The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1903-07-12

actually thought about his art. and that
too, in spite of the fact that he was only
a viola player. be had ideas about the
0sthetics OF music. He knew things about
composers and compositions.
But he was old and tired. He had been
through it all. He was looking backward.
He felt that he was always playing the
receivable chord in a final cadence, and
that, NO matter how much the end might
be deferred by unexpected suspensions, it
Yves only few bars Of He was ready to
welcome the great double bar and the long
held
He had seen a mad world wag all the
way from julien to Wagner. He knew
its utter fickleness. Re smiled when he
read of Iondon's sudden discovery of
he heard of the worlds discovery Of Ran
and Grieg. Sweet singers ALL God bless
them; but immortals2 bumph! After all,
the world was very young, very young, in
deed, as any old man could easily see.
Only boys and girls who were young them
selves would fail to notice that the world
was a baby, playing every day with a new
bauble. But that, too, Yves not wrong,
Let the young be young, and the old be old,
Nee dulces amores
SpeYnc, puer. ncQuc III choreas.
Donec virenti canities abcst
Morosa.
That was what the aged viola thought
in his own Teutonic language, not in the
words OF Q, Horatius Flaccus. Next to
the old man sat boy, who also played the
viola, but for different reason. The
old man played II because he was no longer
vigorous enough to be first violin. The
boy played it because he was boy and
was not vet to be intrusted with positions
OF importance and responsibility in an
orchestra.
They were fond OF one another, this
AGED viola and the boy, and in fatherly
way the old man sought to instruct the
youth in the customs Of the musical world,
in the meanings OF music and In the nature
of performers and public. The boy did
not always believe the aged viola. Boys
are prone to doubt the truths which are
gained by experience, and even though a
bow plays viola. he is still boy
The orchestra played the unfinished SYM
phony Of Shubert. When II was over
there was an intermission, and tho aged
viola walked very thoughtfully from his
seat.
aof what do you think, fatherf' said the
boy softly.
aOf Mozart dead in the glory OF HIS man
hood. OF Chatterton snufYed out in the blaze
OF youth, of Keats shot into darkness before
he had finished his prelude
~All unfinished? I see,' said the boy.
ayes, unfinished. like this symphony we
have Just played. but they will be finished,
those beautiful lives. somewhere In the
hereafter The symphony will remain in
the world with It's endless Interrogation
mark"
aHow did you like the readingP"
MOST delightful There wasn't any
.Why does he conduct"
.He doesn't, but he likes TO think that he
dc es"
Have you ever conducted, father Is
Z very beautiful9"
aOh, yes. my son. have conducted.
IL was comic opera, which was
neither opera nor comic. Again, 1t was
grand opera. which may have been opera,
but was certainly not grand. Again.
was lust plain entr acte music in theatre
here there was almost as much thought
~ art as there Is In baseball ground Still
again. il was In summer nights concerts
M, these. where tho music makes noise