Leginska

A great gentleman once stated that, since the exercise of power is beyond doubt the only sensible gratification that the world affords to the thoughtful, there were but two goals which seriously attracted his ambition--to be Emperor of the Russians, or to conduct a symphony orchestra. In the course of history, women have entertained and indeed achieved desires very similar. They have commanded knights and serfs, taken walled towns and sat throned among their armies. Yet, few women have ever risen to lead orchestras. Last week, in Manhattan, one did. Miss Ethel Leginska, famed pianist, composer, conducted the New York Symphony in Carnegie Hall.

Trig, bobbed, black-velveted, she waved the baton, now in her right hand, now in her left, worked furiously at the climaxes; sometimes she shook her fist at the trombones. After every number, the house burst into bravos. Early in the evening a huge wreath, surmounted by the British and American flags, was placed on the stage. Her admirers came to praise. Repeatedly she tried to make the orchestra rise and bow with her, but that organization of astute and courteous musicians remained obstinately seated. They knew that Miss Leginska believed herself to be experiencing the only sensible gratification which the world affords to the thoughtful. They did not want anyone to think that, had Miss Leginska merely said to them: "Gentlemen, I wish you would play the Oberon overture, Beethoven's Seventh Symphony and the Meistersinger overture," the performance might not have been so very different.