THE MUSICAL CRITIC'S ORDEAL.
[Mr. CYRIL SCOTT, the musical composer, in his recently published volume on The Philosophy of Modernism in its connection with Music, states that the criterion of lofty music, the method of gauging the spiritual value of art, "is only possible to him who has awakened the latent faculties of the pineal gland and the pituitary body.">[
Lately I've been reading CYRIL SCOTT'S
Book on Music, modern and unmuzzled,
And, though solving many toughish knots,
By one statement I am sadly puzzled,
Namely, that if we would understand
What divides the noble from the shoddy
We must cultivate "the pineal gland,"
Also "the pituitary body."
But unfortunately SCOTT refrains
(Hence my present painful agitation)
From elucidating how one gains
This desiderated consummation.
Must I fly to silken Samarcand,
Or explore the distant Irrawaddy
For the culture of my pineal gland
And of my pituitary body?
Is the object gained by force of will
Or some drastic vegetarian diet?
Does it mean a compound radium pill
Causing vast upheaval and disquiet?
Do I need some special "Hidden Hand,"
Or the very strongest whisky toddy
To arouse my dormant pineal gland,
My unused pituitary body?
Should I read the works of Mr. YEATS,
Or the lays of WILCOX (ELLA WHEELER)?
Must I visit the United States
And consult the newest occult "healer"?
Is the tragedy of IBSEN'S Brand
Or the humour of Poor Pillycoddy
Better feeding for my pineal gland
And for my pituitary body?
Vain the subtle art of HENRY JAMES,
Vain the wealth of ROTHSCHILDS or of MORGANS,
If I fail to satisfy the claims
Of these mystic and momentous organs;
I'm no better than a grain of sand
Or a simple common polypody,
With an undeveloped pineal gland,
An inert pituitary body.
Blindly seeking for a helpful clue,
Welcoming no matter what suggestion,
I have lately sounded one or two
Leading doctors on this vital question;
But they think I'll have to be trepanned
If I wish effectively to modify
the structure of my pineal gland
Or of my pituitary body.
MORAL.
'Gin pituitary bodies,
With awakened eye,
Meet with humble hoddy-doddies—
Smaller human fry—
Cries and kissing both are missing
When they're passing by,
And the astral demi-god is
Comin' thro' the rye.
OUR COLLOQUIAL CONTEMPORARIES.
"Repeated charges by Turkish cavalry resulted in only a slight gain of ground at the expense of heavy osses."—Daily News.
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