Milford chronicle., 1902-11-28
4 CONFESSION IN E MINOR.
Humble AvOvaI of One Who Found
No Melody In CInssfcnI Music


Humble AvOvaI of One Who Found
No Melody In Classical Music.
Not that l know in the least what it
means, this E minor, but it has such a
satisfactory sound. And the confess
sion has to do with Music-music with
a big NJ; no commonplace parlOr mu-
sic, thank you, but pretentiOus, pro
fessional, poster heralded, high art mu-
sic; music made by an orchestra Of
forty pieces and by a trained chorus
of 700 voices.
OratoriO they called it, and a fine,
mouth filling word it is. When l ad- |
mitted never having heard Oratorio, |
they expressed sympathy. you must !
CO." they said ITS grand, maghifi-
| cent, inspiring"
"But l may not understand" l OBJ
iected. classical music is beyond
me-"
"Oh, but every one can appreciate
Oratorio 1t is simple and yet majes-
| tic, beautiful. Besides, the director
deyotes the evening before the per-
/ Torrance to an explanatory lecture
which tells you all about it,"
So l went to hear the director. 1t
was an entertaining talk. He sketched
the dramatic story of Elijah fOrcefully.
In the oratOriO we should hear, so he
said. how MendelssOhn had married
his music to the story; we should hear
how the strings walled in anguish of
the stricken people of Israel how the
brasses voiced JehOvah's thunder. l
enthused; FASTENED for tickets; was
early in my seat.
As a spectacle it was impressive, for
we who listened were 1900, seated
in long human windows while those
who sang were massed impressively,
too, and uncomfOrtably also, l mag
inc. in rows that lowered one above
the other from platform to ceiling In
the center was the big orchestra, and
In front were the professional soloists.
As one emerging from the sea the
leader mounted his perch. As he looked
calmly about the gaze Of 1,4OO alert
eyes centered on the little stick he held
: in his hand. With the little stick he
raped on the rail of his perch. There
fell a hush like that which comes be
fore a storm. He raised his arm. The
hand holding the baton made a quick
movement From the big orchestra
> burst a volume of music. The over.
e ture was begun. Grandly it swung
> along until, with a wavelike motion
y the chorus rose. a whole arm sweeI
e of the little stick and TOO voices were
y blended into one mighty volume o.
y sound.
L 1t was as much like the roar Of sur
q as anything l had ever heard but, a
u least to my ears, it was not music Il
e. vain did listen for harmony, for mel
H. ody; in vain did l try to fit the SCUM
to the sense. "Help, Lord! Wilt tho
ct quite destroy us?" These were tn
er words they were repeating, over an
he over again; not with any regard t
OF their tragic meaning. so far as l coul
n discover, but according to some arb
is trary form fixed by the composer.
r. On and on they sang. the volume no.
al diminishing, now increasing; violin
nc wailing, cymbals ringing, drums throl
rs. bling, brasses braying-and poor m
ur with no music in me, straining ever
nd sense to grasp that which others hear
ut But no music could hear. Humbly
in make the confessional was noise, ju
aet big noise, and nothing more
ere Bahled and depressed, left the aut
lly forum and walked down to the ed
ars of the Atlantic, where the majestic {
al ehestra of old ocean was in the fl
Dse swing of its never ceasing chant
his praise to the Director of all thing
18th That, at least, I could understand
)ne Sewell Ford in Brandur Magazine.