Scan 16
Musical Courier 1898-08-22: Vol 37 Iss 963, 1898
81 lines. Read by computer on 21 September 2026. Printed page 17. See the scan on archive.org.
1THE MUSICAL COURIER.
3the broader, virile traits of a nation's character. History proves that. But art is a necessary complement to patriotism and generous culture by no means indicates degeneration. It is rather sad to see a noble intellect like Tolstoy's growing bitter in its judgments, hard in its denunciations and following in the footsteps of the sensational Max Nordau. Modern art is the expression of modern humanity. It must stand or fall on this relationship. We, therefore, do not agree with Tolstoy's conclusions, although he lashes with vigor many who are corrupt in the temple of art.
5THE VIOLIN IN VAUDEVILLE.
7THE announcement that Camilla Urso, the well-known violin virtuosa, is to play at the vaudeville theatres suggests several trains of thought, no one of them pleasantly suggestive. That an artist, one who has played with unvarying success on both continents, should chose to make her exit in the sphere in the continuance performance is something we do not pretend to explain. It concerns Madame Urso alone. It also suggests the uncomfortable idea that the legitimate concert field no longer offers a secure footing for first-class artists when the novelty of their playing has worn off. If this be the case, then there is something rotten in our boasted musical culture. Art works are to be listened to for their own intrinsic worth, not alone because of their interpreters.
9However, the question at issue is whether an artist does not degrade art itself by playing before mixed audiences. We are no lovers of an aristocratic art. We believe in art for the million, that is, if the million is prepared to sit still and listen. Democracy and art should be inseparable in this land, but are they? The late Edouard Remenyi literally died on the vaudeville stage, and who did not pity his taking off amidst such surroundings? Think of a man who played in company with Liszt and Brahms waiting his "turn" to "go on," being sandwiched between a female contortionist and a Hibernian "sidewalk conversation." The pity of it!
11There is no poverty that should drive a great artist to the vaudeville. Better the dull routine of pedagogy than the barren successes before audiences made up for the most part of the musically uncultivated. We hear a protest: "But it is before just such people that good music should be played." We gravely doubt if genuine missionary work can be accomplished at such places. The programs prove it. Fancy playing Beethoven after the Human Snake has wriggled before the footlights! Fancy giving the simplest song without words with the echoes of a popular negro tune roaring in the ears of the audience. Music needs its peculiar atmosphere; it requires dignified surroundings above all—calm, peace, repose. Can you imagine such a classic atmosphere at a vaudeville house? This species of entertainment was manufactured for the vast floating population of a great city, above all, for idle women and children. Enter Camilla Urso, who must in a moment create all the accessories, the milieu of the concert room. Will she be able to accomplish the miraculous? Can she lift her audiences to her level, whether she plays Bach or Johnny Graham?
13We greatly doubt it.
15The associations are too sordid, the time allowed to the performed too limited, the contiguity of song and dance men and women anything but elevating. Art is in the long run bound to suffer. No great singers have yet appeared in vaudeville nor have there been a demand for pianists. Stringed instrument performers alone have ventured where the rest have feared to tread. We hope that our predictions will not be verified in the case of Madame Urso, that she will be of musical benefit to her audiences, but we fear it will be with her as it was with Remenyi—a much regretted experiment.
17A CHANT OF AUTUMN.
18(After the French of Paul Verlaine.)
19The wailing tones
20And viol-moans
21Of autumn make
22A wound that grieves
23My heart and leaves
24A weary ache.
26All breathless—pale—
27I hear the tale
28Of hours chime,
29And weeping sore
30I see once more
31The vanished time.
33Then I—I go
34As haps to blow
35The storm—and sped
36Or there, or here,
37Like a leaf I veer,
38The leaf that's dead.
40—Mabel Peacock, in the Pall Mall Magazine.
42YES, but where is Verlaine's music, his most melancholy music? It was bound to evaporate in the translation.
44Israel Zangwill, the famous author, wit, man of the world and traveler, will arrive in New York next Saturday. He is to lecture next fall under Major Pond's management. That this brilliant novelist will make a hit I do not doubt. His superlative cleverness of manner, natural humor and erudition are all his own. He is Zangwill-ian from his toes to his teeth, from his nose to his knees. There is a pleasant hour ahead for his audiences.
46Oh, where is the scoundrel who played upon my feelings last week by sending me a letter from Tolstoy, from Tolstoy in Kiew! Last Saturday I got a postal card which was dated August 18 and from Manyunk, near Philadelphia. It read as follows: "Most honored nonentity,—The wages of sin is death. Yours, in Christ, Lyof N. Tolstoy."
48This is too much. I shall seek the protection of the United States postal authorities.
50My mail last week—for some occult reason—was remarkable for the names attached to letters and postal cards. An epidemic of correspondence seems to have broken out among the celebrated men of Europe. At first I fancied that I was mistaken for the subscription clerk of THE MUSICAL COURIER, but all were personally addressed to me. Why, I cannot pretend to tell. Now, if it had been Vance Thompson or Hugh Craig or the Boss—but it was not. I do not think from the nature of the communications that I am violating any confidences; so here goes for a nice and varied budget.
52The first was from Theodor Leschetizky. It was dated from Ischl and read thus: "I say, young man, don't be so fresh (frech). When you know as much about piano teaching and matrimony as I do, why, I'll give you permission to drink coffee in my presence. Give my regards to Liebling, of Chicago.
54LESCHETIZKY I. REX."
56Paderewski writes me: "Did you knuckle down to that finger story? What a carnard! I did lose two fingers, but only for a moment. I was measuring in Manchester some rare old Glenlivet. Love to Tretbar and the boys. Yours, IGNACE."
58Here is another sort: "If you ever dare to mention my name in your cursed columns I'll have McKinley to shut up your shop. How dare you, how dare you?"
59SIMON SAGASTA."
61I never mentioned his name.
63How do you like this and on a postal: "When you are down my way drop in. I've just finished 'Irene,' and when the public hears it 'Cavalleria Berolina' will be forgotten. No need of Verdi building that asylum for poor composers. He has furnished a room for me which he calls 'Camera di Mascagni,' but I'll die rich yet; yes, even if I have to start the fire in the old man's bake ovens at Livorno. In heat, yours, PIETRO."
65Quite characteristic, isn't it? But this cablegram received on Monday is much more startling. It came "via Milano" and reads: "Have just read the score of 'Irene.' Inferno! Joe."
66It was of course from Verdi. Dear me, how these celebrities do make life busy for me!
68I was somewhat startled at this letter from Herbert Bismarck: "Sir—My late father having so often admired your nerve I am requested to announce that by the terms of his will you are bequeathed a certain amount, the said amount to be applied to start a new music journal that will not contain a single advertisement of a piano manufacturer. Yours, BISMARCK."
70Thanks. I don't want the money. The paper has been started. It is started once a year. That's all that ever happens to it, except its funeral.
72Ha! ha! here is one on somebody. "Chere Raconteur, I enclose a cheque for 1,000 frs. Please use the money as you see fit. Take a vacation. Give your pen a rest. Give your poor readers a rest. Get the hay fever and go to the mountains."
73A TOI C. SAINT-SAENS."
75I have the hay fever, but he forgot to enclose the check. I hope it will come by next mail. I need the rest. So do you.
77This one does not appeal to me. "Respected Editor—We notify you to notify him that we have appointed Henry T. Finck as the chairman of the Brahms monument fund. He is always dead against Johannes. Now is his chance."
78JULIUS SCHWALBENFUES."
80I was particularly pleased to hear from Edward Grieg. He tells me that he is composing Triolen at Bergen, and has just made a new orchestral garb for his only piano concerto. This is the sixth so far, but Grieg confesses that he likes rewriting his old things best and hopes before he dies to reach his "Humoresken," which he intends arranging for organ or bagpipes. A singularly modest, reticent talent is Grieg's. I am so glad he started out with such few musical ideas. Otherwise we should have been deluged with his stinging northern spray. They say at Bergen that Ibsen contemplates a hearing of his "Peer Gynt," music by Grieg. He has never heard it. Ibsen hates music and G. Bernard
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