Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1886-12-23
A MUSICAL BEDLAM.
sreANeEes suRFEITED WITH SWEET
SOUNDS IN THE CITIES.

SOUNDS IN THE CITIES.
The Itinerant Minstrel and His singing
sl.ve.-strsius of Music Everywhere in
M,Ia,-No Escape From the Terrible
Ordeal
Many Of these Italian exiles. however, wnom
7 beve encountered in Paris, Brussels, Lau-
same and Geneva, rarely stoop to manual
labor in order to exc out q living Before
leaving their native land they kidnap boys
and girls who have good voices, or bring their
own children with them, and train them up
70 play tambourines and concertinas, or
master the flute and the violin, and, once
they have received this elementary instrue-
tion. the impressario travels all Europe with
them, and sometimes crosses over to America,
where he generally fencies that large Tor
tune is to be made out of the material winch
he has got ready on hand. Cafes are gen.
orally the haunts Of these itinerant Ministries
When he brings them into any town or city
he takes up bis quarters in one OF the back
lanes. and sends them out TO sing. IL they 90
not lay certain amount of money at his feet
at night when they come home, he beats them
and sends them to bed supperless, and the
result is that when they grow to the years OF
maturity they abandon the old tyrant, and
he is forced to seek @other fields and pastures
newn for his fortune making.
A SINGING SLAVE
The cruelties practiced on these little ones
are fearful to contemplate. Often have
seen a pretty, dark-eyed Neapolitan signor1ne
looking pale and haggard at the early age OF
12 or Is summers; her features robbed OF
that rich red color Of southern climes and a
pitiful narrowing gaze in her orbs, as she
glanced meekly at you and pleaded mutely
for copper. Others l have beheld with
scars and bruises on their cheeks-sad re-
minders Of the ferocity Of their owners, who
pocket the swag, lol lazily at home all day
while their miserable little hacks are wasting
their lives away in the fetid atmosphere OF
low drinking saloons crying for aims and
forced to listen to the ribald conversation OF
besotted drunkards.
found one of these pale-faced children
tugging at my coat tails one evening, as
was leaning over the battlements Of one OF
the bridges overlooking the Rhone at Geneva.
When l turned around l saw prematurely
ased child, with tear-laden eyes, holding out
the palm of her hand and looking up piteous-
ly at me. She held very old violin under
her arms and a pair of tiny cymbals was
attached to hempen cord that encircled her
waist @Ah monsieur" she cried, in broken
French, al have been out all day playing, but
the times are bad and people have no money
to throw away on me. l only earned 10 sous
and papa always beats me when do not
bring him franc, and now it is too late to
play any more and feel so i'll that l fear
will die if he knocks me down and kicks me
as he often did before. VIII the monsieur,
for the love Of the Madonna, have pity on
nai o cell inspire monsieur to have pity
en- msT
A MUSICAL BEDLAM.
Milan is-so far as the cultivation Of music
Il conoernsd-a typical Italian city. 1t has
its world-famed Scala where Verdis new COM
position is to be played during the forthcom-
ing season, and conservatory for operatic
pupils. Every day strains Of music fall al
most ceaselessly on the ear everywhere. With
the first flush Of early day one hears the
martial ring of the military bands as they
march at the head Of their respective regi-
ments for drill to the spacious piazza behind
the Foro Bonaparte, where MacMahon's con-
quering legions passed in review after the
battle Of Magenta
Throughout the entire day you are sure to
be charmed Tor bored by rowing songstsrs if
you happen to live in room looking on the
courtyard; for into these yards do they
throng in ever increasing numbers-reed
players and harpers, cymbal clasherg and
violinists, till eventually they kick up such
an internal racket that you might well fancy
yourself in Bedlam during such an operation.
1t is in the evening, however, that this rush
of sounds and jarring melodies reaches its
climax. If you enter any of the respectable
cafes to take an aperitive, you see an orches-
ranged before you, and you have got to listen
-nolens, volens-to snatches from Verdi and
Beethoven.
NO ESCAPE FOR YOU.
Trip into a restaurant, and sit down to din
ner During the half hour you spend in
swallowing veal outlet and a miniature
pyramid of maize, washed down with half
bottle of barolo, no less than three or four
groups of vocal or instrumental musicians
will have come in or gone out, after shatter-
ing your nerves and relieving you of any
stray coppers you may possess. Then, if the
thought strikes you to wind up the evening
over a coffee and brandy on the terrace of a
cafe, shadowed over by trees and trellised
vines, harmony, the mother of the muses., or
discord, born of devils, viii soothe your
weary soul, or sensibly interfere with your
digestion. In the public parks and squares;
in the streets and along the avenues; in the
by-lanes and alleys, you will have to jostle
up against believing sopranos or open your
ears to the painful infiction of a wheezy
treblel
Go where you will you cannot escape from
the terrible ordeal Pandemonium spreads its
canopy over your head, and ranges its walls
and pillars on every side of you. If you cry
out aloud against the nuisance, and publicly
appeal to be delivered from it, you are de
nounced as a sour crab and a soulless loutl
The finger of scorn will be pointed at you as
at one who cannot raise himself from the de-
grading level of the brute-as one who has no
heart for the sublime, and no feeling for the
the beautiful-a crusty old dog, whose only
fate it is to wallow in the mire of his own
coarse and stupid bestiality MILAN Cor. San
Francisco Chronicle