The Voice of Music Among The THE LEGENDARY power of music to move great masses of humanity has never been as clearly manifested as now. There seems to be a curious parallel between epochs of great emotional stress, and the birth of great of great music, perhaps because of all the the major arts, music, which is the most untrammeled, and like Literature can transcend three dimensional limits, has a greater power of emotional evocation than any other art. Music today has a greater tendency to draw forth an emotional and even a spiritual response from its immense audiences in the various nations of the world than ever before. And each nation seems to have its own particular composer-its own special voice, as it were trying to express through music, the joys and fears and travails of the nation. A few of these voices are truly international, that is, they do not confine their message to their particular group or even their nation, but speak through the great medium of music to the world as a whole. For example, Shostakovich-who has gathered the Nations potential for feeling of the Russian people and woven it in the dissonances and discords of his monumental music, pausing fleetingly in miniature intaglios of melody to capture for an instant the beauties of a gentler age. Tschaikovsky-whose poetry of expression speaks to the world of childhood as well as to the adult the baser passions into the gold world, transmitting the dross of of an inner happiness through the strange alchemy of his own bright spirit. Richard Wagner-the giant of the sagas, whose architectonic genius built great cathedrals of sound, or the exquisite feelings and beauty of the bird and water music. Then there is Richard Strauss, whose tone poems paint with far richer, more voluptuous colors, and whose music demands great orchestral development. He uses tremendous masses of instruments, and seems possessed of an urge, almost a desperation to awaken humanity, to shake it from its apathy and its blindness to the perils of selfishness. He wants his thunder to reach the sta very heavens and plumb the depths of mankind. Look at his titles: Don Juan. Also Sprach Zarathustra, Death and Tranfiguration. And finally, there is Jean Sibelius, the Finn, whose music. speaks of a greatness now smothered by the debris of petty bickering and petty maneuvering for advantage. We know him chiefly for his Valse Triste and Finlandia, but his is a universal voice, original and unique, exhorting us to that deeper heroism which is based on consecration even martyrdom for an "Idea," as if he exhorted mankind to back its higher concepts at the cost even of sacrifice. These are but five world voices in the realm of music chosen at random. There are many others, especially, in the realm of what is called "popular music." Many people profess a slight contempt for popular music, as if there were fundamental differences between it and classical music. I confess that if there is, I have failed to find it. Basically, it seems as if the only two categories into which music can be divided, are those of good and bad. It must be remembered that much of what today is classical music, was once the popular music of the people, part of their rich reservoir of folklore, part of the very warp and woof of their his tory, their traditions and their lives. Of course, we are speaking of music, not the collection of sounds which passes for popular music, and is calculated to arouse the baser passions and instincts and which usually die a-borning. The music of Albanis, for instance, is entirely based on ageold unwritten melodies, dances and laments of the Spanish people. Even Ravel's imposing and stirring "Bolero" plumbs t the depths of the Spanish heart and, going deeper, touches the Moorish influence which the Arabic world left behind, until we have a glimpse of the Moorish soul being distilled through the Spanish mind. The arias of Schubert, Verdi, Rossini and Donizetti, and in our own country, the songs of Stephen Foster are now part of our musical heritage and are considered classical, but in their time, they were popular music, to be whistled on the streets, in the cafes, etc. To popular music can be given credit for a great achievement, that of paving the way for the appreciation of more complex compositions. It has led audiences to the appreciation of the great works of the masters. Modern orchestral treatment of popular music is one of the main reasons why show music has advanced so greatly, why in many respects IN THE FINE Arts man has traveled farther from the animals and -W. Macneile Dixon in "The Human Situation." (Longmans. SEPTEMBER 15, Eight O'clock.This morning, while I was arranging my books, Mother Genevieve came in and brought me the basket of fruit I buy of her every Sunday. For nearly twenty years that I have lived in this quarter I have dealt in her little fruit-shop. Perhaps I should be better served elsewhere, but Mother Genevieve has but little custom; to leave her would do her harm and cause her unnecessary pain. It seems to me that the length of our acquaintance has made me incur a sort of tacit obligation to her; my patronage has become her property. She has put the basket upon my table, and, as I wanted her husband, who is a joiner, to add some shelves to my bookcase, she has gone down stairs again immediately to send him to me. At first I did not notice either her looks or the sound of her voice, but, now that I recall them, it seems to me that she was not as jovial as usual. Can Mother Genevieve be in trouble about anything? The Family of Michael Arout From the French of Emile Souvestre Poor woman! All her best years were subject to such bitter trials that she might think she received her full share already. Were I to live a hundred years, I should never forget the circumstances which first made her known to me, and which obtained her my respect. It was at the time of my first settling in the faubourg. I had noticed her empty fruit-shop, which nobody came into, and being attracted by its forsaken appearance, I made my little purchases in it. I have always instinctively preferred the poor shops; there is less choice in them, but it seems to me that my purchase is a sign of sympathy with a brother in poverty. These little dealings are almost always an anchor of hope to those whose very existence is in peril the only means by which some orphan gains a livelihood. There the aim of the tradesman is not to enrich himself, but to live. The purchase you make of him is more than an exchange: it is a good action. 1 Mother Genevieve at that time was still young, but had already lost that fresh bloom of youth which suffering causes to wither so soon among the poor. Her husband, a clever joiner, gradually left off working, to become, according to the picturesque expression of the workshops, a worshipper of Saint Monday. The wages of the week, which was always reduced to two or three workingdays, were completely dedicated by him to the worship of this god of the Barriers, and Genevieve was obliged herself to provide for all the wants of the household. A change took place in Michael. He cut all his drinking acquaintances. He went early every morning to his work, and returned regularly in the evening to finish the day with Genevieve and Robert. Very soon he would not leave them at all and he hired a place near the fruit-shop and worked in it on his own account. They would soon have been able to live in comfort had it not been for the exwhich the child required. penses Everything was given up to his education. He had gone through the regular school training, had studied mathematics, drawing and the carpenter's trade, and had only begun to work a few months ago. Till now they had been exhausting every resource which their laborious industry could provide to push him forward in his business, but, happily, all these exertions had not proved useless: the seed had brought forth its fruit, and the days of harvest were close by. While I was thus recalling these remembrances to my mind, Michael had come in and was occupied in fixing shelves where they were wanted. During the time I was writing the notes of my journal I was also scrutinizing the joiner. The excesses of his youth and the labor of his manhood have deeply marked his face, his hair is thin and gray, his shoulders stooping, his legs shrunken and slightly bent. There seems a sort of weight in his whole being. His very features have an expression of sorrow and despondency. He answered my questions by monosyllables and like a man who wishes to avoid conversation. From whence is this dejection, when one would think he had all he could wish for? I should like to know. Ten o'clock.-Michael is just gone down stairs to look for a tool he has forgotten. I have at last succeeded in drawing from him the secret of his and Genevieve's sorrow. Their son Robert is the cause of it. Not that he has turned out ill after all their care-not that he is idle or dissipated; but both were in hopes he would never leave them any more. The presence of the young man was to have renewed and made glad their lives once more; his mother counted the |