nical skill Mr. Stokowski probably excels Mr. Gabrilowitsch, who sometimes over-gesticulates; but Mr. Stokowski frequently verges perilously close to the exotic, the precious, the exaggerated, while one element of Mr. Gabrilowitsch's irresistible appeal is his complete candor and simplicity. Few if any other of our conductors, indeed, meet the demands as he does of the second of our definitions, while remaining so free from the limitations and the excesses suggested by the first and third. He is at the pole from the time-beaters, and while his regard for tone-quality as a means is evidenced by the remarkable gain in all his choirs since a year ago, he never makes luxury for the ear an end in itself. On the other hand, his remarkable plasticity of rhythm, his unfailing sense for the right adjustment of dynamics, in a word, his intuitive "musicalness," are never marred by the obtrusion of eccentricities or the exploitation of personality, but are dedicated to the realization of the composer's expression with the devotion of the true artist. In short, Ossip Gabrilowitsch may be ranked as a great conductor.
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AN EARLY JAPANESE ILLUSTRATED BOOK
THE earliest of Japanese book illustrations are Chinese in inspiration. Such are the wood cuts of the Butsu-y-wokio (the Ten Kings of Hell) published in 1582, the earliest known Japanese book with illustrations. The first illustrated book which pictured Japanese life is probably the Ise Monogatori published in 1598 (Von Seidlitz gives its date as 1608) with a reprint in 1610. The illustrations have been attributed to Koyetsu and to Sanroku. They are not strikingly individual in feeling but reflect the spirit of the age so that it is of but little moment who actually made the designs.
The edition of 1598 is one of the most beautiful of all illustrated books. The paper is a rough hand-made paper of many colors very close to the colors of the paper upon which Meryon printed the earliest prints of his etchings. There are pages almost white, others gray, others pink, but the most beautiful is perhaps the pale green which is almost the precise shade which Meryon used. The blocks and the printing, as the illustration shows, are the rough handicraft of men who despised neatness of execution. At that time artists were satisfied if they expressed an idea clearly, if they gave it life, force, character. A mind which delighted in delicacy of execution, in craft for its own sake, would have been most antipathetic to them.
We are beginning to appreciate that there is more art in the force of the primitives than in the polished inanities of a generation which has nothing to say. Some of us appreciate how killing to all art sense is the desire for technical perfection. The average picture-buyer still prefers the machine-made frame with tight corners to the more lovely hand-carved frame in which the corners are less mechanically perfect. Such picture-buyers will not find the illustrations of Ise Monogatori interesting. They will be annoyed at the technical defects. That is because they still enjoy art through the intellect not through intuition. They have not yet learned that art should appeal to a man's heart.
[The illustrations for this series of articles on Japanese prints are taken from examples in the Field-Laurent collection. In each case, unless otherwise stated, they are from the earliest known printing.—Editor.]
