Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1884-1886, 1886-07-27
DESCRIPTIVE MUSIC.
fHE OCHESTRA INTERPRETS THE
STORY IN ITS OWN WAY.


The True Way To Judge Fairly of the
Music You HearA Trouble Among
the Instruments-A Thunder Clap in q
Storm-The End.
The fat violinists had come up from the
regions below, and were scraping the
strings Of their instruments and testing by
picking pink" pink" PUNK, 'ploonl,
to see if they had slipped any during the
last ten minutes Did you ever hear that
piece!" said my neighbor softly, as they De-
gan the next selection. l never had. well,
l heard it in Paris, and thought it charm
ing. Let the orchestra interpret it for you.
l am very fond Of descriptive music. At
concerts l let the orchestra do everything.
don't care to read the name of the COM
poser of any piece l just shut my eyes,
open my ears wide or let my imagination
loose to enjoy the stories, scenes-harsh or
tender, the storms and the sunshine-which
the orchestra creates and fashions and tells
me inc in its own way. l somehow think it
is the only true way to judge fairly of
what you hear Just try my plan for once, !"
and he slipped down lower in his seat,
locked his fingers one into the other across
his lap.
PATH BY THE CLOVER FIELD.
/ tried to do as he babe me. The first
bars were clear, sweet and sonorous arpeg-
gios, possibly beautiful Village scene at
sunrise" Some light, tripping, feeting
notes, delicate, airy things, were, l thought,
the thin, unsubstantial mists of morning
fol inf ho
the deep, grave and slightly unsteady voice
of the viola along the path by the clover
field. His tone indicates satisfaction with
himself and peace with the world for the
present He does not soliloquize long be
fore he meets the cello, who tells a tale Of
wrong in a sort of low moan. The story is
a sad one. 1t is clear, for viola's sympathy
becomes aroused and she threatens to lose
her head The two groan together in
most melancholy and touching way. Can
it be story of domestic wrong, or of young
love trampled under foot after it had given
its all, or the "blighted affection of age"
am curious to know. There is no longer
any mistake, for here comes the shrewish
clarinet with her sharp tongue which she
puts into the master at once and stirs up
discord The three have a short talk and
the cello soon gets tired of the clarinet and
tells her to go, but she will not
This threatened trouble is averted by
clear note from horn. Are we going to
see hunting party come by. No, no, it's
that old man over there next to the wall
blowing his nose. This note is not in the
score, and we will not let it have any place
in the story. During the confusion the
flute, generally SO mild and persuasive, has
come into the party, but in a ba4 humor.
1t is teasing with might and main 1t snaps
at the first violin and tries to worry him by
repeating everything he says, but keeps two
or three bars behind, just to get ali the
other folks into bad humor. The double
BASES cannot stand such provoking treat
ment any longer and break in with an
ominous growl, which makes matters worse.
The quarrel is getting hotter, and the flute
is more angry every moment, and is as
spiteful As possible with the violin. There
is no getting rid of her. The other violins
join with their injured brother, and come
down in whirlwind of sound ON that flute.
The poor thing is drowned for second or
two, bnt when last heard was defiant still
THUNDER CLAP IN A STORM.
All of sudden "Dzing." crashes out the
cymbals like clap of thunder in rising
storm Perfect silence is the result Here
is then, after all, what was wanted to break
up the quarrel One such blow seems to
have been enough. Not much. Like little
cricket, when quiet is restored, the flute
pokes its head out and says, half timidly,
Peep, peep" "Dzing," comes another clap,
as if to say, Not enough YETI" More
silence, but the little peep, peep" is heard
again, which is growing holder every sec
ond. 'Dzing" peep, peep" "dzing"
how o<< oh O<h nd
have cut and thrust in regular duel style.
That is plucky flute, and the big strong
cymbals ought to give the little thing some
show, even if it is apparently out OF humor.
But they will not, though she stands up and
fires back in fine style. The quarrel, as
might be expected, involves other instru-
ments; and finally, every one is forced to
take one side or the other They do so,
protesting tinidly at first, but it soon gets
worse From crescendo it is soon almost
sforzanda. The cymbals think they can do
everything and fight ey cry body, but the cry
is, Down with the loud mouthed, obstinate
creatures" The excitement has spread to
the conductor. He stands on the tips Of his
thin pumps. the skirts of his swallow tails
fly from one side to the other OF his body,
his hair is in confusion, for his head is never
still, and. his white gloved hand, holding
alolt the silver tipped baton, is saving the
air and beating in every direction.
1t is wild old time. Every instrument
is now in the thick Of the fight, and no out
slider, except possibly my neighbor, who has
never opened his eyes, but is resting as
calmly as if asleep, can see where the thing
will end Such a whistling and bowling
and scraping. Look at those musicians
They are full of music Every fiber in
their bodies is vibrating to the touch OF
some emotion or other. What will lie the
result of this thingl 1t is certainly pitched
battle and hard fight between the cymbals
with all the others combined Who will
wins The below of that saxophone sets the
conductor dancing; it may be from rage at
a false note. No, l think not it must have
been in the score The conductor evidently
knows the whole thing. He wanted to see
those scymbals beaten. and welcomed rein
forcementa The turning point has come
and, the cymbals worsted. retreat from the
field, and Quiet settles down at last, which
continues but for moment. when the ra +
urous applause of the audience sets the whole
building vibrating. The conductor turned,
bowed graciously and wiped the moisture
from his brow, and the musicians rested
their instruments quietly on their knees
My neighbor had opened his eyes and
partially raised himself, but had uttered no
word. | heard the man next to him on the
other side say to him curiously That was
a very funny thing, wasn't it, What is
the name of it
That" he answered slowly and impress
sively, lis Memberships Hymn to Grief
and is not to me. sir, at all funny, but very,
very fine" l had nothing to say. Just at
that moment l caught glimpse Of the
young couple They were still laughing and
talking. baltimore American
Photographs in the Deep Sea-
And now comes q man who wants 70