cast off the yoke of a European monarchy and became a republic,
there was small time in the lives of Americans for music, art, and
all the other finer elements of civilization. It was necessary that
men should explore and open up the vast rich country in which they
lived. They must build cities and plant fields with grain; they must
dig deep mines and find coal and metals, and they must cut timber
from the forests for the needs of the nation. Also, they found it
necessary to develop the government of their new nation, and form
from the wilderness, where once only the Indians dwelt, new states to
increase the union of the great Republic.
But through all these years of labor there remained in the minds
of men an appreciation of those other more beautiful factors of
civilization; memories of an inheritance that were like dreams from
which these pioneers waited to be awakened by someone who, at the
right time, would come to them and, understandingly, would point out
the way. The love of music was in their hearts.
Meanwhile, in the town of Essen, in Germany, by the North Sea, was
born, on the eleventh of October, 1835, a boy, Theodore Thomas,
who in a few short years was destined to bring to the great United
States that appreciation of music of which it was now so thoroughly
unconscious.
The boy’s father was the Stadtpfeifer, or town musician, of Essen. It
was a position of honor, for the Stadtpfeifer played on all important
occasions, and many great musicians have held this title.
From infancy the boy showed an aptitude for music. At the age of
five he played the violin in public, and he spent as much of his
play-time as he could with his father’s orchestra, playing his violin
and reading all the new music he could find.
When he was ten years old, the family emigrated to America. It was
the land of promise, and a bigger and brighter future seemed to await
them in the vast free United States than in the sleepy German village
where for generations their ancestors had been born and lived and
died.
This was before the days of fast steamships; then the passage of the
Atlantic was made in sailing vessels, and often the voyage lasted as
many weeks as now it is measured by days. The Thomas family found
passage on an American vessel; and it was six long weeks after their
departure that they landed, on a hot July morning in the year 1845,
in the city of New York.
There was little or no real music in the United States. A few people
played the piano or cornet, there were a number of brass bands, and
some of the theatres boasted of a few musicians, but orchestras and
good music were unknown.
The Thomas family was a large one, and the father worked far into
the night, playing in theatre orchestras, to provide for his wife
and children. It was only natural that young Theodore, with his
musical talent, should be called upon to help; and so almost from
the beginning the boy labored with the father, playing his violin in
various theatres, at a dancing-school, and wherever he could earn an
honest dollar.
Three years later the father enlisted in a navy band, and the boy
followed him, playing second horn to the father’s first. But a year
later, both father and son left the navy; and as the former was now
able alone to provide for the family, young Theodore found himself
free to carry out his own plans and lay the foundations for his
future.
With a little box of clothing, his violin, and a bundle of posters
announcing a concert by “Master T-T,” Theodore set out alone to
try his fortune with the world. For a year he wandered through the
Southern states, giving his concerts in hotel dining-rooms, in
schoolhouses, or wherever he considered it possible to gather an
audience. As the people arrived, Theodore would stand at the door and
take in the money; then, when he thought that all who were coming
were present, he would hurry to the front of the hall and begin the
concert.
A year later he was back again in New York, poor in pocket but rich
in experience of the world. “I was then fifteen years old,” he later
wrote, “and somehow had recognized the necessity of studying if I
expected to accomplish anything in this world. But what? I did not
know, of course, that a general education was needed, or even what it
meant. My first idea was to become a virtuoso, so I began to practise
and play in concerts.”
Shortly after his return to New York, the fifteen-year-old boy
was engaged as the leading violinist in the orchestra of a German
theatre. But this experience gave him more than an actual living; for
here he became acquainted with the plays of the great German poets
and masters of literature, and he also widened his musical horizon
far beyond the rather limited boundaries which had up to that time
confined it.
During the next two or three years his musical education prospered.
Great singers and musicians began occasionally to visit America:
Jenny Lind, Sontag, Mario, Grisi, Bosio, and Alboni. Thomas played
everywhere in concerts and operas, and this gave him constant
opportunity to hear these artists under the best of conditions. “The
pure and musical quality of their art,” he has said, “was of great
value in forming the taste of an impressionable boy at the outset of
his career.” The influence of this experience did much to prepare him
for his own triumphs in coming years.
There were at that time no real orchestras in America. An orchestra
meant to Thomas a selected organization of skilled musicians
“sufficiently subsidized to enable it to hold the rehearsals
necessary for artistic performances, its object and aim to be to
attain the highest artistic performance of master-works.” Of the
existing orchestras of the time all were of negligible quality, and
their leaders mere “time-beaters,” instead of true musicians.
But at this time such a leader appeared for a short period in the
circle of Thomas’s life. Karl Eckert, the leader of the orchestra
accompanying Mademoiselle Sontag, appeared in New York, and Thomas
secured a position as one of the first violinists in the orchestra,
a position from which he was soon promoted to leader of the second
violins. Thomas gave his best effort to his new work. It was a
place of responsibility, and the boy was young, but he saw his
opportunity, grasped it, and held it.
The following year Thomas won promotion to _Konzert-meister_, or
leader of the first violins; and here his extreme genius became
the more apparent, for he was now the leader of men many of whom
were old enough to be his father. This was the definite beginning
of his career, for the experience of playing in a well-organized
orchestra gave him a thorough schooling, not only in his duties as
Konzert-meister but—and this was of particular value to him—in the
practical business side of orchestral management.
In 1853 his education was further broadened by a year in the
orchestra of Jullien, a famous European conductor. This was the first
time that he had heard or played in a large and complete orchestra,
and the result was that he was now ready to step out from the ranks
and begin to develop his ability as an individual and a leader.
For about twelve years the New York Philharmonic Society had
struggled, against popular indifference, to create a source of real
music in the community. In 1854 Thomas was elected a member. He was
nineteen years old. For thirty-six years he was destined to hold a
more or less close association with it, first as violinist and later
as its leader.
In the year 1855 William Mason, “a refined, sincere and highly
educated musician,” organized a quartette of string players. Thomas
was invited to play first violin, although he was the youngest member
of the quartette. Mason played the piano, and the other members were
Carl Bergmann, J. Mosenthal, and G. Matzka. It was an association of
true artists, and its influence was of great consequence to Thomas in
the opportunity which it afforded for the expression of his art and
in the lasting friendships which it formed.
The concerts which were given by the quartette were known as “chamber
concerts,” and the programmes included only the best music for the
string quartette, or for a sonata or trio with piano accompaniment.
Three mornings a week were given up to rehearsals, and as only
six programmes were arranged for the year’s repertoire, the deep
interest and enthusiasm of all the members is apparent. “It was this
exhaustive study of master-works, especially those of Beethoven,
continued through fourteen years, which gave Thomas his mastery of
the string choir of the orchestra, and his profound insight into the
classical school of music.”
The first experience of Theodore Thomas in conducting an opera is
characteristic of the man and illustrates his fine self-confidence
and his instant acceptance of opportunity. One evening he came home
from his work and settled down in an easy chair for a few hours of
rest and relaxation. A few blocks away, at the Academy of Music, an
opera (Halévy’s “Jewess”) was to be sung. The house was filled and an
impatient audience waited for the curtain: but the conductor was ill,
and there was no one to take his place. Someone thought of Thomas,
and a messenger was sent to ask him if he would conduct the opera.
Thomas had never before conducted an opera; he was wholly unfamiliar
with the one in question. But his answer was an immediate “I will.”
And he did, with complete success.
But the limitations of the opera, the Philharmonic, and the quartette
could not satisfy him, and in 1862, for the first time, he announced
an orchestral concert under his own direction. This was the first
“Thomas concert.” The orchestra consisted of about forty players.
In the programme it is interesting to read the titles of two
compositions which had never before been played in America. Here was
the intimation of his life-policy of giving his American audience the
best current music, often before it was completely recognized in the
Old World.
“In 1862 I concluded to devote my energies to the cultivation of
the public taste for instrumental music. Our chamber concerts had
created a spasmodic interest, our programmes were reprinted as models
of their kind, even in Europe, and our performances had reached a
high standard. As concert violinist, I was at that time popular,
and played much. But what this country needed most of all to make
it musical, was a good orchestra, and plenty of concerts within the
reach of the people.”
After several seasons of occasional concerts, Thomas determined to
organize an orchestra of his own. There was no endowment, there were
no backers. All the responsibility of organization and finance fell
on the shoulders of the young leader. The orchestra was called the
“Theodore Thomas Orchestra,” and it was truly his, in name and fact.
With a firm determination to bring the highest form of music to the
people and to teach them thoroughly to enjoy it, he began a regular
series of evening concerts; and after a season of moderate success,
he inaugurated a series of Summer-Night concerts, given in the open
air in a park in the city.
The life-work of Theodore Thomas was begun; the little violin-player
from an obscure foreign village was fast assuming the musical
leadership of a nation—a nation to which he gave musical standards
and an understanding of his art.
In the next few years a number of important events brightened the
steady work which had become now necessary to his success. The
leadership of the Brooklyn Philharmonic Society was awarded him, a
position of high honor which enabled him to employ his own orchestra
in a series of twenty additional concerts. His marriage to Miss Minna
L. Rhodes, an event which brought into his life much happiness and
an influence which did much to hasten the development of his rare
abilities, occurred during this period. Finally, in 1867, a short
trip to Europe became possible; and at London, Paris, Munich, Vienna,
Dresden, and Berlin he listened to the performances of the most
celebrated European orchestras and gained much by comparison of them
with his own. Moreover, on his return to the United States, he was
enabled to give to his audiences the most modern music played as he
had heard it under the leadership of the composers themselves.
The thought has often occurred, Why did not Theodore Thomas himself
become a composer? To be sure, on a few occasions compositions of
his own were given to the public, but this happened only during his
earlier career. The answer may be quoted in his own words: “As a
young man I wished to be a composer, but circumstances forced me into
the executant’s career. My creative vein was worthy of development
had I had the time for it, but it fell short of genius, and I
believed I could do more for my art and my country by familiarizing
the people with the literature already created than by adding to it
myself. The exacting nature of my work in the orchestra required
all my time and strength, and made another kind of serious work
impossible; and as long as I could not give the time necessary
to produce compositions which would be satisfactory to myself, I
preferred to let it alone altogether.”
The winter concerts and the Summer-Night concerts in the Central Park
Garden were continued; but the revenue from the winter concerts fell
short of the sum which the expenses of the organization required,
and in 1868 Thomas decided to give them up and play in New York City
in the summer only. During the winter months he planned to carry his
orchestra about the country, and by playing in all the larger cities,
not only assure himself of larger houses, but at the same time widen
the scope of the musical education which he longed to afford the
entire country.
Beginning in the year 1869, for twenty-two years Thomas toured the
length and breadth of the land. The Southern states and New England
heard his rare programmes; San Francisco and Montreal anticipated
with eagerness his next arrival; and even to the new frontier lands
of Texas the tireless conductor led his little company of musicians.
For years identified with New York City, he now became a national
figure, an individual who had given himself to and was claimed by the
entire country.
Among the first cities to give him recognition were Boston and
Cincinnati. In the former city a musical critic wrote: “The visit
of this famous orchestra has given our music-lovers a new and
quick sensation. Boston has not heard such performances before. We
thank Mr. Thomas for setting palpably before us a higher ideal of
orchestral execution.” In Cincinnati music had long been an important
part of the life of the city. “We have not seen at any time audiences
so wrought upon as those that attended the concerts of Theodore
Thomas”; and “the finest orchestral music that has ever been given
in this city,” wrote the newspapers. It was the same everywhere:
wherever the orchestra played, praise unstinted was accorded.
During this period of his life Thomas devoted a considerable part of
his energies to the conducting of “festivals” in the large cities
of the country. These festivals were elaborately planned musical
programmes, in which the orchestra and often several hundred voices
took part. The festivals were in some cities annual affairs, in
which the local singing societies coöperated. The festivals held in
New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago were particularly popular, and
their success and popularity may be truly said to have been almost
entirely due to the untiring work of their great conductor.
But success and recognition in the lives of great men rarely come
without compensating failures and disappointments; and in the life of
Theodore Thomas were many days when failure seemed to be his chief
reward. The great Chicago fire in 1871, which destroyed almost the
entire city, caused him a financial loss that he was hardly able to
bear. Then, in 1876, came the Philadelphia Centennial Exposition,
commemorating the hundredth anniversary of the founding of the United
States. A great musical programme was planned and Thomas was honored
with its entire direction. But the crowds visiting the exposition
did not appreciate the concerts, and to the deep disappointment
of Thomas and the committee behind the plan, they were so poorly
attended that it was soon necessary to abandon them. This was a hard
blow to Thomas. He had lost much money on account of the Chicago
disaster, and now this new calamity increased the losses which he
could ill afford. Financial ruin faced him. His large and valuable
musical library, his only asset, was seized by the sheriff to pay
the debts of the orchestra. The library consisted of musical scores,
collected throughout a lifetime, without which he could not conduct
his orchestra. Only the kindness of a loyal friend, who bought up
the library and gave it back to Thomas several years later, saved
him from complete disaster. As it was, he might well have gone
into bankruptcy and settled his debts; but his fine sense of honor
prevailed, and he preferred to assume his responsibilities in full
and meet them in their entirety in later years.
In 1878 he received an offer to establish and direct a college of
music which a number of influential and wealthy men proposed to found
in the city of Cincinnati. Thomas gladly undertook the directorship,
and a splendid institution developed under his wise guidance; but
the scheme which he planned was greater than the board of directors
desired; and, seeing that it would be impossible for him to carry out
his complete plans, he resigned from his office in 1880 and returned
to his former work as an orchestra leader.
Another trip to Europe brightened the gloom which had surrounded the
recent years of disappointment, and the recognition which now began
to be accorded him helped to bring back his spirit of optimism for
the future. The conductorship of the London Philharmonic Society was
offered to him; a high honor which only his love for his adopted
country forced him to refuse. In the same year the honorary degree of
Doctor of Music, “by way of recognition of the substantial service
which he has rendered to musical culture in the United States,” was
conferred upon him by Yale University. Other universities later
conferred similar degrees, and of the many honors which came to him
there were none which he more highly prized.
The next few years were years of triumph, for during this period
Thomas devoted himself to the management of great musical festivals
in New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago, and finally, in 1885, conducted
a festival tour from New York to San Francisco.
Another financial setback came now, hard on the heels of this period
of success, for he was induced to accept the musical leadership of an
American opera company, an enterprise which seemed to contain every
necessary element for success. But after a short life the entire
project proved itself a failure, and once again Thomas returned to
the orchestra, which for the rest of his life he was destined never
again to leave. In 1889 the death of his wife came as another blow
which seemed impossible, for the time, to bear. But a new and final
period in his life was already dawning, a period of recognition and
accomplishment.
Theodore Thomas had once said: “Chicago is the only city on the
continent, except New York, where there is sufficient musical culture
to enable me to give a series of fifty successive concerts.” In 1881
a permanent orchestra was established in Boston, and Chicago became
ambitious to follow the example. The leadership of the new Chicago
orchestra was offered to Thomas. New York had in a large measure
failed to fulfill his expectations. But what New York would not
provide, Chicago offered. The opportunity could not be refused, and
Thomas accepted.
Conditions for the founding of a permanent Chicago orchestra were
far from favorable. There was no building suitable for orchestral
purposes; the cultivated class of the population was small, and,
moreover, the city did not afford musicians of a quality suited for
the formation of the orchestra. But Thomas throve on adversity.
From New York he imported sixty musicians, of whom half a dozen had
been members of the old New York Thomas Orchestra, and with thirty
selected Chicago players he completed the necessary quota of ninety
men. Concerts were given in buildings unsuited for this kind of
entertainment, under the most trying conditions, but the public was
taught to understand the worth of the great undertaking by the most
carefully arranged programmes.
Success came at last. For a period the expenses of the orchestra were
carried by a number of liberal and far-sighted citizens; but finally
it was decided to find out how sincerely such music was actually
desired by the people. A general appeal for an endowment fund was
made, the fund to be invested in a suitable home for the orchestra.
The result was far beyond the wildest hopes of the projectors of the
plan. In less than a year almost $700,000 was subscribed by over
eight thousand subscribers, from every corner of the vast city, from
every class of society, from rich and from poor.
It was the realization of the dream of Thomas’s youth. The home
of the Thomas Orchestra was dedicated in 1904. This building,
contributed by the people that the music which he had brought into
their lives might become a part of their existence, is his monument,
which will long endure. But more lasting than those walls of stone is
the recognition which history will accord to him who in his way made
the world a better living-place for his countrymen.
Theodore Thomas died in the year that followed the dedication of the
home of his orchestra. The fourteen final years of his life had found
in Chicago the material appreciation which he deserved. A second
marriage—this time to Miss Rose Fay—brought him its happiness. With
no precedents, no traditions, and no experience of others to guide
him, he had done the kind of work for music in the United States that
the first settlers had done when they ploughed their first furrows in
the wilderness. He had blazed the trail; he had opened the way that
others might follow on.
“German-born, associated with German musicians all through his life,
meeting them daily, and living as it were in a German atmosphere, yet
he was the strongest of Americans in sentiment, disposition, feeling
and patriotism. Many a time have I heard him resent foreign slurs
upon American institutions, and defend the national government’s
policy against its critics. His love for the United States, where
he had lived from boyhood, and his respect and admiration for the
broad-minded views of its people as well as their public spirit,
was deep, hearty, and sincere.” Such was Theodore Thomas in the
estimation of one who knew him well.
His creed was simple, but it was a creed from which he never
deviated. “Throughout my life my aim has been to make good music
popular, and now it appears that I have only done the public justice
in believing, and acting constantly on the belief, that the people
would enjoy and support the best in art when continually set before
them in a clear and intelligent manner.”
VI
ANDREW CARNEGIE
_Born in Dunfermline, Scotland, 1835_
_Died in Lenox, Massachusetts, 1919_
The little town of Dunfermline in Scotland has for centuries been
famous for its weaving. For generations have the sturdy inhabitants
devoted their lives to the looms. And here, in this quiet and humble
corner of the busy world, was born, on the twenty-fifth of November,
1835, a small baby whom his parents named Andrew, who was destined
to become one of the richest men that the world has seen, a citizen
of the United States, a world philanthropist, and a true captain of
industry. So simply was Andrew Carnegie born into the tremendous
nineteenth century.