MUSIC

the purport of the present article is not that of a catalogue raisonne of modern music; its intention is to put forward certain general principles that seem to have become more clearly manifested since 1910. any works and composers that are mentioned will be sclected merely as the first convenient iilustrations of these principles; and the convenience will be avowedly accidental. this method has, in the past history of criticism, always proved to give results far more interesting than those of an attempt to catalogue and estimate contemporary events and works; nor does the dearth of names and titles detract greatly from its interest. the greatest art takes ample time before its impulses reach the main stream of historic tendency, so that the contemporary view of the main stream is naturally, and not unjustifiably, preoccupied with work that will not interest posterity; while, on the other hand, future historians will, as often hitherto, have great difficulty in finding any historic importance in the works which prove immortal. but we are on solid ground if we fix our attention on prevalent tendencies shown by large bodies of work and of criticism, and on the conditions in which the work is produced and enjoyed. there are periods of artistic transition in which tendencies are too vague or too involved to be distinguished by the contempo- rary observer. if perhaps this was so in the beginning of the 2oth century, things had become clearer by its second decade; and it was possible to draw an emphatic distinction between what is real and what is unreal in the music of the day. i. introduction defects of contemporary criticism.—it will be convenient first to deal with the unrealities. the most formidable of these arise from the unnatural conditions on which the modern musician acquires his reputation. at no period in history has an artist been able to make his living solely by his highest line of work; but the hardships of the classical artist’s life were at all events not unnatural. they were average effects of human nature, and not of an inflated self-consciousness among art critics. it has always been hard to struggle against a depressing prevalence of dull or vulgar tastes and pedantic conventions; but such a struggle is life, and victory in it is health. far less certain is it that life and health can be found in the struggle for musical reputation under modern conditions; especially for reputation as a composer. the grounds on which new music is commonly criticised are no longer grounds of healthy and intelligible discussion. the critics, conscious of the proverbial persecution of genius by contemporary pedants and upholders of convention, are now unanimous in con- demning all that is under suspicion of being ‘‘ correct,’’ and are desperately anxious that no soi-disant revolutionary tendency shall miss acclamation and that no dangerous outbreak of normality shall escape damnation. the music that is most written about and talked about is the music about which it is the easiest to say clever things. the clever things must be or scem to be intelligible to the general reader; and this means that they must not be musical facts, for musical facts are involved in musical technicalities. yet the clever sayings must be im- pressive. the result is a special psychological jargon, mostly unknown to psychologists, which the general public believes to be a musical jargon. the public finds it fairly amusing, especially when the critics, having exhausted their stock of new musical discoveries and revolutions, are reduced to discussing each other. but it may be news to the public that the jargon is almost wholly unintelligible to real musicians, and nowhere more unintelligible to them than where it employs musical terms. meanwhile real music struggles into existence, and even occasionally into recognition, while fashion follows the journalists and awards fame without popularity ro times a year to musicians of perfectly respectable character and intellect who are driven to pose as lunatics lest sanity should earn them the reputation of music prigs. in such conditions it is not surprising that there is more genuine musical life in provincial districts than in the metropoli- tan cities. the musical life of the provinces is their own; the metropolitan public is so anxiously watching the jumping of the critical cat that even the formation of coteries is conditioned more by diplomacy than by enthusiasm. popularity and healthily good music are driven to meet on new ground. theatre music, apart from opera, is in great britain still in a state of squalor, which must remain hopeless as long as british theatregoers maintain the habit of drowning the musical ever’actes in talk. but the cinema produces a remarkably perfect silence in specta- tors, and in its not always fresh atmosphere many an excellent player finds a livelihood which he can ill afford to exchange for a good position in a permanent orchestra. the london music hall, especially since the advent of the great russian ballet dancers, has drawn into its sphere of influence many a serious musician, among composers as well as performers; and the composers to whom it is still a strange environment may some- times find that more than a pot-boiler impulse and technique are required of them if they are to distinguish themselves there. at all ages there have been heartsearchings as to the border lines of “ legitimate ”’ art, and the origins of the highest classical art forms have far more often been popular tendencies than criti- cal doctrines. the health and fruitfulness of permanently valu- able art demand two conditions: first, that artists shall have the inducement of a living wage for producing it; secondly, that audiences and spectators shall be accustomed to receive it so attentively as to induce the artist to refine his style. art does not thrive in a state of public opinion and critical jargon in which nothing is allowed a right to exist except works of devastating genius; and genius itself stands less chance of recognition in such a state than in any other. a good period of art 1s that in which the ordinary styles are so good that the sensibilities of a child of genius are not starved or disgusted by them before he has had time to outgrow them as a genius must. nothing good can be expected for genius or philistine from a state of art in which every style is ostentatiously paradoxical. between the fruitful and the unfruitful tendencies in contem- porary music, the questions at issue are not primarily matters of taste or tradition. it may be assumed that vital art has deep foundations of taste and tradition, even if 1t professes to revolt from them all; but the signs of its vitality are neither in revolt nor in conformity, but simply in the variety and the coherence of the art in itself. and the variety and coherence are matters of discoverable fact. principles which make for them are likely to be sound; principles which destroy them are, if correctly stated or imputed, certain to be unsound. we must, however, bear in mind that the creation of a work of art is an altogether different process from criticism and analysis. the craziest theory may be accepted by a composer as being his method of work, and it will do him not the slightest harm so long as it keeps his attention so poised that the depths of his mind are free to express themselves. but the same theory will be disastrous to most of his disciples, though some may share his luck with it. the classical art forms were not, in their origin and maturity, crazy theories, but shrewd generalisations from familiar experience. as that experience becomes remote the art forms lose their vitalising expressive power. but there is more vitality in remote experience than in none at all; and a mere arbitrary contradiction of old artistic theories is, one would think, the most obvious sterilising pro- cedure that could be devised for future art. ii. modern masters and their work scriabin’s harmonic system.—the procedure is seen at its worst when it is applied to some all-pervading category of music, such as harmony. whatever may be the merits or the fecundity of the composer, we may be absolutely certain that when he explicitly promulgates a new system of harmony he is talking nonsense. scriabin (1871~1915) began his career as a brilliant 2oth century chopin, with an unmistakable power of composition in large and free form, besides a happy vein in the tinicst of preludes. in time, certain harmonic mannerisms developed: ioo!i the composer was inspired to write for orchestra; his vigorous talent for composition not only stood the strain of this larger medium but remained traceable in works based each on some single artificial chord of which the original meaning is obviously a wagnerian progression, but which was expounded to the gasp- ing interviewer as the most perfect chord in music. and so the gasping interviewer went on his way rejoicing in the possession of a profound technical mystery worthy of revelation together with the composer’s theosophic doctrines and other matters of popular interest. there is no reason for doubting the composer’s sincerity either in his theosophy or in his harmony. artists are seldom also men of science, and even men of science keep some region of their minds in a state of holiday wherein they may be perfectly arbitrary and self-centred. art originates from such regions of the mind, but it will be stifled, and those regions will be starved, unless it emerges and forages in the wide world of human life. egocentric as is the nature of art, the confines of one personal life are not enough for sane self-development; and the personal note of the artist who retires into the recesses of his arbitrary domain will not long retain its power, the untimely death of scriabin left his art just at the point where it was beginning to alienate his enthusiastic supporters. contemporary enthusiasm and hostility on theories of harmonic style may be left to the theosophists. the important fact is that scriabin did, while he lived, produce compositions with a large flow and climax: nor do we know that his power to do so was likely to fail him. but the lesson of three harmonic revolutions, distributed over five centuries of musical history, is that wherever a composer becomes preoccupied with harmonic ideas his power of composition is in greater danger of dwindling than when his interests lie in other categories of his art. scriabin himself com- plained at last that all his harmonic efforts had not carried him essentially beyond the dominant seventh; and herein history repeats itself, for the complaint is substantially that with which philipp emanucl bach refuted the harmonic theories of rameau, saying to burney that he could conceive nothing more childish than this notion of the “ fundamental bass,’? inasmuch as it “ would reduce all music to a series of full closes.”” the truth is that all purely harmonic ideas first become intelligible by gravitating towards a full close; just as all verbal ideas gravitate towards the form of a subject, a predicate and a copula. nor do harmonic ideas escape their fate by being based on conceptions which deny the aesthetics of classical polyphony and attempt to treat chords as pure sensations without relation to the melodic progression of their individual notes. sooner or later the composer will awaken to their possible meaning in a poly- phonic scheme. thus walford davies has sealed the fate of the ‘‘ whole-toned scale ”’ (once believed to be the anti-polyphonic backbone of debussy’s art) by pointing out that it is not a scale at all but a chord, which, properly distributed in different octaves, can resolve in six enharmonically different ways, none of which have anything to do with the sceptical and mechanical train of thought which tries to base harmonic systems on the limitations of the equal-tempered pianoforte with its 12 semitones to the octave. it is not worth while attempting to catalogue the systems of harmony evolved at the pianoforte by composers who continue to imagine that chords can be built up in fourths or in other a priort ways as rhythmless and unmelodic entities. whatever the reader’s indignation at finding in this article no treatment of the dozens of harmonic and musico-metaphysical topics he hears of to-day, he may comfort himself with the certainty that nobody will have heard of most of them next year. one might as well discriminate between the fashions which dye the hair green and those which dye it blue. in all the chaos of recent experiment with discord and disor- dered rhythm, two questions alone are capable of permanently significant and truthful answers: the one concerns the composer and the other the listener. to the composer we may address brahms’ rude query, ‘‘ do you find this fun?” of the listener we may ask, “‘ can you find a sufficient variety of coherent definite elements, events, qualities and forms in this art, quite irrespective of any question of novelty?’ this question must [002 be answered with regard to all the elements of the art from the oldest to the newest, and it is one of the few sound artistic questions which concerns an artist’s whole output as well as individual works, ¢.g., whatever may be thought of scriabin’s last harmonic obsessions, his smallest preludes, early, middle or late, could not have been created by a composer who could do nothing else. it is an accident that his work made a new sensation: it is an essential fact that he is a composer. without the power of composition a new sensation cannot last, even if it can make its mark at all. with power of composition everything in art must some day find wide recognition, if it escapes physical destruction; for no composer attains such power without being driven by strong human impulses. epigrams are not enough. iluman experience vividly presented never loses point. stravinsky and the ballet—but the chances of producing permanently living work are heavily weighted against the com- poser if he concerns himself only with things which he alone can understand. the russian ballet gave abundant vital impulses to music so long as it dealt intelligibly with drama, fairy tale, fable and life; and the young stravinsky of l’oiseau de feu found in it inspiration for music that remains brilliant and intelligible apart from the ballet. in petrouchka he still makes rhythmic and instrumental sounds that faithfully follow and enhance the moods of a fascinating pantomime; but the concert-goer who, knowing nothing of the ballet, affects to be moved by the music in an orchestral concert, is little wiser than the man who would rather say he preferred the wrong end of his asparagus than admit that he did not know which was the right end. the ballet is to the composer an easier and therefore more dangerous art form than the opera; in both cases the listener will always give the music credit for all the qualities of the scenario if the com- poser only manages not to interfere with them. self-deception, loss of vitality, decadence and dry-rot set in when the designers of the ballet themselves retire into the arbitrary kingdom of abstractions which they call symbolic, and which common sense calls nonsense. there is a real kingdom of nonsense, and it will have none of your owlish aesthetic solemnity about morbid twists of mind. lewis carroll, trained logician, leaves it to later commentators to identify his snark with the absolute, or with the company promoter; his and edward lear's wonderland of nonsense is a school of manners in the light of which any explicit social satire and many fantastic flights of modern musical imagination appear almost equally convicted of grossness and heavy incongruity. for music, as for all arts, the fruitful path, and that which leads even to the sublime as well as the imperishable, is a path of unselfconscious childlike enjoyment of the matter in hand, with no petulant preoccupation with the stupidity of the outsider. erik satie is amusing enough with his vrates preludes flasques pour mon chien, his a percues desagreables, and all the rest of it; his works are announced with the challenge, as to les aplatis, les insignifiants and other more rabelaisian nonentities who will not enjoy them, “ gu’ils avalent leurs barbes! qwils se marchent sur le ventrel’”’ english patriotism cannot but feel flattered by this contrast with the perfect manners, perfect scholarship and perfect art with which holst has made a fairy tale of all the operatic styles in musical history in the perfect fool. gustav mahler —prominent among the eternal questions which agitate the contemporary critics of all arts at all periods is the proportion of means to ends. the modern orchestra grows easily with the demands of the modern composer, for, in spite of local and temporary difficulties, it is to the interest of players that orchestras should increase as well as multiply; but the most extravagant modern composer has never yet faced the problem of designing music for which the band and chorus of a crystal palace handel festival would really be to the purpose. in other words, the handel festival exists; but the music for an organisation of even half that size has never yet been composed. here, then, is material for a real aesthetic development; and herein lies the significance of the recent vogue in holland of the enormous works of gustav mahler. that great viennese or- chestral conductor died almost a generation ago, and his sym- music phonies owe much of their recognition to the personal zeal of their apostle, the eminent conductor mengelberg. it is improba- ble that the music-lovers of other countries will ever readily receive these huge volumes of naive sentimentality and boyish grotesqueness. but the works nevertheless demonstrate at least three vital things: first, that it is still possible for a composer to pile up structure of illimitable extent in the most unsophisticated harmonic and melodic style; secondly, that, whereas taste cannot even begin to express itself without some technique, an immense amount of technique may be learnt from work which cannot be said to show any taste at all; and thirdly, that whatever may be objected to mahler’s taste and form in this direction, he un- doubtedly fulfilled his set purpose of working out the pioneer aesthetic and technical principles of music designed for 1,000 performers and upwards. and this is no decadent proposition. decadence lies rather in the performance of classical music on a scale for which it was never remotely conceived. the real problems of music for 1,000 performers are, as mahler perceived, problems for a severely disciplined and accurate imagination; and nothing can be further removed from the world of arbitrary artistic egoism. they are not to be mastered by the methods of that kind of extravagance which now and then displays a revul- sion in some absurd economy, like meyerbeer’s old trick of thin and inadequate harmony for one voice supported insecurely by one horn anda spasmodic gurgle on a solo violoncello. with much of meyerbeer’s ‘‘ best-seller ” qualities, mahler nevertheless has none of meyerbeer’s worldly wisdom, and in his special field there is as yet no greater and more masterly idealist. in vocal music he often attains great beauty and purity of style. schenberg.—the main stream of music still flows within the wagner-strauss limits, and seldom requires 150 instrumental players. arnold schenberg’s gurre lieder (a large vocal and choral cycle, the great success of which is held by his disciples to be a serious hindrance to the spread of his later gospel of a priori harmonic revolution) requires a huge orchestra; but the very fact that the score often employs 50 staves proves that schenberg is by no means imagining the aesthetics of an unprecedented scale of performance; the polyphony that requires 50 staves for its notation implies detail rather than bulk. max reger and classicism—the life work of max reger presents a strange study of artistic vitality working on methods the reverse of vitalising. at first sight his productivity seems enormous; and since orlando di lasso in the 16th century we have had no other conspicuous instance of a composer who seems always able to sit down before a pile of blank music paper with a blank mind and work himself up into genuine inspiration by sheer interest in the weaving of rich musical texture. to the present generation of german musicians reger is the last of the classics; but there are few things in music less classical than reger’s art forms, rigidly orthodox though they seem. they are the direct result of extraordinary docility in the pupil of the most systematic musical scholar of recent times, and anyone who has groaned in spirit at the sight of one of hugo riemann’s editions of a piece of classical music may easily recognise in reger the traces of his teaching. every external feature of the classical art forms is present without any trace of the classical reasons for it. everything has been worked out from one detail to the next, without any first principles to account for the whole procedure. a facile contrapuntist, reger writes untold numbers of fugues, all on one mechanical plan, mostly with some combination of subjects, but never a combination between subjects sufficiently contrasted to give it point. his instrumental works are for the most part cast in sonata forms; except for the incessantly modulating and chromatic style, the whole collection of works contains neither an unorthodox procedure nor the slightest reason for its orthodox procedures. bach wrote great works for unaccompanied violin, and reger does likewise. but he shows no sense of the principle that bach’s unaccompanied melody is its own bass; reger’s melodies cry loudly and ambiguously for harmonic support. you might as well cut out with scissors a full-face portrait of a judge in his wig and expect it to be recog- nisable as a silhouette. music whatever is to be learnt from reger, it is not the meaning of classical art forms. and much is to be learnt from reger. his texture is inevitably thick, for his rigidly systematic complete- ness vetoes that suggestiveness which is one of the secrets of the greatest art. but it is astonishingly sonorous, and, in its heavy literal-minded way, effects its purpose in the fewest possible notes, numerous though they be. every instrument is profoundly studied and developed on the basis of its natural technique; and while the player who claims that he can read reger at sight is probably mendacious, he will enjoy his instrument all the better for playing reger well. nor is this the only or the most important non-egotistic reality in reger’s work. the reality of reger is that he is a consummate and impassioned rhetorician. his unreal art forms hinder and help him no more and no less than the alpha- betical acrostic hindered and helped the poct of the lamentations of jeremiah. he extemporises on paper, and is profoundly attentive to the nature of his instruments and to whatever text he is setting in his vocal music. in the history of art there can be no more conspicuous example of the difference bet ween analyt- ical theory and the practical conditions of creative work. bantock, holst and boughton.—the only things that matter to the composer and to his posterity are the things that help or hinder him in creating his works. posterity will not inquire whether sebastian bach, granville bantock, richard strauss, bu- soni—whosoever you will—were reactionaries or revolutionaries, whether they followed classical forms, misunderstood them or abolished them. nor will posterity pay any attention to the questions we so often ask as to whether such and such a com- poser’s work has led to further developments or hindered them. this is a totally different question from that which is often con- fused with it, the question whether certain principles (such as a revolutionary but disciplinarian theory of harmony) do or do not interfere with m composer’s capacity to write coherent and fluent works. on the sane musician the effect of the achievements of wagner or strauss is to enlarge his ideas of the range of his art. he is not obliged to cover that whole range himself; and the musician who, not being wagner or strauss, dooms himself to failure by working on their huge scale with inadequate resources, does not thereby show that his artistic balance would lead him to better success on a smaller scale. all great art may be accused of “‘ leading to a blind alley,”’ inasmuch as its achievements are always individual and unique. yet every achievement that lives (and many live, like the works of domenico scarlatti and couperin, that cannot well be called great) is a source of inspira- tion to right-minded artists. it is not a matter of taste; nor need it be an incitement to handle any particular art form or to imitate the style that has inspired the artist with correggio’s conviction ‘‘ anch’io son pittorel’”’? it would be difficult, for instance, to name any composer whose style shows the influence of granville bantock; just as it is difficult to trace in his style, otherwise than by merely technical measurements, the intluence of strauss and of the schematic purity and brilliance of russian orchestration. yet there is probably nowhere in europe a more radiant source of musical health. another striking example of artistic vitality commands atten- tion in the work of gustav ilolst, an english composer whose interest in oriental subjects is (like bantock’s) no whim for chinoiseries but a true expression of the nostalgia of the west for the east. in every dircction his work is masterly, independent and indisputably real. savtirt is an oriental opera written with the slenderest of instrumental resources and with much singing that is not only unaccompanied but unharmonised. holst has also produced beautiful songs for the strange combination of a solo voice accompanied only by a violin. at the other end of the scale we have his orchestral work the planets, in which he shows his full musical freedom. probably the work in which his design most accurately and tersely fills its space is his setting of the sublime ancient byzantine hymn of jesus. here the music seems indistinguishable from the text; and its primitive and drastic harmonic logic, which technically could not have been written before the time of debussy and ravel, is no more suggestive of the fashions of to-day, or of any day, 1003 than the awe-inspiring eucharistic text which reverberates through it. no modern music is more utterly unsuggestive of outward and technical resemblance to the classics, and none rests on deeper foundations of musical scholarship. among the most significant signs of life in english music we must mention rutland boughton’s remarkable musical festivals at glastonbury, where (until interrupted by the world war) he produced english opera on a small scale, ranging from purcell to his own and other contemporary works, several of which have since become famous. strauss’s later work.—it is easy to ask what effect the world war has produced on music. the wisest answer is negative. the ascertainable effects of the war upon the arts are blankly destructive. few, if any, of the works written avowedly to commemorate the war can possibly succeed in meaning what they say o? saying what they mean. and of the losses to music, who shall discriminate between the talents that had been given time just to reveal their promise and those that were cut off yet sooner? what now of russia, where in 1921 world-famous com- posers were living in starvation without even paper to write on? if any musical work is destined to impress posterity as a noble expression and reaction of the world war, the choice might fall on richard strauss’ die frau ohne schatten. wis al pen-sinfonre, which, designed before the war, appeared in 1915, was a great disappointment, amiably commonplace in “ programme ” and sentiment, and hardly more than automatic in its characteristic ‘* road-hog ”’ technique. as regards dic frau ohne schatten, the style of richard strauss is no longer a new sensation, and it cannot be easily proved to be less automatic here than it is in the -a/pen-sinfonte. the inten- tion of the work as a whole must be ascribed to the poet hof- mannsthal; but this does not minimise the importance of what strauss can achieve at the height of his power and inspiration. his mastery of composition and texture has never been seriously in dispute, whatever exception may have been taken to the ex- tremes and licences of his style; and as the poet’s intention 1s noble, the composer has made its realisation vivid as no one else could imagine. from the twilight of roth century and recent erotic art, and from its always selfish and sometimes abnormal sexual preoccupations, die frau ohne schatten breaks away, and its plea for love is nature’s plea for life. musically it is, more copiously than any of strauss’ former works, an occasion for beauty; as a dramatic spectacle it is a gorgeous fantastic panto- mime, of which the allegorical meaning leaves it hardly less child- like than die zauberflete, which it in some points intentionally resembles. it is altogether a noble and heroic work, unassailable by any cavil that does not condemn itself as ignoble. iii. the future of music a new pianoforte—in the early summer of 1921 a new kind of double keyboard for pianofortes, invented by the eminent hungarian composer emanuel medor, and manufactured by messrs. schmitt-flohr of berne, was demonstrated in berne to large audiences. two things stand in the way of its development as the most important invention in musical instruments since the pianoforte itself; first the commercial difficulty in promoting an improvement that cannot be simply added as an extra apparatus to an existing pianoforte; and secondly, the tendency to expound it as a device that makes existing feats of pianoforte technique nugatory, a policy which mercly infuriates the piano- forte virtuoso. the real importance of the invention lies in its entirely new resources. the principle is simple and might just as well have been discovered when the pianoforte was first in- vented: in which case mozart’s pianoforte-technique would have begun considerably beyond the point where beethoven’s now leaves off. two manuals are placed, the one so slightly raised above the other that a perfect /egato in rapid passages is obtain- able between them by one hand. the second manual is an octave higher than the first. thus the normal stretch of one hand is two octaves instead of one; and with the cultivation of a new sect of movements of the hand, backwards and forwards as well as laterally, the possibilities of pianoforte-writing already seem 1004 limited only by pure musical aesthetics. but this is not all; the two manuals can be coupled together by,a pedal, so that the instrument possesses much of the property of the organ and also of the harpsichord, in the power of doubling a whole mass of harmony or any part thereof in “ four-foot tone.”” the restora- tion of harpsichord effects is completed by a lever which operates a kind of sordine, producing a somewhat crudely generalised harpsichord tone which later improvement may make very valuable. there is a vast new technique awaiting long study and explora- tion; but the merest rudiments of it produce astonishing results in a short time, for the pianist who gave the first public demon- stration did so within six days of setting eyes on the instrument. doubtless it will develop its own vices as well as resources, but it begins by depriving pianists of occasion for four-fifths of their worst habits, and sets a premium upon a bach-like and mozart- like cultivation of polyphonic cantubtle. many composers use the pianoforte in the act of composition far more than they are willing to admit. they know it to be a bad habit, because it tends to cramp their invention in two directions: it confines phrasing to the obvious sequences that muscular memory best grasps, and it confines part-writing to the compass and con- venience of the hands. the second limitation is now removed, and those composers who suffer from “ pianistic ’ habits may learn from it a greater freedom in their writing for other instru- ments and for orchestra. thus there is no region of music un- related to emanucl meor’s duplex coupler pianoforte, and this instrument should become a very important source of interest and inspiration in the music of the future. wireless and the future —the development of wireless broad- casting is effecting, in music as in other matters of entertainment and education, changes which only future generations will be able to estimate. the industrial revolution it will create in the lives of musicians will need wise guidance if it is to be beneficial to music. .the function of the large orchestra in the public hall will never become obsolete, for the sounds that reach the ear from the cdlispersa) sources of an orchestra have an acoustic perspective which no improvement in “ loud-speakers ’’ can impart to a transmitter or phonographic recorder which emits all sounds from one place. the simple experiment of putting the hands around the ears while listening to an orchestra in a concert-room will convince the listener that a “‘ gramophone effect ” is little more than the result of cutting off the waves that reach the ear from other than frontal directions. apart from the improvements of technique that are rapidly making the transmission of timbre and balance of tone more satisfactory, the development of “ wireless ”’ music is already arousing millions to attention without arousing the inhibitions and excitements of crowd-psychology. the very defects of transmission are stimulating pianists (whose instru- ment suffers thereby more than most) to the study and broad- casting of intimate early keyboard music in which the plain melodic and polyphonic sense demands almost nothing from the special character of the instrument, but appeals to fireside audi- ences who would find it unintelligibly thin in the concert-room. moreover, a new fact in musical aesthetics is the extraordinary beauty of microphonically magnified tones of very faint instru- ments, such as the clavichord. ; we may be nearer than we think to a still more subversive revolution by means of the microscopic study of the wave-lines of phonographic records. there is nothing to prevent the possi- bility of producing music directly in terms of those lines. the limitations of music so produced would no longer be those of instruments, but would be determined solely by the precision with which it may become possible to model any sound-wave re- quired. the composer will imagine and prescribe any producible timbre at any pitch he pleases, and will perhaps have no more to do with the craftsman who models the phonographic wave- lines than the violinist has to do with stradivarius. the crudest beginnings of this new art will be of enormous importance, but its highest development will still leave the human handling of instruments supreme as the inexhaustible source of musical inspiration. musical comedy biibliography.—h. f. chorley, the national music of the world (1911); o. keller, i//ustrierte geschichte der mustk (1911); h. c. colles, the growth of music (1912, etc.); w. j. henderson, the story of music (1912); d. f. tovey, german muste (1915); d. g. mason, ed., zhe art of music, 14 vol. (1915); sir c. w. stanford and c. forsyth, l lfrstory of music (1916); d. g. mason, contemporary composers (1918); ix. r. w. heyman, the relation of ultramodern fo archaic music (1921); c. nef, geschichie der sinfonie und suite (1921); a. w, pollitt, the enjoyment ef muste (1921); g. j. aubrey, la musique et les natrons (1922); r. lach, zur geschichte des musi- ralischen zunftwesens (1923); h. lambert, jfodern british com- posers (1923); r. h. myers, modern amfustc (1923); c. gray, a survey of contemporary music (1924); e. walker, lzistory of music tn lengland (1924); w. 5s. pratt, ed., the new encyclopedia of music and musicians (1924); sir w. h. hadow, afuszc (1925); j. hol- brooke, contemporary british composers (1925); a. weissmann, the problems of modern music (1925); e. wray, a skeleton ilistory of muste (1925). (d. f. t.) musical comedy (sce 8.533).—although musical comedy is one of the most popular entertainments of the english-speaking races, it has always been passed over by writers on music as too unimportant for discussion, and books of reference have hither- to maintained a curious silence on its origin and character. yet musical comedy and its off-shoot, revue, occupy a distinct place in the history of the modern theatre. character and origins what is musical comedy, and what is its line of descent from the recognised forms of light opera? clearly it bears no relation to the classical opera buffa of italy. that had no spoken dialogue and its place was taken by recitativo secco, a formal and rhetorical delivery of the words, supported by the lightest accompaniment. mozart’s figaro and rossini’s i/ barbtereare good examples of opera buffa. nor has musical comedy any real connection with the german singspiel except that spoken dialogue was used instead of recitativo secco. in france the singspiel developed into opera comigue. but the french comic opera was not neces- sarily comic, but was so called merely to differentiate it from grand opera. it was not considered necessary, indeed, that an opera comigue should include a single comic scene or character, but whatever the style of its drama might be, its dialogue had to be spoken. since the dawn of the roth century opera comique has been a favourite form of composition with french musicians, but one may look to the popularity of the vaudeville, after the french revolution, as being a more direct ancestor of modern musical comedy as far as the style of the play was concerned. but the vaudeville was written in verse, and musical comedy employs only lyrics for musical setting, the play itself being carried on by spoken dialogue. a much closer analogy is to be found in the french opera bouffe, which is not in any way akin to the italian opera buffa. in the former, spoken dialogue alternates with light music, and in the play itself there were generally topical or satirical allu- sions. it was a kind of opera comigue in little. from the ofera bouffe and vaudeville sprang the operetta: at first, as its name implies, a short opera of one act which was employed to lengthen the evening’s entertainment. gilbert and sullivan practically founded their operas on the operetta and opera bouffe, but, ex- cept at first, they cast them into two acts of sufficient length to fill the bill. | on its formal side, the english ballad opera may be con- sidered one of the models for musical comedy. sentimental songs are introduced with the same irrelevance. the english ballad operas came into being as a protest against the itahan operas of the 18th century. the english works were even com- posed in the italian manner, recifativos taking the place of dia- logue. but they did not have much success until gay wrote the beggar's opera, for which dr. pepusch adapted the best english and scottish melodies that could be discovered. the opera had a great success in 1728, and when a modern version of it was produced at the lyric, hammersmith, in 1920, it ran for 1,463 continuous performances, being beaten only by char/ey’s aunt (1,466) and chu chin chow (2,238). the beggar’s opera was afterwards revived and did well. the success of the beg- gar’s opera led to the production of polly at the kingsway musical theatre (1922) and of the duenna (1924). this revival of interest in ballad operas suggests that this typically english form of musical entertainment may have a future. a revival of isaac bickerstaff’s lionel and clarissa at the hammersmith lyric theatre in oct. 1925, proved fairly popular. all these 18th-century ballad operas have been retouched and to some extent modernised, but the work has been done so well that they have not lost their antique character. but neither they nor the gilbert and sullivan operas have anything in common with musical comedy. their popularity is evidence, however, that there is a large public interested in music of a light character. the genre of musical comedy, then, is in direct descent from the opera bouffe and the vaudeville of the french combined with our own ballad opcras. but it must be remembered that in very few instances is one form of art purposely modelled on what has gone before. makers of musical comedy have not been at pains to imitate and adapt to present needs former works of light music. sir arthur sullivan is, perhaps, an exception, for the earlier examples of the savoy operas do show that he had taken the french operetta as his model. musical comedy, as it is known in london and new york, is an expression of a love of boisterous and farcical humour rather than of the high comedy of the operetta. in its present form it is peculiarly an expression of the english-speaking races. its humour is broader, more farcical and more eccentric than anything to be found in light french or viennese opera, and the student will find curious evidence of this in the change which french or viennese light operas undergo when adapted to the british or american stage as musical comedies. andre messager’s veronique, for instance, was first performed in london by a french company (1903) as a light opera. when it was produced, shortly afterwards, in an english version, the comedy part of the florist was developed by mr. george graves into an eccentric low comedian. this had the effect of changing the character of the piece, although, of course, the original music remained. much the same change had happened to the viennese light operas which, from 1910 almost to the present day, gradually ousted english musical comedy from the london and new york stage. the public patronises musical comedy because it is fond of music, and it soon became fascinated by the finish and skilfulness of the compositions by oscar straus, leo fall, jean gilbert and franz lehar. but to all the light operas of those composers the farce of recognised musical comedy had to be added. this is a relic of the old-fashioned gaiety burlesque. those burlesques were more in the nature of what afterwards came to be known as revwe in london and new york than of the musical comedy with a plot and sentimental scenes. gradually the gaiety burlesque developed into the gaiety musical comedy, the music written by lionel monckton, howard talbot, ivan caryll, paul a. rubens and others. these musical comedies always contained big parts for the low comedians, and in the second half of the entertainment the plot was held in abeyance while the low comedy was developed. the gradual popularity of viennese light opera, adapted to the london stage as musical comedy, with big parts for the low comedians, swept all before it down to 1914. the plots of the foreign light operas gave better opportunities for sentimental scenes and their composers were able, by superior musicianship, to make the best of their ideas through clever orchestration and skilful ensembles. oc- casionally light musical pieces which are neither light operas nor musical comedies are produced on the london american stage. the british maid of the af ountains (1917) is but described as romantic melodrama combined with musical comedy. lilac time, first produced in america as blossem time (1921), is a light opera founded on schubert’s songs and instrumental pieces. such pieces are, however, exceptional. the rise of revue musical comedy for some years suffered severely from the rivalry of the revue. in paris the revue had a special character of social satire and topical interest. very few attempts have been made to acclimatise the french revue to the london stage, comedy the most successful being mr. c. b. cochran's series of intimate revues, beginning with odds & finds in oct. 1914, at the am- bassadors ‘theatre. the revue, as we have known it, has been a melange of songs, sketches, low comedy, ballets and pageants strung together without any apparent aim. many of them have begun with a satirical idea, but the satire has never been carried out. the secret of making a successful revue is known only to those who achieve success. it appears to be based, however, on an instinctive sense of contrast between the different “ turns ”’ of the entertainment. it is often stated that the haphazard style of disconnected “turns ’’ was sympathetic to the war-mind. that may be a reason for the popularity of the revue during the world war and immediately afterwards, but it must be pointed out that this form of entertainment had become popular at least a couple of years before the war. mr. george grossmith, who had taken such a large part in the gaiety musical comedies, was the first to adapt the revue from france. in ro10 he had made a great success in paris in a folies-bergeres revue with /p-i-addy-t-ay from one of the gaiety pieces. in oct. 1912, he produced the first english revue at the alhambra. it was entitled aall thai fly, and the music was written by melville j. gideon. this was followed at the same theatre in may 1913 by eightpence a mile. in nov. 1912, we find that a specimen of the new entertainment, from broadway to paris, had found its way to the new york stage. jong before the war, the revue was scriously affecting musical comedy in london. soon after war broke out it became even more the staple musical entertainment in london, for the reason that all the most successful composers of musical comedy were enemies and their works were no longer performed on the stage. mr. george edwardes was interned in germany and could not exercise direct control of the adelphi and gaiety theatres. by the end of 1914 only two musical comedies were to be seen in london: .a country girl at daly’s theatre, and the earl and the girl at the lyric theatre. revues became more and more spectacular, and gradually the best of these entertain- ments included ballets and pageants of great beauty. ina sense, that type of revue was a throw-back to the masque. with the popularity of revue, syncopated or “‘ jazz’ music found its way to the stage from the variety halls. i'rom revue it gradually crept into musical comedy, and the long continuance of the war, which automatically put an end to the domination of the viennese school of musical comedy or light opera, gave this modern musical fashion full scope. yow far foreign musical comedy had gradually come to dom- inate our stage may be seen from the following list of the prin- cipal musical comedies produced in london and new york from 1910 to a few years after the outbreak of the war. the nation- ality of the composer is placed in brackets, but it must be remem- bered that in all cases the musical plays were very freely adapted for the countries in which they were performed. but however much low comedy may be imported into them, a foreign musical comedy always retains something of its original character. it is impossible to mistake a musical comedy by leo fall for one by cuvilier, although in every respect the “ book ” and char- acters may have been anglicised or americanised. the following list is not, of course, exhaustive, but it is suffi- ciently complete to show the different fashions of pre-war musical comedy. 1005 lonpon: the balkan princess (british), the girl ¢n the trai (viennese), the chocolate soldier (viennese), the ouaker girl (british). new yorrk: the arcadians (british), the girl in the taxi (viennese), king of cadonia (british), afadame sherry (american), our miss gibbs (british). lonxvon: peggy (british), the mousme (british), night- birds (adaptation of johann strauss’s dze fledermaus (viennese), new york: the slim princess (british), the balkan princess (british), a country girl (british, revival), the dollar princess (viennese), girl of afy dreams (american), gypsy love (viennese), the kiss waits (viennese), little boy blue (german, original title lord piccolo), the quaker girl (british). i9io. igir, 1006 1912. lonpon: princess caprice (viennese), gipsy love (viennese), the girl in the taxt (viennese), the dancing aftstress (british), the sunshine girl (british). new york: the count of luxembourg (viennese), the merry countess (viennese, die fledermaus), oh, oh, delphine (british-american), peggy (british), the wedding trip (american), the charzey girl (american), tantalising tommy (viennese), lonpbon: the pearl girl (british), the girl from utah (british), the girl on the film (german), the laughing ffusband (german), the marriage market (viennese), oh, oh, delphine (british-american). new york: sweetheart (american), the american mfaid (american), the beggar sindent (german), the doll girl (viennese), lieber augustin (german), the marriage market (viennese), sunshine girl (british). lonpon: a country girl (british), the earl and the girl (british), phe cinema star (viennese), toy ride lady (viennese), af'selle tra-la-la (viennese). new york: the belle of bond street (british), the girl from utah (british), the girl on the film (german), the only girl (american). london: the only girl (american), betty (british), to- night's the night (british, founded on the pink domino), revivals of floradora, veronique, the arcadians, chinese ltoneymoon, the dairy maids and the girl in the taxt, big spectacular revues, produced by albert de cour- ville and wal. pink. new york: princess put (american), alone at last (ger- man), the blue paradise (viennese), to-night's the night (british), watch your siep (american jazz musical comedy), several big american revues. loxpon: chu chin chow (british), high jinks (british adaptation of french farce les dragees d'itercule, music by various british composers and rudolph friml), the lappy day (british), mr. manhattan (british), my lady frayle (british). at end of the year no fewer than 9 theatres were devoted to revue and only 3 to musical comedy. new york: betty (british), follew amfe (american), the girl from brazil (german-american), katinka (viennese), miss springtime (german), siep this way (american), very good, eddie (american). london: the maid of the mountains (british), the boy (british), the beauty spot (british). new york: canary cottage (american), chu chin chow (british), leave ff to jane (american), may-time (ger- man), oh, boy (american). lonpon: the lilac domine (french), going up (american), yes, uncle (american), very good, eddie (american). new york: the grass widow (american), going up (amer- ican), the maid of the mountains (british), oh, lady, lady (american), of, my dear (american), the rainbow girl (american). lonpon: who's hooper? (british), baby bunting (british), ilis lite widows (american), afgar (french), afonsieur beaucaire (french), revival of gilbert and sullivan's operas. new york: the royal vagabond (german-american), apple blossoms (viennese), good morning, judge (the boy, british), la, fa, lucille (american). a number of other musical comedies of american origin were pro- duced. 1913. i9t4. 1915. 1916. iqt7. 1918. 1919. it will be seen from the foregoing list that after 1914 the stage had to rely for the most part on british and american musical comedies, until peace was declared, but towards the end of the war some works of enemy origin were produced. one of the most successful of these american musical comedies was t[rene, produced at the empire theatre in 1920. there has been no great change in the type of musical comedy since the war, except that towards the end of 1925 american musical comedies, (of which no no nanette, mercenary mary and rose murte are the chief examples) with their efficient production and lively syn- copated music, gradually took the place of british musical comedies. in paris, the home of revue, the musical comedy of the english- speaking races was always an alien form of entertainment. the differences between the operetta and opera bouffe and musical comedy are slight, but nevertheless very real. they consist partly of the kind of sentiment expressed, of the general char- acter of the music, and, especially, of the type of humour. the light opera of the modern viennese school, when adapted as american or british musical comedy, had, and, to some extent, still has a vogue in paris, but even before the war parisians had musical instruments, mechanical grown tired of it, and during and since the war it has never regained the popularity it once had. (e. a. b.) musical instruments, mechanical.—in the history of mechanical musical instruments the years rgro—26 are signifi- cant chielly because of the remarkable advance made in repro- ducing the touch of the human performer. most of these key- board instruments are known as reproducing or re-enacting pianos, and a discussion of their mechanical details necessarily concentrates largely upon the field of the modern pianoforte (see 21.573). tue player piano by toro the foot-pumped player piano had already reached a high point of development, and there were a number of elaborate devices for lending expression to its music. ways haf been found of emphasising the melody and subduing the accom- paniment, at the pleasure of the player. the control of tempo had also undergone various improvements. some of these devices had brought about an elaborate system of controlling levers, which the human player could operate with considerable skill. but the chief source of expression still rested in the fect, with most of the shading secured through the varying rapidity and suddenness of the actual foot-pumping. the foot-pedalfed player piano permits its “ pedipulator ” to enjoy the feeling of being actually an interpretative, perhaps even a creative, artist. the principle of the player piano rests upon the laws of atmos- pheric pressure. william braid white, in his authoritative book on piano playing mechanisms, gives a fairly simple explan- ation of what happens when a mechanical piano is made to play. he first shows how “a state of reduced pressure, or, as it is called, ‘ partial vacuum,’ is induced in a small bellows called a ‘ pneumatic,’ one of which is attached in some operative manner to each section of the action of a piano.”’ he continues: “ when some of the air has been pumped out of such a pneumatic, the outside pressure pushes up its moving wall, and the motion of this wall constitutes the movement required to set in motion the corresponding action and hammer on the piano.”’ he further explains that “ the velocity of motion of the pneumatic in thus collapsing will depend upon the difference between the exterior, or atmospheric pressure, and the reduced pressure inside the pneumatic. the greater the difference between the two, the more effective will be the work of the atmosphere, and the higher the velocity of the pneumatic’s motion. thus it appears that the power exerted on the piano hammer (corresponding to the work of the fingers on the keys) by the pneumatic varies as the rapidity of reduction of air-pressure inside it. it is therefore plain that if we can keep this process of pressure-reduction under control we can vary our tone-strengths as required. control of this sort is, of course, essential to the artistic rendering of music.” refinement of control—the up-to-date reproducing piano has gone far beyond the ordinary player or pianola in the gradual refinement of such control. the difference is vastly greater than the mere substitution of electric power for foot-pumping. by various methods of controlling pressure-reduction, represented by different instruments, the human touch has generally been approximated, and in a few cases actually duplicated. the ideal of all experimentation with the reproducing piano has been to strike any note at any time with any degree of force used by the actual pianist. fundamentally this becomes a problem of weight and pressure, which is all that we really mean by ‘‘ touch.”’ but it was discovered long ago that in attaining subtlety of expres- sion and “f tone-colour,” the pedalling (soft, damper and soste- nuto) was a very important element, and that certain effects depended not only upon such blending of tone but upon the actual overlapping of the tones themselves, and the smooth passage from one to another, in the course of a “ crescendo ” or “‘ diminuendo,” with a scarcely perceptible difference in volume. the reproducing piano of the highest type permits the du- plication ofevery detail of expression as recorded by the great pianists. (‘this instrument, however, still allows the amateur to experiment with his own ideas of expression by eliminating the ' musical instruments, mechanical mechanical control and substituting the manipulation of levers or buttons under his own control.) with the discovery that the human touch could be duplicated came the invention of various recording machines, so that by 1926 every pianist of note could be heard through his records as well as in concert performance. recording processes.—processes for recording are, by most manufacturers, veiled in absolute secrecy, for obvious reasons. the results, however, depend not so much on the method of recording as on the ability of the reproducing mechanism to duplicate the effects indicated by the artist. some records made in europe in the early days of the reproducing piano have been successiully adapted to the later perfected instruments, and actually give a far finer performance than would have been possible when they were first made. in general the recording pianist simply sits at a regular keyboard and plays in his usual style. electrically connected with his piano, and invisible to him, is a recording machine carrying an endless roll of paper, on which both the notes and the expression are marked as he plays the instrument. the old player-pianos had their rolls made by mathematically following the sheet-music and with no attempt at variety of expression and interpretation. some of the newer recording machines also perforate directly from the playing of the artist, but in these cases a careful system of editing is required before the record can be heard in public. the opportunity for editing is offered also in those machines which do not perforate imme- diately, but in which the start and finish of each tone are clearly indicated by pencil marks, with the exact action of the pedals and every slight variation of pressure. in fact, the possibility of revision and editing is most important in the creation of com- pletely satisfactory recordings. there are always some mistakes to be corrected, and an artist generally finds various details which he wishes to emphasise or subdue, so that the final record- ing may truly represent his playing at its best. some reproducing pianos the pioneers in the manufacture and marketing of the modern reproducing piano were m. welte & son, of freiburg, germany, and ludwig hupfeld, of leipzig, both of whom were active as early as 1904. the name of welte-mignon, which origi- nated at that time, was by 1926 best known in america through pneumatic actions distributed under a license issued by the owners of the welte patent rights. the inventions of charles fuller stoddard were developed independently, and the instru- ment which he perfected put on the market by the american piano co., under the trade name of the ampico. another type of reproducing piano was subsequently developed by the aeolian co. from the pianola, and given the name of duo-art. the latter may be attached to the steinway, weber, steck and stroud pianos, while the ampico may be had in the chickering, knabe, mason & hamlin, haines, fischer and marshall and wendell pianos, besides the willis in canada, and the broad- wood and others in england. the welte mechanism is used with the steinway and other instruments in europe, and (as licencee) in a great number of american pianos. features of mechanism—the mechanism of each of these types deserves separate consideration. all three are alike in the general arrangement of pneumatics and in the division of the keyboard, for convenience, into two halves, treble and bass, each controlled by special expression pneumatics. all three possess a device for automatically rerolling a record, and repeat- ing it by the setting of a lever if desired. they also permit the elimination of recorded expression and the substitution of human control. in every case the piano can be used as such, even while a record is in progress. the welte—the original welte first appeared as a cabinet containing a separate action, operating on the keys of the piano, but by 1926 was generally found as an interior action in grand and upright pianos. the power plant consists of an electric mo- tor and a suction pump. including “‘ on” and “off,” 18 holes in the tracker har are devoted to expression purposes, tenon the right side and eight on the left, the rest sounding the notes. the 1007 bass and treble sections of the action are controlled by separate expression pneumatics, each closing at two definite rates of specd, slowly for crescendo, and fast for accents. there are also pneumatics to lock the expression pneumatics in a mezzo-forte position and other details for increasing expression. the duo-art.—the duo-art pianola differs from other repro- ducing pianos of the grand type by having its note-sheet driving mechanism and tracker bar placed behind the fall-board, directly over the keys themselves, the case being extended to make the necessary room. its expression system 1s divided into a melody or “ theme ”’ regulator and an accompaniment regulator, with the melody always slightly stronger. two sets of four pneumatics each, known as the “accordion dynamics,” permit as many as 16 degrees of volume. the ampico.—the ampico has both a crescendo pneumatic system and an instantaneous accent pneumatic system, which it can use in combination to control the air-tension behind the hammers. these systems may be operated independently for their separate effects, or concurrently for their combined effects, thus producing an unusual snioothness in crescendo and dimin- uendo, as well as a delicate shading. there is also an ‘‘ampli- fier’ for special effects of volume, and the extended perfora- tions in the music-sheet produce the greatly desired “ singing” quality of tone. seven holes on each side of the tracker bar con- trol expression, with an extra one on the right for the re-roll. in the ampico grand, the note-sheet mechanism is in a drawer, while the electrically driven pump is slung under the body of the piano, fheumatie rewina freverse lever preumatic stack jempo levers expression buttons in| pump ana motor > sh < 8 38 wa fic. 1.—reproducing piano, showing the principal features of the mechanism, which are described at length in the text. from a drawing by h. s. smith, ce. in piano playing mechanisms, by w.b. white, ed. l. bill, inc. n.y. “ampico upright—a typical reproducing piano (ampico upright) consists of (a2) bass equaliser; (b) bass regulator system, connected by tube with (c) crescendo pneumatic and (d) soft pedal pneumatic; (e) treble equaliser; (f) treble regulator system, connected by tube with (g) crescendo pneumatic (right side) gy 2)e the recording sheet is hung in place at /; it has a metal ring at the end of the paper caught by a pin upon the spool, so that the perfora- tions in the note-sheet will pass over the holes in the tracker bar, which is connected by tubes with the pneumatic stack and the expression system. when the pump and motor are electrically started, air is sucked through the holes in the tracker bar, causing the individual pneumatics to set the corresponding hammers in motion exactly as by the touch of the pianist on the keys. at the same time, the crescendo, accents and various pedals are similarly set in operation through special ‘‘ expression holes '’ in the tracker bar, corresponding to perforations on the edges of the note-sheet. the expression buttons in front of the keyboard permit the human ma- nipulator to introduce his own ideas of shading. i{ecan also vary the tempo at will, and do his own pedalling, if desired, the automatic expression being in that case temporarily turned off. a small motor serves to keep the note-sheet in motion and to rewind it rapidly when the playing of a record has been compicted. 1008 research work.—all the companies manufacturing these in- struments publish instruction books for mechanicians, and the mechanically inclined reader is referred to these publications for further information. an elaborate research laboratory has been for some time in operation in new york, under the direction of mr. c. f. stoddard, and here the minutest details of musical expression, including dynamics, pedalling, touch, tone quality and tempo, have been scientifically analysed, so that a beauty of mechanical playing is possible that was formerly undreamt of. in this laboratory also have been developed scientific methods of recording the performance of a pianist to a degree of accuracy which permits not only the determination of the audible loud- ness of every note struck, but shows differences in touch that are indistinguishable by the human sense of hearing. this work has made it possible to measure scientifically the technical ability of a pianist. practical uses.—the place of the reproducing piano is now fully established in the field of music on educational as well as aesthetic grounds. distinguished artists have used these instru- ments in public performance, directly comparing their own playing with that of their recordings, sometimes alternating with the latter in most astonishing fashion; and recorded accom- paniments have proved most valuable for singers, violinists, etc., in concerts as well as for private practice. schools, colleges and conservatoires of music are coming to recognise the reproducing piano as an indispensable part of their equipment, particularly for teaching the appreciation of music; and teachers of the pianoforte welcome its authoritative recordings as models for their pupils. some other instruments concerning other mechanical keyed instruments little need be said. there are, of course, coin-operated electric pianos, which have proved themselves adequate for entertainment in res- taurants and taverns, and often these are reinforced with organ pipes, drums and other orchestral effects. essentially they are built on the principle of the player-piano, although the necd of expression can practically be disregarded. the pipe organ.—the pipe organ itself is thoroughly adapt- able to mechanical playing, for its effects have little to do with the human touch, and can be produced at will by the electric control of stops and pipes. all the great organs can be played with the help of rolls, which are either entirely mechanical in their control of expression or permit a human agent to manipu- late the stops, while the tones themselves are mechanically produced. in conclusion, no matter how perfect a mechanical musical instrument may be, the fascination of personally producing tonal beauty will never be entirely lost, and human performance will continue to be popular, with its amazing duplication by scientific means in no sense a discouragement to personal en- deavour, but rather a priceless ally to the cause of music on those occasions and in those places where individual skill and talent are not always available (sce also phonograph). bibliography.—william braid white, piano playing mechan- isms, a most valuable and comprehensive treatment of all the mechanical essentials (1925); modern piano tuning and allted arts (1917) and the player-piano up-to-date (1914); ht]. c. van atta, a treatise on the piano and player-piano (1914): alfred dolge, pianos and their makers (1911); gustav kobbe, the pianolist (1907) and the aeolian pipe organ (1913): g. a. audsley, the organ of the twentieth century (1919); g. l. miller, the recent revolution tn organ building (1913); manuals of instruction for mechanics issued by such manufacturers of reproducing and re-enacting pianos as the aeolian co., the american piano co., the welte-mignon corp., the auto-pneumatic action co., etc. (s. sp.) music hall: see variety theatre. mussolini, benito (1883- ), italian statesman and journalist, was born july 29 1883 at dovia, in the commune of predappio (province of forli). his father, alessandro mussolini, was a blacksmith of internationalist revolutionary and anti- religious opinions, and plaved an active part in the loca] socialist movement, while his mother, rosa malton, was a school teacher of deep religious convictions; the views of both parents affected music hall—mussolini young mussolini in different ways at different stages of his career. he was sent to the salesain college of faenza, where he showed considerable intelligence but a passionate, insubordinate spirit. later he went to the normal school at forlimpopoli, and eventu- ally qualified as a school teacher at the age of 18, obtaining an appointment at gualtieri (province of reggio emilia). as a youth he developed a love of literature and read widely, and soon became interested in the italian socialist movement. but he tired of teaching, and determined to go to switzerland to improve his education. there he earned a precarious livelihood by manual labour of various kinds, but managed to attend the courses at the universities of lausanne and geneva, and secured a diploma as teacher of french. he lived mostly among the working classes, and, born organiser as he was, he founded trade unions and even promoted strikes, with the result that he was expelled from one canton after another, and finally from the confederation. after performing his military service in the bersagliert, he returned to teaching, but found time to improve his knowledge of the classics. in 1908 he was involved in the political agrarian conflicts in romagna, was arrested, tried and condemned to ro days’ im- prisonment, and afterwards was under police surveillance as a dangerous revolutionary. at the end of 1908 he went to trento, where he had been sum- moned by the local chamber of labour as secretary, and he also joined the staff of the local socialist paper l’ avvenire. but when he realised that the trentino socialists, in their loathing for the national idea, took their cue from the vienna govt., musso- lini went over to the pepolo, a paper edited and founded by ce- sare battisti, also a socialist, but above all an irredentist patriot who was afterwards to serve in the italian army during the war, be captured by the austrians and hanged as a traitor. here mussolini took up the study of german hterature, and became deeply interested in philosophy, especially in that of nietzsche. his association with battisti first inspired him with irredentist ideas, and after publishing an article stating that ‘“ the italian frontier does not end at ala ” he was arrested and expelled from austria. on returning to italy he published an essay of irreden- tist tendencies on ‘‘ the trentino as seen by a socialist ’’ in la voce, a periodical printed in florence which gathered around it some of the most brilliant young /ifferateurs of the day. the tripoli canpaign.—the next period of mussolini’s life was wholly devoted to socialist activity. in rg1o he founded and edited a paper at forli called lea lotta di classe, but while he vigorously supported the ideals of socialism, he deplored the materialism, as he considered it, of the bourgeois spirit into which the italian socialist party had degenerated. he drew further and further away from marx and lassalle, feeling more sympathy with the ideas of baboeuf, blanqui, prudhon, and above all with the syndicalism of sorel. an opponent of parlia- mentarianism, he reproved the italian socialists for compound- ing with the bourgeois parties in order to secure seats in the chamber and lucrative contracts for bogus co-operative socie- ties; he not only advocated direct action, but also put it into practice whenever he saw a chance of securing real advantages for the proletariat thereby, and, unlike other socialist leaders, he was ever ready to lead his followers and run personal risks. when giolitti’s government decided to send a military expedi- tion to tripoli, although not rejecting the idea of war in general, mussolini opposed this policy because, as he said, unlike the nationalists, who wanted a vast italy, he preferred an italy that should be well cultivated, rich and free. on sept. 25-27 1o11 he therefore organised a popular movement at forli against the tripoli expedition, inciting the mob to resist the authorities. he was in consequence arrested and condemned to five months’ imprisonment. at the congress of reggio emilia in 1912, when bissolati and bonomi were expelled from the party for supporting the government’s african policy, mussolini remained one of the die-hard revolutionaries, and in december of that year was made editor of the avanti, the official organ of the party. under his able editorship the circulation rose from 40,000 to 100,000, and his vigorous leaders gave the paper an entirely new character. he insisted particularly on the necessity for improving the mussolini economic and social conditions of the southern provinces, which other socialist leaders neglected because their inhabitants gave few votes to the party. during the so-called ‘‘ red week ”’ in the marche and romagna (june 7-14 1914), mussolini was one of the most active leaders of the outbreak. it wason this occasion that he lost many illusions concerning his fellow socialist leaders, whom he found ever ready to incite the mob to violence while taking good care for the safety of their own persons. he also realised that the masses were anything but ripe for revolution. the world war—rthe great crisis of mussolini’s life came with the outbreak of the world war. from the first he strongly opposed italy’s intervention on behalf of the central powers. after italy’s declaration of neutrality he still hesitated, for the contlict was raging within him between the socialist and the italian; but it was as a socialist that he favoured war in the belief that it would end war and re-establish the principles of tight and justice, while as an italian he doubted if his people were ready to enter the fray. in the autumn the tendency in favour of intervention had gained ground, and he wrote that italian unity must be completed; later he gave his approval to the government’s military measures, as he realised the danger of keeping italy alone unarmed amid the general conflagration. but he felt that his views were ever less in harmony with the official creed of his party, and he expressed the hope that if italy did intervene her international status would be raised and an economic and social revolution promoted. he deemed it neces- sary to resign the editorship of the avantz!/, and on oct. 25 appeared before the socialist assembly at milan to justify his conduct. the audience howled at him, with imprecations of “ traitor, hireling, assassin!”’; but instead of defending himself he violently attacked the other socialists for their pefit-bourgeois spirit and insincerity. he ended by confirming his belief in socialism, and saying, “‘ you hate me because you still love me.” he now founded a new paper of his own, i/ popolo d'italia, and his enemies spread about the rumour that mussolini had re- ceived money from the french embassy to support the allied cause, whereas the sole capital of his new venture was 4,000 jire advanced by advertisers. the popolo d’iialia first appeared on nov. 15 1914, and in the leading article mussolini asked: “ do we wish to drag out a miserable existence under present condi- tions, content with the stut#s gue of the monarchy and the bourgeoisie, or do we wish instead to break up this wretched combination of intrigue and cowardice?” he concluded with a stirring appeal in favour of war. the paper led a precarious existence in miserable premises, and was hardly able to pay the staff. but it gathered around it a number of brilliant young ~ writers fired with enthusiasm for the national cause, although many were republicans and socialists. audacity was its keynote, and while the idea nazionale and d’annunzio appealed to the older and more intellectual middle classes, mussolini influenced the younger generation and the workers, and he reached the less educated masses through his friend the syndicalist filippo corridoni (afterwards killed in action), editor of the weekly battaghe sindacalt. but he still believed in revolution, and in april 1915 he was arrested for advocating his views at a public meeting; ten days later he was slightly wounded in a duel with the orthodox socialist claudio treves. when on may 24 war was declared he wrote in the popolo d'italia: “‘ from to-day onwards the nation is called to arms. from to-day onwards we are all of us italians and only italians. now that steel has to meet steel, one single cry issues from our breasts, vive l’fialia! ” in the trenches —in sept. 1915 mussolini was called up, and served as a private in the bersaglieri in the trenches along the isonzo and on the carso. he did his duty gallantly until he was seriously wounded by the explosion of a trench mortar on feb. 23 1917. he spent many months in hospital, and on recovery returned to his work on the popolo d’itulia. he wrote a graphic account of his war experiences in his diarite di guerra. as early as the beginning of 1917 he realised the gravity of the propaganda which the socialists and neutralists were able to conduct owing to the feebleness of the government, especially of the minister of 1009 the interior, signor orlando, and after resuming his editorial chair he uttered warnings which were disregarded, as were those of gen. cadorna. after caporetto he was one of the few who, in the depths of national depression, never lost heart and in the columns of his paper he issued daily messages of encouragement. after the armistice mussolini opened a campaign in favour of a dignified foreign policy at the peace conference, and of adequate recognition for the services of the demobilised men. in reply to the first manifestations of balshevism in which the socialists indulged in consequence of the relaxation of the censor- ship, mussolini founded the first “ fascio di combattimento ” on march 23 toro at milan (see fascism); and although the first programme of the new group contained many demagogic de- mands, the patriotic note was predominant, and mussolini con- tinued to combat bolshevik doctrines. with regard to fiume, he insisted that its italian character must be secured. when d’annunzio occupied fiume the pepolo d'italia lent him its full support. mussolini was now bitterly hated by the socialists, and when at the elections of r919 he stood as a candidate for milan, he secured only a few votes and was described by the avanit! as a corpse to be buried in a ditch. a few days later nitti had him arrested on a charge of “ armed plotting against the security of the state ” (in connection with his support of d’annunzio), but did not dare to maintain the arrest, and he was soon liberated. mussolini now worked harder than ever at his paper, whose circulation increased rapidly-; his relaxations were writing plays and playing the violin, and he also took to motoring and aviation, in which sports he showed the same disregard of danger as in war and politics. fascist discipline —the seizure of the factories by the work- men in the autumn of 1920 did not meet with mussolini’s dis- approval, as one would have expected; he regarded their action as a form of practical syndicalism breaking away from the pusil- lanimous policy of the official socialist party. but when the communists proceeded to organise political murders at bologna, modena and ferrara, mussolini and his fascists became the nuclei of the national anti-bolshevik reaction; it is due to him that the whole communist-socialist domination collapsed, first in the po valley and then throughout italy. but mussolini was now coming to the conclusion that it was not enough to defeat and disperse the reds. the italian people, he argued, were to be made free to recover, to work and produce undisturbed, to fulfil their higher destinies; the incompetent governing caste, ready to compromise on everything, must be swept away and its place taken by the virile youth of the country who had won the war. fascism was spreading rapidly, and in nov. 1921 it was organised into a political party, but its discipline still left much to be desired. mussolini now proceeded to reorganise it and establish it on a strictly hierarchical basis, until its discipline surpassed that of any other organisation in italy. all ranks of society he regarded as necessary, for he did not wish to repudiate the past. he was, moreover, becoming ever more keenly inter- ested in foreign politics. ‘‘ i hold that, having broken the pride of bolshevism, fascism should become the watchful guardian of our foreign policy.” but the movement was extending to every sphere of national life—internal affairs, finance, labour, industry, agriculture. at the elections of may 1921 mussolini and 37 other fascist candidates were returned, and together with their allies the 10 nationalists played an active part in the debates. during the next 12 months fascist influence consolidated it- self throughout italy, and the obvious breakdown of the old political parties convinced mussolini that the time for bold action was fast approaching. at first he thought only of the possibility of a coalition government comprising fascist ele- ments, but by the summer of 1922 he felt that a predominantly fascist govt. was conceivable and indeed necessary. the strike of aug. 1 1922, promoted by the revolutionary alleanza del lavoro, was broken by the fascists, and this fact showed the increasing ‘weakness of signor facta’s govt., which was no longer able to resist any really energetic action from the right ioio or from the left. in the meanwhile, mussolini had been shedding the last traces of demagogic ideas, and at a fascist gathering at udine on sept. 29 he openly pronounced himself an upholder of the monarchy, thereby securing the sympathy of many non- fascists and of the army. he now made no secret of his intention of seizing power, and said so openly at the fascist meeting in naples in october. the march on rome (sce italy, history) was organised and directed by mussolini, and indeed it shows the mussolini touch in every phase. when the facta cabinet resigned the king first sent for sig. salandra, who tried to form a coalition government, but mussolini refused to lend the scheme his support, and salandra threw up his mandate, where- upon the task was entrusted to mussolini himself. he formed his ministry within seven hours, a record for italy, where, especially during the post-war years, every cabinet crisis had lasted for many days and even wecks. he chose several non- fascists as ministers, but refused to contract an alliance with the parties to which they belonged. his reforms.—from the moment he assumed office he set to work with his accustomed energy to overhaul and reform the whole administration, to eliminate inveterate abuses, and infuse a new spirit into the state. he himself assumed the portfolios of foreign affairs and the interior, although the work of the latter he left largely to the under-secretary aldo finzi. in june 1924, after the matteotti affair, he appointed sig. federzoni minister of the interior, but in the following spring, on the resignations of gen. di giorgio and adml. thaon di revel (april 3 and may 5), he assumed the portfolios of war and marine, and also that of the new air ministry; while leaving great latitude to the under-secretaries, he gradually welded the three ministries into a single department of national defence. he also kept in close touch with all the other departments, and many questions of great national interest, such as the development of public works in southern italy, for the purpose of bringing that area up to the level of the more progressive north, the so-called “battle for wheat ”’ engaged to intensify wheat production, the reformed clectoral law, the various reforms of a constitutional character, etc., are due to his initiative. asa socialist mussolini was an anti-parliamentarian, and even later did not regard the parliament as the sole organ of national life. his object was to make italy powerful, prosperous and efficient, in as short a time as possible. but in order to make these reforms lasting he deter- mined that the whole body politic shall be imbued with the fascist spirit—fascistizzare la nazione, as he described it— and he therefore inserted fascism into every activity of the country. as a minister, mussolini’s activity was prodigious. even when he was seriously ill in the spring of 1925, he surprised his friends and disconcerted his adversaries by continuing very largely to conduct his business of government from his bed, and by his quick recovery. while he was immensely popular with the great majority of the people who appreciate the far-reaching benefits of his rule, he had many enemies among the members of the old governing caste, the socialists, communists and republicans and the anti-national freemasons, whose influence he destroyed. at the end of oct. 1925, a plot to murder him was discovered by the police, and the would-be murderer, the socialist ex-deputy tito zaniboni, was arrested in the very act; other persons were arrested in connection with the affair, notably gen. capello, a leading freemason. the news of the plot aroused general indignation, and mussolini received a plebiscite of enthu- siastic congratulations. on april 7 1926, as he was leaving the capitol, where he had inaugurated a surgical congress, an irish- woman, the hon. violet gibson, fired at him with a revolver, slightly wounding him in the nose. the would-be murderess appeared to be demented. the wound did not prevent him from sailing for tripoli the following day according to programme. mussolini is not a finished orator in the classical sense; he has no rounded periods and he seldom introduces apt quotations. but every speech bristles with facts and ideas, each sentence is like a hammer-stroke on the anvil emitting vivid sparks, and each phrase, seemingly independent of the others, contributes -for his arrest both to salonika and to jaffa. mustafa kemal to build up the central idea which he wishes to assert. on in- numerable occasions an apparently difficult, even insoluble, situation has been solved by one of his vigorous speeches. be- sides innumerable articles in f/ popolo d'italia, avanti!, gerarchia, etc., he has published 2/ mte diario di guerra 1915-7 (milan, 1923), and his speeches have been collected in several volumes. a selection of them has been published in english edited by baron quaranta, mussolint as revealed in his political speeches, nov. 1914 to aug. 1923 (1923). his biography was published in english by margherita sarfatti (butterworth, 1925). see also antonio beltramelli’s l’nemo nuove (18). ae mustafa kemal (1s80- ), turkish soldier and states- man, was born in comparatively modest circumstances in salonika. his father was a customs officer who afterwards entered the timber trade and died when mustafa was yet a small child. the boy was brought up and educated by his mother, who appears to have been a woman of character and ability. he completed his primary education in salonika and entered a secondary school in the same place; but, having been mal- treated by his arabic teacher, he left school, against his family’s wish, and secretly entered the military preparatory school. there he proved to be an exceptional student, especially in mathematics, and attracted the attention of his fellow-students and teachers. ilis teacher in mathematics, who was also named “ mustafa,” gave him the distinctive surname of ‘‘ kemal” (an arabic word meaning “ perfection”), as a tribute to his unusual ability. the extent to which he won the esteem and affection of his companions while at the military academy is indicated by the fact that, although he already took an active interest in politics and bitterly criticised the despotism of abdu ’l-hamid, he was never denounced. in 1904 he was gazetted a lieutenant, but on the same day he was placed under arrest, taken to yildiz palace, and detained there for weeks under cross-examination. finally he was ban- ished to damascus. in this provincial capital he had an oppor- tunity to observe the deplorable condition into which the civil and military organisation of the empire had fallen. he also found followers here, and founded in 1905 the secret political society “‘ vatan”’ (‘‘ fatherland”). from damascus he was transferred to jaffa, and from there with the help of his friends, he made his way secretly to salonika in order to organise a similar political movement in the european provinces. the association which he founded at salonika was afterwards affiliated to the union and progress society. by this time the constantinople govt. had got wind of his secret activities, and it sent orders with the help of his friends at salonika, mustafa kemal was smuggled on board a steamer sailing for jaffa, and at the same time the military commandant at jafia reported to constantinople that mustafa kemal was on duty on the egyptian frontier. for a time he was forgotten by the government in constantinople. in 1907 he was promoted and sent to salonika, where he again devoted himself to the work of revolutionary organisation. when the revolution of 1908 re-established the constitution of 1876, mustafa kemal found himself in serious disagreement with the leaders of the union and progress party who were now in power. his political views were more radical than theirs and he protested, though in vain, against the participation of the army in politics. in consequence he abandoned politics for the time and turned his whole energy into his military career. from this time onwards, he was appointed to a number of important military posts, in each of which he gave evidence of his ability and his powers of leadership. in 1910 he was sent to france to follow the army manoeuvres. he was loved and respected by the younger olficers, but some of his superiors looked askance at him on account of his uncompromising attitude. in rg11 he went to tripoli incognito in order to take part in the war against the italians, and there he was promoted to the rank of major. he was still in tripoli when the first balkan war broke out in oct. 1912 (see balkan wars). he started at once for turkey, . but the news of his country’s defeat and the fall of salonika reached him in egypt. in july 1913, however, during the mustafa kemal second balkan war, he was appointed chief of the staff to the newly-organised army corps on the gallipoli peninsula, and here for the first time he made a detailed first-hand study of the prob- lem of defending the dardanelles. after the restoration of peace between turkey and bulgaria in the same summer, he was appointed military attache at sofia, with the rank of colonel, and held this post until after the intervention of turkey tn the world war in the autumn of 1914. mustafa kemal believed that turkey had entered the war prematurely and that germany was doomed to eventual defeat. possibly it was on this account that his desire to return to active service was not encouraged; but, on his insistence, he was ap- pointed commander of the forces at rodosto, and afterwards (in 1915) at the dardanelles. he was the moving spirit on the turkish side in the defence of the straits against the british attack; and it would not be an exaggeration to say that the situa- tion was saved through his personal skill, insight and bravery when the turkish high command had actually lost hope. during the final british assault he was struck by a splinter of shell right over the heart, but the splinter was intercepted by his watch and he thus escaped with his life. after the evacuation of the gallipoli peninsula by the british, mustafa kemal was sent to the caucasus front, where he was promoted to the rank of pasha and recovered bitlis and mush from the russians. in 1917 he was posted to the hejaz, but after stopping at damascus to study the general situation, he proposed to recall all the forces in the hejaiz in order to reinforce the syrian front. this prudent proposal was not carried out, but later in the same year he was appointed to the command of the vii. army corps in the force which the german general von falkenhayn was organising with a view to the recovery of bagh- dad. at this time germany’s intervention in the internal affairs of turkey had reached its height, and mustafa kemal pasha put himself at the head of the opposition to it. he sent in a succession of reports adverse to the baghdad expedition, which he thought would end in another disaster, and when his advice was ignored he resigned. he was then transferred to the second army corps, but abstained from taking up his command owing to his disagreement on questions of principle with gen- eral headquarters. while on leave in constantinople he was sent on a mission to the german g.h.q. with the heir apparent vahydu’d-din efendi. ‘there, in the presence of generals hindenburg and ludendorfi, he expressed outspokenly his pes- simistic views regarding the outcome of the war. in 1918 he yielded to the insistance of vahydu’d-din efendi, who had meanwhile succeeded to the throne as sultan mehmed vi., and accepted the command of the vii. army corps in palestine, but by this time all chance of taking the offensive, or even avert- ing disaster, had disappeared. mustafa kemal again distin- guished himself, however, in keeping together the remnants of his corps on the retreat which followed general allenby’s great victory, and before the end of sept. he was appointed command- er-in-chief of all the corps constituting the so-called yildirim group. when the turkish govt. negotiated the armistice of mudros (oct. 30 1918), mustafa kemal was opposed to the policy of complete surrender, and after the signature of the arm- istice he retired to constantinople and began studying the new situation at his leisure. there was nothing to be done in constantinople, but his opportunity was given to him by two events: the greek landing at smyrna on may 16 1919, which reawakened the turkish nation, and his own appointment by the ottoman govt. in constantinople as inspector of the ix. army corps in north-eastern anatolia. his mission, as conceived by the sultan and the grand vizier, damad ferid pasha, was to execute the armistice terms by superintending the disarmament and demobilisation of the turkish army in this remote district. mustafa kemal’s intention was to create a nucleus of national resistance against the partition of the coun- try, and he therefore accepted with alacrity the position offered him by the unsuspecting government. as soon as he landed at samsun he began to organise his new movement locally at ioit amasia, tokat and sivas, and to correspond secretly with other parts of the country. the sultan’s govt., awaking too late to what he was doing, recalled him to constantinople, but instead of obeying he went on to erzerum and sent in his resig- nation to constantinople. he next convened two congresses, one at erzerum in july, and the other at sivas in sept. roto. both congresses endorsed his programme of fighting for national existence to the bitter end, and they appointed a standing execu- tive committee under his chairmanship. thereupon he was out- lawed by the constantinople govt., and relations between the capital and the interior of anatolia were broken, but all the efforts of the constantinople govt. and the allied powers to frustrate mustafa kemal’s activities were unavailing. they simply strengthened his conviction, and that of the people round him, that he had taken the right path. the political and military history of the new turkish nation- alist movement, commonly called the “‘ kemalist ’”? movement, after its founder, is given elsewhere (see greco-turkish war; lausanne, treaty of; turkey), and in this article it can only be touched upon in so far as mustafa kemal’s personal career is directly concerned. mustafa kemal was in favour of the na- tionalists participating in the general election at the close of 1920, but decidedly opposed to the meeting of the assembly at constantinople, and his judgment was borne out after the event by the high-handed action which the british military authorities and the sultan’s govt. took in march and april 1920 respectively. on april 23 1920 mustafa kemal gath- ered together at angora the nationalist members of the late parliament who had escaped from constantinople, and was elected unanimously as president of this new national assembly. turing the 24 years which followed, mustafa kemal was the heart and soul of the turkish national resistance, in circum- stances in which all but the most determined characters would have despaired. he knew how to make the most of the fact that this time the nation was fighting for its homeland, and not for some distant alien province like the yemen or albania. he succeeded in evoking the utmost powers of his followers, and his firm conviction of final victory, his exceptional military ability, his keen intellect and his persuasive oratory carried his country- men through their ordeal. during the summer campaign of 1921, which was the supreme crisis of the greco-turkish war, the angora assembly appointed mustafa kemal gencralissimo of the turkish forces, with unlimited power, and he took per- sonal charge at the front during the 22 days’ and nights’ fighting of the battle of the sakaria. during the battle his horse was wounded and the general broke a nb in falling, but he never left the front. after this battle the assembly gave him the rank of field-marshal and the traditional title of “ ghazi” (the victorious). | the great events which followed—the destruction of the greek army, the peace settlement at lausanne, the abolition of the sultanate, the declaration of the republic and the abolition of the caliphate—were the direct work of mustafa kemal. on oct. 29 1923, the date on which the republic was proclaimed, the great national assembly unanimously elected mustafa kemal as the first president of the republic. the wide con- stitutional powers which he thus received were enormously enhanced by his personal force of character and by the unique hold which he had obtained over the hearts and minds of his countrymen through the astonishing services which he had rendered to the national cause. indeed, mustafa kemal be- came a dictator in fact, though not in constitutional theory, and this fact dominated the political situation of turkey as she emerged from the war. in some ways mustafa kemal’s virtual dictatorship was advantageous and perhaps even necessary to turkey, since the period of reconstruction which now began was hardly less critical than the foregoing period of war and revolution. undoubtedly mustafa kemal displayed the same energy, audacity and radicalism in setting out to “ win the peace ” as he had displayed in winning the war. on the other hand, after the external menace to the existence of turkey had been removed, the internal unity of the nation ioi2 naturally began to relax, and different parties arose with differ- ent policies for securing the national welfare. this was a healthy symptom, and an outside observer would be inclined to criticise mustafa kemal, during this phase of his career, for not allowing sufficiently free play to these opposition elements. his some- what repressive policy towards his political opponents had the unfortunate effect of depriving turkey of certain talents and abilities which she could ill afford to spare, and there was a per- ceptible increase of factiousness and embitterment in the internal politics of the country. nevertheless, at the time of writing, president mustafa kemal’s position in turkey remained substantially unimpaired. (ax to i) mutsuhito (1852-1912), emperor of japan (see 19.100), died at teky6 july 30 1912. he was posthumously styled the emperor meiji, according to the custom of japan. mycology (gr. yixys, a mushroom; dodyos, discourse): the scientific study of fungi. the two decades from about 1890 to 1910 were remarkable in the history of mycology, for the many interesting discoveries made in the morphology and physiology of the fungi, especially in regard to their reproductive processes and the problems of sex and nuclear fusions. the results obtained have been since then exhaustively investigated, and have been, in large measure, confirmed, and upon the foun- dations thus laid our knowledge of the fungi has, during recent years, been extended in all directions. many new aspects of study have been opened up, life histories have been more fully elucidated, the study of pure cultures has added much to our knowledge of the physiological activities in- volved in parasitism, saprophytism and symbiosis; and the physiological effects of light, heat and the chemical and other changes taking place in the substratum during the growth of a fungus are more clearly understood. knowledge of plant diseases (see plant pathology) has, especially in the tropics, been vastly increased; and the establishment by the govt. of an “‘ imperial bureau of mycology ” has already, in conjunction with the valuable mycological work carried on at kew and the british museum, profoundly influenced phytopathological research in the empire. classification.—in the classification of the fungi, although much has been done to elucidate the life histories of a large num- ber of different forms, there are stillso many gaps in our knowl- edge that anything like a satisfactory natural classification is impossible. many new schemes have been proposed, but so far the most useful classification is that which maintains the three great classes with their subdivisions: (1) phycomycetes (zygo- mycetes, oomycetes), (2) ascomycetes (including laboulbenia- ceae) and (3) basidiomycetes (ustilaginaceae, uredinae and basidiomycetes proper), together with the fung: imperfecti, the members of which are probably stages in the life histories of forms belonging to the ascomycetes and basidiomycetes, and the lichens, the majority of which are ascolichens, a few being basidiolichens. as regards phylogeny, evidence is gradually accumulating that the derivation of the primitive fungi such as the chytridineae is to be traced to a protozoan ancestry (see protozoology). many of these primitive forms, and notably that curiously interesting species polyphagus eugienac, have much in common with protozoa, and we have also to consider, in this connection, the mycetozoa and bacteria, which, although they have some of the characteristics, are not regarded as true fungi. as regards the higher fungi, notwithstanding our increased knowledge of their structure and reproduction, any conclusions as to their algal ancestry, although not impossible, cannot at present be substantiated. recent investigations —among the more generally interesting investigations of recent years are those on the symbiotic rela- tionships of the fungi to higher plants, as exemplified by the endotropic mycorhiza of callusaa vulgaris. evidence has been brought forward to show that the presence of the fungus is so necessary to the well-being of this plant that no development of the seedling can take place unless it is infected by the fungus, and this infection is brought about by hyphae in the seed coat. fur- mutsuhito—mycology ther, although seedlings may be satisfactorily infected from artifi- cial cultures, yet, if the culture is too vigorous and the seedling weak, the fungus behaves as a parasite. this raises important problems still under discussion concerning the relations of mycorhiza and symbiosis to parasitism and saprophytism. many new observations have been made upon the cell con- tents of the fungi. among these may be mentioned metachro- matin, chromidia, mitochondria, coenospheres or coenocentra and elaioplasts. the distribution and staining properties of these bodies have been carefully studied, but we are still far from a clear understanding of their significance. some attention has been paid to the colouring matters of the fungi. the orange coloured fatty globule in the zodspores of chytridineae probably plays the part of an eye spot. most of the brilliant colouring of the fungi is due to colouring matters in the cell walls, or in the mucilaginous layers of the cell membrane. many of these when extracted in water and alcohol exhibit a beautiful blue or blue-green fluorescence. , the stimuli of light and gravity play an important part in the orientation of the fungi. light exerts not only a directive but also a formative influence on their growth. positive helio- tropic response occurs in many of the agaricineae, in the asci of certain discomycetes and in the sporangiophores of various mucorineae, by which they are brought into the best position for the discharge of their spores. response to the stimulus of gravity is shown during the growth of the fruit bodies of the ifymeno- mycetes, and is on all-fours with what takes place in higher plants. the perceptive region is located in the stipe, the upper part being the most sensitive. the gills show a very pronounced positive response to gravity. there is very little to add to our knowledge of the sexuality and nuclear fusions in the fungi beyond what was known in 1910. in the phycomycetes functional sexual organs and the fusion of male and female nuclei have been discovered in many species in which they had not previously been found, and the presence of functional sexual organs has been definitely established in the saprolegniaceae. in the ascomycetes and basidiomycetes the significance of the nuclear fusions in the ascus, teleutospore and basidium is still not understood, and the existence of two nuclear fusions in the life historics of certain ascomycetes is still a matter of controversy. very conflicting accounts are given of the nuclear behaviour in such classical species as sphaerotheca and pyronema, and until some quite definite agreement as to the facts is forthcoming it seems impossible to arrive at anything like a satisfactory explanation. in that interesting group the laboulbeniaceae, there is evidence that sexual fusion takes place by a method somewhat similar to that described for the lichens by means of a trichogyne and spermatia. the fusion has not actually been observed, and the fate of the spermatia is unknown. in the basidiomycetes proper a number of observations have been made to show that the phenomena of heterothallism and homothallism, as in the mucorineae, occur here also. the criteria for this conclusion are the behaviour of cultures of mono- sporous mycelia as contrasted with those of bisporous or poly- sporous mycelia in the production of fruit bodies; and the forma- tion of clamp-connections. thus, coprinus fimentarids is stated to be heterothallic on the following grounds: in a monosporous culture no clamp-connections were found, the nuclei remained unpaired and the mycelium was sterile. when two mono- sporous cultures were brought together clamp-connections were formed, the cells became binucleate and fruit bodies were pro- duced. the presence of clamp-connections is staled to be ‘invariably associated with the conjugation of the nuclei.” it is suggested that this criterion affords a means of determining whether a species is homothallic or heterothallic. these conclusions are so important that the data on which they are based should be subject to the most critical confirma- tion, especially in view of the facts that contradictory state- ments concerning them have been made, and that they have been used as a basis for important conclusions upon the mendelian segregation of sex in these forms. it is essential that we should have definite confirmation of the function suggested for the myslbek—mysticism clamp-connections, and of the transference of nuclei from one cell to another in the anastomoses that take place in the mycelia, before any satisfactory advance can be made in this new field of study. ce wat) myslbek, josef vaclav (1848-1922), czech sculptor, was born at prague july 21 1848. he was a pupil of vaclav levy and worked under trenkwald at the academy of fine arts in prague. he sprang into prominence when in 1871 he carved two symbolical figures for the exterior of the national theatre in prague. the statues are distinguished by a slav lyricism and delicacy, combined with a masculine strength and a monumental feeling. after a brief residence in paris he was in 1885 appointed professor at the school of arts and crafts in prague, of which he became a director in 1893. all myslbek’s work presents a blend of idealism with a precise and balanced realism and exhibits his endeavour to cope with the fundamental problems of art. his statues “ devotion” (1884, modern gallery, prague), and “‘ steadfastness ” (1884, vienna parliament) notably unite a powerful idea with a complete mastery of the material. jlis “ crucifix’ (1888-9), installed in the sacre coeur at paris, bears comparison with the works of old masters, although it is conceived in the modern spirit, expressing human suffcring and divine resignation. the statue of cardinal schwarzenberg (1895) is a masterpiece of portraiture, but the highest attainment of myslbek’s art is the monument to st. vaclav, a work of 30 years, in st. vaclav’s square in prague, which embodies all his monumental qualities as an artist and attains a level which entitles it to a place among the great works of european statuary. mysltbek died at prague in 1922.