collectors. Amongst other artists who have taken part in the poster movement on the other side of the Atlantic are the following: Messrs. Alder ("New York World," March 17th, 1895), Allen, Palmer Cox

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318 ("New Brownie Book"), C. Miles Gardner ("Boston Sunday Herald," February 10th, 1895, and March 10th, 1895), Oliver Herford, Charles M. Howard ("Boston Sunday Herald," April 21st, 1895), Frank King ("New York World," April 7th, 1895), H. McCarter (the Green Tree Library), Moores ("St. Nicholas," November, 1894), Julius A. Schweinfurth (Boston Festival Orchestra, 1895), W. Granville Smith ("Scribner's Magazine," Christmas, 1894), W. L. Taylor, Abby E. Underwood, R. Wills Irving, C. H. Woodbury, Charles Hubbard Wright, and William M. Paxton. The last named has been chiefly associated with the "Boston Sunday Herald," and for that journal he has produced several posters of distinction.

My review of the artistic poster movement in America has been of necessity brief, and cannot, therefore, be free from sins of omission. In writing it, I have, where my own knowledge has seemed to me insufficient, made use of the descriptive catalogue of the collection of American posters published last May by Mr. Charles Knowles Bolton, of Brookline, Massachusetts. From the useful bibliography printed at the end of this pamphlet, it would seem that the movement has been watched from the first by the American press with keen interest. So far back as the year 1892, we find Mr. Brander Matthews discussing the pictorial poster in the "Century" magazine. In the

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Rh present year the subject has been dealt with by writers in such important newspapers as

DESIGN BY SCOTSON CLARK.

the "New York Tribune" and the "Boston Herald," to say nothing of such journals as

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322 "Scribner's Magazine," the "Critic," the "Art Interchange," and the "Art Amateur." Quite recently the English public have had opportunities of seeing the best work by French and native artists. It is to be hoped that at the next poster exhibition they will be afforded a chance of seeing what excellent work American designers are doing in this very practical branch of applied art.

A poster by Mr. E. A. Abbey, illustrated on page 315, arrived too late for consideration in its proper place. It is entirely worthy the great reputation of the artist who has so kindly permitted us to reproduce it here. The figure is in red scale armour, bearing a shield with a red cross.

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way to the woods where the little school outing was to be held ran close to the road on which the Bobbsey house stood. As Freddie and Flossie, with Nan and Bert, marched along with the others, Freddie cried out:

"Oh, I hope we see mamma, and then we can wave to her."

"Yes, and maybe she'll come with us," suggested Flossie. "Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Pooh!" exclaimed Bert. "Mamma's too busy to come to a picnic to-day. She's expecting company."

"Yes," added Nan, "the minister and his wife are coming, and mamma's cooking a lot of things."

"Why, does a minister eat more than other folks?" asked Freddie. "If they does, I'm going to be a minister when I grow up."

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100 "I thought you were going to be a fireman," said Bert.

"Well, I can be a fireman week days and a minister on Sundays," said the little fellow, thus solving the problem. "But do they eat so much, Nan?"

"No, of course not, only mamma wants to be polite to them, so she has a lot of things cooked up, so that if they don't like one thing they can have another. Folks always give their best to the minister."

"Then I'm surely going to be one, too," declared Flossie. "I like good things to eat. I hope our minister isn't very hungry, 'cause then there'll be some left for us when we come home from this picnic."

"Why, Flossie!" cried Nan. "We have a lovely lunch with us; plenty, I'm sure."

"Well, I'm awful hungry, Nan," said the little girl. "Besides, Sammie Jones, and his sister Julia, haven't any lunch at all. I saw them, and they looked terrible hungry. Couldn't we give them some of ours; if we have so much at home?"

"Of course we could, and it is very kind

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Rh of you to think of them," said Nan, as she patted her little sister on her head. "I'll look after Sammie and Julia when we get to the grove."

In spite of what Nan and Bert had said about Mrs. Bobbsey being very busy, Flossie and Freddie looked anxiously in the direction of their house as they walked along. But no sight of their mother greeted them. They did see a friend, however, and this was none other than Snap, their new dog, who, with many barks and wags of his fluffy tail, ran out to meet his little masters and mistresses.

"Here, Snap! Snap!" called Freddie. "Come on, old fellow!" and the dog leaped all about him.

"Let's take him to the picnic with us," suggested Flossie. "We can have lots of fun."

"And he can eat the scraps," said Nan. "Shall we, Bert?"

"I don't care. But maybe Mr. Tetlow wouldn't like it."

"You ask him, Bert," pleaded Flossie. "Tell him Snap will do tricks to amuse us."

Bert good-naturedly started ahead to speak

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102 to the principal, who was talking with some of the teachers, planning games for the little folk. Flossie and Freddie were patting their pet, when Danny Rugg, and one of his friends came along.

"That dog can't come to our picnic!" said Danny, with a scowl. "He might bite some of us."

"Snap never bites!" cried Freddie.

"Of course not," said Flossie.

"Well, he can't come to this picnic!" spoke Danny, angrily. "Go on home!" he cried, sharply, stooping to pick up a stone. Snap growled and showed his teeth.

"There!" cried Danny. "I told you he'd bite."

"He will not, Danny Rugg!" exclaimed Nan, who had gone up front for a minute to speak to some of the older girls. "He only growled because you acted mean to him. Now you leave him alone, or I'll tell Mr. Tetlow on you."

"Pooh! Think I care? I say no dog can come to our picnic. Go on home!" and with raised hand Danny approached Snap. Again

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Rh the dog growled angrily. He was not used to being treated in this way.

"Look out, Danny Rugg," said Nan, severely, "or he may jump on you, and knock you down. He wouldn't bite you, though, mean as you are, unless I told him to do so."

"I'm not afraid of you!" cried Danny, more angry than before. "I'll get a stick and then we'll see what will happen," and he looked about for one.

"Don't let Danny beat Snap!" pleaded Flossie, tears coming into her eyes.

"I won't," said Nan, looking about anxiously for Bert. She saw him coming back, and felt better. By this time Danny had found a club, and was coming back to where Flossie, Freddie and Nan, with some of their friends, were walking along, Snap in their midst.

"I'll make that dog go home now!" cried Danny. "I'm not going to get bitten, and have hyperfobia, or whatever you call it. I'll tell Mr. Tetlow if you don't make him go home."

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104 "Oh, don't be so smart!" exclaimed Bert, stepping out from behind a group of girls. "I've told Mr. Tetlow myself that Snap is following us, and he said to let him come along. So you needn't take the trouble, Danny Rugg. And if you try to hit our dog I'll have something more to say," and Bert stepped boldly forth.

"Huh! I'm not afraid of you," sneered Danny, but he let the club drop, and walked off with his own particular chums.

"Did Mr. Tetlow say Snap could come?" asked Freddie, anxiously.

"Yes. He said he'd be good to drive away the cows if they bothered us," answered Bert, with a smile.

After this little trouble, the Bobbseys and their friends went on toward the grove in the woods where the picnic was to be held. There was laughing and shouting, and much fun on the way, in which Snap shared.

Boys and girls would run to one side or the other of the path to gather late flowers. Some would pick up odd stones, or pine cones, and others would find curious little creeping or

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Rh crawling things which they called their friends to see.

Each teacher had charge of her special class, but she did not look too closely after them, for it was a day to be happy and free from care, with no thought of school or lessons.

"We'll make Snap do some tricks when we get to the grove," said Flossie.

"Yes, we'll have a little circus," added her brother.

"Can he stand on his head?" one girl wanted to know.

"Well, he can turn a somersault, and he's on his head for a second while he's doing that," explained Freddie, proudly.

"Can he roll over and over?" a boy wanted to know. "We had a dog, once, that could."

"Snap can, too," said Flossie. "Roll over, Snap!" she ordered, and the dog, with a bark, did so. The children laughed and some clapped their hands. They thought Snap was about the best dog they had ever seen.

No accidents happened on the way to the grove, except that one little boy tried to cross a brook on some stones, instead of the plank

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106 which the others used. He slipped in and got his feet wet, but as the day was warm no one worried much.

Finally the grove was reached. It was in a wooded valley, with hills on either side, and a cold, clear spring of water at one end, where everyone could get a drink. And that always seems to be what is most wanted at a picnic—a drink of water.

Mr. Tetlow called all the children together, before letting them go off to play, and told them at what time the start for home would be made, so that they would not be late in coming back to the meeting place.

"And now," he said, "have the best fun you can. Play anything you wish—school games if you like—but don't get too warm or excited. And don't go too far away. You may eat your luncheon when you like."

"Then let's eat ours now," suggested Flossie. "I'm awful hungry."

"So am I," said Freddie. So Nan and Bert decided that the little ones might at least have a sandwich and a piece of cake. Nor did they forget the two little Jones children, who had no lunch. The Bobbseys were well provided

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Page:The Independent Hindustan Volume I Number 4.djvu/3

 A Monthly Review of Political, Economic, Social and Intellectual Independence of India

NE of the most important planks in the Non-Cooperation program promulgated by the people of India is the boycott of the British Universities, Schools and Colleges, and the establishment of National Universities exclusively under national control. In conformity to the decision and desires of the people, the students of the great Aligarh College have revolted and demanded that the College must sever all connection with the British government and refuse any financial aid. As the British government threatened the Trustees of the College, Mr. Mohammed Ali, an Alumni and leader of the people, urged the students to take possession of several buildings. The revolutionary students, after taking control of buildings, formed a nucleus of a new National University.

The actual fight, however, ensued between the students and the British officials. When the students were forcibly evicted, they occupied several bungalows and tents where the National University functions its machinery.

Being inspired by the success of the Aligarh revolution, the students all over India are forming brotherhoods, and demanding the school authorities to break every connection with the British government. The student revolt is spreading far and wide in India.

The significance of this revolt lies in the fact that these students will swell the rank of the revolutionaries, and carry on the program of the bloodless revolution plan. The youthful enthusiasm, vigorous optimism, spirit of sacrifice, and vivid vision are needed to-dey to steer the Indian National Solidarity. The students of Aligarh are to be congratulated for the logical lead they have taken, not only to destroy the obsolete, old and non-progressive system of British education, but also to build up National Institutions which will feed the youths of India with sound, rational and healthy knowledge. It is to be hoped that the students will go among the masses and offer their services to educate and enlighten them and ameliorate their conditions.

Fifteen years ago, as a result of the British divide el impera policy, the students revolted and forced their parents to establish national educational system.

On the 16th of November, 1905, several leading citizens met in a conference at Calcutta to consider the question of National Education. Over 15,000 students marched in a body to await the decision of the conference. It was declared that a National Council of Education should be at once established to organize a system of Education—Literary, Scientific and Technical—on National lines and under National control. The students triumphantly went to put a sign—TO LET—on the premises of the Presidency College, the chief governmental institution in Calcutta. The Government University was termed as Golám Kháná—manufactories of slaves.

Through the lead and action of the students, on the 1st of June, 1906, the National Council of Education was finally registered. The objects of which were:

To impart and promote the imparting of Education—Literary and Scientific, as well as Technical and Professional—on National lines and exclusively under National control, attaching special importance to a knowledge of the country, its Literature, History and Philosophy, and designed to incorporate with the best Oriental ideals of life and thought, the best assimilable ideals of the West and to inspire students with a genuine love for and a real desire to serve the country.

The National Educational movement has done inestimable service to the growth and development of national spirit in India. The students of National Colleges and Schools have taken very important part in all political activities. With their far-sightedness, intelligence, character and power of organization, they have guided the revolutionary movement. And the present day revolt of the students beckons the day of the realisation of their cherished ideals. The British rule in India is coming to an end, and India, with her genuine cosmopolitan ideals will occupy a prominent place among the comity of nations. And when that day comes, the National Educational movement will shine gloriously as one of the achievements of the Revolutionary movement.


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Rh and soon Sammie and Julia were smiling and happy as they sat beneath a tree, eating.

Then came all sorts of games, from tag and jumping rope, to blind-man's bluff and hide-and-seek. Snap was made to do a number of tricks, much to the amusement of the teachers and children. Danny Rugg, and some of the older boys, got up a small baseball game, and then Danny, with one or two chums, went off in a deeper part of the woods. Bert heard one of the boys ask another if he had any matches.

"I know what they're going to do," whispered Bert to Nan.

"What?" she asked.

"Smoke cigarettes. I saw Danny have a pack."

Nan was much shocked, but she did not say anything. She was glad Bert did not smoke.

Bert went off with some boys to see if they could catch any fish in the deeper part of the brook, about half a mile from the picnic grove, and Nan, with one or two girls about her own age, took a little walk with Flossie and Freddie to gather some late wild flowers that grew on the side of one of the hills.

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108 They found a number of the blossoms, and were making pretty bouquets of them, when Freddie, who had gone on a little ahead of the rest, came running back so fast that he nearly rolled to the bottom of the hill, so fat and chubby was he.

"What's the matter? What is it?" asked Nan, catching her brother just in time.

"Up there!" he gasped. "It's up there! A great big black one!"

"A big black what—bug?" asked Nan, ready to laugh,

"No, a big black snake! I almost stepped on it."

"A snake! Oh, dear!" screamed the girls.

"Call Mr. Tetlow!" said Flossie. "He's got a book about snakes, and he'll know what to do."

"Come on!" cried Nellie Parks. "I'm going to run!"

"So am I!" added Grace Lavine. "Oh, it may chase us!"

In fright the children turned, Freddie looking back at the spot where he thought he had seen the snake.

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text: The Bobbsey Twins at School/Chapter 10

title: The Bobbsey Twins at School/Chapter 10


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stood for a moment, she hardly knew why. Perhaps she wanted to see the big snake of which Freddie spoke. It certainly was not because she liked reptiles.

Then she thought she saw something long and black wiggling toward her, and, with a little exclamation of fright, she, too, turned to follow the others. But, as she did so, she saw their dog Snap come running up the hill, barking and wagging his tail. He seemed to have lost the children for a moment and to be telling them how glad he was that he had found them again.

Straight up the hill, toward where Freddie had said the snake was, rushed Snap.

"Here! Come back! Don't go there!" cried Nan.

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110 "No, don't let him—he may be bitten!" added Flossie. "Come here, Snap!"

But Snap evidently did not want to mind. On up the hill he rushed, pausing now and then to dig in the earth. Nearer and nearer he came to where the little Bobbsey boy had said the snake was hiding in the grass and bushes.

"Oh, Snap! Snap!" cried Freddie. "Don't go there!" But Snap kept on, and Freddie, afraid lest his pet dog be bitten, caught up a stone and threw it at the place. His aim was pretty good, but instead of scaring away the snake, or driving back Snap, the fall of the stone only made Snap more eager to see what was there that his friends did not want him to get.

With a loud bark he rushed on, and the children, turning to look, saw something long and black, and seemingly wiggling, come toward them.

"Oh, the snake! The snake!" cried Nan.

"Run! Run!" shouted Grace.

"Come on!" exclaimed Nellie Parks, in loud tones.

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Rh "Freddie! Freddie!" called Flossie, afraid lest her little brother be bitten.

Snap rushed at the black thing so fiercely that he turned a somersault down the hill, and rolled over and over. But he did not mind this, and in an instant was up again. Once more he rushed at the black object, but the children did not watch to see what happened, for they were running away as fast as they could.

Then Freddie, anxious as to what would become of Snap if he fought a snake, looked back. He saw a strange sight. The dog had in his mouth the long, black thing, and was running with it toward the Bobbseys and their friends.

"Oh, Nan! Nan! Look! Look!" cried Freddie. "Snap has the snake! He's bringing it to us!"

"Oh, he mustn't do that!" shouted Nan. "It may bite him or us."

"Run! Run faster!" shrieked Grace.

But even though it was down hill the children could not run as fast as Snap, and he soon caught up to them. Running on a little

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 (a duplicate whereof I am to seale to the said Treasurer and Benchers of the Society of the Inner Temple) have sett my hand and scale this one and twentieth day of June one thousand six hundred eighty eight."


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112 way ahead he dropped the black thing. But instead of wiggling or trying to bite, it was very still.

"It—it's dead," said Nan. "Snap has killed it."

Freddie was braver now. He went closer.

"Why—why!" he exclaimed. "It isn't a snake at all! It's only an old black root of a tree, all twisted up like a snake! Look, Nan—Flossie!"

Taking courage, the girls went up to look. Snap stood over it, wagging his tail as proudly as though he had captured a real snake. As Freddie had said, it was only a tree root.

"But it did look a lot like a snake in the grass," said the little fellow.

"It must have," agreed Nan. "It looked like one even when Snap had it. But I'm glad it wasn't."

"So am I," spoke Grace, and Nellie made a like remark.

Snap frisked about, barking as though to ask praise for what he had done.

"He is a good dog," observed Freddie, hearing which the animal almost wagged his

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Rh tail off. "And if it had been a real snake he'd have gotten it; wouldn't you?" went on the little boy.

If barks meant anything, Snap said, with all his heart, that he certainly would—that not even a dozen snakes could frighten a big dog like him.

The children soon got over the little scare, and went back up the hill again to gather more flowers. Snap went with them this time, running about here and there.

"If there are any real snakes," said Freddie, "he'll scare them away. But I guess there aren't any."

"I hope not," said Nan, but she and the others kept a sharp lookout. However, there was no further fright for them, and soon, with their hands filled with blossoms the Bobbseys and the others went back to the main party.

Some of the teachers were arranging games with their pupils, and Nan, Flossie and Freddie joined in, having a good time. Then, when it was almost time to start for home, Mr. Tetlow blew loudly on a whistle he carried to call in the stragglers.

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114 "Where's Bert?" asked Flossie, looking about for her older brother.

"I guess he hasn't come back from fishing yet," said Nan. "Come, Flossie and Freddie, I have a little bit of lunch left, and you might as well eat it, so you won't be hungry on the way home."

The littler Bobbsey twins were glad enough to do this. Then they had to have a drink, and Nan went with them to the spring, carrying a glass tumbler she had brought.

"This isn't like our nice silver cup that the fat lady took in the train," said Freddie, as he passed the glass of water very carefully to Flossie.

"No," she said, after she had taken her drink. "I wonder if papa will ever get that back?"

"He said, the other day," remarked Nan, as she got some water for Freddie, "that he hadn't heard from the circus yet. But I think he will. It isn't like Snoop, our cat. We don't know where he is, but we're pretty sure the fat lady has the cup."

"Poor Snoop!" cried Freddie, as he

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Rh thought of the fine black cat. "Maybe some of the railroad men have him."

"Maybe," agreed Flossie.

When they got back to where the teachers and principal were, Bert and the boys who had gone fishing had returned. They had one or two small fish.

"I'm going to have mamma cook them for my supper," said Bert, proudly holding up those he had caught.

"They're too small—there won't be anything left of them after they're cleaned," said Nan, who was quite a little housekeeper.

"Oh, yes, there will," declared her brother, "I'm going fishing again to-morrow, and catch more."

Mr. Tetlow was going about among the teachers, asking if all their pupils were on hand, ready for the march back. Danny Rugg and some of his close friends were missing.

"They ought not to have gone off so far," said Mr. Tetlow, as he blew several times on the whistle. Soon Danny and the other boys were seen coming from a distant part of the

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116 grove. One of the boys, Harry White, looked very pale, and not at all well.

"What is the matter?" asked Mr. Tetlow, and he looked curiously at Danny and the others, and sniffed the air as though he smelled something.

"I—I guess I ate too many—apples," said Harry, in a faint voice. "We found an orchard, and"

"I told you not to go into orchards, and take fruit," said Mr. Tetlow, severely.

"The man said we could," remarked Danny, "We asked him."

"Then you should not have eaten so many," said Mr. Tetlow. "I can't see how ripe apples, which are the only kind there are this time of year—could make you ill unless you ate too many," and he looked at Danny and Harry sharply. But they did not answer.

The march home was not as joyful as the one to the grove had been, for most of the children were tired. But they all had had a fine time, and there were many requests of the teachers to have another picnic the next week.

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text:
Author:Alexander Balfour

Poetry

 * "To the Swallow preparing to emigrate" in Forget Me Not for 1827 (1826)
 * "The Dream" in Forget Me Not for 1827 (1826)
 * "Garden Rhymes" in Forget Me Not for 1827 (1826)
 * "To an Itinerant Musician. A Sonnet" in Forget Me Not for 1827 (1826)

title: Author:Alexander Balfour


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Rh "Oh, we can't have them every week, my dears," said Miss Franklin, who had charge of Flossie, Freddie and some others in the kindergarten Class. "Besides, it will soon be too cool to go out in the woods. In a little while we will have ice and snow, and Thanksgiving and Christmas."

"That will be better than picnics," said Freddie. "I'm going to have a new sled."

"I'm going to get a new doll, that can walk," declared Flossie, and then she and the others talked about the coming holidays.

At school several days in the following week little was talked of except the picnic, the snake scare from the old tree root, the catching of the fish, and the illness of Harry White, for that boy was quite sick by the time town was reached, and Mr. Tetlow called a carriage to send him home.

"And I can guess what made him sick, too," said Bert to Nan, privately.

"What?" she asked.

"Smoking cigarettes."

"How do you know?"

"Because when I and some of the other

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118 fellows were fishing we saw Danny and his crowd smoking in the woods. They offered us some, but we wouldn't take any. Harry said he was sick then, but Danny only laughed at him."

"That Danny Rugg is a bad boy," said Nan, severely. But she was soon to see how much meaner Danny could be.

Workmen had recently finished putting some new water pipes, and a place for the children to drink, in the school yard, and one morning, speaking to the whole school, Mr. Tetlow made a little speech, warning the children not to play with the faucets, and spray the water about, as some had done, in fun.

"Whoever is caught playing with the faucets in the yard after this will be severely punished," he said.

As it happened, Flossie and Freddie were not at school that day, Freddie having a slight sore throat. His mother kept him home, and Flossie would not go without him. So they did not hear the warning, and Bert and Nan did not think to tell the smaller children of it.

Two days later Freddie was well enough to

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Rh go back to class, and Flossie accompanied him. It was at the morning recess when, as Freddie went to get a drink at one of the new faucets, Danny saw him. A gleam of mischief came into the eyes of the school bully.

"Want to see the water squirt, Freddie?" asked Danny. "That's a new kind of faucet. It squirts awful far."

"Does it? " asked Freddie, innocently. "How do you make it?" He had no idea it was forbidden fun.

"Just put your thumb over the hole, and turn the water on," directed Danny. "You, too, Flossie. It won't hurt you."

Danny looked all around, thinking he was unobserved as he gave this bad advice. Naturally, Freddie and Flossie, being so young, suspected nothing. They covered the opening of the faucet with their thumbs, and turned on the water. It spurted in a fine spray, and they laughed in glee. That they wet each other did not matter.

Danny, seeing the success of his trick, walked off as he saw Mr. Tetlow coming. The Bobbsey twins were so intent on spurting

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120 the water that they did not observe the principal until he was close to them. Then they started as he called out sharply:

"Freddie! Flossie! Stop that! You know that it is forbidden! Go to my office at once and I will come and see you later. You will be punished for this!"

With tears in their eyes the little twins obeyed. They could not understand it.

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text: The Bobbsey Twins at School/Chapter 11

title: The Bobbsey Twins at School/Chapter 11


text: Author:Edward Turner Bennett

title: Author:Edward Turner Bennett


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these services to Venus Epipontia, the seaside Venus, and these studies in the art of dress, did much to distract his thoughts and mitigate his earlier miseries, it would be mere optimism to present Kipps as altogether happy. A vague dissatisfaction with life drifted about him and every now and again enveloped him like a sea fog. During these periods it was greyly evident that there was something, something vital in life, lacking. For no earthly reason that Kipps could discover, he was haunted by a suspicion that life was going wrong or had already gone wrong in some irrevocable way. The ripening self-consciousness of adolescence developed this into a clearly felt insufficiency. It was all very well to carry gloves, open doors, never say "Miss" to a girl, and walk "outside," but were there not other things, conceivably even deeper things, before the complete thing was attained? For example, certain matters of knowledge. He perceived great bogs of ignorance about him, fumbling traps, where other people, it was alleged, real gentlemen and ladies, for example, and

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CH. III the clergy, had knowledge and assurance, bogs which it was sometimes difficult to elude. A girl arrived in the millinery department who could, she said, speak French and German. She snubbed certain advances, and a realisation of inferiority blistered Kipps. But he tried to pass the thing off as a joke by saying, "Parlez-vous Francey," whenever he met her, and inducing the junior apprentice to say the same.

He even made some dim half-secret experiments towards remedying the deficiencies he suspected. He spent five shillings on five serial numbers of a Home Educator, and bought (and even thought of reading) a Shakespeare and a Bacon's "Advancement of Learning" and the poems of Herrick from a chap who was hard up. He battled with Shakespeare all one Sunday afternoon, and found the "English Literature" with which Mr. Woodrow had equipped him had vanished down some crack in his mind. He had no doubt it was very splendid stuff, but he couldn't quite make out what it was all about. There was an occult meaning, he knew, in literature, and he had forgotten it. Moreover, he discovered one day, while taunting the junior apprentice with ignorance, that his "rivers of England" had also slipped his memory, and he laboriously restored that fabric of rote learning: "Ty Wear Tees 'Umber.…"

I suppose some such phase of discontent is a normal thing in every adolescence. The ripening mind seeks something upon which its will may crystallise, upon which its discursive emotions, growing more

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66 with each year of life, may concentrate. For many, though not for all, it takes a religious direction, but in those particular years the mental atmosphere of Folkestone was exceptionally free from any revivalistic disturbance that might have reached Kipps' mental being. Sometimes they fall in love. I have known this uneasiness end in different cases in a vow to read one book (not a novel) every week, to read the Bible through in a year, to pass in the Honours division of the London Matriculation examination, to become an accomplished chemist, and never more to tell a lie. It led Kipps finally into Technical Education as we understand it in the south of England.

It was in the last year of his apprenticeship that he had pursued his researches after that missing qualification into the Folkestone Young Men's Association, where Mr. Chester Coote prevailed. Mr. Chester Coote was a young man of semi-independent means who inherited a share in a house agency, read Mrs. Humphry Ward, and took an interest in social work. He was a whitish-faced young man with a prominent nose, pale blue eyes, and a quivering quality in his voice. He was very active upon committees; he was very prominent and useful on all social occasions, in evidence upon platforms and upon all those semi-public occasions when the Great descend. He lived with an only sister. To Kipps and his kind in the Young Men's Association he read a stimulating paper on "Self-Help." He said it was the noblest of all our

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CH. III distinctive English characteristics, and he was very much down upon the "over-educated" Germans. At the close a young German hairdresser made a few commendatory remarks which developed somehow into an oration on Hanoverian politics. As he became excited he became guttural and obscure; the meeting sniggered cheerfully at such ridiculous English, and Kipps was so much amused that he forgot a private project to ask this Chester Coote how he might set about a little self-help on his own private account in such narrow margins of time as the System of Mr. Shalford spared him. But afterwards in the night-time it came to him again.

It was a few months later, and after his apprenticeship was over and Mr. Shalford had with depreciatory observations taken him on as an improver at twenty pounds a year, that this question was revived by a casual article on Technical Education in a morning paper that a commercial traveller had left behind him. It played the rôle of the word in season. Something in the nature of conversion, a faint sort of concentration of purpose, really occurred in him then. The article was written with penetrating vehemence, and it stimulated him to the pitch of inquiring about the local Science and Art Classes, and after he had told everybody in the shop about it and taken the advice of all who supported his desperate resolution, he joined. At first he attended the class in Freehand, that being the subject taught on early closing night; and he had already made some progress In that

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68 routine of reproducing freehand "copies" which for two generations had passed with English people for instruction in art, when the dates of the classes were changed. Thereby just as the March winds were blowing he was precipitated into the wood-carving class, and his mind diverted first to this useful and broadening pursuit, and then to its teacher.

The class in wood-carving was an extremely select class, conducted at that time by a young lady named Walshingham, and as this young lady was destined by fortune to teach Kipps a great deal more than wood carving, it will be well if the reader gets the picture of her correctly in mind. She was only a year or so older than he was; she had a pale, intellectual face, dark grey eyes, and black hair, which she wore over her forehead in an original and striking way that she had adopted from a picture by Rossetti in the South Kensington Museum. She was slender, so that without ungainliness she had an effect of being tall, and her hands were shapely and white when they came into contrast with hands much exercised in rolling and blocking. She dressed in those loose and pleasant forms and those soft and tempered shades that arose in England in the socialistic-æsthetic epoch and remain to this day among us as the badge of those who read Turgenev's novels, scorn current fiction, and think on higher planes. I think she was as beautiful

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CH. III as most beautiful people, and to Kipps she was altogether beautiful. She had, Kipps learnt, matriculated at London University, an astounding feat to his imagination; and the masterly way in which she demonstrated how to prod and worry honest pieces of wood into useless and unedifying patterns in relief extorted his utmost admiration.

At first, when Kipps had learnt he was to be taught by a "girl," he was inclined to resent it, the more so as Buggins had recently been very strong on the gross injustice of feminine employment.

"We have to keep wives," said Buggins (though as a matter of fact he did not keep even one), "and how are we to do it with a lot of girls coming in to take the work out of our mouths?"

Afterwards Kipps, in conjunction with Pierce, looked at it from another point of view, and thought it would be rather a "lark." Finally, when he saw her, and saw her teaching, and coming nearer to him with an impressive deliberation, he was breathless with awe and the quality of her dark, slender femininity.

The class consisted of two girls and a maiden lady of riper years, friends of Miss Walsingham's, and anxious rather to support her in an interesting experiment than to become really expert wood-carvers; an oldish young man with spectacles and a black beard, who never spoke to any one, and who was evidently too short-sighted to see his work as a whole; a small boy who was understood to have a "gift" for woodcarving; and a lodging-house keeper who "took

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70 classes" every winter, she told Mr. Kipps, as though they were a tonic, and "found they did her good." And occasionally Mr. Chester Coote—refined and gentlemanly—would come into the class, with or without papers, ostensibly on committee business, but in reality to talk to the less attractive one of the two girl students; and sometimes a brother of Miss Walshingham's, a slender, dark young man with a pale face, and fluctuating resemblances to the young Napoleon, would arrive just at the end of the class-time to see his sister home.

All these personages impressed Kipps with a sense of inferiority that in the case of Miss Walshingham became positively abysmal. The ideas and knowledge they appeared to have, their personal capacity and freedom, opened a new world to his imagination. These people came and went, with a sense of absolute assurance, against an overwhelming background of plaster casts, diagrams and tables, benches and a blackboard—a background that seemed to him to be saturated with recondite knowledge and the occult and jealously guarded tips and secrets that constitute Art and the Higher Life. They went home, he imagined, to homes where the piano was played with distinction and freedom, and books littered the tables, and foreign languages were habitually used. They had complicated meals, no doubt—with serviettes. They "knew etiquette," and how to avoid all the errors for which Kipps bought penny manuals, "What to Avoid," "Common Errors in Speaking,"

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CH. III and the like. He knew nothing about it all—nothing whatever; he was a creature of the outer darkness blinking in an unsuspected light.

He heard them speak easily and freely to one another of examinations, of books and paintings, of "last year's Academy"—a little contemptuously; and once, just at the end of the class-time, Mr. Chester Coote and young Walshingham and the two girls argued about something or other called, he fancied, "Vagner" or "Vargner"—they seemed to say it both ways—and which presently shaped itself more definitely as the name of a man who made up music. (Carshot and Buggins weren't in it with them.) Young Walshingham, it appeared, said something or other that was an "epigram," and they all applauded him. Kipps, I say, felt himself a creature of outer darkness, an inexcusable intruder in an altitudinous world. When the epigram happened, he first of all smiled, to pretend he understood, and instantly suppressed the smile to show he did not listen. Then he became extremely hot and uncomfortable, though nobody had noticed either phase.

It was clear his only chance of concealing his bottomless baseness was to hold his tongue, and meanwhile he chipped with earnest care, and abased his soul before the very shadow of Miss Walshingham. She used to come and direct and advise him, with, he felt, an effort to conceal the scorn she had for him; and, indeed, it is true that at first she thought of him chiefly as the clumsy young man with the red ears.

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72 And as soon as he emerged from the first effect of pure and awestricken humility—he was greatly helped to emerge from that condition to a perception of human equality by the need the lodging-house keeper was under to talk while she worked, and as she didn't like Miss Walshingham and her friends very much, and the young man with spectacles was deaf, she naturally talked to Kipps—he perceived that he was in a state of adoration for Miss Walshingham that it seemed almost a blasphemous familiarity to speak of us being in love.

This state, you must understand, had nothing to do with "flirting" or "spooning" and that superficial passion that flashes from eye to eye upon the leas and pier—absolutely nothing. That he knew from the first. Her rather pallid, intelligent young face, beneath those sombre clouds of hair, put her in a class apart; towards her the thought of "attentions" paled and vanished. To approach such a being, to perform sacrifices and to perish obviously for her, seemed the limit he might aspire to, he or any man. For if his love was abasement, at any rate it had this much of manliness, that it covered all his sex. It had not yet come to Kipps to acknowledge any man as his better in his heart of hearts. When one does that the game is played and one grows old indeed.

The rest of his sentimental interests vanished altogether in this great illumination. He meditated about her when he was blocking cretonne; her image was before his eyes at tea-time, and blotted out the more

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