The Gaulois summed up the affair in a few significant words:
The scholastics had maintained that "It is much easier for the ass to disprove than it is for the philosopher to assert." But here came an ass and proved something in spite of all the philosophers of the world. He has proved--not a priori but a posteriori--that the most manifest daubery may pass as a picture in the eyes of those who accept the non-real, the improbable, and the absurd for new art.
Thought uttered becomes an untruth.--Thaddeus Tutchev.
The wonder-child is not so much a "wonder" in Europe as in this country. "At seven, yes--even up to eleven, perhaps," a young German violinist who began to concertize at six once told me. "But after that--there are so many and they all play so beautiful! So it is more common there and people think not so much of it." And she went on to tell me, with the most wistful seriousness, how at twelve she had felt suddenly so oppressed with age and weariness that for two years she had wanted not to play at all. She described it as a period when she wanted to "stop feeling and run in the country all day and be only with animals."
But on the whole her theory seemed to be that it was the simplest thing in the world for a child to play well--better, in some ways, than he will ever play later on; and very likely it's true. The newer psychologists have given us enough reason to think so.
It still comes with something of a shock to us here, however; and when we started for The Chicago Little Theatre one night two weeks ago to hear Master Ruby Davis, aged twelve, give a violin recital, it was with the most excited anticipations. I had never heard a child play the violin. Surely disappointment was inevitable....
A little boy walked quietly out on to the stage, smiling. (I heard afterward that some one had asked him if it didn't frighten him to face all those people. "Oh, no," he said, "I'm going to play my violin!") He had on a little soft white shirt and knickerbockers. His hair was almost auburn and curled away from his forehead; his eyes were blue and his skin the softest white. His hands were the long, slender, "artistic" type rather than the blunt, heavy type which is quite as common among first-rate violinists. "Antoine"--that was all I could think.