The fairest of the fair

Front matter

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>o IX.

II

When the band is playing in the plaza before the Administration Building, the benches are generally filled with people. Many of them sit as close as they can get to the band-stand, with their backs to the Lagoon, watching the movements of the leader's baton, or the uniforms of the players. They are probably the same variety of humanity which, in country places, builds ugly httle houses facing a dusty highway, while behind, and additionally hidden by a huge pile of firewood, lies a glorious view of sky and water and golden fields.

But the greater number sit in happy quietness, looking over the Lagoon, and at the fountain. You see people you would scarcely expect to find in such a place. Here, leaning against the balustrade which encircles the fountain, his head bent back, staring up at the rounded curve of the Administration's dome, is an old farmer, in a rusty black suit, with a collarless shirt and a broad-brimmed hat. His face is struggling to express an intricacy of new emotions, but succeeds only in looking dazed. After a while, he moves on towards Agricultural Palace, where he is sure of finding something which he can thoroughly master.

Beside you is an unmistakable Irish cook. She is examining earnestly the mermaids of the fountain. Presently, turning toward you, she murmurs in an awed voice, " Is it craters like them that be in the say ? Howly Mother of God, but what a wonderful place it is ! Women wid tails like the fishes !" And muttering exclamations of wonder and delight, she passes on.

If you are inexperienced, you may, in attempting to reach any desired spot, try to shorten the way by going through one or other of the buildings which intervene. But after you have in this way missed one or two important engagements, you learn always to go round outside when in a hurry. No matter how determined you may be to go straight through a building, or how little you may look to the right hand or to the left, something is certain to catch your attention, and then you are lost. The Liberal Arts Building is especially perilous. However, this will not really prevent you from going through the buildings ; it will simply cure you of being in a hurry.

At first you are bewildered by the enormous quantity of things to be seen ; but presently you find out that the way to do is to forget that anything exists except the particular building, or statue, or picture, or bronze, or necklace, at which you happen to be looking. This is soon learnt, and thenceforward you are all right. You are never confused, and you remember perfectly just what and where is everything that has delighted you. ^

There are really three worlds at the Fair, utterly distinct and different. The lovely buildings, the lagoons, the broad walks, the statues and flowers and green turf, the arch of the sky, flooded with sunHght, or misty under the moon — all these are one world. Inside the many buildings is another world, intricate and wonderful ; and Midway Plaisance is the third. Perhaps the three were better called a Trinity, of which the first is the soul, the second the mind, and the last the body. [

There is no one view of the Arts Building of which one may say "This is the loveliest!"

However, I have said it of each one separately, for each is so perfect that its beauty leaves one no room for memory or anticipation, but fills one with deep satisfaction — with the happiness of simply lookijig, full of content, and yet ever desiring more.

I liked to stand with my back to the Illinois Building — (a wise thing to do always, for the Building is an ugly one) — and look across the lagoon to where one wing, white-columned, strong, seeming to have stood from eternity, and to be beyond time's touch, lies along the water's edge in breathless loveliness. On a pedestal in the centre of the broad flight of steps leading upwards from the lagoon, is the colossal statue of the Medici Minerva ; a goddess indeed, standing where only a goddess could stand, and look more beautiful. Building and statue are both perfect in themselves, and yet each is better for the other. The blue water changes here to white, with silvery lights and shadows, through which the reflection of the rounded pillars, the steps and arches gleam tremulously, sometimes almost complete, and then vanishing, only to be formed once more in the still depths of the lagoon.

After gazing long at this, I would walk round to the other side and sit on a bench near the New York House, and look again. Here the central part of the Building is directly in front, with the wings on either side. There are broad lawns here, and some distance in front of the Building is the noble statue of the Emperor Augustus. This palace is somehow like Silence turned to marble. The grandly simple outlines, the grey shadows on white walls and pillars, the curve of the arches and the low domes, the harmonious decorations, and the dignity and sweetness of it all, seem the incarnation of an unuttered poem. An ideal, not of the silence of Nothingness, but of that Silence, surpassing and embracing all beautiful sounds, which crowns the summits of mighty mountains, and dwells in the depths of the sky and the ocean. Truly a perfect building, if there be one in this world !

But in addition to these kings and queens of architecture, there are many minor buildings, certain views, or groups, effects of light and shade, lovely vistas suddenly revealed as you saunter along, and which, as you have found them for yourself and by yourself, you grow to love particularly — these lesser things are not less worthy in their measure. Walking back from the Midway to the Grand Basin, I liked to take the path between Electricity and Mines, for there I got an especially lov^ely view of Administration ; and at night, when the moon was full, there was a moment when it would balance its serene silver globe right above the golden dome, as though some spirit of the air had playfully and wisely placed it there, to add the finishing touch to the beautiful creation of Man. If so, then this same spirit played other pranks with fair Diana ; for one evening, while she was yet crescent, and floating in a rosy sunset sky, he poised her right over the exquisite minaret in Cairo street — a celestial compliment, indeed, to the Sublime Porte !

I was surprised to see how many people make a dreadful duty of "seeing the Fair." Loaded down with guide-books, pads, pencils and bags, with an expression of hopeless weariness and discouragement, they stagger along, carrying an ever-increasing load of woe. For each minute spent in looking at a building or picture, three are wasted in a minute study of the guide-book. Not, presumably, Jiaving f^sis*=

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H en much time, they do not pause, should anything please them particularly, to take delight in it ; but pass on to what comes next, and glare at that, and so on, until they drop exhausted on a bench, too tired and cross to notice even the loveliness before their eyes, restful though its harmonious strength or sweet simplicity may be. These misguided creatures turn heaven to hell. They never realize that if they have but a day, two days, a week, or what not, it is better to spend it seeing some one thing, and studying its beauty until they feel it has become a part of themselves, and that they can always remember it with happiness, — than to rush and hufry from object to object, recollecting nothing, learning nothing, and losing what they might have had because they insanely coveted all.

On the north end of Wooded Island are three Japanese houses. Every part of them is perfect ; and the more I examined them, the more I found to admire in their exquisite workmanship, in the combination of the different woods, and in the coloring.

For a long time they were closed ; but one morning I found to my delight that at last the gliding partitions had been drawn back and I could look into the dainty rooms. One of these rooms seemed to be a kitchen, or perhaps a dining-room, or both. The floor is covered (as in all the rest) with matting of cream color, and the junction-lines of the mats are covered with strips of some fabric ornamented with a running pattern in grey. In the middle of the room are several little lacquer-work tables, holding small pots and pans — of burnished copper, I think — and lovely tea-pots, cups and other utensils. Everything is cleaner than the most careful and particular of Yankee housewives ever dreamed of. There is, indeed, fiothing to attract dirt. The paper walls, which slide back and forth, are of delicate tints, sometimes with fans painted on therfi, or some long-legged storks and a few rushes, or a flight of little birds. The white matting, one or two beautiful vases, and a little lacquer-work table are the chief furniture. In one of the rooms there are also some lamps with tall, slender stems and colored shades, and a few musical instruments, fascinating to look upon. And here and there are gorgeous jars, in which are artificial chrysanthemums and other flowers, copied to the life, and yet with a sHght conventional touch which keeps them from being only copies. What quaint and curious little dwellings these are, and how beautiful ! If we had to live in houses like these, would we gradually become as gentle and courteous and soft-spoken as the little people who built them ? Or, if we should build houses that suited us as well as these do the Japanese — what a queer variety of them there would be, to be sure !

If the wind is from the right direction one is aware of the existence of the Rose Garden long before coming upon it. I found it within a low fence ; grass-bordered paths wind towards it, with occasional beds of flowers, or clumps of shrubs. The perfume, now strong, now fainter, blew about me, and now I could see the roses themselves.

Some are little trees, covered with red and pink flowers, and standing up proudly, as well they may. Here is a bed of low bushes, and all the roses on them are pale yellow, with golden hearts. Some tumble about recklessly, with a generous flood of blossoms ; and some lean against little sticks and hold up one per-

The Fairest of the Fair.

feet flower. Along the borders of the beds honeysuckle is twined, and there are other flowers, but the roses did not let me look at these much. Even the Lake wind is soft here, and lingers lovingly, barely shaking off the curled petals of the very fullest-blown rose in all the garden.

III

I HAVE spent many an hour wandering among the bronzes and marbles which France, Italy and Russia show in their exhibits in the Liberal Arts Building.

Those in the French department are always delicate and graceful, and many are beautiful. Some of Barye's groups are here, a few with human figures, but chiefly little casts of his best-known animals. These are interesting, the whole conception being fine, and every detail worked out ; and yet they always seem to me to be more like animals on parade than as though they were simply living their own wild lives, without bothering about their appearance.

There are many nude figures of women, one especially lovely Diana, gracefully erect, with her bow in her hand. She has a bewitching air of lithe dignity and wildness, well-suited to her. There are also little costumed figures, as pretty as one can wish. The Russian bronzes are much more elaborate than the French ; generally groups of oxen dragging ploughs, or horses plunging and rearing with sleighs or carts. I liked them greatly, there is so much in each, without confusion. If you have been to Buffalo Bill's Wild West, which is encamped just outside the Fair Grounds, you may remember the Cossack who rides round the arena standing up, with his feet in the stirrups crossed over the saddle. As I was looking at these bronzes, I came across a group of a horse and man riding in this way. The Cossack had the rein over his right arm, and was partly turned round, in the act of firing a long musket at some one. The horse, suddenly arrested, is crouching back with his fore-feet barely touching the ground, and his head pulled up by the rein. Everything about the group shows the suddenness with which the rapid motion of a moment ago has been checked ; in another instant, horse and rider will be dashing on again, faster than ever.

Among the beautiful nymphs and goddesses, village maids and little children, carved out of Carrara and Parian marble, in the Itahan exhibit, was one figure of Marguerite in the pretty Gretchen dress, with wavy hair, and a sweet, innocent face. The figure is not remarkable at a first glance, either for originality or excellence. However, as I was about to pass on, I noticed that a mirror behind Marguerite did not reflect her long braids and pretty shoulders, but, instead, the sly eyes and sneering mouth of Mephistopheles looked at me mockingly from the clear glass. The back of the statue had been carved into another figure. The effect was rather ghastly ; and on looking again at Marguerite, it seemed as though the devil's ugly sneer was lurking in her smile. Having once seen him, his influence spread over what before was innocent and lovely, and caused a feehng of horror to arise. I hope there are few such statues.

In some of the figures, especially of Moors and Dancing Girls, bronze and marble are combined. The face, arms and feet are metal, and the flowing robes and burnouses of white marble. The effect is striking and pretty.

In the Japanese exhibit in the same Building is — or was — a group of two wrestlers. The men are not a foot in height, and perfect in every detail ; hair, eyes, expression, color — all exactly reproduced. The pose is splendid, and one of the men — the larger — has slightly the advantage ; yet so very sHght that I found myself holding my breath and waiting for the final struggle which must instantly take place. The smaller one seems to be the quicker and cleverer, and perhaps after all, thought I . . . when I remembered that they would probably stay as they were for some time at least. Curiously enough, you do not notice their size after a moment, nor think whether they are large or small. They seem two wrestling men — neither more nor less.

Everything in this Japanese exhibit is beautiful, except the things that are meant to be grotesque — like the masks, for instance, which are hideous enough to give any well-trained child the nightmare. There is one blue vase I should like to have where I could always see it ; of perfect shape and color, with an iris or two painted on it. There are vases of all shapes, colors and styles of decoration, consorting with beauty ; exquisitely carved cabinets with innumerable shding-doors and drawers and niches, fascinating to look upon. There are carvings in ivory, too ; but better ones can be seen in the Chinese exhibit at the other end of the Building. The Chinese certainly have an especial genius for this kind of carving ; no people, except possibly the Siamese, can approach them in it. Their exhibit is small, but you can spend a long time there. Three or four Chinamen, in beautiful costumes, saunter about, or fan themselves leisurely, seated in carved and inlaid chairs. Their queues touch the ground even when they stand up. They have strange musical instruments, covered with snake skin ; gnarled roots, freakishly resembling monstrous animals, have had shining eyes put in their heads, and the wood is polished. Beautiful garments of such exquisite colors that I wanted to put them on instantly — even as I like to pick a flower when I see it — hang against the walls. There is a tiny vase with the remains of blue enamel on it, and a dainty flower design, which is four hundred years old, and belonged to some long dead Chinese Emperor, who was probably admiring it while Columbus was struggling with circumstances for a look at these shores. I found wonderful embroideries too, in rich colors and intricate designs. There is a set of ivory chess-men so marvelously wrought that they look as if they needed but the chess-board to become ahve and play the game themselves ; — and if their souls correspond with their faces, a very terrible game they would make of it !

The Siamese Pagoda in this same Building was brought from Siam in parts, and afterwards put together here. It adjoins the various exhibits of Great Britam, and looks like a rich Oriental casket amongst a dingy array of shopcases. It is chiefly red and gold, and the square pillars that support the curved roof are set with sparkling bits of looking-glass in a pattern. It is full of lovely things ; — yards and yards of dull red silk, hand-painted in a sort of stenciling of gold and black, which must have been the work of years ; great bowls of silver and brass, chased and hammered beautifully, and of exquisite shape ; jewelry, said to be two centuries old, and either exceedingly rich and massive — precious stones set in bands of solid gold — or else bracelets and rings of most fine and delicate workmanship. Outside the Pagoda are some gigantic tusks, beautiful drums, gongs and other musical instruments, all of strange shapes and sounds. The carvings in ivory are wonderful. Two tusks are wrought with Httle figures of men and animals, until they look like lacework, something after the manner of the Chinese. There is much inlaid work, and some landscapes done in mother-of-pearl, quaint and lovely. There are also some small models of houses in Bangkok, with wide verandas and peaked roofs, looking cool and luxurious. No matter how long I stayed in this Pagoda, I was sure to catch a ghmpse of something new every time I tried to go away ; so that I could get off only by promising myself to return later ; — and I kept the promise.

But there was no necessity of leaving the Orient in the meanwhile. I crossed over to the East Indian Room, a httle further north. There is some horn-work there, which — could the unfortunate animal from which the raw material was taken but see it now, would ravish him with delight, and he would bless his slayer. Cabinets and screens, chairs and tables of teak-wood, carved elaborately and inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl, so that you stand before them fascinated : strange idols, rich embroideries, magic boxes, hangings in colors such as those that flood the sky at sunset — not flaming, but subdued ; these are a few of the wonders to be found there.

In the Bulgarian exhibit is a native, ready to answer any questions, in pretty English, spoken with a soft, slow voice. He was explaining, while I was there, the dress of a Bulgarian village girl to a superciHous old lady from the West. The dress was of soft material, in dull reds and blues, trimmed with heavy lace. " It takes our girls many, many years to make so much lace as is on this dress," he said ; " it is all done by hand, careful and slow." " A foolish way of wasting time!" interrupted the old lady, with decision. " There ain't no manner of use in spending years making lace, when you can buy what'U do just as well for ten cents a yard." " It is not that," answered the Bulgarian ; " our girls love so much to make beautiful things. The things are never like one another ; each girl makes her own ; and it is handed down for many hundred years, sometimes. Always it is beautiful. Yoic make everything by machine, you always in great hurry, begin something else, never have enough time. Perhaps you right ; but our way good, too."

It is true. Too much of our life is spent in making hundreds of things just Hke hundreds of others. These Eastern people spend their life in making one thing which, when done, is beautiful, and contains something personal — something which makes it unlike anything else, whether by variation of pattern, or combination of color, or design of carving. And they love what they do, and enjoy doing it. Do we ?

However, I found beauty enough at Tiffany's rooms to keep me absorbed for a long while — judging by the clock, that is. Graceful vases of polished and fretted gold and silver, mighty loving-cups, deep-colored jewels gleaming mystically with interior fire. Here is the wonderful Magnolia Vase, Aztecan in shape, and most beautifully enamelled in a design both graceful and harmonious, and of which every portion is American. The hue of the pavilion containing the Tiffany exhibit is a delicate yellow, and the design and decorations are in perfect taste. Besides the dining and toilet sets, the necklaces, rings and tiaras, the lamps and statuettes in the main department, several beautifully-furnished rooms are shown, and a most exquisite little chapel. It is full of dim, rich light, that enters by stained-glass windows, and radiates softly from several great candles, and a couple of swinging lamps — which latter, however, seem more to draw the light towards them than to send it forth. There is everywhere a feeling of subdued color, in which the great silver crucifix on the altar gleamingly defines itself. On the right hand, a great bronze bell or gong — I am not sure which — in an alcove, hangs globelike, divided into hemispheres, the lower stationary, and the upper, which is raised about an inch, swinging from a great chain. It is a gracious spot ; and the many sounds of the Great Building, entering here as softly as the light, deepen and grow faint, like the breathing of an organ.

In the exhibit from the Netherlands is much of the beautiful Delft ware. Tiles and large placques and plates, all in the lovely blue and white, bearing land and sea-scapes, where windmills and idly floating sloops and fishing-smacks look idly picturesque. Denmark has a collection of articles once belonging to Hans Christian Anderson ; his desk, chair, coal-scuttle, some Danish newspapers ; and on a table is a small vase containing a handful of snowdrops. There are also several of his manuscripts, written in a small, rather clear handwriting, with many corrections. But all these things do not help me to know him half so well as one of his shortest stories.

This is far from being all that is worth seeing in the Big Building. Hardly ! But if you exercise your imagination, you may be able to form some idea of the myriad things undescribed, by these few samples. Besides, I shall come back here again.

IV

Pluto, the god of Mines, has a Building all to himself. It would, perhaps, have been more appropriate to have placed his exhibit in a vast cavern underground, where the treasures in his possession might have been shown as they appear before being carried into the light of day. As it is, the mystery and romance of Mining are lost ; and there remains only the commercial product, — pieces of stone piled in heaps on long tables ; slabs of beautiful polished marbles ; granite and quartz ; huge lumps of coal — though the biggest lump — and what a lump it is ! — is to be found in the Washington State Building. Much of the display is interesting, even to persons who have nothing to do with the industry ; and it is edifying to see how ordinary and unassuming are the bits of rock containing the precious metals. I should never have thought of picking any of them up — except perhaps to throw at a chicken scratching up the treasures of my garden, as it is the sinful habit of chickens to do.

The Fairest of the Fair, yj

Nevertheless, the rough ores are far prettier than the "Justice" in the Montana section, which is made out of the silver manufactured by that commonwealth, — the Ada Rehan "Justice," shining like a new nickel-plated skate, and perched on a gilded globe, with a pair of scales in her hand filled with what appears to be real money. In her right hand she brandishes a sword. Altogether, she is ugly, ungraceful and tiresome. I hoped Miss Rehan has been spared the pain of beholding her ; otherwise, she must have felt Hke taking a hint from Buffalo Bill's cowboys, who, it is said, stumbling unexpectedly, one evening, on Proctor's mounted " Cowboy " in front of the Transportation Building, were so stimulated by the spectacle that they set to work then and there to pry it off its pedestal and pitch it into the Lagoon. Most unfortunately they were interrupted in the execution of their public-spirited design by the peremptory orders of Buffalo Bill himself, supported by an army of Columbian Guards.

Near the centre of the Mines Building is an exhibit from the South African Diamond Fields, showing how they wash out the stones from

38 The Fairest of th^ Fair,

the clay, and cut and polish them for the market. There is always a jam of people at this spot, but by being patient, I managed to see it all. The grey clay in which the diamonds are found is put into a machine which swirls it about and pours water over it, until the clay is dissolved and most of it washed away. What remains is carefully searched by one man after another until the stones — looking very unlike diamonds — are all found. They are then given over to another set of men, who do the cutting and polishing, and thus bring out their interior fire, and make them gleam hke stars. The chief figures in the prehminary department are two Zulus, one a perfect giant, and both powerful, well-made men. Sometimes they wear their native costume — a strip of cloth round the loins, and beautiful necklaces, armlets and fringes showing bright against their ebony skins. At other times they wear a Chicago flannel shirt and overalls. The bigger of the two is said to have assegaied twelve men, and he has a club with him that looks awful.

West of the Mines Building is the be-painted Transportation, filled with models or examples of every means used in the world for getting about over land and sea, — from a period reaching back to the time when people simply walked, down to the present moment, or a little beyond it. The figures of the naked, barefoot savages, plodding along with no artificial assistance whatever, except a stick cut in the forest, are in the South American section ; but I suppose this was the way we all began. Next you find them on horseback, with no saddle, but with a bridle made of a looped leather thong. Near by are a couple of llamas, with pack saddles on their backs, and also a vaquero in picturesque clothes, seated on a horse decked out with a gorgeous bit and saddle. There is an ox-cart with solid wooden wheels, and a kind of palanquin to be carried by asses. Not far from this are the newest and most beautiful carriages made in America, England, France and Germany. Coaches, Tilburies, Broughams and Dog-Carts ; heavy and dignified ceremonial carriages, and the lightest of American trotting sulkies stand side by side. In the British section is a coach belonging to the Lord Mayor of London, and a beauty it is ! Everything about it is rich, solemn, graceful and in keeping — from the coat-of-arms or crest on the door-panel to the dark hning within.

In the extension of the Main Building there are numberless railway engines, and, indeed, entire trains. England and Germany and France show their first, second and third class carriages, all in sections, and the first class most elaborately fitted up. There are American vestibule and dining cars too, and just outside the Building stand the first engine and train of coaches ever run in America. The engine is an astonishing-looking little thing, with a very long neck and queer machinery ; and the coaches are very much like the old Rocky Mountain mail coaches — with seats on top, inside, in front and behind. It is a worn and battered little train, and as unusable-looking as the Columbus caravels on the Lake.

In the " Cook's Tours " Pavilion are models about three feet in length of the dahabeyas used on the Nile. They have also a model of some Egyptian temple, which is explained to the visitor by a couple of turbaned and caftaned Egyptians. The elder of the two has been a guide on a dahabeya for many years, and has a glorious, many-lettered name which