Then a new name came across the world, with a new radiance. Not with the glow of Duse’s halo, nor with the threat of Bernhardt’s heat-lightning, but with the radiance of the Northern Lights it shone above the horizon.... _Mary Garden!_ Her magics have this kind of splendor. She has brought a new temper into the drama—something not Latin, not English. Duse could never be unnatural; Bernhardt can never be unsophisticated, un-French; English actresses can seldom be unconventional. But Mary Garden.... She brings a sharp new ecstasy of life, an inexorable sadness of love; she brings an energy that is grace and a calm that is energy; she brings a frankness that is mystery. There is something Norsk about Mary Garden. In her the pure metal of the mind seems to have been annealed by an Oriental fire, adding to it a passion without vehemence. There is something unconquered about her, as if she came from that land where the sun shines at midnight; from that race which never made for itself a beneficent God. I don’t know where to begin to write about Mary Garden’s art. There is art within art within art, and then there is Mary Garden. First of all, she seems to be the only singer who knows that all the arts come from the same source and follow the same laws. Critics love to say that pure song and pure music do not express human emotion, although drama, poetry, painting and sculpture do. What logic! Pure music and pure song express exactly what drama, poetry, painting and sculpture express. But none of them expresses human emotion; they express the _source_ of human emotion. To express the emotions of life is to live; to express the life of emotions is to make art. I wish I could tell beautifully what a great creative artist Mary Garden is. It is one thing for the artist to create a character within the outlines definitely or indefinitely drawn by the composer; to put himself in the place of the character and act as he would act. But the creative artist _takes the character to himself_ and then creates from his imagination in his own image—the image of his soul. The more universal the artist, the greater his power to reveal his soul in different images. What an infinite thing Mary Garden has shown her soul to be: Thaïs, the Jongleur, Monna Vanna, Carmen, Grisélidis, Tosca, Mélisande, Salome!