The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 14, 1897, Page 25

{ THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, MARCH 14, 1897. 25 THESE MODELS HAUNT THE STUDIOS OF LORDON TOWN want a model?” ‘The question is not maddening when it is asked for the first time in the early morning before work has begun. It is almost with gentleness, with sympathy and regret that it is answered in the nega- tive. When it has been demanded three | times in critical moments the anxious | painter has descended to the lowest level of civility, but when for the fifth time— when genius burns and the band trem- bles over a peculiarly delicate problem— | there comes a bang at the door, lond and peremptory as a Sheriff’s knock, then it is with arage that defies description that | something between a snarl and a how! is | shouted into the face of the boid peti- | tioner without. The London models are of al! ages, ofall | ranks, of all sizss—actually of all colors. | There are ] and Armenians and Arabs | E;OSDON, March L—*Please, do you =) in all stages of faded and ragged gorgeous- | to his worn velvet cloak. Witha little | ness; there are Roman women with faces | that s t Limerick or Cork; thereisa small boy with a skin like black velvet, who says he is from Dahomey, and a tall girl, nis hated rival in popularity, who wears & headdress of yellow silk with ears | of corn and bedraggled red poppies, who claims to be from Sou’ Car’lina. The studios of this particular kind are peculiarly at the mercy of the passerby. There are no steps to climb, the lodge- | keeper and his wife in a little close den at | the brosd gate are the reverse of argus- eved. Two long rows of green doors with polished brass knockers are ar- ke a modern almshouse around ong and narrow courtyard, paved with | nken gray stones and ornamented by a rip of garden, a little ribbon of green. the lodge unchallenged it is only necessary to adopt an airof great haste and exp on of one who is already late for a positive engagement. On a day when the atmosphere could te t with a knife it oceurred to me that it | ht not be unprofitable to bring them in from the wet and chill air and to sketch them, one after the other; at least, they | could dry themselves at the studio fire | 1d fill the studio with the “steam from | :ked garments an | th which, bardly w tion, they are only too ready and glad to | honor you. Some of them are sometimes | F: ue, coarse caricatures, done by a| less hand; others are only absurd, and | pi a few are tragic. Accordingly, I removed a sign that I Was in no need of models. The first who turbed the silence of theimpossibly gloomy morning knocked sharply, like a postman. He was rather a short man, with his hat tilted on one side; with prominent, bold eyes and heavy brows and & small mustache, turned up at the e The tip of his nose looked sus- He wore a dirty tieand a piciously cold. crumpled collar, and his overcoat was n with ege and spattered with mud. | e carried a bundle under one arm and | s stiff as a soldier. OF Al Ages, Ranks, Stes and Golors, in Al Stages f Fiitiad for wear, his long black wig was attenu- ated in spots and looked worried, but at the first glance he might have stepped out of an old frame, and, with the costume, his expression had changed; the transpar- ent, if somewhat dirty, white frill made the color of his skin rich and dark; his large eyes under the shadow of those swarthy brows had a curious melancholy, and as he stood in the door, hesitating and awkward, he might have been a dethroned king in fear of a hidden enemy. I bin in a play once,” hesaid, standing T was King Jymes.” That as-ertion was probably the truth, for the costume wss tawdry, but correct, even | to the brass “toison d’or” he had attacbhed | encouragement he related his experiences. KING JYMES IT” looked- like a particularly disreputavle | “old Clo” men from Whitechapel or oreditch. He spoke in a sullen and us vo! { “I ‘ave & costoom,” he remarked. *‘I've | posed as King Jymes the Second !” He was much astonish essed to make a qu monoto d at the wish I sketch of him fled in and disap- room to ct o astonishing the inner m st could bave de herto e the man” I dismissed it on schoo! board came down and and otherwise, or he’d De blessed if he'd send 'em. to be stopped fipally. tning-change'’ | were r. sired. If 1 had had|had a wrathful feeling tiat his wife had any doubt that the ‘‘clothes |injured him in being unable to work most the | of the time, and his comment« were bra- His costume was rather the worse | tal and sordid. He was not a regular professional model, had had no softening effect upon his man- ners or morals, The next to knock was a toreador, but he was accompagied by an odor and adog; after him came en old man, with tooth- less gums and an air of great hilarity; then a woman knocked, a stout, respect- able looking, middle-aged dame, with three stout and respectable and entirely commonplace children, one of whom was 80 cross-eyed that he appeared to be try- ing “to look into his ear with his eye.” I found my psychological ardor diminish- ing very rapidly, and I groaned at the thought of the price I would pay for my temporary amiabiliry, The next caller was, however, distinctly interesting. She was a tall young woman with strange, deep eyes and masses of hair under a broad-brimmed hat of immense he only posed when he gets ont of a job. | proportions. ~She was rather well dressed He had & mother, bat the old girl was | and had a voice ana manner so quiet that dotty, and yes—hesitatingly—yes, he had a wife, yes, and kids. chorus girl when she wasn't in tne ospi- tal. The kids went to school—bad to go; He was started’ then and had His rem nor “savor ither carious | it seemed a kind of affectation. His wife was a | bhad a cosiume, a pale, gray flimsy affair, | with a little border of gold thread lace. | She came into the studio, after few mo- fined him | ments and it hardly needed her rather | carelessly uttered : She also “I've posed for Burpe- Jones in this and for many others” to ecognize the type. She was very slender | but not thin, and the long folds of her | sown exaggerated her height; her eyes, set deep in her head, were large and very | lizht and surrounded by rings of shadow; “King Jymes'’’ costume | her mouth was full and well modeled but | | at the Artist's Door. colorless, and the little glint of zold in the costume answered to the faint gold in her pale hair. Her head, with its high cheek- bones and long pointed chin, was setona neck as fong as the stem " of a flower, and she held it lowered and slightly on one side, as though it were heavy. She was inclined to Dde taciturn, but when she did speak her accent was re- fined, almost severe. Bhe answered every question, but offered no further informa- tion. It was incredible, but she was evi- dently obstinately averse to exposing her- self even to such obviously disinterested inquiries. 3 Yes, posing was tiresome; no, she was not very busy; yes, it was hard to go about in such very bad weather; yes, Burne-Jones was very interesting to pose for—she had not been there for some time; yes, he was very kind, but peculiar, shy and reserved, and not in the best of health; no, she had never met with any- thing but pleasant experiences; every one had always treated her with great consid- eration. “No,”’ with a faint, wintry smile, “she did not think. 7 shillings a day at all an exorbi.ant price. No, per- haps, very fregrently the poor artists did not make the .7 shiliings. No, she coula not pose for less.” B Exasperated by her reticence and sparred on by something anusual and a little con- temptuous in her manner I kept ber standing half an_hour longer, on the pre- and Ragged (orgeousness, They Appear tense ihat the first sketch was bad, and I asked no more questions. She stared toward the faint blur at the window, the lamplight intensified her palior, she looked like a spirit. She deparied like one, also, with her strangc eyes more than ever shadowed by her enormous:'hat, and 1 watched her pick her way among the sunken, wet stones; she walked well and lightly and never looked back. ‘I amused myself with theories, but was interrapted by another loud knock. This time there were two girls, both speaking at once, both loud, over-dressed, vulgar; one had heir all tortured into a thousand curls, and was elaborately **made up” ; theother ‘was a marvel of fashion, in a cheap way, an imitation sealskia cape, and a picture hat, with a rose under the brim; she looked up archly as she spoke. There was nothing new nor interestinz to be spider and waited for furiber victims. One came before I had time to renew my impressions of my late visitor with the pale eyes. She was Miss Hazel Linden, aged 11. There was nothing mysterious about Miss Linden, not even her accent, which was rich wita a fine, colloguial vigor. She bad posed for seven years, she informed me; she was a zreat favorite because she was 8o grycetul. She stood steadily in a pair of very com- prehensive feet and poked her umbrella jinto a crack in the floor. She was poorly gathered from .them, so Iretired like a | dressed and did not look prosperous, but ber face was full of animation; she had very large, shining black eyes and light hair anda a marvelous skin, as frest and as white as a lily. She was not troubled with ness and made nerself perfectly at home, chatteringall the time and nodaing at me with great good humor. My eye, yog pynt like Tadems,” she began. “I've posed for Tadema.” : This was a statement that struck me dumb. “I've posed for Watts, too, and Sir Fred'rick Lyeton.” My silence spurred her to further efforts. “I’ve posed for—for—Horchardson, and I've posed for—for Burgieton and 'Erkomer, and—well, I've posed for many & bartist, I'’ave.” “Did you ever pose for Holbein,” 1 asked, respectfully. “Yes,” she replied; “whenI wasa kid.” “Velasquez, too?” I suggested, insinu- atingly; “and Titian?” Her bright eves fixed on ms with sud- den suspicion, but as I continued to draw she replied bold “Yes; Mr. Tisching had a studio in 'Ol- land Park road, he had!” “Precisely. Now, how is it you are idle to-day?” “Well, Mr. Tucker ’as the hinfluenza, 50 I'm free.”” “But vou couldn’t come to-morrow, II suppose?”’ “Yes, I could!” promptly. “Could you come for the next two ‘weeks 2"’ b “Yes,” with increased cheerfulness. “But I thought you were so busy? What will Tadema and Herkomer and Velasquez do without you?” “Ho (gayly), I don’t care: they can come for me, they can, if they wants me. Will you tyke me for two weeks? What will you pye me?’ A red spot had appeared in either cheek. She bad put her two gloved hands to- gether and spoke in a quick, strained voice. There was something almost fiercely eager in ner expression. Her ra- pacity was so extraorainary that I an- swered rather brutally, with some dis- gust: “Noj; I wouldn’t haveany one who posed for Velasquez!"” Bhe looked at me with her big, soft eyes, suddenly suffused with tears, and was silent. After a moment she said almost inaudibly : “*Hi never posed for Mr. Belaskuss.” “Well, you did for ‘litian, and that’sas bad! To say nothing of Holbein and Herkome:r and the rest.” She was quite shaken at this rebuff and I began to feel sorry for the child. Her effrontery had been amusing and her at- titude boid and gay. Now she stood star- ing at mein utter dejection. Her bril- liant little falsehoods, that were as her stock in trade, had suddenly armed them- selves against her. She held her head up ina moment however, and put her lips together and her expression breathea hatred and defiance. Unconsciousiy I had set a trap for her and she walked in, and as she submitted with inward rage and outward courage I found my admiration and very sympathies enlisted for my cap- tive. “I’ll take you for four or five hours next Monday. If Ifind yoa pose well I'll tuke you for a week.” Bhe lookea at me with incredulous eyes and drew a long breath. E “All right!” she said, without adding a word of gratitude. ‘When the pose was over she spproached me. “My father is dead,” she said, “‘my mother sews herseli blind, I have five sis- ters and b:others younger than me. Most people laughs when 1 lies about the great hartists 1’ve posed for; but I'd lie a thou- sand vimes more; I'd fight and I'd steal, if 1 wasn’t afraid, to make money; I'd steal; yes, [ wounid!” The child was an old woman in a mo- ment, with a passionate little face, all lined and seamed with fear and dread and terror of the battle she faced as a rule with such a show of bravery. It occurred to me as she leit, protesting her joy and gratitade, that psychology was likely to be a more_absorbing study and a more expensive one than an artist could afford. I thought of the common- place types that had presented thems selves, the brate behind King Jymes, the woman behind the Burne-Jones angels, the martyred child behind probably half a dozen spirits of Joy or Peace or wood- nvmphs or mere school studies for which Hazel Linden had probably posed, with her inirepid little manner and ber beauti- ful eyes, shining in her bard lictle face and there passed through my mind some familiar lines: And truly T reiterate no thine’s smail. No lily-muffied bum or & summer by Eut finus scme couplin : with t No pebble at your foot tut pr..ves a sphere, No chaffinch vut impiies the cherubim. % ¥ * * Fari’s crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with G But only ile who sees takes off his shoe The rest sit round It aud pluck blackberries. Vax Dyck Brown YOUR VOICE CAN BE PICTURED Successful Result of Remarkable Experiments—Vibrations Tell ¥4 T is'now possible to have your voice {3 photographed. Practically the orly {4 thing which science cannot now suc- | (eed in producing a preture of is the soul. | however, cgu be outlined by | the camera as obviously as if the abserver | vere listening with all his might. The of the experiments along this line | r of physics at Columbiz jeze, have proved the statement with | which this article begins beyond the stadow of a doubt. it has long been be- | Jieved to be a possib but suceessful accomplishment has only been brought about by the most painstaking "experi- | ments extending over a long period. The photograph in this instance is that produced by picturing the result of the ations cauted by the voice. Eveiy vibrating body has a certain. keynote or pitch to which it vibrates. It will re-| spond to no other note. It is this fact which enables the construction of instru- ments, for the unfailing law of vibration malkes possible absolute certainty of calcu- lation. It 15 necessary in considering Professor Hallock’s discovery to bear this act constantly in mind. But for this .bsolute certainty science could not con- 10t experiments along this line with any guarantee of accuracy of result. The apparatus of Professor Hallock is very interesting and equaily simple. In the first place there is a series of hollow metallic spheres. Bach of these spheres differs in . Naturally, each vibrates vto a musical tone, ait different, Thereare | avgilable, as it were, all the different brations which go to make up a melody that pleeses the ears of great and small. Here then is the material and the next thing is to utilize it. Each of these bells, | or metallic spheres, has a small hole at one sida. Opposite this hole a membran- ous drymhead is placed. A lighted gas- jet is placed on the farther side of the drum. This arrangement is entirely toward the point of vibration. Therefore, when the air inside the ball is made to vibrate by the musical sound correspond- | ing to its tone pitch, the membrane also | vibrates. Here is the curious part of it. ‘The vibration is promptly communicated to the lighted gas-jet an ibe farther sige of the drumhead. The vibration causes the gas-jet to jump and therefore one | sound of the voice 1s registered in an ob- jective fashion. Of course, wkile it woula be very inter- esting, the mere photograph of a single vibration would be practically vaiueless from a-scientific standpoint. Professor \ Hallock has, however, utilized his method %n a manner that seems destined to prove of very great value. He arranges a series of these spueres, drumheads and lights'so that each one responds to the tone ofa musical scale. When the singer strikes C the C sphere vibrates, aud su on through the gamut. Thus it may be seea that the voice, the sounds that it means, become matters to be seen rather than Leard. In pies the ¢ a Strange Story fact a person who is totally deaf couid tetl, | accurate, not less professional than the with a little practice, just exactly what these gas-jets told in the way of music. It has been a very common and equally erro- neous expression, from time immemorial, that one had been to see the opera. Here- tofore it has only been possible to listen to music, but these experiments of Professor | Hallock will evidentiy render it possibl~ toreally see an opera and at the same time hear it. Tosce musical sounds is some- thing few people ever expected would bap- pen, but as has oiten occurred before, science has brought about the apparently impossible. As is well known to musicians and phys- iologists, the pitch of a tone depends on the number of vibrations, or the rapidity with which the sound waves follow each other. The loudness of a tone depends upon the extent, the volume of sound waves. Inthe human voice, the more powerful-the air-blast the greater is the extent of the vibrations. Hence the louder the sound, the more powerful must be the blast of air that produces it. There- fore itis plain to be seen that the more powerful the note or tone, the more no- ticeable will be the effect upon the lighted | gas-jet onthe farther side of the drum- head and spheres. The quality of any musical tone depends altogether upon the relative power of the fundamental tone and that of the over- tones or harmonics which accompany it. The less the fundamental tone is dis- turbed by over-tones, the ciearer and bet- ter is the quality of the voice. By means of Protessor Hallock's invention a singer may seat himself before the apparatus de- scribed and, while rendering a song, may judge by the flaring gas-jets exactly the range of his voice. In other words he can descry every note from the highest to the lowest, as each is sung. He also sees by means of the movement of the gae-jets what over-tonesare present, and by count- ing these and then compariug the length of the jump of the jet corresponding to the fundamental C with the length of tne jump of the jet corresponding to the over- tones, he manages (o gain an idea of the quality of his voice. The value of this invention to singers and to those whose profession it is to try voices is inestimable. Heretofore it has, of course, been possible for a person who was a judge of the singing voice and a thorough musician to determine in a measure whether or no the person who sought his opinion could really sing. It was the judgment formed by knowledge, taste and long experience which qualified the expert to give an acceptable opinion in the matter. When this opinion has been unfavorable the person wkose voice was tested has sometimes said that it was prejudice rather than a standard of merit which influenced their judge. The result of Professor Hallock’s experiments, it is betieved, will be this: The voice will receive what is practically a mechanical test; a test none the less | | estimate of the experienced musician woald indicate, but one that is absolutely infallible. The person Whose voice is tested with the Hallock apparatds can always have a photograph taken thereof, waich will show a power exactly in accordance with the facts. The possibility of photograph- ing the singer's yoice also ren‘ers it possi- ble to give photographic certificates of ex- cellence. One of these days it is likely to become as common a matter to see a pho- tograph of a person’s voice in a newspaper asitisof the face. Thusthe great sing- ers of the world can give ocular evidence of the power of their singing voices. When a new star appears in the operatic world, by means of the Hallock discoveries the public may become thoroughly famii- iarized with his or her singing powers be- fore they have heard t:.e voice. O doubt the stage offers greater op- portunities to young women of am- bition and talent than any other occupation open to their endeavors,” said | Fanny Davenport recently to a girl who, TAKING PICTURES OF MUSICAL SOUNDS BY MEANS OF THE CAMERA. Be Actresses like hundreds of her sex, has asked the actress the stereotyped question, ‘“What do you think about a woman studying to become an actress?” “But,” continued Miss Davenport, “no doubt the trials, troubles and disappointments are greater. In addition to ability, you must have pluck, perseverance and a nature in which pessimism is unknown. Then, to crown all, good health is an absolute requisite, for the public have but little sympathy, or even interest' in the artist who is obliged to be’but of the bill becauss she isill. What are you doing now?” The applicant said she was a writer, but she had never been very successiul, al- though several of her articles had ap- peared in prominent magazines. She was almost discouraged. “My dear little woman,” Davenport, ‘you say you are a writer and Teel discouraged. Now, do you knéw what—well, what Satdou went through befors he became famous? I'll'tell you. He was destined to be a physician by his parents. He tried and failed, but he wrote and wrote ‘and wrote. Not mediaval works, but sketches, little plays and more plays. He lived several years in an attic, taught school, yet he wrote without a ray of encouragement. At 28 he had his comedy, “La Taverne,”’ produced,- and it was hissed off the stage of the Odeon. ‘You know where he stands to-day. Well, be wasn’t discouraged. “Now, if youn feel that you cannot make the public dccept you as a writer, do you think you cdn make your way as an actress? You must choose for yourself. And another thing, Sardou, like Shakes pears, Dumas ‘and other cel¢brated authors, still has his tri charged against him as against them, and so you see that even success does not ‘bring peace, no matter what your abilities are. “Good-by. If you must act I wish you all the'success in the world. If you be- come &n author I hove you will achieve the ends deserved. But you must work, work, work."”” ‘With this parting admonition the young woman withdrew. Itis a fact that Mlle. Roussell, at one time an detressin the Theatre Framcais, accused the French dramatist of appro priating for ‘‘Gismonda’’ several scenes from a biblical drama, entitléd ““Judith,” owned by her. The case was'laid before the Society of Authors in Paris. It ap- pears that several years ago M. Sirdou obtained for Mlle. Roussell a, pension of 200 francs from the society, and when she calied to thank him for his kindness she re- minded him that he had promised to write a play for her. Sardou pleaded over- work and that he had been obliged to de- ciine manv offers. Then she spoke of “Judith” and asked him to arrange the play for the stage. Sardou g-n"? eva- sive reply and shortly afterw: Mille. Roussell sent him his seenario. said Miss: Plagiarism i YOUNG WOMEN AND THE STAGE iFanny Davenport's Advice to Young Women Who Aspire to claimed she recognized the scenery of the first act with slight ‘alteration, and that the love scene of the the third act was ‘“textually’’ in the new play. The final scene, she averred, was identical with hers, and the apotheosis in “Judith’” was nothing more nor less than the procession in “Gismonda.” In a caustic letter to Sardou she said: “Whether you take from righs or left the little pieces from which you generaily compose your marqueterie does not cone cern me, but to take the two principal seenes of my ‘Judith,” which I had en- trusted 10 you, is an act which I cannot qualify.” In an interview on the subject Sardou characterized the charge as simple mad« ness. ‘“Mlle. Roussell can say or writa what she chooses; it matters not to me.”” Asked fora reply, Sardou reflected for a moment and said, “You can say that Mr, ‘Sardou shrugged bis shoulders.” Greasing the Elephant. Twice a year the elephants and the rhi. noceros in the Central Park menacerie get a coating of neatsfoot oil, whica is thor. oughly rubbed in with the palm of the band. The oiling and the’ manipulation cleanss the skin, remove the dead skin and open .the pores, freshen tie animais up ‘and improve their health, and they seem to like the process. The oiling is done only in tBe spring and summer; if done in the winter the animals would be likely to take cold from it. The rbinoceros at the park isin good condition and lively, and raiber frisky for 80 biga’ brute, Sometimes. it steps about with a step that is very much like a danc- ing stepand likely to surprise one wha sees it for the first time and has been ac- customed 1o regard the rhinoceros as an animal always slow and Jumbering in its movements. . Wher the rhinoceros’ cage is cleaned out, which is done daily, the keeper first attracts the great creature 1o one side with a tempting mess of food. Then he slips 8. noose of rope over the animai’s norn und settles it dowa around the neck and makes the other end fast around a bar or two of the elephant’s cage adjoining. This is done to keep the rhin- oceros from pitching into the keeper if it should take a notion. The same precauntion is taken whea the rhinoceros is oiled. The elephants, how- ever kneel at the word of command. Itis { nat necessary to plant a ladder against them in order to reach the upper part of their sides in rubbing in the oil.—New York Sun. —————— It may not be generally known that there is cruelty inthe kespingof gold fish, Haif of such captives die from sheer want of rest. As fish have eyes so formed that they cannot endure the light, in a glass vessel they are in an entirely wrong place, as evident from the way in which they dash about, and go round and round unti] When ‘“‘Gismonda” was produced she | fairly worn out. e e———————— e e —————————S———