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A:Magazine- y 

Musical Literature 4 



Music. M 


tie who to us would sing, 
Not very far from earth should 

m& heavenly Messenger must 
His gospel to our door. 

Mary G. Slocum. 

Lap me in soft Lydian airs, 
Married to immortal verse, 
Such as the meeting soul may 


In notes, with many a winding 

Of linked sweetness long drawn 
out. Milton. 

O Flower of song, bloom on and 
make forever 
The world more fair and sweet. 


__— APRIL, 1895 




i THE Mustcat VISITOR 


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Teacher of Plano for Beginners. 

Reasonable Rates. 



Teacher of Piano 

96 Auburn Ave., City. 



Voice, Piano and Guitar, 

Residence, 234 Findlay St., Cincinnati, 0. 

Teachers of Piano 

221 Mound St., Cincinnati. 


Teacher of Piano 
275 Walnut St., City. 

‘Teacher of Piano, 
762 Gilbert Ave., Walnut Hills, Cin’ti. 

Music Studio. 

Teacher of Piano 


Teacher of Piano 

427 W. 7th ST., CINCINNATI, O. 



600 McMillan 8t., Walnut Hills. 

Teacher of Voice 

213 East Fifth St., City. 


Teacher of Piano 
643 Vine St., Cincinnati. 



Vocal and Instrumental Music, 

123 W. 7th St., Flat 1, Cincinnati. 

‘Feacher of Piano, 
43 Crown St., Walnut Hills, Cin'ti. 


675 Westminster Ave., 
Walnut Hills, City. 


Mandolin, Violin, Piano, 
Guitar, Zither, Banjo, and 

8. E. Cor. 7th and Race Sts., Cincinnati. | 

Open for Concert and Oratorio Engagements. 

245 Findlay St., Cincinnati, 0. 


Teacher of Piano 

2°75 Walnut Street, CINCINNATI, O. 



| 1032 McMillan St., Mt. Auburn, Cin’tl. 

Teacher of Piano 

Certificate bo of 1511 Eastern Ave. 

College of Music. 

Teacher of Voice 


7 Oak Ave., Walnut Hills. 

Taught by a new system; publisher of over fifty 
selections for guitar and mandolin; 10 cents a copy. 

Send stamp for catalogue. 
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279 W. Seventh St. 


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138 Laurel St., - Cincinnati. 



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95 E. 4th St., Cincinnati. 








Open for Engagement for Violin Solo at Concerts. 

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293 W. Ninth St., Cincinnati, 0. 

ee ee 
A special circular and list of 
our large and varied stock of mu- 
sic for Easter will be sent free to 
anyone desiring the same. Our 
Easter music for 1895 is espe- 
cially fine, and consists of solos 
and anthems for the choir; a 
responsive service, and a choice 
collection of carols for the Sun- 
day-School. ‘Send your address 
and get the list. 

200 Wabash Avenue. 13 East 16th Street. 



What tidings of reverent gladness are voiced by the bells that ring 
A summons to men to gather, today, in the courts of the King. 

He is risen!” O glorious message! ‘‘ He lives, who once was dead!” 
And hearts that were heavy with sorrow hear, and are comforted. 

We come to our dear Lord’s altar. What brightness greets us there! 

The winter’s gloom has vanished, and beauty 1s everywhere. 

From the censer-cups of the lilies rise scents of myrrh and balm, 

And the soul, like a lark, soars heavenward, winged with the Easter psalm 

Alleluia! the choir is chanting, like a jubilant, mighty voice; 

The Lord is risen!—is risen! Rejoice, rejoice, rejoice! 

From the tomb in which men laid him the stone has been rolled away, 
And lo! the Christ they sing of is here in our midst today! 

O beautiful, beautiful lilies, what truths you typify! 

You seemed to die in the autumn, and yet you did not die, 
And on this Easter morning, while exultant voices sing, 
You repeat to all men the ean of the miracle of Spring! 

O radiant morning of Easter, dawn on all souls today; 
Let the light of Christ’s glorified presenc~ drive darkness and doubt away. 
From the lips of the lilies learn we the truth of life and of death, 
And say, ‘‘ My Redeemer liveth!” with glad and reverent breath. 
Esen E. Rexroro. 


‘THE Visiror regrets its inability to give the whole of this 

most interesting story of two faithful lives, but want of 
space forbids, and it will do the best it can in abridging it 
for its readers: 

The Webb girls had ‘‘led the singin’”’ for forty years in 
the only church in Waterford. They led it still when Maria 
was sixty-seven and Ann was sixty-nine years old. 

It never seemed to occur to Ann and Maria Webb that 
their voices must have lost their youthful fullness and fresh- 
ness and purity when they were old women. Poor old 
Maria did not seem to know how harsh, and shrill, and dis- 
cordant her shrieking soprano was, and Ann was heedless 
or ignorant of her broken, wavering, and husky alto notes. 
Chey did not know that they sang out of time and tune. 

The Webb girls had never taken kindly to modern church 
music, and it had never commended itself to Elder Stone. 

**] don’t call such tunes spiritual,” said Ann, ‘‘an’ | couldn't 
get up and sing praises in that hip-pi-ty-hop-pi-ty style. | 
don't believe in preaching agin dancin’ in the pulpit, and 
then singin’ dancin’ tunes in the pews. It ain’t consistent.” 

The pastor of the church, Rev. Elijah Stone, sharing this 
view, selected the hymns accordingly. They were hymns 
and tunes one seldom hears now, for this church had not 
changed its hymn-book for half a century. It was a novel 
experience to Occasional summer visitors from the city to 
hear Ann and Maria Webb sing ‘‘ Blow ye the trumpet, 
blow,” or ‘‘ The old ship of Zion.” 

But Elder Stone died, and then with a new and younger 
minister a change in the makeup of the choir was felt to be 
necessary. The gossip of the village (there always is one in 
every village) took special delight in breaking the news (in 
gossip’s usual considerate way) to the ‘‘ two girls.” 

‘*They’re goin’ to have you an’ Ann stop leadin’ the 
singin’! ” 

Maria dropped into a chair, while Ann, who was seated 
af her carpet-loom, whirled around suddenly with a half- 
uttered cry of pain and amazement. 


Cincinnati, April, 1895. 


Nancy expected a violent outburst of indignation, but 
there was none from either of the sisters. Their white faces 
and quivering lips touched the heart of the garrulous old 
woman, whose indignation had not been feigned. 

‘I’m awful sorry for you, girls,”’ she said, ‘‘an’ | think it's 
a burnin’ shame.”’ 

**Oh, it’s all right, | guess,” said Ann, in a strange, chok- 
ing voice. ‘‘If they don’t want us to lead in the singin’ any 
more,we kin—we—kin—leave the choir.”’ 

‘It won’t seem like goin’ to meetin’ at all with you an’ 
M’ria out o’ the choir.” 

‘*] hope no one goes to meetin’ just to hear the singin’,”’ 
replied Ann, gravely. ‘‘What they goin’ to do for a choir?” 

‘*Oh, they're goin’ to get up a new one, with Sally Carter 
at the head of it. She's goin’ to sing solos all by herself 
every Sunday, an’ duets, as they call ‘em, an’ we're goin’ to 
have new hymn-books, an’ what they call ‘a service of song’ 
every Sunday night before preachin’. Oh, they're tearin’ 
down and buildin’ up agin with a vengeance. Here that 
Sally Carter ain't even a member of the church.” 

It had once come to the ears of the Webb sisters that 
Sally Carter had ‘‘made fun of their singing,’’ mimicking 
them at a village party, and that she should supplant them 
now was hard, indeed, to bear. Maria’s hot indignation 
soon found voice. 

‘*Let ’em git Sally Carter,’’ she said, ‘‘an’ let her screech 
out her solos if they want her to. | guess Ann an’ me kin 
live if we don’t lead the singin’ no more; that’s all I've got 
to say. If 1 couldn't sing any better’n that Sally Carter, 'd—"’ 

‘«Come, come, Maria, don't say anything un-Christian, or 
anything you'll be sorry for afterward,’ said Ann. ‘‘I reckon 
the pastor’ll be around to see us about it.” 

When young Mr. Dale called during the day the Webb 
sisters received him with a degree of dignity and courtesy 
he had not thought them capable of. Ann herself broached 
the subject of the change in the choir. 

‘*It's all right,’ she said, calmly. ‘‘We ain't no wish to 
be stumblin’ blocks in the way of the buildin’ up of the cause 
of Zion in this church and among this people; an’ if others 
kin sing better’n we kin, an’ the church'll be helped dy their 
singin’, we're glad to give way. We kin see that even ina 
little thing like this we might be keepin’ the gospel from 
havin’ free course here in Waterford, so we're ready to give 
"Tastes Dale had been led to expect words of angry protest 
and reproach, and this gentle speech of Ann’s touched and 
rebuked him. He said something about this being the ‘‘right 
spirit,”” and about the sisters deserving their well-earned rest 
from choir duties, when Ann said: 

‘We ain't never felt it any hardship to sing unto the 
Lord. We've done it for the glory of His name, an’ if we 
ain't done it as well as some might, we've done the best we 
could. It ain't never been any hardship.” 

But it was a hardship, a cruel hardship, to be asked to give 
up this lifelong labor of love and duty. Pastor Dale realized 
suddenly, as he had never realized before, how dear this serv- 
ice was to these simple, unworldly old singers, and he went 
away humbled and rebuked. * * * 

Sally Carter went by the Webb house Saturday evening 
on her way to the choir-rehearsal at the church. It was not 
yet dark. Ann Webb was standing at her gate. 

‘*Good evening, Sally,” said Ann. 

‘‘Good evening, Miss Webb,” replied Sally, and went 
quickly on her way. 

nee ——_ nn 


Sally was a very pretty girl, the prettiest in Waterford, and 
she had a very sweet and pure soprano voice. She was fun- 
loving and impulsive, and thoughtless as such persons usu- 
ally are. She had mimicked and made fun of the Webb 
girls’ singing, but she had not done so in any spirit of malice. 
Her mother and Maria Webb had been girls together, and the 
dearest of friends. Maria had been with Mrs. Carter when 
she died. Sally suddenly remembered this. She remem- 
bered a good many things she had not thought of before. 
So many other things had occupied her time and mind dur- 
ing the past week that she had not thought much about how 
the Webb girls would feel over her supplanting them in the 
choir. But she thought of nothing else all the way to the 
church, after she had seen Ann Webb. Ann’s pale, solemn 
face haunted Sally. Maria had come to the open door of the 
little house with a face sadder and paler even than Ann's, 
and Maria had a solemnly reproachful look that went right 
to Sally's heart. She was heedless and impulsive, but she 
had a very tender heart, after all. 

The others who had been chosen to sing with Sally were 
waiting for her at the church. They were all young, like 
Sally, and they met her with a great deal of chattering and 
laughing, to which Sally did not respond with her usual 
gayety. She looked up toward the singers’ gallery. There, 
side by side, were the two chairs in which the Webb girls 
had sat for forty years. Sally remembered how they had 
stood there in the little gallery, and sung so tenderly over 
her beloved mother’s coffin. 

‘*You ain’t half singing, Sally Carter,” said Lucy Leake, 
when they began their rehearsal. ‘‘Old Ann Webb could 
sing most as good as that; won't she glare at you tomorrow 
when you get up to lead in her place? | declare | wouldn't 
want to be in your shoes! They say the Webb girls feel 

Sally choked suddenly, and began coughing very hard, 
with her handkerchief to her face. 

‘*Well, | don’t care,” said Hetty Rice, ‘‘it just 7s rather 
hard on the Webb girls to be pushed out like this when 
they've sung here for forty years, and their grandfather Webb 
built this church almost entirely with his own money, and 
their mother and father sung here all their lives. It just we// 
be hard. Ann and Maria to sit in any place but up here in 
the singers’ gallery on these two chi 4irs! I’m real sorry for 

‘*They say they don’t care,” said Ben Leake. 

‘‘Don't care!” exclaimed Hetty; ‘‘my mother was over 
there today, and she says Maria Webb has grown ten years 
older this week. I guess they do care. They can’t help 
caring. They feel just dreadful !”’ 

Ben Leake had begun to make some reply to this when 
Sally Carter suddenly burst into a passionate fit of weeping. 

‘“‘It zs too bad,” she cried between her sobs, when the 
other singers had gathered quickly around her. ‘‘ Poor old 
Ann, and poor old Maria Webb! It’s a wicked shame for 
us to be making them feel so. | cou/dn't get up and sing be- 
fore them tomorrow. Oh, | couldn't, | couldn't! | saw 
poor old Ann on my way here, and she looked so miserable 
and so sad! They're two as good old women as ever 
breathed the breath of life, and I—I—-I'm not good at all. 
I'm wicked and mean to /fhink of wanting to take their 
places, and | won't do it, | won't, | won't!” 

rhe other girls were tearful now. Big Ben Leake, who 
was desperately in love with Sally, looked very solemn. 

Suddenly Sally jumped to her feet. 

‘I tell you what we'll do! We'll all go down to the 
Webb girls’ house and tell them we want them to take their 
old places in the choir, and we'll sing in the chorus if they 
want us to, or only with the congregation. It’s what we 
ought to do. Come on, let’s go right off and tell them so!” 

Ten minutes later the new choir of the Waterford church 
silently entered the Webb girls’ gate. It had grown dark 
suddenly. Ann had gone into the house and the door was 

closed. But the windows were open, and through the closed 
blinds they could hear the wheezy notes of Ann's old melo- 
deon. She was gently touching its yellow keys, and two 
old voices were singing: 

‘* On Jordan’s stormy banks | stand, 
And cast a wishful eye 
To Canaan’s fair and happy land, 
Where my possessions lie.” 

The two old voices and the wheezy notes of the old melo- 
deon died away into silence. Sally Carter knocked lightly 
on the door; Ann opened it. The young people filed into 
the house. 

‘*O Miss Ann, Miss Maria,” began Sally, quickly, and al- 
most hysterically, ‘‘we want you to come back to the 
choir to take your old places. e'll sing with you if you'll 
let us, but we want you to take your old places and lead the 
singing. It wouldn't be Waterford Church without you. 
Nothing can induce me to take your place as soprano, Miss 
Maria. I'm sorry | ever thought of such a thing. We're 
going around to tell Mr. Dale that we don’t intend to take 
your places, so you'll have to come back, or there won't be 
anyone to lead the singing.” 

So Ann and Maria Webb stood in their old places on the 
following Sunday, and sang as usual, but their voices were 
broken and husky, and their eyes were full of tears, although 
there were smiles on their faces. Sally Carter and the other 
younger singers sat with the congregation; but it had been 
arranged that they should rehearse with the Webb girls and 
all sing together on the following Sunday. 

When the next Sunday came Ann and Maria Webb were 
singing the songs of Paradise, and Sally Carter, tearful and 
heavy-eyed, sang brokenly over their coffins in the little 
church in Waterford. Ann had taken a heavy cold early 
in the week, pneumonia suddenly developed, and on Friday 
she died. ‘here had always been heart trouble in the fam- 
ily, and when they told Maria that Ann was dead she gave a 
little gasping cry, pressed her hand to her heart, and spoke 
no more, and the two old singers went on their way together, 
rejoicing and singing, to the open portal of the Cate Beau- 

[ Continued.] 

H's pupil and successor was Giovanni Maggini, working 

probably between 1590 and 1640. His violins were 
not great improvements on those of his teacher. Attention 
was directed to Maggini’s productions by De Beriot, who 
used one of his fiddles in concert work. Being played by 
so great an artist, the price of this make was increased con- 

It is to the old town of Cremona, in Lombardy, north Italy, 
that we must look for the culmination of violin- making. 
Cremona was, in those days, a center of musical and artistic 
activity. Numerous wealthy monasteries in the neighbor- 
hood afforded ample financial encouragement to musi- 
cians, artists and instrument-makers. This circumstance, 


combined with another equally favorable, the ample supply 
of the proper material in the immediate neighborhood, gave 
full scope to the Cremona school of violin-makers. 
Cremona, at this time a populous city of some four miles 
in circumference, was quite an ancient place. The time of 
its founding is unknown. It flourished before,the Christian 

nie —- ma aa 

era, and was for some time the home of Virgil, and is men- 
tioned by him in one of bis poems. 

The founder of the Cremona school of violin-makers was 
Andrew Amati, but concerning him little can be said. To 
quote Mr. Hart, ‘‘These men, like their brothers in art, the 
painters in olden times, began to live when they were dead, 
and their history thus passed without record.” Amati was 
born about 1520. His instruments do not show an advance 
on those of wo my da Salo, of Brescia, though it is possible 
that Amati was his pupil. 


Andrew had two sons, Anthony and Jerome, of which the 
latter was by far the more original. These brothers worked 
together contemporaneously with Da Salo, and though their 
violin labels bear the names of both, the connoisseur can ac- 
curately distinguish the works of the one from the other. 
Jerome’s violins show an appreciable advance in grace and 
beauty of form, as well as in volume of tone. 

The highest point of perfection reached by the Amati fam- 
ily was attained by Jerome’s son, Nicholas, who lived be- 
tween 1596 and 1684. Taking the model of the previous 
Amatis he improved it in proportions, in finish, and in power 
and intensity of tone. The design he finally adopted, after 
years of experiment, though modified by his successor, 
Stradivarius, associated beauty and elegance of outline with 
great sweetness of tone. His materials were chosen with 
careful discrimination, and his workmanship showed the 
master hand. 

The culmination of Nicholas Amati’s work was in a large 
model, which, from its superior excellence, has been called 
the ‘‘Amati grand.” It was on this model that Stradivarius, 
in all probability a pupil of Amati, reached the apex of the 
violin-maker'’s art. 

Antonius Stradivarius (1644 or '49—1737) is a name be- 
fore which all true lovers of the violin or its music bow with 
admiration. In his works the violin took its final shape, 
and the chief efforts of violin-builders of modern times have 
been to copy his design and to rediscover his secrets. The 
model today is as he left it—as Mr. Payne says, ‘‘the most 
accomplished maker can invent nothing better, and the dull- 
est workman, following his model, can make a tolerable fid- 

Stradivarius found in the ‘‘Amati 
grand” a model, the general princi- 

les of which were correct; and tak- 
ing this design of his teacher as his 
basis, his own inventive genius and 
originality found the weak places 
and made them perfect. In detail, 
these improvements consisted in 
lowering the arch and flattening the 
curve; in strengthening the frame- 
work, 7. ¢., the corner blocks and 
ribs; in finding the true inclination 
of the sound holes; in straighten- 
ing the scroll, and in fixing the 
shape of the bridge, this latter im- 
provement alone being of sufficient 
value to have made him famous. 

The thirty years following 1698 
was the period most productive of 
Stradivarius’ best instruments. The 
latter portion of his life showed 


Jesu) and Antonius Stradi- 

some deterioration in the quality of 


his workmanship, but this might be expected, perhaps, in 
the work of a man who stood at his bench till nearly four- 
score years and ten. There still exists one or more of his 
violins, bearing the date 1736. 

Of the hundreds of instruments turned out by Stradivarius 
in his seventy years of work, only about two hundred are 
known to exist at this day, while others, perhaps, remain in 
obscurity. To some of the best of his violins have been 
given names, such as ‘‘ Messiah,” ‘‘ Dolphin,” ‘‘Maid,”’ and 
‘*King,’”’ and by these names they are known to the violin 

Stradivarius’ instruments were highly appreciated during 
his lifetime, and many were the orders he executed at good 
prices for titled heads. This, with his activity and industry, 
brought him a fortune that made him the envy of his neigh- 

His energies were not confined to violins, tenors and 
basses, but guitars, lutes, lyres, and mandolins came from 
his busy hand; and not only the instruments, but their 
fittings and cases were made with the utmost care and ar- 
tistic skill. 

Of him Longfellow beautifully says: 

The instrument on which he played 
Was in Cremona’s workshop made, 

By a great master of the past, 
Ere yet was lost the art divine; 
Fashioned of maple and of pine, 

That in Tyrolean forests vast 

Had rocked and wrestled with the blast; 
Exquisite was it in design, 

A marvel of the lutist’s art, 
Perfect in each minutest part; 

And in its hollow chamber thus, 
The maker from whose hands it came 
Had written his unrivaled name, 

** Antonius Stradivarius.” 

But there are other makers that demand our attention, 
and we must leave this, from the violin lover's standpoint, 
the most attractive of men simply stopping for a quo- 
tation from Dr. Joachim, 
than whom there is no 
better authority on this 
subject. Says he: ‘‘None 
of the celebrated makers 
exhibit the union of sweet- 
ness and power in so pre- 
eminent a degree as Giu- 
seppe Guarnerius (del 

varius, and | must pro- 
nounce for the latter as 
my chosen favorite. * * * 
Stradivarius had the more 
unlimited capacity for ex- 
pressing the most varied 
accents of feeling.” 
Contemporaneous with 
Stradivarius was a family 
named Guarnerius, one of 
1745), achieved great fame 
from the excellence of his instruments. This man, in order 
to distinguish his works from those of a cousin bearing 
the same name, generally added to his name on the tickets 
inserted in his instruments the cross and the letters ‘‘I. H. 
S.” These are supposed to be the initials of some reli- 
gious society of which he was a member. From this addi- 
tion to his name he is known as Guarnerius ‘‘del Jesu.” 
His grandfather, Andrew, was a pupil of Nicholas Amati, 
but the instruments of the elder Guarnerius and those of 
three of his descendants are not particularly noticeable; the 
fourth, Joseph, ‘‘del Jesu,"” whom | have mentioned above, 
turned out.some violins which were almost the equals of 
Stradivarius when at his best. 

ener sinesirt- annette ee eee mrenerr 


His model was not quite so large nor the middle bouts 
quite so long as with Stradivarius, but the shape is most 
elegant, and no fault could be found with the wood or var- 
nish. It is even said that some of his best specimens are 
more pleasing to the eye than those of Stradivarius. 

But during his later years there was a remarkable change. 
The wood became defective, the work careless and the var- 
nish poor. The exact cause for this decadence is not known, 
although a very pretty story is frequently told, which, 
fortunately for the reputation Joseph, seems to be founded 
more on fancy than on fact. 

The story runs that he was an impecunious and idle ras- 
cal, and that he was imprisoned for some unknown cause; 
also that the jailor’s daughter supplied him with rude tools 
and material, and bought the varnish from various makers 
who were in the enjoyment of their liberty. 

This would have made a pretty good story as it was, but 
the romancers have added additional details. This fair dam- 
sel, so we are told, taking pity on Joseph’s condition, took 
out the completed fiddles and hawked them about, selling 
them for whatever was offered, and buying with the pro- 
ceeds necessities and comforts for the prisoner. 

Unfortunately for 
the story, the ar- 
chives of Cremona 
make no record of 
a prisoner named 
Guarnerius, and 
for an idle man he 
turned out a re- 
markable number 
of valuable violins. 
This tale has ob- 
tained so much 
credence that the 
rougher of the 
“del Jesu” 
~fiddles are 
called ‘‘Prison 

It must have been a peculiar combination of circumstances 
that led him to send out inferior violins at this time of life, 
but the above story is admirably concocted to fill the 

Another peculiar thing is, that after this poor work he 
made at least one violin, the excellence of which has hardly 
been equaled, save by Stradivarius. This is the one played 
so long and loved so dearly by Paganini, and at his death 
bequeathed to his native city, Genoa, where it still lies in 
its glass case. This noble instrument was made in 1743, 
and its maker died two years afterward. 

Stradivarius’ best pupil was Charles Bergonzi. He 
worked during the thirty years following 1720, and for a 
short time occupied Stradivarius’ house, after the death of 
the latter. But few of his violins are in existence, and these 
fall short of his great master’s model. 

These, then, were the names that formed the great quar- 
tette of Cremonese violin-makers: Nicholas Amati, Antonius 
Stradivarius, Joseph Guarnerius, I. H. S., and Charles Ber- 

There were several other prominent pupils of Stradivarius, 
and a host of imitators and self-constituted pupils; but as it 
is my purpose to mention only the most prominent makers, 
| must recommend those desirous of pursuing further this 
interesting study to one of the several exhaustive volumes 
that are devoted to the subject, wherein even the minor 
copyist receives ample treatment. English, German and 
French writers have collected much information on this 
subject, but it seems to have been neglected by American 
writers. Probably the slight demand has been amply met 
by the foreign authors. 

‘ (To be continued.) 




T= generations sat in the soft glow of the deep crim- 

son lamp-shade that mellowed everything in the little 
parlor. There was one daughter seated at the piano, sing- 
ing sweet and low; she most of all was glorified by the 
ruddy rays from the translucent paper that fell over her. 
There was the mother, and beside her sat the mother's 
mother, near the circumference of the halo, the one listening 
with a glow of pride, the other to whom the girl’s voice was 
new—the grandmother was a visitor at the house—listening 
as one who hears a voice calling in a lonesome place. She 
sat there thinking, thinking, thinking, did this dear old soul, 
of a day when she, too, had sat at the piano herself, so 
proudly, and had sung the tender ballads of that bygone 
day with a voice full of passion, a deep contralto voice, one 
that touched the heart in its most sacred depths, when the 
strong, clear notes were struck, and then broke into a plead- 
ing tremolo in the upper register. 

Fifty years ago that grand dame’s voice had thrilled hearts 
now dust, or worse than dust—hearts that were numb to 
tender things—and there was borne in the burthen of her 
songs one message, that of love—even before her heart had 
known its meaning her voice had spoken love. The voice 
of the girl sitting at the piano was like her grandmother's 
had been. It hunted chords in the hearts of those who 
heard her and set them pulsing in echo to her own sweet 
longing that could find no words. God only knows what 
long silent, rusted chords she touched with her resonant 
voice, did this child in her grandmother’s soul. 

She sang the simple ballads of the day—‘‘Last Night,” 
‘*The Clang of the Wooden Shoon,” ‘‘Marguerite,”’ and as 
she sang, her mother, to whom the singing was an old story, 
slipped out of the room, taking all her years with her, per- 
haps, and left them together—together even in youth that 
sees visions. The young shall see visions, and the old shall 
dream dreams, saith the prophet. But when, by some 
magic of a voice or some alchemy of the soul, old age, 
which has dreamed dreams, sees in one vivid flash of light 
the dreams of the past as visions—there is wegee? 

The girl under the crimson lamp-shade turned idly from 
leaf to leaf in her portfolio and sang by piecemeal. The 
elder woman only asked that she keep on singing. She 
only asked to hear that voice, her own voice, to the ve 
quaver on C. And her dreams were all but visions, and life 
was all but youth again. There had been a wild song, one 
that the hearer did not know, and the chorus sobbed out: 

‘* Oh, is it forever, 

Love, that we must sever? 

Oh, Love, will you never 
Come back again?” 

And the story that the song told ot was of two lovers 
who had met under the roses, and had known ‘‘the love 
of a day, the love of a life.” What a whirl of fancies the 
singing of the child sent — through the aged brain! 
The music did not cease. The girl recalled a sweet old 
song, a peaceful, sorrowful ditty our grandmothers sang: 

‘Could you come back to me, Douglas, Douglas, 
In the old likeness I knew, 
I'd be faithful, so loving, Douglas, Douglas, 
Douglas tender and true.” 

The girl sang on until she thought she had tired her 
grandmother, and then, whirling around on the stool, she 
said gayly: 

‘‘Well, grandma, how do you like it? Haven't | im- 

proved in ten years!” , oe 
She arose as she said this, and without even waiting for a 

reply, as is the way of careless, thoughtless youth, she left 
the room humming: 

‘Now all men beside are to me like shadows, 
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.” 

The girl went to her mother, who she knew was attend- 
ing to some duties of the household. The words ‘‘all men 
like shadows” ran through the aged woman’s head when 
the girl left the room, and she was thankful for the child’s 
thoughtlessness which had left her alone for a moment. 
The spell of the pleading song was upon her. Her life was 
turned backward. Young faces smiled at her. She seemed 
as bold as youth—‘his shy old woman, who two hours be- 
fore had been afraid to protest against the overcharge of a 
cabman. She heard her daughter's step, and the child's in 
the room above her, and thrilled with the mesmeric enchant- 
ment of the song, she became wrapped in a consuming 
longing to try if she could not sing the old song again. 

She tiptoed about the room, and closing the doors, and 
looking over behind her she circled to the piano. 

She wished to sing out loud something that was in her 
heart; to put it into words and let it come from her lips. She 
believed that to say the aching words would ease a throb- 
bing in her heart. She could not at first bring herself to be- 
gin the song, so she fumbled among the keys, pretending to 
hunt for the air, and said the words of the first stanza to 
herself in silence. She touched the pianissimo pedal of the 
instrument. Then, as her hands upon the keys passed to 
the second bar she moaned: 

** | lay my heart on your dead heart, Douglas, 
Douglas, Douglas tender and true.” 

And when she heard the horrid croak of her own voice she 
remembered—everything. God pitied her and sent her two 
great tears—tears that were of youth that had been kept 
sacred through all the years.—Kansas City Star. 




At all the religious services in the Sistine Chapel during 

Passion Week guests are admitted only on invitation, to 
be procured by the help of magnates of one sort and another, 
and these must appear in ordinary evening dress of dark 
color, or in uniform, ladies wearing upon their heads only 
black veils. This rule is to be kept strictly. 

So | did as other tourists did—hired my dress-coat at a 
neighboring tailor’s, put on my most respectable gloves, 
then took my stand on the chill stone stairway at one 
o'clock, waiting for the doors that would open when they 
got ready, we were told. After an hour had been whiled 
away in contemplating the steel helmets, with their long 
plumes of white horsehair, worn by the Pope’s Guards, ad- 
miring somewhat misgivingly the harlequin uniform of short 
jackets and tight trousers, as they shone with alternate 
stripes of white, yellow, blue, and green, up and down the 
whole length, and curiously wondering what use they could 
or would make of their lengthened steel-pointed halberds, 
in case some of us who before long were so uncomfortably 
huddled up there at the opening, which would not open, 
should see fit to charge. At last, with a drum-and-fife band, 
some platoons of French infantry were marched into the 
building; in a few moments these were ranged all along the 
way into the royal saloon, actually lining the staircase upon 
either side. 

Then at last the signal was given, and away up the hun- 
dred slippery stone steps rushed two hundred men in swal- 
low-tailed coats. They had shivered all this while at the 
gates, and now they ran with a helter-skelter rapidity which 
made many a decorous soldier smile in those silent files be- 
tween which the absurd gantlet was passed. He who had 
the best lungs for breath was the man that entered in. And 
ever since John was distanced by Peter in his speed for the 


Sepulcher, there have always been a few who were better 
than others at that kind of thing. 

The Sistine Chapel is divided across its entire length by a 
high railing. The interior compartment is reserved for the 
Pope and cardinals. The exterior, accommodating not far 
from five or six hundred of the visitors, is without any fixed 
sittings except in one portion; that is occupied by ladies ex- 
clusively. It was my good fortune to fine one place to stand 
in, close by the barrier, so that I could have a full open view 
of all which occurred. The singers were in a gallery at just 
the convenient distance for listening. So, congratulating 
myself upon my fortunate prospects, | had nothing to do 
but wait tranquilly for an exhausting series of hours, to be 
endured before the music began. 

In order to understand the peculiar effect of this exercise 
many things besides the ‘‘ Miserere”’ itself are to be consid- 
ered. A double impression is to be produced; so, while the 
singers are carrying on in an exquisite strain of melody and 
harmony the spiritual experience of individual repentance, 
all around outside in the vast hall a sort of ingeniously con- 
structed dramatic performance is going on, representing a 
picturesque suggestion of our Lord’s crucifixion; for the 
words which the singers utter are those of the fifty-first 
Psalm—the cry of King David after he had committed his 
great sin in the murder of Uriah. We have previous to this, 
however, a series of chants, fifteen other Psalms in their 
order, called in a general way the Lamentations. All this 
is simply personal and spiritual to the believer, and comes 
naturally out of the teachings of the Lenten season. But 
the ‘‘ Miserere” is given upon good Friday, the anniversary 
of our Lord’s crucifixion. So the singular mingling of two 
things in one helps to render the service uniquely impress- 
ive; it is penitence in full view of the Redeemer’s cross. 

A triangle of lighted candles is placed out in the space in 
full view of the guests; this is declared to signify the great 
Lights of Apostolic history, together with the three Marys. 
When a candle is put out with an extinguisher on a long 
pole, as is done every time any one of the Lamentations is 
finished, that signifies that the luminaries of this wretched 
and cursed world are failing. But the candle which repre- 
sents Jesus Christ, the great Light of the world, is at the 
apex, and remains the longest; so it is kept aflame while 
the rest slowly and in turn disappear. During all these 
hours the wonderful music keeps moving on; it is sorrow 
for sin that the choir sing, it is Jesus’ suffering for sin that 
the pantomime below is showing. One's mind carries a 
perfectly clear understanding of both, and the inner feeling 
is like a communion experience, in a measure—repentant 
grief before the cross. 

Meantime the twilight is approaching, and the room be- 
gins to waver a little as the few rays flicker in through the 
casements. The open glare of day is gone, and the shad- 
ows play fantastically on the area all about you. Living 
beings and life-size figures in paintings, weirdly blended, 
appear on the walls above and below. You are heavily im- 
pressed in despite of yourself. You begin to apprehend 
some serious catastrophe. Your mind grows superstitiously 
sensitive concerning the fate of the last Light of the race, 
every time one of those candles is extinguished. Will the 
total darkness come on now, and where will men be when 
Christ is dead? And the strain of singing floats on over- 

At this point in the service the Pope and the cardinals 
swiftly leave their places, and coming out upon the floor 
kneel in line before the cross. This was my first near view 
of Pius IX; and I do not pretend to deny that we all looked 
with much interest upon the face of an august monarch like 
this, then at the height of power, with the States of the 
Church for his political realm, and the churches throughout 
the Catholic world for his spiritual dominion. He was then 
between seventy-five and eighty years old; well-preserved, 
not tall in figure, perhaps somewhat thick-set, smooth- 


faced and rather languid in manner, as might be expected of 
a sedentary and recluse man. The expression upon his 
countenance was benignant and gentle, showing in his 
features many tokens of good sense and refinement. There 
he was, within thirty feet of us, and my imagination was 
busy in thinking of the power wielded over Christendom by 
this one individual. He certainly behaved with unaffected 
dignity, and in the pageant played his part with much grace. 
He is dead now, and probably all those magnates who then 
kneeled by his side; they were elderly men, and some of 
them very aged. Where are they all to-day? How poor is 
man at the best! How swiftly do the generations come and 
go, rise into power, and then vanish away! 

The final candle was rudely torn from its place and 
thrown down. Then the silence was broken by one cry of 
deepest anguish, as if at the shock of a catastrophe; and 
after that the ‘‘Miserere’’ went forward uninterruptedly for 
about a half-hour of singing such as the world beneath the 
stars never hears elsewhere. It consists of the fifty-first 
Psalm, set to music by Gregorio Allegri two hundred and 
fifty years ago. The account of its matchless beauty and its 
wonderful effect can not be openly and intelligently rendered 
in words. I have tried before; it is beyond the power of 
my pen to do it justice, and | forbear now. 

| end my description here with a humiliating sense of my 
exceeding inability to reproduce to other minds the emo- 
tions of my own while I listened to that ‘‘ Miserere” in the 
Sistine Chapel during those historic hours. It enters into my 
life, and has become a part of my being as a recollection 
and a force. More than twenty years have passed since; 
and yet | can not speak of the occasion tamely. But | con- 
fess that it is impossible for me to transfer the experience 
without running a risk of the charge of enthusiasm. The 
peculiarity of it is that it is personal to the individual who is 
reached by it. I am confident, moreover, that much is due 
to the associations with which one is surrounded when the 
service is held. The Chapel and the choir are parts of it all. 

T= present war between China and Japan is bringing to 

the front many things not hitherto known about those 
more or less exclusive empires. The least known, and yet, 
to not a few, the most interesting subject in connection with 
their civilization is their music. 

It is well known that of the two peoples the Japanese are 
the more advanced in their civilization. Berlioz once wrote 
a severe criticism of Chinese music, intimating that it was 
beneath notice. Chinese music is anterior to Japanese music. 
The people of Japan took their music from China, and have 
improved upon it. A good many intelligent westerners 
argue that there is no music at all among the Mongol races. 
This is a mistake, certainly, as regards the Japanese. 

For one thing, the appreciation of Japanese music can 
scarcely prove an easy acquirement to Europeans. Apart 
from the feebler quality of tone of the instruments and its 
singular character, Japanese music takes extremely compli- 
cated forms, and demands the most delicate phrasing to ex- 
press its individuality. 

The experience of those who have sojourned in Japan with 
their ears as well as their eyes open, is that even in the first- 
grade tunes it requires twenty or thirty lessons to enable the 
foreigner to grasp the nuances of many of the passages. 
The best way to appreciate Japanese music is to hear it per- 
formed by native musicians without impressions or preju- 
dices of any sort. 

Modern | et music is composed almost exclusively 
for the thirteen-stringed koto. For the kokyn, or fiddle, 
the writer has not come across any independent music, but 
for the samisen—irreverently called by some the banjo of 
Japan, an instrument with which it has no affinities—there 

exists a small repertoire of songs. For the shakuhachi—a 
lipped bamboo pipe—there is also a quantity of independent 
music, which seems to have come down to the present time 
from quite different sources than those from which the koto 
music has been derived. The music for the biwa has not 
altered for over six hundred years. 

Koto music is written. It has been many times stated 
that there is no notation, but the music is so complicated that 
it would pass the wit of man to do without some form of 
musical writing. The books are never used except for ref- 
erence. By the majority of professional musicians, indeed, 
they could not be used, for they are blind, music being one 
of the recognized professions of the blind. And, second, 
the written music is the exclusive possession of the pro- 
fessionals of the highest rank. Except by very special dis- 
pensation, no pupil is ever allowed to learn in any other way 
than by listening, watching, and committing to memory. 


7 live in poverty doesn’t always mean that you live with- 
out joy. Poverty has its comical side, and is not with- 
out its blessings, as evinced by the following, clipped from 
the New York World: 

It was just about the hour of luncheon, yesterday, when 
a little, swarthy, wrinkled old hand-organ man set his ma- 
chine down in William Street, near Delmonico’s, and com- 
menced grinding, For the moment the street was clear; then 
a couple of perspiring messenger boys, glad of an excuse to 
rest, appeared. They were followed by a ragged, dirty, small 
boy of not more than five years. He was hatless and shoe- 
less. The one suspender that held his frayed knickerbockers 
in place was pieced out with a shoestring, and his grimy 
little feet showed traces of many a rough kick against the 
paving-stones. He gave one glance at the hand-organ, and 
then turned, and with a wave of his skinny little arm, yelled, 
‘*Hi, Teen! come on!” 

Teen came. She was not more than three years old. But 
one garment covered her thin little body, and she was, if 
possible, dirtier and more ragged than the boy. But her 
wizened little face was all aglow; and when the boy said, 
‘*Le’s dance,”’ she trotted out on the smooth asphalt as if she 
were a belle of the ball. And they did dance—heel and toe, 
‘*Ole Virginny”’ walk arounds, waltz, schottische, and Irish 
jig. They did them all, as the son of sunny Italy ground 
out his repertoire. The hardened little brown feet patted 
the hot asphalt in perfect time and childish grace. Inside of 
three minutes a big crowd had gathered. Staid, old, busi- 
ness men, bankers, brokers, and the clerks on their way 
from luncheon, stopped, and forgot the cares of the day as 
the little pair danced on, seemingly oblivious to their 

Finally the organ stopped, and a young man pulled off his 
straw hat, and dropping a quarter in it, passed it around. It 
brought a harvest of nickels and dimes, almost every one 
‘chipping in” something. The organ-grinder grinned ex- 
pectantly. The little girl, for the first time, noticed what an 
object of interest she had become, and with downcast eyes 
sidled up to her brother. who threw his arms about her, 
and looked as if he wondered what it was all about. Then 
the young man, with the hat full of coin, went up to 

‘It’s for you,” he said. 

‘*Gee!” said the boy. ‘‘ Hold up your apron, Teeny.” 

Teeny didn’t have any apron to hold, so she pone: up 
her dress, until her little brown knees were bare, and the 
money was emptied in. In another instant there was no 
little boy or girl in sight, the crowd was breaking away, and 
a very black and disgusted-looking organ-grinder was mut- 
tering to himself as he moved his machine to a more favored 


5 Not 

m of 
' ref- 


GOOD many years ago John Dryden celebrated in his 
A delightful ‘‘Ode on St. Cecilia’s Day’ the power of 
music upon the human passions. Human nature has not 
greatly changed since. Alexander and Thais, inspired by 
the minstrel’s song, set fire to the palaces of Babylon, a fact 
which is illustrated by a story which Bandmaster Sousa 
has brought back with him from his latest tour of the 

‘It happened in Exeter, N. H.,” says Mr. Sousa, ‘‘ where 
we gave a concert one afternoon. When we reached the 
hall | found two juvenile residents of Exeter, who, by dis- 
tributing handbills, had earned the privilege of hearing the 
concert from behind the scenes. The youngsters had some 
sort of a quarrel, and when I| came across them, were mak- 
ing threatening demonstrations at one another. | separated 
them, and repeated the verse beginning, ‘Let dogs delight 
to bark and bite’—you may have heard of it. | sat them 
down in two chairs, and gave them a lecture on the sinful- 
ness of fighting, until it was time to go on the stage. 

‘‘From where | stood I could see the boys, each in his 
chair, out in the wings. We began with one of Liszt’s 
Hungarian rhapsodies. First came a lively, rather martial, 
allegro movement, and as the music proceeded the little fel- 
lows got out of their chairs, and sliding along towards one 
another, took up the quarrel where oe had left off. 

‘*A collision was imminent, when the music ceased, and 
a soothing andante movement followed. The boys re- 
sumed their chairs, and listened quietly during this passage, 
even exchanging looks which | interpreted as conciliatory 
and repentant. Another allegro movement followed, and 
the stage-hands had to interfere to keep the youngsters from 
punching one another. 

‘“‘Then we played a pretty, melodious waltz, and the 
boys kept perfectly quiet in their chairs. | thought they 
had forgotten their feud, and when the waltz was encored | 
ordered the ‘Washington Post March.’ Before we had 
played a dozen bars the little rascals were having it hot and 
heavy all over the side of the stage. The last | saw of them 
was the spectacle of their ejectment from the stage-door, 
one of them stanching a profuse nasal hemorrhage, while 
the other nursed a badly blackened eye. It was the most 
forcible demonstration of the influence of music upon the 
human passions which | remember having seen.”’ 


An amusing story is told of a good old New England 
minister who had a great love for music, but who religiously 
excluded from his meeting-house all instruments, save a 
little wooden pitch pipe. A member of his choir had learned 
to play the base viol, and one Sunday morning, anxious to 
exhibit his skill, he introduced his ponderous instrument 
into the singing gallery. 

When the first prayer was ended, while the minister was 
turning over the leaves of his ‘‘ Watts,” the bass viol player 
attracted his attention by trying his strings in a somewhat 
ostentatious manner. 

The minister paused, laid down his hymn-book, took 
his sermon from the cushion, and proceeded with his dis- 
course, as if singing was no part of public worship, and 
finally dismissed the congregation without giving the 
choir a chance. 

The choir were indignant. The young people refused 
to go into the ‘‘singing-seats”’ for the afternoon service, and 
the elders who did go there had the aspect of men whose 
minds were fully made up. 

Services began as usual in the afternoon. The minister 
took his book in his hand, looked over his spectacles at the 


gallery, read a Psalm, and sat down. No sound followed. 
The ‘‘leader” looked—or tried to look-—perfectly uncon- 
scious. After a long ard most uneasy silence, the good 
doctor, with a flush on his stern face, rose and read the 
Psalm again, paused, then reread the first verse, and then, 
pushing up his spectacles, looked interrogatively at the 

Upon this the leader arose and said, with an attempt at 
decision in his trembling tones: 

‘* There won't be any singing here this afternoon.” 

‘*Then there won't be any preaching,” said the minister, 
promptly; and taking his cocked hat from its peg, he 
marched down the pulpit stairs, through the broad aisle, and 
out of the house, leaving his congregation utterly astounded. 

The bass viol never appeared in the ‘‘singing-seats’”’ again, 
but the quick-tempered, kind hearted doctor preached to a 
submissive congregation for many years afterward. 


ARTINI was one of the greatest violinists of the last 

century. He was born at Pirano, in 1692. His parents 
were determined that he should enter the priesthood, but 
being unsuccessful in turning the lad that way, persuaded 
him to study law. 

His secret marriage with a beautiful girl being discovered, 
he had to take flight. Finding refuge in a monastery, he 
remained there} for some time, till he was discovered by a 
former acquaintance. His whereabouts being reported to 
the irate parents, and a reconciliation being affected, he re- 
turned to his young wife, and, making his home at Padua, 
took up the study of the violin. He became famous in the 
musical world, and was besought by other countries to visit 
them, that they might hear his wonderful playing, but he 
could not be tempted to leave his native soil. 

The following story concerning the composition entitled 
‘Il Trillo del Diavolo,” was told by Tartini himself: 

One night in the year 1713, while Tartini was yet a young 
man, he had a most surprising and realistic dream. He 
dreamed he had made a compact with his satanic majesty, 
by the terms of whica the gentleman with the cloven hoof 
was, contrary to the usual order of things, always to be at 
the service of the violinist. After some little time spent in 
getting acquainted, Tartini handed his violin to his new 
servant to find out what kind of a fiddler he was, when, to 
Tartini’s utter astonishment, he heard a solo so beautiful, so 
bewitching, and played with such skill and taste, that it sur- 
passed all the playing that he had ever heard in his life. 

Just at this interesting point in the affair Tartini awoke. 
Filled with the memory of the beautiful playing he had heard 
in his dream, he hastened to his instrument, and in his ex- 
citement and delight he tried to reproduce some of the strains 
that fell from the Mephistophelian bow. But, alas, the devil 
was gone and his music with him. 

Nevertheless, Tartini, inspired by the memory of the 
dream music, took pen and paper and composed this sonata 
called ‘‘ The Devil’s Trill.” 

He declared it to be far inferior to what he heard in his 
dream; but, be that as it may, it certainly excelled in value 
any other composition that he wrote in the sober moments 
of daylight, and uninspired by diabolical compacts. 

O, well for the fortunate soul 
Which Music’s wings infold, 
Stealing away the memory 

Of sorrows new and old. 





Tue Musica Vistror 1s published on the first of every 

The subscription price is $1.50 per vear, pavable invaria- 
bly in advance. Special terms to clubs of five or more. 
Single copies 15 cents. 

{-2)" Subscribers finding a cross drawn through this notice 
will understand that the time for which they have paid expires 
with this number. The paper will be discontinued where the 
subscription is not renewed promptly. 

*.* Correspondents are informed that notices of concerts 
and other items must be forwarded before the twentieth of the 
month; otherwise they can not be inserted. All communica- 
tions must be accompanied with the names and addresses 
of the writers. 

All communications for the magazine must be addressed 
to THe Musicat Visitor, care of 

Cincinnati, Ohio. 
All letters on business to the Publishers. 

PLATO says that music produces the most useful things to 
men. It insures the power to form thought, it engenders 
the instincts of social tact, and it invites to tranquillity of 
soul. Does it, indeed? It certainly ought to do so, but 
what about the ructions of church choir members and prima 

Ir may not be generally known, but it is a fact neverthe- 
less, that the two. best drinking-songs in the English lan- 
guage were written by clergymen. ‘‘Jolly Good Ale, and 
Old,” was written by the sixteenth century Bishop of Bath 
and Wells. The other song, *‘The Brown Jug,” was writ- 
ten by Rev. Frances Fawkes. But these men lived in an 
age of topers. 

THEODORE THOMAS will celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of 
his arrival in this country next July. From the first he has 
been prominently identified with the best musical interests 
of the country, and all unprejudiced persons must agree that 
that identification has been productive of great good. A 
pleasant episode of his early days in America is recorded in 
Dr. Root’s ‘‘ Story of a Musical Life.” 

IN the May Visiror there will be music for Decoration 
Day—a quartet or chorus for mixed voices, and one for 
men’s voices. Choirs will find this music useful, now that 
the day is so generally observed by pastors in memorial 
sermons and other exercises in the churches. Choirs can 
very materially assist the G. A. R. on Decoration Day by 
offering their services in a professional capacity. 

WE note the rapidly increasing use of aluminum in the 
arts and manufactures. The aluminum violin is already an 
established fact, and the metal is now being used in the 
manufacture of band instruments, notably the drum. All 
the bands of the Austrian army are shortly to be equipped 
with aluminum drums. This metal may shortly be applied 
to the making of the other band instruments which are now 
made of brass and silver. 

Tue demand for the March Vistror has been so great that 
it is already out of print, but the Easter music published in 
it can be had by addressing our publishers. We give one 
Easter Anthem in this number, which requires less prepara- 
tion than those of the March number, but we hope it will 
be just as useful. It is not the difficulty of the piece which 
makes it desirable, but its spirit and purpose. 

THE two new steamships now building for the American 
Line are to be equipped with magnificent pipe organs of 
14 stops each, and all the modern appliances. The organs 
will be arched into the dining saloon, the arch to be filled 
with decorated speaking pipes and a fan of trumpets. The 
keyboard, worked by an electric action, will be thirty feet 
distant from the organ on the level of the saloon deck. 
This placing of the keyboard at a distance from the organ- 
box is one which should be insisted upon by all commit- 
tees to whom is intrusted the mission of contracting for 
church organs. Pm a see ee ee 

THE various branches of the Protestant Church are gradu- 
ally swinging around into line with the liturgical denomi- 
nations in the adoption from time to time of one or another 
of the forms of the ritualistic churches. Responsive read- 
ing of the Scriptures is now quite general, and other desir- 
able reforms are sure to follow. But there should be dis- 
crimination. Choirs of ‘‘non-conformist” churches have 
taken up the custom of the Episcopal church in closing each 
hymn with an ‘‘Amen.” Sometimes the effect is quite 
ludicrous. Prayers in the form of hymns may always prop- 
erly close with the Amen, but there is no sense or appro- 
priateness in adding it to some of the verses found in our 
hymn and tune books. We would as soon think of 
‘‘Amening”’ the Multiplication Table! 

In the Vistror and elsewhere we have written on the sub- 
ject ‘‘ How to Listen to Music,” and similar topics, wishing 
to aid the concert-goer to a right frame of ‘mind for such oc- 
casions. We have slighted the critic and those who wish 
to appear critical. A contemporary supplies the lack, and 
and gives the following humorous advice, which we submit 
to our readers: 

‘‘It is safe for him, the critical, to count the time steadily 
on his fingers during the performance. If, after several bars, 
he finds that he is not with the conductor he can say that the 
latter takes unwarrantable liberties with the music, and wax 
mightily eloquent over this, there are always plenty of people 
on whose stupidity he can rely. If in a Beethoven scherzo 
heFisSunable to follow the time with his forefinger in the 
score, after the greatest effort, it is well to condemn the tem- 

po as too fast. There are many of his readers who are sure 
to be in the same predicament, who will sympathize. About 
waltz time would be better, and enable them comfortably to 
turn back to the repeats. If the composition he listens to be 
modern, a great burden will be lifted off his shoulders. 
When the harmonies are rich, or the bass is used in modern 
style, it is reminiscent of Wagner; if the contrary, any other 
composer can be selected. If the tune be played in octaves 
by the violins and doubled with a cornet or such like, the 
work is melodious. Otherwise it is best to watch the orches- 
tra; if every one seems to do something the music can be 
termed learned and scholastic, especially if the critic is clever 
enough to detect a bit of fugato writing. But the critic will, 
| fear, complain that | am helping him how to write rather 
than to listen. Well, he goes to write, not to listen. Could 
he listen he could not write.” 


T is with deep regret that we have to announce the death 

of the genial, great-hearted, whole-souled, Col. Wm. 
Moore, of the Everett. Piano Company. He died at his 
home in Walpole, Mass., Wednesday, March 13, of pneu- 
monia, after a short illness. 

Col. Moore was born in Devonshire, England, about fifty- 
nine years ago. 

When but a lad he saw service in England and France's 
war against Russia, in the Crimea. He then came to this 
country just at the outbreak of the Rebellion. The day 
Fort Sumter was fired upon he enlisted in the 62d N. Y. 
Regiment. He served during the entire Peninsular cam- 
paign under McClellan, and with the Army of the Potomac. 
Disabled by wounds he returned to his home, and on his 
recovery entered the navy, in which he served till the close 
of the war. 

He was engaged in various pursuits until he became con- 
nected with the Emerson Piano Company, of Boston, which 
he built up from a small business to a large and successful 
one. After a number of years he sold out to the present 
proprietors of the Emerson Company, and went to Colorado, 
where he engaged in several mining enterprises. During 
his five years’ stay in Colorado he became so popular that 
he was prominently spoken of for the office of Lieutenant 

He then returned to Boston and became associated with 
The John Church Company, of Cincinnati, in the manufac- 
ture of the Everett piano. 

He was a member of the G. A. R., and of the Loyal Le- 

A couple of years ago he was elected to the? Massachu- 
setts State Legislature. 

William Moore was a large, hearty, robust man of com- 
manding presence, who had hosts of friends and few 

Mr. Lee, president and general manager of The John 
Church Company, went on to attend the funeral and ar- 
range for the continuance of the work of the factory. 


Titles for piano compositions and subjects for songs that 
are new and striking are among the most difficult things to 
obtain. Long ago a very wise man said that ‘‘there was 
nothing new under the sun,” and one who has ever cudg- 
eled his brain for a title or subject that has not been used be- 
fore will very readily subscribe to Solomon’s affirmation. 


Compositions are often submitted to us with the kind re- 
quest to ‘‘give them a good name,” the author having doubt- 
less tried to do that same thing, but without success. 

We are often approached by authors for subjects. ‘‘If | 
had a subject, 1 could write songs easily.’’ Yea, verily, so 
could we. It’s the subject that stands like a lion in the way. 
How many of us are kept outside of the house Famous 
because of this howling, mocking, tantalizing beast which 
stands plump in the middle of the road thereto ? 

A good subject is in itself an inspiration, and what can not 
one do when inspired ? A good subject, however, need not 
necessarily mean a new subject, one never used before. This 
latter is almost, if not quite, an impossibility. An old subject, 
even one much used, if newly, freshly treated, is as good, if 
not better than one entirely new. ‘‘Home” has been the 
theme of song in all ages, as ‘‘Love” has been; but John 
Howard Payne and Stephen Foster both gave a new look to 
the subject in their simple but immortal songs. 

From the most ancient times the poet wrote and the mu- 
sician sang of ‘‘ Love,” but the subject is not yet exhausted. 
New experiences will find new thoughts to sing. Hebrew 
poetry did not say the last word. Solomon, in all his glory, 
and with all his vivid oriental imagery, still left something to 
be added by others who ‘‘sing of their beloved.” The 
home of poetry and art, 

‘* Where burningsSappho loved and sung, 

did not hold within the hearts of its singers the last analysis 
of the subject. Ages after, a little Scottish wild flower of 
song, blooming modestly among the heather of the land of 
Burns and Scott, grew and shed its fragrance and beauty over 
all the world, eclipsing, in its homely simplicity and fresh- 
ness, the more stately and pretentious epics of the ages: 
**And for bonnie Annie Laurie 
I'd lay me doon and dee.’ 

Certain forms and imagery, indeed, may have served their 
day and generation, and it may be well to allow them to 
pass to their well-earned rest. Some of these much-used 
figures have been recently humorously set forth by a writer 
in the London Standard, and he believes that some new 
images, if not new subjects, might be used. 

There are other things in the world, he says, besides the 
kind of love of which they sing—love in boats; love beside 
the river; love in the past, and love that lasts forever; love 
that will never come back, though entreated to do so in a 
waltz refrain; love beneath the stars, beneath the moon, in 
the autumn, in the spring, in the winter; love likened to a 
river that flows on forever, to a flower that fades not, to the 
sun, to the ocean, to the spring that awakens the world to 
new life, to the sunlight that chases the shadows away, to 
a fever that burns and will not let the patient find rest on 
this weary planet. Some such ideas as these are to be found 
in even the finest love poetry, but our word writers always 
deal with love in this blatant way. And then there is the 
nice little religious poem about dim cathedrals and organs 
(they always bring in the organ, for it gives the composer 
such a beautiful chance of writing a few church-like chords 
in the accompaniment). Or you may have a lyric about the 
streets of gold, which lie beyond the grave su cold; or of 
dying choir boys; or of organists who have played chords 


which they can’t for the life of them find again (probably 
because their knowledge of harmony is limited). 

If your choice lies in the direction of ballads, there is the 
marine ditty, with a refrain to the effect that every maiden 
is enamored of those who go down to the sea in ships, or 
that Jack will not be very long away, and when he comes 
back, oh, what rapture! You may have more tragic things 
than this: you may have a ship that sails away and never 
comes back, while the poor maiden watches and watches 
and watches—this kind of poem is considered vastly pa- 
thetic, especially inland, where no sea is. 

And yet, when all is said, and the critic and the humorist 
have had their little fling at the popular song, there yet re- 
mains the stubborn fact that these things are all real experi- 
ences of humanity, and it is this fact that makes them 
known, and loved, and sung, aye, written. And, after all, 
it is far better that we have the simple, unaffected utterances 
of the heart, though endlessly repeated, than the strained 
and twisted efforts that come from an attempt to write 
‘*something new.” 


Sousa and his great military band give a concert at Music 
Hall, April 5. 

Mr. and Mrs. Benj. Guckenberger made a short concert 
tour in the South last month. 

The College of Music Invitation Concerts have been of 
unusual interest the past month, and have been exceedingly 
well attended. 

dew wag 28, at the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music, 
Theodor Bohlmann gave a lecture on ‘‘Liszt—The Gipsies 
and their Music in Hungary,”’ with musical illustrations. 

George Schneider's fifth recital of the season was given at 
his music-rooms in Pike’s Opera House February 23, with 
numbers by Handel, Mozart, Weber, Beethoven, McDowell, 
and Dvorak. 

The last three of the series of nine symphony concerts 
will be given this month, under the direction of Henry 
Schradieck, of New York, formerly head of the violin de- 
partment in our College of Music. 

Mrs. Corinne Moore-Lawson sang in Montreal the past 
month. She is now the only singer left at the Mt. Auburn 
Presbyterian Church, the other members of the choir having 
resigned. Mrs. L. retires also in June, when her contract ex- 

Pupils’ recitals are given at regular intervals at the Con- 
servatory of Music, and serve to give the pupils a good ‘‘stage 
presence,’’ as well as to entertain their friends. On the even- 
ing of March 23 Miss Helen May Curtis gave ‘‘An Evening 
with Holmes.”’ 

The John Church Company held their annual election on 
last Thursday, March 7. There are two incorporated com- 
panies, The John Church Company and The Imperial Com- 
pany. The John Church Company elected the following 
board of officers: Frank A. Lee, President and General Man- 
ager; Edward Rawson, Vice-President; A. Howard Hinkle, 
Treasurer; J. W. Miller, Secretary; Geo. P. Handy, Assist- 
ant General Manager. The election of The Imperial Company 
resulted as follows: Charles F. Geiger, President; Frank A. 
Lee, Vice-President; Geo. P. Handy, Treasurer; J. W. Miller, 

Alvary has engaged to sing at the last concert of the Cin- 
cinnati Symphony Orchestra under Mr. Henry Schradieck. 
Fri. Brema was to have sung at the first Schradieck concert, 
but the President of the Association received a telegram last 
night stating that Frl. Bema could not be in this city on that 
date. Mr. Albino Gorno is to be the soloist at the Friday 
matinee, April 12. Mr. Schradieck has added to his pro- 
gram a composition by Dr. N. S. Elsenheimer, of this city. 

The two plans for the reconstruction of Music Hall are 
now ready. Mr. Hinkle’s plan brings the stage forward into 
the hall, lessens the auditorium space, but provides a — 
— equal to the present one by extending the secon 
gallery, bringing the whole audience into a more compact 
area. Mr. Hannaford’s plan, prepared for the Music Hall 
trustees, is somewhat similar in design, but provides for a 
row of private boxes on each side of the proscenium. The 
trustees find the cost of remodeling, according to the plans 
submitted, too great, and have asked for a revision of them 
with a view to reducing the expense. 

Speaking of the probability of raising the necessary funds, 
Mr. Hinkle says: ‘‘ The trustees have $50,000 which could 
be applied to the fund, providing that citizens raise an equal 
amount. I believe there are a number of a 
men who are ready to subscribe five or ten thousand each. 
It also occurred to me that if the trustees take the necessary 
steps we might arrange a week of grand opera in the fall, for 
the benefit of the fund. The choice of seats and boxes could 
be sold at auction, and in this way the general public would 
be asked to give its aid to a project which I feel would be of 
inestimable value to the city. People have accused me of 
having some personal reasons for interesting myself in the 
reinediling of Music Hall. The accusation is most unjust. 
I believe that if Mr. Springer were alive he would be the first 
man to recognize the value of the proposed changes. We 
have an opportunity to give our city, at a comparatively 
small cost, an institution that few cities in this country could 
afford to establish. If Music Hall belonged to a private cor- 
poration it would have been improved long ago, as it prac- 
tically earns nothing as it stands. Under the plans offered 
to the trustees, none of its present uses would be impaired, 
arid it would be the home of countless different musical or- 
ganizations that next year will be practically homeless.” 

The Wetzler-Ysaye concert at the Odeon on the evening 
of March 22 was undoubtedly the musical event of the 
month. The audience was very large. The following was 
the program: 

1. Sonata, op. 47, dedicated to R. Kreutzer, Beethoven; Adagio Sostenuto, 
Andante con Variazioni, finale, presto, Miss Wetzler and Mr. Ysaye; 2. 
Scherzo, B-flat minor, op. 31, Chopin, Miss Wetzler; 3. Fantasie Appassio- 

nata, Vieuxtemps, Mr. Ysaye; 4. Carneval, op. 9, Schumann, Miss Wetzler; 
5. Zigeunerweisen, Sarasate, Mr. Ysaye. 

The feature of the evening was of course the famous 
Kreutzer Sonata, not only famous on its own merits, but 
given at least additional notoriety by Tolstoi, the Russian 
novelist, who, in his novel, of which it treats, discovered 
meanings in it which we feel sure Beethoven never intended 
should be found there. But that has nothing to do with the 
case in hand. Miss Wetzler and Mr. Ysaye gave the best 
performance of this sonata we have ever heard. Especially 
masterly was the interpretation of the Andante con Varia- 
<iont, the theme of which with ourselves personally, and 
many other organists also we believe, is a great favorite as 
an organ voluntary. Miss Wetzler’s ‘‘runs” in this, and in 
all her playing, remind us of the exquisite liquid scale-work 
of the eccentric Pachmann. The sonata was the best per- 
formance of the evening. The Chopin selection did not 
interest us much, though no fault can be found with Miss 
Wetzler’s execution of it. She was most enthusiastically 
applauded, and received more bouquets than she could 
carry away from the stage. 

The Fantasie Appassionata was played by Ysaye con 
amore, and it is evidently a favorite of his. In response to 
an imperative demand for an encore the great violinist ap- 
peared with an aluminum violin, the new invention which 
is now attracting so much attention, and played, accompa- 
nied by Miss Wetzler, a beautiful selection. It was amusing 
to hear the exclamations of surprise at the appearance of the 
new violin. ‘‘Why! what has he done to his violin? Look 
at it! It looks like silver!” But when he began to play, 
the tone was no different from other best ‘‘makes,”’ and it 
seemed to give great satisfaction. The ‘‘aluminum’” was 
used in all the remaining numbers of the program. 

We must in justice call attention, as well, to the fine Ever- 
ett Grand which was used at this concert. Its tones were 
sweet and pleasing, and showed to good advantage under 
the hands of the fair pianist. If Ysaye is the Big Wizard of 
the Violin, Miss Wetzler is the Little Witch of the Piano. 


It is reported that Dr. Root, and Mr. Butterworth of the 
Youth's Companion, are to join forces again in a patriotic 

Mr. John Howard has finally been induced to forego his 
trip to Europe that numerous pupils who wish to study with 
him may have the opportunity to do so during the summer. 

N. W. Dollens, music dealer, of Indianapolis, Ind., has re- 
moved to fine quarters at No. 8 North Pennsylvania Street, 
opposite Odd Fellows’ Hall, where he will be pleased to see 
all his old friends and patrons. 

We call the especial attention of teachers wishing to study 
during the summer to the advertisement, in this Visiror, of 
the Silver Lake Assembly. We will have something to say 
of the music department of the Assembly later on. 

Mr. George H. Rowe's Conservatory of Music, at Dallas, 
Texas, is reported to be in a most flourishing condition. We 
have often had occasion to commend Mr. Rowe and his 
work in the South, and are pleased to report success in his 
new venture. 

A. J. Showalter, of Dalton, Ga.,who has been working in 
Texas during the last month, will hold classes for teachers 
only at his home in April and May, and will sail for Europe 
in j So He says of Dr. Root’s ‘‘Don’t”: ‘‘It is so good 
that | wish every music teacher and music student in Amer- 
ica might read it and then think enough about it to see the 
reasonableness of the Doctor’s criticisms.” 

Mr. E.W. Bowman, director of the Department of Music 
at Vassar College, President of the American College of Mu- 
sicians, etc., has declined the call to be organist and musical 
director at the Fifth Avenue Baptist Church, New York City, 
and will go to the Baptist Temple, in Brooklyn, now being 
built on the site of Dr. Talmage’s Tabernacle. He expects 
to organize the largest church choir in the world. 

The Vistror is in ng of complimentary tickets to, and 
programs of, the Kansas Musical Jubilee, to be held at Hutch- 
inson May 7. 8,9 and 10. There will be a contest for prizes, 
to be presided over by Prof. W. C. E. Seeboeck, of Chicago, 

who will award the prizes, and who will also, during the Ju- 
bilee, give several piano recitals illustrating the growth and 
development of music. Full information concerning the re- 
ye er of the contest, as to music and singers, will no 

oubt be readily furnished by the secretary, B. S. Hoagland, 
Hutchinson, Kansas. 



Rubinstein left by will over $300,000 to his wife and 

Mr. F. W. Root lectured at Olivet, Mich., last month. 
His subject was ‘‘A Study of Musical Taste.”’ 

There are more than 2,000 girl students in the London 
Guildhall School of Music, and of these nearly 300 are study- 
ing the violin. 

Charles H. Jarvis, a pianist well known to members of the 
National Music Teachers’ Association, died last month at his 
home in Philadelphia. He was a fine pianist and teacher, 
and a man beloved by all who knew him. 

Giuseppe Verdi, now in his eighty-fourth year, is engaged 
on a new opera of fanciful and spectacular import, entitled 
‘‘La Tempete.” The leading role, which is said to be of 
the Mephisto order, is being written for M. Maurel, the dis- 
tinguished French baritone, who made such a pronounced 
success at his first appearance by his powerful portrayal 
of Jago, and intensified admiration by his wonderful work 
as Falstaff. 

Julian Edwards has every reason to be proud of the pub- 
lic reception of his comic opera ‘‘ Madeleine.” The com- 
pany has now returned to New York City, and the opera 
has ‘‘caught on” so securely there that it is doubtful if 
‘‘outsiders”’ will have a chance to see it again for a long 
while. The songs of the opera, which are great favorites, 
are selling largely. There is a rapidly increasing demand 
for them. They may be had in a ‘‘Book of Gems,” and 
also as separate pieces of sheet music, with a handsome 
portrait of Mile. Camille D’Arville on the title page. 

A national music festival of Irish music, to be called by the 
appropriate Irish name ‘‘Feis,” is to be held at Dublin at an 
early date, and a committee of Irish musicians, headed by 
Dr. Villiers Stanford, has been formed to carry out this pro- 
ject. The objects of the ‘‘Feis” are to give the public an 
opportunity of hearing Irish music, and particularly old 
tunes, interpreted in accordance with the traditional manner 
of performance; to encourage the publication of old Irish 
airs, now in manuscript or not yet set down in writing; to 
perform songs in the Gaelic tongue; and to encourage the 
formation of a new Irish school of composers, as national in 
their art as Dvorak or Grieg. 

Harry Coleman, who died on Thursday, March 7, at his 
residence, 2846 Diamond Street, New York, was a well- 
known music publisher and manufacturer of musical instru- 
ments at 228 North Ninth Street. He was about forty-nine 
years old, and was born in Dublin, Ireland. During the 
war he served as a member of the Twenty-ninth Pennsyl- 
vania Volunteers, and was a member of Post 2, G. A. R. 
He was also a member of the Musical Association, the Order 
of Elks and the Franz-Schubert Bund. He visited Europe 
last year to have an operation performed upon his throat, but 
failed to secure the relief he hoped for. He was the pub- 
lisher of the earlier Sousa Marches. 

The new Czar of Russia, before his accession to the throne, 
while walking with an attendant one evening through St. Pe- 
tersburg, heard the sound of singing in a private house. He 
stayed to listen, and was much pleased. On his return to the 
palace he sent a servant to request the attendance of the mer- 
chant who lived in the house. He informed the merchant 
that he had overheard the singing, and asked where he could 
procure a copy of the book containing the music and the 
words. The merchant presented the Czarowitz with the 
book, which proved to be a translation, in Russian, of one of 
the Moody & Sankey books of ‘‘Gospel Songs.”’ 



HE editor of the Visiror first met Mr. Barnabee years 

ago in Massachusetts, when the now celebrated operatic 
comedian was just beginning his public career. He was 
employed by Lyceum Bureaus throughout New England as 
one of the features of the course of winter entertainments 
then so common. 

In those days he provided the evening’s program himself. 
He could sing, act, tell a story, in such a way that it became 
a question which of these features should be given the most 
prominence on the program. 

Barnabee is known as a comic singer, and his ‘‘ Cork 

Leg,” ‘‘Down among the dead men,” etc., will long be 
remembered. But he is equally successful in a more serious 
vein. We have heard Gottschalk’s ‘‘O Loving Heart” sung 

by many talented artists, but none, in our opinion, ever ap- 
proached Barnabee in his interpretation of that beautiful 
song. He began life, says Mr. Frank A. Munsey, who 
has been writing about the genial comedian, as a clerk 
‘behind a dry-goods counter in Portsmouth, N. H., where he 
entertained his customers with his pranks and jokes, while 
measuring off their purchases. He was invited by a lady 
who knew of his talent to take part in an entertainment in 
a neighboring town, and his success was so great that he 
determined to leave the store at once and devote his time 
thereafter to amusing the public. He toured the country for 
a dozen years with his monologue entertainment, and be- 
came a favorite everywhere. At the time of the ‘‘Pinafore” 
craze in 1879, a company was formed of some of the best 
church choir singers of Boston, including May Beebe, Myron 
Whitney, Tom Karl, and Mr. Barnabee. From that day 
Mr. Barnabee has been a conspicuous factor in comic opera. 

Though a man of much physical force, a man marvel- 
ously at ease on the stage, and apparently on the heights of 
enjoyment, bubbling over with fun and life, cracking jokes, 
fresh inspirations, of the moment, dancing and singing in 
the gayest of spirits, in spite of all this spontaneity, this 
effervescence of merriment, he is one of the most timid and 
even despondent of men. 

‘*It is all | can do at times to go on the stage,” Mr. Bar- 
nabee says. ‘‘I approach it with absolute fear, and some- 
times this fear, this dread, possesses me so completely that 
I feel | shall never leave it alive.” 

The above characteristic of Barnabee recalls to the editor 
of the Visiror an incident in the life of one of the great En- 
glish comedians—the name is forgotten—may be it was 
Toole—let us call him Toole any way, for the purpose of the 
anecdote. A man utterly despondent and cast down, blue 
to the last degree, and almost on the verge of suicide, called 
at the office of a physician noted for his success with mental 
troubles, and asked for advice and treatment. After a thor- 
ough examination of the patient, the doctor decided that no 
medicine was needed. ‘‘Take your mind off yourself,” 
said the physician. ‘‘ The best thing you can do is to go 
and hear Toole. He will do more for you than! can. He 
will cure you.”’ 

‘‘Alas!” said the strange patient, ‘‘] am Toole.”’ 


How do we look at the past and current season of Grand 

Opera—always to be spelt with capitals? 

It has not been devoid of grandeur. The stars of the 
very first magnitude—Melba, Maurel, and Jean de Reszke 
—have shone upon us again with undiminished lustre. The 
rest of the world’s great capitals have had no artists to 
equal these; they are incomparable. The two men are 
mentally exceptional; their singing shows that. You are 
compelled to feel their personality, as well as luxuriate in 
their voluptuous tones. After Maurel’s first dozen notes, | 

Se Aa AN Peet ae tr 


turned to my little daughter and whispered: ‘‘There, Ma- 
bel, is a singer! Listen to every note!’ Again, in **The 
Huguenots,”” where, in an inferior part, his tones were 
brought into immediate contrast with Edouard de Reszke and 
Plangon, the volume of his voice, though not obstreperously 
asserted when he sings alone, was so superior that it filled 
the listeners with amazement. Maurel approaches nearer to 
declamatory, elocutionary force without sacrificing in the least 
the musical beauties of the text than any baritone | ever 
have heard. 

As for Jean de Reszke, many of my musical friends have 
agreed with me in doubting whether he could be in any 
measure displaced in our critical or affectionate regards were 
even Campanini to return to the stage in the full prime of 
his magnificent powers. Yet the Polish vocalist is even 
now, so saith report, the older man. Unlike Tamagno, he 
never emits a disagreeable sound, whatever may be the 
stress of the situation or the sentiment. 

Eames, Sybil, Sanderson, and Nordica, all are light so- 
prani. There was genuine disappointment over Sanderson's 
high notes, which evidently had been modeled by the 
French school of female voice culture, as had also been the 
voices of Eames and Nordica. ‘‘Mere trickles of sound,” 
said the New York Tribune the next morning, referring to 
these lofty peeps of tone. Yet Sanderson is.a most tasteful 
singer and vivacious actress. Why will the French persist 
in cultivating what are called the ‘‘head tones.” They de- 
prive their soprani of the power of making climaxes. For 
instance, in Michaela’s only considerable aria in ‘‘Carmen,”’ 
although the music demands and the signs request a cres- 
cendo to a fortissimo ending of the phrase upon the high G, 
Eames makes, instead, a diminuendo to a pianissimo climax. 
The quality is beautiful, but the power is inadequate and 
disenchanting. Her middle register and all her notes, ex- 
= very highest, are exceptionally beautiful. 

hat shall be said of Tamagno, whom | had heard many 
times in opera, in ‘‘ William Tell” and in ‘‘ Otello,” and had 
always criticised for his stridenttones? Yetin‘‘Samson and 
Delila,” given asan oratorio, his voice was simply beautiful. It 
is probable that in opera the intensity of the action, the vio- 
lence of the gestures, and the dramatic text combined to 
emphasize the piercing nature of his upper notes. 

Massenet’s Werther was not a success. The orchestral 
parts were too lightly scored for the immense space, and 
though beautiful passages were occasionally heard, the whole 
effect was disappointing. 

The management hardly fulfilled its promise of novelties, 
but the supplementary season may make amends. 

Joun Howarop, 
321 West 59th Street, New York City. 


ITHOGRAPHY is based upon the chemical principle of 

the attraction and repulsion of various natural sub- 

stances, and more particularly upon the antagonistic prop- 
erties of grease and water. 

The manner of working the process is to place a ‘‘trans- 
fer” or drawing upon a finished surface of a certain kind of 
limestone with a fatty ink. The remaining parts of the stone 
are wet. The inking roller then being used, the ink adheres 
to the ‘‘ transfer,” or drawing, but is repelled from the wet 
parts. Paper is then pressed on, thus producing the printed 

As applied to the printing of music, this process can be 
used to advantage on small or medium-sized editions of 
instrumental or vocal music, and is largely used in the print- 
ing of instrumental music. 

It is an interesting fact that C. M. von Weber, the eminent 
composer, made the first practical application of this process 
to music. Weber, having an intimate acquaintance with 
Senefelder, the inventor of lithography, became intensely 

interested in his discovery. He entirely forsook his musical 
studies for a time and turned his attention to the printing of 
music. His Opus No. 2, printed in 1799, is the oldest pre- 
served specimen of lithographed music. 

During the first fifty years of its existence lithography was 
not used to any extent in the printing of music, but since 
the introduction of the litho-cylinder press, in 1850, a very 
large proportion of the music published has been printed in 
this way. 

‘‘Transfers”’ can be taken from electrotype or stereotype 
plates, a printed sheet, and from engraved plates. 

Drawing direct on stone is done to some extent, it being 
the method employed in the early days of the invention. 
The copyist has to write backward in so doing, but a little 
practice soon overcomes any awkwardness in this respect. 
One of the principal German houses has recently published 
some of the works of the old masters done in this way, 
which are remarkable for their legibility. The best results, 
however, are obtained by transferring from engraved plates. 

The mode of procedure is to first obtain a printed copy 
from the engraved plate. This is done on the = press in 
the same way as printed copies are struck off in the en- 

raved process, except that a special ink and paper are used. 
The printed sheet is then placed ink-side downward on the 
lithographic stone, which is put into a machine and subjected 
to pressure. This causes the ink to penetrate the stone; 
the paper is soaked off with water. This ‘‘transfer’’ is then 
“set” by applying gum water to the stone. 

The ‘‘etching,” so called, is accomplished by the use of a 
fluid consisting of nitric acid and gum arabic. This gives 
the ‘‘transfer” more character, and cleans the remaining sur- 
face of the stone. 

‘‘Setting” the stone in the litho-cylinder press calls for 
much care and experience. A slight variation will cause a 
broken stone and then a new ‘‘transfer” will have to be 
made. The top of the stone should be exactly level. This 
can be acosuagiehed by means of the adjustable screws in 
the corners of the bed of the press. 

The press being started, the stone first comes in contact 
with a set of wet rollers that dampen the surface of the stone 
not covered by the transfer. It is next rolled by the inking- 
rollers, which apply ink to the transfer. A reverse motion 
places it under the feed cylinder, where paper is applied to 
produce the printed page. 

When the edition is completed the ‘‘transfer’’ is ground 
off the stone so that it may be used again. The average 
thickness of a stone when new is about four inches; if care 
is used when grinding off old ‘‘transfers,’’ one stone can be 
used to print about fifty different transfers. 

It would be a considerable task to compute the amount of 
music printed by these processes, and which has been dis- 
seminated throughout the civilized world. But as it is in 
book-printing, so is it also in music: its presses are in con- 
stant motion. Literature and music are the two great intel- 
lectual enjoyments. 

The following note, lately received, from a gentleman who 
is an entire stranger to us, but who has the reputation of 
being an excellent cornet soloist, is self-explanatory: 

Van Wert, Onto, March 4, 1895. 
The Jobn Church Co. 

Gentlemen: | received ‘‘ Scintilita” (cornet and piano) Saturday, and 
must say that | am more than delighted with it; and while | am the 
owner of more than three hundred high-grade cornet solos, there is none of 
them which I think more of than this new one you have sent me. | notice 
by your circular that the price is $1.00, while I sent you but fifty cents, and 
am ready to remit the difference on advice from you. 

I have never had the pleasure of dealing directly with you before, but have 
many of your publications, procured through friends who were in the habit of 
dealing with you. * * * * I am anxious to see and try several other 
cornet solos which you publish, viz.: ‘‘ Old Folks at Home,” Fantasie, 
by Carey; Henrietta Polka, by Zimmerman; Kathleen Polka, by Sallman. 
* * * * Your bulletin of new music would be a welcome visitor to me 
whenever issued. Very truly yours, S. R. Beecuer. 



A little miss was listening to her sister while she played 
on the piano, and, after keeping still for awhile, said: ‘‘Sister, 
why don’t you open the draft and make it sound louder?” 

The guitar is a sentimental musical instrument, useful in 
accompanying songs in summer. This instrument is invari- 
ably selected by spirits at seances to play on when the 
room is dark. 

Mrs. Caller: ‘‘] think it is very kind of your husband to 
sing at so many funerals. He will no doubt be rewarded 
some day."’ Mrs. Singer: ‘‘Oh, no, he doesn't expect any- 
thing; he just sings for fun.” 

The little daughter of a Cleveland friend of the Visiror de- 
lights in the use of big words. She wanted her mother to 
sing for her one day, and so she led her to the piano, herself 
mounting the stool, saying that she would ‘‘ play the com- 

Little Four-Year-Old: ‘‘Mamma, we had a bootiful time at 
school, singing, after we had said our A B C’s.” ‘What did 
you sing, my dear?” ‘‘* Ye Christian Heroes, go for Blaine,’ 
and ‘Where, Oh, Where are the Three Blue Children ?’’ 

L’ Echo Musical gives an account of an extraordinary event 
which happened recently to a flautist at Antwerp. He was 
performing at a soirée before a large and brilliant audience, 
when there was suddenly heard a noise inside the instru- 
ment. It was produced by a false tooth of the performer, 
which had become detached, and, falling into the embou- 
chure, stopped the vibrating column of air. 

There is among Boston celebrities a certain small-bodied, 
sensitive composer of music who is gifted with a very witty 
wife. Certain very giddy girls were clustered about the com- 
poser, exclaiming ecstatically on the quality of his music. 
‘*] don’t see, Mr. ——,”’ said Miss Gushington, ‘‘how you 
managed to write all those lovely, passionate things without 
being worried all the time. Dear me, | should be as nervous 

as a witch.” ‘‘ Certainly, you would be, my dear,” said 
Mrs. ——, ‘‘ but John only composes music; | compose 


T was only a little more than three years ago that “ Fritz" 
Emmet appeared for the last time before the public. He 
now lies in an unmarked grave in the rural cemetery, not far 
from the odd structure he built in Albany, which is now 
occupied by Senator Hill. When he was alive, folks fairly 
showered money upon ‘‘Fritz,” in testimony of their delight 
for his madcap mimicry on the stage. His grave is in an 
unfrequented portion of the cemetery, back of where lies the 
late Thurlow Weed. 

There is pathetic evidence that ‘‘ Fritz ’’ Emmet is held in 
more tender memory by those who did not know him 
personally than by members of his own family. While no 
stone marks his grave, and no attempt is made to keep it in 
an attractive condition, it is at all times strewn with withered 

osies, hastily snatched from corsages by fair hands. John 

cKinney, assistant to the cemetery-keeper, says that more 
people ask to have the grave of Emmet pointed out to them 
than any other, and many distinguished personages are in- 
terred there, including Chester A. Arthur, Thurlow Weed, 
and Carlyle Harris. The keeper also says that nearly every 
woman who visits the grave shows evidence of grief, and 
few depart before dropping a posy upon the sod above poor 
“Fritz” Emmet. 



The following clever parody was suggested by the follow- 
ing incident: 
{Eight elders and several members of the choir of St. George's Parish Church, Aberdeen, 

have resigned in consequence of a choral ‘“‘ Amen’ having been introduced after the benedic- 
, Seated one day at the organ, 
| was weary and ill at ease; 
For | knew we were innovating, 
| was sure it would stir a breeze— 
1 was full of the direst foreboding, 
I wished | was dreaming then, 
As I struck that chord of music— 
The first of that soft Amen. 

Through the pews of the church ran a rustle, 
A murmur of awe and woe— 
‘‘ Jehoshaphat ! what is the meaning 
Of this, Mr. So-and-So?” 
The elders uprose in a body; 
The choir were not of one mind; 
The altos and trebles sang with me; 
The tenors and bases declined ! 

Of course | demanded their reasons 
For leaving me thus in the lurch: 
‘Twas conscience impelled us,” they told me, 
“* And zeal for the good of the church!” 
I reasoned, and so did the parson, 
But expostulation was vain; 
The elders and choirmen forsook us; 
Amazed and forlorn we remain ! 

It may be that Death’s bright angel 
Will speak in that chord again; 
It may be that only in heaven 
| shall hear that soft Amen. 
If thus it befalls, then the elders 
And recalcitrant choirmen, | trow, 
Must either extinguish their “‘ conscience,” 
Or retire—to the regions below ! 


AS is well known, Nuremburg, although now chiefly asso- 
ciated in one’s mind with nut-crackers and toys, was, 
in the Middle Ages, the center of German art and letters. 
Here flourished the Meistersingers; here Veit Stoss, Vischer 
and Kraff, the carvers, lived; here too worked the man who 
had the honor of being Albrecht Diirer’s master, Michael 
Wohlgemuth, and here are still to be seen many of Diirer’s 
masterpieces—not so much his paintings, famous though 
they be, as his far better executed engravings. These are 
exhibited in his own house, which has been preserved intact 
for inspection. 

One feels translated into a bygone century when one sees 
the undisturbed homeliness of this dwelling, and all its fur- 
nishings. It must be conceded that Agnes, the wife of Diirer, 
who has been chronicled by history as an unmitigated 
shrew, had, nevertheless, rare taste, if she it was who se- 
lected the furniture. 

Close by the Diirer house is that of Hans Sachs, the cob- 
bler poet. It, however, desecrating hands have turned into 
the Nuremburg equivalent for a saloon. 

The works of the representative carvers of Nuremburg 
are plentifully to be found in and about the chief churches— 
St. Sebald’s, the Frauenkirche, and St. Laurence’s, which, by 
the way, was the church at which Luther preached to such 
dense crowds that his friend Melancthon wondered at his 
ability to face such an audience without embarrassment, and 
was told by Luther that an efficacious means of retaining 
self-command was to regard the heads of the multitude as 
so many iron pots, as he (Luther) was in the habit of doing. 

Yet some joys are still open to us in the zigzag streets, the 
inconvenient houses, with stairlike, red-tiled roofs, suggest- 
ing the exaggerated feminine headgear of the day when 
they were built; the quaint bridge over the stagnant, un- 
wholesome-looking Pegnitz, into which the backs of houses 

slope sheerly, indifferent to the malaria which is inevitable; 
and lastly (though first in our estimation), the marvelous toy 
factories. Toys, forsooth! They are the works of genius; 
embodiments of difficult problems in mechanics; representa- 
tions of every class of beings, human and animal, with all the 
attributes peculiar to each, save life. Rabbits hop and eat cab- 
bages by clockwork; ponies trot and neigh; pianos are 
played by turning a crank, whereupon a number of aristo- 
cratic (if undersized) ladies and gentlemen execute a waltz. 

Then we wander into a narrow by-street and stop, fasci- 
nated, before a tiny ~*~. which boldly bears the legend: 
‘*Horseflesh for sale.” e watch a young girl, carrying a 
basket, enter the shop, and presently, seeing her come out 
again with her twenty pfennigs’ worth of cart-horse steak, 
wonder whether she eats it chopped fine or whether she at- 
tempts to masticate it. 

Not far from there is the Bratwurstglécklein—‘‘ The Little 
Roast Sausage Bell” is the Trilbyesque literal rendering— 
which, though, in reality, only the tiniest of cheap a, 
houses, or rather booths, situated in a wooden hut at the 
corner of the street, is also, in contrast to its prosaic name, 
the most artistic; the compact, yet attractive interior arrange- 
ment of which it might surely pay some proprietors of Amer- 
ican so-called lunch counters to imitate. 

The ‘‘Rose Garden” is a public park devoted entirely to 
the culture of the queen of flowers, and maintained at the 
expense and under the personal supervision of the ladies of 
Nuremburg. It is a gorgeous sight. Despite the climate, 
which is somewhat chilly even in summer, the flowers 
thrive magnificently. Much skill is displayed in their culti- 
vation, and in their enormous size and exquisite gradations 
of color, from a spiritual, translucent white through blush 
and saffron tints and gradually deepening reds until a dusky 
crimson is attained,jthey make a show which creates a last- 
ing impression. 


Rote Songs for Children. Edited by Emilie C. Curtis and Caryl Florio. 
This is a pretty little book of twenty-four pages, prepared for use with the 
Curtis method of voice training, and especially adapted for developing the upper 
and generally neglected registers of the voice, and thus smoothing and purify- 
ing the whole compass. The principle of voice development of children 
adopted by Miss Curtis 1s one which we have often advocated in the Vistror. 
We have always contended that the child-voice, if rightly used, is of as great 
compass as that of the soprano, and that high pitches are better adapted to 
the little voice than low ones. We know that this is not the generally ac- 
cepted idea. People recoil with horror from music for children which goes 
above D (4th line Treble staff), and well they may as long as children are 
permitted through ignorance to yell and howl as they do when they sing. (?) 
Mr. Tomlins and many others besides Miss Curtis have been eenateahiy suc- 
cessful in developing the sweet child-voice. They have not found it necessary 
in order to ‘‘ enthuse the child and get it to sing” to allow it to shout like a 
Comanche Indian, to the utter destruction of the vocal organs, and all beauti- 
ful tones. The real, pure child-voice is of remarkable compass, but it is not a 
loud voice, at least in the early stages of development, but it is sweetly mu- 
sical. Noise is not music, and while children may safely shout and whoop at 
their play with the speaking voice, it is not wise or safe to permit such things 
while singing. 

The Century's Life of oe ee has caught the popular fancy in a most 
surprising way, and copies of the magazine have been hard to get unless pur- 
chased within a few days of issue. ‘‘With each installment,” says the Critic 
ra March 2, ‘‘the value and thoroughness of the work becomes more mani- 

The age revival of interest in Napoleon has been only a lucky coinci- 
dence for The Century, as Professor Sloane’s history was projected, and its 
publication in 1895 decided upon, long before there was, even in France, any 
unusual interest in the character of Bonaparte. 

Anecdotes of Great Musicians, by W. Francis Gates. This is a volume 
of three hundred and nine pages, containing three hundred anecdotes and 
biographical sketches of famous composers and performers. The readers of 
the Vistror are familiar with Mr. Gates’ graphic and interesting manner ot 
writing. These anecdotes, gathered from many sources, are neatly revised and 
arranged, and give a good idea of the peculiarities and characteristics of the 
many noted musical people of renown he are sketched in these pages. It is 
a handy book to have on the table or piano, where it may be caught up in a 
moment or so of leisure, as the sketches are mostly short ones, and each is 
complete in itself. 

eR YD he me me ee 

Tempo pi MARCIA. 

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Copyright, 1895, by THe Jonn CnurRcH Co. 


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=== == : 


Suanener Session of the 


Dr. Geo. F. Root, Founder. 
Frederic W. Root, Director. 
Dr. Ropert GoLDBECK in charge of Piano Depart- 
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Voice Culture, Piano, Violin, Harmony 
and Composition, Notation, Methods, Lec- 
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other distinguished soloists. 

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tiful resort), July 24 to August 15. 

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A superior collection of bright Easter 
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which may or may not be used, as desired. 

Price, 5 cents per copy. 
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A most excellent arrangement of Responsive Read- 
ings and Music for young and old. 28 pp. 
Price, 5 cents per copy. 
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DON "T. | 

A friendly attempt to correct some prevalent errors | 
in musical terminology, 


This little book is an attempt to bring about an 
agreement among musicians as to exactly what our 
well-known musical terms mean and our musical 
signs indicate. Teachers, students, and all thinking 
musicians will be greatly helped by it. 

13 East 16th Street. 

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An ingenious device, showing all the keys and the 
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1408- S Auditorium, - - Chicago. 


Conservatory of Music, 

MISS CLARA BAUR, Directress. 

Day and boarding pupils received. 
Students can enter at any time during 
the school year and summer term. 
For catalogues, address 
Conservatory of Music, 
8. E. Cor. 4th & Lawrence, CINCINNATI, O. 

No. 2449 aa. WASHINGTON. 
To wit, BE 1r REMEMBERED : 

That on the 7th day of January, 1895, Geo. F. Root 
and Geo. Haywood, of the Uni 
ited in this Office the title of a Musical Composition, 
the title or description of which is in the following 
words, to wit: 

Written and Composed by Geo. Haywood. 
Arranged by Geo. F. Root. 

The John Church Company, Cincinnati, 
the right whereof they claim as authors, in conform 
ity with the laws of the United States respecting Copy 
rights. A. R. SPOFFORD, 

Librarian of Comgress. 
In renewal from February 5, 1895. 

States, have depos- | 
| the title of a Musical Composition, the title or de- 


No. 2450 aa. WASHINGTON. 
To wit, Be ir REMEMBERED: 

That on the 7th day of January, 1895, Geo. F. Root, 
of the United States, has deposited in "this: Office the 
title of a Musical Composition, the title or description 
of which is in the following words, to wit: 

Geo. F. Root, 
the right whereof he claims as author, in conformity 
with the laws of the United oe ronan Copy- 

Librarian of Congress. 
In renewal from February 12, 1895. 

No. 414 aa. WASHINGTON. 

To wit, Be 1r REMEMBERED ; 

That on the 2d day of January, 1895, Geo. F. Root, 
of Chicago, I1l., has deposited in this ‘Office the title 
of a Book, the title or escription of which is in the 
following ‘words, to wit: 


A Collection of Vocal Music for Young People, 
embracing ‘“‘ Our Song-Birds’ Singing-School,’’ Music 
for Concert, School and Home, and Songs, Hymns, 

Anthems and Chants, for Worship, 
By Geo. F. Root. 
The John Church Co., Cincinnati, 
the right whereof he claims as author, in conformity 
with the laws of the — States res DEFOR Copy- 

In renewal from January 23, 1895. 

No. 6796 aa. WASHINGTON 
To wit, BE tr REMEMBERED: 

That on the 29th day of January, ry Geo, F. Root, 
of the United States, has deposited in this Office the 
title of a Musical C som position, the title or description 
of which is in the following words, to wit: 

Words by Mattie Winfield, 
Musie by Geo. F. Root, 

the right whereof he claims as author, in conformity 
with the laws of the 7 States rPORD. Copy- 
rights. R. SPOF 

*yheartas of Congress. 

In renewal from March 5, 1895. 


No. 8831 aa. WASHINGTON. 

To wit, Be It REMEMBERED: 

That on the llth day of February, 1895, Geo. F. 
Root, of the United States, has deposited in this Office 
the title of a Musical Composit on, the title or de- 
scription of which is in the following words, to wit: 

Song and Chorus by Geo. F. Root. 
The John Church Company, Cincinnati, 
the right whereof he claims as ooatee. in conform- 
ity with the laws of the Uni States respecting 
Copyrights. R. SPOFFORD, 
Librarian of Congress 
In renewal from February 14, 1895. 

No. 13568 aa. 
To wit, Be tr REMEMBERED: 

That on the 7th day of March, 1895, James R. Mur- 
ray, of the United States, has deposited in this Office 

scription of which is in the following words, to wit: 
Song and Chorus. 
Words by W. D. Smith, Jr. 
Music by James R. Murray. 
The John Church Company, Cincinnati. 

the right whereof he claims as author, in conformity 
with the laws of the U — States res ng Copy- 
rights. . R. SPOFFORD, 

” Librarian of Congress. 

In renewal from March 28, 1895.